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When Bruce finally awoke back in his body, he panicked at first. Wondering if he’d covered his tracks. It’d been 48 hours of switching bodies with Superman and Bruce had given into his deepest desires. Which admittedly felt amazing at the time but now just filled him with an indescribable shame and guilt towards his best friend.
He was laying fully clothed in his bed, still mortified but he swatted the bed for his phone and opened it. He opens his email and finds his encrypted mail he sent from Clark’s phone disguised as spam. He then deleted the evidence on Clark’s phone. He doubts Clark saw the mail on his phone since Bruce doubts Clark is the type of suspicious to double check the spam emails for secret messages.
The secret message in question?
Photos and precise measurements of Clark Kent’s erect cock.
A shiver went down Bruce’s spine just thinking about getting one in that likeness. He doubted he’d ever risk their relationship for his unrequited love. So this was the next best thing.
He put his phone away, and decided to sit up.
Or tried to.
It was strange, Bruce had trained to push past the very limits of the human body. He should at least be able to force himself out of bed, regardless of soreness.
…Soreness?
Bruce examined himself for a second, he was fully clothed- even to the point of shoes on the bed. But his body was sore beyond imagination. His legs quivered if he tried to move them, arms and hips and chest all aching.
A thought came to mind- and he immediately dismissed it. Clark isn’t like that. Clark doesn’t see Bruce like that. It must be something else. Maybe he forgot he couldn’t fly and fell out the window.
He was spiralling deeper into every possibility onto why it was so difficult for Bruce to move- what was Clark doing in his body?
And then he heard a thump on his balcony. Head snapping as he pushed himself on his arms to look higher.
Clark was on his balcony- no doubt to discuss what had happened. But uncharacteristically, he enters without knocking.
No matter, it must be urgent. Bruce tries to get up, hopes for the best and stands. His legs proceed to turn to jello. And he crumples on the floor.
Maybe it was the paranoia, the submissiveness of the position. Bruce knew he was untraceable. But he couldn’t help it- his heart started pallitating. Was he fast enough? Did he hide his evidence well enough? Clark couldn't possibly know how Bruce invaded his privacy. He was meticulous in his method.
Even so, he brazenly took measurements of Clark’s dick. It was a selfish and immoral act to begin with, maybe the paranoia was a package deal with his actions.
Clark, unaware of Bruce’s internal dialogue, walks forward. But Bruce doesn’t look up, his heart beating erratically and he’s too stuck in his own head.
"Bruce...” Clark's voice sounds huskier than usual. Like he's out of breath almost. Like he's stifling himself.
He knows. And an emotional pit of despair opens below him, every fear coming to light. His gamble hadn’t made it. Even despite not being able to stand he felt like he was falling over-
Something drips out of his hole, and that shouldn't be possible. Because he's been busy with work all week- even before the swap. There was no chance- no way in hell.
He feels it dribble out some more and his head turns sharply towards his closet. The doors were closed, yes, but the carpet on the edge seemed slightly damp, almost stained. And Bruce knows he didn't drop anything in the room. that stain wasn't there before.
He looks up at Clark, whilst practically kneeling on the ground. Unable to get up. His heart beats harder and harder, feeling the reverberations through his chest. Thinking of it now, his nipples feel sore and squeezed. His cock felt numb in the way it did after a long night of making love.
And then he sees it.
Clark. Clark the man who doesn't break a sweat fighting intergalactic creatures beyond comprehension. Panting, sweating, cheeks flushed and his hands curled into fists so hard Bruce could see nails digging into his skin.
Clark's eyes dilated like he wanted to absorb the movement of every atom in Bruce's direction. To cement the vision into stone.
Clark licked his lips.
He stepped forward, kneeled down. Reaching out for Bruce's hand.
He swallows, clearly nervous. Bruce thinks that he's not doing a good job of hiding his own nerves. His face must be beyond red.
Clark gently pulls the hand, and kisses Bruce's knuckles. And Bruce can barely hear anything but the sounds of Clark's wet lips on his hand. Going further and further up. Up to his shoulder as Bruce gave in, let him. He yielded as Clark left wet kisses on his throat, his jaw.
Before pressing his forehead against Bruce's.
Bruce took a single shuddering breath before tilting his head and reaching for the back of Clark's neck. Kissing deeply, slipping in his tongue because all he wanted was to taste Clark. Everything Clark had and would have.
Drinking and sucking until Clark made a terrible groan that Bruce doubted he'd forget anytime soon. He pushed Bruce backwards into the carpeted ground with a soft thump. Clark's fingers curled around the muscular hips that shook with exhaustion. Sliding upwards, his hands frozen from flying made Bruce shiver as he pushed up his sweater. All the while trying his hardest to lick into Bruce's brain through his mouth.
Clark, the bastard, took his sweet time sliding those despicable ice cold hands up Bruce's sides. Bruce couldn't help but feel bitter that he'd been forced into pliancy. Clark had all freedom to do whatever he liked.
But in a way, that did wonders for his confidence. Not even 5 hours ago Bruce was convinced Clark had never even considered Bruce as a fellow sexual being. But now Clark was actively, enthusiastically pursuing his lustful desires for Bruce. Even after seemingly getting his fill.
Cold hands made Bruce twitch and whine, Clark slid his thumbs above his ribcage. Cupping Bruce's pectorals, and he squeezed to his heart's content. As if this were the enactment of a fantasy he'd directed a million times in his head.
Clark kissed Bruce sweetly, licking a stripe on his lips before pulling his own head downwards. Nosing the edge of the rumpled sweater, pushing forward until he found exactly what he'd be looking for.
And uncharacteristically, he paused.
Before Bruce could question it- he felt a cold breeze, ice-like passing quickly before a tongue descended onto his nipple. Sore and tired- Bruce yelled from overstimulation. The numbing pain seemingly being overridden by the sharp stinging of cold ice. A pain so intense and unforgiving, having Bruce's eyes tear up.
Utter torture this was, even as blood kept pumping to his still-soft cock. Dribbling clear liquid that couldn't even be called precum inside his previously clean underwear. Tears rolling down his cheeks to his jaw to the back of his neck.
The crown of Bruce's head dug into the carpet as he shook and curved his spine. Whether to get closer to Clark's perverted tongue or to get away. He didn't know, he could barely compute anything at this point.
Bruce kicked his legs on instinct with all the stimulation- to no avail of course- as Clark continued to bite and suckle. And just when Bruce thought he'd started to get used to the sensation, that Clark's tongue had started to warm up.
The man did something unforgivable, something that made Bruce pull his hair and beat in his fists into Clark's unmoving head.
He froze his own tongue once more and moved onto the other nipple, leaving Bruce to get overstimulated out of his mind again. Crying and yelling, pleasure, pain and perversion swirling into a potion inside his and Clark's veins. His nails digging into Clark's head- yelling harder than Bruce had in his entire life. Legs arching into the air.
Bruce continued on like that until he felt the cold mouth warming up again. He looked down as Clark raised his head, admiring his work. The work in question being indents of his indestructible kryptonian teeth surrounding both his nipples. His nipples looked puffy and sore even just visually. Bruises already starting to form on the bites, no doubt making their place for the next month. Bruce took the moment to take deep breaths, tears stopping for a moment.
His hands reached for Clark.
His hands reached despite the blurry vision, his eyes full of tears.
All he wanted before they did anything else was a smidgen of comfort. Anything to prove that this wasn't all that was needed of him. That there was an end goal besides perversion here. That Bruce could hope for something more.
"Clark…" He whispered, voice hoarse with his yelling. Arms already shaking from the exertion of keeping them in the air.
And for a moment, Bruce was alone, for a moment he feared the worst. That Clark would fly off and leave Bruce alone to get his bearings in order. That he was a fool for expecting more than what he received.
He felt a warm thumb brush against his eyes. A second one following for his other eye. Wiping his tears gently, and then he saw Clark. His bright blue eyes staring down.
Clark, looking at him with affection and adoration. The same look he seen on his face before- the look he’d assumed to be something else. Fondness, revealing itself to be something so much deeper. A relief blindingly bright consumed Bruce.
Clark kissed his cheek and nuzzled his face against Bruce's. Bruce could almost hear Clark purring. Before he spoke up again.
"I’ll take care of you, B."
Bruce felt relief, joy and finally relaxed. He yielded himself. Showing his soft underbelly at last, without the fear of losing the hand that petted him so gently.
"Dar...ling..." He whispered inbetween sobs of relief.
Bruce turned his head and licked Clark's lips- trying his hardest to kiss and kiss and kiss-
Tongue in tongue, Clark’s face just as flush as it was when he’d arrived. Their heads tilted to accommodate the other.
They indulged in that for a few minutes before Clark started to move back again. Bruce whined in protest- but relaxed regardless. He'd do anything, now, for Clark. He’d been dying of thirst all this time and he'd finally reached a oasis.
He didn't mind being drowned in it at this point. If that's what Clark desired.
Clark pulled back, eye glinting with new found desire. Bruce curled his fingers into Clark’s hair. Hand’s quivering with effort. His cock still pumping with pleasurable feelings.
Clark only silently looked down and licked his own lips, he crawled forward a bit. Bruce was confused until he saw Clark unbuckling his belt- Clark’s dick poking through the suit- stretching the fabric. Bruce instinctively squeezed his hole and whimpered, lust flooding his brain. And Clark hadn’t even taken his pants off yet.
Clark caught Bruce’s eye and Bruce turned away on instinct, embarrassed that he was having such a loud reaction. Clark seemed to huff with amusement, shaking his head in his peripheral vision.
Without wasting time- he hooked his thumbs into the pants of his suit and pulled it down in one smooth swoop. Cock flinging upwards as soon as it was let out of its confines.
Leaking would be the understatement of the century- it was covered in thick globs of precum. Bruce was transfixed, breath hazy as is, he shivered in anticipation.
Each thick vein pumping with lust, the bright red head of Clark’s cock- Bruce wanted to taste it so badly it had him weak in his knees just looking at it.
Clark spread his legs further to the sides so he could almost sit on Bruce’s stomach. His cock hanging heavy in between Bruce’s pecs. That was when Bruce realized what he was trying to do. Clark grabbed Bruce’s chest- and smushed both sides to pillow his dick. Clark groaned and keeled over, eyes rolling before he refocused. His mouth slightly ajar as he gyrated his hips sliding and thrusting against Bruce’s chest. Letting out sweet deep grunts with each thrust- further aided by the copious amounts of precum on his dick.
Bruce could only watch, he lied there for a minute before swallowing. He brought his arms up and squished the sides of his pecs together so Clark could focus on his own pleasure. Clark’s own breath stuttered as he took a moment to see the image under him. It must’ve been a sight, a shuddering Bruce unkempt pressing his tits together to try and give Clark the closest thing to a boobjob.
Bruce watched as globs of precum dribbled out of the man’s dick, shuddering as it hit his chest in droplets.
“You can use it to cum,” he breathed out, “m- my tits, I mean.” Face flushing deeper red as he said that. Clark stared dumbly, like he had the wind knocked out of him hearing Bruce say those debaucherous words.
Then he looked to the side, and bit his bottom lip. “I… Have another idea.” And before Bruce could say anything, Clark superspeeded to be seated in between Bruce’s legs.
Clark hummed as he petted Bruce’s still soft cock, Bruce let out a silent scream from that sudden press of warmth. The front of his slacks having a clearly large damp spot. Bruce wanted to lean up- kiss those plush lips and suck Clark to completion, and he tried before his arm gave out on him. Leaving him pliant for Clark’s pleasure.
And good god what an image that was. To be nothing but a tool for Superman’s pleasure.
Clark gently unbuckled the belt, taking a cursory look before flinging it behind him. Clark wasn’t nearly as gentle with the slacks, Bruce hearing the sounds of fabric tears as Clark impatiently tried to get his pants off him, Bruce stunted his laughs at him. The man only pouted in response before pulling his pants off.
Bruce felt the cool breeze coming through the window- finally landing on his bare thighs. Clark threw his pants somewhere else and positioned himself between Bruce’s thighs. Picking up both of Bruce’s muscular thighs to press against his cock.
And Clark did something else as well- that was making Bruce drool with electric pleasure. Clark’s thick cock pressed against Bruce’s overspent soft one. Pushing the edges of every nerve with every slow starting slide.
The feeling of Clark’s thick cock grinding into Bruce’s through his thighs, the slick sounds loud and humiliating if Bruce could hear anything but white noise. His legs raised where Clark touched him- his toes curling inside his loafers. His back arching as he suffocated in it.
He was shuddering and screaming in overstimulation- he couldn’t think, couldn't feel anything but Clark’s cock on it. He’d never been pushed this far before- he couldn't even imagine what Clark had been doing in his body to make him this sensitive. Clark kept thrusting unforgivingly, the pleasure matching the pain of it all. Bruce couldn't breathe, he couldn’t take a minute to rest- it was all pleasure. Everything with Clark was pure liquid pleasure.
Bruce finally came and it felt like an internal tsunami. Mountains and mountaims of pleasure washed over him and Bruce was gone, his mind blank as he swam through the orgasm. Eyes reaching the back of his head as he came and came and came. And feeling slick cum again hitting him in his chest, as Clark doubled over Bruce. Seemingly having reached completion as well. Groaning loudly, opposed to Bruce's silent break.
Bruce couldn’t move, or think really. He was just floating through bliss, pleasure, and... Tranquillity. He could distantly feel soft kisses on his cheeks with whispers of love confessions said ardently and repeatedly. Bruce’s tears were being kissed away by the man who caused them.
Bruce came back to reality a while later. And he was in his bathtub, and he wasn’t alone. He could feel reverberations on his back as someone held onto him and cuddled with him in the foamy perfumed water. His hair was already washed and body scrubbed. The comfortable heat of the water and body behind him helped ease the deep aching soreness in his body.
He leaned his head back to make eye contact with the purring kryptonian, who seemed to finally notice he was back.
“Bruce!”
He grinned devilishly.
“You took a photo of my dick?”
Bruce groaned a quiet; “Fuck.” and turned away. “Nevermind... Uh. What I did-” Clark rolled his eyes at the deflection. “-what on God’s green earth were you doing in my body?”
Clark laughed. Bruce looked back at him. “I’m serious Kent. I couldn’t even stand-”
Clark pecked Bruce quickly, “I was going to be civil you know. But then I checked your phone and got an incredibly encrypted email. Took me a second to figure out what I was looking at. Then I realized,” he tilted his head to Bruce’s ears. “You’re a shameless pervert who looked at my dick first chance. You. Got.”
Bruce tried to go underwater to hide, Clark held him up and squeezed his hand holding Bruce's. He wanted so dearly to die to stop feeling so mortified. But that didn’t matter to the other man so it seemed, so he continued, “So I had to level the playing field. Simple as that.” He continued to hug Bruce, who held Clark’s hand. Squeezing every few moments.
“By masturbating to test the limits of the human body?”
Clark pouted, “Well, you don’t have to put it like that. It sounds so perverted.”
Bruce looked at him, and swallowed the desire to say Because it is. Instead a more relevant question arose. Bruce swallowed nervously, lip quivering as he forced himself to grit out-
“Are we-”
“We’re dating.” Clark said with a type of finality.
“...So-”
“I expect you to end things with a lot of people, I don’t like sharing.”
Bruce stayed silent for a second, “Don’t leave me for Lois.”
Clark hugged Bruce tighter, “All in the past, you can’t get rid of me that easy.” He kissed the back of Bruce’s ear.
Bruce flushed, looking away from Clark. Swallowing his fears before picking up the hand he was intertwined with. Before kissing the man’s knuckles, just like Clark had done.
“Hardly a romantic start to this.” Bruce huffed.
Clark rested his forehead on Bruce’s shoulder, “I’ll cook us dinner, we’ll go on dates, and do everything like normal couples.”
“Yeah.” he laughed, “Alright.” And put a mental pin on the custom order, seemed like he wouldn't need that anymore.