Smallville AU

Kyle Early Tuesday morning

Something tells me that I am going to almost always be a step or two behind miss Chloe Sullivan.

And what was the Mardi Gras comment about anyway?

OH! That! I'm such a doofus!



I kept by the girls side and listened while Chloe worked he way into a active crime scene. I followed along behind, listening and watching, then I placed a hand on Chloe's shoulder and stopped her.

"Little ways up are two cops, both older so that your pretty eyes won't get you past them. Swing left and it should put you out of their sight. Also, I think i know where the bodies are. That room, by the tall bush, flashes like pictures have been going off in there for a while now. Everyone inside should be light-blinded enough that we can get a look."

Clark Kent Monday afternoon

Clark nodded as he looked around and saw that all the wasps had all left. "That's all we need is another case for Chloe's wall of weird. I'll be right back." Clark said as he disappeared leaving nothing but a gust of wind in his wake.

He returned a few seconds later with some wood, and some other materials. "And as for your door. Never let it be said that Clark Kent doesn't pick up after himself." By the time he had finished the sentence he had finished repairing the door. "That should do until I have more time to get you a new door. Now let's get some food."

Clark exited the house and went to his truck. He looked around briefly to see if there was anything strange in the area. He didn't see anything, so he got in and quickly picked up Lana's wet shirt, before John could see it. "Sorry about the seat, but it was rainning."

John tried with astral fingertips to grasp the last little traces of mental influence over the insects as they dispersed, but whomever had done this was elusive and quick. And it was gone, and he blew out a frustrated sigh.

It was an unusual thing for John, for there be something moving so fast he had to strain to see it, but that's how Clark moved in repairing his door, so fast John almost couldn't follow his movements. But then Clark was done, and John grinned at him appreciatively, and then they were walking outside.

Fortunately for the privacy of Clark's love life, time traveling stringers aside, John was standing out there as the drizzle fell down around him, his dark hair plastering to his skin, trickling down the edges and the folds of his jacket. He didn't see Clark discard Lana's wet shirt, not with any of his eight senses.

He didn't even phase. He just let the rain fall on him, and he held out his hands and he smiled a distant little smile.

"You guys don't know how lucky you are," he murmured, "you Earth-dwellers. Even in your deserts, the rain falls once or twice a year. On Mars... on Mars we haven't had liquid water for a thousand years. Not since the canals dried up."

He put his hands in his pockets and he walked to the truck.

"I would read about precipitation happening on other planets," he pondered, "and I always would wonder what that was like. It really is pretty amazing."

John tugged open the passenger door and put his palm on the seat, and arched an eyebrow.

"All the same," he smirked wryly, "did you leave your window wound down while this was going on? That is damp."

He climbed in, and he tugged the door shut behind him. He didn't bother with a seatbelt.

"Honestly Clark," he grinned, eyes twinkling red in their deepest depths, "between my door and your window... were you born in a barn?"

As lights swirl in the coming dawn, a silver BMW whips to the crime scene. Lex Luthor steps out, a cell phone in his hand, followed closely by an overweight man in fifties. Lex marches directly towards the feds. His devil may care grin sweeping over him. Looking very much like the cat-who-ate-the-canary.

"Excuse me... I am Lex Luthor. I need access to this scene. Now.

The agent turns and glares at Lex. "And why on God's green earth would I consent to that? You Luthor's think you own this country."

"The whole country? No. This land, yes. As the owner of the property I want to see what has been done. Also, I have a certain official in the Justice Department on the phone. Seems he is quite grateful that I got his son elected to that house seat last year. So, get your people out. Now. I have one hour." Lex nonchalantly tosses the phone to the agent as he heads to the house.

He smiles as he sees Chloe and her band of misfits.

"Miss Sullivan. I should have expected to see you here. Christ, Bullock, I am paying you enough to put all three of these kids through Harvard and they beat you here? Your fired. Don't talk. Leave. Miss Sullivan, would you and your... team... like a job? Seems we have a little mystery on our hands, and wouldn't you know it? Jabber Jaws, Speed Buggy and Josie and the Pussycats were all booked." Lex smiles as he sizes up the trio before him.

Rose, chocolate eyebrow arched, mumbled something about "crossover fanfic."

And Chloe chuckled: "I dunno, Rosy Mac. You don't think you'd look good in kitty ears and carrying a guitar?"

She couldn't believe this whole situation. And maybe it was making a problematic situation even more problematic? But Chloe was determined to see that crime scene even if she had to dangle herself from the gutter and glance in through the window...

...seeing the place in which The Duncans had died had become a matter of Life and Death.

"Tell you what, Miss Sullivan. I will personally install state of the art printing operations and computers for your paper. If you lend me your... expertise.

Chloe weighed this for a moment. So often Pete had sung the hymn that The Luthors were The Devil. But... innocent until proven evil, right? And Lex didn't. Seem. Evil.

But, it is written, 'The Devil masquerades as an Angel of Light.'

And Chloe didn't want to make any deals with any Devils she might come to regret later on.

"I'm not interested in your sense of quid pro quo," she decided, "but thank you. I just want to see this guy's ass nailed to the nearest vertical surface."

"Exactly what I hoped to hear Miss Sullivan. It is your unswerving adherance to Truth, Justice, and The American Way, I was counting on."

"All right, then. Let's unswerve, already," Chloe suggested, her hazel eyes hard and businesslike, detached and cool, an investigative Force of Nature. "'Lay on, MacDuff.'"

"However, if you can help me bring this bastard down, I swear to you, you will get a byline about this on more than a country bumpkin school paper."

"I don't mind the bumpkins," Chloe pointed out, carefully, "and I love this country. But so long as the Truth remains unvarnished, then we've got a deal."

"You have one hour Miss Sullivan. Make the best of it. And I want a detailed report by this afternoon."

Chloe couldn't help but grin a wry little grin. Seemed she owed everybody reports, these days. Reports and essays and theses, oh my: "You and Mrs. Granger both, Lex."

"My place after school. I will make sure that there are plenty of healthy snacks, maybe even milk and cookies if you kids do a really good job."

Lex smiles as he walks away. Giving a small wave to the federal agent still arguing on the phone. "Leave my friends alone. Don't make me get you in real trouble."

Lex gets back into his BMW and whirls it around, and peels into the coming morning.

Chloe turned to glance at Rose and at Kyle. Except Kyle was hiding behind a very startled Rose, for a change, and neither one of them looked pleased...

Kyle: Early Tuesday Morning

Lex Luthor!!!

HERE!!!

OH SHIT!!!

Now it was my turn to try & hide behind Rose. Everyone, and I mean everyone, said I looked like dad. The last thing I needed was a Luthor wondering why someone looking that much like Alec Greystone was hanging around a crime scene in Smallville!!

I might as well gut myself and save Bekka the trouble.


In the moments where I was more concerned about being noticed, I was only halfway listening to what Lex was saying, and by the time I had gotten myself out of the limelight Lex was peeling off and the FBI agent was standing there with a murderous look on his face.

Thats when everything Lex had said finally registered.

I don't care who that idiot thinks he is!!! This is a Federal crime scene now!! I want those kids arrested, Luthor put on notice that if he even speeds in front of me I WILL haul his ass in for questioning, and I want this area LOCKED DOWN!!!!

Deputies began moving while the Sheriff tried to calm down the FBI guy. I walked forward, easily avoiding the deputy and stopped in front of Agent Denham.

"Excuse me sir, but if I may, I think I have a way for you to keep your scene intact and to keep Mr. Luthor happy enough to stay out of your way."

"You got one minute kid. Talk, fast and good!"

"Well, take Chloe in. She has a good rapport with the local PD, and has always painted them favorably with the local paper, and has assisted on a investigation unofficially before as a consultant. Have her leave her phone here with the Sheriff, and put on protective boots and gloves to keep the scene intact. Sign her in, escort her, then sign her out. Your chain of control and evidence is uncompromised and you keep a loudmouthed billionaire out of your hide so you can catch this bastard. NO evidence gets fouled up, no unauthorized crime scene photo's, and it's all wrapped up."

I paused and subconsciously crossed my fingers. The agent stood there, and slowly, ever so slowly, the thunderclouds receded.

"Not bad kid. Not bad at all. Where the hell did you learn about preserving evidence?"

"I want to go into some form of law enforcement when I graduate, if i can. Plus I watch lots of Law and Order."

The agent barked out a laugh, then patted me on the shoulder. "OK kid, you get your free pass tonight. Now get your ass behind the line and wait for your friend to get back." He pointed a finger at Chloe. "Well, what are you waiting for, give him your phone and get over here so I can get back to catching this asshole."

Clark Kent: Tuesday Morning

Clark was up and ready to go like always well before dawn. It seemed as the older he got the less sleep he needed. A fact that came in handy to help him keep his A average since thanks to football and the farm he didn't always have time to do his homework at a decent hour. Even with superspeed Clark wasn't able to break the speed of light.

But this morning he found himself thinking about everything he had learned just a few days ago. How he was an alien from another world, not unlike John. Clark still hadn't told his friend that, he didn't feel comfortable with it. And yet he couldn't help but feel curious about who and what he was. He was looking at the artifact that seemed to be from the ship he had come in. He had been able to read it. He was wondering what other information was locked away in his head. When his alarm went off he put the artifact away in his tool box, and then made his way out to his truck. He had to pick up Lana, and was sure that John would be meeting him on their way to school.

Lana Lang

Skipping down the stairs Lana bounced her way into the kitchen. Her father issued something between a sigh a grunt as he acknowledged her presence. But Lana wasn’tsatisfied with that this morning, after all she hadn’t seen her dad for nearly 8 months.

From a certain point of view.

Pulling the newspaper he was reading out of the way, she gave him a peck on the cheek, and didn’t notice the way he dropped the paper as she turned and opened the fridge door.

Bending over she looked in, her long brown hair swaying free as she grabbed a banana and an orange. Turning she began peeling them and eating, the milk jug hooked by her pinky.

Pausing in her motion she looked at him, one eyebrow climbing to the ceiling as she asked, “What?”

“You’re not wearing anything..” her father mumbled as he blushed.

“Oh.. um.. running behind..” Lana stammered. Christ, she’d had her own place for so long she’d fallen into a habit of walking around naked. Time to change that habit..

Taking a quick jug of milk she turned again and returned the now half empty container to the fridge. With a wicked grin Lana left the kitchen and headed back upstairs, her hips swaying with a motion that no father should ever see his daughter make.

But then, the sight of milk dripping down her sun browned breasts, and slightly darker nipples, a father shouldn’t see either.

***

Bouncing down the stairs again Lana flounced out the front door only a few minutes later. She’d had to slow down for the water to actually get her wet and wash off, by drying her hair was a lot easier now, though it tended to get all tangled up when she spun around.

The screen door slammed shut behind her as she crossed the lawn and climbed into Clark’s truck. Scooting over she kissed his cheek and smiled. “So, what’s the plan for today?” she asked.

Clark Kent: Tuesday Morning

Clark had waited as long as he could for John, but when he saw it getting a bit late he moved on to Lana's house. If he was just running to school he could take his time, but since he was driving he couldn't afford to wait to long.

Within moments of his pulling into the Lang drive way he saw the door open and Lana coming in and quickly jumping into the truck. She kissed him and he kissed her back, defiantely something he was getting used to. "Well no practice today so going to help Chloe with some work at the Torch. Wanna help?" he asked as he put the truck in gear and drove off towards Smallville High.

Lana and Clark

"Nah, I have a few things I need to do today as well." Lana said, resting her hand on Clark's leg, and her head on his shoulder.

"Like what?' he asked as he took his right hand off the steering wheel and placed it on her shoulder. One of the good things about super-strength was that he never had problems controlling the car with one hand. "And do you have some new make up on or something, you look a bit different." he mentioned.

"Nope, same as usual. You could use some sprucing up though. Maybe some new cologne? Or maybe some after shave...."

Clark smiled "Not another shopping trip." he said with a chuckle.

"Maybe.. the barn needs some things as well. I'll do it after school. While you're helping Chloe."

"You don't need to do that, you know." he said taking a few seconds to look at her, this beautiful creature that was next to him. The woman he was sure he was in love with, had been in love with all of his life and would be for the rest of it.

“I know,” she whispered, kissing his cheek. “And you pay attention to the road.”

"I am, besides it's such a clear day you can see for miles." Clark told her. Of course with his eyesight that was more truth then he thought she could imagine. "How about I bring us some take out when i get back?" he asked her.

"Hmm.. Maybe.. I feel like Greek... maybe Italian. Is it true the Greeks invented anal sex?" Lana asked.

"Lana?!" Clark gasped in surprise at her question. "How would I know that?" although now that the question was out there he wondered about that himself. He just never thought she'd bring that up.

"I don't know. I figured you did something in a tractor all day long, so why not read? But now that i think about it. What do you do in the tractor all day long?"

"Plow the fields. Listen to music. Can't really read when you have to keep that thing straight." he told her.

"How long can you keep it straight?" Lana asked, half whispering, half seductive. And suddenly the topic wasn't tractors and fields. Well not corn fields.....

"For as long as it needs to be." Clark said not quite understanding what she meant. However the seductive tone in her half whispering voice did reach him on some level as he soon found himself feeling aroused. But then again Lana always seemed to do that to him.

"I imagine that will be a long time. I think some of those fields have never been plowed."

"Plow them every season for the harvest." he replied as he tried to will his erection away, but watched it start to bulge along his thigh where her hand would just be inches away from it. So he started to focus on the road even more, hoping that would help him.

"You mean to say that there isn't one field you haven't plowed?" she asked, grinning like a mad hatter inside, shocked and amazed on the outside.

"It's just corn fields. It isn't that hard." he replied

"Have you just taken care of your own? Or have you plowed all the fields in Smallville?"

"Just ours, why would I want to plow someone else's.... field." Clark felt his cock reach full thickness at her question. "She couldn't be asking that could she?" he wondered.

Lana Lang

Lana bounced out of the Truck almost before it was even stopped, but then she ran around to the other side and leaned in the window. Giving Clark a iss she ran her tongue across his lips. One of those soft daring kisses, that teased and promised more later. The kind that men dreamed of and women whispered about to each other.

Then she was off, her hips sashaying as she crossed the parking lot to the school. The jeans she was wearing hugged her ass in ways that were illegal in some countries. But then Lana had the kind of ass that jeans lined up to hug, and caress.

And it didn't look like she was wearing panties either, unless she was wearing a thong...

Clark slowly got out of the truck as he kept an eye on her as she walked away. "I'll see you at lunch!" he called out to her. He couldn't help but admire how those jeans hugged her ass. As tight as they were it brought the question of whether or not she was wearing anything underneath.

He slid his glasses down just a bit. The temptation to look through her jeans, now that he learned to see through things in layers, was so great. But at the last moment he pushed the glasses back up and into place. Lana would never forgive him if she found out he had looked at her.

Clark Kent: Tuesday Aug 29th, 2006

7:00 am

Clark entered the school building at the entrance closer to his locker. His mind was still quite distracted by the view of Lana sashaying into another part of the building. Normally he would have had his books for his first class already, but he was in such a hurry yesterday that he had left them.

He opened his locker like he had thousands of times, but unlike any of those times he had something fly out and hit him in the forehead. He was momentarily shocked, but unhurt as he looked between in front of him to see the bigest hornet he had ever heard of in his life. The damn thing had to be about 3 inches long and it was fat. ANd appearantly pissed as it tried to repeatedly stick Clark in the forehead with it's stinger. Over and over again the instect tried to sting him, and soon was joined by 5 more.

Clark wasn't hurt by it, but the things were getting quite annoying. So he did what anyone would do and just swatted them dead. He took the small rag he had in his locker and wiped them off his face and then looked around it to see if there were anymore, or even a nest inside. He saw neither, he was at a loss for how those things could have gotten in to his locker otherwise. Was Smallville having some sort of epidemic of insects, he wondered. He managed to save one not so badly squashed body and figured he'd look and see if he could determine what species it was either during a free period, or after school while at the Torch. With that he closed the door and replaced his lock where it was and went on to his first class.

Out of the corner stepped Greg, visibly in shock. "What the hell is Kent made of? First surived a swarm, and now he survived an attack of not 1, 2, or even 3, but 6 Giant Asian Hornets." he whispered softely as he looked around to make sure that no one looking at him. He didn't understand it, the Giant Asiant Hornets were deadly. Its sting has a higher concentration of the pain-causing chemical called Acetylcholine than any other stinging insect.
There is even an enzyme in its venom that can dissolve human tissue. And one of the chemicals, the venom itself produces actually attracts others which is why the other 5 also attacked Kent. And like normal hornets, they sting repeatedly. So why wasn't Kent on the ground dead. Could it be that he wasn't normal, could he be similar to Greg. If so then Greg was going to have to find a more direct means of getting rid of the star quarterback. Nothing was going to get in his way of getting Lana.

Clark and Lana- Late Tuesday Morning

During a break between classes Lana ran up to Clark, and grabbed his hand, Cupping it in her hand as she locked lips with him. Warm wet lips that nibbled on his lower lip.

"Mmmm that's nice." Clark said as he looked into her eyes. "So how are classes so far?"

"Oh, not bad.. I sooo hate math class. It sucks big time." She said. "I might have something for you..."

"Well that's why we'll be working on it together tomorrow." He reminded her. "And what might you have for me?" he asked

"Just this.." she said, slipping something into his pocket. "I'm sure you'll like them.. I know I did.."

Clark reached into his pocket to see what she had given him. His eyes opened wide as he realized what she had given him. They were a pair of pink lace thong panties with what looked like roses and vines in white. Not wanting anyone else to see it either he quickly put them back in. He found his mouth dry all of a sudden. "Your right.... I do." he found himself saying. His mind screaming at him what the hell was that.

"Good.." and with a grin Lana Lang was off, sashaying down the hall, only slightly more than normal, but that was probably cause she knew Clark was watching. And she wanted to drive him nuts.

Clark watched as she walked away. This however resisting temptation wasn't even an option as he lowered his glasses and took a peak. "Damn!" he said as he liked what he saw. He then heard the second bell, which meant he was late for chemistry. But in his mind it was worth it

Jimmy Olsen - Crime scene Early tuesday morning

Looking around Jimmy wasn’t sure if he should, but decided to do it anyway. Clutching the manila envelop in hand he crossed the street and walked up to Chloe Sullivan. The girl of his dreams. The girl that he was half afraid of. The girl he’d well.. the girl he’d panted after all summer long.

“Hey Chloe.. I .. oh.. um.. crap.. Umm. Here. These are for you.” He said holding out the envelope filled with color pics.

And then almost as fast as the Silver Streak he was gone, running into the drizzling rain.

Barry Allen / The Flash

Late Tuesday Morning

The black 2007 Dodge Charger pulled into the open space in front of the Sheriff's office. The door opened and out stepped a rather tall, well built man, with brown hair. He took off his sun glass and looked around. It was like going back in time for him. Smallville was very much like his home town of Fallville, Iowa. Another small town where everyone knew each other, and everything about each other. That is until all of a sudden people started being murdered.

Barry had only come to Smallville of his old friend, Sheriff Nacy Adams, she had some clues but didn't have a crime lab or expereinced enough technicians for the forensics. So she placed the call to him and he took vacation, as well as stored some equiment in the trunk of his car and made his way down from Central City. After looking around one more time, Barry closed the door to his car and made his way into the sheriff's office.

Chloe (and Rose). Tuesday. Early morning, continued.

"Not bad kid. Not bad at all. Where the hell did you learn about preserving evidence?"

"I want to go into some form of law enforcement when I graduate, if i can. Plus I watch lots of Law and Order."

The agent barked out a laugh, then patted me on the shoulder. "OK kid, you get your free pass tonight. Now get your ass behind the line and wait for your friend to get back." He pointed a finger at Chloe. "Well, what are you waiting for, give him your phone and get over here so I can get back to catching this asshole."

What am I waiting for?

Chloe was. Staring. Her hand was on her phone, it was sort of a quarter of the way towards extending towards Kyle to hand him the handset...

Smarter than the average bear.

Always joked about this. With Pete. They don't let you across town lines into Smallville unless you've got a secret to hide.

You've got secrets a-plenty, don't you, Mister Matthews?

Hm.

(Nice ass, too.)

CHLOE!

(Agh, agh, sorry, sorry, teehee...)

She pressed her phone into Kyle's hand, scrutinised him. "We need to talk. Later."

And then she wheeled about to face Agent Dunham, to submit herself into his tender care, escorted to the dying place of a neighbour family in the smallest of towns.

But then a slender lad came out of the darkness and handed her an envelope.

A lad she recognised instantly. She had a perfect memory, and she'd seen this boy--

She knew this boy Biblically. He was thus far the only life-form she knew Biblically besides herself.

"Jimmy?" she blinked, uncomprehending, clutching the envelope with both hands.

But he was gone, propelling himself back into obscurity with praeternatural speed.

She blinked down at the envelope she held. "Okay. So. What?"

She glared at the shadow of his departure, and yelled after him: "You don't call, you don't write, you don't e-mail, you don't even Tweet, and this is the best reunion you can muster?"

Cracking open the envelope, careful to shield the contents from the drizzle with the back of her hand, she peered in and realised that these were pictures. She didn't see the nitty gritty details of the pictures, she only saw that they were pictures.

And she remembered the cartridge still on her bedside table. Pictures.

And she screamed after Jimmy: "And stay out of my fucking bedroom, you creep!"

Incensed, she slapped the envelope into Rose's hands. "Hold these. Try not to let me burn them without looking at them."

Rose didn't react, immediately. She was still staring at Kyle like she didn't know what spiral-arm of The Milky Way he was from.

Chloe snapped her fingers in front of Rose's bespectacled eyes. "Rose. Try to focus."

Rose blinked, and nodded. "Focusing. On it."

Chloe turned to Agent Dunham at long, long, miles-long last and she smiled a faint little smile. "If it's not one thing, it's another. Shall we?"


"Three rules, missy," Agent Dunham explained, as they walked through the erstwhile domicile. "Number one: don't touch anything. Number two: don't throw up on anything. Number three: refer to rules one and two."

Chloe had pulled on plastic booties over her shoes. She had pulled a mask on over her face. She'd put on gloves... she'd even put on a hairnet. Wanted to prove to this Fed that the last thing she was was an idiot.

"Three rules," she murmured. "Rules of Three. Shouldn't be too hard to remember."

The agent, it seemed, still was dubious.

Chloe walked into that back room.

And her heart leapt into her throat.

Firmly, she swallowed it back down.

Not time to feel right now. Time to think.

Good at thinking.

They were crucified, essentially. Their clothing shredded, their bodies mutilated.

The father was facing his wife and daughter, making the crucifixion circular rather than the stereotypical Good Friday depictions of three crosses in a single row.

Messiah complex? Or maybe Pontius Pilate, ordering the Messiah's death from on high?

A Pilate complex? Need to revisit that.

She walked slowly through the room, calculating eye-lines.

Dad was made to watch.

Quietly, distastefully, she crouched down and examined the fluidic leavings on the father's genitals. And glancing across at the woman and girl, she frowned faintly. Compared and contrasted.

Was Dad made to participate?

God, that's just... that's just horrible...

She paused, though, stopped. Frowned across at the mother. There was more to the damage wrought to her sexual regions than mere... "overuse."

There was something...

Chloe bit her tongue behind the mask, and moved across the room to the mother, squinting as she moved in close.

There were letters carved upon an otherwise undamaged patch of skin.

Chloe's eyes darkened. The letters were tiny. Meticulous. You'd need a watchmaker's eyesight even to perceive them, let alone inflict them upon human flesh. And yet, there they were, right there at the threshold of human vision.

"'Scala Naturae,'" she murmured. "The Natural Order. Ye olde food-chain. Are we claiming to be the top of the hierarchy, hm? That would make us God, wouldn't it?"

She rose to her feet, glanced at Agent Dunham. "Make sure your boys get a good shot of this. Use a good lens, or something with some serious megapixels... he's taken up scarification as a new hobby."

But then she gazed quietly at the daughter, and yet again at the father.

Tears of blood rolled down their cheeks. Again with the Messianic references. Gethsemane? Though I guess technically Christ was sweating blood in the garden of His betrayal...

She took a slow step towards the daughter. "...where are you crying the tears from? I don't see any cuts on the... outside..."

She paused. Took another step towards the daughter. Looked again at the closed lids of the father. Stared hard. Almost like she could see through...

"There once was a serial killer," she recited, in a bit of a dream, "who took on the reputation of a legend, became something of a nightmare. The stories trace his origins to Venice in 1920, and extend on to the mid-1980's before trailing off mysteriously, hopefully ending in his death. Even among killers, he was a fearful thing. They called him The Corinthian, and a hallmark of his murderous style was the removal of a victim's eyes. Apparently, he believed that there was a certain power in consuming the eyes of the deceased, in seeing what they saw and taking that knowledge into oneself."

She ran her tongue over her teeth. "He looked through the eyes of the dead and dying."

Chloe moved to the girl's side. "I don't think this was a Corinthian killing spree. But I think the philosophy carries over. I think this killer wants us to peer through the eyes of the dying, see the last thing they saw..."

She smiled faintly beneath the mask. "I'm saying this because I'm about to break rule number one."

Apparently digesting "Scala Naturae" and this little tidbit of serial-killer trivia, Agent Dunham's response was muted, incredulity evidently warring with reluctant congratulation. "Go for it."

Chloe sank to one knee in front of the girl. She shook her head. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

And gently, gently, fingers never trembling once, Chloe peeled back the girl's left eyelid.

There was blood on the cornea, but smeared, illegible. Chloe bit the inside of her cheek, briefly disappointed, and then peered up under the eyelid itself...

A snake. A snake carved in the shape of a circle. A serpent devouring its own tail.

"Yeah," Chloe murmured. "There's an engraving here, too. Ouroboros. Symbol of cyclical birth, death, rebirth, important to a whole host of traditions up to and including alchemy. Hinduism includes a similar symbol, Aztecs and Toltecs sometimes used this posture for Quetzalcoatl. (Whether or not pictographic false cognates factor into comparative mythology, or if this-- like Jung suggests --is a recurring archetype indicative of Mankind's Collective Unconscious, I'm probably not qualified to say.) The symbol goes way back further than Ancient Greece, but they're the ones who gave it the name. I think it ties in with alchemy, though. And circles do seem to be a theme with this guy. Circles and... transformation, and renaissance."

Briefly, Chloe checked the girl's right eyelid but found nothing similar.

She moved on to the father. Carefully, carefully, she lifted his eyelid, again, starting with the left.

"'Genesis,'" she read aloud. "Well, that's not too obvious. Just in case we're not smart enough to get the snake-eat-snake bit?"

...but then she looked beneath the right eyelid, just on the off-chance.

The girl had only had tears on the left side, but the father had them on both sides.

And she blinked, because the word here modified the left-side word considerably: "'Ortho?'"

Again, she stood.

Chloe stood, and she thought. "'Orthogenesis?' ...huh."

Her voice was low, and her speech was slow at first but built up speed: "He's a genius. A fucked up genius who sees himself..."

She shook her head. "Orthogenesis is the belief that there's a guiding force to evolution, that it's moving in a single upward refining direction. A lot of people assume that this belief includes a goal to evolution, an ultimate perfect evolutionary point, but generally speaking this is misattributed. Orthogenesis is a journey, not a destination. However, if this perpetrator, this monster, if he's one of the misattributors, maybe he sees himself... maybe he sees himself as the goal, if not one step closer thereto than the rest of mankind."

Beneath the mask, her nostrils flared, and her hazel eyes narrowed. "Are you familiar with Lamarckism, Agent Dunham? Lamarck was a proponent of orthogenesis. The foundation of Lamarckism was the notion-- since debunked by modern genetics --that characteristics acquired during a lifetime could then be passed on to descendants. Take high-mountain villagers, Sherpas in The Himalayas, for instance. Lamarck would postulate that their ability to dwell in the thin air of those heights would be passed on directly to their offspring. We know that this isn't the case-- each successive generation adapts individually."

Chloe frowned, her brow furrowed in fierce concentration. "He knows this is a dead end. Unless..."

Chloe hesitated to use the example of meteor rock mutation as being a change fundamental and profound enough to be inherited. There was a case, once, with a young boy born of two Meteor Freaks... second-generation...

"He's undergone a change," she murmured. "And maybe he knows he can't pass it on directly. But he still sees himself... he still sees himself as the face of the future and maybe, maybe, he's toying with us on the way to trying to make us like him...

"He's acquired," Chloe murmured, "characteristics that make him extremely powerful. And maybe he sees us as unworthy of inheriting these characteristics."

Chloe gestured towards the front of the house, that general direction, towards the fiery consumption that had not reached the crime scene itself.

"Maybe Prometheus has stolen fire from the gods," she shook her head, "but is refusing to give it to us out of sadistic delight. We're still in The Dark Ages and he's sleeping warmly at night."

Her brow unfurrowed, and her eyes actually focused on the outside world once more. She focused on Agent Dunham.

"You should have your boys check Stephanie Brown's body for more of these carvings," she suggested. "I never looked under her eyelids."

Her eyes roved around the room one last time.

Drinking it all in. Memorising. In case she looked back at this memory and noticed other details later...

"I think. I think I'm done here. Can we... go? I don't want to break rule number two 'till I'm outside the cordon..."

Wraith

"We need to talk. Later."

I nodded my head. After her run-in with what appeared to be a old boyfriend, Chloe turned and walked off with the agent. They suited up, and disappeared inside.

"Walk softly into the maw of madness and return to us safe in body and mind Seeker."

Rose was looking at me strangely. "Is that from something? Luni Coleone, or John Carpenter, or one of my dad's books? Sounds way way way familiar."

"Just something I picked up somewhere." I mumbled. I couldn't bloody well tell her I had heard Lord Agrathon say that to me before I went through the manhood rite in Shadow two years ago Earth time (twenty in Shadow). Damn pointy eared bastard could have warned me about the reapers.

"Just something from another time."

That got me another strange look. "I'm going to go interview some people while we wait on Chloe. See if you can get some pictures while I grab some interviews."
The next twenty minutes or so passed by in a blur. I had a app on my iphone that basically turned it into a voice recorder, so I used that while I interviewed some CSI techs, and a deputy.

I was finishing up that interview when Chloe came out of the house as pale as a ghost. I knew what seeing something like that could do to a person, so I made my way over to her. By the time she had removed the gloves and booties I was by her side, moving quietly in the predawn light.

"Hey there. Listen, I know I am the new guy, and you don't know jack about me, but listen. You just saw something bad, something that probably had a part of you screaming in the back of your head. I've been there, and I know how it is. I'm here if you want me. One thing I learned, it's damn hard to lean on yourself, so I am here if you need to lean on someone."

Chloe. Tuesday. Early morning, continued.

Chloe managed not to vomit.

Just barely.

Strangest thing, though. Strangest, strangest thing.

It didn't seem like an emotional response. It really really didn't.

It almost seemed physical. Like a runner collapsing with dry heaves after pounding out some insanely long-distance. Chloe felt like she was almost puking because she'd hit the wall, not because she'd seen something no-one should ever, ever see...

Of course, she had see that thing. And it would be with her forever, if her memory kept up its current accuracy and precision. Those images would never ever leave her, she could visit them whenever she wanted and doubtless sometimes, unbidden, those memories would surface.

She remembered everything. Even the bad stuff. Especially the bad stuff.

I was finishing up that interview when Chloe came out of the house as pale as a ghost. I knew what seeing something like that could do to a person, so I made my way over to her. By the time she had removed the gloves and booties I was by her side, moving quietly in the predawn light.

"Hey there. Listen, I know I am the new guy, and you don't know jack about me, but listen. You just saw something bad, something that probably had a part of you screaming in the back of your head. I've been there, and I know how it is. I'm here if you want me. One thing I learned, it's damn hard to lean on yourself, so I am here if you need to lean on someone."

Chloe clawed the hairnet out of her hair and pulled the mask away, discarding both of them, dropping them on the ground in a manner which was, quite frankly, environmentally unfriendly.

'I'm here if you want me.'

Oh, don't I wish that sentence meant what I want it to mean.

She looked up at him, looked up into those Photoshop-blue eyes. And she smiled a shattered smile. "Kyle. Thank you."

She closed her eyes, and laughed a shattered laugh, and reached for him, and her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, she took hold of his clothing as though she was about to tear it off of him. But all she did was use this handhold to pull her close, to press her forehead to his chest, press her body against his, his body against hers, to breathe shattered breaths against him... she shuddered once, and again, and a third time.

She was embarrassing herself with a complete stranger, she realised this on some level but his over had just been too too tempting, the idea that a handsome man would hold her and console her, who wouldn't want a white knight to ride out of the twilit dawn and come to her psyche's rescue?

"Little bit of," she mumbled, "pre-emptive PTSD. I'm okay. I'm okay. I'm just... not looking forward to remembering what I just saw. Those poor, poor Duncans. Those poor poor destroyed Duncans. Someone has to remember them. I know that they should be remembered. I just... I just... I don't know why it has to be me..."

Wraith

She pulled herself into me, shuddering as she spoke quietly into my chest. I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her in tight and rested my cheek on her forehead.

"Maybe it's because you will see their story told, get the word out that these people lived, not just died, and maybe because you will do what you can to see this sadistic bastard caught and punished."

I hugged her tighter, breathing in the scent of her.

"But not right now. Lets get you to your car and get you home. Someplace safe, then when you get to school we can pick this back up. Come on, lets go and I'll see you before first class. And I'll bring the coffee."

Chloe (and Rose). Tuesday. Early morning, continued.

"Coffee it is," Chloe smiled faintly. "But no bagels."

She drew away from him, and she straightened her hair, and she took her phone back from him. He smelled... nice. He smelled of something distantly familiar, like her mother's voice... something near and dear to her thoughts, though she couldn't place what, exactly.

He just smelled good. And felt good against her and around her.

"I guess I'll be okay from here," she shook her head. "Thank you for letting me have my mini-meltdown. You're... you're a good guy, Kyle. Those are few and far between."

Not to mention. Extremely, extremely...

Yeah. Need to cool my jets. (Again? Didn't I just work off a bunch of steam?)

She cleared her throat.

"I'll see you tomorrow," she murmured. "Bright and early. Well, later today, really. Brighter but not as early."

And she turned and walked across Whitmore, climbing the little hill, and as she climbed Rose moved up to climb beside her. Rose handed her the envelope of photographs.

"Kyle seems nice," Rose murmured.

Chloe nodded. "Yeah. He does at that. (I wonder where he's parked, doesn't seem to be up there with our dads...)"

Rose pondered something. "You want him to come on your face."

Chloe laughed at first: "Well, no, I--" and then froze, and fixed Rose with the single most incredulous expression she'd ever displayed. "Rose! Holy sweet mother of Lao Tzu, Rose, what did you just say?"

Rose's eyes were owl-wide behind the lenses of her spectacles, her skin a whiter shade of pale. "I said: 'You want him to--'"

Chloe stopped Rose there on the hill and shook her head, aghast and awestruck. "--you don't have to repeat it. First of all, our dads might hear you, second of all, my dad might hear you... Third of all, what?"

"I thought," Rose mumbled, "I stumbled recently upon my father's collection of mating-ritual documentaries for contemporary adult humans, and really, that sort of occurrence was fairly commonplace in the material. I thought that was... pretty standard? A gesture of affection and the marking of territory? Or maybe a pantomime of pollination? (Seemed like pollination.)"

Chloe smiled a tiny little smile. "You found your dad's porn stash."

"Oh," Rose blinked. "I kept meaning to ask him why he'd had it hidden. Is that what porn is?"

"Sounds like it," Chloe smiled ever-so-faintly. "So, no, that sort of thing isn't like how you see it on TV."

"Oh," Rose blinked again. "My experience with the subject is somewhat limited. I only-- um --once. And he, um... he um... he did that. On my face. (Took me forever to clean it off of my glasses.) So when I saw the videos, I thought, oh, that must be normal."

Chloe paused. "Well. It is for some people. There's more kinks then there are stars in the sky, Rosy. But that doesn't mean people talk like that outright in real life. At least, not outside of grown-up-blocked satellite radio."

Rose scrunched an eye shut, thinking hard. "I should keep that sort of jargon on the dee-ell. And on the cue-tee."

"Affirmative," Chloe nodded firmly.

They began to walk again.

After a stride or two: "So do you? Want him to?"

Chloe laughed softly. "I've only known him an hour, Rosy."

"So, no?" Rose's brow was furrowed easily as fiercely as Chloe's had been at the scene of the crime.

"No, Rose," Chloe shook her head. "No."

Well. Maybe a little.

Maybe a lot.

Among... other things.

Mmmmm.

(Jeezusgod, what's wrong with me?)

They parted ways, then, to reunite later at The Torch.

Rose was preoccupied, her social paradigm nudged just a little bit towards functionality rather than dysfunctionality.

And Chloe, preoccupied in rather a different fashion, knew she wasn't getting any more sleep before school started.

John. Tuesday. Morning, just before school.

He'd been there for hours.

After he'd parted ways with Clark, that previous night, he'd spent a few hours catching up on world events he'd missed during his week in a pyrotechnically-induced shapeshifty psi-coma. SilverStreak sightings and the like... outbreaks of war...

Xenoarchaeology journals. In case they'd found any more Lost Caves of Krypton. (Ayer's Rock seemed promising, he'd have to check that out over the weekend.)

But after that, it had occurred to him that he'd missed more than news stories while he'd been away.

Homework.

Fuck.

My grades are bad enough as it is... if I get on academic probation again, there's no way they'll let me keep working at The Torch...

Hurriedly, there in his home, he took on the form of his "father," John Jones, Senior, and with the man's rugged, weatherbeaten hand, he scrawled a letter to teachers and staff explaining his absence as a last-minute trip out of town, family emergency. Using telepathy to cloak himself in an aura of invisibility, even in the dark of night, he flew to Smallville High, phasing through its hallowed walls, and wedged the note under the receptionist's big chunky phone, a place where it would never go unnoticed.

From there, he hurried to The Torch.

Chloe'd given him a key, and he decided to unlock the door rather than phase through it...

He was going to be here awhile, and it wouldn't do for people to wonder why he'd locked himself inside.

Resuming the "standard" shape of John Jones, Junior, he sat towards the back of the office, near The Wall of Weird.

Powering up one of the Alienware desktops, John steepled his fingers, and did his best to concentrate.

He reached out... reached out and out and out...

...telepathic tendrils searching the night...

He found mind after mind of his sleeping teachers. (Well, most of them were sleeping, some were passing their nocturnal hours in a far more enjoyable fashion...)

Gently, John combed their minds, darting through their unknowing thoughts to sort out the numerous-- nearly innumerable --assignments he'd missed over the past week. There were tests and quizzes he'd have to make up, and he seriously had to restrain himself to refrain from peering at those answers.

Hurriedly, he sorted reports and papers and textbook reading and calculus problems, wrote them down on a pad beside the computer's keyboard.

And then, when he felt like he'd gotten the most of it, the gist of it... he started typing.

He had to remind himself to type slowly enough that the keyboard didn't melt to slag. Or catch on fire.

Definitely don't want it to catch on fire.

As he worked, he erected a subconscious telepathic cordon around himself, so when someone was walking towards the office, entering the office, he'd be able to put on the typography brakes and act like, well, a normal Earthling teenager.

He did this in case he'd be disturbed.

Which he wasn't. At least not until about 7:30...

Wraith

I watched Chloe walk off, a little unsteady at first, then she got it together. By the time she met up with Rose she was once again the tough, no-nonsense young woman I had met earlier. The shocked woman of a few minutes ago was once again behind her walls.

Strong girl. Smart girl. Better watch your ass Kyle.

I made my way back into the trees, then enfolded Shadow, putting on my work clothes with a unearthly moan. Reaching out I twisted reality around me, bending the darkness until I stepped out by my car. Looking to the east the rose of dawn was painting the sky. No time to drive home. I placed my hand on the car and drew upon Shadow, and it answered. Both me and the car emerged into Shadow, then again shadow swallowed me up, depositing me in the driveway with my car. I let loose my armor, darkness swirling around me and leaving me standing in the driveway in my jeans and jacket.

I let myself in, and listened. Eventually I heard Alan snore, and knew I was good. Looking at the clock I had about thirty minutes before their alarm went off (last month Kim finally started sleeping in the same bed as Alan. About damn time, they had only been secretly lusting after each other for a year. Bekka has a good eye for that thing, which is why they got the babysitting assignment together. Sis takes care of her family, and those two knuckleheads were definitely family.)

I set the coffeemaker up and made my way up to my room. I plopped down, then put my headphones on, synced them with my phone and started going through the interviews, making notes on the scribepad. It was a hour later when Kim poked her head in, and I had a good rough draft of a story down.

"Coming to breakfast Kyle? And didn't you wear that yesterday?"

I looked down at myself. "Oh yeah. OK, I'll be down in twenty. let me catch a shower and get ready."

"What you working on anyway?" she asked.

"Story about how crime scene drama's are influencing juries in real trials. I got assigned to the school paper, and I have heard Alan gripe enough about stuff like that, so I looked into it and it's pretty interesting. I'm done with the outline but I still gotta put some meat on the bones. I'll do that at school. I lost study hall for journalism, so I'll have time."

"Sounds interesting. Make sure to get me and Bekka a copy when it's published. See you in thirty."

I got ready and got things together, and thirty minutes later was zipping through the kitchen on my way out the door. I made sure to give Kim a hug before making my escape (yes she was part of my security detail, but I genuinely liked her) and got in my beater. Hell, I had a credit card in my wallet with 100K on it, untraceable, but a flashy car is not being subtle. So I drove this. Hey, it worked, and I had put some money into the sound system.

Twenty minutes later I pulled into the parking lot, which was starting to fill. I grabbed my backpack, stuffed the laptop (which looked like a Dell but was light years beyond anything they had) into my bag, and made my way to the Torch. I skipped the coffee because I had completely spaced out on what Chloe drank and I didn't have her number. Hell, the coffee shop was five minutes from the school. Once the girls got in I would go grab some work juice.

A couple of minutes later I was in front of the door of the Torch. I pushed it open and looked around for a empty desk, when I saw the guy sitting in the back.

"Oh, hi. I'm Kyle, the new guy. There someplace I can stash my stuff thats free?"

John. Tuesday. Morning, continued.

Thoughts flowed.

A rainbow of colours.

...ever-changing static, the ambient radiation of the mind, continuous transmissions, like the radio waves constantly beamed out by Earth, light-years gone...

The background noise in an imperfectly protected Martian mind.

He had other senses, too.

John's fingers were flowing across the keys, and sometimes he had more than ten fingers.

...he was listening with his mind and with his ears.

He heard two eight-chambered hearts beating. Perfectly matched hearts.

He wasn't sure, yet, what those hearts represented. But he knew, in his own ever-changing heart of hearts, that they represented the future of this planet, whatever that meant.

He knew what Clark and Lana meant to each other, in that sense.

He smiled softly as he heard their pulses kick up a notch, and then tuned them out, gave them their privacy. John could be a complete asshole sometimes, but these two... these were something special.

Something so so very special.

He was putting the finishing touches on an Op-Ed piece regarding Lex Luthor's recent reward offering for this terrible murdering rapist when the psychic cordon he'd erected earlier found itself tripped by an entering presence...

...tripped...

...and set on fire...

His hands flew to his head.

...there was screaming...

...there was despair...

...like a hundred million throats made raw from roaring, groves full of suicides, troves of maniacs, cackling deviant deadly demonic...

The turmoil went on and on forever, forever bound within nine unholy rings.

He could hear them. Each and every screaming wailing voice he could hear them...

John staggered out of his chair clutching his head and he looked up with bloodshot eyes at the man who had just entered.

He couldn't hear a heartbeat from miles off anymore, he could barely hear a word this man was saying...

...the burning burning river of souls led right to this man's door, this was the mythic Saint Dumas with a flaming sword and all the victims of Hell wrothe in the flames of his wrath...

"Oh, hi. I'm Kyle, the new guy. There someplace I can stash my stuff thats free?"

John reached Kyle in all of three strides and grabbed the newcomer by the front of his shirt. John's brow was pouring sweat as he wrestled his mind back from the brink of whatever psychic attack this bastard was using on him...

"Turn," he snarled, through gritted teeth.

"Turn it off," he wheezed, his fists going white-knuckled and his face looking decidedly green around the edges, his eyes so bloodshot now they were almost more red than white. "Right now. Or I swear to H'ron-- hrrrh --I swear to God that I will knock your brain out through the back of your head."

Wraith

FUCK!!!!

I walked in and this guy is on me like a pit bull on a kitten. he looked like he was jonsing in a very serious way too.

"Turn it off," he wheezed, his fists going white-knuckled and his face looking decidedly green around the edges, his eyes so bloodshot now they were almost more red than white. "Right now. Or I swear to H'ron-- hrrrh --I swear to God that I will knock your brain out through the back of your head."

"Get.." I reached up and grabbed his wrists, turning my body and breaking his leverage,
"off.." I twisted and positioned, using the training Dra'zal had taught me in shadow and my strength and agility,
"of.." Now in position I used my gifts and training to completely break his leverage while using my body as a fulcrum, and my strength to throw him out through the door and out into the hallway, slamming the door open with a boom.
"ME!" I said to a now empty room, my body in a low crouch, the shadows of the room going wild and my eyes glowing behind the contacts. I was a heartbeat away from changing right here and right now.

Tuesday morning, continued.

A full-grown, fully-trained Martian can defy gravity, outrun bullets, deflect bludgeoning thoughts, phase through matter, and can shapeshift in mid-air so that he always lands on his feet.

John was pretty much full-grown. But he was not fully-trained.

And thus, when Wraith unleashed an ancient extradimensional martial art on him, he found himself chucked through the door, almost knocking the thing off of its hinges...

He hit the floor hard.

He grunted. The floor shuddered, but didn't quite give way.

But the impact jarred his skull and jarred his brain inside his skull, anatomy presently analogous to human, and that impact and that jarring caused his telepathy to hiccup, just for a moment, interrupted the searing flow of Kyle's madness field. And, as it happened, this allowed John to slam shut the walls of his mind...

...to barricade the constant flow of psychic traffic and shut out the screaming voices...

He shot to his feet. Dusted himself off. And strode back into The Torch with eyes once again white and skin once again pinkly Caucasian.

Teeth gritted.

He walked back into the office of The Torch.

The shadows were dancing like someone was running current through their feet and the metajujutsu-flippy guy was exhibiting bio-luminescence around his eyes.

"I have this friend," John growled, his jaw flexing as his eyes narrowed, "who's always... encouraging me... to not hit first and ask questions later. So just this once, you're gonna get the benefit of his advice."

He pointed an index finger at the crouching Kyle, so near to being Wraith...

"Who the fuck are you," he demanded, "and what the fuck do you want?"

...the hallway had been, mercifully, mostly empty.

If John's senses had not been preoccupied with Kyle, he would have been able to tell that there were two women about to round the corner.

Chloe Sullivan. And Rose McCrimmon.


Constantine had driven Rose away without hardly a second question.

Though he did glance over his shoulder at about the same time that Kyle vanished away into Shadow a long ways away behind them...

"Hnph," he muttered to himself, as he drove and his daughter gazed absent-mindedly out the passenger-side window, "just what this town needs. Another bloody poltergeist."


Gabe Sullivan, meanwhile, had been so tired that Chloe had asked him to move over, let her drive. This he had gladly done.

And Chloe had driven carefully carefully home through the drizzling rain.

Gabe had gone straight upstairs and passed out.

But Chloe had sat up for awhile. Sat up on the couch in the living room... her mind racing...

...thinking about a boy with blue eyes...

...and this time his girlfriend was nowhere to be found.

This was an old fantasy. And it was just about cliche enough that it made her cringe to fantasise it.

But it was just so... irresistible.

Her fingers unsnapped the front of her pants and a little shiver ran its roughshod way up and down her body.

...The Kents' barn was a work of art. Surgically clean, so far as these places went, and someone had had the foresight to carefully saw chunks out of certain beams so that tall tall men wouldn't bump their heads.

Up in the loft, Clark had his Fortress of Solitude.

But Clark wasn't up in the loft. And neither was Chloe.

They stood barefoot on the hay-strewn barn floor. Barefoot and bare-bodied, entwined. His perfect perfect hard-on bounced between their pressed-together bodies, slick with sweat, pulsed every time they kissed.

Her fingers delved within...

...she was dripping wet already and a moan powered its way out between her lips...

Clark was strong. Clark was so, so strong.

A gladiator out on the football field, a saviour, Jonathan Kent's sole farmhand, Clark was so so strong.

More than strong enough to scoop up tiny little Chloe, to bear her aloft, to hold her and carry her...

...her legs wrapped around his waist.

And he lowered her down onto himself with a shudder and a low low groan...

...she gasped, high and warm, buried her face against his shoulder, hung on for dear life...

Her fingertip made slow slow gradually accelerating circles around her clit, dancing and swirling, and her whole body shook as she struggled to muffle her cry... "ohfuuuuck..."

Her legs were hooked over his arms and he was powering up into her and she was bounding and rebounding, he was churning he was churning, he was fucking her standing up and her whimpers were interspersed with fierce kisses upon the side of his neck...

He felt fantastic inside her.

She could barely breathe. She felt him so deep inside her, surging and retreating and surging again that with every stroke he took her breath away...

Her pants were around her ankles and her hips were jutting at her hand and she was biting her lip and her eyes were closed and she was trying not to wail... her hand was moving quickly now, it was like lightning...

Right about now, usually, Clark would carry her over to the door of one of the stable stalls, press her up against it, trap her against that door and really really go to town on her...

...but right now, right now, this old cliched "roll in the hay" fantasy started to divert from the usual...

The straw-strewn floor rustled behind Chloe, and Chloe blinked and tried to turn her head to see who was behind her, not that she could do much, Clark pretty much had her immobilised...

Another boy with blue eyes. He was naked, and beautiful.

Her hazels went wide, but he gently took her face in his hand and kissed her softly on the lips, Clark slowing down in bouncing her around so Kyle could have a better chance at a decent kiss.

'Just relax,' Kyle murmured.

Wide-eyed, Chloe nodded. But her eyes went even wider when Kyle held up a small tube of lubricant and emptied it onto his hand...

Chloe's breathing quickened to match her pulse, but neither could keep up with the quickness of her fingers...

"oh, oh fuck, oh fuck oh fuckohfuckooouuuhhhhfuck..."

He smeared lube onto her and into her, carefully invading her most forbidden place with a single fingertip, and then a second fingertip...

Her eyes were so so wide and Clark smiled That Smile at her and shook his head. 'Just relax. We'll take care of you.'

And Chloe took a deep shuddery breath. Just another deep deep shuddery breath, and she nodded helplessly, and she relaxed...

...just in time for Kyle to spread the last of that lube on his own perfect, perfect hard-on... and press the tip of it into her ass...

She relaxed. And pushed.

And in he slid.

...Chloe had over a foot of cock inside of her and her head flew back and her eyes bulged out and she shuddered and moaned and even if she'd wanted to get away she couldn't have...

...they were moving inside her, she could feel them both, sometimes they were alternating thrusts, they were holding her up and sometimes they thrust simultaneously and sometimes they took turns...

Chloe's head was thrown back and she didn't want to get away she didn't want to ever get away they were so perfect they were taking care of her...

They were inside her.

Churning away. Sharing the weight of her. Using their strength on her.

Kyle had an arm wrapped around her across her stomach and he was whispering breathy soothing things in her ear, Clark had her legs over his forearms and was powering up into her and he was whispering breathy soothing things into her other ear...

Her delighted screams rang from one end of the barn to the other, echoing in the hayloft...

Both of them came at the same time. Both of them came inside her...

And panting and weeping and shuddering, Chloe slid off of the couch and came, bucking, noisily thrashing...

"FUUUHUUUUUCK!"

She came on her living room floor and sprawled in a heap.

"Okay," she mumbled, a few moments later, "fuck. (If that doesn't get my mind back on the job, nothing will..."

Legs a little rubbery, she managed to clamber to her feet, and tug her pants up, and wobble up the stairs to shower. The falling showerdroplets didn't even distract her this morning...


She and Rose had met on the front doorstep of the school. Rose was a little astonished to see Chloe here this late...

Rose had thought, for a time, that Chloe had slept at the school, she was always here so early. 7:30ish was practically dragging her feet.

"Burnt the midnight oil a little harder than usual last night," Chloe admitted, adjusting her laptop bag on her shoulder as she walked. "Late start is a natural consequence."

"Guess it's kind of to be expected, yeah," Rose nodded easily, and rounded the corner...

Dust was still settling.

...and shouting echoed from the bashed-open door of the school paper's office.

"Okay," Chloe frowned, holding up a hand for Rose to throw on the brakes, her voice sounding every bit as exhausted as she felt, "now what?"