Fic: Four Men Sleeping in a Double Bed
Title: Four Men Sleeping in a Double Bed
Pairing/Characters: Clark/Bruce
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None needed.
Summary: Clark has a crush on Batman. Superman is smitten with Bruce. Batman thinks Clark is adorable. Bruce is head over heels for Superman. Two love triangles intersect as could only happen in superhero comics.
Continuity: Comics, a take on Superman/Batman Annual #1 in which Clark and Bruce (still unaware of each other's hero identities) end up booked in the same cruise ship room and sharing a bed.
Word Count: 1900
Notes: Written for World's Finest Second Chances, prompt F20, requesting Superman/Bruce and Batman/Clark, each unaware of the other identity.
Clark Kent is frustrated.
He is lying on his side, his knees curled up defensively. His shoulder blades prickle, tense with the knowledge that Bruce Wayne is just inches away. A sudden roll of the ship they are on, he thinks, could shift their bodies until they touch. At the thought he closes his eyes to try and banish the hot urgency that threatens to crawl down his spine and ignite into something entirely dangerous. He remembers the taste of champagne on the playboy's lips, remembers parting them with his tongue, remembers the way the man had shuddered against Superman's chest.
Bruce doesn't know he's in bed with the superhero he had clung to almost drunkenly just last week.
Behind him, Bruce sighs in his sleep, and Clark resists the overpowering urge to simply turn and sling a leg over those tempting hips and cover Bruce's body with his own, bite kisses into the vulnerable throat.
He has other reasons not to do so beyond exposing his secret identity, reasons that have to do with a hot summer night in Gotham and a whisper of black silk along the nape of his neck.
Clark Kent lies in bed and feels unfaithful, but he's not sure to whom.
: : :
Bruce Wayne is annoyed.
He sighs without quite meaning to and hopes the man currently in bed with him thinks he's asleep. It wouldn't do for Clark--sweet, innocent, trusting Clark--to know that at this moment Bruce is struggling not to simply pin him down and growl commands into his ear, commands to make his guileless blue eyes widen and his cheeks flush the way they did that night last week. Bruce remembers those eyes bright with shock and something more as Batman descended from the night sky, remembers the delicious shiver that ran through Clark's body as the black cape wrapped around him for an instant like smoke.
Clark doesn't know he's in bed with the vigilante who made him stammer and blush until Batman had been unable to resist kissing him.
Behind him, Clark fidgets restlessly and one foot brushes up against Bruce's calf. He jerks away as though appalled, and Bruce is torn between a desire to laugh and to lick the back of his neck, right where that ruddy blush is creeping, his shy farmboy.
He has other reasons not to do so beyond exposing his secret identity, reasons that have to do with a bright afternoon in Metropolis and hands even stronger than his own on his shoulders, fierce and demanding.
Bruce Wayne lies in bed and feels unfaithful, but he's not sure to whom.
: : :
"I can't sleep. I'm going for a walk," Clark finally says, unable to stand the softly-breathing nearness of his companion. Bruce merely grunts, although Clark thinks he sees a glint of watchful azure under long lashes as he throws on a robe and heads out to the deck.
The cool air does nothing to ease his fevered thoughts. He stops walking and grips the railing hard enough to leave small dents in it, trying to think clearly. He wants Bruce so much, wants to hear Bruce beg for more in that luxurious voice, sweet and honeyed. Wants to make Bruce writhe under him and gasp. He wants Batman's hands on him, knotted in his hair, pulling his head back, making him whimper with need, the desire to belong to the Dark Knight completely. He can't make Bruce completely his and be made completely Batman's, he thinks confusedly. He can't want both things.
He does.
The explosions are almost a welcome distraction until he realizes they're coming from his cabin, where Bruce still lies asleep.
: : :
The door clicks shut behind Clark and Bruce huffs a sigh of relief at seeing temptation removed. He rolls over and stares at the ceiling and finds himself thinking of how the sea air is ruffling Clark's hair, how it would feel under Batman's fingers as he smooths it down, black leather woven gentle into dark hair.
Or not so gentle.
He shifts and bites his lip, desire gripping him. He wants to push Clark to his knees, to see the sweet confusion in those bright wide eyes darken into lust. He wants to see Superman cross his arms and smirk as Bruce unbuttons his shirt, confident and sure that Bruce wants him. Bruce wants him, oh yes. Bruce twists in the sheets and a sharp, fevered thought--Maybe Superman would be willing to watch while Bruce fucked Clark?--makes him groan and gasp and wonder what the hell is wrong with him.
When the explosions start his body is on autopilot, grabbing the special suitcase and changing while splinters and glass are still in the air. The firm hard clasp of kevlar and leather clears his mind so he's ready once the assassin comes through the gaping hole in the wall at him.
: : :
"Well, well, well. What have we here?"
Superman tries to speed past the three figures blocking his way--he has to get to Bruce, has to protect him--but Ultraman backhands him and then Superwoman's lasso is around his feet and she's whipcracking him into the air and into the deck as Owlman watches, smirking. He hears himself bellowing as he lunges at them--all three at once, he doesn't care, he has to get to Bruce!--but the lasso wraps around him and he crashes to the deck. Owlman has something like brass knuckles on, but glowing green. "This is going to be fun," Owlman says as he pulls back his hand.
A sharp ting of metal on metal and Owlman curses, swinging to meet the shadow that slips away from him. Superman's pulse does something odd and unexplainable at the sight and for a moment he's entirely Clark, filled with awe and delight as he watches Batman make a quick and subtle move, hands a blur of ebony, and Owlman crashes to the ground.
Then the moment is gone and Superman throws off the lasso with a wrench to leap forward and catch Ultraman's fist in his own before it can connect with Batman's face. They stand frozen for a moment, straining, and then there's a crackle of bones and Ultraman howls.
Batman and Superman turn to Superwoman, who is coiling up her lasso. She looks at the two prone bodies and shrugs. "Not great odds, boys," she says. Then she throws quick loops around the ankles of her fallen compatriots and takes to the air, hauling the two of them behind her like trussed chickens.
She blows Superman and Batman a kiss as she disappears into some kind of dimensional rift.
Superman stares at Batman. "What are you doing here?" he asks, trying not to stammer, trying to be the Man of Steel, not the Reporter of Putty.
"I..." For a moment Batman seems nonplussed. Then he rallies. "I heard rumor of an assassination attempt against Bruce Wayne, who's a passenger here on this ship, and--"
"Great Rao, Bruce." Terror turns Superman's insides to ice, and without another word to Batman, he turns and races toward his cabin.
: : :
Batman collects his shattered dignity as best he can and follows after Superman, hoping that it doesn't show just how devastatingly attractive he had found the sight of Superman with his eyes blazing, leaping to his rescue. He's beginning to understand why that Lane woman keeps getting into trouble all the time.
But all thoughts of that kind evaporate on reaching Clark and Bruce's cabin. The assassin is gone, of course--Batman sighs and wishes he'd had a little more time to make the knots more secure. But Superman is standing in the middle of the ruined cabin, his eyes wild as he stares at the bed, strewn with jagged glass. "Bruce!" His voice cracks, and then he spots something on the floor. He springs and comes up with a scrap of black silk from a pair of pajamas. He whirls on Batman. "Where is he? How could you--how could you let this happen?" There are tears in his eyes, and suddenly he looks less like a masterful hero and more like a very young man, a rather ordinary man who's just lost someone he cares about.
Shocked and touched by the depth of Superman's reaction, trembling on the verge of a revelation, Batman opens his mouth to say something and Superman goes down on his knees in the wreckage. "Oh God, Bruce," he groans again, and puts his hands to his face.
It's the slumped posture and the defeated voice that finally does it, that makes everything come together in Bruce's mind into a blaze of startled delight. He doesn't hesitate--how can he in front of the man he now knows he loves twice over? "It's okay," he says, letting his voice soften and lift into the familiar register as he goes down on his knees next to Superman, next to Clark. "I'm right here, I'm safe." Glass crunches under his knees unnoticed as blue eyes widen in shock. "Hi," Bruce breathes, feeling foolish and delighted and aroused and...mostly foolish.
"B--B--" Superman can't seem to figure out how to finish the name. Then he drags Batman into a huge hug. "You're alive! Thank Rao." After a time, Batman coughs and Superman lets go of him abruptly, as if shocked to find himself hugging the Dark Knight. "I'm--I'm sorry, I--" He shakes his head, looks hard at Bruce. "It really is you," he murmurs, his voice wondering. "You're...both of them. And I'm...I'm..."
It isn't exactly clear after that if it's Batman kissing Clark or Superman kissing Bruce, but it's wonderful.
"Let's get out of here and go back to the Manor," Bruce mutters hoarsely when the kiss ends.
"We can't just go missing," Clark counters. "People will worry, we'll be presumed dead, it would be a--"
Batman sighs and taps on a gadget on his belt. "No need to fret," he says, playboy-bored. "My private helicopter will be here in a jiffy to whisk us away from all this distasteful mess."
Superman's eyes go somewhat glassy at hearing Bruce's voice in Batman's mouth. "Um," he says.
Batman reaches out and pushes Superman in the chest. "Then Clark and Bruce had better be ready for it, right?" He's already halfway out of uniform, the cowl and gloves off, and then the shirt, and suddenly realizes Superman is still watching him, unmoving. He can't help smirking just a bit as he hooks his thumbs into the gray tights, preparing to slide them off...and then there's a sudden blur of motion and Superman is kissing him again, and Bruce's bare hands are in Superman's hair, and Superman takes a deep breath and two steps back and is suddenly Clark, faster than the eye can track, Clark in rumpled pajamas and thick glasses, and goes right back to kissing him as if there has been no change at all.
Which, Bruce realizes, there hasn't.
: : :
It's midnight at Wayne Manor. Moonlight touches arms wrapped protectively, legs tangled together, the slightest of smiles on sleeping faces.
There are four men sleeping in a double bed, and there is room for them all.
Pairing/Characters: Clark/Bruce
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None needed.
Summary: Clark has a crush on Batman. Superman is smitten with Bruce. Batman thinks Clark is adorable. Bruce is head over heels for Superman. Two love triangles intersect as could only happen in superhero comics.
Continuity: Comics, a take on Superman/Batman Annual #1 in which Clark and Bruce (still unaware of each other's hero identities) end up booked in the same cruise ship room and sharing a bed.
Word Count: 1900
Notes: Written for World's Finest Second Chances, prompt F20, requesting Superman/Bruce and Batman/Clark, each unaware of the other identity.
Clark Kent is frustrated.
He is lying on his side, his knees curled up defensively. His shoulder blades prickle, tense with the knowledge that Bruce Wayne is just inches away. A sudden roll of the ship they are on, he thinks, could shift their bodies until they touch. At the thought he closes his eyes to try and banish the hot urgency that threatens to crawl down his spine and ignite into something entirely dangerous. He remembers the taste of champagne on the playboy's lips, remembers parting them with his tongue, remembers the way the man had shuddered against Superman's chest.
Bruce doesn't know he's in bed with the superhero he had clung to almost drunkenly just last week.
Behind him, Bruce sighs in his sleep, and Clark resists the overpowering urge to simply turn and sling a leg over those tempting hips and cover Bruce's body with his own, bite kisses into the vulnerable throat.
He has other reasons not to do so beyond exposing his secret identity, reasons that have to do with a hot summer night in Gotham and a whisper of black silk along the nape of his neck.
Clark Kent lies in bed and feels unfaithful, but he's not sure to whom.
: : :
Bruce Wayne is annoyed.
He sighs without quite meaning to and hopes the man currently in bed with him thinks he's asleep. It wouldn't do for Clark--sweet, innocent, trusting Clark--to know that at this moment Bruce is struggling not to simply pin him down and growl commands into his ear, commands to make his guileless blue eyes widen and his cheeks flush the way they did that night last week. Bruce remembers those eyes bright with shock and something more as Batman descended from the night sky, remembers the delicious shiver that ran through Clark's body as the black cape wrapped around him for an instant like smoke.
Clark doesn't know he's in bed with the vigilante who made him stammer and blush until Batman had been unable to resist kissing him.
Behind him, Clark fidgets restlessly and one foot brushes up against Bruce's calf. He jerks away as though appalled, and Bruce is torn between a desire to laugh and to lick the back of his neck, right where that ruddy blush is creeping, his shy farmboy.
He has other reasons not to do so beyond exposing his secret identity, reasons that have to do with a bright afternoon in Metropolis and hands even stronger than his own on his shoulders, fierce and demanding.
Bruce Wayne lies in bed and feels unfaithful, but he's not sure to whom.
: : :
"I can't sleep. I'm going for a walk," Clark finally says, unable to stand the softly-breathing nearness of his companion. Bruce merely grunts, although Clark thinks he sees a glint of watchful azure under long lashes as he throws on a robe and heads out to the deck.
The cool air does nothing to ease his fevered thoughts. He stops walking and grips the railing hard enough to leave small dents in it, trying to think clearly. He wants Bruce so much, wants to hear Bruce beg for more in that luxurious voice, sweet and honeyed. Wants to make Bruce writhe under him and gasp. He wants Batman's hands on him, knotted in his hair, pulling his head back, making him whimper with need, the desire to belong to the Dark Knight completely. He can't make Bruce completely his and be made completely Batman's, he thinks confusedly. He can't want both things.
He does.
The explosions are almost a welcome distraction until he realizes they're coming from his cabin, where Bruce still lies asleep.
: : :
The door clicks shut behind Clark and Bruce huffs a sigh of relief at seeing temptation removed. He rolls over and stares at the ceiling and finds himself thinking of how the sea air is ruffling Clark's hair, how it would feel under Batman's fingers as he smooths it down, black leather woven gentle into dark hair.
Or not so gentle.
He shifts and bites his lip, desire gripping him. He wants to push Clark to his knees, to see the sweet confusion in those bright wide eyes darken into lust. He wants to see Superman cross his arms and smirk as Bruce unbuttons his shirt, confident and sure that Bruce wants him. Bruce wants him, oh yes. Bruce twists in the sheets and a sharp, fevered thought--Maybe Superman would be willing to watch while Bruce fucked Clark?--makes him groan and gasp and wonder what the hell is wrong with him.
When the explosions start his body is on autopilot, grabbing the special suitcase and changing while splinters and glass are still in the air. The firm hard clasp of kevlar and leather clears his mind so he's ready once the assassin comes through the gaping hole in the wall at him.
: : :
"Well, well, well. What have we here?"
Superman tries to speed past the three figures blocking his way--he has to get to Bruce, has to protect him--but Ultraman backhands him and then Superwoman's lasso is around his feet and she's whipcracking him into the air and into the deck as Owlman watches, smirking. He hears himself bellowing as he lunges at them--all three at once, he doesn't care, he has to get to Bruce!--but the lasso wraps around him and he crashes to the deck. Owlman has something like brass knuckles on, but glowing green. "This is going to be fun," Owlman says as he pulls back his hand.
A sharp ting of metal on metal and Owlman curses, swinging to meet the shadow that slips away from him. Superman's pulse does something odd and unexplainable at the sight and for a moment he's entirely Clark, filled with awe and delight as he watches Batman make a quick and subtle move, hands a blur of ebony, and Owlman crashes to the ground.
Then the moment is gone and Superman throws off the lasso with a wrench to leap forward and catch Ultraman's fist in his own before it can connect with Batman's face. They stand frozen for a moment, straining, and then there's a crackle of bones and Ultraman howls.
Batman and Superman turn to Superwoman, who is coiling up her lasso. She looks at the two prone bodies and shrugs. "Not great odds, boys," she says. Then she throws quick loops around the ankles of her fallen compatriots and takes to the air, hauling the two of them behind her like trussed chickens.
She blows Superman and Batman a kiss as she disappears into some kind of dimensional rift.
Superman stares at Batman. "What are you doing here?" he asks, trying not to stammer, trying to be the Man of Steel, not the Reporter of Putty.
"I..." For a moment Batman seems nonplussed. Then he rallies. "I heard rumor of an assassination attempt against Bruce Wayne, who's a passenger here on this ship, and--"
"Great Rao, Bruce." Terror turns Superman's insides to ice, and without another word to Batman, he turns and races toward his cabin.
: : :
Batman collects his shattered dignity as best he can and follows after Superman, hoping that it doesn't show just how devastatingly attractive he had found the sight of Superman with his eyes blazing, leaping to his rescue. He's beginning to understand why that Lane woman keeps getting into trouble all the time.
But all thoughts of that kind evaporate on reaching Clark and Bruce's cabin. The assassin is gone, of course--Batman sighs and wishes he'd had a little more time to make the knots more secure. But Superman is standing in the middle of the ruined cabin, his eyes wild as he stares at the bed, strewn with jagged glass. "Bruce!" His voice cracks, and then he spots something on the floor. He springs and comes up with a scrap of black silk from a pair of pajamas. He whirls on Batman. "Where is he? How could you--how could you let this happen?" There are tears in his eyes, and suddenly he looks less like a masterful hero and more like a very young man, a rather ordinary man who's just lost someone he cares about.
Shocked and touched by the depth of Superman's reaction, trembling on the verge of a revelation, Batman opens his mouth to say something and Superman goes down on his knees in the wreckage. "Oh God, Bruce," he groans again, and puts his hands to his face.
It's the slumped posture and the defeated voice that finally does it, that makes everything come together in Bruce's mind into a blaze of startled delight. He doesn't hesitate--how can he in front of the man he now knows he loves twice over? "It's okay," he says, letting his voice soften and lift into the familiar register as he goes down on his knees next to Superman, next to Clark. "I'm right here, I'm safe." Glass crunches under his knees unnoticed as blue eyes widen in shock. "Hi," Bruce breathes, feeling foolish and delighted and aroused and...mostly foolish.
"B--B--" Superman can't seem to figure out how to finish the name. Then he drags Batman into a huge hug. "You're alive! Thank Rao." After a time, Batman coughs and Superman lets go of him abruptly, as if shocked to find himself hugging the Dark Knight. "I'm--I'm sorry, I--" He shakes his head, looks hard at Bruce. "It really is you," he murmurs, his voice wondering. "You're...both of them. And I'm...I'm..."
It isn't exactly clear after that if it's Batman kissing Clark or Superman kissing Bruce, but it's wonderful.
"Let's get out of here and go back to the Manor," Bruce mutters hoarsely when the kiss ends.
"We can't just go missing," Clark counters. "People will worry, we'll be presumed dead, it would be a--"
Batman sighs and taps on a gadget on his belt. "No need to fret," he says, playboy-bored. "My private helicopter will be here in a jiffy to whisk us away from all this distasteful mess."
Superman's eyes go somewhat glassy at hearing Bruce's voice in Batman's mouth. "Um," he says.
Batman reaches out and pushes Superman in the chest. "Then Clark and Bruce had better be ready for it, right?" He's already halfway out of uniform, the cowl and gloves off, and then the shirt, and suddenly realizes Superman is still watching him, unmoving. He can't help smirking just a bit as he hooks his thumbs into the gray tights, preparing to slide them off...and then there's a sudden blur of motion and Superman is kissing him again, and Bruce's bare hands are in Superman's hair, and Superman takes a deep breath and two steps back and is suddenly Clark, faster than the eye can track, Clark in rumpled pajamas and thick glasses, and goes right back to kissing him as if there has been no change at all.
Which, Bruce realizes, there hasn't.
: : :
It's midnight at Wayne Manor. Moonlight touches arms wrapped protectively, legs tangled together, the slightest of smiles on sleeping faces.
There are four men sleeping in a double bed, and there is room for them all.