Lois & Clark Forums Forums Fan Fiction Fanfic Related Kerth Quiz I: Best First Kiss

“I could show you the world,” Clark said in a hauntingly beautiful hush. His emotion filled the treehouse, surrounding Lois in a magical way. It was hard to breathe lying next to him with moonlight shining down from above and the glow of the lightning bugs casting a romantic light around them. She felt it; she knew he felt it, too.

He cleared his throat, and affected a playful leer. “Clothing optional, of course,” he said cheekily.

Lois snorted, but said nothing, grateful to him for easing the growing tension between them, allowing her to shy away gracefully. She sat upright and skimmed her hand along his arm before intertwining her fingers with his. The connection felt warm, pure, real. Innocent and pastoral – it felt like Smallville. Which is why it could never last.

Lois tore her gaze away from their joined hands and looked into his eyes. She whispered sadly, “Don’t fall for me, farmboy.”

Clark squeezed her hand gently, tilted his head in an apologetic shrug, and simply declared, “Too late.”

Lois nodded slowly, holding his hand for a few more affirming seconds, before letting go. She began to scoot towards the treehouse’s doorway, but something compelled her to pause. Mad Dog Lane lived in Metropolis; she wore boxy pant suits and guarded emotional armor. But right now, she was Lois Lane, in a calico dress, with her emotional walls toppled to the ground.

She flipped over onto her hands and knees, carefully crawling beside him. She saw his eyes widen with surprise as she hovered her face over his, allowing her hair to gently brush against his skin. She paused, just for a moment, to ensure the action wasn’t impulsive, so he would know that she had made an active choice.

And then Lois Lane kissed Clark Kent.

She raised her tear streaked face and glared at him. “Okay? No, Clark, I am not okay! You just told me that the man I love and the superhero I chased around Metropolis for over a year are the same person! How could I be okay?”

He couldn’t stop himself from smiling, which only provoked another glare from her.

“What are you smiling at?”

“You love me?”

“Yes, but-”

This time he didn’t resist. Leaning forward, he captured her lips with his. For a moment she resisted him, then he felt her lips move under his and silently exulted. Oh, how he’d missed kissing her! She threaded her fingers through the hair at the back of his neck, tugging him closer as her tongue sought, and received, access to his mouth. He moaned deep in his throat as the tip of her tongue found his and pulled her off the couch into his arms, holding her tightly against him as he explored her mouth. All too soon, she was pulling away from him, making him groan in disappointment as she broke their kiss.

“You may not need to, but I need to breathe,” she reminded him.

“I love you, Lois,” he told her seriously. She leaned forward and pressed a lingering kiss to his lips.

“I’m still mad at you.”

“I know. And I’m sorry, Lois. I should have told you earlier. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

"Lois, I owe you a lot. You accepted Superman when he first arrived. It's thanks to your articles that he was accepted so easily. If LNN had gotten there first, I’m sure the perception would be completely different. And although you've protested at times, you accepted a greenhorn partner as a full partner. I wanted to show you how much I trust you. And my parents do too, by the way. I discussed telling you with them."

"You did?"

"Sure did. They both thought it was time."

"How about a hug?"

"Absolutely!"

They both stood and stepped into each other's arms. Lois tipped her head up and Clark looked into her eyes. They saw the love in each other's eyes. Cautiously, he bent towards her and gently kissed her lips. She memorized the feel of his lips on hers, the smell of him, the gentle sound of his breathing, and how safe she always felt in his arms no matter what clothes he wore. Then she initiated a kiss filled with all the love and passion she could muster. Momentarily stunned, he soon returned the passion-filled, toe-curling kiss.

She sighed as she leaned her head against his chest, hearing his heartbeat. And Lois knew she was right about something else. She was in love with Clark Kent. She couldn't live or even visualize living without him. And she knew without him saying a word that he felt the same.

Coyly she looked at him and asked, "When's our first date?"

He laughed and replied, "Tonight?"

She nodded yes.

"I've said it before, and I’m going to continue to say it until long after you believe it. Lois, I've loved you from the beginning, and I'll love you forever."

She gave a nervous chuckle. “It’s really hard to think straight when you look at me like that,” she said.

“So stop thinking” he said, his voice husky, his face moving slowly toward hers. His eyes fluttered shut as he closed the gap between them, brushing his lips lightly against hers, pausing momentarily before leaning in closer and engaging in a deep, profound kiss.

This wasn’t the first time he had kissed her – not the second or third, either, but it was different from those other ones in so many ways. Their previous kisses when he had been wearing the suit had all felt like stolen moments, forbidden actions from two people who had been spurred into uncharacteristic action by circumstance. They had been hungry, passionate, but lacking in any deeper emotion; they were kisses between two strangers. A couple of times he had kissed her as Clark, but each had been more of a ruse than anything else. And while those kisses had been tender, with maybe a spark of something else, they also lacked that deeper connection.

Tonight, though…. Tonight was the culmination of their past experiences, their shared knowledge, and the unrequited feelings that had lingered between them for so long. It had felt dishonest before to try and tap into his deeper feelings for her while in either guise, since she really didn’t know him, not really, but now there was no reason to hold back, and apparently she felt the same way. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that she could feel his emotions, but the way she responded to him, the sensations that her touch arose in him, were more incredible than he could’ve possibly imagined. For an indeterminate amount of time he let himself get lost in it, get drunk on it, before he forced himself to pull back, not wanting the experience to degenerate into something that they weren’t ready for yet.

“So, you’re saying that you won’t try to seduce me until I know your secret?”

He ran his fingers through her hair. “Do you want me to seduce you?”

“I meant have sex.”

He smiled. “Do you want me to make love to you, Lois?”

She turned away, her face red again, but she didn’t step out of his arms. “You’re avoiding the question.”

As had she.

“I won’t make love to you until you know, Lois,” he promised into her ear. “I respect you too much to do otherwise.”

“Respect or love?” she asked, turning back around. Her face was now a mere inch away from his. He could feel her breath against his lips.

“Both,” he replied, speaking the word into her mouth. He took her dare and closed the gap between them, sealing this promise with a kiss.

Her arms slid up his chest and wrapped around his neck, placing one foot between his feet and pulling him closer. He tightened his arms to make sure that he didn’t lose his grip of her. As her lips moved over his, the noise from Metropolis faded away and it felt as if suddenly he and Lois were alone on the street. When they broke for air, sound rushed back to Clark like a freight train, causing him to take Lois more securely in his embrace.

She rested her head against his chest. “But you don’t trust me enough to tell me your big secret now?”

“Well, not so long ago, you were engaged to Luthor; it’s best if we take this slowly,” he replied.

“Gee, thanks, Clark,” she said dryly, lifting her head to stare him in the eye. “Do you always kiss women you don’t trust?”

It was then that the two of them heard a knock at the door. It could only be Clark arriving to walk Lois to work. Lucy held her hands together gleefully and grinned mischievously in anticipation, while Lois simply sighed in frustration.

"I hope you enjoy this," she said as she opened the door.

Clark barely got the words 'good morning' out of his mouth before he found Lois' arms wrapped around him and her face close to his. He wasn't sure what was going on, but before he could ask, Lois began kissing him, right on the lips! In the background, he could hear Lucy intoning, "One... two... three... four... five!" At five, Lois released Clark and turned to Lucy.

"So, Lucy... want to make a bet on the Calvin Harding/Joe Bennett fight?" Lois asked. "I think Harding's gonna wipe the floor with Bennett."

Her hands flew up to her mouth as the world seemed to constrict all around her. She could almost hear a clicking sound as all the pieces seemed to come together in her mind at the same time. It all made sense – the running off, the excuses, the strange things he said upon occasion that made no sense before, but put in context made all the sense in the world. The way he seemed to know things that he shouldn’t be able to know, see things that he shouldn’t be able to see. The things he did, the times he left, it wasn’t because of something she did or any desire on his part to humiliate her. It was all because Clark was…he was…Superman.

The way she had looked at her hero at the beginning, the way she had treated Clark… it was no wonder that Superman flew through her open window at every opportunity. It was plainly obvious that Clark was in love with her and probably had been for a very long time, even if he never said as much. And if that was the case, then he undoubtedly drank in the affection she showered on her hero during their private meetings and used it to sustain himself when she treated his other persona like dirt. She wanted to cry in frustration, she wanted to apologize profusely, but she found that her legs were taking her toward him, almost running, her breath catching in her throat as tears started to gather in the corner of her eyes. It only took a moment before she was in front of him. Without hesitation, without really slowing down at all, she flung her arms around him, found his mouth with hers, and let all her thoughts fade away. The kiss was eager, hungry, and she could feel him responding to her in the same way she responded to him. It was the release of all her old preconceptions and fears, all the things that held her back from him before that moment. And it was spectacular.

As the world began to seep back into her consciousness, she became aware of the music playing over the club’s sound system. Roger Daltrey was screeching for love to reign down on him, even as Lois became aware of the tears streaming down her face, raining onto Clark’s shirt. As they pulled apart, she smiled broadly, let out a quick laugh, and let her eyes meet his.

“It’s you,” she said, shifting her gaze down to the twist tie wrapped around his finger. She brought one of her hands from around his neck to grasp his hand, running her thumb over the tie before intertwining her fingers in his. She looked at his face again, taking in the details, wondering how she had missed him for so long when he had been in plain sight. The glasses, worn like a mask, the career that allowed him to slip out of the office without anyone batting an eyelash, the amiable personality that allowed him to fade into the background…all of it she had figured out, but she wouldn’t let herself even consider that he could be the person she was looking for.

She feels like a monster.

He loves her, and he has done everything (more than everything) to try to be accommodating for whatever she wants of and with him, and here she is: punishing him.

A good memory, she tells herself as she slides closer, closer, closer, to him, tugging at the back of his head to tilt his lips toward hers. She just wants to give him some good memories. She wants him to think of her and smile for an instant before he remembers what must, inevitably, come later. She wants him to be happy, even if for a moment, a night, a day, a week; even if it cannot last forever.

(She is good at lying, even--especially--to herself.)

“Clark,” she whispers as his breath feathers along her cheekbones (so he knows that she knows who she’s kissing). And then she lets her lips play along his. The lightest touch. The merest brush. A test. A tease. A temptation.