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Dangerous Ground	By : QueenC4707 Category: Smallville > General Views: 6922 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Smallville, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Dangerous Ground
- 1
Dangerous Ground
The locker room was dark and deserted. Her heels clicked lightly against the concrete floor, echoing throughout the cool and sterile space. She was supposed to be in class now. She really shouldn't be here�which only made her want to be here all the more. The thrill was getting addictive--the delicious sense of excitement, the tingle of anticipation. Sometimes the anticipation was even more exciting than the act itself. The thought disturbed her mildly, but she pushed it away.
"Jason?" Lana called, peering down the row of lockers. No answer. But she heard a faint scuffling noise, like footsteps, and smiled to herself. He was probably trying to take her by surprise. Although Jason could be painfully dull at times, every now and then he put some effort into actual spontaneity. His ideas were usually half-baked and more than a little cheesy, but she appreciated the thought. He was so good to her. She could count on him. He was as dependable as Old Faithful, and certainly as predictable.
Never mind that sometimes it made her feel like screaming.
A sudden sound behind her caught her off-guard. She gasped, then snickered at her own silliness. "Quit trying to surprise me, Jason� I know it's you!" she declared, turning around. Her smile faded when saw nothing behind her but a row of lockers and a couple of benches. "Jason�" she said, an edge creeping into her voice, "Come on out now. Quit being stupid."
"It's not Jason," said a deep voice behind her.
Startled, Lana whirled around. The man she beheld stood tall and imposing, backlit by the sunlight filtering in through the high windows. The stark lighting emphasized his impossibly broad shoulders and muscular arms, and glinted off his unruly dark hair. She could not really see his face, since it was hidden in shadow, but she felt the sensation of his eyes on her as acutely as though they were physically touching.
And to her great dismay, she backed up a couple of steps. "Clark�" she mumbled. "What are you doing here?"
He stepped forward, emerging from the shadows and quickly closing the distance between them. "Well, it is the boys' locker room," he drawled, arching one of those ridiculously perfect eyebrows. "I should ask the same of you."
Lana gulped. "I, um� I�"
A corner of that full, sensuous mouth turned up slightly. But he merely waited, surveying her in barely-masked amusement as she fumbled for a plausible excuse. Which only served to increase Lana's consternation. Who was this person? He looked like Clark--same features, same face-- and yet, he wasn't. He had that look in his eye again, the one she'd seen only a few times before--most notably, when she'd traveled to Metropolis to find him and bring him home. That cool, collected, almost predatory look� as if he could see right through her. See all the darkest and dirtiest parts of her that she strove to keep hidden. The look that thrilled her as much as it frightened her.
"It's all right, Lana," Clark said. That voice, like warm honey. Slow and rich and sweet. Seductive. Deadly. "I know."
She felt her heart constrict. "How?"
"Oh, please." He shook his head, contempt mingling with the amusement in his green eyes. "You forget how well I know you, despite your attempts to pretend you don't know me. How long did you think you could hide the fact that you and my esteemed football coach are sneaking in here to screw in secret?"
Her mouth dropped open. How dare he!
"Gotta give you props for balls, but a major point deduction for originality," Clark continued nonchalantly. "I mean, any sugar daddy worth his weight in sexual harassment suits would find a better place for a rendezvous than a locker room on school grounds." He smirked. "Guess ole Jason's too cheap to spring for a motel?"
"What the [i]hell is your problem, Clark?" Lana demanded, anger momentarily eclipsing her chagrin.
He shrugged, reaching up to run his fingers through his tousled hair. As he did so, the red gemstone on his ring caught the light and glinted. "You're the one who kept preaching to me to be honest with you. Was that shot of truth too much for you?"
"What right do you have to come here and start preaching at me over nonexistent locker room sex!" Lana fired back.
Clark's eyebrows shot up. "So you admit sex never happened."
"Yes--I mean, no!" Resentment echoed through her at the effortless way he managed to completely discombobulate her. "What Jason and I do is none of your business!"
"Perhaps not, but it is the business of the school board."
She gaped. "You wouldn't dare!"
"Why not?" Clark countered. "I remember some little blurb in our student handbook that any fraternizing between faculty and students is strictly prohibited."
Fury sparked in Lana's jade-green eyes. "You are such an asshole."
He shrugged. "I try."
He started to brush past her, but she quickly stepped in front of him. "Is this some twisted form of revenge?"
"Revenge for what?"
"For my going off to Paris. For dumping you, basically."
Anger flared in his green eyes, but he quickly tamped it down. "Ahh, I should've known. One thing that's remained consistent about you is your inflated sense of your own importance."
She couldn't believe his nerve! "My inflated sense of importance?" she demanded. "You're the one with more secrets than the CIA! What can you be hiding that is so damned important, anyway?"
"It's always gonna come down to that, isn't it?" Clark retorted. "I've got all my deep dark secrets but Jason, he's a regular open book. He tells you every little thing about his life, doesn't he?"
Lana's chin jutted out in defiance. "That's right."
"Yes, I'm sure you have nice, long, soul-searching talks between trysts in the locker room."
Her eyes narrowed. "What's your point?"
Clark just shook his head. "You're a piece of work, Lana. Don't even try to pass this off as anything deeper than what it is. You think you want a good ol' dependable Whitney clone, but it's not enough. Sure, he's got his overblown romantic gestures and lines worthy of a daytime soap, but where's the fun in that? The lies, the secrecy, the sneaking around� that's what keeps you coming back. You get off on it."
Lana backed away, glaring contemptuously at him. "I don't need to waste my time on this bullshit."
"Tell me I'm wrong." Clark stepped in front of her, blocking her path. "Tell me you'd be just as happy with him if he was just another student."
"This whole discussion pointless," she said, backing away further. She felt her feet bump up against a locker and cursed inwardly.
"It's not enough, is it?" Clark continued, leaning in closer to her, forcing her to lean back until the cool steel locker door pressed against her back. "You think he has everything you want� but he never will. Not even close. Truth is, what you want is something he can never give you."
She gulped, more unnerved by his closeness than she cared to admit. "You're out of line."
"I don't see you stopping me."
"Back away now," she warned, "or I'll scream."
To her dismay, Clark just smirked. "He can't make you scream, can he?"
That did it. Before she could stop herself her hand flew up and slapped him, right across that obnoxiously handsome face of his.
He reeled backward, raising a hand to his stinging cheek. To her shock, he smiled. "Nice! Glad to see that fire hasn't left you, Lana."
"Go to hell!" she spat, glaring fiercely at him.
He stood in front of her, held out his arms. "By all means, don't stop there," he taunted. "Take your best shot. I know you've been workin' those self-defense moves Lex taught you� let it out, Lana. Kick my ass."
Ohhh, it was tempting. Seeing him standing there, that mocking look in his eyes, that smirk across his face she wanted so badly to wipe off with her 7 �s. But no. He knew as well as she did there was no way she'd ever take him in a fight, but she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of rising to the challenge.
"I don't know what game you're playing but I've had enough," she declared. "I am through. God, I wish I never came back. I wish I never had to see you again!"
"Be careful what you wish for, Lana," Clark warned. "You might just get it."
She scowled, tried to brush past him. He grabbed her arm before she could make her getaway. She spun around, ready to unleash all manner of vile cuss words at him, but before she could react he had her pinned against him while his mouth came down on hers in a brutal, forceful kiss that completely robbed the breath from her.
Her hands clawed at his black shirt as she instinctively struggled against him. But as his mouth brushed against hers she found her resolve rapidly giving way to the wave of heated sensation washing over her. Her hands slid from his chest up to his shoulders, which she gripped tightly as her knees unexpectedly weakened beneath her. His mouth devoured hers, leaving her no choice but to open for him, which to her horror she did willingly. As his tongue swept inside and tangled with hers, sensations shot through her so achingly familiar, yet so shockingly foreign, that all she could she could do was clamor for more of them.
Lana felt her back bump up against the locker as they continued to kiss, and she was no more able to stop him than she was able to resist. God, what was happening to her? She was so sure Clark was out of her system for good, especially with him acting like such a supreme asshole, and yet�nothing ever felt this way before. She had never felt such wild abandon, such desperate longing, coupled with the illuminating realization that he was the only drug for an ailment she never knew she had.
"Tell me to stop, Lana," Clark whispered against her mouth. "I dare you."
She wanted to. Every part of her mind was screaming at her to stop, and yet� "No."
He flashed at deliciously maddening smirk. "No," he repeated, slowly.
"I don't want you to stop," she whispered back, hoping her voice didn't sound as plaintive as she felt. That was all the encouragement he needed. His lips found hers with the same crushing force as before, sending her reeling back against the locker again, but she barely felt the impact. Her hands slid up under his shirt, caressing his back, marveling at the rippling muscle beneath her fingertips. He towered above her, so tall and so very male� Jason seemed like a skinny kid in comparison. Although at the moment, Jason was the farthest thing from her mind.
Lana closed her eyes, a faint sigh issuing from her lips as her head fell to the side. Clark brushed her hair aside to kiss her neck, his lips burning her skin like the brand on her lower back as they blazed a trail down to her throat. His hands were everywhere, on her hips and her stomach, sliding over her shirt and then under it, sending chills racing through her like nothing Jason ever made her feel. Not by a long shot. She couldn't hold back the soft moan as Clark's hand came up to cup her breast, his thumb tracing her nipple and causing it to tighten instantly against the thin layer of lace that covered it. She arched against him, aching for more, unaware of what her movements were doing to him. The tight black shirt she wore frustrated him, as it restricted his movements. The next sound Lana heard was the sharp rip of material before the two pieces of her top fell to the floor.
She gazed at him with wide eyes, his own eyes dark with heat and desire. Without hesitation she reached up to unbutton his shirt, her clumsy fingers unable to accomplish the task fast enough for his satisfaction. Finally she yanked the shirt open, buttons popping and bouncing off the locker room floor. Her eyes drank in his lean, muscular torso, from his sinewy chest to his rippling abs, down to where they disappeared under the waistline of his jeans. God, he was so beautiful� damn him.
And then she pulled herself against him while his hands came up to yank the clip from her hair, letting the silken mass tumble around her bare shoulders. Her own hands buried themselves in his hair as his lips brushed against hers, at turns harsh and gentle, yet always so effortlessly seductive. She was dimly aware of her bra being unfastened, and then joining her top on the floor, and then his hands sliding down her back to cup her bottom. Her breasts brushed against his chest as she felt his growing arousal press against her, painfully obvious through the layers of denim separating them. Her body seemed to move instinctively, her hips arching toward him and moving in tandem with his. She was aware that the situation was rapidly slipping out of her control, and yet, she didn't want to stop. In fact, she relished the loss of control� the incredible exhilaration. Wanted more of it. Craved it. Needed it.
Clark's hand eased under her skirt, forged a burning path along her inner thigh. His breath fanned her ear as he whispered, "You want me, Lana. I can feel how much."
She gasped as his hand slid into the apex of her thighs where she burned so sweetly. So urgently. His fingers traced a tantalizing path over the thin lace barrier of her underwear, making her writhe and twitch against him. Her hips bucked involuntary, her body arching toward him in an eloquent plea for more.
"Clark�" she breathed. "Oh, please�"
"Please what?" he whispered back, not missing a beat in his exquisite torture.
"Feels so good�" was all she could manage, eyes sliding closed as her breath came in short, shallow puffs.
"You need me, Lana," Clark whispered back. "You crave me� and no one and nothing will change that."
Her only response was a whimper as he stroked and teased her, his fingers sliding under the thin damp lace to caress her bare skin. The intensity of the feeling surged through her like electricity, igniting something deep inside of her that she'd never known existed. Something fierce, something primal, something all-consuming. His fingers eased inside of her, stroking deeply, while his thumb worked the delicate pearl of flesh that was the center of her desire. Meanwhile, his free hand came up to fondle her breasts while his lips rained white-hot kisses along the graceful curve of her neck and shoulder. She could not muffle the cry that tore from her throat as she bucked and shuddered above him, her body as taut and tense as a string about to snap. "Oh God� Clark� I'm almost there�" she rasped.
And then was when he pulled his hand away.
Lana could not bite back the cry of protest at his action, which only served to encourage the smug glint in his eyes. Then she gasped in surprise as he quickly, effortlessly hoisted her up, her legs wrapping his hips as he carried her over to the showers.
He turned on the water and without speaking, began to unbutton his jeans. She could only watch, entranced, as he slid them past his narrow hips, over his powerful and muscular legs until he stepped out of them and tossed them on a bench. His boxers soon followed, and she could not hold back her gasp at the sight of him. He was enlarged and fully erect, pointing upward toward his flat and rippled stomach.
He arched an eyebrow. "Impressed?"
She swallowed. "Umm� you're not Jason."
He simply gave that ungodly sexy smirk of his then turned and stepped into the shower stall. Lana hesitated only a second before stepping out of her skirt and underwear at the same time. Naked, she stepped into Clark's arms under the steaming spray of the shower. Hands caressed damp slick skin as they kissed, and any memories Lana held of her first experience with Jason evaporated like steam in the air. Her senses were filled with Clark--his scent, his lips, his touch--what he'd said back at the lockers was absolutely right. He was in her blood, and no time, distance, or other guy would ever be able to change that. She had no idea what had come over him to make him approach her this way, but she was too far gone to question it. She just wanted him, wanted the only thing that would sate the irresistible need.
Her gasp was swallowed by his mouth as he backed her against the wall, the contrast of the cool porcelain and the heat of the water and of Clark's body sending a delicious chill rocketing all through her. Lana was caught off-guard by his effortless strength as he hoisted her up, gripping her bottom as his heavy thigh wedged her legs apart. She gripped his shoulders and wrapped her legs around his waist as he positioned her above his erection. He hesitated briefly before easing her down on top of him, and their eyes locked. Green eyes held green eyes as he slowly filled her, inch by inch, the exquisite agony of the sensation eliciting a low moan from deep in her throat. She was unprepared for the intensity of the feeling, the way he stretched her to the limit; and yet, she still could not seem to fully accommodate him.
"Relax," he whispered in her ear. "I'll take it slow."
"I don't want it slow," she whispered back. "Don't you dare be gentle."
He merely smiled, capturing her lips in a deep, incendiary kiss. His tongue invaded her mouth as he eased further inside of her, until he was buried to the hilt in her slick warmth. Her insides rippled around him, throbbing with a burning ache that nearly overwhelmed her. Her head fell back against the cool tile as he began to thrust, in and out, slow and deep, filling her so deeply, so thoroughly, she almost felt as if she were about to burst. Beads of sweat mingled with water as the shower rained down upon them, the hiss of the pipes muffling her cries as he drove into her again and again.
Her fingernails dug into his shoulders with each hot surge of pleasure/pain, searing and shocking, burning and all-consuming. It was too much, too much� her mouth dropped open to release a sound but her voice was hollow as the overwhelming sensations crashed over her. He was bringing her to the verge now, winding tighter, rising higher... her muscles tightening around his girth, bringing her closer with each glorious thrust. Clark felt her tight channel begin to ripple and contract. She was trying to pull him tighter around him, she was close, so close now. He watched with satisfaction as she worked for it. Her nails attempted to thrash at the skin of his shoulders as she suddenly screamed his name... her muscles tightening around him, rippling, pulsing, as her body bowed under the strain of imminent release.
The rhythm of his thrusts increased, driving her back into the wall, her flushed skin sliding against the cool surface while her head fell back and her lips formed an incoherent cry. He was pushing her to the very edge of sanity, and she was seconds from losing all semblance of control. Bolts of heat shot out from her core where it rubbed against him, intensifying the pleasure. He trust into her hard, finally driving her over the edge in an explosion of sensation so powerful it left her wimpering, swearing, praying, fingers raking into her shoulders while her legs locked around him in a viselike grip.
He was on the verge, too; she felt it in the way his body seemed to stiffen and seize. And yet he continued to drive relentlessly into her, jaw clenched tight as he strove to delay his own pleasure as to bring her even more. She shuddered and jerked above him as a second climax wracked her body, the aftershocks of pleasure still gripping her as he finally allowed his own release and expelled his heat inside of her.
Lana collapsed against him, breathing heavily, her head resting against his damp hair while he idly caressed her slick and smooth back. His fingers grazed her tattoo; and she flinched inwardly at the realization that it was indeed possible that Clark would see it. But now, it was the least of her concerns. Still weakened by the intensity of her orgasm, she could barely think straight, let alone move. It didn't even occur to her to think of how strong Clark was, how easily he lifted her and how easily he was holding her up now, when the evidence suggested his climax was every bit as powerful--and exhausting--as her own.
After a moment he gradually eased her to the floor, although he did not release her from his arms. Neither of them spoke as they both caught their breath and relaxed under the steaming spray of the shower. Perhaps because of the noise, neither of them noticed the sound of footsteps until they were almost upon them.
Panicked, Lana quickly pulled away from Clark. She gazed up at him with round eyes as a sickeningly familiar voice called, "Lana, are you here?"
"Oh, no!" she whispered, hastily extracting herself from Clark's arms and running to retrieve her clothes. Clark was much more leisurely, turning off the shower and striding out of the stall as if he hadn't a care in the world. It was all she could do not to stare at him, appalled. Meanwhile, the footsteps drew closer as Jason said, "Is someone here?"
"Oh, shit!" Lana cursed, realizing that half her clothes had been left by the lockers, where Clark had literally ripped them off of her. Her worst fears were confirmed to find her top completely ruined, torn clean in half. "Clark!" she exclaimed, scowling, waiting for him to get her out of this. But as she ducked out from behind the lockers clad only in her bra and skirt, he was nowhere to be found. That was the fastest she'd ever seen anyone get dressed and split. In fact, it defied all physical possibility!
"What the�" She was still standing there, scowling, when Jason materialized behind her.
"Lana, there you are! What's going on? Why are you all wet?"
"Oh!" she whirled around, startled, wondering how she was going to explain why she was soaked and clutching the two pieces of a top Clark had ripped off of her in a fit of passion. "I, um, just got out of the shower."
Jason frowned. "In here?"
"Well, you know, umm� I wanted to surprise you," she blurted out. "But you were late, and I gave up."
His frown quickly melted into a simpering smile, and for the first time Lana was actually thankful Jason was not exactly the brightest bulb in the room. "Hmm, so you wanted some shower action, huh?"
He moved closer to her, wrapped his arms around her waist and nuzzled her neck. Lana tried to smile although inside, she felt ill. Lord, she had actually let this clod put his hands all over her? "I, um, I have to go," she muttered, dodging away.
Jason looked crestfallen. "But� the shower action�"
"Yeah, well, I got stuff to do and you were late," she said with an awkward smile, hastily grabbing a towel and wrapping it around herself. "I'll see you later, K?"
"Okay�" With a confused and rather pouty look that reminded Lana more than ever of a little boy who didn't get the candy he wanted, Jason watched as she hastily strode out of the locker room. At least he hadn't questioned her about her top, although he was probably thinking about it right now. But then, Jason was pretty darned obtuse. She could bullshit him about her locker room tryst, just like she made up that bullshit story about getting the tattoo on a whim in Paris.
But the one thing she couldn't make up was an explanation for the way Clark made her feel� or the fact that she very much wanted to feel that way again. That her body still tingled and burned at the mere thought of the things she'd let him do to her.
She wanted him to do them again.
- 1
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Dangerous Ground