meh bleh

you don’t even get a hello before clark’s got his lips on yours.

he’d barely shut the front door before he was on you—lifting you off your feet with a soundless grunt, kissing you so deeply you forgot your own name. the door didn’t close all the way. his glasses are still on. his shirt’s still half-tucked from wherever he came back from. and he doesn’t seem to care.

his mouth trails down your neck, hot and shaky. he doesn’t talk yet, but you can feel it in his grip—he’s tense. wired. too quiet. the kind of quiet that comes after something bad.

you wrap your arms around his shoulders, and he exhales hard—like just touching you let him breathe again.

“bad day?” you murmur, brushing your lips against his temple.

he just nods. silently carries you to the bedroom like his life depends on it. like he needs you right now more than air.

then?

he lays you down.

tugs your clothes off like he’s being careful, but still rushing. his hands shake when he lines himself up, and he looks down at you like he’s asking for forgiveness before he’s even started.

“sorry if i’m bein’ selfish, sweetheart,” he says softly, cupping the underside of your knee and pushing it up toward your chest. “i promise i’ll take care of you after. i just—i really need you right now.”

and then he sinks into you.

you gasp. every time you think you’ve adjusted to his size, you forget—he’s massive. too big. stretches you so wide you feel the outline of him in your belly. but the worst part is that he doesn’t stop. he keeps going, keeps pushing your legs up, folding you into a mating press as his hips press flush against yours, cock buried to the hilt.

“oh gosh,” he breathes, jaw trembling. “you’re just so warm. so perfect. always take me so well…”

you can’t even respond—just whimper and arch into him, and he starts moving.

deep, dragging thrusts that shake the bedframe. his grip is vice-tight on the back of your thighs, his broad chest pressing your knees to your shoulders, sweat already starting to bead at his temple. and then—finally—he talks.

“this guy… this absolute jerk thought he could take down a whole city block,” he grits out, still speaking like he’s complaining to a friend, not while pounding your cunt like it owes him rent. “flung a taxi at a daycare, would you believe that? and people think i’m too soft when i hold back—golly…”

he punctuates the word with a sharp thrust, making your toes curl.

“so i didn’t. i didn’t hold back this time, i—I really gave it to him, you know? but then lex starts in with his ‘oh superman, you’re a danger to society’ speech and—good grief, darlin’, you’re squeezin’ me so tight—”

your fingers dig into his biceps as he fucks you harder, angling his hips just right to grind against your sweet spot. your eyes roll. your thighs shake. and clark—poor sweet clark—is too in his head to realize he’s fucking the soul out of you while venting about his commute.

“i was just tryin’ to help. like i always do. and people still looked at me like i’m some kinda monster, but then i come home and—and you let me do this, and—and god, baby—you always make me feel human.”

you can’t breathe. can’t think. your hands are scrabbling at his back, legs trembling in his grip, and he’s just moaning softly into your neck now, whispering sweet nothings while his cock splits you open.

“m’sorry, sugar,” he mumbles as your eyes roll back, pace never faltering. “didn’t mean to go this hard—just… needed to feel close to you. needed to feel good. you always make me feel good, angel.”

you’re gonna cry. he’s so deep you feel like you’re gonna pass out, and he doesn’t even realize he’s got you halfway to god while still talking like a 1940s housewife.

you try to tell him you’re close, but it comes out as a breathless sob. clark pulls back to look at you—sees the tears, the shaky mouth, the way your body’s convulsing beneath him—and his expression softens, even while his cock’s still grinding into your cervix like a battering ram.

“oh gosh,” he whispers, instantly panicked. “did i hurt you? are you—darlin’, are you okay? i didn’t even notice how hard i was goin’, i’m so sorry—”

you cling to him, voice wrecked.

“clark—don’t stop. please, don’t stop—just wanna cum—”

he exhales like you just saved his life. kisses your temple. then fucks you so deep you see stars.

your orgasm hits like a tidal wave—loud, messy, devastating. clark groans your name like a prayer and finishes seconds later, cock twitching inside you as he fills you to the brim, thick and hot and so much that it leaks out around his base, dripping onto the sheets in warm streaks.

and when it’s over, when your body’s gone limp and your breathing is ragged and you feel like you’ve been hit by a train (a hot, kansas-born train), clark gathers you up like you’re something precious. kisses your hair. wraps you in a blanket and tucks you under his chin like nothing happened.

“gosh, you’re good to me,” he murmurs. “can’t believe you put up with me when i get like that.”

you smile weakly, snuggled against his chest, still full of him.

“you can be rough with me anytime, clark. just… maybe warn me first so i'm prepared to see heaven again.”

he chuckles, sheepish.