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The morning had dawned cold and clear, the sunlight slatting prettily through the atrium windows. The lobby had been peaceful a half hour prior, before it had been flooded with Vought employees arriving for their 8am meetings. Now it was a colorful chaos of business suits, briefcases, and frantic Monday morning energy. The cool, clean scent of Fall air was circulated frequently by the revolving front doors, and you were lucky enough to have a front-row stall at the coffee shop just inside of those doors. When the door turned just so, the crisp breeze lifted the tendrils of hair at your temples.
Despite the chaos, this was your happy place. It was easy to zone out and let your hands fly over the instruments in front of you, unthinking. Dump grounds, pack in new ones, twist pressure on the reservoir - Milk in frother, pumps of various syrups, and go again. It was smooth, it was rhythmic, and it was the perfect way to clear your mind.
But today, it wasn't working. There was some vague discomfort somewhere that wasn't letting you zone out, some niggling feeling that you'd forgotten something -
- oh, shit. You'd forgotten to pump before leaving the house.
You glanced down, panicking, but the front of your shirt under your unembellished black barista's apron was still blessedly dry.
Shit. You'd have to tell Amanda, your shift manager, that you were going to need a break before your scheduled lunch. How you were going to manage to pump without your equipment, you had no idea - it might just have to be hand-expression in the bathroom stall. You sighed, closing your eyes. You'd only had to resort to that once before, on a flight when they'd unexpectedly taken your pump and made you check it at security. The act of sitting over the lid of the toilet, pawing at your own breasts to relieve the ache while some impatient old lady had hammered on the door for twenty minutes - God. It had been demeaning, to say the least, and was not an experience you were looking forward to repeating.
But you weren't going to have a choice - the telltale ache that accompanied the heavy sensation of fullness had already started in your left breast.
"Hey, um, Amanda? I'm going to need my lunch break early, around 9:30 if that's okay."
"Yeah, not a problem. You okay?" She quirked an eyebrow at you as she dumped beans into the grinder. You watched the shiny black beans tumble into the reservoir.
"Yeah - breastfeeding life, you know?"
She nodded sympathetically as she cranked on the coffee grinder. Amanda had three children of her own, all grown now, but she got the gist.
"Oooh. Okay, yeah. Take as long as you need, then."
"Thanks." You sighed gratefully, and began anxiously watching the clock on the wall across the atrium.
_________
At 9:27, when two bus loads of schoolchildren arrived for a tour of the tower, you knew you were fucked. As the twenty bedraggled-looking chaperones piled into your line, Amanda glanced at you apologetically.
"Probably gonna have to push that break back, girlie. I'm sorry. You gonna make it?"
"Yes." You grit out, more annoyed with yourself for forgetting your morning pumping ritual than with her. It couldn't be helped, Vought didn't staff more than two baristas due to low demand - when all of your executives had private jets that could fly in an affogato straight from Italy with the gelato still frozen, what was the point of a gourmet coffee shop in the building? Except on days like today, when apparently two - no, three, there were four more busses pulling up now - schools decided that they were so done with trying to wrangle the kids that they would pawn them off on some supes for the day.
You plastered on a smile and started steaming milk for the bleary-eyed teacher's double caramel, two-pump mocha frappuccino. The ache in your chest had turned painful - your breasts felt like overfilled water balloons, ready to pop at the slightest pressure. So when Amanda backed into you a moment later, you hissed out in pain and she spun, already apologizing.
"Sorry, sorry - oh my God, are you leaking?" She whispered.
You lifted your apron surreptitiously and, sure enough, the bland green of your shirt was dampening to a deep forest color over the cup of your left breast.
"Er, yes." You said.
"Shit. Okay, let's get through this busload then you take a break. I am so sorry."
You nodded tersely. It was a peculiar pain, being this full - painful, for sure, skin stretched too-tight over the engorged glands. But beyond that, the barest friction of your bra cups rubbing against your sensitive nipples was - well, nice. You shifted your shoulders to investigate the feeling further - and started a spray of milk inside the cups of your bra. Shiiiiit. You knew if you were to head to the bathroom and take it off now, there would be carnage in the form of milk spraying everywhere.
"Did you want milk with that?" You snapped tersely to the principal who had just rudely demanded a doubleshot, unaware of your impending personal crisis.
"Um...sure." he said, confused. You rolled your eyes surreptitiously and were turning to grab the carton from the bar when your eyes met steel blue ones boring into yours from the far side of the atrium.
It took you a moment to register the iconic figure, but then - Holy shit. Homelander was staring you down from across the atrium.
Normally, this would have been exciting - he was America's darling, not mention hot, it wasn't like you hadn't noticed and whispered and giggled with Amanda many, many times prior. It was just that the way he was looking at you was less "Wow, I want this human to be mine." and more "She just kicked my puppy."
...What was he even doing here, anyway? The supes hardly ever came down from the top floors, unless they were doing photo-ops for field trips - oh, right. Well, that explained his presence, but it didn't explain why he was staring at you with that horrified, helpless look on his face.
And then he was striding over, all determined purpose and fire snapping in his eyes, cape billowing behind him. He shouldered the affronted principal aside, his eyes never leaving yours.
"You. Come with me." And, with a jerk of his head to indicate that yes he meant you and yes, he meant now, he turned and stomped away.
Amanda shrugged at you helplessly, looking terrified. She'd probably never heard him speak in person, either - though apparently she could spare you if he was demanding it. Typical supe privilege bullshit, you fumed as you made to remove your apron, then remembered the milk stains and kept it on.
As you followed his long strides across the atrium, you couldn't say you blamed her - you weren't sure if his normal jovial demeanor was a product of the brand angle they insisted on portraying on TV, but good God was he intimidating up close and in person.
He strode briskly towards the elevators and you followed meekly, unsure of where any of this was going, but knowing that it wasn't worth your $12.25 an hour to question it. So despite the voice in your brain telling you that it was a poor life choice, you followed him into the elevator, which slid closed behind you. He mashed the button marked 99, and your mind began to race.
He finally met your eyes and you could see a helpless fury there. Why that should be so, you had no clue - you'd never spoken to the man before, and you were pretty sure he had had no idea that you existed prior to two minutes ago. Finally, he seemed to steel himself for a moment before saying,
"Let me help you."
It had the tenor of a command, but none of the force, almost as if it were just a normal sentence spoken by a person used to assuming command, and who was unsure of quite how to go about normal conversation.
"Help me?" You asked, at a loss until his gaze flicked down to your chest.
"Oh! Oh, my God, I'm - it's fine, I was just an idiot and forgot to pump this morning, it wasn't Amanda's fault - please don't get her fired, she was trying to let me take a br..."
You trailed off at the sudden uncomfortable look in his eyes. He was refusing to meet your eyes again - why? He looked almost - ashamed? You must have gotten the wrong impression somehow, and he didn't know how to clarify.
"That's not what you meant, is it." You said levelly, while your brain whirled trying to figure out what, exactly, you'd gotten wrong. It seemed so important that you figure this out, and you had no idea why. Five minutes ago you didn't know this man, and now it seemed vital that you decipher what it was that he so clearly needed from you.
Then his gaze flicked back up to meet yours, all guilt and longing writ clear in baleful blue eyes. And as suddenly as if he'd said it aloud, you got it.
"Oh! Oh. You want....?" And you gestured towards your dampening apron. A pinched, pleading look flitted across the hard planes of his face, and sudden understanding clicked in your mind. It was as if a switch was flipped - what he was asking was not a foreign concept to you, not if you were reading his body language correctly. Plenty of guys were into this kind of thing and just refused to admit it.
It had just been so, so long since you'd flexed this muscle that you'd almost forgotten it existed - but if there was anyone you were willing to work it out for, it would be this man. You jammed your thumb into the "Stop car" button, halting the elevator's rise somewhere between the 82nd and 83rd floor.
"Yes, okay. But...rules." You said, voice suddenly confident now that you knew the measure of the game.
He perked up, eyebrows shooting up in surprise.
"You're okay with me...you want me to-"
"You mean, I'm going to let you. If you're good for me." You corrected gently, reaching up to card your fingers through his perfectly coiffed golden hair. He hummed, a suppressed groan that he refused to let go of, as you guided him to his knees in front of you, placing his face level with your rapidly dampening chest. As soon as his knees hit the ground he jolted forward as if to press his face into your wet apron, but you caught him by the chin and held him, head tipped up to meet your gaze.
"Ah, ah, ah. Rules first." You smiled, careful of the prickly pride you could sense behind his driving desperation.
"Okay." He nodded, his voice rough with desire.
"Be careful. I'm not a supe, so - I'm gonna give you what you need, but reign it in. I don't know how you usually do this, or who with, but you could break me. I like life. Got it?"
"Yes." He breathed, reaching to untie your apron, pausing only to glance up at you as if to ask permission. You gave a curt nod and immediately felt his fingers working at the knot around your waist. When he'd loosened it, you slid the garment over your head to revealing twin dark-stained wet blotches on your shirt that extended from your collar bones down to the hem. You heard him stifle a whimper and you brought his head closer, where he rubbed his nose against the damp fabric. Then, as you watched, amazed, his tongue shot out to lap at the dampness.
"Aw, that's no good, sweetheart. Don't do that - that's not what you really want, is it?" You teased, waiting anxiously to see how the nickname landed. This was the most powerful man on Earth - was he going to let you get away with something as trite as "sweetheart"?
He bit back a groan. Apparently he was not only going to let you get away with it - he liked it.
"I want - please, M-" He choked off the word, but you could extrapolate - you had definitely played this game before. You smiled, slow and sure of yourself. How could you not be sure of yourself, with him on his knees for you? Good God, the feeling was all heady power and raw, unquenchable desire.
"Don't worry, I'm going to take care of you. But you've got to stop holding back - I need to hear how much you want it, okay baby?"
"Yes, M-...Yes." He sighed, burrowing his nose into the wet fabric of your cleavage.
"Okay. Let go so I can take my shirt off." You gave him a reassuring smile as you stripped the clammy garment off, leaving only your bra. His hands shot up and you knew he was aching to touch you - so you gently guided his hands to your chest, allowing him to apply gentle pressure. Dear God, that fucking hurt. Your straining breasts felt like they would burst if you didn't do something, and soon.
"Gently - it really hurts." You breathed, feeling the milk gush in response to the contact. It wasn't usually a sensation you associated with arousal, but the heat pooling in you belly told a different story, today. How could it not, with the most powerful man on Earth kneeling before you, all but begging to call you Mommy?
He shuddered, and you gently guided his face between your breasts, where the warm milk was pooling in the join of your bra.
"Please, let me - I want to help." He breathed from between your breasts.
"I know you do. Take it off."
His quick intake of breath was followed by quicker fingers working at the coupling of your bra. It was off in record time, though you wondered if that was an indication of his passion or supe abilities- he could probably look right through your rib cage and see what he was doing, if he wanted to.
He sat back on his heel and looked up at you, pupils blown so wide that only the barest sliver of sky blue ringed the black. You didn't need to wonder why - you could feel the trickle of milk down the undersides of you breasts, and you didn't have to ask to know that you probably looked like his wet dreams incarnate.
You grabbed a handful of his hair, a bit more forcefully that you intended - but hell, you were excited too, and he didn't seem to mind. If anything, you noted, his eyes seemed to glaze over just a little bit more and he became that much more compliant under your hands.
"Now yours." You nodded in the direction of his fly. He didn't hesitate, and you felt the heat in your belly flare. You hadn't been sure - being visibly turned on didn't mean he wanted to do that with you, but the way he was now looking up at you, guileless and desperate with his cock in hand, left little doubt. You thumbed down your underwear and skirt and tossed them into the corner of the car.
"Remember what I said, baby boy. Gentle - at first." He didn't bother to hold back the groan this time, and whether it was due to the pet name or you guiding his face between your legs, you neither knew nor cared. You shuddered when you felt his lips against the apex of your thighs - and as much as you'd have liked to keep him there, hold him between your thighs and grind into his perfect face until he lapped up every bit of you, you knew that this wasn't about what you needed. So, as he licked a stripe over your clit, you moaned but guided his tongue up, up, over your mound, to hip bone, and finally to the trail of milk that had reached the bottom of your ribcage.
Then he whined - and oh God, if you hadn't already been turned on, that would have set you off immediately.
"Clean me up, first. I'm going to give you what you want, but you have to earn it."
His tongue darted out towards the track of liquid that had made its way down your ribs, and he lapped at it. You hummed your approval as he glanced up at you, needing reassurance, as he followed the track up, up along your ribs to the bottom of your breast and finally, finally over the soft, aching mound. He stopped there, looking up into your eyes in mute entreaty.
"Let me take care of you, too." You breathed, and he seemed to know instinctively what you were asking for - he rocked back off of his knees and lay back, half reclined and eyes hooded, waiting on your word. The rush of his obedience was heady, too good. You dropped down to straddle him, directing his cock down and away from your wet center. His hips stuttered at the contact of your fingers closing around him.
"Yes." You whispered, wanting, needing-
He took the nipple in his mouth almost reverently, tongue working along the underside and lips pulling suction in a way that made you squirm from the combination of pleasure and pain.
"Fuck. Yes, you're so perfect, so, so good."
He hummed against you, and you could feel the tingling sensation that accompanied the rush of the milk leaving you, and see the tangible evidence on the other side of your chest as it leaked in tandem with his gulps. You were so full that the stimulation of him on one side was causing the other to flow, dripping down to dampen his suit.
He had squeezed his eyes shut, clearly lost in the moment, but he opened them at your words and his eyes were so unfocused in his pleasure, he looked so thoroughly debauched that had you not known who he was, you'd be unable to pinpoint his identity.
"Look at me." Your words were gentle but the command was clear, and he was more than happy to oblige, glancing up and holding your gaze without so much as missing a swallow. His eyes were glazed over, so wanton, so needy, that you shuddered with desire as you lowered yourself onto him, then moaned aloud as you felt his cock sink deep. His eyes rolled back, and you could feel his groan of pleasure reverberating through your chest.
"You're being so good for me." You whispered, awestruck as you watched him begin to come apart. His breathing between gulps was hitching, small little stutters in whatever minimal composure he had left. You tangled your hand through his hair and pulled gently at the golden strands.
"Not yet. Not until I say." You said, picking up your pace and rocking down into him in pursuit of your own pleasure, watching his brow furrow in concentration as he denied himself his. He was trying so, so hard to please you, but you could tell that he was reaching the limits of his control - so you reached down between your own legs and quickly brought your moans into sync with his.
"Okay, baby boy. You've been so, so good for Mommy - so patient and so good. Now, come for me."
His arms snaked around you, cinching you in and towards his face and sinking you completely onto him as he thrust up. It felt impossibly deep, and the intimacy of him taking his pleasure inside you as he drank from you tipped you over the edge, and you came with a groan. The waves lasted forever - eternal seconds, moments stretching on like the first broad rays of sunshine breaking the horizon. Finally, when you both lay in a still, crumpled heap, you heard his voice rise from between your breasts.
"Thank you."
It was simple, pure, and wholly inadequate for what had just passed between you. You smiled and pressed a kiss down on the top of his head, savoring the moment.