Dinner prep that evening is a fairly straightforward affair, with Lena deciding on a simple risotto. It's also an infinitely stranger one than the previous night. Where the evening before Lena had felt almost lonely in the kitchen until Kara had volunteered her help, tonight she finds herself having to shoo people away.
Alex, in particular, seems very interested in placing her body in whatever space there is between her sister and Lena herself.
It’s making Sam grumble and frown in her seat at the kitchen island, so Lena doesn’t mind it much.
“Who wants to cut these into half rings for me?” Lena asks, holding up a couple of leeks, and already three people are volunteering. Alex wins, pointing out that Kara’s glass of wine is empty and therefore neither she nor Ruby should be handling knives.
“Always looking out for everyone else, my big sister,” Kara says, pleased, petting Alex’ head a little roughly.
“Back off,” Alex warns her. “This thing is very sharp.”
“Kara, parsley, fridge,” Lena instructs.
“Alex started teaching me life’s important lessons when I was twelve,” Kara tells Lena over Alex’s shoulder. Her sister seems to be deliberately taking up space at the counter, wedging them apart.
Lena looks at Alex, amused. “Is that so? And how old were you?”
“Fourteen,” Alex confesses, “But wise beyond my years.”
“Hey,” Ruby protests, turning toward Alex so furiously that Lena ends up with some of her ponytail in her mouth.
“Like this one!” Alex amends, reaching behind Lena to poke at Ruby’s ribs. “Lots of wisdom in this one, too.”
Kara tosses a bag of greens over Alex’s head. Lena is proud of herself for catching it. After a moment’s consideration, she tosses it back. “Parsley,” she tells Kara. That is baby spinach.”
Kara hums, opening the refrigerator again. “What was it you told me? That I was not very brave, or all that funny—“
From her barstool, Sam snorts. “That was the professional estimation of miss Killjoy over here? I’m amazed.”
“ You can shut right up,” Alex tells her sweetly.
“... and that I didn’t run very fast,” Kara continues.
“Still true actually, that one,” Alex pontificates with the beer bottle she’s traded for the knife in her hand. “Meet us at the park any given Sunday morning and watch her eat my dust.”
Forcibly pushing past her sister this time, Kara presents Lena with a bunch of leafy greens. “Kara,” Lena says. “I said parsley. This is basil.”
Kara frowns, takes it back, heads for the fridge again.
“And you seemed plenty quick this afternoon,” Lena remarks pointedly. “If that’s called ‘not very fast’, Alex, I may just have to take you up on your offer. It’s time I get this useless body back in shape, anyway. Kara, are you seriously trying to hand me a bunch of carrots right now?”
Kara isn’t listening, because she’s too busy checking her out, taking Lena’s words as permission to let her eyes roam freely over Lena’s form — or what’s visible of it underneath her many, many, many layers of clothing.
Ruby is frowning at Lena. “You should be kinder to yourself,” she says. “All bodies are good bodies.”
Sam’s eyes light up when Ruby’s words sink in and she sits up, pointing at her daughter with both hands, victorious. “Boom!” she exclaims. “I knew I raised this kid right.”
“Also,” Ruby adds, “that booty is bodacious. So.”
Sam blinks at her daughter, slowly dropping her arms. She takes a pull from her beer bottle, swallows, then says, “I’m going to have to give up my principles and transfer you to a private school, aren’t I.”
“She’s not wrong, though,” Kara chimes in, adding, with another heavy look down Lena’s body, “You look like you’re in fine shape, to me.”
At that, Alex too takes a deep drink from her beer.
The thing is, Kara said it casually, easy as pie, and she’s not even looking at Lena anymore, instead digging a fork into one of the Jerusalem artichoke chips sizzling in the frying pan Lena has been stirring. She looks exceptionally pretty, with the warm light on her face, her fingers graceful against the glinting silver, sucking on her lip in anticipation of tasting something she knows is going to be good.
Lena isn’t staring so much as she’s collecting scientific data. She needs to figure out the baseline for this woman, or she’ll continue to drive herself crazy wondering if she’s actually interested in her, or just an idiot.
Kara burns her mouth again. So it’s likely the second thing.
After dessert, with everyone lingering at the dining room table, Sam switches out their wine glasses and beer bottles for tumblers and sets a bottle of Glenfiddich down between them. “Time for bed, Rubes,” she decides. “Mommy’s about to get her drink on.”
Ruby sneers. “Gross.” She seems happy about getting to skip the dishes, though, hurrying upstairs before Sam realizes what she’s done.
“That girl’s getting some serious texting action this week,” Sam remarks when her daughter is out of earshot. “Has to be a boy, right? Has to be. She won’t tell me, though.”
“Ew,” Alex says, “boys,” before pouring them all two fingers of scotch each.
“Hey,” Sam says, “In this house we embrace the full spectrum of sexual attraction.” She takes her glass and holds it up as if in a toast. “No kink shaming.”
“Are you calling heterosexuality a kink?” Lena asks, amused.
“No,” Sam says firmly, “I call that an abomination. Love thy ace and bi and pan neighbors, though.”
“I do,” Alex says, kissing Sam’s cheek and smiling at Kara.
“I worry, though,” Sam says. “She’s not that much younger than I was when I started making some very bad decisions.”
“I think you might be doing a slightly better job than your mother did keeping you on the straight and narrow,” Lena tells her, before hearing how that sounds and frowning.
“Oh god, I would be so thrilled though, if she were crushing on a girl instead,” Sam says. “Is that horrible? I am not ready to become a grandmother, and I don't think I will be for at least another ten years.” She cringes. “Even if at that point I’ll be getting up there a bit.”
Alex flinches. “Don’t you dare,” she says. “You’re younger than all of us and I have seven years on you. None of us is ‘getting up there.’”
“Yeah?” Sam says. “Someone may want to give my breasts the memo.”
“You have beautiful breasts!” Lena and Kara protest, passionately and in perfect sync.
A couple of things happen at once.
First, neither one of the women who praised Sam’s (honestly pretty fucking amazing) breasts are the one that’s currently dating her, so a series of significant glances is exchanged: Alex gives Lena a warning glare, almost as a reflex, while Sam throws a flirtatious wink at Kara, who raises her eyebrows and her glass to her — then Alex does a slack-jawed double take at Kara while Sam flashes Lena a self-indulgent grin.
“Been a while,” Sam leers at Lena from under those dark lashes, “Not sure you’re still able to give a correct assessment.”
“Did you see my girlfriend naked?” Alex asks her sister, incredulously, at the same time Kara pipes up with “Wait, you two used to date?”
Sam is already smiling in that dangerous way that she does, and Lena is trying to stare her down without being too obvious, which is how Lena usually ends up mumbling into her glass trying desperately to look aloof while Sam spills every deeply private moment they’ve ever shared.
“Oh honey, you’re already blushing,” Sam tells her with an expression on her face that broadcasts the exact opposite message from the one her tone of voice conveys. “I was really hoping you’d be used to it by now.”
Alex cuts in, mercifully. “Do not make me listen to you talk about our very dear, very present friend’s favorite strap again. Do not.”
Sam shoots Lena a wolfish smile, then glints her eyes at Kara, holds her hands about a foot and a half apart and mouths ‘big’.
Lena could murder Sam right now, but that would mean losing the bet and having to pay Jess twenty bucks, so she’s at a pretty impossible impasse.
Alex closes her eyes in defeat. ”I wish you hadn’t done that.”
Kara has thrown her head back and is laughing freely. Lena is briefly distracted, fascinated by the way the exposed lines of her throat somehow manage to look vulnerable and strong at the same time. Lena shakes with what is equal parts mortification and the tremendous effort required to keep from reaching out and running her fingers along the smooth skin revealed there.
“Relax, babe,” Sam tells her girlfriend, a soothing hand at her back. “At least I’m not talking about you.” She winks at her. “This time.”
Alex puffs out a breath. “I would just very much like to never have to go to dinner again with people I have never met once in my life, and have you eagerly inform them of the brand of our favorite toy or which one of us does most of the topping.”
“I love topping,” Kara sighs, and Lena can’t help but look over, a little scandalized. But Kara follows it up with a dreamy “Raspberry swirl is my favorite, but hot fudge and vanilla are pretty amazing too,” so now Lena can't decide if she’s talking about sex or food.
Sam seems to have no such problem. “Amen, little sister,” she says with a broad grin, raising her glass before drinking deeply.
“Sam,” it’s Alex, “How many times do I have to tell you—”
“That you’re no fun?”
“—not to discuss our sex life with your friends!”
Sam pouts. “But how else will they know how awesome I am?”
Alex groans and leans her forehead on Sam’s nearest shoulder. “You make me so mad,” she says, her voice muffled by Sam’s sweater, “Remind me again why I haven’t left you yet?”
“Because you love me,” Sam tells her, looking pleased.
Alex hums, then reaches up to grab her chin, a little roughly. She presses her lips to Sam’s before leaning back in her chair again.
“So,” Kara says to Sam, looking intrigued, “between the two of you...” she leans toward her while giving Lena a shit-eating grin. “I guess that would make Lena more of a —”
“Not. Another. Word,” Alex says, her tone so low and threatening now that the whole table goes still for a moment. Lena gives her a look meant to convey her gratitude, but Alex’s eyes are boring into Sam’s.
Sam straightens. “I don’t kiss and tell,” she informs Kara sweetly, making Kara frown at her sister and surprising Lena enough that she just barely manages to not spit her sip of scotch back into her glass.
“Since when?” she blurts, like an idiot, ignoring the look of delight it puts on Kara’s face.
Alex says primly, looking proud of herself, “Since I explained to her that it’s distasteful and not everyone needs to hear about everyone else’s private business.”
Lena can only blink. “What.” Impossible. “I’ve been trying to hammer that into her head for almost a decade. How did you manage to—?”
“She said no orgasms for a week each time it happens,” Sam blurts.
Alex goes crimson, and then Sam gets nervous and apologetic, and it becomes this whole comedic routine that goes on for a while and that Lena can’t help but laugh at, especially since Kara is already giggling bonelessly in a way that just might be more contagious than the flu strain Lena played around with in grad school.
Kara is throwing her head back again, and her neck is lovely, and right there —
Kara catches her looking, and her laughter halts on a little breathless hum. Her eyes hold hers, looking sharply amused, until Lena looks away. “So, wait,” she hears Kara say to Sam, “is this a cumulative kind of punishment, or…”
Sam looks ecstatic at having found a loophole. “No!” she yells, then looks, chastised, in the direction Ruby disappeared to. Then, squeezing her girlfriend’s hand in apology but ignoring her answering glare, in a voice a little over a whisper, “The damage is done. What do you want to know?”
Lena raises an eyebrow and her chin in a double-whammy-kill-bill-siren-warranting move that men with twice the strength and stature of Sam Arias have failed to recover from. “This ends here,” she informs her.
But Sam is not so easily intimidated. “C’mon,” she says in a smooth, almost seductive voice. “Don’t pretend you don’t love being teased. What’s a little bit of harmless humiliation between friends?” She gives Lena a look so darkly suggestive it reminds her of a time they weren’t friends, they were something else entirely, and it’s so brazen Lena forgets to be indignant.
“Wait, hang on a second,” Kara says, now turning to Lena fully and leaning in a little. Or, a lot.
Lena meets her gaze headlong, feeling vulnerable, and fine. Let’s hear it, she thinks, lay it on me, sure in this moment she’d willingly unfold it all for her, every depraved inch of herself, every exquisite cruelty she’s wanted Kara to inflict on her.
Kara is gazing at her intently. When she’s this close, under the spotlights above the dining room table, Lena can see her blue eyes sparkle and flash. She can count every freckle on her face, the pale individual hairs of her eyebrows. Kara’s mouth twitches before she licks her lip. The flash of pink of her tongue is telling Lena to relinquish life and await her redemption in death.
“I have this impression,” Kara says, staring, and Lena has the distinct feeling she’s been in this exact moment before, probably because she has, “and if I’m wrong, I apologize, but I need to ask.”
The whole table goes quiet and still. Lena is utterly captivated by the expression on Kara’s face and the determined way she’s holding her gaze, moving only to flicker back and forth between Lena’s eyes, but Lena’s still aware that Sam is watching them, and she is pretty sure Sam is no longer breathing. From the corner of her eye, Lena can see that Alex is white-knuckling the bottle of scotch, looking primed to pour it out right over Kara’s head, but she’s frozen for the moment, watching them like one would one of those Seconds From Disaster documentaries.
After a brief moment, during which Alex ages ten years, Kara finally asks, “Are your eyes actually two different colors, or is that just a trick of the light?”
Lena Luthor needs a drink.
Fortunately Alex is already there, and Lena only needs to hold out her glass for Alex to fill it with a triumphant look on her face. Sam is rubbing her own temples as if she’s trying to get rid of a headache.
“Okay, so,” Kara says after Alex has finished refilling the rest of their glasses, “What is the most humiliating thing you’ve ever done for a crush?”
And Lena is still dying a little, because clearly Kara isn’t quite willing to let go of that particular thread, although she’s grateful to her for steering the conversation towards slightly safer territory.
Sam has her answer ready. “Joining a hot yoga class.” She snorts with distaste. “Never again.”
Kara squints at her. “Did you injure yourself or something?”
“No,” Sam says. “It was just. God, that place reeked. I was turned off of people in general for like. A week.”
“I find that hard to believe,” Lena says smoothly.
“That’s hardly humiliating,” Kara declares. “Try enlisting your entire cheerleading squad to help you convince your high school principal it’s normal for girls to hug each other with their legs in friendship after a teacher catches you making out with Siobhan Smythe.”
Lena chokes. “You did not.”
“She really did,” Alex says. “You know I met her as a resident later, right? Still closeted. Still the thirstiest woman I’ve ever met in my life.”
Sam gives her girlfriend a fond look. “What about you, babe?”
Alex frowns down at her drink. “Oh, you’ve heard this one: coming out to my friends and family before I was ready, because she didn’t want to date someone who was ‘scared of herself’.” She takes a deep drink before adding, “And then getting dumped anyway because she wasn’t into ‘showing a newbie the ropes’.”
“I mean,” Lena posits, “I guess I can understand her perspective too?” Alex glares at her. “But ugh,” Lena winces in sympathy. “Women. I’m sorry we suck so much.”
“I’m not,” Sam quips.
“Boo, too easy,” Kara heckles her. “Lena, let’s hear yours.”
Lena runs her forefinger over the rim of her glass. “How about saving her father’s failing tech company from bankruptcy by becoming the majority shareholder and steering it well into the Fortune 500,” she offers, “and then handing it all over for free in the settlement she had her lawyers present to me when my brother was arrested?”
Sam breathes out cautiously. “Andrea was a little bit more than a crush.”
Lena cocks her eyebrow. “Maybe to me.”
“Wait,” Kara says. “Are you talking about Andrea Rojas from Obsidian North?” Her tongue trips on a failed attempt at the correct pronunciation of Andrea’s name. “You two were involved?”
Lena hums. “Back when the Luthor name was still worth something and everyone was searching for an in. She approached me at a premiere party, and we dated for a while.”
“I’d say nine months is a while, yeah,” Sam adds.
“It was,” Lena agrees. It was shamefully long, actually, considering it had taken her all that time to figure out that their entire relationship was based solely on Andrea’s hunger for fame. “Too bad it turned out I was little more to her than an inside scoop she could use to drive up her follower count on Instagram.”
Kara is looking at something on her phone again. Lena hopes she’ll find the photos that were taken that first night they were introduced; that emerald backless dress she’d worn had made her shoulders and her ass look amazing.
“Hang on a second,” Kara shouts. “You had a speaking part in a Batman movie?”
“Outlandish lies,” Lena tells her. “Bruce Wayne was a friend of mine, at the time, and we had brunch on set one morning. They got me to say three lines on camera, tops.”
Sam is watching her with that familiar, soft look in her eyes that Lena really wishes she would use only when Lena is in need of a good cry. “You know she wasn’t worth your time,” she says.
Lena attempts a smile, but knows how bitter it must look. “But she meant something to me.”
Kara looks as if her own heart is breaking. “She never loved you?”
Lena shrugs, keeping her eyes on her glass. “No more than she would have loved any expensive piece of jewelry she could show off at black tie events. Something to make her feel powerful. A secret to hold in the palm of her hand and turn over and think to herself, ‘Not all she pretends to be.’”
The table has gone quiet. When Lena looks up, everyone is looking at her with varying degrees of empathy in their eyes. Alex looks a frightening amount like she’s about to get up and hug her, as if she’s just barely holding herself back.
Lena swipes her hand over her face. “I have a lot of issues involving trust and honesty, okay.”
Sam reaches all the way across the table to grab her hand, and smiles. “Don’t forget about the mommy issues,” she says encouragingly. Then, to what Lena is sure is no one in particular, “And she’s single, ladies!”
“I know.” Lena is almost surprised when she ends her exhale on a giggle. “Why, right?”
Against her better judgment, she chances a glance at Kara.
When their eyes meet, the lines around Kara’s eyes smooth as her expression changes from fond concern to dark interest. It’s something Lena isn’t quite sure she’s seen so far, her pupils so wide her eyes are almost completely black, even in the bright light above them.
It’s a look Lena recognizes. A look that tugs at her, pulling that cello string inside of her tight again.
Waiting for the player’s first bold move.
Oh, Lena thinks. Oh. I see.
“I think we all need to take a break and drink some water,” Alex suggests, pushing herself up out of her chair. “I, personally, would prefer not to feel like death in the morning.”
“Agreed,” Lena says, blinking up at her. “Please have a double waiting for me when I come back.”
Lena flees the kitchen, careful to slow her stride so it doesn’t look like she’s making an escape, careful to take measured breaths, attempting to calm down the hammering heart inside her chest.
The light in the hallway bathroom is dim and forgiving, and Lena thanks a number of deities from various religions for the small mercies they’re still willing bestow upon her, in spite of her numerous sins.
At least, Lena thinks, smiling at her reflection in the mirror as she washes her hands, it seems she might not be the only one involved in this queer little entanglement that’s interested in sinning.
She closes the bathroom door behind her, preoccupied with the possibilities, with all the ways she might have Kara in her bed again tonight. She’s calculating distance and temperature, and speed, and the range of motion the average human body is capable of. She’s adjusting for their respective levels of inebriation and temerity. In other words, she’s a little distracted, so when suddenly there’s a firm, broad hand at her hip, she’s a little surprised.
It’s a pleasant surprise, though, when she also feels Kara’s breath on her cheek, the brush of her hair on her collarbone.
“Sorry,” Kara says, in a voice that makes it very clear she’s not sorry at all. She also doesn’t step away.
Lena lifts her eyes to Kara’s in a slow, appreciative glide, after lingering perhaps a little too long on her lips.
“What is it now?” she asks, a little too loose, a little too salty in the way she gets when she’s been drinking scotch instead of wine. “What do you want this time? Would you like to bake some cookies? Is it time for your second dessert?”
For a moment Kara looks like she’s genuinely tempted by her offer, but she recovers quickly, meeting Lena’s eyes and her insolence head-on. Her lips part. Then she says, “I think you know what I want.”
Lena feels hot all over at the words, but she’s been fooled too many times already and she wills her body not to fall for it again. She may just sound the faintest bit bitter when she asks, “Then what the fuck are you waiting for?”
But Kara doesn’t seem intimidated, just thoughtful. “It’s something Alex said.”
“You know they have a bet going?” Lena says. “Her and Sam. And my assistant, too.”
Kara’s lip curves up in a curious smile. “What kind of a bet?”
Lena clenches her jaw. “What did Alex say?”
Lena can think of a thousand pieces of ammunition Alex Danvers could have used to curtail Kara’s interest in pursuing her. Lena Luthor is a jaded member of National City’s royalty fallen from grace; an out of touch, world-weary snob. She’s damaged and in denial. She refuses to wear appropriate protective gear for handling hazardous materials when conducting experiments down in the L-Corp labs.
Kara’s lips are twitching. “She said you like to be in charge.”
Kara shrugs. “So I’ve been waiting, I guess, for you to make the first move. But you wouldn’t, and so I figured maybe I was misreading —”
“Kara.” Lena does manage to sound commanding just there, an echo of the queen-among-men brand of authority she’s perfected as part of her professional visage.
Kara stops talking abruptly, regards her with slight apprehension.
“Your sister was lying,” Lena says, stepping closer into Kara’s space.
Kara watches her advance, her eyes alert. “I’m beginning to realize that.”
“So let me ask you again,” Lena continues, now directly addressing Kara’s lips. “What do you want?”
Kara’s tongue slides slowly past the space between her lips. “I want to kiss you,” she says.
Lena tilts her chin, slants her eyes up to meet Kara’s again. “So kiss me.”
And Kara leans in to do just that.
At least, that’s what Lena thinks is happening, until Kara stops and keeps Lena from closing the distance remaining with only a whisper of space left between their lips.
“Aren’t you going to make me say it?” Kara asks, a teasing lilt in her voice.
Lena frowns in confusion, her brain working hard to process the sudden reality of Kara’s body pressed close — and, finally, with obvious intent — against her own.
“I’m aware,” Kara says slowly, laying a heavy hand on Lena’s waist, “that you’re hot.”
Kara steps into Lena’s body, her hand now a firm grip on Lena’s hip, and begins walking her backwards until Lena feels the wood paneling of the wall behind her. “And I’ll be careful,” she continues, leaning down and nosing into her hair, into the sensitive skin just below the hinge of Lena’s jaw. “Even though you smell delicious—” She breathes the final words directly into her ear. “Even though I know you’ll taste divine.”
Lena Luthor doesn’t think she’s ever been angrier at herself for wanting to fuck someone — and she’s survived a prolonged, crippling sexual obsession with one of her brother’s girlfriends.
”Oh my god, Kara,” she groans, bringing up a hand to rub her brow, “I can not believe —” but Kara swats her hand away, presses it into the wall next to her head and slants her lips against Lena’s, all in one bold move.
Kara kisses exactly the way Lena feared she might — with focused intent, confidence and impossible sweetness — and already Lena knows this can’t possibly be the last time it happens. She wants infinitely more of exactly this, but also, maybe, a little extra, with perhaps a layer or two less of her beloved / loathsome thermal underwear.
Lena brings up her free hand to tangle it in Kara’s ridiculously perfect hair and drags the tip of her tongue over the crease between Kara’s lips, making Kara gasp and then push back with her own, soft but a little messy, teasing, exquisite.
Lena bucks back against Kara’s unyielding frame, her legs going wobbly to the point of bonelessness when Kara runs a large hand over her ass and squeezes her closer.
“Why didn’t we do this sooner?” Lena asks, feeling breathless and unsteady and overwhelmed with need.
“Because we’re idiots,” Kara answers.
Lena is far too intelligent to ignore the fact that Alex and Sam will understand what’s happening if Lena and Kara linger here for too long. She attempts to calculate the odds of Sam popping around the corner to ask if they want to borrow one of her straps, but math is hard, and Lena is too busy surrendering her lips to Kara’s and melting at the feeling of her licking into her mouth to bother much with it.
Maybe, you know, maybe it’s fine. Lena may even take Sam up on the offer, if it comes to that, especially if Kara keeps pawing at her body the way she is. Lena’s almost mournful when one of Kara’s hands leaves her ass, but sighs when it settles on her breast, stroking her with a firm thumb. Lena realizes that she’s clutching Kara’s shoulders, and takes the opportunity to dig her fingers into the flexing muscles she’s been very absolutely not lusting after when Kara rubs her lower lip over the edge of Lena’s own in what feels like a very deliberate move to smudge her lipstick.
Lena breaks away to touch her fingers to the smear. “Did you have to do that?”
“Yes,” Kara says. “I’ve wanted to do that since the moment we met.”
Lena is torn between annoyance and the need to kiss her again. “I can’t go back out there looking like this.”
“Then don’t.” Kara’s eyes are positively burning now. “I’ll tell them you had too much to drink.”
“Sam will never buy that,” Lena says, thinking. “Tell her I have a migraine. She’ll know to leave me alone for the rest of the night.”
Her words sink heavily down in the space between their bodies. Lena licks her lips. She really needs Kara to kiss her again.
“Go on,” Kara says. “I promise I won’t keep you waiting long.”
Lena doesn’t bother with the bathroom mirror as she brushes her teeth this time. She keeps the lights off as she washes up and makes her way to the bedroom, feeling flustered and reckless. It’s cool there, and quiet. Inside Lena is bright, and hot, and loud. It can’t be the alcohol, she knows. She routinely drinks five glasses of scotch just to get from work to sleep mode, and yet she doesn’t think she’s ever felt more intoxicated as she does now.
A wave of fluttering, almost giddy anticipation washes over her when Kara enters, clicking the door shut behind her. She looks hauntingly handsome, like the cover of a Harlequin novel, only 100% (50%?) more gay.
She also has a bag of frozen peas in her hand.
Kara regards her, and it, sheepishly as she tosses it between her hands. “Sam sent me up with it.”
Lena raises one eyebrow. “I guess you really sold the migraine.”
Kara drops it on the dresser and takes two long strides across the room, and then they’re kissing again. Kara’s hands come up to cradle Lena’s jaw, and they’re oh god they’re so cold, Lena gasps at the frigid touch, but Kara only sees it as an invitation to press her tongue past the precipice of Lena’s lips, finding her own, tracing it delicately, the heat of her mouth forming an exquisite contrast to the the chill of her fingers against the pulse in her throat.
Maybe Lena is one for temperature play, after all.
“Stay there,” Kara says, planting a steady hand on Lena’s hip as she moves around her. Lena hums when strong arms encircle her waist from behind. Kara’s fingers press against her firmly, trying to compensate for the ridiculous amount of clothing Lena is wearing. Her thumbs glance the underside of her breasts.
Kara’s breath is hot in her ear. “I wanted to do this when you first climbed into my bed.”
She pulls Lena close, warm and solid along her back like she had been that first night, but this time her hands dip under her sweater, and her undershirt, and her thermal underwear, and cup her breasts, digging her thumbs into the padding of the bra that’s still, tragically, covering them. But Lena is sensitive there, and even with the sensation muted like it is, she swoons. Her head rolls back, gratefully supported by the firm comfort of Kara’s shoulder.
So, Lena thinks, Kara is smooth, but she’s also a liar. She hums. “Is that why you slept so soundly through the night?” she feels the urge to ask.
Kara reaches one hand up to brush Lena’s hair out of her way, her fingers tracing over the top of Lena’s shoulder. “I dreamed about you.”
Lena has to roll her eyes at that. “Oh please,” she says.
Kara just hums, approvingly. Her voice is tinged with dark amusement when she says, “You’re already begging. I’ll take that as a good sign.”
“Don’t be a dickh—,” Lena says, unable to stop herself, but the last part of the word is cut from her breath when Kara’s fingertips brush over the nape of her neck. There’s a shock of sensitivity there, surprising both of them. Kara seems to approve, repeating the caress, and Lena bites back a moan, blushing as her body bucks and shakes.
“Don’t do that,” Kara says. “I want your voice. I want to hear what I do to you.”
The words and the tone in which she’s said them hit Lena like a shot of tequila, warmth pooling between her legs and lingering there. “We’re in a house filled with people,” she protests feebly, almost unable to gather enough breath to say it.
“And have you heard a peep from the other bedrooms?” Kara asks. “Ruby snores like a trucker. Sam and Alex get up to all sorts of things at night.”
Lena breathes out a laugh, and then just breathes, as Kara’s fingers slide over her nape again. It sends a lascivious frisson down her back, thudding down, down, down, and this time Lena does moan, helpless and stunned. She feels like a conduit, the electrified feeling on her skin that happens right before goosebumps rise, every inch of her on high alert. Kara brushes her fingers along Lena’s collarbone and she wants to catch fire. Every part of her where Kara is lights up, sparks; everywhere she’s not shivers and wants.
“Do you want me to use the scissors, this time?” Kara asks, like a boob.
Lena shoves a half-hearted elbow into her ribs. “You did just fine this morning.”
“That’s what I thought,” Kara says, sounding pleased with herself. The smug confidence in her voice makes Lena clench with equal amounts of arousal and irritation.
“Don’t sound so proud,” Lena warns her, “I may still change my m—”
Kara puts her tongue against the spot her fingers had found earlier, licking up to just below her ear, and the pleasure is so immediate and so distinct that it makes Lena shudder and gasp; first with relief, and then with urgent need. Kara responds eagerly, almost greedy, fisting a hand into the hair at the back of Lena’s head and tilting it to expose more of her neck. Her mouth is so hot Lena feels it like a brand wherever it touches her skin.
In a much more enjoyable repeat performance of this morning’s bathroom encounter, Kara hooks her thumbs under the hem of Lena’s thermal underwear top and slips it off, taking her undershirt and her sweater with it. Her fingers are warmer, now, deliberately stroking her skin, taking their time. Lena shivers when she feels Kara trace them up her spine, circling the birthmarks on her back before hesitating at the clasp of her bra.
“Lena,” Kara says, now sounding clearly affected, her voice slightly raspy, “Are you sure about this? We can cool this down if you want, and talk—”
Lena turns toward her, Kara’s fingers never once losing contact with her skin as she moves. “What I want,” Lena enunciates, “very much,” with a firm hand on Kara’s chest and not a trace of modesty, “is for you to fuck me tonight.”
Kara stares at her, blushing, her lips a perfectly rounded ‘o’.
Lena moves her hand down, splaying it over one of Kara’s breasts, applying gentle pressure there before moving down further, skidding over what she realizes has to be a set of clearly defined abs. “Assuming you would be... amenable to that,” she emphasizes.
“I’m, I —” Kara says, blinking with obvious effort, “Yes. Please.”
Lena raises an amused eyebrow. “And I thought I would be the one doing the begging.”
“Only if you —” Kara says, her eyes moving wildly between Lena’s. “I mean.” She straightens. “Not if you don’t take off your bra. Right now.”
Lena smirks charitably. Her hand is already at her back, undoing the clasp in a practiced two-finger move.
She’s never seen Kara’s eyes look so large, or so hungry, before.
Lena only has time for a brief triumphant smile at the look on Kara’s face before the cold air hits her chest, making her shiver and ramping up her sensitivity by about a thousand hertz. When Kara finally stops staring and starts touching, Lena’s already half gone.
Kara is clever hands and harsh breath and wet heat, her fingers tracing the curve of her waist, lightly scratching the back of her arms before grazing her breasts. Her mouth is slick along the length of Lena’s throat, down her collarbone, the side of her breasts, never quite reaching the subtle ridges and creases at their crest where Lena needs it the most.
Lena isn’t sure if Kara is teasing her or trying to pace herself. She’s not so much kissing her as she is dragging her bottom lip along her skin and flicking out her tongue, sometimes sucking, sometimes grazing her skin with her teeth, as if she’s genuinely just enjoying the taste of her. She keeps coming back and starting over as if she’s distracted, as if she’s already half out of her mind.
It’s graceless, it’s messy, it’s completely unselfconscious, and it’s absolutely, bewilderingly hot.
Kara seems perfectly content to limit herself to the parts of Lena that are already uncovered, but Lena doesn’t think she can stand this directionless grazing much longer. There’s a slow throb heavy between her legs, and it gets heavier with each soft touch of Kara’s tongue. She needs — more, she wants —
“Your mouth,” she manages, blinking away the thick fog of arousal briefly to find her words. “Please, I need —,” and mercifully, Kara doesn’t need her to say any more before she’s moved down and closed her lips around one of her breasts. Lena cries out, arching into the clever touch of her tongue, at the shocking spike of pleasure and relief.
Lena finds it hard to believe that she’s still standing, that her trembling legs are capable of supporting the full weight of her desire.
As soon as the thought occurs to her, Kara is fitting two broad palms around her ass and lifting her up. Lifting her, like it’s nothing, like Lena wasn’t frowning at herself in the mirror just this morning and making urgent plans to maybe begin taking advantage again of L-Corp’s gym on nights she doesn’t have a better excuse to stay at the office late.
It’s disorienting, and maybe a little bit wonderful. Lena doesn’t think she’s been carried by another human being since she was four years old.
“Your place or mine?” Kara smirks up at her, not a trace of exertion in her voice.
Kara may not be completely human, Lena thinks.
She’s okay with it.
She doesn’t really want to answer her either way, reveling as she is in the sensation of being so thoroughly held. It makes her feel light and heavy at once, light in her head and heavy in the place between her thighs where she’s pressed firmly against Kara. She runs her fingers down Kara’s shoulders and upper arms, grips the muscles there. Kara seems perfectly willing to indulge her.
“Yours is closer,” Lena says eventually. “So take me to mine.”
Kara laughs and walks, perhaps a bit slower than strictly necessary, to the bed at the far side of the room. She kisses Lena again, sloppy and a little wet, making Lena whimper and sigh, her thighs twitching restlessly.
Kara lowers her gingerly down onto her bed. But Lena doesn’t want gingerly. They've been holding themselves back long enough, she thinks, and she can’t stand the idea of it a moment longer, so she glides her hands behind Kara’s neck, tangling her fingers in that stupid, perfect hair, and digs her heels into Kara’s lower back until Kara comes down heavily on top of her, both of their breaths coming out in a huff.
Kara blinks down at her. “I’m sorry about that,” she says.
“I’m not.” Lena feels mesmerized, hypnotized, drunk. All of her focus is zeroed in on the places where she has Kara: on the way she’s captured securely between her thighs, Lena’s calves pressed against Kara’s ass; on the magnificent weight of her, pushing her down solid and sure, trapped between Kara’s warm body and the cool mattress at her back.
Kara’s tongue is in Lena’s ear — something that should make her want to jump out of her skin, but instead just makes her want, her body arching into Kara’s, hips bucking gracelessly in a desperate search for friction. Kara’s hands are grabbing the back of her thighs, lifting Lena’s hips to grind their bodies together. Lena feels her lower back slacken at the authoritative gesture, the slow drag of Kara’s hips between her own setting off an increasingly insistent throbbing between her legs.
“Who even are you right now,” Lena wonders, a tiny bit piqued at the tremor in her voice, “where have you been hiding all of this?”
Kara answers by finally slotting a firm thigh between Lena’s own, in a mirror image of the way they had been entangled here this morning. Lena’s hips jump forward reflexively, a strangled moan wrenching itself from her throat. This time, Lena doesn’t have to hold back — this time she allows herself to roll her hips up into Kara, searching, gasping in relief, reveling in the slow, deliberate motion of their bodies, in the way they fit together.
She bites down on Kara’s shoulder and gets a mouth full of soft wool. Absently, she realizes she should be grateful for not having to explain at breakfast tomorrow why there’s a perfect imprint of Lena’s teeth on Kara’s collarbone.
“Tell me what feels good,” Kara says, breathing the demand into the sensitive skin just below her ear. What feels good? It all feels good. Right there, she wants to say each time Kara moves, and just like that, but all she can think to vocalize is kiss me, touch me, push all of yourself against and around and inside of me.
“Need you,” she manages, “I’m close, I don’t—”
And she is, she realizes, with some bewilderment, and this is not — Kara is fully dressed, Lena naked only from the waist up. Why are they making out like high school students in the back of the auditorium? More importantly, why does Lena feel so tightly wound, whimpering helplessly at every drag of Kara’s thigh against her, so close already that she fears one more well-timed press of Kara’s hands on the back of her thighs could set her off, bringing this entire thing to an end before they’ve even gotten started? Before she’s even properly touched her?
Kara’s voice is thick, reminding her exactly how perceptive Kara is when it comes to Lena, even now, when she asks, her lips brushing her own, “Can you come like this?”
“I‘m — I’m not sure,” Lena says, absolutely certain now that she can but not sure she wants to, not ready for this to be over. Wanting to last. “I want to feel you. All of you,” she adds, tugging at the collar of Kara’s sweater.
“You will,” Kara promises, pressing a kiss against her lips. Lena feels her smile against her mouth when she follows it with, “Gonna make you come, first.”
And, well. Sweet mother of god, and all of that.
Kara takes Lena’s moan as permission to begin driving her in earnest, cradling Lena's hips in her hands, setting a steady pace at which their bodies meet and part, dragging Lena’s body up and down her thigh.
“Good Christ, Kara.” Lena feels as if she’s somehow both running behind as well as rushing ahead, stretched taut between warring desires. Release is a mere whisper away, but she wants so much more, had sort of hoped Kara might tease her, hold her suspended for a little longer, had hoped to strip Kara naked, strip her of that cocky smile and have her stretched naked beneath her, was ready for Kara to have Lena worship her body the way it’s been asking her to before finally allowing Lena her own release.
She whines, high and breathless. “I’m going to — I need—” She grinds aimlessly up at the firm body above her, feeling wired, strung taut, stunned.
“Here.” Kara moves her hands, freeing up one of them to stutter down to the buttons of Lena’s jeans. Lena swats her away, undoing them all at once with a sharp jerk of both of her hands, and then Kara is groaning as she pushes her fingers down between their bodies, past every single barrier that Lena has put between them.
Lena realizes she’s so wet that there almost isn’t any friction at all when Kara slips between her, breathing heavily, telling Lena how good she feels as she glides her fingers in a few bold, long strokes before she finds her. She circles her, two, three times, then drags the pads of her fingers over her, and Lena is coming, going over in spite of herself, helpless to hold off any longer, bucking and rolling and committing blasphemy on various divine beings, including Kara herself.
After a few moments, Kara extricates herself from Lena’s hold with no difficulty or protest, stretching her arms above her head and rolling her shoulders as if she’s just woken from an afternoon nap. Lena feels leaden and weightless. Newton’s Law of Gravity is clearly a lie.
Kara is watching her from where she’s straddled across her hips, smiling and flushed, looking a little rumpled but also entirely too pleased with herself. Lena watches her right back, watches as Kara winks at her, as she lifts her hand and sucks the tips of her fingers into her mouth.
Lena shudders at the sharp tug of what she believes to be an aftershock, then flushes all over when she realizes the release Kara just granted her has not put a break on her arousal whatsoever-at-all, and seriously, what in god’s name? But also, she thinks Kara may not mind it much, considering the hungry way she’s eyeing Lena before she lowers herself, the way she smiles when she’s hovering over her again.
“Knew you’d taste good,” she says against Lena’s lips, and then she proves it by kissing her deeply, languidly, her hands playing a tantalizing little tune on Lena’s breasts that make her hips want to twitch up at her again.
“I’m going to take these off, alright?” Kara asks, splaying the fingers of one hand over the roundness of her belly, the other paused at the waist of her jeans.
“God, please, here,” Lena says, lifting her hips, but Kara has her, lifting her hips again like she’s weightless, some flimsy, insignificant thing. It makes Lena feel weak and trembly, even more so than the wildly out of character climax she’s just experienced. Kara pushes her thumb past the waistband of her underwear and it’s almost rough, because it’s been functioning like a fucking corset all day and Lena just needs to breathe, so when Kara continues to pull them down it’s relief and pleasure and jesus-is-it-fucking-cold, all rolled into one, but combined with the touch of Kara's fingers and her tongue licking out at the crease of her thigh, it’s turned into that exquisite kind of discomfort that smolders, slick and salacious, between her legs.
There’s a beat, once Kara gets her pants off, once Lena is laid out naked before her. Kara is looking at her the same way she did when she was eyeing the Jerusalem artichoke chips. “I’m going to go down on you now,” she decides, the words landing soundly between Lena’s legs, adding to the pressure that’s building there again. Kara kisses her breasts, sucking, biting gently. “Is that okay?”
“Yes,” Lena says, “fuck,” she adds, for emphasis, hoping it’s enough, and just when Lena thinks Kara will put her mouth where it’s wanted, where it’s required, really, at this point, she moves away, making Lena sigh out a protest and reach for her. But Kara stands up, grabs the backs of Lena’s knees and yanks her down to the foot of the bed. Then she kneels down before her and, in a move Lena fears might be incompatible with life, dips down and puts her mouth on her.
It’s, Christ. The second coming, pun fully intended.
As Lena shudders and sobs, surrendering to pleasure, Kara hooks her arms under her thighs and holds on, pressing her hips into the mattress to keep her still. It’s liberating, Lena thinks, through the haze that must be her spirit departing her physical form, freeing, to be so taken, so caught by her. She wants Kara to hold her down and keep her there forever, touch her until Lena is no longer able to remember where else she would possibly want to go.
After, Kara shimmies up next to her, cradling Lena in her arms. Lena feels smaller than their height difference justifies, and tender to the point of liquefaction. It also occurs to her that Kara has yet to shed a single article of clothing. Lena isn’t tall enough to check, but she’s fairly certain she may actually still be wearing her shoes.
“You know,” Lena says, “I’m beginning to think you’ve been projecting, with the never-nude thing.”
Kara is trying to somehow be delicate about pressing what has to be one of Lena’s hairs out of her mouth with her tongue. It makes Lena want to kiss her again. She plucks at her sweater, instead. “Are you ready for this to come off?” she asks.
Kara helps Lena pull off her shirt, then steps out of her — yup, shoes — and her pants, and for a moment, regarding her, Lena doesn’t know whether to weep or fall to her knees. Kara, in moonlight, nude, is a piece of art, and seeing her like this is nothing less than a numinous experience.
Lena doesn’t understand why she’s not already running her tongue all over Kara’s body. As she climbs into her bed again, Lena tries to grab her shoulders, nudge her hips, ready to prostrate herself at the shrine of Kara Danvers, but Kara’s hands are quicker than hers, and they catch her around her wrists.
Kara’s eyes are the deep indigo of the sky at dusk when she smiles down at her, teeth glinting. “No touching until I tell you to,” she says. She lifts Lena’s arms above her head, grasping her wrists in one hand, skimming the fingertips of the other down her arm, down her body until they’re resting at the top of Lena’s thighs.
"I want to be inside you," she rasps into Lena's collarbone. “Can you go again?”
“God,” Lena says on a shaky exhale, “Remind me never to tell you what edging actually is.”
Then she gasps, feeling Kara’s hand slide down, trembles when she cups her in her warm palm, wails, low and wretched, when she feels Kara push inside, curling her fingers, deep and full, and she’s flying, and Kara is carrying her.
Lena closes her eyes against the onslaught of sensation and is grateful for the reprieve it allows her — from the near debilitating sight of Kara, naked above her, straining; from the stark reality of what it is they’re doing, and where they’re doing it; from Kara’s determination to coax every sound from her that Lena is capable of making as she twists and tightens around her capable fingers — and, she finds, it’s a little easier to let go, a little easier to submit when she’s not looking up at the elf on the shelf over Kara’s dresser.
Under Kara’s unwavering, exuberant attention Lena comes apart, completely and without restraint, and, she's sure, beyond all hope of repair. When Lena opens her eyes again, much later, still trying to steady the roaring thunder of her heart, Kara is gazing at her as if she’s the only thing left in the world.
She presses their foreheads together, nothing between them but their panting breaths.
Kara’s voice is gruff, her fingers greedy.