Supergirl doesn’t waste any time.
In an instant, she’s within the brunette’s personal space, fingers playing with the hem of her pencil skirt.
“Are you sure?” she asks, look somewhere between Kara’s puppy dog eyes and Supergirl’s steel-like resolve.
Lena bites her lower lip. Nods.
Yes—yes, she is sure. Surer than she’s ever been of anything else in her life. She wants the other woman, wants her so much that it has the potential to unravel her completely.
She can see Supergirl’s throat bob as she swallows, then nods as well.
One of her hands finally slips underneath the fabric of Lena’s skirt. It rests there for only a moment before traveling up, bunching up the dark material as it goes further and further north until she feels a thumb just barely brushing against her outer labia through the thin lace of her string.
It sends a shockwave through her but she needs more, needs Supergirl to stop teasing and get the fuck on with it. She lets out an impatient whine, pressing herself into the direction of the other woman’s hand until she finally springs into action and quickly pushes Lena’s skirt up to her waist.
She doesn’t even bother taking Lena’s underwear off; just pulls it to the side before slipping two fingers into her in one smooth motion.
They both moan at the same time.
“You’re so wet,” she marvels as her fingers twist inside the brunette.
And what else can Lena do but whimper helplessly, head falling back against the wall. A moment later, there’s a hot mouth on her throat, nibbling along the expanse of her pale, smooth neck.
“You’re so beautiful, Lena.”
She feels the words against her skin rather than hearing them because all she can hear is the blood rushing in her ears. It sounds like she’s in the middle of the ocean, like she’s drowning in the waves. And she is, in a way. She’s drowning in waves of Supergirl, in the sensations of feeling the other woman add another finger.
The stretch is almost painful, burning in the most delicious way, and her breath hitches when Supergirl curls the fingers against her g-spot without warning.
She does it again. And again and again and again until Lena shudders and clenches around her fingers with a silent cry.
It’s almost embarrassing how quickly she comes. Or it would be, if this was anyone else. But it’s Supergirl—it’s Kara—who just presses a soft kiss to Lena’s collarbone as she slips her fingers free.
They stand there in silence, waiting for the others next move, until—
“I wish I had a nice big strap to fuck you with.”
The words go through Lena like a bolt of lightning, a moan escaping her mouth almost involuntarily.
She can’t think, can’t form a single coherent sentence with how much she wants that to happen with every fiber of her being—at how much the thought alone turns her on.
Getting strapped by Supergirl. She wants to. She needs to.
A ragged breath escapes her throat and she squeezes her eyes shut.
“In—in my dresser,” she says after a moment. “At home. Second drawer from the—”
Supergirl is out the window before she can even finish her sentence.
The temporary solitude gives her brain—still a bit hazy after that first orgasm—a chance to catch up with... well, everything. She just got finger-fucked against a wall by Supergirl. By Kara. By Supergirl and Kara—because they are one and the same person.
They’ll have to talk about that at some point. Because Kara lied to her (even if only by omission). Kara lied straight to her face for months on end and now they are fucking in Lena’s office and she knows she should be hurt, should be furious because Kara—like everyone else in her life before—betrayed her.
But before she can dwell on that fact any further there’s a thud from the balcony and, a moment later, Supergirl steps back into the room, strap in hand.
“Got it,” she smiles.
And, truly, Lena can’t even be mad at her. Not when she is looking at her like that.
She puts the harness on over her suit and there’s something about seeing Supergirl with a seven-and-a-half inch plastic dick jutting out from her middle that activates a baser instinct somewhere in here brain, a need to get put in her place, to be held down and fucked until she begs for mercy.
“I seem to remember something about you wanting Supergirl to bend you over your desk,” the other woman says then, one eyebrow raised, and Lena almost comes on the spot at how low her voice sounds.
A lazy smirk spreads across the blonde’s face at how uneven her voice is.
For a moment they just look at each other, unmoving, before Kara extends an arm to Lena, motioning for her to give her her hand. Lena does without a second of hesitation.
She holds it gently—like it is something precious—running her thumb along pale knuckles. Then she tugs firmly, just once, and Lena’s back collides with the solid muscle of Supergirl’s body before roughly pushing her against the desk, effectively trapping her between herself and the piece of furniture.
The edge of the glass is digging into the fronts of Lena’s thighs while the strap on presses against her ass and she shudders in anticipation.
Supergirl has picked her favorite strap on, the one that fills her up so well, and the prospect of the other woman using it on her makes her stomach drop in the best possible way.
With strong, steady hands Supergirl pushes her down by her shoulders and Lena lets her with no resistance. It’s ironic, really, how much control she is ready to relinquish to the other woman when, usually, she is the one who needs to pull the strings at all times in order to feel seen, to feel safe.
Somehow, though, there is safety in the strong hand firmly splayed across her back, keeping her in place. Because it is Supergirl’s hand. Kara’s. She’s safe with them.
God, this is really happening.
Supergirl’s other hand settles on her hip, fingers digging into the soft flesh there with such strength that Lena is sure they’ll leave bruises. She doesn’t mind.
In fact, she wants the blonde to be rough. To hurt her, just a little bit. To fuck all her broken pieces back together and bring her to the point where she can finally forget all the things that are haunting her, everything she is supposed to be and all the ways in which she is falling short.
The strap slips into her then, hard and fast, and she whimpers in response, the stretch of the silicone just on the right side of painful.
“Alright?” the blonde asks, thumb gently running back and forth on her hip. It’s a nice contrast to the dildo currently filling her to the brim. The concern in her voice is all Kara and Lena’s heart warms.
She hums in response because she’s more than alright.
Kara doesn’t need a second invitation.
Immediately, she draws back a little only to slam the toy right back in, making Lena arch against the hand still holding her down. The blonde’s pace is fast, rough. Lena has never been fucked quite so well. Just like with everything else in her life, Kara is diligent to a fault, driving into Lena with as much force as she can without actually hurting her.
The rhythmic thud thud thud that echoes around the room with every instance of Supergirl bottoming out inside her before pulling back and driving in again with seemingly never-ending zeal is a reminder of just how not-human she really is, which might explain why the way Lena is being railed right now is literally out of this world.
After a while, Supergirl’s hand slowly travels from her back—maybe she thinks she has sufficiently subdued her—down across her spine and around to her front; to her clit.
When her fingers first make contact, Lena jerks back slightly, strap burying deeper into her with at the sudden shift of position. She groans.
She can feel that she is close, the unmistakable tingle in her body slowly starting to spread through her like liquid gold.
“Yes, Supergirl,” she moans, pushing her ass back into the other woman to encourage her to go deeper—harder—as she buries her face in the crook of her neck. “Kara.”
The blonde’s metronome-like thrusts falter at hearing Lena moan her name—both of her names—before Lena can feel the dildo slipping from her cunt. She whines.
She doesn’t appreciate being teased, especially not when she’s beyond horny and on the verge of orgasm. But before she can actually complain, Kara gently runs a finger down her back and says, “Turn around. I want to see your pretty face when you come.”
And God, how could Lena say no to that?
So she braces both hands on the table and pushes herself up to her feet, legs trembling. One of Kara’s arms wraps around her middle almost immediately, holding her upright. She’s grateful for the support because standing on her own seems like an almost impossible task right now.
Her arms are firm and strong and Lena lets herself collapse into them. The moment stands in stark contrast to the hard fucking she has been receiving until a few seconds ago—calm, gentle, soft. It gets even softer when Kara noses the back of her neck, placing a quick kiss there before turning her around.
It’s back to business after that.
Their bodies are pressed together knees to chest now and Lena wishes they were both fully naked so she could feel Kara’s hot skin on her own. What she can feel right now, though, is the strap on pressing against her hip and maybe that’s enough.
Supergirl’s hands come to rest on her bare ass, squeezing almost possessively and bringing them even close together before she slips one strong thigh between Lena’s own. The brunette starts grinding against it almost instinctively for friction.
The blonde is still palming her ass, has started kneading the soft flesh, when one thumb catches in the crack between her cheeks. Lena can feel her pussy gush at the mere thought of asking Supergirl to fuck her ass.
She doesn’t have time to dwell on it, though, because she lifts her up and sits her down on the edge of the table.
“Lean back, baby.”
Lena complies immediately.
The glass is cool against her back, a nice contrast to her skin that feels like it’s on fire.
For a moment, she just lies there and tries to catch her breath. She knows Supergirl is going to bring her back to the edge almost immediately, will fuck her so well that she’ll forget her own name.
She looks up then and directly at Kara, who, in turn, is looking down at her with so much raw lust and affection in her gaze that Lena can feel her eyes well with emotion.
Without breaking eye contact, she sets one palm down flat on the table next to the brunette’s head, the other one gripping the side of her neck. Kara’s fingertips dig into her vertebrae from the back, thumb hooking underneath her jaw. She’s not quite choking her but the feeling of being at the other woman’s mercy takes her breath away anyway.
The blonde starts pumping into her again then, picking up right where she left of, strong and relentless. The fact that she’s on her back now means the dildo hits differently, its slight curve hitting exactly where it is meant to.
God, how is she so good at this? How many other women has she fucked like this? As Supergirl. (As Kara.) She can’t be the only one.
This time, it’s Kara who comes first, burying herself to the hilt as her palm presses against the cold glass of the table next to Lena’s head.
Suddenly, there’s a crack and before Lena can even fully register the sound, the desk beneath her gives way, shattering into a million little pieces.
She braces for the impact, for the feeling of bits of broken glass boring into her skin. It never comes. Instead, she feels arms around her torso, catching her mid-air and holding her there for a moment before gently setting her on her feet.
Kara’s face is beet-red with shame when their eyes meet.
“Oh my God, Lena! I’m so sorry! I—” She looks down. “I’m gonna buy you a new desk, I promise.”
Lena lets out a burst of laughter before pressing her lips to the other woman’s cheek.
“Maybe one that’s a little sturdier.”
A beat, then:
“For next time.”