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shankieTaking a complete 180 from the last piece, is.. heh. This. An experiment in satire, with porn thrown in. Taking any of it seriously might be hazardous to your health. XD
The Secrets of the Tenth Floor Supply Closet
Jimmy/Clark, NC-17: language, sex, and unexpected virginity.
4,000+ words
A hunt for a box of pornography ends with a little more than just a couple magazines and DVDs, but not without embarassment as the Daily Planet globe turns...
Jimmy Olsen’s porn collection was legendary.
Not legendary in the way that would ever be repeated without a grin or a snicker, but ever since a few of the guys in the art department helped him move a year back, it was all downhill from there. It’s reported size went up about once a month, and a new face would be introduced to Jimmy (behind his back, of course) as having a fixation with Superman that occasionally rivaled Lois Lane herself, and that he could fill a garden shed floor to ceiling with everything from Hustler to hardcore BDSM DVDs.
Speculation was rampant as to the possible size of his hard drive. Jimmy was just glad they only found the girlie mags.
The rest had been stashed under Clark Kent’s desk, only to be gone the next day.
Over a year, and still, Jimmy had yet to work up the courage to ask Clark if he’d done something with his collection of gay porn, and Clark was the sort of guy that would blush at seeing a little too much cleavage, so he was sure they’d been discreetly tossed out and Clark was still trying to forget the whole thing had ever happened. He’d have already dropped the matter as a loss, but after all…
Porn is expensive.
Perhaps not as discreetly as he could, Jimmy rushed off as Clark attempted one of his vanishing acts while everyone else was looking at the monitors, chased him out into the hall and promptly lost sight of him.
The hall was silent, save a shutting door that signaled his quarry, so Jimmy ran towards it, and flung open the door to find he was looking in a supply closet with the lights out and the window open. He didn’t even know there’d been a window in here (or why there would be) but there it was, blinds up and letting in wind from updraft.
Jimmy ran to it and looked out to see Superman flying away, and was suitably astonished at the revelation.
Clark’s clothes, which smelled like Old Spice, were neatly folded on a shelf next to bundles of thirty-six rolls of toilet paper and only made it all more inevitable and poignant in a way he decided to remember as a real subdued kind of way or representing a shed self for his next article (which he hoped would be printed, but he was batting about nineteen out of twenty rejected) and also told him that Clark would be coming back for them. The image of naked Superman drifted through his mind like a passing bird, and he shook his head as if to reset his brain to a less erotic channel.
So Jimmy decided that the best thing to do at this point would be to either wait, seeing as he now had a significant amount of leverage with which to blackmail back his porn, or he could run off like a scared little girl and never speak of the event ever again. Ever.
After all, this was Superman, and sure he’s a great guy and all, but he’s also Superman.
Jimmy had a few inappropriate thoughts about Nietzche, and a stiffie, and before he could consider which path would lead to less embarrassment and possibly looking for a new job, he hid behind a stack of printer paper and there he was.
Superman landed gracefully on the floor, which was pretty amazing considering the size of the window he was using, but there seemed to be no hunching or wiggling involved.
“Darn,” Clark muttered, and began rummaging through his clothes in a surprisingly ordinary-looking set of actions.
It was at this point Jimmy’s brain allowed him to finally accept, with all acceptance and all that, the fact of Superman actually being a reporter who spilled his coffee all over himself at least once per day like it was a requirement of the job. Living in Metropolis was the sort of thing that allowed for one to learn not to think too hard about the bizarre, but now it was a little inevitable and shortly approaching the sort of thing that could become an obsession. And join Jimmy’s little mental collection of obsessions, with its own pedestal and everything.
The most important fact at this point was not the powers or anything, but that Clark Kent was built like a gladiator under all that bumble. Which was approaching one of the hottest things about any of Jimmy’s co-workers to date, and quickly overtook Cat’s legs once he actually started putting on his slacks, one leg at a time, and pulling all his clothes on at once in a kind of half-hazard fashion that normal people do. People that don’t fly, that is.
Jimmy almost didn’t notice that his nose was getting itchy, and Clark looked up sharply as the stack of paper sneezed and fell over.
At least they were in bundles, so there was no danger of paper cuts as Jimmy tried to extricate himself in a way one does in front of someone that impresses the heck out of them (and their secret longings for kinky monkey sex) and Clark swallowed audibly.
“Um…” Clark looked down at himself and turned away as if he was actually in a state of undress to finish putting his pants on.
“Er… hey… C.K…” Jimmy decided he might need therapy, because being terrified was turning a stiffie into a raging hardon.
Clark pretended not to notice.
“So, about this…”
“What? I didn’t see anything, no siree bob, not me. Not a thing, not a thing… but… um…”
“What? Oh. Um.”
They stared at each other for a moment, and Jimmy considered that Clark drew a striking resemblance to this guy he’d seen in some old movie but couldn’t remember the name of. Without his glasses on, anyway.
“I was, just, uh, looking for something.” Jimmy nodded as if it were a fundamental truth.
“I might… be able to… help.” Clark wasn’t really sure if he meant the tented pants or whatever Jimmy was looking for, or if there was a difference, and neither did Jimmy.
“I lost my porn.”
If they were in the sort of place where crickets would have chirped, they undoubtedly would have been pulling a solo performance, but as it was, they had to settle for the sound of the air conditioning system, which reminded Clark that he’d left the window open. So he closed it, finished dressing, and cleared his throat meaningfully, but without being entirely certain of the exact meaning he wanted to convey.
Jimmy was passing smitten and the exit to infatuation was coming up fast.
How could he help it? Seriously, it was Clark Kent, charmingly befuddled cutie with the kind of face that made you want to tell him everything that had ever troubled you to be magicked away, only now it was all angular and hard and the garnish on a beefcake platter of…
“Porn?” Clark asked, as if the pause had never happened and he was asking about extra printer cartridges.
“Yes.” Jimmy nodded again and wondered if his face was closer to scarlet or crimson, and what exactly that difference would be anyway. “Under your desk.”
Clark had visions of terribly dirty things and Jimmy thought of the exact same things, but instead thought they were marvelously dirty things that had little to do with a cardboard box of videos and magazines.
“You’re looking for that… in the closet?”
“You have no idea,” Jimmy replied a little too quickly.
More staring ensued, followed by a couple polite coughs of torturous mental discomfort.
“I… uh… I think, um, I owe you…” A blowjob? “An explanation.”
“Oh.” Jimmy hoped this was one of those metaphorical way of putting things like writers tended to do, but it seemed unlikely at this point. “About?”
Clark pointed to his chest, now at a blue tie he was adjusting over and over like someone that had never done it before, and it took Jimmy a second to realize exactly what he meant by that.
Oh yeah. That whole Superman thing. Jimmy didn’t really feel very surprised anymore, if he really had at all. It had been more like shock and awe than being genuinely startled, and he figured that maybe on the inside James Olsen wasn’t as dumb as he looked. Maybe.
"No, no, you can keep on doing... your thing... here. I won't say a word. Not a breath. Nada." Jimmy flattened out his hands to emphasize just how little he meant by 'nada' which was really nothing.
Clark began edging his way towards the door.
"I, uh, actually, the porn? It uh, wasn't in here. It was under your desk."
"Really? When?"
"Like, a year ago?"
"What did it look like?"
"It was a box of gay porn, what do you think it looks like?"
For a second, Jimmy almost thought he did hear crickets this time. Clark began backing towards doorknob more resolutely.
"Sorry, never saw it," Clark said quickly, turned the knob, and rushed out into the hallway with what might have been a look of fear. From Superman? No way. But the evidence was there.
Eventually, Jimmy looked out the door, checked the hallway, and snuck out, shutting it carefully. As far as he was concerned? This never happened. Clark Kent was not at all super-powerful, the porn never existed.
Apparently, Clark felt the same way. For some time, he'd look a little uncomfortable, tug on his tie, cross his legs shiftily, even drop things when Jimmy was around, but the event was never spoken of.
A cup of coffee met an untimely end and Jimmy sighed. "Clark, we should maybe..." What would Oprah advise in this sort of moment? "Talk."
"About?" Clark looked up, his hair a little messy, his glasses a little lopsided and bent, an inevitable stain on his ever so slightly wrinkled shirt, tie crooked. He looked... well... he looked cute.
Hero-worship of this guy had morphed into something very, very different than it used to be. "This really has to stop."
Clark stopped pretending he didn't know what Jimmy was talking about and, damn his hide, he blushed. "I take my, ah, lunch break on the roof sometimes."
"I'll meet you there." Jimmy didn't mean to wink when he said it, really, he didn't. But he totally did. Then turned and walked away before he could see how Clark reacted, because they weren't ready for that sort of thing.
Ready? He was taking this really seriously. "I mean," he mumbled to himself, plucking his camera-strap, "he's totally into me. And I'm totally into him." Two and two still equaled four, right?
If it did or not, Clark was on the roof at noon, standing right on the edge like he'd done it a million times, which, of course, he must have, being... well, being Superman. His tie fluttered in the updraft, pulling away from a gold tie-pin on his white shirt. He wasn't wearing his glasses.
Jimmy's knees went weak.
"God you're gorgeous," he whispered, then realized Clark could hear him, could always hear him and everyone else, and always pretended he didn't.
X-ray vision.
Clark walked over to the platform under the giant brass globe, sat down and waited for Jimmy to do the same, up on the sun-warmed concrete. Was he warmer now? Must be the seat.
"So," Clark began, coughed uncomfortably. "It's in my closet. I should have done more to find out who it belonged to, but I wrestled it away from a janitor and, well... I was going to tell you, I just... well... I was... kinda hoping you were talking about some other box of… you know… I was embarrassed. I apologize."
"Well, great. I guess I should... come over some time?"
"That would... I... well, yes." He was breathing heavily and crossed his legs. Flushing red. Adorable. Chiseled out of steel.
"Right now," Jimmy said resolutely, and jumped Clark without anymore schoolboy hesitation, because that so wasn't working out.
Clark was startled, but turned to catch him, and evidently had been hiding a giant erection under those pants. Just as suspected. This was so much better than experimenting in college.
Jimmy kissed him hard, hard enough that he worried for a split second he might hurt Clark, and then remembered that was a silly thing to worry about. Man of Steel. Stronger than a locomotive. Kissing him like he'd never kissed anyone before in his life, but that was hot enough to make up for it, and he was a fast learner.
"Oh my God, are you a virgin?"
Clark looked down sheepishly and blushed again. "You can tell?"
"Oh shit, oh my..." Penthouse stories had nothing on this. This might be, as far as Jimmy was concerned, the most sexy moment in the history of sexy moments in human, and maybe even... what was it? Kryptonian history, too.
"You are the hottest thing ever," Jimmy gushed. "I want to fuck you so bad it hurts." It did, although he hadn't meant to quite say it like that.
"We could... use the closet. I mean... that's why... nobody ever goes in there. During the day." Clark's hesitation began melting and he reached experimentally under Jimmy's shirt.
Jimmy felt kinda bad about how unromantic this was, I mean, losing one's virginity is the sort of thing you're supposed to do some special way. Not that anyone ever did. He did it in the back of a broken-down Cadillac in his uncle's backyard with a girl he'd not yet discovered was completely insane. What was her name?
"That's a really good idea."
"Wait, don't we... need... anything?"
"I have condoms and lube in my locker," Jimmy replied to the soft skin on Clark's neck.
"Really?"
"I was a Boy Scout, you know."
"You know, it's funny, but I never was."
Jimmy laughed and decided they really needed to go downstairs. He got up and Clark adjusted his pants as he followed him.
Sneaking around somewhere to have sex always has that great feeling of anxious anticipation. Does someone around them know, can they guess? Will they get caught? Are they being painfully obvious? Clark waited in the hall and mumbled that he'd meet him and fled.
Cool as a cucumber, Jimmy strolled to his locker, spun the combination, and whistled as he looked around suspiciously; just more lockers looked back, echoing the sound as he snuck his lovin' kit into his pocket. Red leather cover with a heart stitched on the front. Always prepared.
He kept whistling all the way down the empty hall, glancing around again before he snuck in the door, shut it, and looked unsuccessfully for a lock. He didn't look long enough to find one; there was something way better to look at.
Clark had already taken his shirt off, the flush of his nervousness over his broad, perfect chest. Taut, magnificent arms, rubbing at his waistband with his fingers, under... oh, washboard abs didn't even begin to describe it.
"Golly."
Clark smiled up at him wryly, the curl falling loose on his forehead. "This is crazy," he pointed out.
"I'm a little nutty, you're a little nutty, we can have a good time doing it." Jimmy did his best to show off his own body under the Hawaiian shirt he was now regretting ever buying, let alone wearing today, so he took it off with as much seductive sultriness as he could muster taking a camera off his neck.
He took a picture while Clark laughingly protested. Took a few, and then Clark stopped laughing and began... playing to the camera.
Clark was good at it, too. Knew his good side, was used to being documented, and all his innocent nervousness faded to hold back his shoulders and unzip his navy blue slacks with aching slowness. Jimmy captured the sharp line of his hips, the muscles flexing along the ever more exposed navel. Everything about him was... well, it was unreal, just how... perfect he was. Everything that could ever be attractive about a man in one neat building-jumping bundle of fantastic. Sultry smile on his lips.
Jimmy used up the roll before Clark even pulled his pants down, but it became pretty secondary at that point. The camera was put aside and forgotten about.
Heat was radiating off Clark's skin, soaked-up sunshine sparking in his remarkably blue eyes. How had he not noticed them before? Those glasses couldn't be prescription. He wasn't wearing anything under the slacks; must have taken them off before. Jimmy helped them off as Clark groped back with all the eagerness of being new to it, fumbling with the button on Jimmy's jeans. Jeans that were far too tight.
Jimmy's hands went over Clark's, his fingers guided him to open the fly, push open his boxers, wrap around his erection. His hands felt amazing, strong and so warm, moving on their own as he returned the favour as Clark's slacks slid easily down his legs, and he stepped out of them, kicked them aside.
Clark's erection was every bit as magnificent as his tented pants had alluded to. Straight and full, rising out of the just full enough to be attractive bed of black, curly hairs. He would put every porn star that ever cut a paycheck to shame. Naked, aroused Superman was even better than it sounded.
"Oh sweet mystery of love..."
"How should we, uh, do this?"
"Don't you worry, baby. Jimmy's going to take care of everything." Clark laughed and Jimmy snorted at himself. He was letting this porn thing go too far, needed to take it down a notch. "I know what I'm doing. Didn't you watch any of it?"
"No, actually, I just... I actually have no idea why I kept it. I just figured... someone would say something..." Clark broke off into a heavy moan as Jimmy pressed their groins together, unable to resist a few rough, dry humping thrusts as they grabbed hastily as each other's asses.
Clark had pushed back against the windowsill, rattling the blinds as he threw his head back and bucked.
"If you want," Jimmy breathed, "I can suck your cock." Clark's eyes went dark with lust and he arched forward with all the enthusiasm of screaming 'yes, yes please.'
Jimmy was all too willing to oblige, to hear Clark's moans of pleasure, see it on his face. Never happier to be on his knees, teasing Clark's full balls with his fingers, lapping over his cock like the most delicious treat he'd licked. The damp head of his cock tasted different, sweeter, and Jimmy didn't complain a bit.
He was sucking off an alien. A HOT alien. It was the sort of experience that might get him off for the rest of his life.
Clark's hands rested on Jimmy's head, moving as he fought to push on it and let Jimmy do all the work, bob up and down, running the thick shaft over his tongue as best he could. He wasn't the greatest at this, but Clark didn't have any complaints, either. "That feels so good," Clark moaned. "I think I'm, I'm..."
There was a wet sound as Jimmy pulled the cock out of his mouth, pressed his face against Clark's hard abdomen, felt it lurch and tighten as Jimmy stroked out his orgasm, splashing on his chest. Way too into it to care like he might if this was any other guy, semen not the most pleasant thing in the world but... Clark had this look on his face, this rapture that made him look like a bewitched angel and it was all worth it. More than worth it.
Jimmy grabbed his boxers off the floor and wiped off his chest, stood and hesitantly plucked against Clark's lips with his own, beckoning out his tongue, met with his own, sliding against each other into a deep kiss. Clark was enthusiastic and surer now, running his hands up and down Jimmy's back. He couldn't wait any more.
"Are you sure about this, Clark?"
"Yes," he replied raggedly, "I'm ready." Music to Jimmy's ears, that was. He broke three of the condoms before managing to get one on, and Clark was no help at all in the process, snapping the fourth one with his thumb. "Actually, maybe... we don't have to... worry about that..." Clark offered.
"Right, right. I don't... you know... have anything."
"I'm not sure it would matter," Clark mused.
"We can theorize later, huh?" Jimmy snapped off the last useless piece of latex and began fumbling with the lube, squeezing a fat dollop on the floor before he managed to get some on his hands and his dick. Hot, aching hard, and Clark was so sex-tousled and sweaty already... "You are so the hottest thing ever."
"You're not so bad yourself," Clark laughed, self-conscious in the most adorable way ever.
"I used to play basketball."
"Really?"
"All through college." Jimmy smoothed the gel over himself, until his erection was glistening. "You're sure you want to do this?"
Clark gave him an impatient look, drew his hands away, and turned around, leaning against the windowsill. The back of him was just as impressive as the front, a sculpted, hard ass that would make Arnold spit with jealousy back when he was buff, a wide muscle-bound back that flexed as he leaned forward. "You can't hurt me, and I..." He swallowed, gasped as Jimmy touched his waist. "I want you to."
"I think you did watch it," Jimmy huskily accused against his ear.
"No but... I did... look at a few of the magazines," Clark sheepishly admitted. "I want to know what it feels like," he breathed.
"I'm all too happy to show you."
Jimmy's fingers were still slick with lube, guided by Clark's relaxing muscles, his ragged breath as they pushed inside him, explored his perfect ass. In the back of his mind, there was the worry that Clark's muscles of steel might be too strong to risk plunging into, but he opened for him like the best fantasy of Superman's defenses going down, yielding oh so willingly.
Carefully, Jimmy guided his cock against him, and pushed inside, to such hot resistance that his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he shuddered in pleasure. Sex this good had to be against the law.
Clark's legs pushed further apart and he moaned, pushing back as Jimmy wrapped tight behind him, thrusting up with his hips, squeezing Clark's nipples. Every motion felt better than the last, Jimmy struggled against pushing too fast, against coming too soon, ending the moment too fast. It was too good to waste, to squander, and after it was over they might go back to uncomfortably not talking about it and he might never get the opportunity again.
Superman deserves better than premature ejaculation. Jimmy did his best to satisfy, amazed at how carefully, restrained Clark was, even in the throes of pleasure. Way more than Jimmy himself ever was when he took it up the ass, those marvelous few occasions he'd had the opportunity and enjoyed it.
He pushed faster and faster as he felt orgasm coming, losing all his own restraint in the wonder of not having to worry about having any, once more, and he came screaming Clark's name, squeezing up tight behind him, shuddering as his cock emptied and twitched. "That was the best sex I've ever had," Jimmy sighed into Clark's back.
They pulled apart and slid down on the floor, flopping over each other in dopey, happy afterglow. Their limbs were tangled, and they kept sighing contentedly, soaking up the musk of sex and the warmth of each other.
"Was that everything you thought it would be?" Jimmy asked, suddenly needing to know as soon as he'd said it.
There was a precedent to worry about here.
"That was great," Clark sighed. "Thank you."
"Oh no, big guy, thank you."
"No, no, no, thank YOU!"
They laughed together, trailing off to amused hums, and more sighs.
The closet door swung open and they stared back, frozen in place, as Perry White stormed in huffily, cigar smoke swirling around his dramatic entrance. "What on Earth is..." he trailed off as she registered the scene before him. "Going... on... here?" Perry finished uncertainly. "Actually, you know what? Don't tell me. I don't want to know, I was never here."
He stuck the cigar back between his teeth and clamped down on it for dear life, turned around without any more hesitation, and slammed the door as he ran away.
"Nobody comes in here, huh?"
"We must have been too loud," Clark mumbled sheepishly.
"Right."
Jimmy balled up his soiled underwear and tossed it in the trash as they pulled apart and dressed, uncertainty creeping into the air. Clark seemed to have completely forgotten how to put his tie on, but managed somehow.
"So, um... you maybe... want to do this again?" Jimmy asked, a sideways look on his face.
"Yeah," Clark replied softly, stepped forward, and laid a gentle, sweet kiss on his lips before he left.
James Olsen sauntered out of the closet a moment later, whistling a merry tune. Not only had he had sex with one of his co-workers who had been secretly a stud, he'd also secretly been Superman, who rated pretty much at the top of Jimmy's worship list. AND he had the pictures to prove it.
Not that he could ever tell anyone. But as long as he got to do it again? Small price to pay.
Jimmy took the rest of the afternoon off to develop the roll.
The Secrets of the Tenth Floor Supply Closet
Jimmy/Clark, NC-17: language, sex, and unexpected virginity.
4,000+ words
A hunt for a box of pornography ends with a little more than just a couple magazines and DVDs, but not without embarassment as the Daily Planet globe turns...
Jimmy Olsen’s porn collection was legendary.
Not legendary in the way that would ever be repeated without a grin or a snicker, but ever since a few of the guys in the art department helped him move a year back, it was all downhill from there. It’s reported size went up about once a month, and a new face would be introduced to Jimmy (behind his back, of course) as having a fixation with Superman that occasionally rivaled Lois Lane herself, and that he could fill a garden shed floor to ceiling with everything from Hustler to hardcore BDSM DVDs.
Speculation was rampant as to the possible size of his hard drive. Jimmy was just glad they only found the girlie mags.
The rest had been stashed under Clark Kent’s desk, only to be gone the next day.
Over a year, and still, Jimmy had yet to work up the courage to ask Clark if he’d done something with his collection of gay porn, and Clark was the sort of guy that would blush at seeing a little too much cleavage, so he was sure they’d been discreetly tossed out and Clark was still trying to forget the whole thing had ever happened. He’d have already dropped the matter as a loss, but after all…
Porn is expensive.
Perhaps not as discreetly as he could, Jimmy rushed off as Clark attempted one of his vanishing acts while everyone else was looking at the monitors, chased him out into the hall and promptly lost sight of him.
The hall was silent, save a shutting door that signaled his quarry, so Jimmy ran towards it, and flung open the door to find he was looking in a supply closet with the lights out and the window open. He didn’t even know there’d been a window in here (or why there would be) but there it was, blinds up and letting in wind from updraft.
Jimmy ran to it and looked out to see Superman flying away, and was suitably astonished at the revelation.
Clark’s clothes, which smelled like Old Spice, were neatly folded on a shelf next to bundles of thirty-six rolls of toilet paper and only made it all more inevitable and poignant in a way he decided to remember as a real subdued kind of way or representing a shed self for his next article (which he hoped would be printed, but he was batting about nineteen out of twenty rejected) and also told him that Clark would be coming back for them. The image of naked Superman drifted through his mind like a passing bird, and he shook his head as if to reset his brain to a less erotic channel.
So Jimmy decided that the best thing to do at this point would be to either wait, seeing as he now had a significant amount of leverage with which to blackmail back his porn, or he could run off like a scared little girl and never speak of the event ever again. Ever.
After all, this was Superman, and sure he’s a great guy and all, but he’s also Superman.
Jimmy had a few inappropriate thoughts about Nietzche, and a stiffie, and before he could consider which path would lead to less embarrassment and possibly looking for a new job, he hid behind a stack of printer paper and there he was.
Superman landed gracefully on the floor, which was pretty amazing considering the size of the window he was using, but there seemed to be no hunching or wiggling involved.
“Darn,” Clark muttered, and began rummaging through his clothes in a surprisingly ordinary-looking set of actions.
It was at this point Jimmy’s brain allowed him to finally accept, with all acceptance and all that, the fact of Superman actually being a reporter who spilled his coffee all over himself at least once per day like it was a requirement of the job. Living in Metropolis was the sort of thing that allowed for one to learn not to think too hard about the bizarre, but now it was a little inevitable and shortly approaching the sort of thing that could become an obsession. And join Jimmy’s little mental collection of obsessions, with its own pedestal and everything.
The most important fact at this point was not the powers or anything, but that Clark Kent was built like a gladiator under all that bumble. Which was approaching one of the hottest things about any of Jimmy’s co-workers to date, and quickly overtook Cat’s legs once he actually started putting on his slacks, one leg at a time, and pulling all his clothes on at once in a kind of half-hazard fashion that normal people do. People that don’t fly, that is.
Jimmy almost didn’t notice that his nose was getting itchy, and Clark looked up sharply as the stack of paper sneezed and fell over.
At least they were in bundles, so there was no danger of paper cuts as Jimmy tried to extricate himself in a way one does in front of someone that impresses the heck out of them (and their secret longings for kinky monkey sex) and Clark swallowed audibly.
“Um…” Clark looked down at himself and turned away as if he was actually in a state of undress to finish putting his pants on.
“Er… hey… C.K…” Jimmy decided he might need therapy, because being terrified was turning a stiffie into a raging hardon.
Clark pretended not to notice.
“So, about this…”
“What? I didn’t see anything, no siree bob, not me. Not a thing, not a thing… but… um…”
“What? Oh. Um.”
They stared at each other for a moment, and Jimmy considered that Clark drew a striking resemblance to this guy he’d seen in some old movie but couldn’t remember the name of. Without his glasses on, anyway.
“I was, just, uh, looking for something.” Jimmy nodded as if it were a fundamental truth.
“I might… be able to… help.” Clark wasn’t really sure if he meant the tented pants or whatever Jimmy was looking for, or if there was a difference, and neither did Jimmy.
“I lost my porn.”
If they were in the sort of place where crickets would have chirped, they undoubtedly would have been pulling a solo performance, but as it was, they had to settle for the sound of the air conditioning system, which reminded Clark that he’d left the window open. So he closed it, finished dressing, and cleared his throat meaningfully, but without being entirely certain of the exact meaning he wanted to convey.
Jimmy was passing smitten and the exit to infatuation was coming up fast.
How could he help it? Seriously, it was Clark Kent, charmingly befuddled cutie with the kind of face that made you want to tell him everything that had ever troubled you to be magicked away, only now it was all angular and hard and the garnish on a beefcake platter of…
“Porn?” Clark asked, as if the pause had never happened and he was asking about extra printer cartridges.
“Yes.” Jimmy nodded again and wondered if his face was closer to scarlet or crimson, and what exactly that difference would be anyway. “Under your desk.”
Clark had visions of terribly dirty things and Jimmy thought of the exact same things, but instead thought they were marvelously dirty things that had little to do with a cardboard box of videos and magazines.
“You’re looking for that… in the closet?”
“You have no idea,” Jimmy replied a little too quickly.
More staring ensued, followed by a couple polite coughs of torturous mental discomfort.
“I… uh… I think, um, I owe you…” A blowjob? “An explanation.”
“Oh.” Jimmy hoped this was one of those metaphorical way of putting things like writers tended to do, but it seemed unlikely at this point. “About?”
Clark pointed to his chest, now at a blue tie he was adjusting over and over like someone that had never done it before, and it took Jimmy a second to realize exactly what he meant by that.
Oh yeah. That whole Superman thing. Jimmy didn’t really feel very surprised anymore, if he really had at all. It had been more like shock and awe than being genuinely startled, and he figured that maybe on the inside James Olsen wasn’t as dumb as he looked. Maybe.
"No, no, you can keep on doing... your thing... here. I won't say a word. Not a breath. Nada." Jimmy flattened out his hands to emphasize just how little he meant by 'nada' which was really nothing.
Clark began edging his way towards the door.
"I, uh, actually, the porn? It uh, wasn't in here. It was under your desk."
"Really? When?"
"Like, a year ago?"
"What did it look like?"
"It was a box of gay porn, what do you think it looks like?"
For a second, Jimmy almost thought he did hear crickets this time. Clark began backing towards doorknob more resolutely.
"Sorry, never saw it," Clark said quickly, turned the knob, and rushed out into the hallway with what might have been a look of fear. From Superman? No way. But the evidence was there.
Eventually, Jimmy looked out the door, checked the hallway, and snuck out, shutting it carefully. As far as he was concerned? This never happened. Clark Kent was not at all super-powerful, the porn never existed.
Apparently, Clark felt the same way. For some time, he'd look a little uncomfortable, tug on his tie, cross his legs shiftily, even drop things when Jimmy was around, but the event was never spoken of.
A cup of coffee met an untimely end and Jimmy sighed. "Clark, we should maybe..." What would Oprah advise in this sort of moment? "Talk."
"About?" Clark looked up, his hair a little messy, his glasses a little lopsided and bent, an inevitable stain on his ever so slightly wrinkled shirt, tie crooked. He looked... well... he looked cute.
Hero-worship of this guy had morphed into something very, very different than it used to be. "This really has to stop."
Clark stopped pretending he didn't know what Jimmy was talking about and, damn his hide, he blushed. "I take my, ah, lunch break on the roof sometimes."
"I'll meet you there." Jimmy didn't mean to wink when he said it, really, he didn't. But he totally did. Then turned and walked away before he could see how Clark reacted, because they weren't ready for that sort of thing.
Ready? He was taking this really seriously. "I mean," he mumbled to himself, plucking his camera-strap, "he's totally into me. And I'm totally into him." Two and two still equaled four, right?
If it did or not, Clark was on the roof at noon, standing right on the edge like he'd done it a million times, which, of course, he must have, being... well, being Superman. His tie fluttered in the updraft, pulling away from a gold tie-pin on his white shirt. He wasn't wearing his glasses.
Jimmy's knees went weak.
"God you're gorgeous," he whispered, then realized Clark could hear him, could always hear him and everyone else, and always pretended he didn't.
X-ray vision.
Clark walked over to the platform under the giant brass globe, sat down and waited for Jimmy to do the same, up on the sun-warmed concrete. Was he warmer now? Must be the seat.
"So," Clark began, coughed uncomfortably. "It's in my closet. I should have done more to find out who it belonged to, but I wrestled it away from a janitor and, well... I was going to tell you, I just... well... I was... kinda hoping you were talking about some other box of… you know… I was embarrassed. I apologize."
"Well, great. I guess I should... come over some time?"
"That would... I... well, yes." He was breathing heavily and crossed his legs. Flushing red. Adorable. Chiseled out of steel.
"Right now," Jimmy said resolutely, and jumped Clark without anymore schoolboy hesitation, because that so wasn't working out.
Clark was startled, but turned to catch him, and evidently had been hiding a giant erection under those pants. Just as suspected. This was so much better than experimenting in college.
Jimmy kissed him hard, hard enough that he worried for a split second he might hurt Clark, and then remembered that was a silly thing to worry about. Man of Steel. Stronger than a locomotive. Kissing him like he'd never kissed anyone before in his life, but that was hot enough to make up for it, and he was a fast learner.
"Oh my God, are you a virgin?"
Clark looked down sheepishly and blushed again. "You can tell?"
"Oh shit, oh my..." Penthouse stories had nothing on this. This might be, as far as Jimmy was concerned, the most sexy moment in the history of sexy moments in human, and maybe even... what was it? Kryptonian history, too.
"You are the hottest thing ever," Jimmy gushed. "I want to fuck you so bad it hurts." It did, although he hadn't meant to quite say it like that.
"We could... use the closet. I mean... that's why... nobody ever goes in there. During the day." Clark's hesitation began melting and he reached experimentally under Jimmy's shirt.
Jimmy felt kinda bad about how unromantic this was, I mean, losing one's virginity is the sort of thing you're supposed to do some special way. Not that anyone ever did. He did it in the back of a broken-down Cadillac in his uncle's backyard with a girl he'd not yet discovered was completely insane. What was her name?
"That's a really good idea."
"Wait, don't we... need... anything?"
"I have condoms and lube in my locker," Jimmy replied to the soft skin on Clark's neck.
"Really?"
"I was a Boy Scout, you know."
"You know, it's funny, but I never was."
Jimmy laughed and decided they really needed to go downstairs. He got up and Clark adjusted his pants as he followed him.
Sneaking around somewhere to have sex always has that great feeling of anxious anticipation. Does someone around them know, can they guess? Will they get caught? Are they being painfully obvious? Clark waited in the hall and mumbled that he'd meet him and fled.
Cool as a cucumber, Jimmy strolled to his locker, spun the combination, and whistled as he looked around suspiciously; just more lockers looked back, echoing the sound as he snuck his lovin' kit into his pocket. Red leather cover with a heart stitched on the front. Always prepared.
He kept whistling all the way down the empty hall, glancing around again before he snuck in the door, shut it, and looked unsuccessfully for a lock. He didn't look long enough to find one; there was something way better to look at.
Clark had already taken his shirt off, the flush of his nervousness over his broad, perfect chest. Taut, magnificent arms, rubbing at his waistband with his fingers, under... oh, washboard abs didn't even begin to describe it.
"Golly."
Clark smiled up at him wryly, the curl falling loose on his forehead. "This is crazy," he pointed out.
"I'm a little nutty, you're a little nutty, we can have a good time doing it." Jimmy did his best to show off his own body under the Hawaiian shirt he was now regretting ever buying, let alone wearing today, so he took it off with as much seductive sultriness as he could muster taking a camera off his neck.
He took a picture while Clark laughingly protested. Took a few, and then Clark stopped laughing and began... playing to the camera.
Clark was good at it, too. Knew his good side, was used to being documented, and all his innocent nervousness faded to hold back his shoulders and unzip his navy blue slacks with aching slowness. Jimmy captured the sharp line of his hips, the muscles flexing along the ever more exposed navel. Everything about him was... well, it was unreal, just how... perfect he was. Everything that could ever be attractive about a man in one neat building-jumping bundle of fantastic. Sultry smile on his lips.
Jimmy used up the roll before Clark even pulled his pants down, but it became pretty secondary at that point. The camera was put aside and forgotten about.
Heat was radiating off Clark's skin, soaked-up sunshine sparking in his remarkably blue eyes. How had he not noticed them before? Those glasses couldn't be prescription. He wasn't wearing anything under the slacks; must have taken them off before. Jimmy helped them off as Clark groped back with all the eagerness of being new to it, fumbling with the button on Jimmy's jeans. Jeans that were far too tight.
Jimmy's hands went over Clark's, his fingers guided him to open the fly, push open his boxers, wrap around his erection. His hands felt amazing, strong and so warm, moving on their own as he returned the favour as Clark's slacks slid easily down his legs, and he stepped out of them, kicked them aside.
Clark's erection was every bit as magnificent as his tented pants had alluded to. Straight and full, rising out of the just full enough to be attractive bed of black, curly hairs. He would put every porn star that ever cut a paycheck to shame. Naked, aroused Superman was even better than it sounded.
"Oh sweet mystery of love..."
"How should we, uh, do this?"
"Don't you worry, baby. Jimmy's going to take care of everything." Clark laughed and Jimmy snorted at himself. He was letting this porn thing go too far, needed to take it down a notch. "I know what I'm doing. Didn't you watch any of it?"
"No, actually, I just... I actually have no idea why I kept it. I just figured... someone would say something..." Clark broke off into a heavy moan as Jimmy pressed their groins together, unable to resist a few rough, dry humping thrusts as they grabbed hastily as each other's asses.
Clark had pushed back against the windowsill, rattling the blinds as he threw his head back and bucked.
"If you want," Jimmy breathed, "I can suck your cock." Clark's eyes went dark with lust and he arched forward with all the enthusiasm of screaming 'yes, yes please.'
Jimmy was all too willing to oblige, to hear Clark's moans of pleasure, see it on his face. Never happier to be on his knees, teasing Clark's full balls with his fingers, lapping over his cock like the most delicious treat he'd licked. The damp head of his cock tasted different, sweeter, and Jimmy didn't complain a bit.
He was sucking off an alien. A HOT alien. It was the sort of experience that might get him off for the rest of his life.
Clark's hands rested on Jimmy's head, moving as he fought to push on it and let Jimmy do all the work, bob up and down, running the thick shaft over his tongue as best he could. He wasn't the greatest at this, but Clark didn't have any complaints, either. "That feels so good," Clark moaned. "I think I'm, I'm..."
There was a wet sound as Jimmy pulled the cock out of his mouth, pressed his face against Clark's hard abdomen, felt it lurch and tighten as Jimmy stroked out his orgasm, splashing on his chest. Way too into it to care like he might if this was any other guy, semen not the most pleasant thing in the world but... Clark had this look on his face, this rapture that made him look like a bewitched angel and it was all worth it. More than worth it.
Jimmy grabbed his boxers off the floor and wiped off his chest, stood and hesitantly plucked against Clark's lips with his own, beckoning out his tongue, met with his own, sliding against each other into a deep kiss. Clark was enthusiastic and surer now, running his hands up and down Jimmy's back. He couldn't wait any more.
"Are you sure about this, Clark?"
"Yes," he replied raggedly, "I'm ready." Music to Jimmy's ears, that was. He broke three of the condoms before managing to get one on, and Clark was no help at all in the process, snapping the fourth one with his thumb. "Actually, maybe... we don't have to... worry about that..." Clark offered.
"Right, right. I don't... you know... have anything."
"I'm not sure it would matter," Clark mused.
"We can theorize later, huh?" Jimmy snapped off the last useless piece of latex and began fumbling with the lube, squeezing a fat dollop on the floor before he managed to get some on his hands and his dick. Hot, aching hard, and Clark was so sex-tousled and sweaty already... "You are so the hottest thing ever."
"You're not so bad yourself," Clark laughed, self-conscious in the most adorable way ever.
"I used to play basketball."
"Really?"
"All through college." Jimmy smoothed the gel over himself, until his erection was glistening. "You're sure you want to do this?"
Clark gave him an impatient look, drew his hands away, and turned around, leaning against the windowsill. The back of him was just as impressive as the front, a sculpted, hard ass that would make Arnold spit with jealousy back when he was buff, a wide muscle-bound back that flexed as he leaned forward. "You can't hurt me, and I..." He swallowed, gasped as Jimmy touched his waist. "I want you to."
"I think you did watch it," Jimmy huskily accused against his ear.
"No but... I did... look at a few of the magazines," Clark sheepishly admitted. "I want to know what it feels like," he breathed.
"I'm all too happy to show you."
Jimmy's fingers were still slick with lube, guided by Clark's relaxing muscles, his ragged breath as they pushed inside him, explored his perfect ass. In the back of his mind, there was the worry that Clark's muscles of steel might be too strong to risk plunging into, but he opened for him like the best fantasy of Superman's defenses going down, yielding oh so willingly.
Carefully, Jimmy guided his cock against him, and pushed inside, to such hot resistance that his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he shuddered in pleasure. Sex this good had to be against the law.
Clark's legs pushed further apart and he moaned, pushing back as Jimmy wrapped tight behind him, thrusting up with his hips, squeezing Clark's nipples. Every motion felt better than the last, Jimmy struggled against pushing too fast, against coming too soon, ending the moment too fast. It was too good to waste, to squander, and after it was over they might go back to uncomfortably not talking about it and he might never get the opportunity again.
Superman deserves better than premature ejaculation. Jimmy did his best to satisfy, amazed at how carefully, restrained Clark was, even in the throes of pleasure. Way more than Jimmy himself ever was when he took it up the ass, those marvelous few occasions he'd had the opportunity and enjoyed it.
He pushed faster and faster as he felt orgasm coming, losing all his own restraint in the wonder of not having to worry about having any, once more, and he came screaming Clark's name, squeezing up tight behind him, shuddering as his cock emptied and twitched. "That was the best sex I've ever had," Jimmy sighed into Clark's back.
They pulled apart and slid down on the floor, flopping over each other in dopey, happy afterglow. Their limbs were tangled, and they kept sighing contentedly, soaking up the musk of sex and the warmth of each other.
"Was that everything you thought it would be?" Jimmy asked, suddenly needing to know as soon as he'd said it.
There was a precedent to worry about here.
"That was great," Clark sighed. "Thank you."
"Oh no, big guy, thank you."
"No, no, no, thank YOU!"
They laughed together, trailing off to amused hums, and more sighs.
The closet door swung open and they stared back, frozen in place, as Perry White stormed in huffily, cigar smoke swirling around his dramatic entrance. "What on Earth is..." he trailed off as she registered the scene before him. "Going... on... here?" Perry finished uncertainly. "Actually, you know what? Don't tell me. I don't want to know, I was never here."
He stuck the cigar back between his teeth and clamped down on it for dear life, turned around without any more hesitation, and slammed the door as he ran away.
"Nobody comes in here, huh?"
"We must have been too loud," Clark mumbled sheepishly.
"Right."
Jimmy balled up his soiled underwear and tossed it in the trash as they pulled apart and dressed, uncertainty creeping into the air. Clark seemed to have completely forgotten how to put his tie on, but managed somehow.
"So, um... you maybe... want to do this again?" Jimmy asked, a sideways look on his face.
"Yeah," Clark replied softly, stepped forward, and laid a gentle, sweet kiss on his lips before he left.
James Olsen sauntered out of the closet a moment later, whistling a merry tune. Not only had he had sex with one of his co-workers who had been secretly a stud, he'd also secretly been Superman, who rated pretty much at the top of Jimmy's worship list. AND he had the pictures to prove it.
Not that he could ever tell anyone. But as long as he got to do it again? Small price to pay.
Jimmy took the rest of the afternoon off to develop the roll.
....
on 2007-06-18 10:19 pm (UTC)And my brain is already in a puddle of goo.
I swear you do it on purpose. oO
I'm not the biggest Superman fan but all I can say is... wow.
Re: ....
on 2007-06-18 10:58 pm (UTC)I'm glad you enjoyed it. :)
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on 2007-06-18 10:27 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2007-06-18 11:01 pm (UTC)I was hoping to get your seal of approval, especially after leaving it off, like, forever... but better late than never, right? XD
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on 2007-06-20 05:26 am (UTC)no subject
on 2007-06-19 02:23 am (UTC)no subject
on 2007-06-19 10:45 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2007-06-19 09:07 pm (UTC)That was so hot. You Jimmy is such a filthy, amusing guy
Porn is expensive.
Amen, brother! :(
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on 2007-06-19 10:47 pm (UTC)Seriously, though, so expensive! There's no need for a DVD to be $50 or more! ::whine:: Thank god for the Internet, right? haha
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on 2007-06-20 03:26 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2007-06-20 10:57 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2007-06-23 10:08 pm (UTC)Only you could sell the idea of Clark/Jimmy/porn collection to me.
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on 2007-06-25 04:49 pm (UTC)Thank you kindly. :D