FICLET: Contrasts
Title: Contrasts
Characters/Pairings: Kal-El/Bruce Wayne
Rating: R
Summary: Bruce Wayne contemplates his lover and his car. And his lover on his car.
Word count: 400
Continuity: Movieverse, a little scene from Music of the Spheres.
Notes: For
loqia for her secular holiday season! *grin*
Bruce knows that the Tumbler is ugly.
It's squat and square, all blunt angles and brutal lines. Even its paint job is ugly: drab matte black as opposed to anything glossy and reflective. It's a tank, and its form matches its function: pragmatic, sturdy, tough, and plain.
Batman's car is ugly, there's no denying that.
: : :
Kal's pale body glows like starlight, sprawled against the dull black paint of the Tumbler. A bare foot is braced against one of the wide front wheels, dark hair fans against the dark windshield. He is panting.
Bruce loves that he can make Kal's breath come fast, make him breathless with desire. Without even touching him.
Just by looking at him.
He keeps looking.
Kal's arousal is plain and stark against the blackness, but a smile flickers briefly on his mouth. "Bruce, my dark star, my love," he murmurs between breaths, "I will never quite understand why you like to see me draped across your damn ugly car like one of those ludicrous centerfold calendars." He pulls his hands over his head and lolls seductively across the front of the car, arching his back in an exaggerated parody of cheesecake. Pulling a ridiculous pout with his beautiful mouth--though not ridiculous enough to keep Bruce's pulse from leaping with desire--he whispers huskily, "Is this some kind of human male sexual response thing, linking cars and decorative sexual objects?"
Batman can't help but snort slightly, although it's all he can do to keep from crossing over to the car, breaking this moment of delicious stasis into a thousand pieces of ecstasy. "You're much more than decorative, Kal."
Kal licks his lips, perhaps unconsciously, perhaps unaware that the slight touch of pink against pale skin makes Bruce even harder than he had thought possible. Perhaps.
"And am I more than just a sexual object to you, Bruce?"
Kal's voice is light and teasing, a feather-flick across Bruce's eardrums. He feels dizzy for a moment. "You're the object of everything," he says without thinking.
Kal laughs, but not before the flicker of shy surprise goes across his face. "You sweet-talker," he starts, but the flash of startled pleasure is the last straw for Bruce, and he's up against his lover, dark gloves on pale skin, black cape like shadows on shining snowfall. He pushes Kal against the ugly metal and kneels to make him shiver with rapture. Luminous. Opalescent. Passion like light.
Batman's car is ugly: brusque, brutal and pragmatic.
Bruce Wayne has a keen appreciation of contrasts.
Characters/Pairings: Kal-El/Bruce Wayne
Rating: R
Summary: Bruce Wayne contemplates his lover and his car. And his lover on his car.
Word count: 400
Continuity: Movieverse, a little scene from Music of the Spheres.
Notes: For
loqia for her secular holiday season! *grin*
Bruce knows that the Tumbler is ugly.
It's squat and square, all blunt angles and brutal lines. Even its paint job is ugly: drab matte black as opposed to anything glossy and reflective. It's a tank, and its form matches its function: pragmatic, sturdy, tough, and plain.
Batman's car is ugly, there's no denying that.
: : :
Kal's pale body glows like starlight, sprawled against the dull black paint of the Tumbler. A bare foot is braced against one of the wide front wheels, dark hair fans against the dark windshield. He is panting.
Bruce loves that he can make Kal's breath come fast, make him breathless with desire. Without even touching him.
Just by looking at him.
He keeps looking.
Kal's arousal is plain and stark against the blackness, but a smile flickers briefly on his mouth. "Bruce, my dark star, my love," he murmurs between breaths, "I will never quite understand why you like to see me draped across your damn ugly car like one of those ludicrous centerfold calendars." He pulls his hands over his head and lolls seductively across the front of the car, arching his back in an exaggerated parody of cheesecake. Pulling a ridiculous pout with his beautiful mouth--though not ridiculous enough to keep Bruce's pulse from leaping with desire--he whispers huskily, "Is this some kind of human male sexual response thing, linking cars and decorative sexual objects?"
Batman can't help but snort slightly, although it's all he can do to keep from crossing over to the car, breaking this moment of delicious stasis into a thousand pieces of ecstasy. "You're much more than decorative, Kal."
Kal licks his lips, perhaps unconsciously, perhaps unaware that the slight touch of pink against pale skin makes Bruce even harder than he had thought possible. Perhaps.
"And am I more than just a sexual object to you, Bruce?"
Kal's voice is light and teasing, a feather-flick across Bruce's eardrums. He feels dizzy for a moment. "You're the object of everything," he says without thinking.
Kal laughs, but not before the flicker of shy surprise goes across his face. "You sweet-talker," he starts, but the flash of startled pleasure is the last straw for Bruce, and he's up against his lover, dark gloves on pale skin, black cape like shadows on shining snowfall. He pushes Kal against the ugly metal and kneels to make him shiver with rapture. Luminous. Opalescent. Passion like light.
Batman's car is ugly: brusque, brutal and pragmatic.
Bruce Wayne has a keen appreciation of contrasts.