"Today. Tomorrow." a Superman fan comic about Clark Kent, Lois Lane and relationships.
We wanted to tackle one of the trickiest parts of Superman mythos; and that's the entangled romance between Clark Kent, Lana Lang, Lois Lane and Superman. Often times these more mundane parts of Superman get pushed to the side, when they can give so much insight into the characters and what they're seeking from each other.
contains: angst with a happy ending. later seasons gang– ollie, jimmy, lois, chloe, pete, lexana mention. chloe is jealous, clark is protective and clingy, reader is sensitive. mentions of bars/alcohol. arguing, pet names, unresolved issues. *no use of y/n
a/n: this broke me to write bc i love my chloe i would never yell at her but it was actually a lot of fun to write at the same time… i hope this is to your liking, anon :) also i barely proofread this one so just be nice
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It was customary for Clark to have his hands on you at all times, especially in situations where there were the most eyes to see. You had made peace with it oh so (un)begrudgingly, and your friends had, too, even when it was a bit excessive. Well, most of them had.
It was no one’s fault. Clark was just an extraordinarily affectionate guy. From the moment he laid eyes on you, he was unstoppable; a hand on your back, his mouth on your temple, his nose nudging your jaw, his arms looping you in like a net. He stuck to you like you were made of honey. There wasn’t much to be complained about there, because it felt good to be loved. Even the part of you that felt embarrassed when he was over the top sort of loved the attention… to have a guy as handsome as Clark hanging off you, incapable of leaving you be, following your trail like you had bacon in your pocket? Who wouldn’t want people to see that? Who wouldn’t want to be the object of that kind of affection?
It was coming up on a year of being loved and loving. You practically had to swat Clark off of a proposal, insisting that you move in first, that it shouldn’t be rushed, but it was hard to resist the pull. He frequently joked that you had the opposite of the Medusa effect, he said, meaning that to look away from you even for a second would kill him. He settled to keep the ring he bought away for a while longer, but in exchange, you went everywhere with him and you lived life conjoined at the hip. It was a happy compromise, but not everyone saw it that way.
Your friends were Clark’s friends, and for the most part, they found you two sweet. Pete was always easy when it came to being happy for his buddy, and Lois could roll her eyes however much she wished, but she admired his passion for you. Oliver offered nothing but brotherly claps on the back that made you scoff, and Jimmy was humorously jealous that Clark had managed to get his smartest friend to love him while Jimmy couldn’t even get a date. Lana and Lex cooed over you frequently, having the hindsight of their own love to keep them objective. But Chloe struggled to stomach it sometimes, and it was harder to hide the longer you two stayed together.
Chloe had always been sweet, but you knew about her past feelings for Smallville’s golden boy. She had known Clark long before you– you were only as old as his life at the Daily Planet. Her claim was staked when they were middle schoolers, and the fire of her love was stoked over and over again for years. Both she and Clark led each other on in the past, and even while growing up and dating other guys, Chloe harbored a tiny bit of uncontrollable passion for her best friend. She couldn’t seem to shake it, no matter how much she pushed it down, and seeing him drool over you in the way she wished he would for her for so long was starting to eat at her. It wasn’t healthy or fair, and she knew that, but she couldn’t stop the jealousy. It was her fatal flaw.
Take tonight, for example. It was happy hour at the bar across the street from the Planet, and Oliver was buying with the bonus he wrangled out of a merger deal earlier in the day. Around a high top, you stood with Clark curled around your back like a clam, chin tucked over your shoulder, in a circle with Oliver, Lois, Jimmy, Chloe, and Pete. As you nursed a beer, you kibitzed with Pete over some story from his recent roadie adventures. You felt Clark’s fingers fiddling with the buttons on your cardigan, tracing shapes against the soft pudge of your tummy through your top. Your stomach fluttered, but you learned to listen to people even with his hands on you. He was even distracted in conversation with Lois, and you could feel the rumble of his soft, deep laugh between your shoulder blades. Two intertwined vines, just like always. But you could feel eyes on you– a familiar feeling, a nerve-wracking one. You glanced beside Pete to see Chloe sipping her beer and staring at Clark’s hands around your body, and you flushed a bit. You finished off your last swing and patted his arm.
“I’m gonna go grab another. Who wants more? Should I get a round?”
Clark hummed softly and kissed your cheek, and then seemingly got dragged in, giving you three in a row– and then one of your lips. “I’ll go for you, bunny, you want the same thing?”
You wiped your mouth with a sheepish hand and nodded. “Seriously, I can–”
“It’s fine, baby, I’ll get you a fresh one. I could use another. Guys?”
You watched him poll the table, and he didn’t step away until he kissed you one more time. Your hands stayed intertwined until he was too far to hold on, and he gave you one of those quiet winks that promised he’d hurry back before turning to look at where he was going. You shifted back to the table and smiled loopily, grabbing up a few empty bottles. “I’ll toss these. Be right back.”
The trash was only a few feet away, which would have been convenient if all was in order. But as you stepped off to throw away the empties, you heard something over the thumping of the bar music and drunken voices bouncing off the walls.
Back at the table, a familiar feminine voice complained: “This doesn’t bother you guys? Seriously? He’s all over her.”
“They’re in love, Chlo, it’s sweet. You know how much Clark adores her,” a male voice interjected. Low, smooth. Oliver.
“I mean, come on, though. Her? He acts like he’s possessed or something. She must be a witch, honestly. I don’t see how he could be so enamored with her like he is. She’s not all that.”
“Come on, Chloe, don’t be an asshole.” Snippy. Lois.
“I’m not! I’m just being honest. It beats me…”
When you stepped back to the table, it was clear on your face that they hadn’t been quiet enough. You were pale under the skin and your eyes didn’t lift to look at them. Not even when Clark came back holding a fresh round. He passed you a new beer and rubbed your hip, tugging you into his side and kissing your head. “Here, bunny girl. Just how you like. I had them put the lime in for you.”
Your stomach churned and you took the bottle, and you stared into the condensation running down the amber glass. You saw the reflection of your face in the glimmer, and in the back of your head you heard her again: She must be a witch, honestly. I don’t see how he could be so enamored with her like he is. She’s not all that.
Chloe’s eyes were wide, darting around the table with guilt. The guys immediately shut their mouths with beer, but Lois stood there with her arms crossed, giving Chloe a harsh glare. Leave it to the cousin to reprimand her.
“Baby? You okay?”
You blinked and looked up at Clark, and in a split moment of impulse, you gently pulled yourself free from his grasp. His face fell, and as he moved to drag you back, you muttered, “Just… cool it, Clark, please.”
Clark stared down at you like you had just shot him in the chest. Cool it? Don't touch? Since when? He frowned deep, the little lines of his forehead wrinkling to match, and your heart sank.
“What’s the matter?” he inquired, brushing some hair back from your face. “Do you feel sick or something?”
“I’m fine. I just… the… the PDA is a little much for me tonight,” you whispered, chewing on your nail. You looked back down at your beer, and Clark felt the air shift in the bar.
“What do you mean? You don’t like it? I thought you liked it.”
“I– it– it’s not that, Clark, I just…”
Around the table, his friends stood and gawked at him as if they knew something he didn’t. They must have, because nobody was talking, and this was notoriously a group of people who never shut the fuck up. He furrowed his brow and crossed his arms, scanning over Oliver’s avoidant eyes and Lois’ overt glances at her cousin. After a moment of silence, he cut through the music with a sharp, “What happened?”
Jimmy shook his head and shrugged. “What? Nothing. Nothing happened. Everything is great. This beer is great. Thanks, man.”
Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment. You had thought about this a million times– about the possibility of talking to Chloe, or at least bringing it to Clark’s attention how she made you feel. You didn’t want to step on toes or hurt anyone’s feelings. You knew what it was like to be passed over for another girl, and now that you were the other girl, you had a lot more sympathy than she probably knew; but you also loved Clark, and you didn’t want to offend him. It wasn’t your place to make a conflict out of a friendship that came before you. But it was these moments, these little passing comments about how it seemed wrong or unbelievable Clark could love you this much that made everything harder. You already had the voice in your head trying to convince you that it was true. You spent more time reminding yourself that he adored you for real than anyone could possibly imagine, and now you knew that other people were thinking it and saying it behind your back. Your friends.
You cleared your throat and patted his arm. “I just feel a little sick, um… I’m gonna get some fresh air, okay? I’ll be right back, Clarkie.”
Clark didn’t stop you. In fact, he stood right in his place and watched you go with a shocked, slacked jaw. He tracked your soft frame as it slipped out the front door of the bar, and when it shut behind you, his heart twinged with discomfort. You being far felt like losing a limb.
Chloe scratched her head, because everyone was staring at her now. She saw frustration and embarrassment like a wall before her. She swallowed thickly and traced a wet ring on the table.
Clark followed the visual trail and said, “Chloe?”
“Hm?”
“What happened?”
Chloe glanced up to see her best friend watching her with suspicion. It made her lungs squeeze. His big, blue eyes seemed so disappointed, and she hated that look. It was never the one she wanted. But she couldn’t help but admire him for it. She hated how much she looked up to him sometimes, because it made her quick to justify his feelings, even if they were directed at her. Any attention was good attention if it came from Clark, in her book.
“Nothing happened.”
“Somebody upset her,” Clark crossed his arms, his gaze darkening. “And one of you is going to tell me what happened.”
“Clark–”
“Tell me,” he ordered, and just about every spine around the tabletop stiffened.
Chloe flushed and mumbled, “It wasn’t anything bad, seriously, she just… I made a joke about you two and I think she heard it. It was stupid.”
Clark cocked his head, expressionless in a way that nobody liked, not one bit. “What did you say?”
“I… it… it was just, like, a joke about you. How you’re so obsessed with her. I said something about her being a witch or something, because how else would you be so into her, or whatever. Like I said, it was stupid–”
“You said that? That came out of your mouth? Are you serious, Chloe?”
“I didn’t mean for her to hear me, Clark, it was just a–”
“And you guys let her say something like that?” Clark surveyed his friends, and watched each of them shrug and look down, avoiding his judgement. “Why would you even let that happen? Why would you say that?”
“I mean, you’ve gotta admit that you are all over her. Like, all the time. It gets obnoxious after a while,” Chloe blurted, clenching her beer bottle in apprehension.
Clark paused and clenched his palms. Something hot and sick rushed over him, and the struggle to keep his calm was one of the worst he’d ever fought. Worse than kryptonite. Worse than anything. He thought of you standing outside on the sidewalk, cold and alone, mortified at having overheard something so ridiculous, something that suggested for even a second that his love for you was anything less than real. He thought of how many nights he kissed you quietly, shushed your worries about his intentions, his emotions. He thought of how beautiful you looked when you let go of the insecurity and believed him. He thought of how you loved him and all his overbearing touches, and he raised an accusatory eyebrow at the blonde across the way, who looked as though she already knew where this was going.
“She’s my girlfriend. I think I’m well within my rights to touch her when I want.”
“I’m not telling you to stop, I was just joking about how it’s a little excessive sometimes, Clark.”
“And you get to make that judgement? I’m happy, Chloe. She makes me happy. Does everybody have a problem with how I act around my own girlfriend?”
As Clark glanced around the table, he was met with a variety of expressions– shrugs, shaking heads, sorry eyes– and his jaw clenched harder.
“Nobody has a problem with it, Clark,” Lois added, trying to soften the blow, “and Chloe said it was a stupid joke. No need to get angry.”
“It’s a little late for that, Lois,” Clark scoffed, running a hand down his face. “You know what? I can’t believe you. All of you, actually, that you would let her get away with saying something so insensitive. All she has ever done is be kind to you. Come out to your bar nights, your parties, run your articles, bake for you, bring you coffees. That girl bends over backwards to be a good friend, and more than that, to be a part of our lives. She loves you guys! She looks up to us and the work we do. She loves me. She’s the most precious thing I have, and this is how you treat her? You alienate her the second I’m not around to hear it, like a bunch of cowards, is that how you act without me?”
Chloe paled. “I think you’re taking this a little far!”
“Oh, I’m taking it too far? Christ, Chloe, that’s rich coming from you! You called her a witch!”
“Yeah, well, at least I didn’t call her a bitch!”
It was common for Chloe to lose her temper, but the second the words fell from her lips, everybody seemed to stop breathing. Chloe winced at her own mistake, and Clark seethed.
You were outside in the cold, and all he wanted was you. Even more than he wanted to throw this sticky tabletop into the wall. So, he took a deep breath, and then grabbed his coat, your coat, and your purse off the stool before him.
“Are you seriously leaving?”
“You know, Chloe, it’s the weirdest thing. I feel this crazy urge to go out and kiss my girlfriend. Maybe she put a spell on me,” he deadpanned.
“Clark,” Chloe groaned.
“No, Chlo. You crossed a line.” Clark walked around the table, and then he paused to point at her. His voice was so soft that it made her shiver. “Don’t you ever do this again. Don’t joke, tease, talk about her again. If I find out you did, or that any of the rest of you allowed it or do it yourselves, you’ll be lucky if I leave you with functioning tongues.” After seeing her remorseful eyes flicker over his face, Clark added, “She is the love of my life. She deserves more respect from you, and so do I. I expect you to apologize and mean it, but not tonight. I think you’ve done enough damage for one day. Got it?”
Chloe just kept her mouth shut and nodded, feeling her chest tighten. The regret coursing through her veins was enough to make anybody feel nauseous, and it only grew more potent as Clark walked out of the bar, leaving the group to their own devices.
Lois sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “One of these days you’re going to have to deal with your shit, Chloe.”
“Oh, so this is all my fault now?”
Pete huffed and grabbed his jacket. “No. It’s our fault for letting you keep it up.”
Chloe’s cheeks deepened to a mortified rose as her best friends gathered their things and threw down cash to cover the tab. “You’re seriously mad at me? He’s the one who blew up on us!”
“Goodnight, Chlo,” Oliver urged, and the rest followed him as the first to leave. Chloe stood at the table, tracing the rim of her beer bottle with a shaky finger and wishing she never said a word.
Outside on the sidewalk, Clark tugged your jacket over you and cradled your face. His hands were so warm. He was always hot as a heater. You leaned into the touch, and he pressed sweet little kisses all across the plane of your forehead.
“How about I take you out somewhere, just you and me, huh? Get you a better drink? Something sweet?”
“Yeah,” you nodded, closing your eyes. “Please. Just you.”
“Just me, baby,” he promised, and he coaxed his fingers through your hair. Clark studied the cherubic curve of your cheeks and the pout in your lips, and every inch of him seemed to buzz with love. “I’m so sorry they hurt your feelings. If it helps, I yelled. And I never yell.”
You left out a soft chuckle and gazed up into his eyes, reached out to brush a stray lock from his lashes. “You yelled? My mild-mannered reporter yelled?”
Clark flashed a sharp smile and kissed your nose. “Mhm. Like a real adult.”
“I wish I had been there.”
“No you don’t. You hate confrontation.”
You giggled a bit, blushing. “I do. You know me too well.”
“I know you because I love you,” he murmured.
You bumped your nose against his, and he leaned over you like a blanket, pressing you against the side of the building. The cold night chill had nothing on him. He smooched your cheek, and then your eyes, and then your mouth, one, two, three times. Your hands curled in his button down and you smiled, all echoes of earlier escaping into the night. Nothing mattered– not words, not opinions– when Clark touched you. You loved the PDA and you loved him. Nothing felt better, safer, more right than him.
“Mm,” you hummed against his lips, “if I was a witch, I would be a good one, if I got you to want me this much.”
Clark grinned and nipped your bottom lip. “If you were a witch, you wouldn’t even need a spell. I’d love you in every lifetime, no matter who you were.”
Your body melted like mush for him, and he scooped you up into a pressing hug, lifting you off the ground. You laughed and wrapped your legs around his hips, and Clark started off down the sidewalk holding you like a monkey. You peppered his cheeks with kisses. “Thank you for standing up for me.”
“Pssh,” he teased, scrunching his nose, “please. I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”
“I love you so, so much, Clarkie,” you pledged. “I always will.”
Clark peered up at you– your shining eyes, all that hair, all that beauty contained inside one perfect person– and he squeezed your hip under his grasp. “I love you too, bunny girl. Now let me buy you a real drink.”
— plot: keeping a relationship a secret is never easy, specially when two people really love each other, and specially when one… loses their memory.
— content: popular!reader heavily inspired in lana bc she’s ethereal , clark loses his memory , reader knows clark’s secret , kissing , secret relationship
— a/n: i really love the secret relationship trop so i hope you enjoy !!! requests are open, please give me more ideas to write. also, i always write with tom welling clark kent in mind, but pls feel welcome to imagine any clark kent you like!!! love you guys xoxo !!! ♡
— my masterlist
— SERIES MASTERLIST
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You’d gotten used to at climbing trees when the darkness of the night reached the sky. The tree that reached Clark’s window was as tall as his house, and keeping yourself from falling was something that required practice, some you’ve gotten over the few months you two had been together.
Who would’ve thought Smallville’s high head cheerleader and homecoming queen would’ve been caught climbing up Clark Kent’s bedroom window at eleven pm at night, less than the two were secretly seeing one another.
He opened the window once he saw the branches moving, helping you out by pulling you from your arms, lifting you up and getting you insight as if you weighted the same as one of those leaves. Your hair was a mess, which he helped you by pulling the small leaves and tree branches off it with a big smile.
“Next time, my house,” you whispered right in front of his face as you both sat on the bedroom floor. You were on his laps, his back lying back on the wall underneath the window, holding your waist with his hands. You looked beautiful under the moon’s light, your hair shining under the cool tone brightness that lit the whole room. You were to keep quiet, as you didn’t want neither Mr nor Mrs Kent knowing you were upstairs, in their son’s bedroom, wearing a pink tank top, some flared jeans, and no bra.
Clark smiled, his hands stroking your back until they reached the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him. The way his lips felt as they reached yours sent you ever the hill, as they felt both familiar, yet extraordinarily new, just like getting home after being away for too long. You feel comfortable, yet excited to see everything, finding out what you’ve missed while you were gone.
That’s how Clark Kent’s kisses felt. Like home. The way he would leave a trail of kisses down your neck and clavicle would send you over the edge, pushing the limits on how quiet you could remain without completely losing control, and doing something that would reveal the secret of your relationship and ruin the private moments you both shared.
Because that’s what you guys have left. The secret of you.
The next day at school, pretending you guys don’t know each other was the hardest. How could someone spend the entire night watching the stars, and dreaming about the future, yet treat you like nothing in their present? Clark would keep his best to keep his eyes away, trying to avoid looking in your direction. You were never that subtle, you’ve never been. And your friends knew.
“Why are you looking at Kent?” One of your friends asked as you looked away, putting back your things inside the locker, and pretending you hadn’t spent five minutes utterly star struck as you stared at your boyfriend, who was simply standing still.
“Why do you care?” You asked, your eyes glancing bar at Clark’s direction. He was talking to Chloe and Lana, chatting, and he was smiling. He always smiled like that. As if talking with others was the thing that made him the happiest. “What are you wearing for the party?” You asked your friend as you turned to look at her, diverting your eyes from Clark and from whatever that reminded you he wasn’t yours, at least not in the way you wanted him to be.
“Green tank top and my dark blue jeans. And what are you wearing? Something that matches Zach’s Porsche, I believe,” your friend mocked you, touching your arm with her index finger repeatedly, practically making fun of you. You rolled your eyes, putting your things back in your locker. “He’s very cute. And he likes you.”
“I’m not dating him,” you assured her. “And I never will. You can have him if you want.”
The day went by as normal. You were just waiting for the clock to hit ten pm so you could get out of whatever you were doing and rush towards the Kent farm.
You were at the Talon, your head buried in your books, studying next to your friends as a complicated history exam approached. You were sipping your latte, uncomplicated, practically just staring at your wrist watch with such intensity, as you waited for the clock to get any closer to ten.
It was currently six.
Clark, on the other hand, had a curious incident as the day had passed, and had lost his memory. Wiped. Entirely. He couldn’t even remember his own name, let alone his secret relationship with you.
“So this is the Talon,” Chloe said as they both walked in. Clark looked around, curious to the decoration of the cafe shop. “This is where we normally hang out, we drink coffee, that sort of thing. Uhm, let’s see if Lana’s around—“
“Woah…” Clark whispered once he saw… you.
You were ethereal. The way your hair fell so nicely, the way your eyes glistened, your smile warming the whole room. How you laughed, the melody of your laughter warming him up entirely. He’d never seen someone as precious, someone who made his heart stopped the way it did once he saw you.
You were the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen in his short period of consciousness, and he couldn’t believe his eyes.
He definitely couldn’t believe his eyes because he felt sudden heat growing on them. He blinked repeatedly, turning to look to the side when the heat came crushing out, his vision burning up a lamp by his side.
Chloe hurried to drop some cold coffee on the growing fire, ceasing it in a hurry, but you noticed. Of course you noticed. You saw when Clark walked in, and you were holding yourself from not jumping in his arms.
“Who’s that?” Clark asked Chloe as they both saw you stand up from your chair, your eyes focused on Clark.
“What? y/n? Some girl from school. You’ve barely talked to her. I believe she asked you for a pen once.” Chloe looked at you. “And she’s now walking towards us?”
“She’s beautiful,” Clark whispered as you got near.
“Hey, Clark,” you said, stopping in front of the two. “And Chloe,” you quickly greeted the blonde, as to not draw any suspicion. Then, you turned to look at Clark. “You okay?”
You thought he had his heat vision under control, but he clearly was having a flaking out, or more like a flaming out. It was weird, since you’d never seen Clark struggle before. He picked up things very easily.
“He’s fine,” Chloe said, taking you by surprise. “Why do you care?”
“Uhm… no reason, just saw you…” You couldn’t come up with any excuse. Normally Clark is the better one at keeping secrets. You definitely struggled. “Are you sure you’re fine, Clark?”
“Never better,” Clark said, even as Chloe tried to stop him. But he couldn’t stop, his eyes were focused on you, taking a step in your direction. You were surprised, and by reaction you took a step back. “What are you doing tonight?”
You frowned. “I’m… busy,” you said, raising your eyebrows, as if letting him know why you were busy. Because he knew you were seeing him tonight. Didn’t he? “I better go,” you said, confused, turning to look at Chloe. “Nice talking to you guys,” you mumbled before turning around and walking away.
Chloe stood next to Clark as they both watched you walking back to your table. The blonde looked at her best friend with a mocking smile as he turned to look at her, confused by her expression.
“What?” He asked. “Did I do something weird?”
“If you call asking out the most popular girl in school after never having a conversation with her before in your life weird then yeah, you did something weird.”
“I don’t believe I’ve never done that before.” He turned to look at you again, your eyes staring at one another. “How could’ve been so close to a girl that beautiful and not done something before?”
“I didn’t know you even found her pretty.”
“If I ever felt a fraction of what I’m feeling now, then trust me… I did find her pretty.”
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Clark was definitely not expecting you. He quickly turned around once he heard you climbing through the window, surprised to see you in his room.
“You know,” you said as you stepped inside, chuckling tiredly. “Still, after doing this every night, I still get dizzy once I reach a certain height.” You looked at him, noticing how confused, yet mesmerized he was. “Everything okay?”
“It’s you,” he said, surprised, dropping his book on the bed and standing up, approaching you.
“It’s me,” you repeated, snorting. “Are you okay? You’re acting strange. Asking me out in front of Chloe was bold, to say the least.” You crossed your arms in front of your chest. “I mean, I thought you were okay with keeping us a secret for a while, at least until end of school when my parents chill out with the whole strict thing, and you find out… well… more about what you are. Also, what was with the pirotecnia back at the Talon? I thought you had your heat vision under control.”
“You know about me?” Clark asked.
“Yes, Clark, I’m your girlfriend. Whats going on?”
“I knew it was impossible you weren’t part of my life,” he mumbled to himself. “I lost my memories this morning. I woke up in an alley not even knowing my own name. And Chloe has been helpful and all, but… look, when I saw you…”
“You lost your memories?”
“When I saw you,” he insisted, approaching you. “I just knew. I so knew you were… something. The way I felt… it was too strong for you to be a stranger in my life.” He grabbed your hands, stroking the back of them with his thumbs. “Please, tell me everything. I want to know about you and me.”
And that’s how, under the light of the moon, you told Clark about the two of you, about the things you did without anyone knowing, about the way you two loved each other, about how understanding he was of your parents.
And right there, even if he couldn’t remember himself, you were the thing he was certain about.
summary: when you outright ask Clark why you haven't had sex yet, he avoids you like the plague, unsure how to deal with that conversation
warnings: 18+ minors dni, virgin! clark kent, loss of virginity, unprotected sex (p in v), clark is a munch and a giver yuhhhh, oral m+f, jonathan being a dilf
a/n: this is barely proof read my bad but i'm a firm believer that clark never swears or curses he's a good boy
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"Are you a virgin?"
Forgoing the bush-beating, you came out and asked the question that lingered on your tongue for the last month or so. It wasn't an accusation or a demand, but something like that was daunting for both parties and required a level of trust.
Hay scratched the backs of your legs as Clark pulled away from you, his weight no longer pressing you against the stacked hay bales. His brows knitted and his nose wrinkled, staring at you in telling silence.
With kiss-bitten lips, you smiled up at him, running your hands up his stomach and across his shoulders, "It's not a problem, Clark. I'd just rather know."
"No no I understand," He stepped away from you, tugging his flannel shirt over the front of his jeans, no longer eager and wanting. His lack of answer told you everything you needed to know.
"I'm gonna... I haven't-" Clark fumbled for an excuse as he retreated down the steps of the barn.
"Clark-" You called after him, but he was almost gone, "I need to do my chores before my dad gets back."
Sighing, you watched as Clark's figure grew smaller and smaller the further he disappeared into the Kent farm's fields. Maybe you should have beat around the bush a little.
But it was a fair question. Clark Kent was obsessively yearning for Lana Lang for almost your entire friendship, and in that time, no other girls were on his radar. Apart from a brief thing with Chloe, which was heavily one-sided, Clark only had eyes for Lana, practically salivating and wagging his tail whenever she was around.
That was until it became evident that they were never in the right place at the right time, never saying the right thing or reacting the right way. That's what you chalked your thing with Clark up to, right time and right place. Freshly single and unable to get a hold of Chloe, you found yourself at Clark's barn for a shoulder to cry on and he was there, wallowing in his own self-pity after another fight with Lana.
He kissed you that night. All thoughts of your ex-boyfriend and Lana escaped you, as you melted into him; his warmth, his strong body and soft skin, a welcome intrusion to your pity party.
You agreed to keep it a secret. Despite her brave face, Chloe would be heart-broken if she knew and the will-they-won't-they dance with Lana was already far too complicated, years of back and forth with no result. And you didn't want your ex-boyfriend to tell everyone that you were a slut, moving on so fast.
Months passed with sly touches in the halls and make out sessions in the dark corners of Smallville. Chloe was adamant that you were dating someone and not telling her, teasing you relentlessly every time you were late and flustered or rushing off in high spirits.
After the incident in the barn, Clark pulled away a little. Being a virgin was nothing to be ashamed of but Clark avoided the topic of sex like it was a disease. He didn't linger on your casual touches and made excuses to stay in the group.
After the school week passed, you resorted to ambushing him at the farm as dusk crept across the sky. Tossing bales of hay into the bed of the truck, you slowly approached him, like a horse prone to being spooked, "Hi Clark."
"Hi," He barely acknowledged you, slamming the truck door closed and loading the last of the hay onto the pile. Before you could speak, Jonathan emerged from the barn, unstrapping his work gloves, "Hi honey, I didn't know you were stopping by."
"Hi Mr Kent. I left my chemistry notes, thought I'd say hi," You gave a kind smile, knowing that the Kents absolutely adored you.
Martha approached the truck from the house, a stack of baked goods in her arms, "Well we're glad you did. Maybe you can get this one out of his funk."
Clark gave a weak smile and fought the urge to glance at you. His parents climbed into the truck, his mother cupping his cheek as she said goodbye.
"We'll be back late, okay?" Martha said over the roar of the engine as Jonathan turned the key in the ignition, "There's a lasagna in the oven and the Stapleton's phone number is by the phone if there's an emergency."
"Thanks, mom. See you later," Clark waved them off as you called after them, "Bye Mr and Mrs Kent. Have fun!"
The bright red truck pulled around the corner and Clark wondered off. Scoffing and scurrying after him, you yelled, "Clark! You can't ignore me forever!"
"Watch me," He muttered before he disappeared into the cornfield, leaving you all alone in the heart of the Kent farm. The adorable yellow house that Mr Kent built himself was a stone's throw from where Clark left you, and in that moment, you decided the ambush wasn't over.
Garlic and tomato wafted in the air as you stepped into the kitchen, a sudden hankering for lasagna clawing at your stomach. Mrs Kent made the best food. Clark never took long to do his chores, even the ones on the other side of the farm, so you hurried to his bedroom.
Clark Kent's bedroom was a boy scout's dream; flannel bedding and curtains, wooden panel walls with a mismatched overflowing bookshelf and closet, an American flag hanging on one wall and posters on the others, clothes littering the worn carpet.
The shower turned on, the water hitting the base of the tub, before you even realised Clark was back from the farm. He was only five minutes before the water switched off, enough time for you to overthink the decision to camp out in his bedroom like a goddamn stalker.
"Good gosh," Clark cried, flinching in the doorway as he registered your presence, idly flicking through the books on his nightstand, the orange glow of the lamp casting your shadow on the far wall, "What are you doing here?"
"I-" You started, turning to him and the words fell from your mind as he stood there, dripping wet with only a towel to cover his lower half, "I told you, you can't ignore me forever."
Clark exhaled a long breath, evading your gaze, as he grabbed some flannel pyjama pants and a t-shirt, "Turn around."
Doing as he said, you faced the wall and lost the fight against your own grin, "Look Clark, all I have wanted to say was I'm sorry. I shouldn't have gone into that conversation so bluntly. I just-"
"You can turn around now," He interjected, now dressed and scrubbing his wet locks with the towel.
"I want to have sex with you Clark. And if that's the reason that we haven't than that's fine, but if it's another reason than I think we should talk about it," You concluded, fidgeting with the rings on your fingers. Being so open about it was uncomfortable, a spotlight on your inner wants and feelings... You understood why Clark was so freaked out being put on the spot.
"You wanna have sex with me?" Clark couldn't fight the grin twitching at his lips, his pearly white canines flashing.
Rolling your eyes, you shoved his stomach playfully, knowing he wouldn't go anywhere even if you used all of your might. Tossing his towel on the floor, Clark cleared his throat, pink splotches appearing up his neck, "I wanna have sex with you too... now that I know you're not making fun of me."
"Never, Clarkie," You grabbed his shirt and pulled him against you, and he let you, bodies pressing together. Rising to your tiptoes and cupping his jaw, you kissed him and he was frozen in place, tentatively kissing you back until you tangled your fingers into the curls at the nape of his neck.
Clark kissed you with fervour and desperation, his fumbling hands sliding up your thighs, fingertips digging into your supple skin. Pulling back from the kiss, Clark chased your lips, his eyes fluttering open to see you smiling at him. He licked his kiss-bitten lips and stared in awe as you lay back on his bed. Clark didn't waste a second before clambering on top of you and capturing your lips with his.
Soft sheets and fluffy pillows cushioned you as Clark pressed you into the mattress, the weight of him stealing your breath from your lungs. Once you got started, it was hard to stop.
Clark pushed his tongue into your mouth, as if his passion compensated for his inexperience. He refrained from grabbing at you, only the needy pawing of his hand at your hip.
With a final swipe of his tongue, you pulled away to see him look down at you with hooded eyes and panting breaths, his mouth hung open as he tried to settle his breathing.
"You're perfect," He whispered, almost as if he was speaking to himself. Warm lips pressed against the sensitive skin of your neck, open-mouthed kisses laden with slow seduction and intention quickly devolved into sloppy and unabashed licking and sucking, red marks blooming beneath his hot mouth.
Soft gasps and moans escaped you as he laved at your collarbone, his fingers gripping your hip tighter, dropping closer to palming your ass. With hooded eyes, you let Clark explore you, sucking your earlobe into his mouth and pulling your thighs tight around his waist, grinding his hard cock against you.
Clark kissed across your collarbone before messily kissing up your neck and dominating your mouth, his tongue pushing against yours between the collision of your lips.
Like a well-oiled machine, Clark kissed you and kissed you, his body pressed tightly to yours. After months of being together, this was very familiar and very welcome.
As he showered you in attention, you ran your fingers through his hair, pulling at the strands and guiding him away from your lips. Swallowing a lungful of air, Clark met your eyes and panted, "You okay?"
Sitting back on your elbows, you watched with a shit-eating smirk as Clark lifted onto his arms to hover over you. Your legs wrapped tightly around him as you bucked your hips and flipped him onto his back, situating yourself on his lap.
Taking in the sight of you, Clark bit his lip and kneaded your thighs. Your fingers curled around the hem of his t-shirt, "Take this off." Clark obeyed, helping you tug his shirt over his head and toss the material aside. He stared up at you, smiling like he was already fucked out, panting with kiss-bitten lips.
"So handsome Clark," You trailed your fingers along his newly exposed skin. His body was defined and athletic, the tendons and muscles under his skin rippled with every movement, tensing at each touch and warm under your hands.
Clark's lips parted in waiting whilst you admired his body, all taut muscle and farm-tanned skin. His stomach jumped as your fingertips trailed over his defined abs.
His flannel pyjamas were tented between you and he was too far gone to care. You grinned, watching his face as you teased each twitch and flex from his body. Your fingertips worked their way up his stomach and chest, stroking the nape of his neck as he swallowed thickly.
Clark cupped the base of your skull in one hand, meeting you halfway as he captured your lips in a passion-fuelled kiss, pushing his other hand underneath your shirt and caressing the curve of your spine.
Licking into his mouth, you swallowed his groans as you dragged your nails down his chest, dropping your hands to play with the drawstring of his pyjama pants.
"Not yet, not yet," Clark panted, meeting your eyes, his pupils almost eclipsing the familiar blue. His forehead nuzzled against your neck as he gulped down oxygen, his lips pink and plump.
"You don't like special attention?" You cooed, playing with his hair and pressing soft kisses to his jaw. Clark shook his head against you, his eyes shut as a small whimper escaped his lips.
A smirk tugged at the corners of your lips, pulling down the strap of your tank top and letting Clark kiss the exposed skin, his large hands pressed to your lower back.
"What was that? You don't?" You pouted teasingly and nipped at his jaw. Clark licked his lips and shook his head, "I like it. I like special attention. Don't- don't want to disappoint you."
He pried his eyes open, although they were hooded and misty, and met your gaze. Blush bloomed up his neck, deepening as you whispered in his ear, tugging at the lobe, "Good boy. That wasn't so hard."
Clark whined as you sat back, stroking his hair with one hand and tugging your shirt over your head with the other. Red marks on your skin began to turn purple, a reminder that Clark staked his claim on you.
With a bruising grip on your hips, Clark stared at you, ogling at the newly exposed skin and the unforgettable image of you in a bra. It was one of your fancy ones from a Metropolis lingerie boutique that, if opened in Smallville, would be the subject of a town meeting.
"You like?" You brushed strands of his dark hair out of his eyes and leaned back, one arm around his neck. Clark nodded in a daze, his unwavering stare, "Sorry I've just- not done this much."
"Stare all you want."
Kneading the curves of your back, Clark lunged forward and kissed you with fervour, sliding his hand underneath the clasp of your bra and digging his fingers into your warm skin.
Taking his wrists, you guided his hands to your chest, kissing him through the hesitation of touching you. Heated make outs had gone this far before but it seemed the pressure of your early conversation was rattling around boy wonder's mind.
As he palmed your clothed tits, you tugged the straps off your shoulders and unclasped your bra, pleasantly surprised when Clark tossed the garment aside and smoothed his warm hands against them.
Your nipples pebbled at the crisp air and Clark softly pushed you onto the bed, his warm mouth littering kisses there.
"This okay?" Clark asked cautiously, dragging his bottom lip across your chest, sucking one of the buds into his mouth. Fisting his hair, you nodded desperately, "Yes Clark, please."
This was the furthest you and Clark had ever gone. The primal push and pull of want was unfiltered and unrestrained this time.
Needy hands mapped across your heated skin, groping and smoothing across your curves. With an open mouth spilling moans and whines, you watched as Clark worked his mouth along your chest and lowered down your stomach. Your body moved instinctively, carding your fingers through Clark's locks and clawing at his back.
"Can I?" Clark asked softly, crouching between your legs, the sight making you inhale sharply, "This is supposed to be about you, Clark."
Kissing your hipbone, he grinned up at you, his hair spiking up in all different directions. Playfully rolling your eyes, you nodded.
Prompted into action, Clark stroked your inner thigh and unfastened your skirt and pulling the denim from your body, lowering his body to the mattress between your legs. Discarded clothes piled up at the bottom of the bed, blending in with the already messy floor.
Clark pressed open-mouthed kisses to your inner thighs, his broad shoulders forcing your legs to spread to accommodate him. The unwavering attention from him had your chest heaving and blood racing, fingers tugging at his thick locks. By the rapid thumping of your heart, it might as well be your first time, not his.
His tongue licked and sucked at the heated, sensitive spots of your thighs and hipbones. Soft mewls and pants escaped your lips, the body heat from him unbearable as his strong grip on your hips pressed you against the mattress.
Clark smoothed his hands under the waistband of your panties, rubbing at the flesh of your hips and palming your ass.
"Please?" tumbled from Clark's lips as he pressed a soft kiss to your lower stomach, tugging the material of your panties between his teeth. A soft moan escaped you as you propped yourself onto your elbows to meet Clark's eyes. Oh fuck he was going to ruin you.
"Yeah," You croaked, desire overriding your senses and inhibitions. Watching him with a slack jaw and eyes hooded, Clark tugged your panties down your legs and buried his face into your pussy.
A loud moan erupted from you as he licked and sucked at you, as if he had a point to prove. The incessant string of moans, whines and gasps jerked his concentration away from your pussy, glancing up to watch your face contort in pleasure.
Clark's kiss-bitten lips were slick with you and somehow a deeper shade of pink. A strong arm clamped over your hips, taming the twitching and jolting as pleasure twanged through you. With his other hand, he trailed his fingers along your inner thigh before pushing a finger into you, sucking at your clit as he pumped the digit into you experimentally.
Sweat beaded at your temples, a sheen of perspiration sticking your skin to Clark and his bed sheets.
Adding another finger, Clark stroked his fingers against your slick wall as he sucked and laved at your bud, and you let out a high-pitched moan. Your toes curled as he hit every spot just right, stars clouding your vision and a coil pulling taut within you.
Scrambling for purchase, one hand tugged at the unkempt strands of Clark's hair and the other clawed at the flannel sheets of his bed. Lost in the feeling, Clark groaned against you and the band within you snapped, shuddering moans tumbling from your lips as you harshly dug your nails into Clark's skin.
At first, you appreciated his enthusiasm to put you first but now you were never letting him go.
Heaving chests pressed together as Clark kissed his way up your naked body and kissed your lips softly, "Thank you."
"I should be saying that to you," You managed between deep breaths, trying to come back down to Earth, "Holy shit Clark."
Blushing for a whole other reason, Clark lay on his side, pressed against you and brushed your hair behind your ears, "It was good?"
A laugh erupted from you, staring at him in disbelief. Cupping his clean-shaven jaw, you dragged his lips to yours, tasting yourself on his tongue, as you passionately claimed him.
Smoothing a hand down Clark's chest and abdomen, you palmed him over his flannel pyjama pants and dipped your hand underneath the material, stroking him. Moans and whines passed between you, as you tipped Clark onto his back and lowered his pants to his thighs.
Kicking them off, he lay back against the pillows and waited with bated breath for you to touch him again. From previous make outs, you knew Clark was well-endowed, his hard cock pressing against you after a few minutes of kissing, but facing the sheer length and girth had you swallowing thickly.
Wrapping your hand around him again, you stroked him, giggling at his stomach tensing and brows knitting at the new sensation. Clark bit his lip, fighting the sounds that he deemed too salacious for the preamble to a handjob. His attempts were futile when you dropped your mouth onto him, licking the shaft and swirling your tongue around the tip.
Sitting up and carding his fingers through your hair, Clark almost doubled over as you bobbed your head, taking him down your throat. A fumble of moans and whimpers tumbled from his swollen lips, his brows knit together, "Oh my... I can't- not gonna-"
Pulling off him, you smiled up at him, "Everything alright, Clark?" The saccharine sweet grin had him crumbling.
"It's good, really good, but..." Clark trailed off, his chest heaving as he drew in deep breaths. The stretch of him in your mouth was already causing an ache in the hinge of your jaw so, with an unexpected mercy, you kissed him softly, "You sure you wanna keep going?"
Nodding quickly, Clark swallowed thickly and caressed your cheek, rubbing his thumb across the apple of your cheek, pink with exertion. A soft smile reached his eyes as he licked his lips, fighting to let the words out. Scratching your nails through his hair, you encouraged him with a pointed look.
"Can I be on top?" He asked shyly, "I know you've got more ex- experience but I wanna try, for you."
Your heart melted at his sincerity and oh god you love Clark Kent.
With a soft nod, Clark kissed you and lowered your back against the mattress, manoeuvring himself between your legs. Large and capable hands caressed your body, palming your tits and hips, as he kissed you with everything he had.
Hooking your legs over his hips, Clark reached between you and guided his cock to your entrance, groaning at the wetness there and spreading it along his shaft.
"Sorry," he mumbled as he struggled to push into you. Reaching between you, you guided him like a lighthouse to a ship in uncharted waters. A low groan came from deep in his chest as he pressed the first few inches into you. A sharp gasp met his groan as the stretch of him stung a little.
Even though you weren't a virgin, you had only been with your last boyfriend a handful of times.
"Too much?" Clark asked despite the cloud of pleasure fogging his senses, mouth hung open and hips edging to go deeper, as deep as possible, "I can pull- pull out."
Shaking your head, you gripped the strong planes of his back, "Keep going baby." Clark crowded you, his weight pressing you into the mattress and his arms beside your head, caging you in place until your body adjusted to him.
Holding most of his weight on his knees, Clark held your spread legs in place and slid further into you, bottoming out. A ragged moan shuddered from him as he fought to keep his eyes open and his gaze on you.
The burn began to subside as Clark collected himself, hot flushes rippling across the both of you as he pulled his hips back and thrust into you.
Sweat beaded on your skin the more Clark fucked into you. His big cock splitting you open with every pound of his hips against yours.
"Ahh god... mmhm feels so good... ahh please," Clark rambled, the floodgates of his desire forced open like a tidal wave of want, his forehead pressed to yours, "So good... s'good".
Stealing a kiss, you knocked him out of his reverie and Clark claimed your lips with frenzied fervour. His tongue swiped against yours, swallowing every moan and whine like it was a currency only his body could cash in. Sweaty skin rubbed together, sticking you and him together as if you were absorbing into one.
With that coil within you pulling taut again, it felt like you were absorbing one another, unable to tell where you ended and he began. A hard thrust drew a loud gasp from you and Clark's arrhythmic hips stuttered, his pleasure overriding his self-control.
"Cum again... Please cum for me," Clark pleaded weakly, "Feels so good, so warm and- and tight." Hot breath panted against your neck as Clark tried to keep his pace, ultimately failing and dragging his thumb over your clit in an attempt to draw as much pleasure from you as possible.
Sweat-slicked and arousal-coated, your end drew closer and closer. Droplets of sweat dripped down the nape of his neck, his lips collided with yours as the coil within you snapped, harder and more drawn out than the first time.
Clark's hips stuttered, the sounds of your moans in his ear, as he finished inside of you, a long deep groan against your neck. Laying in silence, you were a tangle of sweaty, sated limbs. A soft chuckle vibrated against your skin, as Clark pressed onto his elbows, hovering over you.
He was glowing. His huge grin, so deep his dimples popped, and rosy red cheeks illuminated his face. Two-hundred muscular pounds of pure, unadulterated joy.
"Have fun?" You grinned, still attempting to catch your breath as you reached up and cupped his jaw. Clark dipped his head and kissed you, struggling to hide his toothy grin, adorable canines on show.
He nodded, still fighting a smile, like he'd slept with a hanger in his mouth, "Did you?" Despite the encounter being about him, or supposed to be, he was pre-occupied with you.
Kissing him deeply, Clark got your message and pulled away, grinning. You stroked his sweaty skin, "C'mon we should shower."
Clark didn't stop grinning at you for the whole night. Maybe he faltered when he pulled out and you winced, but after hearing you laugh, his big toothy grin was back in full force.
Sharing a shower with Clark was fun. Groping hands and stolen kisses between turns under the stream, his big hands lathering soap over your sex-soaked skin.
Watching a movie with Clark was also fun. Wearing some of his sweats and sharing the lasagna that his mother left in the oven, you cuddled into his side and laughed along to the chick flick he reluctantly put on for you.
Spending the night with Clark was even more fun. Cuddling with him as he curled around your back, keeping you warm and safe in his arms. He smelt like sandalwood and the musky body wash from the shower.
It was more than fun when he whispered into the dark that he loved you, surprised when you jumped to face him, elated by his confession. Sharing 'I love yous' between kisses until you fell asleep in his arms.
The next morning was not so fun, when Jonathan banged on Clark's bedroom door.
"Clark, you're over an hour late! We've got the farmer's market in twenty minutes," Clark's dad's deep voice boomed through the door. With sleep in his eyes, Clark covered your mouth and shushed you before hauling himself to the bedroom door.
"Sorry," Clark blundered, opening the door and scrubbing at his eyes, "Must have slept in."
It was impossible to avoid the consequences as Jonathan assessed his son and peered into the room, the door open an inch too wide. Your discarded clothes lay in a pile on the floor behind Clark. Jonathan pressed the door open with one hand, but the door resisted under Clark's strong hold.
Mr Kent gave his son a pointed look and Clark reluctantly let go of the door. More of the room came into view as the door creaked open a little, exposing you as you stood at the end of Clark's bed trying to be silent.
"Morning Mr Kent," You forced yourself to say. Jonathan glanced to Clark before storming downstairs, undoubtedly to tell his wife exactly what he just saw, "YOU TWO, KITCHEN TABLE, NOW!"
Clark sighed and, despite all the shit that was about to rain down on him, he struggled to hide his grin, turning to you and laughing at the sheer panic in your eyes.
His laughter was infectious, as he wrapped his arms around you and kissed you softly, "This might not be the welcome to the family that you hoped for."
"That's okay," You smiled up at him, "I know how you can make it up to me."
"Oh, I'm never allowed out ever again," Clark teased, laughing as you playfully roll your eyes, "I thought that was clear when my dad saw your panties on the floor."
"Seriously?" You cringed, staring down at the most whorish underwear that you owned. So much for your squeaky clean reputation with the Kents.
