ᝰedenᵎ

You merely groaned, sinking further into the couch cushions where you sat. Your hands went to cover your face, legs tucked up under you.

“Is there something wrong with me?”

Clark raised a single brow, flopping down onto the couch next to you. “Excuse me?”

You groaned, dropping your head on his shoulder. Either something was wrong with you, or literally everyone else. You were certain of it. You’d attempted once again to date someone. Last time, a girl talked about her ex the whole time. Before that, someone else had been very adamant about splitting every bill to the exact cent. Tonight, you’d given a chance to a guy who seemed a little insecure on the dating app you’d found him on. That was your mistake. He appeared normal enough at first. Maybe not totally your type, but you were always willing to give someone a chance if you thought you might at least have a compatible personality and a similar sense of humor. This dude had neither. 

“Once again, I give a chance to some loser on a dating app. Once again, I get fucked,” you huffed out, cheek smushed to Clark’s shoulder. “And not in a fun way.”

His ears went a little red, but they always did when you spoke like that.

He’d found you through Jimmy a couple years ago. You were an old friend from high school who was looking for a reliable roommate, and Clark, at the time, could certainly use someone to help ease the load of his bills. Metropolis wasn’t cheap for an up-and-coming reporter. You were sweet, funny, and according to Jimmy, extremely reliable. Clark found out that you could also be a bit of a mother hen, which he was more than happy to be on the receiving end of. He liked coming home to someone who cared about what happened to him. Especially when that someone made him blueberry pancakes on Sunday mornings and liked to go bowling with him on Tuesday nights.

But, you were never one to be terribly shy. Years later and he was still a little squeamish when you’d swear like a sailor or talk about your sex life. He didn’t want to think about you like that. At least not in front of you.

When he was alone, though, it was a bit of a different story. 

Of course, he felt guilty about it every time it happened. But he could only take so much, and it's not like he was one to date around or get his fix with a girl he doesn’t know all that well. He tried hard not to, but sometimes you’d discuss your latest escapade or walk around in nothing more than your cute little panties and a t-shirt and he would suddenly find any excuse to run to his bathroom. He didn’t always touch himself! No, that would be rude. Sometimes he just took a freezing cold shower, or he’d just stand there and think of his Pa talking about one of the cows giving birth or Steve eating a meatball sandwich. That usually got rid of it fast.

But, every now and then, he just couldn’t help himself. He’d scurry off to his room for a while, and try his best to see how quickly he could make himself finish. His record was two and a half minutes. No more than a casual bathroom break. He would be quite proud of it if it weren't for the overwhelming shame and guilt that followed for jacking off to the thought of his roommate. 

He gulped, resting his cheek against the top of your head. “What happened?”

“I’m never dating a man with zero confidence ever again.” You patted his thigh, pretending you didn’t notice how he tensed from the contact. You thought it was sweet how shy he seemed to be. “Go get dressed and I’ll give you the run-down. You’re gonna dirty up our couch in your little get-up.”

He snorted a laugh. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Don’t you ‘yes, ma'am’ me.”

He just got up, smiling to himself. You watched him go, that giant of a man. Part of you almost wanted to just ask him to bed you. Maybe not date, you weren’t sure you were exactly his type. But god… if it wouldn’t totally fuck up your roommate situation, you’d have tried getting in his pants the first time you’d met him.

You still remembered it. 

When Jimmy had told you that he had a friend from work who was looking for a roommate, you didn’t expect 240 pounds of bumbling gorgeous. He blushed when you said hello, told you he’d cover three quarters of the rent while you got your bearings after your last roommate had put you out to couch surf, and could hardly look you in the eye after you’d made an extremely mild flirtatious comment. You may or may not have casually asked Jimmy if Clark was single after that. Jimmy shoved you and told you to leave the poor guy alone. 

In retrospect, he was looking out for both of you. It probably wouldn’t have ended in a signed lease as much as a single, glorious night. If you even got that far. You were certain that Clark was the boyscout to end all boyscouts. Once he’d told you he was Superman, you knew that your suspicions had been confirmed.

But agreeing not to fuck him didn’t mean you couldn’t look.

You ended up being glad you never did, anyway. He’d become a great friend in the time you’d been living together. He was courteous, kind, and you didn’t have to carry groceries a single time in over two years any time you’d gone shopping with him. He always bent to your will when it came to picking out what to watch for movie nights, and was shockingly funny when he wanted to be. It was a good deal. A great deal. A fantastic deal with a cute butt and stunning dimples.

Clark shrugged out of his suit in the privacy of his room, briefly pressing his nose to the shoulder of his suit where he could still smell your shampoo before he came to his senses. He took a fast shower, rubbing one out for good measure. He figured if he got ahead of the curve, there was less chances of getting hard out of the blue if you touched him literally anywhere. He bit into his lower lip, spilling against the shower wall with a soft sound that sounded suspiciously close to your name. But he’d never admit as much, even to himself.

He found himself on the couch with you that evening, listening intently to you spill your guts about yet another date from hell. He frowned as you recounted the man’s behavior, an arm slung around your shoulders as his face was pressed against your hair.

“Maybe you should take a break from the apps,” he mumbled after you’d finished.

You sighed. “Mm… maybe. But god, what gives? It’s not like I’m specifically seeking out true love right now. Some consistent sex would suffice, but even that is impossible.”

He coughed once, cheeks going red again. “Uh… right. Well…”

“Sorry. I know you get squeamish about that,” you mentioned with a chuckle.

“I’m not squeamish.”

“You get all blushy if I talk about sex.”

He huffed. “It’s… you just… you talk about it like–”

“See? Squeamish.” You chuckled, adjusting to look up at him.

Clark groaned, pushing you away. You laughed harder, pulling the tiniest grin from his lips.

“You’re mean to me. Just cause I don't share all of my… experiences.”

You raised a brow. “To be fair, I didn’t realize you even had experiences.”

He flushed again, hand on the back of his neck. Taking care of himself in the shower evidently didn’t prevent anything. He crossed one of his legs over the other, trying to mask what jumped up in his sweats.

“It’s not like I’m a virgin.”

“Could’a fooled me.”

He glared at you. “Be nice.”

“I’m plenty nice.”

“You make fun of me.”

“Only cause I love you,” you teased, pinching his cheek. “And cause I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk about a girl since you dated Lois.”

He sighed, head leaning back onto the couch. “I don’t like doing– doing that unless I really like somebody. I just haven’t found the right person in a while is all.”

You smiled, softer now. You took his hand in yours, squeezing it softly as your head found its way to his arm again.

“That’s very sweet.”

“Don’t make fun–”

“I mean it, Clark.”

He glanced down out of the corner of his eye to where you leaned against him. His thumb brushed over your knuckles gently as you both refocused to the tv that was running in the background. He leaned over, kissing the top of your head.

“You deserve better than those folks you’ve been out with lately, you know?”

“I know.”

“Mm.”

You let out a soft breath. “The last girl I was out with tried telling me she didn’t like how I kissed.”

“Oh.”

“Which is total bullshit, by the way. She said she could ‘help me figure it out’.” You rolled your eyes. “I know for a fact that I don’t need help.”

Clark just nodded once. “R-right.”

“I don’t think anyone has ever told me that before.”

“Hm.”

“Are you going to say anything else to me?” You glanced up at him with a laugh.

“I’m, uh– I’m sure you’re a very good kisser?”

You snorted. “Have you ever had someone tell you that?”

“Tell me…?”

“You can’t kiss. Or need help or whatever.”

He shook his head. “Uh, n-no?”

“You think you’re good at it?”

He flushed again, looking away. “Come on…”

“Alright, you big baby. I’ll quit asking.”

He let out a slow breath. That ended up being a long night for him once he went to his room for the night.

Weeks later, he groaned as he woke up, still a bit dazed from a deep sleep. He woke to the sound of you shuffling around the apartment, but couldn’t yet bring himself to climb out of his cozy bed. It wasn’t until he heard his door creak open that he made an attempt at opening his eyes. 

“Good morning, sunshine,” you whispered, sneaking into his bedroom.

He laid there in his plaid pajama pants, washed in sunlight and tangled in his sheets. He blinked groggily as you walked in, smiling a little at the sight of you in little more than a t-shirt and panties. He wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to you being so… comfortable.

“You took my shirt again,” he rasped, holding out a hand as you crawled into bed with him.

You made yourself comfortable on his bed, cross-legged and taking his hand as he turned onto his back on the mattress.

“I like this shirt. It’s soft.” You shrugged, tugging lightly on the hem of his old Met U t-shirt. “Besides, if you keep throwing your clothes into my hamper, you can’t be mad when I take them.”

He just hummed once, rubbing his eye with the heel of his hand. “Guess so. I like it on you anyway."

“Flirt.”

“That was not.”

“So you think I’m ugly?”

He scoffed, eyes going wide. “Wha– I didn’t say that!”

You tried to keep it together, but his immediate defense and embarrassment was too much to handle. You chuckled a little, his features softening but still stern as he muttered your name in a scold. 

“You’re so easy to rile up.” You grinned.

“You’re rude.”

“You adore me.”

He sighed, arm around your waist as he pulled you down with him. You squealed, settling yourself with your knees on either side of his hips. He intended merely to bring you a little bit closer, maybe get you to quiet down, but Clark realized too late what a pickle he’d just gotten himself into as he loosened his arm.

“Oh, geez–” he mumbled, feeling himself freeze up.

“If you wanted me on top of you that bad–”

“Quit it.”

“Yes, sir.”

He frowned, stomach dropping as he felt his blood rush south. You chuckled for only a moment before something else caught your attention, something that wasn’t there before suddenly insistently pressing against your bare thigh.

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry,” Clark squeaked out, eyes squeezing shut. “Shoot, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

“Not your fault.”

“It kind of is.”

“You didn’t get hard on purpose, I’m sure.”

He groaned. “Please don’t talk about it.”

“Too late, it’s touching me.”

He whined. Honest-to-god whined. His hands settled on your hips, trying weakly to push you away. You had two options in front of you, you realized: allow him to push you away and pretend it never happened, or…

You gripped his wrists, stopping him from pushing you away. He looked up at you, alarmed with his ears turning red as fast as his cheeks did. 

“What are you doing?”

You just shrugged, pushing your hips back up from where he’d tried shoving you away. Clark gasped at the small amount of friction it provided to his restricted length. He breathed out your name again, though whether it was meant to be a warning or praise you weren’t quite sure. What you were sure of is that he looked really cute with rosy cheeks and parted lips, and a little dry-humping between friends never killed anyone.

“You can stop me if you really want to,” you spoke, voice barely louder than a whisper, your hips rolling against his with more purpose.

His jaw ticked, his eyes still closed. “I… I know.”

“Are you going to?”

He swallowed, hands gripping the fat of your hips with more strength, helping you along as you rocked against him again. He knew it would be reasonable to stop this. He didn’t do casual, he knew that he couldn’t. He also didn’t ever cross that line with you, despite the thoughts about you that seemed to plague his mind at any given moment. But this technically wasn’t anything, he rationalized with an extremely clouded mind. You both had clothes on, mostly. The most intimate skin contact was his hands on your hips and thighs. It was fine. He decided it was fine, so it would be fine. 

“No,” he finally answered after a moment.

Your hands ran over his wrists, his forearms, his fingers. You watched him carefully as his eyes slowly blinked open, hooded and dark. He watched the way your hips, clad in those soft blue panties, dragged over the evident bulge in his pajama pants. He let out a shaky huff, groaning under his breath.

“Gosh…”

“Yeah,” you breathed out with a short chuckle, hands against his bare stomach. Your fingers traced the little happy trail that snuck from his belly button down into his pants. His stomach jumped at the contact. “This is… nice. Good bonding time.”

“Bonding?” He laughed, breathing heavily. “I, uh–um… this is a heck of a way to bond.”

You just nodded, a small sound of agreement on your lips as he took a firmer hand guiding you over his erection. You felt the flimsy material of your panties clinging to your skin, soaked in your own arousal. You were sure you’d leave a spot against his pants, but you couldn’t bring yourself to feel embarrassed about it. 

Clark’s sounds grew louder, needier. His head was clouded over with want, his cock throbbing with a desire to be freed from the confines of fabric separating him from what he was sure would be a very soft, warm place between your legs. He’d thought about you a million times before, but this was the first time he could remember feeling truly, horribly desperate to be inside of you like this.

“Baby…” he groaned.

Fuck. You whined softly at the petname, your body moving against his with even more intention than you’d had a moment earlier. 

“Don’t stop,” you gasped, feeling a familiar coiling in your stomach.

He smiled, dazed out. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

You dragged yourself against the length beneath you, pleased to become so aware that he was just as big as you’d imagined him to be. A new buzz beneath your skin intensified as your clit caught on what felt like the thick head of his cock. You tried the same movement again, garnering the same result. Over and over and over. 

Clark whined underneath you, fingers dug into your thighs. “W-wait. Wait, honey, I’m–”

“No. N-no, please, I’m so close.”

He grunted, frustrated and ready to finish as well. “M-me too.”

“Don’t quit.”

“Okay,” he rasped. “Okay. O-okay.”

“Right there, just like this.”

He sucked in a sharp breath, one arm tugging you down against his chest. His face buried in your hair, a harsh groan coming from the back of his throat as his hips rutted up against you. You moaned against his ear, cumming hard, pussy clenching and pulsing around nothing. Clark could hear your heart speed up as you finished, his own release coming only a few seconds later. He spilled into his pants, one hand on your waist, the other in an iron grip on your thigh. 

You both laid there for a little while, the glow of your shared orgasm settling between you. You felt elated, cheek against his clammy bare shoulder. Clark felt… humiliated? Excited? A scary combination of both, it seemed.

“I’m… I’m really sorry.”

You breathed slow, pushing up on his chest to look down at him. “For what?”

“That was, uh…” He looked away. “I didn’t mean to do that.”

“To cum?”

He mumbled your name. “Gosh. Don’t say it like that. No, I meant doing all of that. I don’t–”

“I liked it, for the record.”

He swallowed. “Me too, but I shouldn’t have.”

“Clark. Come on,” you whispered, tilting his head to look at you again. “If you liked it and I liked it, then there’s nothing wrong. It was fun. You had a good time, right?”

He gave a pouty nod. “Yeah.”

“Quit pouting.”

“I’m not pouting.”

“You totally are. You just came and found a way to feel immediately guilty about it. You’re not Catholic, cut it out.”

“Ma did bring me to church sometimes when I was little…”

“Clark.”

He sighed, a soft smile making its way to his face. “Sorry. I– I did like it. That was nice.”

“We didn’t fuck. I think we can chalk it up to a fun activity between roomies.”

“You have an odd idea of what a roommate activity is.”

You smiled, brushing his dampened hair away from his face. 

If Clark thought he was struggling with how he felt about you before, it was a whole new ballgame now. He knew he had a bit of a crush, as evidenced by the way his dick would jump to life if he thought about you too hard. But it was suddenly leagues worse. 

He didn’t have to wonder what you’d sound like under him, he knew. He didn’t have to guess if you’d be soaked and warm for him, he had evidence in the form of a wet spot on the pants he’d worn that morning. You came rubbing yourself on him. He came in his pants. You got each other off. He wasn’t going to be quick to forget it. 

Going into work that morning didn’t help him out at all. He was certain his cheeks were still a little pink as he stumbled into his desk chair at the Daily Planet. Evidently, he wasn’t making it all up in his head. 

“Dude.”

Clark glanced up to see Jimmy staring at him pointedly. He raised his brows in question. 

“Who’s the girl?” Jimmy asked, his arms crossed. 

Clark sputtered. “Wha– there’s no girl.” 

“Bullshit. You look like you got laid.”

“I did not–” Clark sighed, adjusting his glasses. “Why would you even think that?”

“You just look… satisfied. Too happy to be here at nine in the morning.”

“I like my job.”

“Not that much, man. Come on, Clark,” Jimmy huffed, certain he wasn’t imagining things. “I haven’t seen you like this in… ever.”

Clark bit the inside of his cheek, turning back to his computer, trying to ignore Jimmy commenting on his behavior under his breath. Jimmy didn’t often let him be for very long, though. 

Clark was making an attempt to mind his business on a bench outside, quietly eating the PB&J he’d packed for himself that morning, until Jimmy found him. Clark glanced up, cheeks filled.

“Hi?”

Jimmy sat on the bench next to him, stretching out. He sighed heavily before he looked to his friend.

“You’re really going to do the whole ‘secret girlfriend’ thing again?”

Clark frowned, swallowing. “I’m not.”

“You’re really bad at lying.”

“I’m not lying. I don’t have a girlfriend.”

Jimmy snorted a laugh. “So you are hooking up with someone? Of all people?”

Clark sighed, his sandwich dropping down in his limp hand. “I’m not doing that either.”

“I’ll find out eventually, you know that, right?”

Clark just took another bite, ignoring the comment. Jimmy was annoyingly perceptive sometimes. Clark often thought Jimmy should’ve been an investigative journalist when he acted like that. But, he was finally offered some reprieve when Jimmy changed the subject, talking about some plans to go out for drinks that Friday. Clark nodded along politely, not bothering to fully listen until it was too late. 

He realized after Jimmy grinned and told him to bring you along that he’d accidentally nodded to going with them.

Clark showed up at home with a shy wave, and a request on the tip of his tongue.

“So…”

You looked in his direction as he washed the dishes that night, sipping wine while propped up on the kitchen counter. He was still in his button up from work, sleeves rolled just past his elbows, humming to one of your songs playing softly in the room. He looked downright delicious. You wondered if your little tryst that morning would become a welcome addition to your routine as a pair, or if Clark would try to brush it under the rug like it had never happened. You hoped for the former.

“Yeah?” You replied after a second.

He let out a small puff of air. “Uh… Jimmy asked me to go out with him and a few folks from the office on Friday, after work. He said you should come with us.”

“Oh?”

“Uh huh.”

“Is that an invitation?”

He shrugged once. “If… if you’d like to come with, I’d love to have you.”

“You half-had me this morning already,” you quipped with a snorted laugh.

He felt his cheeks warm, your name a soft, almost disapproving sound on his lips. It only made you smile further, causing him to grin back against his better judgement. 

“I, uh… maybe we should talk about that. At some point.”

You raised a brow. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he affirmed with a nod, drying his hands after putting the last plate in the drying rack. He turned to you, crossing his arms. His breath hitched a tiny bit at the way your eyes dropped to his biceps. “Um… I just… I don’t know. That was different. For us.”

“I’d say so. Not exactly dry humping our brains out on a regular basis.”

“Hun,” he huffed, the pet name slipping out easily. “I’m trying to be serious.”

“Okay, okay,” you conceded, setting your glass down on the counter next to you. “Yeah. It was… unusual for us, for sure.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you think that’s a bad thing?”

He blinked, his eyes a bit wider. “W-well, no. Not bad, just… just different.”

“Is it something you’d want to do again?” You got to the point, tilting your head in question.

“I don’t know. Maybe? But it wasn’t–” He paused, taking a breath. He had to look away, suddenly feeling a little embarrassed. “I don’t usually do stuff like that.”

“You seemed pretty damn good at it.”

He flushed, all the way down past his collar. “I-I mean with somebody I’m not dating. I don’t do that unless I’m with somebody. This time was different.”

“If you don’t want to, we don’t have to. But for the record, I had a very good time.”

“Yeah. I did too.” He nodded, meeting your eyes again. “Can I think about it? If I can do it again?”

You agreed softly with a smile. He gave you a warm hug, letting it linger a little longer than he usually would. You graciously ignored the bulge you felt against your leg again.

He acted as normal as he could, still quite obviously thinking about what you’d done together, but trying not to let it show. He couldn’t help it. He’d fantasized for so long that getting a taste felt absolutely surreal.

Friday night came, and so did his lingering gaze on your chest in the tight top you wore to go out with his coworkers. He didn’t mean to look. It was just hard not to when your breasts were pressed up the way they were. 

He sat by your side through the night, sipping on a sprite and getting all of your margarita refills from the bar. He laughed at every joke you made, hardly noticing the looks between Jimmy and Cat at his behavior with you.

The moment he excused himself to go to the “bathroom”, aka he caught wind of a burning building and had to do his Super-thing, they all moved in on you.

“Seriously?” Jimmy started with a laugh.

You looked at your long-time friend, his expression bewildered. “What?”

He merely groaned, leaving it up to Lois to shake her head at you. You glanced at them all, unsure what the gossip was.

“He has that lost-puppy look,” Lois said with a short chuckle into her drink.

“Maybe a dog in heat,” Cat added in, laughing when the comment pulled a few sour looks from the phrasing. “Oh, you know what I mean.”

You sighed. “What are you guys talking about?”

“Clark,” Jimmy replied simply. “He looks like he’s actively holding back from bending you over the table.”

“You’re gross.” You snorted a laugh, sipping your drink. Little did he know.

“And you’re no better,” he quickly added. “Leaning into his side, giggling at his jokes. He is not that funny.”

“But he’s super cute,” Cat sang out with a grin.

“He’s been staring down your shirt literally all night.” Lois looked at you with a raised brow. “He is classically horrible at hiding how he feels. You can’t seriously say you haven’t noticed him falling over himself for you.”

“You guys are all ridiculous.”

Jimmy groaned. “Oh, please. I’ve known you forever, dude. And we all know Clark. Like Lois said, he is classically shit at hiding his feelings. She would know.”

“And dare I say, he’s acting even more desperate than anything I saw from him in the beginning,” she mentioned with a grin.

Cat laughed. “Oh my god. It’s so cute, come on. You two would be so sweet together.”

“She likes a big boy, too,” Jimmy noted.

“James,” you scolded.

“Just saying. You always went for the tall ones in high school. Except that one guy… Emmett?”

“Oh my god.”

“He was an interesting choice.”

“He was nice!”

Jimmy snorted, muttering under his breath, “and a freak.”

“You’re so–”

“What?” He laughed. “Don’t be like that, we’re just having some fun. Like I’m sure Clark would love to have with…”

You all looked at him as he trailed off, like he’d come to an epiphany all of a sudden.

“What?” Cat prodded first.

Jimmy smiled, which was often dangerous. 

“Are you the reason he came into work the other day looking like he got some?”

You were taken off guard. Oh boy. “Pardon me?”

“You so are.”

Cat gaped. “You already climbed that?”

“No–”

“Oh, she so is,” Lois mentioned softly to Jimmy, gossiping like you weren’t sitting right there.

You scoffed, floundering. They were all out to get you, you were certain of it.

“Why don’t you all bully Clark about this instead of me?”

“We bully him every day,” Jimmy explained.

You huffed a breath, melting into your seat as they chattered on. Fortunately, your drink ran out, and you had an excuse to leave in order to grab a new one. You got up, making a beeline for the bar, and placed your order for a hard lemonade. It was time to slow down if you didn’t want to wake up hung over.

You waited for a couple of minutes before the smell of Clark’s cologne clouded your head. He always wore a little extra when you went out, and god, he smelled good as fuck when you were a bit tipsy. You looked up to see him sidling up next to you with a smile.

“Everything go okay?” 

He nodded. “Yeah, of course. Firefighters did a great job, I just grabbed a nice old lady and her cat. Everyone else was already taken care of.”

“Good.”

“Everything okay here?”

“Your friends are horrible.”

He furrowed his brow. “What happened?”

You chuckled. “They’re just… nosey. It’s all Jimmy’s fault.”

“Nosey?”

“Yeah.” You thanked the bartender, tipping her as she handed over your bottle. “They were interrogating me about you.”

“About me?” He crossed his arms.

Your eyes flicked to his shoulders, his arms testing the limits of that baggy t-shirt. “Mhm.”

He gulped. “What’d they say?”

“They’re trying to figure out if we’re fucking,” you stated, meeting his eyes again. “I told them no, but they have officially made up their minds.”

He let out a breath. “Gosh.”

“Yeah. Said you’re like a dog in heat who won’t stop staring at my tits.”

You laughed, but Clark blushed, shifting on his feet. Now it was his turn to let his eyes drop down. Okay, maybe they had a point about him looking at your boobs.

“They do look really nice.”

Oh shit. 

You blinked, not expecting him to be so forthcoming. But, to be fair, you did rub up on him until he made a mess of his pants only a few days before. 

“Huh.”

“S-sorry, I didn’t mean to–”

“Don’t fucking apologize.”

He paused, nearly pouting. “But–”

“It’s okay. Quit worrying so much, Clark,” you said softly, touching his arm. You glanced back at the table, the small group talking amongst themselves. “Come on. We should probably go back.”

He didn’t budge. “Or… maybe we can go home.”

“Oh?”

“Y-yeah.” He shrugged, trying like hell to be nonchalant. “If you want.”

You nodded, your final drink left full on the edge of the bar.

The walk back to your shared apartment was quiet, your hands brushing with every step, though neither of you made the move to do more than those soft touches. It wasn’t until you walked into your building, waiting for the elevator that you realized he was taking you home. Kind of. Did it count if you shared that home? Maybe it didn’t matter.

You both stepped into the elevator, Clark hitting the button for your floor. 

You glanced over first, eyes lingering on his jaw, his hair, his ear, his lips… everything. Clark followed, his eyes flicking over your arms, stomach, chest, face, and landing back on your eyes. It was a blur. Neither of you knew who moved first, only that suddenly you were against one another, your lips locked.

His hands gripped your waist and hips, pulling you into his body. You deepened the kiss, slipping your tongue against his, sucking on it when he tried pulling back. He groaned, his knees feeling weaker in an instant. He whispered your name, kissing down your neck.

You let him pick you up, wrapping your legs around his waist. He shuffled out of the elevator and towards your door, grateful that the hallway was empty. He fumbled with his keys, finally shoving it into the lock and stepping inside. 

“We’re gonna, like, really do this, huh?” you breathed out, giddy as he let you back down to kick off your shoes and jacket.

He grinned, dimples poking into his cheeks. “Yeah. Gosh, yes.”

He was on you again the moment you both were freed of your outerwear, scooping you up with ease. You worked on his t-shirt, pulling it up and over his head. It got flung somewhere in the living room. He pressed you to the wall in the hallway, tugging your top off and undoing the button and zipper of your jeans. His lips hardly left yours.

He walked again, leaving a trail of clothes behind like breadcrumbs. The moment he had you on your back in his bed, spread out on top of his sheets like you belonged there, his excitement turned to utter desperation. You watched as he pulled off the glasses he’d worn for the night and suddenly started pulling his belt loose, clearly trying to rid himself of his clothing as fast as he could. You followed suit with a thrilled fervor, shimmying out of your jeans and panties, ripping your bra off and flinging it somewhere unknown.

He groaned deep in his chest when he looked back to see you bare and waiting.

“I don’t deserve you.”

You chewed your lip. “You’re one to talk.”

He swallowed, your gaze burning his skin as it trailed from his chest, to his stomach, settling on his cock, bobbing and drooling, his tip swollen and aching.

“You’re so hot. Holy shit.”

His chest tightened at the rasp in your voice. He crawled on top of you, hands everywhere he could reach. He gripped your skin, lips and tongue and teeth leaving lasting marks down your neck and chest.

“Clark.”

He whined. “I wanna be in you so bad.”

“Do it.”

“N-no. Gotta get you ready first.”

You sighed in ecstasy, his fingers slipping between your legs. You let him kiss you like he needed it to live, two fingers shoved into your needy heat.

“You’re so wet. How are you so wet?” He heaved a few breaths, kisses all along your cheek.

“I was soaked the second you came out of your room before we left. You looked so fucking hot, and you smell so good, and… fuck, Clark, I wanted to choke on your cock when you put those dorky fucking glasses on before we left.”

He groaned pathetically. “You… Do you like the glasses that much?”

“You look like the hottest loser in the world with them on.”

He huffed a short laugh, though it was weak and wrecked. “Noted.”

“Let me suck it.”

“W-what?”

You pushed his hand away. “I’m ready enough. Back up. Please.”

He whined, reluctantly taking his fingers out of you. He shoved them in his mouth, eyes fluttering as he tasted you. You nearly drooled watching it. He let you push him onto his back, eyes locked on you as you took him in your hand.

“Thought you’d feel heavy,” you muttered, sucking his tip into your mouth. A broken noise escaped his chest. You slapped his dick against your tongue, the heft of him even better than you were hoping. “Fuck. Gorgeous cock.”

His hips jerked, his chest heaving. He thanked the heavens he had an abnormal ability to keep it up because he was certain that if he let himself, he would've cum all over your pretty face before you even took him. 

You sucked him into your warm, waiting mouth, hollowing out your cheeks as you started bobbing your head. He gasped, tiny sounds leaving him at every motion against his desperate length. You felt yourself dripping down your thighs, his cock down your throat further and further every time you went down again.

Your hand stroked what your mouth couldn’t fit, wanting every bit of him to feel cared for. But as good as it felt to suck his pretty cock, the kind of sound that he made when you moved down further caused the slick between your legs to increase even further than you realized your body was capable of.

Your lips closed around one of his heavy balls, your hand still insistently stroking him. His body tensed as he tried not to jerk hard against your face. You sucked on his full sack, alternating each side, unable to fit both in at once (even though you’d made an attempt). He nearly sobbed your name, your hand focusing on the hyper-sensitive head of his length.

You only pulled off when he physically pulled you away.

“Keep it up and I’m going to finish too fast.”

“That’s not bad.”

He huffed, a weak smile on his face. “Trust me, I’d love that any other time. This time, I want to do it right.”

You let him manhandle you, dropping you down against his pillows. He spread your legs apart, one look at how much wetter you’d become and his eyes closed for a few seconds.

“Holy c-crap.”

“What?”

He shook his head, looking back down. “You are just… dripping. Your legs are covered in it.”

“You have a really perfect dick. I got excited.”

He shuddered, rubbing your thigh gently. He knelt between your legs, draping your legs over his. He stroked himself, just staring at you. It was a minute before you made a quiet, impatient noise, finally calling him to action.

Clark pushed his flushed tip through the wetness between your legs. He watched the way your pussy glistened with arousal, his jaw slack and heart pounding. He let his heavy cock rest against your clit, slowly rutting against you just to watch the way your body jolted with the contact. He groaned, his eyes flicking briefly to your face. 

“You’re so beautiful. Pretty girl. Pretty… geez,” he huffed, eyes drawn back to your pussy. 

He gripped the base of his cock, tapping the blunt head against your sloppy clit, committing the sound of the wet slap to memory. He wanted to make sure he never forgot. He felt desperate. Overcome by need and the way you laid out for him, cunt on display just for him to play with. What an honor. 

“Can I put it in?” he mumbled, words slurring from pure want. “Please. Pretty baby, I wanna feel you. You’re so wet. Prettiest p-pussy ever, she’s so cute. Wanna feel you squeezin’ me–”

“Yeah. Yes, Clark, please. Put it in.”

He groaned, his eyes fluttering as he dragged himself down to your opening, chewing his lip as he pressed against you. He gulped, moving forward just enough to let you swallow his head. He gasped, chest heaving. 

“O-oh gosh.”

“Fuck, Clark.”

“Mm…” 

He adjusted his hips, pulling your lower half up onto his thighs. Your back arched, shoulders still pressed to the mattress as he molded your body to his, letting his cock slip in further until he was fully seated in you. He practically winced, holding back with everything in him.

“Feel better than I thought you’d be,” he mumbled under his breath. 

You breathed heavy, hands gripping his wrists where he held your hips as he delivered some shallow thrusts. Your eyes met his. “You’ve thought about it?”

He nodded, any of his usual guilt dissipating. “Yes. Yes, so many times. Knew you’d be perfect.”

“Shit. Here I thought you were a pure little boy scout,” you responded with a short laugh. 

“M’not bad. Just… just like you. You’re so… Geez,” he trailed off, head tilting back as his hips moved against yours. “You’re just really nice and pretty. You’re so sweet to me. Couldn’t help it, I just thought about you sometimes when I… when…”

“You jerked off thinking about me?”

He whimpered. “Don’t say it like that.”

“But you did.”

“Y-yeah. I did,” he admitted, pulling you up onto his lap.

Your arms circled his neck as he held you to his chest, thrusting up into you. You tried your best to assist, weakly bouncing on his thighs, but he was Superman, after all: he could very easily move you how he wanted to. And he did. He moved you along his cock with ease until you were quivering and whining his name. He moaned weakly as he felt your teeth sink into his skin, your pussy clenching and squeezing around him. He could hardly stand it, the sound of your soaked pussy even louder after you’d finished for him. He fucked into you with strong arms locking you in place until you were feeling him pump you full of his cum, breathing into your ear like he’d run a marathon. 

“Baby. Baby, baby, baby…” he whined, hips jerking a few more times as he babbled against your skin. “Oh, gosh. You’re so perfect, so good, honey. So good, you feel perfect.”

“Clark,” you sighed, blissed out.

He just shook in your grasp, body spent and somehow still so needy for you. He kissed up your neck, his lips moving along your skin. He nipped softly just under your ear. He pulled out of you slowly as his lips moved to your cheek, and finally to your mouth to kiss you properly. His tongue slid into your mouth as he laid you back down on the mattress, dancing along your own tongue. You kissed him back slowly, the action messy and full of want and untold affection. His hands touched your cheeks, moving down over your breasts.

“Gorgeous,” he spoke into your mouth, squeezing the soft flesh. His thumbs brushed over your nipples, sighing softly when they pebbled under his touch. “I love these.”

You just smiled, watching him kiss one perky nipple as an act of reverence. His lips moved along your breast, down your stomach, his fingers slipping over your slick pussy, catching on your sensitive little bundle of nerves.

“Wanna taste you,” he whispered against your thigh.

“You just came inside of me, Clarkie.”

He grinned at the name. “I know, baby. We made a mess, I’ll clean it up. Promise.”

His smile widened as your head tilted back, a heavy breath pulled from your lips. He moved his way up, a slow, open-mouthed kiss against your pussy when he finally met her. You moaned, eyes rolling back. He slid one of your legs over his shoulder, opening you up further as he licked his cum out of your fucked-out cunt. One hand gripped your thigh, the other kneading your tit, his mouth working you over. He sucked on your throbbing clit, tongue moving over every part of your soft flesh he could taste. Your hips jerked against his face. He chuckled quietly, his voice reverberated through you.

“Shit. Right there, please.” You gripped his hair, panting.

He obliged, eating you out like a man starved. His tongue scooped inside of you, his hips jerking against the mattress, already hardened again at the mixture of your flavor and his. It didn’t take long for him to have you careening over the edge again, gasping and whining, your grip in his hair tighter. He swallowed down everything you had to give him, gently licking you clean until you were begging him to slow down.

“You like it?” He looked at you with raised brows as he shifted his body to be over yours once more. 

“So much. Did so good, Clark.”

He brightened at the praise, licking the inside of your mouth like he did your cunt. 

“I’m ready again when you are,” he whispered against your lips.

It was a long night. A long weekend, in fact. One that ended in him deciding, while balls deep, that it would probably be a good idea to ask you out at some point.

Clark made it to work that Monday, floating on cloud nine with his head still swirling around little more than you. He smiled to himself as he stepped off the elevator, a pep in his step walking to his desk. He set down his things, scruffing his hand through his hair as he logged into his computer. He hadn’t noticed the suspicious eyes on him.

Jimmy watched him, shaking his head to himself. He let Clark have a moment, clearly elsewhere in his thoughts. But he couldn’t let him stew in love-sick peace forever. 

The thing was that Clark noticed the little things more frequently than he lead on. Didn’t want to make his concerns too sudden or loud that he might scare her off from feeling the freedom to be open with him after these struggles were so directly noted and perceived by her observant boyfriend. On the other hand he did want to sound the alarm, wanted to get as close to her as possible and address everything as soon as he witnessed it. Close off any distance between them and get to the bottom of what was bringing her to do this to herself, what was making her feel like keeping him at arm’s length when he wanted so desperately to be closer.

It became more obvious it wasn’t a one off thing because they lived together, and he sees her. Watches her out of pure adoration. Knows her body, memorizes her habits, her quirks and rituals that shape who she is. And when something stops feeling right he makes sure he holds her tighter, kisses her longer, tells her he loves her and that there was nothing she could confess to him that would ever make any of that affection and love go away.

Clark wished with everything in his heart that it was that easy and simple to take all of her pain away and make all her turmoil dissipate. A few kisses and talks. But it wasn’t going to be.

She started skipping breakfast at first, nonchalant while brushing off his offers for even a measly piece of toast and said they were about to be late for work.

The excuses from then on tended to vary from “I don’t have any time” to “I’m just not hungry yet, it’s still too early in the morning baby”then to “those are making my stomach upset lately. I’ll just drink a protein shake, come on. We have to go.”

He kept looking at her in almost frightened disbelief when her mood and her temper got increasingly worse whenever he offered her anything to make for her on the go. Waffles, pancakes, egg sandwiches, burritos — all of her favorite foods to eat just sat in the fridge, still bagged up and untouched. Sometimes they were hidden in the very back on the bottom shelf as to not alarm Clark that she had neglected to take them for lunch. Of course he notices. Frowns at it for a long while with a few sighs before ultimately closing the fridge, hugging an arm over himself before grabbing his phone to type out a text.

Is everything okay?

Have you eaten? I still see your lunch in the fridge. I can come by and bring some fresh food if you want something else. Hope your day is going good! I love you

Clark checks his phone every few minutes for her reply. It took over an hour, and she just sends a little heart and says she’s sorry and that she loves him too. Omitting any concrete answer to his offer or his question.

Somehow her appetite boiled down to coffee or lousy pieces of sugar free gum which was a piss poor excuse for a meal. That wasn’t even classified as a snack. But she insisted he put his concern to rest, putting her foot down, assuring him there was really nothing to be worrying about. Or worse, trying to laugh him off with a “who are you, grandma? Why do you care so much about what I had to eat?”

Clark sighed, kissed her forehead. Drove them to work with his mouth shut while her head turned to stare out the window, occasionally taking sips of her coffee and anxiously bouncing her leg up and down. He still tries to hold her hand or her back as they walk into the office, but she shrugs his touch away and walks slightly ahead. The subtle rejection bit him and burned with a sting that lingered over him all day.

Clark still tries to catch small glimpses of what was really going on in her inner world, figure out what she’d silently communicate even when she didn’t know or intend to. His ears perk and his brows pinch when he witnesses her looking at herself in the mirror, turning away, then crossing her arms. Mumbles something about how some of her shirts and a trusty old pair of jeans stopped fitting right then promptly trudges right back to their bedroom to lay down. Appearing more exhausted, gloomy and frail than he’d ever seen her.

When they first started dating, their meals were lavish. It was one of their many ways of connecting, of bonding over a meal and a chat about their day or any movies or books they’d dissect together or recommend to each other. Clark would put his skills to work in the kitchen and set her up with full plates that she was so giddy for that she’d end up licking it all up until it was clean. They’d laugh about being so full they couldn’t walk. She’d tell him how much of an incredible cook he is. He’d tell her how he experimented with some different techniques and ingredients and felt nervous about what she thought of the changes, and was delighted to hear that she enjoyed it.

Nowadays Clark ate alone at the dining table. If they did share dinner together she played around the chunks with a fork, getting lost in a story about her day hoping to distract from the fact that she’d barely taken more than a few bites. Clark’s wiped his plate clean and even goes for some cookies for dessert that she debates on having but soon turns them down and informs him she can’t stomach any sweets lately.

After an especially grueling day at work the ride home is silent. She saves her tears for bed when she curls in on his shoulder and dry heaves while telling him she feels like nothing ever seems to just go right for her. That her career would be too much an easy breezy fairytale if she didn’t get reprimanded for some simple mistakes her boss chastised her and belittled her for. Spending too much time in the bathroom, losing focus during meetings, coming back five minutes late from her breaks yawning nonstop.

Clark rubs her back and holds her tight, noticing just how much smaller she’s shrunk while his arms engulf her body. He kisses the top of her head and tells her she’s the most intelligent, most beautiful woman he’s ever known and it hurts to see her spiral into this much anguish. How the bags under her eyes got deeper, how her naps became even more frequent and much longer. Clark tells her to at the very least drink more water and has started filling up a glass for her bedside, hoping she stays hydrated after letting out all of those tears.

On one weekend they have their first intimate moment they’ve gotten together in weeks. Clark is on top, holding up most of his weight as to not crush her. Kisses down her neck, her jaw, grinding his eager cock into her thigh while she breathes and lazily holds onto him by his back, trailing her fingers down his spine. Letting him do the moving for them. She asked that he not turn on any lights when she stripped down her pajama pants and her panties, keeping that baggy shirt on that she never seems to take off while Clark shamelessly made himself fully bare in order to feel the warmth in the closeness of being skin to skin with her after what felt like so long. He was inside her for only a few minutes before she suddenly loses all consciousness in a hazy, malnourished exhaustion with her head falling to the side and her arms unfastening from his back and isn’t even capable of responding when he reacts, grabs her face, calls out her name.

Pulling himself out of her, he doesn’t stifle any of his panic or incoming tears as he grabs her face and strokes her hair. Raising his voice to wake her up somehow.

“Please, please baby, answer me. Wake up. Wake up. Am I gonna have to—“

Clark shuffles for his phone, still naked and petrified. She stirs and opens her eyes just before he finished dialing 911.

“What is going on with you? What just happened? Baby, you don’t just faint like that if nothing is wrong. I need to get some real help for you here.”

She blinks and still doesn’t seem to fully register his words or any of her surroundings. Clark runs to the kitchen and fills up a full glass of orange juice. Something to put in her growling stomach.

Thankfully, he watches her chug it down, eyes still half lidded. Clark is so nervous that she appeared too weak to even hold her own glass so he makes her sit up so he can hold it to her mouth for her. He quickly grabs a piece of bread and breaks it up into little pieces, placing them one at a time in her palm, watching her take the little bites and swallow them down. Knows immediately that going to work the next day was out of the question.

So he holds her hand, caresses the back of it with his thumb. Has another arm around her back and rocks her back and forth. And he carefully tells her again.

”Something’s wrong. And it’s… it’s only gotten worse. I know it has. I want you to talk to me, honey. Please. You’ve been hiding this too long. I wanna see the real you again.”

She’s quiet for a long time after that. Still stays wrapped up in the embrace, sipping the tea he also got up and made, nibbling on the orange that he peeled. Clark didn’t know what could have done it, what could have broke the dam she’d so carefully built up. But all the tears and the emotion finally get flushed out and break free.

A weak, raw sob wracks out of her throat. She muffles the rest of her noises in his chest while she gets his bare torso wet from her leaking eyes, whimpering and clawing at his shoulders while he holds her tight and pats her back. Closes his eyes and listens to her stuttering and slurring.

“I didn’t think you would even care. It’s just stupid. I swear I didn’t mean to get this bad. I’ve been such a bitch, pushing you further and further away…”

Clark shoots down her attempts at getting even more self destructive.

“No. No, don’t do that. That’s not fair to you. I can see what you’ve been dealing with. It would be hard for me to smile and act care free too if I was hurting the same way you have. You aren’t to blame. Okay? You aren’t.”

“But I’ve been a fucking asshole! I throw tantrums when you ask me how I am. I can’t look at myself. I can’t look you in the eye anymore. It’s been too much. Thought you’d just up and leave me already for how I’ve been acting lately.”

Clark listens while she lets it out. Vomits everything up that she’s held in and shoved down her own throat and swallowed up because every toxic thought had held that much power over her. It didn’t let her feel good or feel innocent for sneaking a fucking cupcake at a work party, or feel guilty for throwing food away that had stayed untouched for so long it grew mold. Or leaving Clark to eat all by himself and watch some random YouTube video on his phone as he ate, not even attempting to get up and knock on their shared bedroom door in fear that he’d be bugging her if he asked for her to keep him company.

Stepping on the scale they had shoved in the cabinets of their bathroom made her head spin and her hands tremble. Even if the outcome of all the skipped meals brought the result she’d hoped for it still made her sick to her stomach to look at any number. Checking the mirror over and over to see if her collarbones stuck out in a way that looked more appealing according to her warped standards. Held her breath and sucked everything in. Pressing in on her lower belly like that could somehow make it all just disappear.

Passed off any symptoms as being tired, stressed, overworked. Wondering if it stroked the voice in her head’s ego when Clark first started showing concern. In a twisted way she thought the attention meant it had to be working. She could stop all this when she wanted to, she just didn’t want to quit yet.

Clark has tears running down his cheeks too but he swipes them away before they roll down too far. Sniffles and keeps the soft, slow pace as he rocked her body back and forth. “I wouldn’t ever, ever leave you. Especially not when you’re in this much pain, when you need help…”

“I don’t want help, I just want a break from it all because I’m so tired. I can get better on my own. I know I can. I’m just taking it too far lately. Getting dizzy. Power bar could solve it. Maybe some of those famous morning buttery pancakes of yours too while you’re at it in the kitchen with that little apron I love seeing you in.”

The last ditch effort for some semblance of humor doesn’t fool Clark. He cups her face and leans in.

“You… you passed out while I was still inside you. You don’t eat any breakfast, you don’t eat the lunches I pack you, and I see the guilt written all over your face when you finally eat dinner. You can’t keep going like this. It’s going to kill you. You’ve already disappeared. I couldn’t live with myself if I watched you struggle and never so much as acknowledged it or tried to take care of you. Help you…. help you take better care of yourself.”

She bites down on her bottom lip hard, thinking that’s gonna do it to hold the remainder of her sobs in. All’s it does is make her choke on them. She reaches for him again and he accepts her embrace, cooing in her ear that she’s not alone and he’s always going to be there whenever she trips and falls and goes through her ups and downs.

He feeds her slowly while they turn on some trash reality TV to lighten all the brooding tension that fogged the space between them. He’s slow, doesn’t want to overwhelm her and force any more than she’s able to take. She confessed that she felt so empty it made her nauseous, so he had Tums on her bedside just in case all of the food became too much for her shrunken stomach to digest.

After she’s halfway done she taps out and holds her belly, with Clark praising her efforts and telling her she did such a good job. Later after a few episodes he grins and gets up to make them a shared cup of hot chocolate with a mountain of overflowing whipped cream swirled to the top. She laughs when Clark takes the first big gulp, getting a spot of white cream on his nose and kissing her right after. Transferring the mess onto her face in the process. She keeps giggling as she licks some off his tongue and his lips, and Clark sighs into her mouth and deepens the kiss. Hoping that every touch, every move communicated just how much he’s missed her, missed this intimacy. And not only the physical aspect of it. More specifically he missed the raw, undeniable vulnerability when finally getting to pull back the curtain and welcome whatever had been guarded behind it.

It wasn’t fixed overnight. It wasn’t one hard conversation that would alter all of her thinking back to prioritizing her health over the fierce need for control that had started to fester over time. Clark knows healing was gonna take time. Day by day was what he would always tell her, they just take it day by day, meal by meal.

Even if her breakfast was small, or if she doesn’t want solid food because it felt too heavy. To alleviate that he’d blend up a smoothie for the both of them out of some frozen strawberries, blueberries, banana, apple juice. Even if she just snacks on things nonstop throughout the day and then stuffs herself full for dinner all to fall asleep on their couch before he’s even finished doing the dishes. It was more than enough for Clark to see that she was trying.

And even when a tone deaf co-worker of theirs passes them by in the break room right as Clark was blowing on a hot bite of food for her before raising it up to her mouth. The co-worker feigns a gasp and has the nerve to say wow, who would’ve guessed that she actually eats. Clark shuts the comment down with a stern, infuriated shake of his head and comes straight to her defense after hearing the needless, presumptuous nature of a comment coming from a stranger that didn’t know how much courage it was taking his girlfriend to keep going like this.

It throws her off balance, sure, but she makes a choice to ignore the chatter and brush off the passive aggressive phrase thrown her way. That time she kept on eating almost out of spite, scraping the bowl clean after grabbing the spoon right out of Clark’s hands.

It was strenuous, rocky progress but it was progress nonetheless. He also throws their scale in the trash and takes the bag out on garbage day to ensure she doesn’t get tempted to step on it and let it define her entire day or disturb her peace of mind after reading whatever number that glows on the screen.

She still cries when it’s too much. In the slow, agonizing day by day process of recovery her body was changing more here and there and it was a lot for her to get up in the morning, stare in the mirror, put her clothes back on and go to work. But she tried, with little number of sick days taken off of work, and naps that took up her entire night sometimes. But Clark values her trying, and know she deserves her rest after the long battle she’s been fighting.

He still prepares her morning cup of coffee, gives her a muffin on the side to go with it. Tries not to make her feel like he’s staring when she chews, even if his eyes can’t help but glance over every few minutes and study her minuscule facial expressions with every swallow. Sometimes will still happily feed her by his own hand once she does fess up and admit she’s getting hungry. When she’s achy and tired during their morning car rides before the long day ahead of them, he reaches over and strokes her thigh with his palm. Holds onto her knee, repeatedly gushes about how proud he is to be by her side and watch her confidence and her sense of self slowly but surely bloom again back to what she used to effortlessly show to the world.

. . .

I wanted to approach this with caution and care :( mostly clark’s POV so a lot was him noticing, I love angst and sensitive topics like these to exercise my brain and broaden my writing, thank you thank you anon for this request:) I was so happy that someone took me up on some angstier writing - also I wanna disclose that if you’re struggling too to please please reach out to somebody that you trust and take slow baby steps everyday because you’re more than worth it and you deserve to love any and every bit of who you are and the body you’re living in!

I hope I did this idea even a speck of justice that it deserves cause I’ve wanted to write EDs for a long time, I’ve written only a similar type of thing dealing with body insecurity one other time with another character a year ago or so. I felt rusty but I was excited to get a request like this :)

but of course, the heart wants what it wants, and you both found yourselves getting particularly attached to each other. but after that night, the realization hit you both at the same time—you liked each other. you needed each other. more than just occasional quickies. you needed something real, meaningful.

things had been awkward since. you hadn’t hooked up. hadn’t had any rushed makeout sessions in that one janitor's closet that oddly always smelled like mustard in the back of the club. nothing. just clipped greetings in passing, stiff nods, weird glances. 

scott didn’t know if he was inadvertently avoiding you, or if you were inadvertently avoiding him. neither did you. but you did know that you didn’t like this feeling. you’d missed him so much. but still, you never found the strength to just talk to him.

then came tonight, which truly couldn’t have gone worse for you.

while you were getting ready at home, you’d spilled your foundation all over the place, which got all over your clothes and your desk. it took obnoxiously long to clean everything up, find a change of clothes, and keep going with your makeup with only the little bit of foundation you’d managed to save. you were debating on calling out sick, but that meant calling scott. and you really didn’t want to talk to scott right now.

so, you’d shown up particularly late, rushing to the dressing room to quickly freshen up, and then head out to work the floor first since all the poles were taken. 

it was a particularly busy night, which usually would’ve gone well for someone who was so skilled at working the floor and draining pockets like yourself, but for some reason tonight was the night that every single girl came in. not a single one not working.

that made it hard for you to get anything done. just one stupid lap dance, one set on the pole, and then your shift was over, barely any tips made thanks to the oversaturation of girls. scott, of course, was watching the entire time. most of the time he spent in his office, he spent staring into the security cameras, and he just couldn’t help but stare at you. keeping you safe. ready to step in and kick some perv out if needed.

once your shift was over, you were quick to get changed, scrub your makeup off, and head home, but your ride—another stripper, mandy—was working overtime and wasn’t leaving for another two hours. coincidentally, scott was leaving at the same time as the other manager came in for his shift. 

you weighed out your options. 

one: wait another two hours for mandy to finish. it was already three in the morning, your phone was about to die, you forgot your charger at home, and you were hungry. not an option. 

two: pay for an uber. in this busy part of town to get where you lived, it would’ve been a hefty price, one you really didn’t want to pay. but if you really had to, it wouldn’t be the end of the world. 

three: walk. nope. too dangerous. you lived miles out. you couldn’t walk all that, alone, in slides, at this time.

four: just ask scott for a ride. he’d do it in a heartbeat, get you some food, let you use his charger, not make you pay him anything, and maybe you’d end the night with some dick.

well, that’s how it would usually go. now, there were feelings involved—gross. feelings you didn’t want to confront. feelings scott didn’t want to confront. then again, though, you were an adult. scott was an adult. surely, he wouldn’t act like a stuttering, awkward teenage boy if you asked him for a ride after you gave him a blowjob so good it made him want to marry you despite insisting you keep things casual…right?

your feet moved before your mind even registered it, bringing you right to his office. knocking on the door, scott immediately looked over his shoulder, clearing his throat at the sight of you.

“hey,” he said, wiping his hands on his pants as he turned in his chair to face you. “i’m just uh.. finishing up real quick, i’m on my way out so.. whatever you want, make it quick.”

you bit back a scoff at that. make it quick. it was almost funny, how hard he was trying to make it seem like he didn’t care, and how hard he was failing. you wanted to make a snarky comment, call his bluff, tease him, but you didn’t. distance and all that. you just got right to the point.

“i need a ride home. mandy’s not getting out for another two hours and i can’t wait.”

scott hesitated. never in the countless times that you asked him for a ride has he ever hesitated. 

“scott.”

“no, yeah, i heard you.”

“so?”

“uh… sure, yeah, no problem. here, go heat it up for me,” he sighed, reaching into his pocket and handing you the keys to his truck, not making eye contact with you.

you didn’t say anything else, just headed out to that pristine white truck that scott drove, parked out back.

he didn’t take long to come out and settle into the driver's seat. he didn’t say a word as he pulled out of the parking lot and onto the street, driving the familiar route to your place. 

there was a tense silence in the truck for a good ten minutes, before scott spoke up. “you hungry?”

“no.”

as soon as you said it, your traitorous stomach grumbled. scott didn’t want to argue further, making his decision.

“i’m getting you something to eat.”

“i can feed myself, scott.”

“it’s four in the morning. the last time you tried cooking for yourself at this time, you fell asleep with the stove on and nearby burned your entire apartment building down. let me get you something on the way.”

you left it at that, not protesting further. the entire time, neither of you found it in you to look at each other, not even for a second of eye contact. 

he pulled into the drive-thru of the same 24-hour burger place he knew you loved so much, ordering your usual burger with a large fry and a milkshake of your choosing. he knew how much your work tired you out, it was the least he could do.

you ate in silence as he parked in the empty parking lot, only murmuring out a “thanks” when he handed it to you. scott tried to act like he was busy and not at all focused on you, scrolling through messages he’d already opened, pretending to text back, even scrolling through his weather app as if it were the most entertaining piece of media he could find.

the tension just got to a point where you couldn’t stand it anymore. through bites of your burger, you spoke up. “we should probably talk about it.” 

“about what?” scott said, clearing his throat.

“scott.”

a beat.

“what is there to talk about?” scott eventually sighed.

“are you fucking serious?”

“what?”

“you’ve been weird ever since that night! you haven’t called, you haven’t texted, haven’t offered me any rides home. you’ve been avoiding me like the plague!” you huff, setting your burger down and turning in the seat to face him properly.

“me? i’ve been weird? you’ve been the one avoiding me.”

“no, i haven’t!”

“yes, you have.”

“you’re such a fucking child, scott, jesus fucking christ.”

you sit in silence for a moment, turning back to stare out of the window and not at him.

“did i do something?” you finally whisper.

“what?”

“that night. did i do something wrong? we had sex and then you got all… weird. it was after that that you started avoiding me. did i like… use teeth or something? am i that bad at sucking dick that you cut me off?” you tried to make it sound humorous, lighten the mood, but scott didn’t laugh.

his fingers tapped against the steering wheel, his jaw clacked incessantly with the chewing of his gum. tense. awkward. annoying.

“no. you didn’t do anything wrong. you could never do anything wrong,” scott finally whispered, glancing at you though his peripheral. 

“then what was it?”

scott swallowed thickly. he was never a man to confront his feelings straight up. he was the type to just push, push, push them all the way down until they eventually dissipated. but he couldn’t do that anymore. not with you. he thought for a moment, not out of hesitance, just trying to find the right words.

“i don’t know, i just… i felt something that night. all this time, i told myself that i’m not a relationship kind of guy. i do stupid things like this, pushing someone that makes me feel good away. why? i don’t even know myself. maybe protection. protecting my feelings, protecting you from myself… i don’t know what exactly. i know that this entire time, i’ve been telling you that what we have is casual, no feelings… but you just do something to me, i can’t control it.”

scott stared straight ahead as he spoke. he couldn’t look at you. not yet. you just stared at your lap, soaking it all in, letting him get it all out. 

“i look at you, and i feel all buzzy inside. i can’t stop it as my brain begins to wander. i start thinking about you outside of just work, just hookups in my truck. envisioning a life with you. seeing something real with you. i guess it all just… crushed down on me that night. it scared me. not being able to detach myself emotionally. it was so overwhelming, but i guess that’s what love is, isn’t it? an overwhelming, unstoppable feeling.”

“are you saying you love me?” you softly chuckle, finally giving him a small smile as you look up at him. “take me out to dinner first, at least.”

that got a chuckle out of scott. a genuine chuckle that made his chest rumble and the tips of his ears go pink.

“maybe i am. the early stages of it, at least. i didn’t know what to do with that feeling. distance was just the easiest thing. but hey, you’re not exactly innocent either. you also went cold.”

“well, you can’t exactly blame me. you wouldn’t even make eye contact with me. i didn’t want to chase you if you weren’t willing. i didn’t want to waste my time.”

“i’m ready, though,” scott whispered, finally glancing over at you. “now. i want to be there for you. i want to be with you. i mean… if you want that, of course. do you? want that, i mean?”

scott swallowed thickly, hating how vulnerable and pathetic he sounded. the last thing he wanted was to pour his heart and soul out to you, just for you to say something along the lines of “thanks, but i only see you as a friend.”

your silence didn’t help the situation. but eventually, you spoke up.

“hr is gonna lose their shit…”

“is that a yes?” he sounded embarrassingly hopeful. but you found it cute.

you blushed at the idea. dating was hard for a stripper. a lot of jealousy, possessiveness, slut-shaming had made you sort of turn away from the idea of dating all together, which is what landed you in this so-called “casual” relationship with scott.

by now, your burger and fries sat cold, your milkshake all melted, but you paid it no mind. if anything, scott would just go buy you more. the gentleman he was.

and even if he weren’t technically your superior at work, he didn’t judge you for your work. he never pushed you to quit. never made any comments on your character. never got jealous, not really. he didn’t feel any competition with the middle aged, balding, beer belly regular named charles that had a wife and three kids at home who could only tip singles and had a fondness for you.

he trusted you. 

“this is gonna cause a lot of problems at work, scotty…”

“no one needs to know…”

“people are totally gonna notice. i think mandy and kitty already caught on to us fucking,” you chuckle softly, looking up at him with a small smile.

“well, if hr finds out, busts my ass, and fires me for it, it’d be worth it. there are plenty of other seasonal jobs. i don’t care. i just want you. if you’ll have me—”

you barely let him finish his sentence before cutting him off with a kiss. scott was quick to reciprocate, his hands closing around your waist and pulling you close to him. 

“i’ll take that as a yes, then?” he whispered softly, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth, then down your jaw. never have you ever seen scott so soft. he was always rough with his kisses. all teeth and tongue. hands groping and tugging. but not now. not anymore.

“yes,” you breathed out, tilting his head up with your hand under his chin and pressing your lips to his again. you were both tempted to crawl into the backseat like you always did, but you wanted something special. something different. you weren’t just a casual hookup anymore, after all, he couldn’t treat you like one.

so, scott was quick to drive back to your place. he acted all chivalrous, throwing out your trash for you, holding doors open, helping you out of the truck, carrying your bag in one hand and holding your hand in the other. you could barely contain yourselves once you got alone, immediately dragging him to the bedroom. he’d only been in your apartment a handful of times, never thought much of it. but now, he took it all in—well, as much as he could as you rushed to take him to bed.

it was all so you. you had three bedrooms—one designated for yourself, another room totally designated for your cat which you treated like your daughter, and another room you had renovated with mirrors lining the wall and a pole installed to practice in. it was also so clean. it smelled like vanilla and a hint of pumpkin, your scent, the scent he admired so much, the scent he was even starting to dream about.

“come on, don’t get all distracted on me,” you chuckle as you notice scott's eyes wandering your room. you shut the door behind you, locking it—your cat had somehow found out how to open doors, you didn’t want to traumatize her—before turning back to scott. his focus was back on you entirely, his arms wrapping around your back and hoisting you up into the air as your lips smashed against his. he was gentle as he set you down on the bed. he was even gentler as he undressed you, kissing every inch of skin as he pulled your clothes down. it did a good job in getting you all worked up, because by the time he got to pulling your panties off, you were soaking wet.

“so pretty,” scott murmured, not even realizing it, as he leaned down and settled between your legs. he kissed around your thighs, warming you up, before sealing his lips around your clit. he moaned against your pussy, having missed the taste so much over these past three weeks. your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging and guiding his head. 

“yeah, scotty, like that,” you moaned out, clamping a hand over your mouth. the last thing you needed was a noise complaint from your neighbors at 4 in the morning. scott worked diligently on your pussy, having two fingers thrusting in and out of you so he could focus his mouth on your clit. he felt your thighs start to tighten and tremble around his head, and he pulled back before you could cum.

“you asshole, not fair,” you whine with a chuckle. “patience, baby,” scott whispered, a small smile on his face as he quickly undressed. he was rock hard by now, not bothering with a condom as he settled between your legs once again. your fingers wrapped around his shoulders, anchoring yourself as scott slowly pushed inside you, one hand on your stomach, the other on your waist. before you could moan too loud, he leaned down, pressing his lips to yours and swallowing your noises. he pushed in slowly, working you open and giving you a moment to adjust as he filled you up. your legs were tight around his back, keeping him as close as possible to you.

“come on, i can take it,” you whispered against his lips with a wide, genuine smile. that was all scott needed to hear. his forearms braced on either side of your head, his forehead pressed to yours and his eyes not leaving you for a single moment as he started to thrust in and out, nice and slow. he let out little grunts and puffs of air against your lips, using all his will and might to restrain himself from just fucking the shit out of you. but tonight wasn’t that kind of night. 

“you feel amazing, baby, so perfect, all for me,” he grunted, pressing his lips to your cheek as he picked up the pace a little bit.

“uh-huh, and you feel perfect for me, so big, filling me all the way up, hitting all the right spots–” you moan, your fingers trailing down to his biceps, your long, sharp stiletto nails digging into his skin.

scott trailed one hand down in between your legs, hitting your clit dead-on and rubbing nice, tight circles on it. his lips found yours once again, the both of you swallowing each other whole, groaning and moaning against each other. his dick was so thick, curved just right, rubbing against all the right spots in you, making you see stars. 

you were so tight around him, too, squeezing and pulsing around him in time with his thrusts. your bodies meshed perfectly together, truly as if you were made solely for each other. soon enough, you both came at the same time. you gushed around scott, getting the mess all over your thighs, his stomach, and the sheets below you, and he spilled deeply inside of you. you couldn’t even speak, just whine and moan against his lips, holding onto him like he would disappear if you let go.

the entire time, he softly spoke you through it—”i’m here,” “that’s it, let it all out, beautiful.” scott gradually slowed down until he fully stopped, waiting until he got the greenlight from you to pull out. once he did, he moved in a blur around your apartment—finding towels, cleaning you up, getting water, quickly changing your sheets and tossing the wet ones into the washer, before he settled in with you.

for a while, neither of you spoke. you just laid together, his chest to your back as you laid on your side, tucked against him. he assumed you fell asleep, his mind beginning to wander, but you broke him out of it as you spoke up. 

“i guess this means we’re boyfriend-girlfriend now.”

“i guess so…” scott turned his head to the side, his nose nudging your jaw as he placed his lips to your neck from behind. “let me take you out. all official and stuff. a nice dinner or something.”

“oh, how romantic,” you softly chuckle, turning your head and pecking his lips with yours. 

“you make me romantic,” he murmurs against your lips. 

“...i would like that,” you finally respond, smiling against his lips. “a nice dinner. tomorrow… or i guess, tonight,” you chuckle, glancing past scott and squinting at the analog clock on your bedside table, the red numbers screaming “4:57” at you.

“tonight, then. i’ll take you out tonight. you just get your rest now, yeah?” he whispered, pressing a final kiss to your lips before relaxing behind you. his nose was buried in your hair, breathing you in.

he felt something inside him settle. something he didn’t know was missing in his life, found in you. scott miller. changed from a fuckboy, able to fuck a girl and move onto the next, to a sappy, sentimental boyfriend. he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Clark just shook his head. “You’re not as quiet as you think you are.”

“And you’re oblivious.” Jimmy glanced up as Cat came by, making a beeline for the coffee pot. “Hey, Cat. You’ve got a knack for gossip and office romance. Back me up, here.”

“About what?” She raised a brow, suddenly interested.

“Clark and his little admirer,” Jimmy stated, wiggling his brows as he nodded to the girl currently talking with Perry across the room. “She totally has a crush on him.”

Cat smiled deviously. “Crush is putting it in very tame terms. Clark, given the chance, she’d be crawling all over you.”

Clark stammered, cheeks going pink as he dismissed the idea. There was no way. She was pretty and put together and… there was no way.

He got through the day with his thoughts swirling. They grew even more insistent every time she talked to him or looked at him or was in his general vicinity. Her perfume lingered in his nose, drawing him in like a siren song. He was pathetic and he knew it.

To make matters worse, she’d called him over for help in a cramped file room.

“Sorry, I tried myself but it’s way too high up,” she said softly, looking at him. She was trying to grab an old file from an article about an ice cream shop that had been around for ages, and was now on the brink of closing. “I really need it for my piece. I’m hoping if we draw some attention, they’ll get the sales boost they need to stay afloat. Unfortunately, I am not a 6’5 giant like you.”

“6’4, actually,” he murmured quietly. “It’s nice though. That you want to help them. You’re always so kind.”

“Gee, way to butter a girl up,” she replied with a chuckle. His cheeks flushed again. She pointed up at a box on the top shelf, reaching up on her tiptoes. “This one right here.”

“Got it.” He nodded diligently.

He reached up, expecting her to move out of the way, but she just stood there. Squished between his body and the shelf. He mumbled out an apology as he grabbed the box, pulling it off the shelf. He tried like hell not to let her notice how flustered he was at the contact, her back against his chest. It felt perfect. Too perfect. He ignored the way his cock jumped to life, trying to will it to go back down before it created an embarrassing bulge in the front of his slacks.

“Here it is. W-want it on your desk?”

“Huh?” Her eyes went wide. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say she looked a little flustered. “Oh. Oh, the box. Yeah, yes. On my desk is fine. Thank you, Clark.”

He just smiled a little, taking in a deep breath. Gosh, she smelled good. He breathed in again as she moved to get around him, but this time he caught a whiff of something else under her perfume. Like her skin, but more… more. Something that guaranteed he’d have to be taking a trip to the restroom very soon if he didn’t want to make a fool of himself. Thank goodness for the box he could hold in front of his hips.

Was she… aroused?

He let his eyes scan over her, taking it all in as he walked with her to his desk. Her heart beat a little faster, she definitely looked a little bit nervous, her eyes went a little darker, and that smell… Oh boy.

Clark set the box down at her desk, promptly excusing himself from the situation and her pretty eyes looking up at him.

It was a good ten minutes later before he was sinking into his chair again, staring at his computer.

“Long bathroom break, Clark,” Jimmy commented with a short laugh.

Clark nodded curtly. “Yeah. Yeah… I, uh… I’m gonna ask her out.”

Jimmy just stared, taken aback by the sudden change in his tune.

“Any reason why you changed your mind so fast?”

“Just… sensed a change.”

——————————

"What is it, babe?" You moved back slightly when you felt him halt his movements.

"I'm really sorry to interrupt our..." He paused to clear his throat and subtly look between you two. "Generally speaking, our clothes are not made out of metal, right?" He finished his sentence, eyes squinting at your shirt as if trying to make something out.

"Yeah? Although, if its fast fashion we're talking about, I'm not entirely surprised if they add mercury into our clothes," You joked, looking down briefly to your shirt to see if there was anything out of place.

"Why the question? One of your conspiracy theories?" You chuckled at your boyfriend's sudden interest at the topic in hand. Eager to resume your earlier actions, you placed your hands onto his broad chest — fingers lightly playing with the front of his dress shirt.

"It's not a conspiracy when its true," He replied, nose flaring. Before you could react, his fingers found the hem of your shirt. You let out a startled yelp when he swiftly removed them.

"What the— Why'd you take my shirt?" You frowned, hugging your upper body out of instinct when the cool air met your skin. "And where are you going, mister?"

There was a fleeting silence as Clark disappeared into your shared room. You huffed, confused why your boyfriend was acting oddly all of a sudden. Not long later, a faint rustling could be heard — resulting your eyebrow to shoot up. A sigh left you before you joined your boyfriend and headed to the room.

"Sorry, baby. Need to check on something," He murmured in reply while taking out one of your much older clothes from the wardrobe.

"So...?" A hand went to your hips as you patiently waited for his answer, standing just a few feet away from him.

"You need to stop buying from whichever shop these clothes come from," He firmly said, glancing up briefly before removing all new clothes you bought recently out of the wardrobe.

"Okay, you're starting to freak me out. Talk to me," You walked over to softly massage his shoulders while he was still kneeled on the floor.

"I am sure you are aware of my impeccable eyesight " He started off, earning an amused snort from you.

"Okay and...?"

"What I'm trying to say is that, the only reason why my X-ray vision didn't work while I-" He cleared his throat, catching himself before accidentally exposing himself. "It's not working as well after seeing your clothes which could only mean one thing."

You mouth went ajar when the pieces of the puzzle finally fit. Your flicked your finger onto his forehead when you caught on to what he initially used his powers for.

"First of all, that's very perverted of you." You stated with a playful scowl. "Secondly, you could propose the idea to your editor. Go deep dive and expose the industry!"

"I- Wow- Did not expect that coming out of you," He chuckled, lips now curled upwards as he gently rubbed his forehead to soothe the spot you just flicked.

"Oh honeyyy..." You drawl out the term of endearment used. "Have I never told you how much my friends and I would literally get side track on our conversation and do an extensive search on a random niche topic that piqued our interest?"

And that was how the pair of you ended up spending the rest of the night — cozy in bed while researching whether there were actual reported cases of lead found in clothing.

taglist: @starr-jazz, @kryptidfiles