#and tim wants to stuff damians mouth full of marshmallows | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

empower-bi-women · 3 years

Note

Hi! In case you write for Tim Drake, I’d love if you could write a smut in which Tim and the reader have known each other for long and the sexual tension is obvious but none of them ever acted upon it until now. Thank you very much.

That pesky sexual tension

Summery: Hi! In case you write for Tim Drake, I’d love if you could write a smut in which Tim and the reader have known each other for long and the sexual tension is obvious but none of them ever acted upon it until now. Thank you very much.

Warnings: SMUT so if you’re not 18 begone thot, spanking, teasing, dirty talk, cheesy writing?

A/N: I tried to be a little more cute with this one so let me know what you think. And to the anon who requested this I’m sorry it took so long I hope you like it! Also this is my first ask!! So sorry if the format is a little strange I’m still trying to figure it out.

Word count: 3041

“Timothy Drake, I swear to god give me back my book!” you chased him into the kitchen where he ran to the other side of the counter.

“Why don't you come over here and make me.” He replied with a teasing smile on his face. You lunged forward across the cold counter top to reach for your book. He laughed at your struggle “Come on Y/N you know you never won a fight against me without someone helping you.”

Shit he had a point you thought, everyone else was out at the store. You gave up, sitting on the counter with you back to him and pouted. Arms crossed looking towards the open door. Laughing he walked over to face you.

“Aw come on I was just teasing.” he put his arms down on either side of you, trapping you in but you refused to look at him. “Come on look at me,” he leaned down to try and catch your gaze but you just moved your head. “Y/N?” he looked at you with wide eyes before they narrowed, “Y/N look at me.” His voice dropped into that commanding tone he used on patrol. You couldn’t help but look up to meet those blue eyes that bore into yours. The silence in the room was deafening. He leaned in closer and closer until your breath was his. Noses almost brushing. Lips almost touching. He glanced down at your lips.

The kitchen door burst open causing the two of you to jump apart as the rest of the boys walked in carrying grocery bags, chatting loudly. Dick and Jason froze in the doorway causing Damian to bump into them from behind.

“Now what do we have here?” Jason asked in a teasing voice.

“Nothing. Did you get my coffee?” Tim said, his voice back to normal.

“Did you put it on the list?” Dick asked, shooting you a strange look as you hopped off the counter, “what were you guys doing in here anyway?”

“Tim took my book right out of my hands so I had to get it back.” You replied.

“Damn I thought you were finally resolving that pesky sexual tension.” Jason said through a mouth full of marshmallows.

“Jason!” You, Tim, and Dick all yelled out.

“What! This has been going on for way too long. We were all thinking it” He tried to defend himself.

“We most certainly were not Master Jason,” Alfred came to save the day, “and please refrain from eating all the food before it's even put away.”

He grumbled before putting the bag away. You snached your book away from Tim before walking into the living room to finish reading.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Come on please Y/N just look it up! It won’t even take five minutes.” Tim pleaded with you, hiding a smile on his face.

“I thought you were the computer wiz, do it yourself.” You replied, not looking at him. He grabbed the back of your chair and spun you to face him. Kneeling down he looked in your eyes. “Please?” his voice was barely above a whisper as he leaned in closer, “for me?”

Your cheeks heated up. “I’m busy right now, go ask someone else.”

“Ok can you just check this one thing please?”

“Out!” You spun your chair away from him but he still leaned down and pressed a kiss to your head before walking away. You shook your head trying to clear the thoughts running through your head of the way his forearms flexed as he gripped the chair arms. The way his bright blue eyes looked like they wanted to devour you whole. Ugh this man is going to kill me you thought.

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That night you were working comms with Barbara in the cave. Things were going smoothly until Tim called in.

“Hey Oracle, hey angel, can you guys find out who that guy over there is and what he's doing please and thank you.” Your eyes went wide at the nickname he gave you. You could see Barbara looking at you out of the corner of your eye and heard Jason and Dick laughing though the comms. You ignored them as your fingers flew across the keyboard as facial rec worked its magic.

“His name is Jimmy Figgis. He’s fresh out of bellrev, he was in for drug dealing and black mail.” You said into the comms.

“Well it would be a shame if he got caught red handed doing a deal. He would go back to jail.” Barbara chimed in.

“Looks like we got a stake out boys.” Dick said.

“It's ok guys, I can stay for the drop.” Tim said, his voice low as he settled in for the night, “I'll have Y/N to keep me company, right angel?”

“I mean it's not like I have a choice do I.”

Not even half an hour later Tim started to get bored. And his target was you. Barbara had to leave to take care of some other stuff so you were alone. Tim decided it would be a good idea to switch frequencies and mess with you.

“Hey Y/N, have you ever thought about us while touching yourself?”

You spat out your coffee. “What the fuck Timothy!” You heard his laughter on the other side of the line.

“Well I'm just asking because I know for a fact that Dick thinks of Babs and Jason thinks of Diana sometimes but he would never admit it. And I got curious. Who do you think of?”

You could practically hear the smile in his voice. “Wouldn't you like to know. You really should focus on the stake out instead of my masturbation habits.”

“Aw angel I can almost see you blushing from here. You look adorable.”

“Shut up Tim.”

“Have I ever told you how much I love hearing you say my name? It sounds so sweet I can almost imagine what you would sound like screaming it underneath me.”

You froze. You and Tim had always had a flirtatious relationship but this was a new level entirely. This was dangerous territory. “Don't start things you can't finish Timothy.” Your voice was low.

“Oh believe me angel I always finish. And I make sure my partner does too.”

You threw your head back in frustration. “Focus on the stake out and we can continue this later.”

“Is that a promise?”

Before you could reply Bruce’s voice crackled through the comms “Red Robin we’re coming to you.”

-------------------------------------------------------------

A few arrests and fight later the bats rolled into the cave. Alfred was on standby with the medical kit but there was no need. You shifted uncomfortably as Tim’s eyes raked over your body, pausing on your legs that were squeezed together, trying and failing to give you relief from the ache in your pussy. He smirked at the site of you waiting for him, all needy.

“Good job tonight guys. Shower and get some sleep,” Bruce said, taking his cowl off, “I’m looking at you Tim.”

Tim just smiled. You both knew there would be no sleeping tonight. Tim walked over to you, his cowl was off and his dark hair was messy. Fuck he looked good you thought to yourself. The look on his face was calm but you could see something in his eyes. All the years you've known him, you had never seen this look in his eyes. It was dark and lit a fire inside you.

“Do you still want to do this? Because once we start, I'm not stopping.” his blue eyes stared into yours.

“I believe I have a promise to fulfill.”

He gave you a wicked smile. “I want you upstairs in my room, ten minutes. And no touching yourself.” He tapped your thighs that were pressed together before walking away.

-------------------------------------------------------

Your head was a mess by the time you headed up to Tim’s room. You had bid goodnight to the rest of the boys when your phone chimed. Tim had sent you a picture from the shower. Towel low on his hips showing off his v line, water droplets glistening off his abs, and the way his hand gripped his phone showed off all the muscles and veins in his arms. The wetness between your legs grew with every step towards his room. You knocked on his door, the loud sound of your knuckles against the wood echoed throughout the hallway.

“Come in.” His voice was muffled by the door. You walked in to find him sitting on a chair across from the bed in nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants. “Lock the door.” His voice was low and commanding, not unlike that day in the kitchen. That same electric energy that you felt then was in the room, now magnified by 100.

“I'm going to ask you one more time, are you sure you want this?”

“Yes Tim I’m sure.”

“Good girl,” the praise sent shivers down your spine, “Take off your clothes and lay down on the bed.” Your heart was beating out of your chest as you slowly took your shirt off. “I don't recommend teasing me angel, it won't work out well for you.” You just smiled as you turned around, taking your pants off while wiggling your ass tauntingly. You didn’t even hear him move before you felt a sharp pain across your backside. You moaned at the contact.

“Aw does my little angel like pain?” he questioned mockingly before coming down on you again, “I asked you a question Y/N, I expect and answer.”

“Yes sir.” You heard him laugh behind you. He wrapped his hand in your hair and pulled you up against his warm chest. “Well isn't that a nice surprise. I always knew you had a thing for authority.” His voice was low in your ear. Your head went back to rest on his shoulder as he kissed his way down your neck, sucking and biting the skin there. His movements against your body are slow and calculating. Tim always seemed gentle and calm but the truth is that no one knows how he respresed his emotions, and his needs. But tonight he was going to take whatever he wanted. And you would let him.

“What do you have to say for yourself?” His hands caressed your skin.

“I’m sorry sir.”

“Sorry for what?”

You took a shallow breath. He was really going to make you work tonight. “For teasing you.”

He turned you around to face him. “Such a good girl for me, aren’t you?” He said softly, brushing your hair out of your face, before kissing your lips gently. Looking into his eyes you could never tell what he was thinking. His face was calm and passive. That is until he let go. And you would do whatever it takes to see him lose control. Even if that meant misbehaving.

“Get on the bed for me angel.” he kissed your forehead before turning his back on you but you didn’t move. He grabbed a red tie from his desk and turned around, his eyes widening at the sight of you still standing there. “Did you not hear me?” He raised his eyebrows at you, “I said, get on the bed. Now.”

You could see the annoyance in his eyes. He was starting to slip, you wouldn’t stop now.

“Make me.”

Those two words lit a fire in him. He picked you up easily and threw you onto the bed with such force that you bounced. “I told you not to tease me angel.” He growled as he crawled towards you on the bed. He grabbed your ankle and pulled you towards him so he was hovering over you, arm placed next to your head. His hot breath hit your face. “You were being so good angel, what happened? Why are you being a brat now.”

You whimpered at his words. His hand slipped down to your panties and rubbed a finger up and down your slit ever so lightly.

“Tim please.” You begged him. A sharp smack to your thigh brought you out of your daze.

“I'm sorry, what was that?” his voice has a dangerous edge to it. His eyes were wild, “that not what you're calling me tonight, is it.”

“Sir, please! Please touch me, I need it.” You pleaded with him. He rolled his hips into yours, putting pressure where you needed him most.

“Will you listen to me now?”

“Yes anything you say.” You replied, needing to feel him closer.

He moved in to kiss you, stopping just before your lips touched. You moved up trying to close the distance but his hand was quick around your throat, forcing you back down. “I'm going to eat this pretty little pussy,” he murmured, “I want you to stay still and you must ask for permission before you cum. Understood?”

You nodded, desperate for anything he would give you. He removed his hand from your neck and kissed his way down your body to your soaked panties. His rough hands spread your thighs open, leaving a wet kiss on both before pressing a kiss to your clothed clit. You shifted your hips up, trying desperately to get more stimulation. His arm trapped your hips down.

“Now angel, what did I tell you about moving?” He moved away from where you needed him most.

“I’m sorry sir, please I need you.” You looked at him with desperate eyes.

“All these years I’ve known you, you've always been a tease to me. Whether you knew it or not. I've been waiting for so long for this, I’m going to take my sweet time,” he growled, “you can lay there and shut up, it's my turn to tease you now Y/N.”

He dove back in and licked a long stripe over your panties. Heat washed over your body as you felt your pussy gush at his actions. He slowly pulled them off your body leaving kisses down your legs. Leaving hickeys on your inner thighs. He ran his tongue over the dark red marks he left behind. Throwing your panties somewhere in his room, he came back to your throbbing core. Running a finger through your wetness he cooed at you. “Oh angel you're just soaking wet for me aren't you? I can't wait to taste this sweet little cunt.”

He licked up your slit, collecting your juices. He moaned at the taste. His tongue flicked against your clit ever so lightly, giving you some stimulation but not enough. One hand snaked up in between your thighs to play with your cunt.

You threw your head back at the sensation of his tongue and fingers working their magic on your body. His lips wrapped around your clit and sucked. You gasped at the sensation, shivers running down your spine. His finger teased your entrance.

“You’re fucking drenching me sweetheart. You taste so good when you're like this for me.”

“Please sir I need you.”

“Where do you need me angel?” his finger slid all the way in, “right here?”

Your eyes rolled back as he finally gave you what you wanted. His finger rubbed against your g spot immediately, making soft moans escape your mouth. “Does that feel good?”

“Yes” You whimpered. He smacked your thigh. “What was that?” He said roughly, looking up to meet your eyes.

“I’m sorry, yes it feels good sir.”

Satisfied with your answer he slowly pumped his finger in and out of you, rubbing your clit in tight circles with his thumb. Before long you were thrashing on the sheets, hands gripping the pillow above your head. Your stomach fluttering as you neared your climax.

“Are you a good girl?” Tim questioned.

“Yes sir.” you cried out, “please let me cum, please sir.” Your voice was shaking as you tried to control yourself. Out of nowhere he pulled away, licking his fingers as he watched you kick your legs in frustration.

“What the FUCK Timothy!” You shouted as he got off the bed and walked to his desk. Laughing to himself he reached into a drawer and pulled out a condom.

“Gotta be safe right?” He said with a smirk on his face.

You sighed. “I thought you were just going to leave me there.”

“That's only if you’re a bad girl but you've been good for me so far, so good that I’ll give you what you want.” He said sliding into you. He leaned down and kissed your forehead as you both caught your breath. Once you adjusted to him you tapped his shoulder to move.

“You feel so good wrapped around me angel.” Tim whispered softly in your ear, as he thrust his hips into yours. Finally getting what you needed. You wrapped your legs around him pulling him as close as you could. Your lips met in a heated kiss as the knot in your stomach grew impossibly tighter. His hips snapped into yours at a steady rhythm. Your legs trembled as your orgasm approached at a blinding speed.

Your hips moved to meet his every thrust.

“Tim I’m gonna cum.” You said breathlessly

“Just wait angel one more minute.” The pleasure almost overwhelmed you but the need to be good for him won out. “I want you to cum with me in 3,” your nails clawed down his back, “2,” your eyes fluttered shut, “1.” He growled in your ear.

Your stomach contracted as your body shook with pleasure. His hips stuttered to a stop but his hand kept rubbing you, prolonging your orgasm as long as he could.

You finally pushed his hand away, the feeling getting to be too much. You both lay there next to each other, catching your breath.

“So does this mean we’re together?” You asked, your voice small.

He rolled over to look at you, a big smile on his face. “Definitely.”

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mentalmimosa · 5 years

Text

no room left for doubt

That he invites Clark at all is a surprise; that Clark shows up bearing gifts and balancing several pies, somehow, is not.

“Hi,” he says when Bruce meets him in the hall, divested of gifts by the kids and the pies by a very chuffed Alfred. “Merry Christmas.”

There’s a shyness to him, a sort of sweetness, that even out in the open, in sunlight instead of shadow, Bruce finds damned hard to resist. So there’s a kiss.

“You look nice.” Clark nuzzles his cheek. “Mmmm, smell nice, too.”

“Kent.” The word comes out more breathless than he’d like.

“What?” A blink of blue eyes, a thoroughly innocent grin. “You do. That’s just plain fact. I’m only telling it like it is.”

Bruce kisses him again because it’s easier than arguing and Clark holds him close, sighs when he slips a hand inside of Clark’s jacket and scratches at his back. And Clark is easy, Clark is caramel, because his mouth melts at the touch of Bruce’s tongue and he groans just a little, just enough for Bruce to remember that they’re not behind the solid lock of his bedroom door, or even in the depths of the cave: they’re out here in the open, in the heart of Bruce’s house, with prying eyes only an arm’s length away.

“Behave yourself,” he says in Clark’s ear, as much to himself as to Clark. “You can do that, can’t you?”

Clark’s expression is gorgeous, trapped between arousal and exasperation and a shaded face of affection. “Huh. You greet all your guests like this, Bruce?”

Bruce grins and lets him go. “Only the ones I don’t like.”

In the library, there’s a fire in the grate and a tree a mile high. Dick is knee deep in the eggnog and Tim’s singing along to Bing Crosby and Damian’s hanging upside down from the book ladder, twirling batarangs and swaying in time to the music, his face the same scarlet as his sweater. All in all, a rare kind of peace.

“Mr. Kent!” Tim calls when they push through the doors. “We thought you got lost.”

“No, we didn’t,” Damian says, pitching his voice over Bing. “We thought Bruce took you upstairs to--”

“Damian!” Dick barks.

The kid scowls at him, upside down cross-eyed. “What? You’re the one who said it.”

Now Bruce’s cheeks are red and he kind of wants to sink through the floor even though Clark is smiling at the whole scene, a big beam that refuses to dim as the bickering kicks up in pitch.

“See?” Clark says, sotto voce. “This is why I always wanted siblings.”

“Hmph. This is why I’m glad I’m an only child.”

“Hmm, maybe. But you’re a heck of a dad.” A squeeze of his fingers, a shout. “Hey! Fellas, is that eggnog? I love that stuff. Think I could have a cup?”

The boys freeze in mid-tussel, Tim caught between Damian’s fists and Dick’s snarl. “Um,” Tim says. “Of course you can. Sure. You can have a whole glass. Dick’s the only one that likes it.”

“Yeah, because it’s gross,” Damian declares. He flips out of Tim’s grip and onto his feet. “Eggs and milky stuff? Yuck.”

“Hmm,” Clark says. “Have I ever told you about the first time I tried eggnog? Well, the first time that I ever tried to make it, actually?”

It’s so obvious a turn, an attempt to redirect, that Bruce rolls his eyes; Clark’s got a lot to learn about kids.

Except Damian doesn’t turn away with a sneer like he would’ve if Bruce had tried something that corny. Instead, he tilts his head and squints. “Were you making it as a weapon? I can see how that might be effective.”

“Ah, no.”

“Was it a thing in your family?” Dick asks. “A tradition, I mean?”

Clark laughs, a sound that lights up the room. “No. Definitely not.”

“Did you have a ton of eggs you needed to get rid of?” Tim settles on the rug in front of the fire, his legs folded neatly beneath. “You grew up on a farm, right?”

“I did,” Clark says, taking a seat on the rose-colored settee next to Dick. “And we did have a lot of chickens, but no, that wasn’t why, either.”

Damian slips his batarangs into his belt--yes, he’s wearing his utility belt with his dress pants and Christmas sweater, so be it--and crosses his arms, leans his hip against the nearest wingback. “So, why then?”

Clark settles back. “Well,” he says, “it started with a visit from some friends. Some folks who’d become friends, that is. At the time, I’d never met them before until they showed up at our front door.”

Ten minutes and one Legion of Super-Heroes later, the boys are leaning towards him, following his every work and laughing at every aw shucks joke. Damian’s even sitting in a chair rather than on it. It’s some kind of weird Christmas miracle, one that’s still holding when Alfred comes to the door and calls them to lunch.

“So they really don’t have chickens in the 31st century?” Damian asks, scooting along at Clark’s side.

“Apparently not.”

“Huh.” Bruce can see the gears in the kid’s head turning. “Interesting.”

“You realize,” Bruce says as Damian zips ahead and starts yammering at Tim, “that he’s going to obsess about that for a week.”

Clark laughs. “Only a week? Darn it. I was aiming for two, at least.”

At the table, Dick says grace and Alfred passes plates, watching eagle-eyed to make sure there’s plenty.

“Master Damian,” he says, “let’s take as many yams as we do marshmallows, yes? And Master Dick, the gravy boat is just there, on your right. And yes, Master Tim, the brussels sprout casserole is vegan, as you requested; I omitted the fish oil this time.”

Bruce chuckles, nudges Clark in the shoulder. “He’s more a mother hen than I’ll ever be.”

“Master Bruce,” Alfred calls, “there are more rolls down this end. Would you like some?”

Clark squeezes his knee under the table and laughs. “You were saying, Master Bruce?”

“Oh, see if you get an extra roll now, Mr. Kent.”

“Is that a threat, Mr. Wayne?”

“You better believe it is, Supes.”

There’s a burst of snickers from across the table. “Oh, man,” Tim says. “You guys are adorable.”

“Blech,” Damian says through a mouthful of potatoes. “They’re even grosser than you and Barbara, Dick.”

Dick gives up a big, mournful sigh. “One day you’ll be in love, brat, and you won’t think it’s so gross.” His hand goes to his phone, half-buried under his salad plate. “But maybe I should try her again, though. She’s probably at her dad’s now, anyway. I should--”

“After lunch,” Bruce says. “You can call her then.”

“After lunch is presents!”

“You’ve waited this long, D,” Tim says. “Ten more minutes won’t hurt.”

“But it won’t be ten minutes! They’ll talk for hours!”

“Master Damian, no knives at the table.”

“No phones either, but Dick has his!”

“We could sneak out,” Bruce says in Clark’s ear. “I honestly don’t think that they’d notice.”

Clark’s mouth turns up. “Sneak out? Why, Mr. Wayne. Why on earth would we do that?”

“So I could take you upstairs. And you could unwrap your present.”

“My present, huh?” Two fingers on the inside of his thigh, a slow, insolent stroke. “You mean it isn’t under the tree?”

“It can be. Later. If you have a thing for pine needles.”

“I have a thing for you.” Those two fingers slide higher. “But I’m pretty sure that you know that. Hence you trying to lure me away.”

“Me?” Bruce has to swallow, has to fight the urge to tip his hips up. “Lure you? Never.”

A smile, a full-on shot of blue, amused eyes. “Good. Because I want the whole Wayne family Christmas experience before I get anywhere near your cock.”

Bruce chokes. “Before you--?”

“Presents!” Damian yells, his voice like a razor-edged gong. “It’s time to open presents, guys! Alfred says!”

“I hate you,” Bruce murmurs as the gang gets up and turns away from the table in an Alfred-led melee. “Sometimes, I really, really hate you, Kent.”

Clark leans over and drags their mouths together, pets the swell in Bruce’s trousers. “You love me,” he says. “That’s what makes this hard.”

“No, pretty sure that’s you doing that.”

Clark laughs. “Come on. Let’s go see what Santa’s brought.”

Tim insists they take turns opening gifts and it makes Damian crazy. Which Bruce figures is sort of the point.

“Fine!” Damian shouts when it’s clear he’s been overruled. “But I get to go first.”

Soon enough, there’s paper everywhere, ribbons and tissue paper caught in the boys’ hair and snagged in the arms of the tree. Clark appoints himself Santa/referee.

“Ok,” he says, diving into the pile. “Remind me, guys--who’s next?”

Alfred gets a new sous vide machine, the one he’s been waxing about for a month, and reaches out to hug each of the boys in turn.

“Dick picked it out,” Damian says, but he takes the hug anyway, his fierce little face disappearing for a moment against Alfred’s bony shoulder.

“Damian tried to break it,” Dick says with a laugh, squeezing Alfred tight. “But I double-taped the box.”

“I’m glad you like it,” Tim says, a big smile and a bigger embrace.

“Of course I do,” Alfred says, his gray eyes going wet. “Thank you, boys. Thank you.”

Dick gets a new laptop and Tim a leather-bound set of Holmes collections and Damian a set of Choose Your Own Adventure books and a new throwing knife set.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea, Bruce?” Dick says, draping himself over the back of the couch. “I mean, no offense, but the kid’s got enough blades, don’t you think?”

“Yes, but this come with a caveat. Don’t they, D?”

Damian’s frowning at a piece of paper. “This says I can only use them with Ms. Lance. What’s that mean?”

“It means," Bruce says, "that Dinah’s going to teach you how to throw them like she does. In a balanced and more practiced way.”

That gets him a look like could melt glass. “Ugh. Why? I already know how to throw.”

“Because adding different techniques to your repertoire makes you harder to fight. When you can mix things up, diversify your approach, you can throw your opponents off balance faster. Gives you a big advantage.”

Damian blinks. “Huh. Really?”

“Really. But she won’t go easy on you. I’ve asked her not to.”

A wicked grin kicks over the kid’s face. “Good.”

Bruce laughs. “Yeah, I thought you’d like that.”

“Does this mean Ms. Lance will be coming here?” Tim asks. “To the house? Like, um, a lot?”

“Most likely, yes.”

A different kind of smile blooms on Tim’s face, dreamy and pleased. “Oh, wow. Wow. That’s--that sounds great.”

“Huh,” Damian says. He stares at Tim, suspicious. “She’s coming to train me, not you. You can’t butt in, can he, Bruce?”

Bruce gets a look at Clark’s face which is a gigantic mistake; it takes all he has not to laugh. “No, he can’t, D.”

Damian smacks Tim on the arm, doesn’t at all dislodge that big, dreamy grin. “There,” the kid says haughty. “See? Get your own present, Drake.”

“Oh,” Dick says with a snort, “I think he just has.”

The last box in the stack, when all is said and opened and done, is for Bruce from Clark. It’s small. Doesn’t weigh anything. The boys all crowd around the back of the couch and even Alfred tips forward, peering eagerly around his tea. Only Clark, still seated at Bruce’s feet, doesn’t watch.

He tears at the paper carefully, working his way from end to end, and then unwraps it with a turn of his wrist. It’s a smooth black box with a lid that flips up; there’s something shiny inside.

“Is that supposed to be a bat?”

Bruce hears a whump behind his head. “Shut up, D,” Dick says. “Of course it is.”

It’s heavier than it looks, delicate, and the metal isn’t one that Bruce knows. It’s warm and strong, this charm, cut indeed into the sign of a bat.

“It’s Kryptonian metal,” Clark says, his cheek pressed now to Bruce’s knee. “I’m not sure what the name of it is, exactly, but it’s what the ship that brought me here was made of. The one my parents built. This is, uh--I cut this from that.”

A ripple goes through the room.

“You made this?” Bruce says. He traces the tiny points of the wings, the sharp rise of the ears.

“Yeah. That’s why it’s a little off. I couldn’t get the proportions quite right.”

There’s something in Bruce’s throat, a catch, a sweet little scratch. He swallows around it, makes himself speak. “Clark, it’s beautiful.”

Those bright eyes find his. “Really? You like it?”

“Ugh,” Bruce says, and then he’s leaning down, pitching forward, kissing Superman in front of his family, the open windows, the world. “I love it.”

“I thought you could wear it under your suit, if you wanted. There’s a chain in there, too.”

Bruce squeezes the back of Clark’s neck, gentle and fierce. “Yes. I will. I’d love to. I love you.”

Clark makes a soft sound, sweet and unbearably hot. “Funny. I love you, too.”

They kiss again and grin and when they part, there’s one last second of silence, one last beat of something special in the air.

“Ok,” Damian says, definitive, “enough Christmas. Now can I play with my knives?”

“No,” Alfred says, patting his eyes with a handkerchief. “Not until at the very least we’ve picked up this mess.”

Later, when the house is quiet and the fire’s dampened, Clark draws the charm from the box and fastens the chain around Bruce’s bare neck, traces the place where the metal hangs heavy and solid at the edge of his heart.

“You look--” Clark says, his eyes hooded, his fingers dragging down Bruce’s ribs. “Oh, Maker, Bruce, you look like--”

Bruce reaches for him, pulls them together, skin to skin. “Like what?”

Clark groans in his ear. “You look like mine.”

He pushes in too soon, before Bruce is really ready, but that’s what Bruce wants right then; wants to feel how much Clark needs him, wants to feel his own body bend and open and stretch.

Normally they talk to each other, poke and laugh and occasionally curse, but on this night, there aren’t any words needed, nothing except flesh upon flesh.

Clark bites his neck and he pulls Clark’s hair. He claws at Clark’s ass and Clark fucks him in this rough, needy way that makes Bruce feel like he’s splintering, like the only thing holding him in one piece is Clark’s body and Clark’s mouth and Clark’s deep, inexplicable love.

He comes twice like that, at the mercy of Clark’s ferocity and the heady smell of his own spunk, the feel of it sealing their bodies together, fused by the heat of their skin, and it’s only when he whimpers that Clark lets go, lets himself go, rises up on the heels of his hands so they can stare at each other as Clark’s hips shift from piston to desperate and he comes in a rush, fills Bruce up relentless until there’s no room left and it spills down the hot sting of Bruce’s thighs.

“I almost made you a ring,” Clark pants while his hips are still jerking. “But this is better. This is so much better. Looking down and seeing it there while we fuck.”

Bruce smooths the strands from Clark’s face, the dark waves dampened with sweat. He feels like he’s floating, as if his body’s made from a cloud. “You like that, huh?”

A groan, another full-body shudder. “ Yes . Maker, yes. You have no idea.”

“Well,” Bruce says softly. He raises his head and licks at Clark’s lips. “I don’t know. I think you’ve just given me some.”

Somewhere in the long dark, he crawls out of bed and comes back with a small, wrapped box. Sets it at the center of Clark’s chest.

“What’s this?”

Bruce worms back under the covers. “What’s it look like?”

“But it’s not Christmas anymore. It’s the 26th.”

“You’re that much of a Christmas purist. Really?”

Clark laughs and sits up a little, tugs at the ribbon. “No, not really. I used to beg Ma to let me open presents on Christmas Eve. No dice. I had to wait until 8 am Christmas morning, after the chores were done. Ugh. It was awful. And I wasn’t allowed to use my powers to rush.”

“Tsk tsk,” Bruce says. His heart’s pounding in his chest; he knows Clark can hear it. “Poor baby.”

It’s hard watching Clark open it; harder still seeing him lift the lid from the box and stare at what’s inside.

“A key,” Clark says. “Hmm. Something tells me it’s not for the Batcave.”

“It’s for the front door. For, ah”--he clears his throat, grateful all at once for the dark--“I want you to feel at home here, Kal-El. Like you can come and go as you please.”

Clark is very still. Still and quiet. Neither of which are familiar Clark states.

“I know you can’t, obviously, leave Metropolis and come here. It doesn’t--that wouldn’t work, I know that, but I thought, when you are here, it’s ok if people know that you are. You’re part of the family, Clark; there’s no question about it. And I don’t see any reason to hide it.” He presses a kiss to Clark’s shoulder and leans his face in to hide. “That’s all.”

Clark takes a deep, deep breath and turns his head. “Oh, baby,” he murmurs. “Come here.”

He clutches the key in one hand and Bruce’s face with the other and kisses him until they’re both gasping; pulls Bruce on top of him and kisses him more.

“I love you,” Clark says.

Bruce’s smile is a mile wide. “You do, huh?”

“Hmmm.” Clark’s fingers find the bat, push it gently into Bruce’s skin. “You’re still not sure about that?”

“I mean, I’m pretty sure. Fairly convinced.” Bruce shifts his hips, shivers when their cocks brush. “But you know how it is. There’s always that slim bit of room left for doubt.”

“Are you goading me?” Clark’s hand opens and finds the curve of Bruce’s ass, lets him feel the catch of the key's teeth. “Is this you goading me, Mr. Wayne?”

“Maybe. Mmmm, is it working?”

“I don’t know yet.” A kiss on his chin, another on the edge of his mouth. “Keep going and let’s find out.”

*****

Christmas passes for another year, then. Alfred and the boys wrestle down the tree. The holiday china Bruce’s mother bought a lifetime ago goes back in the cabinet, clean and carefully put away. Batman goes on fighting crime and so does Superman, each in his own city. But there are, in the new year, more and more occasions when Clark makes use of that key; when Bruce comes home from a board meeting or a swing through the city and finds Clark in the kitchen helping Damian with his homework, or in the library with a pot of tea and a big, absorbing book, or in Bruce’s bedroom waiting to drag him into the shower, to rub sweet-smelling soap into his skin and kiss his bruises, one by one, his fingers never far from the little bat that hangs from Bruce’s neck.

“I love you,” Bruce says, at the dinner table, in the practice room, in the warm confines of their bed.

“Funny,” Clark will will murmur, tugging him in for a kiss wherever, whenever, “I love you, too.”

#bruce wayne/clark kent #superbat #chrismas #bat family

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