What Came After, part 1
by KungFuNurse

Mostly a sequel to Cages.
Disclaimers:  I didn't create them and I'm certainly not being paid for my obsession.  In fact, DC doesn't even know I exist.  Thank god.

Also thank Crystal for another wonderful round of 'encourage the pokey writer'.  You're an awesome beta, and your ideas keep me from looking like an idiot.  *smooch*
Warnings: m/m themes.  Bruce/Clark, and B/C/Kyle implied.  BDSM play.  Pretty vanilla in my book, but the boys are just starting out.  Also angst.  Sorry, had to be done.  Adults Only

Feedback: yes, please.  Tell me what you liked and what you want to see improved for next time.  kungfunurse@visi.com

***


Clark sat in the darkened room, his book forgotten on his lap.  Lois was out late tonight, following up on a lead.

It was Wednesday night.  Date night.  The one night of the week that they were supposed to put the rest of the world aside and just be together.

Although, Clark mused, I can't remember the last time we actually pulled it off.

Last week there was that earthquake in South America, and the week before Lois had begged off, citing massive amounts of typing to get done for the morning deadline.

So that was what, three weeks ago?  Four?  Clark shook his head.  He truly had lost count.

However long ago it was, that was also the last time he'd made love to his wife.  They just didn't seem to find the time anymore.  The honeymoon was well and truly over.  And the marriage?

Time was, I couldn't have gone more than a few days without some serious naked time between the sheets, Clark mused with dark humor.

When had that started to slip away?  Shouldn't I have felt it?  What does it say about me that I didn't even notice?

He held his hands up before his face, examining them in the darkness that was no barrier to his sight.  They were large hands, and strong.  Even without his powers they would have been impressive.  With them he could tear apart the world or brush a tear off of a frightened face.  They were his hands and he was proud of them.

But they were rock steady.  And that was wrong.

It had been far too long since he'd held his wife.  His mate.  The tremors should have started by now.  He was familiar with all the symptoms.  The shakes, the twisting clench of his gut, the aches in his muscles that nothing would ease.  And his senses.  God, they'd either explode wildly or drop to nothing.  More than once his life had been in danger because he'd gone too long without her.

But it had been a month.  Maybe more.  No, definitely more.  And his hands were rock steady.

Don't kid yourself, he mentally chided.  You know why you don't have the shakes.  Why you haven't for a while, now.  Because the truth is that you've been in contact with your mate all along.  Not in a sexual way, true.  But emotionally?  Intellectually?  Oh yes.  Practically every week since you've met.  And in the last few years that frequency and intimacy had only increased.  Now we see each other almost every day.

He and Bruce.

Just thinking of the man sent a delicious shiver through Clark's body.  His breath hitched and he fisted his hands.

No, this wasn't the time to get lost in fantasies.  Lois' car door echoed in the parking garage below.  It was time to talk.

Clark put the book on the table and stood up.  He turned to face one big, bay window and leaned against the sill, looking out over the Metropolis night while tracking his wife's movements by sound.  The *clak-clak* of her heels paused, then retreated as she remembered something and returned to her car.  Forgot the radio face, thought Clark.  There'd been a rash of robberies, and the Kents hadn't been exempt from the petty thieves.

Now she was hurrying towards the elevator.  Clark suppressed a grin as she hit the button, then pressed it three or four more times.  Yes Lois, that really will bring the elevator faster.

He continued to distract himself with idle thoughts.  He didn't want what was coming.  Not in a way.  Not really.  And when the door handle rattled as she unlocked it, Clark felt his gut clench and he wondered briefly if he wasn't getting the shakes after all.

"You will never believe my evening.  He stood me up!  Can you believe it?  Why, I could have done more for that man's PR image in one night!  One night!"

The whirlwind that was Lois Lane flew through the apartment.  Lights switched on in the kitchen as she sailed by, tossing purse and keys on the counter without breaking stride towards the bedroom.

It was what had drawn him to her initially.  That endless energy.  Her boundless curiosity, sharp mind, and fast-paced life had challenged him.  For the first time in far too long he'd felt like he had found someone he wouldn't overwhelm.  Someone who could make him feel equal.  Human.

It was why he'd let her call him "Smallville".  That careless, derogatory little nickname had followed him all through their career together.  No one would ever dare to treat Superman like that, only Clark.  And he'd found that being belittled was a way to fit in.  A way to belong to these strange people among whom he lived but didn't always understand.  So he allowed her to make fun of him.  He shrugged and grinned when she stole a story out from under him (Scooped ya again Smallville!) with that smile and flick of her hair.  It was worth it to be accepted, wasn't it?

How could I have known that there was another way?  Clark thought, running his hand through his dark curls.  How long did I live my life like that?  Why didn't I know that I don't need to be made less in order to find an equal?

His equal had been there all along.

Clark shook his head sharply.  Also not the time for self-recrimination.  He hadn't seen the obvious because it hadn't BEEN obvious.  Yes, he and Bruce were, well…special together.  But it would never have worked.  Not in a million years.  Not without Kyle.

"So, since I suddenly had the night free I called Anna, you remember Anna?  The redhead?  With the boyfriend?  Anyway, we got together for a few drinks, you know, just the girls, and since it was Wednesday and Lou always works late on…"

The voice from the bedroom trailed off and Lois wandered slowly into the bright kitchen.

"Oh damn, Smallville.  I completely, I mean, it's Wednesday again, isn't it?"

Clark finally turned away from the window, his huge, muscular form silhouetted against the night sky.

"I'm glad you're home, Lois.  It's…we need to talk."

"Look, hon," she began quickly.  "I know I messed up.  I know!  But it's not like you haven't bailed a time or two."  Lois opened a cupboard door to get the coffee.  "I mean, we're both just, you know, busy!"  Her fingers fumbled with the coffee filters, dropping some of them into the sink.  "Damn.  Anyway, I'll make it up to you.  Just, you know, probably not till next week.  I've got that interview out in DC and-"

"Lois."

His quiet tone scared her.  Clark could smell the sharp scent of fear and hear the frantic kick of her heart. He sighed.  He didn't want to hurt her.  He'd never wanted to hurt her.  But dragging this out wouldn't help anyone.

"Well, Smallville, tell me about your day."  She smiled a bit desperately. "What's Superman been up to today?"

That was his Lois.  Whenever she was uncomfortable, she'd ask a question, take the offensive and toss the ball right back at you.

He looked her straight in her face, well aware that his eyes were shining in the semi-gloom.

"Seducing Batman."

She stared at him for a second, caught by his alien gaze, then seemed to register his words.  "Oh, yeah, right."  She snorted nervously.  "Come on Smallville, pull the other one."

"No, really," he continued in that same quiet voice.  "You remember last night, with the nightmares?"

Lois nodded.  She vaguely remembered Clark mentioning world-wide nightmares.  Some old space alien thing had died and havoc had ensued.  Yadda Yadda.  Same old same old.  That sort of thing seemed to happen so often that it didn't even make good press, so she'd just put it out of her head and gotten on with the day.

"The League met today to assess the damage.  Batman was there, of course.  We…well, he and I-"

"Oh, let me guess, you walked right up to him and played a little grab-ass?"  Lois snapped, suddenly impatient with this game.

"Fingers."

"What?  Clark, what the hell are you-"

Clark began walking forward, one slow step at a time.  He licked his lips, remembering.  "Not his ass. His fingers.  He's very sensitive there.  It's one of the reasons he wears gloves all the time."

Clark let his mind drift back to this afternoon.  Bruce had been seated at the computer, running some search or other.  Clark had gone to him, ostensibly to check on his progress.  Bruce had ignored him, just grunting to acknowledge the bigger man's presence.

But then he'd handed Clark a disc.

Clark couldn't resist.  He'd trailed his fingers lightly along Bruce's, capturing one finger between thumb and index, stroking gently.  Tugging. This is what I'll do to you, he'd been thinking.  I'll touch you and tease you and you'll be so hard under my fingers…

Bruce's heart rate skyrocketed, a quiet grunt stifled in his throat.  Clark gently took the disc from the gloved hand, and nearly dropped it when a sly fingertip sneaked out and teased his palm.  God.  He'd gotten so hot, so hard from that one little fingertip.  Embarrassed, achingly aroused, he'd had to turn away, find some excuse to leave the room before his erection drew the rest of the team's attention.

He was hard again, now, just thinking about it.  Rau, what that man could do to him.

Coming back to himself, he placed his hands on the counter that separated the kitchen from the living area.  Lois was on the other side, staring at him.

"God you…Jesus you're actually serious!  Clark, what the hell is this?  Some kind of stupid Kryptonian joke?  Is this how you spend your Friday nights in Smallville?  Sucking off some fag in a fright suit when your wife's away?"

"That's enough!"  For the first time Clark felt anger welling up.  She had no right to demean his life-mate like that.  Clark wouldn't stand for it.  Bruce was his to protect, even from Lois.

"Look, Clark," she began, holding her hands up in front of her.  "Let's just take this one step at a time.  Okay, I'm kind of stunned here.  Understandably, I think.  I mean, I thought you couldn't do that.  I thought you were, you know, genetically bound to your partner.  To me."  The pleading look in her eyes damped down his anger and almost broke his heart.

"I, I just, God I don't know."  He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.  His glasses were…well, somewhere, and he didn't care to track them down and put on the Clark Kent show tonight.  "I just don't know!" he said again, completely frustrated.  "It's not like there's some template out there for me to follow.  I'm it!  There's never been anything like me.  All I know is that you were my mate, then, well, you sort of…weren't."

"Just like that?  Poof?"  Disbelief warred with the tears already starting in her eyes.

"Look, it's not that I don't love you, Lois.  I do.  It's more like we had a trial run and then it just, well, it didn't take."  He gestured vaguely, trying to express this most alien concept with a vocabulary never meant to carry such a meaning.

"Didn't take?!  I didn't take?!  Like a PERM?  Is that all I am?  Just a fucking FASHION STATEMENT!?!"  Her voice rose with every word till she was screaming.

"Lois, no, look," Clark tried to keep his voice level.  God, wasn't there an easier way to do this?  "You know, it might have helped if you hadn't kept rejecting me and shoving me away every chance you got."

"Reject-, oh, you," Lois was fuming, her hands shredding the coffee filters.  "When have I ever rejected anything about you?  How can you stand there with those freaky eyes and your cape in the closet and accuse me of-"

"Freaky?  There's nothing wrong with my eyes, Lois.  This is the way they're supposed to be."  Clark took a deep breath and strove for calm.  "I was referring to the other things.  The way you ran away with your mother after your father died.  Remember?  How you blamed me for not saving his life when Darkseid attacked the Earth?  Or when I was almost killed a few months back and you were in the Middle East-"

"That's right.  I was in the Middle East.  So what?  You knew I was going there to cover the war!  And as I recall, while I was gone, you had a certain Ms Lana Lang come here to give you sponge baths!" she hissed.

"I was almost dead!  Lana was the only one who knew my secret who could spare the time to care for me while I recovered."

"Oh, so what you're saying is that you want a little stay-at-home wifey?  Hm?  Someone to cook your meals and iron your cape?  Well forget it buster, 'cause you can just TAKE your bullshit, backwater, chauvinistic attitude-"

"No I'm NOT saying that and you know it.  But not even a phone call?  Lois, I left messages with your field agent, surely you received them…"

"I was busy covering a war!  And speaking about wars, let's talk about my father.  Let's really talk about him.  Because I still just can't believe you'd let him die just because he was a member of Luthor's cabinet."

"Lois!"  Clark was shocked.  Absolutely stunned.  Is that what she'd believed all this time?  "Lois I wasn't even on the planet when your father died.  I was in space, trying to keep the doomsday machines from destroying billions of lives on Earth!"

"And meanwhile me and mine were the ones to suffer!  I'm your wife!  That's supposed to mean something, Clark!"  She poked a sharp finger at his chest.  "When my family's in danger, it's YOUR job to look out for them.  That's the deal!  What good is it to be married to Superman if he won't even keep your family alive?!"

Clark just took a step back, staggered by the words.  Was that how she saw their marriage?  A contract?  Affection given when payment was delivered?  Clark felt cold all over.  He took another step back.  The gulf opening between himself and his wife was wider than he'd ever thought.  He was lost, alone.  God, he'd really never gotten it.  He never guessed that humans traded their hearts like this.  Had his Ma and Pa been anomalies?  Was real love really so rare?

Lois was speaking again, reaching out to him, but his hearing had spiked and the cacophony of the city drowned out her words.  No.  He didn't want the pity on her face.  He didn't want the hand reaching towards him.  He just needed something, anything to make sense.  Rau, he was so lost.  So fucking alone.  His muscles spasmed and he fought to keep the pain off of his face.  Don't show weakness.  Get out.  Find home.  Safety, must get to safety.

The world was spinning now, blurring in front of his eyes.  He covered his face, choking back a sob of terror.  His whole world was churning out of control, his connection to humanity gone.  Snapped with words and the knowledge that he'd never been to her what he'd always assumed.  God he hurt so much.  His muscles were curling into tight little fists under his skin and he burned.  Oh God he needed, help, please he needed-

Fierce, searing kisses trailed up his neck, firm lips teased his jaw, and finally a warm tongue licked insistently into his mouth.  Clark opened his eyes and found himself sprawled on a hard floor, surrounded and consumed by the one man who could make the world make sense.

"Bruce," he groaned into the other man's mouth.

"Shhh, Clark.  There, there…" the Dark Knight whispered.  "I've got you now.  I've got you forever."  One arm was wrapped under Clark, supporting his shoulders, while a strong, sure hand was gently exploring his chest, arms, and stomach.  With each stroke the cramps seems to ease, till Clark was a warm puddle in Bruce's arms.  Clark sighed and rested his head against Bruce's chest.  Yes.  Forever sounded good.

"Bruce, how, where are we?"  he mumbled, just to fill the silence.

"In the Cave.  You came barreling in here so fast I almost didn't get the security measures down in time."

Clark sat up, trickling shards of glass all over the floor and Bruce's cape.  Bruce sat back on his knees and used one gloved hand to flick more glass out of Clark's hair.

"Ready to talk about it?" Bruce murmured, his eyes and hands restless on Clark's body.  He'd never tell the big idiot, but he was worried for him.  Clark looked like hell and it scared Bruce to his core.  So he let his hands wander over Clark's body, calming him down, claiming him.  Whatever the hell Clark had been up to, he had no right to do it without Bruce there to back him up.  He gripped Clark's shoulder a little more possessively.

Clark sighed and buried his face in his hands, just letting himself feel Bruce's touch.  "Lois.  I had to, it was time to tell her."

"Ah."  One eyebrow lifted beneath the cowl and the intelligent eyes narrowed as he pieced together the rest of the story.  "So, start talking."

"Start talk--Bruce you hate talking.  You're the only man I know who insists that criminals draft an outline for their confessions so you can spend less time listening to them!"  Clark grunted slightly as he gained his feet, broken shards raining in a sheet onto the cave floor.

"Of course I know what happened," Bruce sighed and flowed to his own feet.  "I could probably have provided you with a script for God's sake.  The point is you still need to talk about it.  Now, start with all this," he gestured vaguely to the mess on the floor.

"Oh, damn.  The windows."  Clark held his arms out, examining the glass imbedded in his clothes.  "I must have, hell I must have crashed right through them."

Bruce grunted absently as he gestured his butler to join them.  "Lois will have difficulty explaining the huge hole in a thirteenth story window without a body in evidence on the street below."

"Ha ha.  Very funny."  Clark peeled his glass infested shirt off and dropped it on the floor.  "You know, you're lucky I took 'Humor of the Dark One' in college, or I'd never know when you were joking."

Alfred took one look at the situation and immediately started muttering about clothing sizes and industrial strength vacuums.  Clark turned to greet him and was surprised when the thin English man had already disappeared.  "Is that a requirement for working here?  The spooky disappearing thing?  'Cause I'm not sure I could pull it off…"

Bruce suppressed an exasperated sigh.  Clark was stalling.  He grimaced slightly and raised his hands to his face, unmasking himself.  This usually pushed Clark into more personal waters.  And if this didn't work well, Bruce allowed his eyes to caress Clark's bare chest.  Perfectly muscled, gorgeous, really, and unlike Bruce's own smooth chest Clark's was lightly sprinkled with crisp, dark hair.  Really, whether or not Clark opened up, Bruce was determined to get his hands on that chest tonight.  He imagined wrapping his bare fingers in that hair and tugging, feeling Clark's body arching under him.  Mmmm, and then he'd lean over, burying his face in Clark's neck, learning his scent, trailing his lips and tongue down to a hard nipple, breathing wetly on the swollen nub-

"Bruce."  Clark's voice broke into his thoughts.  "You know, if I wanted to talk without worrying if someone was listening I could've gone to see my insurance agent."

Bruce started and flicked his gaze to Clark's amused face.  It was so good to see even a little smile on Clark's face that it took a minute to register that without the cowl, Clark could easily see where Bruce's thoughts had been wandering.  "Talk," he rasped a bit hoarsely.

"Fine, fine.  Look, all she said was, I mean-"

"That she loved you and was willing to forgive you for not being human."  Clark's pants were still covered in glass bits.  There was no hope for them.  They had to come off.

"Yeah.  I mean no.  I, well, she might have gotten to that-"

"If you hadn't gone crashing through the window."  And where were Clark's shoes?  Seeing the big man curl his bare toes as he tried to find the words was…well God it was kinda cute.  Charming, in a little boy kind of way.  It actually reminded him of Kyle.  Bruce inhaled sharply as a vision of Clark and Kyle naked on his bed swamped him.  Naked and tied together with black leather straps.  Lots of leather.  Oh, and some sort of magical something to counter Clark's strength.  Yeah.

"Well, um, yes.  But Bruce, the things she said!"

"Mm.  Terrible."  They'd be moaning and struggling a little, just enough to start rubbing up against each other.  They needed to get free, but their arms were tied behind their backs.  So they'd arch a little, embarrassed at the awkward closeness.  They'd strain, trying to find some way to undo their hands.  Kyle would shove harder with his hips, pulling a surprised hiss from Clark.  Then they'd both freeze, staring at each other with wide eyes.  What was going on?  They were guys.  Two straight, really very straight guys.  It's just the adrenaline, the closeness, they'd decide.  So they'd start struggling, wriggling.  Clark would bite his lip, trying to ignore his erection as he pushed harder against Kyle.  Kyle would break first, his green eyes half closed as an entirely different moan escaped his swollen lips.

"I don't know.  Maybe she was right.  I mean, I am the reason our marriage failed, after all.  I must be.  Maybe it was more than just not being human enough?"

"Don't ever think that."  Bruce shook his head to clear it and took a step closer.  He laid his hand over Clark's heart.  "You could never have satisfied her.  Remember your dream?"

"Yeah, with the 'human' Clark?  I mean, you're right, you're always right, but I still feel responsible."

Kyle's moan would electrify Clark, causing him to exhale sharply and rub himself deliberately against the smaller man.  Oh God, what was happening to them?  They shouldn't be wanting this.  They couldn't want this.  They were tied up, helpless.  They needed to escape but oh this felt so good, so tight, God please let him push again, yessss, oh more, oh dear God why was this happening?

Then Kyle would whimper and throw his head back, exposing his gorgeous neck.  Clark would struggle, God he'd try and turn away but Kyle's musky arousal would draw him, nostrils flared, closer to the beating pulse.  He didn't want this, he'd never, but his tongue would wet the skin, his teeth would bite into Kyle's vulnerable softness, claiming him.  Their hard bodies would writhe, needing to come, oh don't stop, oh fuck, yes, more, please harder, please yes, yes!

Bruce found himself tongue fucking the hottest, wettest mouth he'd ever imagined.  His hands were buried in Clark's soft curls, holding the taller man's face for better access.  He writhed a bit himself and discovered huge, gentle hands kneading his ass, pulling him close to rub against Clark's hard shaft.  The Batsuit was driving him crazy.  He needed to get out of it now.

Clark pulled away slightly and his deep chuckle brought Bruce partially back to reality.  "I guess I used up my word quota for the night?"

Bruce's hands impatiently fumbled at Clark's pants.  "Glass.  Off.  Now."

"Oh is that what you were doing?"  Clark teased, slowly rimming Bruce's ear with a slick tongue.

"Uh.  Bed."  Bruce was reduced to grunts and moans.  Clark could use that perfectly alien tongue anywhere he damn well wanted to as far as Bruce was concerned.

Clark's pants slid down his hard, muscled legs, and his boxers went right after them.  Bruce's gloved hand wrapped around Clark's hard shaft, pumping hard once, twice.

"Oh!"  Clark tossed his head back and bit his lip, his eyes closed to savor the pleasure.  "Yes, just a little more like, mmph, yessss.  Oh, Bruce you're so good, God, how the hell do I get you out of this thing?"

Clark's fingers fumbled at the catches on Bruce's armor.  Bruce let go, batted Clark's hands away, and began stripping in record time.  Faster than the time Joker's acid was eating through his suit.  Maybe faster than when he was trapped under water and couldn't fit through the drainage tunnel.  Possibly even faster than  ...oh.  Clark had walked around behind him as he was stripping and was fingering the sensitive skin at the back of Bruce's neck.

Then he struck, strong teeth holding fast to Bruce's nape, rocking the big man forward with the strength of it.  God yes!  Endorphins flooded his system as pleasure and pain spiked inside him.  Almost finished.  Move hip clasp left first, then right to disable electric shock.  Now pull, step, almost, please Clark touch me!

Bruce's inarticulate pleas were answered as Clark pressed his naked body against Bruce's own.  Clark's throbbing erection thrust up between Bruce's firm cheeks and Clark pumped his hips slowly up and down.  The heat sizzled and flared between them and Bruce moaned in ecstasy.

Boots!  God why were his boots so impossible to get off!

Clark just growled low in his throat, picked up Bruce, boots and all, and flung them up in the air, up the stairs, and into Bruce's bedroom.  He dropped Bruce onto the wide, soft bed, the one luxury that Bruce afforded himself.

Clark stripped off the pesky boots and stretched himself over Bruce, covering the big man with his powerful body, nibbling on his neck, claiming his mouth, thrusting his tongue back into the warm wetness where it belonged.

No!  Bruce rolled them sharply, clamping his knees around Clark's hips, grabbing Clark's face and thrusting his own tongue into Clark's mouth.  It was time for Kal-El to be claimed.  Bruce would show him that that the alien had no choice.  He'd never be allowed to wander from this bed the way he'd lost himself from Lois'.

Bruce bit Clark's lip savagely, his fingers now running lower on Clark's chest, scratching and twisting the hardened nipples there.  Clark bucked and moaned under him, and Bruce gloried in the strength, the power he had over this man.  Yes, Clark had come here to be comforted, and now Kal-El was here to be dominated.  He would be claimed, marked, owned.  He would belong.

Bruce grasped the alien's wrists and shoved them up to the headboard, keeping them there with strength of will alone.

Clark's eyes would have widened in apprehension, and Clark's mind would have started whirling, trying to find the angles, figuring what this savage man might want and how to find a compromise.

Clark was gone.

Kal-El glared fiercely up at the piercing blue eyes over him.  His own eyes began to shine, gathering light from the shadowy gloom and reflecting it back into the room.  Bruce watched as the pupils mutated, a starburst pattern of white light rising up through the dark center to etch the blue irises with fire.

Bruce stared into that gaze, the alien defying him with his eyes.  "Make me," dared Kal-El.

So Bruce stealthily slipped one hand under a pillow, slipped the object onto a finger, and smacked his palm against Kal's ribs.

An unearthly scream tore out of Kal's throat.  Electricity scorched and arced along his body and he shuddered with the force of it.   Bruce shuddered too, faint electrical charges zipping and thrilling along his nerves.  He'd theorized that Superman's invulnerable body would absorb most of the charge.  It was always nice to be right.  He took his hand from Kal's side and felt the man collapse beneath him.  Bruce's own cock was straining and twitching from the stimulation.

Kal opened his eyes and parted his lips to say…something.  Kal's eyes were literally shining, brilliant, his lips swollen, his cock hard and pulsing against his tormenter's ass.

Bruce didn't wait for the words and pressed the electrode over Kal's nipple.  Again Kal screamed, hands fisting in the pillow at his head, body writhing between Bruce's hard thighs.  Oh yes, the power.  The unbelievable rush of controlling this man, forcing those moans and screams of pleasure.

Kal was pumping his hips now, straining to rub his cock against Bruce's back.  Words were spilling from the trembling lips, but they weren't anything human.  Bruce removed the hand with the electrode and reached with his left under the other pillow, pulling out a small bottle of lube.  Quickly, efficiently, he coated his fingers and then slid down Kal's stomach, tracing the edge of the electrode around a sensitive nipple.

Kal sobbed, expecting, waiting for the next charge.  Instead Bruce thrust one finger, then two deep into Kal's center.  Kal bucked and squirmed, trying to get Bruce deeper into him.  This was the dangerous point.  Now, when Bruce had stripped this man of his human responses, reduced him to his basic, animal self, now Bruce was in danger.

The thrill of it seared through his gut, coiling at the base of his erection.  Kal might loose control.  Kal could hurt him by simply not paying attention.  One muscle spasm could end it all in blood and pain, a third finger went in and the alien started crooning.  Deep tones twined with high pitched notes, several octaves sounding at once.  Alien vocal cords loosened and thrummed as human fingers sought and found…whatever the Kryptonian equivalent to a prostate was and yes!

The weird croon was growing louder and Bruce's own erection was aching, huge and tight enough to split the skin, weeping pre-come down the hard shaft.

He withdrew his fingers and lined up his hips, moving into the searing alien core in one smooth thrust.  Kal bucked and grasped Bruce tightly inside of him, hands shredding the pillow.  Bruce threw his head back and screamed at the heat, the intensity of fucking this beautiful man.  Once, twice, he thrust, he was going to come, please let Kal be close because no human could stand this for long, oh God, oh Kal please, please!

He reached forward and pumped Kal's straining erection and almost fainted when the Kal opened his mouth wide, the croon exploding into a multi-octave scream, searing hot come splattering across the muscled chest and stomach below him.

The subsonics twisted deep in Bruce's bones and he screamed louder, helplessly thrusting and pumping his come deep into Kal's throbbing body.

Finally it ended, and Bruce collapsed on his lover's chest.  He was slick-wet with sweat, but the only moisture on Kal was the man's semen and drops of Bruce's own sweat.  Bruce stared intently into Kal's eyes as the alien slowly came back to himself.  Two sets of blue eyes, one dark and shadowed, one starburst bright, gazed at each other.

Then Kal smiled a lazy, gorgeous grin.  "Can I touch you now?" he murmured.

Bruce smiled wickedly back.  This was going to be a great night.  He slithered down Kal's belly and began lapping at the semen there.

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

Epilogue:

Kyle stood staring up at Clark's building.  It was 11:30 at night and he'd had a day.  And an evening to boot.  Now he just wanted to talk to his friend.

He lowered his gaze to the smashed desk in the middle of the street, surrounded by an explosion of shattered glass.  Then he looked back up at the broken window.  Using his Ring, Kyle made a pair of binoculars and zoomed in on the damage.  Yup, thirteenth floor all right.  Kyle thought back to his painting that he'd, well, sort of slept-created last night, and then remembered his conversation with Lois this morning.

She had been brusque, curt, and to the point.  Understandable when one was woken early, thought Kyle.  He was barely fit to be called human until his first cup of coffee, too.  But she'd left no doubt in his mind that Clark wasn't going to be getting any messages from former Justice League buddies at 6 am.  And now surveying the wreckage of the Kent's apartment (she'd really gone to town in there) Kyle guessed Clark was nowhere in the vicinity.

Sigh  How did a former Leaguer go about getting in touch with Superman when he'd just been tossed out by his wife?  Kyle shook his head, activated his Ring again, and flew back to New York.

Once inside his apartment, he flipped on the lights and started sorting his mail.  Bill, bill, junk, bill, tickets-

Tickets?

Kyle held them up to the weak light in the room.  He needed to fix that other lamp.  Hell, he needed to scrap the lamp and buy a whole new one.  Instead, a green glow emanated from his ring, and Kyle read the front of the tickets.

One was for a box office seat to Le Miserable.  And the other was a plane ticket.  To Gotham.  Tomorrow night.

Kyle looked up in astonishment and saw what he'd missed before; a batarang stuck into his living room wall.  Under the tip of the 'rang, like an arrow out of Robin Hood, was a note.  Kyle pulled the weapon out with a grunt and recovered the note.

//Show starts at 6pm.  Plane leaves at three.  You'll be picked up from the airport and driven to the restaurant.  Wear something nice.//

Kyle was stunned.  He dropped the note and stared numbly around his apartment.  Batman had been here?  In his home?  Was he still here?  The spooky shadows curled around the room, possibly hiding the entire Bat-clan for all Kyle knew.

And the tickets?  What the hell?  He sort of remembered helping Clark and Bat - Bruce out last night during that dreamscape thing.  Maybe Bruce was trying to say thank you?  Kyle shrugged.  He hoped Clark would be there, at least.  Hell, the tickets were probably Clark's idea.

Heartened by that thought, Kyle wandered into his bedroom and turned on the lights.  And froze.  Another note-bearing batarang was stuck into his closet door.

//Never mind.  Something will be delivered.//

Kyle blinked, then started laughing.  He laughed until tears started streaming down his cheeks and he had to sit down.  God, the image of Batman, tall, dark, infinitely spooky, stalking through his room, pushing clothes aside on hangers and tisking to himself over the state of Kyle's wardrobe.

Kyle was holding his ribs.  Oh, oh dear.  Must stop laughing…

He sighed finally and flopped down on his bed, fighting off another surge of the giggles.  Yeah, this was probably going to be just fine.


To be continued…


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