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Like Bunnies

Author's Note:

This story is full of sexy, fluffy goodness. It is an indulgent piece of writing so very stereotypical of fanfiction stories. Which I have absolutely no problem with, because all stories don't have to be deep and long. Now that's one hell of an unintended double entendre. Anyway, on with the fluff.

Metropolis

"Don't scream."

Diana was going to scream.

"No, no, no, don't scream."

Yes, she was definitely going to scream.

Clark's hand, which had been gripping her thigh as he obliterated one sense after another with his powerful and unrelenting thrusts, came up to cover Diana's parted lips.

He thrust into her again—hard and grinding with a swivel of his hips that punctuated the erotic maneuver with mind-numbing potency.

How could she not scream, if he kept doing things like that to her?

Diana opened her mouth and clamped down on Clark's hand, biting it instead of screaming her pleasure to the proverbial rafters. He could handle a love bite from Diana, even one delivered with sharp teeth and quivering tremors of ecstasy.

More hard, grinding, swivel thrusts came, and Diana tightened the legs Clark had so effortlessly swung over his shoulders ten minutes ago.

Had it only been ten minutes? And how in the world had Diana come to be on a kitchen countertop, knees to her chest, and a grunting Clark buried deliciously deep inside of her?

As Diana threw her head back, a strangled moan caught in her throat, Clark's right hand still over her mouth, Diana was hard pressed to recall how she'd ended up like this.

Thirteen Minutes Ago …

Halfway to Themyscira, Diana cursed her forgetfulness. She contemplated continuing on to the island. Thinking better of it, she turned around and made her way back to Metropolis and Clark's apartment. At that, Diana smiled. It's your apartment, too, Diana. How many times are you going to have to keep reminding yourself?

Well yes, in a way Diana supposed Clark's apartment was now their apartment. And it had been so for all of six days. A full week come tomorrow.

As she cut a path of red-and-blue through the warm May air, making short work of the hundreds of miles left to go, Diana's smile grew. About two weeks ago, Clark had asked Diana to move in with him. They'd just made love. Diana was hot and sweaty and still coming down from her orgasm high when Clark rolled off of her, gathered Diana in his strong, masculine arms, and whispered in her ear, "Don't go. Stay here with me."

Diana hadn't understood Clark's cryptic words. But full mental functioning after an intense lovemaking session with Clark was too much to expect of her. God of War or no, Diana was a woman who'd been thoroughly satisfied and needed more than a minute or two to gather what was left of her body and brain.

So she'd blinked confused eyes at Clark and willed her foggy brain to clear and her body to halt its pleased dance of female satiation.

"What?" Not articulate or insightful, but it was the best Diana could do at that moment. She tried again, knowing her brain would kick more fully in if Clark would cease running his hands up and down her back and bottom. His hands and hard body stoked a flame that still sizzled hot and eager inside Diana. Leaning her head back from his, seeking a modicum of distance and perspective, Diana tried again. "What are you talking about, Clark?"

That tiny bit of distance and hard fought clarity shattered when Clark moved his head closer and claimed Diana's mouth in a wet, sultry kiss. A kiss that had Diana moaning into his mouth, wrapping arms around mighty shoulders and pulling Clark back on top of her. A kiss that scorched and seared what was left of sanity and common sense. A kiss that set off the simmering flame within, igniting it into a raging firestorm of Amazon wantonness.

An hour later, they lay on the floor instead of Clark's comfortable but sweat-drenched bed. Diana had no idea when they'd tumbled to the floor, but that was where they'd ended up—naked, panting, and spent.

"Move in with me."

"What?"

Shifting onto his side, Clark leaned up on an elbow, reached over and pushed strands of sweaty hair off Diana's forehead. Then he grinned down at her—sexy, sweet, and with open affection and love. She saw nervousness mixed in as well, but also confidence and hope.

"You said that already, Di. And while we both speak many languages, I'm certain I spoke in English."

"You did. Of course, you did. But …" Diana's tongue suddenly felt too large for her mouth, and her brain too small for her head. "What?" she repeated stupidly, when nothing brilliant sprung to mind. Hell, forget brilliant, when nothing at all but that four-letter question seeped through to her barely conscious brain. Her synapses not firing at all the way they should. Diana mentally floundered for another minute but managed to eventually say, "I already have a home, Clark."

His grin didn't lessen at Diana's less than sensible response. "I know you do, but I was thinking that you could also call this place your home. You can stay here, whenever you like. Bring a bunch of your stuff, not just that cute Vera Bradley overnight bag you use when you visit and plan to stay the night."

That dreaded four-letter word had popped into Diana's head again, but she'd regained enough control of herself not to blurt it out for a fourth time. She grasped Clark's meaning, his question. How could she not when he'd put it in the most basic and direct way?

"Well, what do you say? Or do I need to expound on all the reasons why I think it's a good idea and why you should agree?"

Diana also turned onto her side and elbow, facing Clark with languid eyes and a strange sensation of post-sex humor. "Did you read somewhere that the best time to ask your girlfriend a relationship-changing question was right after mind-blowing sex?"

Clark reddened from Diana's playful question, and she couldn't help but laugh.

"Clark, I was only teasing you. I can't believe someone actually wrote that or that you would read it and take it to heart."

"I didn't take it to heart. But now just seemed like the right time. You're happy and in a good mood." He shrugged a single shoulder. "It made sense at the time." Clark's beautiful blue eyes stared with earnestness at Diana. "So, what do you say? Are you willing to make this leap with me?"

By the time Diana entered Metropolis airspace, she'd finished reflecting on how she'd come to have Clark as a roommate. Using her key to enter their apartment, Diana walked in and spotted Clark in the kitchen. Bowl of cereal in one hand, spoon in the other, he looked unsurprised to see Diana. And utterly, painfully sexy, wearing virtually nothing, with bed-mussed hair and rippling muscles made for lifting, hugging, and holding onto during the most erotic of times.

She lifted her lips in a smile that was all for the man she'd made this leap of faith with. "I forgot my …"

Clark pointed to the countertop in front of him. "I know. Your lasso."

Yes, her lasso. She'd left her lasso. Diana never forgot the Lasso of Truth, no more than she did her twin bracers or tiara. Yet she had this morning. And she knew, as Diana made her way to the small kitchen area, the exact reason why she'd left it. Or rather, the person responsible for Diana's less than coherent thoughts before flying off to Themyscria.

Stepping in front of an immovable Clark, Diana snatched her lasso from the countertop. "Thank you for bringing it out here for me."

"You left it in the bed. I knew you would be back for it, once you realized."

Diana refused to blush at the mention of where she'd last been when she'd seen her lasso, especially with the way Clark's eyes kept dropping to her lips and then lower. Yes, well, he and his damn eyes, lips, and hands were the reason why her brother's magical rope wound up in their bed instead of the hook on Diana's hip where it belonged.

While Clark typed away on a story he'd been researching for a week, Diana had showered and dressed. She had a ten o'clock meeting with her council. Yet she hadn't made it more than five steps out of the bedroom before a Kryptonian blur flew at Diana, scooped her up, and deposited the stunned Amazon on the bed.

From there, well, clothes, boots, tiara, bracers, and lasso were stripped from her, replaced by Clark's hard, aroused form and hungry, supple lips. And Diana could do nothing but take another leap with Clark, her ardor a match for his own.

Two hundred plus pounds of Clark moved forward, the bowl and spoon no longer in his hands. He crowded Diana, moving in such a way as to press her against the countertop.

"It took you long enough to get back here."

A dark eyebrow arched at Clark. "I've been gone all of ten minutes."

"Which means you were taking a leisurely flight."

Yes, Diana had been. Even with their impromptu morning lovemaking, Diana had gotten up early enough to leave herself plenty of time to reach Paradise Island before the meeting. As queen, Diana had two action items on her agenda she wanted to accomplish before she met with her council. And while Clark's sexual attack had set Diana's schedule back by half an hour, that still left her with two hours. Which meant Diana didn't have to fly at maximum speed to reach the island. She could simply take a few extra minutes to revel in the glory of a new day and of being in love and living with Clark Kent.

From the predatory gleam in Clark's eyes, Diana knew Clark's intent. She was already shaking her head when he said, "It'll be quick. I promise. I just want a little taste." Pelvis pressed into her own, forcing Diana to acknowledge that Clark wore nothing but a pair of too-tight, too-sexy, and too-mouthwatering scrumptious pair of black spandex shorts. Leaving little to the imagination as to what he had going on inside of his shorts.

And she tried very, very hard not to moan at the blatant, sexual contact.

But failed, as well as Clark's enticing lower body had successfully aroused Diana to the point she barely noticed when Clark lifted her onto the countertop.

Now …

Oh, but the man felt so good inside of her. They shouldn't be doing this, not here and not now. They both had work to do, schedules to keep, and sanity to maintain. There was a whole, wide world that existed outside of this kitchen, this apartment, and Clark's arms.

Diana bit down harder on Clark's hand. She wanted to scream, to loudly exhale all the pleasure he was giving her. But Diana couldn't because, yes, she would be too loud and his neighbors would hear them. Months ago, Clark had soundproofed his bedroom, which was where they always made love. But since she moved in, they hadn't kept their amorous activities relegated to the bedroom. Which had resulted in more than a few polite and not-so-polite bangs on their walls, ceiling, and floor from their next door, upstairs, and downstairs neighbors.

Soon, they would really have to soundproof the entire apartment. But, for right now, Diana would try her best to not fall apart completely. Which was so very difficult to do with Clark stroking in and out of her, hitting Diana's sweet spot he knew so well.

She moaned—loudly.

He groaned—even louder.

Diana reached up and slapped a hand over Clark's mouth. It didn't help. His thrusts were growing faster and harder. The fingers of his left hand dug into Diana's upper thigh, as he moved forward and back in an intense rhythm that had Diana wondering if the countertop would hold up.

And his grunts and groans were turning more into primal growls.

"The bedroom," she gasped out. "Mmm, Clark, we need to go to our bedroom." Because Diana hated for either of them to suppress the vibrant feelings they invoked in each other, to not give in completely to the unexplainable and unavoidable way their bodies and hearts reacted to each other.

"Yes, the bedroom," Clark agreed, eyes closed, face taut with pleasure, hips slamming into Diana with a force that cracked the countertop. But Clark didn't stop making love to Diana, didn't cease that wonderful in and out glide that had her on the knife edge of greedy release.

She let go of his hand, and it fell away from her mouth only to find her right hip. With both hands gripping her tightly, Clark's tempo increased that much more, as did his bestial growls.

They were breathing heavily, moaning shamelessly and loudly, and racing toward a glorious completion that was so delectable in its fierce, fast intensity.

When Diana leaned forward to accept Clark's kiss, the lasso, she hadn't realized she still held, fell from her hand. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered when they got like this, so deep into each other, so attuned to one another's body, so anxious to reach that pinnacle moment of gluttonous bliss.

And they did, Diana and Clark wrapped around each other, kissing and loving like two mad hatters who hadn't seen each other in months … years. But they'd just done this, less than thirty minutes ago in their bedroom, on their bed, and just as boisterously as they were now. They ripped their mouths from each other in deafening rapture, the neighbors and cracked countertop cast aside for more important matters of the body.

Yes, yes, yes, Diana's body shouted, shivering and quaking from one orgasm to the next. Clenching, contracting, shuddering and drawing Clark along the highway of sensual decadence with her.

He followed, as he always did—willing, eager and utterly demanding. Forcing Diana to accept more pleasure, to go beyond this realm of flesh and carnality and into the next. Soul-stirring, raucous, and raw.

For minutes, they stayed like that, basking in the silent afterglow of their heated lovemaking. Neither in a rush to disconnect and lose that feeling of oneness.

"Damn," Clark breathed against her mouth, "that was so good."

It had been. Without a doubt, it had been so very good. Better than good, actually.

Clark gave a pleased sigh that was all masculine pride. "Thirty."

"What?" Great, Diana was back to that stupid four-letter question. If Clark kept this up, Diana would have no brain cells left to run her small island nation or work with the League.

Clark helped Diana lower her legs from his shoulders. But he remained where he was, his glorious naked body between her now hanging legs. Diana just as unabashedly nude as her lover.

"Thirty what?"

"Thirty times making love since you moved in here."

No, no, that couldn't be right. Diana frowned, thinking Clark must be mistaken. She'd only been there five full days. Today was the sixth and it wasn't even eight thirty in the morning.

"I'm sure we haven't had sex that many times." No, Diana rejected that stat outright. No one, except sex addicts, had sex so often in such a short period of time. Not that she knew anything about sex addicts, but, according to Zola, sex addicts had an increased sex drive that included an obsession with sex, the actions that surrounded sex, and an intense desire to take part in such actions. That wasn't Diana or Clark.

But …

Clark ran the pad of his thumb over Diana's nipple, stroking it with deliberate slowness into a hard, needy peak.

She moaned.

Clark did it again and again, silently and surely making his point about the thirty times in barely six days.

Diana leaned her hot body into his purposeful touch, wanting Clark to do more than play with her nipple. And didn't that reaction from Diana explain those thirty times she didn't want to admit to. Not that that made them sex addicts, of course. No, never that.

But what did it make them? What did so much sex say about Clark and Diana and their relationship?

Clark's other hand rose to Diana's nape, pulling her forward until their mouths were nearly touching again. "It won't always be like this. We're just on a temporary high from moving in together and having so much access to each other. I'm sure, as time goes on, all this sex will even itself out and we won't be as ravenous for each other."

"Are you sure?" Diana didn't know why she sounded worried. Besides the fact that thirty times in less than six days was a hell of a lot of sex. Made worse by the fact that they'd just made love and Diana damn sure wanted to do it again. Dammit, what in the world was wrong with her?

Clark licked her lips, teasing them with sensual back and forth strokes that had Diana opening her mouth and drawing his tongue inside.

Yes, this was crazy. Her body tingled all over, aching to have Clark inside her again. This urge to repeatedly consummate the new stage of their relationship had to even itself out, as Clark said. For if it didn't, they would be of no good to the people who relied on them.

Of their own volition, Diana's legs wrapped around Clark's sturdy hips. Without breaking the kiss, Clark lifted her off the countertop and walked them from the kitchen and to the bedroom.

Clark closed the door behind them by pressing Diana's back against it. Breaking the kiss, Clark stared into Diana's eyes. "I know you have some place to be and I said I only wanted a little taste." He shifted his hips just an inch, but it was enough to bring Diana into luxuriant contact with his raging erection. "Someone like Hal would say we've been having sex like bunnies. Well, he wouldn't use the word sex. He would say we were fu … um, never mind that word. But you get my point."

Diana thought about it a minute, having never heard the saying before. But she knew rabbits reproduced at a more rapid rate than humans, and therefore they had lots of sex.

She nodded, the bunny analogy quite apt, especially since they were about to go from thirty to thirty-one times in six days.

Diana glanced over Clark's shoulder and to the red lights of the clock on the nightstand. Whether another quickie or an hour-long lovemaking session, Diana would still have time to make her ten o'clock meeting. But those other two tasks would probably have to be done after the meeting.

She looked back at a patient Clark, waiting for her decision.

Diana kissed him.

He kissed her back, and then with another shift, Clark was inside of her again. Making love to Diana for the thirty-first time since they became roommates.

Aphrodite help her. Yes, they were definitely having sex like bunnies.

THE END