"Hey."

Clark looked up to see Bruce standing in the doorway of his guest room. He was leaning on the jamb, his arms crossed. Then his arms moved in a blur. Instinctively Clark raised his hand to catch a small white container thrown at his face. It was fast enough to break a human nose.

"Nice reflexes." Bruce smirked. "You don't want to lose that."

"You almost killed me." Clark rotated the container in his hand. There was no label.

"Do I try." Bruce made a show of massaging his right shoulder, as if the throw had hurt his arm. "Leslie delivered this. Three tablets per day, zero Kryptonite exposure. Depression's a bitch, but we'll work through it."

Clark felt his throat constrict. "I haven't-" He began, stammering nervously. "I haven't felt this way in a long time."

Bruce nodded, soundlessly acknowledging his pained confession. Then he walked past Clark and picked up his pillow.

"Oh, that one's fine for me. You don't have to-"

Bruce gave him a look that said are you stupid? and Clark felt his cheeks burn.

"Follow me."

Bruce's bedroom was as it always was, exceptionally grand, but exceptionally dark. He strolled inside and dumped Clark's pillow next to his own. Then he flipped the covers down and climbed onto his space. When Clark remained standing, Bruce cocked an eyebrow at him with mild annoyance.

"Get in."

Clark wrung his hands with unease. "If this is an attempt at curing my illness…"

Bruce gave him a glare so piercing that Clark almost bit on his tongue. "If a night of sex can cure depression, Leslie would be out of a job right now."

He eyed Clark's crotch and shrugged carelessly. "If you can't get it up, we'll just sleep. I don't mind."

"I've lost interest in a lot of things, Bruce." Clark muttered defensively. "But sex is not one of them." Still he remained standing, his hands clenched on both sides.

Bruce propped himself up on his elbows and studied his stance. "What's bothering you?"

"Your last memory was thirty years ago." Clark tried to explain.

"I've established that at least thirty times today." Bruce answered dryly. "Besides, you make it sound like amnesia."

"I just need to make sure we're on the same page..." Clark tried to look at anything but Bruce's body, despite the covers wrapped around him from the waist down. "If my memory serves me right, back then we were… friends?" He finished uncertainly.

"We were." Bruce agreed curtly. "And now I want us to become something more. You have a problem?"

"No," Clark's quick reply was telltale enough. He pressed on anyway, "Are you sure?"

Bruce exhaled in exasperation. "Kent. You either get in or get out. And close the door behind you." He pulled the covers up and buried himself within, turning towards the windows. He willed his heart not to pound as fast as it did.

Belatedly he heard the bedpost creak with an additional weight. Strong arms flipped him onto his back. Bruce almost cursed under his breath when Clark's body pressed up against him. His erection was pushing against his toned stomach.

Clark leaned in and murmured into his neck. His warm breath sent tingling sensations down Bruce's spine. "When people are shy, they act like they're shy. Not mad enough to slit someone's throat."

"I'm not shy." Bruce snapped. Even against the covers he could feel the hardness of Clark's cock. This was new. Everything, from Clark's surprisingly forward attitude to his anticipation for sex, was new. New, but not unwelcome. He watched as Clark flipped the covers down and joined him under the sheets. And since when had Clark removed his clothes? Super speed be damned.

"May I?" Clark tugged at Bruce's silk pajamas.

"Like I'm going to say 'no' at this point."

Bruce was rewarded with hungry lips capturing his own. Then it was a blur of movements, a sweet blend of tastes on his tongue catching him off guard. He battled with all his might at the intruder that was determinedly tasting every corner of his mouth. Hands roamed across his chest, a finger flicked against a sensitive nipple. When he managed to wrench his mouth free from asphyxiation, his clothes were already off. Whether they were still in one piece was beyond his knowledge.

Clark's eyes were screaming words so pronounced that even if the detective in him was poisoned to death, he would have easily guessed the meaning. Stay. Please. Please, Bruce, stay. Stay with me.

Then Clark's mouth was on his neck, sucking on his skin hard enough to leave a purple mark. His lingering kisses went down along his shoulder blade, kissing and sucking and biting. Leaving marks wherever he can, whenever he can.

On every patch of scarred skin, he left a mark that claimed mine. On his chest. Mine. Sucking on his nipple hard enough to garner a long, tortured moan from Bruce. Mine. Clark trailed down his abdomen, his hand cupping his balls, massaging them gently. His finger trailed from bottom to top, teasing Bruce by applying pressure on his shaft. Precum dripped onto Bruce's stomach. Clark licked the wet juices off his skin. Mine.

Bruce tried to push away the raw possessiveness in Clark's actions. The sweet promises that was dripping off Clark's every kiss. If you stay, I'll hand you the world on a silver platter. I won't even think twice. I'll give you everything you want, and I'll be everything you want me to be. He arched into Clark's firm grip around his cock, relishing the strong confident stroke that felt just right. It almost angered him that he was so inexperienced in having sex with a man, but Clark the Boy Scout knew exactly what he was doing. How to pleasure him, make him squirm, and make him whimper with need.

There came a strange emptiness within him that yearned to be filled. Bruce arched his hips and presented, in all his sex-ridden subtlety, what he wanted. How he wanted it. Strong, rough, and urgent. His eyes registered a blur of movement that took a fraction of a second. Then Clark was back, rubbing cold lube onto his tight, puckered hole. The bastard even knew where Bruce kept his lube.

Bruce felt a finger push against him, into him. Then he was rocking with the movement of Clark's hand, clenching around him tightly. A muffled cry escaped his mouth. It should have been embarrassing to say the least. The short wanton noises that he was making as Clark's finger pumped his ass... He didn't want to sound desperate, but he was too engrossed in the sensations that followed. Embarrassment was the last thing on his mind. He felt Clark's second finger enter him. Clark stretched his hole and played against his tight muscles. Teased him with his fingers, filling him with want.

"Relax, relax." Clark whispered, slowing his movements.

Bruce's entire upper back was pushing against the timber headboard. A sheen of sweat coated his body. He was panting heavily, more than he would sparring with any superhero. "Fuck me." He looked Clark in the eye and demanded. He was not going to beg, not even with the hot wet readiness in his ass.

Clark withdrew his fingers and dragged Bruce back onto his pillow. "I don't want to hurt you."

I'll damn you to hell if you stop now. Bruce thought with cutting menace. God his hole was dripping with need, wanting to be filled. If only Clark could just thrust his big juicy cock into his ass and pump him-

Clark entered him in one swift motion and that was the epitome of pain and pleasure coming together. It forced Bruce to let go of all his rationality, to let loose the growl of Clark's name he was withholding. He buckled under the pressure, shifting against the one thing that was hard against his back. Clark's hands were steady on his hips. "Stay put. You'll hurt yourself." Super strength was another virtue in sex, as Bruce found out.

The squelching sounds of Clark's hips pumping against his were hot enough to drive Bruce over the edge. If only Clark would release that killer grip on his cock. The thrusts felt never ending. Repeatedly he was pushed so close to the edge he felt he was about to fall. Then Clark's hand would bring him the briefest moment of sanity, before letting him drive off a cliff again. Bruce struggled to grasp the white-hot ecstasy that was slipping between his fingers every time he came close to coming. Clark's cock was hitting his prostate with practiced precision, blinding him with the strongest pleasure he had come to know. There was wetness forming in his eyes, wetness from denied completion. He didn't know when the lasting sweetness had turned into unceasing torture.

Please, please. Bruce was begging with the uncontrollable tremor of his limbs. Begging Clark to grant him release. For a moment he almost heard the cold, threatening undertone that was in Clark's breaths. The voice that said stay. Stay, and I'll let you have what you want. All I want is a promise.

Then Clark loosened his grip, and Bruce came, shooting all his cum onto his stomach. Clark's hand eased him through the last few drops. Then Clark bit into his shoulder, deep enough to draw blood. He released his load into Bruce's ass, filling all his wet hot tightness with his juices.

When Clark pulled out, limp and spent, Bruce had already lapsed into exhaustion. His expression was still drawn between surprise and pleasure, but his eyes were shut. It was an oddly animated sight.

Clark suppressed his contented grin and sneaked back under the covers, pulling the sheets up to keep them warm. Bruce snuggled towards him. His breathing never quickened as he did.

For a long while, Clark just watched the face of his beloved in the moonlight. He marveled at the sheer beauty of Bruce, living and by his side. Then he curled his arms around Bruce's slighter form, and shut his eyes. He had almost forgotten the feeling of being whole.