“I know. Mr. Wayne asked me to get one there for him a few months ago.” 

“Did you?” I lifted my shoulder, my bag sliding back up onto my shoulder.

“No, they've been booked out for a year. He doesn't keep his girlfriends long enough for that.” James laughed and I joined in. 

“That won't be us.” James's voice took on a husky edge and I grinned, happy little chills rippling over my skin. I didn’t think to ask how he got a table, or how long he had had it reserved, or who was originally going to be his companion. All I could think about was how I was going to be swept off my feet by him. I rounded the corner to my building. 

“I just made it home,” I said, my phone wedged between my cheek and my shoulder as I scanned myself into the front lobby. “I'll let you know when I'm on the way there.” 

“Okay honey. Wear that cute little red dress.” I huffed in mock annoyance.

“I can't wear that every time.” I could practically see him shrug on the other side of the line. 

“Well, you look sexy as hell in it. See you soon.” He hung up and I slipped my phone back into my purse. Now that I was under the overhang of my building, I shook out my wet umbrella, sending drops flying. I looked around one last time to no avail. No one. In a last desperate attempt to control my nerves, I scanned the buildings across from me. There were several dark blobs, power boxes and exhaust pipes, but nothing else. The longer I stared, I swore I saw one twitch. But when I focused harder, it didn't move again. I let out a weak laugh. 

I was going crazy.

°°°°°°°°

In the beginning, I had told myself that this was okay. I was just looking out for my employee. I wanted to make sure she got home safe. 

But now I knew there was something wrong with me. 

I've been following her for months. I knew her patterns after work. Which bus line she took if the train was too crowded. Her favorite bar for happy hour drinks. The bookstore she loved to go into on Tuesdays, just to see all the new covers. The designer dress she stared longingly at in the store window. I knew it all. 

The only reason I didn't know her morning routine was because it's harder to follow her in broad daylight. 

Spying on her wasn't the first, or last, thing on my criminal record. It was something I did often. You couldn't take down gang leaders without evidence. But that's not what this was. I was doing this for my own twisted, sick pleasure. 

I hated myself for it. 

She deserved privacy. Stalkers were the lowest of the low. They took away people's safety and their security in life. 

I wasn't doing that. I was just making sure she was okay. 

For hours. 

From across the street. 

That's how I knew I was fucked. Justifying crimes didn't make it any less criminal. But I couldn't stop. 

Her living room lights flicked on. I perked up, crouching behind my usual power box. Rain was cascading down my cheeks. The heat of the summer day was sweltering. I watched her slide off her heels, body visibly relaxing as she did. She hung her coat on the peg by the door before walking across her living room and turning on the TV. She flicked through a few apps before settling on music. 

I reached up, tapping the hidden receiver in my ear, twisting the knob until I could hear her music. I hadn’t gone so far as to bug her home. That was so far beyond what I could justify. But I had long ago developed a radio that could listen into rooms without me needing to enter them first. The music was soft and sensual. She disappeared around the corner and her bedroom light came alive. She kept this room permanently blocked off via opaque curtains. Except on Saturdays when she would tidy her apartment. 

I watched the barely there outline of her body through the fabric. If I wanted to, I could see her through my x-ray lenses, but I couldn’t bear the idea of invading her space to such an extent. So I settled for the teasing shadow of her curves.

Thirty minutes later, she was back in the living room. Her hair had been freshly curled, frizz smoothed away. She wore a slinky green dress that complimented her skin perfectly. I realized with a start what the music and her outfit meant. 

A date. With James Newton. I grimaced. 

I should have stepped in at the gala, stopped his charming claws from sinking into her, but I had been too late. She was smitten with him. I knew what he really was. James Newton was scum. I had already been gathering evidence of his crimes when he had shown up at the fundraiser. He was a smuggler of anything: drugs, humans, guns, illegal secrets. If it could be traded for money, he had his hands in it. 

Maybe it was time for me to finally snap the trap around him closed.

After all, protecting her was of the utmost importance. 

°°°°°°°°

I checked my phone once again. No messages. He was an hour late. I downed the last of my wine. Him being a little late wasn't uncommon. His importing business was successful enough to land him in Forbes. But he would usually send me at least a text to let me know. It was so strange for him to be this quiet. I had even sent him a racy picture in the restaurant bathroom. Nothing too scandalous, just one strap of my dress dangling low, enough to reveal the top curve of my breast. 

Still, nothing. 

The waiter passed me by again. The look of pity on his face made me want to crawl away in shame. “Still waiting?” He asked, voice delicate. My shoulders slumped in defeat.

“No.” He gave me a gentle smile. 

“Don't worry about the bill then.” I shook my head, already reaching for my wallet. “You've had a single glass of wine. It's okay. You don't need to pay for being stood up.” I noticed a woman at a nearby table shot me a look before whispering to her friend. Embarrassment made my cheeks burn and I ducked my head. 

“Thank you.” I hastily stood. I wanted to run full speed away from everyone’s pitying looks. But I fought back that urge and instead walked casually out of the restaurant, trying to hide how much my heart was aching. 

The next morning was hell. My body was sluggish and I could barely open my puffy eyes. I had stayed up too late, crying and watching junk TV, a box of cookies on my knee. I had never been ghosted this deep into dating before. After the first meeting it wasn't uncommon. I had done my fair share before as well. But I thought we were getting serious. All the way to the office, I was lost in my head. Maybe I did something wrong. Was I more into him than he was into me? Did he hate that I hadn't given him a nickname like he did me, even if I loathed honey bun? Maybe he was upset we hadn't had sex yet. I had hoped to remedy that last night. I was stuck in my own dry spell and wanted out of it as soon as possible. But I wanted to know he was serious before we made it that far.

I made it to my desk with a few minutes to spare. With a sigh, I collapsed into my chair, already feeling drained. I watched the small clock on my desk tick to eight with unfocused eyes. The moment the hour changed, I shook myself out of the sad, self deprecating fog I was under. I busied myself with gathering up various print outs and letters, highlighting key points of interest, before sorting them into their corresponding folders. Once I had collected it all in a neat stack, I walked to the large wood doors to my right. I knocked twice and a smooth voice told me to come in. 

Bruce Wayne, who I had been working as a personal assistant for for the past year and a half, glanced up at me, the piece of paper he had been reading fluttering to his desk top. This morning he was in a charcoal grey suit, jacket draped over the back of his chair, leaving him just in his button up and vest. His sleeves were rolled up, exposing thick veiny forearms that I was doing my best to ignore. There was a lock of black hair that had broken free from the gel keeping it contained. It dangled right between his eyebrows. 

“Good morning Mr. Wayne,” I called, walking briskly toward him, hoping this fast movement would cover up the little flush of pink on my cheeks. To say Bruce Wayne was handsome, sexy, hot would be like saying water is wet. Everyone knew it. Magazines ran cover stories with it. Models and actresses gushed about how they wished they could date him, have him for one night. When I first started my job here, I was starstruck every time he smiled at me. Those perfectly straight and white teeth blinded me. I was mesmerized by the thick bulge of muscles under his silk button ups. I wanted to trace every single wrinkle around his eyes and smooth away the ones that formed between his eyebrows when he was concentrating. He radiated power and sex appeal. I, nor anyone else, was immune to it. 

But I couldn't drool over my boss every time he was near me. So I slowly got used to his smiles and the flex of fabric across his thighs. That didn't mean I never got butterflies around him anymore. They awoke, fluttering in my stomach with reckless abandon, when he grinned up at me. I wanted to melt into the ground. “Good morning!” He slid the loose piece of hair back with the others, slicking his greying temples back for good measure. “What do you have for me?” 

As I laid out my folders, I listed them off. “You have fifteen meetings today.” He groaned, a deep throaty sound that made my blood heat and body shudder. Stop thinking about your boss groaning in bed! I cleared my throat, hoping he didn't notice my reaction, before continuing. “A few of them are pretty basic, I know you can keep up with it.” 

“You're always so complimentary.” Most people would have taken what I said as an insult. But his tone was all playful teasing and when I peeked over at him, it was to see a soft smile on his handsome face. I returned it before settling my hip on the edge of his desk.

“I happen to know you can charm the pants off anyone.” Something dark flashed in his eyes, but in a blink, it was gone. “And you are pretty good at talking on your toes. However, I did print off the specs for the new Wayne Tech transmitter pods. I figured you wouldn't remember that,” I squinted theatrically at the paper, then shook my head with a laugh, “I don't understand any of this so I can't even make a joke.”

Bruce plucked the paper from my fingers before slipping it back into the sleek green folder it had come from. “I appreciate the effort anyways.” The praise, as minimal as it is, ran over me like warm water. He was never shy with compliments, always saying he liked my haircut or new shoes, but I wanted to bask in them like he would never give one again. It felt extra sweet today after being humiliated by James. 

I tapped at a black folder. “This is the print out for your hopeful Metropolis expansion. Here are the documents Mr. Fox wanted to go over with you at lunch.” Bruce blinked. 

“Lunch? I didn't realize I had one with him.” 

“You've been avoiding him.” Bruce huffed, a small twist at the corner of his lips. My heart stuttered. I had overstepped. Bruce usually appreciated it when I made lunch plans for him. He always said there're too many good places in Gotham and he can't pick. “I'm sorry,” I rushed out, “I can call him and reschedule-” 

“Where are we eating?” I paused. The quiet went long enough that his crystal blue eyes met mine. “I'm not mad.” I scratched at my cheek, breaking eye contact. There were times where it felt like he could read my mind. He could be far too accurate in his assurances. Or maybe I was too easy to read.  “Where are we eating?" He was gently putting me back on the tracks of our conversation. 

I rifled through the red folder and tugged out four sheets of paper. “Here are some places with good lunch specials. Let me know which one you would pick and I can make a reservation.” His gaze swept down the menus.

“What about Harbor? I heard they had excellent sea food. Also that it was easier to get a reservation at lunch over dinner.” He chuckled humorlessly, still nursing the sting of his missed dinner. My refreshed mood soured. There must have been a hint of pain on my face because Bruce looked up at me with a worried expression. “Have you been there?” I sighed, straightening the sleeves of my blouse unnecessarily, just to give my fluttering tension somewhere to go. 

“Technically yes, but I didn't get any food.” I didn't want to admit to Bruce that it was far out of my price range. Even though he paid me triple what I made at my previous job, I simply couldn't justify spending a hundred dollars on a salad. The only reason I was there was because that price wouldn't have made James flinch. I could feel my body heating, anger and embarrassment flooding back into me. Everyone in the dining room could probably tell I didn’t belong. “I was actually supposed to have a date,” the word stuck awkwardly in my throat, “there last night.”

“With James Newton?” A bubble of confused laughter erupted from me. 

“How did you know that?” I could have sworn I saw a flash of worry cross his face before it was smoothed away. 

“He mentioned you last time we spoke. He seemed pretty serious.” The words bring a flicker of hope to me. Maybe this was all some weird misunderstanding. Maybe his phone died…and he's never plugged it back in. Stop making excuses for that man! 

“He stood me up,” my tone was bitter and I instantly bit my lip. Bruce let out a soft, sad sigh and opened his mouth to speak but I waved my hand. “Honestly, it's fine. It hurt in the moment, but it's okay, I'm okay.” Which wasn't remotely true but the last thing I wanted to do was hash out the painful details with my boss. No matter how relaxed our professional relationship is, he wasn't a friend.

Bruce examined my face, his eyes practically burning my skin as they traced me. It felt like he was trying to pick me apart. My poker face must have been better than I thought it was because he gave a small nod. “Okay,” he said before reaching out and giving my wrist a reassuring squeeze. My heart fluttered at the feel of his rough fingers along the sensitive skin of my wrist. It must have been my imagination running away with me because it felt like he traced faint shapes along my pulse point. But his hand disappeared quickly as he opened a folder and shuffled through the papers. My wrist itched from the lingering electricity from his touch. “Is this all you have for me?” I slid from his desk, straightening my skirt. 

“Yes Mr. Wayne.” The high pitched ringing of the phone at my desk broke the relative quiet of the office. He gave me a nod, eyes glued to the folder in front of him. I bustled out of his office and snagged the phone on the last ring. “Office of Bruce Wayne, how can I help you?” 

The rest of the morning passed slowly. There was a steady stream of emails and phone calls but nothing distracting enough. I couldn’t stop checking my phone. At four in the morning, James had read my message, which meant he was just ignoring me. I finally dragged myself down to the cafe around the corner where I picked moodily at my sandwich. When I made it back to my desk, I paused. A vase of very expensive flowers sat at the edge. They were all brightly colored, their blooms large, and were expertly arranged. There was a spark of excitement that these were from James but it faded when I looked at the card. It was blank. Deflated, I dropped into my chair with all the grace of a rhino. More hours slipped by. A little before five, Bruce waved goodbye and left for a dinner meeting. I quickly followed after him. 

The humidity was like a thick blanket as I made my way home. There was a trail of sweat along my spine by the time I reached my cool apartment. I wandered into my bedroom and changed out of my work clothes, slipping into sleep shorts and a thin tank top. I crawled into bed, my eyelids already feeling heavy, and scrolled mindlessly on my phone. 

°°°°°°°°

I had rushed through my dinner meeting. It was a business deal I already knew I wasn't going to go with but I needed to humor them anyways. All I could think about was her. She had tried to cover up her tired eyes with makeup but I wasn't known for missing details. Guilt had gnawed at me the entire time we talked. I did that to her, whether she knew it or not didn't matter. I was the reason she was embarrassed last night. I was the reason she had been crying. The look of pain across her too pretty face was because of me. Then, I couldn’t help but dig the knife deeper into her by asking about that restaurant. There was some sick satisfaction in hearing the bitterness coating her words while talking about him. I had stopped the relationship before it could continue, before she could get dragged too deep into his life. 

I knew I had done the right thing. James Newton wasn't a man anyone should be involved with. He was cruel and violent. I had the bruises and bullet graze on my torso to show that. The things I saw in his office, locked away in his bulky safe, had turned my stomach. Gotham was better with him off the street. 

How could I pretend to be any better than him? Once I got into his phone, I saw the picture she had sent him. She looked like sin walking. Her hair mused as if she had just had sex, her lips glossy, the line of her breast making my mouth water. Before I could think, before my own morals had caught up with me, I sent the picture to myself and wiped it from his phone. The picture wasn't his anymore. 

It's mine. 

She'd been asleep for a few hours now. Her apartment had drifted dark slowly as evening descended. It's nights like this where I'm grateful for my auto cooling suit. The second I feel a bead of sweat form, it's wiped away by a cycle of cold air. My suit has its limits in function though. Nothing could help ease the aches in my body. Age and brutal treatment had finally caught up to me. My knees especially hurt from crouching across her street. I often had to stretch to loosen the stiff muscles. 

It was mid stretch, a small groan of pain escaping me, when I heard the gasp of my name. I froze. I must have misheard. But there it was again. 

“Bruce…” 

My head whipped to her apartment. It was still dark. Panic shot through me like a bolt of lightning. What if she was in danger? I turned up my receiver to hear her better and turned my vision to x-ray. I was able to see the outlines of furniture and clothes strewn across the floor but no clean details.

My heart practically stopped.

She was laying on her bed, legs spread wide, fingers dipping under her tiny shorts. Though hard to see with my barely there sight, I could make out the quick movements of her knuckles against the fabric. 

I squeezed my eyes shut. 

“Bruce!” My name in her breathy voice made me feel lightheaded. It was as if my senses were solely focused on her now. The wet sounds her pussy made as she played with herself. The tiny hitches in her breathing as she got closer. My cock was growing harder and I had to shift in my suit to accommodate it. It was pinched awkwardly. Surprisingly, getting hard while fighting crime had never crossed my mind so I never gave myself enough room.

Then all the noises stopped. I made a pathetic noise in the back of my throat. Disgust at myself for eavesdropping had lost to the all consuming feeling of wanting to hear her moans. It didn't sound like she had come. I inched my eyes open to find her digging through her side table. She withdrew something long and thick before tugging off her shorts. I clamped a hand over my mouth while the other tried desperately to get my cock to calm down. 

It wasn't working. 

The dildo, smaller and slimmer than my own cock, slid into her with a squelch. We let out twin groans. She set a quick pace, pistoning the plastic toy in and out of her with one hand, while the other continued to play on her clit. Now that I had allowed myself to look, I couldn't stop. I was completely fixated on the outline of her body, her trembling thighs, the hard peaks of her nipples in her thin tank top. So fixated that I almost missed what she was saying. 

“You're so big Bruce.” She made a hiccuping noise. “Ah-you fuck me so good!” I had never been so hard in my life. It felt like all of the blood had rushed south, leaving me woozy. I could faintly see her eyes fluttering closed. With a rough thrust, she lodged the dildo as deep as it would go, before the fingers on her clit nearly blurred with how fast they moved. With a sob of my name, she came, hips pushing up and against an invisible body. 

I gritted my teeth, the heel of my palm pressed so hard against my aching cock it hurt, and struggled not to come in my suit. I took several deep breaths and mentally began organizing all of my case files in alphabetical order. Anything to drive away the sound of her crying out my name while coming. I got to names starting with C when I finally felt myself relax. I sighed in relief. 

I stood, stretching my back with a few pops, before I focused back onto her apartment. She had walked to her bathroom and was crouched over the sink, washing the toy clean. 

An idea popped into my head. 

It was an extreme idea. 

That was exactly what Batman did. 

°°°°°°°°

I left the dildo propped upright in the bathroom to dry and then washed my hands. This wasn't the first time I had dreamed of Bruce. At first, he was a background character in whatever wacky thing my brain had conjured up. It was three months into working for him that they started to turn more sensual. The first dream was pretty tame, a nonsensical date that led into a heavy makeout. But they've now morphed into something stronger, more realistic. 

This one was in the office. When I came in to give him the morning report, he asked me to sit in his lap. The rumble of his chest along my back had felt so real. At some point, maybe with dream logic, I was completely naked and bent over his desk. Then he started fucking me with a ridiculously big dick. It felt so good in my dream that I was drooling. I had woken up with a jolt. My body was hot and my panties were soaked through. So I took it into my own hands…literally. 

I cleaned my inner thighs and between my legs with a damp towel before wandering back into my bedroom. My shorts had been tossed haphazardly to the side of my bed and I pulled them, along with fresh underwear, back on. Just as I reached down to grab my phone, my stomach growled. I huffed in amusement. Clearly horny out weighed the feeling of hunger in my brain. So I spent the next ten minutes scrolling through a food delivery app before giving up and getting my usual order. The delivery time was a little over an hour away which would give me just enough time to watch the next episode in the show I've been binging. 

I padded out into my living room, cursing myself for not turning a lamp on when I got home. I fumbled for a light switch to bathe my apartment in warm but dim light. 

My phone fell to the ground with a deafening clatter. 

There, tucked into the corner by my patio door, was Batman. 

The fucking Batman. 

Terror rooted me to the spot. I could feel my heart rate increasing, my chest jumping with quickened breaths. My brain was desperately trying to come up with a reason why he was here. There was that one time I forgot to pay for a pack of gum and accidentally walked out with it but that didn’t seem like a serious enough crime to hunt me down. 

While I stood, petrified, Batman detached himself from the wall. His cape whispered along my floor as he took three careful steps forward. “You're not in trouble.” His voice was like gravel, deep and gruff, and it sent tingles down my body. “I just want to ask you some questions.” The knot of anxiety in my chest loosened slightly. I bent down to retrieve my phone and gripped it tight in my hand, ready to throw it at his head if I needed to run. 

“Okay,” I squeaked. My cheeks heated at how pathetic I sounded. Batman's head titled, the shadows of his ears shifting behind him. His eyes were covered by white lenses, obscuring their shape and color, but that wasn't enough to stop the weight of his gaze from settling on me. When the silence lengthened, I grew restless. My stiff legs finally responded to my internal shouts of move and took me to my kitchen. With trembling hands, I grabbed a glass, and filled it with some water. He watched my moves intently. It felt like he was trying to x-ray me. I sipped at the water, my eyes locked onto the white glass of his mask. The silence stretched painfully long. 

“You aren't good at asking questions.” I nearly jumped straight off my balcony. Who the hell did I think I was? When did I grow a strong enough backbone to give sass to a giant man who had broken into my home? My body didn't know what to do with the sudden burst of stress so I gulped down the last of my water and nearly choked on it. 

The corners of Batman's lips quirked up. It wasn't quite a smirk, much less than a smile. The panic in me ebbed away a little more. He walked closer, his boots whisper quiet on my tiled floor, before he stopped at my kitchen island, his hip pressed against the marble. “I'm sorry.” He really did sound apologetic which surprised me. I had figured the last thing he felt was remorse. “Did you have a relationship with James Newton?” I scowled. It didn't go unnoticed. “Were you two having issues?” 

“No, we were…fine I suppose. We just went out a few times, that was it.” It felt like a rubber band snapped together in my head and I realized what he was asking. “Wait. Is he in trouble? Did something happen at work?” Batman's face was impassive.

“Did you know what he did for work?” I nodded slowly, not quite understanding what this had to do with anything. “Tell me.” The command in his voice made my body heat. The post orgasm haze was still alive and well it seemed. 

“He was an importer and exporter.” When Batman didn't speak again, I shrugged. “I don't know. We didn't really talk about this stuff.” 

“How did you meet him?” It felt more like my nosey neighbor asking me questions than an interrogation.

“A work…thing,” I finished lamely. Mentioning who my boss was, that he was the richest man in all of Gotham, often made people a little too interested in me. Bruce's name was like a siren call to tech wannabes and the money hungry. More than once I had been duped into meeting someone I thought I could grow a relationship with, platonic or romantic, just for them to pass me their business card. Maybe that's why James had been so easy to be with. He didn't need the money. He was almost as rich as Bruce. I wasn't going to be a pawn in his game. 

Batman cocked his head and stayed silent. My lips pressed into a thin line. When he seemed content to sit and wait for me to elaborate, I huffed. “I'm the personal assistant to Bruce Wayne and we met at a Wayne Foundation Gala. He asked me out and I said yes.” I straightened, the color leeching from my face. “Is Bruce in trouble too? Their companies worked together a lot.” If I needed to start the job hunting process after settling into my current position so well, I would end up being thrown into Arkham.

“No.” I sighed in relief. “Did you ever go over to James's house? Was there ever any interactions that seemed strange at the time?” I mulled the question over. On our third date, we did go to his ultra luxury penthouse. I remembered standing in the entrance way, mouth wide open in shock, before he led me to his home theater. But there wasn't anything out of the ordinary. 

I relayed as much to Batman before stopping myself short. “Wait.” I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to pull all the pieces of the memory back together. “About halfway through the movie, someone came in. I think it was a security guard or something because he was huge. I couldn't hear them super well, James had cranked the sound, but I think the guy mentioned someone wanting to see James. He went pale and came and sat next to me. But we finished the movie and he sent me home in a taxi. It didn't seem too strange at the time.”

I opened my eyes and found Batman far closer than when I last saw him. Now he stood in the middle of my kitchen, his body absorbing up the space completely. He was looking down at me, his thick arms crossed in front him, the leather of his suit creaking at the strain. Now that he was closer, I could see the lines of his face. Despite only seeing the lower half, I could tell he was handsome under that mask. He had a sharp jawline, covered in a fine dusting of facial hair, and lips that just begged to be kissed. My focus drifted down and lingered on the firm lines of his torso. He was shredded despite, or maybe because of, him being in the superhero business since I was in high school. He must have insane stamina to be able to fight all night. Can he do other things all-get a grip!

I shook myself free from the lewd ideas swirling around in my head. I meet his eyes again, guilt written all over my face. He didn't say anything. But, like a physical touch, I felt him examining me. He traced along my shoulders, up my bare legs, and across my breasts, before settling back on my face. As he looked, his head titled, chest expanding on a few quick breaths before he calmed himself. I struggled to comprehend what had just happened. Batman…checked me out? 

No, no. There was no way. 

I remembered that I had been telling him about James. 

“Does that help?” I hated that the words came out breathy. 

“Yes, thank you. That's very good.” I shivered and felt my nipples tighten under my thin tank top. My love of praise usually stopped at giddy happiness. With the addition of his husky voice, my body was having strange, way too sexual, reactions. I crossed my arms over my breasts in a self conscious attempt to cover them. He took another step closer, putting him in arms reach. “Have you ever been to his office?” 

“No.” I sighed, brushing some loose hairs from my face, "I'm not being helpful. I'm sorry but we honestly didn't see each other often.” I turned and filled my cup with more water, just to give myself something to do. I had wanted to give him some earth shattering piece of information, something that would make him gasp in shock, but I've realized that me and James didn't really spend any time together. “Why are you here? What did he do?” I should have asked this the moment Batman showed up but his mere presence sapped me of my ability to think. 

I jumped, half of my water sloshing over the side of my cup, when I felt Batman's breath along my neck. “The things he imported weren't legal.” I shuddered at his voice in my ear and my eyes fluttered closed. My mind, which should be focusing on the fact that I had been dating a smuggler, instead drifted to what his rough voice would sound like while his fingers pushed themselves into me. I felt the phantom press of his chest against my back. His suit was cool along my bare arms. “Did he ever hurt you?” There was an edge to his words, as if the idea that James would do anything to me was too much.

I turned toward him, our bodies flush together, and blinked up at him. His head was bent low, bringing him close enough to smell the sharp mint of his breath. There was even a hint of a cologne as he inched closer. It was warm and spicy but had an undertone of something woodsy. His hands landed on either side of my hips, his thick arms caging me in. “No he didn't,” I whispered. My heart was thudding in my chest. Any anxiety or fear of this man had disappeared and left me only feeling anticipation. He leaned his forehead against mine. 

A few moments of silence passed. Our breaths mingled as we exhaled, my chest moving several breaths faster than his. I could feel the firm lines of his torso, the dips and ridges of well defined pecs and abs. Heat was starting to build as our bodies were kept so close. “Why does it feel like you're going to kiss me?” He let out a low rumble of a chuckle and I gripped the edge of the counter to stop my shudder. 

“Do you want me to?” His voice had dropped lower, the rough edge gaining more grit. I licked my lip with one long pass. He shifted closer as his breath caught in his throat.

“Yes.” The word escaped me in a barely audible whisper. It was true but it made me feel too desperate. Just as I opened my mouth to take it back, his lips found mine. It was just a gentle press, chaste and sweet. But it made something hungry burst in my chest. I lifted my head higher and chased after his lips with a faint growl. He quietly chuckled but met me half way. 

Our mouths moved against each other's like two desperate magnets, parting to readjust, before being drawn back together. My greedy hands dragged up his arms, squeezing at the thick layer of muscles along them, before I curled my arms around his neck, drawing him closer. One of his arms wrapped itself around my waist while the other drifted up my spine before cupping the back of my head with his large hand. Using that leverage alone, he easily lifted me from the ground, settling me on my counter. My back arched, a weak gasp escaping me, as the freezing cold marble touched my hot thighs. 

His lips left mine, his heavy breathing coasting across my wet lips. “Did I hurt you?” I shook my head, my legs snaking around his waist, pulling him as close as humanly possible. While I understood the need for it, that didn't stop me from feeling a spark of annoyance at the hard cup he was wearing. I needed to know that he was just as turned on as I was. My underwear and thin shorts were doing nothing to obscure how wet I was getting. My mouth caught his once more, tongue darting out to tease at the seam of his lips. 

A deep groan rumbled in his chest as he surged closer. The hand at the base of my head moved up to cushion my skull from banging on my cupboards. His fingers knotted into my hair, not to yank, just to hold. My hips jerked at the feeling, grinding against him. He let out another strangled noise as the arm around my waist shifted. His palm landed on my stomach, his fingertips peeking under my thin tank top. “More?” He mumbled between kisses. 

“Yes, yes, yes.” Something feral was working its way out of me. I was ravenous. If he would have asked me to, I would have let him bend me over the counter top and fuck me. No one else had ever gotten this reaction from me. Maybe it was the air of danger or the mask or his shredded body that was pulling all my sexual appetite to the surface. It was probably all three. My year long dry spell had clearly wreaked havoc on my sex drive. All sense of shame had left me and all I felt was gnawing need. So, I didn't feel an ounce of embarrassment when my hips started to grind against his.

Batman's breath stuttered, chest heaving, before he was meeting my hips with just as much force. The friction and pressure ached. My clit was practically crushed against him. But that pain only seemed to heighten my desperation. It made this seem so much more illicit, so much dirtier. His hand snaked up my torso, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. He reached my breast and kneaded it once before his thumb strummed over my peaked nipple. Electricity shot through my body from that touch alone. His lips moved from mine, my pants filling the quiet apartment, as he began to kiss down my neck. “Feels good,” I gasped. The thumb at my nipple continued its flicking, forcing weak little whimpers out of me with every stroke. 

I could feel wetness pooling between my legs, soaking through my underwear and shorts, that familiar burning hot coil starting to heat my stomach. That heat was only doubled when his fingers flexed in my hair, pulling my head back, my neck completely exposed to him. His slick lips traced my collar bones, teeth grazing my flushed skin, before drifting down to the top of my breast. The hand holding it pushed it higher, my nipple peaking just above the line of my tank top. “Fuck,” he breathed, tongue darting out to tease-

My shrill door buzzer rang out. 

I jumped at the noise, head colliding with my cabinet door handle. Batman paused, his hot breath coasting over my exposed nipple, before straightening up. His hands slipped from me and he untangled himself from the death grip of my legs. He took five steps away, crossing his arms over his chest. “Expecting someone?” I blinked at him as I rubbed at my aching head.

“No I'm n-” My brain felt sluggish from the intense rush of adrenaline and endorphins. “Wait, oh,” I reached for my phone. Sure enough, my food had been delivered to the front desk, accompanied with an obligatory photo. “I ordered some food. I, uh, totally forgot.” He gave a curt nod. All that tension, that build of desire inside my chest, was leaving me like a leaky balloon. “If I leave, you won't be here when I get back, will you?” A frown twitched at his lips before it was wiped away. 

“Gotham needs me.” I nodded. We stared at each other for a long, quiet minute. I wanted to beg him to stay, all my insecure neediness rearing its ugly head. A part of me was already questioning what had happened. Maybe Batman just made out with anyone. There was no way I, a random assistant, would be important enough to reduce Gotham's savior to a panting, groaning, dry humping mess. 

It was this swirling self doubt that made me miss Batman's quick footsteps back towards me. His gloved hands cupped my cheeks, lifting my face to his, and kissed me again. It was gentle, almost affectionate. My eyes fluttered closed as I tried to lean into him. He drew back before I could. His nose bumped against mine, thumbs brushing my cheeks. “Go get your food.” His voice was soft, dripping over me like honey. My stomach decided now was the time to growl out its hunger. I chuckled awkwardly. “Case in point.” 

“I'll have to change first,” I said, sliding from the countertop. The last thing I needed the poor front desk worker to see was my hard nipples and damp shorts. I padded across my living room, turning at my bedroom door, just to make sure he was real, and I hadn't just hallucinated the entire interaction. He stood next to my patio door, cloaked in shadows and imposing. 

I walked into my room, changing into a thicker shirt and fresh shorts. At this rate I was going to run out of clean underwear. When I walked back out, I stopped in my tracks. 

He was gone. 

I didn't even hear my overly squeaky patio door open. He had simply vanished. A feeling of abandonment spiked through me and I tried to quickly wave it away. I knew he would leave eventually. But that didn't stop my shoulders from deflating as I left for the front desk. Once I had retrieved my food and made it back to my apartment, I noticed something on my counter. It was a small piece of notebook paper. There was a phone number listed and a little note at the bottom: 

For anything.

-B

“So,” I hummed, pulling the word out for a few syllables, “you said we can talk?” Our fingers intertwined, his thumb rubbing soothing circles along the back of my hand. “Is that a later thing?” He gazed down at me, tenderness written all over his attractive face. “Or, could it be a tonight thing?” He arched an eyebrow and I flushed. “I didn’t mean it like-” I cut myself off, feeling flustered. It sounded so salacious. “It’s just that all of this,” I gestured vaguely at him, “has been a lot to process. And I know myself well enough to know that it’ll be the only thing I can think of.” 

“Maybe I like the idea of you thinking of me.” His voice was smooth, almost sultry. I bit my lip, holding eye contact for a beat, before I glanced away. If only he knew just how much I’ve been thinking of him. “But, tonight works. Do you want to come to my place?” 

“Okay,” I replied, excitement buzzing in my chest. The idea of Superman's apartment hadn't ever crossed my mind. I had thought he wouldn't even need to sleep and his alien physiology would just keep him awake. “Let me get my coat first.” I tugged him behind me as I walked to the door. 

All the outdoor lights that had kept the makeshift catwalk bright had been shut off, leaving it dark and gloomy. Snow was still falling, covering everything in a thick layer of white. The driver from earlier was waiting just outside the door, my jacket draped over his arm. As I eased outside, my teeth started to chatter, goosebumps rising across my bare skin. The driver held out my jacket and I gratefully slipped into it, buttoning it closed in an attempt to keep the frigid wind out. “I actually won't need the car. Thank you, but I'm going home with a friend.” The man examined me then Clark, before giving a curt nod. 

Once we were down the wide front steps, my feet only slipping once on a hidden patch of ice, Clark wrapped his arm around my trembling shoulders. The heat from his body made me sigh. I wanted to tackle him to the ground and steal all of it away with my greedy hands. The sidewalks were empty, both the winter weather and the late hour keeping them clear, and only the occasional taxi would whiz by on the road. “The nearest subway station is three blocks away.” My feet wailed in protest. Some of that sound must have trickled out of me because he chuckled. “Otherwise we can fly. It'll be cold but much faster.” 

“Fly,” I responded without a second thought. We passed by a cramped alley between two brick buildings and Clark guided me inside. It was dark, the street lamp's light not reaching this deep. He reached out and turned the collar of my jacket up. His hands anxiously danced over me and I giggled. “My jacket doesn't have any holes. I'll be okay.” He huffed, scratching at his jaw. 

“I just want to make sure.” His arms slid across my back before hooking under my knees. It felt odd for a man who looked like a tired office worker to lift me so effortlessly. My heart was racing. Not just from him holding me, that was the cause of my hot cheeks, but because I still associated flying with my near death. He had caught me in the end but I still felt that choking panic. 

A cold nose nudged my cheek. “Are you okay?” Clark's words sent warm breath across my neck and I shivered, not entirely from the cold. “I can hear your heart beating fast.” I wrapped my arms around his neck as I snuggled deeper against him. 

“You can hear it?” He hummed in confirmation. “I'm okay. I just don't have the best association with flying.” I squeezed my arms, shifting so I could look at him, our noses bumping together. “I know you won't drop me.” 

“Never.” I couldn’t tear myself away from him. The tiny voice in the back of my mind, the one that wanted to kiss him while we danced, was shouting now. He was so close, his lips red from the cold air. Just as I leaned in closer, his breath dancing across my lips, I noticed movement. I jerked back and his arms tightened around me to stop my body from toppling out of his grip. We were gradually floating up toward the open sky. “I was hoping to distract you longer,” he grumbled. As we finally reached the top of the buildings, we were hit with a wall of wind. He turned his body, using it to block the worst of it from me. My hands slipped under his own jacket, the knuckles already stiff from the cold. “Ready?” I nodded. 

I wasn’t. 

The entire flight took a minute. I kept my face buried deep in his neck, desperate to keep my nose from freezing off and to ignore the colors flying past. But his arms were like iron rods around me, firm and immoveable, and he kept my body completely still. The panic was still there but it wasn’t all consuming. But I was grateful when we slowed to a stop. He reached out, my back balanced on his forearm, and twisted a latch. We glided inside, blessedly hot air touching my frozen cheek. “Keep your eyes closed,” he sounded embarrassed, “please?” He stood me upright, my heels clicking against hard wood. I faced out over the city, the massive windows perfectly framing the harbor. To my side, he closed one of the windows, turning a latch to lock it. I nearly rolled my eyes. As if anyone could find their way up here. I made a big show of covering my eyes with my hands, wincing at the cold press of them against my skin. “Thank you,” he whispered. I could have sworn I felt a featherlight kiss to my hair. A sudden rush of wind sent my hair whipping around my head. My ears picked up something that sounded like rapid footsteps and the scrape of a door opening and closing. “Okay,” he said, “you can open them.” My hands dropped slowly to find him fidgeting with the cuffs of his shirt. I spun and examined his apartment. 

It was moodily lit, only a few tall lamps turned on, the light bouncing off his dark walls. There was a leather chair right next to the windows. I had a brief thought about him sitting in it to tug on his boots before saving the world. A matching leather couch, a low coffee table in front of it, finished the living room. Bar stools were tucked neatly under the kitchen island. It all felt clean but no less like a home. My eyes snagged on a sock half way to the bedroom. I bit back a smile. All that commotion was him picking up. 

“It's so…you.” It's inviting and cozy but practical. I unbuttoned my jacket and Clark hastily took it from me before hanging it on a peg. Of course he has a jacket rack next to his window. Now that I'm somewhere so normal, my dress felt extra ridiculous, and the first thing that needed to go were these painful shoes. I walked to the chair before sitting down. The dangling beads made a soft tinkling sound as they bounced against the leather. I worked my foot out from under the pool of fabric and reached down to undo the ankle strap. My fingers shook and refused to cooperate as I tried to open the tiny buckle. The shaking was either from being in his apartment, Superman's apartment, or the lingering fear from flying. Either way, it was making this very hard. 

“Let me help.” Before I could protest, tell him that I got them on and I can take them back off, he's kneeling before me. My breath stuttered in my chest. His hand cupped my ankle before balancing the stiletto heel on his thigh. The dim light managed to catch on his eyelashes, sending soft shadows across his cheeks as his eyes fluttered down. Those nimble fingers I had been admiring from across the crowded party slipped between my ankle and the leather strap. He worked the buckle loose and eased the heels off. 

I couldn’t stop looking at him. He was treating me like I was something to worship. Someone to kneel for and take care of. It wasn't a feeling I was used to and it was making my attraction to him spiral out of control. I wanted him on his knees more. I wanted him to drag those long fingers up my thighs. I wanted his head to disappear under my dress-

“You're bleeding.” 

“Huh?” I sounded dazed. His gaze flicked to mine, a teasing smirk on his lips. He was well aware of what he was doing to me. Jerk. There was another strong gust of wind. I felt his touch disappear for a second before his rough hand was back around my ankle. In his free hand he held an already opened bandaid. He placed it over a blister along the side of my foot, pressing it securely. “Thank you,” I whispered. His hand squeezed my calf once as a response and shifted his attention to my other foot. 

“So,” Clark prompted as he worked the other shoe off of me, “what did you want to talk about?” I sighed in relief once my feet were free of their prisons. I tilted my head to the side to look down at him. Might as well rip the metaphorical bandaid off. 

“What do you want out of our relationship? Friendship? Something…more?” I tried not to inject too much hope with that last one but I knew I failed. It felt too honest. He leaned closer, his chin resting on my knee. 

“Are you open to,” he seemed flustered by his next word, “more?” His hands drifted under my dress again, fingers digging deep into the stiff muscles of my calves. A quiet moan escaped me.

“Yes,” I said immediately. It was embarrassing how desperate I sounded. “Only if you want it too,” I added hastily. There was a long pause where he simply looked at me. I shifted my body back from him and squeezed my eyes shut, my skin feeling itchy and too tight. I felt like I was forcing myself onto him or that I was about to be made fun of for my eagerness. His grip disappeared from my legs. I heard the leather arms of the chair creak. A weight settled between my legs, the dress stretched tight around my thighs to accommodate the wide torso. Two fingers pinched my chin and tilted my head. Warm breath coasted over my lips. 

“I'll give you everything I can.” I shuddered at the rasp of his voice. When I eased my eyes back open, it was to find him nearly nose to nose with me. “I'll miss dates. I work long hours at the Planet.” I inched closer to him and his voice dropped to whisper. “I can't always be with you.” I knew that. To date Superman meant I could only have him when the world wasn't falling apart. That seemed as likely as the sun not rising. I would have to share him with billions of people. He would never be mine alone. But Clark would be and that seemed all the sweeter.

“I'm going to kiss you now.” I didn't wait for him to respond before I captured his lips. They were a little chapped, most likely from the cold, but I didn't care. This kiss was slow, our lips exploring each other with lazy presses. It felt like heaven. It had been so long since I kissed someone with no rush, just for the joy of it. My arms draped over his shoulders, fingers settling along a thick ridge of muscle on his back. I leaned back, trying to catch my breath. His hand braced against my neck, keeping me close, a tiny whine of protest rumbling in his throat. 

I moaned and began to kiss him in earnest. I sucked his bottom lip between my teeth and bit it lightly. He groaned and I shivered at the sound. I wanted, needed, more of them. My tongue pushed between his lips, brushing along his. There was something sweet there, as if he snuck away with a few cookies at the party. His free arm looped around my waist and dragged me flush against him. I licked at his top lip before tilting my head more, angling our mouths better, our now wet lips slipping past each other. 

I nudged my shoulders against his, trying to signal him to lay back on the floor. He did so without any more prompting, his back thudding against the hardwood, taking my body with him. My hands shot out to brace myself. I leaned back, chest heaving, and drew my dress up my hips to ease the pressure of the tight fabric. I felt a slick heat pool between my thighs at the obscene sight below me. He blinked slowly, my lipstick smeared across his kiss swollen lips, foundation smudged on his glasses. I settled my hips down and felt something hard under me. The fabric of his slacks was achingly rough against my bare pussy. The hours of uncomfortableness in my too low cut dress was worth it just for this feeling. 

I braced my hands against his broad chest, hips giving an experimental roll. He bit his lip, hands diving under the piled fabric of my dress, to grip my hips tight. A pained noise ripped from his throat at the bare expanse of my skin. “You aren’t wearing underwear,” he breathed. 

“Couldn't with this dress.” He moaned, eyes squeezed shut, neck arching and his hips thrusted up under me. My lips latched on to his neck, sucking and licking and biting at the skin. He was making mindless, desperate gasps, hips pushing against mine, hands trembling on my waist. A wet spot was forming on his pants from where I ground against him. The fabric bit at my tender skin but I was too drunk off his noises and the taste of the sweat along his neck to notice. As waves of pleasure started to build inside me, I grew more messy in my kisses. My teeth scraped along his racing pulse point and he shuddered beneath me before letting out a strangled moan of my name as I bit into his skin. I expected it to feel like steel but my teeth sunk into him easily. My tongue lapped at the quickly fading teeth marks, soothing away the sting. 

His body shifted under mine. In a heartbeat, I found my body pinned under his. His lips were back on mine, kissing me like he was starving, all spit and tongue. His hands disappeared from my waist and I heard the clattering of his belt buckle. A trickle of anxiety leaked into the haze of pleasure. I was wet, but not stretched enough for sex. But that worry evaporated when I felt the smooth fabric of his underwear between my legs. One hand planted itself next to my head while the other clutched at my hip again. He moved my body with ease, rolling our hips together in a desperate rhythm, and I let him, my legs wrapping around his torso. There was a little thrill at being used like this. My fingers reached for the hem of his shirt, craving the feel of his skin. 

His hips stalled suddenly, shuddering as he drew my hips as close to him as physically possible, groaning my name against my mouth. Something burning hot and sticky seeped through his underwear. His sweaty forehead rested against mine, his breath ragged, little jerks wracking through his body. I chased his mouth, claiming a few pecks. He weakly returned them. “I'm sorry,” he slurred, embarrassment clear in his tone. “It's been too long and I-you're just so-” I cupped his cheeks, drawing him back from me, examining his face, his voice dying. 

He looked wrecked. His cheeks were pink and splotchy. The sweat had made his hair curl even more. His glasses were half way up his face and foggy from the humidity between us. “That was the hottest thing that's ever happened to me.” He chuckled weakly, his body sinking on top of me, balancing on his forearms, keeping himself from crushing me. I reached up, curling my fingers around the corner hinges of his glasses. “You don't really need these do you?” He shook his head and I tugged them down his nose, folding them neatly and dropping them on the coffee table.

My legs slid off from his waist to brace my feet on the floor. Now that the frenzy of each other was over, I realized just how uncomfortable I was. Beads were chaffing against my skin. There was a loose bobby pin that was stabbing into my ear. The wood under my back was cold, sending icy tingles along my spine. Some bit of that discomfort must have shown on my face because he traced a few kisses along my cheek. His hands hooked behind my knees and stood easily. I couldn't stop myself from kissing him, the corner of his lips, his cheeks, his throat. He groaned as I found an exposed edge of his collarbones. 

“I need to change,” he said breathlessly. I hummed, my mouth moving to the other side of his neck. When my teeth dragged across a sensitive spot, he jerked against me, throat rumbling. I could feel that he was already starting to harden. 

My legs tightened around his waist, mouth moving to under his ear, “you could just take it all off.” His head fell back and I latched onto the line of jaw. “I can even help,” I purred, reaching between our chests, sliding free the top few buttons of his shirt. He huffed out a breath before untangling my legs from around his waist. My dress slid down my legs as I stood before him. He pushed back his hair, chest heaving. He looked delectable. I grinned, running my finger along the waistband of his underwear, snapping the elastic just to watch him jump. 

“What a coincidence,” I hummed, “I should probably change too. But this zipper is so hard to undo.” I lift myself on my tiptoes, “could you help?” Clark shuddered. I stepped around him, finger nail scratching along the firm line of his stomach, before walking towards the open door of his bedroom. At first, he didn't follow. Then I heard a shaky sigh and the quiet padding of his feet. 

His bedroom mirrors the rest of his apartment, dark walls, low lights. His bed is shoved between two windows, the drapes closed. The sheets are a rusty red color but the pillows were a mismatched green. I noticed the door of the closet was slightly opened, the arm of a shirt peeking out. A dresser drawer scraped open behind me. I turned just in time to see Clark settling a new pair of boxers on his hips. I'm able to see his bare torso for the first time. He was wide with thin lines of definition along his stomach. I could see the bands of muscle along his ribs and shoulders. There were several veins trailing down his biceps. God he was hot. It wasn’t the most eloquent response but it was all I could think. He turned fully to me and my mouth nearly watered at the sight of him. My eyes caught on the line of fine brown hair that dipped into his underwear. I licked at my lips before focusing back on his face. His expression was an interesting combination of smug satisfaction at my hungry eyes and awkwardness at being half dressed in front of me. 

“Rude,” I pouted, “I wanted to see you naked.”

He shook his head, laughing lightly as he drew out another shirt, tossing it on the bed. “I'm sure that can be arranged. But first,” he made a spinning motion with his finger. I expected his hands to go to the zipper at my lower back, but instead the tips of fingers went into my hair. I made a contented hum as he began to pick out the pins keeping my updo intact. After about ten, he huffed, “how many of these do you have?” I shrugged. 

“I lost count after thirty.” 

“I'm going to have arthritis after this,” he mumbled. Despite his complaints, it didn't sound like he was too annoyed. In fact, he seemed to revel in the feeling of my hair as it slipped through his fingers. 

“Can that even happen?” I reached behind me and started to pull them free myself. Where he was careful, avoiding tugging on any knots, I ripped them free.

“Hm, probably not.” Once all my many hair pins were free, he dumped them in a neat pile on his dresser, along with my earrings. His knuckles ghosted down my spine, his breath ruffling my hair, and gripped the zipper of my dress. I held my breath, anticipation rippling through me. All of it left me in a big woosh when he leaned down and grazed his lips over my neck. “This dress looks so beautiful on you,” I heard the metallic scrape of the zipper being opened, air rushing against my skin. “You,” he emphasised the word with a hot kiss, “look so beautiful.” 

“T-thank you.” I felt the fabric ease open, a light tug as he found the end of the zipper track. His palms traced along my shoulders, working their way under the top of my dress, before dragging it down my arms. Goosebumps erupted across my skin at his touch. His hands traveled back up my arms before moving down my sides, fingers hooking in the bottom half of my dress, still hung on my hips. Painstakingly slow, he worked it down my waist, letting it pool on the floor. There’s a few moments of silence, only cut through with our weighted breath. 

Then there were twin thuds as he sank to his knees behind me. My heart leapt into my chest as I felt his curls brush against my inner thighs. He scattered more hot, wet kisses along my legs, his hands settling on the front of my thighs. I was squirming by the time his breath hit my soaked pussy. “F-fuck,” he rasped. I wanted to tease him about swearing, I really did, but my mind went blank as his tongue darted out, flicking at my clit. His cheeks smooshed between my legs, the gap while I stood too small for his head to fit properly.  “Been thinking about this for months.” Another few licks made my body tremble. I tried to spread my legs, give him more room, but the hands on my thighs stopped me. I wanted more contact. I needed his mouth fully on me, not this little tease. “I…” he trailed off, his full tongue swiping across me. He groaned, a sound deep in his chest, losing his train of thought. His nose bumped into me as he wedged his face closer, tongue stroking even faster now. I whined, reaching behind me to grab at his hair, curling my fist deep in the strands. “Ever since that night,” he slurred. The tip of his tongue prodded at my entrance before sliding inside. 

“Ah!” My legs trembled as he curled his tongue, prodding deep into me. A weak sob slipped from me when his index finger slipped between my legs and started to circle my clit. I let go of his hair and instead leaned forward, bracing my forearms on the mattress, shifting my hips just enough that he could reach every part of my wet pussy. His mouth slipped from me and I could hear him panting. “What night?” My brain was fuzzy, doubly so when his mouth found me again, his lips and tongue moving over my sensitive skin like he was making out with it. 

“You were wearing a tiny dress.” He sucked my clit into his mouth, tongue rolling over it, lapping at it until I cried out. “You were touching yourself and,” his voice stuttered. With the way I was bent, I could see his body behind me. His hand was gripped tight around his cock which had slipped free from his underwear. It was an angry red, white precum dripping down the tip. “Did you mean to say my name?” His fist started to move again, slow and firm. It took my brain an embarrassingly long moment to even remember what he was talking about. I had convinced myself that his potential appearance was just my horny brain running away with me. But he had shown up. 

He stayed. 

Heat surged through me at that realization. Our dry humping on the floor had already brought my sensitivity up but now an orgasm was in reach. “Yes,” I breathed as I ground back on his face. I was desperate for more and he was all too willing to give it. His tongue was moving faster than any man’s could, sliding from my clit to my entrance, swirling over both before moving to the other. “I was thinking of you. I went to a club to get fucked but none of them were you.” I was babbling now, words running together with my breathy moans. I watched his hand speed up, knuckles still white from his tight grip. “I’ve been, fuck, wanting this for so long.” I could feel the coil in my stomach tightening. Slick was starting to smear along my thighs. 

“Me too.” I buried my face in his soft sheets as I whimpered and moaned for more. In a sudden swift movement, his tongue speared inside me, fingers finding my clit. I was close, my stomach flexing, my body tense. But it was his ragged gasp of my name as he drank me down that tossed me over the edge. My back arched, hand shooting back into his hair, as I shuddered through my orgasm. I practically rode his face, my hips merciless as I chased my high. He was moaning with me, flashes of frosty air hitting my skin only amplifying the heat of his mouth. 

I finally collapsed to the bed once the tingles of overstimulation hit me. He dusted my back with sticky kisses, crawling up my body to hover over me. He peeled back the hair that had fallen over my face. Even in the low light, his face glistened. “More?” He said it like a genuine question, not a half hearted attempt at one. I grinned, feeling drunk on endorphins. 

“Fuck me Clark.” His whole body shivered and his eyes fluttered closed. His arms slipped around my body, lifting and spinning at once, so I ended up at his head board, my body in his plush pillows. He kneeled at the end of the bed, his underwear long abandoned. Now that he was fully naked, I couldn't draw my eyes away. His cock was long and heavy. It stuck straight forward instead of curling upward. I could feel him staring at me and I realized he's never seen me totally bare either. I probably looked a mess, my skin sweaty, hair frizzy. 

Clark crawled forward, scattering kisses all over my legs, up my stomach, before ending under my breasts. He reached to the side and grabbed a pillow before he lifted my hips and slid it under them. He licked his way up to my nipple, twirling around it, tugging gently with his teeth, then moving to the other one. He repeated this over and over again until I was panting and squirming under him. I felt feral with need, my body hot again, stomach fluttering. My nails dug into his back, legs wrapping tight around him. “Fuck me, please,” I whinned that last word. But he refused to move, more puffs of cold air cascading over my wet nipples. “Are you really using your ice breath?” My hips were jerking beneath him, his heavy cock sliding between my folds, the tip tapping against my clit on every roll. 

“Makes you jump,” he mumbled into my chest. His lips finally moved up my body while his hands found their way to the curve of my inner thighs, pushing my body open to him, pinning me to the bed. Teeth grazed the base of my throat and I shuddered at the feeling. His hips angled away from mine. My gasp of protest died in my throat when I felt the tip of his cock notch at my entrance. One of his strong arms landed next to my head, his face inches from mine. His eyes were wild, pupils blown wide, a fine sheen of sweat across his face. Slowly, he worked his way into me, feeding me inch by inch. I could barely keep my eyes open. The stretch was mind melting. It ached but I didn’t care. I just wanted more of him. “Too much?” His words ruffled my sweaty hair as he stalled inside me. I arched my neck up to kiss him. He tasted like me, a little bitter, and it just made me want to devour him. 

“No,” I whispered between kisses. My tongue darted out to lick at the corner of his lips as I flexed my heels into his lower back, wedging another inch into me. “More.” He nodded, nose bumping mine, as he pushed the last of his cock deep inside me. “Fuck, oh fuck.” I broke away from him, my breath shuddering in my chest, nails tearing into his back. He was heavy lidded, gaze unfocused. He drew back, sliding out of me with a wet squelch, just the tip remaining, before thrusting back in. It wasn’t rough by any means but it lit all my nerve endings on fire. I tightened around him and he groaned my name, voice shredded and weak. 

He set a slow but deep pace, hips knocking against mine with every plunge. I had never understood the idea of someone ‘rearranging your guts’ before. It seemed ridiculous and uncomfortable. But that was the only way I could describe what he was doing to me. Every push, every thrust felt like he was working his way into my stomach. After the first few movements of his, that soreness went away. I almost missed it. At least that little pinch of pain kept me from being lost to waves of pleasure. But now I was drowning in it. All I could seem to do was lay there, wetness dripping onto the pillow under me, and moan incoherent words. He wasn’t doing much better. His hand was trembling where he held me. He was mumbling about how good I felt. 

His careful control was slipping. He pushed into me with a little more strength than usual. A gasp was punched out of me and my back arched. My eyes flicked open to his concerned face. “I’m s-sorry,” he panted. His hips stilled and I nearly sobbed in frustration. My horny brain was tired of his worry. I wanted him to rail me and leave me a quivering mess. 

“Keep going Clark,” I whined, my hands going down to his ass, attempting to restart his movements myself. His head dropped to my shoulder with a pained noise. 

“Say it again,” he gritted out. It took me a moment to realize what he was asking for. 

“Clark.” 

“Again.” 

“Clark,” I whimpered, “please fuck me harder.” He groaned, a deep and primal sound, before doing just that. Before he was stretching me, testing my limits. Now? Now he was fucking me like a man possessed. His hips bounced off mine and I knew I would probably have bruises in the morning. I clung tight to him, body jerking with every thrust, broken moans of his name escaping me. They only seemed to spur him on to go harder. I could feel him twitch inside me every time I whimpered for him. “Feel so good. Clark, I-” my voice cuts off on a squeak as a finger finds my clit. The low simmer of heat in my body explodes into an inferno. “Fuck! Clark!” I hoped he had thick walls. 

“Not gonna last much longer,” he groaned. I mumbled a faint okay as I shuddered around him. At this rate, he was going to last longer than I would. He angled his hips, adjusting himself on his knees, and I sobbed as he found the sensitive area along my walls. My body froze, head thrown back. His finger on my clit slipped between my folds, collecting up my wetness, before going at my clit again. 

“Clark I’m-Clark-I-fuck!” I wailed, my throat aching, as I came. Stars bursted behind my eyes as I felt pure pleasure pour through my entire body. My hands blindly grabbed at his hair, gripping it tight as I trembled and shook, tears bubbling from the corner of my eyes. As if from the end of a long hallway, I hear him whimpering my name, hips thrusting roughly once, twice, before stopping all together. I felt hot sticky cum flooding into me. There was so much of it. It seeped from me and onto the pillow. As if he couldn't stop himself, his hips fucked back into me, push his cum deeper into me, before slowing to a stop again.

Our sweaty skin stuck together as we panted. Whenever either of us had enough air to spare, we would give each other quick kisses. I let out an oof when his body sunk into mine. He nuzzled his face into my neck. “Am I too heavy?” I shook my head. My fingers trailed over his back, scratching gently until he hummed in satisfaction. He was softening inside me, rivers of his release trickling out of me. He moved, as if to get up, but I clung to him. 

“No, stay.” My voice was heavy with sleep. 

“But,” I shook my head, kissing his temple. 

“You feel too good.” That seemed to settle him. We laid in comfortable silence for what felt like hours. Our breaths synced together, slow and steady. My eyes were drifting shut. “I'm quitting my job.” I'm not sure what prompted me to say it. But since we were in the beginning stages of a relationship, it seemed only fitting to start having life conversations. He had also seen first hand Lex's behavior at the party so I knew he would understand.

“That's a good idea,” he sounded close to sleep himself. “That guy is an asshole.” A laugh burst from my chest, loud and sharp in the quiet room. 

“Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?” He lifted his head and smirked. 

“No, but I'll kiss you.” I raised my eyebrow, still giggling. 

“Ooh, very smooth.” He pecked at my mouth before settling his chin on the center of my chest, blinking up at me. I sighed. “I don't have another job lined up but I can't handle it anymore.” 

“You know,” he said, “my boss at the Planet needs an assistant. He probably won't pay as much. We aren't really swimming in money as reporters. But,” he traced my cheekbone with the tip of his finger, “I could mention you to him.” It was such a sweet gesture and I felt my heart bloom with happiness. But I bit my lip. 

“Do you think that's a good idea? Us working together?” He shrugged. 

“Even if things don't work out between us, I would still want you to work somewhere better. No one deserves the crap he says to you.” Tears sprang to my eyes and I hastily wiped them away. 

“Thank you.” I ran my fingers through his hair, feeling the thin layer of sweat on his scalp. “How fast is your recovery time?” He sighed, smiling, as he caught my wrist, kissing at my pulse. 

“Why?”

“We should probably shower and there's so much cum in me,” he blushed, attempting to hide his face in my chest. “You'll have to use your fingers to get it all out…and then get the second round out too.” He groaned. 

“You're going to give me a heart attack.” 

“Can that even happen?” He captured my mouth in a hungry kiss. His hands wrapped around my body as he clambered from the bed. 

“Let's find out.”

“A car will pick you up at seven sharp,” Lex said, dragging me back to reality. I hastily closed the Daily Planet tab I had opened. Superman had saved Metropolis again. The picture of him, children hanging off his arms and laughing with delight, had stirred something inside me. Something far too emotional. I was picturing us together, maybe even married, like a love sick teenager. Shame hit me all over again and I could feel heat drifting up my cheeks. “Did you hear me?” Lex's voice was a whip crack in the quiet office. 

“Yes Mr. Luthor, seven sharp.” He nodded once before stalking into the elevator. He didn’t even make eye contact with me before the doors slid shut. I sighed before shifting my chair so I could watch fat snowflakes drift by the window across from me. Soft classical music hummed from hidden speakers. It felt peaceful and calm. Two emotions that were never found in this office. 

I glanced at my computer and huffed. It was just after four thirty. I needed to go home and get ready. With my wool coat on and a scarf wrapped around my ears in a makeshift hood, I felt ready enough to brave the frigid cold. The elevator flew down the building before stopping in the lobby. Walking outside made my breath catch, shivers instantly wracking my body. It was cold. The kind of cold that instantly freezes the mucus in your nose and makes it itch. I huddled deeper into my layers before rushing to the bus stop. 

Almost a whole hour had passed before I made it home. Cabbage meowed happily as I shuffled inside, stomping off any snow that had collected on my shoes, before I dropped my coat and scarf on the couch. She instantly darted onto the discarded clothing, spinning twice, before settling on them, soaking up the warmth. I rolled my eyes before squatting down to pet her. “I think you only seem happy that I'm home because you want my body heat.” She trilled, not even trying to deny it. “Wish me luck. It's going to be a long night.”

Lex Luthor was hardly known for his philanthropy but he hosted one charity gala every year. It was held at the Metropolis Art Museum and benefited Metropolis food banks. How much money made into these vital businesses' hands was up for debate. Anyone who was anyone would be trying to get an invitation. Other tech company CEOs, actors, influencers, hell, even motivational speakers. As Lex's assistant, I had to attend. My job was to make sure I take any business cards handed to him, jot down any potential meetings, and generally be as nondescript as possible. These high society events were always exhausting. 

I went to my closet, digging through some of the moving boxes still tucked away, and found my usual gala dress. It was plain black, not tight enough to attract attention, but fitted enough to keep it from looking boxy. I laid it on my bed before jumping into the shower. The hot water ran out before I had even finished washing my body. My teeth were chattering by the time I clambered out of the shower, wrapping a towel tightly around my shoulders. 

That's when I heard it. 

The sound any cat owner would recognize even in the deepest sleep. 

The wet gag of a cat right before it threw up. 

I rushed from the bathroom and froze in absolute horror. Cabbage, her little body heaving, was on my dress. “Wait no,” I gasped. But to no avail. The hairball shot across my dress with a disgusting wet slap. It was almost impressive the scale of destruction her single hairball had caused. The entire dress was covered in saliva. “Cabbage,” I whined, shooing her off the bed. She trotted away, tail flicking. I desperately tried to wipe away all the spit but gave up once the paper towel began to fray, little fragments clinging to the rough material. There was no way I could wear this. The marks may not be visible but the wetness remained and I couldn't imagine being stuck in it for hours. The thought alone made me shudder. 

Dejected, I started to rifle through my closet. Dress after dress was flung onto the floor in my desperate search for a replacement. Every single one was wrong. Some were too short for the freezing temperature, some too sexy for a charity event. There was even one that was an eye watering neon green and had barely fit me when I bought it five years ago. As I reached deeper, my fingers brushed against rough canvas. I peeked inside. In a dark shadow I saw it. The dress I bought on a wild, over confident, impulse. “Damn it.” 

I finished my makeup, something neutral but alluring, and my hair, an artfully messy updo, before confronting the dress. I held my breath as I unzipped it as if some wild animal hid inside. But all that worry evaporated when I saw the dress. It looked just as beautiful as the day I bought it. It was a dark emerald green, covered completely in delicate beading, each of them glimmering even under my harsh apartment lighting. It was long, a train pooling out onto my floor. The neckline was high and square. I shook it off its hanger, the fabric silky against my fingers. When I flopped it down on the bed, I was reminded just why it had been relegated to the back of my closet, where I would never be tempted to wear it out. 

There was no back at all. It cut perfectly at the base of my spine. It gave enough coverage that bending over wasn't a scary prospect but I couldn’t wear any underwear. I didn't want to show this much skin, let alone at a gala where I was trying to not be noticed. But this was the only formal dress I had. 

The buzzer to my apartment rang out just as I slipped on my heels. I cursed the dress as I shuffled to the door, my legs unable to take long strides like usual. “I'll be right down,” I called into the intercom. I grabbed my coat, far too casual and plain for this dress, and swung it on. “Don't puke on anything else.” I glared at Cabbage. She just rolled away from me, her fluffy stomach pressed against the radiator. I grabbed my clutch, filled only with the essentials, before taking the elevator down to the lobby.  

The driver tipped his hat toward me. There was a fine dusting of snow on the shoulders of his jacket. A luxury SUV was quietly idling in front of my building, plumes of exhaust drifting up in the air, the gentle hum of bass rumbling through it. “Good evening ma’am,” he hummed, holding out his arm to help me down the few steps at my apartment’s entrance. I took it gratefully, scooping up the train of my dress in the other hand, and half hopped down the steps. Once I made it to the car without falling, the driver opened the door, offering his hand again to help me inside. I blinked in confusion at the man already inside. 

“Mr. Luthor,” I said, voice tilting up so it was almost a question. He rolled his head to look at me, the blue-white glow of his phone dancing over his face. I could feel, more than actually see, his eyes rake over my body. I self consciously crossed my jacket across my body, realizing, a little belatedly, that my dress offered little coverage for my nipples as the cold hit them. He was wearing his usual attire, expensive tailored suit with loafers that had never seen more than a block of walking. But he had added just a bit of festive cheer with a red scarf draped around his neck. 

“You're letting the cold air in.” With that, he went back to his phone. The driver helped me into the car before shutting the door and rushing around to get behind the wheel. The car ride was quiet, only interrupted by the occasional honk or shout from the side walk. I kept my gaze out the window, watching the smear of bright Christmas lights as we drove past, body pressed against the door. Beside me, Lex's phone buzzed nonstop, always followed quickly by the soft tapping of his thumbs on the screen. Ten minutes passed like this before he finally clicked his phone off. “That’s a nice dress.” It was unlike him to say anything nice, let alone compliment. I shot him a suspicious look over my shoulder. His head was propped on his fist, elbow on the door edge, his knees tilted toward me. “I thought you were going to wear something off the rack at Macy's and embarrass me.” There we go. I scowled. 

“And we can’t have that, now can we?” I could have sworn the whisper of a smile flitted across his lips before he shifted away from me again. 

We arrived at the venue after another twenty minutes of silence. The front steps were covered under a black and green Luthorcorp branded tent. Underneath that was a long black carpet. The ultra wealthy streamed up the steps, posing for photographers or taking reporter questions, wide but fake smiles stuck on their faces. Our car lined up behind a bright red Porsche, inching closer and closer to the mob of people outside the museum. It wasn’t my first carpet walk, but I was typically able to duck behind someone to avoid being the subject of any picture. I snuggled deeper into my coat, planning to keep it on the entire walk and hover just behind Lex. As we stalled at the front of the line, our driver leaping from the front seat to open Lex’s door, he spoke. “I hope you aren’t planning on keeping that thing on.” I clutched my jacket closer. 

“It’s cold.” He scoffed. 

“There’s heaters. Anyways, it looks atrocious with your dress. Leave it here. You’ll get it back at the end of the night.” Just as I was about to object again, the door opened. Discordant shouts of names and directions for poses mingled together into a wall of sound that made me cringe. Lex pinned me with a stern look which told me he wasn’t requesting me, he was telling me. Reluctantly, I shook out of my nice, toasty jacket. The cold air filling the car felt like pure ice on my bare back and goosebumps erupted across my whole body. He smiled, smug and victorious, and clambered out of the car. At the host’s appearance, the shouts became even louder. He gave jovial waves, like he was royalty, calling out hellos to the reporters nearest him. I awkwardly shuffled across the back seat before getting out and self consciously brushed down my dress. All the reporters and photographers shifted to me at once, like sharks who smelled blood in the water. Then a flurry of questions broke out and cameras began flashing. I tried to linger as far away from Lex as I could but that didn’t stop the reporters. 

“Who’s the woman!?” 

“Has someone finally gotten you to settle down!?”

“What about Heather Montgomery? Or Stacia Hardwick?” 

With every question regarding our ‘relationship’, he would just chuckle and shoot me a coy look. It was only drawing more speculation and focus onto me. People started to shout at me, asking me to pose with my man. I wanted to sink into myself. Or hit Lex. Maybe both. I tried to keep my face down, watching my steps with far too much interest, as we slowly worked our way up the grand staircase. I could feel a blush crawling up my cheeks and spreading down my exposed back. The hair along my neck was constantly on end from all the eyes on me. This was hell. 

We were only ten steps away from the entrance when Lex stopped again. I stared longingly at the glass doors, foot tapping impatiently, before I gave up on waiting for him. With quick strides, I was next to him. I kept my body carefully angled away from him so that we didn’t seem affectionate. “I’m going inside.” I didn’t bother giving him a reason and he didn’t bother trying to argue with me. He just smiled and nodded. It sent the gossip columnist he was talking to into a giggle fit, cooing over how adorable we were. I bit my lip to stop myself from snapping at her before stomping away. I had nearly made it inside when a question caught my attention. 

“Are you aware of how much of this money is actually donated to food banks?” I glanced over my shoulder and spotted the speaker instantly. Lois Lane, her nose red from the cold, with a sleek pantsuit on, was pressed as close to the velvet rope as security would allow her. She seemed to have attracted her own bouncer, a man with a tense expression, body flexed like she was going to rush onto the steps at any moment. She held out a recorder when she noticed me looking at her. “Ma’am! Lex Luthor has amassed a reported one hundred billion net worth, what do you have to say about his exploitation of impoverished nations for his wealth?”  

I didn't want to ignore her. I loved reading her reports in the Daily Planet. There was a little feeling of vindication when she published a piece on Lex, ripping into him with all the care of a lioness with her prey. But I couldn't speak out against my own boss even if I agreed with her sentiments. So I gave her a meek nod of acknowledgement before slipping inside. 

The air was so balmy against my chilled skin it nearly burned. I took a moment to be dazzled by the entrance. Massive Christmas trees dominated the main lobby. They were easily twenty feet tall and just as wide, the branches thick enough you could barely see through the pines. Beautiful ornaments and tinsel dangled from the ends of them. The room's lighting was kept low and warm so the bright colors of the tree lights popped. It was stunning. 

I followed the flow of people up the two curving staircases to get to the main party area. The atrium was also covered in an array of Christmas trees, some at shoulder height, others soaring toward the ceiling. Ice sculptures of various festive shapes, like wrapped presents or candy canes, were dotted around the area. There were small clusters of tables, some with chairs, while others were intended to be leaned against. Several bars were tucked into corners, each one with several bartenders, the lines long despite the abundance. A string quartet played gentle classical music and had attracted a handful of dancing couples in front of them. 

A hand brushed my lower back unexpectedly. I spun away, nearly sending a congresswoman flying, and found a smug Lex looking down at me. The bit of skin he touched began to itch and burn like some fast acting infection. “I told you it was a nice dress. Now, actually do your job.” 

Two hours dragged by, taking my sanity with it. I had never seen Lex in his ‘personable’ mode and it was something I hoped I would never see again. He complimented everyone, his voice dripping in thinly veiled contempt, before snaring them in a business proposal. In a way, I reluctantly respected his ability to lure anyone, even other CEOs who should know better, into true deals with the devil. I watched him acquire a small tech startup that had generated tons of buzz with no more than a smile and a carefully worded contract. A contract that was already on his phone, just awaiting this man's signature. 

Lex treated me as nothing more than a roving table. He handed me business cards, plates from appetizers, and all of his drinks. There had been one moment where I thought about dumping the fifth half drunk vodka soda he handed to me down his shirt, but had thought better of it. While every second that passed by made me hate him just a little more, I still stuck close to him. I could feel people looking at me, their gazes a physical touch along my spine. A few of the men who were talking to Lex had also had a hungry glint in their eyes that made me want to run. But, Lex would always drag their attention away from me, and people had a healthy weariness of Lex that kept them far unless he approached them first. 

Lex has been going on and on about stocks with a very unimpressed looking model when a security guard appeared next to us. “Excuse me Mr. Luthor, but there's a bit of a situation.” Lex, clearly failing to keep this model's interest, huffed in annoyance. With him distracted, she slipped away. Lucky girl. 

“What is it?” Lex snapped. 

“There are dozens of reporters in the lobby. They all insist they should be let inside.” Lex waved his hands dismissively. 

“Absolutely not! We don't need those leeches around.” I chewed my lip. Maybe she's still here? That was a gamble I was willing to take. 

“I don't think that's a bad idea.” Lex pinned me with a glare so vicious it would have made anyone not immune to his shitty moods breakdown. “Right now, it looks like this is just a party for rich people to maybe give a couple hundred for charity.” His eyes narrowed more. “But, if we let some reporters up, maybe they could get some good statements, really show that everyone is here for a good cause.”

He seemed to mull this over, spinning the ice in his cups around moodily, before downing the last of his old fashioned. “Fine. But,” he pointed a finger at me with all the grave seriousness as if it was a gun, “the second those bastards make people uncomfortable, they are out of here. Also, only two. I don't need a flock.” 

“Understood.” I walked away, keeping close to the decorated trees to avoid bumping into any of the tipsy guests. The tension in my body, my jaw tight and back painfully straight, slowly melted away the farther I got from Lex. Idly, I wondered if I could go back to Gotham. This city wasn't the grand new adventure that I expected it to be. I was lonely and anxious all the time. I didn't even have Superman's face occasionally outside my window to make me feel better. As I rounded the corner of the staircase, I sighed. There was indeed a mob of reporters and photographers with a line of stern looking security guards keeping them back. My eyes did a quick sweep, seeking out that long black hair. I couldn't hide my grin when I saw Lois Lane, her angry face framed perfectly by two burly shoulders, giving them an impassioned explanation of her rights as the press. I hustled down the steps, the clicks of my heels completely swallowed up by the loud party behind me.

“Miss Lane, I’m glad to see that you’re still here.” She looked me up and down, suspicion written all over her pretty face. “I’m Mr. Luthor’s assistant and he has given me permission to allow two reporters upstairs.” 

“Assistant, huh?” Her eyes narrowed. “Why me? I thought he would have blacklisted me.” I shrugged, a little grin tugging at the corners of my lips. 

“He trusts my judgement.” I also doubted he knew she was here otherwise he absolutely would have told me to never even speak to her. An unfortunate oversight on his part. “I also love your articles. You have a certain way of writing that’s tough but fair.” Tough was an understatement. She crossed her arms over her chest but I could tell I was chipping away at her defenses. 

“I have a photographer,” she pointed over her shoulder at thin air, “that gonna be a problem?” At the confused look on my face, she turned and huffed. “Fucking Smallville,” she mumbled,  “always disappearing.” She looked at me apologetically before whipping out her phone. Just as she pulled up her texts, the front door of the museum opened, freezing air wafting inside, bringing snowflakes with it. A man awkwardly shuffled inside, his curly hair messy, pulled low across his forehead, in a rumpled suit a few sizes too big on his already large frame. “Where did you go?” Lois called across the room. The man looked up. The glasses he wore completely covered his eyebrows with their thick frames. He hunched closer on himself, shoulders rolling forward as if he was trying to seem as small as possible. He wove between other clamoring reporters, stumbling to the side as a few people almost collided with him, murmuring apologies. He kept anxiously tugging at the camera strap around his neck. 

When he finally stood next to Lois, he seemed to dip even lower, knees jutting forward as he bent them. The combination of my heels and his crouched stance meant we were nearly at eye level. I couldn’t stop looking at him. His crystal blue eyes bounced everywhere but me like he was desperate to avoid my gaze. However, there was something there that tickled the back of my brain. Something that made his handsome face seem familiar. The red flush of his cheeks, probably from being outside in the cold, grew until it covered his whole face, dipping under the collar of his shirt. I squinted at him. I had to know him for such a vicious blush to cover his skin. He peeked up at me and my heart stuttered. He just seemed so flustered. It made my own skin grow hot. It was a rare sight to have a man be so hot and bothered by my mere presence. A man I didn’t know. “This is Clark.” I blinked, finally looking away from the man before me, only to find Lois engrossed in her phone. “Damn, I guess even Superman doesn’t take the holidays off.” I snuck a glance at her phone, seeing the report about Superman saving cars from a collapsed bridge. Clark ran his fingers through his hair, tugging it down his face. Lois nudged his arm with enough force that his glasses hitched to the side of his nose. 

There was a brief flicker of recognition. I bit my lip, trying to hang onto that feeling, to bring a name back to the surface, before it finally slipped away as he reset his glasses. I shook my head, my earrings faintly jangling. Perhaps I had just passed by him on the street one day and his looks had left enough of an impression. That had to be it. 

“If you’ll follow me.” I said, before turning up the steps. I could hear Lois whispering to Clark, peppering him with questions about where he had been, as they trailed behind me. I could feel his gaze on me all the way to the middle landing. I wasn't sure how I so instinctively knew it was him. Perhaps there was some heaviness to it that all the other stares I had been subjected to didn't. The sensation wasn't unwelcomed either. It felt…warm. Maybe even soothing. 

Strange. 

I stopped on the landing and held out my hands to stall Lois and Clark as well. Under the soft glow of so many Christmas lights, Clark looked almost angelic. The frizz from his curls caught the lights, a halo around his face. Shadows carved out his cheekbones and settled into the faint line of a dimple. Hadn't I thought this about someone else before? Clark, noticing my gaze, shifted uncomfortably, trying to hide his face again. Clearly I was looking at him too much. 

“I should warn you, you will be on a short leash.” Lois scoffed, throwing her hands up in exasperation. She had somehow ended up with Clark’s camera slung around her neck. 

“You bring this up now? What? You expect me to write a fluff piece about these rich assholes ruining the world?” I put my hands on my hips, mouth in a firm line. Her chin jutted out, a challenge written all over her face. Clark shrunk into himself even more. 

“I'm asking you to show a little tact. If you go too hard, you'll get kicked out.” And I would be fired in two seconds flat, but I didn't add that. “Ask them what you want but don't give them any reason to complain. Okay?” Lois's lips rolled between her teeth before she gave a single nod. 

Once our group made it upstairs, the party had already taken a turn. Men had lost their suit jackets and had rolled their sleeves up in the hot atrium. Several women had also tossed their designer shoes onto tables, dancing in front of the few musicians in the corner. “Clark.” He jumped at the sound of his name. “Don’t take any embarrassing pictures.” 

“O-okay ma'am,” he stuttered. His voice was deep, a little gravel along the edges, like when someone did an exaggerated low tone. Nevertheless, goosebumps prickled along my arms. Lois was already gone, her recorder out, and found the first of her many targets that night. Clark went to follow her but I caught his wrist. The mere touch of his skin made my body shudder. He stilled instantly and his eyes dropped to the floor. 

“Do I know you?” Clark's head shot up, shock clear across his face. His mouth fell open, little half formed words tumbling out, before a furious shout of my name distracted both of us. Lex was storming closer, face red in anger, another glass clutched in his shaking fist. I felt, more than I saw, Clark shift closer to me, like he was ready to dive between Lex and I. 

“What is she doing here?” Lex hissed, the words slurred, pointing at Lois who had just cornered an actor with a very sketchy history. His face was flushed from all the alcohol he had been drinking. I plastered on a sweet smile. 

“I didn't realize you had rules around this. I thought the most popular reporter from the biggest newspaper in Metropolis would be a great person to cover all the wonderful work being done here. My many apologies.” Lex's face had grown purple as his rage simmered. “Now, if you'll excuse us,” I said as I slid my arm around Clark's, temporarily stunned by the firm bulge of muscles there, “we were going to dance.”

“I'm not paying you to dance!” I nudged Clark's hip with my own. He picked up on the hint and started to walk away from Lex, who looked near combustion. 

“Consider it my break then!” I led Clark away, his arm stiff in my grip. Lex’s angry stare was like a white hot brand against my skin. I grimaced. He would chew me out on Monday, maybe even fire me. But that didn’t sound like the worst thing in the world right now. As we neared the dance floor, now full of couples spinning aimlessly, I felt that glare move off my back. “I’m sorry for using you,” I mumbled. 

“It’s no problem,” he said gently, like he was used to helping random people out of awkward situations. 

“We don’t actually have to dance,” I told him, my hand dropping from his arm, and we both came to stop, his body in front of mine. In the walk here, he seemed to have grown a few inches, and a quick glance down told me he wasn’t hunching into himself like before. This angle felt more right somehow, as if I was used to seeing him tower over me. The shine from thousands of warm lights caught in his blue eyes and made them sparkle, turning them into the sky at twilight, the moment when the stars began to wink into existence. He gave me a faint smile, the shadows collecting on twin dimples in his cheeks. My breath caught and I inched closer without thought. Our chests brushed against each other as we breathed. Despite the scent of fresh cut pine hanging heavy in the air, I could pick out the smell of clean laundry that drifted from his button up. His fingers slid down my bare arm, leaving tingling trails behind, before picking my hand up and holding it delicately in his own. 

“What if I want to?” My stomach swooped. There was tenderness to his expression that I had only ever seen previously in boyfriends. I swallowed, trying to stop my cheeks from burning, but I knew I was failing. I stepped closer, our bodies pressed together completely now, and looked up at him through my eyelashes. I could feel his heart racing against mine. The party was drifting away from us, morphing into background noise and slow flashes of color. All I could focus on was him. 

“I don’t know how to dance,” I admitted with a self deprecating smile. He squeezed my hand. 

“I know how.” At my raised eyebrows, he gave me a tiny smirk. “My ma taught me. She thought it would come in handy some day.” 

“I guess it’s my lucky day then,” I whispered. We make our way through the crowd, him clumsily dodging the occasional dancer’s leg or elbow, before planting in the center of the group. He lifted my hand, his fingers curled around my own, before his other palm landed lightly on my hip. My free hand laid on top of his shoulder and I nearly squeezed the firm cord of muscle there. 

“Is that okay?” I reached to my side and adjusted his hand so it was flat against my bare back. His skin feels obscene against mine. It was a little rough, a few callouses lined the ridge of his palm, but it was so warm, on just the right side of being heavy, like a weighted blanket. 

“Isn’t this where you’re supposed to hold me?” He swallowed and I was close enough to him to audibly hear it over all the noise. His fingers briefly flexed, the pads digging into my skin, before he relaxed. The adorable blush was back on his face and a tiny sense of pride lit in my chest. He nodded once, curls bouncing. “Then yes, it’s okay.” He nodded again, as if he was trying to collect his thoughts, before he started to move us in a slow square. I was hyper aware of every point of contact we had, which was many. Our thighs would brush on every step. I could feel each flex of his shoulder as I held it. He kept lightly drumming his fingers against the back of my hand. Staring at him the entire time felt too intimate, so instead I examined his tie. The knot was a bit sloppy, like he had done it in a rush, the fabric covered in little green Christmas trees. 

I knew I was supposed to take his lead. I really did try. But I felt so uncoordinated on my feet, too distracted by the man holding me, that I kept moving wrong and his foot would step on mine. We would both giggle out little apologies as we tried to adjust to one another. After a particularly nasty collision, he huffed, but there was no annoyance in the sound. “Okay, this isn’t working.” My heart deflated at that. I liked him holding me. I didn’t want him to stop. They were my toes being crushed so I had the final say if I wanted to end our tension filled dance. I would sacrifice all of them just to have him keep spinning me. I had just opened my mouth to protest, when was I’m lifted from the ground, his arm a rigid band across my back. A squeak of surprise escaped my lips just as he placed me back down, this time balanced on his feet. “There,” he said, grinning at me, our eyes level now, “that’s better.” His breath, a mixture of coffee and icy mint, fanned across my face.

I could feel every line, divot, and bulge of his torso as it pressed against mine. In this new position, my breasts were pushed high against his chest. But he kept his focus on me, eyes wide, an earnest smile on his face. I wanted to kiss him. I was suddenly desperate to tear his shirt off, explore his body with my hands, my tongue. My breath came out in a tiny ragged sigh. He blinked slowly, long eyelashes fluttering. “Better?” he rasped. I just nodded in response. I couldn’t trust my voice. 

The string players began a new song, something upbeat and festive. But Clark and I continued our slow waltz. That quiet siren of familiarity was ringing again. But surely I would have remembered his blue eyes and burly arms. Right? He wasn't hiding from me anymore. No more anxious hair pulling or fidgeting. He examined me unabashedly now and I did the same. Just as I opened my mouth to ask him if he used to work in Gotham, a man rammed into us. 

The impact made Clark lose his balance, sending us stumbling to the side for a few steps, before he righted himself. The man, eyes hazy from too much booze, mumbled a half hearted apology before sending his dance partner twirling. “Dang, what a jerk.” He said the words without a hint of malice. I giggled. 

“Damn, I don't hear many adults say dang.” Clark shrugged. 

“Ma told me never to swear-” 

A light went off in my head. A puzzle piece slid into its correct place. 

“Because it gives people a bad impression.” Clark stopped our dance once again. I looked down at him, some sort of veil lifted from my eyes. I reached out, fingertips trembling, and hesitantly pushed back the curls covering his forehead, leaving one dangling. My thumb nudged his thick glasses down to the tip of his nose. “Superman?” The word was barely audible, especially in such a loud room. He blinked up at me once. Then his face broke into a grin that was warm and bright enough to put the sun to shame. 

“How's Cabbage? She stopped running up trees?” Now I really wanted to kiss him. Before I could say anything, my brain was too sluggish from this revelation, Lois appeared next to us. Clark, Superman, hastily readjusted his hair while I slid his glasses back up his nose. 

“Smallville! I've been trying to get your attention for the past five minutes.” She glanced at our bodies, examining the intimate way he held me, before her gaze flicked up to me. “Your boss wants you too.” She huffed the words. All at once, the peaceful bubble Clark and I had made for ourselves, popped. The noise cranked higher. The smell of fading perfume mixing with sweat and sticky alcohol flooded back in. Even the lights seemed to dim, making our surroundings lose all its dreamy glow. 

I didn't want to let go of him. But as the world came back to us, I immediately felt the burn of Lex looking at me. I found him next to a bar, his face a furious pout, another drink in his hand. “Hey,” Clark hummed, tucking a stray curl behind my ear. My attention dropped to him and he smiled reassuringly. “We'll talk later, okay?” My heart beat faster and Lois's foot seemed to match it as she impatiently waited. Some part of me said he would evaporate again, simply remain a fantasy I played with at night. But this could mean…something. Not a romantic relationship, surely, but a relationship nonetheless. 

I reluctantly slid from Clark's grasp. It felt strange to be on solid ground again. How long had I been on his feet? His hand remained firm around mine and I was desperate to keep even this little amount of contact. “I know how to reach you.” His eyes lit up in delight. “Thank you for the dance, Clark.” The name felt a little clunky now that I knew who he really was. 

Our hands slowly drifted apart as I walked away but I could still feel the phantom weight, the heat, of him on my body as I walked toward Lex. I slid next to him at the bar, asking the bartender for water, taking slow sips of it. Annoyance radiated from the man next to me like toxic fumes. “Did you have fun?” Lex sneered. I gulped down a large amount of water, stalling for a moment, before turning to look at him. Hatred simmered in his blue eyes, so devoid of any human kindness. 

I turned back to the bartender and ordered my favorite cocktail. While I supposed I was still on the clock for tonight, I didn't care. Lex glowered as I plucked the cherry from my glass, yanking it from the stem with my teeth. I finished my drink on one big swing. “I did have fun Lex.” He blinked at my sudden use of his first name. 

But at that moment, I came to a conclusion. 

I was quitting on Monday.

In my defense, I made it half way up the tree before Superman showed up. “I need to stop finding you like this.” I yelped and clung tighter to the skinny trunk. Above me, I heard nails scraping against bark, then the leaves rustling. She had fallen from the tree. 

“Cab-” I stuck my arm out, grabbing blindly at the air like I could catch her. There was a gust of wind around me. “-bage,” my voice died when Superman reappeared next to me, Cabbage tucked safely in his big arms. She was purring contentedly, eyes closed, making biscuits on his chest. He smiled at me before reaching his hand out. “I could have gotten her down,” I mumbled. That was a lie. I had no plan on how to get back down once I had her. She wasn't the biggest fan of being held, unless it was by Superman, which I couldn't fault her for. 

“I know you could have.” He said the words with such conviction, such unwavering faith, that it made me feel almost self conscious. I shimmied back down the tree, wincing as I felt the bark being caught on my sweatpants and jacket. He opened his mouth but thought better of offering his help when I shot him a determined look. “How has your head been healing?” 

“Okay I guess,” I said when my feet landed back on solid ground. His boots crunched softly on the fallen leaves that had gathered beneath the tree. I watched him scratch under Cabbage's chin for a moment, something warm unfurling in my chest, before I turned away and walked back to my building's door, him trailing behind. “I've been feeling very tired but that has less to do with the concussion and more to do with my boss.” Superman nodded in agreement and I scoffed lightly. “You have a day job?” 

“Being a superhero doesn't pay Metropolis rent…or really anything.” I leaned against the door, crossing my arms, and took in his face in the dim orange light. It casted him in an angelic glow, the shadows of his cheekbones softened, blue eyes dulled to something darker. 

“What could you possibly do? How can you hide all of this,” I gestured at his bulky frame, “from regular people like me?” He grinned with just an edge of smugness. 

“I have my ways.” 

“Uh-huh.” I shook my head, hiding my smile by looking at my feet. A comfortable silence fell between us. It was only broken by the occasional purring meow or car driving past. “Um,” I started awkwardly. “Do you wanna, uh, come upstairs?” He made a little noise of surprise and I whipped my head back up. Rejection was written all over his face. “Wait, sorry, that came out wrong. She,” I pointed to the happy cat in the crook of his arm, “really doesn't like being held. I don't want her running off again.” His eyes lit up as he stared down at Cabbage.

“So she likes me?” As if in confirmation, she gently pawed at his face, eyes barely opened. I could see him melt and he leaned closer to her. She licked once at his nose. That feeling was back in my chest. It felt like when I had first seen Cabbage in the shelter. She had been scruffy and so scared but she reached out to me through the bars of her cage. I knew then that I needed her with me, that I had to take care of her. It was like a ball of love had lodged itself under my breast bone. Watching this big man, with his easy smiles and soft voice, made that affection bloom again. 

I couldn't bring myself to speak, worried that I might blurt out something deeply embarrassing, so I dug around in my jacket pocket for my keys. Just as I was about to usher him inside, his head tilted. “I'm sorry,” he said, genuine regret coating his words, “there's a bank robbery.” 

“Oh.” He held out Cabbage, who looked none too pleased to be removed from his warm chest, and I took her. She instantly began squirming. I wrangled her in the best position I could. When I looked up, he was gone. “Good luck,” I called out, hoping my words reached him, wherever he may be. 

*****

The following weeks were as I expected working for a man like Lex Luthor. Early mornings to retrieve Lex's coffee, endless phone calls, countless paper cuts from printing off meeting briefs. Lex was, what could charitably called, difficult. There was an edge of cruelness to most of his actions.  Maybe he wanted me to quit or have a breakdown in front of him. But I had a recommendation letter from Bruce Wayne for a reason. I was a good secretary and him glaring daggers at me and making me get him reservations at the most exclusive restaurants wasn't going to break me. 

Well, in the office at least. At home, in the peace and quiet of my apartment, I could rant and rave at Cabbage. “Can you believe he asked me to get Nobu reservations at seven.” I chopped furiously at a poor red pepper, reducing it to mushy diced pieces. Cabbage sat at my feet, waiting for something to drop for her to scarf down. “He asked me this at six thirty!” With a frustrated grunt, I dumped the peppers into my hot pan, the oil sizzling on contact. “What a fucking brat.” The cutting board and knife cluttered into the sink. “And get this,” I turned to Cabbage for dramatic effect, “he's stringing along two supermodels!” My cat was unimpressed and began licking her paws. “I've been having to juggle both of their calls. They are both convinced he's going to pop the question soon.” 

My phone rattled on the counter and I groaned when I saw the name on the screen. Taking two deep breaths, I answered the call. “Good evening Mr. Luthor,” I said, my voice smooth, all frustration wiped from it. From his end of the line, I could hear heavy music and women's laughter. A club maybe? 

“What do you know about Superman?” I blinked at the odd topic. Lex had spoken about the hero a handful of times, but never directly to me, I only ever heard it through his office door. What he had said was, as always, vicious. Lex thought Superman was a plague, something to be feared and hated, a symbol of humanity falling from grace. 

But I had met Superman. He had been kind and patient. I found myself, when I was particularly lonely, thinking about his face. The strong line of his jaw. That one curl that laid so perfectly on his face. Those hands that had held me so securely. His body, strong but still soft in all the ways that mattered. The deep drag of his voice. The way he held me as I cried after he saved me.

“Well?” Lex hissed over the line.

I cleared my throat. “I'm sorry Mr. Luthor, I don't have a particularly strong opinion about Superman.” Lex scoffed. I practically stabbed my still half frozen beef apart with a spatula. 

“Fix that then,” and he hung up. I pulled my phone from my ear in disbelief before slapping it to the counter top with far too much force. Cabbage jumped at the noise and scampered away. 

“Fix that then,” I mocked, adding my seasoning to the meat. “Why does he even care? My opinions on Superman are irrelevant.” Especially since Lex hated him and I just wanted to fuck-

Tap tap

I spun toward my window and nearly screamed. Superman, in the flesh, was floating outside my apartment. He grinned at me and I was hit full force by the might of his good looks. I dropped the lid on my pan to stop my ravenous cat from swiping any food before kneeling in front of my window. “What are you doing here?” I asked once I had opened it. 

“I said if you ever needed help, just say my name and I'll be there.” I blinked at him, bewildered. 

“So, what, are you just…listening to me? Always?” Hopefully not all the time. I had been talking way too much shit about Lex. It could be used as blackmail, not that Superman struck me as the blackmail type. 

He shook his head, “only when you say Superman.” He tilts his head, big blue eyes blinking up at me, the picture of innocence. “It’s easy to remember your voice." I blushed and looked down at my hands in my lap. It wasn’t really even a compliment, but the way he said it, all soft and earnest, made my heart flutter.

“Do you flirt with all the women you help?” He smiled again. I had forgotten those dimples. Who gave him the right to look like this? 

“Only the ones with cats who climb trees.” As if on queue, Cabbage jumped onto the window, her fluffy body flinging itself against the newly replaced screen. She meowed, the sound rattling as she purred. “Well hey there pretty girl,” he whispered. The words pretty girl made my mind jump to all manner of depraved situations. He attempted to scratch at her through the mesh and she whined at the lack of pets. 

“Do you want to come up?” I was even surprised by my own offer. Maybe I just wanted to be close to him, very close. “I’m making some food,” I pointed unnecessarily over my shoulder at the simmering pan. “It’s not going to be pretty, and only half way decent, but it'll be filling.” For the first time ever, I saw a flicker of sadness on his face. “Cabbage would appreciate it,” I added hopefully. She meowed loudly. 

“I’m sorry,” he trailed off. “Gosh, I don't even know your name.” I raised my eyebrows. 

“I don't think I've ever heard an adult man say gosh.” He looked bashful, a delicate blush on his cheeks. 

“Ma told me not to swear. It gives people a bad impression.” It was hard to imagine him being a child. He was this larger than life figure, it would have made sense for him to just appear in the world, fully formed. When I told him my name, he grinned, and even his teeth were perfectly imperfect, the canine on his right side was just a little longer. “I like it, it suits you.”

“Is there something I can call you? Or am I forced to just call you Superman like your fans?” He pressed a hand to his chest dramatically, gasping as if in pain. 

“Are you saying you’re not a fan?” I hummed, pretending to consider it, while Cabbage attempted to bite her way through the screen to get pets from the man floating outside. I opened my mouth to respond, to keep this light banter going, when he interrupted me. “Your phone is ringing.” I groaned before standing and stalking back to the counter. 

“Good evening again Mr. Luthor,” I said, as calmly as I could. I shot Superman an apologetic look, mouthing one minute, before checking on my all but forgotten food. Thankfully, it was only slightly burnt on the bottom. 

“What time is my meeting with Queen tomorrow?” Lex’s voice was definitely slurred and the music was even louder. I could hear women laughing now and something that sounded suspiciously like moaning under the heavy bass. I rolled my eyes and snapped the dial for the burner off with a little more force than needed.

“You are meeting Mr. Queen tomorrow at ten thirty.”  Lex grunted and I elected to believe it was in annoyance and not for any other reason. 

“Make it one.” My spatula clattered against the side of the pan. “I don’t want to deal with that obnoxious dick so early.” 

“I-I’m sorry Mr. Luthor,” I stuttered, “that’s just not possible. Mr. Queen is flying out of the country at noon. This was the only time he was available. I can try to reschedule it to when he comes back from France but-”

“No,” Lex growled, “I need that business proposal of his tomorrow.” For a few moments all I can hear is music. “Make it happen.” Then the line goes dead. I stared at the black rectangle in my hand in disbelief. Anger and anxiety swirled inside me, sapping away my appetite, and leaving me feeling shaky. How dare he pull this bullshit move on me? He had me make this meeting specifically at that time to rush Oliver Queen out. Lex had complained endlessly about how much Oliver talked. But if I didn’t do this, I knew I would be fired. I had moved here, gave up my family and friends in Gotham, for this job. And now Lex was putting it on the line because he was drunk and being more terrible than normal? 

“You work for Luthor?” 

“Jesus!” I gasped. My creeping panic had made me completely forget the alien floating outside my window. I pressed a hand to my racing heart, willing it to slow. “Yes. I started a couple weeks ago, that's why I moved here. He’s been…”

“A jerk?” he supplied. I shrugged, dumping my food in a bowl, before sitting in front of my window again. 

“I was going to say a massive fucking jackass,” I speared a piece of beef with my fork, imagining it was Lex’s head. “But sure, let's go with a jerk.” Superman’s head whipped to the side, some invisible force pulling his attention away. “You okay?” He blinked several times, eyes narrowing, brows scrunched. 

“I have to go.” The stress lines on his forehead didn’t ease as he looked back at me. “There’s a fire in-” 

I cut him off, “you don't have to explain yourself. Go, save the city. I have work to do anyways.” There was a beat where we just looked at each other. I had the craziest urge to lean forward and kiss him, the screen between us be damned. Even Cabbage glanced between us, sensing the tension. “Go Superman.” He nodded and in the blink of an eye, he was gone, wind wiping my hair back. 

*****

I bustled inside Lex's empty office the next morning, the sun barely peaking between the skyscrapers, painting the windows orange. His office was comfortable, but only when he wasn't in his chair glaring at everyone. 

“You're here early,” rasped a voice behind me. Lex leaned against the door frame, his suit impeccable, a faint tinge of green to his already pale skin. I gave him my most award winning smile. His lip curled in annoyance. 

“Good morning Mr. Luthor!” I chirped and he grimaced at the volume of my voice. “I figured after your exciting night last night,” a smug grin flashed across his face before it was wiped away with a wince, “you would want something to help.” I gestured him closer and he reluctantly complied, dropping it to his chair, which cost more than my entire apartment, with a huff. “Advil for the headache, since I know you don't like Tylenol.” I shook the bottle unnecessarily and he scowled. I ignored him. “Water bottles,” the glass of his too expensive preferred water clicked loudly on his wood desk. “I have also always found that a bagel with extra cream cheese helps.” I dropped it in front of him.

During my long night, I came to the realization that I needed to murder Lex…with kindness…obviously. Hence my new bubbly personality. I knew it would piss a hungover Lex just enough. 

The way he glared at me told me he knew exactly what I was doing. 

But there was a microscopic spark of respect in his blue eyes. 

“What about the meeting?” I smiled even bigger. I probably looked a little deranged, and maybe I was. It was a dumb idea to intentionally egg on your boss but I was still furious that he asked me to do something impossible the day before. Well, almost impossible. 

“You have a virtual meeting with Mr. Queen today at one.” Lex crossed his arms and sneered up at me. 

“And what about his business proposal?” His voice was snide. “I can't show up at a meeting without it. What? Do you want me to look like a fucking idiot?” 

The business proposal was a brick of paper and it sounded like one when I slapped it down on his desk. He jumped and hissed in pain at the sound. 

“A Luthorcorp company card does wonders to get me to Star City in the middle of the night.” I had called every private car service I could find and only one was available, the most expensive one. The bill had made my brain physically hurt, but it was just a little piece of revenge. I met up with Oliver's secretary, who I had met a handful of times at conferences and galas, and she was able to give me the documents early. Lex grunted, lugging the proposal closer, avoiding looking at me. Maybe he was feeling a little bit of shame? I hadn't failed like he wanted me to. I stalled him with my hand on the sleek green cover, embossed with the Queen Industries logo. “Will that be all Mr. Luthor?” 

“Yes.” He tried to tug the documents closer to himself but my nails dug into the faux leather. 

“I will be taking a half day today.” There was a pause and I thought he was fed up with my mind games. I braced for him to start shouting, or fire me. But he surprised me.

“Fine.” I straightened and he tracked me up. There was something in his gaze that made my skin prickle in warning. But I was on edge already. I had gotten a total of four hours of very interrupted sleep, caught only on my trip to and from Star City. So I brushed it away. The two red bulls I had chugged before coming into the building had clearly caught up to me. 

I straightened my blouse and rolled my shoulders back. “Thank you.” Without another look, I left his office. 

Several hours, one intense nap, and one in depth shower later, I stood outside the biggest club in Metropolis. Music pulsed through the alley where we all waited, neon lights spilling from the open door. I could smell the mix of cheap perfume, fruity alcohol, and sweat this close to the door. Bad decisions. 

Exactly what I needed right now. 

I finally got a win at work. The look of pathetic annoyance on Lex's face would fuel me for weeks. I wanted to let go, drink a little too much, and dance till my feet ached. But more importantly, I need to get fucked. Fucked in that way that would make me forget everything. All bite and rough, desperate, hands in a dark corner. I needed that release more than air at this point. The tension had been prickling under my skin for months, finally hitting its peak last night. Maybe the stress of getting that meeting rearranged jump started this. No other reason. 

I handed over my club fee, chest aching a bit at the amount, before the bouncer checked my ID, and waved me in. The inside was massive. On the first floor, there were several bars, all packed with customers. In the center, lowered by a few steps, was the dance floor. It was completely filled with bodies all dancing to the DJ on the stage. Along the sides were staircases, entrances guarded by security guards, that led up to large vip rooms, long balconies connecting them.

I decided to head to the farthest bar as it looked the least busy. The flashing lights caught on the tiny wisp of glimmery fabric I called a dress, scattering rainbows across the dark floors. The dress had a drooping neckline, pooling perfectly between my breasts, the hem just grazing under the curve of my ass. It was impractical, hanging on by a few delicate chains around my neck, and only allowed for my smallest pair of underwear. 

I wedged my way to the metal bar and waited for a bartender to catch my eye. While I stood, I scanned the area, scoping out any single men I could spot. I chose this club intentionally. It was known as somewhere celebrities and wannabes all gathered. I wasn't usually picky but I needed someone with strong arms and a sturdy chest. Someone who could hold me close while he drove inside me. Someone who wouldn't wince when I dug my nails into his shoulders.  It seemed to be all I could think about. 

The bartender dropped my usual cocktail in front of me. She watched me in amazement as I downed it all in one gulp. “Another?” I nodded, dabbing at the corner of my lips with the napkin. 

“And a shot or two!” I called back. 

Once all that alcohol was flooding through me, I dove into the dancing bodies. I danced with man after man, desperate for someone who felt just right. This one's hair was blond. This one's eyes were brown. He groped at my hips like a horny teenager. The arms around me weren't firm with muscle. I slipped away from each and everyone of them. With every failed prospect, I grew more and more angry. What was wrong with me? Some of these men looked to be literal models and I just pushed them away? 

After a song by myself, all the men giving me a wide berth, I realized what I was searching for. 

Superman. 

It was embarrassing being so horny for a man I didn't know. Despite us touching, speaking, we've never really met. He was playing a character, someone overly kind and larger than life. He was probably sweet on everyone, no matter what he said otherwise.

But I couldn’t deny that I wanted him. Maybe it was the kindness, the faint Southern twang on a few of his words, that made me want to take him apart. I wanted him to squirm under me, trace the blush on his neck with my tongue, see if he was just as patient when I edged him. The idea of him snapping, pinning me to the mattress and fucking me like he means it, made heat pool in my stomach. 

This is too much.

When the song changed, the bass rumbling through my body, another set of hands caressed my hips. I spun gratefully, body pressed flush against the man who was there. He was hot, so very hot. It only took a few lingering touches on his stomach, the firm lines of abs obvious through his sweat soaked shirt, for him to lean down and kiss me. 

It was messy, all tongue and teeth, but it was what I wanted. I kept repeating that to myself as his hand slid under my dress. He's hot and not an unavailable superhero. Sure, his arms weren't quite right, and his hands were too rough as they dug into my ass. But it's a fine trade off. Right?

Fuck.

I leaned back, a line of spit connecting our lips. “I'm sorry!” I shouted, “I have to go!” He tried to say something but I was already elbowing my way out of the throng of people. I felt the hair along my neck stand up, like someone was staring at me, and I paused. No one on the ground floor was lingering on me, so I turned to the top floor. There was someone up there, but the booze and intense lights obscured them. Either they had such blond hair it was invisible or they had none. 

But looking up at such a sharp angle made my vision swim. So I continued my way out of the too packed club, finding a side door to leave through. The wind was icy against my overheated exposed skin and I shuddered. It did help clear my head though. I stumbled a few blocks down before ordering an uber. While I waited, I pulled up the browser tab on my phone, and started scrolling through Superman pictures. Even when I climbed into the Uber, I kept looking. By the time I staggered out, I had reached the fourth page of Google, a new feat. He looked so fucking good from any angle. There was one where he was a handful of pixels in a grainy photo and was still somehow the hottest blob of red I had ever seen.

Once I was inside my apartment building, I kicked off my sky high heels and slumped against the elevator wall as I traveled up. The metal was soothing against my bare back which had become itchy from the dried sweat after dancing for hours. I managed to get into my apartment after the fifth attempt of fumbling with my keys. Cabbage meowed up at me as she wound through my legs. 

“S-stop,” I huffed, “gonna make me trip.” She didn't care. I stumbled and had to catch myself on my coffee table. “Cabbage!” My shout was weak but she got the message, trotting away with her tail held high. I wobbled to my bedroom and closed the door. The tracks on the window screamed at me when I slid it open. A blessedly cool breeze ruffled my hair and I leaned into it, nose against the screen. The building facing my bedroom was an office building. All the windows were dark, only a few strips of low ambient light drifting through the glass.

I collapsed onto my bed with a groan, legs dangling off the edge. I should be in the club's bathroom or stumbling into a man's apartment right now. But I couldn’t stop thinking about him. Superman had become a sickness, seeping through my blood, and seeing him last night only reignited my attraction. But that attraction also brought up a flash of disgust at myself. He had shown zero interest in me besides polite small talk and a few compliments. Yet, all I could think about was the feel of his arms as he held me on that rooftop.

“I'm pathetic,” I whined, throwing an arm over my eyes. I wanted to drive away the gnawing desire inside me but I was already drifting off into a fantasy land. 

We were back on the roof. I was in his lap, cradled against his big body. It was that moment when I swore he nearly kissed me. But this time, we weren't interrupted. He kissed me softly, like I was something delicate, hands light on my hips.

My own hand drifted down my torso as I drew my feet up onto the edge of my mattress, dress sliding to my hips, the sequins scraping against each other. No, I want him rough. Like a movie, I rewound the scene. 

His eyes flicked to my lips and I shuddered at the hungry look in them. He lifted me easily, positioning my hips over his own, and kissed me like he was starving. I moaned into him as my fingers slid into his hair. 

A real moan slipped from between my lips as my hand settled between my legs. My panties were damp already. I drew slow circles over my clit, the lacy fabric a pleasant bite against it. 

He was hard under me as I pressed against his hips. His tongue pushed inside my mouth. His hands, big and warm, rolled my hips over his own. He growled into my mouth, a sound of pleasure turned desperate. “Feels good,” he mumbled as he drew back from my kisses. Instead, he latched into my neck, teeth dragging against my sensitive skin, tongue tracing my racing pulse point. 

I whimpered, hips shifting, grinding against nothing. One breast slipped free of my dress and the exposed nipple peaked as a cool breeze caressed it. My pussy was growing warmer, more slick collecting inside the fabric. 

I was moaning unabashedly, my body arched against his, craving more of his touch. “Look at you,” he teased, kissing back up my neck, “all desperate and pathetic.” His words were followed by a nip on my ear and I jerked as pain and pleasure rippled through me. 

A small part of me reminded myself that Superman was sunshine made human. He wouldn't hurt me like this. But I ushered that part away. What did I know? I should be allowed to imagine whatever I wanted. It wasn’t like I would be blessed with the real thing. 

“Yes,” I responded, “only for you.” He hummed his approval. My hands drifted down his chest, searching for a way to get his thick suit off him. “Please, wanna touch you.” His chest rumbled with a laugh and I yanked at his hair. “Fuck me,” I demanded, voice shaky with need. His hands slipped under my shirt, toying with the hem of my jeans. 

“Be good for me,” he purred, teasing the button open with aching slowness, “beg.” I did. My pleas and promises of being a good girl for him blended together. 

I barely realized that I was begging in real life. My fingers caught in the waist band of my panties and I tugged them down my legs, the lace catching on my left foot. The full force of the cold air around me made me shudder as it brushed against my wet pussy. But I didn't notice, or care, too absorbed in my fantasy. The tips of my fingers found my clit and began to trace the bundle of nerves. I was so wet that my fingers slipped over it every few strokes. 

My hands, which had settled on his broad shoulders, were trembling in anticipation as he eased my zipper down. He pinched the edge of my panties and drew them up so he could examine them. I squirmed, the fabric pulling against my clit, the feeling on just the right side of pain. “These are cute,” he tugged on them experimentally, eyes glued to my face so he could watch it twist. “Just like you.” I flushed. 

“Please,” I mumbled pathetically. The corner of his lips quirked, just enough for his dimples to show. 

“I suppose you've been good enough.” He let go of my panties. I nearly howled as his calloused fingers wedged into my jeans, fingers finding my clit with ease. 

“Superman,” I cried. Then my body stilled as I realized I had said that out loud. I waited, my chest tight. A telltale whoosh of air floated into the room. 

Then nothing. He didn't leave nor did he speak.

I swallowed thickly. Maybe it was just the wind. Maybe I was just too horny and jumping to conclusions. But the idea of him lingering, watching, didn't turn me off. In fact, it did the opposite. My fingers went back to work, the sound of my wetness extra loud in my ears. “I've been thinking about you.” I didn't really mean to start speaking, the words just bubbled out of me, aided by the alcohol still simmering in my blood. “I went to a club, I wanted to get fucked so badly I thought I was going to die. But none of them were,” my voice hitched as I felt a fire build inside me, “were you.” 

I reached up, my free hand twisting at my exposed nipple, the extra stimulation making my back arch. “In my fantasies,” I started again, voice brittle, “you're rough. I want you to pound into me. Fuck me.” My fingers were growing more insistent, thighs trembling, that burning inside me blooming higher. “But I know you wouldn't be like that.” 

I paused, feeling like I was about to be too vulnerable for a man I'm not even sure was really here. “I don't want you to be like that,” I confessed quietly. “I want you to kiss me like,” my eyes squeezed shut, “like I'm special to you.” Maybe that was my big secret. It's easy to chalk all my feelings around him to pure lust. He was, by all accounts, the most attractive man I had ever seen. Perfect boy-next-door good looks, muscles that strained against his suit, and hair that was just begging for my fingers to run through it. But I didn't just want to have sex with Superman. I wanted to be with him. I wanted to wake up in the morning to his face. Learn about the man he was out of the suit. Make him breakfast in the mornings and give him shoulder rubs at night. 

But, that felt like too much to tell even the open air that was probably outside my window, so I fought it back and changed my approach.

“I want to hear you moan for me, maybe even beg.” Just imagining him under me, cheeks flushed, hair messy, chest heaving as I edged him till he was a pleading mess, made my hips jerk and my voice pitch up. My fingers grew quicker but sloppier as heat licked up my body and my stomach grew taut. “Shit,” I breathed, “I'm going-fuck!” 

I heard, for a brief second, something that sounded like an intake of breath. But it was quickly covered up by my wanton moans of his name. My heels dug into the mattress and my back arched as I came. Even in the rush of the orgasm, I didn’t stop working myself. I was desperate for more. But ‘more’ meant him. So I had to settle for the bite of overstimulation. My body shuddered as I drew out the euphoria longer and longer until I was a panting, sweaty mess on my bed. 

As I laid, I felt a breeze rush in through the open window. I had no strength to lift myself up to try and spot him. But then, another breeze came in, the same strength and temperature. 

Something inside my chest ached. 

It had just been the wind.