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I was seated on the couch in the loft, my legs curled under me. After the visit from my Great Uncle Joseph I found myself spending more time in the loft. Clark had quite an extensive collection of material on the Kawatche; my curiosity about my heritage having been piqued. It was wonderful to lose myself in the old stories—stories I hadn't heard since my girlhood. Stories that I thought were a mixture of myth and legend.

My reading also served to take my mind off the terrible nightmares I'd been having. On many nights since Josephs' visit, I was awakened by variations of the same disturbing nightmare. It had gotten so that I was reluctant to go to sleep and revisit those horrible visions.

"Lois, can we talk?" Clark took my hand in his, and settled next to me on the couch. I knew that something had been on his mind and whatever is was it seemed to take a great deal of his resolve to broach the subject with me. He took a deep breath, measuring and calculating his words carefully, summoning the courage to finish his speech before he lost his nerve again. "Lois, I wanted to thank you."

I looked at him, and I was sure that my puzzlement showed on my face. I kept quiet, allowing him to continue. Hard for me, I know. "As you know, I was adopted. For years I worried about my real parents, what happened to them, why they chose to give me up. It even caused problems between me and my dad for a while."

"Clark, I had no idea. . ."

"Oh yeah, it got ugly." He reflected, and I could sense pain in his voice. "I love my parents, you understand, but I just had to know. I didn't mean to hurt them. They tried to understand, but I know I hurt them."

I nodded and placed my hand over his. I rubbed my thumb over his knuckles. Encouraged by this, he cupped his other hand over mine and then pushed on.

"I vowed if I ever had a child, that I would never let my son or daughter wonder about how I felt about them. Lois, I promise you, I will do everything in my power to always protect you and our baby."

"I know that Clark."

"This farm has been in my family for over 100 years, and I want that legacy to continue. Everything I have is yours, but I don't want to be a father on paper only." He paused a moment. I suppose it was to give me a chance to really hear what he was saying. He took a deep breath.

"Lois, I know you are an independent woman. And I don't want you to take this the wrong way, or to get angry with me. I don't even want you to answer right now. I want you to think about what I am going to ask next. Agreed?"

I nodded.

"I know you don't love me, but I'll make a good husband. Please marry me. Please let us have a chance to have a real family--Together."

"Clark." I whispered. My throat had gone dry, dry as a desert. How could he not know how I felt about him after all that we had been through? How could he doubt my feelings? Because you never told him, you idiot! My inner voice can be so blunt sometimes. I took his hand in mine and gave him a gentle squeeze.

"Clark—"

"No, don't answer yet. Just think about it."

"But, what if I know the answer already?"

"I don't know if I am ready to hear it."

"Even if . . . even if the answer is yes?"

"I hope the answer will still be the same after you hear the rest of what I have to tell you."

~ * ~ * ~

I remember telling him that I needed to sit down.

"Lo, you are sitting down."

"Oh. Yeah." I replied, detached, my voice sounding foreign and far away. In my hands was a silver and turquoise bracelet that I had not seen in many years--a bracelet that I hadn't thought about at all until my Great Uncles' visit. The bracelet that he told me he had given to Naman—given to Clark..

I don't know how long I sat there, just staring at him. He was serious.

"It all makes sense now. And the nightmare—that wasn't my nightmare—that's yours. The fear I felt—that's what you fear. I sensed it, I felt it." I walked to where he had stopped in front of the loft window, and placed my hand on his upper arm. I came around to stand in front of him and look into his eyes.

"Is that why Ella can talk to me? Is that why she can feel everyones' thoughts you? Can you read my mind?"

"No Lois, I can't read your mind. I'm not sure if we all have the same abilities. Kara can fly and I can't."

"Kara can fly?" I asked, still in awe.

Clark nodded, then he processed something he'd missed.

"Ella? Who's Ella?" Clark asked, perplexed.

"That's what I started calling her—I mean I couldn't just keep calling her baby. I was going to talk to you about it. Originally, I thought that Jonathan would be a good name for a boy, after your dad. Then when I started speaking to her and she was a girl, I had to pick a girls' name. If you don't like the name, then we ch--"

Clark favored me with one of his breathtaking smiles. "I love it. It was your moms' name, wasn't it?"

"You remembered?"

He nodded. I smiled at him timidly. "You sure you don't mind? The not asking you first, I mean."

"I think Ella is a perfect name for our baby."

"Good. It's settled. You can choose the name for the next baby."

"I can choose the name for the next baby?"

"Unless you want Ella to be an only child, but I think she might be lonely."

He pulled me into his arms so fast that I might have fallen over if not for his quick reflexes and super-human strength. I melted into him instantly; loving the feel of his arms around me, supporting me, loving me.

"Clark?"

"Hmmm?"

"You were wrong before—when you proposed to me."

He pulled away from me, and looked into my eyes, searching.

"You don't believe I'll make a good father? Is it because I'm an al-"

"No, not that. Of course you'll be a good father – an excellent father. I don't know that I'm going to get any awards for the worlds' greatest mother, but I'm not worried about you. You'll be perfect."

His fingers tugged at my chin, forcing me to look up. "I don't understand what you mean."

I swallowed hard. Why was it so hard for me to admit my feelings to him?

"I was talking about the other part; the part about me not loving you."

He cupped my check in his hand. His lips were soft when they brushed across mine; sending tiny shivers ricocheting down my spine, and I felt the corresponding tremors in his fingers. I brought my hand up to cover his, holding it there while we sustained a gentle kiss, so tentative, so necessary, and felt the world fall away around us. His lips coaxed mine to respond, stoking the liquid fire that burned through my veins like molten lava. I wound my arms around him, pressing my body to his as his mouth sought mine yet again. His tongue brushed against my lips, as though he were savoring the nectar of the rarest flower, tasting me, cherishing me.

Clark's breathing was ragged when he finally pulled back. He cleared his throat.

"I didn't know if you'd ever kiss me like that once you knew who I really was," he said, and his voice was husky with more than the simple rasp of a caress.

"You're still the same Clark Kent to me." I said, truthfully.

I placed my hands on his hard, flat belly, sliding them upward over the smooth planes of his ribs and chest, caressingly, tauntingly, feeling the heavy thud of his heart beneath my palm. His hands explored my body, the lightest brush of his fingertips fueling the fires of desire. His body molded against mine, until by the time he pulled away from the kiss, I felt boneless.

"Make love to me." I whispered, my voice thick with desire.

I sensed the trembling in his hands, and gripped him tighter in an attempt to calm his fears.

"Are you sure? I don't want to hurt you or Ella." he breathed in response.

"Clark, I'm not made of glass. You won't hurt me."

"But, I could . . . I don't know . . . I—"

I remember that I smiled at him. Yes, he certainly was the same Clark Kent.

"Something tells me we could go back and forth like this all day. Just relax. I trust you. I know you wouldn't ever do anything to hurt me—to hurt us."

Clark took my hand in his and lifted it to his mouth, his lips dropping gentle kisses onto the tips of my fingers. He leaned forward just enough to brush his lips across mine again. "You are the most amazing woman I have ever known." I could feel the color rising in my cheeks.

"I love you, Lois Lane."

And then he was kissing me again, inhibitions now freed by my silent admission of love for him. His tongue slid over my lips, coaxing them to part, full both of teasing and of promise. His mouth opened onto me, hot and insistent in an endless kiss of deep, raw hunger. He was panting when he finally pulled back, and looked down at the glow of my cheeks.

Then I became bolder, and pressed my lips to his throat. As the shudder pulsed through him, his eyes fluttered shut. Gently, I pressed into him, pushing him back against the sofa.

I was on top of him, hovering above him, our torsos melding together, and my hair, which had grown remarkably fast and thick during this pregnancy, whispered across his cheek and over his chest where it fell over my shoulder.

Clarks' eyes were on me, watching as I lowered my head again, dipping in to nip at the cleft of his chin. His eyes drifted closed again. "Lo--," he started, only to have it cut off in a gasp when my hands slipped down and unfastened the buttons of his jeans.

"Lois." He hissed in surprise.

"Sshhh,"

"Lo . . . please, honey . . . LOIS." I admit now that I ignored his attempts to gain my attention and I deliberately misinterpreted him. My hand tightened around his shaft, squeezing and stroking in an eruption of pleasure that drove the air from his lungs.

"Smallville, relax." I winked at him.

He was unbelievably hard.

Then, his mouth was back on me, sucking at the hollow of my throat. My eyes rolled back as I felt the nip of his teeth. I reached up to tangle my fingers in his hair. "Yes…" only to lose in it a hiss when his tongue began circling the hard bud of my nipple. I gasped again when his lips closed around the tip of my breast, sucking the nipple against the roof of his mouth.

His fingers were tentative as they danced down my sides, and he shifted his weight in order to lavish attention on my other breast.

I shuddered when he inadvertently brushed his arm over the tops of my thighs, in spite of the underwear that still separated me from his touch. It seemed forever as his tongue and teeth teased my breasts, leaving me squirming against him as the desire slowly bubbled and swelled inside me. When the heat of his body suddenly abandoned mine, my eyes flew open to see him kneeling at my side, hands working determinedly at his shirt as he peeled it from his shoulders. He skin was golden, kissed by the sun, his shoulders broad and his torso was lean and well-muscled. My eyes dropped to the slim line of his hips as he worked at unfastening the rest of the buttons of his jeans.

"Are you certain?" Clark asked.

"Certain."

He stretched beside me on the sofa and I could feel the long length of his arousal pressing into my hip. I wanted him inside me, but his earlier concerns about hurting me explained more than his constant questions. I knew that he was anxious, but now I finally understood the real source of his apprehension came not from inexperience but through fear of hurting me in the heat of passion.

"Touch me," I encouraged, and took his hand in mine, guiding it down my stomach to the waistband of my panties. Gently, I slid his fingers beneath the elastic, noting the wonder in his eyes as he brushed over the wiry curls.

My legs parted, the invitation for him to explore passing silently between us. When he slipped the first finger between my folds, sliding along the wetness he found there. My hands flew to my sides, digging into the cushions as if to root myself from flying away. One gentle stroke…another tracing the lower curve of my opening…another glide up the other side…and then he lightly brushed over my clit, sending an electrical shock up my pelvis.

My sharp intake of breath at the contact made him jerk away. I grabbed his wrist. "No," I said huskily, opening my eyes to look into his startled face. "Don't stop now."

"But…did I hurt you?"

"I'm fine." Releasing my grip on him, I hooked my fingers through the waistband of my underwear and pushed them down my legs, kicking them away to bare myself to him again. "You can…do it again," I said at his hesitation. "Please?"

The entreaty was all it took to ease Clark's discomfort, and he returned to his careful exploration with an intent that was almost frightening in its earnestness. With each caress, he grew bolder, and when I felt his breath blow warm and ragged across my outer lips, my flesh broke out in goosebumps.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured. When I felt his cheek settle on my lower tummy, I glanced down to see him gazing up at me.

"What?" I asked, suddenly self-conscious.

"It's nothing," he murmured. His hand in my heat never stopped moving, each stroke a frisson of fire through my thighs.

I didn't believe him, but it was obvious he wasn't going to say anything more, content in watching me react to his touch. When he slid a finger inside, I immediately clenched around him, and the groan that escaped my parted lips was unavoidable.

I responded by squeaking when he added a second finger, eyes dark with desire as they bored into mine. In and out he pumped, never breaking his gaze, and as the flames inside me escalated, he boldly brushed the pad of his thumb across my clit.

"Clark!" I cried out, bucking beneath his weight. For a moment, he disappeared, but his hand remained, and I twisted as he quickened the pace of his fingers. It was quickly becoming too much, and I groped to reach him through the haze he was creating in my head.

"Stop…please…" I gasped. "Want you…" As he began to climb up my length, I grew impatient, yanking him the rest of the way to slam my mouth to his. Hunger replaced caution, and almost immediately, his ardor matched mine, kissing me as if the world were about to end. My legs spread, wrapping around his waist, and I felt the tip of his erection nudging at my slick opening.

"Now…" I breathed.

There was resistance at first, his girth stretching me almost painfully as Clark pressed into me. His eyes were squeezed shut, the pleasure on his face was unmistakable as he sank into my heat. I let myself fall into the whirlwind his penetration created, drowning and swirling and floating as each agonizing inch filled the desire inside that had been screaming for him for days now.

It seemed forever before he was completely sheathed, and when he was, his forehead fell to mine, his breathless panting fanning across my cheeks. "I love you," Clark murmured. Re-capturing my lips, he began to move before coherent thought could manifest itself in my brain, groaning when I started to move with him. "Love you so much,"

"I love you," I whispered. Already so close to an orgasm before he'd entered me, each thrust only added to the crescendo, cascading in a riot of shivers and shocks before tossing me screaming over the precipice. My back arched as my inner muscles squeezed his shaft, a guttural cry being simultaneously torn from my throat.

Through the tremors wracking my body, I felt Clark speed his thrusts, his control gone in the wake of my pleasure. He stiffened, the muscles in his back straining with the force of his orgasm, each release deep inside me causing us to jerk in unison. My hands pulled him down, my mouth sought his, and before the quivering had stopped, we were kissing again, promising ourselves to one another without words.

He murmured "I love you" again into my ear, I smiled unseen as I stroked the hair at the nape of his neck.

And I could let myself love that. Because he couldn't hurt me.

Wouldn't hurt me.

He promised.