Tension Has a Name

by Sureality

Summary:

Just a made up story within the Supergirl universe—we’ll say Season 2ish.

——————
After a moment of weakness (and one very impulsive folder theft), Kara finds herself entangled in something far more dangerous than a late-night rescue: dinner plans with the one person she can’t lie to forever. Lena doesn’t know Kara is Supergirl. Not officially. Not yet.

But secrets burn, and sparks do too.

Especially when the capes come off.

——————-

Chapter 1: Pretending Looks Good on You

Chapter 1: Pretending Looks Good on You

POV: Lena Luthor (coffee: black, patience: nonexistent, trust issues: monogrammed)

Lena Luthor didn’t believe in fate, but she was fairly certain whatever celestial bastard was in charge had a twisted sense of humor—and an obsession with her personal space.

Case in point: Kara Danvers standing in her office doorway, cheeks pink, blonde hair slightly wind-mussed, holding a folder Lena had most definitely not misplaced.

“I, um, I think you left this at CatCo, during that one briefing…” Kara stepped inside like she wasn’t intruding. Like this was normal. Like Lena wasn’t in the middle of five emails, a budget crisis, and the early stages of a migraine.

There hadn’t been a briefing.

And that file hadn’t left Lena’s office in three days.

She sat back in her chair and raised an eyebrow. “That’s strange. I don’t remember giving you access to those files. Especially not ones flagged confidential.”

Kara winced. “I didn’t read it,” she said quickly. “I mean—I didn’t mean to. It was just there when I—well, I may have tripped—”

“On your own integrity?”

Kara’s face went crimson.

Lena tried very hard not to enjoy it.

She stood and circled her desk slowly. Kara’s eyes followed her, wide and imploring behind those ridiculous glasses, and Lena felt a familiar tension crawl up her spine—the kind that made her almost regret not confronting Kara months ago.

“You’re flushed,” she said lightly. “Everything alright, Miss Danvers?”

Kara straightened like she was trying to remember what her spine was. “It’s just warm today. July. Lots of… you know. Sun.”

Lena didn’t bother hiding her smirk.

She brushed past her on the way to the window, letting her shoulder graze Kara’s as she went. Subtle. Intentional. A pressure point.

Kara sucked in a breath.

Lena let a beat pass. Two. Then, as if remembering a normal human interaction:

“…You’re still doing that piece on clean energy?” she asked without turning around.

Kara blinked, caught off-guard. “Oh—yes. Yeah. I mean, if you’re still okay with the interview? I know things have been hectic lately.”

“Well.” Lena turned back to her with a measured expression. “My week’s clearing up. I could make time Thursday night. After hours. Fewer distractions.”

Kara nodded too fast. “Thursday’s good. Great. I can bring coffee. Or dinner. Or—I don’t know. I could order something and pretend I made it.”

Lena’s mouth curved. “I’d actually like to see what pretending looks like on you.”

“I—uh—what?”

“Dinner’s fine,” Lena said, taking the folder back from her. Her fingers brushed Kara’s. She didn’t flinch. “Kara… try to bring something that is somewhat healthy. You can’t survive on potstickers alone.”

Kara grinned despite herself. “Noted. Whole heartedly disagree, but noted.”

“Close the door on your way out,” Lena said softly.

She turned back toward her desk.

Kara lingered a second longer than necessary.

And Lena pretended not to notice.

Chapter 2: Impulse Control is a Suggestion

Summary:

After making dinner plans under suspicious circumstances, Kara retreats into a full-blown panic spiral… which is promptly interrupted by a chemical explosion across the city. She suits up as Supergirl, trying to outrun her feelings—and maybe a little bit of guilt.

Chapter 2: Impulse Control is a Suggestion

POV: Kara Danvers (blushing, spiraling, airborne)

The elevator doors closed behind her and Kara immediately leaned against the wall, pressing her forehead to the cool metal like it could siphon the heat out of her face.

She didn’t know what had come over her—only that she missed Lena. Badly. One minute she was pacing her apartment, the next she was halfway to L-Corp. She hadn’t planned on actually going inside, but somewhere between the elevator and the door to Lena’s office, panic had taken the wheel. Hence: the impulsive, possibly illegal folder grab to justify her presence. Lena hadn’t bought it for a second.

And now.

Dinner.

With Lena.

Thursday night.

Alone.

She exhaled like she’d just sprinted a mile, which honestly felt less exhausting than making eye contact with Lena Luthor for more than five seconds.

And that shoulder graze—what even was that? Casual? Tactical? A warning? A flirtation?

Maybe all four. Maybe Kara was dying.

She muttered a quiet “Oh my God” and clutched the folder tighter, even though it wasn’t hers and probably contained enough sensitive data to launch a small satellite. Or a war. Hard to say with Lena’s filing system.

She replayed the scene in her head—over and over and over.

Lena’s smirk. Her arched brow. The potstickers comment.
The part where Kara offered to pretend she cooked.
The part where Lena said, “I’d like to see what pretending looks like on you.”

Kara groaned softly. “Who says things like that? Who offers to cater a fake meal for their crush-slash-secret friend while also lying about being an alien?”

She let the elevator carry her down in silence, trying very hard not to picture Lena’s face when she said, “Close the door on your way out.”

The way Kara had wanted to say, Please don’t make me go.

Her phone buzzed just as the elevator dinged open into CatCo’s lobby.

Alex: Chemical explosion. Old town district. Hazmat overwhelmed. DEO on site. We need you.

Kara blinked.

Oh. Good. A literal fire. Maybe it could distract her from the metaphorical one raging under her skin.

She ducked into a side hallway, changed into the suit in under a second, and launched herself skyward.

Wind in her face. Heart still pounding. Dinner plans filed somewhere between terrifying and definitely going to black out during conversation.

Chapter 3: Fault Lines

Summary:

When an explosion rips through L-Corp on the day of their dinner, Kara doesn’t hesitate—Supergirl dives into the flames

Chapter 3: Fault Lines

POV: Kara Danvers / Supergirl

Two days later. Thursday.

Kara had planned to spend the day obsessing over pad thai (she could prove she was more than potstickers) and wine pairings.

Instead, she was flying toward L-Corp with her heart in her throat and smoke rising in the distance.

Alex and the DEO had told her to wait. To stay put, to trust the process, to let them decide when it was safe. But their voices had only made the air feel heavier, choking, like chains clamped around her chest. Lena was out there.

So Kara had ripped the comm from her ear, teeth clenched against Alex’s echo fading into static, and hurled herself forward. If it was reckless, if it was a trap, she didn’t care.

Because no one—Alex, the DEO, the world itself—could’ve made her hesitate.

The explosion had torn through the east wing of the building just after 3 p.m. Fire and chemical signatures. One confirmed injury inside.

One heat signature that hadn’t moved.

Lena.

Wind whipped through Kara’s hair as she accelerated, scanning the structure as she neared. The top floors were still intact—intelligent design, reinforced glass. But the lab wing? Blackened. Flames pouring through a shattered corner. Steel warped like origami.

The third floor was the worst of it.

She didn’t hesitate. She dove through the open breach like a bullet, shielding her face as the wall of heat slammed into her.

Smoke bit into her throat—not enough to choke her, but enough to know Lena didn’t have long.

“Lena!” she called, eyes scanning—thermal, x-ray, heartbeat.

A weak cough answered.

Kara turned toward the far end of the room—collapsed beams, overturned metal, glass shattered across the floor. And there she was: half-pinned beneath twisted scaffolding, one leg bloodied, blazer shredded.

It was probably the first time she’d ever seen Lena look truly scared.

“Supergirl,” Lena said, voice rough but controlled. “A little dramatic, don’t you think?”

Kara was beside her in seconds, dropping to her knees. “You’re hurt.”

“It’s superficial,” Lena said through clenched teeth, obviously in pain. “Though I think I may have lost a shoe and most of my patience.”

“Your leg’s bleeding,” Kara said, already shifting rubble away. “And your sarcasm levels are worryingly normal.”

Lena gave her a sharp smile. “Call it coping.”

The beam creaked as Kara lifted it—slow, steady. Lena winced and let out a small cry that Kara felt in her bones. The moment it was clear, Kara didn’t wait. She slipped an arm behind her shoulders, another beneath her knees.

“Rescuing me again?” Lena asked, arching a brow. “People will start to talk.”

“Let them.”

The words were out before Kara could stop them.

Lena blinked—but said nothing.

Kara flew them out just as the firewall in the adjacent lab gave way. Heat flared, licking at her cape, but she didn’t flinch. Her grip on Lena only tightened.

⸻

Outside, sirens and shouts blurred into white noise. Kara landed near the on-site med tent, setting Lena gently on a stretcher as medics rushed in.

“Laceration to the leg,” she said. “No sign of head trauma. Inhaled some smoke, but she was conscious the whole time.”

Lena tilted her head, eyes flicking up toward her. “Dinner’s still on.”

Kara blinked. “Dinner?”

Lena’s lips twitched. “Hmm. Maybe I have you confused with someone else.”

Kara forced a smile—light, easy, painfully rehearsed. “Happens more than you’d think.”

Then she was airborne again, cape snapping behind her, the echo of Lena’s smile haunting her all the way to the clouds

Chapter 4: Stay

Chapter 4: Stay

POV: Kara Danvers

Kara stood outside Lena’s penthouse door holding two paper bags, a bottle of wine she was ninety percent sure Lena would scoff at, and a heart rate that needed its own flight plan.

She knocked once, then again—because the first one sounded way too polite for someone invited to dinner and emotionally spiraling.

From inside: “It’s unlocked!”

Kara hesitated. “That’s not safe.”

Lena’s voice carried back—cool and dry. “My building has more security than the White House. I’m fine.”

She opened the door anyway, stepping into the warm, quiet hum of Lena’s home. It smelled faintly like cedar and something crisp—linen, maybe, or wealth in sprayable form. Every line of the space was sharp and intentional. Like its owner.

Lena was sprawled across the long leather sectional, one leg stretched out, propped up on a pillow. Her hair was pulled into a loose twist that should’ve looked messy, but somehow didn’t. She wore black pajama shorts and a thin, sleeveless top, collarbones on unapologetic display.

And Kara’s brain just…short-circuited.

It wasn’t fair—how Lena could look like that, even bandaged and barefoot and half-casual. Like the universe was playing a joke Kara didn’t remember signing up for.

“Hey,” Kara said softly, holding up the bags. “I brought Thai. And wine. Don’t judge the label.”

“I’ll judge it silently,” Lena replied, eyes narrowing as she shifted to sit up straighter—and immediately winced.

Kara rushed forward, hovering without touching her. “Wait, don’t—are you okay?”

“Fine,” Lena muttered, teeth gritted. “Apparently I overestimated how easy sitting upright would be.”

Kara frowned. “Do you… do you have anyone staying with you? Helping out?”

Lena blinked. “Like a butler?”

“No, like… a person.”

“No,” Lena said flatly.

Kara set the bags down and knelt beside her. “Okay. Then I’m staying.”

“Shouldn’t you at least buy me dinner before inviting yourself to spend the night?” Lena said dryly.

“I did buy you dinner,” Kara said, a little too fast.

Lena slowly raised a single eyebrow.

Kara stumbled, “That’s not what I—” Her voice hitched. “I mean, not like—like that. I just mean, you shouldn’t be alone.”

“Sure,” Lena said, smirking now. “Completely selfless. Nothing to do with how red your ears just got.”

Kara opened her mouth. Closed it. Considered teleportation as an exit strategy.

“You’re impossible,” she muttered.

“And you’re staying,” Lena said, smug and exhausted. “But only if you agree to one thing.”

Kara looked up at her. “What?”

Lena’s gaze sharpened. Less playful now. “You tell me the truth.”

Kara’s stomach dropped.

Lena tilted her head, voice lower now. “It was you, wasn’t it?”

Kara didn’t answer.

“I want to hear you say it,” Lena whispered. “I want you to admit you were the one who pulled me out of that fire.”

Chapter 5: Rescued and Rewarded

Summary:

Secrets come out. Tension builds. There’s wine, proximity, and one bed too many for either of them to keep pretending.

POV: Kara Danvers (cape off, heart on fire, completely doomed)

Kara’s breath caught in her throat. Lena’s whisper hung in the air like smoke.

“I want you to admit you were the one who pulled me out of that fire.”

Kara froze. No excuses left. No exit strategy.

Just Lena—softly lit, wine glass balanced against her thigh, hair messily perfect, gaze sharp enough to draw blood. Her voice hadn’t risen. She didn’t sound angry. But that was the worst part.

It wasn’t rage. It was quiet. Patient. Inevitable.

Kara sat on the edge of the couch across from her, close but not touching, hands twisting nervously in her lap.

“It was me,” she said quietly. “I was the one who got you out.”

Lena didn’t blink.

Kara swallowed hard. “I’m Supergirl.”

There. Said. Done. The truth unzipped and laid bare on the expensive carpet between them.

Lena leaned back slowly, lips parted in something that wasn’t quite surprise. “You… really suck at hiding it, you know.”

“What?”

“Glasses, Kara.”

“I—”

“Come on.”

Kara groaned, burying her face in her hands. “I thought I was being subtle.”

Lena sipped her wine. “Nothing says secret identity like ‘clearly the same face.’”

That pulled a helpless laugh from Kara’s throat.

Lena watched her for a moment longer, then said, softer this time, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I wanted to,” Kara admitted. “So many times. But I was scared. You’re… you’re important to me. More than you know. And I didn’t want to lose what we had.”

Lena’s expression flickered—hurt, maybe, or something like it—but she didn’t look away.

“I was angry,” she said. “For a long time, I thought you didn’t trust me. That maybe I didn’t matter as much to you.”

“You do,” Kara said quickly. “God, you do. It wasn’t about trust. It was about—risk. And selfishness. I wanted you close, and I didn’t want to shatter that by dropping the cape into the middle of everything.”

The silence between them tightened. Electric.

Finally, Lena said, “So. What now?”

Kara blinked. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, how do I thank the woman who saved my life?” Lena’s voice dipped low. Velvet wrapped in suggestion. “A handwritten card seems a little underwhelming, don’t you think?”

Kara’s heart stopped. Or flipped. Or exploded.

“I—uh. No thanks needed,” she said, very quickly, very awkwardly. “You’d do the same for me.”

Lena tilted her head. “Would I?”

Kara swallowed. “You… wouldn’t?”

“Oh, I absolutely would,” Lena said, slow and deliberate. “But I wouldn’t turn down a reward, either.”

Kara’s brain short-circuited. She opened her mouth. Nothing useful emerged. Just static and the faint sound of her own libido detonating.

Their eyes met—and this time neither of them looked away.

The air between them pulsed, slow and thick, like the moment before lightning strikes. Kara felt it down to her bones, that hot, weightless thing that lived between fear and want.

Lena’s voice was barely audible. “Please.”

Their lips were a breath apart—close enough to taste wine and want—and Kara swore the world stopped turning.

And then Lena’s phone rang.

The sharp, clinical ringtone cut through the silence like a scalpel. They both froze, noses nearly touching.

Lena exhaled slowly. “Of course.”

Kara drew back an inch, jaw tight with restraint, her hands fisted at her sides.

Lena fished her phone from the cushion with an annoyed sigh. “Luthor.”

Kara watched her—watched the exhaustion settle across her shoulders the moment she sat forward. Watched the micro-wince she tried to hide as her stitches pulled. Lena’s tone was composed, cool as ever. But Kara saw through it.

The call dragged on—something about the explosion, a detective needing clarification on her lab access protocols.

As soon as it ended, Lena stood. Or tried to.

“Whoa,” Kara said, moving fast as Lena staggered slightly.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not.”

“I said—”

Kara didn’t let her finish. She stepped in and swept Lena into her arms like it was nothing. Lena let out a sharp breath—not from pain, but surprise.

“Kara—”

“Just let me.”

Lena didn’t argue. Her head rested against Kara’s shoulder, warm and quiet and trembling just slightly. Kara carried her down the hall like she weighed nothing. Like she was something precious.

When they reached the bed, Kara laid her down gently, pulled the blanket over her legs.

For a moment, Lena didn’t speak.

Then, softly: “Stay?”

Kara sat on the edge of the bed. “I told you I’m staying.”

“No.” Lena’s hand found hers, fingers curling tight—and Kara swore the skin beneath her palm burned. Not from heat. From need. From something that had been waiting too long to be named. “Here. With me.”

Kara blinked. “Lena…”

“I’m not scared of much,” Lena whispered. “But I’m scared tonight.”

The words hit like a gut punch. Kara looked at her—really looked. Past the elegance, past the wit and the walls. All she saw was a woman barely holding herself together. Who had nearly died. Who had spent the last two days alone.

Kara kicked off her shoes, slid under the blanket beside her, and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

“I’m here,” she said, voice fierce and quiet. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Lena closed her eyes.

And for the first time in too long, she let herself rest.

Chapter 6: Flashpoint

Notes:

Uhhh here we go? I’m still figuring out this writing thing, hope you like it.

Chapter 6: Flashpoint

POV: Lena Luthor (restless limbs, old ghosts, inconvenient proximity)

The nightmare broke like a wave.

Lena shot upright in bed, sweat slick down her spine, breath ragged, a scream lodged somewhere deep in her chest where it couldn’t escape. Her heart was pounding like it wanted out of her body. Cold air. Familiar ceiling. Real mattress. Not the manor. Not the marble hallway. Not the voice in her ear saying she’d always been a disappointment.

Just Kara.

Lying next to her.

Soft breathing. Warm presence.

Lena didn’t realize she’d made a sound until Kara stirred beside her.

“You okay?” Kara asked, already awake, voice hushed and full of that unbearable gentleness that made Lena feel like her skin didn’t quite fit.

“Bad dream,” Lena said, staring ahead, not looking at her. “Old ghost story. I don’t want to talk about it.”

Kara nodded once. “Okay.”

No pressure. No follow-up. Just quiet… and her.

Lena closed her eyes for a moment, letting her chest rise and fall. The tremor in her hands hadn’t stopped.

“I usually wake up alone,” she said. “And when I don’t—it’s because someone needs something from me.”

Kara stayed quiet.

Lena finally turned to her. “You’re the first person who’s made me feel safer when I open my eyes.”

Kara’s throat worked, her brows pulling together.

She didn’t say anything—but she didn’t need to. She was here. That was already more than Lena was used to.

She shifted closer.

Kara mirrored the movement instinctively, eyes tracking her like she was something fragile and magnetic all at once.

Their knees brushed.

Kara didn’t pull back.

Lena’s voice dipped low. “I meant what I said earlier.”

Kara blinked. “About what?”

“I’m going to thank you now.”

The air changed.

The space between them contracted. Grew electric.

There was no ringing phone this time. No excuse to pull back. No rescue to interrupt them.

Kara sat there like she’d forgotten how to move. “Lena, you don’t—”

But Lena had already closed the space, her hand cradling Kara’s jaw with practiced confidence, fingers warm against flushed skin.

The tension hit them like a head-on collision.

Their lips crashed together—urgent, uncoordinated, real. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t planned. It was need, wrapped in heat and the kind of emotional recklessness Lena had spent her whole life suppressing.

Kara gasped softly into her mouth.

That was all it took.

The kiss deepened with a force neither of them could stop—Lena tilting her head, Kara’s hands moving before she could think better of it. One cupped the back of Lena’s neck, the other gripped tight at her waist like she didn’t trust herself to let go.

They shifted—carefully, instinctively. Kara adjusted her hold, mindful of Lena’s leg. The bandages. The stitches. She didn’t want to hurt her, even as Lena practically dragged her closer.

Their bodies aligned, heat pressed to heat.

Kara moaned—quiet, surprised—and Lena devoured the sound like it was the first honest thing she’d heard in years.

The press of Kara’s mouth was soft but frantic, her lips parted just enough for Lena to taste her—wine and want and something maddeningly sweet underneath. Kara let her in with a breathy exhale, and Lena swore the earth tilted.

She deepened the kiss—tongue brushing against Kara’s, drawing out another desperate noise that made Lena’s blood thrum.

Kara’s grip on her hips tightened as Lena moved—slow, grinding, deliberate.

She slid forward until she was straddling Kara, careful but sure, thighs bracketing Kara’s waist. The pressure, the closeness—it burned like a live wire.

Kara broke the kiss just long enough to whisper, “Are you okay? Your leg—”

Lena panted, eyes dark, voice deceptively light.
“Darling, if you say one more word, I’ll have to find a better use for your mouth.”

Kara blinked—Her mouth opened, then closed again, a soft sound catching in her throat like her body couldn’t decide between blushing or combusting.

Then she made a helpless little noise.

And Lena kissed it right off her mouth.

They kissed like they were drowning, like every second apart had been a mistake, like all the tension between them had finally snapped. And maybe it had.

Lena nipped Kara’s bottom lip—gentle, then firm—before soothing it with her tongue. Kara responded with a sound that might have been Lena’s new favorite thing in the entire universe.

She tasted like wine and heat and everything Lena wasn’t allowed to want.

And now? She wanted it all.

Lena’s hands slid under Kara’s shirt—just skin, just contact—enough to ground her, to burn her palms on Kara’s warmth.

Kara made a sound low in her throat and pulled Lena tighter, like they could fix the ache in each other with friction alone.

They only pulled apart when oxygen became non-negotiable.

Lena didn’t move far.

She kept one hand on Kara’s jaw, the other clutching the back of her shirt like she couldn’t quite let go.

Kara’s eyes were wide, lips parted, chest rising and falling like she’d just flown across the city.

“I…” Kara started, but the words died on her tongue.

Lena leaned in again, softer this time—just a brush of lips. An exhale. A tether.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Lena murmured. “Not tonight.”

Kara nodded, forehead pressed to hers.

They sat like that for a long time.

No masks.

No lies.

Just heat and breaths and pounding hearts.

Chapter 7: Finally

Notes:

Im so sorry I didn’t update in so long! Life got in the way 🙃 I tried to make up for it with this chptr. Uhhh hope you enjoy 🫣

Kara’s forehead was still pressed to hers, breath ragged, lips swollen from the kiss neither of them seemed capable of forgetting.

Lena should’ve stopped. She knew she should’ve pulled back, let them breathe, let them sort through the mess of what they’d just crossed into. But all she could taste was Kara. All she could feel was Kara’s pulse hammering beneath her fingertips.

Years of restraint, of glances swallowed, of words choked down—every second of it collapsed in on itself.

She dragged her thumb across Kara’s bottom lip, slow, deliberate. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted this?”

Kara’s breath hitched, her pupils blown wide. “Lena…”

The sound of her name in that voice, wrecked and wanting, nearly undid her.

She kissed her again—harder, hungrier—pouring every unspoken thing into it. Kara met her with equal force this time, no hesitation, no retreat. She tasted like desperation and sunlight, like something Lena had convinced herself she could never touch.

Kara’s hands roamed—tentative at first, then surer. One slid up her spine, splaying warm and possessive against bare skin, the other anchoring her hip, urging her closer. Lena gasped against her mouth, the sound half-plea, half-challenge.

She shifted, thighs tightening around Kara’s waist, pressing down with a slow roll of her hips that drew a strangled moan from Kara’s throat. The vibration of it shot straight through Lena’s body, molten and unstoppable.

“You’re going to kill me,” Kara whispered, forehead pressed to Lena’s temple like she couldn’t stand the distance of even a breath.

Lena smiled—sharp, dangerous. “Darling, that’s the last thing I want.” She ground against her again, savoring the helpless sound it tore from Kara’s chest. “But I am going to ruin you.”

Kara’s answering groan was nothing short of reverent. Her grip tightened, her restraint fraying with every beat. “Lena, I—God, I can’t—”

“Then don’t,” Lena cut in, voice husky, mouth grazing Kara’s ear. “Don’t think. Don’t stop. Just want me.”

Kara kissed like she was trying to memorize her, like every second was a lifeline. Lena could feel the strength barely leashed in her grip, the way her hands trembled against her skin like she was terrified of breaking something sacred.

It made Lena wild.

She tangled her fingers in Kara’s hair, tugging just hard enough to drag a soft gasp from her throat. “Don’t hold back on me,” Lena whispered against her mouth, voice breaking into something raw. “Not with me.”

The words cracked something open.

Kara’s restraint snapped, and suddenly her hands were everywhere—skimming Lena’s sides, sliding under her shirt, calloused palms hot against bare skin. Lena arched into it, shuddering, her breath catching as Kara’s thumbs traced reverent circles over her ribs.

She wanted more. Needed more.

Lena shifted, rolling her hips against Kara’s with shameless precision, swallowing the broken moan that tore out of her in response. The sound was devastating—pure, unguarded Kara, and Lena devoured it like she’d been starving.

Kara pulled Lena tighter, pressing their bodies flush. The friction was exquisite—heat building, sharp and relentless.

Lena slid a hand lower, fingers sneaking beneath the waistband of Kara’s pajama pants, teasing over the line of muscle, not yet where Kara clearly needed her. Kara bucked into her touch with a strangled cry, forehead dropping to Lena’s shoulder like she couldn’t take it.

“Please,” Kara whispered, the word barely audible, wrecked.

It undid her.

Lena tilted Kara’s face up, forcing her to meet her gaze. Wide eyes, pupils blown, lips kiss-bruised. Vulnerable. Wanting. Hers.

“You don’t have to beg,” Lena murmured, brushing her mouth over Kara’s again. “But God, I love when you do.”

Her hand slid lower, finally giving Kara what she’d been silently pleading for. The sharp intake of breath, the way Kara’s body jolted against her, nearly set Lena on fire.

Kara buried her face in Lena’s shoulder, but Lena caught her chin, forced her to look at her.

 

“No hiding,” Lena whispered, voice low and fierce. “I want to see you.”

Kara’s eyes fluttered open—blown wide, pupils drowning the blue, cheeks flushed pink. Vulnerable. Devoted. On the edge.

Lena stroked her slowly at first, savoring the way Kara shuddered beneath her, the way her grip on Lena’s shirt went white-knuckled. The slick heat of her, the rhythm of her body desperate to be met—it lit Lena’s nerves on fire.

Kara’s breath broke into little pleas she couldn’t seem to stop, the sound of Lena’s name in that raw, breathless tone nearly undoing her.

“Please—Lena—”

Lena kissed her hard, swallowing the sound, her tongue sliding against Kara’s as her fingers worked with ruthless precision. Every flick, every curl was deliberate, calculated to pull those beautiful wrecked noises from Kara’s throat.

Kara writhed beneath her, hips jerking, body trembling. She was so strong—Lena knew it better than anyone—but here, in this moment, she was undone. All that power melted into need, into desperate clutching and breathless moans.

“You’re gorgeous like this,” Lena murmured against her lips, voice rough, unsteady with her own arousal. “Falling apart for me.”

Kara whimpered, nails digging into Lena’s back as she moved with her, chasing the pressure, the release just out of reach.

Lena quickened her pace, angled her wrist just so—and Kara shattered.

Her body tensed, head thrown back, a strangled cry torn free. The sound of it hit Lena like lightning, molten and unstoppable. Kara convulsed against her, breathless, wild, holding on like she’d drown without her.

Lena didn’t stop—drawing it out, milking every tremor, every broken moan until Kara collapsed against her, boneless and shaking.

For a moment, all Lena could do was hold her—feel Kara’s heartbeat hammering against her chest, feel the heat of her skin, taste the salt of sweat and the sweetness of her mouth.

Kara was still trembling when she whispered, voice hoarse, “I’ve wanted you for so long.”

Lena kissed the words off her lips, softer this time, reverent, though her own body was aching, throbbing with need. She shifted, sliding Kara’s hand down between them, guiding it to where she was burning.

“Then show me,” Lena whispered, gaze locked on hers. “Show me you’ve wanted me too.”

Kara’s hand hesitated only a moment where Lena had guided it—fingers brushing heat, tentative, trembling. Then something changed. The hesitation sharpened into focus.

Her touch was softer than Lena expected—achingly soft, like she thought Lena might vanish if she pressed too hard.

“Kara…” Lena gasped, hips jerking despite herself, the sound torn between plea and warning. She wasn’t used to this—to being handled like glass, like she was precious instead of dangerous.

Kara’s lips brushed her jaw, her cheek, her mouth between every breath. “Tell me if it’s too much,” she whispered. “Tell me if I hurt you.”

Lena almost laughed—sharp, disbelieving. “Darling, the only thing you’re hurting is my patience.”

But then Kara pressed her fingers more firmly, a slow, steady stroke that had Lena’s breath stalling in her chest, her retort dissolving into a low, broken moan.

Kara’s expression shifted—awed, undone by the sound, as if she hadn’t believed she could pull it from her. Her thumb brushed lazy circles against Lena’s hip, grounding her, while her other hand learned every contour, every tremor with reverent patience.

Lena dug her nails into Kara’s shoulders, hips rolling helplessly into the rhythm. She wanted harder, faster, rougher—but God, the gentleness was wrecking her. Each soft touch stripped her down in a way nothing brutal ever could.

Kara kissed her through it, lips moving against hers, quiet, reverent noises swallowed between them.

“You’re beautiful,” Kara murmured, so soft Lena almost missed it between gasps. “God, Lena, you’re…” Her voice broke off, lost to the sound of Lena’s breath catching as her fingers curled just right.

Lena’s head fell back, eyes squeezing shut. She was coming undone, every wall crumbling beneath the tender persistence of Kara’s touch.

“Look at me,” Kara whispered.

And Lena did. She forced her eyes open, meeting Kara’s gaze—blue eyes dark and earnest, mouth swollen, expression undone with devotion.

The intimacy of it undid her. The way Kara touched her—not like she was a conquest, not like she was a danger to be tamed, but like she was a miracle—sent her over the edge.

Lena came with a shuddering cry, her body tightening around Kara’s fingers, her nails biting into warm skin. Kara held her through it, murmuring her name like a prayer, kissing every broken sound off her lips until she collapsed, trembling and breathless against her.

For a long moment, there was only the sound of their breathing, the heat of skin against skin, the weight of everything they’d just given and taken.

Lena’s voice was rough, unsteady, but her smirk managed to surface anyway. “You’re dangerous when you’re gentle.”

Kara laughed softly, forehead pressed to hers, eyes still wide with awe. “And you’re perfect when you fall apart.”

Lena had no idea how she was supposed to survive this—this tenderness, this hunger, this unbearable, impossible Kara. But God, she wanted to try.

Notes:

This is my first try at actually posting a story.

Feedback is welcome! Thank you!!!!!