Early morning superbat shenanigans. I swear it was supposed to be soft morning schmex
Bruce wakes up with a muffled groan, squeezing his eyes shut as if it can force himself to fall back asleep. But it doesn't work, not when the featherlight touches are still brushing across his thigh. There's a solid heat curled behind him, a warmth that is attached to the hand tracing mindless patterns on his bare skin.
As much as he loves Clark, he would really appreciate a few more hours of sleep. Bruce gives another disgruntled grunt, hoping that it would be enough to ward the super off. There's a deep chuckle rumbling against his back before the hand dips under the large shirt he's wearing, continuing to map its way across his hip.
Much to his annoyance, a small smile quirks across his lips. Everything feels so soft and fuzzy in this space between sleep and consciousness, and Clark is just so warm around him.
Clark's hand wanders to stroke across his belly and Bruce lets out a sleepy, content whine. He feels himself slipping back into the darkness, only for Clark's fingers to move lower. Immediately, his pussy clenches excitedly, greeting the familiar heat of those thick appendages.
But Clark doesn't do more than drag his fingers so maddeningly slow across his mound. It tickles, the phantom brushes across his soft tissue, two fingers circles and strumming his skin. The layer of lace between them just magnifies every sensation.
Clark bites back a pleased smile when his little bat shivers in his arms. There's nothing he loves more than seeing Bruce all relaxed and sleepy, well, other than seeing Bruce on full Batman-mode. He continues his ministrations, delighting at how his touches slide fluidly over the silky fabric, how his senses pick up the tiniest twitches in his pretty wife.
Clark curls his fingers, turning the pads of them inwards so his rounded, rougher fingernails meets Bruce's mound. Just one sharp scrape and Bruce jolts against him, shivers trembling across his entire body. Clark can hear how the other's heartbeat picks up and his fist clenching to find purchase against the new sensation.
Bruce whines as Clark begins to pet him, just the barest tickle of his fingers alternating with sharper scratches, every single touch rubbing the lace against his sensitized, smooth skin. It's a maddening twist between ticklish and pleasure, toeing the line between making him jerk away or push himself up against Clark.
Clark dips one finger lower, brushing the one puffy lip, and Bruce gasps, thighs falling open easily. It's a clear invitation but Clark doesn't do more than run his fingers along the edges of his fucked out cunt and back up.
It goes on for what felt like hours to him, the only indication that time has passed is how his eager pussy is slowly dripping, slicking up his thighs. Clark carefully avoids his wetness, seemingly intent on driving him insane first.
The pleasure builds in his core, tightness clenching in his belly. Bruce gives an aborted thrust, one that's quickly shut down by a large hand tightening around his hips.
"Shhhh, just let me take care of you, sweetheart," Clark shushes him. His fingernails graze the puffy lips, just lightly, but still making Bruce arch with a pained gasp against him, toes curling hard.
The silky lace has turned into the sweetest torture, rasping against his skin, keeping Bruce from feeling Clark's touches directly. He moves one hand to peel it off but it's as if Clark knows what he's trying to do. "No."
Bruce lets out a petulant whine. He's already wet and ready for anything. His swollen clit throbs in anticipation, pulsing with the slow waves of pleasure. He shifts his hips, trying to entice Clark into doing more.
"What do you want, baby?" Clark teases him, strumming his fingers and feeling how Bruce's is quivering against him. "You want me to give you more?"
Usually Clark will make him beg, but he's feeling generous today. Clark switches to tease a finger over Bruce's hole, his own cock giving an excited throb at the sheer wetness that met him. Bruce is so puffy and open from last night that he can just slip inside.
Bruce almost comes when the tip of a thick finger breaches him, thighs spreading impossibly wider. This is it. Clark will fuck him and he can go to sleep completely sated.
But that appendage simply sinks into the first knuckle before it hits him. The finger pushes in, pushing his panties into himself, the tight little thing dragging and tightening over his swollen clit. Bruce yelps, jerking back and pressing himself against the hard length resting by his ass. "Cl-clark," he gasps.
The finger withdraws and Bruce does not think of how good it will feel like if Clark keeps thrusting, if Clark just fucks him with his own panties stuffed deep inside himself. Nope.
This time Clark runs his fingers upwards. The barest brush against his clit has Bruce bucking up with a wet moan, mindlessly rutting against the invulnerable hand. The super is just enough that he keeps still, not stopping Bruce until he realizes himself. Bruce halts, a flush of heat coloring his cheeks. But his clit still twitches, as if it's still searching for the pleasure of Clark's hand. "Stop teasing," he grunts.
"I'm not teasing. I just like to see how needy my little slut is." His point is made by a brief press of his fingers that immediately has Bruce's rutting up before he forces himself to stop. "Just take what you need, baby."
Clark rubs his knuckles over the swollen clit, every ridge bumping against the sensitive flesh. Bruce lets out a string of moans as he rolls his hips, grinding and grinding agisnt the firm, teasing pressure. The heat burns hotter in him, shooting down his spine, and he chases that high. All the blood in his body rushes between his legs, pulsing to his heartbeat.
"That's it," Clark rumbles. Gentle kindness that lulls him into a state of calm, allowing Clark to withdraw slightly. Then, one sharp flick against his clit and Bruce wails. His back snaps taut as the waves of pain and pleasure rocks through his core. It hurts and it's so good and his mind is jumbled with how the wires are crossed and it hurts so good.
Clark doesn't waste a beat before his fingers descend, roughly nudging the panties aside and pinching the painfully hard nub. Bruce's legs tries to twist shut, protecting the place from where the sweetest torture comes. Clark pins his legs down underneath his, keeping Bruce spread, as his fingers relentlessly play with that little button. He pinches and twists and tugs Bruce's clit, holding the other in place as he struggles and sobs. It's so hot and swollen, an angry red that pulses in his hands. Clark wonders if he can have it pierced one day, so he can decorate Bruce in the finest jewels, maybe with the crest of El to mark him.
Bruce trembles as the cruel fingers flicks and strums his clit, thighs quivering with the need for more and please and stop.
"My pretty little slut. My needy sweetheart," Clark whispers, his free hand comes in and presses on the lace still covering Bruce's pussy. The loud squelch betrays the soppy wetness between his legs and Bruce finds himself valiantly trying to hump into both hands, every ounce of shame thrown away for the pleasure that only Clark can bring him.
"Clark, need you to fuck me," he begs, pushing his clit into the fingers circling it while his hole drips into the other hand. "Pleaseee."
Every nerve ending in his body lights up with excitement when Clark pushes the piece of lace out of the way, plunging two fingers immediately into his cunt. The pace is fast and rough, stretching him open on the fingers that're actually nothing compared to the super's sheer size. They crook slightly, hitting that spot inside him and his eyes roll back, vision whiting out for a second that the flood of heat.
When he comes to, Clark is already dragging out his fingers. The feeling of his thick cock spearing him open will never get old and Bruce moans desperately, feeling how his pussy is spreading around him, molding itself to be the perfect fleshlight for the super.
Clark pounds into Bruce with a single minded determination to breed him, plunging deep and slow inside him. Bruce is always so tight and hot, his walls clenching hard around his length, milking Clark for all he has. He shifts his thrusts, getting the perfect angle, and Bruce guttural moans escalates into higher-pitched whines.
Every moan and scream fuels the thrusts of his hips, his fingers continuing their teasing on the clit. He can tell which touches makes Bruce tighten up a little more and which touches makes him go slack with pleasure.
He slowly picks up speed, deep thrusts turning faster and faster until his pretty wife is bouncing against him. He knows that the other is close. One final thrust and a sharp tug of clit has Bruce coming with a yell, squirting so hard that he gushes around Clark, head thrown back in ecstasy. Clark will never tire of that sight. He will also never tire of how Bruce tightens up so perfectly and he comes, shooting spurt and spurts of cum into the willing body.
His cock is milked by the tremors running through Bruce and Clark grins, satiated, as he presses gentle rewarding kisses onto the crown of his head. "So perfect, B. And all mine," he whispers, amused at how those words also has Bruce shivering with pleasure.
