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There was a room in the Metrotower which served as some kind of court that looks similar to what the Guardians of Oa had when receiving audience. The long, seven seat, solid, curved table wasn’t as tall as what the Guardians had, but it was slightly elevated to give the applicant (or the rookie on probation) a sense of who was in charge. Diana had been the one to suggest it. Clark didn’t like it at first, but when the room was put in use for the next batch of applicants, the number of rookies doing something that would get them suspended decreased.
And the table hid the entire lower body of the seated senior member.
Clark pinched the bridge of his nose and drew a long, deep breath. He couldn’t even look at the file in front of him.
“Uh, sir?” came the girl’s concerned voice. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Clark replied a little too quickly. “I’m fine,” he repeated. He cleared his throat and opened the cream colored folder.
There were two senior members in the room, but he was the only one evaluating this girl.
Bruce was supposed to evaluate her with him, but he was under the table, cowl, and gloves off, with his pants scrunched up down to his knees, and was busy sucking his cock. Clark peeked at him for a few seconds with x-ray vision. Bruce was also fingering himself. Somehow, Bruce giving him a head while fingering himself and wearing his belt turned him on even more.
“Gypsy, right?” Clark breathed out. “That’s–that’s what you’ll go by?” (1)
“Yes, sir,” she nodded.
Clark could feel her eyes on him, probably thinking of how to receive his behavior. Superman shouldn’t look like he found the person before him uninteresting.
“And,” he closed his eyes and took in a sharp breath. He just felt the back of Bruce’s throat and his gag reflex, and the sounds Bruce’s fingers made as he opened himself were loud in his ears. “You have the ability to cast illusions?”
Gypsy’s brows met in concern. “Sir, are you sure you’re okay?” she asked. “I can come back some other time if you’re not feeling well,”
Not feeling well, Clark thought. He wanted to laugh. Superman rarely felt unwell. It was just that Batman was under the table sucking his cock like he lived for it. “It’s alright,” he closed the folder. “Please demonstrate your abilities right where you are,”
Just as she disappeared right before Clark’s eyes, Bruce pulled away. Clark thought he was safe, but then he felt Bruce’s mouth on his balls. He let out a restrained sob when Bruce sucked on one. “That’s enough,” he hissed. He wasn’t even sure if that was for Bruce or Gypsy.
Gypsy reappeared looking terrified.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean it to sound like that,” Clark tried to remedy.
And immediately she looked relieved to hear that.
“And you’re right, I’m not feeling too well. So you’ll be under probation until you prove yourself committed. For now, you’ll report to Zatanna whenever she hails for you,”
Bruce let go of his ball and took Clark’s erection into his mouth again, making Clark let out another hiss. Clark could feel Bruce smirking on his cock and that made his nostrils flare.
“You’ll be summoned together with your mentor, who will share with us her thoughts on your performance when the seven of us are available to assess whether or not you pass the probation or remain in it, okay? That is all, thank you, Gypsy,”
“Thank you, Superman. Sir,” she turned around and left the room.
“Lock the room,” Clark said. The door secured itself and some installed lights turned red to indicate the locked state of the room. He moved the chair he was on away from the table to get a good look at Bruce. Bruce had already disabled the cameras before he walked into the room.
Bruce let go of Clark’s cock with a filthy pop. He licked his lips, and gave the hard on a few gentle strokes as he reached for something in one of the pockets of his belt. “Well, are you going to fuck me or not?” he handed Clark a packet of lube from his belt.
Clark manhandled Bruce as if he weight nothing onto the table. “Oh, I’ll fuck you alright,” he ripped open the packet and carelessly dumped the contents onto his erection.
The pants of Bruce’s uniform kept his legs together, bent on the table so Clark held them to one side and pushed into Bruce unceremoniously. Bruce gasped crude motion. “C’mon, c’mon,” he panted. “Move!”
Clark moved, harder than he should be moving, but that’s what Bruce would ask for anyway.
Neither of them knew where the desperation was coming from. But Clark pounded into Bruce hard, fast, and deep, and the strain and tension Bruce felt was evident on the way one of Bruce’s hands clawed at the table, and how the other hand held onto Clark’s wrist with that hand that held his legs down.
“Fuck, oh, fuck, yes,” he heaved. “That’s it, oh my God, don’t stop–keep going!” Bruce loved the perverse sound of skin slapping skin as Clark hammered his hips into his. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum,”
“Not gonna last long either,” Clark grunted.
“Give it to me,” his words get cut off as his breath gets forcefully drawn out out of him as he came, coating the table with ropes of his come.
Clark came with a roar, burying himself in deep into Bruce and flooding his insides with his release. He leaned on the table panting, then kissed Bruce’s shoulder. He pulled out carefully before collapsing onto his chair, spent.
Bruce was able to summon enough energy to lift his head and look at Clark. “I won’t promise I won’t do it again,”
Clark shook his head. “I think she was on to me,”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Bruce reached for something in his belt. They were wet wipes. He pulled one out of the pack and started cleaning himself and the table as best as he could.
“You planned this?” Clark raised a brow as he fixed up his uniform.
“I saw these in the bathroom,” he pulled his pants back up and got off the table. “And I thought what else can I clean up with these things?” held it up for Clark to see, and Clark set it on fire with a little heat vision to dispose of it.
“God, the exhibitionist in you, Bruce, I swear,”