Almost Partners (Chapter Fifteen)

"Touch me, Clark."

Of any three words she could have said, she had to pick those three. It was hard to refuse a request he so wanted to... Her fingers were working on his shirt without the aid of her eyes. They were on his. And they were clear and intent. Sex had always been easy between them. It was just in everything before and after that they lost step.

"You know what I thought that night, after the party?" She traced the emblem on his suit, her fingers forming a slow S. "I thought you just... weren't attracted to me, interested... I don't think that's true." She smiled slightly. "In hindsight, between you and your alter ego, I don't get much alone time."

"I'm sorry if I..."

"Even when I was alone," she cut in. "I found myself thinking of one of you. And I didn't even know why."

He did. They were connected. After all they'd been through, how could they not be? She wasn't just a phase in his life, nor he in hers. Did she know that, even in her state?

"I just want to feel... something besides fear, confusion." She licked her lips and leaned up to his throat again. "I want to feel..."

You, his mind finished as his eyes slid shut. Just you. Only you. It was always her, even when it wasn't. Being with Lana, Alicia... they were avoidance. He couldn't accept her. She believed in him too much. She expected too much of him. She was another destiny to avoid. It was all so clear. Was she seeing it, too?

His shirt fell down his arms, his tie still hanging from his neck. It must look silly over the suit, but she didn't seem amused. Her lips slid back and forth over his jaw line, down his neck, where neck met shoulder. It was about when her fingers moved to his belt that he realized this would really happen.

He caught her hands between them and pulled back, searching her eyes. "Are you sure?"

She stepped backward, disentangling her hands and pulling off her jacket. "Does it matter?"

Maybe it didn't. It had been hands-off for months, even as he'd fantasized about her like a teenager. He'd told himself she was too mixed up. She'd hate him later. But who was to say what would happen? She might have died in that car. Whatever would happen, he wouldn't deny himself this.

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She fell backwards to the bed, her feet tangled in her skirt. She kicked, trying to dislodge it as he bore down on her. His outer clothes were gone, but the suit was still there. She'd tried to pull it off, but couldn't get past ineffectual tugging as he'd been more than a little distracting. Kissing her neck, nearly ripping her blouse, moving them backward towards the bedroom she'd been sleeping in alone.

She needed this. For so long, even before Clark or Superman popped into her life, she'd been working, her mind on nothing but the story. She wanted to get rid of her mind now, if only for a while. She wanted to be flesh and warmth and rushing blood.

Her pulse raced as she crawled backwards, almost afraid, as if when he reached her he'd devour her like a wolf... She was nearly right.

Teeth nipped at her hipbone, soothed over by moist lips and tongue. As surreal as it was to have Superman pulling her panties down her legs, bending over between them, almost faultlessly latching onto her clitoris... It wasn't just surreal. It was right. She'd felt it in every kiss. This had been building up for a long time.

She cried out hoarsely as he sucked hard. She could be coming in seconds, but not like this. Not without seeing him. The way her body was tensing, she could be out of it and not truly see him, every inch of him, not feel that first push in...

"No," she groaned, pushing weakly at his head.

He looked up, but didn't stop. His tongue darted forward and she was suddenly seeing damned stars.

"Clark," she panted. "Want to... see you... Stop."

He did, leaning up and over her. "What's wr..." He trailed off, staring at her bra. It was slightly dislodged, but still on. He bent his head and caught a nipple through the lace. She let out something that was part moan, part giggle. He was easily distracted.

"Clark..." She pushed at his shoulders. "Take it off."

He met her gaze blearily and nodded, pulling the bra upward.

She laughed as it caught under her arms. "No. You." She sat up, pulling the bra off herself and tossing it to the side. "Take off the suit." She smiled and pushed him backwards and he let her, his eyes suddenly so serious. She leaned back against the headboard, wondering why that was so. "What's the matter?"

His mouth worked a moment before he closed it and shook his head. "Nothing. I just..."

She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. She'd been put off by him before. Not this time.

"Clark..." She nipped his bottom lip. "I want to see all of you. I want to feel you."

He released a shaky breath against her lips and she was suddenly leaning into air. She landed on her hands and knees on the bed, a slight whooshing in the air. And then he was before her again. Maybe she could understand why he'd seemed so serious. As giddy as the idea of sex, finally sex, made her, this wasn't funny. This was something primal, elemental... She pushed herself up to her knees and drank him in, her pulse thrumming in hidden places. Somewhere in those seconds, she regressed. They both did. They were bodies.

His stood at the foot of the bed. Hers knelt in the middle.

One of them moved, but she couldn't say which.

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He was on her. She was on him. The part of his brain that functioned was glad the bed was large enough to take this game. It was nearly competitive as their bodies tried to find the balance between giving and taking. He nibbled the underside of her breast and she bucked upward, rolling them over, sliding palms and fingernails up his ribcage. There was no finesse. Clumsy hands and mouths grasped, scraped, sucked, bit, pulled... This was madness.

This was heaven.

He caught her hands and rolled them over again, finally remembering he was stronger than her, pinning her wrists to the bare bed. The pillows and blankets were long gone. Dimly, he registered that one corner of the sheet was still hanging on for dear life. Her head tossed next to it as she strained upwards. He pressed downwards and she froze, a high pitched gasp escaping from her lips. He fitted his own lips against hers, quieting her, trying to think.

One of them had to. As it was, his cock was trapped between them and he really had to fix that so he could be inside her. He wanted to be inside her more than he wanted to breathe at the moment. He pulled his lips from hers and rested his forehead on her shoulder, trying to calm things down. She might not understand why this was so frantic, but he did. It had been over six months since either of them had been here. They'd only gone that long twice, once when she'd been dating Jimmy, and again when he'd been away.

He felt her hands pulling, trying to struggle out of his grip. "Clark, I want..."

"I know," he breathed into her skin. "We just need to..." It was then her hips shifted beneath him. They both hissed in a breath, feeling the tip of him touch her where she was warm and wet. He lifted his head and caught her eyes. "Open your legs," he said, his voice a low growl. She did, eyes boring into his, thighs sliding along his hips. "Wider," he said.

Something flashed in her eyes, a combination of fear and want as her legs spread beneath him, trembling lightly.

"It's okay. You're okay."

"It's too much," she breathed. "I can't take..."

"I know." He knew what she meant on some level. The joining of their bodies had been nothing if not intense. It was easier to take when you understood why.

He kept his eyes on hers as he pushed forward, madly wondering if there was some magic here. When the Prince kissed Snow White, the poisoned apple fell from her lips. She came alive. They'd shared kisses since Grady had cast his spell, but never this.

As he slid home, he felt a mixture if deep pleasure and deeper sorrow. Her fingers curled over his hands, her pupils widened, darkening her eyes, but there wasn't that flash of knowledge.

"God, Clark," she breathed, her body straining. "So good."

It was. And he'd take it. If he couldn't have all of her, he'd take what he could. He pulled back and pushed forward. Her eyes slid shut and her neck arched back. He drank in every tremor that went through her body as he kept thrusting, starting slow, steady...

He loosened his hold on her wrists and supported himself on his elbows, threading his fingers in hers, feeling the soft skin between. He sped up, snapping his hips, dragging the tip of him inside her, past that rough spot that always made her nearly yelp with pleasure. And she did yelp, her eyes flying open, her legs trembling on either side of his hips. He let one hand go and pulled her hips higher, trying to angle his thrusts so he dragged against it on every pass in and out.

Their eyes locked again as her hips pushed back, their bodies falling into an instinctive rhythm, so different from the fumbling of only moments ago. Of course they would. Their bodies knew too well what to do. He pushed in, she shoved upwards. Again. Harder. Faster.

He dropped her gaze as his head fell to her neck. "F*ck, Lois. Waited so..."

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Long, her mind finished as they kept pushing against each other. She understood. She didn't know how, but she'd been waiting, too. And not just for sex -- to feel wanted, cherished. Maybe that was what drew her to Clark. She'd called what she saw in his eyes a little crush, but maybe it was more than that. Maybe that was why it had scared her. Because she knew all along that he would make her feel this way, deep down. It was scary to have these feelings. How would she live without this when it was over?

And it would be over. Nothing was forever.

But for now... She pushed back, grunting with the effort. He was strong, hard, large. It was nearly frightening. Even after the events of the day, it was easy to forget that Clark was Superman. But he was. And she had turned him into this -- this beast that now heaved above her, mouth open against her neck.

One hand still trapped hers and she tugged, feeling it give way, running her hand up that tense arm to a muscled shoulder, slick with sweat. Her fingers dug in, her nails scraping lightly, and his head rose up, his mouth open in a silent gasp as he kept pumping inside her.

Sharp tingles radiated outward from where they were joined, flitting all over her body, numbing her. Visions flashed in front of her eyes. It was him, but not here. A wooden ceiling, a night sky, a brick wall, the hood of a beat-up truck. Maybe she'd dreamt of him in these places. It was possible. She hardly remembered her dreams.

His eyes came to rest on hers again, flashing slightly, almost orange. He squeezed them shut and she felt a sudden glimmer of deja vu, but... there was no pain. There was only pleasure, still. Was this the cure for a headache? She could take two of these every night, if so.

His hands planted on either side of her ribs and he rose up, eyes opening again as his thrusts became even harder and faster. He was large. It would hurt her if her entire body hadn't nearly turned to liquid by now.

"Yes," she breathed. His elbows locked on either side of her and she brought her hands up his shoulders, on either side of his face, holding him there as he kept pushing, pumping, until...

A long moan tore itself from her throat as her entire body stiffened, her insides fluttering around him, her heartbeat everywhere, pounding in her extremities. She felt warmth inside her and dimly heard his grunts and moans. She was a little too busy blacking out to appreciate his release as well. Her hands fell from his face, flopping back on the bed beside her.

She felt something pressing her and realized it was him, dead weight on top of her. She could complain. He was heavy and sweaty and... perfect. One hand weakly stroked his wet hair. He sighed against her breast.

He mumbled something that sounded like "missed you." It was silly because... she couldn't say why. She was too busy drifting out of consciousness.

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