Title: CONSUMMATION

Author: SayItRight

Editors: bigblueplanet and hellokitty (from Kryptonsite)

Pairing: Smallville's Lois Lane and Clark Kent

Summary: After two years as a couple, Lois and Clark consummate their relationship. [Set post-"Pandora"]

Rating: M, NC-17, TV-MA, etc. - For sensuality and specificity, not vulgarity or profanity.

Warning: The following contains the explicit depiction of sexual situations between consenting adults. If you are too young or too much of a prude to handle that sort of thing, get lost. Excuse me: Get lost, please.

Disclaimer: With the sole exception of this original story, I own nothing. I claim nothing. I am not profiting. I intend no infringement.

Acknowledgments: To the Smallville writing staff, to Tom Welling, and, especially, to Erica Durance: Thank you, thank you, thank you for the inspiration.

Dedication: There is no Superman without Lois Lane. If you agree, then this story is for you.

Author's Note: The following is the first Lois and Clark story that I ever felt so strongly about that I had to tell it myself. As such, it is no idle indulgence. Please comment. Please critique. Please keep me honest.

CONSUMMATION

Part 1

"You wouldn't hurt me, Clark," she'd told him with her hand to his chest. He'd wanted to trust himself as much as she did, but he simply wasn't ready.

Her words echo in his head as he sits at his desk, failing miserably at being productive. She'd never explained what she meant, and in the year since they'd had that conversation, she hadn't pressed the issue. In fact, she was always the one to cut short their heavy make-outs and heavier petting - never resentfully and never insultingly, but rather with a gentle smile that spoke of her commitment to their relationship and to the line upon which they'd agreed.

"Do I have to do everything myself?" He looks up from his screen to see Lois turning the corner, scolding an unfortunate research assistant. "Just forget it. I'll call myself," she huffs, snatching a telephone list from the terrified young woman's hand. Collapsing into her desk chair, she grabs her landline from its cradle only to find the assistant still at her side. Cutting her eyes at her, she orders, "Dismissed."

As the young woman hurries off towards the elevator, Lois happens to glance across her and Clark's adjoining desks to find him looking right back at her, accusingly. "Do not give me the eyes. Not everything in life has to be sugarcoated. And incompetence should never be tolerated." Holding her gaze, he tilts his head to one side and sets his jaw. She doesn't back down. Neither does he.

After a long moment, she pushes back from her desk and stands. "Fine," she sighs with an exaggerated eye-roll, and walks off after the assistant to apologize.

Clark smiles to himself and shakes his head. No one who knew her professionally would credit the indefatigable Lois Lane with patience. But he knew differently.

She'd waited for him to mature into a man. She'd waited for him to realize how much she meant to him. She'd waited for him to tell her his deepest secret. And, now, when every mistruth and outright lie had been cleared away, when there was nothing left between them but their loyalty to each other, she waited still.

"Consider that the one and only guilt trip you get to send me on today, Smallville," she states, retaking her seat and picking up her extension.

He watches her as she dials number after number, trying to verify the details for her latest expose. She hates when he stares; she tells him so constantly. But that hasn't stopped him before and it certainly won't stop him now.

She scans the information on her computer as she waits for someone on the other end of the line to answer. Without bothering to look away from her screen, she tells Clark, "You're doing it again." Licking her lips and lowering her tone, she adds, "Keep it up and you're liable to burn a hole through me one day."

A shiver runs from his chest to his groin, and he coughs out a stilted laugh. He never can get enough of her flirtation. Nearly two years since they became official and she's never stopped flirting with him, never once dialed down her sass and sensuality - even with no end to their abstention in sight.

Regarding her still, he can't help but think of the solitaire ring that has been burning a hole in his pocket for months. He hadn't purchased it with any immediate plans in mind; he'd just wanted to be prepared should some perfect moment present itself.

Indeed, many such moments had come, and he'd let them all go. The issue of their physical intimacy weighed too heavily on his mind. He wanted her. He'd always wanted her - needed her, in fact. There'd been countless times when he'd been so lost in her touch, so intoxicated by her scent, that he'd forgotten the promise they made each other. But no matter how frenzied the circumstance, her hands to his chest - softly pushing against him - and his name from her lips - spoken with utter compassion - always brought him back to himself.

Beset by a clamor of contesting impulses, he is consumed by both the desire for her, and the fear of the damage he's capable of doing. And all the while, the ring in his pocket lingers in his thoughts, reminding him that he cannot presume to ask her to spend her life with him until the final wall between them comes down.

Shaking his head, he sets that thought aside and decides to trust her, even if he does not trust himself. Resolved, he takes in a steeling breath and slowly lets it out.

Sensing the change in his mood, Lois, fingers tapping away on her keyboard and shoulder bracing the phone to her ear, peers up at Clark to find him looking intently back at her. Raising her eyebrows, she asks, "What?" He shifts in his seat and begins to say something, but stops. "C'mon, Smallville, what is it?"

Unsure of how to verbalize the sentiment he wishes to express, he gets up from his desk to walk around it to her side, hoping that he'll have figured out what to say by the time he gets there.

Standing before her, he finds himself still at a loss. Growing impatient, Lois hangs up her phone and turns towards him, arms crossed. "Seriously, Clark, speak now or forever hold your peace."

Uncomfortable, he laughs at the irony of her statement and avoids looking her in the face.

Taking note of his discomposure, his trembling hands and knotted brow, she becomes concerned. She rises to stand directly in front of him, ignoring the bustle of Daily Planet employees trying to kill the final hour of the workday. Lowering her voice to a volume only his super-hearing can pick up, she asks, "What is it, Baby?"

With a small, knowing smile, he looks up from the floor to her eyes. She hardly ever calls him "Baby." It's too syrupy, she'd once claimed. But even then, he'd known that her protestations were insincere. She likes saying it as much as he likes hearing it. The only reason she uses it less often than any other nickname or endearment is because she wants it to mean something more when she does.

He shifts again and clears his throat. "Lois, I…I, um…" Suddenly, he is keenly aware of the dozens of noisy people around them, and he falls silent once more.

"C'mon," she tells him, taking his hand. "Let's get some air."

They walk out onto the roof of the Daily Planet, and into a cool autumnal breeze. Lois stops several strides short of the building's edge and Clark continues until he's leaning against the ledge, facing the sun. They'd long since discovered that no matter the situation, a few moments in direct sunlight helped with nearly any problem he had, even his mood. Taking in the late afternoon rays, his mind clears and his entire being swells with renewed vigor. "Are you cold?" he asks her over his shoulder.

Always such a gentleman. "No, I'm fine. Feel better?"

"Mm-hmm," he says, turning around to face her.

"Good, then let's have it."

He clears his throat, preparing to extemporize, but her interrogative nature gets the better of her before he can.

"Look, I'm not trying to rush you or anything, but you haven't looked this unsettled since you dropped the double-identity bomb on me, so you're kind of freaking me out right now. Is it bad news? It must be, right? If it is, I'd rather you just spit it out."

"Lois -"

"- Are you sick? Hurt?"

"No and no, Lois. I -"

"- Well then, are you stressed out? Or worried about something? This doesn't have to do with that mob story from last week, does it?" she asks, crossing her arms. "Because I'm not in the mood to go another twelve rounds with you over the dangers that come with our jobs."

Before he can think the better of it, he reacts to her latest accusation. "They did take you hostage, Lois. And even you admitted that trying to infiltrate that organization by posing as a stripper - which, by the way, I'm beginning to think is a favorite pastime of yours - wasn't exactly the best -" He stops short as she shifts her weight to one hip and sets her jaw, glaring at him. She's right, another twelve rounds isn't worth it. "Look, never mind. That's not what this is about, anyways."

Still in her power stance, she rattles off, "Well it can't have to do with us. I mean, we're good." When his face changes at the mention of their relationship, she panics. "Are we not good?"

Seeing where this conversation is quickly headed, he advances towards her. "Lois -"

"- What happened to make us not good? And how bad is it that it's reduced you to a bumbling idiot?"

"Lois -" he tries again, reaching out to her, but she takes a determined step backwards, distancing them. He's seen that move numerous times before. It's self-preservational, he knows, and never intended to hurt him. But no matter how heated their arguments or how justified she is in staying away, he can never bear the thought of her refusing his touch.

"- Are you breaking up with me? You are, aren't you? You're breaking up with me!"

"Lois -"

"- It took you years to get a clue and then months to finally ask me out, and now you're dumping me at the drop of a hat?" Rolling her eyes, "I think I'm gonna vomit. I just can't believe -"

"- Lois!"

"What?"

He doesn't speak at first. Instead, he lets the silence temper the exchange they've been having. When she looks as though she might start in on him again, he shakes his head, deterring her. She knows what he's doing. He's listening to her heartbeat and waiting for it to return to its normal cadence. She would give him a hard time about doing something so presumptuous, if she didn't find it kind of sweet.

Convinced she's calmed down, he tells her, "We are not breaking up."

"Yeah, well…fine," she squeaks out. Clearing her throat and regaining her composure, she adds, "It'd be your loss, anyhow."

"I know," he offers with both amusement and sincerity.

She smiles and laughs off his always-unsettling candor. Despite knowing that she understands how much he cares for her, he still makes a point of reminding her practically every chance he gets. Nearly two years since they became official and he's never stopped courting her, never once dialed down his charm and sentimentality - even with no extension to the length of her short temper in sight.

Changing gears, she asks, "Are we up here for any real reason? Or did you just feel like picking a fight?"

Locking eyes with her, he removes his horn-rimmed spectacles and confidently takes the three strides separating him from her. "Stop talking, Lois." He snakes one hand into the hair at the base of her scalp, and winds the other around her lower back. Without hesitation, he leans in to press his lips to hers and congratulates himself as her eyes flutter closed just before he makes contact.

Gingerly, he sweeps his lips across hers. Pulling her flush against him, he lightly nips at her bottom lip. With a soft moan, she eases her mouth open, granting his unspoken request. Tenderly, he massages her tongue with his. Deepening their kiss further, he dizzies at the sweetness of her taste - always of cherry and vanilla. Like Christmas candy, he'd once told her. Another moan bubbles up from her throat, and he returns it with one of his own. Her hands, firm against his neck, urge him on. But, instead, he eases his pressure on her scalp and leaves her with one last kiss before inching away.

Her eyes still closed, she purrs, "You know, Clark, if that was all you wanted, you could have just pulled me into the copy room like you usually do."

Brushing her cheek with the backs of his fingers, he summons his courage and, barely above a whisper, tells her, "That's not all I wanted."

Taken aback, she freezes. They hadn't broached this subject since the one and only conversation they'd had about it a year ago. At the time, she'd been thankful to find out that he hadn't been skittish because he was uninterested. But her relief came with the realization that he had serious concerns about harming her and didn't think he could cross that final line. "You wouldn't hurt me," she'd told him, without ever explaining her meaning. It was better that he figure it out in his own time. Now, out of the blue, he's acknowledging the elephant in the room.

She finally opens her eyes to meet his nervous gaze. Reluctant to jump to the obvious conclusion, she softly asks, "Are you talking about what I think you're talking about?"

"Yes."

Despite knowing how much it upsets him when she rejects his touch, she steps out of their embrace to gather her thoughts. He watches her aimlessly pace around the roof, her expression unreadable.

After several long minutes, she returns to where he's standing. Before speaking, she takes one of his large hands into both of hers. The therapist she'd seen a couple years ago told her that it's helpful when couples maintain some form of physical contact with each other during important conversations. It had something to do with keeping things in perspective and keeping that physical link, which symbolized the relationship, present at all times. Taking a breath, she asks, "Why now?"

"I don't know." When she doesn't immediately respond, he takes it as his cue to try again. "I'm not avoiding the question, or the answer, for that matter. It's just that…I really don't know." He glances down at his hand in hers and tries harder. "We were…we were sitting at our desks and I was looking at you -"

"- You mean 'staring,'" she offers with a warm smile. "Keep going."

He laughs a bit, relaxing. "Yeah. I was staring. And, uh…something just changed or…clicked, or something… And, you know, we agreed to be upfront about this kind of stuff, so I knew I shouldn't wait to tell you. And, now, here we are."

"Alright," she responds, believing him. "Have you thought about this?"

"I'm always thinking about this."

Feeling the blood rush to her cheeks, she corrects, "Th-That's not what I meant."

He smiles at her reaction. "Yeah, I know. You're asking if I've thought it through. And, yes, I have."

Leaving his hand in one of hers, she rests her other on his chest. She's never explained the gesture, and he can't remember when she started doing it. But it speaks volumes. "Are you sure, Clark?"

Shaking his head and answering her honestly, he admits, "No. Not really. Not absolutely." Bringing his free hand to cover hers on his chest, he looks her right in the eye and adds, "But I want to try."

Smiling, she wraps her hands around his neck and pulls him into a brief kiss. "Okay."

Relieved to have the hard part of the conversation over, Lois jokes, "I take it you don't want to do this right now? Seeing as we still have another half-an-hour of work left."

Challenging her, he leans down to nuzzle the sensitive spot at the base of her ear and growls, "Why not?"

Reflexively licking her lips and tilting her head to the side to allow him better access, she lets him continue demonstrating his thorough knowledge of her body.

Scraping his teeth across her ear and licking at her lobe, he runs his hand down her hip and around her backside, squeezing. Soft and wanting, she exhales his name.

Then, without warning, he lets her go and backs away. Lois stumbles, not realizing her legs had gone weak. Pleased by how thrown she is, he taunts, "Too easy."

Scoffing, she pokes at his chest and accuses, "Tease!"

Clark doubles over, laughing. Gasping for air, he manages, "C'mon, Lois. Do you really think our first time should be on the filthy roof of the building we work in, in plain view of perfect strangers?"

"That's enough with the giggles, funny man. When and where would you like this little foray to take place?"

Gathering himself, he suggests, "How's tonight?"

"Uh, wow, tonight? Really?"

"Yeah, unless you don't want to. Or you're busy. Or…you don't want to."

"No, no, no, no, no. It's not the wanting. It's just, you know, it's been two years and suddenly there's a, like, -" - checking her watch - "- four-hour countdown. I'm just trying to get my head around the turn this day has taken."

"Lois, we've gone this long. We don't have to tonight. Or anytime soon, if that's what you want. Actually, you know, you should pick the day. And the place, too."

"For crying out loud, Smallville, your sense of chivalry's gonna keep this from ever happening. Um…okay…I prefer home-field advantage. Unless there are any objections?" He shakes his head. "Alright. And tonight sounds perfect. Unless, of course, you have to -" - making a flying gesture with her hands - "- do that thing you do."

"Not tonight."

...