FIC: 36 Views of Mt. Fuji: Summer (9/9)
Title: 36 Views of Mt. Fuji: Summer (9/9)
Pairing: Clark/Bruce
Disclaimer: The boys belong to DC and to each other, but not to me.
Series Notes: 36 Views of Mt. Fuji is a series set early in Batman and Superman's careers, shortly after the S/B annual #1. The full series can be found here.
Rating: NC-17
Summary: An uninvited visitor at the Manor leads to the inevitable, as well as the inevitable re-negotiations after. Robin starts to put some pieces together, as does a less friendly person.
Word Count: 3400
Even if I now saw you
only once,
I would long for you
through worlds,
worlds.
--Izumi Shikibu
Batman closed a window on the computer--the report filed by Arkham employees to the police every week on patient status--and stifled a sigh, pulling off his cowl and rubbing his eyes.
"Aren't you done yet? You've been working hard all night since you got home, it feels like you should be caught up. You weren't even gone for a week, and it was really quiet." The voice came from behind him, where Robin was absent-mindedly performing handsprings and cartwheels along the edge of one of the cave's drop-offs. Bruce had told him he could practice just as well on a flat, safe surface, but Dick insisted it "dulled his edge."
"One never gets 'caught up' on the war against crime, Robin," Batman said quellingly, but Robin just laughed. A quick, turning leap and he was balanced on the back of Batman's chair; Bruce shifted his weight to compensate and Robin's hands danced in the air for balance.
"Are you worried about Clark?" the boy asked. "Why didn't he come visit?"
"We're both very busy men," Bruce said.
"Clark's never been too busy for his friends before," Robin muttered, and Bruce felt a pang at the sadness in his voice.
"He really wanted to come see you," he said, feeling the boy's smile in his posture and small leap that jarred the chair. "You'll always be his friend. But maybe he just needed some time apart from Batman. It's not like I'm very good company," he added, hating the thread of self-pity in his voice, too tired to keep it out.
A quick flip and Robin was balancing on his hands on the back of the chair. His cape streamed down like sunlight across the chair. "Is it because you're gay?"
Bruce didn't betray his surprise with an effort; the topic of his sexuality had never really come up. The boy was a sharp study. He listened for disgust or repulsion in the echoes of Dick's question and heard only curiosity and concern. Robin spoke again into the silence: "I don't mind, you know. It's not a big deal. I can't believe it would be to Superman, either. No way."
Bruce collected his thoughts. "No, I don't think it's connected to my sexuality. Well, not exactly," he added lamely.
Robin pushed off the chair and landed with a catlike thump next to it. "Hey," he said as if a thought had just occurred to him, "How do we know Clark's not gay? Maybe he's secretly in love with you and is staying away because he's afraid he'll show it!" He did a quick handspring and came up grinning at Bruce. "Man, if you fell in love with him too...that'd be awesome. He could come and have dinner here all the time and we could have incredible adventures together and..." He trailed off at the look on Bruce's face. "Bruce...are you in love with Clark?"
Batman stood up abruptly. "I think we should get some dinner or Alfred will be even more difficult to live with than usual," he said, gathering his cape around him and heading to change.
Robin followed after a thoughtful pause.
: : :
Superman soared above the night sky of Metropolis. It was a quiet night: just a few muggings here and there. A quiet night.
That wasn't good. A quiet night gave him time to think. He didn't want to think.
He lifted up higher until Metropolis was a cascade of lights below him. The air was hot and humid, even this high. It wrapped around his body, coaxing.
Clark sighed. He had spent most of the flight back from Japan trying not to think about Bruce Wayne. Trying not to remember how skillful his hands had been, how confident...and how that confidence and control had crumbled into lust against him.
Bruce had wanted it, that was obvious. Wanted it for just that moment, a wave of desire that had broken and passed? A chance to debauch a virgin--and a virgin Superman at that?
Well, Clark reflected ruefully, if that had been Bruce's motivation, he had failed. Clark felt painfully...undebauched.
He looked down to realize abruptly that he was over Gotham now. When had that happened? Well, since he was there already, he might want to make sure Wayne Manor was still standing. You never knew...
Wayne Manor was still standing, shadowed and quiet on the north outskirts of Gotham. As Superman watched from far above, a light went off in a room on the second floor. He drifted a little closer, resisting the temptation to use his super-hearing to catch the sound of Bruce's voice, the beat of his heart...he didn't have the right, really.
And it might hurt too much.
A gust of wind moved across the woods near the Manor and reached Clark in a rush of pine scent, sweet and sharp. The gardens around the Manor were a riot of summer blossoms; did the butler do all the gardening as well? Clark could smell tea rose and thyme and he wondered which of those many windows Bruce was behind, if he was in the house at all...the darkened window was right in front of him now, and Clark had no real memory of getting that close. He should be going back to Metropolis, not mooning outside the Manor like an insane combination of Romeo and Peter Pan...
The light on the room in front of him snapped on without warning. Dick Grayson stepped into the room and stopped dead at the sight of Superman hovering outside the window.
Clark considered his options, rejected disappearing in a burst of superspeed, and raised a hand in a feeble wave instead.
Dick threw open the window. The smile on his face was welcoming and maybe just a bit smug. "Clark? Why are you outside of our library?"
Clark shrugged nonchalantly. "Checking on you. It's been a while. How are things as Robin?"
"Checking on me," Dick echoed with a grin. "Well," he said, leaping onto the sill, "Being Robin is fantastic!" He spun on the sill. "I think I can really help Bruce a lot--" He wobbled a bit and Superman moved forward in a quick motion of concern; the boy laughed and leaped across the gap between them, grabbing Clark's scarlet cape and hanging from the hem. "You worry about me too much," Dick noted as he dangled and Clark spluttered, caught between annoyance and laughter.
"Dick? Who are you talking--oh." Bruce came to the window to glare at both of them. His hair was damp and he was wearing a burgundy dressing gown of some thick, soft fabric; Clark's hands itched as he stared.
Dick swung from Superman's cape like a Christmas ornament, chuckling. "Just hanging with Superman, Bruce," he said cheerfully, and the older man rolled his eyes, then fixed his glare on Kal once more.
"I was in the area," Superman said lamely.
"You were, were you," stated Bruce. Dick did a quick upward flip and caught hold of the crimson cape again on his way down. Bruce opened the window a little wider. "Well, you'd better come in. I don't want the neighbors wondering why Superman is chatting me up outside my window."
Clark started to note that Wayne Manor had no neighbors for miles, then thought better of it and headed inside, taking a moment to flip the chortling boy into a somersault and into the room.
The library was lined with dark walnut bookcases. A desk cluttered with paper was up against the far wall, and a Queen Anne-style sofa covered in brocade sat in the center of the room. Clark stood awkwardly, feeling extremely out of place in his flashy spandex, surrounded by subdued elegance. Being stared at by subdued elegance incarnate. Bruce cleared his throat as the silence stretched and Dick looked at both of them. "Yoru-sensei called to tell me that Tatsu is there. She'll be staying there for a while to rest and...recover a little. Also, I got an email from a 'John Jones'."
"A John--is that our new friend?"
A flash of smile. "One and the same. Jones is a detective in Colorado. Apparently Takata is only one of his guises."
"I wonder how many of the superheroes on our contact list are all the same person," Clark mused.
Dick ran a hand through his hair until it stuck out at odd angles. "I still can't believe you guys met a real live alien." Clark raised his eyebrows, smiling, and Dick flushed. "I mean--you know what I mean, Clark! A green alien, a Martian! That's so cool. Bruce says he has some really impressive powers too."
Clark nodded. "Telepathy, flight, intangibility, shape-shifting...and he packs a mean punch, too," he added ruefully.
"He'll be an impressive addition to the League," Bruce said with satisfaction. "If I didn't know it was horribly rude, I'd love to be able to do a full medical assay on him. And just think of what we could learn from him about Martian technology..." His face was alight with scientific joy; framed by damp hair, it was a nearly irresistible sight. Clark couldn't seem to look away.
Dick was examining Clark's face as Bruce continued to explain possible avenues of scientific exploration; eventually he smiled and then stretched in an elaborate yawn. "Well, I'm pretty beat, so I'm heading off to study for a while and then bed." He wrapped an arm around Superman in a quick hug, then did the same to Bruce. He might have nudged Bruce in the ribs with an elbow under cover of the hug. The door closed behind him and left the two men in the room, along with an awkward silence in his wake.
"Speaking of scientific discoveries," Superman said to distract himself, "Have you reached any conclusions about the composition of the Kryptonian cloth I gave you? Think you can replicate it?"
To his surprise, a hint of a blush appeared in Bruce's face. "Your cape, right. I've studied it extensively--" The hint of red deepened, "--and learned a lot, but I don't think it'll ever be replicable. It seems...unique." Running a hand through his hair, he moved to stand behind the sofa, putting its back between him and Superman.
There was a long pause in which Clark discovered that he couldn't distract himself anymore.
"I couldn't stay away," he said.
Bruce took a deep breath, hands tight on the sofa back. "We have to work together to get the League off the ground, Clark. We can't afford to risk intimate involvement. It complicates things."
Clark took another step closer. "I never kissed you," he repeated as if that answered everything. He moved closer until he was on his knees on the sofa. "And I want to kiss you."
"Neither of us is in a place to be in a serious relationship, especially with each other," Bruce noted quickly, but he didn't look away from the bright eyes, now very close to his. "It's not a good idea."
Clark put his hands on top of Bruce's, very lightly. "You want me to kiss you."
Bruce didn't say anything at all as Clark brought his lips to his.
It was a light, almost hesitant kiss, just a flicker of touch for a long moment. Neither of them could be quite sure later who had deepened it--maybe both of them simultaneously--but soon it was a long and luxurious tangle of tongues and gasped breaths. "You want me, you want me," Clark whispered into Bruce's mouth. "You put the couch between us so I couldn't see how much you were wanting me."
Bruce had gotten his hands free and had them in Clark's hair. "Damn you, you used your x-ray vision."
Clark felt lust leap even higher in him. "I didn't need to," he said, and heard Bruce's stuttering moan as he slipped his hands under the thick maroon cloth, fingers skating over the collarbone. "I never even got to touch you," he said. "That wasn't fair. I'm just...evening the score." He slid his hands lower, brushing Bruce's skin all the way down to the sash, nudging Bruce away from the back of the couch so he could undo it.
"We are not doing this again," Bruce said, as if announcing it in Batman's voice would somehow make it so.
"It's not 'again,'" Clark responded, hands busy on the knot, mouth hot on Bruce's throat, "It's a continuation of the one and only time. That's all. That's--ah." The sash came loose and Clark made a satisfied noise as his hands slipped through damp, curling hair and encountered their goal. A blurringly quick adjustment of position and Clark was on the other side of the sofa with Bruce, turning the other man's back to the couch and going to his knees in front of him, pushing away the folds of the robe.
Once there, he suffered a sudden failure of confidence: he had no idea exactly what he was doing, how to go about this...he glanced up, half-expecting to see laughter on Bruce's face, but the other man was gripping the back of the sofa with white-knuckled hands, his face flushed, eyes closed and lips parted in anticipation.
Clark had no intention of disappointing him.
Trying to still his pounding heart, he took a moment to just trace gentle circles of touch on the skin of Bruce's hips, the taut muscles around his erection. Bruce groaned and shifted his body to try and position Clark's hands more directly. Tentatively, Clark leaned forward to press light kisses on Bruce's hipbones, trailing gradually to the base of his erection, feeling hair tickling at his face, inhaling the scent of Bruce's skin, touched with soap.
More fluttering kisses, up the length of the shaft, savoring the softness of the skin, the heat. At the head he paused and then, feeling greatly daring, drew his tongue across the top, tasting saltiness. Bruce made a sharp noise and the back of the sofa creaked under his grip. "Clark. Clark. Please--so good--please--"
Bruce Wayne. Begging for his touch. Begging for his mouth.
Clark was swamped with lust, hard, he was so hard... Still unsure, but growing too aroused to be careful, he continued to kiss, sloppier and more enthusiastic by the moment. Long brushes of tongue along heated flesh, Bruce's voice making shuddering noises above him, saying something about being so close, about waiting too long, about wanting too much...
He finally slipped his mouth over the head of Bruce's cock, then the rest in a frenzied rush of licking and sucking. The fabric of his costume was soft and slippery against his own erection, stimulating him almost unbearably. His hands were on Bruce's hips as they bucked against him, his fingers splayed across Bruce's ass, feeling the muscles tighten and then tighten more. The musky taste was more arousing than he had expected, and in a haze of desire he felt his hands tighten and knew Bruce would have the imprint of his fingers there in the morning, dark bruises Clark had put there--
Bruce gasped "Yes," as if he had read Clark's mind, and the word and the leap of mad, lustful possessiveness grabbed Clark with no warning and slammed him into orgasm. Lost in rapture, he reveled in the hot silkiness in his mouth, dragging Bruce as close as possible, sucking and lapping and tonguing with abandon. Bruce tensed against him, shivering, and Clark licked and drank and consumed until they were both satisfied.
Bruce leaned against the back of the couch, willing his knees not to shake, as Clark settled with his back against the wall, sitting on the floor, looking up at him. "Thank you," Clark said. "I'm sorry if I wasn't very good."
Bruce found himself speechless at the spectacle of Clark thanking him for the experience. "You were--very good," he finally managed. "That was fantastic."
Clark's face lit as if Bruce had told him he could keep his new puppy instead of complimenting his fellatio technique. "Really? I'm glad."
Bruce felt a sudden pang of terror; how had he managed to end up caring so deeply for the two most innocent and open people he'd ever met? "Clark," he said cautiously, "I understand that you're...exploring your sexuality. You want to experiment and see what it's all like. I understand that. But seriously, we can't afford to be playing the horny teenagers while working together. I mean, it just isn't feasible that we be spending League meetings planning on sneaking off to a closet where I can give you a blowjob." Something leaped behind Clark's eyes and Bruce struggled not to imagine exactly that. "Damn it, Clark. I'm not going to lie and tell you I don't want you. But you've latched onto me because I'm the first person to jump you. You need to...get some wider experience. Explore your options. Find a partner more appropriate for you, someone less..." Gloomy, repressed, sarcastic, discouraging... "Less...me."
For a moment, Clark looked like he was going to argue. Then he lowered his gaze and sighed. "Maybe you're right, Bruce." He laced his hands together and stared down at them. "But I don't know if I can bear to work with you and want you like this," he said in a very small voice.
"It'll get easier," Bruce said.
"I don't want it to get easier."
Bruce knelt down beside Clark and put a hand on his shoulder. Clark sighed and leaned into it. "Get some wider experience. I can't afford to be your first fling, Clark. The League can't afford to have that kind of tension if you...find out you were just curious. Date other people and find out what you really want. Don't settle for me just because I'm the first person who can't keep his hands off you."
Clark's eyes were very close to his, clear and luminous. "And if I find out what I really want is you?"
Bruce swallowed. "Well, we'll cross that bridge...if we come to it." The thought of Clark experimenting with other people made him feel sick and cold, but he knew that once Clark realized he had a lot of options he'd find someone that matched him better, someone warm, affectionate, kind.
He just prayed that whoever Clark found to initiate him into sex was as tender and loving as the man deserved.
Clark sighed again, then pulled Bruce down into a gentle kiss. He stood up and gave Bruce a smile that hovered somewhere between wistful and confident. "If that's what it takes to prove to you--to both us--that I'm not just grabbing the first available person, I'll do my best to date around for a while." He walked to the window, a gust of night breeze swirling his cape around him as he opened it. "But it's going to be difficult when you do those things that are so devastatingly sexy and seductive."
"Like what?" Bruce had no idea he'd been acting seductive; he'd have to be more careful.
Clark turned on the sill, the smile tilting over into outright wicked. "You know. Breathing. Existing."
Bruce looked out the window into the night sky for a long time after he was gone.
: : :
In a cell in Japan, Kyodai Ken was leafing through another newspaper when he stopped at the story of a dojo in Hiroshima burning down, the murder of a family. His eyebrow raised when he read that Superman and Batman had aided in apprehending the perpetrators. It raised higher as he read the interviews with the two Americans who had been staying at the dojo.
He nearly dropped the paper altogether when he saw the picture of the grieving widow, the hilt of the sword she was holding clearly visible.
So. Soultaker had been hiding in a humble dojo all these centuries. Now it was in play again, growing stronger with each soul it took.
A sword like that, fueled with a specific soul of immense power and purity...the wielder would be unstoppable.
Kyodai Ken smiled as he began to make plans. It would take a few months, but he was fairly sure he could bring them to fruition--and quite appropriately in the time of harvest, the time often called "Autumn" in English.
He chuckled as he looked at the photograph.
It seemed especially fitting that Bruce Wayne might also call it "Fall."
Pairing: Clark/Bruce
Disclaimer: The boys belong to DC and to each other, but not to me.
Series Notes: 36 Views of Mt. Fuji is a series set early in Batman and Superman's careers, shortly after the S/B annual #1. The full series can be found here.
Rating: NC-17
Summary: An uninvited visitor at the Manor leads to the inevitable, as well as the inevitable re-negotiations after. Robin starts to put some pieces together, as does a less friendly person.
Word Count: 3400
Even if I now saw you
only once,
I would long for you
through worlds,
worlds.
--Izumi Shikibu
Batman closed a window on the computer--the report filed by Arkham employees to the police every week on patient status--and stifled a sigh, pulling off his cowl and rubbing his eyes.
"Aren't you done yet? You've been working hard all night since you got home, it feels like you should be caught up. You weren't even gone for a week, and it was really quiet." The voice came from behind him, where Robin was absent-mindedly performing handsprings and cartwheels along the edge of one of the cave's drop-offs. Bruce had told him he could practice just as well on a flat, safe surface, but Dick insisted it "dulled his edge."
"One never gets 'caught up' on the war against crime, Robin," Batman said quellingly, but Robin just laughed. A quick, turning leap and he was balanced on the back of Batman's chair; Bruce shifted his weight to compensate and Robin's hands danced in the air for balance.
"Are you worried about Clark?" the boy asked. "Why didn't he come visit?"
"We're both very busy men," Bruce said.
"Clark's never been too busy for his friends before," Robin muttered, and Bruce felt a pang at the sadness in his voice.
"He really wanted to come see you," he said, feeling the boy's smile in his posture and small leap that jarred the chair. "You'll always be his friend. But maybe he just needed some time apart from Batman. It's not like I'm very good company," he added, hating the thread of self-pity in his voice, too tired to keep it out.
A quick flip and Robin was balancing on his hands on the back of the chair. His cape streamed down like sunlight across the chair. "Is it because you're gay?"
Bruce didn't betray his surprise with an effort; the topic of his sexuality had never really come up. The boy was a sharp study. He listened for disgust or repulsion in the echoes of Dick's question and heard only curiosity and concern. Robin spoke again into the silence: "I don't mind, you know. It's not a big deal. I can't believe it would be to Superman, either. No way."
Bruce collected his thoughts. "No, I don't think it's connected to my sexuality. Well, not exactly," he added lamely.
Robin pushed off the chair and landed with a catlike thump next to it. "Hey," he said as if a thought had just occurred to him, "How do we know Clark's not gay? Maybe he's secretly in love with you and is staying away because he's afraid he'll show it!" He did a quick handspring and came up grinning at Bruce. "Man, if you fell in love with him too...that'd be awesome. He could come and have dinner here all the time and we could have incredible adventures together and..." He trailed off at the look on Bruce's face. "Bruce...are you in love with Clark?"
Batman stood up abruptly. "I think we should get some dinner or Alfred will be even more difficult to live with than usual," he said, gathering his cape around him and heading to change.
Robin followed after a thoughtful pause.
: : :
Superman soared above the night sky of Metropolis. It was a quiet night: just a few muggings here and there. A quiet night.
That wasn't good. A quiet night gave him time to think. He didn't want to think.
He lifted up higher until Metropolis was a cascade of lights below him. The air was hot and humid, even this high. It wrapped around his body, coaxing.
Clark sighed. He had spent most of the flight back from Japan trying not to think about Bruce Wayne. Trying not to remember how skillful his hands had been, how confident...and how that confidence and control had crumbled into lust against him.
Bruce had wanted it, that was obvious. Wanted it for just that moment, a wave of desire that had broken and passed? A chance to debauch a virgin--and a virgin Superman at that?
Well, Clark reflected ruefully, if that had been Bruce's motivation, he had failed. Clark felt painfully...undebauched.
He looked down to realize abruptly that he was over Gotham now. When had that happened? Well, since he was there already, he might want to make sure Wayne Manor was still standing. You never knew...
Wayne Manor was still standing, shadowed and quiet on the north outskirts of Gotham. As Superman watched from far above, a light went off in a room on the second floor. He drifted a little closer, resisting the temptation to use his super-hearing to catch the sound of Bruce's voice, the beat of his heart...he didn't have the right, really.
And it might hurt too much.
A gust of wind moved across the woods near the Manor and reached Clark in a rush of pine scent, sweet and sharp. The gardens around the Manor were a riot of summer blossoms; did the butler do all the gardening as well? Clark could smell tea rose and thyme and he wondered which of those many windows Bruce was behind, if he was in the house at all...the darkened window was right in front of him now, and Clark had no real memory of getting that close. He should be going back to Metropolis, not mooning outside the Manor like an insane combination of Romeo and Peter Pan...
The light on the room in front of him snapped on without warning. Dick Grayson stepped into the room and stopped dead at the sight of Superman hovering outside the window.
Clark considered his options, rejected disappearing in a burst of superspeed, and raised a hand in a feeble wave instead.
Dick threw open the window. The smile on his face was welcoming and maybe just a bit smug. "Clark? Why are you outside of our library?"
Clark shrugged nonchalantly. "Checking on you. It's been a while. How are things as Robin?"
"Checking on me," Dick echoed with a grin. "Well," he said, leaping onto the sill, "Being Robin is fantastic!" He spun on the sill. "I think I can really help Bruce a lot--" He wobbled a bit and Superman moved forward in a quick motion of concern; the boy laughed and leaped across the gap between them, grabbing Clark's scarlet cape and hanging from the hem. "You worry about me too much," Dick noted as he dangled and Clark spluttered, caught between annoyance and laughter.
"Dick? Who are you talking--oh." Bruce came to the window to glare at both of them. His hair was damp and he was wearing a burgundy dressing gown of some thick, soft fabric; Clark's hands itched as he stared.
Dick swung from Superman's cape like a Christmas ornament, chuckling. "Just hanging with Superman, Bruce," he said cheerfully, and the older man rolled his eyes, then fixed his glare on Kal once more.
"I was in the area," Superman said lamely.
"You were, were you," stated Bruce. Dick did a quick upward flip and caught hold of the crimson cape again on his way down. Bruce opened the window a little wider. "Well, you'd better come in. I don't want the neighbors wondering why Superman is chatting me up outside my window."
Clark started to note that Wayne Manor had no neighbors for miles, then thought better of it and headed inside, taking a moment to flip the chortling boy into a somersault and into the room.
The library was lined with dark walnut bookcases. A desk cluttered with paper was up against the far wall, and a Queen Anne-style sofa covered in brocade sat in the center of the room. Clark stood awkwardly, feeling extremely out of place in his flashy spandex, surrounded by subdued elegance. Being stared at by subdued elegance incarnate. Bruce cleared his throat as the silence stretched and Dick looked at both of them. "Yoru-sensei called to tell me that Tatsu is there. She'll be staying there for a while to rest and...recover a little. Also, I got an email from a 'John Jones'."
"A John--is that our new friend?"
A flash of smile. "One and the same. Jones is a detective in Colorado. Apparently Takata is only one of his guises."
"I wonder how many of the superheroes on our contact list are all the same person," Clark mused.
Dick ran a hand through his hair until it stuck out at odd angles. "I still can't believe you guys met a real live alien." Clark raised his eyebrows, smiling, and Dick flushed. "I mean--you know what I mean, Clark! A green alien, a Martian! That's so cool. Bruce says he has some really impressive powers too."
Clark nodded. "Telepathy, flight, intangibility, shape-shifting...and he packs a mean punch, too," he added ruefully.
"He'll be an impressive addition to the League," Bruce said with satisfaction. "If I didn't know it was horribly rude, I'd love to be able to do a full medical assay on him. And just think of what we could learn from him about Martian technology..." His face was alight with scientific joy; framed by damp hair, it was a nearly irresistible sight. Clark couldn't seem to look away.
Dick was examining Clark's face as Bruce continued to explain possible avenues of scientific exploration; eventually he smiled and then stretched in an elaborate yawn. "Well, I'm pretty beat, so I'm heading off to study for a while and then bed." He wrapped an arm around Superman in a quick hug, then did the same to Bruce. He might have nudged Bruce in the ribs with an elbow under cover of the hug. The door closed behind him and left the two men in the room, along with an awkward silence in his wake.
"Speaking of scientific discoveries," Superman said to distract himself, "Have you reached any conclusions about the composition of the Kryptonian cloth I gave you? Think you can replicate it?"
To his surprise, a hint of a blush appeared in Bruce's face. "Your cape, right. I've studied it extensively--" The hint of red deepened, "--and learned a lot, but I don't think it'll ever be replicable. It seems...unique." Running a hand through his hair, he moved to stand behind the sofa, putting its back between him and Superman.
There was a long pause in which Clark discovered that he couldn't distract himself anymore.
"I couldn't stay away," he said.
Bruce took a deep breath, hands tight on the sofa back. "We have to work together to get the League off the ground, Clark. We can't afford to risk intimate involvement. It complicates things."
Clark took another step closer. "I never kissed you," he repeated as if that answered everything. He moved closer until he was on his knees on the sofa. "And I want to kiss you."
"Neither of us is in a place to be in a serious relationship, especially with each other," Bruce noted quickly, but he didn't look away from the bright eyes, now very close to his. "It's not a good idea."
Clark put his hands on top of Bruce's, very lightly. "You want me to kiss you."
Bruce didn't say anything at all as Clark brought his lips to his.
It was a light, almost hesitant kiss, just a flicker of touch for a long moment. Neither of them could be quite sure later who had deepened it--maybe both of them simultaneously--but soon it was a long and luxurious tangle of tongues and gasped breaths. "You want me, you want me," Clark whispered into Bruce's mouth. "You put the couch between us so I couldn't see how much you were wanting me."
Bruce had gotten his hands free and had them in Clark's hair. "Damn you, you used your x-ray vision."
Clark felt lust leap even higher in him. "I didn't need to," he said, and heard Bruce's stuttering moan as he slipped his hands under the thick maroon cloth, fingers skating over the collarbone. "I never even got to touch you," he said. "That wasn't fair. I'm just...evening the score." He slid his hands lower, brushing Bruce's skin all the way down to the sash, nudging Bruce away from the back of the couch so he could undo it.
"We are not doing this again," Bruce said, as if announcing it in Batman's voice would somehow make it so.
"It's not 'again,'" Clark responded, hands busy on the knot, mouth hot on Bruce's throat, "It's a continuation of the one and only time. That's all. That's--ah." The sash came loose and Clark made a satisfied noise as his hands slipped through damp, curling hair and encountered their goal. A blurringly quick adjustment of position and Clark was on the other side of the sofa with Bruce, turning the other man's back to the couch and going to his knees in front of him, pushing away the folds of the robe.
Once there, he suffered a sudden failure of confidence: he had no idea exactly what he was doing, how to go about this...he glanced up, half-expecting to see laughter on Bruce's face, but the other man was gripping the back of the sofa with white-knuckled hands, his face flushed, eyes closed and lips parted in anticipation.
Clark had no intention of disappointing him.
Trying to still his pounding heart, he took a moment to just trace gentle circles of touch on the skin of Bruce's hips, the taut muscles around his erection. Bruce groaned and shifted his body to try and position Clark's hands more directly. Tentatively, Clark leaned forward to press light kisses on Bruce's hipbones, trailing gradually to the base of his erection, feeling hair tickling at his face, inhaling the scent of Bruce's skin, touched with soap.
More fluttering kisses, up the length of the shaft, savoring the softness of the skin, the heat. At the head he paused and then, feeling greatly daring, drew his tongue across the top, tasting saltiness. Bruce made a sharp noise and the back of the sofa creaked under his grip. "Clark. Clark. Please--so good--please--"
Bruce Wayne. Begging for his touch. Begging for his mouth.
Clark was swamped with lust, hard, he was so hard... Still unsure, but growing too aroused to be careful, he continued to kiss, sloppier and more enthusiastic by the moment. Long brushes of tongue along heated flesh, Bruce's voice making shuddering noises above him, saying something about being so close, about waiting too long, about wanting too much...
He finally slipped his mouth over the head of Bruce's cock, then the rest in a frenzied rush of licking and sucking. The fabric of his costume was soft and slippery against his own erection, stimulating him almost unbearably. His hands were on Bruce's hips as they bucked against him, his fingers splayed across Bruce's ass, feeling the muscles tighten and then tighten more. The musky taste was more arousing than he had expected, and in a haze of desire he felt his hands tighten and knew Bruce would have the imprint of his fingers there in the morning, dark bruises Clark had put there--
Bruce gasped "Yes," as if he had read Clark's mind, and the word and the leap of mad, lustful possessiveness grabbed Clark with no warning and slammed him into orgasm. Lost in rapture, he reveled in the hot silkiness in his mouth, dragging Bruce as close as possible, sucking and lapping and tonguing with abandon. Bruce tensed against him, shivering, and Clark licked and drank and consumed until they were both satisfied.
Bruce leaned against the back of the couch, willing his knees not to shake, as Clark settled with his back against the wall, sitting on the floor, looking up at him. "Thank you," Clark said. "I'm sorry if I wasn't very good."
Bruce found himself speechless at the spectacle of Clark thanking him for the experience. "You were--very good," he finally managed. "That was fantastic."
Clark's face lit as if Bruce had told him he could keep his new puppy instead of complimenting his fellatio technique. "Really? I'm glad."
Bruce felt a sudden pang of terror; how had he managed to end up caring so deeply for the two most innocent and open people he'd ever met? "Clark," he said cautiously, "I understand that you're...exploring your sexuality. You want to experiment and see what it's all like. I understand that. But seriously, we can't afford to be playing the horny teenagers while working together. I mean, it just isn't feasible that we be spending League meetings planning on sneaking off to a closet where I can give you a blowjob." Something leaped behind Clark's eyes and Bruce struggled not to imagine exactly that. "Damn it, Clark. I'm not going to lie and tell you I don't want you. But you've latched onto me because I'm the first person to jump you. You need to...get some wider experience. Explore your options. Find a partner more appropriate for you, someone less..." Gloomy, repressed, sarcastic, discouraging... "Less...me."
For a moment, Clark looked like he was going to argue. Then he lowered his gaze and sighed. "Maybe you're right, Bruce." He laced his hands together and stared down at them. "But I don't know if I can bear to work with you and want you like this," he said in a very small voice.
"It'll get easier," Bruce said.
"I don't want it to get easier."
Bruce knelt down beside Clark and put a hand on his shoulder. Clark sighed and leaned into it. "Get some wider experience. I can't afford to be your first fling, Clark. The League can't afford to have that kind of tension if you...find out you were just curious. Date other people and find out what you really want. Don't settle for me just because I'm the first person who can't keep his hands off you."
Clark's eyes were very close to his, clear and luminous. "And if I find out what I really want is you?"
Bruce swallowed. "Well, we'll cross that bridge...if we come to it." The thought of Clark experimenting with other people made him feel sick and cold, but he knew that once Clark realized he had a lot of options he'd find someone that matched him better, someone warm, affectionate, kind.
He just prayed that whoever Clark found to initiate him into sex was as tender and loving as the man deserved.
Clark sighed again, then pulled Bruce down into a gentle kiss. He stood up and gave Bruce a smile that hovered somewhere between wistful and confident. "If that's what it takes to prove to you--to both us--that I'm not just grabbing the first available person, I'll do my best to date around for a while." He walked to the window, a gust of night breeze swirling his cape around him as he opened it. "But it's going to be difficult when you do those things that are so devastatingly sexy and seductive."
"Like what?" Bruce had no idea he'd been acting seductive; he'd have to be more careful.
Clark turned on the sill, the smile tilting over into outright wicked. "You know. Breathing. Existing."
Bruce looked out the window into the night sky for a long time after he was gone.
: : :
In a cell in Japan, Kyodai Ken was leafing through another newspaper when he stopped at the story of a dojo in Hiroshima burning down, the murder of a family. His eyebrow raised when he read that Superman and Batman had aided in apprehending the perpetrators. It raised higher as he read the interviews with the two Americans who had been staying at the dojo.
He nearly dropped the paper altogether when he saw the picture of the grieving widow, the hilt of the sword she was holding clearly visible.
So. Soultaker had been hiding in a humble dojo all these centuries. Now it was in play again, growing stronger with each soul it took.
A sword like that, fueled with a specific soul of immense power and purity...the wielder would be unstoppable.
Kyodai Ken smiled as he began to make plans. It would take a few months, but he was fairly sure he could bring them to fruition--and quite appropriately in the time of harvest, the time often called "Autumn" in English.
He chuckled as he looked at the photograph.
It seemed especially fitting that Bruce Wayne might also call it "Fall."