Almost Lovers (Chapter Nineteen)

Banner by Summerstar882

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

Chapter 19

Lois turned up the heat, wishing she hadn’t changed to a slinky chemise. Clark certainly didn’t deserve it. Then again, she was…

“Not thinking about Clark,” she muttered, stalking into her bathroom. She’d started that notebook damning Clark and she’d finished the same way. But she had better things to think about. Like Lana and Lex. Right now, even Lana and Lex were preferable to thinking about Clark. That and festering boils and… birth control. 

She sighed and popped one, swallowing it dry. There. That was the last second she’d spend thinking about Clark tonight… unless he decided to show up. He was even late! As if she needed another reason to be thoroughly annoyed with… not thinking about Clark.

It was just really hard to focus on what she should right now. She wished she’d burned his stupid notebook. It gave her no useful information at all, unless she could count Clark’s history of defending everything Lana did. All that told her is that not telling Clark about her little investigation was definitely the right call. 

On the whole, it was distracting, confusing, and she wanted the hours she’d wasted on it back. The worst part was that she knew. She knew almost everything he laid out in Clark's messy scrawl, but she didn’t see it until now. The extent of it laid out before her really highlighted the intrusive, obnoxious, entitled… 

She grabbed up her robe and jerked it on, resolving, again, not to think about Clark. She stared at her board instead, thinking of Lex, remembering…

This wasn't just research to you. He did it. He did it to you, too.

He’d said that, wild-eyed and erratic, when she’d met him in the caves. He’d been calmer the next time she’d seen him. Maybe he’d stopped that crazy treatment of his in that time, the one she’d resolved to have no part of. She still felt that was the right call, considering Lex was… less than sane might be a generous assessment. But something told her to revisit those words. He did it to you, too. He'd been talking about Grady.

Clark didn’t have a high opinion of Grady, made obvious by his stupid notebook. But she didn’t think he knew him as well she… well, she felt she knew him. Then again, Clark didn’t seem to share her take on Lana as he felt he knew her better. And she supposed he did, but… 

She was going around in circles. None of this was telling her what she needed to know about Lana.

Lex aside, she still couldn’t let herself think Grady was trying to do her harm. She remembered their sessions and, overall, her gut still told her that Grady was a good egg the same way it told her Lana was… Well not a bad egg. She was still figuring that out. The most she could say for sure was that Lana was a damned sneaky egg.

And Lana worked for Grady. Did she somehow convince him to do what he did to Lex the same way she seemed to be trying to sway Doctor Carson toward committing him?

She sighed and stepped back, literally and figuratively. She didn’t want to start jumping to the wrong conclusions, like she had about her own identity. Before she knew it, she’d be drunkenly busting into the Clocktower with wild theories that Lana Lang and Kevin Grady were part of some kind of mind-wiping conspiracy with her and Lex at the center of it. 

She knew one thing for sure. Lana wanted Lex committed. Lex possibly should be committed. So why the hell couldn’t she drop this?

******************

“… and whatever the hell this is,” Victor finished brightly, examining an eight sided tube of sorts.

Clark had given him all the items stolen from Moxie’s as well as Lionel’s scribblings for safe keeping and future study. He’d looked like he might weep with joy at the time.

“Don’t look too closely at that,” Clark warned from across the room, though not taking a step closer – and not just because that safe was chock full of green rocks. He was keeping a cautious distance from all their “stolen goods” along with the veritable rainbow of kryptonite. Jones had confirmed that contact with the blue, in particular, could result in either prolonged or permanent loss of power. It made him wonder if that bracelet should be locked away, too. He shook it off for now and concentrated on tonight. “Jones said it translates to Mirror, so you never know how it works.” 

“Yeah. We’re gonna be talking about Jones,” Victor said, averting his eyes as he carefully put it away.

“I know.” He’d also have a little chat with Jor-El. “Just not tonight.” It felt like every part of him ached or stung and he was finding it increasingly hard to keep his eyes open.

“All closed,” Victor said, moving away from the safe. “We’re running out of space.”

Clark released a long sigh and moved to the couch. “Maybe when Happy Harbor’s finished up…”

“If ever,” Victor groaned, dropping next to him. “We’ve been too busy covering your sorry ass to work at it.”

“I know. And thank you. And sorry.” He took a deep, though slightly painful, breath. “You’ve all been rallying around me and, believe me, I appreciate it. I promised I’d make it up to all of you and I meant it.”

“This isn’t about…” Victor chuckled. “You know, I really want to give you a long lecture about not trying to handle everything by yourself, but since all the other times barely registered…”

“You know I couldn’t bring you guys in, with the police and the deep cover. But, for the record, I wanted you guys in on this once I realized how much bigger it was.”

“So what stopped you? We could have had this loot locked up weeks ago.”

“Jones really wanted to draw out and get rid of our alien guests first. And I didn’t want to upset the flow of things… until I felt I had no choice.” He closed his eyes. “Can we talk about this tomorrow?” His eyes snapped open. “Scratch that. The next day. It’s been a long night and I still have a damned lot to do tomorrow.”

He’d have to meet with Perry, for one thing. He’d called him tonight, knowing it had to be done. He doubted he’d still have a job if The Star got there first and Perry learned where he’d been. He’d thought he was in danger of being fired that second for waking Perry up “in the middle of the damned night, for God’s sake,” but Perry’s mood brightened considerably when Clark rattled off his teaser to go in the morning edition, hinting at big events at Moxie’s involving Superman, with an insider account to come tomorrow.

He just had to figure out what it would say, along with Cat.

He’d also have to talk to the police again -- as Superman, at least, to fully explain things. John had offered to do a little reprogramming in that direction, but Clark convinced him not to. Undoing the damage on the crowd at Moxie’s was one thing, but mind-whammying the police was a whole other story and definitely no way to go forward if he wanted Superman to continue having a working relationship with them. Besides that, they were confused enough without adding partial memory loss.

Maggie Sawyer’s version of events had Johnny “Stitches” Denetto showing up at her surveillance van, confessing to crimes as far back as cheating on homework and adolescent shoplifting. It was so distracting, she only left when she heard a loud boom that still seemed unexplained. Stitches was still at the precinct confessing, as far as Clark knew. He’d only got up to eighth grade by the time Clark left.

As for Clark Kent, he’d found Cat Grant knocked out and had been just about to call for an ambulance when he and Turpin were jumped by Steven Fisher, also known as Desaad. That was how John Jones told it, at least, playing the role of Clark Kent while Superman looked on. 

It was a real star turn, so annoyed at having missed all the action, but so very flattered that Superman had disguised himself as him. He must have said “golly” at least three times.

Turpin, aside from a grade two concussion, was alright, but he had nothing to add to the night. Then there was Cat Grant, who’d seen more than any of them, save Clark, even if she was really mixed up about what she saw. 

No one outside of Clark, Jones, and the League knew for sure about the averted Apokaliptian invasion and Jones thought it should stay that way. Clark had to agree. There was no need to rile up the public over something that didn’t happen.

But it did create something of a conundrum for the police. In the end, they could charge Bruno and pals with assault, conspiracy to commit murder, maybe even attempted murder -- of Superman, to be precise -- and money laundering. The police also sent photos of Dolores Murphy and Steven Fisher, aliases Granny Goodness and Desaad, around as missing accomplices. Superman let them, though he knew it would do no good. They’d never be found on this planet.

He had felt the need to intercede for Timothy Temple, also known as Tiny, for his efforts in lessening the damage done to Superman, arguing there may be hope for rehabilitation.

Needless to say, the police would not be including Clark Kent in any future investigations. But that didn’t matter so much. If anything good had come out of this, world-saving aside, they had a stronger relationship with Superman, believing they saved his life. That mattered more.

Clark grunted and shifted on the couch.

“You okay?” Victor asked.

“Oliver’s clothes are too damned tight, everything chafes and… everything really hurts. But I’ll be fine,” he grunted. “Get a little sunbathing in tomorrow… between everything else I have to do.”

Victor patted his shoulder, which also hurt, then stood. “Why don’t you get some sleep? Bart’s taken over Oliver’s room, but Diana had business in DC, so the guest room’s…” 

“No. It’s fine. I can’t sleep until I... I just have somewhere else to be.”

“Yeah. You’d better check in with her. I bet she’s been wondering where you’ve been, even with all she’s doing.”

Clark looked up at him, confused. She hadn’t been wondering where he’d been, considering she knew. But that wasn’t what was bothering him. “All she’s doing?”

Victor moved away – and a little quickly, Clark thought. “You know that girl. She’s a workaholic. Always chasing a story. So anyway, you’d better check in with her.”

“But…”

“And with your mother,” Victor said quickly. “You know what? I’ll give her a call right now and tell her you’re a little beat up, but basically…”

“No!”

Victor turned and smiled, holding up his phone. “You sure?”

Touché. He obviously wasn’t getting at whatever Victor was hiding, not with the threat of his mother finding out about this. “I’ll just go,” he said levelly.

Victor nodded. “You do that.” 

Clark left by the door rather than the window, shivering just a bit in the damp and rather cold air. It must be freezing if he could feel it, even weakened by green K exposure, he rarely felt the cold.

“Walking home?”

He whirled to find Jones behind him. “I thought flying might be a dumb move about now. I’m not at full strength,” he said wearily. He wasn’t exactly in the mood for Jones right now. But he took the glasses Jones was holding out before he walked on. “Thanks.”

Jones fell into step beside him. “I found them on the floor. It’s what gave me the idea. You okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” he grunted.

“I could take you somewhere with a sunrise if you’d like. I don’t deal well with the yellow sun, but you need…”

“Or with fire,” Clark cut in, stopping. “You might have clued me in on that.”

Jones looked down. “I didn’t think it was pertinent.”

“That you could be felled with a flaming torch? I think I needed to know that. Granny obviously knew.”

“I wasn’t ‘felled,’ I was just… a little frozen.”

“Well, it’s something I should have been prepared for. Maybe I’d have been able to think of some kind of plan if I wasn’t taken by surprise by you just… I mean…” Clark started again, because he really wanted to get this right. “You can’t handle everything alone,” he found himself saying, wondering if Victor was possessing him.

“I should,” Jones said, dead serious. “I am so deeply ashamed. If this Bobby Bigmouth person hadn’t alerted your friend, this entire operation…”

“Just stop it,” Clark cut in. “There’s no shame in getting help when you need it. And if Bobby hadn’t found The Flash, I would have called the team. This team is amazing. Okay? You have no idea what they can do. Together, they can do all I can and so much more. You should meet them.” He peered at Jones. “Why didn’t you?”

Jones looked down. “It was bad enough that I had to be rescued.”

Clark groaned and walked on. “Remind me to stop thinking my elders know better.” He could hear Jones behind him. “You, Jor-El… The both of you have this idea that we should be held separate from the humans, but how does that work?” He stopped and turned to Jones. “We’re the last of our races, John. If we don’t learn to be part of this world, then… we’re alone.”

Jones was silent for a moment. “Interesting thought.” He sighed. “It’s been an interesting night all around.”

Clark supposed that was the best he could get for now. “Interesting performance as me.”

“Thank you.”

“It wasn’t a compliment. I never say ‘golly’ or ‘gee,’ just so you know.”

Jones smiled. “You sure? Because you just did.”

“Well, I was quoting...”

“Still, it seems very you.”

“Very funny.”

***************

It was very late now. So late, she supposed he wasn’t coming. 

Lois blew out the candles and stuffed her feet into her slippers. She supposed a catastrophe had hit… not that he’d bothered to call or clue her in even a little. She’d kind of assumed he would. She didn’t even know if he was okay. Even that made her more angry than worried, so she supposed he was okay. Somehow, she felt she’d know if…

Lois sighed and turned her board to face the wall, though she shouldn’t even bother. Not like Clark was going to see it, since he wasn’t going to show. But it was all too confusing to look at. She kept going in the wrong direction, right back to Lex and Grady, which had nothing to do with now. 

He did it to you, too. But it wasn’t like that with her. He treated her, the same way he treated his other patients. Maybe his methods were unorthodox. Maybe her choice to use them was a mistake. But it couldn’t have been like that. It just couldn’t.

But that chemical Clark found on her T-shirt… She pushed it away. It wasn’t connected, whatever Clark thought. Besides, considering Clark wasn’t showing up and hadn’t even called, she felt perfectly free to continue being angry with him and refusing to live in a world where he was right. 

She was just contemplating cracking open the bottle of chardonnay she’d put out solo when there was a knock at her door. She dropped the bottle back into the water, which had once been ice.

It was him. She knew it. It was also past three in the morning.

“You should have just called, Clark,” she muttered, knowing he could hear her as she took her sweet time moving to the door. “I’m going to bed in the next three seconds, so whatever you have to say, say it in three words or less, then I’m…” Her words died a quick death as she opened the door, as did her anger. “Clark…”

“Sorry I’m late.” He smiled… or tried to. He mostly looked like he was wincing. 

She pulled him in. “What happened to you?”

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” he said hoarsely. 

“Well, it looks terrible,” she breathed, touching just under his eye, which was swollen shut. 

“That’s just because I’m wearing Ollie’s clothes. Not the best look for me.” He fell against her slightly. “Sorry. I know you’re tired. I probably shouldn’t have…”

“Clark, what happened to you?” She closed the door.

“They just… they had a whole lot of krpyptonite. You know? Like this whole rainbow. Plus all the stuff from Lionel and the mother box and boom tube really messed with me. I couldn’t even think straight with the…”

“I’m not understanding much of that. Do you have a concussion?” She ran her hands over his head. “Can you get a concussion?”

“I don’t know. The point is, it’s over,” he mumbled. “It was a really bad vacation. I just thought you should know before I go home and…”

“No. You’re not going anywhere.” She pulled him toward her bedroom. “Come on.”

He shuffled after her. “Wow, you’re kind of pushy on this third date thing.”

“Yeah. I know.” She pushed him to the bed, sighing. “Going to wait till you pass out, then have my wicked way with you.” She pushed him down and pulled off his shoes.

“I’m not gonna pass out,” she heard him mumble… just before he started snoring.

She straightened and stared at him, all swollen and bloody. She reminded herself that she was not done being mad. But she might just take a little break from it. 

She pushed at his legs, then the dead weight that was the rest of him, with all of her strength until he finally rolled over onto his side, mumbling and snoring. She moved to the other side of the bed and pulled the covers from under him until she could get them over him.

She leaned over him, then, inspecting his many scrapes and bruises as she tried to get her breath back.

“Worst third date ever,” she whispered, dropping a kiss on his head.

******************

It was bright. That was the first thing he registered. He could feel it even through his eyelids… also, he was naked. His eyes snapped open. 

Well, not naked, but nearly.

He leaned up on his elbows, last night coming back to him. He remembered Lois pushing him on the bed, but nothing else. Did they…

No. He still had underwear on. He saw the covers rolled at his feet, then looked around the room. The shades were up and the curtains pulled back. Even more sunlight was streaming in from the living room. 

And she was in there. He could hear her shuffling around, dishes clinking. He sat up, then stood with a groan, still sore in his ribs and on the surface of his skin, vaguely realizing she must have taken care of him, must have let him sleep here. Whatever she was doing, he should help or…

“Hey!” She appeared in the doorway in a fluffy, blue robe, a large bowl in one hand, the other hand snapping and gesturing to the bed. “You’re not getting out of bed until I say so.”

He sat back down quickly. “Yes… ma’am?”

“That’s more like it.” She chuckled and moved in. “The least you can do is be obedient after what I pulled off… literally.” She placed her bowl on the nightstand and her hands on her hips. “It was like five workouts, getting you out of your clothes. You are the deadest of weights when you’re unconscious. Do you know that? Lay back.”

“Guess I do now.” He couldn’t help smiling as he laid down. “So… you remembered.”

She wrung out a washcloth and perched on the bed. “Huh?”

He gestured to the windows.

“Oh, yeah. Well, you’re lucky I face east. You’d probably still be bleeding. Close your eyes.” 

He did, then felt the warm cloth on his forehead.

“Yup. Just dried blood now. While we’re on that subject, what exactly led up to this bruised, battered, bloody man I see before me?”

“I got beat up by an old lady.” An involuntary laugh escaped him. “I really wish I was kidding. I mean, Mannheim helped, but she did most of it.”

“She who?”

“Granny Goodness.”

“That’s a hell of a name. Isn’t that the lady that runs the home for runaways and…”

“Not anymore. She kind of got sucked into a portal and sent to another planet.”

“Yeah. You’re gonna have to go back a bit.”

He opened his eyes. “Well, remember new year’s eve when…”

“Honestly, Clark. Close your eyes and lay back. Your face is still a mess. I can hardly see the blood through all the dirt.”

He closed his eyes with a long sigh. “I didn’t even look in the mirror. That bad?”

“You should probably get a shower. But not till I’m done with you. Keep talking.”

He took a deep breath, starting with the police and his first meeting with them, all the things he couldn’t tell her before. It felt good, reminded him of the old days, when they ended each day discussing and dissecting everything that happened, trying to figure out what happened next. All the while, feeling her hands on his face, his neck, prodding and wiping. He was surprised at how little she had to say, just a question here and there, a laugh sometimes. 

When she finally let him open his eyes, he could see the water was dark and cloudy. “All that from me?”

She dropped the rag in and picked it up. “Let’s not even think about your hair. Covered in plaster. Anyway, don’t move.” She picked up the bowl and moved into her bathroom. “Keep talking,” he heard her call out over the running water.

“Well, that’s kind of it,” he said loudly. “I mean, I’m definitely going to have to find Bobby Bigmouth and give him a meal… or ten.”

She came back in, scoffing. “Hasn’t he taken enough lunches?”

“Well, he’s the one who tracked down The Flash. Apparently, they bonded over burritos one day.”

“A match made in heaven.” She put the bowl down and tossed in a fresh cloth.

“He told him something was going down at Moxie’s and Bart alerted the others before coming in and sweeping almost all the green K from the room.”

“Swiftly and silently?”

Clark laughed. “What do you think?”

“Day saved, huh?” She chuckled, wringing out the cloth, then slowly swiped at his collarbones. “Kind of an understatement. World saved.”

He thought of telling her the skin under his clothes hadn’t gotten very dirty, but stopped himself. He really didn’t want her to stop. “I’m just glad it’s over,” he whispered. “I like my lives down to a manageable two.”

“Well, still… You could have called. Not that I don’t just love battered men knocking on my door at three in the…”

“I’m so sorry. I guess. I was just so caught up in every... mmmph!” He grunted as the wash cloth moved over his ribs.

“Hurts?”

“Everyone seemed to go for the ribs," he moaned, hating his whiny tone. "Granny even stepped on me." He cleared his throat. "But I am sorry for just showing up like that. Not much of a third date.”

“Third date, huh?” She smiled widely. He was so distracted by that, he didn’t see where that washcloth was going. He gasped, gripping the sheets, as he felt it under the waistband of his boxers. “Lois!”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Her smiled widened. “Does that hurt, too?”

He huffed out a laugh. “Uh… the… I mean…”

She laughed, moving the cloth up his chest. “I shouldn’t push. You had a rough night.” Her other hand brushed over his chest, still purple in spots. “Does it still hurt?”

He nodded stupidly, letting out a breath as she leaned over him, brushing her lips over the bruises. 

“How’s that?” she whispered.

“It’s… getting better.”

She hummed lightly against his skin, trailing her lips upward. “Where else does it hurt?”

He really wanted to say everywhere. “You know, we should take a minute and…” He trailed off as she brushed her lips over his adam’s apple, thinking that, really, this was the third date. Might not be ideal or include a fancy dinner and all, but were those things really necessary? Who was to say this wasn’t the perfect…

“Screw it,” he growled, taking her face in his hands and dragging her lips up to his, pulling her over him, straining up to meet her, feel her skin on his.

She moaned into his mouth and he heard the washcloth hit the floor with a wet plop before she gripped his shoulders, pulling. He took the hint, sliding his hands down her back and rolling them over before he lifted his head. “Are you su…”

“I’m positive. Now get to…”

“I mean, I should shower first and…”

“No, you shouldn’t!” She gripped him by the hair and pulled him down to meet her lips, which he was perfectly fine with, except…

“I’m surprised you’re not mad,” he said into her mouth.

“I’m surprised you’re still talking,” she countered, hands moving between their bodies until he felt the robe parting to something warm and soft and… Had she been naked underneath it the whole time? 

He leaned back, breathing heavily at the thought. Not naked, but it was almost as good. Red, tight, slinky, silky…

She let out a breath of laughter. “As you can see, I got all dressed up for you last night.”

“I wouldn’t have wasted time talking to Victor if I knew that.”

“Should’ve sent you a picture to hurry things along. ” She laughed. “Of course, you weren’t in the best shape last night.” Her hand reached up, fingers brushing just under his eye. “I’m glad it wasn’t worse,” she said, though her voice sounded rather tight.

He wondered if she’d been worried. He knew she’d been waiting. He’d try his damnedest never to keep her waiting again. He’d already wasted so much time. He caught her hand, squeezed it. “Lois, about the notebook…”

“Clark, if you start on that right now, I…”

“I just want to tell you it’s fine if you never read it. I even understand. I just… you should know that, before, I did lots of stupid things, I never told you how I feel and I… I don’t want to waste time anymore with…”

“Clark, I read it,” she cut in softly.

His eyes widened. “You read it?”

She nodded, leaning up to press her lips to his jaw. 

“And you’re not…”

“Clark, I seriously don’t care what happened in the past,” she sighed. “Now would you shut up and rip my clothes off?”

He let out a nervous laugh. “Well, rip…”

“Yes. Rip,” she said, eyes hard on his. “This thing is tight and uncomfortable and… I hate it.”

Clark decided he hated it, too, just loathed it, never wanted to see it again. He wanted to see her bare and bathed in sunlight every chance he… “Uh. The blinds…”

“I don’t care,” she breathed, laying back. 

He grinned, gripping at her neckline.

“Wait! I do care!” She nodded towards the window. “The perv across the street has a telescope.”

Clark’s eyes narrowed. “Which apartment?”

“Clark, just close them,” she groaned. “Hurry!”

The sun must have done the job by now. He had the blinds down in under three seconds. It was quite the accomplishment -- except for the one he pretty much ripped right off the window. “Sorry. I’ll fix that when I…”

“Don’t care.”

“Good enough.” He quickly pulled the curtains closed before turning to her, hoping she wasn’t naked, as counterproductive as that seemed. He really wanted to rip that nightie to shreds. But she was still waiting for him, all tousled hair and heavy breaths. He sighed. “You are so…”

“Damn it, Clark. Shut up and…”

“Yeah. Got it.” Not another word. Why talk when he could kiss? Run his lips over every bit of skin he exposed as her nightie tore away like tissue. He kissed his way down her stomach, noting that he’d rather listen to her, anyway, as her breaths turned to gasps and her gasps to moans and…

“God, yes! You bastard!”

Huh? He stilled, lifting his head from between her legs.

“Don’t stop now!”

He shrugged it off and pressed his lips to her navel. It had been a while. He supposed he might say some crazy things, too, if their positions were reversed. Right now, he was glad they weren’t. He parted her thighs wider, pressed a wet kiss to her inner thigh as her hips rose up under his hands. He wanted to hear her moan and gasp and…. curse some more, apparently.

That was okay, too. It only spurred him on. There was time to take it slow… later. He gripped her thighs, holding her still, licking in tight circles at her clit as she let loose a string of words that would make a longshoreman blush.

It had been so long. The last time he’d been in this position, they’d been in his loft, on his desk, amid piles of her books that her flailing arms knocked to the floor. And she’d pushed him away before he could feel her tighten around his fingers.

Not this time. He slid two fingers inside her, where she was warm and wet and soft, working at her faster. His own erection was painful by now, pressed between his body and the bed. But there was time for that, time to slide inside her and feel all that wet warmth around his c*ck. But not before he got her there. 

It only took a minute, maybe less, before her head was thrashing on the pillow, her hips were squirming under his hands, her hands fisted in his hair so hard it was almost painful.

He was still weak, almost depleted as he placed one more soft kiss on her inner thigh and dragged himself up her body. He’d need more sunlight. He wondered what it would be like to make love to her that way, somewhere remote and sun drenched and isolated. 

But there was time for that later. Not now. Definitely not now. It was hard enough, waiting for her eyes to open, waiting for her to give him the laziest of smiles.

“Lois…”

“Yes,” she said, sort of sighed, closing her eyes again. “Please stop asking.”

“I didn’t…”

“You were about to ask permission or if I’m sure or say any number of earnest, Clarky things, so...” She pushed at his shoulders, rolled them over, settling herself over him. “Just to be clear, you have my permission to take these off,” she slid down his body, pulling at his boxers, “then it’s perfectly fine if you come inside me, once that happens, you’re allowed to move, then move more and, gosh darn it, just keep moving. Then, after a reasonable amount of movement, hopefully mutually satisfying…”

He growled and rolled them over again, swallowing her laugh as he covered her mouth with his, sliding his tongue inside and running his hands down her sides, taking a little detour at her breasts before gripping her thighs. “Tease,” he huffed.

“You’re one to talk, you…” She broke off, sucking in a breath as he entered her.

He closed his eyes at the feel of it, letting out an involuntary moan as his head dropped to her shoulder. Had it only been over a month? It felt like years, like he’d nearly forgotten how right she felt under him, around him. 

He felt her legs slide up his hips, urging him to move. He did, slowly, turning his head to whisper as he moved inside her, against her. “Missed you,” he breathed, catching her earlobe between his lips, “so much.”

Her only answer was a soft whimper as her legs slid higher, wrapped around his torso, squeezing hard, pulling him in deeper. He had no problem with that. He shifted, bracing his arms on the bed, meeting her eyes as he dipped inside her, then again, faster now.

He could feel her hands on him, sliding up his arms, over his shoulders, fingers digging in. She didn’t have to say what she wanted. He got the message. He shoved in harder, arms shaking as her mouth dropped open with a wordless gasp.

“Lois…” He growled low in his throat, struggling to stay upright, but it was nearly impossible. He collapsed to her chest, hips still moving, sliding his hands down under her body to drag her closer, if possible.

Something in the angle pulled his name from her lips on a breath and he could feel her tightening around him, which would have been a good thing, except for how it could cut this pitifully short. He stilled, trying to hold back his release, but she obviously wasn’t having that.

“Damn it, don’t f*cking stop!”

Harsh words, but his c*ck didn’t seem to have an issue with them as he could feel it getting even harder inside her, something he hadn’t thought possible. He lifted his head, eyes boring into hers as he knelt up, pulling her with him.

“Yes.” Her eyes met his, arms winding around his neck. “Please… ”

And he was still weak, almost drained by now, but damned if he wasn’t going to give her whatever the hell she wanted. He dragged his hands up her back, holding her there, thrusting upward for all he was worth.

His heart was hammering, pulse pounding all over his body, skin slick and sliding as he kept his hold on her. It was work. It was weakening. It was wonderful. 

He doubted it would last, but thankfully, he couldn’t have thrust more than three times before her eyes closed, her head fell back, back arching under his hands, nails digging into his scalp. She was strangely silent, but he felt her tight walls around him, clenching, gripping.

At that point, he couldn’t even be sure she was finished. It was too much. One more quick thrust and it was over.

It took a minute for him to come back to reality but, when he did, he was dead weight over her. She didn’t seem to mind as her hands were running over his back and he could feel her laughing softly. 

“You okay?”

He tried to say something, but all that came out was an unintelligible grunt. But he did manage to move himself off her, rolling onto his back.

He felt the bed dip as she sat up. “You still hurting?”

He opened his eyes to her leaning over him, reaching for her robe. “A little,” he grunted, watching with some regret as she pulled it on.

“Where?” she asked softly.

“Just my ribs. Their still a little tender from… Ow!” 

She punched him?

“I’m sorry. Does that hurt?” Then she did it again! “How about this?”

“What the…”

And again! “How about no… OW!” She finally stopped, cradling her hand and glaring at him. “Worth it,” she choked out.

CHAPTER TWENTY

It’s been so long since I’ve written a proper sex scene. I found myself just a little blushy and giggly writing this one. But it had to be done. I certainly made you guys wait long enough for the smutty bits.  In fact, I made them wait long enough. They haven’t had actual sex since after Met Vista ended and that was written in 2008! My God! This fic is long!

Thanks again to AV for her beta work.