Ficlet: Thrill | Nolanverse/SV | Bruce/Lois, Ollie | NC-17 | 1/1
Title: Thrill
Fandom: Batman Nolanverse/Smallville
Pairing: Bruce Wayne/Lois Lane, Oliver Queen(/Clark Kent)
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 775
Prompt: For Porn Battle XII: dangerous, passion, tux, champagne, public, buttons, paparazzi, limo
Summary: Doing this here is a really bad idea.
Disclaimer: DC and WB own everything, the schmucks.
Author's Notes: Originally posted here at PB XII. Written for ferdalump, in a late, late response to this gorgeous manip she made (post is f-locked, sorry).
Thrill
They shouldn't be doing this.
Lois shouldn't be letting Bruce pull her along out of the main ballroom of the Gotham Grand and into the men's restroom, his hands already tugging up the hem of her dress. She shouldn't be shoving at his tux jacket as she kisses him senseless.
And they certainly shouldn't be stepping clumsily into a bathroom stall and shutting the door behind them, no privacy whatsoever, every possibility that someone will wander in, hear them, see them, know exactly what they're doing.
But that's what makes the moment: the thrill that they could get caught, that at any moment, a paparazzi might shove the door open and snap off a few quick photos, that Bruce's reputation as a playboy might be earned anew, and her own reputation as the Mad Dog of the Daily Planet might be ruined. It's the thrill of doing this where the sounds of the charity ball aren't quite muffled by the restroom door, where they're only a few steps from drinking champagne and nibbling on hours-dourves and laughing at jokes that aren't even remotely funny.
Gasping as Bruce pulls her dress up over her head, tossing it into the corner, Lois works the buttons of his dress shirt open, tugs off his tie and tosses it away, too, before diving in to kiss him again. His hands twine into her hair, loosening it from the up-do she had it in, and she drags her nails down his chest, leaving trails of fire in their wake.
Beneath her, he works his pants open, and she isn't at all surprised to find him hard as a rock already as he presses up against her. A quick tug of fabric, and he shoves her panties out of the way and flicks his thumb over her clit-holy mother of fuck!-before sliding into her, her cunt already plenty wet just from the excitement of doing this here.
Lois bites down on his shoulder to muffle a cry as he stretches her, sliding her down onto his cock as he thrusts up to meet her halfway, and he buries his face in her now freed hair and lets out a muffled moan. They'll be discovered if they're any louder. Hell, they'll be discovered anyway if they take very long, but Bruce keeps his hand between them, working her clit as she clings to him with a leg wrapped around his waist, and it doesn't take long at all before Lois is panting, whimpering, tightening around him, her body shaking as she comes.
And that pulls Bruce along with her, a growl ripping from his throat as he thrusts up into her once, twice, before he tenses, emptying into her.
Both of them shuddering with their climaxes, they collapse against the wall of the bathroom stall together, sliding down as Bruce slips free of her and fixes her panties back in place. Lois lands halfway in his lap, perched on her knees, their legs tangled, and Bruce wraps his arms around her, cradling her close as she drops her head to his shoulder again, trying to get her breath under control.
But suddenly the stall door is wrenched open, and twin spikes of adrenaline shoot up their spines as Lois backs away from Bruce and he reaches out a hand in defense, ready to crush any camera that might be shoved in their faces. Crap, they're ruined, they're done for, this was too dangerous and now they've been caught, and-
And Ollie Queen's dark grin meets them, the other resident playboy crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the stall. “Well, well. Thought I heard someone screaming. Didn't expect it to be you two.”
Grabbing for her dress, Lois gives Ollie a glare to beat all the glares she's ever given. “For God's sake, Queen, close the damn door so we can get dressed. You knew damn well there wasn't anybody in trouble in here.”
The twinkle of mischief in his eyes gives him away, and he shakes his head. “Maybe.”
Buttoning his shirt, Bruce counters, “Or maybe you and Clark were looking for a place to fuck, too, and we'd just gotten here first.”
“Heh. Touché,” Ollie admits with a smug look, but at last, he shuts the door, leaving them in peace.
The thrill and terror finally ebbing as they finish fixing their clothes, Lois turns her glare on Bruce and kisses him quickly. “That is the last time we do that in a public place.”
“Agreed,” he nods, and a smile tugs at his mouth and his eyes. “Though that still leaves the limo.”
“Oh, shut up.” And with a roll of her eyes, she swats him on the arm. “We'll see.”
~*~*~*~
Fandom: Batman Nolanverse/Smallville
Pairing: Bruce Wayne/Lois Lane, Oliver Queen(/Clark Kent)
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 775
Prompt: For Porn Battle XII: dangerous, passion, tux, champagne, public, buttons, paparazzi, limo
Summary: Doing this here is a really bad idea.
Disclaimer: DC and WB own everything, the schmucks.
Author's Notes: Originally posted here at PB XII. Written for ferdalump, in a late, late response to this gorgeous manip she made (post is f-locked, sorry).
Thrill
They shouldn't be doing this.
Lois shouldn't be letting Bruce pull her along out of the main ballroom of the Gotham Grand and into the men's restroom, his hands already tugging up the hem of her dress. She shouldn't be shoving at his tux jacket as she kisses him senseless.
And they certainly shouldn't be stepping clumsily into a bathroom stall and shutting the door behind them, no privacy whatsoever, every possibility that someone will wander in, hear them, see them, know exactly what they're doing.
But that's what makes the moment: the thrill that they could get caught, that at any moment, a paparazzi might shove the door open and snap off a few quick photos, that Bruce's reputation as a playboy might be earned anew, and her own reputation as the Mad Dog of the Daily Planet might be ruined. It's the thrill of doing this where the sounds of the charity ball aren't quite muffled by the restroom door, where they're only a few steps from drinking champagne and nibbling on hours-dourves and laughing at jokes that aren't even remotely funny.
Gasping as Bruce pulls her dress up over her head, tossing it into the corner, Lois works the buttons of his dress shirt open, tugs off his tie and tosses it away, too, before diving in to kiss him again. His hands twine into her hair, loosening it from the up-do she had it in, and she drags her nails down his chest, leaving trails of fire in their wake.
Beneath her, he works his pants open, and she isn't at all surprised to find him hard as a rock already as he presses up against her. A quick tug of fabric, and he shoves her panties out of the way and flicks his thumb over her clit-holy mother of fuck!-before sliding into her, her cunt already plenty wet just from the excitement of doing this here.
Lois bites down on his shoulder to muffle a cry as he stretches her, sliding her down onto his cock as he thrusts up to meet her halfway, and he buries his face in her now freed hair and lets out a muffled moan. They'll be discovered if they're any louder. Hell, they'll be discovered anyway if they take very long, but Bruce keeps his hand between them, working her clit as she clings to him with a leg wrapped around his waist, and it doesn't take long at all before Lois is panting, whimpering, tightening around him, her body shaking as she comes.
And that pulls Bruce along with her, a growl ripping from his throat as he thrusts up into her once, twice, before he tenses, emptying into her.
Both of them shuddering with their climaxes, they collapse against the wall of the bathroom stall together, sliding down as Bruce slips free of her and fixes her panties back in place. Lois lands halfway in his lap, perched on her knees, their legs tangled, and Bruce wraps his arms around her, cradling her close as she drops her head to his shoulder again, trying to get her breath under control.
But suddenly the stall door is wrenched open, and twin spikes of adrenaline shoot up their spines as Lois backs away from Bruce and he reaches out a hand in defense, ready to crush any camera that might be shoved in their faces. Crap, they're ruined, they're done for, this was too dangerous and now they've been caught, and-
And Ollie Queen's dark grin meets them, the other resident playboy crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the stall. “Well, well. Thought I heard someone screaming. Didn't expect it to be you two.”
Grabbing for her dress, Lois gives Ollie a glare to beat all the glares she's ever given. “For God's sake, Queen, close the damn door so we can get dressed. You knew damn well there wasn't anybody in trouble in here.”
The twinkle of mischief in his eyes gives him away, and he shakes his head. “Maybe.”
Buttoning his shirt, Bruce counters, “Or maybe you and Clark were looking for a place to fuck, too, and we'd just gotten here first.”
“Heh. Touché,” Ollie admits with a smug look, but at last, he shuts the door, leaving them in peace.
The thrill and terror finally ebbing as they finish fixing their clothes, Lois turns her glare on Bruce and kisses him quickly. “That is the last time we do that in a public place.”
“Agreed,” he nods, and a smile tugs at his mouth and his eyes. “Though that still leaves the limo.”
“Oh, shut up.” And with a roll of her eyes, she swats him on the arm. “We'll see.”
~*~*~*~