Smallville AU

[Varshanka]

Lana Lang

Nodding Lana paused at the door and, after reluctantly letting go of her hand, pulled off her sweater, revealing the thin white spaghetti strap top underneath. Taking the laptop from Chloe she wrapped it up in the sweater before handing it back.

"Let's run for it.." she giggled. Taking off at a quick sprint she started cartwheeling, tumbling, flipping, twisting, and twirling. She'd never keep dry at human speeds, so she might as well have fun getting wet.

With a finally flip she twsited through the air, landing with a soft splash next to Clark's truck. The drizzle was annoying, but not super icky. Not like it could be. But damn it was cold..

Opening the side door Lana motioned Chloe inside, the white shirt clinging to her, outlining the dark circles of her nipples, and emphasizing the hard eraser sized nipples underneath.

 

[Lunaramblings]

Later that night...

Corben leaves Lex. He can not take much more of the incessant pretty boy. Corben gladly takes his night off. He has plans.

It is late for a small town. Corben walks down a dark dirt road. He reaches a house. Finding it dark. Corben doesn't mind darkness. He has lived in the dark for as long as he can remember. And he thrives on it.

It takes Corben only a moment to find that the door is unlocked. Simply hicks. No one locks the door in a town like this. Corben moves into the house. Down the hall, he comes to a bedroom. A couple sleeps, entwined, two lovers, man and wife, their love is apparent. And to Corben it is sickening. He would enjoy the things he could do to them... all the wonderful things. And the terror in their eyes as he makes them watch. Makes them feel and see the wonderful things he had planned for their daughter. Yes. More the merrier as they say.

Corben leaves the lovers. He moves down the hall. Quickly he finds her. Innocent. Sweet. Succulent. He truly would enjoy this. More than the cheerleader even. She had been a slut. This would be closer to the art he wanted to create. Corben steps to the girls bed. With one massive hand he reaches out. His hand closes over her mouth and nose. Damn near over her entire face. And he squeezes. She struggles as she awakens. The pain telling her something is very wrong. But soon she stops fighting. The lack of oxygen to her brain causing a state of euphoria. As she lapses into a deep state of unconsciousness, Corben lifts her. With the girl over his shoulder he returns to her parents. Repeating this process, Corben leaves with the family.

An hour later Michael and Courtney Duncan awake. They are bound and laying on the floor of the warehouse. Corben is standing above them. "You know. At first, I only wanted your daughter. But I think it will be more fun with the whole family. Sorry about your clothes. But I highly doubt they will be needed any further."

Michael attempts to right himself. His naked form on the cold floor, his body is almost numb. "I... I don't know who you are. Or what you want. But... we aren't rich. I can't pay you a ransom. Please. Let my wife and daughter go."

"Oh... how sweet. I don't care about ransom. I am doing a little social experiment. The human body is easy to break. But the spirit, the mind, those are much harder. I want to see how long it takes me to break you. You and your family. How long before you are just... like... me..." Corben grabs the couple by their arms, and drags their bodys across the floor. He drags them to their daughter, nude and crying. She tries in vain to pull free of the ties around her wrists and ankles.

"Yes Claire... struggle... It wouldn't be fun if you didn't. Now, Michael, your daughter here... she is a very good girl. I would love to start my fun with her, but I think I will get things warmed up a bit first. Courtney... so beautiful, even for a woman your age. Well, lets see how long before you give out. And Michael, you better watch... if I catch you looking away, I will have to turn my attentions to little Claire instead."

Several hours later, Corben stands above Michael. "Beg me Michael. Beg me to take their pain away. To end there suffering. To end this all... Oh Michael... the things I have done to them. The things we have done. Now, now, don't cry Michael. You claim you didn't want to do these things. But at anytime you could have asked me to kill them. Or to kill you. But you see, Michael, I am not the deviant one. I am pure. I am real. I am beyond the petty preconceptions of what is moral. You people, all of you, you put on your little shows. But deep inside... You are all just... like... me. Bow, Michael. I am your savior. Bow to the wisdom of METALLO!"

"Kill... them. Please. Kill us all..."

The last thing Michael sees are the death of his wife and daughter.

As Corben takes care to arrange the bodies in the bed of Michael and Courtney Duncan, he smiles. The art. The Truth. So many more minds to enlighten. When the police find the scene, they will find what appears to be three lovers in a warm embrace. Corben smiles as he leaves the house. The sun will rise in an hour. In twenty minutes, the bodies should be found. Corben stops and takes the flare gun out of the car. He walks back and fires it directly into the sofa and smiles as the flames take light.

5 minutes later he is speaking into a Trac-Phone. "I would like to report a fire. Duncan residence. Whitmore Road. Yes. That is correct. I suggest you hurry." As Corben ends the call he tosses the phone out his window. It falls into the water off the side of the bridge.

 

[ChasNicollette]

Chloe. Monday, afternoon, continued.

Nodding Lana paused at the door and, after reluctantly letting go of her hand, pulled off her sweater, revealing the thin white spaghetti strap top underneath. Taking the laptop from Chloe she wrapped it up in the sweater before handing it back.

Blinking with surprise at the kind gesture, Chloe accepted the sweater-wrapped computer back from Lana, slipping this in turn back into the laptop bag. She was seriously grateful for the extra protection-- she'd commented, more than once, that this computer was her "life" --but then she glanced up at Lana and saw. Quite a bit of skin.

Chloe hesitated. "Okay, yeah, thanks, but aren't you going to be free--"

"Let's run for it.." she giggled. Taking off at a quick sprint she started cartwheeling, tumbling, flipping, twisting, and twirling. She'd never keep dry at human speeds, she she might as well have fun getting wet.

Again, Chloe hesitated... she saw Lana take off, feet flying, changing places with hands, lunging and whirling, every muscle in tune, like a gold-winning floor programme at the Olympics. Chloe couldn't help but follow, more than a little hypnotised.

But better to be hypnotised by Lana Lang than get mesmerised counting rain and catch hypothermia or something.

She kept her gaze trained on the cheerleader, quadriceps like steel coils, dark hair trailing the circumference of each cartwheel...

Lana never flinched. She never wavered. What kind of confidence was that? What kind of madwoman fearlessness, what kind of brilliant self-assuredness was the ability to cavort at full tilt down a rainy asphalt path?

Praeternatural.

Chloe was awed.

...but as soon as it had begun, the display was ended, and Chloe found herself short of breath for more reasons than just the exertion of running.

With a finally flip she twsited through the air, landing with a soft splash next to Clark's truck. The drizzle was annoying, but not super icky. Not like it could be. But damn it was cold..

Chloe skidded to a halt behind Lana, her blonde hair darkened by the precipitation, plastered to her face. Hugging the laptop bag to her chest, cheeks flushed, Chloe felt like a fool. Lana didn't even seem winded.

Holy God do I wish I could be in that good a shape.

You could probably chase down a car on foot, cheesy-80's-action-flick-style...

Opening the side door Lana motioned Chloe inside, the white shirt clinging to her, outlining the drak circles of her nipples, and emphasizing the hard eraser sized nipples underneath.

Chloe followed, dutiful and more than a little abashed.

Look at Clark's face, not his girlfriend's chest.

Look at Clark's face, not his girlfriend's chest.

She slammed the door shut behind her, hugging the laptop tighter still, wincing in anticipation of the awkward reception this would most probably receive.

"H-hi, Clark," she attempted, stammering not like a nervous schoolgirl in the presence of gorgeousness, but as a woman who suddenly felt out of her depth with people she'd known her entire life. "Been awhile, huh?"

 

[LuckyVic]

Clark Kent

Clark was sitting messing with the radio when all of a sudden he heard his door open. He looked up and their was Lana stepping in, soaking wet. His eyes widened as he saw what he assumed was the weather affecting Lana, since her nipples were hard and poking through her uniform top.

He didn't know how long he had been staring, but he was knocked back into reality when he heard Chloe. To say she was cute was an understatement, in her own way she was as gorgeous as Lana. "Oh hey Chloe what's up?" he said.
She was right, thanks to football, he rarely had the chance to spend any quality time much less just chat with Chloe.

 

[Varshanka]

Lana Lang

Lana sat between two of her favorite people. Clark Kent gorgeous hunk of a man on her left, and Chloe Sullivan sex minx extraordinaire on her right.

And the the truck wasn't really big so her legs were touching both of them at the same time. About the only thing that would have been better would be being on Chloe's right.. with Chloe between them. That way she could have discreatly leaned against Chloe, while looking at Clark.

Reaching forwards she turned the heat on, she didn't need to catch a chill after all. Sitting back so they could look at each other, and talk, Lana rested her hands in her lap.

 

[ChasNicollette]

Chloe. Monday, afternoon, continued.

He heard her voice, and his eyes jumped away from Lana and all of a sudden they locked onto Chloe. All of a sudden.

All of a sudden, Chloe didn't have any trouble at all looking at Clark's face rather than his girlfriend's chest. Because those baby blues of his were as difficult to categorise and quantify and qualify as any unexpected lesbian yearnings, as impossible to enumerate as any pounding rainstorm.

"Oh hey Chloe what's up?" he said.

She smiled a little struggle of a smile. Tried to stay coherent. "Oh, not much."

Chloe felt the rain trickling down inside and outside the fabric of her top, a red shirt with a neckline that plunged quite a ways and hugged her chest. Its sleeves were three-quarter-length, and her skin clung to it for dear life.

Odd, that she'd considered this shirt modest enough to wear to school and suddenly she was regretting wearing it in front of Clark. She felt like a harlot, and not in a good way. At least she hadn't worn a skirt today, instead opting for trousers with a multiplicity of pockets...

All the same, though, these trousers were awfully clingy, too. Emphasising the vertical lines of her body that started with the shirt and moved on down...

She shouldn't feel this way. Clark was a red-blooded fella, and he obviously liked it when his girlfriend's top was a little see-through, but she couldn't help but keep him on something of a pedestal.

So when he asked her what was up, her mind went blank and she worried about her outfit and told him nothing much was up at all.

Until she blinked, and shook her head, and fumbled in her laptop bag, extracting Lana's sweatshirt with a series of clumsy movements. "Actually. Actually. Scratch that. Something's up."

She paused. "Okay. Couple things."

She frowned. "No. More like three things."

She sighed, and scrunched her eyes shut. "(Spanish Inquisition.)"

Chloe handed Lana back her sweatshirt. "Um, first of all, I owe your girlfriend big-time. I'm the reason she's, uh, half-naked in the rain. Probably freezing. So. Thank you to Lana, and thank you to Clark, for that."

She smiled a tiny little smile at Lana as she passed that garment back to her.

S'funny.

Your leg against mine.

You don't feel that cold.

In fact, you feel just as warm as... ever...

Eyes shot back to Clark.

Stay on target, stay on target.

Bullseye the womp rat. Beggar's Canyon.

Chloe cleared her throat. "Second of all. Have you heard from John Jones at all? No-one's seen him since a week ago today, and none of my e-mails or phone calls have been answered. In fact, I think I personally filled his voicemail to bursting. Did he go out of town for a family emergency or something?"

She did her best to keep on going, keep on steamrolling, Lana's leg was really warm, really present, didn't give herself a chance to lose her breath, didn't give Clark a chance to yet answer.

"And third," she continued, "and most important: I need your help. I need Smallville's star quarterback, I need my star reporter back. This thing with Stephanie Brown smacks of dark underpinnings, I think this is just one in a continuing series of atrocities, and I don't want to give this guy a chance to finish his concerto, you know what I'm saying? I know you know how bad this is, Deputy Del said he talked to you at the scene, I know this is killing you like it's killing me. I also... I also think... that this guy, the perp, might be superhuman somehow. Like, uh, Meteor Freak superhuman. Like Wall of Weird. And... and I hate to ask you into a dangerous situation, but back when... back in the day, you always had this inexplicable knack for coming out on top in all those desperate situations. I need that now. I need your help. I'm calling in the Torch Reserves; I'm calling in The Big Guns."

Chloe winced, and looked away, and tried not to count the raindrops that were running down the outside of the passenger-side window. Tried not to think about steaming up those windows with Clark or with Lana or Hell even both...

"Don't look at me like that," she mumbled. "You should have known this would happen after Pete left. You're all I've got."

 

[LuckyVic]

It took Clark a few moments to take in everything Chloe had just said. But one of the things she had said did cause him to wonder about something. The last time Clark had seen John was a week ago, then all of a sudden there was a fake him that tried to assualt Lana. The even weirder thing was the fake Lana that tried to seduce him. Could they have been the same person. "I really don't have much time to be doing work at the Torch." He told her. "However I think I can at least help with some investigating. I was going to go check on John anyway."

 

[ChasNicollette]

Chloe. Monday, afternoon, continued.

"I really don't have much time to be doing work at the Torch." He told her. "However I think I can at least help with some investigating. I was going to go check on John anyway."

Chloe's eyes flickered back to Clark, though her gaze visited Lana's face briefly before returning to the farmboy. Her smile was equal parts wince and gratitude.

"So," she chuckled faintly, half-heartedly, eighth-heartedly, "the cruel truth emerges: my star reporter hasn't quit the X-Files journalism biz, he's just gone freelance."

She nodded though, quietly, disappointed but trying and partially succeeding to be understanding. "Yeah. I get it. You've got your own thing going on, I won't rain on your proverbial parade. At least, uh, please keep me posted on anything anything you find out? Up to and including an interview?"

Her hand found the door-handle, but she didn't yet escape into the drizzling Kansas landscape.

"And please. If you find John. If you find John. Tell him I'm looking for him?"

 

[Varshanka]

Lana Lang

Reaching out Lana lay her hand on Chloe's leg, stalling her from leaving. And that simple contact made the point's on her chest, which had softened with warmth and distraction, snap to attention, eager to be noticed as they screamed their presence.

"Chloe.. don't go out in the rain.. Clark can give you a ride home. Or at least over to your car.. and he'll even unlock it for you." Lana whispered, her eyes puppydog soft. Taking the computer she rewrapped it in the sweater.

Leaning close, Lana whispered in Chloe's ear, "He'll help. I promise," Her lips nearly brushing the reporters incredibly soft skin. Her lips were close, but her chest was even closer, a single hard point brushing Chloe's arm, making Lana blush like a lobster at the contact. The contact she didn't want to stop. The contact she wanted to be better. The contact she hadn't intended was better than anything she planned, well except the girls shower after practice.

 

[LuckyVic]

Clark nodded his agreement. In fact he was about to suggest the same thing. "The way it's pouring, your beatle might have problems if you run into a flooded street or road on the way home. So I think I'd better just take you home myself. Do you have anything in your car that you need for tonight?" Clark asked her. His concern for his friend's well being was obvious in his voice and eyes.

 

[ChasNicollette]

Chloe. Monday, afternoon, continued.

"Chloe.. don't go out in the rain.. Clark can give you a ride home. Or at least over to your car.. and he'll even unlock it for you." Lana whispered, her eyes puppydog soft. Taking the computer she rewrapped it in the sweater.

Leaning close, Lana whispered in Chloe's ear, "He'll help. I promise," Her lips nearly brushing the reporters incredibly soft skin. Her lips were close, but her chest was even closer, a single hard point brushing Chloe's arm, making Lana blush like a lobster at the contact.

Chloe was about to protest, to explain that her car really was just across the very same parking lot that they themselves were parked in. She was a big girl, she'd protest, she could cross the street by herself, return her library books on time, vote Democrat, and run through hails of bullets-- let alone raindrops.

...but then she felt the tactile, haptic sensation slither along the quarter of her left arm that wasn't covered by that three-quarter sleeve, and her protest died in her throat.

And then Lana whispered in her ear and her mind went spinning, caroming way off course, and instead of the protest dying in her throat she caught herself having to muffle the tiniest little humidhighwarm gasp.

She managed to kill the sound of it. But she was blushing just about as red as Lana. Just about as red as her shirt.

She shook her head to clear it, tried to get her brain back on the rails...

She makes a very good point, Chloe.

You've never driven in the rain while this counting thing's been a problem. What if it kicks in while you're driving? You could go off the road, or hit a pedestrian...

She glanced up at Clark, seeking his opinion on the matter...

Clark nodded his agreement. In fact he was about to suggest the same thing. "The way it's pouring, your beatle might have problems if you run into a flooded street or road on the way home. So I think I'd better just take you home myself. Do you have anything in your car that you need for tonight?" Clark asked her. His concern for his friend's well being was obvious in his voice and eyes.

She hesitated. And frowned.

Well. The flash-bang grenade in the trunk. And the nightvision goggles. And the CD collection...

...no, no, that can all sit tight overnight.

Chloe smiled faintly, shook her head. "Well, I was going to go try and pick up those photographs later on. But I suppose that can wait 'till lunch-hour tomorrow."

Good. Thinking things through rationally.

Good.

Of course, it does mean lingering in Clark's truck cab with two of the most beautiful people Earth ever birthed, but that's not why we're doing it. We're being rational.

(Aren't we?)

She nodded, and smiled a smile that stretched her blushing cheeks as taut as could be.

"I would very much appreciate a lift home. Thank you, Clark. And thank you again, Lana."

 

[Varshanka]

Lana Lang

Chloe Sullivan Does NOT like girls. Her brain screamed at her mind. She does not LIKE Girls. She absolutely positively does not like GIRLS!!!

And then she saw the blushing skin, the rosey cheeks.. The lips... The eyes.

Those eyes..

Oh God..

If Chloe Sullivan did like girls....

...Lana Lang would most happily show her the way to Heaven...

She could feel the soft warm tingling in her special place. The tingling itch building inside.

Resting her hand on Chloe's leg, for balance she convinced herself, Lana whispered a soft promise to always be there for Chloe.

No matter what she needed.

 

[LuckyVic]

"Alrighty then. Let's get this show on the road." Clark said as he put the truck into gear and was preparing to pull out.

He looked over in Lana and Chloe's direction. He could see that they both seemed to be flushed. Then his eyes momentarily journeyed downward and took in the sight of Lana in those tight shorts she wore under her cheerleader uniform. It didn't take long for him to start blushing. He quickly turned his attention back onto the road. Having forgotten what he was going to say he started pulling out of the parking lot and away from the school.

 

[Varshanka]

Lana Lang

Barely able to breathe at her audacity, Lana sat back. Her eyes riveted on the road. She'd acted like a harlot. A hussy. A whore. A wanton muff diving slut.

Biting her lip she kept using peripheral vision to see what Chloe and Clark were doing. God, she hoped she hadn't made a complete and utter ass out of herself. But damnit, being so close to Chloe had made her promise irresistible to make. And she do it again.. in a heartbeat.

 

[LuckyVic]

As the truck left the parking lot a figure came out of the shadows. Greg Arkin had seen both Lana and Chloe enter the truck with Kent. If it were possible the look on his face could have killed Clark.

Greg went over to his car, which he had recovered earlier that day. He waited a bit, not taking his eyes off the direction Kent had gone in. Since his awakening he had discovered several new gifts, his acne had cleared up, he was stronger then before, and he could see a lot better. Even now he was driving several miles behind Kent, and yet he could see him and the girls as if he were only a few feet away. Greg watched as Kent dropped off Chloe at her house, and then followed him as he approached Lana's house which was actually next to his own. He watched as the truck pulled into Lana's drive way. He watched and waited for Kent to leave.

 

[Varshanka]

Lana Lang

Leaning over Lana gave Clark a quick kiss on the cheek, her hand resting on his thigh for a long moment. Her fingers so very very close to his semi-ridged shaft. Teasingly close. Then she slid off the seat and out the passenger door. Running around the front of the truck she got wet again as she ran to Clark's window, drizzling ran and cold mist soaked her already damp white shirt.

But she didn't mind, instead she leaned in his window and gave him a soul yearning kiss that made her toes curl and her special place warm and moist.

 

[LuckyVic]

Clark was a bit surprised when he saw Lana running around to his side of the truck and then having him lower his window so she could kiss him. But he wasn't complaining either, not to mention seeing her soaked in that white top did have certain advantages. So as she kissed him, he found himself placing a hand behind her head and returning the kiss with equal vigor. He just hoped that she didn't notice the instant hardon he got.

:: Elsewhere::

Another person that couldn't help but notice was Greg, he watched as Clark and Lana made out. It looked as if Kent was about to pull her back into the truck from how hard he was kissing her. Greg could feel the rage growing within him. Lana deserved so much more then the simple quarterback of the Smallville crows. She deserved a god, which is what he was now becoming. But before she got him, he would need to remove Kent from the picture.

 

[Varshanka]

Lana Lang

Walking back around the truck Lana took her time, her hand trailing on the hood of the pickup, rain drizzle caressing her skin in tiny splatters. Her feet splashed through puddles, her pink sneakers completely soaked in moments.

Twirling she cartwheeled up the steps, and then, contrary to reality she opened the screen door and walked inside. Just like a normal american girl. But then the screen door opened again, and a rolled up spaghetti strap, and complete rain soaked, t-shirt sailed out..and through the open truck window. Landing on the seat it settled, and bagn puddling on the seat.

From inside came a high pitched giggle, and the patter of feet running up stairs. As well as a deep male sigh of despair from the living room. Possibly Mr. Lang, watching his topless daughter hopelessly flirting with the Kent boy ...

... again.

 

[ChasNicollette]

Chloe. Monday, afternoon, continued.

The door closed behind Chloe with a soft thwump.

It had a kind of odd finality to it.

She could still hear the rain against the windowpanes, hear the truck pulling away.

Her dad wasn't home yet, his little car wasn't in the driveway.

It had been so strange, riding in the truck with Clark and Lana in relative silence.

...Chloe had tried to think of things to say, tried to think of a comeback for Lana's sultry, impossibly inviting whisper, but her blood had been thundering in her ears and her disbelief had been rampaging across the top of her brain.

She'd closed her eyes against the rain on the windows and against the mystifying, foolhardy ragings of her hormones and...

...she'd closed her eyes against the possibility of taking up Lana on that promise. Though it had seemed. Very. Inviting.

But she'd not been able to respond. Not on that level.

She wasn't prepared to respond on that level. Or maybe she just wasn't ready.

(Never thought there was a difference between those synonyms before. Nuances of meaning.)

Okay. Time to. Time to think, woman.

"Always been straight," she mumbled to herself, sliding to sit at the bottom of the front door, her back against the wood. "Had boyfriends. Jimmy, guy at The Planet this summer, he even scored with me. (Never called me back, the jackass.) I even kissed Pete goodbye, though he seemed more 'too little too late' about that than anything else."

She shook her head. "And Clark. Oh, the ideas I've had about Clark."

Chloe huddled herself, the laptop bag heavy against her side.

"So I know I like boys," she murmured, "I know that for a fact. Empirically verified fact."

She bit her lip. "Do I like girls, too?"

Chloe laughed softly. "I'd suggest I might require psychoanalysis to determine root causes and subconscious desire for things I can't have, to wit: Clark and his girlfriend, or even quasi-Freudian gravitation to female companionship given my lack of a mother figure, but then, I'm already talking to myself."

She sat quietly for a moment, her face and heart tied up in knots.

"Can't think of any instances in the past when I've liked a girl. You'd think it'd stick out like a sore thumb."

She harrumphed softly. "So maybe I don't like girls. Maybe I just like Lana? I mean, it's pretty obvious that I definitely like Lana."

Chloe shook her head. "Not necessarily bisexual, then. There's something too all-encompassing about that term. Maybe just a boysandLanasexual. Heh. There's one for the psychology books."

She made a tiny little self-infuriated noise. "ClarkandLanasexual?"

Chloe's eyelids fluttered, and tears emerged amidst the lingering raindrops. "I don't want to be obsessive. I don't want to be obsessive. I want to like a person and love a person because I like them and because I love them, not because my stupid crazy fucking brain latches onto ideas and concepts and notions and fantasies and won't ever ever ever let them go...

"Already have a Wall of Weird sucking up my emotional resources. Don't need a Wall of ClarkandLana. Don't want to be a stalker or a psychobitch or a huddled writhing shell of a girl on a padded cell floor."

Her hand clawed through the flax of her hair.

"I don't want to be crazy. Please, Jesus, God, Buddha or The Universe or whatwhomever, I don't... I don't want to be crazy."

She sat for a moment, and she huddled and she shivered and she was scared out of her mind.

"...is it even possible? I don't dig polyamorousness. (Polyamory. Whatever.) Is it even possible to love two people, and to lust them, and still be sane? Am I not obsessing? Am I just... am I just being a woman recognizing beauty very intensely in two very intensely beautiful people?"

Chloe laughed, ever so faintly. "(Still talking to myself.)"

She sat for a moment, and she huddled and she shivered and suddenly got a thoughtful look on her face.

She reached into the laptop bag and once more extricated the protective sweater Lana had given her.

She quietly lifted the sweater to her nose, the sweater that smelled a little bit of rain and a whole lot of Lana. And her nostrils flared as she inhaled.

And her body. Responded.

All the emotion cordoned off and all the sensation pent up it was like a wildfire mnemonic detonation in her cortex and her bloodstream and her feminine places. She moaned, softly, and then moaned again, louder, the moan she'd not dared to moan when Lana was all warm and enticing against her side and whispering easily-misinterpreted promises in her ear and Clark was right there, too, right in sight, right in reach, utter male gorgeousness incarnate...

There had been something electric about that space, the three of them together and Chloe had denied it to its face, because she'd been scared of being crazy and scared of the idiosyncratic iconoclastic run-way-not-of-the-mill variation of emotional connection that that electricity represented.

But now she could feel that electricity dance through her nervous system and out to her fingertips and she shuddered and she shivered and she moaned and she pulsed.

"You should probably. Uhgawd. Get this out of your system, huh? Before you, ahh, prove spontaneous human combustion an empirical fact..."

There in the little secret places which so few had triggered and only one had actually penetrated, the electricity waltzed, and did a little toprock, and then really got down.

"Yeah," Chloe mumbled to herself, chest heaving, sweat trickling down the back of her neck, pussy aching, and nodded, "I should stop talking. And do something. About this."

There alone in the little prefab Pleasant Meadows house, there totally alone, with hours to kill, Chloe let herself go a little crazy. Just a little. Crazy.

She left her laptop behind and took the sweater with her and she ran upstairs.

Lana's sweater landed on her pillow.

Her shirt hit the wall across from her bed. Her bra crumpled to the floor.

She fought her fly-buttons with a little bit of frustrated, impatient fury, so scared of the heat in her blood but so afraid so afraid to let it go away...

Chloe forced her shoes off without untying them, kicked away her socks, hauled off her panties and trousers in the same movement the same moment.

She sprawled atop her bedsheets and stared up at the newsprint on her ceiling.

Not what I want to be seeing right now.

Her eyes slammed shut.

Her hands began, slowly, intolerably slowly, to crawl across her body. Breasts and nipples and abdomen, circling, circling...

...it was a diametric, that was for certain, the longing to draw the feeling out, and the longing to get to the good stuff nownownow...

Her eyes were closed. And she daydreamed. She fantasised.

Her hands slid South, towards the aching and the pulsing and the drenching.

She heard a male moan and her eyes snapped open.

She was still alone on the bed but she was no longer alone in the room.

Clark had his back to the wall and his head rolled back and his eyes bulging and his lips parted. Lana was kneeling at his feet, and she was doing things to him that he very much seemed to like.

They were both naked. And beautiful.

Lana's darksome hair spilled down the tan of her back, over the sensual sculpture that was her shoulders. Her head bobbed slowly, and her whole body shifted and rolled with the rhythm of it.

Chloe whimpered softly, and she felt a little ashamed, a little ashamed of invading their privacy and a little ashamed that they were so beautiful and she just... wasn't...

Clark's hands were on Lana's head, encouraging her, gently but firmly, but Lana still pushed back out of his grasp and he made a disappointed heavy groan. The groan almost drowned out the little wet popping noise he made emerging from Lana's mouth, almost, but not quite.

Lana turned, and glanced over that bare shoulder at Chloe, and smirked that incorrigible smirk, her eyelids at half-mast.

'C'mere,' she murmured. 'You know you want a taste.'

Chloe bit the inside of her cheek, and nodded, but hesitated.

Lana glanced up at her boyfriend, pumping him slowly as she did so, and she turned those soft dark luminous eyes up at him, batting her eyelashes.

'What do you think, hmm?' she asked him. 'Shall we let the pretty thing have a free sample?'

Chloe writhed on the bed, gasping, her fingers circling, circling, visiting quicksoftly, delving inwards...

Her head pressed back into the pillow. Her voice was tiny as it gasped, "yes. yes please."

Clark nodded down at Lana, and then nodded across at Chloe, his eyes deep and trusting and blue and lusting.

'Yes,' Clark murmured. 'Yes please.'

And Lana grinned, grinned from ear to ear, and beckoned to Chloe with the curl of an elegant finger. 'You heard the man. He even asked nicely.'

Chloe slid down from the bed, too nervous to utter a word, but was emboldened when Clark looked at her crawling towards him on all fours and groaned anew.

Lana popped him into her mouth again for a moment, made a few fluid, graceful motions with her head, her lips enclosing him, and Clark's head again lolled back and he bellowed softly to the ceiling. But as Chloe reached them, she once more extricated that glistening, granite length and cheerfully, cheerfully offered it to Chloe.

'Take a hit,' she encouraged. 'It's better than any peace pipe, that's for sure.'

And Chloe took a deep breath, kept her hazel eyes locked on Clark's face, and accepted Lana's generous offer. Gently she cradled Clark in her hands, and gently she kissed the tip of him, and gently gently she drew him into her mouth...

'Agh. God. Chloe.' Clark whimpered disbelievingly, gazing down at her, and Lana's grin got bolder still.

Clark tasted. Amazing.

He tasted like exertion and possibility and the surface of The Sun and Chloe slid deeper, softly gasping, softly gagging but coping, nostrils flaring...

'Hnnnnh!' Clark stammered. 'God!'

He was loving this, and every quivering motion of his presence in her mouth, every twitch and reaction every microgram of taste, this only served to drive Chloe crazy, and drive Chloe crazier.

Clark was big, but not oppressively big. He was perfect. In every way, Clark was just right. She could get lost in this, get lost in the rhythm of this, her head sliding up and down and back and forth and her tongue doing creative little things to Clark's underside as she went, she could do this for hours.

...but then Chloe felt a hand on her shoulder, and Lana was there, Lana was chuckling. 'Now, now, don't be greedy. You still have to share.'

Chloe nodded, but disappointment surely sleeted her eyes.

Clark seemed to agree, as he vocalised his disappointment with another of those groaning sighs as Chloe withdrew, shuddering and dragging in breath...

'Tell you what,' Lana considered, her hand furling 'round Clark once more and pumping him, keeping him entertained while the girls had a confab, 'I'll go high, and you go low?'

Bewildered, Chloe arched an eyebrow, not quite understanding, but then she looked again at Clark, and then she comprehended...

Lana tilted Clark's length upwards, pointed it at the ceiling, and ran her tongue, her delicious mischievous tongue up and down the underside of it...

...and Chloe, desperate naughty devilish emotions raging in the core of her brain and in her heart and in her neatly-shaven wet-wet places, leaned in and down and began kissing and licking that which dangled beneath the uptilted cock.

Lana capped the tip of him with her mouth, slurping him, as her hand pumped up and her hand pumped down, taking full advantage of the slick sheen of saliva the girls had built up on him.

Chloe kissed him gingerly, and then indelicately, and she nibbled on him and swirled her tongue and Clark was letting out groans so long Chloe was sure he'd pass out for lack of oxygen...

'Ohhhh, fuck.'

Chloe was on hands and knees. Well, one hand, the elbow of the same arm, and both knees. She was facing the head of her bed on knees and sort of hands while her free hand delved furiously furtively fluidly...

Her face was half-mashed into the bedspread and her whole body was pink with excitement and effort and anticipation and fulfillment...

"Ohhhh, fuck."

Suddenly, Lana stood, eliciting stares of bewilderment from both Chloe and Clark.

Her dark hair spilled over her chest, now, partially obscuring the beautiful twin globes of flesh, the rock-hard nipples thereupon. But it did nothing to obscure the brightness of her smile.

She took Clark's hand and beckoned for Chloe to rise and when Chloe rose she took Chloe's hand also. And, both their hands in both of hers, she led them towards the bed.

'That was fun,' she decided. 'Now, let's all go for a ride.'

With a shove, she propelled Clark towards the bed, and then she took Chloe's face in her hands, and kissed her long and deep.

Chloe could taste Clark on her lips, but also, she could taste Lana, and it was the best fusion restaurant she'd ever sampled. Chloe groaned against Lana's mouth, and kissed her furiously, certain that Lana could taste both Clark and Chloe on Chloe's lips and was loving every attosecond of it.

Lana's hands roved over Chloe's body with effortless grace, cupping Chloe's breasts, teasing Chloe's nipples, even one audacious finger making a swirling circle around Chloe's...

Chloe rolled onto her back again, lungs heaving, back arching, shoulders rolling. She had fingers upon her clit, now, and fingers inside herself, she was using both hands on herself. Her hazel eyes were wide wide open but she was sightless she saw nothing except the visions that were planted in her brain.

"Ohgod," she trembled. "Ohgodohgodohgodohgod."

Clark was on his back on the bed. His head was on Chloe's pillow.

Lana straddled Clark's hips. She was his girlfriend, after all, she got top priority...

...but Chloe, head spinning, mind bent, she straddled Clark's face. She was facing down his body, watching Lana, and her knees were kind of tucked under Clark's shoulders, his wide wide shoulders as she lowered herself down to his waiting mouth...

...mirroring Chloe's descent, Lana lowered herself onto Clark's waiting cock, and both women groaned happily, deep and long and low and warm, as beneath them both Clark rumbled with delight...

Clark's lips and tongue started to move and Chloe's mouth fell open and her eyes nearly rolled back into her head.

Lana began to rise and fall and rise and fall and she laughed, she laughed giddy laughter, laughter punctuated with gasps and moans as that just-right length seesawed in and out of her glistening netherlips...

Clark's tongue was surprisingly nimble, like a softwetslithering buzzsaw on Chloe's clit, Lana had taught him well, he was hitting all the right places in all the right order and silver and gold shot up from her womanparts and deep into her brain...

She couldn't breathe, she couldn't think, she couldn't see straight, he was ravishing her with his tongue and her whole body was threatening to topple off of his face... but then he reached up, he reached up with those big strong farming-calloused hands, both hands, and he held her hips and he held her ass and he held her steady as he licklicklicked away...

...Chloe's vision came back into focus and she saw Lana arching her back and clutching at her own breasts with one hand while with the other hand she propelled herself, pushed off of Clark's rock-hard abs and propelled herself up and down up and down, combining the efforts of that hand with her own gorgeous shapely cheerleader legs and the the juttering surging rising falling of Clark's hips...

Chloe saw the length of him. The gorgeous length of him. Emerging and then vanishing, egress and ingress, sliding in and out of Lana like all three of their lives depended on it... faster and faster and better and better just like that tongue, just like that tongue...

...the faster he moved the better he moved and Chloe's mind was blowing...

Lana threw her head back. "FUCK! FUHUUUUUCK! That's it! Right there! Don't stop! FUHUUUUHUUUCK!"

Lana's voice was a shrill scream of delight, an erotic aria, and beneath both women, Clark responded...

...he bucked and jackhammered he rocked and swayed and Chloe could see pale white beads seeping out from around the edges of Lana's tightwet joining with rockhard Clark...

...he wailed muffled noises against Chloe's softest place and

Lana was cumming and

Clark was cumming and

Chloe was cumming.

Her face rocked from side to side as her body convulsed, her muscles roiled and boiled and her breath escaped like steam in concussive spurts of vulgarity and wordless raging joy...

"...h'hhh'hhaggghhhmmm! fuhfuhfuhgawyehmmmmmnnnhhhh! unh! unh! n'uhhh!"

Her fingers were sopping and there was a warm wet patch atop her bedspread beneath her ass and her body was all over tangled up in knots and her voice was ringing from wall to wall to wall...

"ngh! ngh! ohshiyehfuhgawwwwwww..."

It went on for forever. It ended much too soon.

"Clar'," she whimpered, as she slumped into a sweaty heap. "Lan'."

Her eyelids fluttered one last time, and then sank closed.

And she smiled a wry little smile, there as she drifted in and out of a place not-quite waking, not-quite sleeping.

Maybe going crazy won't be all bad, she decided, ruefully, self-bemusedly.

Because when you're crazy, only your delusions can keep you company.

And my delusions are sexy as Hell.

 

[LuckyVic]

Clark Kent

Clark couldn't believe that series events, least of all Lana tossing her wet t-shrt into the truck. Absent mindedly he found himself reaching over to it and picking it and looking it over even more. He was entranced by it. But he soon snapped back to reality and placed the wet shirt back down on the seat next to him and drove off.

He went past the entrance to the kent farm and continued on to what used to be the Johnson homestead, but had since been bought by John Jones to serve as part of his cover. He had sold the much of the extra land to the neighbors on either side of him, which in this case happened to be the Kents (the only ones that knew that John wasn't of this world), and the Seigels. He kept just enough land for himself that it would guarantee his privacy. Of course when John did all this he appeared as a much older version of himself, or at least his human persona.

John was a martian, and as such had the ability to change his shape. In order to fit in he took on the identity of a teenage human. Clark had found him near the Kawatche Caves. He never found evidence of a ship, and John didn't seem to remember how he got to Earth, or really all that much about his past. The Kents helped him out until he was well enough to survive on his own. During that time they learned that he was a telepath, a shape shifter, and was nearly as strong as Clark. The two became fast friends, at last there was someone Clark could relate to. It was because of how close they had become in the last few years that Clark was worried about him.

He pulled up in front of the Jones house and looked around. Nothing seemed to be out of place, nothing damaged. Clark walked up the steps and saw that the mail box was full. John never left mail in the slot longer than a day. He also saw an envolope just under the door, as if someone was trying to slide it in as far as they could. He lowered his glasses and scanned the first few rooms with his x-ray vision. He didn't see anything, out of place. He placed his hand next to the lock and pushed breaking the door right around the lock. He promised himself he'd fix it later.

There was nothing out of place on the ground floor, but when Clark looked up to check the second floor he saw a body on the floor. He sped upstairs and walked in and there on the floor was John, tossing around barely covered in a blanket and was surprising was he was changing shapes between his martian form and his human one. Clark moved over to his friend and placed his arms on his shoulders. "John it's me Clark wake up?" he said as he tried shaking him gently.

 

[ChasNicollette]

"John it's me Clark wake up?" he said as he tried shaking him gently.

Not just his human form and his Martian form...

...he was a jigsaw puzzle, he was multicoloured mercury, he was flowing from one form to the next, prismatic mingling molecular flow...

...there was John Jones Junior, dark hair spilling down from his pate, wise ass grin replaced with a tangled grimace...

...there was the beetle-browed traditional Manhunter shape, the form taken-- not unlike a badge of office --by the lawkeepers of his lost world, this had been his father's task, and J'onn had ever sought to follow in his father's footsteps...

...and then, too, was the natural form of the Green Martian, with the tapered and elongated skull, the cerebrum within far better suited for communicating with higher forms of life, even extraplanar...

...but there were fits and starts and spitting and snarling and his skin went from verdant to chalky, smooth to scaly, and a mouth formed gaping and toothsome in his abdomen and his joints reversed and he turned into a Creature from a White Lagoon...

...for an instant, he had two heads, like a painting on a wall of a cave, and one head was handsome and brave, one head was Clark and the other was feral and devillish, this was the head of a Pale Martian and it hissed and scowled at the Clark head...

...he turned green again, lost mass, single-headed, red hair spilling down over his shoulders, he was female and he was beautiful, a green-skinned red-haired hybrid of human beauty with Manhunter power...

...he became a human woman for a moment, and for a moment, for just an instant, he looked like Lana, but then immediately he looked like the Home Ec teacher from school and after that he was Whitney Fordman's dad, male again, and then he was John Jones Senior...

...Clark's hands were on his shoulders and he came back to himself, John Jones "Junior," glowing red eyes focused once more and became human green eyes... he couldn't find himself, like his mind had gone far far away, unfurling across the light-years, and as he withdrew to himself, he murmured, only once, a cryptic phrase...

"'...the flesh-eating horses of Mars are restless.'"

He closed his eyes, and rubbed his forehead, and clothes blossomed and spread out over his Caucasian skin, plaid and torn denim, and he shook his head...

"Kal-lark?" ...he mumbled, he was lost, he didn't recognise his own home of three years. "Clark? God, God, I'm... I'm hungry and I'm thirsty and... you were at school; how did you get here?"

He blinked again at Clark Kent, John Jones, Jr. very much adrift, very much a cosmic castaway...

And he frowned. "I was at school. How did I get here?"

 

[Lunaramblings]

Lex is busy checking his e-mail while en route to the house. with out a word Lex gets out of his car and walks to his office. Almost lost in the flow of data from his Blackberry.

Lex walks into his office and stops. Turning he looks at the maid as she dusts the mantle.

"Could you bring me a bottle of wine. Merlot I think. And... don't tell father, he would be appalled... but see if you can get the chef to make me a Croque Monsieur. The only thing I ate the first month I spent in Paris. Thank-you."

With out speaking the maid dutifully bows and leaves. A short time later, Lex smiles as his sandwich and bottle of Merlot arrive. Solemnly, Lex pours a glass. Looking at the empty room around him, he smiles, perhaps a bit bitterly, "To friends. Old, New, and to be made." Lex downs his glass of wine and pours another.

Lex sits, his mind racing. Something is going on. He can feel it. His father is up to something, why else would he have this Ape following him around? And then there is this killer. Lex drinks deeply between mouthfuls of sandwich. There is something... And Lex swears a silent oath, that somehow, he will figure it all out.

 

[Abraxas Winterlight]

Kyle, Monday afternoon, after school

"You wanted to see me Mrs. Granger?"

"Yes. Sit down Kyle, we need to go over some options."


I walked in and sat down. I wondered what Mrs. Granger wanted. She caught me on my first day and their weren't any problems. Bekka was pretty good at keeping those away. If you want to stay hidden, the less you bring notice that you even exist the better.

"Kyle, I'll get straight to the point. I was looking over your transcripts and i see that you are going to be short three credits unless you take some electives. Normally a young man such as yourself would have no problem trying out for either football or some other sport, but right now the team is full. Mrs. McGregor says your pretty handy with a pen and paper, so we thought that you would do well to work on the school paper, the Torch."

I closed my eyes a second and sighed.

"The school paper huh? OK, I guess i can do that. Who do I see to get started?"

"Chloe Sullivan. She may be there now, or you can definitely catch her before school if you get here early. You have study hall for first period, I'll write you a note and let Mr. Harrison know that you will be getting acquainted instead of attending."

She then pulled out a pad, wrote down what she said and handed it to me.

"Remember, if she isn't there right now, you can catch her in the morning. Chloe is a very diligent, if unorthodox journalist."

I took the paper from her, crammed it into my pocket and made my way out of the office.

The school paper. Bekka was going to have a fit. Hell, Alan and Kim were going to have kittens. Thing is, I couldn't see a way of getting out of it. Screw it, it might be fun, and I did like to write.

I made my way to the Torch's office but it was locked. Upon leaving the school I noticed why there was more inside traffic than usual. A cold rain was falling (not that i noticed it much). I made my way to my car, started it and made my way home.

Kim was home when I got there, having finished her hair appointment early. As expected, she was not pleased, but also didn't see a easy way out of it. I made it up to my room with only a "be careful" out of her.

A few minutes later Nickleback was playing in the background, the hated contacts were out of my eyes, and I was flipping through channels when I paused and killed the stereo.

It was a breaking news story. It seems some more murders had happened last night. A entire family this time.

The room darkened as the shadows responded to my anger. I knew Claire. Not well, but she sat behind me in History.

Ten minutes later I was changed into jeans, hiking boots and a blue denim shirt. My leather jacket in my hands and my contacts back in, I made my way downstairs.

"Where are you going?" asked Kim

"Out. Gonna go explore a bit. Since i am going to be here a while, I might as well see whats here. I'll be home late."

Kim paused. My status with them was... difficult. I was eighteen, technically a adult, and they knew who I was, so also according to dad's will their boss. But Bekka left them instructions to keep me safe. Lucky for me part of keeping me safe was keeping me sane. Kim was pretty good at knowing when I needed some space.

"OK, but keep your phone on you, and don't be too late. School tomorrow you know. Now scoot."

I smiled at here and made my way to my car. I think I was going to start at the Talon. It was a popular hangout, and maybe I could overhear something over a latte. I wasn't worried about being late, I hadn't slept since I was fourteen.

At least that had stopped the dreams.

 

[LuckyVic]

"'...the flesh-eating horses of Mars are restless.'"

He closed his eyes, and rubbed his forehead, and clothes blossomed and spread out over his Caucasian skin, plaid and torn denim, and he shook his head...

"Kal-lark?" ...he mumbled, he was lost, he didn't recognise his own home of three years. "Clark? God, God, I'm... I'm hungry and I'm thirsty and... you were at school; how did you get here?"

He blinked again at Clark Kent, John Jones, Jr. very much adrift, very much a cosmic castaway...

And he frowned. "I was at school. How did I get here?"

"I don't know. But the last time you were at school was a week ago." Clark told him as he looked him over. "That's probably why your so hungry and thirsty now."

"Get up, get dressed, your coming to the house where you can get some home cooking in you." Clark said once he was sure that John was relatively alright, the thing with John was that you could never tell how John really was cause he held so much in.

 

[ChasNicollette]

J'onn. Monday, late afternoon.

"I don't know. But the last time you were at school was a week ago." Clark told him as he looked him over. "That's probably why your so hungry and thirsty now."

John shrugged his way out of the blanket that had been covering him, but instead of simply knocking it back off of his shoulders and letting it float to the ground, he phased, rendered himself immaterial, and let the blanket simply fall through him. ...it seemed as though he didn't even realise he had done it, it was utterly unconscious, he was lost in thought.

If he'd done that in front of anyone but Clark...

"So it's Moonsday," he mumbled, rubbing his forehead. "But I've been missing since last Moonsday?"

He hesitated. "Moonday. Monday. Just one moon on Earth, not two."

He shook his head. "(Moons of Mars.)"

"Get up, get dressed, your coming to the house where you can get some home cooking in you." Clark said...

John smiled an apologetic smile at his friend. "Yeah. Food would probably be good. I mean. It's weird. I shouldn't need food, or drink, not really, they're just comforts... maybe it's psychosomatic, the Martian body responding to the Martian mind... maybe it's synaesthetic..."

He rose to his feet and shapeshifted a jacket on over the flannel shirt and torn jeans he'd displayed moments previously. His bare toes flexed, and rippled, and suddenly they were encased in boots and socks.

John ran his palm over his own chest, frowning softly. "I want food and drink because I'm missing something. Something important. (Something besides a week of my life.) My mind misses the something so my body misses the food. Synaesthesia."

But then he smiled at Clark, a grateful smile, a smile that turned into wiseassery and a wink as his hands went into his pockets. "But I suppose I can figure that out later. After your beautiful mom makes me a beautiful meal, amIright?"