“Did you think I wouldn’t notice, Keira?”
“Ms Grant, I can explain-”
“Maybe you thought I’d be impressed? Commend you on finally getting a sense of style?” Cat persists, approaching Kara who is now cornered by the bar in Cat’s office. “But I happen to recognize that blouse.”
“I spilled coffee,” Kara tries to explain. “And then Adam was there, and I knew you’d be mad if I looked like a klutz in front of him. Then I remembered I had your dry cleaning in here, so…”
“No Supergirl quick changes for you?” Cat has a dangerous glint in her eye now. Kara isn’t quite so sure her cover story is holding up in the face of an extra Supergirl flying around town. Why oh why had she ever pointed out that Bizarro might not be her?
“Right,” Kara seizes on what is hopefully her lifeline. “I had to make do with the clothes available. I’m sorry, I can go get something else from home, I-”
“Keep it,” Cat sighs. “I’m surprised it fits you, with those linebacker shoulders of yours.”
“Hey!” Kara protests.
“But don’t ever,” Cat steps in close then, running one finger along the neckline of the dark blue garment. “Take anything belonging to me without permission. Or I’ll have you take it off, right where we stand. Understood?”
“Yes, Ms Grant.” Kara is blushing so hard she thinks she might pass out. Her fingers actually flicker towards the buttons for a moment because all she wants is to take her clothes off in front of her demanding boss. Judging by Cat’s smirk, she knows exactly what Kara is thinking, and suddenly it’s clear that this whole situation with Adam is a test. One Kara is not about to fail. She’ll break things off with him tonight, and maybe in a week or so she’ll borrow something else of Cat’s.
She’ll make sure it’s something Cat really loves, Kara decides. Best way to make sure the punishment fits the crime.
Kara uses the intervening days for reconnaissance. Although she’s intimately familiar with the particulars of Cat’s days, and inadvertently responsible for too many of her possessions, there’s no harm in a little research.
For example, Cat might discard pairs of glasses everywhere from the balcony to the backseats of the fleet of town cars on call for her every trip around National City, but she never loses track of her favorite pen. It might be wise to source replacements, Kara realizes, and she commits the rare slip of cursing at her desk when clicking through the Mont Blanc website to find the champagne gold pen. Of course Cat Grant has a $2,000 preference in writing implements. Of course she favors one with an honest-to-God diamond in the cap.
If Kara’s thighs have to be pressed together at this discovery, she’s certainly not going to dwell on why.
The pen is her white whale. Kara knows this already, as surely as she knows that Cat always eats the orange M&Ms first, or that she wears lighter perfumes on Fridays because that’s usually when her hangover is worst. Knowledge is power, and Kara is technically the most powerful woman in National City these days.
No, she has to start smaller, test whether Cat was telling the truth about taking back anything that Kara takes from her.
The obvious place to start seems to be with a pair of Cat’s glasses. They’re the most frequently abandoned, and Kara has personally ordered at least twelve replacement pairs that she keeps stashed in strategic locations for when Cat’s frustration at her long-sightedness bubbles over in a shorter time than usual. On those occasions it’s a race to the death to be the first person to lay hands on a pair, and that’s a race Kara always wins.
Which is why, the following morning, she takes the reliable spare pair from her desk drawer and swaps them out for her own right before the morning editorial meeting. Cat doesn’t need to be taking meetings on this level, and until last year she never did. The downsizing of the Trib, even after Supergirl’s emergence, has put more responsibility back on Cat where the newspaper’s skeleton staff can no longer absorb it. Managing the direction and quality level has become an obsession of Cat’s in recent months, so much so that Kara almost feels guilty at attempting to distract her from it.
Of course she can’t see very well with actual prescription lenses. There’s no mistaking the way Cat verbally trips mid-sentence on seeing Kara’s face, though. Cat Grant does not stutter, she does not fumble for words. She never, ever forgets what she was saying mid-sentence, though Kara often suspects that what comes out isn’t always what Cat started out intending. This morning, she’s interrupted from a tirade about journalistic standards by the simple fact of her black, pointed glass frames resting on Kara’s nose.
From that point on it’s a countdown until everyone else can be kicked out of the room. They leave quickly, unsure how they’ve earned the reprieve of a mere ten-minute meeting, but no one is any hurry to ask for more of Cat’s distracted, snappish questions.
“Keira,” she says after the doors close behind the Business Editor. “Won’t you step over here?”
“Did you need something, Ms Grant?” Kara asks, adjusting the glasses as naturally as though they were her own. Off Cat’s glare, she makes her way a few steps closer to the desk. It’s actually tricky not to stumble, since her depth perception thrown off like this. Thankfully super balance keeps her from face planting on the floor and ruining her first attempt at deliberately provoking her boss.
“Come around here,” Cat clucks impatiently, sitting down in her chair. “You didn’t have any problem invading my space after your little pen pal stunt, so don’t be afraid of it now.”
“Right,” Kara answers, walking around the desk with deliberate steps.
“What did I tell you when I found you wearing my blouse, Keira?”
“You said not to do it again,” Kara replies, saving the best detail for now. “And this blouse is all mine. I have the receipt from JC Penney in my purse.”
“I’m sure you do,” Cat cuts her off with a bored little wave and a scrunch of her nose at the provinciality of it all. “But I believe I said anything of mine, in fact. Do you happen to remember what the consequences of that would be?”
“Consequences?” Kara plays dumb, linking her fingers in front of her body and feigning all the innocence she can muster. “I think you said something about taking them off me?”
“Is that how you remember it?” Cat is intrigued. “And you decided to wear my glasses anyway. That’s… interesting.”
“Is it?” Kara’s voice is pitching higher. She swallows, trying to maintain her self-control. “Are you going to take them back?”
“I can’t reach. Are you descended from Amazons?”
“I could bend forward,” Kara can barely say the words. She can feel her cheeks flushing red. This is surely the moment she gets fired.
“Then do it,” Cat says, tucking her elbows in to keep the arms of the chair clear for Kara. With a deep, steadying breath, Kara leans forward and grips those arms as if her life depends on it. She’s perilously close to Cat now, and can’t help wondering what it looks like to anyone outside in the main office. Thankfully most people try to avoid looking into Cat’s office unless summoned. The glass wall might as well be Medusa’s face for the way they never want to get caught looking in its general direction.
“I’m right here,” Kara says after a moment. “Do you want them back?”
Cat reaches out, her fingertips grazing Kara’s temple as she slips the glasses from her face with one hand. The glasses are tossed carelessly onto the desk, but Cat’s now in-focus gaze never shifts from Kara’s face.
“What’s going on with you?” She whispers, but Kara’s only response is to straighten up and walk away.
“I have to reschedule your lunch with Miranda,” she announces, although it’s already done.
“Was there anything else?” Cat shakes her head.
That Kara’s legs carry her out of the office is nothing short of a miracle. Her knees have almost certainly turned to water, and when she collapses into her own chair it’s all she can do to keep from laughing out loud. She fakes some typing on her keyboard and even picks up the phone to mime a call. To all intents and purposes, Kara is exactly as she’s always been.
But Cat didn’t tell her to stop, and she didn’t fire Kara either. It’s as close as Cat gets to actually encouraging anyone, and giddy from the rush of her first small victory, Kara can already sense the next stage of her plan forming. She just happens to know that another Barney’s delivery is coming to the office tomorrow, and it’s the loyal assistant’s job to unpack everything from bags and boxes and hangers, ready in Cat’s private dressing area for her to try on when the schedule permits.
Unloading Cat’s latest Barney’s spree takes twice as long as normal. Kara is casing the merchandise for something memorable enough that Cat will recognize it as hers without ever wearing it, but not so clearly out of Kara’s usual style that people will point and stare. Nobody noticed the glasses, but she can’t always rely on that luck holding out.
The last things to unpack are the accessories, and as soon as she sees the white silk scarf, Kara knows it will look perfectly intentional with her pale pink shirt dress and belt. She pulls up YouTube on her phone to check the appropriate way of wearing such a thing, since her own attempts make it look like part of a Girl Scout’s uniform. Not even close to the impression she’s trying to make.
With the requisite elegant knot and tuck of material, she goes back to her desk and awaits Cat’s return from being interviewed by someone from the news division. Nobody else has been around long enough to notice the pattern, but Kara knows that the truly indulgent shopping sprees coincide with days Cat knows she’s going to be on camera. Whether it’s nerves or some kind of defense mechanism against the passing of time, Kara couldn’t possibly speculate.
Cat marches into her office and calls for her first latte of the afternoon without remembering to truly look at Kara. Cat only does that when Kara brings the Noonan’s cup and sets it down on Cat’s desk. She stands in front, of course; she doesn’t cross those invisible lines without invitation. An endless stretch of time seems to pass until Cat finally gives her full attention.
“Shopping at Hermès these days?” Cat asks lightly. “I must be paying you too much.”
“I don’t think anyone could accuse you of that,” Kara retorts. “Was there anything else?” She’s never asked that question so much as since this game began. She knows fine well that what Cat wants, she asks for. Kara just needs to make sure she creates a situation where Cat knows this otherwise forbidden want can be requested, too.
“Aren’t you worried I’ll get bored of this?” Cat demands, trying to sound exactly that. But Kara notices the flicker of Cat’s tongue over her bottom lip, and hears the increased beats of her heart racing. “This… insubordination?”
Kara has always enjoyed the way Cat speaks, the over-enunciation that comes from a life spent trying to communicate clearly and better than anyone else around her. When she makes the ‘b’ in that thrilling word pop, Kara feels it as though Cat pressed her lips between Kara’s thighs to say it. The sneer around the ‘sh’ of insubordination makes Kara worry she might actually fall over this time.
“You tell me,” Kara all but whimpers. She stands straight, defiant. If Cat is willing to play this game, she’ll have to come and get it. Cat, mercifully, does exactly that. She leans forward, palms on her desk, and motions with her head for Kara to come closer. Kara swallows, hard, and complies.
“Yet again, I believe you have something of mine,” Cat points out, her voice dropped a full octave into a tone that resonates all over Kara’s skin. She used to be scared of it, Now she wants that voice, dripping with authority, to be the only thing she hears all day. “And despite your best efforts last time, I believe my exact threat was to have you remove stolen items in front of me.”
“Yes, I remember your threat,” Kara replies. “But maybe for today, if you want what’s yours,” she lets the implication hang in the air between them, the letters almost visible as they fall from her tongue to form the word. “Then you’ll have to take it.”
“Behavior like this is asking for punishment,” Cat warns, and Kara has to grip the edge of the desk to hold on to the last remnants of her control. She can’t stop the broken dates and the stolen girls and the alien haters, but she can control this new game with Cat. She can be bad, in this one thrilling way, and save all the goodness for the world that takes and takes, but never gives back. Here, she will be the one who says yes or no. Here she will offer only exactly what she’s willing to give.
So she lays her palms on Cat’s desk, mirroring her position, and lowers her head. Cat must know what she has to do now.
Cat’s fingers aren’t gentle when they brush the back of Kara’s neck. Tentative was to be expected, but Cat hadn’t conquered the world by timidly meeting expectations. Kara draws inspiration from that as the silk rasps against her skin, suddenly pulled taut after Cat unknots it. She tilts Kara’s chin back up with the hand grasping the scarf.
“You clearly can’t be trusted with my things,” Cat says, voice even but her eyes darkened with what Kara has to assume is lust. “Starting tomorrow I’ll be conducting regular searches.”
“Yes, Ms Grant,” Kara replies, though her voice is weakened by the pressure at her throat. Cat whips the scarf away and replaces its hold with her fingers for just a few seconds. Kara whimpers.
Cat bites down on her bottom lip at the sound.
“That’s all,” she says, releasing Kara and dismissing her in two words. Kara turns, focuses on putting one foot in front of the other, and somehow makes it back to her desk.
Cat arrives at her usual charged pace, but without the litany of complaints that usually fall from her the moment she steps off the elevator. She says only one word, a clearly enunciated “Keira” as she passes Kara’s desk, punctuated by the briefest crooking of a finger. Kara sets Cat’s latte back on the desk and follows without a word.
She’s led, as she scarcely dared hope, to the private room off Cat’s office where her Barney’s purchases are still stacked and waiting.
It’s risky, using super speed in a moment of Cat’s distraction to steal her watch. Kara is practically vibrating with the thrill a second later, tucking the stolen item beneath the cuff of her pale blue shirt. Done with flicking through the clothes on the rail, Cat turns her focus back to Kara.
“Turn,” she commands. “Face the wall.”
Kara can picture exactly what that entails, the placing of her hands against the plaster, the slight widening of her stance. She knows, but all she does is turn on the spot, offering the very minimum of compliance. Kara holds her breath.
“If you’re waiting for me to tell you to assume the position, you should have stolen from a cop,” Cat warns, but there’s that honey in her tone that Kara knows means she’s faintly impressed. She doesn’t hear it often enough anymore. “Hands on the wall. Feet apart.”
Kara complies, exposing the watch on her wrist. She almost seems to have gotten away with it, when Cat moves to the side and yanks Kara’s hand away from the wall.
“Oh, you’re getting bolder,” she says, her grip on Kara’s wrist would be enough to bruise anyone else. “Did you even recognize this as a Cartier Tank? It’s an antique, one of the first thirty ever made.”
“It’s pretty,” Kara says, feigning nonchalance. She looks not at the watch, but at Cat’s fingers tensing beside the leather strap. “You have good taste.”
Cat watches Kara’s lips intently as she drags out the word ‘taste’. A moment later, the watch is being slipped from her wrist. Kara expects Cat to put it right back on, but instead the leather strap is presented right in front of Kara’s face when she turns to Cat for further instruction.
“I don’t expect you can tell time on anything other than digital,” Cat snarks, her impatience with Kara’s youth and energy palpable in the limited space between them. “So you’ll be holding this for my benefit. When the big hand reaches 12, you’re mine to search as I see fit.”
Kara removes one hand from the wall to take it, but Cat grips her wrist roughly and guides the hand back into place.
“No hands,” Cat clarifies, still holding the watch in front of Kara’s lips. “Let’s see how much bite you really have. But I warn you, one mark on that leather and you’ll get a matching one anywhere I deem necessary.”
Kara swallows, hard. Any lingering doubts about Cat’s level of interest in this game are obliterated now. She shifts position and parts her lips to accept the watch strap between her teeth. It takes all her self-control not to bite down, but she grips just tightly enough to prevent the watch from dropping. A moment later Cat grasps the watch face and counts down the seconds, her gaze alternating between the dial and Kara’s expectant face.
“And so we begin,” Cat announces, letting go of the watch and tilting her head the same way she does right before eviscerating the nearest employee for incompetence. Kara braces herself, expecting Cat to hesitate, for that first eventual touch to be as tentative as Kara herself might be. This is still a significant line to cross for them.
But Cat is direct, laying her hands firmly on Kara’s shoulders. She squeezes hard enough for her fingers to dig into the muscles there before flattening her palms and patting down each arm in turn. Kara wishes she’d gone with a cardigan, because the cotton of her shirt is painfully thin and Cat’s touch almost scalds as she moves over Kara’s body with complete confidence. She makes a show of checking how many seconds have elapsed, moving behind Kara again and crouching down to start at her ankles.
This time Cat slips her fingers beneath the material of Kara’s navy pants, those immaculately-manicured nails scraping over the sensitive skin of her ankle bones. It’s all Kara can do to hold her breath as Cat slides her hands up over Kara’s calves, her knees, and when she stops just below the tops of her thighs, Kara can’t help the shuddering sigh that escapes.
Any sense of relief is short-lived as Cat grips her hips next, pulling Kara closer to her. Kara doesn’t exactly mean to roll her hips, but Cat’s split-second hum of approval makes the slip worth it. Then her hands are pressing into Kara’s pockets, which makes sense when looking for stolen goods, but Kara almost bends double at the suddenness of it.
“Stand still,” Cat warns, and after a moment she withdraws her hands. There’s very little in the way of mercy though, because her next port of call is Kara’s ass, skimming over it before sliding her hands into those pockets, and Kara doesn’t know whether to thank Rao that she wore these tight-fitting pants from the Gap, or wish she’d had the foresight to wear a skirt. The thought of how Cat might search under a skirt almost makes her drop the leather strap from her lips.
All too quickly those hands are on the move again, stroking Kara’s sides to complete the circuit. Kara mourns the contact the moment Cat steps away again, leaning in to snatch her watch back without much ceremony.
“Oh Keira,” she tuts. “How careless. I quite specifically told you not to leave any marks.”
“I’m sorry, Ms Grant?” Kara isn’t. Not even a tiny little bit. “Although, I was thinking a strip search would be more thorough?” She can’t look at Cat. Blushing harder than she ever has in her life, Kara is staring resolutely at the floor.
“If you can’t look me in the eye and ask for what you want, you don’t deserve to have it,” Cat tells her. “But you were told what would happen if you disobeyed me.”
“You’ll mark me,” Kara whispers. Cat nods when Kara looks up. “Wh… where?”
Cat’s hands snake around her waist again, the watch still clasped in her hand. She doesn’t wait to see how Kara reacts, simply wrestles the button of her pants free and yanks the zipper down.
“I suppose I should check you haven’t stolen my underwear too,” Cat grumbles, hands still on the waistband and her mouth close to Kara’s ear. “Now pull these down. But hands back in position the moment they reach your thighs, understood?”
Kara nods and places her hands on top of Cat’s for a second before Cat moves away. As slowly as she dares, Kara inches the pants down over her ass. Every time she thinks she might be out of her depth, there’s one more thing she can think of to dig herself in deeper: she wiggles her hips slightly for what she hopes is a pleasing effect. Cat’s sharp intake of breath suggests this latest idea has worked.
“Left?” Cat skims a finger along the edge of Kara’s cotton panties. Her tone doesn’t suggest she’s waiting for an answer. “Or right?” She repeats the action on the other cheek, but reverses the motion by dragging her nail and making Kara’s breath hitch. “Left,” she decides, and lifts her hand clear.
Kara tenses, expecting a smack. Hoping might be the more appropriate word.
Instead of Cat’s palm, there’s the muted crack of leather against skin. It doesn’t hurt Kara, very little can, but the sting is there for a fleeting second. Perhaps because she wants it to sting.
“Not enough,” Cat muses, and Kara nods in agreement. The watch strap was a nice touch, but even without Kryptonian resistance to pain, it’s more gesture than effect. The second swing is the flat of Cat’s hand, not the palm but the stiffer impact of Cat’s fingers held rigid. The sound alone makes Kara’s knees falter, and Cat rubs the spot she hit for a moment until Kara recovers. “Your skin doesn’t mark,” she observes. “How utterly unsurprising, at this stage.”
“I want it to,” Kara breathes. “It feels like it did.”
“Tidy yourself up,” Cat commands after a fraught moment passes in silence. “Just remember searches will be random, but regular. Until you learn to behave.”
“Yes, Ms Grant,” Kara replies, reluctantly pulling her pants back up. By the time she’s zipped and buttoned, the door is already swinging closed behind Cat. When Kara ducks out of the annex room, she notices Cat hasn’t returned to her desk. That only leaves the washroom that rounds out this office suite, and Kara doesn’t dare let her thoughts wander to that. Not yet. She smooths down her shirt and returns to her post outside Cat’s office.
It’s fifteen full minutes before Cat returns, face flushed. She meets Kara’s inquiring gaze without blinking, and the satisfied smirk almost kills Kara on the spot.
In her excitement, Kara forgot about the impending weekend. Although Cat is demanding throughout the week, she rarely invades Saturday or Sunday other than through abrupt texts. Perhaps it’s to safeguard her time with Carter, or perhaps even Cat Grant needs some time off from the world.
Saturday passes in a blur of chaos, destruction, and the gratitude of rescued people. Kara toys with the idea of telling Alex, or at least hinting that a flirtation has started. One instance of Cat’s name in conversation, though, and Alex seizes the opportunity to rant about how Kara needs a better job, how she can do so much better. Kara realizes, not for the first time, that no one on Earth truly knows what she needs.
With the possible, notable, and thrilling exception of her boss.
By Sunday evening Kara is almost climbing the walls of her apartment. Brunch, three ruined canvases and a disastrous attempt at making brownies have done little to fill the yawning hours of the day, and National City remains resolutely free of natural disasters or notable crime. When Cat’s text comes, Kara almost sends the phone flying through the window in her rush to pick it up.
Need file with dirt on remaining board members. At home. ASAP.
Kara tries to tell herself it doesn’t matter that she’s the only other person who knows the combination to that safe where Cat keeps her most personal files. That she knows at home means the penthouse and not the beach house without having to ask. That ASAP means it won’t hurt to use a little super speed and lie about having already dropped by the office to get something of her own. She’s lying to herself even as she’s flying out of the living room window and hurtling towards the CatCo building.
The office is serene in Cat’s absence, the screens blank and no charge in the air from her electrifying presence. Kara takes her time about accessing the safe behind Cat’s desk, lingering in the memories of what’s played out here in recent days. She’s surprised to see Cat’s favorite pen lying carelessly in the middle of the blotter, a temptation Kara almost can’t resist.
That would be too easy for where they are now. There’s the whisper of an idea, a thought so vivid that Kara shocks even herself. When she takes that pen from Cat, there’ll be no mistaking it for simple misplacing.
There’s jewelry in the safe, too, and it’s a wonder Cat knows where any of her possessions are at any given time. Kara recognizes the diamond choker from the Governor’s Ball, the ruby pendant from the Correspondents’ Dinner. There’s a bracelet Carter made in school, not the friendship cords that Alex and Kara brought home to Eliza from camp, but actual silver and some kind of gemstone. Kara moves it to a more prominent spot in the hope Cat will remember to take it home, or better yet wear it on one of the days Carter comes by after school.
The Tiffany lock, covered in sparkling diamonds, is the bauble Kara can’t resist. The idea of stringing an actual padlock around her neck, especially a platinum one that Cat has worn only once to Kara’s knowledge, feels fitting for this out of hours summoning. She fastens it behind her neck and practically skips back to the balcony to take off.
Slipping through the window in the rarely used second dining room, Kara quick changes from her super suit back into the jeans and tank she’d been lounging around the house in. It suddenly feels inadequate for getting Cat to notice her, even with the shiny necklace at her throat. Kara stashes her suit and boots before stepping out into the hallway, conveniently just by where she would have stepped out of the private elevator if she’d been a regular assistant.
The coat rack solves the problem of her informal clothing. It’s perhaps a step too far, but in a week where Cat has run her hands over every inch of Kara’s body and had her willingly bare her ass, maybe it’s the logical next move. Kara uses a second burst of super speed to remove her clothes and stuff them in the purse along with her super gear.
There’s a beige Burberry trench hanging there that Kara dons instead, turning up the collar and drinking in the rich scent of Cat’s perfume. It’s a signature blend, made exclusively for her in Paris. To Kara it smells like money, like power, and like wanting to be bent over Cat’s desk almost every time she walks into the office lately. It steels her determination to see the plan through, the soft material fitting perfectly against her bare skin. The upturned collar and buttoned coat hide the necklace for the moment.
She calls out once, twice, but it’s only when she ventures toward the living room that she hears the straining notes of Janis Joplin in the barely-lit space. Cat is waiting by the fireplace, lost in something on her tablet. Kara announces herself by clearing her throat, startling Cat from her reverie.
“Crisis averted,” Cat announces, and there’s the familiar whoosh of an email sending before she tosses the tablet on the sofa. “You didn’t entirely waste your time, I have some things to add to that file after this last little reshuffle.”
“You changed the makeup of the board again? In the time it took me to get here?”
“Survival,” Cat offers by way of explanation. “You can get back to your Chopped marathon, or whatever I stole you away from.”
“I wasn’t busy,” Kara admits, dropping the file on the low coffee table. She feels Cat’s eyes on her as she walks back toward the hall.
“That’s brazen, even by your recent standards.” Cat sets the glass down. “I could pretend not to notice and let you waltz out of here,” she calls after her when Kara takes her next step. “I suspect that would be the actual punishment.”
Kara stops in mid-stride. She waits.
“I didn’t say I was home alone,” Cat continues. “You’re being presumptuous.”
“I booked the car for Carter,” Kara reminds her. “So unless you have a date hiding in a closet somewhere...?” That might be too far. Kara holds her breath until Cat makes her decision.
“Get over here,” she commands. Kara turns smartly and returns to the seating area. Cat folds herself into the corner of the huge sofa that wraps around part of the room. Kara stands between her and the coffee table, hands clasped in front of her. “This time, we follow the letter of my original instructions. You. Are. Caught. So take it off.”
Cat sips from the whisky she’s brought with her from the fireplace. “Slowly,” she adds. As though Kara is capable of rushing. As though Kara would do anything that means leaving Cat’s company any time soon.
“Like this?” Kara asks, bunching her hands in the fabric of the coat and hiking it a little higher than where it falls on mid-thigh.
“Don’t be coy,” Cat warns.
“I guess I could start with a button?” Kara unbuttons the lowest one first, wanting to keep her second stolen item hidden for as long as possible.
Cat beckons with one finger, setting her glass aside. Kara moves closer, feeling clumsy and awkward all over again. She wants so badly to be elegant, enticing. She wants Cat to lose just a little of that effortless poise at the sight of Kara starting to strip in front of her.
“Kneel.” Cat pats her lap, and Kara feels the relief of being directed flow through her. Cat will know just what to do with her, and Kara will enjoy every moment of being told. She straddles Cat’s lap, one knee either side. Kara’s suddenly, undeniably aware of how wet she is already. How naked she is beneath this coat she’s removing, even as the inside of her thighs is starting to feel slick. “Another button,” Cat urges, her voice just a little more breathy than it was a moment ago.
Kara is proud when her fingers don’t tremble as she complies. The action parts the coat far enough to make it clear she’s not wearing anything on her lower half, although Cat might assume there’s some underwear just out of view. The resulting gasp from Cat is a bigger high for Kara than flying, almost.
Cat grabs the loose knot in the trench’s belt then, making a fist around it tight enough for her knuckles to turn white. It looks like she’s about to tell Kara to stop, to throw her out into the night and tell her the game ends here. Kara can’t breathe at the thought of it.
Then Cat relents, untying the knot instead. Her hands are far less steady, but she grabs both ends of the belt like she did her own scarf, and pulls Kara closer. It’s not an embrace, exactly, but Kara bows her head again, their cheeks almost aligned.
“You’d better be sure,” Cat murmurs, her words laced with promise and not a little bit of warning. “About what you want to happen here. If this is some power crush, some vain attempt to be me-”
“It’s not,” Kara interrupts. “If that’s all it was, I could have kept my panties on, Ms Grant.”
“Cat,” she insists, around a soft little groan. “Or I’ll never be able to concentrate at work. Ms Grant is for the office.”
It’s the first real admission that Kara might have some lasting effect on her. Kara smiles, tugs Cat’s hair lightly to tilt her head for a kiss. To her dismay, Cat turns her face away.
“Let’s not confuse things,” Cat warns, her fingers stroking Kara’s thigh to show she isn’t rejecting her, not entirely. “Release. That’s what this is about. Now, another button.”
She doesn’t release the belt, but nudges Kara back a little to put her back on display. It’s like being held in place by a taut rope around her waist, and Kara finds that she enjoys the sensation. Working the remaining buttons, she bares herself to Cat, stolen necklace and all. The coat slips down her shoulders, folding over its belt until Cat finally lets go. The soft material slides to the floor behind them.
The music fades out then, perhaps the end of the album, and all Kara can hear is their breathing, harsh and slightly desperate as Cat rakes her eyes over Kara’s body. Their heartbeats are erratic too, out of sync and almost competing in their loudness. Kara hasn’t felt this overloaded in a long time. She needs a firm touch to ground her again. It’s what she tries to tell Cat with a heated look.
“Patience,” Cat urges, reaching across to finger the locket. “I assume this is meant to remind me that you, more than anyone, have total access to almost every part of my life? It’s not a threat is it?” Kara slowly shakes her head. “Pity. That might have been sort of impressive.”
“This isn’t about hurting you,” Kara reminds her. “You can hurt me, if you like. I can take it.” It’s clearer than Kara ever intended to be.
“Turn,” Cat responds after a short eternity. “Bend over. Hands on the table, flat. And lose the glasses. Or I’ll start calling you by your title.”
Kara stands, the coat crumpling beneath her bare feet. She surveys the dark wood of the low table, placing one palm on it and then the other. Her shoulder muscles flex at the angle of it, her ass lifting in the air slightly more as soon as she hears Cat start to move behind her.
“You can’t keep your fingers to yourself, hmm?” Cat’s timbre does not invite a response. She’s stern, some genuine annoyance there that Kara has found a way to affect her. “If you were hoping to get my attention, you have it. But bad girls get punished. You might get a little mercy for making the strip search so easy. I wouldn’t count on it though.”
Cat stands, her linen pants brushing against Kara’s ass, barely grazing the backs of her thighs. She moves faster than Kara usually gives humans credit for, the first crack of hand against skin like thunder pealing in the otherwise quiet room. Something shifts in Kara then. As she regulates her breathing, she feels her invulnerability recede, almost as though she’s willing it. It’s something like the technique she learned to control her hearing and x-ray vision.
Three deep breaths later and she can feel the heat on her skin, the unfamiliar bite of genuine pain. The giddy sensation that sweeps over her in response is what Kara imagines being drunk might feel like. Cat’s second smack is a little easier to sense coming, but the cry that falls from Kara’s mouth is genuine enough to shock them both.
“You really feel it,” Cat wonders. “Can you do that?”
“Apparently,” Kara pants. “More. Please.”
Cat takes a step back, and Kara fears the spell is broken. Instead the next blow hits just a little more to the right. Kara’s head drops, and she breathes through her nose for a moment.
“This is for the coat,” Cat announces as the next smack lands, to the left this time. “And for the scarf.” Crack. “The glasses.” Crack. “The blouse.” Crack. Crack. Crack. “Watch. Necklace. For taking two at once.”
“I’m not sorry,” Kara huffs. “I’ll do it again.” The pain is exquisite. She never understood before why people would willingly get into fights, tattoo their skin, break things just to drown out their feelings. Now she can access it, Kara isn’t sure she knows how to stop.
“Now you’ve taken a little punishment,” Cat drawls, taking her hand from where it’s lightly squeezing Kara’s hip. “I think it’s time we discussed how you make this up to me. Keeping you in line is going to be a lot of work. I deserve a reward, surely?”
Kara almost falls flat in her race to turn around and all but pounce on Cat. There’s no point in risking the rejection in going for another kiss on the mouth, so Kara backs Cat onto the sofa again and kisses the base of her throat instead. Cat’s sinful moan vibrates against Kara’s lips, and she bites down before she can stop herself.
“Oh, very good,” Cat enthuses. “You know, until last week I thought you were as vanilla as soft scoop. What would everyone think if they could see Sunny Danvers now?”
“They’d think I’m going to tear this blouse right off you,” Kara growls against Cat’s collarbone. “May I?”
“Oh, now you ask permission?” Kara responds by tearing the sage green silk, buttons scattering on both sides of them. Cat doesn’t flinch under her roving gaze, confident in the elegant beauty her body still holds. The seafoam lace of her bra looks almost fragile, her pale skin soft beneath the tentative exploration of Kara’s fingertips. There’s a slight blurring of definition in places, but as Kara traces the line of Cat’s ribs with her short nails, the surge of desire prompts Kara to pepper the planes of Cat’s chest with open-mouthed kisses.
Cat won’t give kisses, but Kara can take them as surely as she took Cat’s possessions. She can lay these kisses on Cat’s body in reverence, as an offering of Kara’s own spiralling need for contact. She wants, needs, has to have Cat half-naked - and more - right in front of her. She’ll steal whatever it takes to keep this attention and the promise of Cat dishing out discipline. Or she’ll never touch another thing, if Cat allows Kara to keep touching her instead.
“Impress me,” Cat warns, arching her back as Kara slips her hands around to unfasten the bra. “I expect the best.”
Kara can’t even take the time to acknowledge her nerves. She might not be the most experienced lover, but she’s a black belt in the whims and wishes of Cat Grant. She knows what every half-frown means, understands every tone of approval or displeasure that her voice can make. It can’t be that much harder to divine how she likes to be touched. No, how she likes to be f*cked. That’s what Kara has to give her now.
Her mouth has more purpose now, charting a course down over Cat’s stomach as Kara yanks her pants and underwear off in one fluid movement. As Kara kisses lower, hands clutching at Cat’s ass, it’s the natural progression for Cat to maneuver her legs up and over Kara’s shoulders.
Open, wet, wanting. It’s how Kara’s wanted Cat for longer than she can admit even to herself. There was a vague notion of dragging this out, making it last until Cat issued threats between desperate moans, but Kara already feels her resolving weakening in the face of Cat’s obvious arousal and trademark impatience.
She looks away from perfectly-trimmed curls, from slick and shining pink creases that make Kara’s tongue flicker instinctively even though it still rests behind her teeth. The bare thighs either side of her face are not to be overlooked, and Kara continues her worship of kisses and playful nips, dragging her teeth over one particularly sensitive stretch of skin before biting down more firmly. Cat squirms in front of her, and Kara teases by pulling her just a little closer. Reaching Cat’s center, Kara blows a teasing little rasp of breath across it, smiling at the way Cat twitches in anticipation.
But instead of showing mercy, Kara turns her attention to the other thigh. She sucks and caresses with her tongue in alternating turns, leaving a temporary trail of angry pink marks to prove she’s been here, that it’s all real after all. When she reaches the top once more, she skims her lips with the faintest possible pressure over Cat’s outer lips, opting to place the real pressure in a kiss to her hipbone instead.
And oh, Cat’s sensitive there. She makes a noise between a giggle and a sob that Kara is instantly obsessed with causing again. She trails the very tip of her tongue down that line and waits, mouth hovering directly over Cat’s cl*t. She waits as long as she dares, before whispering her confession.
“This is what I wanted,” she exhales the words against Cat’s trembling body, before pressing her tongue against that gathering wetness, spreading it with a slow and determined lick from the taut edges of Cat’s entrance and landing on her cl*t. Kara receives a gasp in response, one that falls into a moan as she starts to slowly swirl her tongue. Cat’s heel bangs against Kara’s shoulder blade, and her thighs tense where they’re resting on Kara’s shoulders.
Kara traces every idle pattern that occurs to her, pressing harder whenever Cat reacts strongly, retreating every time she gets a little too worked up. When Kara first dares to place her mouth fully over Cat’s cl*t and suck, Kara’s a little stunned by the force with which Cat’s hips roll up into the touch. Having uncovered that, Kara lets one hand relinquish its grip on Cat’s ass and instead guides two fingers inside her while trilling featherlight pressure just above her cl*t to tease.
By the time Kara crooks her fingers, Cat is crashing into her first climax. She yanks at Kara’s hair and God, that hurts in the best way too. Kara breathes through the sharp moment of pain, shifting her weight so her heels press against the tender skin Cat spanked before. Kara pulls her mouth away for a moment, but her fingers keep moving. When Cat starts those sobbing little moans again, this time Kara sucks along with twisting her fingers, and Cat soaks her hand and the sofa cushion with a much stronger org*sm.
“Damn you,” Cat rasps, reaching for a cushion and pulling it over her face. Her voice is muffled by it, but she continues. “You weren’t supposed to be good.”
Kara beams. She ducks her head to hide the smile when Cat moves the cushion away. She’s flushed, breathing hard, but there’s no hint of a smile reaching her eyes. Cat gives her a long, appraising look, and Kara thrums with unspent need. Her thoughts stumble over one another as she tries to decide what she wants Cat to do to her most.
“Kara,” Cat touches her gently now, a stroke of her cheek with a shaking hand. “This isn’t some game, is it?” Looking Cat squarely in the eye, Kara shakes her head. Cat closes her eyes, this time the groan is anything but happy. “I should never have let it get this far. I was weak. You flattered me and-”
“Cat.” All Kara can think of to stem the flow of damaging words is Cat’s name. “Cat, no…”
“Keep the necklace,” Cat orders with a flick of her hand. “It’s a little young for me. Tiffany always feels a little starter marriage these days. I’ll see you in the morning, Keira,” she adds, to Kara’s complete and unexpected dismay.
Kara stands on trembling legs, unclasping the necklace as she does. She lets it drop into Cat’s open palm. That’s never been what this is about.
Despite the continuing throb between her thighs, her fingers that are still damp with Cat’s arousal, Kara finds her balance and accepts her dismissal. She can feel Cat’s eyes on her every step of the way, though. In the relative privacy of the hallway it takes only a split-second to change and melt back into the National City night.
She flies high enough on the way home to freeze even the suggestion of tears.
Monday is, of course, unbearable.
Cat has the limited mercy of making sure Kara is away from her desk at every possible opportunity. Every department head needs a personal reminder about something, and Kara is fairly sure Cat is ordering things online for collection at stores all over National City, just to keep Kara out of her sight. Once, between the trip to Barney’s and the next unnecessary trip to collect some outlandish snack Cat has no intention of actually eating, Kara catches her boss staring at her through the glass wall. Cat doesn’t look away when caught, but tilts her head slightly as though considering some secret only she can see in Kara’s face. The moment shatters with a projected ‘chop chop’ that sends Kara scurrying on her next errand.
By the time she returns from sourcing a out-of-print book that Kara happens to know Cat already has two copies of, Kara is tired and outright cranky. Sure, the trip to a rare bookseller in Chicago had cleared some cobwebs, but she’s ready for the day to be over when she sits heavily on her desk chair, noticing the floor is deserted save for Cat working away beneath the gently flickering screens in her office.
Kara’s feels like hurling the book at Cat’s head without necessarily opening the office doors first. Instead she reaches into her desk drawer for an eraser to remove the penciled price of the book from inside the front cover. The glint of gold catches her eye, even in the low light of the mostly darkened office.
It’s Cat’s favorite gold pen. The diamond-tipped, never out of her possession, cherished pen that she doesn’t ever misplace for more than a few minutes. It was certainly not in Kara’s desk when she last stepped away, and she sure as hell would remember stealing it, after fantasizing about doing that since this whole escapade began.
She pulls the cool metal instrument from the organised chaos of her desk drawer and inspects it more closely. It’s absolutely the one Cat uses to personally sign every firing letter. She refused to sign a contract buying out the media of an entire Eastern European country last fall until that pen was fetched from her purse. It can’t be an accident that it’s in Kara’s desk for the first time.
The door to Cat’s office opens, the woman herself stepping into the gap.
“I have some dictation,” she announces, that enunciation as crisp as ever. Kara gives her a baleful stare, wary of the sudden thaw. “I see you have a pen,” Cat adds. “You might want to find a notepad.”
With a sigh, Kara grabs her trusty Moleskine and trudges into the office after Cat. No doubt this will be her dressing down over last night. Only the feel of the pen clasped in her fist gives her pause. Is it possible Cat’s reconsidering?
Cat sits in her chair, kicking her feet up on the desk. Her heels are long since discarded. Kara thinks sometimes Cat should just skip the pretense and switch to flats. Then she remembers what Cat’s calf muscles look like when walking three feet in front and wearing Louboutins. Kara makes to sit on the couch, but Cat beckons her closer.
Yet again Kara finds herself behind the desk with Cat, standing barely a foot away from her. This time Cat’s legs are practically touching her, angled up to the desk’s surface as they are. It would be very easy to be further apart and still get work done, so Kara allows a little surge of hope to blossom. She turns a page in her notebook, and pops the lid from the pen. Cat watches like a hawk as Kara drops the lid on the desk. Of course, it’s a fountain pen. Kara frowns and adjusts her grip. She’ll have to use it more like a paintbrush to avoid blotting and making a mess.
“Memo,” Cat begins, sounding bored. She intertwines her fingers and places the clasped hands on her stomach. It could be any other evening they’ve worked late, but Kara can see that hungry glint in Cat’s eye. Kara scribbles the four simple letters and underlines them. She looks up, expectant.
“With regards to the events of Sunday evening,” Cat continues, voice steady. “Some revision is required. My initial assessment of the situation was… lacking.”
Kara swallows, audibly. Her improvised shorthand is keeping up, but she has a sneaking suspicion this memo will either be burned or framed and put above her bed.
“In my haste to detangle from a dangerous situation, complicated by the fact of my eldest son and his feelings, my position as an employer, and the media scandal that would ensue from pursuing an arrangement of that kind, I may have acted rashly.”
“Miss Grant-”
“Cat,” she corrects. Which means this is definitely, undeniably personal now. “It is my intention that some ground rules be established to allow for a more mutual solution to the current problem. My plan is as follows…”
Kara tosses the notebook over her shoulder. She grab’s the pen’s lid and replaces it.
“One: apologize,” Cat says, her voice softer than Kara’s heard it in weeks. “Two: make assurances that such rewards will not go unreciprocated in future.” Kara taps Cat’s shin, motioning for her to put her feet on the floor and make space for Kara on the desk. As soon as she does, Kara climbs on. Her white dress rides up her thighs as she sits, and she shrugs off her baby blue cardigan. “Three,” Cat adds. “Remind the affected party that our objectives remain the same. This particularly applies to any romantic notions, kissing, or acknowledgment of the arrangement outside of agreed meetings.”
Like hell is Kara accepting that. She takes the pen and drags the resin containing the small diamond across her lower lip. Cat turns fully towards her then, scooting in her chair so she’s sitting between Kara’s slightly-parted knees.
“I don’t accept,” Kara challenges, tracing the capped pen down over her jawline and the sinew of her throat, tipping her head slightly to elongate it. She taps it against the small part of her collarbone exposed by her neckline. “You see, I like kisses. I like your attention, Cat. I want to be the center of your attention just as often as possible. Don’t you get that?”
“Keira,” Cat warns.
“You know my name,” Kara reprimands, placing the pen against her mouth again. She kisses it, mocking lightly. Then she draws it between her lips and sucks softly on the end. It’s not a subtle message, and the way Cat’s eyelids flutter briefly suggest it’s received loud and clear.
“Kara,” Cat amends. “You’ll like my way well enough. Now why don’t you take off that dress?”
It’s a concession Kara is willing to make. Fewer clothes will only help her make her case. She keeps the pen in her mouth, reaching behind herself to unzip and lower the dress. It’s a risk, even with the hints that Cat has been dropping like anvils, but Kara floats for a second to pull it the rest of the way down. Cat nods in acknowledgment as the dress pools on the floor. A hint of a smile pulls at one corner of her mouth. There’s nothing she enjoys quite so much as being right. Kara resists the urge to roll her eyes.
It definitely feels worth it as Cat drinks in the sight of Kara. It’s right that this is happening in the very office where so much of Kara’s daring has begun to pay off. That daring is weakening now, but Kara takes a deep breath and continues. She draws the blunt end of the pen down over her chest, tracing the outline of her simple white bra. Her nipples are already hard, straining the thin fabric, and Kara circles each one in turn. Cat’s gaze never wanders from exactly where Kara is touching.
“I was going to take this pen from you,” Kara tells her. “How did you know?”
“It’s exactly what I would have gone for,” Cat explains. “It’s the one thing I would notice because it’s the only thing I don’t lose thirty times a day.”
“Well they say admitting you have a problem is the first step,” Kara teases. She squeezes her own breast through the bra, letting the pen trail lower again. She’s skimming the waistband of her panties when Cat leans forward.
“I meant what I said about reciprocating,” Cat offers, laying her hands on Kara’s thighs. Kara pushes them aside easily with the pen, pinching her own nipple and moaning softly at the sensation. A little concentration and the delicious edge of pain creeps back in.
“You know what I want,” Kara challenges. “I won’t be kept at arm’s length. Not when I’m offering to give myself over to you. Completely, Cat. Don’t you want that? Don’t you want that control?”
Cat huffs sharply through her nose. Kara slips the pen beneath cotton, feeling it start to slip as soon as it encounters where she’s wet. Almost in spite of herself, Cat reaches out, running one finger over where Kara’s already soaked through her panties. The gentle pressure makes Kara buck her hips slightly, despite her resolve. That resolve is tested further when Cat tugs the underwear down, and Kara repeats her momentary floating trick to let them be pulled down her legs. She kicks them aside, with an abandon she never thought she’d feel around Cat Grant.
As soon as Kara is on the desk again, Cat repeats the skimming touch with her finger, this time with no barrier. Kara grits her teeth to temper her reaction, then snatches at Cat’s wrist. She guides the hand to her mouth and sucks the slick digit without ever breaking eye contact. “Want a taste?” She asks, releasing Cat’s finger with a pop.
The kiss starts before she can blink, fierce and breathless. Kara feels Cat’s fingers gripping the back of her neck, pulling her hair loose from the bun that’s been gradually unraveling all day.
“Dammit, Kara,” Cat sighs, surrendering the kiss only after pulling at Kara’s bottom lip with her teeth. “You’re going to have to learn to do as you’re told.”
“Please,” Kara pleads. “Make me?”
Cat is definitely muttering f*ck when she kisses Kara for the second time. Still unruffled in her black-and-white shift dress, hair in soft curls, Cat is the picture of composure pressed against Kara. The office might be as private as a fishbowl, but recently Kara’s come to appreciate the more performative aspect of misbehaving in places where anyone could walk in and see. It’s the antidote to half a lifetime spent hiding in plain sight, to having every secret mean life or death. At this stage a sex scandal would practically be a vacation, and perhaps the part of her that gets a little high from crowds and applause is responsible for the thrill at the thought of some random person stumbling across her putting on a show for Cat.
The pen is dropped casually on the desk again, and Kara’s vaguely aware of Cat seizing it with her left hand. Her right has slipped beneath Kara’s bra as they make out, rolling the nipple between two fingers and then pinching it until Kara gasps against Cat’s insistent tongue. Kara detaches from where she’s gripping Cat’s shoulders, reaching behind herself to sweep the few items aligned on the desk’s surface to the floor. The short series of thuds and something shattering is oddly satisfying. Cat pauses long enough to frown, before unfastening Kara’s bra and pushing her down on the now clear space. Her shoulder blades hit first, hard, and Kara smiles as the breath is knocked from her for a moment.
“Don’t move,” Cat warns, as though Kara could possibly want to be anywhere else on this planet or any other. “Mine,” Kara is sure Cat growls as she bends to take Kara’s hard nipple in her mouth, but she’s too lost in the sensation of it to ask Cat to repeat herself. “Yours,” she mutters, and it doesn’t give Cat pause as she alternates licking and sucking until Kara’s breathing is just a rapid flurry of sobbing little sighs.
Cat stands straight again and lifts Kara’s leg, hand pressed against the back of her thigh. She’s forceful in lifting it, pressing it high and straight before letting it rest against Cat’s shoulder. The motion makes Cat feel twice as strong against her, effectively pinning Kara to the desk. It’s then that Kara feels the rounded nub of the pen glide over her center, the touch teasing but enough to make her moan.
“You know why I love this pen?” Cat demands. “Of course you don’t. I bought it the night before I signed the incorporation papers for CatCo. I took a bet on myself, that everything would go well the next morning, that I would finally be queen of all I surveyed. Or all media, at least.”
“It’s your victory pen?” Kara asks. Cat responds by outlining the edge of her entrance with the rounded base, the metal warmed now by all the contact with Kara so far tonight. “Oh f*ck,” she squeals as the pen is pressed ever so slightly inside her. “Cat, please.”
“Were you going to do this until I caved?” Cat’s voice is huskier than ever. “Were you going to tease yourself and spread yourself open for me, all to get what you wanted?”
“I want you,” Kara gasps. “Any way you want to take me.”
“And I want you like this,” Cat responds, pressing a finger in alongside the barrel of the pen, The two competing sensations blend into one gentle movement, and Kara feels her hips rock back against the pressure. Doing this herself she would have worried about the clip on the lid, but Cat clearly has that protected by her palm, and Kara bites her lip as a second finger is added. It stretches, a little, but she’s so wet that a thrust or two is all it takes to feel nothing but the delicious, escalating pressure.
Cat looks down on Kara as she presses the thumb of her other hand against Kara’s cl*t. The arching of her back is involuntary, but Kara barely gets a second to catch her breath before Cat sets a punishing rhythm. As she pulls back from each thrust of pen and fingers, she rubs harder with her thumb, and despite the desperate wish to make it last as long as possible, Kara can already feel her thighs trembling.
She can’t hold out. She can’t withstand how much Cat is making her feel, that proud smirk on her lips as she watches Kara like she’s something stunning, utterly compelling.
“Please?” Kara begs, although she wasn’t told to ask permission. She just knows it won’t be as good without it. “Cat, please.”
“You can come for me, Kara. I’m going to make you come, and you’re going to thank me for it, aren’t you? You’ve been so naughty all week, but now it’s time to be my good girl. Oh, oh.”
Kara stops hearing the words as her entire body convulses. There’s only warm darkness and flashes of lights and the pounding, unending pressure that feels like it could tear her apart. The world is Cat’s fingers, Cat’s voice, the gentle rasp of her dress against the back of Kara’s straining thigh. She doesn’t stop, won’t stop, and Kara can’t find the words to ask her. She doesn’t want it to stop, and the second org*sm is a crescendo that almost knocks her out.
Only when Cat’s fingers (and that pen, oh God, the pen) still can Kara draw another shuddering breath. She’s conscious of how wet her thighs are, that she’s never been drenched like this before. The desk is wet beneath her, and Cat is withdrawing her hand, letting Kara’s leg drop carefully, then falling on Kara to kiss her again without being asked. The kisses are a little disjointed on Kara’s part, but Cat is almost burning with intent.
Kara has just enough dexterity to grab for Cat’s hand. She licks her wet fingers first, taking the pen but not setting it aside. She sucks on each finger in turn, swirling her tongue around the tips and humming happily as she tastes herself on Cat’s skin. Cat is all but lying on top of her, tilting her head to watch Kara clean her up.
When Kara does the same to the slick surface of the gold pen, Cat moans, her eyes closing for a second as she tries to gather herself. “Not fair,” she whispers, but she’s grinning when she opens her eyes. “You were exquisite.”
“You should take that dress off,” Kara suggests, with more bravado than her still limp body should really be throwing around. “We haven’t drawn a crowd, have we?”
Cat casts a lazy glance towards the glass wall. “I had security turn off the elevators on this floor as soon as you got back.”
“Smart.”
“Very,” Cat confirms, immodest as ever. She does get up again, long enough to turn around and order Kara to unzip her dress. Kara stumbles a little as she sits up to comply, but she kisses each inch of skin on Cat’s back as she exposes it. Her bra is a moment’s work to dispose of, and Kara moans on discovering that Cat’s panties are already missing in action. That she retained her stockings and garter belt is just the black lacy stuff of Kara’s most frequent fantasies.
With a shove, Cat turns Kara to be lengthways across the desk, and Kara leans back on her elbows. It eases the pressure on her neck and legs instantly, although the burn in her muscles is still an unfamiliar thrill to Kara. She tries wrapping her legs around Cat’s waist, but Cat is already on the move, kneeling on the desk between Kara’s spread thighs.
She reaches for the damn pen again, and Kara huffs a half-protest.
“Don’t pout,” Cat scolds. “I have every intention of straddling your face and riding that wicked tongue of yours, Kara. But first, when I claim something as mine? I sign my name.”
Kara doesn’t know which part of that to combust over first. She settles for a lazy smile and letting her whole body tingle in anticipation. Cat pulls the cap off with her teeth and considers Kara’s naked form like a blank canvas just awaiting her mark. She runs a testing fingernail over Kara’s hipbone, and it’s every bit as sensitive as Cat’s own, Kara finds out. She’s never dwelled much on touching herself there, and no one else she’s been with has explored her like Cat is doing now.
“Here,” Cat decides, pushing Kara flat against the desk again. The nib of the fountain pen glistens in the lamplight of the office, the ink as slick and black as oil. Kara’s seen Cat’s work signature a million times, condensed by the necessity of how often she has to use it, even as everything is moving to electronic systems. There’s a smudge of ink on Cat’s index finger now, and Kara is caught up for a second in the romantic idea of the newsroom Cat would have started out in, that grand old building in Metropolis that Kara’s visited once or twice.
When she drags the pen into the loop of the dramatic ‘C’ though, Cat is taking her time. She scratches every letter distinctly on Kara’s skin, crossing her t’s with a flourish. The second loop of the ‘G’ almost breaks the skin, but Cat eases up. She wields the pen with the comfort that Kara has with a paintbrush.
“Can we do this every time?” Kara asks as Cat draws the customary diagonal slash beneath her name. “That feels amazing.”
“Every time,” Cat tuts. “Always so greedy.”
“Can you blame me?” Kara hisses, as Cat sets the pen aside and straddles her hips. Slowly she edges her way up Kara’s body, the straps of the garter scraping but the molten wetness between her thighs is like silk. Kara wonders if she smudges the ink as she passes over it, but then Cat is making good on her promise and Kara has more important things to focus on.
Kara runs her fingers over Cat’s signature as she begins to lick in earnest. Cat’s moans are heartfelt and encouraging, and Kara knows exactly how she’s going to tease her this time. And when Cat comes, hard, against Kara’s mouth, she realizes that this time she hasn’t stolen a damn thing. Cat’s giving it to her gladly, and it turns out that’s the biggest thrill of all.
