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Clark hated having to interview Bruce Wayne. It didn’t happen often, Bruce was never in the office enough to have frequent interviews and most of the time his PR department would give an official statement on whatever it was that put Wayne Enterprises in the news. Occasionally, Bruce Wayne would request “that cute reporter Kant” to give a statement to. Most of the time it was for an alibi. Sometimes it was to troll Clark. Bruce wouldn’t put it that way, but Clark could tell he definitely got his kicks frustrating Clark. Clark loved the man, but his sense of humor was sometimes beyond Clark.
Clark got the feeling that it was a troll when he was called in to interview Bruce Wayne over recent Wayne Foundation actions. He put on his worst suit and made his way to Wayne Enterprises. He had a notepad and a recorder in case Bruce wanted the interview to be recorded.
He was let in by a secretary and Bruce stood from his chair to shake Clark’s hand. If it wasn’t obvious by Brucie’s loose posture, it was obvious by his weak handshake that this was Bruce Wayne™ right now and not Bruce.
Goddamn it.
“Mr. Kant, it’s nice to see you again!”
Clark sighed. “It’s Kent, Mr. Wayne. And you know, we have other reporters from the Planet. You don’t have to ask for me every time.”
“I’m sure none of them are as handsome as you,” Wayne said with a leer.
Clark fiddled with his glasses and looked down, as though embarrassed. If Bruce wanted to play act, Clark could too.
“That’s…kind of you Mr. Wayne.”
“Call me Brucie!”
Clark ignored him.
He sat down, prompting Wayne to sit down too. He put his recorder on the glass table between them and asked,
“Is it okay if I record this interview?”
Wayne waved his hand. “Sure.”
Clark clicked record.
“So, Mr. Wayne, the Wayne Foundation has come under fire lately.”
“It has?”
Clark grit his teeth. He was glad Bruce didn’t have super hearing.
“Yes, people are upset about the clinics being built in the Narrows.”
“Oh, that,” Wayne said with a dismissive hand. “I don’t know what people are complaining about.”
“People are upset because, among other services, they provide abortion access.”
Wayne stared at him blankly. “So?”
“Abortion is a point of contention for a lot of people, Mr. Wayne. Governor Warren campaigned against it in his reelection campaign.”
“Oh, I try to stay out of politics.”
Clark was going to kill this man when he got home.
“You must understand that people are making it into a political topic.”
Wayne shrugged.
“I can’t control what people think about that. People are always trying to put a spin on things. That’s why I stay out of politics.”
“Mr. Wayne, there have been people threatening other people involved in the creation of these clinics, including yourself.”
There was a flash of anger behind Wayne’s typical blase expression. Clark shouldn't have been surprised that this struck a nerve.
“They are medical clinics, they provide medical services. If anyone has a problem with that, they should come directly to me.”
“Is that your official statement?” Clark asked. Wayne blinked like he hadn’t expected to get so impassioned about it.
“Yeah, sure,” he said with a shrug as though trying to recover his devil-may-care attitude.
“Anything else you want on the record, Mr. Wayne?”
“Just that you could be a model if you got rid of those hideous clothes and glasses.”
“Mr. Wayne!”
Wayne observed him, almost with Batman’s intensity.
“I’m serious. I didn’t know they bred boys like you in Metropolis.”
Clark blushed, even though he knew what Bruce was doing.
“I’m from Kansas, actually. A tiny town called Smallville.”
Wayne nodded, as though to himself and said, “That makes sense. Pure, Kansan beef. Bet they fed you a lot of milk and corn growing up.”
“Among other things…”
“Well, whatever they fed you, it worked.”
Clark tilted his head. “Uh, thanks?”
Wayne leaned back in his chair.
“You know, my seat has become uncomfortable.”
Clark had a feeling where this was going, but he played along. He stopped the recording just in case.
“Really?”
“Yeah, I was hoping your face could replace it.”
A flush of arousal, and anger, went through Clark. He was tired of this game. Clark stood and walked around Bruce’s table. Wayne tilted his head in confusion and asked,
“Yes?”
“Get up,” Clark demanded. Clark could immediately see the effect his command had on Bruce, the way his pupils widened and his eyes darted from Clark’s face to his crotch and back quick enough that nobody but Clark would’ve been able to catch it.
“I’m sorry?” Wayne asked, still not breaking character. Clark would make him break it, in time.
“I said get up. You wanted to ride my face, didn’t you?”
Wayne laughed nervously. “I was joking.”
Clark didn’t yield. “I’m not. Get up.”
Wayne hesitated before he stood. Clark stood behind him, bumping the chair against the giant window behind the desk. Clark immediately reached around Wayne and undid his belt buckle and then the clasp and zipper on his trousers. Clark heard him swallow.
“You sure are forward for a reporter,” Wayne noted.
Clark paused.
“Are you saying ‘no’?” He asked to give Bruce an out if he wanted one. Wayne swallowed again.
“No, no I’m not.”
Clark shucked down Bruce’s underwear and pants. “Bend over the table.”
Clark could hear Bruce’s blood rush south as he did what he was told. Clark immediately got to his knees behind Bruce and gave Bruce’s cheeks a healthy squeeze. Bruce sharply inhaled and that wouldn’t do at all, so Clark rubbed his thumb against Bruce’s hole drawing out a more audible gasp.
“Cl–Mr. Kent,” he started and Clark knew he had almost gotten Bruce to break character. He held open Bruce’s cheeks before diving in and licking Bruce’s hole. Bruce’s whole body jolted. Clark lapped at him like he was something to be savored. He sucked around the rim before pushing his tongue inside and Bruce put his forehead against the cool glass table and groaned,
“ Fuck, Clark.”
Clark smiled to himself. It felt like victory.
He kept eating into Bruce, drool dribbling down his chin, while Bruce tried to push his ass against Clark’s face, but Clark held him still. He ate Bruce out diligently and it was only when Clark was too hard to ignore that he stopped. He stood, saw Bruce against the table, dick hard underneath him, smearing precum across the glass.
Clark got a bottle of lube out a drawer in Bruce’s desk (this was far from the first time they had fucked in his office, but it was the first time with this weird foreplay first). He poured some on his fingers and immediately pressed two fingers in Bruce, who spread his legs with a breathy moan. Bruce took the fingers easily and Clark pushed in another finger, stretching the other, making sure he wouldn’t hurt Bruce. His fingers brushed against Bruce’s prostate and Bruce arched his back with another moan.
“Fuck me, Clark,” Bruce demanded like hadn’t been moaning for it a second earlier. Clark ignored him and continued to finger Bruce. His fingers were knuckle deep, but Bruce kept trying to push his ass back, clearly frustrated.
“You’re impatient,” Clark noted.
Bruce growled, “Of course I’m impatient, I’ve wanted you to fuck me since you came in with that ugly suit.”
“You could’ve just asked,” Clark said as he pulled out his fingers. Bruce pushed his ass back, clearly chasing the stimulation even if it wasn’t what he wanted at the moment.
“Where was the fun in thaaat,” Bruce said the last part as a moan as Clark pushed in. Clark gave his ass a brief slap.
“You’re a brat.”
Clark started thrusting hard, pulling a deep fucked out groan from Bruce. Bruce banged his fist against the table as he clearly tried to stay in the present but Clark knew how much Bruce loved a dick in him and it was a losing battle. Bruce started panting and made these bitten off groans as he tried to keep quiet and that wouldn’t do at all.
Clark started vibrating his cock and Bruce yelled, surprised. It was short-lived however because a moment later, the phone started ringing.
Clark slowed to a stop.
“Go on, answer it.”
Bruce answered the phone: “Wayne speaking. Oh, Lucius, hi. What can I do for you?”
Clark started fucking again, slowly, and Bruce twisted around to glare at Clark. He flipped Clark off and returned to his call.
“Yes, I got that email. Tell Cara to go ahead with the contract and–” Bruce broke off in a gasp and nearly dropped the phone when Clark started grinding against Bruce’s prostate.
“Yes, yes, I’m alright just…a little under the weather.”
Bruce tried his best to breathe through his nose to avoid making any more noises.
“Go ahead and give my approval to the board I’m sure–” Bruce covered his mouth to prevent his moan when Clark sped up. Some of it escaped, making Clark feel smug.
“No, yeah, I’m just….busy,” Bruce tried to say but he was panting the whole time.
“You can call back later, yeah,” Bruce managed before he hung up the phone and shouted, “Fuck!”
Bruce looked behind him, teeming with anger and said, “Fuck you, Kent.”
Clark was entirely unfazed and started vibrating again, immediately wiping the anger off of Bruce’s face as his expression morphed into pure ecstasy. Clark started up a good rhythm again until he was slamming into Bruce and Bruce laid his face against the desk as he was pounded over and over and over again. He let out a continuous wail as he got his soul fucked out of him.
Bruce came first, untouched, his dick spurting out his cum out on the desk. The orgasm made Bruce tighten around Clark and Clark tried not to hit Bruce’s prostate too directly after that but he did note that whenever he did, Bruce twitched and tightened around him in a way that was delicious.
Clark chased his own pleasure. It took much longer than Bruce, enough that Clark was worried he was hurting the other but Bruce still looked blissed out, moaning against the desk. Eventually Bruce’s tightness and heat was enough and it pushed Clark over the edge. He came a lot, as he always did, and his cum dripped out of Bruce as he pulled out.
Seemingly with great effort, Bruce stood. His face was red where it had been pressed against the glass. His pupils were still blown out and Clark noted with surprise that Bruce was half-hard. Clark pushed his fingers back into Bruce and Bruce groaned and spasmed. He let out a gasp when Clark vibrated his fingers against that spot. He didn’t know how Bruce hadn’t gotten too sore, but he bent back over the desk, on his elbows. His brows were pinched like he was concentrating on something and Clark watched as his cock fattened up, making Clark more aroused. Clark got an idea and pulled out his fingers, drawing a disappointed noise from Bruce.
Clark stroked himself a few times, it didn’t take much it seemed, until he was fully hard again and he sat down on Bruce’s “uncomfortable” office chair.
“Ride me,” Clark said, patting his lap. Clark noticed that Bruce’s shirt was smeared with his cum and wondered how he was going to hide it. But that was a later problem.
Bruce eyed Clark with obvious hunger, and turned back around as he slowly lowered himself on Clark’s cock as Clark held his dick still. Being inside Bruce felt like coming home.
Bruce used the armrests of the chair as leverage to pull himself up and slam down. It was slower than the brutal pace Clark had set, but it was clearly doing something for Bruce. His dick jerked with each bounce on Clark’s cock and when Clark wrapped his hand around Bruce’s dick, Bruce let out a loud moan, faltering in his rhythm.
“Fuuuck,” Bruce groaned as he continued to bounce. It was only a little surprising that he came all over Clark’s hand a few minutes later. Exhausted, Bruce slowed down, but Clark was still hungry for it and held Bruce’s hips still as he pounded up into the other, drawing another wail.
Clark once again chased his pleasure. He slammed into Bruce, feeling the heat grow from his cock to his brain and then suddenly he was coming again. He held Bruce against him as he came, filling Bruce with his cum again before he pulled out.
Bruce looked like he was still coming back to reality and automatically licked Clark’s cum covered hand when it was pressed against his lips.
“Fuck, Bruce,” Clark muttered. Bruce blinked at him before his brain came back online and he pulled up his underwear and trousers. When he was done he looked at Clark and asked,
“Are you still annoyed at me?”
Clark ran his hand through his hair. He sighed. “No, I guess not. You?”
“I’m a little annoyed that Lucius now knows I fuck in my office, but I guess I’ll live.”
Clark smiled and stood, zipping his pants. He kissed Bruce’s forehead and said,
“Next time you want to fuck in here, just ask.”
Bruce smirked. “But watching you want to throttle Brucie is so much fun.”
“Bruce.” Clark warned.
“Alright, but if we run into each other at a public venue I will not be held accountable for what Brucie does.”
Clark sighed. He supposed that was all he was going to get.
He grabbed his recording device and put it in his pocket. He said, “I assume that everything you said today is off the record.”
“Yes, my publicist would kill me.”
Clark wanted to be annoyed that his time had been wasted but he did get a good fuck out of it, so maybe the interview wasn’t so bad after all.