by Fen

Screw pretext.

They'd long since given up on justifying this, and Lois didn't have time in her schedule for anything that wasn't straightforward; anything that wasn't exactly what it was. They didn't need drinks or conversation or subliminal signals, not after a friendship that had spanned a continent, fifteen years, a marriage, a death, a betrayal and a presidential campaign.

It had also spanned her private breakdown, the one no one knew about but him, the one where she woke up every night for three months covered in sweat, screaming that it was blood. The one where she saw Superman crushed and mangled at her feet whenever she closed her eyes, where she hadn't been allowed the simple consolation of mourning her own husband.

After that, they needed nothing more than nearly silent breathing on the phone or a look at the end of a particularly awful day, and they would end up in a sweating, panting pile of body parts. She appeased her own conscience by telling herself it was because he had been Clark's friend all those years ago; he knew her husband more intimately than most and could share her private grief. But there was more to it than that, Lois, thought as Lex nuzzled her breast in post-coital semi consciousness. Somewhere along the way it had become more than comfort, less about the past and more about the two of them as they were today.

For a man who lived and died by the words he spoke for the rest of the world, Lex had a peculiar inability to express his true self except with his body. She'd seen him rip into a speech that Chloe had spent days perfecting, watching her cousin withdraw like a whipped puppy, but the moment Lex touched her arm to indicate something he liked, Chloe's morose expression would be replaced with sudden, sunny joy. Personally, she'd have kicked his ass for that kind of treatment, but in some part of Chloe's complicated psyche she seemed to need frequent dressings-down, perhaps to compensate for the youthful betrayal that she wore like an albatross around her neck.

She'd seen him dismiss Pete's opinions as unimportant and belittle the younger man with a look or a touch that lingered a moment to long on the graceful curve of Lana's hip coupled with that smirk that spoke volumes about how familiar he was with his Vice Presidents wife. Lex's power over the couple was frightening and in her idle moments Lois wondered what it was they needed from Lex, were they repaying sins the way Chloe was or was it something darker that drew them to him.

She'd made it clear to Lex when it began what she needed him for, unable to put into words the twisted bleakness that had driven her to him she had used her body as a plea. Touch me here. Harder. Harder. I won't break. She had known that he would understand that her ability with words had dried up when Superman had died. She wasn't there for pity or a self imposed penitence she was there to be filled, to have his words break her open so she could write again.

Sometimes she suspected that she was barking sexual orders at him to see if he'd finally snap. But he never did. More of a gentleman in bed than out of it, he always bore his weight on his own arms, always managed, by sheer force of intractable will, to have her crying out to him or God or both before he'd allow his own release. Even after God knew how many frantic nights, his tenderness came as surprise and her voice remained lost to all words but those her drew out of her in harsh gasps and guttural cries.

It had driven her especially crazy tonight, frustrated at her own inability to recover the gift with words that she had made her trade she wanted them ripped from her wanted his violence to make them spill from her like blood.

"Just once, Lex, could you just be a caveman?" she'd asked, still panting from one of the orgasms that had rippled through her while he waited and watched with those dark, unreadable eyes.

"I'm too nice?" he'd asked, trying without success to hide his smile against her throat while thrusting deep into her. "You're telling me I'm too nice?"

"Yeah, I know, it probably never happens."

"Not too much, no." He'd rested his forehead on her collarbone, sighing, letting the barest hint of weight rest on her, suffocating in its intensity. Her back ached from where she'd strained upwards, taunting him, trying to get him to lose control. As if hearing her unspoken words Lex reached around and rubbed the tight muscles, his touch expert and soothing.

"You're tense," he whispered into the long curve of her neck.

"It was a tense kind of day." It was an understatement but he knew that, she hooked a thumb under his jaw, making him come up for a kiss that tasted like scotch and cigars and despair and everything else that made him Lex. His eyes seemed bottomless in the muted light.

"I'm sorry you're tense, Lois," he murmured. "I'm sorry about all of it, I really am." His hands grazed her damp skim and he let his fingers settle over the damp curls between her thighs just resting there, the weight barely registering until his fingers drifted lightly over hot flesh.

"We've been over this and over this," she squirmed against his hand wanting more pressure, and he drew away slightly before slipping his fingers inside her making her arch against him.

"I know. But it doesn't make it any less difficult." She smiled and kissed him again, this time with her heart in it pleased when his hands cupped her face in a tender gesture despite wanting the thrill of his possession, craving the violence of bedding a Luthor.

"He's alive, Lex and I'm happy because the world needs men like Superman to protect it from men like you. But I'm still a widow, he didn't come back for me; he didn't even want to see me. That's more important than how I found out, or even what happens now." It wasn't entirely true; some part of her would always resent the hell out of hearing of Superman's return from Perry instead being told by the man himself; and Lex knew that.

"Clark asked him to keep you away. Perry feels like crap about not giving you the story, even worse that you had to hear it from him but it was the only way the Planet got the story."

"I don't want to talk about this. Not now." She tightened her embrace, moaning as Lex's hands roamed the length of her body.

"So what do you want to do?" he asked, and she could see the way his smile, the mischievous, cunning one, lit up his entire face.

"You're a smart man. Figure it out for yourself." She stretched, holding on to the headboard for leverage as she felt all her vertebrae align. She arched into his hand as he found her breast with his palm then his mouth. Damn the backache, Lex was too good to waste. "Harder please," she pleaded, her voice coming from somewhere deep and dark and dangerous.

"Why do you want me to hurt you?" he asked, soberly regarding her as he began kissing his way down her torso. Lex's mouth, that could wound in so many ways in his day-to-day conversation, had an entirely different function when it was against her, pulling her out of her thoughts until all she knew was that her blood hadn't been anywhere near her brain for too long.

"You can't hurt me," Lois gasped his scalp was smooth and warm beneath her fingers as she stroked it. "But you can make me feel."

He hummed something that was a little like opera and a little like pain, his tongue darting around, not sharp but soft and smooth and wet and then bit down lightly on her clit. She heard herself whimpering and didn't care.

"I should be offended," He did that thing with his tongue; something she didn't think was technically possible and was probably illegal in some southern states before pulling away and sliding into her in one harsh thrust that pushed her against the sheets with enough friction to burn pinning her beneath him in a magnetic show of grace and power.

He growled against her skin and marked her with his teeth, she understood that he was claiming her, breaking her with the force of his thrusts and rebuilding her from the center. She screamed his name as the room whirled and grew dark except for the sparkles behind her closed eyelids and heard him cry out a moment later before he fell against her like a pale golden blanket.

"Caveman enough for you?" he asked without looking up from where his head was pillowed against her breast. She didn't answer and he dipped his fingers over the gentle swell of her belly and pressed his fingers to her over sensitized flesh with just enough pressure to make her cry out as another orgasm shuddered through her.

"I love it when you do that." He sounded like fifteen different kinds of smug, smug on a level that even Clark could only dream about. He adjusted his body enough so that he could fold his arms over Lois's belly and rest his chin there, watching her wind down and waiting for her to speak.

"C'mere," she whispered her voice more than a little raw, and he obliged by scaling her long body until he could lie on his back and put her head on his chest. She draped her leg over him because she knew he liked it, and because his body was warm and comforting.

"I don't know what to say to him, Lex. It's strange, there is this joy because he's back, because I love him but he isn't the man I married. He isn't even the man I thought he was anymore." He kissed her temple, and then tucked her head back under his chin.

"None of that matters; none of it. Clark is dead and Superman can kiss my ass because you belong to me now." He held her a little more tightly, enough to make her feel secure and balanced; enough to take away the sting of conscience, the bite of temper at being little more than a possession to the man who she shared a bed with.

"I'd like to see that." His heartbeat was slowing, the thumping gentle and regular. He kissed her again and it felt like flying; the powerless feeling of being up in the air almost enough to wrench the breath from her body.

"Lois?" he asked in a voice thick with sleep his arms tightening around her again.


"I won't let you fall." She smiled into his skin and wondered how he knew just the right words when she'd forgotten.

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