To Kiss a God

Chapter Nine: A Moment of Passion

SUPER SEXINESS!!!!! EXPLICT SO IF YOU'RE NOT INTO IT JUST SKIP TO THE NEXT CHAPTER YOU WONT MISS ANY PLOT

Clark could feel Bruce's eyes burning into him as he strips. Undoing his tie, pulling off his shirt, reveling in the way Bruce's eyes rake over his abs, the possessive need that lays in them. Clark fumbles with the buckle of his belt, pulling off his pants and shoes; Bruce's stare having subsided in order to hang his jacket on a hook. The tension building as he pulls off underwear.

"Well?" It's more of a challenge then a question.

Bruce growls at that and pushes Clark into the bed, pressing him down and kissing him savagely, ravishing Clark's mouth like he's drowning. Clark digs his fingers into Bruce's back, his bruising touch stopping momentarily at his waist. Then he slides his hand under the expensive fabric of Bruce's pants.

Bruce jolts and a violent expression crosses his face as Clark rubs him. His teeth sink into Clark's lip, sucking forcefully. It doesn't draw blood, of course, but it makes Clark moan, rubbing his erect cock against the fabric of Bruce's pants, creating agonizing friction.

He precedes to kiss down Clark's throat, sucking on his collarbone, as his calloused hand slides up and down Clark's erection. Clark feels like he's burning, his senses overloading and he shuts his eyes, desperate to cut off one channel.

Bruce lets go, covering Clark's body fully and thrusting against him, pressing them together. Clark's brilliant blue eyes snap open, and he writhes beneath Bruce, hands gripping the sheets below them in a failed effort of control.

Bruce is still every bit in control, ever the predator. Dark hair matted to his face with sweat, shadows of the room cast over his chiseled jaw, tense as he watches Clark's every reaction. Abruptly he pulls back, snatching what Clark can only assume to be lube from off the bed stand.

"Fuck me," Clark begs, aware of the desperation in his voice, his legs splayed open.

"I'll hurt you without prep" Bruce responds, seemingly unfazed, but Clark can hear the erratic beating of his heart. The way his hands tremble, almost imperceptibly as Bruce rubs some of the lube over his cock and fingers.

Another dominating kiss catches him off guard and suddenly his legs are around Bruce's strong shoulders, Bruce's cock at his entrance. He swears viscously as Bruce enters a finger into him, trying to adjust to the intrusion. Hating to admit when Bruce is right, Bruce slowly works him - patience and meticulous as always. He's faintly aware of the noises he's making, clawing at the scars over Bruce's back. Then Bruce is inside him, his full length making him gasp. Clark can tell when Bruce is holding back, the way his human body freezes, trying to allow Clark time to adjust to his length.

"Fuck me." Clark snarls, desperately needing the movement within him. Bruce still doesn't, and he's had enough. He squeezes all around Bruce, and the sound he makes is indescribable. Just like that, Bruce is undone, broken. He starts thrusting, slowly at first, making Clark moan in impatience. He can feel Bruce react to the noises he's making, quickly picking up pace.

Clark feels torn between pain and pleasure and he starts to lift his hips to meet Bruce's thrusts, joining the building rhythm. He can see when Bruce notices and loses what little restraint he has left. His thrusts become more forceful, more aggressive, the remnants of his control leaking away. Clark revels in the sensation of being claimed, being owned so thoroughly. The pleasure intensifies and he's aware that he's begging for more, "fuck me, God, yes, please."

The rhythm they set is frantic and cruel. His head lays against the satin pillows, arms straining against the headboard. He can hear their ragged breaths in exquisite detail, his body feels as if it doesn't belong to him anymore - it's been taken. He is being possessed. He doesn't care about what it means or where they'll be in an hour, he's here now and he belongs to Bruce.

"Bruce...." Clark whimpers and comes finally, a ragged sob drawing from his chest. There's something so right in that moment. The two of them tied together in the darkness of some room, Bruce inside him.

Bruce hisses and loses his rhythm, letting go and shooting his seed into Clark, crushing Clark with his body. There's something deliciously possessive in his eyes as he stares down as him. His cold grey eyes assessing and his hand comes up to gently stroke Clark's cheek.