The Private Life of Lois Lane
In a virtual Metropolis ...
"Mmm, Hmm." "I'm a little different," he persisted. "Sure." "I mean, I've had girlfriends. I've dated. But that thing, the intimacy
threshold, the "Once?" She obviously had been listening. "Only once? How ... I mean ... uh ... who was she?" Lois tried to deflect her train of thought, helped by natural curiosity. Clark flushed slightly. "My ... my cousin. I was 16, she was 18; I think we were both walking hormones. I hadn't developed all my powers at that point, so I wasn't yet worried about what I could and couldn't do. It was over ridiculously quickly anyway, I'm not sure whether it would even count." His words tumbled out, as though speed would take the sting of remembered adolescent embarrassment; neither of them had been too sure what they were doing nor had they been too sure how to behave afterwards. It had taken several years before they could meet at family gatherings without feeling awkward. "Let me guess; the hayloft?" teased Lois. She hid a grin when Clark flushed bright red. "Lo-is! Um. Yes. Well, I did live on a farm," defended Clark. He swallowed, "Is this going to be a problem for you, that I don't ... well, that my experience is more theoretical than yours?" he asked, unsure how her federal disasters would stack up against his inexperience. He was surprised by the reaction; Lois looked away, staring at the buildings around them, and he could feel her retreat emotionally. He touched her shoulder gently, trying to draw her attention. "Lois, if this is making you uncomfortable we don't have to talk about it now. I mean, I don't think it'll be a problem ... I know that you give me a confidence in all my ... my, uh, abilities that I'd never have alone. I think we'll have more of a problem stopping than anything else!" He tried to lighten the conversation with a self-deprecating comment about his passion for her. Again, the reaction was unexpected. Lois ducked away from his touch for a moment, then whirled around. Before he could register quite what was going on, Clark found Lois pressed up against him; her head was buried against his chest and she was shaking. He put his arms around her, first in reflex then in a gentle embrace. Absently he noticed that her jacket was sun-warmed and a small corner of his mind marvelled at the detail of this unreality. "Lois, what's the matter?" Worry shot through him; was she being affected by the VR equipment? He'd found it a little disorienting at first but he was used to it by now. Maybe it was affecting her differently. He heard a hiccuping sob. "Lois?" She lifted her head at the soft question; tears glinted in her eyes. "Oh, Clark ..." She tucked her face back against his chest, then started to speak. "My experience is entirely theoretical," she said, her words muffled by his jacket and spoken too quietly for anyone else to hear. Clark was confused but kept quiet, rubbing her back in a gesture of comfort and connection, hoping she'd continue. After a moment, she did. "My .. federal disasters ... were just that. Disasters. I've never ..." A longer pause, then a harsh sob. "I can't." Her voice was flat with pain. "You can't?" Clark frowned slightly, now completely confused. The fireworks he found in his arms when they kissed burnt so hot he was sometimes amazed he wasn't singed by them; and now she was saying she couldn't ... couldn't what? "Oh god. I've been trying to find a way to bring this up, and it's just not something you can drop into conversation ..." Lois' voice was little more than a whisper; she was still speaking to his jacket. "I can't. There's ... there's something wrong with me. I freeze up at the ... uh, the critical moment. It's ... like a no-go area." She was trembling harder now, and Clark tightened his embrace a little. "Shh, Lois. It's alright, we'll be alright," he tried to reassure her, "look, your apartment should be just around the corner here; let's go and talk there." Lois just nodded; Clark wondered this was the right thing to do. Maybe they should just continue the conversation now, not give her a chance to back out as they walked. He shook his head briefly; this was too public a place to talk about this, and he needed to the time to make sure he didn't say the wrong thing. He was usually better with actions than words when it came to Lois. He caught her hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze as they began to walk. It wasn't far; they were silent as they walked. Clark was thinking over what Lois had said, and Lois was almost blank, trying not to think about it at all. The whole subject hurt too much and she was too scared about the future. The apartment was as accurate in detail as everything else, even down to the multiplicity of locks, but they were soon inside. Lois stood, seemingly frozen, in the middle of the floor; unsure what to do, how to restart the conversation. Clark took her hand again, having had to release it to let her open the door, and tugged her gently towards the bedroom. Lois recoiled at the implication and Clark closed his eyes, berating himself for not explaining what he had in mind. Lois had never followed him blindly (well, not too blindly); what had made him think she might now? "Lois, I need to hold you whilst we talk about this and your sofas are not entirely comfortable. We're not going to do anything, I promise; just talk." Lois look doubtful for a moment, then nodded; she let him lead her to the bedroom and settle them. Clark slipped her jacket from her shoulders and let it drop on a chair; his jacket followed. Sitting on the bed he shifted across to the middle and leant back against the headboard, then held his hand out to Lois. Only a moment's hesitation as she looked at him, so close and so far away; then she took his hand and sat next to him. Clark slid his arm around her shoulders, holding her close enough that she could feel the beat of his heart. She rested her head on his shoulder, curling into him. Minutes passed, still in silence; the city outside was eerily quiet, contrasting with the familiarity of the room. Eventually Lois relaxed slightly, lulled by the steady rhythm of Clark's heartbeat and the solid comfort of his body against hers. She took a deep breath but still heard her voice crack as she finally spoke. "It's a medical condition; I've seen a doctor and had therapy - not that sort of therapy!" she'd sensed Clark's startled response to that and had suddenly realised what he thought she'd meant, "but ... but it needs the help of ... someone else to .. uh, improve matters. I've never known someone else I trusted enough to help me with it before. I've tried to ignore it, hope it'll go away ... even developed enough expertise in other things to distract. But it never goes away; and it hurts. God, it hurts." Clark inhaled slowly; now it was his turn to shudder at the pain - both physical and psychological. "We can deal with it," he paused then added, uncertainly, "if you want to?" Lois looked up at him and held his gaze. "I want to ... oh, Clark, you have no idea how much I want to." Clark hesitated for a second, then kissed her delicately. Feeling her immediate response, despite the painful conversation, he smiled against her mouth. "I have some idea, I think." Lois giggled involuntarily, surprised to be able to find humour in a situation she'd dreaded. She sighed with some relief; it wasn't over yet but they were on their way. She made the final confession. "You have no idea how much of a hypocrite I've felt, in some ways," she said. Clark raised a quizzical eyebrow. "Getting mad at you for your secrets, but always knowing that I somehow had to tell you about ... this. For all that I pray it'll disappear when I'm with you, I know it isn't going to. No matter what my response." "Lois, it's alright; it's hardly hypocrisy - it's not quite the same as disguising a part of myself from you." "No, but I should have had more appreciation for the difficulty you had in finding the right time to tell me." There was no point in trying to reply with words, so Clark simply kissed her; both in reply and to try to stop her getting worked up again. At least, to stop her getting worked up for that reason. The emotions that had run high in their words spilt over into their embrace; the kiss grew hotter and deeper. Lois let the frustrated desire, built up through the conversation, colour her actions as she covered his mouth with a rapid shower of kisses. She evaded for a moment his attempts to draw her deeper; then sank into his mouth, tongues duelling then surrendering in delight. Lois twisted to sit facing Clark then returned to the kiss; she let her hand wander from where it rested on his chest and traced the line of buttons then slipped her fingers between the layers of fabric. A swift flick of the wrist and the buttons, already loosened by Clark's repeated spinning out of the shirt, came open easily. His chest was gorgeous to the touch, solid and warm; Lois drew away from the kiss and began to explore with her mouth the muscles revealed by the open shirt. The lips are supposedly the most sensitive part of the body, after all ... A delicate nip of her teeth against his nipple and an open-mouthed wet kiss to soothe. Clark was already shaking under her touch, his hands tracing circles over her back; unable to stay still, needing to participate but unsure how much she would allow or cope with. He let her set the pace as she accelerated her caresses, working her way down his chest over his stomach; a quick nuzzle of his navel had him almost doubled up. When she reached the waistband of his trousers he'd had enough and lifted her up. A breathless kiss; then Lois protested. "I want to. I need to. Please." "You don't need to, Lois, I said we'd just talk ..." the remonstration was distinctly lacking in forcefulness, and Lois shook her head. "I need to for me. I need to ... to let this out somehow." Please listen, she thought silently. He heard, either the thought or the appeal in her words, and lay back against the headboard with one arm flung out across the bed; the other curled around her waist in a half-embrace. The weight was a welcome pressure and the unfocussed stroking of his thumb along the seam of her blouse was comforting. Carefully, very carefully, Lois unzipped and unbuttoned him; Clark lifted his hips when she tugged, dragging the trousers and boxers down over his legs. He was so sensitive from her touch that he would later swear that he had physically felt her wide-eyed appreciation of him. She looked back up at him as her fingers found him; there was a trace of fear still in her eyes and, for the first time, Clark cursed the fact that he was developed in proportion - in all proportions. He put his thumb to her lips; brushed it over them to gain her attention. "Can I do something for you?" he asked, his other hand sliding lower over her hip and to the short hem of her skirt. Lois' arousal rose, dimming the fear momentarily. "You can ... uh ... try," she said, clearly nervous despite the arousal. Clark smiled and shook his head, the look in his eyes like liquid heat in the half-light of the room. "I don't mean try *that*; there are ways and means ..." he let his voice trail off and deepen, trying to soothe the fear without dimming the arousal written all over her. He succeeded and Lois shifted, reaching with her free hand to unzip the skirt; Clark stopped her. "Let me," he whispered. His hand covered hers briefly, fingers tangling with hers, then shifted to the waistband of the skirt. Lois moaned softly at the smokey depth of his voice and the rasp of metal; then shuddered at the fleeting breeze on her legs as the skirt flew in an arc to land on the jackets. It didn't quite make it, falling just short. Neither cared; the shudder had Lois caressing Clark's erection almost involuntarily and Clark closing his eyes tightly, desparately trying to rein in the heat that radiated out from her touch. He was rigid, his erection seemingly harder than the yielding solidity of his muscled chest, and Lois felt a rush at the heat she held. Delicately she slid her fingers around him, feeling the skin stretched under her hand; tight around the tip, the dark head standing out against the pale skin of her fingers. Lois watched, fascinated by the contrast and the sensations coursing through her; he wasn't even touching her yet. All this, just from her exploration of him. Lois shuddered again, and Clark moaned as his meagre grip on control slipped further. The moan became a hiss and sigh of pleasure when he remembered to breathe; Lois trailed her fingers along the length of him, from base to tip, stroking the moisture pearled at the tip into the blood-taut flesh. Acting on instinct Clark's fingers trailed up Lois' thigh; slow movements as he gauged her trembling, waiting until he was certain the shaking wasn't fear. Her skin was hot silk, smooth and soft under his hand. The heat intensified as he found her centre, teasing the curls there and the nub underneath them. A snap of lace and a single firm stroke of his thumb across her had Lois shuddering harder still; she forced her attention back to the steel velvet in her hands. A fleeting thought turned to action and Clark suddenly felt her mouth surrounding him. Her lips opened over the tip, lowering onto him and letting him feel each last minute movement as she drew him in. He groaned her name, fingers flexing against her; the damp heat of her mouth enveloped him, her tongue flicking insistently against the taut erection. Blind instinct found him reciprocating, his mouth replacing his fingers on the bundle of nerve-endings; his tongue lapped at her, drawing out the nub. A kiss, tugging with gentle lips; Lois thought she screamed. A sudden rush of arousal flooded Clark's senses; her taste was intoxicating and his tenous grip on the situation narrowed further. Neither of them remembered what they were supposed to be doing, much less where they were. The world - real or virtual - existed only in their awareness of each other; the scent of each and both, the caress of mouth against skin and the writhing heat that bound them together. A few more touches and that awareness contracted to one thing only; the lightning that bound them together in a moment so acute that neither knew whether they were experiencing their own climax or the other's. Time ceased; eternity passed. Eventually their heartbeats slowed and separated; Lois found her head cradled in Clark's lap, and his in hers. She touched her fingers to his mouth. "Thank you." Clark drew a shuddering breath. "Thank you ..." He kissed her fingers with his words. "That was the first time I've made love, Lois. The first time ever. Nothing else counts; and nothing else is necessary." She smiled, a little crooked smile filled with tenderness and love; she wondered exactly what it was she'd done to deserve him. She couldn't remember doing anything that right in her life; except perhaps, maybe, a couple of minutes ago.
This is the first of an interlinked series of stories that will form one single story as they build ... watch out for Part #2 soon. Written: 31 July 1999 This was written as a response to Supermom's original "What-If" challenge on Zoomway's boards, to explore what might have happened if Clark was the one with experience, rather than Lois. To avoid taking it too far from canon I've taken the events of Virtually Destroyed and tweaked them a little ...I couldn't see Clark as particularly experienced pre-Lois anyway - it just didn't fit my view of the character. See index page for disclaimer and copyright acknowledgements. This story, however, is my copyright and is not to be distributed without my permission. |