The lines on his face are deeper than yesterday. Looking at him now, bathed in the soft light of the chandelier hanging over our heads, I notice how his shoulders slump, as if he alone carries the weight of the world.
“You should eat,” I say.
He picks at his dinner. “Too tired to lift the fork.”
I watch him push bits of food around his plate until I can’t stand it anymore. His brow furrows as he watches me set my fork aside, stand, and walk around the vast table to where he is sitting.
“Scoot your chair back a bit.”
I do it for him, although moving his bulk even a foot is a challenge. The expression on his face when I sit on his lap makes me chuckle. I pick up his fork, stab a piece of steak and hold it to his lips.
“Be a good boy and open up.”
“Seriously, you’re going to feed me? Like I’m an infant? Have you lost your mind?”
He tries to push me off his lap, but I am not budging. I put my free arm around his heavy shoulders and trace his lips with the chunk of perfectly grilled filet.
“Face it, big guy, you need taking care of.”
“You’re a brat.” He takes the meat, chewing slowly while glaring at me. Slowly, methodically, I feed him until his plate is empty.
“Wine?” I ask, picking up his glass.
“I can do it myself.” He plucks the glass from my hand and drains every drop. “Okay, I’m finished. You can get off me now.”
“I don’t think you’re finished.” I lift my hand from the back of his chair and slowly stroke his hair. “I think you’re still hungry.”
His eyes narrow, but not in anger. A different emotion roils beneath that steely exterior. We’ve worked together for two years, lived under the same roof for six months, but I’ve never made a move.
Holding the back of his head, I lean in for a kiss. When our lips meet, a low growl rumbles in his throat, and I know for certain: he wants this as much as I do. I deepen the kiss, feeling a surge of white hot lust when our tongues touch. Grinding against his lap, I can’t help but wonder what Alfred would think if he happened to walk into the dining room to take our plates.
He pulls away and stares into my eyes for an eternity before whispering, “How did you know?”
“I found the video you took of me in the shower.”
“What? I did no such thing.”
“Bruce, use some of your billions to buy yourself a sense of humor.” I pat his cheek. “I see the way you look at me.”
His smirk says it all. He finds me a bit vain. “Oh, really? And how do I look at you?”
“Like a hungry dog.” I turn his head and whisper in his ear. “Let me fill you up, full and deep. I’ll make all that hunger go away.”
I can almost hear something break inside him, something that’s been locked down tight for way too long. We stop to kiss on the way to my room, the one that’s down the hall from his. Once the door is locked behind us, we claw at each other’s clothing.
“This body, this fucking body.” I squeeze his muscular pecs before tugging down his boxer briefs. “Show me that dick, I want to suck it.”
“Later. Right now, I want it. I need it.” His voice is tight, as if on the verge of tears.
“Okay, lover, okay. Take off the rest of your clothes and get on the bed. Face down, ass up.”
I know what he wants, what he needs. Gotham’s savior needs to be saved. Saved by being held down and fucked hard, until every muscle relaxes in sweet release. Only then will I cover him in sweet kisses, loving him tenderly until he melts for me.
But first, I’m going to fuck him until the only weight he feels against his shoulders is mine.
I undress, watching him on the bed. Bruce is all muscle and scars, with the dewy ass of a much younger man. He pushes that ass up and begs me to hurry. As much as I want to spread him open and bury my face between his smooth cheeks, I know rimming has to wait. Some guys don’t want foreplay, or priming, they just want to be plugged full and fast with a hard dick.
Bruce is one of those guys.
After rolling on a condom and lubing up, I kneel between his spread legs and ask if he’s ready, even though I know he is, just to hear him utter another sexy growl.
“Here it comes, baby.” I tease his opening with the tip of my dick before pushing halfway in. I stop and wait for him to adjust.
“Fuck, that’s big.”
“Now you know why the press calls me the Boy Wonder,” I say as I smack his ass.
He laughs, a deep chortle that sounds rusty. “Shut up and fuck me, you cocky son of a bitch.”
I drive deep, pumping into his warmth. He clenches around me, desperate to swallow every inch. “Relax, lover. You’re going to snap my dick off.”
“I can’t help it.” He pants. “Feels so fucking good.”
“How about I just lay here for a second. Let you feel me inside.” I press myself against his body, resting my head gently against the back of his. My cock throbs inside him and he sighs. “You like that?”
“You’re in me so deep. Fuck. I didn’t know how much I wanted this.”
“Am I your first?” I begin to pump again, soft and slow.
“Who’s been in here before me? Aquaman? Tell me it was Aquaman.” The thought of those two hunks having at each other revs my engine. I fuck him harder.
“I wish … oh, yeah, fuck that ass … I wish it was … damn, kid … Aquaman.”
He laughs again. “Shut up and fuck me!”
I fuck him fast and hard while he groans and pushes his face into the pillow. No matter how hard I drill him, he just begs for more. I hold myself up with one hand, and plant the other between his shoulder blades, holding him down. He groans his approval, pushing his ass up against my hips.
“Harder. I’m going to come.”
I grab his hair and pull his head back. “Say my name.”
“Robin.” He says it louder. “Robin. Fuck me. Fuck me!”
Hearing my name blare from his mouth while I fuck him almost makes me come, and it’s all I can do to hold back, but I won’t give in to my own needs until I satisfy his. And I finally do. His body goes rigid while he cries out in release.
I’m still pumping when he says, “Take off the rubber and shoot your load in me.”
Frantic to come and desperate to please him, I pull out, and peel off the condom. I manage to get just the tip inside his tight ass before losing control. “Oh, shit, sorry.”
“No, I love it. You’re dripping all over me.”
I collapse against his back. Pulling him close, I roll back slightly until we are both on our sides. “I didn’t know you liked it wet. Next time, I won’t use a sleeve.”
“Next time? Who do you think you are, Boy Wonder, my boyfriend?”
Rubbing his chest, I kiss the back of his neck. “Yes. Yes, I do.”
Even though I can’t see his face, I can tell by his tone that he’s smiling. “And, are we to be exclusive?” he asks.
“Yeah, of course.”
“Okay, but just so you know, if Aquaman comes knocking, I won’t turn him down.”
“Fine. As long as I get to watch.”
Bruce rolls over and strokes his fingers across my chest. “Are you tired?”
“Not a bit.”
“Good. Because I’m still hungry.”
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PS: I’ve had a few readers ask which version of Batman I had in my head when I wrote this. And the answer is Christian Bale, the only man worthy of wearing the cape. Also, please don’t sue me, DC Comics, I’m just a poor writer looking for a cheap thrill.