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Title: Twisted and Torn
Author: Aravis Tarkheena
Pairing: Bruce Wayne (Batman I)/Clark Kent (Superman I)
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Angst, slash, sex, rimming
Disclaimer: Not mine, everyone's legal
Word Count: 4,000ish
Author's Notes: For batfan_sarah. Hope this is what you wanted. Thanks so much to SuperTina for an awesome beta. :D




Twisted and Torn


When the call came in from Alfred, Clark was understandably surprised. Alfred never called him. Bruce, for that matter, rarely called him these days either. In fact, Clark mused as he auto-piloted through pleasantries with Alfred, he hadn’t heard from the man in almost three weeks.

“Mr. Kent, the reason I call is that Master Bruce is…” Alfred trailed off as if considering exactly how to phrase the rest of the sentence. “Master Bruce is in need of a friend.”

“I see,” Clark said, not entirely sure what it was Alfred was trying to say.

“I realize it is dreadfully presumptuous of me to call,” Alfred continued in a tone of voice that made it clear that he believed himself perfectly entitled to this presumption.

Clark couldn’t help but smile.

“I understand, Alfred. I’ll be over tonight after work,” he promised. Alfred sounded very relieved as he thanked Clark and said his goodbyes.

That worried Clark almost as much as the call. All the other members of the, admittedly small, caped community spoke of how enigmatic Batman was but Clark knew for a fact that he was a mere novice compared to the perpetually composed Alfred.

In the end, Clark took off from work early with a lame excuse about confirming a bit of information from a source. Not exactly the truth but not a complete lie either. He only felt a little guilty when Lois shot him a suspicious look as he rushed to the elevators.

He was in the air less than an hour before he arrived at the costal cliffs where Wayne Manor, and subsequently the Bat Cave, were situated. He made sure no one was watching as he flew into the tunnel Batman usually used as an exit for the Batwing.

Clark bit back a shout of surprise as his trip through the tunnel startled a flock of roosting bats. Clark was engulfed for a moment. He made himself go perfectly still, hovering in midair as they swarmed past him and out into the darkening twilight.

It didn’t take an investigative reporter to know what the bats meant, Clark reflected as he picked up speed for the remainder of his trip through the tunnel. Bruce hadn’t been out in the Batwing in several days. Which either meant it was on the fritz, or that Batman was too injured to use it.

Clark sincerely doubted that Alfred had called him because Bruce was upset over a broken Batwing. Besides, Clark was almost certain Bruce had several spares.

He touched down in the corner of the Batcave with the large computer bank. It was Bruce’s favorite haunt as it housed all his case files and a convenient side table where Alfred left him snacks and sandwiches.

Oddly, however, the small table was bare and the computer was off, the large black screen loomed ominously over the empty Cave. Clark hesitated for a moment before starting a walk through of various areas and alcoves. He always tried very hard to respect the privacy of his friends. Especially Bruce as he was such an intensely private man, fundamentally. However, the further and further Clark made his way through the Cave, the more and more tempted he became to use his super-hearing and x-ray vision.

Clark was weighing the pros and cons of dealing with a furious Bruce verses finding him faster when Clark turned a corner and abruptly ran into the man.

Bruce was standing, half-dressed, in front of a case of drawers in the small alcove where he kept his spare uniforms. One of the drawers was half open and he was pulling something that looked a little like long underwear out of it. He immediately turned to face Clark when he stepped into the alcove.

Clark wasn’t sure, for several moments, what shocked him more: the sound of Bruce’s voice or his appearance.

“What are you doing here?” he asked Clark accusatorily and Clark pursed his lips.

When Bruce disguised his voice, he tried to make it go deeper and gruffer. This was nothing like that. His voice sounded harsh and raspy in the silence of the Cave. As if he had injured his throat from shouting somehow. It sounded like it hurt Bruce to speak.

Clark couldn’t answer and made himself bite back a grunt of dismay as he took in Bruce’s appearance.

The first thing Clark noticed was Bruce’s eyes. They were sunken deep into his face and rimmed with dark circles that Clark originally took to be bruises. Upon closer inspection, Clark realized that the circles were from lack of sleep and dehydration. They looked glassy and vaguely unfocused in the dim light of the alcove.

Bruce’s pale skin was rubbed with dirt and soot and his hair was mussed from his cowl. He smelled strongly of smoke and his uniform pants were burned in several places, revealing through the holes several large, dark red welts.

“What happened?” Clark made himself ask in slow measured tones as he watched Bruce.

Bruce shrugged stiffly in reply and pulled a fresh uniform top from the drawer he had been riffling. Only it wasn’t a uniform top.

Well, it wasn’t Batman’s uniform top. It was dark grey without an insignia or any extra padding or body armor. Clark suddenly realized that Bruce wasn’t wearing his uniform pants either. The bottoms he was wearing were made of the same thin material as the top in his hands. It resembled something a cyclist would wear, not a crime fighter.

“I stopped a fire,” Bruce explained to Clark, shortly. He walked past Clark and out of the alcove in long, strides that lacked his usual grace and ease of movement.

Clark kicked off from the ground and followed after Bruce, hovering to the right of him.

“How did you stop a fire?” Clark asked and tried hard to keep his voice neutral.

Bruce ignored the question and pulled on his shirt.

“Are you here for any specific reason, or just to bother me?” Bruce growled and the catch in his voice made Clark wince.

He grabbed Bruce by one shoulder and pulled them both to a stop.

Clark looked into Bruce’s face with shock as he felt Bruce’s arm through his thin top.

Clark knew what human muscle felt like, what Bruce’s muscle felt like. It was soft and supple compared to Clark’s own. It had give and was somewhat tensile.

Bruce’s muscle didn’t feel that way anymore. It was hard and unyielding, solid even.

Like Clark’s.

Clark gazed at Bruce and he knew his shock was written clearly on his face but he couldn’t be bothered to attempt to compose himself right now.

“What happened, Bruce?” Clark hissed and they both knew what he meant.

Bruce drew himself up for several moments, straightening his posture and taking on a defensive air before he slumped his shoulders and hung his head.

“I… I’m not sure, exactly,” he admitted to Clark, slowly. His voice had gone soft, almost to a raspy whisper and now Clark was sure that it hurt for Bruce to talk. “I teamed up with Etrigan against this sorceress. We defeated her, but not before she ‘cursed’ me.”

“Cursed you?” Clark asked, confused and more than a little concerned.

“May your deepest desire be twisted and torn/Until you are broken, lost and forlorn,” Bruce quoted with a sigh.

“Why didn’t you contact Zatanna?” Clark asked, bewildered.

“I didn’t think it had taken effect,” Bruce answered defensively, lifting his head to glare at Clark. “When I realized that it had and what I could do…”

“What can you do?” Clark asked, already knowing the answer. A rivulet of liquid dread pooled in Clark’s belly as he waited for Bruce to speak.

“I have powers now. Like you. I’m faster, stronger. I can fly. I can do so many things, Clark,” Bruce whispered and his voice cracked on the hard consonants in Clark’s name. “I wanted to do some good with it. To, at least, relieve some suffering before I asked Zatanna to reverse it.”

Clark took a deep breath, trying to calm himself.

“How long ago did she curse you?” Clark kept his voice even and firm.

“Four days ago,” Bruce admitted, guiltily.

“And in those four days you—“ Bruce cut Clark off with insistent desperation.

“I’ve been helping people, Clark. I’ve done more for my city in four days than I would have been able to in a lifetime without these powers.”

Clark swallowed hard and looked deep into Bruce’s dim and glassy eyes.

“Have you slept?” Clark asked, not bothering to keep the accusation out of his tone. “Have you eaten? When’s the last time you rested?” his voice broke over the questions, but he didn’t stop. “Did you even stop to consider the ‘twisted and torn’ parts of the curse?”

“Clark, you don’t understand,” Bruce broke in, his face and voice resolute.

“Yes, I do!” Clark shouted and grabbed Bruce hard by the shoulders. He pushed him up against the nearest wall and made direct eye contact.

“I understand how hard it is to stop. I know that dozens of people die every time I go to sleep at night. But I also know that I would fall apart if I didn’t sleep,” he hissed into Bruce’s face.

Bruce took a deep shaky breath and he looked just as lost and forlorn as the curse had predicted.

Clark softened his voice.

“You know you can’t keep doing this. You know it has to end. You know, Bruce,” Clark whispered and Bruce slumped against him.

“More people will die,” Bruce whispered and Clark wrapped his arms around Bruce and held him tight.

“Yes, they will,” Clark admitted and rubbed what he hoped were comforting circles over Bruce’s back.

“I don’t know if I can live with that,” Bruce confessed and pressed his face into Clark’s shoulder.

Clark nudged Bruce with his shoulder and used a hand to tilt Bruce’s head until he was facing Clark.

“You can,” Clark assured him. “Because if you weren’t here at all, even more people would suffer.”

Bruce nodded his head tiredly and took another shaky breath.

“Broken, lost and forlorn” didn’t even seem to come close to describing Bruce, right now. The man was usually so confident and self assured but all of that seemed to be lost under a landslide of exhaustion and self loathing.

“Hey,” Clark said and nudged Bruce’s cheek so the other man raised his eyes to look at Clark. “You didn’t fail. This was a forgone outcome.”

“But you can you handle—“ Bruce started in, but Clark cut him off.

“You didn’t fail,” Clark repeated, desperate for his words to sink into Bruce’s thick skull. He pressed what was meant to be a quick, reassuring kiss to Bruce’s cheek, and fought the impulse to linger.

Clark fought for composure as he held Bruce close.

“Clark?” Bruce called to him softly and when Clark turned his face to look at Bruce, Bruce kissed him softly on the mouth, the contact lasting barely a second. “Thank you,” he whispered against Clark’s lips and Clark felt himself go hot all over.

He nodded mutely and kissed Bruce back. Pressing their mouths together, only this time he did linger.

Clark reveled in the feel of Bruce’s mouth pressing against his own. He memorized every nuance of that moment from Bruce’s slightly chapped lips to his lightly stubbled face.

“When’s the last time you shaved?” Clark asked in a whisper, amusement and affection in his voice.

“I don’t remember,” Bruce whispered back and kissed Clark again, pressing their mouths more firmly together and breathing in deep through his nose. Clark took a shaky breath of his own and kissed back, pressing soft, closed-mouth kisses to Bruce’s lower lip. He ran his tongue along it and felt Bruce’s mouth open and his tongue dart out to slowly lick at Clark’s.

Clark’s breath caught in his chest and he panted.

“Oh god, are we—“ Clark started to ask but Bruce interrupted him.

“Yes, we are,” he said and his voice was clear and firm. He leaned forward and kissed Clark again, sucking Clark’s lower lip into his mouth and playing at it with his tongue. Clark’s eyes drifted shut as he tightened his arms around Bruce, bringing their bodies flush together.

“Bedroom. Upstairs. Now,” Bruce husked when they broke apart. He reached down and grabbed Clark’s hand and kicked off the ground. They both flew up the stairs of the Cave and into the Manor proper.

Clark knew that it was a curse and that Bruce was suffering from it, but Clark couldn’t help but feel exhilarated at flying with Bruce. It felt good. Right.

Clark had spent most of his life feeling isolated and alone. When he finally hit his mid-twenties he had decided that he was going to utilize his differences rather than hide and hate them. He had become Superman less than two years ago and had almost convinced himself that he didn’t need someone to understand him or his compulsion to do what he could to help mankind.

Until he met Batman.

Clark had immediately recognized in Bruce a kindred spirit and while their first few run ins were less than congenial, the two of them had acknowledged that they were both new to the job and could use each other’s help. They eventually developed a great empathy for each other and both had ended up creeping inexorably into the other’s personal life.

Clark respected Bruce’s drive and passion just as Bruce respected Clark’s power and altruism. The attraction they had for each other clearly extended beyond capes and masks and super villains.

Bruce lead Clark up another flight of stairs and down a long hall. When they finally reached what must have been Bruce’s bedroom, Bruce didn’t even bother to turn on the lights when they entered.

The windows were open, letting the breeze from off the ocean waft into the room and stir the curtains on the windows. The darkened room was large and neat but Bruce didn’t give Clark much time to examine it before pulling him over towards the large four poster bed.

Bruce pushed Clark down on the bed. Clark fell back and watched as Bruce leaned over, bracing both hands on either side of Clark’s head. He watched Clark intently and his eyes seemed far more focused than they had earlier, down in the Cave.

He kissed Clark again, only this kiss was curious and exploratory. His lips and tongue were tentative and cautious against Clark’s own. It wasn’t until Clark wrapped his arms around Bruce’s neck and deepened the kiss that Bruce gained confidence again.

His hands trailed down Clark’s chest and belly to pull at the hem of his uniform top. They both wrestled him out of it with more than a few breathy laughs and whispered curses.

Bruce lowered his mouth to Clark’s throat, kissing and nipping his way to Clark’s collar bones. He kissed a trail down Clark’s chest, tonguing the underside of Clark’s rib bones until he bucked and squirmed under Bruce.

Bruce grabbed him by the hips and held Clark down as he continued to run his tongue along the ridges. Clark knew, cognitively, that Bruce had super-strength, but he was shocked nonetheless when he realized he couldn’t break Bruce’s hold.

It scared him and turned him on more than he would have liked to admit.

Bruce let go of Clark long enough to skim Clark’s pants over his hips and down his legs. Clark toed off his shoes and kicked his uniform off the rest of the way as Bruce rested his hands on Clark’s bare thighs and just looked down at him.

Clark had always been amazing at the level of concentration Bruce possessed. Now, as he was examined just as minutely as any crime scene, Clark was wishing that Bruce wasn’t quite so focused.

Clark swallowed hard and rocked up to grab at Bruce’s shirt and pull it over his head. Bruce helped. He toed off his boots and undid his belt before he knelt on the floor at the side of the bed. He watched Clark carefully from his vantage point in between his legs before tilting his head to the side and licking Clark’s inner thigh.

Clark felt his stomach go hot and liquid as every nerve ending on his body stood to attention. He tried hard not to squirm as Bruce licked and sucked and kissed his inner thighs but only really managed to stop when Bruce grabbed him by the hips and held him down again.

Bruce’s mouth made it’s way higher and higher up Clark’s thigh. He rocked his head from side to side on the neat bed spread as he tried hard to resist palming his dick and jerking off as Bruce watched him, from between his legs, with those deeply contemplative eyes. He tried not to imagine how those eyes would look at him if he came all over Bruce’s face.

He groaned deep in his chest and panted as he gripped the coverlet in an effort to keep from fisting his erection and making his vision a reality.

Bruce’s hand slid from Clark’s hip to cup under his left thigh. He pushed Clark’s leg up until his knee was almost flush against his chest. He spread Clark’s legs wide and Clark felt Bruce’s tongue, hot and insistent, sliding towards his hole.

Clark cried out as the tip of Bruce’s tongue pressed against him and he shivered against the bed.

Clark felt himself flush all over and his cock shot precome onto his belly as he shook and tried to remember how to breathe.

Bruce tongued him hotly and nudged gently at Clark’s balls with his nose. He made a soft, satisfied noise against Clark and speared his tongue deeper inside.

“Ah!” Clark felt his voice break on a gasp and sweat broke out over his skin.

Clark was going a little dizzy around the eyes when he felt one of Bruce’s fingers pressing slickly into him. He moaned and squirmed until Bruce tightened his grip on Clark’s hip and held down.

Clark felt Bruce’s finger sliding inside him, knuckle by knuckle, as Bruce mouthed lightly at his balls and the base of his cock. Bruce moved his finger in and out of Clark several times, slowly fucking him, until he gently added another finger. He scissored them and stretched Clark deliciously before pushing them both back in, fast and deep.

One of Bruce’s fingers hit Clark’s prostate and Clark’s vision went spotty as he shouted Bruce’s name into the darkness of the room.

Bruce was making low, hungry sounds in the back of his throat that Clark probably would have missed if he hadn’t had super hearing. Clark tried hard to make his mouth work so he could ask Bruce to either blow him or fuck him, but all that came out was a low, plaintive groan.

Suddenly, Bruce’s fingers slid out of Clark and he opened his eyes to find Bruce standing over him. He could only blink dumbly and watch as Bruce kicked off his pants and came down on top of Clark.

Clark cried out and arched up under him, elated to finally have a little friction against his dripping erection. Bruce buried his face in Clark’s neck and groaned, low in his throat.

“Clark,” Bruce whispered in his ear. “I—“ but Bruce never finished his sentence. He slid his knee under Clark’s thigh, pushing it up and over Bruce’s hip, spreading Clark wide. Bruce braced himself over Clark with one hand and reached the other down to grasp his own cock and guide it to Clark’s slick hole.

A long moment stretched between them as Bruce’s erection hovered at his entrance. When Bruce did finally start to push in, Clark let out a long moan.

Bruce felt big and hard and hot. Clark strained with the effort not to arch up onto the intruding cock.

Bruce was panting hard in Clark’s ear, his breaths coming hard and raspy in his lungs. It seemed like forever until Bruce pushed home, pressing himself completely inside of Clark. Then Clark did arch up, shifting his hips until Bruce groaned and Clark felt Bruce’s erection brush against his prostate.

Clark reached down a hand and fisted his erection. He groaned Bruce’s name as his knuckles rubbed along the firm lines of Bruce’s abs while Clark pressed Bruce as deep as he would go and jerked himself himself towards climax.

Bruce didn’t need any more encouragement than that. His hips snapped in a fast, perfect rhythm and Clark met every hard, forceful thrust with an arch of his hips. Neither of them was being gentle now as they fucked desperate and fast in the darkness of Bruce’s bedroom.

When Clark came, feeling himself shout Bruce’s name and clench hard around his cock, he felt more liberated and unrestrained that he ever had in his entire life.

Clark woke up half an hour later feeling satiated and relaxed until he turned his head to look over at Bruce. His face was still smudged with soot and the dark circles under his eyes hadn’t faded in the slightest.

Clark slipped out from under the mussed coverlet and padded down the hall to Bruce’s study. He didn’t bother to flick on the lamp, relying on the moonlight streaming in through the large windows to find the phone on the desk.

He tried hard not to look at the large portrait of Bruce’s parents that hung over the fire place as he dialed the phone. The thought of it made him feel vaguely like a teenager who had been caught with his hands up his girlfriend’s shirt.

It didn’t make any sense. Clark and Bruce were both twenty four and there was no way Bruce’s parents could ever know what he had just done with their son.

Clark tried not to think about it as the phone rang on the other end of the line.

“’Ello?” came the sleepy answer and Clark swore mentally and glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner.

It was going on three in the morning.

“Hi Zatanna, it’s Superman. I’m sorry to call so late,” he answered, apologetically.

“No problem. Is everything ok?” she asked.

Clark explained to her about the curse, being careful not to mention how helplessly Bruce had played into it.

“Mmm, he’s lucky,” she mused. “Curses aren’t that hard to break, actually.”

“How do we do it?” Clark asked, feeling a wave of relief sweep over him.

“Historically, curses are broken by ‘True Love’s first kiss’,” she explained and Clark felt himself go cold. “But we’ve recently discovered that, as the nature of ‘True Love’ is so fickle and fleeting, a first kiss from any love will do it. So just find someone Bruce has romantic feelings for and tell him to pucker up.”

“You’re serious?” Clark asked trying hard not to picture Bruce kissing a slew of other people in an effort to break the curse.

“As a heart attack. I do not envy you your job,” Zatanna teased and hug up.

Clark heaved a sigh and replaced the phone in its cradle. He pointedly did not think as he flitted back into Bruce’s room.

Bruce was still sprawled out on the bed, the blankets kicked down to the foot of the bed. He was so deeply asleep, the cool evening breeze that wafted in through his open window didn’t seem to bother him at all. He didn’t even wake up when Clark cupped his shoulder to shake him awake.

Clark paused the moment his hand came in contact with Bruce’s skin. The muscle felt soft against Clark’s palm and gave slightly when he pressed his thumb against it.

It felt like human muscle.

Clark closed his eyes as happiness bubbled up from low in his stomach. He took a deep, steadying breath before lying down and curling up next to Bruce on the bed.

“I love you too, Bruce,” he whispered to his lover and fell asleep with a smile on his face.

Comments

( 28 comments — Leave a comment )
ex_felonazc
Apr. 16th, 2009 12:11 am (UTC)
Heeeeee! :D

That's certainly one way to admit you love someone. ♥

So cute! So nice! So smexy! *gives the Feebs seal of approval*
aravistarkheena
Apr. 17th, 2009 12:23 am (UTC)
Awww, the Feebs seal of approval? My day is made. :DD
batfan_sarah
Apr. 16th, 2009 01:32 am (UTC)
Yay!

This was awesome. Thank you so much - I've been craving some nice romantiporn as of late and this hits the jackpot. Hot and dirty AND sweet :)

I owe you art, and a virtual hug!

*hug hug hug*
aravistarkheena
Apr. 17th, 2009 12:25 am (UTC)
I'm glad it fits the bill. It sucks to have unfulfilled fic cravings.

*hugs back* I can't wait to see what you draw for me. I'm so excited. :DDD
cmer
Apr. 16th, 2009 02:30 am (UTC)
Yay, it's posted! It's even better here because the html tags aren't so distracting. Not your fault, of course, they bother me too whenever I'm writing, lol.

*hugs* Again, I cannot stress how much I adored reading this. Brucie angsting and Clark doing everything he can to save him. It's only a bonus that I got porn AND it ended on such a sweet, sweet note. Honestly, I'm so spoiled. <3
aravistarkheena
Apr. 17th, 2009 12:31 am (UTC)
I just posted it over at worlds_finest, too. I feel like it's been forever since I posted anything there.

It was fun to write them again. I haven't written them for MONTHS. I get distracted by the idea of Timmy making out with random boys. D:

I have no will power.

'Timmy needs kisses' should be my philosophy of life.
cmer
Apr. 17th, 2009 04:28 am (UTC)
I write S/B on and off, I just haven't posted anything yet. (Plus it's really hard right now as I'm too depressed and unmotivated to do anything.) I'm too damned picky with what I write and I like writing plot-intensive stuff, so I'm never happy about posting it until I'm finished, which is never. And I just can't write a simple scene and be done with it. I once was asked to write a 100 worded Martian Manhunter cutsey thing and it turned into over 200 without my realizing it. It was hard trimming it down, lol.

I love your philosophy. It makes perfect sense. Timmy will always need kisses. <333
aravistarkheena
Apr. 17th, 2009 09:18 pm (UTC)
Some people just can't write shortish stories. I think it's really hard too. Maybe with more practice you'll get better at it. Have you considered claiming a small table over at dcu_freeforall? You can try your hand at writing ten small prompts and just work on them from time to time.

I think it might help you as a writing exercise.
cmer
Apr. 18th, 2009 04:43 am (UTC)
I kinda want to make myself write little fics starting with just a couple of keywords and taking off from there. It worked, I guess: I started on a little thing last night about Dick feeling sleepy but he couldn't fall asleep and he got up to do something about it. I might post it this weekend if it doesn't look too horrible.

Something else that usually holds me back from finishing and posting these things is that I have a bit of a stage fright. It's silly and annoying at the same time; there's nothing to be afraid of at all, it's just a fun hobby and nothing more. But I still get nervous and don't get the energy to do anything for a long while, or I just don't want to post it at all because I lost the... need? to post it. :\

Edited at 2009-04-18 04:44 am (UTC)
aravistarkheena
Apr. 18th, 2009 05:42 pm (UTC)
You SHOULD post! The more you write and the more you post, the easier it gets. I have a little stage fright too, but I've gotten such a great flist that I know they'll be supportive and helpful no matter what I write. Maybe you need that too.

You could start posting to just your flist, or even on a filter if you think your flist is too big (I feel like you have a big one). Then when you start getting more confidence you can start posting to a wider audience.

The whole thing is about developing your style and you can't do that without an audience to tell you what your strengths and weaknesses are.
ava_jamison
Apr. 17th, 2009 12:29 am (UTC)
OMFG. That was beautiful.

This is like... is like perfect Batman/Superman love heaven.

Thank you.
aravistarkheena
Apr. 17th, 2009 12:58 am (UTC)
I'm glad you liked it. :D
saavikam77
Apr. 17th, 2009 01:46 am (UTC)
*purrs contentedly* ^__^ This really hit the spot, so to speak. I absolutely loved the H/C here, with the only real answer to Bruce's dilemma being hot sex with with Clark. ^_~ That's how ALL problems should be solved. *nods decisively*
aravistarkheena
Apr. 17th, 2009 09:12 pm (UTC)
Bruce certainly seemed to think hot sex was called for. You don't argue with Batman. >:D
twinsarein
Apr. 17th, 2009 03:02 am (UTC)
Wow! So hot and luscious. I loved Clark's concern and that first kiss, and then it got so hot. You described everything so well and vividly. Great job.
aravistarkheena
Apr. 17th, 2009 09:12 pm (UTC)
I'm glad that you enjoyed it. :DD
hitokaji
Apr. 17th, 2009 10:29 am (UTC)
Wow! This is so hot yet adorable and romantic. I love how Clark really cared about Bruce. They're such a nice couple. *giggles*

Well-done! I love it. Thank you for sharing. :)
aravistarkheena
Apr. 17th, 2009 09:13 pm (UTC)
Thanks so much. I'm glad you enjoyed it. :D
northernwalker
Apr. 17th, 2009 06:46 pm (UTC)
Very interesting. I can see Bruce responding to superpowers in just that way- "I can do so much!" Yeah, but you still need to eat and sleep!

Poor guy.
aravistarkheena
Apr. 17th, 2009 09:14 pm (UTC)
Poor Bruce, indeed. "Everything in moderation," Pa Kent used to say. Good thing Clark was there for him. <3
jlvsclrk
Apr. 17th, 2009 06:55 pm (UTC)
Such a wonderful story! I loved the angsty beginning with Bruce despairing at the limits of his newfound power - I think he'll have a much better understanding of Clark from now on.

And what a terrific way for Clark to learn that Bruce does love him. Yay Zatanna!
aravistarkheena
Apr. 17th, 2009 09:15 pm (UTC)
I'm glad that you liked it.

I'm pretty sure the next time Zee sees Bruce she's going to tease him and ask who helped break the curse. >:D
meteor_seven
Apr. 17th, 2009 10:22 pm (UTC)
This is a perfect way to confirm Bruce's feelings toward Clark. :D
I really like how Clark whispered "I love you too", so sweet. <3
aravistarkheena
Apr. 18th, 2009 12:30 am (UTC)
I'm glad you liked it. <3
mithen
Apr. 19th, 2009 10:18 am (UTC)
Wow. Wow. This was filthy hot in the best of ways, and deeply angsty in the best of ways, and incredibly romantic in the best of ways. I love the way you write these guys so very much.

I also so prefer this take on Bruce having powers than DC's recent version of it. I can so imagine Bruce running himself into exhaustion, doing nothing but saving people until his stamina gave out entirely.

And oh, Clark getting turned on when he can't break Bruce's grip is so, so hot. I love it.

The ending was so perfect...I love how Clark is able to see how Bruce feels about him and understand the implications of the curse being broken. So much left unsaid, so much that doesn't need to to be said between them.

This was exquisite.

aravistarkheena
Apr. 23rd, 2009 01:46 am (UTC)
I'm glad that you enjoyed it.

I couldn't even READ the S/B issues with Bruce having Superpowers. It seemed wildly uncharacteristic to me. Bruce working too hard makes much more sense to me. <3
elenorasweet
Apr. 19th, 2009 09:49 pm (UTC)
And Zatanna</i> Clark saves the day! ^___^ The detail about his trying not to look at the Waynes was adorable, and I liked the timing, and Alfred's careful loss of a tiny bit of his composure, very much. Great fic!
aravistarkheena
Apr. 23rd, 2009 01:46 am (UTC)
I'm glad you liked it! :D
( 28 comments — Leave a comment )

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