Clark groaned when he came. He couldn’t stop fantasising about Bruce coming into this room and fucking him, or letting himself be fucked, or jerking Clark off, or giving him a blowjob, and why the hell had one of those fantasies been of Bruce in his Batsuit sucking him off? Clark wasn’t even into the suit, although it was so very tight, emphasising Bruce’s muscles, only revealing his mouth…his dick twitched eagerly at the thought of those stern lips wrapped around Clark’s dick.
He was panting, torn between guilt and desire. Bruce was right here in the Fortress, monitoring him and helping him figure out what was going on. He shouldn’t use him as fantasy fodder. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed since Bruce had last visited him to take some blood, but Clark felt a stab of guilt when he remembered how he had pawed at Bruce, trying to get him to help Clark in a different way.
If Bruce hadn’t been disgusted by him before, he certainly had to be now. He had certainly been uncomfortable, his posture stiff and his eyes barely meeting Clark’s as he drew Clark’s blood. He owed Bruce an apology.
His mind conjured up some images of how exactly he could apologise to Bruce and make things up to him. He could get on his knees and suck the other man off, Bruce would certainly like that, wouldn’t he? He wondered what Bruce’s cock would feel and taste like.
As lust clouded his brain, the guilt grew fainter and fainter as Clark lay back and let the machine fuck him. Oh, he would make it up to Bruce, any way Bruce wanted.
*
It was five, maybe six orgasms later when Bruce returned. Clark, having just come again, wiped his hand on the sheets – he really should ask Bruce to get some new sheets, these were covered in sticky white substance – and leaned up to turn the fucking machine off.
He curled his hands into fists, fighting the urge to reach for Bruce and throw him down next to him and rip his clothes off. He could do that; he could do that so easily, but it would be wrong to use his strength like that.
He took a deep breath, in through his nose, focusing on that instead of Bruce, and was hit by the smell of come. But not his own, he was pretty damn familiar with how that smelled by now. His eyes widened when he looked at Bruce, who was already prepping the needle. Had Bruce been jerking off? He let out a soft whimper at the thought of that, of Bruce wrapping one of his big hands around his dick, and moving it up and down, groaning in pleasure. Humans didn’t go into heat, so why would Bruce be jerking off as well? Was Clark’s heat contagious?
He considered that while Bruce took his blood. The other man apologised, but Clark didn’t even notice it. If his own heat was somehow contagious, he owed it to Bruce to help him out and assure him that Clark understood what he was going through.
When Bruce was clearing his needle away and putting the cap back on the vial, Clark sat up and put a hand on Bruce’s shoulder. He could feel the heat from Bruce’s body, sending a spike of arousal through his own, but he resisted the urge to pull Bruce closer. He had to explain why he was going to do that first. “You jerked off, didn’t you?” Clark said, smiling when Bruce’s eyes widened.
“How did you – I didn’t – I mean – how?” Bruce spluttered, nearly dropping the vial, then clutching it to his chest.
Clark’s smile grew. “Smelled it,” he admitted. “But I know why you did it, Bruce, and it’s fine. I know what you’re feeling.”
“I’m not feeling anything,” Bruce snapped, getting up. He put the vial back in the bag, along with his other supplies. “I was just…I needed my own blood. After orgasm. As a – as a control to yours.”
“Bruce, it’s fine,” Clark repeated. Bruce was clearly feeling ashamed of being heat as well, and Clark didn’t blame him. “I’ve got the same feelings you do.”
Bruce stared at him, and the frown slowly faded. “You do?” His voice was surprisingly quiet, a little wistful, even.
Clark grinned and stood up, only a foot between them now. “Yes, you’re in heat too – it’s probably contagious somehow, I can’t believe we didn’t think of that before.”
“In heat,” Bruce muttered, hanging his head. “Clark, that’s not – I’m not in heat.”
“Of course you are,” Clark insisted, moving towards Bruce, and Bruce stepped back. “Why else would you need to jerk off?”
Bruce opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. “I told you, I needed a control for blood after orgasm.” His eyes narrowed as he watched Clark move closer again and he moved back. “I’m not in heat!”
“But I’m Kryptonian and you’re human, it wouldn’t be a good control at all,” Clark said, feeling proud he had thought of that even through the haze of desire and need and grab him grab him now get him naked feel his skin thrumming through his head. “We should consider the possibility it’s contagious.”
Bruce licked his lips, Clark following the moment of his quick tongue. “How about I look into that in the lab?” he suggested, backing away once more. His eyes widened when he realised he had his back against the wall and that the door was six feet to his left.
Clark moved closer, his chest brushing against the fabric of Bruce’s shift. “Why don’t we look into it here?” He put one hand on Bruce’s shoulder. Bruce wasn’t pushing him away or yelling at him, but he still looked a little scared. Well, of course he was by the prospect of going into heat. But Clark would help him if Bruce let him. “I’ll help you.” And then he leaned in, and kissed Bruce.
Bruce managed an odd yelp, his entire body freezing against the wall, and his two hands came up to rest against Clark’s bare chest.
Clark didn’t move, keeping his mouth pressed against Bruce’s, waiting for Bruce to push him away, but while Bruce’s hands were trembling, they didn’t push. They just stayed where they were. Clark pulled his head back, leaving barely an inch between their faces. “You’ll be helping me too, Bruce,” he said. “It’ll feel so much better with you than with the machine.” He pressed his body closer, his own hard cock against the hard planes of Bruce’s stomach. And, if Clark wasn’t mistaken, Bruce’s cock hardening against his thigh. “I’ve been thinking about it,” he admitted, running his hand down Bruce’s chest. He couldn’t wait to get that shirt off him. “About you fucking me, or me fucking you. I think it would be great either way, don’t you?”
Bruce’s fingers dug into his flesh, gripping his shoulders. “This is a terrible idea,” he muttered.
Clark was sure that if he could think properly, without the distracting thoughts of fucking and sex and having Bruce so close, he would agree, but right now it seemed like the best idea in the world. “But you want to, yes?”
It was a long second before Bruce finally nodded.
Clark grinned, then grabbed Bruce by his shirt-collar and used both his hands to rip the shirt off him. Bruce was rich enough to buy more. He almost laughed at Bruce’s indignant ‘hey!’, then ran his hands down Bruce’s chest, down his stomach. He traced one of the older scars. Yes, Bruce was exactly as Clark had imagined, covered in the evidence of his humanity.
His fingers made swift work of Bruce’s belt, and the trousers were ripped off as easily. Despite Bruce’s protests, the way his cock tented his tight boxers told Clark that Bruce didn’t exactly mind. “Careful!” Bruce grumbled.
“I’ll try,” Clark promised, wrapping one arm around Bruce’s chest and leaned down to wrap his other arm around the back of Bruce’s thighs so he could pick him up and carry him over to the bed. That led to more grumbling from Bruce as he was dropped onto the sheets.
“I can walk, Kent!”
Clark joined him on the bed, crouching over him on all fours. “I know.” He looked down at Bruce, who was still looking a little nervous. “So, shall I fuck you first and then you can fuck me?” He couldn’t wait to sink into Bruce, couldn’t wait to touch and kiss and lick him everywhere.
Bruce swallowed hard, closed his eyes for a moment, and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, let’s do that.”
Re: Bruce/Clark, heat - Fill, 4/?
He was panting, torn between guilt and desire. Bruce was right here in the Fortress, monitoring him and helping him figure out what was going on. He shouldn’t use him as fantasy fodder. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed since Bruce had last visited him to take some blood, but Clark felt a stab of guilt when he remembered how he had pawed at Bruce, trying to get him to help Clark in a different way.
If Bruce hadn’t been disgusted by him before, he certainly had to be now. He had certainly been uncomfortable, his posture stiff and his eyes barely meeting Clark’s as he drew Clark’s blood. He owed Bruce an apology.
His mind conjured up some images of how exactly he could apologise to Bruce and make things up to him. He could get on his knees and suck the other man off, Bruce would certainly like that, wouldn’t he? He wondered what Bruce’s cock would feel and taste like.
As lust clouded his brain, the guilt grew fainter and fainter as Clark lay back and let the machine fuck him. Oh, he would make it up to Bruce, any way Bruce wanted.
*
It was five, maybe six orgasms later when Bruce returned. Clark, having just come again, wiped his hand on the sheets – he really should ask Bruce to get some new sheets, these were covered in sticky white substance – and leaned up to turn the fucking machine off.
He curled his hands into fists, fighting the urge to reach for Bruce and throw him down next to him and rip his clothes off. He could do that; he could do that so easily, but it would be wrong to use his strength like that.
He took a deep breath, in through his nose, focusing on that instead of Bruce, and was hit by the smell of come. But not his own, he was pretty damn familiar with how that smelled by now. His eyes widened when he looked at Bruce, who was already prepping the needle. Had Bruce been jerking off? He let out a soft whimper at the thought of that, of Bruce wrapping one of his big hands around his dick, and moving it up and down, groaning in pleasure. Humans didn’t go into heat, so why would Bruce be jerking off as well? Was Clark’s heat contagious?
He considered that while Bruce took his blood. The other man apologised, but Clark didn’t even notice it. If his own heat was somehow contagious, he owed it to Bruce to help him out and assure him that Clark understood what he was going through.
When Bruce was clearing his needle away and putting the cap back on the vial, Clark sat up and put a hand on Bruce’s shoulder. He could feel the heat from Bruce’s body, sending a spike of arousal through his own, but he resisted the urge to pull Bruce closer. He had to explain why he was going to do that first. “You jerked off, didn’t you?” Clark said, smiling when Bruce’s eyes widened.
“How did you – I didn’t – I mean – how?” Bruce spluttered, nearly dropping the vial, then clutching it to his chest.
Clark’s smile grew. “Smelled it,” he admitted. “But I know why you did it, Bruce, and it’s fine. I know what you’re feeling.”
“I’m not feeling anything,” Bruce snapped, getting up. He put the vial back in the bag, along with his other supplies. “I was just…I needed my own blood. After orgasm. As a – as a control to yours.”
“Bruce, it’s fine,” Clark repeated. Bruce was clearly feeling ashamed of being heat as well, and Clark didn’t blame him. “I’ve got the same feelings you do.”
Bruce stared at him, and the frown slowly faded. “You do?” His voice was surprisingly quiet, a little wistful, even.
Clark grinned and stood up, only a foot between them now. “Yes, you’re in heat too – it’s probably contagious somehow, I can’t believe we didn’t think of that before.”
“In heat,” Bruce muttered, hanging his head. “Clark, that’s not – I’m not in heat.”
“Of course you are,” Clark insisted, moving towards Bruce, and Bruce stepped back. “Why else would you need to jerk off?”
Bruce opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. “I told you, I needed a control for blood after orgasm.” His eyes narrowed as he watched Clark move closer again and he moved back. “I’m not in heat!”
“But I’m Kryptonian and you’re human, it wouldn’t be a good control at all,” Clark said, feeling proud he had thought of that even through the haze of desire and need and grab him grab him now get him naked feel his skin thrumming through his head. “We should consider the possibility it’s contagious.”
Bruce licked his lips, Clark following the moment of his quick tongue. “How about I look into that in the lab?” he suggested, backing away once more. His eyes widened when he realised he had his back against the wall and that the door was six feet to his left.
Clark moved closer, his chest brushing against the fabric of Bruce’s shift. “Why don’t we look into it here?” He put one hand on Bruce’s shoulder. Bruce wasn’t pushing him away or yelling at him, but he still looked a little scared. Well, of course he was by the prospect of going into heat. But Clark would help him if Bruce let him. “I’ll help you.” And then he leaned in, and kissed Bruce.
Bruce managed an odd yelp, his entire body freezing against the wall, and his two hands came up to rest against Clark’s bare chest.
Clark didn’t move, keeping his mouth pressed against Bruce’s, waiting for Bruce to push him away, but while Bruce’s hands were trembling, they didn’t push. They just stayed where they were. Clark pulled his head back, leaving barely an inch between their faces. “You’ll be helping me too, Bruce,” he said. “It’ll feel so much better with you than with the machine.” He pressed his body closer, his own hard cock against the hard planes of Bruce’s stomach. And, if Clark wasn’t mistaken, Bruce’s cock hardening against his thigh. “I’ve been thinking about it,” he admitted, running his hand down Bruce’s chest. He couldn’t wait to get that shirt off him. “About you fucking me, or me fucking you. I think it would be great either way, don’t you?”
Bruce’s fingers dug into his flesh, gripping his shoulders. “This is a terrible idea,” he muttered.
Clark was sure that if he could think properly, without the distracting thoughts of fucking and sex and having Bruce so close, he would agree, but right now it seemed like the best idea in the world. “But you want to, yes?”
It was a long second before Bruce finally nodded.
Clark grinned, then grabbed Bruce by his shirt-collar and used both his hands to rip the shirt off him. Bruce was rich enough to buy more. He almost laughed at Bruce’s indignant ‘hey!’, then ran his hands down Bruce’s chest, down his stomach. He traced one of the older scars. Yes, Bruce was exactly as Clark had imagined, covered in the evidence of his humanity.
His fingers made swift work of Bruce’s belt, and the trousers were ripped off as easily. Despite Bruce’s protests, the way his cock tented his tight boxers told Clark that Bruce didn’t exactly mind. “Careful!” Bruce grumbled.
“I’ll try,” Clark promised, wrapping one arm around Bruce’s chest and leaned down to wrap his other arm around the back of Bruce’s thighs so he could pick him up and carry him over to the bed. That led to more grumbling from Bruce as he was dropped onto the sheets.
“I can walk, Kent!”
Clark joined him on the bed, crouching over him on all fours. “I know.” He looked down at Bruce, who was still looking a little nervous. “So, shall I fuck you first and then you can fuck me?” He couldn’t wait to sink into Bruce, couldn’t wait to touch and kiss and lick him everywhere.
Bruce swallowed hard, closed his eyes for a moment, and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, let’s do that.”