Kate (mskatej) wrote,

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Fic: I Could Write A Book

Okay, I can't lie, I had the MOST FUN EVER writing this story. OMG. And I'm so pleased with myself because I've been meaning to write a Chlark story for MONTHS because even though they're not my OTP, I've *always* shipped them on the show.

Title: I Could Write A Book
Rating: NC17
Pairing: Clark/Chloe
Word count: 4,248
Spoilers: Very, very vague for S5
Notes: Future fic. Comedy. Romance. Set some time after university but before Clark is Superman. Chloe and Clark are still best friends and both work at The Daily Planet, but don’t work in the same office. A million thanks to bop_radar for the super beta. This is for angel_clair and all the other Chlark shippers on my flist. Enjoy!
Summary: Um. Clark and Chloe have lots of dirty sex and there’s a strap-on involved at some point. YAY!
Feedback: I love it the most!

I Could Write A Book, by Kate

Clark couldn’t be any more bored. Stupid pointless press parties that are apparently not pointless because everyone always insists that he goes to them. Put on a tie, a suit, drink sparkling wine that doesn’t make him drunk, talk to people he’s not remotely interested in, and be nice because he is nice, feel guilty because he should be out in the streets, protecting people. Although that’s a pain most of the time, because he has to do it unseen; so really, what the hell is he doing in his life that makes him happy? Nothing. That’s what.

It’s always good to see Chloe, although she’s been working the room all night, while Clark has played the wall flower, so they’ve hardly spoken. But he’s been watching her, and if he were feeling more generous, he might be worried about how much she was drinking.

Not that Chloe isn’t being delightful--her smile never fails to make Clark feel happy--but she’s becoming more animated with every new conversation, to the point where maybe she’s overdoing it a little.

Clark wants to leave. He catches Chloe’s eye and makes that clear; body language being the only language she’ll understand from that far away, he stands up straight and nods towards the door.

Chloe excuses herself from her conversation and makes her way over to Clark, steadily but slowly.

“Try to look less bored Clark. You’re drawing attention to yourself.”

“You’re hilarious. Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

Chloe is definitely drunk.

“I still have to talk to Pauline Kahn and impress her. I’m not leaving until I’ve impressed her, Clark.”

“Yes you are. You’re not at your most impressive right at this moment, Chloe. I’m taking you home.”

Chloe shrugs floppily. “Fine,” she says.

And they leave.


Chloe’s apartment is charmingly messy, like Chloe’s personality. She presents herself immaculately with her clothes and hair and makeup, but the real Chloe is reflected in her living space. It’s tiny and cluttered, and there are pictures all over the walls, haphazardly, unartistically placed, a Wall of Weird, centre stage, in the living room. It’s totally Chloe, and Clark loves it. It’s his favorite place in the world, after the fortress.

“That was so boring,” he says, flopping down onto the lumpy chocolate-brown couch.

“You’re never going to get ahead in journalism if you don’t make an effort at those parties, Clark. They’re stupid, but it’s a part of the job, and the sooner you realize that, the sooner you’re going to make it to the top.”

“I should be doing something better with my time. People need me.”

Chloe sighs loudly in frustration. “You’re allowed a few nights off from saving the world, Clark.”

Clark laughs. “So on my nights off I have to go to excruciatingly dull parties and suck up to people I don’t even like? Wow. My life is great.”

Chloe collapses onto the couch next to Clark and throws her legs over his lap. “Stop moaning, Clark. I wish you could get drunk. You really need to cheer the hell up.”

“I feel a little tipsy.”

“Tipsy.” This apparently is the funniest thing Clark has ever said because Chloe throws her head back and bursts out laughing, shifts chaotically onto her knees and then says, “Oh Clark, you’re so pretty.”

She awkwardly moves herself until she’s sitting in Clark’s lap and then she wraps her arms around Clark’s waist and giggles against his chest for a while. Clark rolls his eyes, then looks down at the top of Chloe’s head, which tumbles back so she’s staring up into Clark’s eyes.

“Kiss me,” she says and he smiles at her and then he does.


The bedroom is much neater than the living room and lit only by a single shard of light coming from the hallway.

Clark kicks off his shoes and shifts back onto the bed, holding himself up with his elbows and watches Chloe – who’s standing at the foot of the bed - watch him. He unbuttons his shirt and opens it, and Chloe looks on, not moving at all.

He takes off the shirt and chucks it to the side, then waits. Chloe should take off something now, and she doesn’t disappoint. She absentmindedly steps out of her shoes and pulls her dress over her head, flinging it to the side, almost comically, eyes never leaving Clark. She’s wearing lace panties and her bra is so sexy; it’s only just covering up her nipples, which, oh man, are straining through the lace.

Clark is about as excited as it’s possible to be, and he quickly takes his pants off. He’s totally naked and totally hard and being watched intently by his best friend in the world, but he doesn’t get a chance to think or worry about that for long because she pounces on him. She’s crawling all over him like a cat, kissing him and biting him and grabbing at his skin. Clark giggles a little between kisses and moans, then he gasps as Chloe’s lips close over the head of his cock.

“Chloe-“ he blurts out, and then sighs helplessly as Chloe starts moving her head. She’s sucking him off. Chloe is giving him a blow job, and where the hell did this come from? Not that Clark’s complaining.

The noises she’s making are… Clark really likes them. Moaning around his dick, wet sounds, the sounds of sucking… he’s starting to feel light headed. Clark puts his hands behind his head and closes his eyes. He hopes like hell that Chloe plans to keep doing that for a while because damn, he hasn’t felt anything this good in way too long.

When was the last time Clark got laid? Six months ago, maybe? More? That awful one night stand, the only one night stand he’s ever had and the reason he plans to never have another one.

Tracey was her name, and god, she was beautiful. And aggressively sexy.

Clark had reacted like he always reacts. He politely declined and tried to get away from her. But she wouldn’t take no for an answer! Clark finally decided that there was nothing wrong with having sex with her, because he didn’t get very much sex. Not as much as everyone else he knew, and she was very attractive and god, Clark was horny. Of course he was horny. Clark’s pretty much always horny, but he usually makes do with jerking off. Just once he wanted to touch someone else. Be touched. Just once. So he’d gone home with pushy Tracey.

Only… the sex was disastrous. They’d had no chemistry at all. They didn’t fit together. Nothing felt right. She didn’t come and neither did Clark. Oh god, it was so embarrassing. He’d lost his erection. He’d lost his erection. Clark was so traumatized by the entire thing, he hasn’t even considered trying to have sex with another human being since.

Until tonight, and then Chloe was there and she wanted him, and, god, Clark really needed this.

Chloe’s unnervingly good at sucking cock. Everything she’s doing feels fantastic, and she matches Clark’s rhythm perfectly as he gently rocks his hips upwards.

And then Chloe’s moving. Mouth off, but she’s still jacking his cock and looking up at him with a mischievous smile. She pushes a knee between Clark’s thighs, encouraging him to spread his legs wider, and she sucks two fingers of the hand not stroking his dick into her mouth, and when she pulls them out, they’re soaked with saliva.

Chloe laughs a little under her breath, and her eyelids are drooping, and she looks so turned on, like she’s having the time of her life and this is what sex is supposed to be like, Clark thinks, his body rippling with pleasure as Chloe’s hand works his cock. Chloe puts her lips back onto Clark, sucks him into her mouth and then… whoa… Chloe’s rolling Clark’s balls in her hand and then she’s sliding her fingers behind them, then up, up the cleft of Clark’s ass. Oh god. Spit-slick fingers circling, he’s so sensitive there. Oh.

Clark’s getting closer to orgasm just from what Chloe’s doing with her mouth, but this… this is such a turn on: that she’s touching him there. That--

Chloe shoves her fingers inside him, hard, and then out and then in again, and Clark nearly blacks out because it feels so incredible and he’s coming, and Chloe’s letting him come in her mouth, and he doesn’t think he’s ever had an orgasm this powerful before.

It feels like hours before Clark’s mind is functioning again, and when he looks over at Chloe, he can’t help but smile. She looks so triumphant.

“You liked that,” she says, and Clark raises an eyebrow at her.

“Um, yeah. Brilliant observation, Chloe.”

The smile stretches even wider. “But specifically. You liked it when I put my fingers in your ass,” and she sounds like she’s just daring Clark to refute it.

Clark ducks his head and looks away, and he can’t stop smiling. He’s not used to pillow talk, and even though the blow job might mean that he should be able to have this conversation with Chloe, he’s still not feeling all that comfortable about it. Or mature. All he wants to do is giggle.

Chloe makes a production out of flopping onto her back, grin still in place and eyes closed. “I’m sleepy,” she announces, and Clark wonders whether he should offer to… sort her out.

“Don’t you want to…” Clark has absolutely no clue how to finish that sentence.

Chloe’s eyes open a slit. “I’m good, Clark. Let’s just go to sleep.”

Clark shrugs and crawls under the covers, then wraps Chloe up in his arms, and they fall asleep.


The morning after is not as strange as it could have been--Chloe’s rushing about manically, half dressed, coffee in one hand, chatting at Clark, who’s sitting at the kitchen bench with his own cup of coffee and not feeling very bothered about the time. Really he wanted to have sex again this morning. Maybe give Chloe an orgasm. But they’d overslept, and now Chloe’s running late, so no sex.

“Shall I come over tonight?” Clark interrupts Chloe’s stream-of-consciousness chatter.

Chloe stops in her tracks and spins around theatrically, a knowing smirk on her face. “To do what, Clark?” she asks him. Bitch.

Clark clears his throat. “We can hang out,” he says, his voice cracking. “Have some dinner…” And sex. We can have lots and lots and lots of sex.

“I could cook!” Chloe says, and Clark feels himself frown and draw back.

He really doesn’t want to eat anything cooked by Chloe. “Or we could get pizza,” he suggests with an encouraging smile.

Chloe narrows her eyes, but Clark can tell she’s not remotely offended. She takes perverse pride in the fact that she’s domestically hopeless.

“Fine,” she says. “Eight o’clock okay with you?”

Clark nods and gets up to leave. He should really zip home and change his clothes before work. He walks over to Chloe, and they look at each other with dopey smiles on their faces. Clark leans down and kisses her quickly on the lips.

“I might see you around the office,” he says.

“Bye.” Chloe’s smile is Clark’s favorite thing in the whole world.

He makes his exit, wondering how the hell he’s going to get through the day. He’s already planning to jerk off the moment he gets home, but still, twelve hours is a long time to wait for sex. Clark wonders if Chloe was really serious about eating dinner and hanging out. Despite the fact that he suggested it, he’d be quite happy if they skipped that part.


It was, in fact, the longest day in the history of Clark’s life, and the only thing that made it bearable was seeing Chloe for ten minutes at three in the afternoon, when, unable to stand it any longer, he marched into her office, grabbed her by the arm and dragged her out to the fire exit stairwell where he pushed her up against the wall and kissed her breathless.

They made out until Clark got so hard he couldn’t see straight, and he was just about to turn Chloe around, push up her dress, unzip himself, take out his cock and then fuck her right there, when Chloe pushed him away and sternly whispered that they both had to get back to work.

As if Clark could work in that state. He’s not a robot.

But he’d survived the day intact, and now he’s pressing the buzzer of Chloe’s apartment.


“It’s me,” he says and she buzzes him up.

He walks up the stairs and by the time he makes it to Chloe’s door he’s hard. Again. What is wrong with him?

Clark knocks on the door and he hears Chloe yelling, “It’s open!”

Once inside, he frowns. Where’s Chloe?

She appears and she’s wrapped in a fluffy white towel and her hair is wet and all over the place and she’s naked under the towel, Clark notes with interest, and she’s looking at him as if to say, what the hell are you doing here?

“You’re early,” she accuses. “Very early.”

Clark frowns. “What time is it?”

“Half seven! I’m not even ready!”

Oh that’s right. It was eight he was supposed to come over. But he doesn’t understand what the problem is. Chloe looks ready to him.

He strides over and wraps his arms around her and she leans her head back to give him access to her mouth. Clark picks her up as he kisses her, the towel unravelling under his hands, and she wraps her legs around him, god, she’s nearly naked, and Clark zips them both into the bedroom and throws her on the bed.

The damp towel is spread out under her, and Chloe’s naked body is the most welcoming thing Clark has ever seen. Light brown skin, full breasts, hard dark pink nipples; Chloe’s so pretty. Clark wants to runs his hands over the curve of her belly, he wants to know what her ass and thighs feel like to touch.

He strips in super time and dives onto the bed.

Chloe’s so warm and inviting, and Clark kisses her feverishly, her mouth, all over her face, and he pushes his body against hers and runs his hands up and down her sides, the softest curves, the silkiest skin. Clark can’t wait to be inside her.

“Clark--“ Chloe whispers breathlessly. “There’s a condom on the bedside table,” and Clark looks over and sees not one, but five or six condoms in a pile on the wooden surface. He laughs and rolls off Chloe so he’s lying on his back. Reaches over, grabs a condom and looks down at his cock, which is nearly flat on his belly.

He fumbles a little with the wrapper, causing Chloe to hiss, “Quickly,” at him. But finally he gets it open, gets the condom out and rolls it on without any further mishaps. And then Chloe’s suddenly astride him, and she’s holding his cock by the root and positioning herself over it, and then he’s--oh god, finally--sliding inside her. Wet silken heat enveloping his cock, hot female body under his hands.

She starts to move up and down, and they find a rhythm easily. Chloe’s moans are increasing in volume steadily and quickly, and Clark wants to keep fucking her forever, but within about ten seconds she’s throwing her head back and her bouncing is suddenly ragged and her face is contorted and she’s, oh god, she’s coming, and it hardly took any time at all. Clark feels very good about himself right now, and he continues to thrust.

Chloe looks vaguely exhausted, so he slows down a little and then her mouth is on his, and they’re tonguing each other, and why the hell haven’t they been doing this for years?

“Oh Clark,” Chloe moans into his mouth, and then she pulls back and they’re still moving against each other, Clark’s still fucking his cock into her and looking into her eyes. “That was so good, god that was so good. Oh god.” Both panting and groaning. “Clark… I want to do something to you…”

Anything you want, Chloe. Their skin is wet with sweat, and Chloe’s breasts are sliding against Clark’s chest and he will give her anything she wants.

Except that Chloe puts all her weight onto her knees, grabs the bottom of Clark’s cock and climbs off him. Clark splutters in protest. “What are you doing?” he asks, panicked.

Chloe leans over and kisses him thoroughly on the mouth and then says in a mysterious voice, “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

That’s just not fair. Is Chloe trying to kill him? Clark watches her disappear out of the bedroom with wide, confused eyes and a hard, not-remotely-satisfied cock, and as every second drags on, he becomes more and more worried that something terrible might have happened to her which would prevent her from ever coming back into the room, and they might never get to finish the sex. He wraps a hand around his cock, for comfort, and absently strokes himself, eyes fixed on the door. He’s still wearing the condom and he’s not prepared to take it off yet. He hasn’t given up hope.

After what feels like hours, Chloe pokes just her head around the door. “Close your eyes and keep them closed until I say,” she says cheerfully and Clark obeys instantly. Thank god. Anticipation is welling up inside his chest.

He can feel Chloe’s weight on the bed again, and it’s torture not being able to open his eyes, but he doesn’t want to annoy Chloe in case she decides to stop having sex with him again, so he squeezes his eyes shut tighter and prays for permission to open them again soon.

“Okay,” Chloe says.

Clark’s eyes fly open and--

Oh dear god.

Clark can’t believe what he’s seeing and he knows he’s gaping and that his mouth is hanging open and that he’s lost the ability to think, talk, do anything, but really, it’s not his fault.


She’s kneeling on the bed, facing him, the sauciest smile on her face, but she’s no longer completely naked.

Chloe is wearing something now. Something that Clark has only ever seen on certain websites and in certain magazines, never in real life. He didn’t even realize they actually existed. Clearly they do.

The thing seems to be strapped onto her like a belt, but not. It’s leather, and are they panties? Clark has no clue. Because it’s got… Clark blinks repeatedly… it’s got a big, hard, shiny, black dick attached to the crotch area.

Is he supposed to say something now?

He clears his throat. “What’s that, Chloe?”

Chloe looks at him like he’s a mildly retarded infant and patiently explains. “I want to fuck you.”

Clark wasn’t even aware that it was possible for his eyes to get any wider, but they do. “What?”

It’s not that he doesn’t understand what she’s saying, it’s that he doesn’t quite believe it. Chloe wants to… she wants to… with that… Why is Clark’s dick getting even harder at the thought of it?

“Clark. I think you’ll love it, I really do. And I know I’ll love it.” She crawls on top of him again and he can feel it, cold and stiff against his stomach, and then, almost as if Chloe knows exactly how to get what she wants from Clark, she straddles him and slides down onto his cock and starts fucking him again that way.

He groans and thanks heaven for small mercies, and although he tries to keep his eyes on Chloe’s face, they keep drifting down to Chloe’s… big black cock.

“Will you let me, Clark?” Chloe pants. “I think you should. Remember how good my fingers felt? Oh Clark. This will feel so much better.”

Clark bucks up hard, his eyes rolling back. “Have you done that… before?” he asks.

“No! Of course not. I went out and bought it today.”

“They have shops that sell them?”

“No, Clark. I magicked it out of thin air.”

Clark tries to distract Chloe from the inevitable. “Where’d you get it?” he asks, as Chloe rides him.

“Toys in Babeland,” she answers breathlessly.

“Aha. Where’s that?”



Think of something else to say, Clark. Think of something else to say. “Was it expensive?”

“It actually was, yes.” A blinding grin. “But worth it, I’m sure.”

Clark knows he’s blushing. Knows he wants Chloe to do it as much as he wants her not to. “I don’t know, Chlo’” he says.

“Don’t be a prude, Clark. Just trust me.” And then Chloe’s off him again, and his cock feels cold without her. “Turn over,” she whispers, and Clark looks at her uncertainly for a few more seconds, raises his eyes to the ceiling, asks himself what he’s doing, then turns over and pulls off the condom, chucking it behind him, onto the floor.

He’s on all fours and he feels more than a little silly and quite, quite vulnerable.

“Clark,” Chloe says, sounding pleased. “You look so hot like that. Do you have any idea how hot you look?”

Clark basks a little in the compliment and feels less stupid. Especially when Chloe’s fingers--slick with the baby oil he’d noticed on the dresser earlier--are being pushed inside him again. This time he doesn’t come straight away, but damn, he loves the feeling. She’s getting his ass ready for… for the dildo, which is–

“This was the biggest one I could find, Clark,” Chloe breathes out. “I really want you to feel it.”

And that’s all the warning he gets before she’s pushing inside him and filling his ass up with long, black, oily cock.

“How does it feel, Clark?”

Clark holds himself still, getting used to it, still unable to believe this is actually happening, but it is and he likes it… yeah, he likes it a lot. Then Chloe’s pulling out of him and then in again. Slamming in to his ass with surprising strength and Clark feels it everywhere. He’s being fucked by a beautiful woman wearing a strap on and there’s no place he’d rather be.

Chloe starts thrusting in hard and fast and Clark has to grab his own cock and start jerking himself off, because he needs to come soon and his cock is aching.

He loves Chloe’s grunts behind him. She’s working hard and Clark’s appreciative because he can’t see how doing this is going to be pleasurable for her. But then, she already came, so it’s definitely fair. And yeah, the size of the thing is about perfect, because every time she pounds in, it hits a spot that makes the whole experience a million times better than it was a thrust before.

Orgasm hits him like a freight train and he’s shooting all over the bedspread and not caring about that at all, and Chloe fucks him through it. He falls onto his face with his ass still in the air and gets a cheek full of come. Nice.

Chloe pulling the dildo out of him is about the strangest feeling ever, but he’s too spent to dwell on that. Coming is about the only thing that makes Clark understand what physical exhaustion might be like, because he always feels like sleeping afterwards, which he hears is normal. It’s good to be occasionally normal.

He’s now lying on his stomach and is spread eagled on the bed, possibly taking up too much room, and he wants to look around because he can hear Chloe behind him doing something, but it just seems like way too much effort to move so he doesn’t. Although he thinks he might actually purr when he feels Chloe wrapping her warm, cock-less, naked body around him.

It even makes him turn around so he can touch Chloe properly, and he grins at the sight of her happy expression.

“You look like that cat who got the cream,” Clark says.

She’s positively beaming. “That’s a very appropriate metaphor, Clark,” she says on a laugh.

It takes him a second to get it, then he giggles and drags Chloe into a bear hug. She feels like home.

“Clark!” she shrieks against his chest. “The bed’s all wet!”

“I know. I’m lying in it too.” If he can handle it, so can Chloe.

She squirms around for a few distracting minutes then finally settles down as Clark pulls the duvet over them.

“What shall we do tomorrow night?” Clark asks.

“You’re going on patrol is what you’re doing,” Chloe says.

Oh yeah. Clark does have things he should be doing. Dammit.

“And then you’re coming over here,” and that makes him grin into Chloe’s hair. “As early, as late as you want… I’ll be waiting…”

She looks up at him then, and they stare at each other for a while, little smiles dancing on their faces, but there’s more in Chloe’s eyes than amused contentment.

It’s exactly the look that Clark wasn’t old or wise enough to understand when they were kids, but which now makes his heart swell. He kisses her gently on the mouth.

“I’ll be early,” he whispers.

The end.

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