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To Clark Kent, Batman aka Brucie Wayne aka Bruce Wayne, was the most frustrating man in the world. He was fiercely independent and was always prickly. He was just plain mean sometimes and was stubborn to a fault. He was also the kindest, brightest, smartest, man in the world. He was also unbearably hot, which quickly became an issue when you had to work with all his iterations every single day.
~~~~~
1- Mechanics (Hands)
To Clark’s knowledge, Batman cared for exactly three things. His family, his city, and the watchtower. In that order. The Watchtower was Bruce’s baby, if there was any issue beyond the occasional flickering light, the procedure was to call Bruce directly, no matter the hour, and wait for him to fix it because if even a single thing was out of place when he did his weekly checks, there would be hell to pay.
This is why Clark was stuck here, in the monitor room, while Batman, sans gloves, was fiddling with some wires that were sticking out of a wall panel. Clark had no clue what they did, but there were far more important matters to deal with at the moment than to figure out.
Said issue was that this was the first time he had seen Bruce’s hands and he was having a crisis.
As a reporter and a journalist, Clark saw his fair share of wires. He also saw the amount of work it took to keep things neat and not a tangled mess of half-frayed tech. The camera crew were always fumbling away with their wires and buttons, and still somehow they always ended up looking like a rat’s nest, no matter how much they fought with them.
But Bruce was gently wrangling them like they were an extension of himself. His hands weren’t what people would traditionally call “gentle” either. They were thick with muscle and there were more calluses than clear skin. Small scars were covered Bruce’s hands. Paper cut scars, razor wire scars, knife scars, burn marks, and puncture wounds. Clark knew that if he were to reach out, to touch them, to bring them to rest against his face, they would be rough. Those hands were responsible for putting 13 people into Gotham’s ICU not even six hours ago.
Yet somehow, with a gentleness that shouldn’t even be possible with hands that large or rough, Bruce was shifting, letting the wires slip through his fingers like water through a sieve or the wind through leaves. A delicate dance, between the wire’s unruly chaos and the Bat’s stern preciseness. Eventually, the Bat won, as Clark knew he would, and the monitors sprung back to life. That night had ended without a word spoken between them. It wasn’t the last time Clark would see something in his friend that would cause his heart to stutter… and his cock to perk up with interest.
~~~~~
2- Lollipops (Mouth)
The bane of Clark’s existence should probably have been something like Kryptonite or Lex Luthor or even the Sun imploding, but no. The bane of Clark’s existence was something he saw every day, or really someone who he saw every day.
Bruce Wayne’s Mouth.
It was the only part of his friend's face, or really body, that Clark ever saw. It was also the single most distracting slip of skin he had ever encountered. The first time he had noticed, really noticed his mouth, wasn’t even while Bruce was Batman. Clark had been covering some rich politician's birthday for Kat when there was a larger ruckus than usual at the door. Of course, Bruce Wayne and his everlasting entourage of models and fellow rich kids walked in.
Bruce had made his usual rounds before he came over to Clark. Honestly, Clark would take Batman and his grunts over Bruice and his whine any day.
“Ah! Clart, was it?”
“Clark, Brucie”
“Yes, that's right, Clark. How have you been? I think the last time I saw you, Lexi ended up in the fountain.” That blank stare, the smile that never reached his eyes, the endless glasses of champagne that were actually carbonated waters dyed slightly yellow. Clark hated Bruce like this, it stripped his friend of everything that made him Himself.
Before he could get an answer out, a little kid came running through the crowd to tug on Bruce’s hand. He was a stick of a thing, with big soulful blue eyes and black hair. More importantly, now that the small child had Bruce’s attention, he raised his other hand which was clutching a lollipop, and waved it in Bruce’s general direction.
Bruce crouched his entire six foot two body to more evenly match the child’s four foot even. “Oh, for me?” The little kid nodded, and Bruce held his hand open. The kid plopped the sucker into Bruce’s hand “Mmm blue raspberry, my favorite!” Bruce stayed crouched and tried to get the kid to talk, to ask who his parents were.
“TIM! There you are. I am so sorry Mr.Wayne, Tim get over here.” A tall blond woman, almost as skinny as her kid, quickly walked over towards them.
“It’s okay Janet, Timmy here was just giving me a present.” Bruce stood up again to his full height, ruffling the kid, Tim’s, hair. Tim rushed back to his mom, hiding behind her legs, giving a last wave before they both walked off.
“Anyway Clark, how have you been?” Bruce was unwrapping the sucker. Bruce was popping the sucker in his mouth. Bruce was doing something absolutely sinful with his tongue and Clark had to get out of there before everyone and their mom saw him standing with Brucie, him and his erection standing tall and proud.
“I’ve been okay, don’t you have Swedish models to be bothering?” Clark’s eyes tracked Bruce’s concealer-covered hands as he dragged the lollipop out of his mouth.
“But I want to talk to you Clark, what don’t you want to talk to me?” Much, much more tongue than what was needed was stuck out to give the lollipop a broad lick. Bruce’s tongue was stained blue.
Oddly enough there wasn’t some emergency halfway around the world that saved him from Bruce being an ass, it was another little boy, slightly older, with black hair and blue eyes. It wasn’t Dick, apparently, Bruce had gone and adopted another boy, it was Jason. Even just seeing his boy approach had Bruce standing up straighter and wiping that sultry pout off his lips.
The conversation with Clark was entirely forgotten, Bruce disappeared not even twenty minutes later with Jason on his hip, his head buried into Bruce’s neck. Clark flew off twenty-five minutes later, thankful for the clipboard Kat had made him bring along, if nothing else it was great at hiding inconvenient erections.
~~~~~
3- Athletics (Body)
Brucie Wayne and Batman have absolutely nothing in common other than being masks for the same man. It just happened that said man was built like a brick shithouse. The watchtower was built by Bruce who was an absolute tank, Bruce also seemed determined to convert everyone who ever stepped foot into the watchtower into brick shithouses as well.
Not even Superman was exempt from this attempt. That was why he was in outer space, on the watchtower for mandated “team bonding and training”. He put that in quotes because those who did show up usually went about their own thing for an hour or so and then promptly left.
Bruce was usually too busy correcting the other's form or showing how to improve certain skills to actually take part in much training himself. However, today it was just the main council: Diana, Arthur, J’onn, Barry, Hal, Bruce, and himself. Bruce apparently felt this bunch wasn’t likely to kill themselves trying to do a flying kick which is how Clark ended up here, on the floor, desperately fighting the urge to look at Bruce’s ass.
Seeing as no one was in desperate need of correcting, Bruce had stripped out of his suit and cowl, and into what he considered workout clothes. Clark considered the cropped, fitted turtleneck and leggings, a personal health hazard. Bruce was doing some absurd thing on the pommel horse, using his hands to hold the set of himself up in a sitting position and slowly rotating around, going into a handstand, and returning to the first position again.
Clark was learning how to do a handstand without cheating gravity, which put him on the mats directly behind Bruce. It put him so when Bruce returned to the first position and did his little swings and twirls, Bruce’s ass was lined up right in front of his face.
Truly, Clark had never realized how many muscles a normal human could have. Bruce was anything but normal. His back and ass looked like they had been sculpted by Rao himself. Considering one of his teammates here had actually been sculpted by the gods, Clark had the unique opportunity of being able to know what that looked like.
Bruce’s ass really did look like the softest thing on planet Earth. Possibly in the whole galaxy. Tensed as they were, Clark could see the power that those muscles held. They were perfectly round and jiggled every time Bruce came down slightly too hard on the pommel horse.
Despite being upside down, Clark could feel blood rushing up to his other head.
Bruce started to turn so that he would be facing Clark, and Clark suddenly realized that if his face was ass level, Bruce’s face was going to be crotch level.
Clark had three options. 1, he stayed still and Bruce got an eyeful of a fully erect dick. 2, Clark fell backward and landed on his ass so everyone got an eyeful of a fully erect dick. 3, Clark fell forward and fell on his face, probably becoming the laughing stock for five minutes and his dignity being mostly intact.
Really it was no choice at all.
“You okay there Clark?” Bruce’s voice, his actual voice, not the Bat’s Growl or Brucie’s Whine. Bruce’s low and gravelly rumble asked him from above.
Clark grumbled from his place on the floor and started to float slightly. Just enough that he wasn’t dragging across the floor as he floated to the door.
Bruce pinched his nose and sighed “You’re going to have to learn how to do a handstand eventually Kal, but that's enough for now. Alright everyone start packing it up.”
Clark didn’t stick around to do that, he had a very important appointment with Dr.Cold-Water.
~~~~~
4- Securing Alliances (Mind)
Everybody knew that Batman was a genius the same way everybody knew Brucie Wayne was an idiot. Clark himself believed it for his entire career until he had met the man behind both masks and realized that Bruce Wayne was a level above genius, whatever that would be called.
If Clark tried to explain what Bruce did with that mind of his, he would be there all day. Nothing that he could think of came to the brilliance of Bruce Wayne in his element.
The last time he had gotten to see it, had been at a gala of some sort, covering for Kat again. He had been there for a couple hours when Lex Luthor, of all people, came in and started spouting some nonsense. (Lex really should do some research, the lizard people were happy to remain farmers in the South Atlantic islands, far far away from the World’s Governments) That was beside the point, the point was that soon after Lex started talking Bruce sidled up to him in a way that could only be described as utterly plastered.
Lex, used to his old boarding school roommate, quickly made room for Bruce at his table. It had apparently been a while since they had last spoken, and Lex wanted to reconnect about the good old days of spending millions on clubs and long luscious hair.
Soon enough it was Luthor who was absolutely plastered. He also somehow ended up in the water fountain, soaking wet and laughing. The next morning all the tabloids could talk about was how Luthor publicly announced he “Owed Brucie one” and tried to stick his hand down the front of Bruce’s pants.
The less Clark thought about it the better. Bruce was incredibly hot when he manipulated supervillains. Clark still occasionally woke up from dreams, soaking wet, thinking about what it would have looked like if Lex had pantsed his friend.
~~~~~
5- The little things (all the things that matter)
In the end, it wasn’t Bruce’s hands, mouth, body, or mind that made Clark fall madly in love with him. It was all the little things that people didn’t see.
It was getting to the conference hall on the watchtower with everything already set up and a dozen boxes of donuts in the middle. It was Bruce acting extra prickly until Clark saw that he wasn’t hiding an injury, he was hiding a tiny kitten named Alfred under his cape. It was specialized sun rooms and swim rooms and even a forest room for when days on the Watchtower turned into weeks at the watchtower and people got homesick. It was Bruce teaching Diana how to preen Hawkgirl’s wings because he apparently knew more about Thangarian anatomy than literally anyone else on the planet.
It was everyone knowing where to look for their sidekicks after a blowout, knowing they were safe. It was seeing the Gotham rogues crumble and practically turn themselves in when Bruce sighed in that special way he only did on especially hard nights. It was how the Teen Titans didn’t just run out the door after practice led by Bruce, they stayed and pulled out their homework and asked for help knowing they would get it by the end.
The thing that finally Broke Superman, was Bruce putting his name next to Clark’s on a two-week-long mission no one else had time for, because Bruce knew Clark hated solo missions.
It was waking up after a rough five days of negotiation to a perfect cup of coffee and a pre-packed breakfast from Alfred.
Clark couldn’t live like this anymore.
After sedately finishing his breakfast and making sure all of the controls on the ship were set to autopilot, Clark spun around and marched toward the communal area on the tiny ship. He walked right up to Bruce, who was stood up by the bookshelves, clearing some dust off them.
“Yes, Kal?” Bruce’s stupidly handsome face with his stupid handsome eyebrow quirked up. Clark looked at his hands, slowly cupped the back of Bruce’s head, and all but dragged him forward to slot their lips together.
Clark stayed like that for a second, before he felt a tongue probing at his lips. Then he was off to the races. He opened his mouth to suck in Bruce’s tongue. Licked at his mouth and bit at his lower lips. He kept going until Bruce made a little noise, reminding Clark that he needed to breathe.
“Well, that took longer than I thought it would.” Bruce was heaving, his lips quirked into a smirk. “Really Clark I’ve been trying to get you to do that for years”
The awful, wonderful, hunk of a bastard. Clark couldn’t help but growl a bit. Years he says, like Clark hadn’t been hiding inconvenient erections and taking cold showers and avoiding awkward conversations with his parents about why he was still single, for years.
Clark slid his hands down from Bruce’s neck down to his waist. He picked up all six foot two of Bruce without breaking a sweat and threw him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He could feel Bruce laughing and poking him in the ribs, but Clark was locked onto the bedroom door. As gently as he could, Clark turned the handle and swung the door open, mentally promising to fix and dent later, but now all he wanted to do was get Brue naked on his bed.
“You are an absolute bastard Bruce. Years! Do you know how hard it’s been, trying to hide what you do to me from the rest of the league? For Years Bruce!” Getting Bruce’s clothes off was easy. He had already slipped out of the Bat armor earlier and was just in a tank top and sweats.
Bruce landed with a thump as his back hit the bed. He sent Clark a little smirk, then lifted both his legs at the same time, they formed a V around his torso. His. Feet. Were. Behind. His. Head. Clark was going crazy, he had to be, there was no way a man this perfect existed. Clark grabbed Bruce’s though and squeezed. Not hard enough to really hurt, but enough that there would be a handprint bruise on the backside of Bruce's thigh tomorrow, right underneath his ass. Speaking of, Clark grabbed a hold of the other thigh as well and lowered his face in between those two perfect mounds of flesh.
Clark licked a broad stripe right over Bruce’s hole. The man’s whole body shivered as he let out a moan. Clark kept going, going from broad licks to small kitten licks around the outside and rim of the hole. Then he pushed in and started to twist and lick at the inside of Bruce’s walls. His ass was tight, and hot and exactly how Clark had imagined but better.
Bruce was shivering and trying to turn left and right by the time Clark was satisfied with the wetness of the hole. Bruce could have broken free at any moment, Clark was sure, but he hadn’t. Instead, Bruce had laid back and let Clark eat out that deliciously tight ass, Clark thought that deserved a reward.
“You are so good to me Bruce. Rao. Bruce, do you know how good you taste? Do you know how good it felt to have you clenching on my tongue?” Clark couldn’t believe what was coming out of his mouth. Bruce opened his eyes for a second, going completely still, but his pupils were blown wide, and he moaned even harder after a bit.
Clark let go of Bruce’s thighs and grabbed his hips instead. He lifted Bruce up and flipped him over onto his hands and knees. Bruce naturally rested his head against the mattress and arched his back. His ass looked just as good as it always did, better for the fact that it was bare to the world, and more importantly bare to Clark. He cupped both cheeks with his hands. Kneaded them for a minute or so, somehow Bruce had knots in his ass and was practically a pile of sentient goo by the time Clark was done working them out.
Clark bent down slightly, opened his mouth, and chomped right in the middle of Bruce’s left cheek. Bruce yelped and tried to push himself up, but Clark had his hand pressed into Bruce's back, keeping him in that beautiful arch. Clark looked at the spot and started to suck around the bite mark. Tongue brushed across it, making sure there was a distinct bite mark and a ring of bruised flesh around it.
“Clark, Clark please I need you in me. Please.” Bruce practically moaned out. Clark stood up straight and shucked his pants. He grabbed Bruce’s hips again and dragged him to the edge of the bed.
“Behind you. On the dresser, lotion” Sure enough there it was, some lotion sitting on top of the dresser. Waiting for this moment. Clark may have been projecting some, but when he finally slid the first finger into Bruce, he almost came right then and there.
Clark knew Bruce was tight, had felt him against his tongue, but feeling Bruce bare down against his hand and clench in tune with Clrak moving in and out, was something else. Soon enough he had three fingers shoved into Bruce’s prostate. He knew that’s what it was because every time Clarked brushed up against that bundle of nerves, Bruce lit up with pleas and moans, there was a puddle of slick precum gathered under bean Bruce’s cock. He was fully hard, and every second looked painful with how hard he was.
“Please. Clark. Please. Inside me now. Clark. Clark!”
Clark chose to show some mercy. Yanking out his fingers and slicking up his cock. “You’re so sweet for me Bruce. Begging so nicely. You’re so tight and slick, you are absolutely perfect, is there anything you can’t do?”
Just as he heard Bruce take a breath in to respond, Clark pushed fully in. Whatever Bruce had been gearing up to say was replaced by a long high-pitched whine. Clark slid in and out slowly for a second, before giving in and starting to pound.
The entire bed was moving with how rough he was being. Bruce took it like a champ, he clenched and moaned and cried a little. When Clark changed his angle slightly and pushed directly into Bruce’s prostate, Bruce lost it.
Despite still having his hand on Bruce's upper back, Bruce bucked up into his next shove down and came with a shout. His insides locked up around Clark and after a couple more downward thrusts, Clark emptied his balls into Bruce. He could feel his cum settling somewhere deep in Bruce, and now he knew that he would get to do this again and again.
They were both lying cuddled up into each other on the dirty sheets. Bruce was covered in hickeys and love bites and hand-shaped bruises, but Clark thought he looked like the most beautiful man in the world. In the whole galaxy even.
“Luv you, Clark”
Clark pressed a kiss up against Bruce’s temple. They would figure out how to clean all this up in a couple hours. “Love you too, Bruce.”