CHAPTER VI — first to last
(warning; smut)

KIRAN WASN'T TRYING TO, SHE REALLY WASN'T. In fact, she had thought, distantly, as she got up for her shower that Monday morning, if she should shave, the way she used to before parties or nights out. But, she shakes the thoughts from her brain, ignores the barely there stubble on her legs and armpits, and goes on with her normal shower routine.

There's a cup of coffee in her hand not even five minutes after she had gotten out of the shower, wearing simply her underwear through her apartment, not expecting anyone to walk in on her today. She's sure Gracie's mom had stopped any semblance of thought the girl had for sneaking over, Asher was at work by this time, looking over important CEO documents, and Clark, Lois, and Lily were getting ready themselves or sleeping. She stood in her kitchen, scrolling through the trending articles about the fact that Bruce Wayne was indulging in the lightness of Metropolis' nightlife the night before.

Kiran always thought he had that old money handsomeness, which every publication seemed to agree with. In the paparazzi pictures from yesterday night, when he had arrived from Gotham, Bruce was wearing a pair of tight slacks and a button up, his sleeves folded up to his elbows and showing off the muscles in his arms. The dark of Gotham suited him better than the lights of Metropolis. It dramatised the contours of his face, sharpened the angles. And, though he was still devilishly handsome in the light, Kiran kinda wanted to see him shroud in that darkness herself.

She guesses she'll have to settle for the light of Metropolis, sipping the last of her coffee, setting her mug near the pot for another cup after she's dressed for work. The interview was today, in the afternoon, and Kiran needed to wear something comfy to deal with her nervous restlessness until then. So, she grabbed some of her comfier dress pants, which were oddly a marigold yellow colour, as well as the matching jacket. She contemplated the jacket for a moment, before putting it back. Her habit of checking the weather forecast before getting dressed said it was going to be a nice day anyway. Cursed herself as she pulled out the top Lily had gotten her for her birthday one year, an off the shoulder white corset top, and laid it out as she went to put on a light amount of makeup.

Hair down, makeup applied, Kiran glanced once in the mirror, frowned at herself because she barely did this on a normal day, and who was Bruce Wayne to make her think she needed to do this. However, it was too late to change anything, so she put on her chosen outfit, as well as a pair of matching white heels, and went to have another cup of coffee and an apple. She was glad Lily knew her well, because despite it being a corset top, it was actually pretty comfortable. The boning in it didn't dig in anywhere uncomfortable and she could eat and drink comfortably. Plus, the sleeves were a chiffon like fabric that fell flatteringly, but at least gave her some cover.

Her hand found the healing bruise on her shoulder, the one Clark had given her, and prodded it, before giving the one Batman had given her a grounding squeeze. If anyone asked, because Kiran wasn't skilled enough with make up to cover them, she would explain them away as gym injuries. Though, she's shown up to work with worse Injuries, like a black eye and burst blood vessels in her eye or her still healing fingers from trying to clock Clark across the jaw, so she doubts anyone would really question the purple colouring of her skin. Maybe Bruce, though she guesses it'll be a passing question, forgotten when they get into the interview.

Like clockwork, at the usual time, Kiran is out the door, wearing some of her comfier shoes as she goes to catch the bus, purse slung over her shoulder and headphones pushed into her ears. And, like every other day, she stops at the coffee shop close to the Daily, for her nth cup of coffee, the barista smiling when she sees Kiran. It's unusual to her that someone behind a bar would be happy to see her, especially in her experiences, but she smiles and makes small talk as the barista, Hadley, types in her usual order and waits for her to pay.

Then she's in the office and working. It's mostly throwing chunks of paper at Clark, who is speed typing an article. Lois is also seemingly on a mission, and Lily has been in and out of the office, yelling about camera lenses at James and something must have happened with Lois while Clark and Kiran were at the JL headquarters cause she can't look in Lois' direction without pulling her 'I'm not blushing' face. Kiran doesn't want to ask, doesn't want to lose the mental focus she has as she studies her questions, and way too soon, it seems the interview has come.

The whole of the office seemed to announce Bruce Wayne's entrance. Perry sauntered by, probably trying to make a good impression for the man that basically owned the Daily Planet. Someone at reception must have sent a text because many of the women in the office fixed their clothes or reapplied make-up. The only person that didn't stop working was Clark, even Lois had stopped her rhythmic typing to watch the elevator. Kiran threw another piece of paper at Clark as the elevator dinged to announce the arrival. Any whispering of conspiracy by the ladies in the office ceased as the doors slid open, and Perry, followed by the man of the hour/day/year/whatever, stepped into the office.

Kiran wouldn't lie, she kept her eyes on the man as he smoothly stepped out of the elevator, his blue eyes never leaving Perry as the older man talked. One of his hands was in his slack's pockets, the other running through his hair, which was combed but not gelled back, giving it that aesthetically pleasing mussed look Bruce was known for. He was wearing an actual suit today, though it looked more like a day-to-day one instead of the fancy ones reserved for actual events and such. Still, it fit him nicely, accentuating the shape of his body, but still leaving a little to the imagination.

When Perry met Kiran's eyes, she stood up, smiled, and walked forward, trying to keep Asher's voice mocking her about kissing old pictures of Bruce's magazine shoots.

"And this is your interviewer, Mr. Wayne," Perry put a hand on Kiran's back as she held out her hand to shake. Perry and Bruce's eyes were drawn to the ring of purple made from Batman, but Kiran didn't wanna shake hands with her still slightly bruised knuckles. "Kiran Howell will take very good care of you."

"It's very good to meet you, Mr. Wayne," Kiran said, watching as Bruce's eyes then gave her a once over, trying not to feel vulnerable under the intense gaze. His eyes were a shocking ice blue that isn't captured right in any photograph that she's seen. Kiran isn't poetic and so can only say: they are very nice. And, after his once over, a crooked grin appeared instead of the smile he had on before, Bruce maintained eye contact with her as he grabbed her hand.

"The pleasure is all mine, Miss Howell," He had a firm handshake, "And please, call me Bruce."

"Then, call me Kiran, Bruce."

Perry continued the small tour he must have been giving Bruce, but it seemed like Bruce was only half listening. Actually, he seemed to be looking around the office, smirking and winking at some of the ladies, and then rolling his eyes when he spotted Clark Kent, still working diligently as everyone was mostly watching Gotham's Prince stroll through the office. Only a few were acting like they were still typing whatever it was. Kiran wondered if Clark and Bruce knew each other better than just the few times Clark has talked to him in a work capacity.

They got set up in one of the more casual meeting rooms, the one that was set up with two couches facing each with a coffee table separating them. Kiran thanked Perry, who told them they had free reign to the drinks at the small bar on the far side of the room near the window, before giving Kiran a clear don't fuck this up look. Kiran smiled a tight lipped, awkward grin before closing the door on him.

While Bruce snooped through the room, stopping at the bar to sniff at the whiskey in the decanter, then pour himself a glass, Kiran set herself up on the couch that looked less comfortable. If she sank into the cushions, she's not sure she would be able to interview as seriously as Perry wanted her to. Bruce looked at some of the books on the shelf that was near the bar, most of which were journalism or history, as Kiran set out her recorder for the interview and got her interview questions.

"Where'd you get that bruise on your wrist?" Bruce asked, suddenly right beside her, and Kiran flinched away, having been absorbed in reviewing her train of thought to take the interview. "Or the one on your shoulder? And what happened to your knuckles?" Bruce's empty hand came to rub the bruises gently and Kiran doesn't know why she let him. Anyone else and she would have been throwing a punch, bruised knuckles be damned. But there was something about the way Bruce was doing it, like he was almost confirming evidence with the question that made the journalistic side of Kiran respect it. Even if the touch was too soft to seem to mean that.

"Oh, some friends and I were messing around in the gym," Kiran answered, fixing her hair to hide the shoulder bruise better. A playful smile came onto her face, "And aren't I the one who's supposed to be asking the questions?"

Bruce shrugged, moving off the coffee table where he had carefully placed himself between Kiran's materials, taking a seat on the opposite couch and spreading out comfortably. The crystal glass rested between fingers on his thigh as the other arm draped itself across the back of the couch, "What can I say, you've intrigued me. I want to get to know you too."

"Well, tit for tat, Bruce," Kiran rolled her eyes, then caught herself and felt herself lock up in panic. But Bruce only chuckled as he took a sip of his whiskey, motioning with the other hand to start the whole interview. Kiran cleared her throat, started the recording device, then jumped in. "Because I'm sure our audience will be dying for the answer and so I can move on as quickly as possible, what is your relationship status, Mr. Wayne?"

Bruce snorted, "Straight to the point, Miss Howell. I'll have you know, I am very much single at the moment." Kiran blinked at him, because she knew Bruce was charming and flirty but she never expected it to be pointed at her. Sure, she had a track record when it came to billionaires and these types of things, but Bruce had always seemed unattainable. And he was. The only reason they were even meeting was supposed to be professional. "And yourself, Miss Howell."

Kiran had bluescreened and didn't realise she was answering until, "We'll see how the interview goes, then I'll tell you." Another smirk came onto Bruce's face as he lifted his glass to her in challenge.

"Cheers," and he downed the rest of his liquor.

The rest of the interview went much the same. Bruce was charming, charismatic, and funny. Some of his answers seemed rehearsed and scripted, like the board at Wayne Enterprises gave him things he needed to cover about Wayne Entertainment and Wayne Studios. Other answers, he said things like they hadn't gone through a filter in his mind. Some of them were flirty in nature, in which Kiran laughed and tried to keep on track, or they were things Bruce Wayne has sometimes been coined to say. Things like his ward, Dick Grayson, trying to flip off at least one chandelier with places that have chandeliers, or how he thinks Batman is a masochist furry playing vigilante (Kiran had snorted and laughed so hard she had to break for five minutes). (Bruce had looked unexplainably proud).

"Okay, last question," Kiran said, after they had been going back and forth for an hour. "Do you think you'll ever get in front of the camera? I'm sure loads of people would love to see Gotham's most eligible bachelor try his hand at acting."

Bruce laughed a little, leaning into Kiran's space. Throughout the interview, he had steadily made his way beside her, until they were side-by-side. It even went as far as Kiran pulling a leg up on the couch to face him and him turning his body as far as he could, and Kiran understood how all these girls fell under Bruce's spell. He was very charismatic.

"Honestly?" Bruce thought for a second. "Hadn't given it a thought." Then he thought for another second, a smirk growing wide and unhindered on his chiselled face, "Unless it was in a bedroom, and you could star in it with me."

Kiran laughed, "Don't threaten me with a good time, Mr. Wayne."

"It was a promise," Bruce said, and Kiran watched as his eyes darted down to her lips, "And I thought I told you to call me Bruce."

When Kiran was in high school, she knew she was called a whore behind her back. It wasn't hard, especially because somehow, she had game, and had in fact, slept around. She was a sucker for pretty faces and good dick/pussy. And, honestly, why was whore such a derogatory term anyway? It was a fun thing to be, in Kiran's opinion.

And so, when Bruce's hand tangled in the hair at the back of her head and he dragged her, teasingly, into his front and closed the distance between their lips, Kiran was all for being called that term. Especially if it was from between Bruce's lips, in a hoarse tone she was sure would come from the activities she was sure they were about to partake in. But, she wasn't about to fuck on company time.

She leaned back, as much as Bruce's grip would allow her, and whispered, "I think that's all the time we have for an interview, Mr. Wayne."

"Is there any way we could maybe extend it?" There was a growl in his voice, just the barest hint of one that sent delicious shivers down Kiran's spine. God, she knew, in that moment, she was wrapped around his finger.

She licked her lips, "'Fraid not." Kiran then fumbled from her held position for the coffee table, found her recording device, and pressed the button to stop recording. For good measure, she even turned it off. "But I have my break, I'm single, and, Bruce," she emphasized his name in a way she knew would get a reaction, "We have to rehearse for your so-called promise."

Kiran could hear Lily cheering her own in her brain, because that was smooth as butter, and she knew it was. And, on the other side of the chasm she called a brain, Asher was begging her not to do it. However, there is this thing that Kiran doesn't have, which is impulse control.

Bruce kisses her again and Kiran almost moans into it. He's devouring her in the most perfect ways, and she has to take a moment to enjoy it before she's leaning back again. She almost wants to just do it here, hoping nobody comes to disturb them and ride him on the sofa. But, if she wants to keep her professionalism, she's going to have to go somewhere a little more private. Doesn't mean she's not giving him another bruising kiss to watch his eyes glaze over in a perfect, lusty way. "We can't do this in here," she's standing up, grabbing her phone, notes, and recorder off of the table and, Kiran thanking her past self for even thinking about it, shoving them into a bag she had brought with everything in it.

Kiran grabbed Bruce's hand, loving the way it felt against her own. It had callouses in different places, and was just so much bigger than her own. She found that she wanted to stop and compare them, feeling the strength that obviously lie in the hands of the supposed never-working-a-day-in-his-life trust fund baby. But, they didn't have the time.

Kiran peeked both directions to see if anyone was coming, before pulling Bruce out and in the direction of the bathroom near them. It was one of those room ones that could lock, so it would be a perfect place for the tryst. There was already a sense of urgency, especially with whatever tension was mounting between the two, and it didn't help that, once around the corner, Bruce pushed Kiran against the wall and claimed her mouth. His hand had tangled in her hair, the other one lifting her thigh to wrap around his hip and Bruce Wayne was just as good a kisser, if not better, than the tabloids assumed he was. Kiran was gripping onto his lapel for dear life, pulling him closer, as he consumed her, took every inch of her with such a simple kiss.

She needed to fuck him right now.

She broke the kiss, barely, almost too lust-hazed to care about being taken in the hallway and, finally, finally, dragging him through the right door. And, let's be honest. There was no romantic preamble, no romantic gestures or strip teases or anything of the sort. As soon as they were in the bathroom, Kiran shoved Bruce against the door and was tearing at his belt with clumsy fingers, sinking to her knees. Once she had gotten him out of his trousers, leaving his belt hanging, she sucked in a breath and just appreciated the sight in front of her. Now, she could say for certain, that every part of Bruce Wayne was perfect.

And then she was taking him into her throat. The noise that left Bruce, the one of surprised lust, had Kiran shivering and swallowing around him. Bruce's fingers were in her hair, guiding her, and she could feel her own eyes rolling back into her head at the pure pleasure of this. This connection, where she could understand what Bruce was telling her in the way his hips jolted, his fingers clenched in her hair, the small noises he let escape. It was hot, it was sexy, it was the best thing Kiran had ever experienced. Or, well, maybe the second best thing.

She let his tip fall from her mouth, chin covered in saliva, throat hurting a little from the girth and the thrusting, about to tell him that she was clean, because she was positive that neither of them had protection, when there was a jangle of a door handle beside Bruce's ass. And then a knock. Kiran blinked up at Bruce, a little cock drunk, ready to beg for it, when he answered whoever was on the other side of the door, "What?!"

His voice was sharp, and a little irritated. The person on the other side seemed to stumble a little, "Sorry, Mr. Wayne!"

There was silence for a beat, then another, then Bruce was ushering Kiran up and they were kissing again, no matter the mess that Kiran's face and chin were, and Bruce's strong hands were on her skin, pulling and pressing and she was unbuttoning his shirt, wanting to feel skin as he got her pants undone. If Kiran could process more thought than just kissing, and trying not to moan, and how Bruce was suddenly picking her up, pants around her ankles, she would notice how scarred he was. Raised pink skin, some really old, some newer, coated Bruce Wayne's torso, injury upon injury, some looking painful, some small and insignificant. Her mouth found a raised scar on his collar/shoulder area and worshipped it. That was, until Bruce lined himself up with her, and gravity was doing part of the job.

She had to bite onto something or what they were doing was going to be outed to the whole tower. But Bruce just felt so good. And he set a punishing pace, one that she had to keep her mouth occupied with or else she was going to scream. Bruce must have had the same idea because he slotted their mouths together, and it couldn't be called kissing, their teeth were clashing, saliva exchanged, but they were too preoccupied with another rhythm to keep up with what their mouths were doing.

The cliff analogy felt too slow for this. That slow ascent, like the crescendo in music, was not enough. It didn't describe whatever was happening here. It was more like a bomb, one that had a short fuse and big pay off. Kiran hadn't even realized it was happening until she was untensing her jaw from where it had found a mark on Bruce's jaw. And it felt like it kept going. The aftershocks rocked through her but she couldn't get herself to beg him to stop, just clutch closer to his torso, claw at his back under his shirt, and hang on for the ride.

He was gentlemanly enough to pull out, when his fuse had been burned away into nothing. Kiran felt herself whining at the loss, but knew she would probably thank him later. Despite being on birth control, she didn't want that mess nor clean-up. But, her brain was pleasure mush. So much, in fact, that she hadn't realized she was leaning into Bruce's torso, almost falling asleep on his shoulder, until his hoarse, rough voice rumbled in her ear, "Kiran, I need you to put your feet on the ground."

It was a pleasant enough voice, and a good enough suggestion, that Kiran found herself listening. Once her feet were firmly planted, though legs jelly, she leaned up for another kiss. Bruce granted it, one arm around her back, holding her up, the other cupping her cheek and leading her into a gentle, tender kiss. Once they broke away, she blinked at him, then giggled, "Fuck."

"What?" A small, crooked grin was spreading on Bruce's face.

"I can't believe one of the best fucks of my life was at my job, in a bathroom, with Gotham's resident playboy, Bruce Wayne," Kiran said, getting her wits about her more. She started to do up his shirt, glad they hadn't popped any of the buttons off. "I'm going to give you my number, and you are going to call me next time you are in Metropolis."

Bruce was fixing her hair, his dexterous hands making quick work of somehow tying it into an updo without a hair elastic or scrunchie. "Is this how you usually ask men to see you again?"

Kiran smiled up at him as she smooth some wrinkles on his shirt, as he righted her clothes, and she stopped and rested her chin on his chest as she pretended to think, "Only the ones I really wanna see again."

They cleaned up as best they could, and Kiran cringed at the sight of her make-up in the mirror. Bruce, honestly too kind for his reputation, helped her fix it as best as he could, then straightened out his clothes better than Kiran ever could. As he was making sure he looked alright in the small mirror that was in the bathroom, Kiran dipped her hand into his pocket and stole his cellphone, holding it up for him to put in the code. Then, she was inputting her phone number, like she said, and handing it back to him. Bruce messed around on the device for a second once back in his hand.

Kiran's phone rang with an unfamiliar number. She laughed as she answered, put it to her ear, and watched Bruce mirror her, "You always call the girls you hook up with right after?"

Bruce smirked with a small shrug, "Only the ones I want to see again."

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my favourite pass time is updating when liv is asleep <3

also, my w key is whacked, so if see an as or ant or something that should have a w in it, pls pretend there is. anways, enjoy the smut, i love kiran, i hope bruce wasn't too ooc. i wanted to lean more into brucie instead of batman to show contrast and ehhhhhh idk if it hit but it as delicious so.

until next time, loves <3

(for coure, always)

(and liv too, i guess)