Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

You were a pediatric surgeon, you worked with all kinds of kids, ones with family, one who were wards of the state, rich, poor, well mannered, and bratty. You were on the roof of the hospital, you were taking your smoke break, lingering a little too close to the edge of the roof. You looked down, the fall was 10 stories, that could surely kill you.

“Hello Doctor,” An unfamiliar voice greeted you. You turned around startled, you hadn’t heard anyone come through the door. Then it all made sense, this wasn’t someone unfamiliar; this was superman.

You immediately step away, “Superman. I’m glad you showed up.” You looked at the cigarette in between your fingers, “Oh, sorry. You don’t mind if I-”

“Oh! Not at all, I just have to keep my distance since… The smell.” You knew what he meant. It clings to you. You would know, you had taken your white coat off before smoking.

“No, yeah, of course.”

“But what can I help with?”

“There’s a kid that wants to see you, you know the drill.” You take a llong drag of your cigarette before talking again. Tilting your head away from the hero, you blow the smoke out of your lungs, “And there’s something else. I wanted to ask your help with modifying the pediatric wing. I wanted…” you sigh, you had practiced this before, this pitch. Yet it was so nerve wracking with him here. Superman, a god among men, and you’re telling him some stupid idea.

“The kids in critical care, they love you, ya know? They look up to you, they wanna grow up and be strong like you.” You take another drag, smoking, puffing out as you spoke, “and in this interview, you say the sun gives you powers, and they really took it to heart. But some of them- most of them can’t even get out of bed, let alone the hospital. So I came up with an idea. We modify one of the rooms to have this big window.” You gesture with your hands, “They can still get the sunlight, which makes them feel better and it’s better for their mental health instead of being cooped up in some sterile room with white lights. And we can make it have blinds so no one can peek in, it would just be like a play room that’s still accessible for kids in wheelchairs and kids in their beds. It just needs the funding.”

You could see his expression change as you spoke, he never stopped smiling but it just got brighter as you explained your plan. The two of you went back and forth for a few minutes, discussing ideas of what the actual room would look like. Superman, the Justice League, they were no strangers to the hospital, especially not the pediatric wing. If kids were super sick, or if they had a rare case, The Justice League would always come in to say hello, sometimes it was one of them, sometimes it was all of them. If you had a specific request, they gave you a number to text. All you could do was text a number depending on which heroes you wanted. But Superman had to be the most popular out of all of them, this was Metropolis after all, he was seen here the most. He had agreed to help you just as you had to leave. You stomped the butt of your cigarette out as he flew away. As he said; “there’s always someone to save.”

And he was right. Maybe he didn’t know it but he had saved you that night.

The death rate in the pediatric wing dropped over 15% after the room was complete, and the recovery rate for children with less serious illnesses rose by 8%. You were so proud of yourself. Fuck even your success in surgery rose, even you were doing better.

About 6 months later, you were approached by a writer for the Daily Planet, a man named Clark Kent. He wanted to interview you for the paper, stating that the people of Metropolis needed a heart warming story, and you were just what he was looking for. He asked to borrow you for an hour after your shift, which you agreed to. The two of you had only spoken on the phone, so when you met him it was a surprise, he was maybe 6 foot, but you couldn't tell because he was hunched over. Black curly hair dangled in his face, then made it halfway down his forehead. He had these big blue eyes as well, you couldn’t get too good of a look because he avoided eye contact. He was wearing thick rimmed, black glasses. He was dressed in a light grey suit with a dark red tie. He was attractive, attractive enough for you to wonder why he was a writer, a man like this shouldn’t hide behind the scenes. You bet he’d make a good news reporter, all he needed was confidence.

“Doctor, it’s nice to finally meet you in person.” He stuck out his hand.

You shook it, “it’s nice to meet you as well, Mr. Kent.” You pulled your hand away. His hands were so calloused.

“Please, call me Clark.”

The two of you opted to stay inside for your interview. Originally you had wanted to go into the parking lot- so you could smoke- but it was too windy and Clark needed to record the interview so you stayed inside a conference room. “Now, do you have any questions for me before we begin?”

“Your hands they’re so..” You realized how mean that could sound, “Not that it’s a bad thing, I just didn’t think a writer would have such rough hands.”

“I used to live on a farm,” He explained. That made sense. “I’m sorry if they made anything unpleasant.”

“Not at all. I was just curious since…” you trailed off, “Let’s just get started.” You were so nervous. Maybe it was because he was so attractive, or maybe it was the fact that everything you were going to say was recorded and published to a massive audience. You had done speeches before, but it was rehearsed. This was different, but at least it could be edited out. You steadied yourself, “Whenever you’re ready.”

Clark smiled. He looked down at his phone before hitting record and putting it down on the table. He said your name. You repeated his name back. The interview went well, really well. The two of you bounced off of each other well, your chemistry was good. He asked you where you got the idea and you said an interview where superman reveals he gets his powers and heals from the sun. He told you he was the one who interviewed Superman. It was nice to know who else inspired your idea. But after that he asked more about you, about what you do, nervous moments you had as a surgeon, all the types of people you meet. You really liked it, not because of the attention but because Clark seemed genuinely invested in what you were saying. He asked questions when he needed to, good ones too. He asked what words meant, mostly. You had to remind yourself that not everyone has done years of school for this. After everything, Clark had 2 hours of material.

Clark asked to walk you to your car after everything. You smiled, he was such a gentleman. “I’ll warn you, the employee parking lot is far from the visitor one, you’re gonna have a long walk back.”

“I don’t mind, I’m sure I can handle it. And you’ve done so much for me, it's the least I can do.” His voice was soft, he ended every sentence with an inflection, he sounded unsure of everything he was saying. But he was so alluring, you couldn’t help it.

“Alright then.” You two walked to the other side of the hospital, it was a long enough walk for you to smoke. “Want one?” You offered the box, grabbing one for yourself and putting it in between your lips.

“Oh, no thank you. I don’t smoke.” Clark refused. You shrugged, putting the box back in your coat pocket.

“Gotta do something to take the edge off.” It takes you a few tries to light it before you groaned. “Fucking lighter.”

“May I?” You look at him a little funny before handing it to him.

“Go for it.” You two stopped walking. Clark cupped his hand around the lighter before getting it on the first try. He lit the end for you and you grinned. You didn’t realize how close he had gotten. You studied his face for a second, god his eyes were so gorgeous, your eyes traveled down his face and stopped at his lips. A part of you wanted to lean in and kiss him. You took a long drag as he put the flame out. “I’ve had that thing since I was an intern.” You two continued to walk.

Clark looks down at the lighter, it’s red blue with the Superman logo printed onto the plastic. “I didn’t know Superman had lighters.”

“He doesn’t, it’s a custom.” You smiled, “A… friend made it for me, I replace the fluid when I need and use lube on the gear but…” You frown, “I might need to let it go soon.”

“Your friend can’t fix it?” Clark asked as he twisted it in his hands, he was looking all over it, and he could see the wear on it, some little scratches on the bottom, the gear had black in between the grooves and it was hard to light.

“She, uh. She’s no longer with us.”

You could see him tense, “Oh, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

“Don’t worry about it.” You interrupted him. “She was a good woman, she was one of my patients when I was an intern. She was terminal, so she would check in once a month then do whatever she wanted.” You took a drag as you talked, “One of her hobbies was making lighters. So she gave this to me. She died in her room the next week.”

“I’m sorry for your loss, I understand how hard it can be.” He rubbed your back, “I know it’s not easy, being surrounded by death all the time. But that’s why I’m so excited to share your story.” You perked up, ushering him to go on. “It’s such a heartwarming story, everyone needs a little hope from time to time.”

You smiled, “I guess you’re right. I dunno, I don’t think it’s a sad story. I mean, her dying, yeah. But she got to do so many things before she passed, she made things, she traveled. She had fun before she…” Another inhale, another puff of smoke. “Well this is me.” The two of you were standing in front of your car. You could see empty cigarette packs on the floor of the passenger seat, but other than that your car was clean. Thankfully, your cigarette was on its last legs, so you put it out without feeling wasteful, you twisted your heel over it. “I can drive you to the visitor lot. On one condition.”

“And what would that be?” He sounded hesitant, you couldn't tell if he was actually scared or if it was part of his personality.

“I wanna get to know about you more, I didn’t get the chance to since I was the one being interviewed.”

“Like a date?”

“Unless you say no.” You unlocked your car.

He got in before you. You had your answer. You drove him back to his, some blue truck that he’s had since he lived on a farm. You drove yourself home, a smile on your face the entire time. Your date was in a few days from now.

You stayed on your balcony all night, staring at the stars and the heroes flying by. They’re like shooting stars, people see them and they get filled with hope, with excitement. You felt like that with Superman, that S symbol really did fill you with hope. Maybe there were more people like him in this world; Clark Kent was an example of that. Kind, gentle, so caring.

The next few days were fine, each day that inched closer to your date, you got more and more nervous. Clark had called you a few times, and you would always have to cut things short because of a patient. Meanwhile when you would call him, he also seemed to be distracted by something else, sometimes he wouldn't pick up at all. It was an unintentional game of cat and mouse.

You were doing your usual, smoking on the rooftop of the hospital, before Superman greeted you. “I saw your interview in the paper,” He was holding it in his hand, “I think you did a great job with these answers, I mean. They sound so genuine.”

You smiled, “That means a lot coming from an interview expert. I didn’t know you knew Clark Kent.”

“Now he’s interviewed both of us. What do you think of him?”

“He’s sweet. We have a date tomorrow.” As you were taking a drag you started coughing, hacking even.

“Have you considered quitting, Doctor. You, out of everyone, should know how bad it is for your health.”

You shooed him, shaking your head, “It’s this or I quit.” You cleared your throat, “Everyone needs something to take the edge off, even if it’s bad.” You turned to face him, “Do you do anything to take the edge off? Would it even work, you’re practically invulnerable.”

“I wouldn't know, I never tried anything to begin with.”

You chuckled. You weren’t talking to some human, you forgot. Superman was a god, a god too good for this world. “Makes sense. Well if you ever wanted to get a drink, you know where to find me.”

“Like a date?” He questioned.

“No, no. As friends.” You clarified, “You’re, like, a coworker. I mean, like, I only see you when I’m at work.”

“That’s a good point. And it's a good idea not to mix your love and work life.”

Clark, being the mind reader he is, took you out on a fun date instead of some fancy restaurant. He took you mini golfing, and it was 21 and up so you were allowed to smoke and drink as freely as you wanted, Clark was also designated driver. You two talked a lot while playing, least in the on betweens.

You asked Clark everything you wondered, you asked him about his childhood, his job, his hobbies. You were all so curious about it, you loved hearing it. Clark’s life was so different from yours, he had a great relationship with his parents, he was from a small town in Kansas. He said he didn’t have many friends growing up, which means he only got closer to his parents. Normally, this would freak you out, momma’s boys were always the worst, but it sounded like he had more admiration for his parents, especially his dad. His dad had taught him that his actions defined him, so of course he was a gentleman. He liked dogs, he said he had, but you never saw any dog hair on him. You chatted on and on, you could tell he didn’t like all the focus on him, so you talked about other things. You didn’t even realize this was the last hole until you got there.

“Don’t mess up,” You teased as Clark lined up his shot. This was the hardest shot, the evil windmill. He had to do it perfectly or else you’d win. You made it in two shots but you were winning by one, so if he made it he would take the game. He takes a deep breath before swinging and the ball bounces off the windmill’s blade.

You silently celebrated, you waited for him to finish his game before out right cheering. “You played great Clark,” you giggled. You were surprised you did so well, considering you did a shot before even picking up the club.

In reality, Clark had let you win. He did make it close to keep you on your toes, but seeing how happy you got when you won, it made him just as happy as winning would have. You both agreed the winner got to pick where to get dessert and they got bragging rights. You were happier about the ladder.

“Well, Ms. Winner, where are we going to get dessert?”

“As long as it has drinks, I’m happy. And I think it’s fair you pick, it was a close game.”

Clark grinned, “Alright. Does your place have drinks?”

“Duh, look at me. Though I don’t know if I have dessert at mine.”

“I don’t even get a sweet treat after my amazing second place.”

“Hey, that’s not true, I can make you a super sweet cocktail.”

He laughed, “It’ll have to do.” He took your hand before the both of you left. You had to leave your car since you didn’t want to drive home in the state you were in. He promised to take you back to get your car tomorrow, but that was the least of your worries.

His car smelled like him. It had some wear, some chips in the paint, some dents here and there. But it was so clean, it looked like a psychopath's car. You happily sat in the passenger seat as he took you home, you gave directions pretty well for someone who was supposedly too inebriated to drive.

Your place was nice, surgeon money does that. It was a 2 bedroom condo, on the 2nd story. It had a balcony and wasn’t too small or too big. It was enough for you. The living room had the usual, a couch, a tv, and a coffee table. Your degrees and medical certifications were grouped together on the wall behind your tv. You didn’t have too much else up, except for the newspaper interview you and Clark did. It was framed too. He was soaking it all up as you ran into your kitchen to get some drinks and glasses.

Clark used his x-ray vision. He knows he shouldn't. It's like an invasion of privacy, but he couldn’t help it. He looked around, seeing piles of letters under your bed, seeing fancy dresses and shoes you’ve never worn in your closet. He turned and there was barely anything in your fridge. There were more mixers and juice in it than food. Your freezer was filled with TV dinners and had some ice cream. He stopped after that, now he was prying. And just in time, you came back with some berry flavored vodka and some other mixers.

“That’s a lot of stuff.” He was nervous. He had never drank alcohol before and he was scared it would impair his powers. But one drink couldn’t hurt, right?

“Most of these are just juices and mixers, the only thing that has alcohol in it is this,” You raised the Vodka with pride before pouring it into the mixer with a juice. You mixed the two and poured Clark a glass. You added more alcohol to the other half before pouring a drink for yourself. “Cheers!” The two glasses clinked before you took your slips. You didn’t even react,

Meanwhile Clark took a sip and coughed. He put the glass down, “It’s good,” He lied, “It’s just, uhm, strong? Is that the word?”

“Something like that,” you shrugged.

“You don’t mind if I ask you another question?”

You laughed, “Not at all, it is your job, anyways.” You sat up, “Hit me.”

“Why do you drink and smoke so much?” You rolled your eyes, your smile disappeared. Your reaction made Clark’s stomach drop. He tried to clarify, “I’m not, I’m not trying to say you have a problem. I’m sorry I shouldn’t have said anything, I’m really-”

“Relax Clark.” You interrupted him, “It’s alright, I hear it a lot.” You set your drink down, “It’s my job it’s… I love my job, I love helping people, don’t get me wrong but sometimes I can’t help. Sometimes I mess up and people… people die.” You took a shaky breath. “The first person I killed was a little girl, her name was Frankie Quinton. She was 10. She, uhm,” You looked at your drink. “She came in because her spine was out of line and we were going to realign in, make it straight.” You stayed silent, that memory was so clear. The smells, the sounds, the blood. She was so little, so tiny, but she bled a lot. She bled so much. She bled out on the table. You called it, the time of death was February 10th, at 10:24.

You were shaking, “There was a complication, it was something so trivial, now it wouldn’t even cause a hiccup but I had just started… She died on my table, she died while I was operating. I called the time of death, I told her parents. They-” You cleared your throat. There was a dry feeling in the back of your throat, your eyes welled with tears, but you didn’t cry. “You see people come into the hospital but not everyone leaves. And it’s harder with kids, they haven’t seen what life can give them. And they’re always so hopeful, more hopeful than their parents. I mean we don’t get a lot of kids who get cancer, or stuff like that, but when they die, it hurts the most.”

Clark moved next to you and hugged you, it was so comforting. You wrapped your arms around his torso. He petted your hair, letting your breath and heart rate steady before he talked, “I understand, it’s alright.” There was, truly, nothing he could do to fix the problem. “Maybe you could qui-”

“I’d rather die from the alcohol.” You didn’t even let him finish, you sat up, “These kids, they need me. They need someone who isn’t an idiot doing surgery on them. That’s like, that’s like asking Superman to quit.”

“Well, when you put it like that, I get it.” He understood more than he let on. He was a reporter, who frequently went on the scene of natural disasters and horrific events. He was also Superman. He’d seen destruction and death, he understood that it was better to help than to ignore the problem. The difference was that you were mortal, you needed the cigarettes and the alcohol as a cope, he didn’t. Plus, it was slowly killing you. He could see it. Literally, he could see inside your body. Your lungs and liver could be healthier. You were still young, so there was still time to change. “I wanna support you in any way I can.”

A tiny smile crossed your lips, “I… I like the sound of that. Clark, I like you, I really, really do. But I don’t want you to… I don’t want to drag you down with me.”

“You’re not dragging me down. He grabbed your hands, “Don’t think so lowly of yourself.”

You squeezed his hands, “I wanna show you something, it’s happier than this, I promise.”

He nodded. You didn’t let go of his hand as you got up, you led him to your bedroom and sat on the floor, next to your bed. He sat next to you as you dragged a big box of papers out from under your bed. “These are letters I’ve gotten from parents and social workers and kids.” You pulled a manilla envelope out, it had last year's date on it. “They’re all thank yous. Some of them have pictures of the kids I treated.” You pulled one out and handed it to Clark.

It was written by a man named Sam. He said that you had treated him for leukemia, and now he was a father and a business owner. He had pictures of him when he was in a hospital bed, a picture of the two of you together, and then a picture of him and his family.

You flipped through them, they were like trophies. Little reminders of your success. “It’s not all bad.”

Clark looked through the box as you reminisced. He found a black binder. He opened it, every letter was laminated. The first letter was from Olivia Quinton, in it she says her appendix burst and you treated her. Previously, you had treated her sister. But she wrote to you because she wanted to say thank you. She was born after her sister, and didn’t know her well. But she was so grateful for the care and extra consideration you treated her with. She said that her parents were extra hard on you, and when she tried to stop them you said that it was fair, that you understood. They originally wanted to switch surgeons but there wasn’t any time. You had kept her for the night and never left the hospital, even though she overheard you about to leave. He flipped through the rest of them gently, each patient or parent in it discussed how you had treated a previous person that they knew, whether they lived or died.

You looked over at Clark, “Those ones are special.”

“I can tell.” He smiled as he flipped through the letters and pictures. “You do a lot more good than harm.”

“Just like Superman.” You both laughed.

Chapter Text

“I have something to tell you… I’m Superman.” Clark unbuttoned his shirt and revealed the suit underneath… to the mirror. He was practicing. He knew he’d have to tell you eventually, you don’t just get into a relationship and hide something like this. You deserved to know. You had such an admiration of Superman, he had no idea how you’d react. You barely thought you were good enough for him. How would you feel knowing you were dating the most powerful creature- not human- on Earth. You always said Superman was the moral compass humanity should follow. Would you be mad at him? Would you even believe him? Clark Kent and Superman were completely different people. They were a mix of him; Superman had his personality and face, Clark had… his name. Well that wasn’t even true, his name his parents- not his human parents- gave him was Kal-El. He felt like he was catfishing you. This internal debate stretched on and on until he heard his phone ring. He looked down and smiled, you were calling him. He picked up after the second ring, “Hey beautiful.”

“Hey Clark, can you come over?”

He looked over his shoulder at the clock on the wall. It was almost 10PM, “Yeah, I can. You’re lucky, I just got off of work. Is something wrong?”

“I, uh… I just wanna see you. Rough day, ya know?” You mumbled into the phone.

He smiled, “Yeah, I’ll be over in 10.”

And 10 minutes later, you hear your doorbell. You sigh in relief before opening the door. Clark had some flowers in a vase for you, “Hi.” He stepped inside.

You wrapped your arms around him and practically melted into him. He smelled like newspapers and coffee. “Thank you.” You pulled away and took the vase. You didn’t remember telling him your favorite flowers, but there they were.

“I hope you like them, I had to guess what flowers you like.” He was lying, he had overheard you while you were at work. He didn’t like using his powers for anything other than protecting people, but he couldn’t help himself. Your voice, your heartbeat, it comforted him. If he was having trouble at work or if he was losing a fight, your voice gave him the motivation to keep going.

“They’re perfect, they’re my favorite, actually.” You put the vase on your kitchen counter.

You don’t know how you got here. You and Clark were just watching a movie and it’s like your mind went blank. You had no idea how you ended up sitting in his lap, or how you two had started making out. But you could care less. His hands were trembling as your mouths melted into each other’s. You were just as nervous as him, cigarettes aren’t known for tasting good. But he didn’t shy away. It felt good. His lips were so fucking soft, he was so gentle with you. He lightly squeezed your hips before he pulled away. You chased after his lips and whined.

Clark’s face was red but he wasn’t stopping. He curled his finger under your chin and tilted your head up gently. He slowly started kissing down your jaw and onto your neck. His kisses were soft, it felt like he was scared of breaking you. At least that’s what you thought until he bit down on the crook of your neck. You gasped, unintentionally trying to grind down on him. In return, he bucked his hips up.

He knows he should stop, he should stop and tell you he’s Superman. But he just couldn’t help himself. All your little moans and gasps were driving him insane. He couldn’t focus on anything but you. You were overflowing his senses, your smell, the taste of your skin, your touch. He looked up at you with those big puppy eyes, “Can I take this off?” He tugged at your shirt.

You giggled, “And here I thought you were shy.” You pulled your shirt off for him. Now it was his turn. Gentle hands ran up his clothed torso, stopping at the top button. You unbuttoned each one leisurely, exposing his chest and abs. “Oh my God Clark, I didn’t know you worked out.” He had little chest hair and a happy trail. Your eyes followed the trail down to the outline of his hard cock in his slacks. Your hands ran through his chest hair and went down, tracing the intents of his abs.

“Oh, y-yea, I try to go to the gym a few times a week.” His face was flushed, he wasn’t used to being admired.

Now that you thought about it, you haven’t seen his arms or legs. “Take it off.” He listened, pulling his shirt off his arms. His arms reflected his statement, the meaty muscle of his biceps and forearm immediately drew your attention. You kissed him again, his bulky arms wrapped around your bare waist. The skin to skin contact was intoxicating, you moaned into his mouth. Clark’s hands hesitantly move up to your bra, he slowly unclips it. You had to- unfortunately- pull away so he could fully take it off.

Clark’s heart was going a mile a minute, he had never gotten this far with anyone, let alone someone he felt so strongly about. You worried, “We can stop.”

“No! I mean,” He cleared his throat, “I would… like to keep going.” You covered your mouth, trying your hardest not to laugh at his sudden outburst. “Stop, don’t laugh,” He whined.

“I’m so sorry, I just didn’t know you wanted me so badly.” Your fingers ran through his curly hair before you tugged on it, “I mean, you want me, right?”

He didn’t break eye contact, “I want you.” You felt his cock throb under you.

“Yeah? Then show me.”

He only kissed your lips briefly before going down to your neck, then lower to your shoulders. He, very gently, laid you on your back on the couch. He climbed on top of you just to stick his mouth to your tits. His hand slipped under the hem of your pants and panties. He looked down, “God you’re so wet.” He used his x-ray vision to find your clit, his index finger started rubbing it up and down. His fingers slowly pushed into you and you moaned. His pace was slow, he was watching you. You grinded your hips down on his palm. You moaned his name. His name. He was starting to get light headed from all the blood rushing to his cock. He wanted to just pound into you, but he restrained himself. If he had to be honest, seeing you in any amount of pleasure was enough for him. He loved seeing you like, hearing you like this. He started going faster, watching your reaction intently.

You moaned louder. You covered your face, “Y-You’re staring at me.”

“How can I not, you’re so…” He curled your fingers and you gasped, “So perfect.” God how the tables turned, you could tell how much he was enjoying this. He stopped, now only rubbing your clit. “I’m gonna stop if you don’t let me see you.”

You groaned, pulling your hands off of your face and moving them down. You pulled your pants and underwear off in one motion. “Since you like staring so much.” It gave him something to look at that wasn’t your face. You spread your legs and Clark’s breath hitched. That definitely got his attention.

He looked back up at you, “Can I eat you out?” You nodded embarrassing fast. “Who’s needy now?” He smirked.

You rolled your eyes, “Haha, very funny. You should use your mouth for something other than talking.”

His big hands wrapped around your thighs, “Gladly.” He kissed the inside of your thighs, starting up at your knee and working his way down. He squeezed your thighs as he got closer.

You could feel his breath on your cunt before he slowly licked clit. You whined, your hands immediately running through his curly hair. You moaned his name again and he kept going. His tongue was flat against your pussy. He flicked his tongue over your clit and you tugged on his hair. He would switch what he was doing frequently, he went from tonguing your clit to pushing his tongue inside of you, to sucking on your clit. Your thighs squeezed your face as you pushed his head down. At times like these, he’s thankful he can hold his breath for hours. He wasn’t coming up for air anytime soon with the way you sounded and tasted. He drank you up like he was dying of thirst.

Now it was his turn. His boxers had a wet spot near his tip, he was leaking. And he was so big, it almost made you nervous. He slid off his boxers, his cock bounced free. He was still leaking, his tip was a light pink. The veins that ran down his cock pulsed as his cock twitched. He grabbed his dick and rubbed the head over your clit and hole a few times before slowly pushing himself inside. Every inch was a glorious mix of pleasure and pain. Your head tilted back and you moaned.

He held onto your hips as he pushed himself balls deep. His cock was so big, his tip kissing your cervix . He wanted to fuck you roughly, thrust as fast and hard as he could, but he had to control himself. It was hard, the sight of you, the smell of sex, the sound of your moaning and whimpering, everything was driving him insane. He leaned down and started kissing your neck, he whispered sweet praise against your skin. “You’re doing so good, beautiful, you’re taking me so well.” He started doing little thrusts at a steady pace, pulling out just to push back in and then grinding when he got balls deep.

You moaned, thoroughly enjoying the sluggish pace he set up. It just all felt so intimate. “Kiss me,” you whined. And Clark was delighted to. It was sloppy. Noses were pressed against cheeks and your lips didn’t move as in sync as they did before. He could see you unraveling, and he was addicted. He picked up his pace, he started going faster. One of your hands traveled up to his curly hair while the other traveled down to his waist. Your nails dug into the hard muscle of his back. He let out a gratifying moan. He readjusted, putting his hands at your sides so he could better position himself to fuck you. He didn’t want to hold back anymore, and you didn’t want him to either. God he loved having this amount of stamina, he wasn’t even getting tired as he was fucking you faster. And how could he?The way you gasped as he went faster, the way your tits bounced with every thrust, the way your pussy got even tighter for him. The sound, too, the sound of his cock moving in and out of your wet cunt. When he looked up from your tits he noticed you were drooling, your eyes were rolled into the back of your head. You were focused on the pure pleasure of it.

He chuckled, his head dipped down and he left hickey, after hickey, after hickey on your neck. “So fucking good, so fucking perfect,” He moaned as he rutted into you. He wasn’t going to last much longer, his thrusts were getting sloppy and his grip on the sheets was getting tighter.

“Please, my clit,” You whimpered. He stopped thrusting, just for a second, readjusting his position again so he wasn’t looming over you. His thumb started rubbing slow circles on your clit as he started thrusting again. You cried out, trying to warn him about how close you were but you were already cumming. Your walls fluttered around him before clenching down as you came hard.

He fucked you through your orgasim, still rubbing your clit. He was going to pull out, but your legs were wrapped tight around his torso. He came deep inside of you, his cum spilling out of you. He dipped back down and kissed your neck, making his way up to your mouth. You two stayed like that for a minute, just enjoying the moment. When your legs unraveled from his torso, he pulled out. You looked down, his cock was still hard.

“Can I spend the night?”

Clark’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you into his chest. He kissed the back of your head, “Good morning,” He hummed. He was so warm.

“Good morning,” You yawned, “No work?”

“No work. I called out sick.” He smiled against your skin.

“Mmm really? Just for me?”

“You’re worth it.” He kept kissing your neck, “I really did a number on you last night. I didn’t think I left that many hickeys.”

“Well at least everyone gets to know I’m getting laid.” You smiled, “I dunno, I kind of like it. All these marks all over.” You rolled over so you were facing him. He still had his glasses on, you laughed. “You never took them off?”

His hair was a little messy and he was still shirtless. His broad shoulders had a few hickeys on them. “I, uh, wanted to see you. Clearly.” And also the fact that his face looks completely different without his glasses.

“Aww, you’re sweet.” You kissed him. This bastard, he looked perfect. He didn’t even have any morning breath. He scooped you up so you were on top of him. You kissed him again. There was this morning haze lingering, you were both still sleepy, everything you did reflected that. You kissed each other slowly, almost lazily. “I could get used to you staying the night.” You kissed his cheek and settled your head under his chin.

“Thank you, by the way. For letting me stay the night.”

“And… nothing else comes to your mind to thank me for?” You looked up at him.

Just the memory made him groan softly, “Thank you… for the sex. You were amazing.” He kissed your head.