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The HURT ME Meme
For kinks of pain: physical and emotional.

WARNING: Prompts will contain sexual and violent content and triggers. Click with caution!

THE PHYSICAL:
1 - Slapping. Bare-handed: including spanking, face-slapping.
2 - Flogging. With a leather flog, as soft or hard as you want.
3 - Breathplay. Cut off their oxygen.
4 - Beating (soft). Leaving bruises and marks.
5 - Waxplay. Feels like a burn, but isn't.
6 - Biting. Use your teeth.
7 - Gunplay. It might be the hurt, or the threat of it.
8 - Bloodplay (soft). Just a few cuts…
9 - Sexual exhaustion. Forcing them just a little too far, until it hurts more than it feels good.
10 - Suspension. Bind them so they can't (or can only barely) touch the ground, and wait for it to do its trick.
11 - Dubious consent. Don't know if they want it or not.
12 - OTHER.

THE EMOTIONAL:
1 - Loss. You've taken away something they care about deeply, perhaps destroyed it - or killed someone close to them.
2 - Rejection. All they want is you. Best to crush their feelings into the dust.
3 - Humiliation. Take away their pride.
4 - Punishment. They've done wrong. Time to let them know exactly how.
5 - Revenge. They've hurt you personally, and you want to hurt them back.
6 - Deception. Use the truth, or a lie, to make them hurt.
7 - OTHER.

THE HEAVY:
1 - Beating (hard). Draw blood, leave scars.
2 - Whipping. As hard as you want.
3 - Choking. The hard side of breathplay.
4 - Burning/Branding. Leave your marks.
5 - Fisting. The whole hand.
6 - Oversize Penetration. Double, triple, or just larger than they can take.
7 - Mutilation.
8 - Amputation.
9 - Vore.
10 - Guro.
11 - Non-con. They don't want it, but you'll force the issue.
12 - OTHER.

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[ Metal detectors. Right. Bruce would carry on with the thought process of lead, but Clark just has to mention Kryptonite, and he shakes his head immediately. ]

No. [ The word comes out sharp and cutting, and his eyes are flint-blue and narrowed. ] That will always hurt you, and I have my limits.

[ A pause, and he lets his mind run over the possible options again. ]

Maybe I can synthesise a form of Kryptonite that won't give you pain, but will permanently halt both your invulnerability and your healing. [ He makes a thoughtful sound. ] Then it'll be at a place where you don't get hit often.

[ Which means that... His fingers splay at the chest, then move downwards, past the broad, muscle side to a hip. ]

[Clark can’t help a twitch of his lips. One hand reaches for Bruce’s fingers on his hip, caressing them to tell him he approves of the new hypothetical place for the tattoo. He can do hips, even if it feels a little weird- he’d draw the line at having it on his lower back. Among other things, because he wants to be able to see it.

He uses his other hand to gently hold Bruce down, making sure he doesn’t move as he keeps on kissing lower and lower- letting his teeth grace a nipple before he speaks.]

Maybe I want it to hurt. [He doesn’t meet Bruce’s eyes as he speaks. He doesn’t dare, not with what he’s saying- it’s ridiculous that he feels so shy about it, isn’t it?] Maybe I want you to have that kind of power over me. To be the only one that has.

Maybe I want to get hard as I think of the pain every time I see it.

[ Clark's hand is as warm as it usually is: a burst of sun right against his skin. And Bruce finds himself closing his eyes, sighing out a breath as he tangles their fingers together, thumb scraping over the spot on the hip where those words would - hypothetically still - go.

But he shakes his head at those words. ]

If it's green kryptonite, you won't have to think of the pain. It will always be there. [ A little flatly, sure, but Clark knows him well enough to hear the note of concern in his voice. ]

Making you hurt constantly isn't the kind of power I want.

[ Clark is one of few truly good things in his life, untouched by the darkness of Batman and the pain that surrounds Bruce's life despite how they met. Bruce doesn't want to ruin that. ]

[Clark hums as he looks up, letting his head rest on Bruce’s chest. Bruce’s answers always say so much more than what he’s actually saying… like the undercurrent thread of worry on Bruce, and the implication that there is some sort of power that he wants to have over Superman. He’s not in the slightest surprised.

Bruce is very skilled at saying more than he means to with very few words, and Clark has become skilled at understanding it out of necessity. And if he’s honest even though it can get really frustrating it’s also really stimulating. He wouldn’t be who he is if it weren’t for Bruce making him push himself near the point of breaking.]

I don’t like modifying Kryptonite. You never know what could happen. [Plus who's the person who spends the most investigating the Kryptonite? Don't be Lex, B.]

[ Bruce knows immediately who Clark is thinking about; who Clark is comparing him to, and he scowls instinctively. His immediate reaction is to pull away, but he tampers it and sighs instead. ]

I'm trying to modify it so that it won't hurt you. [ Matter-of-fact, despite the lightly-clenched teeth. ] If I can find some way to neutralise Kryptonite in the middle of the battle, it will help you.

[ And that's the last thing Luthor would want to do, he wants to continue, but he bites back the words because he shouldn't have to tell Clark that.

The thing is, he knows perfectly the similarities between him and Luthor: both lonely rich boy geniuses, isolated since their youths. But Bruce did it out of his own choices, leaving school and home at the age of twelve to travel the world to learn. Bruce isn't good with dealing with people, but he knows how to toy with their strings while all Luthor knows to do is to cut or to shove money down throats.

But Bruce will never want to hurt Clark, while Luthor wants to do nothing but. ]

I know, B. [The look on Bruce’s face is so transparent it makes Clark want to chuckle.

Yes, there are a lot of comparisons to be drawn. More than Bruce himself realizes, Clark’s pretty sure. He never talks about it but his friendship with Bruce, before they started sharing bed, reminded him a lot of his friendship with Luthor when he was young and Smallville was his entire world. A boy with green eyes and red hair asked him if he was smart or had weak genes, a boy with an insufferable smirk tried to test his knowledge in astronomy and was surprised that Clark knew just as much as he did.

He would try to put it into words, write it down because he’s always been better with a pen than he’s with his mouth… but it’d be kind of useless and only make Bruce mad.]

But Kryptonite reacts… weirdly to some things. Remember the one that reacted badly to magic, the Silver one? I bet no one was trying to make something to actively hurt me, and yet it kind of happened.

I trust you with Green K. I don’t trust anyone else but you with it, actually. [He’s the one that had the ring. There’s never been anyone else he’s willingly given K to.] I’m just saying keep in mind it’s an alien rock that has gone through pretty weird stuff. So be careful.

[ Bruce knows that Clark has made comparisons. It's hard not to, really. But with things between them, it's left unspoken. It's one of the things Bruce would prefer to keep unspoken, if only so he doesn't lose his temper with Clark and get into an argument with him.

They have those on a regular basis already. There's no need for more ammunition.

He turns his attention to Kryptonite instead; to Clark's words. And he shakes his head, a little wry as he lifts an eyebrow. ]

You might be the one from the science planet, Clark, but I'm a scientist too. [ Just reminding you, oy. ] I'm not going to let any of my experiments near you until I'm sure about their effects.

[ He has plenty of samples of Kryptonian cells. Not just from Clark, but from Kara as well. And if he ever runs out, well, he has plenty of chances to harvest more whenever they have sex.

Not that he would ever say that out loud. Clark would yelp, and turn red - and not just in embarrassment either.

So he thumps Clark lightly on the shoulder instead, and softens the blow with a brush of their lips together. ]

Trust me.

[Clark laughs, shaking his head.]

Believe me: I don’t think I’ll ever need a reminder for that. [Bruce is one of the few people person he trusts more than himself when it comes to science. And specifically Kryptonite- he’s always too emotionally invested to be unbiased when it comes to that glowing rock, his first instinct is always to shatter it or toss it into the sun. He’s never had problems dealing with being vulnerable, he’s lost his powers before and he happily accepted it. But for some reason Kryptonite rubs him the wrong way.

He bites his hip, because it’s there and because he still hadn’t tasted it. Again he stops short from making him bleed, and again he’s tempted to bite just enough to let a drop of blood trail down. He kisses and licks the bite better instead.]

And you know I trust you. But I also know that if something goes wrong and I end up… I don’t know, suddenly a baby or turned into a woman or like a Bizzaro it’ll totally be saying ‘I told you so’.

[ The bite on his hip makes him jerk, and he hisses out a sharp breath through his teeth. His heart is at his throat, and he's tensing up slightly in preparation for a stronger bite, for a mark on his skin that - while not in Clark's symbol or those words promised - will prove Clark's ownership of his body. Of him.

So when Clark licks him instead, Bruce's eyes flicker down, his hand burying in night-dark strands and tugging slightly on them. ]

Don't tease. [ Demanding. Because when isn't he?

And he rolls his eyes at those words. ]

I think you're mixing up your two weaknesses, Clark. [ Dryly. ] It's magic that causes those spontaneous transformations. Not Kryptonite.

[Clark doesn’t even bother looking up, but he’s pretty sure Bruce can feel his smirk against his skin. Which is just as well since he had no plans of hiding it.]

I remind you… [He mutters against him, never parting his lip from Bruce’s body as his lips travel from one side of his hip to the other. He leaves a trail of kisses behind- because he not-so-secretlylikes it when Bruce is a busybody, but he loves denying him even more.] that Black Kryptonite turned Kara into two versions of herself. You should really expect the unexpected when it comes to that damn rock. It comes from Krypton, after all and my planet was full of unpredictable people.

And that includes me. [And so he bites his hip.]

[ Bruce snorts under his breath. ]

No, I think the unpredictable people are not from your planet as a whole, but from your House. [ Archly, just teasing- and he would say more, he really would, but Clark is biting down again. This time, Bruce can feel those ridiculously strong teeth sink past his skin, tearing through him like he is paper, and his breath shakes in his throat even as his hand grips tighter into Clark's hair. ]

Fuck. [ A sharp, low hiss. ] Jesus Christ, Clark.

[ The hand in Clark's hair is moving down to grip his chin. ]

If you're going to keep doing that, you better be up for another round.

[He doesn’t stop this time, he doesn’t give in to the fear of actually hurting someone that years of habit have ingrained into him. He keeps on biting, keeps on digging his teeth into the flesh until he tastes blood. That metallic flavor has never tasted sweeter and Clark is afraid he’ll be developing a weird kink out of this. Then he realizes they were talking tattoos and ownership just a few moments ago and laughs, because it’s a bit too late for that isn’t it?]

As a wise man once told me… [He lets his tongue travel down Bruce’s thigh, as if promising more to come with his tongue in the sensitive flesh. Then he looks up at him, raising an eyebrow.]

Don’t tease.

Edited 2015-01-26 12:08 (UTC)

[ Bruce's hand telegraphs all he feels: clenching tight into Clark's hair then releasing, shifting down, thumb pressing hard against the hollow of the throat before skittering-spidering away to his shoulder. Nails dig into invulnerable skin as he swallows back a gasp, his heart thundering in his chest, and his hand goes right back to Clark's throat again as his hips jerk upwards.

He knows that Clark doesn't need to breathe. Knows that, for Clark, breathing is a leisure, a privilege, that he doesn't make use of often. And Bruce takes advantage of that like he does all knowledge, his fingers forming into a fist, bones digging into Clark's throat, feeling the beat of the carotid artery right beneath his fingers.

When Clark looks up at him, Bruce's jaw is aching and his chest is shuddering. His hand shifts again, moving just slightly upwards until his thumb brushes over Clark's lip. ]

I'm not. [ His voice is steady. And Bruce smiles, all teeth, before he swings a leg over Clark's shoulder and rocks his hips up. ]

Come on then. Fuck me again.

[Clark lets out a moan, and he isn’t sure if it’s at Bruce’s words, at the movement of his hips or at the hand around his neck. Does it matter? He’s way past half hard at this point, has been for a while so he’s honestly glad Bruce is the one to push it. His sexuality has proven a pretty weird thing: it’s pretty hard to get him… well.

Hard. But once he gets there he has enough stamina to last all night, easily. He would feel self-conscious about both things if Bruce wasn’t so good at getting him ‘in the mood’ and taking care of him later. (Would he laugh if he knew he called it that in his head? He wonders.)]

Hmm. [He shifts, giving Bruce a last nibble and licking the drops of blood once more before reaching to kiss him instead. Lips parted, it’s a messy kiss and he puts enough strength behind it to force Bruce against the wall behind the bed as his hand reaches for his dick in a gentle tug.]

Say please. [If teasing were an Olympic sport Clark would take home the gold.]

[ Bruce knows enough about Kryptonian physiology to understand just how much it takes for Clark to be aroused, much less for him to still be after fucking Bruce into the mattress for the entire night. And it's more than enough for Bruce to feel a smug thrill - because only he is capable of doing this to Clark. No one else.

And like hell is he willing to let anyone else try. Batman is a selfish, possessive creature over what he loves. And though Bruce will never say it out loud in those words, he has shown Clark through his actions that he does.

Fingers dig into Clark's hair as he's forced against the wall, his lips parting as he gasps. Low, deep, wrenching out from his throat, and he swings his leg over Clark's hip and rocks up even harder, something nearly vicious in the way he moves.

At the same time, his other hand tightens even more around Clark's throat. ]

You'll have to do better than that to get me to beg.

[Kal does need oxygen, eventually. His cells are just more efficient at carrying it, which mean he won’t need to take a deep breath for… hours, probably. More if he’s careful with the air he already has in his lungs. Bruce knows that, Bruce probably has statistics in the computer about how long Superman can survive without taking a breath and the capacity of his lungs… and yet he keeps on tightening his fingers around his neck. Pushing it, as if playing a game.

It makes Clark groan with pleasure. When he speaks, there’s an edge of breathlessness in it.]

Hmm. I’ve always loved a challenge… [So he uses an arm to pin Bruce to the wall, pressing it hard against his chest as other hand finds his balls. Bruce can still reach his neck, but he can’t reach him with his hips anymore.]

And I happen to be very, very patient. I can wait to have you around me, tightening and begging for more. I just wonder… [He presses his balls, hard.] if your cock will be able to wait.

[ Oh, Bruce knows that holding his hand against Clark's throat like that is a fruitless endeavour. Knows it full well, but does it anyway because Clark is letting him. Because he can feel Clark's pulse so near like this; can feel it picking up and beating so hard and fast that it resembles war drums.

He doesn't let go even as he is pinned against the wall. His lips stretches even wider into a grin, and he swings a leg over Clark's waist, thrusting forward, sliding his cock against Clark's thigh even as those inhumanly strong fingers strokes over his balls.

A shattered groan escapes him, and he breathes out through his teeth, still grinning full of teeth. He leans in and makes use of them, nipping and biting at Clark's lips, tongue diving into his mouth and taking the warmth inside with the same intensity that he's waiting for Clark to take his body. ]

Don't underestimate my stamina. [ A long, low drawl. If Clark wants to tease him, if Clark wants to fuck him for hours at end until the sun comes up and rises high up in the skies, Bruce will let him. And he knows he'll start begging sooner or later, but it's all down to how long he can stave off the urge.

Pulling back slightly, he runs his teeth over Clark's jaw. ]

So come on now, Superman. Come do what you promised.

[Clark laughs, but he’s pretty sure Bruce will be able to tell he’s only laughing to keep himself from moaning. He was literally fucking Bruce not even an hour ago. He’s pretty sure the Gothamite might still have the mark of his nails on his back, he’d come that hard. And now he’s breathless once again, and the only thing keeping him from grabbing Bruce and fucking him raw is that sometimes the teasing is almost as pleasurable. Almost.

He swallows. It hurts, because Bruce is pressing his hand just hard enough to make it uncomfortable for him. It only makes his own cock harder. Only he can get him like this, only Bruce. He really does belong to his Dark Night.]

Is that an order, Mr Wayne? [He tilts his head, catching Bruce’s lips with his own. but he doesn’t kiss him, just presses their foreheads together and caresses Bruce’s nose with his own. They are so close that when he speaks their lips touch. The last breath left in his lungs, and he uses it to taunt the man.] because you know I don’t take well to being ordered around.

[But his actions do not match with his words. He stops pushing the man against the wall and instead lets that hand travel down his back until it reaches his ass, parting the cheeks with his fingers. But still he doesn’t slide any finger inside, instead just paying attention to his cock with his other hand. He loves feeling the pulse in it, feeling the blood rushing down and making it grow. It’s indescribable; it almost makes his mouth water.]

Beg.

[ Bruce lets out a sudden breath when that hand shifts, moving downwards to part his cheeks. It's damned intimate, a crawling touch that pierces him to his very nerves, and there's only ever one man whom he has allowed to do this to him. Hell, there has only ever been one person.

And it's Clark. Clark, who is right now looking at him with smouldering, wanting eyes, his arousal so thick in the air that Bruce feels dizzied from it. Clark, who only shows these sharp edges of himself to Bruce, because the world expects him to be gentle. And his blood is pounding faster, his cock in Clark's hand filling even further.

He arches upwards, a smirk curving his mouth as he shakes his head. ]

What makes you think, Mister Kent, [ the name becomes a caress, a filthy word, ] that I take orders better than you do?

[ Shifting on the bed, he shoves his hips towards towards the fingers. Not trying to get them inside him; nothing as crude as that. But feeling them slide right over the edges of his entrance. ]

You have to be more convincing.

[He lets out a hum, which is the most he can get now that almost all the air is out of his lungs. He’s not in danger, not by a long shot, but that doesn’t stop it from being slightly painful. He really isn’t sure of why that sends a thrill down his spine or why his cock is so very obviously interested, so hard it’s really close to hurting with the need to be touched. He has no idea but he stopped questioning the way his body reacted to Bruce’s a long ago.

The hand around Bruce’s cock tightens his grip slightly. He’s spent hours mapping it, he knows exactly how much he has to press so he never crosses the line from pain to pleasure but that doesn’t mean he can get close enough. And then, while he calmly follows a vain from bottom to top with his thumb… he lets his middle finger go past his entrance. He’s just fucked him so he could take much more than that but he still only uses the tip as he grins.]

[ Hell, he's ruining Clark and he knows it. The feel of Clark's arousal is now a physical weight in the air, a heaviness weighing down on Bruce's own lungs, making him gasp, hips rocking upwards, far more than the feel of that finger inside him.

If Clark has ever felt aroused by having a hand around his neck before Bruce got his hands on him, Bruce will eat his entire armour.

Slowly, he loosens his grip. Then, much faster, he shifts them, palms against Clark's shoulders before he pushes him down onto the mattress. Lips curve up, teeth glinting before he leans in and captures Clark's mouth, kissing him hard enough to clack their teeth together. At the same time, his fingers slide over Clark's chest, moving down to his cock, stroking him (fucking hell, he's so hard-) before Bruce shifts again, knees sinking into the mattress.

Then he's lining himself up. Holds himself there, and smiles. ]

Will you ask nicely, Mister Kent?

[God, he’s so hard it hurts. He doesn’t hold back from moaning as a hand wraps around him, forcing himself to keep his eyes on Bruce even as he arches his back and bucks his hips towards him. His lungs hurt as he takes deep breath, his body freaking out thinking he’d almost drowned when in reality he would have survived for hours. Bruce would have almost killed him if he had been a human, and the though makes him moan again in pleasure. This time he does close his eyes.

‘I hate you’, he thinks, but even in his own mind it sounds faint and not honest.]

Never. [He lets out a chuckle once he’s recovered enough for it. He wants to reach for Bruce’s face but he can’t since both his hands are busy, so he leans over to bite his lower lip instead. He’s still biting as he speaks, and moves his finger inside of Bruce. He isn’t using enough finger to find that certain spot, but that doesn’t mean he can’t make it pleasurable.]

Does the rich boy not know how to deal to people not catering to his every whim? Get ready for it, because I will. Make you. Beg.

[ It might seem strange to anyone else that they would tease each other like this, insult each other like this. But this is for no one else, and Bruce knows that - whatever he and Clark might be in this bedroom - they are equals to each other. Clark has seen parts of him that no one has seen, and he has seen parts of Clark that no one else is privileged to.

This darkness is part of Clark. Years ago, when they first began, Bruce had tried to back away, imagining himself as having ruined the man. But Clark isn't as pure and incorruptible as he seems - he has his nightmares; he has bits of himself that are broken beyond repair. And Bruce knows all of it, encourages Clark to show it to him.

Not just for Clark's own sake. But for his own selfish possessiveness as well: no one else can inspire such filth from Clark Kent. From Superman. Hell, even from Kal-El. They see him as a remote figure, sometimes even a friend. Only Bruce knows him as just a man in bed with him, speaking to him like this without any of his ingrained politeness, his finger inside Bruce teasing and teasing.

The groan he makes is something that's ripped out of him. Bruce shudders, tilting his head backwards. He grins, all teeth, before he turns his head and scrapes over Clark's jaw. ]

You have to try harder than that. [ His fingers stroke over Clark's cock again, feather-light. ] Because I'm going to make you beg first.

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ignore the cowl in the icon

what if I like the cowl huh?

well. well it means... it means something, idek what.

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