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Soft panting, wet slaps and tense thighs twitching.
It was on a whim, he was drunk and he was out of his goddamn mind.
Bed sheets rumpled, creasing around his spread legs.
He could probably write it off as ‘I bought it as a joke to make fun of him, but then I actually found out I really liked riding the thing- Nothing to do with the guy I bought it about!’.
But he’d be lying through his teeth.
nearly silent, experimental noises.
He’d never been noisy in bed aside from heavy breathing and the sexy groan at the end, but the way the toy was hitting all the right spots. The way it was curving into his stomach, creating a storm of arousal and a little bit of addictive guilt that meant he’d definitely be doing this again tonight. Probably Tomorrow. Maybe forever.
Soft hair flopping onto his forehead with every bounce. Uhn, uhn, uhn u-uh.
His eyes glinting in the low light like this was some borderline porno advertisement for the newest car or maybe yoghurt and it’d turn out that all this noise was over some really good cereal.
“Fuck” His voice came out small, soft as if he were afraid to hear himself, inadvertently shattering the illusion when he isn’t graced with a response.
Pleasure curled in his gut like a moshpit, crowding around to where the dildo’s head hit deep inside his flesh, pressing against him in a way that just made him want to bounce forever. Maybe even grow the gall to try out the real thing.
The thought of it being training of some sort, like he’s building up to something better, something hot and real and maybe some lips and tongue and God, teeth on his neck. His shoulders, maybe his lips, ghh.
“Uhh, ahh, oh oh, Jesus. Gooooddd”
The thought crosses his mind that he might be listening and he gives about two seconds of silence to feel bad for how much sex Clark really hasn’t wanted to hear, and promptly goes back to riding the hell out of this stupidly big, stupidly blue dildo. Because he’s going to actually yell if he thinks for more than five seconds about the fact that Clark might look. Might see.
A jolt shudders up his spine.
It would be an innocent thing, hearing your teammate late at night panting, smelling the sweat but not making sense of the heady sex, hearing yelps and groans and concluding hey, maybe Hal’s having a nightmare. Getting close enough to hear the wet slaps and Oh. Oh
Hal lets out a strangled sound that’s seemingly punched out of him as he arches his back, leans heavily into the next thrust because he’s finding out gentle but big isn’t quite enough. Need’s it harder, faster, even.
Pictures red eyes staring at him in shock, in surprise lust and an unconscious hand trailing down to a red-clad crotch.
A zip of pleasure lights up his dick, making it twitch and the head taps against his belly. A string of pre stretches and he can’t stop feeling each slap- the light pressure better than fingers curling around it but God, imagine that.
Big boy scout crashing into the room, climbing in with him and holding him. Holding him down.
“Oh God, oh please-“ The whimper fills the room, the wet slide of the dildo inside of him becomes a little more exciting, makes him rock more desperately, pelvis tilted at an angle to make his eyes roll back and his chest to arc up into the cool, dark air.
He has a brief moment where the left and right side of his brain talk at the same time, one saying ‘where would he touch me, if he was here, where would he want to touch me, if he saw me’ and the other chanting ‘more more more more, not enough, ruin yourself, need more’.
He’s never really taken much interest in touching anywhere but his dick when he gets off like this- he sometimes pays attention to the thighs, but it’s all a means to an end, a way to get it up. He’s never touched more than this part of himself when he drags a slick hand between his legs on lonely nights.
It suddenly occurs to him, maybe Superman would.
Hands roam over planes of skin- would he linger over his moles? over scars? impossibly hot palms brand his skin wherever they go and, Jesus, he’ll never be able to feel a brush against his hip again without thinking it, feeling it.
It only occurs to him after pinching, rubbing, flicking one nipple and cupping the sternum like he’s expecting to feel breasts there that he’s making more noise than he was before. Whines and gasps and high, guttural sounds that sound like they’re beaten out of him.
The hand that was splayed on his chest trails down, trembling in pleasure as his arousal grows, his bouncing turning more frantic.
He’s going up, up, up the rollercoaster and it’s not long until he’s riding down and screaming and theres a hand on his hip, guiding his ass back onto the dildo, back onto the fat fucking cock making his eyes roll back and honest to God his tongue is poking out a little bit, just over the bottom teeth whilst he has a fleeting thought of filling it; He pants.
Hal weakly moans, it tapers into a whine as Big Blue hits his prostate dead on and he makes sure to keep that angle and grips his own hip but pretend it’s someone else when he just starts going to fucking town.
It was languid before, he was able to focus on each sensation but now he’s playing with fire, every part of his skin and brain lighting up as if he’s hit the jackpot on the fruits.
He jumps up and falls back down like he’s got something to prove and he always does.
Before he knows it he’s picturing red eyes again but further away, he’s desperate, he’s lonely, he knows just how to fix it. In his best idea of what a human mating call would sound like he whines out a tinny ‘big blue’ It slips before he realises he’s done it.
It’s like doing something you know you shouldn’t have- Eating something thats bad for you and he won’t stop saying it.
‘bi-big blue, oh god, b- oh, blue, oh oh oh, uh, please, please i need- need you- need, haaahh, please need you, big guy, need it, oh give it to me i want it.’
He doesn’t know when he started crying. It’s the best fuck of his life and he’s not even having sex with anyone.
It’s all building up deep inside and he’s going insane, he’s babbling because it’s not even about his lower body anymore, touching his chest and ribs and hips seems to have stoked a fire that catches on every nerve in his body.
His shoulders hunch, head hanging to give access to the phantom teeth sucking into his neck.
His inner thighs catch on fabric and drag, they tremble and frantically spread further every time gravity and need takes him back down onto Superman’s dick.
He stays down for a moment, just grinding down on the toy. Allowing it to press against his walls and his prostate, drag mewls out of him like an exorcism and he’s utterly humiliated but something about that.
Something in that feeling just-
His hands clench and unclench rhythmically, he’s working up a sweat and his heart beats eratically and he doesn’t know when orgasm started building but maybe its been a slow crawl this entire time.
Something about the curl of shame and the heady punches of pleasure.
Something about wishing Superman was really here to just pin him down, grind his cock against his gaping ass and take him.
“Ah- S- Superman… Oh- ohohoh, aaahhShit, Guhh, need you, need. Oh!”
“Need…” Oh no.
He feels himself start to cry a little with the desperation, his spine lighting up like a lightning rod and the storm struck him from the rim of his ass to the tip of his dick, dribbling pre against his pelvis.
He knew he wouldn’t last much longer, dragging himself up and no longer having the grace to be slow about it but he still felt every catch.
With a final squelch on his descent, a perfect curl of his hips causing his cockhead to hit his slick stomach just as his pleasure reached a beautiful peak as this beautiful piece of plastic dug into him like it was it’s day job and-
His wet eyes snapped open, seeing red pin pricks staring at him through the open window (Hal always did get a little bit hot over being looked at, he was a dirty attention whore like that.) Just… Staring At him and they were Superman’s eyes they were- He heard-
He didn’t have a choice other than to let himself sit the rest of the way and cum for fucking America. It was hard and intense with a keen like he was a dying coyote on the side of the road and he trembled at the heat and the fluttering and the- The-
God, the eyes on him-
“Please- please- I-“ Tremors overtook him, his voice breaking like glass as his orgasm seemed to last longer, it impossibly grew the more Clark’s eyes trailed down, down his shaking, needing body until they settled on his dick, his greedy ass stretched around his new prized possession.
He panted for what seemed like years before looking up, seeing that red in the indigo blue, they were waiting for something. Hal lived to please.
Hal leaned back to give the big guy a better look, gripping the underside of bent knee to lift it to his chest and to the side.
“Come and get me, Big Blue.”