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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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Re: Bruce/Clark, depowered!Clark is the biggest damsel in distress - Part Ten
(Anonymous) 2016-06-10 04:01 pm (UTC)(link)-------
Clark’s hand is warm against his. Bruce briefly closes his eyes, and turns away slightly. He’d really prefer not to look into Clark’s eyes right now – he doesn’t think he can stand to see the rising hope he knows he’ll see in them. He knows he’ll see the beginnings of a hopeful smile. Because of course he’ll be smiling – even with the cut on his cheek and the gash on his forehead and that wound by his throat, Clark will still be trying – still sending out small feelers to Bruce to test what he can do, and how far he can move before Bruce will push him away.
Bruce isn’t even sure he knows he’s doing it. In fact, he’s quite sure he doesn’t. Of all the things Clark is, manipulative isn’t one of them.
So much of Bruce is tempted to give in to what he knows Clark is so readily offering him. For a moment, he almost wants to laugh – even without his powers, Clark is still Superman, and it seems bizarre to him to know that in this second, he, Bruce Wayne, Batman, holds so much power over him. There’s a thousand things he could say or do next; some of them kind, others kinder still, even though Clark may not appreciate it right at this very moment.
This is the problem with Clark, though: it’s the same problem that’s seen him hauled every which way over the past few weeks, and threatened more times than Bruce can count.
He’s not frightened of the things he should be.
“Bruce?” Clark says again, and this time his fingers squeeze a little harder on his hand.
Bruce closes his eyes again. “What?”
“I’m sorry,” Clark says again.
Yes, because that’s what this situation warrants – more apologies, Bruce thinks viciously, and almost tugs his hand away.
In the end, however, he simply shakes his head. “Christ, I need a drink.”
He – gently – slides his hand from Clark’s and makes his way across the room, to where there’s a decanter of scotch and two glasses sitting on a desk nearby, and Bruce pours himself a drink, tossing it back before turning to Clark.
“Do you want one?” A thought occurs to him. “Can you even get drunk?”
Clark looks a little bewildered, his eyes going to the decanter before returning to Bruce. He licks his lips. “I can,” he says. “Even with my powers. I just thought it wouldn’t be… very wise.”
He has a point there, Bruce has to admit. A drunk Superman stumbling around Metropolis, trying to ride the subway because he knows he shouldn’t be either driving or flying right now is… all right, it’s possibly one of the more amusing mental images he’s had of Clark.
“Fair enough,” Bruce says, pouring himself another glass and then knocking that one back too. It’s nowhere near enough to get him drunk – he has a lot of years of drinking under his belt – but the warmth that coils through his veins is a welcome break from the weeks of cold tension he’s been living with. And then the awkwardness this morning. And, hell, any of the things that Clark has been subtly intimating.
It’s not that he thinks Clark is trying to seduce him; it’s that Clark hasn’t even pulled all the strings together in his mind yet about what he thinks or what he wants.
He is, for the first time, vulnerable physically as well as emotionally, and this is, perhaps, forcing him to face up to some of the things that have lain dormant within him for some time now. Ever since he woke up in his grave, crawled his way out of it, and found that the life he had built for himself as Clark Kent had been pretty much blasted to hell.
Bruce had been keeping a watchful eye on him. And he’d thought, when the time came, he’d have some way of dealing with it.
However, as per usual whenever Clark gets involved in anything, his best-laid plans go completely to hell.
It doesn’t help that Clark’s bouts of introspection more usually focus not on what he wants, but how he can be what other people want him to be – how he can live up to the expectations placed on him. Bruce knows that sooner or later, he’ll figure it out, and he’s been dreading the day he looks up and sees the apology in Clark’s eyes; the one that says I’m sorry, but that’s – I mean, you’re my friend, but I….
Now that he realises that perhaps he’ll look up and not see an apology after all, but instead warmth and willingness, Bruce isn’t sure which one terrifies him more.
Bruce runs a hand over his face, picks up the decanter and sits down heavily on an armchair, some distance away from Clark. The Batsuit isn’t the most comfortable thing to lounge around in, but he’s too bone-tired to get up and strip off now.
Clark, on the other chair, is waiting, quiet and patient, and Bruce can see the question in his eyes.
“It’s fine, Clark,” he says eventually, his voice hoarse. “Forget about it. You’re right – nothing happened.”
Clark frowns. “No, I was careless. And I won’t do it again – it was my fault. I’ll stay in until my powers return. I –”
He stops talking when Bruce starts laughing, low and throaty. His throat feels a little warm from the scotch, a little burned.
“What?” Clark asks, looking disgruntled.
“Just stop arguing with me,” Bruce says. “I say you were careless, you say you weren’t. I tell you to forget about it, and you immediately start arguing that you’re the one to blame. I swear, Clark, you can be the most contrary person.”
Clark opens his mouth – he’s just itching to argue, Bruce can tell, but that would just prove his point – before snapping it shut again, looking away.
“Why do you do this, Bruce?” Clark’s voice when he does eventually speak again is soft.
“Do what?” Bruce knows what he’s talking about. And this is Clark all over – always rushing headlong into things. He never stops to think.
Clark looks at him, his eyes pale in the meager white light of the cave. “You know what.”
Typically direct, Bruce thinks. But he doesn’t say anything.
“I… asked you to stay. I didn’t want to argue with you,” Clark says.
Bruce watches as Clark’s gaze dips from his eyes to his lips and hover there for just the briefest second, before he raises it again.
He’s suddenly very, very tired. Running around after Clark is a full-time job, and he doesn’t need even more work.
“What did you want, then?”
Clark doesn't say anything. “I –” he begins, before cutting himself off.
Bruce closes his eyes, the silence thickening the air between them. He hears Clark stand and take a few steps, and when he opens his eyes again, he almost expects to see him heading towards the steps leading to the entrance of the house. But instead, Clark is standing in front of him, slightly unsteadily, hair disheveled, blood staining his shirt and covered in scratches and bandages, but with a look in his eyes that tells Bruce he’s finally figured it out.
When he sits down on the low coffee table in front of him and leans forward, Bruce doesn’t look away. All the little strings that have been tugging at Clark’s mind have finally been pulled together.
Bruce knows he should laugh at him, tell him cruelly to pull himself together and go get himself a girlfriend if he’s really that lonely. That of all the other things Clark demands of him, he wants this too – and that’s really all it would take, even implying that this is an imposition, and Clark would fold himself back up again, stand, and never mention it ever again.
As he’s always said – there’s kindness and then there’s kindness.
“Bruce,” Clark says, his voice desperate and soft, as he raises his hand to Bruce’s face, running his thumb over his cheekbone.
Clark’s breath is warm on his face, and they hang there, as if in suspension, for just a moment, before Clark’s lips are on his, hungrily, inelegantly, pushing his mouth open with his tongue.
Bruce knows he should stop it – and could, if he wanted to – but there’s only so much a man can take. And Clark, with all the warmth and willingness that Bruce has feared he’ll look up and see in his eyes, is kissing him, his hand on his face while Bruce’s own come up to grip his shoulders, as if trying to anchor him where he is.
Clark may not be an elegant or especially skilled kisser, but for all that, he makes up for it with the kind of aching sincerity that Bruce hasn’t felt in a long time – is not sure, now that he thinks about it, he has ever truly felt. Clark’s mouth his hot and deep around his tongue, his teeth grazing gently over his lower lip.
When Bruce’s hand slides lower and finds the bare skin of his flank beneath the hem of his shirt, Clark sucks in a breath a pulls back slightly.
“Um, I – my ribs –”
It takes a moment for Bruce to remember – Clark’s bruised fucking ribs – and then he laughs, humourlessly and coldly.
He sees a confused expression cross Clark’s face. “What?”
Bruce shakes his head. “Nothing.”
He kisses him again, because he doesn’t want to hear the question that’ll inevitably come out of Clark’s mouth next. It’s done now – and if he’s in for a penny, he may as well be in for a pound.
For the moment, at least.
Once again, it’s deep and slow, Clark unguardedly opening his mouth and letting Bruce guide him, falling into him fully and completely.
Bruce only pulls back when he feels that Clark is shivering – long, strange shudders that seem to pass along the whole length of his body.
“What’s happening?” Bruce asks.
Clark’s eyes are still shut, squeezed together, his lips still slightly parted, swollen and wet.
“I – I only kissed L… I mean, I’ve only kissed before when I was… when I had my powers. This is… this is different.”
Bruce takes a moment to study him, the breathless way he’s sucking in air, the slight shake in his hands – Of course it would be, he thinks vaguely, with the part of his brain that isn’t crowded with other things. Why wouldn’t it be?
“Do it again,” Clark murmurs, before his hand has wrapped around the back of Bruce’s head, and he pulls him forward once more.
Re: Bruce/Clark, depowered!Clark is the biggest damsel in distress - Part Ten
(Anonymous) 2016-06-10 10:30 pm (UTC)(link)That of all the other things Clark demands of him, he wants this too – and that’s really all it would take, even implying that this is an imposition, and Clark would fold himself back up again, stand, and never mention it ever again.
OUCH. Thank you for being the better sort of kind, Bruce. And is that some hyper-sensitive Clark at the end there? :D :D
Re: Bruce/Clark, depowered!Clark is the biggest damsel in distress - Part Ten
(Anonymous) 2016-06-11 12:09 pm (UTC)(link)Yesssss :D It would be a shame to put him through all this newfound ability to feel things fully by giving him only pain, he must also have something nice XD
Thank you!!! :DD
Re: Bruce/Clark, depowered!Clark is the biggest damsel in distress - Part Ten
(Anonymous) 2016-06-11 02:25 am (UTC)(link)But you got there in the end, anon - and may I just say, CONGRATULATIONS :D
I read this like four hours ago and just could not come up with any words, so I went and did other things and then came back and read it again, and I'm trying to do better this time but ANON. I just have SO MANY FEELINGS about Bruce overthinking everything in such a perfect Bruce way, gagging himself silent with all this foreboding and restraint and doubt, and then Clark reaching straight through it because he's just patient enough to last until the right moment to be stubborn. /o\ GOD. THE FEELINGS.
And then KISSING and Clark may not be an elegant or especially skilled kisser, but for all that, he makes up for it with the kind of aching sincerity that Bruce hasn’t felt in a long time and Clark SHIVERING with it, hng, and just. STICK A FORK IN ME BECAUSE I AM SO DONE
that's a lie, I'm not done at all because there's going to be more parts, right? right? right?
Re: Bruce/Clark, depowered!Clark is the biggest damsel in distress - Part Ten
(Anonymous) 2016-06-11 12:14 pm (UTC)(link)And ahaha, yesss, there will be one, maybe even two more parts -- it would be a shame for Clark not to get to find out more about how different things feel now he's depowered *eyebrow wiggle*
Re: Bruce/Clark, depowered!Clark is the biggest damsel in distress - Part Ten
(Anonymous) 2016-06-11 03:21 am (UTC)(link)OP
Author!anon, you came back and that's all that matters. RL is always understandable.
And what a sweet continuation! I'm such a sucker for slow kisses and the added touch that it feels different for depowered Clark is even better! My heart can't take the happiness
Re: Bruce/Clark, depowered!Clark is the biggest damsel in distress - Part Ten
(Anonymous) 2016-06-11 12:17 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Bruce/Clark, depowered!Clark is the biggest damsel in distress - Part Ten
(Anonymous) 2016-06-11 09:55 pm (UTC)(link)"Bruce knows he should laugh at him, tell him cruelly to pull himself together and go get himself a girlfriend if he’s really that lonely. That of all the other things Clark demands of him, he wants this too – and that’s really all it would take, even implying that this is an imposition, and Clark would fold himself back up again, stand, and never mention it ever again."
And of course even kissing feels different for Clark now. Can't wait for more. :DDD
Re: Bruce/Clark, depowered!Clark is the biggest damsel in distress - Part Ten
(Anonymous) 2016-06-12 05:51 am (UTC)(link)Next part is going to be, uh, well, jjst kind of porny I think XDDD