picture you
★ summary: the daily planet office in gotham desperately needs your help covering the infamous maroni case, your meta-human boyfriend can't stand the idea of you being there, but little do you know you have a bat over your shoulder, watching your every move
★ pairing: clark kent x reader x voyeur!batman, superbat (kinda)
★ warnings: 18+ mdni, smut, fem reader, stalking, voyeurism, possessive clark!, pathetic bruce wayne!, p in v, oral, public sex, public masturbation, breeding, cum play, size kink
★ word count: 6.1k
★ notes: this was purely self indulgent. i make no apologies <3 & do not fret! i am working on a part two ofc
“I just can’t believe you said yes!” Clark’s voice rang through the still apartment. The argument was still ongoing, as every time you opened your mouth, it felt like you were throwing gasoline on the fire. Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you continued shoving clothes into your suitcase, taking your anger out on the innocent dress pants.
“I can’t believe you’re still making this a big deal, Clark. It's a month at most. I’ll be set up in a hotel with security-”
“It’s Gotham, Y/n.” The vein on his neck was fully protruded now.
“Wow, really? I had no idea.” You snarked back, purposely moving around him to grab the files off your desk.
The moment you accepted Perry’s proposition to travel to the Daily Planet branch in Gotham to help them cover their case load with the recent Maroni scandal, Clark had been in an uproar. You knew he meant it with love; he all but came barreling into Perry’s office, saying it was a bad idea. After an awkward conversation about Clark doubting your work and a domestic dispute in front of your boss, it was settled.
“This is serious.” His voice rose again before taking a deep breath. “I just really don’t like the idea of you being in the most dangerous city in the world.”
“Good thing you’re Superman, huh? I just gotta send out the Clark signal and you’ll be there.”
Your suitcase was dramatically zipped closed now, lying on your shared bed. You knew he was worried about you, and you empathized with that. It’s not like you’ve never been there before. You interned there when you were fresh out of college, and you knew how to protect yourself. Despite Clark knowing all of these things, you were certain he would put this entire city on lockdown to prevent you from leaving.
“I don’t like how you’re diminishing my feelings.” He said, his tone shifting to one of defeat rather than the frustration it was laced with earlier.
His admission made your shoulders fall. Leaning up, you placed your hand on his cheekbone. His stubble tickles your palm.
“I don’t like how your worry is turning into anger. You have to trust me.” His face nuzzled into your hand, his eyes softening down at you.
He pulled you close, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I do trust you.”
“Then let me go and prove to you that I’ll be fine. You can come visit, and I know I’ll probably see you every night.”
Despite the emotions running through him, he couldn’t stop the smile from appearing on his face.
“I’m going to see you every morning and night. Maybe even on my lunch breaks, too.”
“See?” You laughed, pressing small kisses to his cheeks. “Worried for nothing.”
“You’re my whole world. Of course I’m gonna be worried.” He said, pulling you into a tight hug, resting his chin on your head.
“It really is gonna be fine. Besides, if you can’t make it there, Batman's got it.” You chuckled, your body tensing at the mention of the masked vigilante.
“Not helping.” He groaned, trying to pull away from your hold.
-
The transition to Gotham wasn't as hard as Clark anticipated it would be. He helped you settle into your hotel room, but not before properly vetting every single employee there and checking all of your possible escape routes. You were surprised he didn’t find a way to put a security camera in your room, but you didn’t wanna give him any ideas.
Working at the Gotham office was much different from your Metropolis hub, but you had befriended a few of the fellow reporters and editors there. Most of your days consisted of waking up to Clark’s morning calls, getting coffee from the hotel, taking the Daily Planet car to the office, working until your eyes hurt, ordering takeout, and ending with Clark’s goodnight calls. It was all mundane until one Friday night, you ended up working late. Later than you should have been in this part of town. Your driver was already off for the night, meaning you’d have to walk the few blocks back to the hotel. In Metropolis, this wouldn’t be an issue, but Gotham was a lawless land.
Clutching your bag to your side, you kept your head down, doing your best to blend in with the shadows as you raced down the sidewalks. Halfway through your walk, or should you say jog, a loud group of boys walked past, making your heart feel like it was going to burst out of your chest. Your hand reached into your back pocket, clutching the pepper spray Clark triple checked you had packed with you. Every loud noise had you flinching. You didn’t feel real fear until the hair on the back of your neck stood up. It felt like someone was watching you. Without slowing down, you did your best to stay vigilant, neck turning around every few seconds, only to be met with pitch black alleyways or a piece of trash blowing by in the wind.
You swore you could feel eyes on you. Like someone was looming just feet behind you. The feeling had bile rising in your throat. By the time you made it to the hotel lobby, you barreled through the glass doors frantically. The staff side-eyed your abrupt entrance as you rushed to the elevators, showing them your room key to go to your floor. Fight or flight had kicked in, and you were trembling from the adrenaline rush. Nearly dropping your bag as you scrambled to open your door.
Once inside, you triple locked it and, with shaky hands, dialed Clark’s number, propping the phone up with your elbow as you threw your bag down.
“Hi, baby,” Clark said, his voice slightly out of breath. There was a lot of wind in the background and what sounded like the rustling of fabric.
“Hi.” You breathed out, your voice matching your trembling frame. A loud crash happened through the speaker, making you pull the phone away.
“Oh. Sorry about that. There’s this Imp that the Justice Gang swore they could handle, then four more appeared, and it’s been a- Hey!- mess.” He spoke, and you could imagine him fighting off some floating alien with one hand and the other one clutching his phone to speak to you.
“Sorry to interrupt, I just-,” You sighed, pacing around the room, “I worked late tonight and walked back, and before you say anything, yes, I had my pepper spray, but I think someone was following me? Maybe I’m being ridiculous and freaking myself out, but I don’t know.”
The line on the other side of the phone was silent for a moment. Too silent for your liking. Nothing but the sound of wind whipping through the speaker.
“Clark?” You asked, stepping to the window to peer out of it. The view from your room wasn’t amazing, but it gave you a view of a rooftop across the street. You had to squint, but you swore you saw an outline of a figure standing on top, staring directly at you. All you could make out were broad shoulders before you blinked, and they faded with the wind.
“Let me in.” Clark’s voice finally rang through the phone, the jumpscare causing you to shriek. You wasted no time in throwing the phone down on the bed and rushing to let him inside the door. He was inside, arms around yours, before you could even greet him.
“No one’s lingering around the hotel from what I could see. No suspicious bodies on your route either.” He assured me, leaning down to kiss the top of your head. His suit was slightly charred, sweat clinging to his skin.
“You didn’t have to come all the way here.” You lied, relishing in the feeling of his arms that you’ve missed so dearly. “What if they need you?”
“You’re my girl. Of course I had to.” He smiled, grabbing your chin in your hand. “They’ll be fine. I was really just doing them a favor. You know, Guy gets lazy after a while. Besides, with you not home, I was just kinda bored.”
You laughed at his admission, shaking your head at your boyfriend, who, in his spare time decides to fight deadly interdimensional creatures.
“I swore I saw someone on the rooftop across the street. As soon as I blinked, they were gone.”
At this, he kept your hand in his, striding across the room to peer at the rooftop. He was obviously using his enhanced vision; his brows furrowed.
“Maybe it was just someone who lives there? I don’t see anything.” He frowned. He was scared that he unconsciously planted this paranoia in your head with his constant worrying.
“Probably.” You sighed, letting your shoulders finally relax a little. The tension slowly rolls off your shoulders.
“I’m sorry if I scared you, honey.” He said, pulling you into his chest again. Wrapping your arms around him tightly, he picked you up. You were weightless against him, your hand curling up the back of his head.
“M’ just tired. Missed you.” Your words were muffled by his dirty suit fabric. You couldn’t even find it in yourself to care.
“Let’s close these curtains, get you a shower, and get you to bed.” He said, one arm holding you around him and the other closing the curtains. He let you cling to him as he floated around, getting the shower started for you.
“Only if you join me.” A yawn escaped your mouth, knowing you were too tired to do anything besides gaze longingly at the man as he helped you wash your hair.
“Oh no. Really? I don’t know if I can.” He said, his voice monotone, but his smile was contagious.
“Ha Ha.” You said dryly as he helped rid you of your work clothes. Stepping out of his suit, you helped him fold it against the counter.
“You’re gonna have to leave before dawn, can’t let the entire floor see Superman leave. It’ll be in the Gotham Gazette by lunch.”
“Way to make me feel like a dirty mistress.” He laughed, leading you into the shower.
You both showered with an intimacy that could only be known by the two of you. He washed your hair, and you helped him wipe the stubborn ash off his chest, with only minimal gawking. He held you that night until you fell asleep, sneaking out in the morning just as promised. When you eventually woke up to your alarm, there was a note and an already-made coffee on the nightstand.
After that night, Clark promised to visit more, flying in town to have dinner with you, and would leave before his shift in the morning. It made the days pass by quicker. This day started as any other working at the Gotham field office. You were in the middle of talking to one of the editors about their notes before a silence fell over the room. The kind of silence that you could cut through with a knife. Kylie, the editor, looked behind you, her eyes wide. Unable to beat the curiosity of what could have changed the atmosphere of the room so quickly, you turned around.
As soon as you did, you regretted it. There stood Bruce Wayne himself in all of his agonized glory. His darkened eyes locked onto yours almost immediately. Everyone knew the son of Martha and Thomas Wayne. The billionaire prince of Gotham himself. You’ve been knee deep in research about his family since you’ve been here; seeing his face in person was a shock to the system. Standing next to him was the field office’s editor in chief, Edson.
Edson cleared his voice loudly, snapping the few heads that hadn’t yet turned. “Hi, everyone. Is Miss Y/l/n around?”
This shook your system even more; the heads now turned to stare at you. What did they want with you? Hesitantly, you raised your hand, waving awkwardly to the pair. A smile beamed on Edson’s face.
“Have you guys ever heard of an email?” You scoffed under your breath, striding across the bullpen. Bruce Wayne was haunting up close, his pale eyes darkening with each step you took towards him.
“Miss Y/l/n,” Edson led you into a private conference room, “Mr. Wayne here requested a sit-down with you. We know you’re the main writer on the recent news story centered around his family.”
“No disrespect, Mr. Edson, but I believe Mr. Wayne can speak for himself, but I’m not writing a story. I’m reporting the story of the Maroni case. Any involvement his family had will be in there, yes, but I’m not writing a hit piece. As you’re implying.”
A soft chuckle left Bruce’s mouth, Edson’s face as red as the spandex of Superman’s suit, which you once spent hours scrubbing alien guts out of.
“I apologize. I’ll leave the two of you.” Edson announced his exit, leaving you and Bruce sitting across from each other in overpriced plush leather chairs. The energy in this stuffy conference room makes your shoulders tense.
Deciding you would be the one to speak first, you took a breath. “I’m not here with the intention to bring more shame and pain on your family, Mr. Wayne. But there are stories to be told here. Your father, may he rest in peace, got multiple journalists killed-”
“He didn’t know they were going to be killed. He made a mistake.” Bruce’s voice shook. “He was protecting his wife. My mother.”
“I sympathize with that. I really do.” You said, your brows softening. “I would do anything for my partner, but I wouldn’t cover up 4 murders and a large crime syndicate for him.”
Bruce let out a sarcastic laugh, his eyes nearly rolling into the back of his head. “You and your partner,” the word sounded like venom on his tongue, “have no secrets? Not hiding anything from the world at all.”
Your heart fell into your stomach. The glint in his eye told you he knew more than he was letting on. There was no way Bruce Wayne, so far removed from Superman, would know anything about what was happening in Metropolis. Right?
“Surely you’re not making an accusation, Mr. Wayne.”
Your pointed stare made his lips tick up in amusement. “Never, Ms. Y/l/n. I was simply trying to make a point. I hope you took no offense.”
“Of course not.” You gave him the largest smile you could muster with the nerves still tingling underneath your skin.
“I only came today, hoping to get to know you. Understand if we could agree on keeping my mother’s legacy intact.”
“Not your father's?”
“My mother is more of my concern at the current moment in time.”
You nodded softly at the man, his dark circles taking away from the soft, dreary blue of his eyes.
“I do apologize, Mr. Wayne-”
He cut you off with the soft wave of his hand. “Please. Call me Bruce.”
Heat flushed to your cheeks at this strong gaze, you cleared your throat and let his name fall from your lips. He watched you so intently as if his name had never been spoken before.
“I just hope we can move forward at this time. I’ll only publish the piece regarding Maroni’s part in the murders. There’s a sense of camaraderie amongst us journalists, and I can’t do them a disservice by not bringing their deaths to light. Your father’s mistakes will be headlined, it’s inevitable, but consider all words of Martha’s past to be omitted.”
He seemed content with your words, standing up slowly. You followed him up, standing face-to-face with him.
“I’d love to read the piece before it’s published. Not to make changes,” He stressed after noticing the look on your face, “I enjoy your writing, Y/n. I respect your fight for vengeance."
“Justice. That’s the word I’d use.”
“That’s right.” He said, a grin on his face now. The same one as before, as if he knew more than he let on. Bruce Wayne was a walking mystery, and you couldn’t help the inner journalist in you that wanted to do nothing more than unravel him piece by piece.
You held your hand out to him, and he offered it gracefully, his cool hand engulfing yours with a gentle shake.
“Have a nice night.” You spoke, wanting nothing more than for his foreboding presence to be far away from you. With a tight-lipped smile, he walked out of the room, his black trench coat wafting behind him, reminding you of Clark’s cape whooshing in the wind.
You let out an anxious breath you didn’t know you were holding in. You had no idea what you were getting yourself into.
-
“I enjoy your writing, Y/n. I respect your fight for vengeance." “Justice. That’s the word I’d use.” The recording crackled throughout the quiet batcave, a rewind sound, and the recording played again. Bruce couldn’t help himself. From the moment he saw you, he was entranced by you. The way you carried yourself, never once backing down. What are the odds that Clark Kent’s girlfriend would show up in his city, under his watch? Not only that, but reporting on his family.
“Pretty girl. And who is she?” Alfred spoke, interrupting another one of Bruce’s depressing episodes of watching back the recording from his ventures. This time, it was the footage of you today, back straight and face stern.
“Y/n Y/l/n. Journalist.” Bruce spoke, clipped and straight to the point as always.
Used to this behavior, Alfred was unfazed, “And you’re watching her over and over, why?”
A sigh left his mouth, closing the recording. “She’s the one covering the Maroni case. They brought her from Metroplis.”
“Ah. Did she agree to disregard your mother’s past?”
“Yes.”
“I see..” Alfred’s last words lingered as he took his time leaving.
Bruce took his poking and prodding with a grain of salt. Looking at the clock, he knew it was around the time you’d be getting off work. He couldn’t help himself. From the night you arrived, he was watching. At first, it was only to get an idea of your motives, then it was to make sure you were being safe in the city. This would be the last time, at least that’s what he told himself while he suited up.
He felt dirty while he smudged the makeup on his eyes, pushing his greasy hair into his cowl. Just a few minutes, he told himself. He’d watch you get into your room safely, then he’d leave. That’s how it started. Soon it became a nightly ritual; despite whatever excuses he made for himself, he was still stalking Superman’s girlfriend. A fascination he’d been unable to shake.
-
That night, you couldn’t shake Bruce’s piercing eyes out of your mind; it was as if he knew something you didn’t. When Clark stumbled through the hallway to your room with takeout, all the thoughts of the man disappeared with the wind. It wasn’t until after dinner that Clark had you pressed against the bed did those haunted eyes flashed through your mind once more.
“Did you know Bruce Wayne spoke to me today?” You asked randomly, pretending as if Clark wasn’t pressing small kisses to your neck. He pulled back, his shoulders tensing.
“I didn’t.” He said calmly. You knew he took no offense to your brain being miles away while he was kissing you; he knew a journalist's mind better than most.
“It was strange,” you admitted, propping yourself on your elbows, “he wanted to talk about the pieces I’ve been writing about his family, which I understand. I don’t know, it just felt like he knew something about you. About us.”
The look on Clark’s face was the same one he used when he was trying to listen for Krypto thousands of miles away, getting into something he wasn’t supposed to. Unbeknownst to you, this is when Clark heard Batman’s gate saunter heavily onto the rooftop across the street, as if he was daring Clark to look. The pitter-patter of his heartbeat confirmed it was him, Batman in the flesh.
Concerned, you leaned closer, pressing your palm to his cheek. “Honey?”
As if snapped out of his thoughts, he gave you a gentle smile, “Sorry, I was just thinking. I don’t think I’ve ever crossed paths with him.” Technically not a lie, he never met Bruce Wayne, but he did know The Batman.
“He was probably just being a pompous rich guy. Trying to scare you into keeping quiet.” He offered, leaning forward on the bed, crawling on top of you.
“Probably. But I don’t know, there was something so… tortured about him.” You sighed, hands running up and down his chest, popping buttons open on his shirt. Attempting to end the conversation, Clark took his lips into yours again, his hands gripping your hips harshly. It was wilder than before, like something had taken him over compared to the way he was gently kissing you earlier.
“What’s gotten into you?” You asked, out of breath and panting, and you helped him throw his shirt off across the room.
“You.” The cheesy smile on his face nearly distracted you from how dark his eyes were. His hands gripped the hem of your shirt, ready to tear it into pieces.
“Should we close the blinds?” It was a rhetorical question, teasing him for leaving them open.
“I don’t know, should we?” His voice is gravelly. “What if I told you we had an audience?”
Your eyes nearly bulged out of your head at this information. “What?” You spluttered, horrified at the idea of strangers gawking at you during your intimate moments, even more horrified at how casual Clark was being about this.
“The Batman. Vengeance himself is across the street on that rooftop. Watching. Pretty sure he’s been the one watching you the past few weeks. I can’t believe I didn’t think of that.”
Of course, he would be privy to your sudden relocation to Gotham, but that just means he, too, found out his own secret identity.
Vengeance. Your mind was swirling. Why had Bruce decided to use that word specifically with you? There was no feasible way the scrawny, tortured man sitting across from you earlier today was Batman, but if he was, why was he hiding in the shadows watching you?
“Are you telling me that Bruce Wayne-”
“I didn’t say anything,” Clark said quickly, ever the loyal Boy Scout.
“Why is he watching me?” You settled on keeping your hands on his bare shoulders.
What Clark wasn’t going to divulge to you was how he could hear Batman’s pulse pick up the moment he began kissing you, the way his blood was rushing in between his legs. A lightbulb went off in Clark’s mind, an idea so riveting it made him catch his breath.
“Because who wouldn’t want to watch you, baby. Look at you.” His hands moved up to the hem of your shirt again, pulling the fabric up slowly. “And I need to show him who you belong to.”
There was no denying how the words he said went straight to your core. That’s what this was: Clark had a primal instinct to show you off to his unsettling co-worker. Your hesitation made his eyebrows furrow in concern.
“I’m s-sorry, I don’t know where that came from,” He started, his cheeks flushed, “I don’t mean any disrespect or to make you uncomfortable, I’ll go over there and knock him around real good for you, baby, I just-”
You cut off his rambling by grabbing his hand, guiding it underneath your skirt. Letting his fingers find your soaked heat. “Does this feel like I’m uncomfortable?”
The sound that came out of Clark’s throat was inhuman. He wasted no time in slipping his fingers past your panties, dipping right into your soaked heat. Your back arching against him.
“Such a minx.” He whispered against your skin, plying you apart with his fingers. Curling them into the spot that had you trembling. With a loud gasp, you brought his lips to yours again, mumbling curses as your cunt suckled his digits in deeper.
Right when you were on the cusp, his fingers stilled, causing a heartbroken whine to leave your throat. Before you could protest, he was dropping to his knees, his tongue lapping where your arousal had spilled all over your skin and his hand. His fingers began their pace again, his tongue sucking greedily on your sensitive bud.
You were falling apart in no time, your head lolling to the side. Peering out the darkened window, you didn’t have Clark’s vision, so all you could see was the dim reflection of your mouth agape, while Clark was between your legs. Wishing so desperately to meet Batman’s eyes while you came, to show him just exactly what Clark was doing to you. This only made you cum harder, screaming into the air while he savored every drop.
Clark’s face was glistening in your release when he came up for air, a joyous smile on his face. “Gosh, I never get tired of that.”
Giggles escaped your lips looking down at the man you loved. You cocked your finger at him with a come-hither motion, and he wasted no time. His shirt went flying, and his pants fell to his ankles. His body cradled yours when he kissed you deeply, hands roaming. It was easy to get lost in this with him. The pleasure and the love radiating off of you both were palpable in every room you stepped in, even more so when you were together like this. The most intimate and raw, except this time there was a guest.
Pulling away from his lips, spit still connecting, you couldn’t help but speak. “Our guest…”
Clark picked up immediately, letting his gaze fall onto the rooftop again. The bulge in his Batsuit was undeniable. His blood was rushing through his veins at lightning speed, going straight to his cock. His breathing was shallow, eyes locked onto the couple intently. Each time Clark looked this way, Bruce found his throat dry. Clark’s neck muscles tensed with each turn of his head, the way your body arched off the bed rivaling that of a Greek painting. Bruce knew he should have left the moment Clark’s hands trailed up your shirt, but he couldn’t. His feet were cemented on the ground, his body heavy. He knew Clark knew he was there, but never once did the Kryptonian close the curtains or fly over here and smash him through 30 stories of concrete.
Just a simple nod, an open invitation to watch. One that Bruce was happy to accept, no matter the consequences. Anything to admire the curves of your body, to imagine how both of your skins would feel brushing against his own. A shudder ran through his body at the thought. The perverted feeling only made his cock ache more.
“He’s still there. You okay, honey?” Clark asked you, hand cupping your cheek.
You answered him with an eager nod and a pathetic plea. His cock rutted against your clit, sliding your wetness all over him. When he couldn’t take it anymore, he let his tip prod your entrance, slowly sinking into your warm heat. No matter how many times the two of you did this, it never failed to take your breath away. Your body took him expertly, the stretch feeling like home to you.
“Oh fuck.” You gasped when his hips met yours, giving you little time to adjust. His hands held your legs open wide for him, watching every time your cunt sucked him back in greedily.
From the rooftop, Bruce couldn’t control himself; the lust was overtaking every reasonable thought he had. He fumbled with his gear, pushing the kevlar out of the way. He hissed the moment his cock escaped the confines, the chill air making him twitch. Precum leaked from his tip, his gloved hand wrapping around himself in a smooth motion.
Clark had looked over towards the window as he ravished you, squinting to see the shadowed figure that was on his mind. He heard the shuffling and could only imagine the man was rubbing his own hard on over his tactile gear. The mental image made Clark’s cock twitch from where it was inside of you. Between that and the way your tits bounced with each thrust, he was already on the verge of losing it. When he finally saw the man, his imagination wasn’t far off. Batman’s cock was hanging outside of his suit, his gloved hand stroking himself in slow, drawn-out strokes.
Noticing Clark’s gaze out the window, you knew what he was looking for. “Is he watching?” Your voice drew him out of his trance. “What’s he doing?”
Clark looked back down at you, pressing his lips to yours in a harsh kiss. “He’s stroking his cock to us. I wish you could see honey.”
A heat bloomed in your belly, clenching around his cock, spurring Clark’s movements even more. You couldn’t deny feeling left out of the moment Clark and Bruce were having through the window pane, but the sensation of Clark rutting inside you was more than enough. “Well, we have to give him a show, right?”
“Yeah, baby, I guess we do.” He wasted no time in pressing his hand on your lower stomach, pistoning his hips faster than before. The pressure on the bulge of him in your guts had you mewling. One of his hands reached down, rubbing fast circles on your clit, the slick sounds filling the room.
Between Clark’s ministrations and the idea of The Batman getting off to watching both of you had you reaching your high. Your back arched, gripping the bedsheets so tight your hands began to ache. Thinking of how the two of you looked, so lost in pleasure with each other.
“Come on,” He urged, “Want to show him just how well you cum around this cock.”
That was all it took for you to gush around him, yelling his name in gasping breaths.
“You like that, don’t you? Knowing he’s watching me split you open?” He panted, watching where your release dripped off his cock that was sliding in and out of you with little resistance. Your cunt gripping him like a vice, making his legs shake.
“Y-yes,” You whined, looking up at the man. His face flushed, eyes fixated on where you were connected, “I’m yours. All yours.”
You all but wailed when he pushed in deeper, stilling his hips for a moment. “All. Mine.” He grunted, giving himself one last look through the window.
Bruce’s hand was moving faster now, his top teeth biting down on his lip through the cowl. His tip was flushed, begging for a release. Clark could see the tension in his shoulders, the want in his eyes. For both of you.
“I’m gonna show him you’re mine,” Clark spoke, his hips moving again, chasing his high. All you could do was nod, letting out screams of pleasure as he pried another orgasm out of you, relishing every time your cum coated him. One final act of your cunt gushing around him was all it took for Clark to cum. His hips stuttered and stilled, filling your cunt up with his load. Before he was finished, he pulled out, rubbing his cock quickly, letting his aftershocks spurt all over your stomach and chest.
He grunted your name, unable to think of anything else but the fucked out look in your eye. His release painting your skin. He wished he were an artist so he could paint this to show you how beautiful you were.
“I wish he could see this.” You mumbled absentmindedly, reaching your hand down your ruined skin. Your fingers circled your cum covered clit, rubbing small circles on the swollen bud. Clark held your legs open wide, watching drops of his release plop onto the bed.
“He’s watching.” Clark breathed out, turning to watch just in time as Bruce came. Spurting his own cum pathetically all over the rooftop. Whimpering with each thrust of his hand. The shame rolled off of him the moment he was done, shoving his limp cock back inside the suit, he took one last look before he faded back into the shadows.
“And he’s gone.” He let out an out-of-breath laugh, walking over to shut the curtain. Signaling the end of the show for the night.
“No one else saw. Promise.” He spoke, gathering a warm washcloth to help clean you.
“I know.” The blissed out smile still on your lips. “That was….”
“Yeah.” He sighed, a flush creeping up his cheeks. “That’s gonna make future encounters quite awkward.”
You let his words sit in the air a moment, wrapping the sheets around yourself. “Or quite nice.”
He looked at you with a raised brow, urging you to continue.
“I love you. You love me. That’s never changing, but I know you enjoyed that. Probably just as much as me. If not more.”
His face was now beet red; he was never ashamed around you, never. He knew you’d never judge him.. “I just think it could be fun to continue this. Maybe I could actually see this time.” You finished.
He let the words roll around his head, trying to avoid his cock stirring at just the idea. “Maybe. If you’re good.”
“Oh, please.” You giggled, pulling him close to you. Lying your head on his sweaty chest. “Just think about it. I’m only here for another week. When the paper goes live, he’ll be at the party. I’m sure of it.”
All that night, it was all Clark could think about. The week passed by in the blink of an eye. You kept the curtains closed and never felt that feeling of being watched again; in a way, you’d never admit, you kind of missed it.
-
The morning of the publication date, Clark brought you breakfast from your favorite place in Metropolis, kissing you hungrily. Before he flew off to work, he paused, “Tonight. Give him an invitation. Just to see. I’ll be back at 9.”
A smirk appeared on your face, sliding the extra hotel card in your clutch. The paper was a success, and the bullpen was full of congratulations and farewells. You enjoyed your time here, but you were ready to be home. There was only one thing that could keep you in Gotham.
The dress you had on was starting to suffocate you as the hours on the clock taunted you. It was nearly 8 pm, and Bruce Wayne had yet to make an appearance. Unbeknownst to you, Bruce had been outside for the past few hours, mustering up the courage to enter the threshold. In his typical suit and tie, clad with a bouquet, Alfred insisted he should bring. Praying he didn’t stink of shame, he summoned up the courage to take a step inside, bombarded by people immediately. His awkward answers to reporters' questions and his immediate refusal to interview.
“Bruce!” Edson shouted, making you turn around to spot the man you’d been searching for all night. He looked like a deer in the headlights, cradling flowers in his hand as if they were a weapon of mass destruction. With each step he took, you tried to calm the stirring in your belly.
“I believe congratulations are in order.” He mumbled. Gone was the confident Bruce Wayne you met weeks ago.
“Thank you, Mr. Wayne.” You flashed him a toothy grin, his eyes never meeting yours. Nervousness was radiating off of him, so palpable that Edson excused himself to grab another drink.
“Bruce. I told you to call me Bruce.” He let out a shaky laugh, handing the flowers over to you. “On behalf of the Wayne estate.”
You took them happily, “Why, thank you, Bruce.”
He pretended his knees didn't almost buckle when his name rolled off your tongue. The red roses with blue accent flowers were so on the nose that it almost made you laugh.
A loud call of your name had you looking around, a group of staff ready to bid you farewell. Your eyes softened at Bruce, knowing you’d have to run.
“I’m sorry-“
“No, no! Don’t worry about it. I just needed to drop these off.” He said, ready to rush off. You stopped him with a gentle touch on his hand while you slid the plastic card out of your pocket.
You slid the hotel key into his palm, covering it with your own. He raised his brow quickly at you, “What is this?”
The smile never left your face, slowly letting his hand go. His palm clenched tightly around the key. Before you sauntered away, you gave him a wink, whispering two words to him. “An invitation.”
