Work Text:
As Bruce's fangs pierced the skin of his dearest friend, a slow trickle of blood started to form. He retracted his teeth and licked up the overflow. The aroma. The flavor. The consistency. The person he was drinking from. Bruce had never had anything like this, it was such a different experience. He loved it. His irises grew with each passing second, all he could find himself doing was sucking. The crisp yet umami taste, that now coated his entire mouth, made him almost feral.
"This is your friend," he thought to himself, "have some control and restraint." Bruce's mind was fighting like the Angel and Demon that sat upon his shoulders.
"More. More. More!!!" the Demon cried, selfishly wanting to drain Clark of every drop of blood in his body. The Angel gasped at the Demon's selfish ways, shaking its head. "No, no, no. Control yourself, this is your friend. He is a person too, you know?"
Clark let out a small gasp at the sensation of Bruce's fangs penetrating his skin. The hunger he could sense from the other party was somehow making him blush. The way Bruce's tongue licked and sucked up Clark's blood, not wasting a single drop. Clark turned his head away, wishing to hide the evergrowing blush on his face. Bruce was too caught up in the experience to notice anything.
Finally after what seemed like forever (even though it was only a few seconds), Bruce removed his mouth from the other man's neck. He was flushed and panting, a little dazed from the almost heavenly experience. His lips were covered in blood, pulling a small smile and chuckle from him. Clark had now turned back to face Bruce. His face was still flushed, but the red would only grow darker as he watched Bruce lick his lips. Bruce stood up, looking at the ground, embarrassed of how selfish he thought himself to be.
"Thank you."
He took a short pause before speaking again.
"I will go get the bandages, I apologize for how greedy I was"
Before Clark could mutter "it's ok," Bruce was already in the bathroom that was attached to his bedroom. Clark looked around, grabbing a few tissues and placing them on the bite mark. He had to get out of here.
"What would Bruce think of me if I told him I had been dreaming of this ever since I knew he was a vampire...?" He thought, and did not want to stick around to find out. He raced out of Wayne Manor, holding the flimsy tissues against his wound.
Bruce didn't hear Clark leave, so he walked out of the bathroom speaking as if he was there.
"I don't have much gauze left, but we'll make do"
He said with a chuckle, stopping as soon as he doesn't see Clark. He stands in the bathroom doorway for a few seconds, bewildered. He then put everything back, a knot forming in his throat. He looked in the mirror, angry at what looked back at him.
"I hate you! You're the reason I most likely just lost the best friendship I have ever had! YOU RUINED THE CHANCES OF US GROWING TOGETHER!! He'll never love you now!"
He turned the lights off and ran into bed. He buried his head in one of his millions of pillows. The salty tears that dripped from his eyes stained the pillow. Some time during his sniffling and sobbing, Bruce drifted off to sleep.
Bruce found himself awake in a cold sweat. He looked around his pitch black room, searching for an answer. Was it just a dream, or has his relationship with Clark truly changed. He flung the covers off of his pale body as he practically flew to his fridge. He opened the door, the sound of the suction breaking connection startled him. He was unsure why. Bruce's eyes squinted as they were met with a fluorescent, blinding light. Before him was an immaculately organized fridge, Alfred's work, but he wasn't interested in any of the different varieties of yogurts or fruits. Bruce looked at the inner side of the door—another immaculate display of organization done by Alfred—searching for the correct sauce. He spotted it, "Bloody Snot" a hot sauce by Hellfire's Hot Sauce. It was a little on the nose, but it always made him feel less like a monster, plus it had a zombie on it who he nicknamed 'Steve'. His shaky hand reached for the bottle, and pulled down. Suddenly, with the rotation of the inner shelves of the refrigerator, the once organized food disappeared. It was replaced with an equally organized collection of blood bags. Alfred had insisted he arrange them in size and blood type. And as much as Bruce teased Alfred, he was extremely grateful for the help. He let go of the hot sauce bottle and reached into the fridge. He took out a specific bag of O positive that he had found to be extra delicious. His nerves lit up like fireworks, but this was no celebratory matter. He unscrewed the top and held the opening to his mouth. He hesitated, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.
"Here goes nothing"
Bruce wrapped his lips around the opening, and sucked. As soon as the cold, crimson liquid hit His tongue, his face scrunched up in mild disgust. This didn't taste at all like it did before. He put it back and grabbed another bag, AB negative, and his body responded the same. He started to become frantic, pulling out every type available to him. And time after time, he had the same response. He put all the bags back, careful to sort them correctly. He may be going through a huge crisis, but it was not worth Albert's wrath. His hand once again pulled on "Bloody Snot" and the same rotation of the inner shelves occured, bringing back the orderly food. He stepped back, letting the refrigerator door close. Once he heard the suction reform the connection, he was left in total darkness. It was fitting, he thought. His back slumped against the door of the fridge, tears beginning to well in his beautiful blue eyes. The sides of his mouth stained with the blood he had consumed. All he could feel was an insatiable hunger for blood, Clark's blood.