immaculatesnz - Tumblr blog

immaculatesnz · 9 days ago

Text

Tap Out | Superman (2025)

Do you ever write the smutty follow-up to a fic, just to have it end up waaay longer than the original? Anyway. Here, have some more Superman stuff! Lois POV! Some actual explicit porn for once! 18+ Only!

I got some other good prompts in my Inbox that I’m percolating on, so thank you guys for that and for being nicies in general :) The words of horny encouragement doth sustain.

Mild warnings for mess, weird alien/sci-fi bio stuff, destructive snz trope, etc. All the good shit. Enjoy, thanks for reading!

The bedroom has seen better days.

It has also seen much worse days, when Lois has been chasing a lead for weeks and barely had time to stop home for a shower before she’s in the city or on the road again. College Lois was also a complete disaster, and her shithole apartment at the time suffered much more than a broken mirror and some hastily rearranged furniture.

Her only real concern now is stepping around the broken glass when she gets up to start the coffee pot, but that’s still a minor inconvenience. Wholly worth it, too, for the sight that greets her when she returns with her first heavily-doctored cup.

She’s already pulled the blinds all the way open, which reflects the scattered mirror shards and creates an oddly whimsical, disco ball pattern of sunlight cascading around the room. More importantly, it comes streaming in through the windows and across the bed with the kind of full force morning brilliance that was only an annoyance before she acquired a solar-powered boyfriend.

Six feet and some change of chiseled alien boyfriend, in fact, his impossible body still relaxed with slumber as he continues to drool on her pillow. Lois masks her smile behind a sip of the jet fuel and sugar slurry she’s concocted. Even while unconscious, Clark has curled himself into the rays of warmth, chasing the heat and light that casts him in a resplendent golden glow. Every time. He’s like a cat in a sunbeam.

She doesn’t think either of them will have the pleasure of sleeping in long, though it’s still early. She’ll take all the time they can get.

Especially if she starts caffeinating now.

Lois sets the mug aside on her end table, which has survived so far and is therefore probably in the safe zone. If not, oh well. She’s careful as she slips back into bed, only because she’s trying not to wake him.

Clark stirs anyway, with the sharpness of a sudden, deeper breath and the groggy shift towards her body, groping for her frame. She’s not sure she’d call it full consciousness. Still, Lois is preferable to the sunlight? She’s flattered.

“Mmn,” he mumbles, curling an arm across her middle. Lois welcomes the weight of it as she lugs him over into a proper cuddle, guiding his head down against her. “Time’sit?”

“Still way too early. Go back to sleep, farmboy, we’re good for a while.”

She allowed herself the indulgence of exactly ten minutes to sift through her phone notifications while the coffee brewed. Just enough to confirm that nothing is actively, literally on fire. It takes incredible dedication to her relationship and not her job to go back to bed, but now she’s very glad that she did.

This is what it’s all for, isn’t it?

She kisses Clark’s brow and takes the opportunity to assess him more closely, once he drifts back off into a compliant doze. He doesn’t look banged up and bruised like he did last night, all the marks of betrayal faded from cellular memory in the warmth of the sun. His skin is smooth and unbroken now, the curves and dips of it leading her gaze down and down his length to...

Lois pauses. Okay, well that is some truly impressive morning wood that she’s now wishing she’d addressed before shushing him to sleep again.

Maybe they can circle back.

For now, she returns her attention to his face. Long, dark eyelashes fan over his cheeks, and Lois draws a musing touch down the line of his jaw. There’s a pleasantly rough texture there, a faint shadow of stubble that catches under her skin. He seems to grow a beard at approximately the same rate a human man does, though Lois still isn’t sure she believes him when he claims that he lasers it off every morning via heat vision. She’s refused to indulge him enough to ask for a demonstration, yet she knows she’s going to cave eventually.

Lois pauses again, when she arrives at a darker smudge across his upper lip. Just under his left nostril, in fact, is a shiny mark that looks almost like pencil graphite or a sort of glittery eyeshadow. Frowning, she skims her thumb across the swatch and comes away with a faintly metallic smear on her skin.

It takes a moment of studying the sheen as she tilts it in and out of the light before recognition clicks.

So, she wasn’t seeing things last night.

Clark looks better on the surface, sure, but she has no idea what’s going on internally. The answer, apparently, is thousands and thousands of microscopic robots that his body is still in the process of purging. She glances at the small drool spot on his abandoned pillow, and can’t decide if that also has a silvery look to it, or if that’s her imagination.

“Weird,” she murmurs to herself, fascinated.

There’s no palpable grittiness to the nanites when she rubs her fingers together, but the desiccated tech crushes down easily to a finer and finer particulate. She can see how irritating this would be clinging to the entire surface of his respiratory tract.

Lois can’t feel any disgust like he seemed to be fretting about last night, just a fresh wave of sympathy. Dating a metahuman takes a lot of adjusting expectations, and one dedicated to global… possibly galactic heroism even moreso. They’re both very much still figuring the paces of it out, in addition to figuring each other out. The quirks of biology are sometimes the easiest thing for her to just roll with. Residual, nanite-laden mucus after a bloody battle is an oddity that barely blips on her radar.

She steadies Clark with one arm and leans up with the other for the tissue box she spots near the headboard. Lois folds a couple sheets over and steals a swipe or two under his nose, while he’s still out.

“C’mere,” she mutters to herself as she adjusts him closer. “You’re a mess.”

Clark scrunches his features a bit at the attention, not quite awake. He’s getting there, especially as Lois checks her clean-up efforts with the brush of her thumb around the edge of his nostril. Back and forth a few times, idly, admiring the unusual softness of his septum as she bumps against it. Only when the rim of his nare twitches and trembles under her touch does she fully realize what she’s doing to him.

Oh… oops.

On the one hand, she’s treated to Clark’s quivery ‘I have to sneeze’ face, which is about as precious as it gets. On the other hand, she should probably give some consideration to damage control.

Does the finger under the nose thing only work in cartoons, she wonders. Does it work on Kryptonians? Either way, she’d feel bad denying him the relief — especially when she’s the one teasing him, however unintentional.

She gets another handful of tissues ready, instead.

Clark squints his eyes open with the first, wavery “—h’uhHH…!” before his breath catches and his chest rises.

“Clark,” she warns, shifting so he can have his other arm. He’s already got one hand clasped clumsily to his face, and is now struggling to sit up and away from her.

“I… I ndeed—…” He starts. The sentence dissolves as he hitches wildly, his eyes squeezing shut, nostrils curling open behind the splay of his fingers.

Whether he’s requesting tissues or alerting her of the imminent explosion, Lois has the same response. She presses her bounty upon him and spreads a hand to his back.

“Here… take these, c’mon. Let it out.”

Maybe she should brace herself, too?

“Uh…!” Clark inhales. He still manages to take the tissues from her, crushing them to his nose and mouth at the last moment.

“HUH’EIDSZSHHHH—-SshhOO!!”

He gets it under the control behind the clap of both hands, for which she’s certainly grateful. Even contained, the strength of the sneeze is enough to make the bed creak dangerously. Lois is almost certain that the whole room shakes, but when she looks up from her instinctive hunch at his back, all of her windows are still intact and the ceiling isn’t falling down around their ears.

Well, that’s a relief. Especially since Clark is already building helplessly towards another.

She keeps a hand pressed beside his spine, feeling the swell of his breath through thick muscle and overwashed cotton. She’s sure he doesn’t need a reminder of her presence or anything. Her interest here is a little more… self-serving than self-preservation. She’s aware that she has very little sense of the latter, she’s been told as much by both Clark and Superman, along with most of the bosses and boyfriends she’s had in her life. She knows.

“Huh…. ! H-EHDTTSSH-sHHHH!”

Yeah. There’s definitely a weird little zing of arousal that shoots through her nervous system as Clark ducks over his lap and sets the bed to rocking. She wasn’t misremembering that from last night, either.

There are several possibilities at play here.

Is Lois in the honeymoon phase where the guy she’s found herself really really caring about got imprisoned, poisoned, and almost squashed by his own clone? Probably yes. She’s just happy to have him here, warm and alive and evacuating strange tech from his lungs beside her. She’ll take Clark in any shape right now.

Is she always a little bit attracted to the display of Superman’s powers, whether he’s fully in control of them or not? Apparently also yes. The second sneeze managed to flutter the sheets, despite his efforts, and it trips an absurd excitement switch in her brain. Maybe it should be fear, and she got her wires crossed somewhere along with that healthy sense of self-preservation.

“Gesundheit,” she offers. So far he’s tapped out after one or two, in her limited experience. Lois can’t be blamed, then, for the surprise surge of horniness when he gasps and dives forward into an uncharacteristic third.

“HD’JZSSHHH–SHHhoo!” And… seriously, another? She must have gotten to him more than she thought. Maybe this is just the result of his body pushing tiny irritants to the surface all night long, while he was unconscious. Clark is bent away from her now, but Lois can picture his crumpled expression just fine as he inhales at a shaky, broken clip. She swallows.

“H-h-h… --hd’DjjJSZHHH-shhuh!”

The strength of his response seems to be lessening each time, yet the fire that’s stoking low in her belly is only fueled by the successive eruptions.

“Oh m’by gosh,” Clark sniffles through a heavy sluice of congestion as he finally straightens. His curls are a rumpled mess, eyes watering and nose flushed a bright, wet pink. “…SNFFH! Excuse m’be.”

“Jesus, Clark,” Lois laughs in a reflexive attempt to conceal her arousal as she fetches the tissue box. She puts it in front of him, since he seems relieved enough to manage his own exchange. “Bless you.”

“Thagk’s,” he murmurs on the recovery, dazed and sheepish in equal amounts. Clark makes a slight face at his persistent stuffiness, and plucks another round of tissues to deal with some of it. It takes a few tries, while Lois reaches for her coffee cup and pretends to give him some sort of privacy.

At last, Clark sighs and wrinkles his nose, scrubbing it on the backs of his knuckles.

“Ugh,” he groans. “Sorry, if I woke you. I had the worst tickle.”

Lois shakes her head and sets her cup aside. “You didn’t wake me. Other way around,” she says. Clark pitches the tissues into the trash beside the bed, and she kneel-walks the short distance between them closed. She leans in to test the waters with her lips pressed to his shoulder. “And I think that might have been my fault. It was only… mostly an accident.”

“What’s that?” Clark laughs. One hand is compressing the tip of his nose into a rough pinch between thumb and forefinger, working it back and forth like he’s trying to get an unreachable itch somewhere inside. God, that’s really not helping…

“Nothing,” Lois says quickly.

Clark gives her a curious look, but he drops his hand and accepts her attention without fuss. An arm slips back around her waist, and he ducks readily into the distraction of a follow-up kiss. No hard feelings, then, not that she expected any.

“Good morning,” she adds, once they’ve broken off, both a little flushed and glassy-eyed. Clark especially so. “There’s coffee.”

He smiles. “Is it coffee, or is it high octane mud?”

She narrows her eyes. Brewing it strong is a side-effect of her masochistic relationship with what amounts to hot, rancid bean juice. Her methods don’t always translate to someone who actually likes the taste.

“That’s rude.” She steals another kiss. “I followed the package ratio, just for you.”

His breathy chuckle turns into a twist aside into his shoulder, where he fields a series of light, repetitive coughs. The effort is enough to jostle her against his side. It also drives up her need to pin him down and bite him all over.

“Hg’khmm, sorry,” Clark exhales afterwards. He leans without resistance into her hands combing back through his hair, the assertive kiss she presses to his temple.

“Don’t be. Maybe I should make you some tea, instead,” she hums. “With honey.”

He groans, then pulls back to peer at her. His big blue eyes are limned with tears and warmed with a haze of pink irritation. “I promise I’m not sick. This is just…” He makes a loose, helpless gesture to his general upper body. Yeah.

Lois valiantly resists the urge to smooch the tip of his nose, sensing that it might be disastrous. She settles instead for the brush of her thumbs across his cheeks.

“... crud?” She suggests. It earns her another laugh-turned-cough, his head turned away in time. This one he manages in just a few beats before he’s swallowing and nodding.

“Yeah, sure. Fight crud.”

There are sexier ways to put it, of course. Sadly, it really is working for her no matter what she calls it.

“I know,” Lois says. “But it might help your throat anyway.”

His gaze flicks over her face, seeming surprised.

She must have said something right, because in the next second Clark has her buoyed into his lap as if she weighs nothing at all. To him, that’s true. The transition pulls a short, sharp gasp of delight from her, and Lois is too pleased to be embarrassed about it. Instead, her arms wind around his shoulders while Clark boosts her up and puts his mouth to her neck.

Okay, good. This is good. They’re on a similar trajectory here after all.

Lois scratches her nails across his nape, smiling as she feels his full-body shiver in response. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, breathless and still sounding a bit stuffy, his huge frame warm and solid beneath the arch of her own. “That does sound good, actually. But… in a minute…?”

Lois nods. Caffeine can wait. The rest of the world can wait. They’ve barely had any time to themselves the last few days, and she wants him.

His teeth find her collar and she gasps again, her hands sweeping up into his hair for fingerfuls of loose curls. Bearing down into his lap grinds her against his cock, still stiff and wanting from either a good dream or her slow build of kisses. The meandering, sleepy morning intimacy is some of the rarest kind, for them, but she’s been thinking about it for… well. Since she knew he wasn’t going to die, anyway.

“Can I assume that you’re feeling better otherwise?” Lois murmurs as she rocks her hips down into him. It draws a low groan from her partner, his fingers flexing against her thighs and riding up under the edges of her soft linen shorts.

“I–… I feel great.”

Lois's smile sharpens. “And you’re up for some more rigorous physical activity?”

“Yes,” his voice cracks on the word, which only makes her want to hear it again. She can’t tell if his glazed look is all from arousal, or if there’s still a fuzzy urge to sneeze in there somewhere. The expressions are remarkably similar, which is something she’s going to have to unpack later, with the rest of all this.

Not now, though.

She smooths his hair back, even as he ducks under her jaw so she can’t see his face when he sniffles. This time it takes greater effort, like he’s trying to curtail something. The sudden show of bashfulness is not helping her desire to pounce at all. Neither is the return of his normal, low baritone after a careful throat clear. “I just… uhm…”

“Clark,” she laughs, hoping she reads him right. She rubs the back of his neck. “You can tap out to sneeze and blow your nose, you know. I don’t care.”

His shoulders relax a little, suggesting that some of his anxiety was indeed tied to that. Ridiculous. This man can move literal mountains.

“In fact, remember when I said that you were kind of cute like this?” Clark looks up from between the valley of their bodies, eyes a brilliant blue.

“Very.”

Her brows raise, amused. “What?”

“You said I was very cute.”

Lois pushes herself off his shoulders to get a better view of him, bleary and wavering a bit around the edges. Oh, he’s definitely fending off another sneeze. The way her pulse picks up at this is also patently ridiculous. That he can probably see her heart beat faster inside her own thoracic cavity is an eerie reality that she doesn’t always like to think about. In the moment, that sureness only bolsters her confidence.

He’s kind of hard to lie to, after all.

“Okay, well I’m upgrading you to ‘weirdly sexy’.”

He splutters a laugh. “That’s an upgrade?” Clark sniffles hard enough to inspire a cough. He gets a hand up to contain it – even so Lois can still feel a burst of air escape between them.

Clark doesn’t seem to notice, but Lois is biting her lip and fighting not to squirm off his lap as she feels it rush across the tops of her thighs. Good God…

“Now I know you’re… SNDFFH! You’re m’bessi’g with mbe. Ugh…”

Lois resists the urge to roll her eyes. Nevermind, maybe she could have kept him going as long as she wanted.

Clark switches the cover of his hand to a fitful rub against his nose. It appears successful at heading off the sneeze, which is a pity. The effort produces an audible click of his fingers itching at the edges of his nostrils, and Lois can’t tell if it’s her pulse or his throbbing so hard between their hips. She’s still ridiculously turned on by all the set dressing of the moment even without the actual discharge to follow, it seems.

“Alright, you be the judge,” Lois smirks. Her hand slips down over the large, sprawling shape of his own where it supports her. She redirects his fingers up over the waistband of her shorts, then down her midline until he finds the drenched and eager heat.

“Oo–kay,” Clark exhales. “Oh wow, you’re…” He’s dropped the other hand away from his face to help brace her. Likely for personal reasons as well, with the way one palm effortlessly cups her ass. He swallows with the nudge of his fingertips threatening to breach her entrance, but not quite… not quite. His whole hand spans the length of her instead, almost reverent. “I’mb uh– SNFF!” He gazes at her and oh yes, there’s definitely enamored awe there. “Happy to stand corrected.”

Satisfied, Lois sinks down on his hand and gasps as he angles it just right. He lets her grind against the meat of his palm, bearing as much weight as she wants to give him. Delicious strain sings up through the muscles of her abdomen. There are many applications of enhanced strength in bed, as it turns out. Being a willing recipient of anything she can dole out is just as exciting as when he takes a more dominant role. Moreso, really.

Especially when he’s like this.

“Ssshit, okay… yes. Right there,” Lois breathes, twinging as she finally feels his middle and ring finger press up into her. She rocks into his hand, almost spasming already with her clothes still on and her stupid, sexy boyfriend barely two knuckles deep. She has both hands braced against his shoulders for balance as she twists into the roll of his thumb over her clit. Again, then again. “Don’t stop.”

She nearly makes good on her earlier thoughts of biting him, when Clark suddenly maneuvers his hand away, gripping below her thigh with his slicked up fingers. She half-bucks into the emptiness of his absent touch, groaning. “Clark.”

“I know,” he rumbles, voice gravelled from either arousal or the increasingly persistent sniffling he’s doing, the wet and urgent little sounds that are underscoring her own. “Just… is it the sndee–...?!”

Her breath catches almost at the same time Clark’s does. Lois gets a second to process his watery expression, and eases back down into his lap with a thrill of anticipation.

He gets ahold of himself with a shaking exhale, but she can tell from his dopey look that the urge hasn’t gone far. “... hhhuh. SNDF! The sndeezing? B’cause I m’bight ha–aaave to…”

No shit, Lois thinks to herself. At the same time, though, she feels her heart constrict with ferocious affection for this man who wants to know more, do more, make it the best experience for her possible because any other option really hasn’t occurred to him.

“I think so,” she does her best to answer, while she’s still deliriously horny and Clark is obviously trying not to sneeze. “I haven’t really examined it myself, yet.” Lois frowns as she watches him raise a shaky hand to his faze, focus fizzling out. “Just don’t…!”

Too late. Clark keeps her secured with one hand, but the other crushes his nose shut the moment he draws a sudden, gusting inhale. She swears she can even see the ends of her hair pick up, before…

“H’INGGKK’Ttt–uhhh…!”

Calamity. Or… it probably would be at this range, if Clark hadn’t held it in so tightly. The tide of guilt lapping up over her is still secondary to the lust that surges in like a flash flood.

As it is, the suppressed strength of it rushing through his body jogs her hard in place. Lois feels herself actually leave his lap, bounced for a fraction of an inch and a second of pure exhilaration. She doesn’t hear any resounding crashes in the background, suggesting that he’s managed to contain the tail end of it as well. She’s barely paying attention to collateral damage anyway. She nearly climaxes from that alone, just feeling his shoulders and thighs shake beneath her. She’d be a definite goner if she were still riding his fingertips.

“Bless you,” she groans in her daze. That’s becoming a reflex too. Lois has never once in her life been a casual blesser, but it would feel somehow criminal not to say it to Clark.

He can’t respond anyway, because he’s not done. Of course he’s not done.

“Hh-hhh…! NGKT—… ssSHOO!!”

This time, Clark keeps both hands on her hips and throws his head to one side, scrunching his features into it and only half-hiding the display behind his arm. The hands-free stifle isn’t quite so patented a technique, and Lois is aware of the curtains flaring up on the edge of her vision, whipping in the backdraft. There’s a clatter of something hitting the floor that doesn’t sound important. She pushes up into his hands, arching like an animal in heat.

His thumbs press against her hipbones, the two smallest points that keep her from climbing him like a tree while he sniffles through a punchdrunk recovery.

“Don’t what…?” He musters at last.

It could be that she's a little punchdrunk too. Lois blinks down at him. “What?”

Clark squints, turning into his bicep to half-cover a few coughs. “You said ‘just don’t’ and then’d I…snfSNF!”

“Oh.” She sits deeper against his pelvis, feeling the heat of his erection pressed close. She’d like to get to that very soon. She trails her hands down her arms in the meantime, now that she doesn’t need them for balance. “I meant don’t hold them in like that. It sounds miserable.”

Clark sniffs, and sniffs again. It no longer sounds like he’s moving much air or congestion, just trying and failing to maintain some sort of constant drip homeostasis.

“It looks worse than it is, I promise.”

Lois gives him a skeptical look. “Do you hear yourself?”

To her surprise Clark laughs full and open, despite the chastisement and his obvious discomforts. The sound warms her from within as keenly as his sneezing and sniffling does.

“I do,” he assures her, with a kiss to her throat that softens her right up, the sap for him that she is. She runs her fingers over the back of his neck, scratches her nails up through his hair just so she can feel him shiver when he isn’t trying to tamp down on a hurricane.

“Listen, I’ll try not to,” he sniffs. “But I do have to hold it in sometimes – SNFF! Just. There’s not always better options.” He doesn’t sniffle directly against her skin, but Lois swears she’s going to claw right out of it anyway.

“Point taken,” she swallows. He would know the consequences of his own powers best, something she always inherently trusts him to. The admission of something he knows he can’t control is… that’s doing something for her.

Lois pulls back to consider their position, and presses a kiss to his brow. It brings him to attention nicely – so sweet and present for her. The uptick in his sniffling and half-choked little coughs hasn’t escaped her, the slow distortion in his focus. There are more twinging moments with his nose, too, and have his nostrils always been so expressive? They’re sharply defined, and she’s noticed before that they flare dramatically when he’s upset.

Ugh, how long has she been like this?

Lois also needed him inside of her, like, yesterday. That might have plenty to do with it. She checks her own lust with another kiss, this time daring for the bridge of Clark’s nose. He permits it, apart from the crinkles forming beneath her lips just before she leans back.

“Ssspeaking of which, do you need a break?”

“Nn—…” Clark starts to respond in the dismissive, automatic, then catches himself and lets the thought actually gestate. His nose twitches with a sniffle, eyes fluttering. “…maybe. SNF! Two mbidutes?”

She gives his flank a couple of quick pats, like a faithful horse, and grins when he dumps her unceremoniously back onto the bed. “Take five.”

His dick says he’s up for it, but she’d like for the rest of him to get there, too.

Lois climbs out of bed while he folds himself over the opposite edge of the mattress, tissue box in tow. She makes a mental note to buy more of those, possibly even accounting for bulk purchases within her tiny apartment’s storage space.

Unless… oh, God, how adorable would her ruffled dweeb of a boyfriend be, if she could convince him to carry a handkerchief? She puts a pin in the notion, for later.

Lois slugs the rest of her coffee before it cools to room temperature, then strips herself from her top and bottoms without ceremony. She’s not exactly wearing her sexiest set, and there’s no real point in doing a stripshow for someone with x-ray vision. In the background Clark is already busy, making a valiant effort to levy some of the fallout from his sinuses.

After several attempts to blow his nose, it sounds as if he’s relieved at least some of the burden, leaving him in a tingling and breathy aftermath. Breathy enough to get her attention in full. If he tries to suppress it again…

“I–...”

He starts to say something, but is suddenly overwhelmed with sensation. Clark inhales loud and fast. He clutches the current nest of tissues back to his face, then spasms forward with an intensely muffled sneeze that leaves the windows rattling.

“H’WHFFSZHHHhh-SHOO!!”

Lois jumps, despite having seen it coming.

“Jeez. Can’t ding you for that one,” she says as she crawls back onto the bed, and across the distance between them. Once she’s sure he isn’t going to go again right away. “Gesundheit.”

“Thangks,” he sniffs. “Snduck up on me.” He lowers his head into a last short, amending blow, then pitches the tissues into the trash and rolls back to face her. “I’m good now.”

His gaze travels down, clocking her naked body for the first time. His brows raise. “... really good.”

Lois smirks. She uses the front of his shirt to pull him back into a kiss, which he’s happy to return. When she gives them both a break for air, she switches her grip to pulling the tee up and over his head. Clark lifts his arms to accommodate, then draws her in and begins lavishing attention from a pulsepoint of her throat and wending downwards. She can feel the heat radiating off of his bare chest.

“Fantastic. I’ve got an update for you,” Lois breathes as he presses a kiss to the top of her breastbone.

“Uh-huh?”

She twists her fingers in the curled ends of his hair where it brushes the back of his neck. “It’s definitely the sneezing,” she admits, swallowing. “Not just that. But it’s helping.”

He kisses the center of her stomach, and she debates the merits of pushing him lower, guiding him to the blazing center of her energy. She’s so turned on, it wouldn’t take much. She wants him even closer than that, though.

“Great,” Clark murmurs. He sounds genuinely interested. He’s also planning his path downward, palming and mouthing at hot skin as her hips lift into him. “That’s… SNF! Really good news. What can I do?”

“You can hurry up and fuck me before I go crazy, Kansas.”

His laughter whooshes over her stomach and thighs with a warmth that makes her ache.

“Well, I think I can oblige you there.”

He leans up and over her, not a moment too soon. Lois already has a hand skating down the hard planes of his stomach, dipping below his waistband to encircle the equally stiff heat within. Clark’s breath rushes out of him in a shuddery exhale as she gets a hand around his cock and palms it free.

She gives him a few slow strokes, savoring the feeling of controlling a being so powerful with so little effort. Just her hand where the curve of his thick length fits perfectly in its center, squeezing just a shade tighter than she’d ever dare with a human man.

“God, Lois–....!”

He thrusts shallowly into the fist she gives him, wrapping her fingers around his shaft as tight and far as they’ll go. She’s aware of the faint crackle and catch in his breathing as his chest presses close.

Undeterred, he sinks down into her as she guides him into place. It’s usually a very snug fit – she’s a small woman, and Clark is not a small man. There’s usually a good deal more teasing, of rubbing his erection leisurely across her dripping sex, kissing her breasts, mumbling the most ridiculous country-ism praises she’s ever heard. No matter how many times they’ve done this, regardless of her can-do attitude, there’s still an adjustment period. Right now she’s wet and ready enough that the glide is almost frictionless.

“Oh,” she pants out when he’s fully seated inside her with so little effort. She claws at his back while acclimating to his size, his closeness, and the reality of her primal cravings being answered. “Wow, okay. Hi,” Lois breathes, and kisses his shoulder. “Missed you.”

She gets a kiss smushed to her temple in turn, and the press of his cock bottoming out as far as she can accommodate. The burn of stretching and entry becomes an ache, which becomes a pulse that throbs white light and pleasure up through her core every time he moves.

“Missed you too.”

Lois didn’t want to admit it, in case things didn’t work out, and she doesn’t want to be hyperbolic here either. Still, sex with Clark has probably ruined her for every other man on Earth.

He is the only metahuman she’s slept with, but she sees no reason to expand her repertoire at this point. It’s also only partly due to his superior strength and stamina. Moreso it’s because Clark holds and touches and fucks her like she’s the only person on Earth. Being in the epicenter of his focus and adoration is a powerful drug.

If anything, she has to bully him away from being too careful with her, sometimes. It’s better than the alternative, though, and Clark is a responsive lover in every sense. They find their rhythms quickly and easily.

“Hhhyou feel so good,” he huffs against her neck, where his breath sticks to and then dries her sweat almost as soon as it forms. He’s like a handy, built-in HVAC system. In the stickiest and swamp-ass months of summer that was actually quite helpful for their intimacy, versus rutting near her geriatric window unit air conditioner. The memory of sprawling in bed like a princess while he exhaled cool air across her body and touched her slow and sweet is one of her favorites.

Where is she going to find that convenience in a human man?

Not that she’d be forcing him to do any tricks for her in this state. Even having recently evacuated a fresh round of nanites from his system, Lois can hear Clark sniffling and panting on the threatening edge of more.

It’s hard to form thoughts when he keeps rocking on the edge of her sweet spot at the same time, but Lois manages to pull herself back from the event horizon of pleasure to check in, breathless.

“You okay?” She presses her mouth to his neck, then gives into the urge for a little nip. Clark’s hips jerk into her with a grunt. “Need a break?”

Clark shakes his head, curls scattered loose in his eyes. He looks beautiful like this, tear streaks starting to shine across his cheeks. He sniffles again, heavy, then turns his head over the barrier of his arm and coughs freely.

Lois feels the blankets tug off the loose tangle of their legs. The involuntary lung squeeze manages to spasm his entire body against her, inside her, and she juts up with an involuntary cry of her own. Fuck, that’s good.

She can see the advantage of this position for multiple reasons, now. Usually she’s on top, although they both enjoy variety. Being pinned beneath him, with his arm propped on either side of her, gives him a little more freedom to redirect the ongoing nanite management. There’s less fear of either harm or just… sneezing them down onto her like this.

Actually, the jury is out on that possibility and her reaction. She might be okay with it. She can’t think over the stretch and the rhythm that makes her brain want to turn off and just ride the waves of rapture.

“Im’b good. Just… SNFF! Godda… snff! …s-sneeze.”

He says the word in such a casual hush, between thrusts, that she feels like she’s mishearing him. Possibly flirting the line of sanity here, but very much paying attention now.

“Should I–... ahh-h, should I… move?”

She really hopes she’s not expected to, somehow, when he’s currently almost knocking on her liver. Rolling her hips up still gets him to respond with more of those short, shallow strokes that build pleasure rapidly inside her.

“N’do, just… SNF! … s-sstay…”

Lois locks her ankles around his legs as she feels his trunk expand with an escalating draw. Not her first close-range sneeze, but it feels like he’s about to… like she’s about to…

“H’UH..! H’uhh-hhhuh…! … HIH’GISSZSHHHH-ssSSSHHOO!!”

She did ask for this. Lois feels the blankets catch, pull, and take riotous flight in the backdraft, his sneeze discharged somewhere past the shield of an arm and shoulder curled around her. Something heavy hits the opposite wall. She feels the natural thrust of his body like he’s trying to spear her into the mattress, deep and tight and hot. A shockwave seems to start almost from her toes and radiate higher.

“Clark…!”

He barely gets time to breathe in from the first explosion, feeling her clench tight. She’s gone by the second sneeze that barrels out of him and into the bedding.

“GZZSHSHHH–SSshoo!”

It’s loud and desperate and close enough to make her ears ring.

The crest of orgasm breaks over her, crashing like a wavefall across her body as her nails dig into his arm. If she whimpers or if she screams, Lois isn’t sure. She could be squawking like an endangered toucan and neither she nor Clark would care right now. Her hips drive up into him in an aching undulation, drawing out her unraveling euphoria as long as she can.

She’s so busy chasing the last curls of pleasure, trying to drag him over with her, that she barely notices Clark’s recovery from the last, violent sneeze. He doesn’t have much of one, locked instead into an open grimace that she only observes when her spasms start to ease.

“Clark…” She breathes, barely a whisper.

He’s an impressive sight with nostrils open at full flare, the pearl-white tips of his teeth showing beneath an expression curled with torturous irritation. That tickle must truly be a monster…

“HURRESSSHZHHH-SHHhhoo!!”

The sneeze whips past them, crashing or blustering through whatever is in its path. She can still tell that he’s letting them go with a fraction of his strength, since there are no obliterated walls or spewing water lines in their wake. Meanwhile, Lois can’t decide if she’s even fully come down from her first orgasm when the second rips her off her moorings.

His too, judging by the way Clark goes suddenly, critically stiff above her. Tiny, controlled ripples down his spine push him into Lois as she feels him twitch inside, feels heat begin to spill deep within. He fills her up and up into overflowing as she rides him with every scrappy inch of her human enthusiasm, letting herself come and come apart, wrung out on his cock until she can’t take more.

At some point, when her blind, surging rush of dopamine and oxytocin have begun to gradually subside, Lois becomes aware that he’s either pulled or slipped out. Clark spends the last few rounds of his orgasm across her inner thighs.

He’s watching the mess through tear-glazed eyes, nose red as he fights for breath harder than she’s seen him after altercations with twelve story tall killer robots. He reaches down to fist himself through the final spasms, then sinks back… not unlike a collapsing kaiju, actually.

Lois gets her arms out of the way before he hits the mattress beside her with a whumpf. The pair of them bask there in a post-coital bliss that’s nearly a coma. She watches him catch his breath and enjoys the rare emptiness and peace that comes from having every last thought fucked out of her head.

Slowly, the tinnitus in her ears fades, and the blurry edges of Lois’s world narrow back to the man sharing her bed.

Clark is sprawled on his side, gazing at her with unchecked esteem in his starry blue eyes. His devotion feels like it’s still penetrating her, even when his prick is going gradually soft against his thigh.

Not that that matters. Kryptonian refractory periods are shorter than even Earth women. Most of the time she and Clark match up nicely for rounds two, three, and so on. Right now, she just wants to cuddle him.

“God bless you,” she says, stretching a hand down. She strokes his forehead with the backs of her knuckles, the only part of him she can reach without moving too much. His eyelashes flutter shut like she’s giving him the sweetest and most thorough petting in the world.

“Thank you, Miss Lane.”

Oh, God damn him. He knows exactly when to spring that on her to do the most damage. Lois fights the urge to shiver.

Clark is back to staring up at her. “You were really into all that?”

Lois snorts, regaining a few sparks of energy as she makes a flapping, come-hither gesture at him with both hands. Clark looks at her through a similar haze of exhaustion. He inches closer like the world’s saddest, most sniffly superpowered caterpillar until she groans and forces herself upright.

“Get over here. Was I turned on by you hacking and sniffling and sneezing your big beautiful head off? Of course I was.” She pulls him down against and atop her, slumping his not-inconsiderable weight across her ribs. “Oofh.” She buries a kiss in his hair. It’s satisfyingly fluffy after all the exertions. And some of the stray gusts. “Either that, or I’m a really incredible actor. I even had myself fooled.”

Clark laughs, shaking her a little. Shaking her more when he makes himself cough. “Hk-KHMM, ‘scuse me.” He takes the bulk of his weight onto an arm as he pushes up, leaning to kiss her. She pulls him in for more. “That’s fantastic,” he sighs, when they break. “But I really, really need to blow my nose. Can I…” He pats a palm to her arm twice, lightly, and she lets him up without a second thought.

“Oh, yeah. Of course.”

He only taps out as long as it takes to empty the rest of the tissue box. Lois closes her eyes and lets him work through it. She’s pleased when he returns and does all the moving hereon out, in fact.

Pulling her towards him, Clark draws Lois atop his body, cleaned up and back at full stretch. For all of the impressive muscles, there’s just enough squish to him that he’s surprisingly comfortable to lounge upon. Very good to hug. Lois can tell from the weightless, nearly imperceptible bob that they’re also in mid-air, floating a few inches above the bed. She rests her head on his chest and ragdolls with contentment, listening to the improved sound of his breathing.

“I think that actually, finally cleared my head,” Clark admits. He sniffles for emphasis, and there is indeed much less drag on it now. His voice still has a slight, resinous cling, but from what she understands his lungs took the worst of it to begin with. “Thank you.”

Lois smiles against him, feeling warm inside. “I’m glad. I mean.” She tilts her head up and presses her lips to the rough underside of his jaw. “Bad news for me, I suppose. But you needed it.” The man deserves to breathe clearly after the week he’s had.

She also deserved to get thoroughly dicked down after the week she’s had, so Lois considers it a fair trade.

“I wouldn’t be too disappointed,” Clark chuckles. He cups her shoulder with one hand, steadying her in place while he adjusts himself effortlessly in their float. “This was very enlightening.” When he sniffles, it’s much closer to the shell of her ear than before. Lois trembles against him, toes curling.

“Yeah, well. Don’t get it twisted. That might have been a one time thing because I was so happy to have you in one piece, or whatever.” She’s lying, obviously. If anything, she’s giving him more ammunition as he smiles and noses gently behind her ear.

“Sure, okay,” he grins. “Then you won’t care that I’m allergic to cats, and that I always hold my breath when you put pepper on your turkey sandwiches?”

She shudders again. “God damn it, Kent. That’s not true.” Lois pushes herself up onto his chest, looking down at him. She has a leg straddled to either side of his torso, hanging down in mid air. They’ve fucked like this before, Clark on his back and untethered by gravity, arms folded cockily behind his head. Not that she’s thinking about that now, or anything.

“Is it? Don’t tease me.”

She’s sore and stretched out and still has what feels like a bucketful of his cum wanting to leak out of her, but Lois could go again. Shower off their sins before the world needs them and....

Clark shrugs. He takes one of her hands resting on his chest, framing where his emblem would be, and brings the backs of her fingers to his mouth. “I guess we’ll find out.”

The romantic filter over her field of view finally widens, past the heart bubbles and lustful haze to her bed beneath them.

The room itself actually isn’t in too bad a shape – nothing that he can’t clean up by the time she’s poured his first cup of coffee. Lois can throw some spackle on the rest. She’s also pleased to see that her mattress and pillows have survived, even if they did get blown into the shattered mirror.

The fitted sheet, on the other hand… well. It will probably wash out, she’s sure it will, but Lois is startled to a sharp and bleating laugh at the absurdity of the scene. From somewhere near the head of the mattress and streaking nearly to the foot, there is a whalespout spray of dark, metallic pinpoints striking at range and dispersing outward. Was that his last sneeze, and the last of the nanobots along with it? It must be. It looks like when one of the interns loses a fight with the toner cartridges, at the Planet.

Okay, well now she really is cackling, head thrown back and fully enjoying it regardless of how pink his cheeks get in response.

“So, I was going to warn you. I’ll replace them.”

“Oh, my God.” Lois grins, wild, but she only inches up and over him so she can dip towards his mouth. “No wonder you feel better.” She keeps breaking off into runs of giggles between kisses. Clark does not seem to actually mind being the source of her amusement. Or he doesn’t mind enough to fend her off, anyway, as she rains affection down on him.

“You know what,” she says, peering past his shoulder to the impressive spread of micro-irritants below. It’s like a shiny soot print of his sneeze. “There’s something wrong with me, because that’s still pretty hot.”

“Stop it,” he grumbles, pinching the tip of his nose.

“I’m serious,” Lois laughs. “I like it.” She fights past his hand to capture his mouth, however briefly he lets her take possession. Clark waits to sniffle until she’s pulled away again. “But listen, while we’re up…” Very… literally up in the air. She lets him appreciate her pun with a begrudging smirk before she continues. “... and until a flying dog comes crashing onto my balcony, I’d like to open the discussion for round two.”

Clark makes a face. “Lois. Come on. Why would you invoke him?” That he doesn’t immediately startle and bolt off to check on a forgotten pooch suggests that the day’s responsibilities aren’t far from his mind either. However… “And what’s to discuss? I’m already game. SNF!”

Lois grins. She leans down to kiss him once more. “Discussion closed, then. All in favor – hey!” She breaks off with a laugh as he pulls her close and into a crushing embrace, with the kind of restraint that suggests Clark is also suffering from cute aggression with his partner. She manages to free one of her arms to wrap around him in turn.

“Fine, tough guy. Then I’ve got a few more things I want to try, before the world figures out where you are.”

He’s already kissing up the side of her neck to make good on his word, a hand tangling in her hair.

“Sure, me too,” he chuckles. “Looking forward to it.”

#just watched this movie recently (a bit late ik) but this and the previous fic are 🔥🔥🔥

121 notes · View notes