Hoot
A/N - Two fics in one day! And they said it couldn't be done. Anyway, here is day 9 of Nym's Tickleween. The prompt is Owl, so I wrote the dumbest Superbat fic known to man. Please enjoy responsibly.
Word Count: 929
“You could’ve been Owlman,” Bruce Wayne rarely had time to sit and read a book, but he did today; at least until Clark decided that the quiet was too much for him.
“In another universe my brother is,” Bruce clicked his tongue, not wanting to look up from his book.
“But like, there’s only two nocturnal flying animals,” Clark added, resting his chin on his fist as if he was deep in thought. “I guess sugar gliders and flying squirrels kinda fly too but not really.”
Bruce did not reply, letting Clark ramble about the logistics of flying versus gliding. Clark was exceptional at having conversations with himself, which Bruce also did, but the reporter could have full on arguments with himself that would end up with him mad later. It was cute.
Bruce reached for the steaming mug of tea Alfred had brought just before Clark’s spontaneous realization, raising it to his lips.
“I could be having sex with Owlman,” Bruce choked on his tea. “Oh, sorry Bruce. It’s just funny to think of you dressed as an owl instead of a bat. I wonder if you would hoot as a safe word.”
“Clark, you need to shut the fuck up right now,” Bruce was now looking at the man, his steely blue eyes full of tangled emotions. “I do not want one of the kids to hear that.”
“I don’t hear any of them nearby,” Clark replied, wearing the smuggest of smiles. He crossed his legs and tilted his head to the side. “I hear how fast your heart is beating though.”
Bruce did not blush, and he had not blushed since he was a child, however if he hadn’t trained himself out of this normal human behavior, his face would have been beet red. Having a super powered boyfriend was amazing, but right now it was not only an irritant, but a major inconvenience.
“What’s gotten into you?” Bruce’s voice was incredulous.
“What? Don’t you like it when I flirt with you?” Clark waggled his brows. “But, yeah. I found this cool book about owls, and I thought about you. This one looks like you.”
Clark had already placed a bookmark where the owl of note was, so when he opened the book, he was quick to turn it around and show Bruce the photo.
The photo was of a long-eared owl with the widest of eyes and completely drenched. It was depressing to look at. The ears were straight up, almost looking like Bruce’s cowl.
Bruce took in a deep breath, “That’s nice Clark.”
“I thought so too.”
Bruce looked back down at his book, reopening it to where he last left off, praying to some sort of deity for Clark to go back to reading quietly. Unfortunately, no one was listening.
Before Bruce could blink, Clark had sped over to him, picking him up to put him in his lap. Taking the book from his hands, Clark placed it on the side table before turning all his attention to Bruce.
“I thought you said the other night that you were going to “humor me” more,” Clark’s warm breath on Bruce’s ear made the hair on the back of his neck raise.
“I have been humoring you,” Bruce tried to ignore the shiver surging through his nerves.
“You’ve just been talking to me.”
“That’s what humoring is,” Bruce retorted, swinging his legs around in an attempt to stand up, though Clark quickly wrapped his hands around Bruce’s middle.
“I was hoping you’d smile a little,” Clark’s fingers curled into Bruce’s belly, forcing out a soft gasp. “Oh, what was that?”
“Clark,” Bruce warned, though knew his words had no effect as he felt Clark’s chest bounce as he chuckled. “Don’t.”
“Threatening me will just make it worse,” Bruce huffed at Clark’s reply, staring a hole in the floor so he didn’t have to look Clark in the eyes. Bruce didn’t have to be the world’s greatest detective to know there was absolutely no way out of this situation without Clark getting what he wanted. This, of course, frustrated Bruce, though just feeling Clark’s warmth radiating into him made Bruce feel fuzzy.
Fingers tapping into Bruce’s belly, the man squirmed like an anxious child on a mall Santa’s lap. Hands gripping Clark’s wrists, Bruce continued to turn his head away, his eyes tightly shut. His lips wobbled, though his mind fought the sensation while Clark’s wriggling fingers sped up over time.
“Why won’t you just let me see you smile?” Clark teased, his lips grazing the shell of Bruce’s ear. “C’mon Bruce. Just one little smile.”
“No,” Bruce would deny the fact that his statement sounded more like a whine, though Clark found it endearing.
“Fine,” Clark pressed his face into the crook of Bruce’s neck. “I guess I’ll have to up the ante then.”
“Asshole,” Bruce managed to let out before becoming overwhelmed by a surge of happy laughter; Clark peppering kisses all over Bruce’s neck, driving the man insane. “No! Dammit Clark, stop!”
“If you want me to stop,” Clark pulled his face away, then pressed his forehead against Bruce’s, the noses touching, “you’ve got to hoot for me. It’s your safe word, remember?”
Bruce’s face fell, knowing that he was never going to allow himself to do something so stupid. Of course, once Clark’s lips were back upon his neck and his fingers dancing over each of his more sensitive spots, Bruce felt a smidge more inclined to follow Clark’s suggestion. Ego aside, it was going to be a long night for Bruce.