He met Clark's eyes with a brave smile. He wanted to lean less on the crutch than he actually needed, but why bother. He knew the invulnerable man would fuss anyhow.
"My God, Bruce! I had no idea it was this bad" he started, his x-ray vision no doubt scanning the broken billionaire from head to toe. He was only wearing a rope and a pair of loose pajamas pants – anything else would gnaw a stitch or press upon a bruise.
"With all due respect, sir, you should be glad you didn't see him two weeks ago" Alfred added as a consolation price. When Batman had tumbled out of the car that night, the old man had feared they needed contact a doctor of medicine, an orthopedic specialist, a dentist and a plastic surgeon in order to ever make his Master Bruce look like a human being again.
All of the swelling in his face was now gone, only a couple of stitches left over his eye and on his lip (at least when it came to all visible body parts), the immobile leg had turned into a manageable limb… Bruce felt confident enough to invite Clark over. And he needed his company.
Alfred understood the situation. As soon as he had placed the tray with mineral water, tea, coffee and sweets on the table next to the couch in the study, he made himself disappear – as a butler should in these sort of situation.
"I trust you will need no more from me, sirs, so I will see to some business in the eastern wing for a couple of hours. All other personal have been send home for the day, Master Bruce, so please give me a call if you need anything."
The eastern wing, Clark thought to himself. That was in the opposite end of the Manor. It practically took 7 minutes to walk that distance.
"But what if Bruce-" Clark protested, but he didn't get to finish the thought. Bruce placed a silencing hand on his shoulder that made him turn around as the master of the house answered:
"Thank you, Alfred. We'll let you know."
The British gentleman threw them a knowing smile and a nod before leaving the room.
Clark had followed him out with his eyes and surprised expression, which he kept in place as he turned around to look at Bruce and his devilish smile. He suddenly felt like he was a pawn in a wider scheme.
"Is there something I should know?" he asked with a grin of his own. Bruce chose to show him rather than tell him:
He grabbed him with his free arm, the other leaning on the crutch until the off-balance Kryptonian fell into his arms. Bruce then ditched his medical support in favor of his strong friend, who by instinct threw his arms around the crippled partner. Bruce than claimed his mouth with all his might. He would probably have hurt a woman or any other man by the sheer pressure from his lips, but he knew better than to worry about that sort of thing with Clark.
He stepped his good leg in between Clark's and moaned as he let the rope slide open between the long lusted for hands of his friend. No, more than friend – lover.
Clark returned the kiss, feeling the same palpable lust as he sensed from Bruce's loose pants. Still he chose to leaned back from the greedy kiss, a little out of breath and still supporting the weight of the excited man in front of him.
"Wow" he started off as he licked the last remnants of the kiss off his lips. "Has it been that long?" he teased in order to get Bruce talking. He was still hurt, and Clark wanted to know just how much hurt putting any physical restraints on him.
"37 days" Bruce said, completely out of breath and very annoyed of the interruption. "37 goddamn days."
He then threw himself at Clark again, but this time the reporter was ready for him and held his naked chest back with a strong palm.
"Really?" he asked and made a questioning frown.
"I don't feel like doing math right now" Bruce snarled, still breathing heavily, his lust almost slipping into anger. He didn't feel like waiting one more second.
"Now Bruce, I come directly from work. Give me a chance to sit down and talk, grab a cup of Alfred's perfect Earl Grey and I'll be there too" he lied. "I have all night and all of the day tomorrow" he continued truthfully. Perry had actually given him the day off – no cell phones, no e-mails, no nothing: A regular day off. He feared his boss's boss, who owned the Daily Planet and who was now panting in front of him with a raging hard-on, might have something to do with that.
Bruce was sleek. He quickly let a hand slide in between Clark's legs, knowing the guy could only stop him if he let go of Bruce's torso and thereby risked him falling. He might not feel like doing math, but using causality and logic to make decisions was like instinct for him.
"You sure feel ready" he whispered between clenched teeth forming a crooked smile. Even though Clark might have had the option to masturbate, he wouldn't have been with a partner in that same time frame. And even though Bruce was dying, he knew Clark would at least be suffering.
"Bruce…" he begged with puppy eyes. Even though Bruce found pleasure in hearing the strongest man in the world getting short of breath as he rubbed his growing erection through his cheap suit, the pleading always worked on him.
"Fine" he sighed, removing his hand from the desired area. "Fine… Just fine!" he also added sourly before throwing himself backwards towards the couch. Clark fought the instinct to catch him and help him to a softer landing, but he knew Bruce would hate that.
"I am not made of glass, you know" he gnarled, having guessed the Kryptonian's thoughts.
"And certainly not of stone either" Clark added with an awkward laughter, trying to hide his massive erection as he poured himself a cup of tea and Bruce some Italian roast.
"Certain parts of my physique seem to contradict that statement" Bruce cleverly punned back as he found a comfortable seat, doing his best to expose his excitement through the loose pant.
Clark tried to look away as he laughed and found a seat on the sofa. When he handed his partner the coffee, Bruce took it absentmindedly and began to take deep breaths. They reminded Superman of the exercises Batman used in the field when the pain got too intense for him to ignore.
Clark took a sip of the china cup. He looked ridicules – the largest and strongest man Bruce knew, trying to balance the small fragile cup on a just as small and fragile saucer.
"You seem to be healing up pretty well" he then said with an impressed head tilt before placing the china on the table again.
"37 days, Clark" Bruce tried again. He could go for a pity fuck. Or even just the lent of a friendly hand.
"That doesn't add up" Clark questioned. "I mean, I remember how we almost made the alarm go off at the watchtower."
"That was in March" Bruce explained dryly before adding with a raised brow: "But yeah, we gave Green Lantern quite the scare that day."
"Oh, how about at that banquette you attended at the Metropolis Modern Art Museum… That was fun!"
Bruce finished the coffee and placed his cup next to Clark's.
"That was me, giving you a blow job. And that was 34 days ago. Had I known this would happen I might have been more assertive about getting my fair share..."
"Oh yeah, it was" Clark added dreamingly, ignoring that last remark. Bruce had surprised him in the men's room in the middle of the night. He had used one of his black winged gadgets to lock the unlockable door and then silently thrown himself on his knees, claiming Clark's cock in his mouth. He had finished him off in minutes, knowing the Kryptonian anatomy in that department better than anybody, and then just left without saying a word. He had simply licked the last drops of come off his lip, corrected himself in order to better hide his hard-on, and then send him one of those dirty smile only a few of Bruce's and Batman's acquaintances ever got to experience.
Thinking about that, Clark suddenly believed Bruce's math.
"First there was the league mission to Apokolips" Bruce started listing. "That made you disappear for 6 days. Then I had a board meeting in Japan, you were then called off to that tsunami, and then I…."
Bruce stopped. Then he had been caught by Hugo Strange and Bane and tortured for 21 hours straight.
Clark swallowed hard. The tension suddenly went from one two another. The question of Bruce's vulnerability was one both he and Bruce hated debating. Or even mentioning.
"And then you almost died" Clark finished with something in his throat even his superpowers couldn't force to disappear.
"But I didn't" Bruce reassured, sending Clark another of those damn crooked smiles of his.
"I have however been stitched up from head to toe" he acknowledged as he shifted his seat in order to pull down the loose pant. "And certain areas were quite the challenge".
He exposed a long, freshly pink scar going all the way from his groin and ending halfway down his thigh. If he hadn't been for the tight briefs, he would have had to pull his genitals out of the way in order for Clark to see where the injury began.
"Ouch" Clark said between clenched teeth. He might be an invulnerable alien, but when it came to wounds in that area, he winced like any other guy.
"A wound that has made any kind of…" Bruce looked for the proper word in his mind and settled for "sudden movements extremely painful. Even slower movements might pop open the stitches. Stitches that couldn't be removed until two weeks had passed."
"So the 37 days is of complete abstinence?"
Clark was a bit amused by the mere thought. Batman was of course known for having complete control over his body at all times, being able to suppress and ignore pain, hunger, thirst, the need for sleep among many other human instincts. But this part of his physique Clark knew he had always had a hard time mastering.
"Yes" moaned Bruce, and this time not in excitement. "It has become quite the distraction."
"A distraction, even" Clark pried.
"You know I have the luxury of having an old friend serve me breakfast in bed every morning?"
Clark nodded.
"Well, Alfred took up knocking on the eighth day after the operation. He hasn't done that since I was sixteen. And the previous two mornings before his new habit had been quite… awkward."
The Kryptonian snickered again. He could just picture Alfred trying to ignore poor Bruce's substantial morning wood. Or even better: Poor Bruce trying to hide his substantial morning wood in the most indiscrete manner under those thin, silken sheets. Probably never learned any ninja moves for that.
"Hell, I had to recite the parts of the Batmobile in alphabetical order when Leslie came to remove my stitches this afternoon in order to avoid an awkward moment." He shivered by the mere thought. "That would have been like your mother catching us in the act."
Clark let his fingers gently play with the hair in the back of Bruce's neck.
"Poor Brucie" he laughed, but Bruce didn't even bother correcting him for using the no-go nickname. He just leaned his head back into that strong hand of Clark's. And Clark enjoyed seeing him this excited over a little cuddling in the back of the neck.
"I can't begin to tell you how horrible it's been" Bruce began, still enjoying his lovers gentle touch with his eyes closed. "I haven't been able to work, not as Bruce or as Batman, I've been cooped up in here with no one to entertain me but myself – and even that I couldn't do. It's been beyond frustrating to say the least."
"I'm sorry. I didn't know" Clark added apologetic. He hadn't visited because he knew Bruce hated to have Clark there while he recovered. Until the overly welcoming welcome he received, he had wondered why he was even allowed in the manor now, Bruce still too beaten up to do any of their usual activities.
Bruce sat up, not leaning into Clark's strong hands anymore, and opened his eyes to face the man next to him.
"Don't be." He sent him what seemed like a shy smile, but that couldn't possibly be the emotion hiding behind a gesture made by Batman nor Bruce Wayne.
He then placed his hand on Clark's chin, caressing the smooth skin. Bruce himself had somewhat of a four o'clock shadow. Clark liked that. He liked that a lot.
"You were one of the reasons I survived those 21 hours."
"Me?" Clark asked a little bewildered. "But I didn't find you. Tim and Barbara did."
Bruce removed his hand and looked down. He swallowed hard as he studied his hands. The right was beginning to look like a hand again, now that the swelling had gone down and the stitches had been removed.
"The thought of you kept me going. Not the thought of you saving me. But the thought that I could - would be with you again. It made me hold on."
His eyes became blank. No tears were shed, though. He would never do that. Not in front of Clark, not in front of anybody.
He dared to catch Clark's eyes again.
"You were the first person I asked for when I came out of the anesthesia. I don't remember, but Alfred told me. He didn't call you of course – we have a deal about that sort of thing. You can't come running every time I'm hurt, you have obligations. But at that moment, I really wished you could just sweep in and save the day. Like you always do."
Silence filled the room. Bruce held on to that cautious smile that Clark found irresistible. He wanted to hold Bruce so bad. He wanted to be there. He wanted to tell him that he loved him, that he would save him as often as Bruce would let him.
"You're really that desperate?" Clark finally said as he leaned back in the couch and removed his comforting hand from Bruce's knee. He might not be the world's greatest detective, but he was a pretty good reporter. And he could smell a con five miles away.
"What do you mean?" Bruce said as innocently as he could. But he knew he was caught red-handed.
"You hate all of this – what did you call it? – oh yeah: 'lovey dovey bullshit'. You're just doing this to get in my pants."
"Technically, I'm doing this to get you in my pants."
The playboy suddenly popped up on Bruce's face. Clark lifted a pillow behind him which he used to threaten Bruce for a second. The injured Dark Knight made a halt stance in order to protect himself.
"Hey, hey – I'm injured, remember?"
Clark slowly placed the cushion behind him again. The insulted frown turned in to two rolling eyes.
"Alright, if you're that desperate. I'll give you the first quid pro bono."
He smiled and threw himself down on his knees in front of Bruce. The physical reaction followed instantly, but he of course had to press his luck.
"First?" Bruce asked with a smirk few could copy.
"It's been 34 days for me, remember?" Clark offered. "I want in on second, third and fourth."
"You do know I can't even stand on my own, right?"
"Don't worry. You can lean on me. Or on all four."
Clark now claimed Bruce's mouth in the same way Bruce had claimed his after Alfred left. Two eager hands found their way up under the rope, opening it from the inside with a slight pull. The scars were a plenty, but Clark had quickly learned which to avoid. Bruce leaned back with a satisfied smile, feeling how Clark's busy hands found their way to his raging hard-on. The smile was quickly wiped off though, as a determined mine replaced it as soon as Clark's mouth went to aide his hands long, rhythmic strokes.
Bruce already began gasping. He could have come then and there, but that would be beneath him. Normally, he could hold for hours. Normally he could even pleasure an insatiable Kryptonian. But right now he could come in under a minute had he allowed himself to.
He almost panicked when Clark looked up and freed his cock from his lips to talk.
"If the first's on me, then no tricks. No tantra, no meditation, no reciting autoparts…"
"Okay, okay, fine!" Bruce quickly responded, still enjoying Clark's firm grip around him. "But don't mock me when I come faster than a speeding bullet."