I LIKE IT WHEN YOU PLAY WITH MY HAIR
"Goddamn it Kent," Lois yelled as she dropped her comb again.
They'd slept together the night before. At first, Lois had expected Clark to be shy and hesitant about having sex with her— he certainly seemed that way about everything. But he was as equally deceptive as he was honest (how could anyone so damn quiet be so confident?) and after the first night where she'd asked for it, he'd been eager to bone her every opportunity he had.
Not that he was bad at it or anything. In fact he was pretty good. If Lois were more honest (and she was pretty honest, she never could really lie to herself) she'd say that he was the best she'd ever had.
He was careful, and slow, but eager, and every touch he laid on her with his ridiculously warm hands made her body sing in a way she thought it never would again. Her college days were her driest; she'd been too obsessed with school and her writing projects and getting her foot in the door of an elitist, dying industry.
She'd slept around here and there, but she didn't have more than three bodies to her name. She'd never asked Clark how many he had. She didn't know if he had any at all. It wasn't important to them, not now, and she doubted it ever would be.
Her comb snagged on a huge knot again.
She didn't even bother stifling her groan. "I'm never letting you do this again," she mumbled.
Whenever they did have sex, Clark seemed to be fascinated by her hair. Well, her hair and her hips, but especially her hair. He'd run his fingers through it, twirling it delicately around warm thumbs and cradle her head as if he held a baby.
She felt the heat of his body behind her as he silently came up behind her and hugged her under her ribs. Her arms were raised, and he ducked his face between the crook of her elbow and chin and kissed her on the cheek.
"You love it though," he said with a cheeky grin she could just feel.
Dropping her arms, she petulantly slapped his chest with the plastic comb. "The sex? Yes. Detangling? Not so much."
"Here," he took the comb from her and sat her down on the plastic folding chair she kept in the room to reach the top shelf of her closet. "Let me do it for you."
"You just like to play with my hair," she mock-grumbled. She couldn't completely bury her smile though.
In the mirror, she could see Clark's bright toothpaste smile, and knew she was totally right.