I've been posting this story over on the nfic board, and I've decided to bite the bullet and tackle the gfic conversion straight away. With luck, that'll get me over my writer's block... I've had 9/10 parts of this written for several weeks, you see, and I'm hoping that posting it will shake the muse up.
So: this is by way of an answer to the
endometriosis challenge . I'll try to post every other day until I've caught up with the nfic version - after that it depends whether I've managed to finish the story yet or not. :p
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Rest and Reproductionby Meredith Knight
Rated: PG-13
Table of Contents Comments Chapter One: We've Got a Groovy Thing Goin'Lois lifted the lid of the machine. The light on the front was glowing a steady green. She raised the eye-dropper and carefully dripped three drops of liquid onto the pad on the top of the machine. They vanished at once. Lois put the dropper back into the beaker and closed the lid.
The light flickered and winked to amber.
Lois's heart gave a sideways leap, then settled into a new, faster rhythm. She stared at the light blankly for a few moments, then an odd, strained smile crept onto her face.
She turned away and began to dress.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Clark was having difficulty concentrating. He was supposed to be finishing his account of the Trevino trial for the Saturday morning edition, but as he studied his computer screen he could see Lois out of the corner of his eye.
And Lois had been behaving oddly all day.
She'd been brusque almost to the point of rudeness when she'd arrived at work this morning, which wasn't unusual - Lois's temper was becoming a byword in the newsroom, and sometimes there were lines of strain on her face that made Clark wonder if she was ill, but nobody dared ask after her health these days. Clark had resigned himself to this being one of the more difficult days, and continued reading his email... and then, five minutes later, she'd brought him a cup of coffee and a doughnut, which was almost unheard of. He could almost swear she'd been blushing when he'd looked up in surprise to thank her. She'd leant against his desk for a few minutes and asked him about his plans for the day, which had simply consisted of attending the trial and then coming back to the Planet to write it up; then she'd bustled back to her desk and ignored him till he'd left.
Now she was sitting in front of her computer screen, pretending to work but in reality fiddling with all the various objects on her desk in turn and shooting him surreptitious glances every few minutes. He had no idea what could be on her mind. He'd developed the habit of walking her home in the evenings after work lately, even though the threat to her life had ended with Barbara Trevino's arrest; but it was only a quarter to five, and Lois never left work before six at the very earliest.
Still, five was his deadline for this piece, and he needed to forget about Lois long enough to finish it up. Pretending to be bothered by the glare on his screen, Clark shifted his monitor and chair until Lois was no longer in his field of vision, and set to work.
Dead on five, the editor's door opened and Perry appeared. "Kent, where's the Trevino piece?" he bellowed.
"Just coming, Chief!" Clark hit the enter key and sat back with a sigh. It wasn't quite up to his usual polished standard, but it would have to do. Time for a cup of coffee, he thought, and to catch up on the newsroom gossip; and perhaps Lois would finally tell him what was eating at her.
But Lois was straightening up her desk and taking her handbag out of her desk drawer. As Clark walked over to get her coffee mug, she bent and pulled a small suitcase out from under her desk. He stopped in surprise. "Where are you going?" he asked.
She straightened, her face slightly flushed. "I've got the weekend off," she said. "I thought I'd spend a few days away from home, for some rest and recuperation. I'm booked into the Lexor Hotel."
"Wow!" Clark widened his eyes in exaggerated envy. "So you're going to be living it up in the lap of luxury while the rest of us are slaving away here as usual?"
She laughed. "You don't know the half of it. When I called to reserve a room, all they had left was the honeymoon suite. I got a special rate for it. Luxury indeed!"
He grinned. "Well, have fun. Give us lesser mortals a call to let us know how you're getting on with the jacuzzi and the crushed velvet." He saluted her with his coffee mug.
"Clark..." She turned away to reach for her coat, and he automatically stepped closer to help her on with it in the way that had become almost second nature over the last week or so. As she buttoned it she slanted a look up at him through her eyelashes. "I was wondering... you suggested once that we go out for a celebration dinner, after we'd cracked a story, and I don't think we ever did. And I really owe you for looking after me last week. Would you like to have dinner with me at the hotel restaurant this evening?"
Clark felt the world tilt crazily under his feet. Was this what Lois had been nervous about all afternoon? Because, if so...
He gave a quick glance around the newsroom. No one seemed to be paying them any attention.
"You mean, as in two partners having a meal together?" he said quietly.
Her cheeks flamed. "No... I mean, as in a date."
He nodded. He felt like shouting and leaping with joy, but he stood still and let his eyes convey his feelings. "I'd love to."
"Good." She picked up her things. "I'll see you at eight, then. In the restaurant."
"I'll be there." Clark wanted to lean against her desk and watch her walk away with a soppy smile all over his face. Instead, he turned and made his way over to the coffee machine, listening to her heart beating erratically all the way out of the building.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"This is a full service hotel, madame!" The bellboy's outrage was manifest in every line of his body and every throb of his reedy adolescent voice.
"I don't care. I don't want you pawing through my things; I'm perfectly capable of unpacking them myself."
The bellboy debated internally for another few seconds and then raised a hand in front of him. Lois sighed and reached for a banknote, which she placed in his palm. His eyes flicked downward for a second; otherwise, he didn't move.
Neither did Lois. She stood glaring at him until he shifted uncomfortably and darted a look at her.
"Git," she said, pointing at the door, and he drew himself up and stalked out of the room.
Trembling, for reasons quite unrelated to the recent battle of wills, Lois finally let go the handle of her suitcase and sank into a chair.
Phase one complete. She was here, safely checked into the hotel; Clark would be arriving later. For dinner.
He'd be downstairs at the restaurant in two and a half hours, and she needed to be there before him so that she didn't have to walk in with his eyes on her, because the way her knees were shaking she doubted she'd be able to walk straight. If at all.
So that left just about two hours for phase two.
She got to her feet, carried her suitcase through to the bedroom, and unpacked the dresses she'd brought with her. She'd been unable to make up her mind between them this morning, so she'd packed all three.
What do you wear to a seduction?
Well, your little black number, of course. Only Lois's little black number was about three years old, and had frankly seen better days. Not that Clark would be able to tell that it was a little out of style, she thought - women's fashions were unlikely to be one of his interests. And a little careful draping would disguise the fact that what's his name - Gerald? - had ripped the seam at the shoulder slightly that night, just before she'd hit him over the head with her purse and felled him with a Tae Kwon Do kick to the unmentionables.
No, somehow the little black number didn't seem quite right.
Next to it hung the midnight blue dress she'd worn to the White Orchid Ball back in the spring. Her intended target, Lex Luthor, had been stunned by it, and so, it seemed, had Clark... he'd cut her out just when she'd managed to pull off a dance with the elusive billionaire. She'd been furious, she remembered with a chuckle; she hadn't given a smidgin of attention to the compliments he'd tried to pay her at the time. Too busy prying into Lex's personal space... She'd got to know both men considerably better over the last few months, well enough to know that Clark was the man she wanted with her tonight.
The ball gown was really way too dressy for dinner at a hotel restaurant... even dinner with an agenda. And the dress she'd bought with Lex in mind didn't seem quite right for an evening with Clark, either.
Which left dress number three. The one Lucy had insisted she buy when they'd been out shopping together, on one of their rare quarrel-free outings, and they'd seen a sale sign at an exclusive little boutique. The dress was burgundy, a colour Lucy insisted suited Lois perfectly and Lois wasn't sure about; the draped bodice hung from narrow straps attached by tiny golden clasps, and the skirt was long and elegant. It looked far more demure than either of the other two... at first glance.
Lois wondered if she dared wear it tonight.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Clark had conscientiously sat at his desk reading traffic statistics until six-thirty, done his evening Superman patrol and showered and dressed at normal speed, but he still managed to arrive outside the Lexor Hotel at ten to eight. He hung around outside the entrance for as long has he could, but although the winter chill didn't affect him he could see the concierge eyeing him curiously, and after a couple of minutes he gave up and ventured inside.
As early as he was, Lois was earlier. The maitre d' waved Clark over to her table as soon as he mentioned her name, but Clark stood riveted to the ground for a moment at the sight of her.
She looked truly breathtaking. She was wearing burgundy, one of his favourite colours, and she'd put up her hair in a cluster of curls, just one or two strands escaping to emphasise the long, elegant curve of her neck. Clark found his feet piloting him automatically in her direction.
She looked up as he neared the table. For an instant there was a flash of something like panic in her eyes; then she was smiling a warm welcome. Clark recognised the same mix of emotions he was experiencing himself as he returned her smile.
"I wasn't sure you'd come," she said in a breathless voice as he seated himself.
"Wild horses wouldn't have kept me away," he assured her. "Our first date."
Some odd emotion flickered in her eyes and was gone. Then a waiter was handing them menus and waiting for Clark to order a drink; Lois, he saw with amusement, already had some sort of exotic cocktail with an umbrella in it. "You're going all the way, aren't you?" he teased when the waiter had left to fetch his mineral water. "With this relaxation thing, I mean," he added, waving at the drink, as Lois shot a startled look at him.
"Sure am." Lois's eyes dropped and she opened her menu. "The veal here is supposed to be pretty good..."
They talked throughout dinner, avoiding work-related topics by tacit consent. Clark tried to draw Lois out on the subject of her family, but she seemed reluctant to say much about either of her parents. Instead, he found himself talking about his own parents: how much he admired their marriage and how he wanted the same sort of family himself one day. Lois listened quietly, staring into her glass of wine. He turned the conversation to his travels then, and she grew more animated, asking probing questions about the various countries he'd visited and admitting to a sneaking desire to see the sights of Europe.
"You should take the time now, while you're young," he said lightly. "Before you get bogged down with responsibilities."
A shadow seemed to cross her face, then she was laughing. "I don't think I'll ever want to take that amount of time off," she said. "If I spent six months in Europe, it would take me years to get back to where I am now."
Clark shook his head. "You underestimate yourself. Everyone knows you're the best in the business, Lois, and you've got the Kerths to prove it. If you took a year off, all the major papers would be falling over themselves to hire you when you got back."
"You think so?" She looked uncharacteristically vulnerable, considering the question with more seriousness than Clark would have expected. On impulse, he reached out and took her hand across the table.
"I know so."
Her hand was warm in his, and her pulse was fluttering. Her dark eyes met his shyly, and a spark seemed to jump the gap between them. Her fingers shifted within his grasp and slid around to twine with his. Clark felt his own pulse begin to race.
"I never imagined this happening, you know," he said suddenly. "After what you said about getting involved with co-workers, and everything... I never thought you'd consider me as a potential, well, date."
She smiled slowly at him. "I told you not to fall for me, didn't I?" she said softly.
"It was a bit late," he said honestly. "I was already smitten with you by then, you know."
She blushed at the admission, and seemed uncertain how to respond. The waiter chose that moment to arrive at the table, and Clark released her hand reluctantly to sit back and let him clear the plates. "How was the meal?" came the standard enquiry.
"It was excellent, thanks," Clark responded automatically. In truth, he couldn't recall a single thing about it; he'd been completely preoccupied with Lois.
"Would you like the dessert menu?" the waiter asked.
Clark nodded, but Lois spoke across him. "Is it possible to have dessert brought up to the honeymoon suite?"
The waiter's gaze flickered to her left hand before he spoke. "Of course, madame. May I recommend the Chocolate Lovers' Platter, for two to share?"
"That sounds perfect," Lois responded. "And some coffee, please." She didn't look at Clark until the waiter had left; then her gaze met his with a hint of apology. "I thought we'd be more... comfortable in the suite," she said. "No more interruptions."
Clark didn't reply. His heart was thumping and his mouth was dry. Exactly what was Lois expecting from this evening? He would have sworn blind she wasn't the type to jump into bed on a first date with anyone, let alone the work partner she'd warned off months before, but if it had been any other woman, he'd have said all the signs were pointing that way.
And with any other woman - and there had been a few, over the years - he'd have made his excuses at this point and gone on his way, footloose and fancy-free. But this was Lois, and he was no longer heart-whole. If she was interested in further intimacy, so was he... He could only hope that if it did happen, his inexperience wouldn't disappoint her.
He swallowed, trying to relax enough to breathe normally. He needed to keep a clear head and not jump to any conclusions. However he might feel about Lois, it was highly unlikely, from what he knew of her, that she felt the same way about him. She obviously had more than platonic feelings for him if they were on a date, but she probably didn't intend the invitation to her room quite the way it appeared at first glance.
In fact, he thought with an inward grimace, he probably ought to feel flattered that she trusted him enough to invite him to her room. Unless this was a test... and if so, he intended to pass with flying colours. He would take his lead from her, letting her set the pace with which they explored their mutual feelings.
While he'd sat mute and unmoving, the waiter had brought the bill to the table. Lois was signing it with her customary flourish; she didn't appear to have noticed anything odd about his behaviour. In a moment they would stand up to go to her room...
Clark made a desperate attempt to control his physical response to the situation before he had to leave the shelter of the table. Thinking about something else ought to help. The remote majesty of the Alps, seen from an altitude of a few thousand feet above them... the frozen wastes of the Arctic, near the North Pole... no, the splendour of nature wasn't doing it. A murderous Sebastian Finn, struggling with Lois in her apartment? That was better.
A sneering Lex Luthor, coolly threatening Superman with the deaths of innocent bystanders if he stayed in Metropolis...
That did the trick. He just had to hold onto that image, and the embers of the impotent rage Luthor had aroused in him, with a remote corner of his mind while he dealt with the current situation.
Lois handed the signed bill and the pen back to the waiter and looked at him. "Coming?" she said. Without waiting for an answer, she slid from her seat and turned towards the restaurant door.
Clark suppressed a gasp.
The burgundy dress, draped unrevealingly around her at the front, was backless except for the two thin shoulder straps which crossed in the middle of her back and attached at the sides of her waist, the only interruption to a smooth expanse of ivory skin extending some inches below her waistline. The skirt flared out as she took a step, and a slit at the side parted to reveal a long line of thigh with a hint of stocking lace at the top.
Abruptly, Clark was aware of only two things: his urgent desire for her, and the fact that every interested eye in the restaurant would be riveted on her, and not on his response.
Like a lamb to the slaughter, he rose and followed her meekly out of the room.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Phase three was proceeding perfectly, Lois thought with satisfaction as Clark caught her up in front of the elevators. Or nearly perfectly.
She hadn't bargained for the qualms that had assailed her as the meal had progressed and Clark had become steadily more open about his feelings for her. Or as he'd spoken of his parents' marriage and his own desire to follow in their footsteps.
Guilt was too strong a word, she assured herself, watching the indicator light of the elevator counting down. It wasn't as though she was preventing him realising his dream. One day he'd meet a lovely woman just like his mother, and he'd marry her and acquire the picket fence and the 2.4 children. He probably wouldn't even tell his wife about the strange interlude between him and his reporting partner, and really, there'd be no reason he should. The feelings churning in Lois's stomach now had nothing to do with guilt, and little with jealousy; though perhaps there was a little envy, because somehow she was sure Clark and his wife would be idyllically happy. But picket fences weren't for her.
No, her feelings were chiefly composed of pure nerves, because although phase three was proceeding perfectly, there was still phase four... and that was something she didn't even want to think about.
The elevator chimed and the doors swished open. Clark raised a hand to motion Lois inside, as he so often did; his hand hovered a fraction of an inch from the bare skin of her back, but didn't actually touch her. Was he still being a gentleman? That would never do...
Lois deliberately took a short stride as she entered the elevator car, so that she stopped abruptly just inside the doorway. Clark's stride carried him past her and his hand landed squarely on the small of her back. A warm tingling spread through her from the point of contact.
She stood still and raised her eyes to his. "It's the top floor," she said huskily, fully aware that she was standing between him and the elevator control panel.
He hesitated for an instant, then leant over and pressed the button. The movement brought him up against her, and she raised her hands to his waist to keep him there. His breath caught in his throat, and his hand drifted back from the button to land on her shoulder. She turned her face up to his, and saw his eyes darken as they fixed themselves on her slightly parted lips.
"Lois..." he breathed.
Even then, he didn't take the initiative. She had to reach up and tug his head down before he closed his eyes and covered her mouth with his own. There was nothing reluctant about his kiss - on the contrary, its intensity seemed to sear itself across her nerves - but she could sense him holding back, waiting for her to set the pace.
Part of her could only marvel at his self-control; another part of her was secretly wailing in frustration at it. By this stage, he should have been completely in thrall to his libido, totally at her mercy. Every man she'd encountered before, faced with even a hint of an invitation to kiss her on the way to her hotel room, would have taken it as proof positive of her sexual surrender; would by now have been mauling her thoroughly in anticipation of full sex as soon as they came within striking distance of her bed.
Instead, Clark was holding her body lightly against his, stroking her lips with his own and savouring every touch, every caress. His very restraint made her yearn for more. She shifted her weight to arch her body against him and opened her mouth beneath his. Her tongue reached out and stroked at the softness of his lips. He moaned, his hand spreading out over the small of her back to press her more firmly against him, and his tongue snaked out to dance with hers and then to probe the depths of her mouth.
Conscious thought vanished. There was only sensation; Clark's skin moving against hers, wet tongues and dry lips and the slight rasp of stubble, hands moving tentatively and then urgently to seek better contact with each other's bodies.
Somewhere, close by, there was a soft chime; then the hiss of the doors opening. Lois hadn't even felt the elevator stop - Clark must have better balance than she did, or they would surely both have fallen. The kiss broke, and reluctantly she opened her eyes. She could see the same frustrated loss in Clark's eyes, so close to her own.
They needed to get out of the elevator, she thought hazily, before it set off for another floor. Unwinding one of her arms from Clark's neck but leaving the other firmly hooked around his waist, she turned and walked forward. Neither of them spoke; they were both breathing heavily, and Clark seemed as dazed as she was. At about the third step she could finally feel the ground beneath her feet.
Mercifully, no one seemed to be around on this floor to notice or comment. The door of the honeymoon suite was directly opposite the elevators, and Lois stopped outside. Her purse, remarkably, was still clutched in the hand she had around Clark's waist; she had to let go of him to fumble in it for her room key, but his arm stayed looped around her shoulders as she unlocked the door and pushed it open.
The room beyond was still brightly lit, as she'd left it to go downstairs. The light seemed to waken some semblance of rational thought in Lois's brain. Clark seemed to sense the change in her, and as she took a step forward into the room he let his arm fall from around her shoulders.
"Come on in," she said. She dropped her purse and key on the table next to the door as he followed her in. He moved into the middle of the room and swung in a slow circle, taking in the details of the suite.
His lips pursed in a silent whistle. "Nice," he said, flashing her a smile.
"Better than that flea-pit you stayed in when you first came to Metropolis, that's for sure!" The one where she'd seen him in a towel once, when she'd arrived to collect him for one of their first assignments. Lois felt her breath catch at the memory. "Would you like a drink?" she said at random. "I could do with some iced water."
"I'll see what I can manage." Clark approached the ornate mini-bar with the air of a naturalist investigating a new and possibly dangerous snake, and began to experiment with it. Lois turned away, unable to watch him without her body aching every time he moved.
Those few minutes in the elevator had served to reassure her that phase four of this operation wouldn't be as difficult as she'd feared. At the same time, warning bells were jangling at the back of her mind.
She couldn't afford to lose sight of her real objectives. She had to keep a cool head, even while she made sure that Clark lost his completely.
The knock on the door heralding the arrival of their dessert came just as Clark finally worked out that the cupid statue surmounting the mini-bar was in fact the ice dispenser. Lois let the waiter in, tipped him once he'd placed his tray on the table near the couch, and then hung the "Do not disturb" sign on the outside of the door before closing it firmly, conscious of Clark's eyes watching her actions.
She dimmed the lights to an intimate level and then crossed the room to seat herself on the couch in front of the dessert tray. "Clark?"
He didn't respond. When she looked up at him, he detached his gaze, apparently with some difficulty, from the slit in her skirt. His eyes looked glazed. Triumph leapt inside her; she hoped it wouldn't show on her face. "Yes?"
She patted the cushion beside her. "Why don't you join me?"
He moved towards her like a sleep-walker, and thrust out the glass in his hand. "Your drink."
"Thank you." She took the glass and placed it on the table, then took his hand and drew him down beside her. He obeyed unresistingly until she leant forward and traced his mouth with her finger; then he let out a queer little sigh and reached for her hungrily.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Clark was in heaven.
He'd nearly given himself away in the elevator; he'd floated them right off the floor when it had stopped in the middle of their kiss. Fortunately he'd recovered before Lois had noticed anything, but if anyone had been waiting for the elevator on this floor they'd have had the shock of their lives when the doors had opened.
And if that kiss had been amazing, what he was experiencing now was, well... words weren't coming easily to him at the moment. He was sitting, half reclining, on the couch with Lois wrapped around him, and they were feeding each other chocolate. It seemed to involve a great deal of laughter and more than a few sighs of delight as they licked chocolate from each other's fingers, stopping now and again to share the taste in each other's mouths. At some stage Lois had undone his tie and unbuttoned his shirt, and more than once she'd chased a crumb or a stray drop of sauce down his chest with her tongue, wringing a moan of ecstasy from his throat.
He reached out for another truffle and found the tray empty. "It's all gone," he said ruefully.
Lois sat up to look. Her hair was escaping from the elegant style it had been in earlier, curls rioting about her face. Her eyes were heavy-lidded, her lips swollen from their kisses. Clark had never seen anything so sexy.
She handed him a napkin from the table, and he wiped the stickiness from his fingers. His gaze wandered downwards, and he grinned. "You have chocolate fingerprints on your neck," he commented.
She looked at him, her eyes smouldering, and leant forward invitingly. With a low growl, he covered each mark in turn with his mouth, swirling his tongue gently against her skin to remove the chocolate. Her pulse skittered and leapt as he worked his way down her neck. When he raised his head she sat still for a moment, breathing heavily.
Then she opened her eyes and looked at him. "Clark... come to bed with me."
His mouth opened in surprise. Even after everything they'd been doing together, even though he'd been half expecting it ever since she'd kissed him in the elevator, it was still astonishing to hear her say it. To know that she felt the same way about him as he did about her.
"Lois... are you sure? We don't have to, you know."
"I'm quite sure." She smiled. "This time it's not just the pheromone perfume talking. You... you do want to, don't you?"
"Of course I want to! You mean, what I said about not being attracted to you? Lois, I've been in love with you as long as I've known you. I just didn't want you to be uncomfortable with me, and I never thought you'd want... this." He gestured to the two of them.
She leant forward and kissed him open-mouthed, her hands roaming the skin of his chest and then his back, inside his shirt, until he was panting for breath. Then she stood up smoothly and grasped his hand to pull him to his feet. "Come on."
He followed her to the bedroom, half amazed that he could still put one foot in front of the other. His body was taut and eager, his heart pounding at the knowledge that he was about to cross the final threshold of intimacy for the first time with the woman he wanted to share the rest of his life with. And she felt the same way. Oh, she hadn't said the words yet, but he knew how commitment-shy she was; and her actions were speaking louder than words.
She stopped beside the bed and turned to face him. "Clark, will you just do one thing for me first?"
He smiled warmly at her. "Anything."
She picked up something from the nightstand. A clipboard. "Will you sign this?"
He took it automatically, frowning. "Sign...?" He peered disbelievingly at her. "What is it?"
"It's just a precaution."
He shook his head, mystified, and looked at the sheaf of paper attached to the clipboard. As he began to read, a sense of unreality crept over him, followed by a wave of anger.
"'I hereby relinquish any right of access or custody... child or children... should conception occur...' Lois, what
is this?"
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
.../tbc
