063. Self-conscious



As soon as he pokes his head out of Bruce's limo, John Blake meets face-to-face with the blinding white lights of Gotham's tabloid paparazzi.

"Oh no," he mutters, crawling back. A sudden, cold stab of terror wells up in his chest. "No, no."

Bruce adjusts his diamond cuff-links and then smooths his hands over John's suit-shoulders for any wrinkles.

"It'll be fine," Bruce insists coolly, mindful of John's pleading look. "You are my guest to the Wayne Foundation's banquet. Say as little as possible to the other investors and I guarantee you that it will go over as we planned."

"That's really great and all, but when I-I'm nervous, I start talking," John blurts out, awkwardly laughing, "a-and when I start talking, I—"

A pleasantly neutral-faced Bruce reaches across him as John rambles on, carefully shutting the limo's door and hushes him, touching his mouth briefly, dotingly over John's halfway forming a new word.

It's not enough. John's nervousness dissolves into a pure, raging want. He cups Bruce's finely shaved and cologned nape and kisses Bruce a little bit more generously than he's offered, sliding inside and moaning softly and breathlessly, lathing his tongue over Bruce's until John feels relaxed.

"You can do this," Bruce reminds him with a faint, knowing grin, pulling out of the kiss and wiping off his lips with a napkin, handing it politely to John.

When the limo-door reopens, Bruce exits first, nodding once to the photographers and tabloid journalists screaming over each other for him. Encased in the blinding white light, he offers out his hand, and John takes it gladly, smiling.



Nolanverse isn't mine. IDK what it is with me and shipping Bruce with younger men but HERE WE ARE ONCE AGAIN woohoo thoughts/comments appreciated!