dovelike | [AU] SV Futureverse

Entry tags:

au,
clark kent

[AU] SV Futureverse

Metropolis Children's Hospital

Days like today are what keep Eirene coming back to this small hospital in the middle of Kansas. Watching a thirteen year old with once-inoperable pancreatic cancer walk down the hallway to her parents, who are standing with the resident cancer specialist and trying to figure out what happened.

Eirene knows and she glances down at her hands with a faint smile.Miracles. One 'twenty year old' volunteer can do more in the weekend mornings she volunteers than the vicious decease still trying to kill a host of other kids on this floor. If she's lucky, she can save another life today, but her energy reserves haven't been replenished by rest in the last few days.

She's settled into a booth at the corner diner not half an hour later, sipping an herbal tea and flipping through the Planet for anything out of the ordinary. For the curious: she looks like any other college student; a Met U sweater, jeans and Birkenstocks.

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"It's pretty close," he agrees quietly. Not that randomly bumping into her at a diner in Metropolis was on any list he ever came up with of how their first meeting would go, but he'll take it. So long as he has her here, it is, as she says, perfect.

Eirene would probably be interested to see that list, mainly because she's got one of her own, but most of the scenarios involved the Bar, and maybe being set up by Chloe. Or Riley. Or both. Maybe even AC, the goob.

It takes another minute or two before she plants a kiss on his nose this time, content to go slowly.

Slowly is probably the wisest course of action, given the situation. We'll see how long it actually lasts, though.

For now, he'll let her take her time getting back to his mouth.

She does eventually get there, after detours to his forehead and both cheeks, scooting just a little bit closer before nudging his lips open with hers.

Needless to say, if she's going to invade, it will be a thorough exploration of his tongue and mouth.

Clark doesn't seem to have a problem with that. In fact, he's going to be as helpful as possible for her exploration and when she's done, he may just start a subtle invasion of his own.

Eirene wouldn't even think of protesting his own incursion, tilting her head slightly to slant her mouth easier against his. It's her hands Clark has to watch out for.

They're making explorations of their own down his sides and pressing against the part of his back that isn't buttressed against the couch.

Clark has missed those hands, small and warm and stronger than they look. But he's not exactly used to them anymore, or to being touched at all really, beyond friendly hugs, so she'll have to forgive the small whimper that escapes him.

Predictably, they freeze, the pads of her fingers resting just an inch above the hem of his shirt. When Eirene has determined that she didn't hurt him, and he's not trying to get away from her, they finish moving down to graze against his skin.

"Let me know when you want me to stop," she whispers against his mouth.

"No, I'm okay." Despite the tensing of his muscles where her hands meet his skin. It barely lasts a few seconds and he relaxes again, his own hands starting to move slowly over her back in response.

They move away after a moment in silent apology for startling him, and slide back up his back until the cushions won't let them go further. It's an amusing things, perhaps, that her heartbeat has already quickened, and her breathing is shallowing out.

But such is the way Clark affects her, especially after five years.

It's a matter of body over mind, unfortunately. His mind is ready for this - hell, he's thought about it enough, especially recently being back among the living again, so to speak - but his body? Is still readjusting to not being surrounded by ice cold, sterile conditions, where he was the only living thing around for miles.

Clark is trying his best to get it to be mind over body, honestly.

To aid in that, maybe it's time to try this from another angle and he slips a hand under the hem of her shirt, tracing it flat along the skin of her back.

Eirene does understand, or would, if she was aware of his body's protestations. Maybe she is, subconciously, and that's why she isn't trying to rush things. As it is, her muscles contract under his palm, both pressing against Clark's hand and his chest simultaneously.

She's trying very hard not to wriggle, but that's a near impossible thing to ask when she's in her boyfriend's lap at it's only been a few weeks parting instead of as long as it's been.

"If you're not ready," Another break to inhale oxygen between kisses, "then I won't rush you." Now if she could just cajole her body into agreeing.

"I'm okay," he repeats, giving her what he hopes is a reassuring smile before he kisses her quickly again.

"I mean, this isn't exactly how I was planning on my day ending up when I got up this morning, but I'm not going to complain." His hand skates further up her back, while the other slides up to join it.

"Besides, how will I ever know if I am ready if I don't try?"

There a sharp inhale, lungs expanding at the added contact, "Clark..." Oh, well that just shorted out something. Hips twitch once, escaping her determination to keep still (which is unraveling rapidly just being near him).

"That sounds adventerous." Each word is punctuated by a kiss, the last moving away from Clark's mouth to travel along his jawline.

"Well, there's nothing to be afraid of, right?" He asks softly, tilting his head to the side, his eyes closing and his fingers digging gently into her skin.

"Mmmhmm," is his only response, as Eirene's lips are too busy remembering just how the curve of his jaw feels under her mouth, and then the warmth of his throat.

Eventually, muttered just over his pulse: "Gods, you taste better than I remembered."

That earns a soft breath of amusement, but not an outright laugh. Gods forbid he disturb what she's doing.

"So do you," he says softly. "Feel better, too." That's punctuated by him drawing his hands down the length of her back to settle on her rear, tugging her more firmly against him.

Well, he's just going to make her squirm against him, the heat from his torso slowly spreading into hers wherever they touch. Lips resume their downward trek. teeth grazing against Clark's skin. Until they encounter cotton.

Huh.

"Houston, we have a problem...."

"Problem?" He glances down at her, genuinely perplexed. It seems the pop culture reference has gone right over his head, although there may be a small part of his brain that files it away as one that is, apparently, still in use.

"What problem?" Clark sees (nor feels) no problem.

"You're wearing a shirt." There's a long suffering sigh. "Sadly, I cannot continue to kiss further than your neck. I am grieved."

Really, she is. There are goddess puppy eyes involved!

Oh. That problem.

He quirks an eyebrow at her and then pushes away from the couch, settling them a few inches away, keeping her in his lap, but a bit further down on his thighs. "That help any?"

"It does. I have a considerate boyfriend. Should probably thank him with a kiss." She does. Of course, it's not a lingering kiss, because there is the shirt to contend with. After three whole seconds of careful study, Eirene tries something ... new.

She reaches out, grasps material securely in both hands, and shreds his shirt into enough pieces to just slide off.

"There."

The goddess dips her head after a moment to flick her tongue just below his collarbone.

Yeah, Clark's just going to stare at her a little speechless for a good few minutes.

And then the feel of her tongue on his skin will at least startle him back to breathing again. Enough to manage to say, "You still have yours."

Eirene flashes an entirely too innocent smile up at him, and pretends to consider his not-quite request for a few moments, during which she continues to lavish well-deserved attention on the warm skin about four inches below his neck.

When she hears his breathing begin to stagger, the blonde takes a little pity on him (but not too much) and leans back with her arms moving away from his sides. "Have at it, then."

It's not like he hasn't seen her with a tank top before.

Clark will just tilt his head back and enjoy this for a minute or two, until she pulls back and he refocusses his attention on her. As much as he can, anyway.

Have at? Oh, right. Her shirt. Clark will be courteous, however, and simply pull it up over her her body leaving it in one piece. After all, she doesn't live here and there's no way he's sending her back to some Motel 6 ... whenever she leaves shirtless.

And yes, he's seen her in a tank top. But not int he last five years, so again, she'll have to forgive him for staring, and running his hands up her arms and along her shoulders.

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