Fic: Morning (II): At The Kent Farm
Title: Morning (II): At The Kent Farm
Pairings/Characters: Clark/Bruce
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: None, unless steamy sex counts! J
Spoilers: None
Summary: Waking up bright and early on the Kent farm…
Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, DC does, more’s the pity.
Date Of Completion: March 3, 2007
Date Of Posting: March 4, 2007
Word Count: 1269
Author’s Note: I guess the Morning fics just do ‘speedfic’ quite well. I got the
idea for this a few hours ago and it just flowed onto the page (or in this case,
computer screen). The entire series can be found here. Please enjoy! Feedback
appreciated! :)
Bruce awoke as sunlight streamed in through the filmy muslin curtains at the window. Of course, why would Clark
have nice, thick drapes! The man lived for the sun!
He yawned and then looked at said man curled up beside him, arms around his torso. For a man who claimed not
to need more than a few hours of sleep to function (he needed to dream or face some serious problems) he seemed
to sleep like a log when he was with Bruce.
Bruce let a smile curve his lips. Sleep like a log. Probably some Kansas saying.
He looked around the room. A room not quite frozen in time, but close: an X-wing and model of the Enterprise
hanging from the ceiling; paperbacks arranged neatly in a pine bookcase that Clark had made with his father; an
old-fashioned desk with a glass-and-wood top that showcased a jumble of childhood memories: painted ceramic
horses from the carnival, carved wooden toys bought at antique shops or yard sales or made by Jonathan;
well-loved puppets and action figures scattered around, and a paperweight from the Metropolis Science Museum.
There were posters of the Metropolis skyline, the starting quarterback for the Metropolis Sharks from ten years
ago, the movies The Day The Earth Stood Still and The Maltese Falcon. A painting of the Kent farmhouse
hung over the highboy. Martha was no Georgia O’Keefe, but she had some talent with canvas and brush.
Bruce looked up at the ceiling. Stars sparkled gold in constellations on the light-blue paint. In the dark, they
glowed.
From the barn a cow was lowing, and crows were cawing in the maple tree outside the window. Bruce nearly
laughed. How rustic could it get? What would the tabloids say if they could see suave, sophisticated Bruce Wayne
waking up on a farm in the middle of the American heartland?
Bruce smiled and laid his head on Clark’s chest. He didn’t care what they would say.
The smell of bacon and eggs wafted up from the kitchen and Clark slowly came awake. “Mmm,” he purred, his other
arm coming around to hold Bruce even more firmly against him. “’Mornin’, Bruce.”
“Good morning, Clark.” Bruce lifted his head and brushed the Superman curl off Clark’s forehead. “Did you have a
good night’s sleep?”
“You mean after we fucked each other’s brains out?”
“Clark!” Bruce feigned shock. “Such language!”
Clark chuckled. “Don’t worry, my mom doesn’t have super-hearing. My mouth is safe from the soap.”
“Did you ever get it washed out with soap?” Bruce asked curiously.
“Once.” Clark grinned at the memory. “I’d learned a naughty word at school but didn’t realize it was naughty. I said it
in innocence but Mom wanted to reinforce my remembrance not to say it again, at least not in polite company.”
Bruce was amused at the thought of Clark Kent getting his mouth washed out with soap.
“Well, the lesson must have stuck. You swear the least of any grown man I’ve ever met.”
“That’s because I’m a gentleman,” Clark said loftily.
Bruce snorted and squeezed Clark’s buttock. “Luckily for me that doesn’t apply in bed.”
“Oh, yeah?” Clark said with a grin as he rolled over on top of Bruce, plying him with kisses. Arousal was easy to
come by as their cocks rubbed together, Clark sliding his hips up and down, raining kisses over Bruce’s nose,
cheeks and mouth. His lips moved down to the collarbone, tasting all the way across the broad chest and suckling
on a nipple. Bruce groaned, bucking beneath his lover, and Clark slipped down to breathe lightly over Bruce’s
cock, then engulfed it in one quick movement.
Bruce jammed a hand in his mouth to keep from shouting. Clark’s parents were pretty cool, but somehow listening
to the shouts of their son’s gay lover in the throes of passion might be going a little too far. Clark merely looked up
at him with amusement glittering in his eyes and he sucked with all the skill of a practiced whore, Bruce thought with
his own amusement. He whimpered as Clark pulled away, leaving a very hot cock unattended.
“Wha…?”
Clark kissed him and then rolled onto his stomach, legs spread and ready. Bruce gulped as he managed to kneel,
quickly prepared the both of them with a jar of cream from the nightstand, even though technically Clark didn’t need it
but it helped Bruce, and then gently separated those luscious cheeks and slipped in.
The rhythm was hard and fast, Bruce beyond any foreplay as the glorious sensation of Clark’s body closed tight and
hot around him, his cock giving pleasure as he watched Clark throw his head back, sweat glistening on smooth,
perfect skin. Bruce grasped his lover’s hips and moaned at the gliding sensation and hot friction, his primitive
instincts rising to the fore and he thrust one final time with a growled, “Mine!” before collapsing on top of the
sweat-sheened body, lightly nipping the nape of Clark’s neck.
Clark groaned and came, and Bruce figured they would have to volunteer for laundry duty. He chuckled into Clark’s
ear.
“What’s so funny?” The pout in Clark’s voice was priceless.
“Just thinking that we’d better tell your mom we’ll do the laundry today.”
Clark blushed to the roots of his hair and Bruce eased out of him, arms and legs entangling as Clark pulled the sheet
and blanket up.
They rested in each other’s arms, listening to the sounds of Martha preparing breakfast in the kitchen and Jonathan
closing the barn door and walking toward the house.
Bruce grunted, “I suppose we better get showered and dressed.”
Clark said, “In a minute.” He traced his hand across Bruce’s chest, then kissed him on the lips. Bruce felt a deep
sense of peace settle over him.
He could hear the murmur of voices in the kitchen. It sounded like Dick was already up and downstairs.
Vacation at the Kent farm had been a good idea. Martha and Jonathan accepted him as their son’s lover, and they
loved to have them for a visit. Dick had joined them because he loved the Kent farm and was Martha’s darling and
Jonathan’s shadow as the older man worked the farm. And, he had said with a twinkle in his eye, he welcomed the
chance to see Bruce relaxed.
Brat.
It was a vacation of wonderful breakfasts, long walks through cornfields, swims at the local pond, hearty lunches,
chores around the farm (Clark still laughed over Bruce milking the cows), and quiet, happy evenings around the TV
or fireplace.
“Mmm, Mom picked some strawberries. She’ll have a fresh bowl all set out for us.” Clark kissed Bruce’s nose and
slipped out of his embrace. “I’ll shower first.”
Bruce got a magnificent view before Clark pulled on his old robe and slippers and winked at him before exiting the
room.
Strawberries and Clark.
What more could a Batman ask for?
& & & & & &
Martha turned and said to Dick, “Oh, darling, do you think I should cook some eggs and bacon for Clark and
Bruce?”
Dick was sitting at the table and smiled. “I heard Clark run the shower. I think we’ll see him down before Jonathan
comes in from the barn.” He chuckled. “Clark, that is, not Bruce. Super-speed has its advantages.”
As Martha broke a few new eggs over the frying pan, Dick thought, Man, it must be love to get Bruce up this
early in the morning! and smiled joyously as Jonathan came into the kitchen and Clark reached the bottom of the
stairs with sparkling eyes.