sometimes, i feel like clark kent can be a very 'tell me what you want' sort of guy. so…what happens when you don't?
tags: munch!clark. that's all i'm saying. (1k wc)
—
i'm sick of telling you what to do. show me.
he'd hold your gaze a long beat, and you think maybe your request — or the lack of it, had turned him off. or made him insecure even.
but then his hands slide up your thighs, thumbs pushing away the fabric that covered you from completely indecency as he lowered himself to his knees before you. the sight of him there, all broad-shouldered, kneeling between your parted thighs, sends that very specific shiver down your spine. one that you know clark would've certainly picked up on.
for such a big guy, he looked small. hesitant that he's about to lay himself bare to finally show you what he wanted to do. clark's uncertain gaze meets you, past those thick, dark lashes. hands circling the rounded curve of your knees, rubbing along the exposed flesh.
yeah. i can do that.
it's not until he finally speaks up, low and needy that you prop yourself up to your elbows to watch him curiously in time to watch him press a kiss to the inside of your thighs, with a deliberate slowness that makes you jump even when you saw it coming. faint stubble on his chin scrapes against the sensitive skin there, drowning you with the sensations with the drag of his lips — climbing higher and higher the softness. through all this, his eyes would never have left yours. demanding that you watch him, all while his hot breath ghosts at your core.
your fingers instinctively tangle in his hair, softer, darker curls wrapping around your knuckles at the motion. clark lets out a low, shuddering breath at the tantalising tightness, his eyes fluttering shut in the reverence of your touch. you see him, discreetly palming himself, as though it would alleviate the pain of his neglect.
keep them right there.
he encourages. pressing a chaste peck to the inner side of your wrist — the one tangled in his hair, before diving back down to where you needed him the most.
languidly, clark would drag his mouth along the inner side of your thigh, leaving trails of wetness in its wake. you jolt at every scrape of his canines, in no hurry to stop him when his fingers finally hook into the waistband of your underwear, pulling it down with a slowness so agonising that it makes you whine in impatience.
his eyes never leaves yours through it all, even as the fabric pool by your ankles. he helps you lift up, sliding the fabric off you, promptly tossing them somwhere behind him.
a gently, blue-ish hue casts across your body, light that has been fragmented by the delicate stained glass decorations you had propped up. it only served to paint you in a much ethereal light. he takes a moment to admire, before pulling you to the edge of your bed in a decisive tug, where his mouth finally connects to your cunt.
a broken moan reverberates low into your throat. muffled by the constraints of your own palm over it.
the first drag of his tongue is a teasing one. you force your hips to stay still at the stroke of wetness, deliberately slow, with the intention to loosen you up. his appreciative groan to your taste vibrates against your folds, threatening to have you squirm. but the heavy, grounding warmth of his hands over your hips forces you in place. the
his tongue would circle your clit promptly, alternating between it dipping lower into your folds, probing into your hole, and then back up, lapping you like a man starved.
your eyes are half lidded, admiring the light dance off his shoulders, muscles that flexed with exertion whenever he his head bobbed.
fuck — clark, harder.
he has to tell himself to keep control, his fingers digging into the softer flesh of your hips. flexing there once before he presses his face fully into you.
you feel the gentle curve of his nose press against your clit as he fucks his tongue into your warm, tight walls. the wet, thick noises blend into the heated air. his grunts — and your stuttered breathing, it felt like your nerves were lit. just a little more and you would —
there's an immediate loss of sensation when he pulls back enough to peer up at you, lips and chin glistening with your slick.
you okay?
the answer doesn't quite make it out of you, not when you catch him dragging the slick off his lips for a proper taste. teasing pink that traits you on that lop-sided curl he teases you with.
ass…you pulled away on purpose.
a shy laugh leaves him, and he presses your forehead to the plushness of your thighs.
sorry.
his mouth finds you again, tongue tracing an idle, circular pattern around your clit, tasting you with a lack of urgency that was entirely his pleasure. your hips buck into his face right then, and he welcomes the loss of air. steady, bigger palms sliding beneath your ass to pull you flush against his face, relentlessly probing his tongue into your pussy.
the sensation grew far hot, and you attempt to jerk back from him, but his hands grow mean, holding you in place. low, heady grunts that disapprove of your attempt to squirm away. it only fuels him even more, working you on his tongue until you're helplessly humping and grinding against him. you could almost see the stars at the back of your eyes as it turns black.
body turning rigid as you're at the very edge of your release.
the promise of your release encourages him to bring you over the edge. he doubles down, tongue flattened against your clit as he continues the motion to suck your clit around his big mouth.
sharp whimpers spill from you, incoherent pants of nothing in particular echo the quiet room. your body arches off the mattress, thighs quivering through insistent waves of your white-hot release.
clark doesn't stop, not even when he is forced upwards at the tilt of your hips. his tongue works you through each wave, each shuddering gasp, until you're pushing weakly against his shoulders to stop. he only pulls back then, face entirely dried, after having lapped you up with not a drop to waste.
just when you think it's over, you hear the slight crinkle of aluminium from above you, where he's tearing a packet of xxl condoms free with his canines.
