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    Summary

    Bruce's thighs clamp down as Clark squeezes him, the fabric of their clothes shifting together as he doesn't let Clark move away for a single moment. Lifting Bruce by his hips, Clark pushes forward again as if he's fucking him.

    "Good puppy," Bruce groans, voice light and airy.

    They both freeze, almost immediately.

    The word seems to echo in the sudden silence, but Clark's mind is entirely blank.

    "I—apologize," Bruce says, breathless. "I lost myself for a moment."

    "Puppy?" Clark asks, light-headed.

    Heat has rushed through him, up and down, and he would have lost his footing if not for how Bruce has gathered himself in Clark's arms just to feel him as they dry humped. His mind keeps replaying it, over and over until the heat nearly burns. Puppy.

    He liked it. He liked it a lot.

    ---

    Or, Bruce Wayne is fifty-six compared to Clark's twenty years. It's an accident they met tonight. They fall into bed together, anyway, virgin!Clark all too happy to be lost under Bruce's spell.

    Especially if that means Bruce will train him to be his perfect little pet.

    Language:
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