Rainbow’s Freedom (The Dark Knight Of The Soul Arc) (2/38)
Title: Rainbow’s Freedom (The Dark Knight Of The Soul Arc) (2/38)
Author: BradyGirl_12
Pairings/Characters: (this chapter): Alfred, Clark/Bruce, Dick
Series Notes: In the 23rd century, Earth is a technologically-advanced society that practices the ancient institution of slavery. A Great Trial crashes down upon the House Of Wayne. Can Bruce and Clark’s relationship survive? Will the Family’s strength be enough to see them through this time of Fear and Darkness? The entire series can be found here.
Genres: AU, Drama, Slavefic
Rating: (this chapter): NC-17
Warnings: None
Spoilers: None
Summary: Snowbound makes for all kinds of cozy. ;)
Date Of Completion (First Draft): September 17, 2008
Date Of Posting: August 24, 2009
Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, DC does, more’s the pity.
Word Count: 1429
Feedback welcome and appreciated.
II
EVE OF THANKSGIVING
"There’s nothing cozier than baking pies in the kitchen on a snowy day."
Julia Childress,
Gourmet Chef
1962 C.E.
The smell of baking apple, pumpkin, lemon, and chocolate cream pies permeated the Manor. Alfred was in his element, supervising Clark and Dick as they helped him with the pies. He went down to the root cellar and came back up with jars of cherries, smiling at Dick’s excited bounce. Cherry pie!
It was this domestic scene that Bruce came upon as he arrived home from work early. The city was emptying out as people were traveling home on the day before Thanksgiving. Brendan was doing last-minute packing and taking a taxi to the train station.
“Feels like snow,” Bruce said, grinning at the flour on Clark’s nose and in Dick’s hair.
“Ah, Master Bruce. Care to lend a hand?” Alfred asked.
“Oh, I’m sure you’re doing fine.”
“C’mon, Bruce! We already gave the pies to the shelters. Now we’re makin’ our own.” Dick held a rosy apple and a peeler.
“I’ll be back in a few minutes. Let me put my briefcase away.”
Bruce went out to the foyer and picked his briefcase up off the side table in the hall, heading for the study. Laughter echoed out from the kitchen.
He smiled as he sorted his papers, then he walked to the library. He stood before the portrait of his parents, looking at the happy little boy within the circle of their love.
He felt the old familiar pang, of loss, of grief. He thought of childhood Thanksgivings, the house full of laughter and love.
Childish laughter burst out from the kitchen and he smiled.
“You’d be so proud of them, Mom, Dad,” he whispered. “They’re utterly loyal to me, and I’m loved.”
Sometimes he couldn’t quite believe it, but it was true. He had a family, each one very special to him.
He headed toward the kitchen.
& & & & & &
The kitchen smelled of cinnamon and spices and was warm and cheerful as the pie-making continued.
All the ingredients for tomorrow’s feast were ready and waiting to be chopped, sliced, and peeled in the morning. Alfred had already made the stuffing, and the turkey would go in the oven later and cook all night, an old-fashioned method that Alfred insisted upon. No one complained, considering the results.
“It’s getting dark. Better put a light on,” Bruce said. He glanced out the window. “Wow, it’s really snowing out there!”
Fat, white flakes were falling rapidly, darkness already settling over the estate. Bruce was glad he’d come home early. This storm would play havoc with travelers. He hoped that Brendan reached Boston safely.
He turned on the light over the sink, the soft yellow glow giving everything a cozy atmosphere. Bruce crimped the crust of the apple pie he was working on.
“You dust your crusts with cinnamon just like Mom used to,” Clark said to Alfred with a smile.
“Yes, well…”
Suddenly everyone, including Clark, realized what he had just said.
“Are you remembering your mother, Clark?” Dick asked, eyes wide.
“I…” Clark frowned. “No, but…” His expression lightened. “But saying that means I knew my mother, right?”
“It would indicate so,” said Alfred with a smile.
“It’s this kitchen.” Clark waved his hand. “The smells, the coziness…it’s like it’s a part of me.”
“You may remember her more in time,” Bruce said.
Clark looked excited at the prospect.
& & & & & &
Bruce helped with clean-up, the final batch of pies in the oven. He washed his hands and went upstairs, going to the window and watching the heavy snowfall.
The ocean roiled as restlessly as he felt. The weather forecasters promised a major storm. There would definitely be no patrol tonight.
Clark had a family out there somewhere, a mother, perhaps a father, maybe siblings? Somewhere close by or far away?
Bruce wished that he could help Clark find that family, but his records were murky. He worried that Clark had been stolen and placed in the hands of the slavers, but Silas Bracken was a reputable slave dealer.
Bruce felt a deep chasm open up within him. What if Clark was legally stolen goods and had to be returned to his rightful owner?
What if Clark wanted to leave?
Silly thoughts. Clark loves you.
But if he had a choice?
Bruce shivered at his little voice’s jab.
“Bruce, I…”
Clark entered the room, looking absolutely gorgeous, blue eyes sparkling.
Suddenly Bruce crossed the room, pulling Clark into a tight hug. He trembled slightly as he whispered, “Don’t ever leave me, Clark.”
& & & & & &
Clark had brains as well as beauty. He wisely refrained from pointing out that it wasn’t in his power to go or stay, but he understood what Bruce was asking.
“I’ll never leave you, Bruce,” he whispered back.
Bruce nearly sobbed as Clark caressed his hair. Blindly Bruce sought out his mouth and they kissed, their tenderness growing to ardor as they removed each other’s sweaters, stumbling to the bed and falling onto black silk sheets.
Clark purred as Bruce rained kisses on his throat and chest, his own hands stroking his lover’s stomach. Bruce still held an edge of desperation, his grip on his Beloved’s thigh a little too tight.
Clark brushed the hair out of Bruce’s eyes, murmuring, “I’m not going anywhere, love.”
Bruce kissed him again, and they both fumbled with zippers, pulling off pants and underwear and socks, their shoes tumbling to the floor.
Bruce tasted every inch of Clark’s beautiful skin, Clark stroking his thighs and hips, reassuring his lover.
“I love you, Bruce.”
“Mmm, my Starchild.”
Bruce teased Clark’s nipples, his slave shivering with pleasure. He smiled as he felt Bruce’s cock nudging his thigh. His hand slipped between Bruce’s legs.
“Oh!” Bruce closed his eyes, muscles rippling as he reveled in pleasure. He squirmed as Clark worked his magic, his cock growing in his lover’s hand.
Clark pulled his hand away and Bruce opened his eyes. A question went out and he rested a hand on his hip, his cock bobbing. Clark ran his tongue over his lips and Bruce smiled, positioning himself so that his cock hovered over Clark’s lush mouth.
Clark opened his mouth and his tongue flicked out, licking the underside of the hard column of flesh, Bruce shuddering. He inched forward on his knees, Clark smiling as he swirled his tongue around the head, lust glowing from Bruce’s blue eyes like a star sapphire.
Bruce gently eased into his lover’s mouth, gasping as satiny hot wetness enclosed him.
Clark vigorously applied all the skills he knew. He always loved taking Bruce into his mouth. Any time remnants of the memories in the slavers’ camp lingered, making love to Bruce this way dispelled them. Bruce’s cock didn’t make him cringe or disassociate himself from reality.
Instead, he savored the taste and texture of Bruce, even the musky scent of arousal. Every grunt and groan was music to his ears as his fingers pressed into a muscled thigh, a sheen of sweat coating his skin.
Bruce gasped as Clark disengaged, growling as he looked down.
Clark unashamedly used some of the art of the pleasure slave, lowering his lashes seductively and suddenly parting his legs, the very picture of wantonness.
He gestured to the headboard and Bruce chained him to it.
Bruce’s growl was different this time. He swiftly coated his cock with lubricant, rimming Clark’s anus with a dripping finger, bent his legs back and rammed home.
Pleasure blossomed in Clark, his nerves tingling with sensation as Bruce eagerly pushed in and out, his face a picture of ecstasy.
Clark was anchored by the chains as Bruce rode him hard, Clark’s moans tearing from his lips. He cried out as his prostate was touched again and again, pleasure nearly overwhelming him. The chains rattled as he writhed, lifting his hips up.
“My…Starchild…mine…!”
Clark screamed as the final thrust sent him over the edge, his cum spattering Bruce’s belly as his lover spurted hard and hot deep inside him, coating his insides with fire.
Bruce collapsed beside him after pulling out, their gasps filling the air.
The snow was falling faster outside the window.
Bruce unchained his lover and tugged the sheets up over their bodies and they drifted off to sleep, the soft chime of the front doorbell ringing downstairs.
Clark wondered who would be out in this storm as he fell asleep in the warmth of Bruce’s arms.
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Author: BradyGirl_12
Pairings/Characters: (this chapter): Alfred, Clark/Bruce, Dick
Series Notes: In the 23rd century, Earth is a technologically-advanced society that practices the ancient institution of slavery. A Great Trial crashes down upon the House Of Wayne. Can Bruce and Clark’s relationship survive? Will the Family’s strength be enough to see them through this time of Fear and Darkness? The entire series can be found here.
Genres: AU, Drama, Slavefic
Rating: (this chapter): NC-17
Warnings: None
Spoilers: None
Summary: Snowbound makes for all kinds of cozy. ;)
Date Of Completion (First Draft): September 17, 2008
Date Of Posting: August 24, 2009
Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, DC does, more’s the pity.
Word Count: 1429
Feedback welcome and appreciated.
II
EVE OF THANKSGIVING
"There’s nothing cozier than baking pies in the kitchen on a snowy day."
Julia Childress,
Gourmet Chef
1962 C.E.
The smell of baking apple, pumpkin, lemon, and chocolate cream pies permeated the Manor. Alfred was in his element, supervising Clark and Dick as they helped him with the pies. He went down to the root cellar and came back up with jars of cherries, smiling at Dick’s excited bounce. Cherry pie!
It was this domestic scene that Bruce came upon as he arrived home from work early. The city was emptying out as people were traveling home on the day before Thanksgiving. Brendan was doing last-minute packing and taking a taxi to the train station.
“Feels like snow,” Bruce said, grinning at the flour on Clark’s nose and in Dick’s hair.
“Ah, Master Bruce. Care to lend a hand?” Alfred asked.
“Oh, I’m sure you’re doing fine.”
“C’mon, Bruce! We already gave the pies to the shelters. Now we’re makin’ our own.” Dick held a rosy apple and a peeler.
“I’ll be back in a few minutes. Let me put my briefcase away.”
Bruce went out to the foyer and picked his briefcase up off the side table in the hall, heading for the study. Laughter echoed out from the kitchen.
He smiled as he sorted his papers, then he walked to the library. He stood before the portrait of his parents, looking at the happy little boy within the circle of their love.
He felt the old familiar pang, of loss, of grief. He thought of childhood Thanksgivings, the house full of laughter and love.
Childish laughter burst out from the kitchen and he smiled.
“You’d be so proud of them, Mom, Dad,” he whispered. “They’re utterly loyal to me, and I’m loved.”
Sometimes he couldn’t quite believe it, but it was true. He had a family, each one very special to him.
He headed toward the kitchen.
& & & & & &
The kitchen smelled of cinnamon and spices and was warm and cheerful as the pie-making continued.
All the ingredients for tomorrow’s feast were ready and waiting to be chopped, sliced, and peeled in the morning. Alfred had already made the stuffing, and the turkey would go in the oven later and cook all night, an old-fashioned method that Alfred insisted upon. No one complained, considering the results.
“It’s getting dark. Better put a light on,” Bruce said. He glanced out the window. “Wow, it’s really snowing out there!”
Fat, white flakes were falling rapidly, darkness already settling over the estate. Bruce was glad he’d come home early. This storm would play havoc with travelers. He hoped that Brendan reached Boston safely.
He turned on the light over the sink, the soft yellow glow giving everything a cozy atmosphere. Bruce crimped the crust of the apple pie he was working on.
“You dust your crusts with cinnamon just like Mom used to,” Clark said to Alfred with a smile.
“Yes, well…”
Suddenly everyone, including Clark, realized what he had just said.
“Are you remembering your mother, Clark?” Dick asked, eyes wide.
“I…” Clark frowned. “No, but…” His expression lightened. “But saying that means I knew my mother, right?”
“It would indicate so,” said Alfred with a smile.
“It’s this kitchen.” Clark waved his hand. “The smells, the coziness…it’s like it’s a part of me.”
“You may remember her more in time,” Bruce said.
Clark looked excited at the prospect.
& & & & & &
Bruce helped with clean-up, the final batch of pies in the oven. He washed his hands and went upstairs, going to the window and watching the heavy snowfall.
The ocean roiled as restlessly as he felt. The weather forecasters promised a major storm. There would definitely be no patrol tonight.
Clark had a family out there somewhere, a mother, perhaps a father, maybe siblings? Somewhere close by or far away?
Bruce wished that he could help Clark find that family, but his records were murky. He worried that Clark had been stolen and placed in the hands of the slavers, but Silas Bracken was a reputable slave dealer.
Bruce felt a deep chasm open up within him. What if Clark was legally stolen goods and had to be returned to his rightful owner?
What if Clark wanted to leave?
Silly thoughts. Clark loves you.
But if he had a choice?
Bruce shivered at his little voice’s jab.
“Bruce, I…”
Clark entered the room, looking absolutely gorgeous, blue eyes sparkling.
Suddenly Bruce crossed the room, pulling Clark into a tight hug. He trembled slightly as he whispered, “Don’t ever leave me, Clark.”
& & & & & &
Clark had brains as well as beauty. He wisely refrained from pointing out that it wasn’t in his power to go or stay, but he understood what Bruce was asking.
“I’ll never leave you, Bruce,” he whispered back.
Bruce nearly sobbed as Clark caressed his hair. Blindly Bruce sought out his mouth and they kissed, their tenderness growing to ardor as they removed each other’s sweaters, stumbling to the bed and falling onto black silk sheets.
Clark purred as Bruce rained kisses on his throat and chest, his own hands stroking his lover’s stomach. Bruce still held an edge of desperation, his grip on his Beloved’s thigh a little too tight.
Clark brushed the hair out of Bruce’s eyes, murmuring, “I’m not going anywhere, love.”
Bruce kissed him again, and they both fumbled with zippers, pulling off pants and underwear and socks, their shoes tumbling to the floor.
Bruce tasted every inch of Clark’s beautiful skin, Clark stroking his thighs and hips, reassuring his lover.
“I love you, Bruce.”
“Mmm, my Starchild.”
Bruce teased Clark’s nipples, his slave shivering with pleasure. He smiled as he felt Bruce’s cock nudging his thigh. His hand slipped between Bruce’s legs.
“Oh!” Bruce closed his eyes, muscles rippling as he reveled in pleasure. He squirmed as Clark worked his magic, his cock growing in his lover’s hand.
Clark pulled his hand away and Bruce opened his eyes. A question went out and he rested a hand on his hip, his cock bobbing. Clark ran his tongue over his lips and Bruce smiled, positioning himself so that his cock hovered over Clark’s lush mouth.
Clark opened his mouth and his tongue flicked out, licking the underside of the hard column of flesh, Bruce shuddering. He inched forward on his knees, Clark smiling as he swirled his tongue around the head, lust glowing from Bruce’s blue eyes like a star sapphire.
Bruce gently eased into his lover’s mouth, gasping as satiny hot wetness enclosed him.
Clark vigorously applied all the skills he knew. He always loved taking Bruce into his mouth. Any time remnants of the memories in the slavers’ camp lingered, making love to Bruce this way dispelled them. Bruce’s cock didn’t make him cringe or disassociate himself from reality.
Instead, he savored the taste and texture of Bruce, even the musky scent of arousal. Every grunt and groan was music to his ears as his fingers pressed into a muscled thigh, a sheen of sweat coating his skin.
Bruce gasped as Clark disengaged, growling as he looked down.
Clark unashamedly used some of the art of the pleasure slave, lowering his lashes seductively and suddenly parting his legs, the very picture of wantonness.
He gestured to the headboard and Bruce chained him to it.
Bruce’s growl was different this time. He swiftly coated his cock with lubricant, rimming Clark’s anus with a dripping finger, bent his legs back and rammed home.
Pleasure blossomed in Clark, his nerves tingling with sensation as Bruce eagerly pushed in and out, his face a picture of ecstasy.
Clark was anchored by the chains as Bruce rode him hard, Clark’s moans tearing from his lips. He cried out as his prostate was touched again and again, pleasure nearly overwhelming him. The chains rattled as he writhed, lifting his hips up.
“My…Starchild…mine…!”
Clark screamed as the final thrust sent him over the edge, his cum spattering Bruce’s belly as his lover spurted hard and hot deep inside him, coating his insides with fire.
Bruce collapsed beside him after pulling out, their gasps filling the air.
The snow was falling faster outside the window.
Bruce unchained his lover and tugged the sheets up over their bodies and they drifted off to sleep, the soft chime of the front doorbell ringing downstairs.
Clark wondered who would be out in this storm as he fell asleep in the warmth of Bruce’s arms.
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