To Kiss a God

Chapter Eight: Dangerous Smiles

Clark looked even more dashing in proximity. Like a model straight off the shoot, as if he had wandered into the ballroom and just happened to find himself at the bar. His black rimmed glasses and tight jacket only added to the outsider feel, it set him apart from the ostentatiously wealthy men and scantily clad women that flowed around him.
The bar was horrifically packed, but only Clark and a tall, well dressed brunette man standing perilously close to him stood out.
The stranger was smiling broadly at Clark and Bruce forced himself to lean against a pillar, watching the pair.
The stranger was handsome in a casual way, medium brown hair and a pleasing but forgettable face. Nothing compared to you, a small petty part of his mind supplied. The man said something and Clark laughed, a smile lighting up his features. The brunette preceded to lean closer, running his hand up and down Clark's upper arm. Clark took a sip from his drink, a blush highlighting his cheeks, but didn't move away.

Red hot jealousy burned in his gut. Jealousy that he wasn't the one making Clark blush, that he was instead, standing across the room watching as another person was putting their hands over someone that belonged to him.

He took a deep breath. Clark didn't belong to him, as much as he hated to admit that to himself.

The brunette whispered something in Clark's ear, their bodies touching at nearly every available contact point, shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip. Clark said something in response, pulling back slightly and shaking his head. He knew a rejection when he saw one. A cascading bundle of emotions flew through him, gone as quickly as they had appeared: smugness, triumph, and a possessive streak of lust that had his cock hard.

A smirk crossed his lips as the brunette's jaw clenched. He couldn't make out his exact expression but he could gander it wasn't a happy one.

He contemplated approaching now, watching as Clark had turned to talk to the women next to him; no doubt trying to soften the blow of rejection but the other man hadn't moved away.

The splintering noise of cracking glass screamed in the air, drawing everyone's attention. He glanced at the debacle, a drunk patron clearly having knocked down a waiter's tray. Champagne glasses littered everywhere, a fine distraction if there ever was any.
He turned back just in time to the stranger drop something in Clark's glass.

Scarlet swept through his vision.

Suddenly, he was moving between the two, pushing the other man out of the way and leaning on the bar surface, waving at the bartender.
"Excuse you!" The brunette snarled. Bruce coldly turned on him, allowing him to see the emptiness in his glacial eyes. The deadness. His desire to break every fucking bone in his worthless body.
The man timidly backed up, bumping into the person next to him
"One martini please." He smiled charmingly as the bartender approached at him, the Wayne name was good for a lot of things. He deliberately didn't break eye contact with the stranger, feeding the uncomfortable atmosphere.
"Is this man bothering you, darling?"  He didn't look at Clark, he already knew the anger that would lie in those cornflower blue eyes. A hint of confusion materialized on the brunette's face,
"You said you were single?"
"I am." Snarled Clark from behind him, practically radiating fury.
The bartender set a martini down before him, tension escalating.
He reached for it, clumsily knocking Clark's drink on the stranger. The alcohol splashed over the counter and down onto man's tailored tan pants, the stain of wetness perilously close to his crotch. A moment of silence followed as the brunette's eyes narrowed, suspicion dawning. Then Clark jumped in,
"Sorry!  I- I'll grab you some napkins." He sent a livid glare toward Bruce before making for one of the booths. Bruce waited a second as the stranger attempted to wipe some of the liquid off. Giving him a moment to relax, let his guard down.
He leaned forward, arm encircling the other man's shoulder and pulling him him closer. The position was almost intimate.
"I want you to listen to me closely. I know what you put in Clark's drink and I know what it does. I also know some of the most influential people on the police force. People who could make your life very very difficult."
He paused to smile benignly,
"If you ever, and I mean ever, do something like this again, I'll fucking bury you."
Raw fear blossomed in the man's eyes. He jerked away from him but at the last second he reached out and caught him, pulling him back,

"Remember, I'll be watching."

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Who the hell did he think he was? Clark fumed, glaring at Bruce's strong profile. His eyes caught on the other man's full lips, the slightest remnant of alcohol creating a kissable gleam. He snapped them away,

"You had no right. " he hissed under his breath, the iron of the table crinkling under his clenched fists like paper. Unused napkins fluttered away over the bar top. He reigned in his temper, aware that the damage had already been done. To the table and to the situation. A muscle on Bruce's jaw feathered as he deliberately looked up from Clark's hands.

"Not here." The Bastard promptly downed his drink and walked into crowd. He seethed while following after him.

After weaving through several rooms, Bruce headed down a narrow hallway. He ploughed ahead, watching as Bruce pulled out a key and preceded to unlock a door. 

"What is this?" His voice sounded loud in the empty hallway, the noises far the party far away.

"A private bedroom, only key access.  It's part of the La Coca exclusive members' club amenities"
"You pay how much per year so that you can have access to a couple private rooms?" Clark seethed, running a hand through his hair. Rich People. Bruce walked through the door first and he followed, promptly slamming it shut behind them.

"What the hell were you thinking? Acting jealous like that, you have no fucking right, Wayne."

Bruce turned on him, grey eyes holding infernos.
"You fuck me and then you practically kick me out, don't call, and then act like nothing happened. You don't get to just act all self righteous and bitchy when some guy approaches me at a bar, a bar for God's sake! I know you did that on purpose!"
Bruce finally spoke, his voice barely above a growl, shadows of the dark room cast on his face,
"He put rohypnol in your drink, Clark."

The Man of Steel blinked,
"Oh." Almost as an afterthought, he added,
"Well, I wouldn't have been affected."
Bruce's face transformed into one of wrath.
"Yeah," Bruce snarled, "Yeah, you wouldn't have. And then your darling admirer would have known something was wrong. That something was maybe wrong with you, Clark."
He paced before him,
"Christ, how could you be so reckless!" He had moved closer, and suddenly his gaze snagged on Clark. Something almost dangerous glittered in those dark eyes.
He found himself shoved up against the wall, Bruce's hot lips crushing his own. He opened his mouth and Bruce's tongue delved inside.
The kiss was possessive and dominating and everything he craved. Clark moaned into the other man's mouth, precisely  while Bruce's hand slid lower, briefly palming his crotch. He could feel Bruce's thick erection digging into his thigh like a brand and he wanted it. He wanted this. He didn't care about the consequences or after, it was worth whatever the cost.
He raked his nails down the hard muscle of Bruce's back as the other man sucked at his neck. Clark drags him closer, grinding against him, trying to create friction on his cock. He was painfully hard, practically begging for release and Bruce's occasional stroking wasn't helping.
"Bruce," he hisses, a moan in his voice as Bruce's hand returns to his cock.
"Yes, Darling?" His voice is like velvet, smooth and luxurious despite the breathlessness to it.
"Fuck me." Bruce pauses, pulling back abruptly, a smirk gradually curves over his lips.
"Take off your clothes."

QUESTION!!! Okay, I've gotten several comments about making this an explicit fic. Should I have some serious sexyiness in the next chapter or would you prefer I just skip over it? Let me know 😄