"Ouch, Jon -"
"Sorry - sorry!" His voice was breathy, chest rising and falling against hers. His cheeks the same shade of red as the cape he usually wore as Superboy. "- I thought - you said ..."
"I did," she cut in, reaching behind her head to loosen his grasp on her ponytail. "I did say I liked it, but - not so rough, Superboy."
Not for the first time did her eyes drift to Jon's ceiling fan, a Superman toy taped to one of the blades so that it flew lazily in circles. The action figure had been there for - for years. She remembered it being there the first time she spent the night, ten years ago, when she slept in Jon's bed and he slept on the floor beside it.
Jon hadn't changed much. If at all, she realized belatedly. He was still - his bumbling self, too much Kryptonian blood stuffed into his gangly body. He was growing into his bulk now, at seventeen, but it had taken years. She doubted he would ever be built like Conner, or his father.
"Sorry," he repeated, reaching beside him for one of his pillows. He proceeded to cover his face, letting out an exasperated groan. "You think - I'd know how to separate me from Superboy by now, but - ..."
"Hey." Irey's voice was soft, tongue darting out to lick sore lips. He kissed her about as hard as he pulled her hair, it seemed. "I nearly phased through your bed last time we did this, so - I think we're even."
"I don't know why we weren't warned about how awful this is. Dating and having powers. It's - the pits." She can hear the pout in his voice, fingers darting out to snipe his pillow from his face and give it a toss across the room.
"Break is over," she teased, skimming palms up his chest. Irey felt his breath hitch, his own hands going to slide to her hips where she sat on his waist. They were still clothed - as Jon had requested and she had groaned over - and she could see him hesitate. Maybe change his mind. But with a minuscule shake of his head, his resolve was written on his face as she leaned forward.
"Same rules as round one, Superboy?"
"... Yeah. Yeah."
She had barely leaned forward, red hair loosened from the ponytail and lips grazing his, when there was a solid knock on Jon's bedroom door.
Within seconds all the school work on his desk fluttered, the pillow she had thrown across the room landing solidly in his lap ( eliciting an 'oof ' from Jon ) and she had - disappeared. He didn't have enough time to wonder where she went as his father opened his door.
"You kids doing okay in here?"
"Y - yes, sir. I mean - Irey's not in here." Jon fumbled, holding the pillow in his lap for dear life. He could feel the blood pulsing in his ears from how hard he was blushing.
"Oh." Clark's voice was an amused hum, peering around the room for just a moment before offering his son a small smile. "Well, when she comes back, tell her that Wally wanted her home for dinner. He said she wasn't answering his texts."
She hadn't been. He strongly remembered her rolling mismatched eyes, turning her phone off and throwing it to his desk. It sat there now, case bold orange against the school work.
"I - I will, dad," Jon said, nodding and licking his lips nervously. "I'll tell her when - she gets back from the bathroom."
The beat of silence told Jon that his father knew where she'd ran off to, and it probably hadn't been the bathroom. It told him he knew exactly what they had been doing. It told him a lot of things he didn't want to know, letting out a defeated sigh.
"Bye, dad. I'll tell her to leave when she gets back."
"Alright, son." The wry smile that came onto his father’s face and the nod told him he’d answered correctly, waiting until the sound of the door latching came to be before he sagged against his mattress.