Rescued (SuperBat fic)

10

I pace in front of the elevator, wring my hands, put them in my pockets, take them out again. I hear Alfred come over. He puts a hand to my shoulder and pushes his palm down, to hold me in place.
"Are you alright, sir?"
"Fine, Alfred, just waiting for Clark to arrive."
He nods.
"Could you pop out for a bit, Alfred?"
"Yes sir."
Alfred lets go of me, lifts his coat from the hooks on the wall and leans by the elevator call button. After a long moment, the elevator dings and the doors slide open. Clark stands inside them, wearing sneakers, shorts and a hoodie. As Clark steps out, Alfred steps in. I wait until the doors slide closed before I step close to Clark and take one of his hands.
"You really need to learn to dress for Gotham," I mutter to him.
Clark smiles.
"I wanted to wear something easy to take off."
"We don't have to take our clothes off -"
He cuts in, "To have a good time. I know."
"So you've come to play?"
He bites his lip, looking down at me.
"It's all I've been thinking about since coffee in the park, what you might want to do to me."
"With you."
He nods.
I watch Clark's tongue sweep over his teeth.
"Should we loosen up? Do you have any beer?"
"No beer before BDSM," I tell him, smiling.
He nods.
"If you're nervous, we don't have to have sex. We could just get cosy, watch some movies and drink beer."
I look up into his eyes.
"That would be okay?"
"It would. So what do you want to do?"
"I want to play," he says.
I squeeze Clark's hand as I lead him through to the bedroom. I walk him back to the bed and sit him down on the edge of it. He looks up at me.
"Hoodie off, baby."
He pulls it off by the collar and drops it at my feet. I crouch in front of him and take hold of his shorts.
"And these too."
Clark lifts his ass and pushes his shorts down. I pull them off and throw them aside before I rise to my feet.
"Before we do anything, I need you to pick a safe word."
He frowns at me.
I take his chin in my hands and run one of my thumbs along one of his dimples.
"We won't do anything you're uncomfortable with. Having a safe word doesn't mean we'll do something extreme. But if you need to stop, it'll let me know."
"Gherkin," Clark says quickly.
I stifle a chuckle.
"I really hate them," he says, his cheeks red.
I nod to myself and pat his shoulders.
"Stay here."
I press a kiss to his forehead and then wander to the back of the closet where I keep my supplies. I lift the velvet rope from the box and hold it in both hands as I go back out to Clark. His face is blank as I stand tall in front of him.
I stretch the length of rope out and hold it taut in front of him. The dark blue material shimmers under the light.
Clark's eyes sparkle.
"I want to tie you up, just your wrists."
Clark nods.
"Do you trust me?"
I step closer to him and, still holding the rope taut, offer it to him.
"Feel the rope."
Clark skims one of his hands along the rope. His hand bumps against my right. He gasps and snatches his hand back.
I lower my hands and let the rope slacken.
"It's okay baby," I tell him. "Hold your hands like you're praying."
Clark holds his arms close to his chest, palms flat together, elbows down by his ribs. He closes his eyes. His breaths are already growing short. When I start to wrap the rope around his wrists, I feel him shaking.
I pause.
"Are you alright?"
He nods quickly.
"For this to work, I need you to use your words."
"I'm nervous," he says. "But I want you, this."
I loop the rope around his wrists and tie a quick, simple knot between them. He gasps when I slip two fingers under the ropes and feel for veins in his forearm. I feel his pulse under my fingertips. He lets out a moaning breath. I put my hands to his shoulders and gently push him down onto his back.
Clark shifts on his back and wiggles his fingers.
"Stretch your arms out, baby."
Clark puts his arms back over his head, gropes at the comforter and grabs some of it with his fingertips. He's arched a little, his abdomen stretched flat and exposed. And too pale.
"How does that feel?"
He hums and chews on his bottom lip. His wrists rub together inside the rope.
"Heady," he says eventually.
"Well that's a loaded choice," I reply, smirking.
I put one knee on the bed and feel the mattress dip as I straddle his groin. I put my hands to his stomach, spread them wide and clutch him tightly. I skim my hands up and down his chest, over his shoulders, kneading the tight muscles there. He breathes heavily and sighs. I take one of my hands and slide it down to the thick waistband of the boxers he's wearing.
He's got a semi. I curl my hand around it and squeeze it through the fabric of his boxers. He catches his bottom lip between his teeth.
"That's it, babe. I know you want me."
I squeeze him harder, skim my hand down to his balls. I turn my wrist and cup them in my palm. I press the heel of my hand over his balls, feel the fabric of his boxers shift under my fingers. He moans deliberately and shifts. I look up to his face, see him gripping the comforter, his elbows raised, his arms shaking.
I rub my palm over his balls until I have him biting back groans, until his hard-on tents his boxers.
And then I let go of him.
He shakes beneath me as I hold onto his sides, squeezing him as I lean forward and trap one of his nipples between my teeth.
He bites back a noise, a high one.
"Do you like that?"
"Yes," he breathes.
I flick my tongue against his nipple, pull it into the heat of my mouth. When he groans, my cock flexes inside my clothes. I reach down and close a hand around it. I watch Clark crane his neck, his eyes low on the shape of my hand and cock inside my sweats. He drops his head back.
"You want to cum, don't you?"
Clark nods.
"Where do you want it?"
Clark shifts, brings his arms forward and skims his fingers along his stomach.
"Oh you want me to make a mess of you," I say quietly. "Well, baby, that's easily arranged."
I put my hands to his wrists and guide them back over his head. I am stretched over him. I lower my forehead to his and gift him a kiss, my mouth stretched wide against his. I let my tongue meet his for a moment before I pull away. He lifts his head, wets his lips. He wants more.
I lower my head again and take his earlobe between my teeth. I press a line of rough kisses down his neck and around his nipple. He buckles away from the duvet, towards me.
I shuffle back, over his thighs, and tug down his boxers. His cock springs free, curls back towards his stomach. He's deep pink, his foreskin tight, his head wet with precum. I take him in my hand. I feel him throb inside my fingers and smirk when he lifts his hips and pushes himself through my palm.
"Not yet," I tell him.
And I let go of him, push off the bed and wander back into the closet. I return with a bottle of lube. Clark lifts his head and looks at me as I squirt some of the lube onto my hand and spread it between my fingers. I close a hand around him.
He shivers.
With the lube on my hand, I can stroke him faster, not quite so tight as he likes. A quiet squelch and slap fills the room as I jack him off. He moans. I skim a thumb over his head, take the drops of precum from it and suck them off my fingers. His legs buck up against my body. I push my weight down and hold him in place. His chest is growing red and damp with sweat. His hands are fisting the comforter. His breath is ragged.
I pump and pump until his cock flexes and throbs rapidly. His cum bursts out of him, lands thick and hot across his chest and the sheets.
I stretch forward again and lick his cum off his chest. I let out a careful moan and squeeze my cock for a moment. I drop my head forward and rest it on his chest.
"That's my boy," I mutter. "I love it when you give me your cum."
Clark fidgets, pushes his shoulders back, gasps out, "More."
"Oh yeah?"
He nods.
I take my slick hands and cup his softening cock, move my hand around it and take his balls back into my palm. They're hot and heavy and tight. I skim my hand lower and my wet fingers glide across his perineum down to the puckered, velvet rim of his ass. He shifts, spreads his legs as far apart as he can between my thighs.
"I want to claim your ass, Clark," I tell him. "I'm aching just thinking about it."
And I mean that. I feel myself growing slick. The rub of my clothes is making me gasp, firing up the urge to grind, the urge to drive my cock into him.
"Has anyone fucked your ass before, Clark?"
"No," his voice raw.
I skim my fingers around his ass. It puckers gently and yawns open. I trail my fingertips around it until his hips lift again, until he twists onto one side as though to turn over and press his hips down into the mattress. But just as I press a fingertip into his ass, as the pad of my fingertip slides over the velvet tissue, he bites out "Gherk -" then breaks off.
I rush forward and release the knots. Clark sits up, pulls his hands in to his chest, rubs the faint rope marks on one of his wrists. I cup his chin in my hands.
"Are you alright?"
Clark blushes and chuckles.
"I just haven't made myself ready."
I feel my brow creasing and then I realise what he means.
"You haven't douched?"
He shakes his head, his jaw tight.
I lean in and press a kiss to his forehead.
"You don't always need to. I won't insist."
He nods and wraps his arms around me, crushes me to his chest.
"Did you enjoy that?"
"Fuck yes," he says. "And next time, sir, please claim me, fuck me."
"Your wish is my command babe. Now, what do you need?"
Clark shifts, thinks with his eyes low.
"A shower and a nap."
I shift back and take his hands in mine. I lead him into the shower and we stand close together under the spray, stealing sweet chaste kisses as we soap each-other up. I tell Clark to face the wall and push the suds between his cheeks and down the back of his legs. When he turns back to me, I wrap my arms around his neck and look up into his face.
"You're beautiful."
He smiles, cups the back of my head with a hand and holds me in place as he kisses me.
He steps out of the shower first and throws a towel to me. We wrap ourselves in them, roll the towels at our waists and climb onto the bed. Clark gives the clothes thrown on the floor one glance, then throws himself down on his back and closes his eyes. I lie beside him, with one of his arms over my shoulders, and listen to his heartbeat as he rests.
I wake up to Clark gently poking my chest. I catch his hand and hold it flat to my body. His fingers push through the thin patch of hair between my collarbones.
"Hey, Bruce," he mutters. "Are you ever going to come with me again?"
I glance across at him.
"Yeah."
He blushes.
"I just thought all this stuff was about getting off on domination."
"And it is, I do."
I pause.
"You saw how hard I was, how much I wanted you. I needed to come, yeah, but what you need comes first."
He nods.
"Do you still need to come?" He asks in a whisper.
"You're a needy one," I quip.
He blushes, skimming his hand down my chest. I catch it just above my navel and look across into his eyes.
"Let me help you..." he pauses for effect, "Sir."
I feel myself throb under the towel.
I drop my head back against the sheets and push Clark's hand lower, against the rolled hem of my towel. He pushes the towel apart, shuffles closer to me, and wraps his large, warm hand around my cock. I push my hips up and feel my cock slide through his palm.
He fucks me in slow, long, easy strokes. And I groan for him and reach for him and pull his lips down to mine. I flex inside his palm, feel beads of precum burst out of me. He uses the beads to make me slick, to make me needy, to make me come.
I lift my head to watch my cum land in spurts across my chest.
Clark meets my eyes.
"Was I good, sir?"
"Fuck yes."
I wonder for a moment, then decide to say it.
"Lick me clean."
He smirks, then lowers his head and does as he's asked. When I am clean and calm once more, I pull him up and wrap my arms around him.
He sneaks a kiss to my cheek.
"Good boy."