After that, Kara adjusts her approach in finding prospective matches for Lena. Now, she looks for a different kind of compatibility, and in searching with these different parameters, she stumbles across Jack S.
He's charming, intelligent, handsome-- and adjacent to the world Lena operates in, if not actually one of them. Close enough that he'd be accepted into the fold if he enters on Lena's arm, but not yet integrated the point of the incestuousness that Lena has sometimes complained about when Kara finds matches in men she's gone to school with, grown up with during a lifetime of enduring the same parties through the years.
Plus, he's looking for companionship, if not a passionate love story. He wants someone to come home to, to spend time with, to simply love. His own wishlist is vague in the way initial interviews usually go-- less about particulars and more about the vibe. The more specific requirements usually come after a few failed dates.
He wants someone smart, fun, kind. All qualities that Lena fits to a tee.
In short, a perfect match.
When Jack S. and Lena L. agree to a first date, Kara feigns happiness-- this time, she feels a sinking feeling that she's done her job too well, and that the next time she sees Lena, it won't come with the usual nay.
Her doubts prove true when Lena arrives to their standing coffee session (not a date, Kara has reminded herself firmly) with a wide smile and twinkling eyes.
"He's great," Lena breathes as soon as she sweeps into her seat. In her excitement, she hasn't even ordered a drink.
Kara swallows her disappointment, and pastes on a smile. "Tell me about him."
"Charming, to be sure. It'd be almost irritating, if he wasn't so damn charming about it. Surprisingly funny-- you know, I think it's been months since I've genuinely smiled during a date."
"Oh?"
Lena's eyes light up. "And Spheerical Industries is working on incredible projects! He's currently programming nanites to detect and treat cancer! It's fascinating-- I may have to convince Lex to invest in the project..."
Lena rambles on-- how they'd barely eaten for talking so much, how she'd been surprised when their waiter informed them the restaurant was closing... how they'd continued the night at a local speakeasy he knew.
"He's going to call," Lena warns confidently. "And the answer is yes-- I'd like to see him again."
Kara blinks in surprise, then covers it with a nod. "Okay, then. Let's do this."
---
Naturally, as Lena spends time with Jack, her time with Kara dwindles. Not to a trickle, but enough for Kara to notice, and feel the lack of Lena like a draining sieve. Soon, she knows, their time together will filter down to nothing, and cease altogether the day they say "I do". Which-- from Kara's perspective-- is inevitable.
As the months pass, Kara sees Lena grow closer to Jack, sees her happiness build, and she feels that fateful day of matrimony march ever closer. Lena no longer complains about the various functions she's expected to attend, now that she has a partner to stand with. She not only gets Lex to invest in Spheerical Industries, but becomes an unofficial consultant as she spends her nights with Jack in the lab, parsing through data sets and lab reports like she's in grad school again.
She never says explicitly that she loves Jack, but it's clear to Kara that Lena loves the time she spends with him.
Slowly, silently, Kara begins to let Lena go.
Then, one year after Kara arranged their first, she sits alone in her apartment, nursing one dejected glass of wine too many, knowing exactly what date it is, and the anniversary it tolls. She's shaken out of her misery by a knock on her front door, and surprise washes through her at the sight of Lena through the peephole.
She scrambles with the locks and quickly ushers Lena inside. It takes several moments for Kara to see past her shock and recognize Lena's subdued expression. Her friend places her purse on Kara's kitchen island, but her coat stays on, and she shifts from one foot to the other like she's on the verge of bolting back out the door.
"What's wrong?" Kara asks, alarm flooding through her. "Did Jack--"
"He proposed."
Lena's voice sounds flat, pitched low in the dim light Kara had been sulking in moments ago. Kara blinks against sudden tears.
"Oh... Congratulations--"
"I haven't accepted," Lena interrupts again with a shake of her head. "Not... not yet."
Kara's brow furrows in confusion. "But-- I thought you liked him?"
"I do. But as a friend. My best friend."
Jealousy sparks in Kara's gut, dark and sinister.
"Which is strange," Lena continues, "considering I already have one."
Kara's eyes lock with Lena's. She can barely breathe at the intensity of Lena's gaze, and something dangerous kindles to life in Kara's chest.
"Lena, I..."
"It's then I realized... what I feel for Jack is different from how I feel for you. How I've always felt."
All thought evaporates from Kara's mind. She gapes, silently.
"I told Jack. That I'm... that I'd never love him romantically. And you know what he said?"
Kara shakes her head dumbly.
"He said 'me too'."
Jesus. Kara hadn't picked up on that either. Not even an inkling. She's really going to have to rethink her interview questions--
"But he didn't mind. He was looking for the same things I was-- companionship, maybe even affection... but someone he could build a life with regardless."
Finally, Kara's ability to speak returns. "But then... isn't that perfect?"
Lena shakes her head. "He deserves better that," she says softly. "He deserves more."
Silence stretches, as Kara struggles to make sense of... all of it. She doesn't know if Lena notices, because she continues without looking at Kara, studying instead the grain of the butcher block island.
"Which made me think.... if I don't want that for him... why should I want it for myself?"
"Lena...." Kara breathes. A lump locks her throat, and she strains to pull in a breath.
"I do want more, Kara." Lena finally looks at her, her eyes gleaming a dark, impossible green. "And I want.... I want you."
Summary: You've been staying late at the office recently to take advantage of the building's gym shower while no one else is around. But one night, your boss, Harry Castillo, is there, too.
Warnings: Explicit! I don't know what to tell you other than this is smut. Minors DNI
Author's Note: Based on real life struggles with shitty hot water heaters, daydreams about working in New York for Harry Castillo, and silly conversations with @theinvinciblekay. This was written before Materialists was released, so forgive any inaccuracies of Harry's character. This stupid idea got way out of hand.
AO3
It was 5:47pm, and you were still seated at your desk, staring at an email without really seeing the words on the screen. The other desks and offices had been vacated nearly an hour ago, except for one: Harry Castillo’s. Your boss.
You glanced over the top of your monitor to the glass wall that offered an unimpeded view into Harry’s office. He was seated at his desk with his elbows propped on the tabletop, one hand holding the phone to his ear while the other absently rubbed the spot between his eyebrows. The spot where a crease always formed when his brow furrowed, a sure sign that a headache was forming. He was stressed.
No one could fault you for noticing. It was your job to know when Harry was stressed. If Harry was stressed, that meant you weren’t doing your job well enough. You hadn’t scheduled the call, but you had passed it through to Harry’s desk at 4:15pm. When the most important client called out of the blue, you had considered it to be worth taking. You just hadn’t expected it to be a nearly-two-hour-long phone call.
Harry’s eyes flicked up, catching yours. He sat back in his chair, and you saw his chest rise with a deep intake of air and then fall, his cheeks puffing out in an exaggerated exhale. He had his shirt sleeves rolled up past his elbows and the top few buttons of his crisp white button-down open at the collar. He shook the phone receiver and rolled his eyes. You grimaced and mouthed the word “sorry” back at him.
Harry spoke into the phone and reached for his keyboard. A single brown curl fell out of place and flopped against his forehead as he tilted his head to hold the receiver in place with his shoulder. His fingers tapped at the keys, and a second later, your own computer chimed. A new chat window appeared.
HarryCastillo: not your fault
HarryCastillo: what are you still doing here?
You: I’m your assistant. I’m assisting.
You were unable to help the smirk that the little inside joke always brought to your face. It was a common phrase that had developed between you and Harry. You’d say it whenever you brought him a coffee or a bagel from the place he liked on mornings before a big meeting because you knew he had a habit of skipping breakfast. Or when you swung by the dry cleaner’s to pick up his suits. He’d say it to you when he’d call you into his office and ask for advice about what color tie to wear to a charity gala or what sort of flowers Lucy might like. When you’d roll your eyes and complain that his love life was not in your job description, he’d fix you with those big brown eyes of his and say, “You’re my assistant, aren’t you? Assist.”
You glanced up at his profile and saw the corner of his mouth lift as he read your message. Before he could respond you wrote again,
You: Everything okay?
HarryCastillo: Yes. You know how Leonard gets. I’ll talk him down.
Harry Castillo: Everything okay with you?
The question caught you off guard, and your eyes flicked back up to the man behind the glass. He was already watching you, and when he saw you peer over your computer, he raised one eyebrow, questioning.
Harry was kind, and you got along great. On the few occasions you had spent time around him outside of these glass walls - office holiday parties, mostly - you found him to be funny, charming, and even a little flirtatious once the alcohol was flowing. Dangerously so, considering he also happened to be rather handsome.
You’d been working with him for over two years now, and you probably knew more about the man than he even realized given your unique view into his life.
You knew that on Tuesday nights, he usually drove out of the city to have dinner with his sister and her family at her home. You knew that he had occasional back pain, and you knew whenever it was bothering him because appointments with a chiropractor would appear in your shared schedule. You knew that he had met a woman named Lucy at his brother’s wedding last fall and that he had started to take her out to expensive restaurants. You also knew that the fancy dinners had stopped about a month ago.
You knew so much about the man’s life outside of work, and yet the idea of him knowing even one detail about yours made you cringe. Your life was very different from his. You typed out your response and hit enter on the keyboard.
You: Of course!
The exclamation point was too much. It looked forced to you, too much enthusiasm for a simple question, and you glared at the blatant lie on the screen before remembering that Harry could see you. You lowered your head, hiding your expression behind the privacy of the monitor. There was another ping from the computer speakers.
HarryCastillo: You should head home. It’s getting late.
You frowned but couldn’t think of a polite way to refuse a direct order from your boss.
You: If you insist.
You shut down your computer and gathered your belongings. Phone, purse, lunchbox, laptop bag. You bent to open the bottom drawer of your desk, pulling out yet another small bag, discreetly hidden beneath some extra yellow legal pads, and tucked it under your arm.
You stood and immediately felt Harry’s gaze on you. You paused momentarily, feeling awkwardly cumbersome with your arms loaded with so many bags. Unable to wave goodbye, you wiggled a finger in his direction. A warm smile spread across Harry’s face at that, making little crinkles at the corners of his eyes. You could see his silent chuckle. He curled his finger back at you, mimicking your goodbye gesture.
You turned toward the elevator before your blushing cheeks could give you away, because fuck, if that wasn’t the cutest thing. You bumped the elevator call button with your hip and willed the butterflies in your stomach to calm down.
Okay, so you had a little crush on your boss. It was harmless. At first. But then you started having feelings. Feelings that intensified whenever he praised you for keeping his life together for him, throwing out a “I’d be lost without you” as you held up the documents he nearly forgot as he headed out the door. Feelings that made your mouth go dry and your heartbeat skip when he sent a secret wink your way through the glass wall between your desks during a meeting because you had surreptitiously passed him a slip of paper with the name of the client’s wife or favorite baseball team, earning him points for always being so personable. Feelings that were entirely unprofessional when you caught him staring at your ass as you stretched in your yoga pants during the company’s charity fun run event. And then they had turned to nasty, jealous, hurt feelings when Lucy had come along. You caught yourself copping an attitude with Harry on more than one occasion for no reason other than the imagined slight.
That was when you knew it wasn’t just a fun game anymore. You had to quit the office romance fantasies before it cost you your job. So you squashed those feelings and stopped pining after your boss. You got over it. Or, at least, you told yourself you did.
You could feel his eyes on you as you entered the elevator, and you refused to turn back in his direction until the door had slid shut behind you. Only once you were hidden from his sight, did you turn and press the button for floor sixteen.
The sixteenth floor was a common space for the building. It opened to a spacious lounge, with modern chairs and sofas for groups to sit and chat, and there were vending machines and a self-serve coffee station on one wall. Down the hall were several conference rooms, a gym, and even a rec room with foosball and a ping pong table. You had been told all about the perks of the sixteenth floor on your first day in the building, but you didn’t know a single person who actually used the facilities here.
The gym was your destination. The room had to be unlocked using an authorized ID badge, and as you approached the door, you shifted the items in your hands, trying to wrestle the keycard from where it hung on the lanyard around your neck. It was not a graceful act, and you were grateful that the entire floor seemed to be empty. Especially when, one after the other, your belongings tumbled to the ground. You grumbled and finally untangled the lanyard and pulled it over your head. You swiped the card in the reader beside the door, The LEDs flashed green, and the door unlocked with an audible click. You pulled it open, then scooped your bags up into your arms. A quick sweep of the room revealed that the gym was not occupied. You relaxed slightly. Equipped with a couple of treadmills, a stationary bike, a weight machine, some yoga balls in one corner and an assortment of free weights lined up along a mirrored wall, it was a pretty nice perk. You felt a little guilty for not using it to its full intended purpose. It always felt like a gamble whether someone else would be using the gym so soon after the work day ended, and you normally preferred to wait until later in the evening, when there was less chance of running into someone, so you wouldn’t have to explain your little secret to anyone.
You slipped into one of the two changing rooms and locked the door. It was, essentially, just a regular bathroom, except for one crucial feature that no other restrooms in the building had: a shower. You dropped your things on the counter and turned on the water, letting it get nice and warm, while you stripped out of your work clothes. Stepping into the water, you closed your eyes and tried to let yourself fully relax. This had become your secret ritual over the past two weeks. It had been borne from necessity, the first time you stayed late and ventured into the building’s gym to shower. You thought about maybe taking up exercise as a hobby. It would definitely make it less weird to be using the shower at work almost every single night.
You reached for your travel-size shampoo on the shower’s built-in shelf, but your fingers only touched the empty ledge. Realizing you hadn’t grabbed your toiletries from your bag before getting into the shower, you popped your head around the curtain. It wasn’t in the pile on the counter either. You mentally retraced your steps. You definitely remembered taking it out of your desk, tucking it under your arm, and then… oh, no. You must have missed picking it up after your fumble with the gym door. You groaned and stepped out of the shower, pulling out the clean towel you had stashed inside your laptop bag and wrapping it around your torso. It was small, barely hanging down past your ass cheeks, but the important bits were covered. You’d just have to be quick.
You opened the door to the changing room and bounded out, the balls of your feet hitting the hard rubber gym floor. You opened the door to the gym and peered into the hallway. The coast was clear, and there, just outside the door, sat your little blue toiletry bag. You bent down and grabbed it.
There was the distinct sound of a throat clearing from behind you.
You let out a frightened squeak and straightened, spinning as the door slammed shut behind your back. You clutched the bag to your chest, wide eyes locking straight onto your boss’s equally shocked expression.
“Uh, hey,” Harry said. He was seated, straddling the weight bench, dressed in gym clothes with a towel flung over one shoulder. You felt mortified as you realized that, from his vantage point, he must have seen everything.
“Oh my god! Harry, I- I’m so sorry!” You stammered, words tumbling from your mouth. “I didn’t know you worked out. I mean, no, obviously - yeah, of course, you work out. Clearly. But not, here, at work. I mean,” you forced yourself to slow down and take a breath. “I just didn’t know you’d be here. It’s not on your schedule.”
Harry’s lips twitched into a half smile, and he chuckled. “Yeah, well, I don’t put everything on my schedule. A man’s gotta have some secrets.” He stood. “What about you?”
“What about me?” you asked, your mind frantically grasping for a way out.
“Haven’t seen you here before.”
“Well, um…” you mentally grasped at some excuse, but found it impossible to think with Harry staring at you while you stood, exposed and dripping, in front of him. You shrugged, and settled on the truth, “I’m just here for the shower. My landlord still hasn’t fixed the one in my apartment.”
“Oh. I see,” Harry said, nodding. He chewed at his upper lip and narrowed his eyes, as if some puzzle piece was slotting itself into place in his mind. “So, is this why you’ve been all stressed out and staying so late for the last two weeks?”
“You noticed that, huh?”
Harry huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, I noticed. You had me worried about you. Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I guess I was just embarrassed. I don’t exactly live in the nicest place, or have the money to move out of this crappy apartment.”
“You should have told me.”
“Why?”
“I could have helped. I do care about you, you know. You’re important, and you deserve to be taken care of.”
Your eyes prickled, threatening tears at the sincerity in Harry’s voice. He was being so nice, and you suddenly felt foolish for not thinking he’d understand. He stepped forward, eyes searching your face.
“Let me take care of you.”
Your eyes scanned Harry as if taking him in for the first time. His T-shirt was tightly stretched over his broad chest, and his arms were exposed, revealing biceps you had never seen beneath his usual long-sleeve button-up shirts. You thought about how well he could take care of you with those strong arms. You tried to avert your gaze to the floor but found yourself staring instead at Harry’s incredibly well-toned calves, and you bit the inside of your cheek, trying to quell the sudden desire to see what other delicious sights he’d been hiding under those tailored suits of his.
“What is it?” Harry asked, taking another step.
Your cheeks burned as you tried to come up with a lie. “I’ve just… never seen you in gym shorts before.”
He laughed and quirked an eyebrow. He moved closer, and you saw his tongue move along his teeth behind his lower lip as he contemplated something. His eyes trailed over the top of your barely concealed breasts and when they flicked back up to meet yours, they had gone dark. “Well, I’ve never seen you in just a towel before.” He was only inches away now, and he reached out, fingers trailing lightly up your arm and along your shoulder. His voice came out just above a whisper when he said, “What if I told you to drop it?”
Your breath hitched in your throat. For a heartbeat, you stood frozen, staring into Harry’s dark brown eyes. His fingers skated along your skin to the curve of your neck, and a shiver tingled down your spine. It unlocked something inside you, and your arms dropped to your sides, the toiletry bag tumbled, forgotten, to the floor. You let the towel fall.
Harry leaned back slightly, fully taking in the sight of your naked body. His mouth hung open, and his breathing quickened. “Christ, you’re radiant.” He leaned in and kissed you. His lips were soft but insistent, and you immediately opened yours to let him taste you as you eagerly kissed him back before the reality of what was happening sparked a warning in your mind.
You pulled away, breathing hard. “Harry, wait,” you whispered.
“Do you want me to stop?” Harry asked. His lips ghosted down the slope of your neck, mustache lightly scratching your skin, making goosebumps rise on your arms.
“No,” you answered, honestly. “But, I-” He kissed your neck and you gasped. “We can’t,” you whined, even as you angled your head to give him better access.
“Hmm? Why not?”
“Because I’m your assistant.”
He laughed again and ran his nose along your jawline. “That’s right,” he murmured as he took your earlobe between his teeth, nipping lightly. “You are my assistant.” His hands gripped your ass and pulled you flush against him. You could feel the unmistakable shape of his erection through his shorts, and your core flooded with an answering arousal. “So, assist.”
“Oh,” you breathed out, realizing then that you were well past the point of fighting this for the sake of professionalism. You wanted him. “Yes, sir.”
You surged up to capture his mouth with yours, neither of you holding back any longer. Harry groaned as your fingers weaved into his hair and you tugged, deepening the kiss so that your tongues and teeth clashed. His hands splayed over your bare back, and he began walking backwards, pulling you along without breaking the kiss until he had you in front of the weight bench. He stepped aside, turning and maneuvering himself to stand behind you. You watched his reflection in the mirrored wall ahead of you.
His arms encircled you from behind, hands skimming over your stomach. He cupped your breasts, one in each palm, and squeezed. You arched your back against his chest, and he pushed your tits together as he watched your reaction in the mirror. You bit your bottom lip and your eyebrows drew together as you admired the sight of how perfectly you filled those big hands.
The corner of Harry’s mouth turned up in a smirk as he peered at you from over your shoulder. “You know, you make that same face when you’re working at your desk. I hope you’re not thinking about emails right now.”
Your eyes flicked over to your own expression. Your furrowed brow softened as your mouth curved into a smile. “No, that’s just what I look like when I’m trying to concentrate on something real hard.” You pushed your ass back into him, grinding on his covered dick for emphasis.
Harry groaned, and one hand slid down to your hip, keeping your ass locked tight against his crotch. “Fuck, sweetheart, it drives me crazy.” He pinched your nipple and rolled the hardened nub between two fingers, making a whimper fall from your lips. “But you’re off the clock now, so relax. Let me do the work for you.”
His right hand drifted from your hip and found its way between your legs. His fingers glided through your slick folds, slipping easily over your clit. “Already so wet for me,” Harry said, as he started to rub small circles over you, making you shudder. “Is this what you’re like when I catch you staring at me through the glass? Do you imagine me bending you over my desk and fucking you in front of the whole office?” You watched as he pressed his nose into your damp hair. His eyes met yours in the mirror and his eyebrows rose, expectantly. He was waiting for you to answer.
“Y-yes,” you confessed, stammering as his fingers worked you faster. “Always. Fuck!” You reached up and behind you, grabbing a fistful of his hair again as your orgasm built.
He hummed a low sound that rumbled from his chest and through to yours. His lips moved to the shell of your ear, and he whispered, “So do I.”
That sinful admission from him was enough to push you over the edge. Your eyelids fluttered shut as you came. He pressed a gentle kiss to the spot behind your ear, then his hold on you disappeared, and you were left standing on your own shaky legs.
He gave your ass a smack and your eyes flew open as he said, “Bend over for me again, sweetheart. Let me see that pretty little cunt properly.”
You blinked, shocked at hearing such filthy demands coming out of the mouth of Harry Castillo, as easily as if he were asking you to get him this month’s expense report. When you didn’t move, Harry placed his hands on his waist and fixed you with a stern look. It was the same move he used during difficult negotiations. You nodded and leaned forward, bracing your hands on the padded bench in front of you.
“Good girl,” Harry praised.
In the mirror, you saw Harry lower the waistband of his gym shorts. He pulled out his solid cock, wrapping his right hand around it, and gave himself a couple of strokes, spreading your wetness along the shaft. You met each other’s eyes in the mirror as he lined himself up behind you. You gasped at the feeling of his heavy cock against your ass. The toe of Harry’s Nike gym shoe tapped the inside of your ankle, silently asking for you to spread your legs wider. You obliged, and looked up toward Harry’s reflection to see it had earned you a pleased smile.
You watched him in the mirror, his eyes cast down, as he pushed the head of his cock against your entrance. He hissed through his teeth as it slipped inside you, and you grunted at the way he stretched you. You hadn’t had a chance to really see much of him, but he felt impossibly big as he slowly pushed further into you. Your fingernails dug crescents into the seat padding as you breathed through the initial discomfort, until his cock was fully sheathed in your pussy. His hands smoothed over your back, running up along your sides and then down your spine.
You flexed your inner walls, giving his dick a squeeze to urge some movement from him. He cursed under his breath but met your gaze with something like a challenge in the look. You responded by rocking forward and back, enjoying the feeling of control over his pleasure and yours. You lost yourself in the smooth strokes, in and out, and then, just as you had established a rhythm with your movements, Harry’s hands were on your hips, stopping you. Just the tip of him was still inside you, but before you could open your mouth to protest the interruption, he thrust into you, hard. The ferocity of it punched a sound from your throat that might as well have been a scream in the silence of the empty building.
Harry’s firm grip held you tight as he pulled back and thrust forward again, then again and again. The face you had seen almost every day for the past two years was drawn into an expression you’d never seen him wear before. His skin was flushed and sweaty, his upper lip curled to show his gleaming, gritted teeth, and his eyes glinted with a dark intensity. The man in the mirror was wholly unrecognizable to you like this. This was not the sweet, gentle man you’d quietly crushed on. This was a different animal entirely, and he fucked you like it, too. Hard, fast, and rough. It was even better than anything you could have imagined. His growls and your moans grew louder as your combined pleasure crested and another orgasm crashed through you. Harry swore and pulled out, and you felt the hot spurts across your asscheeks as he came, too.
You collapsed onto the weight bench, arms dangling over the sides, too weak to even care how disheveled you must look. You closed your eyes and listened to the sound of your heart thumping. Gentle fingers brushed the curtain of your hair out of your face. When you opened your eyes, Harry was squatting beside you, holding both of your towels and your toiletry bag in one arm.
“You left the shower running,” he smirked, “Come on, let me help you get cleaned up.”
