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Lois knows herself to be bossy.
She’s heard it before, both in her professional and private life, and she has learned to live with it. She doesn’t mind being seen as a bitch at work, and she takes care of the situation if it becomes something that transpires into her personal relationships. She doesn’t care about hurting people’s feelings if she’s exposing them, and she certainly doesn’t pursue relationships with people who do not get the way she works nor understand her.
Clark is different from the start.
He knows Lois inside and out before he even asks her out, and he certainly does not shy away from any sides of her personality. She warns him the first time he asks her on a date that she is not good at relationships, but it does not prevent her from pursuing it all the more. She lets herself be taken to a date, then several, and watches with well-conceived surprise how well Clark takes it when she has to late cancel for a case.
She learns a lot about him in the first couple of weeks they start dating. First, and foremost, that he’s Superman. She hates to think that it explains a lot about who he is and why he behaves the way he does—but if it takes her boyfriend being an alien for her to be understood entirely, then so be it. Clark likes her bossy, he told her before; and she’s starting to think he means it, too.
So this is why she shouldn’t be surprised when he asks a seemingly innocent question the first time they have sex, and completely freezes Lois in her tracks.
“Could you repeat that for me?” she asks Clark, her hand wrapped around the back of his neck and her legs circling his hips where he’s got her pinned to the couch, lips bruised with her kisses and his hair a mess.
Unbashful and completely oblivious to the shock running through her, Clark does.
“Can you talk me through it?” he asks again, his face so pure and open. “I want to make this good for you.”
“You want me to talk you through sex?”
“I want you to talk me through sex with you. I’ve never done this before, so I want to make this good for you.”
In any other circumstances, Lois would have felt the weight of it fall down on her shoulders. But it’s Clark, and somehow, it all makes such perfect sense that she cannot help but take a shaky breath.
“When you say you’ve never done this before…”
Clark’s cheeks turn a soft shade of pink. “I mean sex, yes.” And because he’s too pure for this world, apparently, he follows it with, “Is that a problem?”
“What? Of course not.”
She pushes him off her gently, and he follows the movement diligently.
They’ve made out before, in the past two weeks of this tentative yet wonderful thing happening between them. Lois has been turned on more than she could have ever imagined being turned on by make out sessions all over her place, but Clark has never once before attempted to go any further. Now, she knows why.
“We don’t have to do anything,” Clark says, because she’s been deep in thoughts for a few seconds. “I got ahead of myself.”
“Clark. Trust me when I say, you’ve not gotten ahead of yourself.”
The truth is, she wants him. She wants him badly, more than she’s ever wanted anyone in a long time—possibly ever. The idea of having sex with him is as exciting as it is terrifying, in a way. She has never been anyone’s first, and Lois doesn’t know how to be.
“You’ve truly never had sex before?” she asks again, just to make sure.
He shrugs, like it’s not a big deal. “I never wanted it badly enough to wonder about the limits of my own body,” he says. “I’m stronger than humans, and I imagine pleasure to be the one thing that can make me lose my mind. I never trusted myself, or anyone enough to give it a try before.”
“But you trust me.”
“Always, Lois. Because you know me, and you know who I am. And because I trust you to be honest and tell me if it’s too much or if something isn’t right.”
Lois thinks this is the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to her, but she refuses to think about it for too long.
“We’re not having sex on the couch, if this is your first time,” she says decidedly, jumping to her feet. “Come with me, Smallville.”
Lois leads them to her bedroom, opening the sliding door separating it from the living-room they’d been in seconds before. He’s been in it before, obviously, sat down on her bed with his shoes off and his glasses on her nightstand in a weird, domestic moment that had Lois wondering if she should feel that way about someone she’d just only started dating a few days ago.
“Take off your pants and get on the bed.”
“Just the pants?”
“Just the pants.”
She takes off her own shirt in the meantime, happy to realise that she has worn one of her nice bras today. It’s not lacy nor is it particularly sexy, but it hugs her breasts comfortably and makes her chest look divine. She takes off her pants and socks, too, and stands there in her underwear, watching Clark carefully fold his own clothes.
When he turns, he seems to be having a hard time taking his eyes off her. Lois feels empowered and sexy, and it makes her smile.
“Come to think of it… the shirt, too.”
Clark obliges. She watches as his muscles roll as he does, her own arousal spiking at the very sight. Lois is self aware enough to know that the strength he has as Superman is a turn on—she fell for nerdy Clark, but his alter ego is definitely a pleasant surprise.
When his head emerges from the shirt, his hair is even more of a mess. Lois feels a surge of affection at the sight, and she tilts her head to the side, wondering if her heart betrays her thoughts.
“Is there anything off limits?” she asks, “I don’t want to traumatize you.”
Clark shrugs, letting the shirt fall on top of his neatly folded pants. “I’m not a monk, Lois. I’ve watched porn before, you know. I was sixteen once.”
She rolls her eyes in response.
“I know you’re not. I just want you to tell me what you want. There must be things that you’ve dreamed of, things you’ve wanted?”
This seems to get Clark a little more flustered. She purposely ignores the slowly growing bulge in his boxer briefs, and walks toward him.
“I want to make this good for you,” he insists, eyes boring into hers.
“It’s your first time, Clark.”
“No, it’s ours. And you know what you like already, so help me find out what I want that way.”
There’s no more room for Lois to argue.
“Get on the bed, then.”
He sits on the bed, with his back against the headboard and his feet a few inches shy of hanging out of it. Clark looks massive in her tiny little apartment, she realises, and she wonders if the idea should turn her on that much.
“Is there anything you want right now?” Lois asks when she straddles his thighs, letting herself hang above his crotch purposely. They’ve made out fully clothed before, and they’ve certainly dry humped a fare share—which turned Lois on to no end, even before she knew it was as far as he’d ever gotten.
“I want to kiss you. Please?”
Ready and begging? Lois has no idea how she’s gotten herself into this situation, but she’s not about to complain. She leans down, pressing her lips to the corner of his lips before finding her way to the middle of them, loving the way Clark parts his mouth readily. She’s always been a fan of kissing, but Clark takes it to a whole new level. Lois has often wondered if his kissing skills translated somewhere else, too, but she might have jumped ahead of herself a little.
Clark’s tongue is soft and warm when it meets hers, and a zip of electricity travels down her spine at the contact. Her nipples harden under the fabric of her bra, skin tingling with newly found sensations, and warmth gathers in the crux of her thighs.
“Clark,” she whispers between kisses. “Touch me.”
He doesn’t ask where, and she’s thankful for it. His big, warm hands immediately spread on her back, reaching the clasp of her bra and unclasping it with clever fingers. Lois’s mind immediately takes her to all these times she has seen Superman take out enemies, punch his way out of fights and destroy on his path—and it’s a sharp contrast to the softness with which he touches her now. Her head spins, and wetness gathers between her legs.
“Lois,” he whispers against her lips, pulling back just a few inches to look at her through hooded eyes, the blue of his pupils almost entirely swallowed by black.
He doesn’t ask her if he can keep going. Instead, he keeps watching her intensely when his right hand slides from her shoulder blade to the front of her body, reaching the swell of her breast. Lois’s mouth parts, and it’s only then that Clark looks down, taking his first look at her. His breath itches in his throat—and Lois feels powerful, more than she’s ever felt before in her life.
Clark doesn’t stop at light touches. He gropes her with care, massaging her breasts until he has Lois panting, rolling her hips against nothing. She’s still hanging above him, knees digging into the mattress, her hands firmly wrapped around the back of his head.
“Lois,” he says again. “What do you want?”
It’s only then that Lois realizes just how serious Clark was in asking for direction. When she looks down, his hand is still wrapped around her whole breast, the other sprayed on her back to keep her in place. As if she ever wanted to get away from the touch.
“Use your mouth,” she says, breathless. “I need your mouth, Clark.”
It feels like switching a button Lois had no idea existed. Before she can as much as blink, Clark’s mouth is on her tits. His tongue is firm around her nipple, free hand torturing her second bud into a rocky hard point. Lois feels herself getting more and more aroused, wetness slowly coating her underwear. She’s always been slow at getting herself worked up—which is why most of her one night stands were carefully planned, and she’s gotten into the right mindset beforehand.
But Clark seems to have no problem getting her into a state of intense arousal with the sole feeling of his mouth on her nipples. She looks down to find a mop of black curls moving in time with his ministrations on her breasts, and Lois’s fingers tighten in the back of his head.
“That’s it,” she says, breathing around a soft moan. “Do what feels right, Clark.”
She reaches for his hand while he suckles on her tit, linking her fingers to his and bringing them down between her legs. He lets her breast go with a pop, looking up at her, and Lois smiles.
“I want you to touch me.”
The feeling of Clark’s thick fingers pushing her panties to the side to reach her slit should not have gotten Lois so worked up, but it seems that everything involving Clark Kent turns out to be a major turn on. His lips return to her left breast when his fingers graze her, and Lois barely has the time to suck in a breath before his fingers make timid contact with her clit.
It sends a spark of pleasure up her spine, and Lois tilts her head back and moans.
“Right there,” she breathes, rolling her hips into the feeling. “Fuck, Clark. Are you sure this is your first time?”
He looks mildly effronted at that. When he pulls back from her breast again, Lois’s left nipple is red and shiny with his spit, and he’s got some on his chin.
“I do read, you know.”
“We’re so gonna talk about the kind of reading you do when I’ve got a couple of orgasms in me.”
Clark does not object. Instead, he presses against her clit again—a fleeting thing, not enough to get Lois going and certainly not enough for an orgasm.
“You can go a little harder, you know.”
Clark’s eyes flicker from the place between her legs to her face. “Isn’t it sensitive?”
“It is. But I’m not made of glass, and you’re barely touching me.”
This time, he applies more pressure when he caresses her. Lois feels her mouth open around a moan, her eyes fluttering shut.
“I feel your heart rate go up everytime I touch you,” Clark whispers, almost in a confession.
Lois smiles, opening her eyes again to look down at him, drinking in the pure awe on his face. “Is it driving you mad to have such power over me?”
“Lois. Everything about you drives me mad. You might think I have power over you, but the truth is, I’m just at your mercy.”
She looks at him, the little dent that the glasses have left on the bridge of his nose and his curls falling into his eyes, and wonders how much of this night she can keep in her memory forever. Instead, she tugs at her hair again, just at the base of his neck, and he groans. His mouth finds her breast again, and his finger grows bolder. Small strokes become a little more confident, and by the time he’s figured out the rhythm she likes—not too slow, but not too direct either, Lois is all but shaking in pleasure.
Never before has Lois felt so worked up from mere touches. It feels like Clark knows exactly how to play her body, to make her heart rate spike up and her mouth drop open around unashamed moans. She feels the heat radiating from him in waves, too, like the beacon of sun he can be.
“Clark,” she whispers. “Get your fingers inside me before I explode.”
He hums against her breast, tearing a shiver from her.
“Inner explosion would not be ideal,” he says with a nod, crooking his middle finger to get most of the wetness coating the inside of her legs along the side of it before he pushes it inside of her.
Lois’s head falls back immediately. A single finger of his already feels so thick she could burst with it.
“Fuck.”
“Is this okay?” Clark asks immediately, his finger barely moving as her walls flutter deliciously around the intrusion.
“More than okay. I am just re-evaluating how much work it’s going to take to fit all of you inside of me.”
Clark blushes furiously at that. “You know we don’t have to–”
“Oh, but I want to.”
“Alright.”
She appreciates the lack of argument on his side, just as much as she appreciates the feeling of his palm flushing against her clit when he pushes all the way to the last knuckle, the warmth of him seeping into her. Lois feels the irresistible urge to reach for him then, and press her mouth against his.
Clark moans into the kiss, especially when she opens her mouth and invites him to deepen it. She knows it’s a lot of sensations for anyone—but for him, all the more. It’s the feeling of her fluttering around his finger, the warmth of her tongue and the silky feeling of her body flushed against his that Clark has to deal with, a cacophony of senses he has never yet experienced.
“Lois,” He says when he breaks the kiss, his eyes fluttering shut. “I need…”
“Do you wanna get inside of me?”
“No! I mean, yes, of course. But I need to focus on you,” he explains, pained. “There’s so much noise outside, and a volcano erupting in Nepal, and I need…”
Lois reaches out to press the flat of her palm against his ears.
“You’re okay, Smallville. Focus on me.”
He does. His eyes flutter shut, chest heaving with slow breaths that match Lois’s. She can feel him relax with each of them, and finally, he opens his eyes to look at Lois.
“Can I try something out?” he asks in a whisper that is so low Lois barely hears it.
“Of course. How do you want me?”
Lois lets herself be manhandled into her back, warmth coming up to her cheeks when Clark stands there for a moment, just looking at her. Her panties she surprisingly still wears are drenched now, and she aches to reach out and take them off. Instead, she keeps her eyes on Clark as he drinks her in, his eyes flickering from her face to her breasts, before settling in between her legs.
“Would you tell me if it’s not pleasurable for you?” he asks, earnest.
Lois crooks an eyebrow, curious. “Always.”
She definitely does not expect the way Clark all but plops down between her legs, reaching for her underwear and tearing it off with ease. Her heart jumps in her chest, body squirming a little on the bed, eager for what’s to come.
“Do you know how much these cost?” she mumbles around a groan, trying her hardest not to look too eager at the sight of the man between her legs, and the intensity with which he’s now staring at the place between them.
“I’ll buy you a new pair. Several, even.”
But Lois is not listening anymore, because Clark has wrapped his left hand around her calf and slowly but surely tilts it up until her leg rests on his strong shoulder. She shivers at the feeling of his muscles rolling under the skin there, curling her toes in anticipation. Clark is a furnace on his best days, and today is no exception. She feels the heat of him seep into her via this point of contact, and Lois has to close her eyes when Clark blows a cold puff of air against her core.
For someone claiming to be totally unaware of what he’s doing, Clark knows how to crank up the excitement for Lois. His right hand reaches for the inside of her thighs, slowly tracing circles with his thumb as he settles more comfortably between her legs and stares, cataloguing every shiver that racks through her. If it had been anyone else, Lois would have been squirming under the attention, especially given the silence surrounding them, only disturbed by the sound of her heaving breathing.
But it’s Clark. And for some reason, all Lois feels is cherished, her body wound tight in anticipation for what’s to come.
“Relax,” Clark says, drawing a small circle on the junction between her thigh and ass with his thumb. “Let me take care of you.”
Lois wants to retort—but there’s nothing that can prevent her mind from going blank the moment Clark puts his mouth on her. He’s so warm. He always is, but his mouth is another level of heat that has Lois’s back shooting off the mattress immediately. Clark chuckles against her, pressing a palm against her belly to hold her down, and suddenly all Lois can do is lay there and take it.
She whines when the tip of his tongue finds her clit, pleasure sparking up her spine. Lois has always been sensitive to direct contact on her bundle of nerves, and Clark, as eager as he is, seems to understand it perfectly. The tip of his tongue turns into the broader, larger flat of it as he concentrates his ministrations to the places around it, pressing delicate kisses all over her labia. Lois looks down as he does—unable to keep her eyes away from him for a moment longer, and she finds him with his eyes closed, his mouth working her like a melody he’s slowly trying out. The sight alone has her heart jump out of her chest.
“Clark,” she says, watching as his eyes flutter open. “You can go a bit harder. Just work up to it, yeah?”
He nods, readjusting his focus.
His kisses turn a little more forceful, his tongue exploring when he dips it inside of her and has Lois groan in pleasure. His left hand finds her breasts again, reaching out to torture her nipple in a way that has Lois rutting against his face with the little to no freedom she has, entirety entangled with Clark’s body. Her pleasure comes from everywhere, sparking down between her legs to the place where Clark plays with her breasts, and it’s a stream of constant sighs of pleasure that leaves her mouth.
Lois has no tips, no indications as to how to do anything better because next thing she knows, Clark is suckling her clit in his mouth and her pleasure sparks up to an intensity she hasn’t experienced before.
“I’m going to,” she says, breathless, “Clark, if you don’t stop…”
He lets go of her clit with a pop that has Lois curling her toes on the bedding, still staring at the place between her legs with an intensity that she has only ever seen from Superman on the battlefield.
“Can I add my fingers?”
“I’m going to come if you do.”
Clark looks up at her with a smirk. “I don’t see the problem with any part of that sentence.”
“Fuck.” Then, because she can, “you’re not x-raying me down there, are you?”
He looks mildly effronted at the idea.
“I don’t need x-ray vision for your body to let me know what you need.”
“Clark Kent, putting every other man to shame.”
With a shrug, he presses a soft kiss against her mound. It has no rights being this sexy.
“Your body is practically doing all the work, Lois. Now, lie back and let me make you come, please?”
The begging will be the end of her.
But then again, the way he curls his fingers and takes her clit in his mouth as he does does a fine job at that, too. Much to her utter surprise and total plenitude, she comes with a small cry that turns into a laugh, her body locking tight around Clark’s fingers. He works her through it, tearing small sobs out of her mouth as he licks at her with intent until it all feels like she’s going to burst into flames, and finally, he lets go of her and lets her body fall back onto the bed.
If not for the flames of desire still licking through her body, Lois would have fallen asleep there and then. But Clark has awakened something within her, and she wants more.
“Nobody should be this good at that,” Lois says with a sigh, reaching for Clark’s chin to press their lips together. He tastes like her, and she licks herself off his lips, deepening the kiss. “Especially not for a first time. It's a dangerous game you’re playing, Mr Kent.”
Clark clears his throat. “Is it bad to say that I’ve dreamed of this?”
Lois pulls back, unable to hide the surprise taking over her face. Clark reaches out to caress the outside of her thighs, sparing a look between them, before looking back at her with a shrug.
“I love everything about you, don’t get me wrong. But your legs? Every time you wore a skirt at work for the past few months, I have had to listen out for news of catastrophes in Japan to keep me from staring at them until I couldn’t see straight. It’s no surprise that I wanted my head between them so badly.”
And Lois finds that she has nothing to say to that—save for kissing him again until she feels a little light-headed.
“Too much talking,” she says when they finally part, “not enough getting inside me, Kent.”
They don’t bother with condoms—and Lois should feel a little ashamed, really, but she hasn’t had sex with anyone in months, and Clark’s immune system makes him unable to catch anything. It doesn’t feel right to restrain themselves with plastic, especially not when Lois wants him so badly.
Clark, the ever gentleman that he is, puts a small pillow underneath her hips to find a better angle for her, and it would melt Lois’s heart if she wasn’t so terribly horny for him. He settles between her legs slowly, with kisses pressed against her ankle and another lustful look thrown at the junction of her thighs, and Lois reaches out for him.
“I need you to tell me if anything feels off,” Clark says, and when Lois gets the intent and the fear lacing his words, she also wants him to get inside of her now.
“I promise I will. Now, would you get on to it already?”
Clark chokes around a laugh. Lois loves how relaxed they both are. Her first time wasn’t anything like this, and when it wasn’t her boyfriend’s own first time at the time, he certainly didn’t make her feel any less nervous about it. There’s no nervousness when it comes to Clark now, except maybe about making her feel good—which tells Lois she is no doubt going to enjoy this.
He presses inside of her slowly, and despite everything, Lois tenses. He feels huge—not only because of the size, but because of all the feelings bursting to the surface the moment Clark looks down at her with those eyes, entirely and unashamedly in awe of her.
“Relax,” Clark whispers, pressing a kiss against her brow, then the corner of her lips. “It’s just me, Lois.”
Lois’s body unclenches a little, just enough for the head to pop inside of her fully. The stretch feels big—it’s a little uncomfortable, a pinch she has not felt in a long time. It’s not painful, however, but it’s just enough of a resistance to have Lois clawing at Clark’s back.
“Do you want me to pull out?”
She shakes her head immediately, wrapping both legs around Clark’s bulky frame to keep him in place.
“It’s just a lot,” she admits. “Give me a minute.”
Lois is very aware that most of the struggle she faces can be narrowed down to the way her heart beats like crazy in her chest at the thought of doing this with Clark. She’s had sex before, plenty of it even, but it has never meant so much to her. In the end, it all boils down to her body accepting what her mind is trying to tell her so desperately—and she’s not sure she’s ready to face the intensity of the feelings plaguing her.
“I can feel your heart all the way into my chest,” Clark says suddenly, breaking the silence that has settled between them, only ever interrupted by their ragged breathing. “It’s like a melody.”
Lois lets out a startled laugh. “Is it always so loud?”
“Not always. But I like knowing I’m not the only one affected right now.”
It softens something inside of Lois. Slowly, she forces herself to unclench, to lie back and relax and let her body do what it so desperately wants to. Clark takes it as a signal, pushing a little further into her and tearing a gasp from her throat.
“Lois,” Clark says through gritted teeth. He reaches out to wrap his big hand around the outside of her thigh, hiking it further up his body and opening her to him like she weighs nothing, “You’re taking me so well.”
Lois turns her face to the side to muffle the outright pornographic groan that slides out of her throat. She’s never had a praise kink—she knows she’s good in most eras of her life, and she certainly doesn’t need to hear it from any men. But there’s something very peculiar about being talked through taking Clark’s cock, especially when said man never even swears without blushing like a virgin—that he now no longer is.
Clark bottoms out inside of her, and Lois feels so full she could burst. Sparks of pleasure explode behind her eyelids, and she lets herself sink into the feeling for a second. It feels different from any other time she has had sex, and not only because it’s Clark, but because he also pushes against all the right places inside of her. His body is warm and strong atop hers, and Lois feels a little faint with the knowledge that he’s going to rock her world on his first try.
“Clark,” she mumbles, and he thankfully gets the gist of it.
His first few thrusts are a little tentative. Lois holds him tight, mostly because she feels overwhelmed with the pleasure he drags out of her but also because she feels him tremble like a leaf. It’s a lot, she gathers, to get used to all of this. Clark has spent his entire life being afraid of his strength, and he’s stripped bare (in every sense of the term) in her arms and assaulted with more pleasure than he’s ever felt.
“Relax,” she whispers against the swell of his ear, “You’re not hurting me, Clark. You can go harder.”
“It’s a lot,” he confesses. “I feel…”
“Good?”
“Better than.”
“Then let it go. Fuck me, Clark.”
His next thrust is harder. His cock drags inside of Lois, every veiny inch thick enough to press all the right buttons. She flutters around him helplessly, unable to control the full body reaction that comes with every one of his movements. Lois thrusts up against him when he finds a rhythm that suits them both—a cacophony of moans and pleas spilling past their lips, bruised kisses pressed against each other’s lips, throats, necks. Clark’s skin is warm, but not sweaty, never sweaty. The man doesn’t break a sweat fighting aliens and monsters, and she’s seen him go at it for hours until everyone but him couldn’t take it anymore. The idea that he could do this, fuck her until she cries with it for hours on end has Lois whimpering around a desperate plea.
“Lois,” Clark pants against her collarbone when her pussy clenches helplessly, the rhythmic press of his taint against her clit catapulting her towards another quick orgasm.
The wet sounds of their bodies meeting over and over again almost has Clark blushing all the way down to his toes. Lois can see it, the wickedness that’s arisen within him now that he’s tasted the metaphorical forbidden fruit, and she loves it. She tightens her legs around his frame, feeling the ache in her muscles already, knowing how sore she’s going to be at work tomorrow.
She relishes in the idea that she’s going to feel all of this sitting down at her desk. It’s the most delightful way to be marked, really.
“I’m close,” she tells him when he leans back a little, putting a short distance between them only to look her in the eyes again.
“Me too.”
He’s done particularly well, for his first time. Lois suspects he’s got more stamina than this and he’s letting go to come with her, but that’s something she’s looking forward to finding out later on. The fingers off his right hand—the one that’s not leaning into the bed next to Lois’s head—dig into the skin of her thigh now, holding her tight, holding her open. It’s a little obscene, and all the more sexy, and Lois exhales hard.
She comes with a roll of his hips inside of her and his cock kissing her G spot. It almost takes her by surprise, but she lets go with blind trust and falls right off the edge. Her orgasm lasts longer this time, enhanced by every squeeze of her walls around Clark’s cock and the feeling of his breath caressing her lips.
As he follows her in ecstasy, Clark captures her lips in a bruising kiss, muffling a moan against her mouth. She loves how vocal he’s been through it all, and Lois swears she will try to get all the more delicious moans out of his mouth next time. For the time being, she’s content to close her eyes and enjoy her dragged out pleasure with every twitch of him, his warmth spreading inside of her.
When Lois opens her eyes again, it’s to the feeling of Clark sliding out of her. Her legs feel like jello, and there’s an ache inside of her at the feeling of emptiness between her legs where Clark was seconds ago. Before she can open her mouth and whine about it, though, Clark is gone from the bed and back in a blink.
“I might never get used to this,” Lois confesses when he brings a slightly wet and warm towel between her legs, caring for her in ways that has her shivering helplessly.
“Me caring for you?”
“No, Smallville. I have a feeling this is here to stay. I meant the superspeed.”
He hums. “I can stop, if it bothers you.”
There’s a certain sadness that overtakes Lois at the idea of Clark refraining himself in her presence. Lois hates it.
“No. I like it, I just have to get my brain on board with metahuman physics.”
“Miss Lane, I have a feeling your brain can do anything, anyway.”
The towel is quickly discarded, and the sheets changed after that. Lois is more than happy to let Clark do all the hard work as she disappears to the bathroom to freshen up, and she comes back to a newly made bed and Clark patting the place beside him on the mattress. Lois shakes her head with a smile, walking down to the edge of the bed when her eyes catch something on her bedside table.
And Lois can’t help it, she starts to laugh.
“What’s so funny?” Clark asks, confused. He’s adorably rumpled, flushed all the way down to his chest and looking almost small in her bed when he’s in it all by himself.
“Out of all the days,” she replies, laughing some more, before pointing at the time. “It’s past midnight. Merry Christmas, Clark.”