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Morning sunlight spilled through the thin curtains, bypassing the material and sprawling onto the mess that were the bedsheets and the floor, turning the Lois’ Metropolis apartment bedroom a soft, a little dampened golden hue. The sheets were tangled around Clark's legs and sat right above Clark's bare chest. The faint scent of Lois' perfume still lingering on the pillow beside him.
He stirred quietly with a quiet sigh, his right hand reaching out automatically to the side of the bed. His hand searching the mattress for her warmth, her body to drag back to his chest and lay his face in her messy hair, to feel her skin and her heartbeat and that small familiar weight pressed against his chest
However, when his hands touch the side… he doesn’t feel her warm skin, doesn’t feel the material of his flannel— but instead, he feels the empty space on the bed, the ice cool bedsheets, the space that had once held his girlfriend on changed with the dip of the mattress coming back to regular shape.
Lois isn’t there.
His brows furrowed as his hand patted around the sheets, half asleep and very confused. His fingers touching every space on the bed— did she go towards the edge? Is she closer to him than he thought? But nothing. No body. Lois never got out of bed first— not after nights like the previous one. They'd both gone to sleep well past midnight, both bodies very sore and very bruised. Her voice hoarse after moaning his name for two hours, feeling him all up in her guts, her body trembling in his arms as the two of them fell asleep in a mess of limbs. He knew he fucked her good, and she never got up after getting her back broken.
Clark blinks his eyes fully open, adjusting his eyesight to the bright and raw light of the sun, looking around the room and then… he sees her.
Lois Lane. His girlfriend. Half naked. Sitting at her desk by the window, the coffee cup steamed a little as he saw snow leaving the Metropolis sky from the half-opened window.
Her laptop was open, the screen was bright and filled with words that were being typed faster than anyone humanly had a right to type after a night like that, but only Lois Lane could type that fast. Her hair was a mess on her head, Clark swears he can see a few strands of her black hair make a halo around her head, some strands sticking to the curve of her neck as it pressed on her the beginning of her spine. The coffee cup had drink marks on the edge of the mug, clear rings inside of it from the coffee cooling down and being ignored by her total focus on the article.
Her pants? Simple plaid, green and black pajama pants.
But her shirt? Absolutely nonexistent.
The blanket from the bed was long gone on the arm of the chair, the desk was piled with notes and different past articles. A pen was tucked behind her ear, she was shuffling through drafts and notes on the computer. She was just… there, in her element. Skin bare, bite marks on both of her shoulders, hickies all around her neck from front to back, finger marks still red from how he forced her to arch her back when he had her in doggy. He noticed it all, where his mouth had spent far too much time in a specific area, she looks gorgeous like this.
Clark felt something appear in his veins, between awe and heat crawling up his spine as he stared at her. guilt over being so aggressive and love at the sight of his girlfriend working.
Good. God.
Clark smiled to himself as he propped his body up on his left elbow, eyes drinking in the sight as she remained focused on her paper and unknowing that her boyfriend is awake and watching her like she hung the stars. She was glowing in the morning light, seeing her muscles strain and shift in her back and shoulders as she typed, her body screaming both exhaustion and stubbornness. The marks on her skin, created by him and his love for her, stood out against her skin that stayed clean and fair for most of the time, apart from nights like those— proof of everything they’d done, every kiss, every moan, every orgasm, every whispered ‘I love you’ between breaths.
“Lois…” He rasps out, almost in an awe like way, his voice was still low with sleep as he didn’t dare to speak loudly.
She didn’t even turn around, but she smiled at hearing his voice; about time he woke up. “Morning, Smallville.” She says back to him, voice remaining hoarse.
He smiles at her voice. “You’re… writing.” He says, as if his brain needed to confirm what his eyes were seeing and not just a mistake from his eyes.
She nodded. “Uh huh.” She replied, fingers still flying across the keyboard, words appearing on the screen. “Breaking the story on the Senate leak. Apparently it happened this morning around five, woke up to the notification at seven… y’know the girl I hired to try to get information? Yeah, she found it when she was granted permission to take archives home— stupid decision, but it’s the Senate so who’s surprised… got quotes from an additional source in the actual chamber with proof, but they want to stay anonymous though, but I got to get it out before anyone else does… before the source goes to someone else. and I like to think the people would love to wake up to news that their government is corrupt, nothing new.”
Clark's lips twitched. He loved hearing her ramble and explain things. he loved how fucking smart she is, how good she is at this kind of stuff. “You were dead asleep two hours ago…” He tells her, remembering her warm body in his arms.
“Keyword, ‘were’.” She says back, eyes not even close to leaving the screen as she scrolled down to start a new page. “I told myself I’d write it later but then my brain started to yell at me about y’know, journalistic responsibility.”
He let out a slow exhale, of course her brain would tell her that. He ran hand over his face and through his black curls before sitting up fully, sheets slipping down onto his lap as he pushed them away. “You’re unbelievable.”
She hummed absently, shrugging her aching shoulders from his teeth. “You’ve told me that before… actually several times last night, actually, every time I asked for more and was shocked I could keep up with you.”
That earned her a quiet laugh from him— and an ache from his boxers but he ignored it. His gaze softened, tracing the slope of her shoulders with his eyes as he took in the sight. She was ridiculously hot— his girlfriend of nearly two years, the most unstoppable woman alive, filing stories half naked after a night that had both of them wrecked and the headboard nearly snapped. This woman is going to be the death of him.
But damn it, she was a gorgeous sight to see.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed, the wooden floor creaking softly beneath his feet and the bedframe groaning as he pressed on it to lift himself off of it. He remade the sheets slightly before padding towards her, slow and carefully watching her every move. “You’re gonna make me go crazy, you know that?”
“Already did, farm boy.” She murmurs without missing a damn keystroke, smiling to herself as she feels his presence increase into her personal space.
Clark leaned down behind her, pressing a soft kiss onto her right shoulder, right between two bite marks. Her skin was warm under his lips. He could feel her shiver at the touch of her skin that hadn't been touched for over two hours, but the shiver wasn’t too much to make her break or make her stop typing. He heard her let out a soft hum and kept going.
His mouth then found the curve of her neck next, right above one of the many hickies he left on her, breath brushing just under her ear. The sound was quiet, almost non-existent like her shirt, but she heard it. “You should’ve woken me up.” He whispers.
“I actually tried.” She says, but that tone she’s giving him? Yeah, he knows she’s lying, and she knows he knows she’s lying. It's adorable truly, but Clark wanted to hear her excuse. “You growled at me and rolled over.”
Okay. Growling could’ve actually happened, he does that, but rolling over? Especially when he has her in his arms, and at the sound of his girlfriend’s voice? Yeah, that’s the unbelievable part; him rolling over and ignoring his girlfriend, even in his sleep, not the growling part.
He chuckled, a low affectionate sound at her lie. “Liar.” He shot back, kissing her cheek.
Her grin gave her away even before she said her lie, and the way she chuckles low? Yeah, Clark knew instantly. “Okay, fine, maybe I didn’t try that hard. You just looked too cute drooling on my pillow to wake up… plus I got out the moment your hand even drifted away for a second.”
He groans softly, smiling at her words as he rested his forehead against the crook of her flushed neck, his hands resting on both of her biceps, his fingers easily covering hers. The size difference is what makes Lois’ breath hitch, not his head in her neck. “Oh Jesus baby, ‘re going to kill me one day.” He whispers, the midwestern accent falling into the ‘you’re’ from sleep.
“Good.” She teased, moving her head only a little to place a kiss into his hair before immediately going back to work. “Means I’m doing my job properly.”
He leaned over, lifting one hand to tilt her head as he pressed his lips onto her lips, the kiss slow and reverent compared to the sloppiness of last night. More passionate than the teasing pecks on her neck. Her fingers finally stilled on her keyboard for only a moment, leaning back on her chair to lean into him, her head digging into his shoulder.
For a brief second, the only sounds in the room were the soft hum of her laptop and the steady beat of their hearts, his hands sliding down on her arms and going down to her forearms, so easily wrapping around her arms as he rubbed up and down, their tongues padding against each other’s in the kiss.
“Finish your story.” He murmured against her lips, smiling as he saw the sight of her face up close. “Then I’m taking you back to bed.”
She smirked against his lips, pressing one more kiss onto him as her fingers began to type again. “You promise? Maybe even some morning sex? I mean… if you have the energy for that.”
He smiles, pressing a kiss into the back of her head, voice quiet, sure, and a hint of flustered. “Y-You know I have the energy for it.”
And in that soft morning light, dimmed by the snow falling onto the quiet city of Metropolis— her body bare, his lips on her skin and her mind still set on exposing the corruption of the world— Clark Kent thought there had never been, and would never be, anything hotter than Lois Lane.
And he wouldn’t want that any different way.