21 December 2016

SNH5

Epilogue


Chloe pulls her clothes on. Her body is aching from exhaustion. Her stomach is hollow from hunger. She drinks as much water as she can, hoping to avoid too bad a hangover in the morning. All that matters now is she has Clark. He's behind her again, keeping her back warm while the campfire keeps her front protected from the desert night chill.
"If we die here," she says, "I think I'd be okay with it all ending that way."
"It won't end that way," he promises. "I won't let it."
"Clark?" she asks, looking back at him.
"Hmmm?"
He's as sleepy as she is. She can sense it.
"I love you," she says, after only a slight hesitation, saying it now while he's awake to hear it.
His lips press against hers and he smiles. "I love you, too."
Sleep comes so fast that Chloe isn't aware of drifting off. She's only aware of a sudden change in temperature, of lying on ice. Her eyes fly open, and she's almost ready to weep with delight at the familiar landscape around her: the Fortress of Solitude. Clark's behind her, sitting up, and Chloe feels something warm on her ankle. She looks down just in time to see the glow fade. The bruises are gone. There's no pain.
"Jor-El?" Clark calls. He receives no answer. "Take us home," Clark says. "Lesson learned."
The receptacle in the middle of the room glows. There's a portal they can use to return home and they both eagerly rush inside. A moment later they're back at Clark's house. It's empty.
"We've been gone for four days," Clark says. "Let's get some clothes on and then let everyone know where we are."
"You tell your mother, I'll tell Lois, but only after we've raided the fridge," Chloe says, all but running toward the kitchen.
A second later they're pulling food out and setting it on the table, clumsily grabbing things and not bothering with the dishes. She almost weeps with relief when she finds a beef roast with trimmings wrapped in foil in the fridge. They start eating right out of the dish, using nothing but the knives and forks, foregoing the plates, and the sounds coming from their mouths as they eat the roast, cold, are practically orgasmic.
"Shower sex after this?" Clark asks hopefully.
Chloe rolls her eyes. "We literally had sex ten minutes ago. You can't be ready to go full on again this soon."
Clark slices off a piece of roast and folds it into his mouth and winks at her, making her smile and blush. It's going to be strange to be more than just friends with Clark. Strange, but it'll be good to finally have everything she's dreamed of.
"Don't be so sure," he says, speaking with a full mouth. "I'm an alien from outer space, after all."

Home

SNH4

Chapter Four



Chloe comes to rest beside Clark under the palm tree and puts her hand to Clark's leg, hoping to comfort him, ease his fears. They sit and watch the stars glitter above and listen to the water of the pond slap gently against the shore. Out there, in the desert, the wind kicks up. It's a peaceful night, and it would be perfect if she wasn't so goddamned hungry. She rests her hand on his leg and gives it a squeeze, hoping to comfort him. He's been beating himself up all day over what happened between them that morning, and she knows he has.
"You're one of the most selfless people I've ever met," she tells him.
"Bullshit," he counters. "I'm as selfish as it's possible to be."
The only thing Clark wants is for Chloe to take her hand off his leg because any kind of touch from her makes his heart start to really pump. If Chloe wants to think he's selfless she can, even though he knows it isn't true, but her touch is putting ideas in his head. Ideas he's been having more of since Jor-El sent them out on this weird journey together, thoughts no good, selfless man should have for his best friend. All it does is prove to him he's a selfish bastard only thinking of his own needs and forgetting he's got Lana to think of.
Lana...Does he have her? She lives in Lex's mansion, sharing his bed, sharing her body with a man she doesn't love or want. All Clark's been able to think about is fucking Lana just to spite Lex. He thinks about fucking Chloe just to use her. Selfless. Sure.
Clark can't remember the last time he's been touched while he didn't have his powers up to full. He can fuck Chloe, if that's what she wants, and he wouldn't accidentally hurt her, and they both know it. Maybe that's why she's got her hand on his leg, a little higher up on his thigh, now, forcing the blood through his veins a little faster, forcing him to focus on the fingers that grip him so tight he almost didn't hear Chloe speak again.
"You're are, Clark."
Her voice is so serious it's nearly funny. Clark shakes his head, refusing to look at her like he knows she wants him to. Unfortunately none of it's discouraging her. She knows him too well to be so easily denied what she wants.
"That's why you didn't take advantage of me in the cavern this morning. You didn't want to lead me on, make me stand a chance where there isn't one. I know you love Lana. I know I'm not good enough for a guy like you. I'm all brains, no beauty-"
"Stop," Clark says, maybe a little too harshly. "You always say you're not good enough, or pretty enough. I think you're probably too good for me, and you're definitely drop dead gorgeous. Let's be real, Chloe. I've led you on with the looks, the touches, the 'maybe somedays.' I don't know why you don't hate me by now."
"Sometimes I do," she admits, to his surprise and very much deserved hurt.
"Keep hating me then. Especially now," he tells her, desperately hoping she'll just let well enough alone this time, but he knows she won't. This is Chloe Sullivan, after all. She never lets well enough alone. It's what makes her a damn fine reporter. It's what makes her his greatest ally.
Clark just wants Chloe to move her hand. Either remove it from his leg, or move it higher. Why is she doing any of this? Why stick by him after the orb gave her a chance to go home? Does it matter if he's selfless or not?
"Why didn't you go home?" he asks.
Chloe's grip on his leg tightens and he ignores it as best he can.
"I told you. I won't lose you," she says. "Besides, I've come to realize this journey isn't just for you. It's for me, too."
Now, her hand inches its way up and finally stops in the last place it should, and the only place he wants it, which is right on his dick. Chloe's breath catches in her throat, matching his identical gasp at the contact. He's too high for this. They probably both are. The alcohol has caught up to him, making his entire body flush. His cock is especially heated, hardening in his jeans under Chloe's touch, despite all of his doubts.
He's thinking he should've already left. He shouldn't have dry humped Chloe in that cavern. He shouldn't have shared the rum they'd found. He should've just said no thanks and then told her he needed some solitude. Now it's too late to do any of that, to take any of it back. It's too late to take back the erection that's just getting more noticeable, straining under her small palm, and made even harder when she touches him with even more pressure, and the kind of boldness with which Lana had never touched him.
Now Clark's not sure what he wants. Does he pull Chloe's hand away, disappoint and upset her yet again since they met as kids? Or does he place his own hand atop hers in a silent plea for her to stay, to keep touching him? He ends up shifting, lifting his hips in a momentary grind against her palm. If she's as smart as he knows her to be, she'll just let go.
"Why you doing this?" he finally asks, when Chloe just keeps her palm against his stiffened member.
The question gives Chloe the courage to keep going. He's not telling her to stop, after all. Chloe answers with a breathy whisper.
"Because this is why we're here," she finally says. "To find the answer to the question of who you're truly in love with, who you should be with. Jor-El thinks your heart lies with me but you just need to see it. I think he's right, but does my heart lie with you? Am I in love with you, or the idea of you?"
Clark swallows. It's hard to talk with Chloe's hand exploring his length through his jeans, stroking him carefully, lovingly. He's so hard he can feel his physical needs taking over his common sense, blocking it out, so that he's thinking with his dick, not his brain. Still, he needs the answer.
"And?"
"I'm in love with you," she tells him. "I'm in love with the idea of you, too. I'm in love with the hero you can be, and he man you are. All of you."
Chloe's palm continues to rub at him, pressing harder, doing her best to make him give into her and give her what she wants while he takes what he needs.
"Chloe…" Damn it, if his dick didn't throb every time she stroked him. "If I do this it'll be me just being selfish. Some hero."
"You're not the only one being selfish right now," Chloe concedes.
The idea of turning Chloe away now is absurd, especially with her hand running over the outline of his turgid cock, enjoying the feel of every hard inch of what he had to offer.
Clark corks the bottle of rum and throws it a few feet away, into the sand, near the edge of the black water of the pool. He's done objecting to Chloe. He lets her fingers nimbly work the button open on his jeans, and tug the zipper down. He just leaned back against the rough surface of the tree behind him and stares ahead, at their tiny oasis and the fire that crackles not far away to ward off the chill of the night.


Chloe wishes she didn't like the look on Clark's face so much right now, but she does, because that look of pleasure is so intense it's almost a look of pain. A look she's putting on his handsome face. That plump, rosy bottom lip of his is trapped under his white teeth, turning even redder as they scrapes over the tender flesh.
That Clark hasn't denied being in love with her was what amazes her most. That he hasn't brought up Lana's name now, of all times, leaves her feeling emboldened, and hoping that maybe this time there won't be any backpedaling from whatever happens between them.
Her hand caresses his length, and every time her fingers brush him she can't help but be amazed how good it makes her feel from her hand down to her sodden panties. Fooling around with Jimmy Olsen is like child's play in comparison. Touching him never makes her body ache in the most delicious ways. It never makes her hum like she has hold of a live wire. All she wants now is skin to skin contact, to put away thoughts of others and just feel Clark's most intimate parts for the first time, with only him in mind.
Chloe straddles Clark's lap. He's such a big man that her legs spread far just for her knees to be able to make contact with the sand upon which they sit.
Clark stares up at her with a steady gaze. His eyes have a shine to them that she doesn't know if it comes from the rum or her. The thought that it's her boosts her confidence. She's amazed by that square jaw, how good-looking he is. He's gorgeous inside and out, with his noble heart, his messy mop of curly black hair, and that stubble. Chloe's breath catches again when she feels his enormous hands on her hips, working their way to her round bottom where they squeeze and knead and he clearly enjoys the feel of her in his palms.
"You do everything in secret. The people you save don't know who you are so you never hear it. I'm going to say it now," Chloe whispers. "Thank you for being a hero, even if you're a reluctant one."
Clark's hands continue to squeeze Chloe's ass, grinding her against him. He's touched by her words. He feels his chest warm with love for her. His forehead comes to rest against hers, and Chloe does what she's wanted to do all day-she closes the distance between them and presses her lips to his.
Clark grazes his fingers over the exposed flesh of Chloe's belly, stoking the fires within her. He runs them up her back, his fingers greedy to feel her skin. When she parts her lips and feels his tongue slip into her mouth she gives in to his demanding hands, and his demanding tongue, allowing him to feel her body over, allowing that touch of his to make her moisten and throb as she frantically grinds against him.
Knowing he wants her as much as she wants him is an aphrodisiac for Chloe. Having Clark's love has been a lifelong dream that's now come true. She doesn't have to want him from afar anymore, so she doesn't. He's hers now, and she plans to enjoy that fact. She reaches into his jeans and wraps her hand around his cock, pulling him free so that his member is a thick, veiny column of flesh between their bodies. She strokes him, feeling his moans vibrate against her mouth while she grips him tight, making her want to finish him right there with just her hand.
The need inside Chloe, the love she feels for Clark, is almost enough to scare her away, to give up, release him, run to the wood and hide from it so she can beg Jor-El to send them home. Yet it's Clark's taught body, his eager tongue, that quickly squashes that instinct. She couldn't leave him if he ordered her away. Especially when he breaks the kiss and his hot breath floods her neck and his moans vibrate inside her chest as she continues stroking him.
"Chloe…" he moans.
God, has her name ever sounded so good on a man's lips? She thinks she's as wet as she can possibly get, but hearing him say her name like that, with so much need, makes her even wetter, makes her pussy ache, almost painfully, with need. He just got harder in her grip. It's impossible, surely, but that was how it is: he's gone beyond stone, to steel. He's a whole man positively made of steel.
Clark's own body is a guide to what he wants, how he needs to be touched. She grips his cock tightly, tighter than any normal man could handle, and pumps him. She doesn't move as fast as she knows he wants. She can't risk getting him there too quickly. Instead she teases him, milks one moan after another from his full, rosy lips.
It comes as a genuine surprise when he's the one to stop her, a growl of lust and determination rumbling in his chest. She feels his thumb brush the underside of her now-ragged, dirty bra.
"I want to see you," he says, his lips grazing the sweat-slicked flesh of her chest. "All of you."
Chloe pulls the bra off, over her head, and lets it fall beside them. Now she's exposed, at least from the waist up. He gazes at her with such concentration she feels her flesh heat. Clark's heat vision is activated by hormonal changes. He really is burning her with his gaze. He closes his eyes a moment, gets control of himself, and opens them again.
"More."
With his help, Chloe stands, her knees wobbly, and he helps unzip her jeans, helps her work her way of them, and her sodden panties follow immediately after. His eyes linger on her moistened womanhood before his hands ran up the length of her smooth legs. He grips her bare ass, pulls her down, until once again she straddles his lap. She gazes down at him, feels him work his jeans down even further, exposing more of himself to her for her scrutiny. He isn't ashamed of his nakedness. He definitely has no need to be.
"Come closer," he whispers.
Chloe moves even closer, as close as their bodies can be without actually merging. His lips graze her neck while his fingers explore her body. God it feels good, so good, to have him touch her with such gentle caresses. The feel of his big hands running over her back, down to her ass, over her hips and back up is slowly filling her with the sweetest pressure that builds with every stroke, but it's when she feels his dick against her sensitive nub that she moans the first time. There's nothing between them now. They're skin to skin in the most intimate way.
Chloe's instincts take over, guiding her, leading her to grind over him, coating his cock with her juices. His hands come to a stop on her round bottom and grip her tightly, press her against him, encourage her to grind even harder until, from a distance, one would think she'd taken him inside, judging by the rocking of her hips and the moans escaping her.
When her head falls back Clark's lips seek out the tender flesh of her throat, she feels him moving, twitching eagerly, between the folds of her pussy.
"Clark…" she gasps.
She needs relief. She needs comfort from the now painful level of need inside her, and Clark is determined he won't leave her unsatisfied. He lifts her up, handling her weight and her body like it's nothing, and she guides him to her. Slowly, gently, she eases onto him, and takes every inch of him inside. She's only aware she's moaning so loudly when she hears the deeper timbre of his voice in harmony with hers.
Chloe rests against him now, adjusting to his length and girth, enjoying the feel of comfort from finally having him inside her. It's Clark's whimpers of need as she adjusts herself on him that spurs her to move. She rocks her hips slowly, finding a rhythm, a pace, that is right for both of them. She gazes at his face, at his closed eyes, his crinkled brow, his slightly parted lips. She loves him, so much, and that love deepens when his eyes open and lock onto hers. Every gasp is new, different, a reaction to the feel of her body gripping him, throbbing around him.
Faster and faster Chloe's hips move until she suddenly clenches around Clark's cock, over and over again, fading from tight clenches into flutters. She is near tears from the pleasure that ripples through her. Clark watches her face as she climaxes, and soon she realizes he's placed his hands and feet on the ground beside him to gain leverage. Now he's thrusting his hips, moving up and into her, going so deep it's almost painful. Almost.
"Oh God, Clark…"
One of his hands comes back up to take hold of her hips as he finally finds release of his own. She feels it spurting inside of her, thick and warm. It feels good. Right. Complete, to feel him climax inside while he's locked gazes with her.

Epilogue →

SNH3

Chapter Three


Going to bed every night with Clark Kent was, apparently, going to mean waking up with a boner pressed against her ass. Chloe doesn't have an issue with normal male anatomy, but she does have an issue with her bladder. She extricates herself from his grip and limps over to the corner, as far from him as she can get, and squats for a pee, using a piece of ripped up sweater in lieu of toilet paper, before going back to her warm spot beside Clark.
What she wouldn't give for that old cot they shared the night before. The stone cavern floor may be warm from their body heat, and the heat of the stones Clark heated last night, but it's still hard and her body aches from lying on it for hours. Still, she knows it could be worse. They could be somewhere in extreme weather with no shelter or heat at all, or in danger from wild animals attacking.
Clark is asleep, his breathing deep and even, but he still pulls her as close as he can, just as he had that morning when they awoke in the desert. The red glow of the heated stones makes him look tender, callow, even with the stubble. Chloe appreciates his beauty, his masculinity, but more than anything she appreciates the man he is.
I don't want to love you, she thinks to herself.
Chloe looks at Clark and touches his face, runs the pad of her thumb over his lower lip. She doesn't want to be in love with him but she is. She can't stop herself. Years of fighting the feelings she has for him has left her good at denial except in moments of vulnerability, such as this.
Now, in a cavern God only knows where, she and Clark literally starving, being kept alive only by the water that rushes beside them, providing some soothing background noise. Chloe knows her mind should be on food, not Clark. She should be thinking about survival, about loved ones back home, hell, even about shrimp and steak and candy bars and soda. She should have her mind on anything but the many joys, and hurts, that she's gone through in the name of loving this man. Jimmy Olsen should be on her mind right now, not the man who sleeps beside her; this platonic best friend who will never feel for her the depth of love she feels for him. Yes, she definitely appreciates the man he is.
He must appreciate the woman she is, because he's not only offering his right arm as a pillow for her head, he's offering his hips for a pillow. His left hand has lifted her right leg up to drape over him before sliding down her back, and coming to rest on her ass. Her upper body is completely exposed since she's removed the sweater. What's left of it is on the ground, a makeshift barrier between the stone and her bare skin. Sleep was close, inching in now that she's pushed away all those warm, fuzzy feelings she shouldn't have for her best friend, but him lifting her leg the way he has is waking her up again.
"Mmmm…" he sighs in his sleep.
No, that's not a sigh. That's a moan. It's followed by another. He's dreaming of sex. He's likely dreaming of fucking Lana. He likely thinks, or at least subconsciously wishes, Lana was the one in his arms right now. He can only be with her when he doesn't have his powers. He must be, on some level, deeply disappointed that he's with her instead of Lana.
Another moan. His hand seeks out her skin. He grips her ass, pulls her closer, grinds his erection between her thighs, right against her womanhood in that place that so desperately needs attention. Chloe fights two urges at once: the urge to let her body respond to his needy touches and breathy moans, and the urge to wake him up and put an end to it before it can really get started.
Eventually she goes with the second urge. It's only fair, after all. Anything else would be taking advantage. He's asleep, unaware of what he's doing, and with whom he's doing it with.
"Wake up, Clark."
"Chloe," he whispers.
Another moan. She knows he's asleep. She knows he's not consciously doing any of this. She also knows he's not dreaming of Lana, but her.
"Fuck," she whispers.
What does this even mean? Why is he doing this? Why is he having dirty dreams about her, grinding against her? Is it as simple as because she's the one who's there, available? Or is it deeper than that? Are there feelings involved, or is this strictly physical?
"Clark, please," Chloe whispers, desperate for him to awaken and end this torture.
Clark's eyes slowly open. He's not halted his hips. They still move in a slow roll against her moistening center. That humongous hand of his has covered the whole right side of her ass, and that's no small feat because if there's one thing Chloe can appreciate about her body, it's her ass. He doesn't pull away. He doesn't stop. He continues to allow himself to slowly arise from sleep, holding her close, his impressive length rubbing against her.
Another moan. Another sound of pure, base need. Chloe's hand finds its way to Clark's broad, strong shoulder, and grips him tight trying to just hold on to see what will happen next. He's awake now, staring down at her and looking torn between desire and shame.
"It's okay," Chloe whispers. "Take what you need. I know it won't mean anything."
He grinds harder, faster, pulls her against him and holds her there, now that he's got her permission, her consent. She's so wet her arousal fills her own nostrils, and Clark's. He breathes deep and grinds even harder, even faster grunting and moaning, but regardless of how needy his body is, he's careful not to hurt her.
"God, Chloe…" he grinds out, getting them both closer to release. Release she wants him to find as much as she needs it herself.
Then, suddenly, he's pulling away from her, rolling into a sitting position. He gets up, turns to the wall and she can see him undoing his jeans. She hears the zipper come down, sees the motion of his right hand grip himself while he places his left hand flat against the wall and hangs his head, all with his back to her, while he pumps his cock. Just a few strokes is all that's needed before she can see the evidence of his release spurting against the wall while he cries out his release. Chloe never imagined she'd see Clark in a moment like this, see his come, hear him climax. This is a part of him she isn't supposed to experience in any way, but she is, and she can feel regret and shame rolling off of him, and that hurts her deep inside. She feels used, humiliated, inadequate. She needs to know why he finished the way he did, away from her. Did she repel him on some basic level?
He doesn't come back to lie beside her. Instead, he leaves her there, beside the heated stones, unable to look at her now. Chloe curls in on herself, her eyes stinging with tears that she allows to fall. She sobs into the crook of her arm, heartbroken.


Homesick. That's what Chloe is now. She's homesick. She wants to flip Clark the bird and go back to her little apartment above the Talon. She can take a hot bath, get something to eat, and most importantly she can drain a gigantic mug of java. She'd kill Clark for some coffee right now. She'd kill Clark for a bite off a chicken drumstick, in truth.
All day, alone, nobody to speak to, abandoned by Clark, hurt but also boiling mad. Chloe occupies her time by scrubbing her clothes in the stream before hanging them in the tree to dry. She bathes in the frigid water and tries to fill her belly with it to ease the ache from hunger. They're on day two in the desert and not a bite to eat. She wishes she could find even a tiny fish.
"And do what with it?" Chloe asks herself.
Chloe's got no tools to clean a fish. No way to make a fire to cook it. Someone could hand her a nice plump trout and she didn't have a clue what she'd do with it. She was brilliant at computers but a failure at survival in the wild.
She's snapped her bra back in place when she hears Clark return. He's not speaking to her. If that's how he wants to play it, fine. She can keep her mouth shut, too. She has no intentions of breaking the silence, or mending fences. She didn't do anything wrong. Fuck Clark Kent, and fuck the tears that want to slip down her face again. Fuck the hurt. Fuck the fact she's glad he left to spare her embarrassment from his sudden flight from her, just to come on the fucking wall because he couldn't stand to be near her.
He's got something in hand, a fact that doesn't register for the first ten minutes of his return. She thinks it's an egg until he holds it up. It's a silver orb, the size of a large chicken egg. There's a Kryptonian sigil for the House of El etched into the surface.
"Well?" Chloe asks, impatient with him. "What is it?"
"I don't know. Wasn't here when I left this morning," Clark answers.
When you left after using me to get almost there, she thinks. When you left me feeling like a piece of used toilet paper, you bastard.
His stomach grumbles. Loudly. Hers answers in sympathetic agreement.
Clark clears his throat. "Chloe, about this morning."
She waits, making busy work of soaking her ankle and trying not to break into tears again. When he fails to speak, she knows it's because he's embarrassed, uncomfortable. Good, she's glad he is.
"When you used me and left me feeling like shit?" she asks, breaking the silence. "Like I'm an ugly troll? Just like you always have."
She's silent for so long she finds it hard to look at him. When she finally does it's to see his head is hanging in shame.
"I'm sorry," he repeats. There's so much anguish in his voice she can feel it as keenly as she feels her own emotions. "I used you in the worst way this morning and then just left."
Damn him straight to hell!
What is it about him that makes it nigh impossible to really stay angry with him? Why did she feel like such a coward? Why did she have to care for him so fucking much?
"Why did you leave?"
"Cowardice," he says. " I shouldn't have done what I did. I shouldn't have taken off but I didn't know what else to do, what to say. I'm no good with my feelings."
"Are any of us?" she asks. "I understand, Clark."
Clark shakes his head. "Don't do it. Not this time."
"Do what?"
"Let me off the hook," he says. "Don't let me get away with hurting you. Again. I don't deserve the that much kindness."
Chloe shrugs and picks up the orb he'd set down. "I'm too tired and hungry to hold a grudge right now, Clark. Besides, it's kinda become habit to forgive you."
As soon as the orb touches her palm it projects an image that lead to the Talon apartment. It's deserted, but it quickly becomes apparent it isn't just an image-it's a doorway. She can smell coffee, pastries, and whatever candles Lois burns in the evenings when she gets home from work.
"Clark, it's the way home. Come on!"
"Only you may pass, Miss Sullivan," Jor-El's voice says. His deep timbre fills the space in the cavern, reverberating from the walls. "The time for the gate to remain open is quickly running out. Decide if you will return home, or remain with Kal-El."
"Go," Clark says tightly.
Chloe swallows nervously. "I can't leave you here."
"Yes, you can," he tells her. "Chloe, this is your chance to get home so take it, please."
This is it. Three steps and she's home, but Clark would remain behind to suffer the elements, starve, alone.
"If anybody can find me it'll be you," he says, trying to coax her into the portal.
Chloe knows it's not that simple. Jor-El can simply move Clark anywhere on Earth. She can find him, and then lose his trail just as quickly.
Clark's face is pained when he pleads with her. "Please go. I want you to be safe."
"I want to know you're safe, too," she shoots back. "Our friends are looking for us, you know they are, but Jor-El keeps moving us. I may never find you again if I leave you now."
The sigil starts flashing. Chloe throws the orb into the stream and the doorway closes. The orb disappears into the black where the water goes back underground. Clark sighs and falls to his knees. Chloe joins him, knowing he's both relieved to not be alone, and disappointed she didn't take the chance to get home while she had it.
"Take us to this oasis you found," she says. "I'm sick of this cavern."


To Chloe, the oasis looks like something out of a sixties television show, like Gilligan's Island or something. There are palm trees and lots of greenery but, unfortunately for them, none bear any kind of fruit they can eat. Clark assures her he's searched the area but there's nothing in the way of food. There is, however, a rather large pond, almost dead center. The place looks like some perfect island getaway for lovers. If only there was a hotel, with a bed and blankets, and air conditioning, or at least a hammock.
Chloe does some exploring of her own, starting with a swim in the pond. The water seems pure. She just hopes there aren't any microbes in it that'll give her a deadly case of dysentery. Once she's cooled off she climbs from the water, tramps across the sand, and into the greenery. She spends the day looking around their little safe haven, hoping to see something Clark hasn't, but without luck.
As the hours wear on, Chloe's got time to think about her fate. There's no sign of civilization like there'd been at the winter cabin. Sure, that place had been abandoned for years, but at least it was proof there were people around. So far she'd seen nothing here to indicate there's anyone else alive for miles and miles, even further than Clark could search with his limited abilities.
Were they going to starve to death? At first she'd been certain Jor-El wouldn't allow that to happen to them, but now she's not so sure. Is he willing to allow his own son, and his friend, to die out in the wilderness by shifting them from one harsh and empty location to another, simply to keep their friends and family from locating them? How close were Oliver and Bart to rescuing them? Is that why they'd been moved in the early morning hours? Had Bart almost sped right up to them or something?
She's heading back to Clark when she trips and stumbles on something. She took it to be a tree root at first, but upon closer inspection Chloe can see it's not a root, but the corner of a buried trunk.
"You've got to be kidding me! Hidden treasure?" Chloe says, marveling at the tiny wooden chest. "Clark, come here!"
He was there a few seconds later, his face filled with alarm. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine. Look," she says, already digging sand away.
Clark falls to his knees beside her to dig and moments later he's pulling the trunk from the ground. She's relieved there's no lock, but she can sense his disappointment when he pulls it open just to find a bottle some some drink inside. It's not even labeled, just full, with a cork in the top.
"I feel like we're in the next installment of Pirates of the Caribbean," Clark says, angry. "Only it's crossed over with the Twilight Zone. If Johnny Depp or Rod Serling show up I'm punching them in the face."
Chloe wants to laugh but she can't. She's too filled with disappointment. Clark gazes at her face and feels it, too. Anything useful would've been great. He hates to admit it, but if she'd found another orb he'd have shoved her through the fucking portal to save her. He'd face his death, here on this little desert oasis, alone if he had to.
Chloe's holding the bottle up now, as the sun sets. She's uncorks it and takes a sniff.
"Rum," she says. "I'm no connoisseur of fine spirits but it smells like it's safe to drink."
"I don't think that's a good idea," Clark says, and he's never meant anything more in his life. If simply having a dirty dream about Chloe led to him humping her in the cavern that morning, he can only imagine what alcohol will lead them to.
Not that he doesn't want it. Not that he doesn't want her, but he knows how vulnerable she is right now. He'd be taking advantage because...because he's a selfish shit who doesn't know how to appreciate a good thing when he has it. That's why they aren't together, he thinks. That's why he's spent so much of his life chasing some fantasy with Lana, rather than embracing a beautiful reality with Chloe.
It's obvious she wants to drink the rum, and if there's one thing Clark has a hard time doing, it's denying Chloe things he can give her. So when she looks at him with that hopeful expression, and takes the first drink from the bottle, frowning at the taste, he accepts it when she passes it to him.
And so it begins-a night of drinking-and God knows what else.


SNH2

Chapter Two


Even just coming out of sleep Chloe can tell something isn't right. Firstly, it's hot. Way too hot. Secondly, there's something gritty blowing in her face. Chloe coughs and sputters and feels something behind her. Clark. He has a grip on her like he's drowning and she's the only thing that can keep him afloat. Not to mention he's got his…
Whoa…
That's one hell of a boner pressing against her bum. She'd always figured Clark would be well endowed but not like this. She elbows him, trying to wake him up, but Clark isn't interested in her elbow. He's interested in her ass and grinding his needy flesh against her, seeking relief from the erection he's waking up with.
"Mmmm, Chloe," He moans. "Take it."
Her face heats, intensely, wondering what the fuck he's dreaming right now He's grinding her hard and slow and moaning those words...take it?
"Clark, wake up," she says, but he's not listening.
Chloe decides it's not in their best interest for her to enjoy the press of his hardness to her bottom, or his thumb, which has sought out the hardened bud of her nipple. She's going to ignore the fact she's shocked that it's her name that he's just moaned in his sleep instead of Lana's. She tries not to let it make her feel so damned happy because it's just a dream, and dreams don't mean shit.
"Clark!"
He starts and looks around, but he hasn't released her. He hasn't even loosened his grip and his hips are still moving in a ghost of their former motions, the way you breathe in the same pattern you had during a hard cry, even after the tears have stopped. His eyes struggle to adjust to the bright light under a cloudless sky. Sand is still blowing, though not as hard as when she'd first awakened. When he realizes Chloe's trying to extricate herself from his grip, that his morning wood is straining for freedom in his jeans and eager to feel her warm flesh, he lets her go and scoots back to give her some space. He looks embarrassed and horny at the same time. Chloe refuses to laugh at him. After all, she wouldn't want to be laughed at if she was in his shoes.
"Where the hell are we?"
"I have no clue," Chloe answers.
Already she's covered in a thin sheen of sweat. The ugly Christmas sweater that helped keep her from freezing to death just yesterday was about to roast her alive in the heat of the desert. Without thinking she pulls the shirt off and stands there in the lacy, dark blue bra she'd put on before everything happened. She pretends it's no big deal that the bra is just lace and leaves nothing to the imagination, that her nipples are clearly visible and proudly poking against the flimsy material that covers them. She pretends Clark's not staring openly at not just her breasts, but at the sweat popping out all over her body. They'll need water, fast, if they're going to make it in this heat.
"I wore a lacy bra thinking I might get lucky at the party," she jokes.
"You're far from lucky," he says. He tears his eyes away from the display of flesh before him and allows them to wander the landscape surrounding them. It's nothing but sand for as far as the eye can see.
"Hear anything?"
Clark closes his eyes and concentrates. "Water, very faint, six or seven miles out, I think."
"You can hear that far out?" she asks, delighted. "That's great, Clark. You're getting some strength back. Maybe you're soaking up the sunlight and it's having an effect."
"Let me try something," he says, taking a breath. He blows over her and it's cold, gusty, inhumanly strong.
"My breath is coming back," he says, happily.
"Brush your teeth first, next time," she says, only half joking. He grins anyway and nods in the direction he heard the water.
The heat isn't necessarily a bad change from the freezing cold but it is, according to the location of the sun, still morning. The heat's coming in fast and she can imagine just how ugly it'll get for her, especially with so much exposed skin, so she attempts to hold the sweater up as a makeshift shelter.
"So, this is better than the cold, but still an extreme," she says. "I wonder why he moved us to such a harsh environment, and why somewhere with no food source?"
"I don't think he means to kill us," Clark says. "He won't throw anything at us we can't overcome. I'm sure of it."
Chloe agrees, but that doesn't mean Jor-El will make it easy on them, either. She glances at Clark as they walk, sees he's sweating but not nearly as much as she is. Yeah, he's not as affected by the extreme changes in temperature as she is. She also notices he's trying to ignore the fact that his dick is still hard, a long, thick column of flesh pressed against his left thigh. She looks away from it, trying to keep from embarrassing him, when he suddenly stops.
"Come here," Clark says. "I can run us there faster than we can walk."
Clark reaches for her but Chloe hesitates. "It's really hot, Clark. You're not at full strength. I don't want you to hurt yourself."
"I feel stronger today."
Chloe cocks her head to the side, openly skeptical.
"I really do," he insists.
She allows him to scoop her up and he does it as though she weighs nothing. Maybe he's not just trying to assuage her fears. Maybe he means it. When he takes of running, moving at least 30mph, she knows it's true. Clark's getting faster, and stronger.
They arrive at a place with a shrub sticking up, out of the sand but that's it. Clark sets Chloe down and they examine the area, seeing nothing.
"There's running water," Clark insists. "I hear it."
"Must be close," says Chloe. "This bush has a source of water. Maybe there's an underground cave or-"
There's suddenly nothing beneath Chloe's feet but air. As she falls a scream rips from her. It's hard. Primal.
"Chloe!"
She hits the ground, hard, feels her ankle twist and the wind is knocked from her body. She looks up, sees that the shrub is actually the top of a tree that juts up from the ground beside a rushing stream. She's in a cavern brightly lit from several other holes in the ground above. There's a source of wind somewhere that blows her hair.
Clark drops easily to the ground. It's at least a twelve foot fall, maybe a little less, but it has no impact on him. He's by her side a moment later, checking her over with eyes full of fear.
"Chloe!"
"I'm ok," she says, coughing and trying to catch her breath. "My ankle didn't do so well, though."
He pulls her right shoe off. Her ankle's swelling right before their eyes.
"The stream," he says.
He scoops her up and takes her to the water where she plunges her foot in.
"Cold! So cold," she says, hissing at the frigid water.
"It'll help with swelling," he says. "Do you think you broke it?"
Chloe shakes her head. "Sprained it, though."
Clark scans the cavern once he's sure she'll be ok. It's open, airy. "I'm gonna see where that path leads. I'll be right back."
He hurries off, but returns a few seconds later, shaking his head.
"The path just goes outside. It's kinda twisty and bendy, but it just leads outside."
"It's cool in here," Chloe said. "Compared to outside, at least."
"You're cold?"
"No, it's nice, actually," she says. "It can't be warmer than 85° in here. With low humidity it's not bad."
"I'm having a hard time judging temperature," he confesses. "Another sign my abilities are coming back."
Clark's eyes meet hers. "What's going on, Chloe? Why is he moving us around?"
"Ask him," Chloe says.
She knows it's pointless. Clark's too stubborn. Just like both his father's AI and his adopted father. She isn't thinking when she reaches out to push a strand of hair off his forehead. Her hand moves to cup his face, the beard stubble scratchy in the palm of her hand. Clark closes his eyes and sighs, enjoying the feel of her touch.
"You scared me," he says. "I thought you were going into shock and I can't get you help."
"Sorry. Does it help to know I scared myself?"
They laugh together and Chloe drops her hand. The laughter subsides into an awkward silence before Clark and Chloe drink from the pristine stream.
"My foot is nearly numb."
Clark lifts her leg and looks at the ankle. "Another half an hour or so for the swelling," he says, putting it back into the water. "I'll go see what's around us. I'll see if I can't find something to eat, and something to make a splint."
He touches her face. "Yell if you need me. I'll get back as soon as I can."
A moment later he surprises her with a kiss to her forehead, leaves her his watch to keep track of time, and takes off running. Chloe waits another hour before she removes her foot. The cold has done wonders for the swelling. She lies down beside the tree and rests her leg in the crook of some branches, keeping her ankle elevated above her heart.
"This is your fault, tree," Chloe complains. "So yeah, I'm gonna stick my foot on you. No complaining."
The tree answers with a serene rustle of its upper branches, as if to shrug, and agree that was fair.


By the time Clark returns, Chloe's waking from a nap. According to the watch he's been gone six hours.
"Desert, everywhere," Clark says, "but I did find an oasis. It's above ground but there's nothing to eat."
Chloe nods but she's disappointed about their food situation. "I should've stuffed some salmon in my pockets."
"Gross," he says, frowning.
They laugh together but it's an uneasy sound. They have water, which will keep them alive, at least, but Chloe's belly growls in hunger.
"Doesn't the desert get super cold at night?" she asks.
Clark nods and starts gathering stones to heat with his heat vision, telling Chloe to give him the word when she needed warming up.
"I need a bath," he says. Chloe notices he's worked up a sweat from all the running. "You'll be good and keep your head turned?"
"I make no promises!" She says, watching a cloud pass by overhead. Clark laughs.
"Ok, so I peeped a little last night," he confesses. "Just once. Sue me."
Chloe's genuinely shocked. She'd been convinced he hadn't looked. Now she knows he had peeped after all, and for some reason it pleases her. Maybe the reason he doesn't want her really isn't because he thinks she's ugly, as she's feared for years. It was a silly fear. She knows she's not ugly, and that Clark's not shallow, but she's never believed she can compete with Lana in the beauty department. It's such a shallow fear, and her inner feminist was ashamed of her, but she also knows it's her hang up, not Clark's.
She slides her eyes over to the man himself and sees him standing from the water. It cascades over every rippling muscle in his body and she wants to moan at the sight, and at the power of the sheer lust she feels for him. Not to mention the love that makes her chest warm at the sight, even the thought, of him. She barely manages to turn her head before he can catch her washing dirt and sweat from his body. God, if he's not beautiful. Like an angel fallen from the heavens to torture her with unrequited love.
When his bath is over and his clothes are scrubbed clean and hung up, he sets himself to using his now ripped up sweater to fashion Chloe a splint. Later, he heats the stones until they glow, and the cavern is nice and warm. Later, he's holding her in his arms, ready for sleep after a hard day running around in the desert.
"I'm glad it's you Jor-El chose to send with me," Clark says, as sleep closed in on him.
"Me too," Chloe says. His breathing levels out. He's asleep, and her throat tightens with emotion when she whispers, "I love you, Clark."
Clark's arms tighten around her in his sleep, as though he heard her, understood the message, and he pulls her closer.