Rating: PG-13 for language and adult situations
Summary: The strange (and truthful) affects wine has on Lois Lane.
Spoilers: Circa Season 7is/8ish/9ish somewhere in there. But of course it's an AU I suppose now. LOL
Disclaimer: OK. So. The characterization might be a little OOC for Lois and Clark, but I have an excuse…Lois is OOC because she's a little drunk…And Clark is OOC because…Lois is a little drunk. See how I did that? ;)
I just found this…I wrote it back in 2009! I re-read it and thought it wasn't half bad. The ending went a little cheesy and little over the top…But I kept it cuz I liked it.
What Wine Does to Lois Lane:
A very tipsy Lois Lane let out an uncharacteristic giggle as she stumbled into her dark apartment. Sober, Clark Kent was hot on her heels ready to catch her if, most likely when, she lost her balance, again. Lois dumped her purse unceremoniously on the nightstand and fumbled for the light switch before making a beeline for the kitchen.
Obviously, a night full of tequila shots and margaritas wouldn't be complete if you didn't end it with a bottle of Two-Buck Chuck, right?
The two reporters had gone out to celebrate. After three long agonizing weeks of sifting through boxes and rearranging furniture Lois was now officially moved into her first Metropolis apartment.
Clark politely hung his jacket on the coat rack, knowing that this was probably the only time it would ever be used. As he turned toward the kitchen he couldn't help but smile when the leggy brunette staggered towards him with out stretched arms, wine in one hand and a corkscrew in the other. She reminded him of an overly eager child.
"Here, Smallville you do the honors, I have to go back for the glasses," she shoved the items into his arms then turned, not so sharply, on her heel and headed back to the kitchen.
Even though her words were slightly slurred Clark was still impressed with their clarity. He was convinced that only Lois Lane could go out on a Saturday night, drink half her weight in booze, and still be able to coherently convey cognitive thoughts.
He just hoped she didn't kill herself trying to get to the wine glasses, which he just remembered were on the top of the cabinet-
Shit.
Dropping the bottle and corkscrew on the couch cushion, Clark dashed to the kitchen just in time to see Lois loose her footing on the stool she was standing on.
He caught her in mid-air.
"My hero!" She laughed, draping her arms around his neck.
He grinned down at her trying to fight the small flush that threatened to spread across his cheeks as she gazed adoringly at him, biting her lip.
Déjà vu.
'Talk about sweeping a girl off her feet.'
Clark shook the memory away.
"Allow me," he said setting her back on the ground as he reached for the two long stemmed wine glasses the brunette had almost broken her neck over.
"What a gentleman!" Lois cooed appreciatively and then burst into giggles at her own foolishness. It was a rare sight to see the guarded reporter this giddy and carefree.
With a sheepish smile Lois scampered off in the direction of her bedroom.
"What are you doing?" He called after her.
"PJ's!" She replied, disappearing into the darkness.
After opening the wine Clark filled their respective glasses. Purposely giving Lois a little more than he probably should have. Wine did two things to Lois Lane: It tinted her cheeks with a rosy glow and, more importantly, it made her sleepy. All Clark had to do before she passed out was convince her to drink a large cup of water and slip her a few aspirin to dull tomorrow morning's (well, most likely afternoon's) unavoidable headache.
Clark took a large gulp from his glass enjoying the flavors melding together on his tongue, dry, but fruity with subtle undertones of coffee and chocolate and earthiness. There was something soothing and calming about wine. And after a night of trying to keep up with Lois, he felt he deserved a little relaxation.
It was times like these he wished alcohol affected him. Of course, if he really wanted to temporarily lower his inhibitions he could always just find some Red K and go to town. However, history shows that, that is probably never a good idea-Ever.
A moment later Lois made her grand entrance carrying a couple of blankets and a pillow, which she threw onto the couch.
"I guess I'm spending the night?" Clark questioned.
"Of course! Who else is going to make me breakfast in the morning?" She smirked, crossing her arms over the red and gold flannel shirt she was wearing.
Wait a minute.
"That's my shirt!"
"Yeah, I stole like five of them," Lois laughed as the expression on his face changed from outrage to confusion.
"What? They're comfortable!" She defended, "and besides you didn't even notice."
She had a point. He hadn't noticed. And it wasn't like he missed them or anything.
Lois snatched a glass of wine from the tabletop and raised it high above her head.
"To comfortable ugly night wear," Lois toasted proudly, leaning against the back of the couch for balance, "and the sweet farm boys who supply them!"
Clark smiled and shook his head.
"Cheers!"
Clink
Lois took a long swig then sighed over dramatically. Clark threw her a questioning look.
"This is the only way to celebrate Valentine's Day," she stated as she swirled the burgundy liquid lethargically in her flute.
"Valentine's Day? I thought we went out to celebrate your official integration into the Metropolis population," Clark responded.
"Yes, we did. But this also happens to be the day for, how did you put it? Fat baby's in diapers, as well." Lois smirked.
Clark glanced at his watch, "Lois it hasn't been Valentine's Day for two hours."
"And your point would be what exactly? Lois remarked taking another drink. "I am still your Valentine."
"How do figure?" Clark asked.
"Are you saying I'm not your Valentine?" She did her best pouty face.
How could he resist?
"Of course you are."
Clark couldn't tell if she was blushing or if it was just the wine getting to her. Either way the added color to her cheeks only emphasized how beautiful she looked. Wearing nothing but his shirt-
Bad thoughts Kent, bad thoughts! He scolded himself.
"Speaking of Valentine's Day," Lois remarked suddenly, "It looks like I'm not going to remember this one in the morning either."
"At least this time you won't wake up with any scandalous tattoos or smeared lipstick," Clark joked refilling her glass and topping his off.
Lois smirked wickedly, "the night is still young, Mr. Kent."
He swallowed hard, "Lo-is!"
The brunette laughed.
"You are so easy, Smallville," she pushed herself from the couch and attempted to saunter over to him (though it looked more like she was balancing on a tight rope, than a saunter) still wearing a vampish grin. She was doing pretty well, until she tripped over her feet and landed into something hard and Clark-chest shaped.
"Are you OK?" Clark grabbed her shoulders to steady her.
"Never better," she responded in a distracted voice. Her hazel eyes searched his concerned blue/green ones. Clark lifted one of his hands and brushed a stray hair behind her ear, "are you sure you're OK?" He asked again, letting his fingers linger on the side of her face.
Lois grinned and leaned her head against his touch, her sparkling eyes still gazing into his as she said, "I think we should do body shots."
Clark dropped his hand a chuckle escaping his lips.
"You know what I think?" He asked.
"What?" Lois responded eyes bright with mischief; eager to see if he had something that could top body shots.
"I think that it's time for bed."
Lois had no time to protest as her colleague effortlessly lifted her into the air.
"Clark!" Her squeal turned into a fit of giggles. "I can walk!"
The farm boy ignored her. Lois gave up on struggling. He was a lot stronger than she thought he was. Besides, she had to admit she liked being wrapped up in Clark Kent's arms. It made her feel safe and warm. He was always so warm.
But she wasn't ready for bed, yet. There was something very important she had to do first.
"Wait!"
"What? What's wrong?"
"Turn a little to your left," she commanded.
"Why?" Clark cocked an eyebrow at her. Was this some sort of drunken game?
"Just do it. Please?"
Clark reluctantly obeyed. Lois stretched out her arm toward the table. After finishing off both of wine glasses she downed the rest of the bottle in record time.
"OK. I'm ready now," Lois nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck and sighed contently.
"Lois Lane you are one class act," Clark chuckled.
"Mmmm, and don't you forget it," a shiver ran through his spine when he felt her lips curve upward against the nape of his neck.
Clark unconsciously shifted her closer to his body as he gently nudged the door to her room open. He carefully laid her on the bed.
"Stay. I'll be right back," he promised disappearing into the hallway.
He returned a few minutes later with a tall glass of water and a couple of Advil.
Lois was sitting up resting against the backboard, eyes closed.
"Lois?" Clark prayed she hadn't passed out yet.
Thankfully, the intoxicated woman's eyes flew open at the sound of his voice. Wearing a goofy grin she slowly crawled to the edge of the bed and kneeled infront of him.
"Take these," he thrust the water and medication into her hands.
Lois obediently followed orders.
"Thanks," she leaned back and set the empty glass on her nightstand, "you know you really are the sweetest boy I've ever known," she peered up at him through a fringe of dark lashes, wearing an impish grin.
Clark felt a whoosh as all the air rushed out of his body.
Her expression was almost- seductive?
He was completely frozen as he watched, in slow motion, as Lois reached out and walked two of her long delicate fingers up his chest. He needed to leave right now. That or grab her hands, do something- anything to stop this. But he didn't. He couldn't. The heat from her hands immobilized him. He just stood there dumbfounded, unable to breathe, to think.
Then she started playing with the collar of his shirt and Clark swallowed hard. "Smallville," her voice was soft and low and it spoke to something completely primal hidden deep inside him.
"Y-yes, Lois," he couldn't stop his breath from hitching from the heat of her hands as her fingers grazed his skin. She undid his top button. Clark's brain was screaming for him to stop her, but he couldn't remember why. Her touch was like a soothing balm to the desire burning him up. The longing reflecting in her eyes and the way the tip of her pink tongue peeked out and touched her plump red lips. Why weren't his limbs obeying orders? She was drunk, this wasn't right. He needed to-
"Stay with me."
Clark's pulse literally skipped a beat.
"I am staying with you." He answered nervously gesturing to the door, "on the couch." Out in the living room far away from the tempting brunette and her iniquitous caresses and all too alluring invitations.
"But I want you to stay with me, here," the minx smiled coyly, grabbing his outstretched arm.
"Lois, I don't think that would be a good idea," Clark replied, but he realized his protests were falling on deaf ears as she busied herself with kissing the tips of each of his fingers.
"You have big hands," he was right, in one ear, out the other.
"Um…thank you?"
"You know what they say about men with big hands don't you?" She slowly ran her palms up his arms, over his shoulders.
"Lois!" Clark made a mental note to add dangerously flirtatious onto the list of what wine does to Lois Lane.
"Yes?" She responded as her arms found their way around his neck.
"Aren't you tired?" He had to do something, now. Her lips were so close to his. Her body. Her voice. He could not do this. It was wrong. But it felt so right-
"Nope," she responded simply before her lips crashed against his.
And he was lost.
Every single rational thought Clark had flew out of his head the moment his lips sank into hers, parted them, then plunged into the depths of her mouth with sweet, reckless abandonment. She tasted like wine, fruity and decadent and his.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Clark knew there was a reason he shouldn't be doing this, but right now his entire concentration was monopolized by the smell of her skin, and the sensual way her body melted into his- it was euphoric. He was addicted to the small, sweet mewling sounds she made when his hands grazed over her body.
He was in a haze. His consciousness barely registered Lois's clumsy fingers as she tore at the rest of the buttons on his shirt and banished the unwanted garment to some dark abyss corner of the room.
Unable to stop himself, Clark toppled her onto the bed, pinning her beneath his weight. She had to be closer.
"Mmm…Clark." Her voice was low and breathy. She wanted him. Lois Lane wanted him.
And he sure as hell wanted her.
Greedily, he grabbed the back of her knee and hitched her naked leg around his hip. The intimate contact sent a pulse of electricity through both of their bodies. Lois moaned and instinctively ground her hips against his.
But it wasn't enough. She wasn't close enough. That stupid flannel shirt was getting in the way. He needed-
Clark suddenly pulled back from their embrace. It was like an alarm went off in his head
She was drunk!
Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! What in the name of all that is holy was he doing?
Clark popped off the bed like a shot.
"What?" Several emotions flashed across Lois's flushed face: Confusion. Rejection. Sadness. Frustration.
"Lois we can't." He was breathing heavily, his heart still pounding in his ears.
"Why not? Don't you want me?" She gazed up at him with big eyes, swollen lips; tousled chestnut stresses. She looked so vulnerable the flannel shirt teasingly gaping open in a few strategic places where he had ripped the buttons off. It took all of Clark's self control not to jump her. Again.
"Lois that is not the issue here. You are drunk. And I would be taking advantage of you if I let this," he made a hand gesture between them, " continue."
"It's OK," She reasoned earnestly.
"No, it's not," He bit back a groan. For the first time in his life Clark wished his parents hadn't instilled so many values into him. Stupid morals!
"No really it's OK," She repeated, "I lied."
"Lied? About what?" He asked. He knew it wasn't about the drinking; he had a front row seat to that tonight.
"I didn't take it off. I couldn't."
"Take what off? Lois what are you talking about?"
"The sensor. I didn't take off the sensor." Why was she bringing that up? The whole incident with the jeweler happened weeks ago. So what if she didn't take off the-
Realization dawned on him.
Oh.
"You-you didn't slip the sensor off your finger?"
"Nope. I lied."
"So," he paused, "when you answered the question, you were still hooked up to the lie detector?" He had to be sure.
"Yep." She nodded.
"So, that means when you answered the question, you answered it truthfully. Which means you-" He trailed off in disbelief.
"Yes," her eyes grew dark with desire, "See? It's OK," she whispered curling her finger at him in a 'come hither' fashion.
"Why did you lie?" Clark too dumbfounded to stop himself from gravitating towards her.
She shrugged. "Denial."
"Denial?"
"Yes. Now, why don't you come back to bed and coax me into reality."
He wanted nothing more than to do just that. However-
"Lois. I just- can't. " It was lame.
She sighed, " Fine. You're such a boy scout," she yawned and reached for his arm, "but stay, Please?" She fluttered her eyes.
Clark sighed defeatedly and slowly lowered himself down onto the bed. Lois was more than delighted. She made a move toward him, but this time Clark gently caught her hand.
"Don't worry I'll behave. I promise. " She smiled sweetly at him.
"It's not you I'm worried about," Clark muttered under his breath pressing her captured hand against his chest.
Lois kissed his cheek. "Goodnight, Smallville." Clark didn't protest. He lay back on the bed and Lois sprawled out on his chest. Her hair smelled like cinnamon.
It felt good to hold her. It felt right. And who would have thought that Lois Lane liked to snuggle in her sleep? She was full of surprises tonight.
But then again she always had been.
She was unlike any woman he'd ever met. She was brilliant and passionate and she was the only person who could fascinate and infuriated him at the same time. And yet, she was still all those things he said she was five years ago- rude, bossy, and stuck up. It was just now he wouldn't have her any other way. Maybe Lois wasn't the only one in a state of denial.
Clark smiled to himself as he gently rubbed Lois's back. She was already asleep.
Well, tomorrow was certainly going to be interesting, to say the least.
Now, the right thing to do would be to let it go. Give her an out. Blame the alcohol and let her think nothing had changed between them. Give it time.
But where was the fun in that?
Lois woke up feeling surprisingly well rested. Her head wasn't pounding her body didn't feel achy; she had a slight case of cottonmouth, but nothing too serious. This was the best hangover she'd ever had!
She stretched her arms over her head and sat up. Looking around she noticed her sheets were in disarray. She must have been tossing and turning a lot last night. Funny, she usually only did that when she was having nightmares. And the dreams she had last night, at least the ones she remembered, were the furthest thing from a nightmare.
Lois smiled to herself. Usually, it took at least three cups of coffee for her to even consider smiling first thing in the morn—(she glanced at the clock)— er, afternoon, but she supposed there was a first time for everything.
However, her smile quickly disappeared when she spotted something across the room. What the-
And then it all came flooding back in perfect, Technicolor, high definition clarity.
Fuck. Me.
Oh, God. No. No. No.
The way his body felt against hers, his lips. His hands-
"The sensor. I didn't take off the sensor."
Flashes of the night before hit her like a freight train.
This could not be happening!
Had she really? She wouldn't! She couldn't! No it had been a dream! She was so sure. And yet there it was, her proof a white button up shirt haphazardly hanging off the lampshade in the far corner of the room. She vividly remembered tearing that same shirt off a certain ripped farm boy.
Crap!
It was the wine! She should know better than to drink it in public or in the presence of Clark Kent! Hadn't Chloe's engagement party taught her anything? Wine was a very dangerous substance for her! God! How could she be so irresponsible?
Oh right, tequila. Another poison.
Lois nose dived into her pillows and groaned.
Clark must think she's some kind of pathetic lovesick slut!
She wouldn't blame him if he never spoke to her again.
Get a grip, Lane! She ordered herself. Who cares what Smallville thinks? For all he knows last night was nothing but the alcohol talking. Yes, that was it! She could play this off. Thank God for black outs!
She had a plan: Deny. Deny. Deny.
She took a deep breath.
Was he making pancakes? She inhaled again, and bacon and hash browns. Oh, coffee! She definitely needed some coffee.
Throwing the covers aside Lois hopped out of bed and cautiously made her way toward the kitchen.
He had his back turned to her standing over the stove, shirtless. Lois leaned against the doorframe silently, gawking. The man was beautiful.
As if sensing her presence Clark turned to greet her.
"Good afternoon, Lois. Sleep well?"
Lois gulped. He was a beautiful man.
"Isn't it kind of hazardous to cook bacon without a shirt?" She asked.
"Not as dangerous as you'd think," he winked.
Lois picked up the large cup of coffee on the counter next to him.
"Heart shaped pancakes?" She observed skeptically.
Clark smiled. "No. Chocolate chip heart shaped pancakes. We also have star shaped and snowmen."
Lois cocked an eyebrow at him.
"Just trying to get into the spirit of the holiday," he answered her unspoken question. "Besides, someone had to put those cookie cutters to good use."
"I have cookie cutters?" She questioned.
Clark laughed.
"Why don't you go sit down? Breakfast will be ready in a few a minutes."
'Uh, thanks."
Lois taped her nails on the side of her mug. It had been five minutes since either one had spoken. She hated awkward silences.
"So, uh did we have fun last night?" Lois mentally kicked herself.
She could sense his smirk. "You don't remember? " He asked a little too casually.
OK. Stick to the plan. She reminded herself.
"Oh, um, just a few pieces here and there." She admitted.
"Well, did you know the drunker you get the better you are at pool?" Clark joked.
"Smallville, I could kick your butt completely sober with one hand tied behind my back, blindfolded."
"Probably." He had a great smile. "So do remember anything after we hit the bars? Like what happened when we got back to the apartment?"
Lois choked on her coffee.
"You okay?" He rushed to her side and gently patted her on the back.
"I'm fine. It just went down the wrong pipe," Lois replied swatting his hand away. Why was he just standing there staring at her like that?
"Do I have something on my face?"
"No. I'm just waiting for you to answer my question," he went back to the stove and flipped the next batch of pancakes.
"Uh," she started "I remember wine," and telling you that I was in love with you after practically trying to rape you!
"Anything else?" He asked.
She was not in the mood.
"Is there something in particular to which you are referring to, Mr. Kent," she replied harshly.
She didn't like that he had the upper hand in this. She didn't like it at all.
"I have this theory," he answered.
"Please, do tell," Lois was highly annoyed.
"I think that wine is kind of like you're brand of truth serum."
"Truth serum?"
Lois preferred bottled humiliation, but to each their own.
"Yeah, I've been thinking about it all day."
"Well, would you mind sharing your reasoning with the rest of the class? Because right now I'm completely lost."
"Chloe's engagement party."
Lois groaned. "I still feel like a complete horse's ass for that, thank you for bringing it up."
"You drank a lot of wine that night."
"Champagne," she corrected.
"'Sparkling wine.'" Clark smiled.
"You're grasping."
He thought he was so clever! She was beginning to regret ever giving him that stupid Daily Planet application.
"Am I? You revealed some very interesting things that night," his amused reply was not helping Lois's mood, "everything you said in your drunken stupor had a lot of truth to it."
Lois fought the urge to slap that toothy grin off his gorgeous face. She took a deep breath instead.
Deny. Deny. Deny.
"So?" She stated.
"Meaning that everything thing you said last night also had a lot of truth to it," he crossed his arms over his chest. Lois had to remind herself that drooling would be a very bad idea at this point in the game.
"I barely remember last night."
"I think you're lying. Just admit it," he stated smugly.
"Admit what?" She demanded.
"The truth about how you feel about me."
"How I feel about you?" She feigned puzzlement, "Clark, I don't know what I said to you last night, but you're my best friend. I love you like a brother," she hoped she wasn't over doing it.
"Do you always kiss people you consider family with tongue?" He asked, "because if that's the case I'm going to have to have a very long talk with Jimmy."
Cocky bastard.
"Hey, as I recall you started whole tongue kissing thing!" She shouted. Not that she was complaining.
Clark's smile broadened as if to say gotcha.
Good going Lane. Open mouth insert foot.
"So you do remember last night."
Let's see there was Germany, France, England; the Daily Planet had a plethora of international hubs she could transfer to. Oh! Maybe they had one in Antarctica; she was quite fond of penguins. Penguins lived in Antarctica, right?
"Lois?"
"What!"
OK. She had to get control over this situation. She would be damned if she let Clark Kent run her off. And besides Antarctica was very cold.
"I may or may not vaguely remember some very small, minute really, parts that allegedly happened last night, yes," she answered carefully taking a long drink from her mug.
"I see." Clark set her plate down in front of her. "Which parts exactly?"
Lois's slight case of cottonmouth suddenly turned severe.
"I choose to plead the fifth," she answered taking a victory bite of her food.
Clark scoffed, "you're not on trial Lois."
"Then what's with the third degree, Smallville?" She countered.
"I just want to hear you say it," he replied.
"Say what exactly?"
"You know what," she had never seen the man so smirky in her entire life! How she longed for the days of broodiness to return. OK, maybe not. But damn this was irritating.
"I don't know what you're talking about," she was beginning to sound like a broken record. She took another bite of her pancake, "good breakfast by the way. Aren't you going to eat?"
Hey, the man could cook.
"You know exactly what I'm talking about," he replied, "and I'm not hungry. I ate breakfast at breakfast time."
"Oh, ha ha ha." She rolled her eyes.
"Lois. I know that you don't want me to know, but I know."
She was getting frustrated. He was having way too much fun with this.
"It was that damn wine!" She yelled frantically, "it-it just messes with my brain," she was ranting more to herself than she was to him.
Clark put his hands over hers. Lois eyed him suspiciously.
"Fine. If you're going to be difficult I'm just going to have to-" "
"Drop this and move on?" She interjected hopefully.
"No. I'm just going to have to do what you told me to last night."
"Which was what, exactly?" She didn't like where this was going. As she recalled she'd asked him (verbally and nonverbally) to do a lot of things last night.
Clark leaned in closer to her. His hands gently squeezed hers. Lois's heart rate increased. "I'm going to coax you out of your denial and into reality," he smiled triumphantly.
"If anyone at this table is in denial, it's you!" She wrenched her hand from his and poked him in the chest for good measure. Her heart unconsciously sped up when she realized how close he was to her. She could feel his body heat radiating off of him. He was always so warm.
"Whatever you say, Lois."
Uncomfortable with their close proximity, Lois abruptly stood up took her plate to the sink.
She lingered at the counter, picking at a piece of toast nervously. She heard his chair squeak against the linoleum floor and a split second later she felt him behind her. He wasn't touching her, but he was close.
She spun around, "Clark what the Hell-mmmph!"
His lips cut her off.
Unlike the unrelenting kiss they shared last night. This one was soft. His lips moved meticulously against hers. He wasn't trying to dominate her mouth, he was exploring. Every caress and gentle nibble was light and torturously slow.
The lack of pressure and contact was driving her crazy.
Her arms snaked around his neck, her fingers playing with the hairs on the nape of neck. Every attempt she made to deepen or quicken the kiss was denied. Clark placed his hands on either side of her gripping the edges of the countertop. He wouldn't touch her. Hell, his lips were barely touching her. It was torture!
"Smallville!" She didn't care how desperate she sounded.
"Just say it and I'll give you what you want," he breathed against her mouth.
Two could play at this.
In one quick movement Lois hoisted herself onto the countertop, and locked her long toned legs around his waist. Pulling his body into hers. She rubbed her hips fervently against his jeans biting back a moan from the pleasure the friction was creating. Her plan was backfiring, she didn't expect the intimate contact to feel this good.
Clark however didn't hide his reaction. He let out a gasp of approval.
Let's see how long he could hold out now that tables had turned.
She had definitely surprised him. He hadn't been expecting retaliation. Though, he should have. She was the general's daughter after all. She lived for battle.
It was time to change his strategy.
Clark broke away from her all too eager lips and buried his face in her hair. Lois unconsciously threw her head back to give him better access. He brushed his lips against the sensitive skin behind her ear. She involuntarily shivered.
"All you have to do is say it," he breathed gently nipping at her ear lobe.
"You first, ahhh," he was good.
God. She wanted him to touch her. Glancing down she noticed his knuckles had gone white.
She smirked.
Unwinding her arms from his neck Lois swiftly undid what was left of the buttons on her (his) shirt then pressed her naked flesh to his.
A deep throaty groan escaped Clark's lips. She could feel the heat from his palms hovering over her skin, so close and yet so far.
"You play dirty, Lane," he managed to get out.
Lois giggled.
"All's fair in love and war, Kent," and this was both.
"I think I have a way we can compromise," Clark continued between kisses. He used the fact that her shirt was unbuttoned to his advantage. Being careful not to touch her skin he slid the fabric down her shoulders then moved his lips from her neck to her collarbone.
"I don't…Oh! Negotiate with terrorists," Lois answered pressing her nails into his shoulders while she arched her back.
"Just hear me out," he almost pleaded, his hot mouth on the underside of her chin. His nose delicately traced the outline of her jaw. As light as the sensation was, a violent shudder still rocked her to her core.
"I'm listening," she replied as her hands traced down the ripples of his chest and abdomen, his muscles contracting at her touch.
"I think we're at a stalemate," he answered gingerly removing her shirt completely. He let the flannel fabric fall to the ground, his mouth burning kisses on her bare shoulders.
"And what do you propose we do about that?" She undid his belt.
"Well I've always found that actions speak louder than words, haven't you?" He pulled away from her embrace to gaze at all of her naked glory. She was absolute perfection.
Lois smiled knowingly, "so you're saying showing is better than telling?" She asked, slowly pulling his belt through the loops of his jeans and carelessly tossed it behind him.
"Exactly." His smoldering eyes found hers.
A moment of understanding flashed between them.
There was no gentle finesse or tender wooing; both had, had enough foreplay to last a lifetime. In the next moment he crushed her body to his, his mouth licking into hers with the fierce desperation of a man who was tired of being denied. Denied happiness. Denied peace. Denied a true and unconditional love of a woman he trusted. Lois groaned. And surrendered to the plea of his body and his heart, wanting to be that peace and love and trust for him. Understanding that whatever she gave him, he would give it back to her tenfold because he was hers just as much as she was his.