Chapter Text
Bruce
“Alfred, what the hell does dress comfy even mean? I can’t think of one restaurant in a 50-mile radius that would allow that kind of dress code,” I groaned into my palms, throwing my phone onto the ottoman at the end of my bed. “I am hopeless,” and fell back onto my bed, defeated.
As Alfred shuffled towards the ottoman, I realized he must’ve picked up my phone to read my text exchange with Clark, which I had sent shortly after Clark left the Batcave:
[4:12AM] Clark Kent: Hey B, tmr dress code calls for comfy clothes ok? Hope ur resting well, text me when u wake up
[4:12AM] Me: I haven’t slept.
[4:12AM] Me: I am still thinking about you.
[4:14AM] Clark Kent: im thinkin bout u too but u gotta sleep !! >:(
[4:15AM] Me: It amazes me the way you text compared to the things you publish for work.
[4:16AM] Clark Kent: hehe srry B I save my brain power where I can
[4:16AM] Clark Kent: but srsly go to bed
[4:17AM] Me: Fine, I will try. It’s going to be hard like other things …
[4:18AM] Clark Kent haha who knew u were this funny at 4am
[4:19AM] Me: Goodnight Clark, I look forward to later tonight.
[4:19AM] Clark Kent: goodnite B I’ll be dreaming of u ;^)
“Well, Master Bruce, maybe he isn’t going to take you to a restaurant with a strict code. Frankly, maybe he isn’t going to take you to a restaurant at all,” Alfred suggested in an amusing tone. “I haven’t seen you this fussy since you were head over heels for that girl from your primary school, what was her name, Natasha? No Anastsi-”
I left out a puff of annoyance. This cannot be my life right now. “That’s enough, Alfred, please don’t remind me how prepubescent I’m acting, I’m well aware.” But I couldn’t help but continue to groan at the feeling.
I’m not the nervous type, and I’m frankly quite a confident man. However, something about Clark being the only person to disarm me both physically and emotionally is hard to process. On one hand, I’m grateful to have someone so trusting, but that’s equally the same reason it’s so difficult. So being stuck on what clothes are appropriate for tonight’s dinner is agonizing.
“Sir, you will be okay, I know Master Clark is a good man both in and out of his suit. I’m certain he wouldn’t do anything to purposely cause this much distress.” Alfred gestured to my current state.
I glanced at my watch and saw I had about another hour before Clark would come pick me up.
“I think you’re right.” And I made my way into the shower in hopes the cold water would drown my misery and help me regain clarity.
—————
“Master Clark has arrived.” Alfred alerted me through the commons system
“Thank you, Alfred, I’ll make my way down now,” and I gave myself one final overlook. I figured casual meant not a suit or a button-up so I opted for a turtleneck sweater. I didn’t want to risk the idea of maybe an outdoor restaurant setting, so something warm seemed appropriate for the evening. I also diverted from my typical black trousers and chose a navy blue pair; it’s Friday either way, so I didn’t mind a splash of color. Lastly, some soft black loafers seemed appropriate to tie the look in.
More or less, this would be the outfit that would be the signifier for the end of my virginity, and I didn’t want to overdo it. This felt good.
As I made my way down, I noticed Clark in all his handsome glory. His hair appeared to be so fluffy and curly, just how I loved it. But something was terribly wrong.
“I’m beyond overdressed. You’re wearing jeans and a t-shirt, give me a second,” and I was already turning around to change. Why is the concept of comfy so difficult?
“No! Bruce, you look amazing, that's exactly what I wanted. Trust me, you look perfect,” Clark warmly stated. Not terribly convinced, but I begrudgingly turn back to walk down the staircase to meet him at the front door.
When I stood in front of him, I noticed Alfred give Clark a gentle nod. Hm, I will need to figure out what that means later.
When I reached Clark, he reached out to hold my hand. Apart from last night, the only other opportunity I’ve had to touch Clark would be when he’d help patch me up after a particular rough fight. As I took in the moment, I realized how his hands were considerably larger and warmer than mine. Even in the cool evening lighting, his skin was warm and glowed within. God, he’s perfect.
“Well, Alfred, I’ll be taking Bruce out this evening. He’s in safe hands,” Clark said in his pure Midwestern charm.
“I believe you, Master Clark . I hope both of you enjoy your evening,” Alfred affirmed as he ushered us out of the manor. Guess someone is happy to have the place to themselves.
—————
Clark
“So when is the car coming?” Bruce’s tone was ever so inquisitive and innocent as I continued to hold his hand.
“I figured we’d do the world some good and be green and rely on some of my special abilities. ” I grinned as I saw Bruce’s eyebrows scrunch in confusion.
“But Clark, what-“ and before Bruce could protest, I grabbed him and flew us off. I held him close during the short flight, and the speed left him uncharacteristically bewildered. The distinct clicking of our shoes against the metal fire escape is what caused Bruce to regain composure after the flight. When I let him go, he instinctively went to fix his tousled hair, but he looked gorgeous, the wind shaping his hair wildly, similar to what it looked like after he took off his cowl.
“I thought we were going on a date?” Bruce's confusion grew further as he looked around where we stood outside my apartment.
“You’re really cute, Bruce, did you know that?” I couldn’t help but laugh as I gently guided Bruce into my apartment through the cracked window. “I figured the experiences you’ve had in the past must’ve been so stuffy and strict. I wanted to give you something different.” As I gestured towards the work I had put into my apartment since our 4am conversation.
I spent the whole morning, afternoon, and early evening crafting the perfect space for Bruce. I littered my apartment with candles to make the apartment lighting soft and glowy. On my coffee table, I had proudly displayed all the books Bruce has recommended to me over the years. Everything about tonight I had curated for Bruce’s enjoyment.
“I want tonight to be easy, you deserve that,” I murmured as I kept my eyes on Bruce as he continued to glance around.
Then his eyes met mine, and he started shaking his head. “Clark” Bruce started slowly, and I felt my heart pang. Ugh, you idiot, you should’ve just reserved something at that Thai restaurant we always get takeout from, maybe homemade wasn’t the best.
“Kiss me Clark,” and like a spell, I found my way bridging the distance. This kiss was unlike anything from last night. It was slow, gentle, and present. Bruce's arms made their way around my shoulder, and mine wrapped around his waist. Our kiss was short and sweet, but enough to leave me feeling heady.
“It all looks perfect Clark, thank you,” he gently whispered against my lips, his eyes still closed. Soon, another gentle peck landed on my lips.
“I’m happy you think so, B. But c’mon, get comfy, take off your shoes, and let’s sit down, I made your favorite pasta, and I don’t want it getting cold,” I pulled away and met Bruce’s bright eyes.
“Superman, renowned reporter and now chef? How’d I get so lucky with you, boy scout?” Bruce teased as he gently kicked off his shoes and neatly placed them by the edge of the couch.
“Well, how about you try it first, and then you can let me know if I deserve the title of chef,” I laughed, led Bruce over to my little dining table.
“This is genuinely the most thoughtful experience I’ve ever received,” he confessed as he looked around the setup. Nothing crazy, a few candles and some fresh flowers. “Looks like you even got some of my favorite wine? You didn’t have to. Bruce politely shot a knowing look of my inability to feel its effects.
“Hey, I may not get buzzed from it, but I can appreciate the taste,”
I went ahead and served his pasta and then poured some wine in his glass.
“Thank you, Mr.Kent,” he teased and reached out to grab his silverware.
“Pleasures all mine, Mr.Wayne,” and sent him a wink as I reached over to open our wine for the evening.
—————
“This was actually quite delicious,” Bruce hummed in enjoyment, taking the final bite of his pasta.
“Hey, you say that like it was so surprising, believe or not, I know a thing or two about cooking,” and Burce let out a hearty laugh. Music to my ears.
“Wait until you try dessert,” I said in a sing-song voice as I started picking up our dishes and making my way back to my kitchen.
“What’s for dessert?”
“Pavlova,” I mused.
“Hmm, I can’t say that I’ve tried it before. Is it one of your favorites?” he questioned as he took the final sip of his wine.
“Yeah, it is. It requires lots of patience, but it’s easy. I think you’ll enjoy it. I just need to add some final touches before serving.”
“Can I help?”
“Help? B, I asked you to this date, you aren’t allowed to lift a finger.”
“Please?” He pleaded, following those puppy eyes that would be the death of me.
“Alright, alright, you drive a hard bargain,” and Bruce shoots his devilishly charming smile my way. As I'm sure he knew I’d cave in. And Ma always said the more hands in the kitchen, the quicker we could all eat.
We entered my kitchen, and I had the actual pavlova already ready. It was just missing the fresh whipped cream and berries.
“I just need to rinse the berries, and you can add some whipped cream. Just give the can a few shakes,” I motioned towards the dispenser and turned to walk over to the sink.
This was truly the most perfect evening I could have imagined. I’d never seen Bruce so calm and relaxed like this before. He smiled and laughed as we spoke about anything and everything. He ate so earnestly and savored his wine, which again was a rare sight; I often had to beg him to remember to eat. We’d been playing footsies during our meal, and somehow I managed to get his legs to rest over my lap, and I gently massaged his feet. Everything felt so natural between us.
But before he even realized what happened to him, the sound was unmistakable. I knew this was going to happen, but I didn’t anticipate it happening to Bruce. The leaky gas sound of the canister met my ears before Bruce’s voice would.
“Clark, what the hell?” Bruce hissed out. Somewhere deep down, I feared turning around and seeing what just happened. I looked behind me and saw that Bruce was drenched in whipped cream. His hair, face clothes. My kitchen wasn’t absolved from the mess either, the cabinets and ceilings had remnants of the cream sliding all over it.
But my goodness, was the sight of Bruce’s blushed skin contrasting against the pure white of the whipped cream too precious.
“You were supposed to put the whipped cream on the pavlova, not your fac-” I started, but quickly met with a deep annoyance in Bruce’s tone.
“Shut up,” Bruce groaned as he gently set the dispenser back onto the counter.
“I’m just teasing B, are you okay?” I made my way back to him to inspect the damage.
“Yeah, I’m fine, just sticky, just ruined our dessert.” He quietly murmured as he surveyed the explosion of whipped cream.
“No, you didn’t ruin it, it seems like some got onto the dessert either way. Come on let’s get you cleaned up.” Not waiting for an answer, I grabbed his hand and led him down the short hall to my bathroom. Mentally high-fiving myself for adding cleaning up my bathroom to the list of this morning's to-do.
As I led him into the bathroom, Bruce’s face was in horror as he looked at the state of his appearance in the reflection of the tiny mirror.
“Oh my god, it’s everywhere, look at my hair,” he exclaimed, reaching towards it to scrape some off. I couldn’t help but laugh at his state, but I figured this was the perfect time.
Stepping behind him wrapping my arms around his waist, I gently leaned into his ear and asked, “Will you spend the night with me?” meeting his gaze through the mirror.
“Spend the night?” he asked earnestly as his eyes ran over to look at my reflection.
“Yes, will you spend the night with me?” I affirmed.
“Couldn’t imagine wanting to be anywhere else.” His eyes relaxed and momentarily lost the furrow of his annoyance at his state.
“Perfect,” and then let go and made my way to the shower to start heating up the water. Bruce only shyly stared at me as I looked around the bathroom for a spare towel and some extra sleeping clothes.
“Come, let me help you,” I motioned for him to walk towards me, and he quietly obeyed. I first started unzipping his sweater, and to my surprise, he wore nothing underneath. I watched him as I slipped the sweater off his shoulders, and only heard it drop to the ground. I then sat on the toilet lid and brought Bruce closer. My face was perfectly aligned with his lower stomach.
I leaned in and started leaving small kisses anywhere I could. Funnily enough, the sweet cream seeped through and made its way to the skin of his stomach. He tasted like his cologne but now mixed with creamy sugary goodness.
More kisses and licks that I lapped onto his abdomen as I worked to undo his pants. The second his pants dropped to the ground, his breathing became more uneven, and his hands curled into my hair.
“This okay, B?” I asked as I peered up to his face, continuing licking my way through his happy trail, the mounds of his abs.
“It’s perfect,” he whispered.
“You taste so good B” I hummed and couldn’t help but notice the growing tent in his tight black boxers. These need to come off, so I removed them and dropped them on the ground too.
“I think the water is ready,” as I guided Bruce into the shower and slowly watched as the whipped cream made its way down his body. The dollops flowed with the water, and his hair smushed against his forehead.
Before I even realized what overtook me, I stepped into the shower with Bruce. I pushed him against the tile, and I hungrily placed my mouth on his. The bitter wine, the cream stuck to the corners of his lips, his saliva was beyond delicious. The hot steam surrounding us only heightened my sense, and it all felt so damn good.
“Clark, your clothes,” Bruce panted out, but I didn’t let his lips leave mine for too long. Our lips fit so well with each other; his grip around my hips and mine to his waist was perfect. His teeth were grazing and biting my lips. My tongue wanted to feel, taste, and explore every part of his mouth. Addicting.
“Don’t care, baby, just want to taste you,” and I deepened the kiss. His tongue followed mine eagerly, and it became apparent to me that even this must’ve been new for him. It only made my desire grow deeper and stronger for him. A man like Bruce Wayne, the Prince of Gotham, also its Dark Knight, to be so innocently inexperienced at something like physical intimacy felt nonsensical, but it made so much sense. Bruce struggled so much for so many years, fighting and being alone. Earning his trust to any degree was on par with successfully reaching the summit of Mount Everest without any gear. But here he was, my Bruce, hot and heavy in my shower, running his hands frantically all over me.
“Better than the whipped cream.” I sighed into his mouth, greedily sucking at his tongue desperate to taste everything he had. Bruce’s naked body melted with my clothed one, and I felt him rut against my thigh. I looked down, and his cock was so wet and hard. His tip was unmistakably dripping with precum already.
“Poor thing, you’ve been so patient,” I whispered, and through the cascading water and my superhearing, his moan was undeniable. It was at that moment that I decided I needed to hear more of that for the rest of my life.
“Clark, please take off your clothes,” and like another spell, I ripped off everything that I had been wearing and tossed it out to meet the other soiled clothes in the middle of the bathroom.
Now there we were wrapped by the heat of the water, the warm ambient lightening of the candles scattered around, and the smell of the eucalyptus hanging by the shower filling our noses because of the steam. Tonight had been better than whatever my wildest dreams could have imagined.
I pulled Bruce back into my embrace, and the feeling was electric. His wet body glided against mine effortlessly, and his lips and tongue only grew in curiosity. I returned my thigh to where it previously was and patted Bruce on his hip to continue. And he did he slowly thrusting against my wet thigh, finding the right pace to alleviate himself. His lips found mine again, and we returned to our exploration.
Before the haze of what we were doing, I emphasized to him, “Your job tonight is to tell me if things feel good or not and if you need to take a break, okay?” I grabbed his chin as I spoke, and he nodded in agreement.
I gently reached over to grab some shampoo and lathered it in my hands, and started washing his hair. Confused, he looked, but his breathing slowed down as I massaged the soap into his scalp. He leaned into my touch, his heart still racing, but it seemed to calm him down.
I looked down and bit my lip. The bubbles covered both our cocks, and I thought instead of my thigh it’d be better to grind against my aching member. Using my height to my advantage, I lifted his leg over my thigh so now he’d be resting himself on top of mine. I placed my hands around us both and created a tight seal.
“Fuck” he moaned as I started thrusting us together. The hot water on our backs, Bruce’s nails digging into my shoulder, the tight squeeze between my hands, and my short, slow pumps felt blasphemous. I couldn’t tear my eyes from the sight, only every other pump I looked up to see Bruce’s reaction. His back remained flushed against the tile, and his panting moans grew louder. The bubbles continued to litter our bodies as we kept pumping into my hands.
“Clark, I-I’mm sorry, I don’t think I’m gonna last,” he gasped out as his hand pulled my hair to look up at him.
“That’s okay, baby, don’t apologize, cum for me, we have all night, cum on me, baby,” I encouraged as my grip around us tightened. His pretty mouth spilled the neediest moans, and not long after, I felt his hot cum fall over my lower abdomen and down my legs. Soon enough, the tight feeling in my stomach erupted, and I spilled ribbons onto him.
“I didn't do a good job at getting you clean, huh?” I gasped, leaning my forehead against him.
“Who cares, we have all night like you said,” and he huffed out, and he was right. I took advantage of his one leg hooked over mine and hoisted him up completely. I sped us into my bedroom and laid him in the middle of the mattress.
His skin glowed with the pouring moonlight, the bedsheets absorbed the wetness of his skin, and there he lay before me in all his glory. Indulging at the sight, I crawled my way between his legs to meet his lips once more.
Rougher now, more desperate and drunkenly.
“Clark, please, do something, I’m ready,” he begged against my lips, and how could I deny him for being so polite? I nodded and nervously pulled back to reach over my nightstand. I pulled out an inconspicuous bottle of lube and rubbed a hearty amount between my fingers.
“Mkay B, just tell me how it feels. I’ll be slow and gentle.” I promised with a quick kiss. Once more for a better grip, I threw his leg over my shoulder and had the chance to see the sight before me. His aching member hardening against his stomach again, and now his tight hole pulsating with anticipation.
“You look beautiful,” I whispered, my breathing growing heavier as I slowly inched my finger to his rim. I noticed his breathing hitch and his skin heating up even further. I slowly inserted up to the first knuckle, and he eagerly squeezed me in.
“Baby, you gotta take it slow, fuck” I drooled at the sight of Bruce eagerly wanting to take me in. Slowly, I pumped into him. His leg slowly started shaking as I continued working him, and I slipped in a second finger.
“Fuck Clark,” he propped himself up onto his forearms to get closer to me. I leaned in and kissed him deeply, fingering his tight hole, and he grinded into my hand, fucking himself on my fingers. I had yet to really pay attention to my own dick, but the pain and desire were becoming unbearable. So I worked more meticulously, stretching, spreading, and working Bruce open. My patience wore dramatically low when he started shaking strongly, and he helplessly couldn’t stop pouring out moans in my name.
“Clark, Clark, oh my god, Clark, don’t stop, please.” his arms wobbled, and he fell back onto the bed. Guess, I found his sweet spot.
“Clark fuck me please, I’m ready, give me everything you got.” and before long, I had covered myself in nearly the entire contents of the bottle of lube, and I aligned myself with his entrance.
Slowly, I entered deeper and deeper into Bruce’s heat. One arm held onto Bruce's thigh that was over my shoulder, and the other rested on his hip to support me as I leaned in.
“This okay?”
“Clark, move, start moving now,” he hissed, and his back arched as he stretched around me. Again, how could I deny him of anything he asked of me? And so I moved, fast and hard. I hadn’t experienced this either before, but it was unlike anything else. Bruce’s body now damped in sweat rather than the wetness of our shower. His cock was twitching against his stomach, and the way he prettily said my name. It was so good.
“Harder, please,” Bruce whined, and it caught me off guard. This was what I would call my normal cap of speed and intensity, as I was always afraid to do more.
“You won’t break me, Clark. Please give me more. His eyes were glossy, his mouth had slight drool, and he looked perfect.
“Okay, baby, anything you want,” I promised and grabbed his other leg and placed it over my shoulder. This angle offered me a deeper opportunity to drill into Bruce’s tight, pretty hole. Fuck it felt so good, I couldn’t get enough. I thrust, and drilled, and grabbed his hips to snap to meet every pump.
“Clark-clark, mm, clark, touch me please,” he begged, and I went to wrap my hand around his cock. Each snap of my hips I matched with each pump, and before long Bruce was twitching and without warning he came all over my hand again.
“You okay, Bruce? I’m sorry, I think I went a little crazy,” I heaved out as I tried to slide out from Bruce, as he surely was feeling sensitive now.
“Don’t you dare pull out until you cum in me,” he barked out in his all too familiar Bat voice. And like an order from a sergeant, I listened and kept up my pace. Each thrust and spasm from Bruce fueled me, and I was fucking him like there was no tomorrow. Soon enough, I came into him, deeper and deeper with each thrust, and I poured my load into him. At one point, I felt like I’d never came that much in my life as it seemed to never end.
“Sorry, B, you felt too good, it’s usually never this much,” I embarrassingly huffed out as I landed above him, dropping his legs to rest. His eyes lulled, and he gave me the faintest smile.
“That was better than I could’ve imagined, pure perfection. Don’t apologize,” and he gave me a soft, gentle kiss.
I hadn’t realized that I was still in him because all of a sudden I felt myself grow against his tight channel. Damn refractory period.
“Are you...” Bruce trialed off, probably feeling the intensity shoot against his nerves once more.
“Yeah, sorry, B, it’ll go away in a second. I was too focused on you that I forgot to pull out,” I admitted sheepishly, and began to painfully retract myself. But Bruce’s hand reached up to my chest, and he tiredly pushed me up to my previous position.
“Move” he sluggishly demanded.
“Bruce, what? You’re exhausted, you need to rest, I’ll be okay.”
“Clark, move goddamit,” and he wrapped his legs around my waist, holding me in place. Oh god.
And once more overtaken by the sensation, the lust, the hunger I was pounding into Bruce. The sound of our skin slapping, Bruce’s moans, and my bed hitting against the wall. My climax was reaching, and as I dove deeper, my previous load working to add to the slickness of our current position, I grabbed Bruce's wrist and brought them over his head.
“Bruce, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna-” and I did, I came a third time but a second time into him tonight. Before making sense of anything, Bruce sleepily said, “felt good,” and his legs gave out, and his eyes rolled back.
“Oh my god, Baby?” I panicked, oh freak, he passed out.