"clark kent is not a perv!"
mdni. accidental creeping, secretly mutual masturbation, post-college clark, he accidentally steals ur panties
part 2
clark kent was a lot of things, perfect gentleman, brilliant writer, perfect roommate, well built, gorgeous, the list could go on. the arrangement wasn't ideal, sharing a living space with a six foot four man who seemed to, despite his best efforts to shrink himself down a bit, always seemed to be in the way. but, when he wasnt taking up half the space in your tiny kitchen, he was helpful, overly handy, mysteriously strong for a man who had claimed to not be into the gym. you'd be lying if you said it wasnt attractive watching him build your table, fix the kitchen sink, put the tv up on the wall. and maybe thats how you got here, after one too many failed dates and one too many days of "helping" clark with handywork, it felt too easy to find yourself with your fingers between your legs and a hand over your mouth, thoughts of nothing but clark in your head.
he wasnt supposed to be home, he was supposed to be getting groceries for the next hour or so. he tells himself it was coincidence that your moans rung out over the sounds of the city while he was in the dairy aisle, it was coincidence that he got home in an astonishing 15 minutes without half the things on the grocery list, and it was definitely coincidence that he sat in his room, rock hard and listening to your muffled moans through the walls. this was disgusting, he felt like he was taking advantage of you, of course, he had thought about you, had thought about having you bent over on his matress but you were his roommate, he could never act on that. he could, however "accidentally" end up with panties from your laundry in his room, he could "accidentally" forget to put on a shirt before coming into the kitchen, and he could certainly "accidentally" use his powers to watch you through the walls of your shared apartment.
the guilt takes a backseat the second he sees you, legs spread, fingers pumping in and out of you at a speed he knows he could beat, the subtle moans falling from you mouth. this is wrong, he only thinks that for a moment before his name falls from your lips, breathless and subtle. he convinces himself you wanted him to hear it. for all his gentle charm, he can't find it in himself to stop watching you, he can't stop himself from leaking through his boxers and he doesnt even realize when he's pumping himself, rutting into his fist, his eyes trained on that shared wall. "it's not enough" he thinks for a moment, not having the time to be embarrassed when his tip is aching the way it is, he wraps your panties, the ones he swore he'd never touch , the ones he was supposed to sneak back in your laundry, yeah those, he wraps them right around his cock. rutting into them as if it were you. he feels disgusting, but he can hear how wet you are, how desperate you are, he knows he can make you come faster than this. his headboard thumps against the wall at the force he uses, he feels dirty, like some disgusting pervert spying on a girl he liked, but technically, she was doing this for him, moaning for him, putting on a show for him.
you cum with a muffled cry of his name, he watches it, almost wishes he couldve recorded because of how good you look, and when his own cum spills out and covers your panties, it only takes half a second before the shame runs up his neck. he'd have to apologize for it somehow.