Summary: Donāt let your divorce stop you from having mind-blowing sex with your ex-husbandā¦ just make sure your paths never cross at work.
Classification: Smut +18 | Ex-spouses with ongoing sexual/romantic entanglement, p-in-v penetration, oral elements implied through context, fingering/clitoral stimulation, squirting, creampie, sensory details, bondage, light breath play/choking, dominance/submission dynamics, teasing/edging elements and overstimulation, mild branding/marking kink and complicated power imbalance in a workplace context.
Word count: 5,6k
Divider by me :)
Youād tell anyone you knew never to fuck a cop, never to keep one sitting on speed dial and never to press call the second your plane touched down in his city or show up at his door past midnight like he was some bad habit you could pick back up whenever it suited you, but nobody ever said you absolutely had to practice what you preachedā¦
After all, he had always been the exception to every rule you made for yourself, including the smart ones.
The kitchen was bathed in the warm, amber glow of the ambient lights, the scent of a simmering dinner still lingering in the air, though it had long been forgotten. Your bag lay abandoned by the front door and your clothes were a discarded trail of fabric leading across the linoleum floor to where you now sat pinned against the cold granite of the countertop.
You were completely naked, your skin warm and sensitive. One of your arms was stretched high above your head, wrist locked tight in a pair of heavy steel handcuffs that David had clicked shut around the handle of the upper cabinets. The metal was cold against your skin, a stark contrast to the searing heat of his body holding you in place.
David, still smelling of the city and the grit of his shift in the Harford County Narcotics Task Force, was positioned between your thighs. He had you folded perfectly, just the way he always liked, with one of your legs hiked high, calf resting heavily over his shoulder, while your other leg was hooked firmly around his waist. The position left you completely open, exposed and vulnerable to him.
As he pushed his cock forward and past your entrance, the sensation was overwhelming. You were incredibly tight, walls gripping him with a desperate intensity because despite the distance and complications between you, you hadn't let another man touch you. You were reserved only for him.Ā
You both looked down together, breaths hitching in unison as you watched his thick, rigid cock slide slowly, inch by agonizing inch, into your soaking wet pussy.
The sight of the penetration and the way your flesh stretched and molded around his girth, made you gasp. You looked up at him, eyes hooded and heavy with lust and whispered in a sultry, teasing drawl, "Welcome home."
His gaze snapped to yours, blue eyes darkening with hunger. He reached up, fingers brushing your wrist as he tightened the handcuff just a fraction more, securing you firmly to the cabinetry.Ā
"That's my line," he rasped, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through your chest.
He began to move his hips, the motion slow and tentative, as if he were rediscovering every curve of your interior. You kept your eyes locked on the point of contact, mesmerized by the friction and the wet, slapping sound of your bodies meeting. David, however, couldn't look away from you. His eyes drifted down to the wedding ring that dangled from a delicate chain around your neck, resting right between your breasts, metal shimmering under the warm lights. He was still wearing his own ring, a silent testament to a bond that neither of you had truly managed to break.
As he drove deeper, the pleasure spiked, sending a jolt through your spine that made your head thud softly against the top of the cabinets. You closed your eyes, your breath coming in shallow, ragged hitches as you tried to focus on breathing, though the sensation of him filling you made it nearly impossible.
Davidās large hand came up to grip the leg resting on his shoulder at the thigh, his fingers digging into your soft skin. He leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss to your ankle and the tenderness of the gesture made a pathetic, needy whine escape your throat.
"Being inside you is my home," he murmured against your skin, voice thick with emotion. "I hope you feel that."
You could only nod, head lolling back against the cabinets as he continued to fuck you, pushing all the way in until there was no space left between you. He didn't rush, he savored the tightness, the way you clung to him and the sheer eroticism of the scene.
The warm light reflected off the glistening moisture where your pussy met his girth, the lubrication making every slow slide feel like silk. You were trapped, folded and dominated, yet the intimacy was suffocatingly sweet. Every time he bottomed out, you felt the weight of him, the raw power of his body and the undeniable truth that no matter where you went, this desperate, sensual collision in a quiet kitchen was the only place you ever wanted to be.
The slow, tentative pace eventually changed, evolving into something more urgent and possessive. Davidās free hand left your thigh and slid upward, fingers wrapping firmly around your throat. He didn't squeeze to hurt but the pressure was commanding, tilting your head back and exposing the line of your neck as he crashed his lips against yours. It was a hungry, open-mouthed kiss, your tongues tangling in a desperate dance that mirrored the friction between your legs. You moaned into his mouth, the sound muffled and needy but he didn't slow down to enable it.
He fucked you with a renewed intensity, hips driving forward with a rhythmic force that threatened to slide you right off the granite. Your free hand scrambled across the cold countertop, fingers splaying wide as you gripped the edge to anchor yourself against the power of his thrusts. Every time he bottomed out, the impact sent a shudder through your entire frame, body vibrating from the sheer depth of him.
He was driven by a frantic sort of hunger.Ā
He didn't know when heād see you again because you were a ghost in his life, a beautiful haunting that appeared and disappeared at will. If he was lucky, you might stay until the morning but the probability was high that youād be gone before he even woke up. That desperation fueled him, making every slide of his cock into your soaking pussy feel like he was trying to brand you from the inside out.
As he pulled back slightly, his gaze dropped back down to the ring dangling between your breasts. The metal shimmered against your sweaty skin, colliding softly against your chest with every heave of your breath. Your nipples had peaked, hard and sensitive, reacting to the cool air of the kitchen and the heat of his body. Your breathing accelerated into ragged gasps and the whining in your throat grew louder, echoing the wet, slapping sound of your pelvic bones colliding. Slap. Squish. Slap. The lubrication was excessive now, a thick, slippery slick that coated his shaft and leaked onto the countertop.
"I know, baby. I know what you want," he groaned, his voice a gravelly rasp.
The hand that had been on your neck moved, thumb finding your clit with pinpoint accuracy. He began to circle the swollen nub, applying a firm, rhythmic pressure that made your world tilt. You melted instantly, a violent shudder racking your spine as the dual stimulation of his cock filling you and his thumb teasing your peak pushed you toward the edge.
Suddenly, he withdrew. He slid out of you slowly, the vacuum of your tight walls creating a wet, popping sound as he fully exited. You both watched, breathless, as he held himself just an inch away, tapping the head of his thick, glistening cock against your opening and clit. A string of clear, viscous slick stretched between the two of you, a glistening bridge of arousal that snapped as he pushed back in.
He forced you to look at him, eyes boring into yours with an intensity that felt like it could strip you bare all over again. He captured your lips in another deep, tongue-heavy kiss, this time pulling you flush against him, eliminating every millimeter of space.
"Try not to rip out the cabinet door, will you?" he murmured against your lips, a ghost of a smirk playing on his mouth.
You smiled, a smartass retort forming on your tongue but before you could utter a word, he slammed out and back into you. At the same moment, his fingers reached up to pinch and roll one of your hardened nipples. You let out a deep moan that vibrated in your throat, eyes rolling back as the pleasure became an all-consuming wave. This was the only cure for the day you'd had, the raw, unfiltered dominance of the only man who truly knew your body.
"Nobody else in Baltimore to fuck, huh?" he asked, his voice dropping to a low, teasing rumble as he trailed kisses down your jawline.
Above you, the handcuffs rattled violently against the cabinet, the steel clinking as you strained against the restraint, itching to wrap your arms around him and pull him even deeper. Your free hand reached out, clutching at his shoulder, nails digging into his skin.
"Only one who knows how," you moaned, voice breaking.
The pace accelerated into a blur of heat and friction. The sound of body slapping echoed through the quiet kitchen, a combination of the rhythmic, wet thud of his hips hitting your inner thighs, the squelch of your pussy gripping his cock and the heavy sound of your combined breathing. He was fucking you raw, movements becoming more primal, driving into you with a force that left you breathless and trembling, the wetness between your legs turning into a frothy lather as he continued to claim you.
The friction intensified, the rhythm now changing to frantic. Davidās hips became a blur of motion, driving into you with a relentless force that made the kitchen cabinets groan under the strain. You were locked in a feverish kiss, tongues battling for dominance while your breathing began to falter. The air in your lungs seemed to vanish, replaced by a mounting, electric tension that coiled tight in the pit of your stomach, radiating downward toward the point where you were fused together.
As the orgasm began to crest, David shifted his grip. He reached up, palm curling around the wedding ring dangling against your skin and clutching one of your breasts in a firm, bruising hold. He pressed the metal and your flesh hard into his palm, massaging them closer to your heart. He wanted the imprint of that ring, the symbol of what you once were and what he still claimed you to be, to be branded into your skin by the sheer pressure of his desire.
Your lips parted in a silent plea for release that escaped you. Your foreheads met, skin slick with sweat and together you both looked down. You watched the sight of his thick, glistening cock disappearing completely into your soaking wet folds, the skin of your pussy stretched taut and glistening with a lather of arousal.
"Come on, I know you have it...breathe," he commanded, voice low.
The combination of his voice, the visual of his cock burying itself inside you and the agonizingly perfect friction triggered the collapse. You gasped for air, a sharp, jagged intake of breath that broke into a series of high, needy moans. Your body suddenly shuddered with it, your internal walls clamping down on him in a series of rhythmic, involuntary spasms. Your pussy twitched and pulsed around his cock, gripping him with a desperate tightness that nearly brought him to his knees.
He forcefully kept his hips moving, driving through the waves of your climax, refusing to let you simply drift away. Every time he withdrew almost entirely, the vacuum of your orgasm triggered a release and you began to squirt, jets of clear, hot fluid spraying across his pelvis and the floor with a wet, splashing sound. Squelch. Splash. Slap. The sound of the lubrication and the squirting became a symphony of filth, the air smelling of sex and salt.
"I'll never get tired of seeing you cum," he groaned, voice thick with a primal hunger. āFucking love to see it.ā
The sight of you unraveling, body shaking and leaking all over him, pushed him over the edge.Ā
His cock gave a sudden throb deep inside your walls and with a deep-chested groan, he finally broke. He slammed himself into you one last time, pinning you against the cabinets as he began to cum.
You felt the hot, thick pulses of his seed erupting from him, filling you up in heavy, rhythmic bursts. The sensation was that of a flood of warmth that seemed to reach your very core. Davidās entire body shivered, his muscles locking up as he poured himself into you, his breath coming in ragged, desperate hitches. He leaned forward, resting his forehead against the cabinet beside your head, chest heaving against your breasts once he finally released his grip.
You stayed there for a long moment, suspended in the afterglow, the only sound the heavy, synchronized thumping of your hearts and the dripping of fluids onto the floor. Your hiked-up leg remained there, though it now trembled from the intensity of the release. Your hand moved from his shoulder, sliding up to the nape of his neck, nails running through his hair as you felt the last of his cum fill you to the brim.
As the silence of the kitchen returned, you felt the cold steel of the handcuffs biting into your wrists. You knew there would be angry marks to hide the following morning, bruises that would serve as a map of this encounter but as you felt the heavy, warm weight of him still inside you, you didn't care.Ā
You hoped he stayed branded inside you, a secret, liquid mark of his possession that you would carry with you wherever you disappeared to next.
David couldnāt stop thinking about it almost a month later, which pissed him off more than he cared to admit, because he was sitting in the middle of an active investigation surrounded by cops who expected him to be paying attention, expected him to be chasing leads and to be doing literally anything besides staring through the glow of his computer screen while his chair rocked lazily from side to side beneath him.
The task force had spent days chasing a surname that seemed to exist everywhere and nowhere at the same time, buried beneath dead ends, sealed records, reluctant witnesses and databases that returned absolutely nothing useful and every road they took somehow circled back to the same frustrating conclusion: somebody was protecting somebody else and nobody wanted to talk or cooperate.Ā
They were stuck and all he could clearly think about wasā¦sex.
āAny luck?ā Gordonās voice cut through the room as he abandoned his desk and walked toward the printer.
David blinked and sat forward, forcing himself back into the present. āNo.ā He rubbed a hand over his jaw and shook his head. āIām thinking we should make some calls.ā
Across the room Gordon slapped the side of the printer after it refused to cooperate for the third time. A second later the machine groaned to life. āCalls to who?ā
Davidās gaze drifted away from the desk phone and landed on his personal cellphone instead.Ā
He shrugged. āWeāre wasting time trying to guess.ā His thumb moved the mouse through photographs, names, reports and connections on his screen, trying to find something theyād missed while staring at the same evidence for days. āThere might be someone I could ask.ā
Gordon grabbed the fresh page from the printer and started scanning it. āYour buddy in intelligence?ā He watched as David shook his head. āWouldnāt it go against protocol?ā
David laughed without humor. āFuck protocol. Weāre stuck.ā He leaned back again. āWe want the same thingā¦Itād be a favor I wonāt have to pay back.ā
Gordon considered that for a moment, eyes moving across the growing list of dealers, suppliers, runners and associates cluttering the page in his hand.
Finally he sighed. āMake the call.ā
David nodded and reached for his phone but the movement stopped halfway once Scott walked into the office looking like heād just swallowed something unpleasant.
His shoulders hung lower than usual, while his expression was that of annoyance and resignation. āThe feds are here.ā
The room around them went quiet as he pointed toward the conference room before turning around again, already moving towards it because nobody asked questions or needed to.
David exchanged a look with Gordon before pushing himself off his chair and following the rest of the task force down the hallway.
The conference room was already full by the time they arrived. Half the unit was sitting around the tables or against them while the other half leaned against walls staring forward as several people in suits stood at the front beside the whiteboard that had become a graveyard of photographs, names, timelines and theories.
David walked in last, feet faltering once his eyes locked onto yours and for a second, the entire room disappeared.
You stood at the front beside other federal agents and Andrea Smith herself, head of the Organized Crime Drug Enforcement Task Force, posture straight, expression unreadable and hands folded neatly in front of you like you belonged there.
Like you owned the roomā¦and this wasnāt the first time youād been standing across from him while holding all the cards.
His jaw tightened which you noticed, because nobody in that room knew him the way you did. They didnāt know how quickly irritation settled into the corners of his mouth or the difference between David being angry and David trying very hard not to be.
This wasnāt anger yet but it definitely was disappointment that came from realizing somebody had been sitting on information they probably shouldāve shared a long time ago.
Andrea cleared her throat once everyone settled.
āIt seems our investigation has crossed jurisdictional lines. Iāll be giving the FBI the lead and I expect everyone here to cooperate so we can continue moving this case forward together.ā
Murmurs spread through the room but Andrea ignored them and stepped aside as you stepped forward. For the briefest second your eyes met Davidās again before your attention moved to the rest of the room.
āI want to reassure everyone that weāre not here to take over your case or claim credit for work youāve already done. Weāve simply been assigned to prevent this investigation from moving into areas that exceed your jurisdiction.ā
āAnd those are?ā Scott asked from somewhere behind David.
You didnāt hesitate. āConfidential.ā Several groans answered that but you continued. āWeāre operating as a joint federal task force.ā
You motioned toward the agents beside you. āOrganized crime and drug enforcement, financial crimes and safe streets.ā Your gaze swept across the room already preparing for the reactions. āIām Special Agent in Chargeā¦McDougall.ā
The room went silent. Davidās expression didnāt change but Gordon turned so fast his chair nearly tipped over while a few other heads moved between the two of you, the same sudden realization spreading through the room.
You continued. āIām assigned to the Public Corruption Unit and youāll be answering to me.ā
Eyes continued to drift toward David with varying degrees of subtlety but when half a room of cops tried to be discreet at exactly the same time it stopped being subtle altogether, becoming its own loud, awkward thing that settled over the room. The shift in attention was immediate and impossible to miss. Men who had spent years reading witnesses, suspects, informants and each other were suddenly pretending they werenāt looking directly at him.
David felt every second of it. Still, his eyes never left you.
You let the silence sit for a moment, long enough to make everyone uncomfortable without letting it turn into a spectacle.
āI know this isnāt ideal,ā you said, your voice level and controlled, your attention moving around the room now instead of lingering on him. āNobody likes finding out their case has a ceiling they didnāt know was there. Thatās not a reflection of your work, itās a reflection of how far this thing goes.ā
Your hands remained clasped together in front of you. āWhat youāve built here matters. The names, the patterns, the connections and the dead endsāā You paused. āEspecially the dead endsā¦We need all of it.ā
You reached back and tapped the whiteboard behind you.
āFrom this point forward your chain of command remains intact for everything that stays inside your jurisdiction. The moment something crosses into ours, it comes through me first. Not around me, not after the factā¦but first.ā Your eyes swept across the room again. āIām not asking anyone here to trust usā¦Iām asking you to work with us while you decide whether you do.ā
You took a step back which was the universal signal that the speech was over. āAny questions?ā
David nearly rolled his eyes before the sentence had fully left your mouth because he knew what was coming. In his peripheral vision Scottās hand was already halfway in the air.
You pointed at him. āGo ahead.ā
Scott sat forward slightly. āAny relation toā¦ā His finger pointed toward David and the room somehow became even quieter.
āYes.ā You didnāt hesitate.
If cooperation was going to happen, you knew some things were better handled immediately rather than letting rumors do the work for you. Youād made peace with that possibility years ago when you decided not to change your name.
āHeās my ex-husband.ā
A slow ripple of realization moved through the room. Several heads turned as pairs of eyes dropped to Davidās left hand and to the wedding band he still wore, then to yours which was bare.
The silence thickened again so you cut through it before it could settle. You tilted your head. āDo you also want to know my blood type?ā
Scott blinked with a scoff. āWhat the hell would I wantāā
āYou came up with one stupid question.ā You shrugged. āI was checking to see if you had another.ā
A few snorts escaped around the room. Scott looked offended while Gordon looked like he was trying not to laugh and failing miserably at it.
You didnāt give anyone the opportunity to continue. āWeāll be set up in that room over there.ā You pointed toward an office near the back. āSo you can keep using this space freely.ā
Then you turned toward your own team. āTry not to step all over these gentlemenās workā¦Get to it.ā
The room finally started moving again, chairs scraped, papers shuffled and people stood while conversations started in low voices and the spell broke. At least for everyone except David, because while everyone else was thinking about jurisdiction disputes, federal oversight and whatever fresh headache had just landed on their desks, he was thinking about you.
Specifically how the hell heād let this happen without seeing it coming.
His gaze found yours again and for a second it looked like you might actually walk up to him and speak but then a ringtone sliced through the noise.
You grabbed your phone and answered quickly. āMcdougall.ā A second later your posture straightened. āYes, maāam.ā
You turned away and headed for the hallway, the conversation already pulling your attention elsewhere.
David watched you disappear through the doorway before finally pushing himself upright.
āYou in bed with the feds?ā Scottās voice stopped him halfway across the room.
David turned slowly and could see that the look on his face wasnāt accusatory so much as deeply curious which somehow made it worse. āThatās my wife youāre talking about.ā
The response came automatically, so sharp that it made several nearby heads turn.
Scott raised an eyebrow. āEx-wife by the looks of itā¦Iām wondering how your current wife feels about that statement.ā
āWhat?ā For the first time all afternoon David genuinely looked confused.
Gordon finally walked over and without a word, pointed toward David's wedding band. His jaw tightened as he followed their gazes before looking between them again, but mostly at Scott.Ā
āYou do ask stupid questions.ā David shook his head and walked away before either of them could continue.
A few minutes later you stepped back into the room, phone still in your hand after ending the call. The conversation around you continued uninterrupted as most people had already returned to work, except for your ex-husband who was already moving towards you.
āTalk for a second.ā
There wasnāt even the slightest attempt to make it sound like a question. He didnāt stop or wait to check whether youād agree. He simply kept walking and the assumption that youād follow him was still firmly intact after all these years.
To your mild annoyance, you did.
He reached an empty interrogation room near the end of the hallway and held the door open for you. The second you stepped inside, he followed and shut it behind you both, letting the click of the latch echo in the small room.
You opened your mouth immediately, clearly prepared to smooth things over before the conversation could become an argument but David beat you to it.
āIs this what that night was?ā He asked, the implied accusation as clear as nothing else couldāve been. āMerely getting info out of me?...That was a low blow.ā
The claim landed harder than either of you expected, because David was angry enough to reach for whatever explanation hurt the most and you could see him doing it in real time, trying to force pieces together into a version of events that made sense to him, one where he hadnāt been blindsided in front of his own task force, one where he hadnāt spent the last month remembering you in ways that made him feel like a complete idiot.
You stared at him for a second before a humorless laugh escaped you, the sheer absurdity of it catching you off guard. āIām pretty sure I didnāt get shit out of you because we were too fucking busy having sex.ā
His jaw flexed. āNo,ā he shook his head. āIām sure you made it fit somehow in there.ā
Your eyebrows shot upward. āYeah, definitely. I think it was somewhere between the third and the fourth roundā¦Was it before or after we fucked in the hallway on the way to the shower?ā You asked sarcastically.
He threw his arms to the side. āSure. I donāt fucking knowā¦you always were a great multitasker.ā
You rolled your eyes. āFuck you.ā
His laugh came out sharp and immediate.
āYou did and thatās my fucking problem. You did a month ago and now youāre fucking me again, except this time Iām clothed and at work which makes it way less fun, by the way.ā he shook his head, running a hand over his head in frustration. āI shouldāve known.ā
There was the real problem and it surprisingly wasn't the FBI and the jurisdiction nightmare sitting outside that door. It was you and the fact that youād shown up after all that time and heād simply opened the door without a second thought.
āKnown what?ā
His eyes locked onto yours.
āYou hate Baltimore! You always have, even when we were married. You couldnāt wait to get back to Quantico,ā He motioned towards you. āThat night you showed up at the house and I justā¦I let you in. I didnāt question why you were there, and I shouldāve. Iām a detective, for crying out loudā¦Itās my fucking job.ā
The statement almost made you laugh because it was true, absurdly so. āYou didnāt ālet me inā David, you just never asked for the keys back, which means itās still my house.ā
In all the years since the divorce, through every argument, every period of silence and every failed attempt at pretending you were finished with each other, it had never once occurred to him to ask for those keys back.
āThen why did you ring the doorbell?ā He asked, frustration slipping through the cracks.
You shrugged. āI donāt fucking know. What if you had company?Ā Excuse me for being considerate.ā A dry laugh escaped you. āIām so sorry, thatās always been my greatest flaw.ā
The answer visibly offended him. His face twisted, like youād said something genuinely unreasonable.
āIām not seeing anyone, much less bringing them into our home,ā he pointed.
The words hung between you heavily and neither of you dared correct his words, you simply nodded as something in you gave way and the fight bled out at once, your voice softening before you even fully realized it had.
āI was wrong for that, okay? Itās your spaceā¦and we agreed to keep it that way. I shouldāve just gotten a hotel roomāā
The second the apology appeared, Davidās expression changed enough for you to recognize the discomfort immediately. He hated apologies from you, always had, especially when he didnāt deserve one. He let out a slow breath as he shook his head and stepped closer.Ā
You continued. āI was here for work but I swear it wasnāt about your case. I didnāt even know it was yours when I agreed to it and when I found out, Iāā
His hand came up, settling against your neck and jaw with a familiarity that neither of you thought twice about. His thumb rested near your cheek as his expression softened.
āOkay, thatās enough. Iām sorryāā he said, bringing your face to his in a deep searing kiss.
The apology barely registered past the contact of his mouth on yours, the words dissolving into the space between breath and impact and whatever resistance you still had left in you didnāt even pretend to last because your hand was already catching the front of his shirt, pulling him back in like instinct had taken over where restraint shouldāve been.
The apology actually surprised you more than the kiss did. It always did with him, that sudden shift from bite to something almost careful and honest, as if he didnāt know how to stay angry at you for longer than it took to get close enough to forget why he started it.
āYouāre an asshole,ā you said in between kisses as his lips curled into a smile.
That smile made it slower and linger instead of resolve, muscle memory was doing half the work for him while the rest of him kept dragging the moment out, refusing to let it end cleanly.
āI knowā¦I know, baby,ā he mumbled as he went in for more, tilting your head up for better access. āBut you couldāve called.ā
His mouth pressed back onto yours soon after, he was trying to make a point without words.
You exhaled into it without meaning to, the sound swallowed between you as he moved closer, crowding the space without actually moving you anywhere else, just pinning the moment in place with nothing but presence and the familiar arrogance of someone who knew exactly what he was doing to you and didnāt care.
Years of habit were overriding every sensible thought either of you should have been having and for a few reckless seconds it became dangerously easy to forget where you were, that there were federal agents, detectives and task force members less than fifty feet away.
Only then did reality return and you pushed firmly against his chest to create distance as you stepped back and he didnāt try to stop you, just watched while you couldnāt help but lick your lips subtly.
āI fucking hate you.ā It came out entirely without conviction.
His grin widened as he moved to sit on the edge of the desk nearby and crossed his arms. āYou hate that you donāt.ā He paused. āAnd I donāt like how easily āex-husbandā slipped outā¦so watch your mouth while weāre at it.ā he cautioned playfully.
Your brows lifted while a reluctant smile threatened to appear. āExcuse me? Are we not divorced? I mean, weāre not great at it butāā
āI didnāt say that.ā he shrugged. āI said I donāt like how it sounded.ā
You laughed under your breath. āWell, too bad. I remember you in court when it happenedā¦and I didnāt put a gun to your head to sign those papers.ā You shrugged.
The smile disappeared from his face. āNo, I know.ā His voice was quieter now, not revealing even a fraction of what crossed his mind every time he remembered that courthouse, every signature, document and opportunity he could have stopped it but didnāt. ā...Wouldāve told you to make sure you didnāt miss.ā
The honesty of it caught you off guard. You looked away first. āI have to go.ā
His eyes tracked your movement as you stepped toward the door. āHate to see it.ā
Your hand almost reached the doorknob before you stopped, turning back as professionalism slid back into place. āAnd just in case you were too busy thinking about sex out there while I was talking, Iām your boss nowā¦a helpful indicator being that weāre both dressed and vertical,ā you pointed out, making sure your bedroom tendencies and dynamics didnāt bleed into your jobs.
David nodded once. āYes maāam.ā
You narrowed your eyes as he looked entirely too pleased with himself and your hand finally settled on the doorknob.
āI love youā he waited, seeing as you still werenāt moving. āSay it back.ā
āIām on the clock and your superior...Iāll say it at lunch.ā You pulled the door open, the hallway noise immediately spilled back into the room.
āAs long as I get to slide home tonight.ā He said under his breath as he got up and followed.
You shook your head as you stepped through the doorway, fighting a smile that absolutely did not belong on the face of a Special Agent in Charge.
David let the door close behind him and knew two things with complete certainty.Ā The first was that working under his ex-wife was going to be a disaster and the second was that by the end of this assignment, heād be getting down on one knee againā¦whether it was to sate his primal hunger, sucking the honey right from the source or to propose again, he didnāt know.
A/N: If you enjoyed this story, feel free to explore the archive for more! Liking and reblogging helps others discover my writing and comments always make my day, theyāre a huge encouragement for me to keep creating. Thank you so much for reading!
Shoot! Iā I wasnāt raised there, soā I WASN'T RAISED THERE. Why am I talking louder? Clark, shut up or else I'll fall deeper in love and admiration for you!
y'all have no idea the sheer horny energy coursing through my veins right now. his longer hair is driving me fuckign crazy. seeing him is like seeing my war husband. i'm feral.
"Why does Superman have to be so built? Why is he so large?" "Why does he have to be so huge and imposing? Doesn't that look intimidating?" Um, bitch he's just cuddly and he needs big tits to protect his gentle heart?
ā¦Clark Masterlist - Read on aO3! - Main Masterlistā¦
ā¦summary: all week, clark's been acting strange. he won't go near you, won't look at you, and by friday he's vanished all together. everyone seems to know why but you. but nothing's going to keep you away from him. not for that long.ā¦
ā¦warnings/tags: enemies to lovers, secret identity shenanigans, emotional angst, fluff, sex pollen, sex pollen level smut, a little plot for the porn (male masturbation, manhandling, clark's feral, emotional sex, dry humping, blowjobs and facefucking, dumbification, dirty talk, sensitive reader, finger sucking, clark gets nasty, body worship, crazy overstimulation, sex pollen stamnia, fingering, oral f!recieving, begging, praise kink, monster dick clark, he fucks like a machine, breeding kink), no use of y/n, no descrption of readerā¦
ā¦wc: 10.5kā¦
ā¦author's note: request and voted fic! i got. real horny with itā¦
Clark has been acting strange all week.
He got into work on Monday with a red face, and you didnāt question it. He runs everywhere. Itās a little ridiculous he doesnāt have a red face more.
āWant some water?ā Youād tapped on his desk, and heād let out a sharp breath.
āYeah.ā His voice had been strangely rough, his glasses almost slipping off his nose. āWater- Water would be nice. Thank you.
He hadnāt looked you in the eyes.
Not when you brought the water to his desk, or for the rest of the day. When you got in the next morning, he was already at his desk, but didnāt do more than mumble a good morning. His shoulders had squared and rippled, when youād walked past.
Youād gone to the bathroom, and made sure you didnāt reek of something rancid. Maybe there was a sulfur leak in your apartment and youād just gotten used to it. Maybe youād stepped in dog poop on the train and no oneās told you.
āDo I smell bad?ā Youād asked Jimmy, and heād looked at you like your were crazy.
āI donāt know? I donāt go around smelling people like a- A serial killer-ā
āIām not asking you to smell me like a serial killer.ā Youād hissed, leaning down to block him in his chair. āIām asking you to smell me like a friend, Lois smells me all the time-ā
āThen go ask Lois!ā
āLois is in Gotham, I canāt ask Lois-ā
āThen ask Clark, heāll be happy to smell me-ā
Jimmy had eyed you suspiciously. āIf this is some weird mating dance, Iām not interested-ā
āItās not a mating dance!ā
āIt seems like a mating dance-ā
āItās not-ā Youād shaken your head. āJust stop being a fucking pussy and smell me!ā
Someone had cleared their throat behind you. Jimmyās eyes had widened, fixed right over your shoulder, and youād known who it was before you turned.
You know that low, controlled sound. You know the rush that his attention brings, and the shiver up your spine whenever heās close. You close your eyes tight, breathing through your nose, and turn to Clark with a plastered smile.
āHi, Clark! No one was trying to smell anyone-ā
You cut yourself off when you see him. You almost forget how to speak.
Heās a wreck. Curly hair is plastered to his brow, his white button up is more sweat stains than dry spots, and thereās a vein pushing out of his neck that seems painful. His glasses keep trying to slip off his nose, and heās shifting like even just standing is uncomfortable. Heās pale and red all at once, ruddy in his face and paper white in his fists. The flush deepens near his neck, and returns to his arms right before the cut off of his rolled up sleeves. Heās breathing through his mouth.
His eyes are black, and gleaming.
You scramble away from Jimmy, yanking yourself back from going to press a hand to Clarkās brow.
Clark takes a jagged, stumbling step back.
You look back to Jimmy, and he gives you a tight shake of his head. He doesnāt know what to do either. Youāve never seen Clark with so much as a paper cut, and now it looks like he needs a hospital.
āHey, buddy.ā Jimmy tries, voice soft. Like heās speaking to a feral animal. āYou feeling alright?ā
Clark jerks his head to Jimmy, and his nostrils flare. Like heād almost forgotten Jimmy was there.
Jimmy leans back. And you know he doesnāt mean to. Itās Clark. The softest, sweetest heart you know, shoved into a giantās body.
But like this, Clark doesnāt look like a man. He looks like something thatās crawled out of your darkest wet dream. Like something that should be in the sky, fighting Superman. With the black eyes and sudden, jagged movements, he looks like an animal.
He looks dangerous.
And he doesnāt respond right away. Clark stares at Jimmy, breathing heavily, then squeezes his eyes shut. You and Jimmy exchange another worried look. If heās been corrupted by somethingāin this world, you canāt rule anything outāand he attacks, youāre not sure you can fight him off. Emotionally or physically. Clarkās huge, heād crush Jimmy with one fist and youād be nothing but an annoying fly to be swatted across the room.
But whateverās going on with Clark, he seems to drag it under control. He opens his eyes, and a thin ring of blue is back.
āIām fine.ā He rasps, staring at Jimmy. āJust- Didnāt sleep well. You know.ā
Jimmy blinks. āNo, uh- I donāt-ā
Clark looks at you.
And you could swear the blue flickers, when your eyes meet.
āYou smell good.ā He mutters.
He turns like somethingās dragging him, and walks away. You and Jimmy stand there for about three more minutesāin total baffled silenceābefore Jimmyās mouth falls open.
āWhat the fuck is up with him?ā
Nobody seems to be sure.
On Tuesday, he seems a little better. He eats lunch with you. Wheels his chair next to yours like usual while heās editing, because you always catch typos he misses, and heās a good reporter but not the best writer.
āYou canāt use that word here.ā You tap his laptop screen. He frowns.
āThere are no other words I could use, though-ā
āCorrupt?ā
āBut- Oh.ā He sighs, hitting backspace. āSee? Thatās why youāre the expert.ā
You laugh softly, and Clark gives you his usual small, almost shy smile.
āHowās your piece coming?ā He asks kindlyāalways kindlyāand you groan.
āDogshit.ā
āIām sure itās not that bad-ā
āMy main source backed out.ā You grumble. āLike a little baby bitch. I canāt make this level of accusations again LuthorCorp without a source, itās asking for a defamation lawsuit, and after the last one Perry would kill me-ā
āBut you won the last one.ā Clark frowns, and you give him a pointed look.
āYeah. Because I had a source.ā
āAh. Right.ā He pauses, pushing his glasses slowly up his nose.
You watch the movement as subtly as possible. You love it when he does that. Itās a tiny, adorable quirk that makes you want to rip his hand away and push them up yourself.
āWhat if I said I have a source for you?ā He asks softly, and you perk up.
āReally?ā
āYeah, really.ā He grins. āYou know, Iād think youād have faith in me, I wouldnāt lie about that-ā
āShut up, Iām excited-ā
āI can tell.ā He boops your nose, and you stick your tongue out at him.
He does that all the time. He says you get a bunny nose when youāre excited about something, and then you hit him because nothing about you is bunny like.
Sometimes you say that, and he chuckles.
You have no idea. He mutters under his breath.
And sometimes he hits your nose, and your breath hitches because he touched you.
Today you keep it under control.
Itās Clark that freezes. Coughs and goes red, wheeling his chair an inch back. You frown at him, ready to ask whatās wrong, but he shakes his head like heās already denying you an answer.
āItās- Uh- Superman.ā
You blink. āWhat?ā
āSuperman can be your source.ā He grunts, shifting in his chair. āI can ask him to. For you.ā
āI- You donāt have to.ā
āI want to.ā
āI can find someone else-ā
āNo, I- Iāve got it.ā
He stares at you. You stare back, heart swelling with something sweeter than you usually allow it to feel.
Youāre used to your feelings for Clark. You try not to think about them, especially not in his presence. Thereās no amount of love youād risk your friendship for.
But he makes that rule hard to follow sometimes. When he starts being stupidly perfect.
You smile at him, wide and unrestrained. āThank you.ā
He nodsātight and jerkedāstares for a long, long moment. He shoots to his feet.
āI have to go to the bathroom!ā He announces to the whole bullpen.
Clark sprints away. Jimmy gives you a questioning look, and you shake your head.
He doesnāt come back for an hour. When he does, his face is wholly red again.
Heās back to not looking you in the eyes. Back to looking so sick youāre worried he might be going feral.
And you have no idea what to do.
Lois gets back on Wednesday, and the first thing she says to you is Whatās up with Smallville? Perry corners you at your desk to ask if youāve got any idea whatās Clarkās been up to that might be doing this to him. Steve loudly jokes that everyone should be placing bets on when Clark passes out. Cat keeps trying to bring him teaāa thin guise so she can suggest home remedies to whatever super hangover he hasāand Clark always drinks it with shaking hands.
He listens to all her suggestions without interrupting, but whenever Jimmy suggests Urgent Careāyouāve given up on trying to get him to the ERāClark grunts a sound like no and wonāt hear another word.
Youāre getting really worried. Everyone gets sick, but Clarkās always talking about his very good immune system.
And nobody gets sick like this. Legally, Perry should be making him go home, but no one can get close enough to confirm a fever, and itās somehow not effecting his work performance.
āClark.ā You sit on the edge of his desk, keeping your voice soft. āYou need to go to a doctor.ā
His whole body locks up. His fingers freeze on his keyboard, and he bows his head like heās in prayer.
āClark-ā
āPlease.ā He says, so quiet you almost miss it. āBack up.ā
You blink. āBack up?ā
He nods, and thereās a sting in your heart.
He hasnāt asked anyone else to back up.
But you slide off his desk, and take a single step back. Another, when he doesnāt relax from the first.
You clear your throat, tucking your hands behind your back. Clark lets out a heavy, ragged exhale, and looks up.
He still wonāt fully meet your gaze. His darkened eyes are fixed right over your head, and you try not to let it hurt more than it already does.
āClark.ā Youāve lost a little bit of nerve. You try not to let him hear it. āThe doctor-ā
āI donāt need a doctor.ā He tells the ceiling, and you sigh.
āYouāre sick-ā
āNo. Iām not.ā
āDude, I- I can feel your fever from here.ā The heat, rolling off his body like heās an active star. āAt least just go so they can say youāre not sick.ā
He doesnāt answer. You almost take a step forward, before reeling yourself back. He doesnāt want you too close.
āPlease?ā You say. āIt would make all of us feel better.ā
That makes him look at you. For just a split second, barely a heartbeat, but long enough.
His eyes go wholly back. He wheels his chair backwards, like thereās something toxic coming off of you that heās trying to avoid.
And it hurts. It hurts so much your face burns with shame, and your stomach does a sick clench of pain.
Itās never fun, for the man youāve quietly been in love with for years, to look at you like youāre proximity might kill him.
The only thing that stops you from crying is worry for him.
But thatās not enough to hold back the crack in your voice.
āClark- Please-ā
He shakes his head, jaw clenching. You swallow, and take another step back.
āOh- Okay. Sorry.ā
You turn on your heels. Behind you, Clark rasps your name.
And you look back. You canāt help it.
But all he does is stare at you.
So you walk away.
Clark doesnāt come in on Thursday. Jimmy goes to check on him, but wonāt report back on what he finds. When he gets back to the office, his face is bloodless and eyes wider than an owl.
āIs he-ā
āHeās not sick.ā Jimmy stares at you like youāre a ghost. āHeās- Um- We should- Give him space.ā
You frown. āBut-ā
āLots of space.ā Jimmy mutters under his breath, already walking away. āAnd maybe me some bleach. Freakinā- Gross-ā
Lois comes up next to you, watching Jimmy head into the bathroom. Youāre wringing your hands, lips pressed in a painfully tight line, and Lois grabs your wrists.
āDonāt go visit him.ā
You shoot her a glare. āI wasnāt going to-ā
āYes, you were.ā She raises her brows. āDonāt.ā
āBut-ā
āDonāt.ā
āWhat if he needs something-ā
āI texted his cousin. She knows what to do.ā
āToā¦ā You narrow your eyes, pulling your hands from Loisā grip. āYou know whatās going on with him, donāt you.ā
Lois shrugs. āYeah. Maybe.ā
āLois-ā
āHeās going to be fine.ā She says, giving you a firm look. āDonāt check on him.ā
She walks away without another word.
On Friday, you go to Clarkās apartment.
You donāt go inside. Loisā voice keeps ringing in your head, and while youāre more than willing to disobey her, itās the way sheād said it.
Donāt.
His door is right there.
Loisā voice fills the gaps in city noise. Pointed and direct. Almost hopeless. Like she knew you wouldnāt listen.
Donāt.
You made him soup, because youāre pathetic. Heād left his jacket at work on Wednesday, and youād brought it home to clean up before returning it. Youād had a whole painted daydream made of pastels and watercolor, where youād give Clark his jacket, heād swoon with how romantic that is, and then kiss you.
But like real watercolor, the colors bleed and run. Blur together. Itās too fuzzy a picture to be reality.
You stand at his door. You donāt remember walking inside the building.
Donāt.
But you want to.
Donāt.
He could need someone, what if his cousin was busy, what if heās been waiting for you to check on him-
Donāt.
Loisā voice isnāt louder than your heartbeat. But itās level. And your pulse is erratic in your throat and fingers.
And you keep seeing Clarkās face. Keep thinking of how heād been stiffer than concrete, until youād moved away.
He wouldnāt want to see you right now. Heād made that clear.
You put the soup and jacket on the doorstep, and ring the doorbell.
Before Clark can open it, you walk away.
On Saturday, you hole up in your apartment and work.
Itās aĀ distraction. Anything not to think of Clark. To think of how sick he is, how he might be in pain, how he might need help but not from you. How lately he canāt stand to be in the same room as you, and apparently everyone gets to know whatās going on with him except you-
You groan, tipping your head back against the couch.
This is exactly what youāre trying not to think about.
Itās hard, though. Impossibly hard. If only because you open your email, and see a bunch of messages from Clark. You open Teams, and his messages are pinned at the top. You send Jimmy something, and have to include Clark as a contributor. Lois sends you something, and Clark is CCād.
Heās everywhere. You canāt stop checking your phone for a message, even if Jimmy says heās basically out of commission. Canāt really do anything right now, heād grumbled, making a sour face. Tooā¦ Sick.
Heād said it weird, but everything about this is weird.
Usually youād talk to Clark about that.
You miss him.
Goddamnit.
Apparently, youāre very bad at not thinking about Clark.
You busy yourself. Clean the apartment, do the laundry, waste the day, donāt think about Clark.
He gave you this pencil. Let you borrow thisĀ sweater, that youāve been hoarding like a dragon with gold since. Sent you the cheesecake in the back of your fridge as a birthday present, and it had been horrible but youād kept it anyway.
You lie flat on the floor, and fail not to think about Clark a little more. Maybe you should text him. Just so he knows youāre thinking of him. Or text Lois and ask for his cousinās number, so you can ask her if heās okay. Or let the anxiety fully overpower Loisā voice in your head, and go visit him.
Youāre about to go with that last option, when thereās a bang on your window. You shoot up with wide eyes, expecting a massive bird.
Instead you find Superman, standing in your fire escape. Itās hard to see him, in the shadows of dusk. His head is strangely bowed, his shoulders slumped in a way youāve never seen on TV. Maybe heās just more casual, when heās doing home visits.
But why is he home visiting you.
Usually that would freak you out. This week, itās just another fucking thing.
You open the window slowly, poking your head outside.
āHello?ā
Superman looks up at you, and your mouth goes dry.
He doesnāt look well.
Red and pale face, messed up hair, heaving chest. Clenched fists, sweat-slicken face, blown out eyes with barely a ring of blue-
Like Clark.
Just like Clark.
And itās not just the ragged appearance. Itās something deeper. Itās the way heās staring at you like heāsĀ worried youāre going to attack him. Like heās restraining himself from moving, like youāre a repellant and he wants to fly away.
Or something else.
Without the glasses, thereās something else.
He looks desperate. The shadows on his face look longer. Maybe itās just the sickness overtaking him, but he looks hungry. Desperate and starved. Thereās an openness on his face that wasnāt there before. And heās not looking at you like heās afraid or skittish.
Heās looking at you like heās a predator. Like youāre prey.
āClark?ā
āIām here for your interview-ā
You speak at the same time. Your voice is a breath. SupermanāClark? āpushes out his words like they hurt, and falters in a second.
He stumbles back like heās been hit. You scramble forward to catch him, your body not worried about anything but Clark is going to fall.
Your hand wraps around his wrist. He makes a deep, rumbling sound from his chest. Almost a growl.
His eyes flutter. He moans out your name, trying to tug weakly away.
āClark- Wait-ā
Supermanās body goes slack, and he collapses in your arms.
At one in the morning on Sunday, too much is happening.
You put ClarkāSuperman? āin your bed. Took his temperature and dropped the thermometer in shock.
Heās burning at 150 degrees.
He should be dead. Youāre not even sure how you touched him without burning up.
The thermometer clatters to the ground, and Clark shifts in his sleep. Groans out a garbled, pained noise that sounds like your name.
You swallow, hugging yourself tight. Itās hard not to reach out to him, but you donāt feel like you should. He hadnāt wanted you near him, and youāve already crossed a few lines by putting him in your bed.
Then he moans, ripping the thin sheets off his body.
That time it was definitely your name.
Superman moaned your name.
You back out of the room slowly, with an embarrassing amount of effort. You canāt rip your eyes away from him.
Clark in your bed, calling for you and rolling around like a rutting beast. Whateverās tormenting him isnāt enough to wake him up, but itās enough to drive you out of your mind. You bite the inside of your cheek, and force yourself to close the door. It solves the looking at him problem.
It does nothing for hearing him.
And heās loud. Youāre lucky the apartments have thick walls between units, or youād get a noise complaint. Clark is almost howling from his room, and whenever you give into temptation and go to check on him, heās somehow managed to rip another item of clothing off in his sleep.
It starts with his top. The symbol on his chest gets torn to shreds, revealing a broad, flushed chest. Heās got a small happy trail. Muscles that you want to trace, and boobs that might be bigger than yours.
Your eyes wander to his abdomen. Thereās a happy trail that leads down, down, down, and-
Oh.
Thatāsā¦ Big.
You slam the door closed, and run back to the kitchen. Cold water does nothing against the heat building in your core. You splash it on your face and drink two glasses, but you might as well be downing sea salt. Youāre thirstier than when you started.
The image seems to be burned behind your eyes. Clarkās bulge. Supermanās bulge.
You still havenāt really dealt with that.
Clark is Superman. Superman is Clark. Youāre sure. Youāve spent the last hour on the couch, sketching out timelines and checking your work. The random disappearances in the middle of the day. How youāve never seen him get drunk. The fact that heās built like a Greek god but never works out, and whenever Jimmy asks him for a routine he just says grow up on a farm. Ā
And be a Kryptonian. That would probably also help.
To be sureāyou have to be positive, before Superman wakes up and you start throwing around accusationsāyou cut out a pair of paper glasses and build up all your courage.
When you step into your room, it hits you like a tidal wave. The smell of sex, sweat and cum and something deeper. Clarkās ripped off his tights, and apparently the outside boxers are the only thing heād been using for cover.
You donāt let yourself look. Your traitorous eyes try to, but you refuse to glance past his thick thighs. You wonāt violate him like that. Youāre here for confirmation, and nothing else.
Carefully, you wipe the sticky hair from Clarkās brow. His whole body shudders under your light touch, and he bucks up to chase your fingers when you pull away. A deep whine escapes from his lips, and you swallow.
Dear lord.
Very, very slowly, you put the paper glasses on his nose. He wrinkles it, trying to buck them off, but you plant a hand on his chest.
You donāt mean to. You move before you can think.
Clark relaxes. His body goes slack like putty, save for a single hand flying to your wrist, holding tight.
He could break you. Heās Superman. Youāve watchedāalbeit from afarāhim pick up whole buildings. But his touch on you is light, as if youāre glass. His jaw relaxes. A purr rumbles under your hand, and his thumb starts to trace small circles.
You stare at him, every logical thought in your head evaporating in the heat of the room. The glasses confirmed exactly what you wanted them to.
Clark is Superman,
And somehow, thatās the least important thing thatās happening right now.
His brow is unfurrowed, his mouth hanging open as he pants out your name.
āClark?ā You breathe, and he moans.
This time, he calls your name. His eyes flutter in his sleep, and his hand starts to move. Dragging yours down his chest. Over his pecs, his ribs, to his abdomen and-
You yank away with a squeak, when you realize. Clark whines, immediately seizing up the second you pull away.
He looks like heās in pain. Your touch helped, and heād liked it, and-
No. You canāt. You wonāt. Youāre stronger than that, and heās not in his right mind. Whateverās effecting himāwhateverās strong enough to effect Supermanācanāt be letting him think clearly. It would be one thing if he asked. Another to touch him in his sleep, just because heād moved your hand there. He probably doesnāt even know itās you.
But heād been calling your name. Heās calling your name right now.
The steam of the room is getting to your head. You stumble away, squeezing your eyes shut when Clark keens in pain.
If you werenāt such a masochist, youād put in earbuds to avoid hearing him. But he keeps calling your name.
And youāre not that strong at all.
Clark wakes up at four in the morning. You havenāt even managed to close your eyes.
Youāre so dazed from the everything that you donāt hear him coming. You just realize the moans have stopped, and hear a quiet mumble of your name.
When you turn, Clarkās standing in the door of the living room.
Heās naked.
Fully naked.
And this time, youāre too tired stop your eyes from wandering.
Heās glorious. Itās not just the muscle and size of him, itās all Clark. How his flexing arms are the ones that catch up when you stumble over yourself, and his legs are the ones that bring you coffee in the morning. Those fisted hands hold your hair back when youāre sick and boop your nose. His tense knees bump against yours under almost every table, and his chest keeps you tucked safely away from the world whenever you have a meltdown.
But itās also the muscle and size of him. He looks wound up, so tight youāre worried he may snap. The coat of sweat on his skin is begging to be licked off, and his thick arms could wrap around your neck and you wouldnāt complain.
And his cock.Ā
You donāt know how he manages to walk around with that thing. Itās bigger than the toys youāve seen in shops, bigger than the ones in porn that have to be fake, bigger than the lewdest drawings on the internet. Thick and veiny, hard and standing proud. His balls are heavy, and you kind of want to put them in your mouth. Every inch of him is slicked with cum, and you realize you just licked your lips far too late.
Clark clears his throat. You look up with burning cheeks and wide eyes.
āClark, I- Iām so sorry-ā
āDonāt.ā He mutters, shifting on his feet. You can see his arms jerking wildly. Like heās actively stopping them from moving. āIām the one that should be sorry, I- I shouldnāt have come here.ā
He winces at his own word choice, rubbing a stain ofĀ release on his thigh. Heād been humpingĀ the sheets all night. Youād heard the squeak of the mattress, and-
āI broke your bed.ā He mumbles, not meeting your gaze. āIāll fix it when- This passes.ā
āClark-ā
āStop saying it like that.ā
You blink. Clark takes a deep breath, and looks up at you.
His eyes are shining. You canāt tell if itās with frustration, or sadness, or that something else.
āPlease donāt say my name. Like that, or- At all.ā His throat bobs. āIt makes everything very hard.ā
Your lips twitch, and you glance back to his dick. He sighs.
āYeah. I know. There are only so many words I can use, you know.ā
You laugh softly, despite everything.
Clark grabs the doorframe with a groan. It cracks under his hands, and he wonāt stop staring at you,.
āDonāt laugh either.ā
āI- Iām sorry-ā
āAnd donāt apologize, or- Or look at me-ā
He cuts himself off with a long moan, and you fix your gaze very pointedly on the ceiling.
āCla-ā You cut yourself off. āShould I call you Superman?ā
āNo- That- Thatās weird-ā
āKal-El?ā
āWorse.ā He grunts, and you sigh.
āI need to be able to call you something.ā
āIt would be better if you didnāt talk, actually.ā
That makes you glare at him. He winces, face scrunching in apology.
āNo, not- Not like that-ā
āNot like what-ā
āItās just, when you talk-ā
āItās hard?ā You snap, and you donāt know why youāre so mad all of a sudden. Maybe itās how you havenāt slept in almost two days.
Itās probably that. But also, something needs to break. If Clark just Supermans away after everything, youāre going to kill him.
āPlease donāt sat that word.ā Clark mumbles, and you shake your head.
āNo. Iām going to talk, and youāre going to listen and give me answers.ā
āI- I donāt think thatās a good idea-ā
āYou donāt get to decide whatās a good idea right now, boner-boy.ā
He wrinkles his nose. āThatā¦ Doesnāt seem fair.ā
āMaybe, but you know whatās also not fair?ā You cross your arms over your chest, raising your chin. āIgnoring your best friend for a week, then showing up with a fever and- And magic boner then telling her to shut up!ā
āI didnāt tell you to shut up-ā
āYou said I shouldnāt talk.ā
āI said it would be better if you didnāt talk.ā He mumbles, staring at the floor. āThatās not the same-ā
āShut up.ā
āSorry.ā
The wall cracks further. You wrinkle your nose.
āYou better fix the wall, Kent.ā
āI will. āM sorry-ā
āStop apologizing to me, and just- Just tell me whatās wrong!ā
You take a step forward. Clark shrinks back, but doesnāt move away.
āYouāre not allowed to- To be mad.ā He glances up under his lashes, and lets out another labored sigh. āBe more mad.ā
Ā Thatās notĀ promising, but your worry outweighs your anger. You nod, watching him expectantly. He closes his eyes, like he canāt bear to see your reaction. Ā
āYou know kryptonite?ā
You blink. āOf course I know kryptonite, I donāt live under a rock.ā
āRight. Well,ā he coughs. āThereās, uh- This thing. Called red kryptonite. And it doesā¦ Weird things. To me. And other Kryptonians. Which is just Kara- My cousin- I think youād like her-ā
āClark.ā
āSorry- Sorry.ā He groans. You can trace a bead of sweat down his brow.
āRed kryptonite?ā You prompt, softer than before.
His cock twitches. You try not think about it.
āI got exposed to some.ā He mumbles. āLast weekend. And it never does the same thing twice, but usually itās something likeā¦ Shrinking me. Flipping my personality, or giving me an extra power or curse or- Once it turned me into a fish-ā
āIt what-ā
āI got better.ā He says quickly. āBut itās usually immediate. This wasnāt. I- I even hoped I got lucky. That it wasnāt going to effect me at all. Then I got into the office on Monday, and saw you, andā¦ā
He trails off, words hanging in the air.
Saw you.
You activated the red kryptonite in him.
Thereās a very reasonable guess to what itās doing. You still need to hear him say it, before you do something about it.
āWhat happened when you saw me?ā You breathe, and he gives you a pleading look.
Makes a loose gesture to his erection. You bite back a smile. Heās going to need talking into this.
āClark.ā You say gently, and he groans.
āPlease donāt make me say it.ā
You give him a look, and he turns even redder than before. Stares down at his feet like a scolded child. Itās almost adorable, while also remaining impossibly hot.
āItās veryā¦ Demanding.ā He mumbles. āAbout certain things that I would like to do. And it is very particular about who I need to do it with. But- I canāt ask that of you-ā
āCanāt you?ā
Your question is quiet. You know heāll hear you.
And Clarkās head snaps up, his jaw hanging open. He shakes his head.
āYou- You canāt mean that-ā
āWhy not?ā
You take a small step forward. Clark grabs the other side of the door way, tracking your every movement with that predatory focus.
āIād like to.ā You murmur. He grunts.
āYou donāt have to pity me-ā
āItās not pity.ā
He chuckles dryly. āFeels like it. I know you donāt- Thatās not how you feel-ā
āWho says itās not how I feel?ā
You fix him with a challenging glare, and Clark swallows.
āUhhā¦ Steve?ā
You scoff. āSteveās been trying to ask me out for three years, of course heād tell you that.ā
Clark shakes his head, his whole body trembling.
Youāve stopped a foot away. More than close enough for him to grab you. But he has to make that final step himself.
āI- I could hurt you.ā He says, giving you that puppy look.
You shrug. āI like being hurt a little.ā
His cock jumps. He doubles over, and youāre a little worried heās going to break your whole apartment if he doesnāt move soon.
āClark.ā You whisper, taking a small step forward. āI trust you. And I- I want this. I want you.ā
āNo, you-ā
āDonāt tell me what I feel.ā
He shuts his mouth, still giving you that desperate look. You want to soothe him, but you just hold your ground.
āWill it hurt you?ā You ask. āIf you ignore it?ā
He nods, tight and controlled.
You steel yourself, even as your nerves start to buzz.
Not with fear.
With excitement.
āThen use me.ā You whisper, holding his darkened gaze. āPlease.ā
And Clark snaps.
He kisses you so hard you stumble. Knees buckle as Clarkās fevered lips overtake yours, and your startled squeal only lets him kiss you deeper. Your fingers fly out for something to hold onto, and find only the air.
Clark picks you up like youāre made of feathers, and thereās something steady about there being no ground at all.
If you were in your right mind, youād think something about free fall and having no worry if thereās nowhere for impact. If you can only be caught.
But youāre not in your right mind. Because Clark isnāt kissing you like a kiss.
Heās inhaling you, and itās already lighting you on fire.
Thereās a thick arm wrapped around your waist, the other holding your back. A hand wrapped around your neck, angling him to kiss as deeply asĀ he wants. His tongue presses over yours as he walks himself backwards.
You push back, and he moans. Itās the most beautiful sound youāve ever heard.
Clarkās back hits the wall, his legs sinking slightly as you make out. Nothing in his hold on you falters. If anything, it tightens. Like even with your open mouth moving against each other, thereās no way he can get close enough.
You respond to everything he gives you. Clark squeezes the back of your neck lightly, and you hum happily, smiling into the kiss. He grunts, when you thread your fingers through his hair.
He sinks further down, kisses turning short and desperate. He sucks on your lower lip, nipping softly and hauling you further up his body. Your nails dig into his scalp, and he drops his arm on your waist to grab your ass.
āClark-ā
āSo- Sorry-ā He groans, and you can feel him rolling beneath you, trying to get himself back under control. āYouāre just- So pretty, and- And soft, and-ā
He drops fully to the floor, and you start slightly when he rips his mouth from yours, before burying his face in your neck.
āSmell so good.ā He almostĀ whines. āSo good.ā
You take a deep breath, trying to collect yourself. Youāre the sane one right now. The Clark beneath you is still your Clark, but heās also a man whoās in a fugue state of lust. Not the mild, usually level headed, noble little dork you love.
Clark whines, when you run your nails gently against the back of his neck. Heās almost shaking, kissing and sucking on your neck like he canāt even help himself. You donāt think he can.
It makes sense why he was avoiding you. This wouldāve been quite the HR violation in the copy room.
āItās okay.ā You coo, kissing the side of his head. āYou can take what you need, Clark, I told you I want it-ā
āYou- You canāt-ā
āDonāt tell me what I get to want-ā
āNo, you canāt.ā He detaches himself from your neck, going completely still. His grip on your hips is bruising.
You donāt mind at all.
āIāll hurt you.ā He mutters, and you sigh.
āWe talked about this-ā
āIāll hurt you.ā He squeezes his eyes shut, over pouncing each word, and you stare at him for a moment.
You shift in his lap, trying to peer closer, and he hisses. His fingers dig into your sides, and his head slowly bows against your chest. Licking and kissing softly, as if he canāt physically stand to be that far from you.
And you feel it.
The literal alien cock pressing against your ass. Youād think was a stick if you didnāt know better.
Oh.
Right.
Clark must hear the way your heartbeat picks up, and put it together. He sighs, warm breath tickling over your breasts.
āI need to get you ready.ā
You swallow. āI- Iām pretty-ā You can feel your heartbeat in your cunt, and thereās the familiar tingling ache thatās always a good sign. āI feel pretty ready-ā
Clark grunts. āNot ready enough.ā
āHow do you know-ā
āNose.ā
āNose- Oh.ā You flush. He can smell your arousal. āBut thatās a good thing, right-ā
āNot enough.ā
He seems reduced to short worded grunts. Youāre not faring much better, but thereās also a massive man below you that canāt stop sucking around your tits.
āCan youā¦ Always smell me?ā You manage to ask, and he hums.
Thatās his agreement hum.
Your jaw drops.
āAre you serious-ā
āI canāt help it.ā
āYou- You could wear nose plugs-ā
āNo. Like it too much.ā
Your thighs squeeze, those deep words shooting straight to your cunt, and Clark groans.
āYou- Canāt move-ā
āYou should move-ā
āWonāt hurt you.ā He grunts, like heās making a vow. āJust- Need a second.ā
You let out a slow breath, looking up to the ceiling. The idea comes faster than you want to admit, but youāre desperate.
āYou were better when you woke up.ā You say causally, stroking your fingers through his hair. āLucid.ā
Clark grunts. You smile at the air.
āYou came in bed last night.ā
He stiffens slightly. āWet dream.ā
āAbout who?ā
You feel the ghost of a smile, against your chest. āYouāre veryā¦ Mouthy. Like this.ā
And youāve been told that before. But something about the way Clark says itālike something heās measuring, a note heās jotting down for a pieceāmakes you feel all glowy and stupid inside.
āWow. Mouthy.ā You tease. āNot very polite, Clark.ā
āThere are other words I couldāve used for it.ā He mumbles, and you giggle.
āYeah? Like what?ā
Clark draws slowly back, staring at you with those drunken, dark eyes.
āA brat.ā
A lot of the fight leaves you, very fast. No ones ever looked at you like that. Like youāre something they want to chew on, carefully and deeply. To leave a mark while keeping every part of you both ruined and intact.
And his voice. Lower than youāve ever heard, and hoarse with desire. You were already a lot woman. This just seals your fate.
āI should jerk you off.ā You blurt.
Clark makes a sound like a wounded animal, and drops his brow against yours.
āYou- You canāt just say that-ā
āBut it will help.ā You give him your best, pouty and pleading expression. āYouāll feel better enough to- To get me ready.ā You try to keep your voice level, as if youāre not thrilled just to say the words. āAnd thenā¦ More.ā
Clark doesnāt answer. He just closes his eyes again, breathing heavily through his mouth. You wait, but you start to get a little worried he didnāt hear.
āCan you please look at me-ā
āNo.ā He grinds out, and you frown. Reach up to cup his face.
āClark-ā
āDonāt ask me to move.ā His words are tight. Pushed through his teeth.
You feel his cocks twitch, near your ass.
āClark.ā You make your voice soft. Traced the tensed line of his jaw, the bridge of his nose. He whimpers at the touch, and you smile. āItās okay.ā
āI- I need to get you-ā
āIām going to touch you, okay?ā
His throat bobs, but he nods. Short and tight.
Enough.
You scoot back, and Clark lowers his legs at a painfully slow pace you accommodate you. Your ass drags over his dick, and he hisses, rutting up.
āSorry-ā
āItās okay.ā You say quickly, smiling slightly. āGood preview.ā
He looks at you in befuddled exasperation. Opens his mouth like heās going to snap something else out about you being a brat.
You settle against his knees, and donāt give him a chance.
The sound Clark makes when you wrap your hand around his cock is holy. Deep and guttural, like a man already wrecked. You let him sit in your loose grip for a second, watching his chest heave and eyes flutter.
Heās throbbing under your touch. You can barely hold him with the single hand.
You add a second, and squeeze at the base.
Clark makes another one of those beautiful noises, and grabs your wrist.
āBe- Be careful.ā
You pause. āDoes it not feel-ā
āFeels good.ā He grunts. āToo good. Gonna- Oh, fuck-ā
Your mouth falls open. Clark swore.
You started to stroke his cock, and he swore.
And more. You need more. More of his swears, his sounds, his sweat running down his bare chest and the way heās moaning your name. You need to see him fall apart, because once heās back in controlāonce this massive dildo of a dick is inside youāyouāre not going to be able to focus on such things.
You set a quick pace. Skin slapping and hot, unraveling him quickly.
Clark calls your name, his hands slamming back to grab at the walls. You watch in awe as his fingers sink into the wood, creating a slot for him to hold onto.
āLike- Like that- Shit.ā He tosses his head back, moaning loud and lewd. āYeah, baby, oh- Right there-ā
He cuts himself off, rolling his hips up into your touch. You squeeze him again, switching your hands so one can thumb at the weeping slit on his head. Pre-cum leaks all over your fingers, and your lean further down.
You want to taste him.
When you slide off his legsākeeping your hands workingāClark says your name in a rough, garbled warning.
āWhat- What are you-ā
You wrap your lips around the tip of him, flicking your tongue where your thumb had been. Clark makes a sound youāve never heard from anyone before, his free hand flying to grab your neck.
The grip is tight, but painless. Youāre in no danger of pain.
Thereās something thrilling about how heās gripping you so possessively. Like a life line.
You drop your hand to play with his balls. Clark bucks up into your mouth, bumping against the back of your throat.
āSorry- Fucking Christ-ā
You moan happily around him, drooling lips pushing down further. Your tongue swirls around him, and you suck, bobbing your head up and down. Trying to make him lose control again.
It doesnāt take long. Not when you reach up to his hand on your neck, and push it down.
āAre you-ā
You moan, and Clark gives in.
He fucks your face like itās a toy. Cock slipping in and out from between your lips, your spit staining with his pre-cum. Tears prick at your eyes, but you dig your nails into his thighs, refusing to be pulled off.
āLook- Look at you- Holy- Holy shit-ā
Clark moans your name, and you let your hand drift back his balls. He slams up at the featherlight touch, and the tears start to flow.
āYouāre so good at this sweetheart, so- So good-ā Clark moans, hips thrusting to meet every bob of your head. āYour mouth is so warm, and- And soft-ā
You suckle lightly, the praise going right to your core. Your ass is sticking in the air, grinding up into nothing as he uses you.
And you can feel how close he is. His balls are tightening under your fingers, his cock twitching and pulsing, and-
Clark yanks you off suddenly, with one last cry of your name. Before you can protest or try to go back down, you see why.
Heās cumming.
And heās not stopping.
Thick white ropes spurt from his dick, and you stare, transfixed. Every time you think he must be done, more comes. When the geyser finally stops, thereās not a place it hasnāt hit.
Clark lets out a shaky breath. You look up to him with wide eyes. He stares back, licking his lips.
āIf you-ā
āDo that inside me.ā
You speak at the same time again. Clark blinks, leaning back slightly, and you flush.
āI- I mean- Clark-ā
He starts to drag you forward, and your words turn into a squeak. Your being manhandled right into his lap, your ass still sticking up in the air and your hands just barely bracing you on the ground.
āI heard you.ā He drawls, running a hand over the curve of your ass. āPretty well, actually.ā
His hand drags over your exposed core, and you whimper.
āDonāt- Donāt tease-ā
āTrust me.ā He mutters darkly. āI wonāt.ā
Two thick fingers toy at your clit, and you push yourself higher into the air. He knows exactly how to flick that little button, to drive you insane.
āOh- Oh god-ā
āIf I had time.ā Clark murmurs, almost to himself. āIād keep you here for the rest of the day. Watch the sweetness drip down your legs,ā his fingers trace over your sensitive inner thighs. āLet you make a mess in my lap. Wait ātill youāre begging for it, then touch you,ā one, broad finger rubs around your fluttering hole. āNice and slow, until you feel what Iām dealinā with right now.ā
You moan, gaping at the floor. Clark gets a southern, Kanas drawl when heās horny. It makes you clench around nothing, and he chuckles.
āOh, you like that.ā He presses the tip of his finger in, and you whine. āYeah, I know. Know better than anyone, sweetheart.ā
He pushes his hips slightly, forcing your ass higher into the air. Thereās a rip, and cold air hits your core, making you shiver. His cock, still so hard, bumps against your tummy right as his finger slips into your cunt.
āClaaaark.ā You moan, squeezing tight around him.
Youāre rubbing backwards, trying to take him deeper. He splays one hand on your lower back, keeping you from getting what you want while still letting you chase the false hope.
He crooks his finger slightly, twisting it in a circle. You go limp, wrapping your arms around his thigh and pressing your cheek down for support.
āThatās it.ā He mutters. āJust seeing what you need, itās alright. Shit,ā he lets out a sharp breath, cock twitching against you. āYouāre so wet. I- I gotta-ā
You hear it start to possess him, and you canāt be surprised when he pulls the finger out. Still, you twist to whine at him, maybe try to drag his hand back. Heās strong, but youāre horny, and thatās sure to help you somehow.
Instead, you trip on your own hands and collapse back down at the sight before you.
Clark cleaning your arousal off his fingers, eyes closed and face slack like heās having a fine meal.
You canāt look away from it. Itās the hottest, most lewd thing youāve ever seen. You whimper when he goes back into for more, dragging two fingers between your pussy lips before returning them to his mouth. He does it over, and over, and over again. Sometimes giving a little attention to your clit, like heās milking you for more.
Youāre a flushed, wiggling mess when he finally pulls his fingers away with a pop. His eyes are wholly black, gleaming with lust and fixed on yours.
Thereās nothing left of you but putty, when Clark slowly starts to rub your pussy again. Youāre a smeared, wrecked mess that canāt stop grinding back onto his hand, and he smiles down at you.
Itās predatory, but still soft. Exactly what you expect from him now. Pulling out the hair that got stuck in your mouth, all while slowly fingering your cunt.
āWanted to do that for so long.ā He coos, pushing two fingers deep inside of you. āYouād come into the office and start gettinā wet right next me, I was slobbering like a dog. Thought Iād lose my mind, every single day.ā
His fingers go deeper, bumping against your g-spot. You keen, making an almost unearthly sound from your chest. Clark notices it. Of course he does.
āThere she is.ā He mutters, starting to pump his fingers fast. Pushing against the gummy point over and over, until youāre drooling.
Your head has never been this empty during sex before. But youāve also never been put over Clarkās lap like this. Fingered into oblivion while his dick pushes into your stomach. You start to push upāhe needs attentionābut Clark pushes you back down with a grunt.
āNeed to be inside you.ā He grunts. āNeed you ready.ā
Well. If he needs it.
Itās easy to relax into the feeling. Clark starting to thumb at your clit, rubbing it back and forth like a bop-it toy. Between that and his fingers, Clark is almost pulling pleasure out of you like a machine. It doesnāt take long for you to feel like youāre close. Your face his presses into his bare leg, your pussy fully pried open and well touched. You can feel the familiar tension inside you, about to burst.
āClark- Clark-ā You donāt have the strength to twist, so you scratch at his leg. āI- Iām gonna-ā
āI know.ā He mutters, and fuck, you donāt doubt him. āWhenever youāre ready, sweetheart. Cum on my hand, let me feel it.ā
It only takes a few more moments. Release hits you quickly, and lasts long. Thighs shaking and loud moans escaping your lips as Clark keeps playing with you.
Youāre dazed from the orgasm. Itās the strongest youāve ever felt, and your cunt is still pulsing when Clarkās fingers pull away.
āYouāre ready.ā He mutters, and you agree with a garbled sound.
He laughs, leaning down to kiss the back of your head as you quiver. He pulls you up into his lap, and you can feel his cock sliding between your folds. Both of your are so slick with everything thereās no friction. The tension in Clark tells you heās close to going feral again, but his voice is still sweet.
āJust- Stay like that, beautiful.ā He kisses the side of your head. āAnd if it- If anything starts to feel bad, tell me. Iāll stop.ā
And you believe him. You know just how much this is affecting him, but you also know heās Clark. And there isnāt a force on earth that could make him hurt you like that.
āCan you- Can you please say youāll tell me-ā
āIāll tell you.ā Itās barely more than an exhale.
Clark hears it.
āGood. Good girl.ā He kisses your neck this time, and you whimper. āLet me- Canāt do it here. Not right.ā
Youāre not sure what heās talking about until youāre airborne. Clark tosses you over his shoulder, holding you steady with one arm around your knees, and you blink at the cum and sweat stained floor. You might have to move, after this.
Maybe Clark could let you live with him.
Too fast. And not the thing to worry about right now.
Get fucked stupid, then think about your living situation and relationship status.
Thatās a good plan. The best plan.
There really couldnāt be a better one, you decide. Not when Clark starts to rub your clit again, using the full pressure of his palm.
āKeeping her ready.ā He rumbles, and you hum. Youāre certainly not complaining.
Youāre already close to another orgasm, when he lowers you down onto the bed. Your back hits the mattress, and you immediately reach between your thighs, fondling at your pussy hopelessly. Nothing feels as good as Clarkās hands. He mightāve already ruined you forever.
āDonāt do that.ā
Those very hands catch your wrists. You stumble over your breath, when you look up at Clark.
Heās back into feral caveman mode. Stroking his cock with one hand, the other squeezing yours gently before setting it down at your side.
āI touch you.ā He grunts, and you canāt argue with that.
You lay down, spreading your legs slowly. In offering. Clark makes that guttural sound, his dick somehow looking like itās gotten harder. You swallow. Itās very hard not to touch yourself with a massive, hulking god standing over you and jerking himself off. For Clark, youāre going to try.
Heās been reduced back to deep noises from his chest and moans of your name, but heās not making any attempt to move on you. Heās justā¦ Staring.
Stroking his cock, and watching you. Looking between your wet, gaping pussy and flushed face, beating himself into his fist.
He moans, and doubles over. Pumps so fast his hand becomes a blur, and god youād like him to do that to you later.
His face lands on your inner thigh. Soft stubble grazing the oversensitive area, cold breath pushing against your clit. You grab his hair, back arching off the bed at the taunting pleasure. Clark moans, watching you clench around nothing.
You cry, as his face fully presses into your cunt. Itās right as he finishes himself off, his cum painting the mattress and covering your ankles.
Clark rises back up, and for a second you just stare at each other.
āDidnāt mean to do that.ā He rasps, and your lips twitch.
āI liked it.ā
He chuckles, shaking his head. āOf course you did.ā
Clark falls back over you, kissing you deep and slow. You call tell that the clear-headed affect of the orgasm is lasting for a shorter and shorter time.
And Clark choses to use it, just to kiss you.
He tests the head of his cock up and down your pussy, making sure to push it against your clit before going back down, and starting to slide slowly in. Thereās almost no resistance, and he hums against your lips.
āGoinā slow.ā He mumbles. āWhile I can.ā
You nod. Itās all you can manage.
He feels just as bigāif not biggerāthan he looked. Never has a cock stretched you so greatly, and so well. The fullness is incomparable, and youād be worried you couldnāt take it if your pussy wasnāt greedily swallowing him whole.
āThatās it.ā Clark groans, pushing in every inch so torturously and amazingly slow. Forcing you to feel every single inch. āThereās you go, just- Just take it- Fuuuck-ā
He moans your name, and you kiss him. You want to feel everything he has, vibrating through your chest. Straight into your cunt.
Clark bottoms out, hiding his face in your neck. You blink up at the ceiling, trying to push off more tears. Itās good, unbelievably good, and your body doesnāt know what to do with it.
āTight.ā Clark mumbles against you, and you laugh breathily.
āBig.ā
He looks up at you, and for a second, you only see Clark. Your best friend, looking out of you, always kinder than he needs to be.
āām serious.ā He says, low and rough. Like a secret. āWhen I call you pretty. When I- When I say I want you-ā
You kiss him, and Clark melts into you in a second. You canāt stop your smile.
āI know.ā You breathe, and he nods.
āLove you.ā He pushes in almost an inch deeper, like the words spur him on. āSo much.ā
You blink, and his eyes widen.
āThatās- Um- I donāt think I meant to- You feel really good and my brain is soupy-ā
Kissing to shut him up will only work so many times. You cover his mouth with your hand, every inch of you feeling alive. From his words, his body, every single inch of this glorious man thatās somehow, all yours.
āMy brain is soupy too.ā You whisper, clenching purposefully around his cock.
Clark grunts, rutting forward. You giggle, and he gives you a dangerous look.
āVery soupy. But,ā You beam. āI love you too. And Iām very serious.ā
Clark pauses. Smiles into your hand, eyes shining in the dark. You feel a little like your floating. Youād like to be rocketed right up to heaven.
āMake me dumb.ā You breathe, and Clarkās shoulders square.
Your hand is knocked away in a second. His mouth attacks yours, and the moment he starts to move, an orgasm is ripped from your very core.
You scream, locking up and clenching around him. Clark moans against your lips, grabbing your knees and pushing them up to your chest. Itās a deep angle, and you can feel every inch of him, sliding in and out of your cunt. His balls slap near your ass, and his mouth hangs open as he stares down at him.
Heās fully gone to the red kryptonites effects. Thereās no question, as he bends you in half and starts to fuck you like a doll. But he still doesnāt let his strength slip. You feel completely safe in his hands.
Safe and attended to.
Youāve never fucked a man who makes sure to hit your g-spot so much, and Clarkās barely even lucid right now. But he drills down into it, moaning your name and making those sinful, beautiful sounds.
Itās too much for your poor pussy. Two is a lot of orgasms. Three is yourāusualāmax, and thatās usually with time between. But Clark isnāt letting up. And youāre getting close again.
āCla- Clark-ā You whine out, and he fucking growls. āClark, Iām gonna-ā
He makes a deep noise of understanding, and starts to fuck you harder. You cry out, grabbing uselessly at the sheets as the next release gushes from your pussy, flying up your spine like ecstasy.
Clark finds his own release there. With you clenching tight around him, writhing with overwhelmed pleasure and moaning his name like a hymn as you come. He throws his head back and starts to fuck like an animal, roaring your name.
He grabs your jaw, demanding your eyes on his. His thumb presses on your lower lip.
Cockdrunk and empty headed, you open your mouth and start to suck.
It feels even better than youād thought. At first itās nothing, just painting your walls and sticking so deep inside you, you think it knocks you into another, tiny orgasm. Then itās more, spurting out of your pussy as he keeps fucking into you. An obscene fountain, staining your ass and thighs.
Then itās too much. Youāre not sure you can breathe, but the lights dancing on the edge of your vision only add to the euphoria.
Now, itās everything. Youāre full. So full. You never want to be empty again.
And you donāt think Clark would allow that anyway.
Because heās still fully hard inside of you. And with how heās staring at you, you donāt think thereās a space of sound mind anymore.
Clark just stares at you, still mindlessly sucking on his thumb and growls.
You giggle as he grabs your hips and flips you onto your stomach. Drags your ass back up into the air and pushes himself back in with a thick moan.
Thereās a chance that his cum is transferring some of the sexual stamina onto you. Itās the only possible way you can last this long. Clark fucks into you from behind, kissing up and down your spine as his balls slap against your clit. Your fourth orgasm hits you, and you think you see he stars.
Clark cums again. You donāt know how thereās still possibly space for it, but nature finds a way.
You giggle into the sheets. Clark kisses your shoulder, rutting deeper and deeper into your abused pussy.
He might take your laughter as a challenge. Suddenly youāre being flipped over, and Clarkās impaling you on his dick once more, forcing you to slide down and feel every inch.
Itās a good thing you get giggly when you have good sex.
If he sees it as a challenge, youāre ready to lose, over and over and over again.
On Sunday, Clark fucks you through the afternoon and into the night.
There isnāt a spot in the apartment that doesnāt feel the aftermath. After making you ride him, he clambered over you and held you to his chest, fucking you with just your knees on the bed. After that you ended up on your back, then riding him again, then somehow on the floor. Against the wall. In the doorway, your face pressed against the window, Clark flying and holding you in his lap. By the time the sun was over your head, you were a wordless, dumb mess. Clark had you in a headlock and you were smiling like an idiot, taking his cock over and over again until you think you reshaped each other.
Now, standing in the shower to wash off the everything, you think if you reached down and touched yourself, youād find Clark completely rearranged your guts to his shape. When youād looked at him during the soft, quiet cleanup, his cock had certainly looked like youād molded him to only fit in you.
Itās an oddly romantic thought.
There are lots of those to go around.
Clarkās waiting for you in the living room. Heās been trying to clean, but you donāt think thereās a point.
āI told you Iām going to have to move,ā you joke, and he sighs.
āWell, I- I really tried, but-ā He wrinkles his nose. āI think it got in things. When I- Yeah.ā He groans. āI can see it.ā
āSee it-ā
āX-ray vision.ā
āOh.ā That fun revelation had gotten lost in everything else. Itās going to take some getting used to.
Clark bows his head, almost in shame.
āSorry I didnāt tell you,ā he mutters.
You shake your head. āIt fine-ā
āI wanted to-ā
āClark.ā You place a hand on his chest, smiling softly. āItās okay. Really.ā
He blinks at you, then relaxes.
āReally?ā He asks anyway, and you nod.
āReally.ā You nod to the floor. āI can even start apartment hunting right now.ā
Clark laughs at that, and you beam.
Itās the same. Even after I love yous and the sex marathon, itās still just Clark. And youāre more lucky to have that, than anything else.
āYou could move in with me.ā He suggests quiet and nervous, and your eyes widen.
āI-ā
āIf itās too fast, you donāt have to, I- Geez, I havenāt even taken you out on a date yet, never mind-ā
āClark.ā You raise your voice, forcing him to quiet down. āI was thinking the same thing earlier.ā
He starts slightly. His lips twitch. āYou were?ā
You nod, and he grins like you handed him the sun.
āItās not- Maybe too fast-ā
āMaybe.ā You shrug. āBut I- Iāve loved you for years.ā You look down to your fingers. āAnd we kind of lived together before. For work. And youāre my friend, first, so if you think itās fine-ā
Clark pulls your own trick. He grabs your face, and shuts you up with a deep, long kiss. You smile, rising up to meet him, and itās barely been a day, but itās the most natural thing in the world.
āIām gonna do it right, though.ā Clark says against your lips. āTake you out. Woo you.ā
You laugh. āBring it on.ā
ā¦End note: sex pollen fics are so fun i feel like im getting a secondary highā¦
ā¦If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3ā¦
ā¦Buy me a coffee! (and get early access!)āļøā¦
ā§ļ½„ļ¾:heās an early riser. When you ask him about it, he shrugs and says something about roosters and instincts . Itās not that big a thing. Nothing amazing about Clark is ever that big a thing.
ā§ļ½„ļ¾:not even how heāll wait around for you. Heās up before the sun sometimes, but the day doesnāt start until youāre also awake. He puts on coffee. Cleans a little. Reads the paper in bed while his fingers trail lightly on your arm. Sometimes you roll over to cuddle into him, and he canāt stand the idea of missing the opportunity.
ā§ļ½„ļ¾:once you stir, he gets started on breakfast. Whatever you grumble sleepily into the sheets, itās yours. Thereās time to save a few cats and help a few kids while the toast is on. Maybe a bank if itās eggs. Nothing to keep him for too long, not until youāre completely taken care of.
ā§ļ½„ļ¾:once you shuffle to the bathroom, Clark rushes after you, pressing a quick kiss to your brow and telling you everything is ready. Heās a busy guy. Other things demand Supermanās attention. Put if you grab his wrist and pull him into a deeper kiss, heās never going to fight that either.
ā§ļ½„ļ¾:he makes sure to leave you little notes. Hearts and doodles and have a good day, I love you! Hidden all over the apartment. Thereās a smiley face on your coffee. A reminder about dinner tonight on your bag. You collect them all with a fond laugh, and put them in your box. You like every little, dorky piece of him. Itās all so Clark, and you love him to bits and ends.
ā§ļ½„ļ¾:he stops in to see you when he can spare just a second. If youāre lucky, you can drag him by the collar into a sloppy, quick make out. If youāre extra lucky, you stumble into the bedroom and Clark mumbles about being quick as he pulls off his suit. He city is waking up. It needs him.
ā§ļ½„ļ¾:but you need him too. Need his big hands and attention and sweet kisses as he pounds you into absolute filth. You giggle in his ear, grabbing at his shoulders and giving him every reaction he needs.
ā§ļ½„ļ¾:he thinks itās worth it, when he sees you spent and happy beneath him. Your knees pressed to your chest, tits bouncing as he fucks you as fast as he can. Itās rather fast. Youāre dizzy with it, when heās done.
ā§ļ½„ļ¾:heāll be back again. Mostly for kisses and check ins now, but back all the same. He doesnāt want to miss a second, when he has you to waste the time.
ā¦Clark Masterlist - Main Masterlist - Read on aO3!ā¦
ā¦Author's Note: from this headcanon request. i feel like Raye writing about him like damn where the hell is my husband.ā¦
ā¦Buy me a coffee!āļøā¦
content: yearning, teasing, tension, soft fluff with a hint of spice
heās so obvious itās almost funny.
the way clark looks at you like you hung the stars ā that soft, helpless kind of stare that lingers even when you pretend not to notice.
everyone knows. lois teases him, jimmy rolls his eyes, and you?
you love it. love watching him trip over his own words every time you walk into the room. love hearing that low sigh when you brush your fingers against his tie just to fix it.
āyouāre doing that on purpose,ā he murmurs one day, his voice dropping to that deep, dangerous tone.
ādoing what?ā you ask, batting your lashes, playing innocent while your thumb grazes his collarbone.
he groans softly, shoulders tensing. āyou know what.ā
you lean in close enough for your perfume to hit him, your breath warm against his ear.
āmaybe i do,ā you whisper, and thatās all it takes for him to melt ā a quiet whimper slipping out before he can stop it.
heās such a baby for you. yearning, desperate, always so close to giving in.
ājust one kiss,ā he pleads, lips hovering near yours. ājust one.ā
you tilt your head, smiling.
āmaybe later, clark.ā
and he exhales your name like itās a prayer, a curse, a promise ā eyes full of devotion that could move planets.
needing tony stark in a way that hasnāt been invented yet in this economy is torture. wdym i cant find x reader fics on tumblr because everyone thinks theyāre y/n stark? NOOOO!!!!! THAT IS NOT MY FATHER!!!!!! PLEASE NORMALIZE WRITING FOR TONY!!!!!!!! WHY DO YOU PEOPLE AVOID HIM LIKE THE PLAGUE????!!!!!!
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