Fic: Rainbow's Freedom (Shadow Of The Bat Arc) (12/35)
Title: Rainbow’s Freedom (Shadow Of The Bat Arc) (12/35)
Author: BradyGirl
Pairings/Characters: (this chapter): Clark/Bruce, Hal/Steve, Alfred, Ollie Queen, Lex Luthor
Series Notes: In the 23rd century, Earth is a technologically-advanced society that practices the ancient institution of slavery. The wealthy freeman Bruce Wayne acquires a highly-prized pleasure slave whom has fallen in love with him…but can the Prince of Gotham ever return that love? And will it all be moot as a weak abolitionist movement slowly gathers strength while the Galactic Empire remains in a perpetual state of Cold War? The entire series can be found here.
Categories: Drama, AU
Rating: (this chapter): PG-13
Warnings: None
Spoilers: None
Summary: Clark is tired but still wants to serve in every way.
Date Of Completion (First Draft): April 30, 2007
Date Of Posting: September 14, 2007
Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, DC does, more’s the pity.
Word Count: 1323
Feedback welcome and appreciated.
Gentle is my touch,
Because
I love you,
So much.
Emily Adams Cutler
“Yellow Roses And Other Poems”
1859 C.E.
XII
CARING
Clark served dinner, Hal and Steve back from the city. Everything went flawlessly until a wave of dizziness hit him and he set the Hal’s plate down heavily, a clunking noise slightly jarring the conversation. Bruce frowned and Clark flushed pink in embarrassment.
Once out of the dining room he leaned back against the wall of the corridor, closing his eyes. He was lucky his symptoms were relatively mild on this day before a shot.
Pushing away from the wall, he opened his eyes and headed for the kitchen.
“I have a new basket of rolls ready, Clark…” Alfred paused. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.” Clark smiled to cover his distress.
Alfred’s keen eyes were on him. “Perhaps you would like to get some fresh air.”
Clark hesitated, glancing outside, then said, “I’ll just go outside for a minute.”
Clark took deep lungfuls of air as he stood outside, wearing a coat. The crispness of autumn air excited him, wind blowing through his hair. He heard the waves crashing on the rocks below and watched as a pinpoint of light streaked across the sky among the stars. He wished that he could stay out longer but he needed to get back inside. Feeling a little better, he returned to the kitchen.
& & & & & &
“So, was the exhibit worth the price of admission?” Ollie asked.
“Definitely,” Hal said. “Some truly marvelous works of art.”
“The Amazon story is an interesting one.” Bruce buttered a wheat roll.
“Very. However, this show concentrated on history from 1863 onward.”
“Isn’t that when Paradise Island was conquered?”
“Yes,” Steve said.
“Hmm, seems a pity.”
“Very much.”
Ollie took a bite of salmon. “I suppose the Amazons should be grateful they didn’t get the same treatment as the Kryptonians.”
Lex snorted. “If General Stark had been there, they would have.”
“I think his ancestor was the lead conqueror.” Hal lifted his wineglass.
“Interesting tidbit of information there.”
“The Amazons were great Warriors,” Bruce said.
“I suspect they still are from what we saw today.” Hal looked at Steve, who nodded.
“Really? Why?”
“They aren’t completely cowed. There is a spark of defiance in them, even after almost 400 years of slavery.”
“And they’ve lived every one of those 400 years.”
Ollie shivered. It would be bad enough to be manacled, but to live that way for four centuries! And he knew that they were all used as sex slaves for cruise ships full of eager customers several times a year, not to count the special privileges granted military brass and soldiers given a special reward.
Clark returned with a new basket of warm rolls, removing the empty one. Pink cheeks gave him a fresh-faced look, and every man at the table noticed, though they kept their interest low-key.
Ollie watched as he poured fresh glasses of wine, detecting a slight tremble when Clark refilled his glass. The wine shimmered in the glass.
Probably nerves after that little faux pas.
“Tomorrow is our last meeting. I’d like to take you around the city the next evening for some of the Halloween Happenings.”
“Sounds good to me,” Hal said.
& & & & & &
Clark was tired. He had eaten his dinner and helped Alfred clean up. His small burst of energy after his quick outdoor trip was gone. He was looking forward to some sleep before Bruce came to him.
Bruce walked into the kitchen. His smile was predatory and he rested his hand between Clark’s legs in a proprietary gesture as he nuzzled Clark’s ear.
“I want you in the proper position when I come up in a few minutes.” Bruce gently nibbled Clark’s earlobe. “I need to prepare you for tonight.”
Clark felt a little thrill. He gasped slightly as Bruce gently stroked him, pleased that his Master was in such an amorous mood. He wished that he was feeling better, but his physical status was of little consequence.
‘A slave is never sick.’
Of course his trainer knew that was unrealistic. What was meant was that unless your illness was severe or noticeable, a slave didn’t trifle his Master with ailments or complaints.
Bruce gave him a little pat and removed his hand, his eyes glittering.
Clark actually felt a little better. He smiled and headed upstairs.
Up in the bedroom he began to disrobe after performing his evening ablutions. ‘Proper position’. He hadn’t been in that position for awhile now. Usually Bruce came to him when he had already been in bed for hours.
Clark smiled. Bruce wanted him in the traditional position. Well, that was easy enough to do.
A little pang went through him. He couldn’t have Bruce’s love, but he could have his undivided attention, at least after the Batman was done with him for the night.
Clark deposited his clothes in the hamper, then knelt by the bed after removing his glasses. He rested his hands on his thighs, manacles cold against his skin. He closed his eyes, taking deep breaths, trying to calm his excitement. He listened but heard no footsteps. He allowed himself a few more minutes, then slid his arms around his back, crossing his wrists. He bowed his head, spreading his legs wide.
Open.
Ready.
Waiting.
& & & & & &
Bruce’s hand cupped his chin. Clark hadn’t heard him come upstairs.
Must be the stealth of the Bat.
Nervous energy skittered along his limbs as Bruce lifted his head up. He remembered Dax Mantell’s words and rubbed his cheek against Bruce’s palm, Bruce remembering the words, too. He pressed Clark’s head forward and Clark rubbed his face between Bruce’s legs, inhaling his scent. Bruce’s fingers carded through his hair, then his head was pulled back.
“You’re a very wanton slut, aren’t you?”
Amusement curved Clark’s lips. “As long as I’m your wanton slut, Master, I am content.”
Bruce laughed. “Up on the bed, my naughty Starchild.”
Bruce helped Clark up, giving him a firm slap on the buttocks, then gently pushed his slave onto his back. Bruce took out the chains and stretched Clark’s arms, starting to lock the chains, then he paused. He touched a hand to Clark’s cheek.
“You’re tired.”
Clark nuzzled his hand. “I’ll be fine after I get some sleep, Master.”
Bruce left the chains unlocked. “I want you to be very comfortable and get some sleep. You’ll need it,” he winked.
Clark nodded, love welling up inside him. Bruce was usually so considerate! If only that consideration could be that of a lover instead of a Master.
A sharp pang of sadness hit him.
Bruce cocked his head. “Why so sad, my Starchild?” He touched the single tear that glittered on Clark’s cheek.
“I…I’m sorry, Master. Just…” Clark strained to kiss Bruce’s hand, and Bruce brought his fingers closer to his slave’s lips “…I wish to serve you with all (my heart) that I have.”
“You do,” Bruce said softly. “Here, curl up and relax.”
Bruce pulled the covers up over Clark, who had curled up and sighed as he got comfortable. Bruce ran his fingers through his slave’s hair, kissing Clark’s temple. “Sleep well,” he whispered.
Clark listened to him leave, then allowed the sounds of the house to drift over him: the murmur of voices, the sound of footsteps on the foyer’s polished parquet floor, a door closing down the hall. Wind rattled the windows, Clark praying that Bruce would be safe on his patrol.
He didn’t like admitting physical weakness. He was sensitive about his illness and how it could interfere with his duties. And he didn’t want to let Bruce down, either as slave or lover.
He let the peace wash over him, slowly drifting to sleep as he waited for the man he loved to come to him…
Author: BradyGirl
Pairings/Characters: (this chapter): Clark/Bruce, Hal/Steve, Alfred, Ollie Queen, Lex Luthor
Series Notes: In the 23rd century, Earth is a technologically-advanced society that practices the ancient institution of slavery. The wealthy freeman Bruce Wayne acquires a highly-prized pleasure slave whom has fallen in love with him…but can the Prince of Gotham ever return that love? And will it all be moot as a weak abolitionist movement slowly gathers strength while the Galactic Empire remains in a perpetual state of Cold War? The entire series can be found here.
Categories: Drama, AU
Rating: (this chapter): PG-13
Warnings: None
Spoilers: None
Summary: Clark is tired but still wants to serve in every way.
Date Of Completion (First Draft): April 30, 2007
Date Of Posting: September 14, 2007
Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, DC does, more’s the pity.
Word Count: 1323
Feedback welcome and appreciated.
Gentle is my touch,
Because
I love you,
So much.
Emily Adams Cutler
“Yellow Roses And Other Poems”
1859 C.E.
XII
CARING
Clark served dinner, Hal and Steve back from the city. Everything went flawlessly until a wave of dizziness hit him and he set the Hal’s plate down heavily, a clunking noise slightly jarring the conversation. Bruce frowned and Clark flushed pink in embarrassment.
Once out of the dining room he leaned back against the wall of the corridor, closing his eyes. He was lucky his symptoms were relatively mild on this day before a shot.
Pushing away from the wall, he opened his eyes and headed for the kitchen.
“I have a new basket of rolls ready, Clark…” Alfred paused. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.” Clark smiled to cover his distress.
Alfred’s keen eyes were on him. “Perhaps you would like to get some fresh air.”
Clark hesitated, glancing outside, then said, “I’ll just go outside for a minute.”
Clark took deep lungfuls of air as he stood outside, wearing a coat. The crispness of autumn air excited him, wind blowing through his hair. He heard the waves crashing on the rocks below and watched as a pinpoint of light streaked across the sky among the stars. He wished that he could stay out longer but he needed to get back inside. Feeling a little better, he returned to the kitchen.
& & & & & &
“So, was the exhibit worth the price of admission?” Ollie asked.
“Definitely,” Hal said. “Some truly marvelous works of art.”
“The Amazon story is an interesting one.” Bruce buttered a wheat roll.
“Very. However, this show concentrated on history from 1863 onward.”
“Isn’t that when Paradise Island was conquered?”
“Yes,” Steve said.
“Hmm, seems a pity.”
“Very much.”
Ollie took a bite of salmon. “I suppose the Amazons should be grateful they didn’t get the same treatment as the Kryptonians.”
Lex snorted. “If General Stark had been there, they would have.”
“I think his ancestor was the lead conqueror.” Hal lifted his wineglass.
“Interesting tidbit of information there.”
“The Amazons were great Warriors,” Bruce said.
“I suspect they still are from what we saw today.” Hal looked at Steve, who nodded.
“Really? Why?”
“They aren’t completely cowed. There is a spark of defiance in them, even after almost 400 years of slavery.”
“And they’ve lived every one of those 400 years.”
Ollie shivered. It would be bad enough to be manacled, but to live that way for four centuries! And he knew that they were all used as sex slaves for cruise ships full of eager customers several times a year, not to count the special privileges granted military brass and soldiers given a special reward.
Clark returned with a new basket of warm rolls, removing the empty one. Pink cheeks gave him a fresh-faced look, and every man at the table noticed, though they kept their interest low-key.
Ollie watched as he poured fresh glasses of wine, detecting a slight tremble when Clark refilled his glass. The wine shimmered in the glass.
Probably nerves after that little faux pas.
“Tomorrow is our last meeting. I’d like to take you around the city the next evening for some of the Halloween Happenings.”
“Sounds good to me,” Hal said.
& & & & & &
Clark was tired. He had eaten his dinner and helped Alfred clean up. His small burst of energy after his quick outdoor trip was gone. He was looking forward to some sleep before Bruce came to him.
Bruce walked into the kitchen. His smile was predatory and he rested his hand between Clark’s legs in a proprietary gesture as he nuzzled Clark’s ear.
“I want you in the proper position when I come up in a few minutes.” Bruce gently nibbled Clark’s earlobe. “I need to prepare you for tonight.”
Clark felt a little thrill. He gasped slightly as Bruce gently stroked him, pleased that his Master was in such an amorous mood. He wished that he was feeling better, but his physical status was of little consequence.
‘A slave is never sick.’
Of course his trainer knew that was unrealistic. What was meant was that unless your illness was severe or noticeable, a slave didn’t trifle his Master with ailments or complaints.
Bruce gave him a little pat and removed his hand, his eyes glittering.
Clark actually felt a little better. He smiled and headed upstairs.
Up in the bedroom he began to disrobe after performing his evening ablutions. ‘Proper position’. He hadn’t been in that position for awhile now. Usually Bruce came to him when he had already been in bed for hours.
Clark smiled. Bruce wanted him in the traditional position. Well, that was easy enough to do.
A little pang went through him. He couldn’t have Bruce’s love, but he could have his undivided attention, at least after the Batman was done with him for the night.
Clark deposited his clothes in the hamper, then knelt by the bed after removing his glasses. He rested his hands on his thighs, manacles cold against his skin. He closed his eyes, taking deep breaths, trying to calm his excitement. He listened but heard no footsteps. He allowed himself a few more minutes, then slid his arms around his back, crossing his wrists. He bowed his head, spreading his legs wide.
Open.
Ready.
Waiting.
& & & & & &
Bruce’s hand cupped his chin. Clark hadn’t heard him come upstairs.
Must be the stealth of the Bat.
Nervous energy skittered along his limbs as Bruce lifted his head up. He remembered Dax Mantell’s words and rubbed his cheek against Bruce’s palm, Bruce remembering the words, too. He pressed Clark’s head forward and Clark rubbed his face between Bruce’s legs, inhaling his scent. Bruce’s fingers carded through his hair, then his head was pulled back.
“You’re a very wanton slut, aren’t you?”
Amusement curved Clark’s lips. “As long as I’m your wanton slut, Master, I am content.”
Bruce laughed. “Up on the bed, my naughty Starchild.”
Bruce helped Clark up, giving him a firm slap on the buttocks, then gently pushed his slave onto his back. Bruce took out the chains and stretched Clark’s arms, starting to lock the chains, then he paused. He touched a hand to Clark’s cheek.
“You’re tired.”
Clark nuzzled his hand. “I’ll be fine after I get some sleep, Master.”
Bruce left the chains unlocked. “I want you to be very comfortable and get some sleep. You’ll need it,” he winked.
Clark nodded, love welling up inside him. Bruce was usually so considerate! If only that consideration could be that of a lover instead of a Master.
A sharp pang of sadness hit him.
Bruce cocked his head. “Why so sad, my Starchild?” He touched the single tear that glittered on Clark’s cheek.
“I…I’m sorry, Master. Just…” Clark strained to kiss Bruce’s hand, and Bruce brought his fingers closer to his slave’s lips “…I wish to serve you with all (my heart) that I have.”
“You do,” Bruce said softly. “Here, curl up and relax.”
Bruce pulled the covers up over Clark, who had curled up and sighed as he got comfortable. Bruce ran his fingers through his slave’s hair, kissing Clark’s temple. “Sleep well,” he whispered.
Clark listened to him leave, then allowed the sounds of the house to drift over him: the murmur of voices, the sound of footsteps on the foyer’s polished parquet floor, a door closing down the hall. Wind rattled the windows, Clark praying that Bruce would be safe on his patrol.
He didn’t like admitting physical weakness. He was sensitive about his illness and how it could interfere with his duties. And he didn’t want to let Bruce down, either as slave or lover.
He let the peace wash over him, slowly drifting to sleep as he waited for the man he loved to come to him…