#dccastedit

You had never been one to orgasm easily. You’d had them before on your own, in quiet and careful moments but never with a partner and certainly never this often, this intensely. That changed the moment you started dating Clark and now that the two of you had moved in together… It felt like it happened all the time.

On weekday mornings, you and Clark usually fell into a comfortable routine where one of you would shower while the other made breakfast, trading off depending on who needed to leave first. But when Clark was the one manning the stove, there was always the risk that he’d cheat the system.

Steam was curling lazily around you when the sound of the shower curtain rings rattling broke through your thoughts, right before a rush of cooler air slipped in as the curtain was pulled back and in stepped a very naked, very unapologetic Clark. His hands were already eager and insistent, sliding along the damp curve of your hips.

“What about breakfast?” you asked, not turning toward him, though you could practically feel the grin stretching across his face.

“That’s what food delivery is for,” he murmured against the back of your neck, his voice deep and playful as his fingers curled around your hips and pulled you flush against him. You felt the solid press of his body almost overwhelming in the misty space. “We’ve got fifteen minutes.”

“For?” you breathed, though your voice betrayed you, already breaking under the anticipation.

His hands drifted lower, one steadying you while the other slid between your thighs. Two deft fingers parted your folds with unhurried confidence, finding your clit with an accuracy that made your knees threaten to buckle. The first sweep of his touch had you gasping, the sound bouncing sharply off the tile walls.

Even Clark’s breath hitched as his sensitive hearing caught every shift in your voice and every stutter in your breathing. It fed something primal in him and you felt it in the way his body tensed behind you. His cock was unsurprisingly already hard, pressed against the curve of your ass but he never pushed for his own release. 

His focus was entirely on you, on wringing every desperate sound from your lips until you were shaking against him. His excuse? You deserved to start the day relaxed, unrushed and thoroughly loved on, body and soul, until there wasn’t a trace of tension left in you.

His touch was unrelenting yet precise, coaxing you toward that sharp, dizzy peak you’d once thought impossible to reach with anyone else…and with Clark, you knew it was only the beginning.

You didn’t know people could genuinely come from nipple play, until it happened to you.

You’d been holed up in the study for four straight hours, eyes glued to your laptop, fingers tapping away as you chased one piece of research after another. Clark had brought you lunch earlier, leaning down to kiss the top of your head before quietly leaving again, but when he returned to collect the now half-eaten plate, he caught the sound of a quiet, weary sigh on his way out. 

He stopped at the doorway, watching you for a beat before striding back in. “Can you please stand?” he asked, his tone calm but carrying that subtle authority that made your pulse skip.

You glanced up, brows knitting, waiting for an explanation that would never come…unlike you. “Clark, I’m in the middle of–”

“I won’t ask you twice,” he interrupted smoothly, voice firm. “You know I can do it myself.”

You chuckled under your breath because you knew exactly what that meant, he wasn’t above simply picking you up and moving you, he’d also do it with infuriating gentleness. Still, you rose, only for him to drop into your chair and tug you effortlessly onto his lap.

“What’s this about?” you murmured, already melting a little against him as his large hands settled on your waist.

“Taking a break,” he said casually, as if the way his palms were sliding under your shirt was perfectly normal. “Tell me about your research.”

So you tried, words spilling haltingly as his warm fingers traced slow, deliberate paths up your ribs until they cupped your breasts. His chin rested on your shoulder, his voice a low hum of encouragement while his thumbs brushed over your now hard nipples.

When you faltered mid-sentence, breath catching, he murmured, “Keep going. I’m listening.” And he was, though mostly listening to every change in your breathing and every subtle shift in your voice as he rolled your nipples between his fingers with expert precision, coaxing wave after wave of heat through you.

Your body tightened in response, thighs pressing together reflexively as the pressure kept building until you were trembling, head tipping back against his shoulder. He never rushed you, never broke his steady rhythm, just kept you balanced perfectly on that knife-edge until pleasure rolled through you sharp and sweet.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he whispered, one hand splayed firmly over your belly as if holding you together just to make you fall apart again. “Relax. You know I don’t like seeing you stressed.”

And you could only lean into him, boneless and dazed, wondering how on earth you’d ever get any work done in this house again.

Other times, it wasn’t stress or work keeping you up, it was that restless, inexplicable inability to fall asleep. You’d toss and turn beside him for what felt like hours, huffing in frustration before flopping onto your side with a loud sigh.

That was always Clark’s cue.

Before you could shift again, he’d hook an arm over your waist and pull you flush against him, caging you in like you were some wayward blanket he refused to let escape.

“You’ve been at it for 20 minutes,” he whispered into your hair, his voice a warm rumble. “What’s wrong? You’re not cold, it’s not too hot and your heart’s at a normal rate, except for a few jumps every time you flip over.”

You squinted into the dark. “Are you using your powers on me?”

“I always use my powers on you,” he mumbled and you could practically hear the grin.

You rolled your eyes and got more comfortable in his arms but the movement pressed your hips more firmly back against him. The low, involuntary groan it pulled from his chest made your clit pulse.

“Are you frustrated about somethin’?” he asked, voice going a touch lower.

“Just go to sleep, Clark. I’ll go take a walk or something.”

“Or,” he interrupted smoothly, “you could get off on me. Same effect, faster results and you stay where I can see you.”

You were about to scoff but the heat already curling in your belly told a different story and so you did. Tangled in his arms and unable to move more than your hips, you grinded against the hard length straining against his boxers. The restriction made it all the more maddening, making pleasure coil tight until it burst over you and not just once either.

By the third orgasm, your limbs had gone boneless and your body melted into the bed as sleep pulled at you with irresistible force.

The only one left wide awake, aching and frustrated was Clark. His powered stamina meant he could’ve gone for hours but with nowhere to put it, all he could do was lie there with his boxers damp from a twice-over release.

If there was a hell designed specifically for the superpowered, this might’ve been it.

But your favorite of those random orgasms was definitely movie night.

Dinner had gone smoothly and now the two of you had settled on the couch with a blanket tossed over your laps. No matter how sprawling the couch seemed, you always ended up in the same spot, curled against him.

Under the blanket, his hand slipped under your underwear, his large fingers sliding in and curling just the way you loved. You weren’t ashamed to admit that you had never been this sexually satisfied in your life.

He couldn’t resist watching your reactions, the way your body quivered under his touch and how your breathing caught in little hiccups that made his own pulse quicken. His lips brushed your temple, nuzzling into your hair as his fingers worked, coaxing pleasure from every nerve ending.

“You like that, baby?” he murmured, his voice low and rough against your ear. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

You nodded, thumb brushing over his forearm in a silent affirmation. This wasn’t just about physical satisfaction, it was the intimacy of it and the way he could make you melt while you were both just existing together. Clark loved having you this close and feeling every subtle tremble and shiver that ran through your body at the slightest touch. You whimpered softly, a quiet sound of surrender that made him grin against your skin.

"That's my good girl," he cooed, lips brushing the shell of your ear, his hot breath sending a shiver down your spine. "I love how responsive you are to me."

You hummed in contentment, eyes half-lidded as the TV flickered in front of you, though your attention was far from the film. Every slow blink, every parting of your lips and shiver of your body under his touch was a testament of your trust in him, allowing yourself to be consumed by the sensation rather than thinking about the ending. 

Your legs shifted slightly then, opening more as you relaxed fully into him, your body responding eagerly.

Clark smiled at the sight, his lips grazing, nuzzling and pressing soft kisses as his fingers continued their steady intrusion. He always wanted to prolong this, draw it out, teasing and building you bit by bit while feeling the way your nails dug into his unbreakable skin as your pleasure grew. He savored how your muscles tensed and quivered under his touch, each gasp and whine only spurring him on while guiding him to just the right pressure and rhythm.

"Enjoying the movie, baby?" he teased, his voice low, though he already knew the answer. Your gaze was fixed on the screen sometimes but your mind and body were entirely elsewhere. 

His fingers moved faster now, skilled and confident, curling, pressing and drawing you higher while his thumb circled your clit in a steady, rhythmic motion.

You threw your head back, letting out a moan that rang clearly through the room, your body arching into his hand as your knee splayed against his thigh. Every nerve seemed on fire, every inch of your skin alive with sensation as Clark held you close while he pushed and pulled, coaxing you closer to that familiar edge again and again, by then the flickering TV ceased to exist. 

You were lost in him and he reveled in that total, perfect surrender.

"Such a beautiful sight," he awed, lips brushing along your neck in a tender kiss, teeth grazing ever so lightly. "All soft and blissed out… and I’m not even done yet."

“Unghhh, fuck. Clark–” you gasped. “I–”

"I know, baby. I know," he said in a mock empathetic tone, fingers continuing their unrelenting assault. "Feels good, doesn’t it? You like what I’m doing to you?"

Your breath hitched and moans spilled freely from you, every sound a confirmation of the pleasure he was giving. “You’re so good to me,” you whispered more to yourself than to him, voice trembling with need.

"You deserve it, baby, don’t you think?" He paused. "I’ll give you anything you want, anything you need. You know that. Just keep making those pretty noises for me, yeah?… let me take care of you."

You quivered in his grasp, hips tilting slightly against his hand. “’M close,” you moaned, voice breaking as pleasure coiled tighter and tighter, each sound feeding the fire that built between the two of you.

Clark’s grin was audible in the warmth of his low chuckle, his hands expert and insistent, holding you on the cusp while making sure every moment stretched deliciously, until your entire body surrendered in shivers and cries that filled the room.

You gasped and trembled, hips pressing insistently against him, letting out the loudest, most unrestrained moan yet as your body arched and your thighs closed around his forearm. Clark drank it in while a mix of awe and satisfaction flooded his chest. He could feel your tension breaking, releasing under his touch and it made him ache with pride and want.

"So darn gorgeous," he murmured against your temple, lips brushing lightly over your skin as his fingers slowly coaxed you through your release. His free hand slid into your hair, threading through the strands, cradling your head and keeping you pressed securely against him, holding you even as your body shivered in the throes of pleasure.

You let out a deep, shuddering sigh as the last waves of sensation rolled through you and only once he was sure you were completely spent did he withdraw his hand. Bringing two soaked fingers to his mouth before licking them clean with a mischievous glint in his eyes. He wrapped his arms snugly around you and placed an affectionate kiss on your forehead.

"Told you I’d take care of you, sweetheart," he said, voice rich with satisfaction and tenderness, fingers now tracing idle, gentle patterns along your back. "Feel good now?"

You sighed, closing your eyes as you sank fully into the afterglow, letting your breath find a steady rhythm. “So good… missed half the movie, though.” you admitted, a small, satisfied smile tugging at your lips.

Clark chuckled quietly, nuzzling the top of your head as he held you close.

"Look at you, all blissed out already and the night just started," 

“Give me five minutes and I'll take more than two fingers. ” You mumbled, voice still thick with lingering pleasure.

He couldn’t help but chuckle. “Yes, ma’am, you will.”

Clark Kent loves nothing more than making you cum. His excuse? You make him feel human.