stands_for_hope | for frightening: To Infinity and... just a little beyond that

for frightening: To Infinity and... just a little beyond that

Generally, when it came to interstellar politics, the first name called up among the Justice League (for good or ill) was Green Lantern. And when the request for arbitration came to them from a distant planet, they'd initially suggested the Corps to do the job. That, unfortunately, had started a political fiasco of its own at first, given some less than savory behavior from the Guardians regarding the planet in question in the recent past, but thankfully Diana had been able to smooth the ruffled feathers and propose a solution.

That was why Superman, well known throughout the stars and the last survivor of a planet many considered to have gotten a similarly questionable shake from Oa, had been asked to take on the mission. Given the distance and the unfortunate tendency for situations like this to be a trap of some sort, it had been decided he'd need a partner and Batman had been, in Diana's words, 'the obvious choice.'

Of course, Bruce Wayne's capability to deal with and even carefully handle politicians was well known to her, as was his ability to smell a rat at 100 paces should there be something underhanded afoot. Then there was simply the logistics: Gotham had decent coverage with Batwoman and others, and with Superman off for a week, Diana was needed to handle whatever might happen in Metropolis.

Which was why, after a bit of discussion (just a bit), Clark and Bruce were on their way to Voepra Prime on what was more likely than not going to be a PR vacation.

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Clark picks up the hint with a smile and settles against Bruce, partially drapped on him. He lets his head settle on Bruce's shoulder, dipping just past his ear to leave a kiss or two on his cheek as well.

It's nice. Simple and wordless and nice.

One of the best shallow points of dating a godlike, sun-powered alien is the warmth. Bruce really likes having a personal, affectionate, living heater that can cuddle up with him. He slips one hand over his opposite shoulder so that his fingers can brush against Clark, seeking out his hand to lace their fingers together.

They don't get this often. Being still and quiet together while intimate, not from exhaustion but just because they want to.

That hand laces fingers with him easily enough, adding another kiss to his shoulder before just settling down. There's nothing to do, no rush, no 'needs'. Another layer of intimacy exists in the fact that in space, the number of sounds that he can hear, that he needs to process through, is but a fraction of what he's used to. One more come from the fact that out here, with Bruce and just Bruce, his names and his roles and all the things he needs to do in a day sort of... fall away.

He absently reminds himself to thank Diana for this.

Bruce dozes, a rarity in itself. It's a small miracle that he doesn't feel squished by the man draped across his back; Clark is not small, and he is dense as fuck. But there's something comforting about it. After a while - perhaps even a long while - Bruce stirs and rolls a shoulder, nudging and manipulating until he can roll onto his back beneath the other man (you can float, make yourself useful). Hi there. He wraps his arms around Clark and noses against his throat.

He does, of course, because he can tell where Bruce is going and he likes the cut of his jib, so to speak. Hi, there indeed. Arms around him, a nose against his throat; he'd started to wake up but he relaxes again even if he's entirely awake, his own hands settling at Bruce's side and one, careful, stroking the hair at his temple.

And maybe he leans in to press a kiss, but it's just a small one. He can't help it.

Mm. Help it less, then; Bruce raises his head and nips at Clark's chin, demanding another kiss. He runs moves his hands down to the small of his lover's back, fingers curling there, rubbing circles into his skin. Everything is still warm and slow, but his intent is obvious.

Obvious enough, but he's going to enjoy the approach, the warm and slow and sweet that they're sharing. There's so rarely the time for it, after all. But there was a nip, a very firm request for another kiss, and he's not about to let that go unanswered. This time, the kiss is straight to Bruce's lips even if it's at a bit of an angle and he lets it linger. Mmm.

He's reasonably convinced that that 20-something hours is going to feel all too short soon enough.

He shifts his weight so they can kiss without either getting a tweak in their neck, still drawing gentle patterns on Clark's skin with his fingertips. "This is why you wanted to drag me out into deep space, isn't it?" he murmurs against Clark's mouth. For once, there's no irritation in his voice; Bruce is thoroughly relaxed beneath him. He sounds pretty pleased with the arrangement, even - how could he not be, here and now?

He tries to figure out how to answer that, since of course he didn't create a political situation on an alien planet or make the Guardians be utterly terrible or decide on who was coming out here. It's especially hard with Bruce pressed to him head to foot and so many warm kisses still tingling on his lips.

"It's why I was looking forward to it," he finally decides on.

Bruce makes a low sound, almost a laugh. That massage really did wonders, apparently. He presses another few kisses against him, bumps their noses together. Well. If something goes wrong and Bruce has to be redressed at super-speed, Clark's in trouble. Until then: more slow, sensual kissing.

Clark is willing to bet quite a lot that nothing's going to happen until they get to the planet. And to be fair, if anything does, whoever does that thing will have an exceptionally cranky Superman on their hands. Because he's getting sweet, slow kissing that's getting warmer and warmer by the minute and Bruce, Bruce Wayne, Batman is making happy noises under him.

Well, amused noises. That's just as good, really.

"There's no tactical reason to put in bigger bunks," Clark notes with a playful little smile, "so I'm glad we've found a way to make due with the space here."

"Who says this wasn't tactical?" Murmured against his skin. Bruce raises one hand to thread his fingers through Clark's hair and hold his head at the angle he wants, kissing him deeper, making a low possessive noise as he does. They have to be pressed this close, every space between them stripped away.

That would be true no matter what size the bed was. Sometimes, it's even true with all of their clothes on. Clark leans into the kiss, responds to that possessiveness with giving, giving his everything, leaning into Bruce's hands and his kiss and letting the softest, most needful noise slip out of him.

"Brilliant," is his feelings on that.

Bruce growls into his mouth. It's always so good with Clark, so good. Like every nerve ending is hooked up to something otherworldly and electric even when they're just kissing, even when his hand brushes against the other man's. Slowly but surely he's beginning to feel it when their eyes meet.

"Do you want me to fuck you?" He asks, kissing him again after. He can't get enough.

An affirmative grunt (he does those too in very select circumstances) and a nod as he takes another one of those kisses, clearly just as hungry for Bruce as Bruce is for Clark. Yes, yes, he'd love if Bruce fucked him. He'd agreed automatically, as much because Bruce doing anything to him was going to be fabulous as because he'd had enough fantasies that the response was automatic... but now the thoughts are actually flowing through his head and that kiss is getting more desperate.

Bruce can feel that desperation-- it thrills him, knowing and feeling how much Clark wants him. Sometimes it's still unbelievable that someone like this, not just someone godlike but someone so good, wants him. Loves him. His best friend. His partner.

His best friend and his partner who is so fucking hot.

"Get my belt," he demands in a growl.

The belt is in his hands.

Where had it been? How'd he get it? Had it actually BEEN in reaching range? Not sure, don't care, possibly not. But Bruce had asked for it and Clark, practically vibrating at this point, had delivered. It wasn't always like this; usually, Clark was settled. Controlled. Joyful and loving and yes, lustful as well, but there was something about this, something about being on a mission, being in deep space, that growl-

Later, he'd wonder if he had some sort of worksex kink. For right now, he was going to take another kiss from Bruce.

Mm. That kind of effectiveness deserves a reward. Bruce makes a low growled noise into Clark's mouth, his kiss turning possessive, edged in passionate aggression, fingers tightening in his hair. (The stands feel arranged slightly differently than they did a second ago. Superspeed is interesting.)

He can't help but wonder how Clark would respond if Bruce ever decided to corner him at the tail end of a night out. Maybe that's getting put on the to-do list.

Bruce sits up a little and manhandles the other onto his side, slipping the belt from him and pressing kisses against his jaw as he finds what he's looking for - lube, what else, and of course he's got that in his utility belt - letting it slide to the floor after. "Take these off." Another direction, Bruce's fingertips grazing along the waistband of his underwear.

...if Bruce decided to corner him at the tail end of a night out, Clark would get a definitive 'yes' to that question. He's already got an answer for whether he likes a certain amount of possessiveness (which is 'yes') from Bruce (which is closer to 'hell yes'). For the moment, however, he puts his focus on using his skills to get his underwear off (gone) before laying back against the cot.

Though he can't help a slight chuckle at the utility belt containing exactly what they need in this case.

"So I wasn't the only one considering what we could do in the interim."

Batman prepared for every eventuality he could think of. Which meant he'd thought of this one.

He takes a moment just to look at him. Clark is incredible in every way, honestly. Bruce runs a hand down his bare chest, fingertips caressing over the peaks of his nipples, against the contours of his muscles, below his belly button. Doesn't touch his cock yet. Instead he slips out of his own remaining garment, which has long since become too tightly confining.

"Hope springs eternal is one of your endorsements, right?" He's had it for a while. There's no need to conjure past entanglements - everything in his kit is replaced regularly to avoid expired products - but his life is, well, his life. Sometimes you just have to fuck somebody on a rooftop. Maybe he's been waiting.

Bruce kisses him and presses their bodies closer once again, erection against the other man's; the tiniest shiver runs through him at that warm silk-friction. "What position do you like best?" he asks in a murmur, still placing kisses against his mouth-- a practical inquiry, maybe not terribly sexy, but his quiet voice is still gravel-deep, and his hands are rubbing his ass, vial of lubrication held between two fingers.

Edited 2016-07-24 21:39 (UTC)

Clark reaches up and there's heat, of course, but there's also tenderness. Sweetness even now, with the two of them naked and pressed up against each other, even with Bruce's hands on his ass. But his touch on Bruce's face is firm and warm.

"I just want to make sure I can see your face. I need to know I can kiss you."

"Mm." Okay, then. Bruce gives him a kiss, accepting and definitely not objecting to that request. He gets Clark beneath him, still kissing when he can, settling into position so he can reach between them. He takes incredible care to make sure every touch is thoughtful and drawn-out, light at first, only slowly increasing intensity. Bruce knows it's already so much quieter out here, but he still wants all of Clark's focus just here.

He doesn't move after he pushes inside the other man, holding where they are, looking down at him - he takes one of Clark's hands and laces their fingers, squeezing tightly. He doesn't have to say it out loud. I love you.

He never has to say it out loud. Clark hears it, in the thrumming of his heart and the hard breathes he takes. Sees it in those expressive eyes and the even more expressive mouth, the mouth he can't stand to have out of reach. Sometimes he says it, because it's in his heart and there's no stopping it from flooding out. But just as often, he lets the words fall away and does his best to show in other ways. What are words, after all, to laced hands squeezing tight and the tilt of a head utterly enraptured with his pleasure, telling him with every touch and gesture that he is loved?

And it shouldn't be as soul-deep and meaningful every time. Sometimes it's not. Sometimes it's sex because sex feels good and they both have appetites and Clark has a very convincing way of pointing out that endorphins help the body to deal with pain and loosen the muscles. But there's always the echo of this, of moments like, beautiful and rare, where the whole universe focuses down to just the two of them .

Their bodies are moving, there's pleasure mounting, but Clark won't stop looking at Bruce's face, can't pull away from his eyes.

I love you.

This is new and mind-blowing: that soul-deep and meaningful thing. Bruce's sex life has never been slow even during the times he repressed himself, and fucking just because with Clark is the most satisfying and electric he's ever had but still just what it is-- then there's this, every second touching something intangible along with his body. He's never had it before and it puts light in the very core of him and burns. Sometimes it's painful but that never diminishes how brilliant and beautiful it is.

Bruce makes love to him the way he knows best, intense without holding back, without even trying to. No pretense or hesitation, giving Clark everything. Letting himself get lost and never letting go of the alien's hand.

He pulls Bruce in for kisses; that hadn't been an offhand request. He can't help it, can't help the moments when words aren't right but his heart overflows. When Bruce is too beautiful, yes, beautiful and he's too in love and the physical sensations are thundering through him in all directions.

He's close, so close. It's one more kiss that does it, one particular movement and one angle and one last flutter of eyes open at Bruce, seeing him when he arches up, into Bruce, Bruce into him that lets the groan flutter out of him.

for frightening: To Infinity and... just a little beyond that

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