Archive of Our Own ^beta

The rain slammed down on the windows, the concrete ceiling. It rumbled and hissed and painted the whole small terrace in the downpour. So much for being on the top floor, ‘away from all the noise’. He was just happy the power hadn't gone out.. yet.

The popcorn was popping in the microwave gently, shaking the bag as it spun. The kernels jumped around noisily, releasing a rich buttery aroma through the kitchen. Almost all the lights were shut off, so the dim light of the microwave was really all that illuminated his figure. It was blanch and sterile, like a hospital. It painted his mind in a blank white and told him to snap out of it, though how was that possible when his skin was being meticulously searched like a map? 

Bruce was partially leaned against the counter, watching the microwave gradually revolve, humming. He felt like someone was watching him.

He started to lightly thrum his fingers on the granite trying to get his body awake and focusing. He felt the eyes on him. Bruce couldn't allow himself to have more distraction and look back. He just needed to grab the popcorn, and go back to where Clark was laying on the couch. Then, he’d feel fine.

God, this was stupid. Only two horror movies in and he was already getting paranoid. 

“Want popcorn?” Clark asked, that tender blue in his eyes never leaving. 

“Sure,” Bruce shrugged, though very slightly. His calves were on Clark’s thighs, and he lounged back on the plush maroon of the silky, yet cheap, couch. He’d been begging Clark to let him buy a new one for his apartment, but Clark always refused, yet kindly. One of Clark’s arms was wrapped around his shoulder, and he could feel his strong bicep on his upper back.

“You gonna get scared if I go?” Clark teased, grinning.

“You’re egotistical,” Bruce swatted at him, rolling his eyes. “I’ll go. I don't get scared, especially not from a scary movie.”

“Ha,” Clark simpered as Bruce got up, like he had just played him. “Knew I could get you to do it for me.”

Bruce playfully frowned down in judgment at him, before turning and walking towards the kitchen. The floor was smooth and cool beneath his bare feet, a polished wood that held a subtle chill from the fan whirring above. It felt grounding, a steady contrast to the warmth of the room, each step whispering a soft creak, like the house itself was part of their quiet ritual. The wood, worn in places yet buffed to a gentle sheen, had a comforting familiarity underfoot.

“Just make sure to check behind your back…you never know what could sneak up on you.”

“Very funny. You wish something could sneak up on me. Never, not in a million years.”

He rounded the corner and heard Clark laugh on the couch.

He wouldn’t give Clark that victory, even if he couldn’t see him. He didn’t turn around, though his skin crawled like his flesh wiggled under someone’s eyes. The whole thing felt tense.The popcorn gave its last final fleeting pops.

As soon as the microwave beeped, the door opened automatically, he felt presence at his back. Tall, and in his peripheral vision. Then a grip at his upper thigh, and he jumped ever so slightly.

“Clark— really? What is with you!” He said, his fear shifting into annoyance. Though there was a little relief. He sighed outwardly. 

“You didn’t listen, that’s what you get.”  

‘Make sure to check behind your back…’

“ You bastard.” Bruce hissed at him, “That’s not even fair. You don’t walk.”

“So you’re saying you could’ve caught me if i walked?” Clark laughed, joy from his scare still in his voice. “That sounds like a cop out. What about that freak in the movie, he didn’t walk. I’m just letting you live out the full experience.”

“Wow, thanks. Very immersive.” He reached into the microwave, Clark's hand still resting gently on his ass… 

He grabbed the popcorn bag by the waxy portion sealing it together, and it sizzled on his fingers. That scare must’ve rattled him up more than he thought, to make such a stupid decision. He winced.

“Doll, you’re gonna burn your fingers—“ Clark said in a small amount of urgency. He pushed his hand away, and grabbed the smoking bag carefully as if it could burn him. His hand grabbed the full width, wrapping firmly. His touch was both cautious and deliberate, the veins in his hand subtly pronounced. Bruce swallowed thickly.

“My savior.” Bruce glared, trying to not let those words melt him just like the wax on his fingerprints. “Remember when I said I’d get the popcorn?” 

Another loud pop burst from the bag, causing Bruce to jump back slightly, rolling onto the balls of his feet to steady himself. He flushed, hating that he’d been so easy to startle, knowing exactly what Clark was going to say about it.

“Holy shit, you’re really rattled up—” Clark chortled, unable to hold back his amusement. “Didn’t know Batman got scared of popcorn…”

Bruce delivered a quick, not-too-gentle slap with the back of his hand against Clark’s shoulder. It made a satisfying thump against the solid muscle, but Clark only chuckled at his show of annoyance.

“Can we just go back?” Bruce’s tone held a bit of exasperation. Bruce was getting drained from all of this. The scaring, the standing, the burning. That was all stuff he did normally, well, on his abnormal job. “I’m interested to see what movie you've even picked.”

“Perfect, never thought you’d say that,” He squeezed firmly again before his hand left. The spot tingled where his warmth had left, leaving a ghost of his imprints… “If that one scared you, this ones going to leave you terrified. ” 

“First, this one didn't even scare me. You only startled me. And second,” He said pointedly at Clarks overly amused grin. “I don't get scared of movies , Clark.’

“Right. Just try not to crawl all over me when you get scared.”

“If I'm crawling all over you it's definitely not because I'm scared.” Bruce laughed slyly. 

Clark tilted his head, giving Bruce a slow, appraising look. “So, just to be clear,” he said, his tone light but his eyes focused, “if you do get a little scared, crawling all over me is on the table?”

Bruce rolled his eyes, though he couldn’t hide the faint smirk tugging at his lips. “It’s definitely not off the table,” he replied, voice dripping with challenge and something else.. . “But let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

Clark chuckled, his gaze lingering a beat longer than necessary. “Maybe I’ll make sure we pick the scariest part first, just to test that theory.”

“You’re gross,” Bruce shook his head in defeat, blushing and looking entirely too guilty.

Rapataptap

Someone's knocking on the door, and it sounds like a small fist.

“I’ve got this one,” Bruce said, starting towards the door. Clark makes it a point to slap his ass hard as he’s walking away. It stings under his skin as that double-pain starts to set in, and Bruce laughs in amusement back at him. 

He looks through the peephole of Clarks flimsy fake wood door. You can never be too safe.

He opens the door, feeling the metal handle fit nicely beneath his palm. He grabs a fistfull of candy by the door and the plastic sticks between his knuckles. 

The kid at the door looks about nine, right around Dick’s age. Looks like someone he’d hang out with, too. 

He had messy brown hair that looked fairly thin, and a baseball jersey with the number four printed in yellow across its face. His face is round with two thick lines of black under his eyes, simulating the grease the players put on before every game. It's a Gotham Knights’ jersey. Kid must be pretty proud to wear it around Metropolis. 

“Trick or Treat!” His voice isn't timid in the slightest, must definitely be a Gotham kid. His two front teeth are missing and he looks way too happy to see an un-costumed mediocre guy with unflattering hair and fistfull of cheap candy. 

“Nice costume kid,” Bruce says, giving him a fistbump, and it really surprises him about how small the little hand is. “That’s my team, don't see it much out here.”

“What’s your costume?” The kid asks innocently as Bruce places the candy in the plastic jack-o-lantern. There’s barely any in there, which he notices because of the hollow thunks of the candy on the walls of the container.

“Bruce Wayne.”

“Isn’t that the guy on the news who's always causing drama?”

“You bet. He’s a real airhead.” He knows Clark is holding in a laugh back there. Bruce pauses for a moment, considering the barley full candy bucket. Must be sad living in an apartment with a bunch of old people as a kid, can’t really participate like the rest. “Wait here real quick–”

He pivots and grabs the whole, barely touched, bowl. Clark looks over at him from the couch, smiling in understandment. He glares at him. He knows what Clark is thinking, and he really doesn't want to hear it when he comes back. ‘That was so sweet Bruce, I didn't know you had it in you..’

“Here,” He drops quite a bit of it in his basket, making it almost full. The kid toothily, or un toothily smiles up at him in glee. “Share some with your mother and father.” They must be pretty scared having their kid out in the apartment by himself… Makes him feel a bit of dread that they even have to be scared.

“Thank you! Thank you!” The kid hops up and down, his cleats clack against the flour noisily. He winces for the downstairs neighbors as the kid bounds down the hallway, a few pieces of candy being left strewn on the hallway floor. Bruce laughs through his nose and shakes his head, a smile painted on his lips.

………………………………………………..

Bruce had his head leaned against Clarks shoulder, the warm plush of it almost making him fall asleep, along with the lull of the torrential rain pounding the glass outside…

Bang!

His eyes shot open, looking around for a potential intruder. His eyes squinted in pain as he looked at the bright screen, Jack Nicholson's face staring right back at him through that split door. 

Bruce softly groaned in annoyance at the loss of his so close sleep. He didn't think he’d be able to drowse like that again, because of course his sleeping position had just started to hurt him.  Clark didn't seem to take notice of the weak sad noise that he had just made, staring at the scene in front of him.

He watched a bunch of horror movies growing up, as it turns out. Martha didn’t play around, apparently. That made Bruce guffaw the first time he had heard Clark confide that in him, the thought of ‘apple pie baking’ Mrs. Kent also enjoying watching slashers frequently was so strangely shocking. 

So, Clark really didn't get spooked by this type of stuff. Every now and again the blood and wounds would make him cringe, which made Bruce wonder. He didn't feel that pain, so was it remorse, or the imagination of the pain itself? But how could he imagine it if he had never felt that particular type of pain and numbness? He’d ask him later. 

Right now, he analyzed Clark’s face watch the stand-off in the famous bathroom scene. The screams are vivid and sharp, they seem to echo across their own walls as well. His face is remorseful yet so investigative, like he’s peering into their very minds, getting into the movie himself. Those gorgeous cerulean eyes reflect the movie in his eyes like infinite lenses. His whole figure is lax but still somehow poised, like a tranquil crane. 

Bruce seized his chance, not realizing how much he really wanted to kiss him…

He tilted his chin down to him and kissed him, mouth soft and kind at first. It was chaste and sweet, gentle lips. Bruce was never the patient type.

He started kissing open mouthed, tonguing and biting at his lower lip. It was sloppy and dirty, and Bruce was liking this style much more. Wet muted noises unfurled from their lip’s coupling and he was entirely unapologetic. He could hear the movie's sounds faintly from the speakers.

Clark found that same spot again, and hoisted him on his lap, his hand never leaving his ass. He palmed at it as Bruce continued to practically eat him alive. All of that warmth, the heat under Bruce’s skin from the moment the night had started needed to be spent. His heart pounded against Clarks, and the hair on his arms spiked from the anticipation of it all. 

“Wow, thrillers really get you going?” Clark said in amusement, lips all over his neck. He felt his teeth sink in gently and he stifled a thin whimper.

“ You get me going,” Bruce stretched his words in a lazy way, coaxing Clark slowly. He was still composed. Composed enough to allure him like this, which he didn't particularly hate doing either… The laziness was also definitely from his near drowsiness, probably still evident on his face. He groaned playfully, loud and lewd. 

“You sure you didn’t just want an excuse not to watch the movie? Getting too freaked?”

“No i’m n—”

He put a thumb to his mouth and Bruce glowered down at him from him on his lap.

“I know, I know. You're just so scared that you couldn't help but crawl up here for some help.”

“That’s not even–”

Rapraprap

He jolted like a doberman at the ready, his eyes immediately taken off Clark, straight towards the door. It didn't sound like a little fits fist at the door, it sounded like a grown adult. Who the hell would be knocking at their door at 11 PM? The trick-or-treaters had all been sent home, though few as there were. He shucked himself off Clarks lap, going over to see who was interrupting him. He puffed through his nose and didn't even bother looking through the peephole.

It’s not like the person at the door would know, but that didn’t stop him from wishing ill on them. Everything had to be so inconvenient just when the best part of the night was just about to occur. 

He swung the door open, and crossed his arms. A woman with long brown hair and a turtle neck stood in front of him, a pair of unflattering red glasses on her nose. She didn't seem happy. 

He tried to lean up against the door, showing he wasn’t pissed off beyond imagination. He attempted to look nonchalant, but curled his lip slightly when he spoke.

“What’s up?”

“‘ What’s up?’ I’ll tell you what's up,” She said, anger coursing through her veins to the point that one pulsated through her head. “All that moaning. It’s simply distracting and just—inconsiderate.”

Bruce rubbed his temple with his hand, about to start talking when–

“And don't even try to hide what you were doing, sir. By your state I can clearly tell.”

His shirt was slightly off-set where Clark had tugged it, the bites on his neck visible. They were flushed red and the teeth marks had set in nicely. 

“Lady,” He sighed outwardly, Letting himself lean up against the doorframe. “It’s halloween. If you heard anything ‘lewd’ it was probably the TV. We’re watching the shining right now.” He paused and ceremoniously a wail resounded from Shelly Duval on the screen. 

“I already told you I'm not dumb. Your clothes are practically falling off your body.”

“It's my costume.”

He showed his hands which had trace amounts of blood from the wax that burned them. He glared down at her. 

“And what is your ‘ costume’ exactly?”

“Super-model being tortured by some old lady at 11 p.m.,” he hissed intently slamming the door behind him, the echo reverberating down the hallway. Huffing out a long breath through his nose, he trudged back to the couch. He ran a hand through his hair, feeling the catch of a few tangles before ripping them out impatiently. Great. Now he'd have to keep it down because the next-door neighbor was apparently the Halloween grinch, clutching her pearls at any sound past sundown.

With a dramatic sigh, he flopped down and landed directly in Clark's lap, letting out a disgruntled "harumph" as he settled in. Clark’s laugh bubbled up, warm and bright, making Bruce’s whole body jump slightly from the movement. 

“Ready for take-two?” Clark murmured, letting his hands wander along the curves of Bruce’s hips, his fingers pressing lightly into the dips and hollows. Bruce felt the warmth of Clark's hands sink into his skin. 

He gave a playful eye roll, though his lips twitched in amusement at the lame movie pun.

“Can you tell me if she comes back?”

“Sure thing sweetheart,” Clark’s words were automatic, his eyes and focus on his hands at Bruce's ass and waist. He looked into Bruce’s eyes, soul, realizing what he had said. “Why?”

“‘Cause if it’s her, I’m not answering that damn door again.” Bruce shot a look back toward the door, as if willing it to stay shut.

“Heyy…” Clark murmured with a soft smile, reaching up to brush a stray lock of Bruce’s hair from his face. Bruce huffed and blew the remaining strands from his nose, clearly unimpressed. He squinted at Clark’s attempt to play devil’s advocate, his expression one of mock exasperation.

“She’s only trying to help…” Clark continued, his voice gentle but teasing. “Maybe she’s worried about kids that could hear. You never know.”

“Don’t play stupid,” Bruce scoffed, settling further into Clark’s lap. “We both know she’s been dying to complain; this is probably her magnum opus. There aren’t even any kids on this floor—I’d be shocked if there were even any on the floor below us.”

Clark raised an eyebrow, his smile widening into something more mischievous. “You thinking about disobeying some orders?”

Bruce glanced down, the corners of his mouth twitching as he toyed with the edge of Clark’s shirt. “Trust me, I want to—badly. But I don’t want a noise complaint.” He sighed, his fingers tracing light circles on Clark’s chest as he thought, the weight of the evening pressing down.

The movie played behind them, the light from the tv casting light in sharp flickers over Clark’s face. He looked so put together it made him angry. How could he so effortlessly do this to him, leave him looking desperate and needy while being so collected. 

In newfound passion, Bruce leaped back into his lips, the break in conversation the perfect opportunity. They were just as welcoming as the first time, and he sank in even quicker, and it wasn't even him sneaking in some teeth this time. 

“What do I have to do for you to fuck me and stop looking at me like that…” he murmured into Clark’s mouth, his voice barely more than a breath, thick with need. 

“Like what?” Clark pressed his bulge hard on his abdomen, and Bruce started to unconsciously unbutton Clarks shirt. It was just a habit now. “Use your words.”

“Like you want to tear me apart,” Bruce answered, his words somewhere between a hiss and a purr, his pulse quickening as Clark’s eyes darkened. He wasn’t giving up that easily. He wanted this bad, and did not want to lose this power he had just yet. Clark had to earn it. Heleaned closer, his breath warm against Bruce’s cheek, his hand sliding slowly, teasingly down to settle against his waist.

“Can’t they go hand in hand?” Clark murmured, his voice low as his fingers slipped beneath Bruce’s waistband, sliding his pants down in one smooth motion. Bruce didn’t miss a beat, shoving the fabric off his legs, more than ready. He used his teeth and hands together to unbutton Clark’s shirt, fingers quick and a little shaky as Clark mirrored his movements in tandem. 

The second Clark’s shirt was off, Bruce was on him, sinking his mouth into the warm skin at Clark’s chest, pressing kisses and rougher bites along the line of muscle. Clark let out a low, almost hissing sound, his teeth gritting as Bruce worked his mouth over him with a steady, almost possessive hunger. His lips grazed the tan skin, then pressed down harder, leaving no space untouched, the muscles beneath warm and pliant.

Clark shuddered, barely holding back, his fingers gripping Bruce’s thighs, the tension showing through the slight shake in his frame. He wanted his fingers to bruise, show signs of how hard he could push him. He wanted a sign of this night, a sign that he was Clarks . He craved that ache. It made something fierce bubble in Bruce’s chest, knowing he had Clark here, pulling soft sounds out of him with every scrape of his teeth. And the fact he couldn’t even leave a mark on Clark’s skin? It drove him wild, had him pressing his teeth harder, harder still, until Clark’s hands flexed on his ass hard, a ragged groan slipped from lips. That sound—yeah, that sound was all Bruce needed to go right back in, his mouth trailing over his skin with a quiet, smoldering need.

“Need you in me,” Bruce said desperately against his neck, the tension of it all driving him crazy. 

“Are you sure you're going to be able to keep quiet?”

“Depends if you can shut my mouth quick enough.”

“I’ll do my best then,” Clark let his hand travel to the band of Bruce’s boxers tugging them off quickly. The cold air from the fan on his dick made him shiver. “Since you want it so bad.”

Clarks were off almost as quickly, his cock just as girthy and long as he had remembered. It always made his mouth water no matter the amount of times they did this. It almost made him flinch to think of it inside of him. He craved that feeling badly…

Bruce looked down at Clarks hand which was already holding lube. He hadn't even felt him jitter when he had supersped to grab it. 

“Wow, you're getting better at that,” Genuine appraisal mixed with something entirely too carnal and sensual, though he didn't regret how Clark almost melted in those words. 

“Try and stay still,” Clark pressed a gentle kiss to Bruce’s neck, pushing his slick fingers into him. Bruce wanted to scream. It had been so long since they had done this and he definitely missed it. His long tender fingers felt so good and pain inducing at the same time in his tight heat. He wanted it all, all of that length and gentle hunger inside him now. 

He must've let some noise slip because Clark whispered soft hushes into his lips as he worked him open in between his legs. He was four fingers in, knuckle deep,  and the sweet encouraging quells didn't really help his absolute need to groan and whimper. He mewled a cry away, burrowing his face into Clarks shoulder. 

“ Please. ” 

And that was all he needed, all Clark had left in him to push his urges away. He disregarded how unprepped Bruce was. He lathered his cock in the lube, and Bruce resisted the urge to help, his mouth watering at the sight. 

“This is going to hurt, okay?” Clark looked him in the eyes earnestly. They both knew it had been about a month since they had been able to lay with each other, and Bruce really was tight… 

It excited him, Clarks words. He reassured him and told him he’d be okay even though those words were never explicitly spoken. 

“Yeah, Its ‘kay,” Bruce slurred, way too amped up for his own words.

When Clark started to set him down on it, they both made a soft garbled noise, Bruce’s much more strangled. His tip was strong and breaching against his whole, and Clark took him in a heady kiss before pushing all the way in. If they hadn't been kissing, Bruce would have groaned impossibly loud. Fully in hilt, it ached in a way it always had when it had been a while. His prostate twitched eagerly against Clark’s cock, already being touched by it simply being inside of him.

Bruce hissed softly through clenched teeth, an exquisite blend of pain and pleasure. His body adjusted slowly to the steady weight, clenching and relaxing as he shifted to find some balance in the overwhelming sensation.

“I know, I know…” Clark murmured, his voice low and soothing, hand brushing along Bruce’s side in a comforting caress, grounding them both in the closeness of the moment. “It’s okay.”

A bead of sweat traced down Bruce’s brow as he adjusted, impatience flashing in his eyes. “I’m ready, just… please,” he murmured, voice strained with longing.

Clark raised a brow, a slight smile tugging at his lips. “You’re ready?”

“Yes,” Bruce replied without hesitation, voice thick with resolve and desperation. Clark held onto him tenderly, and Bruce knowingly tightened his legs like it would ground him. Then, with a slow but so intensely hot pull, he was completely hollow again. He made a short inhaling noise in anticipation. The sharp and incredibly intense push when Clark was inside again made him make a noise similar to a scream. It was mewling and sensual, and he felt guilty the moment he made it.

Clark covered his mouth quickly, stifling a laugh with his own carnal needs. 

“Shhh..” He simpered in between his hushing. “You’re going to wake everyone up.”

“That sounded more like a command than a request,” came the reply, steady yet edged with a quiet challenge.

“Because it was. ” Bruce barely stifled a groan, his fingers threading roughly through his own hair as he clenched his jaw. His patience was stretched to the breaking point. Clark answered with fierce defiance, pushing up with unexpected strength, the movement sending an electrifying jolt down Bruce’s spine. His heart raced, and he fought to keep his breath steady. If they were playing this game, he was going to win. “Yeah... Just like that.”

“You’re disgusting .” The words were nearly a laugh, yet Bruce could see Clark’s resolve faltering, the faintest flush creeping further over his face, betraying his slipping control. The usual calm in Clark’s expression was cracking, replaced by something raw and intense, further than what it had been through the whole night. 

Clark started to pump faster into him. The pain had started to numb, and everytime he hit that bundle of nerves it made his eyes roll back and his back arch. He tightened his whole body, eyes shut as red hot fire prickled under every nerve in his body. He wanted release, bad. 

Clark’s hand found his cock, and started stroking gently, slower and less intense than the pushing inside of him. It felt amazing and so teasing on his sensitive cock, his hand warm and soft, everything he wasn't all at the same time. He thumbed at Bruce's tip, glistening. Bruce’s eyes opened wide as he panted in shock and exasperation. It was pleasure at its finest, raw, unblocked.

“You're so tight,” Clark chuckled, alleviating some pressure. “Have you been thinking about me all night? When you're all alone, when i touch you?”

“Yes,” Bruce panted, trying not to scream. “ Yes.”

“I do too,” Clark kissed the bolt of his jaw again, a juxtaposition to his heavy cock in him. “I think about you in all sorts of positions, especially bent right over my counter-top in that pretty sweater you always wear.” He could feel Clark smile against his neck. 

His chest heaved as Clark went further in, deep inside now. Fully in, he easily hit his prostate. And god when he did, his eyes flitted back, his stomach plummeting. Bruce rolled his hips, Clarks groan resounding through his body. 

“Clark… I can't—”

His blood pumped an army marching in his ears. Looking at Clark like that, ruby upper visage, blue eyes clouded with such steamy carnal ideas. He felt like his whole world was coupled around Clark, and he’d do such maddening things while he was in his world. He fucked him like an animal, rabid and hungry. 

His own voice made little, but not limited to being little, ‘ Ahns’ and ‘ Uhs’. They unfurled from his lips in strings. Clark held his own hand over his mouth as he did so. He went faster. 

Clarks grip on his cock was rougher now, but still fairly ginger. His strokes were exponentially faster, like a vibration through the shaft to tip. Bruce couldn't control himself anymore.

He was groaning Clarks name over and over into his hand, like it was the only thing he knew was true. Heat bubbled up through his whole body, his muscles clenching around Clarks cock that was firmly being pressed to his prostate. 

He came in a mess of white, all over the pretty satin shirt and him and Clark’s chest. He was so incredibly blissed out, his whole body felt like white hot pleasure. That perfect symphony in his body had been plucked so beautifully, every urge in his body fulfilled by Clark.

Then it came—that intoxicating sensation of warmth as Clark followed, spilling into him with an intensity that left him breathless. It was pure, a prickle of heat curling up his spine, flooding into his flesh and bone with every pulse.

Bruce’s body finally relaxed, sinking against Clark like he was dissolving into him, every limb heavy and tingling with residual pleasure. His breathing was uneven, his chest rising and falling in a rhythm that refused to steady. His skin felt raw, sensitized, as though each cell in his body was buzzing, straining to stay connected to the person still inside him. 

The rain still pounded against the glass, and the credits of the movie had been rolling for some time. It all felt so tranquil and amazing, the aftermath of a perfect night. 

“ God… You are amazi—” Clark gasped out, when a knock echoed through the whole apartment. 

“No way. Don’t tell me.”

“Yeah.” Clark laughed as Bruce looked up at him in such intense annoyance and anger. “It’s her.”

“I’m not fucking answering. She can knock as much as she wants.”

And she did. She kept knocking, and Bruce kept basking in Clarks naked warmth, his cock still warm and now comfortable inside of him. He closed his eyes, and pressed his forehead against Clarks neck, breathing him in. This was the best halloween he could have asked for.