Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Clark may have gotten a bit carried away with his morning clumsiness, and as a result nearly paid the penance by almost spilling his coffee everywhere after hip checking a table. The coffee didn’t do much for Clark, or anything really, but he enjoyed the domestic part of his morning routine. 

No one around him seemed to give a care for his little show, all staring blearily at company monitors with unadjustable full brightness. After settling down at his desk, Clark opened an article he had already written, considering asking Lois to have a read over. He had already finished his assigned articles, and was excited to have some free office time to bother Lois before Perry inevitably piled another workload on him.

He leant back in his chair, peering around the privacy boards to try to find her. She wasn’t at her desk, and the mop of curls on his head poking out his booth was beginning to get judgemental looks, so he decided to look for her later.

 Just as Clark had decided which stationary he was going to stack into a tower, his phone pinged. The pre-installed notification sound, which Clark had to change it back to after Lois had changed the sound to a duck quacking. 

Clark opened his lockscreen, and upon seeing it was from Bruce, clicked on the message excitedly. The message was a photo taken by Bruce, of his own body from the collarbone down, from where he was presumably laying on their bed. He was wearing a tank top, which had slid slightly to the side at the arm-hole to reveal a tease of his pink areola, his covered nipple still visibly peaking the fabric. 

It could have very well been unintentional, there was nothing inherently lewd about the photo or angle, and the rest of Bruce’s clothes was just a pair of regular sleep shorts. 

Bruce must have just woken up, Clark concludes, as Bruce rarely rose early with Clark due to not having a 9–5 job and coming home so late from patrol. The photo, despite not overtly sexual, still made Clark a bit hot under the collar, and he quickly checked to see if anyone was looking over his privacy board. God he probably looked like such a nosy guy, constantly peeking over at other booths. 

Clark tucked the phone little closer to himself, responding with a:

You

Just woken up, have we?

There was a few moments before the message read seen and Bruce started typing.

Bruce 

Yeah, apparently my tank top put on a show for you, but you weren’t here to enjoy it.

Clark choked slightly on the coffee he was sipping, quickly setting the office mug he had poured his coffee into onto the desk. Ok, so the photo was intentionally teasing. 

Bruce’s nipples were obviously erect, so Clark suspected that Bruce had teased them before taking the photo. That mental image made Clark bite back a groan, thinking of Bruce rubbing at his own chest to get his sweet nubs hard for Clark. 

It was rare for Clark to have free time to text at work, without Perry having his hide for it, so Clark suspected this timing was due to Bruce stalking his schedule again. And Clark wouldn’t expect any less, but he made a mental note to bring it up the next time Bruce complained about Clark monitoring his heartbeat. 

You

Don’t tease me while I’m at work, I’ll get distracted.

Bruce

From stacking ballpoint pens?

Clark’s head whipped around, hand knocking over what was turning into a four pen base jenga structure. Crap. The pens trailed over his desk in various directions, and he flailed to pick them up, catching a couple that fell off the edge. 

How did Bruce know? Clark peered over the edge of his privacy board again, half expecting Bruce to be standing in the office, but this time receiving an eraser to the back of the head for his behaviour. 

“Ow!” Clark said just a little too late, but his initial shock at the attack was genuine. 

“What’s got you so nosy?” Lois chirped, coming over to retrieve her eraser. It had smiley faces scrawled over it, and her foot was tapping rapidly on the floor as she waited for him to answer. 

“Did you put too much sugar into your coffee again?” Clark questioned, frowning at Lois’ tapping foot. 

“No, I put too much coffee into my sugar. That’s why I’m jittery. Caffeine does that to a person. Anyway, what are you doing, looking around like you’re doing something you’re not supposed to?”

Clark blushed slightly as he remembered his phone on the desk. He quickly turned it off, the wrong move as it immediately peakied Lois’ interest.

“Nothing, who’s being nosy now?” Clark sniped, sliding his phone into his pocket. 

“You definitely are, what’s with the shady phone hiding? Are you texting someone on the job?”

Yes, that was what he was doing. Was doing, and now stopped so Bruce was left on read, and had been for a few minutes. Clark ignored Lois to turn his back to her and type out a quick message to Bruce, using his superspeed to type so hopefully she couldn’t even tell that he’d taken out his phone. 

You

How did you know I was stacking pens?? Are you watching me through the cameras?

There were a few moments where Bruce typed, and Clark ignored his back being poked, or rather stabbed, repeatedly with the back of a pen.

Bruce

Oh my god of course you were actually doing that.

Oh, so it had been a guess. Clark’s ears turned red, and then his collar was abruptly yanked. 

“What’s with this blushing? Oh you are definitely texting someone.” Lois leered, trying to sneak a look at his screen over his shoulder. 

“ Lois! ” Clark squeaked, hiding his phone in his blazer. “Cut it out, you’re going to get Perry to yell at us.” 

But Lois was still inspecting his ears. “I would suspect dirty texting, but you seem to be the scandalized–by–cleavage–pic type, so it could very well be a normal conversation.”

Clark had been blushing at something normal, but was glad she hadn’t seen the picture of Bruce’s body. His pecs could very well make a cleavage pic, but in the photo they were just firm mounds, curving upward in his flimsy tank top.

“Well? Out with it, blue boy.”

“MISS LANE.” Came Perry’s booming voice, and Lois weasled back to her booth in a flash, a grin on her face. She caught Clark’s eye and mouthed I’m not done talking about this before placating Perry with her newest, finished article.

Clark’s phone pinged again, another message from Bruce. He glanced over at Perry and Lois before clicking on the notification, and nearly crushed his phone in his fist from the surprise. 

The photo was taken from above Bruce, his head not in the frame, only his torso and sweated neck. Bruce had pushed up his tank top to reveal his abs and both his pecs. The hand that wasn’t taking the photo was cupping under his right pec suggestively, his back arched slightly like he did when he knew Clark was about to latch onto one of his nubs. 

Bruce’s nipples were flushed pink and erect, and Clark stared gobsmacked at the photo. It would be inappropriate to be caught looking at it. He could even get a case suspension. He should definitely put his phone away. 

Clark turned his brightness all the way down.

Bruce looked absolutely delicious in the photo, offering his chest up to be oogled, and Clark wanted nothing more in that moment than to superspeed home and have his way with Bruce. 

He heard snickering in the booth beside him, and he turned abruptly to see Lois’ shaking shoulders, the view of her face blocked by a curtain of hair. Clark realised his face and neck were burning pink. 

Rao, this was going to be a long day. 

His phone pinged again, and he looked down to see another photo of Bruce, waist down, his thick, muscled thighs spread and a hand squeezing his cock through his boxers. It looked more like Bruce was being coy, covering his crotch from Clark’s view with his hand like a shy schoolboy, and Clark was very entertained.

Maybe the day wouldn’t feel that long. 

                            ______________________________________

When Clark got home, he found Bruce asleep on their bed. The blackout curtains were drawn, installed due to Bruce’s tendency to go to sleep at sunrise, and Bruce had changed his outfit from the tank top and sleep shorts to a t-shirt and sweats. He looked so damn soft. Bruce was lying on his front,legs slightly parted, one arm under his pillow and his face smushed on its side. 

The sweats made Bruce’s thighs look like a very nice place for Clark to settle between, so that’s what he did, laying his body over Bruce’s, not putting his full weight on the other man in order to avoid squishing him. 

Clark threaded his hand with Bruce’s, the one not trapped under the pillow, admiring Bruce’s non-tapering, calloused fingers. They were a similar shape to Clark’s, but gentle veins ran visibly over the back of Bruce’s hand, and Clark smoothed his thumb over them softly. 

Bruce looked laid bare, the usually so abrasive man utterly relaxed beneath him, so Clark was a little disappointed when his actions roused Bruce from his peaceful slumber. 

“Clark?” Bruce croaked, one eye squinted shut as he craned his head to look over his shoulder.

Clark’s other hand came up to squeeze Bruce’s shoulder as he pressed his nose into Bruce’s neck. “Hey, baby,” He near whispered, feeling the need to be quiet in the dimness of the room. 

Clark moved his head to the side to nuzzle Bruce’s throat, pressing a gentle, lingering kiss there. 

“Whaydoin–” Bruce slurred, trying to turn over while beneath Clark, wanting to face him. 

Clark took some weight off Bruce to give him space to turn, and smiled down at him when he did. Bruce looked disgruntled, but to be honest Clark was ecstatic that Bruce spent his day catching up on sleep due to having barely any Brucie Wayne activities scheduled. 

“Just trying to kiss you,” Clark replied, moving down to gently press his lips against Bruce’s in a quick peck, that ended up being drawn out as Bruce pursed his lips and tilted his head. Clark broke the kiss, smile forming a smirk, “Gonna need some attention after all that texting we did.” 

Bruce’s face, which Clark could see perfectly despite the dark, turned minorly bashful, and he ducked his head. Clark slid his hand from where it was entwined with Bruce’s and gripped Bruce’s waist firmly. “You planning on making up for all that teasing?” Clark asked, leaning down so that his lips barely brushed Bruce’s. 

Bruce surged up to kiss him, both hands coming to grip Clark’s shoulders tightly. The position made Bruce’s tense biceps bulge considerably, and Clark turned his head away to press kisses across Bruce’s clothed chest and shoulders, to then press his mouth to a bicep, admiring the built muscle. 

Bruce’s shoulders were hunched making the process easy, and Clark secured an arm underneath Bruce’s back, hauling him up slightly to press him closer. Clark’s arm then slid to behind Bruce’s neck as he adjusted to press the line of his body much more firmly into Bruce’s, pressing Bruce into the mattress. 

Bruce gasped into their reignited kissing, and Clark slid his tongue against Bruce’s, causing Bruce to whimper a soft ‘hnghh’.

The sound made Clark groan, the hand on Bruce’s waist moving to push up his shirt, trying to get Bruce’s pecs exposed. Bruce seemed to know what was coming, so he loosened his arms where they were locked around Clark’s neck and head, so that Clark could kiss down his neck. 

Clark couldn’t wait to get his mouth on Bruce’s nipples, already teasing them with the hand that moved his shirt up. They felt hard and wonderful under his fingertips, warm skin near buzzing with excitement. 

Clark laved his tongue in a circle around Bruce’s areola, his mouth about to close on Bruce’s thick nipple–

knock knock knock

Bruce whined softly in frustration when Clark’s mouth never made its descent, lips brushing his nipple as his mouth shut and head moved away.

“Father?” A voice came, and Bruce immediately slapped a hand over his mouth, likely praying that his pathetic whine hadn’t been audible through the door. 

Damian politely knocked once more, “Father, I require your assistance.”

Bruce haphazardly shoved down his shirt, then moved to the door, opening it with his hips strategically positioned slightly behind it in order to hide his erection. Clark himself sat sheepishly on the bed, before moving out of the view of the doorway. He wasn’t sure Damian would be so happy that The Alien was over again, even though the child knew that he and Bruce were dating. 

“What is it?” Bruce said, a little harsher than the boy deserved, but Damian had really come at a bad time for them, Clark having to practically wrench himself away from suckling Bruce’s pec. 

“Something is wrong with Alfred,” Damian said seriously, and both Bruce and Clark forgot all annoyance in an instant.

“What? What happened?” Bruce asked, moving to stand more in the doorway, because Clark assumed that Alfred being in trouble was one of the most effective boner killers. 

“He is showing signs of discomfort, and wouldn’t eat his afternoon dry food.” Damian said, little arms crossed, chin held high. 

Bruce and Clark both looked visibly confused for a moment, before deflating. Oh, Alfred the cat. 

It turned out that Alfred (the cat) had already been checked on by Alfred (the butler) but Damian had sought Bruce’s opinion regardless. 

“Damian, Alfred is going to be much more knowledgeable about this than I am. He is the one who helps you look after them.” Bruce reasoned, now seemingly starting to gain annoyance due to realising he was denied sexual gratification for the sake of a cat. 

Clark would guess that they would both be getting no free time together if something actually went wrong with the cat, due to Damian’s radiating distress and need for Bruce’s attention, whether negative attention or positive, so he was just glad it was alright. 

“Yes, but I want you to come look,” Damian argued stubbornly, and Bruce and Damian bickered back and forth before Bruce eventually sighed in defeat and resigned to go see the cat. 

However, not before he shut the door in Damian’s face a little meanly, and walked towards Clark, wrapping his arms around Clark’s neck to kiss him deeply, humming appreciatively into Clark’s mouth when Clark slid one hand up and down Bruce’s side while the other indulgently gripped the back of Bruce’s thigh. 

Breaking the kiss, Bruce stepped back, probably not wanting to risk developing another erection. 

“I’ll be back soon,” Bruce muttered, before leaving to go see Alfred, Damian, and presumably also Alfred. 

Clark heard Damian resume chattering to Bruce outside the room, and when he used his x-ray vision to look through the wall, he saw Bruce walking next to Damian with a hand fondly between the eleven year old’s shoulder blades. 

Chapter Text

Bruce rolled his neck, wincing at the tight muscles. He had been craning his neck up to look at his monitors in the Batcave, trying to distract himself from the inherent discomfort bothering him. Since yesterday had not resulted in some good fucking like Bruce had planned, he had teased his nipples sore for nothing, no hot, wet mouth to soothe them like they needed. 

Bruce usually just left Clark to his own devices and ended up getting his nipples licked, and sometimes gnawed on because apparently Clark was a goddamn teething baby, which had been about to happen when his son had interrupted. 

Damian had knocked politely, then not so politely demanded that Bruce go diagnose a cat, who ended up being at a loss for appetite only due to a burgeoning hairball brewing in his stomach, which was later majestically hacked up onto the lawn for Alfred to clean up.

Bruce sighed, a hand coming up to absent mindedly rub at his irritated nipples, the fabric of his shirt feeling awfully abrasive. The cotton was soft, but his areola was extra sensitive, and Bruce’s annoyance had been growing over the past couple hours, and his patience growing thinner.

Eventually, Bruce retreated from the Batcave, seeking Clark’s attention. Bruce could always just use lube and a suction toy to try relieve his needy nipples, but Clark would likely be awfully upset at the prospect. 

The house was empty, (Damian and Tim should both be at school for another half hour) except Alfred, who eyed Bruce sceptically as he hurried round the manor. Clark shouldn’t be at work, it was his day off, one of his random ones that Bruce dotted within Clark’s calendar so that they could have days to spend together. 

Bruce frowned, racking his brain for where Clark may likely be. He groped one of his own round pecs lightly, wanting to get this goddamn shirt off , but he could hardly traipse around the manor with his flushed nipples out. Not with Alfred around at least. 

Eventually, Bruce resigned to just calling for him.

“Clark,” Bruce called softly, waiting for the man to appear in front of him. Which he did, about ten seconds later, disheveled and still holding the ginger, tabby cat he was presumably helping down from a tree. 

The help, however, must have been unwarranted in the cat’s opinion, because it was determinedly trying to chew on Clark’s forearm. Clark must have realised he was still holding the cat when Bruce raised an eyebrow, but he didn’t superspeed away. 

“Are you alright?” He asked, still a little frantic. Bruce gave him a judgemental stare.

“Did I sound especially panicked?” Bruce crossed his arms, then immediately regretted it because it made the material of his shirt go taut against his nipples. He winced, but thankfully Clark didn’t notice.

“Uh…no, not really.” Clark looked a bit sheepish, now seemingly realising that he was still holding a small, chunky cat, who let out a distressed yowl. “Uhm..I guess I’ll just–”

“You can put the cat back now, Clark” Bruce deadpanned, and Clark nodded quickly before speeding away, back in a flash with his arms devoid of cat.

Bruce stepped into Clark’s arms, and sighed when Clark’s hand cupped the back of his neck, pulling him into a hug. Bruce wrapped his arms around Clark’s neck, pressing his torso flush against Clark’s, burying his face in Clark’s neck. However, this made Bruce hiss in discomfort, hunching to get his sore nipples away from Clark’s muscular chest. 

“What?” Clark asked, visibly concerned, but then his eyes latched onto Bruce’s nipples where they poked at the fabric of his grey t-shirt. His eyes became slightly hooded, as he moved to boldly cup both pecs, Clark’s large, warm hands groping him making Bruce’s breath hitch. Bruce let out a soft 'nghh' sound, surprised at both his pecs being cupped, and pushed upwards lewdly.

“What’s this about?” Clark murmured, moving a finger to rub curiously at one of the nubs, making Bruce wince again. 

“Don’t do that,” Bruce snapped, pushing Clark’s hand away, but Clark persisted, pushing up Bruce’s shirt to reveal his flushed nubs. 

“Oh, look at you,” Clark purred, a finger, much more gently this time, circling one of Bruce’s slightly puffy nipples. Bruce shivered, glad to have Clark’s attention on his chest. 

“What got them like this?” Clark pulled Bruce’s shirt over his head, Bruce lifting his arms reluctantly to comply. “You been playing with them?”

“ No,” Bruce said defensively, and it was partially true. He had been playing with them yesterday , sure, but the reason they were so irritated was from rubbing against his damn kevlar all night after helping Damian, then rubbing against that stupid t–shirt. 

“No?” Clark drawled, letting a finger drag down from Bruce’s collarbone to his abs, trailing over Bruce’s erect nipple. Bruce blushed, turning his head away, unable to keep his head held high when Clark was staring at him like he wanted to eat him. Bruce felt laid bare with his torso exposed and being caressed by Clark’s perverted fingers, and he clutched Clark’s shoulders tighter.

“Well, they sure look sore, so I guess I’ll leave them alone,” Clark said, and he almost sounded sincere. Almost. Bruce knew that Clark wanted him to ask for it, and Bruce seethed, a humiliated blush spreading down his neck. 

Clark spared him any more scrutiny, pulling him close to kiss his neck, guiding Bruce to hug him while Clark kept a hand firmly between them, still on Bruce’s pec, Bruce’s nipple trapped between two of his fingers. 

“Well?” Clark prompted, and Bruce just whined softly, shoving his face angrily into Clark’s shoulder. The fucker was being such a tease. It was one thing to make Bruce ask for sex, or one of Clark’s favourites, for his ass to be eaten, but Bruce just melted with shame at having to beg for his nipples to be suckled. 

But Bruce needed that warm, broad tongue on his poor nubs, those teeth sinking into the meat of his pec. Clark, apparently getting impatient, began gently tugging Bruce’s trapped nipple gently with the fingers either side of it, mouthing at Bruce’s neck. 

Bruce gasped, needing to twist away from the sensation, the skin too sensitive for such treatment, but Clark held fast, placing his other hand between Bruce’s shoulder blades, making him stay pressed to Clark.

“Go on,” Clark urged softly, asking in a more sultry voice, “Just ask me, baby. I’ll do whatever you want.”

Bruce pressed his face into Clark’s neck, mumbling something indistinguishable. 

“What was that?” Clark smirked, biting Bruce’s ear gently.

“...can you put your mouth on them?” It was barely a whisper, but it had Clark flying them to their bedroom in an instant.

Bruce was disorientated at first, clinging onto Clark’s shoulders to stay standing, but there was no need as Clark quickly moved them onto the bed, Bruce sprawled out on his back, boxed in by Clark’s own body on top of him.

Clark’s eyes roved over Bruce’s body hungrily, and he wasted no time latching onto one of Bruce’s thick nipples. Fuck. 

Bruce cried out, a hand shooting to the back of Clark’s head to keep him there, urging him to suck harder, practically mashing Clark’s face into his pec. Clark seemed blissful, suckling eagerly at the nipple, running his tongue back and forth over it. 

That brought relief to Bruce’s irritated nub, the suction heavenly. Bruce began to squirm after a few seconds, the intense suckling making his cock harden rapidly.

Popping off, Clark began sucking a dark mark just below his nipple, sinking his teeth into the meaty flesh. Bruce gasped, arching his chest into the sensation. Clark was treating his sore nipples so tenderly, but the rest of his chest so harshly, and it made Bruce whimper embarrassingly. 

“God, they’re all flushed, baby,” Clark said between kisses, moving to Bruce’s neglected nipple, licking over it firmly, “Really needed this, huh?”

Bruce whimpered and turned his face away, cheeks burning, and Clark bit his nipple gently, sucking it between his teeth. That provoked a moan, Bruce turning his head to look down at Clark. God it was a sight. 

Clark looked lewd, his cheeks hollowed, suckling eagerly at Bruce’s chest, hickeys littered around where he was latched on. Bruce’s nipples glistened with spit, his full, muscular chest heaving. 

The sensation of Clark’s hot mouth and tongue had soothed Bruce’s nipples, making them no longer irritated but instead pulsing with that wonderful ache he got when Clark nursed from them like a damn baby. Clark was still sucking happily, alternating between nipples, breaking off with a thin spit string connecting Bruce’s nipple and his lips.

“Oh my god,” Bruce whined, wiping his chest with his discarded t-shirt. 

“Hey,” Clark cut in, apparently annoyed that he was being denied Bruce’s chest by a mid-necking clean, and he plucked the t-shirt from Bruce’s hands. 

Bruce’s nipple was again immediately engulfed in wet heat, Clark’s hunger becoming sated as he got to keep nursing. 

This bliss broke however, as Bruce heard yelling voices get closer and closer to their bedroom. He put a hand to the back of Clark’s head, but Clark didn’t budge.

“Clark wait–”

The door slammed open, revealing Tim, red faced and screeching, and Damian following, katana drawn. Tim also had what looked like powdered sugar all around his mouth, Damian too but less messily.

“BRUCE TELL DAMIAN HE NEEDS TO DO WHAT I SAY–”

“YOU CHEATED–” 

Clark, who apparently despite having super–hearing, did not hear the little brats approach, and awkwardly wrenched himself away from Bruce’s overstimulated nipple. 

The kids, oblivious to their elder’s situation, kept bickering, and Bruce took the few moments the kids spent pointing fingers at each other to position himself behind Clark, hiding his obviously red nipples. 

Aggravated and flustered, Bruce was glad that they had only gotten so far to undress Bruce’s shirt. 

“What are you doing? Did no one ever teach you to knock?” Bruce scolded, seething. 

Both kids seemed to frankly give no care for their intrusion, now focused on the fact that Bruce was paying attention to them, and proceeded to yell their misfortune. 

“Damian won’t hold up his end of the deal–”

“I only made the deal because you WOULD NOT STOP BOTHERING ME–”

“That doesn’t matter, you said–”

Bruce let his head fall onto Clark’s shoulder, waiting the boys to finish battling for explaining privileges. 

Neither backed down, but Tim was now turning blue in the face from yelling, and oh my god Damian has his katana–

“Damian, put the sword down. Now.” Bruce ordered, and Damian turned to him, realising that he was being told off. 

“But it’s not fair! Tim–”

“Sword, Damian. Put it down. Then I’ll listen.” 

Tim ceased his yelling, thank god, and Damian reluctantly dropped his weapon, with as much indignance as one could muster in such a short movement. 

Bruce sighed, a hand moving to rub his temple. “Ok, and please one at a time, what happened?”

Both boys opened their mouths, so Bruce immediately shushed them again. “No, okay this is what we will do, Damian, you go first, then Tim.” 

Tim looked utterly betrayed, while Damian triumphantly stepped forward. “Tim coerced me into a deal where whomever consumed the most custard donuts in one minute would be able to order the other to do something–”

“And he lost– ”

“ –but I was completely uncooperative and did not want to partake, and only did so because I needed him to leave me alone–”

“But he did it anyway –”

“Tim, stop interrupting your brother,” Bruce scolded tiredly, now leaning against Clark’s body heavily. Clark himself was sitting complacently, visibly entertained by this debacle, and Bruce considered pinching him hard with the hand hidden behind Clark’s back. There would be no point though, Clark wouldn’t even register the pain. 

“So what I’m getting from this is, Tim annoyed Damian enough that he accepted the challenge of who can eat the most donuts, Damian lost, and now is refusing to pay the price because he is bringing up how the entire thing was unconsensual?” Bruce summarised, glancing between both baby bats. 

That received firm nods in agreement, both apparently thinking their opinion was supported by Bruce. Bruce honestly didn’t know how to go about this without taking sides. 

Before he could come up with a peacemaker, Clark piped up. 

“What is Tim even trying to make you do, Damian?” 

Bruce was going to strangle Clark. 

“He was going to try to make me be his nerf gun target!” Damian burst out, glaring at Tim. “You could easily use inanimate objects, this entire thing is solely for my discomfort–”

“A DEAL IS A DEAL–” 

“Ok enough,” Bruce tried not to raise his voice, but both boys fell silent again. So much for gentle parenting. “Tim, apologise to Damian for bothering him, and Damian, you need to come to me next time rather than accepting competitions then complaining when you lose.”

“But what about my prize–”

“Tim, find another non-violent activity to make Damian do, and it cannot take up more than ten minutes of his time,” Bruce thought for a moment “Scratch that, five minutes.” Bruce knew that his kids could come up with some pretty devious punishments, violent or not, and wanted Damian in sound mind.

“ Bruce, ” "Father," Both boys complained, but neither were yelling anymore, so Bruce counted the win. 

“Go,” He said with finality, and both boys left, grumbling unhappily. 

Clark turned his head, nosing at Bruce’s jaw from where he was slumped over Clark’s shoulders. “You handled that well,” He praised and Bruce scoffed. 

“DRAKE!” a screech resonated throughout the hallway, and Bruce groaned. For God's sake. 

Bruce heaved himself off of Clark, and pulled on his shirt. 

“Gotta make sure they don’t bite each other’s heads off, huh?” Clark said with a grin, which Bruce did not return. 

Bruce stooped to kiss Clark briefly, before exiting the bedroom to go pry apart his yelling batkids. 

Chapter Text

The gala was bustling with people, all in tailored suits and shimmering dresses, and Clark had been mostly entertaining himself by seeking out Bruce in the crowd. His boyfriend had arrived dressed in a perfectly cut three piece suit, the trousers making Bruce’s thighs look extremely biteable, and Clark had been found guilty of staring many times in the last hour.

The material stretched taut across his muscles, showing the slight, mouth-watering give of Bruce’s inner thigh flesh as it rubbed together. Clark had to restrain himself from blushing bright red, tugging at his collar often throughout the evening as he thought about rubbing his hands up those thighs– 

A nudge to his arm brought him out of his thoughts, and Clark turned his head to see Dick sidled up next to him, looking more genuinely cheery than any of the other plastic smiles here. 

“Having fun?” Dick chirped, and Clark sighed softly. 

“Not so much, more trying to cope with all these conversations.” Clark replied, and noticed Dick tick an eyebrow. 

“Trouble fending off the ladies? Should have known that height of yours would attract attention, or oppositely that awful tailoring.” 

Clark fumbled with the glass he was holding, not expecting that. “Oh, that’s not what I meant,” Clark hurried to remedy, “I mean all these conversations around me, y’know, superhearing and all that.”

Dick grinned, bumping his shoulder with Clarks, or as best as he could being a fair few inches shorter. “Overwhelming, huh?” 

“Something like that,” Clark said, sounding somewhat wistful. It was mainly irritating because it made it harder to locate Bruce’s voice or heartbeat, and Clark didn’t have much else to do. 

Dick hummed. It was a miracle that they had managed to get all the batkids to attend the gala, moreso Jason and Dick. Dick because he was so busy at Bludhaven most days and nights, and Jason because…well he’s not been exactly punctual in his presence within the Wayne Family recently. Even though he was currently nowhere Clark could see, but this gala hall was crowded and massive, so he was probably just mingling in the corner.

“This event sucks.” 

Clark startled, Dick didn’t, as Tim appeared on the other side of his brother, looking like he would rather be anywhere else. 

“Not like everyone’s been dying to hassle you for your attention,” Dick sniped, and Tim flicked his ear. Clark snorted. 

Damian was looking professional, as Clark spotted him talking politely to a redheaded woman, who Clark realised was Commissioner Gordon’s daughter. Damian’s hair was slicked back, looking all sharp edges and ready to navigate this evening, but Clark knew that the boy didn’t like these galas any more than his brothers. Except maybe Jason.

Bruce tended to handle these events better than any of them, traipsing through the hall with a charismatic air, all flailing hands and perfectly timed laughs. Clark spotted Bruce sitting on one of the lush couches, leaning rather heavily against a blonde man with a stern brow, a bit too heavily in Clark’s opinion.

If Bruce was flirting to get what he wanted, it seemed to be working, as the other man seemed to loosen up a bit, sipping his drink and conversing with Bruce. Clark frowned. Bruce’s hand trailed down Blond Man’s tie, and Clark’s fragile champagne glass handle snapped in his hand. 

Thankfully the glass was empty, and Clark’s ears burned as he heard snickering from beside him. 

“Not a fan of good ol’ negotiation tactics, are you?” Tim leered, and yelped as Dick elbowed him subtly but effectively in the ribs. 

“Just make sure you don’t go red eyed on us,” Dick said, gleefully observing his brother rub his side. 

“Of course,” Clark sighed, for about the hundredth time that evening, and leant on the bar behind him. “I won’t interfere, it’s all an act after all, right?” 

Clark turned to the boys, but they were engrossed in bickering. Dick’s hair was mussed, and he was now sticking a finger in his mouth, before giving it a trajectory to Tim’s ear canal, and Tim hissing for him to stop.

Clark turned back to the crowd. Right, he wouldn’t interfere. He had all his quotes for the night, and was now only required to mingle aimlessly while watching Bruce– sling a leg over one of Blond Man’s own–

“I’m going over,” Clark muttered, and the two batkids remained blissfully unaware that their temporary babysitter was departing. Not that Clark could stop them from doing anything anyway. Or even necessarily try, because he needed to maintain his status as favourite sort–of–parent somehow.

Bruce showed no surprise as Clark approached, greeting him animatedly. 

“Mr Kent!” Bruce flashed a blinding smile, patting the cushioned seat next to him. If Clark wasn’t so cautious, he would plonk down next to Bruce, and pull both his legs into his lap, possessively gripping the milky flesh he knew was underneath those tailored trousers.

 He would slide his hands up Bruce’s thighs, make Bruce whimper and hide his face in Clark’s neck as Clark massaged his bulge, making him soak his boxers with his leaking cock while everybody watched–

Clark steeled himself, extending a hand for a shake. The movement forced Bruce to get up from where he was cozied against Blond Man, in order to shake Clark’s hand. Clark not so subtly pulled Bruce away, making them disappear between the clusters of people chattering to each other. 

Bruce had an arrogant smirk on his face, one that Clark would ensure was wiped off and replaced with a mewling slack jaw later, and Clark pulled him close to whisper in his ear.

“What are you doing?” 

Bruce chuckled, smoothing a hand up Clark’s oversized lapel. “I was just sitting with a new friend,” He purred, and Clark’s eyes flashed red. 

“Sitting with him? Or on him?” Clark hissed, forcing himself to loosen his grip on Bruce’s shoulder before it seemed threatening. Which it kind of had been, but Clark digresses. 

“Well, I suppose that depends on how you view a friendly leg rest.”

In that moment, Clark was sure he would fly them home without giving a damn about who saw and ravage Bruce into the mattress until he begged and cried to not orgasm another time. He was sure that Bruce had been putting on a show for him. To make him jealous.

“This is fun for you, isn’t it?” Clark grumbled, and Brucie Wayne pouted slightly, sliding closer to Clark. 

He leaned forward, so that his lips barely brushed Clark’s ear, “Well, you occupy yourself by watching my ass move in this suit, and I remedy my boredom by trying to make you come get it yourself,” Bruce smirked, and Clark’s breath hitched. 

They moved to another room aside from the main hall, but still crowded, just with less cameras and more exits to empty spare rooms. 

Clark stooped slightly to whisper in Bruce’s ear, spilling all the filth he had been imagining he was going to do to Bruce later, making the other man squirm visibly. 

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Clark said in a husky voice, sliding a hand up the back of Bruce’s thigh. They had by now stumbled into an empty hallway, and Clark wasted no time pushing Bruce against the wall. 

“Jesus Clark, at least get us a room first–”

“Don’t you want me to touch you?” Clark hummed, slipping a finger between the lewd crease of Bruce’s trousers, right in the cleft of his ass, and rubbed a finger suggestively over Bruce’s hole. “Touch you here,” It must have been a phantom touch through the material, but Bruce shivered, obediently lifting a leg for Clark to grip the back of his knee.

“And here,” Clark slid his hand up to Bruce’s crotch,  squeezing the bulge. Bruce gasped, whimpering softly, and Clark pressed a kiss to his forehead, squeezing harder. 

Clark’s other hand slid up along his thick, muscled thigh, squeezing the meaty flesh, and took a moment to appreciate the flushed, burly man he had pinned. 

Bruce was nearly Clark’s height, and nearly as broad, with round shoulders and generous pecs, making his dress shirt strain valiantly. Bruce’s waist was thick yet trim, his legs long and muscled; the man was nowhere near lean. 

It gave Clark a sick satisfaction to make the masculine Bruce Wayne whimper when his thighs were bitten, or when his full pecs were sucked and nipples licked. Or when he was forced on his front, made to take an hour of rimming, having his tender hole sucked and nipped, stretched on a long, broad tongue as Clark buried his face in Bruce’s ass. 

Clark lifted Bruce’s thigh, so that he could shove his own between them, grinding against Bruce. Bruce gasped, and clutched Clark’s shoulders, and Clark leaned forward to suck at his throat, pressing his mouth to the bolt of Bruce’s jaw. 

Bruce was soon weak kneed, his thighs quivering sweetly in Clark’s grasp, and Clark drew back to admire his aroused state. 

Bruce’s cock was tenting his slacks, a wet spot forming at the tip, which Clark desperately wanted to latch his mouth onto just to hear Bruce mewl. 

His nipples were poking against his shirt, hard from little to no attention, and that made Clark groan, his hand coming back to cup himself to stave off orgasm. 

Clark did allow himself to move that hand to caress Bruce’s pulsing cock through his trousers, smiling predatorily. “Oh look at you, about to burst the seams on this suit, huh?” Clark cooed, letting his thumb press into the wet spot, where Bruce’s hot, spongey cockhead was throbbing. 

“ C-Clark,” Bruce whimpered, his hips bucking uncontrollably up into Clark’s hand, and closing his eyes in humiliation when Clark just fondly petted his weeping cock through the material.

Clark ducked his head, sucking softly at one of Bruce’s nipples through his shirt, the white fabric bleeding transparent, and then moved back to circle the wet mark with his finger. Bruce whined, and Clark rubbed his clothed nub, moving to lick the other peak, shoving his thigh more firmly between Bruce’s legs to make sure he stayed upright. 

“We–unghh–should probably move to an actual room,” Bruce croaked, and Clark released his nipple, pressing his lips against the thick, erect nub while looking up at Bruce. Clark rested his cheek on Bruce’s cushy pec, and Bruce groaned, letting his head fall back against the wall and covering his eyes with a hand in embarrassment. 

“Can’t just fuck me out here, can you?” Bruce complained, and yes, yes Clark could. Hell, he’d been considering engaging in some heavy petting with Bruce when they were in the main hall by the couch. 

“Well,” Clark drawled, sliding the hand on Bruce’s lifted leg down to let his middle finger breach the cleft of Bruce’s ass, squeezing the flesh of his ass cheek firmly and earning a moan. 

“Ok, you could, but let’s just get a room anyway,” Bruce pleaded, and Clark leaned forward to kiss his forehead, before complying, speeding them to the nearest door, and fumbling to get it open. 

However upon stumbling into the room, to both their horror, it was already occupied. This would actually be fine in normal circumstances, Brucie Wayne was to be seen all the time leaving events with attractive people, but this was not the case. 

In the room was Jason, and his redheaded friend, (Roy? Was that his name?) and Clark felt very awkward. They were standing very close, Jason’s hand threateningly fisting Roy’s collar, and his posture tense but facial expression surprised when Clark and Bruce entered. 

Their noses were nearly touching, and before Jason noticed that they were there, Jason’s expression had looked a lot like…pleading? Roy had one hand gripping Jason’s forearm, of the hand grabbing him, and his other was hovering over Jason’s waist. 

Or had been, because this position only lasted a split second before Jason flailed back, expression turning seething. 

“What the fuck?” Jason looked at them, and Clark and Bruce fumbled to hide their predicament, Bruce making the easier decision to stand behind Clark, while Clark had to resort to more obviously covering his tented slacks with his splayed hands. 

“Oh my god, what the fuck,” Jason repeated, while Roy’s eyes darted between them, and the redhead raised an eyebrow. 

The pairs both stared at each other for a moment, Jason looking the most horrified of all. Fair, considering that he was seeing his father disheveled and aroused, which had to be very uncomfortable for Jason.

“Uh, sorry for the intrusion,” Clark began, and heard Bruce snort behind him. Well wasn’t he being a great help. Bruce was a lot more shameless than Clark, and to be honest, Bruce’s batkids had probably seen their father in worse situations pasted all over tabloids, so that may be why Bruce was being so unapologetic.

Roy showed less interest in Clark and Bruce, glancing at Jason like he was wondering if he was allowed to run away yet. Jason had seemed very angry at Roy when they entered, so Clark would expect to see some relief on Roy’s face, but Roy just looked sheepish.

“So are you guys–” Roy was silenced as Jason grabbed his wrist, harshly yanking him towards the door. 

“Shut up, let’s just go. I don’t even want to know.” 

Clark eyed them as they left, too preoccupied staring at the pink hue of Jason’s cheeks to notice the strange look Bruce sent Jason’s way. The door slammed shut behind the fleeing batkid and his hostage, and Clark let out a breath of relief. 

“Rao, that was awful.” 

“Because my son saw us covered in sweat and hickeys or because now we have to return to the main hall for the auction?”

“What?”

Would they have even had time for a quickie anyway? Knowing Bruce, he probably wouldn’t care if they didn’t. But now it was a perfect excuse to escape the remnants of what had become very awkward situation, so they took the opportunity. 

Fixing their clothes was easier for Clark than Bruce. All Clark needed to do was straighten his jacket and smooth down his usually messy curls, while Bruce had hickeys on his neck, wet marks on his shirt around his nipples, and a slight damp spot on the front of his slacks. 

Bruce grinned, “What, don’t think I can pull this off?”

“I’d rather you didn’t,” Clark cringed at the thought of Bruce sauntering out into the main hall looking like that.

Bruce buttoned up his blazer, hiding the wet marks, and tugged it down to cover his crotch. The hickeys weren’t going anywhere, so Bruce just tugged his collar a bit higher to cover the lower ones and would probably wear the one at his jaw like a prize. 

Bruce still looked like he’d been making out heavily with someone, but it was the best he would get.

Clark reached out a hand to rub a thumb over the hickey, making Bruce smirk. 

“You happy everyone is gonna see?” Bruce teased, and Clark flushed, taking back his hand.

“ No, of course not. It’s very unprofessional.”

“Yeah, yeah, a moment ago you were stroking it with a giddy smile on your face.” Bruce turned on his heel, heading to the hallway, and Clark followed hastily.

Chapter Text

“Tim–ack–Tim stop trying to hit your brother.”

Tim was still valiantly taking swings at Damian, flailing all over the place from where Clark held him upside down. Clark stretched his arms as far apart as possible, trying to get Damian out of range from Tim’s fists.

Damian was hanging straight like a caught fish, arms crossed, petulant and seemingly unbothered by the swinging fists reaching a few inches from his face. 

Clark sighed, lost on how to lower the boys without letting them re-ignite in fresh battle. He had discovered them squabbling on the rug near the TV, Damian had the higher ground riding on Tim’s back, and was trying to put Tim in a headlock, while Tim blindly smacked at him to get him off. 

“Tim, stop, please, I'm sure that your father would be very unhappy if you both ended up with bruised faces.” Clark helplessly chastised, but his gentle parenting was apparently less effective than Bruce’s ‘gentle parenting’, because Damian just stuck his tongue out at Tim, provoking an enraged screech and kicking feet. 

Clark deigned to put the boys down, because he was worried that in a reflex to grab Tim’s kicking leg that he would hurt him with his strength. Putting Damian down first, Clark pleaded with him to stay put, then he lowered Tim, immediately locking an arm around his shoulders, so that the boy wouldn’t lunge for his brother. 

“Right, now I think you should just both apologi–” 

Clark apparently hadn’t taken into account Tim’s sweeping high kicks, because a foot collided with Damian’s shoulder, narrowly missing his chin. 

“Ow! You fucking–”

Clark immediately dropped Tim, rushing to Damian. He cradled Damian's face in his hands, checking for injury, then let his hands move to a safer place on Damian's shoulders, with less risk of being bitten. 

“Is your shoulder okay?” Clark asked and Damian just squirmed under his hold, infuriated. 

“He hit me! I demand to settle the score and hit him back–”

“Damian no– ” 

“Otherwise it is utterly unfair–”

“YOU HAD ME IN A HEADLOCK–”

Tim joined in from where he was cowering subtly behind Clark. Clark knew that Tim probably felt a bit bad for socking his little brother in the shoulder. 

“Damian,” Clark got the little boy, the very dangerous and angry little boy, to focus on him. “It isn’t okay that Tim hit you, nor is it okay that you had him in a headlock, can’t you please just both do a truce? Like you both apologise?”

Tim snickered behind him, and Clark turned to face him, trying to school his expression into something stern. Tim actually faltered a bit at that, probably because Clark was always smiling when it came to the batkids, and he ducked his head, avoiding Clark's gaze.

“Whayawant me t’do” Tim grumbled, clearly unhappy but cooperating nonetheless. 

“Nothing, yet, we will go in order. Damian, ” Clark declared, turning to face the younger bat. “Please could you apologise to Tim for putting him in a headlock?”

Damian was in visible disbelief, slowly transforming into rage. “But–he–why–”

Clark waited patiently, and smiled when Damian averted his eyes and muttered, with much malice, “ Sorry. ”

Delighted, Clark turned to Tim.

“M’sorry I guess,” Tim said reluctantly. 

Damian sniffed, chin now held high, and turned on his heels, leaving the room. 

Clark clapped his hands together, grinning. “Well! That settles that then.”

Tim raised an eyebrow at Clark, snorting in amusement before ambling off, swinging his arms childishly. 

Clark wandered off to find Bruce, listening out for his heartbeat. The soft thumping was resonating from the Batcave, so Clark flew down, seeking his boyfriend. Bruce was working out, and Clark stopped in his tracks, breath hitching.

Bruce was doing weighted pull ups, a thick chain wrapped around his waist, connected to metal weights. His skin glistened with sweat, beads of it quivering on straining muscles, as Bruce carefully lowered himself up and down from the bar. Sweat pooled at the base of his back, just above his ass, which was tight from crossing his legs. 

Bruce was wearing only a pair of sweatpants, which clung to the contours of his ass and thighs wonderfully. Rao, Clark wanted to drop to his knees and eat Bruce out then and there, having him tremble with effort to keep himself elevated before inevitably impaling himself on Clark’s tongue, held up by nothing but Clark’s hands and face, and his own desperately clutching the bar.

Clark would lick into him like a starving man, burying his face in Bruce’s ass, making him whine and cry, beg for a touch on his weeping cock–

Clark came up behind Bruce, gripping his thick waist with large hands. 

“Jesus Clark!” Bruce gasped, obviously caught off guard. 

Clark mouthed at the back of his neck, murmuring in his ear, “Shouldn’t have let me sneak up on you then,”

Bruce squirmed, and Clark let a hand run along the chains pressed to Bruce’s waist, before snapping them with his fist. Bruce groaned, but before Clark let him drop down, he shoved a thigh between Bruce’s legs, meaning Bruce had to keep himself mid pull up or essentially sit on Clark’s knee. 

Bruce whimpered breathily as Clark squeezed his waist, grinding his own erection against Bruce’s ass. 

“Come on, sit down for me,” Clark purred, and moved a hand to rub it up Bruce’s inner thigh, groping closer to his crotch. 

“What–nghh-are you–” Bruce choked out a moan as Clark pulled him down, making Bruce sit on his knee, putting pressure on the swollen bulge in Bruce’s sweats.

“ Fuck, ” Bruce whined, and leant back against Clark’s chest, unintentionally pushing his pretty chest out. 

Clark hummed, sucking hickies along Bruce’s neck, as a hand moved to smooth up Bruce’s tense, sweat slick abs, the other hand pinning Bruce on his knee by his waist.

The hand slid up to cup Bruce’s pec, massaging the plush flesh greedily. Clark moved a finger to rub firmly over the hard nipple, ensuring that it was pink and flushed. 

“Clark please, ” Bruce mewled, and Clark just ground his thigh up harder into Bruce’s arousal, making Bruce moan. 

“Please what, baby?” Clark teased, moving his own fingers to his mouth, licking the tips wet with saliva before returning them to Bruce’s nipple, rubbing concentratedly. 

Bruce cried out, as his tender areola was fondled, pinched and rubbed, and he could barely put his feet on the ground, meaning his cock was humped mercilessly against the rock hard muscles of Clark’s thigh. 

“You know what I was thinking?” Clark cooed, moving both hands now to cup Bruce’s pecs, groping the mounds. “I was thinking that you could be good for me and keep your hands on the bar, while I eat out this tight ass of yours.”

Bruce whimpered at that, and Clark smirked, moving a hand to squeeze Bruce’s bulging erection, massaging it through his sweats. Clark slipped his hand under the waistband, feeling how much precome Bruce had leaked, and smirked. 

“Oh? This weeping little thing agrees with me, I think,” Clark licked the shell of Bruce’s ear, and Bruce panted, nodding fervently. 

“I could eat you out until you’re crying prettily for me, humping the air while loving the tongue in your ass,” Clark murmured, grinding more harshly against Bruce’s ass. “Until your sweet little hole is twitching like crazy like how it does after a good rimming, melting under my tongue so damn sweet .”

Bruce cried out, a visible patch of pre-release soaking through his sweats, and Clark smirked, hand moving in a sloppy handjob, barely cupping Bruce’s cock, mainly trailing his fingertips back and forth across the length, petting it softly, swiping through the precome.

The length of Bruce’s cock was hard and pulsing, and Clark considered for a moment that maybe he should give Bruce a blowjob, suck on the needy length until it spills down his throat. 

“Or do you want me to suck you off, sweetheart? Wring you dry with my mouth, let you fuck your desperate cock into a nice warm heat,” Clark kissed his way up the side of Bruce’s throat, as Bruce’s head lolled back onto his shoulder, panting. 

“Nghh, Just give me something , Clark I don– ahh –don’t care,” Bruce whined, looking up at him with pleading eyes. Clark turned to kiss Bruce deeply, swallowing all the whimpers Bruce let out as he continued fondling his length.

Clark was about to drop to his knees, when his super-hearing picked up someone stampeding towards the batcave. There is no way Alfred would be moving at that pace. 

“Batkid,” Clark realised in horror, and Bruce blinked up at him, confused.

“Wha...?”

Clark immediately sped away, back in a flash with spare clothes for Bruce. He’d hastily wiped off his hand, which had been sticky with precome, and now held out the clothes.

“Put these on, now.” 

Bruce looked at him like he’d lost his mind, leaning heavily against the beam of the pull up bar. 

“ Put them on. ”

“What is wrong with you?” 

Just then, a yell resonated off the walls of the Batcave. 

“BRUUUUCCEEEE”

Bruce’s eyes widened in understanding, and painstakingly peeled himself out of his ruined sweatpants, checking them behind the weights rack and tugging on underwear and jeans over his erection. Jeans would probably be one of the most uncomfortable legwear to try to put on with an erection, but they would do best at hiding it. 

Dick’s yells got closer, and Bruce just about managed on tugging on the jeans, unable to hide his swollen nipples before Dick burst into the room. 

“WALLYGOTSTUCKINASPEEDYSUIT–”

Clark shushed him, making him catch his breath. Bruce had sidled behind him, trying to hide his state. Bruce wasn’t trying to put on a shirt, and Clark agreed. The movement of dressing himself would likely draw Dick’s attention to the situation he’d interrupted. “Wally what?”

Dick heaved a couple of breaths, clearly disorientated. 

All flailing hands, he explained “Cyborg engineered Wally this new like industrialised speedy suit and it’s all metal and moving parts but now Wally’s stuck in it and–”

Dick abruptly paused. 

Both men stood awkwardly.

Dick must have taken in the obvious lingering bulges in both their pants, less so in Clarks, and their flushed faces as his eyebrows shot up. He also must have registered the hickeys all over Bruce’s neck and his reddened nipples. Which still had saliva glistening on them.

Oh Rao. 

Dick slapped a hand over his eyes and sprinted out of the cave, cackling to himself. 

“USE PROTECTION!”

“DICK!” Bruce bellowed angrily, watching as the little brat deftly legged it out of the Batcave.

Bruce dragged a hand down his face, groaning in annoyance. 

“That little shit knows nothing of privacy. You’d think he’d be more mature than his brothers but no–”

Clark kissed Bruce, cutting him off, and Bruce grumbled angrily, kissing back for a moment before pushing Clark away. 

“What are yo–”

“We were engaged in some very heavy petting mere minutes ago, Bruce, I’m a tad aroused.”

Bruce flushed weakly, allowing Clark to make out with him quite filthily for a couple more minutes, tongues sliding lewdly against each other. 

“No, Clark,” Bruce breathed after a moment, breaking the kiss. “Wally’s in a situation where he could get hurt, I need to go–”

“ Bruce nooo,” Clark whined.

“And get out of these damn jeans, and have a cold shower so I can go help him.”

Clark brightened at the mention of a shower, grinning hopefully at Bruce.

“Can I–”

“No.”

“ –join you?”

Clark complained loudly, trapping Bruce in a hug, slumping over Bruce’s shoulders dejectedly. 

“Please.”

“No.”

Clark turned his head kissing along Bruce’s neck and up to his ear. 

“Clark, what are you–”

“I would make it good for you,” Clark rumbled into his ear, and Bruce let out a choked noise. “I’d open you up with my tongue nice and slow, then finger you, make you come on just my fingers–”

Bruce seemed to consider it for a moment, and Clark kept murmuring filth into his ear. He would definitely eat Bruce out, he hadn’t done that in a hot minute. He would do it until Bruce’s knees shook, and he was grinding back onto Clark’s tongue, and Clark would only give his hole a break to suck hickeys into Bruce’s ass cheeks, nipping and licking at it the rest of the time. 

Then maybe he’d suck Bruce off, get those thick thighs wrapped around his head–

“No, Clark.”

Clark whined pettily, contrasting the dominant tone he’d just been demonstrating, and pawed at Bruce’s ass from where his arms were wrapped around Bruce’s waist. 

Bruce shooed him away like he was a puppy, reassuring Clark that they would get around to having good sex later, leaving Clark staring dumbfounded. 

“Uh,” Clark glanced aimlessly around the room, Bruce went to shower, and decided to go take care of his own erection. 

Clark lay on their bed, pumping his engorged cock, filling his mind with images of Bruce’s fluttering hole, imagining eating Bruce out hungrily, making him mewl and beg, that round, firm ass clenching around his face as he dug his tongue to rub at Bruce’s needy prostate–

When Clark came, he stared at the ceiling, wondering if Wally was (hopefully) still stuck in that suit, just as lonely and miserable as he was.

Chapter Text

Bruce is going to lose his mind. He and Clark hadn’t been able to spend any sort of quality time together for most of the week, the precious evening hours between Clark’s shift ending and Bruce going on patrol had been taken up by distractions and emergencies. Damian and Tim had been at each other's necks all week, the gala had not so much been Jason’s fault because to be honest he was in the room first, but Dick may as well have timed his interruption deliberately just to strip Bruce of the pleasure of getting his ass eaten. 

Actually no, Bruce hoped this son had no idea or concept of what Bruce and Clark engaged in during sex. 

The worst part is how fucking filthy Clark talks into his ear during foreplay, riling him up and humiliating him sweetly to the point of begging, so that if they’re interrupted then Bruce is just left a mess. It did provide prime masturbation material in his spank bank, which Bruce couldn’t complain about, but it also made him desperate for the real touch, and when he didn’t get it, that just motivated him to be really pissy. 

Bruce’s cock twitched in his trousers at the promises Clark had growled into his ear, and his knees felt weak at the thought of Clark on his knees behind him, licking him open with that broad tongue of his, while making him keep his hands on the pull up bar. 

“Fuck,” Bruce exited the batcave, making a beeline for his bedroom. He was just a bit smug that he knew Clark would hear him, would be sitting in his office blushing angrily while he listened to Bruce pleasure himself a city away. 

Bruce laid down on the bed, pushing down his trousers. He wouldn’t go so far to finger himself, because it would probably make Clark sad if– when he tried to eat him out later, and his hole didn’t start off nice and tight. 

Bruce wrapped a hand around his cock, dragging his fist from base to tip in long, slow pulls, allowing grunts and breathy moans to escape, hoping to aggravate Clark. Bruce arched his back, biting back an embarrassingly high pitched whimper as he tried to grind his palm over the head of his cock like Clark does for him. 

When Clark does it, Bruce thrashes weakly to get away from the intense sensation, while Clark restrains him, his hand unyielding as he palms Bruce’s soft, spongy cockhead. Bruce can’t do it himself properly, pulling his hand away when it gets too intense instead of persisting. 

Pleasure built up slowly in Bruce’s core, bundling into a tight knot of arousal, and he moved his hand faster, letting his over hand move below his balls to rub firm circles into his taint, just like Clark does to him.

With a cry, Bruce orgasmed, and he hoped that Clark heard him from his work, maybe he would be convinced to actually live up to his dirty talk today and eat Bruce out properly, instead of teasing him mercilessly.

“Didn’t finger myself,” Bruce muttered, still dazed from orgasm, knowing Clark would hear him and be reassured that he would still get Bruce’s ass in prime condition later. Spoiled little shit. 

While cleaning up, Bruce felt sort of sated, but was still pent up in ways only Clark could satisfy. God, the man had ruined him for anyone else. Wandering down to the kitchen, Bruce heard clattering coming from the room, and he paused. 

Alfred didn’t usually make such a clamour, and the baby bats should still be at school, so Bruce could only assume that one of his other batkids had dropped by. 

Sure enough, when Bruce peered into the kitchen, padding into the room, someone was barefooted, hunched over and rummaging in the freezer. Two tubs of ice cream were stacked on the counter behind them, and apparently that wasn’t enough because soon enough a mop of dark locks with a streak of white glared over the top of the freezer door. Jason emerged with another tub of vanilla ice cream in hand, placing it on the counter.

“What are you doing here?” Jason spat, eyeing him beadily. He moved somewhat protectively over to his stack of ice cream tubs, as if daring Bruce to comment. 

“Well, I live here,” Bruce said, still a bit confused on why Jason stopped at the manor to raid his freezer of all things. “And hello to you too.”

Jason rolled his eyes, apparently deciding that no more words need be exchanged, and he turned back to the freezer, reaching back inside. Bruce stared for a moment, speechless. Jason had barely allowed Bruce to see him on the rooftops of Gotham over the past few weeks, and now he was armourless, weaponless (actually, Jason probably was somewhat armed despite his attire) and casually in Bruce’s kitchen .

“Are you…staying in your room?” Bruce asked carefully.

Jason grunted unhelpfully in reply, more focused on getting shoulder deep in the freezer. His shirt rode up significantly from the rummaging, revealing a large bruise on his hip.

Bruce’s brow narrowed in concern, before brushing it off. Jason would likely be getting into all sorts of scrapes while lurking around Gotham at night as Red Hood, so Bruce needn’t look into it too much.

Jason leant back on his haunches, “No, I’m just here to steal your food.” 

He promptly then buried his head back into the freezer. This movement revealed more of the bruise, and its shape caught Bruce’s eye. There were thinner, longer protrusions spanning off of the larger centre bruise, that almost looked like…finger marks?

“Jason, did someone grab you?” Bruce demanded, and this startled Jason out of his searching. 

“What are you on about, old man?”

Bruce ignored the nickname, and pointed to Jason’s hip. “Your armour shouldn’t allow a bruising so defined. I told you to let me reinforce your goddamn Red Hood suit, I keep telling you–”

Jason’s expression turned seething, and his cheeks burned pink as he harshly tugged his shirt down. He stood up, squaring up to his father.

“You mind your fucking business.” 

Bruce matched his posture, but his expression was less hostile.

“ Jason–”

Jason dragged a hand down his face, making a sound of anguish. Bruce raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“I’m just trying to help–”

“Bruce,” Jason gritted out, jabbing a finger towards Bruce’s face. “What’s that there on your neck? Does your batsuit need reinforcing so that criminals can’t sock you in the jaw?”

Bruce raised a hand to his neck, confused, and his eyes widened as his fingers met the likely very visible mark on his jaw, where Clark had sucked a hickey yesterday in the Batcave. Oh.

Bruce cringed, and Jason seemed to derive at least a bit of joy from his father’s discomfort. Jason shut the freezer door, collected his four tubs of ice cream, and swiftly exited the kitchen with his loot, a smug grin on his face. 

Brat.

                                  _______________________________________

17:30

Bruce groaned, staring at the digital clock on his bedside table. Clark was running late, he had sent Bruce a text that he needed to finish up an article he had been putting off or Perry will ‘have his hide’, and Bruce had promptly sent back a picture of him holding a dildo. 

Clark had a weird sort of possessive thing going on where he hates the idea of Bruce using a dick shaped sex toy on himself, so immediately panicked upon seeing the photo, reassuring Bruce that he wouldn’t be home later than 5:30. The poor man was probably still stressing about it right now, but Bruce wouldn’t actually take away Clark’s fun. He would wait. 

Also even though Clark could get pretty dom-like during sex, Bruce knew he wouldn’t be threatened with anything other than some edging and an extra intense orgasm if he did use a dildo on himself. Anything like a ‘punishment’ to Clark could only ever include pleasuring Bruce, because the smitten man couldn’t help himself. 

Bruce smiled, forgetting for a moment that he was still waiting on Clark. He rolled over onto his stomach, and rested his face on his arms. Clark really was something else, he paid attention to Bruce during sex as if he didn’t have his own needs, only wanting to orgasm after Bruce had been satisfied in at least a couple ways.

Bruce zoned out for a while, when all of a sudden his ankles were yanked back, and he twisted round in a flash, punching his attacker's face as hard as he could. 

“Ow!” Clark complained, and Bruce felt immense relief for a moment, both that he wasn’t being attacked, and that Clark had moved his head on impact so that Bruce wouldn’t dislocate his knuckles.

Bruce’s ankles were still in Clark’s grasp so Bruce just supported his hands on the bed, turning his head to glare at Clark over his shoulder. “‘Ow’? Don’t be dramatic.”

Clark frowned, looking genuinely hurt. “I’m not, you punched me. That’s not a nice thing to do to your boyfriend .”

Bruce faced the headboard, refusing to look at Clark. “Well I wouldn’t do that to my boyfriend, because I was punching who I thought was my attacker. ”

Clark gasped, “I wouldn’t attack you!”

“Well you damn well snuck up on me like you were going to!” Bruce grumbled, and Clark whined pathetically, shaking Bruce’s ankles. 

“Well I didn’t mean to!”

Bruce scoffed, and let out an ‘ oof ‘ as Clark flattened himself against Bruce’s back, mumbling apologies into Bruce’s ear, rubbing his face between Bruce’s shoulder blades.

“I’m sorry,”

“Get off.”

“I’m sorry,”

“ Clark .”

Clark propped his chin up on Bruce’s shoulder, kissing the shell of Bruce’s ear sweetly. “If you forgive me, that means we can make the most of our alone time.” Clark waggled his eyebrows ridiculously, and Bruce snorted.

He hummed, turning his head to let Clark kiss him, sighing softly into the kiss. Then he yelped in surprise as Clark was gone from his back, and his ankles were yanked back once again, pulling his hips to the edge of the bed, the balls of his feet resting on the floor. 

“Clark what–”

Clark pushed up Bruce’s shirt, mouthing at his lower back. “Heard you touching yourself earlier,” He said softly, letting his teeth graze Bruce’s skin. Bruce shivered, and he pressed his face into the covers. 

“I’m sure you did. That means you already know how much I want it, so get on with it.”

Clark rested his chin on Bruce’s lower back fingers hooking into the waistband of his trousers playfully. “Want…what?”

“Damn it Clark!” Bruce cried, and he arched his back desperately. “You know what I’m talking about! Or have you forgotten all the things you said you would do to me yesterday?” 

Bruce felt Clark grin against his skin, and he whined in complaint. 

“Oh you mean,” Clark moved to speak in Bruce’s ear, letting go of his waistband. “Eat you out? Lick into your lovely hole until it’s fluttering around my tongue?” 

Bruce groaned, mashing his face into the covers. “ Yes, Clark, that.”

Clark hummed, and moved down Bruce’s body, pulling his trousers and boxers off together. He mouthed at Bruce’s right ass cheek, and Bruce moaned softly as Clark’s tongue flicked out to graze the cleft of his ass, nowhere near his twitching hole. 

“ Clark , stop teasing,” Bruce tried to sound demanding, but he just sounded desperate. 

Clark only chuckled in response, the bastard, and slid a hand between Bruce’s legs, wrapping it around his aching shaft. “Oh, I’ve barely done anything. You’re just so eager for anything huh? You’ve been deprived recently, haven’t you baby?”

Bruce whimpered, and tried to buck into Clark’s hand, but Clark pulled it away, placing it on Bruce’s thigh, gripping the flesh firmly. When Clark finally laved his tongue over Bruce’s hole, Bruce moaned in relief, feeling Clark suck and nip at his rim, leaving hickeys all along his crack and taint. 

Clark latched his mouth onto the skin just behind Bruce’s balls, rubbing his tongue against the flesh as he sucked feverishly, and Bruce cried out. Clark’s tongue and teeth marked up Bruce’s ass and the skin surrounding his hole, making Bruce more needy for a tongue inside him. 

“Clark please, ” Bruce breathed out, and Clark near growled, finally licking into Bruce's hole with an eager tongue. The muscle worked Bruce open, plunging into his hole, and Clark often paused to suck at Bruce’s quivering rim, sloppily biting at the tender flesh of Bruce’s inner ass cheek. 

Bruce was going to have bite marks everywhere, because Clark seemed to be taking ‘eating ass’ a bit fucking literally. Clark moaned as he got his tongue deep in Bruce’s hole, prodding Bruce’s prostate experimentally. 

“ Fuck, right there Clark,” Bruce mewled, grinding ass ass back onto Clark’s face shamelessly. Pleasure sang in Bruce’s veins as Clark stimulated his prostate, mouth latched onto his rim, broad tongue vibrating vigorously against Bruce’s walls. 

Bruce whimpered, choking out a litany of begs as he tried to get Clark’s tongue deeper, twisting to place a hand on the back of Clark’s head encouragingly. Bruce could only touch the floor with the balls of his feet, which slid against the carpet as he endured the intense rimming.

BZZZZ BZZZZ BZZZ

Bruce barely registered the sound at first, then groaned. He strained to grab his phone, Clark still eating his ass out like he was starving, and expected to toss it to the side after reading the caller ID. 

The ID was a group call, from the BATFAMILY group chat that both Bruce and Jason had been added to against their will. Bruce squeezed his eyes shut. Fuck, if it was important, Bruce needed to know. What if someone was hurt? 

“Fucking hell how do we keep getting interrupted?” Bruce just wanted to get his ass eaten for crying out loud. 

With much mental determination, Bruce tried to still Clark’s head with his hand, pulling the man's face from his ass. Clark seemed dazed, unaware that Bruce had a call, and had spit around his mouth, slightly slack jawed. 

Bruce bit back a moan at the sight. “Clark stop for a minute, I need to take this.”

“What?” Clark complained weakly, but Bruce shushed him and answered the call, with Clark resigned to lazily mouthing at his ass cheek. 

“Is this important?” Bruce snapped, and voices erupted from the speaker as soon as he’d pressed join. 

“BRUCE!” Dick’s voice yelled through the phone, sounding delighted. “WE’RE CALLING TO TELL YO–”

“HI BRUCE!” Wally’s voice erupted from the phone, the little speaker lines showing that he was talking through Dick’s side. “THANKS FOR THE HELP WITH THE SUIT!”

“S’fine,” Bruce grunted, and his patience was thinning rapidly. “What did you call to tell me?” 

Tim’s profile lit up, “We need to know if you are free on Sunday because Cassandra is visiting–”

“ –AND YOU KNOW HOW MUCH SHE LOVES WHEN YOU ARE THERE TO SEE HER!” Dick finished.

That’s it? 

Bruce started to reply, but slapped his hand over his mouth with a ‘hnghh’ as he felt a tongue prodding at his hole. He pressed mute immediately, not wanting any risk of traumatizing his children and twisted to face Clark. 

“Clark! I’m trying to–ohh” Bruce cut off with a moan as Clark began vibrating his tongue again. The constant rimming had him on the precipice of orgasm, and with the way Clark was gripping his thighs, sliding his thrumming tongue in and out of his hole–

Bruce orgasmed with a cry, spilling his release over the bedsheets, his phone nearly slipping out his hand. Bruce went limp against the mattress, a wonderful relief washing over him. 

“Bruce?” (Tim)

“Bruceeeee” (Dick)

Bruce shakily brought his phone to his face, fumbling to press unmute. 

“Well if you’re not gonna answer, we’ll just come to you.” Bruce could hear the grin in Dick’s voice and he pressed unmute, desperately trying to stop that train of action.

“Wait boys–” The call ended, and Bruce began to panic. 

“Clark,” He turned around, but Clark was busy still lapping at Bruce’s fluttering hole, which was extra sensitive after all that treatment. “Clark!”

“Hmm?” Clark finally pulled away, peering up the planes of Bruce’s back to meet his eyes. “Oh, was that the boys? What did they want?”

Bruce was very close to kicking Clark. His face was right there, and if Bruce just lifted his foot he could definitely get a good hit. 

“They are coming, they want to talk to me. Clean us up now .” 

Clark’s eyes widened, and he opened his mouth to protest. “But I didn’t even get to–”

“Don’t care. That’s what you get for trying to eat me out while you knew I was on a call with my sons. Now you need to clean us up–”

Clark slumped, “Great, now I’m being punished for giving you pleasure.”

“Pity yourself all you want. Right now, after the boys leave us alone, I may consider giving you a blowjob. If they walk in here and find me half naked and come all over the sheets, I can assure you that you will not be getting anything.”

That seemed to motivate Clark, and he speedily changed the sheets, wiping Bruce down and fixing his own hair in a matter of seconds. God, that superspeed really was helpful. Bruce had just about managed to do up his belt when he heard footsteps stampeding down the hallway, his knees still feeling weak. 

“Here we go,” Bruce sighed, and Clark pecked him on the forehead. 

Dick slammed open the door, Tim skidding to a halt behind him, Damian riding on his back. Clark looked majorly concerned for a moment after seeing Damian on Tim’s back, Bruce had no idea why, but he relaxed shortly. 

“Bruce, I don’t know if you could hear us on call, you didn’t respond–”

“I heard you. Yes I will be free on Sunday to meet with Cassandra, it’s nice that she has time to visit.” 

Bruce noted how many batkids there were, and raised an eyebrow. “Has your brother left for his apartment already?”

Jason entered the view of the doorway, looking unimpressed and shovelling chocolate ice cream into his mouth. Ah, so he’s still here. Bruce turned to his eldest batkid.

“Did this really require in person–discussion?” He scolded lightly, and Dick smiled nervously, shrugging. 

“You are kinda hard to get a hold of.” 

“Get out.”

Dick hesitated, peering into the bedroom, and Bruce grabbed a slipper which was tucked neatly by the edge of the bed.

“You love us!” Dick called as he and his brothers fled down the hallway, Tim nearly getting hit by the slipper Bruce flung at them due to being slowed by Damian on his back. 

Bruce and Clark just stood there for a moment, listening to the fading sound of chattering as the boys left. 

“You know, we haven’t actually fucked in a full working week now.” Clark piped up.

Bruce threw the other slipper at him.

Chapter Text

The movie had ended a while ago, the credits long past the music and fun animations to the crammed in legal details rolling in tiny text. Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damian were all present alongside Bruce and Clark, each sprawled out in various positions over the furniture. 

Damian had claimed an armchair for himself, curling up with Alfred the cat in his lap, Jason was actually lying on his back on the rug rather than a couch, one arm slung over his face and mouth slightly slack as he snored softly. Dick was claiming the whole of the largest couch directly in front of the TV, head propped up on a pillow as he dozed. Tim was the only one of the batkids awake, still staring blearily at the credits, looking very tired. 

Clark knew that Tim was a major insomniac just like Bruce, more than any of the other batkids who also shared that trait, so he wasn’t surprised that Tim had managed to stay awake the longest. Tim was actually lying down on the floor with Jason, using his brother’s thigh as a pillow, so Clark expected that he would fall asleep soon enough. 

It was honestly really domestic to see all the kids coexisting in peace, especially Jason and Tim, because Clark would have expected the older batkid to have booted Tim away from him even in sleep. Though, Clark had noted when Jason’s breathing had truly evened out, and that was a good few minutes after Tim had utilised his thigh as a headrest. 

Clark himself was seated in the couch diagonal to the TV, laying on his back, propped up against the armrest with Bruce’s own back resting against his chest. Bruce hadn’t been watching the movie much, instead tapping away on his phone, squinting at the blue screen while occasionally elbowing Clark to get him to keep massaging his neck. 

The massaging had started out totally innocent, Bruce’s head eventually lolling back onto Clark’s shoulder, his eyes slipping shut with a sigh, and Clark had taken the initiative to massage all around Bruce’s neck, his shoulders, his upper chest. Clark massaged as low as just above Bruce’s nipples, not straying to the tender, meaty part around and below them like he wanted to. 

Whilst a batkid remained awake, Clark had kept strictly professional, occasionally pressing a kiss to Bruce’s hair while rubbing circles all along his tense muscles. Now that the kids were asleep though, and that Tim was basically knocking out, Clark allowed his fingers to stray slightly lower. 

He slid his fingers over the contours of Bruce’s pecs, kneading the supple flesh that overlaid the firm muscles beneath, carefully avoiding Bruce’s nipples. Clark smirked, watching as the nubs perked up, peaking the fabric visibly as Clark circled the sensitive flesh around them over Bruce’s shirt. 

“Clark,” Bruce mumbled, not opening his eyes. “The kids.” 

Clark pressed his nose into Bruce’s hair, grinning. “All asleep, baby,” He whispered softly, and Bruce shifted with a grunt. 

Clark continued to massage Bruce’s pecs, kneading his palms over the mounds in slow circles, making Bruce’s breathing become more laboured. He writhed slightly, squirming as Clark groped more firmly, still avoiding the nipples. 

Rao, they were so perfect. They were practically begging for attention, hard and erect as Clark drew tight little circles around them with his finger. 

“Clark, stop teasing,” Bruce hissed into his ear, arching up slightly, and Clark chuckled softly, abruptly dragging the heel of his hand over a nipple, making Bruce gasp. 

“Whatever you want,” Clark muttered, and swiftly slid both hands up Bruce’s shirt, gripping a handful of Bruce’s plush chest in each hand. Bruce let out an aborted whimper, cutting it off in horror as his eyes darted to his kids. 

They were still asleep, Clark made sure to listen out to their breathing to ensure that they were, and to be honest if they woke up during this little foreplay, Clark would speed them both out of there in an instant. Bruce pressed his face into Clark’s neck, mouthing at his pulse point, and Clark smiled, bringing two of his fingers to Bruce’s mouth. 

“Lick,” He ordered gently, and Bruce raised an eyebrow. 

“Go on,” Clark encouraged, letting his index finger brush Bruce’s pretty lips, “Don’t you want some lube for when I fondle you?” 

Bruce squeezed his eyes shut, gritting his teeth, a flare of pink spilling over his cheeks. 

“I swear to god Clark if my kids hear any of this–”

“I’ll move us after I get to touch you here properly,” Clark interrupted, letting the hand still cupping Bruce’s pec squeeze firmly. “So open up.” 

Bruce reluctantly opened his mouth, but moaned softly as soon as Clark’s fingertips entered, tongue curling over the digits eagerly. When enough spit was retrieved, Clark drew back his hand, bringing it under Bruce’s shirt to finally rub over his pinkened nub, feeling it slide beneath the pads of his fingers. 

The fingers pinching Bruce’s other nipple had no lube, ao Clark moved his other hand out of Bruce’s shirt to also bring that one to Bruce’s mouth, but this time let them sink deeper into the hot wetness of Bruce’s mouth, keeping them there for Bruce to suckle on. Bruce could also bite down to muffle his whines, Clark’s fingers an unrelenting gag that Bruce could gnaw sweetly on while Clark played with his nipples.0

“You like this, don’t you?” Clark purred in Bruce’s ear, nosing his way to Bruce’s neck to suck at the soft skin of his throat. Bruce panted, still arching up desperately into the hand that tugged and rolled his thick nipple. 

Clark stopped teasing the nub for a moment to slide up Bruce’s shirt, letting it bunch around his clavicle. 

“Clark no– ” 

“They won’t see,” Clark whispered, “Just a little longer, then I’ll take us away.”

Clark looked down at Bruce’s revealed chest, licking his lips at the blushing pink nipples. The skin around them looked so ready to be bitten, and Clark placed two spit-slick fingers just below Bruce’s areola, pressing up into the tender, giving flesh, imagining sinking his teeth into there. He hunched forward with a groan, pressing his face into Bruce’s neck. 

Bruce turned his head to lick the shell of Clark’s ear. Now that Clark had shown signs of his own need, it was inevitable that Bruce would use it to his advantage to try speed things along. “Why don’t you take us away from the sleeping kids so that you can get your mouth on me properly?” Bruce whispered slowly.

Clark’s cock kicked in his boxers at the thought, and he slid a hand down to cup Bruce’s own bulge, palming softly. “Yeah, let’s get out of here.”

Clark flew them to Bruce’s bedroom, immediately fumbling to push up Bruce’s shirt, wanting to nurse on Bruce’s thick nipples. But he was stopped with a hand on his head, pushing him away from his trajectory. 

“Whattt?” Clark whined in frustration, trying to push closer. 

Bruce swallowed, making Clark meet his gaze. “Not here, we’ve been interrupted in this room all week, and I’m not risking anything.”

Clark frowned, still subtly trying to get Bruce’s pecs exposed. “You want to come to mine? But you always insult my bed–”

“Don’t care, I’ll just ride you if that’s what I have to do to not ruin my back on that awful mattress.” Bruce said, like he was proposing a casual solution, and Clark barely choked out a reply. It was honestly strange how Clark found it easy to dirty talk, but still managed to get caught off guard when Bruce does it back (albeit in a less sexy, more deadpan way).

Clark flew them to his apartment, immediately shucking his shoes and dragging Bruce to the bedroom. Bruce pressed up against him, going on his tippy toes to wrap an arm around Clark’s head, kissing him deeply and sloppily. Clark’s arms wrapped around Bruce’s waist, gripping tight as he rocked his hips forward into Bruce’s.

They managed to get Bruce’s trousers off before Clark pulled them back together, aligning their bodies and wrapping both arms around Bruce’s waist. Bruce’s lips were reddening from the attention, and Clark smirked.

Bruce’s tongue was sliding against Clark’s hungrily, both licking into each other's mouths and rolling their bodies. Clark had to eventually tear away from him to let Bruce come up for air. He ducked to kiss Bruce’s jaw, wanting to leave a hickey but decided he had no patience and moved back up to ravage Bruce’s mouth, grinding their hips together more firmly now. 

“Ahh–Clark–yes–” Bruce was panting, legs shaking and weak kneed as Clark’s thigh shoved between Bruce’s, giving him a better place to rub up against. 

“Come on baby,” Clark breathed, hands coming to Bruce’s hips to guide him to hump, making Bruce whimper in embarrassment. 

“Don’t be shy,” Clark cooed in Bruce’s ear, sucking the lobe into his mouth briefly, “Rub up against me like I know you want to. My thigh is all yours.”

Bruce was mewling desperately, and Clark was cruelly pinning his thigh high up enough between Bruce’s legs that Bruce would have to balance on the tips of his toes in order to not put a significant amount of delicious, overwhelming pressure on his crotch. 

While Bruce was distracted with his new task, clutching Clark’s shoulders desperately as he ground his hips down, Clark slipped a hand down the back of Bruce’s boxers. 

Clark could feel how much Bruce’s cock had been weeping, slicking his fingers with the precum pooling at the base of Bruce’s shaft. “Oh–god,,” Bruce strained to get the words out, still pathetically rocking his hips against Clark's thigh. Once Clark’s fingers were lubed, he slid his hand down just behind Bruce’s balls, vibrating them against Bruce’s taint. 

Bruce cried out, and Clark knew he ought to be extra sensitive there by now. Clark had taken a liking to stimulating Bruce there, neglecting touch to his hole while sending vibrations up behind Bruce’s balls to edge his cock of orgasm. It worked spectacularly, making Bruce pant and writhe, cursing in frustration and arousal.

“You are going to come like this,” Clark stated, pleased when Bruce whined. His poor cock must be overstimulated by now from the material of his boxers rubbing against him, but the thought just made Clark moan. He found it so exhilarating watching Bruce work himself towards orgasm, essentially rubbing himself off on Clark .  

Bruce’s thrusts became shorter, hips stuttering, and Clark pressed his fingers more firmly against Bruce’s taint, grinding them in slow circles, wringing the orgasm out of Bruce thoroughly. 

Bruce slumped against Clark afterwards, and Clark kissed him on the forehead, helping Bruce peel off his boxers, before shedding his own clothes. 

“How does a shower sound?” Clark hummed, and Bruce shook his head weakly, collapsing to his knees in front of Clark. Clark yelped in concern, but Bruce had intent, and was meekly mouthing at Clark’s cockhead, eyelids still heavy with his post orgasm daze. 

“ Rao Bruce, at least let me clean you up first.” Clark pried Bruce away from his cock, making his boyfriend elicit a whine, and picked him up, maneuvering them to the shower. Clark wanted to at least make Bruce come back to his right mind before trying to take Clark’s dick, mouth or otherwise, and put him down on the porcelain floor of the large shower. Bruce slumped against the tiled wall, and Clark cupped his face to kiss his forehead again, Bruce leaning into the touch. 

Clark slid the glass panel of the shower door closed, and turned on the spray, altering the temperature. 

“Clark,” Bruce mumbled, and wrapped an arm around his boyfriend's leg. “M’fine now.” He looked adorable, despite what he was proposing, pressing his face into the side of Clark’s leg. Clark smiled fondly, moving a hand to thread through Bruce’s flat, soaked locks.

“It’s been two minutes, Bruce.”

“Ngh.”

Bruce shifted back, and Clark was about to crouch to help Bruce clean up but then nearly choked on his own spit. 

Bruce was leaning back against the tiles again, both hands groping his own chest, rubbing his nipples with his brow pinched in concentration. The site was fucking hot, Bruce putting effort into stimulating his needy chest that Clark had yet to put his mouth on. Clark groaned as he watched Bruce tug at his neglected nipples, whining softly, and his cock filled rapidly. 

“Bruce, can’t this wait?” Clark pleaded helplessly, unable to tear his eyes away from the reddening nubs being flicked and rubbed. 

“You’re the one so–nghh– adamant about cleaning up. Go ahead.” 

Clark paused, suddenly regretting his former insistence, and began to reluctantly slather body wash on his neck and clavicle. Bruce kept fondling his chest, and Clark kept glancing at him longingly out of the corner of his eye, his erection still at full mast. Clark cursed his body's reaction, he couldn’t even prove a point because he was too affected. 

All of a sudden Bruce moved between Clark’s legs, kneeling between them. Clark nearly dropped the bottle of body wash he was holding.

“Bruce what–”

Bruce took advantage of Clark’s erection to grab his hips and take him to the root, Clark’s cockhead bumping the back of Bruce’s throat.

“ O-ohh, ” Clark groaned out, feeling the wet heat surround his shaft, “Be–ahh– careful Bruce,”

Bruce bobbed his head, rubbing his tongue under the tip of Clark’s cock, sucking harshly when he met the base. Clark’s cock relied on a lot of stimulation during a blowjob, his orgasms building a lot slower and a lot stronger than human ones, so Bruce sucked more than would be preferred by your average blowjob receiver. Clark’s only idea of your ‘average blowjob receiver’ being Bruce.

Clark panted, moving to brace a hand on the wall behind him, trying to respectfully not buck his hips up into Bruce’s mouth. Bruce often didn’t mind when Clark fucked his face, the kryptonian always making sure that he never went too aggressive, allowed Bruce to breathe and didn’t injure his boyfriend. 

Clark groaned softly as his orgasm approached, rapidly reaching the peak, and Bruce bobbed faster, hands gripping Clark’s thighs. 

“ Fuck. ” Clark tipped over the edge with a moan, trying to pull out of Bruce’s mouth, while Bruce was trying to swallow, so he just ended up with Clark’s come all around his mouth and dripping down his chest. 

Clark covered his face with a hand, breathing deeply. The sight of Bruce marked up with his come made Clark weak, and he steadied himself. 

He felt a tug on his hand and opened his eyes, to see that Bruce had hastily cleaned himself up and was dragging Clark out the en–suite. 

“Bruce, we need to dry off,” 

“Fuck that,” Bruce pulled Clark over to the bed, but Clark slowed him with a hand on his arm. 

“Just, at least give us a bit to recover first,” Clark needed time to get over his small refractory period, while Bruce was all fired up again, so he pushed Bruce onto his back on the bed, clambering on top of him. 

“I’ll keep you occupied, don’t worry.” 

Bruce grunted in approval, and Clark supported himself on his forearms, letting his eyes drag over Bruce’s naked chest. He never did manage to get to worship it earlier, too eager to get Bruce and himself off, but now he would make up for that.

Bruce’s chest was a sight to behold, his pecs full mounds curving upwards, firm when squeezed but the skin on top was delicate as ever. It was so easy to bruise with Clark’s mouth, the supple flesh blushing red and purple whenever Clark sucked there. 

When Clark let his mouth descend on Bruce’s chest, he didn’t bother teasing and latched straight onto a nipple, sucking rhythmically on the erect nub like he was trying to draw milk. Bruce whined and hunched forward, gripping the back of Clark’s head and pressing his mouth closer. Bruce always got so demanding when Clark enveloped his nipples into the warm heat of his mouth.

Clark popped off the nipple, licking his lips and sitting back on his haunches to grope a handful of both pecs. He ensured that both of Bruce’s nipples were each trapped between two fingers, being tugged as Clark squeezed the plush mounds. 

“Y’know Bruce,” Clark said huskily, leaning down to kiss Bruce’s neck and speak directly into his ear, “I think you get a little too confident when I do this to you.”

Bruce grunted softly in confusion, still trying to push his chest up into Clark’s hands. “What–nghh–are you talking about?”

Clark rolled Bruce’s nipples with his fingers, bending to suck one into his mouth briefly before answering Bruce’s question. 

“You get your hands on me, try to get me to suck harder or pull away when it gets too sensitive for you.”

Bruce writhed as Clark circled his spit slick nipples with the pads of his fingers, stimulating his puffy areolas. 

“I should probably tie you up some time, hmm? Make sure you don’t try control how I go about worshipping this pretty chest of yours.”

A whimper escaped Bruce’s lips, and Clark smirked, bending to kiss Bruce deeply, sucking on his bottom lip.

“I would vibrate my fingers over them for hours,” Clark gasped out between kisses, “I would keep going while they’re slippery and hard beneath my fingers, pinkened and needy from all the attention.”

“ God, Clark, ” Bruce’s hips bucked, and a his cock released a blurt of precome. “You can’t just say things like that–”

“I’d make you take it. Give these nubs all the attention they deserve without you pulling away.”

Bruce’s cock twitched, and pulsed out precome, the cockhead flushed and needy.

“Oh, is it making you want to come?” Clark cooed, moving a hand from Bruce’s pec to wrap around Bruce’s shaft. Bruce gasped, trying to thrust up into Clark’s fist, but Clark just squeezed the base of his cock, staving off any risk of impending orgasm. 

“ No ,” Bruce whined, before slapping a hand over his own mouth in embarrassment. Clark grinned, leaning down to kiss Bruce’s forehead. 

“Oh I know , baby, but there’s so much that I want to do with you first.”

Clark pulled Bruce to sit up, and flipped their positions, so that Bruce was straddling Clark’s hips. Bruce immediately began to adjust in Clark’s lap, ducking his head and gasping as he ground his ass back onto Clark’s cock. 

Clark groaned as he felt his cock slide along the cleft of Bruce’s ass, but painstakenly moved to still Bruce's hips.

“Nuh uh, sweetheart,”

Bruce looked up at him in confusion, and Clark could feel the little aborted movements that Bruce’s hips made in his grasp, still trying to grind against Clark. 

“Wrong seat.” Clark smirked as Bruce’s eyes widened, and he reached an arm back to tap the headboard behind him. “Hands on here baby.”

Bruce moaned softly, and moved up Clark’s torso, placing his hands on the headboard. He hid his face in the crook of his elbow, as Clark guided Bruce’s hips over his face. Clark’s pupils dilated with lust as he saw Bruce’s pink hole, flushed from being rubbed up against Clark’s cock. 

Bruce’s hips were pulled down abruptly, making him yelp, which turned into an “O-oh,” as Clark began eating him out with fervor. 

Clark pinned Bruce’s hips down, encouraging Bruce to put his full weight on his face, as Clark could handle it easily. He sucked and licked around Bruce’s hole, drawing moan after moan out of the burly man above him, and opened Bruce up with his tongue. 

Bruce’s hole fluttered around his tongue, walls clenching desperately, and Clark’s hand’s slid from Bruce's hips slightly lower to grasp his ass cheeks, squeezing the pert globes as Bruce ground his hole down on Clark’s tongue.

Clark groaned, the vibrations against Bruce’s hole making the other man cry out. Clark’s tongue plunged as deep as it could into Bruce’s hole, thrusting in and out as Clark worked his jaw. Spit ran over Clark’s chin as Bruce rode his face, speared on Clark’s tongue, and he barely remembered to stop before Bruce orgasmed. 

Bruce was just so good like that, could tip over the edge just from sitting pretty on Clark’s face, but Clark wanted their orgasms to be when Clark properly fucked him.

Clark lifted Bruce off his face, causing the other man to flail slightly, and maneuvered them so that Clark sat up, and Bruce had slid down into his lap. He reached for the lube on the nightstand, and began to slather it on his fingers, which made Bruce moan in anticipation. 

Bruce immediately wrapped his arms around Clark’s neck, kissing him sloppily, and Clark returned the sentiment, two fingers moving down to circle Bruce’s rim. Clark moaned into the kiss, tilting his head as Bruce ground his hips forward against Clark’s own. 

Fucking Bruce with his middle and ring finger meant that he could rub his index finger on Bruce’s rim, vibrating that finger only to tease the sensitive enterance. Bruce made a strangled noise into Clark’s mouth, desperately bucking backwards to try get the vibrating finger into him, but Clark stayed a tease, only letting it caress Bruce’s twitching hole. 

Bruce broke the kiss, and Clark’s breath hitched. Bruce’s face was flushed, his hair mussed and eyes hooded, his lower lip swollen and red. He looked utterly ravaged. 

“Please,” Bruce croaked into Clark’s neck, mouthing wetly at the skin there. “Please, I need it–”

Clark groaned, and drew his fingers out of Bruce, lifting his hips to line up with Clark’s cock. A whimper punched out of Clark’s chest as Bruce sank down on him, feeling the tightness slowly envelop his engorged cock. Bruce was panting, already impatient, trying to rock his hips. 

As enticing as the idea of Bruce trying to fuck himself on Clark’s cock was, Clark couldn’t hold himself back when Bruce was writhing in his lap, horny and desperate to be fucked. Clark gripped Bruce’s hips, bringing them up and down, and Bruce cried out, clutching Clark’s shoulders. 

They were both ridiculously pent up, despite the orgasms they had already achieved, and Clark thrust up into Bruce fast and hard, eventually leaning forward to push Bruce down into the mattress, moving himself so that he was on top of Bruce, Bruce’s legs spread obscenely wide. 

The new angle allowed him to snap his hips more accurately, stimulating Bruce’s prostate with a maddening precision, making Bruce start to make the breathy, short mewls he makes when he’s nearing orgasm.

Clark gripped Bruce’s waist, fucking into him, and he could feel the pleasure building rapidly in his gut. It was a molten pleasure curling through him, and Clark leant down to suck at one of Bruce’s nipples once more. 

Bruce let a hand come to grip the back of Clark’s head, moaning as Clark suckled greedily at the nub, enjoying the feeling of it against his tongue, and the tender flesh being sucked between his lips. 

After a particularly harsh thrust, nailing Bruce’s prostate, Bruce came with a cry, hole twitching around Clark’s cock as he tensed up, and that sent Clark careening over the edge himself.

Clark rode it out, groaning as he filled Bruce’s hole with his come. He pulled out carefully, wincing as his sensitive cock dragged against Bruce’s soft walls, and flopped down next to Bruce. 

Bruce’s eyes were closed, but he wasn’t asleep, just catching his breath. He looked beautiful, salt and pepper hair plastered to his forehead, chest rising and falling at a slowing rate. 

“Bruce,” Clark murmured, reaching over to brush the back of his hand over Bruce’s cheek. Bruce’s head lolled towards him, eyes cracking open slightly.

“Hnghh” Bruce muttered, trying to roll away from Clark, and Clark laughed softly, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to Bruce’s neck. He wrapped an arm around Bruce’s waist, pressing his chest up against Bruce’s back, peppering Bruce’s shoulder with kisses as sweat cooled on their skin.

Chapter Text

Jason tugged at his collar, cursing the stupid suit for being so fitted. He had loosened his tie an hour ago, and it had slowly come too far undone, and now Jason was torn between trying to re–tie or just discarding the thing. The gala was painfully boring, he didn’t understand how some people were fine with just swaying on the spot while making idle conversation, flashing cheap, plastic smiles and sipping disgustingly expensive champagne for hours.

Roy was supposed to have been his lifeline during the evening, but he had slipped off into the crowd about twenty three minutes ago, disappearing into the masses with a hurried goodbye and an excuse Jason didn’t catch. Well he hadn’t disappeared, because Jason had sought him out near immediately, scowling as he had discovered him engrossed in conversation with Dick. Jason knew that Roy knew his brother, the pair were old friends from during the Titans earlier years, but nonetheless Jason had been beadily staring them both down from the side of the hall for their entire conversation.

He kept noting the acceptable distance between them, smugly thinking about how much closer he now was with Roy than Dick had ever been. Recently their friendship had been in full bloom, and Jason was breaching semi–confidence that they were now in what Tim dubbed a ‘situationship’. 

Jason abhorred the term, and in no way would use it to describe what was between him and Roy, but it apparently meant when two people are harbouring romantic feelings towards each other, but have not taken on any labels. Or something along those lines. Jason definitely wouldn’t have taken the time to research that. 

It was just that Roy had been pleasantly touchy–feely lately, and Jason found himself looking forward to those moments. He didn’t know if maybe this was a proximity Roy took with all his friends, but Jason didn’t dare ask Dick, not wanting his siblings involved in his private life. Even the Tim comment about the situationship had only been a tease blurted out as he’d darted out of Jason’s apartment. 

Jason thought of all the moments that had made him tense up, afraid that Roy would remove his arm from around his shoulders or take his hand off of Jason’s knee. But Roy had always taken smoothly to when Jason had gone stiff in his hold, just comfortingly maintaining the contact until Jason calmed down and just got to bask in the feeling. 

Sometimes, Roy would slip behind Jason where he was sitting on the couch, slinging one arm over Jason’s shoulder and the other along the back of the couch, securing his arm across Jason’s clavicle to make him lean back into Roy’s chest. Jason knew that that wasn’t platonic. It couldn’t be. Jason couldn’t imagine Roy doing that with Dick, or anyone else for that matter. 

Roy would also often place a hand on Jason’s waist as he passed him in the kitchen, or gently clasp Jason’s arm when talking to him. Or sometimes–

“Ow! What the fuck, brat?” 

Jason rubbed his arm, glaring at Damian. The little demon child was smirking, and Jason was sure that he hadn’t been standing there 10 seconds ago. 

“I said your name multiple times, it’s not my fault that you required physical provocation.” Damian scoffed, leaning into Jason’s side. Jason wanted to push him off, but the brat looked tired on his feet, and Jason actually didn’t know whether he knew that he was swaying. 

“Yeah, well it’s not my fault that you’re too small for me to hear you.” 

Damian proceeded to jab Jason in his unprotected ribcage, making Jason curse his generosity, and he shoved Damian away. “Get off.”

As much as it had pained Jason to have his rather nice thought process interrupted, he now came to notice that Roy was no longer talking to Dick, and was now chatting to a tall blonde girl, who was made even taller by wearing a pair of slick black heels. She had her hair flowing freely around her breastbone, caressing her scantily clad cleavage, and a neat black dress, swishing around her knees. 

Roy, and Jason could confidently tell from here, was not looking respectfully. His posture was relaxed and open, as he laid a hand on the girl's shoulder, making her smile softly. The whole situation looked so earnest, as if Roy was actually interested in her. The thought stung, but Jason shook it off mildly. It wasn’t uncharacteristic of Roy to be enamoured by beautiful women, or to flirt with them, and he probably hadn’t had any real intentions with her anyway. 

He stalked over, coming up behind Roy, and the redhead turned to look at him cheerfully. “Oh! Hey Jaybird.” Roy gestured to the woman across from him, his hand still on her bare shoulder. “This is Julia, she’s–”

“Yeah yeah, nice to meet you. Need to have a word with Roy for a moment.” Jason not so subtly yanked Roy away, throwing a “Bye.” over his shoulder. Roy huffed, trying to turn to face Jason while being steered away. 

“Smooth one,” Roy snorted, but Jason didn’t reply.

“Hey, what’s your problem ?” He hissed, bumping Jason with his shoulder once they came to a standstill. “She was a nice girl, she works in Star City–”

Jason was significantly annoyed, glaring at Roy more obviously now that they were out of eyeshot from ‘Julia’. 

“You left me alone–”

“Oh come on Jay–”

“With the demon spawn–”

“Who now?”

Jason gritted his teeth, taking a deep breath through his nose. Roy frowned, and placed a hand on Jason's hip, squeezing gently. 

“Hey, okay fine I’m sorry, I know you hate these kinds of events,” He said in a hushed tone, and Jason stilled. Roy seemed to have touched his hip subconsciously, and his large palm felt warm and firm against his skin through his suit. 

Jason began to panic slightly. They were in public, and Roy was displaying affection just as if they were back in their apartment. He looked concerned, his thumb now stroking up and down against Jason’s hip, and Jason’s breath hitched. 

This was the first time that Roy had been so openly touchy in public, even just a hand on the hip. Something flared hopefully in Jason’s chest, and his eyes darted up to meet Roy’s briefly. 

He then seized Roy’s wrist, and dragged him again across the hall. 

“ Jesus Jason, what’s with all the pulling?”

Jason ignored Roy in favour of getting them across to a connecting hallway, barging through the doors carelessly, yanking Roy with him in tow. He didn’t stop until he got them inside an empty room, only then releasing Roy’s wrist. 

Roy muttered angrily to himself, and Jason met his eyes. 

“Explain.”

“Explain.”

Both of them stared confused at each other for a moment. 

“What do you mean me explain?” Jason said, affronted. 

Roy balked. “You’re the one who just kidnapped me and dragged me to a spare room!” He yelled, throwing his arm out to gesture to the door Jason had just slammed behind them. “What could I possibly have to explain?”

Yeah, okay fair, he had been hasty with their exit, but Jason needed to ask Roy about what they were doing. Maybe it was something to do with seeing him with Julia, the reminder that Roy is familiar with sleeping around and gliding from one person to the next. 

Roy was by no means shallow, but Jason didn’t want to face the possibility that Roy could have been doing just that recently because Jason hadn’t talked to him properly about what they are.

“All of this!” Jason yelled, gesturing helplessly to himself. “All of the, what you’ve been doing lately, with–” 

Roy didn’t seem to catch onto what Jason was talking about, and Jason felt a mildly humiliated flush prickle the back of his neck very uncomfortably. “You know what I’m talking about.”

“Uh, no, I don’t think I do,” Roy stated bluntly, eyes narrowing. “You’re being weird as fuck right now Jaybird.”

“ I’m being weird? You’re the one who’s been acting all, touchy–feely–”

“Touchy–feely??”

Jason cursed himself internally for using that stupid wording, and just grabbed Roy by the collar, fisting his dress shirt. “Don’t be an asshole.”

Roy’s temper cooled forcefully, and he wrapped a hand carefully around the wrist of the hand grabbing him. 

“Jason, what are you talking about?” 

Jason’s eyes flicked down to Roy’s lips in a moment of weakness. Fuck, he needed to be upfront. “The touches, and, y’know, the hand stuff.”

Roy blinked, gaze still cautious and his hand still gripping Jason’s threatening hold.

Jason faltered, neck heating further. “The…feelings stuff?”

Roy looked lost, confused eyes searching Jason’s pleading ones. “What…the hugs I’ve been giving you?”

Jason nodded quickly, hand tightening automatically on Roy’s collar in anticipation. Roy’s eyes widened fractionally, and he blurted out a string of excuses. 

“God, Jason, that–that was just casual. It didn’t mean anything.” 

Jason’s breath hitched. What?

“But you were treating me differently.” He had to have been. God it sounded childish, like he was scrambling for a different answer. Jason couldn’t have been reading that much into everything. He hardly let himself do that anyway, trying to stay closed off. And yet he had been so sure.

“Jay–what?”

“Do you do that with Dick?”

“What are you on abou–”

“Roy. With your other friends. Do you hug them?” God that sounded pathetic. Jason didn’t know how to get his words out into what he meant without that happening.

Roy’s breathing became slightly more laboured. “What–” He shut his eyes, taking a moment. “Yes, Jason. I do hug my friends.”

Jason frowned, fingers twitching. “I mean…I don’t know how to ex–”

“For christ sake’s Jason, calm down. Just, chill for a moment. I wasn’t treating you any differently, I do that with all my friends.”

Jason’s eyes darted between Roys, searching for any sort of understanding, but Roy seemed just…confused.  He didn’t think that he was treating you differently.

Realisation dawned on Jason, and he felt winded with how fast his confidence left him. He doesn’t even know what you’re talking about. Oh my god he has no idea. 

Jason’s fist remained clenched around Roy's collar as he froze up, expression turning into something vulnerable. Roy had caught him off guard, oh god, Jason had exploded into a possessive mantra about something he thought was going on between them, and now that he’d been corrected he didn’t know what to make of it. He doesn’t think that there was something between you. 

He doesn’t feel the same.

Jason swallowed, an uncomfortable lump forming in his throat. Roy hadn’t been touching him purposefully. He hadn’t been feeling the same way Jason had when he’d let Jason lean against his chest. God, Jason had gone to bed with a warm feeling in his stomach because he thought that Roy had been showing him that he felt the same, that he wanted Jason. 

Oh god, Jason thought, horror making his throat constrict, he doesn’t want me. I thought he’d been showing me that he wanted me.

Roy reacted surprised to Jason’s fallen expression lips moving to say something–

The door slammed open, and Jason snapped his head towards the noise. Was that…Clark? And, oh god, Bruce, both out of breath. 

Jason flailed back, seething. “What the fuck?” Jason looked at them in disgust as they both awkwardly tried to cover their tented slacks, and Bruce sidled behind Clark to hide his near ripped shirt.

“Oh my god, what the fuck,” Jason repeated, while Roy’s eyes darted between them, and the redhead raised an eyebrow. 

Jason’s face was still flaming from humiliation, his emotions making him twitchy and aggravated, confusion ripping him between wanting to yell at his father and run away from Roy.

“Uh, sorry for the intrusion,” Clark began, and Bruce snorted behind him. The fucker could at least have the gall to feel a bit remorseful. Jason could see Roy glancing at him sheepishly in his peripheral, and didn’t meet his gaze. Fuck, he didn’t know how he was going to explain himself and his reaction, he didn’t want to tell Roy that he’d been reading into the touches, that he thought Roy had feelings for him. 

He didn’t want Roy to know that Jason had wanted Roy to have feelings for him. If he hadn’t already figured that out anyway from Jason’s half articulated interrogation. That was just a new level of pathetic, but Jason’s eyes still prickled hot with unshed tears. Fuck.

“So are you guys–” Roy was silenced as Jason grabbed his wrist, harshly yanking him towards the door. At least remove one problem at a time, he didn’t need his debauched father and father’s boyfriend standing in the room while he tried to make Roy forget about the situation.

“Shut up, let’s just go. I don’t even want to know.” 

Jason ignored the look Bruce sent his way as he dragged Roy out of the room. 

“Jason.” Roy said firmly.

Jason ignored that too,trying to pull Roy down the corridor. He could feel Roy trying to take his arm back, and he tightened his grip, but Roy got his arm free.

“Jason, stop.”

Jason didn't meet his eyes.

Roy sighed, running a hand through his hair. Jason hated that sound, god it made him want to bolt. He didn’t need to be rejected. He was perfectly capable of imagining how much he’d messed up, and didn’t want to be placated or let down slowly. That was just a stupid, cruel term for drawing out a loss. 

“You thought I meant something else, didn’t you?”

Jason near choked on his own spit, taken aback by Roy’s direct approach. He quickly took advantage of his earlier vagueness, trying to soothe the blow and maintain some self esteem.

“No, don’t assume things.”

“You literally just told me.”

“No, I don’t believe I ever explicitly stated anything of the sort.” Fuck he sounded like Damian, except much less confident and with his hands shaking slightly.

“Jason.”

“Roy.”

Roy sighed again. Jason wanted to punch something. And if he wasn’t very careful, that might end up being Roy, and then that would make everything worse. Jason was desperately trying to get the walls back up around his heart. They had been taken down gently one by one throughout Roy’s affectionate touches, and now this felt like slapping cement together and trying to fumble them into a sort of barrier, the bricks positions deformed and not slotting back into place properly.

“Y’know, we should move out the hallway and to another room, considering your parents are probably about to get down and dirty in that one.” Roy said, pointing to the room they just exited. 

Jason whacked him. It wasn’t a punch, but it was a firm whack.

“Ow! Hey, we're supposed to be dealing with feelings and stuff here.”

Jason’s eyes widened at the slight mockery to his previous fumbling while trying to confess, and his cheeks burned, stomach dropping once more with the raw humiliation. Any chance of Roy maybe taking this seriously, maybe acknowledging why Jason thought what he did, seemed to have gone out the window. Roy had apparently been trying to lighten the mood, and winced at the furious expression on Jason’s face. 

“You shut the fuck up, you inconsiderate prick.” Jason croaked out, turning on his heel, fists clenched. He needed to get out of there, away from Roy, before he punched something. 

Roy grabbed his arm, “Jason, please, let’s just talk about this for a moment, I think there’s been a misunderstanding–”

Jason turned in Roy’s grasp and swung.

Roy dodged easily, trapping Jason’s arm. “ Jason, I’m not trying to cause conflict here–”

“No, you’re not.” Jason hissed, horrified to feel his eyes burning. “But I don’t need your peacemaker. Your attempt at justifying yourself and explaining how my interpretation was not warranted, how it was unrealistic. I know. I get it, I hear you, you can shut the fuck up about it now.”

Roy was staring in shock, and Jason turned to duck his head, unable to meet his gaze. “I know you hug everyone, and touch everyone like you have been to me, and I know that I’m just too fucking touch starved to recognise a normal thing for what it is–”

Roy released Jason’s arms. Jason drew one quickly to his face to rub furiously at his eyes, but Roy stopped him, grabbing his face and kissing him. Jason made a strangled noise, startling back.

Roy had pulled him forward firmly enough so that he couldn’t back away before Roy’s intentions were clear, but before their lips met he loosened his hold enough so that Jason could very well pull away if he wanted. 

Roy put his hands on Jason’s shoulders to steady him, also making sure that Jason didn’t just bolt. 

“Jason, I wasn’t lying when I said I do hug all my friends,” Jason’s brow furrowed, not sure where this was going, “Because that is normal, and I will continue to do that.”

Jason began to writhe again, feeling the let down coming. But it didn’t.

“But,” Roy added, smoothing his palms down Jason’s arms. “The reason I said that I didn’t treat you differently came out kind of unclear. I wanted to reassure you that my proximity with Julia wasn’t any special treatment, and that’s true. I do get quite, as you say, touchy–feely with people regularly.”

Jason looked away, but Roy grabbed his chin, gently forcing him to look at his face. And it was a pretty earnest face. Jason felt flayed open, vulnerable to being affected deeply by any wrong words. He hated it.

“I didn’t want you to get jealous, to think that I was giving her something that you didn’t already have. That’s what I meant by ‘I don’t treat you any differently.’ Because I don’t treat everyone else any differently to that of which I treated her. But you aren’t everyone else. Not to me.”

Jason processed that for a minute. 

He whacked Roy again. 

“Ow! What now?” Roy yelped, clutching his shoulder. 

“You. Piece. Of. Shit.” Jason was pissed, still nursing his poor heart through the lingering remnants of humiliation. Despite how good the kiss had been.

“What? I explained myself!”

“Yeah! Stupid fucking explanation! Oh, just used the wrong words, did you? Accidentally said that I was being treated the same as everyone else while meaning that she was treated the same as everyone else?!” Jason was frantic, near screeching. Roy looked awfully sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I meant it like, you both were sharing the experience of me being touchy, as you are my friend, and Dick is my friend, and she was becoming my friend, but I didn’t think about how I should have stressed that you are that and more –”

“You know what was running through my head? Oh fuck, I’ve been feeling wanted for the past couple months because of special touches and intimacy, but no! He doesn’t want you, not even a bit. It was all casual you see–”

Roy kissed him again. Jason was significantly annoyed that he was being interrupted, but kissed back anyway. They broke apart, a thin string of saliva connecting their mouths, and Jason wiped his lips on his sleeve hastily, cheeks flaming. 

Roy cupped his jaw. “I’m sorry, okay? I’ll admit, I was a little intimidated because you were literally gripping my collar like you were about to throw me. That made it a tad hard to think my words through.”

“Wasn’t gonna throw you,” Jason mumbled, and Roy grinned.

"Yes, yes you were."

They were quiet for a few moments before Roy spoke up.

“Just to be clear,” Roy said, tilting Jason’s face up towards him again. “I shouldn't have mocked you earlier. As in two minutes ago. I was panicking and making a joke which was really shitty of me–”

Jason brought their mouths together, effectively cutting Roy off and shutting him the fuck up, and the redhead groaned softly into the kiss, hands going straight to Jason’s waist.

Their tongues slid together, and Jason gasped shakily into Roy’s mouth, stifling a whimper as Roy tilted his head to kiss him deeper. Jason gripped the back of Roy’s head with one hand, tangling his fingers in the shortish locks, and the other hand was wrapped around Roy’s shoulder, pulling him closer. It felt so good to be kissing Roy, so intimate to do so as well. His skin tingled pleasantly wherever Roy touched him, in that giddy way when you have your first kiss with someone you like.

Roy’s own hands slid down to Jason’s waist, hips, and thighs, lifting up one of Jason’s thighs slightly to grip it and squeeze the toned muscles, the other arm wrapping around Jason’s waist to pull him flush against him.

Eventually they ended up against the wall, Jason pinned by Roy, his thigh hiked up higher to align their hips. Roy was mouthing at Jason’s neck, his light stubble scraping in a way that made Jason hyper aware of every sensation, arching his back and squirming slightly. 

He kept making breathy little moans whenever Roy sucked just under his ear, he couldn’t help it, and that just made Roy an edge more aggressive, more needy, rolling his hips and pressing the muscled line of his body firmly against Jason’s. 

Roy broke away from sucking a mark into Jason’s neck, checking his watch. The nerve was kind of insane. Jason was right there, ready to be ravaged, but knowing the time apparently trumped that. 

Jason was aware that he may be being a tad bit dramatic. Sue him, he was fucking rock hard in his pants and in need of attention. 

Roy ducked his head to press a kiss to Jason’s swollen lips, sucking briefly on his tongue, drawing a whine out of Jason. 

“Baby, we’ve got the auction now. Well, it started ten minutes ago.” Roy glanced at his watch again, concern growing on his face, and yeah no, the auction could wait. Jason’s cheeks flushed at the pet name, kind of wanting to both slap Roy and also kiss him.

“Screw the auction,” Jason muttered, grabbing Roy’s neck to draw him back in for another filthy kiss. Roy gave in for a few moments, but eventually pulled away.

“Don’t we kind of need to be there though?”

Jason rolled his eyes, letting his fingers play with the shorter strands of hair at the base of Roy’s neck.

“You planning on buying anything?”

“...No?”

“Spectacular. Didn’t think so.”

Jason brought their mouths together.

Chapter Text

Just wanted to put this chapter for any requests or prompts you guys would want me take into consideration, can’t say I will respond to all but I view the Inbox(1) like a damn Christmas present so I will definitely read any and all of the requests I receive.

This is mainly just me putting a place to look for inspiration if I do consider writing more fics, if you guys want to share any that would be lovely.

Just so I don’t disappoint, here are some taboo things I inevitably won’t write:
- scat
- water sports
- BDSM Scenes (idk if that is necessarily taboo, but I feel it requires a lot of knowledge and skill to properly represent a bdsm scene, and can’t be done just by consuming an ungodly amount of Destiel sub dean fics like I have)
- gore/Dark Characters (as in domestic violence, however I can write scenes with semi-graphic depictions of injury if due to a hurt/comfort dynamic and not erotic purpose)
- asphyxiation

- omega verse is a real grey area for me because I occasionally enjoy reading it but only in rare finds. Feel free to comment a/b/o requests, if I feel really inspired by a prompt it may happen.

Unfortunately I don’t think I’m blessed with word-building, so let’s keep our standards low and prompts essentially pwp 🫡