A Lifting Fog: Commentary
Aug. 22nd, 2006 06:07 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
shankieContinued entries from the commentary meme, A Lifting Fog, for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
tmelange: the same person that kicked this supposed one-shot into an ongoing series. :)
Commentary is on the first five segments, all that has been posted as of this post.
This story is very NC-17, and so are my comments.
Comics canon is a scary thing. Despite being a holder of way more useless information about continuity than is healthy, I found it very daunting. Going through a batch of books just to clarify one point or another just... no. Heh. So generally, I stick to DCAU for the ease of knowing I've gotten details right, and of course, for the brilliant characterizations.
However, there is always exceptions. And this became one of them. When I first read the issue of Action Comics this all came from, I went to the next issue... and there was no mention of the event. Nor have I ever seen or heard of Clark, Barda, Scott, or anyone ever talking about the fact that Clark and Barda may or may not have slept together.
My brain could not let this rest.
This was compounded by the startling page of interaction between Bruce and Clark after Scott's supposed death and funeral. I'd never seen anything about Scott and Bruce having even known each other... and yet, there he was. In mourning, as is rarely seen for him so blatantly.
What was up with that? Bruce doesn't easily call someone friend, and it just begged to be explored.
Both these ideas simmered on the backburner, and something happened where they just fell into each other, and became a single little plotbunny bouncing around. A little while later, I wrote the first three segments.
Fog
Like looking through murky glass, he saw himself move over her, free the plate of metal, run a hand over her strong torso before returning to her breast. He couldn't look into her eyes, but gazed on her skin instead.
A voice somewhere directed, and he followed, sucking on her nipple as a long leg wrapped around him and pushed his still-trapped erection hard against the cold shield of the brief covering she still wore.
Then she was above him, curling the stray lock of his hair that fell across his forehead in her fingers, and he could imagine nothing but worshipping her for the rest of his days.
Obviously, flashback to the actual sex, which I decided did happen. It's often the way, in DC, for characters to... suddenly un-forget mindwipey things. And since, in the issue itself, there was never a clear intention of having the two forget everything that happened, I just had them both remember, in full explicit detail.
Clark woke up with a start, gasping and grasping his sweat-beaded face in his hand. The dreams became more vivid every night, and as he got up, splashing cool water on his skin, they were burned in his memory clearly.
He'd seen Scott yesterday, when he'd gone to the newly built New York embassy of the Justice League. They'd asked, again, if he wanted to join them. But how could he?
Metropolis needed him. And he didn't need to get involved in another family, only to see it torn apart. On his way out, he'd caught the sound of a familiar heartbeat lurking in the shadows, and wondered if the feeling was a shared one.
This train of thought is very scattered intentionally, jumping from one idea to the next to try and portray the actual confusion Clark was going through without beating the reader over the head with it.
He took a quick shower and pulled on his uniform, flying around the dark city, finding only sleepy quiet with a few clusters of people outside of bars and nightclubs, laughing with a kind of drunken abandon or pulling each other aside into alleys and hideaways out of sight.
Out of almost everyone's sight, but Superman turned his eyes away and flew higher in the atmosphere, until he was in floating in the impossible stillness and silence of space, looking down at Earth as a thin sheet of ice began to slowly form on his skin.
I've been in love with the image of Clark floating above the Earth, with ice forming on his skin as he watches the life below. It's the image of a quintessential outsider longing to be a part of what he's seeing, and it's tragically romantic.
He thought about the way a fiery reporter's eyes twinkled when she talked to his mask, and the casual dismissal of himself as a man. About his responsibilities, about the weight of the world, and why he had no right to be consumed with this sort of thought.
My problem with most superhero wives: they marry the superhero, not the man underneath. Generally speaking. This was thrown in because I was very much thinking about the difference between Clark & Lois's marriage and Scott & Barda's at this point; even though this story takes place before he ever even dates Lois.
There was man he'd met some time ago, that seemed to consume all of the shadows of the world and made them his extension, and thus, Clark felt him everywhere, a presence he couldn't shake himself of. That he hadn't seen so much as felt nearby with increasing regularity. Surely he never allowed himself this sort of distraction.
In his first years of wearing the red cape, he'd often thought about what Batman would or wouldn't do. Sometimes judging by one, sometimes by the other. He was in his own now, and didn't often think that way anymore. But he didn't stop thinking about the man.
Bruce as a set of ideals and images, as opposed to an actual real person. I'd imagine it'd be very easy for memory to bring him up that way, with the pure force of mysterious personality that comes off him. on their first meeting, it very much struck me that Clark was still learning what it was to even be a hero, and Bruce knew exactly what was up, and that must have stuck to him over the years.
Clark focused his vision, and found him after some searching, miles below swinging through the air on a long tether, landing lightly and racing across a rooftop before he was airborne again.
No, he would never let himself get distracted.
He bit his lip and thought of the bewitching way Barda's hair fell across her back, smooth and black. He was very distracted.
This had to be addressed somehow.
* * *
The Home of Scott and Barda
It was in that mind that Clark left work that next afternoon, loosening his tie and trading it for a cape and soaring through the clouds north.
Both of these clothing items represent the two masks Clark wears; neither is the real person. That Superman and Batman, Clark Kent and Bruce Wayne, are the outside edges to the actual person underneath is a common theme in my musings and I think it comes through a lot in my writing.
New York's suburbs and population died out to mountains and trees, and a short time later he was standing in front of a modest home in the rurals of New Hampshire, looking around and self-conciously knocking on the door.
I still get a huge kick out of the fact that Scott & Barda live in New Hampshire... I mean, I live in New Hampshire. Crazy. Heh.
The address had been easy enough to get, once he'd been able to tear Beetle's attention away from whatever mischief he was up to with Booster while he was supposed to be on monitor duty.
My, how the League had changed.
I wanted this to be set during a time period where Clark wasn't involved with the League, at his most singular, to accentuate the separation he was feeling from everyone else. That even in the superhero community, he was something of an outsider, if a hugely respected and admired one.
Clark looked up as Barda answered the door, towering over him in a pair of jeans and white t-shirt that clung to her curves just a little too tightly. Her hair was drawn up in a ponytail and her hands had the tangy smell of working with metal on them.
I will never, ever, get over the fact that Barda is way taller than Clark.
"Superman, a pleasant surprise." She stood aside and gestured for him to come in, and he stepped forward hesitantly at first, still not entirely sure what he was doing here. "My husband is in the basement, playing with his toys."
Heh. His 'toys' being, of course, a nod to the fact that it's Bruce down there with him.
"I came to see you, actually."
He sat on a couch, looking around at the surprising... ordinary-ness of their home. Scott and Barda were considered akin to gods on New Genesis, but here their lives appeared to be simple and resoundingly human. Clark fingered the petals of a daisy in a bouquet sitting next to him in a glass vase.
The fact that Scott is a god, literally, and he and Barda come from a childhood that is almost inhuman next to life on Earth, not just alien, is always striking to me. Why it is that he always returns here, and is much happier on Earth than in his godhood on New Genesis. When he's there, it's like he turns into EmoScott. But on Earth, he surrounds himself with a mixture of the ordinary and the extraordinary in a way that really works for both he and Barda.
I think all that would really make an impression on Clark, as I've portrayed him here, feeling very much like an outsider.
Barda settled down across from him, perching like a queen in the wood chair.
"This is about what occurred in the Suicide Slums, is it not?"
Clark looked away out the window for a moment, then back at her.
"Yes, actually, it is." He found himself fidgeting a little. "I'm sorry if I shouldn't have come here."
"Where else would you have gone?" She arched an eyebrow and smirked. "The video store?"
Writing the Clark of this era as nervous was a tricky move, but having him be subtly so worked, so I ran with it in several places. That Clark was him at his most ballsy, but after all... he's just a man. A man notoriously inept when it comes to relationships beyond friendship. XD
He couldn't help but laugh at that, and felt grateful for the levity.
"Barda... I remember what happened."
She stood up then, standing in front of him and looking down, and gently tipped up his head with a hand on his chin.
The image of Barda tipping up Scott's chin to talk to him stuck with me very strongly after watching The Ties That Bind, hence it's re-use here a few times. It represents Barda's gentle domination of them all to me. Heh.
"As do I, Kryptonian. And somehow I think these memories were not found... undesirable." Clark's breath caught and he found himself unable to find a suitable reply. "There are many understandings in his home, Kal-El. We are people of New Genesis, and it is not without precedent that another joins in the celebration of my marriage to Scott."
Finding a way to refer to Scott and Barda's marital sex, with the sometimes other-worldly dialogue that Barda uses, was a trick at first. I came to like this way of doing it.
"I..."
She put her index finger softly across his lips, then walked over to the kitchen.
"Tea?"
"N...no thank you."
He watched her pour hot water into a mug with a little cartoon fish on it, then sit back down again.
"The initial... discomfort with our situation has passed, Kal-El. And this is why you came here, isn't it?"
"Please... call me Clark."
Her lips twitched into a smile.
She's a smart girl, and she totally gets what it means for him to give her his name to use like that. Even over the years, not many people call him Clark in uniform. I put a big weight on name usage sometimes.
"Clark."
He smiled back, and despite the fact he was still wearing his uniform, he felt very much like himself.
"And... yes, I suppose that is why I came here. Maybe. I don't know why I did, actually."
She nodded.
"Then know, if you wish to join us... we've already discussed the possibility, Clark. And you wouldn't be turned away by us."
He blushed and looked down at the floor.
"I... I mean... I would... I just..."
"You're so cute when you're nervous." She said merrily. "It isn't my intent to make you so, but it's rather fetching on the Man of Steel."
Clark looked up curiously.
"You've discussed it?"
"Yes. We keep no secrets or hidden feelings here, they breed only distrust and weakness. It's been discussed."
I've never explicitly read this as being their policy; but it's like, they don't have to even say it. Barda and Scott have been through far too much in their lives to let petty things get in the way of their lives, and if they're anything, it's honest with each other.
"Oh." The idea was at once comforting and unsettling. He didn't think he was quite up to the idea of having this become a discussion between the three of them. "I..." He thought about his empty bed, and the memory of her body commanding his own. "I think I might... be interested."
She got up again, leaning down from her intimidating height to brush her fingers under his chin again, and capture his lips in a heady kiss.
"Then there is one more thing." Barda opened a door and leaned down into it slightly. "Scott, we have a guest. And bring Bruce with you."
Bruce? Clark frowned and listened in spite of himself. The familiar heartbeat and light steps of Scott Free walking up the stairs. And...
It couldn't be.
Two black haired, blue-eyed men stepped past Barda, both impressive in their physique and mere presence filling the room. Scott had longer sideburns, a pair of stained work pants and a green t-shirt on, looking at him with a friendly greeting smile. The other wore black, sharp and immaculate, with a hard gaze that seemed to pierce right through him.
It was at this point in the story that I realized everyone involved were all gorgeous black-haired blue-eyed superheroes, and some of the most formidable in the DCU. It's an awesome image to me, having them together like that. Like, almost poetic to picture, and sure added to writing them together. And totally an accident.
Familiar in some other way... and it took a moment before Clark realized it was Bruce Wayne. Without the easy smile and crowds of glittering socialites. He was Batman.
Clark's mouth went dry.
Suddenly, this wasn't just about Barda at all. It was about a million different conflicting emotions that made butterflies in his stomach. It felt like an initiation into a closed, small group of Earthbound gods, and Clark wished very much he felt more like Superman just then.
Bruce looked very much like Batman.
Clark shifted.
Since I'd previously been having Clark almost looking up to Bruce as an example, at least in the past, I figured the only possible initial reaction he could have here was intimidation. But more than that, too. Like Bruce had been that collection of ideals and ability, and all of a sudden he was more real, and Clark began reacting to that reality defensively.
"A place without secrets, and you're here?" He said without thinking.
Bruce narrowed his eyes slightly.
"He's under the impression you're a possible threat, begrudgingly open to your presence. Likely with a mind you could be more easily watched that way," Barda said, then sipped at her tea, "I wouldn't taunt him."
Scott laughed, slapping Bruce on the back and walking into the kitchen to wash his hands. Bruce didn't move, still eyeing him darkly. He stood there, even as Barda and Scott sat down next to Clark on the couch, with Barda running her hand over Clark's thigh.
And, of course, Barda and Scott defuse the situation before it becomes a situation. With the sexy.
"No secrets. No lies. And nothing leaves these walls; nothing." Bruce's look shifted over to Barda, and Clark followed suit, finding her eyes deep and honest. "It is about pleasure, but it is also about celebrating life. Do you want this?"
"Yes," he whispered, almost surprised when he said it.
"You two will have to become comfortable with one another," she replied, "else it will never work."
They looked at each other again, and Bruce lifted his chin slightly, perhaps a bit defiantly. Barda's hand ran over his crotch and he sucked in a breath. Next to him, Scott had leaned closer, wrapped around Barda, but watching him almost curiously.
He didn't know if he could do this.
"Bruce," Barda said, soft but commanding.
Barda's control of this situation was something I didn't entirely expect, but came naturally as I was working with the group dynamic. They're all very strong-willed leaders, but Barda has a talent for winning those types over; or not being at all impressed by it. Also, as the only woman in the group, it all has a kind of symmetry to their physical interaction that way.
Clark's eyes got a little wider when he very unexpectedly responded, wordlessly approaching him with a calculating edge. Bruce knelt with one knee in between Clark's legs, leaning close over his face. He could smell cologne, sweat, and traces of grease from Scott's workshop on his skin.
"You dared to come to my city," Bruce growled, "You dared to sit in judgement of me."
"Your methods are extreme, I don't know if I can always condone your actions," Clark replied tersely, in spite of himself.
"You calling anything I do 'extreme' is laughable. Nobody should wield the power you do."
"Are you afraid you can't stop me?"
Typical macho sizing-up of each other, with added sexy. I knew they'd have to clear the air about their differences before they'd be able to be closer and not have it be... tense.
Bruce lifted his face slightly, and smirked.
"We'll have to cross that bridge when we come to it." He leaned close to Clark's ear, and then whispered. "I knew you would come here, eventually. Clark." He then bit his ear, and now there were two hands slipping underneath his uniform, and one tangled in his hair.
Clark leaned his head back and moaned.
"You tricked me before," he said.
"I'm sure it'll happen again," Bruce intoned.
That he believed.
Barda stood up, pulling Scott with her, apparently a signal that they were taking this somewhere else. Bruce stood and offered his hand with an arrogant smile on his face, and Clark took it, laughing.
The man was unbelievable.
They had large bed, predictably needed to suit all seven feet of Barda, and apparently a third frequent partner. When they got there, Barda took Clark away from Bruce with a grin, and left Scott to touch Bruce with a kind of gentle familiarity.
First actual working with the Bruce/Scott dynamic more physically. I wanted to get across that, although they have sex with each other, that's secondary in their relationship.
Barda laughed, deep and loud, and tugged off his shirt and cape, pinching playfully at his nipples and interrupting with frequent kisses. He bit at her lip and unbuttoned her jeans, tugged down the zipper and slid his hand underneath.
He couldn't believe this was really happening.
Another hard pinch on his left butt-cheek made it a little easier. It actually hurt a little, which only aroused him further. Few people, and fewer women, had the power to hurt him so casually. And she knew it.
Had to throw the pinching in; because it's true. Not a whole lot of people could just playfully pinch Clark and have it actually hurt. Physical reinforcement of her position in the group.
They were quickly naked on the bed... and so were Bruce and Scott. They traded touches and kisses back and forth a while, until Clark worked up the nerve to lean over Bruce's face underneath their partners, and follow their example with a kiss. At first guarded, then open and deep.
Hints that Clark is surprised by the relationship between Bruce and Scott, and that it was what made him feel confidant enough to do that.
And surprisingly sweet.
They were all lost in each other, as he was pulled between probing Barda with his tongue, biting along a scarred chest, exploring dark hair with his fingers and an erection with his lips. Hands, fingers, and all of much the same treatment were all returned with aching slowness.
Group sex is chaotic. This being my first go at it, it came off that way in style, and I liked it that way.
It had to be hours that passed like that, and Clark quickly learned that they fell to Barda's direction. To which he offered no complaint. At that point, Barda pulled Scott underneath her, leaving Bruce looking over at Clark with lust-filled eyes.
And again he moved in silence, with a predatory motion and striking determination. He flipped Clark over swiftly, scratching his nails into his back. When he began stroking him, then thrusting in slick and hot, it was as everything else had been... slow, unhurried.
And gaining a second wind.
He sucked on Scott's fingers, groaning into them. Someone was stroking his erection, and Bruce was grunting as he pushed in again.
Sometimes throw in sexual acts being done, without really being sure who the giver or the recipient is, to try and convey the tangled-ness of it all. Did this a couple times. I think that might be my favourite part of writing a foursome. It's very erotic in a very dirty kind of way.
Bruce came yelling Clark's name, then, still breathless, flipped him back over and began sucking him feverishly. Barda had his hands pinned over his head as she continued grinding against Scott, but he could barely see them, or even Bruce, just the dark wood ceiling above them. Clark curled his toes into the sheets and strained against Barda as he came.
Inside of Batman's stoic exterior, there is Bruce Wayne: Sex Machine. Also, this was the point where the group sex dynamic got easier for me, and came more naturally as four people having sex, not trying to combine two different couples. Although that is a part of this. I wanted to have the pairings in the couples overlap, Barda/Scott Bruce/Clark Barda/Clark Bruce/Scott as primaries, like some kind of geometric shape being bent around.
They were all tangled together soon after that, all sweaty and breathless. Scott was under Barda's arm and between Bruce's legs as Bruce was leaning on Clark's chest eying him with a deceptively dispassionate look. His continued rapid heart rate said something else. Barda tugged at Clark's hair gently and smiled with he looked over.
"Let it never be said I have nothing for which to thank Darkseid," she said with a smirk, and Scott chuckled, "although I never will."
One by one, they got up, showered, changed, and found themselves sitting in the kitchen drinking coffee. Barda sat on the counter behind Scott, who stood leaning against her, and Clark sat on an empty stool while Bruce returned to brooding in the corner, albeit with a less defensive air.
And thusly do people return to their default positions... heh. I didn't want to write Bruce as entirely comfortable with Clark's presence yet, but getting there in his way.
Clark hadn't felt this comfortable around others in a very long time.
Scott regaled them with stories about the new League, to which Bruce occasionally added a comment about something else Booster, Beetle, and frequently Guy were up to. As frustrating as it sounded, they were all laughing.
It's totally canon that Bruce makes fun of the JLI crew in private; and with co-workers like that, who wouldn't?
Even Bruce was chuckling, and it seemed that wonders would never cease.
Late afternoon became early evening far too quickly, and Bruce was checking his watch pointedly.
"Do you need a lift back to Gotham?" Clark asked.
"I have my own transportation," he replied.
Batman was returning to his voice and bearing more overtly. He went to go change back into his uniform, and Clark sighed.
As I generally do, I wanted to make the division between Bruce Wayne, "Bruce", and Batman very clear.
"Are you happy you said yes?" Barda asked, with a gleam in her eye. "You're welcome any time."
Clark grinned, and nodded.
"But I should be going, too."
Barda reached out her hand, beckoning Clark over. He got up and took it, letting himself get pulled against Scott and into her kiss, lifted ever so slightly off the floor by the front of his uniform.
He could get used to this.
That line was written as a nod to myself, as I was thinking that I could certainly get used to this. XD
He and Scott clasped hands and shared a moment of mutual deference, and then he turned around, and there was Bruce.
Bruce held Barda's left hand and Scott's right as he kissed her cheek, then his, slowly. He let go and walked out, nodding to Clark as he passed, and was gone.
Writing the goodbyes was harder than writing the sex, for real. How would Bruce say goodbye to his lovers? Especially his male lover? I needed it to be intimate and yet reserved, and somehow about both of them. When I came up with this, I was so relieved to have found that. And, of course, more demonstration that he hasn't quiet let Clark 'in' yet. But that Clark may be closer than he thinks.
Barda just shrugged as Clark made a last goodbye and took off out the front door and into the darkening sky.
He'd expected Barda and Scott, being from another world, to be different. But now, alone with his thoughts, he was blown away by just how different.
What had just happened.
And Bruce.
He felt more alien and more human at the same time, and wondered if that meant... he was more himself.
When this was all said and done, and Clark was flying away, it occurred to me that he'd gone there with no expectations and come away with something hugely incredible, enough to make him feel very strongly about not only the situation, but himself.
* * *
An Invitation to Dinner
A month later, he accepted an invitation for dinner from Scott and Barda, left waiting in his inbox at the Daily Planet. No doubt Bruce had worked it out some time ago. From what little he knew about the man, allowing something to slip past his knowledge didn't seem like something he tolerated.
Writing Clark as knowing Batman, but not really knowing Batman in the way that I'm used to writing him, was tricky. Trying to figure out what traits he'd already seen, and what he would infer, being the smart boy he is. I almost edited out the comment about Bruce, then merely edited it to reflect more inference in the conclusion than actual knowledge.
He set the invitation on his desk, and kept it there for the rest of the day as he played catch-up with his stories... and catch with a jumper who'd tried taking her own life by leaping off the Daily Planet.
She worked delivering packages through the building.
It bothered him that he hadn't noticed something was wrong earlier.
While this is very much about their relationship, and not about their working lives, the two tend to overlap in the hero line of work, and I wanted to reflect not only that, but the deep feeling that Clark has about his responsibilities. Being at a place where he's working alone as Superman, it would only be intensified.
When he flew to Bailey that evening, he changed into civilian clothes and didn't knock right away, but sat on the front porch looking out into the trees. Squirrels were jumping across the branches, chasing each other with twitters and leaps.
He thought about the painting of the mountain over Barda's bed.
No really, there's a painting of a mountain over Barda's bed in Bailey. I saw it and it struck me as almost metaphoric by itself, and even moreso in this context.
Originally, this conversation was between Clark and Barda. Then I realized that Scott, even though he'd been in almost all of this so far, had barely said a word, and changed it.
A moment later, Scott was sitting next to him.
"Something is troubling you."
He half-smiled and shook his head.
"Just... not being able to do everything. Same old, same old."
Scott nodded.
"Not such an unfamiliar thing to hear in this house. How are you handling the burden?"
"I'm Superman. I just have to handle it, and do my best."
He slung his arm across Clark's shoulders and playfully punched him with the other.
"That's what I like to hear. We all must have strength in the face of adversity." Scott smiled and pulled him up.
He followed him into the kitchen, where Barda was cooking, and Scott went back to taking apart the toaster on the counter. There were vegetables sizzling in a pan on the stove and he could smell steak broiling.
"I know you're a vegetarian, I hope there's enough besides the steak."
"You do?"
Barda just winked and stirred a fork around in the pan.
Having Barda cooking was a little joke to myself; because I could only imagine the time Scott must have spent to teach her how, and just what a househusband he can really be.
"Hello, Barda." He walked over and looked over Scott's shoulder at the guts of the toaster.
"Just making some adjustments."
"I believe he's attempting to make it capable of time dilation as well as blackening bread," Barda said with a smirk.
Oh, the toaster. That came from the frustration that I'm sure someone used to super high-tech must have with such simple and relatively crude devices, and I imagined Scott doing everything he could to make them as efficient as possible. Also, Barda's joking line about what else he was trying to do with it? Took a surprising amount of time for me to come up with something silly that worked.
"Show's what you know," Scott replied, lifting an eyebrow at her teasingly.
Clark leaned against the counter and looked over at the table. It was set at four places.
"He'll be here," Barda said, "If he's a man who does anything, it's honour his obligations."
"To the point of absurdity," Scott added as he began screwing the base of the toaster back on, "As I'm sure you've noticed."
An indication that Scott is not aware of just how little Bruce and Clark see each other, and a possible indicator that Bruce talks about Clark? I almost did away with it, but left it open to be interpreted or ignored.
"You've known him longer than I have." And Clark thought, but didn't add, that he barely knew Bruce at all.
Scott plugged the toaster in and popped in two slices of bread to test it out.
"The two of you are a lot more alike than you know."
Clark was going to ask what he meant by that, but Bruce chose the moment to materialize from out of the back of the house. What did they possibly have in common?
Bruce helped them carry food to the table, where they sat down with Clark next to Barda and across from Bruce, who was pointedly avoiding his gaze.
Because the last thing I wanted to do was make it easy for Clark to get close to Bruce. That wouldn't be any fun at all.
Clark fell into the subtle deference they all gave Barda, as plates were passed around and Bruce made quiet noises of appreciation over his steak. Scott talked about going's on with the League, while Barda commented dryly and Bruce occasionally assented to various points.
Clark wondered how long it usually took Bruce to go from grunting to complete sentences. And decided to find out.
"You've taken on a partner since we last officially met," he said to Bruce, spearing some peppers on his fork. "I was surprised to hear it."
"I began training him soon after that," Bruce said, "He's more than capable."
I askedmerfilly about this as confirmation, that, in fact, Dick was not even ten years old when he became Robin. I'm using the early canon age of eight. I wasn't thinking about this much, as all this was still going to be part of a one-shot, but I was thinking about it, and now that it's continuing, Robin will be coming up again soon. Clark's wavering line between approving and disapproving of such a young partner was a theme in many comics from the time period I'm writing about, and I wanted to keep it that way.
"Are you sure?"
Bruce looked up at him sternly.
"You're still inexperienced, and have no right to question my judgement," he said with an air of finality.
"I'm sure it'll happen again," Clark replied, and failed at repressing a smirk.
Bruce paused, then looked up wryly. It wasn't exactly a smile, but it felt like an accomplishment all the same.
Clark has won a minor victory with rhetoric! XD
At least he finally spoke up more as they finished dinner. Near the end, the sense of mutual familiarity was almost off-putting. No secrets.
They put the dishes in sink to be dealt with later, and ended up entangled together on the porch watching the sunset.
Barda sat in the middle of the porch swing, with Clark on her left and Scott on her right. She'd pulled Bruce across their laps and held him there until he stopped struggling.
Then Scott began idly pulling off his shoes and rubbing his feet, and Bruce relaxed his head onto Clark's arm while he talked to Scott about possible upgrades to his security. Clark and Barda quietly listened to them, and Clark wondered how long Bruce had been coming here. And being so different than his public perception, such as it was.
Themes that come up again later on, for further exploration, this whole bit. How it's almost normal, but not quite; but it's definitely a welcome place of comfort for all involved, in their anything-but-normal lives.
It occurred to Clark that Bruce was talking about his home; he'd never thought about Batman's home before. From the sound of it, his house was large; but that wasn't surprising, as wealthy as he was. Bruce mentions the coastline and a cave network being connected and it feels like occult information.
He found himself very much wanting to see it, and wondered if he could manage to follow Bruce home unnoticed. Or at least without making him furious.
It seemed doubtful. But there was something else he could do.
That last sentence was an accident that I didn't pick up on; I'd been planning on using it to lead into later actions, but it didn't happen. So I left it hanging, as if Clark didn't really know what else he could do... but something.
The sun had almost set, Barda picked Bruce up, and set him on his knees in front of her with an arch grin.
"I need a less teasing distraction than that butt of yours on my crotch."
He smirked, then began sucking on the fabric of her jeans.
What Clark remembered later was how he and Scott took turns taking Bruce, on his knees as he pleasured Barda. And wondering in a kind of amazement just how it was such a man came to this. And moreso about how he had, too.
Clark just totally fell into this, and I needed to give him another "woah" moment.
About how Bruce managed to slip away unseen, despite all of Clark's senses.
On his way home, he found him from the atmosphere. Scott offered to let him stay, and perhaps sometime he would, but not tonight.
To me, Clark here is almost rediscovering parts of who he is because of this, and needs to sort that out before he can dive deeper into the commitment, which staying over would be.
He went back to his apartment and went to sleep thinking about how vulnerable his supposedly invulnerable body felt.
* * *
Bonds
What do master escape artists do with each other in their spare time?
Practice.
This whole segment came out of those two lines. As the fact that Scott and Bruce were both escape artists was pointed out and became a big part of how I was developing their dynamic in my head, as I realized I was going to be continuing this, heh.
tmelange left me just awesome feedback about the first three sections, brought up the "bond" challenge at ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
worlds_finest, combined with arch_schatten digging the escape artist vibe, produced the momentum for this to be written very quickly.
Clark had posed the question to Scott that morning at the League embassy, even as the obvious answer popped into his mind, like a teasing in-joke that they both laughed at.
Because having secrets like this inevitably spawns in-jokes like breeding rabbits.
"If you'd like to know, drop in tonight. 7pm sharp, or you may miss it." Scott smirked behind his yellow mask and left to follow Oberon and deal with their latest bit of strife.
And Clark kept the thought in the back of his mind all day, until he landed on their lawn just before the hour.
Barda was waiting with a glass of iced tea, which she gave him with a playful smile, then used the free hand to knit her fingers through his without a word. She lead him inside, and down through the basement door into Scott's workshop.
The basement was larger than it appeared on the outside, with a high ceiling and a dizzying array of technology from both Apokolips and New Genesis, in varying states of wholeness. The arsenal could no doubt tip the balance to an earthly war, but he had little doubt their security was more than adaquate... and it wasn't the most impressive sight.
Without any doubt, that honour fell to Bruce.
He was shirtless, wearing only a pair of brief spandex shorts and a blindfold, locked within an intricate metal device that strapped his arms around behind his back and his legs to where the entire thing was bolted to a rafter. It was swinging slightly, but Clark could barely see any motion from him, just the occasional tensing of a muscle in his arms or a determined gritting of teeth.
Spent a lot of time on the initial description of Bruce; had to make it seem like enough to really be wowing Clark in that moment. Also spent a great deal of time staring at Mister Miracle comic covers, in particular #1, to be able to describe such a contraption.
Scott was chewing on the plastic handle of a screwdriver, and looked up from where he was hunched over his long workbench.
"Clark. Glad you could make it."
Bruce let out a terse breath that made them all look over at him.
Scott smirked and rubbed his hands on a towel, swiveling his stool around and leaning back against the bench. He pointedly checked his watch.
"Could you please stop doing that?" Bruce graveled through his teeth.
Threw this in not only as a nod to Bruce's ability to almost sense what's going on around him, but also that he knew Scott well enough not to need to see him to be sure of what he was doing.
"I'll stop when you get loose," Scott replied, "You could at least pretend to be unaware of your surroundings when you can't see."
"I don't need to see to know you're gloating, Mister Miracle."
"I wouldn't say gloating," he replied, with a twinkle in his eye, "I'd never think of taunting the less fortunate."
"I'm feeling perfectly fortunate today, thank you very much."
While just a snarky aside, easily dismissed, Bruce is off-center in this conversation, and I wanted it to be as if he was more relaxed because he'd not actually seen Clark there, and that his dialogue when he's comfortable is like this, almost behind the scenes; like something for Clark to look forward to as their relationship develops.
"And still perfectly trussed up in those bonds."
"Hn."
"And distracted," Barda added, not hiding the amusement in her voice, "I don't think you can do it."
Bruce growled and there was a twitching of muscles along his right arm.
"At this rate, we won't have any time to spar before dark fully sets," Barda said to Scott.
Scott slipped the watch off his wrist; a stopwatch, that currently read eight minutes and counting.
"I think you can take it from here," he said, and handed it to Clark.
"And by all means, continue providing distraction," Barda said with a laugh as Scott followed her up the stairs.
Before long, he could distantly hear the clattering of their weapons outside. The stopwatch hit nine minutes and Bruce sighed.
"Think you can do it?" Clark asked.
Bruce pushed his head back and groaned in frustration. Clark couldn't help but feel a bit... empowered.
Distraction he could provide, but it took a moment of working up nerve before Clark stood up, setting the watch on the workbench with a distinct click against the wood surface. Almost by accident, he caught a shift in Bruce's heart rate, almost imperceptible even to him. He put his glass down, too, and approached with caution.
Wanted to be careful with overuse of using Clark's super-senses as a crutch for his perception of Bruce; but here, it fit very well.
Clark floated up off the floor enough to make his face level with Bruce's bare feet, and blew out a cool breath over his toes. Bruce shivered, and there was another skipped heartbeat.
Subtle sexy uses of two superpowers! See, that's why I like writing superheroes, right there. Hells yeah.
"You know what I can't figure out about you, Bruce?"
"I'm sure you'll enlighten me."
"I'm hoping it's you that could do some... enlightening." Clark brushed his fingers over the calloused instep. "I've never slept with someone without even knowing if they liked me or not."
"I think you're keen. Happy?"
I have no idea where, or when, or in what format, but one time I heard Bruce use a line similar to this; and I loved it. The idea came back to mind here, and while I haven't a clue as to whatever that initial inspiration ever was, 'keen' seemed like just a quirky enough word to make the actual seriousness of the statement questioned beyond just it's sarcasm, while leaving enough for one to realize that he is actually being serious. If flippant. And it's harder for Clark to decide which, because he wants so much to believe it.
"Impossibly." He traced the soft skin on the inside of his left leg down to the edge of the black spandex and back up again, and smiled as his muscles twitched underneath his touch, as if it tickled and he was trying to deny it. "But I should have known better than to expect an answer."
There was a small grunt, followed by a soft click around Bruce's hands.
"I thought I did answer you."
"You'd think." Clark fingered the inside of Bruce's knees, as much as he could while they were banded to Scott's rig, and nipped at the tip of his big toe. "So you spend a lot of time hanging upside-down. But do you live in a cave?"
Couldn't resist a bat joke. Just couldn't.
Bruce snorted, and there was a more audible clicking noise before his hands came loose and he deftly freed his legs, then flipped over and landed on the floor, pulling the blindfold off. He tossed it to Clark almost smugly.
Clark hit the stopwatch. Eleven minutes, twenty-three seconds.
"A personal best?"
"Hardly, damn you." Bruce pulled on a gray sweatshirt hanging from a nail in the concrete.
"Does that have anything to do with my newfound appreciation for spelunking?" Clark replied with a grin, in spite of the nervous edge he was still fighting off.
"It's a hazardous endeavor."
"I'm sure there are various techniques you could teach me. In the interests of safety."
Being flippant and dancing around the subject! Complete with dirty metaphor. Oh you guys.
Bruce smirked, and without a word, left Clark watching him walk back up the stairs, silent as a cat. Clark ran his hands through his hair and sighed, and almost missed the whispered word from the top of the stairs.
"Perhaps."
* * *
Essential Senses
Clark began to see that both pre and post-coital time would have a similar theme; silence, followed by the lazy shop-talk of Scott and Bruce; neither Barda nor Clark often had the technical expertise to chime in, but there was something very... nice... about it.
The Scott/Bruce chemistry became more and more appealing to me as I worked on this, and I wanted a segment that could really focus on that. I also wanted to do more with Bruce's comfort with Scott being a catalyst for Clark being more forward.
This all seems like a lot of thinky-think for everything, but really, there's few other things I've written that were done as quickly as these stories were.
Bruce was laying across Scott's chest and between his legs, matching pale skin and dark hair, and Scott was running his hands through Bruce's hair absently. Bruce had his eyes closed, and would appear to be asleep, if not for his soft conversation.
This time, they were recalling particularly close brushes with death, their closest escapes.
Clark had no idea just how intimately Bruce danced with death; it was startling.
"The trap had one flaw; it all hinged at a central point. Despite the intricacies of the bindings, slack on the left hand and a downward approach of the lock released all the chains."
"And it was truly designed by a master?"
"Not every master's work is a masterpiece. But I had trained under him, I knew how capable he was. It was the only reason I didn't fail."
This actually happened in canon; one of Bruce's teachers went down on his luck and was hired specifically to trap and kill Batman. Fortunately, Bruce knew the fatal flaw of the trap.
Scott nodded.
"Often my reliance on technology has made a few escapes more... harrowing than they had to be. Mother box has her limits, and I often push them too far."
Reference to the shift during Mister Miracle from reliance on Mother Box to being a more conventional escape artist, a shift I loved the hell out of.
"All tools have their limits."
Scott frowned and tugged on a lock of hair.
"She isn't merely a tool, as I've well made clear many times. Such continued regard can be disheartening to her."
Bruce smiled a little.
"I know, Scott."
There was a long period of silence, and Clark stroked Barda's thighs as he lay between them, tracing the definition of her muscles.
Because if I was just hanging out on top of Barda, that's what I would do.
"It's surprising, sometimes, what you think in those moments," Scott finally said.
"Mm."
Clark looked over, but neither seemed like they were going to elaborate, like they just knew what the other meant. From past conversation, perhaps. Or just past experience.
"What do you think?" Clark asked.
Bruce opened his eyes and looked over at him with an unreadable expression.
"If I was to die right now, would it all have been worth it?"
"What reason do I have to live?" Scott added.
"I have too much left to do," Bruce said.
"Barda would never forgive me if I didn't escape," Scott said quietly, with a smile.
This whole thing with confronting death scrounged together from inferences and statements in Batman comics, as well as what Scott often thought, when in a trap he wasn't sure he could escape; that Barda was waiting for him outside.
And I really do believe she wouldn't forgive him for that.
He looked over at her, and they reached for each other, holding hands over the pillows.
"It will serve you well not to forget it," she said with a laugh, "I certainly wouldn't."
Bruce leaned back again and closed his eyes, resting his hand on Scott's knee. It made Clark wonder again, just how a man like Bruce became so comfortable with people like this. Aside from his seeming withdrawal from everyone else, he'd repeatedly expressed an innate distrust of those with super-powers.
Clark never expected Bruce to ever really answer the question if he asked. So he asked Scott.
"How did he meet you?"
Scott grasped his meaning right away and chuckled.
"Bruce Wayne, billionaire playboy, approached me with a sponsorship offer on my tour. Oberon was still living with us then, still terribly uncomfortable with my stunts." He sighed fondly, "and, I turned him down."
"The offer was very good," Bruce murmured.
"They always are. But that wasn't the point," Scott replied, as if this conversation happened frequently. "That night, Batman got caught in one of my traps, and Barda hauled him in by the scruff of his neck."
"Not my finest moment."
I really love this exchange with Scott and Bruce. I felt like I'd really succeeded in finding their chemistry. Also, it brought Bruce Wayne into the story, which, because this is so removed from his life in Gotham, hadn't really been a factor.
"He's been complaining about handcuffs ever since," Barda said, and Bruce sighed.
Clark couldn't help but chuckle; Bruce gave him a cool, even glance. Still intimidating, even laying naked and content in another man's arms.
Don't laugh at me, you! XD
"Barda wanted to decorate the fence with his entrails, but I convinced her we should keep him," Scott said, "and we did, more or less."
The line about Barda came out of the clear blue sky, and I immediately loved it. I wasn't sure if it was a bit too over the top, then I figured; Hell, these are New Gods here. There's no such thing as too over the top.
"I was interested in training with you."
"Notice he says with, and not under," Scott said, smirking and raising a teasing eyebrow, "I believe it was the first time he saw Barda lift up the truck with one hand that 'under' became more apt."
"I was aware of her strength beforehand, I merely..."
"The lady doth protest too much," Scott said dryly.
"It was a mistake to introduce you to Shakespeare."
Incidentally, this is my favourite line from Shakespeare, from Hamlet. Finding a way to use it really made me all happy, heh.
"Perhaps revisiting some of those early themes will change your mind," Barda said, her voice husky.
Again, it's Barda that initiates the sex. It's kinda funny, really, how it's actually canon for her to be this way, so I mean, how could I resist working with it?
Scott placed his hands over Bruce's eyes as Barda nudged Clark up, over the two of them. Barda leaned up and grabbed one of Bruce's wrists, then the other, holding them tight in one hand, pinching his nipples with the other.
Clark was, at first, uncertain, even as the sight of Bruce groaning and writhing beneath him swept through his system like a drug. He reached out slowly to touch his skin, felt the quick pulse of his blood. Clark pressed his knees together, trapping Bruce's legs in his, and bent down, gripping Bruce's ass in his hand.
Bruce let out a breathy moan, and Clark grasped Bruce's erection in his other hand while Scott nibbled on his ears and Barda was leaning down to silence him with a kiss. He still made rumbling noises in his throat, that grew louder when Clark began sucking him between hot breaths.
I went into this story knowing I wanted the sex to basically be about holding Bruce down and doing dirty things to him. Most of the effort of the smut in this segment went into who was going to be holding Bruce how at any given point, and the logistics of it. Did a lot of thinking about if people could bend certain ways... and such...
He came with a strangled yell, and Barda released his hands as Clark licked him a few more times until he stopped twitching. She pulled him Clark back, then Bruce, forward against Clark's own erection, braced up on his arms.
Barda straddled him, facing Clark and kissing him slowly as Bruce's tongue began pleasuring him, the sheets tight in his fists, shutting his eyes against anything but the sensations and the taste of Barda's tongue, sharp and tangy, sweet and overpowering. She began moaning in his ear, and Clark looked again, to see Scott thrusting into Bruce as he fingered Barda, a hand braced on her waist.
Having Scott fucking both of them at once just kinda happened. I ran with it, because that's really, really hot.
She grabbed Clark's arms tight, pressing the side of her face against his, nipping at his neck.
Clark tangled his fingers in Bruce's hair as his lips became more insistent and he couldn't help but arch forward into him, directing the motions of his head with his hand. It made Clark moan with a spike of tingling electricity that went through him at the glimpsed sight of it, before Barda captured his lips again for a moment.
Before I continued with this scene, I had a nice think about Bruce being sexually submissive. Which was nice on many levels. My thinking told me that not only was it plausible, it was a logical reaction to the tight control he has over every other part of his life, and I kept it.
She leaned down and bit hard into his shoulder as she came, arching forward and grinding against Bruce.
Bruce dug his fingernails into Clark's skin and guided him into his own orgasm, licking around his shaft as he leaned into Barda tight for a long, intense moment.
When they fell back cuddling against the headboard, Clark was in Bruce's arms and Scott was in Barda's.
Intentional switch of post-coital partners from how we began, bit of a nudge towards the fact that I'd decided sexually submissive Bruce was more open and trusting, when in that frame of mind.
The silence came, with the sound of deep and content breathing and rapid heartbeats all around him. They were all sleepily smiling, even Bruce's lips hinted of it softly as Clark curled against his chest a bit. It was remarkably trusting, with his eyes closed again and not a trace of defensiveness left in him.
Right now, it was difficult to imagine him as the wraith that lurked in darkened rafters. It made him wonder how Bruce lived every day. Did he live alone? What kind of family did such a man keep around him?
"Someday you're going to have to show me the cave you slip back to, Bruce."
"Hn."
"I'll take that as a yes."
"As you wish."
Clark had almost drifted off to sleep when Bruce spoke again, to Scott.
"Have you considered attempting to increase the tensile strength of your uniform?"
This being a now continuing series, more is coming, but yeah. I feel like I got a wonderful vibe going with the air of mystery still hanging here and there, and now I'm just worried about pulling it back too much.
We'll see.
tmelange: the same person that kicked this supposed one-shot into an ongoing series. :)Commentary is on the first five segments, all that has been posted as of this post.
This story is very NC-17, and so are my comments.
Comics canon is a scary thing. Despite being a holder of way more useless information about continuity than is healthy, I found it very daunting. Going through a batch of books just to clarify one point or another just... no. Heh. So generally, I stick to DCAU for the ease of knowing I've gotten details right, and of course, for the brilliant characterizations.
However, there is always exceptions. And this became one of them. When I first read the issue of Action Comics this all came from, I went to the next issue... and there was no mention of the event. Nor have I ever seen or heard of Clark, Barda, Scott, or anyone ever talking about the fact that Clark and Barda may or may not have slept together.
My brain could not let this rest.
This was compounded by the startling page of interaction between Bruce and Clark after Scott's supposed death and funeral. I'd never seen anything about Scott and Bruce having even known each other... and yet, there he was. In mourning, as is rarely seen for him so blatantly.
What was up with that? Bruce doesn't easily call someone friend, and it just begged to be explored.
Both these ideas simmered on the backburner, and something happened where they just fell into each other, and became a single little plotbunny bouncing around. A little while later, I wrote the first three segments.
Fog
Like looking through murky glass, he saw himself move over her, free the plate of metal, run a hand over her strong torso before returning to her breast. He couldn't look into her eyes, but gazed on her skin instead.
A voice somewhere directed, and he followed, sucking on her nipple as a long leg wrapped around him and pushed his still-trapped erection hard against the cold shield of the brief covering she still wore.
Then she was above him, curling the stray lock of his hair that fell across his forehead in her fingers, and he could imagine nothing but worshipping her for the rest of his days.
Obviously, flashback to the actual sex, which I decided did happen. It's often the way, in DC, for characters to... suddenly un-forget mindwipey things. And since, in the issue itself, there was never a clear intention of having the two forget everything that happened, I just had them both remember, in full explicit detail.
Clark woke up with a start, gasping and grasping his sweat-beaded face in his hand. The dreams became more vivid every night, and as he got up, splashing cool water on his skin, they were burned in his memory clearly.
He'd seen Scott yesterday, when he'd gone to the newly built New York embassy of the Justice League. They'd asked, again, if he wanted to join them. But how could he?
Metropolis needed him. And he didn't need to get involved in another family, only to see it torn apart. On his way out, he'd caught the sound of a familiar heartbeat lurking in the shadows, and wondered if the feeling was a shared one.
This train of thought is very scattered intentionally, jumping from one idea to the next to try and portray the actual confusion Clark was going through without beating the reader over the head with it.
He took a quick shower and pulled on his uniform, flying around the dark city, finding only sleepy quiet with a few clusters of people outside of bars and nightclubs, laughing with a kind of drunken abandon or pulling each other aside into alleys and hideaways out of sight.
Out of almost everyone's sight, but Superman turned his eyes away and flew higher in the atmosphere, until he was in floating in the impossible stillness and silence of space, looking down at Earth as a thin sheet of ice began to slowly form on his skin.
I've been in love with the image of Clark floating above the Earth, with ice forming on his skin as he watches the life below. It's the image of a quintessential outsider longing to be a part of what he's seeing, and it's tragically romantic.
He thought about the way a fiery reporter's eyes twinkled when she talked to his mask, and the casual dismissal of himself as a man. About his responsibilities, about the weight of the world, and why he had no right to be consumed with this sort of thought.
My problem with most superhero wives: they marry the superhero, not the man underneath. Generally speaking. This was thrown in because I was very much thinking about the difference between Clark & Lois's marriage and Scott & Barda's at this point; even though this story takes place before he ever even dates Lois.
There was man he'd met some time ago, that seemed to consume all of the shadows of the world and made them his extension, and thus, Clark felt him everywhere, a presence he couldn't shake himself of. That he hadn't seen so much as felt nearby with increasing regularity. Surely he never allowed himself this sort of distraction.
In his first years of wearing the red cape, he'd often thought about what Batman would or wouldn't do. Sometimes judging by one, sometimes by the other. He was in his own now, and didn't often think that way anymore. But he didn't stop thinking about the man.
Bruce as a set of ideals and images, as opposed to an actual real person. I'd imagine it'd be very easy for memory to bring him up that way, with the pure force of mysterious personality that comes off him. on their first meeting, it very much struck me that Clark was still learning what it was to even be a hero, and Bruce knew exactly what was up, and that must have stuck to him over the years.
Clark focused his vision, and found him after some searching, miles below swinging through the air on a long tether, landing lightly and racing across a rooftop before he was airborne again.
No, he would never let himself get distracted.
He bit his lip and thought of the bewitching way Barda's hair fell across her back, smooth and black. He was very distracted.
This had to be addressed somehow.
* * *
The Home of Scott and Barda
It was in that mind that Clark left work that next afternoon, loosening his tie and trading it for a cape and soaring through the clouds north.
Both of these clothing items represent the two masks Clark wears; neither is the real person. That Superman and Batman, Clark Kent and Bruce Wayne, are the outside edges to the actual person underneath is a common theme in my musings and I think it comes through a lot in my writing.
New York's suburbs and population died out to mountains and trees, and a short time later he was standing in front of a modest home in the rurals of New Hampshire, looking around and self-conciously knocking on the door.
I still get a huge kick out of the fact that Scott & Barda live in New Hampshire... I mean, I live in New Hampshire. Crazy. Heh.
The address had been easy enough to get, once he'd been able to tear Beetle's attention away from whatever mischief he was up to with Booster while he was supposed to be on monitor duty.
My, how the League had changed.
I wanted this to be set during a time period where Clark wasn't involved with the League, at his most singular, to accentuate the separation he was feeling from everyone else. That even in the superhero community, he was something of an outsider, if a hugely respected and admired one.
Clark looked up as Barda answered the door, towering over him in a pair of jeans and white t-shirt that clung to her curves just a little too tightly. Her hair was drawn up in a ponytail and her hands had the tangy smell of working with metal on them.
I will never, ever, get over the fact that Barda is way taller than Clark.
"Superman, a pleasant surprise." She stood aside and gestured for him to come in, and he stepped forward hesitantly at first, still not entirely sure what he was doing here. "My husband is in the basement, playing with his toys."
Heh. His 'toys' being, of course, a nod to the fact that it's Bruce down there with him.
"I came to see you, actually."
He sat on a couch, looking around at the surprising... ordinary-ness of their home. Scott and Barda were considered akin to gods on New Genesis, but here their lives appeared to be simple and resoundingly human. Clark fingered the petals of a daisy in a bouquet sitting next to him in a glass vase.
The fact that Scott is a god, literally, and he and Barda come from a childhood that is almost inhuman next to life on Earth, not just alien, is always striking to me. Why it is that he always returns here, and is much happier on Earth than in his godhood on New Genesis. When he's there, it's like he turns into EmoScott. But on Earth, he surrounds himself with a mixture of the ordinary and the extraordinary in a way that really works for both he and Barda.
I think all that would really make an impression on Clark, as I've portrayed him here, feeling very much like an outsider.
Barda settled down across from him, perching like a queen in the wood chair.
"This is about what occurred in the Suicide Slums, is it not?"
Clark looked away out the window for a moment, then back at her.
"Yes, actually, it is." He found himself fidgeting a little. "I'm sorry if I shouldn't have come here."
"Where else would you have gone?" She arched an eyebrow and smirked. "The video store?"
Writing the Clark of this era as nervous was a tricky move, but having him be subtly so worked, so I ran with it in several places. That Clark was him at his most ballsy, but after all... he's just a man. A man notoriously inept when it comes to relationships beyond friendship. XD
He couldn't help but laugh at that, and felt grateful for the levity.
"Barda... I remember what happened."
She stood up then, standing in front of him and looking down, and gently tipped up his head with a hand on his chin.
The image of Barda tipping up Scott's chin to talk to him stuck with me very strongly after watching The Ties That Bind, hence it's re-use here a few times. It represents Barda's gentle domination of them all to me. Heh.
"As do I, Kryptonian. And somehow I think these memories were not found... undesirable." Clark's breath caught and he found himself unable to find a suitable reply. "There are many understandings in his home, Kal-El. We are people of New Genesis, and it is not without precedent that another joins in the celebration of my marriage to Scott."
Finding a way to refer to Scott and Barda's marital sex, with the sometimes other-worldly dialogue that Barda uses, was a trick at first. I came to like this way of doing it.
"I..."
She put her index finger softly across his lips, then walked over to the kitchen.
"Tea?"
"N...no thank you."
He watched her pour hot water into a mug with a little cartoon fish on it, then sit back down again.
"The initial... discomfort with our situation has passed, Kal-El. And this is why you came here, isn't it?"
"Please... call me Clark."
Her lips twitched into a smile.
She's a smart girl, and she totally gets what it means for him to give her his name to use like that. Even over the years, not many people call him Clark in uniform. I put a big weight on name usage sometimes.
"Clark."
He smiled back, and despite the fact he was still wearing his uniform, he felt very much like himself.
"And... yes, I suppose that is why I came here. Maybe. I don't know why I did, actually."
She nodded.
"Then know, if you wish to join us... we've already discussed the possibility, Clark. And you wouldn't be turned away by us."
He blushed and looked down at the floor.
"I... I mean... I would... I just..."
"You're so cute when you're nervous." She said merrily. "It isn't my intent to make you so, but it's rather fetching on the Man of Steel."
Clark looked up curiously.
"You've discussed it?"
"Yes. We keep no secrets or hidden feelings here, they breed only distrust and weakness. It's been discussed."
I've never explicitly read this as being their policy; but it's like, they don't have to even say it. Barda and Scott have been through far too much in their lives to let petty things get in the way of their lives, and if they're anything, it's honest with each other.
"Oh." The idea was at once comforting and unsettling. He didn't think he was quite up to the idea of having this become a discussion between the three of them. "I..." He thought about his empty bed, and the memory of her body commanding his own. "I think I might... be interested."
She got up again, leaning down from her intimidating height to brush her fingers under his chin again, and capture his lips in a heady kiss.
"Then there is one more thing." Barda opened a door and leaned down into it slightly. "Scott, we have a guest. And bring Bruce with you."
Bruce? Clark frowned and listened in spite of himself. The familiar heartbeat and light steps of Scott Free walking up the stairs. And...
It couldn't be.
Two black haired, blue-eyed men stepped past Barda, both impressive in their physique and mere presence filling the room. Scott had longer sideburns, a pair of stained work pants and a green t-shirt on, looking at him with a friendly greeting smile. The other wore black, sharp and immaculate, with a hard gaze that seemed to pierce right through him.
It was at this point in the story that I realized everyone involved were all gorgeous black-haired blue-eyed superheroes, and some of the most formidable in the DCU. It's an awesome image to me, having them together like that. Like, almost poetic to picture, and sure added to writing them together. And totally an accident.
Familiar in some other way... and it took a moment before Clark realized it was Bruce Wayne. Without the easy smile and crowds of glittering socialites. He was Batman.
Clark's mouth went dry.
Suddenly, this wasn't just about Barda at all. It was about a million different conflicting emotions that made butterflies in his stomach. It felt like an initiation into a closed, small group of Earthbound gods, and Clark wished very much he felt more like Superman just then.
Bruce looked very much like Batman.
Clark shifted.
Since I'd previously been having Clark almost looking up to Bruce as an example, at least in the past, I figured the only possible initial reaction he could have here was intimidation. But more than that, too. Like Bruce had been that collection of ideals and ability, and all of a sudden he was more real, and Clark began reacting to that reality defensively.
"A place without secrets, and you're here?" He said without thinking.
Bruce narrowed his eyes slightly.
"He's under the impression you're a possible threat, begrudgingly open to your presence. Likely with a mind you could be more easily watched that way," Barda said, then sipped at her tea, "I wouldn't taunt him."
Scott laughed, slapping Bruce on the back and walking into the kitchen to wash his hands. Bruce didn't move, still eyeing him darkly. He stood there, even as Barda and Scott sat down next to Clark on the couch, with Barda running her hand over Clark's thigh.
And, of course, Barda and Scott defuse the situation before it becomes a situation. With the sexy.
"No secrets. No lies. And nothing leaves these walls; nothing." Bruce's look shifted over to Barda, and Clark followed suit, finding her eyes deep and honest. "It is about pleasure, but it is also about celebrating life. Do you want this?"
"Yes," he whispered, almost surprised when he said it.
"You two will have to become comfortable with one another," she replied, "else it will never work."
They looked at each other again, and Bruce lifted his chin slightly, perhaps a bit defiantly. Barda's hand ran over his crotch and he sucked in a breath. Next to him, Scott had leaned closer, wrapped around Barda, but watching him almost curiously.
He didn't know if he could do this.
"Bruce," Barda said, soft but commanding.
Barda's control of this situation was something I didn't entirely expect, but came naturally as I was working with the group dynamic. They're all very strong-willed leaders, but Barda has a talent for winning those types over; or not being at all impressed by it. Also, as the only woman in the group, it all has a kind of symmetry to their physical interaction that way.
Clark's eyes got a little wider when he very unexpectedly responded, wordlessly approaching him with a calculating edge. Bruce knelt with one knee in between Clark's legs, leaning close over his face. He could smell cologne, sweat, and traces of grease from Scott's workshop on his skin.
"You dared to come to my city," Bruce growled, "You dared to sit in judgement of me."
"Your methods are extreme, I don't know if I can always condone your actions," Clark replied tersely, in spite of himself.
"You calling anything I do 'extreme' is laughable. Nobody should wield the power you do."
"Are you afraid you can't stop me?"
Typical macho sizing-up of each other, with added sexy. I knew they'd have to clear the air about their differences before they'd be able to be closer and not have it be... tense.
Bruce lifted his face slightly, and smirked.
"We'll have to cross that bridge when we come to it." He leaned close to Clark's ear, and then whispered. "I knew you would come here, eventually. Clark." He then bit his ear, and now there were two hands slipping underneath his uniform, and one tangled in his hair.
Clark leaned his head back and moaned.
"You tricked me before," he said.
"I'm sure it'll happen again," Bruce intoned.
That he believed.
Barda stood up, pulling Scott with her, apparently a signal that they were taking this somewhere else. Bruce stood and offered his hand with an arrogant smile on his face, and Clark took it, laughing.
The man was unbelievable.
They had large bed, predictably needed to suit all seven feet of Barda, and apparently a third frequent partner. When they got there, Barda took Clark away from Bruce with a grin, and left Scott to touch Bruce with a kind of gentle familiarity.
First actual working with the Bruce/Scott dynamic more physically. I wanted to get across that, although they have sex with each other, that's secondary in their relationship.
Barda laughed, deep and loud, and tugged off his shirt and cape, pinching playfully at his nipples and interrupting with frequent kisses. He bit at her lip and unbuttoned her jeans, tugged down the zipper and slid his hand underneath.
He couldn't believe this was really happening.
Another hard pinch on his left butt-cheek made it a little easier. It actually hurt a little, which only aroused him further. Few people, and fewer women, had the power to hurt him so casually. And she knew it.
Had to throw the pinching in; because it's true. Not a whole lot of people could just playfully pinch Clark and have it actually hurt. Physical reinforcement of her position in the group.
They were quickly naked on the bed... and so were Bruce and Scott. They traded touches and kisses back and forth a while, until Clark worked up the nerve to lean over Bruce's face underneath their partners, and follow their example with a kiss. At first guarded, then open and deep.
Hints that Clark is surprised by the relationship between Bruce and Scott, and that it was what made him feel confidant enough to do that.
And surprisingly sweet.
They were all lost in each other, as he was pulled between probing Barda with his tongue, biting along a scarred chest, exploring dark hair with his fingers and an erection with his lips. Hands, fingers, and all of much the same treatment were all returned with aching slowness.
Group sex is chaotic. This being my first go at it, it came off that way in style, and I liked it that way.
It had to be hours that passed like that, and Clark quickly learned that they fell to Barda's direction. To which he offered no complaint. At that point, Barda pulled Scott underneath her, leaving Bruce looking over at Clark with lust-filled eyes.
And again he moved in silence, with a predatory motion and striking determination. He flipped Clark over swiftly, scratching his nails into his back. When he began stroking him, then thrusting in slick and hot, it was as everything else had been... slow, unhurried.
And gaining a second wind.
He sucked on Scott's fingers, groaning into them. Someone was stroking his erection, and Bruce was grunting as he pushed in again.
Sometimes throw in sexual acts being done, without really being sure who the giver or the recipient is, to try and convey the tangled-ness of it all. Did this a couple times. I think that might be my favourite part of writing a foursome. It's very erotic in a very dirty kind of way.
Bruce came yelling Clark's name, then, still breathless, flipped him back over and began sucking him feverishly. Barda had his hands pinned over his head as she continued grinding against Scott, but he could barely see them, or even Bruce, just the dark wood ceiling above them. Clark curled his toes into the sheets and strained against Barda as he came.
Inside of Batman's stoic exterior, there is Bruce Wayne: Sex Machine. Also, this was the point where the group sex dynamic got easier for me, and came more naturally as four people having sex, not trying to combine two different couples. Although that is a part of this. I wanted to have the pairings in the couples overlap, Barda/Scott Bruce/Clark Barda/Clark Bruce/Scott as primaries, like some kind of geometric shape being bent around.
They were all tangled together soon after that, all sweaty and breathless. Scott was under Barda's arm and between Bruce's legs as Bruce was leaning on Clark's chest eying him with a deceptively dispassionate look. His continued rapid heart rate said something else. Barda tugged at Clark's hair gently and smiled with he looked over.
"Let it never be said I have nothing for which to thank Darkseid," she said with a smirk, and Scott chuckled, "although I never will."
One by one, they got up, showered, changed, and found themselves sitting in the kitchen drinking coffee. Barda sat on the counter behind Scott, who stood leaning against her, and Clark sat on an empty stool while Bruce returned to brooding in the corner, albeit with a less defensive air.
And thusly do people return to their default positions... heh. I didn't want to write Bruce as entirely comfortable with Clark's presence yet, but getting there in his way.
Clark hadn't felt this comfortable around others in a very long time.
Scott regaled them with stories about the new League, to which Bruce occasionally added a comment about something else Booster, Beetle, and frequently Guy were up to. As frustrating as it sounded, they were all laughing.
It's totally canon that Bruce makes fun of the JLI crew in private; and with co-workers like that, who wouldn't?
Even Bruce was chuckling, and it seemed that wonders would never cease.
Late afternoon became early evening far too quickly, and Bruce was checking his watch pointedly.
"Do you need a lift back to Gotham?" Clark asked.
"I have my own transportation," he replied.
Batman was returning to his voice and bearing more overtly. He went to go change back into his uniform, and Clark sighed.
As I generally do, I wanted to make the division between Bruce Wayne, "Bruce", and Batman very clear.
"Are you happy you said yes?" Barda asked, with a gleam in her eye. "You're welcome any time."
Clark grinned, and nodded.
"But I should be going, too."
Barda reached out her hand, beckoning Clark over. He got up and took it, letting himself get pulled against Scott and into her kiss, lifted ever so slightly off the floor by the front of his uniform.
He could get used to this.
That line was written as a nod to myself, as I was thinking that I could certainly get used to this. XD
He and Scott clasped hands and shared a moment of mutual deference, and then he turned around, and there was Bruce.
Bruce held Barda's left hand and Scott's right as he kissed her cheek, then his, slowly. He let go and walked out, nodding to Clark as he passed, and was gone.
Writing the goodbyes was harder than writing the sex, for real. How would Bruce say goodbye to his lovers? Especially his male lover? I needed it to be intimate and yet reserved, and somehow about both of them. When I came up with this, I was so relieved to have found that. And, of course, more demonstration that he hasn't quiet let Clark 'in' yet. But that Clark may be closer than he thinks.
Barda just shrugged as Clark made a last goodbye and took off out the front door and into the darkening sky.
He'd expected Barda and Scott, being from another world, to be different. But now, alone with his thoughts, he was blown away by just how different.
What had just happened.
And Bruce.
He felt more alien and more human at the same time, and wondered if that meant... he was more himself.
When this was all said and done, and Clark was flying away, it occurred to me that he'd gone there with no expectations and come away with something hugely incredible, enough to make him feel very strongly about not only the situation, but himself.
* * *
An Invitation to Dinner
A month later, he accepted an invitation for dinner from Scott and Barda, left waiting in his inbox at the Daily Planet. No doubt Bruce had worked it out some time ago. From what little he knew about the man, allowing something to slip past his knowledge didn't seem like something he tolerated.
Writing Clark as knowing Batman, but not really knowing Batman in the way that I'm used to writing him, was tricky. Trying to figure out what traits he'd already seen, and what he would infer, being the smart boy he is. I almost edited out the comment about Bruce, then merely edited it to reflect more inference in the conclusion than actual knowledge.
He set the invitation on his desk, and kept it there for the rest of the day as he played catch-up with his stories... and catch with a jumper who'd tried taking her own life by leaping off the Daily Planet.
She worked delivering packages through the building.
It bothered him that he hadn't noticed something was wrong earlier.
While this is very much about their relationship, and not about their working lives, the two tend to overlap in the hero line of work, and I wanted to reflect not only that, but the deep feeling that Clark has about his responsibilities. Being at a place where he's working alone as Superman, it would only be intensified.
When he flew to Bailey that evening, he changed into civilian clothes and didn't knock right away, but sat on the front porch looking out into the trees. Squirrels were jumping across the branches, chasing each other with twitters and leaps.
He thought about the painting of the mountain over Barda's bed.
No really, there's a painting of a mountain over Barda's bed in Bailey. I saw it and it struck me as almost metaphoric by itself, and even moreso in this context.
Originally, this conversation was between Clark and Barda. Then I realized that Scott, even though he'd been in almost all of this so far, had barely said a word, and changed it.
A moment later, Scott was sitting next to him.
"Something is troubling you."
He half-smiled and shook his head.
"Just... not being able to do everything. Same old, same old."
Scott nodded.
"Not such an unfamiliar thing to hear in this house. How are you handling the burden?"
"I'm Superman. I just have to handle it, and do my best."
He slung his arm across Clark's shoulders and playfully punched him with the other.
"That's what I like to hear. We all must have strength in the face of adversity." Scott smiled and pulled him up.
He followed him into the kitchen, where Barda was cooking, and Scott went back to taking apart the toaster on the counter. There were vegetables sizzling in a pan on the stove and he could smell steak broiling.
"I know you're a vegetarian, I hope there's enough besides the steak."
"You do?"
Barda just winked and stirred a fork around in the pan.
Having Barda cooking was a little joke to myself; because I could only imagine the time Scott must have spent to teach her how, and just what a househusband he can really be.
"Hello, Barda." He walked over and looked over Scott's shoulder at the guts of the toaster.
"Just making some adjustments."
"I believe he's attempting to make it capable of time dilation as well as blackening bread," Barda said with a smirk.
Oh, the toaster. That came from the frustration that I'm sure someone used to super high-tech must have with such simple and relatively crude devices, and I imagined Scott doing everything he could to make them as efficient as possible. Also, Barda's joking line about what else he was trying to do with it? Took a surprising amount of time for me to come up with something silly that worked.
"Show's what you know," Scott replied, lifting an eyebrow at her teasingly.
Clark leaned against the counter and looked over at the table. It was set at four places.
"He'll be here," Barda said, "If he's a man who does anything, it's honour his obligations."
"To the point of absurdity," Scott added as he began screwing the base of the toaster back on, "As I'm sure you've noticed."
An indication that Scott is not aware of just how little Bruce and Clark see each other, and a possible indicator that Bruce talks about Clark? I almost did away with it, but left it open to be interpreted or ignored.
"You've known him longer than I have." And Clark thought, but didn't add, that he barely knew Bruce at all.
Scott plugged the toaster in and popped in two slices of bread to test it out.
"The two of you are a lot more alike than you know."
Clark was going to ask what he meant by that, but Bruce chose the moment to materialize from out of the back of the house. What did they possibly have in common?
Bruce helped them carry food to the table, where they sat down with Clark next to Barda and across from Bruce, who was pointedly avoiding his gaze.
Because the last thing I wanted to do was make it easy for Clark to get close to Bruce. That wouldn't be any fun at all.
Clark fell into the subtle deference they all gave Barda, as plates were passed around and Bruce made quiet noises of appreciation over his steak. Scott talked about going's on with the League, while Barda commented dryly and Bruce occasionally assented to various points.
Clark wondered how long it usually took Bruce to go from grunting to complete sentences. And decided to find out.
"You've taken on a partner since we last officially met," he said to Bruce, spearing some peppers on his fork. "I was surprised to hear it."
"I began training him soon after that," Bruce said, "He's more than capable."
I asked
merfilly about this as confirmation, that, in fact, Dick was not even ten years old when he became Robin. I'm using the early canon age of eight. I wasn't thinking about this much, as all this was still going to be part of a one-shot, but I was thinking about it, and now that it's continuing, Robin will be coming up again soon. Clark's wavering line between approving and disapproving of such a young partner was a theme in many comics from the time period I'm writing about, and I wanted to keep it that way."Are you sure?"
Bruce looked up at him sternly.
"You're still inexperienced, and have no right to question my judgement," he said with an air of finality.
"I'm sure it'll happen again," Clark replied, and failed at repressing a smirk.
Bruce paused, then looked up wryly. It wasn't exactly a smile, but it felt like an accomplishment all the same.
Clark has won a minor victory with rhetoric! XD
At least he finally spoke up more as they finished dinner. Near the end, the sense of mutual familiarity was almost off-putting. No secrets.
They put the dishes in sink to be dealt with later, and ended up entangled together on the porch watching the sunset.
Barda sat in the middle of the porch swing, with Clark on her left and Scott on her right. She'd pulled Bruce across their laps and held him there until he stopped struggling.
Then Scott began idly pulling off his shoes and rubbing his feet, and Bruce relaxed his head onto Clark's arm while he talked to Scott about possible upgrades to his security. Clark and Barda quietly listened to them, and Clark wondered how long Bruce had been coming here. And being so different than his public perception, such as it was.
Themes that come up again later on, for further exploration, this whole bit. How it's almost normal, but not quite; but it's definitely a welcome place of comfort for all involved, in their anything-but-normal lives.
It occurred to Clark that Bruce was talking about his home; he'd never thought about Batman's home before. From the sound of it, his house was large; but that wasn't surprising, as wealthy as he was. Bruce mentions the coastline and a cave network being connected and it feels like occult information.
He found himself very much wanting to see it, and wondered if he could manage to follow Bruce home unnoticed. Or at least without making him furious.
It seemed doubtful. But there was something else he could do.
That last sentence was an accident that I didn't pick up on; I'd been planning on using it to lead into later actions, but it didn't happen. So I left it hanging, as if Clark didn't really know what else he could do... but something.
The sun had almost set, Barda picked Bruce up, and set him on his knees in front of her with an arch grin.
"I need a less teasing distraction than that butt of yours on my crotch."
He smirked, then began sucking on the fabric of her jeans.
What Clark remembered later was how he and Scott took turns taking Bruce, on his knees as he pleasured Barda. And wondering in a kind of amazement just how it was such a man came to this. And moreso about how he had, too.
Clark just totally fell into this, and I needed to give him another "woah" moment.
About how Bruce managed to slip away unseen, despite all of Clark's senses.
On his way home, he found him from the atmosphere. Scott offered to let him stay, and perhaps sometime he would, but not tonight.
To me, Clark here is almost rediscovering parts of who he is because of this, and needs to sort that out before he can dive deeper into the commitment, which staying over would be.
He went back to his apartment and went to sleep thinking about how vulnerable his supposedly invulnerable body felt.
* * *
Bonds
What do master escape artists do with each other in their spare time?
Practice.
This whole segment came out of those two lines. As the fact that Scott and Bruce were both escape artists was pointed out and became a big part of how I was developing their dynamic in my head, as I realized I was going to be continuing this, heh.
tmelange left me just awesome feedback about the first three sections, brought up the "bond" challenge at worlds_finest, combined with arch_schatten digging the escape artist vibe, produced the momentum for this to be written very quickly.Clark had posed the question to Scott that morning at the League embassy, even as the obvious answer popped into his mind, like a teasing in-joke that they both laughed at.
Because having secrets like this inevitably spawns in-jokes like breeding rabbits.
"If you'd like to know, drop in tonight. 7pm sharp, or you may miss it." Scott smirked behind his yellow mask and left to follow Oberon and deal with their latest bit of strife.
And Clark kept the thought in the back of his mind all day, until he landed on their lawn just before the hour.
Barda was waiting with a glass of iced tea, which she gave him with a playful smile, then used the free hand to knit her fingers through his without a word. She lead him inside, and down through the basement door into Scott's workshop.
The basement was larger than it appeared on the outside, with a high ceiling and a dizzying array of technology from both Apokolips and New Genesis, in varying states of wholeness. The arsenal could no doubt tip the balance to an earthly war, but he had little doubt their security was more than adaquate... and it wasn't the most impressive sight.
Without any doubt, that honour fell to Bruce.
He was shirtless, wearing only a pair of brief spandex shorts and a blindfold, locked within an intricate metal device that strapped his arms around behind his back and his legs to where the entire thing was bolted to a rafter. It was swinging slightly, but Clark could barely see any motion from him, just the occasional tensing of a muscle in his arms or a determined gritting of teeth.
Spent a lot of time on the initial description of Bruce; had to make it seem like enough to really be wowing Clark in that moment. Also spent a great deal of time staring at Mister Miracle comic covers, in particular #1, to be able to describe such a contraption.
Scott was chewing on the plastic handle of a screwdriver, and looked up from where he was hunched over his long workbench.
"Clark. Glad you could make it."
Bruce let out a terse breath that made them all look over at him.
Scott smirked and rubbed his hands on a towel, swiveling his stool around and leaning back against the bench. He pointedly checked his watch.
"Could you please stop doing that?" Bruce graveled through his teeth.
Threw this in not only as a nod to Bruce's ability to almost sense what's going on around him, but also that he knew Scott well enough not to need to see him to be sure of what he was doing.
"I'll stop when you get loose," Scott replied, "You could at least pretend to be unaware of your surroundings when you can't see."
"I don't need to see to know you're gloating, Mister Miracle."
"I wouldn't say gloating," he replied, with a twinkle in his eye, "I'd never think of taunting the less fortunate."
"I'm feeling perfectly fortunate today, thank you very much."
While just a snarky aside, easily dismissed, Bruce is off-center in this conversation, and I wanted it to be as if he was more relaxed because he'd not actually seen Clark there, and that his dialogue when he's comfortable is like this, almost behind the scenes; like something for Clark to look forward to as their relationship develops.
"And still perfectly trussed up in those bonds."
"Hn."
"And distracted," Barda added, not hiding the amusement in her voice, "I don't think you can do it."
Bruce growled and there was a twitching of muscles along his right arm.
"At this rate, we won't have any time to spar before dark fully sets," Barda said to Scott.
Scott slipped the watch off his wrist; a stopwatch, that currently read eight minutes and counting.
"I think you can take it from here," he said, and handed it to Clark.
"And by all means, continue providing distraction," Barda said with a laugh as Scott followed her up the stairs.
Before long, he could distantly hear the clattering of their weapons outside. The stopwatch hit nine minutes and Bruce sighed.
"Think you can do it?" Clark asked.
Bruce pushed his head back and groaned in frustration. Clark couldn't help but feel a bit... empowered.
Distraction he could provide, but it took a moment of working up nerve before Clark stood up, setting the watch on the workbench with a distinct click against the wood surface. Almost by accident, he caught a shift in Bruce's heart rate, almost imperceptible even to him. He put his glass down, too, and approached with caution.
Wanted to be careful with overuse of using Clark's super-senses as a crutch for his perception of Bruce; but here, it fit very well.
Clark floated up off the floor enough to make his face level with Bruce's bare feet, and blew out a cool breath over his toes. Bruce shivered, and there was another skipped heartbeat.
Subtle sexy uses of two superpowers! See, that's why I like writing superheroes, right there. Hells yeah.
"You know what I can't figure out about you, Bruce?"
"I'm sure you'll enlighten me."
"I'm hoping it's you that could do some... enlightening." Clark brushed his fingers over the calloused instep. "I've never slept with someone without even knowing if they liked me or not."
"I think you're keen. Happy?"
I have no idea where, or when, or in what format, but one time I heard Bruce use a line similar to this; and I loved it. The idea came back to mind here, and while I haven't a clue as to whatever that initial inspiration ever was, 'keen' seemed like just a quirky enough word to make the actual seriousness of the statement questioned beyond just it's sarcasm, while leaving enough for one to realize that he is actually being serious. If flippant. And it's harder for Clark to decide which, because he wants so much to believe it.
"Impossibly." He traced the soft skin on the inside of his left leg down to the edge of the black spandex and back up again, and smiled as his muscles twitched underneath his touch, as if it tickled and he was trying to deny it. "But I should have known better than to expect an answer."
There was a small grunt, followed by a soft click around Bruce's hands.
"I thought I did answer you."
"You'd think." Clark fingered the inside of Bruce's knees, as much as he could while they were banded to Scott's rig, and nipped at the tip of his big toe. "So you spend a lot of time hanging upside-down. But do you live in a cave?"
Couldn't resist a bat joke. Just couldn't.
Bruce snorted, and there was a more audible clicking noise before his hands came loose and he deftly freed his legs, then flipped over and landed on the floor, pulling the blindfold off. He tossed it to Clark almost smugly.
Clark hit the stopwatch. Eleven minutes, twenty-three seconds.
"A personal best?"
"Hardly, damn you." Bruce pulled on a gray sweatshirt hanging from a nail in the concrete.
"Does that have anything to do with my newfound appreciation for spelunking?" Clark replied with a grin, in spite of the nervous edge he was still fighting off.
"It's a hazardous endeavor."
"I'm sure there are various techniques you could teach me. In the interests of safety."
Being flippant and dancing around the subject! Complete with dirty metaphor. Oh you guys.
Bruce smirked, and without a word, left Clark watching him walk back up the stairs, silent as a cat. Clark ran his hands through his hair and sighed, and almost missed the whispered word from the top of the stairs.
"Perhaps."
* * *
Essential Senses
Clark began to see that both pre and post-coital time would have a similar theme; silence, followed by the lazy shop-talk of Scott and Bruce; neither Barda nor Clark often had the technical expertise to chime in, but there was something very... nice... about it.
The Scott/Bruce chemistry became more and more appealing to me as I worked on this, and I wanted a segment that could really focus on that. I also wanted to do more with Bruce's comfort with Scott being a catalyst for Clark being more forward.
This all seems like a lot of thinky-think for everything, but really, there's few other things I've written that were done as quickly as these stories were.
Bruce was laying across Scott's chest and between his legs, matching pale skin and dark hair, and Scott was running his hands through Bruce's hair absently. Bruce had his eyes closed, and would appear to be asleep, if not for his soft conversation.
This time, they were recalling particularly close brushes with death, their closest escapes.
Clark had no idea just how intimately Bruce danced with death; it was startling.
"The trap had one flaw; it all hinged at a central point. Despite the intricacies of the bindings, slack on the left hand and a downward approach of the lock released all the chains."
"And it was truly designed by a master?"
"Not every master's work is a masterpiece. But I had trained under him, I knew how capable he was. It was the only reason I didn't fail."
This actually happened in canon; one of Bruce's teachers went down on his luck and was hired specifically to trap and kill Batman. Fortunately, Bruce knew the fatal flaw of the trap.
Scott nodded.
"Often my reliance on technology has made a few escapes more... harrowing than they had to be. Mother box has her limits, and I often push them too far."
Reference to the shift during Mister Miracle from reliance on Mother Box to being a more conventional escape artist, a shift I loved the hell out of.
"All tools have their limits."
Scott frowned and tugged on a lock of hair.
"She isn't merely a tool, as I've well made clear many times. Such continued regard can be disheartening to her."
Bruce smiled a little.
"I know, Scott."
There was a long period of silence, and Clark stroked Barda's thighs as he lay between them, tracing the definition of her muscles.
Because if I was just hanging out on top of Barda, that's what I would do.
"It's surprising, sometimes, what you think in those moments," Scott finally said.
"Mm."
Clark looked over, but neither seemed like they were going to elaborate, like they just knew what the other meant. From past conversation, perhaps. Or just past experience.
"What do you think?" Clark asked.
Bruce opened his eyes and looked over at him with an unreadable expression.
"If I was to die right now, would it all have been worth it?"
"What reason do I have to live?" Scott added.
"I have too much left to do," Bruce said.
"Barda would never forgive me if I didn't escape," Scott said quietly, with a smile.
This whole thing with confronting death scrounged together from inferences and statements in Batman comics, as well as what Scott often thought, when in a trap he wasn't sure he could escape; that Barda was waiting for him outside.
And I really do believe she wouldn't forgive him for that.
He looked over at her, and they reached for each other, holding hands over the pillows.
"It will serve you well not to forget it," she said with a laugh, "I certainly wouldn't."
Bruce leaned back again and closed his eyes, resting his hand on Scott's knee. It made Clark wonder again, just how a man like Bruce became so comfortable with people like this. Aside from his seeming withdrawal from everyone else, he'd repeatedly expressed an innate distrust of those with super-powers.
Clark never expected Bruce to ever really answer the question if he asked. So he asked Scott.
"How did he meet you?"
Scott grasped his meaning right away and chuckled.
"Bruce Wayne, billionaire playboy, approached me with a sponsorship offer on my tour. Oberon was still living with us then, still terribly uncomfortable with my stunts." He sighed fondly, "and, I turned him down."
"The offer was very good," Bruce murmured.
"They always are. But that wasn't the point," Scott replied, as if this conversation happened frequently. "That night, Batman got caught in one of my traps, and Barda hauled him in by the scruff of his neck."
"Not my finest moment."
I really love this exchange with Scott and Bruce. I felt like I'd really succeeded in finding their chemistry. Also, it brought Bruce Wayne into the story, which, because this is so removed from his life in Gotham, hadn't really been a factor.
"He's been complaining about handcuffs ever since," Barda said, and Bruce sighed.
Clark couldn't help but chuckle; Bruce gave him a cool, even glance. Still intimidating, even laying naked and content in another man's arms.
Don't laugh at me, you! XD
"Barda wanted to decorate the fence with his entrails, but I convinced her we should keep him," Scott said, "and we did, more or less."
The line about Barda came out of the clear blue sky, and I immediately loved it. I wasn't sure if it was a bit too over the top, then I figured; Hell, these are New Gods here. There's no such thing as too over the top.
"I was interested in training with you."
"Notice he says with, and not under," Scott said, smirking and raising a teasing eyebrow, "I believe it was the first time he saw Barda lift up the truck with one hand that 'under' became more apt."
"I was aware of her strength beforehand, I merely..."
"The lady doth protest too much," Scott said dryly.
"It was a mistake to introduce you to Shakespeare."
Incidentally, this is my favourite line from Shakespeare, from Hamlet. Finding a way to use it really made me all happy, heh.
"Perhaps revisiting some of those early themes will change your mind," Barda said, her voice husky.
Again, it's Barda that initiates the sex. It's kinda funny, really, how it's actually canon for her to be this way, so I mean, how could I resist working with it?
Scott placed his hands over Bruce's eyes as Barda nudged Clark up, over the two of them. Barda leaned up and grabbed one of Bruce's wrists, then the other, holding them tight in one hand, pinching his nipples with the other.
Clark was, at first, uncertain, even as the sight of Bruce groaning and writhing beneath him swept through his system like a drug. He reached out slowly to touch his skin, felt the quick pulse of his blood. Clark pressed his knees together, trapping Bruce's legs in his, and bent down, gripping Bruce's ass in his hand.
Bruce let out a breathy moan, and Clark grasped Bruce's erection in his other hand while Scott nibbled on his ears and Barda was leaning down to silence him with a kiss. He still made rumbling noises in his throat, that grew louder when Clark began sucking him between hot breaths.
I went into this story knowing I wanted the sex to basically be about holding Bruce down and doing dirty things to him. Most of the effort of the smut in this segment went into who was going to be holding Bruce how at any given point, and the logistics of it. Did a lot of thinking about if people could bend certain ways... and such...
He came with a strangled yell, and Barda released his hands as Clark licked him a few more times until he stopped twitching. She pulled him Clark back, then Bruce, forward against Clark's own erection, braced up on his arms.
Barda straddled him, facing Clark and kissing him slowly as Bruce's tongue began pleasuring him, the sheets tight in his fists, shutting his eyes against anything but the sensations and the taste of Barda's tongue, sharp and tangy, sweet and overpowering. She began moaning in his ear, and Clark looked again, to see Scott thrusting into Bruce as he fingered Barda, a hand braced on her waist.
Having Scott fucking both of them at once just kinda happened. I ran with it, because that's really, really hot.
She grabbed Clark's arms tight, pressing the side of her face against his, nipping at his neck.
Clark tangled his fingers in Bruce's hair as his lips became more insistent and he couldn't help but arch forward into him, directing the motions of his head with his hand. It made Clark moan with a spike of tingling electricity that went through him at the glimpsed sight of it, before Barda captured his lips again for a moment.
Before I continued with this scene, I had a nice think about Bruce being sexually submissive. Which was nice on many levels. My thinking told me that not only was it plausible, it was a logical reaction to the tight control he has over every other part of his life, and I kept it.
She leaned down and bit hard into his shoulder as she came, arching forward and grinding against Bruce.
Bruce dug his fingernails into Clark's skin and guided him into his own orgasm, licking around his shaft as he leaned into Barda tight for a long, intense moment.
When they fell back cuddling against the headboard, Clark was in Bruce's arms and Scott was in Barda's.
Intentional switch of post-coital partners from how we began, bit of a nudge towards the fact that I'd decided sexually submissive Bruce was more open and trusting, when in that frame of mind.
The silence came, with the sound of deep and content breathing and rapid heartbeats all around him. They were all sleepily smiling, even Bruce's lips hinted of it softly as Clark curled against his chest a bit. It was remarkably trusting, with his eyes closed again and not a trace of defensiveness left in him.
Right now, it was difficult to imagine him as the wraith that lurked in darkened rafters. It made him wonder how Bruce lived every day. Did he live alone? What kind of family did such a man keep around him?
"Someday you're going to have to show me the cave you slip back to, Bruce."
"Hn."
"I'll take that as a yes."
"As you wish."
Clark had almost drifted off to sleep when Bruce spoke again, to Scott.
"Have you considered attempting to increase the tensile strength of your uniform?"
This being a now continuing series, more is coming, but yeah. I feel like I got a wonderful vibe going with the air of mystery still hanging here and there, and now I'm just worried about pulling it back too much.
We'll see.
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on 2006-08-22 11:02 pm (UTC)I love watching people come to the realization that Bruce would be a hot, hot bottom. You can see it happening in
Oh, and making comparisons between Barda/Scott and Clark/Lois? The win.
I'm fascinated by how you use the JLI years as a way of getting into Clark's head, really focus on how solitary and lonely he is, and see the vulnerability beneath the bluster that marks that era.
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on 2006-08-22 11:27 pm (UTC)As great as Bruce is being dominant, there was something that happened when he wasn't; something tingly and great. ::laughs:: Suddenly he was alive in this very different kind of way, and it was truly fascinating.
I couldn't help but compare those two couples; the more I read about Barda and Scott, the more I really hate DC for almost every other married couple they've written, with the exception of Ralph and Sue, who are cute as a button, or at least used to be.
Superheroes should have girlfriends and lovers, but I don't think they're capable of putting a decent long-term couple together anymore.
I loved Clark during Justice League International/Justice League America because he was infrequently there, and when he was... it was very interesting. Because the initial book that inspired me took place in the 80's, I kinda just stayed there when it came to how I was putting it all together in my head, with AU turns... and there it was.
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on 2006-08-23 01:25 am (UTC)It says something about DC writers that the minute two people get married their relationship seems to become this gelatinous mass of boring. "Oh, don't risk your life! Think of your family! I worry about you!" Meh. Scott and Barda truly rock. I can't imagine what happened to Ralph and Sue was a coincidence, either.
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on 2006-08-22 11:11 pm (UTC)>>That line was written as a nod to myself, as I was thinking that I could certainly get used to this.
As you can tell, I've already gotten used to it. :)
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on 2006-08-22 11:31 pm (UTC)I'm really loving doing these commentaries, and reading the ones others have done. Best meme ever. XD
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on 2006-08-23 12:28 am (UTC)That's convinced me you're one of the very few people I want to see writing first (or close third) person Batman. And even first person Batgirl (the thought of which is normally enough to make me leave a story alone).
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on 2006-08-23 12:50 am (UTC)I do try. Getting in Bruce's head is like a hobby, heh. Or a full-time job. But it's quite a nice tangled mess to sort out.
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on 2006-08-23 01:58 am (UTC)I am such a happy, happy camper to have Scott/Bruce to read, and seeing how you went about the idea, how you managed their dynamic in your head.. god, it's amazing. These stories are hands down one of my favorite things to come back and imagine, because... well, it's like a bar joke.
Four superheroes get together in New Hampshire and have group sex..
No, wait. It's not a bar joke, it's a porn summary. The best part is that the story could be a porn fest, but is so much more. You rock.
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on 2006-08-24 10:28 am (UTC)It's funny, for a series that I started with the intention of being basically about sex... I did a whole lot more psychological exploration than physical. Like everyone was just way too interesting to have it be any other way, demanded it be that way.
I should use that as the summary for the rest of this series, haha. It's fantastic. XD
When I first wrote the first segments, it was totally off-the-cuff, like everything came together instantly from these ideas I'd been mulling over... and I had no idea what to expect from it. I'd finished, done a quick edit, and posted, and then actually was able to read it as something besides something totally wacky.
And now, of course, I'm totally in love with it. XD