Clark has something to say

Until the end of the kiss, Clark felt inexplicably flustered, as if he had unknowingly lost something important to him, but he couldn't remember what he had lost.

But the kiss made him feel good.

Just like back when he was in love with Bruce, his emotions were easily affected, so that he hesitated to ask a question: "Are you agreeing, or do you simply don't want to continue this topic?"

Bruce snorted noncommittally, he raised his body, half-kneeled on the bed, pressed one hand on the shoulder of the god on earth, and gradually exerted force.

"Don't talk so much."

Clark leaned back a little: "But—"

He was kissed again, unlike the last simple and impeccable contact, this time, Bruce kissed him almost roughly, and he stared at those blue eyes that were close at hand, his head was messed up.

……what is this?

I don't know how long it has been since they were so close last time. As the supreme head of state, Clark's love life is blank, but Bruce is different. After his identity is exposed, many people want to mess with Batman.

Once he uncovered Batman's secret base, and saw the important figures of the Resistance Army in a meeting. There was a huge long table, except for Bruce, who was a beauty who grew up in Bruce's aesthetic point.

Hal groaned for a long time: "Hello? Am I stupid?"

But when Bruce straddled him, he still reached out to caress the back of the man's neck, and put his other hand on the man's fragile back.

It is a memory formed spontaneously by the body after countless conditioned reflex actions.

Few people in the world think Batman is fragile, but Clark is obviously one of them. When he saw Bruce's exposed scars on his body and the steel nails in his body for the first time, he suddenly felt that there was a man in his arms who had been beaten countless times. Break the glued glass man.

He was so nervous that he was sweating profusely, and he wanted to stop when he moved, and finally got stuck in a position where he couldn't get up or down.

Looking at each other, the scene was rather awkward.

Bruce gritted his teeth, with an unnatural blush on his cheekbones: "...Can you do it?"

Clark: "..."

I can, but I don't think you can. He expects to be a reporter who can win the Pulitzer, but he doesn't know what to say.

Master Wayne was annoyed, and stretched his arms around his shoulders, showing that he was fine with practical actions, but Clark still couldn't adapt. I don't know if Batman's sensory threshold was abnormally high because of his old injuries.

… He was just a Kansas farmer kid, and Gotham rich guys were too wild for him to play.

When the spine was touched, Bruce felt a little bit of a stress reaction for a moment, but he quickly calmed down, and he wanted to vent his disappointment that he didn't know where to put it.

Sensual stimulation can give him a brief moment of tranquility.

Superman is a good enough bedmate, he thought.

The fact that he got in touch with Superman can awaken Bruce's sluggish nerves. He was even a little excited, his body paused, and he reached out to tear down the uniform of the god on earth.

As a result, the wrist was held again, and the grip was still a little tight. Bruce was so irritated that he broke free with his hands back, his fingers resting impatiently on the neckline of the other party, and then moved out the long-disappeared Brucey baby. Cheerful and capricious tone.

"Boy Scouts?"

Clark looked at him uncertainly, his body gradually relaxed, and he defended: "I don't think I still—forget it."

Bruce twitches his lips oddly, and he's torn in two, part saying they should stop, part part saying he's now longing to be fucked into the mattress and have a hearty and supreme pleasure.

fuck it.

He decided to follow his true thoughts, and tore off the majestic and sacred red cloak. The gods on earth had many similar cloaks, and each one was too obtrusive. He rolled it up roughly, rubbed it, and threw it on the bed.

……

There is an ambiguous smell in the air.

The red cloak was in disarray, wretched and wrinkled, mingled with the damp sheets.

Bruce rubbed the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, slowly controlled his breathing, casually pulled the ball to the ground, climbed on the broad shoulders of the god on earth, and leaned sideways on the bed pillow.

He almost suffocated just now.

Clark: "...are you okay?"

He shouldn't have messed with Bruce in bed, but it's obviously not convincing to say it now, and he does feel good about it.

But he felt even weirder, looking sideways, the beautiful blue eyes of the man beside him seemed to be unable to focus, staring at the void lazily, his black hair was tied and stuck to his forehead, and the corners of his eyes were still a little red.

He didn't need to open his eyes to see Bruce's calf muscles trembling. This perfect human body was quite flexible, and training like yoga and Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu made it easy for his ligaments to be pulled apart.

Bruce took a breath and said in a daze, "What did you say?"

Clark: "...I said, at least cover it up."

Bruce thinks it's never over, and he even feels a little unworthy of the guys in the past who went out of their way to fuck Superman once.

It's okay for Clark not to speak, but when he speaks, he wilts.

No interest.

He even suspected that Clark did it on purpose.

Bruce himself is a thoughtful lover, but he usually doesn't bother to discover that side of himself, but if it's for the right person - say Diana, no, Diana can't be used as a reference.

Neither can Selena.

He thought about it, and finally thought that when he dated the last Playboy cover girl, he took care of her feelings very considerately, from before to after, unlike the Kryptonian rescue dog next to him.

Clark was still looking at him with disapproval.

Bruce let out a cold snort, bent down, lifted the red cloak rather disgustingly, and put it on casually without shaking.

Clark: "...I mean, forget it, you go to the shower first, or should I go to the shower first?"

Bruce couldn't say a word: "...You go first."

Then he watched Clark stand up in a trance and float into the bathroom. When the sound of water sounded, he took two deep breaths and held his forehead.

When it's done, it's time to put the business on the agenda.

He couldn't convince Clark, and Bruce found sadly that he had given the impression that the Supreme Head of State was directly crucified, and it was not up to him to prove that he was actually not as unreasonable as Clark thought.

He was still thinking, and finally Clark came out. The god of the world had wiped his hair half-dry, holding a towel in his hand, and was still wiping the water droplets from the ends of his hair. He finally didn't wear a uniform now, so he just looked for it. A pair of pajamas will do.

Bruce froze for a moment, but saw Clark put his hand down slowly, and said softly, "What's wrong?"

He didn't know that, from Clark's point of view, Bruce seemed to be ripped out of a cold shell at that moment, and he was still wrapped in the red cloak of the god of the world.

The extreme contrast made him look a little pitiful.

Like a house cat that was drenched in the rain, lost its way, couldn't find its home, was packed in a cardboard box, and had to start wandering.

But in the blink of an eye, Batman is back.

But that Bruce just now did exist.

Clark's attitude inevitably softened a little, he thought, maybe he could take this opportunity to talk to Bruce again, as long as he wants, there will always be a place for him in the league.

It may be that the hopes were too high this time. When he spoke, the voice of the god on earth was a little tense: "Bruce, let me ask again... No, I hope you can join us."

Bruce didn't say no like he used to, but he didn't say yes either.

Unlike inviting a new generation of superheroes to join the alliance, the gods on earth only need to fall in front of them and hand out a precious olive branch. Now, he is almost tortured by this never-ending silence.

Hope dwindled until the faint flames began to crumble when he saw Bruce and nodded in a slight arc.

Then, he shook his head again.

Clark was a little confused, so he still insisted on asking, "Do you agree?"

Bruce: "I can disband the Rebel Army, and there are corresponding conditions."

Clark nodded slightly: "You should know your situation."

"No." Bruce said, "Clark, I made a memory backup in the Batcave a long time ago. I have always kept this good habit. The last memory backup was three months ago."

"I told Tim, if I disappear for too long, to make a clone of me when he sees fit, and then import the memory backup."

Clark: "Fake."

Bruce calmly: "Yes, it is a counterfeit, but sometimes, people don't care about the authenticity."

He got his wish and saw the face of the god on earth gradually turning cold, and took the opportunity to propose his real purpose: "Abolish all concentration camps."

Clark thought for a moment, then nodded: "Yes, but I want to add conditions."

Bruce maintained his facial expression, and with his fingers on the red cloak, he gently stroked the comfortable Kryptonian fabric.

Then, Bruce heard the other party utter an idea that seemed to have been rehearsed thousands of times.

"Publicly announce that Batman has joined the regime and disbanded the Rebel Army, Cyborg will broadcast live globally."

Bruce looked at him incredulously for a while, then answered calmly and concisely.

"--Can."