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The flat has vaulted ceilings, moonlight shining in through the windows. It’s modern. Fancy. Nice, if you care about that type of thing.
Khoa doesn’t.
He fails to feel anything as his eyes roam over the decor, mind wrapped up in the events of the night. The party, the mission, seducing a man he felt nothing for, being seduced by a man he wished he felt nothing for. It had been a long day, and currently he wished he could put it all to rest and get a few hours of sleep. Sadly his brain felt like forcing him to relive the moment he realized he had been played by Bruce Wayne over and over again on repeat; the way he looked so small as he self deprecated. The way he leaned in as Khoa wrapped his arm around his shoulder. The way his eyes shined as he looked down at Khoa’s lips. The way Khoa didn’t even feel him slipping the book from his jacket.
When was the last time he allowed himself to get caught up like that? Let his guard down enough to get played?
And the worst part is he should be mad, he should be furious that Bruce was willing to manipulate him—his best friend—to get what he wanted. But if anything, Khoa likes him more because of it. Likes the idea of Bruce being cunning, seducing people whenever he wants. Imagines Bruce with an evil smirk on his face, or a soft smile when he knows he has someone right where he wants them. Imagines himself being right where Bruce wants him.
Because the truth of the matter is, he’s not mad that Bruce stole the book, he’s mad that Oblonsky interrupted them before he could finally find out what Bruce’s lips felt like pressed against his own.
He’s spread out in his double bed, the dark blue sheets kicked down around his legs—the t-shirt he wears riding up on his stomach. He’s not used to sleeping in a bed this big, too much room to have to himself.
On Paektu Mountain their futons were small, he slept on his back, arms and legs at his side. Unless he was with Bruce—which happened more often than not if he’s being honest. It started when there was a cold snap, plunging the mountain into temperatures farther away from zero than Khoa had ever even thought possible. Bruce was a baby when it came to the cold. He could take it, of course, his resolve was stronger than most, but he still couldn’t stop himself from shivering at every waking moment.
It was an act of pity the first time Khoa crawled in bed with him. An act of selflessness because he couldn’t take watching the poor boy suffer any longer. They curled around each other, Bruce’s body slowly relaxing against his own as their breath mixed together in front of them. They kept sleeping like that even after the weather warmed up. They never spoke about why.
They have their own rooms in Oblonsky’s apartment. Double beds, soft sheets. Their beds both pushed against the dividing wall between their rooms. He can pretend Bruce is asleep, curled up in his comforter, snoring softly like he always does. He can pretend he’s sleeping soundly, not at all affected by the way the night progressed, by the things he did to get the book. But Khoa knows him better than that. Knows he’s awake, over thinking every decision that led them to Bruce throwing the book into the river.
Khoa scoots to the wall, running his fingers over the textured surface before knocking his knuckles against it gently. He lets his hands sound out dots and dashes he knows Bruce will understand.
“Are you awake?”
He waits, almost long enough that he actually thinks Bruce might be asleep before he hears small knocks answering him.
“Yes.”
Something in his stomach starts to flutter.
“Tired?” he asks.
“No.”
His blood is pumping as he taps out his final question.
“Can I come over?”
Bruce might say no. Khoa would. But Bruce is nothing like him when all is said and done, and that’s what Khoa likes about him.
“Yes.”
He’s out of his bedroom before he even realizes his feet are on the ground. Silent as he makes his way down the hallway, opening Bruce’s door with the tiniest of clicks. Bruce is waiting for him. Head on his pillow, turned to look at the door before Khoa even walked into the room. He lifts his covers as Khoa makes his way over to him, not hesitating to welcome him in.
The bed is the same size as Khoa’s, the sheets a slightly different shade of blue—more grayish. Bruce has one pillow that Khoa carefully lays his head down on. Only their legs touch, gently sliding together as they settle besides each other. Khoa feels the bottom of his shirt being tugged, trying to be pulled closer, but he doesn’t move forward, doesn’t know why Bruce wants him closer than this. He can feel the way Bruce’s fingers wrap around the fabric, deciding to lightly hold it instead.
The light of the city is shining on Bruce’s face, highlighting his sharp cheekbones, and making his blue eyes glow. He’s chewing on his lip—it’s a bad habit Khoa sees him do when he’s nervous. He takes a deep breath before talking.
“I’m sorry about today, with the book,” he whispers, eyes not meeting Khoa’s even though they’re laying inches apart.
“It’s fine,”
“No, it’s not,” Bruce sulks, “I cared more about the mission than your feelings.”
God he’s so fucking annoying. Makes everything so personal, thinks everything has to mean something.
Khoa can’t stop staring at his lips.
“Bruce, I know you did. I don’t care that you wanted to win,” he responds, he’d rather not say anything but he knows if he doesn’t Bruce will think he’s angry.
“But I feel bad, Anton.” Khoa can feel the tugs on his shirt as Bruce fidgets with it. “You had your guard down, and I manipulated you.”
Khoa sighs. Bruce's eyebrows furrow together.
“I tried to use your feelings for me against you. I—I’m sorry.”
He looks pathetic. Apologizing for playing a game they were both in on. Caring about Khoa’s feelings as if he’s delicate and easy to break. He’s immature. Doesn’t know how the world works.
Khoa wants to fuck him silly.
“Bruce, it’s okay,” he reassures yet again.
“I tried to get you to kiss me!” he huffs, “What kind of friend does that?” His eyes getting glassy.
“Bruce, it’s fine!” Khoa snaps, “I don’t care. I let my guard down, it was good that you took advantage of that. Means your training is paying off. I’m happy to see you taking initiative for once.”
Bruce’s eyes shine, brow relaxing.
“It was smart thinking,” Khoa adds, as passing car headlights paint themselves across Bruce’s face, “but don't think I’ll let you get away with it again,” he teases.
Bruce smiles—big and genuine—the kind that he can imagine on a magazine cover, the front page of the news. Maybe in another life.
His hands are still playing with the hem of Khoa’s shirt. Normally he would be annoyed by that, now he thinks the gesture is cute. Paired with Bruce’s smile, he can’t help but feel the corners of his own lips twitch up.
“Okay, I’ll try harder next time then,” Bruce chuckles, but then the nervousness returns, “You know, I wouldn’t mind if you—I would let you try again.”
Khoa’s not following.
“Try what?”
“Kissing me. If you want. I would let you.”
Oh.
In all of this Khoa never thought Bruce actually wanted any of it. Thought he was playing pretend, saying whatever, and doing whatever was necessary to get what he wanted. God knows Khoa never wants the other person when he’s seducing someone to get information. But, Bruce has always been different from Khoa, now hasn’t he.
He leans forward without preamble, carefully taking Bruce’s face in his hand and pushing their lips together. It’s soft. Bruce is softer than anything Khoa’s ever felt, and the way their lips brush against each other feels like he’s touching clouds. He can feel Bruce’s cheek heating up in his hand as he turns his head slightly, trying to push deeper into the other boy.
Khoa’s lips are abruptly met with Bruce’s forehead as he drops his head down, hiding his face in Khoa’s collarbones.
“Did I fuck something up?” Khoa asks.
“No,” Bruce snorts out, “I just—I’ve never kissed a boy before,” he says quietly, cheeks burning against Khoa’s skin. He can't stop the chuckle that leaves his mouth.
“It’s funny how shy you get about these types of things,”
“Don’t laugh at me!” Bruce whines, lightly punching his fists into Khoa’s stomach before returning them back to pluck at his shirt, “I just…I’ve never been good at this kind of stuff. Knowing what to say to people, or how to act with them.”
“Yeah, I know, I’ve seen you try,” he deadpans. Bruce huffs, a puff of warm breath hitting Khoa’s neck before he lifts his head to finally look at him again.
“I just…I like you. I want to make sure I do this right.”
“You’re doing better than you think, Bruce,” Khoa’s been hard since he walked in the room. “If you want to kiss me again, all you have to do is ask.”
A new shade of pink fills Bruce’s cheeks as he stares at Khoa’s lips.
“Yeah, I want to do it again. Can I kiss you, Anton?”
Khoa nods his head, and Bruce is pressing their lips together. More present this time as he holds Khoa’s face, controlling the way he turns his head and presses deeper. It doesn’t take long before they’re licking into each other's mouths. Bruce’s hands finally let go of Khoa’s shirt in favor of sliding them under it, carefully dragging them up his front, feeling his stomach tense as the cold fingertips touch his skin. Khoa squeezes his eyes shut as Bruce softly caresses his body, almost like he’s trying to memorize everything about him by feel.
When Khoa’s shirt is pushed to his armpits, he makes the executive decision to take it off. Rising up away from Bruce, leaning over him and tugging it off in a way he knows shows off his muscles. As soon as it’s gone Bruce is pulling him back down, kissing back into his mouth.
Khoa’s on top now, running his hands in Bruce’s hair. He remembers what it looked like when they first met. Cropped close to his skull, but still soft—Khoa used to stroke through it as Bruce slept, gentle touches that Bruce’s sleeping form leaned into.
He watched it grow over their year together on Paektu Mountain, watched it get longer as the seasons changed until it grew to the length it is now. Khoa selfishly likes it better like this. Likes the way it falls into his eyes when Bruce is being gloomy. Likes the way it falls into his eyes now, head thrown back in ecstasy as Khoa ruts their hips together for the first time.
He doesn’t stop his movement, feeling himself growing harder each time Bruce gasps in his ear. Khoa grabs the bottom of Bruce’s shirt, trailing his hands up his body until he’s able to pull it over his head. Bruce is reconnecting their lips as Khoa throws it onto the side of the bed.
“Anton,” Bruce whines, arching up into Khoa’s body, “Anton, please.”
Khoa smirks into the kiss.
“Please what, Bruce?”
“Do something,” he huffs.
Khoa sits up, Bruce’s legs straddle around his own. His fingers trail down Bruce’s chest, drawing light lines on his body until he reaches the top of his pants. The sleep shorts he’s wearing are pale green, soft from being over washed. Khoa tugs on them slightly before Bruce is jerking away, pushing back Khoa’s hand.
“Wait,” Bruce warns.
“What’s wrong?” Khoa responds, a little too much genuine concern showing in his tone. Bruce’s lip is between his teeth again, pointedly not looking at Khoa.
“Nothing’s wrong just…” he sighs, looking back at Khoa, nerves still present on his face, “I—I’m trans, Anton.”
That wasn’t expected, but Khoa doesn’t mind.
“Okay—”
“I don’t have, like, a dick or anything,” Bruce interrupts, going back to chewing on his lip, “if that’s something you care about,” He adds off handedly, trying to downplay how seriously he took telling Khoa just a moment ago.
“Bruce, I don’t mind,” Khoa reassures, smiling wickedly, “Not at all.”
He runs his hands up and down Bruce's exposed thighs. Rubbing lightly when he gets to the soft hair between his legs. Bruce sighs.
“Can I see?” Khoa whispers.
Bruce nods his head, and Khoa starts to pull his shorts down. Gentle as he strips the fabric away from his legs. The shorts are gone and he spreads Bruce apart, getting a full view of his gleaming hole. The air feels like it’s been stolen from his lungs.
He’s is so fucking wet.
Bruce’s arms are thrown over his face, carefully peaking out at Khoa. He still looks so nervous. Khoa can’t imagine why, not when he’s been hiding something so glorious this whole time.
“Is it okay?” Bruce whispers, still covering his face.
Khoa scoots forward on his knees, lifting Bruce’s bottom half up onto his legs, pulling him closer to his mouth.
“It’s perfect. You’re perfect, Bruce.”
The moonlight catches on the shine coming from between Bruce’s legs, showing Khoa the proof that Bruce wants him just as much as he does. He pulls Bruce up even closer and watches as his slick drips down and smears against his leg.
“What can I touch?” he’s suddenly gasping out.
“Everything,” Bruce says, squirming, “All of it.”
Khoa leans down immediately, taking Bruce into his mouth, tongue running across Bruce’s opening. He needs to taste—to touch—been waiting so long to have Bruce spread open like this. Bruce’s arms slam down to pull at the sheets, back arching, pushing himself into Khoa’s warm mouth.
Khoa starts to suck lightly at Bruce’s clit, moving his finger to slowly rub over Bruce’s opening. Not pushing in, just teasing. Through half-lidded eyes Khoa can see the way Bruce’s head is thrown back, the pale skin of his neck on full display. Khoa would love to leave a mark on it.
Later, he decides as he pushes his first finger into Bruce, pumping it in and out of his tight heat. Sucking on him greedily as he strokes his finger inside Bruce. He considers adding another already. Bruce can take it, Khoa knows he could. But he decides to sit up instead. Stopping his licking and sucking to get a full view of Bruce’s face.
It’s flushed, his cheeks pink, dark hair starting to stick to his forehead from sweat.
He’s gorgeous.
Khoa wants to fucking wreck him.
“You ever done anything like this before?” Khoa asks, he wouldn't be surprised if Bruce said no. If he really was the blushing virgin he’s making himself out to be. If this was the first time Bruce ever let himself be vulnerable like this—
“Yes,” Bruce is gasping, “I had a girlfriend in Gotham.”
The fantasy Khoa was making in his head comes to an abrupt end. But he’s not disappointed. If anything he wants to know more.
“Just one?” Khoa asks, not at all hiding his teasing tone.
“Mhm,” Bruce moans, nodding his head. Khoa pushes another finger in.
“What'd you do with her?”
“We fucked,” he gasps, “I fucked her.” His legs start shaking from the added stretch.
“Yeah?” Khoa chuckles, “Like this? With your fingers?” He speeds up his movement to show emphasis.
Bruce moans, head thrown back, arms coming back up to cover his face.
“Yes, yeah,” he’s gasping as Khoa rubs up inside him, “but I had a strap, also. I used that, too.”
That has Khoa moaning this time.
“Oh fuck, Bruce. You did? Was it big?” He watches Bruce nod. “Did she like it?” He nods again. “Maybe we should go down to the shops, get one so you can use it on me.” He smirks as Bruce whimpers out a long line of pleasepleaseplease. He goes back to his fingers, twisting them around, rubbing them up right where Bruce's g-spot should be.
“Yeah, we’ll buy it, see if we can sneak it past Oblonsky,” he proposes, smirking as Bruce’s face goes even more red. “Although,” he adds, “I’m sure she already knows, she saw us on the bridge,” he moves his other hand to thumb at Bruce’s clit, “saw the way I looked at you. I bet she can hear us from her bedroom. Hear the way I’m defiling you, making you moan.”
Bruce is crying out, his hole clenching around Khoa’s fingers. Hips trying to thrust back into him. Khoa’s cock is hard as a rock in his underwear, aching to be touched.
“God, Anton—”
“My name is Minhkhoa,” Khoa corrects. Bruce gasps, eyes shining in the moonlight. “Sick of hearing you call me by that fake name. Wanna hear you say the real thing,”
Bruce reaches forward then, grabbing Khoa's neck and dragging him into a sloppy kiss. Khoa adds another finger as their chests press together.
“Fuck, Minhkhoa, I'm gonna come—”
Khoa pulls out.
Bruce whines dramatically, flailing around and arching up into nothing. Khoa pays him no mind, pulling his own underwear down as fast as he can, throwing them off to the side, and finally getting a hand on his cock. He strokes himself fast, rubbing Bruce’s slick over his dick to get a smoother slide.
“Have you taken anything before?” he asks quickly, taking Bruce’s thighs in his hands to spread him apart again.
“Mhm,” Bruce nods, looking up at Khoa through half opened eyes, “My girlfriend. Sh—she also used the strap on me.”
God, Khoa would love to see that.
“Did you like it?” he asks, scooting closer to Bruce.
“Yes, I loved it.”
“Good. Do you need any more prep? Lube?”
Bruce shakes his head no.
Khoa gets in place, slowly pushing in, feeling Bruce stretch around him. He’s so fucking warm. Heat zips up Khoa’s spine, making his toes numb and fingers tingle. He can hear Bruce whine, but he continues to push in all the way without stopping, balls settling against Bruce's ass.
“Oh fuck,” Bruce practically screams, arching into Khoa, moaning out incoherent profanities. “God, give me a minute,” he gasps out, trying to catch his breath. His hand reaches down, settling on his lower belly. “I feel so full, Minhkhoa,” he whines, “God , I swear I could come just from this.”
Khoa takes interest in that, grabbing Bruce's hips and pulling him down on his cock. Hitting deeper into him. Bruce spasms around him.
“Fuck!” he moans, “Fuck, Khoa, oh my god. You're so big.”
Khoa just smirks, moving his hand over to Bruce's cock, rubbing it with a steady rhythm. Bruce said he could come, Khoa wants to see if he'll actually do it.
"Minhkhoa!” Bruce cries, “Khoa, wait! Oh fuck, Khoa, I'm gonna—fuck!” He arches his back, body going rigid and then starting to shake. His face relaxes as his hips slowly roll through his orgasm. Khoa smiles down at him. Bruce groans when he finally looks up at him.
“You're an ass,” he whines, turning his head to hide his face in his pillow.
“I'm impressed,” Khoa grins, “Didn't think you would actually do it.”
“I told you I would!” Bruce pouts.
“Well, it’s good to know that I can get Bruce Wayne to come on my cock without even doing anything,”
Bruce opens his mouth to respond but Khoa swoops in to kiss him, cutting off any remark Bruce was going to make. He feels Bruce’s fingers tangling in his hair, giving it a sharp tug when Khoa tries to bite Bruce’s lip. He smiles against his mouth.
“I liked that you called me Khoa,” he whispers, “You must really like me if you’re giving me a nickname already.”
Bruce’s cheeks somehow get redder.
“I don’t even remember doing that,”
“Did I really fuck your brains out that bad, baby? Bruce, all I did was stick my dick in,” he teases, as Bruce pulls his hair again, trying to get him to shut up. Khoa laughs and then starts thrusting his hips.
“Khoa,” Bruce gasps, “Wait—”
“Come on Brucie, want to make you feel good again.”
“You're such a fucking jackass,” he groans, dropping his head back down against his pillow as Khoa speeds up his hips. Khoa fucks into him fast and hard, Bruce's slick helping to lessen the drag.
Bruce lets out tiny gasps every time Khoa pushes in. They get louder as Khoa moves faster. Eventually, Bruce shoves his face into his pillow, biting down on it as Khoa slams into him.
Khoa doesn't like that. He wants to hear the sounds he’s forcing out of Bruce—wants to see his face as he makes them. He also doesn't want him to drool all over the only pillow Bruce has, so he reaches forward, turning his jaw, shoving two of his fingers into his mouth instead.
Bruce sucks at them greedily, running his tongue all around them. Khoa makes a mental reminder to have him suck his dick later. God, that tongue can move. He pulls his fingers out to grab at Bruce's hips again, changing the angle a bit, making Bruce gasp.
Above him like this, Khoa has a full view of Bruce's chest—can see the scars that mark him. Now that he's paying attention he can make out two symmetrical surgery scars under both of Bruce's pecs. They blend in well with all the others. Cuts from knives and swords, scrapes and bruises from training, a stray bullet hole through his left leg. They all come together on Bruce’s skin like a mosaic.
Khoa leans forward, kissing his pec, moving to the nipple to suck at it as Bruce cries out in pleasure. Khoa can feel Bruce’s legs snake around his hips, using them to pull him closer, pull him deeper. He keeps up the movement of his hips, Bruce groaning as he clenches around Khoa’s cock. They pant into each other's mouths as Bruce starts to whine.
“Khoa! Oh fuck, m’close again. Please—fuck—please,”
Khoa pulls out.
“Khoa! Stop fucking doing that!”
Khoa flashes him an evil smile as he moves down his body, winking when he gets to Bruce’s opening before starting to eat him out.
Bruce is moaning, throwing his head back, as Khoa’s tongue brings him closer and closer. His feet plant on the bed, trying to push himself into Khoa’s mouth more.
“Oh fuck—”
“Say my name, Bruce. Want to hear you say it while you come.” Khoa demands, adding three fingers into Bruce at once, making him gasp, “Go on, tell me who you belong to.”
“Minhkhoa, please,” Bruce starts crying out immediately, “Khoa, please make me come. Fuck, please, Khoa. Khoa. KhoaKhoaKhoa—”
He smirks as his pace quickens, feeling the way Bruce humps up into his face as he falls over the edge, shaking with it as he comes for a second time. Body tensing and then going slack. Khoa doesn't stop his movements, even as Bruce starts whining out with oversensitivity. Suddenly Bruce is tensing again, and Khoa feels wetness splattering over his face.
Slightly confused, he pulls back to look, Bruce with his arms thrown over his eyes again, breathing heavily as he squirts over Khoa’s fingers rubbing inside of him.
He’s fucking squirting.
He just made Bruce squirt.
Khoa’s grin is shit eating.
Khoa’s face is wet when Bruce finally drops his arms to look at him. His cheeks are red and his lips are kiss bitten. He sees Khoa and gets embarrassed.
“Fuck, m’sorry,” Bruce apologizes, “I didn’t mean to do that.”
Khoa grows a wide smile on his face “You make it sound like I didn’t love it.”
Bruce’s whole body blushes, “I made a mess. And it got all over you—”
Khoa gets up abruptly, leaning up to be even with Bruce’s mouth.
“I liked it, quit fucking yapping,” he says and kisses him.
He quickly sits up, his cock still hard and aching as he grabs it and starts to stroke. He looks down at Bruce’s body—the expanses of his chest, all his creamy skin, perfect even with the bumps and bruises. He grunts as he gets closer, Bruce’s voice filling his head.
“Khoa. Come on me, please. I want you to.”
He’s releasing on his chest before the words finish leaving his mouth. Come hitting Bruce’s skin up to his chin. He strokes himself through it, his body buzzing before relaxing.
Khoa’s hands pet at Bruce’s sides as they breathe together deeply. He picks up Bruce’s discarded t-shirt, using it to wipe them both off. When he’s done cleaning his face, Khoa leans down to give Bruce a light kiss, then pulls up, acting like he’s trying to move away.
Bruce whines.
“Shh,” Khoa soothes, “I’m just going back to my room,”
Bruce doesn’t answer, just tugs him down for another kiss instead.
They make out lazily until Khoa starts to lift up again. He really should go back to his room. It’s one thing to finally get Bruce under him, it's another to wake up next to him. Bruce chases after his lips, trying to get more of him.
“Bruce—”
“Stay,” Bruce interrupts, “Stay with me. Please.”
And isn’t that all Khoa’s ever wanted? To hear those words from Bruce? To hear Bruce finally admit that he needs Khoa? Wants Khao?
He looks down at Bruce. His hair is wet with sweat, stuck to his forehead. Khoa reaches out and brushes it back, hand going down to caress his cheek. It’s still pink—warm under his palm. This is all he’s wanted since he met Bruce. Here now, right in front of him.
“Fine,” he says, dropping his body down on top of Bruce, who wheezes from the sudden weight crushing him.
“God,” Bruce hisses, “Why do you always have to be so difficult?”
Khoa doesn’t answer, putting his face into Bruce’s neck instead, hiding his smile in the warmth of his skin. He listens as Bruce’s breathing evens back out, can feel the way his body relaxes under him. Soon the familiar soft snores start up and Khoa knows he’s asleep.
He pulls Bruce even closer to himself, lets his own head rest against Bruce’s chest, counting his heart beat and letting the rise and fall of his ribs rock him to sleep.