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FIC: Trust...But Verify

Nov 03, 2007 13:01

Title: Trust...But Verify
Characters/Pairings: Superman/Batman
Rating: NC-17
Summary:  Clark gets his turn to control Batman.  Or does he?
Word count:  1000
Note:  A PWP continuation from 5 Times Superman was Mind-Controlled and Didn't Try to Kill Batman. and Losing Control.

Bruce Wayne sat in his sparse quarters on the Watchtower, wearing only a robe.  Clark, chivalrous as ever, had told him well in advance when he planned to use Bruce's Grodd-adapted mind-control circlet, giving Bruce time to prepare himself.  Bruce had known he would, of course.  The idea of Clark snatching him out of some meeting with wicked intentions was...well, it wouldn't have been in-character for Superman at all, certainly.

Bruce adjusted his robe a bit fussily.  It was his softest, most comfortable robe.  Clark wouldn't be able to feel the specific sensations Bruce was feeling, wouldn't be able to feel the silk, only the pleasure the textures gave Bruce.  Wouldn't be able to feel Bruce's body, only the arousal the touch evoked.  Wouldn't feel the physical orgasm, just the feeling and emotions it created in Bruce.

Bruce took a deep, steadying breath at the idea of Clark feeling his arousal, his emotions, directly.  This was all easy for Clark:  Clark the ever-giving, the trusting, the always-open.  Not so easy for him.  He tried to relax.  He wanted Clark to feel his trust, to know that Bruce was comfortable, that he was willing to give Clark full control.  Things like that were very important to the boy scout.

Other things, however, were very important to the Dark Knight.

Bruce twitched his fingers again around the little switch in his left hand.  All it took was the merest flex, and he knew he could manage that tiny tic even when under full mind-control.  He touched the little button again like a talisman.  He was sorry he had to deceive Clark this little bit, but he was sure he couldn't manage it at all otherwise.

And he did want to give Clark the same satisfaction he had felt as he had controlled and moved the other man's body, forcing it to feel pleasure.  He remembered the rush of surrender he had felt from the other man, the trust as intoxicating as any wine.  Clark deserved to feel some of that, even if Bruce had to cheat a bit to give it to him.

He had been ready for some time, had in fact become aroused just remembering what it had felt like last time, but was still surprised when he felt his own right hand lift without his volition.  It stopped in the air and, ridiculously, waved at him;  Bruce would have laughed if he were not suddenly unable to control his vocal cords.

He felt a touch of panic and focused for a moment on the switch in his hand, solid and safe.  He could break free any time.  He could.

He traced his own cheekbones very gently, a finger moving across a brow, smoothing his own hair, then dropping to touch his lips lightly.  Then his hand slid down his throat to his chest, caressing and exploring.  Out of his control, his own body out of his control...it should have been his worst nightmare, it should have panicked him beyond belief.  And yet there was something soothing about the feeling, about relaxing into it and letting Clark make him trace his own scars as if they were precious and not just mistakes etched into his skin.  No need to panic.  He could still feel his switch in the palm of his left hand, even as it slipped across his ribs.

His hands stayed above his waistline a surprisingly long time;  Bruce would have expected Clark to be eager and zealous, but instead he traced circle after looping circle on his own skin, patterns almost hypnotic in their grace and ease.  He waited for the touch to move to caress his erection.

And waited.

His nipples were teased and taunted and he was unable to lean his body into the touch;  frustration and something else, something wilder, grew in him.  Clark knew, he thought in a welter of sensation, Clark could feel how much he wanted to be touched, why wasn't he doing it?  He could feel it as much as Bruce could, the tension and longing like a wave in him, building higher, all the depth of the ocean beneath it, arousal only the pale foam on top of the sea.  His hands brushed his thighs gently, flirtatiously, almost shyly, then drew fingernails along the inside of his thighs to the very edge of pain, like white heat in lines leading upward.  Agonized ecstasy struggled to break free, he wanted Clark to touch him--wished for a blank and rapturous instant that Clark were there in person so he could beg for his touch, could lean into him and give way before him, the sea before the sand.

Then he was stroking himself, he hadn't chosen to and he couldn't stop it and it was wonderful, the breaking wave beyond all control.  The noises he couldn't make were stuttering static in his mind, fire raging, desire raw and pure beyond words or expression.  He let Clark take him, possess him, his own hands stroking him harder, more urgently, his climax seething within him, breaking past all boundaries.  It surged through him and he submitted to it, submitted to Clark, knowing in the roots of his soul this was the only person he could ever give himself up to like this.  He heard his own voice speaking into the silent room:  "So beautiful, you're so beautiful, Bruce, my wild beauty, you're mine," and joyous assent twined around his orgasm and colored it through and through.

: : :

Bruce lifted his hands to pull his robe back together and was surprised to find they were shaking.  He looked down at his hands.

His empty hands.

The control switch was gone, and he had no idea when he had dropped it or where it had gone.  He hadn't even noticed.

There was a polite chime at the door.  "Enter," he said a bit hoarsely, touching his throat, remembering Clark's words spoken through his voice.

The door opened to reveal Clark in a sweat shirt and jeans, his eyes wide.  "I didn't--"  He broke off, staring at Bruce as if he'd never seen him before.  "I didn't know you trusted me that much."

Bruce looked down at his empty hands again, then back up at Clark, almost wonderingly.  "I didn't either."

fic, mind-control

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