Rescued (SuperBat fic)

3

My phone buzzes across the desk. My heart skips when I see Clark's name flash up on the screen. I lift my phone with shaking fingers and clear my throat.
"Bruce?"
"Yeah."
"You wanted to spar. I have an opening in my schedule if you still want to take me on."
Take him on. Boy, he has no idea what I want to do with him.
"When?"
"Tonight. I'll text you the address of the gym."
"You're on," I tell him.
When I spin in my chair, I see my reflection in the mirror on the opposite wall. I don't recognise my face, with its broad smile and wide eyes. I bite my lip and frown.
"Bye, man."
And the call cuts off with a beep. I throw my phone over to the sofa on the other side of the office and watch it thud against the plush cushions. I put my hands over my face and press my elbows into the desk. I blow out a breath.
"Get it together, Bruce."
When the car pulls up outside the gym at dusk, I lean forward to ask Liam if we're at the right address.
The building's paint is peeling, the sliding doors are chipped and gouged, the back right corner of the sloped roof is holey.
Liam assures me we are at the correct place and urges me out into the street. The door slides across and Clark leans against it, looking very human in baggy shorts and a tattered football jersey.
"Come in," he mutters.
I stroll past him and into the dingy space.
A boxing ring sits under floodlights. Bags line the back wall. Mats are piled high in one corner.
"To the ring?"
Clark nods.
I step between the ropes. My sneakers squeak on the canvas. I feel the bounce in the material, take a lap, and smile over at Clark.
He plants his feet in front of me and stretches his arms up, locking his elbows.
I skim my eyes over his biceps and up to his broad palms.
I bring my hands up in fists and throw a weak one-two in his direction.
Clark chuckles.
"You've never struck me as much of a boxer."
"I did martial arts all through school, thank you very much."
Clark swings a fist round toward my temple. I duck, thighs protesting at the forced squat. I rise and lean forward. My fist connects weakly with his collarbone.
Clark laughs, wraps his palms around my arm and twists me. My feet lift from the floor and Clark drops me unceremoniously to the canvas. I pull my arm close to my body and rub it for a moment before springing back up and rushing him, my head low as though I'm tackling him, pressed tight to his ribs.
He pushes me back, holds me at arm's length with his fingers curled over my shoulders.
I kick at him.
He laughs.
His smile is wide, natural and endearing.
Fuck me.
I decide to play a dirty trick.
"Hey Clark, did someone come in?"
He starts, glances away, loosens his grip on me. I spin out from under his arms and catch him in the middle with a right hook. He glances down at my fist and I retract it quickly, trying to contain my smug smile. I skip back to the corner and then weave around him, ducking blows.
I press my heels down into the floor, adjust my stance and use the boost in the floor to put force behind a sidekick. The sole of my foot meets with Clark's ribs. He stumbles, one of his heels sticking on the canvas. His arms windmill as he falls back.
I bite back a grin and leap over him. With my legs parted around his chest, I wrap a hand around his neck and spread my fingers wide. I keep my grip loose.
"Satisfied with my recovery?"
Clark looks at me, bemused.
"I never doubted it."
I tilt my head and sweep my tongue over my teeth. I feel my heart pounding. Inside my sweats, I feel my cock twitch, start to rise and push against my boxers.
Clark fidgets beneath me. He puts his hands around my wrist.
"Bruce," he mutters. "Let go."
I let out a little laugh, feeling heat flood my face.
"Right, sorry."
I let go, watch him wriggle out from between my thighs and push himself up. He dawdles over to one of the corners and throws his arms back over the ropes. His head hangs forward.
"I let you win."
"No you didn't."
He shakes his head.
"I could tear you apart, Bruce," he says. "I'm still so angry all the time."
"About Lois?"
"It was such a waste, Bruce, to steal her away so young. There's so much we didn't get to do."
I make a noise to sound sympathetic, but it comes out harsher than it was in my head.
"You should go," he says. "I need to beat the shit out of something, and it won't be you."
I nod, put my weight back on my heels and jog out. I find Liam behind the wheel of the car, with his seat reclined and his hair over his face.
He jumps when I open the door and slide into the backseat.
With my thoughts whirling, I manage just one word, "Home."
The car moves off smoothly, almost without a sound.
Behind us, the building shakes, a wall starts to buckle, dust fills the street.
Clark needs help.