So... daemons. Animal of a different gender from yours = your soul. Tag one of the characters on here with a starter, post your own with or without a request for one of mine or play here as you like.
Bruce huffs out a laugh. "I don't like it styled either. I have to affect a certain degree of greasy jerk, though." The slicked-back Bruce Wayne look is distinctive of pure douchebaggery. It helps cultivate the image of everything he's not.
With unnerving ninja accuracy, Bruce reaches up and delicately removes Clark's glasses. He brings them down to run his fingers over the frames and eventually slip them on himself. Hm.
Clark smiles at that before taking the opportunity provided by missing his glasses to lean in and start pressing soft kisses at the back of Bruce's jaw, at his hairline, and can't help the soft sound of satisfaction as his arms give a small squeeze.
"I think they're charming on you," Bruce says without trying to turn around - a little too much wiggling, given their positions, and he's comfortable. "When you aren't ruining your posture."
He knows the body language is so much more of the disguise than the glasses, for all his occasional ragging on them. But the few times he's seen Clark properly dressed, standing tall, with the glasses and boyish smile still... who thought the sweetheart Midwestern act would ever get to Bruce Wayne? And yet here we are.
"Thankfully, my posture is hard to ruin," Clark points out with a little smile as he continues the kisses. He's got you in his grasp now, Bruce. What will you ever do with this wealth of kisses?
"And I suppose they have... some charm." A tilt of his head. "It's not like I can argue with your aesthetic sense."
"Mmm." He's going to really enjoy these kisses, that's what. He even tilts his head back to facilitate it - the arm of Clark's glasses bump on something and Bruce huffs a quiet laugh before slipping them off and tucking them into the collar of his own shirt.
With his head tilted back, there's some neck to work with now, and he takes advantage in the gentlest sort of way. Clark can't help it a little bit of the reverberation from his words flutters across the skin just below Bruce's jaw.
"You like elegance, huh?" Bruce makes a low, contended sound. "Hopefully I'm not ruining my own image climbing trees with you." 'Even black' is a little funny, as that's more or less all he wears. Maybe he doesn't look elegant in anything but, no one will ever know.
"You even climb trees elegantly," he counters with a shake of his head. No, Bruce, you've definitely not ruined your image.
"Elegance isn't in what you do. It's in how you do it. And you do everything," and this final sentence, like each of the others, is further punctuated by a kiss, "everything so gracefully."
It's only as final as he can keep himself from kissing again, which is why another kiss comes, and another sentence.
"And with poise."
One hand slides out to settle over Bruce's, and they're of a size, though Clark's fingers are a little wider and a little shorter than his.
Long bones and strong gloves; Bruce's hands go through so much punishment and he has to put so much time in effort into taking care of them. So easily, one night in Gotham's streets could bring an end to engineering and surgery and being able to run his fingers over Clark's. He's going to have such awful arthritis, if he lives long enough.
"You're going to spoil me with talk like that," he murmurs. And then, "You like my hands." An observation.
"Rotten," he agrees with absolute seriousness. And absolute delight. He's looking forward to it. He intends to spoil Bruce as much as he can. The man is in need of some honest spoiling that has nothing to do with the material.
"And yes, I do. I like your hands quite a lot. They're... mesmerizing, honestly. I love watching you work."
Mesmerizing. Bruce feels his cheeks heat up again slightly and wrestles internally with that kneejerk reaction-- he'll need to work on it. He's had such an impeccable handle on things like that and now Clark's throwing him off his game with one evening. And morning. And one confession-- alright, so it's not such a little thing, but still. Batman shouldn't be blushing.
"If I didn't have to go out tonight I'd never let you out of my bedroom."
Bruce twists enough to be able to place a kiss on the underside of Clark's jaw, turning to nuzzle into his throat. He lets out a breath, settling his eager nerves. He feels like-- there's just not enough time, right now, if they get going, he doesn't want to stop. And Dick's going to come home from school, and he has things for the company, and then out tonight.
Sometime. Hopefully soon. If they don't run out of patience before then.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
no subject
With unnerving ninja accuracy, Bruce reaches up and delicately removes Clark's glasses. He brings them down to run his fingers over the frames and eventually slip them on himself. Hm.
no subject
"Bet they look better on you than me."
no subject
He knows the body language is so much more of the disguise than the glasses, for all his occasional ragging on them. But the few times he's seen Clark properly dressed, standing tall, with the glasses and boyish smile still... who thought the sweetheart Midwestern act would ever get to Bruce Wayne? And yet here we are.
no subject
"And I suppose they have... some charm." A tilt of his head. "It's not like I can argue with your aesthetic sense."
no subject
"My what? All black, all the time?"
no subject
"You make everything elegant. Even black."
no subject
no subject
"Elegance isn't in what you do. It's in how you do it. And you do everything," and this final sentence, like each of the others, is further punctuated by a kiss, "everything so gracefully."
It's only as final as he can keep himself from kissing again, which is why another kiss comes, and another sentence.
"And with poise."
One hand slides out to settle over Bruce's, and they're of a size, though Clark's fingers are a little wider and a little shorter than his.
no subject
"You're going to spoil me with talk like that," he murmurs. And then, "You like my hands." An observation.
no subject
"And yes, I do. I like your hands quite a lot. They're... mesmerizing, honestly. I love watching you work."
no subject
"If I didn't have to go out tonight I'd never let you out of my bedroom."
For.. the record.
no subject
no subject
Sometime. Hopefully soon. If they don't run out of patience before then.
no subject
He lets his fingers slip between Bruce's and give a little squeeze.
This is not just for today.