Fic: "Say It Like You Mean It", DCU, Clark/Lois, Adult
I fell off the face of the *earth*, took an LJ break (and I know I owe comments *apologizes*). This? Er. I just had a yen for Clark/Lois pegging fic. Other than that, I have no excuse.
Title: Say It Like You Mean It
Author: Romany
Fandom: DCU
Pairing: Clark/Lois, Clark/Bruce implied
Rating: Adult, NC-17
Length: 2661 words
Spoilers: no specific spoilers (somewhere post Wedding Album), no specific continuity either
Warnings: het, rimming, pegging, slash role-play
Disclaimer: Not mine, seriously. All belongs to DC Comics.
A/N: No specific references to Smallville, but those characters would fit here too.
Summary: Clark's been away saving the world again. He comes home.
Clark stepped out of the bathroom, toweling his hair. "So," he said, "should we call it a night or..." He grinned, looking at Lois leaning up against the headboard and slowly opening the buttons on her nightshirt. "I could be up for this," he said as he tossed his towel to the floor.
"Actually, I thought I'd get a bit of light reading in," she said, the shirt now completely open and falling off her shoulders. "Naked reading. It's a thing."
"Hmm, is it?" Clark slid next to her, ran two fingers up her calf. "Can I watch?"
"Maybe I'll let you turn the pages."
"I might have a hard time reaching them from here," he said, suddenly at the foot of the bed, mouth on the arch of her foot. Okay, so he cheated just a bit with that one, but he planned on working his way back up very slowly. "You, Mrs. Kent, have an incredibly well-turned ankle." This came out a bit mumbled, his tongue busy.
She leaned up and forward, grabbing his hair. "Clark, you goof, get up here."
"But...feet!" he said, only mild protest as he rose with her hand, arching on top of her. He kissed her, arms braced to the side. "Like this?" he said. "I thought we already got our quickie in."
And her hand, releasing his hair, touched the side of his face. "You've been gone a while," she said.
"I know," he said, kissing her again in apology. Three weeks, deep space mission with part of the League. "I missed you."
"Did you...?" and one hand, now a fist, moved up and down.
He had to laugh at that one. Not that he was above doing...that. He couldn't count the number of times when this bed had been empty, Lois herself on assignment, when he'd thought of her, hand curled around himself. "No," he said. "I had to bunk with Bruce. The man never sleeps."
"So he couldn't go for a walk or something?"
Clark rolled to the side, mouthed her shoulder as she rose on one elbow. "What was I supposed to do? Say, 'Hey, could you give me five minutes so I can jerk off?' I'd just get a lecture about discipline and focus. All in five words or less."
"So why bunk at all? Why bunk with you?" she said.
He laughed again. "I have no idea. He says I snore."
She giggled. "You do." But then she sighed. "Sometimes I just don't get you two."
"I don't know if anyone gets him. He's...just who he is, I guess." He turned further into her, murmured against her collarbone, "Can we not talk about Bruce right now? I'd rather talk about the self-pleasuring adventures of Lois Lane. So did you...?" And his hand traced her thigh.
"Every goddamned night, Kent," she whispered against his jaw. "A girl's got to do something."
"Toy box?" he said, raising an eyebrow and grinning.
"You know it," she said, voice low, a whisper in his ear.
He groaned and swelled at the thought of it, shivered slightly. "Keep talking like that, and we'll end up with another quickie."
"Nuh uh," she said, nibbling his ear. "I've got something else in mind. Did a little shopping today."
"Buy something...special?" His fingertips glanced off her thigh, traced the rough hair above, teased slightly.
"I did," she said, leaning away and opening a drawer. "Something new for the box." Her hand came back into view and held...something complicated. Black leather straps with silver studs, and a plastic, well, dick, that bounced slightly as her hand waved it in the air.
"What is that?" he said. Lois had quite a few vibrators, dildoes, in the box, but nothing quite like this...thing. And she looked very pleased with herself.
"It's the new Batman Deluxe 2000," she said. "Isn't it cute?"
Cute? It looked like a weapon. "People use that on themselves?" he said, just a little bit appalled.
"Oh, Smallville, you are the most adorable goof," she said, patting him on the head and leaning over for a quick kiss. "No, you use this on someone else. You wear it and..." she made a few hip thrusts.
Oh. Oh. "You want me to wear this and..." He took another look at it, peering. The studs were actually little silver bats. Oh God. It'd be funny if it weren't so weird. Plus the straps looked a little small. There was no way he could get that thing over his balls. Maybe it was supposed to squeeze or something. He really didn't know. "I don't think it will fit."
And Lois got this wicked, wicked gleam in her eye, the one she got when she straddled him and all he could do was hold on for dear life. "It will fit me just fine," she said while dangling the thing. Black leather and silver studs and big.
"Oh," he said, just a small sound.
"What's the matter, Clark? You don't want to give it up for me?" she said, on her knees now and crawling closer.
He leaned up against the headboard, eyes wide. "Um, can I just process for a second?" he said.
But she didn't pull back. She straddled him, rubbed against him. "Let me have your ass," she said, almost a croon, rough and needful. "I want to fuck your ass."
He put his hands on her shoulders, slowing her down. Looking up into her eyes, he said, "Fingers are one thing..."
"You love my magic fingers," she said, still grinding. And wet. God, she was wet. She was right, he loved her fingers reaching inside, her mouth swallowing his dick. And he was getting impossibly hard.
"You've had mine," she reminded him. "Fair's fair."
Yes, wonderful and intimate, dirty and just them, and so careful, always so careful. She came every time. He made sure of it, his hand wrapping around, her moaning into the pillow. But this...
"You're scared," she said, all shivery whisper. "God, Clark, that's such a turn-on."
There were plenty of ways that she scared him, most of them thrilling and good, her fire, her tenacity, the way she challenged him. But the other scary things...she could leave, she could die. And there had been a time when he thought he could never have this. How could he say no, to whatever she wanted?
"Okay," he said. "But didn't they have anything...simpler? I mean Batman?"
"Well, they had the Superman Deluxe too, but that would be just a little too weird, don't you think?"
"Seriously?" His dick. His. People were going around screwing each other with his dick. And Bruce's apparently. Which Lois had dangling from straps in her hand. Bruce's...which she wanted to put in his ass. He put his hands over his face, rubbed his eyes. Perspective ran away from him, laughing, around the corner of sanity.
"There are blow-up dolls too," she said. And he didn't have to look to hear the smirk on her face.
"I so don't need to know this," he groaned. He let one of his hands fall away from his eyes, reached out. "Can...can I see it?"
"Sure thing," she said. "Here you go."
He took it, turned it over. And he touched...it. That it. And it was firm but kind of squishy, flesh-like but not.
"Do that again," she said. "Touch it."
So he did, just kind of ran his hand up and down. He shivered. "Maybe if you put it on," he said.
"Good boy." So he handed it back, watched as she worked the straps under and around, until it looked like the most decadent bikini bottom ever with a dick sticking straight out. "Touch it again," she said. "This time with your tongue."
He hesitated. A trickle of sweat ran down his back.
"Don't be scared, hon," she said, leaning in and giving him a soft, soothing kiss. "It's just us, okay? Just us."
He closed his eyes. Just them. He took a breath and leaned forward and down as she leaned back. And he found it. Opened his mouth and licked, pliant plastic and chemical and just strange.
"Suck it," she said. "Suck my cock."
So he opened his mouth further, took it in. On his hands and knees now, he opened his eyes, looked up.
"Your mouth, Clark, God, your mouth," she said. A flush spread from her face to her chest, and that, that sent shivers up his thighs to his groin. "Cocksucker," she said, moving slowly in and out until the tip brushed the back of his throat. And his mouth was open and he had no words, all words being pushed away. Just her words falling on him, on the sheets and blanket.
And after a brief time, she pulled out, away. "Turn over," she said. "Ass in the air, Kent."
He did. He turned, arms going under a pillow. One breath, then two. She wasn't...Sure he was hard, from watching her, how she wanted this, but he wasn't ready. Not nearly. Which...stupid, because all he had to do was clench and he could squeeze the thing until it looked like it'd been run over by a truck. A few times and then some. And in some dark corner of Gotham, Bruce would say "Ow!" and have no idea why. Clark chuckled and relaxed, let his hips rise off the sheets.
She let out a low whistle. "You have got the best ass," she said. "All those years I spent somehow not molesting you..."
He felt small kisses and hands roam over his back and down, down towards his cleft and small but strong hands spreading him, and a tongue...
"Oh God," he said, as that tongue swirled and teased, then broadened, licking up and down. Licking, licking and then in.
"Good?" she said.
The pillow answered for him as it nodded up and down with an accompanying "mmm".
In and tongue and wet, so wet, and his hand reached back. And stopped just short. He didn't know if he was supposed to.
"You can touch yourself, Clark," she said, amused and breathy. "I think I need both hands for this."
So he touched, just lightly, drawing it out.
"Magic finger time!" she said, and he heard the drawer open and close again. Squishy sounds, good sounds, one slick finger breaching.
"There!" he said, as that finger found that spot, curling into it and stroking. He stroked in time with it, but then let his hand fall away, the ache too close and sudden. "There..." he said, this time a sigh, drawn out by two fingers.
Lois chuckled, made little nips and bites on an ass cheek, stroked harder and three fingers now, stretching. And he wiggled, hips moving into it, helping. "You know," she said, almost conversational, "Some would call this fucking."
"Maybe...maybe they could," he said, face now completely in the pillow and thank God he didn't need to do silly things like actually breathe. "I think it is."
"Is what, Clark?" she said, fingers turning and knuckle deep. "Say it."
And okay, just them, this room. She'd pulled those words out of him so long ago. "Fucking," he said. "It's fucking."
She groaned against his ass, fingers slowing. "Every time you say that..."
"Fucking," he said again, rewarded by another delicious groan. "Just...fuck me, please, Lois, please."
"Clark...I have to..." And more squishy sounds and the fingers were gone, slowly, so slowly, replaced by something impossibly big and deep. "Are...are you okay?" she said, stilling. "It...I'm sorry, it just went all the way in. I didn't think..."
But right now, Clark wasn't much with the thinking either. He just moved, trying to get it to move, inside. He felt the little bat studs, cool, against his ass, and moved. Little bats. Oh my God. But he couldn't stop moving, adjusting, until that spot rang out with little yeses.
"Hey," Lois said, relief and awe and love, always love, "Who's fucking who here, big guy? Slow down!" So she gripped his hips and set her own pace, hard and almost as fast as his. "You like it?" she said, "You like being fucked? My cock in your ass?"
"Yeah," he breathed, and yes, so necessary, his body tensing and opening at the same time. "Yeah." Deep and deeper into places unopened that he never even knew that he had.
"Say my name," she said. "Say it." Her breath quickening, thrusts even harder. He didn't get a good enough look at the thing, too embarrassed, this now wonderful thing, before, but it must have something on the inside to get her off too. To get her off. Make her come. Oh God. And his hand made a fist again and he fucked into it, yes, as she was fucking him.
"Lois," he said, a whine, but who cares? "Lois."
"Try again," she said, voice low and...masculine.
What? He paused, breathed into his elbow. She couldn't mean...no. Black leather and little bats. No, she didn't mean... Deep shit. Deep shit, if he was wrong. But so good, so... "B...Bruce?" he said, ready to scramble away and apologize. Just... And he was still fucking his fist, and oh God, the shame...
"Say it again," she said, thrusting, growling...like he would if... "Say it like you mean it."
"Bruce!" he said, thrusting back. His hand moving and squeezing and so full, so full. Her hands and his voice. This room and the sordidness of Gotham. Her books on the nightstand and the soft lights in a cave. Gauntlets on his shoulders and a cape, dark, wrapped around his body and her and deep and dark and desires that he didn't even know he had...streetlights and lamplight and...
"Say it!" s(he) said.
"Bruce, oh God, Bruce..." And no room for shame, too full and rising, rising... "Bruce!" Stars in the night, in his eyes, the flash of white and his spine curled and he came all over his hand, on the bed.
"Jesus, Clark..." She didn't let him go, one thrust, two, and he could feel it, her coming against him, her heartbeat fluttering to his back as they both collapsed.
"Great," he said, after a boneless minute, "I get the wet spot."
She ruffled his hair, pulled out. And that's a concept that his afterglow brain hadn't quite grasped yet. She pulled out. Of him.
"We are so doing that again," she said, a laugh, a good laugh.
"Now?!?" He didn't think he was capable of even moving for say, five minutes.
She punched his arm, playfully. "Sometime in the distant future," she said. "Like tomorrow or maybe I could pencil you in for Saturday."
"Who's the goof?" he said, as he rolled over and kissed her.
"That's your job title," she said. "Me, I'm just witty, fun-loving and desirable."
"All true," he said. "I do love a confident woman."
She raised her eyebrow, smirked. "Because you have so many."
"No," he said. "I only have you. And that's plenty for a lifetime." He meant it, only her. And maybe they should talk about this. "Lois, what we just did, you don't think..."
"No, I don't," she said, good sex hair falling around her face. He brushed a strand of it back. "This was just for fun. Just for us."
He grinned. "Just checking. You know, the next time I see him, I'm probably going to laugh and run away. Which, um, he thinks I'm weird anyway so maybe it won't be different."
She rolled into him. "Oh Clark..." And she poked him with her bat-thing. They both laughed. "Time for this to say bye-bye," she said, unstrapping.
It fell to the floor with a thump.
"Shower?" he said. "My last one kind of expired."
Lois yawned. "Morning," she said. "Like you said, you get the wet spot." She curled into him, head on his shoulder. "Night, champ."
"Goodnight, Lois," he said, reaching over and getting the light.
Title: Say It Like You Mean It
Author: Romany
Fandom: DCU
Pairing: Clark/Lois, Clark/Bruce implied
Rating: Adult, NC-17
Length: 2661 words
Spoilers: no specific spoilers (somewhere post Wedding Album), no specific continuity either
Warnings: het, rimming, pegging, slash role-play
Disclaimer: Not mine, seriously. All belongs to DC Comics.
A/N: No specific references to Smallville, but those characters would fit here too.
Summary: Clark's been away saving the world again. He comes home.
Clark stepped out of the bathroom, toweling his hair. "So," he said, "should we call it a night or..." He grinned, looking at Lois leaning up against the headboard and slowly opening the buttons on her nightshirt. "I could be up for this," he said as he tossed his towel to the floor.
"Actually, I thought I'd get a bit of light reading in," she said, the shirt now completely open and falling off her shoulders. "Naked reading. It's a thing."
"Hmm, is it?" Clark slid next to her, ran two fingers up her calf. "Can I watch?"
"Maybe I'll let you turn the pages."
"I might have a hard time reaching them from here," he said, suddenly at the foot of the bed, mouth on the arch of her foot. Okay, so he cheated just a bit with that one, but he planned on working his way back up very slowly. "You, Mrs. Kent, have an incredibly well-turned ankle." This came out a bit mumbled, his tongue busy.
She leaned up and forward, grabbing his hair. "Clark, you goof, get up here."
"But...feet!" he said, only mild protest as he rose with her hand, arching on top of her. He kissed her, arms braced to the side. "Like this?" he said. "I thought we already got our quickie in."
And her hand, releasing his hair, touched the side of his face. "You've been gone a while," she said.
"I know," he said, kissing her again in apology. Three weeks, deep space mission with part of the League. "I missed you."
"Did you...?" and one hand, now a fist, moved up and down.
He had to laugh at that one. Not that he was above doing...that. He couldn't count the number of times when this bed had been empty, Lois herself on assignment, when he'd thought of her, hand curled around himself. "No," he said. "I had to bunk with Bruce. The man never sleeps."
"So he couldn't go for a walk or something?"
Clark rolled to the side, mouthed her shoulder as she rose on one elbow. "What was I supposed to do? Say, 'Hey, could you give me five minutes so I can jerk off?' I'd just get a lecture about discipline and focus. All in five words or less."
"So why bunk at all? Why bunk with you?" she said.
He laughed again. "I have no idea. He says I snore."
She giggled. "You do." But then she sighed. "Sometimes I just don't get you two."
"I don't know if anyone gets him. He's...just who he is, I guess." He turned further into her, murmured against her collarbone, "Can we not talk about Bruce right now? I'd rather talk about the self-pleasuring adventures of Lois Lane. So did you...?" And his hand traced her thigh.
"Every goddamned night, Kent," she whispered against his jaw. "A girl's got to do something."
"Toy box?" he said, raising an eyebrow and grinning.
"You know it," she said, voice low, a whisper in his ear.
He groaned and swelled at the thought of it, shivered slightly. "Keep talking like that, and we'll end up with another quickie."
"Nuh uh," she said, nibbling his ear. "I've got something else in mind. Did a little shopping today."
"Buy something...special?" His fingertips glanced off her thigh, traced the rough hair above, teased slightly.
"I did," she said, leaning away and opening a drawer. "Something new for the box." Her hand came back into view and held...something complicated. Black leather straps with silver studs, and a plastic, well, dick, that bounced slightly as her hand waved it in the air.
"What is that?" he said. Lois had quite a few vibrators, dildoes, in the box, but nothing quite like this...thing. And she looked very pleased with herself.
"It's the new Batman Deluxe 2000," she said. "Isn't it cute?"
Cute? It looked like a weapon. "People use that on themselves?" he said, just a little bit appalled.
"Oh, Smallville, you are the most adorable goof," she said, patting him on the head and leaning over for a quick kiss. "No, you use this on someone else. You wear it and..." she made a few hip thrusts.
Oh. Oh. "You want me to wear this and..." He took another look at it, peering. The studs were actually little silver bats. Oh God. It'd be funny if it weren't so weird. Plus the straps looked a little small. There was no way he could get that thing over his balls. Maybe it was supposed to squeeze or something. He really didn't know. "I don't think it will fit."
And Lois got this wicked, wicked gleam in her eye, the one she got when she straddled him and all he could do was hold on for dear life. "It will fit me just fine," she said while dangling the thing. Black leather and silver studs and big.
"Oh," he said, just a small sound.
"What's the matter, Clark? You don't want to give it up for me?" she said, on her knees now and crawling closer.
He leaned up against the headboard, eyes wide. "Um, can I just process for a second?" he said.
But she didn't pull back. She straddled him, rubbed against him. "Let me have your ass," she said, almost a croon, rough and needful. "I want to fuck your ass."
He put his hands on her shoulders, slowing her down. Looking up into her eyes, he said, "Fingers are one thing..."
"You love my magic fingers," she said, still grinding. And wet. God, she was wet. She was right, he loved her fingers reaching inside, her mouth swallowing his dick. And he was getting impossibly hard.
"You've had mine," she reminded him. "Fair's fair."
Yes, wonderful and intimate, dirty and just them, and so careful, always so careful. She came every time. He made sure of it, his hand wrapping around, her moaning into the pillow. But this...
"You're scared," she said, all shivery whisper. "God, Clark, that's such a turn-on."
There were plenty of ways that she scared him, most of them thrilling and good, her fire, her tenacity, the way she challenged him. But the other scary things...she could leave, she could die. And there had been a time when he thought he could never have this. How could he say no, to whatever she wanted?
"Okay," he said. "But didn't they have anything...simpler? I mean Batman?"
"Well, they had the Superman Deluxe too, but that would be just a little too weird, don't you think?"
"Seriously?" His dick. His. People were going around screwing each other with his dick. And Bruce's apparently. Which Lois had dangling from straps in her hand. Bruce's...which she wanted to put in his ass. He put his hands over his face, rubbed his eyes. Perspective ran away from him, laughing, around the corner of sanity.
"There are blow-up dolls too," she said. And he didn't have to look to hear the smirk on her face.
"I so don't need to know this," he groaned. He let one of his hands fall away from his eyes, reached out. "Can...can I see it?"
"Sure thing," she said. "Here you go."
He took it, turned it over. And he touched...it. That it. And it was firm but kind of squishy, flesh-like but not.
"Do that again," she said. "Touch it."
So he did, just kind of ran his hand up and down. He shivered. "Maybe if you put it on," he said.
"Good boy." So he handed it back, watched as she worked the straps under and around, until it looked like the most decadent bikini bottom ever with a dick sticking straight out. "Touch it again," she said. "This time with your tongue."
He hesitated. A trickle of sweat ran down his back.
"Don't be scared, hon," she said, leaning in and giving him a soft, soothing kiss. "It's just us, okay? Just us."
He closed his eyes. Just them. He took a breath and leaned forward and down as she leaned back. And he found it. Opened his mouth and licked, pliant plastic and chemical and just strange.
"Suck it," she said. "Suck my cock."
So he opened his mouth further, took it in. On his hands and knees now, he opened his eyes, looked up.
"Your mouth, Clark, God, your mouth," she said. A flush spread from her face to her chest, and that, that sent shivers up his thighs to his groin. "Cocksucker," she said, moving slowly in and out until the tip brushed the back of his throat. And his mouth was open and he had no words, all words being pushed away. Just her words falling on him, on the sheets and blanket.
And after a brief time, she pulled out, away. "Turn over," she said. "Ass in the air, Kent."
He did. He turned, arms going under a pillow. One breath, then two. She wasn't...Sure he was hard, from watching her, how she wanted this, but he wasn't ready. Not nearly. Which...stupid, because all he had to do was clench and he could squeeze the thing until it looked like it'd been run over by a truck. A few times and then some. And in some dark corner of Gotham, Bruce would say "Ow!" and have no idea why. Clark chuckled and relaxed, let his hips rise off the sheets.
She let out a low whistle. "You have got the best ass," she said. "All those years I spent somehow not molesting you..."
He felt small kisses and hands roam over his back and down, down towards his cleft and small but strong hands spreading him, and a tongue...
"Oh God," he said, as that tongue swirled and teased, then broadened, licking up and down. Licking, licking and then in.
"Good?" she said.
The pillow answered for him as it nodded up and down with an accompanying "mmm".
In and tongue and wet, so wet, and his hand reached back. And stopped just short. He didn't know if he was supposed to.
"You can touch yourself, Clark," she said, amused and breathy. "I think I need both hands for this."
So he touched, just lightly, drawing it out.
"Magic finger time!" she said, and he heard the drawer open and close again. Squishy sounds, good sounds, one slick finger breaching.
"There!" he said, as that finger found that spot, curling into it and stroking. He stroked in time with it, but then let his hand fall away, the ache too close and sudden. "There..." he said, this time a sigh, drawn out by two fingers.
Lois chuckled, made little nips and bites on an ass cheek, stroked harder and three fingers now, stretching. And he wiggled, hips moving into it, helping. "You know," she said, almost conversational, "Some would call this fucking."
"Maybe...maybe they could," he said, face now completely in the pillow and thank God he didn't need to do silly things like actually breathe. "I think it is."
"Is what, Clark?" she said, fingers turning and knuckle deep. "Say it."
And okay, just them, this room. She'd pulled those words out of him so long ago. "Fucking," he said. "It's fucking."
She groaned against his ass, fingers slowing. "Every time you say that..."
"Fucking," he said again, rewarded by another delicious groan. "Just...fuck me, please, Lois, please."
"Clark...I have to..." And more squishy sounds and the fingers were gone, slowly, so slowly, replaced by something impossibly big and deep. "Are...are you okay?" she said, stilling. "It...I'm sorry, it just went all the way in. I didn't think..."
But right now, Clark wasn't much with the thinking either. He just moved, trying to get it to move, inside. He felt the little bat studs, cool, against his ass, and moved. Little bats. Oh my God. But he couldn't stop moving, adjusting, until that spot rang out with little yeses.
"Hey," Lois said, relief and awe and love, always love, "Who's fucking who here, big guy? Slow down!" So she gripped his hips and set her own pace, hard and almost as fast as his. "You like it?" she said, "You like being fucked? My cock in your ass?"
"Yeah," he breathed, and yes, so necessary, his body tensing and opening at the same time. "Yeah." Deep and deeper into places unopened that he never even knew that he had.
"Say my name," she said. "Say it." Her breath quickening, thrusts even harder. He didn't get a good enough look at the thing, too embarrassed, this now wonderful thing, before, but it must have something on the inside to get her off too. To get her off. Make her come. Oh God. And his hand made a fist again and he fucked into it, yes, as she was fucking him.
"Lois," he said, a whine, but who cares? "Lois."
"Try again," she said, voice low and...masculine.
What? He paused, breathed into his elbow. She couldn't mean...no. Black leather and little bats. No, she didn't mean... Deep shit. Deep shit, if he was wrong. But so good, so... "B...Bruce?" he said, ready to scramble away and apologize. Just... And he was still fucking his fist, and oh God, the shame...
"Say it again," she said, thrusting, growling...like he would if... "Say it like you mean it."
"Bruce!" he said, thrusting back. His hand moving and squeezing and so full, so full. Her hands and his voice. This room and the sordidness of Gotham. Her books on the nightstand and the soft lights in a cave. Gauntlets on his shoulders and a cape, dark, wrapped around his body and her and deep and dark and desires that he didn't even know he had...streetlights and lamplight and...
"Say it!" s(he) said.
"Bruce, oh God, Bruce..." And no room for shame, too full and rising, rising... "Bruce!" Stars in the night, in his eyes, the flash of white and his spine curled and he came all over his hand, on the bed.
"Jesus, Clark..." She didn't let him go, one thrust, two, and he could feel it, her coming against him, her heartbeat fluttering to his back as they both collapsed.
"Great," he said, after a boneless minute, "I get the wet spot."
She ruffled his hair, pulled out. And that's a concept that his afterglow brain hadn't quite grasped yet. She pulled out. Of him.
"We are so doing that again," she said, a laugh, a good laugh.
"Now?!?" He didn't think he was capable of even moving for say, five minutes.
She punched his arm, playfully. "Sometime in the distant future," she said. "Like tomorrow or maybe I could pencil you in for Saturday."
"Who's the goof?" he said, as he rolled over and kissed her.
"That's your job title," she said. "Me, I'm just witty, fun-loving and desirable."
"All true," he said. "I do love a confident woman."
She raised her eyebrow, smirked. "Because you have so many."
"No," he said. "I only have you. And that's plenty for a lifetime." He meant it, only her. And maybe they should talk about this. "Lois, what we just did, you don't think..."
"No, I don't," she said, good sex hair falling around her face. He brushed a strand of it back. "This was just for fun. Just for us."
He grinned. "Just checking. You know, the next time I see him, I'm probably going to laugh and run away. Which, um, he thinks I'm weird anyway so maybe it won't be different."
She rolled into him. "Oh Clark..." And she poked him with her bat-thing. They both laughed. "Time for this to say bye-bye," she said, unstrapping.
It fell to the floor with a thump.
"Shower?" he said. "My last one kind of expired."
Lois yawned. "Morning," she said. "Like you said, you get the wet spot." She curled into him, head on his shoulder. "Night, champ."
"Goodnight, Lois," he said, reaching over and getting the light.