Bruce slammed Clark against the reinforced wall of the Batcave, the impact echoing through the cavern. "You flew in here thinking you could play hero, but tonight you're my fucking hole," Bruce snarled, yanking Clark's suit open at the chest. His gloved hands shoved the fabric aside, exposing smooth, invulnerable skin that still flushed under rough treatment.
Clark's breath hitched, blue eyes darkening. "Bruce, the others—"
"Shut the fuck up." Bruce dropped to his knees and ripped the lower half of Clark's suit down, freeing his thick cock. It slapped against his abs, already hard and leaking. Bruce wrapped a fist around the base and swallowed him in one go, throat working without mercy. Clark groaned, hips jerking forward, but Bruce pinned him with one armored forearm across his thighs. The wet sounds of sucking filled the space—filthy, loud, deliberate. Bruce pulled off only to spit on the head and stroke it hard. "Gonna wreck this dick before I bury mine in you."
He stood, spun Clark around, and bent him over the workbench. Tools clattered as Bruce kicked Clark's legs apart. Lube from a drawer slicked two fingers that shoved straight into Clark's ass, scissoring without prep. Clark pushed back, taking them deeper.
"More. Fuck, Bruce, stretch me."
Bruce added a third finger, twisting and pumping. "Listen to you begging like a slut. Superman, reduced to taking Batcock." He freed his own cock—thick, veined, angry red—and lined up. One thrust buried him to the balls. Clark's moan vibrated through the cave as Bruce started pounding, hips snapping with bruising force. Each drive slapped skin on skin, the workbench shaking. Bruce's gauntlets gripped Clark's hips hard enough to leave marks that would fade in seconds, but the sensation stayed.
"Take it," Bruce growled, leaning over Clark's back. "Your super ass was made for this. Tight, hot, and mine." He reached around, fisting Clark's cock in time with his thrusts. Precome smeared across his glove. Clark's powers made him last, but Bruce knew exactly how to push him—short, brutal strokes aimed at that spot inside that made the Kryptonian shake.
Clark came first, shooting across the bench with a broken shout. Bruce didn't stop. He fucked him through it, using the clench to chase his own release. When he pulled out, he flipped Clark onto his back, lifted his legs, and slammed back in. Missionary let him watch every twitch on Clark's face while he hammered deep. "Gonna fill you up. Breed that invulnerable hole."
Bruce's orgasm hit like a punch, cock pulsing thick ropes inside Clark. He stayed buried, grinding through the aftershocks, then pulled out slow so come leaked down Clark's crack. They stayed tangled for a minute, breathing hard.
Bruce finally spoke, voice rough but steady. "Next time you show up unannounced, this is what happens."
Clark grinned, sated and filthy. "Counting on it, Bats."
