It happens once. Then twice. Then it becomes a regular thing at the Daily Planet.

Clark didn't mean for this to happen. You were just so sweet and charming and--God, he couldn't help it!

Now here you are, Clark lifting you up into his arms in some random supply closet as your back is pushed against the shelves. Before an old printer can fall and crash, Clark's arm juts out and catches it--all without breaking away from your lips.

He tosses it somewhere safe before his free hand comes up to the curve of your back and holds you in place. Clark whines--really whines and pulls away for just a moment. His face is flushed, glasses crooked, and his hair's sticking to his forehead.

Cute. You think.

Clark's lips immediately crash back into yours, swiping a tongue on your bottom lip as if he was asking for permission. Like he even needed it. His tongue swirled around your mouth, groaning into your kiss. His hands tighten against your skin, your waist, your hips--anywhere he's able to grab.

"You taste so sweet," Clark mumbles, lazily dropping from your lips, to your jaw, then to your neck. "You're all I want to eat."