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MtS
🕑 Added 2015-08-27 20:09:47 +0000 UTC http://archiveofourown.org/works/4668914/chapters/10654247Superman tapped gently at the glass of Lois’s window, his super-hard fingernail producing a sound not unlike the cliché pebble thrown by a teenage paramour. Perhaps Lois thought that was what it was, until she remembered her apartment was thirty stories up. With the realization—fast as it was—Lois rushed out of her bedroom, robe tied over the T-shirt and panties she’d been planning to sleep in.
She was a gorgeous woman—raven-haired, athletic, her tanktop clinging tightly to a body that could rival many of the goddesses Clark had known. Her lacy panties topped firm, creamy thighs and long legs, but best of all, she wore it all with a confidence that would be intimidating to a less self-assured man. To Superman, it was only endearing. She made no move to adjust her robe, considering it modesty enough to have simply thrown it on, and trusting him not to leer at the exposed flesh on display. Or, perhaps, wanting him to.
“Superman,” she said, her husky voice catching a little on his name, as always. “Little late for a nightcap.”
“I thought journalism never slept, Ms. Lane”
Lois shrugged, drawing open the window. “It cat-naps.”
Superman politely sat himself on the windowsill, feeling a little Romeo & Juliet. “Got time for an interview?”
Her pouty mouth could’ve been the envy of any model, but she set it in a challenging smirk that demanded to be buried in a kiss. “Would it be a long interview?”
“Depends how much you can take… Ms. Lane.”
“Do I have time to get dressed or…” she looked down at her own perfect body, knowing—or at least hoping—the effect she had on him. “Is this alright?”
“It’s more than alright. But I know how you like to dress up?”
Again, that smirk that dared him to try to take it off her face. More than once, someone had tried it with fists, only to find she still kept in shape from her teenage judo championships. Clark had to wonder if a kiss would be any more effective. “You’re going to have to try harder than that if you want me to wear that geisha girl outfit again,” she said, referring to a recent undercover assignment that Clark Kent had, awkwardly enough, been front and center for.
“Ms. Lane, that’s not very sensitive to our Japanese friends.”
“Maybe that’s why the Yakuza wanted me to take it off so bad… Gimme ten minutes. I’ll see if I have anything that goes with blue spandex.”
“Take your time. There’s a forest fire in Oregon. I’d better make sure no one’s in the vicinity before I let it burn itself out.”
Lois put her hands on her hips, ‘inadvertently’ drawing her robe back from her body. Her breasts, now not even slightly obscured by the robe, screamed of not wearing a bra and how chilly it could get in Metropolis at night. “And could that take a while? The fire going out?”
“Ms. Lane, it could take ages.”
***
When he returned a half hour later, Lois had deliberately defied any expectation of dressing up. She wore the same tight tank as before—with a bra, he couldn’t help but notice, and an expensive one judging by the straps ribboning her sculpted shoulders—with a set of comfortable jeans, cross-trainers at the end of the ragged legs. She was as ready for an adventure as an informal date, and Superman gave her an approving smile. He hoped it wasn’t too egotistical to find it adorable, the way she swooned.
The black of her bra straps, in teasing contrast to the white tanktop and its shoulder straps, fit well with the black waistband on her thong, as he saw before she tugged her jeans a little higher up her toned belly. There seemed to be a little of a dark side flowing up from her panties, to her bra, to the smoky black hair that caressed her shoulders. He didn’t find it adorable, exactly, but he did quite like it.
“Do you mind?” he asked, extending his hand. “My car’s in the shop.”
“Well, if you don’t have the balls to ride bitch on my hog…” Lois took his hand and when he extended his other arm, she deftly hopped upon it, trustingly putting her weight in his arms. “So what’s this interview on? It hasn’t been that long since we touched base, has it?”
“Afraid it won’t be newsworthy?” Superman replied, for a moment just savoring the heft of Lois relaxing in his arms, as bonelessly comfortable as a sleeping cat.
“My readers are always interested in what a newsmaker like you has to say.”
“Newsmaker? Why, Ms. Lane, I do believe that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever called me.”
Lois rolled her eyes heavenward. “You name the guy ‘Superman’ and he still goes fishing for compliments. C’mon, big boy, let’s up, up, and away already.”
Gently, Superman exerted himself, pulling them a few inches off the ground, then leading them out the open window almost like they were being drawn by a string rather than propelled. Outside the building, he applied himself a little more, speeding them up fast enough to tousle Lois’s hair and make her cling tightly to his body. Or at least to give her an excuse. He felt her hand rubbing at his chest, exploring the slightly raised contours of the S-shield on his thin but tough Kryptonian uniform. The muscles underneath were easy to feel.
“So where are we going, high-pockets? The Red Room of Pain?”
“Worse. Lexcorp.”
Lois’s brow furrowed. “They’ve gotta change the name already.”
During the Eugenic Bomb crisis, Lex Luthor had finally been implicated in one of his plots, and this time the scale of his crime was too big for his billions to cover up. He was being held without bail, his lawyers fighting the charges tooth and nail, but until then, Lana Lang had taken over Lexcorp as interim CEO.
“Wait, Lana? Is that who we’re going to see?”
Superman winked at her.
Lois tried to keep her grumbling internal. She liked Lana in some ways—admired a great many things about her. She could be on her best behavior. That way, Superman would see that Lana was the one who was a stone-cold bitch.
***
Within a half-mile of the L-shaped Luthor Tower, the great bay windows that shone into Lex Luthor’s former office opened automatically, pulling into the walls on rollers to open up a passageway big enough for a helicopter. Lana Lang, working late, had already risen from her desk and perched herself against the wall to watch as Superman flew in. It was only when she saw who he had with him that her attitude dropped.
Lana Lang was as beautiful as Lois, but chic and fashionable where Lois was more brash, rough and tumble. Unlike Lois’s long and often tousled black hair, Lana’s was mid-length, red, and compulsively styled. Her body was slender, toned from yoga rather than kickboxing or mountain climbing, with her clothes showing off her taste rather than her body. Still, her fashionable corporate attire—a patterned wrap blouse, red overlays on a dark fabric, and a similarly red pencil skirt—could not do much to hide her firm breasts and flat belly. And her haircut, though professional, only drew attention to her clear green eyes and the rich, sensual mouth only partially given to her by exquisitely chosen red lipstick.
“Superman,” Lana said gently, playing her fingers at the front closure of her blouse—Lois hoped she was regretting her lack of décolletage, especially as compared to Lois’s own C-cups. “You didn’t tell me you’d be bringing company.”
“You called ahead?” Lois asked him, trying to disguise a shrill jealousy with inquisitive reporter voice. “You have her phone number?”
“Maybe I have his?” Lana needled. “Ever think of that?”
“I think it’s more likely you just have time to sit by the phone all day—“
“That’s enough!” Superman said firmly. “I wanted to have a mature conversation with both of you, but if you’re not ready for that—“
Lois crossed her arms. “Hold on there, blue! Don’t try playing some sorta mature, dignified… guy with either of us! You’ve been stringing us both along!”
“Yeah,” Lana agreed. “I can understand letting the old girl down easy, but it’s getting a little ridiculous.”
“Stop agreeing with me,” Lois told her.
“I mean, if you don’t call it off with her soon, she’ll never have time to find a husband. Thankfully adoption’s still an option…”
Lois laughed, shaking her head. “You know, I would threaten to shove my foot up your ass, but you’re wound so tight it’d probably never make it.”
“Not with the size shoes you wear, darling.”
“That’s what I just—“
“Okay,” Superman said, in a more placating voice. He leaned against the desk. “Not to be mature or dignified—“
“This doesn’t seem to be the right room for that,” Lana sniffed at Lois.
Lois clasped her hands behind her back, middle fingers raised and body turned so only Lana could see behind her.
“Not to be patriarchal,” Superman continued, thanking his English degree for providing him with a word which might not break the ceasefire, “but the fact is, I have been unfair to both of you. I had good intentions, but—well, it’s like this. I’m sure you’ve heard of how my enemies, if they found out who I was—“
“Would target me to get to you,” Lois finished.
“Target me to get to you,” Lana contradicted.
Lois ignored her with a posh flip of her hair, more irritated with Superman’s reasoning. “That’s if they can get past the MPD, Superboy, Supergirl, Steel, the Golden Guardian, Superwoman, Eradicator, Power Girl, Booster Gold, Gangbuster, Thorn, Black Lightning—“
“To be fair to him,” Lana said, “I don’t know if we should count Gangbuster.”
“Why not?”
“His name’s Gangbuster.”
“Jose Delgado,” Superman said, “is a very brave and selfless young man.”
“She’s got a point,” Lois said. “He doesn’t have any powers. What does he do, kung-fu? Shoot people? I can do all that.”
“And I’m rich,” Lana said. “I can hire people like Lois—she’s cheap!”
“I’ll show you cheap, you damned—“
Superman stepped in between them. “Point taken. Obviously, the two of you can take care of yourselves, even if being involved with me did put you in danger.” He gave Lois the eye. “Or you put yourself in so much danger that it wouldn’t make that much difference if we got married in Yankee Stadium.”
“Echh,” Lois blanched. “The Yankees…”
“But that wasn’t the only consideration. The fact is, I may not be human, but I’m still only a man. And getting the attention of one woman as beautiful, as talented, and as intelligent as the pair of you would be flattering. Two is… well, I never knew quite what to do with it. I used the danger as an excuse to not make a decision, because as happy as it would make me to be with you—either of you—it would make me equally despondent to break the heart of the other one.”
“Why do I suddenly feel like I’m on The Bachelor?” Lois asked the air.
“Probably because you’re the kind of person who watches The Bachelor.”
Lois took a step toward Lana, almost trying to shoulder Superman out of the way before remembering that was quite impossible. “Maybe!” Lois wondered aloud. “You should break her heart before I break it for you.”
“Please!” Lana cried. “If Superman were going to choose anyone… and if he didn’t feel so sorry for you… I think it’s obvious he would go for someone graceful and refined, someone who’s already shared so much with him…”
“Someone who’s idea of hot sex is doing it under the sheets, but with the comforter off?”
Lana sneered at her. “Oh, Lois, if only you’d been there to see him go from Superboy to a Superman…”
“Yeah, it’s no wonder he hasn’t gotten with either of us, you probably put him off sex ever since!”
“Ladies, ladies, please!” Superman lifted his hands. “I keep hoping you’ll work this out of your system, but it’s like you have this eternal spring of bitterness and resentment!”
“Got it when you went on that date with Wonder Woman,” Lois said.
“Ditto,” Lana added.
Superman closed his eyes for a moment. “What I’m trying to say is that I love both of you. It’s torture that I can see how wonderful you are, you each are, but you two look at each other and all you see is some sort of enemy.”
“What do you expect?” Lois demanded, poking her finger dead center in Superman’s S. “You’re the one who let Lang keep living in this fantasy of being your high school sweetheart—“
“You mean he’s the one who won’t admit how he feels about me, how he’s always felt about me—“
“Christ, of all the needy, clingy, self-absorbed…”
“At least I’ve never tried to steal someone else’s man!”
“I didn’t try, bitch, I’ve got him, and he’s about to tell you to hit the road!”
“Superman, this woman is delusional, please inform her that it’s high time she move on from this embarrassing, simpering crush!”
Superman lowered his voice—so low, in fact, that the sheer bass of it rumbled the room. “What did I just say?” he insisted. “I love both of you.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Lois said dismissively. “You’re Superman, you love everybody, we get it. But at the end of the day, who do you want to fuck? Me, or Lana Limp?”
“She’s right,” Lana said. “For once. You can’t marry both of us, so you’d better let Lois know that her cheap flirtation can never touch our deep, spiritual connection—“
“Actually,” Superman said, “I can marry both of you.”
Lois and Lana looked at each other, as if checking their reflections for the identical images of shock on either’s face.
“He can’t be—“
“Surely he can’t mean—“
“Even with the Evilutionist defeated,” Superman said in his firmest, most serious voice, “his bomb still did its work. Ninety-nine percent of the world’s population has been rendered infertile. The one percent left has to breed, and massively, or the human race will be extinct. I’ve talked to STARR Labs. A human-Kryptonian hybrid would be viable, and able to reproduce. And both of you are part of the One Percent Fertile. You need to find someone to bear children for. I’d like to be that person, for both of you.”
“You can’t be serious!” Lana blurted out. “You want me—you want us—to share you?”
“It’s not unheard of. And it’s going to be heard of a lot more. Monogamy simply can’t sustain the human population. Those who are fertile must be polygamous.”
“How can you be so calm?” Lois demanded. “I always thought you were some kind of boy scout, but this sounds like a letter to the Penthouse forum!”
“I don’t plan on flying around, impregnating every woman I see like some Don Juan. This would be a traditional marriage—well, two of them, to be precise. On Krypton, it was quite common.”
“Well, no wonder the place blew up!” Lana cried. “Sorry…”
“Listen, Supes,” Lois said, “I’m a modern woman—hell, part of the reason I was so damn salty about you and Wonder Woman was that you didn’t bring me along—but Lana Lang? I mean, c’mon, we can do better. Imagine you, me, and Phantom Lady.”
“Don’t go along with this!” Lana almost screamed. “How can you be—how can you condone—where is your sisterly solidarity?”
“This ain’t Paradise Island, bitch. And clearly you’re not interested, so I guess that means I get the rose. And you’d get that reference if you watched The Bachelor like a normal fucking person!” Lois added triumphantly.
“Now Lois,” Superman chided. “Give her time to come around. I know it’s a shocking proposal—”
“Proposal? It’s an insult!” Lana stomped her kitten heels. “I don’t want sex, Superman, this isn’t about sex! What about being special? What about being the most important person in someone’s life? I don’t care if that sounds like ownership, there’s simply no way I can be satisfied with a relationship, knowing that there’s another woman with that same relationship to that same man! And Lois is too stupid to realize it, but she wouldn’t be satisfied either with a shared man, with only half a relationship! No, Superman, it is just impossible that you can satisfy us both at the same time!”
Superman presented his counterargument: he tugged at his red shorts, pulling them beneath the enormous bulge in his blue suit, the hidden zipper of his fly strained to the breaking point. He pulled it down, freeing his aching cock.
Startled, Lana stumbled back, eyes wide open in shock, while Lois barely held back a gasp. It was so massive, it seemed impossible that such a monument could move, yet it did, quivering as if with a life of its own. Lois actually took an involuntary step forward, her attention riveted to his groin, drawn to the massive presence that, like any cosmic body, seemed to have its own gravitational pull.
“Oh… my…”
“CLARK!” Lana cried, her eyes still full of amazement.
“What?” Lois asked, acting on pure journalistic instinct as she continued looking at, and thinking of, Superman’s namesake.
“That’s Clark’s… that’s Clark!”
“Are you sure?” Lois asked, now thinking to keep her hands at her sides, where they could not reach out and assure her that such a thing was real and as fantastic as she’d ever dreamed—just as big and strong as befitted Superman’s god-like frame—perhaps even a little more so…
“I’m hardly going to forget a thing like that, now am I!” Lana screamed.
Lois shook her head as best she could without taking her eyes off the cock, as if afraid it were a mirage that would disappear if she looked away. “No wonder you’ve been stalking him since high school. If I’d ridden that thing, I’d be a creepy weirdo too!”
“I am not a—stop staring at it!” Lana cried.
“No,” Lois said simply.
“I was going to tell you,” Clark said. “But I honestly wanted to see how the marriage proposal went over first.”
“That’s fair,” Lois said absently. “So how do marriages work on Krypton?”
“Lois, this is degrading! It’s insulting!”
Superman spoke over her. “All it would take to be considered legitimate is for us both to state our intent. A more elaborate ceremony can follow, of course, to celebrate the occasion, but all that really matters is that we want to.”
“I want to,” Lois nodded. “I really, really want to.”
“And we’d have to consummate the marriage. Naturally.”
“Naturally.”
“Lois, you are setting back feminism by fifty years!”
Lois cocked her head. “And how long after we’re married would it take to consummate the marriage?”
“Well, it depends. In Lurvan, the marriage is considered consummated after the initial penetration. That can take place immediately.”
“Immediately…” Lois shuddered.
“But in Urrika, the marriage isn’t considered consummated until the male’s final orgasm. That can take considerably longer.”
Lois shuddered harder. “Longer?”
“Considerably.” Superman looked deep in her eyes, his blazing blue eyes the only things that could distract her from his rampant erection. “I want to marry you, Lois.”
Lois nodded. “I wanna marry you so hard.”
She surrendered to her desires, completely and hungrily, diving into a desperate kiss and grabbing his cock, both to caress it and to ensure it couldn’t disappear on her, though her hand seemed at first utterly inadequate to handle such an imposing length. It was pried loose, never able to completely wrap around his girth, as Clark picked Lois up and let her wrap her legs around his waist. She was delighted to find his righting erection pressing flush between her buttocks.
“We’ll give Lana some time to think it over,” Clark said.
“Lots of time,” Lois agreed, when she wasn’t kissing him.
“Your place or mine?” Clark asked, his rising cock actually lifting Lois a few inches as he grew harder.
“Neither. Here. Now.” Lois smiled. “The roof?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Lana watched them go, still agape at how they had so flagrantly—so openly—how Lois had allowed herself to be seduced so completely…
And had she said Phantom Lady? Lois and Clark and Phantom Lady?
Lana ran for the elevator, leaving her heels far behind.
***
“Just so you know,” Clark said, lowering Lois to the rooftop, having converted some of the gravel to warm, smooth glass with the careful application of heatvision and polar breath. “I know I should’ve told you. It’s not that I didn’t trust you. I never thought you would expose my secret or something ridiculous like that. And I absolutely hated lying to you, especially once I’d developed feelings for you—I never knew that would happen when all this started. But in a way, it’s almost not my secret to keep. Even if, by some remote chance, telling you led to others finding out, that wouldn’t just expose me, but Superboy, Supergirl, my friends, my parents… I should’ve told you sooner, I know, before all this, but honestly, with this One Percent Fertile thing, I didn’t think I had any time before someone else offered you a bit more than a reporter’s salary and a life of danger…”
“Clark?” Lois interrupted. “Shut the fuck up and fuck me.”
Clark reached down between her legs, spreading her thighs apart, feeling the nervous tremble deep in her flesh that Lois tried so hard not to show.
When he entered her, she stopped trembling, but started to gasp.
Then she gasped again. This time, much louder.
On Vathlo Island, where the marriage was considered consummated with the first orgasm, they would be husband and wife.
***
As Lana rode the elevator up to the fortieth floor, she felt a quiver go through the car, like some giant had whipped the elevator cable in an attempt to test how firmly it was secured.
On the fiftieth floor, she heard screams.
It occurred to Lana that if she’d acted before Lois, that could be her screaming.
Which was only fair. After all, she’d seen it first.
***
“OH YES! FUCK THAT PUSSY! IT’S YOURS, IT’S YOURS! FUCK IT, IT’S YOURS!”
Lois laid flat on her back, legs wide open, Superman savagely thrusting into her. She was completely lost in the fuck, head canted back and eyes rolling to her hair. Her jeans were down around her ankles, a pant leg pulled inside out, the whole garment clinging to her left ankle. One bra strap had fallen around her bicep, and she held one of her breasts with her right hand, squeezing it as if trying to keep it in place while her whole body bounded with Superman’s strokes inside her. Her other arm was thrown around Superman’s broad shoulders, hand resting in his hair, not trying to control him in the slightest, just feeling the power in him like the warmth of atomic decay in a plutonium core.
Superman was both stoic and warmly affectionately, powering into her receptive pussy with strong, but measured strokes, keeping himself centered as he held her down with one hand, his other one working at her clitoris like it was a schoolyard game. His cape billowed from his attacking thrusts, whipping in the air like it was catching Lois’s loud, vocal pleasure.
Then Clark decided Lois was ready for more, and fed a few more inches of his massive cock into her, his cape shooting bolt upright from the force of his more protracted thrust.
“SO BIG!” Lois whined, her face contorted with abject pleasure. “SO BIG! SO BIG IN MY PUSSY! OH, SHIT, I’M COMING AGAIN!”
“So that’s the way it is then?” Lana demanded, out of breath from her run to the roof access, wincing from the pain of crossing sharp gravel in her stocking feet, watching the pair in shocked silence as they fucked—and they really were fucking, Lois was finally getting the cock that Lana had come to think neither of them would ever receive. Superman was grunting and groaning as he plundered her body, took all the pleasure he could from her, the merest perusal of her sex driving Lois Lane out of her mind with pleasure.
“You’re just going to fuck, huh!?” Lana cried, her voice seeming to echo into the uncaring atmosphere of the city this high up. “He snaps his fingers and says he wants you and you’re just going to spread your legs? How’d you even know you could take a cock that big!? Huh? I bet he’ll want to fuck you in the ass next, and then you’ll be sorry, because there’s no way he can fuck that fat ass of yours without splitting it in two!”
“COMING AGAIN, COMING AGAIN, OOOOH!”
Just as Lois’s crooning orgasm peaked, Superman broke his steady rhythm, pulling his cock all the way out of Lois. Lois could only gasp as she kept coming, body trembling with climactic energy. She rose up off the floor, pushing with her legs and back muscles, reaching with her snatch for Superman’s rod. Clark let her try to regain it. He hovered an inch or two above Lois’s hole, tormenting her. Lana stared incredulously at his size and hardness. It was just as she’d always dreamed, a huge monster that should’ve been hers alone to enjoy.
“Give it back,” Lois begged weakly. “It’s mine… your wife’s…”
“You don’t think it’s Lana’s turn?” he asked. “You know I need you two to get along.”
“Yes… yes…” Lois said softly. “Too much for me… enough for both of us… more than enough… we can both…” Lois broke into an unconcerned smile. “But please? Once more? Then I’ll show you how nice I can be to her.”
Clark smiled at her, kissing her cheek and running a fond hand along her face, then driving down into her, slamming her to the rooftop and pinning her there, impaled on his deep-set cock.
Lana gaped, realizing she was breathing so hard, she might as well have been coming herself. Lois was coming, just from that one thrust, growing limp, cooing as if in rejoicing for Superman’s mastery over her body.
“There’s one more thing,” Superman whispered in her ear, “that I should mention.”
“Yes, yes…” Lois whimpered, saying it to him, to the universe, to her life now.
“On Krypton, the wife is considered consummated when not only has she made her husband orgasm, but she has drunken of it as well…”
Lois smiled, full of love. “I’m thirsty, Smallville.”
Clark pulled out of her abruptly, presenting his cock to her flushed face. Lois closed her eyes and dropped her jaw, unable and unwilling to do anything but swallow as her face and open mouth were showered with voluminous ejaculate.
Then Clark turned to face Lana, his still-erect cock swinging before him, his seed clinging wetly to its tip. With a bemused smile, he unclasped his cape, reached down, wrapped it around Lois, and hoisted her up. Her ankle emerged daintily from her little cocoon, jeans trailing away from it.
“You are a Superman,” Lois muttered.
“And you’re a Superwoman,” Clark told her. “But not the only one.”
Lana stared at him. His cock was still out. Cum still dripped from it. Or was that precum?
“There is no way in hell,” Lana said, shaking with rage, “that you are fucking her and not me.”
Clark nodded solemnly. “We should get her inside. Find her someplace nice and warm to sleep. I think I may have shown off a little.”
“Shown off? You only fucked her for five minutes!”
“But with my speed and vibration, that was like hours of normal sex concentrated into a few seconds.” He shrugged, jostling a happy Lois. “I wanted to wrap things up quickly so you could have your turn.”
“So you can go longer?” Lana asked.
Clark nodded.
“How much longer?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never been with a woman who could keep up with me. Diana and I never actually—“
“So… we could find out? Now?”
“It would be very symmetrical,” Clark agreed. “Having just enough for you and Lois together.”
“Or maybe a little more?” Lana said hopefully.
***
Lois slept soundly, dreaming that she was sandwiched between Clark Kent and Superman, and they were both fucking her so hard she had to scream and scream and—
Lois awoke, jerking up to take in her surroundings and condition in mere seconds. She’d been wiped off with a moist towelette, the mint scent clinging to her, her face and cleavage and tank cleaned of semen. Her pants had been removed altogether—more mintiness over her thighs, where her own juices had been warm and abundant—and a blanket had been thrown over her. She was inside, lying on one of those black leather executive couches that were supposed to be looked at but never actually sat on. And a woman was screaming.
Lois rose, tossing the blanket aside before it could hamper her movement. Her good samaritan may had removed her jeans, but he’d pulled her panties up, and aside from the heated moisture of the damp spot in the front, they were enough for her. She thought, crazily, that Lana had knocked her out and grabbed Superman to keep him for herself—maybe with Kryptonite, because how else could that bitch tear a man away from Lois Lane—but then remembered. Something about Clark—Clark was Superman—saying that it was someone else’s turn.
Remembering fully, Lois stampeded toward the source of the screams that rang through the empty offices with their powered down monitors and shuddered windows. She couldn’t stop herself. And as if her feet had minds of their own, she found herself prowling the executive suite of Lana’s offices, passing empty secretary stations and intern rooms, coming to a simple-looking door that she knew to have a full bedroom, bathroom, and kitchenette inside.
The door rattled and shook like Superman was fucking Lana right against it.
“Now, where did you say you wanted it again?” Lois heard Clark say.
“Where do you think, hubby? There. There! Ohhh, yesss—no, not there!”
“Why not? Seems like a nice fit to me. Nice and tight.”
Lois could hear Lana grimacing. “Maybe too damn tight!”
“No such thing. You can take it. You’ve got such a nice ass.”
She had to see what was happening. Drawing one of the several lockpicks she kept secured on her person, Lois tried the lock. It yielded easily, and she nudged the door open, poking her head through the crack. The bedroom struck her as clean and impersonal—black furnishings, an en suite tap, shower, and even toilet, though that was through a folding partition. Just a place for a weary executive to rest instead of making the trek back home; a status symbol more than anything else.
What drew Lois’s eye was the bed. The sheets had been thrown back, Lana laid out on the mattress, her clothing disassembled. The midi skirt was opened, still lying underneath her, with her panties around both ankles like a pair of manacles. Her blouse, too, had been unwrapped, and lay beneath her bra-clad torso. Her hair had been let out of its chignon, spreading across the pillow like burning embers on the black sheeting. Her red nails dug into the mattress pad. Lana’s pale body stood out in striking contrast, caught between the red of her hair and her garments, and the darkness of her bedding. Together, she and Clark looked like god and goddess.
Clark was on top of her. He had her legs doubled up, her knees pressing firmly into her breasts, his arms around her, holding her in position as he reached under her, fondling her buttocks, teasing her asshole with his cock.
A tingle of delight surged through Lois, like getting a scoop, knowing a secret, finding out something she wasn’t supposed to know—only this was more illicit, dirtier, better. She was watching two people fuck. It had a hypnotic effect, muting all fears of being caught, enhancing all her senses. She was enthralled by their closeness, quivering with anticipation of a pleasure not her own.
“You like my ass?” Lana asked hopefully.
After a love tap on Lana’s bottom, Clark brought his hand up her body, petting her unbound hair. “Every time you wiggle that nice ass, I get hard.”
“Really?”
“Wiggle it and see. Yeah, just like that… yeah, yeah… that nice ass of yours all around my cock, rubbing against me… yeah, I think that’s where you want it…”
“I… yes, I do… I doooo…”
“Thought so.”
Lois’s inquisitive mind turned to perversity with incredible ease. She felt no jealousy, only desperate questions of whether he would fuck her ass, whether he would shove it all the way in as he had with Lois, whether he would keep Lana in that position or manhandle her into another? How it would feel to have Superman moving you around, maneuvering you for his pleasure?
The questions were never answered. Clark released the pressure on Lana’s legs, slipped himself around, moving to her cunt and rubbing his cockhead there, in her splayed slickness. “Later. When Lois can help. You two need to learn how to work as a team.”
And before either of the women could question that, Clark had wrenched himself inside of Lana. All the way in. The way Lana screamed, it was obvious. This was not teasing like before. This was being taken, given over and giving herself over to her new husband, finding her place in their mutual pleasure. Lois could hear it all in her voice. She’d heard many men, many women, watched, listened, sometimes for her job, sometimes for fun. She’d learned the subtle undertones of the connoisseur, imagined what kind of grunts and groans she’d like to hear from Superman as he fucked her, known the moan she herself would make when loving the way her cunt was filled with a long, throbbing prick. The moan she had made.
She knew Lana was gasping partly with need, replacing the shameful memories of all other men with this, the man she could’ve had, the man she belonged with, the commander of deeply lingering lust, her mate and master. She was resigning herself to the wonderful terror of having found the love of her life, steeling herself to have this pleasure be hers, to a future filled with this satisfaction, a lifetime of needing this exact fulfillment, a lifetime that would still never be enough to satisfy her. However much she had loved Clark or Superman before, now she was falling in love with being fucked by him, marrying herself to the way her body could feel in his hands, just as Lois had before her.
It pissed the general’s daughter right the hell off.
She watched with furious eyes as Clark finally finished delivering himself to Lana, the redhead now impossibly aware of just how big he was, how deep her pleasure would go. Lana finished a shamefaced, guttural groan of impalement. Lois saw her force her eyes shut, trying to make peace with how sharp the feeling of penetration was.
“Keep it there,” Lana eked out, her voice breathless. “Just leave it there for a while… don’t move it…”
“Don’t move what?” Clark asked with a wry grin, a bemused look in his eyes. “This?”
Lana screamed, signaling her orgasm as if she wanted Lois to know, the bitch. Her hands flew to her face, fingers clawing powerlessly at her face and hair as she came until her voice could no longer pace her passion, and her climactic scream became soundless. Lois had read Cat Grant’s column, as she read all the Planet’s material to make sure it fit her own high standards. She’d known of Lana’s many lovers—well-traveled playboys, white-hot actors, even a few superheroes (and more than a few other women, if Cat’s gossip was right). But from the way Lana recovered her breath only to gasp weakly, from the way her body trembled as if half-afraid of the pleasures still echoing through it, Lois knew none of them had ever made her come so hard. Indeed, Lois doubted Lana even knew she could orgasm so… completely.
“Shit!” Lana keened when she’d begun to recover. “Yes! Damn you, yes, that! Just leave it in… until I’m done with it…”
“Done with what?” Clark persisted, now full-on smirking. “You’ll have to be more specific.” Again, he petted her hair, this time coming up with a sheen of sweat that had coursed off her drenched body. “Tell me what you want. Exactly.”
Lois shook with rage and need. It felt muggy in the office—hot and sticky, a feeling of wet warmth all over her body. Two of the most prim, proper people she knew, talking to each other like whores, getting a charge out of acting like master and slave. It was almost a game.
“Your cock!” Lana barked. “Your long, hard cock with all its cum! I want it in me.” She smiled darkly, remembering how precise Clark wanted her to be. “I want it in my cunt.”
Lois looked down, suddenly noticing her hand had wandered to her sex.
Now that Lana had admitted what she wanted, Clark gave it to her, as hard as she could take it. Each determined thrust sent peals of her juices running down her body. Lana groaned with pain at the first furious invasion, but her cries quickly turned to ecstasy.
Lois had taken her hand away from her cunt, but only a few inches. Now she returned it. It wasn’t just how hard Clark was fucking Lana. It was that it was Lana Lang was being fucked.
It didn’t take Lana long to come—it didn’t even take long for her to have multiple orgasms—and soon, Clark was done with her, finishing while Lana was still half-conscious. Just before he let himself shoot, he pulled himself from her cunt and shoved his cock in her face. As Lana gasped out her latest orgasm, oblivious to the world, Clark spurted all over his face. Once she realized what it was dripping into her mouth, she eagerly drank the massive load he had poured upon her. Licking her lips as she slumped to the mattress, drained of energy.
“Okay, what the fuck!” Lois demanded, bursting into the room with no less drama than if she were waving a loaded gun around. “I married you first, I have seniority, I never said it was her turn! You should still be fucking me!” She glanced at Lana’s spread-eagled, unclad body, trying hard not to notice the luscious pink slit in her red-haired pussy, or the tongue still working at cleaning her own face of cum. Christ, she was lapping it off the tip of her nose…
Clark smiled at her. “Lois, you’re just going to have to learn how to share.”
“She’s the one who’s not sharing!” Lois insisted. “She stole you in the middle of our date!”
“You were unconscious,” Clark pointed out.
“Haven’t you ever heard of spooning!?” Lois demanded, kicking the bed.
Instead of replying, Clark stood up off the bed, allowing Lana to relax into a practically liquid repose. Walking to Lois, he took her tanktop by the hem and gently pulled it over her head. Lois instinctively moved to cover herself—her bra having been meant to seduce him, and exposing as much as it hid—but with his quiet, understated firmness, Clark took her hands, petting them with his thumbs, and lowered them down to her sides. When he took his hands away, Lois left her arms there, on display to both Clark and Lana. She was still trembling.
She stood stiffly, unsure what to say or do, but trusting Clark bone-deep as he removed her bra as well. She was deeply embarrassed, completely unsure what was happening, but she saw how Lana’s eyes widened at the size of her uncovered bust—perhaps she had believed it all to be padding or silicone, as she’d implied quite a few times—and was a little gratified with how impressed Lana was. Then Clark put his hands on her cheeks, holding her steady for a quick kiss against her forehead—Lois’s lips parted helplessly, wishing it was his mouth against hers—and she turned her head, hiding her face in Clark’s comforting grip as he brushed his face through her wavy black hair.
“You’re not looking at her,” Clark said, his sheer force of personality turning Lois toward Lana’s lush young body against the reporter’s better judgment—or fear.
“Why should I?” Lois asked, her voice too loud, too petulant, sounding shattering against Clark’s deliberately quiet words.
“Look at her,” Clark commanded, in a soft way that brought only a willingness to please and not disappoint. Even Lois didn’t want to rebel against such an voiced order.
She darted an embarrassed glance at Lana: her luscious body, her perky breasts, her blood-red hair, all so endearingly primitive with her competitive fashion and holier-than-thou attitude stripped away… literally. Covered in sweat, gently indulging herself in unhurried breaths, even blushing scarlet under Lois’s gaze, Lana struck her as beautiful. Something Lois had known intellectually—of course, her rival for Superman would be beautiful, as beautiful as her even—but she’d never really felt that beauty. Not the way Clark wanted her to.
“She’s looking at you,” Clark said, in his calm, confident, almost therapeutic voice. He seemed to be ushering Lois away from her anger and jealousy with nothing more than whispered words, brushing touches of his hands. She is looking at me, Lois thought excitedly. That beautiful woman is looking at me. It was invigorating.
Clark knelt down before her, winding his fingers through the waistband of Lois’s panties. He tugged at them with little force, barely causing the fabric to fold, and Lana watched. Lois’s strong face turned bright scarlet and she averted her eyes—then looked back, registering a certain excitement in Lana when she looked at her, and a growing curiosity in how Lana’s eyes traced over her breasts, her lips, her own curious eyes. Her gaze seemed as sly and subtle as Clark’s hands.
Now that Lois stood unafraid—grinning a little, in fact, challenging Lana with her own beauty and confidence in her sexual prowess—Clark removed her panties. Lana’s face lit up, seeing the trim black hair of Lois’s sex, the perfect symmetry of her loins now revealed in full, keeping with the rest of her gorgeous body. Lana squirmed girlishly on the bed, like a child on Christmas morning, and Lois smiled at how taken Lana was.
“We have a custom on Krypton,” Clark said, sitting beside Lana on the bed. He reached out to lovingly stroke Lana’s flank, and Lois found herself wishing it was her hand feeling how smooth Lana’s body was. “There’s no fighting within marriage. When two partners come into conflict, they have sex. After that, the problem usually ends up resolved.”
“That’s a good custom,” Lois said.
“And Lois knows a lot about eating pussy.”
For once, Lois took the jab without offense. “That I do…”
She crawled atop the bed.
Lana opened her legs.
Clark closed the door and locked it.
This was nothing the night watchman needed to see.
