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Almost exactly five and a half hours after Lois hung up with the oh-so-polite and thoroughly obstructive aide at the Themysciran Embassy, there was a brisk knock at her apartment door. Which, upon reflection, she probably should have seen coming. Diana really did have a habit of just showing up at their place whenever she pleased, which was usually a source of tremendous consternation for Lois. If she had to go through six layers of security and five overprotective staff members to so much as leave a message for Diana, it didn't seem fair that Diana could just drop in on Lois without even the courtesy of a phone call. Really, if she insisted on filtering everything through her "people," couldn't she have her "people" call Lois back and set up a date for coffee or something?
Today, though, she found she was actually glad, because this was her house, her space, not remotely neutral territory, and with Diana, sometimes you needed every advantage you could get.
Though honestly, the way Diana settled demurely onto the couch like she owned it, they might just as well have been meeting at the royal plaza on Paradise Island.
"You want anything to drink?" offered Lois, in a mixture of ingrained politeness and a desire to reassert her apartment as hers.
"No, thank you," Diana smiled. "I was just at dinner with Donna."
Lois sank down into the chair opposite. "Is that why you're incognito?"
Diana was never completely incognito, of course -- there weren't a lot of world-famous female celebrities out there who were six foot four inches of solid muscle and perfect curves -- but she was dressed unobtrusively, dark suit pants and a long-sleeved wine-red blouse that mostly hid the silver of her bracers and the gold glint of the lariat around her waist. And she'd been wearing a stylishly floppy hat and sunglasses when she'd come inside.
"Oh, no. That was a private engagement. But I thought it might be best if Wonder Woman weren't seen dropping by the Lane-Kent apartment after normal social hours."
"Right," said Lois, and didn't comment that in that case she probably shouldn't have used the front door. It wasn't as though she didn't hop in through the window the way Clark did often enough. "Thanks."
"It's no trouble. Sometimes it's nice not to be recognized."
And that was the truly frustrating thing about Diana -- how damnably difficult it was to resist that magnetic, superhuman charisma of hers. You could have a perfectly good, petty little groove going and she'd just casually and inconsiderately shatter it with an offhand reminder of how incredibly demanding her life was. And she didn't even have the decency to whine about it, no, she had to be all gracious and self-depreciating and mercilessly draw out your compassion.
"So, what can I do for you?"
Lois sank down into the chair opposite the couch, locked her eyes on Diana's, summoned her most intense, no-nonsense hard-hitting interviewer voice, and took the plunge.
"Tell me about Asgard."
Diana's face, which had been open and casual, flickered grave, and Lois could see the shift as the family friend faded away and the skilled diplomat slid into her place. "I would think you would ask your husband," she parried, with infuriating poise.
"He doesn't remember," said Lois sourly. "Says it's all like a dream, one long nightmare of violence and missing me. Just a handful of meaningless images and strange names he can't quite place."
"You don't believe him."
"I don't know what to believe. You remember."
Diana closed her eyes briefly, an expression Lois couldn't quite place -- pain? resignation? -- then gave a slow nod. "The realms of the gods are not suited to the mortal mind. Not even a mortal such as Kal. I am honestly a little surprised that he remembers it at all."
"And what about you?"
Diana smiled at her, but it wasn't a happy smile. "I have never been wholly mortal. I am even less so since my death."
Lois flinched.
"If he says he doesn't remember, I can think of no reason to disbelieve him," continued Diana smoothly, the diplomat clicking easily back into place. "And if he did remember, there would be little to tell. Should he tell you of the Battle of the Black Field, and the carnage there? The valor of Thrudr on the Sea of Tears? It would mean less to you than it did to him, and that was little enough already. Do you care to hear the stench of an army camp described, or the flavor of half-raw mutton, or the bone-searing screech of a vrtgsmith scout flier? He was a hero there, but no less a prisoner for it. He spent a thousand years buried in death and magic. Let it lie, Lois. You're both happier for his having forgotten it."
"And what about you?" said Lois, striking viciously at the opening the moment she saw it. "Are you happier for his having forgotten it? A hundred decades together with no one but each other to rely on, a millennium of sleeping in the same tent and nothing changed between you, nothing happened that you wish he could still remember?" She glared cuttingly across the space between them. "Or did things change and you'd rather he not remember."
Diana, of course, was unflappably calm. "In a thousand years, of course we grew closer. After two hundred we barely needed to speak to each other. After six hundred we almost knew each other's thoughts across a battlefield. We had a million habits and traditions and jokes that no one but we could understand that I now carry alone. Someday he may break a promise to me that he no longer realizes he made." She shrugged her shoulders almost diffidently. "But I would much rather lose that than see Kal lose his mind. He's my best friend, and Fates willing, will always remain so; the rest is, as your people say, just details."
"We also say the devil's in the details," Lois shot back. "You said he never wanted anyone but me, in all that time, and God knows why, but I believe you. But you never said what you wanted, Diana. You never said whether or not you tried."
"I wasn't aware that was a question," said Diana placidly, and the Army brat in Lois very nearly punched her in the face. Only a combination of sheer strength of will and the knowledge that she'd probably just break her fist if she tried it kept her in her seat.
Instead, she bit down hard and channeled the impulse into a comparatively sedate snarl. "Of course it is! What does fidelity or monogamy mean to an amazon? You live for three thousand years, you don't have marriages, you have high holidays that call for religious orgies! You're Wonder Woman, Diana, I trust you to be the most scrupulously ethical person this side of Mary Marvel, but how can I trust you with my husband when I don't know what those ethics are?"
Diana gave her a level look. "I would think the only important question would be whether you trust Kal."
"I trust Clark," said Lois. "But Diana, have you met yourself? You could probably seduce me if you tried. Clark loves you more than life itself already. If you turned the charm on him he wouldn't stand a chance."
"For someone you love enough to commit your life to, you seem to have an astonishingly low opinion of your husband," said Diana, one eyebrow raised in perfect skepticism.
"Just say the words, Diana," Lois snapped. "Just promise me you'll never sleep with him."
"And that would assuage your fears?"
"Yes."
In one smooth motion, Diana uncoiled an end of the lariat from her waist and flicked it over to wrap loosely around Lois' wrist. "If I swore never to touch Kal, would that truly relieve you of the stress and upset you feel about my relationship with him?"
There was no commanding surge of magic, just a faint warm tingle on her skin, but Lois raised her chin anyway, glared into those sharp blue eyes, and said a firm, steady Yes -- which tumbled haplessly out of her mouth as a shaky, reluctant "No."
She dropped the lasso like it burned and stood, turning her back on the amazon. "Dirty pool, Diana," she gritted.
There was a moment's pause, but the apology Lois was more than half expecting never came -- instead, without warning, a soft, warm hand curled gently around her shoulder, fingertips sliding just under the edge of the wide neck of Lois' shirt to rest light against her collarbone. "You do not give yourself enough credit," said Diana softly. "You have a rare talent with words, a gift for building a world around your reader and directing her however you please. You have courage that an amazon would envy, to face monsters and gods without flinching time and again. You have a love of victory matched only by your passion for justice, a fire to turn your talents against the Lex Luthors of the world rather than to your own gain." The fingers slid, impossibly slow and so faint Lois could almost believe she was imagining it, down the line of her clavicle, and Diana's voice lowered, faded, until it was just a faint breath in her ear, "And you are very beautiful." There was a firm, warm pressure on her hip, Diana's other hand teasing along the hem of her shirt. "How can you doubt Kal's devotion to you, or your right to it?"
Lois couldn't move, couldn't breathe, could barely think, her whole body suddenly tingling with awareness, her heart thudding loud and quick in her ears. "Wh... what are you doing, Diana?"
"Testing your theory," purred Diana, hands moving with more purpose now, snaking under her shirt to stroke long, tantalizing trails across her stomach and slip the loop of her bra strap down through her sleeve.
Clark, thought Lois, but the thought was dim and seemed a long way away, and Diana's hands and breath and the heat of her body were so unbearably present, so impossibly close. "Diana --"
Diana kissed her shoulder, the unmistakable pressure of soft lips against her naked skin just below the line where her hair fell, simultaneously reverent and seductive. "Yes?"
"Diana, I can't --"
"Oh, I think you're entirely capable," murmured Diana, kissing her again, a little lower, a little harder.
"That's not -- Diana --"
If she said no, Diana would stop. Lois knew this with every fiber of her being. Insanely powerful amazon royalty though she was, all Lois had to do was open her mouth. If she said no, Diana would stop.
The faint scratch of short, perfectly manicured nails made the muscles of her stomach jump just as Diana placed another tantalizing kiss on her shoulder.
"God, yes," she said, and against her skin, she felt Diana smile.
And then any shadow of hesitation was gone, Diana's touch and the curl of her arms around Lois' body turning swiftly possessive, a corded arc of heat against her ribs even through the silk of her blouse and the thin cotton of Lois' own shirt. Clark was warm, always warm, even in the coldest, deadest depths of winter -- like a rock left out in the sun, smooth and soothing to the touch, comfortable and unique, just a few degrees hotter than anything human -- or at least Lois had thought it was unique, but Diana, somehow, was the same, the exact same, heat and strength and safety wrapped around her like it would never stop, and Lois knew this wasn't right but it didn't feel that way, couldn't feel like cheating when it felt so much like Clark. The shape against her back was all wrong, the voice too throaty and alto, but the hands, the wandering caresses that quivered with meticulous care to never press with even a fraction too much strength -- she knew those hands, she craved them.
Lois scrabbled for the hem of her shirt and peeled it off, her unhooked bra tangled in it, and the slide of fabric over her skin left prickling electricity in its wake. "So ready," murmured Diana, rolling a thumb languidly over a newly exposed nipple, and Lois shuddered and grabbed backward, locking her fingers around a powerful thigh.
"So what's the holdup, then?" she challenged as she caught her breath, rocking her hips back against the amazon, and Diana smiled into her shoulder again, but obliged, an elegant hand rambling downward, past the waistband of Lois' pants, the metal of her bracer a cool contrast to the heat of her skin, and when had she rolled up her sleeve? -- and then her fingers slid between Lois' folds and nothing else mattered but that slick teasing touch, a meandering, almost exploratory wander between and around her cunt and clit without ever quite touching either.
Then suddenly she curled a finger inside and Lois gasped, her hips bucking involuntarily, only to gasp again when Diana slipped just as easily out. "Dammit, Diana --" she growled warningly, but the amazon just laughed, low and bright, in her ear. Another downstroke and Lois' legs shook, and her other hand dug behind her to latch around the arc of Diana's pelvis, fingers digging wildly into that perfect dip and swell of muscle and bone that Lois normally so envied. It was actually quite difficult to be jealous of Diana's beauty -- it was something akin to being jealous of a sunset or a nice view of the Grand Canyon, something so natural and so far beyond human that it wouldn't even occur to a person to try -- but Lois usually managed anyway. She'd made a science of it, even, cataloging every clean line and graceful curve and every little way in which she herself fell short.
And yet tonight she was thankful for it, grateful to her own god and every single one of Diana's that she could see every inch of that perfect body so clearly in her mind's eye. Here, now, with Diana's teeth nipping sharp against her shoulder and Diana's hands like fire against her skin and between her thighs, all that beauty was hers, and she closed her eyes against the pleasure, holding onto that image as the glide of strong fingers set her panting and shaking and drove all other thought out of her head.
And that was how they were standing -- Lois naked from the waist up and quivering like a leaf, clinging to Diana's hips behind her for balance, her head thrown back against Diana's shoulder, Diana's left hand teasing at her breasts and her right buried in Lois' slacks -- when Clark came through the door.
He stopped cold, and Lois could read everything in his body -- half hurt, half aroused, completely bewildered, his eyes were liquid confusion as he stammered out a hesitant, pleading, "D... Diana...?"
Lois lifted her head, about to -- well, she didn't actually know what she was about to, but Diana didn't miss a beat, ending a long slow stroke with a sudden quick pressure on Lois' clit that drew an involuntary moan out of her and made her drop back against that perfect shoulder. Smooth and seductive, the amazon murmured, "Welcome home, Kal." Another slow thrust and she milked another moan out of Lois for emphasis. "Your wife has been feeling unlovable lately. Come help me correct that misconception."
And then she was rolling Lois' clit slowly between her fingers and Lois was gasping, tumbling back toward the edge again, and the sound went right to Clark's cock, already straining visibly against the zipper of his khakis. He took a half-step forward, still clearly uncertain but responding to an ingrained obedience that Lois couldn't even be angry at, because who could ever have told that voice no?
"Lois --" he said, lost and befuddled and longing, and then "Diana, I... I don't --"
"Take off your pants, Kal."
He nodded, started to fumble with his belt, and Diana eased the tempo of her hands on Lois' body as she laughed, restoring some semblance of conscious thought to the reporter. "Slowly, now. Give her a show."
Clark blushed -- of course he blushed -- but he smiled lasciviously in the same breath, the last of his confusion overcome by desire, and slid his belt off with a teasing flick, kicked his shoes off with a predatory grin, and peeled his pants and briefs off in one motion with a surprisingly smooth roll of his hips. On another day, Lois might have taken issue with his definition of "slow," but for now the hard lines of his thighs, the round slope of his ass, and the length of his cock curving out from between his shirttails, not to mention Diana's fingers circling careless on her stomach and between her legs, were making her feel unusually charitable.
"Beautiful, isn't he?" murmured Diana in her ear, and Clark grinned with almost boyish pride, floating forward a half-inch off the ground and then sinking to his knees to slowly strip off Lois' slacks. For a long moment, he paused, eyes wide and dark, watching Diana's hand move against Lois with something like awe, until Diana said, a hint of laughter in her voice, "Kal, stand up."
He did, and then impulsively, leaned in and caught Lois' mouth with his own, wrapping her arms in his hands and kissing her deep and hungry before turning to work his way down her jaw. Diana's lips moved on her ear, soft and wet, before she breathed a questioning, "condom?"
"I -- ah -- mm," Lois said, then managed, "I'm on the pill," just before Clark hit the curve of her shoulder and she momentarily lost the ability to speak entirely.
Diana made a quiet "hmn" noise that was probably approval, and then suddenly her right hand was just gone.
"Hey!" protested Lois plaintively, just as Clark said "oh" and went totally still, quivering, fingers frozen a half-inch away from her skin. Lois glanced down and her own eyes went wide; Diana was palming his cock, her hand still slick with Lois' pleasure, and Clark closed his eyes and shook as she slid, languid, up and down his length, rolling a leisurely thumb over the head with every stroke, even as her other hand feathered hot circles on Lois' breasts and her teeth traced the cord of Lois' neck.
And just as Lois thought she might explode with the taunting of touching everywhere but where she needed it, Diana was guiding Clark between her thighs and Clark was lifting her legs around his waist and she was crying out wordlessly as he sank deep inside her, a torturous moan ripping free from his throat. Diana slid her grip seamlessly from his cock to Lois' clit, tracing a searing rhythmic sort of figure-eight around him and against her, bringing her left hand down against Lois' back to brace her. Lois dug her fingers into Clark's shoulders as he thrust slowly, keeping the same deep, measured tempo Diana had used on him.
Lois felt a brief flare of jealousy at that silent connection, and growled, "Pick up the pace, Kansas," sharp and breathless. He smiled wide, but obeyed, as Diana's laugh buzzed against her shoulder.
And then there was no room for jealousy or instructions or anything at all except pleasure, as Clark moved inside her and Diana stroked against her and kissed her way down Lois' back, tongue and teeth and lips sending fire up her spine as liquid pleasure pooled at the base of it and she felt Clark let go, shuddering and silent, just a moment before her own orgasm hit, a blinding pressure and release that had her screaming and collapsing backward into Diana's arms.
They let her down gently, Clark pulling out of her with slow care and letting her lean against Diana until she had her legs again. Lois watched Clark as she grounded herself. His tie and glasses were askew, his shirttails stained and sticky, and his left big toe was sticking out through a hole in his sock -- he looked well-fucked and adorable, and Lois decided she wouldn't examine too closely the abject love and devotion in his eyes. For the sake of her own sanity, she'd just assume it was directed at her.
And the odd thing was, he was still half-dressed and Diana hadn't so much as taken out her hair clip, but even though she wasn't wearing a stitch of clothing, Lois didn't feel particularly exposed. But then, it made sense that being in Wonder Woman's arms could have that effect. Certainly Diana herself never looked remotely naked, even when she was. Maybe it was transferable by contact.
Suddenly and with great chagrin, Lois realized that, in fact, Diana hadn't so much as taken out her hair clip. She turned awkwardly in the amazon's grasp and looked up at her -- and for just a second, the sight stole her breath away, the deep care and quiet passion in that regal face, and her eyes were the exact same shade of blue but they were nothing, nothing like Clark's at all.
"Diana...?"
She answered the unspoken question with a smile. "This was never about me, Lois."
Lois gave that a good ten seconds of thought, then snaked one hand around Diana's neck, said, "All the same," and went up on her toes and kissed her, deeply and thoroughly.
Then she leaned back, took a moment to savor the taste of her and the sheer, stupefied shock in the amazon's expression, and strutted off to the shower, feeling better about Diana in general and her relationship to Clark in particular than she had in a very, very long time.