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The Encounter

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"Mr. Wayne? Mr. Wayne?!" Bruce felt irritation well up inside him at the speaker's unwelcome persistence. He was already frustrated at having to attend this ridiculous charity event, the persona of Bruce Wayne having to be maintained, and he had no desire to speak to another infatuated or curious fan. He only needed the download to be completed and then he could make his excuses and return to the comforting darkness of his home and alter ego.

He continued walking, hoping that that the man would assume he'd not heard and desist with trying to hail him.

"Mr. Wayne!" He sighed deeply. This pest was not to be deterred. Very well.

Schooling his features into one of surprised interest he turned in the direction of the voice, a scathing rebuke ready on the tip of his tongue, determined to forever convince the man that Bruce Wayne was not a man to be bothered.

It died there as his eyes met those of one of the most extraordinarily handsome men he had ever encountered, and Bruce Wayne had encountered MANY in his extensive travels.

He felt his mouth go dry as a large, powerful hand was extended in greeting, and he felt his loins tighten as he took it in his own strong grip.

"Clark Kent. Daily Planet."

Shit. A journalist. And from the Daily Planet no less.

What was a man like this doing there? And, more importantly, why had Bruce never noticed him before?

He was beautifully handsome. That rare balance which sat teetering between rugged and beautiful that, if tipped slightly in either direction, would fall firmly into odd and unusual. It was a look better suited to the playhouse or catwalk than the mundane and plebeian Daily Planet.

But, that was a consideration best left for another time. As much as he would prefer it to be otherwise he was not here for pleasure.

"My foundation has already issued a statement in support of, ah, the cause," he explained in way of dismissal.

"What do you think of the Bat Vigilante in Gotham?"

Bruce felt a sigh escape him one again. The man's dogged persistence was beginning to wear on The Batman's nerves. Handsome or not, he did not owe this Mr. Kent an explanation and he was, technically, Bruce Wayne's employee. And if Mr. Kent wanted a fight The Batman was more then happy to oblige: he could start them just as easily as he could finish them.

"Daily Planet….do I own this one or is that the other guy?" He smirked as he saw Mr. Kent's beautiful mouth twist into a frown and he knew his opening bunch had hit home.

"Civil Liberties are being trampled on in your city. Good people living in fear."

Bruce bit back the smile of admiration that threatened to overtake his carefully crafted smirk of distain. Mr. Kent had enough presence to not bite the wriggling worm when he knew a hook was embedded within.

But Bruce Wayne was no ordinary fisherman. All he need do was make the worm a little more desirable.

"Don't believe everything you hear, son."

Bruce smiled as he saw the veiled insult take a notch out of Mr. Kent's formidable resolve.

"I've seen him, Mr. Wayne. He thinks he's above the law."

Ah! Finally the reporter had arrived at his point! What this young Metropolis whelp did not understand was that the Batman was not above the law because he WAS the law.

Time to end end this little tit-for-tat.

"The Daily Planet criticizing those that think they are above the law is a little….hypocritical….wouldn't you say? Considering anytime your hero saves a cat out of a tree you write a puff piece editorial about an ALIEN who could, if he wanted to, burn the whole place down. And there's not a damn thing we would do to stop it."

Mr. Kent ducked his head and Bruce knew the barb had bitten deep. To his surprise, however, he recovered quickly and came up swinging.

"Most of world doesn't share your opinion, Mr. Wayne."

Of course they don't….The Batman's not like most of the world.

"Maybe it's the Gotham City in me. We just have a bad history of freaks dressed like clowns."

Bruce felt some of his triumph die as Mr. Kent seemed to deflate again at the quip, a shard of sadness dulling his beautiful eyes.

The Batman rarely felt remorse and, when he did, he shuttered it away in the deep recesses of his mind and left it there to disappear in a veil of dust and neglect.

This would just be another such memory to similarity discard.

Luckily Lex chose that moment to appear, breaking the moment between the two men, easing the tense air between them with his brilliant energy that always seemed to teeter on the edge of insanity.

Seeing that Lex had ensnared a hapless Clark Bruce took the welcome opportunity to slip away.

Guided by Alfred's calm voice in his ear he slipped past the other guests and made his way back down into the basement where he had left his jump drive.

"Mr. Wayne?"

For fuck's sake! Why would that silly reporter not leave him in peace?!

Squeezing his eyes shut he quickly searched his extensive repertoire of lies and settled upon a fitting excuse for his presence here.

He turned to face Mr. Kent, the excuse already forming on the tip of his tongue, when suddenly he felt immensely powerful arms wrap around him and he was smashed with jarring force against the wall behind him.

His breath was painfully forced from his lungs as his body was compressed between the wall at his back and a body that felt like steel against his front. The Batman rose up in outrage but Bruce pushed him down. This was not the time!

Opening his eyes they were met by the stunning brown ones of Clark Kent, their soft innocence now replaced with a deep fire as they searched his with knowing intensity.

Bruce met the gaze with his own formidable glare, daring the man to do something about it.

Bruce expected a moralistic rebuke, a slap, a threat to investigate his public and private affairs, but the sudden press of demanding lips on his took him completely off guard.

All desire to win the confrontation fled as Clark ran his tongue along the seem of Bruce's lips, asking for entrance, and Bruce granted it, ignoring the Batman's growl of disapproval.

Clark kissed like he looked. With beautiful and unassuming elegance. And with a surprising skill that belied his innocent naivety.

Strong hands ran with maddeningly controlled strength over his body and he moaned into Clark's mouth as one slipped down the front of his trousers until it found his cock and began to stroke him with practiced ease. Bruce arched his back as pleasure flooded his senses. The full lips found his throat and began to suck a bruise into the tanned skin.

"Clark…," he gasped, pressing his hands hard against the chest so close to his own.

He felt kiss-swollen lips at his ear. "Let go, Bruce. For once, just let go."

Clenching his jaw, Bruce, for the first time since Robin had been killed, stopped being The Batman and truly became Bruce Wayne.

The rest of the encounter was a blur of sensation, a bouquet of pleasure and pain. His naked back scraping over the rough wall, his legs wrapped firmly about slim, muscular hips, a powerful, thick cock hitting his prostate over and over while a talented tongue plundered his mouth.

Large hands holding his naked body like he was precious and fragile, each thrust into his ass careful yet perfect, dirty yet strangely reverent.

The building pleasure erupted behind his eyes he released himself between their pressed bodies. Vaguely he felt an answering warmth spread inside him, a familiar yet strangely alien feeling, and then nothing.



The familiar, gentle voice penetrated Bruce's sleep-fogged mind and he blinked his gummy eyes open with effort. The familiar wood paneling and carpet of his room at Wayne Manor met his tired gaze.

Rolling up onto one elbow he winced as the movement pulled at sore muscles. And there was a dull fire in his ass. He furrowed his brow in uncharacteristic confusion. Had he had an encounter at the gala? He typically made it a point to remember all of his exploits. Rolling up further he met the soft eyes of his butler.

"Alfred. How….."

"A nice young man, Clark Kent, brought you by."

If Bruce had been any other man he would have blushed at the mischievous twinkle in his old friend's eyes.

"He said you had enjoyed a little too much of Mr. Luthor's open bar."

Bruce fell back against the silk sheets with a sigh. God he was so tired.

"I'll leave you to rest, Sir."

"Thank you, Alfred."

"You are always welcome, Master Wayne."

He heard the door shut with a soft thump and, closing his eyes, he allowed his mind to drift back to the night before. Fuzzy images emerged then began to sharpen and focus.

Clark Kent.

Bruce smiled to himself. Who had truly won their argument?

Bruce considered offering the man a raise and promotion to keep him in closer proximity but his acute judgment of character told him the Clark Kent would simply refuse. He was much too humble a man to accept something that he knew he had not rightfully earned.

Curling onto his side Bruce Wayne allowed himself to sink back into a restful sleep, tucked close around the images of Clark Kent, pushing The Batman away for a little while longer. Just a little while longer.