Title: And So Eager (1/1)
Author: sinecure
Character/Pairing: Chloe/Oliver
Rating: Adult (M)
Genre: Smut.
Summary: Chloe and Oliver spend the night in.
Disclaimer: I don't own Smallville
Author's Notes: Written for the Porn Battle on Dreamwidth. No beta due to my own impatience.

Chloe licks a path from Oliver's hip to his abdomen, swirling her tongue and nipping with her teeth as she watches his face. Watches him close his eyes with a sucked in breath.

His hand clenches in her hair, guiding her to where he wants her after so much foreplay. Big surprise.

Definitely big.

"Hello, Mr. Happy." Her lips curve up.

Instead of going immediately where he wants her, she sucks on the skin of his thigh briefly before darting to the other and doing the same. He gasps, cock bobbing proudly. Pressing it to his stomach with light fingers, she draws his balls into her mouth, then runs her tongue up his erection, all the way to the tip where beads of liquid are seeping out.

He's always so patient, but he's losing that thread pretty quickly tonight.

"Chloe..." he manages through clenched teeth, though there's a ghost of a smile hovering there too. His hand releases her with effort, sliding down to caress her cheek, her jaw, her neck. Thumb brushing her lower lip, he uses a little pressure to slide the tip into her mouth the way he wants his cock in there. Eyes hot on her lips, he darts them up to her eyes. "Mr. Happy's beginning to feel neglected."

His hand takes hold of his length and strokes once to show her what he wants.

That's Chloe's goal of course. Seeing him here, like this, shuddering with desire, needing her, that's her goal.

"We'll just see what we can do about that," she murmurs, breath whispering out to make him shudder.

Kneeling higher on the floor between his legs, eyes dropping to his cock, she bites her lip, feeling another wave of desire crash over her and flutter in her belly. She's wet and throbbing and so eager to have him that she can barely hold herself back from climbing on him and fucking him until he's begging her... to stop or to keep going, she's not sure.

She just wants Oliver.

He's deep in her bones and crawling through her veins like the need and desire heating her up.

She slips a hand down between her legs, rubbing her clit quickly while he strokes himself. A moan escapes her lips and a growl leaves his in response. They're giving themselves a little pleasure to tide them over, but it's not enough to do more than tease. To leave them wanting more.

Stopping her ministrations on herself, she encircles his cock with her fingers and strokes him hard, listening to him panting, breath leaving him in sharp gasps. Feeling his hips buck up, wishing they were bucking against hers. Watching him strain against the need to grab her and drive into her.

"Teasing is... all well and good. Chloe." He can barely get out a sentence now, and she feels something in her chest swell at the fact that she is doing this to him. She's never though of herself as a temptress or a tease, certainly not a cock-tease, but tonight, here in his bedroom, surrounded by green and cream and Oliver, she is.

She was never like this with Jimmy, or the man she'd fucked one night after too many drinks a few weeks after Jimmy's death. It was sweet and tender with Jimmy, quick and dirty with the random guy from the bar. But with Oliver, the way he looks at her, the way he touches her, it makes her want to take her time and draw it all out as long as she can.

Make them last by making this last because she's having fun for the first time in a long time.

"Too much for you, Ollie?" Her eyes shine and her lips curve higher.

She wants him to grab her and fuck her hard against the wall, or on the bed, or on her knees on the floor. It doesn't really matter; she'll take him any way she can have him. And she has him a lot these days.

Right now, though she needs him to fuck her, she won't let him yet. The teasing makes it so much more satisfying. She sees his familiar face twisting in pleasure and sticks to her plan of long, desperate foreplay.

No lovemaking, never that.

This isn't about love or complications, it's not about them beyond their bodies and the release they both need. This is about sex, and Oliver, and her.


She struggles to remember the thread of the conversation, lacking though it is in actual depth and sees that he's done waiting. He sits up and scoots to the edge of the bed, eyes on her body, cock in his hand, and she sees that he's going to take her hard and fast and she wants it.


She darts forward, pushing his hand aside. Sliding his erection into her mouth, she palms his balls. Eyes fastened on his, she bobs and sucks, hollowing out her cheeks. Ollie drops back a little, just enough to catch himself with his arms braced behind him.

"Fuck," he groans and there's desperation in that one, naughty little word that layers texture on sound. "Chloe."

Hearing her name in that same desperate tone, she slips him free to take a breath, feeling her heartbeat speed up and more moisture flood her folds. He wraps his lips around her name like a man dying of thirst does to a bottle of water. There's need in there, for her. And she feels it too. She's throbbing and wet and squeezing her legs together as if that helps.

It never does.

"Ollie," she manages, and there's almost as much need in her voice as there is in his. His eyes grow darker. There's something hot and sexy and demanding about the look he gives her. And she can't wait any longer. "Fuck me." She's not sure if it's a demand or an exclamation, but it makes him move and she moves with him until she's on all fours on the thick carpet with him holding her from behind.

"Ready." He doesn't ask exactly, he's too far gone for that, but it's a courtesy she appreciates, even if it is unnecessary.

"God, yes." Impatience is catching. She can't wait. She needs him inside her now. Rocking back, she whimpers when his cock rubs her folds.

Then he moves, sliding into her and he's there, so deep, so-

Hard. Fast. Moving with a speed she can hardly keep up with.

She needs this now, needs him. Ollie is something she can't give up, like breathing.

Fucking Oliver and being this primal and close to him is a state unto its own, feeding her needs and wants until they're bursting from her in rhythmic cries of pleasure. His animalistic groans accompany her until it's all there is; him and her and their bodies moving in unison. His fingers dig into her waist and she loves it.

"Jesus, Chloe." It's a groan and a hiss, deep in his throat.

He leans over and bites her shoulder and she screams, feeling so close she could fall right now, but manages to hold on for another dozen strokes. It comes as a surprise and a welcome friend, the extreme pleasure hurtling her into the stratosphere. She clenches around him uncontrollably, fingers digging into the carpet as her hips buck and jerk. Wave after wave of pleasure crashes over her, through her, in and around her, forcing another scream from her lips, torn from her throat.

Body clutching at him still, she shakes, nearly dropping to the floor, but he's holding her up.

Fingers. Hips. Chest. All are touching her now, cock thrusting hard and deep as he loses control and slips free once and then again. He's desperate again. Still?

She thinks this is the time when Oliver is really and truly himself, when he's needy and striving for release, fucking her and slaking his own lust. This is the Oliver no one else sees now. Just her. And it thrills her like nothing else. She feels like she owns a part of him.

And she knows he owns a part of her.

Licking her dry lips, she swallows a few times, forcing her knees to continue to support her. She drops her upper body low, and hears him grunt as he thrusts and drives into her. She is wet and sated. Still clenching around his cock. She wants to talk dirty, to tease him, to encourage him to come, but she's unable to form the words. It doesn't matter, he's close.

He's breathing harshly, slamming into her now in shorter strokes. Voice getting lower and less coherent, he slides his hands down to cup her breasts and pinch the nipples, nails scraping along the flesh unevenly with every thrust.

"Beautiful," he mumbles, words pouring from him in a way that always startles her. "Feel... great. Need- so wet."

He grabs her waist again and she can feel it begin to build in her again, but knows he's not going to last. Fighting it, she rocks back on him. Shorter strokes. Faster. He's almost-

"Chloe-" he chokes out, burying himself deep inside her for a moment, hips bucking against her ass. His cock spasms in her, shooting his seed deep inside. He's pushing her lower into the carpet, and she's forced to brace herself against his wild movements and the hot slickness of his body. It thrills her that he gets like this. She loves this side of Oliver, the man who's so calm in the face of danger, lost now in the throes of pleasure.

She's burning for him again, ready to come, and she reaches down to rub her clit, brushing his cock, still buried deep inside her. "Shit," she gasps, body twitching around him as he pulls out a little and slides back in. Then again, riding out each shudder as he begins to soften. His fingers join hers and he pulls all the way out, sliding free with a jerk against her body.

"Let me- turn around." Urging her to lay on her back, he kneels before her, taking in every inch of her with heated eyes, still full of desire, though mostly sated now. Instead of using his fingers, he lays on the floor between her legs and licks her. Flicks her clit, nibbles at it, then slides his tongue inside her. "I love the way you taste."

He's still breathless and his chest rises and falls quickly, but he's able to speak, which is more than she can say.

She just nods. On the verge. She's going to come again.

Oh, yes.

Sliding her feet up, she raises her knees on either side of his head, and rocks into his mouth, shivering and shaking with each lick and suck. Her hands cup her breasts, playing with them, pinching the nipples. "Faster," she gets out between clenched teeth, sucking in a deep breath when he slides two fingers into her. "Ollie!" It's ineffectual in expressing how she feels right now, what he's doing to her, but it's all she can get out.

"Tell me what you want." His eyes glow in the low lighting, face shadowed by gloom, and in him she sees something she's always known was there, but only spots occasionally; darkness.

"Tongue, fingers." They're in her already, and she's nearly there, nearly... nearly-

He slides another finger in and sucks on her clit and it hits her, suddenly and without warning, breaking over her entire body as she comes. Pleasure, hitting her in waves, batters at her, washing over her, through her. It's too much and not enough and she's clenching her fingers in his hair. Squeezing.

"Fuck. Ollie!" Hips rising, she rides out the pleasure, hanging in midair for a moment before letting her hips lower, only to shudder and buck some more.

His arms slide under her and around her thighs and he buries his face deeper, licking and sucking with abandon, holding her still as she tries to buck again. Hair tickling her thighs, he moves his head this way and that to get all of her. He likes the flavor of her, but loves the taste of both of them.

And he likes to share. Setting her gently on the floor, he crawls over her and kisses her hard, his sweat-slickened body brushing against hers. She pulls him down until they're sticking together, gasping and clutching at one another.

There's tongue and teeth and lips and... them.

It's all gone, all reduced to this. To them. To their mingled flavors.

And the revelation that bombarded her on top of her second orgasm comes to the fore again and she's okay with it because it's not a bad thing to love Oliver Queen.