Rescued (SuperBat fic)

13

Clark's face drops somewhat as the car pulls up to the grounds, as his eyes sweep over the tents, stalls and rides.
"It's a circus," he says, looking confused.
"Yeah. What, you don't like the circus?"
He shakes his head slowly.
"I was thinking I could win you a stuffie."
Clark chuckles quietly.
"Well I suppose, since we're here."
I take his hand and pull him out of the car. He mutters for a moment - am I sure we won't be papped? I tilt my head to Liam, following a few paces behind us. He'll keep us safe. We take quick strides to the hook-a-duck stall. I hand over a dollar and take the pole. Clark squeezes my hand, leans in and puts his mouth close to my ear.
"Go sir," he mutters. "I want the little moose on the end."
I chuckle.
"You're so fucking cornfed."
I turn to look at him, cup his chin.
"It's adorable." 
I drop my voice to add, "I'm going to fuck the innocence right out of you."
He trembles, pushes me gently, and tells me to focus on the game. The first duck I lift has a bare bottom. We don't win. The second is equally as useless.
And then I have a brainwave. I nudge Clark. I text him without taking my phone from my pocket.
Me to Clark: Oi, use your X-ray.
Clark smiles down at his phone, scans the ducks.
"This one here," he starts, pointing to the back left of the pond, close to the stall operator. "I have a good feeling about it."
I play dumb for the stall operator's benefit.
"Really? I was thinking over here."
I tap the front right duck.
"You never believe me," Clark pouts.
"Okay babe, but if you're wrong, I'll hold this against you."
Clark sticks his tongue out at me.
I lift the duck. Sure enough the black mark we want is there and we high-five, feigning surprise. The operator fetches down the little moose Clark wanted and I try not to be so charmed with the way Clark immediately crushes it to his chest and waves its little stuffed hooves at me. I high-five the moose.
"Clark, his little hoofs, look."
We chuckle together.
As we walk away, hand in hand, Clark's other arm still around the moose, I ask, "What are we naming the moose?"
Clark hums.
"Marty?"
"Nah."
"Morgan?"
"Nah, I dated a Morgan."
"Mervyn?"
"Oooh that's cute, yeah."
Clark nudges me.
"So what happened with this Morgan?"
"Oh not much; it was back in school, like a month in senior year."
I see Clark's eyes widen and the curious look he shoots me but I won't get into it. I lead him into the big tent and up to the back row of seats, away from the lights. Clark sits close, with one of his arms around my shoulders. He sets the moose on his lap and holds it upright with one hand. I watch, bemused, red cheeked and feeling goofy, as he points down to the ring and tells Mervyn to sit up and pay attention. The way he nurtures, even a stuffie, is so heckin' cute I think my heart might just burst.
We watch a magician and commiserate for the poor embarrassed soul he pulls out of the audience to assist him. Clark laughs to himself in the middle of the closing trick, an escape act, and I turn to him, curious.
"What's funny?"
"It's not funny, really," he mutters. "But does the sight of those chains and padlocks do it for you, sir?"
I clap him gently around the back of his head.
"Keep it in your pants, baby."
He looks down at me, biting his lip.
"I have, like you told me to. But I need something eventually."
"Oh you'll get it, later."
Clark turns his attention to the stuffie during the bike routine. The most he acknowledges me during the ten minutes is to put his hand on my knee when I left out a shriek and put my hands to my face to watch through my fingers. I put my hand over his and squeeze until the act ends.
And finally, the act I've been waiting for, closing the show, the Flying Graysons. We watch wide-eyed and silent as the family of acrobats performs daring stunts, as the mother and father perform tricks across the tightrope and the youngest, a boy, dangles artfully from a twirling hoop.
Clark and I rise to our feet to applaud them when the act is over and although Clark is quick to tug me out of the tent, I find my attention caught by some commotion. I lead Clark to the side of a tent on the edge of the ground and peek in. The Flying Graysons are inside; the kid in one corner, the parents cowering behind mobsters. Clark clutches at my arm and I shush him. The mobsters are threatening the Graysons, asking for money, roughing the patriarch. My chest floods with heat but when I go to step into the tent, I find myself struggling against one of Clark's arms, leaving tracks in the dirt as my feet cycle around. Huffing, frowning, I let Clark drag me back to the car and push me inside.
I glare up at him as he sits next to me and pulls the door shut. Being spread-eagled across the seat, I have my feet up, and use them to kick at Clark.
"I just wanted to help them."
Clark looks at me, sighing.
"You can't help everyone, especially not on date night."
"I'll show you what I can do," I mutter.
Clark doesn't dignify the bitter response.
As Liam starts to pull onto the road, I shift across the seat and throw myself around Clark. I settle astride his thighs, grab at his clothes, breathe into the inches between our lips.
"I want to ride you here, babe."
Up front, I hear Liam clearing his throat.
When I look at him, Clark is biting his lip. When he shuffles beneath me, I keep my face blank, try not to show how I'm thinking about reaching down between my thighs and jerking him off until he's almost wild with the thought of thrusting up into me.
"Liam, drive us to the waterfront, will you?"
I put my hands to Clark's cheeks and clutch at him as I grind down on his thighs.
Clark meets my eyes and says, "You want me to fuck you, sir?"
He sounds hesitant and confused.
"Yes. I want to use you."
He shifts, pushes his hips up towards me, bites his lip.
I lean in close to his ear and whisper, "I know no-one's fucked your ass, but have you fucked someone else's?"
I feel him nod.
I take his earlobe between my teeth and pull on it. He exhales heavily. His hands find my waist and pull my shirt out from my trousers. I pull his shirt over his head, then reach down between us and unbutton his jeans. He lifts his ass from the soft leather seat so that I can pull his jeans and boxers down his thighs to his knees.
His cock is red and throbbing, thick and upright. Exactly how I want it. He gasps when I put my hand around him and pump him tight and fast. I put my other hand to his mouth but loosen the grip when I see his eyes widen.
"Can't have Liam know everything we get up to, can we?" I whisper.
Clark nods and mimes biting at my palm.
"Bad boy," I mutter with a smile. "Sit still and take it for me."
He nods, his eyes dropping closed, his cock twitching inside my fingers.
The car lurches to a halt. Clark slips an arm around my back and pins me in place, my chest to his.
"Sir," Liam says. "Do you want me to take a long walk?"
I clear my throat and take a breath to clear the blush in my cheeks. Clark looks mortified beneath me.
"Yes. I'll text you when we need you again."
Liam steps out of the car, letting in a cold gust of Gotham air. When the door shuts, the car chirps as the locks activate.
"You're all mine," I tell Clark, smirking.
I take my hand from his mouth.
"Say it Clark."
"All yours sir."
"Good boy."
I reach into my suit pocket and pull out the lube and condom. Clark gasps and lets me push them into his hands. I shrug off my jacket and throw it aside, over Mervyn's face, where he rests in the footwell.
"Can't have our innocent little stuffie see what you do with me."
Clark shakes his head, smiling.
"Condom on."
Clark does as he's told.
I step off him and undress, hanging my shirt off one of the front seat headrests and draping my trousers over the others. Clark looks on bemused at the care but says nothing. I hear the gasp he lets out as my boxers hit the floor, as my cock springs up and meets my belly button.
"Lie across the seat, slut."
Once more he does as he's asked.
I settle astride him and prise the lube out from his fist. He watches, rapt, as I fuck myself with a slick hand. I let my eyes drop closed, put my head back, fuck myself until I am breathless, twitching, until my muscles are tight. I fuck myself right until I hit the edge, and then stop.
I rock against his thighs and his cock while I spread the lube across my cheeks, around the soft, tight bud of my ass, across my perineum.
I take Clark's hands and guide them to my waist, hold his palms tight to my skin as I grind my ass down onto his cock and feel it nudging between my slick cheeks. I lean forward, anchor one of my palms around his shoulder and put the other to his jaw, stroke across it.
"Finger my ass, Clark."
I push down against his body and tilt towards the hand that skims over my back and towards my ass. I drop my head to his shoulder as his fingertips tease around the tight bud and spread the lube. He waits for me to be ready. I put one of my hands to my cock and enjoy a couple slow, long strokes. The pleasure shoots about me, my cock twitches. I feel my ass flex under his finger and he wastes no time sliding it inside. His finger is cold with the lube. He bends it, wiggles it. 
I bite my lip and maintain the facade - I am unaffected by this, I am in control, I am using him.
I push back against his teasing digit, feel him sink a little deeper, feel the rosebud entrance grabbing at him, throb at the intrusion.
Hard as it is, I straighten above him, keep my head up. I pump my cock and ride his finger and let out only the moans that rip through me. 
He's wet with precum, thick and white, oozing gently out of his swollen head, pooling against the tight latex of the condom.
It's time. He needs it, me, and he needs it bad.
I take his cock in my hands. 
He moans for me, like the good, wanting little slut he is. 
I shuffle forward, bend low, put my hands either side of his head. I look into his eyes and let him do the work. He lifts his hips, pushes his cock through my cheeks. I shiver, bend my knuckles up for purchase, and wait for it. His cock nudges his finger. I can't help the groan that falls out of me when his head settles heavy against the tight rim of my ass. I push back against him, feel his hands spreading my cheeks, feel the rim start to give way. His first inch slides in.
He moans, and grunts, "Fuck."
I straighten up, push down, slide down to his hilt and stutter out his name. I put my hands to his chest and pull hard on his thin patch of hair. He wriggles beneath me, thrusts up absent-mindedly. His head drops back. The muscles in his arms are taut as he clutches my ass.
I ride him slow, wincing at the bitter edge of pain in his strokes. I fumble around the seat for the lube and we work together to apply more of it to his shaft and the tight, sensitive rim of my ass. The next strokes are softer but more intense, long and deep. As I rise and push down, the head of my cock bounces gently off his washboard abs, has me breathing heavy, gasping, panting. When I glance down, I can see the precum settling across my head. I reach down with a hand and spread it with my thumb, squeeze my shaft in my hand.
Clark moans, pulls out quick, slams back in. I bounce over him, taken aback, reach out blindly and plant a hand on the leather seat.
I take a deep breath, and use the dom voice, "Slow down Clark, you don't get to come first."
He groans but he doesn't fight the order.
I feel the waves start to course around me, rush back and forward between my cock and ass, up through my abdomen to the fast, disarming beat of my heart. It's all linked up - the throb of my cock, the push of his cock, the sucking grab of my rim on his thick, hard base. I lower myself against Clark, throw my arms over his shoulders and fist my hands in his hair as the sensations grow more and more intense.
And finally, I am shaken by the force of my orgasm, coming gloriously loud and messy. I glance down to see spurts of cum landing thick and sloppy over Clark's chest, matting his hair, running down his sides to pool across the seats beneath us.
Seeing as my face is so close to his, and seeing as that orgasm was everything, I lean down and kiss him. He moans into the kiss, pumps his hips, and wraps his arms around me.
I pull my lips off his and stare down into his eyes, let the facade crack and smile for him.
"Come for me baby."
He nods, shifts beneath me, and starts thrusting a little faster, a little more shallow, a little more desperate. My cock keeps on throbbing between us. I skim a hand across his cum-soaked chest, get my fingers dirty.
"Clark, open your mouth. I want you to taste me."
I slide two fingers into his mouth and he wastes no time sucking the cum from them. And I don't even need to ask him to tell me if he likes it - he hums his approval nice and loud.
And he bucks beneath me, drags his nails across my back, loses control of his thrusts. His cock nudges at the thick muscles inside me and I bite back a moan of discomfort, knowing he's losing his mind beneath me.
"Bruce! Fuck, sir, God."
I pat his cheek with my wet fingers.
"Decide who it is you're coming for baby."
He chuckles gently.
I push up from his chest, wince as I rise off his cock. I watch as his cock drops back against his stomach. His cum trickles gently out of the end of the condom, which is stained inside with trails that remind me of raindrops on windows.
I lie over his body, legs parted around one of his, and put my head to his shoulder. He takes one of my hands in his and holds it over his belly-button. We breathe heavily into the silence for a few minutes.
"Hey Clark, how was that for you, what do you need now?"
He turns his head to the side as he thinks. I stretch up and put my lips to his forehead and cheek.
"Burgers, like cheap shitty burgers."
I put a hand to his chin and turn his head so I can meet his eyes.
"Ooh, and a few episodes of my show before we sleep."
"Okay, we can do that."
I tap his cheek.
"We need to clean up."
I climb over him, lean over the seat and reach into the centre console to pull out the flannels, antibacterial spray and wipes that live in there. Clark sits up, twists around and wipes the cum off the seats with the wipes and then the flannels. I kiss his forehead and clean the cum off his chest. I put my arms around his neck for a moment and then start to get dressed. Whilst I'm buttoning my shirt, Clark, fully dressed having only had to pull on his shirt and pull up his boxers and jeans, waves the tied-up condom at me.
"Go find a trash can on the pier baby."
He nods and steps out of the car, his cheeks red, his breath still uneven. I take my jacket down and stow the lube back in the inside pocket before grabbing my phone.
Liam: Come back now.
Clark comes back first, dusting his hands off before settling next to me and closing the door. He looks down at Mervyn, still in the footwell, and laughs.
"Fucking hell, I can't believe that just happened."
I look at the broad smile on his face.
"Are you glad it happened though, happy with how it happened?"
Clark leans in and kisses my forehead, his hand over mine on the seat.
"Are you kidding? Of course, I'm happy. Tonight's been amazing."
The driver door opens and Liam slides into his seat with a straight face and no trace of embarrassment. A consummate professional as always. He is quiet as he clears the condensation from the windscreen.
"Where to sir?"
"A shitty burger place, then home."
"Alright," he mutters, leaning across to type something into the sat-nav before we set off.
Clark puts his head to my shoulder for the ride home.