Summary: Wally has a point to prove.
Warning: Slash. PWP actually. NSFW and stuff like that. Use of the F-word.
Dedication: to CodenameEternity. Because she has officially converted me. And because she requested it. And because she's just that plain awesome.
Note: Haha. Writing smut is /so/ incredibly corny. I really can't get over myself XD Also, I did giggle like the schoolgirl I am at typing the 'fun' words. -laughs- There is a chance I'm slightly pathetic.
The meeting goes like it always does.
Bruce explains the plan.
Wally mocks the plan.
Bruce explains the importance of the plan.
Wally mocks the importance of the plan.
Bruce calls Wally a moron in a very creative and peculiar way.
Wally calls Bruce a prick in a very creative and peculiar way.
Bruce says, lives are at stake here, we have to be prepared.
Wally says, you can't control everything.
Bruce says, yes, yes I can.
Wally says, no, no, you can't.
Clark gets really tired of them and knows this can go on for hours so he tells them, very politely of course, to either get a room or shut up and do something useful.
Bruce looks away, to the right.
Wally looks away, to the left.
. . .
The meeting ends like it always does.
Bruce is left seething over Wally's childishness.
Wally is left wondering over Bruce's control issues.
. . .
The way home doesn't go like it always does.
Bruce gets on the Bat-plane, weary and tired, sits down, starts the plane and starts the long flight home.
He sighs and leans back when -
His right hand is pulled back and handcuffed to the armrest.
His left hand is pulled back and handcuffed to the armrest.
Both his feet are now cuffed.
All of this happens in a second, so fast Bruce doesn't even have time to curse underneath his breathe or realise what is happening.
He realises someone is quietly laughing. He's relieved it isn't any kind of psychotic laugh.
He hears the sound of the plane being set to autopilot and looks at the controls. In front of him is Wally, smirking almost evilly, legs spread apart, a foot on each side of him. He waves innocently.
"West, I don't know what you're trying to do, but if you stop right now, I might not feel entirely obligated to castrate you when I get free," Bruce snaps darkly.
Wally sniggers in response, leaning closer, legs still apart, as he says: "Seems to me you're in no position to make any threats."
Bruce decides not to dignify that with a response but rather to prove him wrong as he tries to get out of the handcuffs, but finds himself pretty distracted by the way the fabric of Wally's skin-tight costume clings to the area between his legs rather suggestively. He looks in his eyes instead, but that's also a mistake, because the look in Wally's eyes, cowl pushed back, is predatory and the smile around his lips is everything but innocent.
Also. The cuffs don't open as easy as they should. And that is just plain wrong.
"Oh, right, those handcuffs: Designed by you. You know, to capture people like you," Wally grins nonchalantly, like he hasn't just cuffed Bruce to a chair. Which he did.
Bruce stares at Wally.
Wally stares at Bruce.
Bruce has a very manly and controlled yanking session with the cuffs.
"Seems you did a pretty good job!" Wally beams.
"Get me out of these now."
"Ah, you see, I can't do that," Wally says as he absentmindedly traces fingers across the line of his sternum, lowering down his chest, down his abs and Bruce can't help but follow the fingers down, down, down and over his legs and Bruce wants it to be his fingers tracing his skin and imagines the heat and -
Focus, Bruce. Focus, damnit. He hates Wally for being so damn sexy.
"And why is that?" he asks leaning back defiantly.
"I have a point to prove," Wally says in a voice that sends shivers down Bruce's spine, despite his best efforts to not let this get to him.
Wally hops off the control board and sits down on his lap, still smirking. Bruce pointedly ignores him.
"There is a point to all this? Please do enlighten me," he says, as sarcastic as he can.
By now, Wally has a knee nestled on each side of him, between his thighs and the armrests. Bruce is getting a close up of the lightening bolt of Wally's chest. And some ridiculously defined muscles. Wally unclasps the cape and cowl and drops it to the ground.
Wally leans closer then, until he's breathing down in Bruce's ear and then, in a voice so low and husky Bruce wonders if it's still Wally, he says: "That not being in control can be good too."
Sure, it is. He opens his mouth to deliver some very witty and very clever comeback, but then Wally's tongue is in his ear and he sort of forgets that he was going to say anything at all. He closes his mouth quickly to keep for gasping and sinks his teeth in his lip. Replies are overrated anyway, he will get his point across by glaring... Into space.
Wally licks his way down to Bruce's throat and Bruce really means to do anything but lean his head to the right, giving Wally better access to the sensitive skin, but somehow his body isn't quite cooperating. He closes his eyes as Wally kisses and licks and sucks and he's kind of grateful that at least Wally's using his mouth for better things than talking. And if anyone ever asks, there is not a single proof in the world that he just thought that.
Things are always better when Wally shuts up. Really.
Because Wally is childish and reckless and -
Wally bites down hard where his neck and his shoulder meet and Bruce might have made a little moaning sound at that. He decides he didn't.
He can feel Wally's smirk against his skin, which then turns into a quiet laugh, as Wally rests his forehead against the mark he just made. Then he leans back on Bruce's lap, almost to the point of sitting on his knees and grins. It's incredibly and annoyingly sexy.
Bruce wishes his eyes could shoot lasers, too, but Clark is an asshole like that.
"Enjoying yourself?" Wally asks innocently, shuffling closer again.
"Thinking of ways how to disembowel you is rather pleasing, yes," he smiles back meanly.
"That is a really weird kind of fetish, Bruce," Wally frowns as he grins. "You should see a shrink for that."
Bruce ignores that comment and instead tries to get out of the cuffs once more. He tries to ignore the fact that Wally's stuff is pressed against his chest and he's hard. He feels an involuntary tug beneath the waist at that though and suddenly concentrating is the hardest thing in the world. Then he makes the mistake of looking down and his knowledge about opening cuffs is officially shot into space. Beyond space when Wally laughs huskily, noticing what Bruce is staring at. He doesn't say anything, for which Bruce is kinda grateful. Some part of Bruce's mind is telling him to look away, because, for fuck's sake, there is this thing called dignity and hadn't he made up his mind about not being pulled into this? There's a whole other part of him, though, that just wants to keep looking. The latter wins. Wally rubs himself against Bruce's chest and even though the moan he makes at that is quiet and muffled, it makes Bruce ache.
The moment changes. It's not a joke anymore.
He isn't completely sure why it does, because he's known from the beginning Wally was going to push this whole thing over a line he really shouldn't, because he's Wally and knows nothing of limitations and borders. This is inescapable.
But. Maybe this whole thing was inescapable.
They were meant to fuck at some point. Bruce knows these kind of things. He really does.
And perhaps, just perhaps, he also wants to realise this.
He looks up again and then leans up as far as he can, the tips of his boots against the ground. Wally makes a surprised sound and clings to Bruce's shoulders for dear life. Bruce is happy the chair is nailed to the floor, because he's pretty sure they would have fallen over if not.
Wally's lips are close enough to touch now because of the way he's clinging to Bruce and that's exactly what Bruce does. Wally doesn't need any time to adjust to that, or maybe he did, but it went by too fast for Bruce too notice, but either way it doesn't matter.
Bruce sucks Wally's tongue in his mouth and Wally mewls at that, a high-pitched sound full of want and need and more. Bruce leans back in the chair and Wally follows the movement swiftly, pressing himself up against him, until Bruce has to lay his head on his shoulder to keep kissing Wally. Which he does. They don't break the kiss for a single moment as Wally keeps making sounds in his mouth and Bruce just wants to keep Wally right there, but his lungs are ruining everything, so he leans back for a moment.
Just to breathe. Heavily. Damn that.
Wally smiles, a mix between aroused and amused, and just looks at Bruce for a little while and he's not used to that. It's him observing everyone, him in the shadows and Wally in the light, not the other way around. He shivers underneath Wally and he knows he felt that. There is a sparkle in Wally's green eyes he can't identify, the kind of sparkle he could analyse for years and never discover its true meaning, like a philosopher searching for the absolute truth.
He looks back as if he's not impressed.
"I feel like I should have cuffed you to a chair earlier," Wally grins. "This is fun."
"Enjoy it while you can," Bruce retorts.
Wally grin grows wider, all cat-like and beautifully wild. He slowly brings a hand to trace the lines of his lips, licking his own, up his cheek and over the lines of his ear, to end up at the back of his neck. He dips his head to Bruce's lips again and then just hovers there for a little. It takes every ounce of self-control from Bruce not to close the gap between them. Then, all of sudden, Wally licks Bruce's lipsinstead of kisses, and that shouldn't be nearly as hot as it is. Bruce opens his mouth to let a breath escape and Wally uses that opportunity to lick his way inside his mouth and the kiss that follows is open and hot and wet and sloppy and Bruce yanks at the cuffs again. He makes a frustrated noise when they don't give in at all. He doesn't think he's ever been so annoyed at cuffs, ever. Wally grins against his lips, doing this thing with his tongue that makes Bruce swallow back another, less frustrated noise and tugs a little at his black hair, caught up in the moment. He tugs harder when Bruce bites down his lip, hard, as punishment for the cuffs.
It hurts a little and Bruce can't decide whether that makes it hotter or not. Perhaps he just doesn't want to. Wally's hands are everywhere now, it seems, as he licks the skin of Bruce's neck again. Bruce concentrates on not yanking the cuffs again and gives up trying to hold back the moans and sighs that want to escape so badly. It's not like Wally's being quiet about this. He's just as vocal as he always is.
Wally leans back again and Bruce can't help but raise an eyebrow when he starts pounding him on the chest and making frustrated, angry noises.
"Don't look at me like that!" Wally protests. "It's annoying!" He pouts and looks positively put out, for the first time. Studies him. Gives up. "Argh! I can't find out how to get that damn suit off at fucking all!"
"Designed it that way," Bruce admits.
"I don't. Fucking. Care." Wally hisses, fidgeting like a kid that doesn't know what to do with itself. "I want to be naked quite badly, but I can't be naked before you are, because then I'll just defeat the purpose of my point. So get. Naked. Now."
"That is some very flawed logic," Bruce stalls, just because he can.
Wally is not amused. He reaches for the utility belt and somehow manages to dodge the first few electric shocks, jumping off Bruce's lap, and gets it off. More fiddling and he opens the pouch, getting out a batarang. Studies that as well.
"That should cut through it, right?" he asks innocently and makes a move for Bruce.
Now it's Bruce's turn to be not amused.
"No. No, you don't. You are not cutting through this suit, West!"
"But! It needs to get off! And you won't tell me because you're evil like that!"
"You cut through it and I swear I'll make your life a living hell."
"You already do, Brucie, trust me on that one," Wally drops the belt to the ground. "Tell me how to get it off then."
Bruce tells him and he's trying very hard not to think of what that means. Wally is still smiling like a kid in a candy shop and Bruce's mind really doesn't want to there.
"Lift your hips," Wally commands and begrudgingly, Bruce complies. Wally is still smiling and he slides the protective, darker coloured cup off, throwing it thoughtlessly on the ground. Even before Bruce hears it hits the floor, Wally slips his hand in his pants and his tongue in his mouth again. Bruce makes a few muffled sounds of protest, more out of the suddenness than actual protest. Wally, however, doesn't seem to care.
Bruce gasps when Wally smirks as he slowly jerks him off. Wally stops kissing him then, looking straight at him and using his other hand to pull get rid of the fabric covering Bruce's chest as best as he can. Wally looks very frustrated when he realises he can't completely undress Bruce because of the cuffs, but Bruce doesn't really notice.
He's too busy trying not to squirm and make an awful lot of noise as Wally strokes and teases, like he doesn't even realise he's doing it. He's absentmindedly biting his lower lip, thoughtfully looking at the way the suit refuses to go off and then kind of forgets where his hand is. It's just there, but he's not really doing anything and Bruce really wants for Wally to do a lot of things and -
"Wally! At least pay attention when you're doing things like this."
Wally is shaken out of his reverie. "I want the suit off. Completely."
Bruce wants, quite badly, to slit Wally's throat. He opts for a small smile, instead. "I'm sure it will come off if you uncuff me."
Wally grins victoriously. "Almost got me there, Bruce."
"Worth a try."
The remark seems lost on Wally, who suddenly remembers where his hand is and what the point of all this was and Bruce recognises the little smile on his face, right before Wally starts concentrating.
Bruce wishes he had kept his mouth shut. Instead, he rests his forehead on Wally's steady shoulder and squeezes his eyes shut, concentrating on not losing himself in this. He knows he could. He knows he could so easily, because Wally's hand on him, Wally's eyes, sparkling with concentrating and arousal, Wally's warmth and hell he's good at this, too. He's like he always is, carefree and as if he doesn't understand people put a lot of effort into learning how to do things, but just doing them. Giving everything he got and maybe a little more, just because he can. He doesn't do anything out of obligation, his one hand in his pants, his other hand over his chest, his lips there too, over hardened nipples and sweaty skin and it's a lot more than Bruce can handle. Always has been.
He swallows back Wally's name in the back of throat and just gasps for air instead.
"I always thought you would be the quiet type," Wally says conversationally, as if he isn't making Bruce tremble and shiver in his hands, completely at his mercy, keeping himself from begging with all the strength he has. "But you're actually making an awful lot of noise." A laugh then and Bruce knows it'll haunt him like nothing else ever does. "Maybe I'm just that good."
"I'll -" he gasps and forgets what exactly it was he wanted to say. Starts again. "I know where you live." Bruce turns the moan that wants to get out into a hiss. "I know your security system leaves much to be desired."
"Now, that, is just a grave violation of my privacy," Wally says, the smirk audible in his voice.
"I think your hand in my pants is a grave violation of my privacy," Bruce fires back, keeping his eyes from rolling to the back of his head as Wally rubs his thumb over the tip.
"Oh well, guess I should stop then," Wally gives in as he leans back, tracing the hand that was only seconds ago expertly jerking Bruce off over his obscenely swollen lips.
Bruce tries very hard not to find that incredibly hot, but also pretty much fails, so he growls instead: "You get that hand back where it belongs right now or I'll -"
Wally laughs evilly. "You really do need to make up your mind, Bruce. I'm getting mixed signals here."
"You really do need to shut your mouth," Bruce deadpans.
"I could do more fun things with my mouth than just shut it," Wally smirks, licking his lips as he slowly sinks to his knees, sliding his hands over Bruce's legs, pulling off the fabric as good as he can.
"No," Bruce protests even as he feels a shiver of anticipation travel up his spine, because this is still about control and he knows. He knows that if he lets Wally do this, if he allows this for himself, he won't be able to deny it ever again. He knows he won't ever want anything else anymore and he's sick and tired of wanting what he can't have. "I think this is quite enough. You proved your point. Let me go." Just seeing Wally kneeled between his legs, eyes locking with his, his intentions as clearly as his amusement, makes Bruce bite back moans.
"Well, we'll do this just for fun then," Wally shrugs the comment off.
"Fine. It would be rather heartless to deny someone his last wish." He intends for this to come out as a threat, but he's too busy concentrating on not giving in and groaning out loudly as Wally flicks his tongue over the tip of his erection. He knows he should close his eyes, because he can't look at Wally like this, really shouldn't. But Wally looks so devastatingly handsome with his sexual grin and his eyes full of lust and joy. He licks at Bruce's erection, not wrapping his lips around it just yet and Bruce yanks at the cuffs, wanting to grab Wally's head and just fuck his way down his throat. Wally finally takes him in his mouth, as far as he can, maybe for the effort.
Bruce grabs the armrests so tightly he knows his knuckles are turning white underneath the gloves. He closes his eyes again, not by choice, but by necessity. He opens them again, seconds later, to find Wally looking up at him still. There is something incredibly hot about seeing Wally suck him off like this, looking up at him like this time knowing he's doing it, liking it, lust in his half-lidded eyes like a colour. That alone is almost enough to send him over the edge, but he wills himself not to. He closes his eyes again, because it's too much and control… Control is a laughable concept. He's not in control of anything, he can't even stop the noises from spilling over his lips, can't even stop himself from breathing out Wally's name like some kind of mantra. He yanks at the handcuffs again, struggles against them until it hurts.
"Wally," he hisses in warning. "I -"
Wally leans back again, licking his lips and Bruce hates him. So bloody badly. Wally grins.
"You little -" Bruce starts, the words out before he knows it. He's too close to the edge to care and all he wants now is to be pushed over, so he can fall and pretend he'll never hit the ground. He needs Wally for that.
Wally laughs, darkly. "Not yet," he says then and it sounds like he's explaining something, apologising almost and then he gets up his feet, strips down quickly and seeing Wally completely naked (and God, he's beautiful) against the outline of the earth is almost surreal. Like perhaps this is just another dream (because yes, yes, he had those dreams, more often than he would like to admit. Though usually it wasn't him cuffed like this) and he would wake up soon, his sheets wet and he'd be embarrassed about it like he's never embarrassed about anything and -
Wally slips a finger inside himself, closing his eyes as he stretches himself and Bruce knows what he's going to do and -
Wally gives him a smile and gets on his lap again. Bruce tries not to struggle against the cuffs, but he wants to touch so badly, the need and want is slowly devouring every rational brain cell in his mind. Because this is Wally and everyone knows Wally will, eventually, be the death of him.
Wally places one of his hands on Bruce's shoulders, to steady himself, the most concentrated of looks on his face, then with the other guides Bruce into him, just a little. Bruce moans. Loudly. Yes, well. Whatever. He prides himself in knowing his limits and this is it. This is where all control fades. This is where he tosses it out of the window of a fifty-storey building and watches it splash on the ground.
Wally lowers himself, slowly, moaning loudly, his face distorted in a little discomfort, but a whole lot of lust and pleasure and Bruce can't for the life of him recall a better sight. Wally is impossibly hot and tight and enthusiastic, as he lowers himself all the way down, sitting on Bruce's thighs, with Bruce buried deep into him.
"Oh, fuck," Wally gasps, clinging to Bruce's shoulder for dear life, green eyes still locked with blue, bringing his other hand down and stroking himself. "This is - just."
Bruce is almost relieved he isn't the only one whose coherence decided to stand at the side line and mock him a little. Wally gets up again, the chair squeaking with strain and he lowers his head, resting it on Bruce's shoulder like Bruce had been doing with him before. Kisses his neck, panting against it.
Sinks down again.
"So, is this the only thing in the world you decide would be fun to do slowly?" Bruce moans in frustration, his lungs burning for air that won't come.
Wally doesn't need anymore encouragement and quickly pushes himself up, then lowers himself, pushes himself up, lowers himself until it's a fluid motion, a movement in which Bruce can't distinguish up from down and right from wrong. He feels his body thrust against his will, rocking up to meet Wally, following him up and down, as fast as he can, and he can't keep up, but that's okay, too.
They're not in perfect balance, they're not in perfect harmony, but hell it's a thousand times better like this. It shouldn't be, but it is.
Wally pants his name against his neck, again and again, so fast it becomes a strange sound rather than a word, but Bruce knows it's his name. He knows this. Recognises the hitch in Wally's voice.
Wally comes all over his stomach, screaming his name and sinking his nails so deep into the exposed skin of his shoulder than Bruce knows it'll show.
This, and the way Wally clenches around him is enough to make him come, as well. He knows he could hold it off, but he also knows that he'll just go crazy like that, that he'll always want more, more of Wally, more of his warmth and his twisted kind of innocence. He'll never stop wanting this. Just this.
Wally slowly pushes himself up again, letting Bruce slip out and gives him a tired smile.
"I made a bit of a mess of your costume there," he apologises, but he doesn't sound like he's sorry at all. He shouldn't be.
Bruce ignores it and just tries to catch his breath. They stay silent for a while, both of them needing to catch a little grip with reality again, until Bruce says: "Can you uncuff me now. I'll need to land this plane later on."
"Only if you promise you won't kill me on the spot," Wally argues.
"Fine. I'll kill you when you get home," Bruce promises.
Wally uncuffs him. Bruce hits him in the face, straight in the eye. Just because he can. Because he has to.
"What the hell?" Wally protests.
Bruce tries to redress himself as good as he can. He rubs his cape over the stain so it's less visible.
"You deserved some kind of immediate punishment."
"You're impossible," Wally smiles a little as he says it.
Bruce pretends he doesn't see it. It's easier that way.
Wally crawls on his lap again. Bruce pushes him away, but Wally won't let him. Never does.
"Oh come on. Just until we land, okay? Don't be this much of a hypocrite," Wally says, something between begging and annoyance.
Bruce stays silent for a while, then slowly brings his hand up to Wally's hair.
"Until we land," Bruce agrees.
He hopes he'll never reach Earth.
. . .
Wally flicks on the light in his bedroom and throws his clothes on the floor, not caring where they land. He stretches and yawns, walking naked to the shower. He showers and slips on some boxers. He can't help but grin widely as he sees the stain on his costume on the floor.
He always loves being right. And even more than that, he just loves proving Bruce wrong.
And fucking him. That was kind of hot, too.
He goes to the kitchen, leaving the light in his bedroom on and pouts at the too empty fridge. He grabs what he can finds and has the weirdest dinner/breakfast, but he also doesn't really care, because he's still thinking of the way Bruce squirmed underneath his touches. He stops that train of thought quickly, because it's putting him in danger of wanting to do it again. Like. Right now again. He wonders if Bruce would be up for a second round already.
Wally shakes his heads and decides to go to sleep and think of witty lines he could use all day in the Watchtower to make Bruce as uncomfortable as possible. The mere thought makes him giddy like a kid on its first trip to Disneyland.
Wally switches off the light of his bedroom and reaches over to fall in his bed when all of sudden -
His right hand is cuffed to the bed.
His left hand is cuffed to the bed.
Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit! Wally thinks and he presses his legs together. He really doesn't want to be castrated. Or tortured. Or killed. Especially not in that order.
The light on his night table is switched on and he can see the familiar cowl of Batman. There is a smirk on Bruce's lips as he sits down on the edge of the bed.
"Please don't castrate me with a rusty saw," Wally says. "I like those parts. They make me feel manly. And ladies dig them."
Bruce just widens his smirks, until it becomes downright terrifying. Wally promptly loses his fear for Chucky and the Nightmare On Elm Street is a laugh, because seriously. Bruce. Smirking. Like. This. In. His. Room.
He's doomed. At least he had fun before his inescapable demise.
"Castrating you wouldn't really be in my best interest," Bruce says huskily, as he crawls on the bed and settles between Wally's pulled up legs. Wally feels himself grow hard again, just at the sight of Bruce smirking like that, still in the costume, the fabric of the cape covering Wally's naked legs. "This is just round two."
Bruce slides his gloved hand over Wally's chest, down, down, down and slips a few fingers behind the elastic of Wally's waistband, tugging a little.
Wally is a little disappointed at that. "I'm going to need that hand just a little lower."
"No." Bruce says simply but firmly and he brings his hand up to his mouth, pulling of the glove with his teeth in the sexiest way Wally has ever seen and then pushes back the cowl.
Wally pouts. He's not ashamed to admit it. "The word you're looking for is 'yes', Bruce."
"That would destroy the meaning of proving my point," Bruce replies, sliding his now bare hand up Wally's sides, making him shiver and squirm and giggle, because he's a lot more ticklish than he'd care to admit. Because Bruce is an evil bastard, he does it again, just because he knows Wally hates it. He pulls of the other glove with his teeth as well, then discards it nonchalantly. He's looking almost triumphantly. "Proven. I am, like always, in perfect control of the situation."
Wally does his best impression of a glare, but then gives up because he's really hard and he really wants Bruce to fix that little problem. It's his fault anyway. With the whole 'being too sexy for his own good'-thing and all that.
"Will it help if I say please?" Wally asks innocently. "Since you would totally still be in absolute control and all that. I wouldn't want to undermine your authority in any way."
"Please would be a good start," Bruce admits, tugging again for good measure and sliding the inside of his thigh over Wally's crotch 'by accident'. "We'll deal with that sarcasm of yours later."
Wally moans and leans up again. "Well, in that case, Mr. Wayne..." He makes sure to look straight into Bruce's eyes as he says. "Please fuck me senseless into my mattress. And then maybe again over my kitchen table. Or my desk. Or the floor. Or the wall. I'm not picky. Thank you very much in advance."
Because Bruce is not a completely evil bastard, he complies.
. . .
I have no excuse XD I WAS FORCED INTO THIS! XD
I promised a friend of mine I would give her smut since she gave my angst so, yes, here it is. I know it's not very good and rather awful, actually, but bear with me here. I loved writing their banter though.
I feel like I've just set a milestone of my fangirlism here. Seriously XD
Please review? XD