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In the Spectrum of Grey {Final Edit}

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In the Spectrum of Grey {Final Edit}

by Rose etta


Garnet cape billowing under pale moonlight, Superman hovered near a tall spire while riding the night wind high above Metropolis. The super-being's expression grew withdrawn as he watched the Humans going about their business amid the glittering lights of a Friday Autumn evening.

~~~how many persons do I know~~~have the power of life and death like I do?~~~

The Kryptonian gave a short snort and glanced over to the tower's chill steel girder that his fingers grazed. With a quick flick and a little ping, the thirty-foot edifice creaked and belled its answering complaint.

~~~yeah, well that's easy: like...no one!~~~

~~~doctors?~~~

~~~no - nobody's just the same~~~

~~~I Am An Instrument Of Destiny...~~~

~~~but I really am~~~from Cassandra's visions~~~to Jordan Cross' premonitions~~~

His brows bound below his curl.

~~~that always makes me think of Lex~~~but he's my worst example~~~

~~~goddamn Lex!~~~

~~~ruining the life Lana and I were meant to have - all because I rescued him from the death he was meant to have~~~

Superman flexed his powerful muscles and sent his emotion to his mighty hands, shaking them as his fingers clenched tight.

~~~it's a damned hateful power!~~~

With a bitter purse to his lips, he broke his pose to fly a few feet away from the skyscraper tower ~~~because I'd really rather give it a good punch, right now~~~

~~~but I guess I'll have to go beat-up... asteroids or something, now, anyway~~~ he self-mocked.

~~~god, I hate this~~~

Superman faced toward the stars thick above.

After a while, the alien began listening to the city's hum.

A while after that Superman resumed his oversee of Metropolis.

By habit, he picked-out familiar sights around town - his apartment windows, the globe-topped Planet building, Lois Lane's condo, Chloe Sullivan's place - and slowly he finally showed a bit of a smile.

~~~well, I'm okay, I guess~~~most of the time~~~until I get morbid, like tonight~~~

~~~yeah, at twenty-three I think I've got it down pretty pat~~~ he consoled himself somewhat, then braced his soul, to face the worst of his thoughts: ~~~but...~~~

~~~but, I think maybe Jor-El told me to rule Earthlings with wisdom, really meaning for it to sink-in when I feel old, like now~~~

~~~I really do feel like a god - and I hate it~~~

~~~Dad's gone - and now, Mom~~~I never thought I could survive it~~~but... well, here I am~~~

~~~here I am, but alone~~~

Hearing shots fired, out on the far-side of town, Superman shut his eyes less than a moment before he snapped to alertness and aimed his far-vision with determination. Speeding to intervene, his bright form streaked into disappearance.

~~~where is that damn cell phone...?~~~

"Kent, here," he answered flatly.

At first, nothing, and he began to press his hearing toward Super-ranges.

Finally, a low, gruff scratch of a voice.

"We need to set up a method of communication..." was all the speaker stated, his final syllable sinking deep and low.

Clark frowned.

"Who the hell is this?"

But the reply didn't satisfy: "Meet me where you were hanging-out last night, before you got that armed robber out on the East side."

~~~maybe he's there, right now!~~~

Turning completely around in his chair, he pierced his vision miles to the tower in question, but, no...

~~~nobody~~~

Stiffening from his increasing tension, Clark used a relatively-steady voice, "And... just where would that be?"

The only response was, "Three a.m.," and the growl of it almost held a warning not to stand him up, before the final click.

After staring at his cell phone to see only Private Number, within a few instants Clark performed a detailed scan of his floor at the Planet, and through all windows of other building within sight, to see if he could catch the caller observing him.

No luck, and he lay his cell phone down upon the papers covering his desk, blew out a gust of air, and muttered, "Well, shit."

Superman hung above clouds in the frigid heights such that he would be but a speck to a viewer even in daytime, but at three a.m. he was invisible.

He'd been grumbling to himself all night, waiting for the crank-caller to show himself. He'd been scanning the elevators and stairs leading to the tower's viewing terrace for hours. He'd also x-rayed and close-range imaged, and passed time people-tracking of likely faces that might, in his imagination, have matched the danger held by that low, husky voice.

"God damn it!" Superman hissed to himself in exasperation, still awaiting his appointment. "I haven't done any stupid stuff in years - and now somebody figures me out?"

He rubbed one hand over his face slowly, distracting himself from his more acute feelings: the spikes of utter fear, that he might never live even his semi-normal life, again. He'd have to relocate with a pseudonym - start off as a total lie - never be at least Clark Kent, again. Nothing real, after that.

Snagged from his bleak despair, suddenly Superman's arms spread and his knees flexed as he tilted slightly forward in preparation of downward flight, his scarlet cape poised after a snap.

"There he is!" he caught sight - not of a viewing-terrace patron, but of the black-winged Legend of Gotham, but three months past his debut of saving his city from Ra's Al Ghul.

Batman had swung aloft Tarzan-like from another tower and now alighted the pinnacle above the viewing terrace, precisely where the night before Superman had rested pensively. Crouching, Batman gripped the building's topmost spire then tilted his cowled face upward - to where his rendezvous lurked.

In a streak of bright blur, Superman hovered before his call, arms folded and brow corded.

"Uh, hello, pleased to meet you, but did you have to scare the crap out of me, like that?" the alien expressed.

He nonetheless loosened-up enough to clasp the black leather-blazed hand offered him for a strong grapple of a shake.

Beneath the chiseled mask, smug lips soothed with a sand-scraped voice dark as chocolate, "I didn't intend to have that effect - I'm not big on chit-chat."

Incredulous at first, Superman narrowed his eyes and challenged, "That's a lot of horse shit."

Wild winds swept between them as they faced each other. Below stars and above city lights, the two heroes sized each other up.

Finally, deadpan, the Batman admitted, "I was pulling your chain a little."

Within a few moments, Superman gave a short laugh, turned his head, and shook it a bit. The Batman indulged in a chuckle, and that was how they met.

Later that night, Clark Kent aroused himself before sleep by imagining Chloe sucking his long, thick cock, and he pinched his nipple as if it were hers, and he gasped as she might. His other hand stood-in for her lipsticked-lips, his thumb tickling the tip as he fantasized her wicked tongue could, and he groaned loudly with his eventual success.

In Gotham, a certain billionaire spent hours gloriously re-living the close contact he'd finally experienced of his sister-city's super-hero. He stroked every part of his own body corresponding to that of the alien while he re-examined with delight - as if before his eyes, so tightly shut - every luscious muscle of the perfect form hugged by that garish costume.

When his own burly hand brought his release, it stood-in for full, pouty lips of dark pink - below large, eager round eyes of jade.

Every so often, now, one or the other of the heroic men would call each other for assistance, upon the ear-piece communicators the Batman had so graciously supplied.

Each transmission was taped and re-played within Bruce Wayne's ear as he nightly thrashed upon his bed, envisioning that open, boyish countenance, so earnest and pure, while his double-fists grappled himself to orgasm equally pure.

Catching his breath, settling-in beneath silky bed sheets, each night Wayne assured himself he wasn't in love.

One late night, after a bloody injury to his fellow, Superman brought his guest to his Kent apartment and laid him upon his own bed before assembling dressing for the wound.

The Batman was silent as he received the alien's gentle ministration and comforting murmurs. He lay with his head to one side, covertly inhaling the sweet spice of Clark's pillow.

With a boyish grin, Superman cleaned-up then sat next to his fellow-in-heroics, saying, "There! All better!" He sought Batman's smile.

Instead, the Dark Knight remained in repose, the deep glittering eyes within his mask trained upon the innocent at his side.

Settling into stillness, Superman joined him in companionable silence.

The Batman's strong fingers within supple leather reached slowly to grasp Superman's blue-covered Herculean forearm.

"Lay with me," was all Gotham's Avenger said by way of explanation.

The being from another world flushed red from his neck to his temples as he drew a short breath in response. Beneath those sailing brows, his doll's eyes blinked while his lips went from powder-pink to claret, sharing the blush.

He didn't break away from the hold.

"Uh - well - ," Superman began to stammer, "uh, I've never, um, even thought of that..."

Batman's gaze pierced him.

"But," the man in black stated, nearly in question, "you'll think of it, now."

Ducking his head, looking like the farm boy wearing a silly outfit, "Um, year - I mean, no!" He'd found a surety around which to wrap, and his posture was strong once more.

Batman released his grip but his mouth curled, at the fluster his overture had brought about.

"No?" he pushed, his dark eyes intent.

"I mean," Superman ran on, "we can't do it because we're co-workers."

Now this did bring a laugh to the Dark Warrior and Superman's face burned, his brows tweaking in irritation.

Breaking into a stronger glower, Superman asserted, "You should never have sex with someone you work with!"

Batman's lips were crumply as he shook, even though it was clear he didn't intend to be mean.

Still, Superman rose to his feet and elaborated to quell his embarrassment, "It's just not a good idea - it might affect how we respond during a disaster."

Straight to the heart of it, the Batman raised himself onto his elbow, one hand's fingers loosely tangled into the other's across his chest, and he asked, "You mean, you might let a busload of toddlers sink in the drink, if it meant saving me?"

With a start, Superman whirled to face him in horror, his eyes wide and his mouth agape.

"What an awful thing to - " then he caught the Dark Knight's assessing gaze.

Drawing himself up to top height, his deep breath expanding his chest fully, Superman coolly announced with a nod, "I'd manage to save you both - you and the bus."

At the pity in Batman's eyes, Superman became upset and surged, "Don't do this to me!"

The young hero's expression turned vulnerable as he continued, "It's hard enough doing this, as it is!"

Jumping up from Clark's bed, Batman made to leave but as he brushed past his fellow-hero, he whispered suggestively into his ear, "Well, then, I won't make it... hard for you..."

And, he was gone - out the window - soon lost in the corridors he frequented between buildings.

Superman looked about his bachelor's roost with a sudden yearning, and swore, "God damn it!" When he lifted-off to exit his window for the clouds, a sonic boom rattled glass for blocks.

Responding to the words from his earpiece, Clark excused himself from an editorial meeting and found a secluded room within which to speak.

"We have privacy now - what did you say about Luthor?" the reporter asked, all in a rush.

"I said," came the tight voice, "Luthor's gone missing."

Green eyes nervously flit about as Clark whisked into the garb of his world then sped up the Planet building's stairs and cast-off from the roof into the skies.

"Well," he inquired as he gained altitude, "where was he last seen?"

"Gotham," was the response, "but something doesn't smell right about this - "

"I don't care," Superman declared as he streaked the sky toward his crime-fighting friend's domain. "I'll be right there - where are you?"

His irritation rather successfully shielded, the Batman ground-out, low, "I'll be at the top of the Gotham Arms."

"Do you know what Luthor was doing in this city?" Superman inquired as he stood near the hotel's illuminated signage atop its roof.

Each of the heroic duo had ignored rather successfully their personal exchange on private matters within Kent's apartment during the few weeks since it had occurred.

Yet, between them it was as if an obscuring film had been lifted, and ever since then Superman found himself observing the Human hero closely, establishing Batman's small tells. Today, he could read the Gotham Crusader's slight peevishness from the obvious concern for his erstwhile friend his own voice betrayed.

"Supposedly..." the Batman stressed before proceeding, "he was here to check on a LexCorp facility, but - "

"Batman," Superman interrupted, "this is one of the things I meant, when I said feeling would interfere with - "

"I'm telling you straight!" The dark mask took on a fearsome cast as the Gotham Savior spat forth, "This is one of his games!"

The Man of Steel rolled his head as he looked aside in exasperation, "Just tell me what you know."

"It was a meeting with Luthor Steel he'd already scheduled his subordinate to handle then switched himself in at the last minute." Dark eyes hardened as he added, "You do the math."

"What could Luthor possibly gain," Superman posed, "from pulling something like this?"

"Do we ever know?" the black Scourge of the Rooftops asked sourly. "Until he's already gained it - and we end-up the fools?"

"Listen, until we know it's something like that," Superman firmly stated, "we treat this on face value as a real event, you understand?"

Pulling back into blase offhandedness, Batman agreed with sardonic amiability, "Of course." He watched with faint amusement as his fellow foe-of-iniquity clenched and ground his jaws.

"Fine!" came the super-being's response. "I'll scan all Luthor holdings within the city, and - could you please take this seriously and investigate any potential intrigues this seemingly-mundane meeting might have had?"

Batman entered the hotel building from its rooftop door, the whirl of his cape his only response to their discussion.

Watching the retreating form in black, Superman gave a huff in frustration then darted aloft to commence his anxious and meticulous scan of the city unfamiliar below him.

On the third day of the search, which had progressed to Superman examining all abandoned buildings and Batman calling on Lieutenant Gordon for leads, Lex Luthor was finally found -

- in a luxury apartment, high above Gotham with a panoramic terrace view.

True, he was shackled by an ankle to the bed, but the thin, shiny chain was long enough to reach the en suite bathroom. Yes, his hands were bound before him and he wore a diminutive ball-gag, but his pale grey silk robe was smooth and clean - as was his nude form underneath - and he was suffering no worse than bothersome hunger and moderate dehydration.

Batman refused even to enter the place, instead proffering the inevitable, "Told you," before casting his grapple line in disgust to swing away amongst the skyscrapers.

Superman stood there, taking it all in.

Luthor looked on, relishing.

"You know," the Metropolis billionaire drawled, "your face is just as open to me right now, as when you were my teenaged pal."

Snapping-to, Superman glared in anger, "What the hell is going on, here?"

"Oh, you know how things get a little slow," Luthor tossed off. "I wanted to replicate a little bondage fantasy of mine." He stretched his long-cramped arms but made no effort to tighten the loosely-belted robe that rode his lean body.

His impudence supreme, he grinned, "Care to improvise with me?"

Taking the bait with predictability, Superman in a blink had the bald magnate pushed against the wall with his large mitt around Luthor's pale neck.

"You played me for a fool!" he seethed at the smirking devil from his past.

"That's... it!" encouraged Luthor. "Now... smack me around... and you'll really be in my dreams tonight..."

The super-hero's eyes were shocked wide by his confusion and he quickly released the adder before him and backed away. In anguish, Superman stood tall and denounced his former friend.

"You're sick, Lex!" he barked. "How many people got hurt or died, all because I was wasting my time finding you!"

"Well, then," Luthor purred, "we might as well make it all worth it, don't you think?" He chuckled as he watched the ethically-bound creature before him helplessly tighten his hands into impotent, unusable fists.

With his head cocked low and his eyes trained hard, Superman swore, "I'm never going to save you, again, Luthor!"

"Liar," Lex said coyly then outright grinned while Superman first blustered then was gone with a wild flutter of curtains.

Luthor sashayed to the closet to set out the clothes that awaited him then shed his robe for a delightful visit to the deluxe shower his accommodations offered.

Later that afternoon, Clark Kent sat slumped at his newsroom desk.

~~~how can I face the Batman, after this?~~~ he thought.

~~~he was absolutely right, and I doubted him all because of the stupid second-guessing I accused him of!~~~

He flicked a pen onto his desk, still staring at nothing.

Shaking his head slowly, he convinced himself ~~~and, I know Lex is going to keep rubbing this in~~~

"Kent!" he heard editor Perry White bellow.

"Coming, Chief!" and the reporter's foreboding came true, for he was assigned to interview Lex Luthor in an hour, all about his harrowing kidnapping.

"Chief," Clark attempted, "I'm really busy with this other story, right now, so can Lois - "

"Now, Kent!" the Editor-in-Chief roared. "He specifically requested you!"

~~~of course, he did~~~ Clark closed his eyes in defeat.

"So, get a move on and get over there, before he changes his mind and gives this to The Inquisitor!"

"Yes, Sir," Clark said meekly, then made his way to Luthor Towers in the most round-about manner possible before the appointed time.

Led within the office by a smirking Mercy, Clark Kent stood rigidly before Lex Luthor, his emotions bouncing between stinging resignation and barely-contained seethe.

"What do you want, now, Lex?" he ground out.

Ensconced in the seat of his immeasurable power, Luthor tilted his head, his fingers steepled before him, and he spoke in the cultured tones of false amiability.

"Greetings, Mr. Kent," he opened. "I only want to share with your readers the harsh adventure I underwent."

"Alright," suggested Clark, "so just give me the tissue of lies your speech writers have concocted and I'll pound it into printable form. That way, you're happy, Perry's happy, and I'm disgusted, but that's never going to change, so - "

"Nonsense!" Lex replied.

Clark cocked his head, waiting for it.

"That won't make me happy..." Luthor raised an eyebrow then proceeded.

"First off," Lex offered, "scan around the office, here, to assure yourself that I have no recording devices in place..." and at Clark's hesitance he explained, "... to allow us to talk about all-things Super."

A faint furrow to his brow, Clark complied and returned his gaze to his opponent.

"All safe and secure?" Luthor confirmed. "Good."

"Now," Luthor began, arising from his chair to pour himself a Scotch, "I have it on good authority that a certain Metropolis Boy in Blue has been enjoying increasing contact with a certain Gotham Lunatic in Black, am I right?"

Awash in distress at this turn to the conversation, Clark recovered admirably and lightly explained, "We work together as needs be."

After taking a sip, Lex smacked his lips and said, "Nothing more than that?"

He enjoyed almost a full minute of Clark's thoughts flitting across his visage, before Luthor found himself pinned to the wall once again, his drink flown from his fingers.

"You've got my place bugged?" Clark fumed. "By god, I ought to - "

"Yeah... ngh..." Lex pressed past the grip around his throat, "you really ought to... one of these days."

Tossing Luthor a bit as he released him, Clark turned and strode for the door.

"I know who he is!" Lex called after the reporter while he rubbed his neck and straightened his jacket and tie.

Without turning, Clark asked over his shoulder, "What do you mean?"

Grabbing-up a fresh glass of cut crystal, Luthor explained while he poured, "I mean, I know the Batman's secret identity - and I'll blast it all over the media - if..." and he let it hang.

Turning, Clark held his powerful arms slightly out, in battle mode, and he grated, "'If', what?"

"If you don't do a small favor for me," Lex smiled and sipped, enjoying his drink almost as much as his control of this situation.

"How can I tell you're not just pretending to know?" Clark asked.

"I'll tell you, now: he's - " but Lex was interrupted by Kent's raised hands.

"No!" Clark objected loudly. "I don't want to hear."

Looking truly surprised, Luthor gave a laugh and said, "Is this some super-hero solidarity thing? - you protect each other's lies?"

"I respect his privacy - until he decides to tell me," Kent asserted stiffly.

"I seem to remember trying that tactic..." Luthor smirked. "Didn't pan out..."

Ignoring the jab, Clark intoned warily, "You Luthors taught me never to give-in to blackmail - that the pressure never stops."

"I'm willing to offer assurances - " Lex tried to say - before Clark's harsh bark of a laugh interrupted him.

"You'll never be able to assure me about anything, again!" Clark scorned.

"Then," Luthor spoke softly, "I guess you'll have to make this single exception, Clark." He began a slow approach to where the cornered reporter stood.

Halting before Kent, Luthor looked straight up at him, stating, "I swear by Lillian, my mother."

At Kent's quick sneer, Luthor added solemnly, "You know what that means, Clark - you can fly me there and I'll swear with my hand on her grave, if that's what it takes."

Struggling with the difficult ambiguity of the situation, Clark attempted, "You probably just want me to do something illegal or immoral, so - "

"No," Lex quelled that excuse. "Not at all," and he took a small step forward, leaving himself quite close to his prey.

"I simply want to enjoy the fruits of my labor, that's all," he claimed, inscrutably. "I mean - I only want what I've earned."

"And, what's that?" Clark found the courage to inquire.

I want to be intimate with you," Lex whispered, "before he is."

"What the - !" Kent expostulated. "What is this? I turn twenty-three, and suddenly I'm a man-magnet?" He stalked away from the viper crowding him.

Luthor countered, "You've been blind to it - in denial, like the good Kansas Son you are - but since you hit puberty, you've been attractive enough to make a statue cry for your touch."

His face snapping back to Luthor, Clark's eyes grew large and his brows pitched-up high.

"So, all that time...?"

"Oh, yes," Lex agreed with an exasperated chuckle. "All that time we were close, I lusted for you mightily, and I withheld my proven seductive ability out of respect for out then-friendship!"

Red-faced, Clark raged, "And, the laws of this state!'

"That, too," Luthor grinned, "but you know I only obey the law when it suits me, Mr. Kent."

As Kent looked aside, incensed, Lex announced, "I could have had you any time I wanted, Clark!"

When Kent turned back, feigning disbelief, Luthor insisted, "You know it's true!"

Hand to his forehead from the magnitude of it all, Clark summarized, "So, because you held-back from molesting me, like the fucking saint you are, you get me, now, as a - a consolation prize?"

"Yes, I will be consoled in the extreme," Luthor countered, but I just want the prize once - I won't bother you again. That is, unless..."

"Fuck Yourself To Hell, Luthor!" Kent erupted, and he swept out, his control over his heat-beams quavering.

"I give you three days, Clark!" Luthor shouted after him. "And, then it's show-time!"

Turning with a Cheshire grin, Luthor made his way to his desk to settle-in for some heavy fantasizing in anticipation of his scheme's fruition.

~~~no wonder I've been alone all this time!~~~ Clark thought abjectly, ~~~all this... is too complicating!~~~

~~~here I've been playing 'the good boy' - not even using my vision to determine the Batman's identity~~~

Kent fidgeted within his apartment that evening - after having burned to crisps all the various surveillance devices Luthor had implanted in his home.

~~~and, here this jealous enemy of mine...~~~

"Arrgh!" he yelled aloud.

The next morning Kent called-in to Perry that he was following-up on the Luthor interview then presented himself at the billionaire's office.

Strangely, Luthor's mood was tempered, with nary a hint of gloat, and he approached the super-being slowly.

~~~thank god!~~~ Clark thought, ~~~I don't know if I could have stood it, if he'd - ~~~ but his thoughts were interrupted by Lex's soft, serious question.

"Have you ever been with a man, Clark?"

"You know I haven't," Kent spat back, the fact of Lex's surveillance still smarting.

"Good," was all Lex said. Then he took Clark's hand and led the way to his private elevator upward to his penthouse.

Once within the vast bedroom, Kent held himself so rigidly that he was gently prodded backward until he rested against the wall.

No kissing yet - no intimate touching. Lex simply allowed himself the gift of his lifetime, as slow as he could make it, running his elegant hands over the poorly-fitted jacket, feeling the glorious muscles beneath.

The pulled-to drapes hid the room in semi-shadow, but Lex's legendary focus lighted his eyes.

Clark stopped looking at the far wall long enough to be affected by that gaze, which drew him in.

Irritated, Clark looked away again.

~~~pawing son of a bitch~~~ Kent bristled and re-locked himself, tight.

Tenderly, Lex slipped off the cheap outer-garment as if it were the robe of a king.

Slowly, he pulled Clark from the wall by his shirt-covered shoulders, just enough to let the jacket fall to the deeply-carpeted floor at their feet.

Lex ran his hands down Clark's arms, then up his abdomen and chest, his palms giving but a light rub to the nub on each side. He smiled - a true smile.

It softened the hard edge of Clark's feelings, remembering that smile from happier times. He glanced away again.

Not a word was spoken - Lex let touch be his eloquence.

His parted lips gave gentle kisses to his young man's neck before he unknotted and pulled away the journalist's tie.

Unbuttoning the crisp shirt one by one, Lex grinned that Clark had not worn his costume beneath.

Kent's snotty look back implied he had no interest in sullying it.

Lex took this in stride with a smirk then lowered his mouth to exhale, hot, under Clark's shirt while he finished the loosening of it, one wrist, then the other, then it, too, slithered off the alien's body to the floor.

Of a sudden, Lex was on bended knee, opening the leather belt by two tugs of his teeth. With fisted hand, he grabbed the buckle hard and slithered the shiny leather loose fast, tossing it to the side with command.

On both knees, now, he caressed the super-being's thighs through the navy suit-trousers, then snaked his hands out and around to encompass Clark's firm butt with a hard clasp.

Lex looked up at Clark as if to his... salvation. He leaned forward to place one kiss upon one thigh then lay his cheek upon it. Staring with intent at Clark's crotch, his lips traced an advance to nuzzle with care.

Feeling the warmth from Luthor's mouth flooding through the layers of material between them, Clark looked away and sought to lock himself once more, but he'd been caught by the drama of Lex's approach and he cursed himself as he began to harden.

~~~it's just a physiological response~~~ Clark was sure.

His stomach tightened in resistance as Lex coaxed Kent's legs slightly apart to begin mouthing through the pants one ball, then the other.

Lex looked upward again, running his palm lightly over the full bulge now pressing back under Clark's zipper.

~~~jeezus H... ~~~ Clark thought in amazement, as he beheld Lex's open look of... gratitude.

With a few flicks of Lex's practiced hands, Clark found his pants and briefs down to his knees, with Lex's silken touch now cooling Clark's hot prick. Lex's pale blue eyes were luminous with adoration.

~~~oh my god~~~ Clark suddenly comprehended. ~~~Lex loved me~~~

Clark's stinging eyes grew wet and he choked back a little sound. He knew - it was all so clear now.

His resistance Lex's efforts ebbing, Clark watched in wonder as Lex began giving little nibbles to the tender flesh surrounding his pubic nest of curly black.

Observing closely his rosy-flushed partner, Lex trailed the soft tickle of his fingers all across Clark's inner-thighs - at times slipping a tiny touch behind his hanging balls, or a slow drag up the crease of his ass, behind.

Clark swallowed a small gasp but his cock spurted, and he swung his head to look away, his hands fisting against the wall, his tension building.

It was now that Clark first heard sounds from Lex: his joyous moaning as he pulled back Clark's foreskin and lapped the clear fluid with small flicks of his tongue.

Making little random huffs, Clark looked about to distract himself from those elfin licks. His control failing, with an answering moan Clark bashed his head back into the sheet-rock behind him, leaving a hollow wherein now it rested.

Sharp to respond, Lex gave a quick, slobbery lick downward then made a slow, hard ride of his thumb over the thick blue vein marching up Clark's length.

"Aaiii!" Clark wailed and he whipped his head over toward the bedroom's fireplace, sending jolt after jolt of flame to the logs within. The blaze flared and he stared at it - panting - trying to piece together what was happening to him.

Numbly, Kent realized Lex was freeing his legs from the rest of his attire, and then Clark was turned to the wall with his hips pulled outward.

Kneeling, Lex's hands snaked up between the thighs, and he pressed upon the firm, golden abdomen, pushing Clark's ass back and open before him.

When that firm tongue slid inside him and flicked and twirled within, Clark thought he was going to die. It also freed his voice.

"Oh, god - Lex! - oh - oh - oh - ngh - ngh," he gusted-out in a flurry of sounds, and his hands - pressed to the wall before him - began to grip and ungrip in his heavenly agony.

Kent gave shaky sobs while Lex mouthed and nipped around Clark's asshole, then wormed his way back in.

Giving a little cry, Kent threw his right fist against the wall, smashing a depression, and he mindlessly fumbled the plaster between his fingers, mumbling. His cock was jutting hard and he found himself yearning for more.

"Le-x, Lex..." he pled with a whimpered, "Le-ex...?"

Arising from his knees, Lex wrapped his arms around Clark from behind and gathered him bodily from the wall, to hold him close. Luthor splayed a hand over Clark's lower-face then pulled back enough to place a hard, hard bite to the skin of the alien's neck.

Clark's body rocked as he crooned from that dominating pressure. He missed the gleam of blessed ownership in Luthor's eye.

Hulking and unsteady, Clark was guided to the bed and he flopped upon it with relief, hissing when his cock hit the surface. He began to grind into the duvet while Lex took the time to tear-off his own clothing, but then Luthor relentlessly bullied him to sit up, his hands to the headboard, and Clark groggily obeyed.

Quickly slicking himself, Luthor came up close to Clark's back and slipped his knees between the span of Clark's lower-legs.

Lex rubbed his slippery fingers all over Clark's spread ass, from time to time dipping a fingertip or thumb within.

Clark was in a panic of minute gyration, trying to chase those wonderful digits as they made their attacks only to run off again.

Clark stilled when he felt the nudge of Lex's full cock against his whirl and his back stiffened from his sudden anxiety.

"Keep trusting me, Clark," Lex rumbled hoarsely into his ear, one arm about him, steadying him. "If only for this single time, trust me in this," and he bit his neck as before, but delicately this time.

Clark relaxed somewhat.

Lex instructed, "Bear-down," at the same time that he reached around to grab-up Clark's bobbing cock.

With such a reward, Kent gladly sat back slowly, impaling himself at his own pace. The sensation was disturbingly foreign, but he gave Lex his trust.

There followed a sweet torture where Lex would almost hit some spot within him that was so insanely delicious, only to pull back to shallow the stroke. Or Lex would hit full-hard right near that spot and Clark would twist hiss butt calculated to bring the next stroke to bear so true, yet again for Lex to jerk his groin to one side or the other, spearing Clark askance once more.

All the while, Luthor ever so slowly massaged Clark's stiff rod, yet never enough.

Time didn't matter - all Clark knew was that he couldn't take much more. He began to babble his pleas - choked-out in bursts, between windy sucks of air.

Luthor closed his eyes, his own salty sweat running into them as he hugged his boy in a fierce caress.

"You're ready, Clark?" Lex breathed into the bedraggled ebony strands over the ear close to his lips. He punctuated this with a rare line-drive to that center of pleasure deep within.

Hysterical in his agreement, Clark writhed his groin, so happy - trusting Lex to soon bring him relief.

Squeezing Clark's frame tight to himself again, Lex kept teasing with the drive of his cock - deeper then shallower into Kent's ass - and prompted, "So, you are?"

His hot eyes clenched closed, with a needy whine Clark jerked his protective hands from his eyes and twisted around. Frantically whipping his tongue back and forth over Lex's lower-face, Clark mewled as convincingly as he could.

"Hm-m-m... yeah?" and Lex's pound-and-drive switched to a rapid pace and now he couldn't seem to miss his mark, so deep within Kent.

His head snapping forward, Clark went ballistic and he scorched the wall in two short black arcs before he swept his hands to re-cover his throbbing eyes, tight. His drooling mouth was held open by the wall he pressed against, his hands clamped hard over his dangerous eyes. He groaned incoherently.

"Hmm?" Luthor reminded, and he hitched-up, away from the wall, the lumbering rag-doll of a man. Pulling Clark backward against his own chest, higher on his lap, Lex drove deep again, and again, in a frenzy, all the while rotating his slippery, cupped hand over the hitherto-neglected head of Clark's dick.

Like a man on fire, Clark shrieked and screamed as he squeezed his ass and came. Lex followed, mid-stroke from the sheer pressure of it, with a bit-off "Clark - !" clearing his lips before he held them shut while his balls pumped.

Wavering on his knees, still within, Lex gave a final push by his softening cock and Clark, folder-over before him. Shook his head for mercy.

Wiping sweat from his brow with his forearm, his whippet form glistening, Lex Luthor smirked in utter satisfaction.

Showered clean and side-by-side, Lex lay with half his body upon Clark's, finding sleep a poor excuse to miss the chance to run his fingers through those fetching, boyish tousles. Nor let his lips abide from their constant small kisses of endearment across Clark's cheek and neck.

Awakening from a short doze, Clark opened his eyes to those of his single-time lover.

His first attempt at speech a mere croak, Clark cleared his throat and confessed with a whispered, "I understand, now, Lex."

"Do you, Clark?" was Luthor's reply - ever testing, ever sardonic - yet he bestowed another feather-light kiss.

"You loved me," Clark said, simply.

"Yes," Lex confirmed, and his gaze was deep.

A moment, then Clark said, "I loved you, too," and he lifted a hand to caress Lex's bare head.

~~~we made a fond farewell~~~I finally know what that means~~~ a preoccupied Reporter Kent mused, until his partner Lois awoke him.

"Smallville!" she clapped her hands.

"Uh..." he responded, "Huh?" He turned to face her, resting his elbow upon the desk.

"You have something, Lois?" he asked as he sat up straight. "Better make it good - I was just getting to the best part of my daydream..." and he ended with his patented blinding grin.

"Oh-oh!" Lois Lane exclaimed, arching one tiny boomerang of a tawny brow. "Mighty saucy today, Farm Boy - what? Did you have a date with a cow?

"Lois, what is it, with you and your preoccupation with cows?" Kent frowned back. "Is it because you have such large, well-formed - "

"Okay," she said, brightening, "now I know you got some!"

Kent lost his game face for just that bit of time but it was all it took to confirm the suspicions of his too-savvy co-journalist. She hopped her pert fanny up onto the desk and tucked the gores of her black-and-white striped twirly-skirt under her long, strong thighs, her ankles crossing above her pointy fire station-red stilettos.

Her tailored black blouse framed her eager face as she leaned her tanned cleavage before her partner's nose.

"Spill: Who, What, When, Where, How, and Why," she drilled, adding as an aside, "Well, we know the 'Why' - you have no life."

Clark looked at her askance, narrowing his eyes dangerously, and Lois giggled.

"Look," Clark said, concluding the topic, "I'm not talking - it was strictly a one-time thing."

"Don't be so sure!" she called after him encouragingly as he made his escape by running off with some random file to the fax room.

Crystal-clear that the sexual imagery of Lex's stunt had been for the benefit of his super-attractive crime-fighting partner, Batman hastened that night to protect his turf.

~~~bald bastard~~~ Gotham's Hero griped as he hovered the Bat-Copter above Luthor Towers, carpet-bombing self-adhering infra-red sensors across the penthouse roof plus the external walls of the Metropolis billionaire's office. He needed immediate intelligence until he could infiltrate the exceptionally-secure premises to plant proper audio-visual surveillance.

Assisted by Oracle, Wayne also hacked into Lex's cellular signal and decrypted it - a probe he used but rarely, not wanting his brilliant competitor mogul to catch-on. Bruce set his equipment to record at the first utterance of the name, "Clark".

There wasn't long to wait, for he over-heard Luthor's call to the Planet the following day, to have everyone's favorite reporter sent by.

The resulting brightly-hued image-recordings of Clark's initial appointment at Luthor Towers had yielded nothing extraordinary to Wayne as he sat amid a swarm of slim black monitors alive with body-shapes of reds and yellows, in the dank headquarters below his Gothic manor.

When Luthor's cell didn't produce any "Clark"-calls the rest of that day nor the next, Wayne set-out at nightfall to his rounds hoping that was the end of it - but not expecting it to be.

He cursed when his review of infra-red Chez Luthor films showed Lex getting his freak on at ten-thirty a.m. with a very becoming shape of red and yellow, which Wayne inferred was Clark after calling his job.

"D'ly Plannit," the Reception Operator said too quickly.

"Hello," Wayne used a mid-ranged voice unlike his own. "I have a meeting with some reporter and I forgot his name. Could you...?"

"Here's Copy, in the Bullpen," and she transferred the line with a click.

Another two rings, then a young girl's voice answered, "Copy."

Changing his story, Wayne asked pleasantly, "Hello, I was there to meet with a Mr. Kent yesterday at ten-thirty a.m. but I think I missed him - was he around, then?"

She responded right away.

"No, he never came in until, like, right before deadline, and just barely got his piece to me in time - I remember he was a little flustered," the gal informed with a giggle.

His expression souring, Wayne gave a gruff, "Thanks - I'll call him for another appointment."

Clicking-off his earpiece, Wayne mimicked, "I remember he was a little flustered..." and he sat, grimly replaying the loop showing the sudden bloom of roaring white-yellow heat where Luthor's bedroom fireplace lay.

The following morning, Perry White was pleased to receive another call from a suddenly press-happy billionaire: Bruce Wayne, the 'Old Guard'-scion who had returned from abroad some months before.

"Uh, Mr. White," the Planet secretary intercommed, "there is a Mr. Bruce Wayne of Gotham on the phone for you."

Bushy salt-and-pepper eyebrows peaked and the Editor-in-Chief ashtrayed his cigar, clearing his throat.

"Ahem, Cynthia," White instructed, "I'll take it," then waited for the connection.

"Good morning, Mr. Wayne!" Perry effused. "What can I do for you?"

Affecting his player-of-the-good-life persona, Bruce charmed right away.

"Oh, good morning to you, too, Perry - and, please, call me Bruce. How is your little acre of the Fourth Estate doing?"

Grinning, Perry settled back in his leather executive desk chair.

"Why," he said mildly, "when my team gets their butts in gear and get their work to me on-time, I have to say I can't complain."

"I guess riding-herd is part of the job description," Bruce responded, on social auto-pilot. "Say," he then interjected, "I was thinking of something the other day."

~~~that's a miracle, from what I hear~~~ Perry snarked to himself then said with polite curiosity, "Oh - what about?"

"Well," Bruce spinned, "I was thinking about a feature article on me, for the people of Metropolis to know a bit more about Gotham's up-and-coming."

~~~this guy has got to think his shit don't stink~~~ Perry thought as he listened.

Rolling his eyes grandly, White, the businessman, nonetheless enthused, "Well, that's a wonderful idea, Bruce. My pal over at Us Magazine said their cover-story on you last month sold out."

"Splendid," Wayne proceeded. "I had in mind a sort of several-day thing, you know? Have someone stay over here at the Regent or something, and they can oh, I guess, 'hang-out' with me - get an idea of my workday and my charity efforts - we can even tour a facility or two - something like that. What do you think?"

"Excellent," White managed to say without groaning aloud at the per diem expenses of such an enterprise. "When would your schedule be open?"

"Well, that's just the thing," Bruce explained. "Something fell-through and I find myself at somewhat of a loss as to how to fill the rest of my week, so..."

"Why, we can get someone out there tomorrow, which gives you Wednesday, Thursday and Friday - sound good to you?" Perry offered.

"Wonderful!" the Gotham billionaire agreed. "Now," he went on, "I was thinking of that fellow - what was his name? - you know, the one who did that piece on Luthor the other day..."

"Clark Kent," the editor chimed, calculating how to shift workloads to clear the reporter's way for this assignment.

"Yes," Wayne grinned to himself as he clinched it, "that's the one - I think his article was quite even-handed, especially given the - oh - infamy of his subject...", unable to resist taking a swipe.

Chuckling deeply, Editor White agreed, "Yessiree, you can practically write anything you want about that one, and it wouldn't be far off the mark!"

Wayne shared in the chuckling, a hard glint to his eyes.

"So," Bruce, all nice again, prompted, "I'll be expecting Mr. Kent tomorrow at, say, one p.m., for luncheon at Wayne Manor?"

"Yes, Sir," the editor confirmed. "He'll be there, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed."

Nearly choking, Bruce composed himself quickly to close with, "I appreciate your working with me on this, Perry."

Hanging-up after their goodbyes, Bruce smiled then laughed at the image of his super-hero friends, all naked, his knees knocked together and slightly-bent - wearing a cute bushy squirrel tail - hands crooked like little paws before him - bright-eyed and eager to please.

He hummed to himself as he set about planning how to win his little squirrel into bed.

"Kent, here," Clark answered his cell phone later that day.

"Oh - ngh - Clark!" came Luthor's low voice right into his ear. "Just hearing you has got me hard."

Hunching-over with his like-response to this news, Clark turned aside and hoarsely whispered, "Lex! You can't do this to me - I'm at work!"

Chuckling, then: "So am I."

"Well," Clark returned, "you can jack-off at your desk anytime you want to!" and, oh, that was soooo, not a good thing to imagine right now.

"Smallville!" Lois, across from him, sang. "Watcha go all red for, huh?" Grinning and leaning forward, she stage-whispered, "Is it 'Little Miss One-Time Thang'?"

Lois smirked evilly at Kent's rapid departure to the building's staircase. Once the heavy door eased closed, Clark addressed his caller with more privacy.

"Lex, you gotta - " he started off.

"I can hear you're someplace quiet, now, Clark," Lex spoke, with soft, honeyed tones. "I'm glad - we can be alone."

"Just forget it, Lex - " Kent attempted.

"Did you know, Clark," Lex intimated, "that I've developed a sudden fondness for wall hangings in my bedroom... so I can pull them aside whenever I want - and look at the *proof * - of how I made you feel..."

"Cut it out!" Kent tried to sound harsh.

"Oh, Clark," Luthor said with feeling, "you sound so good, even when you're upset - did you know that?"

Caught by the compliment, Kent slowed down. "Le-ex, please don't - "

"'Please'!" Luthor quoted, interrupting with a light moan. "Oh, yes, Clark - please say 'please', again - I just want to remember..."

Clark squinted as his knees weakened from the full force of his emotions - summoned-up and slamming into his libido. Weakened, he used his free hand to support himself against the stairwell's glossy wall.

His voice shaking, Clark announced, "Look, Lex... I've been getting hard all day long, over anything at all, and I don't even think I can go out, uh, working tonight, 'cause I can't get control... it's worse than when I was a teenager... so, please don't - "

Luthor jumped on it.

"Ye-e-e-es-s-s-s!" Lex said in a drawn-out moan. "Oh-h, you said 'please'!"

Clark gave a little whimper and laid his forehead against the beige wall in the darkened stairwell.

"Say it once more, Clark," Luthor ordered, low and slow.

"Lex - "

"Say it!"

Swallowing with difficulty for some reason, Clark hung his lips open - eyes closed and head to the wall - and breathed out a hoarse, "... please..."

"Again!"

A small whine, and then, "... please, Lex..."

"Again!," Luthor demanded, with the voice of an admiral.

And, Clark was gone - whisked by his mind to another place and time: leaning onto another wall, with Luthor's relentless clasp from behind. He remembered begging for the release promised by that engine working his ass.

Choking-in harshly, Clark clenched his groin with sweet memories and sobbed an entreating, "pl - EEEEEEE - eeeZ!"

"Oh, yeah... that's it, oh...!" and Luthor let every sound transmit as he brought himself to orgasm back at Luthor Towers.

Given confirmation of his image of Lex beating-off at his desk, by listening to it, Clark gave a choked peep then switched to super-speed to unzip, take care of himself, clean-up with his handkerchief and pack himself away - all faster than the Human eye could follow.

What was left to share was his heavy panting as he moaned, "... Lex... Lex... don't do this to me..."

"Is there a problem," Luthor attacked using logic, "with... feeling good, Clark?"

"No!" Kent replied. "It's just you said it would be a one-time thing, you know? And, I don't think this fits... the 'Never To Be Together Again'-kind of scenario."

"I'm not with you again... I regret to say..."

Clark flushed once more - he was upset to note he'd smiled somewhat, as well.

Luther clarified, "... so, I'm just getting the most mileage I can... from that delicious time we had together..."

"Oh, Lex," Clark said mournfully. "You know we can't get along - not really."

We got along well enough yesterday, wouldn't you say, Clark?"

"Yeah," Clark averred, "for four hours!"

Hm-m-m-m," Lex couldn't resist approving. "Yes, it was - four insanely... sweat-drenchingly... wildly-satisfying hours."

"Y-es," Clark whispered as he wavered on his feet, remembering. It still felt so good, deep inside.

"Hm-m-m-m," Luthor hummed his appreciation of that gentle abdication, then signed-off.

"Remember, Clark," Luthor said lightly. "Since you always want to become more Human: if it feels good... do it."

Then a click, and that was it.

His head still to the wall, Clark let his phone-hand drop, raising his other to swipe his face, wondering, ~~~what am I going to do?~~~

Bruce Wayne sat at his massive carved-mahogany desk, each hand gripping tight its armrest. His ribbed, ivory-colored tennis sweater betrayed only a firmer march of breaths from his chest, so well did he hold-in his reaction.

He'd listened, real-time, for he'd programmed the 'Clark'-filter on Luthor's calls to route to his own earpiece.

He was hard - of course. But, he wasn't going to admixture his Clark fantasies with any part of Luthor in it, so he soon willed it away.

"Fucking poacher," Wayne finally grumbled.

"A Mister Kent, Sir," Alfred Pennyworth said, so very politely, as he stood at attention in black tails. Stately in his pearl-buttoned grey velvet vest, he addressed his Master in the Library.

"Mister Kent!" Bruce Wayne of the Manor rose to extend a warm handshake.

"Thank you, Alfred," he said with a glance to the recipient. He caught the mirth in those grey eyes at the shenanigans The Master was pulling plus the slight frown showing Alfred's mock-disapproval.

~~~yes, I am a very bad boy, Alfred~~~ Wayne thought as he gestured for his guest to take a seat, disregarding even Alfred's joking attempt to view askance his undertaking.

~~~a very hungry, bad boy~~~ Bruce next thought, but he suppressed his gusto to school his face - the better able to quickly scan down and up his caller's form, seeing the muscled virtue he knew lay beneath - all very 'hetero', of course - just a man assessing another man upon first meeting, naturally.

"Hello, Mr. Wayne," Clark smiled generously as he settled into a tan stuffed-leather chair. "I'm pleased to meet you - and I want to thank you for the honor of your requesting me personally for the job - that really added to my name back at the office."

Flummoxed by this young, charming alter-ego of his rather no-nonsense partner-in-crime-fighting alien friend, it took half a beat for Wayne to pick-up his planned script.

"Please," Wayne replied, "call me Bruce."

"Bruce," Clark nodded, "I'm Clark."

Relaxing comfortably into his espresso leather winged-back, Wayne continued, crooking his brow offhandedly as he nonetheless held a sincere gaze, "Yes, well, you know, you did such a good job on that Luthor piece, didn't you? Say, what's it like to interview the Old Boy?"

Clark looked completely normal except for a slight glassiness to his stare off over Wayne's right shoulder.

The reporter nodded some more, swallowed, then said, "Uh, well, it's always a pleasure to work with someone who's articulate - one of the reason's I'm looking forward to our time together."

A little clench of his jaw accompanied his answering grin, but Wayne gave a small nod for Mr. Kent to go on.

Retaining the momentum, Clark pulled out a pocket spiral-bound and flipped it until he found his page.

Bruce observed ~~~completely unnecessary, with his eidetic memory~~~

The Planet reporter began to ask the parameters of their interview process.

"Do you have a list of topics you want me to look at, for material we may wish to explore further?"

Shaking his head and settling into a slightly-bemused smile, Bruce Wayne found he might adore this aspect of his fellow-hero even more than the earnest Superman persona which so beguiled him on the job.

Making a little check-mark with his pencil, Kent then took a moment to push the bridge of his glasses up to their proper place.

~~~oh, he's so cute~~~ Wayne thought, ~~~and he's so stately about it~~~

Seeing his super-pal do his 'I'm Just a Human'-routine was fascinating Bruce.

Clark ran through his questions and actions with the gravity and deliberation of a Kabuki dancer, Bruce thought - then he had to make vanish from his mind the image of the beautiful man before him, wearing a perfect moist flower of red-painted lips, amidst a powdered face of strong angles, framed by long, blunt-cut black hair, pulled-back by combs that showered-down sparkling yellow-gold curtains of tiny stringed-jewels, above flowing robes of bright blue and cardinal.

Just as Wayne began to entertain what those doll's eyes would look like encircled in precisely-drawn thick black, ~~~later!~~~, he commanded himself with an inner snarl.

And so the talk went, with Bruce finding oh, so many times his vivid imagination pushing the limits of his impressive self-control. But, luckily Mr. Kent was so involved with his own spiel that he wasn't - thank god! - extending his super-sense, else Bruce's decidedly homo reactions would, uh, likely queer the deal.

They were soon interrupted by Alfred, at the Library door.

"Luncheon is served, Sir."

"Thank you, Alfred," Bruce arose, and, smiling -

~~~god, smiling a lot - Alfred is going to tease me about it, later, I know~~~

-with a, "This way," Wayne led them to the terrazzo patio which ran the length of the entire main wing and overlooked the manor's acres into the distance, nothing but green lawn and shady woodland.

Taking the only other seat at a small table for two, Clark kept his eyes on the nature before them and said, somewhat misty-voiced, "It's beautiful..."

"You like it?" Wayne coaxed, wanting to hear this wonderful alien being wax poetic.

"Oh, the different greens are so distinct," said Clark, never failing to deliver, "and look at how the tree branches show the breeze. I grew-up on a farm and this is something I don't get to see, so often, since, you know, moving to Metropolis."

As he finished, Kent realized that he was talking about himself to his mogul interviewee, so he swung-around to face his subject and adopted a professional posture while he took-up the Damask table-linen folded so smartly upon his gold-rimmed top plate, which Alfred removed and replaced with a soup bowl, over the dinner plate beneath. Kent spent the time straightening his utensils and he gave his host a quick smile.

Bruce was beside himself with glee. He consumed every moment of this other side of Superman.

Wayne responded warmly, "Well, it will be extra-nice to share it with you for these next few days, then, Clark."

~~~oh!~~~that blinding smile!~~~how can I stand it, with him so near me?~~~ Bruce thought, then again utilized his Eastern training to modulate his physical responses back to at least a smooth approximation of normal.

~~~good enough to pass~~~ he decided as he slowly exhaled, while offering his guest wine from a printed list - the estate reserves.

After a quick read, Clark brightened and looked up, "Actually, I know this wine - " and he pointed to a vintage dry white "- so, could we have it?"

Smiling as he handed back the list, he added, "I mean, at least I'll be able to test if it's as good as I remember."

Bruce casually suggested, "Well, if you like that, then let's bring this one out, as well, and you can tell me which you like better - I'd like your opinion."

The little "O" of Clark's mouth, poised to object to the thought of him being some sort of wine judge, settled into an easy smile.

Elbow on the table, chin upon his palm, Bruce leaned closer, thinking ~~~I'm in love~~~.

They golfed. They dined. They viewed Wayne Enterprises' primary Gotham factory, fascinating Mr. Kent so much that he several times halted asking questions, his eyes going everywhere.

"What's interesting is that you have such a technical knowledge of a business you've really only taken an active control in for the last three months," the annoying Mr. Kent noted, over Lobster Thermador, at the next day's lunch, after viewing the factory.

Neutral smile locked in place, Bruce Wayne responded, "Well, I actually don't 'get' the money side of the business - I've got people for that - but I've always enjoyed gizmos of any sort," he was doing quite well, "and, you know, it's the hobbies one has growing up that become the skills in the adult."

Wayne nearly groaned at this poor ending to an otherwise pretty-good deflection.

~~~sanctimonious, much?~~~ Bruce wanted to hit himself.

Still, this marked the Second Stage of their interactions: 'The Honeymoon Is Over'.

Later that afternoon, over brandy, Wayne conceded, "You've been giving me quite the work-over," at which Kent looked down at his spiral pad with a shy smile.

"How about we take the rest of the day off?"

"Uh-h... Sure," Clark said as he flipped-closed his second notebook of the day and tossed it onto the low table next to his chair.

They played one-on-one at the indoor gym's basketball court. They rock-climbed on (the Bat's) Bruce's towering training wall. They swam.

"Thanks for the trunks, Bruce," Clark had said, exiting the poolside cabana. "That's certainly not something I thought to pack for this trip!"

"I'm glad we had one to suit your tastes," Wayne replied, amused at Kent's choice of fire engine-red and handing him a couple of ink-black, thick terry bath sheets.

~~~oh, dear lord, dear lord~~~ Bruce thought to himself as he drank-in Clark with his discreet peripheral vision, ~~~I will not survive...~~~

As time went on, they laughed and laughed: Clark's, the mirth of easy boyhood; Bruce's, the tight chuckle of one who indulges sparingly.

Eventually, the time arrived for Clark to return to his hotel.

Tonight's parting was marked by an awkward moment when the men exchanged a handshake, each of them feeling closer than that.

Clark gave a crimped little smile and melted backward holding his coat, then turned to the purring cream-colored Bentley next to which Alfred stood, opening the door.

That night, Clark Kent lay in his hotel room and pondered his life of billionaires who were sexy and male.

His fingers tickled along his shaft.

~~~guess this means I'm gay or bi or whatever, and it's not just Lex~~~ Kent lazily decided, ~~~'cause Bruce Wayne is fire, and I mean wow...~~~

The next morning, Bruce lay in his grand, dark four-poster, rumpled in his pale-gold silk pajamas.

~~~Friday~~~ Wayne thought, ~~~final day... unless...~~~

His look resolute, Bruce lowered his hand below his waist.

They danced an exquisite duet that final day. Their social roles betrayed underlying meaning.

The badinage was just as light-hearted as before, but now little things mattered.

Pouring Clark's coffee, Wayne frequently glanced over while preparing it just to his guest's exact personal taste.

~~~I've been watching you closely~~~ came the message. ~~~I know how to take care of you~~~

The sunlight on chestnut strands of hair led Clark to Wayne's intense gaze as he was handed the drink, the pleasant banter between them on hold.

Listening, now, to the near-silence of soughing breezes and a sometime bird-call, Clark delicately accepted the paper-thin porcelain hand-painted cup and saucer, giving a speculative look back to his host.

The focus of those dark eyes - that avid attention - began to challenge his sense of composure so Clark looked away, then down to his drink.

~~~he's being so nice to me...~~~ Clark felt, as he took a small sip. Giving a satisfied sigh while swallowing the delicious warmth, he wondered what to say next.

Raising his eyes, his witty comment on the perfection of the refreshment melted on his tongue.

Bright, brown eyes anchored that aristocratic, chiseled face - paying utter mind to him. Clark felt somewhat flustered since he hadn't yet too many of Clark Kent's social routines worked-out for this level of intimacy... between men.

Almost too much time later, his big green eyes blinked himself back into action.

"Uh - it's good!" and his lips gave an upward quirk.

~~~oh, that was brilliant~~~ he self-castigated.

Veering more off-balance, Kent sought to relax the situation by giving a small, "heh."

With Wayne ignoring that and keeping the focus intent upon him, it was incumbent upon Clark to revive the small talk - which he awkwardly attempted after a small cough.

"Ahem," he began, "well - what do we have planned for today?" He offered a mild, professional smile.

"What do we, indeed?" Bruce answered, low - a cryptic tease. Wayne's lips held an affectionate little crook - with a funny edge.

Was there a faint air about him that displayed... a right of possession?

Kent hurriedly reached for a toast-point, attending distractedly to the marmalading of it with a shake or two of his nervous fingers.

~~~okay~~~ Kent decided - feeling the timbre of Wayne's deep, warm voice still resonating within, ~~~I know he's coming-on to me, now~~~

Painting the picture for his guest more fully, Wayne continued with, "I was rather thinking I could show you around the manor - just a start - it really takes days to go through."

Kent may have hoped that offer granted a return to the interview's status quo, but when he raised his pleased face back up to Wayne's, he recognized the open invitation the mogul implied, with his glittering eyes and his smug grin issuing a dare between them.

With barely a coherent thought with which to entertain himself, Clark felt his body reverberate with a 'Yes!' - and it was decided. No need for words, the super-being knew he was sending Morse Codes of flashes, between his skin paling or flushing, in time to his shallow breathing.

~~~I am desperately attracted to this man~~~ admitted Clark to himself. ~~~I'm not going to fight my body~~~ the alien rationalized while he drew himself together to return to the planet Earth and pick up the conversation before he turned this guy off with just how much of a doofus Clark Kent could really be.

Giving a little doff to his eyebrows, Clark gave a constrained goofball-grin that he really couldn't remember having generated since back in high school.

"Fine!" he piped, quickly followed - in his normal register - by , "Uh, when do we start?"

~~~I hope I'm not reading this wrong~~~ Kent fretted, regarding Wayne a bit closer.

Wayne settled back with a dreadfully pleased look.

~~~I love him all bothered like that~~~ Wayne thought, then looked off to the side and mugged a little, saying, "Oh-h, we-ell... how about after breakfast?" He swung his face back with a faint smirk.

After a blink, Clark looked down at their plates - they'd only just begun eating.

"Oh, yeah," Kent offered a foolish grin at his own confusion, "heh - right."

Wayne chuckled deep and warm.

Kent announced, "I think I'll just shut-up, now," then gave a good-humored smile which paved their return to the easy-going banter of the prior few days.

Mid-afternoon, Wayne inquired, "When is your plane?"

"Oh, um," Kent explained, "I have to be there for the flight at four - it leaves at five."

~~~it really sucks~~~ the reporter added to himself, failing in his attempt at attaining even a mildly-cheerful expression.

They had taken coffee in the Library, which Alfred had just cleared away.

Bruce stood by a tall wood-paned window, looking over the verdant grounds.

"And..." without turning, Wayne followed with, "you checked-out of the Regent, this morning?"

"Um, yeah," came the reply as Kent sat in his arm-chair, "all my stuff's in the Bentley."

Kent didn't really want to be talking about his impending departure - it messed-up the hour or so of pleasant company that could still be had.

~~~jeez, this has been a hell of a week~~~ Kent considered, then resolved ~~~I know who I'm going to be thinking about, when I hit that goddamn airport restroom~~~

Bruce turned his head from the view outside to assess Mr. Kent.

With a hang-dog air, Mr. Kent sat with his elbows on the armrests, looking down through his glasses at his fingers loosely-threaded. He certainly seemed unhappy to be leaving.

"Stay with me tonight," Wayne ventured.

"Uh..." Kent lifted his head, "What?"

~~~oh, shit, this is happening like, three weeks earlier than I imagined~~~ Kent's thoughts spun wildly, his green eyes commensurately panicky, darting about the room then back to his propositioning host.

But, the young alien's lightening-flash of stray concerns - of changing his return flight, coming-up with excuses to cover this from Lois, wondering how long he'd stay, did he have condoms and how in hell could he avoid burning down Wayne Manor with his orgasmic acetylene torch-act - all that vanished from his immediate awareness when Bruce Wayne suddenly adopted a hulking pose: broad shoulders relaxed, arms hung low, his head tilting toward his guest.

Clark's lips dropped open as his attention was fully caught by the predatory panther approaching him - gone, the light-hearted magnate.

With fluid grace pouring his bunched muscles from step to step, Bruce crossed the room to stand directly in from of Clark. Wayne looked down upon him, his dark eyes piercing as he exuded a commanding presence.

Caught a little off-guard, Clark shifted in his seat as Wayne gazed blatantly at what he'd clearly ogled all week long. Bruce's expression taunted Clark to be bold in return.

~~~I know I'm going to burn in hell for being such a slut~~~ Kent warned himself and then discarded the thought - Clark's body was responding quite insistently.

Under Wayne's imperious scrutiny, Clark's breathing gave a jag and his tummy felt strange. Suddenly self-conscious, he cleared his throat and looked away, crossing his legs away from his host to hide his increasing hard-on.

Wayne crouched beside Kent, his thick forearm - bared by his rolled shirt sleeve - resting upon the arm of his guest's chair.

Clark studied the thin dark hairs riding Bruce's tanned muscles, waiting for what Bruce would say - then lifted his green eyes up to him.

Wayne said huskily, eye to eye, "Do you have any idea what pleasure I could bring to that fabulous body?"

A thrill coursing through him, Kent unconsciously clenched his groin, still feeling that good-ache spot within - his time with Lex but a few days before - and he blinked.

Unable to keep himself from it, Clark cast a glance over to his host's crotch. Wayne had his thick log riding down the inner-seam of his camel-colored slacks, him crouching beside Kent's chair.

Looking back up, Clark minutely shook his head when it seemed Wayne waited for his response.

Leaning slowly to nestle close to Clark's ear, Bruce said, "Let me take care of that for you," and he drew back to flick his eyes toward his guest's lap, "and you'll see."

Still shivering from the warm, moist air that whispered promise carried, Kent rapidly checked himself.

Snugged in the crease between hip and thigh, his long dick was hidden, crossed away from Wayne and cloaked by his buttoned suit jacket. His thick lashes batted as he sent a questioning look back to his pursuer.

Leaning-in even closer, Wayne rumbled, "I smell your arousal..."

Kent gave a little moan as he shut his eyes.

"... it's like a thick, spiced honey arising from beneath your clothes..." and Wayne darted-in, close to Kent's neck, and flared his nostrils to sniff strong and deep, with obvious savor.

~~~control~~~control~~~control~~~ Kent chanted within. He tipped his head back against the chair and pointed his squinted-eyes to the ceiling.

This prudent measure on the alien's part happened to allow Bruce full access, who wasted no time with it, brushing the planes of their cheeks together then breathing along Kent's throat.

"Clark," Bruce compelled, "bring it out and show me," and he drew back to watch.

~~~goshgoshgosh~~~ Clark slowly brought his head forward to stare numbly at his crossed knees, his shoulders tense but his body easing loose.

~~~he's so hot~~~I've been wanting this the whole time~~~I can't believe this is happening~~~ Kent's mind spun. He snuggled down in his seat and worked at quieting his breathing.

Lifting his eyes and seeing the older man nod, Clark sent his hands slowly to his middle while he eased his legs uncrossed.

Opening his knees past shoulder-wide, Clark gave a quick self-adjust without thinking.

Raising his creased brow enough to catch Kent's eye, Wayne gave a self-mocking regretful, "...oh...!" - that he'd missed it.

His expression told Clark not to move so fast, regarding all-things groin.

Licking his lips, Kent confessed, "Look, Bruce - I'm real close - I was going to take care of myself in the men's room at the airport..."

But, Clark stopped, at the stricken look upon the billionaire's face that left Clark resolving never to let that particular factoid slip, again - ever.

Wayne descended, leading with his lax lips, latching onto Clark's moping mouth.

Bruce tugged the alien to himself brusquely while their tongues and mouths were busy with discover and Clark was drawn-up bodily from his chair now and again.

Being coarsely manhandled was a turn-on, Clark found, of the insanest order.

He was wilting within.

His entire body offered itself to its captor. Clark found himself rubbing his suited-chest right and left across Wayne's white linen shirt, all the while making small whimpering noises.

~~~ohh~~~the feel of him~~~ Bruce luxuriated, and his relish of the alien became more animalistic.

Clark flipped off the chart and he gasped a reminding, "Bruce...!

With a rumbling in his throat, Wayne pulled back and growled, "Show yourself to me!"

Impatient, he unbuttoned Clark's jacket then yanked out his shirt-tails - he stared appreciatively at the hooded-head peeking just upward of Kent's belted pants waist.

Wayne knelt to dart-in and swipe three broad tongue-strokes - which got Clark swearing - then he rose up and swung a leg around to face Clark, straddling wide Kent's knees.

When he finished unbuttoning Clark's shirt, Bruce swept the halves aside - laying bare that magnificent golden chest - even more broad than his own - then sat, waiting for Kent to expose himself fully.

Still quivering from those rough, hard licks, Kent decided it was best to re-close his eyes right then, before they became a problem - as he expected them to become, quite shortly.

~~~oh, god, don't let me fuck this up~~~ thought Kent with concern, his lashes tight.

And, maybe he felt a little shy in front of this man he'd become friends with, but who still was a stranger when compared to the years he'd known Lex.

Adroitly and by feel, Clark unhooked, unzipped, pulled down, and grabbed himself out, holding on and giving small squeezes, moaning.

~~~sheesh, I'm so hard~~~ he amazed as he panted, abiding in the dark behind his eyelids.

Bruce slid to his knees and Clark squelched a yelp as he felt his hand pried off and his length slurped past Wayne's lips - into motion and warm wetness.

"Oh!" Clark exclaimed then sucked a loud breath. He cried out between short gasps, "Oh! - Oh! - Oh!..."

~~~it's a goddamn~~~washing machine~~~in there!~~~ Kent managed to conceptualize before his hips thrust forward again and again, and he was thrumming down Bruce Wayne's vacuum throat.

Kent landed nerveless and splayed over his chair, Bruce's arms snaking about him firmly once again.

"Oh... god... Bruce..." Clark panted, eyes still shut tight, his body limp to the older man's clutch.

"Never," Wayne demanded, "resort to beating-off in a men's room, ever, ever again, do you understand me?" He leaned back to tuck Clark away with care.

"While I still live," Bruce added sternly, "you find me - clear?"

In the dark behind his closed lids, hiding the slight frown he felt, Clark wondered to himself ~~~does he know something about me?~~~no~~~no, he just means figuratively~~~

Eschewing any conflict with the source of such unearthly pleasure from which he still reverberated, Clark convinced himself further ~~~yeah~~~he's just joking~~~

His reassured smile bloomed slowly and he opened his moss-green eyes into the dark fathoms of the man who hung over him, whose posture was all observance.

~~~this guy really likes to wait for answers~~~ Clark thought to himself with a small curl at the corner of his mouth.

"What's so funny?" Wayne asked, before tugging Kent's pink cloud of a lower-lip between his, then dropping it to let it bounce back to its upper-mate.

A small grin from Clark, then he added, flirty: "You certainly want confirmations, when you issue your orders..." He'd said it through his lashes then looked away with a smile, waiting for the return-play from his partner.

~~~dear lord, Superman is my... saucy wench~~~ an elated Bruce realized and he flooded with emotion. He descended with haste to share - by way of an overwhelming number of small, sweet kisses.

Following-up, Wayne explained, "Anything to bind you to me, Clark."

A bit stunned by Bruce's earnest declarations, Clark began to question how something this new between them could go so deep, so fast.

He opened thoughtful eyes.

Seeing the questions, Bruce spoke-out ardently, "Trust me, Clark - "

Looking away abruptly, Clark remembered Lex saying that - right before he'd sat his ass down on that slick hard cock - that offering of love from his friendly enemy.

He felt a twitch at those still-fresh memories.

"Clark!", Bruce brought him back. "Clark," just a hush, now. "I want you in bed with me."

"Within, the Batman's thoughts were ~~~oh, let me make love to you, Superman!~~~ and he hugged the wonderful alien to himself so hard, against still-possible rebuff.

Clark arched as he squirmed slowly - tighter into that ferocious grasp and Wayne assailed voraciously the corded neck extended below his lips and teeth.

Writhing from such wild attention, Kent twisted his fingers within the strands of Wayne's lank brown hair.

"Yes..." Clark groaned, then, softer, "... yes... yes..." and he lifted his head to meet Bruce's eyes.

"Yes!" he exclaimed, then puffed-out a gasp as he was hefted-up bodily from the chair and borne, draped across Bruce's brawny arms.

~~~I never thought of anyone carrying me away~~~ Clark delighted and he curled into it, nuzzling lightly at Wayne's neck while being hastened to their destination.

In Wayne's delirium -

~~~I have done it!~~~he is mine!~~~

- at successfully sweeping Superman off his feet, Bruce twirled them around and around at the base of the broad staircase, and he, himself, was bound to Kent by the beauteous male alien's rewarding happy smile.

After a kiss with Clark in his arms, Wayne laid his guest upon the crisp, lace-trimmed sheets turned-back upon his mahogany four-poster. His eyes never straying from Kent's, he began to undress himself.

Kent, though still a bit nervous at the suddenness of it all, roved his attentive eyes over Wayne's tanned form with each article removed. As he lay, the young alien drew his fingers idly over the bedclothes' deep span of Irish tatting, mindful of the manor tour that morning, when his host had led them to that very room.

During that earlier excursion, Wayne had lazily pointed-out various interests within his bedroom - architecture, curios, artwork - while their paths always skimmed past the white, lacy elephant with four posts, which Bruce never spared a glance.

So, Clark couldn't keep his eyes from flicking to it.

First off, Wayne was using his strong fingers to deeply massage every one of Clark's dense muscle groups.

~~~Superman always drives himself so tirelessly~~~ the Batman thought as he worked his elbow down the back of Clark's thick calves, ~~~with nobody to do this for him~~~

Laying on his belly to receive his host's adroit attentions, Kent was too relaxed to grunt. Then Wayne began the toe-sucking and the whimpers were pulled from him so begrudgingly.

Wayne gave little tongue-laps from the alien's big toe, up the inner-legs, to kiss noisily at their juncture.

Sitting back, Bruce grabbed Kent's ankles and spread his legs wide - so fast.

Utterly lethargic, Clark felt at Bruce's mercy, being tugged into position, and his groin tingled deliciously from it as he squeezed his ass in anticipation.

"Bruce," Clark said, softly.

"Hm-m-m?"

"Could you, um," Kent asked after some hesitance, "could you knot my tie over my eyes...?"

~~~he'll just think I'm a little kinky~~~ Clark hoped, doing his best to avoid the potential homicidality of his built-in incendiaries.

Knowing full-well the real reason for the caution, Wayne gave loving busses to Clark's face before he silently complied.

Finally Kent could relax, and he gave a pleased little sigh as his ass was perched-up for Wayne' tongue-attack.

"No more.. no more!" Clark cried-out, his fingers twisting and his breath coming in little choked puffs.

Wayne got to his knees and surveyed Kent.

Diminutive whines escaped Clark's slackened lips.

~~~he's feeling so sorry for himself~~~ Bruce grinned darkly, interpreting that music.

Falling bodily upon the large humanoid he'd destroyed, Bruce rapidly snagged-up Clark's leg and bent it at the knee, hooking it into the crook of his thick arm. He lay across Clark's back and pulled the captured limb to their side.

Clark lifted his head blindly and continued the adjustment by rolling on his shoulder. Bruce slid down to examine Clark who was on his side and nearly tasting his kneecap, his other leg stabilizing him, stretched-out, as it was, long, along the rumpled white sheets. Clark's arms were pressed between the bed top and his captive leg.

"Are you ready for me, Kent?" Bruce said with a clipped, serious voice. He crooked-upward Clark's leg a bit, and - voila - now his bottom was opened to Bruce's whims, the first of which was to slather - one-handed - the thick almond-scented massage oil, on and in.

Clark schooled his features beneath his striped silk blindfold.

~~~I'm invulnerable, for fuck's sake...!" Clark chided himself as he nonetheless ever-so-slightly quailed at this final stage before them, and the challenge of wedging Wayne's side of beef into him.

Kent whispered, "Go ahead..."

"I'm just going to start with the tip, Clark," Bruce gentled the being beneath him and, with guiding hand, he took care to prod only some of his pointed roundness in and out. This was somewhat like Bruce's thick tongue, and Clark settled back.

"Hm-m-m-m" Kent hummed, relaxing into his pretzel pose. Soon, Bruce progressed.

"Here's the ridge, Clark," Bruce whispered to him, and he jutted his hip forward with a sure snap, and, with a sharp gasp from them both, he was committed to the deed - locked within.

Bruce leaned over his panting partner and their lips grazed as they inhaled each other's hot moist breaths.

"Press down," Wayne instructed, and Clark remembered when Lex had said that, and he swallowed a gulp as he opened-up below.

Drizzling a thin lube, now, over them both, Bruce held his base and inclined, beginning his inexorable push.

Several times he eased nearly out, responding to Clark's protestations it wouldn't work, only for the younger man to find it that much easier upon re-entry.

"Patience, Clark," Wayne had counseled and when he reached about half-way, he drew back and out - "Oh!" Kent had gasped, who was then rolled over onto his stomach, and re-entered before he had time to think.

Arching his back, Clark groaned and reached his hands out, dragging along the bed-top, clenched, tight and empty.

"Bruce!" Clark cried out, when his rider was fully within.

He'd been utterly speared and he held his limbs in their splayed position for he was wholly disinclined to stir any muscle whatsoever.

Wayne, poised upon knees and hands, remained deep within and made short strokes - poking, poking. His brawny trunk rippled and his broad, apple ass and thick legs worked his partner beneath him, pressing, pressing that spot just enough to make it so sweet.

Fearing the tie blindfolding him to be, now, laughably inadequate, Kent tilted his face against the mattress, his eyes closed, pushed tight by the pressure, his hands busy spasming at his sides.

Brucereveled, slowing down at times tosavor how they looked together, theirlegs aligned side-by-side - burnished and masculine between smooth and honeyed.

Except for his rapid breathing, Clark remained very still until the end, when he suddenly ran his ass through figure-eight rotations, rubbing himself against the sheets. His cock spurted forth with his deep groan and his hot clenches milked Bruce's balls.

~~~invulnerability~~~ Clark sighed to himself later that night ~~~is such a... wonderful thing...~~~

Kneeling together upon the wide bed, he sat in Bruce's lap, back to him, blindfolded once more, his pecs displayed temptingly by his lax arms held up, around Wayne's neck - his hole stretched taut as he rode Wayne's wide staff.

Bruce nuzzled as they rocked between murmurs and he played the harp of Clark's ribs.

Wayne got more delicious ass-dancing when he twisted Clark's nipples - thick and ruddy from tiny torment - and he savored the resultant low moan.

Sliding his hands to pull those golden thighs against him with a jerk, Wayne got even further inside than Clark could imagine, whose slow flail dragged that fat head right over and over...

"Unh... unh..." began Kent's peaking break, and Wayne held Clark's ass down hard, nudge-nudge-nudging square-on within him.

At Kent's lilting cries, Wayne quickly grabbed Clark's upper-arms and pressed them into place against himself.

With Kent thus grappled to him, Bruce lifted his hips and began to ram - tossing the kneeling-Clark helpless about his lap.

"OH FUCK fuh-fuh-fu-FUCK...!" Kent yelled. Sucking-in a gulp of air, he turned his head sharp to slap one arm over his covered-eyes then wrenched the other from Bruce's grasp to seize himself fiercely - and shot so hot and hard.

Watching that stiff rod before him jerk and surge - seeing Clark pull forth those fountain pulses - Bruce gave a little grunt, thrust and held, and quaked resoundingly within Clark's ass.

"You're so beautiful..." Wayne whispered.

Bruce was repeating himself. He couldn't stop it. When he tried to reason with his impetuous tongue that he'd said it enough, Kent would turn loose upon him the feather-touch of those plump lips - his supple neck arching like a ballet dancer - and Wayne could think of nothing else.

"The most.. gorgeous being.." Bruce uttered, almost to himself, "in this world..."

Behind his closed eyes, Clark wondered at that wording.

The morning after...

Lex Luthor was livid.

"It's Saturday, Clark still hasn't hit the radar, and I know he's under the covers with that sonavabitch Bruce," Lex fumed.

His attempts at surveillance of Wayne Villa were a legendary string of failures.

"That man lives in a black hole," Luthor muttered as he splashed some more Scotch. "Literally."

~~~he's probably going to re-open his Metropolis pied-a-terre for more quality Clark-Time~~~ he grit to himself as he stared out sourly at his sun-drenched city.

"Let me take you back in my jet - I can show you my Metropolis penthouse before you return to your place," Wayne offered, while he and Clark lay abed at Noon.

"Hm-m-m..." was all Clark was given to say, lately. Like, for hours.

With his arm curled around a dozing-Clark's shoulders, Wayne strategized.

~~~I know Luthor will interfere as soon as he can~~~ he faced to himself, ~~~so, I have to come clean...~~~

Clark stretched and gave a little moan then opened his lovely eyes to look up at Bruce.

~~~...tomorrow...~~~ Wayne postponed and he grabbed-up his smiling young alien.

"It's just kinda funny, when you don't really know me so well, you know?" Kent was saying to Bruce, the next morning, Sunday, still abed.

The whirlwind of it all had ebbed, and a clear-eyed Clark was questioning Wayne's fervent declarations.

Bruce was a long time staring at his wondrous bedmate.

"Promise that you'll hear me out - that you won't run off?"

Concern in his eyes, Clark sat up, "What?"

Bruce arose and donned a robe, handing one over to Clark, as well, and said, "Come with me."

He led his lover by the hand, to the piano with the special keys.

They trod together down damp, chill steps, wonder in Clark's eyes as they descended to the Bat Cave.

"I don't understand..." Kent tried to laugh it off - surely this wasn't what it appeared.

Standing straight and stolid, Wayne announced himself, growling dark and gruff, as the Bat: "I'm your lover..."

With tremendous hurt mixed with rage, Clark turned on Bruce and pushed him backwards a ways.

His arms flying out, Bruce caught his momentum and righted himself.

Clark advanced in a blink and batted him to one side.

"Clark!" Bruce yelled out. He found his feet then got into a lower stance.

"What's the matter, Mr. Wayne?" Kent cried out, humiliation in his teared-up eyes. "You don't like getting toyed-with, back at you?"

Speeding forward, Clark passed the mortal back and forth between his hands then tossed him roughly aside.

Wayne rolled, then stood at bay, head low, and he shouted fiercely.

"Wayne and Kent are who we really are, Clark!"

"You don't even call me by that name," Clark hissed, "Batman! I'm Superman to you, and that's it!"

"How can it not be real," Wayne demanded, "when it's who we really are?"

"And, who are you?" Kent countered. "The other devious billionaire in my life?"

"This is me!" Bruce boomed, standing tall, "Batman - Wayne - I don't care - but, I love you!"

Reaching up to pinch-away the blurry wetness of his eyes, Clark lifted his head and choked-out, "And, I thought I loved you..."

Then he was gone.

"Kent, here," was the curt opening to the call.

"Well, how are we," came a low voice, melting into Clark's ear, "after our little lover's getaway to Guano Grotto?"

"Fuck off, Lex," Kent spat. "I already know!" and he turned-off his phone.

Bruce Wayne was grim, but The Bat was relentless. When his ferocity had cleared the streets, he brooded in his dark cavern, reliving his days spent with Clark.

Superman stood stiffly in his frozen Fortress of Solitude. He'd been going on about it all to the AI for a long time. He'd worked through the angry part and was stuck in morose, now.

"So," he bitterly exclaimed, "I know, now, why I always have fortresses of solitude..."

He ran on, "It's 'cause I'm never going to be happy with anyone... 'cause I just can't trust anybody..."

Finally, the AI spoke aloud.

What is it that you found untrustworthy of your comrade-in-arms, Batman?" came the echoing voice of Jor-El.

Boggling a bit first, "I told you!", Superman yelled out. "He didn't respect my limit-setting - that we shouldn't have a relationship!"

"Is not 'desperation' a proven downfall of Human Beings' intentions, when they have strong emotions involved?"

"I don't care!" Superman argued with vehemence. "If he was desperate, too bad! - he shouldn't have done what he did!"

After a pause, the AI requested, "Could you remind me of your own actions, the day that Lana Lang was to be married with Lex Luthor?"

"What?", Superman frowned. "What does that...?"

The stern, cultured voice rang over his, "You relayed that you had approached her as being her own best love, and you begged her to abandon her plighted-troth with Lex Luthor."

Seeing where this was headed, Superman asserted loudly, "That has nothing to do with this!"

Distressed and saddened - reminded of the person Lana had become - Superman said in anguish, "She belonged to me, and he was bad for her - and I was right!"

The AI added, "And you convinced her to elope with you, even though at the time you both believed she was carrying Lex Luthor's child."

Casting about for excuses, Superman stumbled-out, "That was... that was..."

"That was an inexcusable boundary to pass," the AI offered, "within Earth customs, as well as those of Krypton, wouldn't you acknowledge, Kal-El?"

"No..." although Superman's confusion muted his bluster. "No, I knew it was wrong, but - "

"Similar to when," the AI intoned relentlessly, "your mother Lara and I disobeyed our own Ruling Council - of which I was Senior Member - to send our little Kal-El off-planet, and thus save him from the impending destruction of which they were in denial."

Blinking, Superman asked incredulously, "You're on Batman's side in this?" He spun around and stalked a distance to sulk.

Jor-El's voice echoed about him.

"I only remind you of instances where the emotionality of love has driven normally-honest persons... to morally-questionable acts."

Peevish, Superman snapped at the AI, "You're saying it was questionable to save me?"

"After the Ruling Council forbad off-planet travel, with the intention of avoiding a world-wide panic," the AI explained, "yes - it was a treasonable act, and would have had ruinous consequences for the House of El, should I not have been correct."

"Well..." Superman trailed-off.

"Had Krypton remained, safe," the AI pressed, unrelenting, "I would have been banished from the Council, at minimum, and most likely brought-up on capital charges of endangering the welfare of our society at-large."

"But..." Superman interjected, "you were right!"

"We broke the direct order of our planet's ruling body," the AI stated, "but, we did it knowingly - and out of love for you, Kal-El."

Stunned, Superman at last was silent.

After a moment, the AI concluded, "Love is an emotion that overrules a purely rational approach to a problem, at time, My Son."

"It is unfortunate your Earth-upbringing instilled in you your admirable desire for honesty and justice," the AI added, stingingly, "but failed to provide how to navigate 'the grey area', between."

"Had you completed your Kryptonian training at the proper time - " Jor-El began to drone.

With that, Superman was gone.

Sitting upon Chloe Sullivan's tangerine couch in her gaily-colored Metropolis apartment, Clark Kent spread his hands in the air as he concluded his tale of woe.

"I know I shouldn't have told you Batman's identity without his permission, Chloe," Clark confessed, "but, you wouldn't have understood, otherwise."

"That's kind of a biggie, Clark," Chloe warned. She gave a quick flick of her hand to pull a straggling blonde strand behind her ear. "I mean, he doesn't even know me!"

"But, I had to, Chloe!" he plead his case in misery. "I just have to talk about these two guys - with someone who knows me - or I'll go crazy!"

"Wow," she exclaimed, her aqua-eyes squinting as she frowned, "it's really feast or famine with you, isn't it?"

"Lex doesn't count," Kent assured, "because he's always had his eye on me, and he simply had his hand forced."

"But, you said you'd realized you'd loved each other!", Chloe clarified. She added, under her breath, "... and, now, half the Talon regulars can finally collect on their bets..."

Clark colored then retorted, "So?", with a disapproving glower. "He totally manipulated me into finding it out!"

Thoughtful, Chloe nodded her head and looked off.

Impatient, he pressed, "Do you see?"

She mugged a 'whatever'-look, and Clark drove on.

"Well, what about what the Batman did, when he completely bullshitted me about who he was, when he was coming-on so strong as Bruce Wayne?"

"But, didn't you say you really like Bruce," the blonde asked, her brows pinched together, "and you were thinking you might even love him?"

"It doesn't matter anymore!" Kent asserted in exasperation. "It was all based on lies!"

Chloe took a moment to think, as much as to let Clark calm down a bit.

"Well, isn't that sort of like," she finally asked, "when you said Lois was all-hot for Superman, but you told me, if you liked her back, then you'd go to her as Clark Kent, and try to win her as yourself?"

Aghast, Clark whined, "What is it, with everyone? Doesn't anybody understand my problem with this, at all?"

"Kettle - pot, Clark," she admonished pointedly. "I mean, I'm sure Mr. Wayne would be a little put-out if he discovered that I knew his secret - maybe going to you was something Bruce had to do, or he 'would go crazy'."

"I don't have anybody but you, Chloe," Clark responded with pouting hurt. He rationalized, adding, "Besides, I bet he told Alfred who I was."

"You're getting onto a slippery slope, here, Clark," Chloe warned. "There's all sorts of things people do - " but she was cut off.

"Well, I definitely would not approach Lois as Clark," he announced, responding to the dare of Chloe's analogy, "if she'd told Superman they shouldn't get together, like I told Batman!"

Chloe's brows quirked and she gave a slow smile, "You don't think so?"

"No!" Clark vociferated self-righteously, a stiff neck holding his head high, reminiscent of his stubborn farmer father.

"C'mon, Clark," Chloe said with a bit of a grin. She prodded her finger against the arm of his red jacket and laughed, "You'd stay away from Lois - as Clark - just because she decided she couldn't be with Superman?"

"I'd... well..." Kent slowed to a stop.

"I mean: you love her, okay," Chloe summarized, "and she's put some boundary up between herself and your adopted alter ego..." Her arching eyebrows told the answer.

Clark sat and stared.

"Besides," Chloe made it worse by repeating what Wayne had said, "'Clark' and 'Bruce' are the real 'you guys', right?"

After a minute, a subdued Kent stated quietly, "Um... thanks, Chloe."

Her eyes a-crinkle under a blonde fringe, she grinned wide and tackled him, "Oh, you big, lovable doofus!"

He returned her embrace, his thoughts keeping him mum.

Hunched upon a gargoyled cornice atop a Gotham skyscraper, the Bat scowled grimly at the visitor suddenly aloft before him.

"Superman," he grumbled pointedly, using the only name 'permitted' him.

"Uh," the alien began, "could we talk somewhere?"

Casting his cowled-face right and left, the Bat growled, "It seems we're alone, right here."

~~~yeah~~~ Superman thought, ~~~we're alone~~~

After a few seconds, Superman admitted, "I was wrong."

He looked upward to see black, glittering eyes trained upon him.

Superman added, "I'm sorry."

Un-crouching, the Batman secured himself with a careless hand upon stone and slowly stood to full height.

Intent upon him, Superman anxiously followed the stern masked visage.

The Batman asked darkly, "Does this mean I get my dick sucked?"

Beaming a delighted smile, Superman darted-up to wrap his arms around him. Kissing the man with puppyish abandon, Superman answered, "Indubitably!"

"Not here!" Batman pushed him away, griping, "Jeezuz, don't you have any sense?"

Floating before him, hands off, Superman agreed, "No - no, not a bit," and he grinned as he grappled his balking fellow-hero into his arms then swept off to Wayne Manor in a blink.

Superman chuckled as he dropped Batman onto Bruce Wayne's big bed, where he bounced a few inches above the white lace then his black cape spread out like leathery wings. He was set-upon by the costumed alien, whose own emblemed scarlet mantle blanketed them both gently as it floated downward upon the duo.

"I take it," Batman said, after some affectionate grinding and much nuzzling from his love, "Superman and Batman are on more-than-speaking terms, now?"

"Oh, yes," the super-being agreed as he tenderly held that black-cowled face between his large hands. "I especially like the 'speaking in tongues'," and he ducked below the mask to offer his gentle lips to his dark hero.

- finis -

Copyright, story, not characters, by Rose etta, Dec 3, 2007


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{Author's Note: I don't capitalize Holy words when they're being used as swear words.}