ali!

"should i get it cut?" he offers, cheeks pressed against his pillow.

your ministrations stills, "hmm. dunno." you answer honestly, pulling at the curled edges to make them stick out more. "it's sort of…hot. gives you a dishevelled…rugged look." you lower yourself, resting your cheeks onto his traps.

"…"

his arm wraps around your lower back. and with a swift movement, you feel your vision tilt as he plops you beneath him. "ack!" you gasp, steadying a palm by his thick bicep, which he flexes, for your enjoyment.

clark shuffles to cage you in his arms, favouring his weight with his left forearm. one side of his head is visibly styled out in a messy swoop from where you were combing through. though a shorter, unruly strand curls past his forehead.

"i'm not sure if it's good for the hero image. to look unkempt," he ponders seriously, palms pressed against his cheeks as he lays on his side.

you blink up at him. still thrown by the sudden adjustment."…i'm just saying." your knuckles graze past the stray lock, melting into him, with a thigh draped along his ribs. "i like you like this. softer. just f'me." your words trail into murmurs, but he catches them anyway.

the dimples, deep in his cheeks makes themselves known first, and he lets out a huff, sizing you with a dopey smile. "that so?" clark leans on, pressing a kiss to the sensitive spot below your ears. the first peck tickles you, with his messy hair brushing past your ears. "hahah. hey! that tickles." you groan, catching a brief glimpse of his blurred, dark locks," geez…like some…wild beast."

"hmm. make up your mind," he rumbles, trailing teasing kisses past your collarbone, to your sternum. clark lifts his head up, eyes glinting in wanton adoration for you. "am i a beast, or some cool…hip dude?"

you stare at him, in mild disgust. "cool hip dude? nevermind. you can never be rugged."

he nips at your wrist when it comes to rest at the back of his head. "ow!" you yelp, shooting him a displeased look. clark just laughs, replacing the sting with a chaste peck. he guides your hand to the back of his head, as though encouraging you to keep it there.

"got your verdict yet?" the shift in the playfulness is subtle as he makes his way down your midsection. pressing another breathy kiss beneath your breasts to your navel. your eyes don't leave him, and neither does your idle palm, half-vanished in his curls.

before you can think to answer, clark lifts your hips up for a second to slide your sleep shorts down. keeping his gaze locked on yours as he presses his lips to your inner thighs.

you swallow the shudder that threatened to give away your building arousal, hands imperceptibly tightening where it was once lax.