By the Grace of Her Light: Clark Kent x Reader
Pairings: Clark Kent x Sun Goddess Reader
Summary: You have been sent by the Temple of Solis to guard an ancient artifact while it sits on display inside the Metropolis Museum of Natural History. When Clark Kent shows up to write an article about the new exhibit, you realize you've never seen anyone more loved by your Sun Goddess. Clark is intrigued when he notices pieces of the sun within you, as well. While the two of you explore a budding romance, the artifact comes under threat, and you're faced with a choice that risks your own life in order to save Superman's.
Word Count: 14,956 (I know, I'm super normal about this)
Author's Note: The Sun Goddess, Temple, and holy language used in this are all made up. Literally made up a whole ass religion just to bang Superman. 🤣
Warnings: 18+, Explicit Sexual Content, porn with major plot, unprotected sex (not advisable, kids), oral (female receiving), fingering, canon typical violence, female reader, reader is mentioned having hair long enough to pin up, religious undertones (but it's a made-up religion with a female deity), no use of Y/N
Please enjoy this feature-length-film of a one-shot that was originally intended to be porn with plot, but then became plot with porn 🤷♀️
Since the beginning of life on this planet, there have always been followers of the Sun Goddess. The plants and trees have been her longest-standing devotees, building the foundations of their very existence around her divine light. When humans came, they proved the depths of their devotion by building shrines in her image. They gathered in temples to worship her directly. They wrote ballads, carved sculptures, and painted masterpieces, all in an effort to capture even the barest essence of her beauty.
You have served at the Temple of Solis for longer than you can remember. Guided by her light and warmth, and motivated by her flaming fury. When you are given your assignment to leave the Temple and travel to Metropolis, of all places, you don't fully understand why. But who were you to question the wisdom of your superiors, who have a much stronger connection to the Divine Goddess than yourself?
A new exhibit is opening at the Metropolis Museum of Natural History on ancient deities, and the Temple is allowing them to borrow some holy artifacts for one of the displays. You've been tasked with facilitating their transfer to the museum, as well as with guarding them for the duration of their stay within the museum's walls. Though many believe these artifacts to be just some ancient relics from a forgotten time, the power housed within them is far too great to be left unattended.
With credentials given to you by the Temple, you are able to get on staff with the museum as an expert on ancient religions, which allows you to stay close to the new exhibit and the artifacts.
It's a few weeks before the official grand opening, when you are informed that you will be speaking on the museum's behalf to one of the local newspapers for their article regarding the new exhibit. You're given a date and a time on when you can expect the journalist's arrival and a sample of a few questions they'll likely ask. You plan your responses and work on a quick guided tour of the exhibit hall.
Fifteen minutes after the expected time, one extremely flustered Clark Kent comes stumbling through the museum doors, glasses skewed, shoulder bag swinging precariously from his arm, and smelling like sun-kissed open skies. You take one look at the man and you know exactly who he is. Hypno-glasses have no effect on a priestess of light. Even without them, there's no concealing the way sunlight seems to bend and stretch its golden fingers toward his direction. You've never seen your Goddess' light react to someone in that manner. Like She mourns his loss when he moves into the shade. He then steps under one of the skylights in the main hall, and suddenly the room feels brighter, solely because he's back within Her reach.
His eyes lock on yours, and you're instantly reminded of the summer skies at the Temple when you and the other priestesses in training would sneak out to cool off by the river. You never expected to find a piece of your home anywhere in this city of steel and concrete. Yet alone someone who seems to have been directly touched by the Goddess you've dedicated your entire being to. You have to clear your throat before introducing yourself, just to keep your voice steady.
He smiles, and his dimples are so adorable, you feel your knees weaken. He shakes your hand, his grip so gentle, he may as well be holding onto a feather. You briefly wonder if he does that to conceal his true strength or because of his true strength. "Sorry, I'm late," he apologizes while fixing his glasses. "Seems like there's always some sort of catastrophe blocking traffic in this city."
The corner of your mouth lifts in amusement as you read between the lines of his comment. "Yes, I have quickly learned that flying appears to be the most reliable form of transportation in Metropolis."
His head tilts, lips parting as he flounders for a response. "I-um... I'm not sure I know what you mean."
You laugh innocently. "Just that Superman seems to be the only one who has the ability to show up on time, while the rest of us have to either walk or sit in traffic."
"Oh," he breathes in relief, shoulders loosening while he chuckles lightly. "Right, of course."
"Well, then," you hide your grin by gesturing further into the museum. "Shall we begin your tour, Mr. Kent? Or did you already have some questions for me?"
"Just Clark, is fine." He sends you a shy smile, his ears turning pink. "I'm not that formal." He then fumbles with his bag, pulling out a notebook and a recording device. "And I most definitely have questions. Do you mind if I record this? Only as source material for the article, I won't post the tour transcripts online or anything. Oh, and what about pictures?"
You want to laugh. He's so endearing that you could probably watch him all day long and never grow bored. "Yes, you can record this for reference, and pictures are fine, just keep the flash off."
"Perfect." He turns on the voice recorder and slips it into his shirt pocket.
You begin leading him toward the new exhibit hall, which is still curtained off from the general public. "Here at the Metropolis Natural History Museum, we believe that education and understanding of the past helps to shape and influence our progression toward our future. And though modern science may have ways of explaining the impossible, there's still a significant gap between explainable forces of nature, versus our understanding of miracles from the Divine. This exhibit has been designed to convey the transformation of human belief in the Divine across time, as our fundamental understanding of the world has also changed. Starting with ancient deities, all the way to our modern perception of God."
You walk Clark through the exhibit, showing him the various artifacts, artworks, and historical relics that the museum has carefully curated for their displays. He asks several insightful questions, which have you stretching your knowledge on the items within the exhibit, especially since this job is just your cover for staying close to the Solis artifacts, rather than your true passion. You're immensely grateful for the several days you spent studying for this interview prior to his arrival.
"Wow, that's gorgeous." Clark's eyes are immediately drawn to the golden display at the back wall of the final room to the exhibit.
You smile to yourself and allow him a moment to take in the display before he snaps a few pictures. "Solis is the oldest God of record to still have a following even in modern times," you explain, a hint of pride sweetening your tone. "What you're seeing here is an ancient headdress for the high priestess of the Temple of Solis, The Sun's Halo."
Stationed behind 2 inches of bulletproof glass is your very reason for being here. The gilded halo crown is so intricately carved, it shimmers like the sun over rippling water, even from the dim fluorescent lights of the museum. It's the most treasured possession of your temple. So much so that you've never even seen it worn. You can hardly believe that they allowed it to be taken from the vault, where it's been held for thousands of years.
"Legend has it that in times of crisis, the high priestess can use the crown to commune with the Goddess herself."
Clark hums thoughtfully, eyes still locked onto it. "A direct link to a God? It's a wonder why no one's already using this. Seems like there's a crisis every day on this planet."
You laugh ruefully. "Well, the legend also states that if one who is unworthy deigns to wear the crown, the wrath of Solis will smite them with a radiant flame so powerful, it will be the last deed they'll suffer on this earth."
Clark blinks heavily and finally rips his gaze away from the relic to give you a look of surprise. "Right. Don't touch the crown." He jots a quick note into his notebook, which makes you laugh.
"The Mother Sun can be quite ruthless if you spark her ire."
He eyes you curiously, "You sound like you're talking from experience."
You shoot him a conspiratorial smile. "I did my dissertation on Solis, and instead of finishing my first draft, I took the day off to go to the beach with some friends. Worst sunburn I've ever had in my life."
Clark chuckles in amusement. "Do you think that could have been avoided by a little sunblock?"
You shrug, still smiling in jest. "Normally, when I'm not incurring the Goddess's wrath, I don't need any."
"So, what exactly does one have to do to stay in her favor?" There's still a teasing lilt to his tone, but you also catch the flash of genuine curiosity in his eyes.
Your skin warms under the gentle intensity of his gaze. "Well, the easiest ways to win her favor are to appreciate her presence. Even the smallest of gestures have a way of adding up. Saying hello to the sunrise when you wake up in the morning. Taking a moment to truly feel the breeze on a sunny day. Giving thanks for the food on your plate that was grown under the grace of her light. Even grander gestures are also a surefire way to earn her blessing. Kindness, generosity, hope."
"Hope?" he repeats.
You're not surprised that the word caught his attention. "Well, what greater meaning could you possibly derive from the first rays of the sun after a seemingly endless night?"
He takes in your words with a soft nod of understanding. "You seem to know a lot about Solis. Are you with the Temple?"
You blink and rip your gaze from his, realizing you've been letting your passion leak through too much, and you may have just blown your cover. You quickly scramble for an acceptable response. "While conducting research for my dissertation, I fell in love with her teachings. I apologize if I came off a little preachy."
"No, you were perfect," Clark insists while shaking his head. His next words come out quickly, like he can hardly even contain them within his body. "Would you like to have dinner with me?"
You stare in surprise, head slowly tilting to the side. "Is this on or off the record?"
"Oh, Golly," he hastily reaches for the recorder in his pocket and turns it off. "I'm sorry, I'm not usually so unprofessional. It's just, you're so pretty—I mean, you seem pretty intelligent, and I like hearing you talk—Uh, talk about Solis. I find it incredibly fascinating and would love to hear more."
He's like a golden retriever puppy; tail wagging in excitement, but tripping over his own paws. It's incredibly charming without feeling excessive. You couldn't fight the grin tilting your lips even if you wanted to. "I get off work at 6 on Friday." Your eyes sparkle coquettishly. "And I've heard that Helios Steakhouse has good reviews."
He raises a brow over the rim of his glasses. "Wouldn't a place like that be considered sacrilege for someone trying to keep from Solis' wrath?"
Your grin is cheeky and mischievous. "Luckily, my Goddess also has a sense of humor." Your heels click on the hardwood floor as you start walking backward toward the exit. "Well, Clark, I believe that concludes our interview. Did you have any further questions for me?"
His eyes flash with heat at the sultry lilt of his name on your lips. "I think I've got everything I need for the article, but just in case, maybe I should grab your number?"
Smooth, Kent. Real smooth.
You make your way back over to him, maintaining eye contact as you reach for the pen and notebook in his hand. At the bottom of the page, under his hastily scribbled notes, you jot down your number, followed by a quick doodle of a sun. “That’s my personal number, so you can reach me, even after hours.” You hand the notebook and pen back to Clark with a saucy wink.
His cheeks flush, instantly ruining the stoic and composed look he was going for. “Thanks,” he smiles shyly.
You escort him back to the main hall, slipping back into your professional persona now that other guests and museum staff are around. “It was nice meeting you, Mr. Kent. I look forward to reading your article.”
“You, too,” he says, shaking your hand again, his hold a little firmer this time around. “The new exhibit seems like a real show stopper. It’s both informative and visually appealing. I’m sure it will be quite successful.”
“Thank you. I’ll be sure to extend your praise to the team.”
“Please do.” He releases your hand, and your fingers flinch at the loss of contact.
You’ve only just met the man, but as you watch him walk out the doors to the museum, you can’t help but notice that it feels like he’s taken a part of you with him.
Friday evening doesn’t come fast enough. You spend the remainder of the week finalizing preparations for the exhibit’s grand opening. There’s going to be an unveiling ceremony for the museum’s donors the night before it opens to the public. You’re in constant communication with the caterers and wine suppliers to make sure everything goes off without a hitch. Then the graphic artist sent over the PDF file for the updated Museum map, but there were several egregious spelling errors, and they had mixed up the placement of the bathrooms with the emergency fire exits. On top of all of that, you get called out to the main floor to give VIP tours at least three times a day.
You’re definitely missing life at the Temple while you’re heading out the employee exit of the museum, but then your eyes land on the broad shoulders of one Clark Kent, and all your worries seem to wash away. He turns at the sound of your heels clicking softly on the pavement and smiles as soon as those cerulean orbs have you in their focus. “Hi,” he grins boyishly, meeting you halfway.
You find yourself matching his grin with one of your own. “Hey there.” As soon as he’s within reach, you lean closer and place a kiss of greeting to his cheek. “From ancient deities to modern Gods, the hands of the Divine have shaped mankind’s perceptions of the world both as it is and how it could be.”
Clark bashfully drops his gaze to his shoes. “You read the article.”
You giggle at his pinkening ears. “I told you I would.” You hook your arm through his and begin walking in the direction of the restaurant.
He falls into step with you, a little too aware of how nicely you fit against him. “Did you like it?” He feels pathetic for asking, like a puppy seeking approval from its new owner, but he can’t help himself.
“It was a glowing review of the exhibit. Of course, I liked it.” You smile like a cat that’s just caught a mouse. “Although, did I detect a hint of bias?”
Clark clears his throat and averts his gaze. “Maybe you’re just really good at giving tours.”
You laugh, but before you can tease him further, there’s a distant boom followed by a smoke cloud from what looks like Downtown Metropolis. Your smile quickly turns into a frown of concern. “That doesn’t look good…”
Clark stiffens next to you. “Um, I just realized my wallet is missing. I think I dropped it in the subway. Why don’t you head for the restaurant, and I’ll catch up with you in a minute?”
You look up into his anxious gaze. “Oh, okay.” He’s a terrible liar, but you don’t tell him that. You unlink your arm from his and give him an encouraging smile. “Be careful.”
He smiles like he’s got a secret, but he appreciates the sentiment. “I will.” He rushes off. Not even in the direction of the nearest subway. You smile to yourself and shake your head, wondering how no one else has found him out yet, or if they're all pretending to be oblivious, like you.
Fifteen minutes later, you make it to the restaurant. Thirty minutes after that, Clark comes running around the corner, his tie missing, hair ruffled, and a streak of ash on his cheek. You’re still waiting outside the restaurant, but you now have a bag of takeout in one hand and some plastic cutlery in the other. “The restaurant’s pretty crowded. I thought it might be nicer to find a bench by the water and watch the sunset while we eat,” you explain when Clark gives you a curious look over.
His eyes soften. “That sounds great.” He takes the bag from you, ever the gentleman. You thread your freed-up fingers through his, feeling the warmth of his palm against yours.
“Did you find your wallet?”
“Huh?” He looks confused until he remembers the excuse he gave you earlier. “Oh, yeah! It was in the lost and found. Took them a while to find it, since it hadn’t been officially logged yet.”
“You’re lucky no one stole it.”
He chuckles good-naturedly, “Well, this isn’t Gotham.”
You hum in agreement.
There’s a free bench by the waterfront that you both settle into, shoulders and thighs brushing as you eat from the takeout boxes in your lap and talk. Clark tells you about growing up in Kansas and how different everything seemed to be out here when he came to Metropolis for school. You tell him that you’re also still growing used to Big-City-Life.
“So, what drew you to Solis? If you don’t mind me asking.” Clark’s eyes are full of curiosity.
You smile fondly toward the pink and orange hues painting the horizon. “I’ve always loved the sun. On nice days, it was practically impossible to keep me cooped up indoors. My parents used to call me Sun Beam, because I was happiest when I was out playing in the sun.”
Clark's eyes are as soft as a spring morning, his smile like the first rays of the sun after the rain. “Sun Beam… It suits you.”
Your cheeks warm, whether in embarrassment or from the intensity of his gaze, you’re not sure. “When I found out there was a practicing faith dedicated to the sun, I was beyond excited. And then the first time I visited the Temple of Solis… it felt like coming home.”
The two of you sit in companionable silence as the sun dips below the horizon. You mutter a short prayer under your breath, more out of habit than anything else.
“What was that?” Clark questions.
Your gaze swings back to his, having forgotten that he has super hearing. “Sorry. That was a short prayer to Solis in the language of the sun. It roughly translates to By the Grace of Her Light. You’re supposed to say it in moments you’re feeling grateful or as a thank you to Solis at the end of a day. It’s like saying thank you for the light that she provides the Earth.”
“Can you teach it to me?” Clark asks, eyes not just inquisitive, but wanting. Like he’s genuinely interested in learning about your faith.
Oh Goddess, is this man easy to fall in love with...
A few minutes later, and there’s a stitch in your side from how hard you’re laughing while this poor Kansas farm boy tries and fails to speak the language of the sun. “You need to roll the R, Clark! Rrrrr… Gratiserrrrraa,” you say it slow and drawn out. “Per gratisera,” you say the beginning of the phrase again at normal speed.
“Great-E-Syrup. That’s the best I’ve got.” He shakes his head while laughing with you. “I don’t think my mouth was designed to make those sounds.”
Amusement lights up your features in the dimming daylight. “All right, hotshot. What is your mouth made for, then?” You don’t realize the implication behind your teasing jab until it’s already slipped past your lips.
Clark goes still, eyes flickering down to your smile. “...I’d say it can do this pretty well.” You barely have the chance to take in a breath before you feel the brush of his lips against yours. He cups the side of your face, head tilting a little as he deepens the kiss. You moan into his mouth, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt where your hand rests against his chest. You feel the brush of his tongue against the seam of your lips and are utterly helpless as they part and invite him in like a long-lost friend. Now Clark is the one moaning, because the moment your taste reaches him, he’s hooked. You’re like liquid sunlight, vibrant and golden, and seeping into him like you have more light inside of you than you know what to do with.
“Wowza…” He pulls back, looking at you like he’s never been kissed like that before. “You taste like sunshine.”
You giggle at his words. “Does sunshine taste good?”
He grins and leans back in. “Let me have another taste to make sure.”
Your fingers dive into the curls at the nape of his neck as you sigh against him. His tongue finds yours once more, and just like before, he feels a steady stream of energy flowing into him. It’s not nearly as potent as when he’s being healed at the Fortress, but the sensation is unmistakable. “Is this what taking a shot of espresso feels like?” he mumbles against you.
You laugh while pulling back and look at him dubiously, not entirely understanding his reaction. “You’ve never had a shot of espresso?”
He flounders for a response. “Um, I have, but caffeine doesn’t really affect me.”
You hum, tightening your hold around his neck. “Well, then I guess that just means you’ll need to come find me when you’re in need of a pick-me-up.”
He grins, letting you pull him back in. “Guess so…”
The sun has long since set by the time the two of you are leaving the bench and heading back home. Clark’s suit jacket is draped over your shoulders to protect you from the barely chilled evening breeze. Summer nights in Metropolis are fairly warm, but you’re not going to reject his act of chivalry.
He walks you to your apartment building and even follows you up to your door, just so he can be sure you’ve gotten home safe.
“Do you want to come inside?” you offer, fiddling with your keys instead of opening to door.
He looks down at your kiss-swollen lips, and you see the temptation in his eyes, but after a second, he shakes his head and shifts back half a step. “I shouldn’t. I’m not normally even a kiss-on-the-first-date kind of guy.”
“I can respect that.” You smile up at him so sweetly, it makes him want to take back his words even more.
“When can I see you again?” Does he sound desperate? Does he care if he does? The answer to the first is yes, the answer to the second is no.
You either don’t notice or don’t mind that he’s practically whining for the scraps of your attention. “I’ve got an empty +1 slot for the Donor’s Gala, the night before we open the exhibit. Would you be interested?”
“I would,” he responds immediately. Good gosh, was he always this pathetic?
Your smile is pure radiance. “Okay. I’ll text you the details. It’s a black-tie event. I hope you’ve got a tux.”
“I do,” he confirms.
You finally turn and push the key into your door. “Have a good night, Clark.”
“Good night.” He has to physically curl his hands into fists to restrain himself from chasing after you for one more of your sunshine kisses. Your door clicks shut and he doesn’t have the strength to stop himself from activating his x-ray vision. You’re leaning with your back against the door and have your fingers pressed to your lips. Clark feels a jolt of victorious satisfaction running through him. He smiles to himself and it takes extra effort to keep his feet on the ground as he walks away.
Three weeks and two weekend coffee dates later, it’s Donor’s Night at the museum. You asked Clark to meet you there, since you were going to have to work all day for the last-minute preparations. Sweetheart that he is, he showed up an hour early bearing a fresh cup of coffee and a box of cookies. You could have kissed him on the spot. In fact, you did. He smiled all giddy and asked if there was anything he could do to help.
“Catering table three in the Dinosaur Hall keeps losing power, and I haven’t had the chance to get over there to see what’s going on. Can you take a look?”
“Sure thing.”
Twenty minutes later, he finds you organizing pamphlets at the guest services counter.
“They were running two different power strips into a third one, and it kept tripping the surge protector. I got them all sorted and politely scolded them for nearly burning this whole place down.”
You smile gratefully. “A verbal lashing from Clark Kent? Sorry, I missed it.”
He averts his gaze, cheeks dusting a light pink. “I wasn’t mean about it.”
You laugh and make your way out from behind the desk. You lean close and kiss the corner of his mouth. “Thank you. You’re the best.” He wants to lean in for a proper kiss, but you’re already stepping away. “I need to get changed before the first of the guests start arriving.” You walk a few more steps before glancing over your shoulder with a raised brow. “Are you coming?”
Clark blinks in surprise, “Oh!” He quickly trails after you, following you through the Employees Only door and to the back offices.
There’s a garment bag hanging off the wall sconce near your desk. You grab it on your way to the employee bathroom. You reemerge a few minutes later, draped in pale yellow silk, clenching bobby pins between your teeth while you attempt to tame your hair into an acceptable updo for the company you’re about to keep. “Can you get my zipper?” you ask Clark, flashing him with your bare back.
He gulps and feels the temperature of the room rise significantly. You’ve got too much on your mind to really notice the way Clark’s knuckles brush against your skin as he drags the zipper up your back, but he’s in pure agony. One wrong move and he could all too easily tear the fabric. He has to hold his breath too, because you’ve sprayed just a hint of some type of floral perfume that smells so good, it’s making him dizzy. When the zipper reaches the end of its track, you flash Clark a smile over your shoulder, completely unaware of the torture you’re putting him through. You walk around him to swap out your work heels for a dressier pair and then touch up your makeup in a compact mirror.
“Okay,” you breathe, running through your mental checklist. When you’re certain that you’re as prepared as you can possibly be, you turn back to Clark. “All right, Kent, which smile says thank you for the donations without also looking like I want to throw up on everything you did to amass such wealth; this one or this one?” You show him two different types of practiced smiles.
He chuckles, “Definitely number two. I can feel the hostility in your eyes with number one.”
“Good to know.” You link your hand with his and tug him back out to the main hall. As guests start showing up, you force yourself away from the relative safety of his presence in order to mingle and network with the donors. An hour later, and you realize Clark might be doing some networking of his own, because you’re pretty sure you caught him chatting with Bruce Wayne next to the display of Panathenaic amphorae. You’re beginning to lose track of time the more your feet start to hurt in these stilettos. Designer does not equal comfort.
You feel a familiar warmth at your side moments before Clark’s hand rests against your back. “Careful, you’re starting to give your number one smile,” he warns in a low tone.
You moan in discomfort and lean more against him. “Goddess, smite me here and now. I don’t have the strength for smile number 2.”
Clark laughs quietly, arm tightening around your waist. “I don’t want your goddess to smite you. Here or anywhere.”
“Well, if it isn’t Clark Kent… Shouldn’t you be out chasing after Superman?”
Smile number one makes its way back onto your face as you both turn toward Lex Luthor’s approaching figure.
“I report on other things,” Clark responds, a hard edge to his tone you’ve never heard him use with anyone else before.
Lex smirks dryly, “Yes, like the heavy-handed drivel you spewed about this sorry excuse of a collection. Clearly, you had someone you were trying to impress.” His eyes switch to you, making you feel unclean as he rakes his gaze over your form. “I’ll give you some points, Kent. She may very well be the most interesting thing in this room. Her, and the object she was sent here to protect.”
Your entire body stiffens before you can tell yourself not to react, because he knows. You don’t know how, but the glint of interest in his eyes is unmistakable. It’s not the same kind of interest that Clark looks at you with. It’s pure greed. A hunger for power he has no right to covet. Power he doesn’t even understand.
You feel Clark’s hand tighten against your waist and it’s the only thing stopping you from dashing forward and clawing that smug grin off Lex Luthor’s face. He takes a sip from his glass of wine and continues to smile knowingly before he moves on and blends into the crowd.
“That man is the worst,” Clark mutters, watching him leave before he looks down at you and realizes how shaken up you are. “Hey, are you okay?”
“I need to make a phone call.”
You rush back through the Employees Only door, Clark hot on your heels. “What’s going on?” he asks, noticing how your hands shake as you reach for your cellphone that sits on your desk and activate a number you have on speed dial.
You’re talking as soon as the line picks up, and Clark quickly realizes that he doesn’t understand a single word you’re saying, but he doesn’t need to know the foreign language in order to grasp the severity of the situation. He hears you say Solis several times, and then recognizes the cadence of your words from the prayer you’d tried to teach him on your first date. What did you call it? The language of the sun. That’s what you’re speaking right now. While you pace and speak urgently into the phone, Clark is starting to connect the dots. Clearly, you’re much more involved with the Temple of Solis than some Grad Student’s fleeting interest. He’d already had his suspicions on that, but now they were confirmed. And Lex mentioned that you were sent here to protect something. It’s not difficult to piece out what.
Your tone changes to desperate pleading as you argue with the person on the other side before they hang up. You gape at the phone, barely even able to comprehend what they told you.
“Lex Luthor is going to try to steal the crown, isn’t he?” Clark asks, drawing your attention back to him.
The despair on your face makes his stomach clench. “Yes,” you whisper, like saying it too loud will bring it into existence this very moment.
Clark’s brows pinch together. “Lex Luthor can buy just about anything. He’s not a jewel thief. Why would he even want it?”
You release a long sigh while tossing your phone back onto the desk and rub at your temples with your other hand. “Because the legends about it are true,” you finally confess. Your hand drops from your face, and then you cross your arms over your chest like it’s the only thing keeping you in one piece. You lift your eyes back to Clark’s. “Whoever wears the crown… wields the Sun.”
He blanches as your words fully sink in. “Golly…” He runs his fingers through his unruly curls. “Well, what did the temple say? Are they sending more people to help you protect it?”
You scoff and look to the ceiling, willing the tears stinging the back of your eyes not to fall. “They said that Solis is testing me and I’m supposed to handle this on my own.”
“What?” he stares at you incredulously. “A holy relic powerful enough to control the sun, and they’re leaving one person to protect it against a man with his own private army?”
Your voice wavers from the stress bleeding into your veins like poison. “Oh, I am abundantly aware of the situation, Clark! Thank you very much.”
He grimaces and rubs at the back of his neck. “Sorry, that wasn’t very helpful.” He steps closer and gently grasps your shoulders. “Even without the Temple, you’re not alone. I’m here. I’ll help you keep the crown safe.”
Your breath hitches in your throat. “I don’t know what to do.”
Clark pulls your body into his chest, arms wrapping securely around you while he tucks your head under his chin. “We’ll figure it out together.” His grip tightens when he feels you shudder against him.
After you’ve had a minute to calm down, the two of you make your way back out to the gala. Things are already starting to wind down, and Lex Luthor is nowhere in sight. You make your way to the back of the new exhibit, and are only able to take in a full breath once your eyes land on The Sun’s Halo and you confirm it’s still safe. Once the last of the guests have left, you kick off your heels and quickly collapse into a chair at one of the dining tables. The caterers are packing up, and the cleaning crew will be here soon, but you’re too exhausted to care.
Clark kneels on the ground in front of you and gives you a worried look. “You’ve had a long day. Why don’t you head home and get some rest? I’ll watch over the crown tonight.”
Your hand reaches out, brushing the curls off his forehead. “If I go home, I won’t be able to sleep.”
The concern in his eyes only grows. “Honey, you’re gonna have to sleep eventually.”
It takes you a second to remember that there are foldout beds in the supply closet. “There’s a cot here that I can use. We host slumber parties for the summer camp kids. I just need to pull something out of storage.”
Clark helps you carry the cot and a vacuum-sealed bag with blankets and sheets out of the storage room and sets it up in the employee lounge while you change out of your dress and back into your work attire. It’s not as good as pajamas, but better than the constricting dress. By the time you’re coming out of the bathroom, Clark has rolled your desk chair over to the cot and is making himself comfortable in it. He’s removed the top half of his tuxedo, leaving him in his white undershirt and slacks.
“Are you sure you don’t want to set up another bed?” you ask, standing between his legs.
He smiles and shakes his head, hands resting gently on your hips as he looks up at you. “I’ll be okay. I don’t need much sleep to function.”
You run your fingers through his hair and watch how his eyes fall shut at the sensation of your nails against his scalp. “Thank you for coming tonight, Clark,” you tell him with weight behind your words. “For being here now.”
He blinks his eyes back open, sky-blue pools full of sincerity and significance. “You’re not alone in this.”
Your palms cup either side of his face as you lean down to kiss him. It’s raw and heavy. Not suffocating, just meaningful. It’s less teasing and more substance as you convey your emotions through action rather than words. When you pull back, even Clark is a little breathless. You rest your forehead against his, your eyes still closed. “Thank you,” you whisper once more, breath tickling his lips like a summer breeze.
“Get some sleep, Sun Beam.” Despite the situation, the fear and uncertainty, hearing that nickname from him manages to pull a small smile out of you.
Shifting away, you half walk, half stumble into the cot. You lie on your side, facing Clark as he rolls the chair closer to you. His hand wraps around yours, where it rests on the mattress. Your blinks become slower as your exhaustion settles in. Fighting the urge to sleep is a losing battle and it’s not much longer before you’re out.
Morning comes without any sort of break-in attempt, but this does nothing to ease your frazzled nerves. Clark runs home after you’re awake to change out of his tux, then comes back with coffee, pastries, and a change of clothes for you. It’s the first day of the new exhibit now being open to the public. You’re not sure if that means Luthor will be more, or less likely to strike. On one hand, it’s a lot of witnesses, but on the other, large crowds make blending in easier.
All your panic and planning are for naught, because it ends up being a completely normal day at the museum. The worst part had been when some guests ignored the Emergency Exit signs all over a set of doors and tripped the fire alarm. You were certain that it was Lex Luthor’s doing, and it took Clark nearly an hour to get you to calm down.
The next few days seem to follow a similar pattern. Normal inconveniences that come with the territory of running a public attraction that used to just have you rolling your eyes, instead are sending you into borderline panic attacks. It’s made worse when Clark needs to start going back to the Daily Planet. You know you can’t keep him away from his day job, and if anything were to actually happen, he could be here faster than anyone else, but not having him close by makes you feel like you’re spiraling.
Three months pass without even a whisper of action from Lex. At this point, you’re starting to gaslight yourself into thinking you blew his words way out of proportion. Maybe it was just an eccentric billionaire’s way of making a bad joke?
You’re going through some feedback emails and are compiling a report to give to the board of directors regarding the success of the new exhibit when you hear a familiar gate walking toward your desk. Clark smiles when you look up and spot him. He waves in greeting to some of your coworkers, who all know him by name at this point, because he’s here so often. He’s holding a wicker basket and has a checkered blanket tucked under his arm.
“I thought we could have lunch out on the grass,” he explains once he’s reached your desk.
You glance at the clock on your computer screen and realize that it is indeed time for your lunch break. “Perfect timing.” You save your files, then push out your chair and stand to give Clark a kiss on the cheek. You thread your fingers through his free hand and pull him out the back door to the small grassy park behind the museum. You pick a spot in the sun and Clark spreads out the blanket while you’re kicking off your heels and diving into the picnic basket. Lunch is simple: handmade sandwiches with potato chips and fresh lemonade, but the bread is nice and fluffy, and the chips have the perfect amount of salt, especially when chased down with a refreshing sip of lemonade.
Clark asks you how work is going, and you try to play off your response as nonchalant, but he sees right through you.
“You look tired.” He doesn’t say it to be mean. He’s concerned about you.
You scoff, and your smile is self-deprecating, “Well, I’m still not sleeping well, so that tracks.” You take another sip of lemonade to avoid his gaze.
“You know, I’ve been told my lap can be a pretty comfy spot for a quick nap,” he offers while patting the top of his thigh.
This time, your laugh is more genuine. “By who?”
He grins back. “By the farm cat we had growing up, mostly.”
Your amusement is plain to see as you move your plate and lemonade to the side before lying down with your head on his leg. “Did this cat tell you other things?” you ask teasingly, shifting into a more comfortable position and closing your eyes.
Clark chuckles softly and starts running his fingers from the top of your temple down the side of your face. “My parents kept him around to catch mice in the barn, but he was mostly feral. Hissed and spat at anyone who got too close. I’ve never seen an angrier ball of fluff. I used to sit with it in the barn, after all my homework and chores were done. I don’t really know why. I guess I didn’t want him to feel lonely. In the beginning, if I sat down too close, he’d get up in a huff and move somewhere else, but after a while, he started letting me get just a little bit closer. Then one day, I was sitting cross-legged, watching the sunset from the loft, when I felt the tiniest amount of weight settling into my lap, and there he was. He didn’t purr and he didn’t fuss, just curled up and went right to sleep. I spent the whole night trying not to breathe too hard, and by sunrise, I could no longer feel my legs, but he stayed with me the whole time.”
There’s a serene smile on your lips as you listen to the story. “That’s so sweet.”
Clark’s fingers come to a stop as he debates whether or not he wants to ask the question that’s been eating away at him for the last several weeks. He’s scared that asking it might put things in motion, but not having the answer to it is slowly killing him. “Why haven’t you taken the Halo back to the Temple?” he finally asks.
Your eyes snap open, the smile sliding off your face as you tilt your head to look up at him. “You want me to leave?”
“No! Of course not,” he insists. “But if you’re so worried about the Halo’s safety that you can’t get a proper night’s sleep… wouldn’t it be better to take it back to where you know it will be safe?” He feels like there are rocks in his throat when he speaks. He doesn’t want to have to say goodbye to you, but he’s also worried about your health. He can see how much all this uncertainty is affecting you.
You’re silent for a long moment, eyes looking up at him like you’re searching his soul for the answer to his question. “Solis sent me here for a reason… and I can’t leave until I find out why.”
“Well then—” Clark’s response is cut off by the sound of distant screaming.
You sit up quickly and scan your surroundings with him, trying to figure out what’s going on. “Oh Goddess…” you breathe, when you notice the gigantic wave of black cresting over the edge city. You turn and see another wave towering over the buildings on that side, too. You’re completely surrounded. As the waves spread higher and higher, they seem to be coming together into some sort of focal point in the middle. Not waves… “It’s a dome,” you mumble, still hardly believing what you’re seeing with your own eyes. The blackness suddenly becomes high enough that it blocks out the sun, immediately covering you in shadow. As soon as the black waves have hit the peak of the dome, the entire city is completely shrouded in black.
“What in the world?” Clark questions, looking just as confused as you feel.
Your eyes are still adjusting to the sudden darkness as the streetlamps start turning on, one by one.
Clark’s gaze drops from the dome back to you, a sense of urgency in his eyes. “Get to the Halo.”
Your breath stutters in your chest when you realize that this dome definitely has Lex Luthor written all over it. He’s finally making his move. “Okay,” you nod, grabbing your heels. “Are you coming with me?” you ask when you notice he’s not moving to pack up his things.
“I’ll catch up with you in a minute.”
You pause, reading the severity of his expression. “Be careful, Clark.”
He nods once. “You too.” He watches you run for the building and waits until you’re safely inside before he takes off, shooting into the sky to investigate this strange black dome that’s enshrouding the entire city.
You open the bottom drawer of your desk, pulling out the combat boots and tactical gear you’ve been keeping here for this exact situation. The guests and museum staff have already evacuated and abandoned the building by the time you’re settling yourself in front of the crown’s display case. You input your access code to the case next to the crown’s and pull out the twin gilded blades. Weapons used by the Guardians of Solis. You feel their familiar weight in your grip and give them a few test swings, hearing the metallic twang of the blades slicing through the air.
It doesn’t take long before Luthor’s squad of Raptors arrives. They’ve split into two teams and immediately flank you by coming in through the main entrance and the back exit at the same time. You pounce before either team gets a chance to take action, slicing through their specialized armor and weapons with ruthless intensity. You have the upper hand in the first few heartbeats of battle, but there are so many of them, it doesn’t take long for them to turn the tide and back you into a corner.
A startled scream rips out of your throat when the ceiling suddenly collapses above you. Dust and falling debris have you coughing as you jump out of the way. Crushed under a large wooden support beam and broken pieces of plaster is a familiar figure in blue. A different Raptor, even bigger than the ones you’d been fighting, is standing over him with a heavy metal boot on his back. Even more of them swarm into the room from the new entrance that’s been blasted into the ceiling.
“Superman!” You try to get to him, but the army of Raptors quickly overpowers you. They force you to your knees and twist your arms until you drop your blades.
Your cries of pain cause a visceral reaction in Superman. He tries to push himself up, but between the support beam and the Raptor’s boot, he stays pinned to the ground. He coughs and a spray of blood splatters on the floor in front of him. “Let her go, Luthor. She’s innocent.” He tries to sound strong, but his voice wavers.
The Raptor above him kneels down and grabs a fistful of his hair, yanking his head back before slamming it into the floor.
“Stop it!” you scream, struggling against your own captors.
Luthor’s voice comes out of a drone that’s sitting back and observing the situation. “Innocent? Hardly. She’s the one who brought a weapon of mass destruction to the heart of Metropolis. I’d say I’m doing the world a favor by taking it off her hands.” His maniacal laughter makes you feel sick. “Also, she’s been shaking up with your favorite journalist. That puts her just one degree separated from you. Too close for my taste. Take the crown, then do whatever you want with the girl. The more she screams, the better.”
“No!” Your eyes meet Superman’s for a split second and the utter devastation on his face makes your heart twist.
Your vision of him gets blocked by the Raptor standing in front of you. You stare defiantly into the soulless lenses of their suit’s mask, and you see your reflection in the glass. Their hand moves faster than you can react, pain exploding against your cheek as your head whips to the side. A trail of blood leaks out of the corner of your mouth as metal coats your tongue.
The gigantic Raptor finally steps off Superman’s back and makes his way to the crown’s display case. He rears his arm back and slams it into the glass. It cracks from the powerful blow, but the integrity of the case holds. He pulls back again and again, each hit causing the cracks to spiderweb and grow, until finally, it shatters completely.
You watch in horror as he reaches through and pulls The Sun’s Halo from its pedestal. The desolation of your failure hits you all at once. You’ve failed the Temple. You’ve failed your Goddess. You’ve failed Clark. And now the worst possible person in the world is going to have unlimited power.
Before you can fall completely into despondency, something strange begins to happen. The Raptor holding the Halo starts to scream. White light glows from his clenched fist. No. Not light. White fire. It starts at his hand but quickly licks up his entire arm. In just a few seconds, his entire body is engulfed in flame. His screams are the sound of nightmares as the Divine flame purges him from the inside out.
It doesn’t stop there. Even after the flame has turned his vocal cords to ash, it continues to spread, pooling out from his feet and spreading across the room. The Raptors that hesitate are instantly consumed by the flames. The ones that don’t, take off through the hole in the ceiling or run away in panic. The ones holding you down are part of the group that runs. Some of them aren’t fast enough.
As soon as you’re free, you’re scrambling across the room and throw yourself over Superman’s body in an effort to protect him from the flames. You curl in tight around him and squeeze your eyes shut, waiting for the pain, waiting for the heat to reach you, too. It never does.
Several agonizing seconds later and the screaming has finally stopped. You blink your eyes open and cautiously look over your shoulder. The white flames are going out and the Halo stops glowing moments before it clatters to the floor with a soft clank. There are charred shadows on the ground where the flame meted out its divine retribution, but other than that, there’s nothing left of those that faced judgment.
You look back down and find that Superman has lost consciousness under you. “Superman!” you call, shaking his shoulder. “Clark!” you cry desperately. That causes his eyes to snap open. He groans in pain, and when he tries to breathe, he instead coughs up more blood. “Hang on, Clark. Stay with me!”
His unfocused gaze finally snaps to you. “You’re not supposed to know it’s me…”
In any other situation, you would have laughed; instead, all you can do is sob. “I know. I’ve always known.”
“That… makes a lot of sense, actually.” He tries to shift and grimaces against the pain. “You accepted every excuse I gave you and never got mad when I showed up late. Thought you were just really trusting…”
You choke on an attempted laugh. “I’m not. I just trust you.” You brush his sweaty, matted curls off his forehead. “Clark, we need to get you out from under this rubble. Luthor will send more men.”
“I can’t,” he huffs, the pain making his head swim. “It’s the dome. Without access to the sun, I can’t heal, and I lose my strength. I’m practically human.”
Your mind scrambles for ideas; leaving him here is not an option. “Then what if I brought the sun to you?”
“What?” he feels dread pool in his gut when he follows your gaze. “No!” he urges, grabbing your wrist in his weakened grasp. “You saw what it just did to those soldiers!”
You turn back to Clark and smile like you’ve already accepted your fate. “It’ll be okay. This is why She sent me here.”
“What if it isn’t? What if you—” he can’t bear to say it. “I can’t lose you!”
“Clark… You’re Superman. You take the gift of Solis’ light, and you do amazing things with it. You fight for everything that She stands for. You’re Her number one champion. I realize now that She sent me here for you. For this exact moment. She sent me here because She loves you. And I stayed because I love you.” His breath catches at your confession. “I love you, Clark. And while you’re out there protecting the world… I’m going to be protecting you.”
You brush your fingers over his face one more time before gently extracting your wrist from his grasp. “Wait,” he urges, but you’re already walking toward the crown.
You start speaking in the language of the sun, uttering the oath you gave on the day you were knighted as a Guardian of the Sun. You pledge your loyalty to Solis and promise to uphold her principles and values against all odds. To reach for the light beyond the darkness. To dedicate yourself to a cause greater than yourself. Per Gratisera Lumira Solana. By the Grace of Her Light.
You pick up the halo and place it on your head.
You’re instantly covered in that same white flame, but there’s no pain, no heat. Only gentle warmth and soft light. You feel your feet leave the ground as overwhelming power floods your veins. Heat builds in the center of your chest, like your very own tiny sun is being born inside of you. A jolt runs down your back, still not quite painful, but intense as the Mark of Solis is branded in gold to your skin, finalizing your link to the Halo.
You’re slowly lowered back to the ground, but you’re no longer wearing what you were before. Instead, you’re draped in gilded armor and white silk, looking the picture of a Sun Goddess in human form.
Your body feels lighter than air, like gravity no longer has any sort of hold over you. When you move to go back to Clark, it only takes one step to cross the distance. Then you reach for the large wooden beam, and it’s so light, it may as well be hollow. You toss it aside and finish pulling him out of the rest of the rubble.
“Oh Goddess…” Your breath stutters when you see that his entire uniform is soaked in blood from his torso down to his legs. “Clark, stay with me!” He tries to respond, but all he does is cough up more blood. If you don’t do something soon, you’re going to lose him. “Goddess, what do I do?” It doesn’t matter if you have all the power in the universe when you don’t know how to use it.
In a moment of clarity, you remember something Clark said to you once. He said your kisses tasted like sunshine. Without further delay, you cup the sides of his face and slant your mouth over his. Clark grunts as your power surges into him. Pure, unrefined sunlight fills his body, traveling down his veins, filling his lungs, correcting any breaks or injuries it comes across along the way. It’s potent, maybe even more so than the machinery at the Fortress. He groans when a fracture in his femur resets, but his hand reaches up to cup the back of your neck and keep you against him when you try to pull back. His tongue licks into your mouth, seeking your familiar taste, which now has an entirely new spark of flavor layered in with the old. You don’t just taste like sunshine; you taste like every version of the sun. You taste like sunrise. You taste like sunset. You taste like summer skies and autumn mornings. You taste like every memory Clark has of tilting his face up to that golden light in the sky and feeling the way it caresses his skin.
By the time you pull back, you’re both a panting mess, lips swollen, pupils blown. You look over his face, noticing the flush to his cheeks. “How do you feel?”
He looks back like he’s awestruck. “I feel like I didn’t know I could love you any more than I already do.”
You huff out a laugh, smiling at your ridiculous boyfriend. “I meant your injuries, Clark. Does anything still hurt?”
He runs a quick mental assessment. “I’m fit as a fiddle,” he assures you. His hand braces against the side of your face, thumb brushing over your cheek. “You’re gorgeous…” His eyes take you in like he’s seeing you for the first time again.
“And you’re a flirt,” you grin teasingly while nuzzling into his palm.
His eyes soften, filled to the brim with tender love and affection. “I never thought I’d need someone else’s protection, but I’m glad it’s you.”
He pulls you back against him, lips seeking another taste of your light. You hum into his mouth but force yourself to pull back. “Slow down there, Romeo. We’ve still got a dome to crack.”
“I know,” he looks at you like he wishes he were just a little more selfish. Like he’d choose kissing you over cleaning up yet another mess started by someone else. But he won’t. He blinks and forces himself to avert his gaze; it’s even more difficult to do now that you’re actually glowing. He looks up to the hole in the museum’s ceiling. “The second wave of infantry is inbound. They’ll be here soon.” He pushes himself up to standing and offers you his hand, which you really don’t need, considering you just saved his life, but you take it all the same and allow him to pull you up. “Ready to kick some behind?” he asks with a toothy grin.
You wave your hands out in front of you, and the discarded twin blades vanish in a flash of golden light, only to reappear in each of your hands. “They’ll learn to fear the sun’s wrath.” Your eyes burn with feral rage, scorning those who dare covet the power of your Goddess. Clark doesn’t think he should find that look so attractive. But he does.
You take to the open air like you were born to fly. You hover hundreds of feet above the museum, and there’s not even a flicker of doubt in your abilities. Clark hovers next to you, the both of you staring up at the dome. “It appears to be made from pure kinetic energy. Everything I hit it with was only absorbed and seemed to reinforce it even more,” Clark explains. “Lex counted on me exhausting my powers by trying to take it down. I flew right into his trap.”
Your gaze drops, noticing the flying legion of soldiers heading your way. “You handle the Raptors. I’ll handle the dome. If it thrives on kinetic energy, then we just need to give it more than it can handle.” You take off like a shot. A golden arrow arcing up to the top of the dome. Your twin blades glow with the energy of the sun as you sink them into the inky blackness and begin channeling pure sunlight into the forcefield.
You hear Clark engaging in battle below you as he single-handedly fights against the horde of soldiers, but you continue to focus on your task, trusting him to have your back. Trusting him to protect you, just as you’ll protect him. You force every drop of liquid sun out of your veins and into your blades, feeding the seemingly insatiable hunger of the dome. It takes everything from you, like a black hole. The one thing that can easily devour a sun. But just when you begin to feel a flicker of doubt, you see a crack. One tiny hairline fracture where your left blade has pierced the darkness. You force even more energy out of you, and the crack grows, fingers of golden light piercing through from the other side.
Clark looks up when he hears your scream. It’s not a scream of pain, but of someone pushing themselves past their limit. You’re going to burn yourself out. A sun just barely formed and already swallowed by the emptiness of the universe. There’s a sudden burst of light, and for one heartbeat, it looks like you have giant golden wings of sunlight sprouting from your back. And then the dome bursts.
A wave of pure energy comes raining down, frying the circuitry of the Raptor suits, and they start dropping like flies. Clark barely pays them any mind because now you’re falling, too. He swoops in and catches your limp form, fearing the worst. You’re unconscious, but still breathing. He sighs in relief, cradling you close as he flies you to the safest place he knows.
"Gary, power up the chair," Clark calls as soon as he's past the Fortress entrance.
"Your vitals are showing no injuries," Gary calls back from deeper within the fortress.
"It's not for me." He steps into the medical wing and lays your body on the medical chair. "Power it up."
"Are you certain this is wise? Concentrated solar radiation is highly toxic to normal humans," the robot questions dubiously.
"She's not normal, she's extraordinary." He runs his fingers down the side of your face, like he can’t bear to stop touching you entirely.
"If you say so..." The robot mutters doubtfully.
The crystals in the ceiling shift, allowing the Antarctic Sun to shine into the room and through a series of magnifying lenses. The concentrated beam of sunlight hits you directly in your chest. Your back arches off the table, eyes flying open as you gasp for breath. You feel like you've just taken a shot of adrenaline at a dose intended for an elephant.
"Okay, that's enough!" Clark orders, helping you sit up as the machine powers down. "You okay?"
You attempt to cough your breathing back into a normal rhythm. "Ugh, I think that gave me heartburn." You press your fingers to your sternum and rub in small circles.
"Sorry," Clark grimaces. "I may have panicked a little. Thought you were going to burn out."
You blink up at him and then notice the illuminated crystals in the wall behind him. "Uh, Clark... Where are we?" you ask, looking around a room you couldn't have even imagined until this moment.
The robot next to him speaks before he gets the chance to respond. "Kal-El, it would appear this human is aware of your alternate identity. Shall I eliminate the threat?"
"Excuse me?" You narrow your eyes defensively at the robot.
"That's not necessary, Gary!" Clark quickly jumps between you two, holding his arms out in a subduing motion. "She's not a threat, she's my girlfriend."
"Ah." The robot backs down. "Analysis indicates multiple translations for girlfriend. Does the use of this term indicate that she is a female acquaintance? Or is this relationship more carnal in nature?"
Clark immediately starts choking on his own saliva.
Your grin widens the redder his face gets. "Yes, Kal-El. What exactly is the nature of our relationship?" You throw your legs over the edge of the medical table and cross one knee over the other while holding your chin in your palm and look at him inquisitively.
"Stop that," he berates you over his shoulder, cheeks still flushed with embarrassment. He then turns back to Gary. "She's my significant other. Please treat her with all the luxuries you would afford me."
"How nice to finally have a guest that does not immediately destroy the place upon arrival." You're pretty sure you sense an undertone of sarcasm in the robot's voice before he turns and walks away.
"He's funny," you giggle at Clark's expense as he turns back to you with a sigh.
"I take it you're feeling better?" he questions, holding a hand out to help you out of the medical chair.
You take his proffered hand and hop down. You expect your legs to quiver under your weight, but you actually feel fine. "Surprisingly, yes. Although I think I saw Solis while I was passed out."
You feel Clark stiffen next to you. "Saw as in, you nearly died and she sent you back or..."
"No," you squeeze his hand in assurance. "She wanted to talk. She told me how proud she was of me for accepting the Halo, and she also..." Your voice drops off as embarrassment floods your veins. You clear your throat and try again. "She also mentioned that she blesses our union."
"Oh..." Clark's eyes widen, and he looks like he doesn't really know how to interpret that information.
"I'm sorry. Is that weird?" You panic at the expression on his face. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable."
"No, it's okay." He quickly steps closer and holds your face in his hands. "She sent you to me, and I'm going to be grateful for that for the rest of my life. I've been doing this on my own for so long, I could never have even imagined that I'd meet my perfect match in you. I love you beyond words. Beyond comprehension, even."
You look up at him, smiling so wide, you’re beaming. "I love you, too, Clark."
He leans close and slants his lips over yours. You sigh against his mouth and wrap your arms around his neck. He kisses you long and slow, like he has all the time in the world to learn this new version of you and how you feel against him.
"I have a question," he pulls back while grinning boyishly. "It's regarding pillow logistics."
Your eyes shine with humor as your head tilts. "Pillow logistics?"
He huffs an amused laugh. "If we were to... hypothetically, sleep in the same bed, how concerned do I need to be about accidentally poking an eye out?" His eyes flicker up to your halo and all its pointed spires. "Like, is this a permanently attached situation, or can you take it off?"
"It's kind of both?" Your eyes briefly flash the color of the sun as the crown on your head fades into gold dust particles that are then absorbed into the tattoo on your back. "The Halo and I are one, but I can seal it within the Mark of Solis." While you're at it, you also seal away your gilded armor, leaving you in just your thin silken tunic.
"You're incredible," Clark looks at you like he can still hardly believe you're real. He leans in close, nose tilting your chin up as he trails feather-like kisses down your neck. His touch is so light, it may as well be the brush of butterfly wings.
"You don't have to be so gentle," you tease.
His response feels a little pre-programmed as he mumbles against your skin. "Don't want to accidentally hurt you."
All at once, you realize he's never been with someone who could fully handle him. He's had to be so careful with every single person he's ever met for nearly his entire life. Honestly, he's even had to be careful with you until just a few hours ago. Even the smallest accident on his part could break human bone. Things people took for granted every day could have deadly consequences when coming from him. People who brushed against his shoulder on the street would feel like they'd hit a brick wall if he didn't twist around them. The drawer full of smartphones with cracked screens, all because he pressed just a little too hard. The entire door frame that had to be replaced in his childhood bedroom after he'd slammed the door too hard in a fit of teenage angst.
"Clark..." There's an edge to your tone, somewhere between temptation and danger, that has him lifting his gaze back to yours. He feels a pulse of energy, and in the next moment, he's flat on his back, pinned with enough force to crack the stone beneath him. He blinks up at your Cheshire cat grin, mind still catching up with the situation. "You don't need to be careful with me."
You see the moment it clicks for him. Surprise gives way to knowing, which then melts into desire. His pupils expand, inky black swallowing steel blue. His tongue slides out and licks over his lower lip. You feel a twitch beneath where you're straddling his hips. He attempts to move his wrists from where you have them pinned above his head, and his breath hitches when he realizes he can't. Not easily, at least.
Your laugh is low and sultry as you rock against the rapidly hardening erection under you. "Does getting pinned to the floor turn you on, Superman?"
His abs clench under his suit. "Only when it's you."
"Perhaps I was mistaken in my comment about destroying the place..."
The two of you turn to the side to see Gary standing there, looking down at the new cracks in the floor. You release Clark's wrists and allow him to sit up while he grins sheepishly at the robot. "Sorry, Gary..." He pulls you both up to standing and starts moving you down one of the hallways. "We'll be more careful!"
The two of you laugh like giddy teenagers and stumble into his bedroom. Clark has you pinned to the wall before the door is fully shut. Now he kisses you like he’ll never get enough of your taste. Like he wants to devour you whole. His tongue slips into your mouth, no longer exploring, but claiming. His hand grips the meat of your thigh where it’s pinned to his hip, his hold tight enough to dent steel, but with you, it will barely leave a bruise.
His other hand reaches for the elastic of your panties, but the fabric dissolves into gold dust under his touch. "That's very handy," his laugh brushes against your lips.
You can't respond because his fingers are now on you, and the ability to form words has left you entirely. He collects your slick on the pads of his fingers and drags them up to your needy clit, rubbing in small circles. Your breath catches in your throat, nails digging into the fabric of his suit where you're clutching his shoulders.
"You're already so wet," he groans, dropping his forehead to yours.
You whine low in the back of your throat, hips grinding into his touch. "This is so much better than I imagined."
His dimples show as his smile widens. "You imagined Superman's hands up your skirt?" he teases.
Your breathing stutters when his fingers press into your clit once more. "No," it's one syllable, yet still manages to sound so wrecked. "I imagined Clark Kent's hands up my skirt," you explain between uneven breaths. "Whenever I thought of Superman, I was usually sitting on his face."
He huffs in amusement, head rocking against yours when he shakes his head. "Well, that can certainly be arranged." His face pulls away from yours at the same time you feel his hand leave your soaked folds and move to grip the outside of your other thigh.
Before you get the chance to comprehend his meaning, Clark is hoisting your body higher up the wall. You yelp, more from surprise than fear, as you're lifted high enough to sit on his shoulders. You pull the hem of your tunic up to your hips, revealing his smug grin, perfectly bracketed between your thighs. "This? Is not what I had in mind!"
His smile only gets bigger. "You comfortable?" he asks, hands shifting slightly to grip the globes of your ass from underneath.
"You're not serious—" your voice turns into a gasp when he dives in and begins to feast on your dripping cunt. "Clark!" Your hands scramble to find something to hold onto, but your options are extremely limited. That’s how you end up with one hand plastered to the wall above your head while the other sinks into his thick, curly hair. “Oh!” Your head thunks back against the stone wall.
He explores your folds with all the enthusiasm of a person trying to lap up the last drops of ice cream at the deepest part of the cone. Your slick coats his tongue, unequivocal evidence that you’re enjoying this just as much as he is. He drags the flat of his tongue up your dripping center and over that tight bundle of nerves. He swirls and flickers over your clit in short, quick movements that have your core tightening. Your thighs are already shaking, and he’s just barely started.
He keeps one hand firmly holding the weight of your ass as the other drifts back to your leaking entrance. While his tongue continues to have its wicked way with your clit, he coats his fingers in your abundant slick and slips one inside of you. Your pussy pulses eagerly around the thick digit, and after a few shallow thrusts, he stuffs you with a second one. He pushes in deep, all the way to the last knuckle, and curls them into your upper wall. Your entire body shudders.
“Oh my—Clark!” His name comes out a broken sob as he pushes into your pleasure center with relentless intensity. His fingers scissor out, working you open enough for him to push in a third. You already feel so full, stretched out around the largest hands you’ve ever seen on a man. His tongue flits over your clit to a beat rivaling hummingbird wings, further proving how no other man on earth will ever be able to compare to him. He’s ruining you in the best way possible.
“Goddess, please!” Your voice breaks down into incomprehensible chanting. It might be a prayer to your deity, or it could just be unintelligible sounds from a mind so clouded with pleasure that higher functioning thought becomes nonexistent.
Clark curls his fingers into your G-spot at the same time he suctions against your clit, and you’re done for. Both of your hands fist into his hair as your back arches off the wall and your hips buck feverishly against his face. His hand flexes over your ass as he keeps you balanced up on his shoulders. He doesn’t stop, even as your shaking thighs squeeze his ears. He hums his satisfaction as you soak his fingers and tongue with your release, the pleasure making you taste sweeter than ambrosia.
“Clark…” you sound completely wrecked, tightening your hold in his hair while trying to force his head back.
He resists at first, leaving one last sloppy kiss over your buzzing clit before pulling back enough to reveal slick-coated cheeks and gluttonous blue eyes.
Your breath is still heavy as you laugh incredulously down at him. “If Clark Kent ever needs to write an article about Superman’s phenomenal head, I will happily give a statement.”
His dimples are back, and they’re even more devastating with your essence painted over them. “Duly noted.” His fingers slip out from between your legs, and your arousal smears against your skin where he grips your leg to carefully slide you back down the wall.
“I need you out of this suit and on the bed,” you urge as soon as you’re touching solid ground again.
A trail of discarded boots, a tangled cape, and wrinkled super suit follows the two of you as you push him back onto the mattress. You flick the silk tunic off your shoulders, but before it falls past your thighs, it’s already vanished into gold dust. The icy air causes your nipples to pebble, but you hardly feel the chill with the sun heating you from the inside out. You crawl over the royal blue duvet and settle over Clark’s lap. His heavy cock rests against the top of his thigh, impossibly thick and leaking at the tip.
“Oh… Solis has indeed blessed every aspect of you, hasn’t she?” Your fingers trace his pulsing veins from base to tip.
He groans from the back of his throat, jaw going slack when your fingertip spreads his precum over the sensitive head. “You don’t need to force yourself to take all of me,” he huffs, your touch is both pure bliss and utter agony. “I know it’s not small.”
Not small might be the understatement of the century, but you just smile as you close your fist around him and start stroking up and down his full length. “Are you underestimating me again, Clark?”
He grunts low, hips stuttering against your touch. “No, never!”
You lift up onto your knees and drag the head of his cock through your wet folds, then use your fingers to smooth your slick down his considerable length. His hands clench into fists against the sheets from the effort it takes to resist rutting up into you. A few more strokes up and down, then you have him notched against your entrance and begin to sink down.
“Oh, fu—Ha…” He was so close to letting that one slip out. You’re just, “So tight!”
You mewl weakly at the way your body stretches to accommodate him. “Clark!”
One hand leaves the blankets and clamps around your hip. “Don’t!” He pleads, but sounds just as wrecked as you do. “Don’t hurt yourself.”
“’M not,” you promise, sinking down another inch. “T’s so good!”
You stop about halfway, needing to catch your breath. Your hips swirl experimentally, and Clark swears his soul is seconds away from leaving his body. His hand flexes against your hip, every muscle in his torso pulled taut with barely contained restraint. “So perfect,” he looks up at you like he’s never seen a more beautiful sight. “So wet. So hot. Squeezing me so good. My very own Sun Beam.”
You drop another inch. “Ngh, Clark!” Your nails rake down the curve of his shoulder, hard enough to leave angry red marks on his normally impervious skin.
He hisses through his teeth, hips jolting up against his will and forcing even more of himself into you. “Shoot! Sorry,” he apologizes immediately. “I’m so sorry! Didn’t mean—"
“Shut up.” You bend down, teeth sinking into his opposite shoulder, right as you make the final push and shove yourself fully down to the hilt. The two of you groan in unison, yours muffled by the meat of his shoulder, while Clark throws his head back. He’s not used to the feeling of pleasure mixing with pain. So few people are even capable of causing him pain, and no one’s ever had him feeling this much euphoria. He’s fully encased inside your walls, every pulse and twitch sending tremors through his cock and straight to that hungry thing deep inside his core. It’s the part of him that he fights against every single day. The part that thrives on greed and pleasure.
“You’re so deep,” you moan after releasing his shoulder from your mouth.
“Believe me, I know,” he huffs back, cock twitching inside of you.
You roll your hips in small circles. “So big, so thick, so full…” You’re practically delirious from how stuffed you are. Stuffed full of cock. Stuffed full of him.
“Jeez Louise…” he rocks against you because he can’t help it, but he forces himself to move slow. Careful.
You’re having none of that.
Your hands settling over his shoulders is the only warning he gets before you start bouncing on his cock. He makes a choked sound, hands flying to your waist as you slam down on him over and over again. This is nothing like the slow, tender lovemaking he’s used to. Clark Kent has never fucked anyone in his life. It’s a risk he was never willing to take. Yet here you are, not only taking him deeper than any of his previous partners, but also ruthlessly pummeling your own pussy on his cock while screaming to the heavens over how good it is.
He feels the flip of the switch inside him. One second, he’s sweet, kind, innocent Clark Kent, and the next… he’s something else.
Within the blink of an eye, the world tilts, and he now has you pinned beneath him, cock still buried impossibly deep inside your body. His eyes flash with something primal when he meets your startled gaze. “Still think you can handle all of me?” He questions, eyes locked on yours to catch every flicker of reaction.
“Yes,” you respond without hesitation. “I do, Clark. Please, I need you!”
The first thrust punches the air from your lungs. The second makes the entire room shake. By the third, your eyes are rolling back while your nails rake lines down either side of his spine. He fucks you like a man who’s been released from lead shackles after a lifetime of holding himself back. The normally careful consideration in his eyes has been replaced with sheer determination and raw desire.
His massive body keeps you pinned down to the mattress, despite his thrusts having enough power to launch you into orbit. Your legs squeeze around his hips, feet crossed over the curve of his ass, pulling him even deeper into you. The wet sounds of raw sex mix with your panting breaths. Both of your skins become slick with sweat. Two bodies that already naturally run hot only stand to generate even more heat when moving at a pace that could break the sound barrier.
The level of pleasure you’ve achieved is higher than you ever thought was possible. Clark is pushing all the right buttons to get you primed and ready for takeoff. He keeps his upper body weight propped up on one arm while the other slides to where you’re both connected. He thumbs over your clit in sure strokes, making your pleasure soar. You’re so overstimulated. From his touch. From his relentless pounding. From the breathy, pleasured grunts that leak out of him like a porno played back on vinyl.
You’ve reached your limit. Too much pleasure. Too much heat. Too much cock. You burst like a sun flare, coming hard enough that you see the entire galaxy behind your eyelids. You call out his name, because it’s the only word you know, as you arch up against him and shudder through your release. You feel a splash of heat deep in your core and know that he’s coming with you. His hips jerk with every jolting spurt as he paints your insides white. He groans against your neck, rutting into you until the overwhelming sensations come to a stop. Even then, he pushes as deep as he can before collapsing onto his forearms.
For a while, all you can hear is rushing blood and your own pounding heart, but then you start to come down enough to hear Clark’s panting breaths. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him out of breath. “Did you mean to do that?” he eventually asks, still pressed heavily against you.
You throw a weak arm over your eyes. “Do what?” you question, just as breathless. “I was kind of in the middle of a mind-blowing orgasm…”
Clark shifts, and all at once, you feel the thick weight of him, still hard, inside you. “Yeah, well, when you were in the middle of that, you also pulsed more solar energy into me…”
You lift your arm off your face and look at him incredulously. Sure enough, all of your scratch and bite marks have vanished from his skin, along with his refractory period, apparently… “Oh Goddess…” You might faint, but then a flicker of movement behind him pulls your focus. “Uh, Clark?”
He turns and looks up to where you’re pointing. “Wowza…”
Shimmering, swirling lights dance along the vaulted ceiling in varying shades of greens and purples.
Clark blinks at the stunning sight, then turns back to you with all the wonder of a child seeing Santa Claus for the first time. “Did I make you come so hard you… Aurora Borealis-ed?”
You stare back at him, at a complete loss. “It would seem so…”
After a short break, entirely for your own benefit rather than his, Clark has you pinned under him once again. This time, you’re on your stomach, hips propped up on a pillow as he thrusts into you from behind. He still snaps forward with enough force to cripple a small nation, but now he’s taking things slow. His hands trace the golden patterns marked into your skin, then he traces them again with his lips, and finally with his tongue. You’re completely pliant beneath him, muscles lax except for the occasional shudder when he hits you extra deep.
When your third orgasm of the evening sends, yet another burst of solar energy through Clark, you have to beg him to let you sleep. He chuckles and kisses your temple before rolling you both onto your sides and bundling you up in his arms. The crystal lights all around the room automatically dim to a faint glow. After all the events of the day, it doesn’t take you long to fall into a deep and dreamless slumber.
You're not even sure what time it is when you're suddenly jolted awake by a loud crash, quickly followed by the entire fortress shuddering around you. The two of you bolt upright, sharing a brief look before scrambling out of bed. Your tunic materializes around your body with a mere thought, while Clark swipes his boxers off the floor and struggles to pull them up his legs as quickly as possible, nearly falling over in his haste.
"That's entirely unfair," he huffs, chasing after your laughter as you dash out of the bedroom.
The two of you hurry down the hall toward the source of the blast. You've just barely stepped into the main room when a blur of red and white comes flying out of the rubble from the broken wall. Your reflexes have you dodging out of the way before you even place the incoming projectile, but poor Clark isn't so lucky.
"Ow! Krypto!" He yells out after getting body slammed into the floor. "Dude! Stop!" He writhes on the ground and uses his forearms to shield his face from what you now realize is a dog. An incredibly animated, aggressively playful, super-powered dog... It jumps on his chest, knocking the wind out of his lungs, and you're not sure if it's trying to lick his face or bite it.
"Hey, I'm gonna leave my dog here again!" You turn back around to find a person now stumbling out of the rubble. "Also, you moved the entrance, again? What the hell?"
"It's always been in the same spot! And we put in a side door where you busted in last time!" Clark cries in exasperation. "Ow!" With one final hop to his stomach, Krypto takes off down the hall, probably in search of something else to destroy. Clark groans in pain, clenching a hand to his abused torso as he sits up. "When are you going to start training that dog?"
Kara blatantly ignores him and scrunches her face in disgust. "Ew, why aren't you wearing more clothes?"
Clark looks down at his bare chest and swipes some errant dog fur off his abs. "It's 6:30 in the morning, I was sleeping," he argues while pushing himself up to standing.
She hums like that barely counts as an answer, then nods her head in your direction. “Who’s the hottie?”
“My girlfriend.” He tilts his head toward her with a be nice expression in his eyes.
“Double ew.” Her eyes flicker up and down your form with an assessing brow raised. “What exactly do you see in my dork of a cousin anyway?” she finally asks you directly.
You pretend to be inspecting your cuticles when you respond in a casual tone, “He’s got a big dick.”
“Good gosh, you did not just say that…” Clark covers his face in mortification.
Meanwhile, Kara is making gagging sounds. “I did not need to know that… but mad respect.” She regains her composure and starts heading back for the hole she created in the wall. “If you let anything happen to my dog, I’ll kill you,” she calls with finality back to her cousin. “See you later, loser!”
As soon as she’s gone, Clark pins you with a disapproving stare.
“What? It got her to leave, didn’t it?” You grin teasingly while stepping past him. “I’m heading back to bed, you coming?” You glance back over your shoulder, your tunic dissolving into gold dust.
Eyes, the color of midday skies, rake over your naked body. “As many times as you’ll let me.”
