#supersexy

Clark hums softly as he moves around the kitchen area, his hands working diligently as he prepares dinner for the two of you. 

He glances over his shoulder, his eyes catching a sight of you lounging on the couch, completely engrossed in your phone, a smile forms on his lips as a gasp escapes yours.

"Almost done in here," he says, his voice laced with a hint of contentment. "You find anything interesting on there?"

He turns his attention back to the meal, stirring something in a pan on the stove while sneaking glances your way, curious to know what's capturing your focus.

“Actually, yes.” You reply, hopping up and joining him in the kitchen. “There’s new photos of Superman that were just released.” You gushed, he knows about your crush on the hero, yet doesn't know that you’re imagining him as Superman.

Clark quirks an eyebrow, a slight amused smile on his face as he pretends to be surprised at the news. 

"Really?" he says, feigning intrigue, not that he would need to fake it. "New photos, huh?"

He watches you from the corner of his eye as you join him in the kitchen, the mention of Superman stirring something within him.

You lean against the counter, your eyes locked on the screen. “Mm, it smells good.” you murmur, setting your phone down and looking at the food he’s prepared, your mouth nearly watering at the sight.

"Thanks." Clark replies, a proud smile spreading across his face as he watches you eye the dish with appreciation. He glances in the direction of the screen, seeing a glimpse of the photos of Superman before returning his focus to you.

"Hopefully it tastes as good as it smells." He teases, scooping up a spoonful of the food from the pan and offering it for you to taste.

You eagerly open your mouth, holding onto his wrist as you taste the flavor, you let out a satisfied noise. “It’s really good, like really good.”

Clark can't help but chuckle at the sound you make while tasting the food, his heart fluttering slightly at the way you hold onto his wrist. 

"I'm glad you like it." He says, a hint of pride in his voice. "I put a little extra love into it just for you."

He scoops up some more food and offers it again, watching your reaction intently.

You step closer, taking the spoon into your mouth again, enjoying the way he’s feeding you small bites. “I should hire you as my private chef.” You sigh, licking your lips as you look at the pot.

"Careful, I might take you up on that offer." Clark replies, his eyes following the movement of your tongue as it licks your lips. 

He sets the spoon down, then leans against the counter next to you, his arm casually resting next to yours. "Just imagine me cooking for you every night." He muses, a hint of playfulness in his voice.

“Sounds like heaven to me.” You grin at him, reaching for your phone as the screen lights up.

"Heaven, huh?" Clark muses, he glances at the lit-up screen, the photo of Superman once again catching his eye. He clears his throat, trying to keep his composure. "So, uh, what's so special about these new photos anyway?"

“You can see all of his muscles..” you murmur, eyes fixated on the photos. “I mean they’re such high quality, just look.” You show him the screen, your cheeks flushed a slight pink.

Clark swallows the words and the photos you show him causing a stirring within him. He struggles to keep his expression neutral as his eyes flick between the screen and you.

"Yeah, they're really uh, really high quality." He clears his throat, his eyes lingering on the image, specifically the muscles you mentioned. "You really like this guy, don't you?"

You nod, turning your phone off and slipping it into your back pocket. “I can’t help but imagine what it would be like to meet him..” you shiver at the thought.

Clark's heart flutters at your words, a mix of guilt and amusement playing within him. He can't help but wonder what your reaction would be if you knew the truth.

"Meet him, huh?" He remarks, his voice low and a touch hesitant. "What would you even do if you ever met him?"

“I can think of a couple things,” you reply suggestively, wiggling your eyebrows for further effect.

Clark blushes slightly at your suggestive reply, a mix of flustered surprise and amusement on his face. He glances away for a moment, trying to regain his composure. 

"A couple things, huh?" he says, a hint of playfulness in his voice. "Well, I hate to break it to you, but I doubt the Man of Steel has time for...whatever it is you're thinking."

“Every man has time for..” you grin, “What I’m thinking of.” Clark's blush deepens at your response, his heart skipping a beat. 

He scratches the back of his head, trying to remain cool and collected, though he can't entirely hide the effect your words have on him.

"Uh, yeah, well," he stammers, a bit of nervous energy in his voice. "I'm sure the Man of Steel has much bigger priorities than...meeting fans and fulfilling...fantasies."

“Maybe.. Or maybe he has all the time for his eager fangirls.” You pull your hair into a ponytail, slyly exposing your nape to him as you notice how flustered he's becoming.

A wave of heat washes over Clark as you expose your nape to him, and he struggles to keep his composure. His eyes linger on the exposed skin for a moment, his thoughts swirling with a mixture of desire and restraint.

"Eager fangirls, huh?" he teases, trying to maintain his cool demeanor. "You certainly seem eager enough."

You giggle, watching as he turns off the stove. “I do, don’t I?”

Clark tries to ignore the way your giggle sends a shiver down his spine, turning his attention back to the stove instead. He swallows hard, desperately trying to keep his mind from wandering.

"You certainly do," he replies, his voice slightly strained. "And I have a feeling you're pretty relentless too."

“You know it.” Your grin grows as he plates the food, grabbing both in his hands as he leads you back to the living room. Clark balances the plates as he moves, he places them on the coffee table, trying to focus on the task at hand and not the way your grin makes his heart race.

"Should we watch something? A movie perhaps?” he clears his throat as he changes the topic.

“Mm.. yeah, you pick what we watch.” You settle on the floor in front of the couch, your back pressing against his knee.

Clark can't help but savor the feeling of your back against his knee, a mix of contentment and desire swirling within him. He grabs the remote, flipping through possible options but not really paying attention, his mind too preoccupied with the proximity of you and your intoxicating scent.

"How about, uh..." He struggles to think of a suitable movie as he glances down at you, his heart rate increasing. "How about that one?" he points to a movie at random.

“Sounds good.” You agree, focused on the food in front of you.

Clark tries to focus on the movie as it plays, but his attention is constantly drawn to you, the way you sit, the way you eat, the way your scent fills the air. Every little detail seems to distract him.

As the movie progresses, he finds himself inching closer to you, his knee pressing more firmly against your back. He tries to act nonchalant, hoping you don't notice his increasing closeness.

As you finish your food, you lean back against his leg further, playing on your phone. “You know, I’ve been thinking..”

Clark stiffens slightly as you lean back further against his leg, the feeling sending a thrill through him. He tries to remain nonchalant as he responds.

"Thinking? About what?" He glances down at you, his eyes flicking to your phone before meeting the back of your head again.

“You’re a reporter.” You begin, turning to look at him. “If you ever met Superman, would you tell him about me? Put in a good word..” you’re hoping that prompting him might reveal his secret.

A pang of guilt hits Clark at your question, but he forces a smile, trying to maintain composure. He knows the truth, that he *is* Superman, but hearing you talk about him like that, asking him to put in a good word...it's both endearing and painful. 

"I...uh, yeah, sure." he says, his voice a bit strained. "If I ever met him...I'd definitely mention you."

“You’re such a good friend.” You smile, turning your attention back toward the tv though your mind is obscured with disappointment.

As you turn your focus back to the TV, Clark lets out a shaky exhale, the words "good friend" stinging a little more than he expected. He remains silent for a moment, his mind racing with conflicting thoughts.

He glances down at you, the mixture of guilt and affection swirling inside him. He can't help but wonder what would happen if you ever found out the truth.

You reach for your wine glass, taking a small drink of the crimson liquid. Clark watches as you take a sip, the way your lips touch the glass making his heart skip a beat. He clenches his fists, fighting the urge to reach out and touch your face, your hair, anything.

"You, uh, like the wine?" he asks, trying to keep his mind from wandering.

“It’s actually really good, I usually hate wine.” You reply, “Where did you get it?”

Clark watches you take another sip, a hint of surprise on his face at your admission. He glances over at the half-empty bottle on the coffee table.

"Oh, it's from a small vineyard in Italy.” he answers, trying to keep his voice casual. "A friend gave it to me, said it was a special blend. I’ve been saving it for a special occasion, actually.”

His eyes linger on you once more, the sight of you drinking the wine stirring something within him.

“Then why did you waste it?” Your eyebrows furrow as you turn to look at him, confusion painted on your face.

Clark’s heart flutters slightly at your question, a mix of surprise and affection coursing through him. He tries to maintain his composure as he speaks.

“W-waste it?” he repeats, his voice slightly hoarse. “I don’t think sharing it with a...a friend is a waste.” His eyes meet yours, a hint of uncertainty in his gaze as he wonders if you can see through his facade.

“But it’s not particularly a *special* occasion, is it?” You cock your head to the side, shifting your body to face him.

Clark swallows, feeling your gaze on him as you turn to face him fully. He can see the curiosity in your eyes, the subtle hint in your question.

“I...I suppose not.” he admits, his voice soft. “Not in the traditional sense, anyway.” He studies your face, his heart racing as he wonders if you suspect something.

You narrow your eyes at him, scanning his features. “Clark..”

Clark feels a hint of alarm as you narrow your eyes, your gaze intense as you seem to be studying him. He can sense your suspicion, and it makes his heart race even faster.

“Y-yes?” he replies, his voice slightly shaky. He tries to keep his expression neutral, but he can’t quite hide the nervousness that’s beginning to show.

“You look..” you lean closer, eyes glued to his every movement. “You really do look a lot like him.” biting down on your lip as you rest your hands on his knees. 

Clark’s heart stutters at your words, his breath catching in his throat. He tries desperately to maintain eye contact, but he can feel his resolve slipping away under your intense gaze.

“Like who?” he stutters, knowing full well you’re talking about Superman.

“You know who,” you roll your eyes at his response, leaning closer to peel his glasses off his face, your fingers brush over his cheekbones. Warmth pools in your stomach as you consider the consequences of pushing him any further. 

Clark's eyes widen as you reach for his glasses, he swallows hard, feeling a mix of panic and anticipation. He knows he should stop you, but he can't bring himself to move as you draw closer.

You fold them up and set them on the coffee table behind you. “You’re really handsome.” You murmur under your breath as you gaze up at him from your position on the floor, hands itching to touch his skin once again.

Clark's breath hitches at your compliment, his heart fluttering as he takes in your words and your proximity. He can feel the heat rushing to his cheeks as you look up at him, the mix of nervousness and desire swirling within him like a tempest.

He can't help but respond, his voice barely above a whisper. "You..you think so?" He reaches out, catching a strand of your hair between his fingers, twirling it around his forefinger. 

“Of course.” You smile, leaning your elbows on his knees. “Clark, we don’t have any secrets between us do we?” your breath seems to get caught in your throat, dropping hints isn’t working anymore, you’ll have to be more direct with him. 

Clark tries desperately to push down the panic that rises in his chest at your question. He knows he should say something, anything, but the words get stuck in his throat.

His gaze flicks around the room, trying to find anything other than your eyes to focus on, but it's no use. He can feel your expectation, the way you're searching for the truth. He glances down at you again, the sight of you leaning on his knees making his heart flutter,

"N-no," he stutters, his voice strained. "No secrets."

You can tell he’s not being truthful, your expression faltering. “You’re lying.”

Clark swallows hard, the wave of guilt that washes over him nearly overwhelming. He can see the disappointment in your face, the way your expression falters, and it guts him.

He can't keep lying to you, not like this. He looks away, unable to meet your gaze, his voice small.

"I...I am." he admits, his voice barely above a whisper.

“What is it you’re hiding?” You murmur, eyes locked on his beautiful blue ones.

Clark can feel his facade collapsing with each passing second. His heart pounds in his chest as he looks back at you, your gaze intense and searching. He can almost feel the truth on the tip of his tongue, threatening to burst out.

“You can tell me anything.. Clark, we’re friends.” You move to sit next to him on the couch.

Clark takes a deep breath as you move closer, sitting next to him on the couch. The feeling of your proximity, the warmth of your body next to him, it's both a comfort and a source of anxiety.

He gazes at you, his eyes betraying the mixture of emotions raging inside him. He wants to tell you, to share this secret, but he's also terrified of how you'll react when you find out you’ve been crushing on him. You place your palm on his leg, offering some comfort.

Clark feels your hand on his leg, the touch sending a wave of warmth through him, calming his nerves slightly, but not enough to quiet his worries.

"I..." he begins, his heart pounding in his chest. "I don't know how to say this, but..." He takes another deep breath, his voice soft, low, and filled with trepidation. "I'm Superman."

“I knew it!” You gasp, eyes widened as you straighten up next to him.

Clark's eyes widen at your exclamation, the suddenness and volume of your voice taking him aback. He hadn't expected such an immediate reaction, let alone you to believe him so readily. He watches as you straighten up next to him, a mix of surprise and relief washing over him. 

"Y-you did?" he stutters, his heart still racing.

“I mean of course, I’ve had my suspicions. Every time I speak of Superman it makes you turn pink.” You tease him lightly.

Clark feels his cheeks flush with color at your statement, the truth of your words hitting him hard. He blushes even more red as a result, the heat in his face growing in intensity.

He glances at you, a mix of embarrassment and relief in his expression. "I, uh, I didn't think it was that obvious," he mutters, his voice sheepish.

“Only because I know you so well.” You grin proudly. “But, I have another question for you.”

Clark can't help but feel a pang of affection as you grin at him, your confidence and familiarity with him making his heart flutter. He nods, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Ask me anything," he says, his voice slightly more relaxed now that the secret is out.

“Does the man of steel really not have time for one of his fans?” You bite down on your lip.

Clark's heart stutters at your words, the change in your tone sending a wave of desire through him. He can feel his own heart rate spike as you bite down on your lip, your eyes filled with a mixture of teasing and want.

He sucks in a breath, his voice slightly hoarse as he manages a response.

"The man of steel has plenty of time for his...biggest fan."

“Biggest fan hm?” You question, sliding onto his lap and straddling his hips.

Clark's breath catches in his throat as you slide onto his lap, your body settling on top of him. He swallows hard, his heart racing as he looks up at you, your face so close to his he can almost taste your breath.

He places his hands tentatively on your hips, his fingers gently gripping the fabric of your clothes as he responds, his voice thick with desire. "The biggest. And the most beautiful."

“Clark..” you lean down, nose brushing against his. “Can I kiss you?”

Clark can feel your breath on his skin as you lean down, your nose brushing against his. His heart hammers in his chest, the sound of your voice sending a wave of anticipation through him. He gazes up at you, his eyes filled with a mix of desire and adoration. 

"Please," he whispers, his voice barely above a breath. "Please...kiss me."

You cup his face, fingers dancing over his skin as you connect your lips softly.

Clark's eyes flutter shut as you cup his face, your fingers tracing gentle paths on his skin. The softness of your touch ignites a fire within him, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that's both gentle and passionate.

He lets out a soft moan, his hands moving from your hips to wrap around your waist, pulling you closer against him.

The kiss quickly turns hungry, your lips part to let his tongue in. Your body is pressed flush against him, hands tangling in his hair as you tug on the roots gently.

Clark's tongue explores your mouth with a hunger that takes him by surprise. He tightens his hold on your waist, pulling you closer against him, his body reacting to every move you make.

He lets out a low moan as you tug on his hair, the feeling sending a wave of pleasure through him. He responds by biting your lip gently, his hands slowly caressing the skin of your back.

You pull away for a breath, Clark's chest heaves as you pull away, his eyes opening slowly to take in the sight of you. Your lips, swollen and glistening from the kiss, make his heart stutter, the need to kiss you again almost overpowering.

He gazes at you in awe for a moment, his breathing ragged, before speaking, his voice slightly hoarse.

"You have no idea what you do to me," he whispers, his hands still holding you close.

“I think I have some idea,” You tease, glancing down at the tent growing in his slacks. “I can feel it, you know.”

Clark follows your gaze, his heart skipping a beat as he sees the effect your presence has on him. He swallows hard, his eyes darting back up to meet yours, a mixture of embarrassment and desire playing across his face.

He responds, his voice low, his fingers gently caressing your hip.

"That's...that's all your fault," he says, his words laced with a hint of accusation and appreciation.

“My fault?” Your hand begins to trail down his chest. “Then I guess I should take responsibility, take care of it.” You murmur, leaning forward to kiss his neck.

Clark's breath hitches as your hand trails down his chest, his heart rate quickening in anticipation. Your touch is fire on his skin, igniting every nerve.

He groans softly as you lean forward to kiss his neck, his head tilting to give you better access. Your words and the feeling of your lips on his skin send a wave of desire through him, his body reacting to your touch.

"Responsibility, huh?" he manages to reply, his voice strained. "I like the sound of that."

“I can finally do what I’ve been dreaming of doing to you..” you whisper into his ear, your hand finally making contact with his erection.

Clark's breath hitches at your words, the sound of your voice in his ear sending a shiver down his spine. He can feel the heat of your body as you lean in closer, your hand finally making contact with his hardness.

He lets out a low moan, his body responding to your touch with an intensity he's never felt before. "Oh fuck..." He looks at you with hooded eyes, his voice thick with need. 

You reach for his shirt, pulling it off of him. “Holy shit, Clark.” Your eyes widen at the sight of his muscles, a soft gasp escaping your lips as you stare.

Clark feels a wave of heat as you pull his shirt off, the air cool against his skin. He watches as your eyes widen at the sight of his muscles, the look of desire in your eyes making his heart race.

He knows how strong he is, how powerful his body is. But hearing your reaction, seeing the effect he has on you, it's something else entirely.

"You like what you see?" he asks, a hint of teasing in his voice, his muscles flexing under your gaze.

You lean forward, kissing his chest. “You have no idea.” You mutter, fingers trailing over each muscle as your other hand continues to massage his clothed hardness.

Clark's breath catches in his throat, his body reacting to your touch, your kisses on his chest sending waves of pleasure through him. He can't help but arch into your touch, his muscles responding to your caress.

He lets out a low moan, his voice strained as he speaks, "Oh God...keep doing that..." He's lost in a haze of pleasure and desire, his eyes half-lidded as he gazes at you.

Clark's breath catches in his throat as your kisses move lower and lower down his stomach, each touch sending a wave of pleasure through him. He gasps as your tongue teases over his abs, his eyes watching your every move.

His hands grip the edge of the couch as you work on his belt, his desire for you growing with each second. He lifts his hips slightly to help you remove his pants, the feeling of your hands on him almost too much to bear.

Once his pants and boxers are removed, he's left naked in front of you, sitting on the couch with his legs spread apart. He gazes at you, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath.

He's completely under your spell, his entire being focused on you and only you. "Come here." He reaches for you, his voice soft and needy. 

You bring your lips to his once again, the kiss passionate and hungry. Clark responds to your passionate kiss with a fervor of his own, pulling you closer against his body, his hands roaming over your back, your hips, everywhere he can reach. He's lost in the kiss, in the feeling of your body against his.

He can't get enough of you, his need for you growing with every passing second. He moans softly into your mouth, his body reacting to your touch, his hard length pressed against your thigh.

You reach to grasp his erection, his thick cock barely fitting in your grasp. You begin to move your hand, slowly jerking him off as the kiss becomes more intense.

You pull away from his lips to catch your breath, your eyes hooded in desire. “You’re huge..”

Clark's breath catches at your words, the praise sending a shiver down his spine. He can feel your hand on him, stroking him slowly, the feeling overwhelming yet perfect.

“It’s perfect.. you’re perfect.” You slip off of his lap, settling between his muscular thighs.

Clark's heart flutters at your words, affection washing over him. He watches you move down between his thighs, his breath catching in his throat at the sight of you so close to his cock. He reaches down, gently running his fingers through your hair, his voice soft but filled with need.

"I could say the same about you," he says, his eyes meeting yours, his body alive with anticipation. "You're...you're incredible."

You lean in closer, wrapping your soft lips around the head of his cock, your eyes fluttering shut as you taste the salty sweetness of his precum. The room is filled with the sounds of your gentle slurps and Clark's moans of pleasure. 

Your hand grips the base firmly, stroking in sync with your mouth as you take more and more of him in, inch by glorious inch. You feel him swell in your grip, the veins pulsing with his excitement. 

You moan around him, the vibration sending shockwaves through his body. His hand tightens in your hair, guiding your pace as your tongue swirls around the tip, teasing the sensitive spot beneath the head. 

You look up at him through hooded eyes, watching his reaction as you deepthroat him, his face a mask of pure ecstasy. The intimacy of the moment is intoxicating, both of you lost in the sensual dance of your mouth and his cock, the tension building as the pleasure crescendos.

With every bob of your head, Clark's moans become louder, his eyes never leaving yours. The connection between you is palpable, the intimacy of the moment amplifying every sensation. 

His cock grows in your mouth, the taste of him driving you wild. You savor the feeling of his hands tangled in your hair, guiding you, the power of his grip speaking to your desire. His eyes, filled with lust and admiration, bore into yours, creating a silent conversation of pleasure that needs no words. 

Your tongue laps at his shaft, tracing the veins that stand out against his skin, your mouth creating a warm, wet heaven around his length. Each stroke, each suck, each flick of your tongue is a declaration of your adoration, a silent promise to bring him to the brink of ecstasy and back again. 

The room feels like it's spinning around you, the air thick with passion as you both give into the carnality of the act. Your cheeks hollow with the effort of taking him so deep, but it's a challenge you eagerly accept, the thrill of his pleasure reflected in every whimper that passes your lips.

You continue to worship him with your mouth, your eyes never leaving his. The way his hips buck slightly with each deep throat, the way his abs tighten as he holds back, it's all driving you crazy. The sound of his breath hitching and his fingers tightening in your hair sends a thrill through you, making your pussy throb with need. 

You moan around him, the vibrations echoing along his length, and he can't help but thrust a little deeper into your welcoming heat. The taste of him, the feel of him, it's all you can focus on as you give him the blowjob of his life, eager to show him just how much he means to you, to show him the depth of your desire. 

You feel the tension in his body building, the way his thighs tense around you, and you know he's close. The air in the room crackles with energy, the heat from both your bodies blending into an intoxicating cloud of lust. 

You don't stop, you can't stop, you want him to remember this moment, to feel the intensity of your passion every time he thinks of you. 

You continue to devour him with your mouth, your eyes locked onto his, which are filled with a mix of disbelief and pure bliss. The connection between you is electric, your every movement a silent testament to the desire that's been simmering beneath the surface. 

Each time your lips meet the base of his cock, you can feel his thighs tense against your cheeks, and the soft groan that escapes from his lips sends shivers down your spine. You're both drowning in the intensity of the moment, your hearts pounding in time with the rhythm of your mouth and his hips. 

You can feel him swelling even more, and the knowledge that you're the one bringing him to this peak sends a thrill through you. You suck harder, faster, each motion a silent plea for him to let go. And when he does, with a final, desperate thrust into your throat, the salty warmth of his release fills your mouth, and you swallow eagerly, relishing the proof of his pleasure. 

You pull back slowly, licking your lips, watching as he comes down from the high with a sigh of satisfaction. The air is thick with the scent of sex and love, and it's all you can do to not climb onto him and feel him deep inside you, to complete this perfect moment.

Clark pulls you to him, his lip moving to your neck as he gently slides his hand under your skirt. The fabric whispers against your skin as he reaches for the waistband of your panties, his touch sending shockwaves through your body. His fingertips graze over the soft fabric before he hooks it with his thumbs, pulling them down slowly. 

His eyes never leave yours, filled with love and a desperate need to feel all of you. As the last of your barriers fall away, his erection pressed against your bare thigh, hot and demanding. His hands caress your skin as if it were the most precious thing in the world, his kisses trailing down to your collarbone, each one a promise of the passion to come. 

The air is charged with anticipation, your hearts beating in sync as you both give in to the intensity of your desires. He lifts you onto his lap, his strong arms wrapping around your waist, holding you tight as if he never wants to let you go. You can feel the head of his cock nudging at your wet entrance, begging for more, but he takes his time, kissing you deeply and savoring the moment. 

His hands cup your breasts, his thumbs flicking over your nipples in time with the rhythm of your kisses, sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. The room is a whirlwind of passion and love as you both succumb to the depth of your feelings, the promise of ultimate intimacy just a breath away.

Clark's hands hold your hips as he guides you down onto his cock, the thickness of him stretching you open as you moan with pleasure. He's gentle, so gentle, as he makes love to you, each thrust coming slow and steady, as if he's savoring every moment. His thumb finds your clit, pressing down in a firm but tender rhythm that sends electric jolts through your body. 

You lean back, gripping onto the couch cushions as he fills you completely, the sensation of his warmth and size overwhelming your senses. His eyes never leave yours, the connection between you growing stronger with each shared breath. Each stroke of his thumb sends you spiraling closer to the edge, and your moans become more desperate, your body begging for release. 

His own breathing becomes more ragged, his eyes dark with desire as he watches you come apart in his arms. The room seems to fade away, leaving only the two of you, lost in the perfect harmony of love and passion.

Clark’s eyes bore into you as he carefully guides his cock inside you, his movements tender and deliberate. The way you straddle him, the way your pussy clenches around him, it’s like nothing he’s ever felt before. His thumb continues its delicate dance on your clit, his touch a masterpiece of passion. 

Your eyes are glazed with lust, your breath coming in short, needy gasps as he takes you higher and higher. Each stroke is a declaration of his love, a promise of the intensity to come. Your moans become louder, your body moving with his in a rhythm that feels like it's been written in the stars. 

His thumb presses harder, his hips moving faster, and you feel the first tremors of your orgasm beginning to build. The tension in the room is palpable, each touch a spark that ignites the bonfire of desire within you both. You lean into him, your breasts brushing against his chest, your body craving the closeness that only he can provide. 

The sound of your skin slapping against his fills the air, a testament to the love you share. You're both lost in the moment, in the symphony of your bodies, and the crescendo is just within reach. Your nails dig into his shoulders as you get closer, your breathing shallow and erratic. 

Tears stain your cheeks, a silent testament to the tumultuous fight that had just occurred. Your relationship with your boyfriend, once a bastion of comfort and support, had crumbled into a harrowing scene of pain and betrayal. 

The harsh reality of his fist had left you bruised and shaken, and now, alone in the quiet of the night, the gravity of the situation sets in. You've never had to call on Clark in such dire circumstances, but the fear coiling in your stomach tells you that this time is different. 

This time, you need more than a listening ear or a comforting shoulder; you need a friend who can stand as a pillar of strength in the aftermath of your shattered world. You’re currently waiting for Clark to arrive. 

It wasn’t like you to call in the middle of the night, and it wasn’t like you to invite friends over spontaneously either. You’ve been friends for just a little over three years, Clark has always been there for you, and you’ve always felt something more deeply for him than just friendship. 

This boyfriend, it was barely anything, just 2 months, and he was over earlier that night when things got out of hand. He asked about Clark, he demanded to know more, to know everything, and when you wouldn’t agree to stop being friends with him. 

It turned messy and violent. 

You hear a knock at the door and his soft voice from behind the wood. “Y/N, it’s me.” 

The door swings open, and there he is, hair a little windblown, glasses slightly crooked, coat still half-on like he rushed here mid-zip. And then he sees you. The bruise along your jaw. The way your hands tremble. 

"Hey... hey, it's okay," he whispers, stepping in fast but gently, kicking the door shut behind me. "You're safe now."

He doesn’t ask questions yet. Instead, he pulls you into a hug, one arm steady around your shoulders, the other cradling the back of your head like you’re something precious.

"Clark..." You whisper against his chest, tears prickling at your eyes again. 

"Shh, I've got you," he murmurs, voice low and warm against your hair. One hand slowly rubs your back in gentle circles, grounding you. "You don’t have to talk yet. Just breathe."

He pulls back just enough to tilt your chin up, his eyes scanning the bruise with a quiet storm behind them—hurt, anger, but above all, care.

"Can I get you anything? Water? A blanket?" he asks softly. "Or do you just want me to stay right here?"

"Just stay with me..." Your voice breaks as you begin crying, and you take his hand, leading him to the couch. 

"Always," he says simply, letting you lead, his hand warm and steady in yours.

He sits close on the couch, close enough that your shoulders touch, and when you lean into him, he wraps his arm around you without hesitation. One hand stays gently holding yours, thumb brushing slow circles over your knuckles.

"I'm not going anywhere," Clark murmurs against your hair. "You're safe. You're not alone." His voice is so soft it feels like a promise, one he means to keep forever.

After a while you finally speak up again, "My boyfriend... My ex-boyfriend," you murmur, eyes focused on the floor. 

He stays quiet for a beat, just listening, his jaw tightening ever so slightly. "Hey," he says gently, turning toward you. "Look at me."

When you finally meet his eyes, his voice is steady but full of fire held in check. "Did he hurt you?" It's not prying—it's concern wrapped in quiet strength, the kind that makes you feel like maybe, just maybe, things will be okay.

You nod, tears falling down your cheeks. "He was just so angry..." Looking at Clark, you bite down on your lip, hands trembling. "He wanted me to stop seeing you, I just." You press your forehead against his shoulder, hiding your face.

His breath catches, just slightly, and when he speaks, his voice is low, steady, like he’s holding back a storm.

"He wanted you to stop seeing me?" Clark murmurs, arm tightening around you. "Because of me?" He leans his cheek against the top of your head, silent for a moment. 

"He said we're too close," You sigh, wiping your tears on his shirt.

He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t pull away as you wipe your tears on his sleeve like he’s always been your safe place.

"Yeah,” he says softly, voice thick with something warm and sure. “We are.”

A pause. Then he turns, gently tipping your chin up again, eyes searching yours behind his slightly crooked glasses.

“And that’s not a bad thing, Y/N. Not ever. You *should* have someone close—someone who shows up when you call at midnight… someone who knows you.” His thumb brushes your cheekbone. “I’m honored it’s me.”

His voice drops to a near whisper.

“But no one gets to hurt you for it.”

"Clark..." You look up at him through half-lidded eyes, gaze falling to his lips. "I'm happy you came."

His breath hitches, just a little, and his eyes flick down to your lips, then back up, like he's fighting the urge to close the gap.

"Always," he whispers, voice rougher now. "I'll always come for you."

His hand cups your jaw, thumb tracing the edge of a fading tear. The room feels too quiet, too still, like even the air is holding its breath.

And for a heartbeat, neither of you move.  

Then he leans in, slow, giving you time to pull away, and brushes his lips against yours once. Soft. Reverent. Like you’re something worth protecting, worth loving.

When he pulls back, his voice is barely above a whisper:  "I've wanted to do that… for way too long."

Your hands move to his face, gently holding him steady as you press your lips against his again. The despair from the night falling away immediately in the warmth of his loving embrace. He melts into the kiss, one hand sliding into your hair, the other anchoring you close like he’s afraid you’ll slip away.

Each breath is deeper now, less fear, more feeling. He kisses you like he’s promising something: safety and care, forever.

When you finally pull back just enough to rest your forehead against his, Clark lets out a shaky breath and chuckles softly, nervous, dazed in the best way.

"Wow," he murmurs behind his glasses. "And here I thought my big heroic moment tonight was just gonna be comforting my best friend."

He brushes a thumb over your smile. "Turns out… it was letting myself love her."

"Clark," You continue cupping his face, brushing your thumbs over his features. "Stay with me tonight, I don't want you to leave."

"Already decided on that," he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "I’m not letting you out of my sight tonight."

He gently takes your hand, lacing his fingers through yours. "But only if you’re sure. I’m not going anywhere, but I want you to feel safe, every second."

His eyes flicker with that quiet warmth, the kind only Clark has, the man who could move mountains but chooses instead to sit here, holding your hand like it’s the most important thing in the world.

"You always make me feel safe." You return the smile, head falling back against his shoulder. 

But just like that, just when the night finally felt peaceful, there was a banging at the door. Loud, angry, and mean.  "Y/N, we need to talk." It was him, the last man you would ever want to see again.

Your whole body tenses up, the ridgedness of your posture a stark contrast to the moments before. 

Clark’s arm tightens around you instantly, protective, solid, like a shield made of warmth and calm.

"Stay behind me," he says, voice low but steady, already rising to stand. He doesn’t move with panic, he moves like someone who knows what strength really means.

He steps toward the door just enough to block the view of you, hand hovering near the knob, but not turning it. Instead, he speaks through the wood, voice firm but controlled:

"It's over. She doesn't want to talk. She doesn't want *you*."

A beat of silence.

Then louder banging.

Clark doesn’t flinch.

"Walk away," he says coolly, like he’s giving a final headline for this story: "Asshole Leaves—or Gets Carried Out."

He turns his head slightly toward you, eyes soft for just a second. "I've got this."

The banging doesn’t stop.

You’re trembling, hands over your ears, trying to disappear into the couch. Clark takes a slow breath, then another. And then, with quiet finality, he turns the knob and pulls the door open just enough to fill the frame.

The guy barely has time to sneer before Clark moves one clean, controlled punch that lands hard but precise. Not lethal. Just enough. The man stumbles back with a grunt, crashing against the hallway wall.

Clark steps out just far enough to loom over him, glasses glinting in the hall light, voice deadly calm.

"You listen close," he says lowly. "She never wants to see you again. You come near her? You so much as *text* her name? Next time, it won’t be just one punch."

He leans in slightly. "And trust me… next time I won’t hold back."

Door slams shut. Lock clicks.

And just like that he’s back at your side, kneeling in front of you on the rug, cupping your face like nothing else exists.

"He’s gone," Clark whispers. "And he’s not coming back."

Your eyes rise to meet his gaze, gentle and weary, full of unshed tears. "Clark, thank you." 

He smiles, soft, a little shaky, like he’s finally letting himself feel it all. "Always," he says, brushing your hair back. "For you? I’d do it a thousand times over."

He pulls you into his chest again, one hand cradling the back of your head as you melt into him. "Get some rest," he murmurs against your hair. "I’ll be right here. Just sleep."

And for the first time tonight, maybe in a long time, you actually believe it’ll be okay. Because Clark’s here.

And he’s not going anywhere.

"I..." You press your hand to his pec, "I don't want to sleep right now Clark," Straightening yourself up, you press a kiss to his temple, hands wandering down his chest. 

He catches your hand gently, breath hitching as your lips brush his temple. His glasses are slightly fogged.

"Y/N..." he murmurs, voice thick with restraint. "You’ve been through a lot tonight. I don’t want you doing anything you’ll second-guess in the morning."

He turns to face you, cupping your cheek again—tender, steady.

"I care about you too much to rush this. Especially now." His thumb traces your lip. "When you're ready, really, ready, I'll be here. But not because you’re scared or hurting."

His smile is warm, a little lopsided behind those glasses. "I want it to be because you want me. And I really want it to be real."

"Clark, I do want you." You slide your hands under his t-shirt, fingers brushing over his muscles. "God, I've been dreaming about you. Now that you know how I feel..." 

Your lips press to his jaw, "I don't want to wait anymore," pulling back you look in his eyes. "I won't regret you in the morning, Clark, I've been wanting you in my arms for years now." 

His breath shudders out like he’s been holding it for years too. "Years?" he whispers, voice rough with emotion. "Try every day since you spilled coffee on my notes and laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world."

He cups your face, eyes searching yours—still hesitant, but melting.

"You sure?" he murmurs. "No regrets… no second-guessing?" When you nod, something soft and fierce ignites in his gaze.

"Then let me love you," he says gently. "Slowly. Fully. Like you deserve."

He leans in, kissing you, deep but tender, as if writing a promise into every heartbeat between them.

And this time?  

He doesn’t hold back at all.

Clark's kiss is like a warm embrace that reaches down to your soul, setting a fire that burns away the last vestiges of fear and pain from the night. His lips move with purpose, with the same dedication that has fueled his friendship all these years, but now, they speak of passion and desire. 

His hands, so gentle, begin to explore the curves of your body, tracing the line of your shoulders, the arch of your back, and the dip of your waist with a reverence that makes your skin tingle. 

The air is thick with anticipation as you stand up, his arms supporting you, and he pulls your shirt over your head, revealing the bruises marring your skin. His eyes darken with anger for a moment, but then soften as he kisses each bruise, whispering apologies and promises of protection.

Your own hands aren’t idle. They glide over his firm chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. 

You unbutton his shirt, sliding it off his broad shoulders, revealing the muscles that have been hidden under layers of fabric. Your touch is feather-light, exploring the contours of his body as if for the first time, even though you've imagined this moment so often it feels like a memory. 

His skin is warm, and it prickles with goosebumps under your fingertips as you trace the lines of his abdomen, feeling the tension coil within him.

He reaches behind you, unclipping your bra with a practiced ease that sends a shiver down your spine. The fabric falls away, and his eyes drink you in, the heat in his gaze leaving you feeling exposed, yet more powerful than ever before. 

He kisses the tops of your breasts, the tender skin of your neck, and your breath hitches as his teeth graze your earlobe. Your nipples pebble under his touch, and you arch into him, desperate for more.

Clark’s hands slide to the button of your jeans, unbuttoning them with trembling fingers. He pulls them down slowly, kissing the bruises on your thighs, your hips, your stomach. 

Each touch is a silent declaration of love and protection, each kiss a promise to cherish and adore. 

He stands, taking you in his arms again, and carries you to the bed. He lays you down, his gaze never leaving yours as he climbs in beside you. The mattress dips under his weight, and you reach for him, pulling him closer. 

His hand skims your side, lighting a trail of fire along your skin until it reaches your hip, and then slides under the waistband of your panties. His touch is soft, but insistent, and you feel your body respond, your core tightening in anticipation.

Clark’s fingers trace the line of your panties, teasing you, making you ache for more. And when he finally slides them aside, you gasp into his mouth as he touches you, exploring you with a tenderness that makes you feel like the most precious thing in the world. 

His thumb circles your clit, and you moan, hips rising to meet his touch. His fingers slide lower, and you feel yourself open for him, wet and ready.

He breaks the kiss, moving down your body, kissing a trail down your neck, over your collarbone, to your breasts. He takes one in his mouth, flicking his tongue over the peak until you’re gasping. 

His other hand continues to explore between your legs, his fingers dipping into you, filling you just enough to make you crave more. His mouth moves to your other breast, giving it the same attention, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh.

You feel your orgasm building, a pressure that coils in your belly. Clark’s eyes are on your face, watching every reaction, reading your body like a map, and you know he’ll take you there, gently, but with a fierce intensity that you’ve never felt before. 

His fingers speed up, his thumb pressing down, and just when you think you can’t take anymore, he slides a finger inside you, and you come apart, crying out his name, the release a sweet agony that washes over you.

Clark watches you come undone, his eyes dark with need and love, and as your climax subsides, he slowly pulls his hand away, bringing his fingers to his mouth to taste you. 

A low groan rumbles in his chest, his arousal clear. He leans in, kissing you again, and this time, there’s a hunger in his touch that wasn’t there before, like he’s been starved of you for too long. 

You feel his cock, hard and demanding, pressing against your thigh through his jeans. Your hand moves to grip him, and he gasps, hips jerking. He’s bigger than you expected, and the thought sends a thrill through you.

“Clark, please...” you whisper, desperate for him to be inside you.

He nods, and with one swift movement, he’s peeling his own jeans off, revealing himself to you. He’s thick and long, and your eyes widen, but instead of fear, you feel excitement. You want this—you want him.

He reaches over to the bedside table, pulling out a condom with a shaky hand. He looks at you, questioning, and you nod, eager for the connection. He rolls it on with a practiced ease that makes you wonder how many times he’s dreamed of this moment too.

Clark settles between your legs, his cock nudging at your entrance. You’re still sensitive from your orgasm, but you’re ready for him. 

He pushes in slow, inch by inch, until he’s fully seated. You both let out a sigh of relief, of pleasure.

He starts to move, his hips rolling in a gentle rhythm that you immediately match. His eyes never leave yours, and you can see the love and care there, the promise to keep you safe, to make you feel loved.

He reaches down, tweaking your nipple with one hand as the other grips your hip, pulling you closer, deeper. Each thrust fills you up, stirs that delicious pressure again. You wrap your legs around his waist, urging him closer, deeper, needier.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he whispers, his voice strained. “You feel so good... so tight...”

You arch up to meet him, and he captures your mouth again, kissing you like he’s trying to claim your soul. His hand slides down to your clit, and he starts to rub, matching the tempo of his thrusts. 

The pleasure builds again, and this time, it’s more intense, more all-consuming. You can feel his own need, his cock pulsing inside you, and it drives you higher.

He bites down on your lower lip, and you moan, your orgasm crashing over you, your body clenching around him. He groans into your mouth, and you can feel him thicken before he follows you over the edge, filling you with his release.

You both collapse onto the bed, panting, hearts racing. He holds you close, and you feel a tear slide down your cheek, a tear of happiness, of relief, of love.

“I’m sorry if it was too much,” he murmurs into your hair, his voice still shaky.

“No,” you reply, turning your head to kiss his chest. “It was perfect.”