Ficlet: Kansan Beauty (Bruce/Clark)
Title: Kansan Beauty
Fandom: DC
Pairings/Characters: Bruce/ Clark
Rating: 15
Summary: Bruce watches the film 'American Beauty', it inspires his dreams.
Word count: 400
Disclaimer: Not mine, etc.
Notes: I recently asked for art prompts. In typical me style one of these art prompts give me this little ficlet idea. I am still going to translate this into a painting, but It won’t be for a while. In the mean time I had to get this out. So this is for rai_daydreamer 's prompt - Clark with sunflowers.
Kansan Beauty
A smell as warm and wholesome as honey tickles his nose. Bruce opens his eyes. He knows he dreaming.
Golden petals tumble gently downwards in the air above him. With a lightning quick flick of his wrist he snatches one and examines it closely.
It’s a sunflower petal.
He can’t help but groan, surly with his knowledge and experience his subconscious could come up with something a little less obvious?
Or is he mocking himself with his own sexual fantasies?
It’s Dick’s fault, or maybe Alfred. Alfred had insisted that he and his boy’s should spend more quality time together. Dick had chosen the film, American Beauty. He’d said something about Mena Suvari being hot as hell.
Bruce didn’t need the mirage above him to know he empathised with a lonely, unfulfilled man who fantasised about innocent, uncorrupted beauty, whose fantasies that took innocence and twisted it into something predatorial and lustful.
He gave up, if his mind was going to insist on doing this to him, he might as well enjoy it.
Looking at the drifting petals, they parted to reveal a visage that, while unoriginal, is defiantly exquisite. The ceiling is strewn with sunflowers. In the centre of this yellow floral mass is the naked form of his best friend, but it’s not his best friend, Clark has never gazed at him so wantonly.
The phantom Clark starts to move slowly, a slight twist off hips here, an arm extending down towards him there. Bruce is an expert in non-verbal communication and this incubus before him is silently screaming sex.
Bruce let his eyes roam, drinking in the sight of the man above him. His imagination must be working overtime because this Clark is perfect. Even the small flaws that most people wouldn’t notice are perfection. The mole on his neck. The tiny cresses round his eyes. The heavy shaft that curved fractionally to the right.
Bruce could feel his body harden in response.
BBBBEEEEEEEEPPP… BBBBEEEEEEEEPPP… BBBBEE SMASH
“Fuck!” Bruce grunted as he withdrew his hand from the crushed remains of his alarm cloak.
He squeezed his eyes shut tight and tries to get his composure.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”
A low growling chuckle came from directly above him, Bruce’s eyelids sprang open in disbelief.
The naked Clark’s grin turns mischievous, “You know, you only have to ask once.”
Half a second later Bruce feels himself being pressed firmly into the bed by a hot, heavy and miraculously real Kryptonian.
Fandom: DC
Pairings/Characters: Bruce/ Clark
Rating: 15
Summary: Bruce watches the film 'American Beauty', it inspires his dreams.
Word count: 400
Disclaimer: Not mine, etc.
Notes: I recently asked for art prompts. In typical me style one of these art prompts give me this little ficlet idea. I am still going to translate this into a painting, but It won’t be for a while. In the mean time I had to get this out. So this is for rai_daydreamer 's prompt - Clark with sunflowers.
Kansan Beauty
A smell as warm and wholesome as honey tickles his nose. Bruce opens his eyes. He knows he dreaming.
Golden petals tumble gently downwards in the air above him. With a lightning quick flick of his wrist he snatches one and examines it closely.
It’s a sunflower petal.
He can’t help but groan, surly with his knowledge and experience his subconscious could come up with something a little less obvious?
Or is he mocking himself with his own sexual fantasies?
It’s Dick’s fault, or maybe Alfred. Alfred had insisted that he and his boy’s should spend more quality time together. Dick had chosen the film, American Beauty. He’d said something about Mena Suvari being hot as hell.
Bruce didn’t need the mirage above him to know he empathised with a lonely, unfulfilled man who fantasised about innocent, uncorrupted beauty, whose fantasies that took innocence and twisted it into something predatorial and lustful.
He gave up, if his mind was going to insist on doing this to him, he might as well enjoy it.
Looking at the drifting petals, they parted to reveal a visage that, while unoriginal, is defiantly exquisite. The ceiling is strewn with sunflowers. In the centre of this yellow floral mass is the naked form of his best friend, but it’s not his best friend, Clark has never gazed at him so wantonly.
The phantom Clark starts to move slowly, a slight twist off hips here, an arm extending down towards him there. Bruce is an expert in non-verbal communication and this incubus before him is silently screaming sex.
Bruce let his eyes roam, drinking in the sight of the man above him. His imagination must be working overtime because this Clark is perfect. Even the small flaws that most people wouldn’t notice are perfection. The mole on his neck. The tiny cresses round his eyes. The heavy shaft that curved fractionally to the right.
Bruce could feel his body harden in response.
BBBBEEEEEEEEPPP… BBBBEEEEEEEEPPP… BBBBEE SMASH
“Fuck!” Bruce grunted as he withdrew his hand from the crushed remains of his alarm cloak.
He squeezed his eyes shut tight and tries to get his composure.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”
A low growling chuckle came from directly above him, Bruce’s eyelids sprang open in disbelief.
The naked Clark’s grin turns mischievous, “You know, you only have to ask once.”
Half a second later Bruce feels himself being pressed firmly into the bed by a hot, heavy and miraculously real Kryptonian.