Fast Lane

TITLE: Fast Lane AUTHOR: MidKnight CHAPTER: 5 of 5 FANDOM: Smallville SHIP: Clark / Lois RATING: NC-17 CATEGORY: Erotica SPOILERS: A couple, Season Three UNIVERSE: What if Lois met Clark during his Red Kryptonite summer between the end of Season 2 and the beginning of Season 3 while she is going through a rebellious phase of her own. DISCLAIMER: None of these characters belong to me. They belong to The WB and whoever else does. I pay homage to them and I make no profit from this story in any fashion, way or means. AUTHORS NOTE: I apologize before hand and hope you will forgive any errors or blatant discrepancies. FEEDBACK: Yes Please. It helps. It really, really helps. - midknight_tales@yahoo.com CHAPTER FIVE Lois woke with a start, blinking the sleep from her eyes. She looked around and stretched, her muscles only complaining slightly as if she'd overdone it at the gym. The blinds were closed, they hadn't been the night before and she was alone, also something she hadn't been the night before. She frowned, trying to figure out what had woken her. She knew exactly where she was and how she'd got there. The memories of the previous night were very clear and vivid, so that wasn't it. She kept looking around, trying to discover what had woken her. She noticed her clothes, neatly folded on a chair in the corner of the room. "Had it been a sound of some sort?" she asked herself because the apartment seemed eerily quiet. "And, where's Clark?" she wondered. At least one of her questions were answered as the bathroom door opened and Clark stepped out. He was wearing a grey sweatpants and a plain white t-shirt. He seemed to be hunched over, but when he saw she was awake, he straightened. Just, for a moment, she saw a kind of haunted look on his face before it was replaced by the smile that had so thoroughly charmed her the night before. The glimpse was so short and his smile so bright, that she almost thought she hadn't seen it, but there was a certain tension in his stance and tightness around his eyes, that made her believe it had been real. "Well, you're finally up. You looked so serene, I didn't have the heart to wake you." He told her. She noticed him rub his chest and then stop almost abruptly, as if he had just realized he was doing it. "Are you okay?" she asked, slipping out from under the covers. "I'm fine." He answered, just a touch too quickly and a little too sharply. She wanted to press the matter, but her stomach suddenly made a rather unladylike growl. "Whoa there, Tiger. Let's get you some breakfast. C'mon." he suggested, nodding to the living room and effectively changing the subject. Now, alerted to it, her hunger let itself be known and she was glad to take his offer, but she did file the incident away for later pursuit as she followed him into the other room. "What time is it?" she asked. "Ten-ish." He replied. There were three room service carts and the wonderful aromas of pastries, pancakes, eggs, bacon and sausage tantalized her nose and made her mouth water as he lifted the covers off those and other dishes. "I didn't know what you'd like, so I got a little of everything. Dig in." he informed her as he started filling a plate for himself. "When did I step into Pretty Woman?" she asked playfully. "You don't think I'm a... a lady of negotiable virtue, do you?" she continued, turning her tone serious, being only half-serious about the question. She couldn't stop the laughter that bubbled up at his reaction. He nearly choked on the scrambled eggs he'd just put in his mouth as he sputtered an apology and told her he hadn't, his face a mask of distraught horror at the thought that he might somehow have inferred it. She tried to be contrite, but she still chuckled softly as she poured and handed him a glass of OJ to help clear his throat, before pouring one for herself. "Relax, Clark. I was kidding. Besides, if I were, you wouldn't be able to afford me." She told him with a dramatic flip of her hair. "My you're funny, what did you call it? Lady of non-negotiable virtue." He countered, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Someone give the man a teddy bear, he got it in one." She continued the game. "Wanna play some more?" she asked sweetly and he held up a hand in surrender and she joined him at the kitchen counter, taking a seat on a stool. They had their breakfast in relative silence as she wolfed her way through the plate she piled quite high with food. She was raviness. She felt eyes on her and looked up to find him watching her intently. He was toying with a bear-shaped honey dispenser with a slight smile quirking the sides of his mouth. "What?" she asked, licking her lips and wiping her cheeks in case she had something stuck on them. He just shook his head slightly, his smile widening. She tried to ignore him. The food was delicious and was hitting the spot perfectly, but his gaze made her skin prickle. She looked at him again and repeated her query. He was laughing at her, she could see it in her eyes. "Nothing, Lois. It's just a pleasant surprise to find a girl with such a, hmmmm, healthy appetite." He told her, mirth coloring his voice. She wanted to retort, but had nothing. "Truce?" she offered and he nodded. "Now finish you're breakfast, you still left some of the pattern on the plate." He told her and she gave him a withering look and he gave her a saucy wink in return. He didn't stop looking at her though and she kept throwing glances at him as she cleaned her plate. The look in his eye had grown speculative and had a certain heat to them as he kept toying with the honey dispenser. She could almost see the wheels turning in his head. "What are you thinking?" she asked curiously. Her words seemed to shake him out of a deep reverie. "I was just wondering what your nipples would taste like with this on them." He told her, showing her the dispenser. His words seemed to speak directly to her libido. Having sated one appetite, he aroused another. Her nipples slid against the fabric of the shirt as they started to perk up as if they knew they were being talked about and she suddenly felt hot. She licked her lips slowly. "Would you like to find out?" she asked, the wanton woman she had met the night before, entering her body and using her voice again. His reply was to slip off his stool and take her face gently in his hands and guiding her lips to his. He kissed her slowly, taking his time, nipping and sucking at her lips and letting his tongue fence playfully with hers. He let go of her face and unbuttoned the shirt as they kissed. Once it was undone, he lifted his arms and she dragged his t-shirt up and over his head, breaking the kiss only long enough to get the material past his mouth. She could feel need building in her as he turned her while they continued to kiss until her back was to the counter. Lois started to wonder if good sex was in someway addictive, or was it the anticipation of the climax she knew he could give her? She tried to consider the issue, but his lips and hands were extremely distracting as the former explored her lips and the latter slid with warm friction along her skin under the open shirt. His kiss, his touch, even his simple suggestion had turned a switch in her. One moment she was the Lois Lane she had worked hard to become, tough, savvy and in control; the next she Lois Lane the fast girl who could feel her snatch getting wet and open, her breasts grow tight and tingly, her nipple swelling and hardening and was suddenly, gagging for it. And, not only that she enjoyed it, reveled in the surrender to her desire. Conjecture and thought in general were scattered by the pulses of pleasure that radiated into her chest when his palms firmly cupped her breasts and his nimble fingers found and rolled and flicked and tweaked the sensitive nubs of her nipples. She felt as if their was a direct line between her breasts and her pussy as his touch made her sex clench and twist against itself and flood warmly with lube. He shifted her forward on the stool, so that he was standing between her legs and she could feel his cock hard, hot and throbbing against her, separated only be the material of his sweat pants. "Lean back." He told her and his voice low and vibrating with heat and desire. She put her elbow back on the counter and bumped against her plate and she paused. He noticed, and with a simple swipe of his arm the plate and glass was swept off the counter to crash to the floor. "Lean back." He repeated and she complied. He looked down at her, hungry passion blazing in his eyes, the strange scar shifting on his chest as it heaved when he took deep breaths. He licked hid lips and then slowly and deliberately took each side of the open shirt in turn and pulled it out of the way to reveal her breasts and their straining peaks. He studied her for a moment and his gaze made her skin heat even more. "Do you know how beautiful you are?" he asked. She didn't think he was actually looking for an answer as he reached for the honey dispenser he had left on the counter. He dribbled some of the golden liquid onto her chest, just above and into her cleavage. Lois felt the syrup slide slowly along her skin and down between her breasts. He flashed her a smile and then leaned forward and lowered his head. He ran his tongue up between her breasts, collecting the honey and leaving a tingling trail on her skin. He lifted his tongue from her and kept moving up until his lips met hers. His tongue flicked into her mouth and she sucked the sweet syrup off it and they kissed hungrily. They were both grinning when he broke the kiss. He then dribbled a dollop on each of her nipples and tossed the dispenser over his shoulder. He took her breasts in his hands, massaging them lightly before sucking on first one and then the other of her stiff, honey coated nipples. Her elbows press against the counter top as her back arches and she pushes her breast into his hot, wet sucking mouth and swirling tongue and she lets out a low moan of appreciation. Her hips start to undulate without any conscious thought from her. The material of his sweatpants feels rough against her swollen folds and the inside of her thighs as she rubs against the warm ridge of his erection, but she can't help herself. It also feels really good as the friction sends little sparks of sensation through her nerves that tightens the small of her back and makes her belly tremble slightly. Her head lolls back and she licks lips, which has suddenly gone dry from dragging in air through her open mouth. It takes a bit of effort, but she shakily manages to balance on one of her forearms and cups the back of his head and neck with her free hand, increasing the pressure of his mouth on her breast. His hips are moving and he is rubbing back against her. She can here him murmur and groan against her breast and the vibration sends tingling pleasure along her skin. She wants to tell him how good it feels, but all she can do is groan and mewl as rolling waves of warm pleasure laps at her senses and robs her of speech. Her pussy is grinding and sliding against itself, a moist roiling sea of arousal and sex cream as if searching for something to clench against. He provides that something when he slides his thick fingers between her folds and then slides two of them inside her. His thumb finds her clit with a steady, circling pressure that makes her gasp and draw in a shuddering breath as the touch sends bolts of electric delight into her belly. His fingers drive back and forth inside her, sliding smoothly into her tight flesh on a copious coating of slick sex grease. He wriggles his fingers, finding places inside her that have remained untouched and which send little thrills through her. The words that do manage to find their way out of her lips don't sound like her own. They sound desperate and pleading, almost begging. "Clark... I want... I want you, please... Please." She asks him on a heavy panted breath. He lifts his head and her nipples prickle as the saliva he left behind on them cools in the morning air. She lifts her head to look at him and repeats her request more simply: "Please?" His hands grip her waist and he pulls her off the stool and turns her to face the counter, with him now standing behind her. He strips off her shirt, leaving her naked. His hand slides up her spine from the small of her back and then he applies pressure between her shoulder blades, pushing her forward and bending her over the counter. Her hands find and grip the far edge of the counter as his warm hands work their way back down her back to fondle her buttocks. The warmth and pressure left her skin and she heard the rustle of material sliding down skin. There seemed to be an unbearably long, silent pause that tempted her to turn and find out what he was doing and why he wasn't doing what she wanted. Then, she feels the head of his cock slide teasingly up and down through her folds. She braces herself, waiting, but he doesn't increase his pressure. Instead, she feels him lean over her and blow hotly over her ear. "Tell me what you want, Lois." He whispers to her, her voice part purr, part feral growl. She just wants to press back onto him, drive herself onto his thick shaft. The slight friction of his tip just brushing its way up and down through her folds is a maddening torture. She feels his hand at her waist and his grip tightens, effectively holding her in place with amazing strength. He nips lightly at her earlobe. "Tell me." He reiterated with intensity. If any other person toyed with her like this, at any other time, he would have already felt the flat of her hand across their cheek and or her knee in his crotch, but the wanton in her had taken control, and she wanted satisfaction. Lois groaned and lifted her head. "I want to feel you inside me. I want to feel that thick, long cock stretch and fill me. I want to feel your hands all over me. I... I want you to fuck me. I want you to make me cum like a banshee. Is that what you want to hear?" she almost spat at him, while realizing that was exactly what she wanted. Right then and there, she wanted him to fuck her, to take her like he had up against the wall the previous evening. The realization shocked her, making her wonder what her association, after only such a short time, with Clark was doing to her. "Only if that's what you really want, Lois." He continued. It was the way he said her name with such heat, pent up desire and sultry promise that pushed her over the edge. "Yes! Goddammit! Fuck me, Clark! Fuck me, Now!" She screamed at him, straining back against his grip, which he promptly released. She slid back onto him and he thrust forward driving into her. His shaft knifed into her, slicing a hot trail though her intimate flesh, that resisted mightily, but only for the briefest of moment. Pain and pleasure mingled to the point where one fed the other and she couldn't distinguish between the two. She grunted and gave a little cry of satisfaction as their bodies crashed together and her sex squeezed at his shaft, testing its resistance as it throbbed in her core. His fast, hard penetration and her intense encouragement of it left her panting heavily and blinking her eyes, trying to clear the spots that danced in front of them whether she had them open or closed. His fingers raked up her back, leaving hot phantom trails in their wake and he gripped her shoulders. She groaned as he pulled back, dragging almost his entire length from her and then with a flex of his arms and a thrust of his hips he thrust into her and pulled her to him in one smooth powerful motion. She cried out with an explosive breath as he slammed into her again, her head coming up from where she had let it loll forward, her hair flying back and then falling forward to cover her face. He repeated the process, again and again and again, hammering her with lower, deep, powerful strokes that made her cry out and tremble in counterpoint to the shockwaves of the impact that shook her body. She resisted him eagerly, hungrily, bracing herself against his thrust and pushing back to grind against him. Pleasure and energy danced across her nerves in cascading rolls of thunder and sharp cracks of lightning as the storm inside grew. He drove into and then ground into her ass while he shifted his grip, letting go of her shoulders and reaching around to clutch her breasts in his large, strong hands. He leant over her as he started to thrust again. His weight is a firm, hot pressure against her back. She can feel the scar on his chest rub against her back. His breath is heavy and hot against her neck and the side of her face. He started to speak to her, his voice low, tight, rough and intense. He told her how good she felt around him; how hot and tight she was; how sexy she was; how he was going to keep pounding into her until she didn't know whether she was begging him to stop, or not to. And, all the while, he continued to drive himself relentlessly into her, his statements punctuated by the slapping collision of his pelvis with her ass. She clung to the counter, grateful for its support as her legs began to quiver uncontrollably with the effort of keeping her up and driving her back onto him. The intensity of his words and the power with which he was taking her, scared her a little, but the fear somehow added an extra thrill she never would have expected even existed. The whole thing started to take on a rather surreal quality. Her body was racked and awash with intense sensations. Her nerves sang and buzzed as synapses fired at lightning speed to convey all the stimuli to her brain, which teetered on the very edge of sensory overload. Yet, at the same time it was as if a part of her consciousness was floating outside herself, watching, cataloguing, commenting and recording the extra ordinary experience. It told her how amazing it was and at the same time told her how desperately out of character it was for her. One moment she was a sexual-adventurer, exploring her desires and the next she was a wanton hussy who begged a guy to fuck her after knowing him for less than twenty-four hours. Her head dropped and she could see her knuckle were white with the ferocious grip she had on the edge of the counter. His squeezing hands on her breasts drove hot needles of pleasure into her chest, making it hard to breath. Strong, nimble fingers found and did things to her nipples, squeezing them, rolling them, stretching them, flicking them, turning the needles into sharp delicious daggers. She shut her eyes, the sensation of her body rocking further forward as he pounded into her and the brace of her arms began failing to counter the force as her muscles started to misfire with the onset of her climax, being somehow more bearable behind in the darkness behind her closed lids. She could feel it, roiling and building inside her, energy, raw and wild, barely contained and hungry to escape the cage of her core. With, a mighty heaved stroke and a strained backward thrust from her, the bars shattered and it was free to rampage. He head flew up and back, a cry that came close to being a howl, ripped from her throat, her eyes snapping open, the darkness replaced by white, blurry light. Her back arched so hard she could have sworn she somehow heard her vertebrae crack. Her pussy locked around him, or tried to, but he continued to plough into her and she cried out again with the intensity of the friction. The energy of her climax ripped through her, blowing nerves like an electrical surge blows light bulbs, with bright shows of delightful sparks. And, still he continued to drive his cock in and out of her. Her grip on the counter and her arms failed and she started to collapse forward, but his hands left her breasts and his arms wrapped around her just under them, holding her up and in place. And, still he continued to drive his cock in and out of her. It was exquisite torture. Her sensitized flesh screamed in pain at its continued use, while at the same time shockwaves of pleasure swept through her with each stroke. She mewled and whimpered, her body unable to respond to her commands, which see sawed back and forth between her telling it to try and pull away from him and to thrust back against him. Her sex tried to adapt, rippling around him once it realized it's orgasmic grip was insufficient to impede him. Her snatch gushed with her juices in heavy spurts as if trying to put out the fire his thrusting manhood was burning into her depths. Climactic tremors shook her again and again as she continued to orgasm in wave after pulsing wave on the force of his unrelenting pounding. His apartment had somehow turned into a furnace that was eating up all the oxygen as she battled to find enough air. Her heart was trying to batter its way out of her ribcage and she felt light headed, her sense reeling, close to the point of passing out. The balance between pain and pleasure shifted and her intimate flesh shrieked in agony as it was driven beyond its ability to withstand. "Stop! Oh Sweet Jesus! Please! Stop! Too Much! Please, Clark! STOP!!!!!!!!" she cried out, pleading, her voice ragged and unrecognizable. He drove in once more and she was sure she was going to die, but then with a cry that was part snarl, part bellow, he tore himself from her, his arms releasing her as well, making her gasp. She vaguely felt splashes of liquid heat hit her back and buttocks as she fell forward, ending up draped over the counter. Her legs were barely able to support her and after a moment failed all together to do so. She felt herself begin to slide off the counter and by some miracle managed to turn herself and find enough strength to lock her legs a little so that her back could slide down the cool vertical surface of the counter with a semblance of control. The contact of her ass on the floor made her groan as the shockwave set of both sensations of pain and pleasure on nerves that begged for respite. She lifted her head with effort as she drew up her knees and wrapped her arms around them and hugging them to her chest. She saw him standing a few feet away from her. His cock still hard, bobbing and twitching; its length glistened with her grease and she watched as a string of his semen, which still clung to tip stretched out and then fell to the floor. She could see his hands clench and unclench at his side. The scar on his chest was red and heaved with his heavy breathing. His eyes looked a little wild and very shocked, his jaw clenched and his nostrils flaring. He dripped sweat and she could feel little rivulets and droplet sliding down her skin too. She simply stared at him, stunned and shell shocked at what they had just done and then and lowered her head to rest it on her knees, letting the wild mass of her hair slide forward to cover her face. Lois didn't know how long they stayed like that, but when she started to make sense of the world again, her heart had stopped its trip hammer beat and she was shivering as the sweat had dried and cooled her skin. She drew in a long, slow, shuddering breath, held it and then slowly let it out. She felt drained and she ached. She lifted her head, sweeping her hair back with her hand to find him almost exactly where and how she had left him, except he was no longer hard and he was holding up his hand, looking at that damned ring of his in confusion. She gathered her strength and reaching up, used the counter to pull herself to her feet. She managed it, but stumbled slightly. He made a move as if to reach for her, but she shot him a warning glance and he stopped as she regained her balance with the support of the counter. The silence between them drew out as she waited for her legs to steady and the ache to dull to a pulsing discomfort. Lois was conflicted. She didn't know whom she was angrier with, herself or him. The night she had spent with him had been magical, and she had been vindicated with he decision to trust him, but then he had betrayed that trust, hurt her to some extent, by doing exactly what she had asked. She raked a hand shakily through her hair, an action he mirrored a moment later. "Lois, I..." he started and she held up a hand and waved him to silence. She was still trying to figure everything out in her head and anything he said would just add to her already chaotic thoughts and the turmoil she was trying to deal with. He tried to continue, but she kept her hand up, looking away from him and he faltered back into silence. She could see frustration on his face, but she couldn't do anything about that she needed to deal with her own issues first. He pulled on his sweat pants and after a glance at her headed to his bedroom. He returned a moment later and handed her the robe she had worn from the pool and she slipped it on with a slight nod of thanks. She noticed he'd put on the hooded top that matched the sweatpants while he was in the bedroom as he sat on the armrest of his sofa, facing her, his expression expectant. Logic and emotion warred inside her. She actually liked him, but she had seen a darker side to him, even if it had been one she had encouraged, but she now knew it was there. It surprised her how strong the temptation to stay with him was, to set aside her worries and fears and find out where else he might lead her. But, she had also discovered a side of herself that scared her even more than his dark side. A, wild, wanton, animal side that nothing to do with her impetuous, mercurial nature and that robbed her of the thing she prized most... Control. She needed distance and time she decided. There was just something about him, she had known it from the start and now that exciting mystery had caught up with her. Without, knowing what about him made her act the way she had, she couldn't counteract it leaving her with only one option. Explanations were pointless. What was done was done and couldn't be undone with words. "I need to go, Clark." She told him quietly and he rose to his feet. "But..." he started, but she cut him off. "I need to go, Clark." She reiterated in a slightly stronger voice and took a step towards his bedroom where her clothes were. She grimaced slightly as her hard-used muscles protested, both inside and out. "Lois... I'm sorry... I..." he stammered, his voice filled with emotion and she turned her back to him determined not to meet his large, steel blue eyes, lest they start to chip away at her resolve. "Lois!" he repeated forcefully, but she didn't turn as she entered his bedroom. She half expected him to follow her, to press the issue. A, small part of her hoped he would and maybe whatever he said would somehow allow the fairytale to continue, but he didn't and she dressed slowly. She checked herself in the mirror above his dresser, straightening her hair as best she could. She didn't look all that different, but the last fifteen or seventeen hours had changed her more than she was ready to admit. She squared her shoulders and walked out of his bedroom. He was again seated on the armrest of the sofa and he looked up from where he had been toying with the ring on his finger. "What is it with you and that ring?" she asked as she stopped in front of him. "Changed my life." He replied thoughtfully in explanation and then gave a wry, self-mocking chuckle that held absolutely no mirth, and this time, the haunted look in his eyes was unmistakable. She almost reached for him, but checked herself at the last moment. "I think, I can relate." She acknowledged. Clark seemed to shake himself, dismissing his mood and then he gave her a wan little smile. "Well. Lois, Lois Lane, I would really like to change your mind, but I don't think that I could, or should, for the best of all concerned." He informed her. "Thanks for not trying... I think." She said, feeling the tension between them lessen. "We could..." she started, but he shook his head. "I guess you're right." She agreed although she could see a spark of longing in his eyes. "There should be a cab waiting for you down stairs or at least it should be along shortly. I asked the doorman to call one." He informed her, rising to his feet. "What no limo? Well, there goes the whole Pretty Woman parallel." She enquired. "I thought we'd sorted that out when we decided you weren't a prostitute?" he countered and suddenly they were both laughing and the last of the tension faded away. They had reached a tacit, unspoken understanding and she was grateful that they could part on amiable terms. He ushered her to his door, walking next to her, their hips just barely touching. He opened the door and she stepped out of his apartment and turned to face him, one of them on either side of the threshold. Lois licked her lips, which felt dry. She leaned forward and he leaned down and they shared a soft, lingering kiss, with only the slightest hint of tongue, her hand resting lightly on his shoulder. "Goodbye, Lois. I... wish..." he said, and she placed a finger over his lips to stop him from finishing. "Goodbye, Clark." She said simply and turned and walked away. She felt his eyes on her until the elevator arrived and its doors closed behind her. "I wish things might have turned out different too." She said softly to her blurry, slightly distorted reflection in the steel of the elevator door as it descended. THE END