Disclaimers: If they were mine, things would get messy.

Spoilers: None, really.

Summary: Wankfic: Not just for the boys anymore.

Ratings Note: NC-17

Author's Note: I wanted to write something. Bas told me what to do.
God, I love it when she's masterful.

Acknowledgments: To Bas, LaT, and Sarah for audiencing, and
providing the stimulating conversation that *led* to this whole
shebang. Yay, IRC! Also? Smooches to my Webrain. I'll get back to
the boys soon enough, I swear.

Feedback makes my heart pound. leytelj@gmail.com

*

Chloe really wishes she had an aunt sometimes, or a mother like the
kind you saw on tampon commercials. An older woman she could talk
to *seriously* about sex and growing up and how blossoming into
womanhood only made sense if you were talking about those smelly,
carnivorous flowers in the South American rainforests.

Of course, she can't *really* entertain thoughts like that. Her parents
have been divorced since she was five, and her mother is still in
Metropolis -- that's the only reason it's even a possibility. Distance and
all that.

Still, those few times where she's gotten up the nerve to actually call
her mother *to* talk about this stuff, she always loses it within minutes.
It's not like her mother *wouldn't* talk to her -- since her Dad had
been awarded custody, her mother has taken pretty much any excuse
available to "bond" with Chloe -- it's just...

She doesn't want her mother to be like that. Moms should be *moms*,
not friends, or confidants, or whatever you called the person you could
talk to about masturbation and how afraid you were of that whole
"sexual peak" thing.

Because... well. Chloe spends a lot of time thinking about all the weird
Meteor Monsters, and wonders how long it's going to be before they
get some kind of glowy green werewolf or something else with a good
sense of smell.

Something that would *notice* just how often Chloe is horny as *hell*.

And really, it wouldn't be so bad if she had *someone* to talk to about it,
but she's kinda low on the whole female friends quotient. And the
guys... well, Pete's sweet, and he *does* try to be a good listener, but
sometimes he looks at her like...

Like *that*. Chloe's smart enough to know that discussing sex with him
could lead to all kinds of disaster.

As for Clark... heh. That's a whole 'nother kind of disaster waiting to
happen. Though some of her best fantasies start out *just* that way. Out
in the barn, late afternoon. Smell of hay and Clark all around her, even
though he wouldn't be all that close.

He's spent enough time out there that it might as well be his bedroom,
and that makes Chloe think... thoughts.

Chloe takes a quick look at her door to make sure it's closed and grins
to herself. Lays back against her pillows and kicks her books off the foot
of the bed. Taps the button of her jeans.

Snugs herself back a little more comfortably and strips off her sweater.
Thinks about losing her bra, but... no. It's a new one. Completely
impractical in terms of support -- and she's beginning to wonder if they'll
*ever* stop growing -- but lacy. Lacily uncomfortable against her nipples
in just the right way. This itch that can't be scratched, not really, and
when she takes off the bra tonight the pattern of the lace will be
imprinted on her aureoles.

Weird little torture that makes some part of her... spark.

"Clark," she'd say, "is it true that teenage boys jerk off, like, all the time?"

And Clark would blush, stammer something. Say her name all outraged,
because Clark, for all of his prettiness -- such, such prettiness -- is kind
of a prig. Or thinks he should be when it comes to girls, which is kinda
the same thing. Sort of.

Chloe would just grin at him. "C'mon, we're friends, right? Who else can
we talk to about stuff like this?" And maybe she'd look a little forlorn.
She's been watching Lana. She thinks she can duplicate some of that, if
she had a good cause.

Clark... Clark would probably do the puppy thing. Look down and away.
"Yeah, it's true... I mean, I can talk to Pete about. Um. The guy stuff,
but..."

God, he's hot when he does that. Makes her belly flip every time. Even
when he's not actually *in* the room. Chloe runs a hand down the seam
of her jeans, pushing up against her sex. Not too hard. Not yet. Control.
Or something. Fuck, she's already so *hot*... Fantasy. Right. Doesn't
want to come too quick, because then she'll just have to do it again,
and she *does* have homework tonight.

Squeezes her eyes shut a little. Tries to imagine Clark, the embarrassed
look, the predatory feeling... heh. "Hey, it's not *my* fault the girls in
this town don't think about sex until their skeezy boyfriends hit on them,"
she'd say. Just indignantly enough, and Chloe runs a finger over her
trapped nipple.

Shivers at that, and Clark's imaginary goofy smile.

She wants to feel that smile against her chest, her belly. Wants him to
grin at the way he'd make her moan. God, that *mouth*... and yeah,
she'd be thinking about that in her fantasy world, and she'd flush, and,
because it was a fantasy and perfect -- Clark would just think she was
blushing.

She would even look down.

Try her own puppy look as Clark stumbled and stammered through a
promise that she could always come to him. About anything.

"Friends, right?" he'd say, and punch her arm lightly.

"Right," she'd say. Then look him right in the eye. "So is it true about
guys and jerking off?"

Flash image of Clark's hand on his cock, moving faster and faster, and
she's seen him hard. Through his jeans. Every guy has had at least *one*
ill-timed erection, and Clark's no different. He'd be... oh, he'd be big,
and it's okay to think about that because *he* would be.

He wouldn't be able to help it. Chloe spreads her legs, arches up against
an imaginary lover. One that would tease. One that loves to see her
give it up...

Clark would be blushing to his ears, shifting on the hard old couch.
"Jeez, Chloe, it's not like I took a poll!"

Chloe snickers inside the fantasy, quietly without. "You'd be so
*earnest*... wandering around with a clipboard..."

"God, the look on Pete's *face*. *He'd* string me up on a pole this
time."

And Chloe would laugh, even if she didn't think the idea was all that
funny, because... Clark would be relaxing again. Some part of her
knows this is the way it should be. The way it would *have* to be.

Clark had to be coaxed. Teased. Tied up and calmed down and Chloe
tries to imagine herself looking anything but *hungry* in the fantasy,
but it's just not possible. She would... throw her head back while she
was laughing, maybe. A little dramatic, but it would hide the look in
her eyes until she got herself under control.

God. Can't even think some words without... Chloe yanks at her jeans,
groans a little when they push up right where she needs it. Tight jeans
as erotic tool. Who knew? She grins and yanks again, again, but can't
quite get the same brutal *heat* back. Next time. Finally just unzips
and tugs them down just enough.

Likes the way her jeans and panties force her hand to stay right *there*.
Weirdly efficient, plus she can get dressed again *fast*, just in case. She
can feel her clit peeking out already and can't help but rub her writing
callus against it. Gasps and bites her lip and it's an *effort* to not just
*do* this, fast and rough, because hey, maybe she'd only have to do it
again once or twice, and her grades are good enough to slip, right?

Yeah, she can see that conversation. "Well, Dad, if it wasn't for all the
masturbation..."

*That* image helps. Brings her back. Where was she? Oh, yeah. Gazing
at Clark with a sparkle in her eye. Or, you know, a predatory gleam,
but maybe the barn is dark. "So tell me how often *you* do it," she'd
say.

And Clark would blush again, because he just *does*, but it wouldn't be
as big this time. He'd eye her a little. Give her a faux-suspicious look
that would nonetheless make her work hard not to just lean forward
and ruin everything. "Why do you want to know?" he'd ask.

And Chloe would roll her eyes, but she wouldn't even have to fake the
embarrassment. Because as hot as it is to think about saying this stuff...
well. "I'm just curious. They always say men are hornier than women,
especially teenaged guys, but..."

"You don't think it's true?"

"Let's just say that I don't *really* have to go to the bathroom twice a
day." And she'd lean back, letting that sink in, and, okay, she *deserves*
this. Gives her clit a long, hard rub. Slow. She's not wet enough, but
she likes it that way, and just thinking about those bathroom trips...

Door closed and pants around her ankles and giggling girls *right
outside* fixing their makeup and washing their hands and she has to
be quiet, has to be *silent*, because if they knew --

Rubbing herself faster before she's fully aware of it, and *now* she's wet,
but dammit, why do all her fantasies have to get hijacked by random
imagery before she comes?

Wrenches her hand out of her panties with a little grunt that makes
her blush and stops.

Breathes.

Writhes a little because her nipples are pretty much as hard as they
*get* and her bra... mm. Twists them, pushing the lace against the
suddenly *very* sensitive skin and. Would Clark do it this hard?

Has to bite her lip again. Had Clark ever even touched someone's
breasts before? Nnn... and it's not like she's all *that* experienced, but
Clark takes virginity to a whole new level. She would... Chloe thinks
she'd go out and *learn* to be kinky just to have a chance to teach
Clark the same...

Clark who would be all scandalized when he realized how much she
masturbated, sputtering through all sorts of "seriously?" and "really?"
and so on and so on until guy mode clicked on. It would have to.
He'd... clear his throat or something. Look at her from under her
lashes. Maybe his voice would be a little deeper. "So... you do it twice
a day?"

And she'd have to be casual. She definitely wouldn't be, say, running
her slick hand down her belly and teasing at her navel. She'd say,
"well, not when I'm feeling sick or something. And... I almost always
do it again before I sleep. Or before I do my homework. Or... both."
She'd smile, just like she's smiling now. A little wet. A little sharp, like
her own scent.

Chloe licks her finger, sucks at the short nail and has to "mmm" a little.
She likes the way she tastes. Sometimes enough to worry her a little.

Not that there's anything wrong with that.

Clark would say something like... "wow." Or maybe just nod. He
wouldn't be able to stop looking at her.

Which is just... God. She'd want to just crawl over to him and kiss that
mouth. Bite it. *Feel* him. See if the heat she suspected every time she
got a hug was there and grind against it until he had to touch her.
Clutch at her and kiss her and fuck her mouth with his tongue like the
world's least subtle jockstrap, but it would be okay because it was
*Clark*.

Chloe can't help thrusting her finger into her mouth, sucking and licking
until most of her own musk is gone, twisting her nipple with her other
hand and she'd want to make noise.

She wants... she'd want to suck Clark's *cock*, and the thought, the pure,
ruthless *fact* of it makes something inside just flare. Like a cold so
vicious it burned, or maybe the other way around.

Drags her finger out of her mouth with a wet little pop, but forces
herself to pause before slipping back under her panties.

Fantasy. Yeah, right. Hell. Clark would be staring, and Chloe would stare
right back. *See* me, she'd be saying with her eyes. Not just your
not-quite-a-guy friend. She's a *girl*. With breasts, and a pussy she really
likes to play with.

That she plays with all the time. Even in school. Same building where
you moon over dry-as-dust Lana, Chloe's there, fingers inside herself...

She'd be *willing* him to see that, see all of that and make up things she'd
never even done. And since it's *her* fantasy, Clark would.

And he'd swallow. Maybe notice right then how they're staring so deep
into each other's eyes. How alone they are.

And he'd start to reach out. "Chloe --"

"What about you?"

"Wha...?"

*Score*. Lost and confused Clark. Lips parted and just a little hungry Clark
and Chloe gets her finger back where it belongs, lets her knees fan open
until they're almost touching the mattress and goes for it.

"How often do you jerk off, Clark? Do you do it at school?"

"I... no!"

She'd giggle, then. Or... no. A nice, low chuckle. An adult-sounding
chuckle. "Never? You never get... you know... hard when we're stuck
in class?"

He'd be watching her mouth. Swallow again and ohh. Lick his lips.
Smile into her eyes and God but Chloe's *aching*. Still hasn't figured
out how to charge an order from goodvibes.com on her Dad's card
without getting caught and she *needs* something inside her.

Something big, and hard, and nowhere near as useless as the handle
to her hairbrush and Chloe has to whine a little at the back of her
throat. Flex her inner muscles and try not to think about it.

About Clark.

Whose blush would be getting smaller and smaller. "I wouldn't say
*that*..." he'd say, and smile a little slyly. Catching on.

And Chloe would duck her head, look up through her own lashes.
"So what do you do. When you get hard..."

Clark would close his eyes a little. Take a deep breath that would
make Chloe flush all the way to her toes. Could he smell her? Does
he know how bad she wants this? And Clark would laugh, but it
wouldn't reach his eyes. Not really. "Well," he'd say. "Do you want a
demonstration or something?"

"Oh *fuck* Clark --" And Chloe bites her own lip hard enough to taste
blood to keep herself from yelling any more than she already has.
Coming hard and *long*, arching half off the bed and shaking, even
her hands are shaking, and that just makes it better.

Hotter.

Clark would be...

Oh God, Clark would be...

And Chloe gasps, flopping back to the bed in an ungraceful sprawl.

Grins helplessly, tapping her clit to get every last aftershock. To make
them all count.

Orgasms nice.

Chloe giggles a little breathlessly and brings her hand back to her
mouth, running her finger over her lips like the world's least subtle
makeup before sucking it clean again.

Well. Mostly clean. Here's hoping she wouldn't have to shake any
hands before she got the chance to scrub herself back to respectability.

Mmm, Clark.

Best confidant ever.

Whether he knew it or not.

End.