Music of the Spheres 12: Confrontations
Pairing: Clark/Bruce
Disclaimer: The boys belong to DC and to each other, but not to me.
Notes: "Music of the Spheres" is a series set in the combined universes of "Batman Begins" and "Superman Returns." Other stories and notes on the series here.
Rating: R
Summary: Luthor's not done with Clark and Bruce yet, but he doesn't have any idea who he's dealing with--and they finally do. The outcome is never really in doubt. The penultimate chapter of "Music of the Spheres"--only one more to go after this!
Word Count: 3942
Clark and Bruce were lying again on their bed, side by side on their backs, completely exhausted.
They were really quite excessively pleased with themselves.
They hadn't managed to get entirely naked this time. Clark's blue shirt was hiked up under his armpits into a rumpled mess, the red "S" an unreadable tangle, his tights thrown in a pile on the floor. He reached over and stroked a hand lazily down Bruce's body, starting at the ebon armor still encasing the other man's torso and trailing down to the point where hard black leather gave way to soft pale skin at the waist. Their capes were spread across the bed, red and black extravagently crumpled together in waves beneath them.
As Clark's breathing slowed down from pants to sighs, he started to laugh. "You jackass," he gasped. "'Oh, I've got an impossibly hot date this weekend....I've got an enviable love life,'" he said, his voice a mockery of the Dark Knight's.
Bruce smirked. "Was I lying? And hey, you're the one who stood there and let me go on and on about how you needed a civilian identity, you schmuck." Bruce looked curiously at Clark. "So is all that Kansas farm boy stuff a lie, a fake persona?"
"No, no," Clark said hastily. "I really did grow up in Kansas. The rocket my Kryptonian parents sent me off in crashed in a field there, and the Kents found me and took me in, raised me as their son." Clark looked sad. "I wish you could have met my father. He taught me so much about being human." Mentioning his parents brought Clark's mind back to Bruce. "And I take it you weren't actually off wenching and debauching in Europe all those years?"
"I was training. After I almost killed my parents' murderer--" Bruce stopped short, remembered what he had said to Clark about Superman. "I'm sorry, I didn't know you didn't mean to abandon us, I should have known better."
Clark snorted softly. "Why? I screwed that one up."
But Bruce was off on another tangent, putting all the pieces into place. There seemed to be infinite complications. "Clark, that means Jason is--Jason is your son?" His mind struggled to re-define his view of that relationship, but all he could come up with was, "But...I thought you were gay."
Clark laughed. "Not exactly. I think I've finally figured out I'm...brusexual," he declared with relish. He looked over at Bruce with his eyes full of laughter. Bruce stared at the ceiling, running over the last two weeks in his head, realizing now how everything fit together.
"The music..." he said slowly. Clark gave him a sharp glance but said nothing. "At the club in Gotham, and last night. Dancing. That was the music you told me about as Kal, wasn't it?" Clark nodded, his eyes wary. "I...think I heard it, for a second there. I can see what you mean, about wanting to go back to it. It was so..." He sat up suddenly, looking so alarmed that Clark spoke before he could.
"It's okay, Bruce. I can't hear it any more. I won't leave you. I promised."
Startled by the intensity of his relief, Bruce leaned over Clark and thumped his chest jovially. "Just as long as I'm not in some freaky alien lifebond with you or something," he said, grinning.
"Don't worry, Bruce, you're not bound to me," Clark said cheerfully. Bruce frowned, but Clark continued smoothly, "Besides, I think that's illegal in both Gotham and Metropolis, isn't it?"
"What, bondage or matrimony?"
"Is there a difference?"
Bruce snorted and took Clark's face in his hands, staring at it intently. "I still feel like such an idiot for not noticing. I never imagined Superman would want to go around disguised as a mere human. Oh, now that I know you I understand why," he added quickly at Clark's expression. "And...I also understand it's not a disguise per se."
Clark blinked and looked absurdly pleased. "Thank you." He reached up and touched Bruce's lips with a gentle finger. "I should have recognized your mouth. God knows I'd spent enough time admiring Bruce Wayne's mouth."
"I've found if you change the voice enough people can't really get past that." Bruce pitched his voice low and gravelly, filling it with Dark Knight menace. "Not even irresistably gorgeous blue-eyed Kansas alien farmboys."
Clark's eyes almost crossed. "Jesus, Bruce," he said weakly. "Don't do that again without warning me."
Bruce kept his voice low. "Do what? Tell you I can't keep my hands off of you?" He bent his head to kiss Clark's chest, working his way downwards between comments. "That I can't keep my mouth off you? That you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen?" Clark was making some truly amazing noises at this point. "That I'll never get enough of you?" He kissed Clark's hip bone and Clark...squeaked.
Bruce paused there, his shoulders shaking slightly. After a moment Clark said in a very small, pleading voice, "Don't stop?"
Bruce shook his head. "I can't do it when I'm laughing," he gasped. "I can't--" he pounded Clark's hip gently, shaking with hilarity. "You're not supposed to find it sexy, damn it! It's not a sexy voice!"
He pulled himself back up beside Clark, who was definitely pouting now. "It sure as hell is sexy, when I know who's making it."
"Great. You've ruined me. Now whenever I try to terrify some thug with it, all I'll be able to think about is you getting all turned on by it."
Clark growled. "Well, I certainly am." He shot a glance at Bruce. "You know, Kryptonian males require at least one blowjob a day to stay at peak health."
"That's not true."
"How do you know?" Clark's blue eyes were utterly guileless. "In fact, there was an ancient saying on Krypton: 'A blowjob a day keeps the blazrog away.'"
Bruce eyed Clark's face for a very long time. Clark blinked back at him. "No. No fair making up Kryptonian traditions to get extra blowjobs."
Clark sighed wistfully. "Ah, but wouldn't it be nice if it were true..." He grinned impishly as Bruce thumped at his ribs.
Feeling the taut muscles under his hands filled Bruce with a strange mixture of lust and awe. Sex with Kal had been very different than sex with Clark--not because the other man had acted any differently, but because Bruce now realized just how much power was coiled up inside his lover. It was like discovering that the pleasant fire you had been warming your hands at was in reality a molten volcano. Being caught up in Kal's arms had been dizzying, almost terrifying, until the moment Bruce had let go, fallen into trust as if falling into that volcano. Kal's heat and passion had transmuted that terror into a devouring rapture that left Bruce only craving more.
For the moment, however, he was content to lie next to Clark and feel him near and talk. The blessed release of being able to talk freely, openly, about both sides of their lives, trying to piece them together somehow.
"So...how is this going to work? You and me?" he asked. "You'll be in Metropolis and I'll be in Gotham, and...will Bruce and Clark be open lovers?"
Clark frowned. "I'd like to be. The Planet's not as stuffy as you might think, so my job wouldn't be at risk. To be honest, it's dating you that's the problem with most of my co-workers. As long as I'm not going about flirting with every guy in the office--and I won't be, I won't be!" he said as Bruce growled at him, "I should be okay. If we can rehabilitate your image, even better."
"I don't want to make your work any harder, Clark. And--" Bruce frowned, bit his lip. "I assume you're hoping to stay in Jason's life to some extent...will Lois have a problem with that if we're open?"
Clark shook his head emphatically. "Lois is a lot of things, Bruce, but she's not one of those bigots who think being gay makes you a pedophile, and neither's Richard. I've seen them with other gay co-workers. As long as I'm trustworthy I think I can stay part of Jason's life." It was his turn to pause. "Would being with just one person hurt your reputation as a feckless playboy?"
"I'll just find other ways to be feckless," said Bruce, waving his hand. Then he sighed. "Damn, this is complicated. As you might have guessed, Alfred knows all about Batman. It'll probably be unwise to keep your identity a secret from him, not to mention impossible. The man's frankly sharper than I am. And Lucius Fox has a 'don't ask, don't tell' policy about Bruce Wayne's nocturnal adventures. He could well put two and two together and come up with Superman and Clark Kent."
Clark just smiled. "If you can trust them, I can trust them." Then he frowned again. "We still haven't dealt with Luthor. He'll try again, you know. He doesn't give up easily."
Bruce made a dismissive snorting noise. "The man can't even find competent assassins to send against us. I'm not worried about him. Hell, I need him to make some stupid move so I can stop being his business partner." He grinned at Clark. "That'll be a relief."
Clark tugged his shirt down and smoothed out some of the wrinkles, then shifted until his chest was against Bruce's, the slippery blue fabric against the seams of the black armor. His bare legs tangled with Bruce's, skin against skin. He slid his foot down Bruce's thigh, hooked Bruce's instep with his toes playfully. Looking at Bruce's face above the black suit, feeling Bruce's bare hips resting against his, he felt desire move through him again like starlight, like music.
"Luthor'll never know what hit him," said Bruce.
"Just like me," said Clark, bending to kiss him.
: : :
Lex Luthor was strolling on the deck when he spotted them: Bruce Wayne and Clark Kent, sipping some kind of frozen daquiris with flowers and umbrellas in them.
They were decidedly not dead.
Luthor's pace slowed. The helpful men he had hired back on shore to stow away and take care of the pair really should have gotten the job done by now. What was going on? He stopped by their table.
The two of them smiled at him as he approached: Wayne warmly, the reporter more shyly. "Hiya, boys," he hailed them. "Enjoying the cruise?"
Bruce grinned. "I haven't had so much fun in ages, Mr. Luthor. Really."
"No problems sleeping last night? No, uh, disturbances?"
Kent mumbled something about sleeping very well. Bruce laughed and said, "Well, we didn't actually get much sleeping done, did we, hon?" He reached over and punched the reporter playfully on the shoulder. Kent went scarlet and almost spilled his drink, but muttered something that sounded assenting.
Lex found his teeth grinding and carefully unclenched his jaw. He had been pretty sure the relationship was more than friendly, but to have them flirting right in front of him--! He eyed the reporter, trying not to glare. Kent slumped further under his scrutiny, his unkempt hair falling in his eyes and his foot drumming a nervous tattoo on the deck. Bruce was smiling at him, and there was no doubting the playboy was utterly smitten. Lex was mystified. What in the world could Bruce Wayne see in Clark Kent?
Well, there was no accounting for tastes. And their sexual habits were less distressing to him than their unfortunate habit of continuing to draw breath. The two "professionals" he had hired must have taken their advance and cut out on him. As if it would have been much of a challenge to plug these two pansies and toss them overboard. Well, as his dear father had always said, if you want someone killed properly...
"Brucie, m'boy, I actually stopped by to tell you that we've made an amazing discovery on the rig! I just had to come invite you to go out with me and check it out as the ship passes on its way back. I'll have a helicopter come around and take us out in a few hours."
Bruce's eyes lit up. "Really? Wow, that would be fantastic." He paused. "Can Clark come with us?"
"Oh, I wouldn't dream of leaving your pal behind, Bruce." He reached out to ruffle the man's hair, but at that point Kent really did spill his drink, and mopping up puddles of daquiri occupied the two of them completely.
Lex smiled to himself as he walked away. The damn rig hadn't turned up anything and had become a massive waste of money. A heavily insured massive waste of money.
Lex was pretty sure he could kill two--no, three--birds with one stone here.
After he was out of earshot and the drink cleaned up, Clark shot Bruce a look. "Hon?" he said, scandalized, his cheeks still red.
"Hey, you said yourself you wanted to be out. Where better to start than with Lex Luthor?" As Clark rolled his eyes, Bruce went on, "Do you think he's really found...anything important out there?"
Clark mouth quirked. "There's nothing there to find. Within three days of the event, I had gone out there with a great deal of lead shielding and gotten rid of all the stuff I could find."
Bruce's jaw dropped. "You...you...there's been nothing out there to find all this time?"
"Just how stupid do you think I am? I'm not leaving huge chunks of something that can kill me lying around for just anyone to find."
Bruce started to laugh. "I will never underestimate you again."
"Damn skippy, playboy."
: : :
"You know, Mr. Luthor...I'm beginning to get the impression that you might not actually like me."
Luthor snapped the padlock closed on the chains tying Clark and Bruce to a pillar on the rig. "Bruce? Shut up."
Clark felt the cold cement against his back. He couldn't see Bruce, chained to the opposite side of the pillar, but as he stood there he suddenly felt two warm hands snake around the pillar on either side, find his, and squeeze.
The impossible man was enjoying himself.
Clark was forced to wonder if all humans were insane, or merely the ones he tended to hang out around.
Lex circled the pillar once, his team of flunkies shadowing him, coming to a stop facing Bruce, out of Clark's vision. This was usually the point where Lex felt it necessary to give a long, ranting speech, Clark thought with resignation. Indeed, Luthor did not disappoint.
"Truly, Bruce, I'm sorry to have to do this to you, but apparently you stand between me and my ability to finally destroy that alien menace. With you out of the way, I can take over WayneCorp, consolidate my power, and find some way to keep humanity safe...and myself wealthy, of course. I'm afraid, my dear boy, that you and your sweetheart are merely...collateral damage."
His voice drew closer to Bruce. "It's a pity, really. You're a lovely young man." There was a horrific damp silence, followed by a grunt of pain from Lex and the sound of a blow across someone's face.
"The bitch bit me," complained Luthor.
"Don't," said Bruce, low and quick, and Clark shut his eyes and stood very still.
He kept his eyes closed, closed, very closed, until the helicopter's rotors chopped the air and Bruce said, "They're gone now."
Clark took a deep, steadying breath and snapped the chains holding them. Bruce stepped away from the pillar and stared at him. "All right," said Bruce a bit shakily, "It'll take a little while to get used to seeing geeky Clark Kent breaking steel chains like paper." A livid bruise was already rising on one high cheekbone. Bruce smiled slightly at the expression on Clark's face and touched the bruise lightly. "Can you check to make sure there isn't anyone else left on the rig?"
Clark concentrated as Bruce knelt next to the nearest of the four bombs that had been placed around them, examining it carefully. "I don't hear any other heartbeats. We're clear."
He was still dressed in his dinner suit and tie; he was reaching up to loosen the tie when Bruce said, "Slowly."
"What?"
"Go slowly. I want to watch this."
Clark paused, his fingers still around the knot of the tie. "You do realize there are four explosive devices near us, ready to go off and send this rig to the bottom of the sea?"
Bruce's eyes were bright; he didn't look away from Clark as he nodded. "Uh-huh. They're on a ten-minute timer and we've got at least seven minutes left. There's still plenty of time.
Slowly."
Bruce settled against the pillar they had been tied to and crossed his arms. Clark shook his head, stopped untying the tie, and took off his dress shoes and socks, revealing the red slippers beneath. Then he removed the suit coat and folded it neatly, putting it on the ground. He unbuckled his belt and stepped out of his pants, revealing the blue tights; the white shirt still hung low enough to cover the briefs. Bruce gave an appreciative wolf whistle. Clark, deeply torn between dying of embarrassment, wanting to whisk Bruce to safety, and enjoying the attention, slipped the loosened tie off. He stared for a while at the other man, then, as slowly as he could, unbuttoned the shirt, watching an indescribable torrent of emotion wash over Bruce's face as the red insignia came into view. It was like a strip tease that left him more than naked, somehow--left him utterly vulnerable, exposed as his truest self, there in the transition between human and alien.
His hands were shaking again.
He shrugged the shirt off his shoulders, felt the silken cape cascading down his back from its hidden pocket. He slid the glasses down his nose, pausing to cast Bruce a look over the top rim, and tucked them away. Then the final step: Clark threw back his shoulders, straightened his posture, held his head high and took a deep breath, brushing his hair into the proper place with the ease of long practice.
Superman stood in front of Bruce Wayne.
Looking away from what he saw in Bruce's face, Kal said softly, "All right, let's disarm those bombs."
But Bruce shook his head. "Leave them."
"You own part of this rig as well, Bruce. It was a substantial investment."
"It was built to find a way to harm you. It can go to hell for all I care." Bruce walked a few steps closer to Kal, his eyes still fixed on the bright, angular face. "Consider it--" he bit his lip, continued, "--consider it a...wedding gift, of sorts."
A long pause. Then, quicker than thought, Kal had Bruce in his arms for a kiss that could never erase memory, could only etch the moment into the mind forever.
Superman snatched Bruce Wayne from the inferno as the rig exploded around them.
: : :
Lex Luthor leapt from the helicopter, charging through the crowd of socialites on the deck. "My God, someone stop him!" he yelled. "It's Bruce Wayne, he's gone mad! He's rigged the platform with explosives, told us to get the hell out, he was blowing the place up and taking himself and that reporter with it!" People came streaming from around the ship in response to Luthor's frantic speech. "Someone call 911, quick!" Luthor didn't know what exactly Batman meant when he said he had "dirt" on Bruce Wayne, but he was pretty sure it would come to light after the billionaire committed messy double suicide and would explain the behavior satisfactorily.
The rig went up in a very aesthetically pleasing fireball minutes later, causing the crowd to flinch and murmur. Lex sagged dramatically on the railing. "Oh Bruce, Bruce, how could you?" he sobbed. "I would have helped you, somehow, I--"
Luthor gaped in fury as Superman descended from the sky, a slightly singed and smokey but unharmed playboy in his arms. As they landed on the deck, Bruce stepped away from the Kryptonian and pointed an accusing finger at Luthor.
"Lex Luthor, you disgusting, back-stabbing, treacherous snake!" He appealed to the crowd. "He was going to kill me and try and take over WayneCorp in his crazy vendetta against Superman. If it weren't for Superman, here--" The Kryptonian smiled politely, "--I'd be dead and he'd be one step further to completing his twisted schemes. I can't believe I ever listened to a word the man said."
This final perfidy was too much for Luthor. "'Twisted schemes?' 'Twisted schemes'? You didn't think they were so awful when you were helping me figure out how to get our hands on some of that mineral to kill the alien bastard!" The crowd started to mutter and Luthor glared at them wildly. "Are you all insane? He needs to be stopped! He's not a god, why the hell do you all kneel down before him?" The mood had definitely turned on him now, and he rounded on Superman. "What, did you leave that other guy there on the rig to die? He wasn't important enough to save?"
Superman crossed his arms and frowned. "Clark Kent was back on this ship before Bruce Wayne, Luthor. Mr. Wayne insisted on staying behind to make sure no other innocents were at risk from your murderous plans. I believe if you were to check his cabin, you'd almost certainly find Mr. Kent there--probably busy writing up a story for tomorrow's edition of the Planet."
Luthor was almost frothing now. "Just go ahead and kill me, then, and get it over with! I know you want to! I can see it in your eyes!"
Superman's face was inhumanly calm and remote. "Lex Luthor, I have no personal enmity toward you at all. But when you threaten innocents, you must face the consequences. I'm afraid the world is safer with you behind bars." He lifted off, accompanied by applause from the crowd on the deck, which he acknowledged with a wave before disappearing into the clouds.
A few of the larger men among the crowd laid hold of Luthor, who snarled angrily. As he spat curses at humanity in general and Bruce Wayne in particular, Clark Kent suddenly appeared on the deck from below. He strode up to Luthor and aimed a clumsy punch at his face, connecting hard enough to reel the other man back with a trickle of blood on his chin.
"That's for kissing my boyfriend," said Clark Kent, breathing heavily.
Then a look of pained surprise crossed his face and he clutched at his hand. "Ow, ow, owwwww," he moaned, his voice rising to a whine. "Oh, my hand, my hand..." He hopped about the deck wildly and awkwardly, making high-pitched keening sounds and grimacing. A few people in the crowd began to snicker.
Clark held his hand out toward the billionaire, wincing in pain. "Do you think it's broken, Bruce?" he asked piteously.
The playboy took the reporter's hand in his, looking over it to meet Clark's eyes. The women in the crowd close enough to see his face at that moment caught their breath, sighed, and mentally crossed Bruce Wayne off their list of eligible bachelors.
Bruce lifted Clark's hand to his mouth, kissed the knuckles lightly.
"My hero," he said dryly.
Disclaimer: The boys belong to DC and to each other, but not to me.
Notes: "Music of the Spheres" is a series set in the combined universes of "Batman Begins" and "Superman Returns." Other stories and notes on the series here.
Rating: R
Summary: Luthor's not done with Clark and Bruce yet, but he doesn't have any idea who he's dealing with--and they finally do. The outcome is never really in doubt. The penultimate chapter of "Music of the Spheres"--only one more to go after this!
Word Count: 3942
Clark and Bruce were lying again on their bed, side by side on their backs, completely exhausted.
They were really quite excessively pleased with themselves.
They hadn't managed to get entirely naked this time. Clark's blue shirt was hiked up under his armpits into a rumpled mess, the red "S" an unreadable tangle, his tights thrown in a pile on the floor. He reached over and stroked a hand lazily down Bruce's body, starting at the ebon armor still encasing the other man's torso and trailing down to the point where hard black leather gave way to soft pale skin at the waist. Their capes were spread across the bed, red and black extravagently crumpled together in waves beneath them.
As Clark's breathing slowed down from pants to sighs, he started to laugh. "You jackass," he gasped. "'Oh, I've got an impossibly hot date this weekend....I've got an enviable love life,'" he said, his voice a mockery of the Dark Knight's.
Bruce smirked. "Was I lying? And hey, you're the one who stood there and let me go on and on about how you needed a civilian identity, you schmuck." Bruce looked curiously at Clark. "So is all that Kansas farm boy stuff a lie, a fake persona?"
"No, no," Clark said hastily. "I really did grow up in Kansas. The rocket my Kryptonian parents sent me off in crashed in a field there, and the Kents found me and took me in, raised me as their son." Clark looked sad. "I wish you could have met my father. He taught me so much about being human." Mentioning his parents brought Clark's mind back to Bruce. "And I take it you weren't actually off wenching and debauching in Europe all those years?"
"I was training. After I almost killed my parents' murderer--" Bruce stopped short, remembered what he had said to Clark about Superman. "I'm sorry, I didn't know you didn't mean to abandon us, I should have known better."
Clark snorted softly. "Why? I screwed that one up."
But Bruce was off on another tangent, putting all the pieces into place. There seemed to be infinite complications. "Clark, that means Jason is--Jason is your son?" His mind struggled to re-define his view of that relationship, but all he could come up with was, "But...I thought you were gay."
Clark laughed. "Not exactly. I think I've finally figured out I'm...brusexual," he declared with relish. He looked over at Bruce with his eyes full of laughter. Bruce stared at the ceiling, running over the last two weeks in his head, realizing now how everything fit together.
"The music..." he said slowly. Clark gave him a sharp glance but said nothing. "At the club in Gotham, and last night. Dancing. That was the music you told me about as Kal, wasn't it?" Clark nodded, his eyes wary. "I...think I heard it, for a second there. I can see what you mean, about wanting to go back to it. It was so..." He sat up suddenly, looking so alarmed that Clark spoke before he could.
"It's okay, Bruce. I can't hear it any more. I won't leave you. I promised."
Startled by the intensity of his relief, Bruce leaned over Clark and thumped his chest jovially. "Just as long as I'm not in some freaky alien lifebond with you or something," he said, grinning.
"Don't worry, Bruce, you're not bound to me," Clark said cheerfully. Bruce frowned, but Clark continued smoothly, "Besides, I think that's illegal in both Gotham and Metropolis, isn't it?"
"What, bondage or matrimony?"
"Is there a difference?"
Bruce snorted and took Clark's face in his hands, staring at it intently. "I still feel like such an idiot for not noticing. I never imagined Superman would want to go around disguised as a mere human. Oh, now that I know you I understand why," he added quickly at Clark's expression. "And...I also understand it's not a disguise per se."
Clark blinked and looked absurdly pleased. "Thank you." He reached up and touched Bruce's lips with a gentle finger. "I should have recognized your mouth. God knows I'd spent enough time admiring Bruce Wayne's mouth."
"I've found if you change the voice enough people can't really get past that." Bruce pitched his voice low and gravelly, filling it with Dark Knight menace. "Not even irresistably gorgeous blue-eyed Kansas alien farmboys."
Clark's eyes almost crossed. "Jesus, Bruce," he said weakly. "Don't do that again without warning me."
Bruce kept his voice low. "Do what? Tell you I can't keep my hands off of you?" He bent his head to kiss Clark's chest, working his way downwards between comments. "That I can't keep my mouth off you? That you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen?" Clark was making some truly amazing noises at this point. "That I'll never get enough of you?" He kissed Clark's hip bone and Clark...squeaked.
Bruce paused there, his shoulders shaking slightly. After a moment Clark said in a very small, pleading voice, "Don't stop?"
Bruce shook his head. "I can't do it when I'm laughing," he gasped. "I can't--" he pounded Clark's hip gently, shaking with hilarity. "You're not supposed to find it sexy, damn it! It's not a sexy voice!"
He pulled himself back up beside Clark, who was definitely pouting now. "It sure as hell is sexy, when I know who's making it."
"Great. You've ruined me. Now whenever I try to terrify some thug with it, all I'll be able to think about is you getting all turned on by it."
Clark growled. "Well, I certainly am." He shot a glance at Bruce. "You know, Kryptonian males require at least one blowjob a day to stay at peak health."
"That's not true."
"How do you know?" Clark's blue eyes were utterly guileless. "In fact, there was an ancient saying on Krypton: 'A blowjob a day keeps the blazrog away.'"
Bruce eyed Clark's face for a very long time. Clark blinked back at him. "No. No fair making up Kryptonian traditions to get extra blowjobs."
Clark sighed wistfully. "Ah, but wouldn't it be nice if it were true..." He grinned impishly as Bruce thumped at his ribs.
Feeling the taut muscles under his hands filled Bruce with a strange mixture of lust and awe. Sex with Kal had been very different than sex with Clark--not because the other man had acted any differently, but because Bruce now realized just how much power was coiled up inside his lover. It was like discovering that the pleasant fire you had been warming your hands at was in reality a molten volcano. Being caught up in Kal's arms had been dizzying, almost terrifying, until the moment Bruce had let go, fallen into trust as if falling into that volcano. Kal's heat and passion had transmuted that terror into a devouring rapture that left Bruce only craving more.
For the moment, however, he was content to lie next to Clark and feel him near and talk. The blessed release of being able to talk freely, openly, about both sides of their lives, trying to piece them together somehow.
"So...how is this going to work? You and me?" he asked. "You'll be in Metropolis and I'll be in Gotham, and...will Bruce and Clark be open lovers?"
Clark frowned. "I'd like to be. The Planet's not as stuffy as you might think, so my job wouldn't be at risk. To be honest, it's dating you that's the problem with most of my co-workers. As long as I'm not going about flirting with every guy in the office--and I won't be, I won't be!" he said as Bruce growled at him, "I should be okay. If we can rehabilitate your image, even better."
"I don't want to make your work any harder, Clark. And--" Bruce frowned, bit his lip. "I assume you're hoping to stay in Jason's life to some extent...will Lois have a problem with that if we're open?"
Clark shook his head emphatically. "Lois is a lot of things, Bruce, but she's not one of those bigots who think being gay makes you a pedophile, and neither's Richard. I've seen them with other gay co-workers. As long as I'm trustworthy I think I can stay part of Jason's life." It was his turn to pause. "Would being with just one person hurt your reputation as a feckless playboy?"
"I'll just find other ways to be feckless," said Bruce, waving his hand. Then he sighed. "Damn, this is complicated. As you might have guessed, Alfred knows all about Batman. It'll probably be unwise to keep your identity a secret from him, not to mention impossible. The man's frankly sharper than I am. And Lucius Fox has a 'don't ask, don't tell' policy about Bruce Wayne's nocturnal adventures. He could well put two and two together and come up with Superman and Clark Kent."
Clark just smiled. "If you can trust them, I can trust them." Then he frowned again. "We still haven't dealt with Luthor. He'll try again, you know. He doesn't give up easily."
Bruce made a dismissive snorting noise. "The man can't even find competent assassins to send against us. I'm not worried about him. Hell, I need him to make some stupid move so I can stop being his business partner." He grinned at Clark. "That'll be a relief."
Clark tugged his shirt down and smoothed out some of the wrinkles, then shifted until his chest was against Bruce's, the slippery blue fabric against the seams of the black armor. His bare legs tangled with Bruce's, skin against skin. He slid his foot down Bruce's thigh, hooked Bruce's instep with his toes playfully. Looking at Bruce's face above the black suit, feeling Bruce's bare hips resting against his, he felt desire move through him again like starlight, like music.
"Luthor'll never know what hit him," said Bruce.
"Just like me," said Clark, bending to kiss him.
: : :
Lex Luthor was strolling on the deck when he spotted them: Bruce Wayne and Clark Kent, sipping some kind of frozen daquiris with flowers and umbrellas in them.
They were decidedly not dead.
Luthor's pace slowed. The helpful men he had hired back on shore to stow away and take care of the pair really should have gotten the job done by now. What was going on? He stopped by their table.
The two of them smiled at him as he approached: Wayne warmly, the reporter more shyly. "Hiya, boys," he hailed them. "Enjoying the cruise?"
Bruce grinned. "I haven't had so much fun in ages, Mr. Luthor. Really."
"No problems sleeping last night? No, uh, disturbances?"
Kent mumbled something about sleeping very well. Bruce laughed and said, "Well, we didn't actually get much sleeping done, did we, hon?" He reached over and punched the reporter playfully on the shoulder. Kent went scarlet and almost spilled his drink, but muttered something that sounded assenting.
Lex found his teeth grinding and carefully unclenched his jaw. He had been pretty sure the relationship was more than friendly, but to have them flirting right in front of him--! He eyed the reporter, trying not to glare. Kent slumped further under his scrutiny, his unkempt hair falling in his eyes and his foot drumming a nervous tattoo on the deck. Bruce was smiling at him, and there was no doubting the playboy was utterly smitten. Lex was mystified. What in the world could Bruce Wayne see in Clark Kent?
Well, there was no accounting for tastes. And their sexual habits were less distressing to him than their unfortunate habit of continuing to draw breath. The two "professionals" he had hired must have taken their advance and cut out on him. As if it would have been much of a challenge to plug these two pansies and toss them overboard. Well, as his dear father had always said, if you want someone killed properly...
"Brucie, m'boy, I actually stopped by to tell you that we've made an amazing discovery on the rig! I just had to come invite you to go out with me and check it out as the ship passes on its way back. I'll have a helicopter come around and take us out in a few hours."
Bruce's eyes lit up. "Really? Wow, that would be fantastic." He paused. "Can Clark come with us?"
"Oh, I wouldn't dream of leaving your pal behind, Bruce." He reached out to ruffle the man's hair, but at that point Kent really did spill his drink, and mopping up puddles of daquiri occupied the two of them completely.
Lex smiled to himself as he walked away. The damn rig hadn't turned up anything and had become a massive waste of money. A heavily insured massive waste of money.
Lex was pretty sure he could kill two--no, three--birds with one stone here.
After he was out of earshot and the drink cleaned up, Clark shot Bruce a look. "Hon?" he said, scandalized, his cheeks still red.
"Hey, you said yourself you wanted to be out. Where better to start than with Lex Luthor?" As Clark rolled his eyes, Bruce went on, "Do you think he's really found...anything important out there?"
Clark mouth quirked. "There's nothing there to find. Within three days of the event, I had gone out there with a great deal of lead shielding and gotten rid of all the stuff I could find."
Bruce's jaw dropped. "You...you...there's been nothing out there to find all this time?"
"Just how stupid do you think I am? I'm not leaving huge chunks of something that can kill me lying around for just anyone to find."
Bruce started to laugh. "I will never underestimate you again."
"Damn skippy, playboy."
: : :
"You know, Mr. Luthor...I'm beginning to get the impression that you might not actually like me."
Luthor snapped the padlock closed on the chains tying Clark and Bruce to a pillar on the rig. "Bruce? Shut up."
Clark felt the cold cement against his back. He couldn't see Bruce, chained to the opposite side of the pillar, but as he stood there he suddenly felt two warm hands snake around the pillar on either side, find his, and squeeze.
The impossible man was enjoying himself.
Clark was forced to wonder if all humans were insane, or merely the ones he tended to hang out around.
Lex circled the pillar once, his team of flunkies shadowing him, coming to a stop facing Bruce, out of Clark's vision. This was usually the point where Lex felt it necessary to give a long, ranting speech, Clark thought with resignation. Indeed, Luthor did not disappoint.
"Truly, Bruce, I'm sorry to have to do this to you, but apparently you stand between me and my ability to finally destroy that alien menace. With you out of the way, I can take over WayneCorp, consolidate my power, and find some way to keep humanity safe...and myself wealthy, of course. I'm afraid, my dear boy, that you and your sweetheart are merely...collateral damage."
His voice drew closer to Bruce. "It's a pity, really. You're a lovely young man." There was a horrific damp silence, followed by a grunt of pain from Lex and the sound of a blow across someone's face.
"The bitch bit me," complained Luthor.
"Don't," said Bruce, low and quick, and Clark shut his eyes and stood very still.
He kept his eyes closed, closed, very closed, until the helicopter's rotors chopped the air and Bruce said, "They're gone now."
Clark took a deep, steadying breath and snapped the chains holding them. Bruce stepped away from the pillar and stared at him. "All right," said Bruce a bit shakily, "It'll take a little while to get used to seeing geeky Clark Kent breaking steel chains like paper." A livid bruise was already rising on one high cheekbone. Bruce smiled slightly at the expression on Clark's face and touched the bruise lightly. "Can you check to make sure there isn't anyone else left on the rig?"
Clark concentrated as Bruce knelt next to the nearest of the four bombs that had been placed around them, examining it carefully. "I don't hear any other heartbeats. We're clear."
He was still dressed in his dinner suit and tie; he was reaching up to loosen the tie when Bruce said, "Slowly."
"What?"
"Go slowly. I want to watch this."
Clark paused, his fingers still around the knot of the tie. "You do realize there are four explosive devices near us, ready to go off and send this rig to the bottom of the sea?"
Bruce's eyes were bright; he didn't look away from Clark as he nodded. "Uh-huh. They're on a ten-minute timer and we've got at least seven minutes left. There's still plenty of time.
Slowly."
Bruce settled against the pillar they had been tied to and crossed his arms. Clark shook his head, stopped untying the tie, and took off his dress shoes and socks, revealing the red slippers beneath. Then he removed the suit coat and folded it neatly, putting it on the ground. He unbuckled his belt and stepped out of his pants, revealing the blue tights; the white shirt still hung low enough to cover the briefs. Bruce gave an appreciative wolf whistle. Clark, deeply torn between dying of embarrassment, wanting to whisk Bruce to safety, and enjoying the attention, slipped the loosened tie off. He stared for a while at the other man, then, as slowly as he could, unbuttoned the shirt, watching an indescribable torrent of emotion wash over Bruce's face as the red insignia came into view. It was like a strip tease that left him more than naked, somehow--left him utterly vulnerable, exposed as his truest self, there in the transition between human and alien.
His hands were shaking again.
He shrugged the shirt off his shoulders, felt the silken cape cascading down his back from its hidden pocket. He slid the glasses down his nose, pausing to cast Bruce a look over the top rim, and tucked them away. Then the final step: Clark threw back his shoulders, straightened his posture, held his head high and took a deep breath, brushing his hair into the proper place with the ease of long practice.
Superman stood in front of Bruce Wayne.
Looking away from what he saw in Bruce's face, Kal said softly, "All right, let's disarm those bombs."
But Bruce shook his head. "Leave them."
"You own part of this rig as well, Bruce. It was a substantial investment."
"It was built to find a way to harm you. It can go to hell for all I care." Bruce walked a few steps closer to Kal, his eyes still fixed on the bright, angular face. "Consider it--" he bit his lip, continued, "--consider it a...wedding gift, of sorts."
A long pause. Then, quicker than thought, Kal had Bruce in his arms for a kiss that could never erase memory, could only etch the moment into the mind forever.
Superman snatched Bruce Wayne from the inferno as the rig exploded around them.
: : :
Lex Luthor leapt from the helicopter, charging through the crowd of socialites on the deck. "My God, someone stop him!" he yelled. "It's Bruce Wayne, he's gone mad! He's rigged the platform with explosives, told us to get the hell out, he was blowing the place up and taking himself and that reporter with it!" People came streaming from around the ship in response to Luthor's frantic speech. "Someone call 911, quick!" Luthor didn't know what exactly Batman meant when he said he had "dirt" on Bruce Wayne, but he was pretty sure it would come to light after the billionaire committed messy double suicide and would explain the behavior satisfactorily.
The rig went up in a very aesthetically pleasing fireball minutes later, causing the crowd to flinch and murmur. Lex sagged dramatically on the railing. "Oh Bruce, Bruce, how could you?" he sobbed. "I would have helped you, somehow, I--"
Luthor gaped in fury as Superman descended from the sky, a slightly singed and smokey but unharmed playboy in his arms. As they landed on the deck, Bruce stepped away from the Kryptonian and pointed an accusing finger at Luthor.
"Lex Luthor, you disgusting, back-stabbing, treacherous snake!" He appealed to the crowd. "He was going to kill me and try and take over WayneCorp in his crazy vendetta against Superman. If it weren't for Superman, here--" The Kryptonian smiled politely, "--I'd be dead and he'd be one step further to completing his twisted schemes. I can't believe I ever listened to a word the man said."
This final perfidy was too much for Luthor. "'Twisted schemes?' 'Twisted schemes'? You didn't think they were so awful when you were helping me figure out how to get our hands on some of that mineral to kill the alien bastard!" The crowd started to mutter and Luthor glared at them wildly. "Are you all insane? He needs to be stopped! He's not a god, why the hell do you all kneel down before him?" The mood had definitely turned on him now, and he rounded on Superman. "What, did you leave that other guy there on the rig to die? He wasn't important enough to save?"
Superman crossed his arms and frowned. "Clark Kent was back on this ship before Bruce Wayne, Luthor. Mr. Wayne insisted on staying behind to make sure no other innocents were at risk from your murderous plans. I believe if you were to check his cabin, you'd almost certainly find Mr. Kent there--probably busy writing up a story for tomorrow's edition of the Planet."
Luthor was almost frothing now. "Just go ahead and kill me, then, and get it over with! I know you want to! I can see it in your eyes!"
Superman's face was inhumanly calm and remote. "Lex Luthor, I have no personal enmity toward you at all. But when you threaten innocents, you must face the consequences. I'm afraid the world is safer with you behind bars." He lifted off, accompanied by applause from the crowd on the deck, which he acknowledged with a wave before disappearing into the clouds.
A few of the larger men among the crowd laid hold of Luthor, who snarled angrily. As he spat curses at humanity in general and Bruce Wayne in particular, Clark Kent suddenly appeared on the deck from below. He strode up to Luthor and aimed a clumsy punch at his face, connecting hard enough to reel the other man back with a trickle of blood on his chin.
"That's for kissing my boyfriend," said Clark Kent, breathing heavily.
Then a look of pained surprise crossed his face and he clutched at his hand. "Ow, ow, owwwww," he moaned, his voice rising to a whine. "Oh, my hand, my hand..." He hopped about the deck wildly and awkwardly, making high-pitched keening sounds and grimacing. A few people in the crowd began to snicker.
Clark held his hand out toward the billionaire, wincing in pain. "Do you think it's broken, Bruce?" he asked piteously.
The playboy took the reporter's hand in his, looking over it to meet Clark's eyes. The women in the crowd close enough to see his face at that moment caught their breath, sighed, and mentally crossed Bruce Wayne off their list of eligible bachelors.
Bruce lifted Clark's hand to his mouth, kissed the knuckles lightly.
"My hero," he said dryly.