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“Don’t squirm.”
The ring gag makes Bruce unable to hide his whine when the heavy hand lands a stinging strike on his thigh. The big palms grab his hips and lift him like he weighs nothing just to drop him back down on the hard cock. The sudden intrusion makes his hole tighten, trying to push it out. The fat head hits hard against his sensitive nerves, sending a jolt up his spine which makes him bend his back in an attempt to get away.
After that, Bane continues to read the reports of his henchmen as if he doesn’t have the Prince of Gotham bound and squirming on his lap. Bruce is completely naked, his once pristine tuxedo ripped to pieces and lying in a corner, his hands are tied behind his back and his ankles roped closely together. His back is flush with the giant’s chest, the contact burning his skin in the chilly room.
Bruce should be trying to escape. He should be struggling frantically against the knots, cursing through the gag, and kicking his shackled legs. But he doesn’t want to.
Besides, it’s kind of hard to do when he can barely concentrate enough to try and get away from the onslaught of sensation. Every twitch, every unconscious shudder is overwhelming. He has been sitting like this for at least 15 minutes, and it doesn’t get any easier. Bane’s cock is simply too big. It unrelentingly pushes against his abdomen, leaving little to no room for air. Every exhale presses his internal muscles even more snugly around it, squeezing all of his good spots at once, making him see black dots. Bruce is panting from the strain, and he is pretty sure that he could cum just by breathing, and he probably would have, if not for the cock ring. The black silicone hugs his red dick, making the continuous pressure on his prostate that much more unbearable.
He feels like he is breaking at the seams, and the supervillain doesn't look even slightly bothered. The criminal is leisurely flipping pages and sipping coffee once in a while, appearing positively bored.
The way Bane simply sits like nothing is happening is probably the most frustrating part. It's so humiliating to be so thoroughly taken apart and not even be paid a sliver of attention. The stillness gives Bruce no moment of respite, no second to properly breathe. The weight inside is a constant that leaves him teetering on the very edge, and no amount of flexing his back and lifting his hips can help him back away from it.
Seemingly inattentive, Bane puts one of his hands on his flank, and lightly squeezes once, twice, thrice. It takes Bruce a little time, but eventually, he gives a minute nod. Then, the palm smooths from his side to his abdomen and starts rubbing circles on it. Bruce’s whine turns to whimpers when the man doesn’t let up the pressure for a while. He can see and feel Bane stroking himself through him, and it shouldn’t be making his cock even harder but it does.
He sags in relief when the hand finally moves on, to settle on his ribs.
Bane suddenly shifts to a slightly more comfortable position and Bruce curls in on himself with a loud moan, the hard grinding making his eyes teary. His vision goes dark for a moment, and when he finally blinks it away he realises that there is someone else in the room.
“What a nice toy you have,” Deathstroke says to Bane casually. He walks towards the dingy desk and leans his hip on it, reaches out his hand and takes Bruce’s covered in saliva chin to turn it from side to side, appraising. After a pause, he continues. “So, about the payment-”
“I told you before. It will be ready when-”
“Actually, I was thinking of another way you could make it up to me.” Slade raises his gaze onto Bane and smirks.
Bane’s mask wrinkles with his frown.
“I think not.”
“Why? That’s a significant cost reduction.”
Bane chuckles smugly.
“Cost reduction? This toy cost me much more than your services. And I certainly didn’t spend so much money to share him with anybody.” He pressed Bruce closer to his chest in a display of possessiveness.
“Now, that’s just mean.”
“I’m not known for being nice.”
Slade stares at Bane, and though his face is hidden behind the mask, and the tone is just as uncaring as it was, the shift in the mood is felt by everyone in the room.
“Then I want my payment now,” Slade says in a way that doesn’t imply the possibility of a ‘no’.
“Or what?” Bane asks confidently.
“Or the birds will learn who stands behind the Wayne kidnapping.”
Bane’s jaws visibly clench under the fabric.
The room has gone quiet, and Bruce belatedly realizes that despite not looking at him, both men are waiting for his sign, Bane’s hand once again lightly pinching his side. He gives another tiny nod.
“Deal,” Bane says with exasperation.
With one hand gripping Bruce’s shoulder and another placed to support his waist, he easily stands up together with him, as if Bruce is merely a feather, and manhandles the billionaire to lay him down on the table, still staying firmly inside him.
The hard wood presses into Bruce’s stomach, and in this pose, he feels the full weight of Bane’s cock resting in his oversensitive prostate. The heaviness of it crushing his delicate nerves, and the large girth stretching him so obscenely open makes Bruce shudder, overloading his brain with sensations.
He is so distracted, he doesn’t notice Deathstroke unbuckling his pants until his cock’s red head slaps against Bruce’s flushed cheek. With effort, Bruce focuses his eyes on it and then on Slade.
The mercenary takes a hold of his hair with one hand and with the other slowly guides the cockhead to his mouth. He smears his precum on the soft lower lip, and Bruce sticks out his tongue to catch the liquid.
“Good boy,” Slade hisses when the man licks his hot length.
On the other end, Bane firmly grasps Bruce’s hips, pulls his flushed cheeks apart with his thumbs, and starts languidly moving. With a glacial pace, he drags his cock out, until only the tip is left inside, and then, just as slowly, watches it slide inside the pink hole to the very hilt, gifting Slade the sight of Bruce’s face full of bliss.
When Bane pulls out, he leaves Bruce with an aching emptiness, - relief and frustration at once. He unconsciously tries to tighten on it, in need to feel complete again. And then Bane forces his tense muscles open on his cock, again and again, steady and inexorable, and just like everything else, it’s almost too much.
Bane makes it impossible to pay attention to anything but him, and Bruce is reminded of Slade only when the head touches the back of his throat. When the mercenary is sure Bruce is back with him again, he lightly tugs at his hair three times. In response, Bruce makes a “v” with his hand and takes in a breath, and immediately he feels Slade thrust deeper. Good thing that Bruce trained himself out of his gag reflex years ago.
Just as slowly as the other criminal, he pushes in, until Bruce’s nose meets his pelvis. He holds him like that for a few seconds, the hand on Bruce’s head not letting him move away, and the other lightly wrapped around his stuffed throat, massaging it gently, one forefinger pressed to the pulse. When he counts ten beats, he pulls out, lets Bruce take a breath, and then repeats.
This goes on for another few minutes, calm and measured push and pull, deliberate in its intensity.
Bane is the first one to lose his patience. His thrusts quickly gain speed and force, making Bruce choke on the dick in his throat, slamming into the tender prostate. Slade is cursing at the sudden vicious clenching around him, rutting against the trembling walls, clenching black curls with a white-knuckled grip.
Bruce’s heart is hammering in his rib cage, the blood thrumming in his ears, and his vision is filled with black spots. There is not enough air, and every nerve ending is on fire. Pleasure is running up his spine in shock waves, exploding in his brain, and not finding a way out.
Finally, he feels warmth fill his belly and spill down his throat. He feels a hot, heavy chest press to his spine, the giant cock still throbbing inside, and the lips hidden behind the mask ghost against his neck, before whispering into his ear, so warm and content “Mi murciélago.”
And that’s the final peak, the push that makes Bruce topple over the edge he was balancing on. He shakes with a dry orgasm, his ears fill with ringing noise, his vision whites out, and everything goes black.
~~~
When Bruce comes to, the first thing he registers is the warm water. The second thing is the big chest he is lying on, which rocks him gently with every breath.
All three of them are in a giant jacuzzi tub that could easily hold three more people. He is leaning on maskless Bane with his legs on Slade’s lap. All restraints are gone, the gag is off, and the two mercenaries are busy rubbing out the rope traces on his arms and ankles.
“Are you alright?” Slade is trying to look disinterested, not lifting his eyes from Bruce’s damaged skin. There’s going to be a nasty bruise. Bane is silent, but it’s obvious to Bruce that he attentively waits for the answer.
‘These two’ Bruce thinks to himself as a fond smile graces his lips.
“I feel… amazing ,” Bruce says with a hoarse voice. His jaw is going to hurt for a while.
He hadn’t been this relaxed in weeks, running himself thin with work. Constantly trying to be in control, constantly absorbed with tasks, he really needed this, needed to stop thinking for a while and let his lovers take care of him.
He is never good at realising just how tired he is at the moment, he feels the full weight of his responsibilities only when someone else takes them away and lets him finally take a breath.
“Mi pequeño murciélago…” Bane sighs and hugs Bruce closer.
“You really scared us for a moment there.” Slade continues for him.
“Don’t do that again,” Bane mumbles into his hair.
Bruce simply smiles, not knowing how to respond.
There’s a moment of silence before Slade disturbs it with his teasing tone.
“How did you like everything? Any comments?” He asks Bruce.
"Both of you have Oscar-winning acting talents that lie in waste because you chose the life of crime.” Bruce jokes, and instantly feels a pinch at his side from Bane. However, the giant almost immediately soothes it with a light caress.
“I take it you liked it,” Slade smirks back at him.
“Yes,” Bruce agrees easily, but after some thought, adds. “Though, I do have one remark: don’t mention my family. Their faces are not exactly what I want to think about in the middle of kinky sex.”
All three men chuckle and then settle in comfortable silence.
“Next time, I will last longer,” Bruce says like it's a matter of fact.
“Don’t push yourself,” Bane retorts, and his warm breath ghosts Bruce’s nape.
“Yeah,” Slade agrees with the other mercenary. “Actually, I have a better idea for the next time,” he says with a sly grin “Do you remember that thigh high stockings and corset combo I brought you from France?..”