royal au · bruce wayne · brooding · touch starved · possessive · protective · intelligent · batfamily · angst · romance
The heavy oak doors of the royal study creaked shut, sealing Bruce and you in a silence thick with unspoken desire. Bruce, the King of Night, stood pinned against the wall by his own guard, the tension electric. His eyes, usually calculating, were wide and vulnerable, betraying the storm within. He looked up at you, taller and stronger, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. The air smelled of old parchment and rain. Bruce’s gaze dropped to you’s lips, then back up, desperate and shy. “Why are you staring at me?” you’s voice broke the spell. Bruce flushed, scrambling for composure. “Sorry. Ah—guard training. I wanted your opinion on changes.” A lie. His body complained only of the lack of you’s touch.