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Same old trick

by Te

Same old trick
by Te
July 11, 2003

Disclaimers: I want some of those.

Spoilers: None.

Summary: Pillow talk.

Ratings Note: NC-17.

Author's Note: Sequel to "Through so many splintered trees," which is available here: http://teland.com/throughsomany.html

Acknowledgments: To Jane for audiencing, and to everyone else coddling me in my state of new fannish love.

Feedback: Yes, please. teland@teland.com

*

"It started back in Smallville. I mean... the thing with me and Lex."

Batman closed his eyes, shivering internally at the feel of it without the mask. It had been a long time, but Clark had went for the mask almost immediately, and the door had been locked, and... Batman sighed. "You don't have to tell me this."

"No, it's okay. I... want to."

Batman shifted, and considered rephrasing to make it clear he wasn't doing Clark any favors.

"It's... I kind of think I have to, you know?"

The moment had passed. He could feel Clark looking at him, something like heat against the side of his face. "How old were you?"

"I was... God, we were kids. I was fifteen, he was twenty-one. It seems like it's been a million years."

Batman grunted non-committally and rested his hands on his belly. Thought about the Lex he knew in prep school. Skinny but fit, working out in the absent time that had nothing to do with gym classes or fencing. Same time Batman was doing his own workouts. Thought of him cruising through History with heavy-lidded eyes and waking up all over, like electricity shot through him, for Chemistry.

"He was... he wasn't the way he is now."

Difficult to credit. "Psychotic?"

Clark snorted, but it didn't sound the least bit amused. "Angry. I mean... there was always something... he always looked hungry. Like he could eat the world and ask for seconds, like he expected to be disappointed by everyone and everything --"

"It doesn't sound all that different." And, really, didn't Clark know they'd gone to school together? He knew the Bruce Wayne name, knew where Bruce lived... Christ, if it were him, he'd have had a dossier prepared on himself within twenty-four hours. He did have one on Clark. It wasn't that interesting.

"No, I... I guess you're right."

Silence, and Batman thought if he played this right he could make it out of this bed and into his clothes and out of this room before this got any deeper. He didn't want to know this, it had no place beyond giving him more reason not to trust Clark. But he'd known he'd be hearing something like this from the very beginning. One kiss and it was all... fated.

"It didn't. He's harder now, Bruce. God. If I'd known then..."

"You wouldn't have touched him with a ten foot pole."

Clark laughed again, this time with a lot more realism behind it. "I think you know me better than that, Bruce."

And there was that. Maybe if he asked questions it would speed things along. "How long were you lovers?"

"What?" Honest surprise.

He clearly hadn't expected Batman to show anything like an interest, and something like that made him... made him want to cause Lex serious internal damage. Something. "You were lovers..."

"Oh. Yeah. Not for very long, really. We... we flirted a lot all through high school. I didn't even know we were flirting for most of it, and then I was seeing... other people."

That would be Lana Lang. "And then?"

"And then it was like... God, I barely remember it. Everything was so fast. Mostly, I remember it was like learning how to be something like as hungry as Lex was all the time. We couldn't get enough of each other."

He could picture it. Lex with all the adolescent roughness burned away, looking into Clark and seeing an unconquered country, or maybe just something too clean for a man like him to stand.

Shift beside him, long naked limbs and heat like he'd never need a blanket again. "I thought it was love."

"Men like him don't know how to love."

Low chuckle. "Understand that pretty well, Bruce?"

He didn't bother to respond.

"Anyway, I think it kind of was love for him, just not in any way I could... live with."

Clark could make a man feel like a pedophile.

"I think it was the kind of thing that was twisted and dark before we ever even touched. I think it was. I think it was fucked up before I knew it was there. Besides, only love can make you as angry as Lex is."

And then he would make you feel like there was nothing beside you but age, heavy and endless. "That's pretty cynical for you, Clark."

"Yeah, well. I learn from the best."

Hand on his chest, heavy and hot, stroking its way down the center. Lingering on the short hairs below his navel. "I could say something about your taste in men."

"You just did."

And Batman could feel the smile before it even touched his mouth. He thought about staying still, about not responding, but then Clark was up and over him, straddling his waist and looking down at him like he was trying to memorize his face.

Batman wondered what he saw in his eyes. What it was that made him search like that. In the end, it wasn't as important as the feel. Hot silky skin and hard muscle and the open invitation to... anything at all.

He flipped them with a grunt of effort, and pulled Clark's arms over his head. Held them against the bed. Something in the man's eyes made him know that Lex had done just that, and probably more than once.

Something made him press down on Clark's wrists as hard as he could and just watch for long moments. Catalog the feel of everything from the sleek skin pressing against the insides of his thighs to the wash of color over Clark's face and body that could be a flush or a blush.

"I'm not him," he said.

Clark blinked and narrowed his eyes for a moment before smiling up at him. "I know. I knew you were fucked up the minute I met you."

And there was... he could get used to Clark making cracks about him. It made him real in a way nothing else did, not even this... thing between them. This thing that could have been simple buddy sex, but really just wasn't. He stared a little longer and then leaned in.

Licked his way into Clark's mouth until they were kissing, but Clark didn't close his eyes at all.

"What is it?"

"You can't control the way your eyes change when you're getting turned on, Bruce. I like to watch."

"Pervert."

"Takes one."

Another kiss, and another, and Batman felt his spine settle into the position, something like a Muslim praying, arms outstretched and head down. Something just this side of obscene, both of them naked. Both of them stinking of what had come before.

If he had any sense, he'd pull back and walk out. But sense felt distressingly far away, and there was such a thing as barn doors and horses.

On the floor of his room. Against a wall in an alley. Clark's bed, his own.

They were starting to forget to fight first, and Clark brushed every nasty thing he could think to say aside like none of it was of any importance at all.

And anger didn't feel nearly as good as... this.

Cock to cock and mouth to mouth and sooner or later, they were going to fuck. Clark would spread his legs just that slightest bit wider, Batman would lose just that little bit more of his mind...

He could picture it easily. What it would be like to be buried to the hilt, the way Clark's face would get even softer. The way Clark would look at him afterwards, as if it had all meant something far deeper and more dangerous than anything Batman would willingly imagine.

It was like drowning in syrup. Sooner or later, the sweetness would kill him if the lack of air didn't.

Clark sucked his tongue and pushed against his hands, struggling with a complete lack of heart. He didn't want to go anywhere.

Batman liked him where he was. Squeezed the man's wrists once more before letting them go, settling his hands on his face and tilting him up into a better angle for the kiss and watching Clark squeezes his own hands into fists that wouldn't hurt anything but, perhaps, the headboard.

"Tell me what you want."

"Fuck, Bruce --"

"Tell me."

But Clark just searched his face like there was something there he needed to see and kissed him again. Harder, deeper, clutching Batman with his knees and radiating heat like fever. Like sickness and the last flaring beauty before certain death.

Batman rocked his hips and Clark held him tighter, grinding up for more contact, and it wouldn't be the first time they ended it like this, and it probably wouldn't be the last.

And Batman wanted... more.

Pulled out of the kiss and dragged his mouth over Clark's broad, tanned chest. Wet and soft as he could make it and Clark jerked and shivered and arched up against him. Offering, begging. It almost didn't matter which.

Slid his mouth over the head of Clark's cock and looked up just in time to watch Clark's eyelids flutter and close. Watch the muscles in the man's arms flex as he tried not to reach down and touch.

Did he want to hold him down? Guide his head for the best possible advantage?

The question was almost interesting enough to make him want to tell Clark he could move.

Almost.

He sucked hard, letting his cheeks hollow. Wrapped a fist around the base of Clark's cock and started jerking him off in time to the thrusts.

"Bruce, God Bruce --"

And that was wrong, so wrong, and it wasn't that he didn't expect it -- he didn't expect anything else, but just for once it would be nice to be called by his right name in moments like these.

He let the drag of his teeth tell the story of his frustration, but Clark just moaned and bucked under him. Begging for the pain right along with everything else, though Batman wasn't sure he would even feel such a trifle as teeth on his dick as pain.

Still, it made him wonder. Made him want to believe that Clark was always just this screwed up, and that it didn't have a thing to do with the billionaire in Stryker's.

But really, he'd spent enough time with criminals and madmen not to even bother trying to hope that it didn't.

God, they were all such fuckups.

He jerked faster and sucked harder and listened for the desperate, strangled keening that he knew meant the man was going to come.

Listened and wanted.

"Bruce," he said again, and then there was a hand on his hair, but not doing anything as sane as grabbing for his ears or holding his head in place. Just... stroking his hair. Gentle and shaking a little with the effort of being so.

He would fuck Clark soon, he knew.

For now... for now it was enough to swallow him down and listen to every desperate, open cry.

To wait until he looked at him before licking his lips.

To drive his hips against Clark's own, head of his cock catching on the man's abdominals, huge, hard hands braced on his hips and urging him on, urging him faster, harder and the look on Clark's face was...

It was like staring into the sun on a dare. Painfully bright and honest and it was too much to ask for Batman to look away.

Some things had to be done.

"Come on me. Make me feel it oh God --"

"Clark," he said, and bit his lip hard enough to taste iron, shook his head against the desire to say more, be more, and came so hard it was painful.

Of course.

Held himself up on shaking arms, up and away, but didn't bother trying to fight when Clark pulled him close. Right into the mess, hot and sticky and claustrophobically close.

He wasn't afraid.

"Bruce..." Whispered into his hair. Kissed onto his forehead.

Batman closed his eyes and waited for Clark's hold on him to loosen enough for him to get away.

Thought about Luthor, alone in his ugly little cell.

Wondered which of them was better off.

End.


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