Chapter Text
Unfortunately, neither of them had been able to make true their promise to have sex the evening after Bruce visited the Daily Planet. Clark had first been stuck at work all evening before having to deal with problems around the world that required Superman's intervention. Bruce himself had had a particularly arduous patrol after not having been out in the suit for two weeks. Robin, Red Robin, and Batgirl had his back, but he was exhausted by the time he got home, even skipping his shower to drop straight into bed next to Clark.
At least Clark had spooned him most of the night. But of course, he'd had to leave for work again before Bruce woke up, only leaving the ghost imprint of a hard cock on Bruce's ass in his wake.
It was fast becoming unbearable. Bruce had plenty of experience with edging, but this was pushing even his limits.
As soon as he woke up, he called Clark.
“Hi honey,” Clark answered.
“We've got to take matters into our own hands before I really go crazy and jump you at your desk.”
“Yup. Way ahead of you. I'm taking you to… ahem, my cabin tonight.”
Ah, Clark couldn't talk freely in the office, but it was clear that he meant his Fortress. And that was right along the lines of what Bruce had been thinking. “Perfect. Do I need to bring anything?”
"Pyjamas?" Clark said after a brief pause.
“You take that back. I'm not gonna be wearing any clothes all night. And neither are you,” Bruce warned.
“Hmm. Really just the bare necessities then,” Clark tried to say inconspicuously, but Bruce could tell through his voice he was blushing. Really, how Clark could simultaneously be the man to almost make Bruce cum with his voice and blush like a virgin at the thought of sleeping naked was beyond Bruce.
“Alright. I’ll see you tonight then. With lube and clothes that you can tear off.”
This time, Clark couldn’t hide the laughter in his voice even if he tried. “I'm looking forward to it.”
When they got to the fortress, everything was quiet. Bruce had arranged with his kids to cover for him in Gotham, and Clark had orbited the world three times to make sure everything was quiet.
“I’ve just done a lap in deep space. No invading forces around any corners in our solar system,” he explained, walking back into the Fortress where Bruce was waiting. His suit was still hot to the touch from reentry when Bruce grabbed him. Hurt, he pulled back his hands. “Ah, better take this off,” Clark said, blowing ice cold kisses on his finger tips.
Bruce revelled in the delicacy of Clark’s lips on his fingers. “Yes. And fast,” he agreed. The sooner they got naked, the better.
They were still only in the wide expanse of the main area of the fortress, where one of the robots came to take Clark’s cape and boots. It walked away wordlessly, either not caring or not knowing about what the human and Kryptonian were about to do.
“No one will disturb us for the next 24 hours,” Clark promised. He walked towards a small bench and sat down. “Come sit with me for a bit.” He held out his hand.
Bruce planted his fists on his hips, standing in front of Clark. “Sit on you, you mean.”
His boyfriend chuckled menacingly. “Later. No, right here,” he said, tapping the bench beside him.
“Clark,” He warned. “No more stalling.”
“We have 24 hours, B. There's not even a wisp of a world threatening event in sight.”
“And I don't want to wait anymore.” He sounded petulant, but blamed Clark. What was wrong with him? After all this work, he surely must want to rip Bruce right out of his clothes. At least that's what Bruce wanted to do to Clark.
“Fine.” Clark got up. Goddamn finally. “You asked for it,” he said, already grinning against Bruce's lips and lifting him up.
And they were on each other. Pieces of clothing went flying in the little space that was left between them. Clark’s hands were warm, his lips were soft, his cock was hard against Bruce’s hip.
“Bed, now,” he commanded, before Clark would take him right then and there. Clark kissed him deeply again, lifted him up and flew them to the Fortress’ bedroom with its large circular bed. He dropped Bruce on the mattress, climbed over him and leaned down to kiss him again and again and again. Bruce felt up the expanse of Clark’s chest, his sides, and down his back, pressing him against himself. They both gasped at their leaking cocks rubbing together.
“Don’t know how much foreplay I can manage before I just… burst,” Clark panted into his mouth.
“As hot as that sounds, I don’t want that to be anywhere else than inside me, so hurry up.” Bruce wasn’t faring much better, already leaking, his balls tight and cock pulsing. He spread his legs a little to push Clark along.
“Where’s that lube.” Clark’s teeth clashed against his own from the way he was smiling. It was undeniable how much Clark wanted him, and how much he wanted Clark in return. And it was maybe even more telling how much that didn’t scare Bruce anymore.
“Pocket.” Bruce blinked and Clark had moved.
“Got it,” he said, tossing the bottle somewhere on the bed, before caging Bruce in again and pulling him close. He wrapped his legs around Clark’s hips, trying to get closer, more friction. Clark cupped his buttocks, squeezing, kissing down his jaw and his neck. Vaguely, Bruce heard him open the cap of the lube. He sat up more between Bruce’s legs. “Ready? Open up more.”
Bruce did. How could he not? How could he deny this man, who gave him everything and waited for him for seven weeks and loved him all throughout every cranky mood? He spread his legs, and cupped his balls to give Clark better access to his empty empty hole. He nodded.
“Rao, Bruce. Look at you. You’re so, so beautiful.” Clark’s flush had spread to most of his chest and the purpling tip of his cock, where precum dripped onto the sheets. His curls had been messed up by Bruce, making his hair fall forward over his forehead. His nipples were pink, so deliciously so and peeking between dark hairs, and his eyes shone bright blue. And he called Bruce beautiful.
Bruce couldn’t take the wait anymore. “Get in me, babe. I need you.” His voice already sounded wrecked from the kisses Clark had showered on him, and he still intended to make Clark fuck him so hard that he couldn’t do anything other than scream his name.
Clark moved his hand towards Bruce’s butt, pressing his thumb down on his perineum as he circled his rim with his middle finger. Bruce exhaled.
The doors to the bed chamber slid open. An eerie repeating tune started playing. An alarm? “Excuse me, Kal-El, but you told me to warn you when it was time,” a robotic voice said way too loud. When Bruce had recovered enough to turn his head, he was met with one of the Superman robots standing right next to the bed.
“Clark,” he growled.
But Clark was focused on the robot. “Already? But I was hoping we could get at least one round in…”
“You now have a 14 minute window, Superman. After that it will be another 115 years before the next opportunity to witness from Earth.”
“14 minute window? Clark, did you set an alarm to watch some comet fly past?" Bruce let his hand drop to the mattress, quickly getting annoyed. “You can literally fly out and see comets and meteorites whenever you want.”
Clark wiped his hand on the sheets. Bruce frowned.
“Bruce, baby, sweetheart. I’m so sorry, this is why I wanted to wait. It’s not a comet. It’s something I want you to see.”
Bruce felt petulant anger rise to his cheeks. He clenched his teeth. “Seven weeks, Clark. No sex, we keep getting interrupted, and now it’s you?! Your robots, your space thing. Is it a space thing?”
“It is.” Clark stood up, already dressed in his suit again, minus the cape which he held in his hand together with Bruce’s sweater and pants.
“What space thing could possibly be so important that you have to interrupt this moment for it?”
“This ‘space thing’ is, I promise. Will you come watch? Please, for me? You love me, right?”
Clark was playing dirty and he knew it. There was no way Bruce would say no to that, but he still made a point of grumbling for a full ten seconds while getting up, before pushing out a “Fine” through his teeth.
“You know I hate surprises,” Bruce complained inside the cape as Clark flew him out of the Fortress into the cold polar night.
“Not this one, I hope,” Clark's voice said outside of Bruce's indestructible and warm cocoon. There was a tremble to it that was equal parts excitement and nerves, piquing Bruce's interest.
Outside on top of the ice and snow, it was already dark, Bruce could see now, as Clark peeled the cape away from his face with gentle hands. The Kryptonian fabric shielded him from the cold of the north pole. Clark had placed him on an ice rock, and he sat down next to Bruce, wrapping an arm around him.
Above them, streaks of light floated straight down towards the earth from what looked like rainbow colored ripples in space.
“It looks similar to a regular meteor shower,” Bruce mumbled. Had Clark really interrupted their love making for this? Granted, it was beautiful, but not worth another interruption to Bruce. Though, now that he looked closer, the lights floated straight down, and dwindled, rather than burning up. And the ripples seemed to let them through, plucking them from somewhere.
“They’re particles of light,” Clark answered some of Bruce's unspoken questions. “Slowed down enough for humans to see with their naked eye.” He spoke calmly, and yet, there was tension in his voice, right under the surface, brimming with something Bruce couldn’t quite name yet.
“They’re at the end of their life, dropped here through extremely rare wormholes from any corner of the universe,” he continued.
“Wormholes?” Bruce mused. They should really monitor those if they showed up randomly like that. “What happens if you get caught in one?”
“It’s not exactly a walk in the park,” Clark said, as if from personal experience.
“We should monitor them. What about the particles? Are they dangerous?”
“Not at all.”
Bruce felt Clark looking at him, but he kept his gaze on the sky. “It is beautiful,” he said.
Underneath Clark’s cape it was warm. Outside of it, Clark reached his hand to Bruce’s, grasping it through the material. He scraped his throat, and said: “I caught one of them once.”
“What did you do with it?” Bruce turned his head to look at his boyfriend. His boyfriend, who caught particles of light within the same hands he was holding Bruce with. His boyfriend, who smiled so softly at him now, as if everything made sense as long as they sat on top of an iceberg together watching an astronomical event that shouldn’t be possible. Bruce’s own heart thundered in his ears.
“Funny you should ask.” Clark let go of Bruce, and floated around to his front. Mid-air, he bent his legs, as if getting down on one knee. “Bruce,” he started seriously.
“Oh no.” Bruce swallowed. Oh no, oh no, oh god. His throat constricted painfully. He swallowed again. In the span of a millisecond, he swore to make it his life's mission to not cry for this, right before Clark opened his mouth again.
“Yes. Let me speak,” he said. He used heat vision on his own hands, and grabbed both of Bruce’s, keeping them warm outside the cape cocoon. He looked up to make eye contact. “Bruce. You are my everything. Or - to quote a very smart person - You’re the love of my life. You’re the person I want to come home to, every day, whether it’s been a normal, or hard, or exhausting, or extraordinary one, you are constant. You’re the only person who understands all of it. All of me. From my upbringing to my otherness and my heritage to my identities. And that’s not just through shared experience, but through hard work as well, learning with me, learning for me, and talking long nights. You’re the only person who knows who I am in-between, who I really am, and who sees right through me when I’m not myself. You’ve helped me so much. You’ve opened your heart for me, and your home, and let me get to the center of you and let me take down your walls, one by one.” Clark smiled at him. Bruce held his breath, fearful of ruining the moment if he so much as moved a molecule of this perfect night.
“I want to raise our kids together, I want to grow old with you. I know we're only just officially moving in together, but this feels right, right now. I don't want to wait anymore. Waiting sucks. I never ever want to go seven weeks without making you cum anymore.”
Bruce huffed a laugh. His cheeks were wet. So much for that life's mission.
“I love you so much, B.” Clark reached behind himself, pulling a tiny box from god knows what secret hidden pocket in his super suit. Bruce breathed deeply. Clark floated closer, looking into his eyes. “Bruce Wayne, my Dark Knight, my sweetheart, will you marry me?”
Inside the box was a ring, made of black ore, laid in with a small clear stone, which encapsulated a pulsing light.
It was beautiful.
“Clark,” Bruce croaked. “How can my answer be anything other than Yes? I love you. I’ve always loved you. You inspire me, you’ve taught me to trust, and shown me I’m not alone. I dread the times I spend apart from you.” Clark rubbed his hands. His smile was so beautiful. And Bruce felt his own mouth pull upwards too. “Yes, I want to marry you.”
Clark’s smile illuminated the dark night sky more than any light particle could. He rushed forward and hugged Bruce, and kissed him, slotting their mouths together in perfect symmetry. Bruce held onto the cape, as Clark held onto him, and whispered against his teeth, “Can I put it on you?”
Bruce may have failed at keeping the tears at bay, but at least he wasn't the only one. Clark's cheeks were wet now as he pulled away. Bruce wiped them with his thumbs, and nodded.
With shaky hands, Clark took the ring from its little box and pushed it onto Bruce's left ring finger.
“Did you make it?” Bruce whispered.
“Yes. The light particle is synced to my heartbeat,” he explained, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. He put Bruce's hand on his chest, so Bruce could feel the vibrations in time with the pulses.
It was beating like rapid fire.
“Clark. Do you realize…” Bruce's eyes widened. Anytime Bruce's own heartbeat increased and he knew Clark knew, he wondered what Clark's heartbeat would sound like. And now he could, just by looking at his finger. The light pulsed warmly, almost so that Bruce could feel it there. It was better than anything he could ever achieve by tracking Clark's vitals and looking at his heartbeat on a monitor. With this small piece, Clark had given him the one thing he had of Bruce that Bruce thought he could never have of him. “You have to show me how you did this,” he said.
Clark kissed his lips again. “I will. Right after we have the best engagement sex of our lives.”
“Yes.” Bruce pulled on his collar. “No. More. Interruptions.”
Back inside, the smooth silver sheets of the Kryptonian bed were warm against Bruce's back. Clark had undressed them again, but left the ring on Bruce's finger. He pushed him down into the mattress, kissing deeply, as Bruce pushed up to meet the tantalizing roll of Clark's hips with his own.
Bruce had learned long ago that a Kryptonian - or a Clark, he wasn't sure - full of love and being allowed to give it, was like a force of nature cleaving through every sliver of doubt. It was his smile, blinding now and the white of his teeth touching Bruce's. It was his arms and his hands, holding so close and so safe. It was his warmth. It was his eyes, caring and depths of desire.
“I'm gonna make you feel so good, okay?” Clark whispered sickly sweet into his ear, into his mouth. “You're gonna be my husband.”
Clark, his husband… Bruce gripped his chin to make Clark face him. “And I'm gonna take damn good care of you,” he said. They kissed again.
Clark's cock pushed incessantly at his thigh, hot and heavy. “Come on,” he ground. “Want you in me. No more stalling.”
“I wouldn't dare.”
Clark sat up, reaching for the lube again, and simultaneously Bruce spread his legs to open up. As Clark reached down, he leaned back over to be close. They were never going to spend so long apart again. Not now. It should be illegal, Bruce thought, and at the same time, he knew Clark would never solely be his. Clark belonged to the world, to Metropolis, just as he had pledged himself to Gotham first and foremost.
Bruce exhaled, relaxing. That just meant they had to seize every moment together, and make it the best. Clark touched his rim. The warmed lube was still a little cool, a tingling sensation on his skin, making Bruce open his mouth briefly in a promising jolt. “Just one first, okay?” Clark whispered between kisses.
Bruce nodded.
Clark pushed in slowly, anchoring a thumb on Bruce's perineum. He fucked in and out, keeping it shallow and focused on stretching Bruce for later. The sensation of Clark fingering him was amazing, and soon not enough. Bruce mewled. There was no other way to describe it. His cock was so painfully hard, straining against his abdomen and trapped between the two of them, and here Clark was, fingering him open at a snail's pace as if they finally had all the time in the world. He sounded pathetic. He didn't care; Clark drank it all up.
He licked greedily at Bruce's mouth, his jaw and where it met his neck, right behind his ear.
“Clark,” he gasped.
The intensity of the blue in Clark's eyes was overwhelming, locked onto Bruce's own, with perfect dimples in his cheeks. There had been a time when Clark's love had been crushing in its abundance, but with time, Bruce had learned to give in, and surrender, and push back in kind.
“Sweetheart. Darling,” Clark said now, innocently as if he wasn't knuckle deep inside Bruce.
Must Clark torture him like that? Bruce groaned. “I'm marrying a sadist.” He had to move. He needed more. He canted his hips and gripped the sheets. “More. Please.”
“Number two?”
“Fuck yes.”
Clark pulled out and sat up a little, coating his fingers in more lubricant before pushing two past Bruce's rim.
“How's that?”
“Good.” Bruce angled his hips up a little. “Come down here,” he said, wrapping an arm around Clark's neck and back in an effort to be closer.
Clark was so warm. He touched his nose to Bruce's and hummed. “You want to be so close to me, baby? I wanna be so close to you, all night. Not gonna let you out of my sight anymore.”
It was unfair, how Clark managed to talk so sweetly and send more tingles down his spine with just his voice. It was unfair how he made it so easy for Bruce to accept all of it.
He let out a shaky breath. “Clark. I will not be held accountable for when I cry tonight when you fuck me.”
“I'm going to make love to you,” Clark said stubbornly. To the resulting huff, he licked into Bruce's mouth. Bruce sucked on his tongue, and yelped when Clark's fingers brushed his prostate.
“Don't make me cum. Don't you dare ruin this now. I want to cum on your cock.” Bruce clenched his teeth, gripping his own shaft at the base to prevent any trace of orgasm.
“Look at you,” Clark continued to torture him. “Are you gonna be so good for me?”
“Mhmm.” Bruce bit his lip and closed his eyes. He clenched involuntarily around Clark’s fingers. Waves of pleasure shot up his spine, all the way to the top of his head where Clark was stroking his hair. He wasn’t gonna last long like this.
“Three,” Bruce begged and Clark added another finger.
They made out for a while, kissing slowly, as Clark fingered him open until Bruce was needy and slick and ready, so ready. He pulled out, leaving Bruce wanting, and huffing and his cock straining painfully hard against his abdomen.
Clark sat up on his knees again, showing off the taut muscles on his chest, heaving in deep breaths and hair trailing down over his belly. Bruce trailed his gaze down, to where a hand that could contain a miniature sun gripped his purpling cock so hard that his knuckles turned white and wow. Clark was just as far gone as him, biting his lower lip in need, flushed with warmth, just like himself.
It was disarming to realize how he wanted Bruce just as much as he wanted Clark.
He had to grip his own cock to not cum at the sight alone.
Quickly, Clark squirted some more lube and coated his cock. “Okay,” he breathed, and after seven weeks of not finishing, finally lined up. Bruce’s hole was pulsing with need. He stared at Clark’s face, so concentrated as his tip pushed against the rim. Bruce could not stop the grunt that escaped his clenched teeth as Clark pushed in. Clark let himself fall forward, supported on one hand while the other still gripped the base of his shaft, biting his lips.
Bruce wasn’t faring much better. They panted in short breaths, gasping and huffing until Clark was about halfway in.
“Ha, Bruce, you’re so tight.”
“You're not gonna cum right away like some virgin, are you, Kent?” He breathed heavily.
“N-no. I’m gonna make it so good…” Clark’s voice trailed off in a moan as Bruce clenched down on him a little. “Fuck.”
Bruce smiled. Clark covered his mouth with his hand.
“You tease,” he said, and pulled out a little, before thrusting back in halfway. Bruce’s eyes rolled back in his head.
“Down here,” he commanded again, and encircled Clark’s frame with his arms, and hooked his legs around his waist, planting his heels in the small of his back to pull him close. This forced Clark to let go of his own cock, and he gave in, wrapping his arms around Bruce in surrender, starting their game of push and pull with a deep kiss.
He rolled his hips, agonizingly slow, and Bruce felt everything. He did the same roll again, and again, and again, slowly and superficially. It was torture. And it was so good. On every thrust, Bruce felt more complete. He was whole, one with Clark. His fiance.
“We're doing it,” Clark smiled.
“We're engaged,” Bruce sobbed.
“I love you.” Clark kissed, on Bruce's jaw, and his mouth and his ear. Bruce cupped his face.
“I love… fuck – love you too.” He crushed their mouths together, so he wouldn't have to feel the tears stinging in his eyes.
Still Clark was going with the slow and steady thrusts, not changing pace, not changing angle, pushing at Bruce's prostate towards the precipice of everything that had been building for the past month since Clark's return from space. Bruce's belly tightened in a titillating buzz of arousal. His eyes rolled back in his head and he had to grip the pillows in an effort to ground himself.
Clark pushed their foreheads together, sharing breaths, sharing moans. He whispered, relentless in his lovemaking and making Bruce blush impossibly more. “You feel so good, baby. I missed you so much.”
“You've got me now,” he kissed back. “I missed you too.”
Clark nodded against him, eyes closed. Bruce gave in, accepting the continuous pounding of love, the only force that mattered with Clark Kent.
Bruce was strung so tight, every nerve alight with Clark's continuous thrusts. He canted his hips, trying to meet Clark, accommodate him, and have him.
"Deeper"? Clark asked. Bruce nodded in the limited space between them. He could take it.
“Pillow,” he panted after Clark pulled out, commanding him with a single word. Clark swung around, grabbing a stray pillow off the bed, and tried to position it under Bruce's butt and lower back.
God, his legs were like jelly. His hole was twitching, his insides on fire and his balls were so fucking tight.
“Up,” Clark laughed as Bruce struggled to plant his feet on the mattress and lift his hips. He shoved the pillow underneath him. When Clark wasn't satisfied with the position of the pillow under Bruce's back, he came forward, lifting Bruce's lower half with one hand, and adjusted it.
Bruce huffed.
“You love it.”
“And you already know that. Don't have to tease me about it.”
“Maybe I love to tease you. Come on, ankles up here.” Clark pointed to his shoulders, and Bruce didn't need to be told twice. He loved being pressed in half by Clark. He'd press so impossibly deep, and his own cock would be trapped between his belly, legs and Clark's body, making for delicious friction. And Bruce trained his flexibility of course, a split was no issue, and neither was a mating press.
Clark pushed back in, groaning deeply, sending ripples of pleasure straight to Bruce's cock. The slide was easier now, but tighter, and Clark kept pushing until his hips were flush with Bruce's ass. He didn't move, instead bending down closer, to kiss Bruce and hold him again, inescapably tight.
Bruce had nowhere else he'd rather be.
He wrapped his arms up around Clark's biceps even though the reach was harder now with his own thighs in the way. They kissed, open mouthed, licking along lips and teeth and tongue. If only they could get closer to each other still, somehow.
The incessant and unmoving press of Clark's cock against his prostate was near unbearable, a constant stimulus on his neglected arousal. As nice as it was to just kiss and give in to the pressure, he really needed Clark to move.
“Make me cum, fiance,” he whispered as their lips left a minute gap between them.
“F-fuck,” Clark gasped. Bruce felt his cock twitching inside him. “Bruce…” he thumbed his jaw, paradoxically gentle in this position.
Bruce looked into his eyes, watery and swimming with love. “Move, please?”
Clark nodded, hiding his face in the crook of Bruce's neck and started pulling back. When he was almost out, he pushed back in. The slow drag had Bruce whimpering, taking shaky breaths of air in the infinitesimal space between them.
Soon, Clark was steadily increasing his thrusts in both speed and force, pushing Bruce higher up the mattress with each snap of his hips.
Bruce carded fingers through his hair, scratching indestructible scalp in an effort to push back against Clark's unwiltering onslaught of love and kisses with his own. Clark entwined his fingers with Bruce's, touching the ring that was still there. They met in the middle. They always would.
“So good, baby. You're so good,” Clark babbled, showering him in praise, letting the words fall off his tongue without any effort at all. Bruce was moaning, crying with the force of Clark's lovemaking. He knew his cheeks were stained with tears and still he wanted more. “Baby. Sweetheart, I love you. I love you,” Clark whispered, so softly it never had a chance of escaping the molecules of air between them. The soft-spoken words couldn't be a bigger contrast with Clark's powerful thrusts, and Bruce couldn't hold out any more. The continuous pushing at his prostate had him tumbling fast towards release. Finally, sweet, rewarding release. Somewhere, deep deep down, he wished they could stay like this forever, in this moment.
“I'm gonna cum,” he cried.
“Yeah,” Clark said with a smile, making everything right again.
“I love you, Clark,” Bruce said on the cusp of orgasm. “Fuck!” He pressed Clark's mouth to his own as release overtook him, while Clark kept pounding into him, faster and faster, chasing his own orgasm. The build up finally exploding into a powerful release was almost too much. Cum splurted from his trapped and untouched cock. Bruce was shaking with it, sweat running down his brow as his orgasm finally, finally washed over him.
He moaned into Clark's mouth, toes curling as he clenched around him, and Clark's moves shuddered and stuttered as he neared his own precipice.
In an uncharacteristic display of almost losing control, Clark hugged him hard, biting his lips and pushing Bruce further into the pillow. Clark's cock felt impossibly big inside of him and it was so good. Bruce kissed him, he held him, he led him through his panting moans.
“Ha, ha, ha, f-fuck, Bruce!” Clark breathed. His hot seed spilled inside Bruce, filling him up. He stuttered through the aftershocks, finally coming to a halt.
They kissed.
Slow, little nibs, until Bruce wasn't sure anymore where he ended and Clark began, still hazy from his orgasm. His lips were tingling. His eyes were tired, his brain turned to mush. And Clark was warm.
“That was amazing. You were amazing,” Clark whispered wetly.
“Felt good,” Bruce sighed.
“Yeah?” Clark was so eager for praise. Bruce dealt it in the form of more kisses, fingers carding slowly through hair, and a minute nod of his head. Encouraged, Clark moved again, thrusting up. He was still hard.
And as good as Bruce felt, warm deep inside his heart and his belly and nearly everywhere, still tingling with post-orgasm endorphins, he didn't think he could take much more. His hips felt painful, his muscles tight from being stuck in one position for so long.
He had wanted so badly for Clark to use him all night, fill him up with his seed, and make him cry, but he simply couldn't accommodate it. Not this time. One orgasm after weeks of nothing had taken him out completely. He still felt it, and now he was simply… tired. But Clark was the opposite. While he had been able to control himself better than Bruce before today, his Kryptonian libido was a long way from being satisfied. With pain in his heart, Bruce pushed at Clark's hips.
“Sorry. I'm beat.”
Clark pulled out, so slowly. “Hey, don't be. That's okay.” He sat up, letting Bruce spread and stretch his legs again. “I had fun with you. That was so good.”
“But not enough.” He pointedly looked down at Clark's still prominent erection.
“Bruce. You are enough.”
“Wanted you to use me all night,” he confessed, closing his eyes in a stubborn shame he felt at failing the mission he'd set for himself.
“You need a good night's sleep. And then some amazing morning sex.”
When Bruce opened his eyes again, Clark was looking down at him in a way that could only be described as fond. He smiled, a blush high on his cheeks and a curl around his lips that spoke of pride. It was intoxicating to look into Clark's eyes. Bruce was sure he was blushing even harder, his heartbeat still erratic and full of love.
And then he remembered he could see exactly how Clark was faring after all that. Beside his cock still looking painfully hard of course. He lifted his left hand up and spread out his fingers, looking at the ring.
The light pulsed rapidly, near continuous.
Clark looked at him expectantly. “Here,” he said, gently taking Bruce's other hand and putting it on his chest where Bruce felt the vibrations echo the pulsing. He wondered if it was normal, for it to be that fast. In the weeks to come, he'd establish a baseline. He would observe whenever he could, whether Clark was asleep next to him, or working in the office, or flying around. And he'd be comforted by the knowledge that Clark could hear him too.
Clark pulled him up now, hugging him, feeling him up and down. “Can I clean you up?” He whispered in his ear. Years ago, he had blushingly admitted that it was one of his favorite things to do when Bruce was overstimulated and squirming, and dripping in both of their releases. For Clark, servicing Bruce, making him feel good, caring, and aftercare followed each other seamlessly, all the way until Bruce was bathed, dressed comfortably, and asleep without nightmares.
He hummed affirmatively.
Clark placed him back down on the bed, starting to kiss a meticulous trail from his ear to his jaw, his neck, his nipples, oversensitive, and the small puddle of his own cum on his belly. He kissed so softly, down past his overstimulated and flaccid cock and to where thighs met his ass.
Bruce moaned, lifting his legs up again involuntarily when Clark sucked a hickey into the skin next to his perineum. It was astounding how Clark was so determined and focused that he could do that while so close to his goal. He switched to the other side, doing the same, and the back of Bruce's thighs, marking him up with circular bruises. And that particular activity stemmed purely from Kryptonian possessiveness, Bruce knew.
Clark finally moved to his goal, still twitching and raw. He could feel Clark's cum drying where it had ran out a little, and then finally Clark lapping it up.
If Bruce lifted his head a little, which he did, with monumental effort, he could see Clark gripping his cock again. That wouldn't do. Clark deserved the world. Not the most painful hard-on in the universe.
“Make yourself cum again, Clark,” he said out loud. God, his voice was wrecked, still thick with release.
Clark obeyed, starting to slowly tug at his cock, rubbing up and down his shaft with one hand while keeping Bruce's thighs parted with the other. It was the hottest thing in the world to watch Clark jerk off and fuck his own fist, knowing that Bruce made him that aroused and desperate.
“Hmm, you look so good like that, babe,” he said, encouraging him.
Clark made a sound in the back of his throat, desperate and thrumming, that vibrated against Bruce's rim. He was licking more in earnest now, between Bruce's cheeks where some of the cum had trickled down. Slowly, he made his way back up to Bruce's slick hole, sucking at his rim. Bruce couldn't help his twitching leg muscles. Being laved in Clark's attention like this felt so good. He took a hold of Clark's hair, keeping him in place as he ate him out like a man starved.
Clark's movements on his cock started getting faster, nearly too fast for the human eye to follow. Soon after, he was cumming again, spilling a load between his own fingers and onto the sheets, his nose buried against Bruce's crotch. The vibrations from his moans had Bruce's cock twitching pathetically in interest again, but he still felt drained.
When Clark finally lifted his head again, his face was red, and his mouth curved in a dopey smile.
“Was that good?” Bruce asked.
“It was perfect.” Clark climbed over him again and laid down next to him, gathering Bruce in his arms so they both laid on their side facing each other. He carded his fingers through Bruce's hair. “You were perfect.”
“You did most of the work,” Bruce said.
Clark smiled stubbornly. “And still you are perfect. To me.”
Bruce cupped his cheek, and traced a line from the crown of his head to the tip of his jaw. Clark's eyes were shining and blue with depths that rivalled the stars visible through the Fortress' icy ceiling above them. The skin around them creased in a way that would never be permanent.
“No one can ever be more perfect than my future husband,” Bruce said, because it was true.
Clark pulled him into a kiss. “Husband, I like the sound of that,” he mumbled. “That was the best orgasm I've had in my life.”
“Clark,” Bruce threatened, pulling away and scrutinizing Clark's eyes. "I am not doing that again. I'm never ever going seven weeks without sex with you anymore.”
“How does 8 hours sound?”
“Manageable.” He wrapped a leg around Clark's. “If I get to spend them in your arms.”
Clark kissed him, deeply.
After some more cuddling, they showered together - and Bruce would never admit it, but the waterfall shower in the Fortress was infinitely better than the one in his ensuite at home. He stood under the stream for a long time, letting the pressure massage the knots out of his shoulders and watching Clark and his perfect body, already thinking about everything they were going to do to each other in the morning.
He slept soundly, in the circular bed, sandwiched between the pulsing engagement ring on the nightstand and its echo beating steadily against his back.