Rescued (SuperBat fic)

25

"Uncle Clark!"
God, the kid has lungs.
I roll over to elbow Clark but find him already awake, his legs over the side of the bed, his head in his hands.
"Doesn't he sleep?" Clark groans, then shouts, "What's up Dick?"
We wait, but Dick doesn't shout back. Clark tows me out of bed and through the apartment.
We find Dick in his trapeze room, hanging off his suspended hula hoop, with just his toes wrapped around it.
"Dick, get down!"
Clark wraps his hands around my shoulders and shushes me.
Dick sways in front of us, holding his breath.
He spreads his arms.
"But look."
"Dick get down!"
Dick frowns.
Clark steps forward and catches him as he flips and falls. Dick puts his arms up when Clark lets go, as though he's finished an Olympic routine.
I can barely think for the rapid beat of my heartbeat.
"Nope, that never gets easier to watch."
Dick laughs.
"Would you go to sleep?"
Dick plods past us, shoulders slumped.
Clark meets my eyes and says, "That was impressive though."
"Shut up."
"Bed, come on."
Clark grabs me, throws me over his shoulder and carries me back to bed. I huff underneath his arm and bite back my smile.
Back in bed, I wrap myself around him.
I'm asleep in no time.
We spend the morning lazing around, dancing with Dick in the kitchen while we cook breakfast, listening to the news, switching the news off and replacing it with cartoons.
And as Dick sits in his room, zapping away at a video game, Clark and I spread out in the living room. Clark sits in his chair and works quietly surrounded by notebooks, pictures and markers. No more than ten minutes have gone by when he sighs heavily, lifts his things and wanders out.
He comes back twenty minutes later, freshly showered, smiling to himself and damp inside his clothes.
He settles low in his chair, hips raised a little, his feet on the stool in front of him. He smiles to himself and sucks his lips in. 
I throw the paper aside and meet his eyes.
"What’s up baby?"
Clark spreads his right palm wide, lifts it up high. It reads USE. He puts his left palm up in the air. It reads ME.
I smile for him, my lips twisting up at one corner. 
"Oh, you think it's that easy, do you?" 
He squirms. 
"You think you can make demands of me?" 
He nods, his jaw tight.
I rise from the sofa and enjoy the way his eyes skim down my body, to the low-hanging hips of my sweats. I walk over to him and stand as tall as I can, big and full with the confidence his attention gives me. I push my palms against his, test his resistance, move our palms as though we're washing windows. He chuckles gently. I lace our fingers together. 
"Well, since you want to play..."
I bring our hands down to our waists and walk backwards with him, glancing over my shoulder. I take us into the bedroom.
Clark glances away. 
"Look at me."
His head snaps around and he meets my eyes.
"If you want to play so bad, you can tell me what you want."
Clark blushes and shakes his head.
I take hold of his chin and look up into his eyes. 
"Then let me tell you what I want, Clark." 
He nods.
"I want to fuck you until you're sore and your muscles are tight and you've come so hard that you don't even want to move."
Clark nods again.
"Can you handle that?"
His Adam’s Apple bobs.
"Yes sir."
"Alright, strip and lie face down on the bed."
I let go of his hands and watch him remove his clothes, dropping them to the floor the way kids do before gym class. He throws himself down on the bed, spread wide like a starfish, his head turned to one side, between the pillows. 
"I want to tie your hands again, Clark. Behind your back this time." 
He lifts his head, pushes himself up on his hands, and looks over his shoulder at me.
"But I won't be able to hold myself up."
"I know, that's the idea."
He turns, sits with his knees high. 
"I don't like the sound of that Bruce."
I nod.
"Okay, okay. How about I hold your wrists down? No restraints."
"Restrain my feet," he says.
His eyes land on one of the finials on the low footboard of the bed.
"Alright. If you're sure."
I lean over and kiss his forehead.
He gasps.
I play the sound over in my head as I wander into the closet and grab a long length of soft rope from the box. When Clark sees the rope, he smiles. 
"Black and yellow, really sir?"
"Yes slut. Now will you be quiet while Batman ties you up?"
"Yes sir," he says, smiling.
"That’s not quiet."
He blushes and bites his lip. He flips onto his front. 
I take his ankle and the long length of rope and tie him to one of the finials. His leg is stretched and tight. I trail my hand down his calf and slip two fingers under the ropes. Clark fidgets, gasps, plants his palms. I tie his other foot, teasing my fingers up and down his leg, grabbing him, kneading his muscles.
Clark sets his forearms under his head and sighs softly, presses his hips down into the mattress. 
"Are you nice and hard for me?" I ask him.
He hums softly.
I kneel between his parted legs and take his hips into my hands. I pull him up off the mattress and settle his ass against my crotch, against the hard-on bulging inside my sweats.
Clark rubs his ass against me.
I lean forward, stretch over his back and push my nose into his hair. He trembles beneath me. I push him down, back onto his stomach, and skim my nose up his neck, to the small space just behind his ear. 
I take his earlobe between my teeth and pull on it, hard, sucking. 
He whimpers and pushes his ass up against my body. 
I skim my nose down his neck and draw back to appreciate him.
I grind down on his cheeks, angle my hips to press my clothed hard-on between them, to grind it against his pink rim.
I look down and take in the way he's spread; the tightness in his legs, the slight bend in his knees, the gentle and nearly imperceptible twitch of his rim as he grinds his cock into the sheets.
I press kisses down his spine, suck hard on the ridges of bone and watch hickeys spring up under my mouth. 
Clark breathes heavily and glances over his shoulder at me. 
I meet his eyes, mouth on one of his ass cheeks, prepared to nibble.
"Lick me."
He breathes, his cheeks red.
"Taste me. Suck me. Ruin me." 
"Fuck, baby, of course," I mutter.
I lower my mouth and drag my teeth across his ass cheek, take a little of his skin into my mouth and bite gently, nibble and suck. 
Clark groans and pushes his ass against my face.
I hold him still and spread my hands over his cheeks, hold him apart. I tease a finger down between his cheeks and skim it across the pink, puckered, wrinkled rim of his ass. 
He holds his breath, then breathes out as my finger skims away. 
I spank him, quick and light, to hear the clap echo around the room, to see his cheek shake under my palm.
I scramble around him and get lube and oil from the bedside table. His eyes stay on me the whole time. I take my time making my hands slick with a thin layer of oil, setting my fingertips on his thighs and skimming them up, skimming them over, his ass, without paying it any real attention. I spread my palms over his back and pull his hips up, just a little.
He turns his head and rests his cheek on the sheets, breathes into them to muffle his sighs.
I rub my thumb over the rim of his ass; feel the tension in the muscle and feel it resist when I push. I feel him shift and stretch as I press and rub his thick ring. 
The smell of the oil drifts off us. The thin, potent scent of honey wraps itself around us and sits heavy in the air. 
I lower my mouth and kiss his shoulder as I rub circles over his ass, as I whip him up. 
When I reach beneath his body, he's rock hard and dripping. He throbs inside my palm and pushes his length through my hand. I put a thumb to his wet head, lift drops of precum, and suck them off my finger. 
When I push the pad of my thumb across his rim, it puckers gently and yawns open. I am hasty to squirt some lube on my finger and slide it in, just an inch, hooking it. 
Clark groans and grinds against my finger.
"Fuck," he bites out. "More, please, sir."
I take my finger from his ass, bite my lip when he whines in disapproval, and press and rub and massage his perineum. His hips wind with the rolling motion of my fingers and push back, closer to me. 
I wait until he is moving quick and needy against me, then lower my mouth to his ring, my nose against the slope of his ass. I set my tongue to his rim, hold it flat and heavy on his skin. I wait a moment, hold my tongue still, and then gently flick it against the soft, puckered muscle.
Clark gasps.
He wriggles beneath me and presses his cheeks close about my face. I dig my nails into his cheeks and hold him in place as I drag my tongue around his rim. I start with slow, wide circles, to let him get used to the sensation, to let him decide if he likes it, to give him a chance to ask me to stop. 
He moans, calls out my name and encourages me. 
I make the circles tighter, smaller, a little faster, and let my tongue flutter against the widening rim, tease along the velvet skin that leads inside. 
We both know when it's time to give him more. His groans get short and sharp, throaty. His cock leaves a wet trail on the sheets when he shifts beneath me. His hands fist the sheets. Beneath my mouth, his ass is wet, yawning, beckoning. My fingers are wet now with the precum streaking down his length, down over his balls. I rub his mess into his skin and lower my nose to breathe it in - the dirty, natural scent of him. 
I drag my tongue over his perineum, up between his cheeks, and tease it against his slick, puckering rim. And when it flexes, I press my tongue forward, and feel it stick between his walls as he clenches and moans.
Still easing my tongue in and out of his ass, I feel his cock twitching inside my hand. He's soaked.
"Fuck, I'm close," he spits, lifting his hips, then lowering them.
He grinds himself into my hand and pushes my knuckles into the mattress. 
I don't lift my mouth to encourage him. I flick my tongue up against the thick muscular wall of his ass, then suck gently, just for a moment. 
He shakes and whimpers.
I repeat the motion.
Another set of shakes, another set of whimpers. Another drop of precum, too. 
"Bruce," he gasps, writhing beneath me. "Oh Bruce please, please come in me." 
I bring a palm down on one of his cheeks. 
And the gasp he lets out turns into a groan, a rasping, chuckling groan. I feel the cum spurt out of him, feel it hot and thick on my fingers.
Clark relaxes into the mattress, lowers his head to his forearms and moans happily.
"Are you tapped out?" 
He lifts his head.
"No," he says. "Not if you don't want me to be."
"Oh you're learning." 
He chuckles and pushes up onto all fours. 
The bed creaks and the ropes squeak quietly. 
I set my hands on his hips and press the head of my cock against his wet rim. I grind the flat tip of my cock down onto his rim, tip my head back and let out a quiet, needy groan. 
I squirt lube into my palm, pump my shaft to spread it, take my slick fingers and tease them into Clark's ass again. 
He grunts.
"More," he gasps. "Split me." 
"Anything you want," I grunt.
I ease my fingers out and press the head of my cock just inside his rim, rub it on the soft, velvet muscle.
His body squeezes at mine, grabs my cock and holds it in place, tight, tight enough to bite, to have me cursing and clutching at him. 
I hiss and lean down to suck on his neck. 
I ease my cock deeper and watch as he buries his face in the sheets, as he fists the comforter, as he shakes and twitches beneath me.
As I fuck him, as I press myself as deep as I can, he writhes and shakes. He pushes his hips back along my length, rocks in front of me. 
I reach forward, spread a palm across his back and push him back to the sheets, pin him flat.
He groans. 
"Let me fuck back," he grunts. 
"Oh baby no, no you wanted me to use you, didn't you?" 
Clark chuckles and blushes and groans.
"Fuck yes. Thank you sir." 
And I lean forward to anchor him in place, to fuck his hips down into the mattress, into the cum stains he's left on the sheets.
He fists the comforter and gasps and groans.
I feel my cock hitting on thick muscle, feel my eyes drop closed, feel my jaw drop open, feel myself falling forward to clutch at his shoulders as I thrust.
And he's much too much.
I come with my nose buried in his hair and my body tight to his. 
I lie on top of him for a few moments, breathing heavily over his neck and ear and listening to him giggle. He bucks beneath me, sensitive and ticklish. 
"Do you want to come again?" 
He shakes his head and twists to catch my lips with his.
"No," he mumbles into the kiss. "No, that was everything I wanted."
I thread my fingers in his hair as we kiss, as his tongue dances with mine.
I pull back and meet his eyes.
"Lunch?" 
He smiles.
"Yes please." 
I struggle up and bite my lip as I look down at his stretched, nude, beautiful form.
I spank him once more, for the gasp, then set about setting him free. I leave the restraints where they are and pull him off the bed and into the bath. 
We spend a lazy half hour mucking about in the suds and bubbles, playfighting and kissing. 
And only the distant sound of Dick moving through the apartment encourages us to get out and get moving. 
We pull our clothes onto our damp bodies and plod out into the living room with towels in hand, rubbing at our hair.
We find Dick in the kitchen, on his tiptoes hanging off the handle of the fridge. He glances over his shoulder at us, eyes flicking up and down and across, then goes back to staring into the fridge.
"Dad," he says.
And my heart pounds and stops.
Clark shakes me.
"Huh?" 
Clark widens his eyes at me, then glances at Dick.
"Yeah, bud?" 
"I can't reach the soup," he says. 
I step around the island, take the soup from the fridge and set about heating it. Dick hops up onto a stool and pulls Clark down beside him. They elbow each-other. Clark ruffles Dick's hair.
"Hey dad," Dick says.
"Yeah?"
"How come you didn't tell me you were Batman?" 
I lift my head and meets his eyes.
I feel myself mouth how but the sound doesn't quite reach my lips.
"I saw the suit in the wash," Dick says quietly.
"I, it's complicated," I say softly. "And I don't want you to worry about me." 
"Why don't you have a sidekick?" 
Clark chuckles quietly.
"Never needed one." 
"Well," Dick says softly, spreading his arms and stretching. "I think I could be good at that."
I do my best to chuckle with Clark. I reach across the island and squeeze Dick's elbow for a moment, then step away to get bowls for the soup. 
Dick bombards me with Batman questions throughout lunch. I follow him through to his space afterwards and help him with his homework. We paint ping pong ball planets as I tell him about my parents and what it means to be a hero.
And the hours pass in a blur. 
I find a moment all my own, a moment on the balcony, to stand with my chin tilted back and my eyes on the stars. 
I wrap a hand around a bar and move as though to climb it, but someone pulls me back down to the ground. 
I turn my head to see it’s Clark. 
“Bruce, what are you doing?”
“Getting closer to the sky.” 
He looks at me and runs a finger along my bottom lip.
“But why?” 
“I want to fly.” 
He smiles, eyes twinkling, and says, “Oh baby, we can fly.”
And the funny thing is, I don't need to. I don't need to watch the world whip by underneath me, feel the wind in my hair or sit inside the clouds.
I have Clark. 
I take his chin in my hands and kiss him, soft and wanting, a kiss to promise a life.