Chapter Text
Clark peered over his comic to peek at Harry, blue eyes narrowing before ducking behind his Invincible issue again, his eyes once more drawn to the slightly older boy reading #50 of The Boys.
His pout deepened, and he resisted the very childish urge to kick his feet as frustration trickled into his being.
This wasn’t fair. How could this be fair? A full year of dating, and Harry hadn’t so much as made a move to have sex with him. Sure, they thoroughly covered all the other bases, multiple times over as many times as they could, but it wasn’t the big one.
He’s heard couples at school who were barely a month or two in going at it, yet his perfectly handsome, perfectly gorgeous boyfriend always drew the line at anything more than oral.
Sure, Clark might have been a quivering virgin the first few times they did more than kiss, but that was months ago. He was a changed man who wanted his man.
He flinched and ducked behind the comic again when green eyes glanced up to meet his, and he watched as Harry’s index finger lowered the Invincible comic from his face.
“You’ve been staring at me hard enough that your lasers might shoot out.”
“Was not.”
“Was too.”
Clark huffed at the childishness of it all. “Was not.”
Harry hummed, his thumb brushing over Clark’s cheeks where the skin burned pink from getting caught, and when Harry leaned in closer, Clark’s breath hitched.
“Was too.”
Harry whispered, and Clark covered his face with the smooth pages of issue #22 to hide the growing blush. Before he could deny it again, the doors to the barn opened, and the sound of his father’s footsteps echoed over the floorboards to stop by the ladder.
“Everything alright in here, boys? You’re awfully quiet.”
Jonathan watched as the comic books were waved over the banister of the hay loft.
“We’re just reading, Dad, no funny business.”
“Hm. Your mom just started dinner. If you’re gonna go anywhere, be back in three hours.”
“Got it, Dad, thanks!”
Jonathan Kent grunted, blue eyes narrowed at the hands that disappeared back down, and not for the first time, he cursed being a human.
Not that he wanted to be a superhero or anything, but it’d be great if he had at least super-hearing so he could catch them red-handed.
Then again... maybe not, but at the same time, he felt it was his duty to protect his only child from the less innocent wonders of the world until he was good and ready.
Harry was a good kid no doubt about it. Far better than some of the riff-raffs he’s seen, but he was also an older teenager, and boys couldn’t be trusted to keep their pants on.
Clark listened as his father’s footsteps retreated and the barn door slid close again with its familiar rattle, and all it took was one look at Harry’s face for his embarrassment to bloom into something else.
Tossing the comic to the side, he straddled Harry, legs on either side of the tapered waist, and hands braced a few inches away from Harry’s ears. Harry raised a dark brow, mirth crystal clear.
“Didn’t you just tell your dad that we weren’t doing any funny business?”
Clark leaned down, dark lashes fluttering over baby blues, and his pink lips twisted into a coy smile.
“We weren’t then, but we are now,” he chirped before pressing his lips to Harry’s.
Harry moaned softly into the kiss before he could help himself, Clark’s tongue licking his lower lip before sliding into his mouth and against his own tongue.
A proficiency Clark didn’t have months ago, and he marveled at how far his boyfriend had come from a clumsy, messy kisser to this fiend of a frencher before he grunted in surprise.
Harry hissed at the sudden friction, Clark’s hips moving to rub his jean-clad ass against Harry’s crotch, a dirty trick but one that worked quickly. Squeezing Clark’s hips to still them and the stimulation he listened to Clark’s whine of protest, his hips twitching.
“Clark, you– fuck!”
Harry sat up, arms wrapping around the broad back of his boyfriend to stop any and all movement after Clark grinded down on him, the stimulation sending a sharp jolt from his cock, down his spine, and back. Green clashed with blue, and he took in Clark’s heated but defiant gaze.
“You know exactly what you’re doing, don’t you…”
He accused, and Clark’s cheeky grin was the only answer he gave before he kissed Harry again, Harry’s hands sliding over the warm, small of his back to rest on the narrow hips again. His fingers flexed there, squeezing the hip bones in warning.
“Don’t start something you’re not able to finish, Clark,” he murmured to the younger boy who flushed prettily right before his eyes.
“Who says I can’t?”
Clark challenged back, and Harry felt his self-restraint snap like a rubber band against the skin.
He initiated the kiss this time.
Tongue sliding deeper, more experienced and tactile in the way it rolled, flicked, and how he sucked on Clark’s, who moaned into the kiss, surprised even though he shouldn’t be.
Large hands squeezed his ass, kneading the pliable flesh still hidden under rough jeans before they drifted upward, fingers lifting the hem of the cotton shirt to tickle Clark’s sides.
Clark’s hips twitched again and again the further Harry’s hands slid, and he moaned when the kiss broke, Harry’s head dipping low to the exposed pink of his stiff left nipple.
Clark’s brain short-circuited for three whole seconds when Harry latched onto it, the blow of warm breath turning into a heated mouth and tongue and God—
Clark’s fingers gripped Harry’s hair to hold him closer to his chest, nipples sensitive after months of toying, teasing, tugging, and suckling. He warbled something incomprehensible, a garble of words without meaning, and he shuddered in Harry’s grasp, back arching to push his plump chest further into the seeking mouth.
He could cum just like this. Already done so in the past just from having his nipples touched and sucked upon.
His cock twitched in his jeans, precum wetting his underwear and turning the front of the jeans darker, hips thrusting the bulge against Harry’s belly.
Clark’s world tilted, and he opened his eyes in time to see the high ceiling of the barn tilt.
Soft hay pillowed his fall as Harry pushed him down onto the dry grass, their bulges aligned and hips rolling to knock the erections against one another.
Electricity careened down the back of his neck, and Clark’s moan was loud and sharp in the near-silent barn, blue eyes begging before his mouth had a chance to. He was begging for more, for Harry to touch him, his fingers coming under his rumpled shirt to pinch stiff nipples between them.
Harry watched him, the sight familiar but no less rousing. He could watch Clark touch himself for centuries more and never tire of the sight.
Unbuckling Clark’s jeans, he tugged the underwear and pants down, boots wrestled off, and tossed to the side until Clark lay under him in just a navy blue cotton tee.
This shouldn’t be so provoking, but it was, and Clark had no idea how many times he’s had to physically restrain himself from doing more, and just having him for hours as he wanted to.
His desire for Clark manifested itself into a physical ache, one that twisted in his rib cage every time he pulled back and stopped. He wanted Clark more than he wanted anything before, but he also wanted to show him the proper respect.
Clark wasn’t a fling; he was someone Harry wanted to be with until their very long lives came to a conclusion someday. He wanted to properly court Clark, to woo him and make sure that Clark knew every day that he was the only one, would be the only for Harry to the end of time.
It was sappy and overly sentimental, but that was how he felt.
He didn’t want to rush things like many their ages did because Clark was worth more than an under-the-bleachers fuck or a quickie in an empty classroom, or even in the backseat of his truck. He’d make sure Clark’s first time was special beyond measure.
Harry deftly unbuckled his belt, jeans, and underwear yanked down with Clark’s excited help, before taking both their cocks in hand. Spitting on the tip of his cock he watched as the saliva ran down the flushed dome, and his hand caught it to smear it with Clark’s precum.
He barely began rubbing them together, cocks slick from spit and precum, but Clark’s already keening, already enticing Harry with sweet sounds.
Clark’s legs spread open, an invitation to Harry to do more than he currently is. Harry squeezed him tighter in his hand in rebuke, and Harry doesn’t fight when soft hands draw him in closer for a kiss.
He loves this. Loves Clark more than he could possibly express, whether in action or words, and he knows in the grand scheme of things, should he need to, he would burn the world around them if it meant protecting Clark.
This was one planet amongst thousands, perhaps millions more. Clark would eventually forgive him if he had to.
Clark gasps, blue eyes wet with unshed tears, and he’s bucking up, hips twitching with a need for more that Harry gives. He squeezes tighter, hand rubbing faster over their cocks pressed together, precum and spit slippery and slick.
It doesn’t take long for Clark’s breathing to shift, his moans elevating and his pretty blues that Harry has dreamt about for as long as he knew the younger boy, widening.
“That’s it… that’s it Clark, cum for me…” Harry murmured against Clark’s lips, and Clark keens, tendons of his neck bulging as he bares his neck, cock twitching almost violently in Harry’s palm.
Harry presses a vindictive thumb against the plump head, digit rubbing the sensitive tip, and watches the exact moment Clark breaks under him.
Clark tries his best; he really does, but he’s loud when he comes. Loud and so unwittingly erotic in the way his pink lips part, blues that stare at Harry as if he had been served an injustice, and the way the flush on his skin darkens.
He stifled Clark’s cries, the vivacious, resounding calling of it; his hand releasing his own cock to continue milking Clark’s.
Palm stroking over twitching flesh and teasing the swelling tip until warmth spills over his fingers and onto Clark’s belly and chest in arching splatters of white.
He kept going until Clark’s low moans turn frantic, and Harry has done this enough times to know his boyfriend can cum again, palm rubbing over the tip, and within seconds, he’s proven right.
Fingers dig into the meat of his shoulder blades, and Harry bites Clark’s lower lip, pink flesh caught between white teeth, before his tongue slides into the moaning cavern. Clark clings to him, legs tightening around Harry’s waist, and hands holding him tighter as his second orgasm rips through him.
He stares down at Clark, gaze taking in the panting teen whose legs are once more splayed open, chest wet with cum and Harry’s spit.
Under Clark’s stare, he brings his hand to his mouth to lick at the cooling cream of Clark’s release, green eyes squinting in delight at the embarrassment spreading across Clark’s face.
Harry doesn’t give him time to protest about eating his cum, his cock head angling lower to smear precum over Clark’s fluttering, untouched, tight hole.
He could see, in the blue depths, that if he wanted to, Clark would let him, but he settled for resting his still hard dick onto Clark’s stomach.
“This is how far I’ll reach inside you,” Harry murmured, his voice low, and he watched a shiver ripple through Clark whose eyes dipped low to stare at Harry’s cock resting against his belly, dark lashes falling to half-mast.
“This is how deep I’ll be in you, Clark.”
Clark flushed deeper at the sight of Harry's cock reaching his naval, the imagery just a bit frightening, and Harry laughs softly at the hesitation, not cruelly but knowing.
“Roll over on your hands and knees,” he instructs “If you wanna feel what it’s like to have sex, I’ll show you.”
The blue of Clark’s eyes brighten, his interest piqued, and Harry is knocked breathless at how Clark trusts him without question, Clark rolling over onto his hands and knees effortlessly.
Harry stared at the smooth skin of Clark’s ass, hands tracing from the muscular thighs, up the curve of his rump, and over to grasp the slim waist.
Blue eyes glance back at Harry, curiosity and excitement shining in pools of aquamarine, and not for the first time, Harry came to the realization that Clark might just be some type of sex fiend.
His thumb caresses the soft skin along the right cheek; years of hard farm work and a genetic predisposition to muscle growth have left Clark with a physique many humans would envy, and he still had room to grow.
Harry leaned down, mouth opening and teeth biting softly into the supple skin of Clark’s ass cheek.
Clark's squeak of surprise made it impossible for him to resist doing it again.
His boyfriend was just too cute.
“Harry…”
“Okay, okay,” he grinned at Clark’s whining, green eyes shifting from the narrowed gaze and down to the pretty pink pucker nestled between the cheeks his mouth toyed with.
Softly tapping his cock against the pretty crease, he watched as Clark tensed then relaxed, Harry's cock slick with precum and Clark’s cum sliding over it again and again.
Harry stared at it as it twitched in anticipation of the next touch, and he had to briefly close his eyes and rein in a frayed cord of control.
They haven’t done much in terms of sexual stuff, partly because Harry knew that Clark would find some way to persuade him to let him have more, and also because Harry felt guilty at times for betraying Jonathan Kent’s trust.
It wasn’t all Harry’s fault, because under Clark’s boyish charm and innocent airs lay a sexually adventurous sponge that soaked up everything Harry told and taught him— everything from kissing, nipple play, and giving blowjobs.
He slid his cock from between Clark’s cheeks and down to the muscular but creamy smooth thighs.
“Close your thighs,” he instructs the younger boy, and Clark wiggles as he shuffles his legs close.
“L-Like this?”
Clark gasps when Harry thrusts forward, hard cock knocking against his semi-hard one that quickly stiffened.
Spitting on the winking star below, his thumb pressed then rubbed against the pucker, spit slicking the slow circles over it until Clark’s hip began to shove backward, desperate to keep the friction going.
Harry kept the pace, his cock squeezed deliciously tight between the warm covers of Clark’s thighs, head knocking against Clark’s balls to drive forward, sliding along and over the younger Kryptonite’s own cock.
Clark was moaning again, loud and staggering, head bowing to look under him, to stare at the place where Harry’s cock was ‘fucking’ him.
“It’s good… mhm it’s really good, Harry!”
Clark’s voice spilled out without his permission, the hay loft a myriad of moans from Clark’s own mouth and soft ragged breathing from Harry.
Clark looked down past the swell of his chest to his closed legs, blue eyes watching as Harry’s thick cock slid against his balls and over his cock.
It felt good, felt so amazing. He wanted it, wanted to feel it inside of him, wanted to know how it would feel to have such a big thing pressing into, and parting his untouched insides.
He thought about it a lot. In the privacy of his room or during school, and even while doing chores around the farm.
Ever since Harry gave him his first blow job and since Clark had shyly asked to be taught to give one, he’s thought about it. Fantasized about being pinned to the mattress and made a mess of by his boyfriend.
His toes curl.
He wants it.
Wantwantwant blurring into a violent, frenzied need.
Clark’s hole fluttered, clenching tight when warm saliva splashed down onto it again.
He gasped aloud and squealed in surprise, eyes widening when the circling thumb that teased his hole suddenly sank in, then out in sync with Harry’s thrusting cock.
It was electrifying, the spread, the pressure, and the ever so slight sting, and Clark’s sobbing into the pillow of his arm when he came again untouched. The stimulation and the thumb sliding in and out of him all too much.
Harry was groaning, low broken sounds hitched between ragged breaths, and Clark looked back, watched as his boyfriend’s eyes dipped low, and felt the hard cock slide from between his thighs. He moaned when the flushed tip nudged at his hole, and God did he want it.
It rubbed over his hole once, then twice, and then Harry’s breathing paused, head leaning back to expose the column of tan flesh Clark loved to nibble on. He was coming, warm cum splashing over his back and onto the pink of his twitching hole to run down over his balls.
It feels good, being marked like this, kinda like a promise, and Clark pushed his ass back to rub the cum messy hole against Harry’s cock before Harry tipped him onto his back.
Clark giggled, trembling legs spreading and arms pulling Harry closer.
He can lift a tractor with one hand, but doing these things, sex with Harry, always left him weak.
He doesn’t know what kind of face he’s making, but Harry’s expression is like a window, eyes staring down at him with something so deep and profound that Clark can’t help but flush.
Harry leaned down, and Clark warbled into the kiss.
It’s soft and sweet, and Clark is indisputably in love.