marks - knight!clark x princess!reader
He stops. Frozen, thumb running tentatively over your skin. You look down, wondering what’s caught his attention, and then you see it. Right where he had been gripping you, where his ring had dug in, is a mark.
warnings: 18+ mildly explicit content, minors DNI. smut. unprotected pnv (this is sc's psa to use protection). cream pie. marks. slight overstimulation bc come on it's clark. marks. forbidden romance royalty au. shhh its a secret relationship!! i know its short don't hate me!!! based on my text post from last night <33
word count: 1.3k
Your and Clark’s relationship had always been defined by clandestine meetings. It wasn’t often that you were afforded a true moment together without the prying eyes of servants or the demands of either of your jobs. While you craved the longer, more relaxed moments between the two of you, there was something deliciously special about quick entanglements in stairwells and empty rooms.
Much like now, when the two of you found yourselves tucked into a small alcove outside the garden, far from the prying eyes of the people in the ballroom. He had one arm around your waist and the other tangled in your hair, holding your body to his chest while you writhed under his touch. His hips pressed into yours, your dress only barely hiding his cock buried deep inside you. With your skirts rucked up around your middle, you were sure you looked like anything but a princess, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care so long as Clark was touching you.
When he hit a particularly sensitive spot, you tossed your head back and whined carelessly, fingers curling into his dark curls and tugging, ripping a groan from deep within his chest.
“Shh, sweetheart. We need to be quiet… can’t let anyone hear us,” Clark murmured into your ear, emphasizing his words with a gentle nip to your earlobe. He didn’t let up on his pace as he did so, coaxing your body closer and closer to a blissful high.
“Clark,” you moaned quietly in response, burying your face in his neck. His scent propelled you closer to your peak, cloaking you in him. Clark’s hand shifted, the cool metal of his signet ring searing into your hipbone. “Clark, ’m so close.”
“I know,” you felt his voice more than you heard it. “Me too. Let go for me, my love.”
White edged your vision as you felt him twitch within your warmth, his own release creeping closer. He wouldn’t come until you did- you knew that- but the thought of him finishing inside you sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through your body as you clenched around Clark once more. Stars flickered across your vision as you threw your head back, Clark continuing to whisper soft praise into your ear.
You came quickly, the orgasm wracking through your body like a tidal wave, leaving you only enough breath to whisper Clark’s name and cling to him as though he were the only thing keeping you afloat in an ocean. His movements slowed enough to let you ride it out — shallow thrusts, enough to keep him close to his own release, but not so much as to overstimulate you to the point of pain.
“So beautiful,” Clark gasped into your mouth. “May I?”
You nodded, tightening your legs around Clark’s lithe hips as he resumed his movements. Bliss was the only way to describe what he was doing to you, playing your body like a violin as he chased his own release. It would have been too much on its own, but for Clark, you would gladly push yourself beyond your limits over and over. He might deny it, but he loved being able to bring you pleasure beyond what you could ever imagine, leaving your legs wobbly like a fawn’s and your lips swollen.
“I’m gonna-” Clark breathed. “Sweetheart, you’ve gotta let me-”
You shook your head, drawing his dark blue eyes to yours and hooking your ankles behind him to prevent him from pulling away. “Stay.”
His lips parted as his head fell to your chest, mouthing at the swell of your breast revealed where your dress strap had slipped from your shoulder. Clark moaned your name as he came. You felt his release flood into you, warm as his cock twitched through the orgasm. His ring dug into your hips, the bite of the metal marring your skin.
The two of you didn’t move or speak for several minutes, only exchanging deep kisses as you slowly floated back down to earth. Clark’s grip on your hip loosened, his hands smoothing over you as he slipped from your warmth, while you instinctively clenched and whimpered at the loss of him. He pulled his trousers back into place and adjusted his ring so it sat properly on his finger. Clark then drew you into a soft embrace as your skirts fell back to your ankles, gently tugging your dress strap back into place.
“Are you alright?”
You nodded against his chest, the familiar ache of goodbye flooding your heart as you realized you wouldn’t speak to him – wouldn’t see him – for a while after this. You didn’t even know when. It could be as short as hours. It could be as long as days, even weeks. His fingers traced up and down the bare skin of your backless dress, goosebumps following in their wake.
“I don’t want to go back in there,” you whispered, tears clouding your vision.
Clark’s grip tightened around you as though he was protecting you from the silly threat of a crowded ball. “I know, my love. But you must.”
“I wish I could stay with you.”
“I’m always with you. Right here.” He touched your heart, feeling the steady pulse beneath his palm. Clark smiled reassuringly as he took your hand and pressed it over his own heart. “Just as you’re with me.”
You brushed that stubborn curl away from his forehead, searching his face for reassurance you didn’t need but desperately wanted, trying to convey just how much you loved him without words- as though a single look, kiss, or sentence could ever contain the depth of your feelings.
Clark knows.
Clark knows, dropping to his knees to ensure your skirts sit perfectly in place, lifting one side to tug your lace panties back where they belong and pressing his lips to your ankles, knees, and hipbones as he goes. He noses at your hip, reverently holding your sides as if worshipping at the altar of your love.
He stops. Frozen, thumb running tentatively over your skin.
You look down, wondering what’s caught his attention, and then you see it.
Right where he had been gripping you, where his ring had dug in, is a mark.
c.k.
It isn’t deep; it will likely fade before morning, and it doesn’t even hurt.
Clark stares at it reverently, wishing he could feel sorry, any kind of remorse, but the sight of your perfect skin marked with his initials nearly drives him insane. It leaves him hard again, wanting to throw you over his shoulder and announce to everyone in that stuffy ballroom that you’re his.
Even though he can’t, the tiny mark fills him with pride, as though he just did.
“Oh,” you say, unable to keep the smile from your voice.
“I’m sorry,” Clark says, sounding not at all sorry as he presses a gentle kiss to it before rising to his feet and once again fixing your dress.
You wrap your arms around his neck. “When will I see you again?”
Clark presses his forehead to yours, breathing in your last moments together. “Tonight,” he decides. “Put a candle in your window if you still want me to come.”
“And you’ll be there? Even if I fall asleep?”
“Sure as the sun rises,” Clark promises, kissing you chastely; a sharp contrast to the mess he left dripping out of you. He pulls away, reattaching his sword to his hip.
“I love you,” you breathe desperately, grabbing his hand and squeezing.
The look he gives you could give you the strength to scale a mountain- wide-eyed and adoring. His smile could power the entire palace. “And I love you.”
Later that night, when you’re both back in the too-hot ballroom - you dancing with the son of a duke from a duchy three kingdoms over and him standing post and watching - Clark can’t find it in himself to be jealous.
Not when he knows his initials mark you in a place only he is privileged enough to see.
