There were several piles of machinery in the room, and Scribe got busy investigating each of them. "So, what am I looking at?"

Superman followed behind her, his voice a little anxious. "Scribe, don't touch..."

"Oh, please, I have better sense than to start pushing buttons." She looked closer at the machine she was currently examining. "Especially when they're labelled in something that looks like Kryptonian. Or is that Kryptonish? Kryptonese? Anyway, it's all Greek to me." Clive opened his mouth, and she said quickly, "Don't say it, Clive."

"That's the Phantom Zone ray machine," Superman said.

"Eep! Lemme away from that. I have no desire to bring General Zod back, no matter how sexy Terrence Stamp is."

"Now wait a minute, precious," said Clive.

"Sexy, but he could give Luthor a run for his money in the megalomaniacal sociopath competition, plus he'd have superpowers."

"Oh, pooh. Never mind, then."

Superman indicated another machine--one that was connected to a glass booth about the size of a small shower stall. "This is what Luthor's research department was working on."

They all gathered around it. Superman flipped some switches and turned some dials. A small screen flickered into life. "This is an interdimensional viewer. You turn this dial to focus on different dimensions until you find the one you want."

Scribe watched as people who looked human, aside from their orange skin, walked along a fairly normal looking street. "How many dimensions are there?"

He sighed gustily. "Apparently an infinite number. That read-out there assigns a number to each one you view, but the dial never reaches a stop--it just keeps turning. That will be the most difficult part of this venture--locating your home dimension."

"Crap. Sounds worse than trying to pick numbers for the lottery, and I'd probably have more luck winning that."

"Well, the good point is that we can take items from the other dimensions, so if you land in the wrong one we can just haul you back and try again."

"How comforting. Can you send yet?"

"Soon. There's only a little readjusting that needs to be done. I thought that you could spend some time reviewing possible destinations, noting down their location, before we tried. That way we'd be ready to try the next one immediately if the first one wasn't right."

"Sounds good to me." She pulled a chair in front of the console and dragged over a pad of paper and a pencil. "This looks interesting, anyway. Why don't you go show Clive around the fortress for awhile and let me get started on a list?"

Superman looked at Clive. Clive smiled. "Um, are you sure you don't need..."

She waved at him as she clicked the dial over one notch. "Get out of here. I can have my tour later." She squinted at the screen. "Tails? Don't think so." click

"C'mon, pet. I hear you have trophies?" Clive urged Superman toward the door.

"Yes."

"Lions and tigers and bears?"

Scribe's voice floated to him. "In-freaking-credible. No douches, but they have The Wizard of Oz."

"No, I don't believe in big game hunting. There's a mastodon head, but I couldn't help that one. It was about to step on someone, and I had to stop it."

"Justifiable mammothcide?"

"No, I didn't kill it, exactly. It had a heart attack."

Clive laughed. "Lord, I love it. I bet you capture spiders and release them outside instead of stepping on them."

"They'd freeze up here. I put them in a box till I can transport them back to Metropolis." He led Clive to the trophy room and they spent a pleasant hour touring.

"Good lord, a solid gold hula hoop," Clive marvelled.

"No, that's a ring belonging to one of the Brobidaggians of Telemaxus II."

"A finger ring?"

"What other types of rings are there?"

Clive smiled seductively, "You'd be surprised. Why don't you come over here behind this display and I'll tell you about it?"

"Why do we need to go behind the display?"

"Well, we don't really have to, if you're not shy. First off, I need to ask you a question."

"Okay."

"How do you get in and out of that suit? I don't see any openings."

"Scribe asked me that, too. It stretches."

"So you just pull it on like a bodysuit, hm? Okay, then what do you do when you need to go to the bathroom?"

"Actually, I can hold it for a long time."

Clive squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. "Oh, the interpretations one could put on that statement, but I suppose you mean your bladder."

"Um, yes. Anyway, when I need to use the facilities, there's a way."

"Yes?"

Superman cleared his throat. "The trunks."

"The red part?" Clive looked at his costume closely. "Wait a moment." His face lighted with delight and discovery. He reached out and ran a finger across Superman's abdomen, just along the line where red met blue. Superman shivered. "Why, it isn't one piece! Those are trunks, not part of the overall suit."

"Yes."

"Do you mean to tell me that you have a cutout under there?"

"Yes." Clive hooked his fingers under the waistband. "Hey!"

"Just want to check, darling." Clive tugged down, and Superman grabbed at the fabric to keep it from slipping. Neither were entirely successful. A rim of skin appeared between the blue and red. "Oh, come on." With his free hand, Clive massaged the front of Superman's trunks.

Superman regarded him with shocked eyes. "Clive, I thought you and Scribe..." he trailed off.

"We did, and very nice it was. But you're nice, too."

"But I'm a man, Clive."

"I n-o-t-i-c-e-d." He rubbed again, and the other man moaned. "Sweetie, don't tell me that you don't know about bi-sexuality? You're supposed to be from a more advanced society."

"But I was raised in a mid-west small town."

"Well, you've moved on to the big city physically, doll, so why not sexually?" Clive rubbed again, and Superman closed his eyes. "Tha-at's right. Nice, hm?" He gently pried Superman's fingers loose, one at a time. And even if he doesn't come right out and admit it, he's not adverse, because otherwise I damn sure wouldn't be able to make him let loose.

Clive pulled, and the red trunks slid down smoothly. There was indeed a cut out, front and back, to allow nature to take its course. "Darling, who made that?"

He was blushing. "My mother."

"Could she make me one just like it in vinyle? I'd be such a hit at the next Dom's Ball. The design is just marvelous--uncovers the essential bits." He skimmed a finger along the edge of Superman's pubic area. "What have we here?"

"Um... it's..."

"I know what it is, pet. That was more of a rhetorical question than anything. Now, I don't always ask, but in this case I will. If I touch, will you punch my head off?"

He stared at Clive. Finally, very slowly, he said, "No."

"Ah, I thought not." He slid his arms around Superman's neck. "I detected a bit of interest on the way up here." He pressed against Superman, pushing his leather clad crotch against the other man's bare one as he gave Superman his first male/male kiss.

Superman stayed very still. It was a kiss, all right, but it was a lot different from any he'd experienced with a woman. For one thing, he'd usually been the agressor, and now he was on the receiving end. And 'receiving' was a very appropriate term. Clive believed in invasive kissing. Superman had parted his lips when the other man's mouth touched his (and he was a little astonished with himself about how quickly that had happened), and Clive wasted no time in making a thorough exploration.

Well, this is novel, Superman thought. And pretty damn interesting. I wonder what would happen if I...Wow! I wonder what would happen if I sucked on his tongue? He tried it.

A second later he found himself on the floor with Clive on top of him. Clive pulled up for a moment. "The floor isn't too cold for you, is it, cutie?"

Superman gasped, "My cape is under me."

"Good. I really don't have the patience to go looking for a padded surface right now." He sat back till he was kneeling astraddle Superman's thighs. "Now, I said I'd explain about different types of rings. There's the finger ring, of course. Then there's the brass ring, which I think I just grabbed." He started ticking off on his fingers. "Ring of roses, ring of conspirators, ring of truth, nipple rings, and my favorite," He reached down and, using thumbs and forefingers, sircled the base of Superman's rapidly hardening cock, squeezing firmly, "the cock ring--a handly little device that constricts blood and seminal flow, thus allowing the wearer to keep a hard-on for just ages and ages."

"You... you wouldn't happen to have one of those with you? I mean, I'm interested in a purely scientific way."

"Of course, lamb." Clive stroked up, slowly and firmly, and Superman moaned. "Not with me, I'm afraid. I mean, there's simply no pocket room in these pants. I didn't bring any lubricant for the same reason, so that limits our options a bit. That's okay, anyway, because I'm not yet entirely comfortable with the idea about putting my dick anywhere there's even the remotest possibility it might be squeezed off."

"It doesn't work that way."

"Glad to hear it--I'll start making plans for later." He started unbuttoning his fly. "Till then I'm sure we can come to a satisfactory arrangement."

"Look, I haven't..."

"I know, but I bet you're a quick study." He spread his fly open, pulling out his erection. "Let's start this out by making introductions. Here's where you find out that 'press the flesh' doesn't HAVE to refer to shaking hands." He lay back down on top of Superman and began to hump.

Superman's encounter with Scribe had been a while back, there had been nothing in between, and Clive... Well, Clive was damn near irresistable when he put his mind (and other parts of his body) to it. Superman found himself humping up to meet Clive's thrusts, their arousals sliding together with a friction that threatened to drive him out of his mind. He grabbed Clive's ass and pulled him against his body hard...

...and Clive stopped moving. He said gently, "Let's get something straight, if you'll pardon the expression. I'm a Dom, Supe. That means that I call the shots. Now, if you're very good I might consent to let you sort of top sometime in the future, but if you try to get Dommish on me right now, rest assured that even if you are invulnerable I will find a way to make you sorry." He reached between them and stroked the other man's cock. "Be nice and I'll make you glad you were."

Superman studied him. "Okay."

"Good boy. Reward time." Clive bent and licked the other man's glans, then took it into his mouth and sucked.

Superman's head fell back. "Oh, wow. I save a planet and get a silver plaque. I agree not to be pushy and get this. Someone, somewhere, has their priorities seriously screwed up."

Clive almost choked. He pulled back and said, "You're right, dear, but if you make me laugh, we won't get anywhere with this." He settled back to what he had been doing.

Superman threw his arms out to the side, grabbing at the floor as Clive deep throated him. Clive continued, using his tongue lavishly on each back stroke. When he heard a noise other than gasps and grunts he pulled off to look. "Precious, you seem to have clawed chunks out of the floor."

Superman looked. "Only the tiles. I haven't reached the steel plate base, so the cold shouldn't seep up from the permafrost."

"Mm. You just be careful what you do with those hands, sweetcheeks. Now, turnabout is fair play." Clive shifted. In a twinkle he was straddling Superman's head, with his own head hovering over the other man's crotch.

"Wait a minute!" Superman's voice wasn't quite panicked.

"Don't get difficult, dear. Just pretend it's Christmas, and remember that it is better to give than to receive." Superman thought about it a moment, then reached up and tentatively ran his fingers along Clive's length. Clive quivered. Little Clive quivered. "Not a bad start, but you don't get any more until I get some."

That got a reaction. Superman closed his eye, pulled Clive closer, and licked. His tongue brushed over warm, soft skin, and he felt hair tickle his chin. There was a pleased sound from Clive. He did it again, and this time he encountered a slick, slightly bitter fluid. Actually the taste was kind of intrigueing, so he went hunting for more of it.

Clive breathed, "Oh, precious, you are going to do all right."

Superman's prick was once again enveloped in wet heat, and that spurred him on to greater efforts. He prided himself on being able to learn to do almost anything--why should this be any different? Remembering what Clive had done, he located the fleshy knob at the end of the other man's penis and drew it between his lips. He was a little surprised when Clive thrust shallowly into his mouth, but since he was doing the same thing to the hairdresser right then he could hardly complain. Actually, when he thought about it, he felt no inclination to complain.

Clive stopped for a moment. "Sweetums? Look, it isn't that I don't like you, but let me know before you're ready to come so I can pull off." Superman let go of Clive's cock for a moment and started to speak. "Yes, I know you said that it doesn't work that way, but I'd rather have a trial period first, and besides, if your partner asks you not to come in his mouth, it's only polite." He squeezed Superman's thighs. "Understand?"

"Yes, Clive."

"On the other hand, if you'd like to try it, and you're positive your jaws aren't going to lock..."

"Don't worry about it."

Clive sighed, "God, sometimes I almost wish I wasn't so horny." He eyed the thick hard-on, spit slick, wavering before him. "Then I say, 'What the hell'." He swooped down again. Superman resumed also. It was amazing how much even small sounds like slurping could echo inside a hollowed out arctic ice mountain.

Soon Superman clutched at the back of Clive's legs, making a muffled sound. Clive let his cock slide out of his mouth, "Don't talk with your mouth full, precious. I get the message." He spat in his hands, gripped Superman's cock, and masturbated him, quickly and firmly. The muscular body below him jerked as the superhero came, and Clive caught a burst of warm sperm across his cheek. He continued milking, and was rewarded with two more less emphatic spurts.

He could feel his own orgasm building up, about to burst over the edge, and said, "Sweetie, if you don't want a throat wash you'd better pull off now." Superman's response was to grip him a little tighter and try to cram the rest of Clive's cock down his throat. He couldn't quite make it, but the effect was still very gratifying. Clive braced himself and came, purring with pleasure as his lover swallowed industriously.

When they were both finished they lay there, Clive with his head pillowed on Superman's thighs. He kissed the now soft dick and moved off him. "That was scrumptious, pet. And I didn't have to worry about your squirt putting my eye out any more than I have with any of my other lovers, so I think that we can consider getting w-a-y closer sometime in the future. Ever had anything up your bum besides a proctologists finger?"

Superman didn't think he'd be able to blush anymore after that little scene, but he found that he was wrong. "Actually, I've never had that." He shrugged. "Physical exams would be a threat to my secret identity." He stood up and reached for his trunks, which had somehow ended up hanging from the handle of a gold cup he'd been awarded for some civic service.

"Really?" Clive patted the firm buttocks that were so nicely framed by the back cutout of the costume. "Nothing? Ooo, you poor, deprived thing! If Scribe wasn't waiting for us I'd remedy that. I just can't wait to introduce you to your prostate. I think I'm going to have to sink your feet in cement, just to be sure you don't kick me into the next county the first time I massage it."

Superman reached into a hidden pocket in his cape and pulled out a handkerchief. Clive arched an eyebrow. Superman shrugged. "My Mom would still skin me if I went out without a clean handkerchief." He looked sheepish. "She doesn't know about the no underwear under the uniform. You... uh..." He gestured at Clive's face.

"Oh, yes." He held out his hand, but Superman put one hand on his shoulder and gently wiped his cheek clean. Clive smiled. "Thank you, pet. Now hand it over." Superman did, and Clive gently wiped the other man's cock clean. "Now, you won't stick to your clothes. Step in, and we'll go find Scribe. If I know her, she's about ready for lunch."

They started for the room where they'd left her. "I can fly us anywhere you like for lunch. There's a nice bistro in Paris that does good boulliabase."

"Can't get enough of French, eh? God, you turn the loveliest shade of pink."

Scribe looked up from the screen. The pad before her was filled with columns of numbers, and she looked a little dispirited, but she smiled when she saw them. "Hi. Have a nice tour?"

"We both learned new things," Clive said. "How are you doing, dearest?"

She sighed. "Just 'cause we find a way of jumping dimensions doesn't necessarily mean I'll know which way to jump. Oh, well, I guess it's progress."

Superman turned off the machine. "That's enough for now."

Clive nodded agreement. "You need a rest, Scribe. Superman is going to fly us to Paris for boulliabase."

Superman smiled at Clive. "You can call me Kal-el."

Scribe giggled, and started to sing, "Getting to kn-o-ow you, getting to know a-all about y-ou..."