Bruce was new to dating men. It wasn’t that he’d just realized he liked them - he’d known that for a while. But between his demanding life and the reputation he’d cultivated as a playboy, a womanizer like every other billionaire in Gotham, he’d never found the time to date genuinely.

Still, Bruce decided to give it a shot - and when he did, he never expected it to be so... strange. He wasn’t sure if he’d picked the weirdest man alive or if this was just how men acted when they were, for lack of a better word, comfortable. Comfortable, yeah. Then again, none of his friends behaved like you. So maybe it was, in fact, just you.

Bruce never expected to find himself like this - shirtless, propped against the headboard, doing absolutely nothing. His lower half tangled in silky sheets as moonlight filtered through the slits in the curtains. You were draped across him, your weight resting comfortably on his chest.

Suddenly, a sharp, burning pain shot through his arm. "Ow!" he yelped. "That one was rough." He rubbed the spot. His expression somewhere between exasperated and amused. "You're like a zombie, you know that?" He shook his head, already knowing what it was - another one of your infamous bites. Not gentle love bites either, more like you were actually trying to eat him alive.