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“And I’d also like to thank the board of the Wayne Foundation.” He announced, voice smooth as silk as he hummed into the microphone. Raising his glass, he flashed a charming smile as cameras flashed around him. “Without them, there would be no way this night could have happened.”
A few strands of dark hair fell over his eyes. It was perfectly tousled, playful.
Polite applause rippled throughout the museum’s main room. To punctuate his statement, Bruce tipped his glass, taking a measured sip of apple juice. He never drank alcohol at public events; it lowered his defences, dulled his instincts. And tonight, he needed every sense sharpened
He so desperately needed to stay aware.
With a pretend hiccup, he leaned too close to the mic once again. “After all, there’s no way I could have managed to make such a beautiful event!” He grinned, one of the directors stepping onstage to usher the “drunk” CEO off. His hand lingered on Bruce’s waist, dipping low on his back as he guided him down the stairs. But Bruce wasn’t thinking of him, not right now.
The hairs on the back of his neck prickled. He didn’t need to turn around to know exactly who caused such a feeling.
Kal-El. A predator in human form, an alien with nothing more than the desire to take. In Bruce’s life, he was a consistently omnipresent force.
To sell his inebriation, Bruce stumbled slightly towards one of the small tables, setting his half-empty drink down. The hand on his back still lingered. He chose to ignore it for the sake of the foundation. It made no difference to him that the man, Charles Palmer, was the same age his father would have been.
“Careful now, Brucie.” The man mused, far too close for propriety. His breath smelled like stale scotch and cigars; it was repulsive. “Why don’t you come to my suite with me, hm? You look like you could use some fresh air, and I recently acquired this beautiful scotch. You’d love it.”
With a practiced laugh, he pulled himself away from Palmer. “No - no, Charlie! The party’s just begun! I could hardly leave now!” He mused, “Excuse me, I need another drink.” He slipped toward the bar as quickly as he could, leaving that vile man behind.
With a second glass of apple juice slid into his waiting hand, he leaned back against the counter for a second to breathe. But before he could even take a sip of his drink, Ophelia Voss glided his way, emerald gown clinging to every curve.
“Oh, Brucie, Darling. I feel like I haven’t seen you all night!” She sighed, hand landing on his upper arm.
With a charming grin, he turned fully towards her, ignoring the way her fingers slid down his arm, toying idly with his cufflink. “Miss Voss, it’s called liquid courage for a reason, isn’t it? I think I’d need a whole bar before I could speak to you,” He purred, playfully.
There was no mistaking the tension in the air. Kal was watching, undoubtedly. Bruce couldn’t help the shiver that ran down his spine as he flirted with the heiress.
The tension in the air was tactile. Bruce glanced over her shoulder, more than surprised to see that Kal wasn’t lingering there. But he didn’t need to be; Bruce was aware that he was being observed.
“Now, Brucie. You wouldn’t happen to know of any private spots where we could have an… Intimate conversation,” She purred, sharp nails moving off his arm to brush against his tie instead. “Do you?”
The tie was a gaudy thing, a bright blue he would have never chosen to wear.
But he wasn’t given the choice.
He swallowed. As he opened his mouth, a deep voice cut him off.
“Excuse me, Mr. Wayne?” Oh no. “I need to ask you a follow-up about the article. Y’know, the one about renewable energy and its effects on the working-class in the Cauldron?” His voice was too bright, too friendly. Kal-El, or Clark Kent, was an expert at wearing a mask. To the world, he was a kind, bumbling reporter who thrifted his hideous suits and couldn’t go a day without spilling food on himself.
But Bruce knew better.
Kal was a force of nature. The very pressure of him was enough to crush him, to suck the air out of his lungs. His very presence demanded Bruce’s submission, and he was powerless to do anything but accept.
Before he could speak, Kal’s hand was wrapping firmly around his wrist. His massive hand clamped tightly, enough to send sparks of pain up his arm. There was no doubt that a ring of brilliant purple bruises would greet him when he undressed later.
Without delay, Kal hauled him toward an exit door. Bruce stumbled to keep pace, shoes squeaking along the polished marble. His mind raced with possibilities, but he knew one thing.
He messed up.
Before he could think of what was next, the door to a broom closet was swung open. In an instant, the pair were closed inside together. Kal crowded him against the back wall.
In the small space, Kal’s presence was suffocating.
His breath caught in his throat, heart pounding as he stared up at the Kryptonian. All pretense was gone, now. This wasn’t a bumbling reporter, no, this was Kal-El. A God among men.
“Now,” Kal said, voice low as his fingers wound around Bruce’s obnoxiously blue tie and yanked him forward. Hot breath fanned across his face from their proximity. “Are you going to tell me what the fuck that was out there?”
Bruce gave a slow nod. “It’s,” He started, words failing him as he stared up at the Kryptonian. “It’s a gala. I- You know I have a… Reputation, to uphold.” He breathed.
“A reputation.” Kal echoed, voice smooth as butter, as he stared down at him. There was no smile on his face, not now. Bruce couldn’t help but tremble, just barely.
Bruce jerked out a nod. “It’s what I do,” He choked, as Kal tugged the tie higher. “Y-You can’t just-” The tie was instantly released, his back crashing into the wall behind him.
“I can’t, what, Bruce?” Kal’s head tilted, predatorily. His movements were measured, calculated. “What can’t I do?” He asked, stepping forward. The air was electric between them. The room was too small, too hot, too much to bear.
“You can’t interfere with my life.” He breathed out. It was a pathetic, desperate attempt to assert some control over this situation. At once, Kal stopped.
“Is that so?” He asked, cooly. An amused smile tugged at his beautifully sculpted lips.
“Y-Yes.” He cleared his throat, steeling himself. “Yes. Yes, it is.”
“Oh.” Kal nodded slowly, mock understanding evident on his face. “Well, now that you’ve said so, I completely understand.”
Bruce blinked slowly, leaning fully against the wall to support himself. “You… do?” He asked, tentative. His voice seemed much higher than usual, in that moment.
“I do.” Kal agreed. His tone wasn’t warm, no, it was dominating. “I understand that you need to be reminded again of your place, yet again.”
Eyes widening, Bruce stared. “Of my place.” He echoed, voice trembling the barest amount.
But Kal would hear. Of course, he would hear.
Stepping forward, Kal wedged his thigh between Bruce’s legs, knee pressing firmly against his groin with an insistent pressure. With a startled gasp, his hands reached out to grasp the ugly brown suit of the reporter in front of him. “You forget that I can do whatever it is that I please with you. You’re mine, Bruce.” He whispered, hand sliding up to seize his jaw, fingers digging into his skin. “Every smile, every touch, every flirtatious glance. Those are mine.” He snarled, tilting Bruce’s head back slightly.
“It’s - Kal, it’s nothing, they’re nothing.” He whined, eyes locked firmly on Kal’s unearthly blue ones. “You’re overreacting.”
Shifting his thumb, he pressed it deliberately against Bruc’s windpipe, restricting just enough air to incite pain in the billionaire. Instinctively, one hand moved to claw at Kal’s wrist, the other tightly fisted in the man’s suit.
Right when Bruce was beginning to panic, his grip eased, allowing the man to suck in a sharp breath. He leaned in until his lips were next to Bruce’s ear. “You might act like a slut out there, begging for everyone’s attention, but don’t forget who owns you.” He hissed, tugging sharply at the Superman-blue tie. It shredded to ribbons in his grasp, fluttering to the floor.
With nothing in his way, Kal’s lips moved to trace along Bruce’s pulse point. Sharp, deadly teeth grazed with intention; his body betrayed him completely. Fear and lust were wound together so tightly that he wasn’t sure what he was feeling.
“Kal. We - We can’t, not here,” He pled, unable to deny the hardness growing rapidly between his legs. This was unfamiliar territory; anyone could enter and could witness them in this state.
But Kal didn’t care. Instead of listening to Bruce’s pleading, their lips crashed together. The Kryptonian kissed with insistence. Tongue forcing deep into Bruce’s mouth, mapping out every inch as his hand slid down to Bruce’s ass, squeezing firmly.
Bruce couldn’t do anything but melt into the warm hands of his lover. His master.
But the kiss was over far too soon. Pulling away from the breathless vigilante, Kal took one step back. “On your knees.” He said, voice low. “Show me you’re sorry for being such a slut.” His eyes were blazing, the pupils flickering red.
A shiver of lust slid down Bruce’s spine.
When he didn’t move, Kal took control. Tangling his fingers in the man’s hair, he pushed Bruce down with inexorable force. The hardwood echoed as he collapsed on top of it with a low bang. His knees ached from the force, but that was hardly his concern right now.
Swallowing thickly, he reached forward to fumble with the man’s belt. With shaking hands, he managed to undo it, the zipper quickly following. With a light tug to pull his briefs down, his massive cock sprang free, thick and veined, head already swollen and dripping pre-cum.
“Come on, slut. I said, suck.” Kal urged, hand still fisted tightly in Bruce’s mussed hair. With a cursory glance up toward his master, he leaned forward, lips wrapping around the dripping head. He couldn’t help but moan softly as the heady taste of Kal filled his senses.
Working his mouth along the first few inches, Kal let out a low groan of his own. “Deep. Take it all, like the good boy you pretend not to be.” He grunted, hips bucking to force a few more inches deep into his throat.
Inch by inch, he thrust his hips deeper until he was buried to the root in Bruce’s spasming throat. The sheer size always made taking him so deep a struggle. Cheeks hollowed as he sucked, tears dripping from the corners of his eyes.
But when he looked up, Kal was staring down at him with a fiery intensity. The Kryptonian looked as though he wanted to devour Bruce whole.
Bruce was certain that he would let him.
With shallow thrusts, Kal fucked his face, listening intently to the strangled choking noise his precious little pet made.
All too soon, he yanked Bruce off of his twitching cock, admiring the strings of saliva connecting them together before he tangled one fist in the collar of Bruce’s shirt, pulling him up and shoving him face-first against the wall. “Stay there, just like that. Good boy.” Kal growled. Trousers being undone and pooling around his ankles, leaving his ass exposed to the blistering heat of the Kryptonian.
He jolted as Kal’s hands gently squeezed the tender flesh of his ass. The last thing he expected was the sharp crack of Kal’s hand on one cheek. “That’s for Charles Palmer.” He snarled, landing another hit on the same cheek.
“Kal!” He gasped, clutching uselessly at the smooth wall.
“Tsk. You know that isn’t right.” He chuckled, leaning in to bite harshly on his earlobe. Bruce only whimpered.
“Master, please!” He whined in response. Kal only smacked the other cheek, “And this one is for the Heiress, for being a teasing little whore.” He said, punctuating his words with another sharp crack.
When both cheeks were sufficiently marked with his handprint, he cruelly kneaded the bruised flesh between his hands. “I wouldn’t need to punish you like this if you weren’t such a little slut, baby, you know that, don’t you?” He purred, pulling the man’s cheeks apart to expose his puffy hole.
Bruce didn’t speak, lip quivering as he pressed his cheek against the wall. He felt too raw, too exposed. The taste of Kal’s precum lingered on his tongue.
“And what’s this?” Kal smirked, sinking two fingers into his hole with no warning. “You’re already prepped. Did you plan to get fucked nice and dirty by your board member, Brucie?” He asked, free hand wrapping around Bruce’s throat, holding him in place as he scissored his fingers apart. “Did you want them to pass you around? To use you like the little whore you are? Maybe we should do just that, hm? I can bring you back out there, let them see that this is what you’re best at.”
Bruce shook his head quickly, a weak sob slipping from his lips. “N-No, please, master!” He gasped, “It’s for you, only for you. I’m yours.”
Kal chuckled, adding a third finger and working him open further. “Oh? Has my kitty decided to play nicely, now?” He mused, fingers slipping from the lubed hole. Bruce tensed as Kal’s spit-slick cockhead pressed against him. Fingers slipping upwards to cover Bruce’s mouth, he sheathed his cock inside his lover in one brutal, spearing thrust. He couldn’t hold back the scream that tore from his lips.
No matter how much prep he got, Kal was always too big. He had carved a space inside Bruce long ago, ruining the cocks of mortal men. And Bruce loved being split apart, being destroyed by the Kryptonian’s thick cock. Nothing and no-one could ever compare to Kal.
When he was sheathed, he paused to let Bruce acclimate, arm banding around his waist to hold him steady, toes barely brushing the ground as Kal nipped his ear again. “Mine.” He growled, pulling out nearly all the way before snapping his hips forward with a hint of superhuman force. His cock was driven deep into Bruce, and the man could only moan, wrecked.
As he began to pound his hips in earnest, one hand reached under the bespoke suit jacket, finding purchase on a sensitive nipple and twisting sharply, adding endless layers of pain and pleasure to their little game.
“Who do you belong to?” Kal rasped, pounding his hips brutally against Bruce’s ass. The man moaned helplessly, each thrust taking more from him.
“Y-You, Kal, you!” He gasped out, the hand on his nipple shifting down, wrapping firmly around his dripping cock instead.
“Tell me again. Say it.” He snarled, fist working in tandem with his hips. Bruce couldn’t think between the sensations, his head fell forward against the cool wall, tears and drool marking it as he was being fucked stupid.
“Y-Yours! Oh, fuck, please, please,” He whined, words dissolving into gibberish moans as Kal’s thumb stroked over his sensitive head, thrust becoming more erratic.
His pace faltered, a guttural groan spilling from his lips as he slammed deep once again, flooding his insides with rope after rope of thick, Kryptonian cum. A few more strokes, and the wall was coated in his own release, a weak sob spilling from his lips.
Kal didn’t move for a long minute, listening to Bruce’s shattered breaths as his cum filled his precious partner. Once Bruce could breathe again, Kal eased his still rock-hard cock out of the man’s abused little hole. Before he could say anything, something cool was pressed against him. A plug, a big one, slick with seed, was pressed firmly into him, locking Kal’s release deep inside.
“Good boy,” Kal purred as he gave the plug a few experimental thrusts, relishing in the soft whimpers that each one fucked out of Bruce. “I’ll have to get a toy made for you that matches my size. You can wear it to board meetings, feel me with you,”
Bruce shuddered at the thought, his limp cock twitching. He would be thoroughly ruined if he had to keep Clark’s cock in him for hours.
Kal didn’t wait for him to say anything on the matter. Instead, he turned his lover around. With deceptive tenderness, he straightened Bruce’s clothes, smoothed out his hair, and leaned in to lick the tears off his cheeks.
“Now,” He hummed, brilliant smile spreading across his face. “Behave out there, okay? Nobody else needs to see what a slut you are behind closed doors.” He hummed, leaning in to give Bruce an adoring kiss on the forehead. “You know I don’t want to punish you, baby. But you need it sometimes, yeah?”
Bruce nodded slowly, legs shaky under him. “Y-Yeah,” He echoed, cheeks dark. The plug shifted as Kal led him back to the main hall, the copious amounts of cum a burning weight inside him.
And as they rejoined the party, he briefly wondered if Kal would go through on that free-use threat, or not.