Title: The Substitute
Author: The Fallen Sky
Rating: M
Pairing: Chlark-ish
Summary: She wants it all, but she'll accept whatever he's willing to give.
Warning: Graphic sex
A/N: This is a one-shot and takes place in a future AU. Sorry for being vague, but it's a necessary evil.
Feedback is welcome. Enjoy!
He trails kisses along her jaw, down her neck and into the valley between her breasts. He pauses a moment, breathing in her scent. Then, he drags his tongue up the slope of her left breast before slowly circling it around the rapidly hardening peak.
A sharp gasp escapes her when his lips capture her nipple, and he begins gently sucking. Her back arches, and her hands tangle in his hair as she presses him closer. His response is to suck harder, which causes her inner muscles to clench tightly around the steely length buried deep inside her.
She whimpers in disappointment as he removes his mouth from her sensitive nub and tries to force him back to where she needs him, but to no avail. Her disappointment is short-lived, though, because he kisses his way over to her right breast and promptly begins suckling on the nipple there.
She sighs in contentment at the contact and the electric sensations it sends pulsing between her legs, which results in a fresh wave of liquid warmth pouring from her body.
He continues his oral ministrations, but his hips remain agonizingly still, much to her consternation.
She's desperate for him to start thrusting, to provide the delicious friction she so sorely needs to find release, but her voice refuses to work for anything other than squeaks, sighs and moans, so she begins writhing beneath him, attempting to create the friction on her own or get him to realize that she wants him to start moving.
He either fails to get the message or is cruelly teasing her, because he still doesn't move, and her frustration grows.
Just as she's about to reach her breaking point, he withdraws, nearly slipping from her body, and slams back into her, causing ripples of pleasure to spread from her core throughout her entire body.
A long, low moan of approval rumbles from her throat, and he repeats the movement, slowly sliding out before slamming back in.
He continues the pattern, finding a rhythm that has her panting and moaning in time with his every movement.
Seconds turn to minutes, and the minutes seem to drag on into hours as he slowly fucks her and suckles her breast.
At one point, his hand palms her left breast, kneading the flesh and rolling the nipple between his thumb and forefinger, gently pinching and pulling, heightening her pleasure even further.
She can feel the wave building, the spring coiling deep in her belly, and she begins clawing at his back.
She wants to tell him to go faster, to fuck her harder, but she can't find her voice. She tries to will him to change his pace, but he doesn't, and she gets the feeling that he wouldn't change his pace no matter what, not even if she begged him. She's at his mercy, and, much as she hates to admit it, she loves it.
She's teetering on the edge but unable to breech the final barrier to ecstasy. That is, until he bites down on her nipple, causing a sharp impulse of pain that mixes with the pleasure and finally breaks the dam, sending her tumbling over the cliff, unimaginably intense waves of pure, unadulterated ecstasy crashing over her, washing away all conscious thought and leaving her in a state of nirvana.
Time seems to stand still, and she's aware of nothing and everything, as if she's having an out-of-body experience.
As she slowly comes back to herself, the first thing she feels is her heart beating wildly in her chest, followed by her rapid breathing. Then, she can feel her nerve endings, alive and sparking with aftershocks of pleasure. A few moments later, she feels his length, still hard and still thrusting inside her.
His pace remains unchanged, and she marvels at his stamina and restraint.
Her legs, feeling like rubber, tighten around him, urging him deeper. She wants to feel him release inside her, wants to feel his liquid warmth filling her, wants it in the worst way.
She clings to him as he continues to pound away, and she feels the telltale signs of an approaching orgasm.
It hits her a moment later, and she cries out as pleasure courses through her entire body, not quite as intense as the first time, but no less satisfying.
Just as she's coming down from the high, she feels his rhythm falter, and he buries himself as deep as possible inside her. His mouth leaves her breast and seeks hers, their lips crashing together in a heated, soul-shattering kiss. She feels his cock swell and spasm as jet after jet of sticky liquid heat floods her body, filling her, which sets off a third and final orgasm, causing her inner muscles to pulse and milk his cock of every last drop of precious nectar.
They remain still for a moment, the silence of the room broken only by their heavy breathing and rapidly beating hearts.
Slowly, he pulls back and stares into her eyes.
She's struck by the raw emotion she sees reflected in his blue orbs, and her breath catches in her throat when he speaks, his voice rough.
"I love you, Chlo."
The words cause tears to sting her eyes, and she finally manages to find her voice, soft and husky.
"I love you too, Clark."
He looks at her a moment more before a small but brilliant smile lights up his face. She can't help but smile in return, his mood infectious.
He leans down and captures her lips in a tender, heartfelt kiss. She can feel his love for her, and it melts her heart, and she kisses him back with everything she has, trying to convey the love she has for him.
They spend the night cuddling, their naked bodies pressed together and curled around one another, trying to get as close as physically possible, wishing they were one instead of two.
When the morning comes, she wakes to find herself alone, just as she does every morning.
She had hoped, as she always does, that he'd be there, his arms wrapped around her, when she woke, had hoped that this time would be different.
She tries not to let the disappointment, the hurt, get to her, but it does. It always does.
Tears prick her eyes, and she scolds herself.
She knew this would happen, knew it from the first time he came to her, sad, depressed and broken. She knew it was a mistake to think that she could be there for him, offering him her body while trying to protect her heart. She knew he didn't love her, would never love her, but she couldn't resist the temptation, couldn't pass up the chance to be with someone as unique, special and wonderful as him.
She should've said no to him the first time, should've said no to him every time after that, but she didn't. She should say no to him the next time, tell him she can't do this anymore, can't have him for a few hours but not really have him, but she won't. She can't say no to him, doesn't want to say no to him.
She didn't think this would happen to her, didn't think she'd fall in love with him, but she did. She fell hard.
Now, she's trapped by her love for him, a prisoner of her desire, her need for him.
She wishes that he felt the same about her as she does for him, but he doesn't. And, the worst part is, she knows he'll never love her, not the way she wants him to.
And yet... And yet she can't bring herself to let him go, to end this...whatever it is they have.
No matter how much it hurts to know that she'll never truly have his heart and soul, she'd much rather have his body, for however long he'll allow, than not have him at all. If that makes her pathetic, then so be it.
Wiping the tears from her eyes, she gets out of bed and heads for the bathroom. Once there, she turns on the light and looks at her reflection in the mirror.
She studies herself, fascinated by what she sees, wondering what it is that keeps him coming back, but, deep down, she knows.
With a resigned sigh, she utters a few words and watches as her reflection changes. Her hair turns from short and blonde to long and raven. Her eyes turn from green to blue. Her skin turns from porcelain to olive.
She's looking at herself now, her true self. To her eyes, she looks gorgeous, far more alluring than the mask she puts on for him, which confuses her even more, makes her wonder what it is she doesn't have, what it is that he doesn't find appealing about her.
Blinking back fresh tears, she silently curses him, curses him for being too weak and gutless to go after what he really wanted, curses him for not telling Chloe how he felt about her before it was too late, curses him for not being able to move on and love someone else, curses him for using her and toying with her emotions, even if he doesn't realize he's doing it, curses him for making her fall in love with him, and curses him for making her a substitute for the woman he loves.
She eventually calms down and goes about her day, trying not to think about the sad state of her life.
As evening approaches, her anger and resentment are gone, locked away and forgotten.
By the time he arrives, she's got her mask firmly back in place and greets him with a smile and a kiss.
Events unfold as they always do, the two of them sharing dinner, talking about their days and eventually making love.
As their lovemaking nears its end, she finds herself hoping that he'll whisper her name as he comes, that he'll say, "I love you, Zatanna." when it's over and they're basking in the afterglow.
Her hopes are dashed, as they always are, but she swallows her pride and accepts what she has, hoping that her love for him will change his mind and win his heart...hoping that things will be different tomorrow.