Archive of Our Own

"Relax, Superman," Dr. Wayne says. He's on his knees, kneeling between Kal's legs, careful in the way he slips his fingers into clinical blue, nitrile gloves. "I'm going to take good care of you today."

Kal has to bite his lip to keep an embarrassed, overwhelmed noise at bay, spreading his legs so that Bruce can fit between them better.

"Don't tell me you're nervous for a little medical exam," Dr. Wayne says. It would be teasing, if not for the deadpan tone of his voice and the way he lifts a critical eyebrow. "I promise, it won't hurt in the slightest."

Gently, a hand presses against his inner thigh and slides his legs further apart, until there's an obvious, quivering bulge straining against the crotch of his hero suit.

A smile twitches at the edges of Bruce's lips.

"Interesting." He grabs his clipboard, which had been tucked to the side of the hospital bed and quickly notates, without even looking, "Patient appears easily aroused."

Kal groans, hiding his face behind his hands as Bruce tucks his pen behind his ear.

The private hospital room is quiet, other than the low hum of Dr. Wayne's voice, or the shifting of Kal-El's thighs against the little mattress. He was atop a little hospital bed, which was much more comfortable than a gurney, and especially those little examination tables with the thin, fragile paper. Kal is grateful that he's able to squirm freely with every touch Dr. Wayne provides.

Dr. Wayne is being very kind, after all, offering his professional services to help Kal with… this.

Kryptonians, apparently, go through something like an animal-like rut every once in a while as adults. Kal had, though red-faced and flustered, had learned as much about it as he could from his Jor-El hologram at the Fortress the first time it had hit him, in his early years as Superman.

Nowadays, he's usually out for about a week, every six months. But even a week absent as Superman was too much for him.

No, this was a much better alternative. If he's lucky, Dr. Wayne will be able to help him find a more permanent solution to simply humping his fist for seven days straight up in the Arctic.

"Take this off for me?"

Bruce gestures to Kal's suit. The only thing he'd thought to take off before settling up on the cot had been his cape, which is dangling harmlessly on a coat hook behind the locked door.

He was still dressed in his blues and reds, and Kal only hesitates for a moment before he nods.

"Right…"

It's a full-body suit. No seams that could be caught in a draft while he's flying, entirely skin-tight for the same reason. But it's very stretchy. Kal hooks his fingers in his collar and tugs until the neckline makes enough room to squeeze around his impressive shoulders. The sleeves roll up against themselves, and then his chest is exposed.

Kal nibbles on his lower lip, nervous, as he tugs the suit down as low as his hips. Right above where Bruce's attention hasn't dropped for even a moment.

Between his legs, now with more room, Kal's cocks wiggle and twist together. Eager.

"No need to be shy. Let me give you room."

Bruce drops back a few inches, weight shifting from his knees to the balls of his feet instead. When Kal's movement stays halted, he finally glances up at his face again.

Expectant.

"Right." Kal bites his lip harder, if only to quell the jittery, wobbly smile that's threatening to overtake his expression.

Kal allows himself to float a bit off of the examination table, quick in the way he shucks the rest of his suit off, kicking it in a haphazard pile, off to the side.

"You're doing great," Dr. Wayne encourages him, voice quiet and soothing.

He doesn't bother looking Kal in the eyes as he says this, attention immediately stolen once again as his fingers carefully tuck themselves against the wriggling appendages between Kal's thighs.

His tentacles, all five of them, are dripping with need today, and seem eager to meet Bruce halfway for any stimulation that he'll bring.

Kal's breath catches when Bruce thumbs across the thick base of each one individually, as if he's trying to take note of any variations between each.

Kal's cocks—tentacles, that is—are entirely alien in nature in comparison to the rest of his body.

Where he could arguably pass as human (and he does on a regular basis, though Dr. Wayne isn't privy to that information just yet), his cocks out him entirely as a man from outer space.

When he is much less aroused than this, he's able to hide them. The tentacles easily furl over themselves into one shaft, twirled together like an ice cream cone in a way. Or flower petals that have yet to bloom from their bud. Like that, Kal is able to tuck his cock into the sheath-like slit along his crotch, thoroughly hiding the tentacles until he's ready for them.

During rut, though… the tentacles refuse to be tamed. They are happy to burst free and stubbornly stay that way no matter how many times Kal yanks at them to try to get them to listen.

Instead of being one singular, twisted length as usual, they slither through the air like snakes in search of something warm and wet to fill up with sticky cum.

There are five shafts in total; four of which are of the same length, same girth, with soft, spongy, and thin tapered tips.

There is one at the center, though, that is longer and just barely stiffer. Instead of being similar in skin tone to Kal like the rest, it's a faded mix of purple and blue at the tip, with a rounded, bulbous glans. Two thick slits where the urethral opening should be, though Kal has never seen it open under any circumstance, where the others would have been clenching open and shut, spilling precum all over in endless fountains.

Kal has no idea if it serves a specific purpose and has, up to this point, never needed to know.

Despite the differences, each tentacle is still much thicker at the base than their tips, complete with tiny little circles on the 'underside' of each. Suckers, eager to attach themselves to something even while they thrust and twist and grind inside of whatever toy Kal is able to synthesize in the Fortress of Solitude before his rut fully overcomes him.

Most toys don't last beyond the rut, unfortunately. The tentacles get too excited, wrapping around it and stuffing inside it, and squeezing until the plastic-like material of the Kryptonian-made fleshlights simply… gives. Shatters, once they've been used up.

It's part of the reason why Kal was desperate to get some sort of professional opinion about this rut thing. And, who better than his close friend, Dr. Bruce Wayne? He would trust the man with his life.

And, apparently, his cock.

"And you're certain you still would like my assistance this time?"

"Yes please," Kal whispers. "Um. If you're still okay with it."

To this, Bruce doesn't bother responding. He simply nods and tips forward again back onto his knees, into Kal's space, and watches him.

His eyes trace along Kal's body, entirely analytical. He takes note of the tremble in Kal's hands, the nervous way he bites his lip. How he keeps sweeping his curl from his eyes even though he can't keep eye contact longer than a moment.

Bruce smiles gently. A fingertip glance across the tips of Kal's cocks.

"Don't worry, Superman. I'm happy to help."

Bruce's eyes glance over at his clipboard again as he, with his free hand, takes note of something. Kal bites down on his lip to stop from panting noisily in the quiet hospital room.

"Your heart rate is elevated beyond your normal levels," Dr. Wayne quietly mentions. Casually, as if Kal's dick isn't curling itself against his wrist and trying to get beneath the gloves. "But that is to be expected. Have you run into anything unexpected with this rut so far?"

"N-no," Kal gasps, caught off guard by the sudden question.

Bruce gently digs a finger into the center of the mass of tentacles, seemingly trying to see if they go further down than the sheath they've slipped out of. All he really does is make Clark's pulse stutter excitedly, even further deviating from his norm.

"No," he grunts again, clearing his throat. "It's just been the normal symptoms so far."

"Mm."

Dr. Wayne pulls his hand back, thumb and forefinger pressed together. When he lifts them apart, a long, slimy string of Kal's precum clings stubbornly until the weight of it makes it break and drip uselessly across Bruce's palm. He makes another contemplative noise at that, eyes shining with quiet excitement.

"Walk me through these symptoms again."

Oh gosh.

Kal tips his head back to stare at the speckled hospital ceiling, but it doesn't do much for him when one of his tentacles is finally able to wrap itself fully around Bruce's wrist and tug him back in, to encourage him to keep touching however he pleases.

"Um…" Kal breathes heavily. "Just—the usual. Like last time."

Kal had gone to Bruce after his last rut, a few weeks after it had fully passed, to see if he'd be interested in studying Kryptonian anatomy. There's only so much Kal could understand himself about it, with what he's found in the Fortress of Solitude. But… he had complete faith that Dr. Wayne would be able to figure out any and all secrets his body had to offer.

The rut, though, has Kal genuinely concerned. What if, one day, it simply refuses to pass? What if there's some sort of biological requirement he's not fulfilling that otherwise wouldn't have been a problem if he were still on Krypton?

He's very hopeful that, with enough study with Dr. Wayne's assistance, he could figure out a way to get rid of it, once and for all.

Or atleast have someone to complain to when it gets annoying.

Bruce had seemed very curious at the mention of the estrus-like cycle. Kal just hopes he won't be too weirded out by him once they've studied all they could, together.

"Alright," Bruce intones. He doesn't try to remove himself from the tentacle's grip. Instead, Kal feels him straighten his hand out so that another can wrap around his palm, too. "And, just for your records, please explain to me what those symptoms were again?"

Kal has to turn his focus to something else so he doesn't cum all over himself embarrassingly fast.

He concentrates on how the stiff, starched bedsheets press like plastic against the backs of his now bare thighs. The room is dark, windows completely shuttered for privacy. In the distance, Kal can hear the rhythmic footsteps of the other nurses and doctors in the hospital, all of whom unaware of how weak Dr. Wayne has Superman right beneath their noses.

"E-elevated heart rate," he says slowly, to keep his breathing even. "Difficulty thinking clearly, at times. Very mild pain in my lower abdomen. Um… increased libido."

Kal isn't sure if he should go into further detail but Bruce, blessedly, grants him mercy.

"Great job," Dr. Wayne praises him, the way one might coo at their dog for performing a trick. It's gentle, still quiet, and Kal digs his fingers into his own thigh so that his hips don't jolt forward so that he can fuck into Bruce's fist.

He hears Bruce's pen scribble on the chart, before it clicks once more and is placed away, tucked into the breast pocket of his scrubs.

"Wonderful, Superman. It sounds like we should expect this to play out as a normal Kryptonian rut, according to what I've studied in those files you provided."

As soon as Bruce had expressed interest in this little… 'project', Kal had been happy to compile everything the Fortress could offer about his biology, physiology, even his psychology. It had been gigabytes worth of information. He has no doubt Bruce has already memorized it all, top to bottom.

"You, um… Y-you can call me Kal-El. Or, just Kal is fine. Or—anything you like."

It's probably a bit weird to have to call him by his hero name, when he's essentially going to be jerking him off for the forseeable future, right?

Though he does wince at his own stammering. But it's kind of hard not to when Bruce's eyes glance upwards curiously and latch onto his vision like he's the most interesting thing in the room.

Maybe he is.

"… If that's something you're comfortable with," Kal tacks on, lamely.

Bruce smiles at him.

It's a small, gentle thing, enough so that it's simply his lips pulling upwards. No teeth. But Kal's heart flutters dangerously fast in his chest at the handsome vision he creates.

"It's best if we keep this professional," Bruce explains gently. "Perhaps another time, outside of uniform?"

Bruce's hand tightens around two of Kal's tentacles. They're thin enough that he could probably fist all five of them in one hand if he wanted, though he wouldn't be able to close it all the way.

But he seems to be wanting to take his time studying each and every reaction he can pull out of Kal.

Weakly, Kal nods. "S-sure. Superman it is."

"Very good," Bruce praises him again. "You're doing a great job, Superman. Bear with me?"

Bruce jerks his hand up and down, urging the tentacles to straighten themselves out so that he can freely fap them to his heart's desire. Obediently, the tentacles wriggle themselves into a curved line, pointing up towards Kal's bared belly.

"Now, does this feel better? Or…"

Bruce twists his wrist on the downward stroke, and Kal's tentacles wriggle excitedly as he lets his fingertips dip in between them again, coating himself down past his glove with the excessive precum.

"… this?"

Kal presses a hand to his face to hide his expression. It doubles to muffle his overwhelmed, broken voice as he grunts out, "U-uh… the second one…?"

"Let me try again."

Bruce does it again. Straightens out the tentacles just by urging the excited things with his fingers, squeezing them tight on the way up. Then twisting on the way down, letting his fingertips part the tentacles again so that they can swirl in between the divots of his fingers and get him messy.

Kal can't hold back his moan this time. He shoves the thick of his palm against his teeth to cut the wanton noise off, and lets his eyes flutter closed as Dr. Wayne plays with him.

"Second one—" he gasps. "L-like that."

"Hm. Your phalli seem to become visibly excited when I touch them like that as well. Do they prefer to be unrestrained during intercourse?"

"Dunno," Kal pants. "I haven't really, haah… D-done anything below the belt before. Just, mmh… ahhwait—"

A tentacle slips itself beneath Bruce's glove. Bruce watches, amused, as it slithers its way as far as it can get, stretching the glove obscenely until it has curled itself around his ring finger.

Kal huffs. "Sorry. I—these things really have a mind of their own. Let me…"

He reaches up, towards Bruce's hand, and carefully curls his pointer finger against the bulk of his wriggly cock. It resists him, because of course it does, and snuggles itself against Bruce's upturned palm next.

"How interesting. Entirely prehensile, but the organ does not necessarily respond to its host."

Bruce mumbles the words to himself, watching raptly as his glove quickly gets coated from the inside with precum.

"You can't control them in the slightest?"

"Not when they're this… excited?" Kal tries the word on his tongue. "Um. Maybe happy is a better description. I figure it's similar to how I fly when I'm happy—they just… act like this when I'm happy instead."

"Hm," Bruce's voice inflects upwards, curious. "Mood does affect the libido of humans as well, though not on this level. I imagine it must be difficult to hide this when you are, as you say, happy."

Kal flusters so much that he nearly cracks the cot beneath him, fingers digging into the sides to keep himself steady.

"I didn't mean—they don't do this every time I'm happy!" He splutters. "Just—around the time I rut and I can't get them to go back… i-in me. Hidden."

Bruce laughs at him. It's more like a soft exhale, but it's a laugh all the same and Kal's stammers peter off uselessly.

"It was a joke, Superman. I was hoping it would relax you, not get you more tense. I apologize."

"No—it's fine. You're. Um. Great?"

Bruce laughs again, stronger this time. It does incredible things to Kal's heart.

"Thank you, Superman. You're 'great', as well. Now, I do believe I have more experiments to run, if I may…?"

Bruce lifts his, so far, unused hand. When his fingertips dip across Kal's chest, he's helpless but to lean back obediently until he's entirely flat. His legs are urged up onto the mattress, so that he's laying properly in the hospital bed.

Bruce has risen from his knees finally, and stands to his full height of six feet compared to Kal's six-foot-four-inches. The height difference matters little when Kal curls into himself, eyes darting down to watch as Bruce continues to toy with his cocks in that clinical way that he does.

"They seem to be getting longer," Bruce notes. "Thinner as well. Approximate growth of… five inches? For a total of roughly twelve inches."

"They like to—when they're inside something…" Kal stumbles. "Unngh, Doc…"

"Is the rut affecting you more than usual?" Bruce asks casually, leaning over to look Kal in the eye. Whatever he sees in Kal's shaky irises, he doesn't notate aloud.

"I'm not sure," Kal confesses. "It's… I've never shared it with anyone before. I don't know if it's different because it's, um…"

'Because it's you', Kal wants to say. But stops himself, when Bruce simply nods.

"I understand. We will have to come back to this next time. See if it's 'different' once these—" Bruce squeezes his cocks. "—have gotten used to me."

Kal moans from deep in his chest at the implication, panting heavily as Bruce begins to stroke him again.

It's faster this time, Bruce switching between each shaft seemingly at random, noting how they leak the same amount from each one no matter which is getting the stimulation.

Fingers dip as low as his stretched open sheath. Kal trembles when Dr. Wayne clinically prods at the taut skin, careful as he follows the seam of it all the way around until he's mapped out just how far his tentacles have stretched him open.

The sheath itself isn't that deep, not when the tentacles have fully flared themselves out as they have. It's a strange sensation, though, when Bruce taps his fingertip against the dark skin, rubbing at its smooth texture.

"Fascinating," Bruce murmurs again.

His other hand has fallen from Kal's chest and instead is holding his shaking thigh flat against the bed. Like that, Bruce lightly leans over him, shadowing Kal just barely with his presence. His hair, only mildly messy around the fringes today, brushes across his eyelids. He doesn't seem to mind when the wisps of it tangle with his thick eyelashes.

Kal watches, awestruck, heels digging into the firm hospital mattress. Idly, Bruce prods along the tense muscle of his thigh, as if cataloguing that too.

Bruce's fingers thrust between the tentacles again, right at the very base of them. All five fingers spread so that the shafts can find their places between, and Kal's entire body goes tight with the sudden onslaught of pleasure.

A strangled noise escapes him, one that Bruce doesn't comment on. Instead, his fingers relax and go limp as the tentacles, teeming with excitement, curl over themselves to get to his fingertips.

They're like needy animals, in a way, desperate for Dr. Wayne's attention.

And Dr. Wayne grants it, lifting his dripping hand up into the air until the thick tentacles have thinned and elongated again, yearning to reach and touch him again.

Precum spills from between his fingers like raindrops.

"That's a normal amount," Kal grinds out before Bruce can ask. "It's—sorry, it's all… wet."

"One would hope so," Bruce hums. "It can only aid during full penetration. With how… excited you say they get…"

Dr. Wayne allows the sentence to hang between, not unlike the way he lets his hand hang limply until the precum is no longer spilling like alien drool from him.

"I should have taken a picture…" Bruce taps his finger against the tip of one of Kal's cocks. It flexes itself, the hole at the top spreading to release another glob of messy, clear precum. "For a before-and-after comparison. Do these look different outside of your rut? Not as long or thick?"

Bruce taps the head again, and Kal can't control the sharp breath that wheezes out of him.

"H-hnng… uhm…" Kal licks his lips. His mouth feels dry and empty, especially compared to how wet his dicks have gotten so far. He closes his eyes to try to keep his concentration, but that, too, is useless when Bruce begins to lightly circle the small, gaped slit at the top of the closest tentacle.

"Try to focus," Bruce says. His voice is like smooth tobacco smoke soaking into Kal's brain. "I know it must be intense, Superman. Does this hurt?"

Bruce puts more pressure at the tip, as if he's trying to fit his thick finger inside of the too-tiny hole. Kal gurgles uselessly, hands shooting up to grab Bruce's wrist even as his eyes roll towards the back of his head.

Before he can even parse through the jumbled words in his head, Bruce continues. With that same pressure, he drags his finger from the tip down towards the underside of the tentacle he's chosen as his test subject for now. The suckers latch onto the gloves messily, nearly yanking the protective layer off in one swoop.

"Doc—ahhg… Dr. Wayne…!"

Bruce follows the curve of the suckers, tracing the tiny little circles until the precum has slicked the way for him, and they've loosened their hold on his fingertips.

Bruce's face is turning red, Kal-El notes absently while gently squeezing his palm against Bruce's wrist. His heartbeat has gotten fast, too. Almost as thumpy as Kal's is.

As if jealous, two more tentacles suddenly spear their way between Kal's palm and the bare skin of Bruce's wrist. Bruce gasps, startled, but doesn't try to yank away when the two appendages twine themselves around him and yank.

They're too slippery to actually pull him. But Bruce goes willingly.

"Sorry!" Kal whines, almost pathetically. "Sorry, Dr. Wayne."

"No need to apologize."

Bruce's voice has gone low. Deep and, strangely, pleased at the prospect of being pinned by these strange tentacles that want to claim him. He glances up, just once, past the thick of his pretty eyelashes until the dark shine of his eyes makes Kal's head fall back against the thin hospital pillow, strength lost.

The three tentacles, upon not being rebuffed, have all begun to wrap themselves around Bruce's arm. Kal can feel the strength of the muscles underneath; a strong forearm that allows itself to be jerked and tugged by these alien creatures just to study them.

They attach themselves as far up as Bruce's elbow, straining themselves the thinnest that can in order to reach that far.

Bruce leans in and, sensing his body heat, the tentacles begin to undulate themselves until they can soak the fabric of Bruce's scrubs with Kal's arousal.

Soon, a dark, wet spot has leaked itself against Bruce's belly.

A slow, barely-there tremble crawls its way up and down Bruce's body. Kal watches as it courses through him, eyes half-lidded. His heart, bounding like a rabbit across a field.

"I believe…" Bruce starts. He licks his lips again. "I believe I need to study these further. Perhaps we should give them what they want. To see if that will appease them."

Bruce slides himself onto the bed with that, and Kal short-circuits. He doesn't move an inch as Bruce settles his knees beneath himself, sitting up fully as he adjusts his clipboard in his lap.

The tentacles had, of course, followed after him like excited puppies. Still clinging to his wrist, though a few have detached to try to reach up to his chin, his face, his neck.

Bruce leans in, humoring them, and hardly reacts as the tips leave lines of wet across his jawline.

"Now, let me know if anything is painful, Superman. This isn't your first rut, correct?"

"Ahh, no…" Kal reaches down and uses his hand as a shield to deflect his cocks as best he can. If they could bite him, he knows they would be nipping at his fingertips. "No. I've had them since I reached adulthood—but it's not usually this… they aren't like this when it's just me."

They really aren't. It's, honestly, rare that they've unfurled so completely in this way, just so that they all have a chance at touching Bruce's skin.

It's almost humiliating, if not for the fact that it feels so good with every brush of the tentacle against his doctor.

"Hm. Let me take note of that," Bruce says, absentmindedly feeling for his pen before scribbling it down in his lap.

A drop of precum spills from his chin and soaks into the edge of the paper. He brushes it away with his pinky, and flips to another page to take note of something else as well. Kal isn't even sure he wants to know what embarrassing things have made their way into his official medical charts because of this… golly.

Bruce leans down. Perhaps to get a closer look at his clipboard now that he can't lift it with his hands, as occupied as they are. Either way, he quickly comes back into range of his tentacles—an opportunity that they are happy to take advantage of.

One of his cocks flits itself against Bruce's cheek, eager to find purchase against the pale, reddening skin. Another brushes Bruce's hair from his forehead, and he huffs out an amused sound when it seems to tickle him.

Yet another wraps itself around his neck. Not to choke, simply to feel the way Bruce swallows, or to relax against the thrum of his heartbeat from his jugular.

"Remind me, Superman… there is an aphrodisiac-like quality to your pre-ejaculate, correct?"

Bruce is close enough that his breath dusts across Kal's heated skin. He's able to block a tentacle before it tries to dive in against Bruce's lips, but he's less successful at stopping the second one that tries.

Bruce's eyebrows furrow when a soft tip nudges itself against the edge of his mouth, but he doesn't tug his head away. He simply drags his eyes back up to Kal's, and nods encouragingly.

It dips in past his lips. Bruce seems to purposefully part them, to make room for it. Kal has an unabashed angle to the way the tentacle excitedly feels along the soft, inner part of Bruce's warm mouth, though it isn't able to sink in further past Bruce's clenched teeth.

Still, it seems happy bulging itself against Bruce's inner cheek, making the skin balloon out to make room for it. Bruce makes a noise at the taste that must hit his senses.

"Rao," Kal breathes heavily, head tipping back again. The visual is too much for him—he may faint. "Uh—yeah. Yes, my precum, and… and my cum, too I think?"

It's a little hard to think when Bruce looks like he's just crawled himself out of the deepest recesses of Kal's mind and was trying to seduce him into giving him all that Kal possibly could.

Goodness knows Kal would do it. He only needs to ask.

Dr. Wayne writes on his clipboard again, mouth still occupied with Kal's dripping cock.

"Very well," Bruce whispers, voice growing soft as he drags his tongue across his back teeth. Gathering up the excessive slick that coats them, thanks to the appendage trying to lay claim to his mouth.

He lifts himself out of range, and the tentacle petulantly waves itself in the air, trying to urge him back.

"Now," Bruce asks. "What is your sexual history? Anything penetrative is applicable, but if you'd like to share beyond that, feel free."

"Oh!" Kal immediately flubs, stumbling over himself. "Um, well… I just—you see, I—"

"Just share anything you're comfortable with," Bruce tries again. "This is just so I know what your body is used to. Anything beyond will mean we're in uncharted territory—which isn't a negative. Simply something we will navigate together. Alright, Superman?"

"Right," Kal acquiesces sheepishly. He entirely averts his eyes as he recalls his past 'experience'.

Which is, practically, nothing. He's never fucked anyone out of costume, and certainly nothing penetrative. The furthest he's ever gotten was fingering… a colleague; Kal winced as he mentioned it. But Bruce simply nods, asking if they had touched Kal in reciprocation—which is a no. Not for lack of trying, but Kal…

It was weird. He didn't want them to feel obligated to start something they weren't interested in, not when every other part of him was 'normal'.

At this, Bruce hums.

"So nothing oral. No vaginal, rectal, or otherwise penetration? Ever?"

"Uh…" Kal scratches at the back of his neck. It feels overheated, like he's baking himself with the force of his blushing.

"I guess the only penetration I've had is with toys," he says finally. "I—my Fortress makes them, sometimes. For the rut."

"I see."

Bruce's eyes brighten, for some reason. He nods once, to himself, and glances down at his impressive wall of notes.

"We will have to experiment further, then. So that we understand what is most effective for your rut in the future. Yes?"

"Yes?" Kal tries.

"Good."

Bruce sets the clipboard off to the side. The pen rolls itself off of the bed with the motion, but Bruce doesn't seem to notice as he tugs at the wrist of his gloves, readjusting them back into place. Kal can see how the fingers on one hand are vulgarly coated with precum underneath, the gloves visibly clinging thanks to the wet.

"Now, this may be a strange angle, so bear with me," Bruce says, only mildly apologetic. "We'll try another position after this."

"Doc—ohhh!?" Kal's confused breath is yanked from him with a startled yelp.

Bruce's lips envelop the very tip of the long, purple-tipped tentacle in the center of the wriggling mass of Kal's cocks, and Kal loses himself to the sensation. Oh goshhh…

Bruce sinks himself down an impressive few inches, until the swell of the base seems to be too much. Or, maybe, it's just a bit too long for him. Either way, his lips pause just over halfway down the shaft, tongue tracing the protrusions of the tentacle's suckers.

He wants to insist that Bruce doesn't have to do this in the slightest, not to help him with an alien sex instinct, but he really really really cannot focus on anything other than the heat of Bruce's mouth.

"Dr. Wayne," Kal calls out weakly. "Please be careful."

There's an annoyed huff from Bruce's nostrils, as if offended at Kal's gentle reminder. Both of his eyes are closed, though, so there isn't an accompanying glare. He's too busy trying not to get precum in his eye as the tentacles rake themselves all across his skin again.

Bruce's mouth is hot, like being enveloped by pure sin. There's a soft 'glurk' from his throat as he tries to swallow, but the tip has pressed itself resoundingly against his glottis. That blush that had just barely been dusted across his cheeks goes splotchy as his lungs ache for air.

For a while, Bruce does nothing more than hold it in his mouth. Kal can feel how spit builds up inside his cheeks, coating his entire length with it. Bruce's lips spread to let the drool drip freely, and Kal hisses as the lines of spit cool thanks to the frigid hospital air.

His hand hovers across the back of Bruce's head, cautious. Waiting to step in if the tentacles decide they like Bruce down, and try to suffocate him on Kal's dick.

But they seem to be on their best behavior, all at once.

Bruce pulls up with a slow, harsh gasp. His eyes flutter shut as he catches his breath, mouth still parted in a perfect circle despite Kal's cock having left its confines.

"I felt it moving inside of my throat," Bruce rumbles, voice already hoarse. "Attempting to get deeper. Try not to let me suffocate, Superman."

"I—aaugh!"

Bruce takes his cock in his throat again. The stiffer, thick middle one again. He seems to like that one the most.

His fingers circle the base as best he can with the other tentacles wrapping themselves like rings around his fingers and hands. As if trying to keep it upright, despite the fact that the tentacle itself was trying to take control of the pace and get as deep as possible, uncaring of Bruce's gag reflex.

Bruce only stays that deep, maybe an inch deeper than before, for a moment.

Then he begins to move.

"Doctor…!" Kal moans. Bruce bobs his head up and down, a quick, almost impassive pace. His eyes are open this time, but his vision seems to have shut itself off to him. His gray eyes are blank as he focuses entirely on suckling the bulbed tip in one moment, slurping across the shaft in another.

Kal drops his hand, uselessly clenching it into a tight fist against the bed to steady himself.

"Doc," he whines. 'Bruce…!', he barely holds himself back from crying aloud.

Bruce hums. It sends a lightning strike of pleasure straight across Kal's senses, one that has him moaning yet again, high-pitched and desperate.

"You're so good at this," he pants. "A-at… sucking it... G-ahh-gosh…!"

Bruce's tongue curves itself against his dick, tracing the smooth texture of his length on the opposite side of his tentacle suckers. He swallows thickly. Kal feels his throat close around his tip, and he keens for it once more.

Bruce seems to notice, ever so observant, that change in pitch of his moaning. He does it again.

He swirls his tongue around the thick shaft, focusing the soft underside of his tongue against the smooth of Kal's cock. Then he shoves himself down an inch—two, or three, forcing his throat to open up—and then purposefully swallows.

"Doc… ohh, please—Dr. Wayne, please!"

Kal humps into him. He can't help it, not when Dr. Wayne keeps slurping against it, tonguing all along the length that he can. Kal thrusts in, just twice, and stops as soon as Bruce gags.

Kal yanks his hips back into place, flat against the bed. Bruce follows him, throat still suctioned as deep on the tentacle as he could get.

But, slowly, he relaxes himself until it can slip out again, stiff and aroused and dripping with his spit. The tentacle curls into itself like a pig's tail, then straightens again to brush Bruce's own drool right against his lips again. Like a very wet kiss.

Kal covers his face with a humiliated whine.

Bruce laughs softly, an amused huff, and curls his fingers around the tentacle's shaft, allowing himself to idly play with it as he swallows over and over, trying to clear his throat of the thick, slimy precum coating it. It seems to cling stubbornly, thankfully not painfully, to all of his wet throat, and it keeps drooling out of his lips when he opens them. Bruce's mouth, all lubed up for another tentacle to slide into it.

Golly…

When Bruce turns his head, as if to pat for his long-lost pen to take some notes, the tentacles spring back into action. His mouth is instantly filled by Kal's neglected cocks instead.

"Mmph!" Bruce's surprised noise is cute. It feels inappropriate to say so, especially when Kal blinks blearily and watches as his dicks begin to ravage him all over again.

"Doc!"

Bruce lifts a hand, stilling Kal from taking (useless) action. All four shafts spread themselves across Bruce's mouth in the interim.

One prods at his lips until they hang open, still wet with a buildup of Kal's excessive arousal. Another drags itself along the jut of his teeth, feeling the sharp canines, wiggling across the smooth of his incisors. Yet another curls itself entirely around his tongue, though only an inch of it can fit properly. Bruce has to stick it out of his mouth to make room, breath gasping out of him freely thanks to it.

The final tentacle hangs back, seemingly lost as it tries to figure out where to fit itself. It nudges against Bruce's lips, teeth, tongue, but quickly finds itself bullied out of the way by its overexcited counterparts.

Kal has just reached out to tug it back and out of the way. Maybe jerk it off a bit, because the visual of Bruce being overrun by his tentacles like this was making his tummy clench in a peculiar, familiar way.

Before he can, though, the thing straightens itself. Stretches until it's the thinnest it can be, about the width of a finger or two.

Then it spears itself down Bruce's throat with no warning. Simply slides itself across the other shafts, twists and wiggles only once to fit itself in place, and then fucks its way past the loose, open barrier of Bruce's throat.

"Haah…! Ohhmy—gosh!"

It's different this time, being down Bruce's throat. The tentacle shoves itself farther than Bruce had gotten on its own, and it's entirely uncaring as it stretches Bruce deep inside. Kal slams his head back against the pillow, nearly breaking the hospital bed thanks to the jerking motion. The pleasure shooting through him has his toes curling, and he resists—barely—lifting his legs to wrap them around Bruce's back and tug him in deeper.

Bruce's eyes have rolled themselves towards the back of his head. His mouth is entirely filled, stretched to the brim, and his throat is no better off. Kal watches a bubble of spit mixed with slimy precum build and pop against his lower lip, breath just barely able to squeeze itself in and out of his lungs.

Kal takes a second to breathe. Greedy, when Bruce struggles to do so now that he's been impaled by it.

Then he shoves his fingers along the bases of his cocks, carefully trying to figure out which is which so he can extract the naughty one that has laid claim to Bruce's empty, gurgling throat.

"Sorry," he rasps. "S-sorry, I'll pull out. Hnngh…! J-just… stop swallowing, oh Rao, please…!"

Bruce swallows again. He can't seem to help it when the tentacle undulates purposefully against his gag reflex.

The tentacles refuse to let Kal pull them away. Each one yanks itself from the grasp of his fingers, aided by the wet coating them entirely too thickly. Whenever he seems to get a good grip on one, another knocks itself against Kal's knuckles and ruins his progress.

It's especially hard, because it feels so damn good with each touch. Kal can hardly focus past it, wanting nothing more than to help, to jerk off what few inches of each are still exposed to the cool, sterile, hospital room air.

Bruce's fingers glance across his wrist, blindly. Right against his pulse-point. Then the fingers wrap themselves soundly around him, tugging his attention back.

When he pauses, Bruce makes a pleased, rumbly sound. It sends Kal reeling all over, thighs nearly clamping shut against Bruce's cheeks as it overcomes him.

A ragged chuckle, though it's more of a wheezy laugh with the way Bruce has to work his throat around the intrusion down it, and Kal trembles for more.

He drops his hands. Grips a fistful of the starched sheets beneath him to clean the lube from them.

Bruce lets the tentacle fuck itself in and out of his throat, and Kal gets to watch as the tears build up on his lashes. Bruce seems to not be aware of the reaction, his uvula battered so much that it's probably taking everything to focus on that steady, barely-in, barely-out breathing that he's been doing.

A tear falls, and Kal watches with his own wide eyes as the pretty, shiny drop traces itself over Bruce's bulging cheek, and leaves a shimmery line of wetness.

Stark and clean, in comparison to the sticky wet precum that coats him otherwise.

Kal reaches out and touches it, his thumb ruining the path as he rubs it into Bruce's skin. His tentacle tries to straighten itself at the sensation, but it doesn't have enough room to do so. Instead, all it can do is switch to the other cheek and spread more of its flavor there, as Bruce blinks slowly up at Kal-El.

"So good," Kal murmurs. "You're taking it so well."

Bruce's eyes squeeze shut again at the praise. He chokes, concentration broken.

His throat constricts itself so tightly around the length of Kal's cock, that Kal can't help but go breathless too. His moan gets caught in his chest as Bruce gags hard, reflex kicked into overdrive as Kal's tentacle seems to try to overlap itself while still inside of him, unsure if it wants to fall back into his mouth, or pierce itself deeper, into his belly.

The other tentacles decide for it. Bruce's jaw has gone entirely slack, leaving just enough room for the appendages to twirl themselves together.

Kal's tentacles twist themselves like a braided rope along the purple shaft in the middle, pulling out just enough to make sure Bruce's poor mouth won't break from the motion.

Then the entire thing, now stiffened into one long, thick, desperate shaft, presses itself back against the opening to Bruce's throat.

Bruce only gets one ragged inhale before he's fucked onto it again. His hand slaps itself against Kal's thigh when Kal tries to jump into action, hand fisting itself around the base of it. His nails dig themselves into Kal's skin, and it would be painful if not for Kal being Superman.

"Dr. Wayne, i-it's, I didn't mean for them to! Are you okay?"

"Mmgh—" Bruce tries to respond.

He gives up and, instead, sucks. There's a messy noise as he slurps up all the wet in his mouth, drinking it down greedily, and then his cheeks fully suction across Kal's length, trying to urge out more for him to taste.

Kal tucks an errant lock of hair behind Bruce's ear, carefully nudging it out of the mess of slick covering his face.

Bruce blinks his eyes open, just barely able to see past the build-up of tears flooding his pretty, grey eyes.

Kal's chest heaves as he cups Bruce's cheek, caressing him gently in opposition to how his throat is being ravaged.

His cock twitches, almost entirely hilted down Bruce's neck.

"They aren't… hurting you, are they?" He bears down his palm and feels how Bruce sucks harder, until the cheeks cave a bit.

He seems so thirsty for it.

Bruce chokes, again, as he tries to respond—trying to shake his head maybe. Either way, the cocks have grown too stiff inside of him now that they've wound together.

He probably can't breathe much around them, if at all. Kal gets to watch the way his eyes cross, overwhelmed as the tentacles serpentine deep in him.

When Kal reaches down again, to attempt to ease some of the strain on Bruce's throat, he's shooed away by Bruce's weak, twitching hand once more.

Bruce is choking himself dumb on Kal's alien dick, entirely willingly.

It's so good.

Kal wants him to take more.

Kal-El feels inundated with pure heat. It's heavy, like being waterlogged. Need burns through him. Bruce's hair is soft against his fingertips as he follows the curve of his skull beneath the scalp.

His palm grips the back of Bruce's head.

When he pulls, Bruce's throat obediently gives, taking a couple more inches of the fat cock stuffing it full.

"Sorry," he gasps. "Nngh, s-sorry, Dr. Wayne. Tell me if it's too much, okay? I just—unn, n-need it so bad—goshh, please…"

Kal thrusts in. Pulls out with a tremendous amount of self-control, though he only gets about half of the length out before his hips hump forward again, desperate to be surrounded by that tight wet again.

He fucks Bruce's mouth, hips driving upwards to meet him halfway.

"Yes…!"

Bruce's hands drop to the bed to find purchase, lifting himself so he isn't bent in half so much to reach the base of Kal's dick.

It just gives Kal more room to fuck into him, slipping forward a couple inches so that his thighs can squeeze themselves around Bruce's abdomen and hold him steady.

Kal sits up, and then fully stands, right on top of the bed. With the way that they're connected together, Bruce's head is yanked up along with him, until his neck has straightened. Creating a clear shot from his lips to his throat, perfect for Kal's dick to slot itself into over and over again.

"Need it," Kal groans again. "Just once, okay? J-just need to cum once and then—then we can move on. Whatever you want."

Bruce's nose brushes his skin. His face finally pushed all the way down to meet Kal's groin thanks to the unrelenting grip in his hair.

Kal uses that grip to tug Bruce forward, until Kal is able to lean back against the wall for purchase. It gives him a better angle to fuck into Bruce's mouth with, feet digging into the mattress just enough so that he doesn't slip. Bruce makes an aborted noise as he's easily moved from one end of the bed to the other, hands flailing until he grips Kal by his hips to keep himself steady.

Maybe he should get down, bend Bruce over the bed so he can rut into him deeper. Maybe even press the back of his head into the floor so that all he has to focus on is taking it.

His throat makes this beautiful, rough noise each time Kal bottoms out. A harsh gag punctuates it, but Kal-El's hips move fast enough that it's hard to discern the pattern in the noise.

In the end, Kal stays exactly where he is. He humps Bruce's face desperately, as if Bruce is threatening to take it from him if he lets the pace falter for even a moment.

But, no, Bruce hums around his tentacles, purposeful this time, and he just readjusts himself each time the tentacles fuck themselves deeper when Kal doesn't thrust fast enough for them. He takes it—and takes it all so beautifully.

Dr. Wayne's throat is bulging with it. Now that he's properly standing up and staring down at him, Kal-El can see it.

Kal digs his thumb in against the cartilage at the front of Bruce's neck, careful of his strength, and shudders when he can feel the sensation right against his cock. Fuck—it's like grabbing a fleshlight around its soft middle while humping it.

Kal squeezes, briefly, and lets go before he tries to use that grip to yank Bruce up and down his length. Exactly like he would with a toy.

"'s so tight," Kal groans. "Your throat is so tight for me, Dr. Wayne. G-gonna break it if we're not careful…"

It's turned into a nice, dripping, lubed up hole for him to fuck.

Poor Bruce looks debauched from it all. His tongue has shoved itself out past his lips, no more room left in his mouth for it thanks to the thick cock laying claim to him. Thick lines of drool and spit leak continuously from him, spilling down down down until there's a new wetspot along the collar of his scrubs. Not to mention the puddle between Kal's legs, a mix of what he hadn't been able to swallow as Kal bullied his way deep inside of his greedy maw.

"You're so pretty," Kal praises, overwhelmed. Filthy words spill from him like oil across water. "Such a pretty little hole for me, promise 'm gonna fill it up just how you want. Hnng—s-sorry! Sorry, ughhn, ssssorry…!"

Kal grinds his hips against Bruce's face, finally biting down on his tongue to shut himself up. It's the rut talking, just the rut, but good gosh does Kal want to make good on the words.

In response, the throat around him loosens, then tightens back up on the next thrust. Like he's trying to milk everything he can from Kal-El.

He tries to resist the filthy phrase swirling in his brain, but he really can't—not when Bruce seems to be trying to seduce him with every wanton gulp.

"So good—wanna fill you up with it, Doc. C-Can I? Please? Can I cum down your throat?"

There would be so much for him to swallow. A nice, thick load, just for him. Warming up his tummy from the inside out; whatever he couldn't swallow dripping from his fucked-open mouth.

Kal looks down at Bruce's face again. More of those tears spill from his eyes, overwhelmed ones that only serve to highlight the cute pink blush on his cheeks, his pretty lashes all clumped together from it.

Kal pulls out, just half an inch. When he doesn't immediately thrust back into place, Bruce's eyes dart up, to look at him back. Begging for it.

Fuck.

"Cumming…! 'm cummin', s-sorry—ahhgh, R-Rao, 'm gonna cum down your throat, ohhh…! Dr. Wayne!"

Kal's breath catches as he hilts himself once more in Bruce's mouth, feeling how Bruce's tongue tries to pry itself between the mass of tentacles to wrap around one. It's such a strange, wonderful sensation, that his cocks loosen a bit, just to let him in.

Kal can feel thick globs of cum spurting from his tips. Even the thick middle one, which usually only drips pre… he can feel the tip opening itself up.

It's the deepest inside of Bruce of all the tentacles, squeezing itself against the tight confines until it's found a nice, warm spot to settle against.

Then something—Kal's vision whites out as it happens—slides out of it. Electricity pierces through him, every nerve alighting with delightful, almost painful, pleasure.

He cries out, maybe, or Bruce tries to and Kal just feels the vibration through his entire body. Either way, the haptic feedback shatters what little self-control he has left.

He thrusts in impossibly deeper, watching Bruce's jaw twitch as the tentacles spasm inside of him.

Bruce splutters against it, neck straining as he takes it. Whatever it is that spills out of him, the other tentacles unravel at the tip to thrust in and out, entirely out of sync with one another, to try to shove that… thing, deeper down Bruce's throat.

Kal doesn't let go of Bruce's head until it's done.

"Doc," he gasps, voice wrecked. "Nnn… D-Dr. Wayne. Golly…"

He yanks himself from Bruce's clenching throat, carefully nudging his hips forward and back to loosen the tight grip. It's kind of like fucking him all over again, but Kal curls his fingers tight around his trembling cocks to stop from barrelling back inside, not before he figures out what the hell that was.

Even once he's pulled himself free, Bruce's cheeks are full of white, dripping cum. His poor throat was too full to take it all properly, and the lube-like precum had made it all too easy for it to stick to his mouth.

It spills out of him messily as he gasps, coughing around the strange intrusion deposited in his throat.

Bruce swallows.

"No!" Kal drops to his knees so sharply that the bed rumbles. Thankfully it doesn't shatter.

Kal gathers him up by his neck, carefully pressing his palm to Bruce's jaw to keep his head angled up. Then he shoves his fingers in after the… the thing. The—

The egg.

Kal swallows nervously. It must have been. Now that his head is clearing, thoughts coming back to him after such a heavenly orgasm, his body recognizes the shape, the feel of the egg depositing itself deep down Bruce's throat.

This has never happened before.

It was thick, thicker than the shaft, but soft and malleable so it, thankfully, didn't completely ruin Bruce's poor insides.

Kal thrusts his fingers in Bruce's mouth as deep as they can go, trying to catch whatever edge of the egg that he can to dig it back out. No, no, no…

He has no idea if they're even safe for ingestion, let alone what it might do once deep in Bruce's belly. It certainly isn't poisonous—Kal had asked the Fortress to make sure he was compatible with humans in all ways possible because he was worried about that before. But… maybe he should have asked about eggs? Why the heck does he lay eggs? Oh gosh, oh gosh.

Bruce jerks against him.

One of Kal's arms had reflexively wrapped itself around his back, tugging him in close so that he could watch with his x-ray vision, to see if he could get the egg before it got too deep.

Kal watches just in time as Bruce's body swallows once more, another reflex, and takes the thing fully down into his belly.

"Dr. Wayne," Kal breathes, quietly and panicked. His fingers curl, desperately nudging against the soft insides before he realizes what he's doing. Trying in vain to urge the egg back up.

Bruce twitches one more time, a full body shudder that has his eyes squeezing shut so hard that more tears spill from his eyes.

His fingers dig into Kal's immovable wrist, but it seems like it is mostly just to have something to helplessly hold onto as he chokes on Kal's fingers along with his own ragged moan.

His entire body is taut, trembling right in Kal's grip.

When he goes limp, his clenched together thighs fall open.

Kal's eyes dart down and, still x-raying, get to watch as wet cum soaks into the pants of his doctor's uniform. His cum.

Bruce came.

Kal gently tugs his fingers out from where they'd been fucking Bruce's throat back open.

He's covered in spit, down to where Bruce's hand is tangled around his wrist. It's so warm that it makes Kal blush.

"Oh—goodness."

He came. Kal had shoved two fingers down his already-stretched throat, feeling all along those fucked-soft insides and muscles, rutting his knuckles against the squishy parts until spit built up along his palm… and Bruce had cum because of it.

"You liked that…?" He uses his wet thumb to trace along Bruce's strained neck. Kal follows the bumps and curves of it downward, until he reaches that soft part of the skin where the neck meets the chest.

He bares down. Just an iota of his strength, just barely enough to put the lightest hint of pressure on Bruce's windpipe.

Bruce wheezes, but doesn't make a single motion to move away.

"You really liked that. Didn't you, Dr. Wayne?" Kal-El murmurs.

When Bruce opens his eyes, Kal is taken by how soft he looks. Where the man is usually tired, run ragged with so many duties to take care of the hospital, right now he is relaxed. He looks like something has him floating; all of the natural aphrodisiac that must be soaking into his very veins, perhaps. Either way, he looks so… so beautiful.

Kal almost leans forward, the hospital bed rickety with two grown bodies squeezed onto it, lips parted to mimic the way Bruce's are.

He catches himself just before their lips brush, grabbing an edge of the protective bed sheet and untucking it so that he can use it as a napkin, mopping up some of the mess on Bruce's chin, his neck.

Bruce doesn't seem to have noticed the near-fatal slip up Kal almost made.

"Couldn't have warned me?" Bruce is asking instead, thickly.

He scrubs at his eyes with the back of his hand, trying to clear his vision. They're so blurry with those pretty tears that Kal has to take over with his makeshift rag, biting his lip as he tries not to hyperfocus on how strangely arousing it is that Bruce just lets him take care of it.

Once the tears are gone, Bruce still looks a mess.

His scrubs are soaked, and there's no hiding the ruddiness of his cheeks or the way his pouty lips are all swollen. Looking just like he'd gotten the facefucking of a lifetime.

Kal clamps his thighs together, trapping the tentacles before they get started all over again. They're already twitching for more.

"I am so sorry," Kal stresses. "I had no idea I could even do that… lay an egg. I swear I wouldn't have even let it get this far if I knew it was something we should have worried about—"

"It's fine," Bruce hums. "We should have expected eccentricities, going in nearly blind to this. It… wasn't painful."

Kal gives him a look of disbelief, eyes reflexively glancing at the red spot where Kal's finger was still lightly digging into. He lets go and Bruce, once again that day, swallows heavily.

Bruce licks at his lips, sounding equal parts lost and amused as he confesses, "It was fun. You taste… incredible."

Bruce crawls forward. His hands plant themselves against Kal's thighs, curving against the tensed muscles to pry them open. Kal lets him, because he doesn't want Bruce to hurt his fingers trying to move such immovable objects.

The tentacles are only slightly sluggish as they greet him this time, back to clinging to his forearms as if they'd never left.

The purple one is limper than the rest, nearly hanging under its own weight. But it perks up when Bruce purposefully leans down and drags his lips across it; a kiss.

"Can you give me one more?"

"Uh?"

Bruce is already jerking him off again. He's entirely unafraid of the tentacles as he plants his cheek against Kal's thigh, lips pulled into an elated grin.

Kal only just now notes the way his pupils are blown wide, almost like a cat that has spotted something it needs to pounce on. Kal isn't even fully sure it's just because of the aphrodisiac.

"We had no idea you came from an egg. We need to acquire a sample—for your records."

Bruce licks at his tip all over again.

He's shameless as he moans at the taste once more, though even the smell is making him feel inebriated by now, too. Heady and thick and heavy all across his every sense.

Kal was addicting in every single way, and Bruce wanted as much of him that he could get.

Bruce brazenly moans as he feels the tentacle begin to harden again, like a cock already over its refraction period. Kal makes a noise that sounds mixed between pained and absolutely roused with desire. He's holding himself back again.

"Just one more," Bruce reiterates. "I'll provide assistance again, Superman."

Bruce might be able to get him to fuck his mouth harder this time.

"Ohh… mm'kay," Kal-El responds, voice as shaky as his hand as he pets his fingers through Bruce's hair. "Just one, okay?"

Bruce nods, already moving. He longingly strokes his favorite tentacle one last time, before he rolls onto his back.

Bruce's body feels heavy as he flips himself over, letting his head hang off the edge of the skinny little hospital bed. His legs kick up and his feet catch on one of the metallic edges of the bedframe, keeping him from having to balance himself too much to stay in this position.

"Like this," Bruce orders, already working at yanking his gloves off. They were long ago useless, the moment the tentacles had worked themselves into a frenzy beneath the stretchy plastic.

He tosses the bundled up, wet gloves onto the floor, eyes ablaze as he watches Kal awkwardly situate himself right in front of his face.

Bruce grabs him by his hips to steady him.

"Pull out when you feel it. I'll catch it," Bruce swears, though he has a feeling he'll have to rely on some sort of miracle reflex if Kal humps his face as deep as he had earlier. All Bruce had been able to see was the beautiful, sun-kissed tan of his hips when his face had gotten shoved all the way down.

It was wonderful.

Kal nods to the order, his blue eyes all dark like a midnight storm. He looks enchanting, his lips unconsciously dropped open as he pants. As soon as Bruce had gotten his hands on Kal's cock, he'd been panting for it. Lips open, wanting something against them maybe.

Bruce opens his own lips, and the tentacles slot themselves back into their preferred positions all at once, as if trained.

"This is a bad idea," Kal-El murmurs. Bruce ignores him in favor of trying to lick to tentacles at once while they fight for a spot down his throat.

They fuck into his mouth, filling it entirely. He watches, pleased, as Kal's eyes dart from side to side, seemingly memorizing each time his cheeks bulge out, or when tears build up as the tentacles brush just a little too deep and flick across his gag reflex too fast.

They don't play for too long, though. Between one choked gasp and the next, Kal's cocks yank themselves all the way inside again to fuck him. Needy little things.

Bruce tries to focus on the taste; he's filled with it, there's an ache in his jaw from it. Kal doesn't have any testes but Bruce's nose nudges across the bottom part of his sheath occasionally, and it still blocks what paltry air Bruce can breathe in like this and—it's so good. It's everything.

He wants to use that grip he has on Kal's hips to control the pace, or honestly just to get him to hilt himself over and over in quick succession until Bruce breaks, but Kal is stalwart as ever. Unable to be moved when he doesn't want to be.

Besides, he's doing a very good job on his own.

Kal ruts himself in deep and holds it there, letting the tentacles play as they please.

Only three total have made it into Bruce's mouth.

The other two caress his face, their favorite activity. He can't even mewl for it with his throat pried open like this, so he simply flutters his lashes as suckers attach themselves to his skin and leave damning lines in the forms of hickeys all across him. He can feel the skin go tender and bruised. He does not hate it.

One brushes as far down as his nipple. The feeling makes him jolt, spine arching at the sudden stimulation. Kal himself groans shakily, one hand planted on the bed, the other securely stationed against the back of Bruce's head. Holding him down, as if he isn't exactly where he wants to be.

Bruce allows himself to go limp, relaxing as his other nipple gets toy with. The tip of the dexterous little monster molesting him flicks and curls around the tiny little nub, unable to get at it properly through the hospital scrubs.

God, Bruce is going to look a mess once this is done. His cunt throbs endlessly between his legs, still rutting against his wettened panties.

He lets his legs spread open, falling into a butterfly pose without slipping off the side of the bed. Kal makes a noise as he sees that wet spot between Bruce's legs, fucking into his mouth harder.

Kal's fucking his face, just like how he'd fuck Bruce's pussy probably, and—oh God, Bruce barely resists crawling his hand down his belly at the thought, and rubbing himself through his uniform.

He simply makes himself hold on for the ride instead, insides clamping around nothing in desperation.

When Superman had come to him with this little problem, Bruce had been intrigued for a multitude of reasons, some of them grossly personal, so that he had something private to take home with him when his desire for Superman got a little bit too much to push to the back of his mind.

But never did he think that this would actually happen.

His throat has never sounded so… debauched before. Bruce has always been happy to suck a cock, let it fill up his mouth, strain against his uvula. But he's never been facefucked like this before, caught between a body that desperately wants to treat him like a valuable prize, and tentacles that just want to use him up until his mouth is stuck open; their permanent fucktoy.

It's maddening—it's so fucking hot.

Bruce scratches his nails down Kal's abdomen. The latter, of course, doesn't even feel it, but he takes a step back so his tentacles can't overwhelm him anymore. Breathing so hard that it seems like a Herculean task not to let his cocks make all the decisions.

Bruce slowly licks his lips, the head of three of Kal's dicks still in him. So much has spilled out of his mouth, coating him up to his hairline. He probably looks like a whore.

Bruce coughs, once, just to try to clear the passageway of some of the slick clinging to his throat.

Then he shuffles in again, mouth wide open. "Ahhh…" He calls for it, tongue still out.

His head feels so full like this. Blood rushing to the top of his brain, head overrun with a foreign aphrodisiac that just makes him so hungry for it. Bruce wants them to touch his nipples again, make him feel it.

God he wants to be fucked by them.

"Kal," he whines, when the tentacle doesn't spear him again. "Kal-El…"

Kal's entire body stiffens, shivering, shaking. He keels over as if the use of his name had hit him directly in his solar plexus, and he gasps raggedly as he nudges forward, letting his tips mash themselves against Bruce's swollen lips.

Suckers catch on his tongue. It's such a strange, good sensation that Bruce's toes curl.

"Mmmh… Doc…"

Kal's face lands against Bruce's belly. He nuzzles his forehead in, free hand clamping around his hip to keep him in place as he moans against him. Bruce feels him inhale deeply, partially to ground himself. Maybe just to surround himself more with Bruce's debauched scent.

The concept of the latter makes Bruce himself moan again. Mouth still open, drooling.

"Kal, please," he whispers, when Kal teases him with the tips again. They dip themselves in and out, just feeling along his tongue. The two explorers aren't able to reach his chest when pulled back that far, so they've curled themselves around Kal's base into thick knots, stroking themselves off.

Bruce wonders if Kal can actually do that. Let his tentacles get themselves off while he lays back, watching his body play with itself.

Oh, he probably makes such lovely noises.

"I won't last long," Kal confesses, mouthing across Bruce's covered belly button. If he plants his feet and shoves back in Bruce's mouth, he'd probably be able to lick his tongue across Bruce's weeping slit as he does. He's tall enough that he wouldn't even have to strain for it.

"I can take it," Bruce begs. "Want it, Kal. Please."

Kal-El makes such a sinful noise at Bruce's easy begging. So he does it again.

"Please fuck my face, nngh—wanna feel you stretching my throat again. Feels so good to be filled up by you, taking it—I can take it, Kal. I can be a good hole for you. I will."

"Dr. Wayne," Kal whimpers. He seems trapped between many different responses, probably along the lines of not wanting to hurt him, not wanting to overwhelm him.

Bruce just wants to cum while his face gets fucked again. He swallows wetly, purposefully loud, and drags himself forward by his ever-present grip on Kal's hip.

"Please," his voice, muffled, spills out of him. "Please, please, pl—mmph!"

Kal ruts forward, and the tentacles quickly wrap themselves together into a single pole. Ready to take.

Bruce almost sobs when Kal pulls it away again. He shoves himself up, standing again instead of laying across Bruce's body, and readjusts his grip. His fingers spread along the back of Bruce's neck, tickling his nape. When the grip tightens, Bruce humps the air.

Kal strokes himself, from tip to base, and aims back at Bruce's wanton mouth.

"Promise you can take it?" He growls. It seems he doesn't mean to, but holding back even long enough to ask looks as though it's taking all of his concentration.

But Bruce likes the tone. He's never seen Superman's needlepoint-precise control slip so much. It's nothing short of getting drunk off of the richest, rarest wine.

Bruce nods, just once, and lets his tongue loll out of his mouth once more, to act as a landing pad for Kal's dripping tip.

Kal fucks back into his mouth, and makes him take it.

Something immediately ruts against his chest; a tentacle, fully extended to wrap itself against his tits and fondle them. Through the scrubs, the tentacle tries to get to his pecs and mark them up the way it has marked his cheeks, his neck. There's probably so many tiny, sucker-shaped hickeys on him by now.

Bruce reaches up, maybe to encourage it down his neckline so that it can get to his bare skin, but he's interrupted.

Both his wrists get stolen, wrapped in a tight grip and yanked away. All he can do with them now, trapped in the tentacle's needy hold, is just barely brush his fingertips across Kal's thighs.

"Dr. Wayne," Kal moans freely. "Doc—ohhh, Doctor you feel so good around me. G-gonna… hhaa, d-don't want it to end. Wanna be in you forever, just like this. C-Can you breathe?"

Kal knows Bruce can't answer, preoccupied, but he can't seem to help the desperate question. He moves his hand from the back of Bruce's neck to the front, his thick, heavy palm planting itself along Bruce's jaw.

Fuck, he can probably feel his tentacles squirming in Bruce's overstuffed hole. His fingers curl over like he wants to jerk himself off from the outside.

"Soon, okay? S-soon, I'll pull out and you can breathe again, okay? Prom-ahhnggosh…!—Promise!"

Bruce's vision begins to black out. The whorish sounds stuck in his throat begin to get fucked out of him, body going soft and pliant. Kal fucks him until Bruce's throat gives, until it obediently takes it. Bruce might cum again.

The tentacles in his hands make his fingers curl over, around them. Then they fuck into that lax grip until Bruce tightens the hold for them, another wet hole for them to fuck.

He's gonna cum again. Bruce reflexively yanks at the tentacles, fingers twitching with the need to touch himself and bring him to completion faster. He doesn't have anything left in him to feel embarrassed at the prospect of jerking himself in front of Superman.

Not when Superman is jerking himself off using Bruce's throat like a sex toy. He's moaning openly at the ceiling, eyes squeezed shut as he tries to control himself. Always so careful.

He fucks deep enough into Bruce's throat that his lips press into his base on each pass, like a lewd little kiss.

"'m gonna cum," Kal whimpers. He seems embarrassed about it, but he can't seem to stop his hips this time to ask once again if it's okay. Bruce swallows as best he can, a silent, exasperated plea to fill him up.

His throat is shoved open again, messing up the suction. Kal doesn't seem to mind the loss.

"G-gonna cum, gonna cu-uhmmn," he hisses. "Gonna fill you up with it again. Y-your tight throat's all stretched around me, goshhh, I wanna see how long I can play with it. Dr. Wayne…!"

He uses the grip he has on Bruce's throat to tug him in as deep as possible. His voice shakes as it spills out of him, crying out Bruce's given name.

"Dr. Wayn—nnggh!!"

Kal pulls out his hips at the last possible moment, just as Bruce's throat gets creamed with thick, alien cum. His legs lose their grip and kick out uselessly.

Bruce's hands are still occupied. He feels Kal's dicks rut themselves against his palms as they, too, get off along with the other three stuffed down his gullet. Cum jettisons across his chin, his chest.

Now that they aren't fully hilted, Bruce can feel each spurt of thick cum trying to fill him up. It's hot—physically warm all across his senses. There's no escape from the almost-searing temperature, leaving him overstimulated, overwhelmed, thirsty.

His throat opens itself up and swallows, not even to prevent him from drowning in it. Simply because Bruce wants it in his stomach so fucking badly that there's no other option but to slurp it all down.

Even if the pleading noises he makes are nothing short of wanton.

They crescendo into whorish begging, muffled by tentacles, when he feels the egg work its way down Kal's middle shaft. His lips stretch around it, just a bit. When it catches at his tonsils not a second later, Bruce is close enough to passing out that it simply nudges its way in, shoving past any reflexive resistance Bruce's throat might have had to offer.

Kal is ready this time, though.

Just as his dicks spurt another load inside, he circles Bruce's neck with his hand and squeezes down, just this side of uncomfortable. Any more and Bruce would break. Any less, and the slippery, malleable little egg would just pop itself into Bruce's stomach to join the other one. It's precise the only way that Superman can be.

Unfortunately, the hold also cuts off Bruce's air. His throat overfilled, and then closed off on one side… he has no choice but to choke.

It's—perfect. He cums again.

Kal drops to his knees, his tentacles slipping mournfully out of place as he goes. "Sorry, ohhgoo-lly…" His other hand, the one not choking Bruce, briefly jerks himself off as he spills cum all across the floor from every single tip.

"Gosh," Kal-El groans, eyes crossing as he keeps cumming. Bruce's thighs ache from how hard he's cumming, too.

Kal knocks their foreheads together, panting loudly, but yanks himself back when Bruce chokes on his own attempt to breathe.

"Sorry! Sorry, sorry, 'm so sorry, let me…" Kal lets go of his dicks. They contract and writhe, but Bruce's vision is quickly failing him to observe them any further than that.

Familiar, thick fingers work his mouth back open.

"Meant to pull out," Kal is murmuring, shushing him when Bruce spasms in his hold. "Just felt so good, Doc. 'm sorry… thought you could take it."

The egg is much easier to reach this time. The position made it so that Kal easily caught the thing with just his thumb pressed down on Bruce's windpipe. He nudges his finger up and down, trying to coax Bruce to dispel it even while his fingertips roam all around Bruce's cheeks, getting them lubed up so he can delve in deeper.

Bruce's throat has been fucked open for so long so far, that it hardly even makes a sound as Kal squeezes his fingers down it. His fingers are shaking. Bruce can feel the minute tremor in them.

He must be so worried about pressing too deep, using too much strength. Bruce could shatter if he forgets himself for even a moment, and the thought is so arousing that Bruce simply goes limp, encouraging Kal deeper to do whatever he pleases. He knows Superman won't hurt him.

"I got you," Kal-El says, gentle and sweet.

He catches the egg against the pads of his fingers and has to work it upwards before he can get a full grip around it. Bruce's throat obediently parts.

Bruce's eyes blink open as he's suddenly able to breathe. Just a tiny little opening has been made, but it's enough for cool, sterile air to flood his lungs. He coughs, tightening again and blocking the flow.

"Shh, shh…." Kal croons at him. "Just like that, Doc. I got you, you took it so well. Just like you promised me."

The air comes back as the egg is worked back up to his tonsils. Cum follows shortly after, bubbling out of Bruce's mouth in a sloppy mess. Kal wipes it away before any of it can get in Bruce's eyes, leaving Bruce with another perfect angle to just stare at him.

His heartbeat sounds like it's pounding directly against his eardrums as he watches how carefully Kal-El holds him. He fucked him so roughly, so perfectly, and now he's praising him for taking it, eyes nothing short of enamored as he eases the egg out to Bruce's tongue.

Once it gets that far, Kal helps him to sit up, fingers slipping away. Bruce chokes a little more, coughing hard but closing his teeth so that egg doesn't fall out.

Finally right-side up, Bruce sways listlessly. Kal is quick to twist him so that they're facing each other, holding a hand under his chin. He's still breathless as he softly asks, "Let me?"

"Mnngh…" Bruce eloquently responds, feeling how his muscles try to reflexively swallow again. He's able to stop himself from eating the egg all over again, but it's admittedly close.

The texture is strange. Soft all over, but retaining an oblong shape as Bruce presses the tip of his tongue along all sides. It tastes exactly like Kal's cum, but maybe that's just because Bruce's entire mouth tastes like that by now. The shell is sturdy, though, not breaking in the slightest at Bruce's examination.

He opens his mouth, tilts his head down so that his lips smear against Kal's palm, and lets his prize fall out without argument.

Kal thumbs against his chin as he does, smearing away drool.

Despite everything, Bruce still wants more.

He wheezes against Kal's hand when it doesn't pull away, and then blinks his eyes when Kal nervously lifts him by that touch to his chin, to make eye contact.

"All good?"

Bruce nods tacitly. Vaguely, he wonders if Kal wouldn't mind doing this again. Maybe even forever.

An image hits him then, Kal-El floating down to the roof of the hospital specifically for Bruce. Another memory of Superman tucking Bruce's hair from his face, then pinning it with a tiny little red-and-blue clip that he'd bought specifically for him.

Yet another of Kal smiling at him, just as he begins to do now, all sunlight and gentle warmth. His expression nothing short of being full of wonder at Bruce.

Neither of them realize Kal's thumb is still pressing against the thin part of Bruce's throat until Bruce tries to inhale deep and can't. That light pressure, exact and perfectly poised. He shivers as Kal rubs a tiny little semi-circle into his skin before he drops the touch once and for all.

"You did so good, Dr. Wayne. You aren't hurt are you? I know I lost a little control at the end—I'm sorry. We can be—should be done with this now. Come here…"

Kal gently deposits the egg on top of Bruce's clipboard, which miraculously hasn't been kicked off the bed in the excitement. The sample is probably getting mildly contaminated by the paper, but Bruce will figure it out later.

Or get a new one.

Either way, he just hums softly as Kal wraps his strong arms around him and lifts until he's gathered Bruce in his lap, carefully wiping his face clean all over again.

Bruce's body is tingly and warm. He nuzzles in against Kal's skin, forgetting himself, and gently mouths at Kal's chest, just above his nipple.

Kal makes an aborted noise at the touch, the gentle sucking, but is soft as he nudges Bruce back, letting them meet eyes again.

"Kal," Bruce mumbles before Kal can admonish him. "Need you."

"I'm right here," Kal hurries to console him, as if Bruce has just burst out crying. "Not going anywhere, let's just sit like this, alright? That was so much for you…"

Bruce huffs. "Need more. We still have experiments to test."

His hands only shake a little bit as he plants them flat on Kal's chest, though Kal doesn't let him wriggle out of his hold very far. Oh well, Bruce will make do.

His knees, which had tucked themselves against Kal's lap, spread to reveal his ruined uniform. He'll probably have to burn the thing after this, it'll never get disinfected enough.

He yanks at his shirt until Kal acquiesces and helps him shake it from his arms.

Bruce only hesitates when it comes to the bottoms, hand hovering over the knotted strings keeping it taut against his waist.

"Kal-El," Bruce says softly, almost sensuously. It's hard for him to control his tone as buzzed as he feels off of Kal's aphrodisiac. But he means every single word as he says, "I want you in me. My… hole is so—so empty. Can you give it to me one more time?"

Kal swallows so heavily, it's like watching an avalanche. He hovers his hand over Bruce's body, nervous to touch without permission.

Bruce leans up, into it, and moans when fingers immediately clamp onto his inner thigh.

"Please?"

Bruce finds himself eased onto his back, Kal shadowing him like the sun in front of the moon. He shakes when Kal's hand cups against the heat between his legs, curiously nudging against the distinct lack of a bulge down there.

"You sure?" Kal asks, breath hot against Bruce's neck. He doesn't let his lips press down there, hovering exactly two centimeters away from it, but he's so close that Bruce can just imagine his tongue sliding across his sweaty skin, tasting the pure want seeping from his every pore.

"Yes," Bruce gasps. "Yes, Kal—yes."

Kal undoes the simple tie of the last part of his uniform, and helps Bruce to shove the pants down his legs. As the skin gets revealed, Kal sits up to watch it unashamedly, eyes flickering as Bruce reveals his slit to him.

He's coated in slick below the belt, having cum twice already, and his thighs make an embarrassing wet noise as they slide together, as Bruce kicks the scrubs off all the way, and then another sound as they fall back apart.

Kal's eyes are stuck on his slit, on the lightly curled, dark hair covering his mound, and on the t-dick only partially hidden beneath that. It twitches, once, as Bruce nervously shifts his weight from one hip to another.

The warm hand brushing directly across his labia comes as a surprise, and Bruce humps into it as soon as it registers.

"If you don't want—"

"Want it," Kal says, voice thick. "Want you so bad, Doc. Can I really?"

Bruce simply has to nod once, and then Kal is upon him like rain across a field. He leans himself across Bruce's front, so close that if he turned his head their lips would brush. When his fingers pass across Bruce's swollen, weeping hole, Bruce wraps his arms around Kal's shoulders, just to hold on. Kal-El holds him back with his free arm, hooking it across the wide expanse of Bruce's back.

"Kal," he murmurs right against Kal's ear. Letting his voice sink into his brain and, hopefully, entice him in. "Fuck me."

"Dr. Wayne," Kal breathes in return. "Ohh, Rao. Dr. Wayne…"

Kal bites him. It's just a little nibble, but it's one that has Bruce melting until he's nothing but putty in Kal's hands. His thighs spread apart, to allure those thick fingers in him so that he can finally, blessedly take all five of those wonderful cocks in him, but Kal is distracted just by touching.

"You're so warm here…" Comes his heated voice, against Bruce's collarbone. Three fingers have poised themselves right against his clit, mapping out the length of it. "Soft…"

Kal sucks a hickey onto his skin, overlapping the tiny little circular bruises that already mark Bruce as his. When Bruce begins to desperately hump against him, Kal is merciful atleast. He slips those three fingers directly into him and curls them, feeling how Bruce's insides clamp down so intensely that he can't move further than the second knuckle.

"Kal…!"

"Need to stretch you," Kal purrs, voice nothing short of sultry. "So soft and warm and tight. I won't be able to control myself inside you."

"Then don't," Bruce groans, head falling back against Kal's bicep. "Fffuuck—"

Kal straightens his fingers inside and thrusts them, just a few times to ease the way Bruce's cunt has clamped itself down against him, pulsating as if it were trying to milk an orgasm out just from the penetration alone.

"'s that good?" Kal stares right at him, stares at every reaction. Bruce shakes as he, already, feels close to cumming again. Christ, what is Kal doing to him? Everything feels so good, and Bruce is so overcome with it that he wants to drown.

"Mhm," Bruce pants, biting his lip to stop those mortifying, whorish noises from overflowing. Kal doesn't seem to mind, simply adjusting his angle so that he can thrust upwards next, right across Bruce's sensitive g-spot. It's like his fingers were made to touch it, caress it; made to bring only the utmost pleasure to Bruce's body.

"Yeah—uhhnn, Kal—!" Bruce sobs. "Th—haah… th-there!"

Kal keeps thrusting against that spot, the same angle each time. Fuck, the precision is so intense. Bruce couldn't shy away from it even if he wanted to.

Just before he cums, Kal slows.

"Nooo," Bruce gasps wetly. "Need it, Kal please. Please, please, please—"

Kal shushes him softly. "Just a second. Won't stop again, I promise."

When he pulls his fingers out, despite Bruce's petulant sigh, they both watch as his fingers drip Bruce's arousal. It spreads messily right back across Bruce's slit, and Kal licks his lips.

He brings his fingers up and slurps them so licentiously that Bruce feels his face go hot. The noises he makes, simply at the taste, as if he's been deprived of it and is getting a fix after years. Kal doesn't stop until every single drop of Bruce's essence has been swallowed down.

When he pulls away, his mouth is still open. His eyes, locked on Bruce's pussy.

He slides down the bed, already hoisting Bruce up by his hips so that he can get to the source.

"Kal."

"Can I?" Kal asks, face already diving for it. "J-just a second, okay? Just need to..."

Kal's lips circle Bruce's needy clit and suck gently. Bruce cries out as if he's been struck, back arching because—fuck, his mouth is so hot. It's like rutting against a vibrator that has been on its highest setting for an hour too long.

As if hearing the thoughts, Kal hums. It sends a resonant thrum right across Bruce's most sensitive of nerve endings, and his entire state of being is reduced to Kal's mouth on him.

His thighs clamp down, reflexively trying to shut down such intense stimulation. All it serves to do is make Kal moan into him, tongue lazing out of his mouth to slither directly into Bruce's empty hole.

"Kal!" Bruce cries out again. His head swims, idly wondering if he'll ever be able to say anything more than Kal-El's name again.

Fingers join his tongue. Those blessed, powerful, thick fingers back shove into him, building up more slick to coat Kal-El's tongue. He doesn't stop until enough of it has flowed out to rival a small tidal wave. Bruce's entire body jolts when Kal retracts his tongue, only to lap at Bruce's neglected dick as if to apologize that he can't suck it at the same time.

The entire time, he mumbles little, sweet nothings under his breath. Whispering gospel right into Bruce's body.

Bruce can't take it. He really can't, he needs more in him and Kal is just… just…!

"Fuck me already," he babbles, voice breaking with the effort. "Kal, I want your cocks in me. Stop teasing."

"But you taste so good," Kal-El whines back at him, voice muffled. "Can't stop—promised."

Another moan, another rush of wet heat sliding across Bruce's dick. Kal's so messy with it, letting his drool drip freely just so that the lewd, sodden slide of his tongue is that much more intense. Bruce rides it as best he can, the angle difficult to move his hips against. Kal's hand is flat against the small of his back, though, and he keeps moaning encouragingly every time Bruce knocks his clit against his lips.

"Wanna cum on your cock," Bruce begs, as sweetly as he can. "Don't you want me to? I'll be good, I'll be a tight hole for you to fuck however you want, I'll take all your eggs—beg for them. As many as you want, deep inside me. Right here."

Bruce lays his hand against the plane of his stomach, and Kal's eyes turn from sapphire to ruby, just on the outer edge of his iris. He yanks his face back, licking himself clean as far down as his jaw before he uses his palm to scrub away the rest.

Then he's shifting onto his knees, hand planting itself on the bed beside Bruce, to give him what he's begging for.

"Yes," Bruce's voice spills out of him in a pleased hiss. "'m ready—you prepped me enough. I need it, Kal—don't make me beg more."

Kal's tentacles flex themselves across the soft of Bruce's inner thighs as Kal slots himself into place. He makes a primitive noise from the back of his throat as he lifts Bruce up, letting Bruce's legs overlay across his dense, solid thighs.

It angles him perfectly to take Kal inside of him.

Bruce reaches down to spread himself, hesitating only for a moment to rub Kal's drying spit across his dick with his middle finger. He sighs, pleased, as wisps of pleasure flow through him, keeping him right on that cusp.

Kal, though, gets a troubled look in his eye. He blinks at Bruce with his big, blue eyes, all sad like a puppy dog, and settles back on his haunches.

"We shouldn't," he mutters. "I shouldn't, not like this."

Even as he says this, his eyes are seemingly transfixed on the way Bruce plays with himself, fingers dipping lower to spread the wet from his hole up higher, letting it coat his clit again.

"Why not?" Bruce hums, tucking his free hand beneath his knee and purposefully spreading himself wide, baring everything to Kal's hungry gaze.

"Won't be able to stop once I'm in you," Kal explains desperately. "Want you so bad—p-please, tell me you really want this. I don't… couldn't, if you don't mean it."

"I mean all of it," Bruce confirms. "I promise."

"The aphrodisiac," Kal implores, shaking his head. When he begins to pull his hips back, Bruce snarls at him and drops his legs until they've wound all the way around him, ankles circling against the small of Kal's back. Superman would be able to yank away if he really wanted to, but Kal pauses obediently, eyes teary at just the thought of Bruce not wanting this as badly as he does.

The aphrodisiac effect is actually quite interesting. Bruce feels oddly calm with it, happy and relaxed like he'd never had a single pain in his life. Idly, he wonders if Kal is feeling the same towards his own secreted substance, if it's even a possibility.

It's similar to a mild high, or as if he'd taken a few shots to relax. Nothing like what he'd expected: fire under his skin that encouraged him to shove three, four, five fingers in himself to abate the pyre.

And while he may want Kal to do that for him again later, after he's finally been fucked, Bruce simply feels… pleasantly horny. It's a low grade stimulant, perhaps. or maybe less effective on humans. Perhaps Kal, somehow, is holding it back as well, making it less potent. Bruce will have to run more tests in the future to get a clear answer.

In the meantime…

"I want you, Kal," Bruce says, stressing each word. "Want this, I swear. I'll say it again if I have to—however many times you need."

He plants his hands down on the bed to shove himself to sitting, even if he makes his hips pull away from Kal's tentacles a few inches. He grabs Kal by the back of his neck and pulls him in, until the tips of their noses touch.

"I want you, Kal-El. Could… could you let me be selfish and have you?"

A tentacle swipes eagerly across his labia, coating itself in his slick. Kal's hips shift forward at the sensation.

"Please," Bruce whimpers, when Kal doesn't move further than that.

"Bruce…"

It's the first time he's said his name—his first name—since they've met. Kal's arms slowly come to border him again, fingers tangling in the frizzy ends of Bruce's hair just to play with it. Then he presses their chests together, ever so careful not to crush him or cut off his breathing; eyes shifting as he stares deep into Bruce's, memorizing every swirl of color in his irises.

Whatever he finds lying in the depth of Bruce's soul, he seems to accept as honesty.

"Bruce," Kal calls for him again, soft, lifting himself that his cocks can finally find their place against him. A couple wire themselves around Bruce's inner thighs, one slots against his hole and simply lays its length across it. Another goes beneath him, lost between the bedsheets and the curve of his ass.

"Yeah," Bruce encourages, voice thick like warm caramel. "I want you, Kal. Don't you want me?"

"Bruce," Kal's voice shakes. "I want you so badly."

"You can have me," Bruce implores. "I'm right here. I'm waiting, Kal—give me your cocks. Let them fuck me until my body remembers the shape of it, until I can't walk without feeling you splitting me o-ohh-pen…!"

Kal slowly sinks himself inside, unable to resist the lure of Bruce's words.

The one across his slit eases itself in, curving smoothly across Bruce's inner walls as if it always belonged there. Bruce glances down, but he can hardly see—only feel. It searches around, wiggling languidly this time compared to the rest of the frantic movements, until it feels how Bruce's insides give around it, letting it take what it pleases.

The fingering was probably useless, beyond letting Kal get a taste of Bruce's cunt. The tentacles have it handled. Bruce's toes curl as a second tentacle joins the first, feeling around his cunt to test the stretch of it, before it, too, slides home.

"Kal—" Bruce shakes his head, overstimulated. He doesn't say anything further, because he doesn't want it to stop. He simply knocks his head against Kal's shoulder, inhaling deeply that natural, alien scent of Kal's: ozone and sunlight and cloudy skies.

"So perfect for me, Bruce," Kal softly praises him, just as the third cock knocks against his clit. It's the one in the middle, the ovipositor. Bruce's entire body shakes at the implication, as the protrusive tip tries to find space next to the other two. "Want you to feel all of me…"

Bruce nods, voice lost. He simply jerks his head, 'yes yes yes yesss', as it slowly penetrates him, easing him open further than any toy ever has. Three cocks are going to be so much in him, and Bruce wonders how his throat didn't break when it had been split by all five.

He doesn't have much time to ponder. The other two tentacles have found themselves wanting.

His head falls back just as one ruts the girth of itself across his asshole, the tip nowhere near the furl of it but the threat still abound. Bruce gasps into the open air, now able to blink up at the ceiling instead of having his eyes pressed against Kal's throat.

Kal is unyielding above him, all thick muscles and enamored gazes. He watches, eyes hardly blinking, the way Bruce's sweat builds and pools across his chest, his collarbones. He doesn't even realize his dicks have snuck themselves against the cleft of Bruce's ass until Bruce gasps again for it, cunt tightening reflexively as a skinny tip nudges itself against his other hole.

"Ohhrr—Rao," Kal grunts, balancing himself on an elbow to force his fingers between them, following the planes of Bruce's body until he's able to catch the tentacle just before it pikes itself inside Bruce's rim. "Sorry, ahhn… s-sorry."

Bruce shakes his head, nearly mewling at the loss as Kal successfully stops the tentacle in its tracks, tugging the thing back out and nudging it against Bruce's thigh. When it immediately tries again, to neither of their surprise, Kal presses two fingers against Bruce's defenseless hole and goes rigid there, head burying itself against Bruce's chest.

Bruce makes another soft, weak sound for it, especially when Kal's heavy fingertip nearly plunges itself inside as the two forgotten tentacles try to slip between his grip. Bruce will happily let it happen—whatever goes in him first he will gladly welcome.

Kal apologizes again, voice breaking with the effort of holding back the most eager parts of himself. Bruce doesn't get a chance to respond, to beg him to let it happen, because the cocks that have successfully made their way in his cunt suddenly twist together in that way that they do.

"G-ahh!" Bruce moans. "Oh my gohhd—!"

They form a thinner shaft than they had when all five had twined themselves together in Bruce's throat, but it's still so much. He has no idea how he hadn't broken from it. The new shaft curves itself purposefully, so that it bumps against his g-spot every time it bottoms out without Kal having to even move a muscle.

"Gonna cum," Bruce's voice stumbles out of him, words slurring together uselessly. "Ggahh, g-ggonnaaa…!"

Kal loses the battle, fingers weakening just enough that the tentacles can spread them, shove them out of the way. He hisses as Bruce's hole is stretched by two alien tips with one goal in mind, fucking him wide open.

"Unngh…!" Kal moans with him. "Sorry…!"

Bruce squeezes his thighs tight against Kal's waist, clinging for the ride as his ass slowly widens to accept the tentacles inside of him. The little game that Kal's fingers had played had made his rim nice and wet and soft for it, precum spreading messily. And Bruce is so damn relaxed from the aphrodisiac that there isn't a single issue as his ass, for the first time, gets penetrated.

Bruce grabs onto Kal, arms circling his shoulders, and he buries his face against him again to hide the debauched expression he must be making. He can't help it, especially not when those tentacles also decide to tangle together into one. His chest trembles with the effort of holding back his needy, desperate sobbing.

"Kal," he gasps against his lover's skin. "Ka-ahhgodd, Kal…!"

Kal's jaw works as he tries to control himself. Bruce can feel the muscle tensing and relaxing against his temple, where his head had limply fallen against. The only reason he hasn't gone limp all over is because his limbs seem stuck, clinging to Kal like an animal.

Kal's hands, now useless at stopping anything, have clamped onto his hips to keep him there, thankfully. He squeezes down, just enough for Bruce to feel the pressure, and pants against the shell of his ear. He twists, laying a soft little kiss against where his hairline meets his helix.

"Bruce," he grunts. "Is it—okay? It… does it hurt?"

Bruce shakes his head as the dicks in his ass slowly, methodically, begin to lengthen and contract. Like a piston, they work themselves to their full girth, only to slowly stretch out out out until they've thrust in as deep as possible, all without having to pull out a single inch. It's so strange—it's so good.

Bruce is stuck on the precipice of an orgasm that threatens to shatter his mind, and all he can do is desperately hump against it, trying to convince Kal without words to fuck him deeper.

Kal's touch, one hand, slides itself up, curling around his back until he's lifted Bruce nearly off the mattress. That touch, and the way Bruce's legs have chained themselves to his hips, are the only thing keeping them both steady.

There's only four tentacles fully inside of him, though.

The fifth one announces itself with a flick across Bruce's dick. He can tell, just by the heat of it, that it's the ovipositor again. The tip is opening up once more, almost able to suckle itself against Bruce's most sensitive appendage. But then it slips further down, circling like a bumblebee around a flower's dripping nectar.

The other two lengths inside of him don't bother making room, as if they know Bruce's body will give easily.

And it does.

"Ahh!"

Bruce's head tips back, falling against the bed as he cries out weakly. The cock sinks into him with little fanfare, stretching him that much further. Kal's voice is deep and warm in his ear, but Bruce honestly doesn't register the words at all—he just blinks as his vision goes entirely white, cunt filled to the absolute brim. Would he ever be able to take Kal's dicks all at once?

Bruce doesn't have the time to hypothesize further. The tentacles pick up their pace again, before the third has even found its own place. They undulate and flex, excitedly wiggling in comparison to the deliberate way the ones in his ass are working him open. The conflicting feelings just break Bruce even more.

He doesn't realize he's cumming until Kal yanks him by that grip on his hips, fucking himself deeper with a ragged, hoarse, "Bruce…!" on his tongue.

Bruce's pussy gushes his orgasm out, not necessarily squirting, but it's close enough that Kal must feel the rush soaking his skin. They both breathe unevenly at it, one lost to the cresting climax and the other keeping himself still so that he can bask in the tight hole clamping down on him all over.

"Hhhaah," Kal pants noisily. "Hh-hold on… Nnhh, B-Bruce, hold on, okay? I can't—anymore—"

Kal humps him desperately, whining. He's mumbling apologies again, for what reason Bruce has no clue until—

"Shit!" Bruce shrieks as the, until then, calm lengths in his ass kick up in speed, intensity, vigor. They begin to plow themselves in and out, just as roughly as the ones fucking his cunt. Something warm, intensely so, fills him up—Kal's cum. It's almost hot, unbearably so, but the temperature quickly bleeds out into something bearable as it spreads all around inside of him. Just like it had with his throat, it clings stubbornly everywhere it coats, leaving Bruce reeling with the sensation of pure warmth flooding his pussy.

Kal came in him, just like that.

He goes limp, but Kal catches him, helping his limbs to fall comfortably on the bed even as his cocks send him straight to nirvana. Despite cumming, he doesn't falter by a single millimeter, Kal keeps fucking until the cum has frothed up inside and begins to squelch out messily from Bruce's stuffed hole.

"Sorryyy," Kal whimpers all over again. "Sorry they're so rough, Bruce—you're taking it so perfectly for me. My perfect hole… letting me have you like this, like you were made for it."

The mumbled, filthy words just make Bruce float higher. He nearly giggles from the amount of ecstasy that hits him, but he's just barely able to rein it in for his own dignity. Bruce twists himself, nearly out of Kal's grip until those large hands circle his hips again and tug him back into place.

"Hhah, 's soo t-tight," Kal moans for him. "How are you still so tighh-nnghhht…"

His dignity doesn't last long. Bruce's chest aches for a moment as he holds his breath, and then his eyelashes get heavy as thick, overstimulated tears build up all at once. He writhes again in Kal's hold, spine arching off of the bed as he sobs for it.

Though, he can't be sure in the moment if it's for more or less.

Sluggishly, Bruce cries for it. He doesn't bother trying to stop it, not when it feels so good to weep on Kal's cocks. It's all so intense, Bruce can't help but feel everything, down to each brush of his body against Kal's, each thrust of the alien dicks in him. If he wasted energy wiping his face clear, he'd probably pass out.

Actually—it's definitely more. He's crying for more, for all that Kal has to give him.

"Want it," Bruce murmurs, blinking his teary eyes. "Want it, want it—cum in me again, Kal."

Kal presses his lips against Bruce's eyelids, kissing away the tears even as his hips ceaselessly pound into him. The sound is so lewd, little 'plap plap plap's that have Bruce reaching down, feeling along Kal's body until he can dig his fingers into his hips on one side, to hang on for the ride.

Kal licks his lips, still pressed directly against Bruce's skin. Then he suckles Bruce's cheek into his mouth, briefly chuffing at the salty taste of his tears.

A laugh bubbles out of his chest, decidedly not a giggle this time. Bruce allows it as he shuts his eyes, palming across Kal's chest with his free hand. Thick. When he grapples lower, he's able to feel how Kal is flexing with each shove into his tight holes, and that just makes Bruce drop his touch faster, until he's able to yank two fingers into his overstuffed hole and tug it open, granting the tentacles more room to do what they want with his insides. The cum is still sticky and thick inside him.

When he feels the fingertips shimmying against his prehensile flesh, Kal yanks himself back. Bruce blinks a few times, suddenly getting more light now that Kal isn't hiding him from sight with his big body.

He clears his vision just in time to watch Kal grab him by the backs of his knees and yank upward, until he has Bruce fully bent in half. To watch.

They two of them morph into nothing more than animalistic grunts and filthy, unintelligible words. Bruce trembles as he fingers himself in time with the tentacles in him.

"So full," Kal groans. "I stuffed you so full, Bruce."

Confused, Bruce simply blinks at him until he realizes Kal isn't looking at his face anymore. Instead, he's staring purposefully, intensely, at Bruce's stomach. Bruce is just barely able to sit himself up, legs crooked over Kal's inclined shoulders, to see.

And—fuck. His belly is bulging with it. They both watch, breathless, as the tentacles make a prominent bump inside him, and maybe some of the cum too. Bruce has been stuffed so absolutely full of it all that he's just turned into a toy for—for the tentacles, for Kal, and for everything else in between.

"Can you take a little more?" Kal hums, words strengthening. "Take my eggs for me, again? You'll keep them nice and warm inside you for me, won't you?"

Bruce nods dumbly for it, one of the only things he can do at the moment. "G-gonna chhm… c-cum… again…!"

Kal bends him back over. With his legs trapped as they are, Bruce gets bent fully in half by it, head jolting limply with every rough, passionate thrust. Kal accepts the answer as it is, though, keeping Bruce's knees hooked over his shoulders as he presses their faces back together.

"Me too," Kal promises. "Gonna cum in you, Bruce. Gonna claim your insides as mine."

Nails dig into Kal's bicep as Bruce gasps wetly, clinging to him as best he can. His lungs wheeze in protest, but his body goes tense all over again.

He cums once more.

Kal groans loudly at the sensation, panting heavily right against Bruce's trembling mouth. His poor, overwhelmed pussy practically squirts against him all over again, both holes going from pliant and fucked open, to tight and wanton all at once. Slick gushes out of him freely, and Kal feels it all.

Bruce's mouth is so empty, though. It looks so lonely, feels bare pressed right up against Kal's. If he just leans in it'd be—almost—a kiss. A lovely little, open-mouthed kiss, one that Kal wants to taste so badly.

Maybe the aphrodisiac is finally starting to hit him too. They haven't fully tested if it's a possibility.

Kal feels Bruce breathe against him, right against his tongue, and he can't resist anymore.

He slots their lips together, swallowing down the sweet, gasping noises Bruce makes in response. His tongue darts out of his open mouth to lap at Kal's, which also hangs heavy past his lips. He can't help it, Bruce just tastes too good. From his lips, to his delicious cunt. It tastes—like him, like Kal has properly claimed him. He can still taste the cum right against his cheeks.

Just one kiss should be okay, right? Just the one…

Kal doesn't pull away, tentacles flailing excitedly inside of Bruce as he encourages Bruce's tongue into his mouth, breath hitching each time Bruce's laps across the roof of his mouth.

He hardly notices when the egg slides down his shaft—but Bruce does. He flexes his legs, though they don't move at all with how Kal has them pinned, and his eyes slowly roll into the back of his head as his hole stretches.

It's, somehow, thicker this time, the shell sturdier as if it knew it was going in a cunt instead of a throat. Maybe the excitement had built up a more viable egg for Bruce to take, or, maybe, Kal was just feeling it that much more after wringing orgasm after orgasm from his precious lover. He honestly can't be sure either way, and neither does he care.

Kal dumps the egg into him, thrusting a handful of times more just to help the tentacles shove it in as nice and deep as it can go, right against Bruce's cervix.

Bruce makes a noise as it presses heavily against the sensitive anatomy, something nervous as if Kal would actually let it hurt him. Kal slowly slots himself back out with a soft tremble, before Bruce can worry for too long.

"One more?" He mumbles against Bruce's tongue, before the first egg has even fully settled. "Take one more for me, okay?"

Kal can feel it at the base of his cock. The ovipositor is still open at the tip, drizzling warm cum all across Bruce's slit that it hangs limply over. If Bruce can feel the droplets, he barely twitches this time.

Instead, he nods, grabbing himself by the backs of his thighs to keep himself wide open for it. "Yeah. Wan' it—wanna take it. Wanna be yours."

"Mine," Kal growls, a need flaring within him with the strength of a volcanic eruption. "Mine, mine, mine—"

He thrusts into his ass. Bruce cries out as it happens, assaulted by pinpoint pleasure across the nearly-forgotten nerve endings.

Two tentacles stay slotted in his cunt, but Kal shifts just so, enough that the thick ovipositor can slide itself home in Bruce's stretched hole. The tentacles already there have stopped moving, as if to welcome the intrusion like it always belonged there. They pull themselves in opposite directions against Bruce's inner walls, to stretch him that much more from deep inside. Bruce sobs at the intense feeling, trembling for it, and Kal kisses him again to ease some of that ache.

The second egg comes, unsurprisingly, quick. It's already nudging itself against the stretched taut hole, slipping right past the paltry resistance that Bruce's rim tries to put up, and settling itself just as deep as the other.

Bruce's thighs tremble, and Kal curves his palms around the thick of them to massage away the shakes. Kal doesn't even have to focus on thrusting for this one, the tentacles have it all handled.

He kisses wherever he can now, the edge of Bruce's knee, his ankle, the fingers the reach up and grapple for his shoulder.

"Bruce," Kal sighs happily.

Bruce sags, relaxed, as the tentacles slow inside of him. He's so beautiful, fucked out and entirely satisfied. Any tense muscles in him have been thoroughly eased down until he's practically melting. His eyes are lost, gaze easy and calm as Kal leans forward to kiss his mouth. Just to make sure Bruce knows he's still there.

Bruce makes a little noise, an encouraging one, and kisses him back.

Kal sits up again, joy flitting in and out of his chest like a bird that has escaped its cage. He nuzzles his head across Bruce's neck, his chin, and doesn't stop until Bruce snorts at him tiredly.

His hips shift uncomfortably, still cranked open as far as they can go to fit the Kryptonian build between them. Kal eases himself up to give him space, but Bruce reaches out a hand and holds him by the back of his neck.

"C'mere," Bruce hums, voice light in a way Kal has never heard. "Kal-El."

"Mm." If Bruce calls for him that sweetly, how could he not eagerly respond?

Kal carefully lifts Bruce from the wet spot in the bed, leaning back back back until Bruce is able to get his knees situated on either side of Kal's hips. It makes him sink down just an inch more on Kal's dicks, but he's suddenly on a mission, it seems, and hardly notices beyond the fluttering of his insides readjusting for it.

"Open."

Bruce dances his fingers across Kal's panting mouth, and Kal is quick to open it up farther in response. Confused, but eager.

"Mm," Bruce purrs, pleased. "Now, taste."

Kal is startled to realize that Bruce's mouth is genuinely still filled with cum in a way. He hadn't realized, focused more on sucking on Bruce's tongue.

Though it isn't as thick as before, a strong layer of it drools out of him as he spreads Kal's lips, to accept the offering. A fingertip hooks against Kal's cheek, spreading his lips further to ensure that he properly accepts the gift Bruce is bestowing upon him.

Kal moans as it hits his tastebuds, carefully keeping his jaw cracked, tongue fully out, so that Bruce's fingers can explore as they like. Bruce thrusts them in and out, purposefully knocking right against Kal's drooling tongue to spread around the white spend.

"I want to see if it makes you feel like this too," Bruce explains woozily. Seemingly drunk off the stuff. "Like I feel. It's good, right?"

"Mhm," Kal sighs, blissfully. He traces the edges of Bruce's fingers with his tongue, dipping between to make sure he savors every drop. Once there's nothing left for him to suck clean, he closes his mouth around the digits just to make sure Bruce doesn't pull away.

"Feels sooo good, hm?" Bruce encourages him. Kal nods, moaning for it.

They're still minutely grinding together, Kal realizes. Their bodies rock with each motion now that Bruce is above him, fingers still deep in his mouth. Heads almost entirely empty of thought, of anything beyond the feeling of their bodies connected together as they are.

Bruce grinds his hips down in little circles, and Kal sucks noisily on his fingers to encourage him to do it more.

The tips nudge against the very back of his throat, against where his gag reflex would be if he had one. As it stands, Bruce simply busies himself with mapping Kal's throat in a way no one else has been able to before.

"Again," Bruce orders, spreading his fingers. Kal's mouth parts, and Bruce leans in closer to pass along just a bit more of the cum that he'd been tasting this whole time.

An egg shifts and nudges against one of Kal's tentacles. It shies away from the stimulation, all worn out finally, and Kal hisses softly as he pulls his hips back.

The fuss causes another line of drool from Bruce's mouth to miss, dribbling out past Kal's lips instead. With a spoiled huff, Bruce grabs him by his jaw to keep him straight.

"Be still," he orders, running his fingers through the mess to gather it, and shoving them back in Kal's waiting mouth. "You spilled some."

The fingers begin to thrust in and out of him again, and Kal, entirely smitten by this new side of Bruce, takes it obediently.

"How does it feel?" Bruce asks after a moment. "Is your head empty?"

Kal nods, tipping his head back to encourage Bruce's fingers deeper again. Bruce huffs at him, amused, but keeps up the in-and-out slide of his fingers until Kal, too, goes all boneless. He'd be happy doing this for the rest of the day, the week, his life, as long as Bruce was the one keeping it up.

He comes back to himself when Bruce leans their foreheads together, looking him deep in his eyes.

"The aphrodisiac is more potent when inserted coitally," Bruce whispers to him, like it's a closely kept secret. "Remind me to put that in your chart."

Kal laughs, unable to help the joyful noise. Bruce, as loosened up as he is, laughs with him, finally letting his fingers drop so that they can simply cling to one another.

Kal makes sure to hold him gently, carefully angling them so that Bruce can rest his full body weight against Kal, letting him support it. He's been told in the past that he's pretty darn good at hugs.

"I feel so full," Bruce hums, listing to one side even as his cheek flattens itself against Kal's pectoral. He blinks his eyes slowly, seeming to focus on the feeling inside of him. "'s good."

Kal rubs his fingers up and down Bruce's back. "We should probably get those eggs out of you," he says mournfully. "Before… something happens."

"Mm…" Bruce shuts his eyes. "In a minute."

If Bruce feels how Kal's tentacles stir happily inside of him at that, and he surely does, Bruce doesn't say a word. He just basks, until he nearly falls asleep right against Kal-El.

Kal lets him rest in the meanwhile, simply happy that Bruce is allowing himself to rest for once.

Later, he'll have to finger Bruce back open (pointless now that he's been stretched so soundly on so many tentacles at once), carefully gathering those eggs that had been deposited as deep as possible in him. It'll be hard not to get distracted by the soft of Bruce's insides, and especially so by the breathy moans Bruce will grace him with, Kal is sure.

Maybe he'll be able to resist thrusting back into him, or maybe Bruce will welcome it with that rare, confident grin of his as if taking it as a challenge.

Either way, they'll have to leave the hospital eventually. Kal's ears open themselves back up to the general sounds of it, carefully noting how their floor seems to be empty of any of the hustle-and-bustle, thankfully. Hopefully nobody heard anything, Kal thinks with an embarrassed whine.

Bruce shushes him reflexively, patting Kal with a mumbled noise. Kal shushes him back, grinning once more as he lays a soft kiss against the crown of Bruce's hair.

Ah, well. It's nothing they won't be able to handle after one more round, once they've relaxed, maybe after Kal has scrounged up some water for Bruce.

But just one more round, Kal is sure of it this time!