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That's A No-No	By : LuciferxDamien Category: DC Verse Comics > Justice League Views: 5324 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Superman or Batman and I make no money from these writings.

Chapter List
- 1-That's A No-No
- 1
Author: LuciferxDamien (ToInsanitysEnd)
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Clark/Bruce
Genre: Romance/PWP
Summary: Office sex! Or, as my belurved Renny put it: trying-to-be-quiet-while-Superman-fucks-my-ass-in-the-broom-closet-at-his-office sex.
Disclaimer: I can only wish they were mine~
Author’s Note: Written for WFGE prompt F39: 1. They get in a quickie.
2. Bruce begging in some form. Verbally.
3. Clark tops and dominates.
4. Dirty pillow talk.
5. Office/work sex
If any or all of this is present in some form within the fic, I'm all sun shine.
And I might add that while I was writing this, Clark and Bruce were in each others’ undies, making my life hard. In a non-sexual way.
Warnings: Sexy sex~
Fandom: Superman/Batman – Comicverse
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Bruce managed to slip into the newsroom of the Daily Planet unnoticed. No easy feat considering just about every single reporter in the building knew his face. But he was only after one: the very tall, mild-mannered reporter with thick glasses who was just returning to his desk.
He moved past large windows letting in the late afternoon sun, people rushing around as he walked to the other side of the room. Bruce stood behind Clark, smiling to himself as he watched the reporter fast at work. Clark was so cute when he was concentrating, chewing on the end of his pen with his brow furrowed.
“Clark,” the billionaire rasped in the journalist’s ear.
“Bruce…” Clark responded in what sounded very much like stern annoyance. He resisted the urge to huff as he flipped the page of his article. “Why are you here? In Metropolis?”
That didn’t seem like a very nice way to greet someone; the reporter didn’t even look at Bruce. “Can’t I visit the newspaper I own?”
“We both know that’s not why you’re here.” Clark marked out a few words and made a quick note, trying to focus on his paper.
“Can I visit a friend, then?” Bruce smiled, though Clark still hadn’t bothered to turn around.
Bruce seemed—chipper. That could only mean one thing. “Bruce, I have to get this done.”
Clark was being cranky; that had to mean Perry was on his case about something. “Well, if you’re struggling, sometimes the best thing to do is take a little break.” Bruce smirked, placing a playful hand on Clark’s shoulder.
“No, Bruce. Not right now.” It was never ‘a little break’ when the Playboy Prince dropped by like this.
“A little bit of hooky never hurt.” Bruce started kneading the reporter’s tense shoulder.
Clark sighed, tempted to brush the hand away, but he didn’t want to upset Bruce. “You can afford to play hooky whenever you want, but I can’t.”
“It’s not like you’ll lose your job. You know I won’t let that happen.” Bruce ran his fingers lightly down the back of Clark’s neck.
‘Damn Bruce and his talented fingers…’ “If you let me finish my article, we can go play ‘hooky’ all you want.”
“But that could be hours from now…” the billionaire said, almost whining. His fingers trailed higher, playing in inhumanly soft black hair.
“Bruce…” Clark used his stern, Superman voice, not that Bruce ever listened when he was determined to get something. And the billionaire was definitely not listening right now as fingers drifted to tease at his ear. How the hell had no one noticed the Prince of Gotham was in the building yet? Especially Lois. That woman seemed to have ‘Bruce Wayne-dar’. The journalist turned his head, finally making eye contact.
“Hmm?” Bruce just smiled innocently.
“Brucie…” Clark sighed to himself. Bruce was trying to be cute and coy. Brucie, in all his Playboy Prince of Gotham splendor. “I thought it was against the Daily Planet’s policy to sleep with employees.”
“I can just fire you for the next ten minutes or so if you’re so worried about that policy.”
Clark snorted. “You’d have to fire me permanently to really enforce that policy, you know.”
Bruce shrugged. “Don’t bosses get to violate the rules?”
“Yes, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’m on a deadline.” Bruce’s word choice wasn’t lost on Clark, but he still turned back around, attempting to read through his article.
“Well, judging by the fact that Perry has made you redo your article three times, why don’t you just…” Bruce started massaging both of the reporter’s shoulders, “put it down for awhile? You need to relax.” He looked around the room, finding it peculiar that Lois hadn’t approached him yet. In fact, it seemed as if no one even noticed he was there. Excellent.
Now wasn’t that something coming from Bruce’s mouth. Batman never relaxed or took time off when he was stressed out. But the massage felt wonderful; Clark had been hunched over his desk all day working to perfect his article to Perry’s liking. Wait, how did… “Bruce, why do you know that Perry has made me redo this three times?” He looked over his shoulder, up at the billionaire, brow quirked. “How long have you been here?”
Bruce continued working the reporter’s shoulders for a few minutes, saying nothing and ignoring Clark’s upturned gaze. Then, without warning, he stepped to the side of the chair and dropped down to his knees. “You’re trying too hard.” He grinned.
Oh Rao…Bruce was grinning. And naturally, the entire bullpen seemed to realize that Bruce Wayne was in the building right then. Kneeling next to Clark Kent. Gripping his tweed-clad thigh. Clark felt his face turning red, but the Playboy Prince was unabashed. “That’s not…Bruce, no! I have to work.” He tried to whisper, but found his voice higher than it should have been.
How typical of everyone to notice Bruce the second he didn’t want attention. Well, a little thing like an audience of reporters wasn’t going to deter him. The billionaire stroked Clark’s knee lightly with one hand, the other resting on an unnaturally warm thigh. “Mmm…”
Clark tried not to panic as the room grew quieter and quieter. The last thing he needed was people asking what was going on between him and Bruce Wayne! Especially Lois! Bruce would go away—if he just ignored him hard enough. The journalist turned his attention back to his paper, trying to forget the strong hand on his knee and the other one sliding to the inside of his thigh, but when Cat Grant walked by, all hope was lost. She whistled loudly, drawing the attention of anyone that hadn’t seen Bruce yet. Great…
Cat stood behind Bruce smirking, considering what she could do. Clark was frozen, staring at her, but the billionaire—why, he seemed almost at ease. She stepped forward and leaned down to whisper into Bruce’s ear. “I happen to know the storage room is vacant now.” She winked at Clark and sauntered off, her heels clacking loudly.
Bruce smirked up at the journalist, who was looking positively mortified. “You hear that?” His tone was light, voice soft yet sultry.
Oh like Bruce really had to ask if he heard. And the Playboy Prince’s tone was far too…cheeky; Clark did not like when Bruce was cheeky. He did his best to ignore all the eyes he felt on his back from fellow co-workers and faced forward again. The billionaire was still playing with his leg, far from giving up, but Clark was determined to finish his article! Even if the embarrassment later killed him. Which, judging by the look plastered on Brucie’s face, it most likely would.
Bruce used his nails on Clark’s knee, starting to get irritated with being ignored. “Clark…” he whispered, barely audible, but he knew the reporter could hear, and there was no way he could pretend he didn't. “Clark, I'm horny.”
That jolted Clark, blood rushing south despite his every attempt to keep it above borders. Again, he paid Bruce no heed, futilely reviewing the paltry amount of work he'd gotten done since Gotham’s Prince appeared. Whispers from co-workers floated by, but the journalist did his best to tune-out the gossip without breaking his pen. And thank Rao no one besides Cat was audacious enough to approach them.
“Clark!” Bruce gruffed, finding himself more and more agitated that the reporter was ignoring him so blatantly. It never took more than a little coaxing to get his man into the storeroom; Bruce was becoming impatient.
“How many times do I have to tell you ‘no’?” Clark whispered, finding himself pleased that the Playboy Prince was miffed.
“At least once more.” Bruce licked his lips. But, when he got no reaction to that, he slid his fingers up the inside of Clark’s thigh and teased at his stirring erection. The reporter was obviously aroused, so why was he being so goddamn difficult?! The billionaire snorted in agitation, glaring slightly.
Oh, Bruce was getting annoyed. Good. Clark leaned back, casting a sideways glance to the Playboy Prince on the floor; it was his turn to tease. He removed his glasses and pulled a soft cloth out of a drawer and began to clean his glasses, lazily.
Bruce felt his eye twitch. How…how could Clark just sit there and do such a delicate action while he was practically begging?! He huffed again, but the reporter just kept on cleaning his glasses. Such strong fingers handling fragile spectacles… “I'll suck you off right here, Clark.”
The journalist tensed, hoping no one else heard that; he always had a hard time knowing just what others could hear, what with his super-hearing. People were starting to return to their work, Clark noticed, so it didn’t seem anyone had heard his mouthy boyfriend; he relaxed, gaining confidence. The reporter languidly slid his glasses back on and grinned down at Bruce. The tables had turned in Clark’s favor, but he was afraid the billionaire would do what he said; Brucie was certainly brazen enough to do it.
“Please, Clark.” Bruce breathed, pleading, begging. He tugged childishly on the tweed trousers, just for effect.
Okay! That was enough of that; his Bat never said please. Clark quickly stood and hauled the billionaire up by the elbow; it was quite clear that he’d never get any work done until Bruce was satisfied. He gave him a stern look, which was returned with a bright, victorious smile. The journalist just shook his head and started pulling his impetuous boyfriend out of the room, gasps and giggles following. Then Bruce started dragging his feet, and Clark knew, he knew the Playboy Prince was just doing it to be annoying.
Just as the pair disappeared around the corner, Perry came rushing out of his office in search of Mr. Kent, but he was nowhere to be found. “Where on Earth has Kent gone?!” He yelled at no one in particular.
Cat stepped forward. “Oh Clark? I think he went to go blow off some steam.”
~ ~ ~
Angry, Clark slammed the billionaire against the door and attacked his mouth as he pulled the man’s tucked shirt out, not caring if his glasses pressed into Bruce’s nose uncomfortably. “How the hell did you know Perry made me redo my article three times?” He breathed, fumbling with the lock on the door, trying his hardest not to break it.
A cocksure grin ghosted over Bruce’s face before he kissed Clark on the lips. “I saw ‘3rd draft’ before you flipped the page.” He pushed the reporter’s shaking hand away from the knob and calmly locked the door. Poor Clark…he was so riled up he couldn’t even flip the lock.
Clark growled and caught Bruce’s lips again for a crushing kiss. He pushed away racing thoughts of all the flack he knew he’d get from his co-workers, forgot his article and just felt the man he loved respond to his every touch. He rucked his hands up Bruce’s sides, underneath his sumptuous, tailor-made suit jacket, feeling muscles tense reflexively beneath the rumpled silk of his shirt. The billionaire gasped sharply, hands tightening in the journalist’s hair, as Clark pressed his knee between his lover’s legs, Bruce’s cock stiffening against his steely thigh.
Glasses pressed into the bridge of the smaller man’s nose, but he just thrust his tongue harder against Clark’s. Warm fingers pinched his nipples with nearly bruising force, making Bruce bite at the reporter’s lips even as he moaned. One large hand cupped his cheek, the other on the back of his neck as the journalist pinned Bruce harder to the door. He slid his hands down Clark’s back until he was gripping firm buttocks. Shame such a nice ass was clad in cheap tweed.
Callused hands gave the journalist’s ass a hard squeeze and Clark moaned into his horny billionaire’s mouth. Teeth nipped at his invulnerable lips, exciting Clark further as he moved his hands to either side of Bruce’s head, flat-palmed on the door. The hands on his ass moved to his hips pressing him back slightly so Bruce could get to the reporter’s belt. Nimble fingers tugged Clark’s belt open and wrenched it out his slacks before dropping on the floor with a loud clatter, the Playboy Prince still kissing him ardently.
Bruce smirked against pliant lips, grabbing onto Clark’s firm ass again with one hand, the other fondling him through his tweed slacks. He gave him a hard squeeze and Clark, already half-hard, humped against his hand with a gasp. Bruce rubbed the reporter through his pants, feeling him grow harder before he brusquely opened Clark’s fly.
Strong fingers slid inside Clark’s briefs and wrapped around his still trapped cock. A low moan rumbled through the reporter, Bruce’s hand stroking him as pre-cum started to leak down his member. The billionaire pulled his hand away and Clark couldn’t contain his groan of disappointment. Bruce’s hands were on his hips again, pushing him back before he dropped to his knees; one moment Clark was in a heated lip-lock with his capricious lover, the next Bruce was out of his grip, leaving him gasping for more.
When he bought it, Bruce had purposely put plush carpet in the closets and storerooms of the Daily Planet, just for the occasions where he might find himself on his knees; nothing was more awful than giving head while kneeling on concrete. He ran his hands underneath Clark’s shirt and up his abdomen, teasing at his light treasure trail, then he wracked his nails down the reporter’s well-defined abs. Bruce hooked his fingers in the tweedy belt-loops, looking up into wide, expecting eyes before he yanked the trousers down and mouthed Clark’s large, straining erection through his cotton briefs.
For the second time today, Bruce was on his knees, though now, it was certainly more welcomed. Clark braced himself on the heavy wooden door, doing his best not to imprint his hands into the grain or knock it down with a simple twitch. Eager fingers slid into the waist-band of his briefs and pulled them down slowly until his erection sprang free; somehow Bruce had regained control. It really shouldn’t have been surprising, seeing as he was Batman.
“Mmm…” The Playboy Prince nuzzled the engorged cock before him, taking in the heady scent. Above him, Clark let out a soft sigh and Bruce lapped at the reporter’s heavy sac, getting a louder sigh. He sucked one ball into his mouth, and then the other; Bruce knew how much Clark enjoyed that. “I love your balls, Clark. So fucking big.” The billionaire tugged at the loose skin with his teeth, looking up to see that the journalist’s thick-rimmed glasses had slid down his nose, Clark hunched over now. “My big man…”
“Fuck, Bruce…” With an unsteady hand, the reporter reached down and thread it through thick hair. He wanted his control back and he urged Bruce to take his now fully hard cock into his mouth. The Playboy Prince, however, had no intention of giving Clark what he wanted as he felt a hot tongue teasing at his perineum. A moan escaped him despite wanting that hot mouth someplace else. “Bruce…Bruce, suck me.”
Strong fingers tightened in Bruce’s hair, pulling him back enough for the billionaire to look into glassy blue eyes. He smirked, finally caving to what the reporter wanted as he gripped Clark’s erection and pulled the foreskin down. Bruce ran his tongue from heavy balls to the tip of the journalist’s cock, making him shudder. He took the tip into the mouth and sucked on the velvety head, tasting sweet, Kryptonian pre-cum before swallowing down half of Clark.
“God, Bruce…” Clark moaned, trying his hardest not shove the Playboy Prince down on his cock, but even with all his practiced control, he couldn't stop his hips from surging forward slightly. He looked down, afraid he’d hurt Bruce, but he—he just had a salacious glimmer in his pale blue eyes. Clark bit his lip as the billionaire pulled back, swirling his tongue around the tip; he knew if Bruce kept that up, he wouldn't be lasting very long.
“Mmm, foreskin…” The billionaire stroked Clark a few times, watching the head disappear and reappear a few times before drawing the skin up. He dipped his tongue underneath Clark’s foreskin, then bit at it, the reporter’s hips jerking forward. “You like that, don’t you?”
“You’re such a tease,” Clark said, thighs starting to tremble as Bruce’s sharp teeth continued to torture his cock. “Cock tease…”
More Kryptonian-sweet pre-cum leaked onto Bruce’s tongue and this time, he took all of Clark’s thick cock into his throat. He moaned around the length, steel-blue eyes fixed on ocean-blue. He bobbed back and forth and brought a hand to fondle Clark’s sac, gaze never leaving the reporter’s.
“Oh god!” Clark said harshly. Bruce knew him so damn well…Teeth grazed along his length, making the reporter yelp and throw his head back. He took a shaky breath and looked over the frame of his glasses, back into Bruce’s knowing eyes.
Bruce deep-throated Clark and moaned, short hair scratching his nose. The journalist's eyes glazed over in that familiar way and he pulled off with a loud pop. “Cum Clark, cum for me.” He stroked the reporter hard and fast, sucking on his balls again. Clark thrust into his hand and Bruce couldn’t help a slight leer. He ran his tongue up the impressive length, sucking the tip in while still moving his hand up and down. “Cum all over my face, Clark.”
Clark pushed Bruce down onto his cock and let out a long, low groan as he face-fucked the billionaire with shallow thrusts. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He pulled his hand out of sweat-damp hair and pinched his own nipple through his shirt, afraid to touch Bruce anymore. Still braced on the door, he felt his fingers curling into the dense wood, unable to contain his strength anymore. “I’m-I’m so close, Bruce!”
The billionaire sucked harder, twisting his fist, listening to all of the journalist’s moans and gasps. Suddenly, Clark went stiff, all libidinous noises caught up in his throat. Bruce focused on the tip, teasing the foreskin with his teeth while he fisted the shaft hard until honey-sweet cum gushed into his mouth hot and fast.
“Goddamnit!” Clark cried out, his fingers nearly going through the door as he came in his lover’s mouth.
Bruce swallowed as quickly as he could, but Clark always came so much. Cum dribbled down his chin and he pulled back, milking the reporter’s cock as warm stickiness shot all over his face. The billionaire grinned and stuck his tongue out to catch some. “Haaah…You taste like sunshine, Clark.”
“God…Oh god…GOD!” Clark nearly screamed; he may have been Clark Kent, Kansas farm-boy, but he couldn’t deny that he liked taking cum-shots on his boyfriend’s face.
“You can just call me ‘Bruce’,” the Playboy Prince said, tone vainglorious as thick, white droplets dripped off his chin onto the lapels of his black suit jacket.
Clark gave a jagged laugh, unable to get his breathing under control; Bruce could be so snarky and pompous. He watched the billionaire lick his lips and wipe cum off his cheek before sucking it off his fingers. The reporter smiled, scooping the stickiness from Bruce’s cheek, making the Playboy Prince lap it off.
Bruce let the journalist finish cleaning his face and feeding him every last drop of Clark’s sticky-sweet cum. He grabbed the reporter’s wrist and continued to suck on long, bronzed fingers, eyes locked on Kryptonian blues. Clark was still half-hard and his cock twitched as the billionaire made loud sucking noises. Bruce palmed the journalist’s balls roughly, fingers caressing Clark’s perineum.
Blunt nails scrapped and stroked the smooth skin behind the reporter’s balls, making Clark moan. He felt blood rushing to his loins, cock growing hard again as Bruce’s fingers prodded his entrance. Clark quickly pulled his hand from the billionaire’s mouth, then grabbed onto Bruce’s exquisite silk tie, forcing his tease of a lover to look at him. “I don’t think so, Bruce,” he said in a gruff voice, righting his glasses. “You’ve teased me enough today, Mr. Wayne.” Clark hauled Bruce up by his tie, then flipped him around and slammed him up against the door.
“I have been quite naughty today, haven’t I?” The Playboy Prince let the delectation of being manhandled wash over him; he did so enjoy Clark being forcible. The journalist ripped Bruce’s jacket off, then his big hands wrapped around to tug at his expensive leather belt.
“Very,” Clark whispered in his misbehaved lover’s ear, yanking posh black slacks down. He pulled Bruce’s hips back, making the billionaire brace himself on the door.
“Just what did you have in mind, Superman?” Bruce practically purred. He widened his stance, happy to have his erection finally free. There was a rush of air, then heard the snap of a tube being opened. Cold, slick fingers played at his tight pucker, making the Playboy Prince shudder.
“Fucking you absolutely senseless came to mind.” Clark pushed his middle finger inside of Bruce and loosened his tie with his free hand and unbuttoned his shirt. He reached around, running his hand underneath the billionaire’s silky shirt, fingers caressing scars and finding new bruises that made Bruce hiss in pain.
“A-add another one,” Bruce stuttered out while pushing back on Clark’s hand. The reporter obliged, roughly inserting a second digit, making the Playboy Prince bite his lip to keep from crying out; he may have liked teasing Clark in the newsroom, but he didn’t exactly want someone finding them.
The reporter fingered Bruce hard and ran his hand through his treasure trail, thicker than his own, before grasping the Playboy Prince’s cock. Bruce groaned and Clark pulled his fingers out, then pushed them back in, glasses sliding down.
“C-Clark…” The reporter withdrew his fingers again and Bruce gasped at the loss. His breath hitched in anticipation as he felt Clark’s thick, slicked up cock circle around his entrance, but the reporter never thrust in. He turned to face Clark the best he could, face warm and flushed now. “Come on Superman, fuck my ass!”
“Sorry, Superman doesn’t work at the Daily Planet. Clark Kent does,” he said while pushing his glasses back up.
“Clark…” The journalist stopped his teasing, Bruce feeling pressure at his hole. He pressed the side of his head against the door, right hand moving up to rest in the dents that Clark had made. He smiled to himself, knowing he must’ve driven the reporter crazy to leave such defined marks in the wood. “Fuck me hard, Clark.”
“Oh, I will.” He shoved his cock into Bruce’s tight, hot ass with ease. The Playboy Prince cried out, tightening reflexively around his member. Clark did his best to let Bruce relax, stroking his cock and whispering in his ear, “Relax, Bruce…you can take me.”
“Haaah…” The wood of the door was smooth against the billionaire’s face, his eyes screwed shut as he tried to concentrate on anything but the burning sensation of being filled so forcibly. The hand around his cock began to move, taking away some of the pain. “You-you can move…”
“Mmm…” Clark kissed Bruce’s neck and bit his ear. Despite what the Playboy Prince had said, Bruce hadn’t relaxed in the slightest. “If you say so…” He pulled back slow, pushing into the liquid heat a little faster.
Bruce bit his lip, breathing through his nose unevenly. He grabbed the bronzed hand around his cock and made Clark stroke him faster. “Hahnnn…”
“You’re so tight, Bruce…You’ve got to relax.” Clark licked the back of the billionaire’s neck, then started making a hickey.
“I’m trying, but you’re so fucking huge!” Bruce’s breathing was ragged, hitching again as the journalist pulled out faster this time. “God you’re big…” The Playboy Prince forced himself to relax, Clark picking up speed.
“That’s it…That’s it, Bruce,” Clark crooned, thumbing the head of the billionaire’s cock. He changed the angle of this thrusts until Bruce cried out and pushed back against him. The reporter smirked, thrusting against that spot purposely slow, getting an even louder cry. “Right there, huh?”
“God yes! Do that again!” Bruce demanded, moving his hips back in time with Clark’s thrusts. The journalist grabbed his hip with his free hand, keeping him still as he picked up the pace, nailing the billionaire’s prostate every few strokes. And he knew Clark was missing on purpose, otherwise he’d be blowing his load in just a few thrusts.
The reporter felt sweat beading on his brow, the air smelling of sex now. Clark could hear Bruce’s heart beating rapidly, the billionaire moaning in pleasure rather than gasping in pain now. He slammed hard into Bruce, making the door rattle slightly. Clark grinned and did it again, harder this time.
Bruce was having one hell of a time keeping his voice contained; all he wanted to do was scream and cry out like they were in the safety of the mansion, away from curious ears. But they weren’t and he moved his hand from Clark’s to bite down on his index finger in an attempt to muffle his cries.
It was a little late, considering, but Clark quickly undid Bruce’s shirt and yanked it down by the collar so he could kiss and nip at the billionaire’s scarred back. “Louder, Bruce!” The journalist fucked Bruce as hard as he dared, eliciting moans and gasps nearly unrestrained; he knew Bruce could be louder than that. He moved his hand from the Playboy Prince’s cock to fondle his balls roughly, giving them a squeeze.
“Goddamnit, Clark!” Bruce slammed his fist on the door, needing to brace himself with both hands now. Left with nothing to muffle his cries, and finding he didn’t really care anymore, the billionaire moaned loud, cries echoed by the shaking of the door.
“That’s more like it, you stubborn, persistent bastard!” Clark found his tongue getting away with him, but he didn’t really care at this point. With every sharp thrust of his hips he made sure to hit Bruce’s sweet spot.
The door was rattling so hard that Bruce was worried it’d fall right off its hinges. Or worse, someone could hear it and get curious. “Does that make you my un-understanding, laidback, lover?” Clark slapped his ass and Bruce couldn’t help a breathy chuckle.
Clark changed his thrusts from fast and hard to long and deep, then grabbed the Playboy Prince’s cock, jerking him in time with the movement of his hips. Bruce tightened around him again, and he knew the billionaire was getting close.
A warm knot made itself known in Bruce’s stomach, threatening to break soon. Despite the strong, warm hand on his hip keeping him in place, Bruce surged forward, thrusting into the hand around his cock, back arching. “Clark-Clark…”
“Cum, Bruce, cum in my hand!” Clark focused all his attention on the head of Bruce’s cock. He felt himself getting close too, thrusts becoming erratic.
“I’m cuming! Oh god, oh fuck!” Bruce grabbed onto Clark’s hand again as he threw his head back with a guttural cry. He felt his own hot cum gushing over his hand, the reporter milking him with a firm grasp.
“Good-boy, Bruce…” Clark’s breath was uneven and he buried himself deep inside Bruce, only managing deep, short thrusts. “Hnnn…”
“C-cum inside me, Clark!” Bruce did his best to keep himself standing, knees threatening to buckle with each deep thrust of Clark’s cock.
“Ahn! Bruce!” Clark pressed his forehead into the billionaire’s shoulder. He gave one last thrust before he came deep and hard inside of Bruce with a choked cry.
Hot stickiness shot inside of Bruce, making the him moan softly. He took a shaky breath as cum started spilling down his thighs, his legs finally giving out.
Clark caught the billionaire around the waist, barely able to stand himself; were it not for his powers, he was sure they both would have collapsed to the floor in a panting mess. The reporter carefully pulled out of Bruce, more cum running down his thighs. Clark scooped his boyfriend up managed to get the both of them on the floor to lie down. Their pants were around their ankles, Bruce’s breath tickling across his chest as they fought to regain composure. He held onto the billionaire tight, chest heaving almost as much as Bruce’s.
Bruce twisted in the reporter’s grasp, smiling as he pushed Clark’s glasses up onto his head before kissing him sloppily. After a long moment of breathy kissing, he laid his head down on the journalist’s bronzed chest and let out a long, happy sigh.
“Are you satisfied now? Can I go back to work?” Clark asked, looking down to see a wicked grin on Bruce’s face. Then he heard a slight rumble from the billionaire’s stomach.
“Well, I could go for some bagels. Let’s go get bagels.” Bruce knew Clark had to have been rolling his eyes, but he didn’t care. He wanted bagels with his boyfriend.

~ ~ ~
“Smallville, where are you going?” Lois asked. She hadn’t seen him in awhile and knew Perry was looking for him.
Clark grabbed his suit jacket from the back of his chair. “Bagels. With Bruce Wayne.” Damn Bruce and his want of breakfast foods after sex. And damn his resolve for being so weak when it came to wanting to eat said breakfast foods with Bruce.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
A/N: All I can really say is that Bruce and Clark refused to be themselves for the first bit, which resulted in them running around in my head in each others’ undies. And that, in turn, ended up with them in ladies underwear and high heels. And lipstick. I’ve found it’s best not to question what goes on inside my head.
I value constructive criticism. You don’t have to worry about hurting my feelings.
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That's A No-No