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Once this is over, everything will go back to exactly the way it was before. Nothing will change except that they will both know that Batman was right and Superman was wrong. Tomorrow, when Batman happens to bump into Superman at Watchtower for monitor duty, he will--
Superman sucks one of his balls into his mouth and massages it with his tongue.
--shove Superman right back down on his knees because why on earth does this man have to be so damned super at everything?
Bruce breathes in steadily and closes his eyes behind the safety of the cowl, maintaining careful control to avoid gasping at the onslaught of sensations. Batman is not here to seek pleasure. Batman is here to prove a point. Batman can’t quite remember exactly what that point was anymore, but he’s pretty sure it had something to do with an argument they were having. They were the last ones left at Watchtower after a particularly demoralizing debrief, Superman was complaining that Batman should just “tell me what the hell it is you want from me”, and Batman was complaining that Superman--
Superman drags his tongue in one slow streak up Batman’s hardening length, following it with slight pumps of his fist, altering course only once he reaches the tip so he can lick under the sensitive rim of the glans.
--hasn’t bent him over the table and fucked the words right out of him. Bruce would tell him how good he would be for him, tell him how long he’s wanted those hands to bruise his hips, tell him whose face lies behind the cowl just so he can hear him moan his name as he cums inside him.
Fortunately, while that may be what Bruce would do, it’s not what Batman would do. Instead, Batman is standing silently above the kneeling Superman in his private room, both of them still fully suited up with the exception of Batman’s kevlar and leggings pulled away just enough to free himself. Batman’s head is tilted down so that Superman can see him smirking, looking down on him both literally and figuratively. Batman needs him to know just how unimpressed he is with Superman despite his cock’s eager betrayal. Batman is always prepared and in control, which means he’s going to win this argument by--
Superman finally presses his lips against Batman’s swollen tip and sucks down onto him in one fluid motion, right to the base.
--pushing Superman down and showing him exactly who’s boss, who gives the orders, and who he should be begging forgiveness from.
Ah. Right. That’s what the argument was about.
During yet another robot attack, the beautiful idiot had once again gone against Batman’s explicit orders and nearly gotten himself killed. So, per usual, Batman lashed out, Superman got defensive, Superman eventually apologized, Batman ignored him, Batman stomped off to his private room, then Superman ignored his ignoring and followed him into said room. Once inside, Superman angrily asked what he had to do to gain his forgiveness. Batman, in a fit of insanity he would love to blame on his possible concussion, had said something along the lines of “Get on your knees and beg for it.” Unfortunately, it was halfway through his response that his mind replayed the memory of how he nearly lost his best friend (and secret crush), causing him to clam up. So, much to his horror, he didn’t quite get the last half of that sentence out properly. Rather than look equally as horrified, Superman just looked shocked for a second before recovering with a mischievous -- no, dangerous -- grin. He promptly dropped to his knees and proposed a bet of all things. If Batman makes any sound, then Batman has to start talking more openly with him. If not, then Superman will admit that Batman has everything under complete control and will stop disobeying his orders. It was a stupid bet. He should have refused. He should have just--
Superman pulls back, leaving a trail of saliva along Batman’s length, pumping and twisting his fist to spread the slick before sucking his cock deep into his throat once again..
--angry fucked Superman after each mission so he knows exactly why Batman keeps trying to protect him and just how badly his stupid bleeding-heart self-sacrificial bullshit affects him and his stupidly hopeless feelings . The very same ones he had been trying to forget using an equally frustrating reporter. Just when he thought he had found a way to redirect his desires and save his friendship with Superman, the handsome reporter started showing all the tell-tale signs of a failed relationship. He cancelled dates last minute with horrible excuses, even the one they had planned for today. He left him on read for hours. He gave half-assed vague responses whenever Bruce asked him about his day. One time he even went so far as to spend an entire date talking about some other man he worked with who he obviously was carrying strong feelings for despite saying how much he pissed him off. Bruce wasn’t bitter or jealous about that at all because he was too busy resenting being a rebound and hating himself for being such a hypocrite about it. It’s the whole reason he’s vocal about the dangers of intimacy between teammates. It’s because of this resentment over inevitable heartbreak that he should just pull himself out of Superman’s mouth and--
Superman licks away his precum and moans it’s the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted before driving himself back down on Batman’s cock to let the moan vibrate against his sensitive tip.
--pound it against his prostate instead so he can hear him cry out as he’s reduced to a drooling mess beneath him, only capable of needy punched-out gasps at each relentless snap of his hips.
For the first time since Superman followed him into his room, Bruce’s normally infallible control faltered and his hips made an aborted thrust, pressing himself even farther into Superman's throat and startling a near silent moan out of himself. Rather than look affronted at the unplanned assault, Superman’s eyes met his and he practically smiled around Batman’s cock as he slowly pulled off him.
“Careful, Batman,” Superman said with a smirk as he continued to fist Batman’s leaking cock. He used his free hand to tap his ear, “you know my hearing is better than most, you’ll have to do better than that if you want to win this bet.”
Batman huffed, but otherwise ignored the challenge as he once again stilled his body, watching as Superman resumed his efforts, head bobbing eagerly back and forth. Behind the cowl, Bruce narrowed his eyes as he analyzed the nuance behind Superman’s words. Superman had clearly heard him and had every right to try and cash in on his prize, but he didn’t. He stopped only long enough to give Bruce a warning before resuming with poorly concealed enthusiasm. It’s almost as if he--
Superman stills his mouth over the tip of Batman’s cock, tongue snaking its way into his slit before erupting into high frequency vibrations, sending shocks all throughout Bruce’s body.
“Clark!”
Bruce cries out before his brain even catches up to his words, shocking Superman into pulling back and staring up at him, mouth still slack with swollen red lips. Bruce stares down at wide blue eyes that he fucking recognizes and his jaw drops. The handsome fucking reporter who gave him an earth shattering blowjob in the coat closet of his own damned gala and has since been playing hard to fucking get with him is, apparently, his best friend who just so happens to be giving him yet another amazing blowjob .
Barely able to process his own revelation, he notices Superman’s eyes are flickering in the tell-tale sign that he’s thinking at superspeed. No doubt replaying every moment of his adult life trying to figure out how Batman would know Clark Kent, or, more accurately, who Clark Kent has sucked off that could be crazy enough to moonlight as a bat themed vigilante.
Bruce is starting to wonder just how many men Clark has sneakily used superspeed tongue vibrations on when his eyes stop flickering and his face is consumed by an all-encompassing blush.
“I didn’t know, I swear.” Clark blurts out as he abruptly stands up, raising his arms like he wants to grab at Bruce, causing him to instinctively take a step back.
“If I had, I wouldn’t have made up all those excuses. Leaving the oven on, feeding the cat, paying the parking meter--”
“For fuck’s sake, Clark, you don’t even own a car.” Bruce interrupts. It had been one of the more hurtful excuses Clark had given him because it was such a blatant lie.
“...Or a cat.” Clark mumbles, clearly overcome with guilt at having hurt Bruce in the process of keeping his identity secret.
Bruce takes a hard look at Clark and realizes that he really is looking at Clark Kent, not Superman. Clark Kent, the man who he thought was pulling away from him but was just desperately trying to keep him in his life despite his secret responsibilities. Clark Kent, the man who looked past the public perception of Brucie and always found pieces of the “real” Bruce. Clark Kent, the man who would confide in him when he was having a bad day or when he had a fight with the coworker he was so obviously in lo--
Holy shit, Batman was the coworker.
“I’m sorry, B. Or Bruce. I mean… I just… I don’t want you to… to push me away. I want…” Clark stammers, unsure of what to say, as his hand comes up to touch Bruce’s face before it, too, stops mid motion and drops once more.
In contrast to Superman’s broken thoughts, Bruce’s mind never stops as he’s racing through all the things he’s discovered today. First off, his best-friend-secret-crush wants to hear his voice so much he’s willing to suck his cock to get it. Secondly, his flakey-maybe-boyfriend apparently isn’t so flakey and still wants to be his maybe-boyfriend. Thirdly, the so-called “coworker” his maybe-boyfriend has been so obsessed with, the one that Bruce has been not-so-low-key jealous over this whole fucking time, is none other than himself. Lastly, his best-friend-secret-crush is also his maybe-boyfriend who is actively trying to convince Batman not to throw their relationship away.
Most importantly, though, is that Superman has a kink for Batman and Bruce is all for it.
“Tche.” Bruce scoffs as he crosses his arms and shifts his weight, bringing attention back to his neglected erection. “I guess Superman’s got a lot more work to do if he’s going to earn my forgiveness. Especially after getting between me and my boyfriend so many times.”
Bruce smirks in the way that is undeniably Batman as he watches Clark from beneath the cowl, waiting to see whether he decides to play along or not. He's also looking to see if Clark will deny the boyfriend label since they hadn't exactly gotten to the exclusivity stage yet.
Clark’s face flickers through a range of emotions, but quickly settles back into the smile and stubbornly set jaw of Superman.
“Oh? How about all the times my boyfriend kicked me out because of his midnight dates with you?” Superman steps forward into Batman’s space, barely inches between them, as he gently ghosts his fingers over Batman’s twitching erection. “You’re always so controlling, you never let me have a turn with him. Don’t you think you should be making it up to me instead, Batman?”
Batman growls, grabbing Superman’s wrist and yanking him away while simultaneously knocking him off balance with a boot to the ankle. Next thing Superman knows, he’s been spun around and is sitting with his back against the wall. Batman slowly reaches down and grabs Superman’s jaw, using slight pressure of his gloved thumb to coax his mouth open while he uses his other hand to angle himself towards Superman’s still swollen lips.
“Maybe I can be convinced to share.” comes the gravelly voice while he waits for Superman to close the gap. He may be playing Batman - all gruff, no questions, just demands and a need for total control - but Bruce needs to know that Clark is onboard.
Thank god for Superman’s complete lack of poker face. His pupils are blown wide, his jaw pliant as it drops under Batman’s grasp, letting out a whimper that goes straight to Bruce’s cock. Bruce doubted for the briefest of seconds that it was some type of roleplay acting considering just how needy the whimper was, but apparently it was just as much of a surprise to Clark himself. He doesn’t hesitate for long though, moving his lips forward to once again take Batman’s cock into his mouth.
Batman huffs, curling one side of his lips into a sneer as he looks down at Superman. At the sound, Superman’s eyes dart up to see the signature sneer, one he had seen far too many times before on missions. This particular sneer is one he often used when they both knew that Batman was right but Superman was too stubborn to admit it.
The look is wiped clear off his face as Superman sucks hard right down to the hilt, pulling and groping at Batman’s ass hard enough to be felt through the kevlar, all while moaning loudly, causing the vibrations to shoot right through Bruce’s spine and eliciting an aborted hip thrust in response.
Batman slides his hand into Superman’s hair, letting his fingertips ghost over his scalp as he bobs back and forth on Batman’s cock, eager to earn every drop he can get. Just as his cock once again breaches Superman’s throat, Batman grips hard into his hair, stopping him abruptly and letting the signature curl fall forward. Batman holds him there for a few seconds, long enough so that Superman knows it is Batman in control here, not him. Then, once he sees Superman getting impatient, he starts to roll his hips, grinding into Superman’s throat, savouring the squeeze on his sensitive tip.
Superman’s hands once again start groping at Batman, attempting to pull him in even deeper, and so Batman obliges. Using the iron grip in his hair, Batman tilts Superman’s head back and leans his hips farther over Superman’s face, using the new angle to press deeper as Superman’s eyes flutter closed and he moans around his cock. Batman starts to roll his hips, gradually increasing the pace till he feels himself starting to stutter and lose rhythm.
Before their game can end too soon, Batman pulls him off and Superman manages to sneak in an audible pop of his lips, keeping up his defiant streak. With his grip tight in Superman’s hair, Batman uses his other hand to caress Superman’s swollen wet lips, using his thumb to roughly wipe the smirk right off them. Once again vying for control, Superman manages to catch his thumb in his mouth, sucking hard with just a little bit of tooth so that Bruce can feel it through the kevlar.
“Guess this smart mouth of yours isn’t so bad, after all.” Batman huffs as he presses his thumb onto Superman’s tongue, letting it slide over him needily before pulling it out, letting his saliva drip over his chin.
Licking his lips, Superman looks up at him defiantly, “Then why have you stopped? Not sure you’ll be able to last?”
Using more force than he would dare with any human, Batman forces Superman’s head against the wall as he growls, “I’m just getting started.”
Batman shuffles forward, grasping himself to once again line up with Superman’s lips. This time he doesn’t wait as he roughly pushes into the warm wet of his mouth, feeling Superman’s tongue glide eagerly over his length. Once he’s bottomed out, he gives a warning tug on Superman’s hair, causing his eyes to snap up to meet his own.
“ Stay .” Batman growls out in the most demanding tone he can muster and is rewarded by Superman’s full body shiver.
Finally, Batman slowly releases Superman’s now thoroughly ruffled hair. Considering how hard Batman was tugging at it before, most of the curls are still pushed away from his forehead, letting the signature curl lie against his forehead, keeping the image of Superman instead of Clark Kent.
With both hands braced against the wall, Batman slides his length back out until only the tip remains before snapping his hips and fucking into his wet mouth at a steady pace. He keeps his thrusts fast but shallow, only breaching into Superman’s throat enough to break his moans with small choking sounds. The room is filled with the wet sloppy sounds of saliva being forced over swollen lips and past the sharp lines of his chin before spilling onto the chest of his suit. He can’t quite see it, but the telltale shifting of Superman’s shoulders paint a sufficiently lewd picture as he frees himself from his suit, wipes his hand through the saliva on his chest and uses it to pump his own cock, matching Batman thrust for thrust.
He can tell when they’re both close. Superman is starting to squirm beneath him, moans that are broken by the thumping of Batman’s cock slowly shift to mewling whines. Batman’s own breath is getting ragged, making punched out grunts with each snap of his hips. When one of Superman’s hands reaches up to pull Batman deeper, leaving his other to keep pumping away at his own arousal, Batman obliges. Both his hands leave the wall to grip the sides of Superman’s head as he uses the leverage to thrust harder, pressing deep into Superman’s throat.
He only has to fuck into his mouth a few more times for Superman’s whines to be replaced with a loud choking cry and his face to go slack with orgasm, painting the front of his suit with his spend. Batman doesn’t relent and continues to use the now slack jawed Superman’s mouth, meeting each snap of his hips with a rough pull of Superman’s head, chasing his own pleasure while he waits for Superman to come down from his own orgasm. Once Superman finally looks up at Batman, they lock eyes and he thrusts one last time, grunting loudly as he holds him in place while he spills down his throat, grinding his hips as he rides his own orgasm.
Once he’s fully spent, Bruce pulls back almost immediately and drops to his knees, straddling Clark’s thighs. Clark’s eyes go wide with surprise as Bruce hastily pulls off his cowl, tossing it to the side before diving into a deep and dirty kiss, tasting himself on Clark’s tongue, licking at every part of his mouth that his own tongue can reach.
“God that was so fucking hot.” he spits out before shifting Clark’s head to a new angle and diving back in for more.
“Mmph-Bru-mmph-mmm” Clark tries to respond but his words get eaten up before he even has a chance.
Once Bruce is done with his mouth, he moves to his jaw, neck, collarbone, then finally he licks at Clark’s cum, still hot on his chest.
“Bruce, are you sure this is oka-Oh my god, Bruce!”
Superman may be headstrong and confident, but Clark Kent is soft and innocent.
“Of course it’s okay, Clark. You got to swallow, now I want my turn.” Bruce winks up at him before he goes back to cleaning Clark’s chest, kissing his way back up once he’s done. He may just be kissing the suit, but by Clark’s reactions the suit doesn’t do much to dull the sensations.
“Jesus Christ, Bruce . No- I- Um- What about… Um… Inter-office relations?” Clark stammers out, which, if Bruce is being honest, is just about the most adorable thing he’s ever heard.
“Also okay.” Bruce once again starts to reclaim Clark’s mouth with just as much intensity as before.
“Mmph-Bruce-mmph-your-mmph-rules?”
Bruce finally takes pity on the poor boy scout and leans back.
“Clark. They’re my rules. My rules say this is okay.”
“Since when?”
“Since I found out we were already dating.”
“Uh-huh…” Clark gives him a solidly skeptical look. “But wasn’t this just… casual for… Batman?”
Bruce studies Clark’s face, noting the aroused flush has been replaced by an embarrassed one. Clark’s also very notably not meeting Bruce’s eyes anymore.
“Batman has had feelings for Superman for longer than he would like to admit. Bruce can’t imagine breaking Clark’s heart. And Alfred will have my head if I fuck this up.”
Clark’s eyes practically bulge out of his head as he looks back at Bruce. If he didn’t know any better, he’d have thought he had grown a second head or something. Then again, for Batman to reveal he does, indeed, have feelings… Well… maybe he can’t fault Clark too much for that reaction. Batman is, by design, not exactly a “feelings” kind of guy.
If Bruce and Clark hadn’t met, maybe he would have hidden these emotions from him and played it off as casual, but they have met and there is an undeniable chemistry already forming there. In the world of Batman and Superman, even Bruce has to admit that the arguments they get into are born of a deep level of care he has for Clark that’s impossible to define as “just friends”. He’s pretty sure the same applies to Clark now that he’s seen this other side of him.
Bruce is also pretty sure that “friends” don’t cum down each others’ throats while roleplaying as their hero personas.
“Unless you want to break up?” Bruce raises an eyebrow. He’s pretty sure Clark won’t break up with him, but he’s enjoying the opportunity to tease him a little longer.
“What? No! Of course not!”
“Good. I’ll make new reservations to make up for today’s date. In the meantime…”
Bruce leans back in for a kiss which Clark eagerly, if a little dazedly, reciprocates.
“Yo, Bats! You in there? I got a question about the mission debrief for Supes but he’s not in his room. You seen ‘im?”
Bruce leans back and glares daggers at a spot on the wall just above Clark’s head.
“Don’t-”
“Oh! Be right there, Flash!” Clark calls out, shuffling as if he’s about to try and stand up.
Bruce redirects his glare directly at Clark and pointedly does not move from atop his lap. Clark practically squeaks once he notices, shrinking away from Bruce with a sheepish apology.
Bruce takes a deep breath, grumbling as he exhales and stands up, offering a hand to pull Clark up even though he knows he doesn’t need it. Clark takes it anyway with that sunny smile of his, knowing that this is more of a sign of forgiveness than a real offer to help him stand.
Under other circumstances, he probably would have been more angry at being interrupted. Thankfully for Flash, Batman is in a good mood. He has a date to look forward to.