"Did you really think I would say 'no'?" she asked, the pads of her fingers resting lightly on his cheek.
Good point. Such a conclusion would most certainly preclude any future aspirations of being an investigative journalist.
"No." Clark cleared his throat. "No. But I thought you might say it was too quick."
He wasn't listening the past 48 hours, was he? Cat'd been more subtle than Lois was about her designs.
"I get the strongest feeling that something very good happened in here. And because it feels so good, I figure it has to involve you." He swallowed roughly. "At least, I'm *really* hoping it involved you," he said as a hot rash of mortification spread across his face.
Poor, confused Clark
Clark ballooned his cheeks and let out a slow breath. "How did that work?" he asked incredulously.
"Separate sleeping bags."
That pushed it into the realms of possibility. Just.
We need a 'snort' graemlin.
He took the paper from her and stared at it. According to this document, they had been married for over a week.
/pictures Clark's little gray cells shutting down as they realize all official business has been accounted for already./
At mid-thigh, he stopped. "Your turn," he said, barely able to compel his voice to obedience.
Lois stood from the bed and reached behind her body. Clark heard the whir of the zipper.
:p That's what he gets for wearing out his wife's patience.
Lois wriggled her shoulders - just a tiny movement - and the dress slithered to the floor.
Great. Now he's floating again. And how's she going to get him down from the ceiling?
"Better than good," he said. His voice droned through his chest, magnifying its sexiness to crazy levels.
I just had the oddest idea. Besides Lois dying of an unexplained illness within the next 24 hours. They're in the master bedroom of his parent's farm. Martha could just show up at any moment and meet her new daughter in law
Michael
