Notes: Thanks to LaCasta and jeannie81 for the feedback!

Ruby Truth - Valentine Michel Smith

Clark made the trip home quickly. In the affray, he'd forgotten about Martha's car.

He drove the vehicle to Loeb Bridge, then parked. Again, decisions.

Clark rolled down the windows and climbed from the car. When in doubt, go with the simple and the visceral.

Clark checked for oncoming traffic. Coast clear, he hefted the car and tossed it over the guardrail.

Martha's transportation disappeared, sinking quickly beneath the water's midnight surface with no more than a quartet of gurgles.

In the distance, headlights expunged darkness. Headlights coming right toward him. Clark turned, attention jerked from the drowning vehicle. He recognized the car instantly.

Lex peered through his windshield. Was that...? "Clark?" he said softly.

Glimpsing Lex, Clark smiled, then vanished. Or so it seemed. Certainly, there one minute, gone the next. Was Lex hallucinating?

That cinched it.

Lex pointed the Lamborghini in the direction of Metropolis.

Armani's Collezioni collection suit fit Clark like nothing he'd worn before. The cashmere coat came close, but even that didn't feel nearly as good as this ensemble did. The burgundy silk shirt beneath the jacket reminded him despite his imperviousness to climate, bullets and fire, he was indeed a creature of sensuous appetites. Creature? Clark snickered. There was a time when words like "alien," "freak" and "creature" would've bothered him. Now, he stretched out his arms, drew them in, and held the appellations tightly. All a matter of perception really. Was being a "thing" inherently bad?

"Gwen?" Clark called as he inspected himself from another angle.

"Still getting dressed," she responded.

That set Clark's head to "tilt." Although it was hella funny. Honestly, what was with women?

Lacking warning, Clark appeared behind the MetU coed. He paused to savor the view. Victoria's Secret most definitely agreed with her. "Maybe I can help."

She wasn't sure how it happened really, but instantly Gwen was wearing the backless number Clark had chosen earlier. There was a vague sense of being touched by a million large, fast hands, then, voila. Totally clothed. A little disconcerting, but Gwen would not bring herself to question the latest peculiar sequence of events experienced while in the company of one Clark Kent.

She swallowed hard. "So?" she said. Gwen's voice snapped Clark back to the here and now. Standing behind her, he shifted her to view himself in the mirror as well, grinning broadly. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuuuuuck that dress fit like a second skin. And they made a stunning couple.

Slipping from beneath the grasp of large hands, Gwen walked across the dressing room, working her hips like a runway model. She sashayed before him. From across the room, Clark appeared behind her. How was he able...?

Clark's hand drifted to her back and lingered at the small. "Mmmmm, I've got good taste," he said finally.

"And," Gwen leaned backward as Clark inclined his head, "you taste..." Her tongue edged out, tip flicking the flirty pout of his bottom lip. The job required more sucking. "mmmm...good," releasing the lip with a pop-smack.

Clark maneuvered to a nearby chair, placed Gwen on his lap. "Clark, people. Party? Here any minute."

"They can wait."

Clark hiked the dress, lifting it above Gwen's hips as she leaned back. Flicking a tongue in her ear, he twisted her panties free, ripping them with a flip of a finger. Gwen looked down. "Those where embroidered Italian -"

"One hundred dollars." Clark's tongue gently explored Gwen's mouth. The exploration shifted to playtime as tongues engaged, seeking, finding, tempting each other. The lightheartedness was soon replaced by intensity as Clark bussed Gwen rapaciously. He whispered into her ear, "I'll buy you another pair."

Seeking the rush, Gwen writhed on Clark's lap, hips gyrating in a slow, comfortable rhythm. He held her even as the pace quickened. She moaned as Clark dragged pink wetness down her back, matching his hip movements with her own.

Within Clark, an errant thought rose, not interrupting. He could snap her. In two. So, so very easily.

This time, the scream was bone chilling.

Spent, Gwen watched as errant strands of hair drooped, loosed from the elegant upsweep. Rivulets of perspiration made their way down her face, back and neck.

"Sweet..." Gwen began. Jagged breath caught. "What... What were you thinking about?"

Clark kissed her sweetly. "You."

Lana turned from the stove, the two mugs firmly in hand, she negotiated the hot chamomile tea the scant three steps. Not spilling was a problem, but she always liked a challenge, no matter what their size or significance. "I think I filled these up a little too much." She sat down, barely succeeding in the "no spill" initiative.

"The perfect Lana Lang made an imperfect pour?" Chloe's face revealed altogether mock astonishment. "Never in my lifetime did I expect to witness such a thing."

Lana giggled, joined in the burgeoning mirthfest by Chloe as giggles morphed into guffaws then transmogrified into full belly laughs.

"Oh," said Lana, clutching her stomach, "I didn't realize. How much I needed that."

"It hasn't been a fun few days, has it?"

"Not by any stretch of the imagination. And as strange as it sounds, I miss Clark."

Chloe quirked an eyebrow. "Even after the Date from Something More than Hell?"

"Clark. Not the imposter in black sleevelessness."

"Then not a fan of CKOD? Clark Kent on Drugs?"

"I don't care if - " Lana drew back.

Not that Chloe was sure. "I...." Still, it seemed a possibility. "It's something..." Ok Sullivan, how do you put this to the woman who should be your sworn enemy?. "Clark hasn't been himself, right?"

"No matter how you twist it. Do you think -"

"-Not starting rumors here." Chloe sipped the tea, inhaling steam. "But what if?"

"Clark's doing -"

"- I can't imagine anything recreational pharmaceutical wise. He's too contained to need it." Lana eyes circled knowingly as she tilted her head.

"Or want it."

"Course, there was the beer..."

"Symptom. Not cause." Lana's eyes widened as something occurred to her. "What about steroids?"

"Steroids?"

"Abuse leads to aggressive behavior. " A guilty pause followed. "After School Special."

"He's definitely been very much me man lately."

Lana blinked, looking away. "Now I feel bad."

"Why?"

She turned to Chloe, her face flushed. "Hello? Bitch queen here. Clark's in trouble, and the only thing I could think about was myself."

Chloe smiled meekly. "Happens to all of us. Although it sounds like we have a new winner in the 'Myopic Self Involvement' Derby."

"I want to thank all the people who made this award possible. Namely, me."

"We have snark."

"And snark is good." Lana raised her mug high. Chloe mirrored the gesture. The pair shared a glance over fresh giggles and lukewarm tea.