Made to be Broken
Aug. 29th, 2011 09:20 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
trista_zevkiaTitle: Made to be Broken
Author: Trista_zevkia
Chapter: 5/5
Fandom: Batman/Superman
Characters/Pairing: Clark/Bruce
Rating: PG-17
Warnings: SLASH
Summary: When Batman says to stay out of his city, you really should listen!
Disclaimer: All monies made will be sent to Wayne Enterprise approved Charities
Author's Notes:
Once upon a time, there was a flood in New Zealand. Many have moved on, but my lazy butt and broken wrist are just now getting around to fulfilling my part. For Darke_wulf kindness about the time, I’m tossing in a few extra words. It has nothing to do with my inability to follow guidelines
; )
Chapter 4
Clark’s elderly neighbor was on the apartment elevator when he got done for the day, and he was required by Boy Scout law to help her with her groceries. If she talked so long the Bruce lost interest and went back to attempting to rewrite the programming on the Fortress’s AI, that wasn’t Clark’s fault. It was Clark’s fault that he could tell the Fortress’s AI what to do in an email, but he thought Batman would approve of that measure, just in case it was needed to save the world someday. Clark hadn’t planned on using it to annoy and/or seduce anybody, but he wasn’t afraid to try something new!
Clark unloaded his groceries and changed clothes while Bruce sat and worked on an invisible computer. Nobody could multitask like Bruce, but when all his concentration was on something, it was intense to watch. Bruce finally looked up, with suspicious eyes, when Clark spoke in Kryptonian. “Initiate program: dinner date.”
“I don’t know what you have in mind, but I feel underdressed.”
“You like the tux then?”
“I have two like it.”
“Probably why Alfred recommended it to me.”
“Stop trying to steal my butler.”
“I’m just borrowing his fashion advice.”
“He ordered one that actually fits you, unlike most of Kent’s clothes.”
“You just said I have a nice body. I’ve never heard such high praise from you!”
“Get naked and maybe I’ll think of something nicer to say.”
“Don’t be such a tease, Bruce! One spark of genuine lust from you, and my sonic boom will break every window from here to there.”
Bruce looked away, embarrassed that his body wasn’t responding that way.
Clark was really glad he hadn’t told Bruce about the medical readings that continuously floated above Bruce’s head. Bruce didn’t need to know just how closely Clark was watching his reactions to things, or how the halo of readings made Bruce angelically beautiful. “Follow the robot Bruce, we’re going out for supper.”
As if in apology for his emotions, Bruce followed the robot without complaint. Bruce was led to a room with only one piece of furniture. Bruce gave Clark a suspicious look before checking the lounging couch for hidden devices.
Clark found himself babbling as Bruce looked. “I tried to explain to the AI that it was the kind of couch ancient Romans lounge about on in all those movies, but it gave me a very polite ‘says you’ back. Had to find measurements and pictures online for the AI to figure it out. The AI’s knows almost everything about Krypton and Earth, but it still has trouble making some connections.”
“Want me to fix that for you?” Bruce asked as he settled onto the couch, but he stretched and got comfortable in just the right way to make Clark forget the question.
When Bruce was still, Clark thanked all the gods for his photographic memory. The robot had returned with a tray of the foods Clark had selected, so Clark found his words. ”Phase two.”
The lights went off and stars were projected into the dark room. While Bruce was adjusting to supper in space, the AI synchronized Clark’s image with the robot. Now when Clark picked a cherry from his plate, the robot picked a cherry. When Bruce looked at the movement, his fear response told Clark that Bruce was seeing his hologram manipulated solid objects. Bruce’s strong hands curled around the edges of the couch as the cherry was held before his lips. There was hesitation, and time for the medical readout to show Bruce calming down, before his lips opened.
Accepting the invitation, Clark began to feed Bruce. Finger foods and bits of fruit slowly began to trail over exposed skin before being offered to Bruce. As Bruce chewed the food given to him by the disguised robot, Clark would eat the piece in his hand. After a particularly juicy bite of fruit left a trail down Bruce’s chest and stomach, Clark saw the flaw in his plan: the robot didn’t have a tongue.
It must have shown on his face, for Bruce grabbed another piece. Bruce dragged it further down himself then Clark had dared, along muscular thighs. Bruce got it back to his mouth, and sucked the juice out of it. The noise he made sucking on it covered the sound of Clark’s fly opening, but Bruce still noticed.
Bruce gave Clark a new look and started moving before Clark found the word to describe that look. Moving the food tray until Clark’s erection was on it, Bruce knelt to eat off of it. “Evil Bruce! You’re evil!”
Bruce looked up, the tip of Clark’s cock half an inch from his moist lips. “Maybe just a little evil.”
Evil Bruce dropped his head for more licentious eating. Clark was left with only his hand and the image of Bruce’s head noisily working down there. It was enough. Enough for now, anyway.
sBSbBs
Clark soon found he could masturbate to anything Bruce did, the problem was trying not to let Bruce know that! Bruce, gloriously naked, working through his complex and rigorous physical regime? Hot. Bruce focused and intense while he worked on the computer? Nerdy and hot. Bruce meditating, running through mental exercises as old as the human race? Nerdy and metaphysically hot enough to inflame the most physical aspect of a man. Bruce and his mind games on Clark? Nerdy and hot as a solar flare. Bruce when he was actively trying to turn Clark on? Hotter than the sun, and Clark knew that for a fact!
Maybe it started out as revenge or a game, but Bruce still meant to win. Bruce catalogued every tiny thing that Clark enjoyed, and found ways to use them to drive Clark half crazy. Dirty talk made Clark perk up a bit? Them every time Clark was alone, Bruce was there, whispering wicked things in his ears. A day of this, and Clark made sure he was only alone when he had time to jerk off.
And maybe Clark would occasionally put his erection in Bruce’s hand as a hello. It wasn’t Clark’s fault that working with invisible crystals put Bruce’s hands in the perfect position for a hand job! It was Bruce’s fault that Clark was developing an exhibitionist streak, that much was for certain. Bruce was always turning Clark on, so Clark was trying to return the favor. Bruce wasn’t responding, so Clark was trying new things when he masturbated; pinching, slapping, squeezing, spreading, floating, anything he could think of to keep Bruce’s attention on him.
As much as he was taking things into his own hands, (as Clark thought of it because he couldn’t even think of sexual things anymore without Bruce’s voice saying them in his head and making him need some alone with Bruce time) Clark thought he should have been more relaxed. Instead, he could turn coal to diamonds with his butt cheeks! He had Lois convinced he had developed claustrophobia, as he needed a partner to go to the supply closet. And trying to get a group to shower after a particularly messy JL operation hadn’t won him any favors there. Flash suggested a water fight and GL asked if Clark needed the infirmary. Only J’onn had understood, and he was about as close to laughing as he ever got!
Clark feared the point of this thing was getting lost in his lust. He loved Bruce more than ever, but Bruce wasn’t ready to be in the same room as the real Clark yet. Any spikes in Bruce’s readings didn’t come with the desirable redirection of blood flow.
Erection, Bruce’s voice echoed in Clark’s brain. Pitching a tent, hoping you’ll help me with it.
Yeah, Clark thought, I’m so screwed I should at least get some actual screwing out of it!
Fucking, Clark. Come on, say it with me, do it with me!
“Clark, you’re so big and strong. Would you go get me a ream of paper?” A real voice, trying to allure Clark.
“Sure, Kitty.” Clark agreed before he quite got his head away from imaginary Bruce’s words, so imaginary Bruce didn’t stop talking.
You want to ream my ass, don’t you? Pin me under you and pound into me until I break?”
Clark closed his eyes and leaned on the door behind him, until a steady inhalation told him he wasn’t alone. Opening his eyes was a mistake, as Bruce was the only well lit thing in the supply closet. He was in some weird yoga pose that rested all his weight on his left hand and the left side of his foot in a sideways t shape, but kept his back and ass to Clark. Floating silently forward, Clark searched his pockets for the tissues he’d taken to carrying around. Besides the poor cleaning crew, what would Bruce say about Clark leaving DNA everywhere?
Give it to me, all of it. I know what to do with your cum!
“Bruce!” It was a strained whisper, but it got the real Bruce to break his yoga pose and turn to face Clark. Not finding a tissue, Clark used the seconds to drop his pants; he could wipe up with his underwear and hopefully no one would notice.
“You’re always so happy to see me Clark.” The self satisfied smirk had Clark reaching for himself.
“Smallville!” Clark whirled at the call, forgetting Lois was in another room, forgetting he was in the crowded confines of the supply closet. His erection slammed into the metal shelves. Pain in his vulnerable area distracted him and grabbing for his unfastened pants kept him from stopping the shelves from falling. Behind him, Bruce was laughing but other people were heading for the supply closet. Pulling his pants up, Clark lay on his stomach. Embarrassment wilted away his erection, as he waited for the shelves to be removed from his back by concerned coworkers.
A half hour of trying to explain he had no idea what happened and he wasn’t hurt lead to an hour of signing paperwork that he wasn’t going to sue and Clark Kent was the official laughing stock of the paper again. When he saw someone else enter the men’s room, Clark excused himself from Perry and the lawyers. The presence of Jeff, the sports reporter, at the urinal kept Bruce from showing up but let Clark have a moment to think.
He needed to talk to Bruce, find out if this was working, see if he could release Bruce into the wilds of Gotham yet. Talk, the thing Bruce was using sex to distract him from, because Bruce hated talking. Clark was still trying to decide on how to make Bruce talk to him when Jeff left. Clark couldn’t help the disgusted noise he made when he realized Jeff left without washing his hands. Clark was immune to most diseases, but he still washed his hands!
“What was that?” Bruce asked.
Clark practiced not looking at Bruce as he replied, hoping it would prevent lust induced brain freeze. “Nothing. What are you doing?”
“Just adding a few recipes to the Fortress database.”
“The Fortress knows how to make all Earth foods, so you only have to update those files with preferred variations.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
There was amusement in Bruce’s tone, but the men’s room door opened before Clark could ask about it. Jimmy smiled when he saw Clark leaning against the sink.
“I think they want you back in the Chief’s office, but I’m not sure.”
“Why aren’t you sure, Jimmy?”
“He told me to ask if you’d fallen in.”
“I didn’t fall in the toilet, I might be that klutzy, but I’m too big anymore.” Giving Jimmy a pat on the shoulder as he walked by, headed for Perry’s office.
While the lawyer talked, Clark considered Bruce. He hadn’t complained about the food before, so why this sudden interest in recipes? He’d been amused at something, maybe at Clark’s assumption it was a recipe for food? What other kinds of things had recipes? Making food was kind of like mixing basic ingredient like molecules or chemicals, did chemists call them recipes? Bruce was very good at chemistry…
“Kent! Are you coming down with something? You look green!”
“I might be a little sick to my stomach, Chief.”
“Don’t call me chief, and take the afternoon off.”
“I’ll do that, thank you!” Clark stood, and got a mental image of Bruce with a Kryptonian chemistry set. “Maybe tomorrow too, Chief?”
“Only if you don’t sue, now get out of here.”
Clark did get out of there; a tiny bit quicker then was humanly possible. He managed to keep from hitting sonic speeds by watching Bruce taste samples of whatever he’d made. Clark decided if he ever had to do anything like this again, he’d find a way to see what Bruce was interacting with! A very smug Bruce carried something as he walked through the Fortress, and Clark went sonic over a remote area of Canada.
“I’m in my room, Clark.” Smug, evil and devious Bruce said as he sprawled across a flat surface.
Clark still slowed down as he entered the Fortress, out of trepidation over what Bruce had planned. Bruce was in his room and the AI shut off the holograms as they got into the same room at long last. “Bruce, what are you up to?”
“So suspicious! I’d say it was about time, but you only ever seem suspicious of me.”
“If you were evil, I’d have some idea of how to deal with you!”
Bruce smirked at that, and pulled a small jar out from under his pillow. “You keep thinking that, Superman. But as I’m not evil, tell me what you think of my concoction.”
Hesitantly, Clark moved closer to the bed. Bruce’s readings were all over the place, but he wasn’t pulling back from Clark. With one finger, Clark got the tiniest amount he could from the jar. A deep sniff only told him it would be odorless to humans, so Clark touched his finger to his tongue. More confused than ever, Clark resorted to asking. “Cherry and coconut jelly?”
“Close, farm-boy.” Bruce stood to hold the jar in his left hand and in front of Clark. Keeping his hand there Bruce walked around until he was behind Clark. Bruce’s right hand completed the circle by coming around to work Clark’s belt.
The physical response that had stayed away out of concern for what Bruce was up to came back instantly. Bruce touched it, Clark’s erection, and Clark had to pull on reserves of strength he didn’t know he had to think. “Don’t tease, you need to heal!”
“Haven’t you ever heard of the healing power of laughter? One of my enemies told me about it.” Bruce’s hand started stroking and Clark forgot to ask if it was the Joker. Then Bruce hugged Clark, his left hand holding the jar to Clark’s chest, the right fighting to get to Clark’s erection, and something else rubbing against the cleft of Clark’s ass.
Clark broke free of the hug to spin around and look. “Bruce, you’re hard!”
“Excellent observational skills. Now get naked so I can use the lube I made.”
The wiggling jar brought Clark away from his staring, and he sped out of his clothes.
“On the bed and spread ‘em.”
“Spread ‘em? What about romance and foreplay?” Clark protested even as he followed Bruce’s instructions.
“We’ve been doing foreplay since I danced for you.” Despite his words, Bruce was teasing Clark with light touches on his thighs. “I stretched but didn’t get to my workout, so I’ve got energy. Would you rather I use it on hand jobs or a proper fuck?”
“Since I’m already on my back with my legs spread, I guess I’ll go for a proper fucking.”
“Lazy fucker!”
Clark started to laugh, but a well lubed finger cut of his brain functioning. It was Bruce’s finger, so it wasn’t just stretching him, but exploring, searching for something. In, around and out, until a second finger joined it, and together they found a bundle of nerves.
“Bruce! There, more, now!”
“So damn tight, you’ll rip off my dick. I can fix that!” Bruce cut off Clark’s assurances of safety with a well lubed third finger and a hand on Clark’s cock.
Bruce knew what he was doing, having observed what Clark liked to do to himself. Clark was afraid the sensations would overwhelm him too soon, when he wanted this to last forever, so he needed to distract himself. Forcing his eyes to focus, Clark realized he could see their reflections on the crystal ceiling. Even still, he didn’t understand the appeal if mirrored ceilings, as Bruce now filled his every sense. Too much Bruce to fight against, and the very next bump against his prostate shoved Clark into completion!
Clark would have happily eased back into his body, luxuriating in post orgasmic bliss, but Bruce was still moving. The ceiling was too far away, so Clark lifted his head to see what Bruce was up to. Bruce saw him looking, and pulled his hand out with squelch. Clark thought he should protest, but Bruce was lubing his cock.
“Beautiful cock, so huge.”
“That’s right, you just lay there and relax.”
“Okay.” Resting on his elbows, Clark watched as Bruce entered him, slowly, steadily. Giving in to Bruce was easy, wonderful, he really should do it more often. “Bruce, I feel full. Complete with you in there.”
“Shut up.” Bruce growled as he set Clark’s knees on his shoulders.
“You don’t mean that, you love my voice, you love that I talk and you don’t.” Clark knew his brain wasn’t working at full speed, but could only care about what Bruce was doing to him. Loving him at long last, while Clark slowly spoke. “You love me, you love me, you love that I just invented a game.”
“Whatever! I’m busy.”
“Every time I say love, you aim for my prostate, okay love?”
“Are you high?” Bruce asked, but he kept moving, sliding out, pushing in.
“High on love, that was perfect aim Bruce! I mean love, my love with the fantastic aim, my love who loves me! Faster love, deeper love, harder love, you’ve got me hard again and I love it!”
“S-show of-ff.” Bruce muttered, stuttering a little as he increased his speed, thrusting fully into Clark with each snap of his hips.
“Tell me Bruce, love, tell me when you’re close, I want to feel it, to feel everything!” Clark’s right leg fell off Bruce’s shoulder, but Bruce ignored it. Clark forced his eyes to Bruce’s face, saw the sweat trails and wide eyes, saw all of Bruce’s focus was on him. “Hotter than the fucking sun!”
Bruce looked up at the cuss word in Clark’s voice so Clark saw the moment Bruce fell apart, and fell with him. This time, there was nothing to prevent Clark from taking his time returning to reality.
“Hey!” Bruce’s shout came with a slap on the thigh. “Don’t fall asleep until you let me out.”
Clark blinked his eyes open, to see a very cross Bruce squashed to Clark’s pelvis by his crossed legs. Clark laughed, not regretting being pulled back into this reality. Another slap on his thigh, and Clark let Bruce out, just long enough to pull him down to Clark’s chest.
“So all I had to do was get you to laugh at me?”
“Your therapy helped. A little.”
“A teeny tiny bit?”
“Use that phrase again and I’ll retract the statement.”
“Bruce has a teeny tiny heart but it’s totally in love with me!”
“That’s it, you’re no help.”
“Bruce has teeny tiny heart but ginormous penis?”
“That’s better.”
“Bruce has a cock the size of Florida but that’s totally all mine too!”
“That’s it, I’m going home.”
“You are home, at least until I decide you can go back to terrorizing Gotham.”
“You think you can keep me against my will?”
“Um, I hope?”
“Exactly.”
“So smug! Yet I haven’t noticed you moving, so leaving was an empty threat.”
“Computer, list contents of hanger.”
“One craft, listed as Batwing.” The AI’s emotionless voice was still on the word wing when Clark flipped them over, pinning Bruce’s hands over his head.
Bruce just gave him a smug grin, daring Clark to ask how and when he got the Batwing to the Fortress.
“I have a hanger?”
“Moron!” Bruce rolled his eyes, but the love was still shining through. “Did you never ask to see the Fortress blueprints?”
“The AI could never understand what I meant!”
“Structural schematics.”
“I tried that.”
“In Kryptonian?”
“That wouldn’t help you, unless you’ve learned Kryptonian?”
It was a joke, but Bruce’s smile wasn’t humorous.
“Seriously?”
Bruce wagged his eyebrows.
“Seriously?” Clark repeated, this time with more wonder then curiosity.
What did you think I was doing on your computer, playing games?”
I hoped you were watching porn.
That was what you were for.
“Fair enough.” Clark thought about the things Bruce had done to get his private porn show. “Bruce?”
“Clark?”
“I’m going to make love to you now.”
“I should hope so.”
Clark rewarded that with a kiss, letting their tongues duel until Clark was fully hard. “Then we’ll do it on the Batwing, since I’ve always wanted to try that.”
“It is very sexy.” Bruce agreed as he watched Clark lube his fingers and cock.
Clark held his response until his first finger was buried in Bruce. “And then, all those naughty things you said to me?”
“Yes?”
“You’re going to repeat them, in Kryptonian.” A second finger was a tight fit, but with a little help from super eyes, it found just the right spot to make most men agreeable.
“I am?” Bruce pushed down, looking for more than twisting fingers and seductive words.
“Yes,” Clark said as if it was a known fact. His third finger had Bruce nice and lose before he continued. “You’ll say them as I do them to you.”
“Sounds fair.”
Clark slid into Bruce, relishing a moment of perfect agreement between them. Bruce’s rules had been broken and Bruce had borne the consequences. But love had mended him, love being the one thing Clark would never run out of. Rules could be broken, but not his Bruce, and not their love.
Author: Trista_zevkia
Chapter: 5/5
Fandom: Batman/Superman
Characters/Pairing: Clark/Bruce
Rating: PG-17
Warnings: SLASH
Summary: When Batman says to stay out of his city, you really should listen!
Disclaimer: All monies made will be sent to Wayne Enterprise approved Charities
Author's Notes:
Once upon a time, there was a flood in New Zealand. Many have moved on, but my lazy butt and broken wrist are just now getting around to fulfilling my part. For Darke_wulf kindness about the time, I’m tossing in a few extra words. It has nothing to do with my inability to follow guidelines
; )
Chapter 4
Clark’s elderly neighbor was on the apartment elevator when he got done for the day, and he was required by Boy Scout law to help her with her groceries. If she talked so long the Bruce lost interest and went back to attempting to rewrite the programming on the Fortress’s AI, that wasn’t Clark’s fault. It was Clark’s fault that he could tell the Fortress’s AI what to do in an email, but he thought Batman would approve of that measure, just in case it was needed to save the world someday. Clark hadn’t planned on using it to annoy and/or seduce anybody, but he wasn’t afraid to try something new!
Clark unloaded his groceries and changed clothes while Bruce sat and worked on an invisible computer. Nobody could multitask like Bruce, but when all his concentration was on something, it was intense to watch. Bruce finally looked up, with suspicious eyes, when Clark spoke in Kryptonian. “Initiate program: dinner date.”
“I don’t know what you have in mind, but I feel underdressed.”
“You like the tux then?”
“I have two like it.”
“Probably why Alfred recommended it to me.”
“Stop trying to steal my butler.”
“I’m just borrowing his fashion advice.”
“He ordered one that actually fits you, unlike most of Kent’s clothes.”
“You just said I have a nice body. I’ve never heard such high praise from you!”
“Get naked and maybe I’ll think of something nicer to say.”
“Don’t be such a tease, Bruce! One spark of genuine lust from you, and my sonic boom will break every window from here to there.”
Bruce looked away, embarrassed that his body wasn’t responding that way.
Clark was really glad he hadn’t told Bruce about the medical readings that continuously floated above Bruce’s head. Bruce didn’t need to know just how closely Clark was watching his reactions to things, or how the halo of readings made Bruce angelically beautiful. “Follow the robot Bruce, we’re going out for supper.”
As if in apology for his emotions, Bruce followed the robot without complaint. Bruce was led to a room with only one piece of furniture. Bruce gave Clark a suspicious look before checking the lounging couch for hidden devices.
Clark found himself babbling as Bruce looked. “I tried to explain to the AI that it was the kind of couch ancient Romans lounge about on in all those movies, but it gave me a very polite ‘says you’ back. Had to find measurements and pictures online for the AI to figure it out. The AI’s knows almost everything about Krypton and Earth, but it still has trouble making some connections.”
“Want me to fix that for you?” Bruce asked as he settled onto the couch, but he stretched and got comfortable in just the right way to make Clark forget the question.
When Bruce was still, Clark thanked all the gods for his photographic memory. The robot had returned with a tray of the foods Clark had selected, so Clark found his words. ”Phase two.”
The lights went off and stars were projected into the dark room. While Bruce was adjusting to supper in space, the AI synchronized Clark’s image with the robot. Now when Clark picked a cherry from his plate, the robot picked a cherry. When Bruce looked at the movement, his fear response told Clark that Bruce was seeing his hologram manipulated solid objects. Bruce’s strong hands curled around the edges of the couch as the cherry was held before his lips. There was hesitation, and time for the medical readout to show Bruce calming down, before his lips opened.
Accepting the invitation, Clark began to feed Bruce. Finger foods and bits of fruit slowly began to trail over exposed skin before being offered to Bruce. As Bruce chewed the food given to him by the disguised robot, Clark would eat the piece in his hand. After a particularly juicy bite of fruit left a trail down Bruce’s chest and stomach, Clark saw the flaw in his plan: the robot didn’t have a tongue.
It must have shown on his face, for Bruce grabbed another piece. Bruce dragged it further down himself then Clark had dared, along muscular thighs. Bruce got it back to his mouth, and sucked the juice out of it. The noise he made sucking on it covered the sound of Clark’s fly opening, but Bruce still noticed.
Bruce gave Clark a new look and started moving before Clark found the word to describe that look. Moving the food tray until Clark’s erection was on it, Bruce knelt to eat off of it. “Evil Bruce! You’re evil!”
Bruce looked up, the tip of Clark’s cock half an inch from his moist lips. “Maybe just a little evil.”
Evil Bruce dropped his head for more licentious eating. Clark was left with only his hand and the image of Bruce’s head noisily working down there. It was enough. Enough for now, anyway.
sBSbBs
Clark soon found he could masturbate to anything Bruce did, the problem was trying not to let Bruce know that! Bruce, gloriously naked, working through his complex and rigorous physical regime? Hot. Bruce focused and intense while he worked on the computer? Nerdy and hot. Bruce meditating, running through mental exercises as old as the human race? Nerdy and metaphysically hot enough to inflame the most physical aspect of a man. Bruce and his mind games on Clark? Nerdy and hot as a solar flare. Bruce when he was actively trying to turn Clark on? Hotter than the sun, and Clark knew that for a fact!
Maybe it started out as revenge or a game, but Bruce still meant to win. Bruce catalogued every tiny thing that Clark enjoyed, and found ways to use them to drive Clark half crazy. Dirty talk made Clark perk up a bit? Them every time Clark was alone, Bruce was there, whispering wicked things in his ears. A day of this, and Clark made sure he was only alone when he had time to jerk off.
And maybe Clark would occasionally put his erection in Bruce’s hand as a hello. It wasn’t Clark’s fault that working with invisible crystals put Bruce’s hands in the perfect position for a hand job! It was Bruce’s fault that Clark was developing an exhibitionist streak, that much was for certain. Bruce was always turning Clark on, so Clark was trying to return the favor. Bruce wasn’t responding, so Clark was trying new things when he masturbated; pinching, slapping, squeezing, spreading, floating, anything he could think of to keep Bruce’s attention on him.
As much as he was taking things into his own hands, (as Clark thought of it because he couldn’t even think of sexual things anymore without Bruce’s voice saying them in his head and making him need some alone with Bruce time) Clark thought he should have been more relaxed. Instead, he could turn coal to diamonds with his butt cheeks! He had Lois convinced he had developed claustrophobia, as he needed a partner to go to the supply closet. And trying to get a group to shower after a particularly messy JL operation hadn’t won him any favors there. Flash suggested a water fight and GL asked if Clark needed the infirmary. Only J’onn had understood, and he was about as close to laughing as he ever got!
Clark feared the point of this thing was getting lost in his lust. He loved Bruce more than ever, but Bruce wasn’t ready to be in the same room as the real Clark yet. Any spikes in Bruce’s readings didn’t come with the desirable redirection of blood flow.
Erection, Bruce’s voice echoed in Clark’s brain. Pitching a tent, hoping you’ll help me with it.
Yeah, Clark thought, I’m so screwed I should at least get some actual screwing out of it!
Fucking, Clark. Come on, say it with me, do it with me!
“Clark, you’re so big and strong. Would you go get me a ream of paper?” A real voice, trying to allure Clark.
“Sure, Kitty.” Clark agreed before he quite got his head away from imaginary Bruce’s words, so imaginary Bruce didn’t stop talking.
You want to ream my ass, don’t you? Pin me under you and pound into me until I break?”
Clark closed his eyes and leaned on the door behind him, until a steady inhalation told him he wasn’t alone. Opening his eyes was a mistake, as Bruce was the only well lit thing in the supply closet. He was in some weird yoga pose that rested all his weight on his left hand and the left side of his foot in a sideways t shape, but kept his back and ass to Clark. Floating silently forward, Clark searched his pockets for the tissues he’d taken to carrying around. Besides the poor cleaning crew, what would Bruce say about Clark leaving DNA everywhere?
Give it to me, all of it. I know what to do with your cum!
“Bruce!” It was a strained whisper, but it got the real Bruce to break his yoga pose and turn to face Clark. Not finding a tissue, Clark used the seconds to drop his pants; he could wipe up with his underwear and hopefully no one would notice.
“You’re always so happy to see me Clark.” The self satisfied smirk had Clark reaching for himself.
“Smallville!” Clark whirled at the call, forgetting Lois was in another room, forgetting he was in the crowded confines of the supply closet. His erection slammed into the metal shelves. Pain in his vulnerable area distracted him and grabbing for his unfastened pants kept him from stopping the shelves from falling. Behind him, Bruce was laughing but other people were heading for the supply closet. Pulling his pants up, Clark lay on his stomach. Embarrassment wilted away his erection, as he waited for the shelves to be removed from his back by concerned coworkers.
A half hour of trying to explain he had no idea what happened and he wasn’t hurt lead to an hour of signing paperwork that he wasn’t going to sue and Clark Kent was the official laughing stock of the paper again. When he saw someone else enter the men’s room, Clark excused himself from Perry and the lawyers. The presence of Jeff, the sports reporter, at the urinal kept Bruce from showing up but let Clark have a moment to think.
He needed to talk to Bruce, find out if this was working, see if he could release Bruce into the wilds of Gotham yet. Talk, the thing Bruce was using sex to distract him from, because Bruce hated talking. Clark was still trying to decide on how to make Bruce talk to him when Jeff left. Clark couldn’t help the disgusted noise he made when he realized Jeff left without washing his hands. Clark was immune to most diseases, but he still washed his hands!
“What was that?” Bruce asked.
Clark practiced not looking at Bruce as he replied, hoping it would prevent lust induced brain freeze. “Nothing. What are you doing?”
“Just adding a few recipes to the Fortress database.”
“The Fortress knows how to make all Earth foods, so you only have to update those files with preferred variations.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
There was amusement in Bruce’s tone, but the men’s room door opened before Clark could ask about it. Jimmy smiled when he saw Clark leaning against the sink.
“I think they want you back in the Chief’s office, but I’m not sure.”
“Why aren’t you sure, Jimmy?”
“He told me to ask if you’d fallen in.”
“I didn’t fall in the toilet, I might be that klutzy, but I’m too big anymore.” Giving Jimmy a pat on the shoulder as he walked by, headed for Perry’s office.
While the lawyer talked, Clark considered Bruce. He hadn’t complained about the food before, so why this sudden interest in recipes? He’d been amused at something, maybe at Clark’s assumption it was a recipe for food? What other kinds of things had recipes? Making food was kind of like mixing basic ingredient like molecules or chemicals, did chemists call them recipes? Bruce was very good at chemistry…
“Kent! Are you coming down with something? You look green!”
“I might be a little sick to my stomach, Chief.”
“Don’t call me chief, and take the afternoon off.”
“I’ll do that, thank you!” Clark stood, and got a mental image of Bruce with a Kryptonian chemistry set. “Maybe tomorrow too, Chief?”
“Only if you don’t sue, now get out of here.”
Clark did get out of there; a tiny bit quicker then was humanly possible. He managed to keep from hitting sonic speeds by watching Bruce taste samples of whatever he’d made. Clark decided if he ever had to do anything like this again, he’d find a way to see what Bruce was interacting with! A very smug Bruce carried something as he walked through the Fortress, and Clark went sonic over a remote area of Canada.
“I’m in my room, Clark.” Smug, evil and devious Bruce said as he sprawled across a flat surface.
Clark still slowed down as he entered the Fortress, out of trepidation over what Bruce had planned. Bruce was in his room and the AI shut off the holograms as they got into the same room at long last. “Bruce, what are you up to?”
“So suspicious! I’d say it was about time, but you only ever seem suspicious of me.”
“If you were evil, I’d have some idea of how to deal with you!”
Bruce smirked at that, and pulled a small jar out from under his pillow. “You keep thinking that, Superman. But as I’m not evil, tell me what you think of my concoction.”
Hesitantly, Clark moved closer to the bed. Bruce’s readings were all over the place, but he wasn’t pulling back from Clark. With one finger, Clark got the tiniest amount he could from the jar. A deep sniff only told him it would be odorless to humans, so Clark touched his finger to his tongue. More confused than ever, Clark resorted to asking. “Cherry and coconut jelly?”
“Close, farm-boy.” Bruce stood to hold the jar in his left hand and in front of Clark. Keeping his hand there Bruce walked around until he was behind Clark. Bruce’s right hand completed the circle by coming around to work Clark’s belt.
The physical response that had stayed away out of concern for what Bruce was up to came back instantly. Bruce touched it, Clark’s erection, and Clark had to pull on reserves of strength he didn’t know he had to think. “Don’t tease, you need to heal!”
“Haven’t you ever heard of the healing power of laughter? One of my enemies told me about it.” Bruce’s hand started stroking and Clark forgot to ask if it was the Joker. Then Bruce hugged Clark, his left hand holding the jar to Clark’s chest, the right fighting to get to Clark’s erection, and something else rubbing against the cleft of Clark’s ass.
Clark broke free of the hug to spin around and look. “Bruce, you’re hard!”
“Excellent observational skills. Now get naked so I can use the lube I made.”
The wiggling jar brought Clark away from his staring, and he sped out of his clothes.
“On the bed and spread ‘em.”
“Spread ‘em? What about romance and foreplay?” Clark protested even as he followed Bruce’s instructions.
“We’ve been doing foreplay since I danced for you.” Despite his words, Bruce was teasing Clark with light touches on his thighs. “I stretched but didn’t get to my workout, so I’ve got energy. Would you rather I use it on hand jobs or a proper fuck?”
“Since I’m already on my back with my legs spread, I guess I’ll go for a proper fucking.”
“Lazy fucker!”
Clark started to laugh, but a well lubed finger cut of his brain functioning. It was Bruce’s finger, so it wasn’t just stretching him, but exploring, searching for something. In, around and out, until a second finger joined it, and together they found a bundle of nerves.
“Bruce! There, more, now!”
“So damn tight, you’ll rip off my dick. I can fix that!” Bruce cut off Clark’s assurances of safety with a well lubed third finger and a hand on Clark’s cock.
Bruce knew what he was doing, having observed what Clark liked to do to himself. Clark was afraid the sensations would overwhelm him too soon, when he wanted this to last forever, so he needed to distract himself. Forcing his eyes to focus, Clark realized he could see their reflections on the crystal ceiling. Even still, he didn’t understand the appeal if mirrored ceilings, as Bruce now filled his every sense. Too much Bruce to fight against, and the very next bump against his prostate shoved Clark into completion!
Clark would have happily eased back into his body, luxuriating in post orgasmic bliss, but Bruce was still moving. The ceiling was too far away, so Clark lifted his head to see what Bruce was up to. Bruce saw him looking, and pulled his hand out with squelch. Clark thought he should protest, but Bruce was lubing his cock.
“Beautiful cock, so huge.”
“That’s right, you just lay there and relax.”
“Okay.” Resting on his elbows, Clark watched as Bruce entered him, slowly, steadily. Giving in to Bruce was easy, wonderful, he really should do it more often. “Bruce, I feel full. Complete with you in there.”
“Shut up.” Bruce growled as he set Clark’s knees on his shoulders.
“You don’t mean that, you love my voice, you love that I talk and you don’t.” Clark knew his brain wasn’t working at full speed, but could only care about what Bruce was doing to him. Loving him at long last, while Clark slowly spoke. “You love me, you love me, you love that I just invented a game.”
“Whatever! I’m busy.”
“Every time I say love, you aim for my prostate, okay love?”
“Are you high?” Bruce asked, but he kept moving, sliding out, pushing in.
“High on love, that was perfect aim Bruce! I mean love, my love with the fantastic aim, my love who loves me! Faster love, deeper love, harder love, you’ve got me hard again and I love it!”
“S-show of-ff.” Bruce muttered, stuttering a little as he increased his speed, thrusting fully into Clark with each snap of his hips.
“Tell me Bruce, love, tell me when you’re close, I want to feel it, to feel everything!” Clark’s right leg fell off Bruce’s shoulder, but Bruce ignored it. Clark forced his eyes to Bruce’s face, saw the sweat trails and wide eyes, saw all of Bruce’s focus was on him. “Hotter than the fucking sun!”
Bruce looked up at the cuss word in Clark’s voice so Clark saw the moment Bruce fell apart, and fell with him. This time, there was nothing to prevent Clark from taking his time returning to reality.
“Hey!” Bruce’s shout came with a slap on the thigh. “Don’t fall asleep until you let me out.”
Clark blinked his eyes open, to see a very cross Bruce squashed to Clark’s pelvis by his crossed legs. Clark laughed, not regretting being pulled back into this reality. Another slap on his thigh, and Clark let Bruce out, just long enough to pull him down to Clark’s chest.
“So all I had to do was get you to laugh at me?”
“Your therapy helped. A little.”
“A teeny tiny bit?”
“Use that phrase again and I’ll retract the statement.”
“Bruce has a teeny tiny heart but it’s totally in love with me!”
“That’s it, you’re no help.”
“Bruce has teeny tiny heart but ginormous penis?”
“That’s better.”
“Bruce has a cock the size of Florida but that’s totally all mine too!”
“That’s it, I’m going home.”
“You are home, at least until I decide you can go back to terrorizing Gotham.”
“You think you can keep me against my will?”
“Um, I hope?”
“Exactly.”
“So smug! Yet I haven’t noticed you moving, so leaving was an empty threat.”
“Computer, list contents of hanger.”
“One craft, listed as Batwing.” The AI’s emotionless voice was still on the word wing when Clark flipped them over, pinning Bruce’s hands over his head.
Bruce just gave him a smug grin, daring Clark to ask how and when he got the Batwing to the Fortress.
“I have a hanger?”
“Moron!” Bruce rolled his eyes, but the love was still shining through. “Did you never ask to see the Fortress blueprints?”
“The AI could never understand what I meant!”
“Structural schematics.”
“I tried that.”
“In Kryptonian?”
“That wouldn’t help you, unless you’ve learned Kryptonian?”
It was a joke, but Bruce’s smile wasn’t humorous.
“Seriously?”
Bruce wagged his eyebrows.
“Seriously?” Clark repeated, this time with more wonder then curiosity.
What did you think I was doing on your computer, playing games?”
I hoped you were watching porn.
That was what you were for.
“Fair enough.” Clark thought about the things Bruce had done to get his private porn show. “Bruce?”
“Clark?”
“I’m going to make love to you now.”
“I should hope so.”
Clark rewarded that with a kiss, letting their tongues duel until Clark was fully hard. “Then we’ll do it on the Batwing, since I’ve always wanted to try that.”
“It is very sexy.” Bruce agreed as he watched Clark lube his fingers and cock.
Clark held his response until his first finger was buried in Bruce. “And then, all those naughty things you said to me?”
“Yes?”
“You’re going to repeat them, in Kryptonian.” A second finger was a tight fit, but with a little help from super eyes, it found just the right spot to make most men agreeable.
“I am?” Bruce pushed down, looking for more than twisting fingers and seductive words.
“Yes,” Clark said as if it was a known fact. His third finger had Bruce nice and lose before he continued. “You’ll say them as I do them to you.”
“Sounds fair.”
Clark slid into Bruce, relishing a moment of perfect agreement between them. Bruce’s rules had been broken and Bruce had borne the consequences. But love had mended him, love being the one thing Clark would never run out of. Rules could be broken, but not his Bruce, and not their love.
