Clark is close. Too close.

He has that look on his face again, the one that makes your stomach flip. His knee brushes against yours, hands resting on his thighs like he’s trying so hard to be casual, but there’s nothing casual about the way he’s looking at you. It nearly feels like you might just get burned — good thing he can control his heat vision now.

“You know I want you, right?”

Your breath catches “you… don’t”

Clark blinks at your response “what?”

You shake your head, heart pounding “you don’t want me.” You say it softly, like maybe if you say it first, it won’t hurt as much when he realizes it himself. “Not really.”

For a second, he just stares at you.

“Oh, you have to be kidding me.”

Before you can react, he groans, dragging a hand down his face like he cannot believe what he’s hearing — he refuses to believe it. Then he’s leaning in even closer, his voice dropping, all soft and serious and so full of want that it makes your skin burn.

“Are you actually trying to tell me I don’t want you?” He scoffs, shaking his head. “God, do you have any idea how much I think about you? How much I want to be near you? How I sit around aching for any excuse to touch you, to hold you, to—”

He stops himself, inhaling sharply, like he’s barely holding himself together.

“No” he says, firmer now. “You don’t get to tell me what I feel. You don’t get to tell me I don’t want you when I have spent so long wanting only you.”

Your breath is shaky “you…”

“Yes” he interrupts, like he already knows what you’re about to say. He leans in so close now, his voice barely above a whisper. “I want you. I want you when you’re here, when you’re not, when you won’t even look at me because you think I don’t mean it. But I do. And I’ll keep wanting you, no matter how long it takes for you to believe it.”