AN: This is about s sexy as these are going to get, so you are warned in advance that this is HEAVY PG-13. HEAVY.

With that said, thanks to the few of you still reading and reviewing. I feel its almost the fandom’s responsibility to keep posting stories and reviewing them just in case someone at WB might take a look and see that we are still interested and that we enjoyed the storyline of SR. Sigh… so thanks go toBuilt on the Horizon, JJ the elusive, Lilbit4, and Eviefan for reviewing. And to Eviefan for beta reading, too, and putting up with me as a needy writer.

Naked Truth (Sat Jan 14)

Two house fires. One bank robbery. A car explosion. A collapsed bridge. Kids lost on a mountain. Just a few tasks in the never ending cycle of hero work. When I’d manage to finish with one problem, I would become aware of another. I’d lived like this my whole life and I’d hardly ever complained about it. After all, I didn’t have that much else to do but help people in trouble.

But things were different now. I had a place to be at night. I had someone to be with. Someone I wanted to be with more than anything. Yet I had to stay focused on my mission. I promised myself I would make it up to her. I tried every night to make it up to her. And so far she hadn’t complained. Still, I knew that complaint was coming.

So tonight when I arrived home, after being gone virtually all day, I was very ready to hear that complaint. I scanned the house to find her in the bathroom putting lotion on her legs. She was naked and her hair was up in a towel. Dear God, she was so beautiful.

She didn’t seem upset or out of sorts in anyway, so I took advantage of her calm demeanor and quietly entered the house intent on surprising her. It wasn’t quite ten o’clock yet. Maybe this way whatever argument she may have in store for me could be brief. Maybe she would forgive me more readily if I swept her off her feet and carried her to bed before she could even get her pajamas on.

Very quietly I changed out of my clothes and slipped into the bathroom behind her. She had her back to the door, so she didn’t see me until she caught my reflection in the mirror.

“Clark!” she squealed and grabbed at her towel to wrap it around her body.

Before she could cover herself, I pulled her against me kissing her deeply.

“Wait,” she said, still trying to get the towel around her.

“I’m sorry I was gone all day,” I mumbled against her mouth as I tugged the offending towel aside, picked her up, and carried her into the bedroom. “I know you hate that.”

I placed her gently on the bed and she hurriedly scampered under the covers. “I’m not upset.”

“Good.” I crawled in next to her.

“I know you have to take care of things as they come at you.”

My hand slid over her hip. “I do, and I’d like to take care of you now.”

“You have no control over when—”

I planted another deep kiss on her mouth, stopping her from making any other sound but a sexy moan of desire. Brushing the covers out of the way, I explored the curves of her body as my tongue made love to her mouth.

“Wait,” she gasped, tugging on the covers again.

“I don’t want to wait,” I said, pulling them away from her again and blazing a path of kisses over her shoulders and neck.

“Just turn off the lights, first.”

“Why? I want to see you.”

“Please, just turn off the lights.”

There was an edge to her voice that I couldn’t quite place. She sounded almost frightened, which made me instantly worried. “What’s wrong?” I said, taking a break from my kisses to look down at her.

To my shock, she wouldn’t fully meet my eyes. She tugged at the covers again, shifting to try to cover herself, and only briefly allowing me to see the shame hiding behind her expression. It was fleeting, but it was there.

Which left me more than slightly confused.

“Lois?”

“It’s nothing,” she fawned a smile. “Let’s just turn off the lights and pick up where we left off.”

Before her hand could reach the bed side lamp, I caught it, halting its progress. “I like the lights on.”

She inhaled and gave me that look that said she was screwing up all her courage and giving the brave face. “Alright. We’ll… keep the lights on then.”

She blinked, smiled tentatively, and repositioned herself underneath me. Somehow, the action made it seem as if she were shrinking. Or maybe that she was trying to shrink. Whatever it was, it wasn’t at all like her.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“Nothing. Just… let’s forget it.” She kissed me, pulling me closer to her, using my body to cover her.

It wasn’t as if I minded the position. Not at all! I liked being here. What bothered me was the way she continued to keep herself covered. Instead of stretching out and using her body the way she normally did when we made love, she kept to herself. Like she was closing in on herself. Which didn’t fit at all. Lois Lane was larger than life. She enjoyed the spot light – sought after it and reveled in it. Why would she be trying to hide now? And from me?

“Close your eyes,” she mumbled against my lips.

Which sealed the deal for me. “Okay, that’s it,” I said somewhat sharply. “What is going on with you?” I sat up and almost immediately she grabbed for the covers and pulled them over her naked body.

“What do you mean?”

It was as if she didn’t want me to see something on her body. “Did you get a tattoo… or a piercing you don’t want me to see?”

“What? No! I don’t have any tattoos. That’s… why would you… no. That’s… it’s…no.”

Now she was stuttering. Something was really off. “Why don’t you want me to see you? Why do you keep covering yourself up?”

She wet her lips and held my stare. “I just… um… I’m not… who I used to be, Clark.”

I pulled my brows down in confusion. “Meaning?”

“My… body. It’s… you know.”

“Beautiful?”

She rolled her eyes and growled. “Don’t be like that? Don’t be the innocent farm boy now.”

“I’m not. I’m telling the truth.”

“Oh, please. I am not some spring chicken. I’m not saying I’m dog meat, but I’m not going to win any beauty pageants, either.”

I couldn’t hold in the laugh at that image.

Her face flushed. “See, you get it now. My body is… old.”

“Wait a minute! That is not why I’m laughing. The thought of you, a self professed women’s libber, at a beauty pageant wearing a skimpy hot pink dress and over sized earrings, answering questions about world peace and your favorite thing to do on a date, is just too good to ignore. It has nothing to do with how beautiful you are.”

From the expression on her face, I could tell she wasn’t convinced. “I’m in my fifties, Clark. I’m glad you find me attractive, but I know what my body looks like.”

“So, do I,” I said darkly. “I’ve seen you naked. I like you naked. We’ve spent hours and hours together being naked. What’s the big deal all of a sudden?”

“You want to keep the lights on!” she lashed out quickly. “We’ve only ever made love in the dark.”

“We’ve made love in the morning.”

“Yeah, and there have been covers… as well as foggy morning pre-caffeine brain.”

I made a face at her. “You’re joking, right? You think that because it’s been dark or I haven’t had a cup of coffee that I haven’t been able to see your body?”

She shrugged and looked down at her fingers, which were still holding the covers close to her body.

“You are aware I have X-ray vision, aren’t you?” I teased.

But she wasn’t in a playful mood. “I am aware that you are too much of a gentleman to go looking through a woman’s clothing when you weren’t invited to do so.”

“Wow. Here I thought that you accepting my marriage proposal and making love to me repeatedly was kind of an open invitation to see you naked. I guess I was wrong.”

Her shoulders slumped. “Don’t be an ass, Clark. You know what I mean.”

“And you should know that I do think you are beautiful.”

Again her eyes rolled back into her head as she shook it in disagreement.

“Well, you’re just going to have to convince me,” I sighed. “Show me what is so very offensive about your body that I couldn’t possibly want to see you naked with all the lights on.”

“I’m old, for one thing.”

“Hardly,” I chuckled. “You make it sound like you’re geriatric!”

“Compared to you, I am. You don’t look any different from the first time we made love!”

“I’m older, too.”

“I have grey hair,” she said.

“So do I.”

She scowled. “Oh, you do not.”

I tipped my head down so that she could see the crown. “Look. Little flecks of grey all though it.”

With a snort she said, “You think three little flecks can compare to the fact that I’ve been dying my hair every six weeks for the last ten years?”

“Name a woman in the public eye who doesn’t?”

She sneered at me. “You have no wrinkles. I do.”

“Look at my eyes. There are wrinkles around my eyes. And on my forehead.”

“Those are natural.”

“And they are more pronounced than they were ten years ago,” I countered.

“Yeah well, pronounced doesn’t begin to describe mine. I use lotions and creams and make up to cover mine up. I’m seriously considering botox.”

“You want your face frozen?”

“If it means I won’t age for a while so that I can compare to you? Yes.”

My eyes were the ones that rolled this time. “You’re being silly.”

“Am I? Have you seen your body? Are you aware of how perfect the muscles are? The shape? You have no fat, no cellulite, no excess baggage, no stretch marks!”

“Stretch marks?”

“From pregnancy. My stomach is the worst offender to the beauty issue.”

“Why are you even comparing yourself to me?” I puzzled.

“Because I know that your body is standing still in time while mine is rapidly deteriorating. Very soon, sooner than you care to admit, I’m going to be old and decrepit and you are still going to look like a cover model.”

“You will never be decrepit,” I said evenly.

“Yes, I will be. These little flaws that you brush off now will just get bigger, making our differences that much more obvious. And then what will happen? What will happen to us?”

It was as if a gun had gone off in the room silencing the conversation, for that was the whole point of her worry and fear. That was at the crux of the matter. I understood it now. No matter how strong of a woman Lois was, she was as susceptible to insecurities as everyone else. She thought that as she grew older I would grow less attracted to her.

How very wrong she was.

“Lois,” I said, letting my hand trail down her cheek to her shoulder. “What will happen is that I will continue to love you. I will always love you. If you think my love for you is based solely on your appearance, you are very wrong. I love your strength, your wit, your talent as a reporter. I love that you won’t let anything stop you from getting what you want. I love you for everything that makes you who you are.”

“I know,” she sighed. “You’ve never really been the type to go after brainless hot chicks. But as much as I appreciate that, a part of me wants to be… somewhat of a hot chick. Not brainless, but the hot chick part is appealing.”

I gazed into her eyes, hoping she could feel the weight of my words when I said, “You are very sexy, Lois.”

She shook her head no. “I was, sure. But now… don’t make me list the flaws all over again.”

“Let’s see, what were they? Grey hair?” I ran my fingers through the mass of thick hair flowing around her shoulders. “I don’t care what color it is. It’s long and it’s thick and it smells good. And if tomorrow it was all gone, I’d still love you.”

She smirked at me.

“Wrinkles? Wasn’t that next? When I first met you, I thought you were about five years younger than you really were. Now I see a mature, competent woman who has lived her life to the fullest and still looks young for her age. In fact, a few months ago I heard someone you were talking to accuse you of lying to them when you said you had a grown son. You do not look your age, Lois. You never have and you never will.”

“Fine,” she gave in with a flip of her hair and slumped down under the covers. “I suppose. But you will never convince me that you don’t notice the imperfections on my body.”

“I never said I didn’t notice them,” I correct.

She blinked up at me. “Great. So you do know they are there.”

“Yes, I do,” I confirmed, slowly pulling the covers down so that I could see her delicate form. “Like you said, Lois, you had a baby.” I traced her shape down her shoulder, over her round breast, and rested my hand on her belly. “You’re body is different.”

She stiffened, and a shameful look came over her face.

“But that doesn’t mean I don’t think your body is beautiful for it.”

Before she could ask me what I meant, I leaned over her and kissed her deeply. My hand repeated the path up and down her body, following her feminine curves. “Your body carried our baby, Lois. This amazing, fragile, gorgeous body of yours sheltered him, nurtured him, and gave him life.”

With hot kisses my mouth covered the same route my hands had been taking. I lingered at her breasts, reveling in how soft they were. She moaned as my lips drifted lower until I circled my tongue around her belly button. Then I stopped deliberately over her stomach, focusing on the tiny marks on her skin.

“These stretch marks that you find so offensive,” I started, “are the proof, Lois. These nearly imperceptible marks are the only physical sign that I have that you were ever pregnant. We loved each other and this was the result. How could I ever think they were ugly?”

Proving my point, I delicately kissed each and every mark on her skin repeatedly until Lois’s heart rate was such that I knew she was convinced. She pulled me up to her mouth for a passionate kiss. She wantonly opened her body to me, completely unashamed and desperate to bring the whole conversation to a euphoric conclusion.

I gladly obliged.

The lights stayed on for most of the night as we took turns exploring each other. I hoped that she would never again worry about these issues, but I knew it was only a matter of time before I’d have to remind her that I would always love her regardless of the color of her hair.

The next evening, even though I had to be in Italy to take care of an earthquake, I made sure she would find a rose and a note waiting for her on her pillow. I don’t know what she thought when she read it, but I do know that she kept it. As unsentimental as she tries to appear, she kept the note and the rose pressed between the pages of her copy of “The Elements of Journalism.”

My dear Lois –

The words are not mine, but I could find no better way to fully express of how much I love you. So forgive me for stealing from Thomas Moore.

Believe me, if all those endearing young charms,

Which I gaze on so fondly today,

Were to change by to-morrow, and fleet in my arms,

Like fairy gifts fading away

Thou wouldst still be adored as this moment thou art,

Let thy loveliness fade as it will,

And around the dear ruin, each wish of my heart

Would entwine itself verdantly still.

It is not while beauty and youth are thine own,

And thy cheeks unprofaned by a tear,

That the fervor and faith of a soul can be known,

To which time will but make thee more dear.

No, the heart that has truly loved, ne'er forgets,

But as truly loves on to the close,

As the sunflower turns on her God, when he sets,

The same look which she turned when he rose.

I love you!

Clark