Let the Mystery Be
Feb. 14th, 2011 08:18 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
trista_zevkiaTitle: Let the Mystery Be
Chapter: 1/2
Fandom: Comicverse
Characters/Pairing: Clark/Bruce
Rating: PG-17
Summary: Detectives have a hard time leaving a mystery alone, so don't give them one without expecting it to get solved.
Disclaimer: All monies made will be sent to the Wayne Enterprise approved Charities
Author's Notes: Previously posted on World's finest. I don’t know what dark corner of my psyche this one crawled out of, you have been warned.
Let the Mystery Be
Bruce Wayne, last scion of the House of Wayne, entered his magnificent bedroom and was disappointed. There was no naked, horny, nigh invulnerable alien in his bed. It had been a quiet night in Gotham so he had returned earlier than expected. The drive home had planted the idea that maybe it was a quiet night all over the world. By the time he finished changing and showering, that idea had bloomed into a hope. A practical man, Bruce amended his hope as he settled into his empty bed. Instead of a night of love in a large bed, a dawn attack would have to suffice. About six months after they had started having sex, Clark had admitted how the first flush of light aroused every cell. Since then, they had found dawn was the best way for them to come together when time was short.
Bruce only realized he had fallen asleep thinking about Clark when he was awakened by a dawn attack. But as he blinked the sleep from his eyes he figured out something was wrong. It was still dark, his body had not been teased into arousal, and the hands that flipped him onto his stomach were rough. Bruce leveraged himself up to look at Clark scrambling out of his uniform. He was aroused but angry, almost glowing in the darkness. Finally naked, he saw Bruce looking at him and growled.
Bruce moved to sit up and calm Kal down and found himself shoved facedown into the mattress. His arms were bent at the elbow and folded together on his back so both could be held by one of Kal’s hands. The other hand started working his butthole, not to prepare him but because Kal wanted to finger fuck him. Teeth at his neck drew blood for Kal to suck upon; doubtless leaving a grapefruit sized hickey. Two fingers pulled him open and stayed inside him as Kal shoved in.
Kal growled his pleasure before starting to speak in what Bruce believed was Kryptonian. He could at least recognize most Earth languages and could interrogate in several. This language of strange sounds would have been beautiful spoken in Clark’s loving voice. The Kal that topped him now was completely alien, seemingly unconcerned with who he was fucking. Kal had come to him like this twice before and each time it got more violent. Finally sated, Kal had fallen away so it was Clark who hit the bed. Begging forgiveness, gently stroking Bruce, he would gradually explain what awful thing had sent him off but never what words he said. Bruce would do a little fucking of his own and all would be forgiven. Bruce would never admit, not even to himself, that sometimes he liked having his control ripped away. Occasionally. But if it had been anyone other than Clark, he would have extracted a terrible revenge.
Bruce lived in his mind and knew his mind was not important in this exchange. As such he could think about these things while Kal was totally lost in his baser instincts, but the fluid dribbling down his taint brought him back into his body. Kal was still pounding into him, and the level of pain suggested the fluid was his blood. This thought was enough to kill what little desire his body had managed to conjure up. Clark would never hurt him, but apparently Kal would. Bruce tried to struggle, talked to get Clark’s attention, only to have the hand half in his butt removed and wrapped around his mouth instead. Bruce could smell himself but also gunpowder and smoke.
There was a shudder and Kal was coming and coming. Bruce felt stuffed with liquid but having Kal still inside him kept the semen from exiting. More Kryptonian words growled in his ear before Kal pulled out and uncovered Bruce’s mouth. Bruce felt another hickey being super suctioned onto his skin, this one on his butt. A lick over the burning skin and he was released completely. He flipped around, arms too numb to help and watch Kal dress. He didn’t even wipe off his fluid or Bruce’s blood. Dressed, Kal went to the balcony and left without a word, not noticing it was a pissed Batman who watched him fly away.
Bruce had a multitude of issues, including control, abandonment and an obsessive need to know. Batman had a list of things he was willing to put up with to keep Bruce happy: this was not one of them. Neither aspect of his personality accepted a Clark so out of character. Making his way to the shower, Bruce stood under the water until life returned to his arms and blood stopped flowing. Throwing on sweats, he went down to the gym and flipped on the radio as he started stretching. He was almost ready to start working out when he heard the news bulletin he was looking for.
A late night apartment fire had ended in three deaths despite Superman’s assistance. He had been helping to suppress the fire when one of the residents, a schizophrenic presumed off his medicine, had started shooting at firefighters. Bullets ripped through material designed to keep heat out and the two firefighters had died before Superman could get to them. While he disarmed the shooter, carried him to safety and retrieved the bodies, a young girl had died. Hidden in a closet and too scared to scream, her parents had arrived from the corner bar, screaming for her. When all Superman had been able to retrieve had been unrecognizable, he had been the focus of their pain and rage.
A bad day, one that Batman could defiantly appreciate and sympathize with. But Kal could not be allowed to take control just to lose it. Superman needed to sympathize and care with the humanity he was trying to protect. Needed the human element of Clark or the world would be in serious trouble. Batman was prepared to take down the alien, despite the emotions involved. He would do it if he had too, even if it made the world turn against him or killed him. He could admit to himself, it probably would kill him, crush Bruce’s soul and Batman’s humanity if he was the instrument of Superman’s destruction. Still, he was a thinker and a planner. Simply preventing that situation was a much better plan than having to figure out how to react to it. A little planning as he worked his body and if Bruce tried to inject sentimentality into calculations, simply clenching his butt muscles reminded him of the urgency of the situation.
sBSbBs
A simple plan and patience was all that was required. A month and a half later and Batman was requested at the fortress. He was trusted and had full access to the computers. When Clark muttered something about Japan and sped out, Bruce downloaded the Kryptonian language database. Alfred bought him an iPod and Bruce spent every idle moment listening to it. He tuned engines while practicing consonant combos. Workouts delved into grammatical structure and limo rides built up sentences. The challenging vocabulary kept him from sleeping during W.E. meetings. Just about the time Bruce felt like he had a solid grasp on the language, he was given a chance to find out.
Kal-el came to him, ethereal and demanding. This time he smelled of human blood, and stains on his uniform absorbed the early morning light. He couldn’t even be bothered to fully take off that uniform as he took what he needed from Bruce. Positioning Bruce with knees bent and butt in the air, one strong hand held two hands pointed at Bruce’s head. Bruce had to turn his head from where it was shoved into the mattress so he could breathe, but he could still hear. Clark apparently had a human accent that made his words slightly different than the stolen recordings. Bruce adjusted and worked to understand words broken with thrusts and grunts.
“If I hold too tight, I crush them, Beloved. But if I let go they slip away and die. I die when they die, but I live on and morn. But you Beloved, I refuse to morn. You’re not allowed to die, it would drive me mad. I hate this world for what it does, for what it did to you. I might destroy it if it dares to kill you. That makes you the most important person in the history of this world but I can’t let you know that. Stress of that would kill you quicker. I have to protect you, lock you away and preserve you forever. I want to control you, own you, but you own me, Beloved of the house of El who is not allowed to die. Beautiful, demanding, controlling…”
Clark’s impending orgasm seemed to be reducing him to a string of descriptive words aimed at Bruce. Not all of them matched up with words Bruce knew but the resulting knot in his stomach didn’t need all the details. Even as Kal came, Bruce was trying to identify the unfamiliar emotion tied up in that knot. Kal fell heavily on top of him, squishing Bruce to the bed with his hands still twisted up and pinned. After the shuddering was over and breath returned to normal, a thick voice growled into his ear.
“Sometimes, Beloved, it takes all my will power not to mark you as my own. I grow tired of all those peons looking upon what I own.”
Then the weight lifted and Bruce flopped around to see Kal adjusting his uniform pants as he flew into the sun. Bruce pulled his arms to his front and waited for the blood to resume flowing. He had tried in his years of training to prepare for every eventuality, but nothing had even touched on this. He wasn’t equipped to handle a possessive alien lover placing the fate of the world in his hands. Understanding this made it possible to recognize the feeling in his gut as panic. Batman did not panic, but apparently Kal’s sex slave could. When the blood returned to his arms, he cleaned up and headed for the gym. Attempting to sleep now would be pointless.
sBSbBs
An assault of sunlight brought Bruce out of his dreams but it took him a moment to figure out where he was. Alfred was standing over him, so that was a considerable help in calming and orienteering. He noticed a book on his chest and remembered he was in the library. How many times since Kal had come to him had he woken here? Clark had even found him here a couple of times, but his curiosity was abated by sex. He’d been trying to do a little reading after patrols; hoping human psychology would give him an insight into what to do about Kal. It wasn’t going all that well actually. He sighed and sat up, as Alfred handed him a cup of coffee.
“Master Bruce, if there is something amiss with your bed; a few words in my ear will remedy the situation.” Alfred’s code for ‘what’s up with you.’
“I’m just trying to figure someone out.” Alfred had a great understanding of people, but this was such a strange situation Bruce hadn’t thought he’d be able to help. If he had believed Alfred could have helped, he would have asked him the morning after he learned what Kal was saying.
“Naturally Sir. I had noticed your increased appreciation of psychology.” He waited a moment to see if Bruce would do more than sip his coffee. “I am afraid you will not find a solution to your Joker problem in these texts.”
Bruce sighed; clearly Alfred was reluctant to let this go. Maybe his fresh eyes could provide some insight after all. “It’s not the Joker, it’s Clark. I found out something that he doesn’t want me to know. And what I know is, well, scary.”
Alfred settled into a chair and regarded Bruce a minute before speaking. “Master Bruce, I am afraid this is one of those situations where the answer would be obvious to everybody, except you.”
Alfred held up a calming hand to Bruce’s glare. “Admit it Master Bruce, personal relationships have never been your forte. Now, take a moment to consider these psychology texts you have been devouring lately. What do they all say to do before beginning to diagnose a patient?”
“Well, while you’re talking to the patient there is a series of questions that can lead you to a diagnosis.” Bruce replied, unsure of exactly where Alfred was going with this.
“Yes, first you must talk to the patient. Or, in your case, you must talk about this with Master Kent.” Alfred’s firm gaze and wise words made Bruce squirm a little. “But of course, you found out by using subterfuge, and do not want tell him you know. Fortunately, Master Clark is a very forgiving individual. Tell him of your transgression and let him met out the appropriate punishment.”
“Alfred, you don’t understand, mainly because I can’t tell you.” Bruce placed his empty cup on the tray. “He can’t put his feelings for me above the good of the whole planet.”
“I doubt he will, when the appropriate time comes. Master Kent is very aware of his responsibilities and takes them to heart. If he said otherwise, it might have been his way of venting emotional stress.”
Bruce sagged against the back of the couch in relief. “Of course, Alfred! It was just stress talking, Clark would never do that. Thank God! And thank you, Alfred. Next time Clark does something weird, I’m coming straight to you.”
“Sir, while I really hope you are correct, you still need to discuss this with Master Kent.” Alfred was right, but Bruce was too relieved to care right now. If it came up, he would deal with it. Bruce nodded at Alfred and headed upstairs to prepare for his day, happy the mystery was solved.
sBSbBs
Two months slid by without a visit from Kal-el, proving it was just Clark venting an enormous amount of stress. Bruce thought that frequent sex would keep Clark from reaching that point and had enjoyed making sure they got together as often as possible. He sincerely believed it would have worked, if only he hadn’t been so damn fallible. A fight on a roof, a hostage shoved over. Jumping after him had been his only choice, and his grappling hook missed. He tucked and rolled so he took the brunt of the impact of a four story fall. Alfred reset his dislocated shoulder and wrapped his ribs, but it meant a week or two on the sidelines. He told Clark there were still things they could do, but Clark felt it was the perfect opportunity to practice cuddling. A skill Bruce lacked, according to Clark, but practicing it made Clark happy.
When he was recovered enough to convince Clark to have sex with him, they took a Monday night off to enjoy it. They had fallen asleep in each other’s arms, but Clark had accidently awakened Bruce as he left for some emergency. Grumbling, Bruce had forced himself to fall back to sleep. When a strong, naked body entwined with his, he accepted it and tried for more sleep. The cold woke him and he blinked at his surroundings. The stars were way too close and the ground way too far. A look at his lover’s face and Bruce knew it was Kal who held him. That alien leered at him before leaning back so Bruce was lying on top of him. Kal’s erection was now trapped between them, so he grabbed Bruce’s shoulders and started pushing his whole body up and down. Bruce did not appreciate this, so he scrambled to find a hold on Kal. Grabbing Kal’s wrists he wrapped his legs around Kal’s waist and locked his ankles. Now it was Kal’s turn to dislike the situation.
“How dare you fight me, Beloved! You know you want this; you just can’t let yourself admit it! You think you want control, but in my arms you relinquish control. Understand that or you will get hurt.” Bruce was shocked at how threatening Kal sounded. Kal started to roll over in the air and the panic was back in Bruce’s stomach. “I will get what I need from you, whether you want to give it or not!”
With their positions reversed, gravity pulled Bruce away from Kal, just enough that he could go back to getting friction from a reluctant Bruce. Bruce considered pulling himself tighter to Kal, but thought the alien could probably outlast him in the cold atmosphere. So he took a deep breath, and kicked away. He plummeted toward the ground, aware of the shocked look on Kal’s face. Bruce wondered idly, if he was going to destroy the world if it killed me, what will he do to himself if he lets me die? Then Kal moved, gathering Bruce in his arms and returning to the bed. His ankles were over Kal’s shoulders and Kal was pounding into him as he talked.
“Crazy Beloved! Reckless! Defying me at every turn. Letting yourself get injured when you know how much I need you! Tell me, and I will take you away from all this. You will live forever, giving me a reason to keep fighting. Show the slightest fear and I will take you away, lock you away for your safety. I hate the fear I see in others around me, but you never feared me. What does fear taste like on your skin? Lock you away, so you will never risk your precious life for someone too stupid to drop to the floor when armed men show up. Your life is supposed to be mine, Beloved! Never forget that. Mine!”
A final thrust and Kal was filling Bruce with liquid. When Kal relaxed, Bruce scrambled away from him. So much for putting off that conversation, Bruce thought. He did decide to ease into it, talk to Clark instead of Kal and keep it in English. “Clark, we really need to talk. These little episodes of yours are getting out of hand.”
Kal growled back. “You dare speak to me in that crude language! You are probably as undeserving of my love as the rest of them, but my heart demands only you.”
Overlapping thoughts raced through Bruce’s head, so he shut them all out and tried again. When he started to speak, he hadn’t made up his mind which language to use; he just knew he needed to reach Clark. “Clark?”
But Kal’s attention was focused outside the window and he grunted with disgust. Then he moved, dressed and flew off. Bruce stared out into the sky until the dawn light disrupted his thoughts.
Chapter 2
Chapter: 1/2
Fandom: Comicverse
Characters/Pairing: Clark/Bruce
Rating: PG-17
Summary: Detectives have a hard time leaving a mystery alone, so don't give them one without expecting it to get solved.
Disclaimer: All monies made will be sent to the Wayne Enterprise approved Charities
Author's Notes: Previously posted on World's finest. I don’t know what dark corner of my psyche this one crawled out of, you have been warned.
Let the Mystery Be
Bruce Wayne, last scion of the House of Wayne, entered his magnificent bedroom and was disappointed. There was no naked, horny, nigh invulnerable alien in his bed. It had been a quiet night in Gotham so he had returned earlier than expected. The drive home had planted the idea that maybe it was a quiet night all over the world. By the time he finished changing and showering, that idea had bloomed into a hope. A practical man, Bruce amended his hope as he settled into his empty bed. Instead of a night of love in a large bed, a dawn attack would have to suffice. About six months after they had started having sex, Clark had admitted how the first flush of light aroused every cell. Since then, they had found dawn was the best way for them to come together when time was short.
Bruce only realized he had fallen asleep thinking about Clark when he was awakened by a dawn attack. But as he blinked the sleep from his eyes he figured out something was wrong. It was still dark, his body had not been teased into arousal, and the hands that flipped him onto his stomach were rough. Bruce leveraged himself up to look at Clark scrambling out of his uniform. He was aroused but angry, almost glowing in the darkness. Finally naked, he saw Bruce looking at him and growled.
Bruce moved to sit up and calm Kal down and found himself shoved facedown into the mattress. His arms were bent at the elbow and folded together on his back so both could be held by one of Kal’s hands. The other hand started working his butthole, not to prepare him but because Kal wanted to finger fuck him. Teeth at his neck drew blood for Kal to suck upon; doubtless leaving a grapefruit sized hickey. Two fingers pulled him open and stayed inside him as Kal shoved in.
Kal growled his pleasure before starting to speak in what Bruce believed was Kryptonian. He could at least recognize most Earth languages and could interrogate in several. This language of strange sounds would have been beautiful spoken in Clark’s loving voice. The Kal that topped him now was completely alien, seemingly unconcerned with who he was fucking. Kal had come to him like this twice before and each time it got more violent. Finally sated, Kal had fallen away so it was Clark who hit the bed. Begging forgiveness, gently stroking Bruce, he would gradually explain what awful thing had sent him off but never what words he said. Bruce would do a little fucking of his own and all would be forgiven. Bruce would never admit, not even to himself, that sometimes he liked having his control ripped away. Occasionally. But if it had been anyone other than Clark, he would have extracted a terrible revenge.
Bruce lived in his mind and knew his mind was not important in this exchange. As such he could think about these things while Kal was totally lost in his baser instincts, but the fluid dribbling down his taint brought him back into his body. Kal was still pounding into him, and the level of pain suggested the fluid was his blood. This thought was enough to kill what little desire his body had managed to conjure up. Clark would never hurt him, but apparently Kal would. Bruce tried to struggle, talked to get Clark’s attention, only to have the hand half in his butt removed and wrapped around his mouth instead. Bruce could smell himself but also gunpowder and smoke.
There was a shudder and Kal was coming and coming. Bruce felt stuffed with liquid but having Kal still inside him kept the semen from exiting. More Kryptonian words growled in his ear before Kal pulled out and uncovered Bruce’s mouth. Bruce felt another hickey being super suctioned onto his skin, this one on his butt. A lick over the burning skin and he was released completely. He flipped around, arms too numb to help and watch Kal dress. He didn’t even wipe off his fluid or Bruce’s blood. Dressed, Kal went to the balcony and left without a word, not noticing it was a pissed Batman who watched him fly away.
Bruce had a multitude of issues, including control, abandonment and an obsessive need to know. Batman had a list of things he was willing to put up with to keep Bruce happy: this was not one of them. Neither aspect of his personality accepted a Clark so out of character. Making his way to the shower, Bruce stood under the water until life returned to his arms and blood stopped flowing. Throwing on sweats, he went down to the gym and flipped on the radio as he started stretching. He was almost ready to start working out when he heard the news bulletin he was looking for.
A late night apartment fire had ended in three deaths despite Superman’s assistance. He had been helping to suppress the fire when one of the residents, a schizophrenic presumed off his medicine, had started shooting at firefighters. Bullets ripped through material designed to keep heat out and the two firefighters had died before Superman could get to them. While he disarmed the shooter, carried him to safety and retrieved the bodies, a young girl had died. Hidden in a closet and too scared to scream, her parents had arrived from the corner bar, screaming for her. When all Superman had been able to retrieve had been unrecognizable, he had been the focus of their pain and rage.
A bad day, one that Batman could defiantly appreciate and sympathize with. But Kal could not be allowed to take control just to lose it. Superman needed to sympathize and care with the humanity he was trying to protect. Needed the human element of Clark or the world would be in serious trouble. Batman was prepared to take down the alien, despite the emotions involved. He would do it if he had too, even if it made the world turn against him or killed him. He could admit to himself, it probably would kill him, crush Bruce’s soul and Batman’s humanity if he was the instrument of Superman’s destruction. Still, he was a thinker and a planner. Simply preventing that situation was a much better plan than having to figure out how to react to it. A little planning as he worked his body and if Bruce tried to inject sentimentality into calculations, simply clenching his butt muscles reminded him of the urgency of the situation.
sBSbBs
A simple plan and patience was all that was required. A month and a half later and Batman was requested at the fortress. He was trusted and had full access to the computers. When Clark muttered something about Japan and sped out, Bruce downloaded the Kryptonian language database. Alfred bought him an iPod and Bruce spent every idle moment listening to it. He tuned engines while practicing consonant combos. Workouts delved into grammatical structure and limo rides built up sentences. The challenging vocabulary kept him from sleeping during W.E. meetings. Just about the time Bruce felt like he had a solid grasp on the language, he was given a chance to find out.
Kal-el came to him, ethereal and demanding. This time he smelled of human blood, and stains on his uniform absorbed the early morning light. He couldn’t even be bothered to fully take off that uniform as he took what he needed from Bruce. Positioning Bruce with knees bent and butt in the air, one strong hand held two hands pointed at Bruce’s head. Bruce had to turn his head from where it was shoved into the mattress so he could breathe, but he could still hear. Clark apparently had a human accent that made his words slightly different than the stolen recordings. Bruce adjusted and worked to understand words broken with thrusts and grunts.
“If I hold too tight, I crush them, Beloved. But if I let go they slip away and die. I die when they die, but I live on and morn. But you Beloved, I refuse to morn. You’re not allowed to die, it would drive me mad. I hate this world for what it does, for what it did to you. I might destroy it if it dares to kill you. That makes you the most important person in the history of this world but I can’t let you know that. Stress of that would kill you quicker. I have to protect you, lock you away and preserve you forever. I want to control you, own you, but you own me, Beloved of the house of El who is not allowed to die. Beautiful, demanding, controlling…”
Clark’s impending orgasm seemed to be reducing him to a string of descriptive words aimed at Bruce. Not all of them matched up with words Bruce knew but the resulting knot in his stomach didn’t need all the details. Even as Kal came, Bruce was trying to identify the unfamiliar emotion tied up in that knot. Kal fell heavily on top of him, squishing Bruce to the bed with his hands still twisted up and pinned. After the shuddering was over and breath returned to normal, a thick voice growled into his ear.
“Sometimes, Beloved, it takes all my will power not to mark you as my own. I grow tired of all those peons looking upon what I own.”
Then the weight lifted and Bruce flopped around to see Kal adjusting his uniform pants as he flew into the sun. Bruce pulled his arms to his front and waited for the blood to resume flowing. He had tried in his years of training to prepare for every eventuality, but nothing had even touched on this. He wasn’t equipped to handle a possessive alien lover placing the fate of the world in his hands. Understanding this made it possible to recognize the feeling in his gut as panic. Batman did not panic, but apparently Kal’s sex slave could. When the blood returned to his arms, he cleaned up and headed for the gym. Attempting to sleep now would be pointless.
sBSbBs
An assault of sunlight brought Bruce out of his dreams but it took him a moment to figure out where he was. Alfred was standing over him, so that was a considerable help in calming and orienteering. He noticed a book on his chest and remembered he was in the library. How many times since Kal had come to him had he woken here? Clark had even found him here a couple of times, but his curiosity was abated by sex. He’d been trying to do a little reading after patrols; hoping human psychology would give him an insight into what to do about Kal. It wasn’t going all that well actually. He sighed and sat up, as Alfred handed him a cup of coffee.
“Master Bruce, if there is something amiss with your bed; a few words in my ear will remedy the situation.” Alfred’s code for ‘what’s up with you.’
“I’m just trying to figure someone out.” Alfred had a great understanding of people, but this was such a strange situation Bruce hadn’t thought he’d be able to help. If he had believed Alfred could have helped, he would have asked him the morning after he learned what Kal was saying.
“Naturally Sir. I had noticed your increased appreciation of psychology.” He waited a moment to see if Bruce would do more than sip his coffee. “I am afraid you will not find a solution to your Joker problem in these texts.”
Bruce sighed; clearly Alfred was reluctant to let this go. Maybe his fresh eyes could provide some insight after all. “It’s not the Joker, it’s Clark. I found out something that he doesn’t want me to know. And what I know is, well, scary.”
Alfred settled into a chair and regarded Bruce a minute before speaking. “Master Bruce, I am afraid this is one of those situations where the answer would be obvious to everybody, except you.”
Alfred held up a calming hand to Bruce’s glare. “Admit it Master Bruce, personal relationships have never been your forte. Now, take a moment to consider these psychology texts you have been devouring lately. What do they all say to do before beginning to diagnose a patient?”
“Well, while you’re talking to the patient there is a series of questions that can lead you to a diagnosis.” Bruce replied, unsure of exactly where Alfred was going with this.
“Yes, first you must talk to the patient. Or, in your case, you must talk about this with Master Kent.” Alfred’s firm gaze and wise words made Bruce squirm a little. “But of course, you found out by using subterfuge, and do not want tell him you know. Fortunately, Master Clark is a very forgiving individual. Tell him of your transgression and let him met out the appropriate punishment.”
“Alfred, you don’t understand, mainly because I can’t tell you.” Bruce placed his empty cup on the tray. “He can’t put his feelings for me above the good of the whole planet.”
“I doubt he will, when the appropriate time comes. Master Kent is very aware of his responsibilities and takes them to heart. If he said otherwise, it might have been his way of venting emotional stress.”
Bruce sagged against the back of the couch in relief. “Of course, Alfred! It was just stress talking, Clark would never do that. Thank God! And thank you, Alfred. Next time Clark does something weird, I’m coming straight to you.”
“Sir, while I really hope you are correct, you still need to discuss this with Master Kent.” Alfred was right, but Bruce was too relieved to care right now. If it came up, he would deal with it. Bruce nodded at Alfred and headed upstairs to prepare for his day, happy the mystery was solved.
sBSbBs
Two months slid by without a visit from Kal-el, proving it was just Clark venting an enormous amount of stress. Bruce thought that frequent sex would keep Clark from reaching that point and had enjoyed making sure they got together as often as possible. He sincerely believed it would have worked, if only he hadn’t been so damn fallible. A fight on a roof, a hostage shoved over. Jumping after him had been his only choice, and his grappling hook missed. He tucked and rolled so he took the brunt of the impact of a four story fall. Alfred reset his dislocated shoulder and wrapped his ribs, but it meant a week or two on the sidelines. He told Clark there were still things they could do, but Clark felt it was the perfect opportunity to practice cuddling. A skill Bruce lacked, according to Clark, but practicing it made Clark happy.
When he was recovered enough to convince Clark to have sex with him, they took a Monday night off to enjoy it. They had fallen asleep in each other’s arms, but Clark had accidently awakened Bruce as he left for some emergency. Grumbling, Bruce had forced himself to fall back to sleep. When a strong, naked body entwined with his, he accepted it and tried for more sleep. The cold woke him and he blinked at his surroundings. The stars were way too close and the ground way too far. A look at his lover’s face and Bruce knew it was Kal who held him. That alien leered at him before leaning back so Bruce was lying on top of him. Kal’s erection was now trapped between them, so he grabbed Bruce’s shoulders and started pushing his whole body up and down. Bruce did not appreciate this, so he scrambled to find a hold on Kal. Grabbing Kal’s wrists he wrapped his legs around Kal’s waist and locked his ankles. Now it was Kal’s turn to dislike the situation.
“How dare you fight me, Beloved! You know you want this; you just can’t let yourself admit it! You think you want control, but in my arms you relinquish control. Understand that or you will get hurt.” Bruce was shocked at how threatening Kal sounded. Kal started to roll over in the air and the panic was back in Bruce’s stomach. “I will get what I need from you, whether you want to give it or not!”
With their positions reversed, gravity pulled Bruce away from Kal, just enough that he could go back to getting friction from a reluctant Bruce. Bruce considered pulling himself tighter to Kal, but thought the alien could probably outlast him in the cold atmosphere. So he took a deep breath, and kicked away. He plummeted toward the ground, aware of the shocked look on Kal’s face. Bruce wondered idly, if he was going to destroy the world if it killed me, what will he do to himself if he lets me die? Then Kal moved, gathering Bruce in his arms and returning to the bed. His ankles were over Kal’s shoulders and Kal was pounding into him as he talked.
“Crazy Beloved! Reckless! Defying me at every turn. Letting yourself get injured when you know how much I need you! Tell me, and I will take you away from all this. You will live forever, giving me a reason to keep fighting. Show the slightest fear and I will take you away, lock you away for your safety. I hate the fear I see in others around me, but you never feared me. What does fear taste like on your skin? Lock you away, so you will never risk your precious life for someone too stupid to drop to the floor when armed men show up. Your life is supposed to be mine, Beloved! Never forget that. Mine!”
A final thrust and Kal was filling Bruce with liquid. When Kal relaxed, Bruce scrambled away from him. So much for putting off that conversation, Bruce thought. He did decide to ease into it, talk to Clark instead of Kal and keep it in English. “Clark, we really need to talk. These little episodes of yours are getting out of hand.”
Kal growled back. “You dare speak to me in that crude language! You are probably as undeserving of my love as the rest of them, but my heart demands only you.”
Overlapping thoughts raced through Bruce’s head, so he shut them all out and tried again. When he started to speak, he hadn’t made up his mind which language to use; he just knew he needed to reach Clark. “Clark?”
But Kal’s attention was focused outside the window and he grunted with disgust. Then he moved, dressed and flew off. Bruce stared out into the sky until the dawn light disrupted his thoughts.
Chapter 2
