sarcastic_fina's Seven Sinful Ships - M15 - Lois/Clark
Title: Seven Sins
Series: sarcastic_fina's Seven Sinful Ships
Category: Smallville
Word Count: 1,388
Ship: Clark/Lois
Sin: Lust
Summary: There was something appealing about him; and it wasn't the plaid...
Lust -Clark/Lois
There was something appealing about him; and it wasn't the plaid.
Sure, he had that homely, farmboy sweetness to him that seemed engraved in his very skin. But there was something else. A raw, honest and true passion that she couldn't help but feed off of when he was near. She told herself it was just a lack of men in her life. She'd put more interest in her job than she had anything else lately and he was really the only one she spent any time with. But she couldn't delude herself forever.
Clark Kent was downright sexy.
The words tasted funny in her mouth at first. She took a sip of lukewarm coffee as if to wash them away and convince herself otherwise. But the truth was right there in black and white and she couldn't go on pretending she didn't notice. At first, she thought it would pass. She brushed it off, ignored it whenever her stomach tightened or her heart leapt just at the sound of his laugh. She chose to blame it instead on the large portions of coffee she'd been inhaling lately and absolutely nothing to do with his incredible eyes or his mouthwatering physique or the warmth that came from his large grin. In no way was she affected by the bracing feel of his hand on her shoulder or the intimacy whenever he looked at her as if he could see through every shield down to the deepest detail of her soul.
Love was a bitch.
She hated it. Wished she could kick its ass and tell it just what was what. That toying with her this way was just plain cruel and having no way to get rid of it was even worse. She couldn't pretend any longer and as much as she tried to act as though it didn't affect her, it did. He had to notice the way she sometimes stumbled over her words or how her breath caught when he touched the small of her back to guide her. She shook it off every time, gave him a mean glare and a pompous smirk before telling him off. But the humor in his eyes never dulled and he was always there when she really needed him. He wasn't as easily gotten rid of as some other men.
Sex would solve everything.
She somehow convinced herself that having him just once would make everything go away; the feelings, the tightness, the faltering smiles and the lingering eyes. So she plucked up her courage, imbibed too much alcohol and danced around her apartment until she was flushed, Whitesnake playing loudly in her ears. And finally, wearing her best red lingerie beneath a seemingly simple blouse and skirt, she made her way over to the Kent farm and found him sitting in his barn, going over an article due in the morning.
She couldn't remember a word she said.
She was sure she babbled a bit and he might've smiled at her in that way he does when he thinks she's being adorably dimwitted. But that smile was gone just as quick as her blouse was. And she was almost angry with herself when a blush stained her cheeks.
"Just go with it, Smallville," she told him and he looked confused and uncertain, but he didn't stop her hands when she tugged his shirt off over his head. He didn't push her away when her lips met his chest or her skirt was shed. He leaned into it, let out a shaky breath and met her lips, his tongue taking control of hers. And she whimpered in the back of her throat, sighing through her nose and burying her fingers in his hair, keeping him close, trying to tell herself it was real and not some made up fantasy that had her sweaty beneath her sheets, her fingers fiddling down south.
He was mind-blowing.
She was half-certain that he'd be good, if not a little underdeveloped in his knowledge of what to do with a woman. She expected his large hands to fumble with her bra, pause as he stroked her skin, maybe even just to sit still, too nervous to move. But he touched her everywhere; he stroked and caressed and plunged his fingers deep inside of her as the other massaged her breast. His mouth was hot against her skin, following the path his fingers had left behind, making her skin burn with kisses and licks and little nibbles around sensitive flesh.
He took her right there on the couch.
Her legs straddled him, her head fell back, long hair brushing his knees as she sat atop him, riding him into oblivion. He held her up when each incredible wave of ecstasy took hold. It seemed like ages; like she spent an eternity sitting there, taking him inside of her so deep, it was a wonder he found his way out. When she was sure it would end, it started all over again. She felt on the brink of insanity. She'd had passionate lovers before; it was at the top of her list for any guy looking to be with her. But Clark Kent topped them all.
She couldn't stop quivering.
There were tears lodged behind her eyes but she clenched her lids tight to keep them back. It wasn't that she was sad; in fact, she felt more elated than she ever had before. Her insides couldn't stop shaking; her outsides felt like an earthquake had taken hold. It felt good; incredible, really. Had somebody asked her to write a story on it, there'd be no words to explain it. It was beyond description.
She felt loved.
He held her afterwards, when she was sure the sun was coming up, which seemed impossible since it was the dead of night when she'd arrived. Her chin was perched on his shoulder and her body was slack against his. She swore she could feel his heart hammering out of his chest and into hers. Her skin was damp from head to toe; her hair plastered to her back. The only part of her still functioning was her fingers; which moved of their own volition, stroking his neck and his hair. His arms encircled her waist; hands against the small of her back, fingers running a few inches up and down her spine.
He didn't say anything.
He didn't blurt out what a bad idea it was, which she'd been expecting. Didn't voice declarations of love, which she'd been fearing. He just held her until she fell asleep, right there against him. And when she woke up, she was at home. Her car was parked outside, her clothes were on, and she was lying beneath her blanket as if the night before had never happened. But she knew it had; could still feel an ache like no other between her thighs. And while he might've been gentlemanly enough to try and get her home in one piece, maybe even hoping she might not believe it happened, he had left his mark behind. There was a hicky on her shoulder that hadn't been there before; one she remembered came from him just as he'd finally succumbed to his own intensity. Oddly, she swore it was shaped like an S.
They pretended it never happened.
They never spoke of it and she continued to treat him just as she had before. But as good as she'd always been at hiding her emotions she couldn't lie and say anything had changed for the better. Instead, her lust was even worse. And while she knew there was always another man out there willing to satisfy her, none would match up. Much as it pissed her off to even think, Clark Kent might actually be the only man alive who could truly fulfill her every need.
She wouldn't kick her pride down any further.
So she went on with what she had; unwilling to show that kind of vulnerability again by showing up in his barn. If he wanted her even half as much as she wanted him, hopefully he'd be the one appearing at her place. For now, Lois Lane would have to be in eternal lust with one Clark Kent. If life was at all kind, her libido would stop kicking in.
[ Next: Lust - Chloe/Oliver.]