Sweet Dreams Are Made Of This- Smallville fanfic
Title: Sweet Dreams Are Made Of This
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Chlark; a small mention of another pairing.
Spoilers: Masquerade
Disclaimer: If I owned Smallville, *I* would be in charge of writing the final season. NUFF SAID.
Summary: This isn't real. It can't be.
Warnings: READ: This is for mature audiences only. To be blunt, it's kinda smutty, people. If you're not into that, then don't read. You have been warned.
Notes: This fic was BEGGING to be written. No lie. Even if it did take like FOREVAR to get it written. It's just a little aftermath piece to the ep. Thanks so much to sanadafaye for being an awesome beta. And this is totally dedicated to ayanne_c. Because I said so. :D Feedback is loved!
She awakes.
She's lying on a cold, wet floor, one that's all too familiar. Her hair is dripping wet, and her red evening gown seems to be soaked. Her body is acting accordingly, her hardened nipples rubbing against the silky fabric.
She moves to sit up and looks around, her brow furrowing.
What am I doing back here? she asks herself, eying the stained glass window of the old church. How am I back here?
"Chloe."
She hears her name, loud and clear, slightly echoing in the empty church. It's a low, deep, masculine voice, one that she'd recognize anywhere. She turns toward it, and her confusion seems to grow.
"Clark? Clark, what are we..."
Before she can finish, he's closer, kneeling in front of her. His hands gently begin brushing over her bare arms.
Flashes.
She's getting them now, as she recalls bits and pieces of the last time she was here. She was dressed the very same, but tied up, being tortured and tempted by an evil minion.
Clark's hands sliding over hers, slowly but surely.
His deep, sexy voice saying things to her she's only dreamed of.
His full, beautiful lips nearing ever-so-closer to hers...
But that had all been in her head.
A manipulation, created in her own mind, from her deepest desires, to lure her into the darkness.
But there's nothing about this that's dark.
It's bright, a small amount of light filtering in through the stained glass, and he looks even more beautiful to her as he sits before her now.
"Come on," he tells her, voice firm, fingers lightly caressing over her arms. His touch is hot, almost searing, and if she didn't know better, she'd think he could burn her. "We need to get you out of here."
"W-What? Is it... not... safe?" she finds herself asking, then begins to look around again. Everything seems so different this time...
"No..." he shakes his head slowly, his eyes drifting over her face. "You're safe, Chloe. You're safe here. But..."
"But what?" she sighs, feeling a little exasperated. "Clark, what are we doing here? We've already been here once... You saved me, remember?"
"You tell me," he says, his face softening a bit.
"What?" she asks, feeling even more confused.
What the hell is going on here?
She shakes her head, and before she can look back up at him, she can feel his fingertips brushing over her cheek now.
"Are you cold?" he whispers, and her eyes slowly meet his.
"Yeah, a little..." she trails off, studying his face, and realizes just how often his eyes seem to be falling to her lips.
He seems to be lost in thought, so she assumes he didn't hear her. He certainly doesn't reply, or question it again. Instead, he goes off on another subject, one that catches her off-guard.
"You are so beautiful, Chloe. Have I ever mentioned that?"
"Um... n-not that I know of."
He still keeps looking back at her lips, and now, his thumb is lightly dragging over the bottom one.
"I've wanted to, for so long... but I was afraid, I guess."
"A-afraid of what?"
"The truth... how I feel about you. How much I've wanted you." His breaths are becoming more shallow, as his eyes meet hers again.
She swallows hard. This isn't real. It can't be. But what's going on? Has Desaad captured her again? Is he toying with her emotions again?
"Clark, I..."
"You still want me, too, don't you? Don't you, Chloe?" His eyes are pleading, begging her. It's all too obvious he needs that answer.
"Clark... you... you said I was safe. Am I? Really?" she asks, the same look in her own eyes.
"Yes," he whispers, his thumb gently rubbing her lip. "You're safe, Chloe... please trust me. Please believe me... just like you always have."
The loving look in his beautiful blue eyes makes her heart ache.
"Is this a dream?" she murmurs, her hand reaching up to pull his down. It's the only other explanation she has. If this isn't Desaad playing mind games again, it has to be a dream. But then again, it feels real... what if it is?
"What does your heart tell you, Chloe?" he asks, his big hand wrapping around her much smaller one. "If you need this to be a dream or a fantasy, then that's what I'll be. But you want me to be reality...I can be that too. I'm whatever you want me to be. Whatever you need me to be."
Her heart's pounding wildly, beating out of control, and she knows, without a doubt, that he can hear it. "Well, in that case... kiss me. Just once. Even if it never happens again... Just one kiss..."
The tables have turned.
Before, when Desaad was playing with her mind, it was Clark who was begging for a kiss.
Now, as Chloe knows in her heart she can trust Clark, and that Desaad's no where around, it's her who's begging for that intimacy. Desperation has filled her, and now she's reached her boiling point.
He doesn't say a word. He just leans in, his lips hovering over hers for several seconds before finally pressing down.
The kiss is gentle, but insistent, the sweetest kiss she's ever been given. It's all she's ever really wanted from him, one real, true kiss. But in the moment that the passion increases, her desire grows. She wants more. She wants it all.
When the kiss breaks, they're not even in the same place anymore.
The stained glass windows of the old church are gone, and in place of them, the beautiful, intricate windows of the Watchtower.
Her bed is close-by, empty and warm, the silky red sheets on it pulled back just perfectly, like an invitation.
Her eyes move up to his, and she can see the desire there, the same one she knows is radiating from her own eyes, from her own soul.
There's no hesitation, and no words. His lips just meet hers again, the flames of passion and lust igniting them both.
The wet red dress hits the floor with a light thwack, splattering a small amount of water on her ankles. It makes her shiver, for the slightest moment, but with just a brush of his fingers over her chin, she feels herself begin to warm.
The moment their lips part and she opens her eyes to look at him, she's lying in the middle of the huge bed, with his big, hot body directly over her. His clothes, as well as her panties, seem to get lost in the shuffle, and she sees them nowhere, not that she's really looking for them. He's suddenly dropping kisses down her neck, and all she can really focus on now is that. She moans softly, her hands raising, her fingers desperately diving into his thick, dark hair. She pulls on it as hard as she dares, knowing it won't hurt him. That seems to urge him on, and he goes further, letting his teeth lightly scrape over her collarbone.
Any other woman, knowing his abilities, might be afraid to let him do this, but not her, not Chloe. She trusts him, more than anything, with her life, with her very being. And right now, her everything is his, to use and abuse however he sees fit.
She's moaning, almost gasping at his purposeful teasing as he lightly bites just above one softly rounded breast. The teasing's becoming a bit much to bear, and with a whimper, she begs for more.
"Clark, please... now."
She barely seems to get the words out before he's positioning the broad head of his cock at her opening. She moves her legs up, wrapping them around his waist. He pushes into her then, torturously, deliciously slow. She cries out softly, her back arching, her fingers digging into his shoulder blades.
"Oh, God, Clark... you feel so good... so good..." she murmurs, her lips close to his ear. He fills her so well, so perfectly, she knows in her heart that it'll never be like this with anyone else.
His movements continue to be slow, deep, at first, and that's fine by her. But before long, she realizes she needs more. She needs...
He seems to do the impossible and reads her mind, doing exactly as she wants.
He sits up, on his knees, letting her legs drape over his hips, his strong hands and arms around her waist, holding her up and in place.
His thrusts feel different from this angle, so much better than she ever even expected. He slides into her, deeper and deeper, making her tremble and cry out with anticipation. She's getting closer and closer, almost on the verge of shattering.
Her hands are in his hair again, gripping it as hard as before, if not harder. She has to have something to hold onto, or she fears she'll completely fall apart in his arms.
"Chloe..." she hears him murmur, almost reverently, and that's the beginning of her undoing.
She feels her body start to clench his, and a long moan catches in her throat. She quivers over him, his name managing to pass her lips as the pleasure rips through her. She feels him shudder beneath her, and falls against him.
His back hits the bed in an instant, his head near the foot of it. Her head snuggles against his chest as she struggles to catch her breath.
"Chloe?" His voice, murmuring her name, is enough to catch her attention, and she glances up at him.
"Hmm?"
"I..."
She sees his mouth moving, but there's no sound. Her brows furrow. "You... what?"
His hand raises, brushing over her cheek. "I lo--"
----
Chloe jerks awake, her eyes flying open.
She feels a pair of arms around her, and starts to look up.
"Cla..."
She stops dead in her tracks, her eyes going over the face of the sleeping man.
His strong arms are encircling her, almost a little possessively, something she finds comfort in. She reaches up a hand, lightly running her fingers through his dark hair. He doesn't move, just continues to breathe quietly in his slumber. She cares so much for him, but it's different. Especially now.
Because it's not Clark she's sharing a bed with.
It's her boyfriend, and his name is Oliver.
It was just a dream, she reassures herself, settling back in.
But as she lies there, trying desperately to fall back asleep, she can't stop thinking about it. It felt so real... so very real.
She can't forget how he felt, buried so deeply inside of her. Or the way his lips felt, crushing against hers so feverishly. Or the way his big, powerful arms held her close, protecting her, loving her.
Guilt begins to fill her heart as she realizes just how much she wants Clark to hold her that way, and that the very thought of him doing so comforts her so much more than Oliver's arms around her now.
It may have been "just a dream", but she realizes now how much she wishes it wasn't.
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Chlark; a small mention of another pairing.
Spoilers: Masquerade
Disclaimer: If I owned Smallville, *I* would be in charge of writing the final season. NUFF SAID.
Summary: This isn't real. It can't be.
Warnings: READ: This is for mature audiences only. To be blunt, it's kinda smutty, people. If you're not into that, then don't read. You have been warned.
Notes: This fic was BEGGING to be written. No lie. Even if it did take like FOREVAR to get it written. It's just a little aftermath piece to the ep. Thanks so much to sanadafaye for being an awesome beta. And this is totally dedicated to ayanne_c. Because I said so. :D Feedback is loved!
She awakes.
She's lying on a cold, wet floor, one that's all too familiar. Her hair is dripping wet, and her red evening gown seems to be soaked. Her body is acting accordingly, her hardened nipples rubbing against the silky fabric.
She moves to sit up and looks around, her brow furrowing.
What am I doing back here? she asks herself, eying the stained glass window of the old church. How am I back here?
"Chloe."
She hears her name, loud and clear, slightly echoing in the empty church. It's a low, deep, masculine voice, one that she'd recognize anywhere. She turns toward it, and her confusion seems to grow.
"Clark? Clark, what are we..."
Before she can finish, he's closer, kneeling in front of her. His hands gently begin brushing over her bare arms.
Flashes.
She's getting them now, as she recalls bits and pieces of the last time she was here. She was dressed the very same, but tied up, being tortured and tempted by an evil minion.
Clark's hands sliding over hers, slowly but surely.
His deep, sexy voice saying things to her she's only dreamed of.
His full, beautiful lips nearing ever-so-closer to hers...
But that had all been in her head.
A manipulation, created in her own mind, from her deepest desires, to lure her into the darkness.
But there's nothing about this that's dark.
It's bright, a small amount of light filtering in through the stained glass, and he looks even more beautiful to her as he sits before her now.
"Come on," he tells her, voice firm, fingers lightly caressing over her arms. His touch is hot, almost searing, and if she didn't know better, she'd think he could burn her. "We need to get you out of here."
"W-What? Is it... not... safe?" she finds herself asking, then begins to look around again. Everything seems so different this time...
"No..." he shakes his head slowly, his eyes drifting over her face. "You're safe, Chloe. You're safe here. But..."
"But what?" she sighs, feeling a little exasperated. "Clark, what are we doing here? We've already been here once... You saved me, remember?"
"You tell me," he says, his face softening a bit.
"What?" she asks, feeling even more confused.
What the hell is going on here?
She shakes her head, and before she can look back up at him, she can feel his fingertips brushing over her cheek now.
"Are you cold?" he whispers, and her eyes slowly meet his.
"Yeah, a little..." she trails off, studying his face, and realizes just how often his eyes seem to be falling to her lips.
He seems to be lost in thought, so she assumes he didn't hear her. He certainly doesn't reply, or question it again. Instead, he goes off on another subject, one that catches her off-guard.
"You are so beautiful, Chloe. Have I ever mentioned that?"
"Um... n-not that I know of."
He still keeps looking back at her lips, and now, his thumb is lightly dragging over the bottom one.
"I've wanted to, for so long... but I was afraid, I guess."
"A-afraid of what?"
"The truth... how I feel about you. How much I've wanted you." His breaths are becoming more shallow, as his eyes meet hers again.
She swallows hard. This isn't real. It can't be. But what's going on? Has Desaad captured her again? Is he toying with her emotions again?
"Clark, I..."
"You still want me, too, don't you? Don't you, Chloe?" His eyes are pleading, begging her. It's all too obvious he needs that answer.
"Clark... you... you said I was safe. Am I? Really?" she asks, the same look in her own eyes.
"Yes," he whispers, his thumb gently rubbing her lip. "You're safe, Chloe... please trust me. Please believe me... just like you always have."
The loving look in his beautiful blue eyes makes her heart ache.
"Is this a dream?" she murmurs, her hand reaching up to pull his down. It's the only other explanation she has. If this isn't Desaad playing mind games again, it has to be a dream. But then again, it feels real... what if it is?
"What does your heart tell you, Chloe?" he asks, his big hand wrapping around her much smaller one. "If you need this to be a dream or a fantasy, then that's what I'll be. But you want me to be reality...I can be that too. I'm whatever you want me to be. Whatever you need me to be."
Her heart's pounding wildly, beating out of control, and she knows, without a doubt, that he can hear it. "Well, in that case... kiss me. Just once. Even if it never happens again... Just one kiss..."
The tables have turned.
Before, when Desaad was playing with her mind, it was Clark who was begging for a kiss.
Now, as Chloe knows in her heart she can trust Clark, and that Desaad's no where around, it's her who's begging for that intimacy. Desperation has filled her, and now she's reached her boiling point.
He doesn't say a word. He just leans in, his lips hovering over hers for several seconds before finally pressing down.
The kiss is gentle, but insistent, the sweetest kiss she's ever been given. It's all she's ever really wanted from him, one real, true kiss. But in the moment that the passion increases, her desire grows. She wants more. She wants it all.
When the kiss breaks, they're not even in the same place anymore.
The stained glass windows of the old church are gone, and in place of them, the beautiful, intricate windows of the Watchtower.
Her bed is close-by, empty and warm, the silky red sheets on it pulled back just perfectly, like an invitation.
Her eyes move up to his, and she can see the desire there, the same one she knows is radiating from her own eyes, from her own soul.
There's no hesitation, and no words. His lips just meet hers again, the flames of passion and lust igniting them both.
The wet red dress hits the floor with a light thwack, splattering a small amount of water on her ankles. It makes her shiver, for the slightest moment, but with just a brush of his fingers over her chin, she feels herself begin to warm.
The moment their lips part and she opens her eyes to look at him, she's lying in the middle of the huge bed, with his big, hot body directly over her. His clothes, as well as her panties, seem to get lost in the shuffle, and she sees them nowhere, not that she's really looking for them. He's suddenly dropping kisses down her neck, and all she can really focus on now is that. She moans softly, her hands raising, her fingers desperately diving into his thick, dark hair. She pulls on it as hard as she dares, knowing it won't hurt him. That seems to urge him on, and he goes further, letting his teeth lightly scrape over her collarbone.
Any other woman, knowing his abilities, might be afraid to let him do this, but not her, not Chloe. She trusts him, more than anything, with her life, with her very being. And right now, her everything is his, to use and abuse however he sees fit.
She's moaning, almost gasping at his purposeful teasing as he lightly bites just above one softly rounded breast. The teasing's becoming a bit much to bear, and with a whimper, she begs for more.
"Clark, please... now."
She barely seems to get the words out before he's positioning the broad head of his cock at her opening. She moves her legs up, wrapping them around his waist. He pushes into her then, torturously, deliciously slow. She cries out softly, her back arching, her fingers digging into his shoulder blades.
"Oh, God, Clark... you feel so good... so good..." she murmurs, her lips close to his ear. He fills her so well, so perfectly, she knows in her heart that it'll never be like this with anyone else.
His movements continue to be slow, deep, at first, and that's fine by her. But before long, she realizes she needs more. She needs...
He seems to do the impossible and reads her mind, doing exactly as she wants.
He sits up, on his knees, letting her legs drape over his hips, his strong hands and arms around her waist, holding her up and in place.
His thrusts feel different from this angle, so much better than she ever even expected. He slides into her, deeper and deeper, making her tremble and cry out with anticipation. She's getting closer and closer, almost on the verge of shattering.
Her hands are in his hair again, gripping it as hard as before, if not harder. She has to have something to hold onto, or she fears she'll completely fall apart in his arms.
"Chloe..." she hears him murmur, almost reverently, and that's the beginning of her undoing.
She feels her body start to clench his, and a long moan catches in her throat. She quivers over him, his name managing to pass her lips as the pleasure rips through her. She feels him shudder beneath her, and falls against him.
His back hits the bed in an instant, his head near the foot of it. Her head snuggles against his chest as she struggles to catch her breath.
"Chloe?" His voice, murmuring her name, is enough to catch her attention, and she glances up at him.
"Hmm?"
"I..."
She sees his mouth moving, but there's no sound. Her brows furrow. "You... what?"
His hand raises, brushing over her cheek. "I lo--"
----
Chloe jerks awake, her eyes flying open.
She feels a pair of arms around her, and starts to look up.
"Cla..."
She stops dead in her tracks, her eyes going over the face of the sleeping man.
His strong arms are encircling her, almost a little possessively, something she finds comfort in. She reaches up a hand, lightly running her fingers through his dark hair. He doesn't move, just continues to breathe quietly in his slumber. She cares so much for him, but it's different. Especially now.
Because it's not Clark she's sharing a bed with.
It's her boyfriend, and his name is Oliver.
It was just a dream, she reassures herself, settling back in.
But as she lies there, trying desperately to fall back asleep, she can't stop thinking about it. It felt so real... so very real.
She can't forget how he felt, buried so deeply inside of her. Or the way his lips felt, crushing against hers so feverishly. Or the way his big, powerful arms held her close, protecting her, loving her.
Guilt begins to fill her heart as she realizes just how much she wants Clark to hold her that way, and that the very thought of him doing so comforts her so much more than Oliver's arms around her now.
It may have been "just a dream", but she realizes now how much she wishes it wasn't.