A Lifting Fog

[shankie]

Continuing for a fifth installment, quick and dirty as always. All segments found here.

Clark makes an observation about the group dynamic, and gets a little closer to understanding Bruce and his relationship with Scott.

A Lifting Fog

Big Barda/Superman/Mister Miracle/Batman, and various combinations therein of various levels of subtlety, notably Big Barda/Mister Miracle and Superman/Batman. This one has a lot of Batman/Mister Miracle vibe.
NC-17


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.

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."

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."

"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.

"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.

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."

"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.

"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."

"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."

"Perhaps revisiting some of those early themes will change your mind," Barda said, her voice husky.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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?"

Comments

[victoria-wayne.livejournal.com]

::blush:: Thank you. :)