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The Athens Gate Hotel is one of the city's shining jewels in the hotel industry. Tonight it has been taken over by several hundred dignitaries in preparation for the opening ceremonies of the 2004 Olympic Games on the morrow. And by 'taken over' the narration means it; both the ground floor reception room and the rooftop garden have been invaded by A-list guests, including movie stars, ambassadors and several deities.

The guest of honor is one Thallo Eirene, whose status wasn't something she was aware of until arriving at the hotel, and someone tried to whisk her away for a photoshoot with some of the other celebrities.

(It was a very reluctant photoshoot on her part.)

Now, she's ensconced in the garden with her date, mentally counting down the time they still have to suffer through before she can make a graceful exit and run away from all the media attention. The dress she's wearing isn't exactly helping with her attempts to be a wallflower.

"Your Holiness." Eirene glances up at the latest intruder, and smiles pleasantly. "Your Holiness. Thank you for coming, sir. I know that your followers are pleased to see you out and about."

That's right. She's talking to the Pope.

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"I do." She licks along the flesh right beneath his bottom lip, nipping at his chin, and continues what she's doing below until he tells her to stop. Or something.

His head drops down to rest on her shoulder.

"Eirene..." It's more of a gasp than anything else.

She halt immediately, withdrawing her hand. "I'm sorry. Did I hurt you?" Because while Kryptonian male parts seem like human ones, she could have just seriously injured him.

"No," he manages to breathe out and takes the opportunity of where his mouth is to start kissing along her collar bone.

Eirene's breathe hitches, air held captive inside her lungs for several seconds, and then only released when his mouth gets to the edge of that delicate bone. A few moments later, her hand inches back, toying briefly with the waistband again -- before sliding beneath it to find him.

There's that gasp again, breathed in against her skin this time as he presses himself into her hand.

Thumb stroking along his tip, Eirene shifts underneath Clark into a slightly more comfortable position, one where his head can nestle against her shoulder.

Whispered: "What do you want me to do?"

The bed creaks under the weight of his hand bracing himself beside her. Clark doesn't seem to notice.

"Don't stop."

Eirene doesn't care, or didn't hear, the creaking. She's too busy exploring that part of him that prompts more of those low, interesting noises that make her burn. Everywhere.

So she doesn't stop, stroking gently for a few minutes to see if that pleases him.

Edited 2008-08-03 22:23 (UTC)

It does, but only for a few minutes. And then he'll reach down and gently take hold of her wrist. "Enough for now," he whispers against her throat. And then he'll start trying to divest himself of his boxers entirely.

"Okay," she murmurs against the shell of his ear, and watches the attempts to remove the material with interest. Because, you know, he's pressing down against her in the midst of all those contortions. Of course, once she starts whimpering every time his hips jerk, those boxers may just disappear -- and reappear on the floor somewhere when her patience runs out.

It's entirely possible Clark doesn't even really notice that's what happens. He's far too distracted with the complete skin on skin contact and tracing his hands over her upper body.

That's okay. The magically disappearing underwear are really the last thing on Eirene's mind once his hands start exploring. She's going to encourage this all she can by making the appropriate noises; little gasps punctuated by the occasional moan. Although certain parts of her chest ... blossoming is an involuntary thing.

"Don't stop."

Clark has no intention of stopping; not immediately, anyway. In fact, he may slow his hands down a little, savouring every inch of skin they come across and starting to trail down along her abdomen and further.

Eirene's pelvis twists up the closer his fingers drift towards it, moisture beading along a hip bone as she fights to contain the urge to flip her boyfriend over and pin him to the mattress. Slow, however, is what Clark needs in his comfort zone. Her groans might get a little throatier, a little louder.

And his shoulder might actually get nipped.

"Hey." There's only mild surprise in his tone. He felt that. Other than that, there is only the slightest pause in his ministrations before his hand finally drifts between her legs, stroking her gently.

"What?" Well, that's what she intended to say, but it comes out more like, "Whaaaaa--" and dwindles into a soft groan, a brief tremor surging through her in response to his fingers.

"Oh, Tartarus," she swears, hips arching up against Clark's hand.

There's a brief flicker of a smile at that, if only because now she knows how he felt just a few minutes ago. And since she seems to be enjoying it, he'll just continue his attentions, while his lips find her neck again.

Enjoyment is a pale word for what she's feeling right now, when every nerve in her body seems to be centered on that tiny area between her thighs, each stroke producing another burst of liquid electricity. After a few minutes, all she can do is squirm underneath him, hands having dropped to fist helplessly against the sheets.

Which, Clark thinks, is probably a good sign that it's getting time to move on. He's getting more than a little impatient himself. He withdraws his hand and shifts over her, finding her mouth with his own again. And then he slowly draws one of her legs up and around his waist.

Indeed. Eirene would agree, were she capable of coherent speech. Shifting under him again, positioning herself just so at his behest (and kidnapping a leg is definitely a 'behest'), Clark is assured of a smooth joining when he decides he's ready.

Except perhaps for that tiny little surprise awaiting them both when he does thrust forward.

A behest, an unspoken request for permission. Either way, it's most certainly a signal. And since Eirene has offered no measure of protest, Clark takes a deep breath, gives her another lingering kiss and then starts to press inside her, slowly, but purposefully.

Eirene really isn't in the mood anymore for this slow stuff, if the rain-and-roses scent so heavily weighing down the air is any indication. She thrusts her hips forward smoothly, needing him inside her like she doesn't remember needing anything before, and groans into his mouth.

Right before something tears, prompting her to freeze and emit a tiny gasp. That is not supposed to be there.

Clark stills immediately, eyes widening in concern.

"Did I hurt you? Do you want me to stop?"

Eirene doesn't speak for a moment, that twinge of pain was really the last thing she expected, and just catches her breath.

Then, sounding somewhat embarassed, "Clark. You just took my virginity." Pause. "Which I haven't had for millenia."