you keep me in your orbit

"How many times have I called you at ungodly hours for the same reasons? Deadline or disaster? Have you ever held it against me?" Was his counter, and before you replied with a deadpanned, "Actually, Clark, now that you bring it up..." He hurried on before you could finish.

He was A Man. A grown man who could survive five nights without making sweet, sweet passionate love to you.You needed to focus and rest, and he'd wait centuries to have your undivided attention if that was what loving you required. Fortunately, it was only until the weekend.

"I miss you, but most of all, I love you, sweetheart. It's fine!" All of this was said with his free hand locked around his knee, blunt nails pressing hard enough to leave pale crescents in the skin while he tried to force himself into believing it too.

But everyone knew the unspoken rule: anyone who said "it's fine!" that cheerful were liars.

.

The tension finally boiled over the second Clark stepped through his front door the following evening. He carelessly tossed his glasses and phone on his bedside table, pressed a fist to his mouth, and released a sigh heavy enough to empty his lungs.

Was it pathetic to be half-hard and aching just from missing you this badly? Or was that devotion? Yearning? Or, as Steve would undoubtedly tease with that little smirk, "whipped?"

Speaking of – Clark tugged his belt loose in a sharp tug. Dress shirt buttons followed. Zipper. Slacks shoved down his thighs, until he's whipping his cock from the confines of his slacks with a shaky, relieved sigh. The cool apartment air did nothing to help soothe the heat coursing through him.

If anything, fredom made the weight of his need more worse. The heavy pulse, the glossy bead already gathering at the slit, the way his length kicked against his stomach as though reaching for a body that wasn’t there.

He tried the cold shower first. Sensible, right? Stood under the icy spray, willing the rut to settle, willing his body to behave like the grown man he kept insisting he was. He rifled through unsexy thoughts: taxes, Perry's editorial calendar, the tamales Ma and Pa raved about when he last spoke to them.

Ninety seconds later, water was streaming over his closed eyes while every drop slipping down his chest became your fingers. Your palms spreading over his stomach. Your nails scratching lightly through the dark trail beneath his navel. Your warm mouth chasing the water lower, lower, until your knees struck tile and that pretty, wicked smile curved against the base of his cock.

He nearly broke the shower handle off with a frustrated growl, cock still brutally stiff between his legs, skin flushed crimson despite the chill.

In his haze, Clark climbed into the empty bed nude, triggering another cruel wave of reminders. Cold sheets welcomed him instead of your legs. Silence settled where your sleepy chatter should have been. No warm body curled beneath his arm. No soft complaint when he crowded too close. No hand wandering beneath waistbands because neither of you had ever been particularly convincing when pretending you only wanted to cuddle.

He stretched out across the sheets until his face buried into your pillow, inhaling the lingering scent of your shampoo, your shower gel, your favorite perfume dabbed behind your ear, you, you, you.

The scents went straight to his cock, and the urge hit like a meteor. With a pained whimper, Clark rolled onto his stomach and pressed his stiff, leaking member against the expensive sheets you bought when you first started spending the night.

Eight-hundred thread count, you’d told him proudly.

He wondered whether they were supposed to survive a sexually frustrated Kryptonian. Probably not.

.

The grinding began slowly, desperately, and experimental. Pleasure washed over him. Again, harder. Soon, wet smears marked every thrust, the motion creating a delicious friction against his sensitive tip, sharp enough to make his breath hitch.

Soon, slow wasn’t nearly enough to scratch that impossible itch.

His hips moved harder, faster, each desperate thrust leaving another damp streak across the fabric. His fists twisted into the sheets on either side of his head until the tendons rose along his wrists and the linen began to fray between his fingers. His tongue rested wetly against his bottom lip as he panted into your pillow, groaning each time his hips pressed down and the fabric dragged tightly along the underside of his cock.

The sounds spilling from him were embarrassingly primitive.

Low grunts. Broken breaths. A needy whine he would deny even under Kryptonite.

Eventually, they all melted into the only coherent thing he could say: your name.

Your name, muffled, over and over while your Clark humped the mattress in a poor attempt to fuck the fantasy of you out of his system. Bless his heart, it wasn't working.

If anything, it sharpened his hazy imagination into vivid, filthy focus. Your weight settling over him, knees planted wide on either side of his head, as you leaned forward in that sixty-nine position you’d joked about one too many times to make him suspect something.

You'd take his cock in hand with a slow stroke, press a kiss at the tip, stretching and hollowing your mouth around him until your nose brushed the heavy weight of his balls when you forced yourself deeper.

From underneath, he’d have the perfect view.

The generous curve of your plump ass hovered over his face. The delicate slope of your back arched deeper. The soft underside of your thighs framing his face while you lowered your core onto his mouth, already wet enough to leave a shining streak across his lips. His thumbs would dig into the soft flesh to keep you from clamping shut around his head while he buried his face between your legs. He would lick you messy, broad stripes through your puffy folds, sucking your clit until your hips bucked against his smothering mouth, then push his tongue into your dripping hole while the tip of his cock bruised the back of your throat.

You’d happily choke around his cock a little. The tight spasm of your throat wound squeeze the head.

Let your saliva spill down his shaft in warm, messy trails until it gathered along his happy trail, and he’d moan directly into your pussy,

"She's beautiful from this angle."

"She tastes so sweet."

"Shd clenched perfectly around my tongue just now. Please, sweetheart, please have Her do it again?"

Golly, Clark’s hips jerked hard enough to shove the mattress and frame several inches across the floor.

Continuing his fantasy, he would then coo about filling Her up so full, until She was overflowing with his come, until you were marked as his inside and out. At the same time, your mouth worked his cock with wet, sloppy determination, swallowing until your throat refused and pulling back with strings of spit still connecting your lips to the swollen tip.

He’d imagine you pulling off long enough to look over your shoulder, glassy-eyed and breathless, begging in a raspy voice to breed you, baby, put every drop where it belongs with his cum already on your tongue before he’d realize even giving it to you.

That scenario had Clark rutting faster, the bed creaking, squeaking, shifting under his barely-contained strength. His eyes suddenly flared hot with unrestrained heat vision, twin red beams scorching pinpoints through the mattress and most likely the floorboards before squeezing them shut.

Precum soaked a dark, sticky patch into the sheets beneath his cock, and his lower abdomen made every grind slick. A dark lock of hair clung to his forehead. His drool made the pillow damp against his cheek, and still.

Still, he couldn’t stop whining your name, couldn’t stop chasing the phantom sensation of your body molded along on his torso, and your slick coating his chin and dripping down his neck

Take him deeper. Sit down harder. Use his mouth.

Somehow, the fantasy deepened.

He’d pull you from his face and roll you beneath him before you finished. Your legs would be spread around his hips, knees pressed to your breasts while he lined himself up and pushed inside. He could almost feel you wet and hot around him. So, so tight after days apart that the first stroke would make both of you shake.

His mouth would cover yours while he fucked you open, tasting himself on your tongue and you on his lips. Every thrust would drive your body higher against the bed. Every needy sound you made would disappear into his mouth while the headboard struck the wall in a rhythm the neighbors could never mistake for anything else.

Mine. The word slid into the fantasy with frightening ease. My sweetheart. My girl. My perfect, exhausted Love

Spread beneath him and finally too ruined to think about anything else. Clark pictured his hand closing around your jaw, thumb slipping between your lips as he told you exactly what he intended to do.

Fill you, and keep filling you. Have my fingers gather my spend from your thighs and push it back deep before it tried to leak out again.

No matter how many times he admired the image of white from your swollen pussy, he groaned so loudly the windows trembled.

Gosh, how he wanted to breed you properly. To pin your hips down and fill you before the first load had stopped leaking.

Wanted your thighs sticky, your belly wet, the sheets beneath you soaked with both of you.

Wanted your voice exhausted because of him instead of work.

Until it stuck...or didn't.

The thought should have slowed him. Instead, it made his balls draw tight.

Did he want to watch your body change because of him? Did you? Or was this simply the rut talking? Some ugly, instinctive Kryptonian corner of him desperate to erase five lonely nights by marking you so thoroughly that even distance couldn’t make him doubt where he belonged—

With a mix of relief and disappointment, Clark came hard with a harsh cry of your name, hips jerking in short, punishing bursts as thick ropes of his spend spilled out onto the warm linen. More followed with each weakening thrust, hot come smearing along his cock and stomach as he continued to grind through the oversensitive aftershocks.

The orgasm left him shaking, heaving, and glazed in a cold sweat, drool still slick on his lips. His lips started to tingle from the real possibility of having you exactly like this on the weekend, letting him ruin you the same way he ruined these damn nice sheets, just more.

His spent cock give a weak, hopeful twitch.

.

The phone rang and Clark startled violently, eyes flying open as your name and that soft, smiling contact photo he’d taken one sleepy Sunday morning lit up the screen.

"Ahh, shoot!"

He fumbled for it, one frantic reach nearly sending the phone skidding off the table. He caught it on the second attempt and pressed it to his ear, swallowing against a throat gone dry, and breathing remained uneven.

Your suspicion came through the line immediately after his greeting."You sound funny. Everything okay?"

"Yeah—no, I’m fine." His voice cracked around the age-old lie. Clark cleared his throat, forcing something painfully casual into it. "Everything’s fine. Just… Superman duties, you know how it is. Tell me about your day."

You hummed, unconvinced, but too exhausted to press him. Instead, you continued talking, your voice low and worn-soft through the receiver, each affectionate little pause slipping beneath his skin. You told him about work, about a coworker who had nearly driven you insane, about the lunch you had forgotten to eat until far too late.

Clark listened, asked the right questions, and made the appropriate sympathetic noises between pauses. Guilt tightened his chest when you asked about his day, speaking to him in that drowsy voice you usually reserved for the minutes before falling asleep against his chest.

Unfortunately, another part of him remained painfully aware that you were lying in bed somewhere else. Perhaps wearing one of his old shirts you now claimed as yours. Perhaps curled on your side with bare thighs brushing together beneath the hem, touching the place where his body usually pressed against yours and missing him badly enough to ache too.

Clark knew better than to let his thoughts wander again, but then you called him baby once more.

His cock twitched against the cooling, sticky mess, then again. The spent length began to stiffen beneath his stomach, dragging slowly through his own come as blood rushed back into it.

Clark squeezed his eyes shut.

Your tired voice kept flowing through the phone, sweet and trusting, while he buried his face deeper into your pillow and inhaled what remained of your scent.

His hips shifted restlessly, chasing relief he had barely finished giving himself. Shame should have stopped him.

Instead, the idea that you were talking so innocently while he lay covered in his own release, getting hard again because you had called him baby of all things, made fresh need tighten low in his stomach.

Every filthy thought returned twice as vivid.

Your mouth. Your pussy. Your hoarse little plea to fill you.

How silly of him to think one damning orgasm would be enough.

How devastating.

@garfieldhollander @httpstoyosi @alexandritte80 @may-machin @snowsgames @athenxt @kristne13 @nobeautywithoutstrangeness @wtfrudoinhere @thel0v3hashira143

@vanillapjm @doctorwhoandfairytaillover @marvel-hiddles-stark @foremma444 @yyiikes @kooquetre @niceforcum22 @tw1sters @strawbvrrystrgirl @pinksplace

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Clark, however, was feeling even more impatient than you. Every time he was close, he could smell you. He’d become accustomed to what you smelled like in different moods, and it seemed you really liked it any time he let his eyes linger on you. Or when he kissed you. Or held your hand, or hugged you, or… like, most of the time he was near you in general.

It was making him crazy.

He smiled at you across the table in another meeting at the Daily Planet, noting how you shifted a little bit after catching his eye. He felt his heart flutter every time he saw you react to him in any way. As much as he wanted to be inside of you, he wasn’t some pervert. He actually liked you. A lot. He just also felt hot under the collar any time he thought of you.

It was worse when you got a new perfume. Not that he didn’t like what you wore before, but now? The scent with the natural smell of your skin mixed together was intoxicating. It was also embarrassing. Nearly every time he could smell the trail of scent you’d leave behind you, he was fighting tooth and nail not to get hard; and often failed.

At the end of your third date, he’d kissed you a little harder than he normally would. It made you weak in the knees, and even more needy than you usually were with him. His big hands dipping a little lower on your waist than usual, and the most gentle brush of his tongue against yours. You wanted more, but true to Clark fashion, he just had to be so coy and sweet.

You almost groaned in frustration when he pulled away, his cheeks a little pink as he flashed you a smile.

“Goodnight,” Clark murmured softly. “I… I really like this. Being with you.”

Fuck. You knew it’d be a long night the second you were alone. You swallowed and nodded.

“Yeah. I do too.”

He grinned again, kissing your cheek. “Okay. See you at work?”

“Yeah. See you then.”

He watched you walk inside, letting his eyes trail down your body when he was sure you wouldn’t notice. He couldn’t handle it. Being around you all night, watching you laugh at all his stupid jokes, smelling that gorgeous smell that was all you and the sweet perfume you wore… he needed relief. Badly.

Clark found himself at home within seconds, stumbling into his room in a love-drunk stupor. He ripped at the buttons of his shirt, breathing shaky and excited. He pushed the shirt off, tugging off his undershirt as well. He shoved his pants down in one go, dropping down onto his bed with a hand wrapping around his leaky cock. He let himself picture you.

“Please,” he whispered to nobody but himself, hips starting to jut up to meet his hand.

He couldn’t help but think of how it’d feel if it was your hand touching him like this. How big he’d look beneath your fingers. If you’d use your mouth, your pretty lips struggling to fit him in comfortably. If you’d swallow around him as you tried not to gag, his cock touching the back of your throat. He stroked himself faster, throbbing and pulsing with the need to cum. He wondered if he’d be able to smell you soaking yourself as he came down your throat, and how long it would take for him to make you come on his tongue as a thanks. How you’d move against him, if you’d stay still and let him work or if you’d be so desperate that you wouldn’t be able to help but to grind against his face. He’d be overjoyed with either option.

He reached his other hand down, wrapping both firmly around himself, thrusting up into his fists, pretending it could be you. But he knew it wasn’t the same. He knew you’d be so soft and warm. Tight and cozy and wet around his length as he bounced you on his lap until you were cockdrunk and a little bit dumb. He liked the idea of being the only person who could make it so that you’d turn off your overactive brain for a little while.

He pushed himself into his hands, imagining every possible scenario, certain he could smell you even now. He breathed heavy, murmuring little pleas and whines of your name before he was tensing, hips still jerking as he spilled over his knuckles. It was a full minute of cumming to the thought of his pretty girl. His girlfriend? Maybe he should properly ask, he thought. He wanted you as his.

He glanced down, his own release drenching his hands and thighs. He took a deep breath. Time for a shower.

You saw him at work the next day, his face a little blushy every time he glanced at you. It was sweet, but a little… unusual?

He was generally shy and it wasn’t unheard of for him to get a little red-faced every now and then. But all day? Geez.

“Hey,” you said softly, walking up to him at his desk that afternoon. He looked up with wide eyes beneath his glasses. “I’m finished for the day. You want to go get dinner or something?”

“Oh! I, uh… after work is no good. But maybe later? Dessert? I can bring it to your place?” He offered, glossing over the fact that he was going to be busy with the Justice Gang. He hadn’t exactly let the Superman secret slip yet. “If that’s okay.”

“You want to come over?”

He blinked. “Oh… I, uh—”

“I’d like that,” you offer, smiling at his flustered expression. “I’ll text you my address.”

“Oh. Okay,” he breathed out, his smile bright. “Great. Maybe like… eight? Is that okay?”

“That’s perfect.”

“Great.”

You smiled at him again, then left. You went home, body buzzing in anticipation. It’s not like you planned on attacking him or anything. Just… suggesting more. Also, you figured you should probably let him know that you’d one hundred percent seen him use his super-speed out of the corner of your eye a couple weeks ago. So much for that ‘secret’ of his.

You made yourself a light dinner, then took a long, hot shower. You dressed down, a thin tank top and soft pair of cotton shorts. Nothing overtly sexy, but not covering much. You figured that the hint of a nipple through fabric would probably do the job for someone as polite as Clark. It turned out to be true, judging by the way he tried to not let you notice he was staring at your chest the second you opened your front door for him.

“Hey,” you greeted with a grin.

“H-hiya. Hi.” He swallowed, trying to make sure he kept his eyes on your face. Nowhere else. But gosh, a tank top and shorts never looked so provocative before. He lifted up the small cheesecake in his hand. “Brought dessert. I remember you liked the strawberry cheesecake from the office Christmas party last year.”

You smiled softly. “That’s sweet. Thank you. Come on in.”

He ducked his head, clearly happy that he’d done good. He stepped inside of your apartment, looking around curiously. He toed off his shoes as you took the cake and brought it to the kitchen. He trailed after you, eyes darting between your home and your ass. He was feeling a little hot.

“You have a, uh… a nice place. I like it. Smells good in here.”

“Thanks. I try to keep it clean.”

He hummed once, leaning against the counter as you popped the lid off the cake.

“Not just that,” he said softly, watching your hands as you started cutting into it. “It just smells like— you. Your perfume I guess. Your skin.”

“You know what my skin smells like?” You laugh.

He flushed. “Oh. Gosh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that to sound so creepy. You just… you just smell good. You smell like you. It’s nice.”

“It’s not creepy. It’s sweet.”

“Oh.”

“I like you, Clark. Quit worrying so much,” you mention, glancing at him as you lick a bit of the strawberry syrup off your thumb.

His eyes followed the movement, his tongue running over his lip once. “I like you too. A lot.”

You just grin softly. You plate up the cheesecake, handing him both slices.

“Go sit in the living room. I’m gonna grab some wine.”

He faltered for a second. “I don’t really drink much.”

“I know. It’s only one glass, I know you do that sometimes. I don’t intend on taking advantage of you, you know?”

“R-right. Okay.”

You watched as he walked away. God, he has a cute butt.

Two slices of cheesecake and three glasses of wine later, two for you and one for him, you were definitely getting a little cozier. He pretended not to notice how you leaned into his side; you pretended not to notice his hand on your knee.

“Cat totally thought you and Big Blue were hooking up, by the way.”

Clark blinked, looking away from the movie you’d put on. “Pardon?”

“Since you’re always up his ass. She asked me after me and you started dating if you were getting some super-dick on the side,” you mention with a short laugh.

“Super-d—? That’s inappropriate.”

“And hilarious.”

“Oh, please.”

You chuckle, smiling up at him. Despite his verbal protest, his cute little dimples were still poking into his cheeks. He just looked at you, his eyes wide and sparkling.

“I really do, ya know… like you.”

“You said that,” you reply softly.

“I know. I mean it.”

You just look at him, heart fluttering and body thrumming as he leaned in, his lips on yours. It started off soft. Just a few soft, lingering kisses. You snuck a hand into his dark hair, not tugging but definitely gripping. Judging by the shaky breath that left him, you assumed he liked that. Your assumption was proven correct as he deepened the kiss, one strong arm snaking around your waist to pull you into his chest. You took that as your cue, swinging a leg over his hips, settling on his lap and right over the bulge in his pants.

He gasped your name against your lips. “Geez.”

“Yeah?”

He nodded, hands running over your hips and waist. “Yeah.”

Clark felt like he could explode, metaphorically and physically, when you started kissing him again. You were aroused. He knew it well. It invaded his senses and made him dizzy, pulling your hips over his before he could think twice about it. He groaned in the back of his throat when he felt the friction against the extremely obvious erection straining to get out. He nearly passed out when you made an equally needy sound.

“I like you,” he breathed out, voice wrecked already.

“I know, Clark.”

“A lot.”

You smiled, rolling your hips again with his instruction. “I know. I can feel how much you like me, you know?”

He whimpered. Full-on, whiny little whimper. He was smart, he knew he was. And strong. He could pull a building off its foundation. But now? With you on top of him, rubbing yourself on him like this? He felt weak and brainless. Every single blood cell that should be in his brain went straight to his cock. The only reason he didn’t feel embarrassed is the fact that he knew you felt the same way, your pretty face glossed over with want. He mumbled your name once, looking up at you with big, wet eyes.

“You done playing gentleman?” you asked teasingly, brow raised.

He pouted. “I am a gentleman.”

“I know, baby. But I am a woman who wants my boyfriend to touch me for once.”

He groaned. Boyfriend. Yay! “Golly.”

You laughed, for a moment. But it was cut awfully short when his hands snaked under your top, cupping your bare breasts. You let out a soft noise, letting him grope you as he kissed down your neck.

“Clark.”

“Mm…”

Clark was in heaven. Clothing strewn all over the floor and furniture, leaving a breadcrumb trail all the way to your bed. He laid between your legs in only his underwear, staring at you bare and spread out for him as he kissed up your legs.

“Y’so pretty,” he mumbled against your thigh, looking up at you with stars in his eyes through his frames. “Smell so good.”

“Clark, please.”

He smiled, licking his lip as he dragged a finger through your folds, watching the slick gather on his fingertip. He spread you open with two fingers, taking in a deep breath. He leaned in, kissing just over your clit, tongue flicking out to taste you.

“Taste even better.”

“Fuck,” you whined, watching him with hooded eyes.

“Mhm. Thank you,” he muttered, diving in again.

Your hands tangled in his hair, gripping tight as his mouth moved over you. He smiled against you, giddy to finally be tasting you. He’d thought about it so many times, if you’d taste as sweet as you smelled. His hips ground against the bed on their own volition, wanting to find any kind of relief from how he was throbbing in response to finally being able to touch you. He’d been so good, so patient, so slow… and it was finally paying off in a big way. He moaned into your pussy, tongue delving into you, practically fucking you on his mouth. His hands wrapped around your legs, keeping you wide open for him.

Your hips moved against him as much as they could, trying hard to get that extra friction. He ate you out like he was starving for it. You wondered if he’d thought about it as long as you did.

He looked utterly ruined, his cheeks flushed and hair a mess. His glasses were fogged. You reached for them, trying to pull them off, but he quickly grabbed your wrist.

“No,” he shook his head, lips brushing against you.

“Why? Wanna see you.”

“I— I need them.”

“You said you were nearsighted.”

He looked up, trying to see you through the fogged lenses. “W-well, yeah, I just…”

“Please?”

“I really can’t.”

You huffed, horny and needy and wanting to see him.

“Clark.”

“Baby, please. You don’t understand.”

“What don’t I understand about glasses?”

“They…” He paused. How could he say it without saying it? He needed them because he was secretly a space alien who wore his underwear on the outside to fight crime and rescue puppies? Not exactly a sentence that rolls off the tongue. “It’s… they’re a part of me.”

“They’re not surgically attached.”

“No, but they’re, uh…” he glanced down, your pussy still wet and needy in front of his face. He had half a mind to tell you he was Superman just so he could get back to business.

“Quit it.” You pulled the glasses off before he could notice.

He jolted, shocked and nervous and feeling suddenly like he was in deep. Shoot. He stuttered out your name, his heart pounding out of his chest. You’d seen him. His cover was blown. You’d probably freak out and not want to see him again and not let him make you cum and he’d go home with blue balls and a broken heart.

“I’m… I’m so sorry. I should’ve told you, I know. I just didn’t know how to say it, and we hadn’t talked about if we were like actually a thing until you called me your boyfriend today, and… and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“Clark.”

“W-what?”

“I knew you were Superman. Now in the nicest way I can say it, shut the fuck up and get your face back down there before I finish myself off instead.”

He blinked in shock, almost ready to protest before you pushed his head back between your legs. He couldn’t argue with that. He moved faster, wanting even more badly to make you feel good. You knew. You knew who he was and it didn’t matter. He could cum right then and there if he wanted to.

You gasped, back arching high as he gained a new fervor he hadn’t had before. Maybe it was the fact that he didn’t feel like he had to hold back all the way now. Whatever it was, you didn’t really care. What you cared about was the way he humped the bed and whined against your skin as you came on his tongue.

You were in a haze, the orgasm knocking your feet out from under you. Clark watched you as you came down, chest heaving. Pretty tits and a pretty face and the cutest pussy, his pretty girl. He sighed dreamily, eyes flitting all over you as he pushed his underwear down his thighs.

You blinked your eyes open, mouth watering at the sight of a fully naked Clark Kent and his monster cock. Cat totally owed you twenty dollars, you knew he’d be massive.

“C’mere,” you mumbled, reaching for his hips, trying to draw yourself up to him.

“What?”

“Want it in my mouth. Please.”

“Baby…”

You leaned closer, hand wrapped around him. “Just for a little. Just let me.”

He let out a soft, shaking breath as you touched him. He memorized the way his cock looked in your hand. He knew he was big, but he looked almost scary in your grip. It was insanely hot. His mouth watered as you licked your lips, trying to prepare yourself to take him. He gasped, hand touching your hair softly as you leaned up to brush his tip against your lips. He shifted a little closer on his knees, trying to make it so that you were a little more comfortable.

“So sweet,” he said softly, barely above a whisper. “Sweet girl.”

You smiled up at him, no more of those adorably dorky glasses covering his gorgeous eyes. His lips stayed parted, clearly paying attention to every tiny move you made as you played with him. You let your tongue loll out of your mouth, dragging it against the blunt head of his dick. He moaned outright, hand resting in your hair now, hips jerking as you took him into your mouth.

Your eyes fluttered as you took more of him in, your mouth opening wider to try and accommodate his size. He felt hot and heavy on your tongue, the salty taste of his precum nearly making your eyes roll back into your head. You bobbed your head slowly, taking as much of him as you could. He whined and moaned and made sounds you never expected to hear from him. If only the world knew that Superman was so desperate when he got his cock played with.

He suddenly pulled you off, chest heaving.

“Wait. W-wait. Sorry, honey, I just… I don’t want to cum in your mouth the first time.”

“Hm?”

“Wanna be in you.”

You swallowed, eyes still trained on his length as it jumped in excitement. “Okay. Yeah.”

“Do you have, uh… I didn’t bring any…”

“You want to wear a condom?”

He opened his mouth, then closed it. “You should always practice safe sex.”

“That the slogan on one of your educational billboards?”

He frowned. You laughed.

“Just want to be responsible.”

You nodded. “Okay. But, for the record, I’m on a contraceptive.”

You almost laughed at the way he clearly struggled with that though. He knew wearing a condom was still the safe option. He also knew that he wanted nothing more than to finish inside of you.

You giggled as he made his decision, pushing you back on the bed and kissing you deeply. He pushed your thighs to your chest and settled on his knees, brushing his thick tip against your pussy, still puffy and needy from the way he’d made you cum with his mouth. He let out a slow breath, rubbing your clit with it a few times before he pressed at your entrance.

“I know it’s… it’s big. Just tell me if it hurts, okay?”

You nodded, watching as his face tightened in pleasure and anticipation. You forced yourself to relax, letting him press into you slowly. You moaned pathetically as he pushed harder, the first few inches hurting as much as they changed your life.

“Y’okay, baby?” He grunted out, slowly starting to rock his hips in that shallow depth.

“Y-yeah. Yes.”

“Good. You’re taking it so good, baby. Look at you.”

You whined, not expecting the praise. You fluttered around his length involuntarily, drawing another sound from him. He pushed in further and further with each slow, careful thrust.

“That’s my girl. So good for me. So pretty.”

He dropped down on top of you, wrapping your legs around his hips with strong hands, pulling you up onto his lap. You gasped, the new angle letting him fill you to the brim. He thrust into you quicker now, arms pushing you off and on as he moved his hips.

“Pretty baby. Perfect for me, fitting all of me in you. Y’feel this?” He grabbed your hand, pressing it to your lower belly to feel the bump of him hitting you deep with every rock of his hips. “Take me so well. Gorgeous girl. You’re doing such a good job.”

“Baby… baby, please. Clark.”

He smiled. Cocky son of a bitch. “I know, honey. You like it, huh?”

You nodded quickly, brain and body turned to jelly as he rammed into you like you were his personal fuck toy. He breathed heavy, a million little sounds leaving him between all of his praises. His face was buried in your neck, moving faster now. You held onto him as tightly as you could, one arm around his shoulders, the other hand tangled in his hair.

He groaned, trying hard not to cum with every move of your body against his. He’d never felt such a perfect fit, it was like you were two puzzle pieces finally clicking. He shuddered against your skin, kissing down your neck and chest until he found one warm, stiff nipple to pull into his mouth. He sucked, alternating between a steady suction and his tongue swirling and flicking over it.

“M’gonna cum,” you gasped out, feeling deliciously overwhelmed.

“Good. Attagirl. You can finish, baby. You can cum,” his voice rumbled against your skin, switching to the other nipple. “Cum for me. You can do it.”

You whined and whimpered, letting him pump into you a few more times before you cried out his name, legs shaking hard. He moaned in time with you, trying like hell to keep moving in order to let you ride it out.

If he thought you smelled good before, the scent of you like this could rouse him from a coma. He could only move for a few more seconds before he was buried himself deep, grinding more than thrusting as he gasped your name, mouth still open against your tit. You felt him fill you, cock twitching and throbbing inside of you.

“Shoot,” he whispered, kissing up your chest until he settled his face against your neck. “Baby. Thank you. Thank you.”

“God damn.”

“Never felt anything like you.”

You smiled drowsily. “Says you.”

He laughed, rubbing your back slowly, fingers tracing the skin. “I’ve been thinking about that a long time.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

“I get half hard any time I smell you.”

“What’s up with you and smells?” you asked softly, leaning back to look at him with sleepy eyes.

“Super senses.”

“Ah.”

“Super smell. I pick up a lot of stuff, and you… you smell extra good when you’re— when you’re wet?”

“That is so gross.”

“Can’t help it. You’re delicious,” he said with his lips against your neck again, voice rumbling in his chest. “Can’t believe you knew this whole time.”

“Not hard to guess, Clark. At least not when I both date you and work with you.”

“Mm… shoulda told me you knew.” He kissed your neck, then your jaw, then cheek, and finally lips. He smiled against your lips. “Dropping that and then pushing me between your legs wasn’t fair.”

You smiled back. “Yeah, well. Also wasn’t fair to hide it. We’re both at fault.”

“Maybe.”

You kissed him again, just once. “So… Superman. Super cock. Super eater. You got super stamina, too?”

You walked up to the coffee pot, mug in hand. It had been a long day, and it wasn’t even noon yet. An article deadline was creeping up on you, and there were still edits to be made on a few others. You went to grab the pot when Jimmy suddenly appeared, taking it first.

“So… He talk to you yet?” Jimmy asked with a smile, pouring his mug full. He noticed your frown, chuckling once before he filled yours as well.

“Thanks. Who?” You asked, taking a sip.

Jimmy raised a brow. “Uh…”

“James.”

“Don’t full name me.”

“Don’t hide things.”

He sighed, regretting for a moment that he’d ever befriended you. “Clark.”

You snorted a laugh. “Talk to me about what? He can barely look at me without shuffling away.”

“Well, he just—”

The man himself appeared, staring at Jimmy with a tensed jaw. Clark had heard your conversation from across the room, though he couldn’t exactly let it slip that he had superhearing. He had to play it cool. As cool as was feasible for him, at least.

“What are you up to?” Clark asked, grabbing himself a disposable cup to fill. He didn’t often drink coffee this late in the workday.

“Jimmy says you’re supposed to talk to me,” you state, looking up at him and his gorgeous jawline. You let your eyes linger as he glared at Jimmy. “Won’t tell me what about, though.”

“Oh. Uh… well, I…”

“I’m gonna…” Jimmy trailed off, throwing a thumb over his shoulder before he quickly retreated. He didn’t want to be there if a train wreck occurred.

“You…?” You prompted, looking up at him.

“I was just, uh, wondering. If you’d, you know, maybe want to go out some time? Like let me take you out? On… on a date.”

“Oh?”

He blinked at you, cheeks a little pink. You just smiled. May as well cut the poor guy a break.

“Yeah. Sure, I’d love to.”

He let out a breath, his own smile coming out. “Oh. Gosh. Thank goodness. Uh, well, how about tonight? Are you busy?”

“No, I’m free,” you responded, biting back a wider smile. He was adorable. “Where do you want to take me?”

He swallowed. That was a complex question, considering he’d like to take you anywhere. Against a wall, in his bed, kitchen, living room, file room, your car. None of those would be appropriate answers, though, he thought.

“How about Italian food?”

“Love it.”

“Okay! Great,” he replied with a cheesy grin. “Great. I know an amazing place a few blocks down from here, actually, that I’d love to take you to. Uh… d-does seven work for you? Enough time to head home and stuff first?”

“Sounds perfect.”

Clark was floating on air the rest of the day. He had enough time to do a few rounds as Superman after work before he had to actually freshen up and get ready for the date. He’d picked you up at your place, which really means that he flew over and then took you on a walk to the restaurant. It wasn’t far, and it gave him more time to get to talk to you.

The date went phenomenally, and you were equally as charmed as he was. He was sweet at work, but in this context? He was incredible. Chivalrous, shockingly flirty, and you could swear his eyes were literally twinkling. By the time dessert came you were three glasses of wine deep and feeling a little… warm.

“I’m glad we did this,” you say softly, reaching forward to brush his knuckles with your fingers.

He glanced down, heart fluttering as he watched you touch his hand.

“Y-yeah. I am too. I’ve… honestly, I’ve had a crush on you for a while. I’m really happy you said yes.”

“Really?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

You smiled, chewing your lip. He turned his hand over, taking yours. He let his thumb brush over the back of your hand. You sighed dreamily. God, he was big. And gorgeous. Your thighs pressed together under the table, trying to suppress that tingling feeling you always got when he got close. Though, this time it was cranked up to ten.

He tried asking you a question about your family, though he could hardly pay any attention to the answer as a familiar smell hit his nose. He took in a breath, glancing down at your hand again, his jaw ticking once. He tried to ignore it, he really did. But knowing with certainty that you were here, holding his hand, and getting wet just talking to him? It was driving him insane.

“You okay?” You asked softly.

“Hm?”

“You look a little spacey.”

“Oh.” He gulped, looking at you again. “Yeah. Yes, I’m okay. Sorry, just… a little distracted, I guess.”

You tilted your head in question. “Distracted? By what?”

“You,” he admitted quietly with a soft smile. “You’re just… very distracting.”

You grinned, chin resting in your palm. “Oh yeah? How so?”

He sighed once. “Well… y-you’re pretty. Beautiful. Sweet. Funny. Just really… really great. Distracting, like I said.”

Distracting indeed. You could hardly focus on anything but him. But maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing.

“We should do this again sometime,” you comment quietly as he walked you to your front door.

He nodded. “Yes. Yeah, I would really love that.”

“Cool.”

“Cool.”

He just smiled at you for a moment. You looked back up at him, squeezing his hand once again, trying to commit the feeling of his skin to memory. Maybe if you did it well enough, you could pretend it was his hand between your legs later that night. You figured he wasn’t the kiss-on-a-first-date kind of guy.

You figured wrong.

Clark plucked up all the courage he could, willing himself not to get hard as he leaned in. A tall order, considering he was halfway there from your scent alone. Having super-senses was certainly helpful when it came to gauging your interest.

You looked up with wide eyes, closing them only when his lips were finally against yours. His lips were soft but firm, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to yours, his hand bracing against your cheek.

This was a feeling you were sure to log in your mind for later.

He knew he’d be thinking of it for the next week every time he had an ounce of alone time.

He pulled away after a moment, sighing softly against your lips.

“This was nice.”

“The kiss or the date?”

He smiled. “Both.”

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