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dceu_kinkmeme2016-04-14 12:37 am
dceu_kinkmod) wrote in dceu_kinkmeme2016-04-14 12:37 am
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DCEU Prompt Post #1
Welcome to Round One of the DCEU Kink Meme!
Please have a look at the extended rules here.
The important rules in short:
- Post anonymously.
- Negative comments on other people's prompts (kink-shaming, pairing-bashing etc.) and personal attacks of any kind will not be tolerated.
- One prompt per comment. Warnings for common triggers and squicks are encouraged, but not required.
- Prompts should follow the format: Character/character, prompt.
- Keep prompts to a reasonable length; prompts should not be detailed story outlines.
- No prompt spamming.
Please direct any questions to the Ask a mod post. For inspiration: list of kinks .
Prompt, write, draw, comment, and most importantly have fun! Please link to your fills on the fill post.
Here's the discussion post for all your non-prompt/fill needs.
We now have a non-DCEU prompt post for any prompts in other 'verses (comics, animated series, other movies or TV shows etc.).
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Fill: Fatigue is the Best Pillow (2/?)
(Anonymous) 2016-04-20 12:10 pm (UTC)(link)(There are some things he can never get separated out quite right.)
Clark raises his eyebrows in a silent question. Bruce realises he can sense his elevated pulse--can probably hear it--and his throat tightens with something raw, momentarily overwhelmed by how attuned Clark is to him. It's a level of intimacy that steps beyond sex, and riding on that, a reminder that Clark exists outside of Bruce’s mortal sphere, that he’s not just another man like Bruce is.
It's easy to forget that, when he can brace his feet and use the strength in his thighs to turn Clark over, and Clark will pretend for him, just rolls with it and drops onto his back obediently.
Bruce straddles him, draws his hand over Clark’s chest and tries to get his head straight again, to get back down to the physicality of it. Instead he wonders if Clark can hear his bones knit and his bruises heal, or if he can tell that the joints of his fingers have started aching on wet days. He is not a man who scares easily, so he doesn’t know why that’s so terrifying to him.
Then Clark nudges his hips upward in a brash, unsubtle reminder that’s he’s turned on, and that it’s entirely Bruce’s fault. “In your own time, old man,” he says, grinning. “Unless you’re having more fun daydreaming.” He scuffs Bruce’s chin with his thumb, nail rasping across his stubble.
The dawn is breaking, early sun turning the lake’s surface to light. Bruce dips his head, lets himself smile a little. “I’m sorry,” he says. “That was rude.”
“An apology from Bruce Wayne. Maybe I’m the one dreaming.”
Bruce rolls his eyes.
“Could I get it in writing? I want to frame it and put it on my desk.”
“You’ve got a smart mouth on you, Kent.”
Clark laughs, runs the palm of his hand over Bruce’s hip. “That I do. But. Bruce, I know you’re a guy who likes to keep his secrets--and I understand that, how could I not--but if there’s ever something you need to get off your chest, I’m also a good listener.”
Bruce thinks about the vibration of his heartbeat, the grind of his bones, the ragged cut of his breath, speared on a nightmare. The sound pearls make striking a sidewalk. The sound a hero makes hitting the ground.
“I’m actually a real huge fan of not talking,” Bruce says. “When I should be screwing.”
“Then what’s the big delay?” Clark asks, and tosses him a bottle of lube. Bruce catches it one-handed, slicks up his fingers and refuses to break eye contact while he works himself open and works himself down, taking Clark inside with the same kind of determination he approaches everything else.
Bruce rides him slow, works hard to feel the sweat break over his shoulders and forehead and the exertion pull at the muscles in his thighs and calves. He is mostly soft, still recovering from their gym session, but it doesn't diminish the pleasure he takes in this. Less of a distraction, if anything.
One of Clark’s hand settles on gripping the inside of his thigh, the other rude against his chest, tracing the gnarl of an old scar and then brushing over his nipple. The bright dart of sensation makes Bruce falter in his rhythm, and he grabs Clark’s hand away so he can’t do it again. He takes his other hand, too, before he can get any clever ideas, and pins his wrists above his head.
Clark grins up at him; he could break free as easy as breathing, but instead he wets his lips and groans and takes advantage of Bruce leaning over to gather some leverage. He thrusts hard enough to drive Bruce’s forehead against his shoulder, takes control of the pace and makes Bruce work to keep his balance.
Bruce’s stubbled cheek rasps against Clark’s collarbone and his breath is humid in the crook of his shoulder. He gets a little lost in it and doesn’t remember when Clark got his hands free, but his palm is cupped at the nape of Bruce’s neck, the other in the small of his back, holding Bruce steady as he grinds down on his cock.
All he can hear is the rattle of the bedframe, his own panting and Clark murmuring, “Good, you’re so good, Bruce.” He wants to tell him how much that isn’t true, but he can feel himself starting to come, still only half-hard and trapped between them, a shuddering orgasm that runs deeper and longer than his earlier release.
It’s still not enough.
“Good,” Clark says again. He slips out and maneuvers them so he’s pressed to Bruce’s back, still hard and hot against Bruce’s skin but obviously willing to settle in for the morning. Bruce feels him kiss his shoulder.
“‘M not done yet,” Bruce tells him, pushing off the deceptive haze that’s telling him to sleep. If it’s a soft and comfortable descent, then nightmares are sure to follow. He needs to keep going until he technically passes out. “And neither are you.”
*
Re: Fill: Fatigue is the Best Pillow (2/?)
(Anonymous) 2016-04-20 11:25 pm (UTC)(link)I love your cheeky, but still sweet Clark. Bruce riding him and being all determined and trying to wear himself out (and almost enjoying it more while he's still soft) is so fucking hot. And then all of this:
Bruce’s stubbled cheek rasps against Clark’s collarbone and his breath is humid in the crook of his shoulder. He gets a little lost in it and doesn’t remember when Clark got his hands free, but his palm is cupped at the nape of Bruce’s neck, the other in the small of his back, holding Bruce steady as he grinds down on his cock.
All he can hear is the rattle of the bedframe, his own panting and Clark murmuring, “Good, you’re so good, Bruce.” He wants to tell him how much that isn’t true, but he can feel himself starting to come, still only half-hard and trapped between them, a shuddering orgasm that runs deeper and longer than his earlier release.
IDFGJODHGDGFKJDBJD I HAVE NO WORDS FOR HOW MUCH I LOVE THIS. And determined Bruce demanding more, fuck yeah. This fill is awesome, anon author. :D
Re: Fill: Fatigue is the Best Pillow (2/?)
(Anonymous) 2016-04-27 11:13 pm (UTC)(link)Basically what I'm trying to say is: I have no idea what I'm doing and I'm so glad you're enjoying it anyway, hooray :D
Re: Fill: Fatigue is the Best Pillow (2/?)
(Anonymous) 2016-04-25 01:23 am (UTC)(link)So hott
Can't wait for more
Re: Fill: Fatigue is the Best Pillow (2/?)
(Anonymous) 2016-04-27 11:18 pm (UTC)(link)Cheers, anon!