Bruce was up all night, that was normal, but instead of obsessively monitoring the computer for impending clown themed genocide or even the more minor art theft he usually thwarted, he was watching Superman clips.
His eyes, full of both a dark lust and immeasurable fondness, roamed the hard angles of Clark's muscular physique as he effortlessly lifted enormous obstacles. He saved trapped civilians, cleared roads, and single handedly raised the frames for new houses. It was awe inspiring.
It inspired something else too and Bruce sank down to rest his head in his hands, willing the shameful heat between his legs to calm down. The last thing he wanted was one of his kids or, god forbid, Alfred to catch him stiff in a communal space.
"The batcave is for crime fighting, not self pleasure." He remembers lecturing a young Jason, whom he had caught playing porn on the giant computer monitors.
He didn't want-
A hand lands on his shoulder and he turns around so abruptly he almost falls out of the chair.
Speak of the Devil.
Jason stood there, a look of concern flickering to confusion and then bursting into a taunting grin.
"Well, well, well," he drug out the silence between words to wring the most discomfort out of Bruce. His eyes flick knowingly between Bruce and the screen. He seemed to size up multiple things he wanted to say, settling for a simple, "hypocrite." and smug smile.
Bruce sputtered, very undignified, before summoning all of his Batman composure. "did you need something?"
Smooth. Real smooth.
Jason shakes his head, disappointed he couldn't get a better reaction, and leans against the desk beside Bruce.
"Stopped by for some suit repairs and to have tea with Alfred. He wanted me to tell you he got the
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The Fake Boyfriend
FanfictionBruce Wayne needs a way to divert the media from connecting his alter ego to him, and when a cute but poor reporter stumbles into his life- Bruce makes an offer he can't refuse. (This idea came to me in a dream) I don't own the art or characters.