Desperation

by Sunless_Garden

Summary:

Superman saves Batman from Poison Ivy. Batman saves Superman from sex pollen. (Does he?)

Notes:

Prompt: Bottom Clark 2021, Day 137, "Capture."

Chapter 1

Clark helps the cruise ship dock, and then he flies higher – pausing to wave at the excited passengers on deck before taking off again. He extends his hearing broadly, but he doesn’t identify any other emergencies that call for Superman’s help. He flies up higher, drifting leisurely, basking in the last of the sun’s rays as it slowly sets over the horizon.

Clark focuses his hearing on his favorite people. Ma is chatting and laughing with a friend; Lois is cursing to herself and typing furiously; and B is pulling the Batmobile out of the Cave. All is well in his world. Clark floats along, higher and higher. He falls into something of a doze, though he keeps his hearing open in case any emergencies arise.

Clark is pulled out of his doze by the sound of B’s heart beating slightly faster. That’s somewhat unusual, but he doesn’t interfere. He trusts Batman to handle Gotham, and to call for backup if necessary. But given how quiet it is elsewhere, he does allow himself to drift closer to Gotham; too high for Batman to detect him and be annoyed by Superman’s presence in his city, but close enough that he can be there in a second if Batman needs help.

Batman seems to have it all under control, so Clark allows himself to relax again. The sun has long since set, but the full moon is high over the sky, and moonlight is the second best thing. It isn’t as effective as sunlight, but Clark basks in it just the same.

Suddenly, B’s heart rate spikes. Clark snaps awake, and is already en route when Batman’s raspy voice comes through his Justice League communicator: “Backup requested. Transmitting coordinates now.” Clark doesn’t need the coordinates; he follows the sound of B’s heartbeat. He switches to x-ray vision as he approaches the warehouse where B’s heartbeat is located.

Poison Ivy. One of her plants is twining vines around Batman’s arms and legs; Clark watches as he struggles but can’t reach his utility belt. Clark crashes through the roof of the warehouse; he’s careful not to hit B as he focuses his heat vision and incinerates the plant. Ivy screams, and Clark turns just to get a face full of spores.

He stumbles back, and Ivy is already gone by the time he shakes it off. He sees B approaching from the side. He’s saying something, but it sounds like he’s far away. Clark’s eyes slip closed and…

When he opens them next, he’s looking at the ceiling of the Cave. He’s so hot; it feels like his blood his burning in his veins. The cool air of the Cave against his bare skin isn’t enough. Clark tries to use his freeze breath to cool down, but nothing happens.

He moans. He squirms and tries to get up, but it is a struggle to move. He aches. It’s so hot, and his cock is so hard it hurts, and he’s so empty…

“How are you feeling?” Clark hears, and he somehow finds the strength to turn his head towards the voice, and there’s Bruce – cowl down, Batsuit still on. He says something about Ivy’s formula being new.

Clark can’t concentrate. His tongue feels heavy in his mouth, and he can’t find the words to respond. Is he naked? He thinks he might be naked. Bruce mentions something about contamination, but Clark just can’t focus. What’s wrong with him?

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Bruce is murmuring, suddenly at his side, gently brushing his curls off his forehead. And what Clark wants most in that minute is to touch Bruce, but his arms barely move. He looks down, and – oh, he is naked, except for cuffs around his wrists, and he’s so, so hard. His cock is swollen and hot, dripping against his stomach.

“B?” he murmurs, and even that is a struggle. His mouth is so dry. As if reading his mind, Bruce brings an ice chip to his lips. Clark can’t help himself; he licks at Bruce’s fingers just as desperately as he does the ice chip. Bruce is still wearing his gloves; Clark wishes he wasn’t. Bruce places the ice chip on his tongue, and Clark tries to lick and suck his fingers, tries to get them deeper, but they brush along his bottom lip and slip away.

“Ivy’s new serum hit you hard,” Bruce tells him. “I haven’t been able to synthesize an antidote yet.” He goes to step back, and Clark – Clark can’t let him walk away, needs him closer. He doesn’t know how, but he manages to sit up; he reaches forward and grabs Bruce’s gauntlet, pulling weakly. Bruce moves with Clark’s pull, stepping forward, and suddenly Bruce is there, right where Clark needs him, solid muscles covered in hard Kevlar between Clark’s naked thighs.

“Please,” he murmurs, tilting his head up. Clark can’t quite reach Bruce’s lips from his position; he licks and sucks on Bruce’s neck instead, desperate for the feeling of Bruce’s warm skin under his mouth. “Please, please.” He’s not sure what he’s asking for, except Bruce closer.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for, Clark,” Bruce tells him, tone soft, almost gentle. He grabs Clark’s shoulders, pushing his back until Clark’s mouth can’t reach his skin anymore. Clark squirms, tries to get closer, but he can’t move, held still by Bruce’s hands on his shoulders.

“You, please,” he begs. “Please, B.”

Bruce sighs, pushing Clark to lie back down on the medical bed. Clark tries to stay seated upright, but he’s helpless against Bruce’s strength. (A voice in the back of his mind asks how, but he can’t – he can’t think. He just needs Bruce, needs him now.) “That’s Ivy’s serum, not you,” Bruce says. “I’m working on an antidote. Another twelve hours or so and I should be able to synthesize it.”

“Twelve hours?” Clark asks, horrified. Bruce can’t leave him like this for twelve hours. Clark won’t be able to stand it. “Need you now.” Is that his voice, pleading and petulant?

“You just need to be patient,” and that’s easy for Bruce to say, his cock’s not so hard it could drill diamonds. And Clark’s so empty, he needs something inside him – he needs Bruce inside him.

“Need you, please,” he begs, yet again, whining when Bruce lets go of his shoulders and starts to move away. Clark feels tears of frustration well in his eyes as Bruce turns away from him. He moves one hand to his cock, tugging weakly, but it’s not enough. He’s so empty. And Bruce is right there. Why won’t he help?

Bruce is still facing away from him. “I won’t take advantage of you,” he says, and he’s walking away. Tears start to trail down Clark’s cheeks as he strokes himself as hard as he can. He’s hard and hot and wet, so wet, and he spreads the precum on his cock as he continues to stroke himself, staring longingly at Bruce’s broad back. He’s still begging, he can hear himself begging, pleas tripping from his mouth mindlessly. But Bruce doesn’t turn around.

Clark comes, spurting all over his stomach. His cock softens just a bit and his mind clears, slightly, briefly. “Protocol,” he says, as loudly as he can. “Pollen protocol.” And then he’s fully hard again, desperate. He’s so sensitive, and so empty, but he can’t move – can’t reach to touch himself there. He pulls on a nipple instead, squeezing his eyes shut. He’d be writhing if he had the energy. If he had his strength, he’d push Bruce down, and tear off his suit, and… he cuts those thoughts off, horrified with himself.

And then – Bruce is on top of him, kneeling between his thighs, pulling Clark’s hands away from his cock and nipple, and he’s – he’s naked. All defined muscles and pale skin and sexy scars. Clark wants to lick him, wants to suck his hard cock, wants, wants, wants…

“You listed me?” Bruce asks in a low murmur, pinning Clark’s wrists above his head with one hand, using the other to spread Clark’s thighs wide on either side of his own. And then Bruce reaches down, and one and then two of Bruce’s fingers are inside him, broad and slick and right where Clark needs them. He comes again, just from Bruce’s fingers stretching him and rubbing his prostate, his cock untouched.

It barely softens, but Clark is able to gather his thoughts, his words. “Of course I listed you, B,” he murmurs. “I trust you.” Clark put down three names on the form the League circulated for sex pollen incidents; three people with whom Clark consented to have sex when he was in his right mind. Bruce, and Diana, and J’onn. And then he’s fully hard again, and Bruce’s two fingers aren’t enough, and everything is desperation and need. “Please,” he begs again, even as Bruce slips a third finger into him, stretching him gently.

“Ready?” Bruce asks. Clark whines when Bruce pulls his fingers out, lining his cock up so the head of it kisses Clark’s hole. Then Bruce lets go of Clark’s wrists to grab Clark’s legs and pull them over his shoulders. And then Bruce – doesn’t move. Rao, Clark is so empty, he needs Bruce inside him. Why isn’t Bruce moving?

Clark tries to reach up, wants to grab Bruce’s hips and pull him inside him – but his arms feel so heavy, he can’t move them even without Bruce pinning his wrists in place. He’s crying again – he feels the tears running down his cheeks, tastes them on his tongue. And then Bruce – leans down and kisses him, wet and hot and passionate. Clark kisses back, desperate for it, murmuring “yes” and “please” and “Bruce” whenever their lips part, in between gasps for air. He’s never felt like this before – weak and desperate and helpless. Clark would be scared, except it’s Bruce – his best friend, who he trusts more than he trusts himself.

And then Bruce is sliding inside him, slowly but surely, hitting Clark’s prostate on the first try. He pulls out and pulls back from their kiss, and Clark begs for more – more of Bruce’s cock and kisses and touches. Bruce smiles, and he leans down to kiss Clark again, and Clark can taste that smile, as Bruce thrusts inside him again, and again, and again, hitting Clark’s prostate with every thrust. Clark’s legs are still thrown over Bruce’s shoulders, and Bruce’s hands are tight on Clark’s hips, moving him exactly where Bruce wants him.

Clark comes again, nearly dry this time, but Bruce doesn’t stop – keeps thrusting and kissing and thrusting, and Clark – Clark can’t think, can barely breath, but he’s getting hard again, somehow. And Bruce keeps going – deep, hard thrusts that Clark can feel in his throat, and then Clark is coming again, entirely dry this time. And he’s crying again, because Bruce is still fucking him, and he’s so oversensitive, but he still wants it, but it hurts, but…

“Shh…” Bruce whispers against his lips, pressing kisses to Clark’s cheeks, licking up his tears. “I’ve got you, baby, I’ve got you.”

“Hurts, please,” Clark whispers back, more tears falling down his cheeks, just for Bruce to kiss them away.

“Okay, baby, we’ll stop,” Bruce says. But when he pulls out – Clark is so empty again, so empty it hurts – more than when Bruce was hitting his oversensitive prostate with every thrust.

Clark begs for Bruce to get back inside, to fuck him again. Bruce does, and Clark moans – from the pleasure and the pain both. Bruce moves Clark’s legs from over his shoulders, to either side of waist, shifting so they are pressed together shoulder to hip, Clark’s half-hard cock pressed between their bodies. The friction gets him fully hard again in minutes, and then he’s coming again, somehow, shuddering with it, and it’s so good but it hurts.

Bruce captures his lips in another hard kiss, swallowing Clark’s moans and cries and pleas. And then Bruce comes, deep inside him. Clark shivers; Bruce’s come is surprisingly cool, dousing the flames in his blood. Bruce holds him close, gentling their kisses to something soft and slow and sweet.

When Bruce’s soft cock finally slips out of him, Clark pulls back from their kisses with a gasp, hiding his blush in Bruce’s strong neck. He can feel Bruce’s come slipping out of him, where he’s open and wet and loose. Clark’s own cock is finally soft, and the haze of desperation is slowly clearing from his mind, and he’s – embarrassed and exhausted and…

Bruce isn’t pulling away, just rearranging them so they’re both lying on their sides, Clark’s back against Bruce’s broad chest, his head pillowed on Bruce’s bicep. “You were so good, baby, so good. Do you feel better now?” Bruce is whispering, pressing soft kisses on the back of Clark’s neck, on the sensitive spot behind his ear that makes him shiver.

Clark nods, and he can feel his blush spreading to the tips of his ears. Bruce kisses him there, too, before turning Clark’s face back towards him and kissing his forehead, and then his cheeks, and then his lips. A chaste peck at first, and then another kiss, and another – deep and slow and almost drugging Clark with the sweet pleasure of it.

“You have nothing to be ashamed about,” Bruce whispers, and Clark can feel the words against his oversensitive lips. He musters a tentative smile, and then the strength to turn around, so they are chest to chest now, still kissing. Bruce lays back, gripping Clark by the hips and moving Clark on top of him, and they only stop kissing when Clark pulls back for a yawn. Bruce smiles up at him, running gentle fingers through his curls.

They look into each other’s eyes, and – Clark is so happy it was Bruce there with him. “’m glad it was you,” Clark tells him softly. “Love you, B.” Bruce pulls Clark down so his head is pillowed on Bruce’s strong chest.

“I love you, too, baby,” Bruce whispers back, gently pushing Clark’s curls back from his eyes. Clark smiles again, pressing a sleepy kiss to Bruce’s chest as his eyes flutter shut. “More than you can possibly imagine…” he hears Bruce say, as he drifts off to sleep.

Chapter 2

Summary:

Dark Bruce is dark.

Bruce can’t take his eyes off Clark, sleeping deeply against his chest, trusting Bruce to keep him safe. He can’t keep his hands from softly caressing all the warm, flawless skin he can reach – Clark’s strong back and broad shoulders and gorgeous, fat ass and… especially his wet, open hole. Some of Bruce’s come is escaping, dripping out and down Clark’s thighs – he scoops it up and pushes it back in, gently, so gently, so he doesn’t wake Clark up.

Bruce doesn’t want to hurt Clark; he would never want to hurt Clark.

But Bruce’s normal seduction techniques don’t work on Clark. When he flirts as Brucie, Clark thinks it is part of the show. When he makes overtures as Batman, Clark just stammers and blushes and flies away. Alternate methods were unfortunately required.

So after Queen and Lance had their little run in with Poison Ivy four months ago, Bruce made Queen think that it was his idea for the League to have every member fill out a sex pollen protocol. Bruce was pleased when he saw that Clark listed him as the first option; not so pleased to see that Clark listed other options.

His hands tighten on Clark’s hips at the thought of anyone else touching him. When Clark starts to wake up, Bruce gentles his touch and soothes him with kisses and sweet words until he falls back to sleep.

Clark and Lois broke up six months ago, but they’re still friends. Bruce watched and waited; but even Batman’s patience isn’t infinite. He couldn’t wait any longer. He couldn’t take the chance that Lois would come to her senses and try to get Clark back, or that Diana or J’onn or anyone else would swoop in and try to steal him away.

So Batman was perhaps a little sloppy when investigating Poison Ivy’s warehouse; even Batman had off days. Thankfully Superman was there to save him; unfortunately (or at least, that’s what the mission report will read), Superman got a face full of Ivy’s newest pollen. Batman of course brought Superman back to the Cave, and initiated decontamination proceedings. (Bruce remembers pulling off that tight suit to reveal miles and miles of flawless golden skin; he remembers soaping up and washing Clark clean, caressing those defined, trembling muscles, inside and out.)

The blue kryptonite cuffs were necessary, of course, to keep Clark from hurting himself or anyone else. (No one needs to know that, without the blue kryptonite suppressing Clark’s advanced healing, and with a few sun lamps, Clark’s system would have burned through the pollen in another ten minutes or so.) And Ivy’s pollen was new; of course Batman needed some time to discover and synthesize the antidote. (It’s semen, applied internally. Bruce can appreciate Ivy’s sense of humor.) The computer will make that discovery ten hours from now. (Bruce will make sure it reflects the right timestamp.)

Batman couldn’t just let Superman suffer in the meantime. (Bruce couldn’t resist Clark, moaning and pleading and crying for Bruce’s touch.) And Superman consented – listed Batman first on his form, after all. Everything is above board.

Bruce presses his thumb lightly against Clark’s hole, just feeling where he’s still open and wet and Bruce’s come is trying to leak out. Clark’s rim twitches, as if kissing Bruce’s thumb, as if trying to suck it deeper. He smiles fondly, kissing Clark’s forehead softly even as he lets his thumb slip in just a little past the rim, just to feel the way Clark’s hole clenches so sweetly. He’s so good for Bruce.

Bruce doesn’t want to hurt Clark; he would never want to hurt Clark.

But Batman does what is necessary. And his gorgeous, trusting boy isn’t going anywhere.

Notes:

Thanks for reading. I live on kudos and comments!

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of Desperation, or Dark Bruce is Dark (And In Love With Clark)