Work Text:
Clark Kent sat down in front of the computer in his apartment and waggled his fingers over the keyboard before beginning to type. On the other side of the room, Bruce Wayne was thumbing through notes on the couch.
"Let me just check my email first." Clark tapped at the keyboard a bit. "Oh look! An important email from Congenital L. Adage. 'Cealiss gives roclk hard elrectionls.'" He pronounced the subject heading as it was spelled, making Bruce snigger. "What? You find roclk hard elrectionls funny, Bruce?"
Bruce pulled the corners of his mouth down. "Heaven forbid. What are you looking up on the net, anyway?"
Clark shrugged. "I've found that lots of odd rumors and conspiracy theories float around out there, on blogs and stuff. It never hurts to do a quick search and see if someone has a 'nutty theory' that is closer to the truth than they realise." He went to a search engine and started to type in some terms. "Let's see...we know that Luthor's planning something to try and take out Superman and Batman and that the code name for the project is something along the lines of 'blades' or 'cut' or some such...but there's nothing with those terms, darn. Do you know any other synonyms for 'cut,' Bruce?"
Bruce suggested one absent-mindedly, focused on sorting through his note cards. It took him a while to realize that Clark had gone alarmingly quiet. Had the reporter found something and didn't trust him enough to share it? He jumped up from the couch and hurried to the computer. When Clark noticed he was coming over he tried to close the window he was looking at but only succeeded in clicking "back" to another incriminating page. The reporter dropped the mouse like it was white-hot and leaned back, his face a brilliant shade of red.
"What the hell is this, Clark?"
Clark cleared his throat, started to speak, cleared his throat again. "It seems to be a community for people who like to write stories about Superman and Batman, uh...together."
"Together?"
"You know...together."
Bruce went back to the couch and sat down a little too quickly, to hide slightly weak knees. "That's ridiculous! Batman and Superman can hardly stand each other. Total opposites."
Clark shrugged, his face still scarlet. "That...seems to be part of the appeal, actually."
Bruce couldn't help but chuckle. "Well, you have to admit he'd be quite a challenge."
Clark laughed wryly as well. "That's for sure. The paranoid streak, the controlling stubbornness, all that leather..."
Bruce frowned. "I meant Superman."
"Oh."
Bruce leaned back and allowed himself a secretly knowing smirk. "I bet they have a lot of fun writing all the ways Batman would top that alien."
"Actually...the consensus seems to be that Superman would be the top, at least in their first encounter."
"What?" Bruce yelped.
Clark looked thoughtfully at the screen. "Actually, that makes perfect sense when you think about it. Someone so rigidly controlled as Batman would probably experience a particularly voluptuous pleasure in relinquishing control to someone who treated him masterfully. Faced with a commanding figure who took control of the sexual encounter, he would probably find sexual surrender an experience of amazing intensity."
Clark waved a hand, warming up to his subject and failing to notice the increasing agitation of the man across the room. "You can definitely see the appeal. It would be the very unlikeliness of Batman enjoying being the submissive, penetrated party that would make it nearly inevitable he be written that way. The complete abdication of self-control in the face of all-consuming lust would be--" he stopped.
Bruce had made a very small sound.
Clark abruptly became aware that his friend's heart rate and blood pressure had soared since he had started his little lecture. A slight rustling sound made it clear that he was shifting uncomfortably on the couch. Squirming, practically.
Oh hoh.
The sudden shift from academic discussion to more concrete issue sent Clark's heart rate skyrocketing in turn, as he suddenly found that he had a problem with "roclk hard elrectionls" after all.
How exactly to take advantage of this unexpected windfall? Clark pondered for a moment, then clicked a link, continuing to talk blithely as if nothing had changed.
"I mean, for example, here's a story that has Superman and Batman meeting each other in a hotel room where a crime has taken place, a burglary or something. The two of them talk for a while--they always seem to talk for a while--and then Batman says something that's just a little too snarky, and Superman shoves him against a wall and holds him there so he can't move, although he struggles mightily."
"Oh?" Bruce managed to sound slightly bored, which must have been quite a feat since Clark's hearing told him the playboy was anything but. "What happens next?" he asked idly.
"Let's see...there's more talking...and then Superman...um, leans forward and bites his neck, just hard enough to hurt a little through the armor. He slides his mouth up and claims Batman's mouth with fierce possessiveness, finally taking what he's been dreaming of taking for so very long."
"And then?"
"Well, what would you think would happen next?"
Bruce's breath hitched just a bit. "Um, I suppose Batman would put his arms around Superman so he could finally feel the body beneath all that silky cloth beneath his hands."
"Yeah, that's exactly what happens, good call. And then he puts his hands on Superman's ass--"
"--glorious ass."
"Um, right, glorious ass, and pulls him so close that even Superman feels out of breath." Clark sneaked a quick look at Bruce. The other man's eyes were closed dreamily and his hips were twitching slightly. "What happens next, Bruce?"
"They're in a hotel room, right?"
"Right."
"Then Superman probably throws Batman onto the bed and--uhn--pins his hands above his head with one hand, effortlessly, and tells him that it's about time they finally do what they've both wanted to do all along, and he's not going to take no for an answer."
"Close, close, but you forgot the detail that Superman's taking off his armor while he says that."
"Uh-huh, so Batman can finally feel all of that unbelievable body up against his, holding him down and making him submit and give in and....uh..." Bruce's voice trailed off into a throttling moan that made Clark dizzy. "What happens next, Clark?" he asked huskily, and it was finally more than Clark could bear.
He found himself on the couch straddling Bruce, feeling what was very definitely a rock-hard erection beneath his, his hands on Bruce's shoulders, pushing him back almost roughly. "Do I have to put on a Superman costume to get your attention, Bruce?" he asked.
Bruce's blue eyes sparked up at him, his face flushed. "Don't be ridiculous, Clark, you'd look damn silly. All you need to do is take--" a thrust of the hips against his that made Clark gasp, "--what you want." Another thrust.
Clark took what he wanted. First Bruce's lips, which were parted and hot and moist, and he could taste Bruce's moans as he pressed the other man's head back into the couch with the force of the kiss. Then he took Bruce's clothes off as quickly as possible without looking suspicious, while Bruce squirmed and put up an entirely unconvincing pretense of reluctance, clutching Clark's hands to his body wherever he could manage in the middle of his "struggles." He managed to rub just about every part of himself up against Clark's cock in the process, until Clark had to hold him down in earnest just to keep from climaxing embarrassingly early.
Then finally, finally, he took what he wanted most of all, with Bruce beneath him calling his name between gasps and moans. He made Bruce beg for more, and more, and more, and he always had more to give, and Bruce was screaming and laughing at the same time and it was all impossibly good.
Later, sated and sleepy, he was lying on the couch which was really too small for two people, with Bruce rolled on top of him, their legs tangled together.
"So how does the story end, just out of curiosity?"
"Story? Oh, that. There was no story, I was just making it up as I went along."
A throaty, incredulous chuckle against his neck. "You should become an author, then. They'd love you. That was a good story."
"I had a good co-author."
A comfortable silence. Bruce began pressing kisses into Clark's jawline, somewhat dreamily.
Clark yawned. "If I ever meet Superman, I'll have to tell him you have a thing for him."
A kiss turned into a bite that might even have been painful to anyone else. "If you can't realize that Superman was just a substitute for you, then you're as stupid as I thought you were when I met you." Another kiss on top of the bite. "Who needs a Superman when I have you?"
Clark Kent wrapped his arms around his lover, who was as smart and brave and appealing as Batman, but notably more pleasant, and smiled to himself.