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It was easy to be a hero when blades bent on your skin and bullets no more bothered you than the buzzing of flies, when you could fly at supersonic speeds and lift a locomotive with one hand. Death and dismemberment was but a far-off curiosity that only affected other people. It was easy to be a hero when there was no risk to yourself in it.
Superman often wondered if he would still have been a hero if his body were frail and tiny and infinitely breakable. Would he have still ran towards danger and disaster if his bones could snap and one strategic laceration could pop him and drain him like a pathetic blood-filled waterballoon? If he could die, would he risk his life to save other people?
He didn’t know the answer to that question, and he preferred not to think to hard on it, for he wasn’t sure he liked the answer.
The fact of the matter was, the alien didn’t really understand pain, and if he had, he might very well have been as cowardly as the rest of the human race.
But there was one little human that was inexplicably different than the rest of the fearful, cowering masses. One that was very much like himself, and seemed to have almost no grasp of fear or pain or his own very real frailty. That was a large part of why he was so fascinated by the nosy little reporter, Takaba Akihito. The young man was forever flinging his tender flesh over the hot coals of calamity without sparing a thought for his own well-being. He was a courageous little spitfire who had a nose for trouble and a passion for truth and justice. He never shied away from a story, no matter how dangerous it got, and would follow a lead straight to the source, even if that source happened to be a mentally-deranged mob boss with a penchant for cutting people’s faces off.
Superman often wondered what miracles Takaba might have accomplished had his lionheart been born in a Kryptonian body instead of a baby-faced human .
That was the other part of why he was so fascinated by the reporter- Takaba Akihito was quite frankly, the most beautiful little human he had ever seen. Why the first time he had seen those furious, wide-lashed blue eyes glaring up at him, it was like getting a piano dropped on his head. Or something more like an exploding fuel-tanker, in Superman’s case.
Moments after introducing himself, Takaba had pushed right by him, on his way to give the Daily Planet’s Chief Editor a piece of his mind. When he got to Perry White’s office, he turned back around and pointed one delicate, indignant finger back at Superman’s broad chest.
“I work ALONE. I do NOT need a partner, so you can just tell this.. this.. this… corn-fed country boy to go back to his chickens! Pulitzer Prize winning journalist Takaba Akihito works alone!”
The elderly man lowered his fuzzy white eyebrows and examined the flushed, indignant blond. Superman’s eyes had fallen to those full, pouting, quivering, trembling lips. Even spouting insults as they were, he still want to suck on them.
“Now Takaba,” the old man soothed, “Don’t think of Asami here as your partner, but more as your.. Assistant.” He winked conspiratorially over the petite blond’s head at the taller man. “He’s going to accompany you on your assignments, and assist you in proofing your articles and-”
“Baby-sit me is more like it! Tell the truth, you hired this muscle-bound macho man to bodyguard for me didn’t you? As if this steroid junky can even read!”
Takaba looked scathingly over at Asami. Asami might have been upset, but he was still preening inside over the ‘muscle-bound macho man’ comment. He had dressed himself in baggy clothes and tied padding about his waist, but apparently, despite all that, his broad stature was still apparent. Perhaps another pillow stuffed in the front of his pants would help.
Mr. White scowled, “Takaba, you have been kidnapped no less than four times in the last year, and each and every escape was pure luck. You might be my star reporter, but you are also an idiot with a death-wish. And Asami here, is not only highly trained in martial arts, but also has a double major in English literature and Journalism from Yale university, whereas you, Mr. Junior College, can’t tell a semi-colon from a hole in the ground, and think periods and paragraph breaks are for sissies.”
Takaba cross his arms, “The readers don’t care. Good grammar doesn’t make good stories.”
“No, maybe not, but then neither do dead reporters.”
“I don’t WANT a partner,” he said again, his stubborn little chin jutted out mutinously. Asami wanted to kiss it. He had been warned by Perry beforehand that his partner was stubborn, competitive and rude, but he hadn’t expected him to be drop-dead gorgeous and sinfully attractive. Why even the way he smelled... it was sugar and cream and sex...
Perry’s face began to turn red with anger, “You’ll work with him or I’ll- I’ll- I’ll…. I’ll assign you to the gossip columns for a month!”
Takaba’s hands fisted at his sides, “You wouldn’t!”
“Just watch me!”
The two men just stared at each other until finally Takaba threw up his hands, “Ok fine!” He turned and addressed Asami for the first time, “But you better not slow me down!”
Asami smirked and Takaba stalked off, his adorable little butt wiggling in anger beneath his tight pants. Superman watched him go, with his glasses slipped down on his nose and his X-ray vision fully engaged. It was the first time he undressed Takaba with his eyes, but it certainly wasn’t the last.
Over the next few months of working together, Takaba came to believe that Asami was an excellent listener. But the truth was, every time the fiery hellion went off on one of his tirades, Asami just let his mind and eyeballs wander... right through the young man’s clothes. He especially liked it when Takaba got angry enough to jump or stomp his little feet so that all his pretty parts jiggled. MmHm. Yep, Asami could ‘listen’ to him for hours.
Unfortunately, that was about all Takaba thought his partner was good for.
Asami Ryuichi the man appeared egregiously inept as both a bodyguard and partner. He was forever disappearing right when Takaba needed him most. But Superman, well Superman was always there, right in the nick of time.
This time, Superman watched the boy from the rooftop of an abandoned warehouse, his golden eyes easily piercing through the tin metal roof to keep an eye on the boy. As Asami Ryuichi, he appeared slovenly, with a pillow stuffed in the front of his pants, slumped shoulders, untidy hair and thick glasses. But, as Superman, he was the stuff of girlish dreams… and boyish fantasies, as he could tell from the erections Akihito tried desperately to hide when Superman carried him in his arms. He was always rescuing the blond from some villain or another.
Superman could easily have stopped him by trickery or simply beat him to the punch by slaughtering the boy’s enemies before they ever touched him. But he never got tired of watching Takaba stare down his opponents with his blazing blue eyes, full of courage and truth and honesty.
And also, there was something so incredibly satisfying about ‘saving’ him, that Asami just couldn’t resist. The way the boy looked at him, full of gratitude and adoration and hero-worship. Like the life-giving rays of Earth’s yellow sun, Superman FED on Takaba’s admiration. It nourished him in the way the chants of the crowd never did. They didn’t matter, not really. But, this one small, lion-hearted boy…. Well, he was ALL that mattered.
Superman paced patiently, hovering just a few feet off the roof so as to avoid the sound of his heavy footsteps. He was waiting for Takaba’s kidnappers to return, so he could beat them senseless and throw them into a pile for the police to collect. Takaba always liked it when he did that.
The boy was tied to a chair this time, by the ankles, with his wrists behind his back. Asami watched him struggle in the chair and wondered what it would be like to have a heart so strong, and a body so weak. He could have broken those ropes like gossamer spiderwebs, but he’d never have put himself in such a position in the first place. He’d never have bothered, not for anyone but this boy. Asami had became a hero, lauded by the world, but really, he only ever did it for the adulation of the one. They say all males strove to impress their mates, and Asami supposed that was at least on thing he had in common with the humans.
He had always the strength and the ability, but it was Takaba who inspired him to stand and to fight.
The alien had really never seen the point before. Humans seemed made to fight each other and to die over senseless arguments. It was their way. But Asami could not stand the thought of Akihito dying in his fruitless quest to make the world a better place. No, that was impossible.
He had thought to take him away from all the violence, and imprison him in his fortress of solitude. Asami would have liked that, to have Takaba all to himself, surrounded by a thousand miles of snow and ice. But his high-spirited beloved would have wasted away from anger, bitterness, and boredom. And this was so much better than being hated. To Takaba, Superman was this great symbol of honor and hope, and the boy loved him with all the great ferocity that he loved all his high ideals.
Takaba loved Superman.
Really, that was the whole point of all of this superhero crap.
So the powerful man waited on the roof, and bided his time as the little reporter struggled to free himself from his bonds. He was blindfolded and cursing up a storm. Watching him struggle so fruitlessly made Asami hard in his suit. Someday he’d have the little hellion trussed up just the same, in his bed.
He watched as men made their way into the warehouse and Akihito began to thrash more insistently, his head turning in fear towards the sound of footsteps. Asami would have liked to have waited a bit longer, let them bluster and threaten the boy a bit before rescuing him, but one of the men carried a gun, and that was a threat to his love’s safety that Asami could not abide.
Superman crashed down through the ceiling with an astonishing ‘bang’.
The first thing he did was snag the back of Akihito’s blindfold at superspeed and let it fall to the floor. Afterall, what was the point of a heroic rescue dressed all in spandex if the object of his affections wasn’t able to see it?
Once those pretty blue eyes were fixed on him, he made a great show of kicking and punching, turning to and fro to make his cape swirl handsomely. He let the villains get in a few good hits of their own, just so he could smile at them and show how it didn’t even hurt. He made sure to clench his biceps and puff up his muscles to their eye-popping best as he thrashed the villains soundly.
He knocked them all out, tied them all up and left them to be collected by law enforcement, then moved to kneel before Akihito’s flushed cheeks and gasping lips.
The handsome man leaned in just a bit closer than was necessary to untie him. “Are you alright?” he murmured in Takaba’s ear and smiled with satisfaction as he heard his heartbeat speed up, and noted the goosepimples appear on smooth skin.
The journalist blushed prettily, “Yes, yes, now that you’re here. You always find me, just the nick of time. How do you always do that?”
Superman clasped those tiny hands in his and pulled Takaba to his feet. He smiled down at him, “Well, how do you always manage to get yourself in these situations?”
The blond flushed scarlet and shrugged.
The handsome man bowed his head and lowered his voice to a deep, husky timbre, on that he knew made Takaba’s toes curl. “You know, one might think you do it just to get my attention, but I assure you, you needn’t throw yourself in harm’s way to get my attention.”
It was just the right amount of flirty and suggestive and it send the reporter’s blood pressure through the roof. Asami smirked and then turned his head to the side and pretended as if he had heard some far-off cry for help.
Takaba looked up at him anxiously, “What? What is it?”
“Someone needs me,” he said gruffly.
“Then you must go,” the reporter said sorrowfully, looking up at him with eyes so full of worshipful admiration it nearly made Asami cum in his spandex pants.
“But I don’t want to leave you. Are you sure you’ll be okay?” he questioned gallantly.
Takaba laughed, “I think I can handle it from here. And my partner should be along any moment.”
That was quite true. Superman’s ‘Asami Ryuichi’ costume was stashed on the roof, along with Takaba’s camera bag for the boy would be furious with his partner if he didn’t get at least a few good shots of the criminals before the cops stashed them away.
“Alright.”
He took off, hovering in the air, just to show off and then turned back with a hot gaze, “And Takaba Akihito, do try to stay out of trouble. If you wish to see me, you need only leave your balcony door open tonight. I will come to you.”
A sharp gasp told Asami that Takaba understood exactly what he was saying. He didn’t wait for him to acknowledge it, only took off like a rocket through the hole he’d made in the roof during his grand entrance.
Takaba was still all flushed and hot and bothered when Asami Ryuichi came bursting in the backdoor, befuddled and flustered and upset that he’d missed all the action. He'd snap his fingers and exclaim dorkily, “Yet again? Dagnabbit!” Takaba would roll his lovely eyes at his ineptitude and grab his camera and hardly give him a second thought as he snapped away at the crime scene. Asami would watch him hungrily from behind his thick glasses.
He spent a lot of time on Takaba’s balcony- spying on him every night, using his supervision to see him in the shower and his superhearing to hear him cry out ‘Oh Superman’ as he touched himself beneath the covers- all while Superman shamefully masturbated himself only a few feet away.
Oh yes, he spent countless hours on that balcony, but tonight, the doors would be open and Takaba would welcome him with open arms, an open heart… and open legs. He'd offer him a soft place to sheath his steel. How he longed to lay between those soft thighs, and rest his head in his little warrior’s arms and listen to that lionheart beat in Takaba’s tiny fragile chest. He’d fuck him ever so gently and afterwards hold him so tightly, but not tight enough to injure. Asami would lay there and think about the fact that, there wasn’t a human on the planet that he couldn’t break… but there was one who could break him.