WEDDING JITTERS

She stood there a moment, framed by the lines of pure, white light that seeped into the room from the bathroom behind her and surrounded her like a halo's innocence. As though drawn by a beacon, her eyes fixed immediately on the man lying naked in the bed, only feet away.

Mesmerized all at once, like a rabbit confronted by a hunting cobra, she could do nothing more than stare. She had left the bathroom full of bravado, sure of her appeal. Lex had assured her that Clark Kent would not find her undesirable. But now, seeing him so close, so...there, without clothes even, that very desire glowing like banked embers in his eyes...she felt her confidence desert her. She felt very like a child, afraid of the unknown, even more afraid of what she thought she knew already of men and the world.

Both were dangerous. Both could hurt.

Playing for time, she plucked nervously at the sides of her white silk robe, palms smoothing the soft material over her hips. She made no move to join him on the bed. His eyes devoured her like a hungry animal's and then he smiled. There seemed to be nothing threatening in the smile. But she moved no closer just the same. She was reminded of the scary stories she'd read on the computer when she wasn't being observed and was supposed to be taking notes on the lives of the soon to be Mr. and Mrs. Clark Kent - stories that were hoarded like guilty secrets and which had both terrified her and drawn her in equal measure. Big Bad Wolf. For a moment, in the glow of the single lamp, she thought she caught the glint of fangs. All the better to eat you with.

Except...he didn't really look like a wolf. He looked like a man. A darkly, handsome man. A very handsome man. Whose eyes were running the length of her slim figure in ways that made her feel nauseated and hungry and sick with excitement all at the same time. Only chocolate had had that effect on her until now.

The glow of admiration igniting in the rich depths as they followed the white silk and lace that sheathed and draped and clung in all the right places up until they reached her disconcerted eyes was fierce and hot enough to sear. The smile widened into a cocky grin.

"Hey, there," he said.

His voice matched his eyes. Warm and caressing. She could almost feel it on her skin, like down feathers, stroking and touching...

She felt her cheeks flush. Her body felt suddenly heavy and hot. Her thoughts fled to another man, dark and handsome too. But his eyes had never made her feel as though she was suddenly in the grip of fever. And his smile had never been anything but cruel.

"You know -- "

She started as the husky voice broke into her thoughts and focused her attention on the man - her husband, her new husband, this handsome man she had to please - as he put aside the glass he was holding and set it carefully to the cabinet beside the bed. Her eyes were drawn to where the bubbles popped and caught the light of the lamp and she lost herself in the reflected glow of the champagne, as though she could immerse herself in it and escape. Then she pulled her troubled gaze clear with an effort and let it flicker nervously to where he had moved to sit against the bed's edge, pulling aside the bedcovers and all but patting the mattress in invitation to join him.

His legs were smoothly muscular, bare beneath the edge of the sheets. He was wearing plaid sleep shorts. Her eyes and mind darted past them, hesitant to venture there too long - dangerous territory - and slid up onto the compact, bronzed and well-shaped pectoral muscles of his chest. She daren't meet his eyes. But his...chest, his...shoulders...the tight lines of his abs and stomach...

She felt her breath shorten in her throat, like a noose tightening. Her heart began to stammer in her breast, its suddenly wild, rabbit beat painful against the walls of her chest.

" - I have imagined this moment for *so* long..."

Emotion trembled in the words; his eyes seemed to give them an import she didn't understand. This moment? She swallowed fitfully past the blockage in her throat. She'd been given instructions on how to proceed to 'this moment' of course. But that didn't mean she had to like it any.

Outside, in the darkness, thunder rolled an ominous drumbeat across the sky. She was not made for thinking of omens or portents - in many ways she wasn't made for thinking at all. But still, she suppressed a shiver as she obeyed his silent summons, hearing that dull boom of sound shiver its way through her bones. Unable to explain the fear it generated or why it made her feel that disaster, like a dark and shapeless, ravenous beast, was about to pounce on her at any moment from out of the room's shadows.

What would he do when he had her close? Would he...would he hurt her? Lex had hurt her. He had only taken her once and that had really been once more than she had cared for or wanted. It had been painful and sticky and...uuuggghhh. She felt her lips begin to twist into a childish grimace of disgust and hurriedly stopped the motion in its tracks. A poor habit she had learned painfully to suppress if she knew what was good for her - along with so many others.

She didn't know what was good for her, of course. That was mainly the problem. She had simply to trust to the men who had created her to know what was best for her and to tell her what to do. Even if what she had to do was unpleasant and hurt. But it had been necessary Lex had explained to her as she'd sat on the bed in the middle of the cave, trembling with fear as she watched him disrobe. She couldn't go to her wedding night with Clark Kent a virgin, now could she? He had smirked then, as though at some joke, but she hadn't understood the humor and had already known better than to ask.

She didn't understand why it was necessary though. She had been practicing eavesdropping earlier that day - a habit for which she was *not* painfully reprimanded - and had clearly heard Asabi protest that the procedure would be much more easily and quickly carried out in the laboratory by mechanical means. Lois hadn't understood what that meant any more than she had truly understood what it would mean for Lex to give the task his 'personal seal of approval'. But it hadn't sounded like something she wanted to do to her.

Even Lex didn't scare her as much as the laboratory did.

Lex had been even less pleasant in the end. At an instinctive, wordless level, she had understood as he had grunted and sweated atop her largely unimpressed and impervious body that he was doing it less because he had to than because it suited him to dominate his creation.

In some strange way - for surely her opinion of him could matter little? - he seemed driven by the need to exact his power over her. To prove himself her master. And there had been a moment, in among that urge to control, when she had almost felt him grow tender, when he had whispered her name with reverence and genuine desire. It had been there and then gone so quickly though that she had almost believed she had imagined it.

Afterwards, he had been cold and brutal. His words had been cruel. Strange words that she had never learned or been taught. That she barely remembered. So many words for one simple act. It confused her. All that she knew was that the words thrown at her were savage and that he had not been pleased with her performance. His displeasure had scared her so badly that she had fled the bed, naked and shivering, tearing down the long and narrow maze of corridors until she had found a hiding place, huddling there, crying softly in the shadows among a clutter of equipment, until Asabi had found her hours later.

Lex had hardly spoken to her since, except for some last minute instructions - and some graphic previews of what the consequences would be if she failed him.

"Lois....?"

She broke free of the memories and lifted her head. Her new husband...(Clark)...Clark was watching her quizzically from out of those dark, expressive eyes. So familiar, so like those of her Creator...and yet so different, not the same at all. There had been a revulsion in Lex's eyes whenever they fell on her that had made her quiver and wish she was elsewhere. But in this man's eyes...there was kindness mixed in among the heat, an open, honest appreciation of her - and desire.

Steeling her resolve, suppressing the urge to turn and run, she walked towards the bed, remembering at the last moment to inject the smoothly rolling, slinking glide into her walk that she'd been taught men liked.

She sat beside him, diffident. She waited for his next move. Lex, though he had tried to mold her into a semblance of Lois Lane, had nevertheless not encouraged her to be brazen in her actions or to take the initiative.

Up close he seemed...bigger than she'd thought. Fear flickered in her breast again and she started as he reached out a hand. But the fingers that smoothed a path up her arm were gentle, barely a whisper skimmed across her skin. His hand laid itself against her throat and then slid its way across the silk of her robe, baring her shoulder as it went. He leaned toward her to place a quiet, reverential kiss against the smooth skin and she closed her eyes, a soft shiver rolling through her as she felt that caress linger like a brand of heat.

He smelled clean and heady with a scent she didn't recognize but suddenly knew that she liked. A musky hint of maleness, of raw and primal power, that made her head swim.

He withdrew, his face only inches from hers as he smiled into her distant eyes. "Hello, Mrs. Kent."

She forced her lips into an answering smile.

Clark's attention shifted, taken by the ruby bow of her lips, glistening faintly beneath the lamp's aura. He ran the pad of a thumb across the lower curve, his eyes fascinated by the way her lips parted slightly in reflex under that stimulus. He moved the fraction's distance needed to touch his mouth to hers, feeling her open more fully, grant him entry, his tongue exploring all the caverns and hollows within.

She stayed passive beneath the grip of his hand pressed tight against the side of her neck, letting him do as he would. His brow furrowed as he withdrew. He ran a brief tongue across his lips, a strange expression overtaking his face.

"You using a new brand of toothpaste?" he asked, trying to suppress a faint grimace.

Was she? Panicked synapses ran through the store of knowledge that had been impressed into her over the past week. Cups in left hand cupboard, Clark likes coffee, milk or cream, lots of sugar and --

"No," she said. She added a shrug. "Just good old McLean's."

"Oh. Just..." he shook his head. "It was kind of an...uh, unusual taste." He cleared his throat and smiled at her, dismissing the thought, obviously unkeen to spoil the moment. This special moment. But his frown returned as his hands caressed her arms. "You're shivering. Are you cold?"

She shook her head dumbly.

His eyes searched hers. "You're not worried about Lex escaping, are you? Honey," he continued before she could form an answer, "you know they've got roadblocks set and all those people looking for him. He can't hide forever. He'll be caught soon. And Superman will go looking for him too." A small smile quirked at his lips as he reached up to stroke back her hair. "But...not right now."

"Okay."

"So, you're not worried, right?"

"No..."

He tilted his head, a small amusement coming into his eyes as the denial emerged with a tentative edge. "Hey, you're not *nervous*, are you? Honey?" he joked, and then the smile in his gaze flickered out and was replaced by a dawning dismay. "You're not are you?" he said quickly.

Lois paused and took a deep, steadying breath. She cast her thoughts out into the shadows of the room. The moment of truth. Showtime! For answer, she burrowed against his neck and stroked a hand through his hair as he reflexively wrapped his arms around her. She felt him hesitate, sensed his puzzlement, his uncertainty at how to proceed, and then his hand moved to spread itself against the back of her throat, drawing her closer.

"You know, we've gone through so much to get to this night," she heard him whisper reassurance against her ear. "But none of that matters. It's perfect."

She pulled back, her eyes pinning his. "Perfect," she agreed.

He nodded and his smile on her became warm and tender, that soft gentleness reflected in the loam dark depths of his eyes. "When we're together, it can't be anything else. Here," he added, the words rough with anticipation in his throat. "Lay down."

She kept her eyes on him, an anchor to hold on to, as he shifted her in his embrace, laying her back to the covers and settling his large, powerful body next to hers. His eyes were full and lambent with desire as his hands lifted to frame her face. He kissed her deeply and with a passion she'd never known before, the hard, muscular planes of his body settling themselves more deeply against her softer curves.

She was a biological misfit. A changeling formed out of protoplasm in a dark, laboratory vat. But she had been made not only in the image of a woman, but as a woman. And as that woman she was no more immune to the touch of hot desire on her lips or in the hands that were suddenly roaming her body than any other. Her body was programmed with the same natural responses, she had the same sensitive points which made her gasp aloud, startled by the force of the tremor that surged through her when his fingers and lips grazed them. She had the same desires, banked down and dormant, but rapidly coursing upward through her and flaring into new, incandescent birth.

A low moan of pleasure escaped her as new, dangerous, and overwhelming sensations began to pulse deep within her. Like the sudden ticking into life of a timepiece long broken and unused.

"Clark...." she whispered, tasting the name as something strange and unfamiliar on her lips as his mouth left hers and began to trail its way across her throat and shoulder and then lower still. She arched up into the path of his questing lips, her mind imploding into instinctive passion. She growled, low in her throat, and then convulsed around the body pressing her into the soft quilt, wrapping her arms tight around his throat and mirroring the kisses he had just bestowed on her. This was her nature. To learn and imitate. To take what was given her and bounce it back like a distorted reflection in a cheap, fairground mirror.

Her movements matched his, following his path a split second after him as she learned by example. She moaned as his lips suckled hungrily at her shoulder and tasted the musky skin of his as their voices merged. Her hands slipped along his spine and molded themselves to his buttocks, squeezing gently.

"You smell so good," he whispered, as he burrowed close into the sensitive hollow of her throat and nuzzled fitfully at her skin. She felt the cool drift of air on her skin, chill against the heat that was rising in her, as he pulled loosed the ties of her nightgown and drew the material softly away from her until it was bunched around her waist. Like unwrapping a gift.

He paused for a moment, simply drinking in the perfection of her body and then he lowered his head, kissing a trail of tantalizing caresses down between the valley of her breasts and stopping at the dip of her navel. His lips explored her with gentle fervor, retracing their path as his hands stroked light across her ribs and then shifted to pull her tight and hard against him with a groan of surrender.

She clutched him tighter, trying to find rhythm and pattern in the restless motions of his body on hers, trying to plot it and map it like a problem in mechanical math. After Lex had found her disappointing, she had been given 'instructional films' to watch and study, but none of them seemed suddenly to have any link to what was happening to her now or what Clark was doing to her. Her body seemed to have an agenda all of its own, fighting against the practiced, pre-programmed moves she'd learned and going its own way on instinct alone. She gave up, let herself drift, limp and pliant in the embrace of her lover.

Clark continued his heated discovery of her body for a moment and then lifted his head to find her lips again...and was there less passion in his kiss than there had been a moment before? His mouth crushed its way against her and then retreated. He looked down at her, his dark eyes unreadable.

"Honey, if you're too tired to...I mean it's been a long day. For both of us. I wouldn't mind...I mean I'd understand if you just wanted to -- "

She frowned. "I'm not tired."

"You're sure?" He ran his thumb across the line of her brow and then followed the curve of her eye down to her cheek. "You know we've got the rest of our lives to do this. It doesn't have to be tonight just because it's traditional. We've got all the time in the world..." He touched his lips gently to hers again and she caught that flicker in his eyes again, of something uncertain.

Fear spiked through her. She was failing. She couldn't fail. Above all others, this one thing was most important to Lex. Distract him, he'd said. Keep him happy. These she could do in other ways. But this act, she had sensed, was important beyond the subterfuge for which she'd been created. Lex wanted it. For whatever reasons, he wanted it badly.

She had to make love with Clark Kent.

If she failed...

"I want you to...make love to me, Clark." She wound her arms around his neck and pressed her body tight against his. His kiss came to life again as he groaned into the mouth that suddenly matched his ardor in a blaze of ignited fire.

Their bodies melded, twisting and rocking together among the tangled sheets, hands and lips exploring all that they could find, their movements frenzied as she wrapped her arms around him and held him fast against her. Lois slid her hands down across a tautly sculpted back, following the points of his spine. Her fingers hooked beneath the edge of the plaid shorts...

...and his hand caught at hers, stopping it in its tracks.

He was still. His body trembled against hers. His breath flooded hot against the side of her throat, where his face was buried in her shoulder. She stilled too. Puzzled and confused - a machine suddenly out of data to assimilate. Had he...finished, she thought uncertainly and with some disappointment. But no. He hadn't entered her. And he hadn't even done the icky thing yet.

She lay still, waiting for him to give her another clue as to how to proceed.

"One question," he said softly. And then he raised his head.

And in his eyes, suddenly, there was something that caused her heart to leap in terror. Anger and revulsion the equal to anything she had ever seen in Lex.

"Clark - ?"

She cried out as he pushed himself clear of her in a convulsive movement, his hands darting out to grip her arms, pinning her to the bed beneath them with less than gentle force. His voice trembled with rage as he repeated,

"One question and I swear...I *swear*...if you don't answer it with the truth I'll break your lying neck right here."

Her eyes widened and filled with tears. "Clark -- "

His grip tightened. He shook his head, closed his eyes tight against the plea, like a man fighting against a spell of compulsion.

"Tell me," he snarled as he hauled her up violently to face him. "Where the hell is my wife?"

--- Fini

This was written in response to Supermom's what-if challenge on Zoomway's boards