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“So you facefucked Kara and told her you were going to marry her on national television,” Lois surmised. “I’m having a cigarette.”

With Clark back to work at the Daily Planet, he’d called an emergency conference on the roof with both of his prospective wives—though he supposed that was only two-thirds of the harem, now. Lois and Lana stalked about the rooftop, Lana sitting on a railing and tightening her grip on the metal while Lois smoked the hell out of a cigarette. Clark tried to avoid X-raying her lungs, concerned as he was. Instead, he unbuttoned some of his shirt, knowing they weren’t about to care that his costume was underneath.

“She assumed I was going to marry her,” he said, “and the face—the oral sex was done in private.”

“I’d rather it be the other way around,” Lois muttered. “It’s not like you’d be the first meta to have a sex tape…”

“Just so we can be on the same team,” Lana said, “which are we on about, the blowjob or the marriage?”

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