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He knew Bruce was with Hal, but that didn’t stop him from trying to win him over. He’d been in love with Bruce forever and he knew Hal was just temporary, like all the others before him, so he was fine with waiting for the stubborn Bat to realize they belonged together. That didn’t mean that Clark couldn’t encourage him a little. A desperately needed coffee here, a perfectly timed pad thai there, and a few ‘innocent’ comments that showed just how well he truly knew Bruce to nudge that beautiful brain in the right direction. Nothing too obvious or he’d be suspicious.
Bruce was supposed to be alone in the Manor this week and the man was likely holed up in his cave forgetting to eat or sleep or shower. So Clark was on his way to Gotham to herd the creature of darkness he’d fallen in love with into a proper human again. Maybe showing Bruce that he could take care of him when Alfred was unavailable (he was on a well deserved vacation at the moment) would finally tip the scales in Clark’s favor. The thought steeled his resolve as he sped toward the Manor from high above. Clark shot from beneath the cloud cover to the hidden outer entrance of the Bat Cave too fast for the human eye to see. He slowed as he flew along the tunnel leading to Batman’s inner sanctuary. Just as he was about to emerge in the cavern itself he heard a voice that was not Bruce’s.
“You’ve really never done it in the cave before? I find that hard to believe.” That was Hal. What was he doing here? He was supposed to be on assignment across the galaxy.
“I’ve really never had sex in the cave before. I’ve never trusted a lover enough to bring them down here.” But he trusted Hal?
“Well whaddya say we change that?” Clark didn’t need to peek around the rough rock wall to know there was a salacious grin on the pilot’s face, he could hear it. He gritted his teeth against the ugly, acidic jealousy that threatened to spill from his throat.
“Hmm what did you have in mind?” Why wasn’t Bruce saying no? This was his sacred space that he’d only ever shared with Alfred and Clark. How could he allow Hal to tarnish that?
“So I have this fantasy…” Hal trailed off tauntingly.
“Oh, do you now?” The mirth in Bruce’s voice didn’t make sense to Clark. “Do tell.” Neither did his willingness to play along with whatever ridiculous game Hal was playing.
“Ok so it goes like this: you bend me over the batmobile and fuck my brains out,” Hal proclaimed proudly. Clark almost scoffed out loud. There’s no way Bruce would agree to that, the batmobile was his baby. He didn’t even let Clark touch it.
“That does sound tempting… But if you put a scratch on her- I will hide your ring and throw you in the harbor.” Clark had only been half right apparently. He couldn’t help the spike of resentment toward Hal he felt in that moment. If Clark was honest he didn’t try very hard to fight it.
“Guess you’ll have to find something better for me to scratch up then.”
“Or I could tie your hands up.” Bruce said it so casually, as if it was something he did often and without thought.
“That works too,” Hal groaned, obviously on board with the idea. Clothes rustled and Clark heard the whisper of fabric hitting the floor, probably Hal’s shirt.
“Front or back?” Bruce’s words dripped with smugness, like he’d won something. Clark didn’t understand the question, front or back of what?
“Fuck. Back. Putting all my weight on my arms like that makes ‘em go numb after a while.” Hal replied, a tad breathlessly. Oh. So that’s what Bruce meant.
“...Noted” His slow answer made it sound like he had plans for that bit of information. Clark didn’t want to know.
“I don’t like the way you said that.” Well, he couldn’t say Hal wasn’t perceptive.
“And why is that?” There was a smile in his voice if you knew where to look for it. Clark smirked to himself; Hal may have Bruce now, but only Clark knew him inside and out.
The click of handcuffs reached Clark’s ears. So, Hal had let Bruce bind his hands anyway. Interesting. He wondered, a little irritated, if Hal had heard that smile too. Clark was supposed to be the only one that could read Bruce that easily.
“Cause I’m pretty sure you’re going to use that information against me.” Again, he thought, he’s quick on the uptake. Clark hated him for playfulness and desire steeped into his hypothesis.
“Not today.” Did that mean he would some other time? How often did they play these games? Clark felt a little sick.
“Oh yeah, that’s totally reassuring.” Clark had to agree, for entirely different reasons. It was far from reassuring to him that Bruce seemed to think he and Hal had some sort of future ahead of them. That he’d allowed Hal into his most sacred space. That Hal seemed to be able to read Bruce as well as Clark himself could.
“How are the cuffs?” Bruce had apparently elected to ignore Hal’s last comment.
“They’re good, Spooky. You know they are.” Hal huffed in exasperation, seemingly content to let the topic drop. Good.
“Forgive me for considering your comfort.” Bruce drawled sarcastically. Clark loved that tone. Hated seeing directed at Hal. The austere Gothamite so rarely indulged in any sort of humor.
Two sets of footsteps sounded like they were walking further into the cave. Toward the batmobile. Clark silently fumed- that should be him. What had Hal done to earn that kind of trust?
“Yeah, quit that shit and fuck me already.” Hal snarked back. Clark sneered, he would be so much more appreciative of Bruce’s thoughtfulness. Why couldn’t he see that?
“Romance truly is dead,” The Gothamite deadpanned as they came to a stop. Clark knew that they were now on a smaller platform, connected to the main area by a short gangway, that held the Bat’s various vehicles.
“You love me.” Of course they couldn’t even stop bickering and bantering long enough to have sex. Clark didn’t see the appeal.
“I do.” His heart stopped. Surely Clark hadn’t heard him right. There was no way Bruce just admitted to loving Hal Jordan. He’d said it so easily.
“You fuckin’ better.” Hal sniffed. Clark was dumbfounded.
Hal was only supposed to be temporary. Not… this.
Clark risked a peek, the platform was off to his left and clearly visible without leaving the rock wall and shadows that hid him from view. His earlier guess had been right, Hal’s shirt was nowhere to be seen. The sun-bronzed planes of his chest were thrown into sharp relief by the pull of his muscled arms cuffed behind him. With jeans slung low on his hips, the top of his happy trail peeking over them, and his copper hair tousled like someone had been running their hands through it- Clark had to admit he cut an attractive figure. And it only made him hate Hal more.
Abruptly Hal was shoved forward onto the hood of the batmobile. Without his hands he couldn’t catch himself and hissed when his face made a sharp impact with the metal. How satisfying. But the indignant protest Clark expected didn’t come. Instead Hal panted harshly against the matte black paint and waited. Bruce prowled to him so he could trail teasing fingers along his spine and Hal moaned at the contact.
“You’re so easy.” Bruce teased. Teased. Bruce didn’t tease. His humor- when it showed- was sarcastic, witty, and dry. He had never teased Clark.
“Whatever. You’re just as bad,” Hal accused and Clark knew he was rolling his eyes even if no one could see it with the way he faced the black metal beneath him. The pilot’s body was covered in goosebumps as Bruce dragged long, scarred-flecked fingers over the bare golden skin of his back, arms, and neck lightly.
“You might be right.” Bruce shrugged, conceding without argument. Clark’s eyebrows inched toward his hairline, he’d never seen Bruce back down that easily in the entire time he’d known him. The wandering fingers retreated.
“I know I’m right.” Hal shot back arrogantly. Typical.
“Don’t make me gag you.” Well. Clark was learning all kinds of things about Bruce’s kinks today wasn’t he?
“You won’t. You like listening to me beg for your cock too much.” Of course Hal still couldn’t resist sassing him. Clark hoped Bruce did gag him.
“Has anyone ever told you that you have a filthy mouth.” Bruce asked mildly, sliding his hands into the waistband of those worn jeans.
“Yeah, you, when-” Whatever Hal had been about to say was cut off by his yelp of surprise when Bruce yanked his pants down to his knees without unbuttoning them. He wasn’t wearing anything underneath. “Shit, that’s hot,” he panted, shifting restlessly against the car.
“Quit squirming.” Bruce smacked his ass hard enough that Clark winced. Hal moaned like Bruce had stroked his cock instead. Clark blinked. He hadn’t expected that.
“Then fuck me,” Hal complained.
“Unless you want it dry, you’re going to have to wait a minute.” Bruce pulled a packet of lube from his pocket and held it up where Hal could see it. Hal whined impatiently. “Do you want this or not?” he asked with an arched brow.
“Yes I want the fucking lube you prick,” Hal bit back. How Bruce put up with his attitude Clark didn’t know.
“Then stay still,” Bruce snarled. Hal obediently controlled himself until his only movement was the rise and fall of his chest. He was rewarded by Bruce tearing the packet open with his teeth, slathering the contents on his cock, and using the excess to slip two fingers into Hal’s hole without preamble. The pilot moaned, low and needy, and his thighs trembled with the effort of his restraint.
“Please! Bruce! Don’t need the prep, just get in me.” Huh. Hal really did beg for his cock.
“It will hurt if I don’t stretch you first. You know this.” Bruce sounded exasperated, like this was a conversation they’d had a thousand times before. How annoying that must be to a man who hated repeating himself. Another reason Clark was a better fit for him.
“And you know that I like it when it hurts. Now, if you don’t hurry up and fuck me I’m gonna go fuck myself on the gearshift.” Hal’s incessant snarking was grating on Clark’s nerves. He really wished Bruce had gagged him.
“As much as I like the visual,” Bruce grabbed Hal’s hips tightly and lined the head of his magnificent cock up with Hal’s hole, “Lube will ruin the upholstery.” He slammed in to the hilt in one powerful thrust. A choked shout was forced from Hal’s throat and his face smashed into the hood again.
“Is this what you wanted?” Bruce growled as he began fucking Hal hard enough to make his teeth rattle without giving him any time to adjust. Clark was sure if envy really turned you green his skin would be a shining emerald right now. He stewed in it as Hal moaned and cried shamelessly.
“Answer me,” Bruce commanded without pausing in his thrusts, pulling the Lantern’s head back with a sturdy grip on chestnut strands.
“Yes, yes, yes. Thank you, thank you,” Hal sobbed, glittering tears of pleasure running from his hazel eyes and down his reddening face. Clark could see his cock straining between his legs. A sadistic part of him hoped Bruce denied him release.
“Good, because you’re going to come from just this.” Hal cried harder and Bruce leaned over his back to lick the salty droplets from his skin. “You look so pretty when you cry,” he murmured huskily in Hal’s ear. On the bright side Hal was too far gone for any acerbic retorts. However, in their absence were whimpers and whines falling unabated from his slack, open mouth. Clark didn’t think that was any better.
“C- Cum inside,” Hal gasped out between harsh thrusts, “Mark me. Please.”
Bruce went feral.
He thrust into Hal like an animal, seemingly abandoning his pursuit of his partner’s pleasure, while the pilot continued to whine and cry through it all. Bruce may find that attractive, but Clark thought it was damned annoying. Honestly, Clark wasn’t even sure why he was still watching them. He shouldn’t have started in the first place. What he should have done was turned around the moment he realized Hal was in the cave. Being here was doing nothing but pissing him off.
Blissfully unaware of Clark’s aggravated introspection Bruce had apparently found his completion, judging by the guttural groan he let out and the stuttering halt to his thrusts. Hal shook and wept and came seconds after him. Clark was begrudgingly impressed by his ability to cum without a single touch to his cock throughout this entire encounter. Maybe they deserved each other after all; if all of that was what Bruce was looking for then he and Clark wouldn’t have worked out anyway.
He didn’t stick around for the clean up.