Sense Memory
folder
Smallville › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
4,154
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Smallville › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
4,154
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Smallville. None of these characters belong to me. They belong to The WB and whoever else does. I pay homage to them and I make no profit from this story in any fashion, way or means.
Sense Memory
TITLE: Sense Memory
AUTHOR: Midknight
CHAPTER: 1 of 1
FANDOM: Smallville
SHIP: Lois / Clark
RATING: NC-17
CATEGORY: Erotica
SPOILERS: A couple, Season Nine
UNIVERSE: WARNING: SPOLIERS SEASON 9. Lois is being overwhelmed by her flashbacks. The future she seems to be dreaming about is worrying, but the rest leaves her looking at Clark in a brand new light.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Smallville. None of these characters belong to me. They belong to The WB and whoever else does. I pay homage to them and I make no profit from this story in any fashion, way or means.
AUTHORS NOTE: I apologize before hand and hope you will forgive any errors or blatant discrepancies.
FEEDBACK: Yes Please. It helps. It really, really helps. – midknight_tales@yahoo.com
Lois woke with a start, snapping into a sitting position as she desperately tried to draw breath. The t-shirt she wore to bed clung to her sweaty skin, damp with perspiration that had soaked it. Her heart pounded against her ribs and she had to swallow several times to work moisture into her throat and mouth. Her heaving chest made her hard, swollen nipples scrape against the damp cotton sending tingling shocks into her. She ran her hand through her hair, finding it as damp as her skin. She fumbled at the dresser next to her and the room was flooded with light as she turned on the bedside lamp to chase away the darkness. She looked around her room, noticing the covers she must have thrown off during the dream lying on the floor some distance from the bed, trying to make sure that he wasn’t there and that this was reality and not just a sick continuation of the vivid dream she’d been having for the fourth night running and on and off for the last several weeks.
She reached over and nearly knocked over the glass of water she’d thought to pour herself before going to sleep, her hand shook so much. She clutched it in both hands grateful for the coolness and solidity as she sipped at it. “What the hell is going on with me?” she wondered out loud as she drained the glass and set it back on the dresser. She shucks off the sodden t-shirt and the air feels wonderfully cool against her skin and gives her a way to rationalize the stiffness of her nipples. A replacement t-shirt is in a drawer on the other side of the room and she can’t muster the will to get up. Sleep would be elusive, even after she retrieved the covers and wrapped them around her, bundling most of it against her breasts and abdomen to curl around it.
It hadn’t come the nights before… not until she’d… and sleep was still no guarantee of rest. She switched off the lamp returning the room to darkness. But, being awake wasn’t exactly a port of safety either. It gave her time to ponder in the dark and worse yet, twice now she had slipped off into daydreams as vivid as the one she’d just had. She had never had dreams like this before, they were so vivid and real she could still feel… A shiver ran through her as her sex flexed, clenched and twisted against itself on a slippery flood of her sex grease at the memory.
It was the same every time. There was a welter of horrific images of war, destruction, chaos and mayhem. The sky was on fire, a mirror to the world burning below it, basically all the worst parts of the bible edited into a highlights package with the personal touch of seeing her cousin die that made her blood run cold and then… Then she is in his arms, his strong, warm arms and his hands are pulling her naked body to his and nothing else matters as his lips claim hers. She has the distinct feeling there is more, but at that point she couldn’t care. It is Clark Kent like she has never seen him before. She opens her mouth under his hungry insistence, their heads twisting, lips sliding sinuously together to cement their kiss while his tongue duels and wrestles with hers. She buries her fingers in his hair as one of his does the same with hers. The over slides down her back and confidently cups her ass, pulling her tighter against him. She can feel his manhood, thick, long, hard and throbbing against her belly.
Clark’s eyes stay locked with hers the whole time and she drowns in the pale blue pools, her body melting against his. He lifts her off her feet and she instinctively curls her legs around his hips as he lowers them both to the ground. Their surroundings are indistinct, but the ground or floor is warm and soft. Her skin is on fire, tingling with blazing life and even more so when his skin touches hers. Her breath shudders into her lungs and her body shudders with sudden tension as he looms over her and she can feel the tip of his manhood brush through her folds as he settles some of his weight on top of her. He is overpoweringly masculine, virile, and dominant and the naked hunger in his eyes is both a little scary and arousingly exciting. He kisses her again, an urgent tangle of lips and tongues and nipping teeth that leaves her breathless.
She gasps when his hips buck and his shaft slides through and then up along her slit, missing its intended target, but brushing cross her clit with shocking effect. He pulls back and his next thrust is slower, more controlled and her breath hitches as he finds her entrance and slides into her. She is wet and open, willing and eager for him, but he is thick and long and her flesh resists him as he stretches and fills her, fights his invasion. It fails as he drives through her clutching, flexing, twisting channel, lancing into her roiling, molten core without pause and undeniable strength. Her legs tighten around him along with her arms as she tries to hold him still while she adjusts not only to his manhood, but also to the sharp surge of pleasure that makes her body quiver. His forearm is warm across her shoulder, his hand a pillow for her head as his fingers dig into her wealth of hair to massage her scalp. His other hand strokes down her chest, the outer and lower curve of her breast before he cups, weighs and fondles it.
Her nipples are so hard they ache and when his thumb brushes across it she flinches with the shocking charge of sensation that radiates from it into her chest. She watches his jaw clench and the edges of his eyes tighten while his nose flares as he draw in a heavy breath as he starts to move inside her. She relaxes her legs, keeping them loosely around him as they become futile at holding him. He really is big, the largest she has ever had and discomfort and pleasure mix for his first few strokes and she floods almost in defense. But, soon she writhes and undulates to match him, her legs tightening and relaxing to pull him to her. Her hands clutch at his flexing shoulders, her nails testing the hard shifting muscles under his skin. Her belly slides against his, silk on satin wrapped over steel. She can feel perspiration pop out onto her skin, the droplets combining and forming ticklish, wet rivulets that along her skin drawing strange and unfathomable patterns.
His lips find hers for short, intense kisses when they are not exploring the ski of her neck, throat and shoulders. She is too breathless to do more with her mouth than suck in air. Each time his body collides with hers the shockwave and resultant burst of delight drive the air from her with a soft cry. She clutched at the back of his head with a rough gasp as his lips latched onto her the nipple his fingers weren’t still stimulating. He sucks, nips and laps at the hard, sensitive little nub and she rolls her shoulder to feed more of her breast out of instinct and need as conscious thought is only a vague memory. His suckling lips sends sharp needles of lightning into her chest to join the sparks that make her spine twitch and arch and drive her nerves to overload.
The collisions occur faster and faster his hips unrelenting and demanding, along with the wet slap of skin surrounding them until she panting. He lances into her with masculine power, driving to her very centre like no other has. Pain and pleasure are indistinguishable as he pushes her to the limit of her endurance. Someone is whining, mewling and crying out and she is shocked and surprised to find out it was her as she starts to tremble with the electric energy building up inside her. His lips are no longer on her skin as he strains above her and she can see his teeth bared with feral concentration. His eyes burn with passion she would never have connected to him and a small part of her is mesmerized by her own reflection in them.
She can hardly keep up with him, her muscles and nerves sing with the exertion and flood of sensation. His face. The world around them becomes a confused blur as her head thrashes from side to side, her damp hair whipping her face and his chest. Her lungs burn with the desperate effort of processing air and her blood is pounding in her ears, but it doesn’t block out the way he says her name, two tantalizing, smoky, sultry syllables strung together with awe and adoration and repeated again and again. And, then everything freezes, for just the tiniest fraction of a moment she is at peace like she had never been before. The moment shatters in the violent surge of her climax, a blast of pure bliss that sets her body to shuddering, her sex to clenching spasming as it flooded and she can feel the scream of release bubbling up her throat as her eyes go wide and then… And then… she wakes up.
The first time, she had just dismissed it, thought it was just that she missed him, but after his return, it had only gotten worse. The daydreams had been even worse, because he’d been right there on both occasions, his earnest blue eyes staring at her, his voice calling her name when she’d snapped out of them and for a fleeting moment the dream and the reality had overlapped and she had almost given in to her desire. She’d covered with anger and sarcasm and found an excuse to storm off. He had to think she was insane or more insane than he already thought. Sometimes she theorized her subconscious was mixing her obsession with The Blur and her growing infatuation with Clark to create the dreams, but it didn’t quite ring true, the two were just too different. Thinking of Clark as a lover, definitely had its appeal, she just couldn’t understand the context and manner in which she did. “Do I want him to take me like that?” she wondered for the umpteenth time.
The echoes of her climax remained, but so does the tension of incomplete frustration. She groans and buries her face in her pillow. She lies perfectly still for a few moments and then she lets her hand steal downward. The cotton of her panties are as damp as her t-shirt, but not from perspiration as she peels it away from her skin to give her fingers access. Her folds are slick and swollen, her clit sensitive to the slightest touch as she slowly and knowledgeably explores herself. She closes her eyes and his face appears behind her eyelids unbidden, but it is not the face of her dreams, not the hungry demigod who possessed her so completely, it is the one she sees every day at the desk across from hers. Her other hand lightly caresses her breasts, barely touching her nipples, a sharp contrast to the mauling he gave her in her dream.
A soft smile curves her lips and the image of him mirrors the expression as she lets her fingers delve deeper, to the secret places she had discovered as a teenager while her thumb diddled the sensitive pearl of her clit. It takes a little while, even as revved up as she is, but eventually, she gasped and then squeaked against the pillow as her channel clenched and rippled around her stroking fingers and her toes curling, scraping along the sheets as her muscles lock and she drove herself to orgasm. It isn’t the knockout punch she imagined from her dream, but it does the job as she unwinds in slow degrees. Her heartbeat becomes normal and then along with her breathing slows as she stretches out. She is both grateful and fearful a she feels sleep start to overcome her and the last thing she sees before she drifts off to a thankfully dreamless sleep is Clark’s crooked smile become all too knowing for comfort and just a hint of the blazing hunger flare behind his eyes.
THE END
AUTHOR: Midknight
CHAPTER: 1 of 1
FANDOM: Smallville
SHIP: Lois / Clark
RATING: NC-17
CATEGORY: Erotica
SPOILERS: A couple, Season Nine
UNIVERSE: WARNING: SPOLIERS SEASON 9. Lois is being overwhelmed by her flashbacks. The future she seems to be dreaming about is worrying, but the rest leaves her looking at Clark in a brand new light.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Smallville. None of these characters belong to me. They belong to The WB and whoever else does. I pay homage to them and I make no profit from this story in any fashion, way or means.
AUTHORS NOTE: I apologize before hand and hope you will forgive any errors or blatant discrepancies.
FEEDBACK: Yes Please. It helps. It really, really helps. – midknight_tales@yahoo.com
Lois woke with a start, snapping into a sitting position as she desperately tried to draw breath. The t-shirt she wore to bed clung to her sweaty skin, damp with perspiration that had soaked it. Her heart pounded against her ribs and she had to swallow several times to work moisture into her throat and mouth. Her heaving chest made her hard, swollen nipples scrape against the damp cotton sending tingling shocks into her. She ran her hand through her hair, finding it as damp as her skin. She fumbled at the dresser next to her and the room was flooded with light as she turned on the bedside lamp to chase away the darkness. She looked around her room, noticing the covers she must have thrown off during the dream lying on the floor some distance from the bed, trying to make sure that he wasn’t there and that this was reality and not just a sick continuation of the vivid dream she’d been having for the fourth night running and on and off for the last several weeks.
She reached over and nearly knocked over the glass of water she’d thought to pour herself before going to sleep, her hand shook so much. She clutched it in both hands grateful for the coolness and solidity as she sipped at it. “What the hell is going on with me?” she wondered out loud as she drained the glass and set it back on the dresser. She shucks off the sodden t-shirt and the air feels wonderfully cool against her skin and gives her a way to rationalize the stiffness of her nipples. A replacement t-shirt is in a drawer on the other side of the room and she can’t muster the will to get up. Sleep would be elusive, even after she retrieved the covers and wrapped them around her, bundling most of it against her breasts and abdomen to curl around it.
It hadn’t come the nights before… not until she’d… and sleep was still no guarantee of rest. She switched off the lamp returning the room to darkness. But, being awake wasn’t exactly a port of safety either. It gave her time to ponder in the dark and worse yet, twice now she had slipped off into daydreams as vivid as the one she’d just had. She had never had dreams like this before, they were so vivid and real she could still feel… A shiver ran through her as her sex flexed, clenched and twisted against itself on a slippery flood of her sex grease at the memory.
It was the same every time. There was a welter of horrific images of war, destruction, chaos and mayhem. The sky was on fire, a mirror to the world burning below it, basically all the worst parts of the bible edited into a highlights package with the personal touch of seeing her cousin die that made her blood run cold and then… Then she is in his arms, his strong, warm arms and his hands are pulling her naked body to his and nothing else matters as his lips claim hers. She has the distinct feeling there is more, but at that point she couldn’t care. It is Clark Kent like she has never seen him before. She opens her mouth under his hungry insistence, their heads twisting, lips sliding sinuously together to cement their kiss while his tongue duels and wrestles with hers. She buries her fingers in his hair as one of his does the same with hers. The over slides down her back and confidently cups her ass, pulling her tighter against him. She can feel his manhood, thick, long, hard and throbbing against her belly.
Clark’s eyes stay locked with hers the whole time and she drowns in the pale blue pools, her body melting against his. He lifts her off her feet and she instinctively curls her legs around his hips as he lowers them both to the ground. Their surroundings are indistinct, but the ground or floor is warm and soft. Her skin is on fire, tingling with blazing life and even more so when his skin touches hers. Her breath shudders into her lungs and her body shudders with sudden tension as he looms over her and she can feel the tip of his manhood brush through her folds as he settles some of his weight on top of her. He is overpoweringly masculine, virile, and dominant and the naked hunger in his eyes is both a little scary and arousingly exciting. He kisses her again, an urgent tangle of lips and tongues and nipping teeth that leaves her breathless.
She gasps when his hips buck and his shaft slides through and then up along her slit, missing its intended target, but brushing cross her clit with shocking effect. He pulls back and his next thrust is slower, more controlled and her breath hitches as he finds her entrance and slides into her. She is wet and open, willing and eager for him, but he is thick and long and her flesh resists him as he stretches and fills her, fights his invasion. It fails as he drives through her clutching, flexing, twisting channel, lancing into her roiling, molten core without pause and undeniable strength. Her legs tighten around him along with her arms as she tries to hold him still while she adjusts not only to his manhood, but also to the sharp surge of pleasure that makes her body quiver. His forearm is warm across her shoulder, his hand a pillow for her head as his fingers dig into her wealth of hair to massage her scalp. His other hand strokes down her chest, the outer and lower curve of her breast before he cups, weighs and fondles it.
Her nipples are so hard they ache and when his thumb brushes across it she flinches with the shocking charge of sensation that radiates from it into her chest. She watches his jaw clench and the edges of his eyes tighten while his nose flares as he draw in a heavy breath as he starts to move inside her. She relaxes her legs, keeping them loosely around him as they become futile at holding him. He really is big, the largest she has ever had and discomfort and pleasure mix for his first few strokes and she floods almost in defense. But, soon she writhes and undulates to match him, her legs tightening and relaxing to pull him to her. Her hands clutch at his flexing shoulders, her nails testing the hard shifting muscles under his skin. Her belly slides against his, silk on satin wrapped over steel. She can feel perspiration pop out onto her skin, the droplets combining and forming ticklish, wet rivulets that along her skin drawing strange and unfathomable patterns.
His lips find hers for short, intense kisses when they are not exploring the ski of her neck, throat and shoulders. She is too breathless to do more with her mouth than suck in air. Each time his body collides with hers the shockwave and resultant burst of delight drive the air from her with a soft cry. She clutched at the back of his head with a rough gasp as his lips latched onto her the nipple his fingers weren’t still stimulating. He sucks, nips and laps at the hard, sensitive little nub and she rolls her shoulder to feed more of her breast out of instinct and need as conscious thought is only a vague memory. His suckling lips sends sharp needles of lightning into her chest to join the sparks that make her spine twitch and arch and drive her nerves to overload.
The collisions occur faster and faster his hips unrelenting and demanding, along with the wet slap of skin surrounding them until she panting. He lances into her with masculine power, driving to her very centre like no other has. Pain and pleasure are indistinguishable as he pushes her to the limit of her endurance. Someone is whining, mewling and crying out and she is shocked and surprised to find out it was her as she starts to tremble with the electric energy building up inside her. His lips are no longer on her skin as he strains above her and she can see his teeth bared with feral concentration. His eyes burn with passion she would never have connected to him and a small part of her is mesmerized by her own reflection in them.
She can hardly keep up with him, her muscles and nerves sing with the exertion and flood of sensation. His face. The world around them becomes a confused blur as her head thrashes from side to side, her damp hair whipping her face and his chest. Her lungs burn with the desperate effort of processing air and her blood is pounding in her ears, but it doesn’t block out the way he says her name, two tantalizing, smoky, sultry syllables strung together with awe and adoration and repeated again and again. And, then everything freezes, for just the tiniest fraction of a moment she is at peace like she had never been before. The moment shatters in the violent surge of her climax, a blast of pure bliss that sets her body to shuddering, her sex to clenching spasming as it flooded and she can feel the scream of release bubbling up her throat as her eyes go wide and then… And then… she wakes up.
The first time, she had just dismissed it, thought it was just that she missed him, but after his return, it had only gotten worse. The daydreams had been even worse, because he’d been right there on both occasions, his earnest blue eyes staring at her, his voice calling her name when she’d snapped out of them and for a fleeting moment the dream and the reality had overlapped and she had almost given in to her desire. She’d covered with anger and sarcasm and found an excuse to storm off. He had to think she was insane or more insane than he already thought. Sometimes she theorized her subconscious was mixing her obsession with The Blur and her growing infatuation with Clark to create the dreams, but it didn’t quite ring true, the two were just too different. Thinking of Clark as a lover, definitely had its appeal, she just couldn’t understand the context and manner in which she did. “Do I want him to take me like that?” she wondered for the umpteenth time.
The echoes of her climax remained, but so does the tension of incomplete frustration. She groans and buries her face in her pillow. She lies perfectly still for a few moments and then she lets her hand steal downward. The cotton of her panties are as damp as her t-shirt, but not from perspiration as she peels it away from her skin to give her fingers access. Her folds are slick and swollen, her clit sensitive to the slightest touch as she slowly and knowledgeably explores herself. She closes her eyes and his face appears behind her eyelids unbidden, but it is not the face of her dreams, not the hungry demigod who possessed her so completely, it is the one she sees every day at the desk across from hers. Her other hand lightly caresses her breasts, barely touching her nipples, a sharp contrast to the mauling he gave her in her dream.
A soft smile curves her lips and the image of him mirrors the expression as she lets her fingers delve deeper, to the secret places she had discovered as a teenager while her thumb diddled the sensitive pearl of her clit. It takes a little while, even as revved up as she is, but eventually, she gasped and then squeaked against the pillow as her channel clenched and rippled around her stroking fingers and her toes curling, scraping along the sheets as her muscles lock and she drove herself to orgasm. It isn’t the knockout punch she imagined from her dream, but it does the job as she unwinds in slow degrees. Her heartbeat becomes normal and then along with her breathing slows as she stretches out. She is both grateful and fearful a she feels sleep start to overcome her and the last thing she sees before she drifts off to a thankfully dreamless sleep is Clark’s crooked smile become all too knowing for comfort and just a hint of the blazing hunger flare behind his eyes.
THE END