Bruce has rules, discipline. He doesn't touch, not Clark, not himself, not ever. He gets a high off Clark climbing in his bed cum soaked and used, babbling filth and touching himself, because Clark is ethereally beautiful debauched and ruined and the temptation of him is too exquisite to refuse. Strength of will is nothing if it isn't tested, and it's heady to know his will can pass a test like Clark. He used to watch Clark's assignations. He doesn't now, because he knows without the effort of walking out the door that he can sit in the car for an hour with his dick stiff in his shorts, throbbing so hard it aches down to his fingertips, and not touch, even with no one else there to see, when know one else would ever know, and that's all he needed from the exercise.
He was just this edge of sure of himself with Clark right up until he found Clark's research. Bruce felt something twist up inside him when he saw Lex's name in the search engine, felt actual honest to god shame watching Clark jerk off to pictures of Lex in front of the computer and the heat of the shame was the thing that stopped him from wrapping his hand around his dick and jerking it raw, not discipline. He feels like he's losing his mind a little, and if Clark had come into his room and offered Bruce his hand or his mouth or his ass, Lex's name and face rolling around in Clark's head, Bruce thinks he wouldn't have been able to say no.
He's a complete fucking mess whenever Lex is in town even without Clark poking around. Bruce doesn't drink or fuck his way through Gotham, but Lex had been in town the night Bruce picked up Clark and Bruce had had a reckless moment where he'd thought about it. It's his mind that's cracked, wild around the edges, not his heart and perhaps sometimes his knuckles are cracked as well. Violence is very soothing when Lex comes to town, he finds, and there is no shortage of villains for Bruce to extract his calm from these days.
When he sees Lex drugged and passed out in the car he's stricken, out of his mind with the desire to do something foolish like rescue Lex. All he can think about is how vulnerable Lex is, has a nearly undeniable craving to swoop in and scoop Lex up in his arms and nurse him back to health like some appalling gothic romance novel. He's paralyzed with it right up until he sees Clark.
Bruce breaks every piece of equipment on his dashboard console, rips his gloves and leaves shards of shatter-proof plexiglass sticking out from his knuckles while he rubs himself off with a bloody fist watching them. Litterally seconds after he cups his cock he makes a mess of his suit. He's hard again just trying to peel the rubber away from his skin. Blood and cum mix all together while he moans himself hoarse, wantonly, frantically jerking off all fucking night while he watches them.
He's never wanted Clark more, never hated him before, but now that he does, the desire to have Clark on his knees, pretty red lips wrapped around his cock is almost as unbearable as the desire to hit Clark's pretty face while he does it. He's not sure he could stop himself from either impulse, but no matter, the impulse to run far, far away from Lex trumps it all.
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1/20/09 06:42 pm (UTC)No, wait. I lie.
Bruce has rules, discipline. He doesn't touch, not Clark, not himself, not ever. He gets a high off Clark climbing in his bed cum soaked and used, babbling filth and touching himself, because Clark is ethereally beautiful debauched and ruined and the temptation of him is too exquisite to refuse. Strength of will is nothing if it isn't tested, and it's heady to know his will can pass a test like Clark. He used to watch Clark's assignations. He doesn't now, because he knows without the effort of walking out the door that he can sit in the car for an hour with his dick stiff in his shorts, throbbing so hard it aches down to his fingertips, and not touch, even with no one else there to see, when know one else would ever know, and that's all he needed from the exercise.
He was just this edge of sure of himself with Clark right up until he found Clark's research. Bruce felt something twist up inside him when he saw Lex's name in the search engine, felt actual honest to god shame watching Clark jerk off to pictures of Lex in front of the computer and the heat of the shame was the thing that stopped him from wrapping his hand around his dick and jerking it raw, not discipline. He feels like he's losing his mind a little, and if Clark had come into his room and offered Bruce his hand or his mouth or his ass, Lex's name and face rolling around in Clark's head, Bruce thinks he wouldn't have been able to say no.
He's a complete fucking mess whenever Lex is in town even without Clark poking around. Bruce doesn't drink or fuck his way through Gotham, but Lex had been in town the night Bruce picked up Clark and Bruce had had a reckless moment where he'd thought about it. It's his mind that's cracked, wild around the edges, not his heart and perhaps sometimes his knuckles are cracked as well. Violence is very soothing when Lex comes to town, he finds, and there is no shortage of villains for Bruce to extract his calm from these days.
When he sees Lex drugged and passed out in the car he's stricken, out of his mind with the desire to do something foolish like rescue Lex. All he can think about is how vulnerable Lex is, has a nearly undeniable craving to swoop in and scoop Lex up in his arms and nurse him back to health like some appalling gothic romance novel. He's paralyzed with it right up until he sees Clark.
Bruce breaks every piece of equipment on his dashboard console, rips his gloves and leaves shards of shatter-proof plexiglass sticking out from his knuckles while he rubs himself off with a bloody fist watching them. Litterally seconds after he cups his cock he makes a mess of his suit. He's hard again just trying to peel the rubber away from his skin. Blood and cum mix all together while he moans himself hoarse, wantonly, frantically jerking off all fucking night while he watches them.
He's never wanted Clark more, never hated him before, but now that he does, the desire to have Clark on his knees, pretty red lips wrapped around his cock is almost as unbearable as the desire to hit Clark's pretty face while he does it. He's not sure he could stop himself from either impulse, but no matter, the impulse to run far, far away from Lex trumps it all.