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Time passed; just like that, in the blink of an eye. A smile, a glance. An anxious look, a tiny smile the first time Dick took Bruce’s hand, slipped his fingers between his, and held on tightly. A suppressed laugh, gentle and warm, when he pressed his face against the man’s chest, leaning in to find comfort. The stiff arm that went around his shoulders, drifting, hovering uncertain. A sigh, a slow unwinding, when he rested his hand on that small shoulder, and allowed it to remain there.
A moment in time; a fleeting instant, vanished in the many years that have passed between them. A moment like the others, like the other dazzling fragments of memories lost in the years.
The first time Dick kissed him, passion overriding his senses, the spark of lust visible in his eyes. He kissed him, body trembling, breath rapid and fast, eyes half-open to make sure it was okay. And when Bruce raised his hands to that soft face and kissed him back, watching his eyes close completely, feeling him relax against his touch-
Selina had never seen these moments happen. All she knew for certain, all she’d ever known, were the assumptions of her active imagination. Stories she’d read from pages of an old journal she’d stolen from Dick, when she was trying to find out more about Bruce. Small one-liners and side comments from the man himself, when she caught him in a nostalgic mood, half-drunk and too careless to conceal some of the better details.
Details, like the fact that he was having sex with Dick. Details, like the fact that he was proud of him- no, he wasn’t just proud. When he said he loved him, she had to avert her eyes. Because he had that look on his face, a look Dick had described in those pages before. A look that had always eluded her when it was just them two, and that boy wasn’t a part of the conversation. A look of gentleness, of kindness; a soft expression that made Bruce seem less like a dark knight and more like a human.
Bruce didn’t say he loved him; not outright. But he didn’t need to say the words. Because when she asked him, “He’s your lover,” with a smirk on her face, expecting a sharp comeback-
What she received was that expression, that unsettling yielding. Like his entire being relaxed when he leaned back against the pillows and murmured, “Yes.” There was no edge in his voice. No resentment. No fear. No darkness.
She’d seen them kiss before. She’d noticed the way Bruce held him, an arm around his waist like he was afraid he’d fall away. She’d watched them in silence, when they made love. She’d seen the way Bruce touched him, the way Dick gave himself completely; the way they completely gave themselves to each other.
She chose to downplay it. She saw—and understood—the way Dick looked at him. She’d noticed the way Dick looked at her. She knew, more than anyone, the extent of his feelings for Bruce. She could imagine what he would do, if she ever threatened to take him away.
Bruce was allowed to kiss her, to sleep with her, to go on dates, to act like her boyfriend during his time away from home. But he wasn’t hers. He would never be hers to keep.
She didn’t like to spend any of her nights with Bruce at the manor. Because in the morning, there it was. The sound of Dick’s laughter, traveling through the walls. The gradually cooling, empty space in the bed beside her.
If she was fortunate enough for Bruce to still be there, she’d watch him for his reaction. That joyous sound; he’d open his eyes and turn towards the door, like he was waiting for the right moment to leave. Like that sound was beckoning to him. Calling to him.
She wasn’t supposed to come today. Bruce had told her. “I’ll be occupied,” he said. Which meant he’d be home, but distracted. And she knew exactly why.
Maybe it was optimism. Maybe it was the trace of hope inside her mind. Maybe it was that fleeting moment when she foolishly believed she’d finally won him over. That maybe he’d miss her. That maybe he’d be legitimately working on his day away, instead of spending it sprawled across a bed, fucking his boyfriend.
But when she climbed up to the windowsill, preparing to make her usual entrance through the window, there it was. That sight, the image of Bruce’s body, the way he was moving in slow rises and falls, rising and falling, pushing forward and back as two beautiful hands were gripping his shoulders, hands that belonged to the lean body beneath him, slender legs hooked around his waist. And when he’d rise, in between the thrusts she’d catch glimpses of that face beneath him, the beautiful face he loved so much, eyes closed and lips parted with pleasure.
She doesn’t expect him to open his eyes; he didn’t, last time.
But he does.
He doesn’t react, after the initial surprise. His eyes widen, for just a moment, before his face distorts into what appears to be a moan as he closes them again. Tilts his head back, body arching beneath Bruce, a hand clawing through his hair, and lips murmuring something she can’t hear. Something she’s initially terrified of, before she notices Bruce’s reaction.
Bruce’s reaction, an aggressive kiss against his neck. He lingers there for a while, continuing to pound into him as Dick closes his eyes and allows his hands to roam, tracing down his back, across his shoulders, everywhere they can reach-
He didn’t tell him.
Selina doesn’t know why. God knows she would have. She would've enjoyed seeing the reaction. But Dick saw her—she knows he saw her—and chose not to say a word. He chose to let Bruce stay ignorant of the fact, instead whispering something that only drove him into more of a frenzy.
Bruce’s kisses roaming back to his mouth, and at this point Selina is feeling the frustration of being too high up. Too far to get a better view of what’s going on.
She doesn’t know why she wants to see it. Shouldn’t. Doesn’t. Shouldn’t. But she does. Feels a need to see it. Feels a need to understand. To know more, and more. To know more, to always know more of why her lover doesn’t love her.
Well, maybe he does. But whatever love he feels for her, it can’t-
When she lands on the nearest balcony below, she’s greeted with an immediate view, an erotic display of Dick’s body arching from the bed, as she can see where Bruce’s body meets his, as he thrusts from in between his legs. Their faces crushed together, lips locked and dark silhouettes coordinated and rising and falling together in a steady rhythm.
It can’t compare to the way he loves Dick.
Dick’s hands on his face, keeping him there as Bruce thrusts into him again and again, the sheets tangled at his feet, his back coated with a layer of sweat as he rolls his hips with each push forward.
They’re beautiful, like this. It’s no surprise. A boy as beautiful as Dick would be a lovely sight with anyone. Especially a man as handsome and well-built as Bruce. Their bodies fit together. Their perfect profiles match each other-
Bruce does something surprising. After Dick says something, says something desperately; for a moment, Selina thinks she’s been found out, and that she can’t hide away from it this time.
But no. No, again.
Dick’s being turned over, with a sharp cry as he’s pressed flat against the bed, his face turned towards her as he stares back in silence, stares in silence and a kind of grin on his face as Bruce climbs over him, sliding his legs into place and pushing himself deeper inside him.
Dick’s eyes close. His lips part; she’s sure there's a gorgeous array of sounds spilling out, as Bruce thrusts into him again and again, positioning his hands on either side of his lover’s body, hands sinking into the bed as he fucks him mercilessly, mercilessly with an awe-inspiring desperation as he thrusts and thrusts, thrusts and starts to impulsively, passionately trail wet and near-vicious kisses across the back of his neck, his shoulders, the spot between his shoulder blades-
Dick’s moaning; obviously. He’s moaning and frowning to himself, trembling as those kisses continue, and one of Bruce’s arms slides beneath his body. That hand pressing flat against his chest, fingers anxious to hold him, a touch that’s surprisingly powerful and sentimental at the same time. Dick manages to reach down and curl one of his hands around, to intertwine their fingers together as he starts to pant and lose the last of his composure.
It’s almost unnatural, to see Bruce like this.
It’s not lust that’s driving him. Lust is a significant factor; but it’s not lust that makes him yield like this, that makes him kiss him like that, kisses trailing across Dick’s skin like he adores every inch of it. It’s not lust that made him say whatever he just said to him; whatever he just said, that’s making Dick say something back, something that makes him smile in between the gasps and moans.
It’s becoming painful to watch; but it feels right, somehow. This is how it should be. This is how it’s always been.
She’s always been borrowing someone else’s toy.
Someone else’s love.
And when Dick cries out, cries out so loud she hears the faint sound of it through the glass of the window, she knows he just came, and when he opens his eyes and looks at her, panting heavily with his eyes only half-open, she knows he’s feeling too euphoric and blissful to care.
She smiles and gives him a small wave; he responds with a polite smirk, before closing his eyes, tensing up as Bruce is burying his face against his back, a hand on his lover’s waist as he holds him steady, holds him steady while he remains perfectly still for a moment. Perfectly still, before he relaxes and presses a kiss against his back, leaning back up with a slow sigh and a glazed look on his face.
Bruce has never looked that like that, when he comes; not with her.
He traces a hand up his lover’s back, massaging in wide circles as he pauses at the bottom of Dick’s neck, where he redirects his attention to his hair, trailing his fingers through it, as Dick closes his eyes and sinks into the pillow beneath his face.
He’s smiling; the whole room lights up when he smiles.
When Bruce pulls out of him, pulls out slowly, his cock hangs somewhat stiffly between his legs for a moment as he looks at the smooth body he just fucked, as he admires the view. He’s a jerk like that. Selina knows it. He’d never admit it to her, but she knows more of his kinks than he’d ever expect.
His biggest kink is Dick Grayson’s body.
He tugs Dick into turning over, to lay flat on his back. Crawls over him, saying something, words that can’t be heard as Dick nods, and smiles back. A kiss. More words. Another kiss. More words. And another. A kiss that doesn’t end for a while, that shows no sign of slowing down.
Dick’s hands are winding through his hair, and Bruce kisses him like a man in love.
Perhaps because he is.
Well, that was a fun show.
It’s time to go.