(So, er, this isn’t exactly compliant with BvS, but I hope it’s porny enough to make up for that?)
Bruce isn’t a big fan of the freezing Arctic wasteland where Clark has his Fortress of Solitude, but needs must. He also isn’t a big fan of breaking into the Fortress, but hey, Clark told him last week that it was fine if he came by for a visit. Bruce had been trying to figure out if some of the fluid found at a crime scene in Gotham was alien, and if so, what kind. His own research equipment had only gotten him to ‘alien’, but he needed to know more.
He had mentioned the conundrum reluctantly to Clark, who had appeared a little absentminded but told Bruce that if he wanted to, he was welcome to use some of Clark’s research equipment and database.
Bruce still didn’t like relying too much on the Kryptonian, preferring to use his own gadgets and research techniques, where he knew exactly how things worked and that he could trust the results. But if there was some strange, alien creature wreaking havoc in Gotham, then Bruce wouldn’t turn down the help from another alien.
He stepped inside, shaking his head at how easy it had been to open the lock without the key. He would definitely have a word with Clark about that, and he could imagine the look of annoyed surprised on the other’s man face.
It was strange that Clark hadn’t responded to Bruce’s phonecall earlier when he had still been home, and he was starting to feel a little bit worried at how quiet it was in here.
Which was stupid, since Clark could handle anything the universe could throw at him, and more besides.
He squashed down the vague worries, and headed over to the laboratory instead. Do his tests, get the results, go back home. Maybe it would be better if he didn’t see Clark at all; he still wasn’t entirely sure what to make of the other man, and while part of him wanted to find out what made Clark Kent and Superman tick, he ignored that urge too. Clark wasn’t a threat and Bruce had far more important things to think about.
He was just about to head into the lab when he heard a faint noise coming from somewhere, from a higher level, and he froze in the doorway. Was Clark here after all? Or another burglar? He’d have to investigate, perhaps it was someone intending to hurt Clark – or someone else, or an entire city.
He quietly snuck up the stairs, pausing at every door, holding his breath and listening for more noise. He heard grunts coming from further down the hallway, bitten back as if someone didn’t want anyone to hear.
Was Clark in trouble? Was that why he’d been so absentminded last week? Had he known about a threat to him – to Earth – and not mentioned it to Bruce?
Bruce narrowed his eyes as he quietly moved further down the hallway. Oh, so Superman can keep things to himself, while magnanimously offering Bruce the use of his equipment. Well, if Clark had now gotten himself into trouble because of it, Bruce was gonna chew him out before helping him.
He listened at the door of the room the noises were coming from. He could hear the hum of machinery, something was thumping rhythmically, and the bitten back grunts seemed to be the result of those thumps. Was Clark tied to some torturing device? Perhaps gagged as well, considering the suppressed noises?
And that thought of Clark tied up and gagged should not be making him feel hot. Clark was in trouble, and here was Bruce, about to rescue him, and instead of wondering who could’ve done this to Clark, his mind was coming up with some terrible porn scenarios. Shame drowned out any arousal.
He tried the door handle, surprised when it wasn’t locked, and opened the door slowly, ready to jump in and fight any mook who had been left behind to guard Clark.
But there weren’t any mooks, just Clark, and he was – he was naked, lying down on a kingsize bed, a fine sheen of sweat covering his chest, his head thrown back and his eyes firmly closed. His lips were parted, letting out the grunts Bruce had been hearing.
And the cause of those grunts, the cause of that rhythmic thumping noise Bruce had been curious about, was a device placed between Clark’s spread thighs and raised knees, and while Bruce couldn’t see any moving parts, he could tell from the way that Clark’s body moved with the thumps, that there definitely were moving parts and they were moving in and out, in an out.
“Please, please,” Clark muttered, and Bruce’s eyes flew back to his face. Clark’s eyes were still screwed shut, and he was gasping now, his expression almost one of his pain.
A thousand thoughts ran through Bruce’s mind. What was going on? Well, he could see what was going on, what was going on was that Clark was sprawled out on a bed, moaning in pleasure, one of his hands skimming across a nipple, his other hand curled into a fist around his hard, large cock and pumping up and down, thumb running across the tip every now and then, his entire body moving back and forth as the machine between his thighs did – did its work.
Even through the fog of confusion and arousal, Bruce realised that Clark must’ve created that machine for this purpose, the purpose of fucking him relentlessly.
And Bruce was watching him. And getting more and more turned on and harder by the second, because this went way beyond the filthy porn scenarios his mind had thrown at him when he had thought Clark might be in danger. This was real, this was happening right in front of his eyes and there wasn’t a single movement or sound Clark made that wasn’t burned into Bruce’s brain.
And Clark didn’t even know Bruce was here, or he would’ve done something. He would’ve got mad, thrown Bruce out, thrown him into some crevice and left him there to die.
It would be justified too, because what kind of creepy, perverted asshole stayed to watch this? Stayed to watch a man jerk off while letting some machine fuck him? Stayed to listen to those gasps and moans of pleasure? Stayed to look at the way Clark’s wrist was moving faster now, the way the expression on Clark’s face changed?
“C’mon, please, fuck,” Clark muttered, his other arm pinching his nipple. “Ah! Fuck!” He let out a low groan, and came all over his stomach and chest, covering himself in thick wads of sticky, white come.
Bruce knew he had to leave, because he could tell Clark was relaxing, his breathing slowing down, and a vague smile appeared on other’s man face. Any minute now, Clark would open his eyes and notice Bruce standing there.
He left as quickly and as quietly as possible, and as soon as he was in the Batwing and some distance away from the Fortress of Solitude and could afford to put it on autopilot, he popped open the buttons of his trousers and shoved his hand inside, wrapping it around his aching, hard cock.
He tried not to think about what he’d just seen, not to wonder about why Clark had needed to be fucked, what it would be like if he had stayed and Clark had seen him and not gotten angry, instead suggesting Bruce fuck him instead of the machine, and Bruce agreeing and joining Clark on that big bed and sinking into that tight heat – maybe not so tight after having been fucked by the machine, but that was fine, that made it all the easier to fuck Clark, if he was already prepared and lubed up, and he’d ask Bruce to fuck him harder, faster, deeper, and Clark would moan and mutter ‘please’ again, whimpering as Bruce fucked him. Maybe Clark would wrap his hand around his cock again, hard again already since Kryptonians probably didn’t need a moment to rest, and Bruce would tell him to stop touching himself and pull Clark’s hand away, because maybe after coming his superstrength didn’t return immediately, and Clark would look surprised and a little pleased, and then Clark would throw his head back and come, covering himself and Bruce in white, moaning in pleasure.
Bruce gasped his way through his own orgasm, guilt hitting him hard the split-second the initial bliss was over.
What the hell was he doing, jerking off over Clark like that, over what he’d just seen? How could he have done that to Clark?
Definitely better, Bruce decided, to avoid Clark for now.
Re: Bruce/Clark, heat - Fill, 1/? (with a fuck machine and masturbation)
Bruce isn’t a big fan of the freezing Arctic wasteland where Clark has his Fortress of Solitude, but needs must. He also isn’t a big fan of breaking into the Fortress, but hey, Clark told him last week that it was fine if he came by for a visit. Bruce had been trying to figure out if some of the fluid found at a crime scene in Gotham was alien, and if so, what kind. His own research equipment had only gotten him to ‘alien’, but he needed to know more.
He had mentioned the conundrum reluctantly to Clark, who had appeared a little absentminded but told Bruce that if he wanted to, he was welcome to use some of Clark’s research equipment and database.
Bruce still didn’t like relying too much on the Kryptonian, preferring to use his own gadgets and research techniques, where he knew exactly how things worked and that he could trust the results. But if there was some strange, alien creature wreaking havoc in Gotham, then Bruce wouldn’t turn down the help from another alien.
He stepped inside, shaking his head at how easy it had been to open the lock without the key. He would definitely have a word with Clark about that, and he could imagine the look of annoyed surprised on the other’s man face.
It was strange that Clark hadn’t responded to Bruce’s phonecall earlier when he had still been home, and he was starting to feel a little bit worried at how quiet it was in here.
Which was stupid, since Clark could handle anything the universe could throw at him, and more besides.
He squashed down the vague worries, and headed over to the laboratory instead. Do his tests, get the results, go back home. Maybe it would be better if he didn’t see Clark at all; he still wasn’t entirely sure what to make of the other man, and while part of him wanted to find out what made Clark Kent and Superman tick, he ignored that urge too. Clark wasn’t a threat and Bruce had far more important things to think about.
He was just about to head into the lab when he heard a faint noise coming from somewhere, from a higher level, and he froze in the doorway. Was Clark here after all? Or another burglar? He’d have to investigate, perhaps it was someone intending to hurt Clark – or someone else, or an entire city.
He quietly snuck up the stairs, pausing at every door, holding his breath and listening for more noise. He heard grunts coming from further down the hallway, bitten back as if someone didn’t want anyone to hear.
Was Clark in trouble? Was that why he’d been so absentminded last week? Had he known about a threat to him – to Earth – and not mentioned it to Bruce?
Bruce narrowed his eyes as he quietly moved further down the hallway. Oh, so Superman can keep things to himself, while magnanimously offering Bruce the use of his equipment. Well, if Clark had now gotten himself into trouble because of it, Bruce was gonna chew him out before helping him.
He listened at the door of the room the noises were coming from. He could hear the hum of machinery, something was thumping rhythmically, and the bitten back grunts seemed to be the result of those thumps. Was Clark tied to some torturing device? Perhaps gagged as well, considering the suppressed noises?
And that thought of Clark tied up and gagged should not be making him feel hot. Clark was in trouble, and here was Bruce, about to rescue him, and instead of wondering who could’ve done this to Clark, his mind was coming up with some terrible porn scenarios. Shame drowned out any arousal.
He tried the door handle, surprised when it wasn’t locked, and opened the door slowly, ready to jump in and fight any mook who had been left behind to guard Clark.
But there weren’t any mooks, just Clark, and he was – he was naked, lying down on a kingsize bed, a fine sheen of sweat covering his chest, his head thrown back and his eyes firmly closed. His lips were parted, letting out the grunts Bruce had been hearing.
And the cause of those grunts, the cause of that rhythmic thumping noise Bruce had been curious about, was a device placed between Clark’s spread thighs and raised knees, and while Bruce couldn’t see any moving parts, he could tell from the way that Clark’s body moved with the thumps, that there definitely were moving parts and they were moving in and out, in an out.
“Please, please,” Clark muttered, and Bruce’s eyes flew back to his face. Clark’s eyes were still screwed shut, and he was gasping now, his expression almost one of his pain.
A thousand thoughts ran through Bruce’s mind. What was going on? Well, he could see what was going on, what was going on was that Clark was sprawled out on a bed, moaning in pleasure, one of his hands skimming across a nipple, his other hand curled into a fist around his hard, large cock and pumping up and down, thumb running across the tip every now and then, his entire body moving back and forth as the machine between his thighs did – did its work.
Even through the fog of confusion and arousal, Bruce realised that Clark must’ve created that machine for this purpose, the purpose of fucking him relentlessly.
And Bruce was watching him. And getting more and more turned on and harder by the second, because this went way beyond the filthy porn scenarios his mind had thrown at him when he had thought Clark might be in danger. This was real, this was happening right in front of his eyes and there wasn’t a single movement or sound Clark made that wasn’t burned into Bruce’s brain.
And Clark didn’t even know Bruce was here, or he would’ve done something. He would’ve got mad, thrown Bruce out, thrown him into some crevice and left him there to die.
It would be justified too, because what kind of creepy, perverted asshole stayed to watch this? Stayed to watch a man jerk off while letting some machine fuck him? Stayed to listen to those gasps and moans of pleasure? Stayed to look at the way Clark’s wrist was moving faster now, the way the expression on Clark’s face changed?
“C’mon, please, fuck,” Clark muttered, his other arm pinching his nipple. “Ah! Fuck!” He let out a low groan, and came all over his stomach and chest, covering himself in thick wads of sticky, white come.
Bruce knew he had to leave, because he could tell Clark was relaxing, his breathing slowing down, and a vague smile appeared on other’s man face. Any minute now, Clark would open his eyes and notice Bruce standing there.
He left as quickly and as quietly as possible, and as soon as he was in the Batwing and some distance away from the Fortress of Solitude and could afford to put it on autopilot, he popped open the buttons of his trousers and shoved his hand inside, wrapping it around his aching, hard cock.
He tried not to think about what he’d just seen, not to wonder about why Clark had needed to be fucked, what it would be like if he had stayed and Clark had seen him and not gotten angry, instead suggesting Bruce fuck him instead of the machine, and Bruce agreeing and joining Clark on that big bed and sinking into that tight heat – maybe not so tight after having been fucked by the machine, but that was fine, that made it all the easier to fuck Clark, if he was already prepared and lubed up, and he’d ask Bruce to fuck him harder, faster, deeper, and Clark would moan and mutter ‘please’ again, whimpering as Bruce fucked him. Maybe Clark would wrap his hand around his cock again, hard again already since Kryptonians probably didn’t need a moment to rest, and Bruce would tell him to stop touching himself and pull Clark’s hand away, because maybe after coming his superstrength didn’t return immediately, and Clark would look surprised and a little pleased, and then Clark would throw his head back and come, covering himself and Bruce in white, moaning in pleasure.
Bruce gasped his way through his own orgasm, guilt hitting him hard the split-second the initial bliss was over.
What the hell was he doing, jerking off over Clark like that, over what he’d just seen? How could he have done that to Clark?
Definitely better, Bruce decided, to avoid Clark for now.