Clark's
hands rubbed furiously enough to start a small fire. His eyes sank
into the wooden as he anticipated, as well as dreaded, the arrival of
a seemingly livid Lois Lane.
Sighs were taken after every thought
of what she might say to him.
What possessed him to do such a thing? How would he explain him self?
He'd never been more terrified of anything in his life.
Within five minutes of her arrival, he'd be buried six feet under, for sure.
Frustration had possessed him when words most suitable for explanations in such situations didn't come to him immediately.
Then it struck like a bolt of lightening.
He'd never experienced anything like this before. How could he explain himself? How could he tell her? She wouldn't understand and would feel violated in a manner worse than he.
He then started thinking that maybe it would be in his best interested to keep this to himself and file it away along with another 'deep, dark, secret'. His head shook when he realized that he had to tell her the truth.
Lies only lead to confusion.
He began to slap himself on the head and whispered soft curses at himself. Never had he used such words in his life.
With super hearing he listened in on her arrival. Following each of her footsteps, was a high pitched creaking of the stairs that rang throughout his ear drums.
Then his door suddenly swung open. He flashed up to it and his mouth nearly dropped open.
She stood at his doorway looking as if she was keeping her nervousness hidden behind a cool, casual eye.
Something he'd never seen in her before.
"Son of a bitch" was his last curse of himself.
Immediately, he shot up from where he sat. His lips started to babble faster than a salesman.
"L-l-lois."
He desperately longed to give her an explanation. All he could manage to think up was an apology.
"I'm sorry."
She didn't utter a word. Instead she walked, diffidently, into his room. Her hands folded in front of her like an obedient child.
She waltzed past him and sat on the bed; over toward the other side. Her back was turned away from him.
His eyes followed her the whole time. He grew wide and amazed. She's walked right past him without laying so much as a finger on him.
Maybe she wanted to hear an explanation beforehand.
She took in a deep breath then turned to meet him.
"So, are you gonna start talking or should I?"
His response was an uncontrolled head nod. His hands grasped at each other, working out a rapid stroke.
This was it. Finally she would know the shocking truth. Soon she would know what had taken over him so badly, to the point of which his doings marked were 'weird' and 'unlike him.'
"Lois-" he began. "Lois... Lois."
"Clark I think I know my name." she said.
She realized that he might have been more nervous that she thought. What explanation was he thinking up to have her choking him come time he finished?
Lois' head shook for him to continue and he acknowledged her with sigh.
He realized that it was now or never.
"Lois-" again, he begun. "These past few weeks have been very weird for me."
Briefly, he paused.
"And there is a reason as to why," He said. "Which also is the same reason that could explain the... grabbage of your breasts."
Cheeks of both sides rosed; on two accounts.
"Lois, um, I've been feeling very..." his hands waved for the words. "Erotically charged this past year and I don't know why."
There it lye, in front of them both. He didn't imagine that it would be this easy for him. And the rest ran out like water.
"I've been having these dreams. Sexual related dreams. About you."
He looked for her response but there wasn't one. He figured to continue on.
"I've been having sexual related dreams about you, Lois."
As his story went on, moments of intimacy shared between the two, in his dreams, were confessed. Every dream came pouring out of him.
All seventy two of them.
Everything had been given to her. From tempted stares to lust filled kisses. From scenarios to positions. He didn't even try to hold back.
Talk about confessions.
He'd being talking for what seemed like an hour before he stopped.
When he did, her mind felt as if it had just gotten off of a rollercoaster, ran back, and enjoyed a second ride.
"So, that's… that's what... that's why I did what I did."
His arms began swinging, causing his hands to clap together, slightly.
He stood there waiting for her to punch his lights out but she didn't. Instead she sat there; dazed, confused.
"That was… that was." She spoke, staggered.
"Vivid?" he finished.
She shot up. "Not to mention invasive, and totally inappropriate!"
Her feet started pacing around the room, frantically. She was almost unable to register the information given.
"First off, Smallville, sex – Lois – and dreams? Three words that should never come out of your mouth in the same sentence!"
Her voice was growing hostile. Clark felt like a rodent surround by felines. His hands reached to comfort her shoulders. She jerked back away from him.
"Hey, hey, hey! What ya doing!" Her finger pointed in his face.
Clark's hand flailed into the air as if a robber had just threatened him with a gun.
"Lois, I know what your thinking but-"
She then felt even more violated. "No, you don't know what I'm thinking. You weren't just told that you were being 'taken in a barn' and caught 'stripping'.
A pause fell. Clark's lip was bitten as he ponder his next comment.
"Well, actually I was the one who was stripping."
Her furious fist rose.
"But that doesn't matter now!" He defended himself, quickly.
Downward a crowd of people were gathered at the bottom of the stairs. All eavesdropping on the supposed 'Lane vs. Kent' showdown.
"I hear yelling!" Chloe said. "It's Lois."
"Ok, so she hasn't killed him, yet. She's still giving him an earful." Lana chimed in.
All inched closer when completely silence fell above them.
"Do you think she killed him, now?" Martha said.
Everyone ignored her and awaited the results. Martha seemed around and sucked her teeth.
"I'm going up there."
She sprinted up the stairs, towards the room, once filled with noise, which now fell silent. She was startled when she was meet by her soon who had obviously been kicked from his own room.
"Clark, is everything, ok?"
Her son sighed and shook his head, disagreeing.
"No, she's pissed."
"Well, why? What happened?"
He words sought out answers that could elucidate her son's outlandish actions. She knew she shouldn't pry but her maternal instincts kept pushing.
"Mom, I'd rather not discuss it."
Her head shook, lightly. "Okay, but if you do want to talk I'll be down stairs."
His eyes looked to her as if he'd never wish to speak of this moment. Her hand reached to stroke his cheek and she went back down stairs.
Everyone stood anticipating her news.
"So, what sis he say!" Someone shouted from way back.
"Is he dead?" Jonathan asked.
Her eyes shout to him and she raised her brow.
"Sorry" he apologized, awkwardly.
"She hasn't killed him and he doesn't wish to speak about it."
Disappointed oohs and awes spread throughout the house. This town was becoming fascinated with weirdness as well as drama.
Back above them, Clark had been banging against the door, pleading for her to open it.
"Lois, come on, open up!"
He thumped again. When she didn't respond he hit his head upon the door.
"Lois, you just don't know how sorry I am. Please, can you just listen to me?"
With he still leaning against the door, it suddenly swung open causing him the dash forward. She was standing under him in which his head fell into her breasts.
Gasps escaped them both.
Astounded he crept away from her. For what had just happened would be the icing that lined her cake of anger and frustration; topped with an embarrassed cherry.
"Lois… that was…. I didn't… you were-"
Her voice screamed a groan as the door was slammed in his face.
"So, I'll talk to you later, ok?" he screamed. "I'm sorry!"
He sighed another one then slouched. He slowly slid down to let his bottom meet with the floor.