𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧
𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: Clark fucks you to the point of overstimulation. 𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆/𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐆𝐎𝐑𝐘: Explicit/F!Reader 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: plot, p-in-v, creampies, hotel sex, colleague!reader, overstimulation, breast play, titty!loving clark, soft!dom clark 𝐖/𝐂: 2.5k
what the hell did you do?
three, gruelling, hours.
i — i don't know. olsen's email, i clicked the link and everything…just..
that's how long you'd been pacing back and forth, sputtering words out like some bullshit-paranormal-ovilus. trying to reconstruct your drafted keynote speech.
it won't start. oh my GOD. OH MY GOD.
when clark had finally gotten you to settle, you were both shoulder-to-shoulder on the bed, with your backs against the headboard. scattered notes lay between you, sentences struck-through and highlighted.
↳ Olsen, Jimmy <[email protected]>
To: <[email protected]>
was this filmed on the kent farm???
<https.xxxvideos.org/cow-girl-plowed-on-hay-bed/langsthang/edf9c32c-97ec-48b6-8555-5563b5f30145>
it was nearing 11pm when you hear a grating, peppy rap to the door.
you already knew who it'd been before unlatching the chains. after all, there'd only been one specific dork who'd knock to the tune of a shave and a haircut.
every. damn. time.
there's a slight intrigue in seeing him off the clock, though. greedily, your gaze cards through him, head to toe — navy plaid sweats, paired with a plain shirt that'd definitely looked like it'd gone soft after several washes. his hairs endearingly curled all wrong from the shower he must've taken before coming here.
"i…forgot my laptop charger," he tries, almost like he'd sensed he was about to get a face full of hardwood.
"ask concierge."
"…you were right across the hall."
"so?"
"just need to check my email before going down for the night. i'll be quick. promise."
you think about slamming the door shut on him. but then your eyes remain fixated — to the worn out collar, down to the sleeves of his shirt, tastefully taut around the biceps. it doesn't take more than a moment's hesitation before you proceed to nudge the door open with your heels.
the room you were given had been the same as his, clark notes. same carpet, dusty mod curtains, and a framed painting of what's certainly a cheap replica of an actual designer painting. though your room, had acquired that homey lived-in feel even after three days of being in the borrowed space. shoes were kicked off haphazardly by the entryway, and a luggage half-opened with what he thinks were intimates spilling from it. he carefully averts his gaze from that to the mess on your bed.
clark opts to sit cross-legged by the foot of the queen frame, bigger, wider limbs awkwardly folded until he had your laptop balanced on his knees.
"be quick with it. i want to take a bath. and practice." you call out, kicking your suitcase shut in haste.
which really, was code for, i want to jerk off as soon as you leave this room.
you think that a sight of any man might've done it for you, considering how you were presently eyeing clark, particularly at his forearms, which normally wasn't in view with the ill-fitting sports coat he had on most of the time. it was embarrassing how pent up you'd been this entire month, the oogling, was quickly interrupted by his voice.
"uh…" he's hem and hawing, clearly.
"mm." you lift your head up to meet his gaze, and then frown at the guilty dog look he's sized you with far too often.
"what the hell did you do?"
…despite everything up to this point, clark had actually been helpful.
specific phrasings, concepts and anecdotes, he'd completed one of your every thought to the point you think your heart might have fluttered at his competency. though the question remained, and you were genuinely perplexed at how he'd managed to corrupt your draft by clicking on a 'link.'
it's only after he'd helped you revive the draft of your speech through your combined memories, that you pointed out how clicking on a link would've led to that disaster.
"it was a link, then some button," he insists, collecting the scribbled final draft, in chronological order.
"some button wouldn't do that." you pause, staring at him with a suspicious glint in your eyes.
"wait," he raises his palm to shush you, finding a convenient segue as he counts the pages of notes out loud. "four…five, six. is that all?"
your attention similarly follows his line of sight. scanning through the words in practised precision. "you're…right. i think we got it."
he holds his gaze on yours, nodding with a sheepish smile. "yeah."
"we got it!" you squeak, turning to him. clark mirrors your excitement, his hand shooting up in a high-five that was left up in the air. instead, you've thrown your arms around him, practically leaping into him.
clark catches you with ease, despite his surprise. the gentle tug to the back of your waist has your thighs perfectly slotted between his meatier, parted ones. instinctively, you climb higher. palms sliding down the expanse of his back, until he has you securely snug against him.
the closeness is instantly apparent, and clark's completely zeroed in on the sensation, the softness of your chest, evidently lacking any support beneath, now resting soft, pliable and flush on him. it occurs to you after a beat of silence, pulling back just enough to peer up at him. you blink, hoping he didn't feel the embarrassingly loud thump against your chest at the proximity.
"sorry." you blurt, noticing how glasses have slid down the bridge of his nose, "knee..jerk reaction," stupidly, you take the liberty to push it higher up the curve.
clark on the other hand. looked down-right pained.
gods, please don't say jerk when you're this close to me.
the fight leaves him all at once, head slumping right by your eyeline in defeat. "it's…fine."
you catch a whiff of patchouli and mint wafting from his curls, and grit your jaw.
"i'm uh…sorry about screwing up your first draft."
leisurly, you shift, settling between his parted thighs, in no obvious hurry to tear away from him. "we pulled it back…so…" and because you can't hold yourself in check, "…maybe next time, don't open weird porn links from james."
that gets him to snap his head up, eyes blown out wide. "wh — …what. how did you —"
"browser histories exist."
"ah..…of course." he's nodding, mumbling awkwardly to himself, face now buried into his hands — that's great. fantastic. good job, clark. ma should've put me back into the stupid pod.
"hey."
he doesn't answer.
"earth to clark." you press, tilting your head to meet his eyeline.
"mmn." he manages, peeking through his fingers.
"that pent up, huh?"
"please," he squeaks, "i-i'm mortified as is —"
both your palms come to rest by his wrists. pulling it down so you could properly see his face.
"opening it while i was barely a foot from you. kind of…insulting."
clark doesn't think he has it in him to speak. not when you were looking up at him, eyes half-lidded and full of fucking need. so, his tongue catches his lower lip, trying to think of something, anything to say. "i wasn't going to make a move on you when you were stressed out and —"
"so you admit that's what you actually were here for?"
his lips press taut, lowering his hands, and effectively, yours as well, until they rested on your thighs. "stop talking. please." he tries, deep blue eyes practically pleading for you to put him out of his misery.
you consider, teeth catching your lower lips, glinting at the crack in his voice. "yeah? or what?"
that seems to get him to abandon niceties, lips slotting against yours finally. he tilts his head, deepening the kiss without giving you a chance to tease him any longer. not that you would.
not right now, at least. not when you wanted to fuck him so badly that you'd made the move first to clamber onto his lap. clark welcomes it, with a breathy whimper into your mouth, encouraging the closeness until he could feel that tantalising softness of your tits pressed against his chest.
"mmph — couldn't, couldn't stop thinking about these." the words were emphasised by a rough grope of your chest, squeezing and kneading a tit as he groaned.
"i-i know," you gasp, missing his lips when you try to go back in for another. clark tilts his head for you as your kisses go off-course, travelling up his jawline — his breathing heavier by the second at your mouthing.
"…you…you know?" his hands slide down your spine, mindlessly squeezing the globes of your ass, hips a mind of its own as they match your little grinds.
"ngh—…fuck. not…you're not that subtle." your grunts, vibrate against his hot skin, "staring…at me whenever i moved. w-whenever they moved."
clark swears his cock twitched, just at the memory from earlier. every notion, every shift, and he'd seen that erotic perk of your nipples beneath your shirt.
his hands slide upward, along with the hem of your shirt, just to free the sight he'd been dying for.
"…fuck. ugh. fuck." they're stuttered whispers, at best, but you feel it in the next second. the inexplicable stiffening of his cock beneath his trousers, just at the sight of your tits.
your hips arch instinctively, as though you wanted to get them as close as his face as possible, and you can't help but let a soft moan out.
"shit. i-i, please. can i suck them? please?"
the answer doesn't come through words, but the gentle entanglement of your digits through his curls, nudging his face to your middle. clark doesn't hesitate, his mouth wrapping around the fat with a grunt.
"ngh!"your hips circle at the base, broken, pained whimpers leaving you grinding helplessly as he suckles the fat around your tits. purposefully avoiding where would elicit the most pleasure for you. his hands are soon to follow, squeezing them together. then, he finally dragged his tongue past the stiffened peaks of your areolas, uncaring at the graze of his teeth past your buds.
"must be…going crazy. taste like candy."
"m-nnh, too — t-too rough!" you manage, making no effort to push him away. it felt far too good, the slight sting and stimulation his tongue and teeth were providing your nipples with. every sensitive pull serves to send shockwaves down your spine, paired with the loud smacks of his suckles echoing the room.
you peer down, only to see his glasses crooked, with a mouthful of your tit.
"mmph—ssh'rry…" the sight in itself, paired with the wet, hard length rubbing at your clit is far too much. quivers of your thighs bring you back to reality, and you've realised that you'd cum.
he looks at you, growing harder at the sight of how flustered and confused you seem.
"gosh…s'fuckin…cute. are you upset? that you came?"
when you don't answer, clark turns you over, towering above your body, "let's get you to cum f'me some more, mm?"
"want that?"
meekly, you nod, face buried by the sheets when his fingers cup your pussy, right beneath your waistband. slick coats his palm, and he amply smears it along your folds, rubbing you until you've tilted your hips, just to meet his touches. "wan'it, please."
clark hums, and in a decisive motion, plugs your wet pussy with two digits.
a loud, muffled moan resounds, and he takes it as encouragement to gently fuck your cunt — with his impossibly thick and wide digits, curling, circling within your gummy walls. it borders on unbearable, the dull ache that somehow only grows more potent despite the thrusts of his fingers.
"s'not enough." you bleat, shaking your head as tears begin to prick the corner of your eyes. "not — fuck, it's not enough, clark —"
"jesus…greedy girl." he groans, ridding his fingers from your cunt with effort.
clark takes a moment to breathe, it's not that he didn't want to fuck you. he just thinks the second he slips right into that sweet, wet pussy of yours — pulsing visually at the emptiness of his fingers, he might just break.
the second he sees a glimpse if your tear-stricken cheeks, on the other hand?
"can't fucking do this t'me." he chokes, free hand forcing your face to look at him. he wanted to squeeze you, meld you to him. clark shakes his head, his hand sliding beneath his trousers to angle his cock, messy with his own pre, directly to your cunt.
"breathe."
there's no politeness to his words any more. no sweetness. just pure, unbridled need.
his cock stretches by your entrance right after the warning he gives, forcing its way past the initial tightness.
"fuck, oh fuck, fuck, fuck fuck!" the words practically spill as you feel every inch of him, go deeper and deeper into you. "clark —"
"m'right here. c'mon. breathe." he lowers his head, inhaling your skin while he stuffs you full of his cock. you're nodding through the encouragement, on your tippy-toes on the sheets, thighs quivering as you manage to take him entirely.
"i-is it?"
"yeah." he pants, looking at you intently, "good job, sweetheart. gonna move, okay?"
you nod sharply, melting into his shoulders as he gradually thrusts. heavy, circling motions to get you just a little more used to the sensation before he begins to fuck his hips into you.
"ah —.. gosh. so —…" his words, barely making it past mere grunts, low against your pulse. he doesn't stop, even as he feels the uncontrollable quiver of your thighs. they're gently coaxed around his hips, and you feel rubbing some of the goosebumps away.
"so good. so, so good." he rambles, pulling back to press his forehead against yours.
you're panting into his mouth, senses dulled as he continues to fuck you, to use you past your overstimulation. eventually, the aching grows much more potent in your belly, a new wave of climax that approaches you, fuelled by the sounds of his abdomen smacking against yours, slick with your cum.
"g-gonna cum. just, mh — a little more."
at this point, you're completely out of it, nodding, moaning incoherently as he drives his thick cock into you, over and over. his hips pick up, fucking you much harder. "clark!" you squeak, shaking your head, trying desperately to get him to stop, or give it to you harder with weak little presses to his chest — you just didn't know anymore.
"i-i know baby, i know, i know."
with a hasty manoeuvre, his mouth crashes into yours, messily tangling his tongue into your mouth as he finally breaks. fucking deep spurts of his cum into you in heavy snaps. the weight of him against your belly coaxes the final orgasm you didn't know you had left, with fluids of your arousal splattering against the narrow space where you both were connected.
he continues to fuck you through your orgasm, unfazed by the mess pooling beneath you.
"h-hahh..ah..that was…"
you would've probably chewed him out for fucking you to the point of squirting.
if you'd even been conscious to do so.
"…shoot."
