OK, this epilogue is in response to the appeal of several people to give closure to some loose ends they felt were left hanging in the last part of Starwood In Aspen. And while this might still leave some wanting to know more, I’ll save that for another story effort. It gives me reason to try a full-on nfic!
Thanks for reading!
Standard Disclaimer: All characters from “Lois and Clark” are the property of Warner Brothers and DC Comics. The song “Starwood In Aspen” (music and lyrics) written by John Denver. The story idea is mine, and no infringement on anyone’s copyrights is intended.
Starwood In Aspen – Epilogue
By Lynn M.
Clark stared at the white ceiling, his hands clasped behind his head. An icy breeze flowed through the window, but he remained immune to it’s chilling effects despite the fact that he hadn’t replaced the shirt he’d donated to Lois. He’d opened it a few inches, hoping that the cold air would aid him in his efforts to cool down. If it was helping at all, which he doubted sincerely, it sure was taking a long time.
It was curious, he mused with a small smile. His body felt no pain associated with extremes of temperature. Nor did he suffer when the trials of superhero-dom inflicted various and sundry injuries and stresses on his body. It was as if his nervous system was devoid of pain receptors or his brain has such a high tolerance for such stimuli as to render it ineffective. Yet he had discovered at a fairly early age that pleasure was within his grasp. Indeed, the lightest touch from the right woman had brought forth sensations so exquisite that they bordered on pain, unbearable yet enough to make him nearly mad with the desires and needs they invoked.
From what he’d learned in college biology, pain and pleasure were intricately linked, sensations sharing common neuron paths and stoking similar areas in the brain. The opposite sides of a coin, like love and hate, the two existed together in an imperfect balance, one never far from the other. It was why tickling was both painful and laugh inducing. And much like salt enhances the sweet, experiencing pain increased the sensation of pleasure, providing the contrast needed to heighten its happier mate.
How was it, then, that he had been blessed with the ability to enjoy one while avoiding the other? Perhaps it was payment for the burdens placed upon him with his other gifts. A consolation prize for being so different and suffering gracefully what that entailed. If so, he would take his prize and be happy with it. Very happy. In fact, he feared how his body might react if he had the ability to experience pain. The pleasure that Lois had wrought was bliss. He couldn’t imagine the experience should it be super-charged in any way. He’d surely go mad.
Lois. He sighed. Leaving her had been hard. More than hard. But she needed space, and he wouldn’t blow it all now by denying her some time to work things out for herself. It was why he’d stopped them from making love. When and if she ever came to him, it would be because she made a rational decision formed when her body was not possessed by the desire that led even stronger people astray.
He didn’t allow himself to think of what he would do if she came to him and asked him to summon Superman. His offer had been a bluff, but Lois was notorious for calling him on them. Then again, if she decided she wanted to stay with Scardino, he would insist that one of them leave anyway.
Clark glanced around the room. He hadn’t turned on the light, but the moon shone brightly enough to illuminate the furniture. It was a nice space, comfortably furnished with an easy chair in addition to the large bed where he currently reclined, propped up on several pillows. He started when he encountered a face staring at him, tensing reflexively until he realized that he was looking at a reflection of himself in a full sized mirror standing in the corner. Funny, he hadn’t noticed that mirror there the previous night.
Of course, he’d been a little preoccupied the previous night. As he waited for Lois, Clark let his mind wander, going over the events yet again as he’d done all day. He wasn’t sorry that things had ended up the way that they had. He was only sorry that someone had to get hurt along the way.
After Mayson had suggested that they take things to the bedroom where they were assured some privacy, he’d needed some long minutes to collect himself before following her. Drawing from deep inside of himself to a pool of steely determination that had gotten him through a lot of scary firsts, he left the warmth of the fire to journey to the bedroom. After all, he told himself, if he could fly, surely he could handle this.
He shut the door silently, his eyes growing accustomed to the dim light. A shaft of moonlight spilled through the window landing in a bright square on the floor. He didn’t hear Mayson and guessed she was in the adjoining bathroom. A cloud passed over the moon, dulling the puddle to a soft gray glow, and he stepped forward blindly, knowing that the bed lie somewhere straight ahead.
As he neared the center of the room, the cloud moved away, and the light source was replenished. He caught a movement, and Mayson stepped into the pool of silver light. It was if she had cued the cloud, directing it to provide her with a grand entrance.
She was dressed in a long, white negligee. The pale shine of the moon colored her skin a pure alabaster, and with her blond hair, she looked like a statue carved in pristine marble. He took in the length of her, from the tips of her toes peeking out from the satiny skirt to the thin straps holding her gown in place while exposing her creamy shoulders and a good bit of her décolleté as well. She looked beautiful.
“I was starting to wonder if you were coming,” she commented softly as she moved toward him, out of the bright light and into the dark shadows where he hid.
“Yeah, I just needed to take care of the fire,” he offered his excuse, his voice strangely rough. “Sorry.”
“It’s OK. I’m just glad you’re here.” She’d reached his position and laid a hand on his chest, between the open edges of his shirt on the smooth, bare skin. He flinched slightly, surprised by the coolness of her hand.
At his reaction, her eyebrows lowered slightly, a small frown creasing her brow. “You are here, aren’t you, Clark?”
He smiled and placed his hand over hers, trying to reassure her. “Sure. I’m sorry.”
Appeased, she smiled widely. “You don’t have to say that.”
“Sorry,” he muttered, then shrugged sheepishly. He just couldn’t help it.
Pulling her hand out from under his, Mayson reached up with her other hand and pushed the edges of his shirt apart. While she maneuvered the garment down his arms, she placed several small kisses in the center of his chest. He watched her bent head, strangely detached. The sensation of her warm mouth on his skin was pleasant, but still he felt as if he were watching something that was happening to someone else, and his reaction was merely what he would have expected it should be in that particular situation.
Dropping his now-free shirt from one hand, she stood on her tiptoes, kissing his lips softly. He responded with a gentle pressure, letting her move against him as she wished. Pulling back, she gave him a lazy smile. She slid her hand down the length of his arm, taking her time as she appreciated the contours of his biceps and triceps. Finally reaching his hand, she grasped it gently and pulled, walking backwards as she guided them to the bed.
When they reached it, she turned to face him and grasped his free hand with hers. Keeping her hazel eyes locked on his, she sat back on the edge of the bed, pulling him forward with the momentum of her descent so that he leaned near her face. It was only natural that he should kiss her, the position of their lips so close that to do otherwise would have been absurd. He leaned in to do so, pleased when she sighed lightly against his lips. So far, so good.
As the kiss continued, Clark wondered what he should do with his hands. She had released them to grasp his face in her hands, and they now hung uselessly at his side. Finally deciding that he would most likely need to use them if this was to reach its natural conclusion, he placed them on her shoulders, lightly rubbing the bare skin.
That decision proved to be a mistake, however, for with his massage he knocked the thin straps of her negligee, dislodging them from their precarious perch to slide over the rounded ends of her shoulders and down onto her arms. That resulted in the pointed slips of satin that covered her to slump slightly, giving him an unobstructed view of the tops of her breasts.
Clark blushed furiously, thankful for the dark that hid his reddening face. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, trying not to glance downward.
Mayson laughed softly. “Clark, it’s OK. I was hoping you’d figure out how this works.”
He laughed awkwardly, the sound silenced when she reached around his neck and pulled him in for another kiss. When her lips parted and he felt the tip of her tongue stroke against his lips, he opened for her immediately. The action elicited a groan from her and she laid back, pulling him down with her. The new position gave him something to do with his hands, supporting his weight as he leaned over her. One knee lifted awkwardly, glancing off the edge of the bed as he sought a place to rest it. Finally deciding that it belonged between her knees, he left it there tentatively.
Lifting slightly, she slid herself upward on the bed to rest her head on the pillows. He followed, keeping the same distance between them as if their bodies were two parallel lines never destined to join together. When she seemed comfortable, he leaned down, his hands planted on either side of her making the gesture feel somewhat like a push-up performed in high school gym class.
They kissed for several long minutes, and Clark waited for something to stir. Everything felt nice. Very nice. But none of it seemed to lead anywhere, and he started to get distracted. She’d been rubbing her hands up and down his back, dipping a bit lower with each pass until her fingers brushed against the top of his jeans. At this rate, she would be traveling over his backside fairly quickly, and he imagined he’d better be ready for such an eventuality.
At least Mayson seemed to be enjoying herself, he noted with some satisfaction. He started to think that maybe if he concentrated on giving her pleasure, he would find his own by knowing that he had that power. With that in mind, he lifted a hand and started to rub her upper arm gently, working up the courage to venture near the swell of breast still hidden by the white triangle of satin. Mayson moaned, and he patted himself on the figurative back.
Thinking that perhaps she might enjoy it if he kissed her neck, he turned his attention there. With small butterfly kisses, he started near her ear lobe and worked his way down. The fragrance that he’d come to associate with Mayson, a slightly sweet spicy smell, seemed concentrated in this spot, and he felt a tickle in his nose as he inhaled an especially strong whiff. He remembered that women often put perfume behind their ears and suspected that maybe she’d recently refreshened her supply. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy the smell. It was just that it was a bit distracting.
More determined, he moved back to her lips, but he felt the gentle pressure of her hand and pulled back immediately. Mayson scooted herself toward the headboard, struggling to sit up, and he removed the rest of his weight from her instantly. Swinging his legs downward, he sat on the edge of the bed and looked at her, wondering at her sudden change of heart.
“OK. Listen, Clark. I hate to bring this up because I imagine that in this situation, it could cause more problems. But it really seems that you’re kind of...hesitant...or something. I mean, out there on the sofa, you seemed really into this. But now...Is there a problem? I mean, are you having problems with...”
“No!” he denied vehemently, mortified that she sensed his awkward problem. “No. I mean, I don’t think so.”
She raked a hand through her hair, sending waves of blond away from her face. “Well, is it me? Am I doing something wrong?”
He hurried to reassure her. “No. You’re doing everything right. Really right, Mayson.”
“I don’t understand, then.” Mayson leaned against the headboard, placing her hands in her lap as she waited for his explanation.
He’d never before considered using it as a get-out-of-jail-free card, but Clark decided that desperate times called for desperate measures. He sighed loudly, ready to confess one of his secrets in an attempt to buy himself some latitude. “I guess I should have mentioned this before but, I’m not exactly the most...experienced guy around.”
“Experienced?” she echoed, her eyebrows raised in confusion.
“I haven’t actually...well, this is the first time...” he stammered, suddenly wondering what had possessed him to tell her this.
She gaped at him, her eyes become very large and round. “You mean you’ve never done...this?” She gestured at herself and then at him, sans shirt.
“Nope. Gotten kinda close a couple of times. But never...this.” He repeated her motions, indicating how far they’d come.
With a smack, her hand fell back heavily onto her lap. She looked away from him. “Oh, geez. Wow,” she said, making him feel even more like a freak. “Well no wonder you’re...hesitant.”
“It’s kind of embarrassing.”
Her head snapped back to look at him, and her eyes softened a bit, becoming less astonished. “Oh, don’t be embarrassed!” she rushed to assure him. “I think it’s kind of sweet. I mean, these days, it seems like every guy you meet only has one thing on his mind. It’s great to meet a guy who’s actually waited.”
“Yeah, well. It’s not exactly something I announce in the locker room.”
Mayson stared at him, as if he were some rare specimen that should be placed under a glass bell jar. He shifted uncomfortably, convinced that if this was the death knoll of any romantic intentions for the night, he didn’t know what it would take.
“So, Clark, if it isn’t too personal...” she asked with a note of curiosity.
“Mayson, I just told you I’m a virgin. I think we’ve gotten past ‘too personal’.”
She smiled sheepishly “Oh, yeah. OK. Well, you’ve waited and all. Why? I mean, what are...or were...you waiting for?”
Clark thought a moment, deciding between the real reason and the reason that she’d understand. It was a pretty clear choice. “I don’t know. The right woman, I guess.”
“I see. And since I’m here now, and we’re...” she gestured at them in what had now become the code sign for sleeping together, “does that mean that I’m the right woman?”
Oh, this one was so much tougher than why he’d remained a virgin. And once again, he wondered what demon had possessed his mind and convinced him that bringing this topic up could be anything at all other than tragic. Must have been the same guy who got him to agree to coming up to the cabin in the first place!
Clark sighed, trying to think his way out of answering a question that he himself could not figure out. Was Mayson the right woman? Probably not. But who was to say there was only one right woman for him? Could she be a right woman? He was banking on it. It was the only reason he was in that room at all.
Slowly nodding his head, he picked up a hand from her lap, giving it a tight squeeze. “I think so.”
“This is kind of a lot of pressure. I mean, being your first time. I hope I don’t disappoint you. I’ve had some experience, but not that much...”
“Mayson, stop worrying. Really, it’s no big deal.” As if to prove his point, he leaned over and kissed her.
She responded eagerly, but he felt as if the balance of control had shifted. Whereas before, she had been leading him, now she seemed to be looking to him to take the next step. And the next. Clark started to panic. He’d been relying on Mayson’s momentum to carry him through, and he really didn’t know if he would be able to propel this...adventure forward by himself. He only had his learner’s permit, for heaven’s sake. And now she was expecting him to drive an eighteen-wheel semi.
“Clark, I love you,” she whispered when he pulled back to give her a chance to breathe.
He felt his heart sinking. He didn’t want her to say it. He didn’t want her to feel it. “You don’t have to say it, Mayson.”
“But I mean it. I’ve known it for a while. And when you invited me up here, I was kind of hoping that you might feel the same way.”
The near pleading tone in her voice ripped through him, sending waves of guilt that made him slightly nauseous. He would never lie to a woman about something so important. He would never lie on principle, but along the spectrum of lies, he viewed this as one on the most vile end.
And he would never lie to himself about it either. He didn’t love Mayson.
“I do care about you. A lot,” he whispered, kissing her to stifle any protest she might offer in response to his less-than-adequate reply.
At first she was slightly stiff, unyielding. But in a few moments, her hands lifted to wrap around his neck. He knew then that it didn’t matter to her if he loved her or not. She would take what he would give her and be happy with it.
It wasn’t any use. He just couldn’t do it. He didn’t love Mayson. He wasn’t going to love her. He loved Lois. And having a right woman wasn’t enough for him. It had to be the right one.
Reaching up, he gently grasped her forearms and unwound them from his neck. He pulled back, giving her a sad smile in response to the question in her eyes.
“I’m not the right woman, am I Clark?” she said, as if reading his thoughts.
Clark turned to sit on the edge of the bed, putting distance between them. “Mayson, it’s really complicated. I really care about you. And I really want this to work. But...no,” he choked a bit, then cleared his throat, shoring up his courage. He’d made this mess and he had to face up to it. “No, you’re not.”
“Is there a right woman?”
“No. Yes.” He shook his head, trying to explain the situation as gently as he could. “I mean, no, I’m not dating anyone else.”
“But there is someone else?”
She was right. It didn’t matter if they were dating or not. There was someone else where it counted most. In his heart. “Yes.”
Crawling on her hands and knees, she climbed off the bed. Reaching for the lamp on the bedside table, she clicked it on with a sharp snap, and the light that flooded across the room nearly blinded him.
“Well. I guess that explains a lot. Why you were always holding back. Why you never wanted to do...this,” her gesture at herself was a jerk.
Blinking to clear the spots dancing in front of his eyes, he started on his litany of apologies. “I’m sorry, Mayson. I never wanted to hurt you. I thought I could forget about...well, I thought we might have something great. And we did, I think. I mean, you are a wonderful woman. Smart. Gorgeous. Really great. And any man would be lucky to have you...”
She placed her hands on her hips in a move very reminiscent of Lois, fire flashing across her pale eyes. “You know, do they teach you that stuff in high school? Platitudes to use when you break up with your girlfriend? Is it a required class or just an extracurricular thing?”
In his whole life, he’d never imagined that the emotion he’d be feeling when confronted with a curvaceous blond wearing nothing but a negligee would be contrition. But she was right. Everything he said sounded stupid and condescending. “Mayson, I’m not trying to placate you. I really mean what I said.”
“Well, thank you, Clark. I feel so much better now.” She crossed her arms tightly across her chest, looking at the floor by his feet. “Listen, I really think I should leave. I mean, I know it’s, what, two a.m. but I don’t think I could face Lois and her smirk tomorrow morning.”
He jumped off the bed, nodding emphatically. “Sure. Of course. I’ll drive you home.” He’d have offered to fly her home if he thought she’d endure Superman for the brief trip, but given the current circumstances, he didn’t bother.
“What I want to know is why you invited me up here in the first place? I mean, couldn’t you have dumped me back in Metropolis? It would have saved us a really long drive.”
Clark winced at the anger in her voice, knowing that he deserved it but hating it all the same. In his life the only women who’d ever been really mad at him had been his mother, when he used her favorite guest bath towels to dry off their dog who’d been recently skunked, and Lois, who was more often mad than not. Having Mayson’s fury directed at him, no matter how well earned, made him feel like he was three inches tall.
“I never planned on dumping you. When I asked you to come up, I planned on this,” he made the gesture, a move that seemed somewhat tasteless now. “Just like you did.”
“I see. There’s someone else, but you figured that I’d do fine as a stand-in. Was she busy this weekend?” Mayson bit derisively.
“I never thought of you as a stand-in. Like I said, I really care for you Mayson. And I thought that it was enough,” he finished lamely, realizing how bad it sounded even as he said the words.
“Enough to sleep with me? You don’t love me but you like me enough to sleep with me. Kind of along the lines of ‘she was really ugly so I put a bag over her head and it worked out fine’.” Mayson had started to pace, and Clark wondered if she would actually go so far as to throw something at him. Lois would, but Mayson had always proven to be a bit more level headed. “Clark, maybe you’d better stick with platitudes because you’re really blowing this big time.”
He wanted to sit down, and he glance behind him at the bed. Deciding that that wouldn’t be the best choice, he crossed the room to the arm chair and perched on the edge of it. He needed to find a way to explain so that she’d understand. She deserved that. And maybe in explaining it to her, it would gel in his brain into a form that he could actually grasp and keep hold of.
“Mayson, I thought that if I cared for someone enough...cared for you enough...” he specified when she stopped pacing to glare at him, “it wouldn’t matter if I didn’t...love you. And I thought maybe if I took the final step, it would bring us closer together. Then maybe I would...love you.”
She seemed somewhat mollified by his admission, abandoning her trek across the floor to look at him steadily, like a teacher with a delinquent pupil. “But now you know that it doesn’t work like that. You can’t fake love, Clark. You either feel it or you don’t.”
“And I guess I have to feel it to do this,” he lifted a hand, then dropped it when she gave him an exasperated stare.
“Most guys don’t need to feel love to sleep with someone, but I guess you’re the exception. And as pissed as I am right now, I have to respect that. A lot.” Mayson gave him a small smile, making him feel a little bit better. “In fact, it’s part of what really attracts me to you. That you won’t say anything just to get laid.”
“I’m just sorry that I hurt you, figuring all of this stuff out.”
“Believe me, I would have been hurt a lot worse if we’d gone through with this and then you dumped me. Now I’m only marginally humiliated,” she muttered, glancing around the floor of the room. “Would you please turn around.”
Clark looked at her, confused, and she gestured at the clothes laying in a soft pile on the floor. He blushed, realizing that she wanted to change, and turned away quickly. He walked to his own shirt, scooping it off the floor and shrugging into it slowly. As he buttoned it up, he wondered if he should leave the room. He was about to do just that when she spoke.
“Clark, just tell me one thing,” she asked from behind him. “If it weren’t for this other woman, do you think, I mean, do you think you might have...?”
He knew the answer immediately, but in deference to her feelings, he pretended to mull over her question for a few minutes. Finally, he shook his head, glancing over his shoulder carefully. “I don’t think so, Mayson. There are things about me that you don’t know. Things that I don’t think you’d ever be able to accept.”
“What, are you a criminal or something?” she snorted.
“No, of course not.” Assured that she was decently covered, he turned back to face her, feeling that she deserved to know the truth. She’d donned her jeans and was working on her shirt. He noticed the satin negligee pooled on the floor and winced, guilt shooting through him. “It’s just, when I’m with you, I don’t feel that I can completely open up. Tell you everything about myself and the way I really feel about certain things. Like I have to hide stuff because you wouldn’t understand.”
“You don’t trust me?” she asked, stopping her efforts to get dressed to stare at him.
“Mayson, honestly, I don’t think there’s anyone I completely trust,” he admitted, telling her something that he hadn’t told anyone except his parents. Not even Lois.
She looked at him for a long moment, and he thought he detected pity in her hazel eyes. “I feel sorry for you, Clark. That makes for a lonely life, if you can’t trust anyone.”
“Yeah. I know,” he agreed sadly. She didn’t know the half of it. “Listen, Mayson. I know you really want to get back. And I promise I’ll drive you. But it’s starting to snow, and I’m kind of worried about the roads. If we leave now and have any problems...well, it is the middle of the night. Would you mind if we waited until it’s light?”
She glanced at the window as if she needed visual confirmation to his claim. When she saw the flakes hitting the panes, she sighed and her shoulders dropped slightly. “No. I suppose it’s been a horrible enough experience without the extra bonus of getting stuck in a snowdrift in the middle of nowhere.”
“I’ll sleep on the couch,” he offered quickly.
“Yeah. I’m thinking that’s a pretty sure bet.”
He turned before he opened the door. “Mayson. Really. I am sorry. For everything.”
She looked up from where she was working to button her blouse to give him a sad smile. “I know Clark.”
They’d left as the sun was breaking over the tree line, and other than occasional observations about the condition of the road, they remained pretty silent for the two hour duration of the journey. They’d already said all that needed to be said. He’d dropped her at her apartment, giving her one last apologetic smile before she had turned and bolted up the steps. Long after the door had shut behind her, he had sat in the Cherokee, staring ahead at his hands grasping the steering wheel tightly. And it was an odd mixture of guilt, regret and relief that filled him when he took off back for the cabin, flying high above the clouds.
**
Lois leaned against the door frame, watching him silently.
“Hey,” he called softly, brought back to the present when she cleared her throat slightly.
“Hey.”
He sat up, drawing his knees upward and resting his arms on them casually, doing his best to affect a nonthreatening pose. It was kind of hard to pull off considering he still hadn’t put on another shirt and sat bare-chested like he was ready and waiting. “I thought I heard someone talking.”
“Yeah, I was on the phone.”
“Oh.” He tried not to look anywhere but at her face. He’d noticed how good she looked in his shirt, her bare legs long and silky below the plaid flannel, and it was better for both of them if he just avoided that particular view.
“I called Dan,” she explained.
“Hmmm.” After years of discipline, it had been fairly easy to resist the urge to eavesdrop, so the fact that he had guessed who she called was a fair win.
“I told him I was going to stay up here until tomorrow.”
Clark released his breath, not even aware that he’d been holding it. He wouldn’t need to be calling Superman. At least not for a little while. “Did you tell him that Mayson went home?”
Lois crossed her arms in front of her, frowning slightly. “No. I didn’t figure it was any of his business.”
Shaking his head, Clark slid to the edge of the bed and stood up. “Lois, he should know that we’re up here together, alone. It’s not fair to...”
She took a step forward, holding up a hand to stop him. “I’ve made my choice, Clark.”
“You have?” he asked, forcing himself to sound completely neutral. Really all he wanted to do was grab her and kiss her until she knew that he was the only one she should be with.
“Yep. It was pretty easy, actually. I just started thinking through this whole thing logically.” Lois started to make a tour of the room, taking in the bed and the chair, running her finger along the top of the long dresser, all while she explained her logic. “I didn’t sleep with Dan because I don’t love him. I mean, I just never wanted to that bad, and when I finally figured out why, it all made sense. And with you, well, I mean, you were there!” She nodded her head in the direction of the living room, indicating their interlude in front of the fireplace. “It’s pretty obvious how bad I...wanted to. With you. So I figure, since I seem to want to sleep with you so badly, it must mean something.”
He watched her walk around the room, trying to understand what she was saying in such a convoluted, around-the-bout way. “I see. If not wanting to sleep with Dan means you don’t love him, then wanting to sleep with me means you...”
“Well, yeah,” she said, satisfied with his summary.
He chuckled. It was such a Lois way of doing things. “I wonder if Hallmark would be interested in putting that on a greeting card.”
“Clark!” she stopped to glare at him.
“Lois, I think I know what you’re trying to say. And as much as I admire your deductive reasoning skills,” he skimmed her appreciatively, giving her a devilish grin, “and as much as I would love for you to give me my shirt back right now, I don’t think that your logic is sound. Just because you want to sleep with someone doesn’t mean that you love them. It means that you’re physically attracted to them. And normally, that would be enough. Really, you don’t know how much I want that to be enough. But it isn’t. I need...”
During his rant, she’d moved to stand directly in front of him. Now, she placed a finger on his lips, silencing him. “Clark, I love you.”
He grasped her hand, resisting the urge to place her finger in his mouth and suck on it. Instead, he lowered it, but he didn’t let it go. “Lois, based on what you just said, you don’t love me. You want me. I can’t believe I’m saying this!” he muttered, disbelieving that he’d ever have this kind of conversation with this woman.
“No, I love you, Clark,” she insisted.
“It’s lust, Lois. Good old fashioned lust. We’re in a remote cabin, half naked. It’s lust.”
“Clark, I know what I feel,” she retorted, her voice growing louder. “It’s love. Yeah, there’s a whole lot of lust in there, too. But I’m pretty sure it’s love.”
His eyes narrowed as he eyed her skeptically. “More love than lust?”
“Well, if we never made love, which I hope is just a huge hypothetical to make a point here,” she trailed her finger down his chest, sending a shiver straight down his spine, “I would still love you. So I guess it is more love than lust.”
“Are you sure?” he whispered, his voice slightly choked both from the weight of what she was telling him and the sudden surge of heat that had traveled through his body faster than...well, faster than him.
“It took me eight weeks of fighting it, a trip to this cabin, and watching you make out with another woman,” she teased with a glimmer in her eye that he hadn’t seen there in over two months. “But yeah, I’m sure.”
He grinned at her, taking her other hand to hold it tightly against his chest. The mischievous glint left her eyes to be replaced by a seriousness that sent his heart racing.
“Seriously, Clark. I was fooling myself, just like you said. I knew it when I realized that Dan couldn’t hurt me, but you could. Now don’t say it because I already know,” she stopped him as he opened his mouth to protest. “You would never hurt me intentionally. That’s not what I’m talking about. I don’t love Dan, so nothing he could do would ever cause me a lot of pain. But you...well, I’m afraid that whether I like it or not, you’ve got the power. I can argue against it all I want but it doesn’t change the fact. And after tonight, I don’t really even remember why I would want to fight it. Seems like there’s an awful lot of good stuff between us, and I’d rather focus on that than be afraid of what bad stuff might happen.”
“Lois...” he started, ready to tell her about all of the good stuff he was going to make happen.
She kept going, the seriousness pushed aside to reveal a lighthearted Lois that made him catch his breath. “So I guess you’re stuck with me ‘cause I just told Dan that I didn’t think we should see each other anymore.”
“Lois...” he choked.
“And I have absolutely no idea how we’re going to get back to Metropolis tomorrow. You may have to call Superman even though I really hate to bug him with something so stupid...”
Laughing out loud, he thought about just kissing her to make her stop. “Lois, would you just shut up.”
“I love you, Clark,” she whispered, her eyes shining brightly.
“Oh, Lois. God, I love you,” he groaned as he pulled her against him, leaning down to capture her sigh.
When he pulled back, he grinned at the expression of wonder on her face. Her eyes were closed, her lips parted slightly. She looked please, and when she licked her lips as if savoring the taste of him, he bent down, ready to sweep her on to the bed.
Sensing what he was about to do, she opened her eyes and laid a hand on his shoulder, stopping him. “So, I know that nothing really happened in here, but still, it is where you and Mayson were last night. And the fire was kind of nice, so maybe we could move this back into the other room.”
He kissed her lightly, then a little more intensely. “What did you have in mind?” he murmured against her lips, pulling the lower one inside his mouth to nibble on it gently.
Against his chest and stomach, he could feel Lois’s hands making methodical movements, like the fluttering of a butterfly traveling down his skin. He paused, curious. As he pulled back to see what she was doing, she twisted nimbly, escaping the circle of his arms. He caught the flash of creamy back as she ran from the room, the billowing plaid flannel falling like a parachute on to the floor.
“There’s your shirt,” she called out with what he could have sworn was a giggle.
Clark smiled right before he raced after her.
The end.
