clark sucks in a breath through his teeth, “you’re practically jumping my bones, baby.” airily scoffing at the feeling of your hands groping every acre of clark you can get your hands on. your knee pushes it’s way past his, pressing against the heft of clark’s bulge under red spandex. his hips drive down onto the rigid edge of it, the pressure pushing a whine up from his chest. 

you catch him in a heated kiss, suckling on the tip of his tongue. clark jolts and his hands fly to your sides, pressing lightly into the flesh of your hips to grip you tighter to his groin in search of more of that delicious friction that makes his head go light.

“oh, c’mon, not in the suit, hon’...” 

“yes, in the suit, clark. i think it’s hot.” you giggle into his mouth, teeth clacking as your fingers work off the egregiously large yellow belt bound on his hips, and dip underneath the skin tight waistband of the hero spandex– smeared in dirt smudges with clear signs of battle-torn wear. they give around the thick muscles of his thighs, pumped up from carrying buildings that would lay entire cities to rest if they made impact, and they pool around his scufffed boots. the zipper on the crotch panel of the suit is handy in cases like these, say if superman ever had to take a quick leak– or in this case, fuck his girlfriend.  

you palm his groin, seeing the heft in between his thighs fatten with each squeeze of your hand around him. 

“for someone who was complaining, i don’t think you disagree with me.” eyebrow cocking upwards as you grin at him, eyeing the way clark’s face twists into something of an attempt at self restraint, seeing as he chews on his bottom lip to quiet down the pathetic noises crawling their way up his throat. the more your fingers toy with his cock straining against latex, the more moans squeak out, tight and pitchy with sweat rolling down his temple. 

clark whines for more, pleading as his curls smush against the drywall pressed against his back. your fingers work the zipper open on his suit, fishing out his leaking cock from the suffocating skin-tight material. he hisses at your cold fingers wrapping around the base of him, thumbing over the bead of pre cum on the slit of his head to lube up your hand. 

“please, baby, gi– give me more.” clark babbles, the warming friction of your fingers on the underside of his shaft as they roll up and down his throbbing length making his head feel light. the shift of his muscles underneath the tight cobalt latex ripple against his skin, clark’s almost there as tears bloom on his waterline. they coat his lashes, long and fluttering as he loses himself in the sensation of your coiled hand around his girth. 

his breath hitches, chest struggling to deflate as the air gets stuck in his lungs. the bubbling heat in clark’s gut is intense as his abdomen tightens when your hand freezes, dribbles of pre cum crying out when you suddenly pinch at the base of his cock. 

“i was just about to– mmm, fuck–” clark’s hand wraps around your wrist, looking at you with glassy doe eyes that scream justa’ little more. 

“what happened to ‘not in the suit’, baby? you’re so eager.” 

the smug little smirk your lips curl into as rake your fingernails down the inside of his thigh is infuriating, but clark can’t seem to focus on the feeling as the sharp sting in his gut distracts him. 

“i– i don’t care, please, please.” he tugs on your wrist, clark is so desperate for some form of relief after your teasing and poking. fuck the suit, all he needs is to come somehow. the shake from your hand when clark jerks your wrist up has him reeling. his balls are tight, heavy with his spend when you give in to his begging, short spurts of your fingers yanking at his foreskin. 

drool runs from his mouth, cheeks burning bright, “what? is superman about to come all over my hands?” you swish your spit in your mouth before you let it drip from your mouth, looking up at the wreckage you’ve made of him through your lashes. a heady whine tearing from his chest at the name, superman. symbol of hope, pillar of peace, praised by the entire world–

and here superman is, falling apart because you jerk his cock off just a little, and he’s putty in your hands. 

clark leaks all over your fingers soon after, thick streams of cum flowing over and under them and down his suit. darkened blue streaks run down his thighs, splattering onto the red hem of his cape that drapes onto the floor. his eyebrows relax, eyes fluttering as the weight in his stomach releases with each spurt of cum you manage to milk out of his cock. 

you give a satisfactory hum before you feel the dip of clark’s knees and his forearms hook under your thighs, gasping at the cold press of your wall against your back. his cock bobs and slaps against your thigh, the tack of the cum drying on his shaft slicking up your skin as he mouths at your throat. wet, and open-mouthed along the edge of the soft spot of your jaw that has your hands gripping at his shoulders. 

clark murmurs into your skin, “need more of ya’...”  

he sinks into your tight heat with ease, feeling the muscles inside you contract against the intrusion of his cock. you’re tight, unbelievably so, and mewling at the stretch. thick fingers dig into the fat of your thighs as clark tries to not come immediately when his hips roll into yours. 

the head of his cock kisses the deepest parts of you, borderline breaching your cervix from the angle his cock is digging in. your skin is slick with a sheen of sweat, hairs sticking to your cheeks while you break apart around his shaft with each pump inside your weeping cunt. bruises bloom along the column of your throat, suckling supple skin between his teeth that leave indents that sting when his tongue drags along them. 

clark boxes you in between the wall and his broad shoulders tighter, knees practically touching your ears as his cock seems to dig that much deeper inside your walls at the new found space. 

you look down at where you’re connected by the hips, seeing the fabric of his suit at the crotch darken with your essence. the obscene squelch of your juices squishing at the weight of clark inside has your head lolling back against the wall,  “come inside, c– mmm, superman. i know ya’ want to, do it.” a lazy grin stretched on your face. 

“why do you– fuck– stop callin’ me that…” his lip quakes, fingers dig into your thighs, tightening their grip as he feels himself falter and his heels dig into the wooden floorboards to steady himself straight. 

“what, you like that?” you manage to hoist yourself up, hands slipping against the drywall as you adjust your position to lean into his ear, “superman? about to come inside his pretty little girlfriend?” goosebumps sprout across his spine at the warm puff of your breaths against the shell of his ear. 

clark tries to complain again, stopping short as the words catch in his throat. “that same suit you’ll wear tomorrow, and the day after– all you will remember is this, right? your cock so deep in–” 

you thrash against the wall as you cry into the air, jaw slack as you gush around him and fist the bunch of red fabric at the base of clark’s neck while your thighs quiver. clark reels at the sudden squeeze, chest heaving as he bites down on his lip. he feels your hips flush against his, riding out the static that runs through your abdomen.

“can’t be the only one, baby. come, please.” your palm presses onto the emblem on his chest, bright yellow and red snaking into an ‘s’ that bites into the muscles underneath. 

soon enough, you feel the warmth pool in your deep in your belly. dripping down your thighs and onto the floor in quiet thunks as he digs his nose into the crook of your neck. clark can feel the sopping wet ring of fabric around his crotch and see the damp streaks of his own spend from earlier that were slowly drying up and embedding itself into the suit.

whining into your skin, “i’m going to have to get a new suit…”

you hips roll downwards, the flexed muscle of his thigh underneath his cargos darkening with slick. clit catching against the rough material, it feels like electricity running through your veins as you mewl into his shoulder, nails clawing into the thick muscle there. your nose digs into his flannel, he smells like the woods– the snow blanketing the grass, bark shavings, and soil. it’s heady, thick in your nose and mouth watering.

your fingers grip his shoulder, steadying yourself as you tremble and twitch. every bout of stimulation, another jerk of your hips, another pinpoint of sweat on your forehead. you chase for reprieve like a dog chasing a tennis ball– quick, panting, not giving yourself a chance to savor in the rush. it’s cute, joel thinks. a laugh bubbling from his throat as his fingers grapple for the pudge of your thigh to still your movements.

“c’m–oon, joel. let me,” you grunt, hips struggling against his fingers pressing into your side, “just a little more, please.”

joel’s mean though, he doesn't let you, and huffs out a chiding laugh as he tucks a strand behind your ear, and plants a kiss along your hairline. “not a chance, kid. you ain’t even doing it right.”

his large palms cradle your hips, lifting you with ease just to bring you back down on him. inch by inch, his hands guide you down, driving your pelvis into his thigh. slow and languid to drag the feeling out, relishing in every shudder that runs through you.

your face contorts, eyebrows furrowing as you feel each wave of pleasure– but slower, you can feel the static in your fingertips. in the head rush as you feel yourself come undone bit by bit, eyes squeezing tight as his hand rubs warm, soothing circles onto your stomach.

“y’feel that here?” hand stilling at the bottom of your gut, as he presses into your skin with his thumb. all you can do is whine as you frantically nod, sweat slicked hairs sticking to your rosy cheeks.

“go—od girl, just like that…”

joel extends the syllable in an accented drawl that has the warmth in your tummy curling tight beneath your ribs. your cheeks burn a fiery red, clammy.

his left hand soothes over the slope of your spine, rough and tender in his own way. joel is just so much larger than you— it’s dizzying. his hand outstretched against your back is wide, territorial in a way. his thumb and middle finger reach from end-to-end of your waist, warm in his hold.

joel’s fingers are thick— in size and laden with scars and thick skin built over the years of fighting for survival. solid in all the right ways, broad shoulders shadowing you in, biceps that strain against cuffed flannels, threatening to burst through the fabric.

one of his hands slides up your torso, up your shoulder to peel off the strap of your tank top. he thumbs over your pert nipple, tongue lapping a stripe against the swell of your tit, humming as he drinks in the warmth and salt of your skin.

the other travels from your back, down to press featherlight, weathered touches onto your clit. thumb working in tight circles against the sensitive bud, wounding the coil in your gut taut. you thrash in joel’s lap at the pressure, hips bucking against the broad expanse of his thigh.

“wait, wait, joel—” large fingers prod the rim of your hole, you gasp into the crook of his neck at the intrusion. joel shushes and coos into your ear, sweet murmurs of consolation as he pries you open, swallowing the thick of his fingers just right, it has joel groaning.

each slow pump of his fingers inside you, another obscene squelch of your slick— joel’s right there to kiss away the tears. they reach new found depths each time, brushing the spongy spot tucked deep inside just barely, so you meet him where he’s at. inexperienced hips grinding down to find more friction, searching for more of that aching stretch.

when you finally feel that pull, the crash of your thighs quivering and the spasming of the muscles in your back— the weight of joel’s hand is there to keep you together. to bring you back down from your high, from the sparks that fly behind your eyelids as your hips begin to slow from the rhythm they had built. you don't realize the tears tracking down your warm cheeks until he’s kissing the collection along your jaw, the salt and pepper scruff skimming the edge of your throat.

lips skip along your throat, muttering songs of praise into supple skin. feeling the thrum of your sputtering heart beat under his lips, the curl of a smile against your pulse point.

after your fumbling fingers work at the buttons of his slacks and sloughing them off— pooling at the ankles as you bracket his thighs in between yours. the initial stretch of his cock was intense, the dull, aching throb in your stomach was unbearable.

you curse aloud, another painful dig of your nails into his back as joel’s forehead rests upon yours. his breathing is uneven, the coiling of your walls around him was enough to punch the air out of his lungs.

“mm, fu—uck, sweetheart. need’ya ta’ loosen up a bit for me, hm?” his breath is warm against your cheeks, the soft pull of a smile on joel’s face as you take a peek through half closed eyes.

“can you do that f’me?” you mumble something of a ‘yes’ before another slow roll of his hips meets yours. his hand cups your jaw, a soothing weight against you as his thumb slips past your lips. wrapping plush around it, the taste of him thick on your tongue as it presses down.

you teethe lightly on the pad of his finger, the squish of it in between your molars as his cock hits a particular spot that has you moaning around it. it rolls around in your mouth, toying with the taste of it with your tongue swirling around it.

joel takes his time with you, making sure nothing hurts even the slightest bit. it's evident in the way his forearm snakes underneath your lower back, pressing you flush against his chest. the warmth of his gut against your stomach is soothing, a physical expression of assurance— to take what you need, rather than give what you can't, and joel will be there.

every new sound joel manages to wrangle out of you eggs him on further. the rubbered head of his cock kisses spots you didn't even know existed, each plunge inside your drooly cunt around him has you clamping down even more.

you can feel the tremble in joel's thighs pressed against your own, the tight sounds of groans echoing off the walls as he fills you. he’s about to fall apart as well, right on the brink of falling past the ledge.

relief comes quick in the form of a deep kiss with your chin jutted upwards, thumb streaking spit across the fat of your cheek before being followed up with his tongue. joel swallows the cries that tear from your chest as your arms hook over his back, pressing him so incredibly tight against you— he believed you would fuse as one if you pulled any harder.

the warmth of his spend filling the condom blooms in your belly, sitting comfortably until joel pulls out. the dissipating heat of you wrapped around him pulling a airy noise of complaint from his nose.

your head feels like it's one with the clouds, spinning with delirium as you come down once more.

joel doesn't realize that you’ve fallen asleep in his arms, drool slipping from the corner of your lips and soaking the sheets underneath. snores bubble up in your throat, a small noise as your cheek presses against the mattress.

his palm smooths your hair back, small hairs poking out again before placing a kiss against your temple as he watches your chest rise and fall in a gentle rhythm.

your hands slip underneath his shirt, cold from the winds as they smooth circles over his stomach, bunched together from his rounded out posture. the hairs from his stomach tickle your skin as you continue to grope him. 

“c’mo—on, buck. get us home a little faster and i’ll touch you just the way you want.” a teasing lilt to the end of your muffled voice from the helmet. 

bucky huffs, clearly growing more frustrated by the minute. he can feel just how hard he’s gotten from your teasing alone, it’s straining against the denim of his jeans and no amount of shifting around can conceal it. 

sooner or later, after you continue touching him in ways you know get him riled up, you find yourself face first with the leather seat of the motorcycle in some back end alley. skirt hiked high up to your hips, and panties torn off you. 

his steel hand is coiled around your throat, unforgiving and digging into your skin, “what’d i say ‘bout, ‘not right now’, sweets.” 

you whine and try to worm yourself out of his grip, to no avail, clearly. “maybe this is what i was hoping for, takin’ me like this.” your eyes are glassy, lashes wet with sprouting tears as you look up at him pathetically. your cheek blooms red as he presses you harder into the leather, nostril crushed against it unflatteringly so.

bucky’s thumb swipes across the fat of your ass, before striking down with such a force, you manage to choke a cry out. it stings against your cheek, but fuck, did it feel good. the sharp ache as cold air hits your exposed skin has you trembling, spot still warm and raw from the impact.

“really? ‘s that what that was, you trying to rile me up on purpose?” he scoffs, breath pushed sharply out of his nose. another strike comes down your ass cheek, this time stinging like it would bruise over tomorrow in the shape of his hand. a tear springs from the corner of your eye, pooling in the divots of the seat as your knees go weak. 

you can feel the thick flexed muscle of his arm wrap around your waist, before grinding backwards against his throbbing hard on, still just as lively as before, and bucky fights back a groan at the pressure. “pl—lease, buck. give me it, give me your cock.” your whine is pitchy and pathetic in his ear.

“you’re in no position to be asking me to do anything f’you, sweets. you’ll take what i give you,” the cold zippers on his jacket prod against your back, kiss planted right on the ridge of your ear, “so be good, and take it.” 

he works off his belt with a quickness, buckle clanking against itself and echoing on the alleyway walls. the moment his cock sinks into your tight heat, you clamp down so tightly that bucky thinks he’s going to come right then and there.

the fat head of his cock fucks into you, thick and unrelenting against your sweet spot. steel tightens against your throat again, leaving red imprints of his fingers as his bicep flexes and bulges underneath his jacket. grounding himself as he loses himself in the throes of your cunt. 

you feel way too fucking good, warm, and so unbelievably tight around his cock. almost as though you’ve been molded to fit him all the way to the hilt, cockhead threatening to kiss your cervix the deeper it pushes inside. each sharp slap of his heavy balls against your swollen clit, and the deep ache of your cunt not having yet adjusted to him wholly, has you seeing stars swirling behind your eyes. 

bucky’s addicted to the ripple of your ass as he pistons into your hole, feeling the squeeze around his shaft when he hits just the right spot. he can feel sweat grow on his eyebrow, body burning at the relief he’s feeling. 

there’s faint chatter, noise of the city around you still spinning while you’re lost in your own corner of the world. you think you’re deep enough in the alleyway to not be seen, the shadows of the buildings sandwiched together concealing you from the street lamps and neon LED street signs— but there’s that fear in your gut that weeds out. 

the click of heels down the concrete sidewalk has you eyeing upwards, goosebumps washing over your skin. “w— wait, wait, buck. someone’s there.” your nails scrape against the muscle of his thigh, flexed and tough as he continues to fuck into you.

your voice comes out choked, partly in embarrassment, about the “what if” someone catches you in the act. tucked away in an alleyway, cock buried so deep inside you, it feels as though it’s in your throat. 

bucky looks up briefly, through the bill of his cap. he can make out a silhouette, long billowing curls and heels that had to be 4 inches, minimum. his hips still, wary as he stares down the alley. 

there’s a knot in your brow, furrowed as your face contorts in something of panic. but the flaring heat in your gut betrays you, feeling the way you pulse around his girth still inside you. and you can feel the smallest smirk etch it’s way onto bucky’s face, the way his flesh hand tightens against your waist, almost bruisingly so. 

the silhouette is gone just as fast as it appeared. they probably assumed it was nothing. 

a moan gurgles out from your throat, drool spilling down your chin as bucky continues again, pushing inside your heat again.

“what, ya’ want to get caught? you got all tight around me when you thought they saw you.” laugh hot against your ear, abdomen pressed tight against your back as he drills even deeper. the new, tighter angle punching broken whines from your chest.

“mm mm!” ‘nuh uh’, muffled from your squished cheek. the edge of his laugh, the darkened blue of his irises as he looked down at you, had your ears burning at the tips. flushed red and hot, squirming against him. 

“you probably woulda’ liked that, huh? getting watched as you all come all over my cock.” his grip loosens as you feel his palm snake down your stomach, thick, rough fingers working circles into your clit. they’re rough with no coordination, moving, simply with the goal of getting you to the other side.

the filthier the words bucky would spit into your ear, the louder your obscene squelches would get. every word enunciated with a sharp snap of his hips, the coil in your gut snapping as you felt your breath grow shallow from the iron grip around your throat. 

your cum gushes out, thick and frothed at the base of his cock as he pulls out to spill onto your back. warm slick dribbling and collecting into the divots of your back. breath growing raggedy as he milked the rest of his spend onto your lower back, fist squeezing upwards. 

it’s just you and bucky in this pocket of the alleyway, silent as his steel thumb smoothes over your cheek. your right cheek is rubbed raw, the friction from the leather seat chafing your skin. your eyes are just as glassy, warm spots of light reflecting from what shines at the end of the alleyway. 

both hands cup your jaw, slotting themselves just behind your ears, and he presses a long kiss against your plush ones. quiet, gentler than the ones before. it’s reverent, taking you in whole as you shakenly come down from your high. 

he doesn't say much, nothing besides fleeting words of affirmation presses against the crown of your head as he pulls you in closer. pulling the lapel over your shoulder, shielding you from the cold. it’s all small actions, no grand spiel of romantic professings. but maybe all you need is to be held just that much tighter for now.

he kisses down the plush of your thighs, fingers hooking over black cotton and pushing them down.

you grind against bucky’s clothed cock, feeling the throbbing heat of it against your cheek as he groans at the friction. his hips buck up in search of more, fingers digging your hips to ground you in place. yelena smiles against your lips, the vibrations of her giggle resound as she lays down on the bed while cupping your cheeks with the same tender hold against your jaw. palms digging into the mattress beneath to steady yourself as you dogleg against the bed.

the soft of her stomach against your hand is warm, caressing her waist as you thumb off her own slacks. she toes the rest off as you smooth over her stomach, before your fingers dip underneath the waistband of her underwear, sticky squelching sounds as you press against the swell of her cunt. yelena's hips stutter against the sudden friction, “c’mon, baby. touch me properly.” her accent drawled out. she scooches backwards until your head was trapped between muscular thighs and the crook of her knee.

you feel bucky shuck off his own slacks from behind, the bobbing of his cock from release slapping you.

he stretches you so impossibly full, it borders on painful. the sting around the ring of muscle of your hole feels tender, slowly adjusting to the breadth of taking bucky all the way to the hilt. “y’er taking me so well, darlin’,” the rough skin of his hand nicks the soft of your tummy as it trails downwards.

“breathe, baby. breathe.” you suck in a breath, unaware that you were holding your breath from the intrusion, as he hums a sound of approval into your shoulder as his fingers rub circles onto your clit. small slow and soothing circles as you groan flush against yelena’s crotch from the stimulation.

your head feels hot, cheeks burning and lightheaded as yelena’s thighs constrict around you. nosing the cotton of her panties, she's slicked them all the way through as she presses herself against your mouth for more friction. the flat of your tongue scrapes against the soaked fabric, musky and mild in your mouth.

it’s a lot of attention from both ends: the enveloping warmth of yelena’s thighs. and the stinging ache of just how wide bucky stretched you out, cooing against the shell of your ear as he begins to pull out, just to sheath himself fully inside you in quick succession.

there's a smudge of dirt and a scrape on your cheek as evidence from hours earlier, of you tumbling to the ground, shoulder crashing against concrete as you were pinned to the ground, the teeth of a knife biting into the skin of your throat.

that flash behind his eyelids then— just the thought that he’d lose you had him laying himself flush against your back, scruff scraping your skin as he held you tight. silently kissing prayers into your the middle of your shoulder blades, bucky never believed in a higher power, but if anything, anyone, existed beyond them— he was speaking out to whoever would listen.

you could feel the warmth in your belly blossom as you felt yourself get closer to release, the tingle in your chest streaming down to the tips of your toes as he hits the spongey spot nestled so deep inside, it has your knees buckling.

yelena’s finger hooks the edge of her panties to the side, the fat of her lips anchoring it in place. the initial suckle against the plump slick of her cunt had her tightening her hold of your head. each rake of your warm tongue against her folds, prodding the entrance of her hole, and scooping up every droplet and swallowing— had her on edge quicker than she had intended.

“Умница (good girl)… ju—ust a little more, please.” yelena’s voice is tight and hoarse in her throat, eyes screwed shut as she bucks against your mouth. the blue of her eyeliner is smudged from the fight earlier, her knuckles crushing against their jaws as she wiped the bead of sweat from her eyebrow.

your hand caresses her thigh, feeling the thrum underneath her skin that gives her away when she’s about to give out, “c’mon, ‘lena, come for me.” murmured into her warm skin.

the sudden clamping of her thighs around your ears, the pull of the sheets from under you as she grips them in her fists as you lap up all the gushing juices leaking down your chin. yelena twitches and whines as she slowly comes down from her high, even the brush of your breaths against her skin has her trembling again.

you and bucky don't take long to follow suit. the cold pressure of his thumb against your sensitive clit, and the repeated kiss of his head against what feels like your guts, bringing you over the edge.

a gravelly moan tore from bucky’s chest as he felt you cling around his length like a vice, refusing to let go as he spills inside you. warm, and thick in your belly as it’s plugged inside.

the not-so-silent syncopated breaths of you, bucky, and yelena fill the room. the web of tangled limbs, sweat slicked skin, and the warm smell of musk and bodies thick in the air. you bathe in it all for a couple minutes, neither of the three daring to move and leave the warmth for a second.

it’s bucky who eventually leaves first. you feel the slow drag of him pulling out, the lack of girth and warmth filling you out has you groaning into the fat of yelena's thigh. he tucks a kiss right behind you ear and your hairline, and a soothing thumb against the inside of yelena’s knee, “i’ll get us a towel…”

a sigh washes through your chest, warmth buzzing underneath your skin as he suckles a bruise onto the spot right along the edge of your jaw that has you sinking into clark's chest. your hand combs through his thick curls, tugging at the strands, "baby, you know you can't do that. we have work tomorrow." because as much as you love the feeling of the singeing warmth of clark's tongue pressing against your neck, you would rather not have any questions from the girls at the office tomorrow morning.

"i— i know, i know, m'sorry. you jus' taste so good, though…" whining into your ear as he walks you both towards the couch, your hands coming up to wrap around his neck. as much as he would like to heed your warning, you're like pie to a cartoon dog— irresistible.

his hands travel upwards, one hand unlatching the clasps digging into your back, the other kneading the fat of your tits. you can feel the twitch in his fingers, barely contained urges fighting it's way against the surface. clark's hands are large, and rough at the edges— the wear and tear of pens pressed against the bone of his middle finger, and torn skin on his palm healed over from fighting the dangers unknown.

he takes the hardened pebble of your nipple between his fore and middle finger, rolling it and pinching with just enough pressure to have you weak at the knees. you curse under your breath, eyes squeezing together and the stimulation fogging over your brain.

the plush of clark's lips squish against your cheek, working their way down to the corner of your own, catching them in a very desperate kiss. forceful in the way his tongue slides inside, smoothing over every nook and cranny of your mouth, like he doesn't already have it mapped out in his head— every ridge on the roof of it, the divots of your teeth, knows how to deepen the kiss to swallow every whine you let out— all of it. you cling onto the thick muscle of his shoulders as his fingers find themselves working your belt off, undoing the button on your slacks, shucking them off together.

you aren't wearing anything especially sexy, no lace, no bows, no matching set— just a mismatched pair of grey cotton undies, and a black bra. but it has clark reeling at the sight of it, they hug and cup you just right that they're better than any expensive pair of lingerie could ever be. he sits you down on the couch and spread your knees apart, unveiling the fruit that was you.

he swallowed thickly, "gosh, baby. y— you look incredible." he kisses a trail from your knee, all the way up to the pudge of your thighs. slow and sweet were the kisses, stamping his quiet affections into your skin each time. clark would always take his time with you, he could never take advantage of having you in his arms, pliant and accepting. he would kiss every acre of your skin— the soles of your feet to the crown of your head— before ever rushing these moments with you. he wants to relish the feeling of your supple skin underneath the pads of his fingers, the way you squirm in your seat as he kisses closer and closer to your heat— he touches you like he's committing every noise and movement to memory.

clark's nose pushes against your clothed heat, a momentary look of approval before he slowly shed you of your underwear. you're soaked all the way through for him, the glittering sheen of your pussy catches the warm living room lights as he tongues a stripe against you. he drinks your essence with a gulp and a groan that rumbles from deep in his chest, "you taste incredible, too." he murmurs into your skin before diving in again, dying to get another taste of your ambrosia.

he can feel himself strain against his pants, tight and unforgiving as his cock fattens up. it hurts, the need to find some form of relief sits tight in his gut. hot in every sense of the word, heavy in his stomach as he eats you out. the feeling of your juices dripping down his chin and blooming wet spots against the cotton of the couch as him slowly rutting against the edge of the couch. the rough friction of the tough fabric against his aching cock is intense, coupled with the taste of you coating his mouth entirely– clark doesn’t last very long.

he suckles on the swollen bud of your clit, bathing in the yelps and whines you let out. your hands find themselves digging into his scalp, fisting thick bundles of curls in your hands as you plead for more. “please, baby– fu–ck, just a little more–!”

you’re insistent now, the tug at the root of his hair stings as you choke him out between your thighs. his nose crushes against you, hairs ticking his nose as you take rein of him. use him, and move him to relieve that ache in your belly, to push you right over the edge of the precipice.

he feels the warmth bloom in his pants, the linen now dark with ropes of thick cum soaking through. it’s damp in between his thighs, wet heat trapped in layers of cotton as he feels you reach nirvana. your hands push his head away to no avail, weak shoves to his forehead as he holds you in place— large hands pushing you closer towards him. clark feels the twitching of your pelvis, stuttering jerks into the air as he continues tonguing your sensitive hole.

every rough drag of his tongue against your swollen clit feels electric, still having not come down from your high— it’s too much to handle. you buck and whine into the air, complain about ‘s too much, clark! and ‘s enough, please, please!

clark’s greedy, needs more of what only you can give him. you’ve indulged him too much in your nectar, it’s all he wants, and he’ll do whatever makes you give it to him again. fall apart in his hands while he drinks you up entirely.

he’s relentless with his mouth. sloppy, open-mouthed kisses against your hole, and you feel something tight in your chest. like fire coursing through your veins, scorching hot and blinding.

“w— wait, wait! clark—”

it’s watery, saltier in taste. forceful in the way it sprays out against his glasses, beading down the lenses as he milks the last of it out of you. he groaned as it hit the back of his throat, gulped it down by instinct and felt his cock twitch back to life. hard, thick, and desperate for more than just the edge of the couch to get off on.

“can you do that for me one more time, sweetie?”

“yeah, i don't have to– but you just stole my spot on the front page this week, kent. cut me some slack here.” your chest heaved as you catch your breath, lips slick with his saliva. clark isn't a great kisser, evident in the way his tongue freezes when you do anything more than swirl around it. or the way clark drools too much, sliding down his chin and sticking to yours– so you had to pull a lot more than just your own weight.

clark eyes the sliver of black scalloped lace that creeps up from past your collar, and the way they cup your boobs just right– plush and threatening to spill over the padding. his mouth feels dry as he stares, swallowing down the lack of spit in his mouth.

he could feel the heat coming off your skin, singing his fingers as they feathers over your arms. you're upset, clearly. the knot in between your eyebrows is prominent, digging deeper into the muscle there as you look up at him through them. your lips are stuck in a permanent pout, corners pursed upwards unknowingly.

you quickly work off his belt, clasp clinking and echoing against the walls. the groan from his chest resonates loud as he feels the constriction of the linen dissipate, and you sit him down onto the toilet seat. it jabs into the thick muscle of his ass, uncomfortable in all the wrong ways, but he doesn't care. all clark can focus on is the dark of your irises and the way the overhead lights shine off them as you squat down in between his legs.

your nails scratch against his clothed shaft, the sting when you press down just the slightest bit has clark’s brain fogging over and bucking his hips up for more friction against your palm. his thighs tensed around your head, threatening to squeeze you in before you shot him a look through thick lashes, “clark.”

“m’sorry– sorry. that just felt, really good…” you could hear the sticky sound of him swallowing, eyes screwed shut. a moan rumbled from his chest, deep and guttural, when you squeezed around his confined length. his cock was fighting a losing battle against the cotton of clark's boxers, bulging and twitching, thick beads of precum soaking through the fabric.

a chuckle bubbles up in your throat, pointed as you laugh at him. clearly laden with something like mockery, seeing as you mimic him right after. his cheeks burn a deep red, this is humiliation. it has to be, you’re clearly making fun of him. but something about it has his heart thumping against his breastbone, drumming a beat so hard it floods his ears. his cock twitches again against your palm, “what was that, kent?”

he teethes on his bottom lip, face scrunched in something of embarrassment.

“did you like that? me, making fun of you?” your eyebrows knot together, disbelief evident in your face. the way your nostrils flare the slightest as you push out a breath, scoffing as you stare at him shake his head. curls bouncing every which way, glasses sliding down his nose as he burns an even deeper shade.

the acrylic tip of your nails scrape the skin of his stomach as it breaches down the band of his boxers, stretching them past his hulking shaft, and anchoring themselves just below his sack. they were tight and heavy, he needed to come. so badly, so, so badly– but you weren't letting him go out so easily. especially not after that.

“how shameless are you, kent? you’re so obvious, it’s almost cute.” you spit into your hand, large glob of warm saliva coating your fingers before spreading it on him. lubing up the tip, all the way down to the root.

try as he may, clark can’t lie to you. you tell him to “sit”, and sit he will. it’s hard to, when his heart races a mile a minute whenever he speaks to you.

sure, you may be coworkers, but it doesn't make it any easier to converse with you. you never entertain the questions clark seems to have, shutting him down with one-word answers at the coffee pot every morning. and how every single week, when the newspaper comes hot off the press, paper still warm between your fingers– clark kent seems to always have the front page spot, and you bore holes through his head from across the bullpen every time.

although, you “hate” him, dislike is a better word for it. you enjoy the way clark’s eyebrows cave downwards when you say it though, eyes all shiny and silently pleading. someone could argue it's cruel.

the cold feeling of your saliva slicking up his cock, had clark clutching the bar nailed into the wall in his grip. everything feels amped up to one hundred, every single one of his seven senses fried and sparking. he could come right now, clark needs to. he babbles and slurs his words together, please, i need to. i’m coming– coming–

“don’t come yet, clark, not yet—” your fingers clamp around the head of his cock as a form of a threat. the air in this stall suddenly seems so shallow, no matter how big of a breath he takes, it doesn’t stay. he feels the snap of the rope as your thumb plugs his hole, thick spurts ooze through the cracks as his entire body twitches violently, eyes glazed over as a whine rips out of his throat. it stings in his gut, tight and painful as his cum weeps out.

viscous and webbing in between your fingers, bead after bead rolling over the head. clark’s hips stutter into the air, chasing for a form of friction. just a li–ttle more, please, please, pleasee, voice tight in his throat as he scrunches his nose.

you click your tongue, disappointed. clark was greedy, couldn't listen to rules and now he’s left chasing a high right out of his reach.

“give me one more, c’mon.” clark’s cock chubs back to life against his thigh as you start up again, slim fingers coiling around his girth and dragging up and down. it feels like flying sparks, hot and sharp in his pelvis. he’s so sensitive, head lolling backwards against the tile as he whines into the air. he doesn't care who hears, who may find you both, your hand just feels way too good right now.

they ring in your ears as his moans leak out of your stall in the corner, walls struggling to contain the noise of clark’s whimpering as he humps against your hand. it’s uncoordinated and awkward, the stumble of his hips as they fight to chase reprieve and his fingers fumbling to keep themselves busy. it’s all too much, all but a chant of “more, more, more.” echoing in his head.

clark’s about to whine in complaint as your hand suddenly stops, squeezing the base of cock as it jerks violently on the edge. “w– what, why’d you do that. gi– give me more, ple-”

“be quiet, kent.” your hand slaps across his mouth, muffling the rest of his sentence. the click of heels against the floor sounds, louder as they approach your end of the aisle– stopping just 3 stalls away as you hear the door click. the booming drum of your heart against your ribs is deafening, just a couple more stalls down and you're caught red handed– so you do what you do best, improvise.

quietly, you peel the waistband of your panties off, down your legs, and avoiding the stiletto of your heels. clark's mind is racing a mile a minute between being stuck trying to figure out how to swallow down the noises threatening to spill and avoid getting caught, and what you're doing.

he catches the gleam of the string of your essence stuck on your panties, thick and gooey, and soaking through. your blouse covers the tops of your thighs, leaving the slick shine of your pussy to the imagination. he bites down on his bottom lip, fighting back a groan at the sight.

you stuff the gusset of your panties into his mouth, gosh, you're so sweet, he thinks. the taste of your slick coats his tongue, thick and overwhelmingly warm. you're musky in the way his nose catches it, well worn throughout the day and he savors it– the tang of sweat penetrating the fabric. stay quiet, is what he could make out from your lips as he writhes in the seat from impatience.

clark is impossibly cute: plush pink lips wrapped your fingers and panties stuffed deep in his mouth, the swell of his pecs bulging against his button-up and sweat soaking through, and cheeks glowing pink. his glasses are fogged over, askew on his nose as he squeezes his eyes shut again.

quickly, is the person gone, the flush of the toilet and the hand dryer your opportunities to jerk him off in quick bouts. the drilling noise of the dryer drowning out clark's yelps of pleasure and the noise of the toilet seat cracking against the ceramic bowl.

as soon as the door shuts closed, your hand pumps impossibly fast. the slick sounds of his lubed up cock are pornographic, squelch after squelch at the base of it. “three..”

“w– what?” he blinks at you slowly through blurry eyes, your wrist pumping quicker with every number you count down.

“two– c’mon clark, give it to me. come all over my hands, i know you want to.” your voice dips into something syrupy and languid, teasing the shell of his ear with every warm puff of your breath. the scrape of your thumb over the apex of his tip has him doubling over, leaning into your touch as he spills all over your hand. the spit-soaked cotton muffles the pitchy whine tearing through, rope after rope of his release shooting out from his cock, every violent throb– another squirt of seed dribbling out.

“there—ee we go, good boy, clark. let it out f’me…” his ears burn at the name, it’s diminishing. makes him feel small and pliant under you, good boy.

it has his head spinning.

you wipe the mix of bodily fluids onto the knee of clark’s slacks, leaving a dark patch in its wake. the fleeting warmth of your hand has him peeking up at you with one eye, still reeling from the overstimulation. “our fifteens are almost up, kent. gotta’ get back in there soon–" your hands smooth out the wrinkles in your skirt, "you should too— once you're done catching your breath.”

you slide the door lock open and spare him a quick glance from behind your shoulder, before leaving him alone in the stall. no goodbyes, no nothing– the same routine every time this happens.

although this time he gets to leave with a souvenir, and he couldn't be happier.