Title: Red Silk And Black Leather (1/2)
Pairings/Characters (this chapter): Clark/Bruce
Continuity: Batman Begins/Smallville
Genres: Challenge, Drama
Rating (this chapter): PG-13
Claim: For the dcu_freeforall Challenge (Clark/Bruce)
Prompt: T 5; P 2: Red Kryptonite
Prompt Count: (7/15)
Spoilers: Inspired by the Smallville episodes Exodus and Exile and, of course, Batman Begins. :)
General Summary: Bruce is avoiding Gotham and what awaits him there, so he visits Metropolis instead.
Chapter Summary: Bruce wants companionship for the night.
Date Of Completion: June 29, 2009
Date Of Posting: July 17, 2009
Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, DC does, more’s the pity.
Word Count: 1262
Feedback welcome and appreciated.
All chapters can be found here.
The gorgeous cover is by ctbn60. Thanks, luv! :)
Bruce shivered a little as a breeze ruffled his dark hair. He glanced up at the gleaming skyscrapers and the clear blue sky as the light grew more mellow and the shadows lengthened in late afternoon.
He wandered aimlessly through downtown. Metropolis was certainly different from Gotham. There were old buildings in the city, but it seemed to be a city of glass-and-steel instead of gargoyles and brick.
It was a bright and shining city.
Bruce felt a little uncomfortable.
He sighed as he walked, hands in his jeans pockets. He wanted to spend time in this city before going back to Wayne Manor and telling Alfred he’d been kicked out of Princeton…and attending Joe Chill’s parole hearing next week.
People flowed past him, eager to start their weekend as Friday night came close, the bars and clubs just starting to fill up.
Bruce decided that he felt like going to a bar. Dressed in his jeans and a dark-blue cotton shirt he’d bought off the rack, he hoped that he could fly under the radar and no one would recognize him as the Prince of Gotham.
He knew what district he wanted to visit. A quick check on the Internet had yielded a strip of clubs and bars that catered to gays, and tonight he wanted male company.
A small smile appeared on his face as he walked leisurely toward Kennedy Street, the Metropolis equivalent of San Francisco’s Castro Street. He was no virgin when it came to gay sex. Lex Luthor, old friend and classmate from Excelsior, had been his first and was a great partner in bed. Lex had been exiled to Smallville for the past few years but still managed to keep thing interesting if the papers were right.
And there was Ollie, pretty and blond and hedonistic. He’d lost his parents at a young age, just like Lex had lost his mother while still a boy.
They understood each other, the three of them.
But tonight, he just wanted an anonymous fuck. Didn’t even have to be pretty, just amenable.
He found himself on Kennedy Street, lines starting to form outside the fancier clubs, and bars beginning to look lively. He passed the lines, grinning at appreciative wolf whistles, tactfully waving off propositions. He didn’t want to spend the night in a loud, noisy club. A dark, quieter bar was what he wanted tonight.
A line of women waiting to get into a lesbian club grinned and waved, one woman shouting, “I’d turn for you, honey!” and Bruce grinned and winked.
The sky was streaked with yellow, orange and red as the sun set, dominated by one color as ruby light reflected off the tall glass skyscrapers close by. It promised a hot day tomorrow.
Well, he was looking for a hot night.
Further down the street, he found a small, dark, wooden building with no windows and smiled. Perfect. Laughing at the name, The Spotted Dick, he pushed in the door of the establishment.
The bar resembled an English pub with dark paneling and booths, a long, horizontal bar at one end, a dartboard and sepia-toned pictures of handsome young men in uniform or in rugged construction crew clothes, building railroads and logging redwoods on the walls.
Bruce ordered a beer from the bartender and glanced around the room. The Rolling Stones blared from the jukebox, and the clack of balls came from one of the pool tables in the corner.
Most of the men looked about thirty or older but that suited Bruce just fine. He had a thing for older men.
And that’s when he saw him.
In the corner, a man about twenty years old was sitting in a booth. He was wearing black leather pants and a crimson silk shirt open at the throat. Black boots were shiny and new.
A little surprised, noticing the other patrons dressed as casually as he was, Bruce approached the booth when he got his beer.
Dark, shaggy hair framed a face in shadow. When Bruce got closer, he nearly gasped.
The face of a god revealed itself, with gorgeous cheekbones, long lashes, incredible green eyes, and the mouth!
Bruce felt weak in the knees, tightening his fingers around his beer mug’s handle.
The kid looked at him, green eyes smoldering.
“This seat taken?”
The beauty waved a hand at the empty space and Bruce slid in.
Closer up, the guy was wearing kohl around the eyes, and he wasn’t sure if the full, pouty lips were rouged or not.
“Okay, I’ll come right out and say it. Why aren’t you in one of those glitzy clubs down the street?”
The kid laughed, a nice sound. “I have. I like this place, too.” He lifted his mug and a gold ring with a ruby winked in the muted lighting from a wall sconce.
Bruce watched the kid swallow.
“Hi, Clark.” He held out his hand. “Bruce.”
Clark took it, his hand warm. They shook, Bruce caressing the palm as he withdrew.
“So, you come here often?”
Clark looked at him incredulously, then laughed as he saw Bruce’s smirk.
“As often as I can.” His green eyes studied Bruce. “You new in town?”
“Yeah. I’m here for the weekend.”
“Lucky me.” Clark’s voice was as smoky as his gaze, and Bruce suddenly felt a booted foot rubbing against his calf.
The kid was a fast worker. His clothes and make-up screamed whore, but Bruce didn’t care. If he had to pay for his fuck tonight, so be it. He wanted that mouth on his cock, and more than once.
Bruce sipped his drink. The clack of pool balls gave him an idea.
Clark glanced over at the pool table.
Bruce rose and took his mug over to an empty pool table. He picked up a cue and turned to see Clark right behind him, his smile sultry.
Bruce took the triangular rack from the wall and racked up the balls. Clark was right beside him, both of them hitting the balls to bounce off gently from the far end of the green baize table.
“You break.” Bruce watched as Clark bent over the table, enjoying the luscious view.
A loud clack! of balls signaled their break.
Clack! Clack! Clack!
Three balls were knocked into pockets in quick succession, then the fourth narrowly missed a side pocket.
Bruce studied the angles as he walked around the table, his hip brushing against Clark’s. He bent over, smoothly hitting the ball that rolled into a corner pocket.
Bruce knocked in two more balls, then he missed. He straightened up with a grin.
Clark was watching him and he lifted his mug, Bruce watching his throat as he drank.
That’s one talented whore.
He liked the kid and would pay generously if that mouth delivered what it promised.
Clark put down the mug and shot.
Two games later, they were even with one win apiece.
“Looks like the deciding game.” Bruce chalked up his pool cue.
“Looks like.” Clark stood, legs wide apart, resting the pool cue between them as he applied the chalk on the tip.
“Maybe we can stay even.” Bruce’s mouth was suddenly dry.
“Fine by me.”
Clark smiled, his incredible green eyes glittering. He set his mug and the cue down and headed for the door.
Bruce watched as the black leather cleaved to Clark’s ass, and set down his mug and cue, too, and followed with a smirk on his face.