Echoes- Smallville fanfic
Title: Echoes
Rating: NC-17; bordering on whatever might be above that.
Pairings: Chlark
Spoilers: Crimson, I suppose.
Disclaimer: If I owned Smallville, Clark and Chloe would have gotten together a freaking long time ago. So, yeah, whatever.
Summary: Clark can't control his thoughts... or his hands.
Warnings: READ: This is for mature audiences only. To be blunt, it's smutty, people. If you are in any way offended with the subject of masturbation, then don't read this one. Simple as that. Other than that, there's a bit of strong language. You have been warned.
Note(s): People asked for it... so here it is, a sequel to Whispers. If you have not read it yet, I highly suggest you do so before reading this story, as it takes place immediately after the events of Whispers. Little bit of angst in this one, too.
Desire.
As much as he tried to deny it, he couldn't.
He desired Chloe.
So badly, he could almost taste her.
In the few minutes since his superhearing had picked up the soft, shocking sound of his name spilling from her lips, that fact had suddenly became completely undeniable.
He'd been trying desperately to fall asleep, but the more he tried, the louder her sweet little moan echoed in his head, and the harder he got.
His flesh was as hard as granite beneath the boxers and pajama bottoms he wore, and even trying to turn over in the bed made him ache.
Finally, he couldn't control himself, and knew he couldn't sleep until the rush of flame in the pit of his stomach was gone.
He moved, sitting up, and peeled off his t-shirt. His hands grazed over the solid muscles of his abdomen as he reached down to untie his drawstring pajama bottoms.
They were off in a flash, and his bright blue boxers soon followed.
His long, thick cock stood straight up against those rock-hard abs, a clear sign of just how turned on he was.
His big hand slowly wrapped around it, and he hissed at his own touch as his eyes closed.
As he began to work his hand up and down his burning erection, the movie that filled his head and flooded his senses was almost too much for him to take.
He envisioned Chloe, stepping toward the bed almost shyly, her beautiful blonde hair curled into little ringlets, making her look nearly innocent. The outfit that covered her little, body, however, made her look like pure sex-- at least to Clark.
The short-sleeved, sophisticated-looking blouse clung to her breasts in just the right way, then sloped down over her little waist on its way into the top of her knee-length black skirt. Her shapely legs were covered in black fishnets, and her feet were encased in leopard-print high heels.
Clark had never been fond of leopard-print items, but the shoes, on her, were remarkably sexy.
He let out a low groan, his hips raising, thrusting his aching cock even further into his hand as a drop of pre-come dotted the very tip.
In his mind, Chloe didn't say a word, just smiled at him as she moved to the bed.
She sat on the side of the bed, her hand near his hip. Her tongue dragged over her bottom lip as she looked down at him. She finally spoke.
"You're so hard, Clark." she whispered, looking up at his face. "Does it hurt?"
He nodded quickly, letting out a weak groan.
"I can make it better, Clark." She was breathing heavily, and his eyes couldn't help but fall to her breasts. "If you want me to..."
He nodded again, almost frantically, and in his fantasy, her hand replaced his.
As her tiny hand worked over his shaft, she leaned over him, her tongue moving out to flick over the head.
He groaned, lifting his hips again.
Her mouth moved over him, slowly, almost teasingly, and he imagined his hands fisting in those beautiful curls.
She suddenly stopped, pulling up and back, and he actually shuddered as he saw a dot of his moisture on her bottom lip.
She licked her lips, and somehow still managed to look innocent.
She moved off the bed, and began to undress in front of him.
When she moved back, and over his lap, only the fishnets and her shoes remained.
Her little hand reached for him again, positioning him at her opening.
She sank down onto him, effortlessly, it seemed, engulfing him in her slick wet heat.
He moaned, his eyes squeezing tightly shut, leaning his head back. He gave his cock a rough squeeze, giving himself a little more feeling for his fantasy.
She slid up and down over him easily, making a little noise with each downward movement of her hips.
He met each of her thrusts with one of his own, going as hard and fast as he wished. He couldn't hurt her here. That was one advantage of a perfect fantasy.
His hands went over her creamy white breasts, squeezing them, working her rosy pink nipples into hard little nubs.
She moaned out his name, low, deep, and throaty, not to mention unbearably sexy.
"Oh, God, Clark..." she whispered, rolling her hips downward.
He groaned back at her, and began to thrust harder and faster, his strokes deepening.
She was practically bouncing over him within moments, moaning and panting and gasping, her hands gripping his broad shoulders.
She came, crying out his name, her head falling back.
He groaned loudly, feeling his body start to twitch.
Her hands touched his cheeks as he head rose, her eyes just barely open as he still relentlessly worked his hips upward.
Her face moved toward his, her lips just barely meeting his.
"I love you."
Those three little words set him off, and he called out her name, his voice raised so high, he barely recognized it.
His cock jerked violently in his hand as he came in white-hot bursts, his sticky arrival shooting upward, marking his perfect chest.
He almost struggled to catch his breath, trying to calm himself after the most enormous explosion of his life.
When his breathing slowed again, he quickly cleaned up his mess as best as he could before preparing to pass out in his big bed.
As he lay there, his body finally surrendering to sleep, he realized that his orgasm had not only emptied his body, but the source of it had created an entirely new emptiness deep within him.
And as much as he tried to deny it, he just couldn't.
Rating: NC-17; bordering on whatever might be above that.
Pairings: Chlark
Spoilers: Crimson, I suppose.
Disclaimer: If I owned Smallville, Clark and Chloe would have gotten together a freaking long time ago. So, yeah, whatever.
Summary: Clark can't control his thoughts... or his hands.
Warnings: READ: This is for mature audiences only. To be blunt, it's smutty, people. If you are in any way offended with the subject of masturbation, then don't read this one. Simple as that. Other than that, there's a bit of strong language. You have been warned.
Note(s): People asked for it... so here it is, a sequel to Whispers. If you have not read it yet, I highly suggest you do so before reading this story, as it takes place immediately after the events of Whispers. Little bit of angst in this one, too.
Desire.
As much as he tried to deny it, he couldn't.
He desired Chloe.
So badly, he could almost taste her.
In the few minutes since his superhearing had picked up the soft, shocking sound of his name spilling from her lips, that fact had suddenly became completely undeniable.
He'd been trying desperately to fall asleep, but the more he tried, the louder her sweet little moan echoed in his head, and the harder he got.
His flesh was as hard as granite beneath the boxers and pajama bottoms he wore, and even trying to turn over in the bed made him ache.
Finally, he couldn't control himself, and knew he couldn't sleep until the rush of flame in the pit of his stomach was gone.
He moved, sitting up, and peeled off his t-shirt. His hands grazed over the solid muscles of his abdomen as he reached down to untie his drawstring pajama bottoms.
They were off in a flash, and his bright blue boxers soon followed.
His long, thick cock stood straight up against those rock-hard abs, a clear sign of just how turned on he was.
His big hand slowly wrapped around it, and he hissed at his own touch as his eyes closed.
As he began to work his hand up and down his burning erection, the movie that filled his head and flooded his senses was almost too much for him to take.
He envisioned Chloe, stepping toward the bed almost shyly, her beautiful blonde hair curled into little ringlets, making her look nearly innocent. The outfit that covered her little, body, however, made her look like pure sex-- at least to Clark.
The short-sleeved, sophisticated-looking blouse clung to her breasts in just the right way, then sloped down over her little waist on its way into the top of her knee-length black skirt. Her shapely legs were covered in black fishnets, and her feet were encased in leopard-print high heels.
Clark had never been fond of leopard-print items, but the shoes, on her, were remarkably sexy.
He let out a low groan, his hips raising, thrusting his aching cock even further into his hand as a drop of pre-come dotted the very tip.
In his mind, Chloe didn't say a word, just smiled at him as she moved to the bed.
She sat on the side of the bed, her hand near his hip. Her tongue dragged over her bottom lip as she looked down at him. She finally spoke.
"You're so hard, Clark." she whispered, looking up at his face. "Does it hurt?"
He nodded quickly, letting out a weak groan.
"I can make it better, Clark." She was breathing heavily, and his eyes couldn't help but fall to her breasts. "If you want me to..."
He nodded again, almost frantically, and in his fantasy, her hand replaced his.
As her tiny hand worked over his shaft, she leaned over him, her tongue moving out to flick over the head.
He groaned, lifting his hips again.
Her mouth moved over him, slowly, almost teasingly, and he imagined his hands fisting in those beautiful curls.
She suddenly stopped, pulling up and back, and he actually shuddered as he saw a dot of his moisture on her bottom lip.
She licked her lips, and somehow still managed to look innocent.
She moved off the bed, and began to undress in front of him.
When she moved back, and over his lap, only the fishnets and her shoes remained.
Her little hand reached for him again, positioning him at her opening.
She sank down onto him, effortlessly, it seemed, engulfing him in her slick wet heat.
He moaned, his eyes squeezing tightly shut, leaning his head back. He gave his cock a rough squeeze, giving himself a little more feeling for his fantasy.
She slid up and down over him easily, making a little noise with each downward movement of her hips.
He met each of her thrusts with one of his own, going as hard and fast as he wished. He couldn't hurt her here. That was one advantage of a perfect fantasy.
His hands went over her creamy white breasts, squeezing them, working her rosy pink nipples into hard little nubs.
She moaned out his name, low, deep, and throaty, not to mention unbearably sexy.
"Oh, God, Clark..." she whispered, rolling her hips downward.
He groaned back at her, and began to thrust harder and faster, his strokes deepening.
She was practically bouncing over him within moments, moaning and panting and gasping, her hands gripping his broad shoulders.
She came, crying out his name, her head falling back.
He groaned loudly, feeling his body start to twitch.
Her hands touched his cheeks as he head rose, her eyes just barely open as he still relentlessly worked his hips upward.
Her face moved toward his, her lips just barely meeting his.
"I love you."
Those three little words set him off, and he called out her name, his voice raised so high, he barely recognized it.
His cock jerked violently in his hand as he came in white-hot bursts, his sticky arrival shooting upward, marking his perfect chest.
He almost struggled to catch his breath, trying to calm himself after the most enormous explosion of his life.
When his breathing slowed again, he quickly cleaned up his mess as best as he could before preparing to pass out in his big bed.
As he lay there, his body finally surrendering to sleep, he realized that his orgasm had not only emptied his body, but the source of it had created an entirely new emptiness deep within him.
And as much as he tried to deny it, he just couldn't.