Repost: Fic: Morning (I): At The Manor
So it's just not my day! Somehow this story disappeared from my journal and all the
lovely comments that went with it! Sob! So I'm reposting it but Goddess knows if it'll
f***in' work!
Title: Morning (I): At The Manor
Pairings/Characters: Clark/Bruce
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: None, unless steamy sex counts! :)
Spoilers: None
Summary: A lazy, languorous morning at the Manor…
Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, DC does, more’s the pity.
Date Of Completion: February 9, 2007
Date Of Posting: February 9, 2007 Reposted March 4, 2007
Word Count: 1300
Author’s Note: I guess I could call this ‘speedfic’. I got the idea this morning,
wrote it this afternoon, and revised it
this evening. Hopefully it all came together! :) The entire series can be found here.
Clark drifted up from the netherworld of sleep, his senses aware of the man entwined with him. Eyes still closed, a
smile crossed his face as he luxuriated in the sensation of satiny skin close to his own. Hard and scarred, satin and
smooth, all of it was Bruce.
His fingers stroked the silk sheets as he breathed in his lover’s scent. The musk of sex hung over their bodies,
coupled with the faint scent of Bruce’s favorite lemon shampoo. Heavy black velvet drapes blocked out the sun but
didn’t block out the sounds of robins singing and a seagull crying as the ocean kept up its eternal ebb and flow.
Muffled footsteps out in the hall headed down the stairs.
Clark turned his head and tightened his hold on Bruce, brushing his lips against his lover’s. A small sound of happiness
warmed his heart, and he slipped his leg over Bruce’s.
“Mmm.” Clark opened his eyes in time to see Bruce do the same. “’Mornin’, Clark.”
“Good morning, Bruce.”
The kiss was warm and loving, and Clark sighed with happiness. Bruce’s eyes were amused. “Can you stay, or
must you rush off to Metropolis?”
“I can stay all day.” He winked. “A reward for that interview with Superman last week.”
“Good.” Bruce slipped out of bed, yawning and stretching, putting on a show with an appreciative audience of one.
“I’m going to shave and shower.” He grabbed a robe (black silk, of course) and padded into the bathroom.
Clark sat up and relaxed back against the headboard. His super-hearing detected the sounds of Alfred cooking
breakfast downstairs. He smiled as he smelled pancakes and strawberries.
“Thanks for breakfast, Alfred. Tell Bruce I’ll see him tonight, and tell Clark hi.”
Amused answer from Alfred, “And how do you know Master Clark is in residence?”
“Well, for one thing, my bedroom is right next to Bruce’s (Clark blushed), but I could tell by the swoosh.”
“The swoosh?”
“Yeah. Sure, there’s lots of wind up here and if I wasn’t paying attention, it could’ve gotten by me. But I
know Superman’s swoosh when he comes in for a landing. Just like I know Babs’ and Bruce’s, I know
Clark’s. He’s never been able to sneak up on me yet.”
Clark never ceased to be amazed by the Teen Wonder.
“So if he isn’t listening, tell him hi for me. And if you are listening, Clark, good work! A happy Bat is a
healthy Bat!” Laughter echoed as Dick left the house.
Clark shook his head. A life without Dick Grayson in it would be less bright indeed.
As Dick’s motorcycle roared off, Clark stretched and levitated off the bed, letting the silk slide off his body. Rolling
into a ball, he performed some lazy circles in the air, then slowly stretched out his muscles, alighting silently outside the
bathroom door. Bruce had finished shaving and was now starting the shower. Smiling, Clark slipped in.
The bathroom was already damp as hot water sprayed down on the shapely silhouette behind the shower curtain.
Clark had once teased Bruce by asking him why he didn’t have a $6,000 shower curtain like the CEO of Enron, but
Bruce had replied quite haughtily that it was bad taste. Clark grinned as he pulled back the curtain.
“Urgh! You’re quite a sneak, Clark Kent.” Bruce wiped the water out of his eyes.
“I learned it from the Bat.”
Bruce snorted and proceeded to soap his chest, making a great show of ignoring Clark. Clark simply took the soap
out of his grasp and finished the job, sliding the bar over to the broad back, then down to tease the buttocks, and
slip across the strong thighs. Bruce’s breathing indicated his interest, his head bent as water streamed through his
hair and down his chest and back. He leaned into the spray, cleansing his body, then turned around to let the water
caress the rest.
Blue eyes stared out at Clark, the wet strands of midnight framing the damp, handsome face, a slight smile playing
around his lips. Clark gently brushed a strand away from Bruce’s eyes, then slid to his knees, cascading down the
waterfall of his desire as water sluiced down the carved body, his hands gripping the thighs gently and his tongue
flicking out to slide up the underside of the bobbing cock that greeted him. He tasted satin and diamonds as he
explored Bruce’s manhood, little whimpers and hands on his shoulders letting him know his magic was working.
When he swallowed Bruce, hips bucked and the moans were louder. He suckled, teased, and then used his
talented tongue to draw out Bruce’s essence, taking it deep within him as droplets of water streamed down his face.
Stray tears of tenderness mingled with the water.
I love you, I love you, forever and a day…
He drained every pearly drop, opening his eyes to see Bruce limp against the tiled wall, wet and wild and wanton as
his eyes snapped open and he growled, urging Clark to his feet and crushing him into a kiss that shook Clark to his
very core. Bruce’s callused hands cupped his lover’s buttocks, squeezing and touching and demanding…
Clark obeyed that demand, allowing himself to be shoved up against the wall, his buttocks spread and the hot flesh
spearing him with pleasure. He nearly crooned with the sweetness of it, his cheek resting against the tiles as Bruce
pumped back and forth, leaning forward and whispering in his ear, “I love you,” before spurting deep within Clark,
the remnants of their lovemaking washed away with the water running down their backs and legs and love could be
dirty or squeaky clean, but always wet and wonderful. Clark laughed at his whimsical thoughts and wrapped his
arms around Bruce, kissing him as the water streaked diamonds through Bruce’s midnight hair.
Bruce rested his head on Clark’s shoulder. “I’m going to wind up a prune.”
“Prunes…” Clark lightly caressed Bruce’s balls “…plums, what’s the difference?”
A strangled cough was Bruce’s reply, and Clark chuckled.
They finally emerged from the shower, toweling each other down, then slipped into robes, Clark’s a nice,
shimmering, bright blue as he went to the windows and opened the drapes, lifting his face toward the sun. He
received his morning dose and then climbed back into bed. Bruce opened the door to call down to Alfred for a
breakfast tray and was rewarded by one already set by the door. He shook his head with a smile and picked it up,
kicking the door shut with his foot.
Carrying the tray over, he balanced it over Clark’s lap and then climbed into bed next to him.
“Hmm, Alfred’s usual top quality: buttermilk pancakes, Vermont maple syrup, fresh strawberries, and orange juice.”
“And a red rose in a vase. Alfred is a gem, Bruce.”
Clark felt very content as he and Bruce ate, watching the birds flying outside the windows, a glow surrounding both
of them in the aftermath of lovemaking. Clark picked up a strawberry and offered it to Bruce, who arched an
eyebrow.
“The Batman doesn’t do romantic schmoop.”
Clark laughed. “Yes, but Bruce does.”
Eyes sparkling, Bruce opened his mouth and Clark fed him the strawberry, allowing his fingers to be kissed as the
fruit disappeared. Bruce took a new strawberry and offered it to Clark, whose joy was infectious.
Clark ate the strawberry and began sucking on Bruce’s fingers.
Strawberries and Bruce.
What more could a Superman ask for?
& & & & & &
When Alfred picked up the tray in front of the closed bedroom door, all the dishes were stacked neatly. The only
thing missing was the rose in the vase.
He headed downstairs with a smile on his face.