Embers
Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Reader
Rated: M
Read on AO3
Warnings: PiV smut, oral (f receiving), bruce being a mcr fan
Summary: Every day, you learn more and more about your boyfriend. Today, you learn he is quite a musician. 3.5k words
You had an awful day at work, and you were glad to be back at home. To your surprise, instead of silence, you were greeted by the sound of a piano. It sounded like it was being played live. You didn’t even know there was a piano in Wayne Tower. The sound took you into a room you had never been in before. There were several rooms you had never gone in before.
The master bedroom had been untouched since Martha and Thomas’ passing. Martha had a room dedicated to her hobbies. Sewing, knitting, and crocheting, while Thomas had an office he used.
And while you were never explicitly told not to go into them, you’ve never seen anyone go into those rooms, so you took that as a silent rule that they were off-limits. You didn’t mind though, you sympathized with Bruce’s grief. They weren’t just rooms, they were memorials. The sound of the piano led you to one of these rooms, in a desolate hallway away from the room you shared with Bruce. The door was ajar, and you couldn’t help your curiosity. You peeked.
The room was a study, with bookcases lining the walls, going right up to the high ceilings. There was a rich mahogany desk, a small sitting area around a fireplace.
And a grand piano. With your boyfriend sitting on the piano bench, playing almost… passionately.
The song was familiar, but you couldn’t quite place it.
His long fingers move effortlessly across the keys as if he’s played this song a hundred times before.
You open the door more and enter the room, but Bruce is so focused on playing, he doesn’t even notice you.
Usually, he is astute, and you’ve never gotten the drop on Bruce before.
The floors creak beneath you, yet he still doesn’t notice.
Under normal circumstances, it would have been tempting to try and scare Bruce. You knew you’d be able to do it. You were now standing right behind him, and he didn’t notice. But there was something about how he moved and how his fingers glided across the keys. The way he was completely absorbed in playing the emotional song. As the sound of the rich piano filled the air, you realized something.
Your nerd ass boyfriend was playing a piano rendition of Helena by My Chemical Romance. A smile played on your lips. God. You were so in love with him.
It was clear this song meant something to him. You knew that music was deeply personal for Bruce, and this seemed to be no different.
Finally, the song reaches its beautiful end. Bruce’s fingers trail away from the keys, and his head turns slightly towards you, he lets out a breath. You can’t tell if he’s startled by your presence or not.
“Hey,” he greets quietly.
“Hi,” you greeted, approaching his side. He looks back at the piano. You put your hand on his shoulder. “I didn’t know you could play.”
He chuckles and nods slowly, “I play. I play when I’m stressed.” His fingers tap on the top of the piano idly, thumbing a few keys. “You can sit… if you’d like?” He gestures to the empty spot on the piano bench.
Bruce was a fairly large man, but you had no problems invading his personal space. You slid into the spot next to him. Leg against leg, shoulder against shoulder.
“You’re stressed?” You asked, and then internally cringed. You couldn’t believe that just left your mouth. Of course, he’s stressed.
“I am,” he sighs, letting out a breath of frustration. “Someone keeps leaving bombs around Gotham.” He rubs his thumb over the piano key.
Bruce stares at the floor, and then turns to look over at you, his mouth turning up into a small smile, “It’s nice to have you here, though.”
You take one of his hands, and you lace your fingers with his. You brought the back of his hand up to your lips, and you gave his hand a soft kiss.
“I’ll always be here for you,” you said quietly, looking into his eyes. Bruce’s pale face had a bit of color in his cheeks now.
A simple kiss to his hand was enough to leave Veangence himself flustered. You’d never say this to his face, but Bruce was so cute.
“How long have you played the piano?” You asked.
“A while." He tore his eyes from yours, and he looked back at the grand piano the two of you were sitting at. “My mom used to teach me when I was young.” As he speaks, he plays some idle notes on the black and white keys, nothing coherent, just simple notes. "It's helpful for when I'm working through something, you know?"
“Yeah,” you said. Everyone needed a way to work through their emotions. You thought that Bruce’s way was dressing up as a bat and beating up criminals, but it seemed like there were still layers of Bruce to uncover. Perhaps the piano was a way for him to feel close to his mother. Or maybe it was just something to do. "She must have been talented," you commented, unsure of what else to say.
Bruce nodded, “Very.” His voice is soft, but his tone reflects his affection for his parents. He took a breath as he let his fingers rest on the piano again, “You play anything?”
“No.” You responded. “Well. I played cello for a few years in high school but— I wasn’t really good at it,” you chuckled. “Plus they’re an expensive instrument.”
Bruce gave you a smile. “The cello is an interesting choice,” he commented. “What do you like about it?” He was genuinely curious about what his girlfriend was interested in, even if it was just an offhand comment.
“I was enthralled by the deep and melancholic sound of it,” you told him, reaching out and pressing a white key on the piano. It was silent for a few moments, and you remembered an experience as a child. Your father had won tickets to the orchestra, and your mother wasn’t able to take off, so your dad took you. You could remember dressing up in a pretty dress, your father trying his best at styling your hair. You could remember the beautiful music and the pretty musicians. You could remember being in awe of it all.
“Also when I was a kid, my family went to the Gotham Orchestra and the cello player was really cute,” you said as fragments of the memory played in your head. “Had a bit of a schoolgirl crush.”
Bruce laid his head on your shoulder. “You have a thing for musicians?”
“Apparently,” you responded, a smile on your lips.
Bruce chuckled. “That’s good to know.”
Another several moments pass, and Bruce turns to you. Your eyes go from the smooth black-and-white keys of the piano to Bruce’s stunning blue eyes.
“I love you,” he blurted out. He looked surprised that he even said it. You laughed.
“I love you too,” you said, leaning in to press a tender kiss against his lips. Bruce turned his body more towards you, he put his hand against the case of the piano.
Bruce’s lips linger against yours, even after the two of you parted.
The taste of your lips, your smell, every part of you seems to have an effect on him. He feels like he’s floating, like he’s falling down a rabbit hole of feelings and emotions and he can't stop himself. He wants to tell you he loves you again and again.
And so he does.
“I love you,” he said again.
You delicately touch his jaw, gently holding it in your hand, as if he were made of glass.
“I love you more,” you said, a giddy feeling rising up in your chest as if you were a young girl with your first crush.
Bruce smiled at you, an almost boyish smile. “Oh yeah?” He responded, a teasing look in his eyes, which flicked down to look at your lips, then back up to your eyes. “I’m not so sure about that,” He trails off, taking deep breaths as he struggles to focus, his blue eyes watching your lips, wanting them again.
His intensity caused your heartbeat to quicken, hammering hard against your chest. Even after living with him, he still made you nervous in the best way.
“I am,” you respond.
Bruce leaned down, bringing his lips down to yours, firm and eager. His mouth moved onto her like a man in a desert, greedy for any type of moisture, and he wants to devour her.
The world around him faded into nothing, and all he can focus on is you. Your taste on his lips, and the way you sound with his hands on you, the two of them lost in the other. He held you close and only wants to get closer. He only wants to be here in this moment, with you.
His kiss invoked a feeling inside of you, so passionate that it made you want to burst. He tilts your head back, his large hand on your jaw, the tips of his fingers in your hair. Your lips part for him, his tongue slipping into your mouth, stealing away your breath. You’re completely lost in the moment, lost in the way he touched you, the way he kissed you. The way the ends of his hair tickled your face as he kissed you.
You bumped into the keyboard, your arm pressing down on a few keys, pulling you out of the moment, out of the kiss. You broke the kiss off to look at the piano, but Bruce guides your head back to him, back to his lips.
Bruce just can’t get enough of you. His lips move from your lips to your cheek, then your jaw. He leaves a trail of kisses to your neck. Bruce whispers your name with reverence.
“Bruce,” you said, your voice an octave higher than normal. “I—I want to hear another song,” you whispered to him. You wanted to know everything about Bruce. You wanted to know more about this room you’ve never been in; you wanted to know more about his skill in playing piano. Bruce’s kisses pause for a moment before he stands up.
“I’ll play you a song later,” he murmured, effortlessly lifting you up into his arms. “I want you,” he said. You were glad that he was holding you because you were feeling weak in the knees.
“Promise?” You smiled.
“What? About the song?” Bruce asked as he carried you off to your shared bedroom. “Yeah, I promise,” he took in a deep breath of your scent.
Bruce sat on the bed and held you in his lap. You thanked god for those sweatpants that he just loved wearing. You could feel every inch of his hardness against your thigh.
“I haven’t even showered yet,” you warned him, leaning into him.
“I don’t care,” Bruce responded, his voice huskier than normal. His hands trailed down to hold your hips.
You take his bottom lip between your teeth, giving it a playful nip before pulling back.
Bruce looks completely enthralled by you.
He is.
Bruce maneuvers you into a lying down position on the bed. “Close your eyes,” he told you.
You raised an eyebrow but did as he said, closing your eyes.
It was quiet for several agonizing moments, before you felt Bruce’s hands on your body, gently removing your clothes. You moved around, helping him in removing your clothes. You wanted to open your eyes, to see him, with his kiss-swollen lips and his eyes dark with lust, but you resisted.
Bruce removed everything but your underwear.
“Can I—” you began.
“No,” Bruce responded, his hands on your legs, moving them around and spreading them apart, so he could slide between them. You felt the weight of him settle between your legs, his hands on either side of your shoulders. He dipped down and started a trail of kisses from your neck, down to your collarbone. His tongue darted out to lick around your collarbone. He took a moment to suck at the sensitive skin there, no doubt leaving a hickey. You laughed, your hands going into his hair.
“I’ll pay you back tenfold,” you warned him. You could feel him smile against your skin.
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he rasped out.
Bruce continued his worship of your body, taking one of your nipples into his mouth, his tongue twirling around the bud while his other hand plucked at your other breast. His hips lightly ground into yours, seeking out some sort of reprieve from the aching between his legs. Your hands go into his hair, tangling your fingers in his messy dark locks. You let out a soft sigh as his mouth began to pay attention to your other nipple. Your body felt several degrees hotter, and it only increased as Bruce began to kiss down further. Down your abdomen, and finally, his face was level with your cunt. He guided your legs to rest on his bare shoulders.
“All this for me?” He asked, using his index finger to rub the wet spot in your underwear. Your breath hitched, and your pussy clenched. Heat coiled in your abdomen at what was to come.
“All yours,” you said, finally opening your eyes.
Bruce kissed your thigh and then kissed your clothed pussy. He happily pressed his nose against the wet spot, breathing your scent in. Bruce always thought that the smell of your needy cunt was the best scent he had ever experienced. Helooked almost pensive for a moment, before easily ripping your underwear.
“Bruce!” You gasped.
“I’ll buy you more,” he whispered, sliding a finger into your aching folds. “I’ll buy you anything you want,” he said with a happy sigh. He tossed aside the torn underwear.
“I can’t believe you did that,” you breathed out, tugging on his hair.
“You’re complaining?” He rubbed at your clit with his thumb.
“No,” you responded, tugging more on his hair. “It was hot.”
“I’ll have to remember that,” he murmured.
A laugh bubbled up from your chest. “That’s not an invitation to— oh fuck.”
His tongue began to lap at your folds, effectively ending your train of thought. Bruce knew how to play your body like it was an instrument. After nearly two years, Bruce had figured out where to lick, where to rub or pinch to make you squirm and moan. An upside to dating a detective, you suppose.
His fingers parted your lips, and you could feel his index finger twitching inside of you. He slid another digit in. You bit down a moan. Bruce pulled back. “Alfred isn’t home,” he purred. He kissed your thigh again. “Be loud,” he nearly begged. “I want to hear you scream my name.”
“Gotta earn it, big boy,” you breathed.
You heard him chuckle against your thigh, before diving back in, teasing your clit with the tip of his tongue.
It was a challenge, and oh did Bruce love a good challenge.
Bruce slowly thrust his fingers in and out of you, setting an agonizing pace. You felt fuzzy as he angled his fingers just right to hit the spot inside of you that made you sing. You felt like a string, being pulled so tight, you were about to snap.
“Bruce,” you groaned. “Bruce, Bruce, Bruce.” You chanted. Bruce ate pussy like it was the last time he’d ever be able to taste you. Desperate to savor you. And it was very possible that it could be. Bruce had his eyes closed, as if he was experiencing euphoria just from your taste, your moans. Your body twitched and jerked, and Bruce used his strong arm to hold down your hips as he sucked on your clit. He moaned against your sensitive folds. You rolled your hips, eager to find your release.
Finally, you found release, your back arching off of the bed as shockwaves of pleasure ripped through you. You sobbed out his name, your body arching off of the bed as you felt your orgasm hit you. Bruce continued teasing your clit as you rode the shockwaves of pleasure.
And you finally relaxed, the tension leaving your body, something that Bruce noticed.
“You must have really needed that,” he mused, removing his fingers and crawling up your body to kiss you, his lips still wet with your slick.
Your breaths were ragged, and you wrapped your arms around his neck. He looked like the cat that caught the canary.
“You look impressed with yourself,” you breathed out.
“I am,” he said, adjusting himself so he could easily remove his pants. “I should have timed that. Couldn’t have been longer than three minutes.” He sounded so pleased with himself, it caused a laugh to bubble up from your chest.
“Thank you,” you said, watching his cock spring out of his pants. The tip was an angry red, wet with precum.
“For?”
“The orgasm. I really did need it.”
“I plan on giving you another. I still haven’t heard you screaming my name.”
You sat up, and reached down, taking his length into your hand. He let out a shaky breath.
“All this for me?” You asked, a smirk tugging on the corners of your lips. You spread the precum around the tip using your thumb, not taking your eyes off his face.
“All yours,” Bruce responded, reaching over to the bedside table, and grabbing a condom. “I need to be inside of you, right now,” Bruce said, moving your hands. He ripped into the aluminum foil of the condom and slid it onto his length. You opened your legs wider for him.
“Then what are you waiting for?” You asked, your hands on his shoulders as he leaned over you.
Bruce growled, leaning down to kiss you as he slowly entered you. He let out a series of little gasps and growls as he bottomed out. “So wet,” he breathed out. “So wet, all for me,” he said right in your ear, his warm breath fanning over your ear and neck. His hair fell in his face. “I don’t know if I’ll last long,” he admitted as he began to move.
“That’s okay,” you whined. “I just wanna watch you come,” you said, brushing his hair out of his face.
It was almost too much for Bruce. The way your slick, velvety walls fluttered around him with each thrust was already sending Bruce to the edge, but he was holding back. He wanted to enjoy this, and not blow his load immediately.
You could swear that Bruce was made for you. He slotted so perfectly between his legs. His cock was the perfect size
Your chest was pressing up against his. Bruce’s lips just barely brushed against yours with each movement of his hips. Your hands found their way back to his hair, tangling your fingers in his dark hair, holding him close to you. The wet noises echoed through the room, only barely drowned out by Bruce’s soft whimpers. You could feel his heart through his chest, beating wildly, only for you. He dips down, licking a stripe down your chest, he enjoyed the salty taste of your sweat. His movement was languid, each snap of his hips was made with purpose.
“Bruce,” you whined, lifting up your hips. “Faster,” you begged. Bruce leaned down and quieted you with a kiss. He didn’t listen to you, still lazily fucking you. He propped himself above you, his chest brushing against yours, while his free hand reached down to rub at your swollen nub. You watched as Bruce’s eyes slipped close in pleasure. You were charmed as you watched him. His lips slightly parted, breathing in your air. Each movement of his hips pulled a noise out of Bruce. He growled your name, causing you to clench around him. You noticed that Bruce’s thrusts were getting sloppier.
“Please—” he begged. “I need you to come again,” he choked out. "Need to feel you— fuck.”
“I’m close,” you panted out. “Don’t stop.”
He didn’t stop. He kept up his sloppy but steady pace his heart hammering in his chest.
“Bruce!” You keened as your toes curled and your back arched into him. Your body was tingling as your orgasm swept through you. Bruce let out a whine, and he soon followed. His body jerked, and you could feel him twitching inside of you as he came. He laid his head on your shoulder as he caught his breath.
“I love you,” he whispered breathily.
“I love you more,” you said with a grin. He smiled in response. Bruce took in a breath as he pulled out of you, and disposed of the condom in the nearby bin.
“I’ll let you win this one. You know. Because I love you,” he said as he laid back down, pulling your sweaty bodies together.
You let out a thoughtful hum as you relaxed into him.
“What are your plans for the rest of the evening?” Bruce asked his lips against your cheek.
“Spending time with my boyfriend, hopefully.”
“What a coincidence,” Bruce murmured. “Because I was hoping to spend more time with my girlfriend.”
Even with the blackout curtains, you could still see his bright eyes. You felt bubbly in your chest, and you smiled brightly at him.
Bruce’s breath hitched as he gazed at your bright smile.
This, he decided, was certainly worth living for.
