Title: Don’t Speak
Word count: 2,831
Notes: This is for estrella30 and bop_radar because I love you both SO MUCH that I wrote you *Clois*. And I also love toadstoolsmiles because she beta’d for me even though she hates Clois and she’s in the grumpiest mood of all time. Mwah! You guys rock my world!
Summary: Lois gets more than she bargained for.
Feedback: OMG yes please!
Don’t Speak, by Kate
Lois should not be drinking. She knows it. Chloe knows it. Everybody knows it, but they’re still drinking and Chloe is looking softer around the edges than usual and she’s having trouble with her sentences, which are coming out wonky. Or maybe Lois’s hearing is wonky.
“Clark is so funny,” Chloe slurs, grabbing Lois’s arm. “You know? You know how funny he is?”
Lois shakes her head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. You’re drunk.”
Chloe looks around the bar with a frown, as if the bar had just accused her of being drunk and not Lois. She then leans in and whispers conspiratorially, “I might be a little drunk. Shhh.”
“You were talking about Clark again,” Lois says expressionlessly. She doesn’t want to actively encourage Chloe to talk about Clark although she wouldn’t mind hearing more.
Chloe grins wide and leans back in her chair so far it nearly topples backwards, except it doesn’t because Lois is there to catch her.
“Can I tell you a secret, Lois?”
“Always.” Lois folds her arms across her chest and looks expectantly at Chloe.
“You can’t tell anyone, Lo. I mean it.”
Lois rolls her eyes. “I know that. Now spill.”
Chloe leans in again and her voice is low. “Clark and Lana broke up because he wouldn’t have sex with her.” And she follows that with a look that says, what do you think about *that* for great gossip, and Lois bursts out laughing.
“That’s ridiculous. How do you even know that?”
“He told me!” Thoughtful pause. “More or less. I mean, he told me that he was afraid of…” Chloe trails off. “I have to go!” she says suddenly. She leaps up looking rather alarmed, then exits the bar without another word.
Lois is confused and drunk and not liking Chloe very much at all right now.
Lois stares at herself in the mirror. What the hell is she doing? This is insane. A whole week has gone by and she’s still obsessing over that ridiculously brief-to-the-point-of-non-existent, drunken conversation with Chloe, about Clark and sex. About Clark not having sex. Because he’s… afraid. It’s making Lois crazy. All she can think about is sex now. Clark having sex. What he would look like. The image of Clark’s naked body has been imprinted on her brain ever since they first met and although she doesn’t allow herself to think about that very often, this week she’s thought of nothing else.
She can’t stop thinking about what Clark would look like with an erection. It’s ridiculous.
Today was the worst day yet. She’d run right in to Clark in the hall this morning, and Clark was clad only in a towel and his hair was wet from the shower, and it’s not like Lois hasn’t seen his chest before; it’s not like a week ago it would have bothered her, but it took her a good hour to recover from that. A torturous breakfast, with Clark frowning periodically at Lois because apparently she can’t stop staring at Clark’s mouth when he eats now. Something has to be done about this.
She focuses on her appearance in the mirror and nods. Hair down, low cut, skin tight vest on, nipples erect and clearly visible through the thin white cotton, pajama bottoms slung low on her hips and yeah, she looks hot. Lois applies a little lip gloss and ignores the voices in her head telling her that she is being very, very stupid.
It’s one in the morning and Mrs Kent will be fast asleep. Lois could swear Mrs Kent’s been taking valium these last few weeks because she’s so… calm.
They both are. It’s not right. It makes Lois want to cry.
She misses Mr Kent so much but her feelings are irrelevant. How she feels doesn’t matter. All that matters is Clark and Mrs Kent. She can’t even imagine what Mrs Kent must be going through.
Clark who can’t hold down a relationship because he’s… what did Chloe say again?
Clark and Lana broke up because he was afraid to have sex with her. Is that what Chloe said? It doesn’t even matter. Lois knows enough to know that Clark needs someone right now. And she’s here, and she… cares. Maybe not like Chloe or Lana cares, but she’s close to Clark in a way that they’re not. Clark doesn’t even like Lois, so he’s more himself around her.
She opens her bedroom door and steps out into the dark hallway. It’s so quiet she can hear herself breathing. She pads silently down the hall and stops outside Clark’s bedroom. Deep breaths.
Lois raps her knuckles lightly against the door.
There’s an unbearable stretch of silence then a low voice. “Hello?”
“Clark,” Lois whispers loudly. “Can I come in?”
Another long pause. “Yeah.”
Walking into Clark’s room in the middle of the night, wearing a top that leaves precisely nothing to the imagination is not what Lois ever thought she would end up doing when she met Clark, but she’s oddly determined to see this through. Whatever this is.
She closes the door behind her and walks over to the bed. The lamp on his bedside table is on and Clark is sitting up, looking at her like she’s crazy. It’s a look she’s seen a million times before and it makes her feel oddly comfortable.
It’s not a warm night but Clark’s not wearing a tee shirt, although she glimpses the top of Clark’s blue boxers where the duvet has slid down so Lois knows he’s not naked. Lois perches on the edge of Clark’s bed.
The bed is soft. Too soft. Not at all the sort of bed that Lois likes. She’s an army brat after all and hard mattresses are par for the course. Better for your posture too. Not that Clark has bad posture because he really doesn’t.
“What is it?” Clark asks, unconcerned but with a heavy voice. His eyelids are drooping but Lois knows he wasn’t sleeping. His eyelids droop a lot at the moment.
“Clark,” Lois says. If she starts talking the words will just come out, that’s her style. Don’t think just speak. “I’ve been worried about you.” Clark is about to roll his eyes so Lois keeps going. “I mean, I know you’re fine and you’re going to be fine and I know that, I do, but maybe you need someone – me, for example – to talk to. Not talk to exactly, but be yourself around. Your father died, Clark, and I’m not going to pretend anymore that everything’s fine because it’s not. You miss him and you –“
“Lois.” Clark cuts her off. “What do you want?”
Lois screws her face up and then turns towards Clark, shifts up on the bed, leans over and wraps her arms around him. It’s not the most natural progression to a hug that Lois has experienced but at least she’s made the first move.
Clark’s body goes rigid for a long moment then he tentatively puts his arms around her.
Lois clings and asks herself for the thousandth time what the hell she thinks she’s doing. But Clark doesn’t let go of her, he just holds her, then he talks softly into her hair. “I’m okay, Lois. Honestly.”
She pulls back so she can look into Clark’s eyes because that’s where the truth lies. He’s got a small smile on his face, his expression an odd mix of amusement, affection, sadness and… something else. It’s the something else that makes Lois lean in and kiss Clark.
It’s not surprising that Clark doesn’t kiss her back. . He just stares at her until Lois pulls away. But Lois isn’t a quitter and she’s not quite ready to give up on Clark yet. She holds his gaze and wills him to understand her. Says it with her eyes. Let’s do this, Clark. Maybe it will help. Lois puts her hands either side of Clark’s neck and pulls him back towards her, into another kiss and this time, Clark doesn’t resist. Clark has the softest lips Lois has ever kissed. And the way he kisses… gentle, rhythmic, the perfect amount of tongue and he tastes of toothpaste; Lois keeps her eyes open and watches Clark - whose eyes are now shut - getting lost inside their kiss. Her heart might burst in her chest.
And then Clark’s hand is sliding up her waist and his thumb makes contact with the underside of her breast. They break apart and Clark opens his eyes, and looks down at his hand as it slides up over Lois’s breast, thumb and index finger pinching her nipple through the vest, too hard. She hisses through the pain and Clark lets go and then pinches again, even harder. Lois moans loudly.
“Shh,” Clark hushes sternly, then he pulls at the bottom of Lois’s top with both of his hands, yanking it up and giving Lois no choice but to stretch her arms above her head and let Clark remove it. Then she’s being grabbed and flattened onto the bed and Clark is looming over her, grim look in his eyes, cheek muscles slack with arousal, one hand back on her right breast, squeezing it and rubbing his palm roughly over her aching nipple. Clark presses his mouth over Lois’s other nipple and swirls his tongue around it, then kisses it wetly. It feels amazing and Lois is arching up off the bed and she’s got her hands in Clark’s hair. He starts to suck intensely hard, almost like he’s trying to milk her - a thought Lois finds so disquieting, she puts it out of her mind immediately. Which isn’t difficult with Clark now biting her nipple and pulling at it with his teeth and it hurts but… she doesn’t like this, she can’t like this pain and yet… oh God… *Clark*…
He kisses her again, on the mouth, and moves his body over hers. Lois can feel Clark’s erection digging into her thigh and a big hand sliding between her legs, rubbing her roughly through her pajamas, right on her clit. She knows if he does that for much longer she’s going to come and she starts bucking into the touch, willing him not to stop. “Clark,” she moans but Clark just hushes her again.
Lois supposes it’s because he doesn’t want her to wake up Mrs Kent but really, he can’t expect her to be silent. Not when she’s so close, so close, and then Clark’s hand is gone and that makes her moan even louder than before. Clark claps a hand over her mouth.
“Lois,” he whispers. “You’re not allowed to make any noise. Do you understand?”
This isn’t Clark. It’s not Clark. He would never talk to her like that, but - and Lois hates herself so much for this - she really likes it. She’s nodding before she even knows she’s doing it.
The next thing happens fast. Too fast. But Lois is still too close to orgasm to process it, or even really care. She and Clark are both naked all of a sudden. Clark’s long fingers are sliding inside her, and she’s spreading her legs as wide as she can but for the life of her, she can’t remember how they got to this point. Clark’s hand feels so good, she’s so slippery, so hot, it doesn’t matter how they got to this point. As long as Clark keeps doing what he’s doing. Oh. God. It’s hard not to moan, it’s even harder not to talk. Lois wants to say something but Clark is looking at her like he’s in charge and like she better not forget that.
Oh, oh God, Clark’s going to make her come, just with his fingers and that look on his face. This annoys Lois so much, on so many levels, and… ah… oh sweet Jesus. She tightly grips Clark’s bicep in her left hand as the orgasm takes hold of her and Clark puts a hand back over her mouth, muffling her cries, his other hand still working fingers in and out of her, wet palm sliding over her clit again and again, causing her orgasm to go on and on. Lois thinks she might never stop shuddering.
She knows it’s finally over when Clark takes his hand off her mouth and says in a low hard voice, “I told you not to make any noise.”
He sits up on his knees and rolls a condom down over his cock which is so hard it’s pointing at the ceiling. Where did he get that condom from? Is Lois blacking out or something? She feels like she’s lost a few memories. She doesn’t remember taking off her pajamas or her panties and she doesn’t remember Clark taking of his boxers. She doesn’t remember Clark getting a condom out of… where? His wallet? His bedside table?
But these things are irrelevant in the face of what’s happening right now. Clark kneeling between Lois’s bent legs which are still spread wide and he’s rubbing the head of his cock, his big cock, around the slippery entrance of her pussy, watching himself, and it’s the hottest sex Lois has ever had but it’s possibly the least romantic.
Clark pushes inside her; one long, slow thrust and he closes his eyes. Lois wraps her legs around him and pushes hard into Clark’s groin and fuck, he’s really big.
This is going to hurt.
“I was too big for Lana,” Clark whispers, opening his eyes and looking into Lois’s. “I really hurt her the first time.”
Too big… Ha… Yes… Lois’s eyes start to water, but at least this explains what Clark was afraid of. Hurting Lana because - ah - he’s so fucking big. He obviously doesn’t think Lois is as delicate as Lana because Clark’s found his rhythm and it’s slow but it’s not gentle.
Lois is getting the distinct impression that Clark couldn’t care less who he’s fucking just so long as he can fuck and fuck, but then Clark slows down a little and kisses Lois on the mouth again, closing his eyes as he does it. Tongue soft and warm and wet. This was the right thing to do.
Clark needed this and maybe so did Lois.
Six, seven more thrusts and Clark stops suddenly, groans, thrusts, another ragged thrust, another… Lois watches him intently... His eyes are screwed shut, his mouth is open, a few short sharp gasps escape from the back of his throat, and Lois never imagined seeing a man come could be so beautiful.
Clark’s body slackens and he rests his full weight on Lois. He’s so heavy Lois can’t breathe. “Clark-“ she gasps, voice strangled. He doesn’t move for another long, long second, then he pulls his cock out of her, rolls off her and falls onto his back.
Lois frowns. What the hell do they do now? This is the weirdest thing that has ever happened to her and that’s saying something because weird shit happens to Lois all the time.
She can’t imagine going to sleep here but wouldn’t it be rude to just go back to her own room? Oh God. This was such a huge mistake.
Chancing a look over at Clark doesn’t help either. He’s got his eyes closed and Lois can’t possibly believe that he’s asleep but he looks like he could fall asleep at any moment. He hasn’t even bothered taking the condom off. Cock now limp, condom wrinkled and in need of a rubbish bin but Clark’s not moving. This is really not what Lois was expecting when she decided to do this. Not that she really decided anything. She pretty much just acted on impulse. And a week’s worth of sex fantasies about Clark.
But this? Clark is not acting like Clark. And Lois feels kind of… used. Is she allowed to be pissed at him about that? He’s grieving after all, but seriously. He can’t treat her this way.
“You know what, Smallville. I’m just gonna head back to my own room now.”
Clark opens his eyes and looks at her and Lois would give anything to know what he’s thinking.
“Okay. We don’t want to give my mom a heart attack, after all.”
Lois winces at his choice of words and starts scrambling around on the bed, grabbing her clothes. She gets dressed as quickly as possible and leaves the room without a second look back. She knows what she’ll see anyway. Clark on the verge of sleep.
You’re welcome, asshole.
In the safety of her own room, Lois allows herself to unwind. Curling up into a ball, she clutches the duvet up under her chin, shuts her eyes and invites sleep inside.
Clark is such a loser. And he has a lot to learn about how to please a woman.
He’s lucky Lois is around to teach him.