Work Text:
Even for the most powerful hero on Earth, controlling gravity when you are head over heels in love turned out to be a real problem.
Ever since Clark Kent and Bruce Wayne started dating, Clark's whole world had been full of bright sunshine and roses. The fact that he had actually managed to win Batman's heart gave him a high bigger than saving the universe. The only issue was that all this overflowing happiness kept breaking his own personal laws of physics. Every time Bruce's face popped into his head, Clark started floating off the ground without realizing it.
"...Clark? You almost done?"
Inside the noisy Daily Planet bullpen, Lois Lane's voice snapped him back to reality. Clark flinched, almost smashing his keyboard to pieces. He was right in the middle of remembering last night in the Batcave, as he thought about how Bruce had quietly reached out and held his hand. Before he knew it, his hips floated six good inches above his office chair. He realized his feet were dangling in midair and scrambled to force his body down, dropping back into his seat with a heavy thump. He pushed his glasses up his nose and let out a quiet breath. His coworkers assumed his chair leg had just slipped, but his face burned bright red.
This uncontrollable lovesick levitation didn't care about time or place. Up on the Justice League Watchtower, Clark carefully brewed coffee in the breakroom near the monitoring hub. Bruce had been running on a brutal schedule full of back-to-back night patrols, so he was making him a mug of strong black coffee, mixed to his exact favorite ratio. Steam rose warm from the mug. He stared into it and drifted right back into a daydream.
If I bring this to him, Bruce will probably grumble that I'm distracting him from work. But after one sip, his face will soften just a tiny bit. And if I kiss him on the cheek right then...
The second his thoughts got that far, Clark's body floated off the floor again. This time he hovered a whole foot in the air while holding the mug in a super relaxed pose.
"Hey, Big Blue. Why are you floating?"
Hal Jordan had just walked into the breakroom for a drink. He stopped and stared up at Clark as if the man had lost his mind. Hal's voice jarred Clark back to reality, and he yanked his feet straight back down to the floor. The sudden movement almost splashed hot coffee everywhere, but he caught the cup with super speed before a single drop spilled.
"Oh, hey, Hal. I was... just stretching my ankles."
"Stretching your ankles by floating inside artificial gravity? Yeah, right. Makes total sense."
Hal rolled his eyes and walked away. Clark flushed with embarrassment, but he couldn't hide the sweet, dopey smile spreading across his face. That was just how happy he was right now, like the whole universe was celebrating with him.
Floating in midair wasn't the only thing tormenting the young hero, though. As his feelings grew, his sex drive surged right along with them, hijacking his brain. With all his hot blood rushing toward a single man now bound to him as his lover, Clark walked around horny and aching almost every hour of the day.
A glamorous charity gala in Gotham. Whenever he watched Brucie Wayne in a custom tuxedo, smoothly laughing and exchanging casual touches with guests, Clark stood in the corner with his notebook while his pants grew dangerously tight. Every time Bruce patted someone on the shoulder or tossed out a lazy flirt, Clark nearly lost his mind wanting to drag the man into a dark restroom. He wanted to strip off those tuxedo trousers, bend him over the sink, grab his ass, and drive his cock deep into his tight, slick hole. He wanted to fuck him rough and hard until that charming smile broke into raw groans of pleasure meant only for him.
The chilly Gotham night air wasn't any better. Batman glided between skyscrapers on his grappling gun, showing off his muscular thighs and slim waist. Clark watched him, and his throat went dry. He wanted to fly at super speed, snatch him out of the sky, and pin him in a dark alley. He wanted to tear through the suit, pry those thighs apart, and shove his cock to the root. The urge to pound into Bruce, listening to the loud, wet slap of skin against skin as he pushed deep inside, flooded his mind every night.
Even serious Justice League briefings. When Bruce stood in front of the screen, his soft lips moved as he explained the strategy. Clark's gaze drifted straight to his mouth. He wanted to drag the cold, calculating Batman down under the conference table and pull him onto his knees. He wanted to shove his thick cock all the way down the throat that had just been giving orders, fucking his mouth until Bruce gasped with tears in his eyes, filling him up with a warm, heavy load.
And over the past month, Clark had actually put every one of those dirty daydreams into action.
Behind the heavy curtains of the gala terrace, he covered Bruce's mouth with one hand, yanked his pants down, and pounded into his ass like a man possessed. During night patrols, he slipped into the Batmobile, folded Batman's legs up against his chest, and fucked him so hard that wet slapping sounds filled the whole cabin. While the rest of the League stepped away from the Watchtower, he even bent him over the main control console and thrust up into him relentlessly from behind.
The very first time Clark Kent and Bruce Wayne had sex was a few days after they started dating, in the master bedroom at Wayne Manor. Back then, Bruce had never taken a man inside him before. But Clark was so desperate to bury his cock inside him that he could barely contain himself. In the end, unable to resist Clark's puppy eyes and the huge bulge in his pants, Bruce sighed and spread his thighs. Clark slathered his fingers with lube and tapped at the cleft of his ass, but the rim stayed tightly shut.
"Clark, I don't think this is going to work..."
"Just give me a second, B. I will make it feel good, I promise."
Clark reined in his impatience and gently pushed one slick finger inside. Even a single finger was squeezed so hard it felt like Bruce's body was trying to push him right back out, but he stayed patient, slowly working over the sensitive walls. As he worked his way up to two fingers, then three, the slick squelching sounds gave way to muffled groans, and heat began spreading through Bruce's cool skin. Bruce melted under just his fingers, arching his back with a low groan. Clark finally pulled his fingers out and aligned his cock against the entrance. Yet despite all his careful prep work, his sheer size meant he couldn't get all the way in. The tight ring only swallowed the thick, flushed head of his shaft, and the clamping pressure around the head almost drove him insane.
That night, with only the head buried inside while gripping Bruce's thighs, Clark pounded him all night long and set a personal goal for himself. One way or another, he was going to make Bruce take every last inch of him.
From then on, Clark took every opportunity he could get to fuck him. When they woke up in the morning, right after patrols, even during brief breaks, he spread Bruce's legs and pushed inside. He couldn't even count how many times he had fucked him over the past month. Thanks to all that practice, Bruce's body had loosened up enough to swallow more than half of his length.
What drove Clark even wilder was something else entirely. Even before he pushed his cock in, Bruce's hole half-gaped, showing off the flushed, wet pink flesh inside. The entrance trembled with every heavy breath Bruce took, as if it begged to be filled.
"Clark, stop staring... just fuck me already."
Bruce's flushed cheeks and glossy eyes as his open body craved Clark's cock sent pure pleasure straight to his brain every time. Clark stared down at that tempting sight and made up his mind with absolute determination. Halfway wasn't enough. His next goal was getting Bruce to stay wide open for him, ready to swallow every single inch from root to tip before he even pushed inside.
Clark's grand and ambitious goal, however, hit a brick wall before long. It was because Bruce suddenly started avoiding him. Specifically, he avoided touching and sex. When it came to official duties like Justice League missions or night patrols, he carried on as flawlessly as ever. But the moment they crossed into private territory, he put up an iron wall. Whenever they were left alone in the Watchtower monitor room and Clark tried to slide over to wrap his arms around his waist, Bruce slipped away like a feline sensing a shadow. Then he glared at the monitors and threw out a cold word or two.
"Hands off. I'm working."
"Bruce, our meeting ended thirty minutes ago..."
"I'm writing the follow-up report. Don't touch me."
But that was only the beginning. Whether they were in the bedroom at the Manor, the penthouse, or private quarters on the Watchtower, whenever Clark tried to set the mood, Bruce came up with every excuse to wriggle out of it. If he rested a hand on his thigh and tried to lean in, Bruce slapped his hand away.
"I need to reroute tonight's patrol grid."
"Alfred is calling. I have to head down."
"I still have data to analyze. Go to sleep first."
This had been going on for a whole week now. For Clark, who had been holding and fucking him day and night, this sudden stint of forced celibacy was pure torture.
The first ones to notice the freezing chill between them were none other than the rest of the Justice League. Only a month ago, when Superman and Batman first started dating, peace within the League hit an all-time high. That was because Batman had softened up. Even if only by a fraction. He was still gruff and cold, but he wasn't handing out disciplinary write-ups or throwing looks colder than Siberia for every tiny mistake during a mission. Behind his back, the team celebrated, claiming the Bat had finally tasted human warmth (though technically Clark wasn't human) and mellowed out, mostly because they were getting chewed out way less. But now, the tables had turned entirely. His mood hit an all-time low. He was pickier, touchier, and stricter than he had ever been before they started dating, practically acting like a tyrant.
"Flash." In the Watchtower briefing room, Batman's low voice froze the air solid.
"Huh? Yes!" Barry Allen snapped straight up, his spine going stiff. Batman pointed at the monitor, tilting his chin up with a cold glare.
"Page three of last week's damage report. A digit is wrong. Are you planning to waste our mission briefing time making me spot amateur typos? Fix it in three seconds, or you're taking full solo duty at the Antarctica station for the next month."
"I-I'm fixing it right now!"
Barry typed on his pad frantically. Given the lethal atmosphere filling the room, even Hal Jordan beside him held his breath. Nobody could miss it at this point. Something had clearly happened between Batman and Superman, and the entire League was getting slaughtered as collateral damage.
Superman looked even worse. Normally, he gave off a warm, bright energy, kindly reassuring everyone around him. But right now, he slumped deep into his chair as if his whole world had ended. Forget hovering in the air, his boots pressed flat against the floor as he anxiously watched Batman's every move. The second the meeting ended, Hal dragged Barry down a quiet hallway and hissed in a low voice.
"Dude, you saw that, right? They one hundred percent had a fight."
"A fight? That's putting it lightly, Hal! Big Blue looks like he's about to burst into tears, and Bats is ready to eat me alive!"
"Jesus. They just started dating, how are they already like this?"
"At this rate, I'm gonna get exiled to Apokolips by next week..."
Their panicked whispers echoed down the hallway, but the man responsible for the mess just swished his black cape and strode straight toward the Zeta Tube back to Gotham. Clark didn't dare follow him. He just stood there staring numbly at Bruce's back as he vanished through the beam, and let out a heavy sigh. He was about to lose his mind trying to figure out why Bruce had suddenly shut him out and rejected every touch.
The very next day, during a small battle against some alien invaders, Hal's patience finally snapped. Just because he had been a half-second late setting up his ring's forcefield during combat, Batman barked a freezing roast over the open comlink channel.
"A delay of zero point five seconds. Your operational efficiency is seriously flawed, Lantern. Next time, try using your brain instead of that ring."
"Hey! I was setting up a clean angle for my beam-"
"Save the excuses. Out."
The comlink cut off with a sharp click, leaving Hal so pissed off he wanted to smash his ring into the dirt.
To be fair, Batman had always been an annoying, overly strict jerk. But once they briefly tasted the sweet relief of a slightly softer, less oppressive Batman, losing it made his current toxicity ten times worse. Once you tasted the good life, having it snatched away drove you insane.
"I can't take this anymore! I seriously can't!"
The second the fight wrapped up, Hal grabbed Barry by the collar and marched straight into the lounge where Wonder Woman rested. Diana was polishing her sword when she looked up at a fuming Hal and a miserable Barry.
"What is going on, Hal? Barry?"
"Diana! You need to do something about that damn Bat! I swear to God, I can't look at his stupid face for another second!"
"He's right, Diana. Ever since he started dating Superman, he actually loosened up a little when signing off on reports. But now he's back as full Satan! He literally threatened to exile me to Antarctica!"
Diana set her sword down quietly. She was hardly unaware of the strange tension hanging between Superman and Batman on the Watchtower over the past few days.
"I am well aware. Clark has been staring blankly at walls for three days, and Bruce looks like he's ready to execute the entire League."
"Exactly! They're acting like two elementary schoolers having a spat!" Hal yelled in pure indignation.
The three of them put their heads together for an emergency strategy session. After endless guessing about why Batman acted up and why Superman moped like a kicked puppy, they reached one clear conclusion. The only way forward was forcing those two to actually talk to each other.
"Alright, we're setting the stage." Hal quickly grabbed Barry by the scruff again. "Barry, let's go! We're gonna go interrogate Superman!"
They sprinted off down the hall at super speed, promising to handle him themselves. Left behind, Diana let out a soft sigh and headed toward the medbay where Bruce was.
The medbay smelled heavily of antiseptic. Bruce sat alone on an examination table, his cowl pulled off and the top half of his suit peeled down to his waist as he stitched up a small cut on his flank. Only a week ago, Superman would have been right beside him helping with the sutures. Clark used to wrap him in his deep warmth while gently tending to his wounds. That spot was empty now.
Diana walked in with calm, steady steps. Without turning his head, Bruce grunted, "If you're here to deliver an after-action report, do it later, Diana."
"Do I look like I came here to deliver a report?"
Diana stepped closer and gently took the surgical needle and thread from his hands. Bruce frowned up at her, but she pulled up a chair beside him and held the needle ready.
"Hold still. Let me help."
With practiced skill, Diana threaded the needle and began closing the cut on his side. The quiet room filled with the faint sound of steel pulling thread through skin. Every time the tip pierced his flesh and pulled taut, Bruce flinched ever so slightly. She kept her touch light and steady as she spoke softly.
"Did something happen between you and Clark?"
Bruce stared straight ahead at a blank wall, giving a flat, dismissive grunt. "Nothing happened."
Diana sighed, pushing the needle through his skin again. "I don't know what went down between you two, but the atmosphere in the League is getting unbearable. Stop avoiding him and just talk to each other."
The muscle in Bruce's jaw clenched hard. A subtle flush crept up his neck, spreading right to the tips of his ears. He dropped his gaze to the floor. It was a faint change born of embarrassment and awkwardness, one never to be expected from the ever-composed Batman. Caught off guard by the rare reaction, Diana paused her needle hand mid-stitch. Normally, he would have snapped back with a cold remark or changed the subject, yet here he was, turning red. She softened her tone even further and asked gently.
"Is it something difficult to discuss with others?"
Bruce wrestled with himself for a long moment before letting out a low sigh, and quietly nodded in confession.
"...Yes."
That single word gave Diana all the clues she needed. If a reason was mortifying enough that the most prideful man on Earth couldn't even bring himself to speak of it, the answer was obvious. It was something deeply private, something intimate. Something between the sheets. With a knowing smile tugging at the corner of her lips, she threw the final stitch, tied a neat knot, and snipped the thread. Having finished the job flawlessly, she reached up and warmly stroked his messy black hair.
"You love him. For his sake, and your own, make an effort. It's not as if you want to break up, is it?"
Bruce froze under her touch for a beat. As his breath escaped him in the quiet, he finally turned his head away with a grumpy mutter.
"Stop treating me like a kid."
Diana pulled her hand back and let out a soft chuckle. His response was a tangled mess of pride and chagrin, but it made one thing crystal clear: Bruce Wayne had no intention of ending things with Clark Kent.
Meanwhile, Hal and Barry headed toward the Watchtower's massive observation window. Clark stood there all by himself, staring blankly at Earth beyond the glass. A dark storm cloud practically hovered over his back. Even when the two of them approached with heavy footsteps, he didn't turn his head or move an inch. Barry saw his slumped back and walked up carefully, coaxing him like he was trying to soothe a stray dog with its tail tucked.
"Hey... Supes? You okay?"
Still staring at the planet outside, he answered in a hollow voice that sounded like his soul had left his body.
"Yeah. I'm fine."
He was not fine. The tone of his voice sounded like he was facing the end of the world. Hal rolled his eyes as he watched from the side. Barry let out an awkward chuckle and opened his mouth to bring up why they had come over in the first place.
"So, look, Clark. About you and Bruce-"
"Look down there, Barry. Hal." Clark interrupted him, pointing numbly through the glass.
"Earth looks so beautiful from space. A blue ocean glowing alone in the pitch-black darkness, soft white clouds wrapping around it, warm people living out their days inside... Every time sunlight filters through the atmosphere, I realize all over again how radiant humanity is. Human potential is infinite, and the warmth they create warms this cold universe. Watching the Earth rotate slowly from here always fills my heart with so much love for mankind."
Hal and Barry exchanged glances at the sudden Earth tribute speech. Sure, the speech was a little over the top today, but that was definitely the usual Earth-loving Superman. Hal scratched the back of his neck and whispered under his breath to Barry.
"What the hell? He's just giving his usual 'Earth is beautiful' speech. Maybe he's not in as bad shape as we thought?"
"Yeah. I thought he was going to be banging his head against the hull and crying."
Barry nodded with a sigh of relief. He had figured Superman's brain was fried after getting rejected by the Bat, but it seemed like he was managing his feelings just fine through hero pride and love for Earth. But their hope didn't even last three seconds. Clark rested his forehead against the cold glass with a quiet clink. Then, in a voice carrying all the sorrow in the world, he muttered into the void.
"But now... that beautiful Earth feels so far away..."
The air around the observation window froze solid. Hal and Barry's jaws dropped to the floor. He wasn't fine at all! This wasn't just a bad mood, his soul was on the verge of shooting straight out into deep space! Unable to watch this pathetic display a second longer, Hal grabbed him by the shoulders.
"What are you even doing sulking here?! Go fight for your man!"
Despite Hal's shouting, he didn't snap out of it. If anything, he looked even more depressed. He turned to them with big puppy eyes, like a golden retriever with its ears drooping, on the verge of bursting into tears.
"Even if I go... Bruce won't even let me touch him..."
"Ugh, Jesus Christ, you're infuriating!"
As he slumped over with the most miserable face in the world, Hal tore at his hair while Barry desperately patted his shoulder to comfort him. Neither of them had imagined the mighty Superman would crumble like this just because his boyfriend turned down a touch. His frustration reaching a boiling point, Hal shook Clark's shoulders hard and demanded.
"Listen to me, Superman! Spill it! What the hell did you do to Batman?"
"I didn't do anything! I swear, Hal! I just loved Bruce like I always do, but he suddenly started avoiding me!" He defended himself, his eyes full of sorrow and hurt.
"You 'just loved him' and the dark, paranoid Bat suddenly went on a rampage to exile the League to Apokolips?" Hal shoved his face up close. "What the hell happened between you two over the past month?! Tell me exactly how you 'loved' him, step by step!"
Clark went quiet with a pouting face, but under his friends' intense interrogation, he finally let out a sigh and confessed.
"Well... Bruce is just so beautiful, and looking at him makes me want to hold him so bad, so I just fucked him every chance I got."
"You fucked him?" Listening beside them, Barry asked in horror. Clark started counting on his fingers like it was the most normal thing in the world.
"Um... once or twice when we woke up in the morning, once bent over the monitor console when Bruce came to the Watchtower at lunch-"
"You did it on the monitor console too?!" Barry shrieked. Clark kept talking like he hadn't heard him.
"-in the Batmobile right after night patrol, and maybe three or four times when we got back to the bedroom at night."
"...Hold on." Hal's hand slid off Clark's shoulder. Pure terror flickered in his eyes.
"Are you saying... you fucked him more than five times a day? Every single day?"
"Yeah. It's natural for lovers to make love." Clark spoke with a dead serious, deeply wronged expression.
"On the first day, Bruce had never bottomed before, so he was shut tight. Even after prepping and warming him up, I could barely fit the tip in. So I made a promise to myself. I was going to make sure Bruce could take all of me."
"..."
"So for the past month, I fucked him whenever I had the chance. I can't even remember how many times... But thanks to that, now he swallows more than half! He even gaped half-open before I even put it in. It was so cute that I fucked him even more..."
Hal and Barry's faces morphed into pure horror and shock in real time. It had started as mild curiosity, but the result was overwhelmingly explicit, shocking information about their private life. The Batman was getting pounded several times a day by the strongest being on Earth, bouncing between the main console, the Batmobile, and the bedroom! Barry turned bright red, his mouth agape, and covered his lips with a hand. His brain melted from overload as he broke into a cold sweat.
"E-every day...? To Bats...? With your... monstrous size...?"
Hal grabbed him by the collar in total disbelief. "You crazy horn dog bastard! That isn't 'just loving him'! The fact that Batman's lower half hasn't been destroyed and he's still walking around normally is the eighth wonder of the universe!"
"But I did it because I really love him." Clark blinked in shock at Hal's blowup.
"IT'S YOUR FAULT, YOU IDIOT! He's not avoiding you because he hates you! He's avoiding you because his ass is in fucking pain and he's exhausted!" Hal yelled, veins popping.
"But... Bruce never said no whenever I asked. He never once said he didn't want to." Clark muttered softly, looking genuinely hurt.
Hearing that, Hal felt his soul leave his body from sheer speechlessness. This clueless alien knew nothing about the Dark Knight of Gotham.
"You absolute dumbass! Do you not know how stubborn that damn Bat's pride is?! His pride is high past the edge of the universe! Do you think Batman could ever bring himself to say, 'Honey, it hurts. Stop fucking me' to his boyfriend?!"
Hal jabbed a finger at him, and Clark clutched the edge of his cape, mumbling, "...I really didn't know what human sex drives were like. I thought he was like me..."
"HOW COULD YOU NOT KNOW?!" Hal screeched in disbelief. Standing beside him, Barry chimed in.
"He's right, Clark! If a normal human guy gets pounded five times a day like that, his pelvic bones turn to dust! Batman only survived because he's Batman!"
"I-it was really that serious...?"
Clark's face slowly drained of color. To Superman, it was only natural for lovers to hold and cherish each other like that. Just then, as he watched his clumsy, naive reaction, a terrifying question struck Hal. He narrowed his eyes and leaned in close to Clark's face.
"...Wait, were you a virgin before the Bat?"
Instantly, Clark froze in place. A deep red flushed over his cheeks. He darted his eyes toward empty air, before finally... giving a quiet nod with a beet-red face. A heavy silence fell in front of the observation window. Hal and Barry stared open-mouthed at the strongest guardian in the entire universe. Hal slapped a hand over his forehead and burst into a dry laugh.
"Jesus Christ... The savior of the cosmos lived as a virgin for over thirty years, and his cherry got popped by Batman?"
"Thirty years of pent-up virgin horny energy exploding onto Batman's ass every day?!" As Barry yelled in shock, Clark slumped his shoulders and ducked his head.
"I just... I liked Bruce so much. It was my first time, so I didn't know how much was normal... and Bruce was so beautiful I couldn't help myself..."
Hunched over in his massive frame and muttering excuses, Clark looked exactly like a golden retriever that had just realized his mistake. Hal clicked his tongue and slapped him on the back.
"Of course you couldn't help yourself! Thirty years of lust exploding all at once, no wonder the Bat's lower half was shattered! Go drop to your knees right now, beg for forgiveness, and swear you'll be gentle!"
Finally realizing the tragic disaster caused by thirty years of pent-up virgin sex drive, his eyes snapped open.
"Thanks, guys! I'm off!"
Before they could add another word, Clark sprinted toward the medbay, leaving a blue blur behind. But when he threw the door open with a bang, Bruce wasn't there. Only Diana was inside cleaning up. She saw him burst in like a hurricane and offered a gentle smile.
"If you're looking for Bruce, he already headed back to Gotham."
"Ah. Thanks, Diana."
Clark jumped straight into the Zeta Tube and headed to Gotham. The moment he descended into Gotham's cool, gloomy night air, he focused his super hearing to search for one of the most familiar, beautiful heartbeats in the world.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
From deep inside the dark, damp Batcave came the steady thrum of Bruce's heart. Without a second thought, Clark flew toward the cave. He landed soundlessly on the floor and caught sight of Bruce standing in front of the giant Batcomputer monitor. He had taken off his cowl and cape. As he leaned slightly forward, his long fingers clicked noisily against the keyboard.
The problem was the way he leaned over. His narrow waist folded smoothly, pushing his firm ass back just a bit. Memories of grabbing those hips and pounding into that ass every day for the last month rushed through Clark's mind. Even though he had come here to apologize, the second he saw him like that, he swallowed hard despite himself. Sensing the faint presence of the Kryptonian, Bruce paused his typing. Without even turning around, he opened his mouth.
"What is it?"
Jarred back to his senses by Bruce's voice, Clark hurriedly stomped down the surge of lust rising inside him and moved immediately. He dropped straight to his knees on the damp stone floor behind him. At the heavy thud of Superman kneeling, Bruce frowned and slowly turned around. Clark was down on his knees, looking up with miserable puppy eyes. Bruce stared down at him, and his expression flickered.
"Bruce, I really didn't know. I am so sorry."
Clark apologized in a voice thick with genuine guilt and sorrow. The guilt of being so ignorant, of loving his partner so much that he had relentlessly fucked him way past what a human body could handle, weighed heavily on his shoulders. Bruce watched him crouched on the floor, raised a hand, and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Get up. Right now."
Clark watched his expression cautiously, as he hesitantly picked himself up from the floor. Bruce crossed his arms, looking at him.
"What exactly are you apologizing for?"
Clark hesitated before blurting out the truth with a quiet mutter. "Well... because I fucked you every day... Wasn't that why you were avoiding me? Because you're too sore?"
Bruce's eyes widened, caught off guard. A split second of pure embarrassment washed over the face of the world's greatest detective. Then, a flush of dark red spread up his neck and reached his ears all at once. He jerked his gaze sideways.
"...That's not why."
"Then... you didn't hate doing it with me?"
Bruce sighed like the question was totally ridiculous, adding in true Batman fashion. "If I hated it, I would've beaten you with Kryptonite weeks ago."
A bolt of lightning struck Clark's brain. Now that he thought about it, that was completely true! This was Batman. If he genuinely disliked something or wanted to reject it, he would have pulled out the Kryptonite ring he kept in his utility belt and shattered Clark's jaw or smashed his thigh. Yet every time Clark grabbed his legs and pushed inside, Bruce swallowed his groans and gave up his body willingly. Far from hating it, he had never even reached for Kryptonite once.
So Bruce didn't hate having sex with him. Relief and confusion hit Clark at the same time. He took a quick step closer to him and asked.
"Then why were you avoiding me?"
Bruce bit his lip, unable to answer easily. In his deep blue-gray eyes, a storm of dark thoughts and complex calculations swirled. Pride, perfectionism, losing control, or maybe something far too humiliating to say out loud clashed behind his eyes. As Clark stared down at his flushed face and bitten lip, his mind went strikingly simple, worlds apart from Bruce's chaotic thoughts. Only one thought remained in his head.
I want to fuck him right now...
Bruce had never once refused him, never said no, even when Clark pounded him several times a day to the point no human could take it.
Which means... Bruce likes getting fucked by my cock, right?
A crystal-clear logic formed inside his brain. The moment he reached that conclusion, Clark sprang into action.
"Wait, Clark-"
Before Bruce could say another word, Clark scooped him up by the thighs and hips, lifted him effortlessly and laid him back on the Batcomputer main console. The sudden lift and the cool touch of the metal desk sent a shock straight through his eyes.
"Clark! What are you doing?!"
A startled Bruce tried to sit up, but Clark had already lost his mind and heard nothing. Working fast, he grabbed Bruce's suit pants, belt, and underwear all at once, yanking them straight down below his knees. He grabbed Bruce's thrashing thighs and spread them wide apart, exposing his bare hips and thighs under the dim glow of the monitors.
Even after a week without touching, Bruce's hole still remained half-parted, showing off the flushed, wet pink flesh inside. The filthy view hit his eyes, and Clark's cock swelled hard against his suit, straining like it was ready to tear through the fabric. The urge to shove his cock right into that hole consumed his brain. But he bit his lip and stopped himself before slamming his hips forward. He had learned his lesson from his friends. Just blindly hammering into his ass had to stop.
Clark decided to hold off on fucking Bruce's hole directly for a moment. Instead, he made up his mind to make him feel good first in a different way. He wrapped his hand around Bruce's soft cock. Taken by surprise, Bruce jerked back and let out a broken groan. Clark wrapped his huge, warm palm around the shaft and began stroking up and down, pressing his thumb over the tip as he slid his hand along the length.
"Ah...! Clark, w-wait...!"
Bruce squirmed against the cold desk as he tried to pry Clark's hand away, but inside his firm grip, Bruce's cock throbbed hard in seconds, swelling thick and heavy. Clear slick beaded at the tip, coating his palm.
I knew it...! Bruce was holding back a lot too!
The heavy, rock-hard shaft pulsed in his grip. Clark's eyes shone with joy. He started speeding up his hand movements. Wet, sticky squelches echoed as he worked Bruce's hard cock up and down, drawing heavy breaths from him.
Bruce panted heavily, his chest heaving with every breath. As Clark pumped his hand faster, clear, sticky pre-cum oozed nonstop from the tip of Bruce's hard shaft. The liquid welling up from the tip wrapped around it like lube, coating it thoroughly. Bruce ground his hips against the cold metal desk, caught up in a dizzying pleasure like he was right on the edge of coming. His thighs trembled violently, and muffled groans broke free from his chest. Clark watched as the slit at the tip of his cock swelled red and twitched. He was right at the peak, ready to erupt at any second. He didn't miss his chance and stroked hard from the base to the tip in one long motion. Then he cupped the head with his palm, rubbing in tight, circular motions. The intense friction against his sensitive tip made Bruce arch his back sharply and cry out.
Gripping the metal edge of the Batcomputer desk with white knuckles, Bruce threw his head back and whimpered. But after rubbing him like that for a few seconds, Clark tilted his head in confusion. Something was wrong. Bruce's tip twitched and spurted liquid, but only clear fluid wet his palm. Not a single drop of thick, white cum was anywhere in sight. Even though he was practically shivering from pleasure and breathing heavily, he couldn't come. Clark blinked, looking between Bruce's flushed erection and his own pre-cum covered hand.
Why is it only clear fluid? Why isn't he coming?
Unsure of what was causing this strange reaction, Clark froze, his mind going blank.
Is it because it has been a while? But he got hard so fast...
Clark tilted his head, lost in thought. His inexperienced, former-virgin mind had no answers. So his brain immediately jumped to a new hypothesis. He clearly just wasn't giving him enough stimulation yet.
He tightened his grip around Bruce's cock again. He stroked up the shaft with even firmer pressure and rubbed his palm firmly over the tip. With so much pre-cum coating the skin, loud, wet squelching filled the air. As the relentless friction bombarded his shaft and head, tears prickled in Bruce's eyes as he twisted his body wildly on the desk. Overwhelmed by pleasure and frustration, he shivered and his thighs shook as he cried out.
"Stop...! Stop it, Clark!"
Teetering endlessly on the edge of coming without being able to release, Bruce choked out a pained sob with tears in his eyes from the overstimulation. The moment he told him to stop, Clark halted his hand in a panic. Though his own suit bulged heavily between his legs, he stood over him with genuine confusion and asked.
"Bruce... why aren't you coming?"
Bruce's heavy breathing slowly ebbed away. Black hair stuck to his forehead with sweat and tears as his eyes stared blankly up at Clark. As the meaning of his question set in, Bruce's face flushed a burning red in an instant. He dropped his gaze to his exposed erection. Inside Clark's hands sat his slick, rigid cock, twitching pitifully as clear fluid dripped from the tip.
"Damn it."
He threw an arm over his eyes and cursed under his breath. He looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole. Then, through his tightly pressed lips, a voice quieter than a whisper leaked out.
"...I can't come unless you fuck me."
It was a voice so tiny and trembling that no human device on Earth could have picked it up. But to Superman's ears, which could hear a heartbeat from across the cosmos, Bruce's lewd, embarrassed confession echoed as loud and clear as a bell through the cavernous cave.
That's right. This was the actual reason Bruce Wayne had been avoiding Clark Kent so terribly for the past week.
In truth, Bruce had a sex drive every bit as intense as Clark's. Sure, his lower half took a beating trying to keep up with the stamina and raw physicality of the Kryptonian, but every time Clark fucked him, he felt blinding ecstasy. Even though he had never bottomed before, every time Clark's fat cock pounded inside his hole, he came hands-free, spilling cum everywhere. Being taken from behind filled him up inside and brought him so much pleasure that he had been thoroughly enjoying his sex life for the past month.
The real problem started exactly one month into their relationship. At that time, Superman had to leave Earth for ten whole hours to resolve an emergency diplomatic dispute on an alien planet.
Waking up in his bed at the Manor that morning, Bruce realized Clark wasn't beside him. Having his ass pounded several times every morning had left his body feeling empty down there. Heat flared up inside him and made him crave a good, hard orgasm. Since Clark was still hours away from returning, he decided to masturbate for the first time in a while.
Lying face down on the bed with a thin sheet draped over him, Bruce began humping his hips. Pressing his chest and stomach flat against the bed, he popped his hips up to grind into the sheets and rubbed his shaft against the mattress. He reached down, wrapped his hand around his cock and stroked up and down. As he picked up the pace, clear pre-cum welled from the tip, coating his shaft as intense sensations surged toward the edge. He ground the head hard against the sheets while stroking his cock faster and faster. His thighs shook as he neared the peak, but for some reason, the cum right at the edge refused to break. The urge to erupt was right there, but it felt locked behind a shut door. Panicking, he stroked even faster and groaned as he twisted his hips and rubbed the tip raw.
Yet the only thing pouring out from the tip was clear fluid. The cum refused to show up. Trapped on the edge with no way out, he felt a painful, throbbing frustration bring tears to his eyes. His cock was rock hard and his tip twitched as if he were coming, but without spilling it, a sharp ache filled his belly and groin instead of release. Soaking the pillow with sweat and tears, he ground his hips desperately, but in the end he couldn't come, left lying there gasping in terrible frustration.
After the most humiliating masturbation failure of his entire life, Bruce staggered into the bathroom, overwhelmed by shame. He turned the shower handle to cold. Standing under the icy spray, he tried everything to cool off his burning lower half and bring down his rock-hard cock. But the freezing water only chilled his skin. Cut off right at the edge, his cock stayed painfully hard even under the cold spray, as pre-cum mixed with water droplets and ran down his thighs.
In that moment, standing under the shower stream, a chill ran straight down his spine.
Am I... never going to be able to come on my own again...?
For Bruce Wayne, Gotham's notorious playboy who had only ever been into women his whole life, realizing his body now required getting fucked from behind just to come was a staggering shock. Facing the reality that his identity and pride had been thoroughly remade by a giant Kryptonian cock wiped his mind blank. But identity crisis aside, the heavy, painful ache pooling in his balls and lower belly from not coming was unbearable. The aching, throbbing pain down there made even standing still uncomfortable.
"...Fuck."
In the end, Bruce turned off the shower and slicked his wet hair back. He wrapped a bathrobe loosely around himself. Cracking the bedroom door open, he glanced down the hallway. If Alfred caught him like this, there would be no way to explain his pathetic state. He slipped down the hall quickly, avoiding Alfred's sight. He hurried through the secret passage behind the grandfather clock and went down into the Batcave. Barely covered by the hem of his robe, he moved hurriedly down to the cave floor. Reaching the medical area, he immediately began digging through the medical equipment cabinet. The pain in his lower body was driving him crazy. In the corner of a drawer, he grabbed a smooth metal probe used for physical therapy scans. Compared to Clark's cock, it was ridiculously thin, but he had no other choice right now.
Bruce squeezed a glob of lube onto his palm and rubbed it over his entrance. For the past month, Clark had always taken his time loosening him up with slick fingers, making his own attempts feel clumsy and awkward. He slathered the end of the metal probe with lube too. He gripped the edge of the medical cot with one hand, bent over, and pushed his hips back. Slowly and carefully, he pushed it inside him.
The slick metal rod slid inside with a cold, foreign feel and penetrated his wet walls. The reality that he was using a metal probe to fuck his own ass made his face burn with intense shame. But he gritted his teeth and pushed the rod in as deep as it would go. Slowly moving his wrist, he began thrusting it in and out. Lube squelched as the probe scraped against his walls, but his brow only furrowed deeper with every slide.
It felt... hollow.
It wasn't this thin, it wasn't this smooth, and it certainly wasn't this small. He felt none of that overwhelming fullness he got when Clark's cock packed every corner of his hole, pressing against his walls. It felt as if every piece of sensitive flesh inside him had been shaped and tamed exclusively for Clark's massive cock. On top of that, the power of a human hand thrusting a rod couldn't even compare to the brutal force of a Kryptonian pounding him from behind.
Frustration and craving made him pant heavily. Instead of pleasure, an empty void filled his insides. His legs gave out and he collapsed face-down onto the medical cot. Lying there, he shoved the rod in and out like a madman. Every time he slammed the probe deep inside, his hard cock squeezed uncomfortably between his stomach and the cot as it rubbed against the sheets. Trapped between teasing pressure in front and empty stimulation behind, he let out pained groans.
"Nngh, Clark...!"
Unable to reach the edge, he yanked the metal probe out of his ass and threw it aside. His entrance was left dripping with lube, throbbing empty and unsatisfied. He unknotted his robe and retreated into the shower room deeper in the Batcave, where he locked the door. He stood under the freezing water for hours, trying to wash away the embarrassment and the burning heat down below. Only after hours under the ice-cold spray did his erection finally subside enough for him to step out. Swallowing his irritation, he washed the lube off the metal probe until it was spotless and put it back in the cabinet. His hands trembled slightly as he organized the gear.
Honestly, it scared him.
It wasn't just that he needed to get fucked to come. It meant that unless Clark Kent shoved his monstrous cock into his ass, he might never be able to come on his own again for the rest of his life. The feeling that his own body was completely out of his control and bound to someone else filled him with a quiet dread. He wanted control back over his own body. So he was dodging Clark whenever he tried to initiate anything. Because if he let Clark take him, he felt like he would be surrendering control of his body for good.
Instead, Bruce desperately tried to masturbate every time he took a shower alone. After locking the bathroom door and turning the water on high, he clamped a hand over his mouth for fear that Clark's super hearing might pick up the sound. With his other hand, he stroked his stiff, aching cock hard and fast. He rubbed up the shaft and worked over the tip, begging for a release. But the result was always the same. Only clear fluid wet his palm, while his semen stayed trapped right at the edge, refusing to spill out even a single drop. Every failed attempt brought a stabbing ache and a hollow emptiness down below. His body had been pounded by Clark every day for a month, coming multiple times a day. Having that same body go a whole week without reaching a single orgasm was insane stress and frustration built up inside him to the point of exploding. The unbearable frustration of his unresolved arousal made him pickier, touchier, stricter.
But there was no way Batman, a man whose pride went beyond the stars, could bring himself to tell his boyfriend the humiliating truth: "Your cock tamed my ass so badly that I can't even come on my own anymore." Of course, Bruce had never intended to tell him what embarrassing misery he had been going through. But the moment Bruce's quiet confession - I can't come unless you fuck me - hit Clark's ears, his mind drained of all thought.
Thump-thump! Thump-thump!
Clark's heart started pounding so hard. The pent-up lust from the past week, his overwhelming love for Bruce, and the incredible reality that the hardest man on Earth had been rewritten to only come around his cock made him lose his mind.
Clark yanked his suit pants and underwear down in one motion, and his giant, hot Kryptonian cock sprang out. Without hesitating, he pressed his thick head straight against Bruce's entrance, which was glistening with pre-cum. As he felt the huge, burning heat press against him, Bruce hitched, his eyes flying wide open. Clark grabbed his thighs, hauled them up against his chest, and plunged into him in a single, ruthless thrust.
Bruce's body, normally, could only swallow half of Clark's length. But with Kryptonian power forcing the issue, the thick shaft crushed past every bit of internal resistance and sank deep inside. In that moment, Clark felt his tip push right through a tight inner ring deep inside him. Surprised, Clark flipped on his X-ray vision for a second to look inside.
To his shock, his cock had crushed directly against Bruce's sensitive prostate and breached right past it, taking every single inch right to the hilt.
At Bruce's loud, shattered scream of pleasure, Clark quickly snapped off his X-ray vision. Lying on the monitor desk, he threw his head back, his spine arched like a bow as his entire body convulsed. His legs shook violently, his flushed face and chest heaving with desperate gasps.
And in that exact moment, Bruce's cock, which couldn't come no matter how hard Clark had stroked and rubbed it just moments ago, pulsed red at the tip and began shooting thick, white cum everywhere. The canal that had been shut tight for a whole week burst open, spraying cum like a fountain across his stomach and chest. Seeing him erupt in semen from just one deep thrust completely fried Clark's brain.
"Bruce...! Haa, Bruce...!"
Clark began pounding wildly into his deepest depths. Every time his cock drove deep inside him, slamming against his walls, Bruce was crushed under ecstasy so intense it brought tears to his eyes. With every deep thrust of Clark's head against his sweet spot, he was practically pissing out white cum, coming over and over.
Bruce's stomach and chest were already splattered and smeared with cum. As the orgasms kept coming without stopping, he trembled in full-body spasms, rolling his eyes back as whimpers poured from his mouth. Watching him like that, Clark felt pure bliss, like he owned everything he wanted. Reaching a peak of excitement, he leaned down over the desk and captured Bruce's lips in a deep kiss. As he loved Bruce so much and felt so good, Clark pushed his large tongue way too far into Bruce's mouth. The hot tip of his wet tongue poked straight against the back of Bruce's throat. Given the sudden gag reflex, Bruce's throat clamped down hard around Clark's tongue. And in that exact second, his walls tightened and locked around Clark's shaft. The compression of Bruce's mouth clamping his tongue and the squeezing pressure of his walls gripping his cock reached Clark at the exact same time. As he felt that intoxicating squeeze from both ends, a thrill ran straight down his spine. He pushed his tongue even deeper into his mouth while ruthlessly grinding into those tight walls, pounding his cock inside with wild abandon.
Bruce gagged around Clark's tongue up top while shooting cum like water down below. Choking from both ends and near the brink of passing out, the liquid coming from his tip thinned out into translucent fluid from continuous orgasms. As his eyes rolled back, on the verge of losing consciousness from pleasure and lack of oxygen, Clark pulled his lips away in a hurry. He coughed wildly, gasping for air as his chest heaved up and down.
"I'm sorry, Bruce! I-I got carried away...!"
Not that Clark was going to stop thrusting here. He grabbed both sides of Bruce's plush ass cheeks and squeezed them firmly together. Forcing the cheeks together tightened Bruce's walls around Clark's thick shaft. In that tight grip, he snapped his hips forward, slamming into him hard a few more times. His huge head ground through the compressed walls, repeatedly mashing against his prostate. As sensitive inner flesh rubbed raw under the pressure, Bruce threw his head back with a high-pitched moan and thin fluid squirted out once more from the trembling tip of his cock. Seeing Bruce not just needing him to come, but coming over and over simply because Clark was thrusting inside him made him feel incredible. A joy greater than any heroic accomplishment flooded his whole body.
Finally reaching his own climax, Clark drove his hips forward, burying his cock as deep as it would go inside Bruce's core. A massive load of hot Kryptonian cum flooded into his walls. As he felt the endless heat pouring deep inside his belly, Bruce's hips trembled as he gripped Clark's shoulders tight. When the long orgasm finally finished, he slowly pulled his cock out of Bruce's stuffed body.
As the shaft pulled out, Bruce twitched his hips at the friction. From the opening where Clark's cock had just withdrawn, the load that had been poured inside him began gushing out. Thick cum trickled down the crease of his ass, messily coating the top of the Batcomputer main desk. His entrance was still stretched wide and dripping, while his stomach and ass were a sticky mess of his own cum mixed with Clark's.
He had hit multiple orgasms in a row while being taken so deep. His legs shook weakly, beads of sweat clinging to his face. As Clark looked down at him, a surge of love filled his chest, and that made him smile. The anxiety that had weighed on him for the past week vanished without a trace. He pulled his suit pants back up and reached out for Bruce, whose lower half was drenched in cum.
"Bruce."
He scooped Bruce up like he weighed nothing. Wrapping an arm around his waist, he pulled him close and pressed his chest against his own.
"Stop it, Clark... I'm tired..."
Bruce mumbled weakly, burying his cheek into Clark's shoulder, but Clark just grinned brightly in pure excitement. He started showering his sweat-streaked forehead, flushed cheeks, wet lashes, and soft lips with a barrage of affectionate kisses.
"Bruce, I'm sorry. And thank you."
"...Thanks for what."
"I made things hard on you because I was so clueless. But I get it now."
Clark cupped his cheek, looking at him with the sweetest, fondest gaze in the world.
"From now on, I will make sure you come properly every single day."
It was a totally devoted, absolute declaration of affection from his alien boyfriend.
At those words, Bruce's face flushed a fiery red with embarrassment all over again, but Clark's chest felt so warm and comforting that he couldn't bring himself to push him away. He just grumbled.
"...Stop talking nonsense. Go take a shower first."
"Yeah. Let's take a shower together."
Still holding Bruce bridal-style in his arms, Clark floated gently into the air, happily flying off toward the shower room.
The next morning, Clark woke up just as soft sunlight filtered in through the window. Right in front of him, Bruce was sound asleep on the grand bed, breathing softly. Messy black hair, a chest rising and falling with every quiet breath, and a peaceful face completely free of his usual sharp tension. Clark had no idea how long it had been since he last woke up next to Bruce like this. A wave of happiness filled his chest. His body floated two inches off the bed without him even realizing it. Barely controlling his hovering body, he pulled him into a tight hug.
Squeezed in the tight bear hug, Bruce shifted uncomfortably in his arms. He pressed a sweet kiss to his cheek and slowly drifted his gaze down beneath the covers. Careful not to wake him, he gently pulled back the silk sheet. Exposed under the sunlight was his bare lower half, revealing his firm, scarred thighs and narrow waist. Clark grabbed his thighs and carefully spread them wide apart. And the moment he checked his entrance between his legs, Clark's eyes went wide.
Bruce's hole gaped wide open.
Usually, even after getting pounded all night long, his entrance would only be left half-open at best by morning. But perhaps because Clark's massive cock had plunged straight into his deepest depths yesterday, it gaped completely open, showing off its pink inner flesh. Tamed so thoroughly by his size, it twitched wetly, as if ready to take his cock at any moment. His cock had opened him up completely.
Clark saw it with his own eyes and felt dizzy with joy. The same partner who had been dodging him just yesterday was now wide open for him down to his deepest core! Unable to contain his emotions, he crawled back up his body and peppered his cheeks, forehead, nose, and lips with a barrage of passionate kisses.
"Clark...?"
Under the storm of warm kisses raining down over his face, his eyelashes fluttered as he half-awoke from sleep. Heavy with sleep, he mumbled, lazy and grumpy.
"What're you doing..."
Ignoring his sleepy question, Clark pulled him tight into his arms. His cock was already hard from a combination of morning wood and the sight of his gaping hole. Clark grabbed one of Bruce's thighs with a hand and pulled it up slightly. Then he pressed the head of his erect shaft against his entrance, rubbing it back and forth. Thanks to all the fluid Bruce had spilled yesterday, his hole was still wet and glistening.
Holding that position, he slowly pushed the head inside. In the past, he would have felt the firm resistance of tight walls, requiring him to spend a long time loosening him up first. But this time was different. As soon as his head pressed into the entrance, his shaft slid in smooth without the slightest bit of resistance. As he felt himself swallowed whole, Clark's heart swelled even more, his desire surging uncontrollably. To keep him from shifting around in his sleep, Clark locked his upper body tight in his arms. Then he snapped his hips forward, plunging all the way in with one thrust. Because his hole gaped wide open, Clark's massive cock crushed right over Bruce's prostate and sank straight into his deepest core without hitting any obstacles.
The overwhelming rush of pleasure filling his insides to the brim made half-asleep Bruce gasp, his eyes rolling back. He gripped the silk bedsheets until his knuckles turned white. As his prostate and core were crushed hard from the inside, Bruce's cock began leaking without even being touched.
On the bed filled with morning sunlight, Bruce stayed trapped in Clark's arms, roping cum across his own stomach first thing in the morning as full-body spasms shook him. Clark showered sweet kisses again over his soft cheek and flushed lips. At the same time, he began pounding into his ass with a smooth yet fast rhythm. The sensation of his head repeatedly striking his deep sweet spot was wildly intoxicating.
Held close in his arms, Bruce shivered, a high-pitched moan slipping from his mouth. Under the fast, precise strokes pounding him, Bruce's cock shot cum without a pause. With every drive of Clark's hips, white fluid spurted out and spread messily across Bruce's firm stomach and the silk sheets. Beneath his large frame, his entire body was shaking through orgasm after orgasm.
Clark paused his movements for a moment, captivated by how incredibly beautiful his lover looked. The aftershocks of continuous orgasms kept his walls and body twitching around him. He was heaving for breath and his eyes glistened through a haze of pleasure. Unable to contain his overflowing love, Clark nuzzled his face deeply against his neck.
"Bruce... you look so beautiful like this."
"Mmm... shut up..."
His cheeks burning hot and red, Bruce raised a trembling hand and tried to push Clark's handsome face away. But finding even that attempt ridiculously cute, Clark tensed his thighs and slammed his cock with a heavy thrust. That deep penetration drained all the strength from Bruce's arms and his hand fell limply onto the sheet. As his prostate got crushed once more, Bruce shivered all over, spurting again. The fluid, already thinned from multiple orgasms, poured out from his pulsing tip like water, soaking his stomach.
Clark didn't stop his hips. As he drove deep inside Bruce with smooth, rapid thuds, he brought his face right up to his ear. Breathing hot air against his skin, he murmured in a sweet, sticky voice.
"Your inside feels like it was made specifically for my cock... I just want to stay inside you and fuck you like this forever..."
The Kryptonian boyfriend's honeyed, filthy confession tickled his ear, but with his brain completely melted from continuous ecstasy, he was in no shape to form a real answer. His glazed eyes rolled back, drool trailing from the corner of his lips as he let out a dazed whimper. Shivering on the bed as he mindlessly soaked in the pleasure, Bruce looked completely tamed by Clark's cock.
Later that afternoon, having finally finished his 'backlogged work' at the Manor, Batman returned to duty on the Watchtower. Rustling his black cape as he walked down the main corridor, he looked dignified and imposing as usual at first glance. The firm jawline and tightly set lips were those of the Dark Knight who made all criminals tremble. Unfortunately, his physical condition was nowhere near as flawless as his appearance.
The aftermath of having Clark's massive cock drive deep inside him over and over since morning, making him spill cum repeatedly, took a heavy toll. From the waist down, he felt floaty, sore, and weak, and because his hole had been opened and tamed to Clark's exact shape, his inner thighs lacked strength. He used every ounce of willpower to maintain his trademark disciplined stride, but the heavy ache lingering behind made his walk slightly stiff and unnatural.
Just then, he bumped into Diana walking down the hallway with a tablet in hand. Blessed with the sharp senses of an Amazon warrior, she immediately caught the tiny imbalance in his posture and gait as he approached. On top of that, the freezing aura that had terrified the League for days was nowhere to be found. In its place was a distinctly languid, bashful mood.
A knowing, graceful smile curved the corner of her lips. It was easy to picture how the prideful man who had been stitching his own wound alone in the medbay yesterday had finally worked things out with Superman. Blocking his path, she offered a fond, mischievous grin and spoke softly.
"I see you two made up."
At those words, Batman came to a dead stop. His face flushed bright red under the cowl in an instant. The coldest hero in the world had been caught red-handed by that one line. Unable to handle the intense embarrassment, he whipped his head away to dodge her gaze and grunted.
"Don't forget the meeting in ten minutes."
Giving Diana no time to answer, Batman swished his cape and quickly retreated down the hallway. He maintained a slow, guarded pace, but it was still the fastest retreat he had ever made.
Ten minutes later, the regular Justice League meeting began in the main briefing room. Sitting right next to the head of the long round table, Batman was unusually quiet and subdued. With his lower body sore and languid, simply sitting in his chair left a lingering pleasure and exhaustion. He didn't even have the energy to scowl, let alone reprimand anyone. The clearest proof of this came during Aquaman's presentation. When Arthur stepped up to the podium and pulled up a monitor, the topic he presented was completely minor and nowhere near a world-ending threat.
"This is a proposal for commercial shipping lane adjustments near the Atlantic Trench. It overlaps with the migration route of the rare deep-sea bioluminescent anglerfish. We need a League-level detour mandate to protect the species during spawning season."
Compared to major crises involving Earth's fate, it was a totally minor matter, but for the King of the Seas, it was serious and important. Normally, Batman would have shut him down zero point one seconds after he opened his mouth. A cold 'Handle that with the Atlantean guard. Don't waste League resources' would have been the expected response.
Yet today, Batman shockingly didn't object once. He just sat quietly and listened to his fish relocation plan to the very end. When Arthur put forward the approval request, he even tapped a digital signature onto his datapad without a word. As they watched this bizarre scene from across the table, Hal and Barry's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets.
"Dude... Barry, did you just see that?" Hal lowered his voice and whispered into Barry's ear in shock. "Spooky just listened to Aquaman talk about deep-sea fish and didn't bark at him... He didn't even object!"
"This is insane..." Barry whispered back. "Normally he'd have written him up and threatened to send him to Antarctica!"
Their eyes naturally drifted to Superman sitting right next to Batman. He looked at Batman with a smile as if he were soaking up all the sunshine in the world. A warm golden glow practically beamed off him, heating up the whole briefing room.
When the meeting wrapped up, the League members filed out one by one, stunned by the unbelievable peace. Batman sat still in his chair as he quietly organized mission files and digital pads. Clark watched him fondly, waiting by his side. Right then, Hal and Barry moved at lightning speed.
"Big Blue, a word."
"Huh? What-"
They grabbed him by both arms. Before Batman could say anything, they pushed Superman out of the briefing room and hauled him away. Cornering him behind a hallway bend, Hal stepped right up to his face.
"What the hell did you do to make Spooky so tame?"
Clark blushed and let out an awkward chuckle. "Haha... Well, Hal..."
"Don't 'haha' me! Yesterday he looked ready to execute us all! Today Arthur talks about fish, and Bat just signs off on it without a fight? Does that make any sense to you?"
"He's right, Clark! What did you do to him last night?"
Hal and Barry grabbed him by his broad shoulders and cape and shook him back and forth to demand an answer. But they were dealing with the Man of Steel, the strongest being in the universe. His massive, solid frame didn't budge even a single millimeter. Instead, their own arms vibrated like jackhammers from trying to shake him. He just laughed sheepishly as he watched the two of them break a sweat over trying to move him.
"Take it easy, guys. I just talked to Bruce yesterday and cleared up the misunderstanding. So I-"
"Superman."
A low, gravelly voice spoke up out of nowhere from behind the dark shadows of the hallway corner.
"JESUS!"
Hal and Barry jumped three feet into the air in shock, instantly yanking their hands off Clark's shoulders. Neither of them had heard Batman standing there, not a single footstep or rustle of fabric giving him away. He appeared out of thin air, standing like a ghost right behind them with his dark cape pooling around his boots.
Bathed in a cold aura, Batman didn't scold them. Instead, he slowly reached out his hand. Right in front of the three of them, his leather-gloved hand grabbed Superman by the wrist.
"Let's go."
A quiet, irresistible command.
Feeling the cool, firm grip on his wrist, Clark froze on the spot, his mind going completely blank. Never in his life had Batman initiated public affection on the Watchtower. This was a partner who always drew a strict line between private feelings and official business. Yet here he was, in the middle of a Watchtower hallway, right in front of their fellow heroes, taking him by the wrist and leading him away.
To Clark, that single gesture felt like a notoriously feisty alley cat who had run away for years finally opening its heart, flopping over on its back, and offering its soft belly for pets.
Clark's stunned expression transformed into a beaming smile. Bursting with emotion, he let himself be pulled along by his wrist, following obediently right behind Batman. Left behind in the hallway, Hal and Barry stood frozen and watched their backs in complete disbelief.
"Uh... what did I just see? Did Bats just take Big Blue by the hand and leave?" Barry muttered in confusion, innocent and clueless as ever.
Just then, Hal's eyes narrowed as he watched Batman's retreating back further down the hall. This was Hal Jordan, a guy with a colorful dating history who had been around the block a few times. With experienced eyes, he picked up on Batman's lower body movement and gait beneath his black cape.
Batman was trying hard to keep his composure, but his stride and hip movements were slightly stiff and off. His inner thighs lacked strength, and he shifted his weight carefully as if his core were deeply sore. It was the blatantly obvious aftermath of someone whose lower half had been utterly wrecked after a wildly intense night.
In that instant, every clue scattered in Hal's brain clicked together like a bolt of lightning.
"...Holy shit." Hal cursed under his breath, completely dumbfounded. He rubbed a hand over his face and let out a breathless, dry laugh.
"Superman, you crazy bastard."
He could only shake his head in pure awe at the Kryptonian boyfriend's terrifying stamina, having managed to thoroughly tame Gotham's strictest, toughest Bat in bed.
"Huh? Hal, what is it?" Barry blinked, still missing the picture. Hal just gave his shoulder a pitying pat.
Off in the distance, held firmly by the wrist, Superman hovered a few inches off the ground with a goofy, smitten grin, as he floated happily right beside Batman.