SUBSTITUTION Three (Day 9)

Light, gentle fingers trail his scalp, threading through his hair. Feeling a slight weighted dip in the cushions, Clark groans trying to turn away from the invader of his space but his path is blocked. He grumbles in annoyance, the hand combing through his hair is relentless... comforting but relentless. Don't they get the hint? Why can't she just leave him alone? He shifts again, head hitting the back of the couch hard, Clark lets out a growl of frustration. The invader's hand moves from his head to his shoulder, it's a delicate touch, a reassuring squeeze. It's an unwanted touch, is what it is. Yet he thinks twice before batting it away. That hand belongs to someone, most likely Lana, who can't seem to take a hint and he really doesn't feel like being responsible for breaking her hand, but she just wouldn't stop.

"Lana..." He grouches irritably. "... I don't want to have sex with you." He insists, his words muffled into the back of the sofa. How many ways does he have tell her... geez!

A loud sound of riotous laughter sounds from the kitchen, startling Clark into wakefulness. 'Lana' finally draws away from him, removing her hand from his shoulder and rises from her perch on the edge of the sofa. Clark blinks into the cushions. Where is he?

Turning over slowly, Clark recognizes the soft auburn locks flowing around the beautiful face of his mother, now sitting on the coffee table in front of him. His mother. Not Lana. His mother, who apparently is just as surprised as he, if her wide-eyes and slightly open mouth is any indication. His mother, who he happened to mention sex with Lana to. God, he's mortified.

"Mom?" Clark squeaks dumbfounded, unsure if he's more embarrassed or surprised. He looks away avoiding her eyes, settling on red faced to go with the hot blush he feels creeping to his cheeks. "I... we... you see..." He stutters.

Martha smiles knowingly at her son. This awkwardness and the rosy tint of his flushed skin, this she's used to. Having mercy on her rubescent child and ignoring Kara's snorting and giggles in the background she lulls, "It's OK baby."

He glances up hesitantly, "We..." He chokes, then takes a deep breath before continuing. "We're not having... " He grimaces, pained to have to say this to his mother, of all people. Choosing his words carefully he finishes. " ...not intimate in that way yet." Not as of late, is amended silently.

Attempting to let him off the hook a little and ease his embarrassment, Martha chuckles lightly. "I'm not worried Clark." He meets her eyes directly, offering a tentative shy smile. "Besides, from what I just heard, sounds to me as if you're not that interested." She smirks, eliciting another bout of hellacious laughter, snorts and now wheezing from Kara.

"Great." Clark mumbles, dropping his head back on the sofa cushions in sulking resignation, but immediately the resonance of the girl's heart beat pulsing in his ear claims his attention. Clark stills, muscles tightening in awareness, he quirks his head at the intrusive sound. Something's wrong. Why is she panting? Is she running? What is she running from? Is someone chasing her? 'Sorry. Sorry.' Her voice echo's in his head. What is she sorry for? Who is she talking to?

"I'll make breakfast... " Distantly, Clark hears his mother say. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Martha rise from her seat. He remains unmindful, nothing matters except this. Clark forcefully pushes his hearing forward, taking in more of her surroundings. Who was she talking to? She hasn't said a word since her apology.

A herd of pounding footfalls vibrate in his head, Clark cringes from the onslaught, pulling back slightly he lessens the ruckus of loud painful thumps. The shuffling of papers, the clacking sound of key strokes? He knows her whereabouts. 'Hey Sully!' a man greets. His voice sounding out clearly to Clark. He must be standing pretty close to her. Too close, in Clark's opinion, feeling the beast stir in his depths. 'Hey.' The girl sounds breathless.

Instantly he envisions the glorious sight of her chest heaving up and down, up and down with each deep drawn inhale, exhale, and wonders what top she has on? Is she showing any skin? Clark bites his lip hard to keep from groaning at the vivid imagery. He's almost certain, she's revealing bountiful cleavage. Can everyone see her downy flesh? Can the 'too close' man see her...? A rumble, almost like a snarl escapes from his chest. The beast bristling territorially. Clark flexes his hand at his side, his body taut with tension. Then the man speaks again. 'Grant, wants to see you... I think you're late and...'

A soft hand on his shoulder pulls Clark back to himself and away from the Daily Planet. Blinking rapidly, he notices Martha hovering over him, the concern in her eyes complimented by the kind smile gracing her lips. "Are you OK honey?"

Forcing his muscles to relax, he draws a deep breath. He's fine. It's that reporter girl with all the 'too close' men ogling her, that his mother should be concerned about. She's trying to work, damn it! These perverts should know the Daily Planet is no place to try to pick up women? Doesn't she know that when she wears those low cut tops that everyone can see her and...

"Clark?" Martha's voice cuts through his mental diatribe.

He nods immediately, to the prior question. "Fine. I'm fine." He says gruffly.

Once again, sitting on the adjacent coffee table, Martha presses. "Are you sure Clark?"

Reluctantly, Clark rises to a sitting position to meet her eyes directly. If there's one thing that he hates, it's adding unnecessary distress to his mom's life. Nodding again, in hopes to relieve her concern, Clark forces a dry smile, a smile Martha notices doesn't quite reflect the hazy unrest in his eyes. "I'm sure Mom." Clark swallows, a frown etched across his face, opening his mouth to speak, when a quiet giggle draws his attention. Turning his head toward the laughter coming from the kitchen, Clark sees Kara fluttering around, probably helping his mom prepare breakfast. Her mouth is moving as if she's talking to herself. He perks his ears to listen in.

"Mating with his pet." She mumbles followed by a light giggle. "He'd probably break her." Another chuckle.

Clark narrows his eyes at his oblivious cousin, "I can hear you, you know." Crossing his arms over his chest he huffs, slumping to the back of the sofa. Martha watches bemused by his switch in demeanor and amused at his childish display. "And I don't appreciate you making fun of my power control problems Kara!" He pouts.

Having been found out, Kara guffaws. "I am not referring to your unfounded psychosomatic anxieties." The blonde chortles, shaking her head at his naivete, then adds with much levity. "It is all very ridiculous really."

Clark stands quickly, insulted by her blatant disregard for his very real intimacy concerns. "Ridiculous?" He asks harshly, marching indignantly into the kitchen. "Ridiculous?" He repeats, his voice beginning to rise.

"Clark, honey calm down." Martha consoles, following them into the kitchen.

Ignoring his mother's soft plea, he glares at the haughty Kara Zor-El. Miffed, she thinks she knows everything. "You wait Kara. When you fall in love with someone and want to... to be with him." He stumbles upon the last few words. Geez, he can't believe he's having this conversation, with his mom - he glances hesitantly at her out of the corner of his eye - yup, with his mom looking right at him, but how dare Kara speak so lightly, and have the audacity to joke about his problems like this. Clark continues, "You just wait. And you'll see, it's not... ridiculous." He sneers.

"Oh please Kal... " she begins, rolling her eyes at Clark's sheer doltishness, Kara faces him head on, her hands sturdy on her hips. Fleetingly Clark wonders why she always adopts that pose in confrontations, then shakes his head at the stray insignificant thoughts.

"Our people have been interbreeding with humans for centuries." She informs him matter of fact. Once she notices his eyes widen slightly in realization, Kara turns, grabbing the heavy mixing bowl, then continues, smirking to herself, her back toward him, only Martha seeing the mischief in her blue eyes. . "Your inability to perform, is all up here." she taps lightly on her head. "Besides I was not speaking of your neurosis."

Her words having affected his heated emotions like the downpour of cold water. Feeling appropriately chastised Clark frowns, his eyes downcast. "Then why did you say, I would break her?" He sullenly asks the tiled floor.

"Kara!" Martha gasps. She had no idea, that's how this conversation started, having not heard Kara's initial jokes.

Kara shifts to view him over her shoulder. "You Kal are a mammoth..." she turns fully toward him and snorts, "...and your pet, she is miniature."

Clark's frown deepens at her description, while his mother is aghast. "Kara!" Martha admonishes. "That's not a very nice thing to say." Yet Clark could interpret the hidden amusement laced in her rebuke.

Kara must have noticed too, because she begins to giggle, turning to face his mother... "Sorry Aunt Martha, but it is the truth." Not a hint of remorse to be found. "She is not even a life-sized human." She chuckles. "I mean I know it is highly improbable but can you imagine her attempting to carry Kal's child?" Shivering, horrified at the thought regardless of her intentional mirth, Kara adds "She would most likely crumble under the weight to her diminutive frame."

Clark can hear his mother's reproachful words to Kara, over a thinly veiled smile. Words like, 'You shouldn't...' and 'it's not polite to...,' but he pays no attention. Leaning against the kitchen counter, his mind sifts through all of the women he's ever been attracted to. He can concede to Kara's point. Lana is very tiny. Actually the smallest out of all of them... except for the girl. But even she has trim alluring curves and smooth shapely legs, and her full creamy breasts... Clark licks his lips in his imaginings. The tender touch of her delicate hands on his arms, the pillowy soft feel of her supple breast against his chest, the fit of her trim beautiful body plastered to...

"What did you mean 'it's not likely'?" His mother's purposeful voice yet again brings him back. Lana. He blinks. He loves Lana. Clark reminds himself, a little alarmed by the direction of his thoughts.

Martha continues, her genuine interest is unmistakable. "You said, we've been breeding with your people for a long time?" This... this is what she's been missing all of these years. For the first time, Martha realizes she actually has a knowledgeable Kryptonian in her midst. For so long, she and Jonathon were in the dark on how to care for Clark. How to manage raising a boy with such unique biology. For so long they just used the patented approach of playing it by ear, merely winging it. But now, she can't... wouldn't pass up this opportunity. Kara is definitely a God-send.

Clark stands by quietly awaiting Kara's response. He too, is interested in what she has to say. He'd never admit it openly to anyone besides his mother and Chl... the girl, but he hates that he knows so little about himself and his own body. And to add to that, his body's affect on humans.

"Well..." Kara begins thoughtfully. She straightens her stance, all the mirth gone from her demeanor. "On Krypton, it was impossible to bear a child outside of your life-mate bond."

Now Martha's really intrigued. Absently placing the forgotten spatula on the counter. "What's a life-mate?" She inquires.

Clark rolls his eyes and grumbles at the question. Here it comes, he huffs mentally not really wanting to hear anymore about life-mates or soul-yearnings and who is and who isn't. Yet he can't ignore the beast's awakening effect at the word. He can almost feel it's awareness deep in the caverns within him.

The blonde Kryptonian ignores her cousin's rude response as she addresses the rapt Martha Kent. "A life-mate is the equivalent of a soul-mate. But on earth, you do not necessarily have to commit to your soul-mate or bind in marriage. On Krypton, one usually is bound to their soul's partner, both spiritually and physically in a life-mating ceremony, much like marriage. It is not only tradition but a biological imperative."

She holds out her arm, bringing attention to the bracelet on her wrist. "This bracelet is a symbol of the life-mate bond, like a wedding band. It was given to me by my Aunt Lara, Kal's... " Kara hesitates, glancing sorrowfully between her quiet cousin and Martha.

"His biological mother." Martha smiles, attempting to ease Kara's obvious worry. "It's OK Kara. I know about Lara." She pats Kara's hand affectionately, assuring the girl that she did not take offense.

Brightening immediately, Kara returns Martha's smile and continues with her 'lesson'. "It is not mandatory that you tie with your soul's partner. But if one wishes to reproduce successfully, it is a must." Kara frowns, her eyes going unfocused in her concentration. "There have been known cases where conceptions occurred outside of the bonded life-mates, but those always resulted in the death of the fetus. The child needs the intertwined essences of the parents to survive gestation." She looks back to Martha. "Here on earth, one such attempt would most likely be fatal to the mother as well." Then she shrugs, as if brushing off the morbid thoughts, "This is why I said it is most likely improbable for Kal and his pet to conceive."

Martha nods in understanding, then stills, frowning in thought. "Why would you think Lana's not Clark's life-mate?" She has her doubts as well, but is genuinely interested in Kara's observation. The Kryptonian girl has only been out of stasis a short while. It surprises Martha that she has already come to that particular conclusion.

Clark groans out loud, definitely disgruntled at his mother's inquiry. Both women ignore him, he might as well not even be in the same room.

Kara scoffs. "It's so obvious. She is not his match, it's a wonder Kal doesn't see."

His mother nods lightly, accepting Kara's simple answer, then whispers to herself, "I agree." As she picks up the spatula and turns toward the stove.

Clark's eyes widen in surprise at his mother's reveal. Staring in bewilderment at her back. Doesn't she like Lana? His mom knows how much he loves her. Why hadn't she said anything before? Clark crosses his arms over his chest, beginning to feel slightly ganged-up on. This is ridiculous, he thinks. It doesn't matter what these women think. He pouts, unfolding his arms and shoving his hands into his pockets. He loves Lana and will make his own decision, damn it!

Walking slowly toward the stairs, he mumbles glumly, "I need to start my chores."

"OK honey." Martha turns her head toward him smiling sweetly, ignoring her son's melancholy. "Breakfast will be ready once you're done." She finishes, bring her attention back to the sizzling bacon. "We'll talk afterward." She predicates to his disappearing back.

--

After his short trip to the Talon for her morning pick-up, in which he hoped the ladies in the house hadn't noticed his absence and finally speeding through the morning chores, Clark sat with Martha and Kara at the kitchen table scarfing down his mother's much needed and dearly missed breakfast.

The table is silent, nary a word being spoken. This quiet only aids in preventing interruption from his wandering attention. Which consists of following the steady and sometimes slightly elevated rhythm of the girl's heart until 'Yeah, yeah yeah!' She sing-songs ecstatically. Clark quirks his head in interest. What's she so excited about? He can almost hear her pumping her fists in the air. A slow smile tugs at the corners of his lips in response to the image. Until Lois' voice turns it into a frown. 'Great job cuz.' She praises. 'Bout time Grant took the perpetual stick out of his ass! Bastard never prints one of my articles.'

"She's getting an article printed." Clark whispers proudly. Not even realizing he spoke out loud.

This grabs Martha's attention. "Who? Chloe?" She inquires, noting his abrupt response, in the tension of his posture. For the last half-hour, she's been sitting silently across from her son observing his detachment with open regard. And what triggers her concern, is that he hadn't even noticed her blatant scrutiny. Yet now he seems alert and so rigidly taut, any strain can crack him.

Why would his mother ask about that girl? She doesn't matter. Unimportant. What matters is... Clark's head snaps up. "Where's Lana?" He counters brusquely. She's supposed to be her. Where the hell is his girlfriend when he needs her?

Martha blinks. Surprised at his terse and honestly irrelevant question, she definitely hadn't been expecting that. "She wasn't here when I arrived." She answers slowly, still completely astonished.

"She left for Isis, pretty early." Kara informs without preamble. For her part, she's gotten used to her baby cousin's transient moods. Only glad, that now she has proof of the place he goes in his head, when in distraction. So it is Chloe! She nods to herself internally, adding this confirmation to her invisible file.

"Honey... you said something about an article?" Martha probes, hedging lightly.

He lowers his eyes to his half eaten plate. "I don't want to talk about it." He dismisses curtly, shoving a piece of bacon into his mouth. Ever. He never wants to talk about it. Why is she harassing him about that girl?

--

Once the uncomfortably silent breakfast is concluded and the kitchen is cleaned, Kara makes herself conveniently scarce, something about needing to be at the Talon and a date with the pipsqueak photographer... Clark didn't know. And truthfully he didn't care, all that matters is that Kara left him, abandoned him to have the dreaded conversation with his mother.

Martha sits quietly across from him at the kitchen island, nursing an after breakfast coffee. Her eyes are narrowed in speculation and study of her son.

While Clark, head bowed toward the table, studies the fascinating lines and indentations of his hands, waiting. He doesn't want to talk about what he's sure his mother wants to talk about, so if she wants to talk about it, she will have to be the one to bring it up. He'll just wait. He can wait forever if he has to... well at least until 2pm. He has to pick up Chl... her afternoon fix at that time. But then, he can come back here if his mother wants and continue the waiting.

Hmm? Clark frowns. He'd never noticed he didn't have callouses. He recalls the slight irritation in his hands from the summer he lost his powers. The summer of normality, he likes to call it. Clark narrows his eyes at his palm zooming in to inspect his flesh. Chl... she has callouses on her fingertips, maybe not callouses, because they aren't rough. But he can tell, she types consistently. Ever since he's known her, she's been a typer. Always behind some computer. Shit, she carries her laptop around with her where ever she goes. She even has an extra. Clark looks up and around him. Where is that other laptop anyway?

"Clark?" Martha finally speaks. "What's going on with you?" No use in beating around the bush. Let's get straight to the point.

"Nothing."

She reaches out her hand, placing it over his on the counter. "Clark, sweetie. I've been here only this morning, and I've seen how distracted you are." She pauses in inspection then asserts slowly. "What's going on?"

Clark shakes his head lightly, "I've just got a lot on my mind, that's all."

Her son has always been pretty closed off, playing his hand close to his chest. Stubbornness in the Kent men is a force to be reckoned with, but she's also a Kent woman, and refuses to let this slide. "You disappeared for two days Clark. What about that?"

"What about my cousin learning to mind her own business?" He sneers without thought, then gulps remembering his mother and begins to stammer. "I mean... she... I... what did...?" He sighs heavily, unable to find his words.

"Kara was just concerned about you Clark, and I'm glad she called me, something is clearly wrong." She rubs her hand affectionately over his. Choosing to ignore his outburst.

"It's nothing." He grouses.

Martha breathes deep, "It's something Clark. People don't just runaway for two days for nothing."

"I... " Clark hesitates, and swallows hard. He knows it's going to come out eventually, but he'd do anything to stall the inevitable. "... I just had a lot on my mind and needed to get away. That's all."

The Senator's eyes narrow into slits at his half-assed explanation. "And you didn't bother to inform anyone." Martha's voice begins to rise along with her aggravation. "What is it that takes so much thought that you had to disappear? What was it that needed so much space you had to go away from your home in order to ponder on it?"

He doesn't have an answer. Really, what can he say? God when was the last time, he'd felt this small. Clark remains silent boring holes into their clasped hands.

Taking a steadying breath for calm, she presses lightly. "Clark. Why didn't you call me? If something's bothering you, you can always talk to me." She pauses, then adds. "Did you tell Chloe what's going on?"

And there it is. Instantly, Clark tenses. His hands locking together hard beneath hers.

He doesn't look up, his voice is low and menacing when he responds. "She and I aren't speaking."
Martha frowns, rubbing her hand over his rock hard fists, trying in vain to soothe the obvious tension in her son. "What do you mean Clark?"

Clark abruptly jerks his hands off of the counter and away from his mother's comforting touch. He doesn't want her comfort. He just wants to be left alone, but apparently that isn't going to happen. Raising his head slowly, he meets his mother's concerned eyes with a steely gaze of his own. "We aren't friends anymore!" His words come out sharp and clipped.

She shakes her head, "That's absurd honey. You and Chloe have been friends for eight years. Friends just..."

"Not anymore." Clark cuts in derisively. "We had a big fight and now we aren't." We're nothing to each other now! That girl means nothing!

His mother looks down at her coffee cup in contemplation, before taking a sip. "What did you fight about?" She wonders if it had anything to do with Chloe needing some space, he told her about a week ago.

He shrugs, his muscles so stiff, the motion looked oddly robotic. "I guess she didn't like the fact that I forgave Lana so easily and wanted space. When I tried to talk to her about said space... she got angry, I got angry." He turns to look out the window towards the fields. "We had a fight." His matter of fact explanation belying the rigidity in his posture.

Before she can speak, Clark's head snaps back to her, "Can you believe she had the nerve to call me selfish? Me. Selfish."

Martha grimaces slightly into her cup. "Well, I think you're selfishness, comes from me and your father." She answers thoughtfully.

"What?" He shakes his head vehemently. "I am not selfish! I'm not!... Do you really think I'm selfish?"

"Well Clark..." She begins slowly, unsure of how he'll take what she's about to say. " ...when it comes to protecting and helping others, you are very selfless." She offers a proud smile, then adds. "But... you do have the tendency to think of only what you want."

A deep frown hardens into his features as his mother continues. His own mother, siding with the enemy. "But like I said, I believe most of that is the result of my and Jonathan's coddling of you."

"You did not coddle me." He pouts, folding his arms across his chest.

Martha nods, answering also in self reflection. "We did. We spent so much time focusing on your abilities, how unhappy about them you seemed at times... that I think, unknowingly we may have overcompensated when it came to things that weren't related to them."

"That's not true." Clark shakes his head sullenly.

She looks at him for a long moment, pondering on the influence their parenting mistakes have had on him as an adult. "We did Clark." She reaffirms quietly. Ignoring his blatant denial, she pushes on. "What happened during Lana's and Lex's wedding or even their engagement?"

Clark head shoots up, "That's not fair."

"Isn't it?" She says sadly. "Was it fair to Lex? Was it fair to that unborn child?"

Clark sputters, "Lana wasn't even pregnant." His only rebuttal. He hates what she's implying. Lana loves him, wanted to be with him, not Lex. What was he supposed to do?

"Neither one of you knew that at the time." Martha ripostes easily. "And what happened the summer you lost your powers?"

Clark purses his lips together tightly. Where exactly is she going with this?

"Nothing mattered to you, except you and Lana. You ignored your father, you ignored me, you ignored your friendship with Chloe at times."

Clark frowns, his eyes diverting to the counter. "That's not true." He whispers.

"And then there's Chloe... " Overlooking the change her name evokes in him, she goes on. " ...for years you knew how she felt about you... " He swallows hard shaking his head, not wanting to hear what he knows she's going to say. Almost ready to cover his ears with his large hands. But his stupid super-hearing, he'd still hear her. " ...you knew, but yet inconsiderately went to her for advice about your relationship with Lana, time and time again, blatantly ignoring her feelings."

Clark pushes up from the counter so suddenly, he blurs. The innocent stool hitting the floor with a loud clatter. "I've never ignored her feeling!" He protests, almost shouting. The beast inside him thunderously rumbling. "She dumped me! She disregarded me!" He slaps his palm against his chest so hard, the sound vibrates through the kitchen, causing Martha to jump back startled at his intensity. "No one seemed to care about my feelings! CHLOE gave a shit about my feelings!" The beast snarls and claws in his chest, burning, searing and hot, begging to be released. Clark's nostrils flaring with his breath coming in frantic heaving pants.

Martha rises slowly from her stool, crossing toward him cautiously. "Clark, baby, please calm down." She begs, her eyes wide with concern.

The plaintiveness in her tone grips something in him, pushing him to make himself relax, or more precisely, harness himself. Taking a few deep breaths, Clark can feel his muscles trembling from the effort of restraint. He prays his mother doesn't notice. He hates to hear his mom beg. Even worse, he hates that he's frightened her. "She disregarded me first mom and then again after Zod." His voice is small and choked as if he's holding back tears. "How was I supposed to know?"

He shuts his eyes tight against the invasion of her solace, as Martha closes her arms around him, whispering and cooing in his ear. He doesn't want this right now. Not from his mother. Not from her. Pulling back from her hold, Clark steps away, distancing himself from the comfort he knows resides in her presence. "And now she's left me again." he says morosely. Eyes trained on the floor.

"Baby, she didn't leave you." Martha takes a tentative step towards him.

Looking up at his mother, this perfect woman, Clark's eyes are weary. He swallows before speaking. "Yeah, she did." He says sadly. "It's over!"

Martha opens her mouth to speak, another attempt to refute his words, but he cuts her off. "...and so is this conversation." His tone is like steel. "Mom, I am asking you to drop this now."

Eyeing him intently for a long silent moment, Martha finally acquiesces, nodding lightly. Having made a decision, she crosses over to the counter for her cell phone and checks the clock on the wall. Only 9:30 am.

"While I'm in Kansas, I've scheduled a business meeting in Metropolis, might as well kill two birds with one stone." She says lightly. Turning to Clark, she sees him nod curtly. "I shouldn't be long. I'll be back in time to make dinner." Grabbing her purse and rental keys, she walks toward the back door. "Tell Lana we're having a family dinner tonight. Everyone's coming." She turns back to Clark before exiting, making sure he understands her perfectly. "I mean, everyone." And then she's gone.

Clark knows who she's referring to, but something in him adamantly denies his mother's certainty. She won't come. It's over.

--

"Fancy meeting you here... Of all the barns, in all the towns, in all the world, I walk into yours." Chloe says brightly, as she comes to a stop at the top of the stairs.

Lounging back on the old worn couch, Clark's eyes rake over his best friends form, from her lightly painted toe-nails, her tiny feet wrapped snugly in flat sandals, up her perfectly smooth calves, to her soft silken thighs, revealed under her denim mini-skirt, riding sensuously on her curvy hips. His eyes continue their blessed journey north, to her tight halter-top, melted over her flat stomach. And their it is, her supple flesh, peeking through the top, begging to be seen. Clark licks his lips in automatic response to their plea. Her skin having a light peachy hue, he craves to taste her. Up to her slender, delicate neck, his eyes devour. Her plum lips curve in a flirtatious smile, and her jeweled eyes sparkle with merriment. He wants this. He wants her. His body automatically reacts to her presence. Awakening from a deep slumber. Every nerve in his body, itches with longing to be touched by her soft exquisite hands. It's been too long. He needs this, needs her.

"I didn't think you'd come back." He says, staring intently into the depths of her emerald orbs.

Chloe bounces forward to him, her movement giddy and energetic, a stark contrast to his desperate desire and ravenous hunger. And how, is he hungry. Clark's gaze diverts to her thighs as she nears, studying the flex of the muscle with each step. He grits his teeth, the desire to nibble and tease is overwhelming him. He's forced to shut his eyes at the staggering sensation as she stands over him.

"I will always come back Clark." Is her response to his statement, but what had he said again? His brain short circuits as she lowers herself on top of him, straddling his thighs. Clark's eyes pop open as everything in him stands at attention. "In fact..." she amends slowly. Her hands kneading his shoulders, leaning in closer, she whispers "I've never left."

His hands slide up her creamy thighs, spread across both of his. Drawing circles and erroneous patterns on her downy skin. Until he grabs her hips roughly to prevent her from moving. The beast pants feverishly in his depths, he can feel it drawing closer to the surface, seeking direct contact, reaching for her rays of sunlight. Trying to pull her closer, he needs her closer, he needs her flat against him, but she won't move. His strength appears to be useless with her. So he tilts forward, burying his head in the crook of her neck. Her pulse calling him, speaking words of comfort and contentment.

"Are you my life-mate?" Clark whispers against her skin. His lips grazing her silken neck.

Chloe trails her fingertips slowly up his throat, tickling the sensitive flesh. His body sizzles from the contact. Burning from the light brush of her attention.

"That would be telling, now wouldn't it?" She smiles mischievously.

"I want to know. I have to know." Clark breathes, his fingers digging into the flesh of her waist.

He needs more. More than this. More of Chloe. In answer to his silent plea, Chloe pulls closer to him. Her breasts pressing ardently and wholly against his heaving chest. Winding her arms around him, she moves her hands to his waist and under his shirt, flattening her palm against his heated skin. Now he's burning, crackling from the inside out. The beast bangs continuously now right below the surface, encouraged by the direct connection to the energy and sustenance from her light.

"Your choice does not hinge upon my answer one way or another Kal-El. There for my answer is irrelevant."

Clark brushes his lips against the pulse of her neck, his hands glide hungrily from her waist to the small of her back, massaging, kneading, beckoning. "Do you know how much you mean to me?" He can hardly breathe, with her so close. With her hands on his skin, moving and demanding... yet not. It's strange and inexplicable, her touch is gentle and almost calming, but yet it awakens everything primal and ravenous in him. He needs more.

"I do know what I am to you." Her statement is simple, although it provokes so many questions in him. She adds, "The question is do you?" Punctuated by placing a kiss behind his ear affectionately, tenderly. Clark's body trembles at the contact, the beast yowls, clashing his insides in demand for more.

"I know." Clark gasps.

Chloe pulls back slightly sliding her hands from his back to his waist, and the beast in him howls and stomps loudly in his chest. "You do not, Kal-El." She informs meeting the confusion in his blue-green eyes directly. Then placing her hand flat over his heart. "You are not ready to know."

Clark stares at her for an endless moment, his eyes diverting to her teasing mouth. Moving in to claim them, to claim her. Chloe swiftly pushes her hand between them. "You are not ready yet."

Frustrated, he raises his hands up, skimming over her smooth back under her top, he curls his hand around her delicate shoulders, trying vainly to pull her closer. "But when the time comes. I will be here." Chloe promises, repeating Clark's actions, as she lays flat against his stomach. Her own hands under his shirt, searing and branding him. Binding him to her. Her head laying motionless against the juncture of his neck and shoulder. Her warm breath caressing his throat. Her heart beat lulling him to relaxation.

Clark lies back against the old worn couch surrounded by the familiarity and comfort of his loft. His fortress of solitude, with Chloe, his beautiful best friend in his arms. It's not even nearly enough for him. But the time will come, she'd promised and he'll wait. He'll wait forever.