DCEU Prompt Post #1

[dceu_kinkmod]

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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Comments

[FILL] Bootleg, 5/5 [Bruce/Clark, kidnapping and Superman merchandise]

[(Anonymous)]

Bruce paused. "Too much?" he asked, idly stroking as though he were unaware that Clark was pouring every shred of his restraint into prolonging this. Surely Bruce could feel the deep throb of his pulse beneath his fingertips. Surely he could hear the violent thunder of Clark's heart.

Clark squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed. He'd had his encounters with pain--enough to know this felt nothing like it--yet it held a similar depth of intensity, the impression that he was on the brink of some momentous, or terrible, revelation. It was uncommon for physical sensation to register with him this way, like he wasn't safe inside his own skin. The last time he'd felt like this he'd been with Bruce, too.

He exhaled loudly; the tape held his breath warm and moist against his lips.

"I'll take that as a yes." Bruce eased up on his merciless affection and instead leaned over Clark's chest to carefully peel the tape from his face. He sat back and dismay passed across his face; presumably he'd noticed the state of his headboard. Clark craned his neck to survey the damage. It was looking pretty bent up.

"You know," Bruce said, "I don't know why, but destroying the furniture didn't factor into my plans this evening."

"Make better plans next time."

Bruce shot him a dry look and reached for the vibrator. Some part of Clark registered this as a threat, and he kicked out to send it spinning to the other end of the room. It made an abrasive buzzing noise against the tile then stuttered out dead.

Bruce looked to it, then back at Clark, consternation in the crease of his brow, and everything Clark had wanted to say to him this evening dammed up in his throat. He reached out and took Bruce by one shoulder instead, and the other. Duct tape clung in shreds from his wrists. Bruce turned his face and kissed the jut of Clark's wristbone through its plastic surface, then tore off a strip with a quick, hard yank.

It didn't hurt at all, but a shiver rippled through Clark from crown to heel.

"That wasn't slow," he said, and pulled Bruce down onto him.

Bruce braced himself, eyes closed for a moment, shoulders rising as he took a deep, deliberate breath. "Hold on," he said. He sounded gratifyingly strained, the meditative attitude he'd kept on with finally giving way. He'd stopped pretending there was nothing new in this for him. He reached down and Clark felt him fumble himself out of his sweats, a stamp of heat against Clark's skin that made his breath catch.

He stroked his hand down the back of Clark's thigh and lifted his knee into the crook of his elbow, adjusting the angle as though he were about to push right into him dry.

"Hey," Clark said in mild rebuke. It made Bruce laugh, a low rumble that vibrated against Clark's chest. Clark wanted to laugh with him, that fluttering lightness in his ribcage bursting to be out. Instead he choked on it when Bruce slowly thrust forward and his cock slid into the valley of Clark's hip.

"You were holding back. Under the circumstances, I'm impressed," Bruce said.

Bruce wasn't ungenerous with his feedback. In fact, he'd offer it whether Clark wanted it or not. Usually it gave Clark a frisson of satisfaction when it was positive, a glow of pride, even--but delivered here, like this, it was a depth charge. Clark's hips jerked up; his dick dragged across the contour of Bruce's stomach.

"I wrecked your bed, and your--your toy," Clark breathlessly pointed out.

"But not me."

"That's--that's a good thing. Why do you sound disappointed?"

"No reason," Bruce said, and shoved Clark against the crumpled headboard with long, full thrusts that made the bed thump up against the wall. His cock drew hot friction alongside Clark's; the crest of his hipbone rolled against the back of Clark's thigh. Then he slowed and steadied into purposeful grind, and Clark found himself right back on the edge.

He pressed his fingers into the muscle of Bruce's shoulder, and Bruce grabbed his wrist and slammed it to the mattress, the remains of the duct tape crinkling under his grip.

"This won't hold me," Clark insisted, but at the same time he was chasing the idea that it would, because Bruce was already pinning him with his body and his bare hand and Clark was letting him. He could keep letting him, and never forget exactly how it felt to have the weight of the Bat bearing down on him.

He was pretty sure that shouldn't feature on his hierarchy of needs. He flung his head back and came anyway.

Bruce fell still, relaxing his grip on Clark's knee; Clark immediately dug his heels into the mattress and arched, thrusting between them as he kept on coming. Bruce could probably feel Clark pulsing against the soft skin of his stomach, the hot flood of it.

"I know," Bruce said tightly into his ear, then rolled off and onto his back. Clark watched, rapt, as he curled one hand between his legs and jerked himself with the other, his fingers shining with Clark's come. His mouth was pressed into a tight line, and Clark--he meant to run his thumb across Bruce's lower lip, encourage him to slacken up and breathe and maybe make a sweet sound or two, but as he reached over he knew he wasn't going to do that.

Clark laid the palm of his hand over Bruce's mouth like a gag. Bruce glanced sidelong at him, clenched his teeth and went perfectly still. His breath huffed from his nose over Clark's knuckles, and then he came over himself with a long shudder.

Okay, Clark thought. Okay. He'd be down for a more faithful reconstruction next time, if that's how it was.

Bruce peeled Clark's hand from his face and then flattened him with what felt like a remarkably sincere if messy kiss, and then another that was more considered but no less agreeable. Clark smiled into it, until Bruce shifted over him and things… slid.

He made a face. Bruce made one back at him. "Shower?"

"Yup." Clark picked at the tape on his wrists; it left flecks of gray glue in his arm hair. "And whatever you used to get rid of this."

"Oh, you know what, I am fresh out," Bruce said. He yanked another strip of tape from Clark's skin, then kissed the spot.

So much for aftercare. Clark shoved Bruce over so that he'd slope off and take the first shower, since he didn't seem inclined to get up of his own accord. He stepped out of his sweats and left them in the middle of the floor on his way. Clark stared at them and listened to the white noise of running water, letting his brain loop pleasantly through the afternoon until he caught sight of the vibrator fetched up against the glass wall.

He pulled his pants up far enough to be considered modest to any lurking paparazzi and planted a foot on the floor, leaning off the bed to grab it. If it was broken he could try to fix it, and maybe he'd be let off the hook for reflexively propelling it halfway across the room. He turned it in his hands; the batteries and switch would be in the base--

And also on the base was a bat symbol, molded into the black plastic.

"Unbelievable," Clark said to himself.

"Don't worry about fixing that," Bruce said, naked except for the towel he was using to dry his hair. "I could only get them made in batches. I have dozens of the damn things."

Clark stared at him.

Bruce shrugged. "Want to break some more? I'm free to be kidnapped next Thursday."

***