Author's Note: This chapter has a nfic version that can be found here. As always, I recommend reading the nfic version when possible as it is the complete version of this chapter. This gfic version has been edited to meet the standards of this page.

Clark shifted into park and was out of his truck in one fluid movement. He knew she was waiting inside for him, and it took all his willpower to walk rather than run or fly to the door.

After he had kissed her goodbye on the field and stepped back, surrendering to the Gatorade shower, he had been swallowed up into his team’s celebration. The locker room had echoed with their whoops and cheers and roars, and he had found himself more than a little emotional at the pure joy he was witnessing. He had rounded them up for a final huddle, praising their teamwork and perseverance and telling them how proud he was, before reminding them to celebrate responsibly. And then he had released them into the wild to celebrate with their friends and families and the community at large.

Some of the players had begged him to come out with them to Maisie’s at least for ice cream. But before he could protest, Travis Culpepper had snorted out a laugh and announced decisively that they were on their own tonight because Coach had his own celebration plans.

Clark had opened his mouth, ready to cut off any inappropriate jokes or comments, but Travis had only smiled and said, “Tell Ms. Lane we’re real glad she came to watch us today.” And the rest of the boys had taken their cues from him and simply nodded and smiled on their way out, telling him to have a good weekend or to thank Ms. Lane for them.

He hit the showers after that, washing away the sticky residue and sickly sweet smell of the Gatorade, and changed into the extra khakis and polo he kept in his office. He stopped outside the school to talk briefly with the reporter from the Smallville Post, and then he had been waylaid repeatedly on his way to his truck by countless friends and neighbors – even total strangers – for handshakes and photos. He had been touched by the outpouring of love, but simultaneously desperate to shake off their attention and make his way home to the only person whose attention he craved right now.

“Lois?” he called as he walked through the front door, tossing the bag with his dirty clothing into the laundry room as he passed by.

“Upstairs!” she called back.

No longer held back by the possibility of onlookers, he wasted no time and flew up the stairs and into the bedroom. He stopped abruptly just inside the door, the rush of air in his wake extinguishing half the candles lit around the room.

“It took me ten minutes to light all those candles,” she chided playfully from the bed.

His heart soared at the sight of her propped up against the pillows in nothing but his jersey. He was speechless for a moment, completely overwhelmed by the sexy timber of her voice, the playful smile on her lips, the long stretch of her bare legs, and the simple fact of her presence.

“Sorry,” he said lightly. “Let’s see if I can do something about that.”

He focused his gaze on each wick, one at a time, urging each candle back to life. When he was finished, and the room was full of their rosy glow once again, he turned back to her. “Better?”

“Much,” she said, extending a hand in invitation.

He walked toward her, but hesitated when he reached the bed, letting his eyes drink her in one more time before joining her.

She raised an eyebrow, waiting.

“Just let me look at you for a second,” he said softly.

“I thought this might be a fantasy of yours,” she said, gesturing to his jersey with a flirty grin.

“It wasn’t before,” he confessed. “But it sure is now.”

She laughed and reached for him. “Come here. I’ve been waiting for this moment all day.”

He kicked off his shoes and crawled onto the bed to sit beside her. He cupped her cheek, smiling so wide he wasn’t sure he would even be able to kiss her.

She whispered his name, urging him on with a soft little laugh, and he leaned forward, capturing her lips with his. She sighed, and his heart squeezed with the pleasure of her happiness.

They traded kisses, long and slow and sweet until the world around them shrunk and there was nothing but the two of them.

He leaned back eventually, stroking her cheek again, unable to hide the smile he couldn’t seem to control. “I still can’t believe you’re here.”

“You were really surprised?” she asked hopefully. “I was dying to surprise you, and I was afraid someone was going to let something slip.”

“I was absolutely stunned,” he said honestly. “I didn’t have the slightest clue.”

She beamed at him, clearly pleased with herself.

“I can’t believe you pulled it off,” he teased. “You really coordinated it with my mom and Lana?”

She nodded. “Your mom picked me up from the airport. And gave me this.” She plucked at the jersey, and he let his eyes roam her body again.

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to the crook of her neck. She tilted her head encouragingly and sighed. He smiled against her skin, kissing her again and again, inhaling her sweet warm scent.

She ran her fingers through his hair and trailed the other hand down his arm. He smiled again and flexed, and she laughed. “You did that on purpose,” she teased.

“Yeah, I did,” he said, lifting his lips from her neck and grinning. She rolled her eyes at him, then focused her attention back on his arm, her fingers tracing gently. He flexed again and heard her inhale, and he couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re so predictable.”

“Am I?” she asked, and his heart soared at the laughter in her voice and in the simple fact of knowing her well enough to know the things she liked. He wanted to spend a lifetime finding more things that made her gasp like that, and then doing them again and again.

He leaned forward and kissed her. His lips tugged and caressed hers, and she moaned softly, parting her lips in invitation. His tongue slipped into her mouth, exploring all its favorite places, and she tugged on his shirt, pulling it from his pants, and working her hands underneath.

She eased her lips from his and trailed kisses down his neck, her hands working his shirt higher and higher.

“You’re wearing way too much clothing,” she mumbled against his neck, sending a shiver down his spine.

“I can rectify that,” he said, chuckling.

She scooted back, giving him enough space to move, and he peeled off his shirt and tossed it aside.She rose up on her knees, and he put his hands at her waist, steadying her. Then she swung one leg over his, her hands sliding around his neck, and he whimpered, his hands flexing at her waist, urging her closer.

“You’re so predictable,” she teased. He laughed, delighted by both the way she turned his own words on him, and by the way she felt in his arms. She was absolutely right: he loved when she did this.

He trailed his hands down, past the hem of his jersey to the soft skin of her thighs. He lifted his face to her, and she kissed him. And then he was pouring all the love felt for her into his kiss.

She whimpered again as she lifted her head to look at him. “That feels so good,” she whispered.

“I know, honey,” he said, his voice low and tight, his desire building. “I love you so much. I’ve missed this so much. I haven’t been able to think about anything else.”

She laughed and slid her hands from his neck to his cheeks and then into his hair. “Liar,” she teased. “There’s no way you won that game without thinking about it.”

He smoothed his hands down her stomach then around to stroke her back, laughing again. “Fair enough,” he conceded. “But I was thinking about you the whole time too. And I couldn’t get out of there fast enough.”

She bent her head to kiss him sweetly. “I was surprised you made it home as quickly as you did. I thought you’d be delayed by your horde of fans.”

He rolled his eyes at her usage of the word horde. “Trust me, it felt like forever. I was trying so hard to be polite to everyone who wanted to congratulate me, but I just wanted to keep moving. I couldn’t wait to get home to you.”

“You didn’t want to go out to celebrate with the team? I thought about that belatedly. We could have gone out first and then come back-”

He stopped her with a kiss, swallowing her questions. “I have absolutely no desire to go out with the team,” he said finally, when their lips parted.

His hands roamed her body under the jersey. He was itching to remove it so he could look at her, but he hadn’t been lying when he said seeing her in it was a new fantasy now, and he wasn’t ready to give it up just yet. His mind flashed back to the moment he realized she was wearing it. He had been so stunned to see her, so absolutely overwhelmed with joy that he hadn’t even processed what she was wearing at first. But when he did…. when she turned her back to him and looked at him flirtatiously over her shoulder… when he saw his name printed on her back…. It was like every dream he had for their future coalesced in that moment, in that symbol.

“Good,” she whispered, kissing his neck. “I want you all to myself right now.”

“Oh, honey,” he said softly. “Trust me. I am all yours. And I’m not going to waste a single moment of this weekend.”

“This week,” she corrected, trailing kissing over his shoulder.

He hummed his agreement, rocking his hips against hers, and closing his eyes at the pleasure of it. Suddenly the meaning of her words seeped into his consciousness and his eyes flew open. “You don’t have to work Monday? You don’t have to go home?”

She lifted her head to meet his gaze and smiled as she shook her head. “I took the whole week. We have ten days, counting tonight. And I’m definitely counting tonight.”

He laughed, overwhelmed by his good luck. “Seriously, honey? Ten days?”

She kissed his cheek and then stroked it gently. “I wouldn’t joke about that. Ten days.”

He couldn’t speak through the lump in his throat. He had already been beyond thrilled when he thought she was here for the weekend and then would be back Wednesday for the holiday. To have her for a full ten days….

“Thank you,” he managed to whisper, and her eyes glistened.

She kissed him, and he deepened it immediately, pulling her closer at the same time. He rocked beneath her, and she took over, moving above him until she dropped her head back, gasping for air and whimpering. He took advantage of their lips being separated and slid his jersey up, urging her to lift her arms.

She raised her arms and helped him strip it off, now completely naked in his lap. “You don’t want me to leave it on?” she teased.

He let his eyes roam the curves he had been exploring with his hands. He shook his head, then paused and slid his gaze to hers. “Maybe later?” he said tentatively.

She laughed, clearly delighted that her plan to invoke her imagined teenage fantasy had been so effective. “Any time. Just say the word.”

“In the meantime…” he said, refocusing his attention on her body, caressing her with his eyes and his hands. She kissed his cheek and then his ear, and then circled her hips above his, making him groan with pleasure. It was good. So good. Too good. He wanted to make this last, and that meant getting himself some distance.

He rested his hands on her hips and stilled her, and she raised her head.

“Lay back,” he said, twisting and scooting until she lay under him with her head on the pillow. “Let me love you.”

He covered her in kisses until her breath was coming in short desperate puffs.

“Clark,” she whispered, and he groaned, astounded as always by the effect of her saying his name.

She pulled him back up and kissed him. “Take these off,” she said, sliding her hands under the waistband of his underwear.

He rolled away and pulled them off, tossing them to the floor in the general direction of all his discarded clothing. “Bossy,” he teased as he rolled back on top of her, propping himself up on one elbow and kissing her neck.

She laughed. “Oh? Now I’m bossy?”

“You can boss me anytime,” he said between kisses, his voice low and gravely with desire, his hand roaming her body. “Tell me what you want.”

“Touch me,” she said immediately.

“I am touching you,” he said, intentionally misunderstanding her, smiling against her shoulder as he planted kisses there.

“Clark,” she whined, and he laughed.

He lifted his head to look at her, and his laughter subsided, replaced by a burning need for her. She lay on the bed, her hair fanned out around her, her lips swollen and rosy, whimpering his name.

And then everything else faded away, and it was just the two of them and the love they shared. And it was everything he ever dreamed of and so much more.






Being a reporter is as much a diagnosis as a job description. ~Anna Quindlen