Chapter Text
Clark felt a thrill of nerves as he approached his destination, a swooping excitement that felt like flying all in itself. He followed Bruce’s heart like a beacon, letting the steady beat lead him there. Bruce had sent him the coordinates, but considering the week ahead, Clark would rather be beckoned by Bruce’s beating heart. A week alone. A week for them. Clark’s stomach swooped again as he soared. He flew remote and further remote, dropping down to trail just above the treeline when he was sure there was no one close, no one but Bruce. Bruce had chosen this house so they could be alone. Well, cabin. Bruce had insisted, when they had decided to do this, to call the house a cabin in every conversation. Clark wasn’t really sure what the difference was.
Bruce’s heart grew nearer and nearer. Clark saw the cabin up ahead and he conceded that Bruce had been right. It was fair to call it a cabin. It was small, by Wayne standards, and aggressively modern. Its tapered A-shaped frame held floor-to-ceiling windows, the gleaming glass juxtapositioned with dark wood. The house was almost more glass than wood. Inside, there was a bedroom and an open floor plan connecting the kitchen to the dining room to the living room. Outside, Bruce sat in a dark rocking chair, his feet propped up on a stool. He had a scarf around his neck and his cheeks were flushed with cold.
‘Hi.’ Clark floated to the ground. The frost crackled under his feet.
Bruce checked his watch and raised an eyebrow.
‘You’re late.’ Bruce stood, walking down the three steps of the porch and coming up to Clark. Clark stole a kiss. Bruce let him.
‘I hurried as best I could.’ Clark wrapped his arms around Bruce and kissed his jaw. ‘There were things I had to help with. Are you mad?’
‘No,’ Bruce replied and there was fondness in his voice. He hooked his hands around Clark’s back, a loose embrace. ‘I am… eager.’
Clark could smell it on him, the anticipation and nerves. Clark knew he must smell just the same, even if Bruce couldn’t tell. Clark could feel it in his veins, anticipation that felt like fire.
‘Me too.’ Clark licked his lips and took a step back. ‘Can we begin?’
Bruce inclined his head and took Clark’s hand. He led him up the cabin steps and opened the door, stepping inside. Clark followed. Bruce spoke after closing the door.
‘Take off your uniform.’
An order, the first one of the week. Clark felt the fire thrum in his fingers as he took off his suit, aware that Bruce was watching him with a calculated focus. Naked, Clark folded his clothes and offered them to Bruce. Bruce placed them in a shelf built into the wall and pulled out a box. The box was black, the material matte. Bruce pushed his thumbs against the locks and the box creaked open. Clark was still as a statue as Bruce reached inside.
In his hands was a collar, thick black leather and a heavy clasp. Attached to the front of the collar was a golden ring, glinting under the entryway spotlight.
‘Come here.’ Clark could hear a tremor in Bruce’s voice, restrained excitement. Clark stepped closer and bowed his head. Bruce undid the clasps and held the collar in both hands. Bruce spoke again. ‘Before I put this on. Show me you know the parameters.’
Clark swallowed.
‘After you put the collar on, I belong to you.’ Clark swallowed again, continuing when Bruce opened his mouth to prompt him. ‘The collar is all I wear unless you decide to dress me. You can do whatever you want with me, whenever you want it. My body is yours.’
Bruce’s eyes smiled.
‘Yes,’ he agreed. ‘And you still want to do this?’
‘Yes.’
‘And if you want me to stop?’
Clark swallowed down the protest that there was no way he would want Bruce to ever stop and replied:
‘Banana muffin.’ The phrase was stupid, but that was the point. It worked well.
‘And if you can’t talk?’
Clark tapped the Morse code on Bruce’s forearm. Bruce nodded, approving.
‘Are you ready?’
‘Yes.’
Bruce moved a little closer and lifted the collar to Clark’s throat. Clark kept his head bowed as Bruce worked on the clasps. The leather was soft but rigid and he could feel every stitch. The ring was cold where it lay on the hollow of his throat. Clark knew it was all in his head, but he felt different when Bruce secured the final clasp and took a step back. He was owned.
‘I’m going to activate the light treatment.’ Bruce announced and moved to a control panel, talking as he set it up. ‘Your powers will be blocked as long as you are inside the cabin. I’ve set it up to activate in phases. It will take ninety minutes before you’re on a human baseline.’
It was a magnificent feat of engineering, the red sun filter Bruce had developed that could take away Superman’s powers. The original purpose had been related to training. The recreational use had come later. Clark cherished it. It was nice not to be Superman for a little bit now and then. Only after a few seconds, Clark could tell it was working. His toes were cold.
Bruce reached back to the box and pulled out a leash, thin leather stitched together, a golden clip at the end. Bruce attached the clip to the ring. Clark felt dizzy.
‘I have some work to finish.’ Bruce’s mouth twitched at Clark’s expression and he added, ‘This will be the only work I do this week. Keep me company.’
Bruce led Clark by the leash to the dining room. Bruce had set up shop on the dining room table, his laptop and tablet next to each other, a mostly full bottle of wine and an empty crystal glass to the side. Bruce sat and refilled his glass. Clark waited to be told what to do.
‘Sit.’ Bruce spoke to Clark like an owner to a dog. Clark kneeled on the floor. Bruce petted his hair. ‘Good.’
Clark sat there, feeling his powers drain away and looking around the cabin. It was sleek and elegant, expensive furnishings and new appliances. It was Bruce all over. Bruce worked, occasionally reaching out with his left hand to run his fingers through Clark’s hair, scratching him behind the ears. Bruce unclipped the leash and put it aside. He had finished his glass of wine and had poured himself another when he looked down at Clark, his face considering.
Bruce hooked two fingers in the ring and tugged in the direction of the table, his other hand on his belt. Clark crawled under the table as Bruce pushed his slacks down. Bruce reached under the table for Clark and caught a handful of hair, pulling him in. Bruce was soft and Clark opened his mouth for him, tasting salt and sweat and a hint of soap. Clark moved his tongue along Bruce’s underside, pleased to feel him stiffen, growing larger in his mouth. Bruce tapped Clark’s ear.
‘Don’t distract me. I need to finish this.’
Clark stayed still, cheek pressed against Bruce’s thigh and with Bruce’s cock in his mouth. Bruce might be soft but Clark was hard and Bruce had to know, his velvet slippers sliding up and down Clark’s thigh as he worked, occasionally slipping up over the inside of his thigh, almost touching him. Clark ached for it, but even the aching felt good. If Bruce wanted him to come, Bruce would tell him to. Clark kept his hands on his knees and didn’t touch himself, didn’t move his head. Bruce worked and Clark was obedient, salivating but not swallowing it down, not wanting to do anything that could be considered distracting. Clark had no idea how long he stayed there, but his powers were well and truly dampened and there was nothing in the world but Bruce.
Bruce’s laptop clicked when he closed it. Bruce leaned back in his chair and studied Clark. Clark felt Bruce’s cock twitch in his mouth and he waited for the order, for the instruction to move.
‘It’s time for bed.’ Bruce said and lifted Clark off his cock, raising a smug eyebrow at Clark’s leaking cock. He didn’t address it.
Clark followed when Bruce got up, trailing him into the bedroom and waiting on the bed as Bruce busied himself in the bathroom. Once Bruce was out, Clark brushed his teeth and spent a couple of minutes admiring the collar around his neck. It fit perfectly, of course it did. It looked good on him. Bruce had chosen well. Bruce was reading in bed when Clark came back and once had slipped under the covers, Bruce put his book away and turned the light out.
It was strange not being able to see in the dark. Clark squinted and could make out the silhouette of Bruce’s face, lying on his back with a hand on his sternum, the covers pulled all the way up.
‘Good night, Clark.’ Bruce spoke in the darkness, his voice warm in the cool room.
‘Good night, Bruce.’
Clark fell asleep dreaming of tomorrow.