They do nothing to cool his flushed face from the sheer exertion he should’ve been saving for this fight. Instead his strength focused on you, his needy girl, using him to fuck yourself stupid before a match. You’ve set a merciless pace, your ass recoiling upon impact, the action soaking your cum onto Lion's crotch, making a sticky mess between you both and the shorts you barely bothered to pull all the way off sitting atop his thighs. He swears his eyes roll into the back of his skull as he watches the arch in your back deepen as you slam down onto his cock. 

“Buh–baby I–”

Lion chokes out, his incoherent begging falling on deaf ears. His knees dig hard into the cold concrete of the locker room floor, his bare back knocking against the metal lockers hard enough to leave faint impressions and scratches. You brace yourself over the worn bench, bent over and white knuckling the old rotting wood, keeping him exactly where you want him. Your own labored breathing falls in sync with Lion’s own sharp ones—all choked gasps and moans, making the thin line between who is who blur rapidly as the angle pulls your jaw slack, lips parting in a silent, trembling “o”.

Angling your neck to look back at him is what cracks your composure. You lean farther over the bench, breasts pressing harder against the rough wood, the edge digging in as the fabric of your bra strains and shifts. The movement pushing you further from him, and when you glance back at Lion, the sight of him hits you all at once—hair a mess, breathing ragged, eyes blown wide.

He looks absolutely fucking wrecked.

Your eyes dilate at the sight of the thick webs of your arousal pulling and sticking, as if trying their hardest to beckon you back. Following the mess, you trace the thick prominent vein tracing the underside of his cock that hooks deliciously at the right angle, slathered thick with a creamy white ring. The sight alone has your pussy clenching around the thick head of his cock, the action pulling a pitiful whine out of Lion as his hips jerk involuntarily at the feeling.

Lion is far past gone, his cheeks and the plane of his chest blooming a soft, pretty pink under the yellow fluorescents — and his hands, half lost in that stunned haze, fumble, for your hips as if to anchor himself and wrap your cunt back around him to fill the space you’ve put between the two of you. 

A rough, guttural sound rumbles from his chest; before his fingers can anchor themselves, his gaze fixes on the glimmering film of sweat pooled in the dimples at the base of your spine. The sight nearly undoes him—one bead trembling there looks so wickedly enticing, that he’d trail it with his fucking tongue in a heartbeat, just to savor it.

Without warning, you slam right back on him, a loud plap! goes lost under Lion’s sharp cry at the sudden movement and tightness of your cunt wrapping back around him. The sudden fullness has your own vision blurring, the feeling settling deep in your lower stomach to hit you just right on your cervix. The sudden impact slams him against the jagged edge of the lockers; he knows the metal is biting harshly into his skin—welts now, bruises later—but the thought barely registers through the haze clouding his mind.

“B-baby… m’gonna—hah—”

Your words tumble out on a shaky breath, breaking into small hiccups before the sentence is even finished. At the same moment, Lion’s hands finally lock onto your hips, fingers tightening until his knuckles bleach white. His vice grip steadies you both for a heartbeat, his rough exhale rasping as heat pulses through his palms. 

He’s been holding his breath, eyes skittering everywhere but your body, picturing how he’ll leave the match with cash in his pocket to spend on you, just so he wouldn't blow his load early.

“I– jus’ wan’ s–see”

He doesn’t even recognize how raspy his voice comes out, his words slurring together at the effort and the indulgence dripping from his words. You don’t even hear his words but then you feel it, strong hands gripping onto your ass, flattening his palms as his fingers dig into each cheek—oh.

Lion’s face tightens in complete and utter pleasure, he watches as your rhythm stutters at the halting grip, every shred of his restraint leaving his body. He knows it’s a small stretch for you at how hard his palms are digging into your flesh as he spreads you wide for him to see, your tight hole puckering at the slight burn. He blinks hard, refusing to let a film of tears cloud the moment he wants to see perfectly.

His hands suddenly glide upward until both palms settle flat against the small of your back; the firm heel of his hand presses in, sealing the moment like a final, decisive push. Summoning the last of his strength, he sends you pitching forward, breath hitching as momentum steals the air from your lungs and the world narrows to heat and pressure as he slams your hips right back, effectively burning the stretch and slip of your tight pussy sucking in his cock to memory. His vision blazes white, the rush overtaking him as he pumps you full, his cum spilling in thick ropes. You cry out as your own orgasm washes over you, his palms still firmly planted into the meat of your ass through it all, holding you flush against him until every last tremor fades and his front is flushed against your back in exhaustion.

Your breaths collide in the charged hush, bodies aching and buzzing. You’re the first to move, easing back while he still feels boneless beneath you. The moment shatters when a sharp clang rattles the locker room door and Lion’s name is barked impatiently off Stan’s tongue.

In Lion's line of work, even a seasoned boxer can’t completely hide the faint tremble in his knees—or the thin ribbon of dried blood trailing down his back where the dented metal vents on the lockers scraped him. The battered locks left their marks, too, mismatched numbers stamped faintly in red just beneath the left arm of the cross tattooed on the side of his torso.

clark is really, truly, sorry.

you’re on your stomach, a pillow shoved hastily beneath your hips in a rushed effort to prop you up just a tad higher, your shared arousal causing a dark streak to form on the satin pillowcases you fussed him about using. clark’s hands dig harshly into the back of your thighs, easily pinning you in place and sure to pinch tomorrow in purple splotches. all events leading up to this point a blur already as your entire body jerks just a little higher with every desperate thrust.

clark kent’s agenda for the day was simple: finalize a few last minute touch ups on monday’s issue, then head to the grocery store after work to pick up the remaining ingredients for dinner. he planned a quick stop to buy your favorite flowers from the sweet florist on 5th and topaz, despite his usual, unsuccessful insistence on paying the older woman in full. And if time allowed during his lunch break, check in on the city to ensure a fool-proof evening to himself.

but instead, lois is locked and loaded to give clark an earful tomorrow for leaving her with his slack, not a single brown paper bag cradled in his arms when he arrived home, no meticulously put together arrangement in his hands. hell—not even the jingle of keys and the soft padding of him kicking off his shoes. all because a stupid piece of chocolate.

all because he thought that he’d been real smart grabbing that funny looking chocolate in a wrapper he’d never seen before from jimmy’s desk, tuckered away in between post it notes and a plethora of misplaced papers and notebooks. it didn’t take long for clark to discover that it wasn’t just a regular piece of candy, that aphrodisiacs have a very adverse reaction on him, the feeling of it being unbelievably heightened.

“s-sweetie, hah—you need to stop squeezing like t-that. p—please.”

your body shudders with the impact of his words, a dizzying match as you can hear just how messy he’s got you. there’s no point in being upset at the situation when he starts rutting against you. clark’s whimpers follow every wet squelch and slide, if you’d look back you’d see the very evidence of it all forming creamy and white around the base of his cock.

“y’so good t’me,” he whines, babbling all soft and wrecked, sounding more fucked out than you are right now. his hulking figure splays over your back, engulfing you in more heat. with his senses heightened, he can’t get over how soft you feel all over, the feeling spurring him on as he laves open mouth kisses to your neck. it’s too much, yet nowhere near enough. you moan loudly as your legs quiver, his desperation turning you on to no end.

without warning, he draws his cock out of you, the stretch and catch of every vein already a delicious sensation, and right before you could fully appreciate it, he drives it right back inside. he’s reaching so deep you feel like he’s in your fucking chest. you cry out, a cross between a whimper and a yelp, the sound making clark’s cock twitch helplessly.

his pace is brutal as it is relentless, each thrust punctuated with a moan or a stuttered, incoherent:

“i didn’t mean t-to!”

“my g-goodness y’feel so good”

“s’too tight”

you clamp down around him harder every time he nudges against your cervix. you cry out at the angle, how thick and heavy he sits inside you. your pussy sucks him in, begging for more, and clark has no choice but to oblige. he knows that sign, deft fingers slipping between your body and the pillow, his fingers feeling like heaven on your puffy clit. his fingers and thrusts together urges a steady rush of ah, ah, ahs up your throat. your vision whites out and it feels like your ears are ringing as you gush around him, tears pricking at your eyes as you feel your orgasm ripple throughout your entire body.

his mouth hangs open at the feeling, completely gone past his usual composure. his eyes watch the way you swallow him whole inside you, that makes his rhythm falter.

he already knows he’s done for, feels that coil ignite and lick away at him. he tries to get your attention, his hands try to push down on your ass, but the words die in his throat when you push your hips back. he’s flushed from the neck up, saliva glistening on his puffy lips from kissing you.

with all the strength you can muster under clark you push yourself up on shaking arms. confused, clark’s hands move to grip the sheets as you push back, still inside you.

pushed back onto his haunches, you use the upper hand to grip onto his thighs, pushing yourself up despite the burn in your shaky legs. carefully, you rock back while your spine arches lower. he meets your patient pace, pushing his hips out in tandem, the feeling overwhelming on your already sensitive pussy, the change in position has you gasping. you swear you can pick out that one girthy vein at the bottom of his shaft from this angle alone. you twist, getting a glimpse of him from behind you when you look over your shoulder. you could cum again at just how his abdomen flexes, his flushed chest, how pink his plump lips are from how much he’s been biting them. it all dizzies your head.

then he snaps, ropes of cum painting your walls, he couldn’t even be bothered to pull out right now if he tried his hardest. you’re shocked for a second, but the feeling of his cock pulsating is unbelievably addictive. you don’t even realize just how badly he needed it until you see his spend painting the inside of your thighs, a thick rope catching and leaking out onto his balls, it’s an absolute mess.

“y-yes. s’good, i promise. sorry—“ his words slur together at the relief that washes over his body, his vision whiting out at the pure ecstasy his body’s been begging for this entire time.

for a minute it’s just your heavy breathing mingling together, you’re both sore and glowing in sweat. slowly clark pulls out of you, a small whimper breezing past his lips at the loss. gingerly he wraps his thick arms around you, moving you slowly to lay on your back, his hands already softly massaging your thighs apologetically. still feeling a little guilty, he plants a small kiss into your hairline.

“not that i’m complaining, but—you gonna explain that?” you sigh, finally catching your breath.

he huffs out a small chuckle, a sheepish smile painting his features. “happy valentine’s day, honey”