Chapter Text
Lena reheats their dinner in the microwave.
Kara could do it herself, she knows, and her heat vision would likely make for a much quicker process, but Kara doesn’t offer. It isn’t that she doesn’t want Lena to see, not really, it’s just that Lena is inquisitive by nature, curious and bright, and Kara thinks such an obvious show of her superpowers might pique Lena’s imagination, might encourage her to ask questions. Kara wants to answer them, of course she does, and she would be glad to indulge Lena’s scientific interest another time -- even thinks she might enjoy sharing with Lena all that her race has become on Earth and all that Krypton had once been known for in the galaxy -- but Kara is feeling a little bit selfish, and she doesn’t want to get into it tonight.
Tonight, the only two things Kara wants to partake in are a long-overdue supper, and the taste of Lena’s skin lingering at her lips.
They start with the food first, but it isn’t enough, could never be enough, at least not for Kara. The Kryptonian’s hands are eager and determined, borderline greedy, and they stray frequently in the process, seeking Lena out and keeping her close. Kara still feels so grateful, still feels that Lena’s acceptance of her is such a miracle that it might could be a dream, and Kara can’t bear to be apart from the reminder that Lena is real, that she’s allowing Kara to stay, that Lena is still choosing Kara over any doubts she might have.
Kara doesn’t try very hard to resist the urge, she admits, brushing against Lena at every opportunity she’s presented with. The superhero curls her palm over Lena’s waist as they move around each other in the kitchen, sweeps Lena’s dark hair behind her ear just because she wants to, just because Lena lets her, just because Kara can, and then grazes her fingers lightly across Lena’s as she accepts the drinks and chopsticks to take to the table.
The youngest Luthor steals shy, wonder-filled glimpses at Kara from the corner of her eye as they eat.
Lena probably thinks that Kara doesn’t notice, probably believes that she is being far more subtle than she actually is, but Kara dissuades her of that notion as kindly as she can, uses a subtle burst of superspeed to catch Lena in the act. Kara smiles at her, tender and charmed, presses a swift, adoring kiss to the CEO’s mouth before Lena ever has time to be embarrassed, nuzzles her nose over the tip of Lena’s twice and drops a kiss there, too, inspired by a fleeting impulse.
“Your food is going to get cold,” Kara reminds her on a playful whisper.
The CEO chuckles quietly and shakes her head, absently pushes her plate to the side, anxiously glances upward to match darkened blue-green eyes to Kara’s blue, cheeks colored with a pretty pink flush. “I’m not very hungry, and I find I’m a little impatient. I’m always happy to share your company, Kara, but there are other ways I’d like to be sharing it tonight, self-serving as that may sound.”
Kara hums her understanding but sighs, presses cool lips into the warmth of Lena’s skin, breathes a gentle but firm reply into the Luthor’s jaw. “You need to eat, Lena. You forget often enough during the day, but I can at least make sure that you eat a decent dinner. Besides,” the superhero says, a sharp bolt of heat in her eyes and a soft rasp in her throat, “if you plan to be ‘sharing my company,’ then you’re going to need the energy… I’m a Super, remember?” Kara suggests coyly, smiles with pleasure and approval when Lena’s pupils blow wide, a trembling palm slowly reaching for her rejected plate of food.
The reporter has three more servings but still finishes before Lena, so she stands to clean her dish, flicks her fingers through Lena’s hair just once along the way, throws a couple food cartons in the garbage and tucks whatever is left into the refrigerator. Kara takes her time, she doesn’t want to rush Lena, wants to take care of her and enjoys the delight of satisfaction that it gives her, but even Kara’s patience is wearing thin by the time Lena drops her empty plate in the sink.
“You finished it all,” Kara beams proudly. And then, “Good girl.”
Kara doesn’t mean to say it. It sort of slips away from her, a natural response to Lena completing a task that she hadn’t been interested in, even something as small as finishing a meal, just because Kara had asked it of her. It’s likely the result of all the research Kara has been doing lately, the consequence of Kara’s commitment to becoming a good dom for Lena and knowing how well the youngest Luthor responds to praise, but that isn’t something that they’ve talked about, not yet.
The Kryptonian turns, shifts to face Lena and study her reaction, catches it when Lena hisses a surprised breath of air between her teeth and the Luthor’s fingers pale over the countertop she reaches for to steady herself.
“Oh.”
Kara spreads her hand overtop of Lena’s on the counter to gather her attention, cradles Lena’s jaw in her palm, waits for Lena’s gaze to meet with Kara’s own and quietly murmurs, “I should have asked if that was something you would enjoy. I’m sorry,” Kara bites her lip, anxious, gnaws gently for a moment as Lena’s cheeks turn ruddy. “It was alright, though?” Kara braves cautiously. “You liked that?”
The CEO laughs, dark and raspy, low, and the change in Lena’s voice, the throaty, desire-driven husk of it spears a white-hot lance of want deep through Kara’s stomach. “I loved it, Kara. Thank you.”
Kara nods, but thinks that there are a lot of things she and Lena haven’t had an opportunity to discuss yet, a lot of really important things, big things, like limits and safe words and expectations. It’s all part of a conversation that Kara doesn’t trust herself to give full consideration to right now, emotionally exhausted as she is, but Kara isn’t quite as socially inept as some people believe, and she knows that her relationship with Lena is about to become significantly more intimate.
The superhero doesn’t want Lena to think that she is being careless, knows that she needs to acknowledge the conversation that she and Lena are decidedly not going to have tonight, but she needs to be clear, needs to make sure that Lena understands before they progress any further.
“There’s a talk we need to have,” Kara begins, hushed. “A talk about what you need from me, what you like and don’t like… I want us to go over those lists you made for me, soon, but- truthfully, Lena, I think we’ve both had a pretty emotional night already, and I’d like to table that conversation for another time. Are you comfortable with that?”
“Whatever you want, Kara,” Lena breathes willingly, but it’s the wrong answer, it’s the opposite of what Kara needs to hear, so the superhero sighs, soft but impatient, and carefully withdraws. Lena looks confused, the thread of desire in her eyes clearing briefly for a tendril of fear, and Kara doesn’t want that, knows it’s her job to fix it, to make Lena realize what Kara really means to ask her.
“I didn’t ask you what I want, Lena,” Kara explains softly but firmly, remains just out of Lena’s reach but holds eye contact to make sure that the Luthor is paying close attention. “I asked if you were comfortable with it. It’s important to me to know how you’re feeling, so I need you to tell me the truth. You’re trusting me to care for you in a way that makes you extremely vulnerable to me, and I want to make it good for you. Lena, I want to make sure that you enjoy yourself, that you get what you need out of it, and if I’m going to do that, then you have to tell me what you’re comfortable with, especially when I make it a point to ask. Do you understand, Lee?”
“I’m comfortable,” Lena promises on a rush of flattered breath. “You’re very sweet, Kara, and I appreciate your concern, but I can honestly say that I’ve never felt as comfortable with another person as I do with you. I’m glad that we’re still going to have that conversation -- I do think that it’s important and I’m grateful you see it that way, too -- but I think- I think that tonight, all I really need is to feel you close to me,” Lena confesses quietly.
Kara briefly rests her eyes, tries to gather herself, tries to push past every image that so swiftly surges to mind of all the ways Kara wants to be close to Lena, all the ways she wants to touch her and feel her and worship her. The effort feels nothing short of Herculean, but Kara tries, she does her best, grits her teeth and releases a slow, forced breath, rustling at the tension that clamors to life in her shoulders.
“Are you familiar with the traffic light system?” Kara asks roughly, her voice a dark shadow of what it typically sounds like, odd even to Kara’s own ears, but only part of Kara can bring herself to care.
“Red means that I’d like for you to stop,” Lena whispers in explanation, stretches a palm toward Kara’s wrist that never lands, just wavers tentatively in the air, because Kara doesn’t have the strength to have Lena’s hands on her without bodily responding and Kara needs to hear that Lena understands first, needs to hear that Lena knows she can bring everything to a halt if she decides that’s what she wants, so Kara doesn’t grant permission for Lena’s touch when Lena glances upward to find it. “Yellow means slow down, that I’m overwhelmed or unsure. Green means that I’m okay, I’m alright with everything you’re doing and we can keep moving forward.”
Kara tries to hold back, keep some of herself restrained, but all the superhero can think of is what Lena will soon look like, breathless and flushed and pushed to the brink of orgasm, breaking beautifully beneath Kara’s dedicated attention. Kara is keenly aware of the fact that there’s nothing stopping her from finding out, not anymore, no shielded fears or secrets urging Kara to keep her distance.
Plus, there’s an eager, desperate plea burning hot in Lena’s eyes and Kara wants so badly to answer it, so she does.
The reporter reaches her in two quick steps, takes Lena’s hips in her palms, tight and firm, descends on her with a deep, unrestricted kiss. Kara is more aggressive than she’s been with Lena in the past, rougher than Lena’s become used to because Kara doesn’t need to hide her strength anymore and a new, secret part of her wants Lena to feel it, feels proud and validated when Lena gasps a startled, helpless little noise in reply. Kara capitalizes on it, dives her tongue into Lena’s mouth and even impresses herself with the hot, filthy lick she sweeps along the length of Lena’s tongue.
It draws a moan from Lena’s throat, makes the Luthor push closer into Kara, but Kara still thinks it isn’t close enough, still wants to feel more of her, so the superhero slides one palm to Lena’s thigh. She uses quick, agile fingers to raise the hem of Lena’s gorgeous, midnight blue dress and lifts her, encourages the CEO to coil her legs around Kara’s waist with the alien’s hand possessively splayed across Lena’s bare, delicate skin. Kara groans at the added pressure over her hips and tugs her teeth along Lena’s lower lip, swallows the Luthor’s choked sound of pleasure as it tumbles from her parted mouth.
“Color,” Kara demands between kisses, moves down Lena’s jaw with swift lips and a soothing tongue so that Lena is able to respond.
“Christ, Kara, green,” Lena insists vehemently, fingers weaving through Kara’s blonde hair, and when she pulls, tries to guide Kara’s mouth back toward her own, Kara bites sharply into Lena’s tender skin, a wordless reminder that she is in control because Lena has asked her to be, that Kara is responsible for taking care of her and that she will, but Kara can do it however she wants, as long as Lena’s color is still green.
“Where’s your room?” Kara murmurs into Lena’s throat, moans in time with Lena as the youngest Luthor’s hips press forward, damp heat dragging along the hard muscle of Kara’s abdomen.
Lena flings a hand behind her, offering Kara a general but very distracted direction, and however vague the response might be, Kara follows it. She doesn’t bother with the jostling involved in walking, instead chooses to fly, eventually finds a single door down the hall and pushes through it. She briefly glimpses a California king with swirling gray and black patterns on the duvet and several matching pillows, but Kara really isn’t interested in the decor and doesn’t pay much attention beyond that.
The mewling, precious creature wrapped around Kara’s waist is far more important, far more worthy of Kara’s devotion, so Kara lowers the youngest Luthor onto the bed and follows her up. The reporter forces herself to breathe, to slow things down, to appreciate all that Lena is offering and remind herself to cherish it accordingly. It’s hard, though, it’s almost impossible, because Lena looks like a painting, looks like she should be immortalized on canvas for eternity only for Kara to see, Lena looks like everything, and Kara wants to take it all, to cradle it in her palms and selfishly hoard it from the world.
The Luthor’s cheeks are glowing with a lovely, feverish sort of blush, loose raven hair spilling out around her ears, red, kiss-swollen lips split open on the edge of a sigh, still waiting for Kara’s to find them all over again. Kara could weep at how exquisite she looks like this, could burn through entire galaxies with the strength of her adoration, the overwhelming tenderness and affection so powerful that Kara’s alien heart aches for it.
“Zrhueiao.”
The Kryptonian word falls from Kara’s mouth because the English one is hard for her to find, lost somewhere behind a million thoughts of Lena and how heart-stoppingly gorgeous, how absolutely flawless she is, spread out and vulnerable and all for Kara. There’s no way that Lena can understand it, no way for Lena to translate the word, but she must hear the layers and layers of sheer, swelling emotion in Kara’s remark, regardless, because Kara watches as Lena’s eyes tear, watches as she stretches up to lean on one elbow, subtle muscles in her arm flexing to hold her weight and her opposite palm reaching toward Kara, hovering over her cheek until Kara smiles, nods her consent.
The superhero nestles into Lena’s gentle touch, presses a kiss to the center of her palm and closes her own fingers over Lena’s, holding the pair of them lightly against her face. “Beautiful,” Kara whispers earnestly, answers the unasked question because it will make Lena feel good to know, because Kara likes to make Lena feel good, and because Kara has no reason to hide it from her. “I said that you’re beautiful.”
Lena demurely averts her eyes but beams with a sweet, bashful pleasure, and Kara chuckles warmly, drops Lena’s hand to tip her chin upward with two fingers, to bring Lena’s gaze back to Kara’s own. “You’re perfect, actually. I’m privileged to be with you this way. Thank you, Lena,” Kara insists softly, needs Lena to hear how grateful, how humbled she is that Lena trusts her like this.
“I’m-- Kara, sometimes I’m not sure how to respond to the things you say to me,” Lena sighs a complicated noise, muddled and wet, mildly tinged with frustration. “You have a natural gift with words, that much is obvious, but you’re always so sincere, so honest, and it- it often makes me want to cry,” Lena shakes her head weakly. “How do I follow that? No words I can offer could even begin to compare.”
“I just want you to know how special you are, Lena,” Kara says, quiet, and reassuring. “I was impatient, earlier,” she admits quietly. “There are so many things I want to do with you, I’ve imagined it so many times, and I think I got a little carried away. I started too fast. I just want to make sure that you know what this means to me, that I’m honored you want me for this.”
“Kara, please,” Lena whines, eyes dark and fingers trembling at Kara’s cheek. “Kiss me.”
The Kryptonian laughs, soft and light, tenderly amused, leans closer toward Lena and presses a kiss into her cheek, her ear, murmurs breathily, “Well, I suppose so… You did ask very nicely,” she teases, and slowly tracks her way back to the Luthor’s mouth.
This kiss is slow and soul-searching, so deeply intimate in the way that Kara so often craves, and the superhero feels her heart begin to thrash, feels every cell in her body shake to life and light on fire. It feels like Kara’s first day on Earth, like the first time she’d spent a full day doing nothing but bathing in its yellow sun, her powers at full-strength and her senses completely heightened, but this time completely focused on nothing but Lena.
The youngest Luthor does as she always does, Lena follows Kara’s lead, and Kara tries her very hardest to guide Lena somewhere safe, somewhere new, for the CEO, somewhere she is cherished and worshiped and wanted above all else. Kara gently lifts them into the air and doesn’t think that Lena even notices, not at first, not until the part where Kara slips her fingers to the zipper of Lena’s dress, just beneath the blades of her shoulders, and begins to tug it downward.
Lena hums a muted sound of pleasure at the initiative, but Kara isn’t finished, keeps pulling until the line stops and spares only a moment to enjoy the low noise of the metal zip scraping pleasantly against her superpowered ears. She raises her fingers to the flex of Lena’s biceps where the edge of the material just barely holds the rest of the dress to Lena’s frame, digs her fingers slightly underneath and pauses, breaks away from Lena’s mouth to drop a sweet kiss over a pale, bare shoulder.
“Color?” Kara whispers breathily.
Lena pants, raises her fingers just above Kara’s ribs and squeezes gently, reassuring and adamant, “Green. I'm good, Kara. I want-- Please, keep going…”
Kara does.
The superhero grazes her fingers down the soft muscle of Lena’s arms, tracks the material of the dress down with her touch, refuses to even blink as Lena is finally revealed for her. Kara moves slowly, teases Lena and herself, crawling over each inch of Lena newly exposed, drawing gooseflesh over Lena’s skin.
The youngest Luthor had apparently forgone a bra that morning, probably because the dress is frankly too tight to allow for one, but Kara isn’t complaining. Lena’s breasts are exposed first, full and dusted with pretty, small pink nipples, a single mole at the soft curve of the swell on the left side. Her stomach is toned, flat, visibly trembling beneath the heat of Kara’s attention, and as the dress falls to the floor, abandoned, Kara lowers Lena back to the bed and groans at the sight of her.
Lena is bare but for the small triangle of deep purple lace hiding Lena’s sex away from Kara and the black power heels still strapped to her feet, and the alien swears she’s never seen a thing so gorgeous, has never borne witness to such wicked splendor and grace and divinity.
“Kara…” Lena suggests, her voice tinged with a shy, subtle whine, encouraging Kara to move, to do something with the body on display for her instead of just staring at it, causing Lena to squirm, but Kara isn’t ready.
“Hush,” Kara chides absently, still quiet, still leisurely absorbing Lena’s image and taking her in, unwilling to allow Lena’s impatience to rush her. “I want to look at you.”
Lena’s cheeks burn swiftly in answer to the admonishment, red-painted lips quickly sealing together, blue-green eyes ducking to the left, and something deep inside of Kara, something powerful and demanding, thrills at Lena’s instinctively submissive reaction. Kara tilts her head to the side, evaluates the depth of that feeling, the sharpness of it, considers carefully what she’d like to do with it.
Kara nods, decisive, strips herself of clothing in a whirlwind of superspeed, but diligently ignores Lena’s strangled gasp in reply and swats purposefully at Lena’s palm when she tries to reach for Kara’s skin.
“I’ve dreamed of tying you up,” Kara tells her mutedly, smiles knowingly as Lena whimpers, low and aching. “I think you’d be so pretty that way, Lena -- pulling against a pair of handcuffs, or some rope, your cheeks all flushed the way that they are right now,” Kara whispers, kneeling at the foot of the bed, grazing her lips lightly across Lena’s ankles as she tugs gently at her heels, carefully lining them up just to make Lena wait a little bit longer, superpowered ears catching every choked noise that Lena tries to stifle. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve imagined it, Lee, how badly I’ve wanted to see it…”
Kara stretches upward, fingertips pushing slowly up the length of Lena’s calves, swirling gently beneath her knees as the reporter lowers a kiss over each cap on her ascent, increases pressure as she rises to Lena’s soft thighs, tugs deep purple lace down and down until it falls away. Kara chances a glance upward, finds Lena clean-shaven and deliciously, visibly wet, all for Kara, with desperation in pretty blue-green eyes and a pant dying at her lips, and, oh, Kara likes this look on Lena even more than she’d thought.
“I’d lay in bed at night with my hand over my stomach, and I’d think about touching myself as I pictured the way you might look. It was so hard not to, you know,” she muses and pulls herself further up the bed, spreads out at Lena’s side, mimics the image she creates for the youngest Luthor as she drops her palm over Lena’s stomach. “It would’ve been so easy, I’d have come so quickly,” Kara shares brazenly, watches Lena’s eyes burn dark as her hips rustle, abdomen arching gently into Kara’s touch until the superhero pinches lightly at her side in warning. “I never did, though. I always told myself that it would make it so much better, for when you could finally do it for me. But that’s not what I want tonight,” she whispers playfully and withdraws her touch, props herself up with the pillows at the head of the bed.
Lena mewls in distress, but Kara shushes her again.
“I’ll take care of you, Lena,” she vows earnestly. “I promised I would, didn’t I?”
“Yes,” Lena breathes, carefully still, dark eyes tracking over Kara’s skin but palms never reaching out to feel, chagrined by her previous mistake.
“Good girl,” Kara murmurs appreciatively, feels Lena tremble at the praise and smiles fondly. “Come here for me?” Kara requests, but a darker undercurrent makes it clear that it is more of an instruction, more of a demand than the questioning lilt might typically imply.
Lena’s brows furrow in askance, confused, so Kara makes herself more clear.
“I want you to straddle me, Lena.”
The youngest Luthor moves like a panther, slow and smooth and graceful, and Kara hums with pleasure as her thighs part over Kara’s waist. The superhero reaches for her hips, holds Lena firm above her, just for a moment, then Kara tugs, pulls Lena down hard, wet heat pressing into the muscle of Kara’s abs without allowing Lena time to prepare.
Lena moans, loud, surprised, and Kara leans upward to swallow the noise, feels it vibrate against her lips as her tongue maps out Lena’s mouth. Kara tugs again, harder, encourages a repetitive flex of Lena’s hips until Lena understands to follow along. The Luthor’s back arches, thrusts picking up speed, and Kara’s palm slinks up between Lena's full breasts to delicately cradle the fragile human’s throat, adds a tiny, near minuscule measure of pressure, just enough to indicate what Kara wants.
Kara doesn’t want there to be any confusion, though, she wants to be clear, wants to make sure Lena understands, so she tears her mouth away and murmurs, “I want to hear you try to gasp, I want to watch your eyes roll back into your head because you can’t breathe when you come for me. I want to choke you, Lena. Is that something you’d like to try with me?”
“Focáil,” Lena hisses with an arch of her hips.
It’s Gaelic, Kara recognizes distantly. She’s heard the word before, long ago in a pod floating through space as Kryptonian technology taught Kara all of the known languages of Earth, but the word is vulgar, translates to English as fuck, and it doesn’t answer Kara’s question in the least, so she bites harshly into Lena’s jaw and stills her with a pointed look.
“Watch your mouth, Lena. I asked you a question,” she reminds the CEO, shredded gravel in her throat, because even though Kara told Lena to watch her language, even though Kara still needs an answer, the swear sounds guttural and desperate on Lena’s tongue, and Kara likes that she inspired it, likes that she’s reduced Lena to her native language, likes that the always-poised Luthor has fallen back on an undignified curse because of Kara’s touch.
“Green,” Lena insists in adamant reply. “Yes, please, Kara. Please.”
So Kara nods, tightens her fingers to just the human point of pain over Lena’s throat and very nearly comes as Lena’s eyes droop half-closed, as Lena’s cunt streaks a burning trail across Kara’s quivering stomach.
Lena is too wet to last very long, Kara knows. It’s what Kara wanted, what she’d imagined when she’d beckoned Lena over top of her. Kara had wanted Lena so ready for her, so wanting that she’d fall apart without Kara’s fingers or mouth ever touching her wet heat, without folding over her breasts or nipping at their sensitive peaks. Kara had wanted the power of that, of knowing that she could do that for Lena, to her, and as Kara’s opposite palm exerts her superstrength and speed to move Lena’s hips more roughly, grinding her muscle into Lena’s sex, Kara finds her wish granted even sooner than she’d expected.
The youngest Luthor is even more beautiful as she comes, somehow even more flushed and even more perfect, breaths struggling as Kara’s fingers loosen to accommodate. Lena’s eyes are dazed, murky with pleasure and satisfaction and awe, tears burning at their corners, and everything in Kara instinctively softens for her.
“I’ve got you, Lee,” Kara promises as the first rivulet crashes over Lena’s pinkened cheek. Kara shifts Lena effortlessly to the side so that she can go to her, fold Lena up in her arms and comb soothing fingers through long raven hair, tears wetting the skin over Kara’s heart. “Sh, I’ve got you. It’s alright. You did so well for me, you were such a good girl, Lena. I’m so proud of you,” Kara murmurs assurances and praise and every comforting thing she can think of into Lena’s ear, feels the Luthor trembling with emotional excess over top of her.
Kara has read about the importance of aftercare, has read about the crash that submissives sometimes experience in the wake of a particularly powerful scene or orgasm. Kara isn’t worried, not really, knows that it’s normal and necessary and good for Lena to allow herself a moment to feel cared for, to feel like she’s been good, to know that she’s made Kara happy and know that Kara will guide her through.
The Kryptonian is wet and throbbing and has waited for this for so long, has waited to feel Lena’s touch and Lena’s mouth in all of her most sensitive places, and Kara’s barely gotten started with her, but Lena’s emotional needs are far more important, Kara knows, and one more night of waiting won’t kill her.
“Good girl,” Kara whispers over and over again, until Lena falls asleep pressed tight against her, Kara’s arms holding her snug, the alien’s mouth tucked reverently into Lena’s hair. “You did so well.”