Chapter 5: Office Hours
The clatter of keyboards was a percussive storm against the low hum of the newsroom’s fluorescent lights. It was past ten, and the cavernous space of the Daily Planet was a ghost ship manned by a skeleton crew of the desperate and dedicated. Lois Lane’s fingers flew across her keyboard, a staccato rhythm of pure force of will. The story was a tangle of corruption and lies, and she was the only one who could unsnarl it.
Next to her, Iris West’s typing was softer, more measured, but no less intense. The scent of old coffee and ozone hung in the air between them. Their shoulders occasionally brushed, a casual contact that sent a jolt through Lois’s system every time. It wasn’t the touch itself; it was the memory it unlocked. The cold floor. The scent of damp earth and Ivy’s cloying perfume. The feel of Iris’s skin under her hands—a memory that was equal parts shame and a dark, thrilling heat.
She kept her eyes fixed on her screen. It was the pheromones. A one-time thing. A survival mechanism. She repeated the mantra like a prayer, but the words had started to ring hollow.
Then Cat Grant walked by.
Cat’s heels clicked a deliberate rhythm on the linoleum floor. She was dressed for a late dinner, not a deadline—a tight, crimson sheath dress that hugged every curve, its neckline a deep V that promised everything and revealed just enough. Her perfume, something expensive and floral, cut through the newsroom’s stale air like a declaration of war.
Lois watched her from the corner of her eye. Cat paused by the copier, leaning over to retrieve a jammed sheet. The fabric of her dress stretched taut across her ass. A low, unfamiliar curl of desire tightened in Lois’s belly. It was different from the desperate, chemical need Ivy had forced upon her. This was sharper, more personal. More chosen.
Cat was straight. Cat only liked men. Everyone knew that.
But then again, everyone had thought the same about Lois.
Iris leaned closer, her voice a whisper. “You’re staring, Lane.”
Lois jerked her gaze back to her screen. “I’m not staring. I’m observing. That dress is a cry for help.”
Iris gave a soft, knowing laugh. “Right. A cry for help. Sounds like you’re the one who wants to answer.”
The words landed with the force of a physical blow. Lois didn’t respond. She couldn’t. The idea was already taking root, a dangerous, seductive weed in the ordered garden of her self-image. This wasn’t about survival. This was about curiosity. A test. A way to prove that the person in that cell wasn’t her, that she could step into that shadowy world and step back out on her own terms.
An hour later, the newsroom was nearly empty. Iris had left with a quiet goodnight, her gaze lingering on Lois for a moment too long. Cat was gathering her things, a sleek leather bag slung over her shoulder.
Now or never.
Lois stood up, her chair scraping loudly in the quiet. “Cat. Got a sec?”
Cat turned, a perfectly sculpted eyebrow raised. “If it’s about the Henderson source, Lois, I already filed my piece.”
“It’s not about that.” Lois walked toward her, stopping a few feet away. She could smell the wine on Cat’s breath, see the faint shimmer of gloss on her lips. “It’s about your lead on the LuthorCorp security leaks. I think your source is feeding you disinformation.”
Cat’s eyes narrowed. “My source is impeccable.”
“Is he?” Lois took another step, closing the distance. The air between them crackled. “Or is he just telling you what you want to hear because he wants to get you into bed?”
A faint blush colored Cat’s cheeks. “That’s a cheap shot, even for you.”
“It’s the truth.” Lois’s voice dropped, becoming intimate, challenging. She was in her element now, cornering a source, but the stakes had never felt so personal. “I have information you don’t. But I’m not going to just give it to you. We need to talk. Somewhere… private.”
Cat’s gaze flickered over Lois’s face, down to her determined mouth, then back to her eyes. The defiance in them was shifting, melting into something more uncertain, more intrigued. “My place is closer.”
“The supply room is here,” Lois countered, nodding toward a door marked ‘Authorized Personnel Only.’
A beat of silence. Cat’s lips parted in a small, shocked ‘o’. Then, a slow, calculating smile spread across her face. “Alright, Lane. Let’s talk.”
Lois led the way, her heart hammering against her ribs. The supply room was a cramped, windowless space, smelling of paper dust and toner. She flipped the light switch, casting the room in a sickly yellow glow from a single bare bulb. Stacks of copy paper and boxes of pens lined metal shelves.
As the door clicked shut, Lois turned. Cat was already there, crowding her space, the scent of her perfume intoxicating.
“So,” Cat breathed, her voice a low purr. “What’s this real information?”
Lois didn’t answer with words. She reached out, her fingers tangling in the silk of Cat’s hair, and pulled her into a hard, demanding kiss.
Cat froze for a single, eternal second. Then, with a muffled sound of surprise, she melted. Her mouth opened under Lois’s, her hands coming up to clutch at Lois’s shoulders. The kiss was nothing like the frantic, desperate ones in the cell. This was all power and control. Lois’s tongue plunged into Cat’s mouth, tasting wine and ambition. She bit Cat’s lower lip, not hard, but enough to make her gasp.
Lois broke the kiss, breathing heavily. “The information,” she whispered against Cat’s mouth, “is that you’re not as straight as you think you are.”
She spun Cat around, pressing her front against Cat’s back, pinning her against a stack of paper boxes. Lois’s hands slid from Cat’s hips up to her breasts, cupping them through the thin silk of her dress. She could feel Cat’s heart pounding, a frantic drumbeat against her palms.
“Lois…” Cat’s protest was weak, a token resistance.
“Shut up,” Lois murmured, her mouth against Cat’s ear. She squeezed her breasts, her thumbs circling the hardened nipples she could feel through the fabric. “You’ve been asking for this all night. That dress was a question. I’m giving you the answer.”
She gathered the hem of the tight dress and shoved it up around Cat’s waist. Her hands slid down, over the smooth skin of her stomach, into the lace of her panties. Cat was already wet, hot and slick. Lois groaned, the sensation a vicious thrill. This was real. This was choice.
She tore the flimsy lace aside and pushed two fingers inside Cat without preamble.
Cat cried out, her head falling back against Lois’s shoulder. Her body was tight, clenching around Lois’s invading fingers. “Oh, god…”
“Is this what your source wants?” Lois hissed, fucking her with a rough, steady rhythm. Her other hand clamped over Cat’s mouth, stifling the moans. “Is this the price for your impeccable information?”
Cat shook her head, her body arching back into Lois’s, her hips meeting every thrust. She was nodding, her eyes squeezed shut, lost in the sensation.
Lois withdrew her slick fingers and spun Cat around to face her. She shoved her down onto a low box of printer paper. Cat landed with a gasp, her dress bunched around her waist, her legs falling open. The look on her face was one of utter, debauched shock.
“Now you’re going to taste what a real story feels like,” Lois growled.
She dropped to her knees, pushing Cat’s thighs wider. She didn’t tease. She buried her face in Cat’s cunt, her tongue a flat, ruthless pressure against her clit. Cat’s hands flew to Lois’s head, not to push her away, but to hold her there, her fingers twisting in dark hair.
Lois ate her with a furious hunger. She licked and sucked, driving her tongue inside, then returning to circle that swollen, desperate nub. The taste was powerful, a tangy, feminine musk that was nothing like the memory of the cell. This was conquest. This was proof.
“I’m gonna come,” Cat choked out, her body trembling. “Lois, please…”
Lois redoubled her efforts, her tongue flicking rapidly. She slid two fingers back inside Cat, curling them, finding a spot that made Cat’s whole body seize. She fucked her with her hand while her mouth devoured her.
Cat’s orgasm ripped through her with a strangled scream that was muffled by her own arm. Her back arched violently off the paper box, her inner muscles clamping down on Lois’s fingers in a series of frantic pulses. Lois rode it out, her mouth soft now, her fingers still, until Cat collapsed, boneless and panting.
The silence in the room was broken only by their ragged breaths. The bare bulb hummed overhead. Lois stood up, her knees aching, her face wet. She looked down at Cat Grant, the unflappable gossip queen, now disheveled and exposed on a box of office supplies. A strange, cold satisfaction settled in her chest.
Cat slowly opened her eyes. She looked dazed, her makeup smeared. She slowly pulled her dress down, her movements clumsy.
“So,” Cat said, her voice hoarse. She looked at Lois, a new, unreadable expression in her eyes. “That’s how you verify a source.”
Lois said nothing. She turned, opened the supply room door, and walked back into the empty newsroom. The fluorescent lights seemed brighter, harsher. The thrill was already fading, leaving behind the sharp, metallic taste of a question she had no answer for. She had proven she could do it. She had no idea what, exactly, she had proven herself to be.
She had no idea what, exactly, she had proven herself to be. The thought was a cold stone in her gut as she stood motionless in the buzzing silence of the newsroom. Her fingers, which had flown across the keyboard with such purpose, now felt numb and alien.
The supply room door clicked open. Cat emerged, her movements deliberate as she smoothed down the wrinkled silk of her dress. Her hair was slightly disheveled, but her expression was a carefully reconstructed mask of composure. She walked toward Lois, her heels echoing in the empty space, and stopped a few feet away.
“My place is out of the question,” Cat stated, her voice low and remarkably steady. “My doorman talks.” She looked Lois up and down, a flicker of that same calculating interest in her eyes. “Yours, however, is famously discreet.”
Lois felt a fresh, sharp thrill cut through the numbness. This wasn’t over. It was just changing venues. “Fine,” she said, the word short and clipped. She turned and grabbed her trench coat from the back of her chair, not waiting to see if Cat followed.
They walked to the elevator in a silence so thick it felt like a third presence. The ride down was agonizingly slow, the mechanical whirring the only sound. Lois stared at her own reflection in the polished brass doors, seeing a stranger with flushed cheeks and a dangerously set jaw. Cat stood beside her, perfectly still, examining a flaw in her manicure.
Out on the street, the night air was a cold slap. Lois hailed a cab with a sharp whistle, her breath misting in the halogen glow of the streetlights. She slid in first, giving her address to the driver in a tone that brooked no conversation. Cat settled beside her, the scent of her perfume and their shared sex filling the cramped space.
The cab ride was a blur of passing headlights and silence. Lois kept her gaze fixed on the window, watching the city streak by. She could feel the heat radiating from Cat’s body, a silent accusation and a promise. The memory of the supply room—the rough texture of the cardboard against her knees, the taste of Cat—flooded back with dizzying clarity. This was different from the cell. This was a door she was choosing to walk through, and she was throwing away the key.
Inside her apartment, the door clicked shut, locking out the world. Lois tossed her keys into a ceramic bowl on a console table, the clatter unnaturally loud. She didn’t turn on the main light, leaving the room illuminated only by the ambient glow of the city through her large windows.
Cat set her bag down slowly, her eyes adjusting to the dimness. “So this is the inner sanctum,” she murmured, her gaze sweeping over the messy stacks of books and files. “It’s… very you.”
“Less talking,” Lois said, her voice rough. She closed the distance between them and grabbed a handful of Cat’s hair, yanking her head back to claim her mouth in a savage kiss. It was nothing like the first one; this was stripped of pretense, pure, undiluted hunger.
Cat met her force with equal ferocity, her hands clawing at Lois’s back, dragging her blouse from the waistband of her slacks. “You’re a fucking animal, Lane,” she gasped against Lois’s mouth.
“You have no idea,” Lois growled, spinning her around and pushing her face-first against the cool glass of the window. The entire city sprawled beneath them, a tapestry of indifferent lights. She shoved Cat’s dress up to her waist again, this time tearing the lace panties completely off with a sharp rip. “You wanted a story? This is the fucking epilogue.”
She unbuttoned her own slacks, pushing them and her underwear down just enough to free herself. She was already wet, her body betraying her with a slick, eager heat. She spat into her hand, slicking her fingers, then pressed them against Cat’s entrance. “You’re still open for me,” Lois muttered, working two fingers inside. Cat cried out, her forehead pressing against the cool glass, her breath fogging a circle on the pane.
Lois withdrew her fingers and positioned herself. With one hand splayed on Cat’s back, holding her down, she guided her cock into that wet, clutching heat. She pushed in with a single, brutal thrust, burying herself to the hilt.
Cat’s scream was muffled by the glass. Her body seized, then yielded, accepting the full, deep invasion. “God, yes,” she choked out, her hands slapping against the windowpane.
Lois set a punishing rhythm, fucking her with hard, deep strokes that rocked Cat’s body against the glass. Each thrust was a punctuation mark on her own confusion, a physical rejection of the fragile woman she’d been in that cell. This was power. This was control. She drove into Cat, her hips slapping against the curves of her ass, the wet, filthy sounds of their coupling echoing in the quiet room.
“Is this what you wanted from me, Grant?” Lois grunted, her breath coming in ragged gasps. “This instead of a byline?”
“Harder,” Cat begged, her voice shattered. “Don’t you fucking stop, Lois.”
Lois obliged, her movements becoming faster, more frantic. She reached around, her fingers finding Cat’s clit, rubbing rough, frantic circles. Cat’s moans escalated into broken, incoherent pleas. Lois felt the familiar, tightening coil in her own belly, the pressure building toward a devastating release.
“Come for me,” Lois commanded, her voice a guttural whisper in Cat’s ear. She pinched Cat’s clit between her thumb and forefinger, at the same time driving her cock as deep as it would go.
Cat’s orgasm was a violent convulsion, her inner muscles clamping down on Lois in a series of intense, milking spasms. Her scream was raw and real, echoing off the high ceilings. The sensation was too much. Lois’s own control shattered. With a final, deep thrust, she came, a hot, pulsing release that left her trembling and weak, her forehead pressed against Cat’s sweaty back.
For a long moment, they stayed like that, pinned together by spent passion and the city’s gaze. The only sound was their labored breathing slowly returning to normal. Lois pulled out, a sudden, shocking emptiness following the intense connection. She stepped back, pulling up her slacks with unsteady hands.
Cat slowly turned around, leaning against the glass for support. Her makeup was ruined, her hair a mess, her dress a wrinkled disaster. She looked utterly debauched. And she was smiling, a slow, deeply satisfied curve of her lips.
“Well,” Cat said, her voice husky. “That certainly verifies the hypothesis.”
Lois said nothing. She just stared at the woman in front of her, at the evidence of what they’d done smeared on the window glass. The cold stone of doubt in her gut had been replaced by a different, heavier weight. She had proven she could take what she wanted. The victory felt hollow, and terrifying.
The victory felt hollow, and terrifying. Lois stared at Cat’s smug, satisfied smile, the expression a stark contrast to the smeared makeup and the raw scent of sex hanging between them. Her own body felt like a traitor, still humming with the aftershocks of a pleasure that left her morally stranded. This wasn't the desperate, chemical-fueled need of the cell; this was a cold, calculated dive into a different kind of darkness, and she had chosen it.
“Hypothesis verified,” Cat purred, pushing herself off the glass. She stepped closer, her movements liquid and confident, her eyes tracing the tense lines of Lois’s body. “But a good scientist repeats the experiment. Confirms the data.” Her gaze dropped to the open fly of Lois’s slacks, to the damp fabric beneath. “My turn to run the lab.”
Before Lois could form a protest, Cat closed the final distance and captured her mouth in a deep, searching kiss. It wasn't the savage clash from before; this was slower, more insidious, a tongue exploring with deliberate patience that made Lois’s knees feel weak. Cat’s hands came up to frame Lois’s face, holding her with an unsettling tenderness that was far more dangerous than any force.
Lois tried to summon the anger, the defensive fury that had armored her in the supply room, but it crumbled under the persistent softness of Cat’s lips. A low moan escaped her, a sound of pure surrender. Cat smiled against her mouth. “That’s it, Lois,” she whispered. “Just feel it.”
She broke the kiss and guided Lois backward until her legs hit the edge of the sturdy oak desk. With a firm push, Cat sat her on it, sending a stack of files slithering to the floor. She stood between Lois’s spread knees, her hands working open the buttons of Lois’s blouse with deft efficiency. The cool air hit Lois’s skin, raising goosebumps. Cat peeled the fabric back, exposing her plain black bra.
“So practical,” Cat murmured, her voice laced with amusement. She didn’t fumble with the clasp. She simply yanked the cups down, exposing Lois’s small, firm breasts to the dim light. Lois gasped, the vulnerability a sharp shock. Cat didn’t hesitate. She lowered her head and took one taut nipple into her mouth.
Her tongue was a flat, hot pressure, circling and flicking with a expertise that made Lois’s back arch. She suckled hard, then bit down gently, sending a jolt of pure lightning straight to Lois’s core. “Fuck,” Lois breathed, her hands tangling in Cat’s blonde hair, unsure whether to push her away or hold her closer.
Cat switched to the other breast, giving it the same lavish, ruthless attention. Her hand slid up Lois’s inner thigh, pushing her legs wider. Lois was dripping, her wetness a slick confession on her skin. Cat’s fingers brushed through her curls, a teasing, maddening promise. “You’re so wet for me, Lois,” she whispered against her breast. “All that fight, and you’re just a soaked, aching mess.”
Then she dropped to her knees.
The sight of Cat Grant, on her knees on the floor of Lois Lane’s apartment, was more powerful than any physical touch. It was an image of total submission that was, in reality, an act of absolute control. Cat looked up, her eyes locked on Lois’s, and held her gaze as she pushed Lois’s slacks and underwear down her thighs.
She didn’t bury her face immediately. She leaned in, her breath hot against Lois’s swollen flesh, and inhaled deeply. “God, you smell incredible,” she groaned, the sound genuinely hungry. Then she licked a long, slow stripe from her entrance all the way up to her clit.
Lois cried out, her head falling back. The sensation was electric, a direct line to every nerve ending in her body. Cat’s tongue was relentless, a precise and wicked instrument. She lapped at Lois’s folds, drinking her in, before zeroing in on her clit. She sucked it into her mouth, her tongue flicking over the hypersensitive nub with a rapid, devastating rhythm.
“Oh, god, Cat… right there,” Lois begged, her hips bucking off the desk. She was losing herself, the careful walls she’d built crumbling into dust. This was nothing like the frantic, performative cunnilingus in the cell. This was worship and destruction in equal measure.
Cat slid two fingers inside her, curling them upward, finding a spot that made Lois see stars. She fucked her with her hand in a steady, deep rhythm while her mouth continued its devilish work on her clit. The dual sensation was overwhelming, a tidal wave of pleasure pulling her under. The world narrowed to the feeling of Cat’s mouth, her fingers, the building pressure in her belly.
“I’m gonna come,” Lois warned, her voice a strangled sob.
Cat increased her pace, her fingers pumping faster, her tongue a blur. She looked up, her gaze burning into Lois’s. “Come in my mouth, Lois,” she commanded, her voice muffled by flesh. “Let me taste it.”
The command shattered the last of Lois’s control. Her orgasm exploded through her, a silent, seismic convulsion that ripped a scream from her throat. Her body seized, back bowing, as waves of unbearable pleasure wracked her frame. Cat held her through it, drinking every pulse, her fingers working gently until the last tremor subsided.
Lois slumped forward, boneless, her forehead resting on Cat’s shoulder. She was trembling, utterly spent. Cat gently withdrew her fingers and stood, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She looked down at Lois, a strange, possessive softness in her eyes.
“The data is confirmed,” Cat said quietly, her hand stroking Lois’s damp hair. “You’re not who you thought you were either.”
Lois had no answer. She could only hide her face, the terrifying truth of Cat’s words echoing in the hollow space where her certainty used to live.