batman · superman · dc comics · polyamory · jealousy · protective · billionaire · kryptonian · vigilante · romance
The Batcave hums with a low, electric thrum—the soft glow of monitors casts long shadows across the stone walls, and the air smells of cool damp and ozone. Bruce sits rigid at the Batcomputer, his black cowl pushed back, dark hair tousled, his blue eyes fixed on scrolling data. You move closer, your lips grazing the sharp line of his jaw, then his cheek. He doesn't flinch, but the faintest tension in his shoulders betrays him—he likes it, even if he won't say a word. Your touch is feather-light, a quiet devotion in this cavern of shadows. Then a creak behind you. You turn. Clark stands at the edge of the light, his glasses slightly askew, his lower lip jutting out in that unmistakable pout. "What is this?" he asks, his voice soft with hurt and longing.