dceu_kinkmeme | DCEU Prompt Post #1

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DCEU Prompt Post #1

Welcome to Round One of the DCEU Kink Meme!

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The important rules in short:

Post anonymously.
Negative comments on other people's prompts (kink-shaming, pairing-bashing etc.) and personal attacks of any kind will not be tolerated.
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Prompt, write, draw, comment, and most importantly have fun! Please link to your fills on the fill post.

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We now have a non-DCEU prompt post for any prompts in other 'verses (comics, animated series, other movies or TV shows etc.).

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hope u like dialogue ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Dinner is waiting from them when they're done, a casserole dish of beef bourguignon kept warm in the oven. Bruce serves it up over instant mashed potatoes, which makes Clark feel a little better about asking for ketchup. The look on Bruce's face is entertaining enough.

He sits at the glass-topped table in the corner of the living room, carefully moving aside Bruce's laptop and tablet and a pile of miscellaneous corporate reports. Bruce opts to hold his plate in one hand and pace about, as though sitting down to eat with Clark would constitute some kind of social contract that he is cautious about to signing off on.

"I read the paper today," Clark says, once they are done with the food and the scrape of cutlery isn't there to cover the silence any more.

Bruce makes a disinterested noise, leaning over Clark's shoulder to pick up his dish. He disappears to make a racket in the kitchen, rattling the dishwasher as he loads it with the plates. The dishwasher. Of course--the place is kitted out, it's only Clark who would wash up by hand. He's only glad Alfred seemed to find it charming and not foolish.

There's the soft vacuum-suck of the refrigerator opening, and a long pause.

"You really need to be liked," Bruce says, just loud enough for Clark to hear. "Don't you."

Clark says nothing. When Bruce reappears, he's got a bottle of wine and glasses--two, again--and a wedge of chocolate cake. He sets the lot of it on the coffee table. "Come over here," he says. There's nothing in his voice; no admonition but no pleasure either, just a carefully manicured neutrality.

Clark chooses to sit a safe arm's length away.

The wine isn't of an eye-watering vintage this time--it's from this decade, even. If Clark didn't know better he'd say it was a deliberate choice. He watches Bruce pour it, and continues to watch him as he frowns at the cake, nudging the base of his glass with his fingertips, aligning it to some invisible metric.

"Clark," Bruce says finally, and picks up his glass. He takes a long draw and sets it back haphazardly. "What is it you expect from me?"

"What do you mean?"

You know what I mean, Bruce's expression says.

"It's just cake, Bruce. Don't overthink it."

"Why, though?"

"Like I said, I read the paper. Alfred told me the rest. Correct me if I'm wrong, but you don't strike me as the kinda guy who does anything nice for himself, despite all this--" Clark sweeps his hand, encompassing Bruce's wealth, the extravagant facade, "--even when things are sucky. So I thought I would. That's it, that's my motive."

Clark is taken unawares when Bruce breaks into a grin, wide enough to touch his eyes. He's still staring at the damn cake like it's a booby-trap, but something's eased in his posture, some subtle shift in his guard that seems to change everything about him. "You are something else, Clark Kent," he says.

"So I've been told," Clark says dryly.

Bruce slides the plate toward him with one finger. "You know, it's hard to reconcile the idea I had of you," he says, "the concept, the abstract--"

"The threat."

"--the threat," Bruce says a little tightly. "With who you actually are. I thought I had a handle on it, visiting your mother, being privy to your life that way, but that's got nothing on actually being around you. You are unbearably kind, Clark. I distance myself and you crack jokes. I give you my bed and you take the couch. I tried to kill you, once. And you bring me cake."

"You said you were sorry," Clark says with a small smile.

Bruce exhales, rubs at an eyebrow with his thumb. "You're going to be trouble."

"That's the last thing I want to be."

"And that's the problem," Bruce says, slicing into the cake with the edge of his fork. "What happens when you want to please the wrong person?"

"Are you the wrong person?"

The forkful of cake hovers near Bruce's mouth. "That's not what I said."

"It was implied."

Bruce takes the mouthful, gestures with the fork. "No. You inferred it, and incorrectly."

"So, you're the right person. I should listen to you."

"Also the wrong inference."

"But not one you'd be unhappy with."

That startles a laugh out of him. He puts the fork down. "Trouble."

"So I've been told," Clark says again.

Bruce finally turns and looks at him. There's a light in his eyes, the one Clark sees when they're down in the cave, when he's more Batman than Wayne--or whoever he is when he's caught between the extremes.

"You value loyalty," Clark says. "That's why the leak hit you so hard."

"Loyalty is earned, not bought." Bruce picks up his fork again, takes another mouthful. "He was with me for nearly twelve years. I misstepped somewhere."

"Loyalty can't be bought," Clark says, "But a facsimile can. Someone just outbid you."

"Evidently."

"That's not your failing, Bruce."

"Are you my voice of reason now?"

"Sounds like someone has to be."

Bruce laughs again; a low, velvety sound. Clark thinks he could get used to it. They lapse into silence for a while.

"Is the cake good?" Clark asks.

"It's my favorite." There's half left. Bruce balances the fork on the rim of the plate and offers it to Clark.

"Oh, no. Thank you."

"Too many carbs," Bruce says.

"Like you're not running on a permanent caloric deficit. Just eat it."

"That would make you happy, wouldn't it," Bruce says, combative but for the way the fork is already halfway to his mouth. His eyes are closed in anticipation. Clark resists the urge to lick his lips.

"Humor me."

"So much trouble," Bruce says. "At least try the wine this time."

"Are you trying to get me drunk, Mister Wayne?" Clark asks. He's feeling buoyant.

Bruce raises an eyebrow. "I'd hope it would take more than one glass, Mister Kent."

Alcohol has no effect on him when he's at full strength, and that he hasn't tried it in current state. Bruce evidently figures it out just as he's about to explain, because he takes the glass and drinks it himself.

*

It becomes routine: an early-morning start, ukemi and kata to warm up, and then Bruce brings new techniques into play. Sometimes it's more karate; advanced techniques that fold into the routines he already knows. Sometimes it's judo; grappling and pins that involve such physicality that Clark regularly has had to call a timeout, just to catch his breath. On occasion, it's tai chi.

"Really?" Clark asks, drawing his arm over his head in a long arc. "Isn't this for old people?"

"It's useful. Focuses the mind. It's basically meditation," Bruce replies. "Everything I teach you is useful."

"How many martial arts do you know, anyway?"

"A hundred twenty-seven."

Clark laughs. They he stops laughing, because it's inevitably true. "And you were trained by ninjas, right?" he says, half-joking.

"If that's what you want to call it," Bruce says, matter of fact. "Watch your form. You've overextended."

*

It's been fifteen days and Bruce finally throws the first punch.

Clark turns and catches it on the side of his ribcage. It smarts but not too badly; Bruce is wearing padded gloves and had telegraphed his intent. That's not to say it isn't a shock, but he brings his guard up immediately in an inculcated response.

He blocks the second strike with his forearm, the impact jarring in his bones. Bruce doesn't look pleased nor displeased, just focused. Clark hisses out a quick breath; he has no gloves and is cautious about taking the offensive. He tries to weave out of Bruce's range or block when he can't.

Bruce keeps coming at him with fast jabs, quick enough that it's almost impossible to catch them all and after a while Clark is starting to feel tender. He will be bruised tomorrow--the novelty of that has yet to wear off, despite the pain.

(He stands in front of the mirror each evening and traces the blooming yellow-purple across his ribs, over his arms; the marks Bruce has left on him. It's humbling.)

Eventually he anticipates a weakness in Bruce's guard--artificial, left there for Clark to find--and he shoulders in, sweeps Bruce's legs out from under him, somersaults him over onto the mat.

He drops down immediately, pins him bodily as he's been taught, one arm around the back of Bruce's neck, the other restraining his wrist.

"Well done," Bruce says in his ear. His free hand grips the back of Clark's neck. Clark feels his muscles tense and knows he could throw him off without any trouble at all, but he doesn't right away. "Tighten your grip next time."

Then he rolls them, slams Clark's back into the mat, spreads over him while Clark gasps helplessly.

*

Is today Christmas? So many fic updates. :D This image is so perfect: Bruce opts to hold his plate in one hand and pace about, as though sitting down to eat with Clark would constitute some kind of social contract that he is cautious about to signing off on.
God forbid you relax for five minutes, Bruce, we can't have that. And wow, Bruce's reaction to the cake. I love everything about this:
There's nothing in his voice; no admonition but no pleasure either, just a carefully manicured neutrality.

Clark chooses to sit a safe arm's length away.
No wonder Clark is a bit ... cautious. And Clark telling Bruce not to overthink it as if Bruce doesn't overthink fucking everything. :D Clark is just so fucking cute about this, noticing how Bruce doesn't really do nice things for himself (I think I'm going to have to prompt that in general because it's so very Bruce).

AND BRUCE GRINNING, OMFG, realising that Clark really just did something nice without expecting anything in return. <3

I tried to kill you, once. And you bring me cake."

"You said you were sorry," Clark says with a small smile.
SO FUCKING CUTE. By the way? I at least definitely love dialogue if this is the dialogue you're giving us. :DDDD Clark even make Bruce laugh, yay.

"Loyalty is earned, not bought." Bruce picks up his fork again, takes another mouthful. "He was with me for nearly twelve years. I misstepped somewhere."
Ouch, of course Bruce assumes everything is his fault, somehow.

Clark resists the urge to lick his lips.
DOES HE KNOW? I love the whole bit about Bruce trying to offer Clark half the cake and Clark talking him into finishing it. And their routine, and ~everything he teaches him is useful, and Bruce knowing a ridiculous numbre of martial arts (I'm competency kink anon, I'm grinning like an idiot about this ;D), THIS IS SO PERFECT. Also they lived together for two weeks now, okay, I am fine, just my face hurts from smiling. :D

(He stands in front of the mirror each evening and traces the blooming yellow-purple across his ribs, over his arms; the marks Bruce has left on him. It's humbling.)
And hot. ;D And I really need Bruce to retrace those marks to at some point. ;D

"Well done," Bruce says in his ear. His free hand grips the back of Clark's neck. Clark feels his muscles tense and knows he could throw him off without any trouble at all, but he doesn't right away. "Tighten your grip next time."

Then he rolls them, slams Clark's back into the mat, spreads over him while Clark gasps helplessly.
ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME? :D PRAISE KINK AND NECK PETTING OH NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO ER NECK GRABBING BUT STILL NECKS ARE MY ULTIMATE WEAKNESS. So hot. How is everyone on this kinkmeme so awesome? I love everyone and I am so very happy and you rock, anon author. :D

Hahaha, I hope the timeskip doesn't come back to bite me, but otherwise it was going to be a blow-by-blow account of every moment of their lives and... things need to move on a BIT quicker than that! XD

Poor Bruce. Ambushed by unexpected kindness. It can break a man, you know.

ALL THE PRAISE KINK. ALL THE NECK PETTING. ALL THE BRUUUUUISES <3

Oh, anon, I LOVE dialogue. :DDDDDDDDDDDDDD

I'm going to run out of superlatives soon, but I hope you'll never think that means I'm loving this any less! It just keeps being EVERY SINGLE THING I WANT so hard that I'm using up all the compliments I can think of. /o\

The cake, god, I was so looking forward to the payoff for that and HERE IT IS and it's GLORIOUS. I love love love all the analysis and the back-and-forth, and Clark DOING NICE THINGS FOR BRUCE BECAUSE HE WANTS TO and Bruce NOT BEING ABLE TO NOT ACCEPT THEM (possibly despite himself). And then FLIRTING, oh my god yay \o/

And it's becoming a routine, oh, my feelings, and the joking-not-joking of "a hundred twenty-seven", and then

Then he rolls them, slams Clark's back into the mat, spreads over him while Clark gasps helplessly

ULP <-- the sound of me accidentally swallowing my own tongue

He totally can't not accept the cake, not after he's so insistent about Clark taking his bed! That would make him a hypocrite ok O:)

Flirting, yeah. About that. *eyes next part suspiciously*

127 martial arts is totally canon. COMICS.

127 martial arts is totally canon. COMICS.

Which comic & issue is that from, nonnie? I want to read it.

I dunno if it's the focus of any one specific issue (and looking at the scans I've got, it's not as explicit as I thought...)

But this is from Batgirl #7 - http://i.imgur.com/a80kxOY.jpg
From some 101 type thing I think? - http://i.imgur.com/y67EgNt.jpg
Vaguely relevant: "From this vantage point I can incapacitate a person in four hundred and sixty three different ways without drawing blood" - http://i.imgur.com/l2if8zy.jpg

Bonus Clark being amazing - http://i.imgur.com/eczT3ks.jpg

I love the one with Clark talking about Bruce training him. It's so hot that their sparring sessions are totally canon. +1000 to you, nonnie, for your sexy story AND its amazing canon-compliant accuracy. :D

"You really need to be liked," Bruce says, just loud enough for Clark to hear. "Don't you."
OH MY GOD, NONNIE, when the payoff to this came I grinned SO HARD, Clark wanting to do someghing nice for Bruce because he just knows he must be hurting from the leak, and Bruce being all resistant and then grinning -- my heart, my heart!!!!

He stands in front of the mirror each evening and traces the blooming yellow-purple across his ribs, over his arms; the marks Bruce has left on him. It's humbling.
:))))))))))))))))) <- a self-portrait as I read this line. Okay I have ~~~~issues surrounding this kind of thing, it's one of my bullet-proof kinks, thank you so much for putting this line in.

And then touching on the back of the neck, and then Clark gasping helplessly, and nonnie, I actually have to go out into the day and DO THINGS and all I want to do it sit here and grin like an idiot about this fic. Thank you so, so much, this is awesome. I can't tell you how much I'm enjoying it :DDDDD

Clark's cracked him :D He just has to be his unadulterated self. What a babe.

I'm so glad you're enjoying it, I am having a Good Time too :DDD <3

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DCEU Prompt Post #1

Fill: Whoever Falls First -- Bruce/Clark, sparring (6/?)

Re: Fill: Whoever Falls First -- Bruce/Clark, sparring (6/?)

Re: Fill: Whoever Falls First -- Bruce/Clark, sparring (6/?)

Re: Fill: Whoever Falls First -- Bruce/Clark, sparring (6/?)

Re: Fill: Whoever Falls First -- Bruce/Clark, sparring (6/?)

Re: Fill: Whoever Falls First -- Bruce/Clark, sparring (6/?)

Re: Fill: Whoever Falls First -- Bruce/Clark, sparring (6/?)

Re: Fill: Whoever Falls First -- Bruce/Clark, sparring (6/?)

Re: Fill: Whoever Falls First -- Bruce/Clark, sparring (6/?)

Re: Fill: Whoever Falls First -- Bruce/Clark, sparring (6/?)