A/N: This is my first fic, it’s not even long, and it took me nearly a day and a half to write 💀 But anyways, enjoy a lil drabble of Bruce getting his shit rocked
The situation was serious, as ridiculous as it would appear. Clark tried to remind himself of the fact that Bruce’s identity was at stake here as he took to the skies to his friend’s rescue.
Normally, this wouldn’t be such a big deal. Batman needs backup, he has his own tiny malicia of raven haired kids that knew their way around a fight. But said kids were currently entertaining guests at Wayne Manor. At a party. A partyBruce was supposed to begin to host an hour ago.
This is serious, Clark repeats, even as he lands and stares down at a restrained, on his knees, and thoroughly pissed off Batman. Thankfully, whatever goon had chained him up had left his cowl on and spared him the death threat of exposing Gotham’s most recognizable face on full view in the alley. A thick, military grade leather bound Bruce’s wrists together so the palms met, connected to a steel chain that ran its way and secured itself to an air conditioning system. The risk of trying to pull away and get blasted with dangerously hot air was one Bruce would rather not take.
It wasn’t the unfortunate pose that sent Clark over the edge, though. It was the bright clown makeup that was painted on Bruce’s lower face, giving him a giant goofy grin that stretched across his entire jaw. That, paired with the infamous bat-glare?
Bruce looked up at the other, growling when Clark grabbed the ears of his cowl and tugged it off. “The metal should be able to be melted by your lasers, just try to avoid zapping my hands off-”
Bruce stared in dismay as Clark quickly covered his mouth, looking away to hide his amusement. “Are you serious right now?!”
“Oh come on, Bruce, you’ve gotta admit it, this is funny!” Clark barked out another chuckle, not even trying to hide if this time. “Relax, we all have our rock bottoms, it could be worse.”
“Rock- rock bottom?” Bruce’s voice heightened in pitch. Since when was Clark so vicious in his teasing? “I’ll show you rock bottom you son of a-” He stops, scowling when Clark fell into another fit of laughter. This was hopeless. “Just untie me!”
“Okay okay, just let me do something,” Clark pulled out his phone, standing back and pulling up his camera, “for Diana, come on, smile!”
Clark pouted, looking over his phone and giving Bruce his baby blue puppy eyes. “Pleasee?” The trio had been dating for at least a month now, and much was to be learned about their stoic middle. For one, he hated salads, absolutely despised them. For another? Batman was surprisingly weak to Clark’s golden retriever gaze.
Bruce huffed and looked away, puffing his cheek. “I said no.”
“Pretty please? With a cherry on top, even?”
“Kansas style begging won’t work on mEHE!” Lurching forward with a surprised gasp, Bruce looked slowly at the hand that had delivered a round of squeezes to his hip. “Clark..” he chose his words carefully, inhaling slowly, “do. not.”
“Don’t do what, Mister Wayne?”
“Please.” His voice is nearly a whisper, barely audible to anyone that doesn’t have super hearing.
As if Clark would listen anyway.
Bruce threw his head back once a pair of hands settled on his hips and squeezed, thumbs rubbing firm circles into the soft pockets connecting his thigh to his waist. Deep inhales was all he could use to steel himself, lips wobbling as they tried their best to restrain the threatening smile and laughter. “Don- nngh! Dohon’t!”
Clark scribbled his fingers up and down his sides, revelling in the way Bruce arched and twisted side to side.
“Nonono- paha! Cla- clahaaahaha- rk!” He wailed, shaking his head back and forth quickly in any attempt to take control of his body. Every scratch and wiggle of the other’s fingers sent Bruce up the wall, ripping laughs and snorts from him. He gasped between bouts of laughter, cheeks a bright pink in the cold night air. “Fuhuhuck you!”
“Not right now, maybe later.” Clark mused, tapping his fingers on either side of Bruce’s neck, almost bursting into laughter himself when the poor man squealed. “I’m glad you’re finally finding this funny.”
“Ihihim laughing cause- because you’re torturing me!”
Clark delved into that soft, pudgy spot on Bruce’s lower belly that not even the suit could protect, delivering poke after poke to the delicate pouch.
Screaming laughter could be heard from that alley for at least another fifteen minutes, but anyone who eavesdropped wouldn’t dare investigate the bubbly giggles and snorts.
Must be a couple of kids in love teasing each other past curfew.
discoholicmusic
germansingergirl
stormborns
gracieabrams
ellievsbear
areudirty
