Author's note: There is an nfic version of this chapter. I strongly recommend reading it. The progression of their physical relationship is an important part of the plot of this story, and while we have done our best to translate the emotional content to this pg-13 version, some things are inevitably lost in translation. There are only a handful of chapters in this story that will require an nfic rating, but we want to be clear that the nfic version is the "complete" version of this story, and that those scenes are not "bonus" scenes added just for fun. Lois unlocked the last lock and pushed open her front door, leading Clark into her apartment. It was nearly midnight. Perry had held the front page as long as he could, but Luthor was still unaccounted for, and the authorities were just as baffled as they had been earlier.
They had looked at the mockup of the front page before they left – the headline screaming about Luthor’s escape; the subhead announcing his connection to the arsons and Toni Taylor’s death. Months of research and drudgery and freezing stakeouts had all coalesced into this, and her heart raced as she looked at her byline under that headline, knowing no other paper in the world was going to have anything other than Luthor’s escape tomorrow morning.
Any big scoop gave her a reporter’s high, but she was practically flying tonight. And having Clark beside her had made the night so much sweeter. She had felt terribly guilty at first, but as the day wore on, it was clear that he was enjoying himself every bit as much as she was. And as usual, he always seemed to know exactly what to do or say to make her day better.
Having him at the desk across the aisle, working with her, had been exhilarating. She had always worked alone; had always insisted on working alone. The few times she had been paired up with another reporter for a story had been painful for everyone involved. But tonight he had brainstormed with her, and edited her story, and teased her about typos…and she had loved every second of it.
She dropped her work bag by the coat rack and hung up her coat, then turned to him. He was standing, bags in hand, waiting for her to give him direction.
“Let me show you my guest room,” Lois said. “You can put your stuff down.”
She had warned him already that the guest room was tiny – not even technically a bedroom by real estate standards since it didn’t have a window. But there was enough room for a daybed, a nightstand, and a small dresser. It had been fine for Lucy, and Clark insisted it was more than enough for him.
He had offered to stay at a hotel again when they were planning his trip, and she had told him she didn’t want him to waste his money on that and would be happy for him to stay with her. That was really only a half truth. She had loved staying with him at his house so much the previous month – falling asleep in his arms on the couch, coming down each morning for coffee with him. She couldn’t bear the thought of him staying in a hotel, and she was relieved when he agreed to stay with her despite the less than spacious accommodations.
He followed her down the short hall, and she gestured to the open door of the guest room.
“This is great,” he said, setting his bag down near the foot of the bed.
She looked at him skeptically.
“Seriously,” he said with a laugh. “It’s perfect.”
“I’m glad you think so,” she said. “Now, I have to get out of this suit and these heels right this minute before I lose my mind. I never would have worn these shoes if I’d known I was going to be at work for sixteen hours. I’ll be out in just a second.”
She tilted her head toward her bedroom door, and he smiled in acknowledgement. She crossed the hall quickly, closing the door behind her and stepping out of the heels immediately. She carried them to her closet, where she stripped off her suit and breathed a sigh of relief as she wiggled out of her pantyhose. So much better.
The bra had to go next. She had chosen a bra this morning based on looks over comfort, opting for a lacy black number in the hopes that their afternoon activities might include some quality time getting reacquainted. It made her feel sexy and beautiful, and even if he didn’t see it, she knew it would give her a boost of confidence. But instead of making her confident, by the end of the night it only made her itchy. And she was pretty sure it was cutting off blood flow to her extremities.
She slipped her black silk top over her head and tossed it in the laundry, then reached behind her back and popped open the clasp. She sighed with relief, and then laughed at herself.
She walked back to her bedroom and pulled open her pajama drawer. She sifted through the options, smiling when her hand landed on a two piece set, a sleeveless top and pants in creamy white. It was loose and flowy and not intentionally sexy, but the material was so thin and soft it felt like wearing nothing at all.
She slid the top over her head, smiling as it fluttered around her, so comfortable after being in that tight bra and suit all day. She swapped out her black panties for white and then slid the pants on as well. Perfect.
She walked back to the closet and tossed the black panties in the basket, then stood in front of the mirror, turning one way and then the other to assess. She looked casual and comfortable, but definitely not frumpy. The thin material skimmed all her curves, drawing attention without being obvious.
Her heart rate sped up as she imagined how his hands would feel, gliding over this material. Under this material. Her mind flitted back to his eyes on her legs earlier and that delicious but far too brief kiss in the conference room.
She shook off the memories and headed for the door, eager to find him. So far, he had proved time and again that reality was better than fantasy. She had spent the last month fantasizing, and she was ready for reality.
She expected to find him in his room getting comfortable or on the couch watching television, but he was in the kitchen when she emerged, pouring water from the tea kettle into two mugs with tea bags in them.
“Hey,” she said softly.
He lifted his eyes from the mugs to her, and she saw him inhale deeply.
“I made tea,” he said, unnecessarily.
“Thanks,” she said with a smile.
She made a detour on the way to the kitchen, stopping by the bag she had dropped by the front door to fish out her pager. She carried it with her to the kitchen, popping off the back and removing the battery. She tossed it in the trash and pulled out a fresh battery pack from the junk drawer.
“Not taking any chances?” Clark teased, sliding her mug in front of her.
“This would not be the night to miss a page,” she confirmed. “You want to go sit on the couch?”
He nodded, and she led the way, tossing the pager on the coffee table and sitting sideways, one leg bent, facing him. She cradled the warm mug in both hands, and watched him set his mug on the table and get comfortable.
He turned to her, and she watched as his eyes took her in, drifting down to her shirt and then jerking back up to her face abruptly. The top left little to the imagination, the way it draped softly against her bare skin, and she knew by the look in his eyes that his imagination was filling in those details. He studiously kept his eyes on her face though, as if he wasn’t allowed to look. As if she hadn’t worn this so he would. Desire for him crackled through her, this sweet man who treated her like something precious.
“Did you have fun today?” she asked. “It seemed like you were having fun.”
“I had so much fun,” he said, with a self-deprecating smile. “It was like something out of my high school fantasy book.”
She laughed, wondering what other fantasies were in that book. “Well, you managed to charm the entire newsroom. No surprise there.”
He rolled his eyes, but there was no hiding that smile.
“Is it always like that? When there’s breaking news, I mean. Not on a regular day.”
“Pretty much,” she said. “It depends on what kind of breaking news it is. But that chaos you walked into is pretty standard for a major breaking story. And honestly, the hours of waiting around for a source to call or something else to happen is pretty standard too.”
“It was…exhilarating,” he said, turning to face her more fully.
“Ah, so you’re an adrenaline junkie too,” she teased. “It’s my favorite part of being a reporter. That chase…right at the end when you are about to break something big.”
“You just enjoy berating people,” he teased. “I would not have wanted to be whoever you were on the phone with when I arrived.”
She laughed, thinking back to remember who she had been yelling at when he arrived. “The head of the mayor’s crime taskforce. That taskforce is a joke. It’s been six months since he put it together, and all they do is announce regularly that crime is getting worse. I was not in any way interested in his canned response.”
“You certainly made that clear.”
She lifted her mug to her lips, but it was still too hot to drink. She blew on the steaming liquid, then set it down on the coffee table and rested her hands back in her lap.
“Everyone in the newsroom is terrified of me on nights like these,” she admitted. “I can be a bit…intense.”
He burst out laughing. “You don’t say.”
Her eyes went automatically to his mouth as he laughed, and she ached to feel his lips on hers again.
“Were you scared?” she teased.
He shook his head, still grinning. “I’m not scared of you.”
“Good,'' she said, lowering her voice. “I don’t want you to fear me.”
He raised his eyebrows, and she could see that he had registered the change in the tone of her voice. “Oh? What do you want?”
“I want you to kiss me,” she said, breathless with anticipation.
He didn’t make her wait long. As soon as the words were out of her mouth, his lips were on hers, and his hand was stroking her back.
His lips clasped hers again and again, sending sharp pangs of needs coursing through her body. She brought her hands up to his cheeks, fingertips gently stroking his face, his cheeks just the tiniest bit scratchy. She pulled away, hand still on his face, just far enough to open her eyes and look at him.
“Hi,” she said softly.
“Hi,” he said, his mouth curving up into a sweet smile.
“I barely even got to say that today. I had this whole plan for our day. I’ve been looking forward to this for so long. I missed you so much,” she confessed.
“I missed you too, honey,” he said, stroking her hair.
She pulled him back to her, intent on showing him how much she had missed him. He lowered his lips to hers again, and her happy sigh turned into a sharp inhalation as his tongue darted forward to explore her mouth. Their kisses became more frantic, needier, as their hands began to explore.
Her mind whirled with the sensations he was creating in her. His hands roamed her back, settling at her waist, and then dragging her closer, until she was pressed against him, arms around his neck, hands in his hair, whimpering her approval against his lips.
“I’ve been dying to do this since I dropped you off at the airport last month,” he mumbled against her mouth, and she smiled triumphantly, reveling in his desire for her.
Her head fell back, and she moaned softly as his lips found her neck. He hummed happily, his lips vibrating against her skin, and she could feel an echoing vibration in all her most sensitive spots.
“Clark,” she whispered, reverent and desperate all at once.
He tore his lips from her skin and dropped his forehead against her neck instead, his breathing shallow and ragged. “God, I love when you do that,” he said, his voice low and gravely with desire.
“What?“ she asked, pulling away just enough that he lifted his head, and she could see his face. He looked at her confused, his eyes hazy, and she realized he probably didn’t even know what he had said.
“What do you love?” she asked, stroking his cheek. Whatever it was, she would do it a thousand times, a million, to see that look on his face again.
He smiled, a bashful look stealing across his face. “When you say my name like that,” he admitted. “I still can’t believe you let me touch you. That you want me to touch you.”
She laughed gently, then leaned forward and kissed him long and deep. “Oh, trust me,” she whispered when she finally pulled away, and his lips found her neck again. “I want you to touch me.”
He could not be real. There was no way. He was too perfect. This was too good. She had never felt like this before. His touch set her on fire. She couldn’t get enough of him. She left one hand in his hair and ran the other down, over his shoulder, past the cuff of his sleeve to find bare skin.
He groaned against her neck as she began to trace his muscles, fingertips gliding over his soft skin. His hands had been still, one on her back the other still holding her hip from when he had dragged her to him. But now they fluttered restlessly, like he needed to move them but wasn't sure what to do with them. The hand on her hip slid up over the silky fabric of her top, spanning her ribcage, and she felt his thumb brush the bottom of her breast. He let out a strangled moan as he slid his hand back down an inch.
She loved how gentle he was with her, how he never pushed and never made her feel guilty for taking it slow. Even before they were officially dating, when he had sat on this couch and watched movie after movie with her, he held her and cuddled her and never once pushed her for more, even when it was clear she wanted more as much as he did. Even when she cried as she said goodbye, he soothed her with his words and his touch rather than urging her to make a decision she wasn’t ready to make. She loved that about him. She loved the way he took his time with her, never rushing her, always holding back his own desire to make sure it matched hers. But tonight, she didn’t want him to hold back.
She reached for his face, guiding him back to her lips, and arching her body into his, trying to tell him she wanted this as badly as he did, that he didn’t have to be so careful with her. He kissed her enthusiastically, his hand gliding along her ribs.
She tore her lips from his, drunk on his kisses, and let out a strangled whimper.
“What, honey?” he whispered, his breath coming in short pants. “What do you want?”
She whimpered his name, writhing in his arms, incoherent with wanting.
“Lois?” he whispered again, his hand stilling.
“Touch me,” she finally managed to say, and the way his eyes rolled back and his jaw clenched told her he knew exactly what she wanted.
She expected him to kiss her again and then let his hand slide north to the place she had invited him. But instead he sat back, waiting for a second, his gaze dropping intentionally from her face to her body. He was still for a moment, just looking, and she saw the hunger in his eyes as he let himself really look for the first time. And then, slowly, tenderly, he slid his hand up. It took her breath away, the look on his face as he touched her. his face filled with wonder and tenderness and barely restrained desire.
His gaze drifted to hers, and she could see everything in his eyes. The way he adored her, cherished her, was right there with the passion that threatened to overwhelm them both.
It was her undoing. Not just the touch, which sent shockwaves of desire through her, but the way he took his time and savored her, and she lunged for him, propelling herself into his lap, straddling his legs. Her hands went to his cheeks, holding him steady as she kissed him. He held one hand on her hip, keeping her from sliding closer into a more intimate position, and she felt the hand start to retreat, caught off guard by her sudden assault.
She covered his hand with hers and returned it to its previous position, and he groaned into her mouth. That act had finally snapped his restraints, and he brought his other hand up from her hip.
“Oh god, yes,” she cried, her body trembling. She whimpered his name, and wrapped his arm around her waist, dragging her close, giving her what she obviously wanted. What they both obviously wanted.
He groaned her name, and she understood exactly what he meant earlier about loving the way she whimpered his name. Hearing her name in his voice when he was so clearly losing control was the sexiest thing she had ever heard.
“Clark,” she whispered, calling him back to her.
He lifted his head, eyes unfocused, face full of wonder.
“Look at me,” she whispered. He did, and her heart swelled painfully in her chest. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she realized that they should probably slow things down, that things had progressed a little further than she’d originally intended for tonight, but oh, it felt so good to be with him like this, and she had missed him so very much….
A moment later, Clark made the decision for them, dropping both hands to clutch tightly at her hips, stilling her body even as he moaned into her mouth. And with another deep gasping breath, he slumped back against the couch, moving her entire body off to the side to rest next to him.
When Lois looked up at him, her own heart racing, she could see he was working hard to slow his. His head was tipped back against the sofa, his eyes closed, as he took deep, gasping breaths. Another thrill went through her as she realized exactly what she was seeing — a man on the edge, working hard to get himself back under control.
It was probably wrong to be aroused by this … to feel the rush of sexual power that made her feel giddy and breathless herself, all at once. She had done this to him, just as he had done it to her. Oh, how she adored him. Loved him. She could admit it now, even if only to herself. It was too soon to say it out loud, surely, but within the privacy of her mind, she was finally willing to admit what had been sneaking up on her for some time … she was completely in love with this man. And she trusted him completely.
“Baseball statistics,” she whispered in his ear, her arms winding back around his neck. “Sixty years of Heisman trophy winners, in order, starting from 1935.”
Clark barked out a laugh. “You are a menace.”
She giggled, running her fingers through his hair and breathing hotly in his ear. “States in alphabetical order. State
capitals in alphabetical order.
Backwards.”
His large body shook with laughter. “Lois. Oh, god, you’re going to kill me."
“Mmm, but what a way to go?” They laughed together, and she settled her head against his neck, arms around each other as they breathed together, their hearts gradually slowing.
Eventually his hand came up to cup the back of her head, and she lifted her face to meet his. He kissed her softly, slowly. “I utterly adore you. You know that, right?”
She couldn’t have kept the smile from her face if she’d tried. “Me too.”
“Really?”
“Yeah,” she said with a little laugh. They kissed again, a little longer, until Clark pulled back yet again and rested back against the sofa. She trailed her fingers along his cheek and then his neck. “I’m so glad I met you."
He laughed softly, and she looked at him questioningly. He gazed at her adoringly and stroked her cheek. “I’m so glad you gave me a chance. I was head over heels from the very beginning, and so sure it was hopeless. I was thinking earlier about when we met in Miami, and how sure I was that you were going to walk away and never think about me again.”
She exhaled noisily, remembering the way she had warred with herself. Her fingers stroked his neck, as she considered her response.
“I would have thought about you. I would have…” she trailed off. She wanted to tell him that she would have changed her mind. She would have looked for him. She would have reached out. But the truth was that she would never have been that brave. She would have suffered in silence. “I would have regretted that so much,” she said finally, the words catching in her throat.
“Oh, sweetheart,” he said, kissing her again, sweet and gentle this time. And she couldn’t help but think that she had almost missed this. Had almost given all of this up without even knowing what was possible.
When their lips separated, she twisted around, sitting beside him on the couch instead of kneeling facing him. She curled up against his chest, and he wrapped his arm around her shoulders.
“Are you going to tell me now what you have planned for tomorrow? Or do I have to wait until we get there?” he asked.
She laughed. They had struggled for ideas of how to spend this vacation. His first visit had been packed with city tours. And her visit to Smallville had come with a set agenda thanks to the festival. This time they wanted to just relax and spend time together, and Lois had been looking for something fun they could do together during the day that wasn’t necessarily a tourist attraction. She had finally landed on something perfect, but had been holding out on him.
“The Air and Space Museum,” she said. “They have a planetarium where they do shows that mimic the night sky above Metropolis.”
He was quiet for a second, and she turned to look at him. He was gazing at her in that way that always made her stomach flutter. “That’s perfect,” he agreed.
“Just no kissing like last time, Mr. Kent,” she said with a twinkle in her eye, lightening the moment. “I think they’d kick us out.”
“I’ll be good,” he responded with a laugh. “But to be safe…better wear jeans. Another dress like the last one would be far too tempting.”
She laughed and laid her back on his chest, so unbearably happy. He trailed his fingers up and down her arm, and she sighed and closed her eyes, so happy to be able to touch him again.
“It’s late,” he said softly, after a few minutes. She said nothing, just snuggled closer, not ready to leave his arms yet. He chuckled and hugged her tighter, resting his cheek on top of her head. After a few more minutes, she felt him turn his face and kiss her on the top of the head. “You’re going to fall asleep.”
“I happen to know that if I do, you’ll just carry me to bed.”
“Oh, is that your aim?” he asked with a laugh.
She giggled. “No. I still need to brush my teeth and get ready for bed. I just don’t want to move.”
“I know, honey. Me too. But I know you’ve had a long day, and you have to be exhausted. And I’ll be here when you wake up.”
She smiled and hummed happily. She had been looking forward to waking up and having him here since she had left Smallville. Slowly, she sat up and stretched, sighing heavily and she pulled herself out of his embrace. When she looked at him, he was shaking his head and smiling at her.
“What?” she asked, suspicious.
“You are so beautiful,” he said, laughing at himself. “You have no idea how flattering it is when you act like it’s torture to leave my arms.”
She laughed, then looked him up and down. “Trust me,” she said. “I know.”
He stood too, and they walked down the hall. She went into the bathroom first while he went into his room to change. She used the toilet and washed off the day’s makeup first, and when he came back out, she had opened the door and was brushing her teeth. He joined her at the sink with his own toothbrush, and she was surprised by how that tiny intimacy of brushing their teeth together felt so big.
When she was finished, she leaned against the door jam and waited for him to finish brushing his teeth.
“You ready for bed?” he asked softly, as he set his toothbrush on the counter.
She nodded, and he reached for her. She slid her hands around his neck and pulled him to her, smiling against his mouth and tracing her tongue along his lip, not content to settle for a chaste peck tonight. He gave in immediately, wrapping his arms around her waist and kissing her thoroughly until she was breathless and unsure her legs would support her.
He pulled away slowly, kissing her on the forehead. “Now you’re ready to sleep?” he teased.
She smiled at him sheepishly. “I might not have thought that through ahead of time.”
He laughed, and her heart exploded like fireworks through her body. She stroked his cheek and smiled at him again, then stepped back out of his arms. “Good night, Clark.”
“Good night, honey.”
She turned and crossed the hall. Her hand was on the door when he called her name, stopping her in her tracks. She turned to face him, waiting.
“Your pager. It’s on the coffee table.”
She burst out laughing, realizing that somehow, she had not thought once about Luthor or her story since he kissed her.
“Thank you,” she said, still laughing. He winked at her, and she knew he knew exactly what she was thinking.
He closed the bathroom door, and she walked back to the living room. She retrieved the pager, and then carried their untouched mugs full of tepid tea to the kitchen, dumping it down the sink and rinsing the mugs before returning to her room and crawling under the covers.
