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DPJupiter Part 5
I have to clean up my entries in memories, so just know that this is part 5 of our little story. Sorry to wait so long before up-dating but hopefully the next part will come along a little quicker. I figured I'd post this now, before ya'll forget it's here! *grin*
Sweat soaked his hair, and damp tendrils brushed against the floor, leaving wet trails—his hands were curled into claws, fingers digging into his palms as they squeaked across the oak floor. Back and forth, back and forth, the rug under his knees rutching into pleats and he groaned, “Harder, harder.” He gasped and hissed as fingers like steel dug into his hips and punished the tender flesh, ground it against the bone. One big hand wrapped around the stiff leather of the dog collar buckled on his neck, yanked him back onto the dick that spread him.
“Hurts,” he groaned. Hurt in just the right way, chasing pleasure through him, igniting fires along his nerves, the pleasure, the pain—he wasn’t sure what was what anymore. Sweat flew as he shook his head and growled. “More, make it hurt--”
“Shhh, I’m going to--”
A harder yank on the dog collar and the thick edge dug deep into his throat, he was gagging and trying to beg, “Harder, please—let me, let me--”
“Do it.”
His hand flew to his dick, he screamed low and harsh through clenched teeth.
“Fuck me, fuck me…” The hand skipped from the collar to nape of his neck, his head was pressed roughly against the floor and his hips were being pounded and everything tightened and pulled towards his center—a slim chain clasped under the collar swung wildly and clicked again and again against the floor as he rocked and spurt over the rug. He shuddered and groaned with the ecstasy of release, his quivering muscles clamped down around the swelling, twitching dick inside him, felt it pouring heat in him as it jerked…”Bruce, Bruce….”
******
They lay entangled on the floor, exhausted and wet and reluctant to part. Clark sprawled face down on the floor, feeling Bruce twitch and soften, and finally withdraw. He stayed curled over Clark’s back, running his hands over Clark’s damp, hot skin. He reached for the clasp of the chain and Clark stopped him.
“Leave it.” The tiny chip of crystal glowed emerald green against Clark’s skin. He rolled to his back unseating Bruce, and stretched out. “I want to feel it.” he traced the bruises blooming on his hips, and thighs, fingered the vicious bites laced around his neck and down his chest.
Bruce cocked an eyebrow at him and rolled to his feet in one smooth move.
He padded over to the bar in one corner of the room, and poured himself a drink. “Okay. Care to share going on?”
“Nothing’s going on.”
Bruce snorted. “And I should believe that because--” He examined Clark, laying spread on the floor, the rug shoved under his head, his chest heaving as he tried to calm his breathing. “Tell me.”
Clark lifted hs head to look at him and Bruce’s expressive mouth quirked into that smile, the one that even when he was in love with Lex—Lucas…Lex—could make him shiver. The lines bracketing the mouth were a little deeper now, the eyes a little narrower, less unguarded, but bluer somehow…Clark sighed and rolled to his feet also. The chain slipped and hit him in the chest, each time it made contact with his skin, it sparked and stung. Clark sighed and took Bruce’s drink from his unresisting hand and finished it.
“Well?” Bruce asked, and Clark looked away.
“I saw Lex tonight. Lucas and Lex, and I spoke to him—Lucas.”
Bruce shrugged. “You’ve had dozens of occasions requiring you to speak to him—what made this time different?” He walked over to the couch and took a towel off the back of it, wiped his neck and shoulders. Clark watched him, eyes drawn to the scars on Bruce’s body. White lines ran from shoulder to shoulder, skipped over his ribs, laced his thighs. Some were carved deep into him; some were pits in his skin, some were thin delicate strokes. Billionaire playboy adventurer Bruce Wayne was extremely active and a little careless…at least that was his story.
He pulled his eyes away and chewed on the edge of his thumb. “I don’t know.” Clark hesitated a moment before going on. “I saw something…a few nights ago.”
Bruce glanced at him, a frown on his face. “What?” He tossed Clark a robe also draped across the back of the couch.
Clark walked around the room as he belted the robe, looking at the odd pieces Bruce had scattered thickly around the small study, an eclectic mix of different cultures, a jumble of valuable antiques and kitsch.
The items may have been different but the feeling was familiar, he felt the same as he had when he was a boy and wandering around Lex’s study, trying not to touch the things that belonged to Lex—wanting to so badly…he took a breath and started again.
“I saw Lex, on the apartment balcony. He looked…bad.”
Bruce shrugged. “He looks bad. Drugs alcohol, that life…it affects you.” He looked at Clark. “I’m surprised you noticed. I’m surprised his brother doesn’t seem to.”
Clark stared at Bruce, not really in the moment with him, even as he nodded, his mind was turning the incident over and over in his mind. “He was—he threw himself off the balcony, I think.”
“Tripped or jumped?” Bruce twisted the towel around his waist and a cynical smile made his eyes seem bluer.
“You don’t trip off a chest high wall, Bruce,” Clark glowered and surprised himself by defending Lex even that much.
Bruce turned to the wall on which a television hung and turned it on. News flashed over it, rapidly changing images and sound, the crawl at the bottom of the screen spoke of disasters and war and human misery over and over as quickly as the eye could read and he spoke quietly.
“Civil war, death, starvation…one government falls and another is put in it’s place and in some way it benefits LuthorCorp, crops fail and new seed is provided generously and LuthorCorp holds patents to the miracle seed…in this city alone we’re drowning in illegal drugs, guns, corrupt government, dirty cops, and some how, some where, it all leads back to them, Clark. Why do you care?”
Clark started to defend his actions before he realized he meant Lex. Why did he care? Because… “I don’t—it’s just…I think he’s.” Clark stopped.
“He’s the same person he let himself become. Come here, let me take that off, it makes me uncomfortable.” He motioned for Clark to step forward and Clark let Bruce take off the chain and it’s kryptonite pendant and seal it in a lead box on the end table. The release was instantaneous, the minor injuries to his skin healed immediately and Clark was sorry they were gone—he wouldn’t look in the mirror in the morning and see the bites, feel the bruises on his hips, it’d be as if this never happened. The faint echo of sex was gone. He looked at Bruce, whose body was a map of everything he’d gone through, and felt a little envy. It was something he could never explain to Bruce, to anyone. Sometimes he hated the fact that he was nearly invulnerable. No trace, no reminders, nothing would ever show on his skin.
“Don’t worry about Lex. He’s where he wants to be, you know that. And Lucas—let’s just concentrate on making sure we protect our cities against them."
Clark shook his head.” There was something in his face…” he muttered.
“I used to think there might be some greater reason for Lex’s change. But—it was clear he liked his life just fine.” Bruce leaned against the door to the study. “He sent me a film and told me there’d be no need to contact him again.”
“A film?”
But Clark was already cringing inside when Bruce nodded and said, ”A film of himself with his brother. It was…tasteless. But the message was clear.” His head was slightly down turned so the only part of his face lit was his mouth, the corners were turned down, the lines around his mouth were deeper. I’ve got to go—Dick is waiting for me.”
Clark nodded. “I’ve got an interview later… and then, maybe I’ll go home for a few hours. It’s been a while since I’ve seen my folks. His cheeks reddened. “A long while.”
“It’s time then, go home, visit with your parents. Maybe take longer than a few hours, Clark. Take the opportunity to think.”
Clark nodded. “Maybe, Bruce---thank you.” He didn’t look up; he knew Bruce was already gone. “Thanks for everything you do for me.”
*******
tbc
Sweat soaked his hair, and damp tendrils brushed against the floor, leaving wet trails—his hands were curled into claws, fingers digging into his palms as they squeaked across the oak floor. Back and forth, back and forth, the rug under his knees rutching into pleats and he groaned, “Harder, harder.” He gasped and hissed as fingers like steel dug into his hips and punished the tender flesh, ground it against the bone. One big hand wrapped around the stiff leather of the dog collar buckled on his neck, yanked him back onto the dick that spread him.
“Hurts,” he groaned. Hurt in just the right way, chasing pleasure through him, igniting fires along his nerves, the pleasure, the pain—he wasn’t sure what was what anymore. Sweat flew as he shook his head and growled. “More, make it hurt--”
“Shhh, I’m going to--”
A harder yank on the dog collar and the thick edge dug deep into his throat, he was gagging and trying to beg, “Harder, please—let me, let me--”
“Do it.”
His hand flew to his dick, he screamed low and harsh through clenched teeth.
“Fuck me, fuck me…” The hand skipped from the collar to nape of his neck, his head was pressed roughly against the floor and his hips were being pounded and everything tightened and pulled towards his center—a slim chain clasped under the collar swung wildly and clicked again and again against the floor as he rocked and spurt over the rug. He shuddered and groaned with the ecstasy of release, his quivering muscles clamped down around the swelling, twitching dick inside him, felt it pouring heat in him as it jerked…”Bruce, Bruce….”
******
They lay entangled on the floor, exhausted and wet and reluctant to part. Clark sprawled face down on the floor, feeling Bruce twitch and soften, and finally withdraw. He stayed curled over Clark’s back, running his hands over Clark’s damp, hot skin. He reached for the clasp of the chain and Clark stopped him.
“Leave it.” The tiny chip of crystal glowed emerald green against Clark’s skin. He rolled to his back unseating Bruce, and stretched out. “I want to feel it.” he traced the bruises blooming on his hips, and thighs, fingered the vicious bites laced around his neck and down his chest.
Bruce cocked an eyebrow at him and rolled to his feet in one smooth move.
He padded over to the bar in one corner of the room, and poured himself a drink. “Okay. Care to share going on?”
“Nothing’s going on.”
Bruce snorted. “And I should believe that because--” He examined Clark, laying spread on the floor, the rug shoved under his head, his chest heaving as he tried to calm his breathing. “Tell me.”
Clark lifted hs head to look at him and Bruce’s expressive mouth quirked into that smile, the one that even when he was in love with Lex—Lucas…Lex—could make him shiver. The lines bracketing the mouth were a little deeper now, the eyes a little narrower, less unguarded, but bluer somehow…Clark sighed and rolled to his feet also. The chain slipped and hit him in the chest, each time it made contact with his skin, it sparked and stung. Clark sighed and took Bruce’s drink from his unresisting hand and finished it.
“Well?” Bruce asked, and Clark looked away.
“I saw Lex tonight. Lucas and Lex, and I spoke to him—Lucas.”
Bruce shrugged. “You’ve had dozens of occasions requiring you to speak to him—what made this time different?” He walked over to the couch and took a towel off the back of it, wiped his neck and shoulders. Clark watched him, eyes drawn to the scars on Bruce’s body. White lines ran from shoulder to shoulder, skipped over his ribs, laced his thighs. Some were carved deep into him; some were pits in his skin, some were thin delicate strokes. Billionaire playboy adventurer Bruce Wayne was extremely active and a little careless…at least that was his story.
He pulled his eyes away and chewed on the edge of his thumb. “I don’t know.” Clark hesitated a moment before going on. “I saw something…a few nights ago.”
Bruce glanced at him, a frown on his face. “What?” He tossed Clark a robe also draped across the back of the couch.
Clark walked around the room as he belted the robe, looking at the odd pieces Bruce had scattered thickly around the small study, an eclectic mix of different cultures, a jumble of valuable antiques and kitsch.
The items may have been different but the feeling was familiar, he felt the same as he had when he was a boy and wandering around Lex’s study, trying not to touch the things that belonged to Lex—wanting to so badly…he took a breath and started again.
“I saw Lex, on the apartment balcony. He looked…bad.”
Bruce shrugged. “He looks bad. Drugs alcohol, that life…it affects you.” He looked at Clark. “I’m surprised you noticed. I’m surprised his brother doesn’t seem to.”
Clark stared at Bruce, not really in the moment with him, even as he nodded, his mind was turning the incident over and over in his mind. “He was—he threw himself off the balcony, I think.”
“Tripped or jumped?” Bruce twisted the towel around his waist and a cynical smile made his eyes seem bluer.
“You don’t trip off a chest high wall, Bruce,” Clark glowered and surprised himself by defending Lex even that much.
Bruce turned to the wall on which a television hung and turned it on. News flashed over it, rapidly changing images and sound, the crawl at the bottom of the screen spoke of disasters and war and human misery over and over as quickly as the eye could read and he spoke quietly.
“Civil war, death, starvation…one government falls and another is put in it’s place and in some way it benefits LuthorCorp, crops fail and new seed is provided generously and LuthorCorp holds patents to the miracle seed…in this city alone we’re drowning in illegal drugs, guns, corrupt government, dirty cops, and some how, some where, it all leads back to them, Clark. Why do you care?”
Clark started to defend his actions before he realized he meant Lex. Why did he care? Because… “I don’t—it’s just…I think he’s.” Clark stopped.
“He’s the same person he let himself become. Come here, let me take that off, it makes me uncomfortable.” He motioned for Clark to step forward and Clark let Bruce take off the chain and it’s kryptonite pendant and seal it in a lead box on the end table. The release was instantaneous, the minor injuries to his skin healed immediately and Clark was sorry they were gone—he wouldn’t look in the mirror in the morning and see the bites, feel the bruises on his hips, it’d be as if this never happened. The faint echo of sex was gone. He looked at Bruce, whose body was a map of everything he’d gone through, and felt a little envy. It was something he could never explain to Bruce, to anyone. Sometimes he hated the fact that he was nearly invulnerable. No trace, no reminders, nothing would ever show on his skin.
“Don’t worry about Lex. He’s where he wants to be, you know that. And Lucas—let’s just concentrate on making sure we protect our cities against them."
Clark shook his head.” There was something in his face…” he muttered.
“I used to think there might be some greater reason for Lex’s change. But—it was clear he liked his life just fine.” Bruce leaned against the door to the study. “He sent me a film and told me there’d be no need to contact him again.”
“A film?”
But Clark was already cringing inside when Bruce nodded and said, ”A film of himself with his brother. It was…tasteless. But the message was clear.” His head was slightly down turned so the only part of his face lit was his mouth, the corners were turned down, the lines around his mouth were deeper. I’ve got to go—Dick is waiting for me.”
Clark nodded. “I’ve got an interview later… and then, maybe I’ll go home for a few hours. It’s been a while since I’ve seen my folks. His cheeks reddened. “A long while.”
“It’s time then, go home, visit with your parents. Maybe take longer than a few hours, Clark. Take the opportunity to think.”
Clark nodded. “Maybe, Bruce---thank you.” He didn’t look up; he knew Bruce was already gone. “Thanks for everything you do for me.”
*******
tbc
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I can't.
*sniffles*
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*enjoys the hugs while nobody's saying "oh, suck it up!"*
lol!
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More soon?
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more soon? god, I hope so!
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And wow - people are so freakin' gullible! Go with your gut, Clark! Sheesh.
*hugs him*
Feels invisible - that's neat, Ms. Thang, i like that. Neat but so sad.
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*There's* a loaded statement. O_o
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Great part!
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and dick waits for no man!
sorry -- it just never. gets. old. (and neither do we!)
i love clark's growing doubts, and bruce's sternness.
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I love that Bruce is the only person Clark can trust enough to let go like that, and I think that's true canonically as well.
Poor boys!
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I liked that your Bruce makes Clark think.
I also agree with you and think that Clark would want marks on his body, something, some reminder that's not just memory. Heh. Kryptonite Tattoo?
I can just see:
C.K.
+
B.W.
TFF
lol :)
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i'm disappointed in bruce for so easily believing that lex wanted this life. but at least he frowned about it, like it bothered him.
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