Epilogue: Wrong Lane, Right Lane

Lucy and Clark had continued to message one another, even after Lois Lane's night out. Just as friends. Two years of texts, messages, Xmas cards. Until she found herself in Metropolis on leave, and insisted her friend come out with her a drink.

One drink turned into two. Nothing too heavy. There was a buzz of **** in her brain, but she wasn't drunk. He had hardly touched his Shirley Temple. Of course, Clark Kent still looked amazing...those broad shoulders, those muscles. She also knew he wasn't seeing anyone. Lois' marriage had hit the poor guy pretty hard, and he'd carried a torch for a long time. Maybe that was why she leaned in next to him in the booth, after dinner. Why her hand went to his thigh...

...why he didn't pull back as she leaned in for the kiss.

He was hesitant, but his lips were warm...and when her tongue slithered out to touch his teeth his mouth opened. There was a moment of electric shock as the tips of their tongues touched. Lucy found she had closed her eyes. The world seemed to fade as their tongues slowly explored one another. No teenage tongue-wrestling this, but two adults, two friends, two...

Her hand moved up his thigh, and touched something hard.

She opened her eyes...and so did he.

"Wow," she whispered as she snuggled next to him.

"Wow, yourself," he smiled back, those blue eyes brilliant behind the glasses. Her hand squeezed the tip of his cock. It was like a steel bar strapped to his thigh. Lucy bit her lip as her fingers worked their way up.

"It's been a long time for me," she said. "You know?"

"Me too," he whispered back. Somewhere in the restaurant, a waiter dropped a platter. They didn't even hear it.

That was the thing about two years of being in touch, every day. They did know. Her boyfriends, his attempts at dating. They had never gone beyond the platonic, never talked about sex much, he had never been one to send her a dick pic and she had never sent him nudes...not that he would have asked for any. It would have been so weird, what with her being Lois' sister...

"Clark," she said. "Can we...go back to your place? I'd like...I mean, if you want to, I want...I want you."

He didn't say no. They held hands, on the way back to the apartment, and that was new. His hand was huge, it engulfed hers, but he held it like an eggshell. Her cheeks burned as they walked hand-in-hand through Metropolis, her mind raced as she thought back to everything she knew about him, everything he liked, anything remotely sexual either of them had always said.

The blonde proceeded him into the apartment. Lucy had seen it before, in pictures when they did video messaging, in photographs when he hung a picture on the wall. It was too clean for a bachelor apartment, but also sparse. A picture of a farm, of his parents, of people from the Daily Planet. Framed, on the wall, the last picture that she had sent him...her official photograph she'd had made for the promotion board.

He looked around awkwardly as she stepped into the bedroom...and everything was neatly folded, the bed was made, the sheets were clean. Absently, she took off her shoes. It reminded her of a hotel room, that's how spic and span it was. She herself wasn't a neat freak, not at all. This level of order and cleanliness almost offended her.

Lucy had her back to him. She raised her hands to lift her collar-length blonde hair.

"Clark?" she said. "Help me unzip, would you?"

She didn't need his help. But the big man stepped forward, he pulled the zipper down...and Lucy felt her heart pound a mile a minute as she shrugged out of the dress in front of him...and turned around. They stood facing each other as she undid his belt. His blue eyes wavered, his cheeks flushed...and it was like Lois Lane was the invisible elephant in the room, the thing that neither of them wanted to talk about yet neither could get away with thinking about.

"Do you still love her, Clark?" Lucy Lane asked she pulled down his fly.

His hands came to rest on his shoulders. Huge hands, warm and oddly callused. Not what she expected of a newspaperman at all; they were like the hands of a boxer, of a man who made his living with them.

"I think..." he said softly. He swallowed. "I think I love you."

Which is when Lucy Lane got down on her knees to worship his cock.

It was hard as steel...and bigger than Lucy had expected. Seven and half inches looked spindly and thin on Clark Kent's massively muscled frame, but it was bigger than any cock Lucy had ever had. Her mouth pressed against the side of it as she lewdly licked its length, her hands pulled down his pants all the while.

She wanted to believe him. She wanted it to be true.

Her tongue slithered over the swollen knob, and Lucy rubbed her clit inside her panties. She was already wet, but she was going to want to be wetter still to handle this beast...and she did want it, now. It wasn't like she was browsing in her sister's closet any more, trying on her bras and shirts. Lois had made her choice. Clark Kent was free. He could stop her at any time.

He nearly did.

They had moved to the bed. Lucy shook in anticipation as she shed bra and panties. Clark was on his back, and his body looked like it should have been sculpted in marble for the temple of some Greek god. The blond had just slid her fit, muscular form to straddle his thighs, to wipe the head of his cock, already leaking precum, against her dripping twat...when he blinked. He still had his glasses on, even in bed, but she felt the moment of hesitation.

"What is it?" she said.

"I...I don't have a condom," he said. "I can go get one..."

Lucy Lane leered. One hand firmly on the dick, she guided it to her hot fuckhole.

"It feels better raw," she said.

Her weight sank down and she hissed as after long, long months she finally felt filled with cock.

"I'll pull out..." Clark said. "But it's dangerous, you could get...pregnant."

Lucy glanced down at him. His cheeks burned bright...and for the first time, she wondered if he had a pregnancy fetish. If that was part of the reason he was so taciturn whenever he mentioned Lois' pregnancies.

"Oh yeah? Well if you knock me up, Smallville, I expect you to take full responsibility!"

It was a stupid line, the kind of thing you might read in a Japanese comic book, but his entire face grew beet red and his cock trembled in her hand as she sank down onto it, until her pudenda rested on his cratoch. She leaned back to feel his balls press against her ass. The cock was long enough, and Lucy thin enough, that she could see the little distension in her abdomen where the head pressed against her from inside. her fingers circled it, to draw his gaze.

"Maybe you'd like that? Put a baby in my belly? Knock me up? See me grow all big and round? Maybe you want to keep me barefoot and pregnant and..."

He sat up so suddenly that Lucy was nearly thrown off. She was silenced by his kiss, his tongue pressed through her lips, his big arms crushed her to him. It was like some switch had been pressed in his brain, and for the first time she felt, really felt, how much bigger he was than her, how much stronger he was.

Seated on the edge of the bed he shook her up and down, her cunt squeezed on his cock as he used her like a sex toy. Lucy Lane doubted she could have fought back, even if she wanted to. Her breasts crushed against her massively muscled chest, her efforts to help or hinder him were pointless. She had seen men at the gym pump iron with forty-pound dumbells with the kind of mechanical concentration he put into fucking the shit out of her, and it was all Lucy Lane could do to hang on for the ride of her life, to chew on his lips, her nails scratched harmless on his back. Her cunt felt hollowed out within a couple dozen strokes and he must have been near too...and some final vestige of willpower made him whisper:

"I'm close. Do you want me to pull out?"

She grabbed hold of him as hard as she could and whispered back.

"Don't you fucking dare! I want all of it, you hear me!? Every drop. Everything you've been saving for two years! I want every sperm you were going to pump into her!" It was a terrible thing to say, and Lucy knew it, all the accumulated jealousy and love and lust of a lifetime and two years and now...now...

"I want your baby," she whispered.

It stung when his cum hit the back of her pussy. Lucy Lane grunted in pain as the ejaculate slammed into the entrance of her womb like some malicious bastard had shoved a BB gun into her cunt and pulled the trigger, over and over. Confusion ran through her, unsure why she could feel it, why it hurt...but she also felt him sigh and crush her to him, like a drowning man hugs onto the last piece of debris from a sunken ship...and maybe together they had found a way to work through those emotions that had been pent up within both of them.

"So, that was a month ago," Lucy Lane said, amid the boxes of her sister's house. "We, uh...we were together all the three days I was in Metropolis, and we're still chatting every day. Sometimes it gets steamy in the chat now. I send him some pics, tell him I'm lonely and miss him. He actually came out to the airbase last week and we, you know. He had condoms this time, but they burst. I mean, I'd just drained his balls a couple weeks before but my pussy was a white hot mess, and...and I haven't got my period this month. Which happens, sometimes, but, you know, I'm kind of hoping...it's too early to test yet, but I'll uh..."

Lois Lane stared slack-jawed at her sister. One tit was exposed, though the baby had finished feeding.

"You fucked Clark Kent?" was all she could say.

"You're not mad?" Lucy said.

"I'm ecstatic!" Lois said. She sagged into the chair, the baby in her arms. "That's fantastic! That's wonderful! That's..."

The reporter paused. A strange look crossed her face. She met her sister's eyes.

"You're not telling me everything. You're hiding something. Spill."

It had always been like that, ever since they were kids. Lois could always tell when Lucy, or anyone else, was holding something back. It was what made her such a terror at interviews, and a damn good reporter. It was no doubt a talent that would make her a holy hell as a mother of three demonspawn.

Lucy Lane wilted under the weight of that gaze. She licked her lips. "Well..."

So she told her.