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Stand By Me 4
Well, in the honey moon phase of the story, ideas come fast and furious, don't they? Why can't it last all the way? *sigh* This time I swear I have an outline! And I've only changed it once so far! YaY!
Come little story, wave to the nice people!
Whitney gave her a little bouquet of flowers, and Clark rolled his eyes. How could she squeal over flowers she *had* to know he’d just yanked out of Nell’s flowerbeds? He sat next to her; they talked and held hands for a long time.
Clark yawned, pulled himself up to a sitting position to ease back through his bedroom window. It was late, and he wanted some time to read—oh. Whitney kissed Lana and Clark froze. Before he really thought about it, he *looked,* the way he wasn’t supposed to.
Looking was wrong, rude and mostly sinful but he couldn’t tear his eyes away—he drew in a sharp breath and forgot to release it.
Whitney held Lana’s head in his hands, they cradled her head and it looked gentle and his hands looked so large against her dark hair…
When her arms went around Whitney’s neck Clark let out the breath he’d been holding with a little gasp. Whitney’s hands shifted, one going to Lana’s waist, the other coming to rest over her breast—Clark shifted, feeling warm, feeling himself grow stiff. Sin. Everywhere. Lana was…it was wrong, what they were doing. She moved against Whitney and he could hear everything as if he were right there—Oh nuts, now my hearing has to go crazy…he couldn’t make it stop—he could hear her little moan and was instantly harder. He could hear the rustle of cotton—the slide of skin against skin. He couldn’t move now, not when Whitney had his hand under her dress, not while Whitney was licking her long smooth neck and he could hear it, little raspy laps against her trembling skin. Clark’s breath came faster. Oh--he had to move, or… Whitney’s breathing got louder, harsher, he almost felt the breath against his skin and the thought made him shiver and his eyes fluttered shut—when he opened them again, Whit was looking at him.
Clark jerked back, stopped when he remembered he was nowhere as close as it seemed. No! He can’t be—he can’t see me—impossible…but it felt like it, his eyes were open and he seemed to be looking Clark’s way. He kissed her and moved his hand under her dress and she gasped and he pulled her closer and opened the little pearl buttons running down the front of her dress, Clark could see him kiss her breast, he *saw* Whitney’s tongue slide over her dark rose nipple, he saw it tighten and her body shake, could see Whitney’s hand moving and her groans slipped past his ears as he locked eyes with Whitney and Lana cried out softly and fell limp in his arms. Clark was breathless and burning and hard—pinned to the roof by Whitney’s eyes.
Suddenly the spell broke and Clark scrambled backward into his open window. He dropped to the floor of his room and nearly cried, he was worse than sinful, worse than sinful-- what could he do—
He knelt by the side of his bed and prayed desperately for forgiveness but the scene kept playing over and over in his mind, and after a while he started praying for his hard on to go away
######
Chores went quickly that morning and school was same as always and then he was working on the banner and it felt exactly like the day before and Whitney came in.
“Clark. Have you seen Lana,” he asked and Clark shook his head no and kept his eyes away from him.
Whitney was right in front of him again. Like yesterday.
“Good”. What? Good? What…Whitney leaned close and put his finger on Clark’s lower lip and pressed gently.
“Sweet, I’ll bet you taste sweet like strawberries. Every time I see you I think of strawberries. Your lips…” He was so close that Clark could feel Whitney’s lips moving, brushing against his with each word, and warm breath puffed inside, and he felt himself rise. Oh no, oh no oh no…Whitney pushed down and Clark’s mouth opened and Whitney pressed his mouth to his.
Clark gasped and Whitney’s tongue swept in, so warm, so…clean tasting…he kissed him until Clark thought he’d pass out and then he leaned back.
“Mmm. Lemons. You taste like lemons, not strawberries,” he grinned at Clark and Clark fought to stay on his feet. He was so hot, he could hardly breath and if he was any harder, he’d –he—well, he didn’t know but it was edging on to pain and he wished his pants were off—oh god, I’m going to go to hell oh no Lord, I’m—Whit pressed his hot mouth against his ear and said, “Your mouth tastes like lemons, oranges…wonder what your come tastes like?”
Clark groaned and came, hot and hard, it wrenched out of him, frying his spine—it felt wonderful…
He jerked forward and smacked his head on the ceiling. His first thought was oh nuts, I’ve got to do my chores again! And his second thought made him drop down onto his bed. Whitney. Oh crap—I had a—a bad dream about Whitney. I’ m going to turn into a pillar of salt, oh my gosh—I’m going to hell--
It was horrible to wake up floating like that—at fourteen, the first time, he’d thought it was the Devil getting inside him. Maybe it wasbut still—a tiny, tiny voice in the back of his head whispered, it felt good, you know you want to dream it again. You know you want to kiss Whitney…
Ha! Tbc!
Come little story, wave to the nice people!
Whitney gave her a little bouquet of flowers, and Clark rolled his eyes. How could she squeal over flowers she *had* to know he’d just yanked out of Nell’s flowerbeds? He sat next to her; they talked and held hands for a long time.
Clark yawned, pulled himself up to a sitting position to ease back through his bedroom window. It was late, and he wanted some time to read—oh. Whitney kissed Lana and Clark froze. Before he really thought about it, he *looked,* the way he wasn’t supposed to.
Looking was wrong, rude and mostly sinful but he couldn’t tear his eyes away—he drew in a sharp breath and forgot to release it.
Whitney held Lana’s head in his hands, they cradled her head and it looked gentle and his hands looked so large against her dark hair…
When her arms went around Whitney’s neck Clark let out the breath he’d been holding with a little gasp. Whitney’s hands shifted, one going to Lana’s waist, the other coming to rest over her breast—Clark shifted, feeling warm, feeling himself grow stiff. Sin. Everywhere. Lana was…it was wrong, what they were doing. She moved against Whitney and he could hear everything as if he were right there—Oh nuts, now my hearing has to go crazy…he couldn’t make it stop—he could hear her little moan and was instantly harder. He could hear the rustle of cotton—the slide of skin against skin. He couldn’t move now, not when Whitney had his hand under her dress, not while Whitney was licking her long smooth neck and he could hear it, little raspy laps against her trembling skin. Clark’s breath came faster. Oh--he had to move, or… Whitney’s breathing got louder, harsher, he almost felt the breath against his skin and the thought made him shiver and his eyes fluttered shut—when he opened them again, Whit was looking at him.
Clark jerked back, stopped when he remembered he was nowhere as close as it seemed. No! He can’t be—he can’t see me—impossible…but it felt like it, his eyes were open and he seemed to be looking Clark’s way. He kissed her and moved his hand under her dress and she gasped and he pulled her closer and opened the little pearl buttons running down the front of her dress, Clark could see him kiss her breast, he *saw* Whitney’s tongue slide over her dark rose nipple, he saw it tighten and her body shake, could see Whitney’s hand moving and her groans slipped past his ears as he locked eyes with Whitney and Lana cried out softly and fell limp in his arms. Clark was breathless and burning and hard—pinned to the roof by Whitney’s eyes.
Suddenly the spell broke and Clark scrambled backward into his open window. He dropped to the floor of his room and nearly cried, he was worse than sinful, worse than sinful-- what could he do—
He knelt by the side of his bed and prayed desperately for forgiveness but the scene kept playing over and over in his mind, and after a while he started praying for his hard on to go away
######
Chores went quickly that morning and school was same as always and then he was working on the banner and it felt exactly like the day before and Whitney came in.
“Clark. Have you seen Lana,” he asked and Clark shook his head no and kept his eyes away from him.
Whitney was right in front of him again. Like yesterday.
“Good”. What? Good? What…Whitney leaned close and put his finger on Clark’s lower lip and pressed gently.
“Sweet, I’ll bet you taste sweet like strawberries. Every time I see you I think of strawberries. Your lips…” He was so close that Clark could feel Whitney’s lips moving, brushing against his with each word, and warm breath puffed inside, and he felt himself rise. Oh no, oh no oh no…Whitney pushed down and Clark’s mouth opened and Whitney pressed his mouth to his.
Clark gasped and Whitney’s tongue swept in, so warm, so…clean tasting…he kissed him until Clark thought he’d pass out and then he leaned back.
“Mmm. Lemons. You taste like lemons, not strawberries,” he grinned at Clark and Clark fought to stay on his feet. He was so hot, he could hardly breath and if he was any harder, he’d –he—well, he didn’t know but it was edging on to pain and he wished his pants were off—oh god, I’m going to go to hell oh no Lord, I’m—Whit pressed his hot mouth against his ear and said, “Your mouth tastes like lemons, oranges…wonder what your come tastes like?”
Clark groaned and came, hot and hard, it wrenched out of him, frying his spine—it felt wonderful…
He jerked forward and smacked his head on the ceiling. His first thought was oh nuts, I’ve got to do my chores again! And his second thought made him drop down onto his bed. Whitney. Oh crap—I had a—a bad dream about Whitney. I’ m going to turn into a pillar of salt, oh my gosh—I’m going to hell--
It was horrible to wake up floating like that—at fourteen, the first time, he’d thought it was the Devil getting inside him. Maybe it wasbut still—a tiny, tiny voice in the back of his head whispered, it felt good, you know you want to dream it again. You know you want to kiss Whitney…
Ha! Tbc!
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You made me read Clitney! (and wow does that pairing spelling make me laugh)
And I *liked* it.
O_o
And I want to read *more* Clitney (even if it's a dream).
o_O
Do I have to turn in my Clex membership card?
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I wonder if Whitney really was looking at Clark? Or looking in Clark's direction, anyway--thinking of Clark while he was spooning (canoodling?--which is the right word?) with Lana.
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(canoodling?--which is the right word?) with Lana.</>
Well, I like canoodling myself. I mean the word. You know what I mean.
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And I wonder what the preacher-man is going to look like, raising his arms to the skies in that white white suit . . .
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Oh, dude.
That is....
Poor, muddled up boy, all scared and desperate...
*pets him*
*shakes fist at all Xians and their weird ways!!*
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Ha ha! Hah! V. practical prayer, that. *EG*
This little bit was a hot one! The make out session and Clark's fantasy - Yum!
Though, I'm sad the "horrible" thing at fourteen was only floating. Don't you think tentacles would be way more demonic and sinful? ;P
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Naughty Tentacle!Fic girl.
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Hahaha! Like that would ever happen! It's pornpornporn 5 ways to Sunday with you! *EG* (Also: Yay!!)
Plus, why you be hatin on the tentacles?! For a fandom with an alien as it's main character, there should be way more green tentacles out there. *You* could be the pioneer to lead the way! I'm just trying to help here, Roxybabe.
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*glazed*
*pant-pant-pant*
*smooches you*
Re: *glazed*
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Love it!
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We aim to please!
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