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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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Bruce/Clark, breathplay fill - pt 3
(Anonymous) 2016-05-09 12:04 pm (UTC)(link)Bruce can tell he’s surprised from the way his eyes fly open again – he’s gotten used to that pain, Bruce reflects. So it’s time to try something different. This is what he came here for, and called Clark here for. The things he can’t do with anyone else, their bodies writhing against each other in the dark.
He released his grip on Clark’s heavy cock, his own blood stirring a little at the strangled noise that forces its way past the man’s lips. He has been painfully hard for some time now, but he’s pushed that into the corner of his mind, ignored it, the same way he has learned to ignore all the needs of his body until he’s ready to deal with them.
Sitting back on his heels, Bruce opens his suit, taking out his hard cock, holding it in his hand. Clark’s eyes fall on it immediately, as if they’re drawn to it by magnetism, and he runs the tip of his tongue over his lips. For a moment, Bruce is tempted simply to feed it to him, force it down his endless throat until he chokes.
But again, that’s not what he’s come here for tonight.
Bruce withdraws a little, and Clark moans, swaying a little, his cock swaying a little at the movement, dripping over his stomach, his balls heavy with unspilled come.
“Bruce, please, I need you – I need –”
His words are cut off as Bruce throws himself forward, one hand going to Clark’s hip, the other to his throat, pressing down just above the collar. He stares into Clark’s eyes, watching comprehension dawn, just before he presses down, and they slide shut.
Bruce looks down, looking between their bodies where their cocks are pressed against each other. He brings his hand up to wrap around them both, as far as he can manage, before thrusting his hips forward. Clark arches up off the ground, as far as Bruce’s weight pressing down on him and the bonds of the leash will allow him, the muscles in his stomach twitching, his breath coming in short, breathless gasps around Bruce’s hand.
The heat of Clark against him sends pleasure spiraling through Bruce’s body; already he can feel that dark gathering at the base of his spine, the slow build in his cock. Nonetheless, he lets himself thrust forward twice more, squeezing them together, letting pain spike through the building pleasure. When he moves back, releasing them, he buries his face in the white arch of Clark’s neck, bound by the collar, before shoving his hips forward. Clarks stiffens beneath him, every muscle going taut, as Bruce rubs his cock against him, letting him feel the length and the hardness; barely brushing over the entrance to Clark’s body. Clark jerks against him, as he’s trying to force himself down onto his dick, his back bending, desperate.
He doesn’t want it to be that easy, though; Bruce simply ruts against him, ignoring Clark’s increasingly desperate moans. Clark is so ready for him, so willing, so desperate to be filled, but Bruce needs to make himself wait. There is nothing he wants more than to bury himself to the hilt, to fuck Clark until neither of them know their own names.
But he’s methodical. When he is doing something he has never done before, he wants to devote time and attention to getting it right.
So he forces himself to heave back, taking his lips from Clark’s throat, though not without leaving a dark red mark behind him. The collar worries against it, pressing on it.
Bruce slides his hand down over Clark’s steel-perfect muscles, squares his hip to him, and then presses forward, sinking himself into the throbbing, living heat of Clark’s body.
Clark arches to meet him, his head thrown back, everything in him taut and straining. Bruce cannot hold back a groan as he pushes past the ring of his muscle; there is nothing that can compare to this, this first penetration, no matter how many times he may do it. Clark’s body holds him like a glove, seemingly trying to draw him in deeper, even when he is sheathed to the hilt, buried as deep as he can go.
He lies there a moment, simply feeling the twitch of Clark’s muscles around him, the heave of his chest. Clark’s lungs are filling with air in a way they do not ordinarily need to, pushing out and then drawing it in again, sustaining him despite the dark hold of the kryptonite at his throat. Bruce grits his teeth as Clark squeezes himself around his cock, evidently trying to spur him to some movement, but Bruce forces the surge of pleasure that nearly overtakes him back, forcing his mind to stay focused.
He is slow, at first, pulling himself in and out of Clark’s body with long, slow drags of his hips, feeling his body flutter every time he pushes forward. The next time Clarks opens his mouth, the sound that emerges is almost a sob, and Bruce feels his control wavering, if only for a second. The sound sends fire down his veins, darts of pleasure curling through his body, his dick twitching where it rests inside Clark’s body.
The cry that rises in Clark’s throat when Bruce makes his first hard thrust bounds off the walls around them, echoing through the empty chambers of the Manor, disturbing whatever creatures have made their home here since its destruction. As Bruce speeds his movements, shoving his hips forward quickly and brutally now, the cries that leave Clark’s lips and those that are still flying around them become indistinguishable. Clark has never held back the noises he makes when Bruce touches him; when he fucks him. It’s just one other thing that Bruce files away in his mind about him, and tries not to consider too hard until later, but then never quite makes the time.
He can feel dark heat gathering in his groin, feel the pull of everything within him surging towards one single point, and he forces himself to slow, pausing as he shifts his weight, the sweat over their skin making him slide against Clark’s body. The clench of Clark’s muscles around him in reaction seems to wash over his whole body, sends white heat licking over his nerves, and Bruce has to struggle to concentrate.
Leaving his left hand where it grips Clark’s hip, Bruce raises his right, catching Clark’s throat in his fingers. He presses down, his thumb over the pulse that flutters in Clark’s neck, squeezing ever so slightly. He watches as fear spreads over Clark’s face at the unfamiliar sensation – he might know that that kryptonite means he has to breath far more regularly than usual, but Bruce is sure that he has never known what it feels like to suddenly be deprived of oxygen; has never felt the panicked instinct rise in his chest when he finds he cannot breath.
Bruce eases his grip for a moment, only to tighten it again when he thrust forward, feeling Clark’s feeble struggle beneath him. His eyes are locked onto Bruce’s, mouth widening as he seeks after a breath that will not come. Bruce watches him, knowing that he’s doing so at the expense of giving himself over to his own pleasure, keeping his hips moving steadily, driving himself into Clark over and over again.
The fear in Clark’s eyes becomes panic as he realises that this time, Bruce isn’t slackening his grip; his fingers remain where there are, pressed against his windpipe, just above the collar, his thumb reducing his pulse to a thread. He watches as Clark’s lips part, hi mouth open wide, heaving in what sips of breath he can around Bruce's fingers, as his eyes slowly begin to roll back in his head, before snapping shut.
Now, Bruce thinks. It has to be now.
Shifting his weight, he takes his hand from Clark’s hip and curls it around his cock, griping it firmly, jerking up and down along his length, sticky and glistening from the copious amounts of pre-come Clark has spilled over himself. His cock is as stiff as Bruce has ever felt it, his pulse beating against Bruce’s palm, warm and solid and hard as steel.
Bruce shoves himself forward twice more, one hard digging into Clark’s throat, the other circling his dick, and then he feels Clark spilling his come over his palm, spurting in warm waves that drip down his wrist and spatter on to Clark’s own chest and abs. Bruce keeps rubbing him up and down, milking him of every last drop, until his cock is twitching in his hand, spent and useless.
The tiny cry that escapes Clark’s throat is ragged and hoarse, barely a sound at all; it’s not the sound of pleasure, but of the desperate attempt to suck air into his lungs. Bruce grunts; Clark’s muscles twitch around him, his body pulling itself tight, squeezing itself into a tight ball of panic. It’s only then that Bruce lets him go, and Clark gasps in a breath, a massive, wheezing gulp of air.
In the next second, Bruce feels his orgasm bearing down on him, coming almost unexpectedly, tearing through him with a force he has come to know, but never to expect. Every time it shocks him just how deeply he is shaken; just how powerful and engulfing. His orgasms at times like this seem almost ripped from his body, leaving his nerves ragged and tattered behind it. He empties himself into Clark, his hips jerking in spasms, gasps leaving him in spasms; for the moment at least completely empty of all thoughts; of everything except engulfing pleasure and heat.
All that remains is the husk of himself, his memories, his surroundings, all of them obliterated if only temporarily.
It's this that he is constantly chasing, every time he calls Clark to him; it’s this momentary void that, in the moment, makes him feel the kind of peace he has never found anywhere else.
He doesn’t know how long it takes him to come back to himself, only that when he does, he’s curled over Clark’s body, sweat dripping from his chest and onto Clark’s, his hand still curled loosely around Clark’s throat. Clark’s hands are still tied, of course, the collar still around his neck, still necessitating the breath that is heavy in his chest. He’s still buried in Clark’s body, his softening cock only just now beginning to slide out, his come forming a slick puddle on the ground below.
Sitting up, Bruce reaches down and tears the collar off him and throwing it across the vast chamber, into the darkness beyond. Beneath him, Clark suddenly jerks awake, or at least, out of whatever state he had drifted into after Bruce had choked him, forced him to come while his breath died ragged in his throat.
Clark blinks, his blue eyes slowly focusing. Bruce watches him, curious, in a detached way, to know what he’ll see there – if this has finally been a step too far, if this is the time that Clark will say to him, no more. But as he looks up at him, his eyes clearing of the haze, Bruce sees nothing other than what he always sees: deep assurance, acceptance. The question of whether Bruce got what he wanted, and the willingness to do it again if he hasn’t.
Bruce jerks himself to standing, even when his knees protest. He shoves his soft cock back inside his pants, and then turns and walks away.
Re: Bruce/Clark, breathplay fill - pt 3
(Anonymous) 2016-05-09 09:03 pm (UTC)(link)I love how many details there are in this. How Clark has taught himself to appear more human, for one, but also how comfortable he is around Bruce (and how it actually freaks Bruce out a little). I also love that the collar makes an appearance! Fuck yeah, kryptonite collar!
Tonight he’s cold and hard and there’s only one body on the face of the earth that can take what he wants to dish out.
I am so, so into this. And I love how hard Bruce gets off on the power trip of having Clark at his mercy. And there's something so hot about Clark's helpless struggling.
This is more than just libido, Bruce sometimes realises when he lets himself think about it, which isn’t often – this is trying to fill a crack that runs so deep within him that filling it is like trying to fill an empty well. He has tried for years, filling it with everything and nothing, but until this – until Clark – he never even came close. Even if it drains empty again every morning, it doesn’t change the fact that the only moments of peace he’s known have been there, with this man.
AND THEN YOU GIVE ME FEELS! I also love that they're doing this in the ruined manor, like that's a normal thing to do, fucking your superhuman totally-not-boyfriend in the burnt out ruin of your parents' house. :D And that Clark is wearing his Superman suit and Bruce just cuts it open, unf. ALSO YES SIZE KINK, CLARK BEING HUGE AND BRUCE LOVING IT, I AM ALWAYS HERE FOR THAT.
I love that Clark is such a mess in this whole fic, needy and helpless and so turned on. And then the choking at the end and the actual fucking, I don't even have WORDS for how hot this is, especially when Clark starts to panic. I'm dead and you killed me, congrats.
The ending is so bittersweet - that moment when they just lie there together, but then Bruce gets up immediately, how Bruce worries that he went too far, but Clark is still there for him and cares about him and OF COURSE Bruce runs away from that, because what are feelings? This is absolutely wonderful. Thank you so much for writing this. :D And I hope you write many more fics for this ship because this is so great.
Re: Bruce/Clark, breathplay fill - pt 3
(Anonymous) 2016-05-10 02:54 am (UTC)(link)I admit, I had way too much fun with this, and just thought, 'WHAT THE HEY', and threw in a bunch of my other fave kinks like size kink and cutting off clothes and usually strong characters being all helpless XD
If I can carve out some time, I'd still love to write the mutual choking thing as maybe a little semi-continuation, where Bruce wants to know what it feels like, he's still not quite ready to let go yet, though XD
Once again nonnie, I'm so glad you liked it, and thank you so much for this lovely feedback :DDD
Re: Bruce/Clark, breathplay fill - pt 3
(Anonymous) 2016-05-10 02:20 am (UTC)(link)Like, I thought I was dead of the collar, okay, and of Clark's tacit trust and willingness to experiment with Bruce, and of Bruce's preoccupation with Clark when he's helpless, but, oh, look:
Clark blinks, his blue eyes slowly focusing. Bruce watches him, curious, in a detached way, to know what he’ll see there – if this has finally been a step too far, if this is the time that Clark will say to him, no more. But as he looks up at him, his eyes clearing of the haze, Bruce sees nothing other than what he always sees: deep assurance, acceptance. The question of whether Bruce got what he wanted, and the willingness to do it again if he hasn’t.
NO, IT'S THIS. THIS IS WHY I'M DEAD.
/lies down and accepts it
Seriously, anon, this is so marvelous - thank you so much for this fantastic fill, it was great and so are you.
Re: Bruce/Clark, breathplay fill - pt 3
(Anonymous) 2016-05-10 07:55 am (UTC)(link)Thanks again for this super kind feedback :D
Re: Bruce/Clark, breathplay fill - pt 3
(Anonymous) 2016-05-10 06:16 am (UTC)(link)Re: Bruce/Clark, breathplay fill - pt 3
(Anonymous) 2016-05-10 07:57 am (UTC)(link)