Chapter Text
As winter turned into spring the year after he and Bruce had gotten together, Clark flew home from Metropolis a little after the dinner hour one night, pleasantly tired after a productive day of research and rescues. Nearing the Manor, he saw that Bruce was hard at work in the Cave as usual, typing away at the Batcomputer, and was already in the Batsuit despite the early hour. At least he had the gauntlets and cowl resting on the desk next to him. Shaking his head fondly, Clark adjusted his trajectory and came in through the cliffside opening. A mischievous grin touching his lips, he floated slowly into the Cave, moving in tiny, incremental movements, careful to stay out of Bruce’s peripheral vision.
He was just about a couple feet behind his lover, lying horizontal at shoulder height, arms reaching out, when Bruce idly tossed something over his shoulder. It landed squarely on Clark’s upper back and he crashed to the ground, belly-flopping on the cold stone floor, suddenly powerless.
“Ow,” he announced after a second, rolling over onto his back. “That was painful.”
The small object Bruce had thrown fell off his back as he moved, pinging as it hit the floor. Picking it up, he snorted in amusement; it was a black steel batarang, the edges dulled, studded all over with blue kryptonite chips.
“You’re an asshole,” he said, sitting up lazily. “What, do you keep that on you all the time?”
“That’s for me to know, and you to find out,” Bruce said, chuckling, spinning in his chair and leaning forward, resting his arms on his armored knees. “What did you expect, trying to sneak up on me?”
“How did you even get it?” Clark asked. “I didn’t think blue kryptonite existed naturally.”
“Not sure about that,” Bruce said. “I don’t see any reason why it couldn’t, given how many other varieties have turned up. But I had Jor-El make me a load of it the last time we were at the Fortress.”
“Betrayed by my lover and my AI!” Clark mourned dramatically, flipping the batarang to the ground and nudging it away with a toe until he felt his strength return.
Bruce shook his head, laughing. “If I ever had to use something on you, for whatever the reason, much better the blue than the green. I don’t know why you didn’t give it to me in the first place.”
“The blue is of pretty limited utility in a fight, given that it only works when it’s right next to me and doesn’t do anything to keep me from moving away,” Clark pointed out. “Using it in an emergency could risk people’s lives. The green is more efficient; it knocks me down, keeps me out of a fight.”
“And could kill you,” Bruce protested.
“That’s always a risk in what we do,” Clark said, shrugging. They shared a long, emotionally laden look. They had both long ago accepted the risk of injury or early death that came with being a superhero… but that wasn’t the same as accepting that their partner courted the same risks.
“Actually,” Bruce said in a light tone, breaking the fraught moment. “That wasn’t the only thing I had the AI whip up for me.”
He stood and walked around Clark’s position on the floor to one of the Cave’s innumerable storage lockers. “I’ve been trying to come up with some kind of romantic or meaningful way to give you these, but you know how I am with that kind of thing…” Returning, he squatted easily next to Clark and quietly handed him a black velvet box.
Clark bit his bottom lip in anticipation and opened it, his hands shaking a little. His brow furrowed. Inside were six variable lengths of flat, multitone herringbone chain, seemingly without clasps, adornments, or attachments of any kind. They were beautiful, but not what he’d expected, from Bruce’s lead-up. He looked up, eyebrows quirking questioningly.
“You got these from Jor-El? Is… it a Kryptonian custom he suggested?”
Bruce smiled. “Not exactly.” He reached out and picked up one of the smallest lengths. He unlocked the wristband that Clark wore—he usually took them off before going out publicly as Superman, since they disturbed the line of the suit and could shatter if Clark flexed his muscles the wrong way, but he always put them back on as soon as he could—and wrapped the new chain loosely around Clark’s wrist. When he touched the two ends together, they merged, forming an unbroken chain. Clark shivered involuntarily as the bracelet moved on its own, shrinking to fit his wrist.
“They use Kryptonian tech, like your suit,” Bruce explained. “I had them made so they would respond to both of our mental cues—you have priority, but I added some extra programming so you can tell it to stop listening to you temporarily.” Bruce stared down at the chain; it writhed, changing color, shape, and texture until it looked just like the steel cuff still locked around his other wrist. It held that form for a moment, then transformed again, into the deep blue, pebbled surface of Clark’s suit, merging into Clark’s sleeve until he couldn’t tell visually where the suit ended and the bracelet began. The inside of the cuff, however, retained a slightly different texture, enough that he could feel the edge against his skin.
“I assume you can still break them if you need to,” Bruce said. “I know you can rip the suit. But it should stand up to a lot more abuse.”
Clark felt tears form in the corners of his eyes. He’d never told Bruce how much he hated having to take off his steel cuffs when he went out as Superman; especially given that the two of them most often had sex when Clark was wearing kryptonite, it made him feel sometimes as if only Clark belonged to Bruce, while Superman was still unloved, never quite belonging with the humans amongst whom he lived. But these restraints merged his two identities, providing a constant reminder of what he and Bruce were to each other. He could look down at any moment and know that he was wanted. Needed. Claimed.
“Bruce…” he murmured, overcome.
“May I?” Bruce’s voice was rough with emotion. Clark nodded wordlessly. Bruce pulled out of his squat and sat cross-legged on the floor, pulling Clark into his lap. Lightly, he stroked Clark’s chest, giving the suit the order to shrink away, leaving Clark naked in Bruce’s arms. As the suit shrank away, the bracelet changed back into its steel cuff form. Stroking it, Clark saw there was a black emblem marking the steel cuff where it passed over his pulse point. Twisting his wrist to get a better look, he realized it was a bat symbol. He couldn’t help but laugh. He had no doubt Bruce had managed to so stamp every one of the new adornments for his lover, at least when they were in this form.
One by one, Bruce slowly unlocked each of Clark’s previous cuffs and replaced them, until only the two longest lengths of chain was left. Bruce lifted the smaller chain, perfectly fitted for Clark’s neck, out of the box.
“I’m going to need a verbal on this one.”
Clark leaned back against his lover, gazing deep into his eyes. “Collar me, Bruce,” he said huskily. “I give myself over to you.” Bruce groaned and wrapped his hand around Clark’s throat, pulling him up and kissing him roughly.
In the midst of the kiss, Clark reached out mentally and interfaced with the new restraints. He flipped on the code that Bruce had programmed in, telling them not to listen to any other commands from him until he switched it back. Purring, Bruce carefully and lovingly wrapped the collar around Clark’s throat. Clark shuddered in reaction as the chain pulled itself tight, transforming into a wide, flat choker, comfortably snug around the bottom of his neck. Bruce smirked, stroking the collar, and Clark chuckled again, pleased to see Bruce so smugly satisfied at the sight of him, bound and marked with Batman’s emblem.
“I also worked with Jor-El to make one other thing that I’ve been wanting for a while,” Bruce said huskily. He reached under the velvet backing and pulled out something shimmery and translucent. Clark squinted at it, confused, and Bruce stretched it out, sticking his fingers inside the object. Clark’s eyes went wide.
“Is that a condom? You had my dad make you a condom. Oh my god, Bruce.”
Bruce chuckled. “Technically, not your father. And he was very eager to assist.”
Clark groaned, feeling a little mortified.
“I’m not sure how much feeling I’m going to have with it,” Bruce said. “But I subjected it to extensive stress tests, and I’m confident I won’t be in any danger.” He kissed Clark again, shifting him to the floor and rolling on top. Clark kissed him back with dawning excitement. They had sex without the kryptonite occasionally—Bruce really enjoyed bottoming while Clark had his full powers—but Clark had never been able to feel safe enough to come while they were touching each other, let alone when Bruce was inside him. The fear of hurting his partner simply inhibited him too much, although Bruce had talked him through orgasm many times, watching with hot eyes.
“Got so many ideas I’ve been saving for this,” Bruce said, mouthing along the edge of the collar. “What kind of mood are you in, baby? You have anything particular you’d like to do?”
Clark shook his head, breathless. “I just want to be yours. Make me forget that I have any other purpose.”
Bruce’s pupils blew wide, the black swallowing up his blue-gray irises. “Yeah,” he said roughly. “I can do that.”
He kissed Clark gently, leisurely exploring his mouth. Clark lost himself in his partner, letting his body relax utterly. Bruce ran his hands down Clark’s arms and pulled his hands behind his back. The cuffs wriggled against his wrists as they merged. Bruce slowly disengaged from his lover and stood. Pulling the last, longest chain from the box, he touched it to the band around Clark’s neck, and it fastened itself around a slot that helpfully formed on the collar. Bruce tugged on the leash, and Clark floated upright, that being easier than getting to his feet normally with his arms locked behind his back. Bruce pulled him like a balloon to the elevator and through the Manor, to their bedroom. In the small part of his brain not consumed with lust, Clark sent up a devout prayer that neither Alfred nor Dick would happen to pass by at the wrong moment. Fortunately, his prayers were answered—or, more likely, Bruce had taken the elementary precaution of checking his security cameras before heading upstairs—and they encountered no one as they crossed the brief stretch of hall between the study and their bedroom. Bruce pushed him down on the bed and quickly fastened the leash around the headboard.
“You might want to stay there,” he suggested playfully, then began leisurely stripping off the Batsuit. Clark watched appreciatively while twisting on the bed, trying to get in a comfortable position with his hands still bound behind his back. There were several long minutes before Bruce finished, his suit components neatly stacked on the bureau, and he turned back toward Clark, now unselfconsciously naked, stroking himself erect. Clark licked his lips at the acres of bare skin and muscles, his mouth watering. Bruce slipped on the new condom and pulled Clark up to his knees with a finger crooked under the collar, kissing him hungrily.
“So,” Clark said playfully once he was released, “I take it you’re going to be using that a lot, tonight?”
“Oh yeah,” Bruce murmured, pushing him back against the bed frame and hemming him in with his broad shoulders. “It means you’re mine, and I’m going to relish it.”
Bruce worked his way down Clark’s body, kissing and stroking as he went. Clark moaned wordlessly. Reaching behind him, Bruce pulled Clark’s arms down until his wrists touched his ankles. The four cuffs snapped together with a click. Clark grunted as the hogtie pulled his body taut. Releasing the leash from the bed frame, Bruce looped it around the other ties. Crouching down to his lover’s level, Bruce nuzzled Clark’s temple for a second, and he felt the collar slither at the back of his neck. Suddenly, there was slack in the line and he sagged down with the sudden loss of tension, bending his knees and almost thumping his face against the bed. The collar, now seeming thinner and more flexible, pressed tightly against his throat; he didn’t have to breathe, but the constriction unnerved him. He thrashed a bit in panic, rising a couple inches off the bed as he pushed against gravity, but still found himself tangled in the ties. Bruce quickly supported him, guiding him to a stable position. He found himself resting with his knees fully flexed, his butt snug against his feet, and his head tilted back, pulling against the leash. Bruce had turned the restraints back into chains and all the connections into slip knots, Clark realized, so that if he pulled too hard against his bindings in one place, they would only tighten elsewhere. Clark swayed in place, still hovering a bit, his body thrumming in reaction.
“So sexy,” Bruce whispered, worshipping Clark’s body with his lips and hands. Clark groaned as his arousal spun out of control, raised rapidly by the tension and helplessness of his position and the pleasure of Bruce’s caresses on his bare skin. Bruce sank down into hero pose, sliding between Clark’s spread legs. Clark hummed as Bruce’s dick teased his entrance. Gripping Clark’s back and butt with both hands, Bruce pulled him forward and impaled him.
Clark gasped as Bruce began thrusting. Tied as he was, he could do nothing but hang there, letting Bruce play with him as he wished. Bruce continued to stroke and kiss Clark while pushing into him, but kept his caresses light and away from Clark’s trigger zones. Clark groaned.
Arousal had always felt somehow different for Clark when he had his powers, lacking the edge of pain that accompanied the mortal feeling of sexual pleasure. The closest he could get was comparing it to the moments of pure sensory bliss that a human might experience when sinking into a hot bath, savoring a bite of intense chocolate, basking in the warm sun. But he had never been this aroused while at full power without the release of orgasm, and as his urgency rose, he started feeling a literal ache, a desperate need for release, a physical demand such as his invulnerable body had never felt before. Clark started grinding himself down onto Bruce as much as he could without pulling the collar too tight, chasing that ache. Bruce just chuckled and sank farther down, keeping what Clark wanted just out of his reach. Clark whined deep in his throat.
“Work for it, baby,” Bruce whispered, relaxing beneath Clark. “Show me how much you want me.”
Clark groaned but obeyed, playing with gravity to move himself up and down on Bruce’s cock. He played with Bruce a little in revenge, lowering himself just enough for the movement across his rim to spark his own pleasure, without letting Bruce thrust in deep. Eventually, however, his own need spiked again and he began letting himself drop down hard, the collar around his neck tightening every time he descended. Bruce hissed in pleasure and rewarded him by stroking fingers down his erogenous zones on every downstroke.
“Trust me,” Bruce murmured. “Give yourself over to me.”
Eyes widening in understanding, Clark went limp and lowered himself into Bruce’s waiting arms, spreading his legs as wide as he could, burying his head in Bruce’s chest, letting the collar pull tight, binding every powerful Kryptonian muscle against another, with nowhere else for his power to go but against himself. Bruce growled, thrusting up hard, fingers rubbing at Clark fore and aft. Clark hung in his bonds, savoring the new sensations. He had never felt helpless or restrained like this with his powers at full force. He knew he could break the chains if he really tried, and with the tiny amount of willpower he had left, he tensed himself not to. His vision went black as pleasure rang through him, so intense it was almost painful, contractions ripping through him, remaking him. As he shook helplessly in reaction, the collar went slack. He collapsed backward, his suddenly freed limbs flailing wide, and Bruce fell on top of him, thrusting uncontrollably. Clark laid limply beneath his lover, still spasming in aftershocks, as Bruce groaned helplessly and came.
They laid together for a long time, panting quietly in rhythm, in perfect accord. Eventually, Bruce pulled out slowly, shifting his weight to Clark’s side. He discarded the condom and raised himself up on his elbow, kissing Clark long and lovingly, without aim or intent.
Pulling back, Bruce took a deep breath, visibly steeling himself. “I love you,” he said softly.
“I know,” Clark responded, grinning in effervescent joy.
“Clark!”
“I was just kidding! Put down the pillow, I love you, too! Come on, Bruce, I’ve said it like a hundred times. I love you, I love you, I love you! Stop hitting me!”