It’s the not quite the same: she’s not exactly his lost love, and he isn’t exactly her late husband. They are different people from each other’s memories, but so close the resemblance is both heartbreaking and heart-healing, emotions tangled up together that neither of them has time to separate and examine. Not tonight.
When her fingers curl around his cheek to kiss him he can feel the smooth gold wedding band that his Lois never wore against the underside of his jaw. When he nuzzles the curve of her neck her ever-observant eyes catch the threads of bright gray that were never in her Kal-El’s hair. And when he lifts her up to carry her out of the too-public viewing deck, she whispers, “Your room.” Hers was once theirs, and in a strange way she doesn’t want to tread on the memories of her own version of him, not any more than she already is.
She knew him longer in this sense, knows implicitly every place he likes to be kissed and nibbled, knows just how to drag her nails slowly up his back, knows exactly how to gently nip at his lower lip and make him draw in a heated breath. All with that impish, knowing smile. He had her for a mere two days, but his recall is perfect, and he remembers just how to knead the tension from her shoulders, remembers everything that made her sigh or moan. She, however, knows how it affects him when she breathes those sounds of pleasure against his ear.
There’s more a difference in their ages, this time. She’s ten years younger, around the same age as when he lost her, and in slowly undressing her he kisses every memory and every surprise. A flickering smile at the black satin slip that hugs her body under the blouse and skirt, memories of another her pacing a room on assignment in just the same kind of garment. Here, the lone freckle on her left breast that she’s always complained about, and there, an old scar on her arm from some childhood accident that didn’t happen in his world.
He eases the skirt down her long, perfect legs, and remembers to kiss her just there, alongside her knee, where her reaction is perfectly balanced between arousal and tickling. It makes her laugh huskily just the way he remembers. And then he slides his hands back up to lift the slip, her laughter dying away as her eyes darken with desire. To his surprise there’s a glint of metal at her navel, a small understated belly-button ring that his Lois never got. “This is … unexpected,” he murmurs.
She flicks that unruly lock of hair, what once she teasingly called the ‘super-curl’. “Hey. It was during my Bruce phase. I was feeling experimental.”
He smiles up at her, and it makes the lines at the corners of his eyes more evident – the ones he never grew old enough to develop, here. “Bruce was my experimental phase,” he replies softly, and kisses her there, letting his tongue trace lightly around her navel. Her skin is so sensitive that even his breath makes her shiver. For the barest instant he catches the slender ring in his teeth, tugging it oh so lightly.
Lois twines her hands in his hair and pulls him up to her, kissing him hard before hooking a leg behind his knee and rolling him over on his back. Surprise in his expression brings out triumph in hers, and she finds the fastening for his cape and tunic with the ease of long practice. Soon enough she has his chest bare, and there’s a new scar there, a jagged white line low down on his side. Must have been kryptonite; he was lucky to survive. First her fingertips trace the ugly mark, then she bends to kiss it and run the tip of her tongue along its twisty length. He shudders, and it’s his turn to tangle both hands in her hair. “God, Lois…”
She smiles wickedly. “I wonder if anyone else knows you like this…?” she asks in a husky murmur, licking a wet, hot line up to his nipple. He’s invulnerable to harm, not to sensation, and when she closes her teeth around it with a little more pressure than she’d use with a human lover, his growl of shocked arousal is her answer.
Lois stretches out atop him, kissing and licking and nipping, the ends of her wavy hair tickling his chest. She smells divine, the same mixture of scents from her shampoo and her perfume and just her skin, and he wants to taste her as she’s tasting him. But she’s found that spot at the hollow of his throat where his skin is thin, and she’s flicking the tip of her tongue over it as she lets her nails drag down his chest, and he arches up to her with a groan of pure lust.
She sits up a little, rocking her hips, only his uniform and her panties between them. He feels the same, hardening beneath her; for a moment she thinks he’ll be almost too big, the same thought she had the first time, but then she remembers that no, he’ll be perfect, he’ll fit her exactly and make her moan with even the gentlest sliding thrust.
His hands on her hips are the same, pulling her down for a tighter grind against him, and his eyes have gone that impossibly dark royal blue that means only one thing is on his mind right now. “You can feel how much I want you,” he murmurs, lifting his hips slightly. His right hand slips across her belly, his thumb dipping down to find her black panties already damp, and he rubs a slow teasing circle just where she needs it most. “I can feel how much you want me.”
Her eyes roll back, her whole body shuddering; more than once he liked to whisper that he could smell her, that sight and hearing weren’t his only super-senses, and that whenever she was this aroused he could tell even with both of them fully clothed and across the room from each other. As if that memory isn’t enough, he tells her in a voice gone rough with need, “Why do we still have clothes on, if we both know that?”
“I don’t want it over in half a minute,” she whispers harshly, but he hasn’t stopped stroking her through the panties and she’s getting close even now. There’s no hiding the way her body’s trembling, the sensation echoed in the very place he’s taunting even now.
“Was that ever a problem between us?” he asks, an honest curiosity, and she remembers that he doesn’t know, he had only two days with her, he doesn’t remember the nights she does…
A husky chuckle, then, her lips quirked up in that smile that’s almost a sultry smirk, her eyes darkening as he continues to stroke the satin. “With Kryptonian stamina? Not hardly,” she gasps, her breath stuttering for a moment before purring into another laugh, “But you had a habit of trying to overload my senses quickly and then drag out the second time just because you knew it would drive me crazy.”
“I’d love to do that,” he replies hoarsely, still teasing her, “but if you want it slow the first time…” With that he removes his hand, making her whimper at the loss. Instead Kal-El strokes her long lovely thighs, caresses her hips, lets his hands wander upward. His breath is still ragged, his eyes still burn with the fire of lust, but he’s letting her set the pace. And if she wants it slow, then he’ll happily seek out the places that make her sigh instead of gasp. After all, they have all night…
Part of her wants to protest; she’s not used to a Kal-El who acquiesces so easily. Her husband wanted her, and she loved to tease him a little, make him chase her. The rest of her knows that if they take it slow, the eventual climax will probably register on the Richter scale. So she smiles wickedly, swiveling her hips slowly against him, and catches his hands to bring them up to her breasts.
It feels so good after so long to have his hands cupping them, caressing them. He must know how sensitive her nipples are, because he avoids them for the moment. Still, every move he makes causes the satin of her slip to slide against them, and Lois bites her lip at the sensation. Her resolve is weakening, making her want to grind harder at the length of him beneath her. At just the right angle, she could probably get enough stimulation bring herself off that way…
He notices her rhythm quickening, and chuckles. “I thought you wanted it slow?”
“A woman has the prerogative … to change her … mind. You make me wonder … just how well you knew,” Lois tells him huskily, taunting him even as her body burns. The flame inside her grows stronger; she wants to watch him watching her, see the look on his face when she moans his name. It’s been years since she’s felt this undistilled lightning in her veins. Savor this for the cold nights ahead. If they make it. From this alone, both of them still half-clothed, but he turns her on so much she’s as impatient as a teenager.
“I have another idea,” Kal-El tells her, dropping his hands to her hips. No warning before he moves her. Lois loses her balance when he picks her up off of him, giving a startled yelp and falling forward. Her hands brace against the wall above his head as he positions her over his mouth. Lois’ entire being narrows down to this when she realizes what he means to do. He’s still holding her up, but she can feel his breath against the insides of her thighs as he murmurs, “The next morning, when I tried this, you told me it wasn’t enough for you. And this way I know it won’t be over in half a minute.”
A reactionary hiss then before she can speak. “Oh you bastard,” Lois growls at having her own words tossed back at her, but then his tongue presses against her through the soaked satin and she moans loudly.
“You taste just like I remember,” he whispers, and licks her again. Lois struggles against his grip as he nuzzles her, wanting more and wanting it now. The panties have become the bane of her existence, dulling the feel of his lips and tongue, and when he nudges them aside she surprises herself by whimpering shamelessly.
“Please,” she gasps, and he sets her down all the way just long enough to rip the panties at the seams and toss them aside. Now he can plunge his tongue inside her, taste her deeply, or lap softly at her, and she feels every exquisite motion.
Soon Lois is shuddering, crying out, her arms and legs trembling, yet unable to find release from his mouth alone. Even more frustrating, he’s holding her up again, so she can’t grind down against him, can’t move away, can’t get an ounce more sensation than he’s willing to give her.
However, there is a way of dealing with Kryptonians who think themselves sly. Her trapped expression gives way to one of pure deviltry. And she’s never been one to concede defeat, not if she has an ace in the hole, so instead of leaning forward to brace against the wall, she lets herself fall back. His hands imprison her hips above his face, but she’s flexible enough to lean back and brace her hands behind her. She grips his thighs, eyes agleam.
It’s hard to concentrate with the tip of his tongue making tiny slow circles right there, but she manages to slide one hand up the inside of his thigh. Lois takes hold of him, squeezing tight through the material of his uniform, and his startled groan vibrates against her sex. A storm rising inside her, his every movement has her gasping and shivering, but Lois stays focused on lustful revenge. She rubs her open palm over the length of him through the material of the uniform, keeping to the same slow rhythm he’s using on her. “Mmm … that feels familiar.”
He shivers beneath her with an inarticulate growl, as caught up in the spell of desire as she is, and the next thing Lois knows she’s on her back beneath him, thanks to super-speed. The hand she was using to tease him is pinned above her head, his powerful hand capturing her delicate wrist, and he’s looking down at her with lust and amusement in his eyes. Lois shudders, her spine arching, and Kal-El smiles wickedly at her. “I guess this is familiar, too?” he taunts, his voice husky.
The way she smiles is the worst kind of enticement. “I always loved it when you brought your powers to bed…” Lois whispers back harshly, writhing against him. Just because he has her arm pinned doesn’t mean he’s the one in control.
“Is that so?” he murmurs contemplatively, and his eyes flare red for an instant. The briefest flicker of warmth at each shoulder, and the straps of her slip are simply gone, vaporized by heat vision. He grins as he slides the satin down, baring her chest, listening to the way her breathing grows harsh. Her hazel eyes have gone almost green, his memory flaring brightly with the sight.
Kal-El leans down to kiss her breasts and Lois gasps as he takes her nipple in his mouth. So sensitive there, and he knows it, his tongue circling slowly and deliberately, his eyes still fixed on her face. Lois grits her teeth against a pleading whine when he intensifies the torment, but she can’t stop the way her brows draw together, the way her hips buck greedily. The stronger he draws on the tender skin, the closer her tether on control comes to snapping. She’s shaking when he draws away to continue his attention to the straining peak of her other breast, her defenses shattering. Her breath hisses through her teeth as the hunger for him overtakes her, her need flushing her face.
Kal-El can’t resist the temptation any longer, either. He releases her for one instant, and then his uniform is gone, his warm bare skin against her thighs, the glorious heat of him pressed close. He catches the slip in one hand and tugs at it, the satin parting along the seams with a low purring sound. As he casts the fabric aside, Lois wraps her legs around his waist without hesitation, no longer caring about making it last. Nothing can stop the needy whimper in the back of her throat as she rises to meet him. Oh God, the look on her face… “Please, Kal-El, please, I need you, I want…”
The first time he’s heard that name in her voice since those two days so very long ago, and time vanishes for him. She’s not another Lois – she is Lois, the one, the woman he loves so much his great heart trembles with the force of it. “Yes, Lois – my Lois,” he mutters in a voice thick with lust, and then he’s adjusting her thigh slightly, and then…
It’s been too long, far too long, and the moment they’re fully joined is like coming home after long exile. Perfect; God, so achingly perfect, the way they fit together. It always was, always will be. She has enough time to look him in those beautiful eyes before she breaks. The world shudders violently then, swift and sharp, and she’s flying again, flooded in light. Lois cries out helplessly in fulfillment, her voice breaking high and loud as the sheer sweet rightness of it overwhelms her. For an instant he hesitates, and by the startled look in his eyes he must think he’s hurt her. A small smile curves her lips. How is it that, in this world and another, he always thinks that the first time? That simple gesture makes her want him all the more. It’s all she can manage to raise a hand to his cheek. “Please… Don’t stop, don’t ever stop,” she pleads breathlessly, and that’s all the reassurance he needs to lose himself in her.
For a few more moments she has her legs wrapped tightly around his waist, pressing him closer with each thrust, and his eyes are caught between yearning for the past and longing for the future. Time ceases, then blends. In this hidden fusing of lost years, they simply are. And when the moment comes, the intimacy between them is like a wash of silver sunlight too bright to withstand. Again, again, and again, blinding in its intensity. When he buries his face against her neck with a shuddering groan just seconds after her final wail, just as he always has, Lois bites her lip against tears that threaten. Mine, you’re mine again, at last I have you back, she thinks. Hopeless, helpless, it doesn’t matter that he isn’t of her universe just as it never mattered that he wasn’t of her planet, she loves him and always has, always will.
“Lois,” he sighs against her skin, and everything she needs to hear is in his voice.
The weight of him against her is perfect, the softness of his hair against her cheek just as it has always felt as they lay sprawled in bed. The perfect synchronicity afterwards. Just the same. She tries to hide the way her body shivers with emotion, twining herself around him protectively. One hand curls into his hair to pull him closer. Pressing her lips against his temple, her voice trembles only minutely when she whispers in to his ear, “It’s me. I’m here, Kal-El. I’m here.”
“Stay. Stay with me, Lois.” She nods, kissing his cheek, his mouth. He strokes her side, both of them twined so tightly around each other that they’re almost one being. No words are needed; the way they hold each other speaks loudly enough. Both of them tremble in the aftermath, but eventually grow still, their harsh breaths softening. Lois sighs, content at last. She could fall asleep here with him and not have nightmares, neither the past nor the future haunting her.
But sleep, it turns out, isn’t what Kal-El has in mind. He kisses her, gently at first, then with more intensity. Lois smiles against his lips and whispers teasingly, “Why yes, I would like seconds, thank you very much.”
“Good,” he replies, a chuckle in his voice, and his hands begin to roam her body again. The second time it’s sweeter, slower, absolutely an indulgence for them both. Afterward, sleep is the only option, and they sink into it gladly. As his eyes slide closed and he drifts away, Kal-El murmurs against her neck, “My Lois…”
She smiles tiredly, strokes his hair, and whispers, “Mine,” right back.
It happens with no warning at all, no time to prepare. Alarm klaxons wake them. The time estimate had to have been incorrect, only a handful of hours having passed since the last war council. Both of them wake with their hearts racing. There are the muted sounds of blasts and that’s when they remember where they are and what’s happening. Lois and Kal-El share looks full of dread. The clock has again begun ticking and their stolen moment is torn from them. The invasion is now, and everyone is being summoned to the battle.
Kal-El kisses her, once, his mouth quick and demanding. They don’t speak. She doesn’t trust herself with words, now, won’t say ‘goodbye’ for fearing of jinxing this and losing him again. He probably feels the same. Neither of them know if they’ll ever speak again, and last night’s last words are too perfect to be spoiled now.
Instead they have only a few hurried moments in which to get dressed, before J’onn is at the door to get her to safety and Kal-El has to join the fight. One last look as they part ways in the corridor, and their eyes speak volumes, words they have yet to voice for fear of what they could mean. I love you. Stay safe, his expression says to her.
Lois tries to convey her answer with a final glance. I love you too. Come back to me. And with that, he’s left her side and J’onn is hurrying her on to the safest part of the satellite until they can evacuate her, even as he knows that she’ll fight him on it. The déjà vu of finality threatens to bring tears again, but she pushes it away with the trademark Lane forcefulness. Now wasn’t the time. They both have a job to do and she knows her part to play all too well. They’ve done this dance with destiny more times than she can count, on separate worlds. He would be back. There’s no other option, she tells herself. And then, all too soon, the vivid crimson of his cape is lost to her sight amongst the swiftly-moving crowd and the war is on.