Kate (mskatej) wrote,

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Fic: Accidental Date

Title: Accidental Date
Rating: NC17
Pairing: Clark/Lois
Word count: 4,140
Spoilers: Vague for early S7
Notes: Set in the near future. This is late birthday present for bop_radar, who a while ago asked me for a Clois story with the prompt “Playstation”. Happy birthday K (and indeed, happy new year)! ILU. Beta read by radioreverie, who wisely made me rethink the absurdly shmoopy ending that somehow I originally came up with.
Summary: Dinner and a movie and some Playstation.
Feedback: Really yes.

Accidental Date, by Kate

When Clark enters the house he finds Lois sitting on the living room floor in front of the television, knees bent up, fingers moving frantically on the Playstation controller between her legs, shouting at the screen. He sighs and makes a mental note to start locking the front door when he goes out.

“Hi Lois,” he says.

No!” she screeches at the TV.

Clark grins and wanders into the living room.

“Thanks a bunch, Smallville. I nearly had him.” She throws the controller down onto the floor and glares at Clark over her shoulder. “You have a bad habit of doing that.”

“What are you even doing here?” he asks, kicking off his boots and sitting down on the couch.

Lois flops back until her head is resting on the seat of the couch behind her and shuts her eyes. “I needed some peace and quiet.”

“Yeah, well, Mortal Kombat is neither peaceful nor quiet, Lois. And can’t you play that at your own house?”

“I don’t have a Playstation,” she explains irritably.

“Do you come by a lot when I’m not here and just -- hang out?”

“Not a lot.” She opens her eyes and swivels her head around to look at Clark. “Wait, what do you mean by ‘a lot’?”

Clark furrows his brow at her.

“So,” she says, with a worryingly cheerful grin. “You wanna take me on?”

“Excuse me?”

“I know you’re scared of getting your ass kicked by a girl, Clark, but don’t worry. I’ll go easy on you.” She lurches forward and retrieves the other controller from the cabinet, then tosses it at Clark.

“Oh, no, Lois,” he moans. “I’m really not in the mood.” He’s just back from a disheartening trip to the bank, and if that weren’t enough to ruin his day, when he drove past the Talon on his way home, he saw Lex and Lana having coffee together. It took every ounce of his willpower not to stop the truck and go cause a scene.

What the heck is Lana doing with Lex? If they’re getting back together again Clark is going to be seriously annoyed. There’s only so many times he can go through this with Lana and it feels like he might finally be near his limit. She can have anyone but Lex as far as Clark is concerned, and while he’s never going to be over the moon about Lana’s future relationships, he’s pretty certain he’ll be able to do the honorable thing and stay out of them.

Unless it’s Lex. Who Lana knows is a bad, bad boyfriend. So why do they need to have coffee with each other?

“Get in the mood then!” Lois barks, firing up the game. “And what’s your problem anyway?”

She knocks him out before he even has a chance to get ready. “That’s what I’m talking about!” she shouts, punching the air.

“You cheated,” Clark tells her, sliding off the couch and sitting on the floor next to her.

“Lies! You just suck.”

She knocks him out again. “Dammit,” he mutters, attempting to focus. She’s pretty good at this.

After Lois wins the third round, Clark starts to feel petty. “I think you spend too much time practicing this game.”

“Now, now,” she chides. “No one likes a sore loser.”

Then he gets her! “Yes,” he hisses triumphantly.

“You got lucky,” she says. And knocks him out again.

Twenty minutes later Clark’s pride is in tatters and the best thing he can say about his mood is that at least getting his butt kicked at a stupid fighting game by Lois has kept his mind off Lana and Lex. And it’s not that he minds losing to a girl or anything; that he can handle. It’s the losing to Lois specifically that he finds infuriating, and he’s entirely sure that it’s all her fault. How can one person be so unbelievably obnoxious?

“Aw,” she croons, leaning over and ruffling his hair. “Are we feeling a wee bit emasculated, Clarkie?”

He grimaces and says sulkily, “You promised you’d go easy on me.”

Her answering grin is a little too cute to resist. Clark smiles back, and then they’re just beaming at each other for such a long time it starts to feel weird. So he laughs, and she laughs, and Clark finds that his mood has lightened considerably.

“Do you think Lex and Lana are going to get back together?” he asks her, suddenly desperate to talk about it with someone. Lois is actually pretty good to talk to about stuff like this.

“What the hell?” she asks. “Where did that come from?”

Clark sighs. “I saw them together today. Having -- coffee.”

“Is that what the kids are calling it these days?” she quips, not unkindly. “Clark, you really need to stop dwelling on things you can’t control. For a start, it was just coffee. Second, they were married to each other, which means they probably have a lot to talk about. Third, Lana is way too smart to get involved with Lex again. You know that.”

“Is she?” Clark says desperately. “She did it once and she was very clearly not over him when she was with me. Did you see that surveillance room of hers?”

“I heard about it.”

“See! She’s obsessed with him. I mean, she says she hates him, but … I'm not so sure. Maybe…”

“Maybe nothing,” Lois cuts in. “You don’t know anything for sure. And for the love of God, when are you going to get it into that thick noggin of yours that she is not your responsibility?”

Never, Clark thinks.

“You know what you need, Clark?”

He looks at her miserably.

“You need to find yourself a new girl.”

“Ugh,” is all Clark can say to that.

“That’s the spirit,” Lois retorts. “Come on, Clark. You’re not horrible to look at. You have great arms and – big…hands. I’m sure you could find someone who wouldn’t have a problem with the whole --” she waves her hand up and down his body critically. “Plaid thing.”

“Thanks,” he replies, slumping.

“Cla-ark,” Lois croons. “You’re starting to freak me out. Come here,” she takes his face in her hands and turns it towards her, forcing him to look at her face. “I’m just kiddin’ around.” She smiles at him kindly, and whispers, “I actually think you’re very handsome.”

It makes him laugh and maybe blush. “Thanks,” he says again, meaning it this time.

“Good!” She says, taking her warm hands off his face and looking pleased with herself. “You ready for another round?”

Clark shakes his head vigorously. “Really not.”

“Chicken.” She starts picking herself up off the floor. “Well, then I guess I’ll…” she looks over at the door then back at Clark.

“No, stay,” he says, a little too quickly. “We can do something that doesn’t involve you winning. You wanna watch a movie?”

Lois makes a show of considering it, then grins and jumps onto the couch. “Sure. But I get to choose it. And you’ll probably have to feed me. And can I stay here tonight? It’s just, the weather is terrible out there and I nearly skidded off the road on the way here and it’s only gonna get darker and windier, especially if I stay for dinner and a movie, and you wouldn’t want me to crash my car and die, would you Clark?”

Clark frowns. “You’re a very demanding person, Lois.”

“If you don’t ask you don’t get. What’s for dinner?”

Hmm. What does he have in the cupboards? Clark stands up and walks over to the kitchen. He’s got plenty of food but not a lot of desire to cook.

“How does macaroni cheese sound?” he yells.

“Delicious!” Lois yells back.

Okay then. That’s not too complicated.

“Where are your DVDs!”

“We don’t have many! They’re in the cabinet under the TV!”

“Found ‘em!”

Clark starts grating cheese and wonders which film Lois will choose.


“Titanic? Really?” Clark says, popping Lois’s plate down on the kitchen table in front of her and looking at the DVD she’s got in her hand with a grimace.

“Yes, but you’re not allowed to tell anyone. If it got out that I like this movie my reputation would be ruined.”

Clark laughs. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

“Oh come on, Smallville, admit it. You love it too.”

Clark shrugs. “It’s long.”

“So what? Have you got somewhere else to be later?”



They eat their macaroni and, amazingly, Lois is an even faster eater than Clark is.

“Done!” she crows, slamming her fork down on the table.

“Not everything’s a competition, Lois” Clark says disapprovingly, inwardly cursing himself for having lost to her yet again.

“I’ll make the popcorn while you finish eating. Then you can set up the DVD.” She leaves her plate on the table and starts opening the kitchen cupboards and peering inside each one. Once they’re all open she turns to Clark looking worried. “Where’s your popcorn?”


“You don’t have any?!” she says, eyes wide with panic.

Clark winces. “I don’t think so?”

“Well, I suppose these will do,” she says, grabbing a bag of Cheetos out of the cupboard and heading back to the living room. “The theme for tonight is cheese.”

Clark coughs to hide his giggle, and starts clearing everything up and shutting all the cupboard doors.

Once they’re on the couch and the lights are out and the film has started, Clark takes the opportunity to look at Lois, her rapt face shining in the flickering light.

She’s really kind of gorgeous.

Shoot. Did Clark just think that? He twitches and turns his attention to the movie, but he’s tense now, and very, very aware of the small gap between their bodies, the way Lois’s hair smells of coconuts, and the soft sound of her breathing.

Half an hour into the film and Clark still isn’t able to concentrate on it, nor is he able to relax. The temptation to yawn and throw his arm around Lois’s shoulders is absurdly strong, but how can he? It’s Lois. The last girl in the world Clark would ever be interested in like that. She’s brash, loud and bossy. Not remotely his type.

There are some things he likes about her, Clark supposes. Underneath it all, she’s got a good heart. Plus, she’s loyal and she’s smart, and she’s really funny; there’s probably no one in the world that makes him laugh the way Lois does.

“What are you smiling at?” Lois asks, and Clark realizes she’s looking at him.

“Nothing,” he says quickly, staring intently at the screen.

Out of the corner of his eye he sees Lois eyeing him suspiciously, as she pulls her legs up under her, rocking back and forth until she’s comfortable. Closer to Clark now, arm touching his, heat from her body almost as distracting as the way she…looks.

Clark finds himself gazing sidelong at her chest and gulping. Those breasts

“Hey!” Lois shouts, leaning away from him and punching him in the arm. “Are you—” She lowers her voice to a near-whisper, for no good reason Clark can think of. “Are you checking me out?”

“No,” he says uncertainly, eyes fixed on the floor in front of him.

“You were too.”

“I didn’t mean to.”

What?” She sounds outraged but also a little bit amused, which makes Clark want to giggle. “Stop smiling like that!” Clark bites his lip. “Pervert.”

“Hey, I’m not a—” Or is he? “I’m not usually. It’s just…”

“It’s just what,” she demands.

“That shirt is…” Oh man, how does he finish that sentence inoffensively?

Lois is looking down at her chest with a frown. “What’s wrong with this shirt?”

“Nothing! It looks really good on you.” Clark rolls his eyes at himself. Real smooth, big guy.

But Lois has a small smile on her face now, and is looking quite pleased. “It’s pretty old,” she says casually, like she’s trying to pretend Clark’s compliment hasn’t affected her.

Encouraged, Clark continues. “Those jeans look good on you, too.”

Lois swats his arm and tells him to shut up, but she’s blushing. Which means she’s enjoying his attention. Would this be a good time to put his arm around her?

Except that she’s gone totally still and is staring at the television, knees bent up under her chin, her arms wrapped around her legs.

Oh God, oh no. He’s made her uncomfortable. Things are never going to be the same between them again. He’ll never live this down.

“Sorry, Lois,” he whispers, as apologetic as he’s ever been. “I didn’t mean to—”

She whips her head around, stares into his eyes, and Clark has absolutely no idea what she’s thinking. “Sorry,” he says again.

He expects her to make some kind of wisecrack, or punch him in the arm again, or worse, go back to watching the movie without saying anything. But she just keeps staring at him until Clark’s body starts to tingle with anticipation and he forgets that he’s meant to be feeling sorry. He’s certainly not meant to be feeling all sexy. And he’s not meant to be swaying towards her the way he is.

“Clark,” she says softly. A warning.

“Yeah?” he murmurs.

“You’re looking a little amorous there, buddy.” She doesn’t exactly sound like she minds though and she’s not moving away from him. “Maybe I should go.”

He’s got his head bent towards her, face close to her face, breathing in her scent, basking in her warmth. “Don’t go.” He hears her swallow, sees her eyelids flutter, moves in for the kiss.

Lois moans against Clark’s mouth when he kisses her, and miraculously, doesn’t push him away or slap him or laugh at him. Just kisses back and lets Clark pull her into his arms.

With Titanic as their backdrop, Clark kisses Lois gently at first. Then, as they get used to each other’s mouths, more passionately. And when she climbs up onto her knees and throws one of her legs over his lap, their kisses become wetter, hotter. Feverish. He can’t take it much further than this of course, which is going to be horribly frustrating, but it’s not like he’s got a choice. She might not seem it, but Lois is as physically fragile as Lana is, and that means that going all the way with her would be…possibly a bit dangerous.

Clark really wishes his cock would have more respect for that possibility than it does, because at this point he’s not feeling as concerned as he should. Oh man. The way she’s moving. Up and down…sliding…her crotch…on his…

And he is really hard now, moaning and thrusting against her gently.

Lois pulls back and gasps, “This is crazy!” The next bit is muffled because she’s kissing Clark again, but he distinctly hears her say, “I don’t even like you!”

He clutches her arms and jerks her away from him. “What! Yes you do.”

“Shut up!” And with that, she’s wrapping her arms around his neck, lips jammed onto his lips, tongue sweeping over his tongue, breasts pressed against his chest, grinding down onto Clark’s erection. “Mmm,” she hums appreciatively, kissing her way up his cheek, flicking her tongue over his ear. Whispering, “Hard.”

Clark bucks up and holds onto her tight, keeps humping her, hot and turned on and not remotely willing to stop. “Yeah. We should stop.”

And he doesn’t mean it; in fact, he’s beginning to wonder if it really is necessary for them to stop.

“Yes, we should stop,” Lois pants, popping a couple of buttons on her shirt so her cleavage is right there in front of Clark. He has a memory of this. Of that time when he was high on red K and the two of them fooled around. He’d not been afraid to have sex that night, he remembers. Hell, the only reason he stopped what they were doing was because of Lex and Lana and their stupid engagement party.

Nothing needs to stop him now though. Not Lana and not fear. Lois feels so good, and her skin tastes amazing, and she’s clearly into him, into sex. And God, she’s the best kisser.

He lifts her up off him and lays her down on the couch, popping the rest of her buttons quickly and opening up her shirt so he can see the rise and fall of her breasts, and the shimmer of her belly. He bends his head and plants a kiss on her stomach, next to her hip bone, then he moves up her body with kisses, reaching her cleavage and pulling at her bra so both her breasts pop out, nipples standing at attention.

Glancing up, he feels reassured by Lois’s hooded gaze and sleepy smile, so he takes one of her nipples into his mouth and sucks on it gently, the other he squeezes between his thumb and forefinger.

Oh,” Lois moans above him, reaching for him, pulling at his shirt.

Excellent, Clark thinks. Lois is trying to undress him.

He sits up on his knees and starts unbuttoning his shirt, watching Lois sit up and remove her own shirt, then reach behind herself to unhook her bra.

As she flings it aside, Clark hears himself make a noise, probably closer to a growl than anything else. He shucks his t-shirt and grabs her, tugging her close and kissing her hungrily.

Should he stop this? It’s gone much further than he’d intended it to go, but really, how could anyone blame him? He’s pretty sure he’s never met anyone this sexy before.

Clark really, really wants to touch her. Between her legs. He wants to know if she’s…wet. But she might think him too forward if he tries to take her jeans off, so he contents himself with sliding his hand down over her perfect, round, denim-clad ass and squeezing. A bit further, fingers slipping between her legs, and it’s hot, almost humid, but his fingers aren’t getting wet and he wants them to be wet.

“Do you have protection?” Lois whispers, hoarse and horny, hand on his dick, hot damp breath on his ear.

“Upstairs,” he says, a little shaky, a little uncertain. If they go upstairs, if he gets the protection, there really is no turning back. He supposes he could do it for a while and then stop before he orgasms. Couldn’t he? Because it’s the orgasm that’s problematic; when the pleasure gets so intense that he won’t –- no, not won’t. He might not be able to control his body.

“Come on then, big guy. Take me upstairs.” She climbs off the couch and stands next to it, shirtless, bra-less, hair wild, beautiful.

He should say no, but he can’t. He just can’t.

Jumping off the couch with new, eager resolve, he lifts her into his arms, and she wraps her legs around his waist. One hand under her ass, the other supporting her upper back, he kisses her and strides, blind, over to the staircase, up the stairs, the heat between them making him dizzy with want.

In his bedroom, and he doesn’t bother shutting the door behind them -- Lois is the only uninvited guest he ever has these days -- he lays her down onto the bed and is just about to climb on after her when she starts pushing down her jeans rather frantically.

Strip,” she commands, kicking her jeans off the bed.

The sight of her is so incredible Clark feels the need to pause and look and drink her in for a moment. Long legs, smooth toffee-colored skin, the soft, sexy curves of her hips and belly, big, beautiful breasts, and she’s wearing nothing but little white cotton panties. He unzips himself and pushes his jeans down, stepping out of them in a lustful daze.

She hasn’t taken her panties off but Clark doesn’t really care about what’s appropriate anymore. He shucks his boxers and climbs onto the bed, straddling her, looming over her, kissing her deeply.

When they part she gasps, “Where are your condoms?” But he ignores her and slides his hand down her belly instead, slipping them underneath the material, over the soft curls of her pubic hair, between her—oh God, yes, so wet—legs.

He’s inside her, fingering her, and she’s arching her back off the bed and groaning. Saying his name. Clark, oh Clark, and it sounds good, she feels good. She feels perfect. Pushing at her underwear in an attempt to get rid of them, so Clark will have better access, so she can spread wider for him, so they can be naked together, so Clark can make love to her.

He helps her, peeling off the sodden panties, pulling her legs wide apart and crawling between them. As he kisses her, the head of his cock makes contact with her pussy, slick and inviting. He starts to push.

“Clark, wait,” Lois gasps. “Condom!”

Oops. “Sorry.” He’d totally forgotten about that. He pulls himself free of her and climbs off the bed, reflecting on how it had felt to push the head of his cock inside her and resisting the desire to just get back on the bed and go all the way this time, condom be damned.

“Hurry!” Lois urges.

Where did he put them? “I’m not sure where they—” Here. In the top draw of his desk for some unknown reason.

“Oh thank God. Please hurry, Clark.” She sounds so desperate Clark laughs, more high pitched than is normal for a guy, but then, he’s desperate too. With Lois on her back on his bed, naked and shining with sweat, legs bent and spread, pubic hair sodden with her desire, it’s a miracle that Clark hasn’t come all over the place yet.

When the condom is on, Clark climbs back onto the bed, back between her legs, and he lets Lois grab his cock and guide him into her body. She’s tight and slippery and hotter than any girl he’s ever known.

Her moans and grunts sound amazing to Clark, the roll of her body under his looks and feels incredible. The clench around his cock, the taste of her, the smell of her.

It feels right. It feels like he wants to do this forever, like he will never be able to live without it.

It feels like love.

He pulls them up into a sitting position, Lois bouncing in Clark’s lap, breasts swelling and rubbing against his chest; they stare into each other’s eyes. They kiss.

He watches her rise and peak, he watches her eyes widen as the pleasure becomes more intense, he watches her throw her head back at the same time he feels her vaginal muscles clenching around him. Her body spasms, and she sounds like she’s choking but she looks ecstatic.

Thrusting up a little more, a little harder, Clark remembers that he’s not supposed to have an orgasm. But he’s so close, he’s so, so close, and he can’t, God he can’t, he can’t stop, can’t stop, she’s so beautiful feels so good he loves her he needs her he needs this. “Ah, ah, ah!”

As he fucks through the bliss, he can feel Lois watching him, holding him, riding him, not breaking.

They sit together, burning hot and dripping with sweat, Clark still inside her, kissing her.

Nothing is said for a long while.

Eventually, she extracts herself from his embrace and collapses onto the bed. Clark falls down next to her, pulls the covers over them and draws her back against his body, spooning her and kissing her throat.

“That was not why I came over, Clark,” Lois says, but she sounds pleased.

“Mmm. I’m glad you came over,” he murmurs, cupping one of her breasts in his hand and pressing his cock between the welcoming cushions of her ass cheeks.

“So does this mean we’re, like, dating?”

He slides a hand down her stomach and nestles it between her legs, resting it there just because it feels nice. With a laugh, he says, “This is going to surprise everyone we know.”

“Oh God, Lana will probably have me killed.”

It shouldn’t be funny but if there’s anyone who can make him see the lighter side of his disastrous history with Lana, it’s Lois.

So, they’re…dating? Surely not. Surely he and Lois didn’t just have sex with each other. Surely he doesn’t feel happy about that. Surely this fearful feeling he’s got in the pit of his stomach is because he knows that was the stupidest thing he’s ever done, not because he might actually genuinely like her.

Surely these are things Clark can think about in the morning, after spending the night holding Lois in his arms.

The end.

Tags: fic, fic: sv
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