From Chapter Two:"Having second thoughts?"
"Not at all," she lied smoothly. "I'm ready when you are."
She heard Clark's breath hiss between his teeth; whether it was amusement or something else, she didn't know. "You talk a good game, partner," he said, settling onto the bed beside her and reaching for her shoulders. "Let's see how you are in action."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Table of Contents Comments Chapter Three: PatternsAfter registering, Clark had left the hotel for a few minutes. Cranford's was a short walk along the street, and open late; Clark didn't know and didn't want to guess what the book store staff thought of the man who'd stood in front of the sex manual section, methodically taking out each book in turn and flipping through it, then left the store again without a word.
The walk had done more than allow him to refresh his memory on the theory of sexual technique, though; it had given his rage time to die, leaving bleak depression in its place.
The fates must have it in for him. After years of lonely travelling, he'd finally found someone he wanted to share himself with; possibly even spend the rest of his life with. And she wasn't interested. He'd opened himself up tonight, told her that he loved her, laid his heart before her... and she'd trampled it underfoot. Worse even than rejecting him completely, she was bent on using him first, then discarding him. And he was letting her do it.
He was crazy to have signed that agreement. If he'd genuinely thought that Lois would have his baby, there was no way he could ever have agreed to walk away from her. Especially since any child of his might have super-powers. The only reason he'd been willing to sign was the knowledge that, as an alien, the chance that his genes were compatible with hers was vanishingly small.
He couldn't possibly tell her that, of course. He could have invented some other reason besides being Superman for saying that he was infertile, but if he told her he was incapable of doing what she wanted, she'd throw him out and go straight to Luthor. And that was a thought Clark simply couldn't bear.
He ought not to care what she did. He ought to despise her for the way she was treating him. But, try as he might, he couldn't rid himself of the images from earlier in the evening... Lois smiling at him over the dinner table, kissing him in the lift, laughing with him on the couch. He wanted her so badly he could practically taste her.
God help him, he still loved her. And he had to try... try at least to convince her that this plan to have a baby on her own was madness. And maybe, just maybe, he could convince her that they could have some sort of future together. After all, she wasn't actually physically averse to him... unless the whole of tonight had simply been an act. Unless she'd been faking all along.
He'd soon know just how much she was faking. She didn't have much chance of fooling him if he used his superpowers to monitor her body's responses to him.
But first, he had to talk to her. Find out just why she had decided to have a baby, and try to convince her to change her mind. As soon as he got back to the hotel room, he'd get her to talk.
And then he saw the erotic vision waiting for him, and all his good intentions evaporated in a sudden blaze of desire. He tried to damp down his response, made some smart remark to cover it which she countered with sarcasm of her own, but all he could think about was her body and his, and how soon they would be in contact.
As he stood beside the bed, drinking in the sight of her, her heartbeat leapt and skittered, and her hands started to move. For an instant he thought her nerve had finally snapped, that she would cover her body and tell him to leave, that she'd seen sense at last. The idea of having to turn away from her at this point was torture, but it was mixed with sheer relief. Only she could release him from the trap she, and his own stupidity, had set for him.
But no. Whatever scruple or flash of modesty had assailed her, it had lasted only a moment. He was caught like a fly in honeydew, and there was no reprieve.
He sank onto the bed beside her and reached for her shoulders, fighting to maintain some sort of control. It was so tempting just to let go, to lose himself in his desire and forget about the consequences... but he had every intention of making this experience as memorable for her as it would be for him. Besides, he had to remember at all times how easily he could hurt her.
As his hands touched her skin, that same spark seemed to jump between them. She seemed to feel it, too. She leant back against the mound of pillows and her arms reached out to make contact with his chest. She shifted, straightening her bent leg, angling her body towards him. Welcoming him.
Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion.
He bent forward and pressed his lips against the pulse leaping under the curve of her jaw. A faint trace of chocolate lingered there, and he opened his mouth to savour her skin once more. Her hands crept around his neck, gathering him in.
He kicked off his shoes and swung his legs onto the bed to lie beside her, supporting his weight on one elbow and leaving the other hand free to roam over her gleaming skin. His mouth followed the caress of his fingers, licking and nibbling at her neck and shoulders.
He'd dreamt of this for so long. He'd been hard-pressed to keep his hands off her when she'd been sprayed by that perfume and fancied herself in love with him. Ever since then, his sleep had been disturbed by fantasies of what would have happened if he'd given in before she'd recovered from its effects.
Now he was living out that fantasy. And none of his dreams had prepared him for the reality, the sheer, incredible pleasure of being free, at last, to touch and taste her. Her body was his, he'd said, and she'd made no demur; his to do with as he desired.
And as she desired. She hadn't spoken a word since his last taunt, but her breathing and her heartbeat filled his hearing, and both were getting steadily more erratic as he continued his ministrations.
His own body, he was vaguely aware, was responding more and more urgently to Lois's tantalising nearness; an animal growl at the back of his brain was urging him to hurry, to give her what she'd asked for as quickly as possible. So far, he was managing to ignore that part of himself, keeping it leashed and waiting. His turn would come, he assured it. For now, he was careful to limit the contact between his body and hers, concentrating as best he could on the sensations he was giving and receiving with his hands and mouth.
A scarlet ribbon tickled his cheek, and he lifted his hand and tugged the bow undone. Smoothing the ends of the ribbon aside, he glanced up at her face; her eyes were closed, her expression remote. Then, as he pulled down the shoulder of her garment, her eyes opened, and in their glazed depths he glimpsed... puzzlement?
The image stayed with him, niggling at a corner of his mind, as he bent his head again to explore the new territory he'd uncovered. The second shoulder bow went the way of the first, and soon he was unlacing the ribbon at the front of her garment, step by teasing step.
Lois was still lying passive, doing no more than cradling his head against her or running her hands over his shoulders; that remote corner of his mind took note with a tinge of concern. He unlaced the last of the scarlet ribbon and pushed the black silk aside. She tensed as he laid his hand on the warm skin of her stomach, but as he caressed in slow circles she gradually relaxed.
His fingers explored gently, guided by the catches in her breath and once or twice the faintest of moans. Soon she was clutching at his shirt, her breathing ragged. Her eyes drifted to his, a sense of wonder in their smoky brown depths, and her lips softened into the faintest of smiles.
Then her eyes shifted and a blush stained her cheekbones. He could almost see the shutters going up.
She wet her lips. "Very nice, Kent." He saw her wince as she registered her own throaty whisper, and she continued in a stronger voice, "But that's not why you're here."
If he hadn't been watching her so closely, he would have been fooled. Even as it was, it felt like a knife in his gut that she could so casually dismiss what was the greatest intimacy he'd experienced. So far.
She really did only want one thing from him.
"Don't worry, Lois," he said softly. "You'll get your pound of flesh." He mentally reviewed the words and added, "So to speak."
Her eyes flew to his; for a moment he thought she was going to laugh. Then, just as he was about to relax into a grin himself, her eyes skittered away again with a flash of some emotion he couldn't name.
Not even laughter was allowed to get in the way of her obsession...
So be it.
His body was aching for its own fulfilment. If that was all she wanted, that was what she would get.
He rolled to his knees beside her and drew aside the last folds of the black silk garment. She shifted her body to help him as he pulled it from under her and tossed it to the floor. Then he stood to remove his own clothing. Her eyes followed his hands from beneath her lowered lashes, and her breathing altered subtly.
She might not want to show it, but her body was far from indifferent to him.
He knelt on the bed beside her once more, and her gaze flicked up to his face. Then she reached out with both hands to remove his glasses.
No!
His hands caught her wrists easily; she made a single attempt to pull free and then lay quite still, looking up at him. She'd gone suddenly pale, and he finally recognised the emotion now flooding her eyes. It was fear.
He stared at her, arrested. What did she have to fear? She was the one who had done this before...
And then it hit him.
He dropped her wrists as if they'd burnt him and leant forward to run his palm along the line of her jaw.
"My God, Lois," he whispered. "Who did that to you? Who hurt you?"
Her eyes widened and then, slowly, filled with tears. Cursing himself silently, he gathered her against his chest. "Forget it," he said harshly. "Forget I asked. Lois, I never meant to upset you." He felt her sob, once, against his shoulder. "Forget him, Lois. He just isn't worth it."
He laid her back against the pillows and found her mouth with his own, and then she was kissing him unrestrainedly. Her scent rose up around him, misting his brain with desire.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Clark had confounded her not once, but twice. First, when he'd joined her on the bed and she'd confidently expected him to concentrate on his own pleasure before anything else, he'd instead spent long minutes making gentle love to her.
And then, when they'd both been naked and she'd known that nothing was going to stop him this time, he'd recognised her fear and responded to it in a way that had crashed straight through all her barriers. In a way that, against all the odds, had aroused her all over again. Instead of being scared and tense, she'd been as eager as he was, and it hadn't even been uncomfortable - it had been about the most wonderful sensation she'd known. She'd finally understood why it was that women could want sex, actually go out of their way to seek it out.
But now... now he'd reverted to normal male behaviour. Only this time, instead of feeling faintly revolted by what had passed, Lois was still racked by desire.
He was lying half on top of her, trembling, his breath slowly easing, his eyes closed. In a few moments he'd be fast asleep; the only real question was whether he'd roll off her first or not.
She had what she wanted, she reminded herself. The chance to conceive the baby she needed.
The mantra didn't help.
She wanted more! A frustrated whimper escaped her lips.
Instantly, his eyes snapped open, focusing on her. "Lois..." His hand, stilled cupped around her face, flexed and his thumb brushed over her cheek. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"
"No! No, I... it's just..." She caught her breath.
How could she have forgotten? She had to work beside this man on Monday. She had to guard herself against him, maintain what she could of her dignity... not much after he'd watched her in the throes of pleasure, but at least that experience was mutual.
Begging for more, however much she might want it, was out of the question.
"Am I too heavy?" He shifted his weight onto one elbow, and she felt his body move against hers, the skin of his chest brushing against her breasts. And against her will, she let out another whimper.
He gave a soft half-laugh and bent forward to brush a kiss over her lips. "I'm sorry, I was selfish. I'll try not to let it happen again..."
He actually looked embarrassed, she was astonished to see. "Oh no, I... that's okay," she said, flustered. "I mean, you did, uh, the necessary..."
He claimed her lips again for a deeper kiss. His hand left her face to stroke teasingly at her body, drawing a moan of longing from her.
She gave in and reached for him, running her hands over his chest and back, feeling the play of the well-developed muscles beneath his skin as he bent over her, feeding her passion once more with his hands and mouth.
He was ready for more... Earlier she had dreaded the thought that he might want her more than once; now nothing could have been more welcome. She looked up into his face and saw her own surprise and delight mirrored there.
And this time, it was everything she wanted and more...
Some time later she came back to herself, shivering slightly as her body cooled. Clark was lying next to her, one arm still draped across her chest, their legs still tangled together. She studied the sleeping face so close to her own, wondering that he could look so peaceful. She'd seen depths of emotion she'd never expected on that face today, of both anger and passion. Now both were spent.
He was still wearing his glasses. A tenderness she'd never known she possessed welled up inside Lois, and she reached forward to remove them.
Before she touched them, her wrist was caught once again in a vice-like grip. Clark's eyes were open, gazing into hers, and his face wasn't peaceful at all.
For a long, tense moment his gaze held her pinioned. Then he glanced down at her body, releasing her wrist as well as her eyes. "You're shivering," he said.
He rolled off the bed and flipped the cover down with one easy movement, the muscles flexing in his arm. Lois crawled between the sheets, feeling a sudden need for modesty as well as warmth.
A moment later he joined her. He snapped off the light, then she heard his glasses clatter down on the nightstand. His body eased down beside her, came to rest a few inches away from hers.
Had she expected him to take her in his arms? They weren't, after all, lovers in any sense but the technical one.
She felt unaccountably lonely. She wanted to roll over and cuddle up to him, but she didn't move.
Cuddling wasn't part of the plan.
"Good night, Lois," came a soft voice in the darkness.
"Good night, Clark."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
He couldn't afford to sleep deeply. He might float in his sleep, or she might wake before him and see his face without the glasses. He couldn't risk discovery.
And so Clark woke instantly when Lois rolled over and came to rest with her head pillowed on his shoulder and her arm flung across his chest.
For a long moment he didn't breathe. She was breathing slowly and regularly, though. She was fast asleep.
He relaxed just a little. In a few moments, when he was sure she wasn't going to wake, he'd ease himself away from her. In the meanwhile...
It occurred to him that the body pressed up against him was naked. As was his. His virginity was a thing of the past; he had finally - belatedly, some would say - taken the plunge into sex and now he was lying beside his sleeping lover.
He ought to feel overjoyed, overwhelmed with love. Or perhaps, given the callous way she'd tried to manipulate him, he ought to feel angry and used.
He ought to feel something.
He probed at his emotions like someone worrying a loose tooth. Earlier, he had been so angry and hurt at the way Lois had treated him that he'd barely been able to think. Now... there was only emptiness, and a dull, faraway ache for his broken dreams. He'd lost his innocence in more ways than one tonight.
Perhaps, if he'd been a normal man, he'd still have been feeling angry and hurt and used. As it was, he knew he hadn't given her what she'd really been after - the ability to conceive. In a way, he'd been using her as shamelessly as she'd been using him, to satisfy his physical desire for her. He was worse than she was, really, because at least she'd been honest about what she was asking from him.
His conscience gave a twinge.
But what choice had he had? If he'd been honest she would have been lying in Luthor's arms right now. And not only did the thought of Lois touching that snake bring Clark out in a cold sweat... but if she put herself in Luthor's power like that, she would be lost. He would have her dancing on a string till the end of her miserable days.
Clark might have taken advantage of her physically, but at least he cared for her happiness. Which was why he had to prevent her from following this disastrous course of action - not just having Luthor's baby, but the whole idea of becoming a single mother. He had to talk her out of it.
But he could do nothing for now. Now she was fast asleep, curled confidingly against him, all her defences in abeyance. Once again, Clark found himself dwelling on the feeling of her body against his.
The steady rise and fall of her ribs was creating the barest hint of friction between her skin and his. A normal man might not even have noticed. Clark was acutely aware of every shift, every subtle change in pressure.
He felt his body start to respond.
Again?Was this another manifestation of superpowers, one he'd never had any reason to suspect until now? Or was it simply that he had over a decade of abstinence to make up for?
A strand of her hair was tickling his cheek. He lifted a hand and smoothed it down over her head. It seemed natural to run his palm over her hair and then curve it around the base of her jaw.
She sighed and burrowed her cheek a little deeper into the curve of his shoulder. Her breasts shifted against his chest. His arm moved automatically to wrap around her body and hold her against him.
The skin under his fingers was satin-soft. Heat seemed to radiate up his arm from the contact. He fought the urge to explore her curves.
But he wasn't the only one affected by it, it seemed. Lois was breathing faster and her body was pressing closer against him.
Was that possible? And yet, Clark thought, what he'd learnt earlier suggested that she'd had a bad experience with sex - perhaps more than one. Perhaps she hadn't slept with anyone since Claude, and she also had several years of abstinence to make up for.
Without intending to, he was gently massaging the soft flesh under his hand. And Lois was responding, her mouth questing blindly over the skin of his shoulder. She lifted her leg over his, pressing herself against his side.
He could tell the instant she woke. She let out a faint gasp as she registered that what she had no doubt thought was a dream was solid reality. Clark waited for her reaction, half expecting her to roll away in embarrassed denial and steeling himself against the frustration when she did.
Her hand left his shoulder and whispered slowly down over his chest, exploring and stroking. He let out his breath in a muffled groan and his hand tightened involuntarily. Her fingers drifted lower...
"Again?" she murmured.
He grimaced. She would be disgusted by his libido. Besides, they couldn't do this - they had to talk. And after they'd talked, they wouldn't be doing this again...
But she didn't seem to be perturbed; her hand was still exploring, her caresses sending shock waves through his body and into his brain.
He had to stop her. "No, go back to sleep," he said thickly. His voice was at least an octave deeper than usual. "You don't need to -"
"But I want to." She sounded faintly surprised at the fact, but her breathing was shallower, her scent getting stronger. He cast about for some way to put her off, but her mouth started to rove over his skin and he couldn't remember why making love again was a bad idea.
He groaned and surrendered, drawing her soft warmth against him and kissing her hair.
No more words were spoken, but her body moved over his in the darkness, teaching him new steps in the oldest dance of all.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The sun was high when Lois opened her eyes. A shaft of light was spilling between the heavy brocade curtains, illuminating the deep pile carpet. Lois watched golden dust motes dancing in the beam for several seconds as she worked out where she was; then she carefully inched herself over to look at the sleeping figure next to her.
He was gone.
There was a dent in the other pillow, but it wasn't even warm.
Puzzled, she sat up and strained her ears. There was no sound from the bathroom. The living room, perhaps? But her instincts were shrilling at her that Clark was no longer in the suite. He'd walked out, leaving it...
... empty...
She stamped down firmly on the faint stirring of self-pity. She liked her living space empty, she reminded herself. Whenever Lucy came to stay at her apartment they inevitably ended up fighting. And she really hadn't been looking forward to sharing a bathroom with a man for the first time - especially under such strained circumstances.
Swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, she caught sight of a folded sheet of paper on the nightstand. She picked it up; her name was inscribed on it in Clark's firm handwriting. She unfolded it.
"Lois,
"I have to go to work. You're not stirring - I guess you have some sleep to catch up on. I'll be back around seven.
"Clark"
She ignored the way her heart sank at the curt wording. Of course he'd had to go - she'd simply forgotten that he didn't also have the weekend off. And he'd be back.
So he was still angry... that didn't matter, she told herself staunchly. The chill around her heart when she thought of how he'd looked as she'd punctured his romantic fantasy, his face growing cold, the laughter dying in his eyes, was just remembered fear. And his desire to punish her had gone no further than making her sign that contract... and that wasn't forcing her to do anything she wouldn't have done without it.
Anyway, the only alternative would have been to tell him about her condition and ask him to help her out of pity - and that just didn't bear thinking about. Lois Lane hadn't clawed her way to the top of her profession by exposing her weaknesses, and especially not to ambitious male colleagues!
No, she'd chosen the right way - the only way - to do it. The blow to his male ego would ensure that he was never tempted to spread the story of their dirty weekend around the newsroom. And if he despised her for using him, and still more for agreeing to sell her body in return... so much the better. That just made it more certain he'd walk away from her once the deed was done.
Was she already pregnant? She leant back against the pillows and ran her hand over the swell of her abdomen, wondering. She wasn't sure how long it took... but she could hope that Clark was virile enough to have got her pregnant right away. His wounded ego hadn't prevented him from putting in quite the virtuoso performance, she thought, feeling a hint of a satisfied smile - or was it a smirk? - tug at her lips.
And she hadn't done so badly herself, in spite of all her fears. Phase three had ultimately succeeded, after a few hiccups, and phase four had surpassed all her expectations.
Definitely a smirk, she decided. Claude had been quite wrong - in the right hands, she was anything but frigid. In fact, she was quite thrillingly responsive.
Claude had prided himself on being a stud, as she'd discovered when he'd moved in on Jenny in the typing pool two days after Lois's own encounter with him; but Clark was obviously far more experienced than Claude. Or perhaps it was just that he cared about his partners' pleasure in a way Claude never had...
A cold feeling had woken in her stomach at the thought of Clark's other sexual partners. But that was ridiculous, she scolded herself. She should be grateful to them for teaching him to be so skilful, so thoughtful.
Did she measure up to them?
She dismissed the thought, getting briskly out of bed. Clark certainly hadn't been complaining last night, any more than she had. And if she was, well, inexperienced at giving and receiving pleasure... she'd just have to learn as quickly as possible. While she had the opportunity. Which was at least another two days.
It was eleven o'clock -
eleven? She never slept this late! But then, she never spent half the night making lo... having wild sex, either. They must have been at it till after four, at least. So now she only had to find some way to occupy herself - which shouldn't be difficult in a luxury hotel - and Clark would be back in about eight hours.
She'd be ready.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
.../tbc
