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Bruce doesn’t consider himself a sex addict.
Really, he doesn’t.
It’s just that vigilante life is stressful. And sure, punching bad guys can relieve some of it in the moment but…
Well to put it bluntly, getting eaten out just does so much more.
And it was a well known fact (at least to Bruce) that no one ate ass quite like Clark Kent did.
It was another equally well known fact that Clark was one of the only people on this earth that could over power Bruce in the way that he craved.
Which leads us to now, as Bruce tries very hard not to fidget in his seat around the Justice League meeting table, as his mind is racing a million miles a minute.
Bruce had been unavoidably tense all week. He had six currently unsolved cases sitting on the desk in the cave, and those were just the ones he was investigating for the league.
He hadn’t been sleeping well either, not that he usually did but he hadn’t even been making his usual four hours, too wound up with responsibility to find it in himself to close his eyes and rest.
Now Bruce had been in this situation numerous times in the past. Too many cases, not enough sleep. And in the past he used to have to be pushed to his breaking point before he was able to reset and try again.
Recently though, he had discovered a way to reset his stress levels before he was sent over the metaphorical edge. And this unconventional way came in the form of one Clark Kent, aka Superman.
Who was currently in the middle of a report on meta crime rates in Metropolis city, wearing his skin tight suit and speaking in his low voice that carried hints of a Kansas drawl, thoroughly doing everything in his stupid power to distract Bruce from the discussion at hand.
“…and while casualties have been seeing a low rate lately, the same can’t be said for robbery and theft. If anything its sky-rocketed-“
Bruce was listening. He was. He just also happened to be staring fixedly at way Clark’s bicep flexed with gesture of his hand, and thinking about all the way that arm could pin him to a mattress with a super strength that would leave Bruce no way of escaping.
His stomach experienced a momentary dip, like when you’re in a car and drive over a little hill.
Bruce hoped this meeting wrapped itself up soon.
-
Thirty long and agonizing minutes later, the meeting was finally drawing to a close. Bruce was almost sick with anticipation and nerves about what he was about to ask for. Sure, Clark and he had already done this a couple of times, but Bruce hadn’t quite yet shaken the anxiety that whispered that Clark was going to laugh in his face.
Everyone was filing out and Bruce was quick to grab Clark and start pulling him in the opposite direction of everyone else.
“Bruce, what’re you-“
“Come on,” Bruce’s mouth was dry as he ignored Clark’s attempt at a question as he began to guide them deeper into the halls of the watchtower and towards the dorms.
Clark remained blessedly silent as he easily kept pace with what seemed to be a frantic Bruce Wayne, until they were safely inside Bruce’s extremely soundproofed room.
Clark began to open his mouth in question once more when Bruce beat him to the punch.
“I need you to have sex with me, like the last couple times.”
Clark was stunned for all of a second before he let out a quick and genuine laugh, flashing all of his extremely white teeth in Bruce’s direction.
Bruce felt shame course through him. Of course, he was a fucking idiot. Of course Clark was laughing at him. Why did Bruce just assume-
“Your forwardness is one of your most endearing qualities sometimes Bruce. But yes, of course, would you like to now?”
Oh. Okay. Bruce might’ve began his internal self hatred spiral a little too early there. He licked his lips and tried to speak, lost his voice, and tried again.
“Yes.”
Clark huffed a laugh again, eyes shining in amusement. “Alright, I’m down.”
They both stood there staring at the other, Bruce with an unexplainably nervous and anticipatory energy and Clark with all the confidence in the world.
He smiled again, “Well? We gonna do this with your 50 pounds of plated armor on? I’m game but seems like it’d be a bit uncomfortable for you.”
Bruce wanted to hit himself as he quickly started removing plates of body armor, tossing them haphazardly onto the floor in a rush. He could feel his earlier arousal start to come back with a vengeance as Clark only leaned back and watched appraisingly.
When Bruce stood there in nothing but his boxer-briefs Clark shifted. “You’re so beautiful baby.”
And oh. So they were doing pet names now. Bruce was reluctant to admit how it went straight to his cock.
“Are we doing this or not?” He asked a pit petulantly. Clark was still fully clothed and Bruce was trying not to analyze why the imbalance was turning him on so much.
Instead of answering, Clark, in a blink of an eye, had his suit off and Bruce on the full sized bed, underwear torn off, hands pinned above him and with a knee shoved between his legs and against his leaking cock. He moaned and tried in vain to not immediately grind on Clark’s thigh.
“What do you want Bruce?” Clark had begun trailing his nose lazily up and own the column of Bruce’s throat. “You have to tell me you want sweetheart.”
Dear god, maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.
“I-“ he stopped, licked his lips once again. “I don’t know.” His nerves wouldn’t let him ask.
“Lie,” Clark hummed, beginning to leave soft kisses that made Bruce suppress small gasps. “I can hear your heartbeat remember? Now tell me what you want darling, don’t be embarrassed, I’ll give you anything you ask for.”
Bruce couldn’t help but whine softly at the words as shame made him unable to speak his want.
“Bruuuuce,” Clark sang softly from right text to his ear, “say it sweetheart.” He tightened his hold on Bruce’s captive wrists minutely.
Better to just bite the bullet. “I want your tongue.”
“Oh?” Clark quirked a mocking brow. “And want would you like my tongue for baby? There’s so many different things I could do with it, you have to be specific.”
Frustration was building in Bruce as he tried again to get relief by rubbing his cock against the thigh between his legs. “You know what,” he glared and tried to even his breathing lest he begin to pant in need.
Clark’s smirk was infuriating. “I’m afraid I don’t,” he teased as he moved his leg just out of reach of Bruce’s needy cock.
“Clark please!” Great, he had resorted to begging.
“Say it Bruce.”
“Fuck,” Bruce gasped, cheeks reddening in pure mortification at what he was about to say.
“I want your tongue in me, in my hole. I want you to eat me out.” Speaking the words into existence flooded Bruce with shame and he closed his eyes and grit his teeth at the way his hips gave an involuntarily thrust and met nothing but air.
“That’s all you had to say baby.” Bruce was miffed to hear the smile in Clark’s deep voice.
Clark was fast. He let Bruce’s wrists go and soon had his hands behind Bruce’s knees, holding them up and open.
“Look at you sweetheart, all red and needy,” Bruce flinched as Clark dove down and quickly licked a strip up Bruce’s cock.
“Unh,” he grunted, “Clark please.”
“Alright, alright, someones impatient.” Clark maneuvered again to where Bruce was holding one of his own legs open and Clark held the other.
“Ready?”
This time Bruce growled a little. “Clark.”
Clark dove in.
Bruce had been expecting a slow teasing, this isn’t what he got immediately.
Clark licked a long and hard line over Bruce’s hole before shoving his tongue in as far as it could go with Bruce still a tight as he was. Then he wriggled.
“Fuck!” Bruce cried.
Clark pulled out and did it again, and again, and again.
Bruce was sweating, chest heaving.
Clark changed tactics. He began to circle the ring of muscle slowly with his tongue, gently coaxing it to relax, then he began to lick into Bruce with vigor. Kitten licks at first, enough to have Bruce holding his breath, but then larger ones. Harder ones.
Bruce could only pant as he listened to the obscenely wet noises of Clark licking into him. Licking into his wet, needy hole.
With a few more deeper licks and swirls of his tongue, Clark pulled away, but not for air.
“Do you like that baby?” His eyes were dark and there was spit from his nose to his chin, Bruce could only throw his head back and moan. “Do you like it when I have my tongue in you?” The quick insert of a finger had Bruce gasping. “Do you like it when I lick into you slowly? Nice and deep, laving at your needy walls.”
“Please-“ Bruce whined, so close to the edge, what with Clarks words and the almost 15 minutes of rimming he had just received.
Clark uncharacteristically listened with Bruce’s first plea and resumed his licking into Bruce’s hole. Bruce saw stars as he began to suck too. Fastening his lip tightly around Bruce’s rim, tongue still deep in him as he began a steady suction, pausing only to slurp and try again.
Bruce was positively writhing, the only thing keeping him remotely still as he just about sobbed in pleasure was Clark’s tight hold on his legs keeping him spread and open for this devouring.
During this, Bruce’s hole had been steadily loosening, allowing Clark’s artful tongue deeper and deeper until-
There.
Bruce screamed. Clark had hit his prostate dead on, and wouldn’t relent as he circled the little bud with the tip of his tongue over and over again. Rubbing over it, pressing on it, all as he continued to suck and slurp at Bruce’s walls.
Bruce hadn’t even had the presence of mind to grab his own cock before his eyes were rolling into the back of his head and he let out some awful sound of pleasure between a whine and a moan as he came. Long and hard, ropes of cum painting his clenched abdomen as Clark continued his endeavor to find out just what Bruce’s insides tasted like.
Clark licked him through his entire orgasm and then some. Through the after shudders and until Bruce was whining and trying to shove him out of his sensitive hole with weak and orgasm loose arms.
Clark finally relented and pulled back to watch as Bruce panted, chest heaving.
His voice was soft as he moved up the bed, turning Bruce into his arms, laying Bruce’s head on his chest and hiking one of Bruce’s legs over his hip. “You alright darling?”
Bruce didn’t have words left, not that he ever had much to begin with, so he just turned his face into Clarks chest and grunted, closing his eyes.
He fell asleep, Clark’s fingers in his hair.
He got a wonderful 6 hours that night.