Chapter Text
Once was probably one too many times, at this point he was bordering on obsession. He’s been justifying it to himself by saying he needs an outlet if he’s to maintain certain professional relationships. It usually goes something like this.
Bruce takes advantage of some gala’s bar. Drinks until his vision blurs around the edges, then finds someone to take home for the night. Nothing out of the ordinary there, except perhaps for the criteria he has for the people he takes home. Large, as tall and broad as he could find, dark hair, blue eyes, if they had the cleft chin it was all the better. Of course, no one ever came close to the original. No one is as tall and as broad. No one's hair curls in just the right way. No one else has the same piercing oceanic gaze full of frustration and what Bruce could only hope was something fond. No one was Superman, but when Bruce got drunk enough, he liked to pretend.
This particular gala had a very generous bar that Bruce was drinking his way through when he decided on the object of his desires for the evening. He was damn near perfect. The man's ill-fitting suit and poor posture hid it well, but Bruce has enough tactical experience to recognize such a well defined physique. When the man turns his way, Bruce is struck by the familiarity. His chin and nose were the same, but his eyes were softer, kinder some. Bruce is willing to bet he can rile that softness right out of him. He’s perfect. Bruce downs his drink, he’ll make it his last, he doesn’t want to be too sloppy if his new target is the kind of person to care about that sort of thing.
Bruce circles his prey, staying in conversations adjacent to him so he can eavesdrop without being too obvious. It’s always good to do some recon and go in prepared. Bruce gathers his name is Clark Kent, he’s a Daily Planet reporter. He seems a bit out of his league among the Gotham elite, perhaps Bruce could use that to his advantage. The more Bruce sees and hears, the more he wants. This guy has twice the amount of personality as some of his recent pulls. It could be interesting to have someone with at least some thoughts rattling around in their brain. Bruce see’s his opportunity when Kent goes to sit at the bar.
All Bruce’s thoughts of prey and conquest fly out the window as soon as he makes Clark smile. He feels silly, but the rush of endorphins that accompanied the other man's laughter was addicting. He’s not one to let his desires evolve past sexual, but this man was charming in a way that Bruce thought he’d be immune to by now. He was just so genuine, in a world full of delusory characters. It made Bruce want to be the same, which is a hard thing to do when you have a secret identity.
Bruce must do well enough, because Clark leans in close to his ear and whispers “I bet your bedroom has an amazing view”
The limousine ride to Bruce’s penthouse is not long, but it’s long enough to get them both hard and panting against each other. Bruce has elevator access straight from the garage to his top floor suite where they both lose their ties and belts. They tumble through the door, maneuvering around minimalist furniture to get to the bedroom. Clark pushes him against the door that Bruce is fumbling to open. He is loving the heavy press of lips and the hard lines of Clarks body, but he’s also waiting. He wants to see the moment that Clark sees it, the floor to ceiling windows overlooking all of Metropolis. Bruce feels Clarks breath hitch, he opens to see Clarks gaze trained on the skyline.
“Well, is that what you came here for?” Bruce asks, his voice hoarse with the deep desire roiling through his body.
“I’m going to fuck you against that window for the whole city to see.” Clark growled back.
They quickly lost the rest of their clothes. Bruce was exactly right about what kind of body Clark was hiding behind. He was ripped. Bruce feels like he’s in the presence of an adonis. If anyone can cure him of his obsession with Superman, it’d be this man, practically formed straight from Bruce’s dreams.
“I’m going to lay you out and open you up nice and slow. I promise you right now, I’m not going to fuck you until you beg for it.” Clark said, his voice unbearable stern, as he pushed Bruce roughly to the bed. “Can you do that for me, pretty boy?” Bruce just groans in response.
Clark is on top of him faster than Bruce can comprehend. “I asked you a question and I expect an answer. Can you do that? Can you beg like the slut you are?” Bruce nods, but quickly realizes that isn’t good enough when Clark grips him tight by the jaw.
“Yes. Yes, I’ll beg. I’ll be good. Please.” Bruce whines, his voice pitched so far above his usual baritone. He fists the sheets in an effort to control his movement. He’s never felt like this before, each nexus between their bodies felt electric. Bruce was already breathless from the heady feeling of being bossed around like this. Bruce can’t get treatment like this just anywhere, not many people see the 200 pounds of muscle that make up Bruce Wayne and assume he likes subbing. That makes Clark all the more valuable. In this intoxicating moment, Bruce thinks he’d do anything to hold onto this man.
The intensity between them ignites further as Clark settles himself in between Bruce’s spread legs. He takes a moment to get comfortable, as if he’s preparing to spend a lot of time down there. Bruce feels an impatient buzz already. After settling, Clark looks for a moment, getting a good idea of what he’s working with. Then, without any fanfare at all, Clark swallows Bruce down to the base, his cockhead slipping into Clark’s throat with no resistance. If it weren’t for the bruising grip Clark had on Bruce’s hips he would be thrashing. The pleasure was already so overwhelming and Clark has no intention of stopping.
Bruce has no concept of time as Clark slurps and sucks around his cock. Each time Bruce gets close, Clark intuitively pulls back
Just enough to alleviate the pressure. This goes on for however long Clark decides it should. Bruce’s cries for more are left unheeded.
Despite his desperate desire to move on to the main event, Bruce whines when his dick leaves Clark’s mouth with an obscene pop. Clark flips Bruce over like he weighs nothing. He positions Bruce on his knees and elbows, Clark pulls on his hair until his back has to arch to accommodate. Clark folds himself over Bruce to whisper in his ear.
“Are you ready to beg yet?” He growls harshly. Bruce has never been brought down quite this efficiently before, even if he’d want to struggle or get away he probably couldn’t. Clark has shown he has no problem manhandling Bruce despite his large frame.
“Please, please fuck me. I need it. I need your cock.” Bruce babbles, his head going fuzzy.
“Oh Bruce. You beg so pretty, but I’m not going to give in that easily. If you’re a good boy I might give you my cock before sunrise.” Clark punctuates his words with nips and bites along Bruce's neck and jaw, one sharp scrape against his earlobe. Bruce feels like he might cry, he’s already so lost in pleasure, with no real end in sight. He’s completely at Clark’s mercy. The final piece of Bruce’s submission slides into place. Clark must see it, he chuckles. “Now you’re getting it.”
“Please.” Is all Bruce manages.
“Don’t worry, baby. I’ll give you what you need. First I gotta know, what’s your safeword, Bruce?” Clark leans even closer to Bruce’s ear, his tone softer and his breath brushing across his neck.
“Joker” Bruce spits out. The word always sour on his tongue, but that’s the point.
“Good boy.” Clark praises his gentle words as an antithesis to the rough grip he has on Bruce’s hip and hair. “Do you know your colors?”
“Green for good, go ahead. Yellow to slow down and talk about it. Red to stop everything immediately.” Bruce replied instinctually.
“You’re such a good pet aren’t you. Someone trained you well. What’s your color?” Clark asked, his voice slowly hardening once again.
“Green” Bruce practically gasped. As soon as the word was out of Bruce’s mouth, Clark released all his grips on Bruce that were keeping him up. Bruce met the bed roughly, he expected Clark to follow him, pounce on him like times before, but the other man simply stayed where he was. He lavished in watching Bruce Wayne squirm for a moment.
“Clark. Clark please.” Bruce whined, reaching blindly, looking for the other man, seemingly not remembering he can open his eyes. Clark honestly found it adorable. Never has anyone submitted quite so beautifully as Bruce. Clark flipped Bruce over again so he was on his back. This finally prompted Bruce to open his grey blue eyes. Clark feels like he could get lost in the endless storm he sees there.
“Hmm, that doesn’t sound quite right, does it baby? What do you really want to call me?” Clark asks, thrumming with anticipation.
“Superman, please!” Bruce all but shouts, arching up to try and find purchase on Clarks broad chest with his searching mouth. Clarks self control snapped. A growl ripped it’s way from his chest. Clark pinned both of Bruce’s wrists with his one hand, pressing their bodies together from chest to knees. The press and slide of their aching members was an intoxicating feeling for both men. Clark can feel his long drawn out plans slipping through his fingers as the desperation to get inside the man under him was taking its place.
“How’s it feel to be so helpless? To be held down by the strongest man on earth?” Clark goaded. It seemed to be what Bruce wanted to hear. He whined high in his throat and bucked his hips.
“More. I want more.” Bruce continued like a mantra. Clark has to be careful not to give into those please too much. He really was the strongest man on earth, he couldn’t afford to get carried away. Well, perhaps he can get just carried away enough.
Clark released Bruces’ wrists. The other man immediately began to move them to touch his paramour, he didn’t get far before Clark pushed them back down. “You stay exactly where I put you or I’m going to beat your ass black and blue.” He vowed.
“Do you promise?” Bruce retorts, not having lost his snark quite yet. Clark was determined to change that.
“Careful what you wish for my pet.” Clark accentuates his words with a light scrape of his nails down Bruce’s side. His muscles tremble in Clark’s wake. “Do you have lube, any toys?”
Bruce has to take some slow breaths before he can reply, he’s so keyed up. “There’s lube in the top drawer there.” He said with a weak hand motion. “I have a toy.” As he spoke a deep blush painted his cheeks.
“Where’s your toy Bruce?” Clark asked, his voice predatory. He already knew the answer. He could see the girth butt plug settle snug in between his cheeks. He could see it from across the ball room all night. He’d spent the whole evening pushing away dirty thoughts about the billionaire with a huge plug up his ass, but he could only resist so long after said man approached him.
“It’s in me.” Bruce admitted as he spread his legs to show it off. The base was an intricately carved gem that probably cost more than Clark’s apartment. Bruce Wayne doesn’t do anything by halves. He looked so good like this, legs spread in the air, his twitching hole on display.
“You naughty boy. Did you want to be ready for me? Did you finger yourself earlier, thinking how good it would feel to have Superman’s dick inside you?” Clark asked filthily as he played with the plug, pulling it out and nudging in slowly. Twisting it elicits a broken moan from Bruce.
“Yes. Superman, I did it for you. Please I need you to fuck me. I can’t wait any longer.” Bruce begged. His pleas were getting more and more desperate, but he wasn’t quite where Clark wanted him.
“Not yet. I gotta taste you first. Your hole looks like such a treat like this.” He leaned down, his breath ghosting along Bruce’s most sensitive areas. He licks gently around his rim, tonguing the edge of the plug.
“Take it out. Please, take it out. I need you, not the damn plug.” Bruce insisted, wiggling his hips for emphasis. Clark sat up and leaned back on his calves. He wanted to watch Bruce struggle for a while, give him time to earn a punishment. Clark ran his hands up and down Bruce’s legs, a gentle caress, intended to tease more than anything else. Clark knew what he wanted to give, but he had to wait till Bruce asked for it. The longer Clark sat motionless, the louder Bruce got and the more he thrashed, but his hands stayed securely where Clark told him to keep them.
“Such a good boy you are. So patient. You’d wait all night for me wouldn’t you? I could get up and do whatever I wanted and you’d stay right where I told you wouldn’t you?” Clark asked, but Bruce’s only reply was more wordless whining and general wiggling as he searched for some kind of friction.
Clark reeled his arm back and let loose a firm slap across Bruce’s face. Bruce groaned and his cock released a dribble of precum at the impact, which caused Clark to get impossibly harder. Everything about Bruce Wayne seems to come straight from his dreams. “I expect an answer when I ask a question.” Clark reminds Bruce once again, the predatory glint back in his eye. To think Bruce ever thought he would have the upper hand with Clark Kent. “Are you going to be a good boy and sit still while I go get some work done?” Clark asks in an empty threat.
“No, please I can’t. I can’t wait that long.” Bruce begs, Clark thinks he might see tears building in his eyes.
“What’s your color Bruce?” Clark asks gently once again. Bruce thinks a moment before responding “Green”
“Well I guess we’ll just find out how long you can wait.” He threatens, he begins to move away, slow enough to be caught. Bruce immediately reaches out and grabs for Clarks arm. Before Bruce can even think, Clark has his hands pinned again and his cheek is stinging from a hit he didn’t even see coming. “Oh Bruce, that didn’t take long at all. You must want to be punished.”
“Yes. Please. Please punish me Superman. I’ve been bad.” Bruce cried. Clark has never experienced domspace quite like this. All of his heightened senses were trained on the man laid out in front of him. Clark could hear his heartbeat, his blood rush through his veins, he could hear his individual cells divide and multiply. The world is always so loud, but all Clark hears now is Bruce who is begging to be punished and who is he to deny a man such as Bruce Wayne?
Clark let's Bruce move on his own accord. He sits on the edge of the bed and makes Bruce lay across his lap. Bruce huffs out a breath with each sensitive press of the plug inside him. It’s not a small piece and he’s had it in him all night. Clark rubs soothing circles into Bruce’s back as he gets situated.
“Do you know why I’m doing this baby?” Clark asked, rubbing firmly on the plush globes of Bruce’s ass.
“I was bad, I moved when I wasn’t supposed to. I need to be punished. Please. Please Superman, do it.” Each of Bruce’s muscles were taunted, waiting for what was to come. His anticipation was infectious. This would be the hardest part for Clark, estimating exactly how much force to put behind each swing, deciding how many Bruce could take. Bruce was handing Clark so much power that it was blinding. Even more so because Clark had more power than Bruce really knew, he thought he was pretending to fuck Superman, but he was getting the real thing without even knowing. It made Clark want to do right by the man.
Clark gave no warning before the first smack. He used a fraction of the force he intended to work up to. He needed to get Bruce warmed up before he could really give him what he needed. He quickly follows up with three more quick spanks, more sting than real pain. That would change. Clark was not joking. He intends to mark Bruce up for weeks to come. He slowly adds more force to his hits, cupping his hand for maximum impression. Bruce chanted a litany of “Please, more, harder.”
Clark never realised how handy his abilities were in such situations. He could keep a close eye on Bruce’s heart rate for distress, he could even check to make sure he wasn’t doing more damage than breaking blood vessels. The ability to give Bruce exactly what he needs was like a drug running through Clarks veins. It was a feeling he could easily get addicted too.
Clark doesn’t know how many times he ends up spanking the other man, he doesn’t stop until his entire ass is bruised. He rubs firm circles around his ass again, making the bruises ache further. “Is that enough baby? Have you learned your lesson?”
“Yes. I’ll be good. I’ll be patient.” Bruce replied, his muscles had gone lax, his mind was floaty, he felt amazing. Bruce slid himself out of Clarks lap and settled between his knees. The man looked so much smaller like this. Bruce nuzzled his face against Clarks hard cock. “Please Superman, let me say thank you. I want to suck you.”
“Since you asked so nicely I’ll say yes, but you have to do it my way. Put your hands behind your back and stick your tongue out.” Bruce fell into position easily, his eyes shuttered closed in eager anticipation. “Eye’s open pet. I want to see you as you choke on everything I have to give you.” Clark ordered gently, he knew Bruce was going to have a hard time complying with that one, oh boy was he excited to watch him try. Clark centered his breathing for a moment, he didn’t want to come as soon as he was enveloped in Bruce's soft, hot mouth, he wanted this to last. Bruce waited patiently, his fight seemingly left him after the beating he took. He was happy to submit without question.
First Clark circles Bruce’s mouth with his cock, outlining those perfect plush lips, leaving a thin sheen of precum in its wake. Bruce chased the member with his tongue, wanting any taste he could give. Clark takes mercy on his perfect little sub and feeds Bruce his cock slowly. Clark is well endowed and eventually his cock hits the back of Bruce’s throat. The gag reflex truly is a downside of human anatomy that Clark is glad to be free of, but damn does the flutter of his muscles constricting around his sex feels amazing. He pushes just a slight bit further to really make Bruce choke, before pulling back. The sound of Bruce’s harsh breaths were music to Clarks ears. He waits hardly any time at all before pushing back in. Clark grips Bruce’s hair again and pulls him exactly where he wants him. He pulls him off and on his dick at an aggressive pace. Bruce gags and clenches each time Clark presses in, but Clark pays that no mind. Clark gets lost in the feeling of controlling someone else for his own pleasure.
Clark pulls Bruce all the way off his dick, but doesn’t release the tight grip he has on the other man's hair. “Tap me three times if you need me to stop. Do you understand?”
“Yes Superman” Bruce slurred and swayed, drunk off of Clark.
“What’s your color?”
“Green.” Bruce answers easily.
“And what do you do if you need to stop?” Clark asks again. Bruce taps his thigh three times in response. “Goodboy.” Clark resumed his brutal pace of fucking Bruce’s throat. As his own pleasure he was almost at its peak he pulled Bruce completely off to catch his breath. Only allowing a few gulps of air, Clark pulls Bruce back onto his dick right down to the base. His airway was constricted by Clarks dick and his nose was pressed flush to his skin, not allowing him to breathe at all. Clark just held him there. He kept the pressure on the back of his head even as Bruce began to struggle against it, trying to push off. Through the struggle, Bruce keeps his hands neatly folded behind his back. Clark keeps pushing, he throws his head back and closes his eyes. He focuses all his hearing on Bruce and waits for the very last moment before Bruce absolutely needs air.
Right as Bruce is about to pass out from the lack of oxygen, Clark pulls him off, throwing him to the ground to catch his breath. This is the best fuck Bruce has ever had and his hole hasn’t even been touched yet. He tells Clark as much. Clark let’s Bruce breath and gently picks him up to place him on the bed.
“You did so good my sweet boy.” Clark said as he positioned himself behind Bruce so he could lean against the expanse of Clarks chest and keep as much weight off his ass as possible. “You’re my precious thing aren’t you?”
“Yes Superman, I’m yours.” Bruce practically purred. Clarks heart was flooded with warmth followed by a spike of guilt. Was it wrong to hear things Bruce doesn’t really mean for Superman to hear. The morals of this were easier to grapple when Bruce was a faceless figure he lusted over from afar. Now he felt like he could actually care about Bruce, they were certainly compatible. Clark shakes away the thoughts, no use dwelling on them now.
Clark kissed his way up and down Bruce’s neck while he came back to earth a little bit. “You’re pretty good at this for a Kansas farm boy.”
“The shy ones are always the wildest in bed.” Clark accented his words with a bite that would surely leave a mark.
Bruce groaned and replied “You’re going to be the death of me.”
“Do you want to keep going? We don’t have to. I can get you off just like this. I did push you pretty hard there.” Clark said, offering Bruce an out if he needed one.
“You pushed me just hard enough, I promise. It was amazing, you’re amazing.” Bruce replied
“I thought I was super?” Clark shoots back quickly, unable to resist. Bruce growls in response and turns to capture Clarks mouth in a searing kiss. As Bruce gained back his awareness the kiss got filthier. He twisted in Clarks arms so he was straddling the larger man. He ground his ass down so Clark dick presses up against the plug. They both groan at the contact.
“You made me a promise, Superman. I held up my side of the bargain, it’s time for you to hold up yours.” Bruce goads as he continues to grind relentlessly.
“Oh, I’ll hold up something.” Clark teases, thrusting up to meet Bruce each time.
“Please, please fuck me. I’ve been so good, I want it so bad. Please, fuck me where everyone can see. I want everyone to know. I want to remember how well you fuck me for weeks.” Bruce continued his begging.
“You’ll remember, I made sure of that.” Clark responds with a slap of Bruce’s ass without any real weight, but he’s tender enough that he whimpers in genuine pain. “Don’t worry pet, you’re right. You did just what I asked, you’ve begged so pretty all night. Now I'm going to give you exactly what you need.” Clark assured him. He scoops Bruce up and carries him over to the window. Bruce is still a little unsteady on his feet when Bruce sets him down, but Clark can take care of that.
He harshly pushes Bruce, his whole body flush against the cool glass. “Who am I Bruce?” Clark asks, he grips Bruce firmly by the scruff of his neck in a way that makes his knees give out. It doesn’t matter, Clark is holding him up by his neck, pressing him firmly into the glass.
“You’re Superman.” Bruce pants. Clark is now pressing in on the plug, increasing the pressure on his prostate making it harder for Bruce to think.
“That’s right. I’m Superman and that’s Metropolis. This whole city belongs to me. You know what else belongs to me Bruce?” Clark asks. Leaving no time for Bruce to answer, Clark tugs the plug out of Bruce roughly. He tosses it across the room without a thought. Bruce just sobs, his tears and hot breath steaming up the glass in front of his face.
“I do. I belong to you, Superman. I’m your whore. You can do anything you want to me. Whenever, all the time please. I never want you to stop fucking me.” Bruce continued begging as Clark slid to his knees to bury his face in between Bruce’s cheeks. The billionaire cried out at the first direct stimulation his hole had gotten. Clark eat’s Bruce’s ass like a man drinking water in the desert. Bruce is still waiting for the one thing Clark isn’t perfect at.
Clark continued to ravish Bruce and Bruce continued to shout absolutely filthy things that had Clarks dick hard enough to burst. His patience was wearing out. He needed to know exactly what it felt like to be buried deep inside Bruce Wayne.
Clark has been imagining it for weeks. It didn’t start out on purpose, but Bruce kept bringing different Metropolis socialites up here to call them Superman while having dirty, kinky sex. It was hard for Clark to ignore. He tried to hold out, but Bruce’s cries of his name pierced through everything he did to try and distract himself. Clark had to know for himself what it was like, at least once. Although now that he’s tried it, he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to let go. It’s there, on his knees, for a keening Bruce Wayne, willing to do absolutely anything to please him, that Clark realizes he might be in over his head.
A particularly loud cry of “Superman please!” breaks Clark out of his train of thought.
“It’s alright baby. I got you. It’s time. I’m going to fuck you now.” Clark reassures him. He has to move Bruce into position so he can support his own weight. Bruce’s back muscles rippled as his arms were spread wide to brace his hands on the glass. Clark kicked Bruce's ankles to spread his legs further apart. He made a pretty picture with his ass stuck out and his back arched, all his muscles trembling with desire.
Bruce didn’t need any further prep, the plug was of considerable size, ample enough to prepare him for Clarks cock. Both men are so grateful for the forethought when Clark sinks into Bruce to the hilt with no further delay.
Clark has the ability to fly into space and look at earth from above, he knows a thing or two about religious experiences, but nothing he’s ever done has prepared him for the pure bliss of slipping into the slick hot heat of Bruce Wayne. His first thrusts are weak and stuttering as the universe reforms around him, Bruce taking place as his center of gravity.
Bruce keeps up a litany of curses and exclamations as Clark finds his rhythm. Before long he’s pounding into Bruce relentlessly. His thrusts force the hard plane of his muscles to snap against Bruce’s sore ass. “More, harder.” Bruce demands, doing his best to meet Clark’s thrusts however ineffectually.
“I don’t want to break my precious pet. If I’m not careful I could fuck you right apart.” Clark growled, Bruce unaware of the truth behind his words.
“I can take it, Clark. Harder.” Bruce bit out harshly. Clark was tempted to stop right then and punish Bruce for his insolence. Instead he fucks him harder and wraps his hand around Bruce’s neck to constrict his airflow. He can’t mouth off if he can’t breathe.
Clark monitors Bruce carefully, only allowing him to breathe when he really needs it. Whenever Bruce does have the air to force past his vocal chords he screams and cries with each precise thrust of Clarks dick against his prostate. Another perk of Kryptonian abilities under a yellow sun.
“I have to come.” Bruce gasps, his voice clear with the urgency of his impending orgasm. “I’m so close. Please Superman, let me come. Make me come.” Clark has been waiting for those words all evening to really let loose. He jack rabbits into Bruce relentlessly. Bruce moves to jerk himself off, but Clark stops him.
“You’ll come from this. You’ll come just from me. You can do it.” Clark assured him. Each of Bruce’s moans turn into a punched out sobs as Clark hammers the deepest most intimate parts of his body with no mercy.
Bruce’s wordless cries get louder and louder until he seizes up and goes silent as his orgasm wracks his body. As Bruce cums, his hole flutters delectably around Clark causing his own orgasm to come crashing over him.
As soon as Clarks consciousness expands past his dick again, he slips out of Bruce and carries him to the bed. Bruce is already asleep before his head even touches the pillow. Clark does his best to clean up without waking the other man. The part of Clark that is drowning in guilt wants to leave, to run away and avoid all this mess before it can even begin. This can’t end well with all that he has to keep secret. But Bruce doesn’t deserve that part of Clark. He doesn’t deserve to wake up sore and alone with no one to take care of him tomorrow. God knows it’s happened enough. Bruce deserves better and honestly it’s just good BDSM etiquette, Clark spends the night.