I need more about Clark on his rut, I need it like I need air and I send you tender forehead smooches for posting your writing it makes me so happy
I think about it so often, anon.
His smooth, tanned skin, slicked in sweat. His chest, where you so often love to rest your head, rising and falling rapidly with his panting. His whole body flushed red, heat coursing through his veins with no sign of slowing or cooling down. His lips, pink and swollen from being caught between his teeth, when he’s not begging out loud to an empty room. His right hand grabbing a fistful of the silk sheets underneath him, and the other wrapped tight around his rigid, girthy cock.
His hips are lifting off the mattress desperately, fucking the tight ring of his fist in a poor imitation of what he really needs. He’s never been so grateful for the sound-proof walls of his apartment, shielding his neighbours from his loud groans, because he has zero will to hold them back in his state. His mind is foggy, unable to focus on anything other than chasing his release, and of course, you. His sweet omega who’s not yet his, who he can’t call and beg to come over, no matter how badly he wants to. You deserve better than that.
Still, it’s you he calls out to as he works his shaft, thumb teasing his tip, embarrassingly close to his third orgasm of many. He tries to imagine your hands around him instead – you’d need two to properly wrap your hands around him – but his are too rough, too many calluses from years of farm work and fighting, and he knows yours would be soft. He can practically hear your voice soothing him, beckoning him to cum for you, all over your hands and your face till you’re covered in his spend-
“Ahh!” is the sound that escapes him as he finally releases, white ropes dripping down his fist as it clenches around his engorged knot, simulating the tight clench of you around him. He mutters to himself as he rocks his hips, riding out his orgasm while he tells his empty room how badly he wants to fill you up with his pups.
And then he whines, throwing his head back in frustration, because it’s brought no relief. Damn his Kryptonian stamina. It’s going to take him twice as long to sate his needs without you, which means he’ll probably be doing this for hours, till this white-hot burning desire has abated enough for him to get some rest, before he inevitably starts again.
Yeah. I think about that all the time.
