Chapter Text
Getting into the gala had been the easy part. In his stolen ill-fitting suit, Kal-El sped past the doormen faster than a human eye can see, a gust of wind all that gave away his presence.
Being surrounded by humans, however, is far more difficult for young Kryptonian. The overwhelming roar of countless conversations, the thick scent of sweat and other human odors in the air, all assaulting his overly sharp senses. With so many people, it's hard for him to remember what he is here for, much less pick out someone he intends to seduce.
It seems his first candidate approaches him instead. An older woman, somewhere in her forties, walks up to him with hooded eyes and barely concealed attraction.
“I can't say I've ever seen you around here before,” she purrs. This close to Kal, he can smell her expensive perfume, one that others may find appealing but only serves to turn his stomach. “Are you here with your parents, dear?”
Kal gives her a tight smile. “I'm here alone.” From the mink fur shawl to her glittering ruby and sapphire jewelry, this woman has everything that Kal could need, but he can't stand to be near her as long as she carries that awful scent around.
“Are you? Poor darling, you must be feeling rather lost.” That much is true, and Kal nods. “What's your name?”
“Kal.”
The woman waits, expecting him to offer a last name that he does not give. She sighs and chalks it up to youthful disrespect.
“Nice to meet you, Kal. I'm Sophie Elliot.” She holds out her hand, and Kal has the social awareness to know to shake it with a grasp that is firm but not overbearing. “Would you like for me to show you around? Maybe get to know some people.”
“I’d appreciate that, Ms. Elliot.”
Sophie laughs and takes one of Kal’s arms, claiming it for herself. “There’s no need to be so formal. Just call me Sophie.” She bats her eyelashes at him flirtatiously.
“Of course, Sophie.” He can tell that Sophiea is delighted to be addressed so casually by a much younger man.
Sophie drags him around, giving tidbits of information about the decadent ballroom that Kal files away in a deep corner of his eidetic memory. “The Waynes have been around as long as Gotham has, and this ballroom has stood for almost the entirety of their dynasty.” She says this with awe in her voice, and it's clear from her tone the high esteem she places on the Wayne family. “Even after the tragedy, at least their heritage has been preserved in this beautiful ballroom.”
That piques Kal’s interest. “Tragedy?” He’ll take this opportunity to learn more about the history of the planet he's inhabiting. Sol would usually be the one to clarify anything he’d like to know, but he had left Sol behind somewhere safe for this mission.
“Oh! You must not be from around here if you haven't heard of what happened.” She gives their surroundings a furtive glance then leans in closer into Kal’s personal space, her perfume so overwhelming that he has to push down a wave of nausea. While Sophie hadn't been useful in the way Kal had intended, she’s friendly and freely offers important information. Kal will have to endure.
“The tragedy of the Wayne family,” she whispers into his ear. “It was almost thirty years ago when the beloved Thomas and Martha Wayne, who had done so much to help Gotham, were murdered in the streets…” her voice dips even lower, barely audible for any human. “...right in front of their son. Oh that poor child, he was only eight at the time, and his whole life was violently torn away from him.”
Sophie leans away and Kal breathes out a sigh of relief as he's freed from her perfume fumes. He could have avoided it by not breathing as that was not something strictly necessary for his functions, but he didn't want to draw attention to himself in that way. The more human he acts, the better.
“Come on, why don't I show you some of the important people gathered around today while we wait for Bruce Wayne to finally grace us with his esteemed presence.” Hopefully he's not so drunk he forgets to attend again, she mutters under her breath, words not intended for Kal’s ears.
Kal is already learning so much about the gala’s host from Sophie. Out of everyone gathered here, if he somehow lands Bruce Wayne, he should be set for life.
“What kind of a man is Bruce Wayne?”
Sophie purses her lips together, struggling to find a tactful way to describe the eccentric billionaire. “Well, for one, he’s obscenely rich. I think he’s well-meaning with all his charitable contributions he makes, but I’m always amazed that an airhead like him is keeping his company afloat. Ah, and to hear the name Bruce Wayne is to hear of all his scandals. Maybe you're too young for me to be telling you all this…”
“I’m not going to die of a heart attack from hearing something salacious,” Kal says with a wry grin.
Sophie laughs. “Of course not. You only look innocent, isn't that right?” The scent of her lust joins in with her heavy perfume. “They say he has a different man or woman hanging off his arms at each gala. Sometimes multiple at once. He has a particular fondness for pretty models who are as vapid as he is. And there have been too many times where he’s been caught fucking one of his paramours in some secluded corner. If he weren't the host, he would have been blacklisted for his behavior.
“It's a wonder that the great Thomas and Martha Wayne had such a shallow son, but…” She lets out a deep sigh. “I can't blame him for how he turned out. Just another tragedy of his life.”
The sob story isn't something Kal cares much about. What he hears from Sophie’s recounting of events is that Bruce Wayne is not only loaded beyond belief, but also an easy man. Kal’s chances of success have never looked higher in snaring a sugar daddy.
It's good to have backup plans as well, of course, so Kal allows Sophie to lead him around to introduce him to various important people. The gesture may appear to be networking, but Kal can see it for what it is: a young, attractive man of questionably legal age being paraded around to see which one of these wealthy older patrons wants to claim him for the night. He plays the role that they expect him to, offering polite introductions paired with the occasional coquettish batting of his long lashes. Lowering their guard so that they don't notice he's profiling them as much as they are observing him.
If Sol were around, this would be much easier, but Kal is finding that he's starting to gain a knack for this type of thing. Of the socialites he’s met, Oliver Queen stands out the most. He’s wealthy and as easy as Bruce Wayne allegedly is. It helps that he’s handsome as well, and as Kal’s x-ray vision shows him, boasting a sculpted and impressively muscular body. If, to his disappointment, the main event does not show and Bruce Wayne remains elusive, Kal can easily find himself propositioning Queen instead.
Just as he's about to insert himself next to Oliver Queen and execute his plan, the music changes, announcing the arrival of Bruce Wayne.
Kal can feel his throat tighten when Bruce Wayne’s sweeping gaze locks onto him. His eyes are such an enticing shade of blue, one that someone can find themselves peering endlessly into. And his face… Chiseled and handsome but also with a layer of prettiness with his long lashes and pouty lips. There's graying strands of hair at his temples, but that only adds to his striking appearance.
The pitch black suit he’s wearing is so sleek, and accentuates his frame wonderfully. Kal can't stop himself from using his powers to peek, and his mouth goes dry at the hard muscles and scarred skin he finds underneath. Those thick thighs corded with powerful muscle is not something Kal would have expected to see from an aloof CEO whose main hobbies seem to be vices and indulgence.
Kal at least has the decency to look away before he can see what Bruce is packing underneath his underwear, but not without noting that Bruce is wearing red boxer briefs that hug his length and leave much to the imagination.
“Pardon me,” he says to the socialites gathered around him, taking his leave to pursue greener pastures. If he’s going to sell himself for a comfortable life free of scrutiny, why shouldn't he go for someone easy on the eyes?
He makes a beeline to Bruce Wayne, who is chatting amicably with a businessman with a stern demeanor. Every once in a while Bruce’s eyes will wander in boredom, and he’ll take a generous sip from his champagne flute. He smiles when he notices the young man approaching him to rescue him from this tedious conversation.
“As fascinating as your report on your quarterly earnings from investing in new microchips is, I'm afraid it's far beyond my scope of understanding. Besides, it's not work hours, and I don't even want to think about work while I'm trying to have fun.” Bruce empties the flute and makes a shooing motion with his hands, dismissing the disgruntled businessman.
“I don't get why they never seem to understand. My job as CEO is to look pretty for the investors,” Bruce laments to himself, then turns towards Kal with a dazzling grin. “And who are you, handsome? I'm guessing you're here for pleasure, not business. I’d be heartbroken to know if one as young as you is already stuck on the corporate ladder.”
Despite the air headedness in Bruce’s demeanor, something about him doesn't quite line up. He’s hiding something, and Kal can't tell what it is. Not that it matters as long as it doesn't interfere with Bruce’s ability to play as a sugar daddy.
“I’m just here for pleasure,” Kal promises. “I've wanted to meet you. I've heard so many things about you, Mr. Wayne.” Albeit things that he had only learned an hour ago.
“Bad things only, I hope,” Bruce says with a playful wink. “And please, call me Bruce. Or Brucie, if you’d like.”
Upon seeing Bruce face to face, Kal is taken by how tall the other man is. Likely somewhere around 6’3” compared to Kal’s average to a touch below average height for his age. He's reasonably tall for a Kryptonian, but it seems Kryptonians are smaller on average compared to humans.
“Why don't you tell me what kind of pleasure you're here for,” Bruce says, voice low as he takes one of Kal’s hands. It seems that Kal might not even have to work particularly hard to seduce Bruce, which works out for him because his confidence in his ability to seduce is shaky at best. He's glad that his appearance is enough to carry him, or maybe Bruce truly is that much of a slut.
“I think you can guess what kind of pleasure I'm after,” Kal says as suggestively as he can manage, hopefully more alluring than clumsy.
Bruce’s eyes light with mirth in response, and he’s clearly checking Kal out from the way his eyes rake over Kal’s body. Kal is only mildly self conscious of how poorly his suit settles over his frame— loose in some parts and too tight in others. At least it doesn’t seem to bother Bruce.
“How old are you, kid?” Bruce asks with a fond huff of exasperation.
“Eigh— No, nineteen.” It’s a rough estimate after converting the solar rotation of Krypton to Earth’s, and adding in the seventeen odd months he had spent drifting in the dead of space. He also doesn't see why it matters when he reached sexual maturity years ago.
“Go home, kid,” Bruce laughs. “I’m not even sure how you got in here in the first place.”
Kal pulls a face, feeling like his chance of victory is slipping away from him. He needs a way to convince Bruce to give him a chance, but he’s never been the particularly charismatic type.
“I’m not a kid,” he says, and it comes out sounding more pouty than he intends. He has seen things that no one his age should be privy to, horrors that can make any grown man break into a cold sweat.
Perhaps Bruce notices the hard determination in Kal’s eyes, because he stops and gives Kal a thoughtful look. One that is far more calculating than should be compatible with his public, carefree persona. He’s hiding something, and that makes Kal all the more determined to make this work.
The look is gone quickly, and Bruce’s mask settles back in place as though it had never disappeared to begin with.
“What’s your name?” Bruce asks with a tilt of his head and a half-smile on his lips, so effortlessly charming, though Kal is certain his good looks plays a role in Bruce’s magnetism.
“Kal.”
“Kal,” Bruce repeats, and Kal decides he quite likes the way he says his name. “How interesting. I can’t say I’ve ever met someone with that name before.”
“My parents were interesting people.” They were more than that— the best that Krypton had to offer, and Kal’s chest still tightens each time he thinks of them.
Bruce arcs an eyebrow. “Were?” And before Kal can clarify, he continues, “Ah, I don’t mean to pry. The topic of dead parents tends to be a mood killer. I would know better than most.” They have that in common.
A server passes by with a tray of champagne, rescuing Kal from the awkward lull in their conversation.
Bruce grabs a flute, then offers one to Kal with a wink. “I won’t tell anyone about you drinking underage if you don’t.”
Not that Kal can get drunk even if he tries. Not as long as he basks under the light of Earth’s yellow sun. He accepts the flute with only a mild look of apprehension. He’s never imbibed alcohol before— never saw a reason to.
Having Bruce continue to engage with him in conversation is the first good reason, and he downs the drink in one gulp. The way it warms his throat is interesting, his Kryptonian nature making the usual unpleasant burn nonexistent for him. Bruce looks pleased, like Kal had passed some sort of test.
“So what is the real reason you approached me today? I don’t think I have yet to ask.” Bruce swirls his glass around absentmindedly, not taking a drink yet.
“I’m sure you can guess.” Kal imagines that Bruce gets propositioned constantly.
“You want me to fuck you,” Bruce says so bluntly that it makes Kal’s ears turn red.
Suddenly tongue-tied, Kal nods his head. His lack of experience is very evident with how flustered he becomes.
“Are you after my money, as well? I won’t be offended if you are.”
Kal isn’t sure how to answer from having his ill intentions so easily exposed. Is he really all that transparent?
“Don't worry, this arrangement works for me as well. And I doubt you'll be capable of bleeding my accounts dry.”
“What do you have to gain from this?”
“Aside from a pretty young thing to fuck?” Kal has never heard anyone describe him as pretty, and it sounds all the more questionable coming from someone as devastatingly beautiful as Bruce Wayne. “Why, just a wonderfully delicious scandal that the media will absolutely eat up.”
“Huh. Is there a reason you’d want to stir up the press?” A foreign notion to Kal, who would like nothing more than to be free of harassment and a low profile to keep himself safe.
Bruce shrugs. “It's entertaining.” A lie, one that only Kal is capable of detecting. “Come with me. I don't think I can get away with slipping away from the gala quite yet, and I can't scandalize the press if no one notices you with me.”
With that, Bruce leads him with a hand on the small of his back, his touch electrifying even through Kal’s clothes. It's all Kal can think of as he sits through Bruce navigating conversation with the elegance of a dancer. Business partners, potential suitors, reporters, and gossip-hungry vultures— he gives them the words they want to hear without saying anything of actual substance, drawing them into his orbit then effortlessly tossing them aside before they can realize he gave them nothing.
Bruce squeezes his hand when he notices Kal zoning out during a particularly boring spiel from someone hoping to gain his backing on their startup.
“Fascinating,” Bruce interrupts, cutting short the man’s speech. “But I really have no talent for this sort of thing. Maybe you should seek an appointment with Lucius Fox whenever he’s available. And I have a friend here who needs some… attending to.”
“Right. Of course.” The man’s face turns as red as Kal’s does. It's funny how much the topic of sex throws Kal off. How unexpected.
“I think it's time we ditched this place,” Bruce whispers into his ear once the man is gone. “I've kept you waiting long enough.”
Kal quickly goes from boredom to a mix of excitement and apprehension, his heart thudding in his chest. This is the time to back out, but every instinct in him screamed to go wherever Bruce wants to lead him.
That place turns out to be an expensive hotel suite with vaulted ceilings, hanging chandeliers, and curiously enough, carved marble gargoyles. They're many stories above the ground, and Kal can see the jagged skyline of Gotham City, pulsing and alive, like a beating heart.
“It’s quite a sight, isn't it?”
Kal turns to see Bruce, dressed in a loosely fastened silk robe, his hair damp from a quick shower. Kal had declined on showering together, a decision that he's starting to regret. It's difficult for him to take his eyes away from the parts of Bruce that are exposed, hard planes of toned muscle adorned with pink and white scars.
“It is.” The kind of view that only birds are privy to. Birds, billionaires, and Kal himself. “Where did you get all those scars from?”
A brief uptick in Bruce’s heartbeat, then it calms back down to its steady 30 BPM.
“A car crash here and there, and my fondness for extreme sports has done a toll on my body, I fear.” A well-rehearsed reply, and one that doesn't take into account the suspiciously bullethole-shaped scars on his body.
“They’re hot,” Kal blurts out, the words coming out of his mouth faster than his brain can stop him, and he blushes lightly. Back on Krypton, everyone in the Labor Guild had their own scars, and while the reason for Bruce’s scars is different, Kal is still drawn to them.
Kal is no longer capable of scarring.
“I’m glad you think so. Not everyone appreciates how they look,” Bruce chuckles. Kal watches Bruce from the reflection he casts on the glass pane, approaching him from behind to wrap his arms around Kal’s waist. He smells nice in a way that Kal usually doesn’t find humans to be, something comforting about it that reminds him of gemstorms and scattered sunstone dust.
He’s lonely, Kal realizes. It’s been many years since he’s been stranded on this planet, the last of his kind with only Sol as company, and maybe that’s the real reason why he hatched this far-fetched plot of his in the first place. Seeking any sort of companionship, however superficial. Sol had warned him about the dangers of solitude, and Kal is beginning to understand why.
“Not having second thoughts, are you?” Bruce whispers against his skin, leaning down with his lips grazing his neck, butterfly-light touches.
Kal steels his gaze. “Of course not.” He does want this, even if it’s for the wrong reason. He turns around to kiss Bruce, and while he’s not exactly experienced this, at least this is not his first time.
The difference in experience makes itself known when Bruce deepens the kiss, the slide of his tongue sending a jolt down Kal’s spine.
Kal is suddenly worried about how his heightened senses will fare when it comes to sex. Those worries are quickly dashed out of his mind by the sinful curl of Bruce’s tongue, kissing him like he’s trying to devour him. His breath hitches when Bruce cups his face and turns him around, pressing him against the cold glass with his warm body.
Winding his legs around Bruce’s waist seemed to be the right next step, and Kal shudders at how easily Bruce picks him up by the back of his thighs. Though he can easily overpower the human, Bruce doesn’t know that, and the illusion of being weaker is strangely pleasant, like he can rely on someone other than himself for once.
He holds onto Bruce with his arms looped around his neck as he’s brought to the bed, landing on soft, silk sheets with a small bounce.
“I can buy you something nicer to wear,” Bruce whispers as he strips away Kal’s clothes layer by layer.
“Mm. As long as I get to see you again.” Kal scoots his hips to help Bruce with shucking off his pants.
“That comes with the territory of having a sugar daddy, doesn't it?” Bruce teases, ducking his head between Kal’s legs as he tugs on the waistband of his boxers. He's starting to get wet from the soft huffs of Bruce’s breath tickling this inside of his thighs.
“Am I boring you?” Bruce asks with a playful lilt to his voice. “Or are you nervous? You don't seem all that ex— oh.”
There's a look of shock on Bruce's face when he pulls off Kal’s boxers and is met with Kal’s hairless mound and leaking slit. Kal struggles to understand his confusion until he realizes…
Human males don't have vulvas. Or, at least, not any he’s observed so far.
He should have noticed sooner, and Kal panics as he wonders if this of all things is how he blows his cover as an alien.
“Is it that unusual?” He’s starting to feel self conscious from the way Bruce is staring at his cunt.
Bruce blinks away his surprise and the easy-going smile returns to his face. “Not unusual. Just not expected. Are you okay with me touching you there?”
“Why wouldn't I be?” Kal parts his legs further to prove his point, his cunt flushed and visibly aroused, swollen clit peeking out from its hood. The insides of his thighs are wet.
Bruce’s pupils darken as he brings his head in closer, the hunger from earlier returning. Even the soft puffs of air from his breathing has Kal squirming, needing something to ease the throbbing between his legs. Then Bruce seals his lips on his cunt, and Kal lets out a startled gasp, his legs shaking from the light suction on his clit.
“Oh, Rao…” Kal whines. The flick of Bruce’s tongue is so much better than anything he can do with his own fingers. A few more strangled sounds slip out of him, a jumbled mess that sounds like a mix of English and Kryptonian. His thighs squeeze together, trapping Bruce’s head between them, and it takes all his brainpower to not accidentally crush his skull.
He can feel the way Bruce’s lips curve into an arrogant smirk against his pussy, and taste the way Bruce’s lust deepens from each ruined moan he wrings out of him. Then Bruce sucks on his clit and Kal sees stars, sparks in his vision as his back arches into a taut bow. He’s pretty sure he came, but Bruce doesn’t stop licking him, pushing him past the point of oversensitivity into something that is as pleasurable as it is painful.
Just as Kal thinks he’s about to break, or maybe break the bed with his strength, Bruce shows him mercy and unlatches himself from his sopping cunt.
“You’re sensitive,” Bruce murmurs, pressing a kiss on Kal’s thigh. “I barely touched you, and you started moaning so sweetly for me.”
Of course Kal is sensitive, but he can’t tell Bruce why. Instead he shoots Bruce a heated glare, his cheeks warm and pink.
“Don’t tease me,” he says sullenly.
“I would never,” Bruce replies in a playful manner that makes Kal think he’s lying. “It’s flattering how easily I can make you feel good. Unless you’re like that with everyone?”
“I’m not. And you thought I was bored earlier.” Kal doesn’t say that there hasn’t been anyone else before Bruce. He can immediately tell that those words only served to feed Bruce’s already overinflated ego from the way Bruce’s smile widens.
“Good. Because I don’t think I’ve had enough of you yet.”
Bruce dips his face between Kal’s legs again, this time his tongue pushing inside of Kal's slit. Kal throws his head back in a drawn out moan, a hand reaching out and grabbing Bruce’s hair, tugging on the inky black strands. Bruce’s tongue writhes and curls against something inside of him that has Kal crying out in broken Kryptonian, his lips no longer capable of forming proper words.
Bruce grips his thighs and encourages Kal to rest his legs on his shoulders, and Kal once again has to fight himself from squeezing too hard or from yanking out Bruce’s hair. His body quivers with the effort, and the shaking only intensifies when Bruce’s fingers find his clit, rubbing against it in sensual circles.
The dual stimulation pushes Kal into another orgasm, this time wetter and more intense than the first, slick gushing out of him and drenching Bruce’s chin.
“W-wait, pull out,” Kal whines, pushing Bruce’s head away from his cunt. “Too much—”
Fortunately, Bruce pulls away before Kal can accidentally break his spine.
“Fuck, you’re strong.” Bruce’s voice sounds almost as rough as Kal’s does. “I thought you were going to suffocate me with your thighs. What have they been feeding you?”
“Nothing,” Kal says between ragged huffs, pleasure making him too honest. His need to eat disappeared when he set foot on this planet.
“Well, whatever it is, maybe I should have you tell my personal trainer.”
When Bruce kisses him again, Kal can taste his own slick on his lips. It’s strange, but not entirely unpleasant, to know what he tastes like.
“Are you going to fuck me now?” Kal asks with Bruce settling between his legs. He can’t take his eyes away from Bruce’s hard cock, so thick and long enough that it may even make him ache afterwards. It’s his first time seeing one up close, and the sight makes his throat dry.
“Why don’t you lay back for me,” Bruce says instead of answering.
Still, Kal does as he’s told, cunt fluttering at the thought of taking Bruce inside of him. He feels worn out, but that doesn’t stop him from wanting more. He has the strength and stamina for it.
To his disappointment, Bruce does not stick his cock inside of him. Instead, he curls his fingers around his shaft, looking at Kal through hooded eyes as he strokes himself. Kal’s throat goes dry from the sight of Bruce fucking his own fist on top of him, and he bites the inside of his cheek imagining what it’d feel like to have his dick plowing his pussy instead. Bruce’s quiet grunts as he pleasures himself echoes in Kal’s ears, making him even wetter.
By the time Bruce is shooting thick ropes of cum on Kal’s stomach with a low moan, Kal is hard again, his insides churning with lust.
“You could have done that inside me,” Kal points out when Bruce collapses on top of him.
Bruce laughs quietly against his ear. “Didn’t I get you off twice already?”
“And then you turned me on again by doing that,” Kal points out.
“Hmm. I should take care of that, shouldn’t I?”
Bruce’s hand slips between Kal’s thighs, fingers seeking out his clit, and those sparks return to Kal’s vision. He rocks against Bruce’s hand, hastily seeking his release, sensitive from his two orgasms but still greedy for more. He’s leaking onto Bruce’s fingers, an endless faucet of slick ripping out of his pussy.
Kal thinks he actually blacks out when he cums for the third time, and he’s uncharacteristically tired when he comes to, a type of fatigue that he hadn’t known he was capable of anymore. In his dreamy haze, he grabs Bruce and burrows in close to him. Humans are warmer than Kryptonians, and the warmth soothes an ache that he didn’t notice until now.
Bruce seizes up momentarily, clearly not used to cuddling with his hookups, but he relaxes and allows Kal to curl up against him, and even runs a hand through Kal’s hair, threading it through the lengthy strands.
A deep sleep claims Kal for the first time since he’s landed on this planet, listening to Bruce’s heartbeat to drown out the rest of the noisy world.
He’s awake when Bruce leaves him in the dead of night without saying a word.