Submitted: March, 2007
Summary: What if the almost-first-date had gone a little farther? What might have happened? Just a fun little what-if scenario, written in response to a fanfic challenge. Don't expect any real plot. This is totally b-fluff stuff here.
All characters and settings are the property of DC Comics, Warner Bros., and whoever else can legally lay claim to them. No copyright infringement is intended. This story was written purely for fun, not for profit, but the story is an original idea and belongs to me. A thank you to the writers of Lois & Clark, without them we wouldn't have this wonderful world to play in. Especially a thank you to the writers of "The Phoenix" from which I borrowed quite extensively for this story.
Of course a thank you to my always wonderful beta reader, Sue, who is always willing to read my endless spew of writing — what would I do without you? And a thank you to Little Tornado for issuing the challenge in the first place. Oh and I need to thank my GE's more often in this section too, so thank you, Darcy. <g>
Clark blew a burst of freezing breath against the bottle of champagne, cooling it to just the right temperature. He smiled to himself, satisfied with the results, and looked up towards the bedroom door Lois had gone through just moments before.
He was caught off guard when he realized that he could see her silhouette through the frosted glass of the door. He watched, frozen in place, as her hands came up to the buttons on her shirt and began to unfasten them.
Clark felt something inside him do a long, slow slide and a heat began to pulse deep inside him. He took in a shaky breath and tried to divert his attention back to the champagne bottle he was still holding, putting one hand around the neck of it to apply pressure to pop the cork. But even though he had averted his eyes, he could still see her clearly in his mind, and his acute hearing could still make out the whisper as her buttons were set free.
His breathing quickened, and before he realized what he was doing, he was watching her again. She had slipped out of her shirt and his eyes traced the distinct outline of her pert body. Only a door stood between him and the fantasies that had haunted him for nearly two years. Oh, god. The thought jolted through him and suddenly the cork from the champagne bottle was flying across the room at super speed.
Clark followed it with his eyes, hoping to stop it before it caused any damage. His eyes tracked it as it bounced a few times and then headed straight for him. He reached out and caught it in his hand, smirking just a little at the irony of the bottle popping its cork.
The bedroom door was opening and Clark's attention snapped back into focus. He turned away from Lois as she walked out of the bedroom and grabbed two glasses for their bubbly libation.
Clark poured her a glass as she walked up behind him. He turned and took in the sight of her in her cotton tank shirt and felt a weakness slide through him. It was obvious that she had removed her bra. The thought stole his breath. He could make out just a hint of detail through the shirt she was wearing and he realized that he needed to sit down.
"Here you go," he said, trying to keep his voice light as he began to head for the couch. Lois would be mortified if she knew what he was thinking.
"Oh, it's cold," Lois exclaimed in surprise as she took a sip of her champagne. "How did you get it cold so fast?"
"I… uh… umm…" Clark panicked. He needed a distraction. As she turned to grab a napkin from the counter, he lowered his glasses and shot a quick burst of heat vision at the nearest lamp. The light bulb inside burst from the extreme rise in temperature, dousing their only light and plunging the room into darkness. "Uh-oh…"
"There's another lamp next to the sofa," Lois said and Clark could hear her shuffling around to find it.
"I got it," he told her, still able to make out the other lamp through the darkness. He realized just a fraction of a second too late, though, that Lois hadn't given up her pursuit of the lamp either. She tripped and fell into him and Clark, fearing that Lois might hurt herself from the collision, gave way to the impact — falling onto the couch beside him.
What he hadn't expected was that her inertia would continue to carry her and she ended up on top of him on the couch. He closed his eyes for a second trying to push the thoughts from his mind that the weight of her body was conjuring up. He reached up behind him and felt for the light-switch on the lamp.
The room was suddenly illuminated again, and Clark swallowed when he realized it was even worse to actually see Lois lying there on top of him. Her chest was pressed against his and the way she was leaning up provided him an ample view of her cleavage. One of her legs had slid in between his and he was fairly certain she had a good idea of what their situation was doing to him. He cleared his throat nervously and she smiled timidly.
"Sorry," she whispered, and the huskiness in her voice caused Clark's body to hum. Sorry? What was she sorry for? Then he belatedly realized as her hand stroked across his chest that when they had fallen together she had spilled her champagne down the front of his shirt.
"It's okay," he said shakily, "I guess it's my turn to change." But he didn't want to. He didn't want to leave this spot — not for anything in the world.
Lois desperately wished she hadn't spilled her drink on him like that. She could have lain on him like this forever. It made it even harder when she realized how obvious it was that he felt the same way. The embarrassment of her position against him froze her in place and she was unable to move. Yet, she knew she probably should. This was Clark, her partner and her best friend. And this wasn't even a real date. It was only an "almost first date." They hadn't even had a real first date yet. She shouldn't be having these sorts of thoughts about him. What kind of a floozy was she? No, she needed to get up. Her thoughts were so hazy that she barely recognized her voice as she said, "I guess I'd better get up."
Please don't say yes, she begged him.
"Yeah, I guess so," he agreed hesitantly.
Please don't get up, he begged her.
She began to push away from him and her leg slid a little, taking an exact reading of just how turned on he really was. Oh, god. Her head began to swim and her arms suddenly turned to noodles. Even if she had still wanted to move away from him, she couldn't have. She no longer had the strength.
As Lois tried to get up from him, she lifted just enough that Clark had a full view straight down through her shirt. Heat flared inside him culminating in a deep throbbing. God, Clark, get a hold of yourself. He hadn't even had a first date with her yet. This was so inappropriate.
His breath caught in his chest as she lowered herself back down to lay against him. No, no Lois, don't do this. He couldn't… He shouldn't…
"I, uh, don't seem to, um, have the strength to move," she murmured quietly.
Clark swallowed. "Do you need help?"
"Yes." Lois blushed fiercely. How could she have said that?
How could she have said that? Clark wasn't sure if she had meant it the way he had taken it or not. Probably not. His mind had gone straight for the gutter. But at this point his cognitive, rational thought processes had all abandoned him.
And then he was kissing her.
He was kissing her. Oh god. His mouth was so moist and warm — so alive with hunger and need. They had kissed before, but never purposefully like this. Never with desire. It was amazing. She had known from the first time she had kissed him on the airplane right before Trask had thrown her out, that he was a good kisser. After he had kissed her in the honeymoon suite at the Lexor hotel her estimation of his kissing had improved vastly. He wasn't good, he was great.
And now — now she realized he wasn't just great. He was incredible. Mind-blowing. Who would have guessed that her partner, the sweet farm boy from Kansas, was such an expert kisser? His tongue flitted inside her mouth, but didn't linger or stay in one place for too long. It was as though he were making a thorough exploration of her and cataloguing her reactions for later. His lips were soft and smooth as he took careful, loving tastes of her lips and mouth.
She realized with a start what Clark was doing. He was making love to her. Maybe their bodies weren't joined at the waist, but their souls were joined at the mouth. And what he was doing couldn't be called anything other than making love to her.
The thought both thrilled her and frightened her at the same moment. Part of her wanted more — so much more. But part of her reeled in shock. What about Claude? Claude had said he loved her. He had kissed her, touched her, whispered words in her ear. And then he'd had sex with her. He had used her and abandoned her and she had sworn it would never happen again.
But… but this was different.
What Claude had done wasn't making love. He had kissed her fiercely, demandingly, not letting her enjoy the moment but instead taking as much from her as he could get. He had touched her, but harshly. His hands had groped and squeezed… he had ruthlessly taken what he wanted.
Not like Clark. Clark's hands and fingertips danced against the bare skin of her arms in loving touches, raising the hairs of her skin in delight. He moved one hand to the back of her head, gently encouraging her to allow him to deepen the kiss. His other hand slipped to her back, sliding just underneath the hem of her shirt, and caressed the small of her back lightly.
Oh god, definitely not Claude. This was Clark. He was her best friend. He had always loved her and protected her — he would never use her or abuse her. Clark cared more about her feelings than his own. He would never take what he wanted from her and throw her away. He wouldn't. And in that instant she realized something. This wasn't an almost first date…
She had been dating him all along.
Lois knew Clark in a way that she knew no other man. She knew all the superfluous things like what his favorite food was, who his favorite football team was, how he liked to unwind for the day… if he preferred paper to plastic at the grocery store. But besides those things, she knew *him*. She knew his values. Clark respected women, especially her. He didn't treat them like objects; instead, he treated them like equals.
And yet, beyond that, he was so attentive — especially to her. How many times had he pulled a chair out for her? Opened a door for her? Gave up his seat on the subway so that she wouldn't have to stand?
Lois knew him. She'd spent the last year and a half learning him. She had been dating him all along — only she hadn't realized it. This wasn't their first date. This was more like their first opportunity… their first prospect for something more.
Those thoughts comforted her and she finally gave herself over, relaxing completely, allowing herself to explore his mouth and his body in return. Her hands traced along the muscles in his chest as if she meant to memorize them in her mind.
Clark couldn't believe this was happening. Lois had not only allowed him to kiss her and touch her, but she was now kissing him and touching him in return. Her hands slid along the wet fabric of his champagne-soaked shirt. His stomach hollowed out and his breathing quickened when her fingers began undoing the buttons of his shirt. She was undressing him!
That one act would be enough to feed his dreams for the rest of his life.
She lifted her body from his enough to un-tuck his shirt before she finished unbuttoning it. She spread it open and leaned down to press her lips to the frantic beat of his heart. She kissed her way down his chest to his abdomen, pressing her lips in a feather light kiss that made his stomach tremble at her touch.
God he wanted her. He wanted her like he had never wanted any woman before. But even so, it couldn't be like this. Not with his secret hanging over them like a dark cloud. Lois didn't realize who she was making love to. If she knew it was Superman, she wouldn't be nearly this bold. Would she? He knew that part of her was in love with Superman, with the perfection he embodied, the powers he possessed. What would she do if Superman had come on to her like this?
Clark had always hoped if he gave Lois enough time… if he broke down her walls… if she really got to know him — Clark — that she would choose him over Superman. It had been his greatest hope.
But wasn't that what she was doing now? She had agreed to go out with him on a date. She had let him kiss her, hold her. She wasn't pulling away from him; instead, she was giving herself to him.
That had to mean that she wanted something more with him. That she was willing to be with him over Superman… to give up her fantasy.
Yes. She had chosen Clark over Superman. And that meant that he couldn't do this. Not like this. He had always promised himself that once he knew she loved him — Clark — not his powers and abilities but just the man, that he would come clean with her. He knew he could trust her with his secret and he knew now that he could trust her with his heart.
And that meant it was time to tell her.
"Lois," he said breathily.
"Mmm?" she murmured, sliding back up his body to capture his lips again. She sucked softly on his bottom lip as she slid one hand behind his head to deepen the kiss and ran her other hand down his body, clutching at him.
Clark sucked in a shaky breath as he broke the kiss. "Oh, Lois, please…"
Lois felt something she had rarely felt before with a man — a sense of empowerment. She was on top and she was in control. All the men in her life, what few there had been, had dominated her sexually, taken from her what they wanted and given her nothing in return.
Clark was making no attempt to takeover. He had relinquished control to her and was letting her make all the moves.
Did he really understand her that well? Her mind drifted back to a time that seemed so long ago now…
<I'm top banana and that's the way I like it… comprende?>
<You like to be on top. Got it.>
Lois blushed. Maybe he understood her better than she thought.
Or maybe… Could it be? Could he just be… inexperienced?
The thought caught her off guard. No. No, surely not. Clark was a traveled man. He was a man, period — not a boy. He had been around the world and he was good-looking and talented. There was no way he lacked experience. And yet… some small part of her wanted to think that.
So she let herself.
Clark couldn't think. His thoughts were being drowned out by what Lois was doing to him. What had he been about to tell her? No? He was going to tell her 'no'? Why?
Because he was Superman. Because he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he took advantage of her innocence about who he really was.
"Lois," he tried again. Lois, stop, his mind shouted at her, I'm Superman. She would hate him for hiding from her. She would be angry that he had let things go this far before she knew the truth. He had to stop this.
But the words wouldn't come — and she continued her exploration of his mouth and body.
NO! He couldn't do this. He had to stop this.
Yes! She couldn't believe this was happening.
She couldn't believe it and yet she was utterly disappointed when it came to an end. And it came to an end when Clark said the next six words, "Here, let me help you up."
Lois frowned and then abruptly felt like her world had been turned upside down when Clark somehow managed to shift beneath her, getting his arms around and underneath her at the same time and lifting her up off the couch as he stood up.
How had he done that? He was stronger than she had given him credit for.
He let her legs slip from his arms and he lowered her gently to the floor until her feet found their balance. "I really should get out of this wet shirt," he murmured softly.
She nodded at him, still unsure of what had gone wrong and what she should say. She had thought she was in control. She had thought she knew what he wanted, how he felt about her.
Lois sighed, suddenly feeling like she was back at square one as she watched him walk into the bedroom to change his shirt. She glanced over at the champagne bottle on the counter. Maybe he just needed a drink to loosen him up — maybe they both did.
Clark closed the door behind him. He started to move away from it when he realized something — turn-about was fair play — and he began to take off his clothes.
Lois was in the middle of pouring them both a glass of champagne when she caught sight of Clark's silhouette in the fogged glass of the bedroom door.
Oh, god. Had he been able to see her like that?
No, surely not. Clark wouldn't have watched her the way she was standing here now, gawking at him open-mouthed. Besides, if he had seen her like that, he wouldn't have stood in front of the glass where she could see him.
Lois marveled at how sexy and well-defined his body looked, even through the hazy, clouded glass. She could make out his pert pectoral muscles and the ripped definition of his abs. She was about to make something else out when she blushed and looked down, realizing that she had allowed the champagne she was pouring to overflow the glass.
She bent down and wiped at the spilled liquid with her shoe — as if that was going to do anything — like it was going to magically evaporate or something. She heard the door open and she looked up, flashing Clark a timid smile. He looked positively delicious in the soft t-shirt and sweats he had changed into. He had rolled the sleeves up, exposing the muscles of his arms.
How did he manage to hide all of that beneath his suits?
"What happened?" he asked, having a pretty good idea just what had happened.
"Huh? Oh, I, uh, just had a little muscle… uh mishap." She stood up and held his glass out to him. "So, to our…" What? Their first real kiss? Their first date? No, they had said it wasn't really a date. "…almost first date."
Clark took his glass from her and clinked it against hers. "I think you and I both know this was more than an *almost* first date."
Lois blushed prettily as she took a sip of champagne from her glass. "Yeah, I guess so."
Clark fidgeted. He had purposefully left his glasses off — he had left them back in the bedroom. He hadn't thought of a way to tell her yet and had been hoping she would see it on her own. Now it seemed like a really stupid idea.
Lois watched Clark carefully. His face looked worried, concerned, and there was something out of place. Something just wasn't quite right, but for the life of her, she couldn't figure out what it was.
"Lois, I want you to close your eyes," he said, using a voice nearly identical to the one he used as Superman.
She furrowed her brow at him. "Why?" She hesitated, there was something about his voice — it was lower than usual and it sent a shiver down her spine.
"Do you trust me?"
"Then close your eyes."
It was a command, and Lois couldn't seem to fight it. She closed her eyes and she felt him step closer. He took her in his arms and kissed her gently. He moved his mouth close to her ear and whispered, "I want you to open your eyes and really see me." He kissed her cheek softly and moved away from her.
Lois was afraid to open her eyes. What did he mean? Really see him? She didn't understand… She opened her eyes very slowly, first one eye and then the other, and took him in — all of him. His well sculptured physique. The way his deep brown eyes seemed to be peering inside her soul.
Without any glasses to hide behind.
She blinked. Clark wasn't wearing his glasses. Something about him seemed strangely familiar like this. And as she watched him, he seemed to undergo a transition. He straightened up, his body seeming somehow taller all of the sudden, even though Clark never slouched. His stance took on a more rigid formality to it, and his arms came up to cross in front of him.
She smiled wistfully as she realized that if you put a spandex suit on him, he could do a great imitation of…
Clark watched as recognition dawned on her features. His first thought was 'what have I done'?
And then another thought came to him.
How was he ever going to top this almost first date?