Ties that Bind

by KungFuNurse

Summary: Bruce is in charge, Clark gets exactly what he wants.
Spoilers: none.  set in the comic-verse.  
Disclaimers: These guys all belong to DC.  They come over to visit, but they never stay the
night.
Pairings: Bruce/Clark.  Tim/Kon implied
Archive: Just ask first, please
Warnings: PWP  m/m. Adults only - it’s graphic sex so don’t read unless this floats your
boat.  Also BDSM themes.

And hey, this was my very firstest attempt at writing smut.  Hope you enjoy reading as
much as I enjoyed writing.  Feedback welcome. 
kungfunurse@visi.com

*_*_*_*_*_*

“Bruce, I’m married!”  

Clark struggles harder against the glowing lines that hold him.  He's in a spread eagle
position up against a wall in the Cave.  Except the wall he's tied to hadn’t been here the
last time he’d visited.  

It glows with a strange blue/gray fire that seems to fade in and out of existence even as he
watches.  The same fire runs through his bonds, effectively anchoring him to something
that isn’t acting like it comes from...from anywhere he’d ever been.  He can feel them, a
constant snug tension across his limbs.  But reality seems to tease his eyes, and it makes
him dizzy when he tries to stare at them for more than a second.  

He tries talking again.

“Bruce, you have to listen to me!  Look, I know you’re feeling...sort of...impulsive right
now, but...”

“Shut up,” Bruce murmurs quietly.  He raises a gauntleted palm and presses it against
Clark’s cheek.  The thumb rests against Clark’s lips, soft but firm.  If Clark hadn’t known
better he would have mistaken the look in his friend’s eyes for...tenderness?  Two fingers
slip up the side of his face and tuck his hair back behind an ear.

Lois’s voice echoes in his memory.  (When are you ever going to get that cut?  Honest
hon, you looked like a hayseed at the awards ceremony.)  Images flicker in his mind of her.  
He sees Lois digging in her purse for lipstick, not looking up.  Lois putting her latest
Pulitzer on the mantel next to the other two.  Lois slipping into running shoes and
checking her recorder for batteries before blowing him a kiss and running out the door.

Lois.  Right.

“Bruce, Lois is waiting for me and I really should be going...”

“You’re getting a divorce.”

“What?!”

“You.  Are.  Getting.  A.  Divorce.”  

Then a chuckle.  Deep and rich, like velvet against his skin, and he feels Bruce’s lips
against his neck, soft and yet not-soft.  This is *Bruce*.  Bruce's body that's hard and
warm and solid against Clark’s own.  Bruce’s breath that swirls warmly across Clark’s skin
and the Man of Steel feels his heart catch weirdly, then start up in a whole new rhythm.  
Faster.

“Ummm....yes.”  His voice sounds odd.  Breathy.  “I mean, well, of course but how did
you...?”

He trails off as Bruce slides both hands flat against Clark’s chest and begins massaging
the muscles there.

“Do I really need to answer that?”  Another soft chuckle.  Bruce has certainly been in a
much better mood than normal lately, Clark muses.  Well, since that madman with his plan
to take down the JLA had shown up, anyway.

And, mmmm.  That sort of feels...nice.  Clark is actually a little sore from rounding up the
rest of the League.  Diana had been the worst.  She’d set up court in the middle of New
York.  After the first ten or fifteen public castrations the rest of the citizens had been
remarkably passive, going along with whatever their newly insane Matriarch decided.

Not that she could actually be described as deciding anything.  That would imply some
sort of consideration.  Some level of conscious thought or planning.  

No, the word he was looking for was ‘Whim’.  The terrified New Yorkers had bowed to
Diana’s every whim, just hoping not to be noticed.

It wasn’t her fault, and Clark had tried to treat her as gently as possible.  In the end,
though, he found it’s incredibly tough to beat someone up gently.  He had finally dragged
a bleeding, broken, and much dirtier demigoddess back to the Watchtower and locked her
in there with the others.

Which was when he’d gotten the call he’d been waiting for.  The one he’d been hoping
for.  

Bruce.  Bruce calling him saying he’d found the cure.  Bruce with his calm voice and steady
hands telling him to stand over there...no just a little further...the cure was laced with
kryptonite...just a precaution in case Clark had needed a dose...don’t want to be exposed
now so just stand back a little further...

It had felt like being attacked by dozens of living ropes.  He was slammed back against the
wall, dragged by the lines that even now crisscrossed his shoulders, arms, legs, chest.  As
he realized that he was pinned, trapped, he had looked up in astonishment to see his
friend...smiling.

Crap.  It had gotten Bruce too.
------

Bruce nips the skin at his neck to get his attention.  And then does it again, just because
he wants to, apparently.  Clark tries his best to ignore the gasp that escapes past his own
lips.

“Look, Bruce.  I don’t...mmm...ummm...that is...”  Warm lips replace the teeth and Bruce’s
strong fingers begin tracing circles closer and closer to Clark's nipples.  Lightly.  Teasing.

“Look.  I don’t want to hurt you but you need...we...we need...”

Help.  Bruce you need help.  Say it, Clark.  Say the damn words.  Say-

His thoughts scatter as Bruce begins licking and suckling on his skin.  The warm, soft lips
leaving a trail of pure torture up his neck, behind his jaw, the warm breath so...good in
his ear.  So...

“Bruce!  Bruce please.  That stuff he put in the air vents!  It’s made you all crazy.  Insane!  
Impulsive!  You act out the first thing that comes in your head and
you’re...umm...oh...”

The gauntleted fingers brush once, twice across his aching nipples.  Clark’s eyes half close
against his will.  Oh god that’s good.  That’s, mmm, more.  He twists a little against the
ropes and realizes that he can, in fact, move.  He can move his hips anyway he wants to.  
Excellent planning on Bruce’s part, that.

Wait.

“Okay, hold on.  What kind of impulsive behavior is this?”  He tries to turn his head to face
his...attacker?  “You knew I was out rounding up the rest of the League.  You deliberately
waited until it was just you and me before calling.  And don’t tell me this little set up was
some spur of the moment thing-”

Twist.  And Yes.  Oh god yes his nipples are on fire and Bruce’s wonderful hands are
pinching, twisting, brushing him, stroking his chest, teasing.  And Bruce is grinning right
into his face.

God he’s so hard.  Clark can’t remember the last time he’d lost control of his body like
this.  He has control down to the *cellular* level.  He doesn’t get hard unless he wants to.  
And he doesn’t!  He really doesn't!  Not with Bruce!  Not ...ohhhh.

Clark moans softly into Bruce’s mouth as the other man covers his lips with his own.  The
kiss starts out as light and teasing as the fingers.  But with Clark’s moan Bruce’s whole
body seems to...shiver.  Something wakes up deep inside the man and the kiss intensifies.  
A hard, demanding tongue slips into Clark’s mouth and he finds himself sucking, moaning
harder, wrapping his tongue around Bruce’s, feeling his hips pushing against Bruce’s hard,
strong thigh.  Yes, god yes Bruce is good.  If there’s some form of martial arts for tongue-
fu Bruce is doubtless a master...

He pulls away from Clark with a snarl and stalks across the cave.  

Clark gasps for air and tries to rally his lust filled brain.  Really, he thinks, it makes a
desperate sort of sense.  Despite all the set up, all the work that has gone into this
trap...well, it’s Bruce.  This is almost certainly as impulsive as the anal-retentive bastard
ever gets.

Bruce turns around with a small, sharp knife in his hands.  Not ordinarily something to
worry Clark, but there is kryptonite somewhere here in the cave.

Bruce seems to see something on his face and smiles that quiet little smile again.

“Clark.  Oh, my Clark.”  The chuckle echoes off the walls.  “I’m not going to hurt you.”

He stalks back towards Clark, the knife held low in front of him, the easy predatory grace
too fascinating to look away from.  

Clark’s groin is aching now as a cold wet spot soaks through his tights.  His hips miss
Bruce’s thigh to grind against.  He grunts a little and shifts against the ropes.  He needs
the firm muscle against him.  God he wants...no.  No he doesn’t.  Even though he's
divorcing Lois, they are still, at this precise second, married.  And even though Bruce has
teased and haunted his dreams for years, this isn’t Bruce.  Not really.  Bruce wouldn’t have
chosen this.  Bruce wouldn’t-

Bruce wouldn’t be holding Clark’s shirt out away from his skin far enough to slip the knife
under it.  And he definitely wouldn’t be grinning like that as the blade tears easily through
the thin cloth.  Away from the protection of Clark’s body, the uniform is just regular cloth,
and is easily stripped from his chest and arms.  

Oddly, the dimly burning ropes didn't seem to mind the shirt passing through them.  They
just hug happily to his bare skin as the shirt is lifted off.

"Umm, Bruce?"  He asks in an attempt to distract himself from Bruce's actions.  The knife is
twisting playfully down past a nipple, across his abs, lower, towards his painful erection.  
"Ah, what are these made of?"

"Magic," Bruce murmurs. "Supposed to trap demons.  Zatanna drew the rune for me."

Then in two quick slices that make Clark jump in reaction, the blue and red fabric around
Clark's groin is sliced away.

Bruce stares, seemingly forever at Clark's full, throbbing erection.  Clark bites his lip and
throws his head back, unable to bear that intense gaze.  God he’s swelling harder, his balls heavier,
thicker, so incredibly tight.  He squeezes his eyes closed and tries to think of something,
anything Bruce might listen to.

"Lois and I, we're...trying to reconcile,"  he gasps out.  "I mean, yes we filed for divorce, but
we're thinking about changing our...nnnyaaahhhhh!!!!"

Clark's scream echoes through the cave. Bruce's lips are wrapped around his cock and he's
never felt anything so exquisite.  Whimpering, he rocks his hips ever so slightly, feeling
Bruce's mouth sliding over his head, down his shaft, just enough to drive him blind with
need.

"God Bruce, oh please don't stop.  Bruce, please..."

One of Bruce's hands is wrapped around the base of his shaft, the other traces patterns on
his thigh.  Christ, he’s going to explode in flames right here.  Clark can feel his control
slipping, feel his core temperature skyrocketing.  He starts radiating heat like an oven,
making Bruce sweat as he teases and sucks at Clark.

The sweat is intoxicating.  Clark breathes in Bruce's natural pheromones and tastes
Bruce's scent.  He can feel each individual scent particle exploding inside his blood and he
groans and flexes, thrusting deep into Bruce's mouth.

Bruce, responding, grows savage.  He growls deep in his chest and grabs Clark's ass
with both hands, sinking his teeth deep and fierce into Clark’s shaft.

"YES!!!"  Clark screams, and screams again as Bruce tears his mouth away.  Bruce is all
hunger.  All savagery.  Teeth bared in a beautiful snarl he rips the Batsuit off his body and
throws himself on Clark.  Mouth claiming mouth, teeth biting red, swollen lips.  Tongue
hard and hot and fucking Clark's mouth until he thinks he could come just from this.  Just
from this gorgeous, savage release that no other lover of Bruce’s has ever seen.

But Bruce shifts slightly, reclaims Clark's ass and slams himself deep into the restrained
man.

Clark tries to speak but screams of painful pleasure are ripped out
of him instead.  Completely unprepared, his ass is tight and small and Bruce just fucks
into him knowing he can take it.  Knowing nothing will truly hurt him.  Knowing that deep
in Clark’s most shameful fantasies he wants the pain.

"Oh fuck Clark!”  Bruce’s voice, whispers hoarsely in his ear.  “God you're burning, oh
damn, oh god, oh!"  Bruce strokes and thrusts and fucks his way to Clark's
overheated core, the heat seeming to drive the man mad.

So hot, so wet, so thick...Bruce's sweat slicks both of them, making Clark’s sac wet and
slippery, dribbling down their thighs as Bruce thrusts and Clark rocks and pumps his hips
in time.  God, his cock is trapped between their stomachs, hot and leaking and so close,
so close, god Bruce touch me, why aren't you touching me!!

Clark has an instant to realize he has been yelling in Kryptonian before his mouth is again
possessed by Bruce's and he sucks, bites, needs, god please almost there, now please
Bruce now!

His orgasm rocks him to his core, curling his hands into fists, spurting searing hot come
onto their stomachs, making Bruce scream, making him clutch Clark and come so hard
the man's whole body goes stark and rigid.

Slowly the tension drains out of Bruce.  He withdraws, looks shakily into Clark's eyes, then
topples over.

Great, just perfect.

"You know, you could have untied me before collapsing.  Bruce.  Bruce?"
--------

Bruce wakes with a punishing headache.  He aches everywhere.  Except his belly, which
feels a bit tender.  Almost sunburnt.  And he’s cold.  No.  He’s naked.  And cold.  And Naked.  
In the Batcave.  

Confused, he lifts his eyes and squints through the haze clouding his vision.  Slowly things
come back into focus and the Dark Knight just gapes.

Hanging above him, tied to his wall, is a very naked, very pissed off Superman.

Clark's eyes are glowing red, his perfect muscles are bunched and tense, his whole body
radiating fearsome menace.  Except his cock, which is hard and throbbing and looks like
it’s been that way for a while.

"What the hell are you doing here?"  The automatic remark snaps out of him before his
brain can catch up with his mouth.

If possible, Clark’s eyes get even more ominous.

"What am I doing here?" growls the pissed off alien strapped to his wall.

Bits and pieces of memory come sneaking back, and Bruce groans and holds his head in
both hands.  Sitting on the cave floor is cold on his ass, but the heat sweeping off of Clark
is making his face and shoulders warm.

"Well," he ventures finally, "You, ah, didn't seem to mind too much."  He opens one eye
and gestures vaguely towards Clark's impressive display of not-minding.

The anger sort of leaks out of Clark, replaced with a rather sheepish look.
 
"Umm, that's just because it's dawn," he mumbles.

“What?”

“DAWN.”  Clark says louder.

Bruce just stares at him, befuddled.

"Well," Clark mumbles, twisting a little in his restraints and blushing all the way down to
his gorgeous cock, "Dawn's always been a, um, special time for me."

Bruce sits there, contemplating his options.  He can run now, and maybe find a place small
enough to hide that Clark won’t find him immediately after getting free.  Maybe.

Clark turns his face away and shifts in embarrassment again.  Probably from
embarrassment, thinks Bruce.  The tip of Clark’s gently curved erection is wet now, and
leaves a little trail on his stomach every time the man breaths.  In, out, another drop
forms at the tip.  Hot, wet....

“I’ve never had to explain this to so many people before.” Clark mutters.

“What?”  Bruce pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to get his brain back online.  

“Well, what with the birds and bees talk Kon and Tim and I had the other day.”

“What!”  Bruce drops his hand and surges to his feet.

“Oh.  God, Bruce.  Didn’t, um, didn’t Tim tell you?”

Bruce’s eyes narrow, and despite being completely naked, it’s Batman staring out now.

“Oh.  Crap.  Um, I didn’t mean to break a confidence-”

“Spill it!”  Batman snarls.

“Kon, he, well, he had some questions when he and-”

“Tim?  Kon and Tim?”

“Now Bruce, they’re teenagers.  They’re superhero teenagers.  What with all the
adrenaline and the hormones ...I  mean look at the League!  There’s more sex going on up
in the Watchtower...” Clark trails off as Batman’s mouth twists into a dangerous line.

“I did not send Robin to the Titans to have weekend flings with some horny teenager in a cape!”

“Wait a minute.”  The red glow is back in Clark’s eyes.  “That teen is my son and he’s
been very responsible, very caring towards Tim."

“Of course he’s your son,” rasps the Dark Knight.  Your contribution to his alien
physiology is practically impossible to ignore!”  

As if to prove his point, Batman reaches out and squeezes Clark’s erection, forcing a hiss
of pleasure from him.

Batman licks his lips.  Shifts a little.  Despite his ire his beautifully scarred body is
beginning to get ideas.

He slides his hand up and down once, twice, his own groin starting to swell and tighten.  
He needs to show Clark that ‘Man of Steel’ or no, Bruce is the one with the power.  He needs
Clark to listen to him, to answer his next question very, very honestly.

"Are you and Lois really trying to reconcile?"

Clark looks a little confused at the non sequiter, then shakes his head, apparently trying to jumpstart his brain.  "No," he says softly.  "Three years of marriage, an affair, two different marriage counselors...no.  Now we're just trying to keep it civil."

Batman feels something tight unknot in his gut.  Something so painful he hadn't even
known it was there until it dissolved.

“But...”

His gut clenches again.

“But what?”

“I, I thought we were talking about the boys.”

Batman pauses, and then a slow, sly smile lifts the corners of his mouth.

“Later.”  His hand squeezes a little harder.  “I think I’d like to see what makes dawn so special.”

And his chest hurts with a wonderful ache when Clark just looks at him.  And smiles.

fin.


These are my two favorite heroes.  *sigh*  Clark is such a sweetie.  Deep down Bruce just finds him too adorable, I’m sure.

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