A/N: Please note that this story takes place sometime between episodes 9x16 ("Escape") and 9x18 ("Upgrade"). Please enjoy!
She has to stop coming to the Kent Farm for dinner every night, that's all there is to it. Because dinner inevitably leads to a movie, which leads to kissing, which leads to their shirts on the floor, Lois in Clark's lap, and just last week, a hickey the size of Kansas just over the pulse point on her neck. She's had to wake up early every damn day just to style her hair over it so it isn't glaringly obvious that they're behaving like two insatiable teenagers. They've been watching the same terrible Judd Apatow movie for two weeks now and neither one of them can tell you what happens after the first ten minutes.
It's a dangerous game they're playing, especially when Lois is the one constantly reminding him that they have to take things slowly. It's hard to keep focused, though, when his hands are somehow everywhere and nowhere at once.
He kisses her hungrily, teeth nipping gently at her bottom lip before his lips envelop it fully, as if to apologize for the momentary discomfort. She's sitting on his lap, thighs on either side of his, her hands locked on the sides of his neck. She sighs. He moans. Then he moves his hands from her hips to the button of her jeans.
Lois pulls away from him and sweeps her hair off her neck. "I should go…" she says quietly and begins to extricate herself from his lap.
She wants him. God, does she want him, but she hasn't had the best record when it comes to guys and falling into bed with them at the first convenient time. They'd gotten close a few weeks ago at the McDougal Inn and she'd really thought they were ready. But then she'd started thinking that running into Chloe and Oliver and then being possessed by an evil banshee was a sign that they weren't. Normally she wouldn't pay any attention to the signs; but she wants it to be different with Clark because deep down she knows that he is absolutely it for her. So when it happens, she wants it to be completely perfect.
He sighs as she slips her purple oxford shirt over her shoulders. "Lois, don't you think this is a little silly? We're not teenagers. My parents aren't going to walk in any minute."
"No, they aren't," she admits. "But we've talked about this and we agreed to take things slowly."
"You talked about it…" Clark grumbles, but he shoots her a half-smile as he shifts his weight on the couch.
She feels bad because she really hadn't given him much of a say in the matter after their disastrous first weekend away together. Instead, she's been her usual bossy self ever since and nipped any of his attempts at advanced intimacy in the bud before they can really get started.
When she finishes buttoning her shirt, she sinks onto the couch cushion beside him and places her hand on the top of his thigh. "I just want to be careful."
His cheeks burn red. "Lois, I have pro—"
"Not like that!" she adds quickly, realizing a second too late how her words could be interpreted. "I want to be careful about us. I need to know for sure…"
He tilts his head in confusion.
"Ugh, this isn't coming out right." She rubs her face in frustration. "I want it to be perfect and I'm just…"
"Scared?" he supplies.
Lois nods with wide eyes.
He shrugs and winds his fingers through hers. "I'm scared, too. I haven't been with anyone other than Lana and—" He stops short.
Her breath catches in her throat. Clark never mentions Lana anymore and she's grateful for that. They've only ever partially dealt with everything that happened between them and Lois would be lying if she said she wasn't still a little bothered by how easily he'd shaken her off when Lana had waltzed back into town the night of Chloe's wedding reception. What's to say he wouldn't choose Lana over her again if given the choice? No one has seen or heard from her since and Lois desperately wants to believe that she's out of their lives forever. But she has never been an optimist.
"Is…" he begins shakily, tracing circles on the inside of her palm with his thumb. "Is that why you don't want to? Because I don't have a laundry list of ex-lovers? You think I won't be… Good?"
She knows Clark isn't terribly experienced, but that's never bothered her. And if his kissing is any indication of what's to come, he's a damn natural. She studies him for a moment, drinking in every part of him that she loves with her entire heart.
It's a terrible idea, she knows this, but Lois insinuates herself back in his lap and kisses him deeply, savoring the seemingly perfect way they fit together.
"Not even a little bit, Smallville," she answers him. "Now stop overthinking and kiss me."
It's a little after one in the morning when she finally comes up for air long enough to realize that she really needs to get back to the Talon.
But Clark is persistent. Even as she pushes back from him, his mouth latches onto the delicate patch of skin just above the valley of her cleavage. Goddamn it. If he doesn't stop—and soon—she's going to abandon every single one of her morals and jump him on the couch. That's probably exactly what he wants.
"I have to go," she says firmly, twining her fingers in his thick hair and tugging gently.
His arms tighten around her waist. "Stay," he says so quietly she almost misses it. "Please? Stay?" His second request is louder, more powerful.
But she has to sleep at some point and if she doesn't get off this couch, that's never going to happen.
She shakes her head, pulling the two halves of her shirt together. At least she'd managed to keep it on this time. "I can't… We're taking it slow, remember?"
"Lois, come on. It's late. Just stay here."
She sighs and buttons up her shirt. "This is the part where you walk me to the door and kiss me goodnight and tell me to call when I get home and that you'll pick me up tomorrow morning." She retrieves her purse from the coffee table and crosses her arms, waiting for him to join her.
When they reach the kitchen door, he pulls her into him and kisses her chastely. "Stay," he says softly when their lips part. "Please. No strings, no expectations."
"I don't have any clothes here." Maybe he'll listen to reason if nothing else.
He shrugs. "So you'll borrow pajamas from what my mom left, and we'll swing by the Talon tomorrow morning. You can shower and get ready there while I get us breakfast. I know how much you love a Talon cappuccino."
She purses her lips and shakes her head. It's so tempting… She does sleep better in his arms than she does alone. That much had been clear from just the two nights they spent together.
"I just…" Clark fingers the ends of her hair gently. "I want to hold you, Lois. I want to feel you against me all night. I want to listen to you breathe. I want to wake up beside you in the morning and kiss you awake and tell you every second of every day how much you mean to me. Because now that I have you, I don't ever want to let you go. Not for a whole night. Not even for a whole minute."
Goddamn it.
She bites her lip and studies his face. His lips are swollen and plump from their marathon make-out session, stubble ghosts across his chin, and his eyes are wide and pleading. She feels her resolve start to crumble. It is late and although the drive across town to the Talon doesn't take long, she'll probably be able to get more sleep in Clark's bed than in her own. It won't be the first time they've shared a bed in the most innocent of ways, and she trusts Clark more than anyone she's ever met. She knows that even though the waiting is practically killing them both, he'll respect her wishes to keep things chaste. Honestly, she's more worried about herself being able to control her impulses.
"Okay," she relents, standing on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. "But I'm not sleeping in one of your mother's nightgowns."
Undoubtedly, one of the greatest things about sharing a bed with Clark is how she can sink completely into the way he smells. Lois had gotten whiffs of him at the inn, but it had been just like when they sneak kisses in the copy room or on the elevator-tempting, but not nearly what she craves. Now that she's snuggled in his softest plaid shirt, wrapped in his muscular arms, and between his sheets, it's simply intoxicating. She'd fallen in love with his scent years ago during her first night at the Kent Farm, but she'd denied loving it so much for years. She'd been such a fool.
She twists around in his embrace until she faces him. His eyes are heavy with exhaustion, but he still smiles sleepily at her.
"Hi," he mumbles.
"Thank you, Clark."
"For what?"
"For waiting." She strokes his cheek. "For being willing to wait until I'm ready. A lot of guys wouldn't have and it just… It means a lot."
Clark smiles at her and then his forehead creases in that adorable way it always does when he's thinking too hard about something. "Not that I don't appreciate the honor, but why am I different? Why is it so important that it be perfect for us?"
"Because," she says simply, "you are the one. You're my last first kiss, my last first… Everything." She laughs at herself, flips onto her back, and loops her hair around her ears. "Jesus, it sounds stupid when I say it out loud."
"It doesn't," he counters before he grips her face and kisses her softly. "You're my last first, too. You're most definitely worth waiting for. And I meant what I said—if it means I get to be with you, I will wait forever."
The first time he said it, she'd blushed uncontrollably and mumbled something about forever being a very long time. Tonight, however, as electricity trickles up and down her spine and he kisses her until she's breathless and dizzy, forever doesn't seem long enough.
A/N: Thank you all so much!