FIC: Spring, It Never Was
I totally forgot to repost this Secret Santa story back in my journal. I had a bit of a fit over this story because nothign seemed to work... so I added the translation of the lyrics of 'Primavera Nunca Fue' in the beginning, with the hope that they could simbolize the endless possibilities and the windows of oportunity that will yet come that I couldn't put into words in the story. It was interesting to write invisible sex, though, and Terrific stole the show. Mmm, Michael.
Title: Spring, it never was
Claim No.: 107 by jen_in_japan
Prompt: Batman watches Superman and Mr. Terrific having sex on the Watchtower monitors (keeping in mind Mr. Terrific is invisible and inaudible to all electronics)
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 2284
Our story is like a window in spring,
It opens easily and stays always open,
Letting in the perfume of the summer we’re waiting for,
It should come, but it never does, and our thoughts fly away.
Our attention falls only on beautiful things,
The sunny prairie, the white daisies.
Later the snow falls and the spring, it never was.
--Primavera Nunca Fue, Tiziano Ferro
Batman checked the minimized clock on the computer womb screen. 11:40 pm, Gotham time. Six hours and twenty minutes more of monitor duty and he would be free to go home and sleep. Sleep was high on the day’s agenda, followed closely by humoring Alfred during lunch and trying to be suitably stupid and pleasant during his birthday party.
He sighed, dreading the rest of the day. Turning one year older was something that didn’t sit very well with him. His body was getting one year closer to betraying him, and the job was still a very physical one; each year it took him longer to heal when he was injured and some of his injures had never fully recuperated. It was the toll of life, and though he didn’t exactly mind growing older, his patience with the vicissitudes of having a double life was growing thinner.
He had no desire to go to the Manor and entertain a variety of guests that made him juggle his personas -he couldn’t very well look like a stupid vapid, playboy with people that were giving him money for charities, or with the executives of WE, but he couldn’t put on his corporate mask in the company of the debutantes, and he hated acting like an idiot when capes who knew his Batman persona were present.
He slid down the chair, getting more comfortable. He was just very tired, that was it. He was still trying to rebuild burned bridges with the League, Gotham was the same as ever, and on top of that, he was daring to attempt a relationship of sorts.
He didn’t know how he had found it in him to try, but it was nice, having another cape to talk to, someone who understood his fears and his hopes. It helped that they had so much in common. Even before getting together, they had gone out of their way to help each other, talk and touch and bond. It wasn’t something Batman did often, least of all in the recent years.
Yet here he was. Waiting for his boyfriend to come to the Watchtower so they could have some alone time while they upgraded the software. The sub station was empty -Batman had a couple of educated guesses on who had arranged that. Some of his team members knew of his new involvement and were being rather gracious about it. He smiled despite himself, pulling from his belt the anonymous card he had found on the monitor womb.
“The system upgrade is due. I’m sure you can think of something to make the night more entertaining, so the way is cleared. Happy birthday!”
He chewed his lower lip, trying to stop a fond smile from fully blossoming on his lips. Maybe not all the bridges had been burned.
A shift on the glare of the screen caught his attention, and he looked up. A new window had opened, taking up most of the space on the monitor. It had been a time trigger -it had just struck 12:00 in Gotham. The screen turned gray, and all the keyboards were blocked. He frowned, and attempted to bypass the locks, but the computer was unresponsive. He was about to reset the system manually when the gray faded and the screen filled with the view of one of the Watchtower’s quarters.
His frown deepened. He noticed the date on the video feed -it was a week old, and it had no security code. Someone had been tampering with the security feeds, the cameras weren’t even supposed to be taping the living quarters.
Batman’s eyes grew wide behind the cowl as the door of the room in the video opened. Superman walked into the room, a look of shocked surprise on his face. He closed the door behind him, and stammered. “I-- I didn’t think you were being serious…”
Batman examined what was visible in the room, but his eyes kept darting back to Superman. He didn’t see anyone with him, and for a second he thought Superman was talking to him.
“I’m sorry, I’m just blown away. You really want this?” Superman’s voice was clear and strong on the computer’s speakers.
Batman set his chin on one hand, staring at the video in confusion.
“No, no. I do. I want a lot of things, and most of them have no place in my either of my lives. I was surprised when you came to me. I mean… why me?”
Bruce pursed his lips. Superman was obviously not talking to him. There was someone in the room, he just couldn’t see or hear- oh. Well, that explained a lot.
“I don’t want this to make things awkward between us.” Superman paused, tilting his head slightly. He seemed eerily intense on the screen, his red and blues in sharp contrast to the clinical environment of the Watchtower’s living quarters. “I guess you’re right. Maybe that should change. We should interact more. I want to make my team my family again; I want to be close with each of you.”
Superman laughed in response to something the other person had said, a powerful sound that made Batman swallow loudly. “I would if I could. I really care about every one of you. I want to trust you and be able to-“
Superman frowned. “I know what this is and what it isn’t. But when I say I care, I mean it.”
Leave it to Clark to care about everyone, to be so eager to get close to others. Batman closed his eyes for a moment. A part of him really didn’t want to see what would ensue, but the rest of him knew that this was, short of spying on the man, the only chance he would have to see him in all his glory. Still, it hurt. Clark was passion, trust and love, and completely out of his reach.
Superman walked to stand next to the single bed in the corner of the room. The mattress and the covers showed the evidence of having someone on top of them, wrinkling and bending around the invisible weight. Superman reached out to touch the empty air, his fingertips grazing- what? Bruce wondered. A face? Full lips? Curly dark hair? His hand lingered for a bit -over the lips, Bruce decided- and started a slow journey across an invisible jaw, an exposed neck, down the chest, fingernails raking sensitive skin absentmindedly.
Batman sat up, adjusting his weight on the chair. Superman should look ridiculous, seducing the thin air, except the man wore blue and red tights, and if he didn’t look ridiculous like that then he wasn’t going to look ridiculous doing anything else. Batman could almost feel the ghost touch as he saw the strong hands exploring the unseen body.
Smiling, Superman took a step back and unclasped his cape, letting it fall to the floor, pooling around him. Slowly -agonizingly slow, the tease- he started to undress, getting rid of his belt in one fluid motion, the yellow leather sliding against the red spandex like a caress. Batman’s throat went dry. Next was the blue top, and though logic dictated that spandex wasn’t exactly a concealing agent and there couldn’t be much left to the imagination under it, the sight of Superman’s bare skin always did things to Bruce. It was the pretense of vulnerability, perhaps, or the display of trust. The hem of the top caught in his head, messing with the perfect spit curl and the black mane, giving Superman a wild air.
Superman sat on the bed, taking off his boots, and Batman looked for the minute pressure on the back of the Kryptonian that was the telltale of an invisible hand touching the unmarred skin. The invisible pressure ran along Kal’s side, up his back and splaying between his shoulder blades. Kal took off his tights, climbing onto the bed naked. The angle of the camera didn’t allow for Batman to catch Superman’s expression, and he wondered if that was a good or a bad thing.
Kal’s skin was sun-kissed and perfect, not a blemish or mark to be found. His muscles rippled as he dipped his body forward to capture invisible lips. Bruce caught himself absently touching his lips as he watched the screen, and fisted his hands tightly over his lap.
What followed was, as far as Batman could conclude, Superman licking his invisible partner from neck to toe, quite literally, and a languid blowjob. Batman stared at the way Kal’s cheeks hollowed as he sucked and licked the empty air. Seeing Kal -sweet, dependable Clark- in the midst of sex by himself was close to obscene, but Bruce couldn’t find it in himself to look away. After a while, Kal stood up next to the bed, staring down at the seemingly empty bed. His eyes seemed to have shifted from their unique azure to glowing silver, and they made Kal look eerily alien.
Bruce took the cowl off and rubbed his eyes. Kal was so special, a glittering star above them, everyone looking at him for guidance, for knowledge, for love. Bruce wasn’t any better, a castaway looking at his star from the distance. It was stupid, and he knew it, but he knew that if he got closer, he would burn away, unable to contain all the energy and passion that Kal had for living.
Why was Terrific showing him this?
Kal was hard and slick as he carefully rocked against his lover. That Bruce couldn’t see Michael didn’t make things any better; he could picture Kal with someone else easily. As much as he tried to keep the images from his mind, he couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to be there, with Kal, to be the one that elicited the pleasure filled moans and whispers that were filling the monitor room. What would Kal’s skin feel like, how did his silver eyes looked like up close.
Kals’ skin glistened with sweat, and Bruce could distinguish the pressure marks of hands on his sides as the invisible lover tried to find purchase on the invulnerable body. The pace of their encounter was growing faster, more frantic, and Kal’s moans turned to a hum that gave Bruce goose bumps, his voice changing from human registers to something else. Marks of reddened skin appeared on the Kryptonian’s back as his lover scratched him, obviously as lost in their passion as Kal was.
Kal’s body was taut for a moment of ecstasy, and then he shuddered, thrusting at the thin air as he rode the waves of pleasure, the rapture of his face once more obscured by the angle of the camera. The video stopped, freezing the moment for Bruce to look over with a reverence often saved for works of art or beautiful displays of raw nature.
Bruce had never seen anything quite as beautiful as Kal, unearthly grace and power married with human love and joy. He didn’t know whether to curse or thank Terrific for making him see the video.
The door to the monitor room opened. The footsteps were familiar, and Batman didn’t bother to try to get rid of the fixed video image of a sated, glowing, naked Superman. His hands were sweaty inside the gloves, and his skin itched, wanting to reach into the screen and touch. The image on the screen was now etched forever into his mind.
He hoped that single image would be enough.
“Hey, B. Did you enjoy your present?”
A pair of strong leather clad hands grasped Bruce’s shoulders from behind, the smell of leather filling his senses.
“I’m not sure why you would get me this,” Bruce said, gesturing vaguely at the video.
“Because you want it, but you’re too stubborn to go for it. You think he wouldn’t want you.” The hands on his shoulders slid to his chest, hugging him from behind.
Bruce kept quiet for a moment. He didn’t know what to say to his lover, who obviously knew him better than he should. “I don’t want to hurt him, and I would. Just like I will hurt you.” Bruce raised a gloved hand from the keyboard to his chest, keeping the hands of the other in place, over his heart. “I’m not good at this. I’m sorry, Michael.”
Mr. Terrific laughed. “You don’t have to apologize. I know you well enough not to take offense. Besides, you took a chance on us, not on him. You’re with me. That means something.”
Bruce nodded with a rueful smile on his lips. “So, you slept with Superman on my behalf,” Bruce said, sarcasm dripping from his voice. “How very selfless of you.”
“I won’t deny it was fun,” Michael said playfully. “You look like it was stressful to watch,” he said, his voice laced with concern. He ran his hands from the Kevlar clad chest to the hips, tugging at the utility belt.
“It’s… complicated.” Bruce said, frowning. He worried his lip, and after a moment he grinned mischievously. “But we can save it for later so we can study it together.”
“Sounds like a plan. I’m sure I can give you some pretty insightful clues, if you have any questions.”
Batman chuckled, and closed the video feed now that the keyboard lock had been lifted. He shook his head in disbelief as Mr. Terrific stood up and headed for the other chair. He pushed all thoughts of unmarred expanses of skin and intense blue eyes, of leather clad callused hands and ebony skin away from his mind, and turned to the monitors with a small smile on his face.
They had work to do.
Title: Spring, it never was
Claim No.: 107 by jen_in_japan
Prompt: Batman watches Superman and Mr. Terrific having sex on the Watchtower monitors (keeping in mind Mr. Terrific is invisible and inaudible to all electronics)
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 2284
Our story is like a window in spring,
It opens easily and stays always open,
Letting in the perfume of the summer we’re waiting for,
It should come, but it never does, and our thoughts fly away.
Our attention falls only on beautiful things,
The sunny prairie, the white daisies.
Later the snow falls and the spring, it never was.
--Primavera Nunca Fue, Tiziano Ferro
Batman checked the minimized clock on the computer womb screen. 11:40 pm, Gotham time. Six hours and twenty minutes more of monitor duty and he would be free to go home and sleep. Sleep was high on the day’s agenda, followed closely by humoring Alfred during lunch and trying to be suitably stupid and pleasant during his birthday party.
He sighed, dreading the rest of the day. Turning one year older was something that didn’t sit very well with him. His body was getting one year closer to betraying him, and the job was still a very physical one; each year it took him longer to heal when he was injured and some of his injures had never fully recuperated. It was the toll of life, and though he didn’t exactly mind growing older, his patience with the vicissitudes of having a double life was growing thinner.
He had no desire to go to the Manor and entertain a variety of guests that made him juggle his personas -he couldn’t very well look like a stupid vapid, playboy with people that were giving him money for charities, or with the executives of WE, but he couldn’t put on his corporate mask in the company of the debutantes, and he hated acting like an idiot when capes who knew his Batman persona were present.
He slid down the chair, getting more comfortable. He was just very tired, that was it. He was still trying to rebuild burned bridges with the League, Gotham was the same as ever, and on top of that, he was daring to attempt a relationship of sorts.
He didn’t know how he had found it in him to try, but it was nice, having another cape to talk to, someone who understood his fears and his hopes. It helped that they had so much in common. Even before getting together, they had gone out of their way to help each other, talk and touch and bond. It wasn’t something Batman did often, least of all in the recent years.
Yet here he was. Waiting for his boyfriend to come to the Watchtower so they could have some alone time while they upgraded the software. The sub station was empty -Batman had a couple of educated guesses on who had arranged that. Some of his team members knew of his new involvement and were being rather gracious about it. He smiled despite himself, pulling from his belt the anonymous card he had found on the monitor womb.
“The system upgrade is due. I’m sure you can think of something to make the night more entertaining, so the way is cleared. Happy birthday!”
He chewed his lower lip, trying to stop a fond smile from fully blossoming on his lips. Maybe not all the bridges had been burned.
A shift on the glare of the screen caught his attention, and he looked up. A new window had opened, taking up most of the space on the monitor. It had been a time trigger -it had just struck 12:00 in Gotham. The screen turned gray, and all the keyboards were blocked. He frowned, and attempted to bypass the locks, but the computer was unresponsive. He was about to reset the system manually when the gray faded and the screen filled with the view of one of the Watchtower’s quarters.
His frown deepened. He noticed the date on the video feed -it was a week old, and it had no security code. Someone had been tampering with the security feeds, the cameras weren’t even supposed to be taping the living quarters.
Batman’s eyes grew wide behind the cowl as the door of the room in the video opened. Superman walked into the room, a look of shocked surprise on his face. He closed the door behind him, and stammered. “I-- I didn’t think you were being serious…”
Batman examined what was visible in the room, but his eyes kept darting back to Superman. He didn’t see anyone with him, and for a second he thought Superman was talking to him.
“I’m sorry, I’m just blown away. You really want this?” Superman’s voice was clear and strong on the computer’s speakers.
Batman set his chin on one hand, staring at the video in confusion.
“No, no. I do. I want a lot of things, and most of them have no place in my either of my lives. I was surprised when you came to me. I mean… why me?”
Bruce pursed his lips. Superman was obviously not talking to him. There was someone in the room, he just couldn’t see or hear- oh. Well, that explained a lot.
“I don’t want this to make things awkward between us.” Superman paused, tilting his head slightly. He seemed eerily intense on the screen, his red and blues in sharp contrast to the clinical environment of the Watchtower’s living quarters. “I guess you’re right. Maybe that should change. We should interact more. I want to make my team my family again; I want to be close with each of you.”
Superman laughed in response to something the other person had said, a powerful sound that made Batman swallow loudly. “I would if I could. I really care about every one of you. I want to trust you and be able to-“
Superman frowned. “I know what this is and what it isn’t. But when I say I care, I mean it.”
Leave it to Clark to care about everyone, to be so eager to get close to others. Batman closed his eyes for a moment. A part of him really didn’t want to see what would ensue, but the rest of him knew that this was, short of spying on the man, the only chance he would have to see him in all his glory. Still, it hurt. Clark was passion, trust and love, and completely out of his reach.
Superman walked to stand next to the single bed in the corner of the room. The mattress and the covers showed the evidence of having someone on top of them, wrinkling and bending around the invisible weight. Superman reached out to touch the empty air, his fingertips grazing- what? Bruce wondered. A face? Full lips? Curly dark hair? His hand lingered for a bit -over the lips, Bruce decided- and started a slow journey across an invisible jaw, an exposed neck, down the chest, fingernails raking sensitive skin absentmindedly.
Batman sat up, adjusting his weight on the chair. Superman should look ridiculous, seducing the thin air, except the man wore blue and red tights, and if he didn’t look ridiculous like that then he wasn’t going to look ridiculous doing anything else. Batman could almost feel the ghost touch as he saw the strong hands exploring the unseen body.
Smiling, Superman took a step back and unclasped his cape, letting it fall to the floor, pooling around him. Slowly -agonizingly slow, the tease- he started to undress, getting rid of his belt in one fluid motion, the yellow leather sliding against the red spandex like a caress. Batman’s throat went dry. Next was the blue top, and though logic dictated that spandex wasn’t exactly a concealing agent and there couldn’t be much left to the imagination under it, the sight of Superman’s bare skin always did things to Bruce. It was the pretense of vulnerability, perhaps, or the display of trust. The hem of the top caught in his head, messing with the perfect spit curl and the black mane, giving Superman a wild air.
Superman sat on the bed, taking off his boots, and Batman looked for the minute pressure on the back of the Kryptonian that was the telltale of an invisible hand touching the unmarred skin. The invisible pressure ran along Kal’s side, up his back and splaying between his shoulder blades. Kal took off his tights, climbing onto the bed naked. The angle of the camera didn’t allow for Batman to catch Superman’s expression, and he wondered if that was a good or a bad thing.
Kal’s skin was sun-kissed and perfect, not a blemish or mark to be found. His muscles rippled as he dipped his body forward to capture invisible lips. Bruce caught himself absently touching his lips as he watched the screen, and fisted his hands tightly over his lap.
What followed was, as far as Batman could conclude, Superman licking his invisible partner from neck to toe, quite literally, and a languid blowjob. Batman stared at the way Kal’s cheeks hollowed as he sucked and licked the empty air. Seeing Kal -sweet, dependable Clark- in the midst of sex by himself was close to obscene, but Bruce couldn’t find it in himself to look away. After a while, Kal stood up next to the bed, staring down at the seemingly empty bed. His eyes seemed to have shifted from their unique azure to glowing silver, and they made Kal look eerily alien.
Bruce took the cowl off and rubbed his eyes. Kal was so special, a glittering star above them, everyone looking at him for guidance, for knowledge, for love. Bruce wasn’t any better, a castaway looking at his star from the distance. It was stupid, and he knew it, but he knew that if he got closer, he would burn away, unable to contain all the energy and passion that Kal had for living.
Why was Terrific showing him this?
Kal was hard and slick as he carefully rocked against his lover. That Bruce couldn’t see Michael didn’t make things any better; he could picture Kal with someone else easily. As much as he tried to keep the images from his mind, he couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to be there, with Kal, to be the one that elicited the pleasure filled moans and whispers that were filling the monitor room. What would Kal’s skin feel like, how did his silver eyes looked like up close.
Kals’ skin glistened with sweat, and Bruce could distinguish the pressure marks of hands on his sides as the invisible lover tried to find purchase on the invulnerable body. The pace of their encounter was growing faster, more frantic, and Kal’s moans turned to a hum that gave Bruce goose bumps, his voice changing from human registers to something else. Marks of reddened skin appeared on the Kryptonian’s back as his lover scratched him, obviously as lost in their passion as Kal was.
Kal’s body was taut for a moment of ecstasy, and then he shuddered, thrusting at the thin air as he rode the waves of pleasure, the rapture of his face once more obscured by the angle of the camera. The video stopped, freezing the moment for Bruce to look over with a reverence often saved for works of art or beautiful displays of raw nature.
Bruce had never seen anything quite as beautiful as Kal, unearthly grace and power married with human love and joy. He didn’t know whether to curse or thank Terrific for making him see the video.
The door to the monitor room opened. The footsteps were familiar, and Batman didn’t bother to try to get rid of the fixed video image of a sated, glowing, naked Superman. His hands were sweaty inside the gloves, and his skin itched, wanting to reach into the screen and touch. The image on the screen was now etched forever into his mind.
He hoped that single image would be enough.
“Hey, B. Did you enjoy your present?”
A pair of strong leather clad hands grasped Bruce’s shoulders from behind, the smell of leather filling his senses.
“I’m not sure why you would get me this,” Bruce said, gesturing vaguely at the video.
“Because you want it, but you’re too stubborn to go for it. You think he wouldn’t want you.” The hands on his shoulders slid to his chest, hugging him from behind.
Bruce kept quiet for a moment. He didn’t know what to say to his lover, who obviously knew him better than he should. “I don’t want to hurt him, and I would. Just like I will hurt you.” Bruce raised a gloved hand from the keyboard to his chest, keeping the hands of the other in place, over his heart. “I’m not good at this. I’m sorry, Michael.”
Mr. Terrific laughed. “You don’t have to apologize. I know you well enough not to take offense. Besides, you took a chance on us, not on him. You’re with me. That means something.”
Bruce nodded with a rueful smile on his lips. “So, you slept with Superman on my behalf,” Bruce said, sarcasm dripping from his voice. “How very selfless of you.”
“I won’t deny it was fun,” Michael said playfully. “You look like it was stressful to watch,” he said, his voice laced with concern. He ran his hands from the Kevlar clad chest to the hips, tugging at the utility belt.
“It’s… complicated.” Bruce said, frowning. He worried his lip, and after a moment he grinned mischievously. “But we can save it for later so we can study it together.”
“Sounds like a plan. I’m sure I can give you some pretty insightful clues, if you have any questions.”
Batman chuckled, and closed the video feed now that the keyboard lock had been lifted. He shook his head in disbelief as Mr. Terrific stood up and headed for the other chair. He pushed all thoughts of unmarred expanses of skin and intense blue eyes, of leather clad callused hands and ebony skin away from his mind, and turned to the monitors with a small smile on his face.
They had work to do.