Two posts in one day... this story's getting to me...
~*~
…ten…
~*~
The kiss lasted two minutes.
Two minutes that could have been two years, or two seconds, depending on how you looked at it. When they broke away, their eyes were closed. Both were flushed, breathing heavily, trying so hard to stay upright.
Clark was the first to find his voice.
"Wow… that was…"
Lois purred, the sound rumbling up from the back of her throat and sending a cool shiver up Clark's spine.
"I know…"
"We need to talk about this," he said.
Lois scrunched up her face, and this time, the moan that escaped her lips wasn't from any kind of pleasure.
"I know," she said.
~*~*~*~*~
Fifteen Minutes Later…
They faced each other across the table.
Clark had his hands in his lap, one leg bouncing up and down like an overworked jackhammer, his eyes trailing over the same, blank white-washed bricks over and over again…
Lois chose, instead, to stare at the ceiling, as she drummed the pencil she'd found on the surface of the wood.
Tap-tap-tappity-tap-tap-tap…
Tap-tap-tappity-tap-tap-tap…
Tap-tap-tappity-tap-tap-tap…
"Could you please cut that out?" said Clark, at last.
"No."
Tap-tap-tappity-tap-tap-tap…
Tap-tap-tappity-tap-tap-tap…
"Lois."
Tap-tap-tappity-ta–
"Lois!"
Clark grabbed the hand holding the offending pencil, forcing her to stop.
Lois froze.
Clark froze.
It felt to Clark like he might as well have grabbed the sparkling end of a live wire as a pulse of heat and energy shot up his arm from where his hand met hers. Breathing became difficult again.
By some miracle, he managed to find his voice.
"I need to know," he said.
"Need to know what?"
"How you feel about me."
"The kiss wasn't answer enough?"
"I need to hear you say it."
"Why?" she countered.
"Because I said it."
"What are we? In kindergarten?"
"Lois…"
"Fine, you wanna know how I feel?"
"Yes."
Lois opened her mouth to answer, then quickly shut it again. She jerked her hand out of his, forcing both between her legs where he wouldn't notice the nerve-wracking case of tremors that had suddenly overcome her.
"Terrified..." she whispered.
Clark heard her. Clear as day. He dropped his head, feeling his heart drop below the level of even this basement cell.
"I think…" Lois went on, her voice still so soft it might have been nothing more than flitting dream, "I think I might love you too much."
"What?"
Clark's head snapped back up, searching desperately for her eyes…
Those eyes…
Lois forced herself to look at him. She knew that if she carried on like this… baring herself like this… there would be no turning back. No way they could shrug this off – make lame jokes about it and pretend that that spark hadn't been there the whole time.
Because it had.
She knew it.
He knew it.
Hence, the terrified…
"I'm not supposed to need you, Smallville," she said, "That was never part of the plan. Ever since… ever since I was little, I had to do it on my own. My dad tried, but with my mom gone…" she shook her head, trying to free herself from the memories, "I always managed. Alone. I knew I would make it in this world. I knew I could leave a mark, but I always planned on doing it on my own. And now…"
She blinked back tears. This was hard. Harder then anything she'd ever done.
Clark reached out his hand again. He didn't say anything, but his eyes spoke volumes. They were pleading. Begging her to make the connection again. To draw on his strength, insignificant as it was, and carry on.
Smiling through the tears, Lois took his hand.
"And now…" she went on, "I don't want to do it alone anymore. I notice the things you do for me, you know? And I'm not talking about the rescues, and the keeping me out of trouble because, let's face it, that's a losing battle…"
Clark squeaked out a smile at that.
"I'm talking about the other things," she said, "The way you refill my stash of pencils every time I'm running low. The way you shouted at Jeannie when she dared to use a fresh filter in the coffee machine on the same day as the old one because that takes away the kick I like. I notice these things. I notice that no matter what the front page story is, you always turn to whatever story I wrote and read it first. The way you'll always walk on the street side of the sidewalk like some gentleman from a dumb old movie, and… And I know now that if any of that went away… it would take everything I have just to keep breathing."
Clark sat very still as time, and the silence, drew out between them like a blade. Then he was moving. If he didn't know better, he would have sworn he'd got his powers back he moved so fast. He wrenched his hand out of hers, got a grip on the table and hurled it aside like it had insulted him. Tried to keep him from her.
With one hand, he lifted her up, and drew her lips against his own. The spark lit, catching the waves of their emotions and burst into flame as his tongue slid into her mouth. Lois grasped the tip between her teeth, biting down just a little, and he shuddered.
Deeper…
Deeper…
Clark stumbled backwards, carrying her with him until the back of his legs met the edge of the bed and they collapsed. Lois fell on top of him, her weight bearing down on his injured shoulder, and Clark grunted.
"Oh, my God!" Lois gasped, "I'm so sorry…"
Clark grinned, "Now who's apologising?"
Lois cut off her own snarky reply and just kissed him again. Her hands sliding up the ridges of his chest… up his neck until her fingers tangled in the soft curls of his hair.
Clark's hand wove a trail of electricity up the side of her leg, across the bare skin at the small of her back, leaving a rush of goose bumps in it's wake.
Their bodies seemed to hum as they melted into each other.
It took almost inhuman effort to disengage, but Lois managed to plant one hand on the bed and push herself up.
"Are you sure about this?" she asked as she fought for breath.
"Yes."
"You have to convince me."
"What?"
"Well… I just said a lot of nice things about you, and it's feeling kinda one-sided here…"
"Lo-issss…" Clark groaned, trying to will his body to stop damn well shaking.
"Come on, Smallville" she teased, "I managed to get through it."
"Fine… fine…" he said, "You know this isn't the best time for a guy to be stringing together rational thoughts!"
She giggled. Clark took the giggle as a challenge.
"What do I love about you? Um… well… let's see…"
He scanned his memories frantically, trying to piece them into a picture of something that would get her to kiss him again. It wasn't as hard as he thought.
"You have seven laughs," he said, "And I love that I'm the only one who knows about them. At least, I'm pretty sure I'm the only one."
"Seven laughs?"
"One, when you just made fun of someone. Two… when something on TV tickles you… like that stupid commercial with the dancing baby."
"That baby's hilarious!" she protested.
Clark ignored her, "Three… when you actually get tickled. Four… when someone doesn't get the joke. Five…"
That was enough for Lois. She could find out about the others later. She clamped her mouth to his, her hands fumbling with the clasp of his jeans. Tugging it loose, she wrenched off her top, allowing Clark to get a clear path to clasp of her bra.
And the flame roared out of control.