Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Hellacre13 asked me to write a gap filler for the Young Romance Valentine's Day Special. I actually hadn't considered writing such a story, and I thought the one she wrote was quite well done (Truth or Dare, a Young Romance, Aftermath). I didn't want to go thumping through someone else's rose garden, if you will. So I opted to go a slightly different route. I think Superman 19 will address what happened in the special, so this story is definitely a "What If" scenario.
Moody Diana vs. Cute Clark
It had been hours since Superman had returned to the Fortress of Solitude, carrying a green and deathly still Kara in his overburdened arms. Diana and Superboy had followed. Diana had checked in with Cyborg and Batman, the aftermath of the near destruction of Earth by H'El had left many dead and injured. All of the Justice League was busy, doing what they could, saving and helping whom they could. Not knowing how she could be of assistance to Superman or Kara, Diana had only stayed at the Fortress long enough to watch an intense and haggard Superman tend to his cousin.
He never glanced up from his work, and he didn't notice when she'd slipped out of the room. She wasn't needed. Superboy was there. Clark had his family around him, he didn't need her right then. But there were those who did, victims in need of Wonder Woman. So she'd left.
Clark was asleep when Diana returned. His large frame was slumped awkwardly in a chair beside Kara's bed, eyes closed, mouth slightly parted. Kon was no better. His thin but strong frame reclined between two metal chairs, a weird, uncomfortable looking position that only a lithe teenager could manage.
And then there was Kara. The young woman seemed to be sleeping peacefully, her breaths slow, strong, and even. Diana didn't know what Clark had done, but whatever it was, the woman no longer glowed Kryptonite green, no longer appeared to be minutes away from death. But she was pale, which, all things considered, was probably a good sign.
Deciding that no child, even a super one, should spend the night the way Kon had contorted himself, Diana went to him and gingerly lifted the boy into her arms. She flew to the room Clark had given to Kon, placed him in the bed, and then pulled off his boots before covering the teen with a navy blue blanket. He never stirred, not even when she closed the door.
And neither had Clark. The fact that he hadn't was a testament to his level of fatigue. He should've heard her, sensed the presence of another in his arctic home. But when Diana went to touch his shoulder she heard him say, "Are you planning on carrying me to bed as well?"
Ah, she should have known. "I have no intention of carrying a grown Kryptonian to bed. I was merely going to wake you."
"Pity." He opened his eyes, and she was right. Clark was exhausted. The eyes never lied. He stood, looked down at Kara, and ran a loving finger over her hand. "She's stable now. She'll be fine."
Not much could hurt a Kryptonian, this Diana knew. But one rare, green ore could, and Kara had used it to stop H'El, the man she loved. The man who nearly destroyed Earth to reclaim the long-dead planet of Krypton, H'El, the man who'd Kara Zor-El had fought beside against her family and the Justice League.
And, yes, H'El had lied and manipulated Kara. And, yes, Diana had a certain amount of sympathy for her, wished no harm to come to Clark's cousin. But . . .
"I'm pleased you were able to help her, Clark. Perhaps now you will help yourself."
"I'm unhurt, Diana. H'El was formidable, but I've sustained no lasting injuries."
That's where he was wrong. The injuries were there, just where the most harmful and potent ones always resided. On the inside. But Clark understood the meaning behind her words, of that Diana was certain.
"You need to rest. Right now you're no good to Kara, yourself, or anyone else."
He sighed, "You're right." Tucking in covers that needed no adjustment, Clark took one last look at Kara, and then followed Diana out of the room.
"You haven't even changed out of your uniform," she said to him once they were in the hallway. Clark's eyes roamed down her body, a familiar arch to his eyebrow. "Yes, yes, I know I'm still wearing mine as well, but I've been working and haven't been home."
Leading the way, Diana walked down the hallway, past Kon's room and to the bathroom at the end of the long hallway. The door was already opened, and with an arch of her own brow, she motioned for Clark to enter.
Once they were inside, Diana turned on the shower. It didn't take long for the water to heat and the steam to begin to rise.
"Take off your uniform and get inside."
"You know, honey, I don't think you could sound any more imperious if you tried."
He was right, so Diana ignored him.
In spite of his words, Clark did as she'd asked . . . well, okay, commanded.
"Are you planning on joining me, sweetie?" his voice rang from the shower, overtop of the exhaust.
No, she had no intention of joining Clark in the shower. They both knew what would happen if she did, and they both needed rest. Besides, there was no way Diana was having sex with Clark with his family nearby. No way in Hades.
"I don't hear any rustling of clothes out there."
"And you won't, so just finish your ablutions." Before Clark could respond, Diana hastily left the bathroom. She was tired and moody and didn't wish to be seduced into Clark's bed tonight. Nor did she want to argue with him. No, Diana had only returned to the Fortress because of her concern for Clark and Kara. Kara was swiftly recovering from the poison, and after a few uninterrupted hours of sleep, Clark would be in a better state of mind to think about the fallout of this H'El mess. And Diana knew there would definitely be questions asked, concerns raised, with Superman being held accountable.
By the time Clark entered his bedroom, Diana had already lowered the lights, pulled down his sheets, and set out a pair of sleep shorts. Unlike Diana who preferred to sleep in the nude, Clark, she'd learned over the last few weeks, normally slept in boxers or shorts.
"So you refuse to carry me to bed or take a shower with me, but you'll tuck me in? Is that right, kitten?"
Diana met the challenge in Clark's eyes, his words as much as the glistening body before her. The blasted man wore nothing at all, not even a towel to cover the parts of him Diana did not need to be reminded of right now. Not if she wanted to maintain some semblance of propriety.
"Pick one what?"
"You know what. Just pick one, Clark. I don't really care, just pick one and be done with it."
He scratched his chin, his eyes going to the ceiling in mock concentration. She was so not in the mood for Cute Clark right now. Cute Clark was about to meet Moody Diana if he didn't stop playing games with her and get in the damn bed so she could go home and fall into a twelve hour coma.
"Well, I don't know, pussy-cat. There are so many choices. You are a sweetheart, but you also taste of honey." He stepped closer. "Have I ever told you that? That your womanly sex tastes like the sticky, sweet nectar?"
Diana swallowed hard but didn't move back.
"I'm pretty sure you've got me addicted. So, yeah, I like calling you 'honey.' But . . . well, you are also full of sugary goodness that I like to call you 'sugar' as well."
"Amazons," she said, fighting not to grind her teeth at his obvious attempt to annoy her, "are not referred to by such sexist terms of endearment."
"I thought you liked them. You never complained when I used them while we're making love."
"When we're making love, Clark, I can barely hear myself think over top of both of our screams. And, during those times, I really don't care."
He touched her cheek. "What's got you all turned in knots, Diana? I'm just playing with you, you know that."
She did know. They did this all the time and neither one ever took offense.
Clark's face was close, eyes sincere, voice full of concern when he asked, "Is it . . . well, you know . . . that time of the month, dumpling?"
And she wanted to smack him, right in his, now smirking, Cute Clark face.
"Good night, Superman." Diana spun on her heels and away from the laughing Kryptonian.
"Come on, come on, doll-face, I'm just teasing you."
Doll-face? That's it.
With speed Diana only ever used outside, she turned and flew at Clark, catching him by his shoulders and by surprise. Lifting, she slammed him into the wall. It didn't give, which was why they only ever made love at the Fortress, not her London home, not the Smallville farm, and damn sure not his apartment with its weak walls and floors.
Pinning him there, Diana crushed her lips into his, kissing and biting and taking. The man was impossible. He didn't know when to leave well enough alone. All Diana wanted to do was go home, take a long, luxuriant bath, and sleep like the dead. But no, Clark Kent couldn't just go to bed like any other hero after a hard-fought battle. He had to pick a stupid fight with a tired Amazon.
Clark tried to take control of the kiss, but she wouldn't let him. He tried to hold her but she held him even firmer. She didn't want to be held, didn't want him to turn the tables on her, as he always managed to do. But Clark reveled in this more aggressive side of her, went to great lengths to bring "Uncuffed Diana" to the fore.
She released him.
"What? No, don't stop."
Diana drifted down to the floor, unwilling to have this déjà vu moment. Because, sex against his bedroom wall was exactly what they'd done after their battle with the Atlanteans.
Clark followed, naked and partially erect.
"You're just going to leave?"
"We both need to rest."
"Okay, okay, granted, I'm not even going to pretend that I couldn't sleep for a week. But that doesn't mean you have to leave. I want you to stay. Why won't you just stay?"
"Because we won't just sleep, you know that."
"And that's a bad thing? What am I missing, here, Diana, because I don't get what's going on with you."
He turned away from her, went to the bed, and finally slipped into the shorts she'd taken out for him. Then he sat and patted the spot next to him. "Come sit next to me so we can talk. I would promise not to bite but I want no lies between us."
And there was Cute Clark again, going toe-to-toe with Moody Diana. Moody Diana sat, Cute Clark smiled.
"So, ah, Kon told me about your fight with Kara. Is thats what's bothering you, that you fought my cousin?"
She didn't actually like having to fight Kara. She'd tried everything she could not to, but the woman wouldn't listen to reason.
"It's okay. I know you did what needed to be done. And, as Kon tells it, it wasn't technically a fight. She went all out and you did more restraining than fighting."
Yes, she'd tried very hard to restrain Kara with her lasso, and had taken a fist to the jaw and heat vision attack for her effort.
"You didn't throw a single punch or kick. That had to be tough."
Kara wasn't the real enemy, in spite of how she was acting. But she had been a threat.
"She should have known better, Clark."
"True, but she's young and inexperienced."
"She's older than both of us."
"Well, I guess technically. But, in truth, she's just a girl."
"She's no girl, Clark. She's a woman of tremendous power and will. And she allied with H'El over her own cousin, choosing to believe him instead of you."
And that, more than anything else, pissed Diana off. Yes, Kara Zor-El may be young, perhaps even a tad naïve, but she was no fool. She should have known better, acted differently, and trusted Clark.
"Kara did the right thing in the end, but she nearly kiilled herself."
And that was the only thing that had redeemed Supergirl in Diana's eyes. But that didn't mean she would trust the woman any time soon. Besides, anyone capable of breaking free of her lasso possessed an amount of power Diana knew could be dangerous.
"She made a horrible mistake in trusting H'El. I know it, and she now knows it. He took advantage of her love for him."
He did at that. But the love wasn't one-sided, as Clark would probably like to believe. H'El, for all his lies and machinations, loved Kara. That was quite clear to Diana, and that love, not his lies, is what will haunt Kara the most.
"Well, you had to deal with my cousin Eros; I guess it's only fair I dealt with your cousin."
And that was the first time either one of them had mentioned that night when Eros, controlled by two Sirens, had tried to use Superman to take Diana's lasso and bracers. Then he had used his golden, magic guns to shoot at Clark, to guarantee that Clark would love only Diana.
"I was wondering when we were going to get around to talking about that night."
"I didn't think you wanted to talk about it."
"Well, the night did take an unexpected turn, that's for sure. But we managed."
That's because Superman had caught the love bullet intended for him.
"I never wanted it to be this way," Diana told Superman, his body weak and on the ground after the shot from Eros' gun. "If you truly love me, I would have it be of your own choice!"
"But it is, Diana . . ." His hand opened, revealing a shiny, gold bullet. "It is."
And that was the first and last time they'd spoken of love. She'd helped a magically weakened Clark back to his Smallville farm. She'd waited until he'd undressed, climbed into bed, and fallen asleep before she left. Exactly what she'd intended to do tonight. But the Clark of tonight clearly had no intention of being so easily managed.
"So, ah . . . do you want to talk about it now?"
"It's late. It's held for weeks, I'm sure it can hold a bit longer."
Diana made to stand but Clark's words of, "What are you afraid of?" had her sitting back down. "We talk all the time, Diana, about big and small things, about important and stupid things, about the obscure and the well-known. Why then have we never talked about our feelings for each other?"
Diana ran a trembling hand through her hair. Of course he would want to have this discussion when she was bone weary, her emotional shield low.
"I'll have your vow, Diana."
Her eyes narrowed to dangerous, insulted slits. "Every time I speak, Clark, it's my vow. I do not lie. I have never lied."
"Then tell me, pumpkin, does your 'no lie rule' include lies of omission?"
She blew out a frustrated sigh. Between his insistence on finding the "perfect" term of endearment and his arrogance, Clark Kent was living on the edge of Diana's patience.
"You want to hit me, don't you?"
"I was thinking about it, yes." She gave him a Cheshire smile. "See, no lie of omission."
"But you have lied to me, Diana. Or rather, you have failed to be totally honest with me." He reached out and found hands gone cold. "And I've also lied by not being honest with you. We should both try to rectify that now."
She allowed him to hold her hand, his so much larger and warmer.
"I thought you said we could talk tomorrow. I would prefer to have this conversation later."
"Because I'm damn tired, that's why! And, if you haven't noticed, I get grumpy when I haven't had enough sleep."
"Well, it's kind of hard not to notice when you're in a mood."
"And yet you keep pushing, keep saying and doing things just to rankle."
"Sugar plum, that's just what boyfriends do. Didn't Steve ever—"
She screamed. Literally opened her mouth and yelled. He was going to send her to Bedlam, or she'd be sentenced to Arkham after she killed him.
"Sugar plum? I hate that more than the others. And, no, Steve knew better than to call me anything other than my name. Besides, I don't want to talk about Steve, and I don't see why you insist on knowing everything that happened between the two of us, anyway."
"Because it's part of who you are. Aren't you even the teeniest bit interested in my previous girlfriends?"
"Have you ever seen a jealous Amazon, Clark?"
He shook his head, his wide eyes registering the first signs that he was on a rickety, unsafe bridge to nowhere.
"Well, it's not pretty. So I suggest if you never want to see a jealous Amazon that you keep your past relationships where they belong—in the past."
As if she'd hadn't just yelled at him like some lunatic, Clark leaned over, removed her boots, tiara, and lasso. Next came her uniform and bracers, all gently but resolutely removed, then stacked in a neat pile on the floor.
Taking off his single piece of clothing, Clark climbed into bed. And as before, he patted the space beside him.
Too defeated to protest anything he'd done up to this point, Diana obliged, sinking down beside him. Wrapped in his arms, body hard and large around her, she sensed Moody Diana begin to fade.
That grumpy, unpleasant side of her would soon be gone. She rarely reared her head, but when she did, all knew to give her a wide berth. All, that is, except Clark. And now, enclosed as she was within his warmth and protection, Diana was glad for his stubborn nature. Not that she always would be, she knew. No, two stubborn people in a relationship wasn't the best recipe for years of bliss. They would have to learn when and how to yield, to compromise. Tonight, it was Diana's turn.
As sleep slowly began to claim her, Clark hardened even more. His naked body was flush against her, his arousal long, thick and pressed to her bottom. One large hand came around to cup a breast. He squeezed. She moaned. Then he moved lower, cupping a part of her that was infinitely more sensitive.
He continued, pressing one then two fingers inside her.
"Lazy sex," he whispered in her ear, licking the shell then sucking the lobe. "Let me make you feel good, my love."
Clark replaced his fingers with the masculine length of him, rolling his hips with measured, languid thrusts. The rhythm was perfect, the penetration deep, and the strokes precise. And they were so quiet, so achingly, deliciously, erotically quiet.
"No more lies of omission, Diana, for either of us."
His pace increased. The moans grew louder. But still he held her, one arm under her head, the other hand in firm possession of a breast, his mouth sucking and kissing her shoulder and neck.
"You're my love Princess Diana of Themyscira. My sweetheart, my honey, my baby, my pumpkin, my sugar plum, and whatever asinine term of endearment you won't kill me for calling you, but in the end, when all the joking is said and done, the only one that truly matters to me is my love."
He turned her to face him, her breathing heavy and ragged from the sudden halt to their lovemaking and, of course, his unexpected declaration.
"I've confessed to my lie of omission, will you do the same or must I wait until tomorrow?"
She kissed him. And kissed him. And kissed. And kissed him, tasting his passion, his desire, his love. And returning her own.
"I love you."
Diana had once told Hades that she loved him, that, in truth, she loved everyone. But what she felt for Clark Kent was not the same agape love she had for the rest of the world—selfless, unconditional, sacrificial, according to some, the highest type of love. No, what she felt for this man, this wonderfully powerful man was all that the golden bullet would've imbued him with—eros, physical, sensual love. But first there had been philia—the love of a close friend. And that friendship planted the seeds of a spring blossom, a beautiful bouquet of red and pink roses with blushing lilies.
But, unlike the golden bullet, what she felt for him, and, thankfully, what he felt for her wasn't magically engineered. It had developed overtime and naturally, no external force needed.
With a silent but mutual agreement, they resumed their lazy sex session.
"Say it again, Diana."
"Not until you promise there will be no more terms of endearments."
He rolled his hips, pushing his weight into her until he had her flat on her stomach, mouth open on a pleased groan.
"Not hardly." Thrust. "Now say it." Thrust.
"I can't." Thrust. Thrust. Thrust. "I won't." Thrust. Thrust. Thrust. "Tell me. I want to hear you say it again." Thrust. Thrust. Thrust.
She refused to give him what he wanted. She'd yielded once already today, now was his turn. "Promise me." She pushed back against him. Once. Twice. Three times, hard and fast, just the way he liked it.
He grunted, the hands on the sheet ripping the fragile silk.
She did it again. And again. And again, claiming him and refusing to submit. "Promise."
He was breathing heavy now, his thrusts hard, beginning to lose their rhythm as he fought to not come. But Clark couldn't win this contest. No male ever would. All he was doing was delaying the inevitable.
So when he sped up, when his moans were no longer quiet, when the bed squeaked, moved, and pounded against the wall, Diana knew he could hold back no longer. And, hell, she was right there with him, forgetting her vow not to do this with Kon and Kara under the same roof. But Clark had assured her that his bedroom was soundproof. She hadn't given it a thought before, well, now she hoped it was enough. Because—yes, yes, yes—they were climaxing together and Clark had all but sexed the fatigue and moodiness right out of her.
When Clark collapsed, it was to her side.
Diana was still on her stomach, unable to move, barely able to breathe. She felt glorious.
Mumbling into the mattress, she said, "Say it again, Clark. I would like to hear it again."
Clark's laugh was low and husky. He pulled Diana to him, snuggled up behind her again, and covered their sweaty bodies with a warm comforter.
"You're a nervy, Amazon."
"I know. Is that why you love me?"
"Beauty and brains?"
"Strength and courage?"
"Loyalty and honesty?"
Diana was wide-awake now. Sex did that to her, which was another reason she didn't want to make love tonight. She was wired, and, from the shallow breathing coming from behind her, Clark was nearly asleep. But she had to know.
"Tell me why, Clark. Why do you love me?"
"Because . . ."
"Because . . ."
"Because. . ." He yawned loudly and right in her ear. "Tell you what, we'll do as you asked and talk tomorrow." He kissed her shoulder before yawning again. "We should really get some sleep, I'm beat." He turned over and away from her. "Good night, love-muffin."
And for the second time that evening, Princess Diana of Themsyscria turned into a raving Banshee and screamed.