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some strange music draws me in (makes me come on like some heroine)

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The buzz takes a long time to wear off.

She tried to describe it to Alex once, the way expending so much energy leaves her edges tingling, like the screen of the old television Alex had in her bedroom in Midvale. Alex asked if it was like pins and needles, and then she had to explain what pins and needles were, and it doesn’t sound like anything Kara’s ever experienced, so probably not. Alex couldn’t really explain it anyway, not any better than Kara could explain the way her skin can feel the shift of the air like a firework.

The way the touch of a hand feels like fire.

They get home, and Kara wants to—

"Darling," Lena says, setting her purse on the kitchen island. "Leave your suit in the laundry and I'll put it in with my darks."

She heads down the hallway, barely able to process the curve in the wall with its photos— she and Alex and Eliza at Kara's graduation; Lena and Lex at hers; newly hung, an entire series from the vacation they'd taken under duress, Alex and Jess conspiring to give them some time away— as she drifts towards the sunlight pouring into the hall from the open door of their bedroom. Just enough awareness to strip her suit off and fling it into the laundry as she passes, before she reaches the bedroom bathed in sunlight that she can feel everywhere.

The space isn't much more than an expanse of carpet and bed, a wall of glass looking out over the city in every direction, the ocean just beyond with the sun beginning to set the water alight. Eventually the sun will disappear, the water returned to its equilibrium of blues and greens, but for this liminal period the water is molten red.

There are clothes she means to put on. A pair of sweats that Lena paid too much money for, so soft that even when she feels like this they feel like a cloud. A shirt so tight it feels like it's holding her together. And her socks with tiny mermaids on them that remind her where her feet end and the ground begins.

But the sun feels amazing, and it's easier to just sit at the end of their bed and let it soak into her skin.

It's not a good feeling or a bad feeling, this state of being, not inherently. But it is a lot of feeling, in a way that can overwhelm her if she doesn't control it, if she's not in a space where she's safe not to control it.

She feels a little drunk on the play of sun against her body by the time the bed dips, Lena crawling across the mattress to settle behind her. Lena's hand on her back makes her moan.

"Shhh," Lena soothes.

But her thumb strokes against Kara's skin in a way that undoes her spoken intention, every ridge of whorl and loop its own skitter of sensation, and Kara presses into it, biting at her lip until there is pain. It doesn't help, nothing does, and her eyes flutter closed as she lets herself vocalize the pleasure at just that small touch.

"You were amazing today." Lena's voice is low, barely a whisper, but it fills Kara's head and she finds her neck bowing, arching to get closer to where Lena's lying with her head propped up against her palm. "All those people are safe because of you."

If it were anyone else, Kara would be burning with embarrassment at the praise. She doesn't do what she does for this, to be told she is doing good. She knows she is, as much as she knows she needs to breathe to live, and that alone is all she needs.

But, oh, that doesn't mean she doesn't want the words.

To hear that Lena is proud of her. To know that she thinks Kara is good and worthy of the symbol she upholds. To be filled with the strength of Lena's faith in her.

(Lena is—

With Kara, she is effusive.

What Kara didn't realize for so, so long is that with everyone else she decidedly is not. Words are a tool for her, sometimes a shield, sometimes a sword, but always wielded with purpose.

"You're— so cute," Kara said, Lena curled against her chest. "You say the nicest things to me, and I— I'm—"

"Only to you," Lena breathed against the skin of Kara's neck. "It bubbles up, sometimes, like I can't hold it in. When we first met I—" And here, Kara could feel the heat bursting against Lena's cheeks, "— after you would leave, I'd be so embarrassed."

She found a use for her words, eventually. Neither shield nor sword, but—)

"I was so proud of you today."

And Kara shudders, caught between the thrill of the words and the oblectation of the sunlight on her skin and the weight of Lena's hand soft against her spine.

When it subsides, the reverberations settling back into the constant thrum that won't release her just yet, Lena has shifted, is kneeling behind her, and only when Kara breathes out in contentment does she press her other hand against the cap of Kara's shoulder.

She hums in pleasure, sinks back against the mattress, into Lena's hands, and knows Lena will keep her from falling. Lena's hair sweeps across Kara's back, the air disturbed as she leans forward, her breath bathing Kara's ear in warmth and her scent drowning Kara's senses. "I think you deserve a reward."

"Do I?" Kara asks, more air than sound. She feels slow and sleepy now; in this space that they have made their home she lets herself relax, doesn't clamp down on every sense until she chokes her reactions.

"If you go and put it on," Lena says, the words shivering across her ear, "I'll ride you."

She doesn't feel slow now, definitely isn't sleepy.

 

 

(They had discovered this by accident; Kara so keyed up one day, and Lena wanting desperately to help.

Kara had never— she didn't— it's not a sex thing.

It's not a good or bad thing. It's feeling; it can be either. It just depends.

In her first months on Earth, her powers had been unpredictable. They would come and go, fluctuate in strength and their capacity for being controlled. Sometimes there was nothing she could do but fly and fly and fly until her ability to defy gravity would leave her, send her sailing into the ocean where Alex would paddle out on her surfboard and drag her back to shore.

And the water would feel amazing, most of the time. The swirl of the bubbly water against her skin was like nothing she had ever felt on Earth or on Krypton, every grain of salt and sand a distinct point of sensation, and she would revel in these tiny sensations against her hyper-sensitive palate. Alex would be cold and shivering by the time she could coax Kara back to land, happy and exhausted from so much feeling.

Sometimes, though, it was too much. It would be so cold and she would be so overwhelmed, weak and clinging to Alex's warmth until they reached the sand. The smooth fiberglass of Alex's board beneath her was a quiet balm to her body, and she'd run her fingers along the rubber of the leg rope, over and over until it was the only sensation she could feel.

It got better as her powers did. They found things that worked, that would ease her back into letting her body feel again. Eliza rubbing her hairline; Alex's fleece sweats with the hood she could pull all the way closed. Sometimes she'd eat every ice pop in the freezer, but only the blue ones really worked.

And it only happened when she used her powers, a lot but not to exhaustion, and she didn't use her powers. Not a lot.

Not until Supergirl.

So it's not a sex thing, but she'd never thought, or even really had the opportunity to make it a sex thing. Not until Lena.

Although she still really likes the ice pop thing.)

 

 

(The first time Lena had kissed her in this state, hands touching where they'd been free to touch with propriety for months, Kara had come so hard she'd bent the bars of the medical bed she'd been perched on.

Kara had been mortified.

Lena had been given ideas.)

 

 

"Ready?" Lena asks.

She is.

The straps of the harness are a stiff, flexible rubber, smooth and unyielding and utterly uninteresting to her buzzing skin, and her fingers are slick with how wet Lena is. Her toes flex against the mattress where she's perched in a kneel, a mirror to Lena's pose in front of her, skin bare and sweaty with the exception of the slash of black lace around her pale breasts, rough and begging for Kara to run her fingers across it.

She drags her fingers against Lena's clit one last time, the only point of contact between them, and lets the puff of air from the resulting moan swirl in eddies against her neck and chest.

"Oh, god, you better be." Lena doesn't touch her as Kara shifts to lay herself out against the sheets, keeps her distance until Kara is fully settled. "I shouldn't have let you use the icy breath."

That was fun. Which is the point: this much feeling can be fun. Sometimes all Lena has to do is breathe against her for a while, against her breasts or between her legs, dragging the orgasm out of her without a hope of resisting. Not that she'd want to, and making Lena breathe is all part of the fun.

"You loved it," Kara says knowingly, and takes Lena's hand, tangles their fingers together and guides Lena over her thighs. Lena's knees barely brush against Kara's hips, between the bands of the harness and only for a second, but it sends a shudder through her.

Kara takes a breath, feels the nitrogen and oxygen sink into her lungs, feels the carbon dioxide roll out. She does it again, and then once more.

"Are you sure you're ready? You're not going to come before—"

"Please," Kara groans. "I've been ready since yesterday."

Lena laughs, puffs of air through her nose and a crinkle around her eyes, but she sits up taller, and shuffles back.

She drags a fingertip up the length of the dildo, and Kara comes, painful in its surprise.

But that should have been expected, and as her hearing returns the first sound to filter through after her own heartbeat is Lena's laughter, and when she scrunches up her face in annoyance the laughter only grows.

"That was mean," Kara says, a little breathless and mostly unsatisfied from the unexpected orgasm.

"Mean would be me getting wet enough and then you coming for real two seconds into it. That was just a little something to take the edge off."

And it has, but only just, and Kara reaches out to palm at Lena's neck, to feel the pulse of blood and the rush of breath beneath Lena's skin.

Lena shuffles forward, and Kara holds her breath.

(Sometimes, it doesn't work.

Sometimes she's not that far gone and the warm up eases her back into her sense.

Sometimes, it's too much, too everything, and she goes from drifting on the current of pleasure to drowning in it. There's always the risk that the next more will throw her under.

Lena's always enjoyed the risk of a calculated gamble. Kara's learning to appreciate the thrill of it.)

"Ohhh, f—"

She can't finish the thought, wasn't even aiming for a specific word, but the slide of Lena, hot and open as she sinks down around the dildo, feels like everything, and she bites her lip in a useless attempt to hold herself together. Lena's so wet it must feel like nothing but the slow slide of being filled to her, but Kara is so sensitive like this that every shift of flesh against silicone, every minute vibration it causes through the length of the shaft goes right to Kara's clit, sitting beneath its base.

She can feel it so strongly she can hear it, can smell it, can practically taste it on her tongue.

Lena rolls her hips forward, the dildo shifting with her, and Kara tries to breathe through the way she can feel it in her eyelids and her toes and every inch of nerve between like sunlight in her veins, but she can't, she can't—

Lena lifts, and the shaft pulls up, and Kara's lungs drag in air, the release like surfacing for just a moment. But it doesn't come back, and Kara realizes her eyes are closed so she opens them to Lena hovering over her.

"How we doing?"

Every move is a risk, but Lena likes to know the odds.

"So, so good," Kara says, forcing the air from her lungs so she can drag in more, and then it rushes out again on a moan as Lena sinks back down for real this time, starts a rhythm Kara isn't ready for but is helpless against falling into.

She's gorgeous like this.

No, she's gorgeous always, and Kara's thought so always, from the very first day. But like this, tall and proud and refusing to blush or hide from Kara's own focus, naked rolling hips and curved spine and her breasts—

Kara can't resist it any longer, and the lace of the bra is like sparks against her fingertips as she runs them around the tight flesh beneath, and the shudder it sends through Lena that grows as she circles closer and close goes all the way through her, sends her hips stuttering and Kara spreads her fingers wide, palms at Lena's breast just the way Lena likes it, feels the clench it causes against her clit, again and again as Lena keeps moving, trying to outrun her own release.

It's almost too much, as Lena comes with a sound that makes Kara's ears buzz, a breath that washes over her chest as Lena curls forward, a thousand different points of sensation threatening send her under, trying to set her on fire. Almost, but—

There's a moment, where everything, all at once, is white and silent and nothing.

And with a rush, it all comes back, and it all comes back good.

When she can hear and see and feel again, she realizes the sound is her own sobbing moan, the rasp against her skin is the sheets beneath her writhing hips, and oh it's so good, but she needs more.

"Lena," she gasps, flails a hand in her direction.

Lena takes it, says "I'm here," against the shell of Kara's ear, and it's good but it could be better, and Kara grabs, as gently as she can manage, her hand at Lena's hips where she's still straddling Kara's, and pulls her down, pulls her closer, until they're flesh against flesh from Lena's lips against her neck to Kara's toes curled against the heel of Lena's foot.

The silence is delicious, and she breaks it with a sigh of utter contentment, and Lena snickers in response.

"Hello again," she says, pressing a finger against Kara's ribs.

Kara rolls them over, presses Lena into the mattress and buries her face against Lena's neck and breathes her in. "Hi," she says eventually, kisses the closest skin she finds. "Thanks."

"Silly," Lena says, dragging her fingers through Kara's hair, and that feels good, same as the smell of Lena's skin, normal, familiar, and Kara lets herself drown.