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It was quiet at the Manor, the french doors on the balony of it's owner's quarters open enough to let the breeze flow in, inviting for any flying, super-powered boyfriends to enter as they pleased. Soft jazz music played as a figure stood in front of a vanity in preparation for the night to come, the room grand and luxurious but never grander than the person who made any space shift it's gravity around him.
It was nearing sunset when Bruce heard the doors to his bedroom click shut. He had just finshed his makeup, an intense and smokey look that made him look equal parts ethereal and intimidating. raven hair with silver streaks slicked back and sleek. Just as he was putting in dangling gold earrings, he saw Clark's reflection join him in the mirror.
"Wow," was all Clark could say, appreciating the double view of Bruce's front in the mirror and the way his form fitting black dress hugged his curves from behind, particularly the way it looked almost painted on his ass. The longer he looked the more he appreciated every detail, the dress a soft velvet with a slit on either side that showed off shapely legs from the thighs down and straps that crosscrossed tightly along the middle of his back holding a gold accented black corset in place, the front of it squeezing his large and plush pecks together to create the illusion of cleavage.
Bruce, smirked, finishing up and spraying himself with his favorite perfume, one he knew Clark also loved that had notes of amber and vanilla. There was a golden statement necklace around his neck that drew attention to defined collarbones.
"Are you trying to kill me?" Clark gasped, fiddling with the tie around the neck of his suit, a gift from Bruce, also velvet and a deep blue that brought out his eyes. It was tailored to show off his broad shoulders and strong arms.
Perfect for grabbing onto, Bruce thought with a smirk. "You look handsome," he told him, eyes trailing over his dapper ensemble.
Clark smiled. "My boyfriend got it for me. I think he has good taste."
"He certainly does," Bruce agreed, in reference to more than just the suit. "Help me, baby?" he asked Clark, turning to lean on the edge of the vanity, posed so his exposed, smooth legs beckoned Clark closer. His feet were bare and there were black, red bottom stilettos with straps set beside him on the ground.
Clark swallowed audibly, leaning down on one knee, never breaking eye-contact with Bruce.
One at a time, he reached for a shoe, taking Bruce’s foot into his hand gently and slipping it on and fastening the strap, free hand cupping his ankle, sliding up the back of his calf and dissappearing under the dress.
"Behave," Bruce murmured, though his eyes grew hooded and dark. "I put a lot of effort into this look and I'd like to be presentable at the gala."
Clark sighed, lowering his head and letting it fall against Bruce’s knee, breathing in deeply, lashes fluttering at the smell of him.
"What did I do to deserve this?" He lamented.
Bruce chuckled at him then, soft and teasing.
"You'll have all the time in the world to make a mess of me later. Just get through an hour of schmoozing with me and I'm all yours."
Clark was on his feet in an instant, crowding Bruce with hands firmly planted beside his on the vanity, their noses almost brushing.
"You are all mine?" He whispered, breath ghosting Bruce’s lips in a shadow of a kiss.
Bruce smiled, cupping his face and pressing their foreheads together, eyes softened with fragility.
"I'm also Gotham’s, unfortunately."
It almost sounded like an apology.
Clark leaned in closer and kissed his cheek in acceptance, wrapping an arm around his waist to hold him close.
"I know."
~
Hushed whispers and muffled moaning filled the night air. It was damp in the garden maze, tall shrubbery and shadows shielding two figures from view, a water fountain at the center only just drowning out the distant sounds of laughter and clinking of wine glasses in the crowded venue.
"F-fuck- we're gonna get caught," Bruce hissed, a hand tangled desperately in mussed and dark curls.
Clark was sucking bruising kisses along his neck, slowly inching lower. He had a hand up Bruce’s dress, working between his legs and stroking the length of his hardened cock.
He pulled back, throwing him mischievous grin. "Only if you keep moaning like that."
Bruce’s eyes narrowed.
"You're evil."
"Tell that to your dick- mmh!"
Bruce glared, lifting his leg between Clark's and pressing his thigh against his lover's own erection, cutting his retort off and making him groan brokenly. A strong hand held his waist tighter- hard enough to bruise.
"You couldn't fucking wait until after dessert?"
That earned him a warm laugh.
"I don't know what you mean, Mr. Wayne. I've got my dessert right here."
He couldn't help but roll his eyes, fighting his own laugh. "That was terrible- eep!"
His face flushed deep red, the embarrassing squeak he let out startling himself as Clark abruptly let go of his cock and lifted him, Bruce wrapping his legs around his waist. He buried his face in Clark’s shoulder, swatting his back weakly when he felt him shake with more laughter.
"D-Did you just eep?"
"Shut up," Bruce grumbled.
More kisses were pressed into his collarbone, making every inch of skin touched by Clark’s lips tingle.
"I could just eat you up," Clark whispered, unapologetic hands squeezing his ass.
"Not here," Bruce warned, though there was an audible need in his voice.
Clark nodded, leaning back to look at him. Aside from his disheveled hair he was perfectly composed, only a breathtaking smile and adoring eyes giving away how enamored he was with the man in his arms.
"You're for my eyes only, angel."
"God, stop," Bruce complained, flaming heat warming him from the inside out and cheeks flushed the prettiest pink only someone like Clark with his enhanced sight could appreciate under the cover of darkness.
Clark only held him tighter. "You gonna let a guy like me take you home, sugar?" He teased.
His response was another swat to the shoulder. "I am going to sue you for emotional damages if you keep-"
"Making you blush? But you're so gosh darned pretty when your cheeks get all rosy like."
Clark smirked the instant he felt Bruce unconsciously grind against him and then freeze, wide-eyed and caught.
"C'mon, darlin'. You like being wooed, don't you? You like it when I tell you how pretty you are."
Fingers scratched the hair at his nape and Bruce audibly gulped before releasing a shattered breath, ice blue eyes alight with desire.
"Take me home, Clark."
~
Even with Clark’s strength reigned in they couldn't help but make a mess.
And a whole lot of noise.
Persistent craving obvious in the way that Clark nearly ripped the doors off their hinges when they landed on the balcony, tangled in a kiss that was all fierce wet heat and tongues dancing, Bruce’s hands anchored in Clark's hair. They haphazardly made their way into the room, never breaking away from each other and Bruce, who had thought they'd reach the bed at some point, made a soft sound of surprise when they bumped into the vanity with such force that it shook and several bottles toppled over, clinking against the wooden surface.
Finally he broke away from Clark's lips, panting as his lover simply kissed his way down his neck much in the way he'd done in the gardens.
"C-Clark-"
"Mm?"
"Bed?"
Clark pulled back to look at him, eyes piercing and starved. Strong fingers traced the lines of his chest.
"Right here, Bruce."
Bruce sucked in a breath, arching into his touch.
"Help me out of the dress?"
"No."
At his quedtioning stare, Clark gave him an appreciative onceover, sliding his hands down to Bruce’s waist, leaning closer so their noses touched.
"Keep it on," he whispered.
"Okay," Bruce nodded, hooded eyes watching Clark and waiting for his next move.
"Turn around."
Bruce obeyed, planting his hands on the vanity and spreading his legs, back arched and ass pushing back into Clark's clothed erection. He felt a responding grind into the cleft of his ass, hearing the soft moan behind him.
"So pretty for me, B."
A burning kiss pressed into the back of his shoulder, making him shiver as he locked eyes with Clark through the mirror.
"I want you to watch yourself get fucked."
Oh.
It wasn't something Bruce had ever done or that they'd done together before. Surprising. As Clark had by that point in their relationship fucked him in various places, against multiple surfaces and in a myriad of positions. Only tonight had they finally met the opportunity for mirror sex. Bruce whimpered at the thought, nodding desperately.
"Yes- Yes just- fuck!" He cried out, head falling back, Clark’s fingers having reached under his dress to stroke his cock again.
Bruce watched his own reflection through hazy eyes, taking in the red flush on his cheeks and the growing sheen of sweat already dampening his forehead, hair mussed and waving at the ends. His chest heaved from Clark's treatment and he caught the way his lover's expression softened, resting his chin on Bruce’s shoulder with one arm wrapped around his middle, never breaking the pace of his steady strokes.
"Do you see what I see now? Do you see how stunning you are when you come undone for me?" He murmured, nuzzling Bruce’s warm cheek with his own, perfectly composed while Bruce melted under his touch.
"C-Claaaark," he whined, reaching an arm back to grab a fistful of Clark's hair. He was so worked up and knew he couldn't last.
"I'm gonna eat your ass before I fuck your delicious hole, Darlin'. You said you're all mine now and I'm gonna hold you to that."
Bruce’s cock twitched in his hand, needy moans morphing into ragged and rapid little gasps.
He was close.
Clark’s hand sped up, sending him tumbling down into torturous pleasure.
"Baby- Baby, I'm- fuck- fuckfuck fuck- uh... uh... I- god- UNGH-"
Bruce spilled into his hand, legs trembling and with only Clark to hold him up, his "O" face on full display to himself within the mirror glass.
Is this what Clark saw everytime he drove Bruce mad with pleasure? Objectively, Bruce knew he was considered conventionally attractive. Sexually, he was far from inexperienced. But he'd never seen his own features lost in the throws of pleasure. For the first time, Clark’s obsession with making him climax as many times as possible made perfect sense. As if reading his mind, Clark's reflection smirked back at him.
"Beautiful as always."
He felt that tight grip slow but not stop right away, extending his pleasure on a razor thin line of oversensitivity before coming to a gradual stop. Even when he could see Clark’s kisses land the contact made his blood burn under his skin.
He needed more.
He wanted to be ruined.
"Please... god, please."
Cold air met the bare skin of his plush ass as Clark flipped the back of the dress out of the way, smooth hands rubbing and squeezing before a loud smack had Bruce yelping and gripping the table. He heard Clark’s knees hit the floor and felt his breath ghosting his hole.
"Claaark," he whimpered, still watching his own desperate face taunting him, biting his lip in anticipation. A wet lick made him gasp and push his ass in Clark’s face. Clark wasted no time in diving in, burying his face between his cheeks and swirling his tongue around the rim, holding Bruce steady even as his legs twitched. Bruce felt that tongue probing his entrance and couldn't keep from trying to fuck it into himself. As soon as it breached him he let out a moan that broke into a cracked sob.
"Clark- Fuck! Ah... Ah.... fuuuuck,"
Bruce's image blurred in his vision, eyes crossing with pleasure.
Clark mercilessly plunged his tongue into him, fucking it in and out of his ass with brutal efficiency, the inhumanly strong and long muscle loosing his quivering hole.
"Mmm...mmm...mmm...." Clark moaned, savoring Bruce’s clenching around his tongue and shaking in his hands. Above him, Bruce made long keening noises that made the baser part of Clark’s brain absolutely feral with possessive desire.
Bruce gasped and hiccuped in rapid succession with a second climax drawing nearer every second. For the first time, he also knew what he looked like helpless, brows drawn up, lashes wet and eyes glistening full of sinful pleasure, face sweaty and cheeks dusted red from heat, hair falling over his face each time he was jostled, arms flexed to hold himself upright and steady, lips parted with every sound Clark tore from him.
And the dress.
God... the dress.
Clark made him feel every bit as loved as he was desired. Every bit as worthy as he was beautiful. The gift of their relationship allowing Bruce to see himself through Clark's eyes, to see what Clark saw in him. Bruce had always been a prince in his own right. But with Clark...
Bruce felt chosen.
As if loving Bruce was the easiest thing in the world and all Bruce had to do was let it happen.
"Ungh... Fuck...," he choked on a moan, teeth clacking as words flew out before the thought even struck him, as if the way Clark loved was contagious and Bruce no longer had to think about the consequences.
"I love you so much," he rasped, brain turning to mush inside his skull, a dreamy smile on his lips, crystal eyes locked on the mirror holding the image of his euphoric expression. "I love you. ILoveYouILoveYouILoveyou- mmm! Clark!"
Clark’s tongue vibrated inside him, shocking his orgasm out of him so abruptly he lost eye contact with himself, vision flashing white before everything went black. Air rushed into his lungs only to be expelled moments later as a wail of blissful agony. He collapsed onto the vanity on his front, taking shaky breaths and too lost in the afterglow to feel Clark seperate from him, zooming to the night table by his bed and back in a blue gust of air, lube in hand.
"Ready?"
Bruce hummed his assent, vaguely hearing a tsk of disapproval.
"Use your words, B."
Clark heard his exasperated sigh, shaking his head fondly at him.
"Fuck me, Clark."
"Good boy."
Slickened fingers teased his hole, two digits sinking in easily and thrusting in and out, just barely brushing his sweet spot. Bruce felt his toes attempt to curl within the confines of his heels just as Clark’s fingers scissored him open, stretching him wider.
"Clark... I need you now," he whispered, pushing back into his hand. "Please..."
Clark shushed him gently, free hand rubbing soothing circles on the small of his back.
"I've got you, sweetheart."
Those fingers left him, the empty feeling lasting only a few agonizing seconds while Clark slicked his own cock before finally letting the head kiss his hole.
Clark's stare met his in the mirror the instant he thrusted his hips, bottoming out in a powerful stroke.
"Ah! Mmm.... fuck-" he wheezed, breath punched out of him and desperate fingers clutching the edges of the vanity so hard that white bloomed across the tops of his knuckles. Strong hands gripped his waist tightly and wasted no time pulling him on and off Clark's cock at a punishing pace.
"This- hah- this what you wanted, baby?" Clark taunted, reflection sporting a vicious smile, gentleness gone but desire ever present. Truth be told, he was just as riled up as Bruce was.
Bruce took in every twitch, every microexpression, every russle of fabric as he was fucked within an inch of his life, both of them fully clothed. It was almost better than being naked.
Almost
And Clark...
Clark looked so handsome like that, curls tousled and jaw set, deep blue eyes fixed on where their intimacies connected, teeth biting his lips to barely contain rough groans of pleasure and muscles wrapped in the expensive blue suit Bruce had custom tailored just for him.
"Ah... ah... Clark... mooore- more, baby- please- please-" he pleaded.
Seeing everything was so different from simply hearing himself. Had he always been this pretty when he begged? Was this why Clark went so mad for it everytime? His internal questions were answered when Clark’s eyes snapped up and saw his face, growling and pounding into him harder, faster, hands tightening around his waist such that Bruce knew he would have dark finger-shaped bruises in the morning. His walls quivered around Clark’s dick, making the other man moan loudly in pleasure, his own expression a bit anguished.
"F-Fuck, Bruce- so lovely... mmmng-"
The vanity was rocking and creaking dangerously, slamming hard against the wall with every thrust of his hips. Bruce knew the exact moment Clark decided to use x-ray vision, his aim eerily precise in an instant, cock bullying his prostate relentlessly.
Bruce squealed, too high on pleasure to be embarrassed at the increasing pitch of his own continuous moans.
Clark unexpectedly reached down, wrapping a hand around his neck and hauling him up so that Bruce’s back was pressed against his front, never breaking his pace. He mashed their cheeks together, making eye contact with him through the mirror.
"Mine."
Bruce nodded frantically, face flushed red and chest shining with sweat. He reached up to grip Clark’s forearm, whimpering at the new angle as he was impaled on his lover's cock over and over again.
"Y-Yooours. Yours! Fuck- FUCK ME! YES- Ah- ah- ah- ah- gonna come- I- I can't- Clark- ah- Claaark- oh- oh- oh- GOD- unnnngh-"
Clark smirked, watching Bruce’s eyes cross and roll back into his head.
"Do it. Come."
Bruce couldn't refuse if he tried, sobbing into his third orgasm, seizing in Clark's hold, legs quaking before he shot his load under his dress and his entire body promptly going limp, only Clark holding him up.
Clark always loved this part. The part where Bruce smiled deliriously and let Clark use him longer, past the point of overstimulation and into something more free.
"Mmm... so good. Want- Want you to come, too," Bruce sighed blissfully, body moving much akin to a ragdoll in Clark's arms. "Come inside me, Clark. Want to feel you. Give it to me."
How could Clark resist such a lovely request?
Bruce nearly felt like he was out of his body as he watched Clark take what he wanted from him, hips stuttering and jerking with his impending release, losing rhythm as now only his pleasure mattered, Bruce more than sated. He heard a loud moan and felt the warm flood of seed fill him seemingly without end.
Clark always came so much.
More than that, Clark’s fucked out expression was joined by Bruce’s. Bruce had never had any idea what he looked like when a partner pumped him full after a good fucking. He was going to have to install a mirror on the ceiling over his bed if this was how glorious they looked together.
"I fucking love you," Bruce whispered, breathless, eyes softened and hand stroking Clark’s arm reverently. "You're so good to me."
His response was a joyous laugh and a hand turning his head for a deep kiss.
Clark pulled back with a final peck on his lips.
"I love you. You're everything to me. And so, sooo pretty. Look at you," he gushed, beaming at him.
"I looked at myself plenty," Bruce told him wryly, patting his hip in a silent order to pull out, which Clark obliged carefully. Bruce was free to turn around, letting Clark lift him to sit on the top of the vanity and loop his arms around Clark's neck, Clark's own hands sliding down around his lower back and fingertips resting on the crest of his ass.
He watched Bruce intently as he scanned every inch of Clark's face with utmost tenderness.
"Thank you for this," he said after a long moment of catching his breath.
Clark arched a brow.
"You're thanking me, your boyfriend, for sex?"
That earned him a weak wack on the chest.
"No, Kansas. I mean-," Bruce sighed, avoiding his eyes and glaring at the floor.
Clark wasn't having any of it, tucking a finger under Bruce’s chin and gently tilting his head up until he was looking at him again.
"What are you thanking me for then, B?" He prompted, an earnest smile on his lips
He watched dark lashes flutter, rosy pink dusting pale cheeks.
"I- for showing me- You know, what I look like when we- and how beautiful it made me feel. Not as an object but as someone- as someone yours. For helping me see what you see," Bruce shrugged, smile just on the right side of wistful. "I never knew."
Clark’s eyes widened, jaw dropping and mouth hanging open, dumbstruck.
"You've... never actually seen your face."
"Uh uh," Bruce shook his head, "I mean Brucie has some sex tapes but it's never focused on my face. People don't watch that. It was more objectifying and never... it wasn't about how I felt."
"Bruce," Clark breathed, cupping his face with both hands, thumbs stroking his cheeks with so much care it brought tears to Bruce’s eyes, more of the shell he'd worn his entire life cracking and crumbling. "I adore you. I feel so lucky to be with you like this. Of course I want you to feel good. Not just in bed but about yourself."
"I know," Bruce smiled, wrapping his hands around Clark's wrists, just for the contact. "And I'm the best version of myself when Im with you."
Clark let out a wet laugh, his own eyes moist and teary. "Just when I think I can't fall anymore in love with you, I find myself in deeper than before."
Bruce leaned up, lips just barely brushing his with a whispered, "Me, too."
Clark closed the remaining distance, kissing him thoroughly enough that he could have breathed life into Bruce if the other man would allow it. Little did he know, he already did...
Every day.
The Dark Knight smiled brighter. His shoulders relaxed. He laughed with more ease. He viewed the world with more hope than he had in many years. All because of the man in front of him.
If Clark indeed was the sun, then Bruce would proudly be his moon, reflecting his light as his mirror for as long as he saw fit to shine on him.
Bruce prayed that meant forever.
Clark had no doubt.
"Shower and bed," Clark said suddenly, pulling away from the kiss.
"Carry me," Bruce sighed, nuzzling his chest.
He heard a laugh above him.
"Okay, princess."
"I could get used to that one."
"You'd better!"
Yeah.
This...
This was more than alright, Bruce thought, drowsiness taking over as he was carried to the bathroom.
I should wear a dress more often.
"You have got to wear dresses more often," Clark’s voice said above him.
Bruce huffed a laugh at the nigh telepathic bond between them.
"Noted amd agreed," he paused, looking up at him and poking a finger into his firm chest, "but only if I get to buy you more suits."
It was Clark's turn to laugh, a bright and sunny sound not befitting of the late night hour but welcome nonetheless.
"Deal."
"Deal."
FIN.