catching print 18+
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you didn’t want to be a pervert or anything. however you were curious about what would clark do if he seen you try to catch print. that’s if he ever was up on the socials. which was impossible not to—he’s a reporter.
laying on your shared bed, you heard him get out the shower and this was the perfect time. clark would get out, towel sitting low on his hips, steam rolling off his body, skin glistening. he’ll talk to you about work, rambling about how his day was even if he just told you when he came home.
as if on cue, he comes out. talking immediately about his day, throwing emphasis on certain words because apparently his reports seem to be off according to his coworkers. your eyes trail down to his crotch area, covered by the towel. if you look closely you can see the curve of him. he’s soft—for now. it moves occasionally—you would always tease him when he did that
you didn’t need to actually catch print with clark, but it was fun to do so when he’s half naked and has some pent up frustration from earlier. nodding along to his words, throwing in some ‘hm’ occasionally. he suddenly stops talking but you don’t register it.
clark is definitely more than an ‘A’. it was obvious. his dick alone sometimes made your mouth water. tip slighty pink, the length of him was unreal, girth was something else. whenever he was inside you, it felt like he was splitting you open. he kept clean most of the time.
the best part, he can fuck you with the tip only and you’ll be drunk of that.
you wouldn’t be surprised if he was at work, and woman fawned over him but mr kent made it clear he had eyes for one special lady in his life.
who is staring at his dick like he can’t see.
“you’re staring.” clark voice cuts through the silence. you finally look at him, unbothered that he caught you. shrugging your shoulders. “yes, i am.” you state. he walks over to you, you tilt your head back a bit when he gets in front you.
his hands on his hips, he had a look in his eyes before he spoke. “catching print?” you nod smiling. you swear you could see his dick twitch a bit in the towel
got him.
clark hums lowly. he clears his throat taking the towel off. there it was. head swollen, precum beading at the tip slowly dripping down the base of him. he stares at you.
“got what you needed?” he asks—in another words there was a secret message behind the words. which meant, ‘you got it. might as well’.
you sit up on your knees, hands on the bed, he steps closer. the tip of him on your lips, precum smearing your lips a bit before he nudges your mouth open.
maybe you should catch print more often.