(FIC) Holding on (Superman/Batman, PG-13)
I got some homework done and caught up with most of the flist, so... here's some fic I wrote while feverish! It was meant to be Bruce dealing with the first white hairs for eve_k, but, uh. It got.. derailed. Sorry, Eve! It's still for you! I guess it just means I'll have to try again later, right? :)
Fic is set to Moby's Love Should, which is gorgeous.
Beta by the ever-awesome jij, all remaining mistakes are mine.
Title: Holding on
Fandom: DCU
Pairing: Batman/Superman
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 1100+
Summary: I know how it rains//I know how it pours//I never could feel this way//For anyone but you.
So it takes some time
And slip away
Holding on to love
Love should stay
Holding on to you is the best thing I'll ever do
The sky had been clouded when he arrived to the Penthouse. It hadn’t looked like a storm, at least not at first, but the slow trickling had turned into a torrent at some point while they made love. Thunder had muffled their voices, the bright light etching in his eyes the image of his lover laid out before him, a picture taken as the strobe light of lightning froze a moment and then another, all random, all perfect and unique.
Bruce’s look of wonder, his seducing smile, the inward moment of contemplation as he savored pleasure like an exotic and rare wine; mapping soft skin and hard muscle, bones and sinews like the first time, like a last time. But Clark couldn’t really laugh or call him on it, he too mapped and memorized, hanging onto the feel of soft lips and whispered nothings that meant everything, tender caresses or fiery looks under half lidded eyes.
Last times were not something they ever talked about. Ends were left outside the door, tomorrows discarded in favor of the right here, right now. They didn’t really have anything else. But even if they wouldn’t talk about it -wouldn’t think about it- the knowledge was there, in the walls and the floors of the quarters that had seen other relationships come and go, other people stay and then disappear, seen other loved ones die and never come back. So they mapped, learned and relearned, unwilling to forget, unwilling to let go.
Thunder storms always made Clark feel vibrant, an electric current going through his body as nature ran unbridled. Rain falling over the city, some sounds muffled and others amplified. Clark opened the window and carried Bruce with him into the skies, muffling the dignified protests with his lips, spiraling upwards and out of sight.
Bruce held to him for dear life -sometimes he would trust Clark with his weight and just let himself be carried, sometimes he would enjoy flying, the sensation a gift, other times… other times he clung to Clark like he was afraid, maybe not of falling, but of never taking to the skies with him again, like holding on could somehow keep Clark from ever leaving- the city quickly lost in the rain while they kissed. Lightning flashed not too far away, the smell of ozone thick for a moment, and Clark laughed. Bruce was staring at him with a mix of wonder and affection, and Clark knew he must look not entirely human, laughing with thunder and playing through the storm. He couldn’t explain how much it meant to him that Bruce was never fazed or scared by him, how much it meant that Bruce could take it all in a stride and hold onto him while they chased the storm. He had tried to explain, of course, but words always fell short, the sentiment too big to voice.
“Show me,” Bruce said, his voice completely drowned by the storm. “Show me where the lightning lives, Kal.” Bruce ran a hand through Clark’s soaked hair, the other still firmly holding onto him. “Break into its castle and show me, tell me what beasts protect its treasures, tell me where it goes when the sun comes out,” he was whispering by Clark’s ear now, Gotham gone from his mind, the whole world but another story in a book full of impossible tales. A flash of light, a roaring thunder, and Bruce laughed lowly, water running down their bodies like a lover’s caresses.
Clark shuddered, electric fields dancing before his eyes, each droplet a kaleidoscope, so easy to get lost in their reflections, in their molecular perfection. He took a deep breath, turning to look at his lover as he flew for the clouds, reveling in the moment. White and gray mist surrounded them, the sound of thunder never too far away as he dipped into the falling rain and the darkening sky only to bury them in the clouds again.
Without transition, he was kissing Bruce and twisting in the air, he was laughing and making dizzying arcs, he was free falling and staring into stormy blue eyes, always chasing the lightning in Bruce’s eyes, his unwitting god of thunder, his existence fleeting but powerful and imperious like a flash of lightning; sometimes an avatar of nature’s potential, sometimes nurturing like soft rain.
Bruce shivered in his arms and Clark plunged into the clouds again, this time coming at the other side to meet the sun’s fading evening light. Golden rays bathed them, droplets of water in their skin catching light like jewels. Bruce’s hair curled at the ends when it was wet, the black even more striking against the cold pale skin, his teeth chattering even as he kissed Clark’s throat, shivering as he lapped at the water in the hollow of Clark’s neck.
“Sun-child, golden-kissed, morning-blessed,” Bruce was murmuring against his skin between playful bites and loving kisses. “I’m not made of stone, beloved, brightest-star; I’m cold, so cold, and you don’t see me, don’t see my hunger, the terrible void, my love. Don’t let me fall, don’t let me freeze, don’t let me go…”
Clark pulled him up for a kiss, one hand on his neck, the other around his waist. Their lips met, slowly and tenderly, like the first time, like a last time, and he held onto it, the kiss growing hungry and bold, the feeling of Bruce’s tongue in his mouth, dancing with his, the smell of the sun on their skins as they bathed in the warm light. Bruce tasted of ozone and rain, of promises they couldn’t make anywhere but in their hearts.
They made love again above the clouds, the Penthouse forgotten, Gotham and Metropolis and the world distant for a moment of complete surrender. Clark gave himself to the lightning beyond blue eyes, holding on to his love like a talisman, Bruce’s labored breathing in the thin air mixing with the thunder below, Clark’s own moans like rain.
Release took him over like an electric current, white light blotting out all thought, leaving only the feel of Bruce, his weight a pin that kept him from falling into the sky, just like Clark kept Bruce from crashing into the loving cruel arms of Gotham. They drifted among the clouds in completion and peace. Not too high, never too low, they held each other in perfect balance between the sun and the storm.
Fic is set to Moby's Love Should, which is gorgeous.
Beta by the ever-awesome jij, all remaining mistakes are mine.
Title: Holding on
Fandom: DCU
Pairing: Batman/Superman
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 1100+
Summary: I know how it rains//I know how it pours//I never could feel this way//For anyone but you.
So it takes some time
And slip away
Holding on to love
Love should stay
Holding on to you is the best thing I'll ever do
The sky had been clouded when he arrived to the Penthouse. It hadn’t looked like a storm, at least not at first, but the slow trickling had turned into a torrent at some point while they made love. Thunder had muffled their voices, the bright light etching in his eyes the image of his lover laid out before him, a picture taken as the strobe light of lightning froze a moment and then another, all random, all perfect and unique.
Bruce’s look of wonder, his seducing smile, the inward moment of contemplation as he savored pleasure like an exotic and rare wine; mapping soft skin and hard muscle, bones and sinews like the first time, like a last time. But Clark couldn’t really laugh or call him on it, he too mapped and memorized, hanging onto the feel of soft lips and whispered nothings that meant everything, tender caresses or fiery looks under half lidded eyes.
Last times were not something they ever talked about. Ends were left outside the door, tomorrows discarded in favor of the right here, right now. They didn’t really have anything else. But even if they wouldn’t talk about it -wouldn’t think about it- the knowledge was there, in the walls and the floors of the quarters that had seen other relationships come and go, other people stay and then disappear, seen other loved ones die and never come back. So they mapped, learned and relearned, unwilling to forget, unwilling to let go.
Thunder storms always made Clark feel vibrant, an electric current going through his body as nature ran unbridled. Rain falling over the city, some sounds muffled and others amplified. Clark opened the window and carried Bruce with him into the skies, muffling the dignified protests with his lips, spiraling upwards and out of sight.
Bruce held to him for dear life -sometimes he would trust Clark with his weight and just let himself be carried, sometimes he would enjoy flying, the sensation a gift, other times… other times he clung to Clark like he was afraid, maybe not of falling, but of never taking to the skies with him again, like holding on could somehow keep Clark from ever leaving- the city quickly lost in the rain while they kissed. Lightning flashed not too far away, the smell of ozone thick for a moment, and Clark laughed. Bruce was staring at him with a mix of wonder and affection, and Clark knew he must look not entirely human, laughing with thunder and playing through the storm. He couldn’t explain how much it meant to him that Bruce was never fazed or scared by him, how much it meant that Bruce could take it all in a stride and hold onto him while they chased the storm. He had tried to explain, of course, but words always fell short, the sentiment too big to voice.
“Show me,” Bruce said, his voice completely drowned by the storm. “Show me where the lightning lives, Kal.” Bruce ran a hand through Clark’s soaked hair, the other still firmly holding onto him. “Break into its castle and show me, tell me what beasts protect its treasures, tell me where it goes when the sun comes out,” he was whispering by Clark’s ear now, Gotham gone from his mind, the whole world but another story in a book full of impossible tales. A flash of light, a roaring thunder, and Bruce laughed lowly, water running down their bodies like a lover’s caresses.
Clark shuddered, electric fields dancing before his eyes, each droplet a kaleidoscope, so easy to get lost in their reflections, in their molecular perfection. He took a deep breath, turning to look at his lover as he flew for the clouds, reveling in the moment. White and gray mist surrounded them, the sound of thunder never too far away as he dipped into the falling rain and the darkening sky only to bury them in the clouds again.
Without transition, he was kissing Bruce and twisting in the air, he was laughing and making dizzying arcs, he was free falling and staring into stormy blue eyes, always chasing the lightning in Bruce’s eyes, his unwitting god of thunder, his existence fleeting but powerful and imperious like a flash of lightning; sometimes an avatar of nature’s potential, sometimes nurturing like soft rain.
Bruce shivered in his arms and Clark plunged into the clouds again, this time coming at the other side to meet the sun’s fading evening light. Golden rays bathed them, droplets of water in their skin catching light like jewels. Bruce’s hair curled at the ends when it was wet, the black even more striking against the cold pale skin, his teeth chattering even as he kissed Clark’s throat, shivering as he lapped at the water in the hollow of Clark’s neck.
“Sun-child, golden-kissed, morning-blessed,” Bruce was murmuring against his skin between playful bites and loving kisses. “I’m not made of stone, beloved, brightest-star; I’m cold, so cold, and you don’t see me, don’t see my hunger, the terrible void, my love. Don’t let me fall, don’t let me freeze, don’t let me go…”
Clark pulled him up for a kiss, one hand on his neck, the other around his waist. Their lips met, slowly and tenderly, like the first time, like a last time, and he held onto it, the kiss growing hungry and bold, the feeling of Bruce’s tongue in his mouth, dancing with his, the smell of the sun on their skins as they bathed in the warm light. Bruce tasted of ozone and rain, of promises they couldn’t make anywhere but in their hearts.
They made love again above the clouds, the Penthouse forgotten, Gotham and Metropolis and the world distant for a moment of complete surrender. Clark gave himself to the lightning beyond blue eyes, holding on to his love like a talisman, Bruce’s labored breathing in the thin air mixing with the thunder below, Clark’s own moans like rain.
Release took him over like an electric current, white light blotting out all thought, leaving only the feel of Bruce, his weight a pin that kept him from falling into the sky, just like Clark kept Bruce from crashing into the loving cruel arms of Gotham. They drifted among the clouds in completion and peace. Not too high, never too low, they held each other in perfect balance between the sun and the storm.