Lois & Clark Forums Forums Fan Fiction Lois & Clark Fanfic Wrong Clark (228/???)

Wrong Place, Wrong Time, Wrong Clark TOC can be found Here

If you’ve forgotten what’s happened since the last part, you can check out Part 227 or you can sneak over yonder and see more detail in Part 227B
Part 228

Clark was finding it difficult to keep his feet on the floor, both figuratively and literally.

Had he known that the key to his happiness was making Lois happy, he certainly would’ve made other choices since arriving in this dimension. He would’ve told her about Lana earlier. He wouldn’t have lived his life so scared of her reaction to his past. As it was, his life felt perfect and he wasn’t complaining. He knew it wouldn’t last, but he’d take all the moments he could and store ‘em up for when he could feel a drought coming on.

Lois had fallen asleep snuggled up against his chest. He couldn’t remember the last time he had slept a night through without nary a nightmare or scream for help. Thankfully, last night was one of them.

Clark took hold of the coffee pot and paused as he relived every sound she had made, every touch of her skin, every taste of her, and the perfume of her sweat.

Many times in his life, he had thought he might die drowning in the unbearable odor of other people’s sweat. Back when he had been a teenager, before he learned to deal with mind over matter, it had been especially bad.

He had never realized how wrong he had been, or how pleasant a woman could smell. Lois’s sweat was sweet and salty and…

His eyes flashed open to find Jonathan in the kitchen doorway staring at him with a knowing grin. “Merry Christmas, Jerome.”

Clark flushed and he pulling out the full pot of coffee from the machine. He filled up a mug for each of them. “Merry Christmas, Dad.”

“Sleep well?” Jonathan asked, rolling into the kitchen. There was a slight laugh to his voice and his eyes glowed with mirth.

“Best night ever!” Clark replied, turning towards the counter and grimacing. Must he be so obvious?

“I noticed you didn’t sleep in your bed last night,” Jonathan said, taking a mug off the counter next to Clark.

Startled, Clark swung around to face him. A thousand questions buzzing in his head, but only one emerged. “How?” he sputtered. Jonathan hadn’t been upstairs since before his accident.

Jonathan chuckled and took a sip of his coffee. “The floor in your bedroom creaks above our room. I heard you come in, after your shower this morning, but I never heard you leave for the bathroom.”

“I could’ve floated, so I didn’t wake you,” Clark said, leaning casually against the counter.

Jonathan laughed slightly louder. “Plus, the guilt is written across your face.”

Clark glanced into his coffee while shading his face with his hand.

Busted!

“Do you have anything to feel guilty about?” Jonathan continued.

Clark beamed proudly. “Not in the least.” Well, maybe for using the Kents’ farmhouse as his and Lois’s love shack.

He set down his mug and pulled his winter coat from the back of the chair to hang it back on the hook beside the backdoor. He had been so preoccupied with thoughts of Lois when he had come in, he had forgotten to hang it up.

“Martha appreciates you feeding the animals.”

“I like doing things for you.” Clark was doing everything in his power to convince himself not to spend the day in bed with his girlfriend, exploring every inch of her skin. It made him feel like a pinball machine on the inside, his physical desire battling his emotional need to spend Christmas with the Kents. He hoped it wasn’t too obvious on the outside.

“And we appreciate it. Sit down, son.” As Clark pulled out a chair, Jonathan asked, “Where’s Lois, anyway?”

Clark tilted his head and listened. He could hear Lois digging around in her suitcase, swearing to herself. “In the bedroom, getting ready for her shower.”

He focused his concentration on Jonathan’s heartbeat, so as not to invade Lois’s privacy any more. He knew after their make-out fest last night, he could easily become sidetracked from his conversation with Jonathan. He had already been distracted when passing grain to the pigs and chickens, and couldn’t recall how much he had fed them. Then again, when he was scooping coffee into the pot. He hoped it wasn’t too strong.

This Jonathan’s heart sounded so similar to Clark’s father’s, he was reminded of all the wonderful Christmases of his youth. He smiled and lifted his mug to his mouth. Okay, the coffee was a tad strong, but thankfully, Jonathan hadn’t said anything.

“Good!” Jonathan whispered conspiratorially, leaning forward. “So?”

“So?” Clark repeated, confused.

“Did she say ‘yes’?” Jonathan asked.

“We’re here, aren’t we?” Clark spoke slowly, having no idea to what the elder Kent was referring.

“You haven’t asked her to marry you, yet?” Jonathan returned. “Martha and I were sure after you were shot…” His voice faded.

Clark took a swallow of his coffee. “I did. Last April. Lois said ‘no’ in no uncertain terms.” Not maybe. Not later. No.

“That was almost a year ago.”

Almost nine months ago, to be exact. “Yes.”

“Things have changed. You have. She has. The world has. She was in love with you when you came during the Corn Festival last year, and she loves you even more now,” Jonathan went on. “What are you waiting for?”

“First of all, Lois hated me during the whole Corn Festival, Bureau 39, Kryptonite fiasco, last year, and for good reason. Secondly, Lois doesn’t want to be married. She doesn’t believe in it, because her folks’ marriage was such a failure. She’s told me so hundreds of times. If she changes her mind, she’ll let me know,” Clark said, raising his hand to signal the end of the discussion. “I’m not asking her again until she’s ready.”

Jonathan added a teaspoon of sugar and took another sip of coffee, before asking, “How will you know she’s ready?”

That was a very good question. One to which Clark didn’t have an answer.

“Do you think she’ll just tell you it’s time?” Jonathan shook his head in disbelief. “Or do you believe, because she turned you down once, that it’s her turn to ask you?”

Clark recalled Lois mocking him because it had been Lana’s idea for him to propose. No, she wouldn’t propose to him. She would force him go through it again. She’d be right. He had never properly asked a woman marry him. Lois deserved that much.

Jonathan glanced over his shoulder towards his bedroom and lowered his voice, “Do you know how many times I asked Martha before she said ‘yes’?”

“Four times, wasn’t it?” Clark answered hesitantly. Jonathan had told him back in April after Lois rejected his first proposal, but Clark had to admit his head had been swimming that day and he hadn’t paid as close attention to their conversation as he normally would have.

Jonathan scowled and mumbled, “Three!”

“Three?” Clark sputtered. Hadn’t Martha said four? Or had it been five?

Jonathan sighed and nodded his head. “Those were dark days.”

Clark’s shoulders slumped. He couldn’t imagine his heart shattering two more times before Lois said ‘yes’, let alone four. Once was bad enough. “How?” His head shook incredulously. “How?”

“She wasn’t ready. I loved her from the first moment I laid eyes on her, who wouldn’t? Me, I took a little longer to get used to. Martha didn’t know if she wanted to move to Smallville or even stay in Kansas, let alone be a farmer’s wife. She loved me; of that I had no doubts, but was it a forever kind of love?” Jonathan shrugged. He took another sip of coffee and added another spoonful of sugar. “Luckily, she came around eventually.” He snickered. “Said it had something to do with me plowing snow-covered fields every time she said, ‘no’.” He glanced over his shoulder out the doorway again, covered his mouth, and murmured, “By the way, if Martha asks, remind her it was ‘three’.”

Clark nodded and patted Jonathan’s arm sympathetically.

“Christmas is a great time to get engaged,” Jonathan hinted.

“No.” Clark shook his head. “If Lois rejected me again, especially on Christmas…” It would taint his favorite holiday.

Jonathan nudged him. “New Year’s Eve is right around the corner.”

It would ruin Clark’s whole new year. Clark shook his head. “No.”

“Valentine’s Day?” Jonathan suggested weakly.

Clark and Lana were supposed to be married on Valentine’s Day. “Never!”

Jonathan raised his hand in defeat. “Fine. I’ll let you handle it. Let me just remind you that she can’t say ‘yes’, if you never ask her.”

“She can’t say ‘no’ either,” Clark mumbled.

*

Lois stood at the top of the stairs, unable to believe that Clark hadn’t sensed her during his entire conversation with Jonathan.

Marriage had been the last thing on her mind as she had practically floated around the room this morning. Clark had zipped off, after a good-morning kiss, to shower and feed the animals. She had gotten up and showered while he was in the barn. If they had been in Tahiti…

She almost sighed but caught herself before Clark could hear her. If they had been in Tahiti, Clark would be missing the snow. Last year, he had been like a boy experiencing Christmas for the first time. The trees! The lights! The displays! The giving! The snow! The parties. Cat’s family Christmas party! How had she forgotten about that?

Granted, it had been his first Christmas, but Clark had fallen in love with the holiday at first sight. He loved everything about it and it had made her love him more. He had this childlike wonder about him. It was one of the things she loved most about Clark.

But marriage?

Last night had been amazing, simply amazing. She wished she could rewind the tape and experience it repeatedly. She hadn’t known that she could feel anything close to that. She even felt somewhat bad for falling right to sleep and not reciprocating. Good thing Clark wasn’t the selfish sort.

If he had learned all that from reading some books…

Lois fanned herself.

Who knew reading was so erotic?

Okay, she did. She was a writer after all. However, that was beside the point.

What had been her point again?

If Clark found the courage to ask her to marry him, what would she say?

Her mind went blank.

Her heart started to race.

She had no idea.

Marriage had always been such a frightening prospect. She could never see the benefits for a woman.

Until she met Clark.

Until last night…

She fanned herself again.

Clearly, she didn’t need marriage to experience what she and Clark had last night.

True that due to his vow, she couldn’t experience all Clark had to offer, at least when he had his head screwed on right, without them becoming married. She had thought about convincing him that marriage wasn’t necessary, or to inch him leisurely towards that intimacy line until he begged her to cross it without being married. After last night, she knew she couldn’t… shouldn’t manipulate him like that. He’d end up hating her more than Lana.

Clark had proven to her that they didn’t need to have sex for him to please her. Did she still need to go all the way to have a fulfilling lifelong relationship with him?

Hell, yeah!

Did she need him to make a vow that he would forsake all others for her?

No. Clark would never cheat on her, and not only because he knew Lois could and would ruin him to within an inch of his life… okay, a centimeter, if he ever did cheat on her. She just couldn’t see him doing that. He thought more of the happiness of others than his own pleasures.

Lois smiled. She still owed him back for last night.

This system couldn’t last, though. They would have to find some way to both end up happy at the same time.

Her mind drifted off into imagination land, and she ended up fanning herself again.

Perhaps she shouldn’t have worn this sweater. She tugged at her turtleneck.

She reviewed the other marriage vows in her mind.

Clark already respected those rules, whether Lois said ‘yes’ or not. How would stating those rules aloud and signing a paper change any of that?

It would mean that they would go all the way.

Lois rubbed her forehead.

What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she get making love to Clark off her brain? She sounded obsessed, even for her, which was saying a lot. What she needed was a deep snowdrift into which she could dive, so she could think about this logically and with a cool head.

The scent of coffee and chocolate drifted up the stairs and made Lois’s stomach growl.

Maybe after breakfast.

She met Clark halfway down the stairs. He was headed upstairs.

“I thought that was you,” he murmured as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed a kiss to his mouth.

With a groan, Lois pulled her lips away as she squeezed her body closer to his. “Chuck, you’ve got to do something about being so incredibly sexy all the time or I won’t be able to keep my hands off you.”

He sheepishly smiled. “Me? I was about to say the same of...”

She pushed him against the wall and, running her hands through his hair, dive-bombed his mouth again.

It was too late.

They had already gone too far.

It was as if someone had given her one tiny square of chocolate and told her she couldn’t have any more until she was married, and then she could have all the chocolate she ever wanted.

It all made sense.

She finally understood why people were told not to have sex until their wedding night.

Once she had a taste of chocolate, so to speak, she wouldn’t be able to satisfy herself until she was too sated to move.

Her nails dug into Clark’s shoulders as she forced herself to breathe. “Take me outside and throw me into a snow bank!”

“What?” he gasped, staring at her. “Why?”

“I need to cool off.”

He chuckled as if familiar with her pain, this ache burning inside of her. “Then you’ll be cold and wet.” His eyes dilated as if he were picturing her thusly.

Lois kissed him again, her tongue dancing with his. Why did everything he said suddenly sound erotic?

Minutes passed and she felt a doorknob press into her back. She hadn’t even recalled leaving the stairs. She turned the knob with her hand and she tumbled backwards into her room, landing on the bed.

She bounced her eyebrows at Clark hovering in the doorway. “Do you want to come in?”

“Do I ever!” he announced, taking a long stride into the room. He stopped, his eyes pinching closed for a couple of seconds, and then he returned to the door. “No.”

“It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas…” a loud tune wafted up the stairs at them.

“We’re not alone,” he reminded her.

Lois nodded her head. “Right.” How could she have forgotten about the Kents?

He grinned. “Rain check?”

She winked. “Better make that a snow check.”

“It’s snowing now,” he said, his head bobbing towards the windows.

She returned his knowing grin. “I know.” She held out her hand and he pulled her to her feet.

“How come everything you say makes me want to make love to you?” he whispered in her ear as he nuzzled her neck on the way down the stairs, again.

“Lucky, I guess,” she murmured back.

His brow furrowed. “Me or you?”

“Both,” she said, kissing his cheek and continuing down the stairs, leaving him in her wake.

“Goodness!” he breathed roughly from behind her, and somehow she knew he was commenting on his view.

“Merry Christmas,” Lois said as she entered the heavenly-smelling kitchen.

Laid out before her on the table was a platter of French pastries, including chocolate filled croissants.

Martha was whispering with Jonathan and turned to face her with laughter in her eyes. Somehow, Lois just knew her and Clark’s love nest wasn’t quite the secret she had hoped it was.

“Merry Christmas! I was beginning to wonder if we were going have to celebrate the holiday tomorrow,” Martha teased. “Coffee?”

Lois felt Clark’s arm wrap around her waist as he kissed her cheek. Instead of feeling mortified, she felt loved.

Martha loved her.

Jonathan loved her.

Clark more than loved her. He treasured her.

Her. Lois Lane. Was the love of this man’s life.

She looked into his smiling eyes.

And he was hers.

***

Thomas and Wayne Irig had arrived while Lois and Clark were playing in the snow several hours later. The Kents and Mr. Irig sat on the front porch drinking hot cider as they held a three-way snowball battle, which quickly turned into a fight between her and Thomas versus Clark. Despite Lois calling no ‘powers’ before they had gone outside, Clark’s snow mastery led him to a decisive victory.

He collapsed into the snow next to Lois after shaking Thomas’s hand for a good game and the younger man had retreated inside with the others for something hot to drink.

“Cooled off?” Clark asked as he brushed the snow off her chest.

“Not if you keeping doing that,” she replied.

He paused and shifted his hand to her waist, pulling her so that they were snuggled together in the snow.

She shivered slightly.

“Cold?” he asked.

Her fiery gaze implied she wasn’t.

He swallowed and tugged at his collar. Only Lois Lane could make him sweat while laying in the snow.

“I can see why you love it here,” she said, running her fingers through the snow. “It feels so unreal, as if I’ve walked into a dream.”

Clark had experienced many dreams such as this, but never when he was awake. “I love you, minha,” he murmured, leaning over to kiss her lips.

He could see the magic in what Jonathan had said earlier.

A Christmas proposal.

He wanted so much for Lois to be his wife, but he didn’t want to ruin the magic. He didn’t want those words to drive the glowing happiness from her eyes.

“I love you, too, Clark,” she replied, wrapping her arms around his neck.

Two seconds later, he felt the snow she had tucked into the neck of his jacket dripping down his spine.

She crawled away laughing as he shimmied and shook the snow out of his shirt.

He ran through the snow after her, finally tackling her down the driveway towards the barn. “What did you do that for?” he inquired.

Lois batted her eyelashes innocently at him, but her grin was pure naughtiness. “I wanted to give you an excuse to get naked.” Her eyebrows danced suggestively, driving all the air out from his lungs.

“You would’ve killed me, if I had done and said the same to you,” he accused.

She shrugged. “Oh, so you don’t want me wet and naked?”

Images of a shared shower filled his mind. “Wet, yes,” he returned, when he got his breath back from this double-whammy. “But I can see you naked any time I want.” He tapped the rim of his glasses.

“You wouldn’t dare!” she said, pointing at him. “That’s cheating!”

He nodded in agreement. “I wouldn’t, but only because I won’t be able to think coherently.”

Lois bit her bottom lip in the way that made him want to do the same thing. He acted on this desire. She slid his glasses off his face as he drew away.

He glanced around to make sure nobody could see him from the house. “Hey!”

“I thought you wanted to see me naked,” she replied, lying back playfully in the snow.

Clark covered his face as his heart started to race. “Not like this!” He was doing his best not to bury himself in the snow as it was.

“Your loss.”

He dropped his hand in order to see if she was serious only to see his glasses drop out of the air from where she had tossed them to him.

“I totally would’ve checked you out,” she admitted.

He grinned. “Oh, really?”

She looked at him with a ‘Do you doubt me?’ expression. “Why is Clark Kent sexier than Superman?” she asked instead.

He loved the implication of the question. “I don’t care why.”

Lois laughed, scooping up a snowball and throwing it at him. “Because the suit comes off, silly.”

He flopped backwards in the snow. She was killing him. He rolled over so that he was on his belly facing her. He dropped his glasses in the snow in front of himself and started scanning through her clothes. He made it as far down as her waist before forcing himself to stop. He picked up his glasses and put them on. “Actually, Superman’s suit does come off.”

Unfortunately, due to his glasses fogging up, he couldn’t see her reaction, but he did feel the pile of snow land on his head.

“I know,” he heard her reply, before she kissed his cheek. “If you recall, I had the pleasure of stripping him a few weeks ago.” She kissed his other cheek. “But it’s easier to get Clark Kent naked.”

Clark heard her climb to her feet.

He tilted down his glasses and saw that she had a hand extended to help him up.

“Come on, Clark. Shall we warm up in a shower?”

He took her hand, even though all rational thought told him the best course of action was to stick his head in the snow. Once on his feet, Clark tugged her to his chest and kissed her as he leaned up against a tree. By keeping the trunk to his back, he would make sure his feet remained on the ground.

Marry me? he thought, unable to say the words aloud, unable to shatter this perfect moment.

She merely grinned and started to run towards the house. “Catch me if you can!”

***

Martha stood on top of the hill, gazing down at the grave marker partially buried in snow. She had just set a pine wreath on the little mound, having said what she had come to say.

The sun was starting to set and she could feel the temperature dropping. She clapped her gloved hands together to warm them. “Merry Christmas, Clark, honey. We love you.” Her voice cracked with hoarseness.

Tracing her footprints in the snow back out, Martha headed down the hill. Jerome was waiting for her a little way down the road. She smiled as she approached him.

Soon, she found herself enveloped in his arms. “You and Jonathan aren’t poor substitutes, Mom. I’ve needed you in my life far more than you’ve needed me.”

Martha nudged his arm. “That was a private conversation.”

Jerome immediately let go. “I’m sorry. Force of habit, when people talk to Clark, I tend to listen. It’s hard to switch off.”

She wrapped her arm around his and patted it. “It’s okay. I understand.”

“You’re a wonderful mother.”

Martha merely shook her head.

“Twice, you accepted a stranger into your heart and home, loving him as if he were your own flesh and blood. No matter what you might think, I consider myself blessed to have met you and Jonathan.”

She squeezed Jerome’s arm in gratitude for those words. Martha had always hated that part of herself that was too selfish to give her heart to any more children, when so many needed love. Jonathan had forgiven her more easily, because he understood how hard it was for her to repeatedly love someone, only to have them taken away from her. She cried every time and for weeks after each foster child was returned home, knowing where each child had come from and what many were returning home to. It broke her heart, but she kept at it year after year, hoping someone would be able to stay.

Jonathan told her that it wasn’t a curse to love too much. Martha knew otherwise.

Eventually, she had stopped saying ‘yes,’ and accepted the difficult truth. She and Jonathan weren't destined to grow old with grandchildren playing at their knees and that this Jonathan would be the last Kent to farm this land.

“Who’s playing the Smallville Santa this year?” Jerome interrupted these heavy thoughts.

Martha glanced up at him. “Pardon.”

“Well, back when I was a kid, my dad would dress up in this Santa suit and deliver food and toys to the needy families in town. I mean, I didn’t know it was my dad until later, when I was in high school and working afternoons at the Smallville Market. Mr. Cooper had me help gather up the groceries for the families that year. He told me that he became Santa after my father’s passing.” Jerome sniffled and rubbed his nose with the back of his hand. “Did Mr. Cooper become Santa after Jonathan’s accident?”

Martha’s feet stopped as she stared at him. “Mr. Richard Cooper?” she was finally able to ask. “Dick Cooper?”

“Yeah, I guess that’s what Joan Cooper called him. Richard Junior was a couple of years ahead of me; I think he became an anthropologist. No, an archaeologist.” He shook his head as if he really couldn’t recall. “Glen was a couple years younger than me,” he went on. “No, wait. Just a year younger. He graduated with Rachel.” Jerome sucked his lips into his mouth and closed his eyes for a moment as if recalling that the Rachel here had died.

“He didn’t…” she paused, not knowing exactly how to phrase the question. “Run off?”

Jerome’s brow furrowed. “Who?”

“Dick Cooper,” Martha asked. “Senior.”

Jerome scoffed. “Mr. Cooper? Hardly. He’s a devoted family man. Next to my dad, Mr. Cooper was the best. He adores his wife and children. He’d never leave them. I often envied Richard and Glen’s lives.” He stared at Martha. “Are you saying that your Mr. Cooper abandoned his wife and kids?” He shook his head in disbelief. “No way!”

An ache grew in Martha’s chest. That was exactly what they all had thought too, but Dick Cooper seemed to have just faded into the ether. “Kid,” she corrected. “Richard was still a toddler when Dick disappeared.”

Jerome’s eyes widened. “You mean Mr. Cooper disappeared back in the sixties?”

Martha nodded. “There was a state-wide search, but Joan never heard anything. Dick went out to dump the trash in the alley after closing one Sunday and never came back.”

Jerome covered his mouth in shock, so she continued.

“He had just telephoned Joan and told her he was just closing up. The police found no signs of foul play. The front door of the store was locked up tight, the cash locked up in the safe. Nothing appeared stolen, nothing missing. They even found the bags of trash he had taken out to the dumpster. He just disappeared.”

“They never heard anything?”

Martha swallowed, shaking her head. “We – Joan and I – overheard someone at Maisie’s café joking that Dick must have been abducted by aliens, because that’s the only way he would’ve left Joan and his son.” She chuckled without humor. “Joan had merely laughed at the idea, ‘Dick would’ve loved it.’ He was such a big kid, Dickie Cooper was. Loved outer space and dinosaurs.” She frowned, afraid to admit that she had given more credence to that story than it deserved.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s okay. It was a long time ago,” Martha said, patting his arm as they continued towards the house. “To answer your question, Pete Ross took over as Santa after Jonathan’s accident. When he became a father last year, Harv Small took over for him.”

“Wow. Pete’s a father?” Jerome gaped. “Good for him!”

“Do you still think it’s impossible for you and Lois…?” she cut herself off. Sometimes, she wondered about her runaway mouth.

To her surprise, Jerome actually grinned. “Not as much as I used to.” There was a sparkle in his eye.

She nudged him. “Well, just don’t be loud.”

He flushed. “Mom!” He buried his face in his hand.

If she had ever had any doubts about Jerome’s story about being the baby in the space ship raised by her and Jonathan in another dimension, those disappeared every time she teased him. It was as if he were twelve again.

Martha laughed.

They soon reached the farmhouse. Lois must have heard or saw them coming, because she opened the backdoor and greeted them.

“Did you have a nice walk?” she asked.

Jerome gave Martha a wink before saying, “Not as nice as the walk we had earlier.”

Martha smiled. Jerome was everything she could hope for in a son.

*

Clark watched as Martha went inside and over to Jonathan and started telling him about Dick Cooper from his dimension. That was the strangest story he had heard in a long time. And Clark lived in Metropolis! It was only missing a bonfire. It was that spooky of a story.

Lois wrapped her arms around his neck. “Whatcha thinking about?”

“You,” he lied, crossing his fingers behind her back.

“Really?” She gazed at him skeptically.

So much for lying.

“I was thinking about last night,” she went on before kissing him.

Well, now that she brought up the subject… “And what exactly were you thinking about last night?” he asked, kissing down her neck.

“That we had hardly made out before you returned us to the bed,” she whispered in his ear.

“You were quite distracting,” he murmured. “Um… You liked being on the ceiling?”

Lois poked him in the chest. “I promise you, Chuck, someday soon we’re going to make love on the ceiling and break your fear of heights.”

Oh, really? He grinned. He may have misheard, but that sounded an awful lot like an ‘I do’ to him, especially in light of her admission of not wanting him to break his vow.

He kissed the side of her mouth. “Marry…” He kissed the other side of her mouth.

“Merry Christmas, Clark,” she said, covering his lips and stealing his breath.

Lois was right. They could discuss the details later.

***End of Part 228***

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