She couldn't stop thinking about that kiss.

Long after she'd convinced herself he must have been delirious and thinking of someone else as his lips lingered over hers. Long after she decided to play it off to spare him the embarrassment of discovering she'd been the convenient avatar for whomever he'd been fantasizing about. Even days after returning from helping her new Earth-1 allies defeat the Dominators, she could still feel his lips on hers. Could still feel the rush of heat beneath her skin that had nothing to do with the rays from the yellow sun.

She tries not to think about it, just like she tried to stamp down the joy that rose up in her when, stepping out of the dimensional portal, she saw him standing there, his arms crossed, his jean-clad hips cocked to one side, a look of concern mixed with relief on his face. She tries not think about how attractive he is, or how his carefree grin makes her heart skip a beat, and how it sets to racing when he laughs, like a thoroughbred after the gate releases.

She tries not to think about any of it – until it's all she can think about. Even Alex notices, teasing Kara with her eyes whenever the three of them are in the same room together. And then it becomes a freak show. He smiles and she flusters…even more than usual. His hand (unintentionally?) brushes against her arm and she's certain he can hear her breath catch and her heart lock up for a moment before her blood is racing through her veins again.

Of course, it's not long before the dreams begin. His mouth moving against hers, his hands finding their way to her skin; groping, grasping, sometimes with a light touch and sometimes something more commanding. His voice rasping out her name like it's everything, and her own sighs of pleasure so loud in her ears. Each time, she awakens with a thin sheen of sweat on her face and between her breasts, her brain still insisting that his hot open mouth sliding down her neck is so very real. She almost cries because it isn't.

But it never goes farther than hot breath on hotter skin or roaming hands finding the hollow of her lower back. No matter how she falls asleep hoping that her mind will conjure new, deeper paths of pleasure, she awakens each time unfulfilled and disappointed, with only her fingers to help her find her way.

And she knows why, can admit that much to herself at least. Even in her dreams her mind can't go further than she's actually been in the waking world. Her mind can only barely conceive of what it feels like to have a man's hips cradled between her thighs, or feel the bare sweat-slicked skin of his belly moving against hers. She has only her imagination for that – an imagination which refuses to put any skin in the game when it comes to her dreams.

Kara Danvers is a virgin, which if the average person were to ponder upon, should come as a surprise to no one. Even if she weren't an alien, she'd still be completely awkward girl around cute boys, not mention self-conscious about…everything. Not to mention the secrets! There's all the secrets she's had to keep since arriving on Earth; about herself and about her family. Secrets which have only become more involved as she's gotten older, moved out on her own and tried to make her way in the world. Of course, it doesn't help that not knowing when to stop talking is a problem she struggles with every day – especially around boys who might show a little interest. And it can't be overstated that it's no easy feat maintaining a dual identity, which limits the options when it comes to meeting someone and having an open and honest relationship. Kara still cringes when she thinks about Cat's son and how exhausting that had been.

But the real problem about being a girl from Krypton on a planet orbiting a yellow sun, is the invulnerability. The imperviousness to outside forces trying to penetrate…yeah…Kara cringes at the thought, because she's not just invulnerable to speeding bullets and randomly tossed street signs. She's invulnerable to all of it.

All of it.

It's why she chickened out with James. She couldn't, in good conscious, ask him to enter into a relationship with the knowledge that they could only top out at heavy petting and oral sex. And she didn't feel comfortable enough telling him the truth – didn't want to see the look in his eyes – so she fed him some line about needing to figure out who she is before she can be in a relationship. James deserved better, she told herself; a relationship with her might have been a fun novelty for a while, but would have ultimately been unfulfilling for both of them. It was this shortcoming of her own unintentional and unwanted making, which had been in the forefront of her mind when she'd broken things off with James before they'd hardly had a chance to begin.

To be fair, she has considered several work arounds, including employing the strategic use of Kryptonite to serve her purpose. But there are two problems with that. One: Kryptonite has a tendency to alter her body on a molecular level and there is no predicting what that could do to her under a specific set of (erotic) circumstances. And two: luckily, in most instances, physical damage done while exposed to the green element heal completely once exposed to the sun's radiation. So…using Kryptonite to facilitate the loss of her virginity might only be a short term solution. Also, exposure to Kryptonite is excruciatingly painful for her, so realistically she would be unable to enjoy any amorous activities performed while in its presence. Her (Earth) mother, always pragmatic about such things, would definitely tell her that self-imposed misery during the process would defeat the whole purpose.

Which is why, this time, when the abrupt ending to her recurring dream has her eyes snapping open, she also rockets straight out of bed, hovering over the mattress as though her entire body has become a giant light-bulb of inspiration.

Mon-El!

Of course! Why hadn't she thought of it before? Mon-El had literally dropped into their lives – a Daxam boy in his stolen Kryptonian pod, escaping a dying planet and getting knocked off course for who knows how many years. Like an extremely attractive but undisciplined angel from the heavens sent to help her take care of her little problem. Her cousin Clark, even more hopeful and optimistic than her, would tell her that everything happens for a reason.

Mon-El can do what no man on Earth (that she isn't related to by blood) can do for her – end her years-long torment rid her of this no-longer needed or wanted virginity. All she has to do is work up the nerve to ask him and then convince him to say yes. Kara, still hovering over her bed, snickers and blushes. Who is she kidding? Mon-El is a Daxamite; he'd probably be out of his clothes before she could say, 'let's get it on.'

Not that she would ever say that. Ever.

She's half-tempted to speed dress and fly to the DEO right now, lest she lose her nerve, before noticing that it's just 4 am. That will never do. Mon-El doesn't handle being jarred from sleep very well, even in the best of circumstances, and Kara needs him to be fully awake and able to properly process her request when she approaches him with her quandary. Kara shivers. She will have to find a way to tell him everything…everything…and hope that he can take her seriously and above all, be discreet about it.

She finds herself in the strange and tenuous position of hanging a lot of faith on a guy that just a few short weeks ago was beating people up for money. Except that since then he's begun to step up as if, despite his Daxam upbringing, he's decided he wants to be a part of something bigger than himself. It didn't exactly make him a hero, but for now it is enough. Given enough time and guidance, Mon-El could really turn into a story of inspiration.

But he's still who he is; a Daxamite nobleman who had a human girl practically out of her panties five minutes after being released from full-time surveillance. Kara wonders if Mon-El has been tested for sexually transmitted diseases, before shaking her head at the prospect. He had been tested for everything while still in his stasis coma (once they figured out how to inject the needle), and it was unlikely that he could pick anything up from human physiology. If human viruses can't affect Kryptonians then they're unlikely to affect Daxamites.

Kara spends the next few hours formulating a battle plan…and rules. If they were going to do this they were going to have to lay down some ground rules. She narrowly resists the urge to write them down on a pad of paper.

Despite her nervous anxiety screaming at her to go see him at 7 am, Kara waits until her lunch break from work before speeding over to the DEO. She sneaks past J'onn and Winn hovering near a bank of computer terminals and barely misses barreling into Alex.

"Hey, Kara!" Alex says, her eyes widening with surprise. Her face shifts quickly to one of confusion. "Did J'onn call you in? Is there something going on?"

"No," Kara answers, her lips pursing together. "I just…promised Mon-El I'd take him to try Cuban food. I'm here to pick him up."

"Well, good," she replies. "I think he's going stir-crazy. Last I saw him, he was wearing out another treadmill in the gym."

"Thanks, Alex. I'll have him back in an hour. Maybe less," she muttered. Kara could feel her skin flushing with heat again.

"Shouldn't be problem. Hey, are you sure you're okay?"

"Fine," Kara waves her off, downplaying the state of turmoil going on inside of her right now. "Fine. It's nothing. See you later?"

"You bet."

Kara could smell the tell-tale odor of burning rubber before she stepped into the gym. "You're supposed to stop when that smell happens!" she warns him, raising her voice over the booming music coming from a stereo system in the corner of the room. "Give the machine a chance to rest."

Hearing her voice, his head snaps up catching her eyes in the gym mirror. He's unable to stop the grin that spreads across his face when she places her hands solidly on her hips. With a click of a remote control the room is plunged into silence. "They should build one that needs rest less than I do."

"My friend Barry has one," she informs him, good-naturedly. Mon-El is wearing running shorts and a skin-tight shirt made by UnderArmour. His muscle ripple beneath the material with every shift and move of his body. Her mouth goes suddenly dry and she finds herself in need of a drink.

Mention of her 'friend' Barry from Earth-1 has him feeling like he's swallowed an icicle, tearing his smile from his face. It reminds him that she'd been gone for nearly a week, while he waited and worried that she might never return. Fighting the Dominators, he'd been told, after she was already gone without a goodbye. He paced and shook a finger angrily at J'onn. He should have gone with her! Daxam had twice repelled an invasion from the Dominators. Perhaps he could have been of some use, he'd explained. But the truth was, he was just afraid she's like it better over there and decide never to return.

When the grin that lit a fire in her belly only a moment before, slides from his face at the mention of her friend Kara ducks her head to hide her disappointment.

"The speedster, right?" Mon-El nods avoiding her eyes. He dabs what little amount of exertion had gathered on his skin from his forehead with a towel.

"Right." Kara tucks her hands behind her back nervously. "Maybe next time I talk to him I can ask him for the blueprints."

"Maybe," he replies with a shrug. "Hey is there something going on? Shouldn't you be at work?" He doesn't want to talk about her special friend Barry anymore. The thought of him makes Mon-El want to tear the building down brick by brick.

She takes a deep breath to quell the butterflies in her stomach, reminding herself that this wouldn't even be the most difficult question she asked today. "I was wondering if you would be interested in getting Cuban food," she said in a rush. "With me…for lunch?" His grin is back and she has to lock her knees to keep them from turning to mush

Lunch? Outside of the DEO? And alone with her? Once again, he's unable to suppress his pleasure at her request. As Winn would say, 'he has no chill'. "I've never had Cuban food," he points out. "I do like their music though. It's fun. Reminds me of home."

"If it would bother you we can go somewhere else—" She doesn't want to make him said. That would not be conducive to getting what she needs from him.

"It's fine," he cuts in. "Give me a minute to shower and change?" he asks.

Kara nods and he zips out of the room, returning literally a minute later, dressed in chinos and long-sleeved burgundy Henley that fits him like a second skin. His hair is still wet from the shower, but combed neatly into place. She's struck with the desire to tuck her face into his neck and smell his skin. "Ready?" he inquires.

She has to shake off both the desire to smell him, and the eclipse of moths that seems to have settled into the deepest parts of her belly. "Yeah," she answers, her voice little more than a croak. "Let's go."

It's a short walk to Flor de Cuba and Kara spends much of it debating in her head whether she should ask him before or after the meal. If she waits until after, then lunch is likely to last longer than she strictly has time for. As they're seated at a table near the back of the restaurant, Mon-El effectively decides the course of the conversation when his voice intrudes on her thoughts.

"You seem to be thinking about something pretty hard over there. It's giving you wrinkles," he chuckles.

She covers her forehead with one hand, smoothing out the wrinkles between her eyebrows. "Is not," she whines, though she knows it's true.

He sighs, his Adam's apple moving beneath the skin of his neck with a gulp and he licks his lips before speaking. "Something tells me this isn't just a friendly lunch. Did I do something wrong again, Kara?" This time it's his brow's turn to furrow. It seems as if he's if forever disappointing her no matter how hard he tries. And now that…that he's found that he's falling for her, it makes her irritation with him that much more difficult to bear.

Something about the sad look on his face makes her want to reach across the table for his hand to comfort him. She doesn't. Instead she twists a napkin between her fingers in her lap, out of his line of vision but quickly tries to set him at ease. "No, it's nothing like that," she reassures. "I did want to talk to you about something, but I wanted us to be away from prying ears and security cameras." She clamps her mouth shut when the waitress steps up to place two glasses of water on the table and drops a menu in front of each of them.

"What did you want to talk to me about?" he presses finally, after the silence between them lingers just a moment too long. He attempts to appear slightly disinterested by perusing his menu.

"What are you hungry for?" she asks, an obvious redirection. 'Don't chicken out,' she tells herself.

"You pick. Whatever's good here," he tells her before setting aside his menu. He can't stand the suspense and doesn't want to wait another minute to find out what he's done to create that frightened look on her face. "What did want to talk to me about? You should just tell me before you burn a hole in the menu with your eyes."

He is right. She stares at her menu as if it had personally tried to attack her and she is planning a way to take it down. Still, Kara grips the menu more tightly in her hands and wonders if it would be too immature to hide behind it. She recalls what her high school Health teacher used to say in class, 'If you can't talk about it, then you shouldn't be doing it.'

Kara straightens her spines and squares her shoulders, leaning her back hard against the booth. Mon-El's eyes widen in response and he seems to steel himself for whatever might come next. "I need your help with something," she begins.

"Great," he breathes a deep sigh of relief. Asking for his help is a good sign, he thinks. Perhaps it means that he's earning more of her trust. "I'm all about the helping these days. What is it? Do you need back-up finding your Earth father? I heard you and Alex talking about it the other day. And I can't help but feel like I owe him." Jeremiah Danvers, long held captive by Cadmus had saved his life by fishing a lead bullet out of Mon-El's leg when Cadmus had taken him hostage.

"No," Kara shakes her head, though she thinks he's sweet to offer. "It's not that. It's more personal."

Mon-El's eyes squint and he tilts his head to the left. "What's more personal than saving your father?" He wonders is this had anything to do with the kiss he denies remembering.

Grasping her water glass, she drains the glass in one go before setting back on the table.

"Seriously, Kara…are you okay?" She's the nervous sort, in a flustered way that he finds completely charming and adorable, but what he sees on her face and in her body language tells him that this is more than garden variety nerves.

"I need you to have sex with me," she blurts out, her eyes refusing to meet his. Damn it! She hadn't meant to phrase it that way, but part of her just wanted it over with. A beat of silence fills the space between them and Kara can hear a mouse chomping through a cardboard box in the back alley.

This time it is Mon-El's turn to drain his glass of water. "Excuse me?" he croaks. "What was that?" Super hearing or not, he must have misheard her, of misunderstood what she was saying. Surely, she wasn't suggesting they have sex – not after she'd been so relieved to find out he didn't remember kissing her.

"I need to lose my virginity, and it has to be you." Kara clears her throat, hopping that might distract from the blush she can feel spreading across her face.

Well that wasn't…he hadn't been expecting to hear that. A burst of joy mixed with relief explodes inside of him upon hearing that she's a virgin. Not that it would matter to him if she wasn't, but still…knowing that she's untouched somehow lifts a weight off his shoulders. So…Barry isn't a thing and apparently never has been. Mon-El's face splits with a grin and his mouth drops open. He drops his head in an attempt to hide his happiness, which she will possibly find insulting.

"Don't you dare laugh," she warns, pointing a finger at him and squinting her eyes as though she's prepared to let loose some highly focused heat vision.

He makes a clearly concerted effort to ease his face into a more neutral expression. Clearing his throat, he bites down on his lower lip and squeezes his eyes shut, telling himself to get control. He's not completely sure what she's asking of him, so he decides to plot his next moves before getting the answers he needs.

Kara isn't sure but she suspects he's having a conversation with himself in the privacy of his own head. Mon-El sucks in a lungful of air, as though he had forgotten momentarily to breathe and only just remembered how, although Kara knows he would have to go much longer than a minute without air to necessitate the taking of a breath that desperate.

"Just for clarification…you wish to undergo the Rite of—"

"No rites," she cuts in. "No ceremonies. Just a simple business transaction."

"Kara…." He does that adorable thing where he tilts his head again, trying to wrap his mind around the constant contradictions of the cultures of planet Earth. "It's my understanding that…I mean from what Winn tells me…sex as a business…there are laws against that here. Stupid laws, by the way, but laws I've promised to follow nonetheless."

"Oh!" she quickly realizes her mistake. "No, no, not like that. There will be no money changing hands…or exchange of goods…in any way."

"Then how is it a business transaction?" he asks, more confused than ever.

Back to the drawing board, she sighs. "Okay. What if we called it…a favor between friends…?"

"Friends," his voice drops, his brow furrowing again. That doesn't bode as well as he'd hoped based on how their conversation began. Mon-El doesn't wish to be merely 'friends' with Kara. He wants much, much more – but he also knows that he isn't good enough for her, isn't what she wants in a man, not really. "But there are others who've known you far longer. Men that you clearly prefer…to me."

Kara opens her mouth to speak, but closes it, wondering what she might have done since his arrival to give him that impression. She's been playing her cards super close to the chest these last few months. And besides that, he's completely wrong…if her dreams have anything to say about it.

"Such as this Barry person," he suggests, tentatively, as though testing a fence. "Or…James?"

Shaking her head resolutely, she insists, "It has to be you, Mon-El." She doesn't understand why he is so hesitant; is she really that unattractive to him? She knows that she's quite attractive by Earth standards, at least if some of her headlines are to be believed. Somehow though, when she imagined this scenario she envisioned him halfway to undressed by this point. "You have super strength and you're invulnerable. Don't you understand?"

Mon-El tries not to visualize her arms around him, clutching at his naked back while he…does things to her. Clearing his throat, he says, "I'm sure if you're gentle, you wouldn't break—"

"It's not about me breaking them, Mon-El. It's about them not being able to…break – do I really have to spell this out for you?" Kara can hear the pitch of voice rising to unflattering levels, and she drops her face into her hands to hide her abject humiliation. In spite of the growing lump in her throat, she refuses to get emotional over this.

It strikes him then as though he's been thrown against a brick wall. "Oh!" he croons, finally realizing the nature of her dilemma. "Because you're invulnerable. So…everything's invulnerable." He imagines a human man trying to solve her problem, and cringes painfully at the only possible outcome of that scenario.

"Right," she sighs with relief, the worst now over.

"Yeah, that's definitely a tough break." And then, like an idiot, he grins at his own pun.

The waitress returns and Kara orders the ropa vieja for them both, with an extra serving of black beans and caramelized plantains, because she's feeling the need for something sweet. Mon-El picks at a piece of bread while rolling her request around in his head. They sit quietly, Kara tugging uncomfortably at an errant curl of hair at the back of her neck, until their food arrives some minutes later.

"So when would this event take place?" he wonders.

"You'll do it then?" she perks up immediately, though she has to restrain the nest of writhing snakes his question has awakened in her belly.

Mon-El shrugs and then decides for a joke to lighten the mood. "What kind of Daxamite would I be if I left a beautiful woman like you untarnished? I would hardly be doing the Daxam reputation justice, now would I?" It's clear from the shifting expression on Kara's face that his attempt at humor has hit wide of the mark. Very wide.

Kara's smile slides from her face and her hopes plummet to the soles of her feet. The nonchalance of his attitude disappears just as quickly as her smile and Kara can tell that Mon-El recognizes his misstep.

Quickly reaching across the table, all humor vanishing from his demeanor, he covers her hand with his. Mon-El's voice lowers to a gentle, reassuring timbre. "I promise I'll take care of you, Kara. I'll make sure it's done right, okay?

"Okay," she nods, her eyes misting up, quite against her will.

Seeing her emotion and wishing to reassure her more fully he adds, "Don't worry, I have all the training needed."

"Training?" she wonders, her widening with shock. "What do you mean?"

"Oh," he says. "I thought you knew."

"Knew what?"

"It's standard in the court of the Crown Prince, that all courtiers receive training and discipline in the pleasure arts. It begins for the males when their fifteen, seventeen for the girls, and it's quite comprehensive."

"Why would you need—you know what? I don't want to know." Kara shakes off the thought though she knows it's likely to haunt her until her curiosity is satisfied.

"All you need to know, is that you're going to be in good hands. But before I agree to this, you have to promise me one thing first."

"What's that?"

"This can't just be a 'transaction' like you called it. You can't just lay there with your eyes closed…pretending I'm someone else. Not if you want your first time to be something worth remembering, as it should be. You have to be a participant. You have to be open to me...trust me. Can you do that? Because if you can't…"

The eyes that usually sparkle with mischief or impending irresponsibility, darken with intense sincerity. In that moment she sees in Mon-El as the man he she knows he can be and Kara feels her mouth go dry. Thankfully the waitress had refilled their water glasses after dropping off their meal. She realizes that part of her had wanted him to take it all seriously, despite the utter ridiculousness of her requests. A sigh of relief escapes her mouth before she nods in agreement with his request.

Mon-El smiles, his eyes, gray pools of warm reassurance. "Everything will be fine, Kara. I've seen enough of your Earth entertainment programs to know that sex between friends without current romantic entanglements can be a mutually beneficial agreement. Friends with benefits, I think they call it. I saw one movie where two friends agreed to mate when they were of a certain age if they hadn't found their partners yet. I liked that one. A little sappy, but there were some funny moments."

"I didn't realize they were supplying you with a selection of rom-coms." Kara is thrilled for an avenue of escape from their current discussion.

"Rom-coms?"

"Romantic comedies," she explains. "Doesn't seem quite your style."

"The powers-that-be decided that I'm not allowed to watch anything that depicts explosions or alien invasions, or aggression of any kind."

"So…no action movies allowed," she surmises.

"Romantic comedies and sad stories written by a man named Nicholas Sparks are the only films on the approved watch list, I'm afraid. I hear good things about this Liam Neeson person though." Mon-El chuckles and Kara remembers that she's always liked his sense of humor, although begrudgingly at first.

"I'm sure that will all change in time. They're just being cautious."

"I know that I still have a lot to learn, Kara. They can't just release me to the wild…I get it. I may speak the language, but sometimes that creates more questions than it answers. On the upside, thanks to these rom-coms I'm learning a lot about how to woo Earth women." He waggles his eyebrows suggestively, though she can tell he's just trying to elicit a laugh from her.

He goes on to detail all the ridiculous things he's learning from watching rom-coms and before she knows it, she's forgotten all about how nervous she was when they walked into the restaurant. He's enamored with the taste of Cuban food, but makes a bit of a mess on his face eating the ropa vieja. Kara leans forward with her napkin and wipes away the smear of greasy beef gravy on his chin. Something she can't interpret flashes in his eyes as he offers his thanks.

Before leaving the restaurant to walk him back to the DEO they decide that Friday night would be good night, so she leaves him at the front door of building her chest filling with a combination of excitement and terror.