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Thanagarians were not known to be particularly friendly people, frequently combative and excessively domineering in negotiations with the Justice League. Their representative, Shayera Hol, also known as Hawkgirl, served on the League’s council, a core member of the group and a staunch advocate for offensive strategies that Clark usually thought to be too intense. Nevertheless, she was incredibly valuable, and he considered her a good friend. That was why he was selected to go to Thanagar with her, Green Lantern, Wonder Woman, and Batman. The interaction was to be with the planet’s main leader, Hro Talak, concerning a potential alliance between the League and the planet. Good warriors were always in short supply for large, intergalactic villains like Darkseid. In exchange, the League would produce Hro information pertaining to their people, mainly through Hawkgirl and her husband, Hawkman. It was supposed to be only with Hro and his closest advisors. Instead, a gaggle of people were in the room, centered around a long table. Clark couldn’t tell who was who, except for Hro, who sat at the head of the table. His wings were halfway open, making him look more imposing than he was. That energy was where negotiations started.
Diana spoke first, “Thank you for seeing us, your Highness. We appreciate you meeting with us.”
He waved his hand, “Sure. Get to your point quickly.”
Sheesh, not friendly at all. Clearing her throat, “We believe we can be of service to you regarding information on potential threats to your society. We’ve obtained information that inhabitants on Rann are preparing for a war with you. Were you planning on invading?”
Hro gave a short laugh. “Well, we always thought about conquering them. Wouldn’t be hard, they’re not advanced in combat.” After a beat, he added, “But no. We’re not.”
His baritone rang out clearly through the room, and it always tickled Clark’s ears slightly. “The League regularly interacts with Rann’s government. We’d be willing to harbor an alliance between the two of you, if you’re willing to pledge your services for invasions within the galaxy.”
An advisor Clark didn’t get the name of said, clear, “What use could you have for Thanagarians, Batman? Aren’t you all soldiers in your own right?”
“Powerful opposition exists that would require more manpower. You have one of the best military forces we’ve ever encountered.”
Shayera corrected him, “The best.”
A woman cloaked in a red hood looked skeptical. “You want our men in exchange for information? Sounds like a weak trade.”
Trying again, Diana used a diplomatic voice, “Additionally, if Thanagar were to ever come under threat, the League would do its best to defend your people. While respecting your autonomy, and our values as a team.”
Hro leaned forward, “And what values would those be?”
Hal joked, leaning back in his chair, “Y’know. Goodness, world peace, free exchange of information. The normal things.”
“Those ‘normal’ things you speak of might not serve Thanagar’s interests.” The first advisor’s tone was harsh and biting.
Clark chimed in, “We can’t promise you anything other than information, but our word is law. We will come when you call.”
Their king leaned to the side of his chair, head supported by his arm. “Sweeten the pot, and we’ll consider it.”
Confused, Diana questioned, “What else would you like in this trade?”
Another woman spoke, presumably a sage of some kind, “Traditionally, our alliances are sealed by marriage.”
Bruce very quickly retorted, “That’s archaic.”
She returned with venom. “Do not speak ill of our rituals if you intend on using us.”
Jumping in, Diana held up a hand. “We don’t mean to insult you. That practice has phased out of Earth practices for quite a while.”
Hro gestured to a woman sitting to Clark’s left, “My daughter is looking for a suitor.” The woman smiled with a seductive edge, immediately making Clark uncomfortable. Her eyes were trained on him as her father spoke, “Your strongest man would do nicely for her.”
His tone of voice was the gravel, dead serious kind that he only used when he was reinforcing his strength. “It’s out of the question.” The League had yet to find out about Bruce and Clark’s romance, but regardless the members knew that an arranged marriage was not the way they’d like for this to go down. Clark could only imagine what was going through Bruce’s head, and every option sounded worse than the last.
The young woman leaned over and touched Clark’s arm. “They call you Superman, don’t they?”
“Uh, yes. They do.”
Looking to her father, “This one seems strong.”
Hro looked to Diana, eyebrow quirked up slightly. “So?”
Clark could feel Bruce’s intense gaze on him, no doubt angry. He was a bit too shocked by her touch to move her, but she took that as an invitation to move out of her seat to stand over Clark and hold the side of his face. She was sultry, “Our offspring would be quite the warriors.”
Diana attempted to subdue the advance, knowing Clark was not the best at these things. “Our friend would not be suitable for her.”
The king looked a little offended, “She’s a fierce fighter, skilled in every type of combat our people know. You say you want a champion. I’m handing you one.”
Tension spiked in the room, all members of the League at a loss for words. Somebody say something please. Hal ended up breaking the silence. “He’s…” He looked to Clark and indicated with his eyes that he had to answer for himself.
Looking at Hro, he stuttered, “I-I’m sort of—“ He laughed nervously, “Sorry. She’s lovely, but—“ The woman moved his head to look her in the eyes. Clark gulped, unsure how to get out of this.
Gesturing to his daughter once more, “At least spend a night here with her. I assure you, she would not disappoint.” What does that mean?!
Hal tiptoed into the conversation, “I don’t think we could spare him for a night. Big mission plans, right, Batman?”
His posture was rigid and his eyes were daggers on Hro. “We don’t trade with lives. If this is a deal-breaker, we need to reassess.”
Eyes sharp and brows furrowed, Hro bit it out of his mouth. “Fine. Return when you’re willing to offer something important to our people.”
Clark was not escaping her grasp fast enough, and the woman leaned down to kiss him. Startled, he immediately pushed her away as soon as their lips touched. She cooed, “Think about it, Superman.” Sauntering away, she disappeared into the caverns of the building.
The five of them rose from the table to go to the zeta-beam. As soon as they got out of earshot, Diana spoke low, “Shayera, why didn’t you tell us this was customary?”
She shrugged, “Honestly, I didn’t think they would actually suggest it. I guess Hro’s desperate to get his Kora out of his castle.” Punching Clark’s arm playfully, she smirked, “At least you got something from it.”
His face was aflame, sweat beading at his temple. Tentatively, “Yeah.” Bruce was walking next to him, and Clark was trying to gauge how badly that had gone for him, but he refused to look anywhere but forward. Speaking to the whole group, “Thanks for getting me out of it.”
Diana placed a hand on his shoulder, “We would never marry you off without your explicit consent.”
Turning back to her, “You would marry me off?”
She laughed, “Not for an alliance, but if you met someone off world, you could.”
This conversation was only getting worse, Hal’s big mouth pushing it further. “Hey, man, she was hot. Maybe take her for a spin.”
Clark very quickly raised his hands, waving, “I don’t want that! I don’t— No, Hal. You do it, if you like her so much.”
“Aw, c’mon man, you know I got Carol.” He sounded half disappointed.
They got to the zeta-beam and Bruce put in the coordinates for the Watchtower. Standing outside of the beam, he finally spoke, “I need to update this strategy and see what other leverage we have. Add details into the case file on the Watchtower and contact me once it’s done.”
Clark’s voice was a little higher than normal, “You’re not coming with us?”
Without making eye contact, Bruce pushed the last number and hovered over the button to send them. “No.” Pressing the button, Clark didn’t get a chance to say anything else.
Soon, they materialized in the Watchtower, all of them stepping out quickly. Hal walked away fast, “Not-it.”
Shayera moved with speed too, “Not-it.”
Diana sighed, “I’ll update the file.” She walked towards the computer, shoulders sagging slightly. “Bye, Clark.”
He called after her, “Bye!” Very quickly, he walked to his private quarters and closed the door. Switching to their private line on his comm, he spoke incredibly careful, “Bruce? Are you—“
Answering before he could say anything else, his voice was an infuriating neutral that Clark knew was code for his anger. “What?”
“I’m sorry, I panicked, she just—“
Clipped, “Fine.” Oh, I’m really screwed.
His anxiety was squeezing his throat and making his voice sound higher than it was. “It was nothing, and they don’t know—“
“Stop.” Every excuse died in his throat.
Clark took a breath, “Can I come over? I’ll make it up to you.”
The line was silent for a moment. He began to chew the inside of his lip, skin buzzing. “Fine.”
Exhaling softly, he pressed, “When should I—“
Cold and devoid, Bruce stated, “The boys leave for patrol in three hours.”
He tried to make his voice sound even, “Okay, I’ll come then.” He didn’t say goodbye, knowing that the words would not be returned regardless.
Three hours passed like three days, Clark running to the store to grab flowers and then driving as fast as he could to Gotham. He would’ve flown, but he was pretty sure he’d ruin the flowers with the wind. Pulling up, he grabbed the bouquet and walked towards the secret entrance to the Cave. Floating in after being out of eyesight, he found Bruce sitting at the computer in civilian clothes. He looked like a vision, a perfectly tailored dress shirt draped over his features and accentuating his build. Bruce didn’t turn to look at him when he arrived, although Clark figured he knew he was there. Approaching with soft footsteps, he tentatively spoke, “Hi, B.” The keyboard clacked as he typed his notes, the planet of Thanagar displayed on the screen. He didn’t acknowledge him for a full minute, finishing his thought and then turning around with his arms crossed. His shoulders were squared and his stance neutral. Icy eyes pierced into Clark’s skin, their perceptive nature making Clark even more nervous. He walked forward, arm outstretched to hand him the flowers. Bruce took them and carelessly tossed them onto the desk, returning his hands to his armpits with crossed arms. “Look, I’m sorry, I was in shock—“
The ice in his voice matched his eyes. “You didn’t even try to push her off.”
Trying an excuse, “I didn’t want to be rude—“
“Oh, rude? Right, sure. Not because you found her attractive.”
Clark’s hands were up in front of him, “I don’t! She’s whatever, I just didn’t want to be abrasive to their princess.”
Bruce’s eyebrows lowered slightly, “You’re a bad liar. You even let her kiss you.”
“What was I supposed to do?” He was genuinely asking as he had no clue what the better course of action would’ve been.
He took a few steps to him, “Remove her hands from your face. Push her back, which you didn’t do until after she kissed you. Just be honest, you wanted it.”
Loud and full of desperation, Clark raised his voice. “I panicked! I’m sorry, I promise I don’t want her, I wasn’t looking at her that way.”
Bruce was only six inches away from his face, breath ghosting over Clark’s skin. He was silent for a moment, assessing Clark’s face. Speaking low and dangerous, he said it smoothly, “Maybe I ought to punish you.”
Oh. Clark’s mouth went dry, gears turned in his head. “P-Punish me?” He came an inch closer. They’d only gotten so far in their relationship, all the kinks and fetishes not sorted out quite yet. But his tone of voice excited Clark, and he was deeply intrigued. “What…do you have in mind?”
Still flat, but less cold, “I’ve come up with a few contingency plans.”
Puzzled, “Contingency plans?”
“For when you defy orders. Or try to harm someone.” He walked to a door, a door that Clark had never noticed before.
Clark followed, still curious but now slightly offended. “I would never do that.”
He stood in front of the door, a biometric scanner on the outside recognizing Bruce’s handprint. “Can’t trust that. I needed to be sure.”
“You don’t trust—“ Bruce opened the door, “...me?” The inside of the room was dark, no light except for what came from the Cave. In the sliver, he could vaguely see cabinets on the walls, a leather chair, and a table with a sheet draped over it. A sink stood in the corner.
Bruce let him be confused longer, “I do this for everyone.” He paused, “Well, not everyone needs this much to subdue them, but I have plans for everyone in the Justice League.” He slipped inside the doorway, standing to the side while Clark tentatively walked inside. After he shut the door, he flicked on the lights, the whole room being washed with a bright red. Letting him adjust, he was smirking, “Notice anything different?”
A haze fell over Clark’s mind, and suddenly, he couldn’t hear Bruce’s heartbeat. He was immediately anxious, “Your heart—“
“Try to fly.” Doing as he was told, he tried to hover above the ground. Nothing happened, feet firmly on the cold granite. “Vision.”
The world stayed red and opaque, “Nothing.” Somewhat in shock, “You took away my powers.”
Nodding, he was clearly immune. “It wasn’t hard to dial in the right dosage of red sun radiation.” Walking over to a cabinet on the wall, “You should be careful who you tell your weaknesses to, Clark.”
Annoyed, “Well, I trust you. Unlike you.”
Bruce rummaging around the cabinet, “I trust you. I don’t trust the world. You could be manipulated by Poison Ivy, or any one with telepathic powers. I knew I might need it in the field, which is why I also made these.” He turned around, and in his hand laid two sets of cuffs, each one with a bead of the deadly green crystal in the center.
Thoroughly irritated, “I should be scolding you. Kryptonite? Seriously?”
He shook his head, “Only a little. Just helps take away your strength and regenerative powers.”
Clark leaned onto the table, and angrily said, “So, you made all these things in case you needed to kill me.”
He placed the cuffs on the table. “Subdue. Neutralize. Not kill.” Walking back to the door, he slid a deadbolt in place as well as punching a code in the wall. “No one knows about this room. Except for you and I.”
Knowing he was pouting, he sounded a little petulant. “Well, it’s still crazy to make something that could hurt your boyfriend.”
Bruce approached like a snake, eyes dark and focused. “It’s got more than one purpose.”
His face was angled to his feet, arms crossed. “Yeah? What else?”
Getting close to Clark’s ear, Bruce smoothed out, “Why don’t you look at the rest of the room?”
He glared at Bruce, “Is there more stuff to kill me?”
Breathing against the shell of his ear, “No. Take a look.”
Clark pushed himself off the table and opened the first oblong cabinet in front of him. His eyes widened. Crop. Switch. He opened the one next to it to find slightly iridescent ropes and chains hung carefully on posts, wrapped in bundles. Then, he went to the next. Underneath the space where the cuffs were meant to lie, multiple gags were displayed, as well as small clamps connected to chains with small amounts of Kryptonite in the bead. He shut the doors, and he hoped that Bruce couldn’t see how red his face was given the lighting. “You…”
He rested his fingers in Clark’s belt loops. Pulling towards him, “See anything you like?” Clark was speechless, his mouth hanging open and jaw working. Bruce was so careful with his words that Clark felt dizzy. “If this is too much—“
“No! I just… It’s new. I’ve only seen this in p—“ Don’t say that. “—um, videos.”
Bruce held his chin while he looked in his eyes. There was a devious smile on his face, “And did you enjoy watching them?”
Talking about sex so explicitly was…not normally how Clark operated. Whatever level of intimacy this was, he was walking into the belly of it. He was searching for the right way to say it, but instead just blurted out, “Yes.”
As much as Clark was trying to focus, Bruce visually was incredibly distracting, and his eyes kept dropping to his lips. He picked up on it, “Eyes up here.” Clark obeyed. “Do you imagine having those things done do you?” It took him a second but Clark nodded slowly. His voice was low, “I can give you that, Clark. Anything.”
He blinked, then swallowed, “Anything?”
“Whatever’s in this room. Anything that’s not here, I’ll make or buy.”
Clark spoke slowly, “You know how to use all this?”
Bruce laughed, “Did you think that I picked up knots just for fun? Yes, I do.” Speaking a little more seriously, “Anything in here you don’t like?”
He was wracking his brain, trying to think of anything he wouldn’t want to try. “I don’t know. I like all of it.”
The richness in his baritone came out, “Good. Now this is important, Clark. You know what the stoplight system is?”
“Um, no.”
He sat Clark down and spread his legs so he could stand between them. “It’s very simple. If I ask you how you’re doing, you can say ‘green’ for good, ‘yellow’ for checking in, and ‘red’ to stop immediately. You can say any of those words at any time, with or without me asking, and I will listen. Okay?”
Clark’s eyes were still wide with disbelief, not really sure how he got here but gosh, did he want to be. “Okay.”
Bruce put his hands on Clark’s t-shirt. “Besides our normal pet names, what do you like to be called?”
He was salivating at the prospect of being called anything by Bruce. “I— Anything. Whatever you want.”
Letting his mouth hang open a little after, Bruce smoothed over the syllables, “Anything? You like being called a slut?”Clark was getting hard just from speaking so candidly, exhaling as he spoke. He noticed and hummed, “You do. Good. You can call me sir, or Mr. Wayne while we play.” His hands wandered under the t-shirt, feeling his abs and waist. “Do you have any questions before we start?”
Clark thought for a moment, trying to push through the heady feeling and focus on an answer. “N-No.” His eyes were wide, staring at Bruce with a salivating mouth.
Smirking, “Alright.” He spoke low, “Why don’t you be a good boy and take off your clothes for me?” He took a step back and let Clark rise from the table.
Nervously, he stumbled over the words, “Yes, sir.” Bruce hummed, pleased by his immediate obedience. Clark set his glasses on a side table, pulled his shirt off in a smooth motion, and folded it. Doing the same with his pants, he slid off his underwear and socks, putting his shoes underneath the table. While he was undressing, he heard Bruce pick up the cuffs and move to the cabinet with the ropes, a chain jingling. Clark stood there, half hard already and hands anxiously twitching at his sides, unsure how to act.
Bruce turned back around to him, chains and cuffs in hand. His tone was commanding and firm, there was absolutely no room for discussion. “Get on the table, face down.” The lack of autonomy made Clark’s stomach twist with desire.
Tentatively, Clark climbed onto the table, laying himself flat onto the surface. Bruce had been nice enough to put a pillow down for his face, Clark resting his chin on it and trying to watch him work. Walking to the front of the table, he grabbed Clark’s wrists and secured a cuff around each one. The chain rattled as he ran it through a ring on the side of the left cuff, latching it onto another ring on the side of the table and closing the loop with a clasp. He did the same to his right, leaving only a little wiggle room for Clark to move his arms. The kryptonite worked, Clark felt his body become weaker, as if he’d exerted a lot of energy and was exhausted. Bruce moved to his feet, restraining his ankles and connecting the cuffs to the table akin to his hands. Clark tested them, pulling at his restraints slightly and listening to the chains clank against the steel on the table. The room must’ve been soundproofed, because his voice didn’t echo as much as it should’ve. “They, um, work really well. I feel weighted down.”
Clark moved his head to try to watch him speak. “Thank you. Took a while to find the balance.” Another cabinet opened and Bruce pulled out a long rod with a pad of leather at the end. Approaching the table, “You know, I’ve wanted to do this for a long time.”
He hesitated, sounding a little weak, “You have?”
“I have.” Clark inhaled sharply as the leather touched the back of his thigh. He ran it gently along the length of his leg. “Ever since I saw you naked. I wanted to show you what I can do for you.” Gulping down spit, the crop moved to his ass and felt slightly cool to the touch. “I knew you’d never done this before. The idea of corrupting you…”
The instrument ran up his back, onto his shoulder. Clark felt himself getting harder, a sticky feeling accumulating under his left thigh. “Corrupting me?”
Bruce tapped the crop lightly onto his shoulder. It made a small slapping sound next to Clark’s ear. The words were coming out of his mouth like honey laced with poison, intent on seducing his mind. “There’s something so innocent about you. Pure.” He cracked the crop again, harder this time and somewhat painful. Smoothing the leather down to his back, “But you’ve thought about this before, haven’t you?”
He brought down the crop hard this time, a light whipping sound coming from the displaced air. It slapped onto Clark’s skin, and he let out a small breath. “Yes, sir, I-I have. I’ve even—“ Bruce crashed into his lower back, and he had to stop to let the pain radiate before speaking again. Embarrassed, his face turned red, “I’ve touched myself.”
Humming, “Not as innocent as I thought. Maybe there’s a slut inside you after all.” Clark moaned as another hit graced his skin, this time on his ass. Another one followed quick after it, and Clark’s body shook slightly as a reaction. “Tell me, Clark, who’d you imagine dominating you?”
“Nobody, just—“ He brought down the crop again, piercing his lie. “Y-You… The way you’re so—“ A loud crack on his thigh caused him to cry out, “—strong. I wanted you to.”
Bruce brought down the crop one more time, hard. Clark hoped desperately that he’d be able to see the marks, watch the bruises bloom on his skin. “It’s intoxicating seeing you this powerless.” Bruce walked to Clark’s head, lifting up his chin to look in his eyes. “You’re under my control.”
He nodded fast, mouth opening before he could think, “You can do whatever you want to me. Use me, do anything.”
Letting his chin drop back down onto the pillow, Bruce laughed cruelly. “I know I can.”
Bruce brought down the crop hard, Clark crying out from the painful pleasure. A particularly hard blow hit his ass and he struggled against his restraints. Before thinking better, he moaned, “Bruce…”
He slammed it into his skin, a loud slap on his right thigh. “Try again.”
“I—“ Matching the bruise on his other thigh, the crop made a ‘whoosh’ as it crashed into his skin. Almost yelling, “Mr. Wayne!”
Running his hand along the mark, which stung, Bruce cupped Clark’s ass and squeezed. “That’s a good boy.” His oxfords clicked against the granite floor as he walked to the cabinet. Clark breathed heavily, the pain made his skin buzz.
There was a rustling sound, Clark looking up as best as he could to see Bruce grab something with long leather tassels on the end. “What’s that, sir?”
The honorific made Bruce smile devilish, “It’s a flogger. You’ve never seen one?” He shook his head ‘no’, eyes wide. “It’s got a particularly wide range. And it leaves such pretty marks.” He turned back to the table and delicately laid the leather onto Clark’s skin. “Are you ready, baby?”
He was excited, and his cock twitched at the sight of him holding it. I really am a slut. “Yes, sir.” Bruce first slapped it lightly onto his back, the thuddy sensation running through Clark. He warmed up his skin, getting him used to the stimulation. Then hitting a little harder, Clark heard the air swing through the tassels. It landed with a loud sound, in between a clap and flick of a whip. The feeling immediately shot to his brain, his mind fogged with desire. Bruce brought it down again, this time truly using his strength. “Ah…”
Bruce stopped for a moment, resting the tassels on Clark’s back. “How does it feel, Clark?”
Inhaling sharply, it came out like a whimper, “So good. So good, Mr. Wayne.”
"Green?”
Clark nodded, “Green.” After the word came out of his mouth, Bruce cracked the flogger onto his back, the resulting feeling rushing over the large patch of skin targeted. He whined, and pulled at his restraints. He felt helpless, completely devoid of control. And it felt good, like all of the weight that was on his shoulders vanished, instead being replaced with pure pleasure. The sensation on his skin and the swirling pit of his stomach made him release more slick onto the table.
The puddle must’ve leaked out onto the cloth and left a wet spot, because he noticed. “Such a whore. You want this so bad.”
This time he caught the back of his left shoulder, the tendrils creeping over the edge and brushing the muscle next to his neck. With a moan, “Yes, sir. I— I need this.”The flogger displaced the air fast, and Bruce slammed into the center of Clark’s back. He cried out at the contact, and felt his mouth water. Pain was blooming through his system and his muscles tingled.
He used significant strength for the blow, it hit Clark’s back loudly. He whimpered in response. Bruce sounded amused, “You take it pretty well for your first time. I’m impressed, Clark.”
Trying to sound somewhat strong while the fuzz conquered his mind, “Thank you, Mr. Wayne.” The alternating praise and degradation made him feel special, worth the time and seen for what he truly was.
“Now, count out each strike I give you.”
Clark gasped, then swallowed. “Yes, sir.” He waited for the first blow. It landed in the center of his back, right on his spine. “One.” Another hit. He inhaled deep, “Two.” He was hitting the same spot, the skin now beginning to feel tender. Clark wondered how red he looked, if the marks looked like stripes. “Three.” The fourth came hard, and he pulled at the chains near his hands on instinct. “Four.” Somehow harder than the last, “Five! Gosh—“ He was not merciful. “Six.” The word came out as something between a cry and a whine, “Seven.” The last three came one after another with only a few seconds for him to say the number. “Eight. Nine. Ten!” He pushed his face into the pillow, face red and throat letting out a languid moan. “Mr. Wayne…” His brain was foggy, and he almost certain he’d come untouched at this rate.
He ran his fingers through Clark’s dark curls, “Good boy.” Tenderly, he rubbed the deeply red and irritated skin on his back. Clark hummed, praise going to his head and cock. Bruce put his tool back in the cabinet, then turned back to Clark. He began undoing his chains, then flipping the sides over. “Lay on your back.”
Clark turned over, the pain on his back now radiating through his spine and into his shoulders. It was getting hard to get out full sentences, but he tried. “It hurts.”
Bruce did his ankle restraints as well, the chains now resting correctly and a bit tighter than before. Clark’s wrists were pinned down completely, and he couldn’t move his legs. Taunting, “It’s supposed to hurt. Are you getting soft on me, Kent?”
He took a deep breath, letting the pleasure wash over him with the pain, endorphins running through him. “No, sir.” His cock was leaking still, a ridiculous amount of slick now dripping down his length. He wanted to be touched, desperately needed it. “Mr. Wayne, please…”
Standing over him, his eyes were dark and pupils dilated. “Please, what? Use your words.”
“Please, touch me.” Clark’s voice sounded pitiful to his own ears, and something about that made him even more desperate.
Bruce’s hand hovered over his chest. “You think you deserve it? After the stunt you pulled today?”
Shame rushed through him at the remembrance, simultaneously making his cock strain harder. “I— I don’t know.” Pleading more, “I just want you so bad. Please, please, Mr. Wayne… I need your touch.”
He moved his hand away from his body and Clark whimpered. He felt tears begin to threaten his eyes, the lack of stimulation driving him crazy. Bruce turned to the cabinet, and pulled out two clamps glowing green. Returning to his body, Bruce ran a single finger down from his neck to his sternum. “You sound pathetic, you know that? Begging like a dog at the table.” His finger moved to his left nipple and grazed the skin slightly. Immediately hardening at the touch, Clark sighed from the contact, deeply sensitive to the sensation. He circled it for a moment, flicking.
Clark nodded frantically, “I know I do, I’m sorry, sir. I just need you so bad, I always need you. You feel so good—“ Bruce moved to his right, making the nipple firm at the touch. He whimpered, “I know I don’t deserve it, but please, sir, I’ll do anything you want. Anything.”
Taking a clip from his other hand, he leaned down and licked the nub, causing Clark to sigh. Then, he carefully placed the clasp onto his nipple. The intense pressure immediately caused him cry out, something about the kryptonite must’ve made him even more vulnerable. Bruce did the same to his other, and Clark pulled against his restraints, back arched. He felt his slick leaking down his groin and pooling near his ass. Bruce placed his hand on Clark’s chest while he breathed heavily, “Just because you took my flogger so well, I’ll take pity on you.” Grazing the back of his hand down his torso, he delicately took Clark into his hand and spread himself down his length.
Clark was so sensitive that the mere action caused him to whine, “Thank you, sir. Oh gosh, Mr. Wayne, you feel so good.” He moaned, unrestrained and deeply grateful for the soundproofing.
He stroked him slowly, agonizingly slow that made every run of his cock explode pleasure through his gut. Mean, “You think that Thanagarian girl could make you feel like this?” Bruce applied more pressure when he reached the tip.
“No, no, sir.”
Moving a little faster, “You think anyone could make you feel like this? Reduce you to a whimpering mess?”
A tear slipped down his face, “No, sir, there’s nobody like you. Nobody can— I’m yours. I won’t let anyone touch me, no one gets to have me like you.”
Bruce hummed, “That’s a good slut.” Leaning down he licked a stripe up his cock, taking some of his slick onto his tongue.
Clark moaned, “You feel so good, sir. Thank you, sir…” Another loud moan. Bruce moved his hand faster and twisted his wrist. The heat that had been building in his gut since the moment he got on that table was blooming. Then, Bruce sank his mouth down fast onto him, taking him to the hilt. Screaming from the pleasure, “Mr. Wayne!” He bobbed his head steady on him, and he sucked in his cheeks when he reached the tip, tonguing his slit. Whining, “I— I’m close, sir.” Immediately, Bruce popped off his cock, wiped his mouth, and swallowed. Physically wracked by the loss of stimulation, “Wait, no, please—“
Cutting, “You come when I say you can.”
He whined, “But, please…”
Bruce leaned over him, arms on either side of his neck. “Gonna beg some more?”
Another tear came out of his eye, “Please, just a little more.”
Cold but with a mischievous and charming smile, he stated, “No.” He pushed himself off the table, standing to full height. Moving to his restraints, “I think it’s time to move you off the table.” He removed the chains from his wrists and ankles, but kept the cuffs on. Clark was breathing heavily, trying to calm down from being edged. He sat up with a heavy feeling in his mind and chest. This must be what it’s like to be drunk. Bruce helped him off the table and onto the leather chair, settling him with his arms behind his back and legs spread. He chained his restraints down onto rings bolted into the floors, then rose to look at him. Clark’s head lulled forward, still panting. Taking his hand, he grabbed Clark’s face and made him look at him. “Well, it looks like I’m turning you stupid.” Clark kept his head up as he removed his hand and started to undo his long sleeve dress shirt. He devoured his figure with his eyes as soon as the shirt was off, his scarred and bruised chest looking so beautiful. He looked so strong, capable, like Clark knew he was. He had released all control to him, and he knew he’d take care of him, even when he was mean. The heat in his gut was building back up, and his cock twitched looking at him. He began undoing his pants as well, and Clark saw evidence of his desire in the small wet spot that formed on his underwear. “And now, I’m going to use you.”
The word was almost slurred, “How?”
Bruce took off his underwear, and walked close to him. “Like my favorite toy.” He leaned down over him, Clark straining his head up to look him in the eyes. For the first time all night, Bruce pressed his lips to Clark’s, and the contact made Clark leak onto the chair and moan. As soon as Bruce opened his mouth, he ran his tongue inside and caressed his. He was pulling against his restraints, trying to connect as much of their bodies as possible instinctively. Bruce laid a hand on his shoulder to lean him back into the chair. The touch was electric to Clark, and he shivered from the contact. He broke them apart by pushing Clark all the way back onto the backrest. Reaching behind him, he pulled out a plug and sighed from the loss.
He moaned watching him, wishing he could’ve done it himself. “Mr. Wayne, please. Please touch me again.”
Standing over him with his legs outside of Clark’s, he smirked, “So fucking eager. Didn’t know you’d be this much of a whore when I met you.”
His cock twitched at the degradation, he pleaded, “Only for you, just you, sir. Nobody else gets me, like you said. I’ll be a good boy.”
He ran a hand down Clark’s cheek, “Yes, you will.” Slowly, he sat down, grabbing his cock and lining himself up.
As soon as he sunk down, Clark cried out from contact. The envelopment of him squeezed his cock slightly, and the pressure was already building in his system. “You’re— You’re tight.”
Bruce sighed once he got all ten inches in. “You’re just big.” He started the torturous movement, riding him, the sensation making Clark’s brain fuzz over completely. He bucked his hips to meet him and slap their skin together. “God, you want it so bad.”
He whined, “All I want. It’s all I want.” Bruce put his hands back on Clark’s face and brought their lips together again. He was so excited to be kissed that he was sloppy, mouth watering at the taste of his spit. Moaning against him, they only broke apart because Bruce threw his head back. Straining, Clark went to his neck, lavishing it with his tongue and savoring the salt on his skin. He was pulling against his cuffs, and could feel them leaving ligature marks on his wrists. The pain only made him more turned on. Speaking on his skin, “Mr. Wayne, you feel so good. Thank you, thank you, sir.”
Possessive and dark, “You’re mine, Clark. I’m the only one who can make you feel this way.”
“Yes, sir, you’re the only one.”He grabbed his neck, putting a good amount of pressure to the sides and causing Clark to moan. Air was being restricted to his brain, making the heady feeling already in him ten times better. Choked, “Yours, sir.”
Riding him faster, he kissed him, “That’s my good boy. So good for your owner.”
Tears were falling freely down Clark’s face, the overwhelming pleasure and stimulation genuinely cloaked his senses. Bruce removed his hand and Clark gasped for air. Whimpering, he kept repeating, “Yours.” White hot lust ripped through Clark’s body. He begged, “Can I please come for you? Please, sir.”
Bruce moaned loudly, the sound making Clark throb inside of him. Leaning down into his ear, he purred, “Yes, you can. Come for me, baby.” His permission was all that was needed. Slamming into Bruce, he cried as he came, thick ropes coating his tight heat. Hands in his hair, “That’s right, that’s my good boy. Come for me, fill me up.”
He choked in a breath as he fucked through his release, “It’s all for you. Everything’s for you.”
Clark was about to slow down when Bruce commanded, “No, not yet. My turn.”
The overstimulation coursed through his veins, “Mr. Wayne, please, use me.” Bruce was ramming Clark into himself hard, Clark keeping up as best he could.
“God, your cock is amazing.” He felt himself brushing past a nub inside of him, and Bruce angled himself to hit it better. Leaned down, he kissed Clark again, hard. Throwing his head back, “I’m almost there…”
Clark was openly weeping, “P-Please, sir, I can’t—“
It came out as a growl from his chest, “Fuck, I’m coming, fuck—“ His release sprayed onto Clark’s chest, painting it a ghostly white and making his skin feel warm. Clark moaned at the sensation of Bruce spasming around him, making it even tighter. A low whine, “God, yes, fuck, you’re so good, so good for me.” He didn’t stop riding him until he was completely spent, falling onto Clark’s lips while breathing heavily. They moved their mouths against each other fluidly, both alight with their collective energy. Clark’s instinct was to hold him, but instead his chain rattled as he pulled on them. After five minutes, they broke apart, catching their breath. Bruce wrapped his arms around Clark, kissing his face sweetly, “So good, Clark.”
He kissed the tracks of his tears down his cheeks, and Clark smiled weakly. Bruce’s hand pieced through his curls, holding the back of Clark’s head. He could barely think, only a thick haze existed in his mind that made him moan softly. Small, “Sir?”
“Yes, baby.”
Sounding feeble, “Can we lay down?”
Saccharine, “Of course, sweetheart.” Bruce stood, carefully taking Clark out of him. The lack of pressure made Clark exhale quickly. “Hold on, let me help you.” Bruce went behind the chair and took off his restraints, his wrists sore and bruised as he brought them to his front. Once he was free, Bruce grabbed his hands gently and led him to the table. He sat, mind still fuzzy and eyes unfocused. “Come on, lay down, Clark.” Doing as he was told, his head hit the pillow softly. Bruce removed the clips from his nipples, setting them inside their resting place. Clark’s eyes were closed, but he could hear water running. A warm towel was pressed to his groin, Bruce cleaning him with care. His voice was soft, “Are you cold?”
Clark nodded, turning to his side and looking at him. Bruce opened another cabinet and removed a plush gray blanket. He scooted over to make room for Bruce, the man climbing up next to him and covering them with the blanket. Instinctively, Clark wrapped his arms around Bruce and pulled him in close. Bruce returned his embrace, kissing his skin and face. Eyes closed once more, “This is nice.”
Placing another kiss to his forehead, he praised, “You did so good. You’re perfect.”
He hummed, “Thank you, sir.”
Bruce chuckled, “You don’t have to call me that anymore. We finished playing.”
He shoved his face into the crook of his neck, inhaling Bruce’s scent. “Bruce…”
“Yes?” He kissed his forehead again.
Clark kissed his neck, “This is nice.”
Wrapping a hand around him and playing with his hair again, “You said that already.”
He mumbled, “I can’t think of anything to say.”
Close to his face, he cooed, “Don’t say anything. Just let the feeling wash over you.” He did, keeping his eyes closed and existing somewhere between consciousness and unconsciousness. His skin was warm, buzzing pleasantly, and he felt peaceful. Behind his eyes, colors bloomed softly and radiated the same way the lingering pain did. Heaven. It feels like heaven. It took 20 minutes, but eventually, Clark came back to the real world. Blinking open his eyes, he focused on Bruce’s face, whose eyes were closed. He’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.
Clark kissed him slow, the man returning the embrace by lifting his hand to Clark’s face. Searching his eyes, he elongated the syllable, apparently still a little silly, “Hi.”
He smiled small, “Hi. You feeling okay?”
Nodding, “Yeah. Hungry.”
“We can go upstairs and have Alfred make us something. It can take a lot out of you.” His thumb was rubbing Clark’s cheek gently. “How do you feel about everything we just did?”
Blush crept up his cheeks, once again embarrassed to talk about things so straightforward. “I liked it, a lot.”
Smiling wider, he kissed his lips once more, innocently. “Good. Anything you’d want to change?”
He shook his head. “My stamina, maybe. After all that teasing…”
“You were perfect, baby. Promise.” Another kiss. When he pulled back, “Do you think you can stand?”
Clark sat up slowly, “Yeah, I’m okay.” He looked around the room, “Is there a mirror? I want to see my back.”
Bruce hopped off the table and walked to a floor-to-ceiling length cabinet. Inside the door hung a mirror and two robes. Clark got up too, and padded over. His back had large, dark red marks, even some bruising on the back of his thighs. “Like my handiwork?”
The sight was so erotic to him that he felt a rush of desire go to his groin. “It’s so… Will it stay?”
He closed the door, “As soon as you’re in the sun again, you’ll heal. Even once I turn off these lights, they’ll start to fade.”
Humming, “Pity.” He walked back to Bruce, wrapping his arms around him. Smiling, he kissed his cheek, “I’ve got an overwhelming urge to say something stupid right now.”
Knowing but not saying, “You’ve got a lot of oxytocin and endorphins in your brain right now. It’ll wear off.”
“I don’t think it will.” Bruce knows it won’t. He said it playfully, “So, do you believe me when I say it’s just you, now?”
Bruce released himself from his grasp, grabbed his clothes, and began redressing. “You could’ve pushed her off you.”
Rolling his eyes, “Oh my gosh, come on, Bruce. You’re the only one I want.”
There was a beat of silence, Bruce buttoning his shirt. He sighed, “I guess, I got…”
Clark pulled his t-shirt over his head, “Jealous?” He smirked at him.
Scowling, he shut it down, “Look, it was improper.”
Teasing him, he stepped into his jeans. “You got jealous. Admit it.”
His tone was venomous, but Clark knew it was just a defense mechanism. “I don’t get jealous.”
Clark laughed, “Clearly you do.” He walked over to Bruce again after slipping on his shoes. As he zipped himself into his suit pants, Clark laid his hands on his waist. “You’re possessive over me.” His two inches over him was working to his advantage. Bruce couldn’t meet his gaze, instead his brow furrowed. Lifting his chin to make eye contact, “It’s cute.”
Despite being had, his words cut like glass. “Just… Don’t let it happen again.” Clark leaned down and kissed him, Bruce humming contently at the touch. When they broke apart, he was a little softer. “I mean it. I’ve got lots of toys in here. I could make you bleed.”
The idea excited him, the concept of being broken by the one he loved most. “Maybe I should then.”
Seething, “Kent.”
He chuckled again, “Okay, okay.” Kissing him passionately, he spoke low against his lips, “I’m happy to remind you who I belong to anytime.”