Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Lois is usually a fan of night life. Dancing, drinking assholes under the table – it’s all her jam. 

Tonight, though, she just isn’t feeling it. The club itself is perfectly fine, a neon animal in the middle of downtown Metropolis. The drinks are fine, the music is fine. It’s all fine. 

Her date is the problem. 

Lois loves her little cousin with every piece of her heart, but she wants to give her a lecture on the finer details of setting someone up on a blind date. In an effort to keep Lois from feeling like a third wheel, Chloe and Jimmy invited Brad, a guy from their internship at the Planet, to tag along. 

Brad is handsome enough, she supposes. She’s huddled beside one of the speaker stacks at the edge of the dance floor. Jimmy and Chloe are grinding on each other feet away, and Brad is talking her ear off about something. She can’t hear him over the All-American Rejects song rattling her eardrums. 

She smiles. “I’m gonna go to the restroom!” 

“What?” Brad shouts. She pats him on the arm and starts towards the other end of the club. Mercifully, he doesn’t follow. 

Lois doesn’t head to the restrooms; she heads to the bar. There’s a crowd, standing room only. In her heels, she’s at least tall enough to make eye contact with the bartender. “Tequila shot!” she shouts, holding up a hand. “Pretty please!” 

The bartender ignores her. She groans and tries again. “Tequila shot, mister!” 

Again, nothing. 

“Please give me tequila, pal,” she whines. “I’ll take my shirt off for you!” 

Behind her, a low voice says, “Two Casa Nobles, Donny.” 

The bartender who, until that moment, has avoided all eye contact with Lois’s area of the room, looks up and nods. “You got it, Kal.” 

Lois spins, nearly knocking into the six-foot-something wall of tall, dark, and yummy. He’s a head taller than her with a head full of thick, black curls. She wants to sink her fingers into it. “Hey,” she says. “How come they listen to you and not me?” 

Yummy guy grins. It’s not a kind grin, it’s the sort that eats you alive. The sight makes her head spin. “They know what happens when they don’t,” he says easily. His voice is low. She lets him take her by the arm and guide her towards the bartop. Two shot glasses slide toward them. “Thanks, Donny,” Kal says, idly running a finger down the back of her arm. He gives the bartender one of his grins, sharper than the one he’d given Lois. “Next time, you’ll give the lady whatever she wants.” 

The bartender swallows. “Sure thing, Kal.” 

Lois can sense it, the power this Kal guy has over everyone around them. She tries not to think about how much it turns her on. 

Kal picks up the glasses and hands her one. He catches her gaze, taps their glasses together, and says, “Cheers, sweetheart.” 

She blames her flush on the liquor’s burn. Expensive tequila slides down her throat, warming her insides. She licks her lips.  

Kal laughs. “Oh, you’re trouble.” 

“Why do you say that?” 

He takes the glass from her, sets it back on the bar. “I’ve seen men three times your size choke on that stuff.” He steps closer and idly unclasps one of the pins holding back her hair. “You downed it like candy.” 

The newly-freed strand of hair drops against her cheek. He thinks she’s trouble? She’ll be trouble. Her hand falls to trace his waistband. “I’ve been around the block a few times.” 

Kal looks down at her teasing hand and back up to her face. He grins, and his eyes darken. Lois is beyond turned on. Her inner thighs are damp, unprotected by her sorry excuse for a thong. 

“You want to go around the block with me, sweetheart?” 

Oh, he is a bad idea. 

Lois bites her lip. She tilts her eyes up, doing her best to make them as doe-like and dewy as possible. “What if I do?” 

He takes her hand from his waist and uses it to pull her against his body. “Then I think you should follow me.” 

Kal takes her hand in his, grip deliciously tight, and starts a path into the fray. She’s close enough to feel the heat of his body, the cotton fresh scent of his dark jeans and tee. He makes a turn to the right, and Lois stops. “Wait!” 

He does, still keeping her close. “Wait?” 

Lois widens her eyes and nods. “My group is over there,” she says. “I don’t want my cousin and her boyfriend seeing me sneaking off to…” 

Kal smirks. “To what?” 

She huffs. “You know.” 

“Oh, I do,” he says. He takes a step closer. “That’s not why you want me to turn around, though. You don’t care about your cousin. It’s your boyfriend you don’t want to see.” 

Lois’ eyes widen. “I never said anything about a boyfriend. Which, FYI, he so isn’t. He’s just this guy from their internship program Chlo thought I might like. Or maybe Jimmy thought I might like. Honestly, it was probably a joint effort to keep me from being Lois the Third Wheel all night, and –” 

His mouth is on hers, electric and demanding. The words in her throat tear off into a whine. She wraps her fingers in the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer. He bites her lip, coaxing and pulling and making her certifiably insane. 

And then he pulls away. 

Lois is panting. She gives a breathless, “Well, hello there, sailor.” 

Kal smirks. He runs his thumb across the outline of her jaw, coming up to trace her bottom lip. “God, you’re cute.” He pushes his thumb in between her lips, running it across her teeth and tongue. She clamps her mouth around it and sucks. When Kal pulls it free, a string of saliva hangs between them. He wipes it on her dress and says, “I know what I’m doing. Follow me.” 

She does. The crowd seems to part for him like the Red Sea. There are no sticky, sweat-slick bodies to push through with Kal in the lead. It’s like the crowd knows better than to touch him. 

He leads her up a flight of stairs, to a level made of plexiglass and neon light that overlooks the dance floor. A velvet VIP rope swings at the entrance. The bouncer takes one look at Kal, nods, and lets them through. 

There aren’t many people on this level. The ones who are have tucked themselves into booths, making out or talking low in the shadows. The bass from the speakers below rattles the floor. Lois can feel the newest song of the Summer vibrating the stems of her stilettos. 

“Are we going to sit down?” she asks, looking towards the booth. 

“No,” Kal says. He takes her to the edge of the clear balcony overlooking the writhing club below. His front is against her back. He reaches for the strand of hair he’d freed a few minutes before and wraps it idly around his finger. “You’re not afraid of heights, are you?” 

She presses back against him, feels him inhale sharply. “No,” she says. “You?” 

His smile is pressed against her neck in the form of a kiss. “I used to be.” 

“Really?” She can’t imagine Kal being afraid of anything. 

He huffs a laugh against her skin. “I got over it.” He brings his hands to the hem of her short dress and runs his fingers across the skin beneath. “Your little boyfriend,” he says, “where is he?” 

Lois looks over the crowd. It takes her a moment to find him. She’s almost forgotten what he looks like. Finally she spots him, a lanky thing with a mop of brown hair. He’s doing an off-beat step-touch dance move by a speaker tower. She nods in his direction. “There.” 

“A real winner,” Kal drawls. His hands are slowly pulling up the fabric of her dress. “Can’t believe you let him out of your sight.” 

The hem of her dress is now uncomfortably close to the lace of her thong. She gasps and looks down. Kal catches the movement. He kisses her neck, biting down enough to force her to look back up. 

“Keep your eyes up, baby.” He pushes a hand under her dress, pushes the thong aside, and circles her dripping entrance. “Do you want me?” 

“Fuck, yes,” Lois says. The beat below drops, and it spurs her to spread her legs wider, granting him deeper access. She keeps her eyes up, obediently watching the crowd as he works into her with a finger, then two. Three. His thumb circles her clit to the rhythm of the song. 

“Think they’re watching you?” he asks, pumping deep. She whines. “They could watch the prettiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen come all over my hand if they’d only look up.” 

“Oh, my god.” Lois grips the railing. “I’m gonna come.” 

His hand stills. She grinds back against it, but he keeps it just out of reach. “You are?” 

She bites her lip. “Mhmm.” 

“Tell him.” 

“What?” 

Kal moves his hand again. “Your boyfriend,” he says. “Tell him you need me to make you come.” 

Lois feels her walls clench around his hand. “I need you to make me come!” 

“Oh, I know,” Kal says. His voice is rough and low, not as unaffected as he’d like her to think. “I know, baby. But tell him. Tell your boyfriend how bad you need me.” 

“I don’t even remember his name,” Lois whines. She can feel eyes on her, but none of them are coming from below. These eyes are from the strangers in dark booths, ones who don’t care about her name or story. They just care about her imminent unraveling. 

“Try,” Kal demands. 

Her eyes find him again, side-stepping with some blonde on the dance floor. It hits her. “Brad!” 

Kal laughs. “Good girl,” he says. “Tell Brad what you need me to do.” 

“Make me come,” Lois says. She is vibration and electricity. She is on a glass balcony with the most gorgeous human she’s ever seen and she’s ready to fucking crack. “Oh, fuck, Brad, I need him! I need him to make me come! Kal!” 

She cries out as he lets her crash over the edge. Her hands grip the railing like twin vices. Kal keeps his hand moving, working her through the most atomic orgasm of her life. She’s panting, coming down into soft delirium. 

“Lois?” His voice is soft velvet in her ear

“Yeah?” She leans against him. He’s so strong. 

“You want me to fuck you?” 

She inhales sharply. The buzz of the club is in her bones. It’s a delicious reflex to say, “Yes, please.” 

Kal groans behind her. His hands lift up her dress, clench the swell of her ass and squeeze. “God, you’re fucking perfect.” 

Lois reaches a hand back. She’s a little desperate to dig her fingers into Kal’s hair. He lets her, huffing an amused laugh against her neck as she tugs. 

“Having fun?” he asks. 

She presses her ass against him. “Not as much fun as I could be having.” 

Kal laughs, decadent and hungry. It’s a sound that should scare her. Instead, it just makes her pussy throb. It makes her a little desperate. She’ll do anything he wants, she thinks, as long as he puts his dick inside her in the next thirty seconds. 

“This is soaked,” Kal says, moving his hand along the outside of her ruined thong. “Nobody’s fucked you like that in a long time, huh?” He slips a finger beneath her underwear and pulls, snapping the fabric. It hits the floor. “The way you need it?” 

Lois whines. God, she hasn’t been this desperate for a man. She’s never been this desperate for sex, for release, period. He’s got her under some sort of spell, she’s sure of it. There’s no other explanation as to why the Lois Lane is begging for a stranger to hit it from behind, in full view of an oblivious crowd. 

“Say please,” he commands lazily. 

“Please.” 

She hears but doesn’t see him unbuckle his pants. He groans as he lines himself up against her entrance and pushes in. Lois cries out, whimpering a frantic string of, “yes, yes yes!” He’s so big, the biggest she’s ever had. It’s exquisite. 

“Feels good?” he asks, voice a low groan in her ear. 

Lois can only whine. 

“Couldn’t get you to shut up twenty minutes ago,” he says, pulling out slightly before thrusting back in. He’s establishing a bone-melting rhythm. “No words now?” 

No, Lois thinks. There are no words. She gives an intelligent, “Fuck!” 

“You’re taking it so well,” Kal says. He’s rutting into her faster now. With every thrust he gives, she pushes back, desperate for him to fill her up. 

“Thanks,” she pants, making him grin against her shoulder. He kisses it, bites it. 

And fuck, she’s close. She can feel her second orgasm building, kindling in the tips of her toes. She curls them against the pads of her heels, tilts her head back. Kal has her throat in his hand. He isn’t squeezing or trying to cut her air supply; if he was, she’d probably push him off. 

(Honestly, though, she might not. She’s so fucking close –) 

He’s tilting her neck up, forcing her gaze over the crowd. She lets her eyes skim across the surface of the dance floor, examining sweaty bodies and sparkles and leather. 

“Look at them,” he murmurs in her ear. “All those people, none of them know power like this.” 

She gasps. “Power?” 

He hums, a low sound that shoots straight to her cunt. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” he says, “but nothing goes on in this club, this city, that I don’t know about. You’re getting your brains fucked out by one of the most powerful men in Metropolis. And my only concern right now is you, and how much pleasure I can pump into this tight little cunt. That’s power, baby.” 

Lois moans. It’s a throaty, guttural sound. A sound made of ideas she hadn’t considered, of longings and desires left untapped. She had no idea something like that, the idea of being powerful, or of being power’s plaything, turned her on. But holy fuck, does it. 

She’s so close to the edge it hurts. Sweat drips down her neck, pooling in her collarbone. If she was facing Kal, she’d let him lick it off. Next time, she’ll make sure she sees his face. She wants to watch those beautiful features contort in ecstasy. Because of her. 

“I’m close,” she manages. “God, Kal, I’m so close.” 

“I know,” he says. “I can feel your little cunt clamping down on me. It’s adorable, how badly you need this.” 

“Please,” she whines. 

“Please what?” 

“Please let me come.” 

“Tell me you see it,” he says, stroking her neck with his thumb. 

“I see it,” she says quickly. 

He laughs. “What do you see?” 

“I see them,” she says. “All the people who could see us if they just looked up.” 

“And that turns you on?” 

She growls. “Can’t you tell?” 

He moves the hand that’s wrapped around her waist to her clit and circles it with his thumb. “Okay, baby. Come for me. Come.” 

Lois practically screams. He lets her, not making a single move to stifle the noise. Her howl of ecstasy blends with the new Britney track. Not a single fucking person looks their way. They’re too high up, too far removed. 

Gods. 

She feels his pace start to stagger. He grunts, and she feels him start to pull out. 

“Don’t,” she whines, reaching back to try and hold him in place. “Come in me, please. Wanna feel you.” 

Kal groans. “You’re the perfect fucking woman,” he pants. “Where have you been hiding?” 

Lois smiles, aftershocks already shooting through her veins. “Come on, come on, your turn to come for me.” 

“Fucking hell,” he groans, and comes. They both moan. Lois clenches her pussy, trying her best to hold him inside, every part of him. She’s never felt like this before. She’s on fire. She might die if this ever stops. 

When they catch their breath, Kal presses a kiss to her neck. “If you need a Plan B, you know where to find me.” 

And then he’s buckling his pants and disappearing into the shadows, leaving only a kiss for her to remember him by. She’s left staring after him, panting and trying to hold in the hot cum running down her thighs. 

#

“So,” Chloe asks as they’re climbing into bed that night. She’s staying at the little apartment the Daily Planet internship’s put her little cousin up in. “Where’d you get off to tonight?” 

Lois stiffens slightly. She quickly snuggles under the comforter of their shared full-bed, not wanting her body language to give anything away. “What?” 

Chlo rolls her eyes. “You disappeared for like, forty-five minutes, Lo. Brian thought you ditched him and went home.” 

“Sorry,” she says. “I know you wanted me and Brian to hit it off.” 

Chloe shrugs. “It’s alright. He’s more Jimmy’s friend than mine. But really, where were you?” 

Oh, she’s so not going to let this one go. Lois says, “I went up to the balcony. You know, the VIP section? I let this hot guy named Kal fuck me from behind. It was awesome.” 

Chloe laughs. “God, Lo, fine. I digress. Good night.” She switches off the light. 

Lois snuggles against her pillow. In her mind, she sees green eyes and black hair, a low gravelly voice and big, strong hands. She sighs. “Good night.” 

___ 

ONE YEAR LATER 

Dear God, she’s still alive. She just drove headfirst into a cornfield without braking, how is she still alive? 

She steps out of her car. There’s a figure a few feet away. A human figure. Tentatively, she steps out of the car and moves towards it. 

“Hey!” she yells. “Are you okay? I’m Lois, Lois Lane. And – oh my God, Kal?” 

Chapter Text

Lois looks up at the barn loft. She’s never seen anything like it. People don’t usually set up camp in barns like this, do they? When she told Martha she needed to talk to Clark, she’d sent her out here like barn lofts were perfectly normal places for teenage boys to be. 

Maybe they were in Smallville. Chloe’s always telling her this town is weird. 

She crosses her arms and starts up the wooden staircase. Should she announce her presence with a cough or a heavy footfall? I mean, this guy gave her the best sex she’s had in her life, does she really need to –? 

“Lois?” 

Well, that solves that. She clears her throat. “Yeah, it’s me.” 

When she clears the top landing, she finds Kal – Clark – standing by a large window that takes up the majority of the loft’s back wall. The sun is just starting its descent outside. He’s in a blue flannel and jeans, hands in his pocket. The only remnant of the boy she knew is his hair, which is a mussed-up mess of jet black curls. 

Even his face is different. He was a shark ready to feed when she met him in Metropolis. His jaw was terse and his eyes were lit. The boy standing in front of her is not a shark. He’s a puppy dog. 

“I’m sorry,” he says before she can get a word out. 

Lois laughs. “God, Smallville. I’m the one barging in on you. What are you sorry for?” 

He swallows and drops his head. “So much.” 

She sighs and lowers herself onto the old striped couch facing him. “Want to start chronologically or in order of severity?” 

His shoulders slump.

“Come on, Smallville, that was a joke,” Lois says, leaning forward. She lightens her voice. “Look. You might have screwed over your parents and Chloe and Lana and whoever else, but you haven’t screwed over me, okay?” 

He lifts his head, and for a moment, she expects him to sink deeper into his brooding spell. Instead, he tilts his head back and laughs. Full, big belly laughs. He laughs so hard his eyes start to water. 

Lois blinks. “Should I call Comedy Central? I didn’t know I was this much of a hoot.” 

Kal/Clark/Smallville shakes his head. He’s still laughing. He cups his hands over his nose and mouth and comes to sit beside Lois, shoulders still shaking. 

Finally, he says, “I’m sorry.” 

“Yeah, we covered that,” she says, side-eyeing him. 

“I just… fuck. Twelve hours ago, I was naked in a cornfield and I didn’t even know my own name. And of all the people who could’ve found me, it was you?” He sighs, sobering. “I didn’t even know you were Chloe’s cousin.” 

Lois shrugs. “We don’t really look alike, Smallville. How could you have known?” 

“I just should’ve known.” 

Lois shifts on the couch. She tries to keep her voice nonchalant as she says, “Maybe. I mean, you did say there wasn’t much that went on in Metropolis that you didn’t know about. Not that I was a major blip on the radar or anything, but I bet you were keeping tabs on Chlo.” 

A pause. “We’re talking about it?” 

It’s Lois’s turn to laugh. “Oh, yeah, Smallville. We’re talking about it.” 

“Why do you keep calling me that?” he asks. “‘Smallville?’” 

“I…” she starts. Pauses. What is she supposed to tell him? I call you Smallville because Kal’s the name I call out when I masturbate? It’s what I named my vibrator as a joke? “I didn’t know what you wanted to be called. I know everybody calls you Clark, but you… weren’t Clark when I met you.” 

“Call me Clark,” he says. A dark cloud drifts over his face. “I’m Clark. Clark Kent.” 

Lois nods and braces her elbows on her knees. “Good to know,” she says. “I’m Lois. Lois Lane.” 

He cracks a slight smile. “I guess you can call me Smallville if you want.” He leans back on the couch, shakes his head at the rafters above. “God knows you’ve earned it after what I did to you.” 

“Okay, let’s get back to that,” Lois says. She pats his knee. Electricity crackles against the pads of her fingers where their bodies make contact. “What exactly are you sorry for?” 

Clark looks at her like she’s said something in a language he can’t understand. Something frustrating. “Am I the only one with amnesia here?” 

Lois huffs. “Apparently not! I know you were obviously having a moment that summer, not that anybody will talk about it, but it’s not like you gunned me down in the street.” 

“I was horrible to you!” he says, louder than she’s heard him speak all day. “I took advantage of you, and then I just left you.” 

“Okay, so you weren’t exactly a gentleman,” Lois agrees. She meets his eyes, and for the first time, she sees it. Recognition. His eyes aren’t sharp, but they’re not placid and agreeable. They’re fiery and honest. “But you didn't take advantage of me. You fucked the daylights out of me and gave an Irish goodbye –” 

“God, don’t put it like that!” 

She rolls her eyes. “You literally told me you could tell that ‘nobody had fucked me like I needed it in a long time!’ Don’t pretend like your fucking ears burn when you hear someone say ‘golly.’” 

He doesn’t respond. “You remember that?” 

Lois laughs dryly. “Of course I do.” She swallows. Quietly, she adds, “If you’re gonna be sorry about anything, apologize for being the best sex of my life and not faxing me a reference list for any of your yummy friends.” 

Outside, a bird chirps. Lois wonders if she’s said too much. She’s not entirely sure what she’s doing in Smallville, and she’s not entirely sure if she’s going to stay. If she’s leaving, she’s going to try for a second round before her car wheels turn any gravel. She at least has a chance to get it all out in the open, what that night meant to her. 

Clark’s not saying anything, so she keeps going. “I haven’t told Chloe or anyone about what happened, so don’t worry about that. And you don’t have to be sorry for ghosting me, you clearly had your own shit going on. You could apologize for that thong you ripped, I guess. I wanted you to rip it off, though, so. No harm, no foul, right? I wanted it, Clark. Don’t worry about that, okay? I wanted it. Like I said, best sex of my life. No contest. It’s a memory I look back on fondly and often. Nightly, even, so –” 

She breaks off. His lips are on hers, her face in his hands. Her words muffle against his lips, dismantling into a contented sigh. 

He pulls away. His eyes are twin fireflies blinking in a lantern. “You never stop talking, do you?” 

Lois shakes her head. “Not really.” 

Clark kisses her again. He dives deeper this time, parting her lips with his tongue and pushing his hands into her hair. Her hands reach for the buttons on his flannel, and she works the buttons open as he grazes her bottom lip with her teeth. He covers her hand with his own and pops the last few buttons. They go flying, bouncing against the hardwood. Her hands are trembling. 

He’s breathing hard. He pulls away just enough to meet her gaze. His firefly eyes flicker. “I think about that night, too,” he says. “All the time.” 

“You do?” 

When he nods, their noses brush. “I think about the way you felt in my hands. The way it felt to be inside you,” he says. He kisses her again, like she’s a dessert he has to sample before it’s taken away. “Even when I wasn’t supposed to, I thought of you. Of all the things I would change if I had the chance.” 

This gives Lois pause. She pulls away slightly, looks up. She’s panting, and she’s sure her hair’s a mess. “Change?” 

Firefly eyes widen, break free of their lantern. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he says quickly, fiercely. “I only meant that I spent so much time thinking about everything I’d do differently the next time.” 

She leans back in. Her heartbeat is a drum. “What would you do?” 

He runs his thumb across her bottom lip. “I would watch your face,” he says. The words fall from his mouth like a confession. He pushes both hands into her hair, and she lets him pull her closer. “I would tell you how beautiful you are. I would memorize every expression and sound you make.” 

Lois lets him pull her into his lap. She wants to feel him everywhere. “You can watch me now,” she says, “if you want to.” 

Those few words make her feel more vulnerable than she ever did that night at the club. 

His flannel is off, discarded on the floor. His cheeks are red and his eyes are wild, and his voice is a rasp as he says, “Yes, please.” 

The words make her whine. He was dangerous as Kal, addictive and explosive. A match that set her insides blazing and expiring in a puff of ecstasy. As Clark, he’s every bit as addictive. Delicious, deliriously so. It’s making her dizzy, the way he’s looking at her. Like he wants to consume her and be consumed. 

He raises his arms as she tugs at his white t-shirt. Underneath, he’s all solid muscle and carved abs. She runs her hands across his chest, down the plains of his stomach, charting a muscle memory of everything she never got the chance to touch that night at the club. 

He groans as her fingers twine into the belt loops of his jeans. She tugs, urging his mouth to hers. He goes without hesitation, working hands underneath her t-shirt as he does. She lets him pull it up and away, lets him cup her breasts through her sports bra. 

“I’ve been thinking about these,” he says, “every night since you left. About how stupid I was to leave them alone.” 

Lois giggles, and he smiles. She runs a finger down the metal teeth of his pants zipper trail, applying pressure with her fingernail. He exhales sharply. “You can do more than think about them,” she says, and pulls her bra over her head. 

His hands go immediately to them. He rubs the mounds with the full grip of his hand and runs his thumb along the outline of her areola. He leans in, kissing the soft skin before clamping his mouth down, biting and sucking until she’s a squirming mess in his lap. As he pulls her apart, she claws at his hair. She wishes she’d had the access to do this last time, taking in curls by the fistful. 

She pulls down his zipper, and he moans. In what feels like an instant, he has her on her back. His forearms are braced on either side of her head. His jeans and shoes have been kicked off. Even his underwear is gone. 

“No fair,” she whines, running her hands across the hard lines of his shoulders. “You cheated. My pants aren’t even off yet.” 

Clark smiles. “We can fix that.” He props himself up on one arm and helps her wriggle out of her jeans. God, they’re low-rise, but not low enough. They’re tossed aside with the rest of their clothes. “No thong this time,” he says, running a hand over the wet seam of her plain cotton underwear. 

“I spent my week running from helicopters and creepy guys with guns,” she manages. “I opted for practicality.” 

His hands run over the drenched cloth. “I appreciate the variety.” And then they’re gone, torn away like old paper. 

He says, “Do you want me?” 

“Is the Pope Catholic?” 

He nudges her with his nose. “Yes or no.” 

“Yes.” 

She feels a slight whoosh of air, and suddenly there’s the sound of a condom unwrapping. Clark’s already rolling the thing down his cock. She didn’t even see him grab it. 

“Another thing I need to apologize for,” Clark says, lowering himself over her and lining up against her entrance. “I should have –” 

She shakes her head. “Nuh-uh. It was awesome. I kept your cum inside me as long as I could.” 

“But I really should have –” 

Lois smiles, gives a breathy laugh. “Well, you are now. Please move.” She arches her hips against him. “If you don’t move, I think I might actually die.” 

He does. 

They both cry out as he pumps into her cunt, driving up to the hilt. Their eyes are locked, bolted with the key thrown out the window. She doesn’t miss a second of the way his mouth drops open or the moan that works its way from his throat. He knows he’s tracking the way her chest tilts towards him, the sweat beading its way across her forehead. 

Screw that night at the club. That was nothing. This is fucking. This is fucking everything. 

Her eyes widen. “Clark,” she pants, “Clark!” 

“I’m right here,” he says. “God, you’re perfect, Lois. Absolutely perfect.” 

“I think I’m gonna come,” she says. Her legs are wrapped around his hips, and she curls her toes. 

He grins. “You sound surprised.” 

Lois shakes her head. “You’re not even touching my clit,” she whines. “You’re just inside me, and I’m gonna fucking come, Jesus fucking Christ – !” 

She tumbles over the edge with the elegance and grace of a boulder splashing down a waterfall. 

A litany of his name strings from her mouth. She doesn’t know any other words. Holy fuck, how did he do that? She’s never come without direct clit stimulation, not ever. She didn’t think she could. 

The world comes back to her slowly, and she watches with parted lips and eyes as Clark comes. His muscles don’t shake and he doesn’t flop his body on top of hers. He holds position, chanting her name as he comes down. 

Neither of them moves. They stay in place, connected and panting as the chirping birds outside trade shifts with the chirping crickets. 

When Clark lowers his body onto hers, it’s gentle and warm. He kisses the crook of her neck, teases her earlobe with his teeth. 

“I take back everything I said,” Lois says, twining her fingers into his dove-soft hair. “This was the best sex of my life.” 

Clark laughs. “Fuck,” he says. “Mine, too.” 

# 

Having Lois living with them on the farm is a challenge passed directly to Clark from God Himself. His parents know – how could they not? Anyone with eyes or ears can sense the way he and Lois watch each other. The way they bicker and touch. It takes every ounce of his superstrength not to pick her up and fuck her on the kitchen table at the drop of a hat. 

He can’t wait until they have a place of their own. 

(Is it too soon to be thinking things like that? Probably. He can’t help it, though). 

It’s strange, he thinks, to be in a relationship and be happy. Loving Lana was torture. They were never at peace together. There were no secret afternoon bubble baths or naps on the porch swing. There certainly were no giggles or good morning kisses. 

He’s glad Lana’s found someone, too. She deserves to be happy as much as he does. He understands now that they were never going to find that happiness together. 

They’re in the Cawatchee Caves now. Lana, like everyone else, sees it. Lois and Clark, Clark and Lois. 

“Us?” he asks, a smile curving around his mouth. He and Lois haven’t exactly made their societal debut as an official couple, but it makes his heart thump excitedly to know that other people see them that way. As an us. 

“Yeah,” says Lana, smiling. “You and Lois.” 

“Lois?” Clark crosses his arms. “She’s bossy. She’s stuck up. She’s rude. I can’t stand her.” 

Lana grins. “The best ones always start that way.” 

Clark breaks his facade and grins too. “Yeah,” he says. “They do.” 

#