Announcement

Collapse
No announcement yet.

Up, Up and Away? PG13 Clana AU Fic.

Collapse
X
 
  • Time
  • Show
Clear All
new posts

  • #31
    Great update with lots of funny bits!! Thank You

    Comment


    • #32
      Such a quick reply deserves a prompt post.

      ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



      Up, Up and Away?

      Pt. 10b.




      First Officer of UFO Airlines, the dashing Whitney Fordman, heard that whisper from his Captain, Clark Kent and smiled. He'd heard plenty of Clark's muttered half-thought out scenarios regarding Lana, on the remainder of their flight.


      Clark always wondered how Whitney knew what he was thinking, never realising he was speaking his thoughts out loud. But now, Whitney himself had something to think about or rather …......someone.

      He couldn't take his eyes off the stunning vision in front of him. She had it all: soft, dark hair, a beautiful, tantalisingly familiar face, and it didn't hurt that she had a graceful body, which also looked lithe and fit - capable of taking him down.

      He would go willingly, he could feel it, right now – the falling sensation. And instead of being terrifying, it was exhilarating.

      Derek Johnson observed him while his attention was otherwise occupied: windswept blond hair, a clean-cut air about him, and attractive features – quite flashy really.

      Such a different style compared to Clark, thought Derek, but interesting. Once he observed more closely the look Whitney was giving that feisty young woman, however, it put paid to any such thoughts.

      “You can't go anywhere, not in that state.” Whitney remarked to Clark, letting him know he'd hear this latest muttering.

      And not until you've introduced me to the most beautiful girl in the world. I ought to know, I've been around it a few times.

      But hush, the beauty was speaking......



      “Clark you've got some fast talking to do here,” said Cathy, advancing towards him with her hand on her hip and one finger pointed at a dangerous angle.

      “Or I'm going to be calling mom and telling her all about this hair brained stunt of yours!”

      With spirit to match, Whitney thought.


      Her eyes narrowed when Clark answered her with a shrug. He raised his eyebrow at Lana, meaning – now can you see why I wanted to get out of here? His hand crept into hers and clasped it warmly for support.

      Hang on a minute...... Whitney thought to himself, she's talking as if it's her parent!

      Cathy was rapidly working things out in her mind. Her eyes widened again.

      “Dad was in on this wasn't he? So Mom knows you flew that toy rattle-trap here!”

      She was obviously much more upset than angry. Clark was her “little brother”, she'd always looked out for him. He was too old now to need his nose wiped or his shoe laces tied, but he certainly still needed to be disciplined by a woman, she just hoped Lana was up for the task.

      Clark let her talk, he had learned to do this many years ago. Soon, Hurricane Cathy's rage would be all blown out. For now, he deserved it for scaring her so much.

      He shrugged and said quietly, “I'm so glad you're here Cat, just call them and tell them I'm here and I'm okay, will you? My phone's in the plane......if it survived.”

      “And what if you hadn't survived Clark – what would I be telling mom and dad then?” her voice caught in her throat, she was close to tears.

      Clark gave Lana's hand a squeeze and slid off the bed.

      “You'd be telling them that you were proud of me, for being a man for once in my life, for being willing to take a chance on something to get everything. You'd be telling them I risked it all for love.”

      He opened his arms and Cathy fell into them, sobbing. Clark smiled fondly and looked over the top of his sister's head. She was such a sucker for melodrama.

      But he was shocked at what he saw. He imagined eye-rolling, chortling, scoffing, but instead there wasn't a dry eye in the room.

      Derek Johnson was wiping his eyes with a large red silk handkerchief, Whitney hadn't taken his eyes off Catherine the whole time, had moved in close behind her, ready to catch her should she faint, and was clearing his throat and swallowing.

      Lana had also jumped off the bed, tears streaming down her face, holding up her pants with one hand, as they threatened to fall down at any moment.

      Derek offered the copious material to her and she blotted the wetness from her cheeks, passed it to Whitney so he could swipe quickly at the corners of his eyes, and thence on to Cathy who let Clark go and blew her nose loudly. She offered it to Clark who waved the odious object away. Derek received it with a dubious expression, folded it neatly and put it in his pocket.


      Clark's arms being now free, Lana moved forward into his embrace, but instead of sweet words, he heard - “And what would I have done, left alone - you big dumb ass, did you ever think about that?”

      Clark hung his head. “S....sorry Lana. But I thought......”

      “You didn't think. What could be worse than losing the one you love? Nothing Clark, nothing at all!

      “You tell him, Lana, maybe he'll listen to you.” Cathy said supportively.

      “You.....really love me?” he asked. He knew how he felt, and had declared it in his note, but this was the first time he'd heard it from her lips.

      “Would I be here if I didn't? Do I really need to spell it out – perhaps you want it in writing?”

      He pressed her to his still-naked chest, and the combined silkiness of her hair, and warm dampness of her tear laden face began to excite him to a degree not recommended in the presence of a sister, a colleague and an appreciative friend.


      “Maybe, one day soon.” he whispered into the top of her head. “Forgive me?”

      “I don't know what it is about you Clark, but I think I'm going to let you get away with it – this time.”

      She let go with one hand to hitch her pants up again, which had slumped dangerously low across her backside, the other hand tenderly caressing his now-sexily stubbled cheek.

      Derek caught the flash. Purple suits her well.


      “That's what he's been doing ever since he was born.” Cathy put in.

      “What?” asked Lana.

      “Getting into scrapes, but managing to get out of them again.”

      “He's a lucky guy, that's for sure.” agreed Whitney, staring at the back of her neck.

      Now I know why she was so familiar, this is Clark's sister! And for what I'm thinking about doing with her, he'd likely kill me.

      “Blessed.” murmured Derek quietly, observing as much of Clark's chest as he could that wasn't attached to Lana.

      “Well guys……it's been great to see you, but now it's time to get on with our lives......” Clark gestured towards the door.

      Lana gave Clark's much- admired chest a farewell pat and turned towards the door herself. She took a tiny step thinking he meant all of them, but he grasped her elbow and held her back, still against him.

      “You can't move yet.” he whispered, and nudged forward in a tiny movement to show her why.

      Clark sure has a good sense of direction, she thought. Just like a compass needle, he's pointing up to due north.

      Of course he would be, she was a magnet for his metal, and his lodestone was living up to its name. She grinned and turned slightly back to flick her eyes up to his face, sinuously pressing backwards into him.

      Whitney thought this was a good idea, this not moving yet. He really wanted to get to know this strikingly beautiful female version of Clark. There was something about her, something strong and invitingly stable. If she would only give him a chance, he would change his ways. This would be no lay-over.

      He leaned forward across her shoulder – breath stirring her dark hair.

      “Would you like to get a cup of coffee? We could compare stories about Captain Scarlet here....”

      Cathy turned and got a good look at Clark's First Officer. Her brother knew how to pick them, but she was sure Clark wasn't enjoying his boyish grin as much as she was.

      “Alright fly-boy, but only if I can be Destiny Angel.”

      “I think you already are - for me anyway.” he answered quietly, looking into her steady blue eyes.

      Around the world a collective sigh was heard from all the Giselle's, Heidi's and Maria's. Whitney Fordman was off the flight route.

      He fumbled in his inside breast pocket and drew out a small, dark notebook.

      “Here, Clark, take this. I won't be needing it again.”

      Clark looked at the outstretched object. “Isn't that your infamous 'little, black.'.....”

      “....route planner.” Whitney interrupted.

      Clark scorched him with a formidable glare.

      “You lay one hand on my sister, and so help me …...”

      “Let me be the judge of that Clark.” she returned quickly, and smiled at Whitney.

      “Coffee is a very good place to start. I could use a strong cup after all this.”

      Derek groaned inwardly, he could use a drink too after what he'd just witnessed, but definitely something stronger than coffee.

      ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
      Last edited by Seaspray; 01-21-2014, 05:56 AM. Reason: Print too small

      Comment


      • #33
        Hey Seaspray, Thanks for the update still a awesome story, sorry for the later reply I've been reading a lot of your other works. You have been busy I am enjoying your body of works and your collaborations great work. I aspire to you level of quality. I look forward to more of this story when RL doesn't get in the way.

        g'day mate

        Comment


        • #34
          Thanks SG - undeserved words ... but I'll take them. LOL


          Up, Up and Away?
          Pt 10c



          Derek's drink of choice was a smooth, flavoursome Merlot, although he did partake of a heady brew now and then to keep up the solidarity with his fellow officers.

          Right now, after witnessing two instances of Cupid's arrows hitting their mark, and seeming to have no chance now of being a target, he was thinking of re-acquainting himself with Johnny …........ Walker that is.


          He was also annoyed that a certain delivery hadn't arrived, and was regretting the expense.

          Better find that receipt again and alter it to a work related purchase.

          “Umm.....Clark. You haven't got a shirt on, even if we were ready to leave you can't go out like that.”
          Said Lana moving slightly away from feeling the interesting piece of male equipment poking into her back, one she had yet to try.

          Clark glanced down and nodded, looking around........something to wear that would also hide his excitement. Got it!

          “Cathy, could you please pass me that blanket?” he asked, indicating the folded item on a shelf behind her.

          “Sure thing.” She said as she handed it to him.

          “And it's even one of your favourite colours......perhaps Lana can 'tuck you in' later?”

          She smiled broadly as his eyes widened at this suggestion.

          Maybe she can read my mind, like she used to tell me when I was little, he thought, picturing himself and his lovely Lana, cuddled up underneath the blanket’s bright softness after …....... some rather exhausting activities.

          He swung it around his shoulders, and there was just enough to drape tastefully in front of himself.

          “Oh!” exclaimed Lana. “Cathy's right, that suits you so well, very …..commanding.”

          “Hmmm, I think I like the sound of that.” He murmured, striding through the curtained doorway, bright red blanket swirling around his form, like a cape.

          The others followed, but the whole cavalcade didn't advance very far. There was some sort of commotion going on in the emergency department, and Derek gasped when he saw who seemed to be at the centre of it.

          AH! No, no! Eso es castigo! Why must I be punished? You cannot do anything to these hands – I am an artist and these are my tools. You cannot comprehend what wonders I create with them!” cried a familiar voice.

          Derek's eyes bugged out, but he kept his cool at the sight of smooth tanned hands clad in coloured paisley patterned sleeves, thrust through a pair of shiny chrome and black fur-lined handcuffs. These were being waved erratically in the face of an orderly who was holding a pair of pliers in one hand and a jar of petroleum jelly in the other.

          Derek's gaze travelled up the arms, to the shoulders, the dark, blond tipped hair and finally to the face of........ “Pedro?” he asked. “Or is it Alejandro today?”

          The unwilling patient in question whipped his head around quickly to see a group of people, with Officer Johnson in the foreground. He sighed in relief, and held out his interestingly trapped hands.

          “Gracias, la caballería! Now I have someone to help me!”

          Pedro clutched the front of Derek's jacket with his conjoined hands, some of the furry strands tickling the Officer's chin, but he dared not laugh – Pedro looked as if he was ready to cry or explode.

          “Calm down, and perhaps if you speak English, the hospital staff can help you. You seem to make a habit of needing my help.” Derek said calmly, a muscle just barely twitching in one cheek.

          What on earth was the story behind this mishap.....and would he get to hear it?

          “You make me instantly relaxed with your presence. You are my cavalry, come to the rescue! Do you like to ride?”
          Pedro asked, touching his own hair in a double-handed move which he managed to make look graceful.

          “Now, can you make these cretins understand they cannot be in danger of cutting anything near Pedro's hands – if they do me an injury – I am unable to work on my clients – I am finished!”

          “What's the problem Derek, can I help?” asked Clark, moving to stand in what he hoped was a commanding way, behind the shorter man.

          Pedro looked up, and up until he saw Clark's face, above scarlet wrapped shoulders.

          “This is your friend too – the hero Matador? I knew you were a man of taste!” He said to Derek in amazement.

          “Now, can you wonderful gentlemen please help my unfortunate predicament?”

          Clark stepped forward and held Pedro's shackled wrists steady while Derek produced a special skeleton key from his pocket, and in no time the furry cuffs were swinging loose.

          Pedro was profuse in his thanks, reserving a disdainful glare for the hospital orderly.

          “Delivery for a Officer Johnson?” called a shrill voice over the dull roar of the busy room.

          Everyone turned to see a large floral arrangement making its way across the floor, supported from behind by a slight delivery boy.

          “Here, over here.” Called Derek, keeping his head down at the same time, so as not to attract too much attention.

          He took possession of the flowers, and for a split second was unsure what to do. Then Lana reached up and whispered something in Clark's ear to which he grinned. That decided it.

          “Here, these are for you.” Derek said as he offered the fragrant bunch into Pedro's now free and open arms.

          The delighted hairdresser tucked the hand not holding the flowers under Derek's arm and led him away.

          “How can I thank you, my friend!? To do the hair – it is not enough!”

          “Well,” Clark heard Derek say as they sauntered away, “I'm rather curious about how you got into the handcuffs in the first place.”

          “Well, this is all very interesting I'm sure. Some unusual friends you've made here, Clark.” remarked Catherine Kent.

          “But I'm more interested in that cup of coffee – let's go Whitless.” and she began to move.

          “Bye Clark.....I'll call you later!” Whitney's voice receded into the crowd as he was led away on Cathy's arm. “And it's Whit - ney?”

          Hand in hand, Clark and Lana, alone at last in their own pocket of quiet space in that noisy room, turned to gaze at each other and smile.

          “What now Captain Kent?” asked Lana, rubbing along his warm bare arm as it escaped from its blanket covering.

          “Have you ever had a tour of a cockpit?” he replied.



          ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

          Comment


          • #35
            I hate it when I start reading a story and find it isn't finished. So even though there wasn't a lot of response to this, for the sake of posterity, here's the last chapter.
            ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~




            Up, Up and Away?

            Pt. 10 d. ~ Conclusion~



            On their way out a side door, a voice hailed them.

            “Greetin's lovebirds! And where might you be goin'?”

            “Shh Dave!” admonished Lana in a low voice. “We're flying away.”

            “Yeah,” added Clark. “Time for making our nest. Hey, you wouldn't happen to have a spare shirt would you?”

            “Wot's wrong with the Epic Hero look?”

            Dave grinned, but scuffled around in a hamper and threw a button-up khaki at him, which was a surprisingly good fit when he slipped it on.

            “You owe me big time. This 'ere shirt 'sposed to belong to some famous TV star, name of........Tom something, I think.” he said, scratching his head.

            “Since when do you know any TV stars.” scoffed Clark.

            “Tom who?” said Lana, butting in.

            “'E was in my ambulance one time. Got punched in his pretty nose by a lady paparazzi, said he 'touched' 'er. Took it off so's it wouldn't get blood all over. Told me to keep it.”

            “Not......not Tom Welling!” gasped Lana faintly.

            “Who's he?” asked Clark suspiciously, not liking the glazed over look in Lana's eyes.

            “He's hot is who he is.” she replied, and looked at him approvingly.

            Mmmm, twice as delicious …..Clark Kent in Tom Welling's shirt. That's like a double chocolate choc chip ice-cream sundae. With twice the nuts.

            “Lana....are you alright?”

            She slid her hands slowly up his chest as she spoke, linked them behind his neck and pulled his head down closer to hers.

            Kiss me Clark, you haven't kissed me in so long.” she breathed.

            So he did. At first it was a gentle brushing together, which quickly escalated to a soft sampling of each other's blushed and pouting lips, and thence to a fairly thorough tongue lashing of each other's mouth.

            Panting, they separated, uttering relieved sighs. Their new status had been christened. It had indeed been too long since their last kiss.

            “I think I'm too young to see that.” admitted the red-faced paramedic.

            “Here!” and he threw some keys to Clark. “You take my car, go somewhere private, and quickly!”

            Clark laughed. “We're going to the airport – how will you get your car back?”

            “I'll send Bart. Loves a rush job like that. He's as quick as a wink when you need him to be, don't know how he does it really.”

            Lana began to thank him, but he waved her away.

            “You owe me two now, did I ever tell you my middle name? It's Lo.......”

            “Stop right there!” cried Lana, holding up her hand. “Our second child's going to be a girl, and I'm the “L” in this family.”

            Clark just shrugged. Important decisions like that were best left to Lana. As long as he got to choose the really important stuff, like the location of the television in the living room.

            He really needed to show her what was, hopefully, still in the plane – he had to be sure, before any more plans could be made. A simple thing really, but so significant to their relationship. He hoped ….. no - he prayed, that it was as special to her as well.

            Lana hitched her pants up again as they moved to leave. The zipper wouldn't stay done up without the stud and the silky underwear just encouraged their southward slide.

            She turned back to Dave and asked: “You wouldn't have a needle and thread up your sleeve, would you?” as she indicated the waistband she was holding.

            “Nah, surgery's best left to the bloodthirsty types, I'm a bit squeamish, myself. But what about this?”

            And he drew a large safety pin from a voluminous pocket and handed it to her.

            While she was pinning the two sides together he observed with a wink to Clark, “Just the ticket! You never know when you need a quick exit from your clothing, I always say.”

            Clark grinned. The guy had a very valid point.

            “Where'd you get such a big one?”

            “It's a diaper pin – might come in handy sooner than you think.” Dave observed neutrally.

            Clark gulped and then it was Lana's turn to grin. She glanced sideways and snatched the blanket from it's discarded location on a chair.

            This might come in handy too.....


            After a tension-filled ride, during which Lana kept distracting him by rubbing his thigh, they reached the airport. The car was deposited in staff parking and a text to Dave sent on Lana's phone. He sent another when she wasn't looking as well.

            “Where to now?” she said, looking around.

            “There's something I want to show you. In my plane.”

            He felt a nervousness uncharacteristic of his usual confident manner. She could break him, so easily, close her hand on his brittle heart and watch the shards tinkle to the ground.

            She stopped short and turned to him.

            “You know you caused one of the worst moments in my life don't you – when I thought you'd been hurt?”

            “I do know, and I'm sorry Lana. All I can tell you is I hope to make up for it, with many more of the best moments, OK?”

            “Just promise me one thing?”

            “Only one?”

            “But it's a big one. And you have to promise it to me now, I mean it. No more flying away from me ever again.”

            Many “what ifs” sprang to his mind, but he pushed them down again, she needed his confirmation, without any doubts. He had so many hopes for the future, there was no way he would take hers away now.

            “Yes, sweetheart.”

            “Yes??” She exclaimed.

            Uh oh, wrong answer.

            “No...I mean no, never.”

            More than one set of eyes grew misty as they shared a comforting hug of warmth, of tenderness, of pain shared, of love renewed.

            Lana walked into the terminal building and looked around with new eyes. No longer was it large and impersonal, crowded and daunting. Being with someone who shares your troubles, halves them, and makes problems that once seemed insurmountable, no more than gentle rises, easily traversed.

            Clark scanned the line of check-in desks and gave a secret little nod.

            “Lana – I need you to wait right here, OK?”

            “What's going on Clark?”

            She was immediately seized with an unaccountable concern that he would leave her.

            “It's fine, I promise. You know, of all people, that I keep my promises.”

            He held both her hands, looked into her troubled eyes with what he hoped was a reassuring gaze.

            As he turned to leave, one of her hands trailed across his chest, fingertips kissing the fabric as his body moved reluctantly out of her grasp; meeting the flesh of his arm and leaving an invisible trail of heat from her to him.

            He covered her hand with his own as the two were slowly divided, retaining their connection until the very last second. She turned her head away, just brushing her temple on his chest, feeling even her hair clinging with limpet-like static, loathe to let him leave.

            She stood for a moment, feeling the emptiness of the air next to her. If she had not already known, by the aching fullness of her heart, that Clark had grown to be the most important thing in her life, then this would have told her. Once having been part of a whole, when one part is gone it is a loneliness keener than ever felt before the joining.

            She wondered what she was doing here, and she suddenly felt very tired. She found a row of chairs, facing the destination boards which had been so important for their information such a short time ago.

            They were cheerfully working again now, guiding travellers in their diligent, flashy way. Her eyes gradually closed and her head tilted to the side.

            The moment of rest didn't last long however, she was startled awake by loud, amused voices.


            “Look at that! What does it mean?”

            What does it say?”

            “Aww, that's so sweet!”

            “Lucky girl, I wonder where she is?”

            And one annoyed one.

            “Airlines have gone crazy again!”

            Lana blinked, stretched and looked around. Then she saw what they'd been pointing at. The destination board had changed, it now bore a very unusual message.




            Clark Kent Airlines,

            First and Final Call for Passenger Lana Lang

            Departing from Gate 3 for the Ride of her Life.

            PLEASE?






            She felt confused, excited, perplexed, her heart was beating so fast.

            What was Clark doing, did he really mean …...... ?

            She glanced around and saw the gate in question. She started to run. There was no one to stop her as she burst out of the door at the other end, greeted by a short flight of steps leading up to a rather scorched and bent-winged plane on chocks.

            Clark was nowhere to be seen, but she felt him, felt him close and called “Claaark?” at the door of the plane.

            The metal of the nearest wing was buckled and split, the door hanging by one hinge, the solid, thick windows made opaque by the smoke.

            Had Clark really flown all that way just to return to her in this? She couldn't believe how lucky he'd been to come out of it with so few injuries. How lucky she was to have him back.

            “Do you have a boarding pass Miss?”

            Clark's head of messy curls appeared in the doorway, bright green eyes fixing hers with such an intense look, she had to glance away for a moment.

            “No …..but Clark, what did you mean.....?”

            He reached out and took one hand, lacing his fingers with hers in a loving tangle.

            “Then you'll need to pay a forfeit.”

            He handed her over the step, snaking his other arm around her waist and drawing her to him. She dared lift her eyes to his face again, to brave the sea-deep insistence of his own.

            He leaned down to claim her lips in a kiss which started softly - a gentle capture of each rosy, succulent lip in turn. But soon it became an intense hunger, a need by both to acknowledge to the other how much they were desired. To taste, to touch, to triumph over past fears and treasure present wonders.

            The bulkhead wall proved solid enough to withstand the force of two bodies colliding with it with a slight thwack. Only one loose piece of internal railing fell when she gathered two fistfuls of his shirt and spun him around to hit the wall instead.

            More serious kissing, and tantalising pressing of bodies ensued. There was the occasional groan of metal fatigue to be heard as their lip locked bodies spun again. Lana lifted her legs to wrap around his waist, her tight buttocks cupped by his big hands as he did his best to show her how elated his joystick was.

            It wasn't his fault that a partition was cracked by his elbow as he swung her away from the wall, supporting her totally now.

            It wasn't her fault that the loose overhead wiring was pulled down in a festoon of coloured cords as her hand struck out blindly for some support during the ferocious assault he unleashed on her neck and collarbone with his mouth, while his hands diligently searched the contours of her upper body for concealed weapons.

            Her new green top had to be removed to satisfy security requirements, and it was only fair that his borrowed shirt followed suit.

            Only three tiles were dislodged from the floor as he staggered to the pilot's chair with the hot cargo of her body. She couldn't be on board a plane with a sharp object either, so he slid her down his own eager body, grasped the pinned opening of her pants and ripped them apart to her delighted squeal.

            It was only fair his heavy cargo be displayed for inspection too, so she made short work of stripping his own pants down his legs and throwing them onto the pile with hers.

            Panting, flushed and with all erogenous zones fuelled and ready for take-off, he remembered what he'd brought back. It was time to show her....... time to know if she really felt the same as he. Time to know if their singular “he” and “she” would be an “us” from now on.

            The door of the overhead locker had been cracked anyway before he wrenched it off and pulled out the large wrapped bundle.

            “Lana...” He spoke with difficulty between panted breaths, if he didn't come in for a landing soon, he was going to explode mid- air - or crash and burn.

            “You mean everything to me.......I can't go another day without you.......I can't sleep at night..........this was ….. our special moment - but only if you feel the same. Here.”

            Her trembling hands shredded the outer covering – the only thing she really wanted right now was part of his person, ready and waiting – so what was this?

            OMIGOD Clark!” Lana screamed with joy, “It's perfect! How did you know?”

            And she hurriedly unrolled the sumptuous, greenish length of new bubble-wrap over the pilot's chair.

            As if all her senses weren't already on overload, Lana felt a new rush of warmth and excitement. Their first bubble wrap bed in all it's loving plastic glory, was gone – but here it was again, except it was better, made new. The cold, silent apartment sheets had not let her sleep, and now she knew why.

            “Do you really understand Lana? Do you like it?” he pleaded, barely able to restrain himself from crushing her intoxicating body to his own.

            “Oh, I do.”


            All remaining garments splatted against the inside of the cockpit windscreen.

            “I always thought there should be nothing between us.” gasped Clark in amazement at her desirable beauty.

            “From the first moment I saw you, I knew no-one could make me happier.” breathed Lana, staring at his fully deployed equipment.

            They hardly even registered the “crrraaaaack!” as the back of the seat broke when they landed together on it.

            “Are these …...the normal activities …...in a cockpit?” moaned Lana as Clark manoeuvred into position.

            “There's never.......been anything normal......about us.” grunted Clark as he executed a perfect barrel roll to position Lana underneath him.
            He was finally on top! And the luscious, warm reality of her body was driving him crazy.

            Hundreds of percussive explosions peppered the air, to mingle with the moans and gasps. Passion soared to incredible heights.
            A limp, cylindrical oxygen tube and domed mask slunk out of a broken section of the ceiling and began to inflate, swaying proudly in the vibration of the air.

            The fully functioning black box recorder registered three instances of massive turbulence during the next hour.

            Under the crimson blanket, two very satisfied customers of Clark Kent Airlines pledged their undying love for each other.


            Lana stretched, enjoying the musical popping noise which would forever be associated with sleeping with Clark. She ran her fingertips lightly over the scratch on his superbly muscled chest.

            “Did you mean what you said?”

            Clark yawned and nuzzled his cheek on the top of Lana's head, breathing in her slight floral fragrance.

            “I meant every word.”

            Lazily he lifted one arm and began to stroke her back. “You can be on top next time.”

            “Claaark! I'm talking about your note. You said 'Fly away with me.'

            “Oh, that. Of course, but I have to warn you – pilots make terrible passengers.”

            “So would you fly us to England then? Remind me to give you back your wings in the morning.” Lana murmured.

            “I don't need them any more baby, you make me believe a man can fly.”


            Underneath the plane, the clips holding the chocks had been loosened by the excessive bouncing, one by one they popped open, and the wheels rolled onto the tarmac with gradual but relentless motion.

            “Ummm, Clark?” said Lana, watching the control tower pass by through the cloudy window. “I think we're rolling away!”

            “That's impossible baby.” he explained, “The state this plane is in, it's not going anywhere.”

            “Okay,” shrugged Lana, cuddling back down. “As long as we go together, I don't care which direction.”

            “Well, I do.” smiled Clark, pulling her on top of him.

            “Yeah? And that would be........?” she asked as she leaned down for a kiss.

            “I know for a fact,” he predicted, with a teasing gleam in his eye and flex from his hips, just before their lips connected, “that the only direction in our future is up.”




            LANDING SUCCESSFULLY COMPLETED


            ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


            Thanks to all who read and left a comment. What Clana fans lack in quantity, they make up for in quality. Hope this gladdened your Clana hearts.
            Over and out.
            Seaspray

            Comment


            • #36
              Thanks for the coda every good story has to have a great finish. This is certainly that great finish!

              Comment


              • #37
                And I like to think that the story goes on after we've finished reading. Thanks SG.

                Comment

                Working...
                X
                😀
                🥰
                🤢
                😎
                😡
                👍
                👎