“So, what’s this I hear about you being deathly ticklish?”
Years of training was the only thing that kept Bruce from freezing in his tracks at the voice suddenly inches from his ear. He continued tightening the small screw on his grappling hook, ignoring the sudden pounding of his heart.
"Deathly is a stretch." Maybe if he didn't turn around Diana would get bored and walk away.
"But the 'ticklish' part is not?" Naturally, Diana reached over and goosed Bruce's side when she said 'ticklish'.
Despite the fact that he was expecting the touch, Bruce still flinched away from the nimble fingers gently pinching in just the right spot to make him squirm. He sighed, knowing she wouldn't drop this any time soon. "Who have you been talking to?" He asked, setting his tools down and turning so he was face-to-face with his assailant.
Bruce never failed to surprise Diana. She was expecting him to lie, or threaten to kill Clark. She did not think he would accept defeat so easily. "Is this common knowledge?" Diana asked, wearing a sly smile. "Why am I just now finding out about it?"
"It's on a need-to-know basis." Bruce was too experienced to dart his eyes around in his search for escape. He already knew Diana would be able to read his next move before he even decided on one. Now his only goal was to mitigate the damage she was sure to inflict upon his ego.
"And Clark needs to know, but I do not?" Uh oh. That was a dangerous tone. Bruce did not like being on the receiving end of that one bit.
"Clark doesn't know how to keep his hands to himself."
"Unfortunately for you, we share that trait."
Bruce was too dignified to try to run away, but that didn't mean he had to just lay down and take it. When Diana reached out a hand, presumably to latch onto his sides, Bruce seized her by the wrist. He was in the process of throwing her over his shoulder when Diana's free hand found it's way to his topmost ribs.
Bruce bit his tongue in his haste to stifle his laughter, but he could not hide the full body flinch from Diana's keen gaze.
"So it's true!" She laughed with delight. She easily pulled her hand free and crowded Bruce against his workbench, hands roaming over his torso in search of a better spot that might draw his laughter out.
"Why--are you both--so--fascinated by this?" Bruce was trying to shield as much of his body from Diana's wandering fingers as he could. Unfortunately for him, Diana was faster. When he drew his arms in to protect his ribs, she tickled at his stomach. When he pushed her hand away to shield his stomach, she wiggled quick fingers under his chin. When he shrieked and slammed his chin down towards his chest...well, her eyes lit up and she chased after that sound.
"This is why." Diana laughed as she gently tickled at the thin skin of Bruce's neck. His shoulders had come up to try and protect his neck, and he had both hands latched around Diana's wrists. Diana didn't seem to mind, ignoring his attempts to stop her and testing to see if his ears were as bad as his neck.
They were worse.
"Diana!" Bruce gasped, jerking away from the nails gently scratching the shell of both ears. The laughter she had been so desperate to hear finally came out, and Bruce was helpless to stop the onslaught of giggles pouring out of him.
"Clark did not mention this." Batman was not only giggling, but blushing. His cheeks had taken on a soft pink glow, and the hapless smile stretched across his face seemed to take 10 years off him.
"Dihihihihi come o-hahaha-on!"
Diana decided to take pity on him, and move on. She quickly tickled down his neck, across his collar bones, down his ribs, ending at his stomach.
"Jehehehe-Jesus Chri-hihihihihi-st!" Bruce cackled, practically folding in two at the onslaught of sensations.
"Clark only spoke of your stomach being sensitive." Diana was deftly avoiding Bruce's hands once again. "We will have to compare notes later."
Bruce shook his head, not confident that he could form any words between his near-constant laughter. He couldn't slip past Diana, though not for lack of trying, and he couldn't catch her hands long enough to gather his sanity. There was only one other tactic he could think of. Bruce darted his own hands out, latched onto Diana's sides, and squeezed as fast as he could.
"Bruce!" Diana gasped, hands finally leaving his body as she drew her arms inwards to protect her sides.
"Does Clark know about this?" Bruce was panting as he caught his breath, but he did not slow down his attack. When Diana brought her arms in to block her sides, Bruce went for her stomach. When she laughed and gently pushed him away, his hands darted up to her neck. When that didn't get a response beyond her pushing his hands away, Bruce seized his opportunity and buried his hands into her armpits, fingers wiggling furiously.
"Ohohohoh my!" Diana laughed, jerking away from Bruce to try and protect herself. Bruce followed after her, using her distraction and his bulk to his advantage and wrapping Diana in a bear-hug from behind.
"Not so fast, Princess." Bruce had his left arm wrapped around Diana's waist, and was squeezing her hip. His right arm was stretched across her torso, and his hand was buried in her left armpit.
"You--are--terrible!" Diana laughed, hands loosely wrapped around Bruce's wrists as she let her laughter flow freely. It was not lost on him that she was allowing him to get his so-called revenge.
"You started it!" Bruce pointed out, walking his left hand up Diana's side, gently digging into her ribs at random.
"Actually," A voice said in Bruce's ear, causing him to let go of Diana and whirl around, a batarang appearing in his hand from seemingly thin air. "I did." Clark smirked, unphased as the sharp blade was held to his throat.
"Are you trying to give me a heart attack?" Bruce grouched, the batarang disappearing just as fast as it had appeared.
"Clark, you must see this." Was all the warning Bruce got before those damn nails were back to dancing across the shells of his ears.
"Son of a bihihihihihihitch!" The laughter was once again pouring freely from Bruce. He knocked Diana's hands away and clamped his hands over his ears to keep them safe. "I thought that was going to be our little secret?" He had to turn to say this to Diana, and that's when he realized just how close the two of them were standing. One look at their faces, and he knew it was not an accident that they were crowding him between them. "....now wait a minute."
"I call his stomach." Diana's snaked around him as she drew his back against her chest.
"Clark, if we work together we can take her down." Clark looked like he might be considering it, but Bruce couldn't be sure because Diana's fingers were suddenly wriggling into his armpits as soon as he finished speaking.
"Tempting, but I've never seen you laugh before." Diana eased up, not wanting to overwhelm Bruce. Tickling him would not be any fun if it was overstimulating. "I call his neck." If Diana's smile had been scary, Clark's was downright terrifying.
"Di, we can definitely take him down together." Bruce's eyes stayed fixed on Clark's hands, and when he reached out for him Bruce did his best to flatten himself against Diana to get as far away as he could.
"Oh, so you're ticklish and a traitor." Clark didn't seem at all bothered by the hands gripping his wrists. "That calls for drastic measures."
"I hate both of you." Was the last coherent thing Bruce said for quite a while. It turns out deathly ticklish was a fitting description after all.
Okay but Bruce is minding his business at some bouji gala that Clark and Diana are also attending for fanfic purposes. And Diana has a gorgeous black feather Boa on as part of her outfit because that woman can pull off any look. And this woman can't go a single day without messing with Bruce in some way, so she slinks up to him while he's fake flirting with someone else and she slides the Boa over his neck to get his attention. She is NOT expecting his shoulders to shoot up to his ears, nor is she ready for the strangled squeal he let's out when the feathers unexpectedly drag across his skin.
Diana's smirk is terrifying when she shoves her way into Bruce's space, casually bumping the man he was flirting with aside as all her attention is focused on the blush crawling up Bruce's neck and into his cheeks.
"Do not." Bruce warns, eyes wide as Diana uses to Boa still laying around his neck to pull him closer. "Not here." He pleads ammends when she raises an eyebrow at his harsh tone.
"Clark." Diana murmers, even as she continues to lock eyes with an increasingly worried-looking Bruce. "I think it's time we make our exit." Clark must say something back, because Diana grins and Bruce has to fight the urge to take a step back. Not that it would do him any good with Diana loosely holding onto either end of the Boa still draped over the back of his neck.
“Don’t tell me you’re ticklish?!” “Well now, that seems like wishful thinking.” "No way, are you crying/begging?"
"Clark!" Bruce barked, his body jerking away without his consent and sending his hips crashing into the workbench in front of him. Everything in him was screaming at him to try to sink through the floor, even as he turned to face Clark with a glare that has sent plenty of men running. He kept his blush at bay through sheer stubbornness. He would not help Clark by embarrassing himself any further.
"Bruce." Clark breathed, a Cheshire cat grin slowly stretching over his face. His hand was still hovering midair, where moments ago he bad reached out a hand to steady Bruce as he prepared to slip by him. He was utterly caught off guard by the gasp and flinch combo that it caused. "Don't tell me you're ticklish..?!" He said slowly, as new pathways formed in his brain, mapping out all the possibilities this discovery just opened up.
"Okay, I won't." Bruce huffed, making sure to knock shoulders with Clark as he stalked past him. Well. That had been the plan, anyway. Unsurprisingly, he was stopped by the solid wall of muscle that was Clark Kent's chest.
"Not so fast." Clark was meeting Bruce's every attempt to get around him with a simple side-step to keep him backed up to the table. "I have a hypothesis. What kind of scientist would I be if I didn't run some tests?"
Bruce glared at the cocky smirk Clark was throwing his way. He was suddenly regretting his earlier refusal to come upstairs for dinner, informing Clark that he was running an experiment and it would be a waste if he didn't run his labs and test out his hypothesis. Of course, Bruce being Bruce, he spoke to Clark like he was 4 years old when he said all of this, and now it was coming back to bite him in the ass.
"One that doesn't get a chunk of kryptonite shoved into a very painful orifice."
"B, I love it when you talk dirty to me."
The indignity of Clark getting the last word was almost worse than the utter humiliation Bruce felt when a shriek left his mouth without his permission. It sounded somewhat like "Clark" and somewhat like a banshee.
"My hypothesis is that Bruce Wayne, The Dark Knight, Terror of Gotham, is secretly a ticklish softy." Clark had to raise his voice to be heard over the strangled laughter pouring out of Bruce, and the clatter of equipment on the table that was being jostled by his violent squirming.
"i'm go-hohoho-ing to fucking ki-hihihihihi-ll you." Bruce was doing his best to growl through what seemed like endless waves of laughter. Clark's arms were wrapped around his middle, one hand squeezing up and down his flank as the fingers on his other hand gently scratched any surface they could reach.
"Test number one: complete." Clark eased up on his tickling, allowing Bruce to catch his breath. It did nothing to slow the wild hammering of his heart, but he wasn't struggling against Clark's loose hold, so he figured it was more out of embarrassment than it was fear or discomfort. "Your sides are ticklish." He informed Bruce, smirking at the growl rumbling in his chest.
"Great. Are we done here?"
"What's the rush? You seemed to want to take your time earlier."
"That was important-"
"So is this. Diana's going to want to know if you have a human side after-all."
Bruce's response was once again cut off as one of Clark's hands migrated to stomach, fingers gently prodding into the muscles there.
"Test number Two: Does the Batman have a ticklish tummy?" Clark laughed in delight when Bruce's ears instantly burned red.
"This. Is. So. Childish." Bruce said through gritted teeth, refusing to let the laughter flow as he struggled against the arm wrapped around his torso and holding him in place.
"Maybe if I introduce a new variable." Clark pretended like he was talking to himself, but it was very much said to mess with Bruce. He yanked Bruce's shirt out of the waistband of his pants, smirking when Bruce cursed lowly and flexed his stomach muscles as Clark's hand made contact with his bare skin. "Yes, this should do." Clark mused, reveling in the muffled laughter already coming from Bruce before he even began moving his fingers.
"You're such a di-hihihihihihi-ck." Bruce laughed, trying a new tactic by burrowing his body backwards into Clark's chest. Naturally, that just made it easier for Clark's fingers to roam across his stomach, making a quick detour into the caverns of his bellybutton and spending some time there when Bruce squeaked.
"Wow." Clark laughed, mercifully giving Bruce a break after a few seconds of that treatment. "I didn't know you could make that noise, B."
"I am going to drown you in a pool of liquified kryptonite." The fact that he was practically boneless as he leaned back against Clark's chest when there was nothing keeping him there took some of the heat out of his words.
"Test number Two: Complete. The Batman does indeed have a ticklish tummy." Clark's laugh was cut short by the elbow jabbing sharply into his gut. "If you wanted to do a third test, you just had to ask. No need to get violent." Clark's arms once again wrapped around Bruce's torso so he couldn't leave, and Bruce was kicking himself for not pulling away when he had the chance.
"Now where to perform a third test." Clark hummed, resting his chin on Bruce's shoulder as he scanned his friend's body. His feet would be the obvious next choice, but he was enjoying having Bruce pulled flush to his chest, and more than that it seemed like Bruce didn't mind the position either. He didn't want to go and spoil it by laying him out on the floor to torment his feet. That just seemed cruel.
"How about I run a test on you, so we can compare data?" Bruce suggested, testing the strength of Clark's deceivingly loose hold. Unsurprinsingly the arms around him did not budge.
"Well now, that seems like wishful thinking." Clark huffed out a laugh, breath tickling over Bruce's neck and sending the taller man lurching away with a gasp. "Oh?" He asked, chest filled with glee as a blush quickly appeared on Bruce's neck and continued onto his cheeks.
"No." This was the first time Bruce sounded serious, which Clark deduced meant it was a well-known spot. "Clark." He already sounded like he was trying to hold his laughter at bay, and Clark had yet to do anything but tighten his arms around Bruce's waist so he couldn't slip away.
"Bruce? Anything you want to tell me before I run my final test?" This was said into the side of Bruce's neck, setting off an immediate bout of squirming and high-pitch sounds that the dark knight could not keep in despite his closed mouth.
"I will give you a million dollars to forget this ever happened."
"Well now my curiosity is piqued." Bruce was doing his best to knock Clark's face away using his own head, his body squirming at the feeling of Clark's lips just barely ghosting over the delicate skin of his neck. "How does the whole playboy thing work, if people can't even touch your neck?" This was emphasized by Clark suddenly freeing up one of his hands to drag a single finger down the other side of Bruce's neck. Bruce shouted, nervous laughter bursting out of him for a second before he got it somewhat under control.
"They usually take the money." He was still too proud to admit he didn't let his guard down like this in front of most people, thus they never got a chance to see this side of him. (The rare times someone did tickle him, whether on purpose or by accident, they didn't have the ability to hold him down and make him take it. And, wow, he would be exploring his feelings about this later. Alone.)
Clark purposefully laughed into Bruce's neck, and then laughed some more at the giggles Bruce had no choice but to let out. "You know I have to do this, right?" He was still speaking directly into Bruce's neck, and Bruce's sanity was hanging on by a thread.
"Do wh-hahahaha-what?" Bruce asked, knowing he probably would not like the answer. Or, even worse, he would like it and would have to address those feelings, at least to himself.
"Something tells me no one has ever done this to you before." And if Clark was right then he was in for a real treat. "I'm so happy I could be your first, B."
This whole thing with Clark getting the last word was really starting to grate on Bruce's nerves. He could not dwell on it though, because Clark's lips were suddenly on his neck and he was blowing hard, lips vibrating against his sensitive nerve endings. This was it. After 20+ years of being Batman, Bruce was finally going to die in the line of battle (because this meant war, Clark.)
"StopStopStopStopStopStopStop" Bruce chanted, wild laughter bursting out of him. He was trying to fold in half to escape the endless raspberry, but Clark's arms were stubbornly holding him up. Bruce's eyes were squeezed shut, and he could feel something wet running down his face. He shrieked when he felt fingers dancing along his collarbone on the opposite side of his neck, and it felt like the nervous laughter bubbling out of him would never end. "Cla-hahahaha-rk ple-hehe-please please!"
Clark had paused to draw a breath he didn't need, knowing the anticipation of it would mess with Bruce even more. He stopped when he noticed the tears gathering in the corners of Bruce's eyes, a few having leaked down across his cheeks. "Are you crying?" He asked, arms immediately letting go of their hold on Bruce's torso.
"Shut up." Bruce muttered, no real heat in his words as he wiped at his eyes, staring at the salty liquid on his fingers. He felt his face grow impossibly hotter at the realization that he had in fact been crying, albeit unknowingly.
"Did I go too far?" Clark seemed to shrink in on himself, no part of his body touching Bruce's as the other man quickly gained control over his breathing again. "It was just..so unexpected. I didn't mean to.." He trailed off, suddenly embarrassed at the state he left Bruce in.
Bruce's cheeks were still dusted with pink, there were tears still gathering in the corners of his eyes, the front of his shirt had been unceremoniously yanked out of his pants and left untucked, and his hair had fallen out of it's carefully tousled style. He looked wrecked, for lack of a better term. He also looked confused at the sudden loss of arms around his torso. And why did Clark look like a kicked puppy?
Bruce stared at Clark in silence, taking in the nervous expression on the other man's face. His arms were drawn in close to his sides, back slightly hunched as though he were trying to make himself appear smaller. The uncertainty and guilt were written clearly on his face. It was clear that the "no-touching" signals Bruce usually threw off were causing him to think he overstepped. The embarrassing accidental tears and begging probably didn't help.
"Have you drawn your conclusion?" Bruce asked, voice a bit scratchy due to the unexpected and unusual amount of laughter.
"I--look, I'm sorry. I got carried away, but I can forget this ever happened."
Bruce raised a single eyebrow at that. "It's too late for that." Clark seemed to hunch in on himself even more. Bruce ran a hand through his hair to attempt a quick fix before sticking his hands in his pockets and leaning casually against the workbench. "The money's off the table. You blew it." An easy smile appeared on his face as Clark uncurled himself at the playful tone.
"You're not...mad?"
"Oh, if you ever touch my neck again I will find a way to kill you." Bruce said it so matter-of-fact that Clark couldn't help the surprised laugh that slipped out.
"Noted." Clark would definitely be tickling his neck again, and they both knew it. Bruce all but gave him permission to do so. "Stomach and sides are fine, though?" He teased, taking a step closer with his hand outstretched.
Bruce's muscles tensed up, but he remained leaning against the desk for appearances sake. "Not if you want to keep that hand."
Clark let it drop...for now. "To answer your question; yes. I did reach my conclusion. I have to amend my hypothesis, though." Clark smirked at Bruce's enquiring sound. "You are extremely ticklish." Bruce grunted at that, his trademark scowling making a reappearance. "And a big softy."
"I think you're the first person to ever call me that." Bruce mused, slapping Clark's hand away when he stretched a finger out towards his neck.
"I made you cry from tickling and you forgave me a minute later." Clark was delighted to see a pink dusting gracing Bruce's ears and cheeks again.
"I wasn't crying." Bruce scoffed. "My eyes were watering from the unexpected sensation of...whatever that was."
"The raspberry?" Clark asked, amusement written clear on his face.
"The--" Bruce stuck his tongue out and blew a raspberry, partly to explain it, but mostly to make Clark laugh.
"Oh, this is the start of something special, B." Clark sighed, clapping Bruce on the shoulder. "I take back my earlier statement." Bruce resisted the urge to shrug Clark's hand off his shoulder. "I have not yet reached a conclusion. This question requires further research."
That got Bruce moving. He stood up straight, hands coming out of his pockets as he put a few feet of space between them. "Alfred will kill us if we're late for dinner."
"Dinner was 2 hours ago." Clark informed a genuinely surprised-looking Bruce. He really did lose all track of time when he was working. "Anyway, my research was incomplete. I can't determine if you're ticklish without testing all available variables."
"I could just tell you." Bruce offered, hastily taking a few steps back when Clark slowly started advancing on him.
"That would be corrupted data. You're biased. I need to run my own experiments." Clark put on a small burst of speed to deposit Bruce onto the couch he and Diana bullied him into putting into the cave.
"What are you--CLark! Leave my shoes alone!" Clark was sitting on Bruce's shins, slowly untying his laces and slipping his shoes off his feet.
"It's for Science, B! Now tell me, on a scale of your sides to your neck, where does this land."
Bruce's cursing and muffled laughter echoed off the walls of the cave.
Someone on the team (Arthur? Idk) walks in on Clark bullying Bruce holding Bruce around the waist, his fingers casually flexing where they're resting along his waist everytime Bruce tries to speak, resulting in a cut off curse and/or an elbow cracking against steel ribs. That same person slips back out of the room unseen (by Bruce. Clark sees but figures that's karma for Bruce solely referring to him as SuperShit for the last week and a half.) The following week Bruce is being usual blend of endearing asshole, and finds 2 hands buried in his armpits, fingerings wiggling furiously. He stands stock-still, head cocked slightly to the side and waits it out. Eventually that person drops their hands in disappointment, muttering something about too much rum and excuses themselves from the room.
Cue Clark rounding on Bruce like uh? Hello? Have you been pretending to be ticklish or something? And Bruce is like "you absolutely dweeb. That's for you. That's not for them. They don't get to see that." And then of course cue Clark and mushy and head over heels in love. Dorks. Dweebs. I love them.
“Ladies and Gentleman, I think Batman might be down for the count.” Clark was pretending to hold a microphone up to his mouth and speaking into it like he was an announcer. “Ohhhh! Nope! He’s up! That is going to hurt tomorrow.”
The corner of Bruce’s mouth pulls up into a smile at Clark’s antics as he circles Diana on the sparring mat. He dodges left as she makes a grab for him, grabbing her arm and using her own momentum to flip her over his back.
“And down goes Wonder Woman!”
Bruce drapes his body over Diana’s to try and pin her down, but she quickly reverses their positions and has Bruce in an armbar before he can even blink.
“I thought we said no powers.” Bruce grunts, trying to free his arm to no avail.
“I can’t help that I’m stronger than you.”
Bruce lets out a growl, but he doesn’t deny it. Instead, he uses every bit of training he can remember and slips out of Diana’s hold. He springs to his feet and is about to execute a flying kick when a voice catches him off guard and has him freezing in his tracks.
“You’re getting slow, old man.”
Bruce whirls around to see his second oldest son standing at the edge of the mat, arms folded across his chest as he watches the match.
“Jason?” Bruce asks before a strong pair of thighs wrap around his neck and slam him down onto the mat. Bruce wheezes as the wind is knocked out of him and doesn’t bother fighting the hold. He merely taps Diana’s thigh twice in quick succession and she releases him.
“Wonder Woman wins again! And the crowd goes wild! Ahhhhhhh!”
“Is everything okay?” Bruce asks, eyes on his son even as he accepts Diana’s hand up.
“Alfred said you were down here training.” That didn’t explain why he was at the house in the first place, but Bruce wasn’t going to push. “I couldn’t pass up the chance to see you get your ass kicked. I had no idea Wonder Woman would be here.” Jason barreled straight past Bruce to get to Diana, a charming smile on his face that Bruce couldn’t remember ever seeing. “It’s so great to meet you. I’m Jason.”
Diana let out a soft gasp of delight as she shook hands with Bruce’s son. “Diana. We have heard so much about you. It is wonderful to finally meet you!”
“Hey Jason, I’m Clark.” Clark also shook hands with Bruce’s son, reveling in this rare glimpse into their friend's personal life.
“I can’t believe you’re friends with Wonder Woman and Superman.” Jason directed at Bruce. “Seriously, why do you guys hang out with him?” This last bit was naturally directed at Clark and Diana.
Clark barked out a surprised laugh. “For his winning personality.” Bruce scowled, and Clark nodded in his direction with a grin. “Obviously.”
Jason snorted and Diana tsk’d, swatting at Clark’s arm even though she was clearly trying not to laugh too.
“Okay.” Bruce said loudly, clapping his hands together to capture everyone’s attention. “The three of you meeting is a terrible idea.” Clark and Diana’s favorite pastime seemed to be teasing Bruce, and them teaming up with Jason was just asking for trouble. It would be best to kick Clark and Diana out and herd Jason upstairs for tea with Alfred. “Break it up. Everyone out.”
Jason gasps, clutching his chest, and Bruce’s attention is once again zeroed in on him. “You’d kick out your own son?” Bruce’s brain temporarily goes offline when Jason says the S word, despite his teasing tone.
“I---” Bruce may be a man of few words, but he is never at a loss for words. Until now. He knows Jason is just teasing him, but things are still so rocky between the two of them and he’s always afraid of overstepping and scaring Jason off.
“Of course not.” Clark says forcefully, clapping a hand on both Bruce and Jason’s shoulders. Clark didn’t know Bruce especially well, but he did know that he wasn’t the best at expressing himself and he clearly didn’t mean he was going to kick Jason out. He probably just wanted some alone time with what was clearly a surprise visit from his son. Bruce kept his personal life close to his chest; Clark and Diana were surprised he even invited them to the cave to spar in the first place. “We were just finishing up here. You two go catch up. We can show ourselves out.”
“And miss me wiping the floor with him?” Jason’s grin is cocky but his posture is stiff, as though he’s afraid Bruce might really kick him out...or that Clark and Diana might leave him alone with Bruce. “That is, if you’re up for it Old Man.”
Bruce resists the urge to call for Alfred to check his blood for traces of toxins; even though this clearly must be some kind of hallucination. Jason is here. In the cave. And he wants to spend time with him. (Sure, by “Spend time with him” he means spar with him and inflict damage on him, but he would take what he could get.) This must be a new strain of Scarecrow’s toxin.
Bruce mentally shakes those thoughts off, knowing he’s being paranoid and that he is in real danger of chasing his son away with his paranoid thought process. “You really think you can take me?” He asks, mimicking Jason’s cocky smirk and throwing in a raised eyebrow.
“I’m not a skinny 15 year old anymore.” Bruce buried down the burning guilt that rose at those words. He knew Jason wasn’t trying to taunt him, and was just making friendly trash talk. Those were his own issues to deal with, and he would bury them until he had time to sort them out. Preferably in 20-30 years when he was a crazy old man wandering around the manor alone and could properly express his emotions.
“First one to tap out wins?” Bruce suggested.
“You’re on.”
They shake hands in the middle of the mat; Diana and Clark cleared off to the edges at some point in their exchange but Bruce couldn’t spare them more than a passing thought. Someone went “Ding ding ding” and then Jason was lunging at him.
“What the hell have you been eating?” Bruce grunted, rolling out from under Jason’s bulk and pressing a knee into the small of his back to try and keep him down.
Jason’s only response was a snort of laughter. He managed to get his arms under himself and surged up, sending Bruce toppling off his back. Bruce popped up before Jason had a chance to pin him down, and Jason had to throw himself out of the way of the foot that came flying at his stomach.
They danced around each other for the next few minutes, each throwing the occasional punch or kick. Clark kept up a constant stream of narration and Diana alternated who she was rooting for seemingly at random. Bruce couldn’t wipe the smile off of his face as he ducked and weaved.
“What was that move you used to do all the time?” Jason asked, ducking the fist that came flying at his face as soon as he finished speaking.
“Elaborate.” Bruce did a back flip to avoid Jason’s attempt at grabbing him.
“You know the one.” Jason’s tone should have been setting off warning bells, but Bruce was too busy trying to avoid being tackled to the ground by 250 pounds of solid muscle to pick up on it. “What if the mugger has a knife?” He asked in a passable imitation of Bruce’s Batman Growl.
Bruce’s eyes went wide and he just barely managed to dance out of Jason’s reach at the last possible second. “Jason.”
“Batman is bringing out the Dad Voice. Something serious is about to go down people.”
“You have to be prepared for anything, B.” And then Jason got his arms around him and Bruce’s life flashed before his eyes.
Okay. Maybe Clark and Diana were onto something when they called Bruce a Drama Queen.
“You’re dead.” Jason growls, jamming his fingers into Bruce’s ribs and wiggling them wildly. Bruce clamps his mouth shut, focusing all of his energy on trying to escape from what is essentially a bear hug from his hulk of a son.
“J-Jay.” He grits out, breathing heavy through his nose when Jason starts pinching around the spot where his abs faded into his sides. His whole body jolting when strong fingers start prodding at taut muscles.
“Come on Big Bird, if you can’t escape this how will you defend against the real thing?” Jason taunted, pinching up and down Bruce’s muscled sides.
“No way.” Clark breathed, the sound completely drowned out by the laugh being ripped out of Bruce’s lungs.
“Sh-hihihihi-it!” The dam breaks when Jason’s fingers find the sweet spot at the bottom of Bruce’s ribs. “Not-not there!” Bruce laughs, trying to curl his body forward. Jason’s arms crisscrossed over his chest don’t let him go anywhere, so Bruce does the next best thing his tickle-rattled brain can think of. He throws all of his considerable weight backwards, knocking Jason off-balance and sending the two of them crashing to the mats.
Bruce wastes no time catching his breath, flipping around and pinning Jason to the mat. “Oh-ho.” Bruce laughs at the alarmed look in Jason’s eyes. “You’re in for it now.”
“Who is this man, and what has he done with Bruce?” Clark whispers to Diana, neither of their eyes leaving the pair struggling on the sparing mat. Bruce looks ten years younger with the blinding smile stretched across his face as he taunts Jason. He let’s one of Jason’s hands go so he can burry his fingers into Jason’s armpit, sending the younger man into a fit of laughter, which is quickly joined by Bruce’s own laughter when Jason latches onto his side and starts squeezing.
“Jay, tag me in.” Clark Kent’s bare feet come into view, and Bruce abruptly stops his attack. He slowly looks up with wide eyes to see Clark’s cocky smirk as he holds out a hand for Jason to slap.
“Since when is this a tag team match?” Bruce knows running won’t do him any good, but he can’t help but glance around for an escape plan. He grabs Jason’s hand that was trying to sneak back to his stomach, pinning it back down to the mat.
“Since Jason was kind enough to show us a new side of you.” Diana purred into his ear and Bruce just barely refrained from jumping out of his skin as she dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms around his middle.
“This is not how tag team matches work.” Bruce protests as Jason bucks up to remind him that he’s still being pinned down. Bruce looks down at his smirking son, and his mouth quirks up into a lopsided smile against his will. “Is this why you stopped by?” He asked, amusement bleeding into his tone despite the danger he’s in.
“Alfred said you’ve been down lately.” Jason shrugged, not quite meeting Bruce’s eyes. “I told him that’s just your personality,” Clark snorted at that. “but he promised me a batch of cookies if I came. Said he’d throw in some brownies if I could get you to smile.”
“And it appears the apple did not fall far from the tree, Master Bruce.” All 4 heads swiveled to see Alfred watching from the bottom of the staircase, a fond smile on his face. Bruce scowled at his butler, not missing the hastily concealed phone that meant he probably snapped a few pictures before making his presence known. “Master Jason heard you were training and said he’d like to “take a crack at you” for old time’s sake.”
“Wait, you really used to tickle him when you were sparing?” Clark asked, disbelief clear in his voice. He wouldn’t have believed that ten minutes ago, but after seeing how comfortable Bruce was with fingers trying to burrow their way into his muscles a minute ago he was starting to reevaluate the “no touching” signals Bruce threw off.
“He was 15!” Bruce said, as though that made any difference. “I wasn’t going to punch a child!” Did they think he was some kind of monster? Sure, he could pull his punches, but he wasn’t willing to risk slipping and giving his son a black eye.
Diana snorted. “You really are a big softy.” She cooed, squeezing him around the middle in a precursor for what was to come.
“Can we wreck him now?” Clark asked, bouncing on the balls of his feet.
“Are you asking my permission?” Jason laughed. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m the victim here.” He rotated his pinned down wrists for emphasis.
“You started this.” Bruce protested, narrowing his eyes at the smirking man beneath him.
“You started this 15 years ago. I’m just finally getting around to getting my revenge.”
“I am a grown man.” Bruce protested, as though that would change anything.
“Yes, but you have the emotional intelligence of a child.” Clark laughed again, and Jason looked pleased with himself.
“I like him.” Diana laughed, breath tickling the shell of Bruce’s ear.
“If I may,” Alfred spoke up again, immune to the death glare Bruce was sending his way. “I seem to recall Master Bruce griping about Master Kent’s habit of squeezing his thighs whenever he gets up from a seat.” Bruce goes entirely still, cursing the warm feeling creeping into his cheeks. “I believe the phrase he used was “It makes me want to crawl out of my skin, Alfred.” “
“I am not going to forget this.” Bruce growls, glaring daggers at his friend-turned-enemy.
“Just as I haven’t forgotten a little boy shrieking in delight as he begged his father to send the tickle monster after him.”
You could cook an egg on Bruce’s face, it was so hot. Jason was cackling beneath him, Clark was clearly trying to hide his laughter behind his hand, and Diana gasped softly into his ear.
“I was four.” Bruce murmured, blush racing down his neck and settling across his chest.
“That is the cutest thing I have ever heard.” Diana’s laugh managed to not sound mocking, but Bruce still bristled at being called cute.
“I was four.” He reiterated, a quick intake of air cutting off any further protests when Diana unceremoniously latched onto his upper ribs and started tickling with abandon.
Bruce had just enough presence of mind to not go crashing down onto Jason, instead trying to roll sideways as his arms turned to jelly and hoarse laughter was ripped from his throat. Clark wasted no time in joining in, strong fingers latching onto the muscle of Bruce’s thigh and squeezing them at random.
“Fucking he-hehehe-hell!” Bruce gasped, laughter pouring out of him unbidden as he tried to curl into a ball on his side. Diana and Clark were hovering over him, boxing him in so he couldn’t escape, but not cheating and holding him down so he at least had a chance at fighting back. Bruce kicked out at Diana when she slipped a hand under his shirt to tickle at the bare skin of his stomach. His foot connected with something and he had a second of triumph, before he squealed.
“Ooooh I think I’ve found a good spot.” Diana was holding his ankle in a steel grip while she dragged her nails across his bare sole, drawing swirling shapes into the vulnerable skin and driving Bruce wild.
“Dickhead is going to love this.” Jason laughed. Bruce cracked his eyes open, prepared for Jason to join in the fray, but shook his head when he saw his son recording the whole thing on his phone.
“Jason.” Bruce managed to get out, once Diana released his foot and let him regain some of his sanity. “Don’t you da-ha-dare!” He reached for the phone, but Jason just buried his free hand in Bruce’s armpit and sent him collapsing back to the mat with a bark of laughter.
“I think justice has been served.” Diana said, after another minute of tickling around and behind Bruce’s bare knees where his shorts had ridden up. Bruce’s face was flushed a healthy shade of pink, and his chest was heaving as he hugged himself around his stomach and shook with laughter, rolling side to side in an attempt to shake their hands off.
Jason’s phone disappeared from view, and Bruce rolled onto his stomach and pillowed his head in his arms as he caught his breath, trying to tamp down on the residual laughter still running through him.
“You know,” Bruce looked up at Clark’s teasing tone. “You could have asked us to stop earlier.”
“I did!” Bruce protested, pushing himself into a sitting position to glare at Diana’s tittering laugh.
“You did not.”
“Let’s watch the video playback, shall we?” Jason was gloating, wagging his phone over Bruce’s head. Bruce lunged for it, snatching it away and springing to his feet. “HEY!” Jason yelped, trying to grab it back as Bruce danced out of his reach, using one hand to open up the camera app so he could delete the video
Before he could get to it a facetime call popped up, Dick’s excited face plastered across the screen. “You didn’t.” Bruce groaned, letting Jason snatch the phone back and answer the call.
“Bruce is ticklish!?” Dick’s voice rang out, skipping right over the greetings to get to the important stuff.
“Yes!” Jason crowed, spinning so his back was to the 3 heroes and he could get them all in frame. “Old man’s been holding out on us all these years.”
“I can’t believe this!”
“Wait. They never got you back?” Clark asked, sidling up next to Bruce, who was clearly trying to scowl at the phone but he couldn’t wipe the lopsided smile from his face.
“Nope. I kept that secret for almost 20 years.” Bruce said, shaking his head with a self depreciating laugh.
“You know this changes everything, right?” Diana asks, slipping her arms around Bruce’s waist and resting her chin on his shoulder.
The muscles in Bruce’s jaw twitches as he clenches his teeth in thought, leaning back against her chest. “Do....do you two want things to change?” He asks, sounding hesitant even to his own ears.
“Only if you do.” Clark says, standing in front of Bruce and blocking them from the view of Jason’s facetime call. Jason seemed to have forgotten about them anyway, caught up in his excited planning with Dick. He almost felt bad for what was to come for Bruce, but he knew he could handle it.
Bruce is quiet for a few seconds, painfully aware that both Clark and Diana could hear his heart hammering away in his chest. He licks his suddenly dry lips as he searches for something in Clark’s gaze. He must find whatever it is he’s looking for, because he nods once. “I...would like that.”
“Wow.” Jason says, appearing at Clark’s elbow. “That almost sounded like a human emotion.”
“Out.” Bruce growls. “Now.”
“Geez.” Jason mutters, hands raised in front of himself in surrender. “Touchy touchy.” He mutters, but scrambles backwards when Clark turns to stare at him.
“Do you really want to stick around and see what’s about to happen?” Clark asked, eyebrow cocked.
Bruce sputters a laugh at Jason’s disgusted expression. He hightails it for the stairs, noticing for the first time that Alfred already took the hint and made himself sparse.
“Now,” Clark turns back to Bruce and Diana, a soft smile playing around his lips. “Where were we?”
“Right...about...here.” Diana says, dotting a soft line of kisses down the left side of Bruce’s neck. Bruce whimpered, lips squeezed shut as he tried in vein not to move. “You can move, Bruce.” Diana whispered into the skin of his neck. “That’s part of the fun.”
Bruce gasped, jerking to the side to escape the soft lips dragging over the delicate skin. Clark seized his opportunity to box him in, his lips latching onto the right side of his neck. He slowly made his way up towards Bruce’s ear, while Diana began her slow trek down to his collarbones. Bruce let out a mix between a groan and a whimper, going boneless between them as he felt a new level of pleasure previously unknown to him. He didn’t know if he was going to make it through this night, but what a way to go.
Hey fickle! Do you think you would be interested in doing 11 and 24 for superbat? If not that okay, hope you’re have a good day!-bookanon💚
On a rare peaceful night in, Bruce and Clark were sat on the couch together, Bruce on one end and Clark in the middle. (Bruce's ear was still stinging from where Clark had flicked it earlier, after Bruce asked if he would be faking a yawn so he could wrap his arm around his shoulders.) On screen a couple were laying in bed together, when all of a sudden the guy rolled on top of his girlfriend and began tickling her, causing her to burst into sweet laughter. Clark positively lit up as an idea stuck him.
"Hey B?"
"Hmm?"
“Can I tickle you?”
Bruce slowly turned his head, meeting Clark's hopeful smile with a frown.
" …"
"I'll take your silence as a yes."
Bruce wasn't given a chance to react. One second he was sitting on the couch with his "loving" boyfriend, and the next he was flat on his back and being crushed to death by over 200 pounds of solid muscle. "Clark!" Bruce grunted, trying to dodge Clark's attempts at grabbing a hold of his wrists.
"The fact that you're struggling this hard tells me you must be really ticklish." Clark taunted, lighting up with glee when he saw a dusting of pink appear high on Bruce's cheeks.
"That. Is. Classified Information." Bruce protested. "Shit." Clark laughed triumphantly when he got a hold of Bruce left wrist, stretching it above his head and securing it to the couch cushions with an iron grip.
"Any last words, tough guy?"
Bruce tried one last Hail Mary and used his free hand to sucker-punch Clark in the stomach. "Motherfucker." He immediately regretted his rash decision, knuckles stinging where they managed to connect just as Clark sucked his stomach in to avoid him breaking anything.
"Oh, you're going to pay for that." The smile on Clark's face was truly the stuff of nightmares.
"Can't we talk about this?" Bruce asked, unsurprised when his right arm was also pulled above his head and secured in Clark's grip.
"Sure." Clark walked his free hand down Bruce's right arm, feeling the muscles jumping beneath his skin as he slowly made his way past his armpit and down to his ribs. "You talk." He noted every spot that caused Bruce's heartrate to spike, though his expression remained unchanged. "I'll tickle."
"Clark, this is ridiculous," Bruce said, but the corners of his mouth betrayed a hint of amusement.
"Time to find out just how ticklish the Playboy Prince of Gotham really is."
Bruce couldn't even protest at the stupid nickname Clark saw in one newspaper and refused to let go of.
"Oh fuck." Bruce breathed, yanking uselessly at his arms as Clark's fingers began their dance across his stomach. It was just dumb luck that he started with Bruce's worst spot, but laughter was pouring out of him in no time.
"Bruuuuce," Clark said it in that sing-song voice that usually irritated Bruce, but he was too busy trying to burrow backward into the couch cushions to even notice. "You're supposed to be talking remember?" a quick squeeze to Bruce's side caused him to jolt and level his gaze on Clark. "I'm holding up my end of the agreement."
"You---Are--A--SOnOfABitch." Bruce broke down into deep belly laughter when Clark slipped his hand beneath his shirt and started scratching blunt nails over his bare skin.
"That's not a very nice thing to say." Clark admonished, dipping a finger into Bruce's belly button. He let out a delighted laugh when Bruce threw his head back and cackled. There really was no better word for it.
"I'm--fuck--I'm sorry." Bruce gasped out, cheeks bright red when Clark finally took pity on him and stopped vibrating his finger into his bellybutton at a slightly inhuman speed.
"Hmmm." Clark idly tapped his fingers on Bruce's ribcage as he pretended to mull something over. "No, I think you're going to have to do better than that." He then released Bruce's arms and buried his wiggling fingers into Bruce's armpits, unbothered by the arms that came flying down to try to force him out.
"I--AmGoingTo--hahaha-fucking--KihihihihihiKILLYOU!" Bruce shouted, doing his best to curl into a ball while Clark was sitting on his thighs and pinning him in place.
"The more you threaten me, the more I'm going to tickle you." Clark warned him as he easily slipped his hands out of his armpits. Bruce had 2 seconds to calm down before Clark was using one hand to squeeze at his side, while the other once more slipped beneath his shirt to gently scratch at bare skin.
"Cl-Cl-hahaha-Clark! You fu-hahaha-fucking asshole!" Bruce's knuckles were white with how tight he was clinging to Clark's wrists, but his hands might as well be pinned above his head again for all the good it was doing him.
"Oh?" Clark asked, dipping into Bruce's belly button warningly. Bruce squealed, face flushing bright red the second the sound left his mouth, and Clark took pity on him and allowed him to pull his hand out from beneath his shirt. "It's like you want me to keep tickling you."
"Shut up Clark." Bruce growled, the red flush in his cheeks racing down his neck and disappearing into the collar of his shirt.
"Wait," Clark's smile softened at the embarrassed look Bruce was now sporting. "Do you want me to tickle you?"
Bruce couldn't help the embarrassed little whimper that slipped out, shifting nervously beneath Clark's bulk. "I don't...not want you to." He mumbled looking anywhere but at Clark.
"Really?" Clark looked like Christmas, his birthday, and every holiday in between had just come early.
"If you tell anyone about this.." Gone was the embarrassed boyfriend of 5 seconds ago. That look and voice were all Batman.
"Yeah, yeah." Clark huffed, rolling his eyes fondly. "Your stash of kryptonite. My ass. Honestly, you need new threats."
Bruce looked like he was revving up for what was sure to be a chilling new way in which he could murder Clark so, naturally, Clark chose that moment to see if Bruce's neck was as ticklish as his entire torso seemed to be. Newsflash: it was worse.
"I'm--breaking up--with both of you." Bruce managed to growl through clenched teeth as he desperately tried to hold his laughter at bay. He was sandwiched in-between Clark and Diana, the latter still in her Wonder Woman outfit, having just arrived in the cave.
"Oh please." Clark scoffed, crowding closer as he slipped his hands beneath Bruce's shirt to tease at the tensed muscles of his stomach. "You were practically begging for it."
"That-" Bruce broke off into a gasp when Diana started nuzzling at his neck. "Th-ha-t's victim blaming!" Once that first laugh slipped past his defenses it was like the dam broke, stuttering laughter tumbling out as he tried to slip sideways out of their embrace.
"You can stop with the bravado." Diana wrapped her arms around Bruce's shoulders from behind and slipped a hand beneath the collar of his shirt to gently scratch along Bruce's collarbones, resulting in a muffled shriek. Bruce promptly flushed red as the sound was ripped from him, and it took all of her self-restraint not to coo at the sight. "We all know you love this."
"I-hihihihi really don't!" Bruce protested as he tried to pry Diana's hands out of his shirt. Of course, Clark chose that moment to walk his fingers up his ribs, digging into the spaces between at random. "I ha-haha-te when you tickle my neck." He had one hand wrapped around Diana's wrist, the other around Clark's, and neither were doing him any good.
"That's why we save it for special occasions." Diana whispered into his ear, resulting in another of those muffled screeches that had Bruce turning a deeper red.
"My ears are the-haha-worst!" Bruce protested, surging forward into Clark to try to escape Diana's gentle teasing.
"We know."
"Everywhere el-hehe-else is kind of ni-hihihi-nice though."
As soon as the words processed all three of them froze. Clark and Diana's eyes met above Bruce's head, identical looks of shock on their faces, but Bruce didn't dare move his face away from where it was buried in Clark's shoulder; not until he and Diana both took a half step back and forced his hand.
"...." Bruce's face had gone from flushed to white alarmingly fast, and he looked like he was about five seconds from bolting. "I don't know why I said that."
Diana went to put her hands on her hips, gasping when one landed on the lasso. "Oh." Bruce slowly turned around, gaze locking onto the glowing rope at her hip, mouth set in a thin line. "I am so sorry." She said, holding the rope away as though Bruce might accidentally come into contact with it again. "I did not mean to use this on you, Bruce. I only meant to tease."
Bruce stared at the rope in silence, the muscle in his jaw jumping and his heart pounding almost painfully against his ribs.
"We...aren't going to make fun of you." Clark said slowly, stepping forward so he was beside Bruce instead of behind him; carefully not touching him. "We can just forget you said it. We know you didn't mean to." He offered, voice carefully neutral. "But we aren't going to make fun of you for it."
"I forgot it was there." Diana added, guilt creeping into her voice. She knew how hard it was for Bruce to trust people, and she was afraid she just lost that trust.
Bruce...was not going to ruin another relationship due to his inability to cope with his own emotions. "I know." He dragged his eyes up to meet Diana's. "It's okay." Diana looked like she was going to protest so Bruce took a deep breath and reached out and grabbed the rope. "I know you wouldn't intentionally use this on me without asking first."
Diana smiled softly, nodding her head without speaking. She didn't want to accidentally prompt Bruce to say anything else when he was still holding the rope.
Bruce let out a low slow breath through his nose before turning his head to meet Clark's eyes, rope still in hand. "And I know you won't make fun of me." The heat was starting to creep back in to his cheeks, but he carried on. "But it's still embarrassing." He held his free hand up to halt Clark's protests.
"I-don't-do-vulnerable." It sounded like it pained him to say it, and his knuckles were white as he gripped the lasso, but he needed to get this out now that the opportunity had presented itself. "I don't do movie nights. I don't do pillow talk. I don't do quiet mornings over coffee, or Saturday afternoon lunch dates on the dock of the lake. But I like--love--doing those things with you." His face was bright red as he looked over at Diana, and it felt like he was being flayed open, his nerves exposed to the elements. "Both of you."
Neither Clark nor Diana said anything while Bruce still held the lasso, though the sappy smiles on both of their faces spoke for them. "And I don't blush." Bruce added, sounding bewildered now. "I haven't since I was a kid. I don't know why that keeps happening around you two." Okay, now he was rambling. The lasso causing truths to spill out of him. "And I really don't like when you tickle my ears. I'm way too sensitive for that." Oh God. Diana was laughing now as she held a hand out for the rope. "But I really like when you tickle my back. It feels really--" Bruce abruptly dropped the lasso, his mouth snapping shut as the tips of his ears burned red.
Clark chose not to comment on that last revelation, even though he couldn't help the surprised laughter that came out when Bruce practically threw the lasso away from himself. "I love doing those things with you, too." He tentatively wrapped an arm around Bruce's shoulders, relaxing when Bruce leaned into the touch.
"As do I." Diana left the lasso where it had landed, stepping around it to slip her arms around Bruce's middle. She pressed a kiss to his temple. "Thank you for telling us that." She whispered into his hair.
"I'm--not great at expressing myself." Clark's small huff of laughter earned him an elbow to the ribs. "I...appreciated the help." A beat. "But keep that thing away from me around other people."
~~~Bonus Scene Later That Night~~~
"Soooo..."
Bruce's shoulders stiffened at Clark's tone, and he pretended to be busy looking for a shirt so he would have an excuse to not turn around. Not that that seemed to matter, since Clark was now draping himself over Bruce's back and walking him backwards away from the dresser. "What was that you said, earlier?"
"Something about your back?" Diana asked, plucking the shirt from Bruce's hands and tossing it carelessly over her shoulder. He wouldn't be needing that.
"Hngh." Since he was shirtless Clark and Diana got to see the flush start on Bruce's cheeks and creep it's way down his chest.
"Lay down." Clark whispered in his ear, snickering at the squeal Bruce wasn't fast enough to muffle.
"Fuck off." Bruce countered, right before he was unceremoniously flung onto the bed. "What happened to 'no powers in bed'?" He asked, no real heat in his voice as he settled into a more comfortable position on his stomach.
"We weren't in bed yet." God, Clark was such a little shit sometimes.
"Relax, Bruce." Diana ran her hands up his tense back before taking his arms and gently but firmly dragging them up so Bruce could cushion his head in them. "Let us do this for you."
"Please." Clark said enthusiastically, drawing a quiet laugh out of Bruce as he hid his face in his arms.
Someone was leaving a slow trail of kisses across his lower back, starting at the left side and leisurely making their way across. Bruce jolted when they reached the dimple at the base of his spine, muffling a laugh into the blankets when they nipped at the spot, and giving it the same treatment on the other side.
Soon a pair of hands (thicker fingers, shorter nails, it must be Clark) settled on either side of his spine, just below his shoulder blades. Bruce broke out in goosebumps, jolting with a gasp when they gently dragged out to either side, fingers tracing around his ribs as far as they could go until they were stopped by the mattress. He was mortified by the whimper he let out when those fingers quickly skimmed up his ribs, stopping just short of his underarms and instead dragging across his upper back.
The first real laugh escaped when those lips found their way to the backs of his ribs. Diana gently nibbled on the bone and Bruce shouted into the mattress, body heaving as he let loose and didn't bother to fight the laughter he could feel bubbling up inside. It only get worse better when Clark gently scratched his short nails across his lower back, causing Bruce to start squirming in earnest. From there it was hectic. Fingers, lips, nails, teeth; tickling, kissing, licking, teasing any spot they could reach.
When they finally decided Bruce (who hadn't let out a single protest, besides the involuntary squirming) had had enough, they each lay on either side of him. Bruce stayed where he was, giggling into the mattress for another minute. When he finally rolled over his face chest and stomach were all flushed pink, and he had a soft smile on his face that for once he wasn't trying to hide.
Alfred walks in on Clark straddling Bruce's lap, hands buried in Bruce's armpits as Bruce does his best to remain stoic. Normally Alfred would turn on his heel and leave as quietly as he entered when he walks into a scene like this, but Bruce left his gauntlets on top of the coffee machine again, and at this point it had to be a deliberate act because Alfred dared to suggest he call it an early night last night.
"Master Kent." It's gratifying to see Superman startled by his voice; the poor man visibly jumps but remains where he lands on Bruce's lap. "You may have more success with his stomach." Alfred runs a hand down his own stomach, right where it tapers off to his side.
Clark lights up like Christmas has come early, in direct contrast to Bruce's eyes going wide as he begins trying to shove him away in earnest.
"Alfred." Bruce hisses, hands grabbing onto Clark's, lacing their fingers together. "You're fired."
Alfred's eyebrow raises of its own volition. "In that case," both of their heads whip around to stare at them. Clark's face is full of glee. Bruce looks torn between pleading and defiance. "I must insist you go for his neck."
He backs out of the room to the sounds of Bruce's panicked protests, quickly followed by scratchy frantic laughter that he hasn't heard in a long long time.
