TOC found here**There is an nfic version available for this chapter.**
Chapter 16: You Put Your Arms Around Me and I'm Home~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Mid-March 199723 Days Since Clark Came Home"I never thought that you would be the one to hold my heartBut you came aroundAnd you knocked me off the ground from the start...You put your arms around me and I'm home..."
Arms by Christina Perri~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
As she stood near the doorway to the porch waiting for Clark to finish saying good night to Kallie, Lois had no idea why she was feeling nervous...or maybe it was excitement...or maybe...
This dress. She'd loved it when she'd modeled it in the store for Martha—a sleeveless wrap dress that came to her mid-thigh—but now she couldn't help but feel slightly self-conscious. It'd been a long time since she'd dressed up, and she'd had a different body then.
Martha had assured her it looked fabulous, the wrap-style coming together in a v-neck that...well, it covered her new nursing bra just fine, but she suddenly felt like her breasts were a bit too big and ready to spill out. They weren't. Martha had told her as much when Lois had fretted about it fifteen minutes ago, and she'd also reminded Lois that it was quite all right to show off her body a little for Clark if she wanted to. Lois had blushed furiously and swatted her on the arm, but took the compliment and advice.
And the look on Clark's face and the flush of arousal she felt from him when he'd first seen her in it just a few minutes ago...well, there was no denying he found her attractive exactly as she was.
Still, the jitters remained, as if somehow this was their first date all over again, and in a way, it was. At least she'd worn burgundy this time.
She couldn't help but take another long look at him from across the room, feeling her pulse skitter along her body and her breath quicken slightly as she drank in the sight of him in a new charcoal suit, a crisp white shirt, and a tie she hadn't seen before. A small shiver of arousal raced through her, and she bit at the corner her lower lip to stifle a gasp.
It'd been so long since she'd seen him in slacks and a tie, let alone a suit, but she wasn't surprised he'd stolen her breath away. The suit, sure—he'd never not looked good in a suit, especially once he'd been able to afford having them tailored—but there was something about him and the way he was holding Kallie, swaying with her in his arms just one last time, he'd said, before handing her off to Grandma and Grandpa for the evening.
Seeing Clark like this, so carefree and natural with a baby in his arms—
their baby in his arms—tugged at her heart in a way she couldn't put words to. She had never wanted kids until she'd met him, until he'd made her realize what love could be like, until she'd experienced the world as he lived it.
The emotions welled up in her throat, and she forced herself to take a deep breath, her heart aching that he'd lost that—the seemingly simple way he'd lived and approached life. Sure, she knew it had never been nearly as simple or carefree as it looked, but Clark had always held a certain innocence about him, an innate goodness and sense of justice and morality. He'd lost that up there; they'd taken it from him. She had to hold fast to the hope in her heart, knowing she would so often have to carry the weight of this, of all that had happened, at least until he was strong enough.
He couldn't know it, not right now, but she found her strength in him. The sight of him with Kallie, watching him love her and marvel at her. Watching him fight so valiantly to stay alive, to hold onto what was left of himself. Watching him do the bravest thing Superman had ever done.
Kallie cooed and gurgled her delight at Clark's kisses and tickles, and Lois' heart squeezed pleasantly. "You're going to make us late for our reservation," she teased him, knowing full well now that he'd spent half the day secreted away in the barn with Martha, transforming it for the date he'd asked her on only a few hours ago. She could hardly wait to see what he'd done.
Clark laughed freely, and her heart squeezed again as she tried to savor, memorize the sweet sound of his laughter. Then she reminded herself—there would be more; it wouldn't be so infrequent now. All the same, she still replayed the sound in her head and let it fill her heart all over again.
Martha finally gathered Kallie up and shooed Clark away. "Go! Don't keep your beautiful wife waiting!"
Wife. The word was heartwarming and saddening all at once. Yes, they'd all but married themselves before he'd left, and in her heart, he was and forever would be her husband, and she his wife, but it was hard sometimes to mourn what had been taken from them.
It didn't matter, she reminded herself as Clark strode toward her. He was alive and home and they would be okay. That was all that really mattered.
"You okay? You ready?" he asked, the husky timbre of his voice and his warm hand on the bare skin of her upper arm making her shiver slightly.
She nodded and they bid their thanks and goodnights to the doting grandparents, who were already headed off to the living room with their charge for the evening. Her breath caught when his hand slipped down to the small of her back as he opened the screen door for her and ushered her through.
Oh God, she'd missed that. Oh God. Suddenly, she found herself holding back tears she didn't know what to do with. And as they made it to the porch, the screen door falling shut behind them, he was pulling her into his strong, warm arms.
"Hey," he whispered against her hair, his hand stroking up and down her back against the material of her dress. "What's wrong?"
She buried her head in the crook of his neck and inhaled deeply, taking in the smell of him and trying to memorize that too. "You touching me again, loving me, all the little things I didn't realize I was missing. I need you so much, Clark. I don't know how I survived so long without you."
She could feel his heart clench and his guilt start creeping in, but mostly she could feel his love for her, surrounding her and trying desperately to make her feel safe and protected.
"I'm sorry," he murmured.
"I know," she said, wrapping her arms tightly around him.
For a long moment, he just held her as they stood on the porch, swaying them slightly as he rubbed her back and placed soft kisses against her hair. She half wondered where he'd gotten this strength, this reprieve from all the emotions that were too much, but all she cared about right now was that she was in his arms and she could feel him, feel their connection, strong and thrumming.
"I miss touching you." He said it simply and without agenda, but the way she felt in his embrace, his body close against hers, and the gentle rasp of his voice made her shiver in anticipation.
"I don't think I ever realized just how much you did touch me. A hundred small touches every day...how loved and safe that made me feel even before I could admit it to myself." Needing to see his eyes, his beautiful face, she pulled back a little to look at him. "You were so patient with me," she said, her voice small and wistful.
He brought his fingers up to brush back the strand of hair that had fallen already from her pinned up hair. "You were worth the wait."
"So were you," she assured him. His fingers were lingering below her ear, and she could feel the sadness, the wistful regret in his heart. It was in her own heart too...hundreds of days gone, thousands of touches lost...
<<I'll make them up. Every one.>> His husky voice in her mind sent warmth flooding through her body, and her breath caught as she felt his lips get closer to the dip of her neck.
Almost unconsciously, she tilted her head to allow him unfettered access, wondering if he would actually count them all. His lips whispered against her skin, the lightest of caresses, first along her neck and then again on her shoulder and her collarbone and behind her ear, loving and not meant to tantalize but making her heart race all the same.
The need to kiss him was overwhelming, and she found and framed his face with her hands, bringing his lips to hers and attacking with abandon. They both had making up to do, and now that he'd finally opened up to her, their connection open and free, she felt as though she was starving for his touch.
She whimpered lightly into his mouth, reveling in the sound of the breathy moans he was making as she felt his hand wander, returning to the small of her back and pressing gently against her.
"Get a room, you two! Or better yet, a hayloft!"
They both startled at the yell coming from through the screen door, and as the words filtered through their passion-filled haze, Lois started giggling, breaking her lips away from Clark and then laughing into his chest.
"Mo-om! Were you watching?" Clark whined.
"Oh, Clark, of course not! But I happened to walk by the door and notice that you two hadn't even made it off the porch yet. I didn't spend hours helping you out this afternoon just for it all to go to waste. Now, off to the barn with you two!"
Lois giggled again and lifted her head. "Yes, Mom," she said and then grabbed Clark's hand and put it back where it'd been on her lower back. "C'mon, honey. We don't want to be grounded."
Clark still protested weakly at the indignities as Lois started walking with him down the steps, Martha's peals of laughter following them out into the night. Lois could sense the light in his heart despite his embarrassment, and she found herself flooded with the feeling of immense and profound love she had for him.
She paused, just as they reached the barn doors, and turned to look at him. "Clark..." she said softly as she reached up to touch his face, her fingertips tracing across his smooth jawline. She struggled to find the words, but nothing could come close to describing what she felt in this moment, so she just closed her eyes and felt it instead.
Her eyes opened again when she felt his hand on her cheek, and the look on his face took her breath away. "I know," he said. "Me too. So much." His thumb brushed away a stray tear she hadn't quite realized had fallen. "C'mon, we don't want to be late." His eyes were twinkling and her heart squeezed and twisted, trying to stay in the moment instead of wondering how long it had been since she'd seen such light in his eyes.
Clark had opened the barn doors wide, and when she looked up, she gasped at the sight before her. Thousands of tiny fairy lights glittered all through the inside of the barn, strung across the ceiling along the rafters and from the loft spaces in a pattern that almost mimicked the stars in the sky. "Oh, it's beautiful, Clark. So beautiful. It's ...wonderful." She could feel her voice breaking and fresh tears as she took in the rest of the view, his hand settling again on her lower back.
Jonathan's workbench and tools had been neatly tucked to the side, the main floor area made clear with a small, round table in the center, complete with a flowing white tablecloth and two place settings. Domed covers hid and kept warm whatever dish he'd prepared for them, the lights around the barn catching and multiplying on the shiny surfaces. Martha's record player had been moved from her studio to the workbench, where a small selection of records waited to be played. And scattered about the room were little potted flowers in white and pink and pale purple, a bit out of place still in their plastic containers, but still beautiful.
As if anticipating her question or maybe reading her thoughts, he answered. "I, uh..." He ran his free hand through his hair. "I'd thought of rose petals across the floor originally, but that seemed...uh, Mom had the idea of getting some like this from town, and said we could plant them in the garden after."
Lois' breath caught again, but she shouldn't have been surprised at how well Martha knew her son, how she could have guessed—even not knowing the full account of things—that life and new growth would serve them a million times better for decorations. "It's perfect," she said, turning once again to face him. "Thank you."
He reached up to wipe her tears away, his thumbs stroking her cheeks gently as his hands cupped her face, and he pressed a tender kiss on her forehead. She could see his slight hesitation before speaking, as if he had something more to say, but he simply told her, "You're welcome."
They stayed a moment longer, staring into each other's eyes, and she wondered at the depth of emotion in his eyes and in his heart—an overwhelming love, but tinged with...some measure of sorrow. Not for the first time, she wished she could take his pain away, that they could just be at the part already when all of the bad seemed so far away. "Kiss me, Clark."
Without hesitation, his head dipped to capture her lips, achingly gentle at first and then with more intensity as she wrapped her arms around his waist underneath his suit coat and melted into him. Unlike their kiss on the porch, this held grief that she tried to meet with compassion, regret that she met with understanding.
<<I love you no matter what. Always.>> Her kiss faltered slightly as she focused on the thought, but she needed him to know, not just feel it but hear it, that he was hers forever, just as he was.
Finally, they pulled away breathless, and he rested his forehead against hers for a moment, letting his hands slide down her neck and across her shoulders, and then he drew her into his arms, hugging her close. "What would I do without you?" he whispered.
She squeezed him tighter. "You'll never have to find out."
A long moment passed as they let the strong emotions ebb away, and then Clark seemed to gather himself. He led her to the table, making a gallant show of helping her to her seat and pouring them each a glass of chilled Pinot Grigio. Before he sat himself at the table, he walked over to the workbench and set the needle down on the record he'd already loaded up on the turntable, and the soft doo-wop notes of
I Only Have Eyes for You carried through the barn.
She smiled, her heart skipping a beat as he moved his chair and sat himself next to instead of across from her, as if he'd changed his mind from when he'd set up the small table earlier.
He ducked his head a little as he moved his place setting and meal, and she could feel a tangle of apprehension and shyness from him. "It was too far away," he said, his voice soft.
She nodded, almost a bit anxious in her agreement, as she put her hand on his knee and scooted her chair just that much closer to him. It
had been too far away, as if they were both suddenly worried that something would separate them once again. "So, what did you make us for dinner?" she asked, hoping to distract them both from their unease.
But before he could even answer, she blurted out, "Do you think it's because it's been so long since we've been on a date? That it's awkward—no, not awkward. I mean, oh God, why am I nervous, Clark? You've made this wonderful dinner for us and—" She looked around again at the almost magical appearance of the barn, so many lights that they seemed to twinkle. "It's so magical, so perfect. Why are we scared?"
"Because I don't want to screw this up," he said, his voice breaking slightly.
"You can't, honey! It's perfect. Absolutely perfect. I'm the one that's screwing things up, being an emotional wreck instead of just relaxing and letting my husband wine and dine me under the stars." She swiped at the few tears that had escaped. "You don't need this. This is the last thing you need, for me to start crying all over you!"
"Honey...no, it's okay. It's okay."
"I slammed the door in your face. You gave me a perfect date before, and I slammed the door in your face."
"Lois, it's okay. We made it. We're here. It's okay."
"But...all the time we wasted—
I wasted. If I hadn't denied my feelings for so long. If I hadn't gotten so caught up in being right, being safe. If I'd just..."
<<...then maybe none of this would have happened. Maybe we wouldn't be where we are righ—>>The next thing she knew, he'd drawn her up to standing and pulled her into his arms, her head tucked securely against his chest as her tears soaked into his shirt and tie, his hands smoothing over her back. "Shhh. Lois, oh, Lois."
<<I love where I am right now.>><<But how?>> she asked, her voice a whimper of a thought, not wanting to move from where she was, not wanting to look in his eyes and find him stretching the truth just to make her feel better.
<<How can you possibly...you went through hell and back and...>>His hands halted his ministrations and she felt him straighten, and her heart sank. Part of her desperately wanted the lie, wanted everything to be okay...
But then his hand was at her chin, encouraging her to look at him even though she wanted to stay safely tucked in his embrace with her head against his chest, feeling his heart beating soundly against her ear. She shook her head. If she didn't move, nothing had to change and he didn't have to lie to her to make her feel better.
"Please...please look at me," he urged softly.
She took a shuddering breath against his shirt before she finally lifted her head to look up at him. Her face felt flush from the crying and she could feel the dampness still on her cheeks.
"When I was up there..." His voice was quiet but rough. "At least at first...I kept waiting for this incredible feeling of connection...like I was exactly where I belonged."
Her heart clenched, knowing that he'd wanted nothing more than to connect with his roots, find his heritage...to belong.
"That feeling? That's only happened to me once in my life." He cupped her cheek and brushed his thumb over her damp skin and threaded his fingers through her hair. "The day I met you."
A soft gasp escaped her, and she felt as though her heart might burst and overflow.
"So, yeah," he said, his voice more firm but still thick with emotion. "I love where I am right now. Back in your arms. Where I belong."
"Oh, Clark." She rested her forehead against his, for a moment overwhelmed, her arms still holding him close.
He continued stroking her cheek with his thumb and brought his other hand up to frame her face fully. "Lois, I know where my home is, and it's right here in your arms."
Without hesitation, she melted back into him and held him tightly, as if reaffirming his words and letting him know that she was never going to let him go again. His arms wrapped around her smaller frame, and she let out a deep, shuddering breath against his still tear-dampened shirt.
<<Home,>> she thought, pressing herself even more closely against him.
<<Always.>> <<Mine.>><<Forever.>>He kissed the top of her head, and she could feel his heart, just as overflowing as her own. Then he simply held her, his cheek coming to rest against hers, and he swayed them gently to whatever song was playing—something soft and slow—as his hand made gentle circles at her lower back.
His voice was soft, almost a whisper in her ear when he started singing along. "Whoa, my love, my darling...I've hungered, hungered for your touch...a long, lonely time...
<<Me too, love. Me too.>> Her heart clenched and she snuggled in closer.
"And time...goes by...so slowly...and time can do so much...Are you still mine?"
<<Always.>>Lois couldn't help but smile and laugh lightly as he tried to hit the next notes, and he only sang a bit louder in response. She could feel his smile against her temple as he continued to sing. And then they were laughing in each other's arms, still swaying as the song faded out.
"Are you trying to imply my singing isn't wonderful?" he said, laughter still evident in his voice.
She giggled into his shoulder before looking back up at him. "Well, I wouldn't quit your day j—I'm sorry. I'm sorry, honey. I didn't mean...I know you're not ready, and I didn—"
"Hey," he interrupted softly. "Shh. It's okay." His words were meant to comfort her, but she knew he wasn't unaffected. The light in his eyes had dimmed, the merriment of just a moment before fading to the background—there was no pretending they didn't still have the weight of everything hanging over them.
She hugged him tightly before pulling back just a little to regard his face once more, bringing a hand up to try and smooth away the worry from his brow. "You don't have to hide it. We're probably in for more than a few of these moments. We'll be okay."
Clark gave her half a smile and nodded, taking a deep breath, and she felt like he was going to say something else, but instead he cleared his throat and suggested they go ahead and eat. "At least we don't have to go inside to heat things up," he quipped half-heartedly, taking off his coat to hang on his chair as they sat back down.
"Definitely a plus." She smiled warmly at him. The casual reference to his powers was a little surprising but welcome and made her heart just that much lighter. Other than flying himself off to the treehouse and surely some super strength when helping Jonathan with the fence, it was almost like he had been avoiding his powers.
But he didn't need any pressure about it, especially right now, not on their first date in almost a year. Instead, she rejoiced in watching him give their food a little zap, her heart twisting at the sight of him pulling down his glasses just so and staring at their plates in turn. As the steam rose from their pasta primavera, she sat back to let him regale her with the tale of how he'd picked all the vegetables fresh, straight from the garden and Martha's greenhouse.
She grinned at him. "If I thought there was any chance you'd believe me, I'd claim to have helped grow these vegetables. But Mom was far too wise to even let me pretend to help."
He laughed heartily. "Definitely a smart decision. I've seen your house plants and the poor thing on your desk that used to be a plant."
"She wouldn't even let me water them!"
"Honey, do you know
how to water plants?"
"Hey!" She swatted him on the shoulder and he pretended to flinch.
"What?" he asked, his face the picture of...well, not of innocence, that was for sure.
"Knowledge of a skill is wholly separate from having the time and inclination to practice said skill."
He was tilting his head and arching an eyebrow at her in that adorably sexy way he did, and she was having a hard time keeping a straight face.
Now it was her turn to ask. "What?" She squared her shoulders in mock defiance but only succeeded in drawing his eyes to her chest.
"Watering plants isn't a skill. It's a daily task! It requires zero skill."
"My point still stands."
"And that was...?" he asked, raising his eyebrows at her again, except this time it was more suggestive than the last.
"I don't remember," she said, jutting her chin out defiantly and crossing her arms under her breasts, being sure to push them up just a bit for his viewing pleasure.
For a long moment, he didn't speak, and she could see he'd started breathing more heavily, his shirt pulling taut across his broad chest with every breath. Excitement fluttered in her belly at the thought of what was under that shirt.
If she was honest with herself, their verbal sparring matches had always been exciting. But they'd never been...
exciting. Not like this.
"Lois..." he rasped.
Her breath caught and every part of her started to tingle with arousal. She swallowed hard and uncrossed her arms, her hand quickly finding and settling on his thigh. How she'd ever managed to keep her hands off this man for two years, then wait another year before making love to him for the first time, she'd never know.
But then her heart squeezed with the feeling of utter yearning and loss, an echo of the sharp pangs of grief she'd felt at the beginning of their date...
She
hadn't ever kept her hands off him, and there had never been a day gone by that he hadn't touched her, either.
A hundred small touches every day...
Desperate for his touch now, she found herself falling towards him even as he rushed in to crush his lips to hers. What must have been his fork clattered to the table, quickly forgotten as he devoured her with kisses and threaded his fingers through her hair. She whimpered into his mouth, her heart racing and her body flooding with warmth and desire. The hand she had on his thigh crept higher of its own accord, and her other hand was at the back of his neck, tugging him impossibly closer.
And then her stomach roared and gurgled loudly, startling them both apart.
Lois straightened in her seat and tried to catch her breath, her fingertips trailing across his thigh as she slowly brought her hands to her own lap. Clark, for his part, had his eyes closed and his head tilted back, clearly trying to get himself back under control.
Half of a breathless laugh escaped her, and then she inhaled deeply, letting out the breath in a strong whoosh. Her stomach growled again.
Clark laughed, though he still sounded a touch out of breath. "I guess you're hungry."
She blushed furiously, wishing they hadn't been interrupted. "I...uh...the..."
"Breastfeeding," he finished for her. "You've got a much bigger appetite because you're breastfeeding."
Nodding, she looked at him with affectionate awe. "You read the books."
"Yeah," he said softly. "Mom brought them out for me, and I read through them all earlier today."
"Of course you did." She laughed. "It took me
weeks, maybe even months to read that stack. How long did it take you?"
His face scrunched up, clearly bracing himself for her reaction. "About ten minutes."
"That's
so unfair!" she said, swatting his shoulder again. She was hardly mad, though, and she smiled at him. It made her heart feel so warm and full to see the light back in his eyes. For however long she got to see it this time, she'd take the time to enjoy it.
Clark added just a touch more warmth to each of their plates before they both picked up their forks to dig in. He commanded most of the conversation, she figured in an effort to let her eat without too much distraction.
So while she attacked her pasta with gusto, Clark impressed her with more of his recently acquired knowledge of all things parenting and how to rear an infant the first year. She loved that he was so excited to share, and for a while, she could almost pretend that things were halfway normal.
Once Lois had polished off all of her serving and some of Clark's, she sat back fully sated and just sipped on her wine. "Mom liked to give me a hard time about all the parenting and baby research I did," she said, "teasing me that I might as well flag the whole book at the rate I was going." Lois chuckled lightly.
"Hey, I love your rainbow flags!"
"
Thank you!" she said, her hands flying wide to emphasize her point. "Now, please tell Mom that there's merit to a good organizational system!"
Clark laughed. "I don't know if I'd call it a
good system..."
"Hey!" she tried to at least be half-annoyed, but she couldn't keep from laughing with him. Then, like an afterthought, she doubled back on him, arms folding over her chest, an eyebrow raised. "Are things categorized? Can you find them?"
"Yes..." he surrendered.
"Then it's a good system!"
"Honey, I think that's only because I know how your mind works," he countered, his eyes sparkling.
"And your point?" She leveled him with a stare.
"You're right. Absolutely right. In fact, it's a
great system, honey."
"Well, now I feel like you're just trying to score points."
"And your point?" He leveled her own stare right back at her, a gleam in his eye.
Lois opened her mouth to answer, but she had nothing. She pursed her lips, trying not to smile, and all she could do was shrug and let her eyes wander suggestively.
There was a hint of mischief and more than a hint of desire in that gleam, and she could feel her arousal skittering back to life. Still, she'd be damned if she let him win this sparring match too.
But the gleam had darkened to a smoldering desire, she realized, when her shrug had brought his gaze directly back to her chest. She had to bite back a little moan at just the thought of how much he wanted her, and then when the flashes of images started in her head...
Oh God, the man had just invented a new kind of foreplay, and she was entirely unsure if she'd be able to handle it. But, oh wow...at least she'd die happy. Her heart started pounding as she watched his mental images playing out in her own mind...of him lavishing her with attention in all sorts of delicious and passionate ways.
She relished the feeling, her body reacting as if he was really caressing her neck and laying kisses in against her skin.
"Clark!" she cried, her voice a strangled moan that startled them both out of the fantasy.
They were both panting heavily, still sitting in their own separate chairs at the table.
"I'm sorry," he finally said, his voice hoarse.
"Sorry?" She looked at him carefully after dropping her hands to her lap. "Why would you be sorry?" Her pulse was still pounding, and she'd thought...
"I, uh...I didn't realize I was...broadcasting?"
"Oh," she said, flushing anew with warmth and ducking her head slightly. "I guess we need to...practice this telepathy thing. But, Clark?" she prompted, touching his hand lightly. "I one hundred percent didn't mind the...uh, show. It was almost like I could feel you touching me. You never have to apologize for wanting me."
She watched his eyes darken. "I was wondering why...uh...what was..." He scrunched his face a little.
She gave him an encouraging smile. "It's okay. You can tell me," she said as her fingers started stroking gently over the back of his hand.
"It was longer...the thought...er, I mean. Normally, when I think about you..." He ran his free hand through his hair and took a breath. "It's usually just a quick, stray thought...oh, this is awkward...and I'm not sure how to even explain..."
Lois felt the heat in her body rising again. She was pretty sure she knew exactly what he meant. "Like when you catch a glimpse, some look or movement, and it's sexy even though it wasn't meant to be? Because it's not always the obvious that turns you on, and sometimes your mind lingers...wondering what it might look like if the clothes weren't there? Where you might put your lips, your hands?"
Clark swallowed visibly and nodded. "How did you...?"
Closing her eyes and concentrating, she brought to mind a memory of Clark working at his desk, just a few short feet away from hers in the newsroom. He'd rolled his long sleeves up that afternoon, an infrequent treat to see his forearms, and he had a pencil tucked behind his ear as he typed away at his computer, occasionally wrinkling his nose in frustration. Taking a sip of coffee without looking, it was no wonder that he spilled a bit on his tie and shirt, but all he did was put the mug down and absentmindedly brush at the spots of wetness. She'd known what was under that shirt from almost day one; she knew, and so it wasn't hard to undress him with her mind, letting her fingers trace over the smooth, hard planes of his shoulder and pecs and then bringing her mouth to taste his skin with the traces of coffee spilled...
Lois opened her eyes again only to find Clark staring at her, his mouth agape and his heaving breaths stretching the material taut across his chest again. "You...you fantasize about me?"
"Is that really so hard to believe?"
"But that was..."
"Before we were dating. Yep."
"You've mentally undressed me at work before?" He seemed disbelieving or maybe just in shock. "Before we were even dating?"
"Clark? Have you
seen yourself without a shirt on?" She raised her eyebrows at him.
He nodded dumbly, but then let his eyes wander over her body. The heat that followed in the wake of his gaze made her wonder if he was using his heat vision on her. But it could just as easily have been her desire, his desire, starting to dance and meld together through their connection.
Without warning, his memories of early this morning flashed through her mind—and she was finding it hard to breathe, watching from his perspective and feeling his experience even while her own memories of their heated lovemaking consumed her.
<<Clark, touch me. I need you,>> she whimpered in her mind, needing desperately to feel the warmth of his hands and lips on her instead of just the memory. No matter how intense it was.
Instantly, she found herself standing in his arms, her body flush with his, his hands at her lower back pressing her firmly against his hips as he attacked her mouth with unrestrained need. Tongues thrusting and lips moving, desperate to show each other exactly how they were feeling, needing to connect on every single level possible.
He moaned into her mouth as they continued to kiss, one of his hands coming up to cup her cheek so that she'd slant her lips against him at just the right angle.
<<I've more than hungered for your touch...>>She whimpered again, pressing herself closer to him, and her hands set off on a desperate quest to touch him skin to skin. She tugged at the back of his shirt, loosing it from the waistband of his slacks, and then she found and caressed the warm skin of his back. Her reward was a low, breathy moan against her lips.
<<Need you. Need to touch you...>> Somehow even his voice in her head was rasping, thick with want.
Before she could process any further thought, she felt the stark loss of his heat for seconds as she heard and felt him whooshing about. Then suddenly her back was against a soft surface, her body propped in repose by whatever was beneath her, and she could feel the delicious weight of Clark's body as he settled himself above her.
His lips were back on hers instantly, tasting, caressing, exploring, so it took a long minute for her to process where they were. The fairy lights were still there, so they were still in the barn, but she and Clark were much higher up. "Clark?" she said as his lips started making their way across her chin and down her neck.
"Mmm hayloft," he murmured against her neck as he alternated between kisses and exploring with his tongue across her collarbone.
"No hay," she managed to breathe out.
His smile was against her skin. "No animals."
Her hands moved restlessly through his hair. "Then is it still a hayloft?"
"Mmhmm, technicality."
She hmmm'd a bit in mock disappointment, though it came out sounding more like a moan. It was probably so much better that it felt like a pile of blankets beneath her instead of hay.
Still focused on his task of driving her mad with want, Clark kissed his way up to the other side of her neck and behind her ear before he spoke again, the breath of his words against her skin sending a thrill down her back. "Need hay? I could...go get...hay...two minutes..."
"You...I need you," she breathed as she found his face and tugged it back up to her lips to get lost once again in his kisses.
Clark shifted his weight slightly to the side, freeing up a hand to trail it enticingly down her side and past her waist and hips to her thigh. Her hunger for him only increased as she felt his hand slip under the hem of her dress and his fingertips dance slowly up her thigh.
She whimpered once more as their hands and lips explored each other's bodies, and she half-wondered if it would always stay this way now, feeling so starved to touch him and be touched by him. Or maybe that was just how it was for...well, they were effectively newlyweds, no more than a handful of actual, cumulative days they'd had to make love and learn each other's pleasures.
Oh, she wanted to spend a lifetime loving and exploring his body and he hers. When she felt his hand start to explore higher, a thought tugged at her mind. She tried to brush it away to focus on the way he was loving her instead, but it persisted.
Finally, she managed to pull her lips away from his and took a second to catch her breath before speaking. "Talk...we have to talk about birth control."
His hand stilled and when he looked in her eyes, she could see just how very darkened with arousal they were. Still, he nodded, and then slowly, he pulled his hand away and propped himself up, his elbows on either side of her head, and rested his forehead against hers.
After a few deep breaths, he pulled back just enough to look in her eyes again. "I...wondered...worried a little...when I read the books today. It said something about breastfeeding suppressing ovulation for a time, but...?"
Lois nodded, still breathless herself. "Yeah, it's not...even close to a foolproof plan."
She could feel the apology coming before he could even try to voice it, and she shook her head. "No guilt. No regrets," she said softly.
"But what if...I mean...we already...several times..."
Her heart twisted a little, and she couldn't help but wonder if he...surely, he wanted...but...She gave him a small shrug and a gentle smile as she looked into the depths of his eyes. "We got carried away...we needed...connection.
Needed. It was a matter of life and death, Clark, and if that results in another life, then..."
She felt her heart flood with his gratitude and love as he dipped down to crush his lips to hers, a long and loving kiss that almost seemed to be filled with hope too. When he came back up for air, his expression was so tender, though she could sense an underlying worry. She worried too. It was far too soon, wasn't it?
"I know," she said quietly. "I know it's too soon. We need more time to heal, to reconnect. So, we can...from now on, we can use...I bought some when I was in Wichita last week." She smiled at him, feeling all out of sorts that she was nervous talking about protection. With her husband. Whose body was so very warm and wonderfully on top of her. "We can move to the bedroom, or you could go—"
"Later," he cut her off, the word a husky demand that sent sparks of desire through her body. But then his face softened. "Sorry, I mean, not yet...I want...I want to do something else first. There are other ways to make love without...intercourse."
Lois' heart flooded with love and desire for the man above her. And this time, here in the hayloft without any hay in sight, the lovemaking was all about Lois' pleasure.
What seemed like an impossibly long time later, she was suddenly in the solid comfort of his arms again, a blanket covering them both.
<<If I could breathe, I'd tell you I love you,>> she thought, a sated smile coming over her.
He chuckled as he nuzzled at her neck, sounding a little breathless himself. "I love you too," he whispered in her ear. "God, how I love you." His arms pulled her in, just that much closer, and she'd never felt more protected and safe and loved and complete.
<<Your arms are like home to me,>> she told him. And though she knew in her heart he'd never leave her ever again, she felt the desperate need for his reassurance.
<<Promise you'll never let me go.>>"Never, my love." He feathered light kisses against her temple and on her cheek. "I'm yours forever. Promise."
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