Lois interlude (with NSFW)

[moonshadows]

Lois interlude.

It started with a phone call. Not to her, of course – to Smallville. And not to his desk phone, either.

“Clark Kent.”

She’d heard it so many times it was just another piece of white noise.

“I’m aware.”

Whoa. That was a tone of voice that didn’t sound happy. Lois looked up from her screen, took in Clark’s clenched jaw and stoic look of enduring horror. Who the hell was he talking to?

“I’ll be there as soon as possible.”

Not good. Not good. That was Clark’s There’s An Emergency And Superman Is Needed voice. Lois didn’t even pretend to be working, focusing all her attention on him.

“What’s wrong, Clark?” she asked as soon as he hung up. His computer was shutting down, and he looked ready to leave.

He tossed her his keys. “Tell Perry I had to leave. Family emergency.”

She didn’t miss that he hadn’t actually answered her question. “Clark…”

For just a moment, he looked helpless. He wanted to answer, but couldn’t. It really was a Superman thing, then.

“It’s related to that thing we don’t discuss,” he said.

Normally, from anyone else, she’d call that a cop-out. But she hadn’t been sitting on Batman’s secret identity with anyone else, and she hadn’t almost inhaled grilled flatbread loaded with wild mushrooms, house pancetta and fontina cheese at those words with anyone else. Whatever the Superman Emergency was, it involved Batman. “Right,” she choked out. “Keep me posted.”

He looked grim at that. “I make no promises.”

This was bad.

 

Perry took the news well. She took the presence of Clark’s keys as a hint that she should drive his car and stay at his place, so she decided to do just that. If she also did a little nosing around, well, she was a reporter. The rest of the work day passed in a haze of concern and speculation. Her phone stayed silent. As usual, she wondered if there was more to his choice of automobile than just the convenient-to-fly-out-from roof. There was a burger joint near his building that looked good, and she picked up dinner on her way to his place.

The first thing she did was check the answering machine, but there was nothing new. Nothing on any of the stations, either, and even the internet news sites didn’t give her any idea of what was going on. Frustrated at being deprived of a story, she went snooping.

An hour later, Lois sat down at the kitchen table with a spoon, pouring chocolate syrup directly into and eating directly out of half a carton of ice cream in a fit of pique. If she didn’t know any better, she’d swear that Clark Kent from Smallville was a squeaky-clean nobody. The most interesting thing she’d found was a pair of pajamas, a long-sleeved tee-shirt, and a pair of jeans sitting all by themselves in one drawer – and the only interesting thing about that was there wasn’t any underwear with them. That was only interesting because she suspected the clothes were for Bruce, and a lack of underwear hinted that he went commando. There was no pump-bottle of hand lotion in the bathroom, no crumpled Kleenex or toilet paper in the trash, no condoms in a bedside table drawer or hidden in between the neatly-folded socks or briefs. Who folded their socks and briefs? Squeaky-clean Kryptonians from Smallville, apparently. There wasn’t even any porn in the closet or under the bed, only a waterproof fleece in a box with a Gotham return address.

Maybe she ought to give him a bottle of lube. He probably didn’t even know it existed. Bruce probably did, though, and she’d stake her reputation on him being too clever to have unprotected sex with anyone, male or female. Or maybe super-speed would make normal lube dry out too quickly, and Batman would need his own high-tech superhero gun oil. Silicone, maybe? Something better? Lois made a mental note to look up heavy-duty lubricants when she got home. And probably email Bruce about the issue, too – she had no idea what Kryptonian physiology would demand in terms of protection, and if Clark was going to need a special hat for his little soldier, she wanted to know ahead of time.

As her cell phone went off, she realized this was perhaps not the best thing to be thinking about at this point in time. Spoon stuck in the ice cream, she checked the number. Wayne Manor.

“Lois here.”

“Hey, Lois, it’s me.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “You’re actually keeping me posted.”

“You don’t have to sound so surprised,” he protested. “Anyway, the worst part is past, but I’m spending the night to make sure he’s okay.”

Lois pulled the spoon back out and licked it. “What happened?”

“It’s kind of a long story,” he said unhappily. “Since I know you want to go digging, though, see what you can find on a Ms. Selina Kyle. S-E-L-I-N-A.”

The spoon went violently back into the ice cream. “Did she hurt him?”

“No! It’s not like that.” She could almost see the awkward look on his face. “Uh, kind of the opposite.”

The opposite. Well, if that wasn’t all kinds of loaded. “There’s another woman?”

“There’s another woman,” he sighed. “I’ve met her. She loves him.”

“And he…”

“…loves her,” Clark finished grimly. “So much so that he was incredibly distraught over it.”

Selfishly, she seethed with silent resentment for a good half a minute before asking, “So how does this change things?”

“For the moment,” he said warily, “it doesn’t. Mainly because he’s out cold, and will be for probably another eight to ten hours. Since it’s Friday, I thought I’d stay with him overnight and fly back tomorrow afternoon.”

That was too casual a statement, and Lois grinned. “Spit it out.”

“Spit what out?” He was enjoying this too much; she wasn’t going to get anything out of him at this rate. Time to switch tactics.

“I’m eating your ice cream.”

Silence; she was forcing him to either accept her change of subject, or resume his subject without the obfuscation. She smirked in victory.

“I thought maybe I could meet you at your place around three.” He sounded like he was facing a firing squad. “Just the two of us.”

Lois eyed the chocolate syrup, having distinctly naughty thoughts about the super-powered Boy Scout and wondering if she was reading too much into that phrasing. “It’s going to be a nice day,” she said blandly. “I’ll leave my windows open.”

“Close the one in the bedroom if it rains tonight,” he said just as blandly. “Enjoy the ice cream.”

Well, that took all the fun out of it.

 

She used Clark’s computer to investigate the competi- er, to investigate Ms. Kyle. There wasn’t much, but what she could find painted an interesting picture. Legal name change; she flagged that for later exploration. Moving to a new city. Registered purebred Cornish Rex with an impressive number of offspring, but never shown. Owned a small nonprofit aimed at protecting mountain lion habitats and made fairly generous donations to non-kill shelters specializing in cats. Arrested in the last week on charges of theft. She stared at that one for a long time, first wondering how she could have wormed her way into Batman’s heart as a crook, then remembering Clark saying Bruce was incredibly distraught over her. Then she found a small article on how a woman previously unknown in the upper-crust circles had bid ten grand at a charity auction and scored a date with Gotham’s hottest catch, and slammed the lid of the laptop down.

Pacing helped her order her thoughts. Reluctantly, she admitted to herself that she was jealous because Bruce had never been incredibly distraught over her. Yes, he’d charmed her socks off and then quietly dumped her because he thought she deserved better, and yes, that kind of respect was very gratifying even if she wanted to smack him for making that decision without talking to her first but didn’t because god that man had a lot of issues but he was working on them and underneath it all he really was a big softie, and what was her point again? Right. All the men in her life were wonderfully respectful, but sometimes a girl wanted to be fussed over.

Lois sighed and stopped pacing. If she were being honest with herself, which apparently she was doing, she had to admit that while Bruce was amazingly hot, and she wanted to help him get his head straightened out and maybe let him knock her socks off once or twice a month…she didn’t exactly want to settle down and she didn’t see him doing the domestic thing, either. She was a reporter, she got into trouble in the pursuit of news on a regular basis, and she didn’t really want to give that up. Clark could keep up with her, and bail her out, and she could actually (if she let herself think of such things, which apparently she was doing) picture herself in a white dress with an armful of flowers walking down an aisle to where Smallville was waiting, being his usual dorky self in a tux and looking at her dad nervously while Ma Kent sniffled into a handkerchief and Pa Kent beamed and wait, had she just cast Jimmy as the ring bearer?

Hands over her face, Lois groaned. Why was she wasting time with these girly fantasies when she could be contemplating adult fantasies?

Defiantly, she helped herself to a hot shower and one of Clark’s tee-shirts, then sprawled out in his bed and unrepentantly imagined all the wicked things he and Bruce could have been doing to each other but hadn’t because Smallville had probably never seen gay porn, much less starred in it.

 

In the morning, Lois felt much more charitable towards Ms. Kyle. She probably hit it off with Bruce the same way Lois had hit it off with Clark, and really, she couldn’t begrudge Bruce someone who could keep up with him. She’d even kiss the idea of steamy sex once or twice a month good-bye if Selina objected, although she wondered how the other woman would take Bruce’s occasional nights with Clark.

She drove Clark’s car back to work and took her own to her apartment, where she promptly threw on casual clothes and made herself lunch. Then she remembered last night’s musings and spent half an hour doing an exhaustive comparison of silicone lubricants before clearing her browser history and opening the bedroom window. No reason not to hint, right?

The sound of an incoming video call chimed merrily at her as she rattled back down the bedroom stairs and slid into the seat at the breakfast bar where she’d left her laptop. Somehow, despite their weekly chats, it was still a surprise to see Bruce’s handle was calling.

Accept.

The encrypted video feed cut on, showing him in that cave of his and looking about as grim as he ever did. “Lois, we need to talk.”

Well, that would have been discouraging if she hadn’t been thinking about it for the last twelve hours. Give or take. “Yeah,” she sighed, “I guess we do. So tell me about her, Bruce.”

His face actually lit up, the way it was only supposed to in movies. She held up one hand.

“Never mind, your expression says it all.” Lois grinned. “You’re cute when you’re in love.”

Bruce looked sheepish. “Is it that obvious?”

“Yeah, it really is.”

“That’s a relief,” he said solemnly. “I was afraid I was projecting feelings for you onto her out of a reluctance to get between you and Clark.”

Oh, boy, he really did have issues. “Bruce, trust me, if you’d had those kind of feelings for me I would have been a lot more insistent when you ‘forgot’ my number. Look, I know things between us are complicated, and I’m not going to even try to figure out what you’ve got going with Smallville, but I think we both know that it was never going to be more than friendship and maybe some casual sex between you and me.”

“You’re not disappointed?” he asked hesitantly.

Lois waved the question away. “Like I’ve got time for long-distance romance? I like my relationships the way I like my reporting: hard and fast, no excuses or apologies, just facts. If Selina’s okay with occasional benefits to our friendship, then there’s nothing to be disappointed about and if not, then she’ll just have to deal with me using you for fantasizing anyway.”

“Like I told Clark, the penthouse won’t be furnished and secured to my standards for another month. Selina’s case is being hurried along due to pressure from the federal government, but – what?” he asked, seeing her frown.

“Why are the feds getting involved?”

That was a very predatory smile. She’d never seen Batman smile before, but she was pretty sure that’s what it looked like.

“Selina was accidentally instrumental in preventing a terrorist attack that would have wiped out everyone in a ten-mile radius. For some reason, they want to keep it under wraps that this came very close to happening.”

Lois swallowed, feeling a chill of fear crawl down her spine. “How close, exactly?”

“Let’s just say I expect she’ll get just enough of a slap on the wrist that no one will raise questions about why her sentence wasn’t harsher.”

“Right.” She shook her head slightly. “So, you don’t think she’ll be out before the penthouse is ready, and the subject of us probably isn’t one you want to bring up during visitation. You already know I can keep a secret. Do you want to get it over with and possibly pretend it never happened, or wait and see what she says and possibly have it never happen at all?”

Bruce’s grim expression didn’t lighten up any. “I don’t know.”

She glanced at the time. “Mm. Clark still there?”

“Yes,” he said in a tone of such finality that her impulse was to drop the subject.

Instead, she scowled. “You’re going to have to figure that out sooner or later.”

“Then I’ll do it later,” he shot back. “Right now I’m a little preoccupied with how Selina’s going to deal with the inevitable discovery that I’ve kissed Superman.”

Oh. Well then. “Really? You kissed him? How did he take that?”

“Better than I did,” he answered dryly.

Lois leaned forward, resting her chin on one fist. “Bruce, you are the worst manwhore in the history of men with loose morals.”

He gave her a wry smile. “That’s because I’m only pretending to have loose morals.”

“Which is why it’s so important to keep reaffirming that you are sexually attractive despite you thinking you’re some kind of monster because you’re covered in scars.” She glared him down until he closed his mouth, protest unuttered. “Selina’s not able to take over there for at least a month. You’re still not certain whether you even want to know if Clark finds you sexually attractive, and if there’s anyone else you feel comfortable jerking it in front of, you sure as hell haven’t told me. You already know all the physiological benefits to masturbation, Bruce. If you were messed up badly enough to need a house call, then you could damn well use the endorphins.” She paused to see if he was going to say anything. He didn’t. “You know I’m right.”

He scowled at her. “That doesn’t mean I have to be happy about it.”

“God forbid you should be happy.” She didn’t bother trying to keep it under her breath.

“Lois…”

The growl didn’t even faze her. “Go tell Smallville that I’m waiting for him at my place. Kiss him goodbye. Then come back and think about Selina because I know you want this to be therapy instead of video phone sex, but I’ve had actual sex that was less satisfying than watching you jerk off, and I want to see how far I can push those wholesome Kansas values while Clark Kent is officially out of town on a family emergency.”

Bruce’s unhappy look slowly relaxed until he was giving her a very small smile. “That good, huh?”

“If I say yes,” she asked, crossing her arms, “are you going to stop fighting me on this?”

“I’ll be right back,” he said smugly, evading the question as usual.

 

 

Whether that had been one honey of a goodbye kiss or the possibility of discovery gave it extra spice, it didn’t take Bruce long to finish. Maybe he’d just been thinking really hard about the new woman in his life. Regardless, Lois was more than ready for Superman to come save the day by the time he drifted silently in through the bedroom window and alighted on the floor.

“Over here,” she invited from the bed, covers already thrown back. She’d ditched the shorts and bra in favor of just the worn and comfortable tee and traded plain white panties for the satin bikini-cut that matched her eyes.

Superman swallowed. Hard. “Lois?”

“Clark Kent’s out of town,” she purred.

He caught her meaning almost immediately. Or maybe just realized that they’d both had the same thought. “I’d ask if you’re sure, but you look pretty determined, so…” A blur of motion, and the Superman costume was a brightly-colored puddle on the floor.

He was every bit as luscious as Bruce, but without the scars. “Now this,” she muttered, feasting her eyes, “is what I call truth in advertising.” She gestured at his briefs. “You gonna take those off?”

“I don’t think I should,” he said, softening the warning by joining her on the bed.

Lois ran her hands up his abs, across his pecs, into his hair and pulled him down for a kiss. “Mm. Why not?”

“Because we aren’t going all the way,” he answered. If his abs weren’t every bit as firm as his voice, she might object.

She kissed him again, deeper. “How far are we going, then?”

One warm hand slid down her arm, rested on her hip. He gave her an Adonis smile that made all his farmboy flustering a lie. “What’s the rush?”

She considered that while he lay down beside her, pulled her to that delicious chest of his, worshipped her mouth with his. He had a point. This was a rare opportunity, and she was not about to waste it.

Somewhere past the half-hour mark, they rounded the bend and slid into third, Clark’s fingers dipping beneath violet satin and Lois’s shirt long since abandoned. Turnabout was fair play, right? Wasn’t there a saying about geese and ganders? She wasn’t doing very good at concentrating on anything besides how much she wanted more, but she was pretty sure he wouldn’t object if her fingers went wandering.

 Sure enough, he groaned as she gripped his Rod of Steel, but didn’t pull away. In fact, he redoubled his efforts in her panties. In turn, she wrestled him into a better position for some good old-fashioned handiwork and the next few minutes passed very pleasantly. She was getting close and he sounded like he was getting closer, and then they started sounding like a Beatles cliché because she was saying yes, but he was saying no.

“No,” he moaned weakly. “Lois, stop. No.”

His fingers weren’t stopping, so neither was she.

“No, stop, don’t…no…”

Almost there. He was bucking against her hand, and she tightened her grip, pressing against his fingers in turn.

“No…Lois, stop!”

Suddenly he wrenched out of her grip and there was a noise like a bullet hitting the ceiling or the wall behind her, only no gunshot to explain it, and Clark sighed in involuntary bliss leaving her aching but terrified.

“What just happened?” she demanded, survival trumping pleasure.

“The reason we’re not going all the way,” Clark said dryly. His cock twitched and began slinking back beneath his tighty-whiteys.

“You came,” she accused. Irrational anger warred with the terror and the disappointment of being denied her own climax.

“Faster than a speeding bullet, stronger than a locomotive.”

Slowly, she sat up and turned to inspect her wall. There was a small hole, like a bullet had actually been shot at it, and a pale viscous substance dribbling slowly down from the hole.

Well, that sure killed the mood.

“It’s not fair,” she huffed, glaring at her abused wall. “Everyone’s getting off but me.”

“Do you want me to-”

Lois climbed angrily over him and reclaimed her bra. “No.”

“Lois, I’m sorry.”

Don’t look, Lois. You know he’s going to give you the hangdog eyes. Don’t look.

She kept her back turned as he got out of bed, managing to get the bra fastened and into place before he stopped behind her, arms sliding around her, the warmth of his skin against hers melting her determination.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed into her ear, making her shiver. “I should have told you that would happen."

“Yeah,” she grumped. “You should have.”

One hand slid higher, fingertips teasing her nipple through the fabric of her bra while the other went lower, slipping beneath violet satin again. “Let me make it up to you.”

A thought crossed her mind and shot straight down her spine, leaving delicious tingles of anticipation in its wake. Super-strength and super-speed might just work out to her advantage after all.

“Okay.” She threw the word out as a challenge. “But not like this.” Defiant, she turned around in his arms and pulled him down for a kiss, deliberately deepening it and testing the motion of his tongue. “Like that,” she demanded as they parted.

Watching realization spread across his face was something she’d treasure forever. Confusion blossomed into comprehension, which faded into embarrassment as he caught the implication and then retreated before gratification as it occurred to him that curses are just misapplied blessings, and then he looked eager and smug.

She unhooked the bra and tossed it over her shoulder while he slid both thumbs into the waistband of her panties and tugged them down for her to step out of. Then he scooped her up and carried her back to bed.

That, she thought muzzily an indeterminate time later, was possibly the best idea she’d ever had and she didn’t care in the slightest if Miss L. L. had been the one those techniques had been honed on originally because they were being used on her now, and if that girly fantasy wound up being a reality she was so going to make Lana one of her bridesmaids just to rub it in that he was hers now until death did they part.

“Am I forgiven?” he asked as he stretched out beside her.

With a quiet groan, she rolled over and pressed her face against his rock-hard chest. “Keep doing that, and I’ll let you have the by-line.”

He laughed quietly. “On what?”

“On Superman’s engagement to one Lois Lane, Daily Planet.”

“I told you,” he said sternly, but she could hear the grin. “I wanted anything between us to be without the cape.”

“Which you’re not wearing at the moment.”

“You know what I mean.”

“And it’s going to have to wait while Clark Kent has alleged gay sex with Bruce Wayne and then whatever happens with Selina Kyle and then maybe once Kent’s gay phase is over no one will think twice about him rebounding with me. Either way, you are mine, buster. You and that amazing tongue of yours.”

The way his arms tightened around her, just for a second, hinted that he hadn’t thought he had that much of a chance with her.

“You really mean that?” he asked in a hushed whisper.

Lois sighed and tossed pretense out the window. “Yeah, I really do. You’re infuriating sometimes, but I love you.”

“And it really doesn’t bother you, the idea of sharing me with Bruce?”

She snorted. “Two of the hottest men on the planet going at it? No, Smallville, I am scarred for life. The only cure is to let me join in, or at least watch. I hope Selina feels the same way; it would be nice to have a girlfriend who I could commiserate and-slash-or make appreciative comments with. I’ll make her my Maid of Honor if you make Bruce your Best Man.”

“Is that a promise, or a threat?” he teased.

“Both. And I want Lana designing my dress.”

“And that,” he said in dead seriousness, “is why I love you.”

She leaned back to prod his chest with one finger and glare up at him. “Don’t think this changes anything,” she warned. “You want my stories, you’re going to have to steal them from me the old-fashioned way, like everyone else.”

He looked way too cheerful at that. “Good. I wouldn’t have it any other way. Was there anything else you wanted to lay on the table?”

Now that he mentioned it…

“Yeah. First, one of us is going to have to ask Bruce to figure out a condom that your little swimmers can’t break.” The look on his face was priceless. “Second, are you gay for him?”

 “I need to think about that,” he said slowly. “But I also need to know what he wants, because I get the feeling if I said yes, he’d go along with it just to make me happy.”

Lois frowned at how much sense that made. “Okay. You figure yourself out, and I’ll push him to do the same.”