Next came the rustle of clothing, followed by a muffled moan Lois stifled to almost nothing.
Clark's back went rigid.
He pulled his hands from the keyboard and pressed his fists against his knees, his knuckles jutting out.
His super-hearing caught every sound from the glass-walled office: the faint rasp of a zipper, the dull thud of dress shoes retreating two hurried steps, Lois's trembling "Don't... there are people outside..." and then Yongye's brief, teasing laugh.
"So what if there are? Would any of them dare say a word?"
The reporters in the newsroom exchanged uneasy looks.
A young female reporter across from Clark glanced toward Lois's office, then quickly lowered her head and pretended to review her notes.
The veteran reporter at the next desk put on his headphones and turned the volume all the way up.
Perry White stood behind the blinds of the editor-in-chief's office, clutching a coffee cup in one hand and pressing the other to his forehead. He looked as though he had just swallowed an entire bottle of bitter medicine.
No one dared make a remark.
One was a general's daughter; the other was Earth's strongest hero.
Ordinary people who made their living writing couldn't afford to offend either of them.
Clark's fists tightened against his knees.
His super-hearing picked up more details: Lois's voice gradually lost its initial resistance and grew indistinct. The muffled moans, the breaths she struggled to suppress, the sounds she tried to trap between her teeth but couldn't quite hold back—every one of them pierced his ears like a fine needle.
His stomach churned.
But the sounds themselves weren't what hurt him most.
It was the way Lois's voice changed afterward.
Her resistance gave way to a different tone.
He had heard something like it countless times in the