Just a short story because I was bored and tired ;}
Gotham's morning
Gotham's morning may be pink, but her evenings are streaked in purple.
Strands of pink begin to thread through the sky, stretching like aching fingers to wrap itself around the sleeping city of Gotham.
Bruce wipes the tempting tendrils of sleep from his eyes and directs his gaze to the now empty side of the bed. His heart beats briefly, the night before still fresh on his skin. He runs a hand over the back of his neck, fingers trailing down to touch the tender flesh of his collar where lipstain and teethmarks mingle with cuts and bruises.
A soft breeze carries through Bruce's open window and brings with it the scent of the previous occupant of his bed.
A note is taped to the window, fluttering softly on the tail of the wind. In a sprawling jagged mixture of cursive and print is the explanation for his lover's absence.
Duty calls.
Leave the window unlocked, darling.
I'll be back before morning.
♡ Jack ^3^
The gentle cast of the setting sun paints the backs of Jack's stark white calves a gentle lavender as the sun dips below the cityscape. He lays sated beside Bruce, in nothing but one of Bruce's old t-shirts. The dark haired man says nothing, just ghosts his hand from the sloping arch of Jack's foot to the joint of his hip.
Emerald green eyes flutter open, and Jack begins to smile blissfully at Bruce through a curtain of green hair.
"I hate you."
"I know." Bruce snorts softly, pressing a kiss to the crown of the other man's head.
"Would Alfred be mad if I made pancakes?" The shorter man questions quietly, trying to look up at Bruce.
The other man chuckles, and shakes his head. "As long as you put on some pants, I don't think he'd mind."
