FIC: The Joy of Mekhzh
Title: The Joy of Mekhzh
Characters/Pairings: Superman/Batman
Rating: R
Summary: Batman finds out about a possible weakness in the Man of Steel's defenses and investigates, with interesting results.
Word count: 3300
Continuity: Toonverse
Notes: For
paxwolf's birthday! What better to write for a person who writes some of the best lyrical, delicate pre-slash in the fandom than 3,300 words of smuttiness? >_< The basic idea taken from
trascendenza's musings about possible unexpected Kryptonian erogenous zones...
Superman was a warm man, an affectionate man.
But he had never been what you would call a hugger.
With one exception--one which Batman tried not to remember too often--Batman had never seen him hug his teammates. Or even the people he saved. Hugs from other people he politely disentangled himself from as quickly as possible.
Superman also hated back-slapping, Batman realized. Both Superman and Clark winced away from hearty back slaps like the kind delivered by the Flash or Steve Lombard.
Usually this would merely be an interesting observation. But as Batman sat in the cave reviewing tapes of the latest fight, he noticed something for the first time: subtly, almost imperceptibly, Superman avoided having villains hit his back. It was often unavoidable, of course, but when possible in the most recent fight with Mongul Superman shielded his back even when it opened him up elsewhere.
Frowning, Batman reviewed other tapes. There it was again, a tiny vulnerability: a tendency to guard his back just a bit too carefully. Was there a Kryptonian Achilles' heel there that Batman had never been told about?
Still scowling, Batman pulled up the reams of Kryptonian medical files Clark had shared with him. If there was something about that area of the body that made Superman vulnerable, Batman should know about it.
His search was fruitless for hours. It wasn't that the information was locked or coded, just that it was mentioned rarely, obliquely, in extremely euphemistic language. Eventually, however, Batman had pieced together enough to understand.
The mekhzh. It was a small spot on the back of each male Kryptonian between the shoulder blades, about the size of a dime, almost imperceptible externally.
It was apparently a subsidiary sexual organ.
Bruce's eyebrows rose as he read on. The mekhzh, like the penis or breasts, was very sensitive, and being hit directly there would be incredibly painful. But when stroked or massaged it caused intense sexual pleasure in the male Kryptonian. "Stroking the mekhzh involves arousal of the entire sexual system, linked to the brain in ways far more deep and sensual than mere penile stimulation," explained the extremely dry biology text Bruce found. "The climax experienced from mekhzh stimulation involves no issue--" the manual used an archaic word that seemed to mean "ejaculation," "--but is approximately one hundred times more intense than orgasm from intercourse."
Bruce stared. One hundred times--!
This seemed a potentially serious security issue.
This bore further investigation.
: : :
Superman was poring over interstellar maps with the Flash, Green Lantern, and Hawkgirl as Batman came into the room. He watched them as they quarreled over some measurements, watched how Superman's shoulders tensed. When Flash announced that he was taking a break to clear his head and he and John started to throw a green glowing football around the main hall, Superman sank into a chair, sighing. Batman came up behind him.
"You seem tense."
"Rough day, I guess." Superman sighed and stretched his shoulders, stopping when Batman's hands came to rest on them.
"I'll give you a backrub," Batman suggested.
Superman laughed slightly. "No offense, Batman, I'm sure your hands are strong and all, but they're not going to have much effect. Hawkgirl's mace might do better." Hawkgirl looked up from the maps and smiled briefly.
"A backrub can be relaxing anyway," Batman said, kneading at the shoulders gently.
Another snort. "Since when do you take such an acute interest in my state of relaxation, Batman?"
"It's important that each member of the team be rested and relaxed, of course," Batman said blandly, his hands sure and certain on Superman's shoulders. "Let me get the cape out of the way," he added, flipping it up and over Superman's back so it fell across the Kryptonian's lap. Then he went back to rubbing, letting his hands drift very slightly lower.
Superman twitched at even that very slight downward motion. "Uh, the tension's pretty much all in my shoulders, Batman. My back's fine."
"They're all connected, you know. The tension in your back affects the stress in your shoulders." As he said that, Batman let one thumb trail lightly over the spot where the key patch of skin should be.
The effect on Superman was immediate: he stiffened in his chair, head falling back slightly. "Uh," he said softly.
Batman moved his hands back up to the shoulders, keeping them firm and confident. "Just like a team, Superman. One part of the system affects all the others."
"You--sound like J'onn." The teasing tone in Superman's voice hid a barely-perceptible tremor.
Bruce slid his thumbs downward again, but this time worked around the spot, not touching it. He heard a soft hiss of breath from Superman. Was the Kryptonian hoping he wouldn't brush that spot again?
Or was he hoping he would?
Flash and Lantern streaked by, throwing the football like a blur between them. Batman rested his hands lightly on Superman's shoulders, giving him an opportunity to stand up, to declare the backrub over.
The Kryptonian didn't move.
"The Martian has a different way of looking at things, but not necessarily invalid," Batman noted blandly, starting to knead those strong shoulders again. This time when his hands drifted downward he let one of his thumbs pass over the spot with agonizing slowness, and Superman moaned.
Hawkgirl looked up from her paperwork in surprise and Superman said "He's very good, actually. You wouldn't think someone that cranky would give such a good backrub." The casualness of his tone was strained, but she merely grinned and went back to her papers.
Batman started to include the key location in each of his stroking passes of the Kryptonian's back and shoulders, his thumbs stroking across it languidly. "Is that okay?" he asked.
Superman's voice was tight and too high. "That's--good. Very good."
"I can stop if it isn't having any effect."
"It's--" Superman stopped to catch his breath as black-clad thumbs touched him again, "--it's having an effect. You don't--have to stop."
Batman looked into the dark, reflective windows across the way. He could see Superman's face in them, the eyes half-closed, the mouth lax and sensual. Superman's head was thrown very slightly back. Batman caressed his back again and Superman's face tightened. "Oh," he said, his voice tense. "Don't stop."
"Relax, Clark," Batman murmured in his ear, and Superman jerked at the sound. "You can relax, just a little." Both thumbs there now, pushing, coaxing, gentle and demanding. "It's just a backrub. Relax."
Superman took a hoarse breath and went rigid beneath Batman's hands. "Rao," he choked, shuddering. His hands clenched on the arms of the chair and they crumpled like paper. He took another deep breath and his face cleared with an obvious effort. He looked down at the crushed arms and then up at Batman with chagrin. "I'm sorry," he muttered, "I'm not very good at...receiving backrubs."
"On the contrary," Batman said smoothly, "I think you're very good. Are you more relaxed now?" he asked casually.
"I--" Superman stretched his arms gingerly. "Yes. I feel--much better, actually." Even his voice sounded less strained. He smiled guilelessly at Batman. "Thank you."
Batman bowed slightly as Superman called the other members back to work. "It was my pleasure," he murmured.
He went back to his quarters slowly, his mind filled with the image of Superman's face rigid with climax in the starry window, the sound of Superman's voice telling him not to stop. He had to stop and lean against a wall briefly, dizzy with the feel of Clark's steel shoulders clenching under his hands. An experiment. A test of potential team vulnerabilities.
The only chance Bruce might ever have to bring Clark that kind of pleasure.
He felt heat and desire in him, a desire that he had always been so careful not to see, and knew this experiment had been an unwise tactical move.
: : :
Superman was on monitor duty, keeping an eye on the banks of screens. Hawkgirl and Wonder Woman were doing some cautious sparring in the middle of the hall, the Flash watching appreciatively. Diana went flying against a window and Superman winced. "Watch it, would you?" he snapped without thinking.
Wonder Woman rolled her eyes at Hawkgirl. "Cranky Kryptonian," she noted.
Wally laughed. "He needs another of your magic backrubs, Batman."
Superman jumped a little. He hadn't noticed Batman entering the room.
"Magic backrubs?" Wonder Woman sounded amused.
"Yeah, the Bat gave him a backrub during that big strategy session last week and he was a sweetheart after."
"Oh yeah, that," Superman said casually. "I suppose it helped." As if he hadn't thought about that backrub--and its unintended side effects--almost constantly since then. He hoped he wasn't blushing.
Batman drifted closer to the chair in which Superman was sitting. "I could give you another, if you like."
Superman swallowed. He shouldn't take advantage of his friend this way. If Batman knew he was experiencing carnal bliss from his backrubs...
"Sure. That would be nice."
Nice. Superman felt a stab of annoyance at himself mixed with frank desire as Batman's dark hands came to rest on his shoulders again. He'd never had an orgasm from having his mekhzh stimulated before--the angle made it pretty much impossible to do yourself--and now he wasn't sure how he had ever lived without it. Just feeling the leather gloves caressing his shoulders, nowhere near the right spot, filled him with cramping desire, aching hunger. He sighed and Batman murmured, "Relax."
"Sorry. It feels good," Superman said. It did feel good, having those sure hands warm on his shoulders, touching him gently. It just didn't feel as good as--Batman's hands shifted slightly lower and Superman tensed himself for the rush of sensation, but they retreated, leaving him frustrated and desperate. "You can--" he shrugged his shoulders slightly, encouraging the hands to go lower, feeling guilty. "You know, last week, how you massaged the whole back?"
"That was good?" The hands drifted down, strong thumbs working at his tense muscles, closer. Closer.
"Yes. That was good." Superman found himself unable to say anything more elaborate as anticipation gripped him.
Batman's hands finally brushed the right spot, and sparks and flares of passion went off behind Clark's eyes, electricity spasming through his body. From just one touch. "Good," he grunted.
Batman set up a rhythm like the last time, his fingers strong and agile, stroking, every touch spiraling Clark higher into rapture. Wonder Woman and Hawkgirl started sparring again and Clark stared at them sightlessly, trying to keep his breath slow and even. He found himself gripped by a mad desire to tell Bruce how good this felt, to babble desperately about how much he'd been wanting this. Was that an effect of the stimulation, or of Bruce's presence? "You've got--good hands," he said as a compromise, trying not to pant.
"Thank you," Batman said smoothly as his fingers sent shattering pleasure through Clark's body. Another pass and Clark realized that he was on the brink, one more touch and he'd climax again, and he braced himself to not show his reaction too obviously, braced himself against the warmth and light that would lift him beyond himself, transport him entirely.
And kept waiting. Batman's hands stayed on his shoulders, leaving him suspended on the edge, the orgasm hovering a whisper close. It was nearly unendurable, and Clark felt words welling up in him again, demands and pleas and confessions...
The Flash was looking at him, saying something, and Superman couldn't answer him because if he opened his mouth for any reason at all he'd start begging Batman to touch him in the right place again, to grant him release. So he clamped his mouth shut and was relieved to hear Batman answer for him, explaining which mission J'onn was currently on.
In the middle of Batman's explanation, his hands finally happened to stray across the right place again, a single hard stroke that toppled Clark helplessly over the edge and into white-hot climax. He gritted his teeth against moans and cries and kept his face bland with a truly Herculean effort, feeling every muscle in his body relaxing into sated pleasure, his shoulders slumping. Batman's hands were warm and gentle now, caressing him lightly, and the sensation was exquisitely delicate after the ravaging ecstasy of climax. For a rather long time Batman kept running his hands across Superman's shoulders as the other team members paid them no attention. "There," Batman murmured, his hands resting steady and sure. "There. Isn't that better?"
"Oh, yes," Clark breathed fervently. "Thank you."
Batman's hands closed on his shoulders abruptly, so sharply it would hurt a human, but Bruce's voice was calm and level as he said, "Any time."
Then Batman turned and left the room, leaving Superman ridiculously relaxed and happy--
And already wanting more.
: : :
Bruce was working in the Batcave about a week later when Superman suddenly arrived unannounced. "Hi," the Man of Steel said awkwardly.
Bruce pulled off the cowl and Superman's eyes flickered. "Superman. To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"
Superman drifted closer. "Well. I've been having a rough week, kind of stressful, and I was wondering if...if I could get another backrub from you."
His eyes were shy and hopeful, and Bruce felt the yearning lust that had never been far from him since the first time leap up and seize him. He should tell Clark he knew what was really going on, he knew he should. But then he'd have to explain why he hadn't said anything, and Clark would leave, and...Bruce would never hear the tiny, smothered gasp that meant he had pushed Clark over the edge again.
He needed to hear it at least once more.
So he nodded seriously, as if Superman were requesting Batman check some clues for him. "Why don't you lay down this time," he suggested, indicating the medical cots in a corner. "Better for positioning."
Clark glanced down and seemed to be fighting against a blush. "All right."
As he started to settle onto the cot, Bruce added, "Since it's just the two of us now, you can take your shirt off too." When Clark hesitated, he pointed out, "Of course, a massage is more effective when it's skin on skin." He was working off one of the leather gloves as he said it, and Clark's eyes watched hungrily as bare skin was exposed bit by bit. Then Clark's shirt was off in a sudden whisper of motion, and the half-naked Kryptonian was laying down on the cot.
Bruce stood beside the cot, looking down at the broad, almost glowing expanse of skin. He would never have noticed it if he hadn't known what he was looking for--a tiny silvery patch of skin directly between the shoulder blades. He resisted the temptation to lay his bare hands directly on it immediately and instead started working on the tense shoulders, feeling the warm skin beneath his hands shift deliciously.
This time when he finally made contact with the silvery patch, skin on hot skin, Clark inhaled sharply, his whole body twitching, and Bruce's entire body flushed with response, desire clutching at him. It was an irresistible thrill to make Clark feel this way, a jolt to his entire system every time the Kryptonian reacted; he had been almost afraid he'd climax with the sheer pleasure of it last time. Now, with just the two of them alone, he couldn't bring himself to tease Clark for long and soon was lost in the rhythm of long, even strokes down the shoulders and across the right place, over and over again, Clark's breathing going ragged and hoarse. Clark started to moan each time Bruce's hands passed over the right spot; at first he made an effort to mask them as merely appreciative, but soon they grew almost sobbingly luxurious and hedonistic, edging Bruce's nerves with fire every time.
Bruce shifted his position a little to change the angle of his hands, and Clark muttered, "You can get on the cot with me if that helps."
"I could--" Bruce started to put one knee on the cot beside Clark's body, hesitantly.
"--You can straddle me. It's okay," Clark said, his voice deep and heavy with arousal. "I don't mind."
Bruce slung his other leg over Clark's body, his hips settling across Clark's lower back, praying his straining arousal wasn't too obvious to the other man. But Clark seemed to be so lost in sensation that he hardly noticed. "Is that all right?" Bruce asked, pressing both thumbs gently into the right place.
Clark groaned and his hips flexed; Bruce could feel his ass tightening under him. "Perfect," Clark said huskily.
Bruce shifted forward, trying not to rub himself up against the Kryptonian too obviously, and fell back into the rhythm of the massage again.
The thought crossed his mind with irresistible force: what would it be like to do this while buried inside the other man? He felt a wave of dizziness go over him and had to grit his teeth against climaxing right then.
"This is so good. You're so good," Clark said breathlessly, as if the words were being dragged out of him. "I wanted to tell you before. How good this is. Couldn't. Too many people."
"Well," said Bruce as casually as possible, struggling to keep his voice level, "We're all alone now--" Clark groaned again and Bruce had to stop and catch his breath, "--so you can tell me now. There's no one else to hear." Clark said nothing, his breathing rapid and shallow, and Bruce murmured, "It's okay?"
"Okay?" The word seemed wrung from Clark. "You have...no idea..." His hips twitched again as Bruce passed along the silvery patch, thrusting into the cot involuntarily. "...how you make me feel... So crazy, you're driving me crazy, can't get enough, it's all I can think of, your hands on me--" The words were tumbling out faster and faster and Bruce found the tempo of his strokes picking up with it, helplessly. "Better than anything, making me feel so good, ah--" A particularly hard stroke left him shaking and gasping for a moment, "--Oh God, Rao, Bruce, don't stop, never--"
"--Never," Bruce heard himself agreeing without meaning to say anything, and then he did something he almost never did: he acted without thinking.
He leaned over to run his tongue across the silvery spot on Kal's back.
Things happened very quickly after that.
: : :
Bruce stirred in Clark's grasp and the Kryptonian murmured something and nuzzled his hair. The cot was little but bent and broken fragments under them but they were managing to find a relatively comfortable spot among the wreckage.
"You bastard," Clark muttered drowsily. "How would you like it if I fondled your private parts in public until you had earth-shattering orgasms?"
"I'd hate it," Bruce said acerbically. "So...no doing it in public, okay?"
Clark's eyes opened slowly, sated azure sparking with some other emotion. "I get to do it in private?"
Bruce sighed as gloomily as he was capable while feeling this replete and content. "Is it at all possible you might happen to forget all the ridiculous nonsense I just spent the last hour spouting?"
A flicker of a smug smile. "Not a chance."
Bruce shifted in Clark's arms, getting more comfortable. "Then I suppose I am doomed. Woe is me." He suspected the gloomy routine wasn't working at all, to judge from the look in Clark's eyes.
"Woe is you," Clark agreed softly, smiling and pulling him close.
Characters/Pairings: Superman/Batman
Rating: R
Summary: Batman finds out about a possible weakness in the Man of Steel's defenses and investigates, with interesting results.
Word count: 3300
Continuity: Toonverse
Notes: For
paxwolf's birthday! What better to write for a person who writes some of the best lyrical, delicate pre-slash in the fandom than 3,300 words of smuttiness? >_< The basic idea taken from
trascendenza's musings about possible unexpected Kryptonian erogenous zones...
Superman was a warm man, an affectionate man.
But he had never been what you would call a hugger.
With one exception--one which Batman tried not to remember too often--Batman had never seen him hug his teammates. Or even the people he saved. Hugs from other people he politely disentangled himself from as quickly as possible.
Superman also hated back-slapping, Batman realized. Both Superman and Clark winced away from hearty back slaps like the kind delivered by the Flash or Steve Lombard.
Usually this would merely be an interesting observation. But as Batman sat in the cave reviewing tapes of the latest fight, he noticed something for the first time: subtly, almost imperceptibly, Superman avoided having villains hit his back. It was often unavoidable, of course, but when possible in the most recent fight with Mongul Superman shielded his back even when it opened him up elsewhere.
Frowning, Batman reviewed other tapes. There it was again, a tiny vulnerability: a tendency to guard his back just a bit too carefully. Was there a Kryptonian Achilles' heel there that Batman had never been told about?
Still scowling, Batman pulled up the reams of Kryptonian medical files Clark had shared with him. If there was something about that area of the body that made Superman vulnerable, Batman should know about it.
His search was fruitless for hours. It wasn't that the information was locked or coded, just that it was mentioned rarely, obliquely, in extremely euphemistic language. Eventually, however, Batman had pieced together enough to understand.
The mekhzh. It was a small spot on the back of each male Kryptonian between the shoulder blades, about the size of a dime, almost imperceptible externally.
It was apparently a subsidiary sexual organ.
Bruce's eyebrows rose as he read on. The mekhzh, like the penis or breasts, was very sensitive, and being hit directly there would be incredibly painful. But when stroked or massaged it caused intense sexual pleasure in the male Kryptonian. "Stroking the mekhzh involves arousal of the entire sexual system, linked to the brain in ways far more deep and sensual than mere penile stimulation," explained the extremely dry biology text Bruce found. "The climax experienced from mekhzh stimulation involves no issue--" the manual used an archaic word that seemed to mean "ejaculation," "--but is approximately one hundred times more intense than orgasm from intercourse."
Bruce stared. One hundred times--!
This seemed a potentially serious security issue.
This bore further investigation.
: : :
Superman was poring over interstellar maps with the Flash, Green Lantern, and Hawkgirl as Batman came into the room. He watched them as they quarreled over some measurements, watched how Superman's shoulders tensed. When Flash announced that he was taking a break to clear his head and he and John started to throw a green glowing football around the main hall, Superman sank into a chair, sighing. Batman came up behind him.
"You seem tense."
"Rough day, I guess." Superman sighed and stretched his shoulders, stopping when Batman's hands came to rest on them.
"I'll give you a backrub," Batman suggested.
Superman laughed slightly. "No offense, Batman, I'm sure your hands are strong and all, but they're not going to have much effect. Hawkgirl's mace might do better." Hawkgirl looked up from the maps and smiled briefly.
"A backrub can be relaxing anyway," Batman said, kneading at the shoulders gently.
Another snort. "Since when do you take such an acute interest in my state of relaxation, Batman?"
"It's important that each member of the team be rested and relaxed, of course," Batman said blandly, his hands sure and certain on Superman's shoulders. "Let me get the cape out of the way," he added, flipping it up and over Superman's back so it fell across the Kryptonian's lap. Then he went back to rubbing, letting his hands drift very slightly lower.
Superman twitched at even that very slight downward motion. "Uh, the tension's pretty much all in my shoulders, Batman. My back's fine."
"They're all connected, you know. The tension in your back affects the stress in your shoulders." As he said that, Batman let one thumb trail lightly over the spot where the key patch of skin should be.
The effect on Superman was immediate: he stiffened in his chair, head falling back slightly. "Uh," he said softly.
Batman moved his hands back up to the shoulders, keeping them firm and confident. "Just like a team, Superman. One part of the system affects all the others."
"You--sound like J'onn." The teasing tone in Superman's voice hid a barely-perceptible tremor.
Bruce slid his thumbs downward again, but this time worked around the spot, not touching it. He heard a soft hiss of breath from Superman. Was the Kryptonian hoping he wouldn't brush that spot again?
Or was he hoping he would?
Flash and Lantern streaked by, throwing the football like a blur between them. Batman rested his hands lightly on Superman's shoulders, giving him an opportunity to stand up, to declare the backrub over.
The Kryptonian didn't move.
"The Martian has a different way of looking at things, but not necessarily invalid," Batman noted blandly, starting to knead those strong shoulders again. This time when his hands drifted downward he let one of his thumbs pass over the spot with agonizing slowness, and Superman moaned.
Hawkgirl looked up from her paperwork in surprise and Superman said "He's very good, actually. You wouldn't think someone that cranky would give such a good backrub." The casualness of his tone was strained, but she merely grinned and went back to her papers.
Batman started to include the key location in each of his stroking passes of the Kryptonian's back and shoulders, his thumbs stroking across it languidly. "Is that okay?" he asked.
Superman's voice was tight and too high. "That's--good. Very good."
"I can stop if it isn't having any effect."
"It's--" Superman stopped to catch his breath as black-clad thumbs touched him again, "--it's having an effect. You don't--have to stop."
Batman looked into the dark, reflective windows across the way. He could see Superman's face in them, the eyes half-closed, the mouth lax and sensual. Superman's head was thrown very slightly back. Batman caressed his back again and Superman's face tightened. "Oh," he said, his voice tense. "Don't stop."
"Relax, Clark," Batman murmured in his ear, and Superman jerked at the sound. "You can relax, just a little." Both thumbs there now, pushing, coaxing, gentle and demanding. "It's just a backrub. Relax."
Superman took a hoarse breath and went rigid beneath Batman's hands. "Rao," he choked, shuddering. His hands clenched on the arms of the chair and they crumpled like paper. He took another deep breath and his face cleared with an obvious effort. He looked down at the crushed arms and then up at Batman with chagrin. "I'm sorry," he muttered, "I'm not very good at...receiving backrubs."
"On the contrary," Batman said smoothly, "I think you're very good. Are you more relaxed now?" he asked casually.
"I--" Superman stretched his arms gingerly. "Yes. I feel--much better, actually." Even his voice sounded less strained. He smiled guilelessly at Batman. "Thank you."
Batman bowed slightly as Superman called the other members back to work. "It was my pleasure," he murmured.
He went back to his quarters slowly, his mind filled with the image of Superman's face rigid with climax in the starry window, the sound of Superman's voice telling him not to stop. He had to stop and lean against a wall briefly, dizzy with the feel of Clark's steel shoulders clenching under his hands. An experiment. A test of potential team vulnerabilities.
The only chance Bruce might ever have to bring Clark that kind of pleasure.
He felt heat and desire in him, a desire that he had always been so careful not to see, and knew this experiment had been an unwise tactical move.
: : :
Superman was on monitor duty, keeping an eye on the banks of screens. Hawkgirl and Wonder Woman were doing some cautious sparring in the middle of the hall, the Flash watching appreciatively. Diana went flying against a window and Superman winced. "Watch it, would you?" he snapped without thinking.
Wonder Woman rolled her eyes at Hawkgirl. "Cranky Kryptonian," she noted.
Wally laughed. "He needs another of your magic backrubs, Batman."
Superman jumped a little. He hadn't noticed Batman entering the room.
"Magic backrubs?" Wonder Woman sounded amused.
"Yeah, the Bat gave him a backrub during that big strategy session last week and he was a sweetheart after."
"Oh yeah, that," Superman said casually. "I suppose it helped." As if he hadn't thought about that backrub--and its unintended side effects--almost constantly since then. He hoped he wasn't blushing.
Batman drifted closer to the chair in which Superman was sitting. "I could give you another, if you like."
Superman swallowed. He shouldn't take advantage of his friend this way. If Batman knew he was experiencing carnal bliss from his backrubs...
"Sure. That would be nice."
Nice. Superman felt a stab of annoyance at himself mixed with frank desire as Batman's dark hands came to rest on his shoulders again. He'd never had an orgasm from having his mekhzh stimulated before--the angle made it pretty much impossible to do yourself--and now he wasn't sure how he had ever lived without it. Just feeling the leather gloves caressing his shoulders, nowhere near the right spot, filled him with cramping desire, aching hunger. He sighed and Batman murmured, "Relax."
"Sorry. It feels good," Superman said. It did feel good, having those sure hands warm on his shoulders, touching him gently. It just didn't feel as good as--Batman's hands shifted slightly lower and Superman tensed himself for the rush of sensation, but they retreated, leaving him frustrated and desperate. "You can--" he shrugged his shoulders slightly, encouraging the hands to go lower, feeling guilty. "You know, last week, how you massaged the whole back?"
"That was good?" The hands drifted down, strong thumbs working at his tense muscles, closer. Closer.
"Yes. That was good." Superman found himself unable to say anything more elaborate as anticipation gripped him.
Batman's hands finally brushed the right spot, and sparks and flares of passion went off behind Clark's eyes, electricity spasming through his body. From just one touch. "Good," he grunted.
Batman set up a rhythm like the last time, his fingers strong and agile, stroking, every touch spiraling Clark higher into rapture. Wonder Woman and Hawkgirl started sparring again and Clark stared at them sightlessly, trying to keep his breath slow and even. He found himself gripped by a mad desire to tell Bruce how good this felt, to babble desperately about how much he'd been wanting this. Was that an effect of the stimulation, or of Bruce's presence? "You've got--good hands," he said as a compromise, trying not to pant.
"Thank you," Batman said smoothly as his fingers sent shattering pleasure through Clark's body. Another pass and Clark realized that he was on the brink, one more touch and he'd climax again, and he braced himself to not show his reaction too obviously, braced himself against the warmth and light that would lift him beyond himself, transport him entirely.
And kept waiting. Batman's hands stayed on his shoulders, leaving him suspended on the edge, the orgasm hovering a whisper close. It was nearly unendurable, and Clark felt words welling up in him again, demands and pleas and confessions...
The Flash was looking at him, saying something, and Superman couldn't answer him because if he opened his mouth for any reason at all he'd start begging Batman to touch him in the right place again, to grant him release. So he clamped his mouth shut and was relieved to hear Batman answer for him, explaining which mission J'onn was currently on.
In the middle of Batman's explanation, his hands finally happened to stray across the right place again, a single hard stroke that toppled Clark helplessly over the edge and into white-hot climax. He gritted his teeth against moans and cries and kept his face bland with a truly Herculean effort, feeling every muscle in his body relaxing into sated pleasure, his shoulders slumping. Batman's hands were warm and gentle now, caressing him lightly, and the sensation was exquisitely delicate after the ravaging ecstasy of climax. For a rather long time Batman kept running his hands across Superman's shoulders as the other team members paid them no attention. "There," Batman murmured, his hands resting steady and sure. "There. Isn't that better?"
"Oh, yes," Clark breathed fervently. "Thank you."
Batman's hands closed on his shoulders abruptly, so sharply it would hurt a human, but Bruce's voice was calm and level as he said, "Any time."
Then Batman turned and left the room, leaving Superman ridiculously relaxed and happy--
And already wanting more.
: : :
Bruce was working in the Batcave about a week later when Superman suddenly arrived unannounced. "Hi," the Man of Steel said awkwardly.
Bruce pulled off the cowl and Superman's eyes flickered. "Superman. To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"
Superman drifted closer. "Well. I've been having a rough week, kind of stressful, and I was wondering if...if I could get another backrub from you."
His eyes were shy and hopeful, and Bruce felt the yearning lust that had never been far from him since the first time leap up and seize him. He should tell Clark he knew what was really going on, he knew he should. But then he'd have to explain why he hadn't said anything, and Clark would leave, and...Bruce would never hear the tiny, smothered gasp that meant he had pushed Clark over the edge again.
He needed to hear it at least once more.
So he nodded seriously, as if Superman were requesting Batman check some clues for him. "Why don't you lay down this time," he suggested, indicating the medical cots in a corner. "Better for positioning."
Clark glanced down and seemed to be fighting against a blush. "All right."
As he started to settle onto the cot, Bruce added, "Since it's just the two of us now, you can take your shirt off too." When Clark hesitated, he pointed out, "Of course, a massage is more effective when it's skin on skin." He was working off one of the leather gloves as he said it, and Clark's eyes watched hungrily as bare skin was exposed bit by bit. Then Clark's shirt was off in a sudden whisper of motion, and the half-naked Kryptonian was laying down on the cot.
Bruce stood beside the cot, looking down at the broad, almost glowing expanse of skin. He would never have noticed it if he hadn't known what he was looking for--a tiny silvery patch of skin directly between the shoulder blades. He resisted the temptation to lay his bare hands directly on it immediately and instead started working on the tense shoulders, feeling the warm skin beneath his hands shift deliciously.
This time when he finally made contact with the silvery patch, skin on hot skin, Clark inhaled sharply, his whole body twitching, and Bruce's entire body flushed with response, desire clutching at him. It was an irresistible thrill to make Clark feel this way, a jolt to his entire system every time the Kryptonian reacted; he had been almost afraid he'd climax with the sheer pleasure of it last time. Now, with just the two of them alone, he couldn't bring himself to tease Clark for long and soon was lost in the rhythm of long, even strokes down the shoulders and across the right place, over and over again, Clark's breathing going ragged and hoarse. Clark started to moan each time Bruce's hands passed over the right spot; at first he made an effort to mask them as merely appreciative, but soon they grew almost sobbingly luxurious and hedonistic, edging Bruce's nerves with fire every time.
Bruce shifted his position a little to change the angle of his hands, and Clark muttered, "You can get on the cot with me if that helps."
"I could--" Bruce started to put one knee on the cot beside Clark's body, hesitantly.
"--You can straddle me. It's okay," Clark said, his voice deep and heavy with arousal. "I don't mind."
Bruce slung his other leg over Clark's body, his hips settling across Clark's lower back, praying his straining arousal wasn't too obvious to the other man. But Clark seemed to be so lost in sensation that he hardly noticed. "Is that all right?" Bruce asked, pressing both thumbs gently into the right place.
Clark groaned and his hips flexed; Bruce could feel his ass tightening under him. "Perfect," Clark said huskily.
Bruce shifted forward, trying not to rub himself up against the Kryptonian too obviously, and fell back into the rhythm of the massage again.
The thought crossed his mind with irresistible force: what would it be like to do this while buried inside the other man? He felt a wave of dizziness go over him and had to grit his teeth against climaxing right then.
"This is so good. You're so good," Clark said breathlessly, as if the words were being dragged out of him. "I wanted to tell you before. How good this is. Couldn't. Too many people."
"Well," said Bruce as casually as possible, struggling to keep his voice level, "We're all alone now--" Clark groaned again and Bruce had to stop and catch his breath, "--so you can tell me now. There's no one else to hear." Clark said nothing, his breathing rapid and shallow, and Bruce murmured, "It's okay?"
"Okay?" The word seemed wrung from Clark. "You have...no idea..." His hips twitched again as Bruce passed along the silvery patch, thrusting into the cot involuntarily. "...how you make me feel... So crazy, you're driving me crazy, can't get enough, it's all I can think of, your hands on me--" The words were tumbling out faster and faster and Bruce found the tempo of his strokes picking up with it, helplessly. "Better than anything, making me feel so good, ah--" A particularly hard stroke left him shaking and gasping for a moment, "--Oh God, Rao, Bruce, don't stop, never--"
"--Never," Bruce heard himself agreeing without meaning to say anything, and then he did something he almost never did: he acted without thinking.
He leaned over to run his tongue across the silvery spot on Kal's back.
Things happened very quickly after that.
: : :
Bruce stirred in Clark's grasp and the Kryptonian murmured something and nuzzled his hair. The cot was little but bent and broken fragments under them but they were managing to find a relatively comfortable spot among the wreckage.
"You bastard," Clark muttered drowsily. "How would you like it if I fondled your private parts in public until you had earth-shattering orgasms?"
"I'd hate it," Bruce said acerbically. "So...no doing it in public, okay?"
Clark's eyes opened slowly, sated azure sparking with some other emotion. "I get to do it in private?"
Bruce sighed as gloomily as he was capable while feeling this replete and content. "Is it at all possible you might happen to forget all the ridiculous nonsense I just spent the last hour spouting?"
A flicker of a smug smile. "Not a chance."
Bruce shifted in Clark's arms, getting more comfortable. "Then I suppose I am doomed. Woe is me." He suspected the gloomy routine wasn't working at all, to judge from the look in Clark's eyes.
"Woe is you," Clark agreed softly, smiling and pulling him close.