an out there request ~ matthew lillard & skeet ulrich
word count: 4740
request?: yes!
âhi hi hiiiiii, i wanted to start this off with saying am in love with you. like your writing? perfection. the fact you do this for all of us? so gorgeous. this one is weird? kinda, maybe. skeet ulrich x matthew lillard x reader, current time. you go to that convention where you talk and meet them, and you got the thing where you can go back and get a picture with them. you ask them (as respectfully as possible lol) if the pose you guys can do is eiffel tower (your head in one of their crotches and your ass in the others crotch). theyâre like shocked and stuff (idk why but i see the reader pulling out their id and being like trust me, iâm of age). banter and them agreeing to it, then when you leave you notice something in your pocket, like a note or something saying one of their room number and smut ensues. thank youâ
description: after she makes a lucrative pose suggestion for a picture, she doesnât expect for that pose to become a reality
pairing: matthew lillard x female!reader x skeet ulrich
warnings: rpf, swearing, smut (threesome, fingering, oral f & m receiving, praise, p in v (protected), multiple orgasms)
AN: When I was doing research into campaign fires, the advice that all always came back time and time again was bring wet wipes. Camps like this don't often have shower facilities due to the erratic nature of the job so you can spend weeks surviving in the wildlands with wet wipes to clean yourself.
Summary: You and Brett finally get the happy ending you deserve.
Companion piece:
The Problem - After a fire decimates Firehouse 83, Brett runs into issues when heâs brought in to cauterise the supposed problem.
Abbey Road - Brett helps you navigate the worse day of your life.
One For The Road - Brett refuses to let you drink alone in the aftermath of your husbandâs infidelity.
Morning Wood - Your morning with Brett is rudely interrupted when your soon to be ex-husband makes an appearance.
Judas Herbs - Brett decides to do something about the herb garden your ex donated.
Secret Santa (NSFW)Â -Â Brett regrets one of his Christmas gifts.
Tinderbox - The fire at your old home sheds light on a bigger problem.
Santa Baby - Brett takes it upon himself to retrieve your ex-husband.
The Three of Us - Brett steps in when your ex-husband tries to force you into a tricky position.
Peaches - At the end of a horrible day, Brett takes it upon himself to look after you.
Making Biscuits - Brett puts his cards on the table after you spend the night at his place.
Harsh Truths - Brett is forced to tell you some harsh truths as your divorce starts to drag out.
The Lake (NSFWish) - Brett doesnât mean to catch you skinny dipping.
The Plot Twist - Your divorce party is supposed to be about new beginnings, not saying goodbye.
One Month - One month after Brett leaves town, your ex husband Jonathon decides to throw a spanner in the works.
Baggage - You and Casey discuss your options when it comes to Baby Johnny.
Nevada - You find out the real reason behind Jonathon leaving the baby in your care.
A Match Made In Heaven - The solution to your Baby Johnny conundrum comes from an unexpected place.
Another Day In Paradise (NSFW) - Brett's dreams are always of you, especially in L.A.
Woodsmoke & Wildness - Your reunion with Brett during the campaign fire doesn't go as planned.
The Writing On The Wall - Brett makes a decision regarding your future.
Prequel to:
Wild Bloom - A near death experiance during a campaign fire puts things in perspective for Brett Richards.
Fire Camp (NSFW) - The worst thing about campaign fires are the sleeping arrangements.
Honey (NSFW)Â -Â Your morning takes an erotic turn when Brett brings a jar of honey into the bedroom.
Mr July - You recognise a familiar face when you accidently come across a vintage version of The Men of CalFire Calendar.
Ms September (NSFW) - Brett comes home to find you touching yourself to his Mr July calendar.
About You (NSFW)Â -Â You always know exactly what Brett needs.
Shibari (NSFW) - You and Brett discover you have the same fantasy after the two of you compare notes.
The Lighthouse - Brett informs you of an important life decision during a lighthouse rescue.
FLAME - Brett falls back on protocol after a nightmare shift.
The worst part about campaign fires is the shower situation, or rather the lack of. By the time you get home itâs been four days of dry shampoo and wet wipes. Your hair is thick with ash, and thereâs a fine layer of grime staining your skin. To make it worse you havenât been able to stop thinking about Brett the entire way down the mountain. That kiss or the fact you told him you were in love with him.
It was too much, you know it was.
Saying something like that, it makes everything too serious, too real.
Thatâs the reason you havenât turned your phone back on since you left fire camp. You arenât ready for the inevitable message from him, telling you that he doesnât feel the same way, that heâs not in that place just yet.
When you pull up outside the cabin, you feel like you can catch your breath again. Itâs always been your sanctuary and right now you plan to shower, then spend the next twelve hours sleeping in the fresh sheets you put on the bed before you headed out for the campaign fire.
You strip off your clothes in the hall, shoving them into a black trash bag to take back to the station for washing and decontamination tomorrow. You pad along the hardwood floor towards the bathroom, turning on the shower before you climb inside. Itâs indescribable how good the hot water feels on your skin. It rains down on you from the heavens, rinsing away the harshness of the past few days as you scrub yourself pink with the citrus scented FLAME bodywash.
You feel like a new woman by the time you pull on the grey, pilled Billy Joel t-shirt and black cycling shorts. You towel dry your hair, brushing the tangles out, letting it fall over your shoulder.
The doorbell rings, stealing your attention. Amazon, you assume with your latest romance book. A treat to yourself after four days in the wildlands.
When you open your door, you donât expect to see Brett standing on the porch. The fading sun catches the silver in his hair as he stands there with your Amazon parcel tucked under his arm.
âIâŠâ You begin but then his mouth is on yours, stealing your breath right out of your lungs.
That kiss, itâs even better than the first because itâs filled with a yearning you feel in the very depths of your soul as his arm wraps around your waist drawing you to him. âIt wasnât just the adrenaline.â He whispers against your lips. âI love you Poppy, Iâm sorry I didnât say it, Iâm sorry IâŠâ
You cut him off with a kiss of your own, your hands tangling in his jacket, bunching the fabric in your fists as you pull him over the threshold with you. The package falls from his underneath his arm, bouncing on the rug as you flail for the door, slamming it shut. His mouth chases along the line of your jaw, the greying bristles on his cheeks scratching the skin with each heated kiss. His breath ghosts in your ear, sending a bolt of heat right to your core as he whispers. âWhere do you want me?â
âBedroom.â You murmur, smiling against his mouth. âUnderneath me so you can get off that bad knee.â
He huffs a warm laugh against your throat as you push the jacket down his shoulders allowing it to fall into a heap at his feet. âIâm not fooling you, am I?â
âOh, certainly not.â You chide, your fingers hooking the bottom of his t-shirt dragging it up his broad chest and pitching it onto the floor.Â
Thirty years in the fire department has left him muscular and toned. Your fingers play over the scars on his chest. The burns along the left side of his ribcage, the indentations on his shoulder. You know every single one of their stories and he knows every single one of yours.
A dusting of greying hair speckles his broad upper body leading to an auburn treasure trail that disappears inside his jeans. He watches, holding his breath as your fingertip follows the pathway until it reaches the waistband. âI want these off and you on the bed.â
âYes maâam.â He smirks, bending over to unfasten the laces of his boots.
Your hand grasps his shoulder, squeezing and he finds himself at head height with your cycle short clad pussy. The fabric clings to your wetness, leaving a clear outline for him to see. He lets out an intentional breath, and it sends a shockwave of pleasure racing through your nerve endings as you run your hand through his steely curls.
âYou ever rode anyoneâs face before?â His voice is a low growl as his calloused palms caress your thighs. The roughness of his skin creates a delicious amount of friction as he raises to his feet, toeing out of his boots.
You shake your head in response to the question. His fingertips explore the hem of the shorts as he looks into your eyes. Thereâs a fire in him right now, one that burns so fucking bright when he looks at you.
âHm.â He drawls out the sound, his hands sliding up to your hips, gripping them. âBut youâve always wanted to?â
âIt may be a fantasy of mine.â You admit as he walks you backwards into the bedroom, stealing greedy kisses from your mouth. Your hands are already on his jeans, unfastening that top button, drawing down the fly until the waistband starts to slip.
âThen letâs make it come true.â He murmurs, stepping out of his denim before sitting down on the edge of the bed as requested. The black boxer briefs cling to his powerful thighs as he parts them, encouraging you to stand between them. His cock is hard, straining at the material, leaving a damp spot on the underwear as you position yourself before him. Those wild hazel eyes of his stare up at you with a devotion that borders on pathological as he wets his lips. âLet me worship this pussy the way it deserves.â
âYou have such a dirty mouth.â You respond as his hands stray up along your waist, taking the shirt with them, revealing more of your skin. His thumbs skate over the underside of your breasts, stroking delicately as you take the t-shirt the rest of the way, pulling it up over your head and tossing it onto the floor.
He drinks in the sight of you. Perfect breasts with rose bud nipples that stand to attention as he kneads them in his palms, they draw out a hitched breath from somewhere deep within his chest.
âOh baby.â He says with that wicked smile of his as his tongue laps along the length of that tattoo on your hip, the one of that minimalist poppy. âYou ainât nothing yet.â
His hands slide back down to your waist, guiding the cycling shorts over the curve of your ass and down your thighs. He helps you out of them before he sighs contently at the sight of your pussy, pink, wet and desperate for his mouth. âThe prettiest damn thing Iâve ever seen. Iâve wanted to get my mouth on it ever since that day at that lake.â
He presses a light kiss to your clit, nothing more than a brief skim of the lips and you pant out an impatient breath. âYou think youâre the only one thatâs wanted that? That I donât touch myself thinking about it?â
âNow whoâs got a dirty mouth.â He teases, his fingertips trailing up along the backs of your thighs, until he cups your ass in his hands, pulling you closer. His tongue flicks over you, a gentle pressure as he doodles a letter over your clit.
âYou territorial fuck.â Your fingers sink into his hair as you let out a ragged laugh. âWas that a B?â
He smirks, his lips shiny with your slick. âAre you gonna let me do the rest of my name? Or do you just want the B?â
âMake it yours.â You urge him and something feral crosses his features before he dives back between your thighs, a man on a mission. The ecstasy courses through you in ebbs and flows. Each gentle sweep of his tongue the sweetest torture.
Youâre soaked by the time he finishes the âsâ on Richards, your skin vibrating with the need for more of his touch.
âNow Iâve had the taste of you Iâll never stop.â His lips chase over your clit as he speaks, his heated breath making your fingers curl into his shoulder. âWill you ride my face for me honey? Drown me in your come?â
Excitement lances through you as he repositions himself on the mattress wedging the pillow under his head. He pats his chest, beckoning you to him. âDonât be shy Poppy, this is one of my fantasies too.â
âYou fantasise about me?â You ask as you straddle his face, your knees coming to rest on either side of the pillow. His stubble grazes your inner thighs, a delightful burn as his breath ghosts over your wetness.
âAll the damn time. I fuck my hand imagining shit like this.â He admits, his mouth sprinkling fiery kisses along your slit. âNow be a good girl for me and hold onto the headboard.â
âThe headboard?â You repeat as he grabs your thighs, pulling you down onto him fully. âWhyâŠoh fuckâŠâ
Thatâs why.
Because he can do magnificent fucking things with that tongue when he has you right where he wants you. His hands grasps your ass encouraging you to move, you grip the headboard and begin to ride his tongue. Â
Fuck⊠this is sexy, youâve never so uninhabited before. Your head tips back, your hair cascading over your shoulders as you give yourself over to the pleasure that resonates through your body. Your hips cant as he hits just the right spot and you grind down even harder against his mouth.
âOhâŠâ You whimpers hit a new pitch as the ecstasy begins to peak. âOh, oh, oh, ohâŠ.â
You climax with an intensity youâve never experienced before him. Your entire body trembling as the orgasm steals the oxygen right out of your lungs. Brettâs hands encompass your thighs once more, directing you to sit back on his chest as you descend from the high. His lips and chin are glossy with your come, an apricot flush warms his freckles as he peppers your thighs with wanton kisses.
âIâve never come like that before you.â You reveal, running a hand through your hair and shaking it out over your shoulders. âOral sex, it was never like that for me.â
Brett tuts, rubbing his stubbled cheek over your inner thigh. âThatâs because you werenât with the right person.â
If thereâs anything youâre certain of right now, itâs the fact that Brett Richards is certainly your person.
Well not quite yours, not yet.
You shift down his chest and his mouth follows, kissing a sensuous route up along your stomach, breasts, collarbone and throat until he finally captures your mouth. His hand tangles in your hair as your mouth claims his, your wet pussy rubbing over his dick through the fabric of his underwear, soaking it. He moans into your mouth, hips arching, thrusting his cock against your clit until youâre gasping all over again.
âIâve never wanted someone the way I want you.â You confess, tasting yourself on his lips, your palm smoothing his unruly curls away from his forehead. âCan I make you mine Brett? Can I fuck you?â
âPlease.â A grunt tears from his throat as your hand delves under the waistband of his underwear, fingers wrapping around his eager cock. âI got tested a few months ago, but I brought condoms just in case-â
Your thumb traces over the slit, smearing pre-cum all over his crown as you tease.
âIâm on birth control.â You tell him, your teeth grazing his lower lip as he lets out a needy whine. âI donât want anything between usâŠâ
âMe neither, I want you bare Poppy, I want....â You shove his underwear down his thighs, his cock springing out, slapping against your pussy. Â His entire body bucks at the direct contact as you coating his entire length with your come.
âPoppyâŠâ He whispers but your name is drowned out by his hoarse cry when you sink down slowly onto his cock. The first inch is euphoric, an inferno bursting to life inside your veins. The rest of him follows, filling you all the way to the hilt. The ecstasy racing through your nerve endings as his dick kisses that sweet spot.
If there was ever any doubt that Brett Richards was made for you, it vanishes in that moment.
âChrist youâre perfect.â He mumbles, his arm looping around your waist, keeping you close as he hauls you both up into a sitting position. He sinks deeper, your breath catching as you feel the hammer of his heart against yours. âIt beats for you Poppy.â He tells you, taking your hand and placing it over the space where it resides. âYou and only you.â
He starts to move. Short, devastating strokes that have your fingertips digging into his shoulders hard enough to leave bruises. The rapture builds, a wildfire stoked by the flames of his passion, licking higher and higher until it reaches itâs peak, until your combusting into thousands stars in the midst of his universe. You come together, his arms wrapped around you, holding you close as he drinks down your pleasure like its the finest whiskey heâs ever tasted.
He tumbles you back onto the mattress, the final rays of the sun filtering through the blinds as you curl up together, his fingers combing through your hair, his lips brushing over your forehead.
âWhen was the last time you slept?â He asks as the light disappears, the two of you shrouded in darkness.
âFour days ago. You know what fire camp is like, crews are always going back and forth, all day and night.â You mumble, burrowing into the shelter of his arms. Exhaustion overcomes you as he uses his foot to secure the comforter before drawing it up over you both. âPlease tell me that youâre staying, that Iâm not going to wake up alone tomorrow because you have to run back off to L.A.â
You feel his smile against your skin as your eyes flutter closed, soothed by the sound of his breathes in the darkness.
âIâll be here.â He promises you, kissing your hair. âFor tonight and however many nights you want me.â
âAll of them.â You respond drowsily, your lips caressing the scar embedded in his left shoulder. âI want all of your nights Brett, and every single one of your days too.â
Love Brett? Donât miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.
Before you join the taglist make sure to read the rules here as you otherwise you wonât be added.
man⊠the suit stays ON and weâre going to DRY HUMP we all know youâre into it, superman! this is basically our version of the jonathan bailey bulge picture âđ»
Blurb: Jack knows exactly how much you can handle-so he gives you just a little more.
WC: 1.7k
Warnings: Smut, Oral (F!receiving), sex toy (used on F), overstim
Request: Yes / No
You met Jack Abbott the night you were rolled into the ERâscared, bleeding, and shaking. He was the one who took care of you. With calm hands, and his voice keeping you grounded while everything else spun.
âStay with me.â heâd said, eyes locked on yours while his palm pressed hard against your side. âLook at me. Youâre going to be okay.âÂ
Itâs been a few months, and youâre still with him. A few follow ups turned into grabbing coffee, which turned into this. Thereâs no label about what it is. You donât ask, and Jackâs not the type to explain himself but youâre in his apartment more than your own, you sleep in his bed, and make breakfast together. So whatever it is, itâs something.
Today you decided to go into the city for a few hours, no plansâjust enjoy your day off.
Youâre standing in the bathroom, in front of the mirror, with your mascara wand in hand. Focused, mouth parted slightly, tilting your chin to get the right angle. You see movement in the reflection and your eyes flick over. He stood with one shoulder against the frame, rolling up his sleeves.
âNearly ready?â He asks,voice low but warm. You pop the mascara closed with a soft click, and set it down on the counter, before you turn to face him fully. Your lips curve into a smile and you nod.
âMhmm, All readyâ You grab your lipgloss and walk towards him.Â
He drives you to the city, one hand loose on the wheel, the other resting on your thigh. The windows are cracked just enough for the breeze and the sun is warm against your skin. When you get out of the car, you loop your arm through his and curl your fingers around his bicep. He doesnât say a word about it, just lets you stay close while you drift in and out of the different stores.Â
Eventually, you get to your favourite cafe. You order your usuals, then settle into one of the booths by the window. Jack slides in next to you, his arm stretching along the back of the seat, fingertips drumming soft against the cushion.
âYou knowâŠâ you murmur, looking up at him âyou look real good today.â
âIs that right?â His lips twitch like heâs fighting a smirk as he sips his coffee.Â
When the mugs are empty, you wander back out onto the main street. Your hands brush as you walk. Once, then again. The third time you take his hand in yours, lacing your fingers with his. His thumb softly traces small circles against your skin, like heâs not even aware of it but you know better. That little gesture says plenty.Â
You walk a little further, till you reach the end of the main street. Then Jack tilts his chin toward the crosswalk. You cross the street and wander into the quiet park.
Jack relaxes onto one of the benches, shaded by the trees. Instead of sitting beside him, you sit on his lap, sideways, like the seat next to him isnât perfectly empty. His hand comes to rest on your thigh immediately.
âYou knowâ His voice is low against your ear, his breath warm against your skin, âyou donât have to do all this to get my attention, right?â Thereâs no serious tone or warning in his words, just soft teasing. You smile, pressing your lips to his jaw, feeling the faint scratch of stubble.
âYeah,â you whisper, you smile against his skin âbut whereâs the fun in that?â He quietly laughs at you, letting you know that heâs noticed your little sweet mannerisms throughout the day.Â
Thatâs the thing about Jack Abbottâhe doesnât rush. He doesnât break when you try to bait him. He just lets you.Â
Lets you touch him.
Get close.
Whisper every thought that comes to mind.Â
And he carries on with his day like none of itâs getting to him.Â
Except you can sense it does. All in the way that his jaw tightens slightly, through the weight of his hand on your leg and how his eyes linger on your lips.
The ride home feels longer than the drive into the city. Maybe because youâre restless now, eager for him to put his hands on you. Youâre practically buzzing by the time you get back to his apartment. You think heâll give it to youâstrip you down, press you into the mattress, and fuck you. But like you learn time and time again Jackâs a patient man.
He watches you as you remove your jewellery and shoes.
âWhat?â you ask. You step closer, hands slipping under his shirt, fingertips grazing the skin of his stomach. His muscles tense under your touch. You look up at him, doe-eyed.
âJackâŠâ You breathe his name out softly.
âYeah?â
âI need you.â
âI know you do.â
He catches your wrists before you can push his shirt any higher, backing you toward the bed. His large hand cups your jaw, tilting your face just how he wants it and leans in to kiss you.
Clothes come off on his terms. He takes his time peeling layers away until youâre both bare. He lays you down on the bed, your head on his pillows. He presses kisses to your stomach, then your hips, and your inner thighs. And then heâs between your legs.
His mouth is slow at firstâwarm lips, soft tongue drawing teasing circles that make your stomach tighten and your breath catch in your throat. You shift beneath him, which makes him rest one heavy hand across your hip to hold you in place.
âStay stillâ he murmurs against your skin, voice low. You try but his mouth is good. His tongue flicks over your clit, then drags lower, dipping inside you just to make you whimper. He works you open until youâre slick. You whine softly when he swipes back up to your clit.
âI know.â he says softly. His eyes flick up to yours as he pushes two fingers in. They curl just right to find the spot that makes your thighs twitch. His mouth stays where you need it
âJack, please-â
âThought you liked teasing?â You were really good at it today.â He continues until your back arches. You moan his name, hands scrambling for somethingâOne ends up on his shoulders, the other in the sheets. He doesnât stop, you try to twist away from the pressure, but his hand stays firm at your hip.
âToo muchâ Your body jerks when he curls his fingers again, mouth closing over your clit with just a little more suction, just enough to make your head spin. Another orgasm builds before the first has even faded. Your eyes roll back, and you gasp his name. He moves his mouth away and focuses on how his fingers are moving which sends you over for that second time.
âYouâre doing so goodâ He removes his fingers, you see him reach for something, then hear it buzz. Youâre not sure when he even grabbed your vibrator but your thoughts stop when the toy presses against you. Your hips jolt off the mattress. Jack watches you like he canât adore anything more. His free hand strokes your thigh keeping you grounded. Tears prick the corners of your eyes from the intense feeling. You barely get the words out before you whining from a third orgasm.Â
âShh. Youâre okayâ He removes the toy, placing it aside. âYou have one more for me, don't you?â His voice is coaxing. You nod. âGood girl.â The praise sinks into your skin. His fingers curl around your knee to part your legs wider. His other hand comes to his cock, stroking himself slowly as he looks at you. He leans over you, his cock dragging against your slick, swollen pussyâbut he doesnât push in yet. Just lets you feel the weight of him. You were wet enough to drip down your thighs, your whole body begged for him without a word.
âLook at me.â You blink up at him, eyes glassy, lashes wet from the corners where your last orgasm pushed tears up. The head of his cock nudges inside you, just an inch, just enough to make you feel the stretch. You swear you can feel the shape of him, Itâs too much and perfect at the same time. He doesnât rush, just rocks his hips forward until heâs seated all the way inside.
His hand slides under your back, keeping you close. He stays there for a second, buried deep, like heâs giving you time to feel every inch of him.
âThis is what you needed, huh?â He starts to move, hips pulling back just enough to thrust slow and deep. He sets the paceâsteady, heavy strokes that push the air from your lungs. Thereâs no rush in the way he fucks you, but thereâs no mercy either. Your nails scrape gently at his shoulders, fingertips dragging over freckles youâve traced a hundred times before. Your body trembles under him, still too sensitive from everything heâs already given youâbut desperate for more. You try to close your legs, instinctively, but with him between them you and up loosely wrapping them around his hips.Â
His hand moves from under you to cradle the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair. He leans down to kiss you. Every drag of his cock pushes against the spot that makes your stomach coil tight again. You try to hold back but every move is perfect.
âAttagirlâ Jack murmurs, his voice barely a breath. You clamp around him, a constant pulsing, and he groans against your skin. His thrusts get heavier as he chases his own, the rhythm breaking, his breath hotter, and rougher in your ear. He presses his forehead to yours as his cock jerks inside you, his hips grinding down one last time. You feel the heat of him filling you, thick pulses that drag another soft moan from your lips.
âBreatheâ he whispers, lips at your temple. âIâve got you.â He gently runs his fingers through your hair. He rolls you both on your side, keeping you close. âToo much?â His voice is quieter now, roughened at the edges but gentle. You shake your head, eyes still glassy, a soft breath leaving your lips.Â
âNo. Iâm okay.â
âYeah?â He smiles into your hair, lips curving against your temple. âDid real good for me, sweetheart.â The praise makes you melt further into him, wrapped in his strong arms, certain this is how it's meant to be.
Superman attends a gala where he's being honoured and steals some time from a very hard-to-get Congresswoman â you.
cw: 18+, smut, congresswoman!reader, implied vigilante!reader, indecent exposure/inappropriate public touching, f!receiving oral, banter, sexual tension, clark fingers you under the table (2k wc)
"Is this seat taken?"
You peer up mid-sip, seeing a flash of blue pass your eyeline as the bigger figure seated itself without waiting for a response.
"It's good to see you again, Congresswoman â "
A shiver runs down your spine when he says your name in that same gravitas you'd pavloved yourself into stiffening up immediately at.
You throw back the rest of the liquid in the flute, the base of the empty glass clattering onto the velvety maroon fabrics. Shaking your head at the slight burn in your throat.
"Superman."
You hadn't looked up. You didn't need to.
Clark twists the place card of the senator who was supposed to be sitting next to you, tossing it behind his shoulders.
"I don't think you're supposed to do that." You say pointedly, leaning back into your seat, arms defensively folded.
"And I don't think endangering innocent lives while parading around as a vigilante is justified, but here we are."
A loud cough rips through you â slamming your fists into your chest to compose your breathing. You whipped your head around to see if there was an audience. Then, and only then, do you finally look at Clark.
You aren't able to get a single word out just looking at the sheer visuals of him. He was in a suit. Dark Navy, fitted to him like a glove, with hair slicked back with that signature curl falling effortlessly to his forehead.
Good god.
"PerhapsâŠit's not the smartest to be discussing this here." You manage while clearing your throat.
Clark's smile only grows at your insistent tone. He lowers his head, hands folded onto his lap as he gets to your eye level.
You zero in on the way his suit jacket tenses around his biceps. And you gulp.
"When else would you suggest then? It hasn't exactly been easy to borrow your time." His voice drops lower, tilting his head so that you would feel his condescending whisper right next to your ears.
"PlusâŠthe last time I was dealt with a stubborn politician, I had to take on a more⊠hands-on approach."
Your shoulders tense when he reminds you of what he'd done to Ghurkos indirectly. A frown settles on your features.
"Are youâŠ.threatening me?"
"What? Gosh â no. I would never do that."
You exhale in relief.
"I'd probably just fly you somewhere private so we could talk."
You stare at him deadpan. "âŠLook. Like I've told you before. I'm just doing my job. Just as you are. I can't be held responsible for your mood swings when things don't go your way."
"I'm not talking about Jarhanpur." He retorts. Clipped. "I had that handled. I'm referring to your little stunt at the Embassy when you intentionally planted an explosive just so you could extract information from the Ambassador's office while I was busy evacuating everyone."
"Oookay so we're doing this here." Your head lolls to the side. You were refusing to give him the light of day.
Clark sighs. His hand hooks around the base of your chair, dragging you closer until your legs are flush next to his.
You let out a yelp. Steadying your palm on his thigh for stability.
"You're goddamn right we are. I'm tired of this back and forth with you. You cannot do whatever you wish, only to put lives atâŠ.at risk. Innocent lives."
Though you notice a crack in his 'stoic' demeanour at your touch.
You raise your brows.
"What I didâŠ" you begin, manicured nails sliding up the expanse of his meaty thighs, grazing over the inter seams. " â helped to expose some very corrupt men."
Clark is entirely aware of what you were pulling, breath hitching at the seemingly innocent touch being anything but. His expression softens, nervously flicking down to where your hands rested.
"âŠThere'sâŠways to go around doing it. One that doesn't â"
Your hands glide higher up his thigh.
" â doesn'tâŠput people in danger." He finishes hastily â tugging your wrist off him to gently place back into your lap.
Clark stops a nearby server. He grabbed a flute of champagne to take a swig for relief of his very dry throat. He could've only wished for the alcohol to be able to soothe his nerves.
But alas. Gosh-darned super-metabolism.
You were eyeing him intensely. Fixated on the way the tips of his ears turned pink. And the way he'd been adjusting himself, visibly affected by you, long after you'd touched him.
It was a weakness you could exploit. You thought.
"What I doâŠis in the best interest of the people."
He looks to you, shaking his head in disagreement. "You â " Clark pauses, feeling your softer hand round his wrist, guiding it onto the navy fabric over your thighs.
" â what are youâŠ"
The mic-static echoes throughout the halls. An eager white male in a suit taking centre stage.
He drones on and on about the benefit they were honouring. But Clark wasn't paying attention, no. His fingers were twitching. Twitching in place as you guided his heavy palms up and beneath your dress.
The hold you had, 'forcing' his wrist on you, was non-existent. (Not that it was to begin with.) Clark's willpower crumbled entirely when you feel him thumb at your knees. Dragging the roughness over your thighs.
You're taking slow sips from Clark's champagne glass. Legs pressed further apart for easier manoeuvring. He seems to catch the hint. Pinky grazing past the top of your mound. Your hips jump a little, and he feels an unwitting smile twitch at his lips.
Clark looks down at your legs, heel tapping restlessly onto the marbled floors. He stops his ministrations. Head dipped next to your face. "A-AreâŠyou sure you want to be doing this here?"
You shudder immediately at the proximity of his voice. Tilting your head enough for your lips to brush past his cheeks. "They're about to mention you."
Clark bites back the desire to inch just a little closer, to press his lips onto yours. But he holds back. Opting to gaze at the pretty pink gloss.
"âŠOkay."
Your lips curl into an 'o' when his digits slide downward. Rubbing at your clit with four fingers. "Shit." Your expression falters. Bringing the glass up to your lips in an effort to control your moans.
Clark's warm fingers venture lower. Dragging the growing slickness from your folds up to your sensitive nerves, rubbing at it in slow circles.
If not for the heavy, velvety fabric covering what was below, this would've very well been the biggest scandal of Metropolis' history. Clark pulls at it high enough just to make sure you were covered. Ignoring his own blatant hard-on that anyone could've seen.
You instinctively clamp around his hand when the emcee acknowledges Superman's presence. The spotlight shines on the two of you at the back of the hall.
Clark offers a smile to the crowd. Raising his free palm.
But you bite back a groan when a thick finger leisurely dips into your folds just barely. Pushing in and out. All while he addresses everyone.
You press a closed fist to your mouth, biting down on your lips.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Clark doesn't stop. Pushing further in until his knuckles bury further into your cunt. He massages around your inner walls, gently, in repeated motions.
Your toes curl into one another, trying desperately not to visibly react. Despite your effort to grab at his wrist discreetly to control the pace, it was futile; you needed more.
The steady dull pleasure was building by the second. You were rocking your hips, inching him deeper every time he probed into your cunt.
Just as you feel closer to orgasm, he pulls out, cruelly.
A strangled gasp leaves you. Which you eloquently cover up with a cough. Your eyes snap to Clark ,who proceeds to stand. The lower half conveniently covered by the height of the table.
He gracefully thanks everyone. But only you catch the way he swipes the slick-coated thumb to his lips before he slips his hand into his pockets.
You clench when he licks his lips while meeting your gaze for a split second.
Clark lets you lead him through the service exit of the auditorium.
"Didn't you say it was best not to do anything reckless here?" He innocently points out in a shit-eating grin. You exhale exasperated, pushing him into a hidden corner of the building.
"We are way past that after you had your fingers buried in my cunt."
Clark's lips twitch at your choice of words, humming as he turns you swiftly to the walls.
"âŠ..Right. So this is the only way I get you to talk?"
Your eyes narrow. Shaking your head as you grab hold of his tie, dragging him down to your height. Despite that, you tiptoed, "if you don't touch me right nowâŠI'll see to it that I spend the rest of my time doing everything you're telling me not to."
Clark shudders at the gentle graze of your lips on the shell of his ear. His head tips toward you, nose nuzzled onto your cheeks, "threatening me. Impressive."
"Right out of Superman's playbook." He huffs out a smile, looking at you with an intent gaze.
"We don't have much timeâŠsoâŠ" Clark presses a gentle kiss onto the apple of your cheeks while you idly twist at his tie. "Tell me what you want." He mumbles, thumbing at your lips.
"IâŠ"
"Mmâhm.." Clark leans in, pressing soft pecks down your collarbone. Loosening you up further with the new jolt of electricity his kisses send down your spine.
"âŠ.Want your mouth on me."
He pauses for a second.
"Yes, ma'am."
Clark looks to you with an easy smile, dropping to his knees before you, locking his gaze with yours. His lips chase wherever they meet, down from your hips to your clothed thighs.
"H-Hurry." You urge. Ruching the fabric of your dress up even before he can. Clark meets you halfway, pushing your dress up, tugging at your panties to rustle you out of it.
"What's the hurry? I'll know if someone comes." He promises, but you're unconvinced. Frowning at him.
"Not that. It â aches." You whisper. Barely restrained.
Clark doesn't need much of a push after that. He shoves your underwear into his suit pocket, guiding your leg to rest over his thigh.
You audibly gasp out when his wet lips latch over your clit, placing a testing suck. "Mmhmâgod. Yes." He hums over the nub, suckling at it until you're curling your fingers through his curls.
Clark suckles his way down to your slick folds, tongue flicking over the hole before it dips into you. Your hips jump, and he holds you in place, prodding at you further. Zigzagging and alternating between the motions.
You're beginning to buck into his face. Chasing the sparks of white flashes when his nose bumps into your clit. Clark's palm curls at the back of your thigh, urging you to roll into him more.
Briefly, you're concerned that he couldn't breathe, but then you remember. A fucked out laughter leaves you at the realisation that he probably could go on for hours. And you clench around his tongue instinctively at the thought.
Clark hums in satisfaction, looking up to you with a slight nod. You're shakily swallowing before your hold on his head tightens.
Slowly, you roll your hips harder into his mouth, chasing the blinding pleasure of his tongue fucking into your cunt, lapping up at your slick. He pulls away, then flattens his tongue, continuing the motion, sucking hard at your clit every couple of seconds.
It isn't long until your thighs begin to twitch. You nudge at his curls, pushing his face back into you until he's nose deep into your cunt.
Your eyes flutter shut at a final jolt, pussy pulsing around his tongue as your orgasm finally washes over you.
You're planting heavily, slumping back into the walls. Clark looks up at you, where he was seated on his knees, tongue catching every drop of your release.
He gets up, a steady hand dragging up your legs and to your hips. Gingerly adjusting the hem of your dress, kissing at the sides of your cheeks.
You blink up at him hazily. Palms flush onto his shoulders.
"Think I can return the favour?"
His lips quirk into a smile, placing a gentle peck onto your own.
