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A wounded bat can still fly

Summary:

Bruce is injured on a mission but that doesn't stop him from wanting some one-on-one time with his boyfriend. Clark is worried but not unwilling - Bruce does have a way of talking him into things. Although this one is mostly Clark's idea.

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“Do I need to tie you up for you to keep your promise?”
There’s a short pause where Bruce considers it. It’s not the first time they’ve used ropes in the bedroom, but usually Clark is the one tied up, because… well, because he enjoys it. A lot. “No,” Bruce finally says.
“Alright.” Clark nods. “What do you want me to do?”
“Anything you want.”

Notes:

Soooo.... this is a first, huh? This was fun! Nerve-racking, but fun :D I couldn't exactly do a Superbat event without some smut, could I? ;) ENJOY, FRIENDS <3

Work Text:

“It’s not that bad,” Bruce says for the umpteenth time that evening.

“You’re bleeding!” Clark argues, just like he has for the past half hour. Why he’s even bothering trying to convince Bruce to slow down is a mystery even to him. The man’s stubborn and self-sacrificing and-

“I bleed all the time.” Bruce smiles like a proud toddler.

And slightly high on the painkillers he’s taken to be able to even stand up straight. Clark had to call Alfred down to help them out; there’s no way he’d been able to convince Bruce to grab the stronger pills if Alfred hadn’t helped him out. There’s something about the way Alfred looks at you that just makes you want to obey his every word. Which is why he’s always Clark’s backup plan when it comes to Bruce. Usually withholding and or offering sex is enough to bribe the vigilante to do just about anything Clark wants but tonight he’s being especially Batman-y.

“Don’t try to be funny, it’s not going to work,” Clark mutters.

“Why not? You think I’m hilarious,” Bruce counters and then nearly trips over his own feet, despite Clark holding most of his weight up.

“I think you’re hilarious when you haven’t lost a ton of blood and you can walk on your own,” Clark says as he grips Bruce’s waist a little tighter. He’s careful not to jostle the bandage around his ribs. If only Bruce would let Clark carry him probably but oh no, the big Bat of Gotham doesn’t need Superman’s help. Too bad this Batman is more fruit bat than anything else tonight.

“I can walk,” Bruce protests and takes a harsh step forward, nearly tilting the both of them over into the wall.

“Not if I want to keep your face this pretty.” There’s no way Alfred would’ve left the manor if he didn’t think Clark was capable of getting Bruce to his bedroom, with or without using a little extra force. It wouldn’t do either of them any good if he comes back to find Bruce sporting a black eye as well as bent ribs and lacerations on his torso.

“Aw, you think I’m pretty?” Bruce turns awkwardly in Clark’s grasp, grabbing at his collar and pushing himself closer.

“Gorgeous, Bruce,” Clark says and tries to keep them upright. “Now stop wiggling.”

“I’m not wiggling, I’m rearranging.” Bruce reaches for his collar again and Clark grabs his hand to keep it from wandering. “I can’t kiss you from this angle.”

“You shouldn’t kiss me at all right now.”

“You just called me pretty,” Bruce pouts.

“Yes, and I meant it,” Clark agrees easily. “But right now, I really need to get you to the bedroom, sweetheart.”

“Alright, okay,” Bruce says and stops moving around in Clark’s arms. It’s a much easier travel up the stairs and down the hallway now. “But you owe me.”

“Yes, yes, I’ll do whatever you want as soon as I get you to bed,” Clark promises as he finally gives up and just hovers above the floor. He’s careful not to bump either of their heads into any of the chandeliers and makes sure not to pull at Bruce too much.

“That’s more like it.” Bruce’s grin has a wolfish quality to it which either means that Clark is in big trouble or he’s going to be a very happy man. Any scenario that involves Bruce getting safely to his bedroom is one Clark will gladly take. He just hopes he can get them there without dropping Bruce on the floor.

 

***

He doesn’t drop Bruce on the floor – just barely. It’s a close call when Bruce wants to help open the bedroom door and just throws himself out of Clark’s arms. Thank God for superhuman reflexes. Clark makes sure to pick Bruce up properly after that. He walks to the bed and careful puts him down.

“There we go,” he says triumphantly. They made it.

“Now-” Bruce makes grabby hands towards Clark, pulling at every piece of clothing he can reach. Which isn’t much because Clark is still in his uniform.

Clark’s been a little too busy making sure Bruce didn’t die from his injuries to get changed. Alright, so he might be exaggerating but there was a lot of blood and Bruce is never honest about how much anything hurts. The man would shrug at a knife sticking out of his chest.

Bruce wraps a hand around Clark’s cape and tugs.

“Nu-uh,” Clark says. “One more thing.”

“You promised!” Bruce whines and then shuts his mouth promptly. Even he can probably hear how childish he’s sounding at this point but that doesn’t stop him from pouting adorably. Painkillers must be working.

“And I’m not going back on that promise, don’t worry, but we messed up the bandage and I need to fix it, alright?” Clark says patiently. Bruce always needs an extra minute when he’s taken these pills. He’s more relaxed but his mind is slower (although it’s still faster than the average human’s in Clark’s opinion). It’s the main reason he doesn’t want to take them.

“Fine,” Bruce finally says and crosses his arms over his chest. His nose scrunches up when he moves, like he’s trying not to show how painful it is. “But hurry up.”

It’s the blink of an eye – okay, maybe two – and then Clark is back in the bedroom. He carefully unwraps Bruce’s chest and frowns at the many scars. He knows he can’t do anything to change the past, but he still feels bad looking at proof of how often Bruce has been hurt.

“Some scars are not that bad,” Bruce tells him like he can read his mind. They know each other so well that Clark wouldn’t be surprised if Bruce can just see straight through his head at this point.

“I know,” Clark says and gently runs a finger over the long vertical scar under Bruce’s chest. “But some are though, which is why I need to make sure these won’t add any more to your collection, okay?”

“Wrap away, doc,” Bruce holds his arms out so Clark can get to work.

The upside to knowing Bruce this well and getting to take care of him like this is that Clark knows how to wrap just about any part of Bruce’s body perfectly. Alfred’s taught him a lot over the years and Bruce even more. Clark makes quick work of the new bandage and disposes of the old one. Now all he has to do is make sure Bruce stays still enough that he won’t pop open a stitch or ruin the bandage again.

Easier said than done.

As soon as Clark has secured the bandage, Bruce reaches forward and this time he’s close enough that he gets a good handful of Clark’s collar. He tugs until they’re face to face and Clark isn’t made of stone. He goes willingly when Bruce stretches his neck up to bring their lips together.

God, he’s missed this.

No matter how many times he gets to kiss Bruce, he’ll never get tired of it. It’s like coming home after a long day and sinking into a hot bath. He could kiss Bruce every single second of every single day if only life would let him. When Bruce’s lips part and his tongue pokes out, Clark can’t help but follow the movement with his own. He cups Bruce’s jaw gently with one hand, enjoying the slight stubble scratching at his skin. Bruce sucks on his tongue and Clark pushes closer.

When Bruce starts pulling him down onto the bed Clark reluctantly pulls back.

“You’re hurt,” he says even as his mind (and other parts) scream at him to shut the hell up.

“I’m going to be if you don’t touch me,” Bruce says and pulls at him again. He knows very well that he can’t make Clark go anywhere if he doesn’t allow it but that doesn’t stop him from trying.

“I am touching you,” Clark says and rubs a thumb across Bruce’s cheek.

“Not like that, jeez,” Bruce says with an eyeroll. “I just want to kiss you, c’mere.”

“Just a kiss?” Clark asks although he knows better.

“Just a kiss,” Bruce agrees.

It’s not just a kiss. Of course, it’s not just a kiss. Clark knows this and yet he reaches out to hold Bruce’s face with both hands, kissing his temple, then his nose and finally his lips. He kisses the corner, the cupid’s bow and Bruce’s full bottom lip before licking into his mouth. Bruce’s mouth is so hot, and he kisses like he’s trying to swallow Clark whole. Like he never wants them to part.

Clark can relate to that. He does however have to pull back once again when Bruce starts falling back on the bed, trying to drag Clark with him. Bruce makes a face – one of those rare I’m-in-pain faces – when they part and he’s still only sitting up halfway. Clark brings a hand around his back to get him upright again.

“You promised,” Clark reminds him. He’s got a really hard time remembering why that promise is so important, but only until he looks down at Bruce’s torso. He may want to devour Bruce like a fine meal, but he can’t bear the thought of causing him more pain.

“I lied,” Bruce says easily. He’s back to smiling now which is a good sign but not good enough that Clark is ready to risk it.

“Bruce, I- I can’t,” he says. “Not when you’re hurt.”

“Clark, come one,” Bruce whines. “I haven’t seen you in a week, I want you so bad.”

“I want you too, you know that.” Oh, but he doesn’t know how bad. Being apart from Bruce is always tough, but an entire week? Clark is quite literally falling apart at the seams over here. He’s barely holding it together and Bruce is so willing and so warm and so soft and- Clark shakes his head to focus.

“Doesn’t feel like it when you keep rejecting me,” Bruce says, pout firmly back on his face. He knows what that face does to Clark and he’s doing it on purpose, the little shit.

“I’m not rejecting you, come on, B, I just don’t want you to be in pain,” Clark reasons. They’ve had this exact argument so many times that Clark isn’t even sure why he bothers anymore. It’s the principle of the thing at this point, really.

“I’m not in pain,” Bruce argues.

“Not yet maybe,” Clark retorts. It’s not like they practice BDSM but they’re both strong men of a certain size. They have had their fair share of bruises (well, Bruce has) and limping around. On any other day that might be fine – that might even be the goal after several rounds – but now tonight. Tonight, Clark needs to make sure Bruce is alright and safe. Hopefully spending the rest of the evening in Clark’s arms.

“You’re not going to hurt me,” Bruce says with a roll of his eyes. It’s the same talk they had the first time Clark topped; so what if he was a little nervous about leaving marks on Bruce’s body? It’s not exactly something everybody disregards like it’s nothing. But then again, Bruce isn’t everybody.

“You know how we get,” Clark says, trying to sound stern. He’s very much fighting a losing battle here. Even he’s starting to wonder why he’s even arguing. “Maybe we should wait.”

“Clark, please.” Bruce reaches out for him again but winces when he moves too fast. He looks angry for a short second – at himself, at his body for betraying him.

“See? I can’t have you moving around.”

“I won’t lift a single finger,” Bruce says instantly. Something sinister flashes across his face and he smiles innocently as he continues: “I’ll be good.”

Good boy echoes through Clark’s mind and short circuits it for a full three seconds. He knows what those words do to Bruce and for him to tease Clark like this? He’s really desperate. It’s not like Clark isn’t either. They’ve been apart all week and then this mission ruined their dinner plans. Or well, sort of dinner. More likely they would’ve ended up right here for hours before going anywhere near food. It’s kind of their thing.

“Please?” Bruce presses again. All that’s left is for him to- ah, never mind, he’s already biting at that delicious bottom lip of his.

“God, you know I can’t resist when you beg,” Clark groans.

“It’s not really begging yet but if this is enough for you, I’ll gladly keep saying please,” Bruce says with a wink.

“You always do,” Clark counters.  

“Hey,” Bruce pouts. “No need to tease.”

“I’m sorry, baby,” Clark says, and that one word makes it clear that Bruce has won. Clark never calls him baby outside of the bedroom; outside of moments like these. Neither of them does really, unless Bruce is playing his Brucie role at some event and he avoids the word as much as possible these days. Ever since they got together. It’s their word now; Bruce knows Clark likes being the only one he calls baby and vice versa. “How about I make it up to you?”

“That’s more like it.” Bruce grins hungrily. It’s nice to see him this eager, although he’s never lacked anything in that department since they started seeing each other.

“I don’t want you moving around though,” Clark says.

“No, no, I won’t,” Bruce is quick to reassure. He even holds him hands up in surrender, like that’s going to convince Clark he’s cooperating.

“Do I need to tie you up for you to keep your promise?”

There’s a short pause where Bruce considers it. It’s not the first time they’ve used ropes in the bedroom, but usually Clark is the one tied up, because… well, because he enjoys it. A lot. “No,” Bruce finally says.

“Alright.” Clark nods. “What do you want me to do?”

“Anything you want.” The answer is clear as day and out Bruce’s mouth before Clark has even asked his question.

“Anything?”

“Anything,” Bruce agrees.

“Alright,” Clark smiles. He knows exactly what he wants. “Lie back then.”

Bruce hurries to comply. He doesn’t have to move much to be able to lie down comfortably, legs still mostly over the edge of the bed. He lifts his hips up helpfully when Clark reaches for his waistband. He’s barely been wearing the sweats for fifteen minutes but getting him out of the cave naked wasn’t really something Clark was willing to do, even if the house is empty at the moment. You never know with the bat kids.

Clark pulls the pants gently but quickly off Bruce’s legs so that he can relax his hips again. The flexing of his abs – although devastatingly gorgeous and a true sign of how strong and agile Bruce is – pulls at the newly dressed wounds and Clark doesn’t want him to be in pain. Well. Any more pain would be more precise. There’s no way Bruce’s side isn’t throbbing right now. Perhaps Clark can make something else throb enough that Bruce won’t notice too much.

Clark peels his own suit off without care, throwing it on the floor before kneeling next to the bed. Usually, he would’ve put on more of a show but that’ll have to wait. He really needs his hands on Bruce. Right now.

“Are you going to make some room for me?” Clark asks even as he reaches for Bruce’s thighs himself. There’s no way he’s letting him move more than absolutely necessary. At least this way he can monitor his physical wellbeing without putting any stress on Bruce’s injury. It’s also an easy excuse for Clark to worship Bruce’s body without him running away or hiding. Even snarky comments are few and far between when Clark has his head buried between Bruce’s legs.

Clark doesn’t need to worry about Bruce though; his movements are careful although a bit jerky, almost desperate as he scrambles to brace his feet on the bed and spread his legs wide to accommodate Clark’s broad shoulders. He lets one knee fall to the side with a gentle push from Clark’s hand.

Clark slides his hands underneath Bruce’s thighs, over his ass just for good measure and then around to grab firmly at his hips. This way Bruce is entirely at his mercy; just the way they both like it.

Clark has no idea which one of them enjoys this more, but he has a sneaking suspicion that while Bruce loves it, Clark is the one who yearns for it. He loves having Bruce lay down and spread his legs, so eager and impatient; already so wet just from thinking about what Clark is about to do to him.

The first time they did this Bruce was tense and embarrassed, like every single part of Bruce doesn’t turn Clark on so much he can barely think straight, much less about anything that isn’t that tight, wet heat between Bruce’s legs. He would spend the rest of his life between Bruce’s legs if it were possible for either of them. The way Bruce will tighten his thighs around Clark’s head; no longer afraid to accidentally hurt him. How he’ll push himself up, press himself to Clark’s mouth, to feel more of his tongue and lips. Bruce’s body is often more honest than he is, although he’s starting to let go more these days. Clark feels it in the way he grabs at his shoulders, his hair, everything he can reach just to feel Clark more, feel him closer. How he’ll hold him close after, run his fingers through Clark’s hair and whisper softly into his skin. How he wraps himself around Clark after but also during their lovemaking, like he doesn’t ever want to let him go. Bruce is so passionate, so sensitive.

And his taste, oh God, his taste… Clark has never tasted anything like it. It’s sweet in a way that candy isn’t, it’s fresh like a fruit, soft like silk and fills Clark’s mouth with rich flavor, so delicious that he could drink nothing else for the rest of his life. He starts salivating just by thinking about it.

“Come on,” Bruce mutters with a jerk of his hips and knocks Clark out of his own thoughts.

“Impatient, are we?” Clark chuckles.

“About to have our head popped like a watermelon, are we?” Bruce mocks, squeezing his thighs around Clark’s head briefly to emphasize his point.

“If I didn’t already know you could actually that, I might’ve asked you to prove it.”

“Another time,” Bruce says and wiggles around a bit. “We have more important things to d-” and that’s as far as he gets before Clark’s mouth is on him.

Clark likes to take his time pleasuring Bruce no matter how they do this. It’s his favorite past time; seeing how long it takes before Bruce is a sobbing, begging mess beneath – or above – him. He’s usually much gentler, slowly teasing and licking his way to where Bruce wants him, but today… today he’s just as impatient as Bruce is. He’s just better at hiding it. At least until he’s inches away from Bruce’s cunt.

Clark licks a stripe up the sensitive skin, using his hand to hold Bruce open to his vicious attack. His tongue is coated in Bruce’s slick and Clark moans as he bites gently at Bruce’s inner thigh. He wants to bury his face in Bruce’s heat, lick and bite at him until he comes, again and again and again.

“You’re so wet already,” Clark whispers against his skin, awe clear in his voice. He’ll never tire of this, he’ll never tire of Bruce and how passionate he is, how he fists his hands in the sheets like he can’t quite keep them to himself. How he clenches around nothing, like he wants Clark to fill him up.

“Oh God,” Bruce breathes.

Clark pushes one of Bruce’s legs back against his torso, sliding his hand up to wrap under his knee. He squeezes the flesh gently as he sucks a bruise into Bruce’s thigh. He teases at Bruce’s entrance with his free hand, watching, mesmerized as Bruce clenches and unclenches, wetness spreading all the way down to his ass. If he’d had the time, the patience, Clark might’ve filled Bruce up in both holes, watched him squirm and beg and cry, but his own cock is throbbing against his underwear.

Bruce is arching his back off the bed slightly; like he’s trying to be careful, to move as little as possible like he promised, but he can’t quite make himself stay still.

“Yes, yes,” he mutters as Clark peppers kisses all over his thighs. His stomach twitches as he tries to push himself closer to Clark’s mouth.

Clark takes the hint and licks into him, wanting to taste as much as he can of Bruce. Two fingers join his tongue and Clark revels at how wet Bruce is. He could probably slide right into him without any more prep than this and the thought has Clark clench his own thighs together. God, he’s so hard.

“There,” Bruce gasps when Clark tongues over his clit briefly. “No, back, back,” he whines, and Clark’s stomach is doing summersaults at the sounds he’s emitting.

He’s not one to deny Bruce what he wants, despite wanting to spend much more time just licking at his salty skin. He presses two fingers into him just as he wraps his lips around Bruce’s clit, sucking gently.

Bruce keens. His back arches properly off the bed this time, his thighs shaking as he tries to keep them from closing around Clark’s head.

Clark moves his attention to where his fingers are buried deep in Bruce’s heat and licks around them, pushing his tongue teasingly in beside them.

“Clark, oh God, yes, yes,” Bruce pants. “More, you gotta- more.”

Clark twists his fingers, pushing them even further into Bruce before removing them completely. He’s quick to replace them with his tongue, pressing insistently until he can lick inside Bruce again.

Bruce struggles to sit up, hissing as the movement pulls at his stitches. Clark lifts his head up just an inch to speak.

“No, no,” Bruce objects before Clark even has the chance to say something. “No, I just- I need to- I can’t reach, I have to touch you.”

Clark is pretty sure he knows what Bruce wants but the angle is wrong and they’re not in the right position to do it. That’s never stopped Bruce before, and it isn’t going to stop him today.

“Please, I just have to-” Bruce mutters as he grabs Clark’s hair gently. He rocks his hips up, almost riding his face with the force of his thrusts. “God, I love you.”

It might be the painkillers or maybe just the fact that they haven’t seen each other all week but Bruce is very talkative tonight. He isn’t usually quiet, far from it, but he’s very loud and Clark enjoys the way he grabs at his neck, pushing his face into his cunt. He would serve Bruce like this for hours if he’d let him.

While he did promise not to lift a finger, Clark is willing to let Bruce slide on this one. Mostly because he’s too busy moaning into Bruce’s skin to be able to protest. Bruce has pushed himself to the edge of the bed and wrapped his thighs around Clark’s head, pushing and pulling at Clark’s hair to get him where he wants.

Clark closes his eyes and lets Bruce ride his face as fast and as hard as he wants to. He licks and sucks and moans, trying to keep up with the rough pace Bruce has set.

“Yes, yes, yes, right there, don’t stop,” Bruce groans, like he isn’t the one controlling Clark’s movements with the hand in his hair. “Oh God, if you stop, I’ll kill you.”

Death threats aren’t new to their relationship, not by a long shot, and every time Bruce moans brokenly like this, like he really will die if Clark stops mouthing at his pussy, it has heat boil at the bottom of his spine. Shit, he’s so close already and he hasn’t even touched himself.

“Please, Clark, God. I need you,” Bruce whines. “I need you, I need more, I can’t-”

At this point it’s more sounds than words spilling over Bruce’s lips and his hips are moving erratically. Clark worries that he’ll pull something and in a smooth movement he pushes Bruce back on the bed, grabbing the back of his thighs as he goes.

He pushes three fingers into Bruce, using a tad of superspeed to make Bruce feel the vibrations through his entire body as he sucks hard at his clit. He’s relentless, never letting Bruce catch his breath as he fucks him with his fingers.

“Yes, yes, yes,” Bruce is sobbing, clenching so hard around his fingers that he might’ve cut off circulation if Clark was a regular man. It only spurs Clark on, wanting to make Bruce come, to hear his voice when he reaches climax.

Clark’s cock throbs and if he didn’t know any better, he would say the tingling at the base of his spine was the first sign of his own orgasm approaching. He grabs Bruce tighter, moves his fingers faster.

“I’m- close, I’m close,” Bruce moans, his body jerking and twisting beautifully under Clark’s hands.

Clark pushes his fingers as deep inside Bruce as he can and presses up. Bruce nearly wails and this time both his ass and his back arch off the bed as his legs shake and his cunt throbs around Clark’s fingers. The clit underneath his tongue is swollen and oh so delicious; Clark keeps licking at it as Bruce comes around his fingers, squeezing so tightly.

Kal,” Bruce’s broken voice calls and Clark nearly startles as he feels himself start to come. He presses his face against Bruce’s thigh, moaning quietly as his dick twitches in his boxers. He can’t help himself when Bruce calls his name – his proper name – so brokenly, so beautifully.

Bruce has barely caught his breath before he pushes himself upright again. He’s still throbbing slightly when Clark withdraws his fingers carefully. His own orgasm crashed over him so suddenly that he’s having a hard time thinking about anything but the warmth on his hand and the come now cooling in his underwear. Bruce’s cheeks are flushed, his hair a mess and his lips are bitten so thoroughly that they look red and swollen. They match his other set with the way they glisten from spit.

“My turn,” Bruce says breathlessly. He doesn’t sound like he even registers the pain of his wounds anymore.

Clark blushes when he finally realizes what Bruce is talking about. He sits back on his haunches and stutters out: “Oh, no, that’s-”

“Come on, baby, I can still suck you off, I’m not going to-” Bruce is getting ready to argue his way into a blowjob but there really is no need because apparently just the sight of Bruce coming apart was enough.

“No, um,” Clark mumbles. “You- there’s no need, I’m already-”

“Oh.” Bruce finally stares at his very visibly wet crotch, eyes wide. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Clark answers despite Bruce’s statement not needing an answer. He feels vaguely embarrassed. It’s been at least a decade since he came without any sort of stimulation. At least when with someone else.

“Shit, that is-”

Clark flushes as he looks down on the floor. Humiliating. A turn-off. Pathetic. Laughable. He knows Bruce would never be intentionally cruel, but this isn’t exactly something to be proud of.

“-so hot,” Bruce finishes and he looks like a kid on Christmas morning with his wide eyes and open mouth. He can’t seem to take his eyes off Clark’s crotch.

“What?”

“You find me that hot, baby?” Bruce is crawling to the edge of the bed as he basically purrs the words. “Do I turn you on so much?”

Clark flushes an even darker shade of red, but this time it isn’t from embarrassment. Bruce thinks it’s hot how attracted to him Clark is. There is absolutely no way he’s going to be ashamed if this is Bruce’s reaction.

Yes,” he says, putting every ounce of conviction into that one word, because by God… He really does. Bruce is the single most gorgeous and sexy man Clark has ever come across; will ever come across, Clark is sure of it.

“How long until you can go again?” Bruce asks, eyes finally searching out Clark’s. He reaches out to run a hand through Clark’s hair, wrapping it gently around his neck.

“How long will that bandage hold up?” Clark asks in turn.

“At least another hour,” Bruce says confidently after sparing the aforementioned bandage a glance.

“Another round then?” Clark suggests. He will never pass up an opportunity to make Bruce come and he needs maybe 90 seconds to get rock hard again, if that. Bruce already knows this, but even Batman can have moments of selfish desire.

Please,” Bruce grins and pulls him in for a kiss.