Rescued (SuperBat fic)

18

Clark is here in half an hour. He is quick to move to the other side of the room. Neither of us sits down.
"What the fuck, Clark? I thought I knew what you were writing about me but..."
He opens his mouth and I hold a finger up to silence him.
"Fuck, I had the plans spread out the first time you were here. Have you been using me this whole time?"
He stutters out a no but I keep talking.
"And you have made me look shady, made me sound like a backdoor businessman. You have made me look like I don't know what is going on in my house!"
"You don't," he shouts.
I narrow my eyes.
"You better explain yourself, right now."
"Look, the document came to me from a mid-level employee, who told me the payment came from higher up."
I nod.
"I assume you've dealt with planning permission before," he says. "Have things always moved so quickly for you?"
I think back to the last big project.
"It took forever."
"And this one moving so fast didn't surprise you?"
"I have a good team, organised, efficient, intelligent. Our application would have been flawless."
He shakes his head.
"Bruce, someone's done something."
I slap the desk with a palm.
"I don't miss things."
I wait a few moments.
"This is you. I haven't been able to work since -"
I stalk around the desk and over to him.
I growl again and push at his chest. He stands firm, with his feet planted, and doesn't even rock when I push at him.
"Fuck I need this to be over."
I put my head against his chest, bang my forehead off his collarbone. His hands find my chin and he lifts it, has me look up at him. His eyes are red. He's chewed strips off his bottom lip.
"You are not in the clear just yet," I tell him. "I don't care who signed off on all this or what your sources said, you should have told me first, given me time to put my house in fucking order."
He nods.
I walk him back to the sofa and push him down onto it.
"I'm not dumb enough to think the fight is over," he mutters. "So what are we doing?"
I sigh.
"You drive me crazy," I groan. "And I can't do anything about this clusterfuck. So I'm going to not think and do you."
Clark gulps.
"Okay."
"I need to be rough, at least a little, and I need to fuck you, really fuck you."
"My ass? Now? You want to fuck my ass here, now?"
"Yes, I need it."
Clark shrugs off his blazer, pulls his t-shirt off by the collar, puts his hands to his belt buckle.
I stretch forward and take his chin in my hands and kiss his forehead, nip at his eyebrows.
He unbuckles his belt and starts to push his jeans down. I kneel, loosen his laces and pull off his shoes. His jeans hit the floor.
I push his shoulder until he shifts around and lies spread across the leather seat of the couch. His eyes flick back and forward over my face as I kneel over him.
He's already hard, thick under his boxers.
"Fuck yourself," I tell him.
I rise and undress, feel the cool air of the office on my skin.
Clark ditches his boxers, then closes a hand around his shaft and starts to fuck himself off. He moves his hand quickly, holds himself tight with white knuckles. I watch his cock flex against his fingers. He bites his lip and shifts on his back, pushing his hips up against his fist.
I toe off my shoes, drop my clothes to the floor and watch as he takes his balls in his other hand and rolls them, squeezes them.
He groans.
"Aren't you going to touch me?"
"Not yet, slut."
He gasps, says, "Bruce."
An apology struggles on my mouth.
"I told you, Clark, I'm not happy with you."
I walk over to the desk and hit the call button.
"Tilda, guard the office doors with your life, please. And put some earphones in."
"Okay sir," she says.
I let go of the button and turn to him.
"Someone else should be calling me sir right now."
"Yes sir," he answers quickly, still fucking himself.
He's hard and horny but not desperate.
I kneel over him, put my hands on his wrists and push them back behind his head.
"I like you like this, a little helpless."
He nods, bites his lip.
His cock pushes against my body when I stretch up to bite on his neck. He groans and shakes beneath me.
"Oh sir," he bites out. "I've been bad, I'm so sorry."
"No you're not."
I bite his collarbone, suck hard on his skin and smile to myself when the hickey blooms large and purple.
"But you will be, when I'm through with you."
I push my hips down and grind down over his cock, feel the friction, feel my boxers wrinkle and shift down with the movement. My cock pushes against his, my head thick and tender when it meets his stomach.
I skim my lips down to the middle of his chest and bite some more, leave a few hickeys on his skin, leave him bruised.
I'm going to make a mess of him. And he's going to take it, and like it, and want it.
I tap his chest, step off the sofa and lean down to my jacket for the condom and lube in the inside chest pocket. When I turn back to him, he grabs hold of my arm and meets my eyes.
I wait to see if he has something to say.
I lean down and kiss him as gently as I can manage right now.
I moan into his mouth, push my tongue against his, then put my hands to his cheeks as I draw away.
"Is that better?"
He nods.
"Clark, if I'm going to be as rough as I want to be, I need to know that you can tell me to stop."
"Okay," he mutters. "Would you just touch me, sir?"
I skim my hands down his body, squeeze his cock for a moment, then drag my fingertips down over his balls, down to his ass. He tilts his hips up into my hands and lifts his head to watch me. I squirt some of the lube onto a finger and press it to his ring, rub the muscle.
He gasps and buckles.
I look up into his face, at the smile on his lips.
The tight rim of his ass flexes under my finger and I press a little harder, slide my finger inside his ass.
He groans.
I bend my knuckle and pull my finger out an inch or so.
He bites his lip and grinds against my finger.
As I push my finger deeper, I ask, "Do you like that?"
He nods.
"Would you like more?"
"Yes please," he murmurs.
I squirt some lube onto my fingers and slide another into his ass.
He moans.
"You good baby?"
"That feels so - much."
I push my tongue against my teeth.
"In a good way?"
"Yes," he breathes.
Even so, he winces when I withdraw my fingers.
"More lube," he squeaks.
I remove the spray cap from the lube bottle, dip a finger inside, skim my fingertip around his ass once more and slide it back in.
He bucks closer, lifts his hips. I grab one of the cushions behind me and push it under his ass.
He drops his head back against the sofa and puts a hand back around his cock. Its head is wet with precum.
"Are you ready?"
"Yes Bruce," he says.
I take my finger from his ass and carefully pull on the condom. I spread a palmful of lube along my length. The wet slap of my strokes fills the room and Clark bites his lip as his shoulders shake with chuckles.
Now is not the time for him to be cute and bashful like this.
I push my hips against his and feel my cock nudge low between his legs, against the slick, soft skin of his perineum. I put a hand to the base of my shaft and set my head against his pink, puckered ring. He breathes deliberately, slowly, presses himself against my head.
I drop my head and drink in the sight of him. His messy hair, his flat chest, his thighs spread wide about my body.
I shuffle back and set my hands on his thighs, hold them still as I push my thumbs into his ass. He shakes and groans. I wait a moment, then press my thumbs deeper, to their bases, rub them over his perineum.
I see a fresh burst of precum settle across the head of his cock and streak down his shaft.
Clark pushes his hips toward me and winds down on my thumbs. I pull them out and see how his ring flexes around my thumbs, how it yawns open.
I am quick to set my head on the puckered muscle but slow to push in the first inch.
Fuck, he's tight, squeezing at me.
I moan and fall forward over his body. I put my hands to the base of his neck and press my mouth to his.
When I pull away, I meet his eyes to ask, "How's that?"
He wriggles beneath me, sets his feet flat on the leather and tilts his hips.
"Good, but I want more," he whispers.
I withdraw an inch, wincing at the way his body grabs at me, then push back in, deeper. My thighs rub on his as I thrust. His hands find my shoulders and grip hard, his nails dragging across my skin.
I push my cock against his walls, bite back my groan and bury my head in his throat.
I pull out, to my last tender inch, slam back in. Clark rocks with me, drags his nails down my back. I hiss into his skin and work my hips against his. I feel his cock flexing between us and press my belly down onto it.
I fuck him deep and hard, rubbing my last inch on his thick rim.
He grabs my head and pulls me in for a kiss. I bite his bottom lip and tug on it when he tries to pull away.
And it doesn't take long. Because first times are always that little bit more intense. He shakes underneath me, wraps his legs around my back, crushing me against him, anchoring me deep inside him.
I pump my hips as best I can and snatch a kiss from his lips.
I feel it when he comes, feel the thick rush of cum burst out of him and jet up against my belly and across his stomach.
When I push up from his stomach, we come apart with a squelch. There's no not laughing, so I let him have a moment to be cute.
I sit back on my knees, keep just my last inch inside of him, tease him with the gentle wind of my hips.
Still, his orgasm works through him. He pants. His cock twitches. He groans when he stretches out his legs. He puts his hands to his face, then drops them to his cum-soaked cock.
He moans.
"How do you do that?"
"Do what?"
"Make me come when you've barely touched me."
"Clark, what do magicians never do?"
"Magic."
I hate the laugh that falls out of me.
"No," still chuckling. "They never reveal how the trick is done."
Clark makes an oh face, puts his hands down and grabs my knees.
I look down into his wide, happy eyes and red cheeks.
"Alright then," he grunts. "Keep your secrets."
I stretch forward and take his cock into my mouth. I suck gently, feel the thick, salty cum glide across my tongue. I swallow eagerly and hum. He groans, presumably at the vibration.
I pull my mouth off him, content that he's clean, then stretch further forward and lick the cum off his stomach.
He shifts beneath me. His ass slides down the cushion, pushes down my length. I bite back a groan and wind against him.
I slam in deep, hit his walls.
A groan falls out of my mouth.
Clark reaches up, grabs my neck and pulls me in for a kiss. I breathe against his open mouth, moan through the kiss and struggle against him, grind my head against his ridged walls.
I drop my head to his shoulder and grab at his biceps as I thrust.
He holds me close, his hands on the small of my back, his fingers digging into my ass cheeks. He rocks my hips into his, and I let him maintain the quick, rough pace until I am gasping into his shoulder.
I turn my head and bite the underside of his jaw as I shake against him. I grind against him, clutch at him with white knuckles as my cock flexes, as the cum floods out of me. I feel it ooze against the latex and track down my shaft as I withdraw.
I shuffle back, grind my head down into the leather as I fix my eyes on his ring. It's red, a little swollen, and dripping lube.
I put my mouth to his balls, skim my mouth down his perineum, to his rim. I push my tongue against it and listen for the moan I know he'll make. Sure enough, the music plays.
His hands find my head and pull it off his body.
I look up into his eyes and smile.
"Thanks baby."
"For what?"
"I was a mess and now I'm not."
Clark gestures to his cum-soaked stomach and the slick patches on the leather.
"You sure you're not a mess?" He says.
I push at him. The leather squeaks under his body.
I rise to my knees and pull him up with me. I take him into the bathroom and push him towards the shower. I lean back on the sink and watch him clean himself up as I gargle with mouthwash. When Clark chuckles to himself, I nearly gag laughing, and turn quickly to spit it out.
I step into the shower with him and scrub him clean.
"You alright?" I ask.
He nods, puts his nose to my hair.
"A bit tender," he murmurs. "But I guess that's normal."
I kiss his cheeks and hug him under the hot spray of the shower. We stand here until my fingertips start to feel a little pruney and then I pull him out and wrap him up in a towel. I wrap a towel around my waist and pat his cheek before I step back out into the office.
I grab antibacterial wipes from my desk and scrub us off the leather as best I can. I take the throw from the closet and hang it over the sofa. I take the cover from the cushion and stow them both in a laundry bag.
I find Clark leaning on the bathroom door frame, one of his thumbs on his chin.
"You're so neat," he mutters.
"I'm not going to make someone else clean up my mess."
Clark tilts his head.
"Speaking of mess -"
I feel my smile fall away as I speak. "You're going to help me clean up yours."
He nods.
"I'm sorry, Bruce," he says.
"Don't," I tell him. "Just fix it with me."
I throw him his clothes. He catches them with ease and ducks back inside the bathroom. I don't bother going out of sight, just dry off, drop the towel and dress quickly, gathering the towels for the laundry. I leave my tie and jacket off, hang them behind my desk, then roll up my sleeves. Clark bites his lip as he steps out of the bathroom, fully dressed, looking dazed.
"Do you need anything before we get to work?"
He shakes his head.