Every single day, I get back up for you. I bleed for you, whatever it is I got I squeeze it into your hnads and let it run down your hands, seep into your veins. If it can be broken it can be fixed. If what once as broken was killed it can be brought up again. In your favor. However you want it. The old me was his but I am yours.

His fingers, graceful and deft tremble under the weight of anticipation and the fear of rejection. Normally, he was as confident as they come. Stoic and seedy faced even in the face of certain death. But here, undressed and stripped down to his underwear, kneeling beneath her was heavy on his head. His hands hooked themselves under the waistband of her panties. Red and blue, cheeky.

"You sure?" He asks, voice shaking despite himself. She lets her slender fingers card through his black, silky locks. Soft and feather-light to the touch.

"I've never been more sure in my life, Clark." She lifted herself off the chair and allowed him to slip her panties down her legs. The last of her clothing. Now it was just him and her. Nothing between them. No barriers, no curtains, no disguises. Just them as the day they were born. Clark's heartbeat faltered. He ran his hadns up her leg and felt his hypersensitive fingers catch on the faint hairs growing there. Her scent, natural and not masked by fragrances, wafted in his nose as he leaned closer to press his lips to the top of her knee. He felt her shiver as she looked down on him.

"Take your time, Clark. We have an eternity behind us. Clark smiles at her.

"I'll spend every minute of it right here with you."