Chapter Text
Chapter One:
"Bruce, darling, you look positively ravishing tonight." Lex Luthor’s smile didn’t reach his eyes as he handed Bruce a crystal flute of champagne.
"Metropolis’ finest vintage. Don’t insult me by refusing."
Bruce accepted the glass with a polite nod. "Wouldn’t dream of it, Lex."
He took a measured sip, the bubbles sharp against his tongue. Around them, the Metropolis elite swirled in a blur of silk and jewels beneath the sterile glare of LexCorp Tower’s penthouse chandeliers. Bruce noted the subtle shift in Lex’s posture, a tightening of shoulders, a predatory stillness beneath the tailored suit. He cataloged exits, potential threats, the weight of his concealed batarangs. Standard procedure.
A wave of unnatural heat washed over Bruce halfway through his second flute. His vision blurred at the edges, the chatter of the crowd distorting into a dull roar. Alarms screamed internally, his metabolism should have neutralized any toxin instantly. This was different. New. His knees buckled slightly. Lex’s hand closed like a vise around his elbow.
"Feeling unwell, Bruce?" Lex murmured, steering him firmly away from the crowd.
"Let’s find somewhere quieter. Somewhere… private."
The grip was iron, leaving no room for refusal. Bruce’s muscles tensed, ready to fight, but a leaden weakness flooded his limbs, betraying him. Lex’s smile widened, triumphant.
"That’s it. Easy now."
The private elevator ascended silently, its mirrored walls reflecting Bruce’s slumped form against Lex’s unnervingly steady frame. Bruce fought to focus, his thoughts sluggish, fragmented. He recognized the chemical signature now, a neural inhibitor LexCorp had buried in R&D reports, designed to bypass even enhanced metabolisms. Lex watched his reflection, fingers tracing the pulse point in Bruce’s wrist.
"Obsession is such a fascinating thing," Lex breathed, the sterile air thick with his satisfaction. "You and that alien, Kal-El… always out of reach. But tonight?" His thumb pressed hard against Bruce’s radial artery.
"Tonight, you’re mine." The elevator doors slid open onto a dimly lit penthouse suite smelling faintly of ozone and expensive leather.
"D-don’t..."
Lex propelled him forward into the cavernous space, kicking the door shut with a soft click that echoed like a gunshot. Bruce stumbled, his coordination shredded. He tried to pivot, to drive an elbow back, but Lex caught his wrist with bruising force, twisting it high behind his back. Pain lanced through his shoulder.
"Struggling is pointless," Lex hissed, his breath hot against Bruce’s ear. He shoved Bruce forward onto a low, plush divan. Bruce hit the cushions face-first, the velvet rough against his cheek. He tried to push up, but Lex’s knee slammed into his spine, pinning him down. Fingers tangled in his hair, wrenching his head back.
"Look at you," Lex murmured, a chilling reverence in his voice. "The great Bruce Wayne, helpless. Perfect."
Bruce gritted his teeth, summoning every shred of willpower. He bucked violently, managing to dislodge Lex’s knee for a split second. He rolled sideways, crashing onto the cold marble floor.
Adrenaline surged, a desperate counterpoint to the drug’s suffocating haze. He scrambled backward, hand fumbling for the concealed compartment in his cufflink—a micro-dose adrenaline injector. Lex lunged, a predator closing in. Bruce’s fingers brushed the tiny trigger just as Lex’s fist connected with his jaw.
Stars exploded behind his eyes. The injector skittered away into darkness. Lex hauled him up by his lapels, slamming him against a wall-mounted abstract sculpture that rattled ominously.
"Enough games," Lex snarled, his composure cracking into raw hunger. He ripped Bruce’s tailored jacket open, buttons scattering like hail.
"You’re mine." Bruce gasped, the cold air hitting his chest, the reality crashing down with terrifying clarity. Lex’s hand slid down his abdomen, possessive and cruel.
"No..." Bruce choked out, the word thick with dread and impotent fury. Lex leaned in, his lips brushing Bruce’s ear.
"Yes."
Gathering his will and strength, Bruce weakly snarls, he manages to catch Luthor of guard by weakly shoving him, stumbling of the wall he stagger while panting to the door.
Lex laughs softly, a sound like ice cracking underfoot.
"Where do you think you're going?"
He catches Bruce's wrist with terrifying ease, twisting it until bone grinds against bone. Bruce bites back a cry, the sound swallowed by the cavernous room. Lex suddenly lifts him up bridal style, Bruce once again weakly shoving and twisting. The heat from the drug makes him whine as he slumps his face into Luthor’s neck helplessly panting.
Lex carries him toward the bedroom, kicking open a heavy oak door. Inside, moonlight spills through floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating a vast bed draped in black silk. Bruce is dropped onto the cold sheets like discarded luggage. Lex pins him flat with a knee on his sternum, knocking the wind from his lungs.
"No more escapes," Lex murmurs, unbuttoning his own shirt with deliberate slowness. Bruce tries to roll away, but Lex grabs his hair, forcing his head back.
"Look at me." Bruce refuses, squeezing his eyes shut. Lex's thumb digs into his jawbone.
"Look. At. Me." The command is velvet-wrapped steel.
Bruce opens his eyes, meeting Lex's triumphant gaze. The drug makes the room swim, but the hatred in Bruce's eyes is crystalline.
Lex leans down, his lips hovering inches from Bruce's.
"You've haunted me for years," he breathes, tracing Bruce's lower lip with his thumb. Bruce flinches violently. "Always just out of reach. The untouchable Prince of Gotham." Lex's hand slides lower, fingers curling possessively around Bruce's throat.
Bruce bucks, a desperate animal trapped. Lex presses harder, cutting off his air.
"Shh," Lex whispers, watching Bruce's face darken. "Submit."
Bruce claws at Lex's forearm, nails drawing blood, but the grip only tightens. Black spots dance in his vision. Lex releases him abruptly. Bruce gasps, coughing violently, his body shuddering. Lex smiles.
“Good."
Lex's hands move to Bruce's belt buckle. The metallic rasp echoes loudly in the silent room. Bruce kicks out blindly, connecting with Lex's thigh. Lex grunts but doesn't relent. He yanks Bruce's trousers down roughly. Bruce tries to curl in on himself, a final instinctive defense.
Lex grabs his hips, flipping him onto his stomach effortlessly. Bruce's cheek presses into the cold silk. He feels Lex settle heavily on top of him, pinning his legs.
One hand fists in Bruce's hair again, pulling his head back sharply. The other hand slides down Bruce's spine. Bruce tenses, every muscle locking. Lex leans close, his breath hot on Bruce's ear.
"Finally," Lex whispers, triumph thick in his voice. "Mine. God, look at you, helpless, needy...completely naked and at my mercy, the great Prince of Gotham. Spread on my silk sheets."
Bruce whines when he hears the snap of a camera.
Lex shifts his weight, freeing one hand. He holds the phone above them, angling it downward. The flash momentarily blinds Bruce. Lex captures the image: Bruce pinned beneath him, face pressed into the sheets, body exposed.
"Proof," Lex murmurs, lowering the phone. "A little insurance. Something to remind you of tonight... and ensure your silence."
He tosses the phone aside onto a nightstand. Bruce feels a wave of utter violation deeper than the physical assault. His mind races, clawing for escape plans, but the drug renders them useless, fragmented. Lex's fingers dig into his hips, spreading his legs wider. Bruce feels Lex's tongue against his hole and his hips instinctively bucks. Sure, he's had sex before, but none of his partners ate him out.
Bruce arches violently, a choked gasp escaping him as Lex’s tongue traces a deliberate, wet path against his entrance. The sensation is shockingly intimate, unwanted heat coiling deep in his gut despite the terror. Lex chuckles against his skin, the vibration sending a fresh wave of shame through Bruce.
"So responsive," Lex murmurs, his breath hot. "Even drugged and fighting it... your body betrays you."
He presses closer, tongue probing deeper, relentless.
Bruce bites down on the silk sheet, muffling a groan that’s part agony, part horrifying involuntary pleasure. His fingers claw uselessly at the bedding. Lex’s hands grip his hips tighter, holding him open, immobile. The rhythmic pressure builds, a cruel parody of intimacy, each stroke designed to dismantle his control.
Bruce squeezes his eyes shut, focusing on the cold silk against his cheek, the distant hum of Metropolis traffic far below, anything but the violation unfolding.
Lex pulls back abruptly. Bruce hears the unmistakable sound of a zipper, then the slick slide of lubricant. Cold dread washes over him, colder than the air on his skin. Lex positions himself, his weight pressing Bruce deeper into the mattress. Bruce tenses, every muscle screaming in preparation.
"Relax," Lex commands, voice thick with anticipation. "It’ll be easier if you just... accept it."
Bruce feels the blunt, insistent pressure against him. He braces, breaths coming in ragged gasps. With a brutal, deliberate thrust, Lex pushes inside. Pain explodes—sharp, tearing, utterly violating. Bruce cries out, the sound raw and guttural, swallowed by the vast room. Lex holds still for a moment, buried deep, savoring the tight heat.
"God," Lex breathes, a shudder running through him.
"Even better than I imagined." He begins to move, slow at first, then building into a punishing rhythm. He feels Lex reach over him, grabbing something - his phone - the same one with the pictures - and hears the bleep of the cameras video recorder.
"Ngh...n-no...D-dont....s...stop..."
Each thrust drives Bruce further into the silk, the friction agonizing. Lex’s hand fists in his hair again, wrenching his head back to expose his throat.
"Look at the camera, Bruce," Lex pants against his ear, his hips snapping forward hard. "Let it see your face."
Bruce squeezes his eyes shut, refusing. Lex’s grip tightens painfully.
"Look!" he snarls.
Bruce forces his eyes open, staring blankly at the phone’s glowing lens. The humiliation is suffocating. Lex’s thrusts grow faster, more erratic, driven by a frenzy Bruce can feel vibrating through his entire body.
Bruce bites down hard on his lip, tasting blood, focusing on that metallic tang to anchor himself against the overwhelming sensations—the pain, the unwanted friction, the horrifying intimacy. Lex groans, low and triumphant, his rhythm faltering as he nears climax. His fingers dig, bruising into Bruce’s hip.
"Mine," he gasps, driving deep one final time. Bruce feels the hot spill inside him, a final act of possession. Lex collapses forward, his weight crushing Bruce into the mattress, his breath hot and ragged against Bruce’s neck.
Silence descends, broken only by Lex’s heavy breathing, Bruce's silent pants and the faint hum of the city. Lex stays buried inside him for a long moment. As if savoring the feeling.
Weakly, Bruce's mind travels to Clark. He wished Clark was the one inside him. His best friend. The only person he trusts besides Alfred and his kids. Superman.
Bruce weakly groans. Clark has super hearing! Fuck! Why didn't he think of that? His pride at being found like this - Batman being found like this - by his best friend was humiliating.
He knew Clark memorized his heartbeat. It was such a boy scout thing to do. Memorize his best friends heartbeat so he can just check in in him when Bruce is being stubborn.. But still he weakly whispered through a sob, still feeling the wet kisses Lex is currently putting in his neck.
"Superman." he whispers.
Lex freezes against Bruce's neck. The wet kisses stop. A low, dangerous chuckle vibrates against Bruce's skin.
"Calling for your alien babysitter?"
Lex murmurs, his voice dripping with amused contempt. He shifts his weight, pulling out slowly, deliberately, making Bruce gasp at the sudden emptiness and renewed sting.
His world spins as Lex forces him on his back, spread his legs once again, ignoring the weak sin and protest of "No..." before Luthor thrust in again, pushing his release back into Bruce.
"I'm not done with you, Brucie."
"Superman...please..."
Lex slammed Bruce's legs wider apart, thrusting deeper with a groan that vibrated through Bruce's ribs.
"He can't hear you," Lex hissed, his breath hot and ragged against Bruce's ear.
"Soundproofing. Lead-lined walls. Designed specifically to keep out curious Kryptonians." His hips snapped forward again, jarring Bruce's spine against the mattress.
"You think I'd risk him interrupting this?" Bruce's whispered plea dissolved into a choked sob as Lex renewed his rhythm, each brutal stroke dragging a raw gasp from Bruce's throat.
The phone's camera light blinked steadily from the nightstand, a cold, unblinking eye witnessing his degradation.
Bruce squeezed his eyes shut, focusing solely on Clark's face—the earnest blue eyes, the gentle curve of his smile. He clung to that image like a lifeline, drowning out the wet slap of skin against skin, the grunts escaping Lex's lips. He remembered how once, J'onn told him that his and Clark’s bond was strong enough to form a mental bind, deliriously he thought, Clark, he screamed silently into the void behind his eyelids, hear me. He concentrated every shred of his will, picturing Clark soaring above Metropolis, head tilted, straining to catch a familiar rhythm beneath the city's roar.
Lex chuckled darkly, sensing Bruce's inward retreat. He leaned down, biting sharply at Bruce's shoulder. "Still hoping" he taunted, his pace becoming erratic, frantic.
"He's useless. Always was."
Bruce felt Lex tense above him, heard the sharp intake of breath signaling his climax. A fresh wave of hot violation spilled inside him. Lex collapsed heavily, his sweat-slick chest pressing Bruce deeper into the silk. Silence fell, thick and suffocating, broken only by Lex's satisfied sighs and Bruce's own ragged breathing. The camera light blinked off.
Then—a sound. Not Lex's breathing, not Bruce's shuddering gasps. A low, resonant thrum, felt more than heard, vibrating through the floor, the bed frame, the very air.
Like a tuning fork struck deep within the earth. Lex froze, his head snapping up. Bruce’s eyes flew open.
Outside the vast windows, silhouetted against the moonlit skyline, a familiar crimson cape billowed. Superman hovered, his expression unreadable from this distance, but his posture was rigid, fists clenched at his sides.
Gaze straight at them. Lex scrambled backward off Bruce, his face draining of color.
"Impossible," he breathed, pure terror replacing triumph. Bruce closed his eyes again. Curling into himself.