I hate Clark Kent. With every cell in my body I hate Clark Kent.
His arms are around me cutting off my breath intake, causing me to gasp for air. Clark chuckles and squeezes me even tighter. I know I can reach my emergency Kryptonite if I just stretch a few more inches. The pocket opens and I grasp the container.
“Babe, we fit together so well! Forget Hal, he just being Hal.”
I reconsider the Kryptonite.
“Plus it’s only a few inches.”
Clark lets go of me and I allow myself to smile up at him. He smirks, “Besides, how can you be a bottom if you’re taller than me?”
We’ll see who’s a bottom when my boot is permanently lodged in his ass.
MacNMemes 