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Superman stared out the window of the Watchtower as the members of the Justice League gathered. 


He winced at the eerie sounds he could hear from down below. At first he’d thought someone was in trouble, but upon reaching the shores of Ireland he’d found no trace of whomever had been making the screeching and ghostly moaning. 


Yet the sound had only gotten stronger as the days and nights passed. It was October now and still he could hear them. When he’d asked the locals about it they’d said it was nothing, or that it happened every year. But they’d never been so loud. Not enough to garner his attention.


With a shake of his head he turned and strode over to where the members of the League sat. Noticed a raised brow behind one dark cowl. What would The Batman think? Would he worry that their esteemed leader had gone off the deep end? Would his best-friend pull out the lead box and open it, showing the horrid green crystal within its confines?


Maybe he’d be right, if Superman himself was starting to hear things that weren’t there. If he were trying to help people where help was neither needed nor appreciated. And yet there had been evidence in witness accounts saying they heard it to. Each year and that their grandparents and their grandparents had heard the same.


Taking a deep and calming breath he smiled. “It’s good to see you all again. Shall we begin?”

They nodded. All of them looking at him, but none of them with the burning intensity of The Bat’s gaze. Watching and waiting like a predator scenting for the weakness of their prey. Batman’s gaze had felt like that more and more as of late. It took all his concentration not to shift where he stood from foot to foot because of it.


“I do not mean to worry any of you, but there has been something odd going on.”


“With?” Batman was the first to ask, leaning forward over the table.


“Either myself or with a place in Ireland.”


The Flash blinked. “Ireland?”


Wonder Woman tilted her head. “Tell us more, Kal-El.”


“For the past several months I have been hearing screaming and eerie moaning and similar sounds. Yet each time I arrive where the sound is coming from it abruptly stops. No one is hurt or in need of help.”


Aquaman chuckled. “Maybe you were dreaming?”


He shook his head. “No. I was wide awake.”


Hawkman and Hawkwoman shared a glance before asking. “Do you need a break?”


“I had wondered that, but when I asked the locals there…,” he stiffened his posture so as not to shudder at the implications, “they said they’d been hearing it for years and that their grandparents and their grandparents before them had also heard it.”


The Martian Manhunter slowly blinked. “So this was not a dream.”


“No. I definitely heard something, but I can’t figure out what.”


Black Canary placed a hand on Green Arrow’s shoulder as she walked over to stand behind him. “Have you not heard it before this year?”


“I haven’t. Which did make me wonder how I haven’t when the locals say they have.”


Batman had flipped out a tablet and was scanning through it. “Where in Ireland?”


“Oweynagat, which is a cave in Roscommon County and part of Rathcroghan.” That was easy enough to answer, but it didn’t explain what was going on.


But, as always, Batman had some answers. “It would appear that the Oweynagat has something to do with Samhain. Which is a precursor to modern day Halloween.”


Everyone turned to stare at him.


Wonder Woman asked, “Did Samhain not have a goddess associated with it as well as several other less savory things? Something about the Otherworld?”


The frown lines around Batman’s mouth deepened. “Yes. It is a time when the doorway to the Otherworld opened, allowing supernatural beings and souls of the dead to enter our world, the world of the living. I don’t like this.”


Green Arrow chuckled. “Of course not. Not if magic is involved.”


“Solomon Grundy already tried to take over with a zombie army that one Halloween.”


Everyone shuddered at that and shook the thought away.


Superman’s brows furrowed. “If I can hear it when I couldn’t before…”


Everyone turned their gaze to him as Batman growled out, “The doorway is weaker than ever. We need to investigate further.”


He blinked, once. “No one thinks I’m losing my mind?”


The Martian Manhunter shook his head. “No, and I was certain you were not, even before I took a look.”


He wasn’t sure he liked when he did that, but it did reassure him so he gave thanks before asking the room. “How many of us need to investigate this?”


Batman stood up and pocketed his tablet. “For now, just the two of us. We’ll arrive as tourists in the morning on the Wayne Jet.” He glared through the cowl at Superman, “We will not be flying your way. We do not need the suspicion.”


He sighed. “Very well. When do we leave?”


“Get packed for a week’s worth and I’ll meet you in a few hours. I’ll also book us into a hotel and we should be there sometime before noon in Ireland.”


“Why do you two get to have all the fun?” Green Arrow complained even as Black Canary patted him on the shoulder.

By the time they had arrived at the cave with its myths surrounding it the sounds had gotten even louder to his ear than ever before. Clark did not like it and winced. He couldn’t even drown out the sound to ignore it as he had so many sounds before except for those that called out, Superman Help!


So he picked up one of the pillows of the jet and placed it over his head to try and drown out the noise. It barely helped at all.


“Not something you’re used to, is it?” The arrogant billionaire asked.


Clark groaned. “No, Bruce, it’s not. I can usually filter out the billions of voices and various sounds, but this… it’s impossible.”


“Magic must be at work. I hate magic.”


“Me too,” he grimaced at the thought. It was one of the few things to which he was vulnerable. 


“We’ve landed, Clark,” Bruce said moments later. Clark had felt it, but had also been too distracted by the strong sounds coming from that location within the country that was Ireland.


Lowering the pillow he closed his eyes and took a deep breath and sighed. 


“Show me to this cave.”


Clark chuckled. “Of course you’d be interested in the cave.”


Bruce frowned at him. “It was the one place you mentioned was most suspicious.”


“That’s true,” he sighed and nodded in the direction the cave was in. “This way, Bruce.”


The closer they got, the louder the sound to the ears of one Clark Kent, the last son of Krypton known as Kal-El. He winced.


Bruce’s brows furrowed. “It doesn’t sound loud right now.”


“It does to me.” Clark shuddered and clasped his hands over his ears.


From out of the cave hopped a large crow that cawed at them. The bird cocked its head and flapped its wings. It’s beak almost got Bruce in the face, but he ducked.


Clark gasped as the bird got the palm of his hand when he went to try and grab it. But it hurt.


Bruce turned and stared, his brows further furrowed. “Clark, you’re bleeding.”


The crow flapped back to the ground and hopped into the darkness of the cave.


Bruce took Clark’s hand and pulled out a bit of gauze. The man was always prepared for everything, but surely he didn’t have his utility belt on without the rest of the suit!


“Thanks… but…”


“I know, Clark. We must be dealing with the magical. This cave might be some kind of portal.”


Clark gulped. “Yeah. Which means maybe… someone’s hurt in there and in terrible pain.”


“There’s only one way to find out.”


They both glared at the cave and uttered, “I hate magic.”


A light laugh echoed in the cave. A woman’s voice followed. “And yet your world is more filled with magic than you know. But it’s true, a warrior is in the throes of death.”


“What have you done to them?” Bruce growled while Clark held him back by taking hold of his elbow.


“Why, nothing. I only know when it is time for a warrior to die. I herald their end, but I don’t bring about their demise myself. Alas this warrior, it was not their time to die and yet they have been stuck in this limbo for so long. Those who braved their way through this tunnel were unable to cross over to help, or worse they perished before they could help. It may be for the best if you don’t even try.”


“Who are you?” Clark frowned. There was no way he wasn’t going to try, even though with it being a place mired in magic, he had to try and help the one suffering.


The woman smirked at them.

Bruce muttered. “The Mórrígan.”


She grinned, so wide that it was reminiscent of the joker.


Clark shuddered and Bruce narrowed his eyes.


“That’s correct.” She sighed and her smile was gone. She gazed away from them and toward somewhere unknown. “Not many know of me anymore and even fewer believe in me. The world has changed a great deal.”


Bruce grunted as Clark nodded.


“We’re going in, aren’t we?” Clark asked of Bruce.


Bruce nodded. “Yes. But we’d best get our other suits on. I don’t want to go in there unprepared.”


The Mórrígan gazed upon the pair of them and smiled. “Thank you. But before you do go in, I should give you something.” She lifted her hand and to it flew a raven which perched upon the limb.


“There’s my lovely. I’m in need of a couple feathers. You don’t mind, do you?”


The raven cocked its head to the right and the left. Then it raised a wing and with its beak plucked two feathers out and let them fall into The Mórrígan’s second hand.


Bruce frowned at the offered feathers that the goddess held out to him and Clark. “What do those do?”


“They might turn you into a raven, if you need to do so. The feather’s however will disappear then and if you don’t get out of the land within, by daybreak you’re likely to be stuck there in whatever form you prefer, or out in this world as raven’s.”


Clark’s eyes widened while Bruce’s frown deepened.


“We don’t need those.”


“Ah, but you do. You won’t be able to get past the barrier without a feather, and the feathers will protect you.”


“Explain.” Bruce’s voice dropped a register. The voice that always got to Clark. Deep and rough, like he imagined…


Clark gave himself a mental shake and blinked away the images that had popped up.


“The feathers are imbued with magic. Only those who have feathers are able to get inside. Without the feather they’ll be unable to get out. Lose a feather and one of you will be trapped. Lose both and there will be no way for either of you to escape or help the other one out. At least not without losing your humanoid forms. While all of that is true and I mentioned it previously, the feathers will keep the dead that live here from attacking you. For here the dead are a bit more tangible and are capable of killing you. Even those from other planets are not safe from death. For there is no sun to be found within, only moonlight and will-o-wisps.”


Bruce’s frown didn’t disappear as he asked, “Should we be weary of the will-o-wisps?”


The Mórrígan turned her attention to the raven and scratched the top of its head with one fingernail. The raven’s feathers puffed up and settled down again. “Some may try to lead you on a merry chase as a prank, some may lead you to your death, for they know where all the traps are, and others may try to help you. It is your decision whether to trust any of them or not, but the longer you take the less time you will have. More than this I cannot tell you.”


Bruce looked at Clark and Clark nodded. In a whirlwind of motion, Clark tore open his shirt to reveal the House of El crest and his glasses were gone. Everything was super compressed and placed in a pocket of the cape. He blinked when he saw Bruce duck behind a rock and emerge in full Batman regalia. One of the classics that was easier to hide beneath his clothes.

Once they passed the darkness of the cave, there was little light save from the will-o-wisps that danced before their eyes. Clark stopped to stare at them and blinked. He didn’t realize he’d started to follow one until Bruce gripped his bicep.

“This way, Clark.”

Broken from the hypnotic motion of the will-o-wisp he followed Bruce’s lead. Clark felt far more vulnerable to magic, especially depowered as he was. It was magic that had stripped him of all his gifts underneath the yellow sun after all as soon as he’d set one step inside the cave. He’d felt it all drain away and disappear until they emerged, he was as mortal as Batman himself. Without the added benefit of striking fear into the hearts of criminals.


But it wasn’t into a forest they found themselves as they neared a river. A river with a current so swift that it had wave after wave crashing against the shore. It was too wide to leap across and the vines and trees were dead, broken, and withered.


“How will we get across, B?”


Batman turned his head to the right and then the left. He nodded left. “If we can’t cross here, maybe we’ll come across a bridge, or a place where the current isn’t so lethal.”


Clark watched Batman walking in front of him. The way his cape didn’t drag, or move despite the slight breeze. He knew there were weights at the end of the cape. Yet the way it bunched together and came undone with every step. The dramatic flare as Batman turned around to keep an eye on him, Clark couldn’t look away. He thought touching the cape was surely akin to touching the man behind the mask and hidden by the Batsuit.


He shook away the thought. They weren’t there to canoodle. Not that Bruce was aware of Clark’s feelings. Not that Bruce felt even half how Clark did in regard to him.


And, knowing Batman, he’d tell him in that deep rough register that they were there for a mission. Which they were.


“Look,” Batman halted and Clark nearly ran into him. He had to grab onto Bruce’s shoulder to keep from falling and toppling them both over.


Bruce’s muscles tensed underneath his hand.


“Sorry, tripped,” which was nothing but the truth. Without his superspeed and other abilities, he felt a little bit clumsy and that had just proven it.


“There’s a bridge ahead.”


Clark nodded when he saw it. “I see it.”


Batman and he cautiously approached the enclosed bridge. Bruce stomped his booted foot down, testing it. When it didn’t sway he took one careful step inside after another with Clark close at his heel.


And then, the dim light from the two ends disappeared and a loud double bang of a garage door closing abruptly echoed through the narrow passage.


An opaque body with an eerie blue-white glow passed through the wall and laughed. “HAHAHAHA! You’re gonna get it now! Soon ya wont have no oxygen.”


If he still had his powers he wouldn’t need to breath, but now, like any human, he’d die without the air filled with oxygen.


Batman, always prepared pulled out a flashlight and looked around.


Clark spotted something as the light moved over a corner. “Bruce! I saw something.” He took hold of Bruce’s wrist once he found it in the dark and guided the light to point at the panel.


Bruce hurried to it and frowned. “It’s a puzzle.”

“Sudoku?” Clark could have figured it out in a matter of milliseconds if he’d had his powers. He could still figure it out but when he went to speak and give away an answer no sound was forthcoming. Not if he tried to speak of the puzzle anyway.



“Can you solve it?”


“I think so.”

Clark took the flashlight and held it over the puzzle and Batman’s face. He couldn’t see his eyes, but only the purse of his lips in consternation.


He watched as Bruce figured out where certain numbers could not possibly go and where some numbers might go.


They listened to the loud countdown and the warning siren going off. But until Bruce solved the puzzle they weren’t escaping. Clark worried that they might well die there and then.


How long did the hardest sudoku puzzle ever even take? He wondered why it couldn’t have been something else. Something less mundane and a bit easier at least.


Just watching Bruce piece together the puzzle caught Clark’s attention. His cock twitched in interest, but he ignored it. Had to ignore it. They were in danger. The pair of them and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.


Clark watched the tip for Bruce’s tongue press against the man’s upper lip as he filled in the puzzle pieces. One number at a time. There were a couple of times Bruce had to erase an entire row or column, but he’d been so close.


This was a puzzle that would take others hours, days, or even weeks to solve. But their time was limited.


Had The Mórrígan sent them to their deaths?


Then Bruce let out a single chuckle as he scribbled numbers down and then typed them onto the screen as the oxygen meter counted down from ten.













Three. There were going to die!




O… and then the sound of pressure being released followed.


Clark sank to his knees, biting into his lower lip.


Bruce’s gauntleted hand found Clark’s hair. “Come on Clark, get up. We’re alive.”


Taking the man’s hand he allowed him to help him back up onto his feet, knees shaking.


“I thought…”


“I know what you thought. I would have too, but I had to think about the puzzle and nothing else.”


He followed Bruce out of the death trap they’d been in. Where they’d nearly lost their lives due to lack of oxygen in an airtight narrow space.


The Mórrígan stood there in front of a great scaled beast. “Congratulations, Superbat, you have survived the first trial. As a reward, you may take Aerisyn with you. They will aid you on your journey as you got out of there with both your feathers intact. It is here I must bid you farewell again until you have rescued the warrior.”


In the blink of an eye the goddess disappeared and with her a flock of crows and ravens.

Clark watched as Bruce approached the black dragon with the blue eyes with one hand outstretched, palm up. He had managed to solve the puzzle and it was a lucky thing it was something that was known in their time, or perhaps it was drawn from his life experiences. Clark had thought he’d known the answer, but the magic of the place had held his tongue. Had Bruce failed at this task he would have given him his feather, but they still would have had no way to cross the boiling ocean of lava to get to the other side. Where Clark knew there had to be another test waiting for them. Waiting for him. A test that he could not use his powers under the yellow sun to pass, for the magic of the lands had drained him of said powers leaving him as vulnerable, if not more so than Batman himself.


If only the man behind the masks would let someone in. Clark so badly wanted to love him and to let him know. The way he’d solved that puzzle had ignited his desire for the man yet again. Any time he was around Bruce, whether outside of the cowl or wearing it. Yet he dare not speak of the feelings he held for the man.


It was a feat in itself that Bruce never noticed how tight his uniform got in unmentionable places. Perhaps it was the cape. Or Clark making sure he couldn’t tell by vibrating his entire body and leaving only some impression that he wasn’t really moving at all.


Bruce’s bare hand touched the scales of the dark dragon. It’s eyes lit up as if it had been under some control before. And it was at that moment the dragon broke free of whatever spell had bound it.


What they heard next shocked the pair of them.


It’s voice was deep and rough, much like Batman’s as the dragon spoke. “Greetings, young warriors of the current era. I am the son of Plague, known only by the name Aerisyn. I have been waiting for someone worthy to take as my rider and you have well proven yourself, Bruce of the family Wayne. I know your every dream and every fear. And one of those fears is unfounded. Take a leap of faith, champion of Gotham.”


Clark had no idea what the dragon, Aerisyn, spoke of, but he hoped Bruce listened to the sentient lifeform.


Aerisyn lowered his neck which was four feet long. He lay his belly on the ground, all four limbs tucked beneath him.

Batman nodded to Clark and Clark moved to scramble up the side of the dragon. Even laying as the mighty beast was he still stood as tall as a horse of seventeen hands.

Clark bit into his lower lip when he felt a large hand on his ass to assist him in seating himself on the dragon’s back. He was glad there were no painful spikes and instead only a soft glossy black mane.

Behind him, Batman settled. Clark’s eyes widened as the man put his arms around his waist and held on. Clark felt the warmth of Bruce’s breath against his ear. In fact he felt more than he ever expected to when something hard poked his backside through the material of his suit.


Clark felt his face heating up and closed his eyes. He took in a deep breath before slowly letting it out. His uniform had just gotten uncomfortably tight.


The dragon made a strange sound. Almost as if it were laughing.


“I do hope the two of you will manage this great feat and once done reveal the truths within your hearts instead of hiding it. The path before you may be paved with obstacles, but I am certain if it is the pair of you, you will overcome. There are few strong enough to withstand the trials and tribulations you may one day face, but only together will you overcome. Now, let us be off, for we have no time to waste.”


Aerisyn lifted their wings, a span of thirty feet. Beneath them the grass swayed as if a strong wind had arrived. Up and up the dragon flew, using its tail like a rudder to help it navigate.


Clark had a difficult time concentrating when Bruce was so warm against his back, even through their suits. He longed to just relax and melt back against him, but the man was too much of a playboy. Maybe not as much as the tabloids said for a lot of it was just mirrors for his cover story. And Gotham was the man’s first priority. His first love. Much as Metropolis was his.


Clark wondered why he always fell for the crazy billionaires with tragic backstories. At least Bruce Wayne as Batman had gone the path of helping others, especially children in need. Where as the one he’d loved and still felt a small pang for had gone the direction of a sociopath with xenophobic tendiences so deep that the man kept trying to kill Superman. Sometimes he wondered if Lex knew, would he still do the things he’d done, to him, and, because of him?


That was puppy love. One never forgot their first love. But Batman… Bruce… the depth of his feelings was fathomless. Every time he saw him, heard him, he fell a little bit more. And his heart ached to think of him with someone else, even though the man didn’t realize Clark’s own feelings. At least he believed him to be oblivious of the deep chasm that was Clark’s heart and soul, where every moment he dreamt of Bruce. Everyone he rescued nowadays, was not just because of how he was raised, or the reasons he was sent to this world, but because he thought what if this was Bruce!? The very thought horrified him and he tried to rescue as many as he could, without ever reaching that unattainable dream. A life with Bruce as more than colleagues, more than friends.


He was brought out of his thoughts when Bruce’s hand shifted from around his waist to up over his chest. Where his heart beat a frenetic dance. He tried not to shake, tried to keep his breath nice and even. Bit into his lip when one finger brushed over a hard nipple through the too tight suit.


Then the dragon nose dived before coming back up. He hadn’t noticed what just happened, but he’d placed a hand over Bruce’s with the other tightening the hold on the dragon’s mane.


Aerisyn spoke again. “There are phantoms on our tail, from above and from below. They feed even now upon one of the eggs of my brethren. It is too late for them now, but the feathers you carry still bring you safety.”


The ocean of lava was wide. So wide Clark couldn’t see across it, not with his powers diminished in the darkness of the in between. The place between the living and the otherworld where the dead roamed. At least for those who believed in this place that had long been believed by those who celebrated Samhain.


Bruce’s hands had moved once again, now boxing Clark in as he too held onto the mane of Aerisyn.


Instead of watching the bubbling lava below, he stared at Bruce’s large hands, bare instead of hidden behind the gauntlets of his Batsuit ensemble. They were callused, rougher than a playboy billionaire who didn’t do any real work had any right to be. He wondered how they’d feel against his bare skin. Wondered how Bruce would feel in his hand, all hard muscle and firm flesh. How would he taste on his lips?


Clark closed his eyes and inhaled. His nostrils itched at the smell of burning flesh of some unknown creature. He wanted to stop and help whatever it was, but Aerisyn did not stop. They had little time.


Even so, he asked, “Shouldn’t we go back and help? Someone is burning.”


Aerisyn’s wings flapped as their tail dipped under them. The dragon flapped up and down in place. “It is too late for the burning one. They have been sentenced to an endless cycle where they are flesh renewed and then tossed into the lava once more. Yet it is from here where smaller demons escape to take possession of the mind of the living and alters them into something insidious within. Few other places in your plane of existence has so weak a veil between yours and ours.”


Clark blinked and lowered his head. To hear and scent and almost feel the suffering, it was enough to make him shudder and weep for the lost souls and those they’d harmed.

Bruce’s voice was a deep register, “I see. Once one has died, there are no second chances.”


“No,” the dragon responded and then lifted their tail and soared forward again toward their destination.


The lava from below bubbled. Aerisyn dodged as one of the bubbles burst and the drops of the molten liquid closed in on them. Missing them all by the edge of a whiskers width.


Clark felt beads of perspiration form on his brow and above his lips.

Bruce whispered against his ear, “We’ll get this, Clark.”


The way he said his name, in that dropped gravelly voice and drawing out the syllables had him feeling even hotter than from the lava alone. Maybe he was imagining things, but, perhaps Bruce felt something. Even if it was not what he hoped.


Aerisyn’s flightpath was interrupted when a giant hand reached from below. The dragon’s neck and tail were caught in a strong grip and with the now immobile dragon brought down from the skies so too were Batman and Superman.


Batman pulled out a batarang to use the sharp point against the hand that had Aerisyn’s neck in its grasp.


Blood oozed a sickly bubbly green from its vein, the scent rancid and telltale of death. Yet the gigantic being had form and was animated as if it were alive. But its color was too sallow and its lips bloodless as Clark turned his gaze over Aerisyn’s side to gaze down at the opaque eyes of their latest enemy.


Aerisyn tried with all their might to get away by flapping their wings as the undead giant’s grip loosened on the long graceful neck of the dragon. Clark felt cold air pierce the back of his suit. He turned his head to watch as Batman crawled toward the tail to use the batarang again against yet another hand.


The giant had recovered and lifted its hand back up to grasp Aerisyn again. Before the mighty undead could do so, Clark reached for it’s thumb. He placed both arms around it as if it were a vulnerable neck. The creature was already dead and even if it were not he had little qualm about breaking a finger, here, as it was not a life taken.


Exerting all the core strength he’d gained via working on the farm even while depowered he grunted and grit his teeth as he turned the tumb at the joint. Beads of perspiration broke out on his forehead, the bow of his mouth, the back of his neck. Then he heard the sickening crack of a bone breaking, loud and thunderous. But not as loud as the howl of the giant as it tore its hand away from him even as its green pus like blood was spilled by the batarang Batman had torn through the veins of its hand on Aerisyn’s tail.


Aerisyn shook off the shock and swept their tail in a high arc to escape the undead giants next attempt. In the process, he didn’t notice that the giant had managed to steal something from them. A single feather floated down and a bubble of lava popped. The feather charred, fell into the ocean of the molten liquid and was lost.


Aerisyn stopped mid flight only once they were away from any small islands that might hold one of the myriad enemies trying to keep them from their goal.


Aerisyn asked, “That was a close one, but it is not much further now. Kal-El, Clark Kent, Superman, that was your test. Without your aid, we all would have been lost and consumed. Without your mortal strength we would have been even now in the belly of the undead giant. A hero once and lost long ago to the ravages of this plane of existence.”


Clark shuddered to think that they’d have been eaten, and yet could not blame any creature for that possibility. Every living thing needed to eat something. Yet this was something undead and twisted. A reanimated giant that had fallen long ago back in the age when those like him had wandered the Earth, when dinosaurs roamed the lands and all manner of fairytale beasts may well have thrived until a mass extinction on a global scale. At least the planet had not blown up as his own home planet had. Now, if only the destruction and mass extinction could be prevented. Superman alone could only do so much. Even the Justice League, the Teen Titans, and Young Justice could accomplish so much, try as they might.


Clark sighed as he leaned over the neck of the dragon. “How far do we have to go?”


Bruce moved in behind Clark, for he felt the solid muscle and the warmth of the other man.

Clark closed his eyes and tried not to give away just how much his touch affected him, no matter how small. If he could just be held like this by Bruce and hold him in turn, but Bruce wasn’t a feelings kind of person. His acting skills were on par with some of the great’s that had crossed the screen in decades past and even now. Yet some today were not always the best choices for certain roles and getting into the acting career was ever more difficult. Nepotism seemed to be gaining more and more there.


The deep gravelly voice against his ear had a shiver run down his spine. “Clark? Are you feeling okay?”


He swallowed over the lump in his throat. “Y-yeah. I’m fine, B. It’s a good thing I did all that work on the farm.”


“So, all your strength doesn’t just come from the sun.”




“Hmm,” was the only response as Aerisyn continued once more. In a matter of minutes the dragon landed. 


When Clark hopped off he noticed the bruises on the dragon’s neck and the way Aerisyn’s tail looked a little too crooked.

“Aerisyn! You’re hurt.” He placed a hand just above the bruises to stroke the dragon.


Aerisyn lay on their belly, talons tucked beneath them. “I have had far worse injuries. Now, go save the warrior before they die. Here they are yet young and though the world has changed, they deserve a chance to be free of this place. Hurry, before they truly go mad here and cannot be saved.”


Clark looked to Batman and the cowl dipped in a nod. Clark stroked the dragon’s mane before following at Batman’s side. Their capes billowed behind them as the wind swept on by. Black and red brushed. Held. Fell again as the wind became a gentle breeze.


Before the pair of them stood an overgrown forest with thick vines and sharp thorns.


Clark was ill prepared. If he had come as Clark Kent the backpacker instead of as Superman, perhaps he would have had a small machete with him.


Batman pressed a button on his utility belt and pulled out a bat shaped knife. He flicked it open and cut through a little at a time. Clark wished he still had some of his powers that could help them. Instead he looked around and found the sharpest of the sticks laying around. It didn’t hack as well as Batman’s knife blade, but it still worked to open a path through the forest. It was so dark however that he couldn’t even see a inch in front of him.


“B?” He called out.

“I’m right here.”

Clark reached forward and felt the material of the cape slide between his fingers. Gripping it he didn’t let go and followed at Bruce’s back. He just hoped this wasn't another trick of the land. It was a magic imbued world after all.


Up ahead of them as Batman sliced through yet another group of thorny shrubs and vines, bioluminescent algae lit the path along the sides of stones.


Clark blinked as his eyes grew used to even that dim light after being in the dark shadows.


Batman’s gravelly voice returned Clark’s attention to him. “We’ve reached our destination.”


Clark nodded. Batman stared stared at him then down at where Clark still clung to his cape.

He felt his face heating up and uncurled his fingers, allowing the fabric to slip out of his grip. Clearing his throat he tread ahead toward the warrior, the hero of days long passed.


When the hero turned around, Clark came to a complete halt. His heart pounded a hard tattoo against his chest. His fingers trembled. He opened his mouth to speak and closed it.


This could not be.


Yet on the warrior’s chest was the crest of the House of El, with the rest of the man’s clothes torn and tattered with smears of blood dried upon the suit. The man’s hair black as coal, but missing the signature s-curl. But the eyes. The eyes were blue, though not quite as vibrant as his own.


Who was this?


Bruce came up beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder.


Clark blinked as the man stared at him. The Kryptonian, Clark was sure of it. By his facial structure so similar to his own. By the very fabric and crest he wore, as if some lifeline to a world long lost.


The warrior stared at Bruce and then his gaze flickered to Kal. The man’s lips parted as if he were about to say something before closing again.


Clark’s heart beat a heavy tattoo. If this was truly a Kryptonian warrior of ages long since passed, then he would be less alone than previous. He only had his cousin Kara Zor-El and his half-clone Kon-El. 


Bruce stepped in front of Clark and held him back. “Who are you?” The Bat growled out.


Clark wondered what the hell Batman thought he was doing. He didn’t need to be held back as if he were some damsel in distress. Of course, whenever Clark was depowered Bruce seemed to get ever more paranoid. Jumping into danger to keep Clark safe.


He should scold Batman for that, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to. Bruce cared. Clark just wished he cared more than as a friend and colleague.


The unknown Kryptonian warrior of times past ignored Batman and turned lazer focus on Clark. “You have the signature s-curl of the Van’s. Like Lor-Van and his ancestors, as well his descendants like Lara Lor-Van.”


Clark’s eyes widened. This man knew or had known one of his grandfather’s, had perhaps even met his mother.


“It could be a trick, Clark,” Batman stepped beside him and their shoulders brushed.


He nodded, but hoped it wasn’t a trick. Yet too many times had he, had they both been burnt by other Kryptonians. So many Clark had met had been on the path of villainy, either due to the arrogance of a bygone race, or it was their mortality irregardless of their own species. His people had led themselves to their own doom, killing the planet and nearly all of its inhabitants, refusing to listen or to allow its people to leave the planet.


“Let him speak, Bruce. Please?” He looked to his friend, the man in the cowl he longed for so keenly and yet couldn’t quite bring himself to confess. Not when previous relationships had sputtered out before they’d really had a chance to begin.


Bruce stood stock still, and Clark wondered if he even took a breath before giving the slightest nod. A motion he would otherwise not have been able to detect if he hadn’t known him for so many years now. Years of silent pining, of his heart sinking ever deeper into the quagmire of unrequited love for the Bat vigilante of Gotham.


His gaze returned to the unknown Kryptonian. “I am Kal… son of Jor…,” he did not give away the other part of the name. The crest of the House of El on his chest should have given him away.


The warrior with silver streaks in his hair on the sides of his head nodded. “You are an El,” he lifted a hand and pressed it against Clark’s chest where the crest sat.


Bruce lifted a hand and grasped the strangers wrist. “Do. Not. Touch. Him.”


Aerisyn huffed behind all of them, but did not speak. The dragon remained silent save for that.

The warrior frowned at the hand that held his wrist. “He has naught to fear from one as I.”


“You have as yet to tell us who you are.”


The stranger stepped back away from them. Bruce removed the hold he had on his wrist and stood so close to Clark that their shoulders pressed into each other.


“I am Seg-El.”


“So, you are of the House of El.”


He nodded and lowered his gaze to stare into the water. “I was trapped here by my own people who did not believe my predictions. I had hoped that my sons Jor-El and Zor-El would go on to save Krypton. But I know that it was lost, if you are here, Kal-El.”




“Our people were an advanced race. We knew better than to mess with time. But we did not know better than to mess with science. We trusted it far too much instead of nature. The people of Krypton, many would not listen. Many refused to believe our planet was on a collision course of doom. The council refused any to leave to colonize, believing those days long passed. More of us would have survived if not for the council's decree and growing xenophobia. It wasn’t always like that. Not until someone in the past couple of generations messed with the codex, altering the DNA of a multitude, of a generation of Kryptonians. All of it leading to our doom.”


“How do you know about that if you’ve been here all this time?” Bruce asked before Clark could parse the information overload.


Seg-El sighed. “Some of us were blessed with foresight. I was blessed with a machine that could let me see bits and pieces of the past and the future. Yet I could not prevent it. Some parts of a timeline are inevitable, much as we might wish it weren’t so. Like a game of Earth’s jenga, pull out the wrong piece, or pull out too many pieces it all collapses in on itself. I could look, but I could do naught. And in trying to do something, like Earth’s Cassandra I and my family were cursed to know the truth and yet have no one believe us.”


A small black and lich blue butterfly fluttered by. A trail of smoke behind it before it’s wings stilled and it whirled down.


Seg-El reached out, palm up and the butterfly landed in his palm.


“So fragile. Timelines are too fragile. Anyone who messes with them does the rest of the universe and its peoples a grave injustice.” He shook his head and then knelt to place the butterfly on a little leaf that the current of the river took downstream and away from view.


Clark blinked away the tears that felt as though they might fall. Unlike him, this man had known life on Krypton. And had suffered for it, knowing all he knew. A man who had lost not one son, but two. A man who had lost his entire world and before that his credibility among his fellow scientists. What a terrible burden to carry.


“You should come with us, Seg-El.”


“Kal-El, I am your grandfather.”


“I… haven’t known you long.”

“He hasn’t,” Bruce frowned at the warrior that had long been trapped in this magical land, where only during Samhain was the veil between worlds so thin.


Seg-El nodded. “I understand. I don’t know if I can come with you. I don’t have a feather to leave this place.”


Clark glanced at Bruce. “Did The Mórrígan mention how we were to all get out of here, including with the warrior we were here to save?”


Aerisyn lifted themselves up to their full height and leaned back on their haunches. “The answer to this you must find for yourselves.”


Clark reached into a hidden pocket of his cape and pulled out the corvid’s feather he’d been gifted at the start of this journey.


Batman frowned when he went to take out his feather. “It’s gone.”


“What?” He couldn’t believe that Bruce’s feather had been lost. Batman never lost anything. At least, not for long.

Batman’s frown deepened. “You’ll have to leave without me, Superman.”


Now he was calling him Superman. Even though Seg-El knew who he was. There was no way to hide oneself from another Kryptonian underneath a yellow sun. Was there?


“I… I can’t do that B.”


“You’ll have to. The world needs Superman.”

“And Gotham needs Batman.” The villains there were too crazy for Clark to deal with even with all the powers imbued in him by the yellow sun as Superman.


Seg-El, behind them, cleared his throat.


Clark and Bruce turned to gaze at him.


“You do not need the feather to leave this plane of existence. At least not the feathers you came in with.”


“And where would we get another feather? We see no birds here.”

“Not on this night anyway, when The Mórrígan walks with the living and her little pets follow. There is one of two paths before you. Consuming a dragon’s heart will allow you to enter and exit these lands at will.”


Clark could feel Bruce’s glare through the eye lights of his cowl directed at Seg-El and then at him.


“I refuse to kill Aerisyn.”


Clark gazed back at the dragon. “I cannot and will not harm the dragon that brought us this far.”


Seg-El nodded. “Then there is only one other course of action, but I would prefer not to witness it.”


“What?” Clark asked even as Batman’s brows furrowed underneath the cowl.




“I’m not a wizard,” Clark grumbled.


“Nor am I,” Bruce bit out.


“The spell is simple, as long as one of you has a feather. With this spell you’ll both be protected by the single feather and be able to pass through the magical barrier between these lands and that of the living, breathing mortals.”


“Right.” Bruce grunted and looked to Clark.


Clark held up the feather.

Seg-El directed them. “Now, you each must slice your palm and allow your blood to drop onto the feather.”


He winced as he heard that and watched the corners of Bruce’s mouth deepen. He saw him pull out a small switchblade knife and cut into his own palm, allowing blood to drip onto the dark feather as he curled said hand into a fist.


Bruce gently took hold of his wrist and Clark uncurled his fingers. “B…”


“It will sting, Clark, but it won't be for long. Promise.”

Clark closed his eyes and inwardly hissed when that blade sliced through the flesh of his palm. He peaked through one eye as his blood landed on the same feather as Bruce’s own blood.


The feather shook and seemed to grow. It turned a deep dark crimson with black tips.


“What… what about you, Seg-El?”


“I already have a feather.”


Bruce was quick to interrogate him. “And why couldn’t you leave here on your own?”


“I could not stop watching the river. If you look in you’ll be lost to the madness of the things you could not prevent. It will hypnotize you and force you to watch it again and again on repeat. For an eternity and beyond even that.”


Clark noticed Bruce’s shudder and the audible click and grind of his teeth.


Bruce took Clark’s wrist in his hand and tugged him back toward Aerisyn. Seg-El sat behind the pair of them, his arms on Batman’s shoulders.


Aerisyn took to the skies in a slow arc. Not only was the dragon’s tail injured and their neck sore, Seg-El was added weight.

The dragon took a different path back toward the place they had last seen The Mórrígan, going in a circle around where they knew a giant of the dead inhabited islands.


Seg-El commented as Aerisyn lost a bit of altitude and their claws near skimmed the ocean of lava. “We might not make it at this rate.”


Clark felt Bruce tense behind him. 


“I believe in Aerisyn.”


“It’s just a dragon, Bruce Wayne.”


That had Bruce’s body going stiff more than before. “Why the hell do you think I’m that pompous billionaire?”


Seg-El chuckled. “Remember. My visions of the future via science.”


Bruce grunted and tightened his hold around Clark’s chest.

Clark shook his head. “You can’t go around telling anyone, Seg-El.”


“I can keep a secret, as long as it is not one that would decimate an entire planet and all of its inhabitants.”


“We can live with that,” Batman stated and Clark nodded in agreement.


Aerisyn, hearing their encouragement picked up their wings faster and soared higher - away from the vast ocean of bubbling hot lava. Then, finally, after what felt like ages they landed on soft turf.


The Mórrígan stood there waiting for them with a crooked bloody smile. Their teeth sharp and a decapitated head laying at her feet.


Bruce growled, “What the fuck did you do?”


“They’ll be fine. It is their punishment for what they did while still alive. And if I had not bitten their head off they would now be out there, semi-tangible and able to harm the living and to take parents from their children, children from their parents. On Samhain it is so easy for them to break free of their chains, and some are strong enough to possess those of a more violent and depressed nature. Then using any tools and weapons at their disposal...”

“Stop. We get it.” Clark held up a hand.

Batman’s gaze narrowed. Clark thought he must be thinking of the night his own parents were lost and wondering if some spectre had escaped this plane of existence or another world similar to it. Yet it had not occurred under the skies of Samhain.


The Mórrígan nodded and gazed at Seg-El. “You are finally free, Seg-El. There is much for you to learn and to discover, for not even your visions gave you the whole picture.”


She stepped close to Clark and Bruce. She tugged on the material of their suits at their necks. Pulled them both down and gave each a quick and bloody kiss.


Bruce lifted his hand to wipe the smear of blood off his mouth, lips pursed tightly closed.


Clark placed a hand over his mouth and made a retching sound. The taste of the blood of the undead rancid on his tongue.


The Mórrígan clicked her fingers, “When you get back home, in the morning light a special surprise will be waiting for the both of you. And with this warrior freed, the dead have one less soul to feed on and make them stronger. They should not be able to break through the veil now.” She smirked at Batman and Superman before her attention returned to the long lost warrior.


“Stay out of trouble, Seg-El, and follow Kal-El and Batman’s examples. Live with either one, or both of them. Only then will you be able to move on and truly live once more.”


She snapped her fingers and all three of them were in the Batcave.


Alfred almost flinched when he saw them. But instead, blinked. “Have one of you gained the ability to teleport at will now, Master Bruce?”


Clark shook his head.

The corner of Bruce’s mouth almost curled upward. “No, Alfred. The Mórrígan sent us on a quest. Meet Seg-El, paternal grandfather of Kal-El.”


Alfred bowed. “A pleasure, I’m sure.”


Seg-El grinned. “What a handsome voice.”


Damian and the rest of the boys and girls entered the room to see what the commotion was about. The blood son glared at Seg-El and the way he was staring at Alfred. He pulled out his blade and declared, “You are not worthy of Alfred.”


Alfred stared at them with his usual stoicism before speaking. “I and your charges were about to leave the manor for trick or treat. Once they’ve gotten into costume.”


Seg-El blinked. “What is this trick or treat?”

“It would be better if we showed you, Mister El. Do join us. Having another responsible adult would be a great help.”


Dick laughed aloud, “Hey! Alfred I’m an adult.”

“I said a responsible adult, Master Richard.”


The others snickered.

Batman couldn’t keep the smile from forming.


Clark couldn’t help but stare at the smile as Alfred led the rest of the Batfamily, minus Batman, out of the batcave and topside to get ready for trick or treat.


Batman lifted his hands and pressed buttons in a certain pattern with a particular pressure allowing the cowl to break free of the rest of his costume.


Clark licked suddenly dry lips and then turned around to stare at the Batcomputer, reading the headlines.


The two stood there in awkward silence until Alfred rang through. “We have left, Master Bruce, so do be careful if you decide to go on patrol tonight.”

“Yes, Alfred.” Seconds later, the call came to an end.

Clark could barely believe that they were home. That all three of them were alive. It was all thanks to Bruce, because the man was tenacious and self-sacrificing. But Clark would not have allowed Bruce to stay in that world any more than Bruce allowed him to, especially when it was Bruce’s feather that had been lost during that feat with the undead giant.


What Clark had not expected after the lost warrior had bathed and fallen asleep was for Bruce to tell him to follow him. It wasn’t the Batcave nor the Manor’s den or library. None of those places. Instead he was led into the place Clark expected to be led to the least.


He blinked as he glanced from Bruce to the large bed.


“B-Br-Bruce?” He stuttered over the name. Why had Bruce brought him to this room? Had he given himself away? Was he about to be berated for the tumultuous feelings boiling just under the surface ready to froth over and spill onto the burner of the stove top?


“Clark,” Bruce’s voice, even now out of the cowl, remained gravelly. At least, out of the supersuit and back into ill fitting clothes his erection was less likely to be detected.


“Y-yes, B?”


Bruce took a step toward him. Clark’s heart sped up and his eyes widened a little more with each step the billionaire took toward him.


He felt like a deer in the headlights, unable to fight and unable to take flight even with his powers restored.


“Is there something you need to tell me?” Bruce stared at him, gaze intense, patient and waiting.


He wanted to superspeed out of there, and before he could, Bruce had lifted his hands and took hold of his head.


“Don’t run away, Clark.”


That was Bruce’s thing. Running away. From feelings. From love. From those he considered family. As if he thought he didn’t deserve them. As if he thought he’d fail them as he believed he’d failed his own parents and a boy who had one donned the robin suit now out there wearing a red full head helmet.


He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, trying to parse all he knew of this man. The look in his gaze vulnerable and yet harder than steel itself. Clark was supposed to be Superman, the man of steel, but sometimes, sometimes, Bruce… Batman… seemed to be made of sterner stuff than him.


Opening his eyes he let his breath out in a sigh and stared into the depths of Bruce’s gaze, into the soul of Batman. “Why are you doing this?” It would be better if Bruce didn’t suspect, if the man just let him down gently without trying to drag out a confession. Before him was the world’s greatest detective, or at least one among the greats.


“I need to know, Clark.” 


While his eyes had been closed, Bruce had moved in closer. Clark felt the warm breath against his lips. He bit into his bottom lip before just stating the truth. Better to let it out now and be disappointed than to let it fester and grow even more.


“I love you Bruce. I’m in love with you.” He felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes. One tear trailed down his cheek.


Bruce’s thumb brushed away the tear, and then the man leaned in further until their lips touched.


Clark’s entire body tensed and he forgot to breathe. 


Bruce’s body pressed into Clark’s. Clark’s eyes widened further as he felt the hardness of the billionaire’s cock through the material of their trousers.


Clark’s hands came up, trembling as he held onto Bruce’s shoulders while his knees gave way and he forgot he could fly. Just for a moment.


His mouth parted when the tip of Bruce’s tongue stroked against his lips.


Lashes fluttering to a close, his own tongue met Bruce’s as the tactician turned him around and pressed him to move backward.


Clark felt the edge of the bed against the back of his knees and allowed himself to fall back.


The sheets scrunched beneath their hands as they scrabbled up the bed where Clark rested his head against a pile of pillows.


Clark couldn’t believe this was happening. Bruce hadn’t said it back, so why? Surely he couldn’t be this cruel and just use him for a good fuck. The man never had been good with speaking his feelings, had he? Not since the loss when he was a child. Perhaps if he hadn’t witnessed it, he might not be quite so unwilling to speak of how he felt. But he knew Bruce spoke better with his actions than with his words.


Bruce’s tongue tangled with Clark’s. Their tongues stroked against each other, twisted and danced, licking into each other's mouths. Which created a bridge of saliva as their kiss broke.


The saliva dripped onto Clark’s mouth and dribbled down his chin.


Bruce leaned down and whispered against Clark’s ear, in his Batman register, “I want to be inside you, Clark. Let Daddy reward you for being such a good boy.”


Oh fuck!  


“Do you want that?” Bruce’s large calloused hands found their way beneath Clark’s shirt. Each one stroking along his naval and up.


“Breathe, son,” Bruce growled out.


“Yes, Daddy,” he managed, though his face felt so very hot and his cock hard as titanium.


Bruce’s lips curled into a smug smile.


Their mouths met again in a torrential kiss as they reached for each other's buttons and zippers. Buttons flew, clothes tore and were tossed aside until both of them were down to their birthday suits.


“Stay, Clark. Do not move, son,” he took hold of Clark’s wrists and placed them over his head.


Clark blinked, “B?” Only for Bruce to lift him up and turn him onto his stomach.


The man behind him placed a pillow under Clark’s chest. “Ass in the air, boy.”


Bruce held his chest down against the bed while he tucked his knees underneath him. 


“No speaking, boy, unless it's to beg Daddy.”


Had Bruce always had this kink? How long had he been wanting to do this to him?


“After this, you’ll belong only to Daddy, baby boy. Understand?” Bruce asked as he gripped each of Clark’s ass cheeks in his hands.


“Y-yes, Daddy.” How could he get even harder? He hadn’t thought it was possible, but his cock ached and he hadn’t gotten a chance to get a good look at Bruce’s. Not even with x-ray vision, or stealing a peak in the communal showers of the Watchtower.


He tried to lift his head up and look over his shoulder, but Bruce used one strong hand to grip the back of his neck.


Clark shuddered and moaned at the touch. His cock twitched as Bruce shoved his head back down into the pillows.

“Be a good boy, son, and keep still. I’m not afraid to crack out the kryptonite and make you bleed.”


A strangled sound escaped Clark, but a deep rumble emerged as Bruce’s hand caressed the back of his neck.


His body shook with need as Bruce’s tongue touched the back of his neck and Clark felt his cock against his ass. How the fuck big was Bruce? Would he fit? At least Clark didn’t have to worry about pain. Not as long as Bruce didn’t give into his threat of bringing out said kryptonite.


Clark gripped the sheets and cried out as that tongue slowly moved down his back. Over each flesh covered bump of bone.


He cried out as Bruce’s tongue reached the cleft of his ass and the man's hands moved to knead his asscheeks.


“Such a good boy,” Bruce’s whisper vibrated against Clark’s hole. The heat of his breath caused Clark to whimper as he bit into the corner of the pillow and his fingers gripped the sheets all the tighter.


His body jolted forward when that wicked, wicked tongue flicked against his hole. 


“Daddy told you to stay still,” Bruce growled out and gripped him by the hips, bringing him back to be impaled in the ass by that tongue.


One hand left Clark and he heard the snick of a cap opening. Then the cold gel and calloused finger against his opening as Bruce removed his tongue.


Clark needed something. He couldn’t help rocking back against the lube slicked finger that Bruce pressed against him. Into him.


The man of steel didn’t feel like steel. No, instead he felt more vulnerable than he ever had, even whilst depowered due to magic. He hoped against all hope that this wasn’t some trick of his mind. That it all hadn’t been a dream derived of long suffering unrequited feelings. And that if this were real and truly happening, that Bruce cared. No! He wanted him to more than care. The very thought that Bruce was only doing this to appease him left a cold emptiness in his chest. A frozen wasteland that crept from the center outward, cooling his ardour. 


Tears rolled down his face even as he squeezed his eyes shut. Bruce added a second finger and thrust those slicked fingers in and out of Clark’s ass.


“That’s it baby boy, rock those hips for Daddy,” Bruce whispered against Clark’s back. Soft firm lips pressed kiss after kiss along his back while Bruce’s second hand caressed the back of Clark’s neck.


Those calloused fingers brushed roughly against a spot within Clark that had him gasp aloud. A rumbling moan, almost like a purr escaped him. “B-Bruce,” he cried out his name. “P-please!?”

He’d nearly come just from that rough touch against a spot that no one else had ever gained access to. The pleasure had spiked and jolted through his entire body. Setting off all synapses and dendrites. The shiver that had gone through him stirred all of his erogenous zones at once. Even his nipples ached and his muscles quavered.


“Daddy’s going to make you feel so good Clark. Going to breed you like a bitch in heat just begging for it.” With each word Bruce’s voice lowered and grew more rough, until it was nothing but a growl.


Clark bit into his lower lip as his hips rocked back onto Bruce’s fingers. So hard that he broke through pink flesh and a couple beads of crimson slipped down his lip to his chin.


After a third finger, Bruce pulled his fingers out of him and Clark whimpered. “B!”


“What does Daddy’s good boy want?”


“H-he wants Daddy’s cock. Please B… please Daddy fuck me like a bitch.”


Bruce groaned as he took hold of Clark’s hips in a firm grip. So tight he might have left bruises if not for Clark’s Kryptonian biology underneath the yellow sun.


His fingers curled into the sheets, his teeth tore into the pillow. Each article gained small tears from the rough treatment as the head of Bruce’s cock pushed into Clark. Followed by a fast, hard forward thrust.


Clark’s mouth opened wide and his eyes rolled back, lashes fluttering as Bruce sank deep inside him.


Bruce bent over him, chin against Clark’s back. The stubble, rough. Clark could feel each individual short whisker scrape against him with each of Bruce’s deeper, faster, harder thrusts as he fucked into him.


Clark’s nipples scraped against the silk sheets as the billionaire playboy that moonlighted as The Batman roughly took him.


He felt teeth sink light into his flesh. It would have been so much better if they’d done this while he’d been fully depowered, but none of them had wanted to get stuck in that otherworld. Not when this one needed them both.


Soon his thoughts were washed away to be filled only by pleasure and the sounds of their moans, grunts, and groans of pleasure and physical exertion.


Clark cried out each time Bruce’s cockhead slammed against that spot inside him. His entire body trembled whenever a ridge along Bruce’s long hard thick phallus brushed forward and back against that spot and others.


He learned new things about his own biology with every movement. While there was that one spot, his prostate gland that turned his entire body into one erogenous zone, the walls within where Bruce’s cock thrust was made up of smaller similar spots. There was not one inch that didn’t bring him pleasure, that didn’t act like another small erogenous zone that sent him closer and closer to flying over the edge.


Bruce growled again, “What the fuck, Clark, what are you doing!?”


He didn’t know what he was doing, other than letting Bruce pound in him. Letting the man’s cock sink deeper and deeper until his balls smacked against Clark’s ass again and again. Until he forgot to even breath until Bruce grabbed hold of his hair and growled against his ear, “ Breathe, son .”


“I… I don’t know.”


“Feels like something inside you is caressing every millimeter of my cock. Something small, but everywhere.”


Clark groaned as Bruce pulled all but the head of his cock out, only to slam back in, balls deep.


“I… I don’t know!” And he didn’t. This was new to him. He’d never bottomed for anyone, till now. Hadn’t asked the Kryptonian servors, or the Jor-El AI in the Fortress of Solitude about how his biology might differ. Everything about himself had seemed so human and he’d been in part afraid to even ask the hard questions.


“You’re ruining Daddy for anyone else, baby boy.”


He cringed inwardly at the idea of Bruce being with anyone after this.

“Going to mark you and make you fucking mine, Clark. Even if I have to pull out the kryptonite and keep you caged.”


Clark shuddered. He should have been more afraid of those words, even in jest, but it just made him all the harder. 


“Oh Rao, Bruce.”


“You’re mine, Clark. Mine!”


He cried out. “Yes. Yours. ” There was no way he could deny it. Not with how he felt about Bruce. Be he Bruce, Bruce Wayne, or Batman, or even his other various alter egos he used to infiltrate different crime rings.


“Does Daddy’s good boy want to cum?” One of Bruce’s calloused hands snaked around him to grip hold of Clark’s cock.


He cried, moisture clinging to his cheeks as a couple more tears rolled free form the corner of his eyes, from pleasure, from worry that this was just all a game to Bruce, “Yes. Please Daddy!

Bruce’s rough hand stroked Clark’s cock as he thrust as deep and as hard into his ass as he humanly could.


The headboard of the bed hit against the wall. Clark worried it might soon break, but then Bruce aimed at that spot inside Clark that he’d discovered. Sending Clark over the precipice.


Clark’s whole body tensed and shook as spurt after spurt of come burst from his cock and soaked the sheets underneath him. The white substance dribbled down his thighs, splattered onto his chest.


He felt Bruce continuing to thrust into him for a while after before a gush of heated fluid splashed deep inside him.


Clark trembled, ass still in the air as Bruce pulled out and collapsed to the side of him, head hitting a pillow.


“Don’t move, Clark,” Bruce gave a warning growl. Then his fingers brushed through Clark’s hair as Bruce’s cum dribbled down the crack of Clark’s ass, onto his balls and down the back of his thighs.


“You are different, Clark.”




“Even if I didn’t love you, I think you would have ruined me just then for anyone else, sexually speaking.”


He was about to open his mouth and complain. His mouth did open to scold Bruce. Then he blinked. Had he heard what he just had?


“Did… did you say… you love me?”


Bruce pulled his hand away and frowned. He didn’t meet Clark’s gaze when Clark turned his head just enough to try and lock eyes with him. “Was I mistaken? About your feelings?”


Clark blinked. Moved one hand to grasp hold of Bruce’s chin and forced him to look at him. “Do you think I’d bottom for just anyone, B? I just… I can’t believe you said it. First.”


Bruce’s brows furrowed.


Clark moved in for a kiss. Brushed his lips over Bruce’s and then whispered, “I have been in love with you so long now, Bruce, and even before that I loved you.”




Clark chuckled.


Something caught his attention, a light in his peripherals.


He turned his head and Bruce seeing Clark’s eyes widened turned to gaze at what he saw.


The feather that Bruce had kept as a souvenir and had as yet to place in a glass jar in the Batcave glowed.


The feather went from a small almost weightless dark crimson feather to a large oval shape. A dark gray egg with tiny blue speckles. With a black bat silhouette and a golden shape like the crest of the House of El.


The Mórrígan, like an opaque spectre appeared behind the egg as it was gently sat down upon the clothing that the two had shed. “A gift for you both. You kept the veil from breaking and saved a warrior in the process. As your love grows so too will the lifeform inside the egg. Keep it safe and on the next Samhain night your young will break free of the shell.”


And she was gone just as quick as she had appeared.


Bruce stared at the egg.


Clark sat up on his knees. “I guess we’d better shower quickly and start taking care of the egg. Keeping it warm for one.”


Bruce nodded and allowed Clark to lead him to the bathroom. Then found a clean blanket to wrap the egg in.


It had been one bizarre hour after another, but now they were together and about to start a new adventure together. 


“Alfred will be pleased.” Bruce stated.


Clark nodded. “We’ll never hear the end of this from the kids.”




They smiled at each other as Clark cradled the egg.


Life was good. Both had gotten more than either had bargained for.


Maybe, just maybe, magic wasn’t always so bad. Sometimes.


The Mórrígan grinned as she watched from outside the manor window. Where she transformed into a crow and joined the flock of corvids, crows and ravens both, with a blue jay here and there.


With a caw she took flight to the darkening sky. Perhaps she would visit her daughter beneath the soils of the city, Lady Gotham herself. Perhaps she’d brag a bit that she had managed to get Batman and Superman together where she had as yet to manage it. And now, come Samhain next they would have one new descendant to add to their small family, perhaps the magic would not skip yet a thirteenth generation since the last mage of the Wayne family. Only time would tell and the city would have its guardian line continue forward into the next generation.