trista_zevkia (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
trista_zevkia) wrote2011-09-28 12:03 pm
trista_zevkia) wrote2011-09-28 12:03 pm
Entry tags:
Platonic, part 1
Title: Platonic
Author: Trista_zevkia
Chapter: 1/?
Fandom: Batman/Superman
Characters/Pairing: Clark/Bruce
Rating: PG-17
Warnings: SLASH
Summary: This one is because of Lady Black Rose and the writing analyzer she sent me. Online test said I wasn't a weird writer. I thought that was a challenge;)
Disclaimer: All monies made will be sent to Wayne Enterprise approved Charities
Author's Notes: This is a little series idea I've had for a while. Unrelated ways of getting Bruce and Clark to sex it up without being romantically involved, though I'm sure they'll get there in the end;)
Playing Doctor
Gathering his cell phone and winter coat, Clark checked for his wallet. Perfectly normal paranoia for the bumbling reporter, who was so very human. When his cell phone rang, he looked around to see whose it was before understanding dawned on him. Clark went to answer it, surprise flashing across his expressive face when he saw who was calling him. If he glanced at the security camera closest to the coat rack as he answered, it was purely accidental. No reason to think his caller might have hacked security footage just to see Clark’s reaction to what he had to say.
“Hello?”
“Clark! It’s your favorite headliner from Gotham.” The light, flippant voice had caused many opponents to think the man speaking had literally been fucked brainless at some point, probably in a bisexual orgy that most people wouldn’t even dare to dream about.
“Golly! It’s great to hear from you, Mr. Wayne.” Clark kept his voice low, knowing Lois would pounce on the name if she heard it. “What could I possibly do for you at this hour of the day?”
“I’m in Metropolis, standing on this balcony with a magnificent view of the city. I can even see the Daily Planet from here, so I thought about talking to my favorite reporter.”
“You’re doing business in Metropolis now? Uh, sir?” Clark turned away from the security camera, walking quickly for the stairs. As he began climbing up, he listened to Mr. Wayne’s reply.
“Not exactly, just cleaning up a mess from my social life. If you’d like to hear all about it, you could find me.”
“I’ll do that, Mr. Wayne.” A click told Clark his phone conversation was over, so he put the cell away as he walked onto the roof. Someone with exceptional eyes could see a man on a distant balcony. It was the only hotel with an unobstructed view of the Daily Planet, and the man on the balcony lowered his binoculars when he saw Clark lift off from the roof.
Clark didn’t bother changing clothes, just flew to the balcony as quick as he could. He probably knew Bruce as well as anybody on the planet, but anyone would have been nervous if Bruce showed up unexpectedly in their city. His party happy Brucie side was damaging enough, but that was his safest personality! Clark landed on the balcony, careful not to look like Superman as he did so. The heroic looking poses that came naturally to him always made Bruce laugh. Well, his lips twitched, which was the same thing to those who knew him.
“What’s wrong Bruce?”
Bruce held out a section of the Gotham Gazette, so Clark speed read the article under Brucie’s photo. Clayface had held up a charity party for cash and jewels. A window broke, and that’s where all the accounts of the night went sideways. Brucie, in one of his more articulate statements after a party, had been quoted as saying. “It was totally whoa!”
“Thought you captured Clayface the next night.” Clark said, folding up the newspaper. Bruce was leaning on the balcony doorframe, staring out over Metropolis. He’d still managed to find a shadow to stand in, and Clark forced the grin off his face.
“I did.” Bruce informed the world at large.
“So, what don’t I know?”
“Clayface took a shortcut to the party, through the park.”
“Ah.” Clark wasn’t as stupid as people thought. Anything in green in Gotham, even the park, had a very special, and psychotic, protector. “I take it he crushed some flowers?”
“Peed on a tree, just before entering the gala.”
“Poison Ivy took exception to his actions, and followed him in.”
“Broke a window, throwing in an apple-like fruit filled with lust gas.”
“So the reports don’t match, because the old fogies don’t want to admit what they got up to.”
“Fortunately, they were so wrapped up in their own lust, they missed what the rest of the world was doing.”
“And what were you doing, Bruce?”
“A couple of Molotov cocktails on the lawn kept Ivy busy and got the attention of the groundskeeper, who called 911.”
“Fire? Fire can burn out of control, it’s not like you to used it around lust addled civilians.”
“I was busy, distracting Clayface.”
“Wasn’t he effected by the gas?”
“Yes, very much so.”
“So how were…” Clark stopped, reaching the only conclusion he could. Bruce wouldn’t put civilians at risk, even from a little unwanted sexual attention. “You distracted Clayface?”
“Thank you for not making me spell that part out.”
“There’s more?” Clark couldn’t help the shock in his voice. What a thing to admit to! And it was only part one?
Bruce let his head rest on the doorframe, with a heavy thunk. “You think I called you up just to brag about sex with Clayface?”
“Well, not when you say it like that.” Clark shrugged, looking at Bruce’s back. “So, what else?”
“He was very effected by the lust dust.”
“You said that.”
“He was eager, and insistent, with my date in his sights. I was distracting him from her, and I knew from samples of him that he was resistant to most human diseases.”
“Still not getting it.” Clark thought his brain was trying to protect him getting it, like repressing a memory before it was a memory.
Bruce turned to better frown at the dense farmboy. “I put a condom on him, and he grew another penis. Said it was bareback or he’d go for my date, whose ass was in the air as she ate out another woman.”
Clark’s face flushed to a bright red, as he searched for something to say. Hopefully something as clinical and detached as Bruce talking about this orgy. “Did you get something, a VD?”
“Venereal disease? I don’t think they’ve called it that since World War II. But no, I’ve tested myself and Clayface after I captured him.” Bruce rubbed at his neck, looking at the carpet as he spoke. “What I got is little bits of clay sperm squirted into my ass, a place without natural lubricant. They dried out up there, blocking my backdoor.”
Clark’s blush was crimson when Bruce looked back up, after a long silence.
At the look, Clark worked for his words. “Are you in Metropolis to see a special doctor?”
“Really? You think there’s a doctor on this planet who specializes in removing clay from rectums?”
“Not clay specifically, but some sort of doctor.”
“There are fantastic proctologists in Gotham, and Brucie can afford to have specialists flown to him. If he’s willing to spend days or weeks off duty to recuperate.”
“I get that you don’t take time off. Just not getting why you’re telling me.”
“Clark, I’ve seen you increase the speed of your metabolism to generate heat, to save freezing people.”
“Yeah, I can do that.”
“Can you also increase the temperature of your ejaculate?”
Clark thought his Adam’s apple had moved up to block off his throat, as he lost the ability to swallow. He had to open his mouth to breathe around the lump in his throat. “C-could you spell that out for me?”
“You are STD free. So I want you, Clark, to fuck me in the ass. Repeatedly, without a condom, until I am able to expel wastes from my body, something I haven’t done for going on three days now.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“Come on Clark! I’d have to be in the hospital for days while they figure out how to scrape it out. Then, I’ve got to come up with a cover story, because the truth will get me the wrong kind of press. How is Brucie going to explain that he wasn’t as deeply effected by the lust dust because he’s been repeatedly exposed to it during his nighttime activities?”
“It’s all good in theory, and you know I live to help! But, sex, with you?”
“Close your eyes and think of it as an experiment in metabolism manipulation.”
“So not sexy.” Clark closed his eyes and shook his head. He knew there was no way to get out of one of Bruce’s plans, so he reached for his tie.
Bare feet on a deep carpet didn’t make a sound humans could hear, and then other hands were helping remove Clark’s clothes. Rough hands, trained to pulverize bad guys, pulling on clothes as delicately as they worked on bomb wires. They reached naked flesh, and stroked Clark’s chest. Clark worked to suppress his erection. Just because he’d agreed to this plan didn’t mean he was going along easily! Those hands were back on his clothes, opening his pants and sliding them down. Clark’s boxers were pushed down and Bruce stroked Clark’s cock once, before speaking.
“Step out of your pants. Lay on the bed, cock up.” Bruce regularly gave orders, but they both knew he never gave them in that voice. “I’ll do all the work, you just think of whatever gets you off.”
Clark did as instructed, watching as Bruce turned away to pull of his pants. He wasn’t wearing underwear and left his t-shirt on. Bruce was embarrassed by his scars! Clark marveled that Bruce could speak about sex like a robot, but be embarrassed by the proof of his selfless efforts. When Bruce turned his half naked body to Clark, Clark forgot to think. Bruce was already erect, hard cock bouncing as he moved to the bed. He picked up a tube from the bedside table, squeezing some into his hands as he turned to Clark.
Bruce eyed Clark’s erection, and figured he’d found something that worked for him. “Don’t look at me. Keep your thoughts on Lois, or Diana, or both. Whatever. Just close your eyes, think about their hands touching you this way, and warming up your sperm so it’s hotter than human body temperature.”
Clark snorted a laugh, and kept his eyes open. He really expected Bruce to be better at sexy talk, but before he could say so, Bruce touched his cock. Twisting movements from the base to the top, spreading slickness as he went, Bruce prepped Clark.
“Oh, that’s nice.”
“Nice?” Bruce asked, moving down to lube Clark’s balls. “I must be out of practice.”
Clark picked his head up, about to ask when Bruce had done this before. But Bruce was kneeling on the bed, leaning back on his left hand. His right hand was at his ass, pulling something from inside him. It wasn’t until Bruce tossed the object on the bed that Clark understood it was a butt plug. Bruce, the real boy scout, always had to be prepared, even inserting a butt plug himself to be ready when Clark was. Clark was just glad he wasn’t trying to hide his erection anymore, not from the world’s greatest detective!
Bruce threw a leg over Clark, and grabbed Clark’s cock. Clark couldn’t blink, couldn’t move any part of him or he’d be pushing up into Bruce in desperation. Thankfully, Bruce wasn’t wasting time, sliding Clark’s cock into him. He rested for a moment, once he was sitting on Clark.
Clark reached for Bruce’s cock, intending to help Bruce enjoy this. A hand caught his wrist, and Bruce pushed his hand down to the sheets.
“Since I’m forcing you to do this, I’ll do all the work.”
“B…” Clark wasn’t even sure what he was going to say, but Bruce moved before they could find out.
Bruce rode Clark with the same precision he’d do any exercise, so Clark closed his eyes. The image behind his eyes wasn’t any of the beautiful women Clark knew. It was Bruce, giving himself joyfully to Clark. It was gorgeous, and Clark started thrusting into Bruce, meeting him with a loud smack. Smiling into the sound, Clark felt a drop of fluid hit his stomach. Clark took a deep breath, smelling Bruce’s arousal and precum.
Bruce might claim this was a medical experiment, but he’d been instantly hard when Clark agreed. Now he was close to coming, without having his dick touched, Bruce was so affected! Clark decided to cheat, looking through his own eyelids at his partner. Bruce was looking at Clark, unable to hide how good he was feeling. His face was slack, but his knuckles were white with how tight Bruce was gripping his own knees. He wanted to touch, and Clark needed to give him permission.
“Bruce.” The soft word, the beginning of a sentence pushed Bruce into coming. His face twitched as if in great pain, eyes rolling back as he clenched around Clark. Clark held onto the image of Bruce losing control, even as his orgasm rolled his eyes into his head.
Clark fought it, but returned to his body all too soon. It wasn’t as bad as he expected, as his body was holding Bruce to it. Clark let himself smile, but no other movement. He wanted this to last, and knew it would last exactly half a second after Bruce’s brain got back online.
A moment later, and Bruce stiffened before sitting up. A look around and Bruce climbed off of Clark, beginning to move around the bed. Picking up Clark’s clothes, hanging them neatly over the back of a chair, he spoke.
“So it might take repeated applications. You’ve never told me how quickly you can get it up after cuming, but I figured you could do it again during your lunch hour. Maybe a quickie between work and patrol, or during lulls in patrol. What do you think?”
“I think I should wait until you’re ready for round two.”
“It’s not about my dick, it’s about my ass.”
“The two aren’t connected?”
“Funny. The sooner you get the clay out of my ass, the sooner I’m out of your way.”
“I think I’m going to use my afternoon to interview you. That way I can repeatedly apply your treatment.”
“I don’t have anything to say to the press.”
“Sure you do!”
“Like what?”
“My name, screamed as you cum.”
“You want that?” Bruce stopped moving, staring at his friend. Clark was such an innocent, he couldn’t know how that sounded. If he thought this was more than sex, Bruce would put a stop to this right now.
Clark could smell Bruce starting to sweat, and thought he was making Bruce uncomfortable. If he was too emotional, Batman would emerge. A joke then, something Bruce could make fun of him for. “Come play doctor, and I’ll show you how badly I want it.”
“Doctor Kent?”
“Yes?”
“Fuck you.”
“Yes please.”
Bruce laughed, a real laugh coming from his throat and chest. It made Clark hard, which made Bruce smug. Just for that, Clark lowered the temperature of his ejaculate, ensuring extra applications.
“Come here patient zero, your shot’s ready.”
“Yes Doctor Kent.”
sBSbBs
Author: Trista_zevkia
Chapter: 1/?
Fandom: Batman/Superman
Characters/Pairing: Clark/Bruce
Rating: PG-17
Warnings: SLASH
Summary: This one is because of Lady Black Rose and the writing analyzer she sent me. Online test said I wasn't a weird writer. I thought that was a challenge;)
Disclaimer: All monies made will be sent to Wayne Enterprise approved Charities
Author's Notes: This is a little series idea I've had for a while. Unrelated ways of getting Bruce and Clark to sex it up without being romantically involved, though I'm sure they'll get there in the end;)
Playing Doctor
Gathering his cell phone and winter coat, Clark checked for his wallet. Perfectly normal paranoia for the bumbling reporter, who was so very human. When his cell phone rang, he looked around to see whose it was before understanding dawned on him. Clark went to answer it, surprise flashing across his expressive face when he saw who was calling him. If he glanced at the security camera closest to the coat rack as he answered, it was purely accidental. No reason to think his caller might have hacked security footage just to see Clark’s reaction to what he had to say.
“Hello?”
“Clark! It’s your favorite headliner from Gotham.” The light, flippant voice had caused many opponents to think the man speaking had literally been fucked brainless at some point, probably in a bisexual orgy that most people wouldn’t even dare to dream about.
“Golly! It’s great to hear from you, Mr. Wayne.” Clark kept his voice low, knowing Lois would pounce on the name if she heard it. “What could I possibly do for you at this hour of the day?”
“I’m in Metropolis, standing on this balcony with a magnificent view of the city. I can even see the Daily Planet from here, so I thought about talking to my favorite reporter.”
“You’re doing business in Metropolis now? Uh, sir?” Clark turned away from the security camera, walking quickly for the stairs. As he began climbing up, he listened to Mr. Wayne’s reply.
“Not exactly, just cleaning up a mess from my social life. If you’d like to hear all about it, you could find me.”
“I’ll do that, Mr. Wayne.” A click told Clark his phone conversation was over, so he put the cell away as he walked onto the roof. Someone with exceptional eyes could see a man on a distant balcony. It was the only hotel with an unobstructed view of the Daily Planet, and the man on the balcony lowered his binoculars when he saw Clark lift off from the roof.
Clark didn’t bother changing clothes, just flew to the balcony as quick as he could. He probably knew Bruce as well as anybody on the planet, but anyone would have been nervous if Bruce showed up unexpectedly in their city. His party happy Brucie side was damaging enough, but that was his safest personality! Clark landed on the balcony, careful not to look like Superman as he did so. The heroic looking poses that came naturally to him always made Bruce laugh. Well, his lips twitched, which was the same thing to those who knew him.
“What’s wrong Bruce?”
Bruce held out a section of the Gotham Gazette, so Clark speed read the article under Brucie’s photo. Clayface had held up a charity party for cash and jewels. A window broke, and that’s where all the accounts of the night went sideways. Brucie, in one of his more articulate statements after a party, had been quoted as saying. “It was totally whoa!”
“Thought you captured Clayface the next night.” Clark said, folding up the newspaper. Bruce was leaning on the balcony doorframe, staring out over Metropolis. He’d still managed to find a shadow to stand in, and Clark forced the grin off his face.
“I did.” Bruce informed the world at large.
“So, what don’t I know?”
“Clayface took a shortcut to the party, through the park.”
“Ah.” Clark wasn’t as stupid as people thought. Anything in green in Gotham, even the park, had a very special, and psychotic, protector. “I take it he crushed some flowers?”
“Peed on a tree, just before entering the gala.”
“Poison Ivy took exception to his actions, and followed him in.”
“Broke a window, throwing in an apple-like fruit filled with lust gas.”
“So the reports don’t match, because the old fogies don’t want to admit what they got up to.”
“Fortunately, they were so wrapped up in their own lust, they missed what the rest of the world was doing.”
“And what were you doing, Bruce?”
“A couple of Molotov cocktails on the lawn kept Ivy busy and got the attention of the groundskeeper, who called 911.”
“Fire? Fire can burn out of control, it’s not like you to used it around lust addled civilians.”
“I was busy, distracting Clayface.”
“Wasn’t he effected by the gas?”
“Yes, very much so.”
“So how were…” Clark stopped, reaching the only conclusion he could. Bruce wouldn’t put civilians at risk, even from a little unwanted sexual attention. “You distracted Clayface?”
“Thank you for not making me spell that part out.”
“There’s more?” Clark couldn’t help the shock in his voice. What a thing to admit to! And it was only part one?
Bruce let his head rest on the doorframe, with a heavy thunk. “You think I called you up just to brag about sex with Clayface?”
“Well, not when you say it like that.” Clark shrugged, looking at Bruce’s back. “So, what else?”
“He was very effected by the lust dust.”
“You said that.”
“He was eager, and insistent, with my date in his sights. I was distracting him from her, and I knew from samples of him that he was resistant to most human diseases.”
“Still not getting it.” Clark thought his brain was trying to protect him getting it, like repressing a memory before it was a memory.
Bruce turned to better frown at the dense farmboy. “I put a condom on him, and he grew another penis. Said it was bareback or he’d go for my date, whose ass was in the air as she ate out another woman.”
Clark’s face flushed to a bright red, as he searched for something to say. Hopefully something as clinical and detached as Bruce talking about this orgy. “Did you get something, a VD?”
“Venereal disease? I don’t think they’ve called it that since World War II. But no, I’ve tested myself and Clayface after I captured him.” Bruce rubbed at his neck, looking at the carpet as he spoke. “What I got is little bits of clay sperm squirted into my ass, a place without natural lubricant. They dried out up there, blocking my backdoor.”
Clark’s blush was crimson when Bruce looked back up, after a long silence.
At the look, Clark worked for his words. “Are you in Metropolis to see a special doctor?”
“Really? You think there’s a doctor on this planet who specializes in removing clay from rectums?”
“Not clay specifically, but some sort of doctor.”
“There are fantastic proctologists in Gotham, and Brucie can afford to have specialists flown to him. If he’s willing to spend days or weeks off duty to recuperate.”
“I get that you don’t take time off. Just not getting why you’re telling me.”
“Clark, I’ve seen you increase the speed of your metabolism to generate heat, to save freezing people.”
“Yeah, I can do that.”
“Can you also increase the temperature of your ejaculate?”
Clark thought his Adam’s apple had moved up to block off his throat, as he lost the ability to swallow. He had to open his mouth to breathe around the lump in his throat. “C-could you spell that out for me?”
“You are STD free. So I want you, Clark, to fuck me in the ass. Repeatedly, without a condom, until I am able to expel wastes from my body, something I haven’t done for going on three days now.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“Come on Clark! I’d have to be in the hospital for days while they figure out how to scrape it out. Then, I’ve got to come up with a cover story, because the truth will get me the wrong kind of press. How is Brucie going to explain that he wasn’t as deeply effected by the lust dust because he’s been repeatedly exposed to it during his nighttime activities?”
“It’s all good in theory, and you know I live to help! But, sex, with you?”
“Close your eyes and think of it as an experiment in metabolism manipulation.”
“So not sexy.” Clark closed his eyes and shook his head. He knew there was no way to get out of one of Bruce’s plans, so he reached for his tie.
Bare feet on a deep carpet didn’t make a sound humans could hear, and then other hands were helping remove Clark’s clothes. Rough hands, trained to pulverize bad guys, pulling on clothes as delicately as they worked on bomb wires. They reached naked flesh, and stroked Clark’s chest. Clark worked to suppress his erection. Just because he’d agreed to this plan didn’t mean he was going along easily! Those hands were back on his clothes, opening his pants and sliding them down. Clark’s boxers were pushed down and Bruce stroked Clark’s cock once, before speaking.
“Step out of your pants. Lay on the bed, cock up.” Bruce regularly gave orders, but they both knew he never gave them in that voice. “I’ll do all the work, you just think of whatever gets you off.”
Clark did as instructed, watching as Bruce turned away to pull of his pants. He wasn’t wearing underwear and left his t-shirt on. Bruce was embarrassed by his scars! Clark marveled that Bruce could speak about sex like a robot, but be embarrassed by the proof of his selfless efforts. When Bruce turned his half naked body to Clark, Clark forgot to think. Bruce was already erect, hard cock bouncing as he moved to the bed. He picked up a tube from the bedside table, squeezing some into his hands as he turned to Clark.
Bruce eyed Clark’s erection, and figured he’d found something that worked for him. “Don’t look at me. Keep your thoughts on Lois, or Diana, or both. Whatever. Just close your eyes, think about their hands touching you this way, and warming up your sperm so it’s hotter than human body temperature.”
Clark snorted a laugh, and kept his eyes open. He really expected Bruce to be better at sexy talk, but before he could say so, Bruce touched his cock. Twisting movements from the base to the top, spreading slickness as he went, Bruce prepped Clark.
“Oh, that’s nice.”
“Nice?” Bruce asked, moving down to lube Clark’s balls. “I must be out of practice.”
Clark picked his head up, about to ask when Bruce had done this before. But Bruce was kneeling on the bed, leaning back on his left hand. His right hand was at his ass, pulling something from inside him. It wasn’t until Bruce tossed the object on the bed that Clark understood it was a butt plug. Bruce, the real boy scout, always had to be prepared, even inserting a butt plug himself to be ready when Clark was. Clark was just glad he wasn’t trying to hide his erection anymore, not from the world’s greatest detective!
Bruce threw a leg over Clark, and grabbed Clark’s cock. Clark couldn’t blink, couldn’t move any part of him or he’d be pushing up into Bruce in desperation. Thankfully, Bruce wasn’t wasting time, sliding Clark’s cock into him. He rested for a moment, once he was sitting on Clark.
Clark reached for Bruce’s cock, intending to help Bruce enjoy this. A hand caught his wrist, and Bruce pushed his hand down to the sheets.
“Since I’m forcing you to do this, I’ll do all the work.”
“B…” Clark wasn’t even sure what he was going to say, but Bruce moved before they could find out.
Bruce rode Clark with the same precision he’d do any exercise, so Clark closed his eyes. The image behind his eyes wasn’t any of the beautiful women Clark knew. It was Bruce, giving himself joyfully to Clark. It was gorgeous, and Clark started thrusting into Bruce, meeting him with a loud smack. Smiling into the sound, Clark felt a drop of fluid hit his stomach. Clark took a deep breath, smelling Bruce’s arousal and precum.
Bruce might claim this was a medical experiment, but he’d been instantly hard when Clark agreed. Now he was close to coming, without having his dick touched, Bruce was so affected! Clark decided to cheat, looking through his own eyelids at his partner. Bruce was looking at Clark, unable to hide how good he was feeling. His face was slack, but his knuckles were white with how tight Bruce was gripping his own knees. He wanted to touch, and Clark needed to give him permission.
“Bruce.” The soft word, the beginning of a sentence pushed Bruce into coming. His face twitched as if in great pain, eyes rolling back as he clenched around Clark. Clark held onto the image of Bruce losing control, even as his orgasm rolled his eyes into his head.
Clark fought it, but returned to his body all too soon. It wasn’t as bad as he expected, as his body was holding Bruce to it. Clark let himself smile, but no other movement. He wanted this to last, and knew it would last exactly half a second after Bruce’s brain got back online.
A moment later, and Bruce stiffened before sitting up. A look around and Bruce climbed off of Clark, beginning to move around the bed. Picking up Clark’s clothes, hanging them neatly over the back of a chair, he spoke.
“So it might take repeated applications. You’ve never told me how quickly you can get it up after cuming, but I figured you could do it again during your lunch hour. Maybe a quickie between work and patrol, or during lulls in patrol. What do you think?”
“I think I should wait until you’re ready for round two.”
“It’s not about my dick, it’s about my ass.”
“The two aren’t connected?”
“Funny. The sooner you get the clay out of my ass, the sooner I’m out of your way.”
“I think I’m going to use my afternoon to interview you. That way I can repeatedly apply your treatment.”
“I don’t have anything to say to the press.”
“Sure you do!”
“Like what?”
“My name, screamed as you cum.”
“You want that?” Bruce stopped moving, staring at his friend. Clark was such an innocent, he couldn’t know how that sounded. If he thought this was more than sex, Bruce would put a stop to this right now.
Clark could smell Bruce starting to sweat, and thought he was making Bruce uncomfortable. If he was too emotional, Batman would emerge. A joke then, something Bruce could make fun of him for. “Come play doctor, and I’ll show you how badly I want it.”
“Doctor Kent?”
“Yes?”
“Fuck you.”
“Yes please.”
Bruce laughed, a real laugh coming from his throat and chest. It made Clark hard, which made Bruce smug. Just for that, Clark lowered the temperature of his ejaculate, ensuring extra applications.
“Come here patient zero, your shot’s ready.”
“Yes Doctor Kent.”
sBSbBs