Title: "Black Tie Affair"
Author: monimala
Fandom: Smallville
Rating/Classification: R to NC-17, Clark/Lois/Oliver, adult language, het and slash sexual situations, PWP.
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. Nope. Nuh-uh.
Summary: 1475 words. What's a guy supposed to do when his girlfriend mentions how one Clark Kent is totally immune to her naked body?
Note: Since I only tuned in for the Green Arrow episodes this season, I don't know exactly where Clark lives now. For the sake of argument (and porn), he's still at the Kent homestead.

Living with Lois has its up sides and down sides. Okay, it's mostly down sides. She takes forever in the bathroom…and still walks in on him whenever she feels like it. That first week? Not an anomaly. The only person who has seen him naked more than her is Mom…and Mom hasn't seen the full Clark monty since he was about four, running around the kitchen and avoiding his Spiderman pajamas and bed time.

Lois blasts her workout tapes at 6 a.m., drinks orange juice right out of the carton, and uses his homework to write notes to herself about everything from three-headed babies in Kansas City to her dress code her for her Friday night date with Oliver Queen.

She's aggravating, infuriating, and has absolutely no concept of personal boundaries.

So, he shouldn't be surprised when he walks in on her and Oliver in the barn.

Except he is.

Because they're naked.

And he has the feeling it's anything but an anomaly.

So much for a dress code.

They're both laughing. Somewhere in the back of his head, he knew she'd be like this. That Oliver would be like this. Laughing and kissing and glowing with sweat. Lois pins Oliver back against the bales, throwing one leg over his hips. She is, as the guys in the Crows locker room would say, "stacked." Thanks to Lois' exhibitionist around the house habits, Clark's seen those fantastic breasts before. And he may not be human, but he's still a guy. He's imagined touching them the way Oliver is right now. She's spilling out of his hands…into his mouth. Oliver's perfect white teeth tug at one rosy pink nipple as Lois cradles the back of his head… and a sane person would be stumbling backwards right about now.

"Oh…fuck, Ollie. Fuck me." Lois is panting. Muttering words he usually only hears when she's blocked on a story and pacing in her bedroom.

A sane person would run back to the house at super speed and bleach their eyeballs.

Instead, Clark keeps standing there, hoping that Oliver will get hay in uncomfortable places. But Queen's too smooth for that, isn't he? Smooth all over. Lean and taut. Every inch an archer. And he catches Clark's eye over Lois' shoulder. He smiles that slick prep school smile before Lois licks it into an openmouthed kiss.

That's when Clark starts moving.

Forward instead of backward.

He tells himself that it's to stop them.

It's to pick up their clothes and throw various items at them and tell them to take the show somewhere else. Somewhere with doors that lock. Somewhere with lead lining so he has no chance of being hysterically blinded.

But he doesn't say that. He doesn't even do the fake-polite "ahem!" cough. He just gasps "Lois," and she twists around, stares at him while Oliver presses his smug mouth to her neck.

"S-smallville?"

Oh, Man.

Maybe he has no concept of personal boundaries either.

Because in one long stride, he's there, beside them, kneeling on the hay and tangling Lois' long hair between his fingers as he kisses her for the first time. As he closes his hand over her breast and rubs her nipple with his thumb. His hands are bigger than Oliver's. She doesn't spill over. She's a perfect fit for him.

Oliver snickers and Clark wonders if Queen has psychic powers he hasn't yet confessed to. Or, at least, he wonders that until he registers that kissing Lois is not something he's just imagining. It's something he's *doing*. Along with touching her. And she's soft and hot and wet as she slowly lifts herself off Oliver's cock and crawls into his lap. She calls him "Smallville," again, teasing, and he whimpers just a little as she rubs against the straining crotch of his jeans.

Her date doesn't seem to mind being abandoned. He slumps back against the stack of bales, content to finish himself off with a few lazy strokes. His eyes go half-closed with pleasure and Clark has the entirely too gay thought that Oliver Queen is gorgeous when he comes.

And then he quits thinking.

Because Lois has his jeans undone and pushed down past his hips and she's sinking down on top of him and holy crap, from now on she can drink anything she wants directly out of the carton and he won't care.

She pistons up and down on his cock, taking him deeper than he ever thought it was possible to go. She makes throaty little moaning noises, "unh," and "yes," and "there," and they're only as half as erotic as the sound of their bodies moving together. She tilts her head back so he can suck on her pulse and all of a sudden, Oliver's raring to go again, coming up behind her. His perfectly manicured hands cover Clark's, which have now moved down to Lois' hips. Clark can feel calluses from the bowstrings and the contrast is so erotic that he doesn't even care that this is way past gay and somewhere in the realm of really kinky.

"Queen," he whispers against Lois' jaw. "Oliver…"

"Kent," the other man mocks, eyes glinting. "Clark…"

And then they're kissing, over Lois' shoulder, crushing her between them as their teeth click and collide and scrape tongues. He can taste her on both of them. That spicy, sassy mouth that never shuts up. But behind that is something different. Primal. Something male. Something he'll never admit out loud that he wanted from Lex when he was sixteen and stupid. But he's smart now and he wants it here, wants it *now* and he's sure as Hell saying it aloud. As close to four-letter words as he gets.

"Hey…Boys…I'm still…here…"

"Are you?" Oliver is breathless but still perfectly poised. Like he's rubbing elbows with the mayor and not fucking a farm boy and a tabloid reporter. "I hadn't noticed."

"I noticed," he volunteers, decidedly less poised. More like…turned on beyond belief.

Lois speeds up, angling herself just right against the head of his cock, so it rubs her clit as she comes down hard. He grabs her chin, tilts her face towards them and three people kissing is anything but elegant, but who needs elegance now? It's all sloppiness and whispered swears and swallowing Lois' husky groan as she finally gets *there*. She arches, goes perfectly tight, before she snaps back, milking him with the last tremors of her orgasm. And that's when he loses it; mashing his lips against Oliver's and feeling his balls tighten to the point of pain before he follows her over the edge.

It's like nothing he's ever felt before. Not like making love to Lana. Not racing trains. Not crossing space, not turning time. This is everything that's basic and extraordinary about sex. About living.

After minutes in a mind-numbing haze that's more lethal than meteor rocks, he realizes that Lois has moved off him. She's curled up on a pile of discarded clothes, looking like she could sleep for a week and it's only Oliver who is in his arms now. Making short work of his shirt and T-shirt and helping himself to every inch of skin he bares. Cocky blond Oliver who is nobody's fool and likes to run around at night wearing green leather bondage gear. Who caught his gaze and said, without speaking, "Come on."

"You did this on purpose, didn't you?" he accuses. "You had sex in my barn knowing I would walk in."

"Desperate times, desperate measures." Oliver stops writing dirty limericks on his chest with the tip of his finger. "What's a guy supposed to do when his girlfriend mentions how one Clark Kent is totally immune to her naked body?"

"Um, dump the girlfriend and possibly punch one Clark Kent in the face?" he suggests, lightly grabbing Oliver's hand and guiding it lower. Never mind that if Queen did use this extremely talented appendage to punch him, it would probably break his bones.

"We like your face, Clark. And the rest of you," Lois points out, grinning at him in a slow, triumphant way that has him suspecting she's been planning this since the minute she moved in. He didn't have a chance, did he?

"Guilty as charged…Smallville," Oliver agrees with a soft chuckle, closing his fingers around his cock.

"Really?" He raises an eyebrow, leaning back and gesturing between them. "So who are you calling 'small'?"

Oliver laughs. He laughs. They're still laughing while they're jerking each other off and making out and tugging Lois back into the fray. By the end of it, they'll all be getting hay in uncomfortable places. And that suits him fine.

Okay. So living with Lois has one major up side. Something that outweighs the mostly down sides.

Somewhere in the back of his head, he knew they'd be like this.

--end--

November 5, 2006.



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