Clark has something to say

"If the bed is collapsed by you, we can only go to the Batmobile today." Bruce stared at Clark for a few seconds with a half-smile.

Clark's ears were burning red.

He shrank far away, and now the distance between them can fit a Batmobile, he stammered: "Why the Batmobile—no, why should I sleep with you?"

Bruce was silent for a while.

Clark: "...!"

Clark's face became quite exciting. He quickly went through the conversation that happened before, and his expression gradually changed from panic to panic with a hint of sudden realization.

Crashed.

Wait, wait, what's the situation, his little thoughts should be well hidden, but why can Bruce understand his sleep as sleep... Is this the people of Gotham?

Bruce leaned against the head of the bed with interest.

It has to be said that his withdrawal symptoms were interrupted quite a bit by this sudden event.

The reason why he misunderstood was because no one simply invited him to go to bed to rest, except for the Robins. In addition, in that memory, he and the gods in the world were confused, and he took it for granted that Clark was the same.

He doesn't feel this kind of embarrassing thing in the eyes of ordinary people. On the one hand, someone is more embarrassing than him, and on the other hand, he is longing for this Kryptonian, and there are many ridiculous things caused by Baby Bruce. Go, the reason why this bed is so big is because it has to accommodate more than one person.

His eyes fell on the horizontal stick on the top of the bed without any trace.

Clark was completely in a shutdown state, and his super brain kept echoing strange questions like sleeping or not. His eyes were weak, and he didn't dare to glance at Bruce. Who knows what he did in the shower just now.

Forget it, Kent.

Then his wrist was held by a hot hand.

"So." Bruce's knees sunk into a dent in the mattress, and the towels that were already useless fell apart, and he smiled at Clark: "I did get ready."

Clark asked without thinking, "Do you do this every time?"

"Of course not." Bruce replied in that tongue-tip-like tone: "If it's someone else, they don't need me to do this."

He paused for a while, and said honestly: "And I'm not ready to develop a man of steel. Before there is no definite data, I don't know whether there will be uncontrollable risks when you get nervous."

Clark was in a terribly distraught mood.

Unlike Bruce, he is not so casual about close contact. Sex should be a natural move when love continues to rise to a certain level. Compared with Bruce himself, he is not so interested in sleeping with Bruce.

Bruce was losing patience bit by bit.

He tightened his fingers and asked calmly: "Don't waste time, so do you want to sleep?"

The corners of Clark's eyes twitched. In order to change the subject, he forcibly shifted his focus to the horizontal stick: "Is this thing not as ordinary as you said?"

Bruce raised an eyebrow: "You can try it yourself."

Clark choked.

He opened the bedside table casually, frowned, and picked out a bunch of small props from it pickily, and threw it on the bed. Obviously, these things were still too fragile for the Man of Steel. Bruce looked at Clark again, slowly Get out of bed.

Clark was almost suffocating.

The object of his long-term covetousness is now hanging on the narrow, do not know what the purpose of the bath towel, while walking shamelessly towards the pile of uniforms he threw on the ground, kicking the uniforms away impatiently, he just Barefoot on the stately, symbolic black cloak, while stooping to rummage through the damn utility belt.

Rao.

From his point of view.

He now knows how this person prepared before.

Clark buried his face in his hands, but couldn't help but let his eyes see through the gap, Bruce seemed to have finally found what he wanted, but he didn't throw away the universal belt, he just took the goddamn thing Coming towards the mattress!

He was in a bad mood for a while, and as far as he knew, there must be kryptonite in that belt, but if Superman refused Batman's sleep request and got kryptonite in the face-yes, he knew Bruce only Use the damn thing as a last resort, but who's to say there's nothing else in that belt?

"I can't stand up," Clark murmured miserably. "Bruce, I swear if you use that thing, Luthor will laugh out loud, he'll—"

Bruce looked at him inexplicably: "What are you thinking?"

"Kryptonite."

As soon as the words fell, Bruce's expression became complicated at a speed visible to the naked eye.

... Could it be that the way the Kryptonian spacecraft landed was not right, so that the last Kryptonian had a weird way of thinking, why did Clark think he would hit him with kryptonite?

"Even if it's me." He gestured slowly and solemnly: "Superman is fine, and God on Earth is fine, but if it's just because you want to experience the joy of dying, it's too much, if you really If you want to try, we can try the red sun lamp another day."

Clark took a deep breath.

Oh shit.

With his precarious rationality, he asked the last question: "So what are you looking for?"

Bruce pulled out a small grapple gun and waved it in Clark's eyes.

He started to have a fever.

……

……

He held the red cloak between his legs, and its touch was indeed as wonderful as he imagined. The intense stimulation spread from the body organs along the spine to the whole body, and finally exploded in the brain.

He gripped the curly black hair between his fingers.

The stick finally worked, as did the claw gun, but there was no man of steel to challenge them. On the contrary, he was now in an unprecedented situation, and he was very familiar with the feeling of his body half suspended in the air. He basically developed the usage of the stick as well.

The only difference is that Clark can float up and hover in mid-air in any posture. As time goes by, his eyes can't help but become slack, and his non-stop thinking is caught in a light and floating way. Then lead to a place where he can not think about anything.

He tried to reach the actual thing with his toes, and the backs of his feet spasmed involuntarily from brain overload, and at the same time were so tense that it almost hurt him.

The sweat beads on the eyelashes invaded the fragile breasts due to the movement, he blinked hard, and felt a strange relief in the blurred vision.

**

Clark sat up on the bed.

He pursed his lips tightly. Beside him, Bruce hid half of his face in the quilt and fell into a nearly coma-like sleep.

Bruce was so tired that by the end of the day, just touching the pillow, he lost consciousness for a split second, and didn't care about the strangeness of his body or clean himself up.

Clark reached out and carefully rubbed his forehead hair that was hanging on the pillow with his fingers.

What the hell is this?

Before that, Bruce was his colleague, his friend, someone he could see as soon as he turned around and would never turn him away, but after this time, he began to be confused about the relationship between them. relation.

When Bruce was at his weakest, he was staring into those empty blue eyes and almost asked, but when Bruce stared at him like that, he swallowed the words back.

He could tell Bruce didn't want to say anything.

To put it another way, it should be that Bruce is so depressed that he doesn't want to delve into anything. He doesn't need a stable and warm relationship, he only needs stimulation and pain, and it's better to be a little more crazy-those various props can already prove that he The ordinary and straightforward way cannot meet the spiritual threshold he wants.

Clark felt an indescribably dull feeling in his heart.

He stared intently at the hanging picture in front of him, but he didn't have the slightest impression of what was drawn in that picture. When he was thinking, there was an extremely faint movement of his fingers.

He turned his face, Bruce didn't wake up, he closed his eyes tightly, but he could see the eyeballs moving under the thin eyelids, he thought for a while, let go of the super hearing, and went to record the heartbeat of the other party.

—Bruce suddenly opened his eyes.

Clark pulled the quilt that was put on Bruce in his direction, trying to maintain a calm tone: "You're awake."

"……Um."

Unlike other people, when they were on duty in the watchtower these days, many friends who had just woken up saw him with their pupils constricted suddenly, and they would unconsciously show a defensive posture.

And Bruce seemed to be troubled by nightmares, but he didn't feel the slightest mood swings because of the person who was exactly like Kar-El leaning against the bed.

Bruce stared at him blankly for a few seconds, then reached for the cup by the bed: "Why are you still here?"

Clark licked his lips.

He doesn't understand why this guy can act as if nothing happened, he just goes to sleep with Diana now and wakes up with an intimate kiss - no, he doesn't expect Bruce, it's just that at least he doesn't It should be like the men and women who have been lying on this big bed before, and were dismissed by the master casually.

It was even worse, how could Gotham sweetheart patiently coax his lover, otherwise his good reputation would be ruined, but when it was his turn, he didn't even have a nice word.

Bruce covered his head and closed his eyes.

When the satisfaction that fills the soul fades away, only countless irritability remains.

Why the hell is he sleeping with Superman?Sleeping is not the same for everyone, he went to the wardrobe of the Fortress of Solitude to search for a few sets of uniforms, there are capes of any color, and he can still get the same effect by going to the club to hook up with a few people.

But he had to admit that this result was brought about by him alone. It was a misunderstanding at first, but what happened after he clarified it was entirely his intention. He's given a choice between drinking alcohol and man of steel.

He moved his knee, feeling that the tendons in the crook of his leg were stretched so much that he would feel sore just by simply moving.

Obviously, Clark also gradually realized that something was wrong. He was just willing to choose to believe in others, rather than really having a bad brain. So he watched the eyebrows of the god on earth gradually twist into a look between I want to talk and be serious .

Bruce rolled his eyes inwardly.