#supercest

"I—I—" Match stammers past cracked, desperate sobs, clawing at the mattress a couple times as he tries to dig his knees into it enough to push back against him and then fists his hands in the sheets again on a harsher sob.

The useless prude's TTK is gripping him almost as tight as his hole is.

"Y'like it, right, baby bro?" Kon croons mockingly, making a point of stroking down the other's spine with his fingertips. Match's TTK—and hole—both clench, and Kon sniggers meanly at him. "Aw, I knew you'd like it. Feels good being a nice tight hole for big brother, yeah? Feels good not having to do anything but feel good?"

Match whines.

"Yeah, that's right," Kon says, and grins meanly again, fisting his hand tighter in his hair. "At least you're better at taking it than you are at giving it, though it'd be pretty fucking hard to find a way to be worse. I'm gonna enjoy gettin' to go all-out on your invulnerable ass."

"You—you—" Match stammers again, and Kon thrusts hard, and Match yelps.

"Don't bitch when I'm already being way fucking nicer than you earned, moonbeam," Kon retorts, patronizing and smug and dragging the other's head back to pull his face out of the mattress. "Doesn't matter if you can't keep up for shit like this, yeah? You can blow your load as early as you want, and big brother'll just fuck you 'til he's satisfied either way."

Then he actually thrusts hard—harder than any just-human hole could ever take—and Match actually fucking yelps, the total fucking lame-ass, and scrabbles senselessly at the sheets as he bucks up underneath him. Kon laughs at him again.

"Too much," Match gasps like he's not still trying to buck up under him, "too much too much too much, S-Superboy, fuck, it's TOO MUCH!"

"Oh my god, shut up, you're fine, you fucking moron," Kon snorts derisively, rolling his eyes again. "Just be a good hole and keep your TTK up for me. You'll just get sensitive, won't get sore. C'mon, baby boy, trust your big brother. You know I'm the one who actually knows what I'm doing here."

"I can't, I can't," Match begs, and Kon just thrusts faster. "I can't—can't CONCENTRATE, fuck, fuck, FUCK, you fucking—FUCK!"

Then, Clark grabbed your ass wth both hands. Hmm.

And you wrapped your legs around him and shared a deep, steamy kiss. Oh.

Bruce made plans to catch up with his old pal. As they ate dinner, Bruce got on the topic of how he’d really like to meet a woman he could relate to. Someone he could share his secret identity with. Someone who could understand the weight power. “You know, I always thought your cousin was pretty cool… what would you think if I asked her out?”

Clark's jaw clenched. He failed to blink for a few seconds. “My cousin, Supergirl?”

Bruce joked, “Do you have another smoking hot cousin I’m unaware of?”

Clark’s nostrils flared, and his heart raced. His biceps twitched with the need to smash something.

“I could take her for a ride sometime, see where things go. If you’re cool with it, of course.” Bruce squinted at him.

Clark became uncharacteristically mean and crude. “You think Supergirl wants to go for a ride in the Batmobile? Supergirl’s gonna drop her panties for a sports car?”

“Good point,” Bruce conceded. “Maybe not a ride, but I bet she’d like to drive it.”

“Not happening,” Clark snapped with a forehead vein rising under his loose curls. His intrusive thots were flooding back to him. It was too vivid, too real.

“Well, who else is better for her?” Bruce asked, then his eyes became wistful. “Man… she’d look so good in black…”

Clark’s eyes glowed red for a split second behind his glasses as his hand flew across the table to grab his friend by the throat.

Bruce raised his hands in surrender, suppressing a smirk.

Clark looked around and composed himself.

Bruce tugged at his collar. “Damn,” he leaned in and lowered his voice. “So it’s true.”

Clark acted like he didn't know what Bruce was talking about.

“Good for you,” Bruce looked him up and down, then dropped the subject for the night.

———-

One day soon, Bruce was trying to get Clark on board with a plan to blow up some criminals, and Clark wasn’t having it. “It’s about right and wrong,” the man of steel insisted.

“Just when I thought you’d grown up,” Bruce ranted. “Right and wrong, right and wrong. . . You ever think about right and wrong during sex?”

“What?” Clark squints. “What the heck are you talking about?"

“Ever think about right and wrong when you’re balls deep in your little cousin?” Bruce taunted.

Clark’s eyes doubled in size, and he pointed an indignant finger at his friend as the words flew out of his mouth: "You know darn well she's older than me!" Catching himself, he tried to recover, "And, and I dunno what you're talking about. . .but it sounds like whatever you're getting at would be something between consenting adults. . ."

Ty for the ask! <33333