Work Text:
Clark sighed with relief as he flopped down into one of the remarkably soft chairs on the private jet. He may be practically invincible, but he still felt run a little ragged. It had been cloudy in Gotham for the last few weeks, which, when combined with the five Justice League missions in four days, meant that he was, metaphorically, running on fumes. He closed his eyes, and let the rumble of the jet engines lull him to sleep.
He woke up a few hours later, the jet halfway to National City. Bruce was fully reclined in his seat, eyes closed, headphones in his ears. He looked like he was asleep, but Clark was sure he was doing something case related. For one of the many cases he was working on simultaneously. Clark sometime wondered how he kept track. He smiled softly, watching Bruce, who looked as relaxed as he ever got.
“Stop staring at me,” Bruce said, not opening his eyes.
“I can’t help it,” Clark said, reaching out and taking Bruce’s hand. Bruce smiled, his eyes still closed. “You’re so beautiful when you’re not frowning at me.”
“You really think that?” Bruce grinned, opening his eyes and looking up at Clark.
“Of course I do,” Clark said. He stood, and fit himself into the reclined seat, cuddling around Bruce, who sighed and took his headphones out. He curled around Clark, squeezing the two of them into the reclined seat.
“Why do you always insist on us cuddling here on this chair?” Bruce asked after a few moments of cuddling. “Instead of the couch five feet over there?”
“Closer,” Clark muttered into Bruce’s collarbone. “Don’t wanna walk.”
“You can fly,” Bruce retorted, rubbing his hand down Clark’s arm. “We wouldn’t have to walk.” There was a sharp breeze and they were on the larger and softer couch.
“Fine, happy now?” Clark muttered, shifting to get comfortable. He wrapped an arm around Bruce, and snuggled into his muscles, eyes closing as he relaxed.
Bruce snuggled into Clark, giving his legs a gentle stretch. His calves always got tight during a flight. His thighs brushed against Clark’s dick, and Clark gasped slightly.
“Clark,” Bruce asked. “Are you hard?”
“Wha?” Clark sounded half asleep already. “For you, always.” He snuggled back into Bruce, his breathing slowly evening out as he fell back asleep. Bruce shrugged, and maneuvered the blanket from the back of the couch over them. A nap wouldn’t hurt. He let Clark’s warm weight and soft breathing drag him down into sleep.
Bruce woke up slowly, letting himself doze, warm, tucked up against Clark on the couch. He was almost always tired, with staying up to all hours as either Brucie Wayne or Batman, and having to get up early enough to get his youngest kid off to school. Alfred insisted on that. Luckily, he could usually crawl back into bed for a few hours before he really had to go into work. And no one really cared if good old Brucie napped on the suspiciously comfortable couch in his office instead of attending his meetings. But he rarely got to sleep, and he certainly never got to laze about, dozing in Clark’s arms.
Clark made a sleepy sound, and shifted on the couch, his arm slipping lower down Bruce’s back, and tangling their legs together. Bruce flexed his shoulder and let himself snuggle a little farther into Clark’s warmth. He could just fall back asleep, and sleep until they reached National City. Clark grumbled and shifted again, his hard dick rubbing up against Bruce’s thigh. Clark, still asleep, thrust his hips a few times, before snuggling into Bruce’s arms with a sleepy sigh.
Suddenly, Bruce was wide awake, Clark still sound asleep in his arms. He went from warm and dozing to hard and very turned on in a heartbeat. Warmth pooled in his gut as he felt himself harden. He rocked his hips against Clark’s thigh, causing Clark to make a sleepy sound and shift so they could rock against each other. Somehow, Clark seemed to still be asleep. Bruce ran his hand down Clark’s back and slipped it under Clark’s shirt, touching his warm skin. Clark always ran warm, as though his skin was perpetually sun-kissed. Clark flinched as Bruce’s cold hand brushed his warm skin, jerking awake.
“Wha? Bru?” Clark asked, sleep slurring his words. He ran his hand through his hair. “Oh. You’re hard.”
Bruce chuckled low in his chest; Clark was not a morning person. Clark probably wouldn’t fully wake up for at least fifteen luxurious minutes. He slipped his hands into Clark’s jeans, just skimming his underwear elastic. Clark made a pleased sound and rocked his hips against Bruce’s. Bruce gave Clark’s ass a squeeze, and rocked into Clark, feeling a frisson of pleasure going up his spine. Clark made a sound deep in the back of his throat, and rolled so Bruce was flat on his back, Clark between his knees. Clark eyes were dangerously bright, and he was grinning.
“I take it you’re awake,” Bruce said, grinning up at Clark as he relaxed against the pillow. Clark raised his eyebrows as he leaned forward, trailing kisses down Bruce’s chin and neck. Bruce sighed, moving his hands so his fingers were teasing Clark’s hole and making his intentions clear. Clark rocked back, letting Bruce’s finger rub exactly were he wanted them.
“Lube?” Clark asked. Bruce grinned, and reluctantly removed his hands from Clark’s ass to slip in between the couch cushions, coming up with a small travel bottle of his favorite brand. Clark’s eyes lit up, and he took the bottle, almost upsetting them off the couch in his hurry.
“Easy, easy,” Bruce said, with a soft laugh. “Clothes. Shoes, then pants.” Clark blurred as he stripped. Bruce took his time, carefully unbuttoning his shirt and taking it off before toeing his shoes off and unbuttoning his jeans. He didn’t usually wear jeans, but had pulled a pair on for the flight to National City.
“Leave ‘em on,” Clark said.
“Leave them on?” Bruce asked. “My jeans?”
“Yeah, leave them on.” Clark inhaled. “I want them pressed against me while I fuck myself on your dick.”
“The mouth on you,” Bruce grinned.
“You like my mouth on you,” Clark said, pressing a kiss to the juncture of Bruce’s neck and shoulders.
“I like your mouth on me,” Bruce agreed. Clark took his time, sucking a deep dark love bite on on Bruce’s neck.
“I like my mouth on you,” Clark said, winking at Bruce before he kissed his way down Bruce’s chest. Bruce smiled, gently tangling his fingers in Clark’s curls.
“Speaking of, do you want me to blow you?” Clark asked.
“Hmmm…” Bruce said, considering. “No, not today. I’ll blow you later, though, if you’re still hard after we fuck.”
“Bruce, I’m almost always hard after we fuck,” Clark said. Bruce grinned.
“I know.”
Clark grinned in return, reaching for the lube. He squeezed some onto his fingers, and reached around to prep himself. He made quick work of it, and was soon positioning himself to ride Bruce’s dick. He braced himself, and slowly worked himself onto Bruce’s dick, taking him deeper and deeper.
Bruce exhaled as if he’d been punched in the gut, gripping Clark’s hips with enough force to bruise a regular human. He inhaled slowly, rocking his hips slightly as he gave Clark time to adjust. Clark rocked a few times, Bruce’s dick hitting all the pleasurable spots. He inhaled through his nose, eyes closed, before exhaling and opening his eyes with a grin.
“You can move now,” he said, rocking down on Bruce’s dick with a soft moan. Bruce moaned, rocking his hips with what little leverage his had. He pressed his bare feet flat on the couch, fucking up into Clark’s warmth. Clark ground down, fucking himself. They rocked together, Clark leaning forward to press kisses to Bruce’s lips and face in between pants, gasps, and moans.
Clark moaned, came for the first time with a punched in the gut exhale, and kept fucking himself, rocking his hips and grinding down. It wasn’t long before Bruce came almost silently, stilling and gasping for breath as he came down. Clark whimpered and came a second time, panting against Bruce’s neck. After enjoying the afterglow for a bit, Clark shifted his hips, letting Bruce’s softening dick slide out of him. Bruce hissed at the sensation, slightly oversensitive.
Clark snuggled against Bruce, gloriously and unashamedly naked. He was still hard, his dick pressing against Bruce’s hip, the sensation blunted through the jeans Clark had insisted Bruce keep on.
“That can’t be comfortable,” Bruce muttered into Clark’s shoulder. “My jeans have to be rubbing you in an… uncomfortable way.” Clark made a somewhat sleepy noise, wrapping his arm around Bruce’s waist and tangling their legs together, absently rubbing his dick against Bruce’s hip. Bruce ran a hand down Clark’s warm back, feeling just how relaxed he was, no tension at all in those muscles.
“It’s not uncomfortable,” Clark said, his voice soft with sleep. “I could fall asleep like this.”
“We need to get cleaned up,” Bruce said, nudging Clark, who made a sound but got to his feet, heading to the small airplane bathroom completely naked. Bruce took a moment to enjoy the view. The door closed, and Bruce took a moment to gather himself, before grabbing a tissue and cleaning himself off as well as he could. Clark exited the bathroom and walked the handful of steps over to Bruce just as naked, drying his hands on a disposable paper napkin. He was not only gloriously naked, he was hard. Clark flopped down onto the couch, letting himself relax into the cushions.
Bruce slowly got to his feet, and disappeared into the small airplane bathroom. He cleaned himself up as well as he could with a cold and damp paper napkin. Once as clean enough, he left the bathroom, and walked over to Clark, shucking his jeans.
Clark had placed the blanket from the back of the couch on the couch, and wrapped another one around him. Bruce wasn’t sure where he’d found it. Clark lifted the edge of the blanket, and Bruce slid in next to him, snuggling into his arms. Clark murmured sleepily, wrapping his arms and legs around Bruce. Soon, his breathing evened out in sleep, and Bruce let himself be dragged into slumber.
An hour or so later, the pilot let them know that they were on final approach to National City. They slowly got dressed, getting distracted by kisses. Once they were mostly presentable, Bruce used a dirty wrestling trick to land the Man of Steel on his back on the couch. He pressed an equally dirty kiss to Clark’s lips, plundering it while he unbuckled Clark’s belt, unbuttoning his jeans and pulling the zipper down. Clark groaned as Bruce pulled his dick out of his underwear. Bruce stroked him root to tip a few times, reveling in the sounds Clark made.
He dropped to his knees, his left cracking in protest, and took Clark’s dick in his mouth in one movement. Clark gasped, his hips jerking as he tried not to trust into Bruce’s mouth. Bruce worked his tongue around the head and glans. Clark’s thighs tensed, his hand gripping Bruce’s shoulder, his eyes closing as his head lolled back against the couch cushions. Bruce reached out, and moved Clark’s hand to the back of his head, encouraging Clark to fuck his face. Clark tangled his fingers in Bruce’s hair, thrusting softly and shallowly, despite Bruce’s encouragement. He forced his eyes open, and came unexpectedly with a soft gasp.
Bruce seemed to be expecting what Clark wasn’t, swallowing with practiced precision. Clark groaned again, slumping against the couch cushions, as Bruce pulled off his dick with an obscene “pop”, before tucking him back into his jeans. Bruce hopped up on the couch, between Clark’s spread thighs, tangled his hand in Clark’s curls, and pressed a deep kiss to Clark’s mouth.
Clark sighed, letting Bruce press him back into the couch cushions. They made out until the plane landed on the runway with a slight bump. Clark gently disentangled them, reminding Bruce that they were in National City for work, not play.
“Who says we can’t have both?” Bruce murmured, retaking his own seat. Clark pretended to consider it for a moment.
“Hm… work first, play later?” he suggested after a moment.
“I can work with that,” Bruce said. He reached out, took Clark’s chin in his hand, and pressed a soft kiss to his lips.