Lovely story, Sara! And just perfect for that BatP/HoL freak, Kae!
Sure, the confrontation and the declarations of love and so on were great. But what most appealed to me was that first scene, your depiction of Clark Kent alone in his apartment, torn apart by pain caused by loving a woman he could never have, a woman who had rejected him and betrayed him. Your imagery and description left me breathless and envious.
There was this, in particular:
He groaned out loud, a tortured sound, and plunged his fingers through his hair once more, wishing for solace, for peace, for...
...for sleep.
Sleep... where endless images of her danced behind his eyeballs, when she came to him with silken whispers and impossible promises, when he held her tight against his body and plundered her mouth with his hungry lips, when she gasped his name and clutched his hair and told him she loved him...
...when he woke up in a sweaty haze, the blankets twisted in a cruel tangle around his lower limbs, half-delirious with the thought of her, the taste of her, until the cool night air revived him into a state of semi-consciousness and he remembered who he was - where he was.
Clark Kent. Superman. In his apartment. Alone in his apartment at some ungodly hour.
Alone. Always alone.
Poor Clark!
Great work, Sara!
Wendy
