Fourth Time's The Charm

Where Bruce stole one back

Bruce stood outside Clark's apartment building. It has been six days since he last saw him. He hasn't made his appearance at the Watchtower nor is he working at The Daily Planet either.

Bruce was worried. It's been hours since he contemplated on how to approach him. He thought of Diana's words to him when she caught him at the Tower, doing something he had never done before, finding a distraction.

"He fucked up. Bad. But you fucked up too." Yes, he did. But he wasn't going to admit that to Diana.

"You knew didn't you, Bruce? Or rather you suspected it. Since the first time that Clark kissed you he saw the other side of what he could have." Diana put her hand on his arm making him look at her blue eyes.

"And I think you saw it too."

By God, he did.

He saw it the first time he accidentally sipped Clark's coffee.

The second time when he thought the world around him stopped.

The third time when he thought he'd never laugh the way Clark made him laugh.

The fourth time when he thought to push him away.

Guilt ate through him. Yes, he ran away. He could take doses of Scarecrow's fear toxins, could bear the pain when Bane broke his back, could take all the psychological games The Joker threw at him. He'd rather face the entire villain of Arkham Asylum than face the reality of his feelings for Clark.

After years of friendship, they had formed a bond. They had been through thick and thin. Had offered guidance to one another. Had seen all the good and bad. Throwing intimacy creates a whole new aspect for Bruce's life.

He thought of a lover. A lover who knows him. He thought of Clark being his. A shot of heat went through him, making his heart flutter.

He faced Clark's door. He had never felt hesitant seeing him before. He took a deep breath, slipped the keys into the keyhole, twisted the doorknob and opened the door.

Chaos met him.

The living room was destroyed. All of the furniture toppled over. Vase broken, water seeping through the carpet, flowers wilted. The kitchen vandalized. Plates and glasses broken and bottles.

Beer bottles.

He heard a choked noise. It came from the bedroom. He headed towards it.

Then there was Clark, sitting on the floor, his back against the side of the bed. His head hung down looking like a man who lost everything. Guilt and despair wrapped around his heart.

"I remember when we first met." Clark's voice, fond. "You were prowling around my city as if you own it. You really had the balls to tell me to get out of your way. You were getting on my nerves. You were so arrogant. So...beautiful. Before I knew it, I've already sunk in deep and I don't mind drowning from it." Clark looked at him, his eyes bloodshot, his voice hoarse. "I didn't mean to, Bruce. But I just couldn't help myself once it started. And I've hurt you. I'm despicable. A pathetic excuse for a man. You should've used the Kryptonite to end me. You should'v--"

Bruce knelt to the floor and grabbed his face. "Shut up! You don't get to say that." He snarled, pouring every ounce of heartbreak at every word he said. He rested his forehead against Clark's. He closed his eyes tightly and took a ragged breath.

"I'm sorry." He heard Clark's sharp intake of breath. His grip tightened on his face as he continued. "I'm sorry that I've hurt you. Letting people in is difficult for me. If I do it always ends in disappointment. I learned to build up my walls and kept a closed mind to all things...intimate. But you who carry the world at its feet, could have anyone that you want--"

"I only want you." Clark's whispered answer a music to his ears. His eyes were beginning to well up.

"The day I pushed you away was the worst. The days were bleak without you, the nights longer. An unbearable silence that mocks me. And I needed you, Clark. I needed your light. I didn't know how to deal with this or rather I didn't know how to approach you. But I'm here now. I know how I feel about you..." He opened his eyes and gazed down at the hue that could rival the pristine ocean.

"And I've never been more sure in my entire life."

Clark's face beautifully transformed. Wonder and hope intertwining and it was him that he looked at.

Bruce kissed him, tongue circling his mouth making Clark groan. It wasn't long when he caught up and took over the kiss. Bruce fumbled with his clothes, removing all intricacies of his suit, until he was completely naked before Clark.

"You're so beautiful, Bruce." Awe and heat in his voice as he caressed his scarred body, as if memorizing every line.

Bruce straddled him, hard exposed length against the jean clad one, rubbing each other, moaning at the contact. Clark gripped his hips and kissed him down to the floor, before leaning back up and pulling his shirt over his head. After, he worked on his jeans. Muscles rippling at the movement.

Their lips met together making up for the days that they were not be able to be with each other.

"I need you, Clark." He said, panting.

And right there on the floor, they had made love. Their souls finally founding each other. After their romantic tryst, they had laid together.
Warm, boneless and sated.

"You need a shave." He said as he caressed Clark's face, feeling the hard scruffs. Clark gave him a beautiful smile, eyes filled with warmth and amusement. He turned his face and pressed a loving kiss in his palm.

"Okay." They were quiet, enjoying the comfortable silence.

"Bruce, I--" He cut him off with a deep kiss.

"Me too, Clark." He smiled. "Me too."

*********
Author's note:

I was planning of a more detailed smutty ending but I figured this one fit best. Maybe I'll give them one in the near future.

Thank you for reading. 😃