When Worlds Collide [or Wham! Bam! Pow!]

Author/pseudonym: J.C.

Rating: NC-17

Fandom: Superman/Batman crossover

Pairings: Superman/Batman (or if you prefer, Clark/Bruce)

Series: The True Adventures of Batman and Superman (Story Three)

Disclaimers: All characters used in this story belong to someone else... but they still insist on hanging around me. And they're superheroes, after all, so nothing I'm doing seems to have any permanent effects on them.

Notes: Finally, our hapless heroes get down to action. <g> It helps if you've read the first two stories in this series, 'Face to Face' and 'In Unfamiliar Space', just so you'll understand the road that Supe and the Bat traveled to get here. There are other pieces planned, Story Four is just a PWP, a little light sexual entertainment, Story Five is about Nightwing's observations, and it seems there will be a Story Six, because these guys still have some things to work out. <g> And I may throw out more stories from time to time. (Now that I've got them right where I want them in a universe of my making.) <beg> Hope you enjoy and comments are welcome.

Summary: Tension builds when two crime-fighters with secret identities living in different cities cross paths again and again.

Warnings: none

"Mr. Wayne, Clark Kent is here."

I had been expecting it; after all, I had set it up. Drafted the memo for my secretary, detailing the situation that she would outline for Kent when she made the call. An exclusive interview with me -- head of Wayne Enterprises -- about the latest development from WayneTech. It was a little ironic, actually. Based on an incident that had happened to me -- an incident that Kent had played a part in -- my company had made great strides in miniature robotics. I was going to give a press conference a few days later, but I had set up this meeting with Clark Kent to give him a shot at me ahead of time.

'Set up'.

That's the reason why little bats were beating their wings against my insides. That's the reason why the expected felt like the *un*expected. Because this was all a big set-up. Sure, there was really going to be a WayneTech announcement, but that had nothing to do with why I had called *him*. And what made me nervous was that I wasn't entirely sure why I *had* called him.

I live life constantly on the edge... both in costume *and* in business. It takes a lot to rattle my nerves, yet beneath my cool, professional exterior, the factor of the unknown had me a little shaky, and I wanted to get to the bottom of it. All I had were vague impressions that had haunted me at odd moments, and one specific thing that I needed answered.

I'm a detective. It seemed simple enough... go to the source.

"Thank you. Send him in."

The door opened and he walked through, moving towards me, his footsteps propelling him silently across the plush carpet of my office. He was tall and solid, bigger even than I am, and I let myself really look at him as he approached. Even in that 'mild-mannered' guise that was designed to just blend in, he seemed almost larger than life. Maybe I automatically factored in who he really was, because as he stood in front of my desk, I wondered how he ever got away with it -- the pretense. There was something about him... or maybe there was just something about me.

"Kent. Thank you for coming." I rose, intending to shake his hand, instead I motioned for him to sit, using that to hide the unsteady tremor.

"It wasn't exactly an offer I could refuse. No self-respecting reporter would turn down an exclusive interview with Bruce Wayne. Lois is... shall we say... not taking it well."

"I can imagine."

Lois Lane is a strong-willed woman who is ambitiously dedicated to being a top reporter. But the truth was I hadn't considered her reaction. The interview had been secondary. It was the only thing I could think of besides some sort of crime-related issue, and I didn't want to seem like I needed his help... again. In the midst of my plotting, Lois had slipped my mind.

But, I didn't tell him that. "It's nothing personal. It's just business."

His eyes narrowed for a brief second, startling me, and I wondered if lie detection was part of his skills in trade. Did he have it in him to register changes in heart rate, or body temperature? If so, attitude alone wasn't really going to help me.

He shifted in his seat, pulling out a notebook. "Then let's get down to it."

I said my spiel, a close approximation of what I would be saying at the press conference, and fielded a few questions from him. Waiting for that appropriate moment to ask a question of my own.

"Bruce?" The sound of my name caught my attention, and I realized that my mind had drifted a bit. I looked at him, and he flinched. "I mean..."

In my surprise, I almost laughed, suddenly realizing that he wasn't sure what to call me. I searched back to see if he had ever called me Bruce to my face, and couldn't think of an instance. But then again, off of the top of my head, I couldn't remember ever calling him Clark, either.

I tried to cover my lapse of attention. "Well, I guess that's it. I appreciate you coming on short notice, and my secretary will be in touch for subsequent interviews and coverage of demonstrations and the first real-life applications." Bruce Wayne the businessman wrapping up business. There didn't seem to be a easy way to move onto other things... unless maybe an invitation to dinner...

He responded, interrupting my thoughts. "It was informative. Thanks for the opportunity. I just have one more question."

He had put his notes away, and was just *watching* me. The fact of his x-ray vision flashed in my mind. The memory of him looking beneath my mask and gaining the knowledge of what Batman does in his spare time. The idea that he could actually visually strip away my layers of clothing set the bats fluttering again. But I leaned closer over my desk, staring back just as intently, with my hands clasped together. The perfect look of steady, controlled concentration. I'm good at that. It's a trick that I learned long ago.

"Tell me what this is really about. If it was just business -- coverage for WayneTech -- you would have called in Lois. Or Bob Banton of the Planet's Gotham bureau. Is there a situation that Superman should be aware of, or is there something... else?"

Okay, maybe he's got a few tricks of his own, because that quietly delivered speech had me sweating, and despite the perfect opening that he had just given me, I felt totally off-balance.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I was just doing you a favor. Consider it a thank you for that help you gave me. I'd think you want to have one up on Lois for a change."

He gave me a look that I recognized, because I have a pretty effective version of my own. I used to practice it in the mirror in my early Bat days. Even through his glasses, I could feel the intensity. Standing up, I looked down at him and I couldn't understand why I felt so panicked. I didn't remember him as being so difficult to handle before.

Then he stood, looking down at *me*, and nodded. "Okay. Play it your way. But if something comes to mind... you know where I live."

In my head, I cursed him... loudly. Yet, I stayed silent, because I really wanted to curse myself... for screwing up the whole thing, for not just dealing straight from the beginning.

I watched his back as he left -- his departure as quiet as his entry -- watched my dinner plans slip away, along with my chance for some answers.

And there I was... shaken, but not stirred. And alone again.

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I wanted to jump out of the window... not that it would have mattered, since I can actually fly. Which is exactly what I wanted to do... fly far away. I controlled the impulse as I strode purposefully to the elevators. Standing there, I caught a glimpse of myself in the shiny metal doors, and was startled at the reflection staring back at me. I relaxed my features, breathing deeply, letting Clark Kent re-inhabit the plain gray suit.

Letting the anger go.

The whole setup had nagged at me from the beginning. I had been undecided about whether or not to even make the trip, but Perry had scowled and barked at me when I let my hesitation show. And Lois had looked too eager. Plus, it was a decent story opportunity: How Bruce Wayne had turned his kidnapping into something that could benefit mankind. It was just this funny feeling I had about the whole thing. That he had *asked*for me made it somewhat personal. Okay, I had been hoping it was personal, and that sort of bothered me too. I mean he had his secretary call... summoning me to his presence. Not exactly how I would have wanted it, but ultimately, it was out of my hands.

On the surface, the interview went fine. I functioned on autopilot, doing my job, all the while waiting for the revelation... or explanation... or invitation. Then he seemed to dismiss me. Like hired help. End of story -- run along.

But, I could sense that something was up. I could *feel* it -- he had this *tension* about him. I'm supposed to be a reporter. I figured I was on top of my game enough to dig out the information. True to form, it hadn't been that simple. Maybe we're destined to end every encounter with a show of attitude.

This time, though, it really pushed a button, and I felt my control slipping. I had to get out of there, but not before giving him something to think about.

It's not always easy being Martha Kent's little boy. I'm grateful for the way I was raised... for the part that it played in making me who I had become. But that's not all of who I am, and neither is Superman. There's this other being -- who has no place on this earth. As I've gotten older, occasionally, I've felt the rush of it, and the pain of having to hide it. I recognize the feeling as longing to just be me... to stand before someone as simply Kal-El. Just once.

By the time I got to the street, I was seeing red. But most of the anger was directed at myself. For suspecting... for *expecting*. For trying to hold onto a feeling that I'd felt standing on an airstrip. For Clark not being enough for some people, for Superman being too much. For letting the idea of shared knowledge fool me into thinking about sharing...

I clamped down on my thoughts, and was in the air before I knew it.

I was halfway back to Metropolis before I remembered that I had flown to Gotham City as Clark Kent on MetroJet - flight 667. Sighing heavily, I turned back so that Clark could go home.

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CHAPTER 2: Get Set...

=====================

It was night, and I was lurking in the shadows. Patiently waiting. Despite the fact that it was essentially an ambush, I wasn't keyed up at all. In fact, I was so relaxed that I didn't even feel slightly ashamed at how easily I slipped into the familiarity of it. Of course, it was possible that I would feel bad about it later, but right then, it was working for me. In my element -- Batman taking advantage of the darkness.

There was the thud of a car door closing, then the clack of heels on the sidewalk, and a large shape loomed into view, coming in my direction. I made my move, ignoring the start of that fluttering feeling, choosing the direct approach. Silently cutting him off, I simply stood in front of him, blocking his path. The startled expression on his face settled me, and I smiled. A bat-smile. Which really wasn't much of a smile at all. But it felt good -- *I* felt good. About seeing him, and being near him, even while I flashed through my own surprise, which quickly gave way to the stirrings of acknowledgment.

When I took a step forward, he took a step back. We repeated that slow motion dance, moving steadily out of the pale glow from the distant streetlight, until I had him backed against the wall in the alley beside his apartment building. Against the wall with me closing the distance between us. Trapping him.

Trapped just as effectively myself by the wave of recognition that hit me full force, refusing to be denied.

I wasn't a stranger to that type of... attraction. But I had bittersweet memories of the last time I had seriously entertained the thought of indulging. Bitter because of how disastrously it had turned out, how different I had wanted it to be... sweet because for a brief time, it had been just that. Yet as I stood there, I didn't feel the slightest hesitation. Just the pull... and the relief. To be there with him, in the flesh, and to finally *know* what I had been pushing away.

Of course, I didn't have a clue about what was going through *his* mind, and I had made the trip to get that information -- to *get* a clue, so to speak. So, I opened my mouth to question him, but instead...

I kissed him.

In the alley, in the dark... and he kissed me back.

He was hard, and so was I. Although *I* seemed to be hardest between my legs -- the flesh there pushing helplessly against the inside of the Batsuit -- *he* seemed to be hard all over. We weren't holding each other; my hands were clenched into fists by my sides, and I didn't know where his hands were, but my chest touched his... and one hip, and one thigh... and he was *firm*. I held myself in that position, not sure I was ready for how hard a super-erection might feel.

But his lips were soft. My nose was pushing against his glasses, and I could feel the strength of his jaw, and the solid thrust of his tongue, but his lips were soft. I hadn't expected that. Then again, I hadn't expected to be *kissing* him. And wet, they were wet, and warm... getting wetter and warmer every second. While I got hot -- confined in all of that Bat material -- wondering how hot a kiss would make him.

How hot could Clark Kent get? Superman. Super-hot.

I broke away before I could stop breathing or start coming.

He opened his eyes, bright like blue rays of light, and he was watching my mouth as I stood there panting. He wasn't even breathing hard... I mean, his chest wasn't heaving at all, but I could still feel each inhale like a cool vacuum drawing air past my lips, and each exhale like a warm life-giving breeze.

I stepped back and unclenched my fists; fingers protesting slightly as the circulation struggled to return. I put more space between us, and he finally moved. One hand rising to resettle his glasses on the bridge of his nose, wiping distractedly at a lens.

It occurred to me that neither one of us had spoken a word.

"I guess something came to mind." Six words. I figured that was better than nothing. I was surprised that I had been able to manage that much. Good thing the Bat voice is already so close to a growl. Something crossed his face that I didn't catch, but it ended in a little smile... or more like a smirk. I think I took his line.

I turned to go... I didn't want to talk, and I was sure that he was gearing up for conversation. I needed to sit somewhere in the dark and let everything settle in. What I was feeling, what I had done. What I would want to do if I stayed there any longer.

Even though I had never asked my question, I thought maybe I had my answer.

Quickly, before I could change my mind, or he could try to change it for me, I slipped away into the night.

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I had been waiting for him, but I couldn't say that I had been expecting him. Probably because I had been waiting for over two weeks. When I had gotten back to Metropolis after that meeting, and after calming down considerably, I had been sure that I would get a visit. After three days, I wasn't so sure. After ten days, I was trying to convince myself to let it go.

It had been a busy two weeks... Jimmy Olsen had brought a little chaos to his life and mine by trying to impress a woman. Hormones running rampant, good judgment running out the door. I hadn't been too hard on the kid. Unfortunately, I could relate only too well with what was going on with him, but leading people to believe that he was my best buddy had gotten him a lot of attention, and not all of it was the kind he wanted from the female in question. I had spent a good deal of my time lately saving him from the dire consequences.

It was late, and I was tired, not to mention frustrated, and harboring a lingering sense of disappointment.

An easy target.

And Batman hit his mark. Just stepped in front of me and changed the whole focus of my night. Before I knew it, I was in an alley, up against a wall, and he was kissing me.

And as unprepared as I was for that, it didn't take me long to return the favor.

It was strange and thrilling all at once. Strange because I hadn't kissed many people in my life. Strange because kissing him was like kissing a solid shadow -- everything blending into the darkness surrounding us except that wonderfully busy mouth. And it was thrilling because... well, for the same reasons, actually.

I was glad that I had some sort of instinctive response, because my famed 'muscle control' had escaped me with the first touch of his lips, the first slip of his tongue. My whole body was *tense*, and I was unable to will any part of me to relax. My fingers were scrabbling at the wall behind me, clawing bits of brick and mortar loose, leaving them to pile up at my heels. I didn't want to touch him... didn't want to break the moment, or come on too strong. And I literally didn't think that I could control my strength right then.

He wasn't touching me either, at least not with his hands... just through that kiss and the incredible waves of heat radiating from him, and the feel of his solid weight pressing along my right side.

It was strange, and thrilling, and perfect.

But, my clothes were getting too tight -- my tie constricting me around my neck, my pants confining me between my legs... I even seemed to be expanding inside of my hard-soled shoes. I was getting to the point where I didn't think I would be able to contain myself.

Which was when he stopped... and stepped away from me. Despite the fact that he hadn't laid a hand on me, I felt rumpled, and disoriented, but incredibly content. The only thing that really needed to be straightened were my glasses, which I did, and was about to say something when he beat me to it.

Beat me to the punch again -- taking the words right out of my mouth, as if he had discovered them while he had been kissing me, and found them to his liking.

And then he was gone.

I didn't know what on earth to do about everything that I was feeling, but at least it was starting to look as if we were operating on similar wavelengths. There were still things that I wondered about, like why he had decided to materialize out of the darkness, since I was certain that it couldn't possibly have been to plant me one on the kisser. And why did it seem like we were incapable of holding a simple conversation. And what would happen the next time that we saw each other. Or where, if anywhere, were we headed.

He hadn't left me with a clue about any of *those* things, but he *had* left me with a smile on my face, and a hard-on in my pants, and some reddish grit under my fingernails.

And for me, right then, that was enough.

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Chapter 3: Ready?....

===================

It registered as just a flash of color out of the corner of my eye. A streak that flew across the night sky, and I thought it was nothing. Wishful thinking.

I had just gotten out of my limousine, coming in late from a black-tie function. To me, they are necessary, but tedious and tiring, and I was looking forward to a hot shower. But first, I wanted to go down and check in on things -- see how the night had gone for the rest of Gotham.

And there it was again. A blur of blue and red that suddenly seemed to come to life in my line of sight, just a little ways off. Not wishful thinking after all. Barely twenty-four hours since that alley encounter. I had to admire the way he rose to a challenge. If the situations had been reversed, I knew it would have taken longer than a day for me to get past the contemplative stage. As it was, I wasn't totally sure that I had yet come to terms with what was... could be... *might* be between us.

At any rate, it seemed that my shower would have to wait.

I leaned back inside the vehicle and told Alfred that I wanted to go down to the BatCave, and for him to go on in... that I would put the limo in the garage. At least it wasn't a lie. He arched an eyebrow at me, but didn't protest, and I stood there by the car, watching until he was safely inside.

A soft swooshing sound signaled Superman's appearance behind me. When I turned around, he was standing on the other side of the limousine, smiling at me over the roof.

I was hit with a rush of pleasure at seeing him actually within reach, but I didn't smile back. He probably hadn't been thinking about how sophisticated surveillance capabilities are around the Manor. The shield of the limo's tinted windows was a convenient solution. "Get in."

He actually rolled his eyes at me before opening the door on his side, getting into the vehicle, settling into the seat, looking absolutely ridiculous as he tried to figure out what to do with his cape.

"You can't just fly in here like that. I have... people here."

He knew who the 'people' were -- he already knew most of my secrets. But he had no way of knowing just how complicated some of my relationships with those people were.

"Superman swooping in unannounced looks like an alert to some serious trouble, and I can't very well say that you just came to--"

I stopped. I had no real idea why he had flown in, and everything that was on my mind could actually have fallen into that realm of wishful thinking. He was sitting very still, and my eye was drawn to the end of his cape where it draped over his thigh, trailing between his legs. When I looked up, his smile was gone, and his eyes glittered inside the limousine's darkened interior.

"I have some news you might be interested in, if you need to... *legitimize* my visit. Something safe to tell the *kiddies*."

It would have been hard to miss the anger evident in his harsh tone, especially since I knew that he *liked* Timmy, and had no reason to have unfriendly feelings about Barbara or Dick.

I tried to clear the air. "Look--"

But he cut me off, continuing, "Our old friend, Luthor, has it in for you. And he has his eye on WayneTech's new robotics line. If he can't steal it, you can count on him trying to sabotage it. I've heard some rumors, but nothing that I can nail him with."

I had anticipated such activity from Lex. My security had been extra tight around the whole robotics project, but I had assumed that after the press conference, with no known attempts at foul play, the chance that he would still try something would be minimal. It looked like Luthor was starting to rival the Joker in the persistence department.

"Fine, I'll put my people on notice. And, look, sorry about... this. You caught me off guard."

"I know what that's like... You dropped in on me first, remember? So, what was that about, Bruce?"

His voice was deadly quiet. I felt as if he had slipped behind me, whispering in my ear, with a knife to my throat... going for the jugular all the way. Not that I intended to just sit there and take it. I knew that we had been tiptoeing around each other, but I hadn't started the dance. I distinctly remembered saying goodbye to Lois and getting set to fly off into the sunset, alone.

And hell, I can do deadly quiet, too.

"Why don't you think back to the airport? Why did you show up there like you had come to kiss me goodbye? What was *that* about?" Which was what I had wanted to know all along, anyway, and also was the answer to *his* question.

Even in the dark, I could see him go pale, then bright red. His whisper seemed to take on a defeated air. "I-- I-- I don't know... I just *felt* something... or *thought* I felt something... or there *seemed* to be something... I had almost gotten to the point that it didn't matter, because things between us seemed so difficult, and we seemed so different... but then you set up that interview, and last night...." He trailed off, those glittering eyes back on me. "Last night..."

And I jumped him. Because he was right, but I didn't want to hear about it. Things *were* difficult between us, but there was something going on anyway, and then there *had* been 'last night'.... And just like then, I couldn't bring myself to talk about it, but I could *do* something. So, I threw myself across the seat into full body contact, and shut him up. For a long time. Until my designer tuxedo was extremely wrinkled, and he had to be sweating buckets inside that caped costume. Kissing coupled with rubbing and touching, and moaning and groaning, until I was ready to explode.

Until this high, trilling noise sounded inside the limo... and vibrated against my hip. Slowly awareness hit, and I realized that he wasn't *as* long or *as* hard as I had been thinking, I guess that I had misjudged where his erection ended...

I pulled my cell phone from my pocket and answered it. It was Alfred checking up on me. It seemed the fact that the limo had never moved was a concern. I assured him that I was fine, and lacking a reasonable explanation, told him that I'd be right in.

"I've got to go..."

"Yeah, I guessed as much."

"Um..." What do you say? That was fun, let's do it again sometime, but next time without the clothes? Thanks for dropping by and letting me bump and grind with you? Want to try using your ability to fly to indulge in some lewd acrobatics? All I could come up with was repeating, "Um..."

"Yeah, you have to go. I'll get out of your way as soon as you get off of me."

So, I got up, and he got out, giving a little saluting gesture, and a wink of all things, as he flew off. I went inside, frantically trying to come up with something to tell Alfred that would explain the condition of my tux. After showering, and getting in bed, I found myself reliving those moments in the back seat... merging them with a fantasy of the two of us as lusty teenagers.

It wasn't until the next morning that I realized that I had never gone down to the BatCave, and the limousine was still parked in the drive.

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If it were possible for me to drop dead from shock, I would have died in the back of a limo, with a cape bunched between my legs, and a billionaire in a tuxedo as a witness. How's that for a front-page story for the Daily Planet?

I had started out for Gotham at least a half a dozen times before I finally decided to just go for it. Good thing I don't always have to buy plane tickets every time I want to take a trip. Even after I finally made it to the city, it took me a while to get up the nerve to go to Wayne Manor, and I was on my fourth fly-by when the limousine pulled up.

He got out, all dressed up in a tuxedo, with his bow tie untied, the ends hanging loose. I almost pulled his own move on him -- materializing in front of him, blocking his path home, but then I realized that someone must have been driving. So, I moved in closer, waiting for him to notice me, which didn't take long at all. Probably was the bat in him, but I let myself think that he had been looking for me.

When he was finally alone, I landed, and was glad that I had made the trip after all. I couldn't deny how it made me feel to be that close to him again. Even his gruff greeting didn't dampen my spirits. But his next words did. Pulled the rug right from under me. I knew that we only had the tentative beginnings of something... something that we hadn't even defined, and I hadn't latched onto any expectations. It's not like I had popped in to say that we should start wearing matching costumes or anything. Despite the large numbers of unknowns between us, I had just wanted to see him... assumed that after the night before, he would want to see me too.

A reporter should never forget the classic rule about assuming... neither should a crime-fighter, for that matter.

And feeling like an ass, for what must have been about the billionth time where he was concerned, just made me angry. I gave him the tip that I had overheard from the Planet's business editor. Then, I decided to pop the question. No more assumptions. Time to cut to the chase, and see what was what. Of course, if I hadn't been so mad, I probably would have thought twice about that, too.

I hate it when people answer a question with a question. Makes both of my jobs harder. And the question that Bruce Wayne threw at me... well, he might has well have whipped out a piece of Kryptonite from his pocket, the effect was that strong. It wasn't just me showing up at the airport, though by that time I had assumed we would never talk about it. Just one more of those attitude-laced interactions that we indulge in. But the 'kissing goodbye' remark... Subconsciously, *had* that been what I had done?

I did a poor job of covering my shock, an even poorer job of answering him, and didn't want to think about the mess I had created by making that initial appearance in the first place... prolonging my contact with him for some hidden personal reasons.

Shock, though, was nothing compared to what I felt when he pounced on me. I was beyond shocked... but I was too hungry to let that bother me. Hungry for the taste of him, the feel of him... hungry for the knowledge that, yes he wanted this too, no matter that we continued to have problems relating to each other. I was hungry for the contact, and damned glad to get it.

I had noticed long ago that I tended to get drawn into the physical side of things with him, and it hadn't escaped me that a dialogue had been started, questions asked, and not explored... yet again. But I was too into it to stop, and wanted to be so far into it, that we'd never stop.

Think we'd get *that* kind of a break? Not in this universe. Alien technology that can produce microscopic robots capable of mind control has nothing on the evils of the simple human technology that produced the cellular telephone.

He had to go. I could tell that he didn't want to go, so I was generous enough not to object to him leaving me hot and hard... yet again.

I flew back to Metropolis with still unanswered questions, but one thing certain in my mind. That we would see each other again, and finish what we had started. And if that was all that there could be between us, I would take it.

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CHAPTER 4: Go! (Or: Finally!)

===========================

Alone with him. Finally.

It had been an interesting evening up to that point, and I expected it to get even more interesting as the night went on. In a most pleasant way.

Finally.

It had begun with me dropping in and out of Lex Luthor's life. Bruce Wayne had had a late appointment at LexCorp, letting Lex know to keep his business practices on the up and up or be prepared to pay the consequences. And much later, Batman had paid a repeat visit to Luthor as he slept, letting him know the same thing in a somewhat less polite manner. Superman accompanied me on that visit... hovering outside. I guess he still had some reservations about my 'vigilante' behavior, but as long as he didn't interfere, I didn't have a problem with him looking.

We had ended up back at his place. He hadn't even asked. After leaving Luthor's estate, all I got to say was, 'So...', and he just grabbed me tight, and took to the sky. I considered it in my best interest to just hold on, so I did. I was caught up in the ride, flying high in his arms, so stunned at the sensation that it didn't occur to me to take full advantage of the situation for some fun until it was over.

He flew us into that same window through which I had first seen him change into Clark. And we ended up standing next to his bed. The two of us alone near a bed.

Finally.

We had to start somewhere, so I took off my cape and cowl and tossed it to the side. He reached out and touched my face, then ran his fingers through my hair. Slowly, we each removed piece after piece of our costumes, until we were both naked.

As I watched him, looking him up and down, taking him all in, it hit me that I was seeing him as he really was. Without benefit of costume *or* disguise. Stripped down. I don't know much about his true story, but I do know what it's like when you have to hide parts of yourself.

He was big all over. His shoulders, his chest, his hands, his thighs and what jutted from between them. A large cock with full balls. I thought it would be quite possible to come just from the sight of him.

I stepped towards him, and he stepped back. Flashing back to the alley, I hoped we weren't developing a crazy pattern. Determinedly, I grabbed him, pulling him close. It occurred to me, right then, that I had never been with anybody bigger than me before. Taller, heavier, bigger. I didn't let that stop me. I tugged him to the bed, pushed him down, and began.

We had built up so much unrelieved tension between us that I was sure the desperation running through me, now settling in as a throbbing ache in my groin, would make our first attempt rough and rushed. But as soon as I touched his bare skin, one hand resting on his chest, my fingers automatically rubbing his already hard nipple, I felt the gradual surge of sweet fire, and I wanted to do more than just simply bury myself deep inside him. I wanted him to feel that slow burn, as I got to know every inch of him.

I licked at his chest, going over the same territory that my fingers had claimed. Repeating that process all the way down his body. Pinching his other nipple, then biting it. Scratching along his side to his belly, then nibbling the same path. Stroking his hard length, and then sucking it in.

He looked fantastic, he felt marvelous, and he tasted wonderful. His body was shifting and flexing under my hands, shifting and flexing in my mouth, and he had started making a low growling sound that sent vibrations through me. I pulled free of him, moving back up, suddenly craving the feel of him lying out underneath me, shaking.

We kissed hungrily, wildly, and he *was* shaking, and it felt so *fine*... And it looked like things would indeed turn rough and rushed, because my hips were pumping, and the impatient, pulsing organ between my legs was pushing eagerly along any groove it could find, bumping into his hard-on with wanton enthusiasm. And I wanted more. In a hurry.

But suddenly, I froze. My body stiffened, and went still. I had been so engrossed in what I had been doing I hadn't even realized what had been missing, until he finally touched me. Strong fingers grabbed at my shoulders, ran down my back, and kneaded the muscles of my ass. A strong and powerful touch that was gentle and teasing as well. I tensed, was motionless for a few seconds, then moaning into his mouth, started some shaking of my own.

He rolled us to our sides, facing each other, his hands busily working all over me. It was too much. It had been too long. We had to move on; or else it was going to end for me right there, with him jerking me off.

"Clark..."

His eyes opened, boring into me, but he didn't stop stroking me with his hand.

"Can we... Are we... I want..." I was stuck. I wanted it all, and didn't know what he would want to do, or was used to doing. I guess maybe we should have had a conversation or two.

He turned over, reaching into the drawer of his nightstand, removing some items, handing them to me. "I don't... I've never... We can do whatever you want to do."

I listened in amazement. Though said hesitantly, he didn't seem embarrassed. Just unsure. My mind reeled, I hadn't been with many men, but I knew my way around, and I was suddenly faced with a situation that I hadn't expected. I had already considered the dangers of being inside him... super human strength, mindless with passion -- a man could get hurt. The idea of the contractions of his inner muscles had given me a few second thoughts. I wasn't sure that I was ready to come up against the degree of tightness that was being implied. I probably wouldn't hurt *him*, but I wanted him to feel pleasure, and I didn't want him to hurt *me*. We would need time to work on that.

Time that I didn't want to want to take then, because I was still running on high, and he hadn't flagged an inch.

"I want to do everything, but right now, let's take care of this together. We can explore other possibilities..."

"Next time. Say it, Bruce."

"Next time."

I grabbed the tube of lubrication from where I had dropped the supplies, and set out to finish things... until the next time. I slicked up both of our erections, pumping them together in my fist, then placing his hand under mine so that we were working them together. Too soon, I was on the brink, so I picked up the lube again, this time oiling up first his fingers, then mine, before placing his hand on my rear, and sliding my own hand around to his. I dipped into the tight cleft between those very firm asscheeks, teasing over the hole to fondle his balls, and massage the sensitive skin between. But, I couldn't resist the draw of being inside him, and, tentatively at first, then more firmly, I thrust into him. I felt him relax, muscles easing for a minute, then he was grabbing at my fingers, moving with the rhythm that I set.

Before attacking his mouth in another hard, burning kiss, I whispered, "Do me, too."

And his fingers were slipping inside me almost before my lips touched his. I didn't know how many, but I felt deliciously full, and I was moved to push one more finger inside him. Our kiss was frantic, our cocks rubbing together where they were trapped between us. It would only take a minute more for me, and I hoped he wouldn't be far behind.

Considerably less than a minute later, I was crying out, sobbing in relief. His ass clenched almost painfully around my hand, as he spasmed a few times, cursing softly. I laughed from the surprise of it -- Clark Kent *or* Superman cursing. We eased free of each other, both of us rolling onto our backs.

"Do you always laugh afterwards?" Another surprise -- he actually sounded breathless.

"No, only you bring out that kind of reaction in me."

"I see." Said as he got up from the bed. He looked magnificent in the moonlight, his belly glistening with the results of the night's activities.

"Hey..." I sat up, facing him. "I'm not laughing at you. I just feel good. It was... very good." And it had been good. Even just being with someone -- someone who knew about me -- had been satisfying.

He repeated his words, and I felt like we were slipping back into the realm of old. That area that we had been existing in, for the most part. That area full of things unsaid and things misunderstood.

I heard the water running in the bathroom, and felt I should get myself together, get out of his space, and head home. I was lying there waiting for him to finish so that I could clean up as well, when a few minutes later, he was back, and a warm cloth was moving between my legs, and over my stomach. Then he rolled me over, spooning up behind me, his hand resting lightly on my hip.

As I drifted off, I felt a teasing warmth as he whispered in my ear, "Thank you. It was very good for me too."

A little later, I floated out of a pleasant dream, only to remember that it hadn't been a dream at all. We were still in the same position, his hand still on my hip, but sighing, I eased off of the bed. It was late; I needed to get back.

As I got into the Batsuit, I watched him sleeping. He didn't have that relaxed, innocent look that most people have when asleep, but he did look somewhat less... impenetrable. My heart did a flip as I thought about what a privilege I'd been given. To see him like that. To have had him the way that I had. I wanted to stay, but I turned to go, then turned back to him. I leaned down, kissing him on the jaw, whispering in his ear.

The night was over, but there would be others. It was a promise I made to us both.

<<^^>>/<S> <<^^>>/<S> <<^^>>/<S>

Getting him alone and naked had been easier than I had imagined. With the way things had been going between us, I had envisioned more dancing around. I hadn't approved of his late night visit to Lex Luthor, but I hadn't discouraged it either. Just tagged along to see that things didn't get out of hand. And afterwards, I had wanted him to go home with me, with no questioning, no bantering, no discussion of any kind. So, I sort of bat-jacked him.

I thought that if he had some objections, he wouldn't bring them up until he was back on solid ground, and by then, we'd be in private, near my bed.

I fully expected to see a show of attitude, and I had already promised myself that I would let him go quietly, if that were his choice. But he stood there, eyes on me, and simply took off his cape and cowl. I couldn't resist the urge to touch him -- feel the strong lines of his face, finger through his hair where it lay plastered to his head because of his costume.

And then we were naked, at last. Layers stripped away. Just the two of us, with me indulging in the desire to stand as Kal-El (though he may not have known that).

He was beautifully masculine. The living version so much more impressive than the much used fantasy version that I had gleaned from the time I peeked under his clothes.

And I didn't have a clue what to do.

Well, I had a clue, but no practical, personal experience. As limited as my kissing had been, my sexual experience was even more so, and when it came to men... zilch.

So, I let him put me on the bed, and let the swell of needing him and wanting him fill me, hoping that instinct, and muscle control, and *his* experience would be enough.

I had thought that we would start with kissing, and let things go from there, but he touched me -- making my nerve endings come alive from my chest to my groin, marking me with his hands and his mouth. And the only thing that instinct was doing for me was making me give off this animal-like noise. I was helpless to do anything else.

Then, he was on top of me, bare skin covering mine, and it occurred to me that I hadn't yet touched *him*. So, I let my hands get to know him, feeling his solid flesh... broad shoulders, strong back, firm rear end, his muscles giving slightly under my touch. And then we were kissing, and we were shaking, and I couldn't believe what I had been missing.

And couldn't wait to get to the rest.

I positioned us so that I could touch the front of him, wanting to hold the thick length of him in my hands. Losing myself in that until he called my name. I knew what he was asking, and I was willing, though I tried to let him know what he was getting into, before getting what we would need from the bedside table. What I had bought late one night in one of the disguises that I use occasionally to ferret out information in out of the way places.

I saw the surprise on his face and hoped that it wouldn't turn to displeasure, thinking that maybe I hadn't picked the best time to not push for a discussion. His words reassured me, and I had no problem following his lead. Followed as we fisted our erections together, followed as we kissed eagerly, followed as we entered each other with oiled fingers. I let him lead me to a spectacular release -- 'til I was breathless and satisfied.

Of course, basking in the afterglow was cut short when he laughed, though supposedly not at me. It broke the moment, but didn't kill the mood. I readily accepted his hurried explanation, going to clean up, then coming back to do the same for him, not wanting there to be any bad feelings between us. I wanted to be able to savor the time we had left.

I wasn't sure how long he would stay, and I didn't think it would be all night, but I wanted it to be at least a little longer. So, I turned him over, and curled up behind him, resisting the urge to hold him tight, just subtly holding him in place with a hand on his hip.

I lay quietly, though I didn't sleep, and later when he moved away, I didn't try to stop him. He had to handle things in his own way. Whatever he felt he could give me, I would take. He had given me a lot already, even if he didn't know the extent of it. I have to handle things in my own way, as well. I listened to him dressing, heard him turn away, then turn back. He moved closer, and then there was a gentle, nipping kiss on my jaw, and a voice in my ear.

"Until next time... Kal-El."

I stayed perfectly still until he was gone.