Fic: Five Times Bruce and Clark Had Less-Than-Earth-Shattering Sex
Title: Music of the Spheres Interlude: Five Times Bruce and Clark Had Less-Than-Earth-Shattering Sex
Pairing: Clark/Bruce
Disclaimer: The boys belong to DC and to each other, but not to me.
Series Notes: The Music of the Spheres is a combined Superman Returns/Batman Begins series. The whole series can be found here.
Rating: R
Summary: Sometimes sex just isn't terribly spectacular.
Word Count: 1240
1.
"What went wrong there?" Bruce's voice was brisk and annoyed.
Clark frowned. "You tell me."
"Well, for a guy who woke his lover up in the middle of the freaking night to have sex, you didn't seem very enthusiastic."
"What? You're the one who woke me up to have sex! You can't blame me for not being properly enthusiastic when you're the one groping me in the middle of the night."
Bruce glared at Clark from his pillow. "Oh no you don't. I'm the one who woke up at three a.m. with your hand on my crotch. You can't exactly expect raging lust under those circumstances."
"But...I only had sex with you because you wanted..."
"No, I only had sex with you because you wanted..."
They trailed off and looked at each other for a while. Finally, reluctantly, Bruce started to laugh. "You mean neither of us wanted to have sex, but we thought--"
"--we thought the other one did." Clark flopped down onto the pillow next to Bruce with an exasperated snicker. "It's kind of like 'The Gift of the Magi'."
"Yeah, if O. Henry wrote it with a lot less watch fobs and a lot more mechanical obligation sex."
2.
Clark was sprawled out across the bed, taking up too much of it as usual, looking sated and pleased. He pulled the blankets up and to his chin and started to tug Bruce down next to him.
"Clark?"
"Mmmmph?"
"I will point out that although you have gotten your Kryptonian rocks off, there's still one very horny and unsatisfied person in this bed."
"Mmm."
"Clark?"
"Mmph?"
"It's not you, Clark."
Clark pulled sleepy blue eyes open. "Oh! Bruce, I'm so sorry." The eyes started to drift shut again. "Lemme just...rest my eyes for a moment...and then I'll fix that."
Bruce yanked at immovable blankets. "Don't you dare! I know how this goes. You say that and then you fall asleep and I'm left like this."
A yawn. "No, no. I won't fall asleep, I promise."
"You'll fall asleep in mid-sentence."
Clark's voice was hurt. "Have I ever done that to you before?"
"Yes."
"I promise I won't this time, because..."
There was a long pause in which Clark might have been collecting his thoughts to make a more cogent argument. Eventually Bruce, nerves still jangling, snapped, "Because what?"
Silence. It eventually became clear Clark was starting to snore.
"Oh, for Christ's sake." Bruce managed to extract a blanket and wrapped himself up in it with as much dignity as he could manage. "Not that you'll notice, but I'll be in the bathroom, taking matters into my own hands." He padded off down the hall.
Clark muttered something happy in his sleep and curled up around a pillow.
3.
"Clark, I can't believe Perry put you up in this flea-bitten hotel to cover the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade." Bruce looked around the tiny, dingy hotel room. "You should have let me pay to put you somewhere nicer."
"Nuh uh uh," admonished Clark, shaking a finger at Bruce. "No depending on the rich boyfriend to get me out of these assignments." He dropped a suitcase onto one sagging twin bed. "Thanks for coming by, though."
Bruce gave him a leer. "I can think of some ways you can show your gratitude."
They were sweaty and naked and just beginning a sequence of frenzied motion when they both abruptly became aware of a rhythmic squeaking sound beneath them: rrk rrk rrk rrk. Each tried their best to ignore the squeaking springs, but eventually the silly noise (rrk rrk rrk rrk) undermined all their attempts to be passionate. Clark broke down in snickers first, and started tickling Bruce when Bruce glared at him.
"Aw, come on, Clark," groaned Bruce. "It's been three weeks, don't let a squeaky bed get you out of the mood."
"I can't help it, it just makes everything ridiculous," gasped Clark. "Okay, hold on, I'll hover and you can...um..." He floated in the air and did some deft arranging with his hands. "There, like that."
It took a little while, but eventually Bruce found his rhythm again, despite the surrealness of having sex hovering a foot above a probably bug-ridden, broken-in bed. As he rocked back and forth, though, he suddenly heard a soft noise begin beneath him. Rrk rrk rrk rrk.
Bruce glared daggers at the man under him, whose shoulders were quivering slightly. "Clark Kent. Stop creaking."
"I can't help it," Clark choked, breaking down entirely into giggles, "It's just--"
Bruce rolled off of Clark and onto the bed with a thump. "Bruce Wayne and his Incredible Creaking Kryptonian. A hit at parties," he intoned sonorously.
Clark landed on top of him.
The bed gave an agonized squeal.
After that, they couldn't seem to stop laughing.
4.
Clark's hands were tangled tightly in Bruce's hair, tugging, making sure Bruce's mouth remained in the proper, delightful place. "Ah, God, yes, damn it, yes," he moaned. "Been waiting all day for this, you bastard, you cock tease, ah..." His back arched and tensed. "So close, so close, so close, yes, yes, yes...no! Don't you dare stop, don't stop now, you..." Clark was reduced to helpless choking noises as his lover paused to nibble his thighs for a while. Bruce went back to where he had been before with renewed vigor, but something was off now.
After a while, Bruce stopped. He looked deflated. So did Clark. Which was the problem.
"Well, Jesus," Clark explained at Bruce's questioning look, "You rile me up all day talking about this, get me crazy hot and over-stimulated, and then stop to tease me at the worst possible instant...just give me a moment, I have to calm down a bit." Clark took a few deep breaths while Bruce looked concerned. "It's not you, geez, don't get paranoid. It's just I'm too wound up. I'll be fine in a couple of minutes, just--"
The light of the Batsignal suddenly glowed into the bedroom, outlining Clark's chagrined face in golden light. Bruce sighed and started to pull on a robe.
"Bruce, couldn't we just leave the drapes closed now and then?" Bruce stopped long enough to drop a kiss on Clark's forehead.
"No, I suppose not," said Clark to the empty room.
5.
The room was dark and Bruce was wrapped in Clark's arms. They had both been tired after a night of patrolling, but still had had sex before falling asleep. It hadn't been anything special, nothing life-changing or traumatic or even particularly good. Certainly nothing worth writing a story about. Just the usual average kind of sex people have with their partners, the mundane, pleasant act that helps keep people whole and sane and together.
Drifting in the darkness, catching a moment of rest before getting up and doing it all again, the work and the charade and the routine, Bruce heard Clark's voice. "Thank you."
Bruce pulled Clark's hands tighter around his chest. "For what?"
"Oh, nothing." A pause. "Everything."
Bruce nodded, feeling his hair brushing against Clark's cheek. "You too."
Pairing: Clark/Bruce
Disclaimer: The boys belong to DC and to each other, but not to me.
Series Notes: The Music of the Spheres is a combined Superman Returns/Batman Begins series. The whole series can be found here.
Rating: R
Summary: Sometimes sex just isn't terribly spectacular.
Word Count: 1240
1.
"What went wrong there?" Bruce's voice was brisk and annoyed.
Clark frowned. "You tell me."
"Well, for a guy who woke his lover up in the middle of the freaking night to have sex, you didn't seem very enthusiastic."
"What? You're the one who woke me up to have sex! You can't blame me for not being properly enthusiastic when you're the one groping me in the middle of the night."
Bruce glared at Clark from his pillow. "Oh no you don't. I'm the one who woke up at three a.m. with your hand on my crotch. You can't exactly expect raging lust under those circumstances."
"But...I only had sex with you because you wanted..."
"No, I only had sex with you because you wanted..."
They trailed off and looked at each other for a while. Finally, reluctantly, Bruce started to laugh. "You mean neither of us wanted to have sex, but we thought--"
"--we thought the other one did." Clark flopped down onto the pillow next to Bruce with an exasperated snicker. "It's kind of like 'The Gift of the Magi'."
"Yeah, if O. Henry wrote it with a lot less watch fobs and a lot more mechanical obligation sex."
2.
Clark was sprawled out across the bed, taking up too much of it as usual, looking sated and pleased. He pulled the blankets up and to his chin and started to tug Bruce down next to him.
"Clark?"
"Mmmmph?"
"I will point out that although you have gotten your Kryptonian rocks off, there's still one very horny and unsatisfied person in this bed."
"Mmm."
"Clark?"
"Mmph?"
"It's not you, Clark."
Clark pulled sleepy blue eyes open. "Oh! Bruce, I'm so sorry." The eyes started to drift shut again. "Lemme just...rest my eyes for a moment...and then I'll fix that."
Bruce yanked at immovable blankets. "Don't you dare! I know how this goes. You say that and then you fall asleep and I'm left like this."
A yawn. "No, no. I won't fall asleep, I promise."
"You'll fall asleep in mid-sentence."
Clark's voice was hurt. "Have I ever done that to you before?"
"Yes."
"I promise I won't this time, because..."
There was a long pause in which Clark might have been collecting his thoughts to make a more cogent argument. Eventually Bruce, nerves still jangling, snapped, "Because what?"
Silence. It eventually became clear Clark was starting to snore.
"Oh, for Christ's sake." Bruce managed to extract a blanket and wrapped himself up in it with as much dignity as he could manage. "Not that you'll notice, but I'll be in the bathroom, taking matters into my own hands." He padded off down the hall.
Clark muttered something happy in his sleep and curled up around a pillow.
3.
"Clark, I can't believe Perry put you up in this flea-bitten hotel to cover the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade." Bruce looked around the tiny, dingy hotel room. "You should have let me pay to put you somewhere nicer."
"Nuh uh uh," admonished Clark, shaking a finger at Bruce. "No depending on the rich boyfriend to get me out of these assignments." He dropped a suitcase onto one sagging twin bed. "Thanks for coming by, though."
Bruce gave him a leer. "I can think of some ways you can show your gratitude."
They were sweaty and naked and just beginning a sequence of frenzied motion when they both abruptly became aware of a rhythmic squeaking sound beneath them: rrk rrk rrk rrk. Each tried their best to ignore the squeaking springs, but eventually the silly noise (rrk rrk rrk rrk) undermined all their attempts to be passionate. Clark broke down in snickers first, and started tickling Bruce when Bruce glared at him.
"Aw, come on, Clark," groaned Bruce. "It's been three weeks, don't let a squeaky bed get you out of the mood."
"I can't help it, it just makes everything ridiculous," gasped Clark. "Okay, hold on, I'll hover and you can...um..." He floated in the air and did some deft arranging with his hands. "There, like that."
It took a little while, but eventually Bruce found his rhythm again, despite the surrealness of having sex hovering a foot above a probably bug-ridden, broken-in bed. As he rocked back and forth, though, he suddenly heard a soft noise begin beneath him. Rrk rrk rrk rrk.
Bruce glared daggers at the man under him, whose shoulders were quivering slightly. "Clark Kent. Stop creaking."
"I can't help it," Clark choked, breaking down entirely into giggles, "It's just--"
Bruce rolled off of Clark and onto the bed with a thump. "Bruce Wayne and his Incredible Creaking Kryptonian. A hit at parties," he intoned sonorously.
Clark landed on top of him.
The bed gave an agonized squeal.
After that, they couldn't seem to stop laughing.
4.
Clark's hands were tangled tightly in Bruce's hair, tugging, making sure Bruce's mouth remained in the proper, delightful place. "Ah, God, yes, damn it, yes," he moaned. "Been waiting all day for this, you bastard, you cock tease, ah..." His back arched and tensed. "So close, so close, so close, yes, yes, yes...no! Don't you dare stop, don't stop now, you..." Clark was reduced to helpless choking noises as his lover paused to nibble his thighs for a while. Bruce went back to where he had been before with renewed vigor, but something was off now.
After a while, Bruce stopped. He looked deflated. So did Clark. Which was the problem.
"Well, Jesus," Clark explained at Bruce's questioning look, "You rile me up all day talking about this, get me crazy hot and over-stimulated, and then stop to tease me at the worst possible instant...just give me a moment, I have to calm down a bit." Clark took a few deep breaths while Bruce looked concerned. "It's not you, geez, don't get paranoid. It's just I'm too wound up. I'll be fine in a couple of minutes, just--"
The light of the Batsignal suddenly glowed into the bedroom, outlining Clark's chagrined face in golden light. Bruce sighed and started to pull on a robe.
"Bruce, couldn't we just leave the drapes closed now and then?" Bruce stopped long enough to drop a kiss on Clark's forehead.
"No, I suppose not," said Clark to the empty room.
5.
The room was dark and Bruce was wrapped in Clark's arms. They had both been tired after a night of patrolling, but still had had sex before falling asleep. It hadn't been anything special, nothing life-changing or traumatic or even particularly good. Certainly nothing worth writing a story about. Just the usual average kind of sex people have with their partners, the mundane, pleasant act that helps keep people whole and sane and together.
Drifting in the darkness, catching a moment of rest before getting up and doing it all again, the work and the charade and the routine, Bruce heard Clark's voice. "Thank you."
Bruce pulled Clark's hands tighter around his chest. "For what?"
"Oh, nothing." A pause. "Everything."
Bruce nodded, feeling his hair brushing against Clark's cheek. "You too."