Chapter Text
Tall, dark, handsome. Incredibly rich, beyond doubt. Confident to the T. God, just being in a room with him caused Clark to practically drool over his small reporter’s notebook. Clark was well aware of his kink for older and stronger men. Obviously, strength was impossible, but the appearance of it made Clark squirm in his seat. So that is how Clark finds himself sitting and fidgeting with his pen repeatedly as he is sat around a circular table with exactly five seats. Lois sat to his left as per usual at events, two of the seats were filled with rich people that he honestly did not care to learn the names of (That was Lois’ job). Sat across from him was the cause of all of his… Discomfort.
Bruce Wayne, the epitome of ‘Dom’ for Clark. Being a stuttering and anxious mess was normal when he was Clark, not superman, but he wished desperately he was putting on the act now. If anything, he was trying to pull up his Superman. Trying so hard not to become a pile of mush whenever Mr Wayne looked in his direction. And oh, did he look often. Every time Clark even peered at the male out of the corner of his eye, he would smirk and tilt his head in response.
There was only one thing that stopped Clark’s ever growing want for the billionaire; It was a well known fact that Bruce Wayne slept around. He shared his bed with practically anyone, but was always gone by morning. Sometimes just leaving a simple ‘Thank you for the good night’ note, before heading out. It was not something that Clark was interested in at all. Sleeping around was something he had tried and only ended up with him feeling empty inside. It was a downward spiral that never suited him well.
“So, how long have you been writing for the Plant, Mr Kent?” That deep and raspy voice reached his ears within an instant. The heat in Clark’s cheeks grew tenfold.
“Uh, ten months.” He looked over to Lois, trying not (and failing) to show how much he was begging for her help. Her eyes widened as she looked in between the two males at the table before nodding frantically.
“Yes, he has! Been my partner the whole time, though I do think I work better without him stumbling after me.” She says as she lets out a slight laugh. The other two rich people laugh along. Clark wanted to bang his head against the table.
“I can’t imagine he would cause too much trouble, seems harmless to me.” Harmless! Please could the floor swallow him up already. Clark kept his mouth tightly shut as he allowed Lois to converse with Wayne. She was better at the speaking thing, he was more of a ‘use powers to find secret hidden things that they have no way to explain yet’ kind of person.
“Oh no, he is not harmful, he just manages to get himself into weird situations. He’s like a puppy at a pet store, you somehow lose him and he turns up after a while with a mouth full of toys.” She laughs as she slaps Clark over the shoulder. He decides to settle for staring at the table cloth after he meets Bruce’s burning gaze once last time.
“A huge puppy, that's for sure.” Everyone at the table laughs at Bruce’s words. “I can imagine it though. Especially in places like this. The rich do sure have a thing for wanting to engage with interesting things. We are lucky to have him at our table, I am shocked someone else did not steal him for their table.” Bruce looked towards the others at the table, finally, as they all laughed. Clark did not comment, instead grabbing his wine glass and taking a small sip.
Conversation faded onto other subjects with ease. But every single time Clark raised his head, Bruce’s attention would immediately switch to him. Clark was sure he had counted every thread in the table cloth by now. He was also sure he had drunk at least seven glasses of wine. And while alcohol never tended to affect him, seven glasses of wine was excessive. He was sure he was tipsy at the least. Which was not for the better, as he found himself looking up more. Which led to him meeting Bruce’s dark eyes more often. Which led him to noticing that Lois had left the table (presumably in chase of a quote). Soon enough, he noticed that he and Bruce Wayne were the only two remaining on the table. Wait, had he moved closer?
“You handle your wine fairly well.” Wayne observed. His large hand reached for his own wine glass, raising it to his lips to take a sip. Clark pushed his glasses up his nose as he settled his eyes in the CEO’s direction.
“So do you. We are matching drink for drink are we not?” Clark was proud of his lack of stumble on the words. He was also embarrassingly proud of the smirk his words brought to Bruce's lips.
“Paying such close attention to me?” It is phrased as a question but was clearly a statement. Clark did not respond and went to chug his own drink. “Where are you staying while you’re in Gotham, Mr Kent.”
“Just a Hotel downtown. I’m only staying overnight, so there wasn’t much point in wasting money on a well known one.” Not that the CEO of Wayne Enterprise would know anything about not wasting money, Clark muses to himself.
“Well, I’ve always got space in my bed for someone as good looking as you.” Clark’s eyes widened behind his glasses, his gaze flew to the others. It was then that he noticed that Wayne had moved closer, leaning into his personal space. His large left hand was on the back of his chair.
While it had been clear that he had been flirting, Clark did not expect Mr Wayne to be this forward with him. The billionaire was known for sleeping with models, actresses and other high elites. A reporter was never one to pique the interest of Mr Wayne. Clark had thought he was a temporary amusement. One to entertain until someone more his style walked by.
Did he want to? Yes. That much did not even need pondering. Hours of uninteresting rich people talk filling his ears did that to him. He wanted nothing more than to be pinned beneath the man. He yearned to be left moaning until all that was left was ‘Bruce’ stuck on his tongue for weeks on end.
“No.” Clark rushed out. After all, Bruce Wayne did not repeat. One night, then never again. Cat had told him that repeatedly. Different bed partner at every event. Clark got attached way too easily. If he could avoid getting attached, he would.
“No?” Bruce Wayne’s comically wide eyes almost made the denial worth it. He leaned back, eyes scanning over Clark’s features.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t do one night stands.” He rushed out before standing and straightening his second hand suit back into its normal place. “I’m sure you will find someone more suitable to share your bed tonight, as you so often do.” Well, that came out more rude than Clark had intended. “Which is fine! As long as it’s all consensual, then get your love wherever you want.” God, he sounded stupid! Bruce’s expression had softened into a more amused look. “It’s just- Just not what I’m into. Wish you all the best luck though.” Before Clark could embarrass himself further, he spun around and beelined for the exit.
He had been there for three hours, which was more than suitable for an invited reporter. He could imagine Lois’ disappointed face though. She had dragged him along in hopes he would enjoy the night. While he had enjoyed the drinks and food, the addition of having to turn down a man that looked like walking sex, had led to a terrible end.
God, why could he not just sleep with someone without the connection? He cursed himself.