SUGAR & SPICE (Part 2)

Clark sighed. "Drying out in the kitchen."

Lois snapped him a look that was half exasperated, half perplexed. "What?"

"You......uh, decided on a scientific experiment. You wanted to see what would happen if you tried to flush them down the toilet. I rescued them, cleaned them up," he added dryly. "But they got pretty wet."

Lois stared at him, dumbfounded for a moment. "You're making that up," she said finally.

Clark shrugged. "Nope."

Lois blinked and then responded to this revelation with an inarticulate mutter in the midst of which there were several more, undefined threats against the 'skuzzball', along with a detailed and highly implausible rendition of his bloodlines and family lineage. She vanished back into the closet as that aggrieved muttering continued, burying herself in its depths as she began to rummage. The air was suddenly filled with shoes flying in all directions. Clark snagged one high-heeled sandal out of mid air before it could hit him square in the face. He sighed heavily.

"Lois - "

She emerged with a pair of black suede boots and glared at him. "Are you ready to go? Or are you going to let yourself out? Either way, make up your mind quick, because I'm out of here, buster! With you or not!"

Clark raised a slow brow at her and then looked at the shoe in his hand. He moved for the closet as Lois dropped the boots to a nearby chair and hauled on her coat. Clark paused in the doorway of the closet, looking nonplused for a moment. Then, with a shrug, he gave up on looking for order among chaos and tossed the shoe negligently into the untidy heap in the bottom of the closet where its fellows resided, before turning back to Lois.

In her fury and impatience she'd gotten herself entangled in the left sleeve of her coat and was currently fighting it viciously, struggling like a stoat in a gin-trap. Clark sighed and reached out automatically to help her, earning himself a sharp slap on the wrist for his trouble as she batted his hand away, glaring up at him.

He sighed again. "Don't you think, maybe, you should calm down first?" he suggested. He decided against mentioning that it might also be a good idea to get dressed, since that would only encourage her. "You'll just end up running around half the night and be no better off by morning. Leave it till then. We can get hold of Bobby; see what he knows. Anyway, Superman's bound to find him before anyone else does. He - they - could be anywhere in the city, Lois."

Lois paused, knowing, even through her anger, that he was making sense. Unfortunately, without the prop of righteous rage to bolster and distract her or a firm plan for working it out of her system - i.e. working *over* the skuzzball - she was left with only one thing to focus on.

"Superman......" she said, seeming to crumple inward with the mention of the superhero. Blank eyed, and with another of those mercurial swings of mood, she gave up all thought of leaving, a low moan trickling from her lips. "What must he think?!"

Clark looked at her for a moment and then threw caution to the winds as he stepped around her and reached out to ease her coat from her shoulders. This time, she didn't protest. Or hit him. Instead, she sniffed a little and then swiped a hand against her nose.

This was not a good sign.

"Come on, Lois," Clark said gently as he hung the coat back neatly in its closet and lead her, unresisting, for the bed. He sat her down and settled himself beside her, taking hold of her hands in his as he said, earnestly, "I'm sure he understands. You weren't yourself. There's something in those Space Rats that affects the mind. I'm sure of it."

"There is?" The reporter in his partner came out of hiding, brushing aside other considerations as she gleaned the hint of a story somewhere in the middle of this mess.

Clark nodded. "What's the last thing you remember?" he asked, attempting to distract her now as he shifted sideways on the bed so that he could study her more closely. "Clearly remember?"

Lois thought about it. "I think......it was when we were in the toy store. I picked up......" Her eyes brightened as she looked suddenly excited. "You know, I think you're right! I picked up one of those dumb Rats and......then this completely *rabid* woman tried to grab it from me and, well I wasn't going to put up with *that*, even if she did have a seven year old kid that was going just *hyper* over the thing and Christmas morning *would* have been kinda miserable if he didn't open the right parcel, I mean you know what kids are like, even if they do just play with the box the darned toy came in, it has to be the *right* box or - -- "

"Uh, Lois - ?" Clark interrupted as he saw this tangent galloping into the distance with a thunder of hooves, like a steer in a stampede.

Lois gave him a surprised look and then, "Oh! The Rats. Right." She frowned a little to gather her thoughts and went on, "I got sprayed in the face with that stupid gun it was holding. The Rat, I mean, not the woman......or maybe the woman happened after the Rat......I dunno, it's all jumbled up in my head. After that......" She looked a little distressed again. "It's all a blur. More or less. I remember......hopscotch?" she murmured glumly, giving him a small dismayed look as she remembered his earlier words. She let herself flop backwards onto the bed proper and moaned loudly as she stared at the ceiling.

"Right!" Clark said, keen to keep her on track and not let her slip back into maudlin self-examination again. He resisted the urge that made him want to reach out and pat a hand consolingly against one cotton-clad shoulder, knowing that the best way to keep her on the pace wasn't to offer sympathy, but to remain strictly downbeat and professional. Distance.

"It was more or less the same for me. Last thing I remember was you spraying Jimmy and me in the face with that Rat. You know it even affected Superman for a time."

"It did?" Lois shifted her gaze to him, looking inordinately pleased by that. She sat up.

Seeing the faint relief in her eyes, Clark nodded. He hadn't intended to reveal to anyone that Superman was as vulnerable as anyone else to the effects of the Rat spray, but now he decided to lay it on just a little thick, responding to the hope and wounded pride in her face. She needed the sop to her self-esteem.

"Sure! He was the biggest kid of all! So, you see......he really does understand it wasn't your fault. It's just lucky he seems to have gotten over it sooner than the rest of us. Having a greedy, childish superhero flying around Metropolis doesn't bear thinking about. It was bad enough last time with......that clone," he finished after a small pause. It was still rarely advisable to use Lex Luthor's name in front of his partner unless there was the inclusion of several expletives tacked on.

Not that she was listening. "Hmmmmm," she agreed absently. "I should have realized. Cos, that Pheromone spray of Miranda's affected him too, you know." A small, distant smile grew on her lips with the words and her expression turned dreamy.

Clark studied her intently, knowing what she was remembering. A scowl puckered his brow suddenly as he watched that all too familiar, all too irritating, look of hero-worship glowing on his partner's face, like a benediction.

"Lois?" he jogged her sharply. Perhaps a touch more sharply than he'd meant.

"Huh?" Lois started and glanced at him, frowning now. "What?" she said, a touch belligerent at being jerked so rudely from her fantasy.

Clark made to speak and then paused. He looked away instead and down at the hands folded between his knees. "Nothing," he said heavily, feeling a sudden, weary depression sink in on him as he studied his entwined fingers disconsolately.

There was, he thought, an almost perfect irony about the entire situation. He had just spent an evening feeling closer to Lois than he could ever remember being before - and she'd been all of five years old. She'd needed him. To comfort her. Protect her. More than she'd ever had before. She'd wanted what he'd always longed for her to ask of him, what he'd longed to give her......and none of it had been real.

And now that she'd recovered her sense of identity? Returned to normal? She was drawing away from him again. Retreating back to her fantasy hero, who was about as real as her own distorted persona had been. Who could never provide her with any of the things she truly wanted. And who was the only one in the universe she wished would.

Okay, so maybe 'retreating' was unfair. Since only *he'd* ever been truly there for her in the first place.

Was that faintly mocking cosmic laughter growing louder?

He must, he thought heavily, continuing that downward spiral into maudlin self-pity, be the only person in the entire history of creation to have invented his own rival in the quest for affection from the woman of his dreams. *Other* guys were happy enough beating off the local office Lothario or charming old flame. But, no......not Clark Kent. Not him. *He* had to go one better. Nobody had ever been *that* dumb. Ever.

Well......there'd been Cyrano de Bergerac of course, he supposed, but at least *he'd* had something - someone - tangible to fight against and, anyway, the parallel didn't really hold up to --

"Clark?"

It was his turn to start violently as he felt Lois' hand come to rest lightly against his knee. She was watching him with that familiar look in her eyes - concern and an invitation to confide - and he realized that the dejected run of his thoughts had shown on his face. Clark gave not the slightest hint of the sharp jolt of electric heat that coursed through him from where her soft touch lay warm against his knee, but he shifted a little, drawing away from her while trying to make it look like he wasn't.

He shook his head. "Nothing," he repeated. "It's just been......a rough day." He offered her a pallid smile.

Her eyes showed sympathy now, turning contrite. "You were sprayed too. Clark, I'm sorry, I didn't think." She patted him gently and began to rise. "I should have more painkillers in the bathroom cabinet. Is your head hurting? I'll just -- "

"No, Lois, it's okay. I'm fine. Really." He looked up at her wanly, reaching up to grasp her arm lightly and tug her back to sit as he rose to his feet instead.

"I guess I'm just a little more tired than I thought I was. Look, I really only stuck around to make sure you were okay. You seem," he glanced around the room and the minefield of discarded footwear scattered around the bed and then returned to her puzzled face, "pretty much back to your old self. I guess I should go. It's late - and we'll be busy later. You need to rest. You should go back to bed. Get some sleep. I can let myself out."

"But - "

"No, really." He backed up for the door. "I really am tired. I - I'd best just go. Go back to bed, Lois." He hesitated. Then, "I'm......glad you're okay."

Lois looked perplexed by his seeming eagerness to leave, but she nodded and gave him a small shrug of her shoulders. "Well......I guess I'll see you in the morning? Later *this* morning," she amended, with a rueful glance at the clock beside her. It emerged as more of an uncertain question than she'd intended it to be, a testament to the sudden oddity of his mood.

"Yeah. If you want to go get breakfast before we head in, just give me a call. Or......I'll......see you at the Planet. Yeah?"

"Sure. Okay."

Clark nodded and gave her a quick smile that simply stretched the skin of his face taut before it faded. He turned for the door and almost made it before Lois spoke up softly from behind him.

"Hey, partner......"

He turned back, looking slightly anxious. She smiled shyly. "Thanks. For using my sofa? For taking care of me, I mean," she added as he frowned. "Looking out for me."

A beat of silence passed between them.

"I like looking out for you, Lois," he said solemnly at last and then, seeming to regret having voiced the thought, turned cool and remote again as he waved an absent hand towards the lounge. "I'll......just get my things and get out of your way."

Lois sat for a moment on the bed's edge as he vanished into the dimly lit lounge and then, with a frown, got to her feet to follow, somewhat unsteadily still.

"When did he leave?" she asked, as she leaned against the frame of the bedroom door and watched him button up his cuffs and the open neck of his shirt.

"Huh?" He glanced at her as he searched for his tie. He found it under one of the cushions. "Who?"

"Superman. Was there some emergency? Is that why he left? Did he ask you to stay here? Did he go get you? Here, give me that," she added as he started to fold up the blanket he'd taken from her closet.

"No, it's okay, I can - "

"No, really, please, you don't have to - "

"Really, Lois, it'll just take a moment and -- "

They stopped, both realizing in the same moment that they had somehow gotten into a gentle tug of war with the blanket between them. Clark gave her a sheepish look and let go. Lois folded the blanket over one arm, smoothing at its soft folds as she ducked her head to watch the motions of her hands against its warmth.

"There wasn't any emergency," she said bleakly after a moment as he stood watching her, recognizing something in her sudden stillness - a deep despair - that made his heart ache all at once. "Was there?"

She glanced up at him, her eyes dark and wounded in the dim light. "He just left, didn't he? He left and asked you to look out for me instead. He just didn't want to be here. With me."

Clark couldn't answer, had no answer, and Lois was watching her hands make absent patterns on the blanket intently now, her voice thick with suppressed tears. "What's *wrong* with me, Clark?" she blurted. "Why can't he love me the way I love him? Why can't he see what he means to me? I know if he did, he'd understand, he'd *know* - "

Afterwards, Clark could never say just exactly why her words provoked him as they did. Why then? She was just being Lois after all. Mooning over her elusive superhero; confiding in her best friend; spilling out all of her hurt and insecurities against a warm shoulder he'd dutifully provided time and again. There was nothing new in that. Nothing to make him furious with her all at once.

And yet he was. Suddenly, he was furious and hurt and wounded as badly as she was.

He couldn't even fall back on the accusation that she was using him. He was the one who'd stepped into her personal life, unasked and, until recently, unwanted. He was the one who'd forced his way past the barbed wire fences and 'keep out' signs she made no secret of erecting against him. My God, the woman had warned him off practically the very first moment they'd met. What more had he needed? A gilt-edged rejection notice? Yet, he was the one who'd stepped over the line she'd carefully drawn in the sand between them and offered himself up as a sacrificial sounding board.

And, he was the one who'd let Superman play fast and loose with his partner's affections. Who'd used the superhero as a convenient proxy whenever his own weakness overcame him and he found himself unable to stay away; needy for the unconditional love she gave him when he donned the red and blue Suit. The only way, it seemed, to obtain what he desired most. And who left her bereft for days and weeks after, as guilt drove him from her......until he succumbed to her lure again. Like an addict desperately craving and resisting the source of his addiction in one and the same moment.

None of it was Lois' fault. He was the one who'd gotten himself into this mess.

So, *why* was he so angry with her? And why now?

Perhaps it was because he had never felt closer to her, despite the circumstances, than he had sharing this evening with her. Maybe it was simply that he was tired and fraught and the strain of the day's events were beginning to stretch nerves already shredded and fatigued. Or maybe he'd just reached the limits of that unquenchable resistance and was all out of patience.

Maybe, he'd never know.

The reality of it was that, for whatever reason, her words sent a pulse of dark anger blooming in his chest, tightening its way around his heart and pushing him to extremes he'd never have considered only hours before.

He grabbed for his jacket, thrown over the back of the sofa. "Maybe he just didn't want to stick around babysitting, Lois," he snapped, hearing the cruelty in the words and yet, somehow, unable to pull them back. Worse, he knew he didn't want to. Something black and stinking and corrupt was tearing itself loose in his soul, scrabbling free of his heart, and it wasn't going to let him put it back in its cage now.

As though he was watching and listening from a distance, he saw himself wave an impatient, scathing hand at his partner as she stared back at him, startled into silence by the harshness of his response.

He turned his back on her as he stiff armed his way angrily into his jacket and stuffed the recovered tie deep into its pocket. "Maybe he had other things to do. Maybe he's even got a life. Did you ever consider that? Maybe spending all his time picking you up and dusting you down every time you get yourself in trouble isn't what he figured he'd be doing twenty four seven when he came to Metropolis!"

He heard her take a hard, shocked breath and then choke it off, but he didn't look at her, couldn't look at her, and, somehow, he couldn't back off either.

"Clark - "

He felt his shoulders clench, setting themselves tight against the plea in her voice. He twisted slightly as he caught her movement out of the corner of his eye, avoiding the touch of her hand as she reached out towards his sleeve, and saw her freeze, hand wavering uncertainly in mid air before she let it drop back reluctantly to her side.

Her bewilderment at his unexpected and inexplicable hostility, at the dark scorn in his words, and her attempts to understand, to reach out to him even then, when he'd lashed out at her so harshly, only infuriated him further. Couldn't she even understand when he was trying to hurt her; trying to wound her as deeply as she'd hurt him? Couldn't she see *why*, even then?

"Clark...... What's wrong with you?"

Clark threw her a quick, incautious glance and felt the anger in him waver as he met the confusion and hurt in her deep, brown eyes; stark on his amid the sudden pallor of her face. She was still disorientated by the events of the day, already vulnerable in her perceived abandonment, emotionally fragile. Her eyes were still a little hazed as the last, trace residue of the drug leeched through her blood, adding to her bewilderment, and he was guiltily aware that he was kicking his partner when she was already down and badly wounded......but he couldn't let it go. He couldn't. Not now. Somehow, he'd set himself - set them both - on a path from which there was no turning back and part of him, though damning him for it, ashamed and guilt-ridden, was relieved that he had.

He'd been angry with her - furious with her - like this before and he'd stepped aside; caged the beast; let his feelings for her rule him; told himself that he had no right to place himself in her path, no matter what he thought or wanted for himself. Or for her. Choosing a path for her was as much a violation as Luthor's sick, twisted perverting of her hopes and dreams.

So, he had stepped aside; let her go; told himself that her happiness was more than enough consolation for the shards of his own dreams laid desolate at his feet. Except that he'd known, even then, that it was a lie. Known that her happiness was never assured. Not with Luthor. And that giving her up to him was the biggest mistake of all.

But......even so......knowing all that as he did......he *had* stepped aside.

It had been the most painful decision of his life. And the most fatal. One which had almost resulted in him losing his own life and come close to delivering Lois into unimaginable depravity: a hell of Luthor's making which would have shaped her life in dark ways too terrible to contemplate. Clark could easily recall Luthor's words. His threats. As clearly as though he was still there, still curled, helpless and hurting, on the floor of the faintly glowing, humming cage, feeling the stark bite of pain snap at his lungs and claw at his belly, clenching his breath tight in his throat like a noose.

<I love Lois......I really do. But she's just a little too independent, don't you think? Well, I'll take care of that...

Clark remembered the terror that had flooded through him with those words. The sick knowledge that Lois was in more danger at that moment than she'd ever been; that there was nothing he could do to save her; that she didn't even know that the predator was closing in on her. That the trap was almost sprung and she was walking into that snare with her eyes closed......and blissfully happy as she did. He had been more afraid in that one moment than he had been considering, with sick defeat burning like acid in his mind, how close *he* was to dying at Luthor's hands.

He had imagined her smiling up at her dark captor, her soon to be abuser, dressed in white silk and satin and so fragile, so easy to break. So easy to destroy.

Even thinking about how near that future had come, how easily it might have been, had the power to chill him now. They had come so close......

Clark hadn't given in to his own wounds until after it was over. When he was safe at his parent's farmhouse, when Lois, her wedding night spent miserably in his arms, had finally succumbed to the draining sleep that had overtaken her. Worn out by storms of weeping and self-castigation and dark, pitiful hurt as he'd held her close in the wake of Luthor's death and the destruction of her dreams.

The betrayal of all her hopes.

His heart had broken for her as he had. For those shattered hopes which had never included him. She had been so hurt, so broken, he had sometimes feared she might never return from the brink of the abyss where Luthor had pushed her.

Later, desperate with fear for her, full of black-choking guilt for not stopping Luthor sooner, for letting his own pride and anger get in the way of protecting her - something he might well never forgive himself for - he had broken down and wept like a child in his Mom's arms. Taking the same, uneasy comfort that he had earlier given.

For months after Luthor's death he had been plagued by nightmares. Dark, violent dreams in which Luthor's words came to fruition.

He was back in the cage and Luthor brought his new bride of only a few months down into the cellar to view his pet captive. Luthor knew this torture was much harder to bear than death for the superhero and so kept him alive, caged and defeated, in constant pain yet never allowed to slip into oblivion. And, besides, the superhero made an ideal hostage to ensure his wife's docility.

Superman stared at Lois through the green glowing bars as she stood demurely beside her husband. A Lois who was outwardly everything she had always been......smart, intelligent, beautiful. But the spark that had lit her from within, that he had so adored, was gone and her eyes were dead and cold on his. Luthor wanted an obedient, submissive trophy wife, not a tough minded, career woman and had molded her that way from the outset. In whichever way got him results. There were bruises sometimes. But though he had a temper that was vicious as a polecat when provoked, Luthor rarely marked his most prized possession. There were other ways to tame his bride to his will. Others whom Lois loved who could be used as bargaining chips to secure her submission. Luthor, already well proven the master of manipulation, who knew psychological terrors more powerful than any physical wounds, had no limits to his cruelties and even the smallest of them could wound deeply. And swiftly break even the strongest, most defiant will.

And, on other nights......

Superman had died in that cage as Luthor had planned all along. And had roamed the empty city streets, viewing snapshots of life as it continued without him; an invisible wraith, a ghostly voyeur. He watched Lois through the years as Luthor systematically broke her will and spirit with threats and beatings and every sick, twisted cruelty at his command.

Dark nights when he had stood as unwilling witness to Luthor's consummation of his union with his new bride. Luthor's coupling had been brutal as he'd slaked his lust upon the pale, beautiful body spread naked beneath his own and Lois' eyes had been filled with pain and shame and a plea he had been unable to answer as her gaze had locked with his in the darkness. Unable to move, rooted in place, he could do nothing more than watch the dark dance of Luthor's lust progress to its conclusion.

There were others. Repeating endlessly in the night terrors of his room and all of them with one common thread: Lois, broken and debased by Luthor. Dreams which had brought Clark jolting out of sleep, drenched in sweat and trembling, more nights than he could count. Or cared to recall.

They had faded, those dreams. In time. But their memory was still raw and it was their dark, cancerous stain in the depths of his soul that stiffened his resolve now. He had let another man get in his way before and Lois had almost paid the price. He wasn't going to repeat that mistake.

No, he wasn't going to step aside again. Not this time.

And especially not for his alter ego. Who, more than most, had no right at all to get in his way.

"Clark! Clark, please! Don't go......not like this......"

That voice, trembling and thick with the promise of tears, jolted him back to the present. He'd somehow found his way to the door of her apartment, his hand clenched tight enough around the doorknob to whiten his knuckles. He ducked his head, staring blankly for a moment at the hand that had laid itself against his arm and stopped him in his tracks. He could feel the tremor in those long, delicate fingers pulse through his skin......and reach its way into his heart.

Reluctantly, Clark raised his head and looked into soft doe eyes that were glassy with tears. Betrayal. Pain. Bewilderment. She didn't deserve any of it. She had asked for his understanding, as she'd always had; reached out to him for comfort, that he'd always given......and instead he'd struck out at her from the depths of his own frustration; used her as a convenient whipping post for his own rage. And his own failings.

He shook his head, anger snuffing itself out abruptly, like a fading summer squall, in the face of what he found in those eyes. He couldn't hold on to rage assaulted by her tears. She reached too deep into his heart for that. All at once, he felt nothing more than weary and defeated......and desperately alone.

"Oh, Lois......" he said regretfully, taking hold of the hand resting against his sleeve and entwining her fingers tight with his own. His free hand lifted, cradling her cheek as his thumb brushed fitfully at the damp tracks of moisture on her skin. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I never meant to - "

<......to hurt you......

But he had. He had meant to. And succeeded.

He was almost disappointed to see her respond with a small, uncertain smile. He didn't deserve her forgiveness. He would have welcomed her anger; would have known he'd earned it.

But there was nothing but relief in her eyes as she looked back at him. And concern. Even now, concern. For him.

"Lois," he said again, shaking his head a little in a familiar amazement at what this woman standing by his side could do to him. What she would do for him. How easily she could forgive him; anything at all. He frowned.

"What I said......it wasn't true, Lois," he blurted, desperate now to retract the hurt he'd caused so selfishly. "Superman......he wanted to help. Stay. But he......he knew how upset you'd be when you woke up, how embarrassed......that's why he left. He just wanted to make it easy on you. I don't know why I said what I did. It was stupid......worse than stupid......it was - "

"Yes you do." Lois looked up at him evenly, with a soft light of determination in her eyes now that he took note of with dismay. "Clark, what is it?" she pushed. "This isn't like you. You're not that......that cruel." For a moment there was a renewed threat of tears tightening in her voice with that last, then she made a visible effort to maintain her composure. "What's wrong? Tell me," she insisted and Clark sighed; let her go.

He leaned back heavily against the door behind him, his weight pushing it to a close again. He heard the soft snick of the latch as it clicked over and then he closed his eyes briefly, shook his head.

"I dunno." He rolled his head to look at her again. "I just don't know, Lois. I'm just so......tired."

That last emerged on a low sigh and his partner put a tentative hand on his arm again, looking more concerned than ever now. Clark noted the hesitation, almost as though she expected the gesture to be rebuffed, and he put a hand over hers as it lay against his sleeve, squeezing lightly at her fingers.

"Of......me?" Lois said quietly. There was an undertone to the words, almost resigned, as though this was something she had long expected, had even anticipated - that he would tire of her, as partner and friend, as others had before him. Perhaps there was even a shading of surprise - that it had taken until now, that he had stuck with her for so long. Abandonment had been so much a part of her life, from those she cared about most, that she almost accepted it as her due.

She pulled her hand clear, dropping her gaze to study her bared feet and the wooden floor. "I know," she started, hesitatingly, "I can be kind of......well, hard to get along with and, well I'd understand, really I would, if you wanted, I mean if you -- "

"No! Lord, no - not ever!" Clark choked out, suddenly recovering his voice after a moment of stunned silence. He grabbed at her hand again; unconsciously bringing their joined grip up to rest against his heart as he took a deep breath. Almost as though he could persuade her of his sincerity just through letting her feel the rough, triphammer beat in his chest; letting her know the way his heart beat for her. Only for her.

"It's not you, Lois," he reassured her hastily in a slightly more even tone as she looked back up at him, surprised by the vigor of that denial.

He shook his head, as though questioning her lack of self-esteem, her emotional fragility, that she could even think such a thing. He put a hand into her hair as she watched him, waiting, all of her insecurities, all of her hopes, laid bare - stark and vulnerable in her eyes on his.

"How could you think that?" he told her gently.

She frowned at him. "Then what? If it's not me, then -- "

The tenderness fled from his eyes, his hand, which had been moving quietly through her hair stilled. "*Him*," he said and Lois almost flinched before the harsh, bitter sound of that word in his throat.

"H......him?"

Clark pushed himself abruptly free of the door, facing her, needing her to understand. "Him. Superman. I'm just so *tired* of him getting in the way all the time, getting in the way of - " he paused and she studied him, still puzzled.

"Getting in the way? Of what? Clark," a spark of impatience, of familiar irritation, had begun to bleed through her tone now. "I don't understand......"

Clark stared at her, as though taking stock, weighing and measuring. Then: "This," he said simply and reached out, taking her face firmly between his hands and letting his mouth close fiercely over hers.

Her hands came up automatically to cover his, but she made no further move to pull herself from his grasp, her fingers, cool and light, resting against his own as the firm, demanding pressure of his lips dazzled her thoughts into silence. She felt her own lips part as she closed her eyes, willingly surrendering to his with no more thought of resistance......but the warm pressure left her all at once, taking no further advantage, retreating before she became aware that he had gone, his mouth leaving hers almost as quickly as it had found it. Lois opened her eyes as she felt his thumb stroke softly against her cheek and she looked up, dazed, into the deep, soulful brown eyes fixed on hers as he spoke again. "I'm so tired of him getting in the way of this," he said softly.

And then he kissed her again.

Warned this time, Lois considered that she really should put up some kind of struggle. This wasn't what she wanted. This hadn't ever been what she wanted. Not from him. He was her partner. Her best friend. He wasn't......he was......

......he was so *good* at that.

Where'd he learn to be so good at that?

And who had taught him?

The sudden, suspicious - and somewhat indignant - tint to her thoughts was swept away in another moment as Clark tightened his embrace, pulling her closer with a low, masculine groan that threatened to overwhelm her own control. It was the sound of a man rapidly losing touch with reality and becoming engulfed in the sensations she was provoking in him.

Wasn't that......wonderful?

Yes......

Wonderful......

Just......

Oh, Clark......

He lifted his head, eyes pinning hers and she realized she'd moaned that last aloud.

Lois might have felt dismay at having revealed so vividly her appreciation of his attentions, except that what was burning, deep and dark in the mocha-colored eyes fixed on hers, swept away the last of coherent thought and in another moment she was lost as Clark gathered her up close against him, wrapping her tight as he went back to exploring her lips feverishly with his own.

Her next clear thought was to wonder just how - and, come to think of it, when - she had ended up sprawled on her back on the hardwood floor beside the front door; pinned by the taut, muscular body moving restlessly against hers; enjoying the attentions of her partner's mouth and hands as they roamed her, heating her......

She hooked one leg over his thigh, stroking the ball of her foot in a caress across his calf as she arched up into him and cried out softly. Her eyes widened and then slipped closed as she dropped back her head in the wake of his quick, darting kisses across the length of her neck and the hollow of her throat. His hands, fisted gently but restive in her hair, tugged her close again to where those questing lips could find her mouth, her cheek, the soft, sensitive patch of skin behind her ear. A shiver ran through her, rolling in her like waves, all the way down to the tips of her toes.

It didn't occur to her to ask him to stop. Her hands, splayed across the hard slabs of muscle that formed his back, clenching and flexing in a frenzied exploration of him, made no attempt to push him away. Suddenly, so suddenly it burst full blown into her mind - ground zero in a nuclear blast - she realized that she had been lying. To herself. To him. Lying all along. Because she did want this. She wanted this like nothing she'd ever wanted before. And she wanted it from him. She always had.

<Superman......? her mind voiced the thought, a touch uncertainly. Lois evicted it ruthlessly. Superman was an illusion. A fantasy of the best kind. But here and now was the reality. Here and now......with her partner......was the real thing.

And the real thing was......was......oh, sweet Lord......was wonderful......

His body fitted itself against hers, pressing her down into the polished wood beneath her shoulders and buttocks, but she failed to register the discomfort as Clark continued to lavish a trail of open mouthed kisses across her face, her neck, everywhere that he could find of her that was open to him. His lips discovered hers blindly, covering her, exploring, caressing, driving deeper into the moist depths and shallows of her mouth and dueling eagerly with her tongue as she matched him stroke for stroke, ardor for ardor, passion for passion.

And then, he wrenched himself free, pulling back sharply, until he rested on his elbows either side of her heaving breasts, his body crushing her beneath him, his hands still fisted into her hair.

They lay there, entwined, breath panting hard and shallow in their throats as they stared into each other's eyes. Both shaken by the force of the emotions that had swept them up, like a tornado, swirling and pulsing in them and leaving them now, momentarily, calm and still, afraid to move, held, trembling, in the eye of the storm.

And then, Clark's hands dropped away from where they framed her face, slipped down the smooth sides of her throat and rested lightly against her shoulders.

"God......" he breathed out softly. In his voice, Lois heard shock and disbelief. He sounded like a man, used to controlling his emotions, his actions, weighing the risks, calculating the odds, damning impulse as a risk too far......suddenly finding that control lost......and wondering, dimly, where it had been lost......and how. It was the dazed, wondering voice of a man shaken to the very core......emerging from a dream and suddenly face to face with dawn's cold reality. Finally understanding that he wasn't going to wake. Not this time. And, faced with that reality, uncertain if he was truly ready for it.

His gaze dropped away slightly, running down her body, trapped beneath his own, each soft quiver and tremor translating into a pulse of erotic heat as she shivered against him, and then came back to her face, near stricken as he shook his head.

"Lois. Lord, Lois, I'm sorry, I - "

He was moving as he spoke, making the attempt to free himself from the sprawling tangle of limbs that their bodies had become. Her hand, reaching to lay light against the side of his throat, was all it took to still him, to lift his head and fix his eyes on hers. In them, deep and dark and haunting, she saw the faint dawning of hope.

And a question. A question that lit up his eyes and hovered there, unspoken, as though it hardly dared to enter his mind, let alone give itself the courage to be voiced aloud.

Lois answered it - answered him - with a whisper. "Please......"

She felt the muscles beneath her fingers flex and tense up hard as he opened his mouth. He paused as she moved her hand from the smooth heat of his skin and laid her fingers across his lips, pre-empting him.

"Please......" she said again, bringing up her other hand and fisting it with its companion into the shoulders of his jacket as she tugged him down on her again.

"Lois, no......" he protested gently, even as he let her do it. "You don't have to do -- "

For a moment, listening to that denial, Lois felt her heart swell, beginning to beat so hard she thought it might burst.

She knew what he was offering her. Knew that if she told him no now, he would leave, walk away, and he would do his utmost to forget this moment between them ever happened. Would do everything in his power to set their relationship back to simple friendship, even though it cost him everything he had of himself. And he would do it, simply because what *she* wanted, *her* feelings, were more important to him than his own. The enormity of that made her heart creep into her throat and her eyes mist over with unshed tears. In her entire life no one - and certainly no man - had ever offered her that. To put her above their own desires.

But, sweet as the offer was, he was wrong. Their desires weren't in conflict. Their needs were the same. He had no need to protect her this way.

"I know what you're thinking," she said.

"You do?" Clark said and for a moment there was a flare of something disconcerted in his eyes, seen and then gone, as he stared down at her.

Lois smiled coyly. "Besides that," she said and saw him flush at the dryness of her tone.

"Oh," he said.

Lois frowned, suddenly aware that he was hunched over her now in a strangely awkward pose. It puzzled her for a moment, until she realized that he was attempting to stay still as stone against her, twitching not the slightest muscle, while at the same time trying not to lay his weight on her at all. Lois fought the impulse to laugh out loud with the discovery.

Strangely enough, he seemed to be succeeding in his aim. Although she couldn't for the life of her imagine how. Yet, certainly, somehow, his weight wasn't nearly as heavy against her as she considered it should be. She shook her head, banishing this small puzzlement. Whatever. She wasn't about to let him play the gentleman. Sometimes, he took this Kansas farmkid business just a tad too far.

Experimentally, she let her body arch up slightly, pressing herself tight to the lean, muscular body covering hers. A flicker of a satisfied smile crossed her lips as she watched him close his eyes tight in response, his jaw clenching hard as iron. It deepened as she felt the strong twitch of his arousal flex against her stomach.

She looked at him innocently as he opened his eyes and growled a soft complaint. "Lois......"

"You think," she said, putting up a hand to stroke back that stubborn lock of dark hair that had fallen over his brow. "That this is what was in those Rats talking, still. But, it's not."

He looked down at her, eyes troubled in the gloom. "Isn't it?"

"No." She shook her head with the firm denial. "No. I know what I'm doing. I know what I want......"

And she knew, with a sure certainty all at once, as though the thought was something physical that had worked its way loose inside her, something that had freed itself deep within her, that it was true. That simple revelation warmed her, like winter ice melting from where it had encased her heart for so long, thawing, dissolving into nothing and letting that heart beat strong. Strong with love for the man laying atop her now. Strong and fierce with longing and wanting and need for him.

Stronger than anything she'd felt before.

She saw him smile slightly, the desire in his eyes tempered suddenly with a tenderness that made her heart ache anew in her chest and he stroked a soft hand against her cheek.

"So......what *do* you want?" he asked quietly and then hissed out his breath, taken unawares as she arched up tight against him again in answer.

"This," she said breathlessly, closing her eyes, letting her hands caress him, exploring his shoulders and the firm muscles of his back, his arms, as she let herself drift, limp against the hardwood floor, her movements languid. "This is what I want. Clark...... I want to......"

"Lois -- "

She laid a hand softly against his lips again, stopping him before he could complete that thought, before he could persuade himself - and perhaps even her along with him - that she was simply doing this to please him. That pleasing him wasn't what the two of them together was all about. That pleasing him at the sacrifice of her own feelings wasn't what he wanted from her......not now and never in the future. She didn't want to hear that. She didn't want to hear any of that. What she wanted to hear were more of those sounds he'd made when she'd kissed him.

Soft, dark, masculine sounds of passion and heat.

"I want you to......"

She pressed herself deeper against him, fitting herself to him, letting the curves of her body speak for her, and heard him sigh against the side of her neck as he buried his face against her skin.

"Lois......"

His hands rested at her waist, stroking her softly through the cotton t-shirt, caressing her ribs, the swell of her stomach and then dropping away and coming back to trail her arms to her shoulders. His fingers cupping at them tight and then slipped restlessly on, moving down her back as she curved upwards in response, up against the firm body weighting her down, molding herself tight to the hard contours of his chest.

I want......" her words ended on a softly whispered sigh that became a hitch of inward taken breath and then a low moan of pleasure.

"Oh, Clark......Clark......"

She made no protest as he shifted, letting her go just long enough to lift her into his arms, but simply clung tight around his neck and trailed soft, feverish kisses along his jaw until she found his mouth again and claimed it beneath her own, ravaging it in fireflood of eager, restless desire.

Clark stumbled slightly, as though taken by surprise by the ferocity of her explorations and then recovered balance. He let her in, his tongue meshing eagerly with hers, the quick, rough panting of their breath mingling and heating them further. Then he tore his lips away, as though unable to keep from exploring all of her that he could, as though just her mouth could no longer satisfy him, and began a rough nuzzling at her throat and along the line of her jaw. His lips closed briefly on one ear and then renewed its quest to taste as much of her as he could find.

Lost in a shroud of heat and desire, Lois clawed out blindly as they passed the sofa, fingers catching on the low back as she tried to tug them to a stop. Good enough a place as any. She wanted him with her. Now. Needed him with her. Waiting was unbearable.

Clark clearly wasn't satisfied with her decision though. He didn't break his forward stride, didn't pause, didn't even lift his lips from her throat as he caught at her fingers and jerked them gently clear of their hold to set her arm loose around his neck.

"No......" he murmured only and she subsided, letting him take charge. "No. Not here ......" he added, in between trailing kisses across her jaw and cheek and then returned to capture her lips.

Lois put all there was of herself, all there was of passion, into that kiss as she returned it in kind. Her hands fumbled blindly with his jacket, managing to yank it back off of one shoulder and halfway down his arm before he began to aid her. In a matter of moments, she had it dangling in her hand by its collar. She let it drop carelessly to the floor behind them.

And then, somehow, they were in the bedroom. Her bedroom. And she was landing on her back on the bed. So fast she could almost have sworn he flew them there.

His lips were gone, the kisses that had driven her crazy leaving behind a cooling sense of loss and she moaned, lifting her arms blindly to find him and draw him close again.

He loomed over her, a dark shadow in the dimly lit room, backlit by the faint lampglow in the bedroom doorway, so that he became a creature of mysterious hollows and pits of dark and light. A glint of light sparked against his face and Lois reached up a hand, pulling his glasses clear. His hand lifted with hers, a reflexive motion, and then he surrendered them to her.

"You won't need these a while," she whispered, reaching to place them carefully on the cabinet and then she put her hand to his cheek. "Seeing with the eyes is over-rated anyway," she murmured, letting the tips of her fingers glide over the sharp bone and then down to follow the full, sensual line of his lips. "Touch is better."

She smiled as she withdrew her finger and she reached for him.

His hand settled warmly against her stomach through the thin cotton of her t-shirt as he took her lips in his, exploring them gently, settling himself against her again. His fingers stroked softly back and forth against her ribs, but mapped her out no further.

After a moment or two, when it became clear to her that he was letting her set the pace, she moved her hand on top of his and led it gently in a slow glide across her belly and down onto her hip. The t-shirt had rucked up with their languid motions and he stilled as his fingers met bare flesh before he moved the hand in a slow, soft circle against the satin skin beneath his fingertips.

He seemed to be intent on bleeding every molecule of her flesh into the pores of his fingertips and then, with a soft groan into the warmth of her mouth, he shifted. His free arm slid its way comfortably under her shoulders as he gathered her more fully into his arms, letting them connect at chest and belly and thighs, their bodies pressing tight and hot. His hand traced a path from her hip onto the rounded curve of her bottom and then slid downward across the back of her leg, lifting it as it went, bending it at the knee. He caressed his hand back and forth along its length from ankle to thigh as his lips continued to devour hers, heatedly.

Lois wrapped her arms around his neck, turning into his embrace, stretching her body along the length of his, lifting the leg he was stroking higher to hook her ankle around his calf. A move that pressed her up against him and took her breath away, clenching it tight in her throat.

Clark was breathing hard against the side of her neck now as he broke away from her and began to explore her face and throat, lips moving quick and restless on her as they quested their way along her skin.

Lois put her hands to his shoulders and pushed him clear as she sat up to settle gracefully on her knees beside him. Watching him as he settled onto his back, his eyes molten and hot on her, she crossed her hands at the hem of the t-shirt and pulled it over her head in one, fluid motion.

Or tried to.

At least one size too tight for her, it stuck around her throat. She tugged sharply, to no avail, her arms entangled in cotton smelling faintly of the rose herb sachet she kept in her dresser drawers and detergent. Mortified, blushing furiously now, though her face was shrouded, she pulled harder, her movements becoming a little panicked, a little more desperate. Then, she felt Clark's hands settle on her, either side of her waist, just below her breasts, as he shifted onto his knees before her.

Lois stiffened slightly, expecting him to take advantage of her predicament - the perfect opportunity to explore her nakedness. Her previous sexual experiences had already taught her that, for men, lovemaking was about control as much as passion or pleasure.

She tensed, waiting to feel the warmth of his breath against her breasts, the moist touch of his mouth enclosing her nipples and, despite her consternation, she felt those ripened buds harden further in anticipation of his touch. But instead he simply pulled her a little closer, steadying her, before lifting his hands to help her remove the t-shirt.

Lois flushed deeper, bunching the shirt against her breasts, the small moment of embarrassment translating into uncertainty and then the hands spread warmly at her waist again tightened to tug her gently close against him. Clark kissed her, a soft and tender caress meant to reassure before it deepened, became more forceful, overtaken as passion sparked between them again. One arm slid around her, holding her firm and, after a moment, his free hand reached up to cover hers, tugging easily at the t-shirt in her clenched grip. Lois surrendered it without another thought, her arms slipping up around his neck, her hands twisting into his hair as he swallowed her low moan of pleasure.

He drew back a little, after a moment, cradling her weight against his him as his gaze explored the high tint of color in her cheeks and the bright haze in her eyes. His eyes slipped lower, to the naked curves pressed against his chest, and Lois felt the pink flush on her cheeks deepen.

How had she gotten to this? She felt like some inexperienced co-ed, seduced for the first time. And he seemed so......in control. Wasn't this affecting him at all beyond the physical? How could he be so calm when she felt as though she'd been thrust, poised, on the very edge of oblivion, looking down into the depths of darkness spinning beneath her, dizzying her......

She put out her palm, without thinking, laid it on his chest and felt the rough, unsteady drumming of his heart against her fingers. And then she looked up into his eyes.

And all her doubts were shredded and lost as she saw what was burning, deep and hot, in the glowing, coffee-colored eyes of her partner. As she saw how thin a veneer that control really was. How tightly he was holding on to it. How close he was to losing it.

She saw him swallow roughly, watched the way his throat worked with the motion, and then he reached out a hand, his fingers just brushing the side of her breast, following its curve, his touch a little hesitant as though afraid that he may be overstepping the bounds of some unspoken pact between them.

"Lois......?" he said softly.

She shook her head slightly. It wasn't what she saw in his eyes that let her know that she was making the right choice. That she could trust him. Claude had been desirable too. Charming, seductive......and his eyes had shown her how much he wanted her, when she'd allowed him into her bed. And, regrettably, into her heart.

But Claude had never been her friend. He had never been there for her, as this man had. Had never arrived at her apartment in the early hours of the morning just to hold her, listen to her babble out her fears, rock her gently as she relived her nightmares, after she'd woken him from sleep with a frantic phone call. And left when morning came, without ever asking more of her than she was prepared to give.

Claude's idea of helping her through the bad times would have been to offer her tea and sympathy and then crawl into bed with her. If he'd found time to offer her comfort at all. Sex as a catchall cure, she thought derisively.

But Clark......Clark would never hurt her. She knew that. Not in any way. He wanted more from her than just this moment of sexual pleasure. He wanted her companionship, her love, her trust......all that she wanted from him. All of that too was in his eyes, clear and shining, as they studied her gently and waited for her response to a still unasked question that hovered between them like a breath of anticipation on the air.

Lois smiled and put her hand on his, pressing gently and guiding his palm to fit against the warm malleable flesh of her breast. Seemingly reassured, he showed no more reservation as he began to explore the round, heavy weight he held. The pad of one thumb moved to skim gently across a drowsing nipple and his gaze intensified as he watched it rouse to pouting life. Lois sighed and let herself melt into the encircling support of his arm around her waist as she closed her eyes. A small, low whimper clogged in her throat and she felt his touch on her still for a moment before it resumed and then firmed, applying more pressure as his thumb continued to stroke steady whorls of pleasure against the hardening peak beneath it.

Clark lifted his head reluctantly from where he watched his hand move against the pale, honey-colored skin, fascinated by the play of emotions crossing his partner's beautiful face as he brought her pleasure. He shifted, withdrawing his hand reluctantly and lowering her gently with him to the bed again, before returning his hand to her breast and renewing his gentle caress.

After a moment, Lois felt the warmth of his breath replace those gently rousing fingers and she sighed quietly, a soft sound in the silence that bled into a small, welcoming cry as the tip of his tongue pressed against the stiffened bud of her nipple, exploring lazily, circling and then retreating. For a moment, nothing. Nothing, but the rough pounding of her heart and the hitch of her breath in her throat, and then his lips enclosed the pebbled flesh, barely closing enough to hold it within the warm dampness of his mouth. For a moment he was still again, seeming to savor the taste and feel of her, then he closed his teeth gently on her and tugged lightly.

Lois gasped out a breath and arced up against him. Encouraged, Clark repeated the move and then began to alternate that delicious pull, that sent eddies of rough, electric heat spiraling down through her breasts to join the tingling that was beginning to grow, deep between her thighs, with light raking of his teeth. Then he reverted to suckling lightly on the nipple in his mouth.

Lois raised her head slightly, watching his mouth move tenderly against her skin. She put out a hand and stroked it through his hair, a sudden, inexplicable wave of tenderness cutting through the electric jolts of pleasure that his suckling of her breast was producing, low down in her belly. An urge to protect him, cherish him, rose so fiercely in her that it took her breath away and then her lips parted on a soft, wondering cry as Clark moved his head, shifting his attentions to her neglected breast. She cried out again as his mouth closed warmly over its aroused tip and began the steady, quickening pull he'd already learned pleased her. His hand enclosed the breast he'd just abandoned, kneading firmly at flesh, slick with his mouth's workings on it. He squeezed the nipple between his fingers and Lois whimpered, her body beginning to move restlessly against his own.

Clark seemed to sense that her arousal was quickening in her belly. He rose to his knees beside her as she looked up at him with trust in her eyes. He kept his eyes on her face, on the dark spread of her hair against the pillow, as he made short work of divesting himself of his shirt, tossing it aimlessly behind him and then his body was covering hers as he returned to pleasuring her.

He groaned, deep in his throat, at the intoxicating sensations as his naked flesh pressed tight against hers. His movements became slightly rougher on her flesh, stroking and teasing and suckling until he drove her into a frenzy of need. Her hands fluttered against his hair, pressing him deeper into her, a silent plea for more that he was happy to acquiesce to. The soft wool mix of the pants he still wore and what it was shrouding rubbed hard against the juncture of her thighs where she was already damp, heating her still further.

His other hand traveled from where it was softly kneading at her breast and slid its way down the smooth, silken plane of her belly. His fingers paused when they met the cotton of the sleep shorts he'd provided her with earlier and then tightened against the elastic waistband.

Lois aided him, her movements restless as she lifted to allow him to draw the shorts downwards. Although his own movements were awkward with impatience, he still took his time divesting her of the garment, letting his hands explore the new expanse of smooth flesh he was baring. His hands paused to cup at the warm, full globes of her buttocks as he manhandled the shorts down onto her thighs and then he went back to the task, easing the shorts further until he slipped them off of her entirely and lost them somewhere amongst the sheets.

His hands spread themselves at her knees and then up onto her thighs as she quivered beneath his touch, her hips circling lightly, her soft mewling cries setting him ablaze, reckless and delirious with the astonishing knowledge that it was his touch which was producing those small whimpers of pleasure.

He explored further, and paused again as he connected with the lure of heat and pulsing desire that lay at the juncture of those silken thighs.

Lois gasped out a quick breath as she felt his fingers slip firmly into the nest of curls shrouding the heart of her core and then move lower still. Shivering uncontrollably, she felt her stomach muscles tense in anticipation of his touch as his palm covered her mound and his fingers slid deeper, instinctively seeking out the damp heat that lay within.

She mewled softly, closing her eyes as the backs of his knuckles drifted lightly across her labia, back and forth, sending a delicious tingle through her veins. She moaned as two of those stiffened fingers worked their way gently against the swollen inner lips, their rhythmic motions rubbing against the center of her core as they squeezed her inner flesh between them. She whimpered as first one finger then two entered her, gentle in their explorations, soft in their inquisitiveness. They moved within her, stroking her, heating her. Instinctively, she spread herself wider, opening herself to him, offering him up her trust along with her body.

Liquid heat pooled itself into the pit of her stomach as his fingers explored her moist folds gently and authoritatively, their expert stroking, firm and rhythmic, changing pattern and pace enough to keep her surging repeatedly on the cusp of reaching the peak her body craved and strove to reach. Over and over. The sudden rise of that heat in her took her by surprise......

......and there was something else. A warm, electric tingle, way down deep, that began to pulse and spiral out from the point where his fingers stroked her gently, pulling her belly tight. Something tantalizingly familiar and yet wonderfully new. Something beautiful. Something......oh, dear god......

She began to writhe frantically under the weight pinning her deliciously to the soft mattress.

"Clark! Oh, please, Clark, I......I can't......!"

The rushing murmur of her words stopped abruptly as her mouth stretched wide on a high cry of pleasure. Her swift rise over the edge and into orgasm surprised both of them. Dimly, sobbing and crying out as she came, soft shudders rolling over her in waves, she was aware of Clark holding her close against him, his fingers still gently easing her over the edge of another bright surge of pleasure.

When, at last, she fell limply into the arms enfolding her against a damp, warm chest, she felt his hands on her hair.

"God, Lois, I'm sorry. I didn't think -- "

<What? The thought bubbled up slowly to emerge from the wash of heat she floated blissfully on.

"I didn't know you would be ready like that so......*fast*. Lois, I - " He shook his head as Lois looked up, bemused, into eyes that were distraught and touched with just a little guilt.

Her heart filled with that protective warmth again as she stared up at him. <Where did you come from, Clark Kent? she thought, wonderingly. He had brought her to the first orgasm she'd ever experienced with any man - the most wonderful, beautiful moment she had ever known - and now he was apologizing for taking her there too fast?

"Oh, Clark......" she whispered as she reached up with her hands to frame his face and tugged him down to kiss him fiercely.

He seemed to get the idea that she wasn't too unhappy with the way things had gone between them pretty quickly. His lean weight settled itself fully against her as he took over the kiss passionately, his tongue pushing its way forcefully and eagerly between her parted lips and feverishly exploring the warm cavern of her mouth.

After a moment, emboldened by her passion, she let her hands drift over his taut shoulders and lower back, rested them on the cradle of his hips and stroked her way across the firm rise of his buttocks before she frowned. He was slightly over-dressed for this party still, she thought, a little disappointed. The itch to feel the smooth warmth of his skin, to feel the press of naked flesh to naked flesh, tingled in the tips of her fingers as they caressed him and resolved itself in an answering prickle of heat, deep in the secret depths between her thighs.

She moved inward, searching, burrowing between the electric motion of their bodies and felt him shift upward slightly as she found the snap of his pants, automatically accommodating her in her quest. As she struggled blindly, he moved a hand to cover hers, jerking the snap apart and tugging at the zipper with a hard yank of his fingers. He helped her shimmy pants and briefs --

- briefs? Somehow, she'd always figured him for a boxers kind of guy --

-- down around his thighs and he groaned into her mouth as he was freed from their restriction. Lois echoed it against his lips as she felt the sudden hard length of his......impressive......arousal press deeply into her inner thigh. Wow, she thought, shifting slightly, wriggling eagerly, trying to position that wonderful evidence of his attraction for her more firmly against the heated core that longed for its attention.

And then, breathless and panting, she pushed slightly clear of him.

Responsive to her obvious desire to call a halt, Clark withdrew only enough to allow her to wriggle her way to the edge of the bed, as though he couldn't bear to let her go beyond that. He watched her body undulate beneath his as he supported himself on his elbows, either side of her, his expression just a touch bewildered. Lois hit a hand out blindly for the cabinet beside the bed, even as she hooked her free arm around his neck and pulled him down against her again.

Lois sighed, closing her eyes and stretching her neck as he buried his face in her shoulder and nuzzled in its hollow with warm lips, still uncertain as to what she was doing, but content to let her get on with it while he found other diversions. Her hand hit the edge of the drawer she was blindly seeking, somehow managed to coordinate enough to drag it open while still rubbing her body electrically against the hard, masculine curves pressing her to the bed.

She yanked hard and scrabbled within its depths for long moments as she moaned softly and sighed out his name and then found what she was looking for, just as she was on the verge of forgetting what it was she was searching for, forgetting why she'd been searching at all, forgetting everything but the sensations his body was producing in hers as he moved gently against her and the fire his lips were trailing against her skin.

"H-here......" she breathed out and offered up the small foil packet as he lifted his head and looked down at her. He took it, still bemused, and then, lifting a brow, looked up at her.

Lois found herself blushing fiercely. "I......I just hope its not past its sell by date," she quipped lamely. "It's been......I mean I'd had it in there a long time." She was blushing so hard now she thought she might just spontaneously combust and for a moment she almost wished for it. It beat hoping the floor would open up and suck her down. Anything to save this embarrassment. God, what if he thought she hoarded the darn things all the time?

Clark rolled the unopened condom packet between his fingers, looking back at it thoughtfully. This was awkward. He didn't really want to use it. He'd waited so long for this moment, to bury himself within her, like coming home; to feel her wrapped around him, savoring all the sensations of her to the full. Yet......how could he tell her it wasn't necessary?

<Hey, that's okay, Lois - I'm completely immune to all earthly viruses, so I don't have AIDS and - whaddyaknow - I'm a virgin, so you don't have to worry about any STD's either, even if I *could* catch any!

Oh, yeah. That would work. Talk about killing the moment, cold.

On the other hand, it occurred to him to consider, so suddenly that he wondered why it hadn't struck him before now, she certainly did have to worry about an unplanned pregnancy.

Who knew whether he could successfully procreate with a human woman? On the other hand - and infinitely more scaring - for all he knew he could be a hundred times more potent or fertile than your average human male. After all, he was infinitely stronger in every other sense. Why should this be different?

That made him pause. He looked at the innocuous little foil packet. For all he knew he could be carrying Super-sperm that would breach this fragile looking rubber barrier without working up a sweat. Was Lois using oral contraception? Would that stop the little suckers any better, even if she was?

He held back a sigh.

"Clark......?"

He glanced up as her soft, hesitant voice filled the shadows and saw the uncertainty on her face; realized he'd been staring at the packet in his fingers far too long.

His body burned where it lay against her smooth flesh and the heat radiating from her. The arousing scent of her desire made his head swim. It was so hard to think......

<So, *stop* thinking...... a small inner voice spoke up recklessly within him. The one that was taking careful account of Lois' body as it moved erotically and electrically against his. <Hell, you think too much anyway, it added distractedly as it roamed the soft curves laying supine beneath him.

"If......if you don't want to -- " Lois said tentatively.

He smiled; put up a hand to stroke against her cheek, reassuring her.

"Lucky one of us has the brains in this partnership," he said lightly and saw her relieved smile answer him. "I should have thought of this myself."

She shook her head slightly and then said shyly, "If you like I could......you know......" He could see her blushing faintly in the darkness.

He grinned and handed her the packet with a flourish.

"Be my guest."

That stain of pink blooming on her cheeks deepened as she shifted, letting him roll onto his back as she tore at the foil packet with her teeth to liberate the thin, oiled sheath. Her embarrassment faded however as she was able to use the excuse of sheathing his rigid shaft to really explore him for the first time.

For a moment she was appalled at her own wantonness and yet......she didn't feel wanton. Not in the least. It felt natural to do this for him. To touch him. To let her fingers stroke across the silken sheath of skin shrouding his arousal. To let his warmth beat blood red against her palm.

It all felt right. All of it. As though something in her recognized him at a deeper level, her body holding a memory of his as though it was imprinted on her soul; her heart sheltering close a remembrance of his love. She shook her head at the fancy, yet it lingered with her, as she shifted her hand smoothly along the engorged shaft in her grasp. She couldn't explain it. But she knew she didn't need to.

All she needed to know was that being with Clark, like this, was right.

She took her time over her curious exploration of him, forgetting about the packet in her hand as she let her fingers wrap around the swollen, pulsing length of his desire. He felt so smooth, so hot, she felt the beat of blood heating her hand as she curled her fingers tighter around him and heard him gasp softly in the darkness, his hips quivering as he fought to lay still in her grasp. The pulse embraced by her fingers beat roughly and fast, in time with her heart's own siren call and for a moment she closed her eyes, kneeling there in the dark, letting the feel of him, the pulse of him, carry her into oblivion.

A rough, guttural groan, that was half protest, half pleasure brought her back and she realized that, unconsciously, she'd begun to stroke him harder, faster, as she'd drifted. He lay, arched on the bed, his entire body held in thrall at the point where she held him, his large, muscular frame trembling fiercely as he moaned and then gasped out a harsh breath as she let him go.

Lois hesitated and then lowered her head, taking him gently into the moist heat of her mouth.

Contrary to popular belief among those who thought they knew her, Lois had actually had very little practical sexual experience. There had only been two men in her life before Clark, and neither of them had been anything to wave flags over. A high-school sweetheart whose inexperienced fumblings had matched her own, had been the first, and the experience had been painful and messy and not encouraging.

Claude had been more experienced, able to make her body respond to him and smooth enough to make her believe she loved him. It had been Claude who'd given her her first - and, until now, only - experience of oral pleasure. For him at least. Lois hadn't enjoyed the act at all. Had, in fact, been a little frightened of it. She'd only performed it on him because he'd been so insistent, using, she realized in retrospect, his knowledge of how badly she wanted to please him, how afraid she was to disappoint him, to persuade her against her own reluctance.

She had sworn she'd never repeat the experience after that. And yet, now, it seemed so......natural......so right......to take this next step with the man laying with her in her bed, in the darkness of her room.

Fully aroused, he was slightly larger than she remembered Claude being, yet she seemed able to accommodate him easily. Claude had taken over the act of fellatio fairly quickly as he'd become aroused by her pleasuring of him and his slightly rough thrusting between her lips had been uncomfortable for Lois, even a little painful. Clark, in contrast, made only the lightest of movements within the warm cave of her mouth, his hips, unable to remain completely passive and overtaken by their own, rhythmic response to her caressing lips, nevertheless moving only lazily. An easy counterpoint to her own motions that delighted her all at once. His rough sounds of breathy appreciation made her eager to please him more and she increased the tempo of her steady pull at his swollen shaft.

And then she felt his hands settle, either side of her head. Immediately, she tensed, pulling back reflexively, waiting for the inevitable tightening of his grip, for his hands to fist in her hair and drag her down. Claude had controlled her that way and, although she could hardly say that he'd forced her into it, he had, at the very least been insensitive, blind to her emotions and too lost in his own pleasure to consider hers.

Being unable to control the act, being held in place with no choice but to take him in further than she'd been prepared for and receive the liquid offering of his seed as he gave it to her, had been just a little distasteful. It had made her feel slightly cheap. Used. Even before she realized she had been, in more ways than one.

So, she stiffened, caught suddenly in the bitter, shameful memory, like something small and frightened held in a snare. But the hands laying against her hair were soft still, even in the midst of their restless clenching and fisting. They made no attempt to control what she was doing and after a moment they relaxed their grip. She felt his touch stroke through her hair and his quiet sigh tremble in the darkness of the room. One hand shifted, drifting down along the side of her throat, brushing a gentle caress against her skin and then his hands did take hold of her head, pulling her firmly......back. Off of him.

Lois looked up at him, surprised and confused as Clark shifted his grip to her upper arms and drew her smoothly upward until she was laying high against his chest. His eyes, fixed on hers, were twin points of glitter and flame in the dark, drawing her in as she stretched out across his supine form and brought her lips against his.

The thick length of his arousal pulsed against her belly as her weight trapped it between them and she shivered at the sensation as the soft mound of her sex brushed up against its base.

His kiss was almost gentle, a soft caress, passionate and warm, yet reverential too.

When he drew back, enough that he could study her face again, there was a softening of tenderness among the heat in his gaze. He shook his head a little, his hands stroking lightly back and forth across her arms before they lifted to frame her face. His eyes searched hers for a small instant and then he leaned in to kiss her again, tasting his own salt muskiness in her before he withdrew.

"You don't have to do that, Lois," he murmured. "Not for me."

Lois felt a sudden, rough blockage, deep in her throat, as she stared into the earnest, tender eyes of her partner. How had he known?

"I want to," she said softly and knew it was true. There had been no shame in the act for her. Not this time. Not with him. Because, the difference was, she'd offered it in love and entirely of her own free will. And because she knew that she wanted to explore everything there was of love with him, all the ways there was to love a man - and be loved by him. "I want to make you happy."

"This makes me happy." His lips pressed themselves to hers again and she closed her eyes, a soft whimper breaking in her throat as she opened her lips beneath the insistent pressure of his. She let her head fall back as he progressed from lips to jaw, following the line of bone to its hook and then shifting that trail of hot caresses across her throat.

"Let's leave the advanced mutual exploring for later," he murmured against her skin, intent on his journey, mapping out her skin, his words sending a low thrill of pleasure through her body.

<Later, she thought, giddy as a schoolgirl. There was going to be a later! He wanted to be with her again. He was going to stay. After......

Mutual?

"M-mutual......?" she ventured and felt his slow smile against her skin.

"Sure. You didn't think you were going to have all the fun, did you?" he said, lifting his head to look into her somewhat disconcerted eyes and then, as she found herself thinking on all of the intriguing - and exciting - possibilities that conjured up in her head, he kissed her again.

"But, right now......" he went on, after a moment, moving his head to explore the other side of her throat and traveling upward lazily to grasp the lobe of her ear between gentle teeth before shifting restlessly on, "Right now......I want to be inside you......"

Lois shivered as his hands took hold of her hips and he rolled them over, burying her beneath him with the words, settling his weight against her firmly.

"I want to make *you* happy......" he whispered, covering her mouth with his. "*I* want to please *you*......"

Lois gasped out a breath as he released her, lost in a daze of heat and pleasure now as she felt him move against her, felt the warm nudge of his arousal press against her thigh. Eager now, she spread herself wide for him, offering herself up to his ardor as she closed her eyes and held on tight to his shoulders.

Despite herself, she froze a little as she felt the tip of him enter her. She hadn't been with a man in such a long time, the sensation of him within her was almost virginal. She blushed a little with the thought. But, somehow, he seemed almost to be anticipating that tightness in her. He was diffident and cautious as he pushed his way further. Gently stretching her to accommodate him as she closed, hot and moist, around him; moving no deeper than she was ready to take him. With each small advancement forward he paused, letting her adjust to his sweetly welcomed invasion as he drew soft caresses with his lips across her shoulder, savoring the scent of her skin and the soft touch of it against his lips before he moved cautiously within her again.

There was no pain. No discomfort. Only heat. She could feel the warm, muscular body pressed against her shudder with the effort of holding back, of staying in control, and she felt an almost overwhelming sense of wonder move her in among the sensations his entry into her were spilling through her body. As though the whole sum and substance of her existence lived at the point where their bodies joined.

Clark paused as he slipped deeper, as she tensed in his arms and a soft, keening cry broke the still darkness. Lois, sensing his hesitation from beyond the dim, rocking warmth that enveloped her body, clutched at him, pulling him down against her. Her hands splayed across his naked buttocks, pressing him forward, desperate to have him inside her now - all of him. Unwilling to wait.

He slid deeply into her slick warmth and then moaned, a deep, masculine sound of relief as he let the sensations of being buried in her to the hilt, completely surrounded by the silken vice of her depths, her inner muscles squeezing and caressing his length, wash over him like a tide.

After a moment, he lifted his hips slightly, withdrawing a little and then thrust back into her gently with a low sigh. If he hadn't had so many other things gathering in his mind he might have been taken by surprise by Lois' reaction to his renewed penetration. She gasped out softly, her body arching as she clutched wildly at the blanket beneath her, writhing, her lips forming his name in a breathless whimper......

......and the image that had been floating dimly on the far reaches of her mind suddenly broke through the haze of passion and pleasure that roiled in her and coalesced into sharp relief. Lois' eyes flew wide.

"Clark......!" she gasped out. "Clark, wait......the --- "

But the words were lost in heat as an electric current shocked its way through her in response to his ploughing deeper into her core again, fading in a cry of pleasure. Her thoughts scattered.

Encouraged by the bright surge of pleasure that transformed her face, Clark repeated the instinctive motion, stroking into her with firm, slow and steady thrusts of his hips. Wonderingly, he felt her begin to move with him, taking over the lazy rhythm, matching and then surpassing it. He let himself be taken along with her, giving himself over to her.

"Lois......" he whispered, her name a benediction on his lips as he fell into rhythm with the soft, circular, encouraging motions of her hips as she lifted them against his. His mind drifted, swallowed by the steady, rhythmic motions as they moved as one, his body finding its way instinctively, as though suddenly discovering something familiar yet unknown, new and ancient all at once.

Lois cried out, her hands kneading desperately against his shoulders as she drove up harder against him, whimpering and pleading for release and Clark brought his mind into sharp focus with an effort.

Too fast, he thought.

From the wealth of adolescent reading that Clark had explored on the subject, he knew that control was something learned by men with time and practice - and which some never learned at all. But he was determined that his body's untrained eagerness to bury itself inside her and fill her completely with its essence, claim her for its own, would not be allowed to make this anything less than wonderful for Lois. If ever there was a time when he blessed his better than average control over his body it was now. He was supremely confident that his superpowers could overcome and compensate for the instinctive urges roiling in his belly and flooding heat through his groin.

That confidence transferred itself naturally to the way he moved within the moist, welcoming depths that opened up to accept him. His thrusts into her becoming fiercer and stronger as she cried out sharply and met his stroking with eager motions of her hips.

He heard Lois moan.

It was a sound he'd never heard any woman make before, but he didn't need to have heard it to recognize it as the soft cry of a woman on the brink of ecstasy, on the cusp of fire and heat.

It just about drove him crazy, touching a primal instinct buried deep within him, a sound which resonated within him, racing in his blood, heating fire in his loins.

His deeply penetrating thrusts within her picked up power and pace in response, sacrificing rhythm for rough desire, driving her further, pulling them both higher and further, up into the bright, burning pulse of light and heat.

"Beautiful......" she heard him murmur against the side of her neck and then he drove hard into her again and she convulsed sharply around his invading thickness, feeling a dim surprise fill her as she fell back into the golden heat and pulsing light that burst around her like stars and showers, her soft cries of pleasure overtaken by his own, his satisfaction emerging in a rough, guttural crying out of her name.

Clark felt her reach completion as she tightened around him, squeezing him; caressing him; the muscles wrapped tight around him rippling as her orgasm built to a pulsing wave and then he was with her, filling her, pouring himself into her, crying out in his joy and feeling himself slide inexorably into the warm pit of bright, shining darkness that swept up to meet him.

*****

For the longest time, Lois felt nothing but warmth. She was floating, wrapped in the protective cocoon of her lover's arms, secure in his embrace, sheltered by his heat clasped tight around her.

Safe......

She smiled, snuggled deeper, felt his muscular arms pull her reflexively closer, a soft drowsy grunt against her shoulder his only other response.

Lois tilted her head to view the dark top of his and stretched slightly, glorying in the feel of him against her, limbs entangled, the soft rise and fall of his chest against her breasts, their bodies slick with the cooling heat of their passion. She reached out a hand, stroking it through the silk of his hair and trailing it softly against the skin of his shoulder. He felt like smooth, burnished steel.

The blissful, slightly dreamy smile that had begun to spread on her face vanished all at once as reality crashed in around her, intruding rudely on the warm, cozy lethargy of her afterglow. Her eyes widened.

Her lover......

<What did I do?

<What did you *do*? You made love to your *partner*, Lois. That's what you did.

<*Actually*......*he* made love to *you*......

That last seemed to have an echo attached, reminding her of something. But it flitted away from her before she could grasp it and floated into the sea of bright moving colors that still filled her mind, drifting out of reach in another moment.

Lois held back a soft sigh, absently resuming her slow stroking of the thick hair beneath her fingers. Maybe she should just work out another set of life choices to live by, she thought wearily. The old ones sure didn't seem to be working any.

She bit down into her lower lip as she stared at the ceiling through the darkness of the room. She had the unwelcome feeling that she was going to pay for this breaking of the rules. And pay hard.

Again.

But she couldn't find it in her to regret anything about what had just happened between them. She just couldn't. And she could trust Clark. She always had trusted him, she realized. Right from the first. He was no Claude. He'd never betray her. Or hurt her.

She already knew that with Clark there were no shades of gray. In everything; his beliefs, his opinions, his...... - the smile, smug and self-satisfied, returned to grace her lips again - ......his passion......he was open, honest and entirely guileless. She could see right through him as though he were plate glass: completely transparent.

He was loyal. Tender. He --

He moved his head slightly, nuzzling at the juncture of her throat, his hands tightening where they lay against her waist. Lois forgot to worry about the implications of what she'd done. She closed her eyes, drifting with the moment, wishing it would never end. Reliving the ways that he had loved her.

She had never known a man be so responsive to her needs before, who seemed to be watching carefully for each sign and signal from her body, almost anticipating her desires before she could. Perhaps that was why...... She blushed furiously in the darkness. Who would have believed that any man could have made her......not once, but......well, three times at least. Maybe more than that. There had been a time there where it had become hard to separate herself from the repeated implosions of heat and light that shuddered through her body. There had been a wave rolling over her, drowning her, caressing her, like being swept up into the eye of a hurricane and then......there had been nothing.

Nothing but heat......and floating......and the deep, warming embers of satisfaction settling in her lower belly that came with having been loved.

The soft flush of heat burning her cheeks and throat deepened.

Not surprisingly - she doubted she'd been his only victim - Claude had been an experienced and expert seducer. But he had never been an expert lover for all that. A fact which would undoubtedly have come as a surprise to Claude himself. The simple truth however was that he'd never brought her to completion like that, simply because he hadn't cared enough about her in the midst of his own pleasure to do so.

The epiphany swept over her. What they'd just shared - she and Clark - hadn't been sex. It was......it was......*love*.

Love.

The word settled in her heart and grew there, like a budding rose unfolding its petals to the light after a winter spent underground. For the first time in her entire life, someone had cared enough about her to actually make love to her. Not slake his own passions in her body. Not use her to satisfy himself. But to take time enough to find her, explore her, set aside his own passions to complete hers. To give her everything he had of himself, without reservation. Without deceit. Honest and caring and --

"Lois......?"

His soft voice in the darkness, tinged a little with concern. She realized all at once that she was trembling so fiercely her entire body was quivering. A tremor he could surely feel against his skin.

In answer, she simply shook her head and burrowed her face against the warm, cinnamon smell of his shoulder.

"Hold me......" she whispered. "Just hold me. Please......"

He wrapped himself around her tighter, gathered her closer and did as she asked, saying nothing more. His hand stroked its way gently across her shoulder, soothing her.

She lay quietly, breathing soft and deeply, drawing the calm, familiar scent of him into her lungs. Just as she was beginning to feel oppressed by his continuing weight against her, he shifted.

Rolling onto his back a little, he kept light hold on her, pulling her with him until she rested against his chest. He stroked gently at her hair. Lois felt herself enveloped in the tenderness of his arms. She could feel herself enveloping him too, from where he was still buried inside her, the faint twitch of him against her vaginal walls rousing her slightly to a small, pleasurable moan. He felt so good. As though he belonged. As though they belonged. Joined together.

She found herself wondering though over the fact that he had stayed with her like that. Something else that was new. He hadn't drawn away from her almost in the moment of his own climax, when he'd had his fill of her, but had continued to thrust within her, ensuring she was with him, before he let himself finish. Even then, he'd stayed within her, seemingly content to lay with her, still wanting contact with her, despite the fact that he was through with her body.

For Lois, who had only ever known men who'd put their own pleasure first, never really thinking about or considering her needs at all, other than in the most superficial of ways, this was a startling development. But, considering the man who lay with her, not entirely unexpected, she realized, after mulling it over a moment.

She felt a slow warmth suffuse her, starting at the point where their bodies lay joined, and another, involuntary twitch of interest came from the thick, male shaft embedded deep within her still as her inner muscles clenched around him with the drift of her thoughts. It was followed by a low sigh from her partner as he shifted slightly, turning his head to bury himself deeper against her breasts, nuzzling lazily at the lower curve of the nearest. It was a sound of lazy satisfaction and it made her want to purr aloud her own contentment.

He was so careful of her, she thought, feeling that warmth gather, deep in her loins. So kind. He was......she felt that broad, slightly goofy smile start to spread across her face again and hurriedly quashed it......*incredible*. He was......he was......

A flicker of confusion pricked at her blissfully meandering thoughts as a sudden new reality intruded upon them. She frowned.

He......was......

Oh......my......God......!

Her eyes snapped wide, frozen in an almost comical expression of shock and dawning horror as she scrambled upwards, kicking out frantically to jerk herself free of the arms holding her, almost dislodging herself over the edge of the bed in her panic to get loose. She felt him slip from where he rested, warm and soothing within her, and, despite the frantic mantra rushing through her mind......

Nonononononononononononononononnonononononono.........oh God, *NO*!!

Part #3