Chapter Text
Clark found Bruce's bedroom easily enough and was pleased to discover that the rest of the Manor was empty. He had dreaded bumping into Damian—or even worse, Alfred—as he'd wandered the halls, but thankfully, luck was on his side. Bruce's bedroom wasn't quite as grand as he'd feared, but the bed was as large and as comfortable as he'd hoped, and he found that his pulse started racing just at the sight of it.
Was he really going to get his hands on Bruce on that bed? They'd been dancing around this for years, and he could hardly believe that he was finally going to feel Bruce's skin against his own. Would Bruce be loud? What did he like? Would Bruce let him—
Clark stopped that train of thought. He was still hard from what had happened while they were fused together; he needed to calm down and relax, or this was going to be over before it began. He'd waited too long for it to be over that quickly. He sat on the edge of Bruce's bed, neatly arranged his cape, and tried not to bounce up and down to test the springs.
He had an excellent sense of time passing, and after twenty minutes of not-so-patiently waiting for Bruce, Clark started to worry. How long did it take to safely secure a Green Lantern ring and make it upstairs? Five minutes? Ten at the most? Where was Bruce? Had he changed his mind? Clark tried not to let his thoughts spiral, but he couldn't help it. Of course Bruce had changed his mind now that he'd had a few moments to calm down and think things through. It was naive of Clark to think that he'd finally get what he wanted most in life. Bruce was probably getting into the Batmobile right now, ready to head out into the Gotham night and never return to Clark.
Clark was so lost in his spiraling thoughts that he jumped slightly when the door to the bedroom opened. When Bruce walked in, smiling slightly and in plain black sweats instead of his Batsuit, Clark fell in love all over again.
"You changed," Clark said, gesturing to Bruce's clothes.
"That was one of the more armored and awkward Batsuits. I didn't want to risk eager hands damaging it."
Clark stood up, horrified. "Bruce, I would never lose control so much that I would damage you or your Batsuit."
Bruce closed the distance between them. He reached out to gently hold Clark's jaw and pull him into a kiss. "I know—I trust you. It wasn’t your hands I was worried about."
Any lingering doubts Clark had about whether Bruce really wanted this or not were destroyed by that sentence. Bruce really did want this. He wanted this so much that he was worried he would damage his own Batsuit in his eagerness. He'd sent Clark upstairs alone, not just to put away the ring, but to remove the Batsuit because he didn't trust himself to safely remove it if Clark was there.
"I love you," Clark blurted out without thinking.
Bruce dropped his hand from Clark's face, and just as Clark was both telling himself that it didn't matter if Bruce didn't say it back, and kicking himself for making the situation awkward, Bruce replied. "I love you, too. Now, let's get this—" he said, tugging gently at the collar of Clark's super suit, "off, shall we?"
"I'm not stopping you."
Bruce raised an eyebrow. "I don't suppose you are."
Bruce dipped his fingertips underneath the waistband of Clark's trunks and tights and quickly grabbed the hem of his top. In one swift motion, he pulled the shirt up and over Clark's head and threw it carelessly onto the floor, the attached cape fluttering to the ground as it fell. Bruce pulled down Clark's trunks and tights equally as quickly, but soon realized there was a problem—Clark was still wearing his boots.
Clark watched with a dry mouth as Bruce kneeled before him and carefully pulled off his red boots, one by one. Without the boots in the way, the trunks and tights were soon removed, leaving Clark standing naked before a still clothed and still kneeling Bruce.
"Well, this is quite a view," Bruce said, his hands grabbing onto Clark's thighs as he looked up the length of Clark's body. "I think I like this view even better than the ones you showed me of space."
Clark laughed, as Bruce had no doubt intended him to. "I doubt the view from down there is that impressive."
Bruce let go of one of Clark's thighs and instead wrapped his hand around Clark's cock. "Your cock is definitely impressive."
This time, Clark's laughter turned into a pleasured moan as Bruce's hand slid up and down. "After so many years of you avoiding any conversation about your feelings, I'm surprised at how vocal you're being."
Now it was Bruce's turn to laugh. "I'm like a dam, Clark. I take forever to crack, but when I do, it all comes rushing out."
They both laughed as Clark pulled Bruce to his feet and kissed him. They were still laughing when Clark led Bruce to the bed and stripped him. It was only when Bruce lay before him, naked, waiting, and flushed red from his cheeks to halfway down his scarred chest, that they both finally stopped laughing.
Clark had always known that Bruce was beautiful, but seeing him like this, with never-ending pale but damaged skin, spread out against pitch-black sheets, really made him realize exactly how beautiful he was. Now that he had Bruce, Clark didn't know where to start or what to do. It was overwhelming.
Bruce reached out, and Clark came to him, lying on top of Bruce to kiss him and feel as much skin against his own as he could. Clark could feel their hard cocks trapped between their bodies, and he rolled his hips down, dragging a groan out of Bruce that he was eager to hear again.
"Fuck me, Clark."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
Clark rolled his hips down one more time. "Okay."
Both of Bruce's hands were in Clark's hair as they kissed, but he let go with his left and reached out to the nightstand next to the bed. With Clark lying on top of him and Bruce showing no interest at all in breaking their kiss, all Bruce managed to do was slap the top of the nightstand a few times instead of finding whatever he was reaching for.
After Bruce accidentally knocked a bottle of painkillers onto the floor, Clark decided to step in. He grabbed Bruce's flailing hand and broke their kisses so that he could plant a gentle kiss on the back of Bruce's hand instead. "What are you after?" he asked.
Without Clark's lips to kiss, Bruce decided to attack his neck instead. In between vainly trying to leave bite marks on Clark's flawless skin, Bruce answered. "Lube. Top drawer."
Clark shook his head and grinned as he retrieved the lube. "You were nowhere near the top drawer."
"Clark, I couldn't reach because you're lying on top of me and you weigh as much as a house."
"Well, if you're complaining," Clark said, still grinning as he slowly lifted himself off Bruce, "I'll leave you alone."
Bruce's strong thighs immediately grabbed Clark around the waist, and Bruce soon had his ankles crossed behind Clark's back. They both knew that Clark could break the hold without even blinking, but why would he want to? Clark had dreamed about having those thighs locked around his waist for years.
Clark kissed him again. He felt Bruce's dull nails dig into his back, and although they couldn't leave any marks, Clark liked to pretend they would. Clark gently rocked onto Bruce, and the slide of their cocks together as he moved was beyond description. He still had the lube in his hand, and the feel of Bruce's hard cock against his own made Clark decide to kick things into a higher gear.
He allowed himself a few more seconds of enjoying Bruce's legs around his waist before he broke the hold. When Bruce opened his mouth to complain, Clark held up the lube. "I need a little room to move if I'm going to get you ready."
Bruce pouted slightly, and Clark wanted to bite that plush bottom lip of his, so he did exactly that, because now he could. He teased the lip between his teeth before licking it with his tongue and diving back into Bruce's mouth once more. Clark had only been kissing Bruce for about thirty minutes by now, and he was pretty sure he was addicted. Bruce Wayne just needed to be kissed, Clark thought. Preferably all of the time, and preferably by Clark Kent.
Reluctantly, Clark left Bruce's addictive mouth alone and uncapped the bottle of lube. Bruce, instantly understanding what was coming next because he was a great detective after all, spread his legs without needing to be asked. It was one thing to feel those thighs wrapped around your waist, but seeing them spread and waiting for you was something entirely else, Clark thought.
Clark placed a lubed finger against Bruce's hole and gently rubbed against the soft skin there. Bruce stared at him with a mix of pleasure and frustration, and Clark waited for the frustration to take over before he finally pushed his fingertip inside. Bruce had made him wait a long time for this, so Clark was going to make Bruce wait a little bit, too. Besides, Bruce was cute when he was frustrated at being teased.
He leaned down and dropped chaste kisses across Bruce's solid chest as he slowly worked his finger inside Bruce's body. Bruce grabbed at his hair, his shoulders, and any other part of him that he could reach, but Clark still kept his pace slow. He remembered his earlier question from when they were fused together, and tugged at one of Bruce's nipples with his teeth. When Bruce's back arched and lifted from the bed, pushing his nipple further into Clark's face, Clark had his answer. It was Bruce that had been responsible for the sensitive nipples on their fused form—Clark would remember that.
Clark teased Bruce's belly button with his tongue as he pushed a second finger inside, and was nibbling on Bruce's defined hip bones when he slipped in a third. He thought that he could do this for hours—exploring Bruce's body with his mouth while he made him come apart on his fingers. But, Clark had been too hard for too long now, and he really needed to find some release for himself. There would be another time for all of the other places he wanted to taste.
He removed his fingers—Bruce's disappointed whine was something to remember—and had begun to position himself between Bruce's spread legs, when Bruce moved and shuffled up the bed. Clark looked at him with a question in his eyes, and Bruce simply grinned.
"Sit down with your back against the headboard," Bruce said. "I want to ride you."
Clark hadn't expected that. But the more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea. "If you insist."
Bruce eagerly removed some of the pillows at the head of the bed and gestured for Clark to get comfortable. It was easy to get comfortable on such a comfortable bed, and when asked, Clark just as eagerly passed the lube over to Bruce's waiting hands.
Bruce spread some lube on his hands and ran them over Clark's cock. It took every ounce of Clark's willpower not to float off the mattress and thrust into those hands.
"You really do have a nice cock," Bruce said as he traced a finger around the head of Clark's cock. "It's going to feel so good inside me."
"You won't know for sure until you—"
"I'm getting there," Bruce interrupted. "Shut up and let me do what I want."
Clark would have argued, but as Bruce was now placing his knees on either side of Clark's hips, he decided to mime zipping his mouth shut instead. He watched closely as Bruce adjusted his position and kept his hips firmly on the mattress. Bruce then reached behind himself to grip Clark's cock and hold it in place as he lowered himself down.
If the situation had been different, Clark would have been in awe at the strength and control over his muscles Bruce displayed as he sat back, one inch at a time. But as Bruce's impressive strength and control happened at the same time as Clark's cock pushing against Bruce's tight hole and pushing inside, he was far too preoccupied to notice. Bruce was tight, but he opened up easily, and that first slide inside Bruce's hot and welcoming body was like nothing Clark had ever experienced before.
Bruce sank down until he was comfortably seated on Clark's thighs. The flush on Bruce's chest had spread down his stomach now, his hair was plastered to his forehead, and his kiss-bruised bottom lip was caught between his own teeth. Clark noticed all of this and more, and committed it all to memory.
Clark felt Bruce rock a little on his lap, and his hands instantly grabbed Bruce's waist. How had he never noticed how trim Bruce's waist was before? The man had shoulders that were nearly broad enough to rival Clark's, and thighs as thick as small tree trunks, but his waist was surprisingly narrow. Oh well, Clark thought, that just made it easier to hold onto.
Bruce placed his hands on Clark's shoulders, leaned forward a little, and moved.
If Clark had thought that simply being inside Bruce was too much, he soon learned that it was nothing compared to the feel of Bruce riding his cock. The friction and feeling of tight heat rubbing against his cock made him see stars. Bruce moved fast, pulling himself up and down on Clark's cock in exactly the way he wanted it. Luckily, it was exactly the way Clark wanted it as well, and Clark was not surprised in the slightest that their bodies were as in tune in the bedroom as they were on the battlefield.
In his enthusiasm, Bruce rose a little too high, and Clark's cock slipped out of his hole. Before Clark could reach down and reposition his cock, Bruce's hand was already there, eagerly holding Clark steady so he could sink back down onto it once more.
Oh, Bruce was such a sight. Clark could have watched the flex of his muscles and the drops of sweat rolling down them forever. He rolled Bruce's nipples between his fingertips and watched as they grew even harder and redder from his touch. Bruce's hard but neglected cock bounced up and down between their bodies with every motion Bruce made, and Clark's mouth watered at the sight.
Why hadn't he sucked Bruce's cock yet? How could he have passed over something that would feel so good in his mouth? It was just the right thickness and—
Before Clark even realized he'd done it himself, he used his strength, speed, and hold on Bruce's waist to flip Bruce onto his back, with his head at the foot of the bed and his left leg dangling off the side.
"Clark, what are you doing?"
Clark explained what he was doing by sucking Bruce's cock down to the root. Bruce arched off the bed and immediately grabbed two handfuls of Clark's hair. At first, Clark couldn't tell if Bruce's hands were trying to push him away or pull him closer, but when those damn thighs draped over his shoulders and wrapped around his ears, Clark had his answer.
Clark had been right; Bruce did feel so good in his mouth. The weight of Bruce's cock on his tongue and the sheer smell of him made the rest of the world disappear. All Clark needed was the cock in his mouth, and all he wanted was to please Bruce.
Bruce, by the sound of it, was very pleased indeed. "Fuck, Clark! That feels so good."
Clark dragged his lips up the shaft of Bruce's cock until only the head remained in his mouth. He locked eyes with Bruce, sucked, and then swallowed Bruce back down again until his nose was pressed against the neatly trimmed hair at the base.
Bruce tugged at his hair. "Clark, I'm gonna come if you don't stop."
Clark heard what Bruce said. He didn't stop. He swallowed every drop and then licked all over Bruce's cock, just to double-check he hadn't missed anything.
When Clark finally sat back and pulled his mouth away from Bruce's softening cock, Bruce was sprawled out on the mattress before him with a forearm flung over his face. Clark gently stroked Bruce's thighs and tried not to flinch when Bruce glared at him from underneath his forearm.
"That wasn't what I had planned."
Clark ran his hands over Bruce's stomach and chest. "Is that a problem?"
Bruce didn't answer that question, which was answer enough. He lifted and bent one of his legs so that he could lightly tap Clark's cock with his foot. "You haven't come yet."
Clark grabbed Bruce's foot and kissed it. He swept his eyes over Bruce's flushed and sweaty body and found his gaze drawn to Bruce's warm and inviting hole. "Can I finish inside you?"
"You can do whatever you want with me."
"Don't—" Clark swallowed before he continued, "don't make promises you won't keep."
"Who says I won't keep them?"
Clark let go of Bruce's foot and placed his hands on Bruce's inner thighs once more. He slowly, but firmly, pressed down until Bruce's legs were spread wide and against the mattress. Bruce raised his arms over his head and stared at Clark with an expectant and challenging look. It was a challenge that Clark was more than willing to accept.
This time, when his cock pushed into Bruce, Clark instantly noticed how much more relaxed Bruce's entire body was. The combination of lying back instead of being the active participant and the orgasm that had just rippled through him made Bruce feel so much softer and more pliant from head to toe. Bruce was content to simply spread his legs and take whatever Clark was going to give him, so Clark decided to give him everything.
Bruce was louder like this, too. He didn't say much, but there was a constant litany of groans that spilled from his lips as Clark moved inside him, and when one slightly angled thrust resulted in a louder groan than normal, Clark made sure to hit that same spot again and again.
Clark brushed his thumbs over Bruce's nipples again and ran his fingertips across the scars that decorated his skin. Some were recent and raised, others smooth and old, but Clark mapped them all from Bruce's collarbones to his knees. Bruce, with his eyes half-closed and head turned to the side, barely seemed to notice.
Bruce's cock lay soft and spent on his belly, but that was okay; from the sounds that continued to drop from Bruce's mouth as Clark fucked into him, Bruce was still enjoying himself. Next time, Clark thought, he'd make Bruce come on his cock. For now, though, this was good. A fucked-out Bruce was surprisingly sweet and accommodating. He leaned down to kiss Bruce, and Bruce happily kissed back, even though his kisses were more sloppy than passionate now.
Clark's hips lost their rhythm as his orgasm approached. Bruce wrapped his arms around Clark's shoulders and held him close, and Clark concentrated on all of the different sensations running through his body. He focused on the exquisite tightness around his cock and, most importantly of all, how loved he felt.
When Clark finally came, it was with Bruce's name on his lips.
They kissed again, slow and lazy like they had all the time in the world. Bruce ran his fingers through Clark's hair while Clark traced Bruce's cheekbones with his thumbs, still slightly stunned that after so long, Bruce was his to touch.
Eventually, Clark was able to pull himself away from Bruce's soft kisses and knelt on the bed, between Bruce's still spread but completely boneless legs. He tried not to stare as a few drops of his come dripped from Bruce's hole and pooled on the black sheet beneath them and failed miserably. He didn't want to leave Bruce now, not when his bed was so comfortable and his body so warm.
"Can I stay the night?" Clark asked.
"On one condition."
"What's your condition?" Clark asked, almost dreading the answer.
Bruce stretched his limbs and looked at Clark with a satisfied smirk that meant trouble. "Run me a bath."
"Oh, do you not run your own baths, Mr. Wayne?"
"Yes, I do. But someone fucked me so hard that I don’t trust my legs to hold my weight right now. And don’t look bashful, Clark Kent. You knew what you were doing. Next time someone talks about how virtuous and wonderful Superman is, I’m going to remember how you suck dick like a vacuum cleaner."
Although Clark was amused by Bruce's words, his cheeks still flushed red. "Are you complaining?"
"Absolutely not. Now, run that bath so I can recover for round two."
Clark leaned down and kissed him again before climbing off the bed. "There's going to be another round?"
Bruce looked Clark up and down with exaggerated lust in his eyes. If this were a cartoon, Clark thought, Bruce's eyes would have popped out of their sockets. "Most definitely. I like the water hot and use some of the bath salts in the blue box."
"Yes, sir," Clark said as he walked over to the gigantic bathroom Bruce called an en suite.
He'd just disappeared behind the door when he heard Bruce call his name. "And Clark?"
"Yes?"
"If you ever tell Hal Jordan that it was his ring that led to me admitting my feelings for you, I'll fetch the Kryptonite."
Clark turned the faucet on and laughed.