Depressed emo bat boy man being awkward and soft is best bat boy man 🦇❤️
Bruce meets Clark for the first time when the reporter comes to Gotham for a piece in the daily planet. When he sees the intense blue of Clark’s eyes and his blindingly charming smile he almost has an anxiety attack from how very attractive his is. Bruce makes something of an idiot of himself, stumbling over a greeting when he takes in the size of muscles that build the man in front of him. In fact he stumbles through the interview in its entirety, the blush on his face reaching down to his chest and shoulders with how much he’s trying not to stare at Clark’s absolutely obscene throat. By the end he’s nearly worn himself out, which is probably why he idiotically asks Clark out to dinner with him. Which ended up being the best decision he’s made, what with how Clark blushed before agreeing.
After months of dating Clark, Bruce meets Superman and immediately knows it’s Clark. (honestly what person throws on glasses and hopes no one with recognize them when they’re only the strongest being on earth???) He’s waiting patiently for Clark, suit in hand, when he returns from his shower. He just stares at Clark who’s gone pale as paper, eyes on the giant S, before Bruce reaches behind him to throw his cowl at him. Clark stares at it for minutes gaping like a fish and then his mother hen takes over and it’s all Bruce can do to try to get his himbo boyfriend off of him telling him he’s fine and he’s not hurt. Because of course Clark wouldn’t care so much that he’s Batman, but that he might be hurt.
Their first time is messy and Bruce feels awkward, like he doesn’t know what he should be doing with his limbs. Also because Clark is built like a greek god. Clark chuckles and is sweet, red faced and all. When he pushes inside, Bruce gets so tense he worries he’s hurt him when a long, low, whimper fills his ears. When Clark looks down at Bruce his eyes are wet and his eyebrows are drawn up. He’s as vulnerable as he’s ever seen the young caped crusader. Shaking hands reach up to Clark’s face, stopping before they make contact, and then just a wrecked whisper of, “please, I-” and he’s gone.
Bruce is surprised at how vocal he is and his face feels on fire because he’s not able to stop it. His voice betrays him over and over and it’s so worth it. “Harder” he begs. And it’s worth the growl that demand tears from Clark’s throat, worth the new brutal pace he’s being inflicted with. He doesn’t even know what he’s begging for anymore but Clark’s hands are like iron chains where they hold him, light purple lighting up his skin in the shape of hands and kisses. Clark is pushing words into his hair, sweet nothings and promises Bruce thinks he’ll never be able to keep but god be damned if he doesn’t try.
He won’t admit it but the way that Clark’s body almost envelopes his is what does him in. The sheer power behind those hands is all it takes. Knees pinned up by his ears he cries as he’s worked through his climax, tears burning tracks down the side of his face. He’s absolutely wrecked, and so is Clark when he comes. Clark let’s out a guttural sound, straight from his chest and it vibrates against Bruce’s limp body below. His face blooms redder if possible at the feeling of being filled. Clark is groaning, whining even as he wraps arms around the smaller man and pulling him close, shaking and shivering. It takes longer than it should for Bruce to realize Clark is still coming, and the thought alone makes him whimper against his strong chest. He can feel it. It’s hot and his stomach feels full to burst.
“I’m so sorry Bruce, I should have warned you about that… it’s-”
“—embarrassing and I get if you don’t want me to- wait what?”
“I said it’s fine. Now shut it Kansas.”
“You think it’s hot, don’t you..”
