Dark Love- A Batman Love Story

13

If looks could kill, both Bruce and Clay would be dead a million times over. Every morning would be the same: wake up, go eat, staredown between the boys over the kitchen table, and go do whatever was planned for that day. Alfred was getting confused to why those two were glaring daggers at eachother 24/7.
Bruce hadn't tried anything else on me, so Clay was slowly backing off. Instead he spent more time on the road looking for a job.
Even with Clay out frequently, it was getting hard to hide Batman and Dragonclaw from him. He didn't know Bruce well, but he could tell that my strenght, body, reflexes- everything- were higher and better than normal. He became suspicious when we weren't there every night, and stalked around the house, looking in every nook and cranny for secrets. Clay had evn asked me one day,
"Hey Alo, where do you go every night with Bruce?" And I froze like I wasn't supposed to.
"Umm, places." My voice faltered and Clay could obviously tell that something was wrong.
"What places? The mall? Dinner? Bars?" And... that's when he got overprotective again. "CLUBS? ARE YOU GETTING DRUNK EVERY NIGHT?!"
"No. No! Clay, calm down! Nothing like that. We just go around the city." I said, sticking my arms out innocently.
"Fine." And he stomped off. Then he whispered, barely audibly, "I will find out what those two are up to."
I sighed.
Good thing he didn't play the piano.

A month later Clay snapped.
First thing, everyone is watching late-night football on the jumbo plasma T.V., then Bruce is dragged into an empty room, locked inside, and then there's loud arguing. I didn't interfere, just sat there watching Gotham beat up Metropolis for the hundreth time in the season, like if all was normal.
Half an hour later and they're still yelling at each other. I started to worry.
Bruce could get out on his own easily, Clay isn't that strong. Compared to Bruce he's a fly in a hurricane.
Compared to Batman he's a fly in a supernova, but Batman still rested in the Batcave.
So why was he still in there?
After about an hour Bruce walked out with a smirk. Clay followed closly behind with a shocked look and headed towards his room.
Bruce pulled me off the sofa.
"Let's go to sleep." He said.
"Ok."
"Goodnight Master Bruce, Master Alo, Master Clay. Hope you enjoyed the game." Alfred shouted from the kitchen.
"Yeah, um... goodnight." Clay stumbled on his words while Bruce seemed comfident,
"Goodnight Alfred."
"Night." I added, nodding my head. Bruse and I headed up the long flight of stairs to the room.
The second Bruce had a foot through the doorway I closed the thick door behind us and locked it instantly.
"What was all that about?" I asked, semi-angry.
"Stuff- and don't sleep on it. I won't tell you." Bruce turned off the light. "Trick of the trade, honey."
"Fine then. I'll make you talk." I threatened. Bruce leaned against the wall, cocking his head in challenge, smirking, obviously thinking I could never get him to crack. Well Bruce, challenge accepted. I knew how to make him talk. Simple, he was a playboy.
And if there's one thing a playboy likes, it's a girl's body.

Mr. Playboy was tense at first, when I pulled a pair of scissors from a drawer and slowly walked towards him. Like if I was going to torture him with them. Nope Bruce. You're getting worse.
When I got up to him, I smashed him into the wall and kissed him hard. He slowly relaxed and kissed me back.
After a few minutes of this I turned him around and led him towards the bed, without breaking the kiss. At the edge I forcefully pushed him on so he was laying down with his legs bended over the edge.
"What are you doing, Alo?"
I got on top of him, sitting on his stomach, and brought the twin blades up to his neck. He tensed up again, heart beating faster underneath his broad chest. He was vulnerable to anything I did and he knew it.
Slowly, I cut the collar of his shirt, snipped down until it reached his abs, and teared the rest in half myself. The scissors landed with a clink on the dark wooden floor.
I could clearly see his torso and face: a thick, broad chest heaving, muscular abs, built-up arms, to total a hot body laying beneath my mercy.
His face had something off about it, though. He was still handsome, but his eyes were shining again.
Now I knew what it was. The same eyes from long ago. Still sparkling with... lust.
But enough studying his features. It was time to get Bruce Wayne, Batman, cool and collected box of secrets, to spill.
I used the technique he showed me, kissing him then slowly trailing down his throat. I added my own touch, running my hands down his chest, softly kissing his stomach, gently biting his lips and neck. Bruce moaned, a sound telling me he wanted more. An advantage.
I leaned towards his ear.
"Do you want it, Brucie?" I whispered in the most seductive voice I could muster, which seemed to do the trick since his body temperature rose five thousand degrees. I trailed kisses on his jaw to add to his desire, rubbing his abs.
Still, he resisted. He moaned multiple times, but didn't answer.
I decided to take this a few steps further.
For the sake of answers.
So I did the forbidden and slowly slipped my hand into his boxers, massaging his left hip, inches away from his crotch.
Bruce slightly shuddered and gasped.
"Come on Brucie. You can have me." I whispered again, biting his ear. "You just need to answer some questions first. Ok?"
Bruce went into a mini muscle spasm when I shifted my hand from hip to the inside of his thigh, softly moving my fingers to tickle his leg.
"Ok. Fine." He grunted, closing his eyes in pleasure while I slipped my hand out and took off my tank.
"Good. Question one: Why didn't you break out?"
"It was fine in there." Bruce answered roboticaly. "No danger."
"Okay. You're getting closer. Now, question two:" I slipped off my shorts, sitting on top of him in just underwear. "why so loud? Couldn't you whisper?"
"We were worried you or Alfred might think we killed each other. But it seems you still didn't understand us." He chuckled slightly, but shut up when I slid backwards, my womanhood right over his crotch.
"How thoughtful. Now, last question. Answer this completely and you'll get a surprise: what exactly did you argue about."
Bruce hesitated.
I was getting impatient.
Well Bruce. You want it, you get it.
I teased him, kissing from his belly button to right over his boxers.
Then I pulled the cloth down a little.
Bruce heated up again. It must have been a while for him to act like that. Maybe a year or two. Girls don't exactly like to hook up with supposedly dead people.
Well, here's how to make Bruce snap: trick him through lust.
So I looked at his face, stood up, and pulled down his boxers completely, forcing myself not to look down.
It's hard to fight hormones when you're a nineteen-year-old virgin.
But I needed answers, to know how much was at stake, in how much danger I put Bruce and Alfred in by begging them to let Clay stay.
If my brother knew about the late-night hobby, he would tell the authorities. And there were more Bat-haters than Bat-lovers in that group of donut-eating cops.
Even if Gordon was to order them. Thousands of felonies were listed in the archives under The Batman. Enough to override anything the commissioner said.
I was putting the Wayne's reputation, life, and work on death-role.
Bruce gave in.
"He, he asked me where we went each night. I told him we help the cops with crimes and investigations. Then he asked me how I met you."
"And you told him about, him?" Finally we were getting somewhere. Bruce continued roughly, "Kinda. Told him that Batman was a close friend and brought you here after saving your life. We fell in love and here we are. I haven't touched you, suggested, nothing. We're taking this slow. And he shut up after that."
I sighed in relief.
Nothing important had been spilt. Clay was reassured that Bruce wasn't dangerous, and he hadn't lied either. Everything he told Clay was an akward version of the truth, in a way.
And to finish Bruce's surprise-torture, I pulled up his boxers and pulled my clothes back on.
By the time I turned on the light, Bruce was looking hurt- more like dissapointed.
"But-"
"Trick of the trade, honey." I said, putting up the scissors and pulling the rest of his torn shirt off his sweaty body.
"That was my comfy shirt." He whined, pulling me in for a kiss.
"You can afford the whole factory Bruce." I said, breaking the kiss.
"I'll admit you had me convinced a bit there. Torture, I tell you."
"And I didn't heat up a bit, so hah."
"Rude bitch."
"Excuse me?"
"Nothing."
"Thought so. Now go to bed, you wanted to go to sleep, not me."
"That was before-"
"BRUCE." I snapped. "I'm being nice, ok? I just figuered out that your life isn't at stake here, so just go to sleep. Please."
Bruce seemed confused, then awed for a moment. After a while he jumped into the new mattress and pulled the covers over him.
"Fine." He grunted from under the blankets.
I turned off the lights and slipped under the warm covers. Bruce rolled over and hugged me, sending tingling sensations all over my body. I turned around and curled into him. He pressed a kiss against my forehead.
Well, at least he wasn't angry.
"Rude bastard."
Bruce chuckled, the sound vibrating through my body and sending me to sleep.

"Where's Clay?" I asked Alfred in the morning as I mixed myself a Cappuccino. Bruce was still in only his boxers, drinking coffee at the table. Alfred sizzled some bacon in a pan.
"He went to check out his splendid new job."
Alfred's words sent me over the table in a fit of laughter. "Clay? Job? 'Splendid' joke Alfred." I chuckled.
"Do you not have faith in your brother's skills, Master Alo?"
"It's not that" I admitted. "He never had faith in himself that he would be accepted.
"That guy can't even get someone killed right." Bruce grunted, slightly interested. Alfred raised an eyebrow in question, but ignored the little remark.
"Well, I think it would interest you to know what job Master Clay has acquired."
Bruce put his mug down, listening completely, "What is it. Donut shop?"
"Almost. He's been hired as a night-time police officer."
This time, nobody laughed.