So, doodled the following... (which, granted, it's particularly smutty compared to the fabulous smut that's out there, but is pretty gosh darned smutty for li'l ole me.)
Chloe thumbed through one of the files in the filing cabinet, chewing on her bottom lip as she went through clippings from the Planet. Finding the story she'd been looking for, she turned to go back to her desk, and almost jumped out of her skin as she came face to chest with Clark Kent.
"Jesus, Clark! You scared me. I didn't hear you come in."
He smiled down at her, but didn't step back. Instead, he reached out to brush her hair back from her face. "Chloe, I've been wondering something all morning."
"What?" she asked, annoyed with herself that his sheer proximity was making her cheeks warm.
"I've been wondering," he said lazily, curling a lock of her hair around one finger, "if your lip gloss was grape or watermelon."
"Clark?" she asked, confused, "What's going--" she began, but her question was lost as his mouth covered hers.
Chloe had always laughed at the trite, flowery descriptions of kisses in romance novels. Stuff like "His lips descended on hers, his tongue plundering the warm depths of her mouth," etc. However, she couldn't help but be struck by the fact that that was exactly what he was doing.
Her eyes went wide as he backed her against the filing cabinet, the drawer handle digging into the spot between her shoulder blades as he slipped one denim clad thigh between her legs. She completely forgot how to breathe as pretty much all her girl parts were suddenly in close proximity to his boy parts.
His really excited boy parts. In the Torch office. In the middle of the day. Where anyone could waltz right in and witness this little porno-in-progress. Using both hands braced against his shoulders, she dragged her mouth from his and he quirked one eyebrow as he licked his bottom lip.
"Strawberry? Now, see, that I never would have guessed."
She tried to back away, but she was trapped between the filing cabinet and three miles of tight black t-shirt clad farmboy with a predatory gleam in his eye. The only thing Clark was ever predatory about was his mother's peach cobbler. She felt like she'd stumbled into the Twilight Zone.
"Clark, what the hell?"
"I just realised that I've been wasting my time," he said with a shrug, and leaned forward, lips brushing her temple, tongue tracing the curve of her ear. "All those nights mooning over Lana," he whispered huskily, his breath tickling her neck, "when I could have been with you."
She blinked, her mouth suddenly dry. He was saying everything she'd ever wanted to hear, but he wasn't quite Clark. Klaxons continued to go off in her brain as his hand drifted down to her hip, pulling her flush against him.
"Um, Clark? You didn't happen to run into any extinct sunflowers that spit glowing green pollen into your face this morning, did you?" She pressed her hand against his forehead, trying to see if he had a fever. "Or maybe last night? Or, you know, any time in the last two--"
He cut her off with another kiss, even hungrier than the last, and she was fighting for breath when he finally let her come up for air.
"...or maybe hyenas?" she asked, dazed, and he chuckled.
"Don't tell me you've never imagined one of those nights where we're working late on the Torch," he smiled again, and it was as far away from the familiar doofy smile she'd come to associate with the Kent charm as it could be while still being called a smile. "And we just threw caution to the wind..." he picked her up and the next thing she knew she had her back against the Wall of Weird, a few articles ripping free from the pushpins that held them and floating lazily to the floor. Her hands gripped his shoulders and her legs were wrapped around his waist and to keep from falling, and her skirt had ridden up almost completely.
Oh great--excited girl parts up against excited boy parts. So not good.
"I mean, I know I always said I didn't want to end up on your Wall," he said with a chuckle, "but I have to admit, the mental image of you on it turns me on."
"Have you been reading Pete's Maxim magazines again?" she asked, trying to keep her voice light despite the way her heart was jack-hammering in her chest. "Because only in Neanderthal-world do women really want to be dragged off to a cave by their hair."
"Come on, Chlo--I know you want me."
Not like this, her brain screamed as he took her hand from his shoulder and began sucking on her fingers one by one, while simultaneously demonstrating that friction was a wonderful thing.
Okay, maybe kinda like this--she admitted to herself even as she bit her lip against a moan-- but not with whoever this pod person is. It took a Herculean effort, but she pushed away from him, getting her legs back beneath her and side-stepping his reaching arms.
"Clark, we so can't do this--" She backed toward the door, feeling for the knob with her fingers. "I mean, we could, but we shouldn't." She shook her head. "We really shouldn't."
"Why?" he asked, green eyes boring into hers as he slipped one finger inside the open neck of her blouse and ran it along her collarbone. "We're in our prime--"
"You're in your prime. Technically, my prime won't actually come until my early 30s." She was babbling as she felt her hand brush the metal doorknob. "It's all just too fast--and you're not yourself."
Her hand closed on the knob, and before she could twist it the door opened from the outside, and she jumped as Pete stuck his head into the office.
"Pete!" She didn't think she'd ever been so relieved.
"Yo, Clark--we've got gym in three minutes--where've you been?"
"Just helping Chloe with the Wall," Clark said as he picked up one of the fallen clippings from the floor and pressed it back into the corkboard scant inches from her head. His hand brushed her shoulder before dropped back to his side.
"Coach is gonna kick our butts," Pete grabbed his arm.
"Raincheck?" Clark asked with a wicked grin as he allowed Pete to drag him out into the hall. Chloe nodded before she could stop herself, and felt hot blood rush to her cheeks.
"What the hell was that?" she muttered to herself as she rebuttoned the top two buttons of her blouse.