Rubber Duckie

By Debra Manning (

Summary: Just weeks before their wedding, Lois and Clark struggle with erotic tension, trying to keep their promise to wait until their wedding night.

For Sarah Wood, who understands about the towel … ~~This takes place before the wedding, while they're still engaged and frustrated … ~~

By Debra Manning (IRC: DebWrites)


"Here you are. I wondered where you went."

Lois shivered, more in response to the low timbre of Clark's voice than from the cool night breeze that stirred her hair. She felt his presence behind her, heard the quiet tap of his shoes as he stepped out on to the balcony of his apartment, where she stood. Before them, the lights of Metropolis glittered like a collection of jewels strewn across a cloak of black velvet. The moon hung full and white, a pearl in the dark sky.

"The game over?" she asked..

"Yeah. The Bills won." He stepped behind her and slid his hands up and down her bare arms. "You cold?"

Lois trembled at his touch and reminded herself that they had decided to wait until their wedding night to make love for the first time. Still, his nearness tempted her to forget their agreement. It was getting harder to wait, dangerously so. There were times when she wanted to throw him down, Superman or not, and just have her way with him.

The mental image left her breathless. She had never been so attracted to a man in her life.

"Stop. Please." She placed her hands over his to cease their seductive movements.

"All right." He sounded puzzled, but he rested his palms on her shoulders. His fingers just touched the pulse points of her neck.

"So the Bills won? That's great." She guided the conversation to small talk, buying time to convince herself that she should *not* turn in his arms and kiss him. If she did, all her resolve would dissolve like smoke.

"Yeah, great. Lois, are you okay?" She felt the vibration of his voice rumbling up from his chest against her back. God, how she longed to turn and melt into his arms. His cologne smelled of tangy citrus. She wanted to string kisses down the column of his strong throat until she found where he had splashed it on that evening. Then she would lick it off him drop by drop. But she didn't trust herself to stop with just kisses.

"Look at me." His breath brushed the sensitive flesh of her ear as he murmured the words. The shiver started at her lobes and swept over her body, bringing every nerve to attention.

"No." She tightened her grip on his hands.

"Lois … " The syllables of her name sounded like an exotic delicacy as they rolled off his tongue. She bit back a soft moan. He paused, and she wondered if his ultra sensitive hearing had picked up the sound. She had her answer when he said her name again, pressing his lips against her throat. Her back arched, and she let her head fall to the side. He grazed her neck with his teeth and whispered her name once more.

"Stop." Her firm command dissolved into a soft sigh as he sucked lightly at her flesh. He turned his hands to clasp hers and slid their entwined fingers down her body, over her breasts to rest on her belly. "Clark, we shouldn't do this."

"I know." He pressed his hips against her, letting her feel how much she excited him. His muscled arms surrounded her, entrapping her in a cage of sensual pleasure. "It's just so hard to not to touch you."

"We agreed … " She moaned softly as he slowly traced the shell of her ear with his tongue.

"I know." He shuddered, and she thrilled at the blatant proof of his arousal. "I know … "

"This is so hard." Her whisper disappeared on the night breeze. "How long until the wedding?"

"Three weeks."

"Three weeks," she echoed. "It seems like an eternity."

"Tell me about it." He moved their clasped hands upward, brushing her own knuckles against her breasts. "Do you like that?"

"Yes." With the admission came a glorious sense of freedom. She wanted him with a passion she had never thought to feel. He guided her hands up around his neck, the motion pressing her bottom into his erection. Trailing his fingers down the vulnerable undersides of her arms, he cupped her breasts in his palms.

"This is so erotic." Her broken whisper left off in a soft cry as he turned his head and nipped the sensitive skin of her inner arm. He stroked her breasts with loving hands that brought her nipples full and pouting to greet his touch. Wild emotions swept through her that she had never felt before in her life.

"It's so hard to wait." His breath came in soft pants, luring her with the promise of delights to come. "I want to make love with you *now*."

"Me, too." With a sound of supplication, she turned in his arms.

He scooped her into his embrace and pulled her flush against his body. The moonlight gilded his black hair like a nimbus, but his dark eyes held a potent hunger that he dared her to share. He looked at her face for a long moment. Then he cradled her cheek in one hand and guided her mouth to his.

He tasted like wine sipped slowly before a roaring fire. Coaxing her lips apart, he swept his tongue inside her mouth, as if he would experience every essence of her. The hand on her cheek slid down to splay over her throat, his kiss seducing her into vulnerability.

She lost herself in mind-numbing pleasure.

The phone rang. They jerked apart and stared at each other, mouths damp, breathing hard.

"I should … get that," Clark said.

"Good idea." A moment of silence stretched between them. Clark's gaze dropped to her lips and held. Just when Lois thought one of them would go mad, he jerked his head in a nod and shot inside at super speed to pick up the phone before the caller hung up. Remaining on the balcony, Lois watched his stiff back, feeling every bit as frustrated as he was. She longed to give in to the addictive sexual attraction between them. But they had agreed to wait.

Clark hung up the phone and turned to look at her. Tension sizzled across the distance separating them. Another minute and they would be all over each other, she thought with a little thrill. Agreement or not.

"I have to go." She stepped through the window. Clark came over and held out a hand to help her down. As their fingers locked, heat simmered between them. Lois hopped from the windowsill. Still their hands clung , neither wanting to break the contact.

Lois felt her lower body clench at the naked desire on his face. He looked fabulous in the black tee shirt that stretched taut over his powerful shoulders and chest, the faded jeans that molded his thighs. She only had to take a step toward him, to slide her hands under his shirt …

"I have to go." The words held a tremor she didn't bother to disguise.

"Okay." The husky note in his voice echoed her own need.

"Good night." She edged toward the door.

"Let me at least see you out." He walked just behind her, then reached around her to open the door.

She turned to face him. "Good night, Clark. See you tomorrow?"

"Yeah." He lifted her hand and pressed a kiss into her palm, then closed her fingers into a fist. "Take this with you."

"Oh, Clark." Tears stung her eyes. She clutched her fist to her chest. "I love you."

"I love *you*."

The tenderness in his beautiful smile almost had her busting down the door to get to him. She backed out the doorway before she could act out her fantasies. "Gotta go. Bye."


She could feel his eyes on her as she hurried out to her jeep.


Clark waited until Lois's jeep had reached the end of the block before he shut the door and leaned back against it. His heart pounded, and his hands trembled. He had never felt such fierce emotions before.

God, he needed Lois. Three weeks *did* sound like an eternity.

His senses indicated that it was a quiet night. No cries for help distracted him from the gut-wrenching hunger that churned up his insides. At least work as Superman would have taken his mind off his aroused body for a little while.

He pushed away from the door and rubbed the back of his neck. There seemed to be only one way to regain control. He would do what other men did when faced with the same situation.

He would take a cold shower. A very long, cold shower.


Lois got halfway home before she realized that she had left her purse at Clark's. She wouldn't even have worried about it, except for the fact that the bag held a very important computer disk she had brought home. She needed that disk, desperately needed it so she could submerge herself in work and take her mind off her sexual frustration.

With a muttered imprecation, she made a U-turn and headed back to Clark's apartment.


"Clark?" Having received no answer to her knock, Lois used her key to get into Clark's apartment. All was quiet. Clark was probably out flying over the city somewhere. She released a little sigh. Her control tonight was tenuous. She hadn't relished the thought of saying good-night … again. She didn't think she could leave a second time.

She spotted her purse lying on the coffee table. "There you are," she muttered. Scooping up the bag, she turned back toward the door. "Lois Lane, you are *not* going to make it to three weeks. He's lucky he wasn't here. You probably would have ravished him."

She had her hand on the doorknob when he said her name. "Lois?"

She spun to face him, clasping her purse to her chest, expecting to see a familiar blue and red figure. "Omigod."

Clark. In a towel. And nothing else. Deja vu.

She knew he had a great body. How many times had she seen him in close-fitting blue tights? She had even seen his bare chest a time or two. But not like this. *Nothing* like this.

Apparently he had been in the shower. His hair was wet, finger-combed back from his face, though one or two strands fell over his forehead. Beads of moisture clung to the sculpted muscles of his powerful shoulders and chest. As she watched, one lone drop of water dripped from his hair. It slid in a winding path down his collarbone, over his pectorals, skimming his nipple, then racing down what had to be the original definition of a washboard stomach to disappear into the towel knotted at his lean waist. A towel that clasped his thighs like a second skin and ended just above his bare knees and muscled calves.

Her willpower took a nose-dive to zero.

He gave her a look. "Lois? Are you okay?"

"Sure. Fine. Just dandy." She gave him a big smile and held up her bag, trying to ignore the fact that he stood there naked except for one small scrap of white terry cloth. "I … uh … left my purse."

"I could have brought it over to you. You know … " He gave her the hand signal that they used to indicate flying. "Why didn't you call?"

"I didn't even get home. Just turned right around and came back." Another drop of water started the journey of the first. Clark raised a hand and swept it over his damp hair. His muscles bunched and settled. Lois bit her lip. Hard. "I should be going."

"Okay. Let me change, and I'll come with you."

"No!" At her urgent protest, he paused in the act of turning away. "I mean, it's okay. I brought my car."

He looked at her the way someone would contemplate a puzzling work of art. Finally he smiled, very slowly. "Well, at least let me walk you to the door."

"Always a gentleman," she babbled as he came up the steps to where she stood. He neared her, smelling of soap and shampoo, so close she could feel the warmth of his body. "Even in a towel."

"Does this bother you?" He gave her the look of polite inquiry she had seen him use on interviews.

"No, it doesn't bother me."


"Yes, yes, it does. Oh God, I have to do this." With her fingertip she flicked another runaway drop of water from his collarbone. She meant to leave it at that, but her fingers continued to glide, stroking downward over the firm muscles of his impressive chest. He placed his hand over hers. Realizing what she was doing, she snatched her hand back. "This is so frustrating!"

"I'll get dressed." The understanding in his face fired her determination.

"No, it's okay. Just three more weeks, right?"

"Right." He smiled.

Not the smile, thought Lois. He has no idea what that smile does to me … "We can handle this. We agreed to wait." She took a deep breath, let it out. Then found herself reaching for him again. She snatched her hand back and clutched her purse tightly with all ten fingers. "I can't believe I never saw past the glasses," she muttered.

"Lois, this isn't easy for me either." He cupped her cheek. "I've waited so long, and I want you so much … "

"Me, too," she said in a soft, surrendering voice.

" … But I want it to be right for us."

"It'll be perfect." She sighed. "In three weeks. Oh, Clark."

He chuckled. "Lois, I don't think I've ever seen you like this. Not even around Superman. And c'mon, the suit *is* pretty … tight."

"I know, I know. But when you're wearing it, when you're Superman … I don't know. It's just different, I guess." She paused, then gestured at his nearly naked body. "You are just so … so … Clark, that towel could slip at any minute."

"It could." His amusement was evident.

"So you think this is funny?" Lois poked him in the chest. "How would you feel if I paraded around you half naked?"

Clark gave her a look so hot, she almost melted out of her clothing. "Want to try it?"

"That's not fair. I … you … oh, forget it." She spun on her heel and reached for the door.

"Lois." Clark stopped her with a hand on her arm. "I'm sorry for teasing you. *I'm* pretty frustrated, too."

"Of course you are." She combed her fingers through her hair. "I'm sorry. I'm going home now. See you tomorrow?"

"Yeah." He lifted her chin with one finger and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. "Good night, Lois."

"Good night." Since his mouth hovered so close to hers, she stood on tiptoe and returned his soft kiss with a feather-light one of her own. She gripped his shoulders for balance, as she had a hundred times before. But before, he hadn't been nearly naked …

In a heartbeat, the kiss turned from a gentle good- night caress into a volcano of seething emotions.

Clark pulled her close in the same instant she squeezed his smooth, bare skin beneath her hands. Their mouths came together, open, hot and wet. Tongues stroked, hands clutched, bodies strained. Lois felt his palms cup her bottom, and she tangled her fingers into his hair. After a few moments, she broke the kiss, gasping for air. He watched her, dark eyes smoldering with unleashed passion kept too long captive. She swallowed and searched for a way to diffuse the situation.

"So … is that your rubber duckie," she said huskily, "or are you just happy to see me?"

He blinked. The fierce expression left his eyes, leaving behind the Clark she knew. He gave her a lopsided smile. "Guess."

"I think I'll leave that one alone." With a laugh, she pulled out of his embrace. She picked up her purse, which had fallen to the floor in the midst of passion, and edged toward the door. "Good night."

He stood with his hands on his hips, his chest rising and falling with accelerated breathing. "Good night, Lois."

She stepped outside and closed the door behind her. He used his acute hearing to listen to her footsteps on the sidewalk. He heard the muffled slam of the jeep door and the jingle of keys before the engine roared to life. The vehicle sped off down the block.

Clark raked his hands through his still damp hair and looked down at his towel.

Time for another cold shower.


Three weeks later …

Clark rolled over in bed, one hand instinctively seeking his wife. When he encountered nothing but cool sheets, he opened his eyes.

Lois's side of the bed was empty. He didn't exactly panic, but his new bride had a habit of getting into trouble at the drop of a hat. What was to stop her from doing so on their honeymoon? Extending his senses, he picked up a sound from the bathroom. It was Lois, humming. With a contented smile, he settled back into the pillows.

He watched the patterns of the Hawaiian sun chase across the ceiling and savored the satisfaction of knowing that finally, Lois was his wife. The wedding yesterday had gone off without a hitch. His mother had cried. His father had cried too, but pretended not to. Even Lois had cried as she spoke her vows. They had danced the evening away at their reception, then left late that night to fly, compliments of Superman, to Hawaii for their honeymoon.

And last night, their long wait had ended. They had made love for hours, each shattering climax more devastating than the last. Clark stretched his arms above his head, feeling lazy and sated. He was a happy man. All he needed now was his wife …

"Clark?" He turned his head, starting to smile, a greeting on his lips. The smile stopped halfway. The greeting remained unsaid.

Lois lounged—there was no other word for it—in the doorway of the bathroom. She wore a towel. And nothing else.

His gaze traveled over her tousled hair and delicate shoulders to rest, finally, where she held the ends of the towel between her breasts. With that sweet little half smile he knew so well, she held up a bar of soap. "I'm going to take a bath in that swimming pool they call a tub. I thought you might want to come." She shifted, and so did the towel, loosening around her breasts and exposing another inch or so of slender, naked thigh.

Clark slid from the bed, his nude body betraying his feelings quite blatantly.

With a look of approval, Lois let go of the towel. It dropped to the floor. "Bring your rubber duckie," she called, sauntering into the bathroom.

Clark followed. The speed of his passing slammed the bathroom door behind him.