(Warning: Some scenes described in this chapter may be consided mature and hence, inappropriate to read at work, while driving or generally…..)

In the kind of super-speed motion that Superman was known for, he rolled himself onto his side and her onto her back. He wanted to keep going…to love her as he really wanted to. But he drew a long harsh breath of restraint and reminded himself where they were … and who he was.

Farm boy from Kansas.

Reminded himself of who she was.

Princess of the Amazons.

Definitely not the kind of woman who would welcome his out-of-control body crushing her into a satellite floor…A woman like Diana demanded a five-star seduction, with privacy and pristine sheets, preferably on another planet, with enough time to pleasure every exquisite inch of her body. And when he looked down at that body spread before him in boneless lethargy, her hair fanned around her flushed face, her eyes hazy with desire, he needed to remind himself again.

"You are unbelievably beautiful," he murmured.

How crass that sounded. He wanted original words, ones he'd never used, ones she'd never heard on any man's lips. Ones not yet invented. Perhaps, he'd use Kryptonian with her. The power of that notion stilled him but didn't stun him. He felt it settle, deep and rich. Inevitable. He'd known how it would be with her. That was the very reason he'd avoided her.

Avoided her his whole life. Until just now.

She blew out a soft shuddery breath, and he watched a strand of hair lift on the sigh, then settle against her cheek. He smoothed it away and allowed his fingers to savor her satin warmth, across her cheek, down the side of her throat, just above her heartbeat. A fine tremor rippled through her, and he pressed his palm flush against her skin, wanting to absorb the intensity of her need. Wanting to absorb her. He closed his eyes and waited for the potency of the moment to pass before he touched her again.

He tried for humor. Anything to bring back his famous Super control…

"It's almost killed me, wanting to see what you wear under here." He traced the vee of her uniform with one fingertip.

The corners of her mouth lifted in the smallest smile, "You only had to ask."

"I'm asking now."

With her eyes fixed on his, she slowly pushed her uniform down, allowing it to bunch around her waist and reveal her beautiful body. The words he groaned in controlled reverence weren't romantic or original, but they were definitely Kryptonian, "Caiomhe… Sigal…"

He couldn't stop himself tracing a finger over the dark shadow of one nipple. Her breath hissed in, then out. Beneath the slow stroke of his finger he felt the tremor again, keener this time.

"Caiomhe…" he repeated again, as he palmed the fullness of one breast. Then the other. And the sight of his hands, so big and sure against her fair, alabaster skin was the most erotic thing he'd ever seen. His head spun with the image, with the need that throbbed in his veins. For a long jaw-clenched moment he closed his eyes and battled for control.

Where was his vaunted super-control when he most needed it?

As if from a great distance he heard her soft entreaty. "Please, Kal."

"Please … what?" he asked. "Please kiss you?"

And he did. Hungrily, on her desire-softened mouth. On the scented luxury of her perfect throat as her head moved to one side. On the creamy rise of her breasts springing free from her tight uniform confines. Then he placed his mouth over one fiercely distended nipple and gently drew it into his mouth, hungrily feeding on the husky sounds of pleasure and approval purring in her throat.

Her hips moved restlessly beside his, her knees lifting, spreading, encouraging. No, he warned himself even as one hand slid lower to stop at her hip. Not here, not now, he told himself as that hand smoothed down her silken thigh, as traced the muscle just above her knee….

So firm, so soft, so warm….

Enough, he told himself, retreating, curbing his errant hand. But she wriggled closer and moved her leg against his. The very thought of its smooth length sliding over his thigh, hooking around his hips, caused him to pulse, hot and heavy.

"No", he groaned.

"Yes," she whispered, her blue-grey eyes begging for more as she took his hand and pressed it low against her body. Her damp heat scorched him, even through her uniform. Singed him, even though he had super-skin…

For a long aching moment he couldn't move, he couldn't breathe. He'd never felt such intense desire, such a deep aching need…

He was dimly aware of another feeling coursing through him…he didn't need to hold himself back. This was Diana! He could show her the complete strength of his passion. He didn't need a red sun simulation….

Then she moved, compulsively, pushing herself against him, seeking his deeper touch. Needing him, telling him she needed him in husky breaths of urgency. With unsteady fingers he tugged her uniform of her body and touched her wet naked flesh.

He stroked her, felt a deep shudder wrack her body. So responsive…

He drew her naked breast into his mouth, suckling hard. Her hands fisted in his hair as if she needed something to hold on to, to save her from falling, and Superman wanted, more ferociously than he'd wanted anything at any other time, to be her anchor and her shelter. He touched her again. Once. And she came apart.

He held her close for as long as he dared, then, with a hand not quite steady, smoothed her tangled hair from her face and pressed a gentle kiss to her trembling brow. Finger by finger he opened her fierce grip free of his hair. She hadn't hurt him. But her grip was hard.

Her eyelids fluttered open, and she nuzzled into him, sliding her hands down his arms, demurring in a thick sexy voice, "No. I want to touch you. I want to feel you…"

"No. That's enough," Superman hissed through clenched teeth.

It wasn't nearly enough, yet it was too much for the floor of the JLA satellite. The floor of the JLA satellite!

Super classy, Clark!

He set her aside, resisted when she tried to snuggle closer. Definitely enough until he could get her into a bed. But his super-thinking wasn't working with her moving half-naked beside him.

With all her perceptions – including time – shattered, Wonder Woman had no idea how long it took her to catch up. Superman really meant what he said. Not enough to her was, apparently, enough for him. Not only had he purposefully put her aside, but now he was putting her back together, pulling her uniform into place, pulling up her bustier. Sitting up. Withdrawing from her scrambling hands.

What in Gaea's name?

"Is there a problem?" she asked, not understanding, still spinning a little and curiously dissatisfied despite her release.

"There would be if anyone came by."

(AN: Some of the terms of endearment used in this chapter find their origins in ancient Gaelic)