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The Way a Saint Parts His Mouth

Chapter 3: First Light

Summary:

Whoops, soft morning smut AND more kink negotiation...kinda. It's more like a dirty bucket list.

Chapter Text

Clark awoke slowly. Bruce was still there, so tangled up in him that they were nearly one person. A ray of early sunlight had crept around the curtain and lay across Bruce’s closed eyes like a golden mask. He resisted the urge to kiss the dawnlit cheekbones, knowing that Bruce would surely wake. Clark wanted very few things more than to kiss his boyfriend, but one of those few things was for his boyfriend to get a decent amount of sleep. He tried his best to settle back under the covers as unobtrusively as possible, gently letting his head tilt onto Bruce’s shoulder.

 

Clark didn’t exactly doze, almost meditated. It was something he did often, and found it nearly as restful as sleep, while allowing him to monitor his surroundings. This time, he mostly listened to Bruce’s heartbeat. For a long while it was slow and steady, the resting beat of a sleeping man, then it gradually sped up as Bruce began to wake, ultimately landing on the familiar pace Clark knew. Bruce shifted and then Clark heard his heartbeat kick up quite fast.

 

“Bruce?” He asked, shifting onto his elbows and looking at his lover. Bruce’s eyes were open, and he was staring at Clark. “Is everything alright?”

 

Bruce rolled on top of Clark and kissed him. “You’re even more beautiful in daylight,” he whispered. His voice was rough, first thing in the morning and Clark felt his cock stir against his thigh. Their legs were so interlocked Bruce noticed as well and smiled into another kiss. “Something interesting?”

 

“You,” Clark muttered, burying his blushing face against Bruce’s neck. Always you .  

 

Bruce nudged his thigh against Clark, chuckling darkly as Clark groaned. He separated from him, then, much to Clark’s chagrin, sitting up and rolling his shoulders. 

 

“I love you,” Clark said, letting his head settle on the blankets in Bruce’s lap.

 

“I love you too,” Bruce said fondly. Then, “Clark, you know I…you know I can be bad at saying what I’m feeling.”

 

“You? Never.”

 

“Hush, I’m being serious. It’s easier for me like this, just us two. And then in bed…it’s part of it, for me. I can let go and shower my partners, shower you in praise in a way that just never comes naturally to me usually.”

 

“That’s alright, love,” Clark began, but Bruce placed a tender hand against his cheek, gazing down at him with such incredible love.

 

“Clark, I promise I mean everything I say in bed, how lovely and beautiful, how sweet and good, they’re all things I think about you, have thought for a long time. And soon the real world will catch us up, and we’ll be a reporter and a billionaire and a vigilante and a superhero and everything else. And I probably won’t tell you as much as I feel it, but I love you.”

 

“I don’t need you to shower me in words, Bruce. Words are my job. I mean, here, in bed, yes, I love that you let the praise flow, love that you let yourself talk. But I didn’t fall in love with a poet, I fell in love with Batman, one of the most silent and reserved men on the planet, and I love that about you too. So long as you tell me once in a while, and every now and again look at me like you are now, I’ll never doubt.”

 

Bruce pulled Clark’s mouth to his for a sloppy and heartfelt kiss. It was all mouth and morning breath and a couple accidental clicks of their teeth from the strange angle and it was perfect. Clark scrambled eagerly to straddle Bruce, getting a better angle to hold him and tangle his fingers in his bedhead. 

 

“Can you…can we?”

 

“Anything,” Bruce moaned. 

 

Clark shoved the blankets off them and—

 

And stopped in his tracks. 

 

Bruce always had some bruises on him. It was part of him, almost as expected as freckles or beauty marks. On his hip, though, bloomed a new one, a barely-there shadow in blue, just the size and shape of Clark’s hand. Unthinkingly, Clark brought his hand to that mark, seeing the perfect fit as his eyes welled up with tears. He brought his hand away quickly, shuffling back. 

 

Bruce caught his wrists, brow furrowed. “Darling, what’s wrong?”

 

“I hurt you,” Clark whispered.  

 

Bruce followed Clark’s gaze and his eyes creased with unexpected mirth. “Sweetheart,” he said, kissing the bridge of Clark’s nose and then the furrow of his brow. “Lovely, sweet gentle darling, I have had human partners bruise me darker.”

 

“But I lost control.”

 

“I know, I put a lot of effort into making you lose control.” Bruce curled his arms around Clark, drawing him back into a tight hug. “I made you cum until you fainted, darling, and that is the most you did to me. And I know why.”

 

Clark let his hand flicker down, resting feather light on the bruise. “Why?”

 

“Because you were Clark long before you were superman. It isn’t about controlling your powers, gentle is your default, your superstrength takes at least a little focus.”

 

Bruce was right. He usually was.

 

“I didn’t hurt you?”

 

“I didn’t even notice until you looked so distraught.” Bruce placed a tender kiss behind Clark’s ear. “Now, we were doing something…?”

 

Clark nodded against Bruce’s neck. “Cuddly morning sex?”

 

“Cuddly morning sex,” Bruce agreed, and Clark could feel his smile where it pressed against his forehead. Bruce’s hands trailed down Clark’s shoulders, feeling across his skin, pressing into the dip of his spine and then grabbing his ass.

 

“Mmh, breakfast, I’m starving,” Bruce said, grinning lewdly and pulling back enough to wiggle his eyebrows suggestively at Clark, who laughed and kissed the tip of his nose. With a level of strength and dexterity that had Clark moaning loudly, Bruce pulled his legs under him, kneeling on the bed with Clark suddenly tipped back against the sheets, thighs wrapped around Bruce’s hips. The position was wonderfully reminiscent of the night before and the thought made Clark squirm. 

 

Bruce trailed his fingers down to Clark’s hole. “This what you want, love?”

 

“Yes,” Clark said, smiling up at Bruce. 

 

“And you feel okay there? Not too sore?”

 

“I’m not, Bruce, I’m indestructible, remember? Even your massive cock can’t damage me.”

 

Bruce chuckled, nipping lightly at Clark’s hip. “Careful, you’ll stroke my ego.”

 

“Not what I’d rather be stroking,” Clark said as Bruce retrieved the bottle of lube. Clark was tight again, as though last night hadn’t happened, and the thought dimmed his smile just a little. Still, the feeling of Bruce pressing kisses to his face while those perfect hands worked him open slowly more than made up for it. 

 

Clark tangled his fingers in Bruce’s hair, skimming kisses across his hairline and stroking the tiny hints of silver starting to appear as Bruce eased him open. He only had two fingers in when Clark started pleading.

 

“C’mon Bruce, please, don’t make me wait, wanna have you, love, want you in me.”

 

“I’ve not got you open yet, darling.”

 

“Open enough, can’t hurt me, please Bruce, want to have you.”

 

Bruce removed his fingers and bent to kiss Clark. “Always have all of me, darling. Are you sure you’ll be alright?”

 

“Yes, love. Please?”

 

Bruce kissed his agreement onto Clark’s pulse point as he spread lube over his cock until it dripped off his fingers, cold and wet against Clark’s hip. Clark giggled, nudging Bruce in the ribs with his knee. Bruce smirked and intentionally smeared some more lube across Clark’s chest. He dragged his sticky, wet hands down Clark’s sides, digging in to tickle Clark across his hips and ribs, before he finally wrapped his hands on Clark’s thighs. Bruce thrust in gently. Like before, he sunk in inch by inch, but unlike before Clark was patient. He relaxed into it, letting it be beautiful and slow. 

 

The lance of sunlight from earlier had crept around the room and was laying in a wide splash across Bruce’s chest, lighting him in gold. He was too beautiful to resist, and Clark reached up for him. Bruce followed him down easily, barely holding himself up so that they lay together as closely as possible. Bruce dropped his forehead to Clark’s shoulder, moaning as he finally bottomed out. Clark held him, clutching his shoulders and whimpering words of utter devotion into his ear. 

 

Bruce began to move, gentle rolls of his hips dragging his cock slowly over that perfect spot inside of Clark. He smoothed a hand over Clark’s thigh and pulled it around his hip, perfecting the angle and sweetening it with a kiss. Clark’s hand came up to cup his cheek, feeling the early morning stubble against his fingers. Bruce turned his head and kissed the pads of Clark’s fingers, then the palm of his hand, then the bone of his wrist. He dipped further, pressing his lips to Clarks forearm, then bicep, then his shoulder and then back to his lips. 

 

Clark felt lazily for the bottle of lube, getting a little on his fingers and then stroking his cock, making sure to match his strokes to Bruce’s steady rhythm. It was lovely, not lovelier than anything last night, but equally so, if in entirely different ways. 

 

“Love, I’m–” Clark whispered.

 

“Me too.”

Clark’s back arched, head falling back and eyelashes fluttering as he felt Bruce’s hips falter, driving in just a little bit harder, grinding against him as he painted his own chest and Bruce filled him up, planting kisses above Clark’s heart and moaning as he did. 

 

When Bruce finally pulled out Clark whined a little at the loss. Bruce smiled at him, brushing a fingertip along the top of his cheekbone. 

 

“Sorry, sweetheart, got to get us cleaned up, want to join me in the shower?”

 

“Morning sex and showering together? A boy could get used to this,” Clark said, easing himself up on only very slightly unsteady legs.

 

“I’m going to make sure of it,” Bruce said, pulling Clark into the ensuite and the huge rainshower that they had neglected in favor of the tub last night. It had a shower bench, a very practical consideration, since Bruce got injured in the field so much. Today, however, they ignored it in favor of standing close under the fall of the water. 

 

They helped eachother wash up, Bruce carefully making sure the soap wasn’t overwhelming for Clark’s senses. Clark let a sad little whine leave his lips as Bruce carefully cleaned the cum from him, washing away where it had leaked down his thighs. 

 

As ever, Bruce read him like a book. 

 

“Another time, gorgeous, I’ll buy you the prettiest plug and fill you with my cum.”

 

Ooh, the voice was back. 

 

“Please.” 

 

“Oh darling,” Bruce said, “I’d make sure you loved it, I’d keep you nice and full, only pull the plug out to fill you more. Wouldn’t need lube, just spread my cum down my cock and push right back in.”

 

Clark was going to get hard again if Bruce didn’t stop running his mouth like that. 

 

“And when I've filled you all up, darling, I’ll pin your hips to my face and eat my cum out of you until you beg me to stop.”

 

Clark groaned, letting his head fall onto Bruce’s shoulder. “If you keep talking I won’t be begging you to stop,” he warned.

 

“Mmh, that’s sort of the plan,” Bruce said. He sat on the shower bench and pulled Clark with him. The water still fell over them and Bruce held out the bottle of shampoo for Clark’s approval. It was good, smelled like Bruce and wasn’t too strong. Bruce rubbed it into Clark’s hair, getting it into every curl, massaging his scalp in a way that made him feel sleepy and warm. 

 

“I’m glad you liked the sweet, slow sex too,” Bruce whispered. “I’ll admit, it’s rarely been to my tastes, but then, I wasn’t with you. Why have loving sex without…without the love.”

 

“I love everything you give me,” Clark said, eyes closed, feeling Bruce’s expert hands in his hair. “And I love how sweet you can be, only for me.”

 

“You don’t just like sweet, though,” Bruce said, kissing the nape of Clark’s neck which must surely taste of shampoo. 

 

“You know I don’t. I like how dangerous you sounded last night, Bruce. Your eyes were so wild and you’re so fucking strong . Loved being at your mercy. You’re so good , Bruce, seeing you be greedy just does something to me.”

 

Bruce bit the nape of his neck, then began gently rinsing the shampoo from Clark’s hair, cupping a hand on his forehead to keep it from running into his eyes. “What if I wasn’t good? If I were a villain?”

 

“There is no world in which you could be…well, you and be a villain, Bruce. Your goodness is in everything you are,” Clark said, leaning against his lover.

 

“But what if I wasn’t?” Bruce said in Clark’s ear, his voice low and gravelly. 

 

“Are you being self deprecating or sexy?” Clark asked. His cock certainly had an opinion on the matter. 

 

“What if I was dangerous, Clark, would you like that? Pretending I was some villain who had you at his mercy? If I had any at all.”

 

Clark groaned, curling inward a little at how hard he’d gotten all at once. Bruce chuckled in his ear. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

 

“I’ve met Matches, you know,” Clark said, letting Bruce begin adding conditioner even as his cock pulsed with want. 

 

“Matches isn’t a proper villain…although he could be a fun game to play too.”

 

“That’s true, he’s more of a dirty fuck in an alleyway. A bad boy, rather than a bad man.” That had Bruce groaning and his hands tightening in Clark’s hair. 

 

Clark turned to Bruce, interrupting the hair washing, and kissed his collarbone, then picked a spot and nibbled, sucking just a bit until a tiny bruise formed. 

 

“I like all your ideas for games,” he said, rubbing his thumb over the tiny hickey. “I seem to remember something about fucking me in the bathroom at The Velvet Prince, too.”

 

“That one’s more of a promise,” Bruce said. “I’m going to take you back there so often I might as well buy the place.”

 

The thought had Clark smiling as Bruce resumed his hair duties. Clark picked up the shampoo and began to return the favor. 

 

“You marked me,” Bruce said, eyes twinkling. “Bruised me on purpose.”

 

“A hickey hardly counts,” Clark sniffed. “Really barely left a mark.”

 

“You could leave more. I’m Brucie Wayne after all, hickeys peeking from under my collar are what I’m all about.”

 

Clark took the invitation for what it was, sucking a blue and purple bruise just under Bruce’s jaw, licking at his pulse and feeling it race. He bit, letting teeth sink in just a tiny bit, just enough that any photographer would have proof that Brucie Wayne had a new toy, and this one was possessive. 

 

“Pretty like that,” Clark said, admiring his work, soothing the abused skin with gentle strokes of his fingers. “I wish…” he trailed off. There was only one way Bruce could bruise him like that, and Clark was sure he wouldn’t approve of the suggestion.

 

“We could,” Bruce said. “If you wanted, only if you felt safe, Clark. Blue kryptonite, of course, I couldn’t bring the green near you, not unless…”

 

Not unless it was absolutely necessary, not unless Bruce knew that if Clark were in his right mind he’d do it himself. 

 

Clark kissed him. “You mean you really would?”

 

“Blue kryptonite? If you wanted. We know it only takes your powers, goes away as soon as you’re away from it.”

 

“I want it,” Clark said, heartfelt. “Not all the time but…at least a taste? You’d really do that, for me?”

 

Bruce bit Clark’s shoulder, letting the conditioner rinse from his hair. “I would love to , would love to mark you, baby, have you really feel it, tie you up and really have you feel how sweet helplessness can be.”

 

Clark whimpered, hips twitching a little. He tried to focus on rinsing the shampoo from Bruce’s hair. “Sure you didn’t imagine that when I asked you to keep the kryptonite safe?” Clark teased.

 

To his surprise, Bruce blushed. It wasn’t the full red flush that tended to afflict Clark, but rather a tiny dusting of pink across the tips of his ears and tops of his cheekbones that couldn’t quite be attributed to the warmth of the shower. 

 

“You did?” Clark asked, grinning and tugging teasingly at Bruce’s hair. 

 

“I swear to God, Clark it wasn’t…it wasn’t on purpose,” Bruce whined. “I was already madly in love with you at that point and having you under me was a favorite fantasy and then you asked about the kryptonite, asked me to secure it and of course I said yes. Then, once in a while, my mind…it wandered Clark, I’m so sorry.”

 

Clark laughed, kissing Bruce and pouring conditioner in his hair. “You haven’t got anything to be sorry for, love. I know fantasies sometimes come from unexpected places.”

 

“Oh? Any you care to share?”

 

Clark rubbed the conditioner in, squirming a little and feeling his blush sink all the way to his chest. “Well, I did mention Matches…”

 

“You jerked off to Matches?” Bruce asked, half laughing, half disbelieving. 

 

“Oh yeah, lots. You called me Doll , Bruce, I didn’t have any other way to deal with that. What was I supposed to do?”

 

“Fuck, I could have had you back then,” Bruce groaned, hands coming up to help with his hair. “Bet I could have taken you in that dirty little alleyway. You were dressed in those nerdy khakis, I remember. You had fucking suspenders on like some sort of hot teacher fantasy.”

 

Clark helped rinse the last of the conditioner out of Bruce’s hair. “You get it all now, Bruce, every fantasy.”

 

“And you would really be okay with turning off your powers? Really? Not just because you want to please me?”

 

Clark whined, taking his hard and leaking cock in his hand. “So okay. Wanted to ask, but I didn’t think you’d be on board.”

 

“I am so on board,” Bruce ground out. He was hard too, and Clark crowded forward, wrapping his hand around the both of them, feeling the friction. 

 

“I want more of this villain fantasy, darling, tell me about that?”

 

“God yes, you want that? Want to be at my mercy?”

 

“Please,” Clark panted mouthing at Bruce’s wet skin.”

 

“What sort of villain do you picture, baby? A tough bruiser? Somebody Luther-esque?”

 

Clark shook his head, half kneeling on the shower bench so he could hold their cocks better. “Someone elegant, almost a bond villain. You don’t need big guns or something to be intimidating,it’s just you. Maybe one of your suits.” 

 

“Oh I see,” Bruce said, wrapping his hand around them too, swiping his thumb across the heads of their cocks making Clark whine. “Some pretty reporter falls right into my trap, maybe a lead brought you a little too close and I decide enough is enough. Tie you up real tight…”

 

Clark whined, moving his hand faster. He was so close, could feel Bruce getting close too.

 

“I’ll make you a pretty little necklace, baby. Just a tiny bead of blue kryptonite in the middle, put it around your throat so I can bite hickeys all over you. Leave bitemarks everywhere your clothes cover, maybe a couple places they don’t.”

 

Clark gasped, seeing sparks behind his eyes. “Bruce.”

 

“Go on, baby, I’m coming too.”

 

Bruce pulled him in for a bruising kiss as they came across Clark’s hand, Bruce’s gripping Clark’s hip as he came. Clark brought his hand up and licked the cum away before the water could take it, loving the ragged breath Bruce drew in at the sight. 

 

When at last they excited the shower and dressed (Clark in borrowed clothes because his still lay in shreds on the floor) Clark grinned like the cat that got the cream. He leaned into Bruce as they walked down to breakfast, not able to summon a single ounce of shame as Alfred raised an eyebrow at them. 

 

“A restful night, I presume,” he said, pouring coffee. 

 

“I have simply never felt so refreshed,” Bruce said, pecking Clark’s cheek. 

 

Alfred scoffed and rolled his eyes at their antics, but Clark saw the approving squeeze to Bruce’s shoulder, and felt the warmth when a matching one was bestowed on him. 

 

“My legion of hellions will be down as soon as they smell coffee,” Bruce reminded him gently. 

 

“They’re hardly a legion, there’s only, what, nine of them?”

 

“It will feel like a legion as they interrogate me.”

 

“Shouldn’t they be doing that to me? The traditional shovel talk, and all that?” Clark asked as he added cream to his coffee, watching Bruce add a concerning amount of sugar to his.

 

“They’ve been begging me to date you for years,” Bruce said simply. “You seem to have a way with my kids.”

 

“Like father, like children, I’m sure,” Clark said, smiling.

 

“You’re terribly sweet,” Bruce said. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to bear it.” He heaped more sugar into his coffee and Clark smiled.

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