Chapter Text
Clark Kent was not known for being calculating, but he knew there would be consequences for sending a text with two exclamation points to Batman when there was no emergency.
Alright, then, B, we’ll miss you at HH! Have a good patrol! Hopefully Gthm doesn’t need you much tonight.
He had had a long day, and he wanted to be a little naughty.
So, that naughtiness led to putting on a bit of a show for his best friend/unrequited crush. Sue him.
Or, no, actually, don’t sue him. Clark really doesn’t have the cash to spend on legal fees.
An hour after his text, Clark could hear Bruce’s heart beat from the roof across from the bar where Diana, Arthur, and Lois had joined him for happy hour. Right on time.
Two hours after he first heard Bruce’s heart beat as he sipped his sarsaparilla, he was home again, changed into an old pair of basketball shorts and a nearly-threadbare Metropolis University shirt, searching for just the right background video for his, mmm, demonstration. Finally, he found just the right one. He wanted to really hammer home the point if Bruce was listening in with the BatParabola tonight.
The right video had the title: Superman Takes Batman’s 10.5-Inch Cock.
Maybe more than a little naughty. Maybe downright sinful.
The Superman actor was hilariously midwestern and nearly a bear. The Batman actor had a voice like if gravel had just smoked three packs of cigarettes.
“I’m going to take you apart one orgasm at a time, Superman…”
No reaction. Maybe no Bat-Ears tonight.
Clark could hear Batman’s heart skip a beat as he pulled his cock from his shorts. The sound was so unusual, he almost looked in the direction of the rooftop where he knew Batman was perched.
He let his eyes close and his breathing soften, his hand working himself slowly up to his full length. After several minutes, he was aware of Bruce’s heart beating faster, ever so slightly…
He spit into his hand, enjoying the new hitch of breath from across the street. If he had known what that would sound like, he would have done this years ago.
His being concentrated down to this scene. His hand on his cock, the wet sounds of skin slapping against skin from the video and the moan of pleasure from deep in porno-Superman’s throat, the beat of his beloved’s heart and the thrum of blood in his veins and the breath in and out of his lungs. It was the shadow on a cave wall of what he wanted to hear from Bruce Wayne.
“Oh, Batman! Your cock is big even for my Kryptonish ass!”
Clark could very nearly laugh aloud at that. Every part of it. It was so fun and silly. The misnomer!
As he smiled, the sound of Bruce’s heart seemed to drown out everything else. The heart of his best friend. The beat of his heart was the speed of Clark’s fist.
He came hard into his hand, going in his mind to a place with only Bruce, only that steel-trap of a mind and hard-muscled body and the compassion that brought them together for the love of his city. He came back to himself slowly, the sounds of the rest of the city filtering back into his mind.
For safety’s sake, he surveyed the city, then the state, then the country. All at rest, or close to it.
And still, Bruce perched on the roof across the street. Clark imagined he could feel Bruce’s gaze on him.
So, Clark did what only Clark could do. He looked through the wall of his apartment, and found exactly where the gargoyle of Batman’s suit still perched. He saw that Batman still watched him through the Batoscope (or whatever he was calling this version).
He knew he looked debauched, cock still out, barely cleaned up from his come, and Clark wanted to know what it was like to be more than naughty, more than sinful, actually be downright filthy.
He winked.
The reaction was everything he had wanted from tonight. He would need to use too many exclamation points again.
