“You know, you complain about them, but it’s pretty cool that your loaded family can get us into stuff like this.”
Lena scoffs at Jess’ comment, shifting in her seat and adjusting her coat. It’s a bit warm for the jacket she chose, a long floral print to pair with her red skirt, but since she’s not wearing anything but a bra underneath, there’s no way she’s going to be taking it off. She fluffs it a bit, letting the breeze brush her bare midriff.
She’d have much rather gone somewhere tropical for spring break, somewhere to shake off the stress of finishing her PhD, but Lillian and Lex were adamant that she come to National City to put in an appearance at this polo match. Lex is using it as publicity, she knows he is – it’s clear from the way he dragged her over for pictures, putting a warm brotherly arm around her shoulders for the camera, before disappearing into the ether.
Better his clear disinterest, though, than Lillian’s meddling. The second she showed up with Sam and Jess in tow for emotional support, Lillian pushed her in the direction of Jack Spheer, the son of one of her business partners. He’s handsome enough, and kind as he shakes her hand – he pulls a face in his father’s direction after he turns his back that Lena relates to on a deep level, and despite her need to keep some distance between them, she likes him quite a bit.
She’s endeared to him even more when he leans in under the guise of taking her arm, and whispers in her ear. “It’s okay – you don’t have to pretend. I’m not going to make a move on you.”
He shrugs, leading her away from where their parents are making conversation. “Every time my father comes to one of my games, he conveniently forgets that I came out two years ago.”
Oh, thank god.
The relief must show on her face, because he laughs, putting a hand on her shoulder. “I get the feeling your mother does the same thing?”
Lena nods, replying in low tones. “Yes. Well…except for the ‘came out’ part. Because I…haven’t.”
Jack nods in understanding. “Well, hopefully someday. I hope you enjoy the game, Lena. It was really great to meet you.”
With that he leaves, tapping the brim of his riding helmet, and Lena breathes a sigh of relief as she heads back to where her friends are waiting. With that stress out of the way, she settles in for a fairly boring and uneventful afternoon. She has less than zero interest in polo as a sport - all she wants to do is sit outside and drink complimentary champagne, hang out with Sam and Jess, maybe donate some money to a decent cause. Besides, she likes horses. Sam manages to find who she thinks is the cutest player on the field, a short-haired brunette with a fearless play style, and Jess complains no less than three times that her new fancy dress is uncomfortable.
She’s just regretting her choice to sit in an un-shaded area, the sun overly hot on her skin, when she happens to get a decent glance at the most interesting thing she’s seen on the field so far.
She’s tall, and Lena can see blonde hair poking out from under her riding helmet, and she pats her horse on the neck affectionately after she scores a goal. During halftime she dismounts, laughing at something that Sam’s favourite player says, and even from far away Lena can tell it’s light and beautiful. She takes her helmet off and shakes out her curls, running a hand through her sweaty hair, and Lena can’t take her eyes away. When she’s playing, Lena somehow finds herself caring about the outcome of the game instead of socialization - this woman has perfect form.
And, speaking of form, her ass looks phenomenal in those tight pants.
She rides by, chasing the ball, and Lena could swear that those eyes land directly on her. She can see the clear blue of them, the soft bow shape of her lips, the sweat forming on her brow. Lena shivers, and crosses her legs.
She can’t take her eyes off of her for the rest of the match, and more often than not, she secretly hopes that the woman is looking back. The next time the blonde rides past the stands, Lena can’t help but test the waters – she removes her sunglasses and stretches casually, revealing a tiny sliver of midriff. The girl’s eyes widen visibly, and her grip on the mallet slackens.
Internally, Lena is ecstatic. She is looking. Externally, her expression is neutral, her hair ruffling slightly as she fans herself with a programme.
The secret joy is cut off abruptly when the girl flies dramatically over the neck of her horse, landing in a tangled heap on the grass.
Lena gasps, stands with the rest of the crowd, as the object of her fascination is hauled up by the woman Sam is so taken by. It’s a flagrant foul, and the woman who committed it clearly knows it, despite claiming otherwise. The umpire calls it, thankfully, and awards a penalty.
Funnily enough, the short-haired brunette seems more angry about the foul than her teammate does. She hits her with her own abandoned mallet, looking irritated and gesturing at the stands. The grass-stained blonde looks up, making direct eye contact and keeping it for longer than is strictly proper. She stays where she is for a moment before getting back onto her horse, grinning at Lena and offering a small, two-finger salute.
It has…implications, ones that the woman seems to be embracing as she rides off to continue the match, and Lena’s heart picks up at the thought.
Sam pipes in behind her, breaking her out of her reverie.
“She’s sexy when she’s angry. I’m going to call her Officer Sexy. She looks like a cop to me.”
Lena swallows and sits back down, realizing that she’s the only one still standing, and fans herself with a charity brochure to calm her blush. She finishes her own champagne, then reaches over and finishes Jess’.
“Hey!” Jess exclaims, swatting at Lena’s hand. Lena gets the glass anyways, drinking the whole flute in two gulps.
“Relax, it’s free. Just flag down one of the waiters.” Lena waves her off, fanning herself harder and hoping the alcohol will kick in soon.
“But it was mine.” Jess whines, and Sam pokes fun at her childlike tone.
Their chatter fades into white noise as the blonde woman scores another goal, standing up on her stirrups and pumping her arm into the air. Lena could swear that, after her small victory dance, their eyes meet again across the field.
It’s certainly the most interesting polo match she’s ever been to.
“Kara! Look alive!”
The ball flies down the field, rocketed her way by James, and she falls in line beside it. Winding up, she lands a solid hit – it soars perfectly into the goal, and she hears Alex yell happily off to her left.
Polo may be a stodgy sport, but she loves it anyways. And she’s good at it, besides. She and Alex head up the small National City University team, Marco Polo, and even though she’s pursuing a degree in journalism, she’s heard a few whispers about sponsorships to go pro. She’s still unsure about whether that’s what she wants – for now, playing with her friends is enough.
They were lucky to even get selected for this charity game, in her opinion. Underfunded college teams are usually not on the roster for big-time charity matches, but apparently a team dropped out, and James somehow knows Spheer, the more well-coiffed of the two men on the other team. Kara is fairly sure they used to hook up, but she’s too polite to pry.
Jack seemed nice enough, but his team is much less so. Like Marco Polo, their team is two men and two women, and the other man on the team is Mike, the absolute definition of a spoiled frat boy. He’s been consistently hitting on her since before the game started, despite her very vocal objections, and his teammate Beth keeps skirting the line between ‘accident’ and ‘foul’. But none of that matters. When she gets on the field she’s immediately in the zone, scoring goals and moving in perfect synch with Alex and her mount as usual.
That is, until she rides past the stands and her eyes zero in on a woman. A beautiful woman. A stupidly gorgeous, curvy, aloof, beautiful woman, in a huge floppy hat and sunglasses and crimson lipstick that Kara wants smeared all over her thighs –
A whistle blows signalling half-time, and she shakes her head to clear it of the sudden dirty thoughts. She buckles down and tries to concentrate on the game, but now it’s like she can feel the woman’s gaze wherever she goes on the field, burning into the back of her head.
Finally she rides close again, chasing the ball with Spheer on her tail, and the woman leans back. She stretches her arms up over her head, her long floral jacket parts, and she’s wearing a bright scarlet skirt and nothing else underneath –
She’s basically naked in the stands, this woman, and Kara can’t look away. She loses track of the ball entirely, too focused on staring at the softness of the woman’s belly, the gentle curve of it, thinking about how much she wants to bury her face there –
The next thing she knows, she’s in the air. Her horse stops suddenly as Beth comes out of nowhere, cutting her off illegally and hitting the ball away, and Kara flies ass-over-teakettle out of the saddle and onto the ground.
Luckily she lands softly, and Alex hauls her up easily, berating her all the way.
“That was illegal, Breen!” She yells at her retreating back, before turning to Kara. “What the hell got into you? Were you not looking? I saw her coming from a mile away.”
“I was distracted!” Kara says defensively, shrugging her shoulders. Alex looks mystified.
“By what? The stands?”
Kara looks up at the aforementioned stands, and immediately she sees that the pale brunette is staring at her with a concerned expression. It warms her to her core. She cares!
Kara grins at her, and Alex whirls around, spotting the object of Kara’s sudden interest and sighing.
“A girl. Of course. Just get back on the horse, will you?”
Kara puts her foot in the stirrup, but before she mounts again, she can’t resist the urge to send a quick little lesbian salute and a wink to the girl who caused her crash. The woman’s hand goes to her chest, and she visibly flushes.
She spends the rest of the match balancing between looking at the stands and avoiding Alex’s wrath, and somehow between those two distractions, Marco Polo ends up winning. Kara shakes hands with Spheer and his other female teammate, Imra – Mike and Beth stormed off just after the final bell sounded – and hands her horse off to the stablehand. When she looks back at the stands, she decides to take a risk. She waves at the distant red-and-black blur that she knows is her unexpected fan. She sees the woman hesitate, raise a hand, and then seem to think better of it, turning away and heading out with her friends.
Kara chuckles, and ducks into the changing rooms.
Unaccustomed as she is to these fancy events, she isn’t entirely sure what the protocol is here. Is she expected to socialize, even all sweaty like this? Is she allowed to just go home?
When she enters the room, she hears the showers running and sees two dresses in dry-cleaning bags hanging off of the opposing team’s hooks, and her question is answered.
She showers and changes into her slacks and checkered shirt, replacing her contacts with her glasses, and secures a green ascot around her neck for good measure. She can practically feel Beth’s judgement as she heads out with her loose hair still wet.
“You know, this company paid us to represent them.” She snipes, and Kara looks down at herself, shrugging good-naturedly.
“They knew what they signed up for.”
She leaves quickly, Alex not far behind, and heads to the grassy stretch to mingle with the rich and famous. A few people seem to recognize her, shaking her hand and congratulating her on the win – she even gets sucked into an in-depth conversation with a man wearing a monocle about her riding form. She feels no remorse about cutting his monologue off when she sees her.
The woman from the stands is only a few tables away, chatting with the women she was sitting with. Kara mentally checks out of her current conversation, perfectly content to watch her take off her sunglasses again and fan herself with her hat. Without the shades, her eyes are striking – they’re a light green, piercing and perfectly set in her sharp cheekbones.
Kara is saved from having to figure out a way to approach her with her friends around when the woman excuses herself, heading to the bar for another drink. Ducking out of her own boring conversation with no remorse, Kara sidles up next to her, grinning.
The woman looks over at her, seeming surprised that a stranger is striking up a conversation. She glances briefly over Kara’s clothes, and then looks back towards the bartender.
“Can I help you?”
Kara snorts. She’s hot, but god, she’s snobby.
“Well, since you made me fall off my horse, I’d appreciate at least knowing your name.” Kara jokes, and the woman’s head snaps back up. She looks over Kara more carefully, and Kara holds out her arms as if to say “ta-da!”
“Oh!” She stammers, looking abashed at her standoffish introduction. “Oh, I – didn’t recognize you. The glasses.”
“It’s okay.” Kara grins, holding out her hand. “I’m Kara.”
“Lena.” Lena takes it, and she giggles adorably when Kara gives her knuckles an overdramatic kiss.
“Is this not what you people do?”
“Us people?” Lena says, feigning offence. “And what does that mean, exactly?”
Lena lets out a surprisingly loud, genuine laugh, clapping a hand over her mouth when the people next to them at the bar look over at her with miffed expressions.
“You’re…refreshingly honest.” She admits, and Kara winks.
Despite the initial misunderstanding, they hit it off fantastically, and Kara is proud to say that she’s only marginally distracted by Lena’s bare midriff. Lena is clearly picking up what she’s putting down, leaning into her casual touches and fiddling with her hair, but every few minutes she looks around nervously as if she’s expecting someone to get her in trouble. It puts a slight shadow over their conversation, and Kara wishes they could just talk without the nervousness getting in the way.
“Hey, do you want to go somewhere a bit more…private?” She asks without thinking, and immediately regrets it when Lena’s eyes widen dramatically.
“No! Not to, like – not like that! Not that I wouldn’t – I just thought, there’s a lot of people here, and I’m really enjoying talking to you. Excuse me, I’ll just go die now.” Kara turns on her heel, but Lena grabs her elbow, laughing so that her white teeth flash.
“No, you’re right. I keep expecting my mother to show up, like the spectral hag she is. What did you have in mind?”
When she agreed to attend a charity polo match to represent the family company, the absolute last thing Lena thought she’d be doing is making out with a hot female jockey behind the stables, her half-full champagne flute still in her hand. And yet, that’s exactly what she’s doing – her lipstick is smudged all over both of their faces, her hat is nowhere to be found, her hair is in disarray, and Kara’s hands are on her bare stomach under her favourite jacket. Somewhere between walking together beside the empty field and arriving at the stables, she’s been wholly and completely seduced, and she can barely summon up a speck of remorse.
Some strange impulse had led her to go shirtless underneath as a fashion statement, and she thanks whatever deity is listening that she did as Kara easily pinches at her already-hard nipples through her lace bra. A breathy whimper escapes despite her best efforts, and she feels Kara’s teeth scrape against her neck.
“Oh god, is this really happening?” She whispers half to herself, rolling her hips forward. Her champagne is dangerously close to spilling, and she can feel herself getting sunburnt, and it’s absolutely worth it.
“Only if you want it to.” Kara responds, and Lena is a little bit floored by her consideration. Wandering hands still, resting on Lena’s ribcage, and she assesses the situation. She can still hear the distant sounds of the party happening out on the lawn, and the occasional whinny or stomp of the horses in the stable. At any moment someone could round the corner of the building and see them, see Lena getting ravished by some underdressed polo player with a strange, magnetic charisma.
But, that same underdressed polo player is pressed so close to her, and she smells like spicy shampoo and fresh grass, and her mouth is soft and addicting, and Lena has already made the decision before she finishes the thought.
She pulls Kara in for a deep, decisive kiss, and she can feel the resulting grin against her lips.
When Kara drops to her knees, gathering the material of Lena’s long skirt up and pushing it above her head, Lena is positive that her heart is now located somewhere below her waist with how deeply she can feel her pulse pounding there.
Kara hands the bunched-up material to her, gesturing for her to hold it up, and Lena expects her to get to work right away – but surprisingly she seems to slow down, despite the urgency of the situation.
She kisses and caresses Lena’s thighs, nips at the waistband of her lace underwear, and spends what Lena thinks is an inordinate amount of time worshipping her stomach rolls. Lena wore a high waisted skirt with this particular look for a reason, to cover them up, but Kara seems to be fascinated. The attention, instead of making her self-conscious like it usually would, just makes her even wetter – she can’t help but picture being spread out on a soft bed somewhere, maybe in her hotel room, completely naked and exposed to Kara’s reverent gaze.
She’s a bit distracted by this image - so much so that when Kara finally pulls her panties down and puts a leg over her shoulder, Lena only has a few seconds to prepare herself.
“Oh, fuck – “
The champagne glass falls, forgotten before it even hits the ground.
What is my life?
Kara, on her knees in the grass and face-to-face with the wet, lace-covered pussy of possibly the most strikingly beautiful wealthy socialite she’s ever seen, is pretty sure that this is the peak of her human existence. Something so exquisite has to be savoured, no matter how likely it is that someone is going to catch them at it.
Lena’s thighs are soft in every sense of the word – her skin is smooth, with faint stretch marks painting the softest parts. She kisses each of them, feeling the uneven skin on her tongue and humming her wholehearted approval. There are two red patches where her thighs have rubbed together throughout the day, and Kara gives them the softest kiss before laying one over Lena’s panties. Lena twitches, gasping, but Kara is already moving on, up over the lace until she’s nuzzling Lena’s belly.
It’s soft, and rounded, and perfect. Kara maps a smattering of asymmetrical freckles and moles, soothes the red indents where Lena’s underwear digs in, and leaves a few red marks of her own. By the end of it Lena is quivering, her knuckles white around the balled-up fabric of her skirt, and Kara isn’t faring much better. Lena looks wrecked – her eyes are screwed shut, her lace bra is out in the open for the world to see, her jacket hanging open, and her free hand is clapped over her mouth – and, Kara secretly thinks, she’s never seen anything more breathtaking.
Lena whines around her own hand, broken and wanting, and Kara finally has mercy. She slips the delicate lingerie down her legs (it's Alexander McQueen, she notes with amusement), stuffing them in her pocket to keep them from landing in the dirt, and swallows hard.
Lena is wet. Her cunt glistens with it, dotted with inky black hairs and spread open by her parted legs. She licks her lips, her mouth watering, and she can’t quash the quiet moan that escapes at her first taste.
She runs her tongue over every slick inch, dipping inside and then swiping over her clit roughly, savouring the heavy taste. Lena cries out brokenly, her hand falling away – Kara should be worried about the noise, but her higher brain functions abandoned ship around the time she pulled Lena’s skirt up. She’s loathe to even pull back to breathe, her face slick with unexpected sweat and Lena and her own spit.
Lena is whispering something, over and over like a mantra as she grinds her hips down –
“It feels so good, it feels so good, fuck, it feels – feels so good –“
It’s almost as if she can hardly believe it, as if she’s surprised at how much she’s enjoying this. Kara looks up at her when she stops chanting, and she’s surprised to see Lena’s eyes open and staring down at her, her expression a mix of desperation and awe.
Kara maintains the eye contact, visibly doubling her efforts, and Lena’s mouth opens silently as she starts to arch up. Kara expects her to close her eyes, but she keeps them open – the green of them is almost completely shrouded by black, and the intensity of the moment stuns her. Sooner than Kara would like Lena’s clit swells and twitches in her mouth, her voice cracks over a high-pitched cry, and her hand slams loudly against the wood siding of the stable as she finally comes.
Kara leans her forehead against Lena’s pelvis in the aftermath, feeling the coolness of the breeze on her wet face contrasting with the heat of her own breath. She noses the coarse hairs there, reticent to move any further away just yet. Lena’s hand strokes her hair almost absent-mindedly, not seeming to mind Kara’s lazy kisses.
She’s forced out of her comfortable position when Lena’s knee starts to shake. She gets up guiltily, helping Lena stand on both feet again and letting her skirt fall. Lena buttons her jacket, and Kara takes stock of herself - her knees are soaked with spilled champagne, her face wet with come, and her neck is covered in Lena’s lipstick, and she couldn’t be happier. She wipes her face on the back of her hand, grinning at the bright red smudge, and when she looks up Lena is staring at her with a strange look on her face.
Lena leans in slowly, grabbing Kara’s ascot and pulling her in until they’re sharing breath. A perfectly manicured hand cups her experimentally over her chinos, making her gasp –
There’s a rustle and a bang of something falling over in the stable, and they spring apart, Lena suddenly frantic in her attempts to get presentable again.
“Someone’s coming –“ She hisses, pushing on Kara’s chest and looking panicked. Kara is less so – she just runs a hand through her hair, wipes her face again, and shrugs at the dark patches on her legs.
“I’ll go check it out.” She assures Lena, who’s already digging through the Chanel purse she dropped on the ground when they started kissing and pulling out a small compact mirror to examine the damage to her makeup.
Peeking around the nearby doorway, Kara squints into the relative darkness at the figure now digging through a box of spare tack, and sighs in relief when she recognizes it as J’onn, the stable owner. He’s busy rubbing down one of the horses, and Kara starts to edge back the way she came, but his deep voice rings out and stops her in her tracks.
“Not at the party, Miss Danvers?”
She freezes, wincing. “Uh. I was just…going for a walk. Fresh air, you know.”
“A loud walk,” J’onn comments, his face placid but his tone knowing. Kara blushes, inching backwards in the direction of where she left Lena. J’onn chuckles at her clear discomfort. “It’s all right, Kara. Your secret is safe with me. Next time, just find a better place than my stable to bring your companions, hm?”
Oh, this is just the worst.
“I – yeah, of course. I just, we –“
J’onn, thankfully, interrupts her half-assed explanation. “Don’t you have a party to get back to?”
Kara seizes the out like a lifeline, nodding vigorously. “Yes! Yeah. I should – okay, bye!” She rushes out of there like a bat out of hell, trying to temper her intense mortification. She rounds the corner quickly, and when she glances around looking for the red and black jacket she’s gotten to know so intimately over the last half hour or so, it’s nowhere to be seen. Lena is gone.
Not that Kara can blame her – she took more time than she intended to, and Lena likely wanted to get back to the party before she was missed. But she can’t hide her disappointment at not getting to kiss her again. Straightening her shirt, she sighs and heads back towards the crowded field.
It lightens her heart somewhat when she slips back into the crowd and actually sees Lena not too far ahead, running a hand through her hair and putting her sunglasses back on. Lena’s friends spot her not long after, waving her over, and Kara places herself strategically at a table close by, snagging a fancy beer from a passing tray.
She’s just close enough to eavesdrop, as it turns out. Lena’s friends start grilling her almost immediately, the tall brunette gesticulating wildly.
“Lena! Where the hell did you go? You left to get a drink 45 minutes ago!”
“Shh, Sam! I…went to the restroom.” Lena edges, taking a long drink of her friend’s scotch. She catches Kara’s eye about halfway through her swallow, and promptly chokes. Sam, rubs her back concernedly.
Her other friend, a pretty Asian woman, seems less distracted by Lena’s coughing fit. She narrows her eyes suspiciously. “Then how did you get a sunburnt? And where’s your hat?”
Kara snorts into her Stella Artois, and she can practically feel Lena’s glare from three tables away. Kara knows for a fact that Lena’s hat is on the ground behind the stables, and Lena sputters her way around an explanation that it’s clear her friends don’t believe.
“Look, I’ll tell you, okay? Just…not here.” Lena mutters, glancing at Kara again, and her friends titter. They move away as a group away from the crowd, and Kara watches them go somewhat wistfully. She has to hold in a laugh when she hears a loud exclamation of “LENA!”, followed by a panicked “Shhhh!”, from their direction.
She doesn’t see Lena for quite a while, after that. Kara sticks around just in case, shaking hands with self-important sponsors and eventually finding Alex again, but it isn’t until the whole affair is starting to wind down that the agrees to Alex’s now-consistent requests to just go home already.
She finishes off her drink, and she’s digging through her pockets looking for her car keys when she smells a familiar perfume. A cocktail napkin slides onto the table in front of her, and Kara follows the pale arm that offered it all the way up until she’s locking eyes with Lena again.
Lena looks around furtively, and upon deciding that it’s safe, she leans in and whispers in Kara’s ear.
“You can keep the panties.”
It’s then that Kara remembers that Lena’s underwear is still in her pocket, probably still wet, and she flushes from head to toe. Then, with a ghost of a kiss to her cheek and another hint of that expensive perfume, Lena is gone, climbing into the passenger seat of a sleek black car driven by her cute brunette friend.
Kara blinks a few times, still processing the encounter, before she opens the folded napkin. Inside, written in Lena’s shade of red lipstick, is a phone number and two scribbled words:
She absolutely, unequivocally intends to do just that. She puts the napkin carefully into her pocket, unable to wipe the smile off her face, and heads home. Alex insists that they stop at McDonalds because “the cucumber sandwiches were not filling”, and by the time they’ve scarfed down their chicken nuggets and she’s dropped Alex at her apartment, her mind has wandered a bit – at least, that’s the only explanation she could ever find for what happens next.
She sheds her champagne-stained pants and shoves them in the washing machine, absent-mindedly humming along to her tiny Bluetooth radio. She’s already formulating the witty text she’s going to send to Lena in her head, carefree and happy.
It takes her 12 minutes to realize what’s happened.
She scrolls through her contacts, looking for Lena’s number, and when she’s passed by the “L’s” three times and still not found Lena’s name, her stomach drops.
I never put it in my phone.
By the time she’s ripped open the washing machine and heaved handfuls of wet soapy clothes out and onto the floor, it’s too late. She finds her pants and reaches carefully into the pocket, but to her devastation, she finds nothing but pink napkin pulp in one pocket and Lena’s underthings in the other. It’s unsalvageable, and Kara sinks to the floor, feeling disproportionately gutted. Lena is probably going to think that Kara wasn’t interested, and Kara has no other way to find her. She doesn’t even know her last name.
Eventually she piles everything back into the washer, flopping onto her couch and digging into a pint of Ben & Jerry’s to drown her sorrows. She keeps Lena’s panties, folded neatly in the bottom of her drawer full of colourful boxer briefs, and life goes on.
Three years later…
“I hate wearing dresses. Why did you get to wear a suit?” Alex mutters, pulling down her skirt for the hundredth time, and Kara snickers.
“Because I asked first?”
“We shouldn’t have to ask what we can and can’t wear to a stupid party.” Alex grumbles in reply, and Kara is inclined to agree.
That fateful charity game, the one where a pretty girl made her fall off her horse, was a bit of a turning point for Marco Polo. James and Winn both bowed out, choosing to focus on their careers - she and Alex, on the other hand, moved from college leagues to semi-professional, and soon enough they were courting sponsors and attending events with worrying frequency. Quite frankly, Kara finds it exhausting, but their team owner insists.
Maxwell Lord is rich, self-absorbed, and misogynistic, and he – along with most of the other wealthy assholes they have to rub elbows with weekly - is a large part of the reason that she and Alex are both considering retirement from the sport. She still loves to play, but she earned a degree in journalism for a reason, and last month she found several brochures for biomedical labs hiring in the National City area stuffed into Alex’s couch.
But for now, they’re here, at a stuffy event to promote their team and mix with rich benefactors.
“I think that’s the new CEO of Luthor Corp over there.” Lord says, pointing in the direction of a woman a few tables away, tapping out what looks like a long email on her iPhone. Her face is slightly obscured by her long hair, but she seems pretty – she’s pale, dressed in a snappy blue dress that hugs her lovely curves. “Go chat her up. Lex Luthor has been generous in the past, but I’ve heard Lena isn’t planning on continuing her brother’s investments.”
“Why do I have to do it?” Kara protests, pulling her arm away from his grip. “You’re the owner.”
“I also heard she’s…you know. Like you two.” He waves his hand noncommittally, and Kara frowns.
“Like us?” Alex asks, raising a dangerous eyebrow, and Max waves her off.
“Let’s just say she’ll respond better to you than to me.”
Huffing, Kara leaves their table and heads towards the lonely CEO. She’s still a few feet away when the woman shifts, her curtain of hair moves out of the way, and Kara is fairly sure that she goes into minor cardiac arrest, because she recognizes that face.
Oh my god.
Lena Luthor looks up, there’s a few seconds of confusion on her face, and then to Kara’s mingled horror and delight it morphs into startled recognition.
“You!” She blurts, and Kara’s mouth silently opens and closes a few times.
“I – I –“
Lena’s shock calms, and she seems to collect herself, smoothing down her skirt a few times. She looks Kara up and down, and finally, she settles on a neutral smile with a tiny hint of accusation. Her next words are the last thing Kara expects to hear.
“You never called.”
Kara lets out a nervous, braying laugh, cutting it off and clearing her throat embarrassedly when Lena covers her mouth to hide a laugh at the disproportionate reaction. She’s just as beautiful as she was the afternoon they met – she’s in tight, crisp business attire instead of bougie floral prints and sunglasses, but her scrunchy smile is the same, and her eyes still crinkle when she laughs. She’s looking at Kara expectantly, and Kara realizes that she’s been staring in silence, open-mouthed, for almost 30 seconds.
Say something. Anything! Just make words with your mouth!
“I still have your underwear.”
NOT THOSE WORDS!
Lena’s face is blank for a few seconds, and Kara worries that she’s ruined the whole thing in one fell swoop. Her legs tense, fully prepared to run full-tilt away from this mortifying scenario and back to Alex. But, to her surprise, Lena dissolves into unexpected, adorable giggles. She clutches her side, leaning against the table and gasping, and Kara joins her, finally relaxing incrementally.
“Oh, god,” Lena says, wiping at her eyes and still grinning. “Of course you still have them.” She gestures at the empty seat nearby, and Kara gratefully takes it and buries her face in her hands.
“This is so unprofessional.”
“I always liked that about you,” Lena says, sitting down next to her, and Kara snorts. “You showed up to a polo social in a plaid shirt, gave a poor closeted lesbian the best orgasm of her life, stole her underwear, and then vanished. It’s good to see that you’re not as smooth as you seem.”
“Those were a gift!” Kara blurts, finally looking up from the floor in indignation, and she deflates when she sees Lena’s face – she’s pursing her lips together, clearly hiding a shit-eating grin. “Oh, you’re teasing – that’s not nice!”
“It wasn’t very nice to vanish on me, either.” A tiny, almost imperceptible sliver of vulnerability shines through Lena’s façade, and Kara is overcome with immediate, crushing guilt.
“I didn’t vanish!” She insists, shuffling closer without really thinking about it. “You wrote your number on a napkin, and then I…washed my pants.”
“You’re kidding.” Lena scoffs, eyebrow quirked, and Kara moves closer, gesturing insistently with her hands.
“No! They were soaked in champagne, remember? They smelled awful. And your number was in the pocket.”
Lena laughs incredulously, shaking her head. “This is so strange.” Her loose hair falls over her shoulders like a curtain, and Kara takes a deep, steeling breath.
“I’m sorry.” She says decisively, and Lena doesn’t bother to conceal her shock at the apology.
“I’ve always regretted losing your number.” Kara admits, shifting even closer until she’s on the edge of her chair. “Always. I ate like, 3 whole tubs of Cherry Garcia and felt like a total moron. I felt sort of creepy asking around for a pretty woman named Lena at every polo game I was at.”
Lena is quiet for a moment, and then she gives a light, quiet laugh. “I…might have gone to a few polo games I wouldn’t have normally hoping to see you.” She says, her voice low, they laugh together, shaking their heads at the ridiculousness of the situation.
Lena drums her fingers on the table, looking thoughtful. Kara can’t do much besides stare, noticing for the first time the elegant shape of her hands. They look surprisingly strong, and a tingle shimmies down her spine to settle in her lower back as they flex. She tears her eyes away when Lena starts speaking again, desperately trying to look like she wasn’t just imagining finally having Lena’s fingers inside her.
“Listen…I hadn’t planned on supporting any teams, if I’m being honest.” She admits sheepishly. Kara snorts, and Lena continues. “The whole ‘privileged sports benefactor’ act was my brother’s thing. I’m not planning on continuing most of it, except the charity leagues, but I figured I needed to at least show my face.”
“I actually don’t know how much longer I’m going to be doing this, either.” Kara admits, and Lena nods, seeming to understand.
“Well, either way…I’d like to spend more time with you. Are you free for dinner? Maybe somewhere that serves something besides pretentious hors d’oeuvres?”
Kara swallows hard, nodding silently. This Lena is somehow both similar and wildly different from the girl that Kara ravished at a polo match 3 years ago – she’s more confident, more sure of herself, but somehow she seems deeply, painfully sad. Kara wants to dig deeper, to make up for the stupid mistake she made in losing touch all that time ago.
“I’d love that.”
Kara shows up to the restaurant in burgundy chinos and a plaid button-up, and it’s so painfully reminiscent of the afternoon they met that Lena has to take a second to collect herself before she makes her presence known.
Lena hadn’t been devastated when Kara didn’t call all those years ago, but she had been a little bit disappointed. She’d be lying if she said she hadn’t showed up to a few more polo matches than she normally would have, hoping to see her again, but in the end she had just assumed that Kara had only been interested in a casual hookup, and moved on with her life. But she never forgot her out-of-character romp with the blonde athlete, and seeing her at the mixer today drinking a Stella and leaning against the table with her hand in her pocket like no time has passed had been like a bucket of cold water on her head.
She’s also loathe to admit just how long she took deciding on what to wear for this date. She hasn’t been this nervous since her appointment to CEO. Her final decision was a tight red dress she hadn’t found an occasion to wear yet, and just like that afternoon 3 years ago, she feels overdressed.
But, she thinks as Kara drinks her in appreciatively, that’s not always a bad thing.
They get themselves seated – Kara pulls out Lena’s chair for her, and Lena has to internally berate herself for how easily that makes her heart flutter – and despite the strangeness of the situation, the conversation flows easily.
“So…still playing polo?” Lena smiles over the rim of her wine glass, and Kara chuckles, filling her own from the bottle on the table.
“For now. I love playing, and being on the team with Alex is great. But it’s just not my world, you know? I’m thinking about going into sports journalism.”
“Too many desperate housewives throwing themselves at you?” Lena jokes, and Kara winces.
“You know, you joke, but that’s not too far off.”
“Hmm. Based on how we met, I should have known you were quite the player, Miss Danvers.”
Kara rubs the back of her neck, blushing at the pointed comment. “Yeah, well, you were the only one I ever actually…well, you know.” She clears her throat, tapping her fingers on the table, and starts to look around nervously. “Um. Where is that waiter, huh?”
Lena takes another long sip of wine to cover her surprise. Kara is easily the most attractive person Lena has ever been with, with her blonde waves and sunny smile and defined shoulders, and it’s genuinely shocking that she hadn’t taken advantage of her clear popularity with rich polo-watching closet cases like she was 3 years ago.
I’m the only one that she – hm.
As odd as it seems, that fact makes Lena feel sort of…special.
Lena flags the waiter down, only for Kara to sheepishly admit that she has no idea what she wants to order. It’s unnerving, the way Kara makes her feel – like her chest is tight, like something big and unstoppable is going to burst out of it whenever Kara does something particularly cute. Despite not having seen her for years, despite the slight sting she still feels that Kara didn’t keep in touch, she’s interested. Almost painfully so.
But is Kara?
They bond over a mutual love of horses over appetizers – apparently Kara’s family owns a small ranch upstate, and that’s how she got into the usually-classist sport as a person of limited means. Kara laments not getting to see the horses very often, living in the city, and Lena listens to stories about her sister Alex and her adoptive parents with rapt attention.
Finally, Kara settles back in her chair and regards Lena with open curiosity.
Lena sighs, swirling the wine in her glass. "Yes. Lex had to step down after his xenophobic breakdown - you probably heard?" Kara nods, wincing, and Lena continues. "I stepped in to save the company from whatever horror show my mother had planned. Sam and Jack have both been a big help - you remember Jack, right? From the match?"
To her relief, Kara gushes about how nice he was, and Lena is alarmed to find that she's already planning a meet-the-friends dinner for Kara in her head.
By the time dessert comes, Lena is shocked at how quickly the night went. She leans over the table to gently wipe whipped cream from the corner of Kara’s mouth with her thumb, and without thinking, she pops the digit into her mouth. The sweet taste reminds her of where she is – namely, in a dimly lit restaurant, Kara gaping at her with blown-out pupils – and she sits back down, grabbing her purse.
“You know…I live really close by.”
About half an hour later Lena wonders, as Kara works on getting her bra off, if she has some kind of magic seduction powers. Never before has Lena had this overpowering need for another person, this desire big enough to make her abandon all reason for physical pleasure. It made her risk getting caught for the sake of a clandestine hookup three years ago, and tonight it struck again as she dragged Kara into the elevator, slamming the ‘close door’ button and letting Kara pin her to the mirrored wall.
They certainly gave the building’s security guards a show.
“Kara –“ She gasps, arching fruitlessly into her warm hands. Her dress has long since been tossed haphazardly to the floor, and soon enough she’s in nothing but her panties with a fully-clothed Kara pinning her to the bed. Kara seems perfectly happy with the arrangement – she’s determined to take her time, peppering Lena’s chest with kisses but determined not to give any attention to her aching nipples. Usually Lena isn’t above begging, but part of her is actually loving the slow, teasing devotion. It reminds her of the first time, of how Kara spent several precious minutes exploring before she even took Lena’s panties off for no reason besides genuine interest.
The appreciation starts to wane the longer Kara makes her wait. By the time her hot mouth actually closes on a sensitive nub, Lena is ready to come out of her skin.
“You taste so good everywhere. How do you taste so good everywhere?” Kara mutters as she kisses her way to Lena’s other breast, and Lena laughs breathlessly.
“I don’t know, I’ve never had anyone else comment on how I – fuck!” She loses track of the witty repartee when Kara rolls her hips, starting a steady grinding rhythm. Lena’s bare legs rise up with the movement, Kara’s thighs braced under hers and her toes wiggling in the air – the slow, unfocused rubbing of lace against cotton pants reminds her of how much she wants Kara inside her, how much she needs them both to be naked this time.
Deciding to be proactive, Lena wraps her legs around Kara’s waist to keep her still and starts on the buttons of her shirt.
“Wha –“ Kara starts, frowning in confusion, “What – why are we stopping?”
“So I can take off your clothes.”
“…oh.” Kara responds, and after a few seconds, she shuffles off the bed and hurriedly starts to pull off her pants with great enthusiasm.
“Are you surprised?” Lena chuckles as Kara almost trips and falls facefirst mid-pant leg, and Kara shrugs.
“Most people I sleep with don’t seem to care either way, as long as I’m getting them off.”
She says it nonchalantly, but the simple sentence hits Lena hard. She had tried to return the favour all those years ago, but she’d panicked at the idea of getting caught and pushed Kara away. This time, Lena resolves to give just as much as she takes.
When Kara finally sheds her pants and shirt she tries to climb back onto the bed, but Lena stops her with a hand to the chest.
“Bra, too. And underwear.”
Kara swallows, and nods her assent. She slides the boxers down her legs – they have little dancing pieces of sushi on them, and Lena logs that fact away to bring up later. The bra hits the floor too, and Kara stands there for a moment, looking unsure for the first time since she stepped foot in Lena’s apartment. Lena wants to reassure her, she really does, but she honestly has no words.
Kara is stunning. She’s lean from years of riding and training, but she still has noticeable curves – her hips flare slightly, and her breasts are tipped with soft pink nipples that Lena wants to worship. They get covered up as Kara crosses her arms self-consciously.
“Is it – okay? You’re staring.”
Lena nods, her mouth slightly dry. “You’re gorgeous.”
Kara turns pink at the compliment. “You are.”
“Well then, we two beautiful people are about to have some pretty incredible sex, aren’t we?” Lena grins, and Kara finally relaxes and climbs back onto the bed, laughing all the way. She kisses her way up Lena’s legs, hooking her fingers into the waistband of the last scrap of fabric between them and pausing.
Kara’s mouth is on her before the underwear even hit the floor.
It’s soft at first, careful, and it’s not until Lena hooks her leg around Kara’s shoulder and digs a heel into her back that she seems to let herself go. It’s wet and messy and loud, Kara’s tongue working and Lena making breathy noises and Kara humming her satisfaction.
Kara whines, sucking her clit harder and tightening her grip. The possessiveness makes Lena flutter, and more than ever she wants to be tightening around something.
“Kara - I want you inside me.” Lena manages to gasp, and Kara’s moans sound almost as desperate as her own when she slips two fingers in without losing her rhythm.
“Yes –“ Lena hisses, digging her nails into Kara’s shoulder. She spreads herself wider, rolls her own nipple between her shaking fingers, and angles her hips to give Kara more access.
“Harder – fuck me harder, please -“
Kara moans, her mouth reluctantly leaving Lena’s clit so that she can move back and brace herself against the mattress. She keeps watching Lena’s cunt with a hungry expression, looking like the only thing keeping her from letting loose and burying her face there again is Lena’s request, and the pure desperation in her face – desperation for Lena, just to be tasting her again – is almost enough to make her come. Kara’s pace doubles, her knuckles ramming Lena’s entrance and her thumb making messy strokes, and it’s fucking perfect, it’s everything, it’s -
Her muscles lock, the sky opens, and Lena sees god in Kara’s sweaty face. She loses control of her voice - she knows she’s crying out pathetically, clutching at the sheets as she writhes under Kara’s strong grip. For a few precious seconds, nothing exists outside the two of them, tangled in Lena’s damp sheets.
She’s overcome with an intense sense of deja-vu, lying there and catching her breath. Kara lays her face on Lena’s pelvis, her heavy breaths hot on sweaty skin. She traces reverently over the faint stretchmarks on Lena’s inner thighs, and Lena has a visceral flashback to leaning against a barn on shaking limbs with Kara’s blonde hair moving between her legs, of soft fingers tracing every imperfection.
“You know,” Lena finally says, running her fingers through Kara’s tangled mane of hair, “This is the second time you’ve ravished me before I even got a chance to touch you.”
Kara chuckles, still not moving from her spot. “That’s just how Kara Danvers rolls.”
“We’re going to have to change that.”
Lena wakes up the next morning with 6 hickeys, a worn-out blonde sleeping on her chest, and a brand-new appreciation for the sport of polo.