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bradygirl_12Author: BradyGirl
Pairings/Characters: Clark/Bruce, Jonathan/Martha, Dick
Genres: Challenge, Holiday, Romance
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: None
Spoilers: None
Summary: Bruce prefers ginger ale to champagne on this Valentine’s Day.
Date Of Completion: January 19, 2008
Date Of Posting: January 19, 2008
Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, DC does, more’s the pity.
Word Count: 1129
Feedback welcome and appreciated.
Author’s Notes: Written for my 2008 DCU Fic/Art Valentine’s Day Challenge and 2008 DCU Fic/Art Chocolate Challenge.
Valentine's Day Challenge Prompts Used: Chocolate/Candies, Dinner, Red. I took them from the Traditional Category though they weren't all exactly used in the traditional way. ;)
The series can be found here.
This is early in the series and Dick is around 11 years old.
Bruce relaxed against the couch, stretching his legs out under the coffee table. His head brushed against Clark’s jeans-clad thigh, his lover stretched out on the couch. Snow was falling outside the farmhouse as they watched TV, pleasantly filled with a delicious dinner that Martha had cooked. She and Jonathan were seated in their favorite chairs, sharing the chocolates from the large heart-shaped box that Jonathan had presented his wife. Dick’s hand would shoot up to pick out a chocolate from his position sitting on the floor between their chairs, the Kents grinning.
Clark and Bruce had sampled from the box, and now were sampling from the box that Clark had given Bruce.
Bruce had not felt so relaxed in years. He still couldn’t quite believe that he was sitting here on the floor in the Kent living room, pleasantly stuffed from that dinner and enjoying chocolates that Clark had carefully chosen for him. Previous Valentine Days had found him playing the fancy playboy with the flavor-of-the-month date, dazzling her with dinner, dancing, and a glittery bauble, sometimes a roll in the hay afterwards, leaving him feeling hollow and disgusted with himself.
He didn’t want to think about those Valentine Days anymore. He liked this one, Clark’s fingers combing gently through his hair, his parents accepting him, Dick happy and absolutely overjoyed that he and Clark were together.
Clark’s hand reached around to play with his collar and he gently grasped it. The arm was clad in a red cashmere sweater, a gift from him on this day for lovers and family.
Dick caught his eye and the boy winked, Bruce answering with a smile. His pride in his boy swelled, the sharp intelligence and generous heart so much like Clark’s. Dick’s grin was incandescent as he jumped up and said, “Want refills?” to the room. He took the Kents’ glasses and came back with ginger ale, and refilled Clark and Bruce’s glasses as well before he sat back down with his own fresh glass.
Bruce had dithered over whether getting Clark red or a light-blue sweater, then Dick had said saucily, “Why not get both? You’re rich as sin.”
True, my little smart-aleck.
So Clark was gifted with two expensive cashmere sweaters which he had loved, and immediately put on one of them for tonight. Clark’s gift to him was the box of chocolates and a beautiful silver pen which Bruce knew he would keep in his father’s old desk at the Manor to write speeches and edit press releases and a dozen other things.
A writer’s gift from a writer.
He knew how much Clark loved to write, calling it something of his own that wasn’t derived from his powers but seemed to be a natural talent. Clark had laughingly said that one day he planned to write the Great American Novel like so many reporters talked about, but Bruce had no doubt that he could do it if he chose to.
There were presents of a new ipod to Dick from them both and a gift certificate to his favorite comic book store back home. Dick had happily presented them with a gift certificate to their favorite restaurant and CDs for the Porsche.
Gifts were exchanged with the Kents, Bruce always mindful of taking care of his in-laws, who he respected and loved. The preserves from Martha and the handsome handmade bookcase from Jonathan would be cherished.
He almost laughed out loud as he closed his eyes, listening to the drama on television and the relaxed, matter-of-fact talk when the commercial came on.
He would never have believed himself to be so domestic, so…so Middle America out here in the middle of Kansas.
He shivered a little at the touch of Clark’s fingers on the back of his neck.
God, how did he get so lucky?
& & & & & &
After the program finished, Jonathan and Martha said their goodnights and a yawning Dick decided to go to bed, too.
“Must be all the fresh air,” he teased Clark as he came over for a hug.
Clark mussed his hair. “Brat.”
Dick giggled and hugged Bruce, then disappeared up the stairs to the guest room that was pretty much his now.
Clark kissed the top of Bruce’s head. “He’s a good boy.”
“The best.”
Clark went back to stroking his hair while Bruce felt tingly.
They watched the news briefly, then Clark switched the channel to a late-night showing of Seinfeld. Bruce decided on a final chocolate, his hand hovering over a square one.
“You don’t want that one.”
“Why not?”
“It’s got a coffee center. Not one of your favorites.”
“You’re X-raying my chocolates?!”
He could hear the grin in Clark’s voice. “Well, sure.”
“That’s why you kept getting all the best ones!”
Bruce was up in an instant and looming over Clark, who was laughing too hard to pull any superspeed tricks. Bruce was on top of him, wrestling with indignation and they both rolled off the couch.
“Bruuuce!”
Bruce quieted any further laughter by sticking his tongue down Clark’s throat. The shaking body below him turned from mirth to lust, and before Bruce knew what hit him, he was gathered in strong arms and flown up the stairs to Clark’s room.
They were hovering just above the bed, the lamp on the dresser lending a golden glow, Clark stripping them of their clothes and casually tossing them to the floor, then raining kisses all over Bruce’s face and throat, wet and passionate over his chest and stomach.
Bruce wrapped his legs around Clark, shuddering as their cocks touched, and Clark’s glasses were gone and otherworldly blue eyes were looking at him with stars-strewn-in- sapphire.
Bruce’s heart pounded and he pressed his lips to Clark’s, who responded with all the fervor of the love they shared.
Slowly, Clark rotated them around-and-around, a floating dance in the air that was gentle and amazing and joyous all at once.
Clark’s hands slid down to cup Bruce’s buttocks, squeezing lightly and Bruce laced his fingers around Clark’s neck.
“I love you,” he whispered.
Stars lit up and Clark whispered back, “I love you, too.”
Bruce moaned softly as Clark prepared him with the cream from the jar in the nightstand, sliding in gently, then not-so-gently as he maintained their hovering. In, out, in, out, waves of pleasure washing over Bruce and the snow outside muffling all sound, sound inside this bedroom muffled so as not to wake the house, and tightness, hotness, a filling of body and heart and mind…
Love burst in him, and Clark’s seed coated him inside while he spattered over his lover’s belly and thighs, Clark purring deep in his throat and sealing them together as the snow sparkled outside.
