Forgiveness

The club was alive with the heartbeat of music. Young, scantily clad bodies, gleaming with sweat and glitter undulated to the rhythm of the bass. Hearts pounded, breath came in fast gasps. It was all pheromones and heat and lust in a pulsing red glow of light that was the only illumination. People ground against each other in public displays of lust that were contagious. It was damn near an orgy. An orgy set to music. It was a mass meeting of lonely souls, all of them longing for companionship, even if it was as fleeting as the duration of one song.  

Chloe Sullivan was lost in the crowd, a loner who accepted the touch of anyone who reached for her, male or female. She didn’t notice who tried to make a connection. She just closed her eyes and swayed to the music. This had become her favorite means of escape from the pain that ached with each thud of her young heart. That’s all her life was now. Painful memories of those she’d lost, and one in particular she’d never really had.
 

Someone was behind her. Big hands rested on her hips, a hard bulge nestled into the taut curve of her ass, somehow demanding and meek at the same time. She ground into it, not resisting when one of those hands rose to one of her breasts. She lay her sweat dampened head against a hard chest and swayed to the constant thump of the music, enjoying the feel of being touched over her clothes. 

*** 

Clark Kent stood on the dock, his eyes scanning the buildings. It was pushing two in the morning, and Hobbs Bay was alive with the worst of the worst. They were more hesitant than ever to commit crime, since the cry of any victim invariably brought the wrath of a faceless blurred avenger. His influence was already known. The world was becoming a better place. Slowly, true, but also surely.
 

Then he heard it, a light moan in a voice he could never forget, never push from his mind no matter how hard he tried. That voice didn’t have to speak a word—he’d recognize it anyway. He didn’t know why Chloe was different from everyone else, but she was. He heard her. He sensed her. Hell, he could even smell her if he were within a few miles of her and the wind was right.
 

Another moan, long and sensual, masked almost completely by the sound of some generic techno beat. She was dancing again, in that club. What was it called? The Red Light District, or some such thing. It was one of the most popular places in Suicide Slums, especially on a Saturday night. The place was directly ahead, a block away. Clark focused his eyes, buildings melted away until he saw a mass of bodies. They melted away too, until he found her.


Some man was grinding against her suggestively. He groped one of her breasts, and she had her head thrown back, her skin gleaming with beads of sweat, her hair damp with it. She didn’t even seem conscious of her surroundings. That wasn’t like Chloe, to let strangers grope her on a dance floor. Clark swallowed, his throat burning, his heart thudding with anger. He wanted the man to get his hands off her.
 

She’s not my woman, he thought. She’s a grown woman who can do what she wants.
 

Without warning Chloe pulled away from the man and began moving through the crowd, a hand to her ear. Her dance partner looked after her with disappointment, but didn’t pursue.
 

‘I’m off duty, Bart’, Chloe said. She was talking through a tiny device that looked like a nearly transparent sticker on her temple, and looked annoyed.  ‘Find somebody else.’
 

She stalked out of the club, taking in a deep breath of the stinking air that must have been fresh and cool compared to the stuff she’d been breathing in the club. She was moving away from him when his cell rang. Clark looked at it. Lois Lane.
 

“Yeah?”
 

“Good evening to you too,” she said irritably. “What are you into?”
 

“I’m busy.”
 

“Doing what?”
 

“Chasing down a lead,” he lied, watching Chloe. She was dressed in a way he’d never seen her dress before. A black, backless dress that clung to her every curve and was almost indecently short. Chloe had a nice back, especially when—
 

“Take a break. Come grab something to eat with me. I’m bored.”
 

“Not tonight, Lois. I’m really busy.”
 

“It’s Saturday night, Clark. Take a break.”
 

Clark sighed. “Lois, I’m really not—”
 

“Fine. I’ll see you Monday morning,” she said shortly, and hung up.
 

Clark put his cell away rushed along a street parallel to Chloe. He emerged half a block down and ducked in an ally.
 

“Are you crazy, walking alone in this neighborhood by yourself at night?” he asked.
 

Chloe continued on, pretending she didn’t hear him. She wore black fuck-me heels that put a nice curve to her muscled legs. Her ass moved nicely under the dress, rising and falling with each step she took.
 

“I know you’re mad at me, Chloe, but this is suicidal.”
 

“If anyone tries to hurt me, you’ll save me,” she finally said in acknowledgement. “Then you’ll go on your way, and I’ll go mine. That’s how it works for the general public, right?”
 

“You’re not the general public, Chloe, and you know it.”
 

He moved in front of her. A hard breeze blew his coat, which billowed out behind him. The shield on his chest glowed blue in the light of the street lamp. Chloe examined him with a smirk.
 

“Nice outfit. A little Goth for you, isn’t it? Oh, wait. I forgot. You’ve left behind your humanity. Well, I guess this suits your Kryptonian side.”
 

“Chloe—”
 

He reached for her. She slapped his hand away, an outright glare on her face. “The last time you walked away from me was the last time you walked away from me. It’s my turn.”
 

Moving around him, she continued on a few blocks, disappearing into the darkness. Clark didn’t pursue her. Hell, he didn’t even know her anymore. 

*** 

The loneliness was pressing in on her again, but it was easier to ignore when concentrating on the pain in her legs and feet. Walking five city blocks in heels as steep as hers wasn’t easy, but it was distracting, and a distraction was exactly what Chloe had needed.
 

Now that pain was being soothed by a hot, steamy bath. She eased back, feeling the heat soak into her muscles, while the soothing scent of milk and roses filled her senses. She sighed, trying to force her mind to remain in the moment and not wander off into the past, or even into the near future with concerns about work.
 

She was doing a fairly good job of it when something heavy weighed on her legs, splashing the water partially out of the big, rounded tub she relaxed in. Her eyes snapped open to find the water churning. Someone was in the tub, submerged in the water. She waited a few panicked seconds and then Clark sat up, milky water cascading over his face.
 

“What the hell are you doing?” she demanded angrily.
 

“Shut up for once,” he said, and reached for her, pulling her onto his lap.
 

“Clark—”
 

Chloe tried to pull away, but Clark had an iron grip on her, pulling her forward until her sensitive flesh was right up against the iron-hard rod of his erection.
 

“Fighting’s over. Time to make up,” he said.
 

“I’m not sure which makes me angrier—that you think I want to make up with you, or that you can just jump in the tub and I’ll fuck you on your terms.”
 

“I’m not asking for your forgiveness, Chloe, and I’m not here to fuck you on my terms. I’m here to fuck you on yours.”
 

“You’re delusional.”
 

“You’re wet, and not from the water. You knew I’d come here tonight. Maybe you didn’t know I’d go this far, but you knew I wouldn’t just let you walk away from me that easily. I love you too much for that.”
 

“You don’t love me,” she said, grateful that her voice sounded angrier than she was actually feeling. Clark was right, she was wet in ways that had nothing to do with water.
 

“Fuck now—talk later,” said Clark.
 

He was moving her up and down the length of his erection, sending ripples of pleasure and need deep into the core of her body. His lips were soft and wet on her neck, and Chloe’s fingers ground into the hard flesh of his shoulders.
 

“No,” she said, and pushed away. He let her go, not because she was strong enough to move away but because she was determined. “It’s not that easy, Clark. I’m not that easy. You’ve hurt me one too many times.”
 

Chloe stood from the water and grabbed a towel. Hearing splashing behind her, she turned and found Clark standing from the milk bath as well. White rivulets coursed over his powerful body, and his erection…it was the most amazing thing she’d ever seen. He made Jimmy look like a little boy. God, could she even handle that…
 

It wouldn’t matter. She had no intention of fucking Clark Kent. Not tonight, not ever. She stomped into her bedroom, heading for her robe, but Clark caught up to her, taking her by her wrists.
 

“I do love you, Chloe. I hurt you, I know, but you’re still hurting me. Every time you turn your back on me it’s like a knife in my chest. Don’t you think you’ve punished me enough?”
 

She let him pull her close.
 

“You’ve never been this hard and unforgiving. If I’ve made you this way, I’m sorry.”
 

He kissed her forehead and whispered, “I love you.”
 

He kissed her left cheek, close to her mouth. “Forgive me.”
 

He kissed her nose. “I love you.”
 

He kissed her lips, “Please, forgive me.”
 

She let him slip his tongue into her mouth. She let him kiss her more deeply than he ever had before, against her better judgment. How long would this last? How long before they had another fight, before he broke her heart again, or she broke his?
 

Chloe didn’t care. They could go their separate ways that very night, but not before she took what she’d wanted for so many years.
 

Clark easily lifted Chloe off her feet and lay her on the bed. He did delicious things to her—things she’d never imagined a man could do to her. Clark drove her to the brink of an abyss of pure pleasure and then pulled away, laying light, wet kisses over her body until he reached her lips. Her body yielded to him as he slipped slowly inside, filling her so completely that it hurt to have him there…but then it had always hurt to have Clark inside her, in her heart, where he'd taken root since the day they'd met.
 

When it was over, Clark lay beside Chloe, holding her close, his breath warm on her hair. His hands were so big, strong, and made her feel safe as they pulled her close to him, and held her there. Chloe sighed and sank into the softness of the mattress, satiated in body, but fearful of heart. How long did they have?
 

“Clark?”
 

“Hmm…”
 

“I forgive you.”