A follower on my tumblr, matan4il gave me a prompt -
Would Brucedick, NSFW and the prompt "How long have we been down?" be too obvious of a response?
I had to look it up and now I'm either addressing the prompt or not IDK?
It takes all of Dick's energy not to scream.
The sounds coming from the door in front of him, left slightly ajar, causes butterflies in his chest, fluttering in painful rhythms of deep breaths and moans. The sounds echo and permiate in the dark hallway, where Dick is trying his best not to burst in and interrupt the lover's tryst happening in the office.
"Bruce..." Dick says in betrayed fervor, the same time a husky voice says Bruce and keeps on moaning.
It makes him feel sick in his stomach, in a similar fashion Bruce's rare, illusive smirks makes him want to hurl, but for a completely different reason.
He didn't mean to spy. In fact, all he wanted was to talk to his mentor about attractions and feelings and things he's finally hit now that he's a freshman in high school. To confide in the one person who could, logically, tell him that his attraction is natural and okay to have.
So after hours of tossing and turning on his bed, Dick had decided to talk to Bruce, knowing that the older man would still be working in his office. Trekking the dark, eerie halls of the mansion hadn't been troubling. Same with the random creaks of the house as it settled.
But the ill-muffled sounds make him feel so unsettled.
His feet take him closer to the office even though his stomach is dropping. Morbid curiosity eats at his conscience as he stands and stares into the office, through the sliver of view left by the open door.
There on the mahogany desk, splayed and in the throes of passion, is Selina Kyle in all her female beauty. Pale legs on one side of the table, slightly looped around strong, muscled hips. Both figures halfway naked and perfect.
Dick swallows down revulsion. Not because she is offensive, she's the most beautiful woman he knows, but because of the envy he feels through his whole being, all the way to the tips of his clenching hands.
Her shapely fingers clutch at midnight black hair, holding Bruce down on her chest as he sucks and nips at her breast.
His breath catches and his heart beat triples as his focus hones on Bruce's handsomely flushed face, following the sensual movements of his kissed red lips.
Her chest is a bigger mound of soft flesh, her curves and genitalia different, but Dick's mind still imagines himself in her position with destructive clarity.
Bruce's mouth closing on his neck, sucking and biting until it leaves a mark on Dick's body, just as the man's left a mark on his psyche.
Bruce's tongue caressing and tasting and feeling the wild rush of blood flooding through Dick's body with every pulse point he tortures with avid attention.
Bruce's big, callused hands touching him everywhere that makes him squirm and yearn for more.
Dick is so hard it's uncomfortable in his pants. Bruce's groans make him twitch and bite back a groan of his own. He wants to shift, switch which legs he rests on, anything to relieve the pressure while bringing rough friction into his fantasy.
A high keen breaks his concentration and he notices Bruce's hands moving down south, in the juncture of her thighs. Motions making her back arch and her lips grit in concentration. And his mind supplies everything.
Bruce's right hand leisurely stroking him, palms wrapped around his dick like cage of inescapable heat that shifts up and down perfectly synced with his hitching breath. Large fingers, larger than his own, form bumps around his shaft, bumping into sensitive veins with each repeating move.
Up and down, up and down, up and over the delicate flare of his cockhead. It's a painful pleasure that makes his eyes cross to have those rough hands, those callused fingertips rubbing against his sensitive tip, teasing with his thumb in a circular motion with each slow pass.
Dick writhes and writhes as precome beads on the tip and Bruce smears it on him with each torturous up and down, making everything feel slicker.
"Oh Bruce," Dick whispers in the darkness, the quietest he could do while he wants nothing but to scream it.
Bruce's hand quickens, slightly squeezing as it jacks him faster and faster into the edge. Dick shuts his eyes and listens to the liquid noises of Bruce's efforts and Bruce's gruff voice.
"So beautiful," The man's voice floats to him, so deep and rough it sounds almost like the voice in the mask, full of dark aggression and possessiveness, curling around him in an almost oppressive weight that makes Dick burn hotter.
They are all moaning in anticipation, two loudly aroused moving against each other and one furtively visualizing.
"Come for me," Bruce positions closer, lips rolling over the dips and valleys of his collar bone and then his neck. The larger man pants against Dick's sweat slippery skin, warm breath ghosting and raising the hairs on his nape.
And Dick's vision goes, embarrassingly, white and he's burning hot all over with shame and frustration and afterglow, thankful that he still stood far enough outside to be unnoticed.
Heart thundering in chest, Dick takes one last glance at the shuddering mass of passion out of breath on the unsuspecting desk. He needs just a moment to memorize the slope of Bruce's back in the throes of passion, vulnerable in lust and satiation.
Mortification floods him as he backpedals away from the door, away from the green eyes stare him down with knowledge and teasing as a lithe arm wraps around Bruce's back and lips raise in challenge.