rubbed raw 🦇 18+.
Bruce is sick. Infected, ailing, unwell, ill.
That reporter from The Daily Planet is a disease. One permeating every single cell of his body. One that, so far, feels positively incurable.
“Mr. Wayne.”
It could be anyone, calling Bruce’s name. He’s heard it constantly at the gala tonight, like a stay at home mother hearing “mom.” It’s starting to grate.
“Bruce.” He replies, gruff. “Call me Bruce,” he says, turning around.
The body attached to the voice immediately quells any residual feelings of annoyance, but instead brings about the type of feeling that Bruce usually tries to ignore.
The reporter (according to the Daily Planet badge clipped to his breast pocket, directly in Bruce’s eyeline) nervously pushes his glasses up his nose, clearing his throat. There’s ink stains on his thick fingers, and Bruce wonders distantly if they’d smudge off with sweat.
When he doesn’t open his mouth again, Bruce sighs. He’s got to get better at dodging the press.
“..Yes?”
There’s a pad being pulled from the inner pocket of the reporter’s suit jacket, his other hand outstretched. “I’m Clark Kent, a reporter at the—,”
“Yes, Mr. Kent, I can see that.” He interrupts. “What’s your assignment about this time? My supposed ‘sexual’ escapades? My support for Gordon as Police Commissioner? Rumors that I’m a hermit?”
“..Err, no, Mr. Wayne.”
He lets the silence sit, almost like he wants Bruce to reflect on his tone.
“I was hoping to discuss your philanthropy in regards to Gotham’s orphaned children.” It’s then that he clicks his pen, his gaze steeled behind the thick lenses of his off-kilter glasses.
This is surprising, a complete diversion from the first read Bruce had gathered from him. His body language, his clothing, his demeanor—none of it says no-nonsense journalist.
Yet there he was: not letting Bruce frustrate him to the point that he turns tail and leaves.
And this, this revelation, only furthers the feeling that he’d been trying to quell down earlier.
“Then let’s discuss. Ask your questions.”
His brusk tone garners a laugh from Kent—one that’s deep, warm, and happy. In polite society, nobody laughs because they’re happy.
Bruce’s cock twitches in his expensive boxers, under his even more expensive suit pants, and his cheeks flush.
“They’ve got you wrong, don’t they? You’re focused on business over pleasure, clearly. Don’t you know that all work and no play’ll make you dull?” Clark’s overfamiliar, teasing words are punctuated with a wide grin, and it’s all Bruce can do, really, not to return it.
This proves worse, for Bruce. No one talks to him like this anymore. No one ever thinks they can, like he’ll bite off someone’s head for making a joke. It’s lonely, being feared.
“I’ve been told, yes,” Bruce deadpans. He can feel his eyes crinkling when a smile cracks over his face (involuntarily) and Clark’s shoulders visibly drop from where they were sitting at his ears. “Shall we find somewhere quieter, for your interview?”
“I’d hate to take you away from the party like that,” Clark replies, looking rather nervous again. “We can always arrange for another time, or a phone call.”
“Nonsense.” Bruce says. “Follow me.”
Gray light filters through the gauzy curtains pulled over the windows of the master bedroom, casting an illusory quality to the scene playing out in the middle of the room, on the bed.
Clark’s long since over working to stretch Bruce out, his big hands now gripping into the back of Bruce’s thighs as he fucks into him.
“Please,” Bruce says, his voice sounding too much like a whine for his own taste. “Let me, fuck, let me touch myself?”
“You remember what I said, Bruce.”
Bruce can’t help the way his eyes roll, nor can he help the way his cock jumps at Clark’s deep voice saying his name like that. Like a reproach.
“Mmphf,” Bruce hums, a sneer on his lips as he clenches his eyes shut, breathing heavily through his nose.
And there’s that laugh again. Clark seems to think his pleading is funny, his laughter indulgent as one of his ink-stained hands moves to fiddle with the head of Bruce’s cock.
“Aw, don’t be upset,” Clark says, the smile on his face evident in his voice.
A moan rips from his lips as Clark’s hand moves, his fingers tight around the tip, still teasing as his hips piston into Bruce’s.
“You’re horrible,” Bruce pants, sounding like it’s a revelation he’s just come to. But he appreciates it. Likes being told what to do, letting his brain shut off as he’s fucked senseless. No one ever lets him let go, like this. Not be in command.
“No one will believe you.” Clark replies, his glasses fogging up. Bruce can’t help but watch the way his abs ripple, the veins in his forearm flex as their bodies move together. “Maybe if you’re nice, I’ll suck your cock after.”
The thought of Clark’s pink lips and smart mouth wrapped around his length makes Bruce’s eyelashes flutter as his eyes roll back, finishing so strong his back bows off of the bed. He’s nodding, saying yes, begging please, unable to think of anything, really, as stars supernova behind his eyes.
“I’m barely even touching you, baby. Real easy, aren’t you?” Clark goads, leaning closer to Bruce as his hips work, chasing his own orgasm while Bruce clenches around him.
“Oh, that’s right,” he growls, eyes on the pleasured grimace on Bruce’s face below him. “Y’like it when I’m a little bit mean.”
Bruce’s come glistens in the hair on Clark’s stomach, a sight that feels altogether too satisfying to Bruce. His body is heavy, relaxed, Clark’s arms wrapped tightly around him as his eyes fall closed, a faceful of pectoral more than enough to pull him into sleep.
However, the only thing that greets Bruce Wayne when he wakes up with the sunrise is the subconscious grinding of his hips into the mattress, and his black boxers wet with come.
from the author: NO happy ending. so sorry. NOT!
this was my first time writing these two, and what these two, um, did, and i had so much fun. don't take me as a super serious whole hearted shipper, (c'mon this is an x reader fan fiction account,) but i really enjoyed being a dabbler.
lmk what you thought and if you want more, and if you enjoyed, PLEASE REBLOG!
thanks!
xx ness
@uzmacchiato for the dividers!