Before Lana could even begin to claw her way out of her dazed, breathless state, Clark decided to strike the iron while it was blistering hot.
Or, in this particular case, dangerously sexy.
Before the redhead's mind could even string together a coherent thought, the mattress dipped under a sudden, heavy weight.
In the blink of an eye, Clark moved on top of her.
The shift was seamless, a blur of motion that spoke of speed and grace she couldn't possibly track.
He placed both of his large, calloused hands flat against the mattress on either side of her head, effectively caging her in place.
His long legs swung over her hips, his lower body settling firmly astride hers.
Lana was entirely trapped, pinned beneath him and entirely at his mercy.
She could literally feel the raw, ambient heat radiating off his skin, rolling over her in heavy waves like an open furnace.
The sheer proximity was staggering.
Lana flushed so violently that the heat pooled in her cheeks, spreading down her neck and chest; she was entirely certain she could have been mistaken for a humanoid tomato.
And the undeniable fact that this infuriating, beautiful idiot was entirely shirtless—his broad, sculpted chest hovering mere inches from her face as he poured his heavy, darkened gaze onto her with a wicked smirk—made things a thousand times worse.
Oh. My. Fucking. God.
Lana's internal voice was screaming, a frantic, echoing panic, while her exterior was reduced to a trembling, flushed husk.
Clark tilted his head just a fraction.
He looked so incredibly boyish and innocent, yet the dangerous glint in his piercing eyes was entirely devilish.
It was a contradiction that made her heart pound wildly against her ribs.
In short, he looked incredibly, undeniably unfair.
"C-Clark, w-w-what the, mmgh—"
Before she could even muster the willpower to finish her fractured sentence, Clark sealed the deal.
He brought his face down with predatory swiftness and captured Lana's lips, swallowing her words completely. Her eyes widened in sheer shock, staring up at the ceiling for a fraction of a second before the overwhelming sensation forced them shut.
"Mmh, ugm..."
Her breath hitched painfully in her throat.
Instinct took over where rational thought failed.
She immediately lifted her arms, wrapping her trembling hands tightly around the thick, corded muscles of Clark's neck, pulling him down even closer. Their bodies pressed flush against one another, chest to chest, the solid wall of his musculature meeting the soft curves of her form.
Clark was absolutely ravaging her mouth.
He wasn't gentle.
He pulled at her lower lip with his teeth, leaving soft, teasing bites that sent electric shocks of pure arousal shooting straight to her core.
He mapped the seam of her lips, demanding entrance, setting a blistering pace that left her head spinning.
After a full minute of dizzying, breathless exploration, Clark tangled his fingers into the thick, fiery strands of Lana's hair, gently but firmly tugging her head back to break the kiss.
"Ahh..." A soft, involuntary whimper escaped Lana's swollen lips as she was separated from him.
The sheer dominance of the motion left her reeling.
"Look at me," Clark growled, his voice a low, gravelly vibration that resonated deep within his chest and reverberated straight through hers.
Lana, her chest heaving as she desperately tried to drag oxygen back into her burning lungs, forced her heavy eyelids open to meet his gaze.
The way Clark was staring down at her—his eyes darkened with unvarnished lust, the sheer dominance radiating from every pore of his being—turned the redhead on even more.
A deep, heavy pooling heat settled low in her belly.
She never knew she possessed such a deeply submissive side, a primal urge to simply surrender to the overwhelming force above her.
Seeing the dazed, glassy look in Lana's eyes, Clark leaned down and claimed her lips once more in a bruising kiss.
But he didn't stay there.
He trailed his lips along her jawline, his mouth hot and damp, before moving to the soft apple of her cheek.
He dragged his mouth down the sensitive column of her neck, sucking and licking at the delicate skin, swirling his tongue over her pulse point. His strong arms banded around her waist, effortlessly lifting her and pulling her closer, molding her flush against his towering frame.
"Ahh, hungg, hiik—"
Lana was a mess of breathless moans and fractured sighs, completely unraveled by Clark's expert machinations.
Panicking that someone in the house might hear the compromising sounds tearing from her throat, she quickly clamped one of her hands over her own mouth, desperately trying to muffle the loud, echoing moans of pleasure.
After thoroughly having his fill of her neck, leaving a blooming red mark against her pale skin, Clark once more denied her the friction she craved, suddenly pulling his upper body away.
Before Lana could protest the loss of contact, his hands moved down to her thighs.
With his absurd, terrifying strength, he easily pulled her lower half upward.
He nudged her knees apart, making way for himself to settle deeply into the cradle of her thighs.
Through the thin, fragile cotton of her sleepwear, her aching feminine core pressed flush against the heavy, rigid length of his arousal.
The contact was electric.
"Huummm, ummmg..."
Lana groaned loudly against her palm, and a low, answering rumble vibrated from Clark's chest as he rolled his hips forward, deliberately grinding his thick, rock-hard manhood against her sensitive, weeping womanhood.
The sheer warmth and impossible heat radiating from him through their clothes was entirely scrambling her mind, melting her thoughts into a puddle of pure, unadulterated need.
"C-Clark... ugh, please, mm—" Lana was rapidly losing her mind.
She ripped her hand away from her mouth, pleading with him, begging him to do whatever he could to make her feel good, to stop teasing and put her out of this agonizing misery.
But Clark wasn't in a merciful mood today.
He silenced her pleas by crashing his lips onto hers with raw, feral hunger.
This time, there was no gentle coaxing.
With sheer, unabashed boldness, he plunged his tongue deep inside her mouth, a wet, slick muscle moving with a single-minded desire for absolute conquest.
Lana finally found a spark of defiance and gave in to the challenge, fighting back eagerly.
She pushed her tongue against his, meeting his dominant strokes with desperate passion.
The sensual war of tongues waged fiercely for a few breathless seconds until Lana, entirely overwhelmed by the sheer force and stamina of the man above her, yielded.
Clark explored every single corner of her inner mouth, sweeping over her teeth, tasting the sweet ridge of her palate, leaving absolutely nothing unexplored.
They pulled at each other's lower lips with their teeth, swapping breathless groans and tasting their shared saliva in a messy, desperate exchange.
Needing to touch him, Lana tried to slide her hands down his back, wanting to map the broad, sweeping muscles of his shoulders and spine.
But Clark was instantly anticipating her move.
He snatched both of her wrists in one of his massive hands, effortlessly pinning them flat against the mattress above her head.
He was moving with absolute care, of course; he was hyper-aware that just one careless mistake, one fleeting lapse in his control, and she would break beneath him like a fragile toothpick.
But the restraint only made the grip feel firmer, completely inescapable.
Moans, groans, and the wet sounds of their feral kiss echoed in the quiet room as the intense exchange raged on.
Finally, when their burning lungs demanded air, they separated.
A thin, glistening bridge of saliva connected their swollen lips for a fleeting second before snapping.
Lana was a wreck.
She lay pinned beneath him, her chest heaving violently, her flushed skin slick with a fine sheen of sweat, desperately trying to catch her erratic breath.
And Clark?
The infuriating bastard's breathing was completely steady. His chest rose and fell in a calm, rhythmic cadence, completely untaxed by the exertion thanks to his god-like physiology.
Slowly releasing his iron grip on Lana's wrists, he leaned forward, pressing a few soft, lingering kisses to her collarbone and the curve of her shoulder, letting his lips brush the sensitive skin before he shifted his weight.
He leaned down, his mouth hovering mere millimeters from the shell of her ear.
"Lana," he whispered, his voice a dark, velvety caress that sent a shiver straight down her spine. "How much do you actually know about sex education?"
Hearing that highly specific, bizarrely academic question in the middle of such a heavy, lust-filled moment took Lana completely aback.
She blinked, her hazy mind struggling to switch gears.
Clark let out a low, dark chuckle that vibrated against her cheek.
He didn't wait for her to formulate an answer.
Keeping his lips pressed intimately against her ear, he began to speak.
He spoke in a slow, deliberate murmur, first explaining the biological changes human teenagers go through when they hit adolescence.
He detailed the sudden spike in hormones, the unexplainable desires, the primal surge of lust, the deeply ingrained biological imperative of mating.
He broke it down methodically, yet the tone of his voice made it sound incredibly erotic.
Then, his voice dropped an octave deeper as he whispered to her about his own unique condition.
"I'm a Kryptonian, Lana," he murmured, his breath hot and damp against her skin. "I am a being with essentially unbound potential. Every single physical attribute, every sense, every biological function I possess is dialed up to a million compared to a human."
He paused, letting the heavy weight of his words sink in.
He pressed his hips down into hers once more, a stark reminder of his physical state.
"So... I want you to just try and imagine what the fuck I have to go through when I start having those urges. Those suffocating sexual desires. The blind, blinding lust. The primal, overwhelming instinct of a mating ritual."
He trailed his nose along her jaw, inhaling deeply. "And then... there you were. Right in front of me. So completely ripe, so fucking beautiful, just waiting for me."
Lana's breath hitched again as his hand slid down from her shoulder, trailing agonizingly slowly down her side to rest heavily on her hip.
"I could smell your arousal from a mile away," Clark confessed, his voice turning incredibly guttural, completely shedding the farm-boy innocence she thought she knew. "I could smell the pheromones practically pouring off you. I could smell exactly how incredibly wet your cunt was getting for my cock, Lana."
As Clark began to explicitly convey the dark, untamed depths of his lust for her, weaving in filthy, naughty words that she never in a million years thought she would hear fall from Clark Kent's perfect mouth, Lana felt her mind entirely short-circuit.
Of course she desired Clark.
She had dreamed of being with him.
But she had never, not in her wildest fantasies, imagined that her sweet, mild-mannered boyfriend harbored such a ferocious, dirty desire for her.
He wanted her with a ravenous intensity that was terrifyingly absolute.
The more she listened to those filthy, explicit words pouring into her ear, the more the intense contrast turned her on.
The vulgarity stripped away any lingering propriety.
It aroused her so deeply, so completely, that the crude language suddenly sounded like the most beautiful music she had ever heard.
As Clark began to reign down wet, open-mouthed kisses and broad strokes of his tongue across her sensitive neck region, biting gently at the tendons, Lana finally stopped fighting her instincts.
She reached up with both hands, plunging her fingers deep into his thick, dark hair, ruffling the neat strands into a messy halo.
She boldly moved her hands down to map the terrain of his shoulders and back.
His body was impossibly solid, so intensely warm and heavily toned with raw, vibrating power that it felt almost unbelievable beneath her fingertips.
"You know, Red..." Clark whispered, pulling back just enough to look her in the eyes again.
As he stared down at her with eyes that had gone entirely black with blown-out pupils, Lana felt that profound, undeniable sense of being prey once again.
She was caught dead right in front of a vastly superior predator.
She felt exactly like a helpless, trembling bunny cornered by a massive, starving wolf.
Clark reached up, his large thumb gently and deceptively softly caressing the flushed curve of her cheek.
"You have committed a sin," he murmured, his tone eerily calm, yet laced with a dark, heavy promise. "A terrible sin against me. A sin of absolute lust and irresistible desire."
He leaned down, pressing his lips to hers for a fleeting, teasing second.
"And now... you have to be properly punished, my Little Red."
Hearing his deep, demanding words, a sudden, thrilling dark fantasy clicked perfectly into place in Lana's overwhelmed mind.
The Red Riding Hood.
She was the girl.
The helpless girl wandering through the dark woods with the red hood.
Or, in this particular, twisted case, the girl is completely bound by her own vivid red hair.
And hovering right before her, pinning her to the bed with undeniable power and terrifying, beautiful hunger, was the Big Bad Wolf.
And he was entirely eager to devour her.