Chlark/Kaloe Fanfic: Temptress, Chapter 5

[babydee1]

Finally, our dynamic duo appear to be gettin' down to some serious bizniz.  And by that, I mean Chapter 5 of Temptress is in the hizzie.  Oh yeah. :)

This chapter is rated NC-17, so please do not go behind cut if you are under 18. 

And if you're over 18 - enjoy! 

 

Banner by m_strangchild, used with permission.

Title:               Temptress

Author:          BabyDee
Pairing:          Chlark/Kaloe

Rating:           NC17

Warnings:      Smut ahoy!
Timeline:       Season 4 (after Spell) 

Disclaimer:    All characters belong to the CW & DC comics. 

Summary:     Clark buys Chloe some perfume as a pressie.  But the red tint of the scent wasn’t gotten from rose petals.  Oops.

Feedback:      Yes!  Yes!!  Oh, yes!!! J

 

 

Read previous chapter here. 

Read story from the beginning here. 

 

 

 

Chapter 5

 

 

Chloe had fallen through a wormhole and landed in an alternate reality.  There was no other explanation for the fact that Clark Kent had his hands on her hips and was grinding against her.  Grinding. 

 

“Clark, what are you doing?” she shrieked, trying to pull back.

 

He smiled down at her, a feral glint in his eye.  “I’m taking your advice, Chloe, and having a little fun.”  He opened his hand and flexed his fingers, grabbing handfuls of her ass and kneading the soft cheeks insistently. 

 

Chloe’s cheeks flamed, and a slow heat began to build in her lower belly.  As embarrassed as she was that this was happening on a crowded dance floor, she couldn’t help but get seriously turned on by the feel of Clark’s hands unashamedly working her pliant flesh. 

 

She tried to prise his hands away from her hips, but he resisted her efforts and thrust against her.  She gasped as the thick ridge of his erection branded her stomach with heat. 

 

“Clark, stop it.  You’re embarrassing me,” she said breathlessly. 

 

His eyes narrowed to dangerous slits.  “You’re embarrassed?  You didn’t look embarrassed when your ass was fused to Raul’s dick a few minutes ago,” he snarled. 

 

She stared at him in shocked surprise.  “What??!?  We were just dancing, Clark!” 

 

“He had his hands all over you!” he roared.

 

“So what if he did?” she shot back, eyes blazing.  “You’re not my boyfriend, and I don’t have to justify my actions to you!” 

 

“So you admit you were getting your freak on with him in the middle of the dance floor, then?” he whispered into her ear. 

 

She shivered.  “We were dancing,” she insisted stubbornly.  “It’s just salsa, Clark.  And he was a perfect gentleman.  You’re the one who’s dry‑humping me.” 

 

“And you’re totally into it,” he leered, “or I wouldn’t be able to smell how completely turned on you are.” 

 

Chloe froze, numb with shock and shame.  It was bad enough that he was feeling her up in public, but to have him call her out on her state of arousal was a huge blow – especially since he was right. 

 

She’d never hated Clark more than she did at that moment.  But more than Clark, she hated herself for her inability to walk away from him.  Steeling herself against her roiling emotions, she resolved to do just that.  

 

She glared up at him, her entire body trembling in anger.  He flashed a lazy smile, exacerbating her fury.

 

“You smug, arrogant prick,” she hissed.  Lifting her hands to his chest, she shoved at him with all her might.  To her surprise, Clark’s hands fell away from her and she stormed off, heading straight for the cloakroom. 

 

As luck would have it, the cloakroom attendant appeared to have chosen that exact moment to pop out for a break.  Chloe ducked under the counter and went into the cloakroom, swearing under her breath as she realised her coat tag was in her purse, which was back in the club hall with Lois.  She tried to recall what the number was, but came up empty, so she started looking for her coat the old­-fashioned way.  Angrily she sifted and sorted through an assortment of coats and jackets on the first rack, cursing when she got no positive result. 

 

“Potty mouth, Chloe?” drawled a mocking familiar voice.  She spun round and came face to face with Clark, a sardonic grin on his face.  “Language like that will get you spanked.” 

 

“You followed me?” she gasped.

 

He shrugged.  “You invited me to this bar.  You’re duty-bound to keep me entertained.” 

 

“Get out!” she yelled, furious.

 

He tut-tutted.  “I don’t think so, Chloe,” he said in a smooth, low voice.  “You owe me some fun, and I’m here to collect.”

 

And to her complete shock and surprise he reached out and closed the door, turning the key in the lock with a soft click. 

 

 ***

 

Uh-oh.

 

“What are you doing?” she whispered. 

 

“Giving us some privacy,” he grinned, advancing on her. 

 

Oh, no.  “Get the hell away from me!” she hissed, backing away from him. 

 

He ignored her and kept advancing, stalking her like a predator closing in on its prey.  She retreated until she ran out of space and her back hit the far end of the cloakroom wall. 

 

Clark closed in on her and placed his hands to the wall on either side of her head, leaning forward so that the length of his body pressed against hers lightly. 

 

“Now, where were we?” he whispered into her ear, making her entire body tingle. 

 

“I was dancing, and you were being an ass,” she shot back.  “What’s gotten into you, Clark?  This isn’t you.  Have you taken, smoked, sniffed something…?” 

 

He lowered his head and licked her throat, and her breath caught in a sudden sigh.  God, he felt like heaven against her.  There was just the barest of contact between them, but she could feel the heat radiating off him in waves. 

 

It felt good.  Oddly dangerous, but so, so good.

 

“You turn me on, Chloe,” he murmured against her neck.  “Is that so difficult to believe?” 

 

She snorted.  “After all your years of Lana lusting, what do you think?” 

 

He chuckled and traced his tongue around her ear.  “I think I wasted a lot of years, Chlo.  If I’d known you smelled this good, tasted this good, I’d have gone for you ages ago.” 

 

She gave a short, mirthless laugh.  “Okay, now I know you’re not yourself.  You’ve never been into me that way.” 

 

He rolled his hips against her, and she gasped as the rigid length in his pants pressed against her intimately.  “I am now.  And I intend to get ‘into you’ before the night is over.” 

 

Oh, no.  No, no, no.  His words conjured up images in her brain that were raw, sexy and tempting.  If Clark had made up his mind to seduce her – and it was more than obvious that he had – she knew she wouldn’t be strong enough to walk away.

 

But if anything intimate happened between them, she had an awful feeling that Clark would be the one to walk away, just as he’d left her at the Spring Formal.  And she couldn’t risk it.  A five-year friendship for a ten‑minute knee‑trembler in a coat cupboard didn’t seem like a fair trade-off. 

 

“Clark…”  She struggled to streamline her thoughts in the midst of the passion he was igniting in her.  “Clark, we can’t do this…”

 

He ignored her tiny protests and pressed kisses to the soft skin behind her ear.  “Oh yes we can.  And we will.” 

 

She gave a short laugh.  “Nice try, big boy, but you might want to try taking me out on a date first or at least buying me a drink before trying to get me to put out.”  She slid down the wall and wormed her way out of the bracket of his arms. 

 

“Come on,” she said.  “Let’s go back inside.”  She had taken two steps towards the door when his hand closed around her wrist and swung her back to her former position against the wall. 

 

“I’m happy here,” he said, pressing himself against her more firmly so that there was no chance of escape this time.  She bit her lip and managed to prevent a whisper escaping her throat as his broad chest rubbed against her breasts, making her nipples taut and hard.

 

 She swallowed.  “Clark, I’m thirsty,” she complained.  “If you won’t buy me a drink, then at least let me get back to my Screaming Orgasm-”

 

Oh, shit.  Too late, she realised how that sounded.

 

A slow smile spread across his face, a grin of pure lust.  “A Screaming Orgasm? Baby, I got your Screaming Orgasm right here.” 

 

“I was referring to the drink, Clark,” she protested. 

 

“Of course you were,” he said, winking at her.  “I’m partial to cocktails myself.” 

 

His gaze dropped to her bosom and his eyes narrowed at the sight of her puckered nipples pushing through the fabric of her dress.  He lifted one hand away from the wall and trailed a finger down her cheek.  She gulped and stared at him, mesmerised as his questing finger travelled down the side of her neck, drifting over her collarbone, then lower, over the slope of her breast till he reached the hard bud.  Slowly he drew languid circles around it, and this time she couldn’t stop the moan from escaping her lips.  A fierce ache began to burn between her thighs, and she rubbed her legs together in a desperate attempt to ease the yearning as he continued to tease her nipple. 

 

Clark’s fingers travelled inward and toyed with the slim gold chain holding the sides of her dress together.  He glanced up at her and smiled sinfully. 

 

“Speaking of cocktails…have you ever had a Slippery Nipple, Chloe?” he breathed, and flicked the hook on the chain. 

 

“Oh, God,” she moaned. 

 

With sure fingers, he slipped the silky material to one side, baring her breast to his hungry gaze. 

 

***

 

Chapter 6…