Archive of Our Own

Sundays in Smallville are always slow.

Bart has learned to accept that. It's the day for relaxation. When chores are finished early and everyone spends the rest of the afternoon recuperating from a week of hard labor.

It's not so bad, he figures. He still gets to play with the cows and the chickens, and if he gives Conner enough quiet time, the other man is usually amenable to doing something fun later in the day.

Now though, Conner is officially in relaxation mode. Bart can tell from the sweatpants and t-shirt he's put on, having already stripped out of the jeans and flannel from earlier in the day. He's clean and warm from his recent shower - washing off the hard work of the morning - and Bart is on him the second the Kryptonian touches down in the barn loft.

"Woah! Hey there!"

Conner catches him with a startled laugh. He smells fresh and floral, a scent that would sweeten out with his natural musk, and Bart buries his nose in Conner's neck, drinking up the familiar aroma of the body wash like he had been starving for it.

Which he kind of had. The week had been long, the villains of Central City never resting. Between superhero life, work, and school, the there had been no time for any canoodling. Bart had been looking forward to his sleepy Smallville retreat come end of week.

He had missed his boyfriend.

"Shower took forever to heat up. Sorry you had to wait so long." Conner says as he walks them in further into the depths of the barn, then adds in a murmur to himself, "I might need to check the water heater."

Bart bristles. "Hey! No chore-talk past eleven-OOF!"

They tip onto a couch, and Bart wheezes as Conner's significantly larger mass lands atop him. Thankfully, its an old, plush thing, and rather than meet his maker under the Superman-sized weight, they sink in to it. 

"Lemme out, you big lug!"

Conner fakes a loud, exaggerated snore.

With a huff, Bart phases out the bottom of the couch - Conner squawks as he disappears - and throws himself on top instead. Its not that he doesn't like laying under Conner, its just sometimes it felt like too much. Too confined. He kicks his feet and wiggles his toes under Conner's calves and squirms and squirms. 

Its easier to get the energy out this way, and when Conner is really spaced out he usually doesn't even notice the fidgeting.

Right now however, Conner is most definitely not spaced, and wedges thick fingers in the ticklish spots at Bart's sides as punishment.

"Aak!" he squawks. "Stopstopstopstop!"

"Stay still!"

Bart beats his fists like a pattering storm against Conner's unyielding chest. "You first!" 

With a gigantic sigh, Conner relents. Whether its mercy or his readiness to sink into the couch and relax, Bart doesn't know, but Conner wraps heavy arms around him and Bart can't help but melt.

Much like the couch, everything about the loft was comfortable. Conner had been gradually fixing it up over the years. What had started out as a simple hangout spot above the hay bales, had over time morphed into a sort of home away from home. Though the farmhouse stood only a couple hundred feet away, it had become an escape for Conner, as he grew to be a young man that needed his own private space away from Ma and Pa.

It smelled like a warm mix or wood and grasses, and in the summertime, the breeze would carry the smell of sun-warm wheat through the wide windows. Nearly everything was second hand or homemade - well stocked with a pullout, mini-fridge, and a good portion of Conner's clothes hanging from a half sturdy dresser. String lights hung en masse from the rafters and an old box television crackled in the corner, all powered by solar panels Conner had installed on the roof.

Its that television Bart has his eye on now. He glances around and spots the remote on the coffee table in front of them, just close enough that if reaches his leg he can grab it with his toes-!

It slips from his grip, but rather than clatter to the floor, the remote hovers in a telekinetic hold. Conner pulls it the rest of the way over and drops it in Bart's outstretched hand.

"My hero," Bart drawls, and leans up to kiss his Superboy in thanks.

Conner mumbles a distracted "Mhmm," as he catches Bart there, pressing in, deepening their exchange. Interest piqued, Bart hums in response. The noise is muffled by Conner's tongue slipping into his mouth.

The man kissed as slow as the day was long, dragging Bart into the languid rhythm. Shivers race up Bart's spine as Conner catches his bottom lip in his mouth and sucks softly. He stuffs the remote behind the cushion under Conner's head, where it wouldn't fall, and sinks into his boyfriends embrace.

Bart kisses Conner, unfolds his hands on either side of his head and holds him, maps the larger boys mouth. Conner's head felt different. He likes the weight of it, solid and thick and square like his jaw.

Bart's pretty sure its different than his head. It feels certainly different than everyone else he's kissed - Carol and Cissie and Tim.

Maybe more like Rose's. They were both muscley and strong. Maybe that was it. Bart snickers against Conner's lips as he imagines his brain flexing big biceps with a full six pack. Maybe that's why his head was so heavy. All brawn no brain. Muscle was heavier after all…

Conner pulls away. "What?"

Bart has been told before he wasn't a very good kisser. Laughing while making out probably wasn't a good kisser thing to do.

"Muscle head," he says in lieu of explanation. Conner gives him an odd look, but doesn't question further.

Which was one of the things he appreciated most about his boyfriend. He doesn't have to explain his train of thought. Conner has gotten to the point where he accepts and understands the weird things Bart says sometimes, and Bart is more than thankful for the lack of judgment. Especially after a tough week being plain 'ole misunderstood.

Conner gives him one more peck on the lips before relaxing back on the couch with a sigh. He closes his eyes, not even bothering with the remote Bart so gracefully grabbed for them. 

Bart clicks his tongue and turns on something - a nature documentary. Perfect. Calm and slow, just like Smallville.

"Gonna take a nap?" prods Bart. Conner hums and gives a noncommittal shrug. Neither yes nor no.

Bart huffs and toes at the elastic of Conner's pant leg. The other man doesn't stir. Grumbling, Bart turns to watch the documentary.

As winter approaches, the grizzly prepares to hibernate for the season.

'As the afternoon approaches, the part-Kryptonian prepares to hibernate for the day.' Bart hides a snicker. 

He pictures Conner as a bear, big and burly. Though Conner wasn't very hairy. There was a soft smattering of it over his chest, and he could grow a pretty decent beard, but the thickest of it was on top of his head. 

Right now that hair is still wet from the shower, oil slick black and dampening the cushion. The curls at the front to sit in a heavy mop on Conner's forehead. Bart sticks a finger through the loops. They're a weird mix of cool from the air and warm from Conner's skin.

"Can I play with your hair?"

"Go 'head, baby. I'm just resting." Conner mumbles. Not opening his eyes, he reaches up and pets a clumsy hand down Bart's back, reassuring.

With a pleased hum, Bart sits up to get a better view - Conner's hands slip, down his shoulders, down to his hips, framing them softly. They were warm, warm and his hair cool, warm and the documentarian droned on slow, slow in the background while Bart slicked curls together. Occasionally, Conner's thumbs remember to rub sleepy circles against Bart's hips, but otherwise he remains committed to the act of resting there. Picture perfect, model straight.

Bart combs Conner's hair down with his fingers, aligning each and every wave side by side so eventually it was all pressed to the side, slicked over like a 20's finger wave and Conner the dashing gentleman. 

Psh. Yeah right. He was too much of a goof to be some debonair Fred Astaire.

Still, it was beautiful the way the gloss black dipped and peaked. Bart pinched his fingers over the upturns, sharpening the cut of each wave. The style looked good on Conner…

Conner, who was watching him from under dark lashes. Who had a fond smile on his face and didn't think Bart was weird for wanting to arrange each and ever one of his hairs in neat rows.

"You're hot," Bart blurts out.

Conner gives one of his dashing Superboy grins. "No, you."

Feeling warm, Bart goes back to his boyfriend's hair, gently tidying up the edges. The thumbs around Bart's hips pet into the jut of his bones, and Conner is still watching him with a soft smile that makes him squirm on the inside. 

"You look good." Bart decides. He sits up, takes in the whole picture. "Keep your hair like this."

Conner hums and drags his hands up Bart's waist, holding tight at the middle. "What's it look like?" 

"Swoosh swoosh. Finger curls, like Great Gatsby. We should get you a suit- a tuxedo," he corrects, so Conner knows specially what he's talking about. It had to be the full getup.

"Hmm," Conner hums again, smile not leaving his face.

"You'd look sexy."

"Oh really? Would you wear something for me then?"

"Sure. I want a suit, one with those really long tails in the back. And maybe a top hat.

Conner snorts. "No, I mean something sexy."

"Likewhat?"

"Um…." here, Conner's overconfident facade breaks a little. His cheeks pinken, and Bart love, love, loves this part of him. "Something tight. Bodycon dress."

Bart wouldn't mind wearing one of those. It would be hard to dance though. He kinda likes that Great Gatsby electro-swing music, or dancing to it at least. Conner would look good in a tight dress too. 

Bart brings his hands down to Conner's chest and gropes at the soft muscles. These would look best in a skintight dress. One cut low so Bart could see the sharp valley between his pecs.

He looks up and Conner is watching him and he hums "Mhmm!" because he cant remember if he said it out loud or if it was just in his head. Then, "Why're you looking at me? Go to sleep."

"What? I think you're pretty. I'm not allowed to look at you?"

"Nah, 's illegal. They just changed the rules."

"That so? Good thing I don't mind breaking them."

"You wanna have sex?"

Conner's brows raise. "That's not why I'm lookin' at you. But I'm not going to say no. You want to?"

"Yeah. Take your shirt off."

Its not the first time they've fucked in the loft, and it certainly wouldn't be their last. Ma and Pa couldn't climb up anymore, and it was unlikely any of the other Super-group would stop by on a lazy Sunday afternoon. 

Its that guaranteed privacy that gets Conner stripping off his shirt without complaint. He reaches behind him, pulling it off from the back in that burly, indelicate way some men did. Its sexy and manly and Bart's on him before it the shirt even hits the floor, taking his thick pecs in either hand and squeezing the muscle.

He loved how Conner could be so thick and solid, yet soft. In comparison, Bart was a small, tight string of muscle. It was difficult keeping up with his calorie count at times and as a result barely had a spec of fat on him, but at least his size was better for speed. The difference gave him all the more reason to appreciate Conner's juicy physic.

"Oh yeah, that's the stuff," Bart croons appreciatively. He bites into the meat of Conner's chest, sucking hard for a mark that would never come.

"Ay- calm down you little imp." Conner groans, but doesn't make any effort to stop him. Instead, he curls big hands back around Bart's hips and pulls until they're slotted together. He's not entirely hard, but the way he rocks against Bart's ass means it wont be long.

Grinning, Bart rolls his hips back. Conner lets out a low moan. The sound bubbles out of him openly, kindling a heat low in Bart's gut.

As horny teenager as it may feel, he loved rocking against the hard plane of Conner's core. Then Conner could fuck up against his butt, and making Kon hump stuff was one of his favorite things. He was big and needy and loud when he had something to just work his dick against - especially if that something was Bart.

"Sh-shit. That's it. You feel good, baby." Conner groans.

When Conner's hands are around him like this, it became less about Bart feeling good, and more about being used by the larger boy. Bart could get off fast and easy, sure, but it was another thing to watch Superboy desperately chasing his own pleasure. Conner works his hips up against Bart hard, big hands pulling and pushing the smaller boy back against his cock, mouth hanging open as little moans spilled out of him.

Bart liked it, but it wasn't sex in the traditional sense - was it? Did Conner count this as sex?

"Is this sex?" Bart blurts out. 

The question makes Conner stop, pull back. He does a couple hard blinks of his pretty blue eyes and his brows furrow like he cant quite process the question. "Wha… what? Having sex?"

"Are we having sex?"

"What the hell are you asking me right now? Do you want me to put it in your ass?"

"Noooo," Bart draws out. He doesn't understand what is so hard about the question. "Do you count this as sex?"

"I- yeah? I guess?"

"Even without the butt stuff?"

"Ugh!" Frustrated, Conner flips them so Bart is on his back and Conner feels big, big, big over him, wedged between his legs. He presses in with his hips, and they fit together distractingly. 

"Can you have a little less thoughts right now?" Conner whispers hot at his ear, and the heat crawls down Bart's throat, through his spine, and ignites in his loins.

It wasn't that sex was uninteresting. He could just think about a lot of things at once. Keeping one at the forefront of his mind required a lot of focus. Conner rolls their hips together and Bart arches against him, fingers a hole in the couch fabric, sings along to the commercial jingle playing over the TV in his head.

Was that normal?

"Sorry."

"Its okay baby." Conner runs his lips over Bart's cheeks, kissing softly along the way. "You wanna do the butt stuff?"

"Nuh-uh." 

He pushes until Conner turns back over and Bart straddles his hips once again. What they had been doing had before had been fun, and Bart wanted Conner's hands back on him. He grinds his ass against the larger boys erection and is rewarded with an appreciative groan.

Catching on quick, Conner's hands come up to frame Bart's hips. Both of them move together, a measured push-pull guided by Conner's determined direction. He leans up, lips searching against Bart's chest until he can find a nipple to lick over. The fabric of Bart's shirt wets under Conner's ministrations, and Bart shudders as it scrapes gently against the hardening bud. 

"Oooh Conner," whines Bart. 

He rolls his hips and is rewarded with a hard suck. Even through the t-shirt, the feel of Conner's tongue curling against his chest sends heat down Bart's spine. Conner had always been blessedly mouthy, and he was good with It too.

Bart tips his head back, luxuriating in the attention. From the corner of his eye, he registers a weird pattern across the television and, attention wandering, turns to look.

Ah. Birds.

Hundreds of them, taking up the screen.

He jolts as Conner bites at his neck. A hot tongue follows, soothing over the spot, and Bart melts. There's a hard cock rutting up against his ass and the desperation feels liquid nice.

Yeah. Mutton bird or something? He caught up with their migration at the tip of the Pacific once. Glimmering in the sun, black like an oil spill. Bart runs his hand up the back of Conner's head, nails scratching the short hairs there–

Ak! The hair! The beautiful waves he had worked on separate, a single curl falling over Conner's forehead.

Superman curl. Bart snickers.

"You getting distracted again?" Conner groans.

Oops. He cringes, then bats his eyes. "Who me? Never."

Conner's mouth twists up in an unamused frown as he huffs. "Seriously?… How about this, lemme give you your first one. I'll even be sweet about it." 

His fingers slide easily under the baggy waist of Bart's jeans and pet at the skin below. Well, Bart couldn't say no to that. 

"Yeah, yeah. Gimme."

Conner undoes the fastenings to Bart's jeans, easing pants and boxers down just enough to pull out his cock. Bart hisses at the contact. He's sticky-wet from the precome he leaked all over his boxers, and it slicks the way as Conner drags a fist over him.

"Shirt off?" Conner requests, nosing at the fabric. "Come'on, gimme some skin pretty boy."

"When you ask so nicely..."

Bart tosses his shirt across the room and Conner is on him in an instant. Hungry, he sucks at the nipple he had been teasing earlier. Bart hisses at the pinch of his teeth and the tacky pull his hand.

"Lube, lube," he grunts.

Without pulling away, Conner blindly fishes one of their frequently visited bottle of lube out from behind the couch cushions. He pours it over his hand, slicking the way as he drags over Bart's cock. The frictionless slide lets Conner move superspeed fast - being so sweet to him - and Bart gasps.

"Oh!"

"Come on," Conner grunts, working quickly. "Come for me babe. I got'chu, come on."

"Hng!" Bart lurches. The quickness feels natural, right – the rush greets him like jumping into a cool pool on a hot day. Disorienting shock, then blessed relief. He chokes on nothing and feels the wave of impending orgasm crash.

"Conner! Yes!" Bart gasps. 

He comes between them, painting his stomach. A strong hand holds him still as he shakes, holds him down against the hard cock still rocking against him through the seams of their pants.

There's no reprieve. Conner thumbs the spongy head of Bart's dick, milking him with a firm, warm grip that makes Bart feel like hes throbbing- could Conner feel him throbbing? Was just the blood rushing through his ears, or was it like, all of him- Static lightning shoots up his back, and Conner's hot breath is groaning at his ear. "Gimme another?"

"Ohgodfuck-"

Time rubber bands tight around Bart, and its almost like Conner's superspeed rubber bands with it. Bart goes from satiated, to sharply oversensitive, to hard again in the span of a breath, jerking in Conner's lap. He curls fingers into Conner's biceps, nails digging, testing impenetrable skin. The Kryptonian fists Bart hard, matching him. Conner is solid and stabilizing and bringing him crashing back up to orgasm so quickly his ears pop with static.

"A-ah!"

Just as Bart felt time pull, he feels the snap back rushing in his ears. Pleasure races through him, lighting sharp, hitting all at once. Its fast, even for him. Overstimulation crackles knife sharp though his body, but he still manages to make a mess between them, whimpering. 

Conner hisses in feigned sympathy as he holds him through the sensation. "Doing okay?"

Bart's brain felt like it was doing a hard reset. 

"Ffff-fuck," is all he manages to say.

"Not very distracted now, are you?"

Frowning, Bart squishes an uncoordinated hand against Conner's face to shut him up. Blue eyes still shine up at him however. He's too endearing, and Bart is still trying to get himself straight.

"Feel good?" Conner mumbles around the palm covering his mouth.

"Mhmm."

"Good. Come're."

No hesitation, Conner heaves Bart to the side with him. Bart goes easily, cradled in a TK hold. He's pulled close, his head pillowed on Conner's thick bicep, and his leg hooked over Conner's hip and- oh! Bart scoots in, until their hips aligned. 

Conner leans in to kiss him. He's the only thing Bart is able to focus on this close, forcibly distraction-free when hes two orgasms deep with a big hunk between his legs. What a dream. Bart finds his eager body halfway to hard again, and rolls his hips against Conner's encouragingly.

"That's it, you got it," Conner coos. Bart bites his lip in retaliation. "Mmf!"

Rather than pull away, Conner uses the arm Bart is resting on to draw him closer, sucking Bart's tongue into his mouth. He hurries to push down his pants with his one free hand then shimmies his cock free. Conner gives himself a few loose jerks – and bumps Bart's hand as he reaches out to touch as well. 

Conner is just and large and thick here as the rest of him, a sizable fattening just before the base the only indication of his less than human makeup. Bart circles his fingers around it and gives a squeeze. The weight feels good, thick and hard just from rutting together like teenagers again. 

"Excited to see me?" Bart teases. He pulls at the thickness and Conner jumps, nearly jostling him off of the couch.

He's sensitive today.

"Shhh-itt," Conner groans. "A-ah, wait. Like this."

He holds their lengths together, large hand encompassing them both in a tight squeeze. Bart grunts and rocks into the slick cavern. 

"Mm," he hums.

"Mmmm, m-hm. That's good baby," Conner drawls with a kiss on Bart's nose and a confident wink.

Ooohh hes so hot. So hot and sweet. 

Between them, the glistening heads of their cocks rub against one another, encapsulated in Conner's fist. Bart rocks his hips and watches himself disappear in and out of the curl of his fingers. He can feel the thickness at Conner's base presses hard against the underside of his cock as he ruts into the slick cavern. The weight of him feels erotically alive, straining and warm.

"Nng," Conner groans. He pulls away, so they're more breathing each others air than kissing, noses smushed together. The slick sound of them fucking together in the clutch of Conner's fist seems deafening over their panting. The television drones on, forgotten in the background.

Conner is much more entertaining to watch anyway. His brows pinch up and his mouth hangs open as he sucks in breath. The blush on his cheeks has traveled down his neck, turning his chest a ruddy rose. Though his perfectly coiffed hair was holding up well, a few curls had fallen into Conner's face.

He's so handsome, handsomehandsome- even he was coming apart. Bart wants to see him loose it.

He knocks Conner's hand away and tugs at the knot, cinching his fingers under the thickness where its girth refused to pull through. Slickness leaked generously from the purpling head, coating Bart's hand.

He thought about it. The butt stuff. Locking them together for a time while they rested. A sleepy Sunday connected in the deepest, most intimate of ways–

But then Conner was in his face, breath shaking as he kisses Bart clumsily.

"Do the- do the vibey?" he asks.

Bart, circles fingers around the thicknesses and give him what he wants.

"I-! Yes! A-ah- Bart!"

Conner tenses, then moans low and loud as he comes. His cock pulses, spilling between them. 

"Uh-huh, uh-huh," hiccups Conner.

"Uh-huh, uh-huh," Bart echos encouragingly. He holds the knot in a firm grip, massaging softly.

"Oh, that's- that's good. Yeah." Conner hovers a hand over him, shaky, like he's not sure where to touch- if he even remembers reaching up at all. He clenches his fit in the air aimlessly. "Love when you play with it like that."

He's so cute. 

Bart grants him a few more soft squeezes before giving Conner a rest. He holds it in his palm, letting the other man come back himself. After a moment, a hand settles down on his arm, like it remembered where it had been going.

"God," Conner groans. His voice sounds wispy, mouth dry. He swallows a few times to get moisture to the back of his throat. With a smacking of his lips, he turns and buries his face in Bart's neck. "You're perfect."

"Only 'cause you like my 'party trick' so much."

"I love you for more than the weird things you can do with your powers."

"Sure. Whatever you say. Com'on its my turn, my turn," demands Bart, smacking Conner's chest to rouse him. He squawks as hes pulled up by telekinetic hands. "Woah!"

His thighs frame Conner's devilishly handsome face. 

Conner draws him into his mouth, and its warm- wet- wonderful. Bart barely lasts a few seconds as Conner swallows around him.

"Ah!" He gasps.

The orgasm builds quickly at the base of his spine, but rather than explode in a typhoon burst of pleasure, its pulled from him, coaxed out by Conner's hot mouth and his tight throat. The kind that left his legs shaking.

"Oooohhh…" Bart whines as he comes – orgasm three was starting to test the limits of his quick recovery time, and Bart was feeling- ooh yeah, he was a little tired after all was said and done. 

"Oh. Conner."

He sighs, feeling every heartbeat thrum through him in waves like the slow ticking of a second hand, until Conner pulls off, offering sweet relief. 

Bonelessly, Bart slides down the couch, back to where his head is pillowed by Conner's thick bicep and he can throw a leg over the large boys hips. A hand wanders up and cups Conner's chest, giving the pec a couple squeezes for good measure.

Honk honk.

Laughing warmly, Conner pulls Bart back into his embrace, accepting him readily. He traces idle circles over Bart's arm, the other hand wrapped around his back. He's a big, warm cage.

Maybe more like a bear than Bart had originally been imagining.

The documentary had ended, and the dude on screen was droning on about the weather. Ugh, boring. Bart already knew the weather, read about it this morning when the newspapers were writing it up. Read quite a bit of them, actually.

Dry and cool in Smallville this week. Drizzly in Gotham, but that was nothing new.

Light rain expected on and off in Central City. Bart would have to remember to switch out his shoes for a pair with a bit more slip resistance. He'd never hear the end of it if a puddle managed to trip him up.

"I think," Conner nibbles at his ear, "I'm going to make you do the laundry."

Bart jerks back, pulled from his thoughts. "Laundry?"

"There's jizz all over our clothes!"

Cringing, Bart pulls away and looks down. While most of the mess had ended up between their stomachs, there was an undeniable mix of lube and semen on their pants and boxers.

Gross!

Bart groans. Laundry was the worst of the worst. Slowest of the slow! 

"No way!"

"Way. I already did my chores for the day, remember? Come on. Please?" 

"Entrapment," grumbles Bart. "You lured me into sex using your pretty face and fat jugs with the intention of making me do chores."

Conner shrugs, looking altogether too amused for someone with cum drying on him. "The longer you spend complaining, the less time I have to take you to this cool arcade bar I found after."

He's stupid! And he's perfect! And Bart is furious in the most unserious of ways.

How dare this perfect man exist and also be the love of Bart Allen's life. Infuriating.

Grumbling, Bart extracts himself from Conner's embrace. They really are kind of gross, but the washing machine felt like it took months to fill up, so he's still kind of annoyed.

"Bring me a wet towel or something too, yeah?" Kon asks as he kicks off his pants. He hands the soiled mess to Bart, then stretches out on the couch, naked as the day he was...

Oops.

Bart picks the rest of the stuff off the floor and contemplates grabbing the bed sheets off Conner's bed. Who know when those had last been changed. Then he supposes he might as well run home and grab his own dirty laundry to add while the washing machine was filling up. Bart shivers.

The only person in the multiverse with the ability to make him stop and think through chores was his boyfriend - on a lazy Sunday of all days! It must be some secret superpower or something. Still, Conner has done his work for the week, and he looks so relaxed, spread out in the nude, post-orgasm. It was only fair that Bart lend a hand.

"This place better have good food," Bart warns, giving his adonic boyfriend another glance over.

Conner shoots him a grin. "Biggest brisket in the tri-county area."

Well, Bart couldn't say no to that.