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Sam paced across the living room, crop top lifting just enough with every stride to flash toned abs beneath the low glow of the recessed ceiling lights. Her black trousers hung loose on her hips, barefoot steps silent across the hardwood, the phone pressed against her ear by a folded arm. She wasn’t even pretending to mask the scowl twitching at the edge of her jaw. “You’re kidding me, Lena. You’re actually… you’re doing this?”
On the other end, Lena's voice pleaded through the speaker, "Sam, it’s just for tonight. I swear. One night, that’s all."
Sam stopped dead in front of the window, arms still folded tight under her chest, eyes narrowing into the darkness outside like she could somehow vent the rising pressure in her lungs through sheer glare. "One night with your secret boy toy under my roof? Really?" She leaned her head back just slightly, eyes drifting just far enough past the kitchen entrance to spot him.
Revanth had taken the stool at the kitchen counter with that same easy confidence that irritated the hell out of her. Still flashing that college-boy grin, already acting like Sam’s house was some half-boring detour. Her hand came up to rub the side of her neck, bone-deep tired of this already.
"This is absurd," she breathed under her breath. Watching over Lena Luthor's secret side project while Kara was still... Christ.
Sam remembered exactly how it happened. Lena had met him at that L-Corp Expo last fall. Sam had been there too, Ruby dragging her across the biotech floor, all glitter and polished chrome and staged innovation. Lena had veered off on her own, and hours later, she remembered circling back to the drone booth and catching Lena in a shadowed alcove, blouse undone, heels dug into the carpet while that college kid gripped her like it was some dorm room quickie. Sam still didn’t understand how it even started—Lena Luthor, married to Kara Danvers, Supergirl, strongest being on the planet—sliding into something this reckless with someone so disposable. She wasn’t the type to endorse cheating, not even with strangers, but this was Lena. And Lena was family. Like a sister. So Sam hadn’t said a damn thing.
It was supposed to be Lena’s night, not Sam’s. He’d come in from National City, already expecting Lena to meet him, and for a minute, Sam had believed she might actually follow through and handle her own damn business. But then Kara showed up at Luthor Tower with that clueless smile and a bag of dumplings, and Lena caved before even pretending to juggle. Maybe it was too late to send him packing without someone catching on, or throw him at a hotel without some paparazzo catching wind, or maybe Lena just figured Sam’s couch was quieter than explaining to security why her boytoy was wandering Luthor Tower past midnight. Either way, Sam didn’t get so much as a warning before the whole thing landed in her lap. Lena passed the buck like it was routine and she just texted him Sam’s address like it was a hotel drop-off, like Sam had nothing better to do than babysit a walking scandal Lena couldn’t fit into her double life.
She let out a sigh that dragged through her ribs and flared in her nose, and rubbed the side of her neck. "Fine. But if Alex and Ruby come back early, I'm kicking his ass out, I don’t care what kind of excuse I have to come up with."
"I’ll make sure they stay after game night," Lena promised fast. Sam could almost see her pacing too, smoothing hair back, probably chewing on the edge of her thumbnail. That nervous flutter always kicked in when she was doing something she knew she'd regret.
Sam smirked and shook her head, huffing. "You better, Luthor. I swear, you pick the worst goddamn times."
"Lee?" Kara’s voice came through faint on the line, close enough to hear without straining. Lena made a small noise and said, "I have to go. Thank you. I’ll make it up to you, I promise."
"You better make it up to me," Sam bit back, the corner of her lip curling in a smirk she didn’t bother to hide. She ended the call before she had to hear Lena scramble for another excuse, thumb tapping the screen before tossing the phone onto the couch. It landed face-down against the throw pillow. Her hand came up to cover her face, dragging across her brow and mouth, pausing at her chin.
She was supposed to have the place to herself tonight. Game night at Lena’s meant Alex and Ruby would be happily occupied for hours, and Sam had planned to scroll until her brain shut off and finally crack open the six-pack Alex had been saving for her. Instead, Lena had spun it around and shoved Revanth into her living room.
“Screw you, Lena,” she said with a dry breath, brushing her palm down her thigh as she got up and crossed into the kitchen, done wasting the only night she had to herself. Revanth was already at ease, back leaned into the stool, glass in hand, ice catching light as he swirled the whiskey once before sipping. He barely shifted when she came in, just let that smug smirk stretch wider like he’d been waiting for her to join the show.
"Comfortable?" Sam asked, leaning both palms to the counter, arms bracing her frame as she looked him over. She sounded like someone who wanted to strangle him but might still pour his drink after.
Revanth let his eyes sweep her slow, too familiar for someone who'd only just been dropped into her night. "Would be more comfortable if you joined me."
Sam rolled her eyes with a smirk that didn’t bother pretending to be impressed. "Don’t test your luck, I’m not in the mood to babysit a zipper-happy undergrad."
She pushed off the counter and stepped around the edge, reaching past him toward the cabinet above the sink. She was halfway into the pivot when the side of her foot caught the leg of the tucked-in chair. She yelped sharp, one hand flying down to grab her toe, mouth already halfway into a curse.
She didn’t even get a full breath in before Revanth was already in front of her, down on one knee like her stubbed toe was a national emergency. “Oh my god—are you okay?” he asked, his fingers wrapping around her foot before she could say no, face tilted up like he was genuinely about to call in a med team.
Sam let out a short laugh, eyes narrowing as she shifted back on one heel. “Didn’t know Lena sent me a nurse.” But before she could wave him off, his hands were on her ankle, lifting her foot before she had time to stop him.
“Let me help,” he said, cutting her off.
“What the hell—Revanth, are you—” Her words caught mid-breath as his mouth wrapped around her toe, warm and too sudden to process.
Her mouth opened, probably to tell him to knock it off, but the words got stuck when his tongue swept beneath her toe. Her eyebrows shot up, hand catching the edge of the counter as a breath tore loose through her nose. “Okay—” she exhaled again, lips parting like the breath caught wrong, “okay.”
Sam leaned her head back just a notch, breath shuddering through her before she caught it. Revanth’s tongue circled slow around her toe, drawn-out enough her toes curled. Her cock stiffened thick inside her trousers, the fabric straining tight across the swollen length as it twitched against the seam. The second his mouth let go, a full shudder ran through her, lips pressed like she could hold the breath down, eyes half-lidded, hand still gripping the counter like she’d been leaning into something heavier.
“Want me to take care of that?” The words knocked right through the moment, and Sam’s head tipped down before she even realized it. Her face pulled into a frown as she glanced at him, catching the spark in his eyes, only to have his gaze drop to the thick line of her cock pressing against her trousers. The look he gave her when his gaze came back up was nothing short of smug. Sam’s mouth opened, no words behind it, her lungs dragged tight while her body froze. Something in her head was yelling—say something—but all she managed was another half-breath and that same stalled glance.
She hadn’t said a damn thing, and somehow that counted as permission in his book. Sam lowered her foot just as Revanth’s fingers found the waist of her trousers and dragged them down, like he was handling a distraction, fabric bunching at her thighs. Her cock surged forward, thick shaft bobbing free of the press, a smear of precum already catching the air. She made a sound, half-step toward stopping him, but her breath vanished as his hand wrapped tight around her length. “Rev—don’t—” spilled half-formed before his thumb caught the twitching tip, pressing into the swollen ridge of her cockhead, and her knuckles whitened where they gripped the edge of the counter.
Her mouth opened around a protest that didn’t form, breath snagged in her throat as his lips hovered just above the swollen ridge, a feather-like graze that made her cock jerk in his hand. "Revanth—" she started, but her voice faltered when his breath ghosted down her cock, warm across the underside, her hips twitching before she could stop it. She meant to say something, maybe curse him out, maybe shove him back, but her lips parted in a silent gasp, her eyes clamped shut the moment his lips parted and sealed over the swollen ridge of her cockhead, his mouth sealed over her crown and dragged the sound right out of her.
The swollen head disappeared past his lips, pull blooming tight around her crown while his tongue pressed flat to the underside. Her fingers clawed at the counter behind her, nails dragging the wood. "Fuck," she breathed, the sound catching at the top of her throat. The breath of his mouth sealed around her tip, tongue curling slow to lap at the precum smeared over her slit, and her chest dragged in a breath that never quite left. The first inch vanished between his lips like nothing, the stretch of her shaft disappearing as his cheeks hollowed around her.
Revanth’s hand stroked the base of her cock in pace with his mouth descending, lips dragging past the thickest ridge until she felt his tongue swirl just below. Her knees pressed in toward each other without thinking, thighs tensing where her trousers were caught at her knees. His other hand cupped her sac, cradling the weight as his thumb digging just enough to press into the curve of her balls. She didn’t mean to buck, but the jolt went through her spine anyway.
His mouth worked lower, more of her cock swallowed inch by inch, his lips stretching to fit her girth. Her shaft twitched again, flushed and straining past the pull of his mouth, the build mounting with every suck. He tongued her from base to tip, licking a path along the full underside, tasting every ridge, flicking under her crown when he rose back up before sinking again. She could feel the coated pull tighten at the midpoint, his throat clenching once, then twice, and a harsh groan tore loose from her.
The angle of his jaw shifted when he took more, and for a second, the sensation knocked her heart into her ribs. She wanted to fold it into muscle memory, trick her brain into picturing Alex, but the way this built didn’t match, not that warm build she’d memorized in her off-nights with the lights dim and Alex’s hands steady on her thighs. It was sloppy hunger, all build and nerve, like he didn’t care how it landed as long as he got her down his throat. Her breath shuddered loose again when he gripped her base tighter, like holding her cock gave him leverage over her throb.
Her cock jerked when he hummed low around her shaft, throat vibrating against the upper half, tongue still flicking beneath like he couldn’t pick just one sensation to overwhelm her with. His saliva coated her length, spit gathering at the corners of his lips where pull turned sloppy at the base. His hand jerked in counter to his mouth’s pull, palm tight around her coated shaft. Sam’s chest rose with each breath, her weight slanted toward him as her thighs tensed again.
Her hips began to shift, barely at first, the smallest nudge forward, the kind she might not even register as a thrust if not for how her cock dragged against his tongue. His lips parted wider to take the movement, breath blowing out from his nose against her pubic bone when she inched forward again. Her fingers flexed tighter on the counter, knuckles straining while her hips edged forward inch by inch. Her cock fed forward into the open breath of his mouth, and she exhaled louder the second time.
His hands slid up her thighs, bracing her from underneath as her hips rolled slow. She kept the pace barely moving, just enough to feel the way the thick stretch of her shaft passed across his tongue. Every movement coaxed a twitch from her cock, every inch fed to his throat made her throb pound harder. His lips stretched around her shaft, jaw slack to accommodate each slow glide, and her teeth clicked together once when his nose brushed her skin.
His lips stretched wider on their own, dragging forward like he needed every inch, hands bracing her thighs, and his throat flexed every time her crown passed the point of resistance. Her cock glistened from the press of his tongue, open sheen catching the dim light as her hips pumped once, then again, length feeding slow into the tight circle of his lips. She gritted her teeth, one hand bracing the counter again, the other sliding to the back of his head without tugging.
She rolled her hips again, cock pushing further down his throat. Her breath left ragged, mouth open around it as she felt him swallow. His tongue caught the underside again, and her hand tightened at the base of his skull. Her shaft ached as his tongue caught the same spot again and again, the dull throb building through the length with every inch taken. She moved again, careful not to snap her hips, letting her cock disappear into him, her body stiffened hard, stuck halfway in with her cock twitching in his throat.
The tension hooked low in her gut, building with every lap of his tongue, every retreat of his mouth. Her cock pulsed once in warning, and her hand on his head faltered. Her balls drew tight, the weight of them resting in his hand while her hips edged forward. Her breath hitched on the next thrust, hips freezing in place while her cock throbbed against his tongue.
She was really about to cum for a mouth that wasn’t Alex’s, and the second that thought hit, her head tilted back, release pumping straight to the back of his throat. Her shaft twitched with each throb, cum flooding into his mouth as her hips gave a final push forward. She groaned through gritted teeth, jaw locked as she kept her grip tight to the counter. Her cock drained into him, thick pulses milking down his throat, and her knees bent just slightly as the wave overtook her.
Sam tipped her head back, breath dragging through her chest as her eyes screwed shut, her brain reeling under all of it. Alex's face hit her first—stupid honest, the kind that wouldn't flinch if Sam confessed this out loud. Because yeah, nothing like picturing your girlfriend’s face while some college dropout tongue-bathed your cock, whilst her cock jumped against the drag of his mouth, his tongue scraping the underside on its way up. She was going to set him on fire. Not scream at him. Not throw him out. Fire. Real, hot, fuck-you-for-existing fire, the kind Alex would probably help clean up if she didn’t dump her first.
But the one who deserved it wasn’t even here. Lena. With her perfect blowouts and disastrous life choices. Lena, who’d dropped this whole goddamn situation in Sam’s lap like it was just another lab sample. She was the reason Sam was standing here with her cock twitching in a some college idiot’s mouth, balls-deep in cheating and still sinking, halfway to planning homicide.
And over all of it, like some final kick to the spine, that fucking promise from Lena started echoing again —“I’ll make sure they stay after game night,” like this was part of the plan. Sam didn’t know what pissed her off more—that it echoed so clear, or that her lips started to curl like her body had already picked a side.