Summary: Batman and Nightwing have tracked down Poison Ivy after she’s escaped, but only Bruce goes in after having a gut feeling something was off. Well, eventually something does come off.
Surveilling from the rooftops, Batman watched as small vines and plants poked out from the concrete of the building across from him.
He’d gotten word Poison Ivy was holed up in the building, seducing and controlling some poor bastards to stand guard at the door.
“Dick,” he started, altering his sidekick slash son, “Status?”
Nightwing suddenly appeared on the rooftop of the building Ivy was hiding in.
“Uh,” he chuckled, “There’s a bunch of goons—I’m talking about twenty or so.” He made a noise in his throat, reflecting his surprise, “Those poor idiots.” He chuffed again.
Batman stood on the edge of his building, veins thrumming in thought, “I'm going in,” his next words were deliberate, “Do not follow me.”
After diving off his roof and grappling to the other building, he heard Dick’s voice clearer now.
“Wait,” he looked at his mentor, expression obvious despite the mask, “I could help. There’s too many—”
Bruce wasn't having it, he could smell the pollen in the air; it carried a different scent than usual. “No,” he approached a floor grate, “Go back to the manor, Dick.”
His voice was gruff, his decision solid.
Nightwing sighed, his shoulders rising only to sink back down, “Call me if you need me?” It was a question, but also a begged request.
“Tell Clark I’ll be home soon.” With that, Bruce entered the floor grate, finding his way through the maze and into the building.
Dick shook his head, “Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he flipped off the roof, figuring it best to follow his orders.
It didn’t take Bruce long to find where Ivy was, the same odd smelling pollen luring him to her location.
He watched from the shadows in the ceiling as she sat ever so graceful on her throne of vines and foliage.
He had taken out her goons along the way, the task becoming easier as he ventured deeper. Although, as he did just that, the thrum in his veins shifted from that of thought to something more…heated.
He watched as she giggled to her plants, tongues and teeth appearing behind leaves and flowers. It seemed as though they could smell Batman, however, their small chirps turning into angered barks.
“There’s no point hiding anymore, Detective,” her silky, sultry voice pointed towards the dark, “my babies can smell you from here.”
She stood from her throne, glancing around for a sign of Batman.
“It’s time to go back, Pamela.” The vigilante made his position obvious, eventually jumping down to meet her eyes in his stance.
“Oh,” she pouted, making her way towards him, “but I was just starting to have fun…”
Batman felt as a small vine came to creep along his boot, slithering its way up higher, “Fun’s over.” He held handcuffs in his hand, opening them with deft fingers in preparation.
“Oh please, Batty Boop?” She ran a green hand up his chest, “I’ll even make it worth your while~” she batted her eyelashes and tilted her head, allowing that same unusual smell to be released from her neck.
Batman tried to resist the sudden sensations over taking him—the rapid heartbeat and flushed cheeks. The sudden blood flow to both the top and bottom of his head.
He quickly realized what was going on, holding his ground and ignoring the sensations the best he could.
With a quick step, he stomped on the vine around his leg, causing Ivy to yell out a painful cry, pulling away from him to clutch at her arm.
Her sudden movement gave him the opportunity to grab her wrists and lock the shackles onto them. As she recovered from the pain, he made haste in throwing her over his shoulder.
“Put me down you, you,” she paused for a second to kick him, “you brute!”
The sudden thrust to his side had a heat roll through him deliciously, making his step stagger ever so slightly.
Batman exhaled harshly, his gear becoming more and more restricting by the second. He made it out of the building, his car approaching in the distance.
Ivy stopped her tantrum, “It’s working isn’t it,” she giggled to herself, “you're all finicky and twitchy.” She giggled once more as Batman loaded her into the Batmobile.
“What are you talking about?” There was no point for this question, Bruce wasn't dumb—quite the opposite, actually.
He had his suspicions, but her confirmation would leave no room for doubt.
“I’m a beautiful flower, Batty,” she stayed still as she spoke, “My pollen, from time to time, may leave you a bit…sticky.” She stared at him, eyes lidded, thighs rubbing together seductively.
“Say…if you let me go,” she leaned in a little, exposing more cleavage, “I’ll ease that ache between your legs.” She bit her lip to punctuate her point.
If Bruce had been just a man, perhaps he would’ve taken her offer. Although, he was not, “I’m gay.” His voice remained steady and hoarse despite the tighter his pants became and the hotter his neck felt.
He watched her smirk, “Sure you are.” An incredulous tone overtook her. She opened her legs sensually before crossing one leg over the other.
When Batman stared at her with a stoicism stronger than Superman’s strength, she realized he wasn’t joking.
“Y-you’re dead serious?” Her eyes went wide with shock, and Bruce could see a look on her face that could only be embarrassment.
Leaving her shocked, mouth gaping like a fish out of water, he closed the door, ordering his car to return her to Arkham Asylum.
Bruce twitched as the car sped off, groaning to himself as the heat in his abdomen built.
The trek back to the Manor was grueling. The only thing on Bruce’s mind being falling deep into Clark’s hot, wet, tight little—
“Bruce?” A familial voice came from behind the door of the bathroom.
Bruce glanced away as Clark’s tall, strong silhouette appeared behind the glass shower door.
“Y’need some help?” Clark’s voice was soft, dutiful.
Bruce pushed his head deeper under the hot spray of the shower head. If he so much as looked at Clark, he would’ve pounced on the man.
“N-no,” he had to raise his voice a little due to the pour of water.
Though Bruce couldn't see, Clark quirked an eyebrow, pouting his lips in concern, “You sure? Dick said you seemed a bit tense when you came in.”
Bruce turned off the tap, sliding the shower door, presenting himself to Clark in all his naked glory.
Clark flushed quickly, averting his eyes from Bruce’s form. He stepped to the side as Bruce got out of the shower, not missing how rock hard he was.
Gulping, Bruce rasped, “I’m fine, baby,” his voice was strained as he wrapped a towel around his waist.
“A-and horny it seems…” Clark squeaked out, his chest becoming tighter from thrill. He watched as Bruce spread his fingers on the bathroom counter, jaw twitching at the words.
“…” Bruce glanced at Clark through the mirror, the heat racing through his body became hard to ignore the minute it started. He put his head down, the obvious tension in his shoulders revealing his state of mind.
He wanted to be relieved so bad of this pain, but didn’t want Clark to be guilt tripped into helping to do so.
There was a small silence, until Clark spoke up shyly. “I-I…could help.”
His words weren’t that different from Poison Ivy’s, but the effect they had was much more effective on Bruce.
Bruce turned around, chest heaving in need, “I came three times on the way here,” his eyes raking over Clark’s ironclad body lustfully. “Ivy and her fuck ass pollen…” he averted his eyes in shame. He had touched himself so many times he could qualify as a pornstar, and yet he needed more.
Clark realized what was happening, the flush on his cheeks becoming deeper.
He watched Bruce’s hands grip the side of the counter, sure of himself that he would break it. Slowly, Clark approached Bruce, the steam within the room clinging to him like honey.
“I can make it better,” Clark’s voice was tender, his hand running gently along Bruce’s abs, causing his husband to shudder.
Bruce’s eyes clung to the small green stone embedded into Clark’s wedding ring, a reminder that Clark was willing to weaken himself for Bruce.
A reminder that he’d give Bruce whatever he needed, sexual or not.
“Y-yes,” Bruce pressed his eyes closed, afraid that if he caught a glimpse at Clark’s eyes, that his self restraint would snap, “please.”
Bruce felt his head loll up, his neck suddenly being licked and sucked and marked by Clark’s purposed mouth.
Bruce growled deep in his throat, hands roughly gripping on Clark’s pajama shirt. He wasn’t just horny, he was in pain, feeling the throb between his legs grow stronger.
Clark moved his head down, kissing his way towards Bruce’s chest. He left a path of red marks and bruises in his wake, his lips finding the sensitive buds that were Bruce’s nipples. The minute his fingers and teeth pinched gently on the nubs, Bruce groaned, pushing Clark’s head closer to his chest.
Soon enough, Clark was kissing lower, his knees suddenly on the floor as he unwrapped the towel around Bruce’s waist.
Just as Bruce’s deft cock sprung from the confines, Clark caught it, wrapping his own strong, callused hand around the shaft. He started pumping Bruce at a steady pace, placing a slow, deep kiss on the tip.
“C-Clark,” Bruce gripped his husband’s hair with shaky fingers, “f-fuck.”
Clark was enjoying the view from below.
His husband, usually controlled and calm, face stoic with room for only the scruff on his chin, had been turned into a flushed, begging mess. A mess Clark knew he could clean with his tongue.
Speaking of, the muscle slithered from Clark’s mouth, licking a long stripe from the underside to the tip of Bruce’s cock. The man in question jerked his hips, desperate for more.
Clark felt the hands in his hair become tighter, moaning in his throat at the sensation. He looked up at Bruce innocently, kitten licking the shaft and watching the reactions he caused.
A low groan escaped Bruce once more, “C-Clark,” he exhaled heavily, “baby, please…” his mind foggy from pleasure.
Clark smiled up at him, shyly wrapping his mouth around Bruce’s thick length.
“Oh, fuck~,” Bruce hissed, feeling nothing but warmth and the tight grip of Clark’s mouth around him.
Sinking deeper until the head hit his throat, Clark’s eyes lit up. Bruce watched, with a lust clouded gaze, as Clark expertly removed his ring, allowing his full power to return.
The instant rush of strength had Clark moving quickly, grabbing Bruce’s hips in both hands and holding them tightly against the counter. It was then that he started bobbing his head expertly, making Bruce cry out and attempt to yank Clark’s head back.
The Kryptonian’s own hardon became harder, his shorts becoming annoying and too restricting.
Bruce tried to jerk his hips to go faster, craving to feel Clark deepthroat him, but his spouse was already quick to do so. Even if he tried, Bruce couldn’t lift his hips past where Clark held them.
By Rao, was he a mess, too; whining and throwing his head back in bliss as that familiar rumble snuck up his throat, his body nearing its peak.
Clark sucked harder, went deeper (somehow), and held Bruce tighter. He was careful not to inflict pain, of course, even if he knew Bruce liked it from time to time.
That rumble in Bruce's throat became deeper in pitch, “Sh-shit! Fuck, fuck, fuck, Clark!” He threw his head back, effectively hitting the mirror.
Clark waited until Bruce’s eyes rolled back, a sign he was one pump from his climax, before pulling away.
Clark pumped Bruce with his hand about two more times before he felt Bruce shudder and the warm splash of semen hitting his face.
Bruce bit his lip to stay quiet, knowing the house had other occupants. He’d usually take refuge in leaving a decent bite in Clark’s shoulder as he pumped load after load into him.
Clark took the facial with ease, closing his eyes to avoid it getting in them, but opening his mouth to get as much as possible. He knew Bruce liked seeing him all messy, so he figured he’d throw it in. He stuck out his tongue, letting Bruce pump himself dry of the last few drops of his massive load.
Bruce was breathing so heavily, he figured his lungs collapsed. Looking down at Clark in all his messy glory, he smeared his lips with the tip, spreading the white fluid over them like lipgloss.
Clark welcomed the attention, listening so happily at the sound of Bruce’s hammering heart. He opened his eyes to see two blue ones staring back at him, pupils blown so wide the windows looked black.
“W-was it good?” Clark looked away shyly, taking a glob of cum on his finger just to suck it up. He couldn’t help but ask every time.
Bruce huffed, confused by Clark’s words, “Of course,” he reiterated his point, stuttering as his breathing slowed, “Y-you’re always so perfect for me.” Bruce took Clark’s jaw in his hand, gripping it to admire his filthy face.
At Bruce’s firm touch, Clark shuddered suddenly, closing his eyes and breathing heavily. He mewled and moaned, dropping his head, hands clutching onto Bruce’s thighs.
Bruce watched, not sure what to do, “Clark?”
The man in question had stopped shuddering, but ultimately looked up with a guilty look on his face.
Bruce furrowed his eyebrows in worry, scared that his beloved was hurt.
Although, when he peered past Clark’s spread thighs, his worry became relief; a small heartbeat returning to his cock.
“Did you just…~” Bruce stared in awe, his heart somehow growing even bigger for the man beneath him.
Clark looked away, too flushed and shy to even speak. That had never happened before.
“Y-yes…” he gulped, his eyes still avoiding Bruce’s. The small sound of Bruce chuckling compelled him to look up, the wet spot on the front of his shorts so big you’d think he pissed himself.
Clark felt as Bruce wiped his face with a damp towel; how he hadn’t caught when Bruce got a towel and wet it was beyond his comprehension at the moment.
Bruce felt much better by then, a low heat still burning but not fully aflame.
Just then a wolfish grin overtook him, indicating he’d just gotten a bright idea.
“Think you can do it again?”
