“What is your safeword?”
Lena is so caught up in her own thoughts that she doesn’t notice Kara leaning against the wall until she enters the bedroom. In her defense, the room is dark, lit only by the flame of a single, faltering candle. It’s still early enough in the evening that the last traces of the sun paint the sky outside blood red, and the few clouds hanging above the city are edged in gold, but, inside their bedroom, night already has descended.
The lone flame provides enough of a glow that the darkness remains bearable, and Lena has no doubt this was a well thought touch on Kara’s part.
Self-preservation is so ingrained in her that she would never admit to it, but Lena is grateful.
“I asked you a question.” Kara’s voice is soft, a caress sending shivers to trickle down her spine, but there’s a hard note underneath it. Her lover clearly expects to be obeyed, and swiftly too.
Lena fumbles with the box and almost drops it, her thoughts scattered like sheep at the sight of a prowling wolf. She has never felt such dominance coming from her lover, the power of it as visible as a heat wave bending the air in summer, and she is left a ruin in its wake.
Slick drips from her, soaks into the fabric of her underthings until she wishes she was going without, the flow so abundant that, before long, droplets snake down her inner thighs.
“I…” She has to stop and work some moisture into her mouth before she can continue, not an easy thing to do, considering that her body seems to have forgotten how to function, except for the burning need rushing down between her legs. “ Potstickers .” She whispers, voice cracked, after what feels like an eternity of silence.
They both chose safewords at the onset of their relationship, not because they’d already accounted for bondage and the like, but just in the off chance anything may go awry during lovemaking. Lena knows that the sex one sees in movies and the sex one actually has are entirely different things; worlds that may draw inspiration from one other, but where apparent similarities often just conceal a sea of differences.
She’s chosen potstickers because it’s Kara’s favorite food beside her, and also because who wouldn’t stop hot in their tracks when hearing something so anticlimactic during sex?
Where her safeword is light, a joke almost, Kara’s is something much more intimate and full of pain. A word that Lena hopes she’ll never have to hear.
“Very good.” Pushing away from the wall, Kara advances toward her, one hand outstretched. “Come here.”
Again, Lena spots something different in her demeanor, a harder layer to her character that she never noticed before. Gone is the soft, puppy-eyed girl with a smile as bright as sunlight, the woman replacing her unyielding to the point of being foreboding. If Lena had to put Kara into words this very minute, she’d say her love reminds her of velvet-shrouded steel, with the metal poorly disguised indeed.
Kara’s fingers brush against her own as she takes the box from her and places it on the bed. Sparks fly between them at the fleeting contact, every last hair on Lena’s body trying to stand on end. Her skin tingles, not unpleasantly so, and her teeth ache as if she’d just been struck and split like lighting.
As the word split flashes through the fire of her thoughts, heat flares below, and her sex clenches in anticipation. Lena feels weak, weaker than she has been in a long time, and while her first instinct is to gather the armor she normally wears closer around herself, something in the look Kara is throwing her prevents her from doing so.
“Good.” Kara repeats, as her darkened eyes roam Lena’s face, looking for something. Whatever it is, she seems to have found it, because she continues. “Good girl .”
The tiniest whimper tumbles from Lena’s lips, and no amount of jaw-flexing helps to hold it back. Her knees buck, her legs grow weak, and only Kara’s hand closing around her wrist holds her upright.
“Steady, my love.” Her voice is so, so soft, but the grin is that of a wolf who’s trapped the hare after a long chase. “I have you.”
She really, really does, and follows through with actions.
When Kara is sure that Lena has regained a bit of footing, she lets her wrist go, hands rising to cup both of her cheeks. Her steel-cast self fades for a moment, eyes returning to the sky blue of a deep summer day and full of tenderness.
“If anything I do upsets you, Lena, stop me, okay? And we’ll never have to go here again.”
Here is the uncharted territory of dominance and submission, Lena knows. Here is the place where Lena Luthor ceases to be, replaced by a nameless girl who is nothing but an instrument in Kara’s able hands. She meets her lover’s inquisitive gaze with one that surprises her for its own steadiness; she wants this, craves it. There is a promise here , in Kara’s arms and in the fingers that Lena hopes will soon be fucking her of the same abandonment she used to find in darkness. There is utter freedom in having safety into another, and her bones are so, so weary and so tired.
“I want this.” She says it loud and clear for both their benefits. Her tongue flicks out to trace her lips. “I want this, Mistress .” Another gush of wetness comes from her core, and the room sways around her for a moment.
Kara’s new persona falls over her faster than Lena can blink, as if her lover had reached inside herself and thrown a switch. Turning her back to her, Kara picks up the box, moving to the other side of the bed as she opens it and takes out the scarf held within.
The way she handles it is almost deferential, and Lena becomes keenly aware of how an object as simple as that can acquire a certain power when imbued with both their wills and their desires.
She becomes entranced as she watches Kara move, deliberate like a priestess sanctifying an altar, until her lover turns to her again, her eyebrow raised and a smirk quirking her lips.
“Well, girl? Did you not hear me?”
Lena’s shoulders jerk and she drops her gaze to hands that are tormenting the hem of her blouse, cheeks aflame with embarrassment.
“I’m sorry…” She trails off and bites her lower lip, tears prickling at her eyes. “I’m sorry, Mistress.”
A Luthor never, ever cries.
Her mind conjures a vivid image of her disapproving mother, almost managing to trick her into thinking that Lillian is actually there, actually staring at her useless, worthless, spineless daughter.
It is Kara that dispels the illusion, a finger pressing underneath her chin until Lena gets the message and raises her head.
“It is alright.” Her Mistress soothes, forgiving. “Now be a good girl for me and let me watch as you undress, yes?” Kara’s grin is full of hunger. “I would very much like to admire you, Lena.”
She swallows, a harder thing to do than usual, considering the lump that fills her throat. Under Kara’s expectant eyes, Lena’s fingers move, going to the row of mother-of-pearl buttons holding her blouse shut. The first one she pops open with some difficulty, her hands trembling as she is caught, like a deer in headlights, between mounting arousal and the fear of disappointing Kara.
Lena aches to be good , specifically for the woman who is trying to devour her with her eyes, and, while she’s never failed at anything she put her mind to in her life, she is illogically terrified of seeing the hunger glazing Kara’s eyes turn to disgust.
Her hands move lower, each button she encounters a little easier to undo, and as she shrugs out of her blouse, Lena starts to feel lighter. It is as if each article of clothing was weighing her down, heavier than a suit of armor, and, as the pile of clothes at her feet grows, her persona fades, leaving her bare and nameless.
She has been naked in front of Kara in other instances of course, but the process is different this time. She keep on moving until she’s wearing nothing but her skin, and Lena Luthor ends strewn across the polished floor.
Discarded for a time, she is of no importance now.
“So beautiful.” Unabashed, Kara’s eyes roam her from head to toe, her lover’s smile a pleased flash of teeth in the semi darkness. Lena’s arms twitch, and she raises them halfway to her chest, animated by a bout of modesty, more to try and conceal the flush spreading across her collarbone than her breasts.
“No.” Kara chides, taking her wrists in a grip firm enough to still her movement. “You blush so prettily my love. I’d rather see.”
Lena worries her lower lip, breath spiking at the contact. Kara’s skin is cool against her own, which feels almost fevered despite the air conditioner gently whirring in the background. If she blushes more, she may catch fire, but what a beautiful demise that it would be; burning hot and bright under her Mistress’ touch until nothing other than all-consuming pleasure is left.
“Just like that.” Kara licks her lips, mouth slightly agape, and Lena thinks she will lean in to kiss her, or perhaps mark her neck with the impression of her teeth.
But Mistress has other plans.
Kara tugs her forward, but steps back at the same time so that the space between them remains the same. It frustrates Lena in a way, to see the one she yearns for with every fiber of her being so close and yet just as easily out of reach.
She has to fight against her stubborn streak, the urge to simply step into her lover’s space almost overwhelming. And yet, she is aware that a transgression now - even one that the logical part of her tells her is a minor one - would result in her lover dangling what she craves in front of her far longer before she is allowed to reach it.
Right next to the bed, Kara lets her go, stepping around her to run her gaze from the nape of Lena’s neck down to the pleasing curve of her ass.
“You are such a pretty thing.” Kara circles her, her movements matching the huntress’ grin stretching her lips. “So beautiful and so wet already.”
She stops, without touching, right at Lena’s back, maddeningly close. Mistress’ breath skates along the nape of her neck, hot, but still causing her to shiver.
“I can smell you, you know.” Kara whispers the words against her earlobe, as if letting her in on a big secret, and Lena whines, helpless and burning with desire, hands flexing into fists at her sides.
Kara comes around again, her smirk softened into a gentler smile full of adoration. It overwhelms Lena, the way her lover always looks at her; it’s devotion, and a love so strong, so deep that she can’t see its bottom. Lena thinks it’s not a thing that can properly be measured, and, for a scientist like her, that is a truth hard to accept and reconcile with. Nobody ever looked at her this way before Kara; Father loved her in his own distracted way, but it had always been the love of a businessman so caught up in his meetings and work trips that the affection he gave to her came rationed, bracketed inside the little spare time that he had.
No amount of gifts, or curiosities brought back from his travels could make up for actual love. They filled the shelves of Lena’s room growing up, but not her heart.
And Lillian… To Mother Lena has always been a nuisance, someone best kept out of sight. Perhaps it’s due to the fact that they are related by the laws of marriage and not by blood, although Lena suspects that it’s a matter of being forged from different things. Her mother is made of harder stuff than she, a metal too unyielding to be capable of warmth.
But Kara… Kara is her resting place when she needs one, and when Lena allows it she starts fires that consume, right beneath the surface of her skin. In her Lena can be deconstructed and reassembled, made into a thing of animal need that Kara’s hands play like an instrument of music, until, in singing her lover’s name, she screams herself raw.
And now, Kara decides to do just that, one of her hands falling to Lena’s rear and stroking lightly.
“A penny for your thoughts, pretty girl.” Mistress teases, but in a playful way rather than mocking.
“I…” Lena ducks her head, unsure how to translate her thoughts into words. Her mind comes up empty, but again Kara seems to guess what’s going on behind her eyes.
“You have not been treated as you should have.” There is definitely anger heating up her voice, but Lena knows she is not the target. “I would see that rectified, girl.” Kara takes Lena’s hand again and helps her up the bed, positioning her how she wants her to be.
Which is knelt, with her hands splayed over her thighs.
“I love you so.” Kara murmurs, stroking her cheek. Lena had thought she’d join her, but Mistress simply stands and stares, and all that she can do is nuzzle into her palm. “I cannot look at you any other way than this, Lena.”
Full of love, and hunger, and adoration Kara means. She doesn’t need to say.
They stay like that a while, then Kara drops her hand caressing down Lena’s front, to her tightening belly.
“Now, dearest, I’d like for you to touch yourself and make a mess on the bed while I watch.”
Heat flashes down Lena’s spine, and she gives a shaky nod, hand going down between her legs to carry out her Mistress’ order.
She hasn’t even started and she’s already burning as bright as a falling star.