Chapter Text
This was a mistake.
“Please, sweetheart, you can give me another,” Clark murmurs into Bruce’s skin as he gets right back to pounding into Bruce as if he hadn't just come inside him for the tenth time tonight. At this point, Bruce is so full in every way that he won't need to feed for a solid week. His brain feels like it's been liquified, so he isn't sure if he hit the jackpot, or if he's going to be the first succubus in history stupid enough to gorge themselves to death. What a way it would be to go, though.
Bruce should’ve figured something was up when Clark was more well-endowed than most of the humans he’d seen until now, but he was so proud that he’d found such a pretty young thing for his first feeding without Selina’s help that he hadn't thought too hard about it. Clark was all wide eyes and nervous smiles when Bruce slipped out of the shadows at the club, sliding silently up against him to catch him on the hook under the pretense of reaching for a drink. It only took a few minutes of quiet conversation before Clark was putting away his little notebook and leading Bruce back to his hotel room. His hand kept brushing against Bruce's own as if he wanted to hold it, and there was a lovely blush coloring his bronze skin even before Bruce leaned over to kiss him in the elevator. He was cute enough that Bruce had decided then and there that he'd let the poor thing live, if only so he could experience more of the world. That’s how Selina taught him how to hunt: let the nice ones survive and drain the mean ones dry. Bruce might be a little more softhearted than she is; he hasn’t actually ever sucked all the energy out of a human before, and now he'll probably get fucked into a coma before he ever can.
It was supposed to be an easy feeding. Bruce would ride this innocent farmboy for a few rounds and leave him enough energy to crawl out of bed in a few days. Maybe visit him again in a couple of months if he tasted as delicious as he looked. Those plans fell apart almost immediately after their clothes came off.
The second red flag should've been when Clark was able to carry him without breaking a sweat. Bruce isn't small by any means, and Clark had lifted him right off the ground without issue, holding him steady in the air even as their kisses grew more desperate. It's not like he's never had standing sex before, but Clark held Bruce suspended in the air with such ease as he bounced him on his dick that Bruce forgot for a second that his wings were retracted and that he was not, in fact, flying.
By the time they were actually flying, Bruce had given up on rational thought completely, settling for wrapping his arms around Clark's neck and holding on for dear life as he surged with more energy than he ever had before. Selina always told him that getting mixed up with other non-humans was a bad idea, and he found himself in agreement. There was no way he could return to feeding off humans after this.
"Bruce, are you with me?" Clark asks sweetly now, brushing Bruce's hair away from his sweaty forehead. "You can go again, can't you?" He's still as bright and energetic as he was three hours ago. Bruce, meanwhile, is a total mess. Sometime after his fifth orgasm, his control had lapsed enough that the tail came poking back out, much to Clark's delight. He'd been bizarrely unconcerned with the fact that he was fucking a demon, which in retrospect makes a lot of sense given that he can fly. At least Bruce's wings are still tucked away, though to be honest, smacking Clark in the face with them might have saved him from his current fate, which is lying here with his face pressed into the mattress, so fucked out and stuffed so full that he can hardly talk, his tail coiled tight around Clark's wrist as he continues to clench helplessly around the cock coring him open. His ass and thighs are coated with Clark's release because he's come inside Bruce so many times that it's begun to drip back out before he can absorb it all.
Selina will never let him live this down.
"Mmnh," is all Bruce can mumble into the sheets alongside a weak nod before Clark turns him onto his back. He obediently lets Clark bend him in half at the waist, legs spreading wide so that Clark can press into him again. He almost suspects that his body has been molded to fit Clark's shape because they slot back together so well. Bruce reaches up to drag Clark down to kiss him because it’s easier than using his words. This might also be an error in judgment, since neither of them have to breathe; it's easy to melt even further together. He doesn’t know anymore who’s devouring who.
Clark slides a hand down to tease Bruce's over-sensitized dick, and Bruce cants his hips up into his touch, willing himself to last through one more orgasm so he can slowly fly back to his cave before falling asleep here. He can make it. He can take in a little more. Clark has to have a limit, too.
Bruce does not successfully make it back to the cave.
When he does finally wake up, it's to the sight of sunlight streaming in through the hotel's poorly shaded windows. With a stretch, he releases his wings and smooths out his twisted tail.
By now, he's finally absorbed everything Clark's given him, and he feels honestly phenomenal. He feels so invigorated that he's a little afraid that he managed to kill Clark after all, but when he leans in to examine him, he hears a soft snuffle of breath. Oxygen that Clark doesn't need, Bruce thinks sourly, remembering how they kissed for literally nine minutes straight without separating at one point. Clark looks cute and innocent again now that he isn't wrecking Bruce, radiating the out-of-his-depth sweetness of a country boy in the big city.
"False advertising," Bruce mutters to himself as he taps the cupid's bow of Clark's pretty mouth. This is a wolf in sheep's clothing through and through.
This point of contact is enough to wake Clark, and he sits up in a rush, almost colliding their heads together. Bruce scooches down the bed, suddenly feeling oddly self-conscious. He tries to look anywhere but directly at Clark, who's staring at him like he isn't sure that he's real.
"Bruce," he says, his smile as warm as all the energy thrumming inside Bruce's core. "You're still here."
"You didn't exactly make it easy to leave," Bruce mumbles, thinking about the way Clark's arm was draped comfortably around his waist. He ignores the fact that his tail apparently remained looped around Clark's wrist the entire time they were sleeping.
Clark flushes in embarrassment, and he puts on his glasses in a hurry, moving so that he's no longer blocking Bruce's path. "Sorry! I didn't mean to trap you here-"
"No, it's- I just woke up." He flutters his wings awkwardly, and Clark's attention is drawn to them instantly.
"Wow, you didn't show me those yesterday." He reaches out a hand, and then hesitates, asking, "May I?"
Bruce has never let anyone besides Selina or Alfred touch his wings before, but he's already crossed all sorts of boundaries with Clark so he makes the impulsive decision to nod, extending his wings so Clark can touch. Despite the ease with which he could've tossed Bruce around yesterday, his movements never edged past firm into rough, and his hand remains careful as he brushes his fingertips along the membrane near the upper ridge of Bruce's left wing.
His touch feathers against Bruce's nerve endings and Bruce shivers in surprised pleasure, a soft sound escaping his lips. It causes them both to freeze. Clark clears his throat and withdraws his hand. They both look away as Bruce tucks his wings against his back and they pretend Clark's cock didn't just twitch in interest.
"So I definitely didn't imagine the tail and everything."
"I'm a succubus," Bruce explains. "You were my..."
"Target?" Clark says with a crooked smile.
"I wasn't going to kill you. I don't like hurting humans." Or whatever it is that Clark is.
"I figured as much when you tried to let me off the hook so early. Sorry if I was, uh. Overenthusiastic."
Bruce shakes his head, resting a hand over his abdomen. "I've never fed so well. You must not be human either," he comments, flicking his tail as he scans Clark. "You're not undead though. Or magic. Or a demon."
"No, um, none of those." Clark chews on his lip for a second before he decides that they must be in more or less the same boat, identity-wise. "I'm actually an alien?" He floats a few inches off the bed, as if he hadn't thoroughly demonstrated that ability to Bruce last night, and lets out a soft stream of breath that crystallizes into ice in midair.
"Superman," Bruce realizes, his eyes going wide. "From Metropolis. You help people." He and Selina had both been suspicious when they first heard about these so-called heroes, as it isn't wise for people like them to reveal themselves in daylight. But Superman hadn't gone crawling back into the shadows, hadn't proved himself to be anything but the larger than life hero that people believed him to be. And now it turns out that he's been this doe-eyed, plaid-wrapped reporter all this time.
"I try," Clark says, ducking his head shyly as he gets off the bed, and Bruce feels strangely endeared to the sight. "So, the infamous Bruce Wayne is a succubus. That wasn't on my bingo card."
"You recognize me?"
Clark laughs like sunlight dappling still waters. "You've got a pretty famous face, Bruce. But don't worry, I'll keep your secret if you keep mine."
"Thank you."
The chime of a text tone causes them both to glance at the floor where they threw their clothes yesterday, and Clark cringes. "That's probably my coworker wondering why I ditched her last night."
"I should be going anyway," Bruce says, hiding away his inhuman appendages, and they spend the next few minutes getting dressed in silence while trying to keep their eyes off each other.
Once dressed, Clark walks Bruce to the hotel room door, but he pauses with his fingers on the handle.
"I'd really like to see you again," he says, and Bruce has to avert his gaze to resist the stupid urge to smile.
"I shouldn't feed from you so soon. Alien or not, it might still kill you."
"No, I didn't mean for sex. Um. Not that I would turn that down. I meant, like, a date. Coffee. Dinner and a movie. Something where we stay clothed and vertical, at least initially." His words come out in a rush, and Bruce is reminded of why he picked Clark up in the first place.
"...I can do coffee. I'll call you."
"Yeah? Great, that's- I'll look forward to it." Clark's expression is so openly pleased that Bruce has to leave him with a soft kiss before he steps out the door.
One last taste before they meet again.