Summary: Clark sups at the royal banquet, Gotham-style.
Date Of Completion: February 7, 2010
Date Of Posting: February 9, 2010
Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, DC does, more’s the pity.
Word Count: 1325
Feedback welcome and appreciated.
Author’s Note: Happy Birthday, northern_star! :) She requested Clark/Bruce/Dick. Prompt: Caviar.
At the royal
Sweet is the
"The Sumptuous Feast"
The buffet table was a sumptuous feast: fresh vegetables of every hue and variety, fruits domestic and exotic, and choice meats. There were artichokes, watercress, radish roses, snow peas, apple slices, pineapple slices, kiwi, mangoes, and grapes. The meats were turkey, chicken and roast beef, and there was salmon, lobster, shrimp, and caviar for seafood.
The desserts were works of art: Black Forest chocolate cake, strawberry cream pie, Key Lime pie, ginger cupcakes with vanilla frosting and multi-colored sprinkles, cookies of every shape, size, and flavor, Godiva chocolates and an airy confection that looked like a cake from heaven.
But then, nothing less was expected from the Gotham Arms Hotel.
Gotham’s glitterati glided around the ballroom, chattering and tittering and drinking the French and California champagnes and wines. As the creme de la creme of Gotham society, they had images to uphold and gossip to spread. The gold drapes were tied back with gold sashes, framing the starlit night. An orchestra played on the dais at the far end of the room.
A stir went through the ballroom as their Prince arrived. Under the light of the crystal chandeliers, Bruce Wayne looked magnificent in his tuxedo. He was regal, surveying his kingdom with the detachment of royalty, a small smile appearing on his face.
The Crown Prince was with him tonight. While Bruce was the cool patrician, Dick Grayson was more apt to smile genuinely. Everyone knew about his plebian background (a circus brat, of all things!), but one had to make nice with the heir of the Wayne Empire. Besides, he was gorgeous: graceful, elegant, and charming. Not too shabby for a boy one step up from a carny.
They immediately began to work the room, mothers pushing their debutante daughters toward Dick and going after Bruce themselves. Men tried to get close for a business deal or just to bask in reflected glory, a few with their own romantic hopes. Laughter rolled around the room as Bruce and Dick dropped witticisms upon the adoring masses.
Clark Kent watched everything with the eyes of a star reporter behind his horn-rimmed glasses. He was enjoying a plate of lobster, shrimp, pineapple, and mangoes, and drinking a glass of champagne.
Dick managed to break away, Bruce the center of attention. He sparkled as he came up to Clark behind a large potted fern.
“I see the Prince is holding court,” Clark said, taking a juicy bite of lobster.
“’Weary is the head that wears the crown’.”
Clark snorted. “Tell me, does he use monogrammed sheets and pillowcases?”
”Hey, you don’t need me to tell you.”
Clark merely smiled at the younger man’s insouciance. Grinning brightly, Dick sidled up to him and gave him a kiss.
“You like taking chances,” Clark murmured.
“Always prefer flying without a net.”
Clark speared a shrimp and fed it to Dick, whose blue eyes sparkled as he ate, his body canting forward, almost twining around Clark.
“You look really nice tonight.” Dick’s voice was almost purring. “That tux fits just…right.”
“Thank you, Mr. Fashion Plate.”
Dick grinned. His sartorial sense was a running joke. He preferred gaudy glitter to Brooks Brothers.
“So are you taking Cat Grant’s place?”
Clark laughed. “Pretty much! Perry likes the interviews I get with Bruce.” He smiled. “And you.”
Clark coughed and Dick pounded him on the back.
“Okay there, Clark?”
The Kryptonian glared at him while Dick laughed. “See you later,” he winked.
Clark watched the beautiful young man walk away. It was always a treat.
Yep, best ass in the superhero community, no question.
He finished his meal and wandered over to the buffet table to check out the desserts. He was trying to decide between the Black Forest chocolate cake and the strawberry pie when a familiar voice said, “An embarrassment of riches.”
“I’m not embarrassed,” Clark said glibly.
Bruce arched an eyebrow. Clark ignored the haughty Prince and decided on the strawberry pie.
A finger tapped on his shoulder sharply.
Annoyance was on Bruce’s face. “You’re more interested in pie then me?”
“Well, the pie’s sweeter.”
Bruce huffed and brushed by Clark. “Peasant.”
Clark smiled as Bruce swept down to the other end of the table.
Clark was the first to arrive in the master suite. A magnum of champagne was chilling in a silver bucket, and caviar was arranged on plates around the bucket.
The sitting room was spacious and elegant as befit The Gotham Arms. There was a pink satin loveseat and deep-blue armchairs around a Danish modern coffee table. The champagne and caviar were set on a small dining table.
Clark wandered over to the large windows framed by indigo drapes, tied back by gold sashes.
Stars glittered in the night sky as the Gotham skyline came to life. Never as bright as Metropolis, the city had an old-fashioned solidity that befit its signature superhero, Batman.
And where did Robin fit in? His sparkle and light was better suited to Metropolis.
The door opened and laughter spilled in, Dick’s eyes sparkling as he brushed shoulders with Bruce.
Dick’s right where he belongs.
Dick pulled Bruce into the room. “Kathy and Barbara have patrol covered tonight.” He untied Bruce’s pale blue silk tie. “Relax.”
Clark snorted. “You do know who you’re talking to, right?”
Dick laughed. He took the tie and knotted it around his head, heading over to the table.
“Caviar, hmm. Never was a big fan of fish eggs. Now, lobster, on the other hand…”
“Are you taking your crown off, Prince?” Clark asked.
Bruce smirked. “Why don’t you take it off me, peasant?”
Clark matched his lover’s smirk. “You royal pretty boys are all alike. You need a good, strong dose of country.”
He grasped Bruce’s hand while Dick beckoned them to the table. “Caviar, Your Highness.” Dick held out a bite.
“Mmm, food of the Gods,” Bruce said as he ate the caviar.
“There any apple pie on that table, Dick?” Clark asked.
Dick laughed. “Sorry, Clark.”
“C’mon, Prince, stop noshing on caviar and let’s take a roll in the hay.”
“More like in the silk,” Bruce drawled.
“Do you always have to have the last word?”
Clark threw Bruce on the bed and Dick leaped on top of him.
Mouths met and hands roamed over silken skin, supple limbs bending and flexing as heads were thrown back, thrusts made deep in pliant flesh as backs arched and teeth nibbled, soft sucking sounds mingling with cries of delight.
Pleasure rippled and two pairs of strong hands lifted up an acrobatic body, settling it between them as the graceful back arched, lips touching steely hardness while succulent flesh was spread and a rigid column slipped inside, filling up spaces that burned and stretched and when the cool burn of seed spilled, it marked with love.
Clark smiled. He’d ended up in the middle of this nice, luxurious king-size bed, Bruce and Dick curled up around him as he hugged them close.
Bruce was solid against him, broader in the chest and shoulders than Dick, his solidity like the soil of Wayne Manor, roots as deep as Clark’s own on the farm.
Dick was well-muscled but lighter, as light as air, his companion of the air, fearless as they dove and spiraled, shrieks of laughter echoing through the skies as Dick would smile as the clouds’ moisture sprinkled his skin.
They were truly royalty, and Clark happily worshipped at their feet. Both were crowned heads that bore the weight of those heavy crowns of responsibility with grace and dignity.
And, able to romp in silk.
Clark kissed each one before he drifted off to sleep with a smile on his face.