Fic: Sweet as Wine (with Rai_Daydreamer)
Title: Sweet as Wine
Challenge prompt: 6. night, and the loves of... --![]()
20_inkspots (Dark set-- full table here)
Which came first: Art
Pairing: Clark/Bruce
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 2100Summary: Bruce procures some Kryptonian alcohol for Kal's birthday.
"What exactly is that?"
Bruce pulled off his cowl to reveal a rather smug expression. "Your birthday present. I had to pull some strings in the Green Lantern Corps, but Kilowog knew a guy who knew a guy..." He hoisted the small crystal flagon into the air with a flourish.
"It's very pretty," Kal said cautiously.
"Pretty?" Bruce made a scoffing noise as he pulled a couple of chairs up to a workbench that could double as a table and put the flagon and two small glasses down. "This, my dear Kal, is zhynan."
Kal felt his jaw drop. "You're kidding." Zhynan, or more properly zhynan tao nikh, had been the most highly-praised alcoholic beverage on Krypton. There were poems written about it, songs sung to it; true love was described as "sweet as zhynan" in a famous proverb. Kal had assumed zhynan had ceased to exist along with his birth home. And now Bruce casually strolled into the cave and announced he had managed to get some.
Bruce constantly found new ways to amaze him.
Kal pulled up a chair as Bruce eased the crystal stopper from the bottle and poured two small glasses of the sparkling aquamarine liquid, sliding one over to Kal. It smelled faintly of anise and cloves. "To us," Bruce said unceremoniously, clinking their glasses together.
A tentative sip was cool and effervescent on Kal's tongue. He wondered if Kryptonian alcohol could influence him under a yellow sun as he took another small sip. "It's delicious," he said softly, letting the flavor fade across his palate, a ghost of Krypton's flowers and sunlight.
Bruce smiled at him across the glass at his lips, the smile he showed only to Kal. "Rare and delectable," he murmured, and Kal felt his face go hot as it always did when Bruce said one of those elliptical things that could well be a compliment.
Another flustered sip, and the tiny glass was empty. Bruce refilled it when Kal put it back down. Kal deliberated whether it would be wise to have another glass, but it was very good, and he only felt a bit warm. He'd never been drunk before, of course, but he was fairly sure one was supposed to feel more than warm. A longer sip revealed deeper flavors, hints of smoky amber notes that tantalized and promised. "Mmm," he said, feeling heat running down his throat and down along his body. Another draught would be even better--but somehow the glass was empty again.
"A little more?" he said, holding the cup out.
"You sure?" Bruce looked faintly amused.
"It's tasty," Kal said as Bruce put the flagon to his cup again. The next swallow was exquisite, sparking warmth all through him. "Nice," he said, wondering why he didn't seem able to articulate how good it tasted more clearly. He went to put the glass down on the table and discovered that there seemed to be an odd lag between his thoughts and his actions; the glass clunked against the table with rather more force than he meant it to. "Oops," Kal said, then started giggling. "I think maybe I sound a lil drunk," he said.
"Sound?" Bruce was leaning back in his chair, watching Kal with definite amusement now.
Kal leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table, then propped his chin carefully in his hands. "You're cute when you're laughing at me, do you know that? Which I guess means you're cute a lot of the time." He smiled at Bruce. He felt really good. Bruce's smile looked so delicious. All of Bruce looked pretty delicious, actually. He took another sip of the zhynan to try and clear his head. It didn't seem to help. "I think when I finish this glass I'm going to fuck you senseless," he said.
Bruce's eyebrows shot upward. "Oh, you're a dirty-mouthed drunk," he said with a lascivious grin. "And as for your plans...well, you can certainly try," he said smugly.
"I am not drunk," Kal pointed out carefully after taking another sip. "And I can fuck you senseless if I feel like it."
Bruce did not seem intimidated by this threat. "I have the Kryptonite," he said silkily. "And I think I could put up a pretty good fight."
"Then I shall have to tie you down," Kal said, nodding solemnly. "So you can't fight me a bit." He almost started giggling again, but in mid-snicker something in Bruce's eyes suddenly turned all the lazy warmth in him to liquid flame. "Tie you up and, uh, fuck you," he said, trying to articulate with a voice gone suddenly honey-thick and yearning. He picked up the glass and drained it, seeing Bruce through the cut-crystal facets before his eyes, every dancing reflection an irresistible lure.
"You wouldn't dare," Bruce murmured, invitation stark in his voice and his eyes, and before he could let himself think at all Kal had them both upstairs, had Bruce lashed to the four posts of his bed, arms and legs spread wide, dark hair across the snow-white pillows.
He straddled Bruce's prone body as the cool eiderdown comforter settled down around them like clouds in the wake of Kal's furious activity, feeling his erection rubbing against Bruce's, panting slightly. "Great escape artist," he said hoarsely, lust intoxicating him now. "You can get free any time, free, if you want."
Bruce's eyes were half-lidded and hungry. "And why would I want to escape whatever you intend to do to me, my Kal?" His breath hissed as Kal inched his tunic up, the thick gray cloth sliding over muscle and scars, Kal's hands warm and trembling on him.
"Oh God," Kal moaned as he bent to kiss the bare skin at his waist. "Sweeter than zhynan, my Bruce." He slipped the pants down slowly, easing Bruce's cock from the constraining clothes, running his fingers through crisply silken hair, hearing Bruce's breathing, sharp and shallow. He wrapped his hand around satiny steel, sliding luxuriously along Bruce's length. "Such a beautiful cock," he murmured. "Sweet, so sweet, the way you make me feel..." Bruce's eyes were entirely closed now, his lips half-parted in rapture as Kal caressed him. "Tie you up and never let you go, you look so good all spread out like that..."
Bruce was trembling under his touch, entirely focused on what Kal was doing, and Kal felt dizzy with lust. He fumbled on the nightstand for the bottle of lube, making his hands slick, then slid the palms slowly along Bruce's cock. Bruce made a throaty sound at the cool touch, a hint of azure peeking between thick black lashes. "Thought you were going to fuck me senseless," he whispered.
"Change of plans," Clark said shortly. All of his posing aggression had melted away at the sight of Bruce's arousal, leaving only an aching emptiness and a need to be filled, to feel Bruce inside him...he stroked Bruce's cock until it was straining against his hands, listening to Bruce's breath coming short and hard with the rhythm of his touch. "Ask me," he said, nearly groaning at the yearning need, desire as sweet as wine, overflowing.
Bruce's eyes opened a little wider and Clark could see they were dazed with desire as well, all mocking detachment fled. The sight was beautiful and terrifying almost beyond bearing. "Ask you...ask...for..." He strained against the ropes binding him, muscled arms flexing, not trying to break free but luxuriating in being bound; Kal's breath stammered in his throat.
"Ask to be inside me. Ask me to let you fuck me."
Bruce groaned at the sound of Kal's voice, arching against the ropes. "Please," he said hoarsely. "I want to...want to be inside you. Let me..."
Kal slipped his own tights down with hands that fumbled against the cloth, more clumsy than they had been against Bruce's body. He moved upward to straddle Bruce again, his knees on either side of Bruce's hips, shifting to let Bruce's cock trace a path from his balls back, trailing fire along his body. Bruce seemed to be holding his breath, hands still pulling the ropes taut in delicious tension.
A guttural sound of delight escaped Kal as he lowered himself down, felt himself opened and entered. He took his time, savoring the feeling, each tiny downward motion tugging a cry from him, each cry echoed by his lover. He finally came to rest, panting and shivering at the sensation of all of Bruce inside him. The hazy fire of the zhynan seemed to make each slight movement into a rippling cascade of ecstasy, more intense than he had ever felt it; he was drunk with wine and lust and desire, overloading on pleasure.
Bruce was unmoving beneath him, but not passive; the stillness of potential, poised and ready. Kal rocked himself back and forth, electric sweetness filling his vision with light. He heard himself crooning wordlessly, a delirious exaltation, and lifted himself to fall against ecstasy again.
He was so close, so hard, he just needed a tiny bit more...when he discovered his knees had given out somehow and he couldn't seem to move anymore. Pleasure and wine ravaged through him and left him weak and shuddering, paralyzed with sweetness, overloaded.
He stammered something--in English or Kryptonian, he wasn't sure, none of the words seemed to make any sense anymore--but Bruce seemed to understand his dilemma. Kal felt the hips pinned beneath him shift, potential becoming actual as Bruce thrust upward into him, robbing him entirely of speech or volition or anything but pure delight. His panting cries seemed to belong to someone else, his body nothing more than a vessel for rapture that finally overflowed into mindless silver climax, Bruce writhing against him in the throes of his own.
Kal fell from incandescent light into velvet darkness with no transition at all.
: : :
He woke slowly, muzzily. The room was gray with pre-dawn light and Kal was mostly naked, very sticky, and having a hard time thinking clearly.
He was also wrapped up in Bruce's arms, the ropes hanging empty from the four bedposts. Of course.
He tried to say "Good morning" and it came out something like "gfh mnnng." The inside of his mouth felt like he'd been chewing on cotton all night. "Bleh," he clarified as Bruce stirred against him. "Issish...Is this a hangover?"
"Depends," Bruce said sleepily. "Do you wish you were dead?"
Clark inhaled deeply, smelling Bruce's skin, feeling his arms around him, the bone-deep satiation in his body. "Not at all."
"Then you're not hung over. Lucky you. Maybe zhynan doesn't give Kryptonians hangovers." Bruce ran a hand through Clark's hair. "I'll have to do some more studies on that. Maybe I can publish a scientific monograph: Effects of Kryptonian Alcohol on Kryptonian Physiology and Psychology. I've already achieved some insights--apparently it tends to enchance sexual receptivity, lower linguistic inhibitions, and increase sexual aggression."
Clark felt a hot blush prickling over--it seemed his entire body, as he remembered the events of the night before with more clarity. Bruce tied up and writhing, and his own voice saying--he moaned and tried to hide under a blanket. He hadn't done that, he couldn't have...
Bruce was chuckling as he unwound blankets from around Clark. Clark burrowed deeper, trying to disappear into the eiderdown. "I'm sorry," he said lamely.
Bruce had managed to find his ear among the sheets and blankets. "Mmm," he murmured into it, making Clark twitch. "Yes, I was terribly upset by your unforgiveable indescretions." A hand found his hip and soon Bruce was curled up around him in a cloud of white. "I think you're a very cute drunk, Kal."
Kal remembered the taste of the zhynan, spicy and bright, and the giddy haze of sensation. "Too bad the bottle's already half-empty," he said, half to himself.
A low laugh in his ear. "You're kidding me, right? An alcohol from Krypton that lowers your sexual inhibitions and enhances your sexual pleasure with no long-term ill effects? I've already run it through the computer and figured out to synthesize it." Bruce pulled him closer, wrapping his arms around him. "Soon I shall be able to intoxicate you any time I wish."
Kal decided not to point out that Bruce was already quite capable of that; instead he shifted to capture his lover's mouth in a kiss sweeter than wine.
Challenge prompt: 6. night, and the loves of... --
20_inkspots (Dark set-- full table here)
Which came first: Art
Pairing: Clark/Bruce
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 2100Summary: Bruce procures some Kryptonian alcohol for Kal's birthday.
"What exactly is that?"
Bruce pulled off his cowl to reveal a rather smug expression. "Your birthday present. I had to pull some strings in the Green Lantern Corps, but Kilowog knew a guy who knew a guy..." He hoisted the small crystal flagon into the air with a flourish.
"It's very pretty," Kal said cautiously.
"Pretty?" Bruce made a scoffing noise as he pulled a couple of chairs up to a workbench that could double as a table and put the flagon and two small glasses down. "This, my dear Kal, is zhynan."
Kal felt his jaw drop. "You're kidding." Zhynan, or more properly zhynan tao nikh, had been the most highly-praised alcoholic beverage on Krypton. There were poems written about it, songs sung to it; true love was described as "sweet as zhynan" in a famous proverb. Kal had assumed zhynan had ceased to exist along with his birth home. And now Bruce casually strolled into the cave and announced he had managed to get some.
Bruce constantly found new ways to amaze him.
Kal pulled up a chair as Bruce eased the crystal stopper from the bottle and poured two small glasses of the sparkling aquamarine liquid, sliding one over to Kal. It smelled faintly of anise and cloves. "To us," Bruce said unceremoniously, clinking their glasses together.
A tentative sip was cool and effervescent on Kal's tongue. He wondered if Kryptonian alcohol could influence him under a yellow sun as he took another small sip. "It's delicious," he said softly, letting the flavor fade across his palate, a ghost of Krypton's flowers and sunlight.
Bruce smiled at him across the glass at his lips, the smile he showed only to Kal. "Rare and delectable," he murmured, and Kal felt his face go hot as it always did when Bruce said one of those elliptical things that could well be a compliment.
Another flustered sip, and the tiny glass was empty. Bruce refilled it when Kal put it back down. Kal deliberated whether it would be wise to have another glass, but it was very good, and he only felt a bit warm. He'd never been drunk before, of course, but he was fairly sure one was supposed to feel more than warm. A longer sip revealed deeper flavors, hints of smoky amber notes that tantalized and promised. "Mmm," he said, feeling heat running down his throat and down along his body. Another draught would be even better--but somehow the glass was empty again.
"A little more?" he said, holding the cup out.
"You sure?" Bruce looked faintly amused.
"It's tasty," Kal said as Bruce put the flagon to his cup again. The next swallow was exquisite, sparking warmth all through him. "Nice," he said, wondering why he didn't seem able to articulate how good it tasted more clearly. He went to put the glass down on the table and discovered that there seemed to be an odd lag between his thoughts and his actions; the glass clunked against the table with rather more force than he meant it to. "Oops," Kal said, then started giggling. "I think maybe I sound a lil drunk," he said.
"Sound?" Bruce was leaning back in his chair, watching Kal with definite amusement now.
Kal leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table, then propped his chin carefully in his hands. "You're cute when you're laughing at me, do you know that? Which I guess means you're cute a lot of the time." He smiled at Bruce. He felt really good. Bruce's smile looked so delicious. All of Bruce looked pretty delicious, actually. He took another sip of the zhynan to try and clear his head. It didn't seem to help. "I think when I finish this glass I'm going to fuck you senseless," he said.
Bruce's eyebrows shot upward. "Oh, you're a dirty-mouthed drunk," he said with a lascivious grin. "And as for your plans...well, you can certainly try," he said smugly.
"I am not drunk," Kal pointed out carefully after taking another sip. "And I can fuck you senseless if I feel like it."
Bruce did not seem intimidated by this threat. "I have the Kryptonite," he said silkily. "And I think I could put up a pretty good fight."
"Then I shall have to tie you down," Kal said, nodding solemnly. "So you can't fight me a bit." He almost started giggling again, but in mid-snicker something in Bruce's eyes suddenly turned all the lazy warmth in him to liquid flame. "Tie you up and, uh, fuck you," he said, trying to articulate with a voice gone suddenly honey-thick and yearning. He picked up the glass and drained it, seeing Bruce through the cut-crystal facets before his eyes, every dancing reflection an irresistible lure.
"You wouldn't dare," Bruce murmured, invitation stark in his voice and his eyes, and before he could let himself think at all Kal had them both upstairs, had Bruce lashed to the four posts of his bed, arms and legs spread wide, dark hair across the snow-white pillows.
He straddled Bruce's prone body as the cool eiderdown comforter settled down around them like clouds in the wake of Kal's furious activity, feeling his erection rubbing against Bruce's, panting slightly. "Great escape artist," he said hoarsely, lust intoxicating him now. "You can get free any time, free, if you want."
Bruce's eyes were half-lidded and hungry. "And why would I want to escape whatever you intend to do to me, my Kal?" His breath hissed as Kal inched his tunic up, the thick gray cloth sliding over muscle and scars, Kal's hands warm and trembling on him.
"Oh God," Kal moaned as he bent to kiss the bare skin at his waist. "Sweeter than zhynan, my Bruce." He slipped the pants down slowly, easing Bruce's cock from the constraining clothes, running his fingers through crisply silken hair, hearing Bruce's breathing, sharp and shallow. He wrapped his hand around satiny steel, sliding luxuriously along Bruce's length. "Such a beautiful cock," he murmured. "Sweet, so sweet, the way you make me feel..." Bruce's eyes were entirely closed now, his lips half-parted in rapture as Kal caressed him. "Tie you up and never let you go, you look so good all spread out like that..."
Bruce was trembling under his touch, entirely focused on what Kal was doing, and Kal felt dizzy with lust. He fumbled on the nightstand for the bottle of lube, making his hands slick, then slid the palms slowly along Bruce's cock. Bruce made a throaty sound at the cool touch, a hint of azure peeking between thick black lashes. "Thought you were going to fuck me senseless," he whispered.
"Change of plans," Clark said shortly. All of his posing aggression had melted away at the sight of Bruce's arousal, leaving only an aching emptiness and a need to be filled, to feel Bruce inside him...he stroked Bruce's cock until it was straining against his hands, listening to Bruce's breath coming short and hard with the rhythm of his touch. "Ask me," he said, nearly groaning at the yearning need, desire as sweet as wine, overflowing.
Bruce's eyes opened a little wider and Clark could see they were dazed with desire as well, all mocking detachment fled. The sight was beautiful and terrifying almost beyond bearing. "Ask you...ask...for..." He strained against the ropes binding him, muscled arms flexing, not trying to break free but luxuriating in being bound; Kal's breath stammered in his throat.
"Ask to be inside me. Ask me to let you fuck me."
Bruce groaned at the sound of Kal's voice, arching against the ropes. "Please," he said hoarsely. "I want to...want to be inside you. Let me..."
Kal slipped his own tights down with hands that fumbled against the cloth, more clumsy than they had been against Bruce's body. He moved upward to straddle Bruce again, his knees on either side of Bruce's hips, shifting to let Bruce's cock trace a path from his balls back, trailing fire along his body. Bruce seemed to be holding his breath, hands still pulling the ropes taut in delicious tension.
A guttural sound of delight escaped Kal as he lowered himself down, felt himself opened and entered. He took his time, savoring the feeling, each tiny downward motion tugging a cry from him, each cry echoed by his lover. He finally came to rest, panting and shivering at the sensation of all of Bruce inside him. The hazy fire of the zhynan seemed to make each slight movement into a rippling cascade of ecstasy, more intense than he had ever felt it; he was drunk with wine and lust and desire, overloading on pleasure.
Bruce was unmoving beneath him, but not passive; the stillness of potential, poised and ready. Kal rocked himself back and forth, electric sweetness filling his vision with light. He heard himself crooning wordlessly, a delirious exaltation, and lifted himself to fall against ecstasy again.
He was so close, so hard, he just needed a tiny bit more...when he discovered his knees had given out somehow and he couldn't seem to move anymore. Pleasure and wine ravaged through him and left him weak and shuddering, paralyzed with sweetness, overloaded.
He stammered something--in English or Kryptonian, he wasn't sure, none of the words seemed to make any sense anymore--but Bruce seemed to understand his dilemma. Kal felt the hips pinned beneath him shift, potential becoming actual as Bruce thrust upward into him, robbing him entirely of speech or volition or anything but pure delight. His panting cries seemed to belong to someone else, his body nothing more than a vessel for rapture that finally overflowed into mindless silver climax, Bruce writhing against him in the throes of his own.
Kal fell from incandescent light into velvet darkness with no transition at all.
: : :
He woke slowly, muzzily. The room was gray with pre-dawn light and Kal was mostly naked, very sticky, and having a hard time thinking clearly.
He was also wrapped up in Bruce's arms, the ropes hanging empty from the four bedposts. Of course.
He tried to say "Good morning" and it came out something like "gfh mnnng." The inside of his mouth felt like he'd been chewing on cotton all night. "Bleh," he clarified as Bruce stirred against him. "Issish...Is this a hangover?"
"Depends," Bruce said sleepily. "Do you wish you were dead?"
Clark inhaled deeply, smelling Bruce's skin, feeling his arms around him, the bone-deep satiation in his body. "Not at all."
"Then you're not hung over. Lucky you. Maybe zhynan doesn't give Kryptonians hangovers." Bruce ran a hand through Clark's hair. "I'll have to do some more studies on that. Maybe I can publish a scientific monograph: Effects of Kryptonian Alcohol on Kryptonian Physiology and Psychology. I've already achieved some insights--apparently it tends to enchance sexual receptivity, lower linguistic inhibitions, and increase sexual aggression."
Clark felt a hot blush prickling over--it seemed his entire body, as he remembered the events of the night before with more clarity. Bruce tied up and writhing, and his own voice saying--he moaned and tried to hide under a blanket. He hadn't done that, he couldn't have...
Bruce was chuckling as he unwound blankets from around Clark. Clark burrowed deeper, trying to disappear into the eiderdown. "I'm sorry," he said lamely.
Bruce had managed to find his ear among the sheets and blankets. "Mmm," he murmured into it, making Clark twitch. "Yes, I was terribly upset by your unforgiveable indescretions." A hand found his hip and soon Bruce was curled up around him in a cloud of white. "I think you're a very cute drunk, Kal."
Kal remembered the taste of the zhynan, spicy and bright, and the giddy haze of sensation. "Too bad the bottle's already half-empty," he said, half to himself.
A low laugh in his ear. "You're kidding me, right? An alcohol from Krypton that lowers your sexual inhibitions and enhances your sexual pleasure with no long-term ill effects? I've already run it through the computer and figured out to synthesize it." Bruce pulled him closer, wrapping his arms around him. "Soon I shall be able to intoxicate you any time I wish."
Kal decided not to point out that Bruce was already quite capable of that; instead he shifted to capture his lover's mouth in a kiss sweeter than wine.