DC fic: A closet affair
Title: A closet affair
Author: Judin Attery
Characters: Clark, Bruce, random women.
Pairings: Clark/Bruce
Verse: Animated
Rating: R
Category: Romance, fluff, jealousy
Warnings: Sex in broomcloset...
Word Count: 1000
Summary: Sex in broomcloset
(Like you need to know more)
So boring. So, so boring. He could have been training, or scouting, or stopping a store robbery or washing the Batmobile, anything was better than a whole night of pretending to be playboy Bruce Wayne, surrounded by business men who thought he was an idiot. Funny how well that image stuck, despite the progress Wayne industries had made since he came back and regained control. It was convenient of course, to be constantly underestimated, but such a tedious role to maintain.
Admittedly, it wasn’t entirely without other perks, quite a few of which had just trapped him in a corner and were all demanding that he dance with them. Quite unable to choose, Bruce just let himself be grabbed and dragged onto the dance floor. The lucky winner was a blonde, a little too busty for his taste, but with a pretty face. She lasted about two minutes into the song before an overly skinny brunette elbowed her aside and took her place. This process repeated itself until he stopped counting them. His jaws ached from smiling.
Rescue came unexpectedly, but was entirely welcome.
“Um, excuse me, excuse me, sorry, excuse me. Mr. Wayne!”
A large company from Metropolis had just built a branch in Gotham, and tonight was supposed to give it the press it needed for a good start, meaning that the party guests were either businessmen, celebrities or press. Since Wayne Industries was a possible future business associate, Bruce had been invited, and since Lois Lane of the Daily Planet was busy with a more important story, so had Clark Kent.
And suddenly the prospect of the evening seemed a lot brighter. Seeing that Clark was struggling to get past the crowd of women, Bruce went to meet him. “Forgive me, ladies, but I really should take this call.”
When no obstacle remained between them, Bruce shook hands with the man, smiling a little easier now, “What can I do for you, Mr. Kent?”
The reporter scratched the back of his head and smiled apologetically back. He was dressed in a blue suit and the glasses were in place on his nose. “Just wondering if I could get a statement about your plans for the future, now that there is a new big company in Gotham to compete with?”
“Of course,” the multibillionaire answered, “but let’s go somewhere less noisy.” The music wasn’t all that loud, but it was the perfect opportunity to lose the tail of women. He grabbed Clark’s elbow without really waiting and dragged him out of the ballroom and into an empty hallway. The reporter let himself be dragged, eyes a little wide. Sometimes, Bruce could easily understand why no one had made the connection yet, because even after several years off the farm, Clark Kent still seemed lost in the big city, shy and clumsy. Nothing at all like the fearless, confident Man of Steel.
“Well Mr. Kent, what did you want to know?” He was taken by surprise when the other man pulled him close and pressed their lips together fiercely. His lover’s tongue sent tendrils of heat racing through his chest and groin. When they parted, Bruce laughed a little breathlessly, “Jealous?”
The clumsy country boy was gone, leaving behind a man who could catch bullets and leap tall buildings in a single bound, and although his mouth was smiling, his eyes were hard. “They were all over you. Figured you needed to be saved.”
He was practically green! This attention, Bruce could enjoy. “I never need to be saved. I was rather enjoying it actually.”
The other man’s voice dropped to a whisper, “No you needed to be saved alright, from your very possessive, super powered boyfriend. He was inches from breaking something.”
The millionaire snuggled a little closer and gave the other man’s tie a tug, knowing that any approaching threats would be heard miles away. “Doesn’t he trust me?”
Clark’s blue eyes softened finally and his shoulders sank a little, “Yes, he does. Of course he does.”
“Good then,” Bruce said and reinstated the kiss.
In short order they found themselves in a broom closet, jackets on the floor, shirts open and belts gone. Clark might be appeased, but he was still rough and impatient, fumbling with the tiny bottle of lubricant, and making his lover hiss when he was too quick with his fingers, but then they were finally ready, Bruce with his back against Clark’s chest, and Clark rocked forward and received a moan, and then they were rocking together, gasping and panting. There were mops and buckets and shelves and bottles occupying the tiny space along with them, and they might be discovered at any moment now that Clark was distracted from keeping a lookout, but Bruce didn’t care. The other man was hard and hot inside him, thrusting with increasing vigor as he lost control, hands firm on his lover’s hips. Everything Bruce wanted.
He looked over his shoulder, noting with a pang of affection that the glasses were still on, though a little lopsided, and it was one of the miracles of love that it could make every point of touch so much more intense, and Bruce’s legs so much more shaky, when their eyes met.
Clark leaned forward and kissed his neck, increasing the strength of his thrusts and driving his lover harder against the wall, “So…about that statement.”
Bruce groaned, trying to pull together enough brain cells to conjure up a reply, but when Clark wrapped a hand around his aching cock and began to stroke it in time with his thrusts, he gave up and let his head fall back against his lover’s shoulder. “Clark!”
Low laughter rumbled through the other man’s chest and Bruce’s back, but it was interrupted by a gasp, and his movements became erratic until, with a loud moan, he came. In oblivion his hand on Bruce’s cock tightened almost painfully, dragging the other man with him over the edge.
The absence of the Prince of Gotham had not gone unnoticed, but no one was surprised when he returned to the party, shirt a little rumpled and hair mussed, assuming as usual that some girl had got lucky again. The girls of the party turned suspicious eyes on each other, while Clark Kent resumed his round of interviews with a healthy glow in his cheeks and a barely suppressed smile.
Author: Judin Attery
Characters: Clark, Bruce, random women.
Pairings: Clark/Bruce
Verse: Animated
Rating: R
Category: Romance, fluff, jealousy
Warnings: Sex in broomcloset...
Word Count: 1000
Summary: Sex in broomcloset
(Like you need to know more)
So boring. So, so boring. He could have been training, or scouting, or stopping a store robbery or washing the Batmobile, anything was better than a whole night of pretending to be playboy Bruce Wayne, surrounded by business men who thought he was an idiot. Funny how well that image stuck, despite the progress Wayne industries had made since he came back and regained control. It was convenient of course, to be constantly underestimated, but such a tedious role to maintain.
Admittedly, it wasn’t entirely without other perks, quite a few of which had just trapped him in a corner and were all demanding that he dance with them. Quite unable to choose, Bruce just let himself be grabbed and dragged onto the dance floor. The lucky winner was a blonde, a little too busty for his taste, but with a pretty face. She lasted about two minutes into the song before an overly skinny brunette elbowed her aside and took her place. This process repeated itself until he stopped counting them. His jaws ached from smiling.
Rescue came unexpectedly, but was entirely welcome.
“Um, excuse me, excuse me, sorry, excuse me. Mr. Wayne!”
A large company from Metropolis had just built a branch in Gotham, and tonight was supposed to give it the press it needed for a good start, meaning that the party guests were either businessmen, celebrities or press. Since Wayne Industries was a possible future business associate, Bruce had been invited, and since Lois Lane of the Daily Planet was busy with a more important story, so had Clark Kent.
And suddenly the prospect of the evening seemed a lot brighter. Seeing that Clark was struggling to get past the crowd of women, Bruce went to meet him. “Forgive me, ladies, but I really should take this call.”
When no obstacle remained between them, Bruce shook hands with the man, smiling a little easier now, “What can I do for you, Mr. Kent?”
The reporter scratched the back of his head and smiled apologetically back. He was dressed in a blue suit and the glasses were in place on his nose. “Just wondering if I could get a statement about your plans for the future, now that there is a new big company in Gotham to compete with?”
“Of course,” the multibillionaire answered, “but let’s go somewhere less noisy.” The music wasn’t all that loud, but it was the perfect opportunity to lose the tail of women. He grabbed Clark’s elbow without really waiting and dragged him out of the ballroom and into an empty hallway. The reporter let himself be dragged, eyes a little wide. Sometimes, Bruce could easily understand why no one had made the connection yet, because even after several years off the farm, Clark Kent still seemed lost in the big city, shy and clumsy. Nothing at all like the fearless, confident Man of Steel.
“Well Mr. Kent, what did you want to know?” He was taken by surprise when the other man pulled him close and pressed their lips together fiercely. His lover’s tongue sent tendrils of heat racing through his chest and groin. When they parted, Bruce laughed a little breathlessly, “Jealous?”
The clumsy country boy was gone, leaving behind a man who could catch bullets and leap tall buildings in a single bound, and although his mouth was smiling, his eyes were hard. “They were all over you. Figured you needed to be saved.”
He was practically green! This attention, Bruce could enjoy. “I never need to be saved. I was rather enjoying it actually.”
The other man’s voice dropped to a whisper, “No you needed to be saved alright, from your very possessive, super powered boyfriend. He was inches from breaking something.”
The millionaire snuggled a little closer and gave the other man’s tie a tug, knowing that any approaching threats would be heard miles away. “Doesn’t he trust me?”
Clark’s blue eyes softened finally and his shoulders sank a little, “Yes, he does. Of course he does.”
“Good then,” Bruce said and reinstated the kiss.
In short order they found themselves in a broom closet, jackets on the floor, shirts open and belts gone. Clark might be appeased, but he was still rough and impatient, fumbling with the tiny bottle of lubricant, and making his lover hiss when he was too quick with his fingers, but then they were finally ready, Bruce with his back against Clark’s chest, and Clark rocked forward and received a moan, and then they were rocking together, gasping and panting. There were mops and buckets and shelves and bottles occupying the tiny space along with them, and they might be discovered at any moment now that Clark was distracted from keeping a lookout, but Bruce didn’t care. The other man was hard and hot inside him, thrusting with increasing vigor as he lost control, hands firm on his lover’s hips. Everything Bruce wanted.
He looked over his shoulder, noting with a pang of affection that the glasses were still on, though a little lopsided, and it was one of the miracles of love that it could make every point of touch so much more intense, and Bruce’s legs so much more shaky, when their eyes met.
Clark leaned forward and kissed his neck, increasing the strength of his thrusts and driving his lover harder against the wall, “So…about that statement.”
Bruce groaned, trying to pull together enough brain cells to conjure up a reply, but when Clark wrapped a hand around his aching cock and began to stroke it in time with his thrusts, he gave up and let his head fall back against his lover’s shoulder. “Clark!”
Low laughter rumbled through the other man’s chest and Bruce’s back, but it was interrupted by a gasp, and his movements became erratic until, with a loud moan, he came. In oblivion his hand on Bruce’s cock tightened almost painfully, dragging the other man with him over the edge.
The absence of the Prince of Gotham had not gone unnoticed, but no one was surprised when he returned to the party, shirt a little rumpled and hair mussed, assuming as usual that some girl had got lucky again. The girls of the party turned suspicious eyes on each other, while Clark Kent resumed his round of interviews with a healthy glow in his cheeks and a barely suppressed smile.