𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐖𝐚𝐲𝐧𝐞 | 𝐁𝐚𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐧 (
theknightshift) wrote2025-03-30 10:41 pm
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Strictly Business (for prettyredbird)
[ When the drugs wear off, Bruce would be able to pinpoint exactly where his plans had gone awry. He's meticulous and precise and careful when it came to planning such large scale operations. There would never be room for error or miscalculation. He couldn't afford it if he was going to end Black Mask's trafficking ring.
Problem was, there had been a miscalculation. A grave one. A variable Bruce had been unable to account for and did not have the time to adapt to. That's how Bruce Wayne, who once might have been considered a respectable client here, was next up on the auction block, hands bound up tight behind him. The drugs were powerful, but Bruce was somehow still lucid enough to realize something wasn't right and if he wasn't bound good and tight, he'd have put up a decent enough fight. Roman Sionis couldn't have that. He's strong, all muscle and tall. He's handsome too. That makes him an easy product to push. Makes the prices jump considerably. They'd make a fortune.
It's hard to think through this fog. Hard to pin down where he is in relation to everyone else. Hard to know how exactly he was going to get out of this when his arms and his legs felt like they belonged to someone else.
Around him, he can hear shouting. Numbers. Bids rising higher and higher. Money he would have gladly parted with himself if he could bring himself to say something. His tongue felt heavy, unwieldy in his mouth. So he doesn't say anything at all. He just looks out at the crowd vying for him. Through the fog, Bruce reaches for clarity, clings to it wherever he can find it. Behind him, he tests the restraints. He's not strong enough to try that yet. But soon.
He only needed a few more minutes. Just a few more and this would all be over. ]
Problem was, there had been a miscalculation. A grave one. A variable Bruce had been unable to account for and did not have the time to adapt to. That's how Bruce Wayne, who once might have been considered a respectable client here, was next up on the auction block, hands bound up tight behind him. The drugs were powerful, but Bruce was somehow still lucid enough to realize something wasn't right and if he wasn't bound good and tight, he'd have put up a decent enough fight. Roman Sionis couldn't have that. He's strong, all muscle and tall. He's handsome too. That makes him an easy product to push. Makes the prices jump considerably. They'd make a fortune.
It's hard to think through this fog. Hard to pin down where he is in relation to everyone else. Hard to know how exactly he was going to get out of this when his arms and his legs felt like they belonged to someone else.
Around him, he can hear shouting. Numbers. Bids rising higher and higher. Money he would have gladly parted with himself if he could bring himself to say something. His tongue felt heavy, unwieldy in his mouth. So he doesn't say anything at all. He just looks out at the crowd vying for him. Through the fog, Bruce reaches for clarity, clings to it wherever he can find it. Behind him, he tests the restraints. He's not strong enough to try that yet. But soon.
He only needed a few more minutes. Just a few more and this would all be over. ]
no subject
He starts at Tim's mouth, where that tiny genuine smile is and works his way down the line of his jaw and the slope of his shoulder, mapping the skin with his mouth and tongue. Eager to memorize that taste, like he'd never get a chance to do this again. Bruce is kissing across his collar bone when Tim asks him again and even if he cannot see him, Bruce is sure Tim could feel the smile spreading across Bruce's lips. He sits himself upright, slicks up his hand and uses it to trace that tight ring of muscle. ]
If you're that eager for me, I suppose I should oblige you.
no subject
The man's arrogance is as obnoxious as it is infuriatingly attractive. But Tim is goal-oriented, as always, and saying anything that risks him not getting his back blown out is not at option. He still rolls his eyes, but that smile doesn't leave his lips. Not when he feels those slick fingertips press right up against him. Tim's so close to getting what he wants he can almost taste it. ]
It would be awful rude not to, don't you think?
no subject
[ Rude and would leave Bruce feeling utterly unsatisfied. And Bruce is feeling incredibly selfish at the moment. It feels a little premature to think of this now, but Bruce can't help himself. There's some distantly aware part of himself that is mapping out moments they can do this again -- quiet moments of down time he can catch Tim alone in. He never liked being without a plan, and he'd rather minimize the chance they'd be interrupted.
Bruce's lips find their way under the curve of Tim's chin, giving him something to focus on as that first finger sinks into him. He gives Tim a moment to adjust and when he's satisfied, the second follows. ]