Celebration

September, 2013

Lois Lane-Kent stirred awake in bed, feeling a dip in the mattress behind her. She felt her husband's hand under the comforter gliding past the fabric and hem of her shorts and then down the naked portion of her thigh. His hand wasn't quite touching her skin, hovering but centimeters, yet she could still feel the motion nonetheless. The next sensation was his lips on her neck, trailing down past the strap of her tank top to her bare shoulder. She let out a moan of contentment.

"You awake?" He huskily whispered in her ear.

"Maybe." She mumbled.

He continued his assault on her neck, his tongue flickering out and joining his lips on her skin. Her hand reached out from under the covers and locked into his hair to keep him in place. He smiled against the nape of her neck as he gave it another soft kiss.

"Do you know what today is?" He asked, his hand finally making contact and trailing back up her body.

Was he seriously asking her what day it was? She was lucky she remembered her name at the moment. How could he ask her something as trivial as the date?

"Ummm…a day…within a month…" she said in a raspy voice and getting lost in the sensation his hand had on her body.

He chuckled, "I'm going to need you to be more specific than that." His hand then stopped on her stomach. "If you want me to continue, that is."

'How cruel.' She thought.

She racked her brain for the information he wanted. She remembered seeing Back to School commercials at some point earlier in the month, so that had to mean September? Yes, it finally registered. It was September!

"September." She exhaled as he drew circles with his fingertips on her skin.

"September what?" He whispered into her ear.

"Clark, what's with the twenty-questions?" She asked with impatience.

Didn't he know what he was doing to her? Or maybe that was it. He knew exactly what he was doing to her. She could feel his body move closer to hers, which made her eyes roll inside her head. He was torturing her.

"What day is it, Lois?" He asked again, his voice steady.

She swallowed back as his other hand ran through her hair and moved it away so he could have better access as he kissed her upper back and the crevice in between where her shoulder blades met her neck. He was toying with the upper material on the back of her tank top. Her hand ran down quickly and clamped on top of the one he still had on her stomach.

Quickly, she counted in her head. She had just had a front page headline with him the other day- another glorious Superman save. That had been a couple days back on the…

Her thought process stopped as his body moved in closer to hers. Her mind was going insane feeling his warmth and taut chest on her back, but it also reveled in that fact that he also seemed to be in the midst of torture, muffling a guttural sound from his throat as she shifted her bottom half backward.

"The 24th." She moaned and then she looked at the clock on the night stand as the glowing blue of 11:59 became 12:00am. "Though I guess now it's September 25th."

"And do you know what is important about it?"

"Should I?" She breathed out.

He nodded into her back and she felt his hand leave her stomach, which resulted in a groan from her. She could feel the warmth of his body leave as well as he shifted onto his back.

Rolling onto her right side she faced him as he stared up at the ceiling.

"Clark?"

His eyes shifted to look at her and the ends of his mouth curled up.

"You didn't remember last year either. Or the year before that."

Her brow furrowed trying to understand what he was talking about. It couldn't have been the anniversary of when he told her the secret, that hadn't happened in September. She was sure of it.

"What about the year before that?" She asked, trying to get another clue.

"We didn't celebrate that year." He smirked, "We were on different continents."

Her hand moved from beneath the covers and landed on his chest. She stroked it softly and could hear his breathing hitch up in response.

"How about you give me one more clue."

He turned his body toward her so they were face to face, a mirror image stretched out in the same position. So close, and yet, so far away.

"Monorail."

"Monorail?" She asked, her nose wrinkling up in confusion.

He nodded his head and added, "It's also the day my life began again."

His hand then came up to the side of her head and his fingers ran through her hair, pushing it back behind her ears. His eyes stared right into hers, like he was looking right into her soul. She let out a gasp and her eyes widened when she realized what he was referring to.

"Oh, Smallville. I'm so sorry that I for—"

Before she could finish her sentence his mouth crashed onto hers. Her hands landed on his back as his landed on each side of her, trapping her under him as he rolled them over. Kisses interchanged from hard to gentle and back. They were full of hunger, want, need, desire, and love.

Lois moaned as Clark's lips moved away from her mouth and to the sensitive parts of her neck. He trailed the kisses up behind her ear then broke away to whisper, "I love you."

Her hands left his back and landed on each side of his face. She brought his face back to meet hers and replied, "I love you, too."

"That night, four years ago, when the monorail car came crashing down onto the street, I thought nothing of it, it was just another save. Then I looked up and saw your face and something came alive inside of me." He breathed. "As the night of the 24th bled into the early morning of the 25th, I'll never forget the void inside my chest recovering in an instant, my heart starting to beat again. And it only beats for you, Lois."

Lois smiled beneath him and blinked away the moisture that was forming in her eyes.

"You certainly make mine skip beats."

Their swollen lips met once more as her hands had found their way to his bulging biceps and his hands held onto her hips and then pulled at the material she wore.

There was a rhythm to their dance as body parts became tangled and hands gripped at the sheets and each other. The rhythm was not unknown, both had performed the dance before, many times, but this was different. The meaning behind it added to the passion. The memories of being without one another, even if just for a short time. The fear and possibility that it had been a permanent separation, with words left unsaid, fueled the need to be closer, especially for Clark. They worshiped each other with tender touches and gasps of pleasure.

However, neither would realize right away their celebration of life, of beating hearts, had another meaning because not only were they making love—they were making a baby.