by Menolly
Lois stretched, uncomfortable from the position she'd curled into when she'd thrown herself on the couch, both furious and upset - with herself and with Clark for always being so damned right. The argument had been brewing for some time, a professional disagreement that they - no, she, thought Lois - should never have allowed to enter their personal relationship. She'd never been that good at letting things go, at making the distinction between work and home. For too long it hadn't been necessary to make a distinction - in fact, it had been necessary not to, so that she could reach the goals she'd set for herself, goals that now seemed ... inadequate? Lois frowned at her subconscious choice of words. Too work-oriented, she amended.
She stretched again, her joints cracking in protest. How long had it been since she'd done any real exercise? Too long, she realised, particularly given that they had acquired that nautilus-type contraption that Clark was so pleased with. Lois shook her head in bemusement at the notion that he even needed exercise. She was fairly sure that his insistence that they buy it had more to do with her. She detested formal exercise and tolerated it only as a method of continuing to eat chocolate without needing to buy a new wardrobe. Her preferred form of exercise was a little more horizontal. The thought chased across her face, a slightly wicked smile in its wake, before she brought herself back to the present and walked through to the bedroom to change.
Having swapped her suit for a pair of loose shorts and an old muscle shirt of Clark's that had shrunk in the wash, she headed for the small room (more of a glorified cupboard, really) where they kept the machine. She turned on and turned up the stereo, looking for a driving rhythm that would let her mind go blank, then settled in, sitting and reaching for the swing arms. She tried to pull them back.
Lois cursed, not so much at the pain in her protesting muscles as at the fact that, yet again, she'd forgotten to check what weight was set.
"One of these days, someone's going to come in here and figure out that Superman uses this, because there's no way any human's going be lifting this weight any time," she muttered, getting up and reaching round the machine to try to move the pin the set the weights.
A soft chuckle had her head whipping round, and she glared when she saw Clark leaning in the doorway, sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his jacket dangling from his fingers. A broad grin creased his face. Lois assumed he was laughing at her, and her earlier temper flared again.
"You think it's funny?" she spat, "One of these days I'll get hurt and it'll be your fault!" She was well aware that she was overreacting but unable to stop the avalanche without bursting into tears of frustration and that was something she had no intention of doing.
Clark seemed to bite back a comment, the smile fading, and he sighed. The soft exhalation did what Lois alone hadn't managed - quenched her anger, leaving the ashes of her temper dying as she looked at him and took in the weary set of his eyes. The last few days of tension leading to the argument had left their mark on them both.
"I'm sorry." They spoke together, stopped, and laughed. The sound was a welcome relief, if somewhat strained.
"Here, let me get that," Clark offered, stepping into the room. Lois settled back on the machine as he leant past, his shirt sleeve brushing against her. This time, the arms - hers and those of the machine - moved as she pulled back. Lois settled into a slow rhythm, feeling the gentle tug on underused muscles, and let her eyes drift close as her mind went blank. Her anger may have been defused, but she still wasn't in a frame of mind to discuss the argument, so she tried to ignore Clark's presence, the soft sussuration of his breathing.
That was easier thought than done, and eventually Lois opened her eyes, wondering why he was still standing there, saying nothing. As she continued the slow pull back and relax forwards against the weights she looked at him, rapidly realising that his attention was somewhat focussed. She smiled with amusement as she watched his eyes glaze slightly as he in turn watched the well-worn jersey of her t-shirt stretch over her breasts each time she pulled her arms back.
Lois slowed her movement further, ignoring the increasing ache in ther arms, deliberately lingering at the full stretch as she teased and wondered how long it would be before Clark realised what she was doing. Not very long. He looked up at her, met her eyes, and she shivered as reaction and anticipation made the hair on the back of her neck rise.
For a long moment they just looked at each other, then Clark found his voice.
"You might want to consider letting go, or you won't be able to move tomorrow morning." Lois looked blankly at him, wondering what he was talking about. Her eyes widened as he moved in front of her and pushed back on the machine arms, taking the pressure from her arms as the weight crashed upwards.
Lois suddenly realised what Clark had meant and shook her head briefly, bemused by whatever part of her psyche thought he'd been referring to something less physical. She looked again at Clark, standing in front of her, holding the machine arms open for her to slip out, and smiled as an idea struck her ... a look of apprehension crossed Clark's face as he saw her smile.
She curled one hand around his belt and pulled him gently towards her until he stood immediately in front of her, legs apart, feet planted either side of the seat, his arms still holding the weights. The music stopped.
"Lois?"
Her smile widened as she unbuckled the belt and pulled it free, the leather whispering against the cotton. The button and zip slipped apart under her touch and she pushed his trousers open. For a moment she stopped, glancing up at Clark to check his reaction. His eyes were closed, and she watched him as she traced his hardening erection with the back of her fingers, through his briefs. Clark swallowed, his eyes still shut, and Lois took a quick breath at the play of light on his throat as the muscles worked.
All arguments had long since fled, chased to the back of her mind by her growing arousal and left to fester quietly for another day.
She slipped her fingers slowly under the elastic tucked along the crease the top of his thigh and gently stroked him, still watching his face. She bit her lower lip in concentration as she ran her fingers over the rigid flesh, hot under her touch.
Clark made an indistinct protest as she withdrew her hand, only to suck in a sharp breath as she pulled his trousers down to his knees, his briefs with them, and leant forward to touch her tongue to the translucent drop that bubbled from the tip of his freed erection. Clark found his voice.
"Lois ... careful, please ... honey ... if I let go of the weights you'll get hurt."
"So don't let go," she murmured indistinctly, kisses following her fingers down the length of him. She licked back up, following a vein that snaked an erratic blue line to the tip, and then sucked gently, savouring the taste of him. Clark murmured encouragement. A moment or two more, then Lois drew back. Clark slowly opened his eyes and looked at her, smiling at the lazy arousal and appreciation he found in hers.
"Lift your foot," she instructed. He complied without question or thought, first one then the other, as Lois drew his trousers down then curled her palms over his buttocks and drew him back to her. She kissed his navel quickly, her tongue darting in and out, then stood up in the small space between Clark and the machine. She tugged her top off, stretching her arms between his as he held the weights, then unbuttoned his shirt as she revelled in the look in his eyes. "Sit down." More an order than a suggestion, but Clark made no protest. He sat on the black leather, still warm from her body.
Once he'd settled, Lois slid back down to sit on his thighs, letting herself rub against him as she did so. She shifted forward a little until she nestled his erection hard against herself. Catching Clark's gaze she moistened her lips slightly, an unconscious reaction to the fire she saw there, then brushed his mouth in a kiss. Clark reacted, pressing forwards a little to deepen the liss and capture her against the seat back. Lois wriggled slightly, a calculated inflammation of his senses as her breasts rubbed against his chest and her pelvis stroked his erection.
Clark moaned, helpless against her, and Lois counted on the fact that he would be caught by the knowledge that if he released the weights she would be hurt. In this state he wasn't going to be able to move fast enough to get her out of the way if his grip slipped. She wanted ... needed ... to be in control. She rocked slowly, deliberately, against him; caressing herself against his skin as she watched his arousal build, feeling the warmth rising. She slipped a hand between them, curling it around his length and felt him jerk slightly at the contact. He was close, his breathing shortening in hot waves against her skin as he bent his head to watch her stroke him.
Lois placed her free hand on his chest, waited until he looked up and then - watching his face, judging her pace by the reactions she saw there - let her hand smooth over his chest and stomach, feeling the ripple of muscles under her fingers. She lifted slightly as she reached his hips and, as she stroked him, reached between her legs to push the shorts she still wore slightly to one side. Clark's eyes shut tight and she felt him tense still further as he realised what she was going to do, then felt him shudder as she guided him into her. She let out the breath she hadn't been aware she was holding as she stretched to accept him, lowering herself over him until she sat against him again.
Lois slid her arms around Clark and let her head rest on his shoulder as she stilled for a moment, the rush of pleasure she felt each time she took him into her washing through her. Clark turned his face a little and kissed her hair, then her ear, blowing softly as she clenched around huim at his touch. He whispered nonsense that somehow made perfect sense to her as Lois kissed his neck, small touches of kisses that trailed up to his mouth where she stopped his words with a kiss that deepened as she braced herself against the seat back and began to rock against him again, her hips and tongue following the same rhythm.
She set a blistering pace, suddenly frantic for the feel of him and the friction of their bodies, ignoring the slight tremor in his arms as he held the weights. The frisson of danger, the shimmer of skin against skin like liquid in the still air, and Clark's encouragements - at first murmurs but growing louder with the gasps and moans forced from her as she slammed against him - inflamed them both. Abruptly she tensed hard around him, a white heat spiralling through her as she shattered, Clark's name now a whisper in her mouth as all her energy gathered in the spiral. Caught in a conflagration of her own making she heard her name shouted, as though from a distance, and felt Clark's release shudder through the eye of the storm within her.
A little later, as reality crept back through the blanket of heat between them, Lois raised her head from Clark's shoulder, her eyes still a little unfocussed. She smiled at the rumpled aftermath of pleasure on his face. Clark opened his eyes as he felt her move.
"Welcome home" she said, and laughed as the smile on his face grew to laughter. That laughter faded as the tremors of each others amusement stole through them, fanning the arousal that still smouldered ...
Note: to all fitness fanatics - the machine I describe here works the opposite way to usual. There is at least one manufacturer who makes multi-gyms like this because there's one at my local gym ... it nearly took my head off when I released the arms too abruptly once!
Uploaded: 28 May 1997
Written: May 1997
See index page for disclaimer and copyright acknowledgements. This story, however, is my copyright and is not to be distributed without my permission.