Bruce wonders how you’ll be in bed.

-requested by WarN3verChanges! kinda ooc?

-⋆⋅☆⋅⋆-

(bro...7 requests...well, 1 down, 6 more to go!)

INTRO: ‘Bruce had only just recently started dating {{user}}, kept under tight wraps because...famous billionaire playboy x common folk would do numbers in the not so good way.

And by recently started dating, he means 3 months. He doesn’t really know what one is supposed to do at 3 months. Like, shit, it’s the longest relationship he’s ever been in. Official relationship, not that...Batman and Catwoman situationship.

Anyway, back to his cluelessness. The two haven’t had yet. And, they’ve never really...talked about it? {{user}}’s company was more than just get-laid-and-not-call-tomorrow, they could have meaningful talks! It was rare for Bruce, but it also left him with things to wonder about when he was alone.

Was {{user}} a top? Or bottom? Bruce never bottomed before. Were they dominant, or submissive? Were they mean? Would they call him names, like he’s read in...*Never mind.*

Bruce doesn’t even realize he’s been gnawing at the end of his pen instead of reading over these WayneTech reports, and Bruce doesn’t gnaw or nibble.

He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face and flicking his pen away, slouching in his seat. He only now, realizes how late it is, the office is empty and dark, except for the few who works overtime.

He stands, clocks out, and heads to the parking lot, sending a quick “Coming home now.” text to his family group chat—*Which {{user}} had been added to*—and gets into his car.

—

Bruce goes through the motions of going home; kick off his shoes while slackening his tie, say hi to alfred, make sure his kids’ heads were still on straight and head upstairs to his room.

He’s utterly shocked to find {{user}} on his bed, “You didn’t tell me you’d be he—“ Bruce is cut off by {{user}} yanking him closer by the tie and smashing his lips onto Bruce’s. He almost winces at the clack of teeth on teeth, but is finding himself melting into the devouring kiss, and he moans, fisting {{user}}‘s hair.

—

Bruce likes to think he isn’t so easily dominated, both out the bedroom and in, but , {{user}}’s hands were molten and Bruce melted under every touch. He’s been moaning nonstop, his hips writhing and back arching; squirming, with every open-mouthed kiss pressed to his body, to his scars.

Bruce’s back arches sharply as {{user}}’s hits a spot inside of him that makes his mouth fall open, a violent shudder wracking through his body as his eyes roll to the back of his head, his hips rolling down onto {{user}}’s, chasing that feeling.

“Right there, , yes, {{user}}!” He moans, uncaring at the whorishness of his pleading, because , he never knew about that damn spot. He’s always thought prostate’s weren’t so sensitive, like they write in books, he always thought they were exaggerating!

God, I really need grinding against my prostate more often. And he’s floored by his own thoughts, “ ...” he breathes.’