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J’onn J’onzz was not what the humans would call superstitious; his Martian beliefs tended more to natural cycles than magic. But he had noticed that the humans involved in the Justice League all seemed to avoid the same thing. He wasn’t sure if it was thinking it or speaking it out loud that affected the outcome, but that could have varied with the individual. Supposedly, noticing it was a quiet shift on monitor duty would cause an influx of emergencies that almost overwhelmed the system.
He had been interested in how all the heroes believed this without proof, but tonight was the first time he had experience this phenomenon. It was a Thursday night, so most Leaguers were pursuing their own interests or cities. He had been on duty for an hour without a single thing that needed his attention. He had thought it was a quiet night and less than a minute later an unusual call had come in.
Kal-el was returning two days early from a diplomatic function on a nearby planet and had sent a text only message. He asked for J’onn to clear the halls from docking to medical, and clear medical itself. Then he asked that only J’onn meet with him in medical. Many tests later and Kal had speed away and locked his quarters.
Now in his final hour of this shift, J’onn was considering tempting fate again, just to see what happened. He wasn’t bored, just curious, so he decided to see if he could replicate the results. He thought to himself, how quiet the night was. Five minutes later, when he was just about to declare the experiment a failure, the phone rang. This was unusual, as most Leaguers used the video link-up system. J’onn had to hunt for the button labeled speakerphone.
“Hello?”
“Lucius! This is Brucie, uh Bruce Wayne.” This was unexpected and J’onn would admit to confusion. Batman calling here as Bruce? It had to be an emergency for that man to ask for help in any form, but he didn’t sound panicked. He actually sounded happy, which impressed a sense of urgency on J’onn.
“Hello, Bruce. How can I help you?” J’onn had no idea who Lucius was or what Lucius’s voice sounded like, so hopefully the noise of the party was enough to confuse anyone who might be listening in.
“Hey, I’m at this rooftop party, um, hold on. Where are we?” This last was directed away from the phone, but J’onn had excellent hearing.
“Wayne Tower.” A new voice growled out this information, probably through clenched teeth. J’onn could hear the man clear enough but doubted the recording equipment would be able to distinguish the voice from the background music.
“Really? Well anyway Lucius, the maintenance men here at Wayne Tower, apparently, say the elevator is broken.”
“Not broken, you idiot, disabled!” A second growling voice, more verbal with his frustrations at Bruce’s empty headed playboy routine. “We’re not maintenance men!”
“Oh, why didn’t you say so! Lucius, these guys at the party in really bad suits are not maintenance men, though I do know them from another life. They say the elevators are disabled. Kind of makes it sound like they were broken on purpose.” J’onn caught Bruce’s code. If he knew them from his other life, that meant they had criminal records and files about them in Batman’s computer.
“Focus Wayne! Tell Fox that we have rigged the building.” Thug one was apparently in charge, unless Bruce had driven the planned leader so insane that thug one had inherited the job of talking Bruce through a phone call.
“Rigged it for what?”
“Just. Repeat. WhatISaid.”
“Lucius, the building is rigged for something, but they won’t tell me what.” J’onn was really uncomfortable with the pout in Bruce’s voice.
“We want money or we will kill people, Wayne.” J’onn could hear thug one slapping his own forehead.
“Killing people for money doesn’t sound like a good business plan, so I’d get a consultant. Did you hear that Lucius?” J’onn wondered if consultant was code for any particular leaguer.
“I am familiar with the concept of ransom, Bruce. How many consultants do you want?” J’onn attempted to keep the conversation coded, just in case somebody else was listening.
“I don’t know, whatever is handy I guess. Lucius wants to know how much you want to fix the elevators.” Bruce needed help to protect the hostages and his secret identity, but didn’t think these thugs were ready to kill. If he had feared immediate danger he would have just taken care of the problem and worried about his secrets later.
“O my God!” Thug two exploded over the thumping music. “Tell ‘em for 10g’s we’ll do the world a favor and kill this idiot.”
“Can you say one hundred million, Wayne?” Thug one was trying for condescending but sounded like he really doubted Bruce could say such long words.
“Wow, that’s like a million for every person at this party. I don’t think I have that much money, unless I sold some of my cars. I’d have to ask Lucius next time I talk to him.” J’onn considered it, deciding that holding a hundred people hostage would require more than a disabled elevator and two guys. Bruce was calling because he needed intelligence that he couldn’t get while being a captive.
“Fox is on the phone now. Talk to him now. Tell him he has until 10 A.M. to get us the money.” Thug one’s control was hanging on by a thread, and Bruce liked sharp things.
“Whom should he make the check out to?” A best as J’onn could determine from the resulting sounds, thug two was holding thug one back from killing Bruce, whispering about the money. Someone finally ripped the phone from Bruce, so J’onn flipped on the voice recording and analyzing protocols.
“We have explosives and people all over the building. Nobody can get to us on the roof. Give us one hundred million by 10 A.M. or we will kill these party guests. Cash only. Call the cops and you start a panic that will result in deaths. When you get the money, call Wayne’s cell.” Thug two disconnected but J’onn had a good recording of his voice to run through the software.
J’onn started that program and pulled up a list of who was on call. Before he could contact anyone, he got an idea. He froze as he thought about it for a solid minute. He couldn’t decide if it was a wicked idea or a really good idea, but either way it might provide a catalyst. Before he could talk himself out of it, he turned intangible and sank into Diana’s quarters.
When he shape shifted he could form clothes so he never paid much attention to them beyond fashionable designs to copy in order to blend in better. Looking through Diana’s wardrobe, he had to make his best guess as to what would be appropriate for a Bruce Wayne hosted rooftop party. A minute later and he was asking for admittance to Kal-el’s chambers. The door eventually opened and J’onn entered quickly, before he could change his mind.
“Kal-el, I know you are not comfortable with you current predicament, but a situation has arisen that I feel you are best suited to handle.”
Kal groaned from the bed before speaking. “Can’t anybody else do it? Is the whole league too busy?”
If J’onn had planned this conversation he would have foreseen those questions and had an answer ready. Now he just had to adlib without lying. “Others could handle it, yes. But as Batman guards his identity so closely, I thought he would appreciate your assistance most.”
That got Kal to sit up, awake, efficient and no longer concerned with personal problems. “Bruce needs help?”
J’onn gave a dignified nod. “Bruce Wayne’s party is being held for ransom, and he cannot defuse the situation without raising suspicions.”
Kal thought about it and came to the same conclusions J’onn had. If Bruce was more concerned with protecting his identity than protecting people, there was time for other solutions to be found. “You know his identity, so why don’t you go and I’ll work the monitor.”
“If I remain here, I can establish contact between you and any other help that becomes available. I am also running programs to find data about one of the individuals involved, which I would have to explain to you before letting you do it. There is also the possibility that I might have to access the Batcave computers, an area where my skills exceed your own.” Before Kal replied, J’onn had time to think he wouldn’t have needed so many excuses if any one of them would have withstood careful consideration.
“Fine, I’ll go. But both you and Bruce owe me.” Kal stood and reached for the red cape at the foot of the bed.
“I brought you a disguise, so that you could communicate with Bruce before enacting a plan.” J’onn held out the garment in his hands. “Besides, being seen in your uniform would raise questions I suspect you do not want the world to know the answers to.”
Kal started muttering in Kryptonian, even as a flush of red covered those recently enhanced cheekbones. Hips swayed as he moved forward and took the proffered dress and shoes. The nose was smaller but he still had those pouty, kissable lips. The haircut looked a little masculine but the curls Superman had to brush away softened the look.
J’onn discreetly turned away as Kal tried to figure out how to get into the dress. This was apparently harder than it looked, as it was several minutes before that feminine voice called out. “Are you sure I look acceptable enough to go to a party?”
J’onn turned and allowed appreciation to telepathically reach Kal. The floor length, backless evening gown was a little loose across Kal’s breasts but seemed to fit everywhere else. “You will be taken for a beautiful, human woman. I will go and check the progress of the identification software. You should get to Wayne Tower soon, because even without telepathy, I can assure you Bruce is not happy.”
That got a reluctant laugh out of Kal as he exited the room behind him and headed for the teleportation room. J’onn returned to the monitor station and found the computer had not found a match to the voice yet. J’onn tried to speed things up, but most of his concentration was on what was happening at the party. In chemistry, all catalytic reactions had to be monitored.
sBSbBs
X-raying the building showed people with explosives, carrying radios and patrolling overlapping areas. Considering they had Bruce Wayne hostage, along with about a hundred of his richest friends, they were expecting a big payday and could afford for all these people to be properly equipped. Even at top speed, Clark might not be able to disable them all before a missed communication alerted the rest to his presence. It only took one person trigger happy on a detonator and this situation could get complicated quick. That assumed each person held the trigger to their own explosives instead of somebody else’s. Clark sighed before finding a good place to land on the roof.
Behind the audio equipment set up for this party was a tiny spot where he might not be seen. Everywhere else was ridiculously crowded. Judging by the levels of intoxication, none of the quests had to worry about going to work in the morning. Clark landed with a wobble and sighed heavily. Floating an inch of the ground kept the stupid shoes from being so uncomfortable he just threw them into the sun. Forcing a smile, he merged with the crowd and headed for Bruce.
He was skirting around the dance floor when a heavy hand reached out and slapped his butt. Clark jumped and turned, but managed not to burn the offending hand with heat vision. The handsome young man who had done the slapping, looked extremely confused at Clark’s angry response. Clark turned away and headed for Bruce, again, but much more carefully to avoid further unwanted attention.
Bruce had found a plush, neon yellow loveseat to sprawl across, while two guys in cheap suits sat on opposite arms. They were ignoring Bruce as best they could while guarding him. To the uninformed, they might have looked like bodyguards watching Bruce contemplate his glass in a drunken stupor. The only explanation for why Bruce was without his usual crowd of sycophants was that they distrusted guys in cheap suits.
Clark needed to get Bruce’s attention and get him away from the hostage takers. But how could to do that without explaining everything in clear detail right under the noses of the bad guys? The easiest way would have been to make the telepath come down and do this, but it was too late for that. Sure, being a girl for a while made it easier to walk into a party without people noticing he was Superman, but Bruce didn’t know who he was either.
Couldn’t talk honestly and was completely unrecognizable; Clark thought about this situation for a solid minute before an answer came. It was such a strange notion that the answer could have been a telepathic suggestion from J’onn. A second chance at a first impression, or something a lot like it. What would life be like if Batman hadn’t hated him from the start?
Very few people disliked Clark and everybody loved Superman, but Batman had considered both to be incompetent fools. The only reason that first encounter hadn’t come to blows was because there had been criminals handy to beat on. Somehow, they had managed to develop a working relationship until Clark considered Bruce to be his closest friend. It had taken a lot of years to get to this point, and Clark still had no idea what Bruce thought of their relationship. Were they really friends or just people who worked together? Well, this was a chance to show Bruce that they would have gotten along if Batman hadn’t gotten in the way.
Clark closed in on Bruce with a happy grin. “Hello, would you care to dance with me?”
Bruce looked up and frowned a little at what he saw. Clark momentarily hoped Bruce would figure it out, that it would be just that easy but something grabbed Bruce’s attention. His eyes shifted and narrowed, so Clark followed his gaze while running a hand over his hair. Then he wasn’t looking at the Bat-symbol now illuminating the night sky; he was just being vain. Well, Gordon was going to be disappointed tonight but not Clark.
“How about it, Brucie?”
“Of course! I couldn’t possibly resist a gorgeous thing like you.” Brucie was back in place, smiling and sincere in his appreciation of beauty. He got to his feet as a large hand landed on his shoulder. He turned and grinned at the thugs. “You two can dance together, nobody here will care.”
The hand squeezed into Bruce’s shoulder, like the owner of the hand was considering snapping Bruce’s neck. Finally he ground out a few words. “Just dance here.”
They didn’t want people to know what was going on, didn’t want a panic or a phone call to the authorities. Preventing Bruce from hanging out with his friends would also be suspicious. Besides, while he danced they could watch him without having to listen to him talk, which was probably the thought that caused the thug to let him dance.
Bruce put a hand on Clark’s waist and moved into the rhythm. Clark was surprised, and felt like an idiot for being surprised. With all the physical things Batman could do, of course Bruce could dance! Clark felt awkward in his new, female body while trying to match the movements Bruce made. The thumping club music seemed designed to drive out thoughts, so Clark had to let himself go in order to dance to it.
Just about the time Clark decided he was having fun, he risked a glance at Bruce’s eyes. He was thinking, and Clark would have bet he was thinking about taking down his bodyguards. The song was ending and Clark needed to keep Bruce from trying anything before he knew about the guys downstairs.
“One more dance?” Clark was trying for seductive but didn’t think it quite got there. So he reached out and ran two fingers across Bruce’s lower face, the only part the Batsuit left exposed. There was an spark under his fingers that sent tingles straight to his groin, sharp shooting desire instead of the start of an erection that he was used to labeling as desire.
Bruce must have felt it too, because he was focused on Clark, sharp and surprised.
Clark tried to figure out what had just happened as the music changed. Base still thumped in the background but it was a slower song they moved to now. Clark had touched Bruce before but never had that kind of reaction. Admittedly, he had never tried to seduce Bruce before but surely that would have happened whenever they touched. Except, most of the time Bruce was covered by armor or business suits unless he was injured. A woman’s voice started singing and Clark was amused by the appropriateness of the lyrics.
Electricity, eye to eye
Hey don't I know you
I can't speak
Clark could still feel the electric tingle from where they touched and Bruce was looking him in the eye. He couldn’t speak about it, but he did know this woman. Bruce reached up to place a hand without a gauntlet on a bare arm, and got another jolt of electricity for his trouble. Clark felt it and his whole world focused down to Bruce and that song.
Stripped my senses
On the spot
I've never been defenseless
I can't even make sense of this
You speak and I don't hear a word
On the spot, defenseless and confused seemed to sum up what Clark was feeling. Simple skin contact with a friend shouldn’t block the whole world out or make knees weak. He could only hope this song didn’t tell him what to do in this confusing situation as the chorus kicked in.
What would happen if we kissed
Oh, damn. Thought Clark.
Would your tongue slip past my lips
Would you run away, would you stay
Or would I melt into you
Mouth to mouth, lust to lust
Spontaneously combust
They were both leaning, and then they were kissing. Once they adjusted to the electricity of touching lips, Bruce did slip his tongue in. Melting, spontaneously combusting and Clark recognized that fire in his groin as lust. What would Bruce do if he knew who he was kissing, would he stay?
Plastered to Bruce, Clark could feel Bruce’s more noticeable lust. He was stiffening under the entwining of their bodies, and Clark realized he would have been fully hard by now if this had happened yesterday. Which, he finally understood, meant Clark wanted Bruce, even though they were both (usually) straight men.
Forbidden fruit
Clark thought his mind had said that for a millisecond before realizing it was that damn song again. They worked together and that made dating a bad idea.
Ring on my finger
You're such a moral, moral man
You throw it away, no question
Clark wasn’t married, but he and Lois were joined at the hip. He had even entertained the idea of them getting married someday, so this really should feel like cheating on her. But it didn’t, it felt right. Clark considered himself a moral man but he was ready to throw it all away just to be with Bruce this once.
Will I pretend I'm innocent
No. Clark was doing enough pretending tonight. And since this night was going to change things between him and Bruce, he was taking all she could get. That chorus was back and they hadn’t even broken off the kiss from the last chorus. Clark knew the layout of the decorated roof and he started leading Bruce to a drape in the walls of fabric that would hide them from sight. It wasn’t thinking that made the decision to hide them; it was an innate sense of modesty. They were tantalizingly close when somebody tried to separate them.
Clark growled and tightened his grip on Bruce. There was no electricity where a large hand closed on his upper arm, proving it was just Bruce who did this to him. Clark turned to tell the thug to back off and remembered just what was going on here. A glance at Bruce showed he was taking the return to reality hard too, but he seemed to recover quicker.
“Relax man, we were just gonna have a little fun!”
“Wayne, you have to stay where I can see you.” The slow, simple words showed this guy hadn’t enjoyed his encounter with Brucie. “Go back to the couch.”
“What couch?” Classic, clueless Brucie.
The thug was grinding his teeth as he pointed. Brucie rolled his eyes and said, as if it was the most important distinction in the world. “That’s not a couch, it’s a loveseat.”
Clark giggled as Bruce took his hand and lead him to the loveseat. He decided right then, that if Bruce ever said anything about that giggle, Clark would claim he was just playing the part of one of his airhead girlfriends. Bruce pulled Clark into his lap as he settled onto the loveseat.
“So, beautiful, you have me at a disadvantage.”
Clark was so amazed to hear Bruce say that it took him a moment to realize what he was saying. He wasn’t saying Clark was winning, he was saying Clark had his name but he didn’t have his. A second answer to his original predicament came to his mind, one so simple it made him blush. He had been so busy thinking about making contact with Bruce, he hadn’t thought about reaching Batman.
“Kalella.”
Bruce frowned before deciding he must have heard wrong. “Calais, like the city in France?”
“No, B-man. Kal-el-la.”
Bruce stared into his face for a long moment before throwing back his head and laughing. Clark was too fascinated to be offended or embarrassed. He had never heard Bruce laugh like this, openly and honestly. Brucie’s laugh was fake and people emptied their bowels when Batman made laughing type noises. He only tried to calm down when the thug grabbed his shoulder. A glance around showed people were staring, they had never heard Brucie laugh like that either. Bruce wiped his eyes before daring to look at Clark.
“Kalella, how you have changed since last we met! Did you always have that curl in your hair?”
“J.J. said you would like the changes, when he sent me here.” J’onn sent me to help you.
“Are you up for an all night party?” Are you at full strength?
“Maybe, today took a lot out of me.” Not quite, changing my sex took some of my energy.
“Did you come with anybody?” Any backup, since you’re not at full strength?
“No, everybody seemed to have plans. But I could call J.J. at the penthouse if you want me to.” Everybody else is busy and J’onn is in the Watchtower.
“The elevator is broken, so nobody else can join us.” What did you observe about the hostage situation?
Clark had to think about how to answer that one for a long moment.
“We could take the stairs. I know it’s a long way, but if we stationed the waiters around and had them patrol for tired people. They could carry highly explosive drinks to give people energy to get all the way to the bottom. We would have to use phones to stay in contact, though.” They are stationed around the building, patrolling and carrying explosives while communicating.
Bruce seemed to understand, as his eyes got that ‘planning mode initiated’ look. Clark knew it was best to let him think but didn’t want the thugs to notice the stalled conversation. So Clark moved to drape his body across Bruce so his mouth was to his ear, and encountered hardness in Bruce’s lap. Bruce knew who was in his lap and hadn’t lost his arousal! That thought drove every other thought from Clark’s mind and he could only stare into Bruce’s eyes.
He wasn’t planning anything anymore, not even trying to come up with excuses for his arousal. He was probably as shocked as Clark was, but that didn’t stop them from kissing again. Clark had been hit by lightning before, but it didn’t even begin to compare with this. Bruce’s enjoyment was making it uncomfortable to sit on his lap. Fine, Clark decided, to hell with modesty, the couch was more comfortable than standing in a fold of fabric. He was trying to pull up the tight skirt of the dress so he could straddle Bruce better, when a voice entered his head.
“Kal-el?” J’onn, requesting permission to talk telepathically with Superman. Clark pulled away from that kiss and buried his head between Bruce’s shoulder and neck.
“Yes, J’onn?” He sent back, as calmly as he could.
“Have you made contact with Batman?”
Clark tried not to laugh into the link. Bruce’s erection was digging into his butt and his roaming hands were causing electrical storms on the skin exposed by the backless gown. Contact didn’t even begin to cover what they had been about to do. All he could send back a simple yes.
“Does he have a plan?”
No, he has a massive erection; Clark had to force himself not to respond with. Instead he pulled away a little to speak into Bruce’s ear. “JJ wanted me to talk to you about something.”
Bruce sighed, which was not the response most people would give to imminent rescue from a hostage situation. “Tell him to talk directly to me.”
“J’onn? Bruce would like to speak with you.”
Clark knew he sounded surprised as he sent this. Bruce was always so hesitant about using telepathy, but it was the easiest way to communicate a complicated plan while being monitored. Clark watched Bruce’s eyes glaze over as he talked with J’onn, but was startled to realize Bruce’s hands continued to stroke his skin. Did he have the presence of mind to keep up appearances while telepathically communicating or did he just enjoy the closeness?
“Why don’t you go and call J.J. now?” Bruce sounded truly regretful as he said this, but clearly people’s safety took preference over whatever their bodies were up to.
Clark stumbled a little as he got to his feet; his body was more confused by him leaving Bruce than it had been by the whole sex change thing. He headed for the stairwell and tried to focus on what was about to happen.
“Kal-el?”
“Yes, J’onn?” He responded gratefully, anything to stop thinking about the spot on his butt that still felt Bruce’s erection.
“Batman’s plan had you working your way down the building while Flash works upward. I will be in the building so I can telepathically prevent anyone from detonating their explosives before you reach them. Wonder Woman is outside with a jamming device to prevent remote detonations and runners. Are you ready?”
Clark turned on the x-ray vision and picked out his first target. “Ready.”
“Go.” That word had the echo quality that Clark associated with J’onn talking to more than one person at a time, but Clark was moving before J’onn finished speaking it.
A few of the criminals toward the middle of the building had dazed looks, like a telepath was adjusting their minds, before Clark knocked them out and removed their weapons. He met Flash over the body of the last target, and Wally gapped openly at him.
“Start gathering up the bad guys so we can give them to GCPD.”
Wally snapped off a smart salute and shouted. “Yes, Ma’am.”
As Clark speed off, s]he knew that was only the beginning of the teasing the Flash would send his way. It didn’t take long to gather the men up, so Clark had time to retrieve the explosives and weapons he had taken away from each unconscious thug. The explosives made a nice big pile, completed just as GCPD pulled up. He didn’t know what J’onn had said to them when he called, but they had four paddy wagons and sixteen cop cars.
Clark ducked back into the building and let the Flash talk to the cops. Which was probably a mistake, admittedly, but he didn’t want to be seen like this. Wally was explaining the situation to Commissioner Gordon, who was looking around for Batman. Clark started to withdraw when he realized Wally wasn’t going to mention his condition, but heard a sentence that got his attention.
“Actually, there are two more on the roof, the ones that phoned in the ransom.”
Clark flew up those stairs, hoping J’onn had not forgotten about Bruce’s bodyguards. They had to be in contact with the men downstairs and they might have tried something stupid if they lost communication. The door flung open and Clark was on the roof, slowing down to a human speed. On the other side of the dance floor, a gaggle of admirers swarmed around Brucie on his loveseat throne.
The thugs were gone, so he was now available to cozy up to. But people were coming up to him, which meant wherever the thugs had gone; nobody had seen anything they shouldn’t. An x-ray scan showed two male bodies in a heap under that drape of fabric Clark and Bruce had headed for earlier. No detailed scans were needed to show that whatever Bruce had done to them, it hadn’t been pretty.
Looking back at Bruce, Clark saw him reach up and touch the arm of one of the women flirting shamelessly with him. Surprised by the sudden swell of emotions, Clark turned and headed for the bar. Superman would never drink alcohol; it might set a bad example but Clark Kent very rarely drank in public for an entirely different reason. Clark liked what was commonly known as girly drinks.
He found the exotic flavors more interesting than macho drinks he had to force passed his gag reflex. The barman didn’t give her the funny look Clark would have gotten for ordering that same drink, an injustice to males with taste buds the world over. An arm draped across his backside, but the hand stayed clear of exposed skin. Clark got a close up look at Bruce as he ordered in a drunken slur.
“I’ll have whatever she’s having.” When they took their drinks from the barman, Bruce didn’t even look at him funny. They found a bit of secluded roof where they could keep an eye on the unconscious hostage takers, and watched them instead of each other. “I take it everything went according to plan?”
“Yeah, I just can’t move faster than the speed of modern technology. At least not in heels.” Clark shrugged as he took a drink. “Gordon should be up in a minute to collect your new friends. How did you manage to alert J’onn so fast?”
“Idiots let me dial the phone myself. So, are you sure there’s nothing going on with you that you want to tell me about?” It was said in an offhand, Brucie manner but Clark knew what he was asking.
“J’onn says it’s an allergic reaction to something in the atmosphere of that planet I was visiting. It should wear off in a few days to a week.” Another shrug, even as Clark hoped to hear Bruce laugh like that again. But he didn’t, because being apart had allowed the spell to dissipate. He was back in control of his body and emotions. Though beating up the thugs had probably helped with his frustrated arousal.
“What types of antihistamines did you try?” A scientific question, because he wasn’t going to talk about the ‘loveseat incident,’ as Clark decided to call it.
“Earth medicines don’t work for me, so I haven’t taken any.” This earned him a Bat-glare.
“Have you ever had an Earth disease that requires Earth medicine?”
“Well, no. But my metabolism doesn’t process things like humans do. Like alcohol, I don’t get drunk.” Clark gestured with his now empty glass.
“Yes, but it does process food, and your skin exchanges gasses with the air just like humans. Point is, you could try an antihistamine cream or a couple of tablets, rather than assuming they won’t work. There is a good supply in medical at the Watchtower, unless you want to stay like this.”
Before Clark could reply, cops began emerging from the now functioning elevator. Bruce handed over his untouched Bahama-mama and headed for the cops. “Time to make my statement.”
He didn’t look at Clark as he left or seem to notice the party grinding to a halt as people saw the cops. Draining Bruce’s drink, Clark noticed the disappointed look on all the girls as Bruce only waved to them as he passed. He was greeting Commissioner Gordon as Clark slipped behind the sound equipment.
Making sure everybody was looking the other way; he found freedom in the sky. Later, after returning to the Watchtower and raiding medical, Clark hung up Diana’s dress. Clark didn’t look forward to returning it, because then he would have to explain why he needed it.
A handful of pills were swallowed before he sat down on the bed. Not knowing what else to do, he started rubbing antihistamine cream onto his feet and moved upwards. He laid down for better access to the back of his thighs, and a wished Bruce was helping with this. Just that second of thinking of Bruce brought that lust back in full force. It didn’t take much to continue with that idea, and it was Bruce who was finding new ways to make Clark moan.
A hand on a large breast found Clark’s nipples weren’t as sensitive as they were two days ago. The hand on the thigh tried to find its way into Clark but encountered a ball of nerves. Clark, in his limited sexual experiences had never known what to do with that, but Bruce would know. He would touch it, flick it a little, and as the kisses showed, his tongue was skilled. If Bruce’s head was down there now, what would he be doing with his fingers? What about his enormous, engorged dick?
Clark came at that image, biting his lip to keep from calling out Bruce’s name. Clark wanted to think about what he had just done, decide if it was so good just because it was new, but his body wanted to do that again. Clark brought up the image of Bruce between his long legs and started moving fingers again. When the need subsided enough for Clark to finish applying cream and try to sleep, he got one final thought before sleep came. If I don’t want to see Diana because of borrowing a dress, how am I ever going to face Bruce after what I just did?
sBSbBs
The antihistamines must have helped, because when Clark awoke the next morning things were halfway back to normal. There was no way Clark was going out like this, so a second application of medicine seemed in order. Skipping meals prevented coming into contact with other members of the league, and Clark was exceedingly grateful that Wally was too busy to come and visit. Now all Clark had to do was avoid Bruce until the embarrassment was gone. Ten or twenty years should do fine.
Late Saturday morning, a fully male Superman emerged from his quarters for an enormous meal. After a record breaking twenty-six waffles, he went looking for J’onn. He rounded a corner to find the Martian staring into the contents of a computer console with Batman at his side. Clark stopped walking but found the expected embarrassment did nothing to combat the desire flaring in his guts.
J’onn started to turn his way, so Clark did the mature thing and fled back around the corner he had just come from. The telepath could no doubt find him if he tried, but Clark needed a moment to clamp down on some emotions and physical reactions. Apparently this took a long time, because when he plastered a smile on his face and rounded the corner, Batman was gone.
“Hey J’onn, I’m all better!” The Martian turned from the console to observe the accelerated recovery. “Batman told me to try an antihistamine cream, and I think it helped.”
J’onn gave him an indecipherable look before replying. “Batman had just gone to get a tool; he will be back shortly if you wish to thank him.”
Clark was a little uncomfortable with the fact that J’onn had so easily answered a question Clark dare not ask without admitting he had seen them together and hid. Was it telepathy or just J’onn knowing more than he should? “I should really go, get some sunlight to recharge me. I’ll catch up with Batman later. See you, J’onn.”
This time, when Clark fled, it was much more dignified.
sBSbBs
Clark stared daggers at the white lenses across the large table, angrier than he had been in a long time. It had been years since him and Bruce had gotten into a fight like this during a meeting. It was also strange in that he had felt Bruce was egging him on, purposely being an ass. Did Bruce want to fight with him? If so, why? And why, in the name of all that’s holy, had he let it go this far?
At any point he could have let it go, refusing to rise to the bait but he had given back as good as he got. The tiny points of differences between their suggested tactics were not worth this. It had to stem from their last meeting, though why Bruce would be angry about needing help was beyond Clark. Nothing had happened since the loveseat incident, because Clark had been avoiding Bruce and the desire that flared up whenever he thought of him.
Bruce had women falling at his feet, and Clark wasn’t a woman any longer so it was pointless to admit to feelings that couldn’t be returned. Later he would find out why Bruce was provoking him, for now he would just let it go.
“Fine, Batman. We’ll do it your way.” Clark settled back into his chair, as if suddenly completely indifferent to the whole thing.
Lenses stared at him for a long moment before moving back to the defensive plans for the Watchtower. Clark heard all that was decided on but his thoughts were aimed at deciding just what to do about Bruce. An hour later, when the meeting concluded the only thing he had come up with was to talk to Bruce. Except he knew that wouldn’t work, because Bruce didn’t talk. Still, he had to try, if for no other reason than to avoid another scene like this. As people left, Clark found his way over to Bruce and laid a hand on an armor clad shoulder. “We should talk.”
Batman glared at the hand resting on his shoulder. “If you had more stupid problems with the plans, you should have spoken up during the meeting.”
“It’s not about the plans.” Clark did remove his hand, but knew better than to drop his guard.
“Then what’s it about? I do have things to do.”
Clark considered maybe he should have let Bruce remove the Batsuit before trying to have this conversation. He needed to lure Batman someplace private so he could talk to Bruce. Curiosity. The word filtered into Clark’s brain without context and he frowned at it before he spoke. “I have something for you.”
“What?”
Clark closed his eyes to keep from rolling them. “It’s a gift; part of the pleasure is in not knowing what it is.”
“I doubt I need anything you can afford on your salary.”
“Br… Batman, would you just come with me and get it? You don’t even have to say thank you.” If those thugs had thought Brucie was irritating, they should try a conversation with the Dark Knight.
Batman gestured for Clark to lead the way, so he did. He decided his lockable quarters would be the logical place to hide a gift. Now he had to figure out what he was going to say when they got there. When the door closed behind them, Bruce stood just out of sensor range and waited for a whole two seconds.
“Let’s see it, I’ve got a meeting.”
Anger flared at Batman’s rudeness, so Clark grabbed the only thing he could think of to be a gift. “No. It’s for Bruce, not Batman.”
If Batman could have x-rayed his hand to see what was hidden in it, he would have done so. Curiosity finally got the better of him, so he removed his cowl. He was still more Batman than Bruce, but Clark figured it would have to do. Clark tossed ‘the gift’ to Bruce and waited. He didn’t have to wait long.
“As I paid for this to be stocked in the Watchtower medicine storage, I don’t see how giving it to me is such a gift.”
Clark shrugged. “It’s merely a physical manifestation of what I want to give you.”
Batman’s eyes narrowed. “Right. Because all masters of the astrophysical plane use lube to get there.”
Clark closed the distance between them and reached over Bruce to engage the privacy lock. “The gift is, I want you to be the one to show me how to use it.”
Bruce’s eyes got wide and his pulse rate shot up, but he didn’t say anything. Clark reached up and cupped a hand on the side of Bruce’s face, feeling the power crackle there.
“Seriously, Bruce.” Clark moaned into that stoic face. “Whole counties could be powered by the electricity between us.”
“But you, Boy Scout, are straight.” Bruce couldn’t move back without running into the door, so he stepped sideways.
“Apparently not.” Another shrug. “At least when it comes to you.”
If Bruce wanted to dance some more, Clark was confident in his ability to keep up now.
“We work together. Badly, if that meeting we just came from is any indication.” Step.
“You goaded me into that fight. I let you, because I was starved for your attention.” Counter step.
“You were avoiding me.” Step.
“Only physically. You were in my mind, my dreams, and my heart.” Counter step.
“I’m very possessive.” Step.
“What?” Thrown by the change in reasoning, Clark missed a step.
“Sure, I’m the king of one night stands. But when I claim something or someone as my own, I never give it up. Are you ready for that?” Bruce held his ground, confident he had stopped Clark’s advances. Two more denials, two more steps and he would have tripped over the bed anyway.
“Bruce…” Clark seemed lost for words, so he closed the distance between him and Bruce, and Bruce and the bed. Bruce tried to wiggle out from under, so Clark was forced to hold Bruce’s wrists up over his head. “All those reasons, and you missed the two that would have worked.”
“Please, tell me what they are so I can get you off of me.”
The Bat-growl, now with sarcasm! Clark thought, but couldn’t put any anger behind it. Clark pulled out his imitation of Batman’s voice to reply.
“Clark, I don’t have sex with guys.”
He waited and Bruce didn’t confirm this, didn’t claim he wasn’t turned on by the idea sex with Clark.
Clark reached for the Bat-voice again but lost it halfway through his next statement.
“Clark, I don’t love you.”
Bruce wet his lips but didn’t speak. Just looked at him with eyes that pleaded for Clark to realize the truth at last, a truth he couldn’t say.
“Clark, I haven’t loved you for years.”
Clark waited for Bruce to say something, anything, while he tried to adjust to this. Bruce leaned up and kissed him, and Clark found he didn’t need any adjustment time to this after all. He desperately wanted to feel that lightning all over his skin, except he kept encountering Batsuit. He was almost panting by the time he managed to pull away from Bruce, and his voice was unusually husky.
“I am going to take off my clothes at human speed. Whatever you have left on when I am done, I will rip off.”
It was so difficult to slow down and pull off his clothes, but he did get done in time to watch Bruce emerge from his chest armor. Clark automatically took stock of the new scars and fresh bruises. Bruce sat on the edge of the bed to unlace his boot and Clark had to distract himself from his need.
“So Bruce, if you felt this way, why didn’t you tell me?”
Bruce snorted as he tossed his boot away. “Please. You had to get turned into a girl before it ever even occurred to you to think of me as a potential sexual partner.”
“Yes, but if you had suggested the idea it still might have worked out.”
A second boot landed on top of the first and fell away. “Coming on to somebody who doesn’t like you that way is hard enough. No need to complicate it by making it a person you work with.”
The utility belt was carried over and laid gently on the desk. Clark closed his eyes, because seeing Bruce pull off his pants would undo the need to ask a final question. “Since the loveseat incident, I have been going crazy over you. How could you stand to be around me and feel even half that without the need to say something?”
“By turning passion into anger.” The voice was much closer than it should have been and a finger started sending spirals of lightning up his arm.
“The meeting, fight, pushing me away.” Clark knew he was incoherent, but was much more worried by the fact that he couldn’t remember how to open his eyes.
“Yes.”
The throaty voice had moved, but before Clark could do anything to find out where Bruce had gone, he found out. Something rough and flexible was wiped across the head of his penis. Clark froze until he could force his eyes open and looked down to see Bruce before him.
Resting on his knees, he was touching Clark only with his tongue. Doubtless learning and cataloguing just what Clark liked, Bruce used his tongue as a probe. He licked the shaft thoroughly, snaked his tongue behind the ridge and did something to the bottom of the penis that made Clark go blind with his eyes open. Vision returned just as Bruce took the head into his mouth. He growled at Clark even as he started sucking, and Clark came hard.
He returned to his senses to feel the bed under his back. He wanted to ask Bruce how he had gotten here, but Bruce was staring down at him with the lube dangling from his finger and thumb. The fire in his eyes started getting Clark hard again.
“Glad you’re back with me, Clark. There is no real need to pay attention to what I’m about to tell you, because I will take great pleasure in showing it to you for the rest of my life. First, you get in position. Second, I apply lube to my fingers and penis. Third, I slide fingers into you.”
Clark was just aware that his ankles were on Bruce’s shoulders, when a wet finger entered his awareness. There was no pain, because he was invulnerable, just a stretching sensation. A second finger entered and just touched something that made Clark squirm.
“Hold on Clark, have a little patience and it gets better.”
Clark was rock hard again, just listening to Bruce promise more of this. A third finger for more stretching, and then Clark was unexpectedly empty. He tried to find words to express his disappointment and the lecture started up again.
“Step four, I enter you.” Bruce did enter, slowly and watching for signs of distress.
Again, Clark was robbed of the words to tell Bruce what he was feeling. Finally, Bruce’s pelvis locked into Clark and Clark noticed Bruce’s eyes. The sex education lecturer, Batman, Brucie, they were all gone as Bruce was lost in the wonder of what he was doing and who he was doing it with. He moaned as his body took over, sliding in and out, brushing a place that made Clark need more. Just when it was too much, Bruce slammed into him and came with a small joyful noise. Clark spouted all over them both and was pulling Bruce closer before he finished.
They shuddered against each other until there was nothing left to do but breathe. Clark found himself growing nervous, as he waited for Bruce to say something. Sure, Bruce had climaxed, and he knew better than to expect a declaration of undying love, but wanted to know if Bruce was happy.
“So, Bruce. Just out of curiosity, and bearing in mind that this is my first time, how was it for you?”
Bruce sighed heavily against Clark’s chest before responding. “It was all that I feared.”
Clark smiled at the ceiling, exceedingly glad he could understand Bruce code. Being with you Clark, is everything I’ve dreamed of and now I have no choice but to love you forever.
“I love you too, Bruce.”
sBSbBs
J’onn brought his mental awareness back into his body, left in a meditating posture in his room. Despite what Clark thought, he had never made any mental suggestions to Clark. He had simply turned him loose on Bruce without the inhibitions of being a hero. Clark’s chaste love had been present since shortly after Clark had met the real Bruce, and Clark classified it as friendship.
Clark’s love was background noise to all they did. It was so strong J’onn wondered how others had not noticed. So the only real surprise had been an unguarded moment, when Batman had allowed his love to escape his mental shields. J’onn had been bewildered by the intensity of the feeling, hidden under a thin veneer of anger. Maybe oil and water didn’t mix, but with the right catalyst they could merge. And sometimes, J’onn mused, that catalyst could be a friend with good intentions.
sBSbBs