He, Lex, and Bruce had come to the decision that Clark Kent would live -- mostly -- in Metropolis back in the days when it was tiring for Clark to fly more than a few hundred miles at a time at his top speed. There were just too many alien invasions and powerful metahuman criminals converging on the country's wealthiest city for it to be practical to do otherwise.

He's strong and getting stronger *now* -- but Metropolis is still where he must keep his focus.

He has friends here, of course, and it's that much closer to his parents' home, and there's Lois --

Beautiful, *sharp* Lois, and it may be wrong for him to hope that she doesn't have the opportunity to spend *significant* amounts of time with Lex and Bruce until Clark has managed to find a way to press his *suit*, but that's the way it is.

She'd probably *like* Lex, and Bruce --

Well, *everyone* likes Bruce. Nobody can help it. He's smart and funny and charming and *warm*, and everyone *should* like him. Lex is all of those things, too, *and* being with him is like trying to learn how to do some complicated dance on the edge of a razor.

Lois and Lex would almost certainly take one good look at each other and see *challenges* they'd like to meet, and --

And, in truth, he's had enough of being 'the other one.' Bruce has always been open for him, giving and *open*, and today Lex had shown Clark --

Had given Clark a taste and promised *more* --

That's enough to blush for, to reflexively fly higher over Metropolis just to make *sure* no one can see --

He's gotten a taste.

And now he's going to need it -- or things *like* it -- all the time. He'd never thought Lex would *ever* touch him. He'd *known* Lex wouldn't, and had known it for long enough that the guilt for all of his fantasies about it had faded to nearly nothing.

Lex --

Lex is beautiful and sleek, skilled and so *dominant* --

And, with Tim right there at *last*, Lex had been able to look beyond his decade of obsession to see what had always been there for him.

Clark flies at speed through the lowering cloud cover until his uniform is clinging to him with damp chill and his hair is flat to his skull. As usual, it does nothing about his burgeoning erection, but sometimes it's the thought that counts. He's not going to be able to live with only fantasies, anymore. He --

He doesn't think he'll *have* to, per se, but --

He knows he'll fight if he has to, beg if he has to, *demand* if he has to. He knows the scent of Lex when he desires Clark. He knows the particular tensions, the needs which drive Lex --

He knows he can *fit* within --

Is it wrong to be feeling this... belligerent about it? It was Lex's prerogative to turn Clark down all those years ago -- for whatever reasons he had -- just as it was Clark's prerogative to never try again with anything but the most ambiguous language and gestures. It was Bruce's prerogative to allow himself to focus on the boy who *taught* him the ways of love even in that boy's absence -- just as it was Clark's prerogative to never try very hard to push him away from those obsessions.

And now... well. Clark has accepted much for the two men he loves most in the world, and now he's accepted those men playing with the space-time continuum, altering coordinates and timelines and events, shifting the memories of every Tim who moves through *this* temporal 'neighborhood,' changing *lives* --

All for love.

All -- for love.

There is within Clark a definite drive in the direction of 'if *they* can do it, then so can I,' but Clark recognizes when he's being *obvious* about the three years they have on him.

No.

While he may or may not have the *right* to be belligerent about his need for them (and for time with the boy, the one they'll inevitably find who *will* stay), he doesn't *have* to be.

He can be firm and clear without being combative. He can be open without falling into his worst fears about becoming too grasping. He can be...

He can be the man they both helped teach him to be.

And that thought --

Having that thought *now* --

It's only natural that he would fly almost *automatically* for the LuthorCorp tower. He *always* checks, because while that evil, *evil* man always lines his holdings with lead --

While he soundproofs all of his offices and meeting rooms as a matter of course --

Clark is stronger than he used to be.

And Lionel Luthor is vain enough to still have windows.

Right now, he's on the phone with his lieutenant -- a man Clark is sure is Luthor's primary employee for assassinations and torture --

If he only had *proof* --

"-- everything in place, Mr. Orr?"

"Yes, Mr. Luthor. Did you have specific requests for the expected obstacles?"

People. People protecting someone or something else?

He knows Orr's heartbeat. He --

Clark listens for it while keeping a fraction of his attention on the actual conversation --

"-- fancy, Mr. Orr. I trust to your professionalism."

"I appreciate that, sir --"

"Don't appreciate. Simply do what you're paid to do and all will continue to be well."

Lex *looks* almost nothing like his father, save for their height and basic body type. Their voices, though --

The things they *say* --

"It's only..."

"What is it, Mr. Orr?"

"I'm not -- there's a chance that some of the obstacles might not be... fully-formed."

Silence, and Clark uses it to narrow down his search. Orr is *somewhere* in New Jersey, but --

There.

As the silence stretches, his heart begins to pound --

And Clark will now be able to track him with ease, but -- what's making him so agitated? The man is nearly as cold-blooded as Luthor himself --

"I see. And this is a problem for you."

"Mr. Luthor --"

"Obstacles... are obstacles. Plain and simple. You were not hired to impress me with your hidden depths, Mr. Orr. Get the job done -- and if I catch even one *whiff* of a sign that you held back when pushing forward was the thing to do --"

"Sir, I won't --"

"You just interrupted me, Mr. Orr. That added to your pathetic squeak of a conscience has brought you up to two strikes. Would you care to try for three?"

Orr swallows. "No, sir. There won't be any problems on this end."

"Good. Luthor out."

Luthor hangs up the phone then, and Clark --

Normally he'd take this information *directly* to Bruce and Lex, and then to the Justice Society so that everyone could work together to neutralize the threat as soon as it appeared in something other than whispered codes. But --

But.

It just isn't that difficult to figure *this* code out. Obstacles, when it comes to Orr and Luthor, are *people*. People who stand in the way of their *always* evil goals.

Obstacles which aren't fully-formed are thus --

Clark swallows.

He can hear Orr starting to gather his things --

No time.

Clark flies to Orr as fast as he can, rattling the 'be ready for pending important information' code into his communicator at a speed just slow enough to translate. Both Lex and Bruce have implants which will allow them to pick that message up in seconds, and Lex is still working to find a way to give Clark one of his own.

He's *also* working on communicators with longer effective ranges, and that --

Children.

Children.

What could Luthor be doing to put children at enough risk that Orr would even *begin* to balk?

If he were as intuitive as Bruce, he might already know, but there are ways --

He's *going* to know.

And that's the thought he holds on to as he follows Orr's heartbeat to Hoboken --

To the heart of that city's little Italy --

The window's open -- no. He forces himself to pause and scan the building. No lead shielding. No kryptonite. No troop of heavily-armed goons --

Three different families.

Clark flies in through the window, grabs Orr, speeds them over the Atlantic and divests the man of all his weapons.

When he's done, Orr has stopped blinking. He's staring at Clark with a mask of cold fury, but --

"I can smell your fear, Orr. The scent is distinctive across humanity."

Orr snorts. "Good opening. Designed to put my back up *and* make me think about all your ridiculous fucking powers -- yeah, you're gettin' better at this, Supes. Congrats."

And this... is not unexpected. Clark nods to himself, flies them higher, and then drops Orr.

The scream doesn't come.

The man's heartbeat doesn't speed *enough* --

Clark lets Orr get to within ten feet of his death before saving him, and this time he flies the man high enough that he won't be able to breathe comfortably.

Orr responds by pulling out a pack of cigarettes.

His hands aren't shaking.

The scent of his fear is *milder* --

"Not to tell you your business, but you're really overusing *that* trick, Supes."

"If I'd waited zero point nine seconds longer --"

"But you wouldn't have. Everyone knows that," Orr says, and takes a drag of his cigarette.

Clark nods and causes the thing to burn to ash and something very much like plastic *slag* when it comes to the filter. The scent is --

Orr coughs -- "See, I'm thinking that smell is worse for you than it is for me."

Clark narrows his eyes.

"Let's face it, Supes. There's nothing *you* can do to get me to talk."

Bruce could. Bruce --

Clark has *watched* --

He can do *this* more safely than Bruce could. "You're absolutely correct, Orr. Thank you."

Orr laughs. "You're wel--" The sound of his shriek frightens a handful of gulls who had flown out this far to feast on the pickings from a mysterious -- and disturbing -- die-off of local fish. Clark can hear them squawk and startle.

And -- he had not injured Orr's testicles. They'll be swollen for the better part of a week, but --

Orr coughs -- "You -- what did --"

"You're probably used to repeated blows being needed to cause that much pain."

Another cough, and the smell of the man's *pain* is rising dramatically.

Clark isn't sure how long it will take before the pain reaches a plateau -- yet another lesson to ask for from Bruce. "Will you tell me?"

"Fuck, no!"

Clark nods and examines Orr's side through his clothes -- no, he has to be careful. He strips Orr of his light jacket and lets it fall to the ocean. He'll collect it later. With only the t-shirt, it's easy to be sure how much pressure will be needed --

"*Hunh* --!"

Clark shifts his grip and breaks Orr's right lowest rib, as well. And the one above it --

Orr's scream is piercing enough to make the gulls startle again --

But not as many do, this time. Nature is always adaptable, given time. He should strive to be the same way. "Orr. Focus."

"You -- you. Heh. You're not worried about accidentally piercing my lungs -- or sterilizing me for the rest of my life, for that matter. You *can't* make mistakes like that."

"Are you saying that more terrible pain won't make you talk?"

"Heh. Heh heh. Some of us -- some of us live for a better tomorrow, Supes. With you, that's always gonna be possible."

"And it wouldn't be with Lionel Luthor," Clark says, and nods.

It's a terrible dilemma. If he tried this sort of thing *with* Luthor --

Oh, he *hates* the way justice has layers and levels, *ways* of being applied which *can't* be used against certain others whose power is strongest, most deeply *entrenched*.

Superman is powerful and popular... but Lionel Luthor owns a media empire to go with his *other* empires. Lex hasn't let Clark so much as break the man's *nose* -- and he was right. He --

Orr sighs -- and groans. "Hey, Supes?"

"Yes, I'm listening."

"Look at it this way -- you've *delayed* me getting anything done, you know? I mean, I can tell you didn't just crack those ribs. I'll need actual bed-rest. And this -- you can use it, you know? Most people are too short-sighted to look past serious pain."

Orr is... consoling him. Honestly, even. Offering *advice* --

Orr doesn't want to do what Luthor had tasked him to do.

Orr -- he's smiling ruefully.

Clark swallows again and nods slowly.

"Sometimes -- sometimes delay is all you can hope for. You bet your ass Batman knows that. Delay... it means you get time to figure out moves and countermoves. Now what could I do to make you set me down near a decent hospital?"

"How would you feel about me picking one in Bangalore?"

Orr smiles. "I always did like to travel."

Clark nods again -- stops. Delay.

Delay.

He could --

"Oh, that looks like you just had an idea. I... why don't you run it past me? We'll see --"

Clark shakes his head. "I'm going to delay you further, Orr."

Orr blinks --

The scent of fear begins to rise again --

It is and isn't satisfying, which Clark takes to mean that he still has a few steps to go before he's as dangerous as he can be. Danger can be problematic, but --

But --

There's nothing truly wrong about this. There will be no pain, and there'll certainly be no murder. Of course, he has to do the same with Luthor...

Hm.

"Luthor's cameras still aren't fast enough to catch me."

"Uh. You already know they aren't."

"No, I know. I was just musing aloud."

Orr licks his lips and swallows. "Look, if you're going after Luthor himself, it has to be permanent. If he gets out --"

"He won't."

Orr blinks and licks his lips again. "Did I just talk you into murder, Superman? Because I'd like you to know that wasn't my intention."

"You're a very amusing man when you're not murdering people, Mr. Orr. It's a shame that your life is over."

Fear --

Clark nods once. "I'm still not going to kill you -- or Luthor -- however. There are other ways. Come," Clark says, and wraps Orr in his cape.

It's the blanket his biological parents had sent him to Earth in, and, as such, it stands up to a great *deal* of punishment. Such as flying at one's top speed to Antarctica.

When he's two hundred miles out, he tells the AI to prepare two large stasis boxes. This involves growing them from the 'seeds' his biological parents had included in the ship, and so it's not done once he's there.

Clark knocks Orr out and waits impatiently --

<<Kal-El. This one would know the purpose of this act.>>

<<The removal of pests, monitor-servant.>>

<<Pests of inferior species may simply be destroyed.>>

Bruce's eyes.

*Lex's* eyes --

<<I am afraid that this is not so. Not for these pests. It remains important for me to develop a benign reputation among the people of this planet.>>

<<This one is confused. Nearly all of the data collected suggests that this is a species which does not coddle its pests.>>

Clark smiles wryly and thinks of the way it had felt to have everything he'd learned about peace, equality, and even civil *rights* mocked mercilessly -- well. There are ways to speak to the AI. <<It is necessary to rise above this people. To be seen as having done so.>>

<<This one is considering your words. This one wishes to know if this protocol includes what you have described as 'politics.'>>

Well... <<Yes, monitor-servant, it does. Appearances are as important to this species as truth. More important, in some ways.>>

<<This one believes that it understands. Do you wish these pests to be able to communicate mentally?>>

<<No. They are to be kept silent and sunk deep within their consciousnesses. They are not to be addressed at any time in any way. They are... charming.>>

<<As you say, Kal-El. The stasis boxes are now prepared. Will you be returning with the other pest soon?>>

<<Yes, monitor-servant. How many of these boxes will you be able to prepare before you require more base materials?>>

<<Calculating. Seven thousand six hundred and eight. More if there are human young.>>

*Children* -- no. No. <<Noted, monitor-servant. Your service is appreciated.>>

<<This one is made whole in your praise, Kal-El. This one awaits further instruction.>>

<<There is none at this time,>> Clark says, placing Orr within the box and watching the Fortress swallow it. He flies, pushing himself up and up to the exosphere to recharge, stripping himself nude so that he can soak up the solar radiation *faster* --

*This* always feels dangerous --

*This* makes him aware of his alien nature --

Another ten minutes --

Another five and he feels aroused, bright, powerful, hot, *terrible* --

Another five and he can't pull the manic smile from his features --

Why didn't he think of this *before*?

He dresses himself and flies.

Once he's over Metropolis, he forces himself to shove aside the desire to burst through Luthor's window and take him that way. He waits for the revolving door to be empty and pushes through at speed.

He runs too fast to be seen around the edges of the lobby until one of the elevators opens --

He flies up through the access panel and closes it behind him --

Up and up and up, and Clark Kent has examined these elevator shafts before, but it's always prudent to --

Ah, more traps.

He forces himself to work around them rather than disabling them faster and more handily than anyone *else* could.

He triggers the doors to open on the penthouse --

And then he doesn't wait. He flies to Luthor, taps the back of his head just *so*, and flies them out through the roof access door. The *amount* of kryptonite dust is sickening, *weakening* --

He will not waver.

He hangs on until he can close the door behind himself --

Until he can fly high enough to wash the dust away in a *cloud* --

And, when he checks, the cancers growing in Luthor's body are incrementally larger than they were when Clark had checked a month ago. He doesn't know when he'll let Luthor out --

(When it's safe. Only then.)

-- but perhaps it will be when those cancers are more treatable than they are now. That's --

Why, that's positively --

Well, no, it *isn't* really possible to put a positive spin on what he's doing. It's imprisonment without limits or rights. It's -- he's appointed himself judge and jury.

Bruce and Lex might be *angry* with him, but --

*Children*.

He's taking away a threat, and the stasis boxes are designed to last even if the Fortress itself is destroyed.

No one but them will *know* about them, and --

And, maybe, Bruce and Lex won't have to surround themselves with *soldiers* all the time.

Clark nods to himself, wraps Luthor up more tightly, and flies.

Once the AI has swallowed the man, Clark returns to the Northern hemisphere --

And his communicator starts beeping. They really *do* need ones with better range. He taps it. "Superman here."

"Do you have news about the earlier emergency yet," and Bruce's voice is only Batman's if you can't listen for *nuances*. Bruce is worried.

"The threat is neutralized. I'm coming in," Clark says in his most clear and calm and Super voice.

"Noted. Batman, out," and Bruce sounds relieved --

How long will that last?

Could he just *not* tell them what he's -- no, that wouldn't work, at all. They have to know, and he has to... to deal with their objections. That's all there is to it.

He doesn't even let himself fly slower. He -- he's bigger than that.

Clark picks up speed over Gotham to avoid being caught by any cameras -- he'd learned *that* lesson -- and flies directly into the Cave.

Bruce is suited up by the computers, Lex is pacing a few feet away, and there's a young *girl* in workout clothes. What --

Oh.

*Oh*. She --

"Clark," Bruce says, and smiles wryly, "meet *Jessica* Drake."

Clark blinks rapidly -- and flies over to offer her his hand. "Miss Drake, it's a pleasure to meet you." How had that *happened*?

"The pleasure is mine. Please, call me Jessica."

Clark smiles, breathes deeply -- and then has to force himself not to *sway*. Her scent is --

The *amount* of sex which would've had to have happened --

He can smell -- mild pain, as well. Had she been a virgin?

"Ah... Clark? Are you all right?"

Lex breathes a laugh. "Don't worry, Jess -- he just breathed you in."

"Oh. Oh, my --"

"It's! It's a wonderful scent. A very... pleasured scent?"

Jessica blushes. "Yes? I... well. Surely it's not so different than what you remember from... ah... earlier?"

Clark breathes deeply... "Certainly, there are similarities --" The scent of Bruce's pleasure is strong, though, and that --

There are parts of him which will always live for that scent, for the knowledge that Bruce was that pleasured *somehow*, *somewhere* -- even if it wasn't due to him.

From the first time he *saw* Bruce --

And Jessica is raising an eyebrow at him, which is very --

"Ah -- I apologize, Jessica. Those scents are... compelling."

She hums. "I believe I can understand that."

"I'm so *very* glad to hear that," Lex says, and cups the back of Jessica's neck --

Jessica closes her eyes for a moment --

Perhaps all Tims -- of all sorts -- should be moved for that sort of touch. Clark cups Jessica's hand in both of his own. "I look forward to learning more about you, Jessica."

"Then I suppose I'll have to look forward to... talking? That doesn't seem quite --"

"It does," Lex says, and kisses Jessica's forehead lightly. "Learn to live with the fact that we want absolutely everything about you."

She hums again. "You're tempting me toward a certain degree of *mystery*, Lex."

"Princess --"

"No."

"Darling --"

"Maybe."

*Bruce* hums. "While this is pleasurable in and of itself...?"

Clark blinks and lets go of Jessica's hand. "I overheard Lionel Luthor --" He never, ever refers to the man as Lex's father when he's here -- "and Seamus Orr discussing... something. The code was rudimentary. They spoke of treating 'obstacles' in the usual way, and then Orr mentioned that some of the obstacles for the mission in question might not be 'fully-formed.'"

Bruce grunts.

Lex steps away from Jessica and begins to pace again.

"Yes. I see that you both... ah. Anyway. I tracked Orr's heartbeat to Hoboken --"

"That close," Lex says, and shakes his head hard. "Ignore me; what else."

Clark nods. "I attempted to interrogate the man --"

"A difficult subject, to be sure," Bruce says, and obviously begins to consider it. "What methods...?"

"I dropped him from a great height... and then I bruised his testicles and broke three of his ribs."

Silence.

"I -- ah. Did it carefully --"

"You decided to use my methods, Clark...?"

Clark smiles ruefully. "Yes, Bruce. It still didn't work. Orr was... he mocked me *gently*, and chose to give me *advice* about my methods."

A longer silence --

Clark clears his throat. "Ah... in any event, he remained more frightened of Luthor than he was of me... and then it became clear that he was giving me advice for a reason. It... I believe that he wanted me to find a way to break him, and when it became clear that I couldn't, he *consoled* me."

Bruce, Lex, *and* Jessica are staring at him curiously -- yes. Yes.

"He told me that I had managed to delay the plan due to the time needed for Orr to recover... and I had an idea. Delay, is, of course, a *useful* tactic much of the time --"

"Clark," Bruce says, and his voice is *worried*, again -- "What did you do?"

Of course he would know, would *guess* -- "Ah... stasis boxes."

Bruce blinks.

Clark can *hear* Lex and Jessica doing the same --

"You put Seamus Orr in stasis. In -- you took him to the *Fortress*?" Lex sounds more *incredulous* than worried --

Clark turns to him. "Yes. I knocked him out first and had the AI remove his ability to communicate with it --"

"Clark --"

"Not -- not *surgically*, Bruce, or -- anything like that. It's a technology which was in use on Krypton for the better part of a thousand years -- during their attempts at empire building. Astronauts used it to travel long distances at sub-light speed --"

"*Clark*," Lex says and *grips* Clark's shoulders. "What happens when he gets *out*?"

"He *won't*, Lex. And -- neither will Lionel Luthor."

Lex blinks again. "You -- to *Lionel*?"

"Yes. It -- he would've just sought out and made use of another Orr -- and this one might not have scrupled at hurting a child. This way, he has no chance to enact his latest plans --"

"Or make new ones. I." Lex licks his lips and steps back --

Scrubs a hand over his *scalp* --

Clark reaches out --

"No," Lex says, sharp and hard, holding up a hand --

"Clark, you can't do this," Bruce says, and *his* voice is gentle, but --

"Yes, he *can*, Bruce. That's -- that's the *point*," and Lex paces in arcs and loops, clenching and unclenching his fists --

Bruce frowns deeply -- "Clark, you -- please tell me you understand --"

"It's -- it's unlawful imprisonment. It's -- immoral."

Lex laughs sharply -- "It's incredibly fucking *convenient* is what it is. How many of those stasis boxes do you *have*?"

Mania in Lex is always -- compelling, yes, but also worrying -- "Only the two. However, the Fortress has the capacity to produce over seven thousand. They -- ah. They have to be individually grown --"

"You planned this."

"It really did just come to me -- well. The AI can grow them *quickly*."

Lex nods slowly and thoughtfully, but his eyes are bright and wild with conflict and -- he doesn't know what else --

And Bruce rests a hand on Clark's shoulder. "Clark if we do this... if we *allow* this --"

"Then -- in some ways -- we're no better. Yes, I know, Bruce, but I think --" Clark licks his lips and pats Bruce's hand lightly. "There is no utility in having the moral high ground if we're leaving others to drown. Ah... such as it is."

"Clark --"

"*Think*, Bruce," Lex says, and stops pacing to jab at the air. "This is something -- this will save *lives*. It's probably *already* saving lives. Just -- if it was something that *Orr* balked at --"

"We have to be *better*, Lex --"

"We also have to be *effective* --"

"Lex. You don't truly *want* this --"

Lex laughs wildly. "Of *course* I don't want it. My father should die in *prison*, not languish in some -- some friendly alien *coffin* -- fuck. When he gets out. When we *let* him out --"

"Someone else will have taken control of LuthorCorp. I..." Clark licks his lips. "*You* could, Lex."

Lex groans and covers his face with his hands.

One day -- before security was informed that of *course* Lionel Luthor wasn't allowed anywhere near the inner sanctums of B-L, Inc. -- the man had walked into Lex's and Bruce's office, sat down, and informed Lex that he'd been written back into the will -- and the company's chain of command. There would be cut-outs and limits, but --

The man had said that he was waiting patiently for Lex to come to his senses -- and to find somewhere else to "stick his cock" -- and --

And.

Clark had watched the footage.

Mercy had made Lex hire Hope so that one of them would *always* be there as the last line of defense --

And Bruce squeezes Clark's shoulder as hard as he can. "The ends never justify the *means*, Clark --"

"I know. I -- I take full responsibility for this --"

"It's not a question of *responsibility* --"

"But it is," Lex says, muffled by his hands -- "Clark could go on television and admit to this -- after we all --" Lex grunts and moves his hands. "There's going to be a period of confusion, Bruce."

"Yes, of course, but --"

"We finally -- *finally* -- have the time and opportunity to break down *all* the doors. We can *find* the evidence -- and there'll be no one to give the orders."

"Luthor has other *lieutenants* --"

"Clark can take them all. *Right* now," Lex says, and his smile is fierce, hard -- "A power vacuum like that... heh. We know where *most* of the holdings are. Interrogation will find us the rest. The proof -- once we have it -- will make it *reasonable* to let Lionel and Orr out of cold-storage."

Oh... yes. That works brilliantly -- Clark looks to Bruce --

He's frowning and shaking his head. He --

"Bruce --"

"Lex. It's -- it's *wrong* --"

"Take the cowl off, Bruce."

Bruce lifts his chin --

"Be a *man* with us now -- not a fucking *icon*."

The silence -- the *stillness* -- is a heavy thing, seemingly unbreachable. Clark looks to Jessica --

And Jessica is studying all of them. She's tense, but keeping her own counsel. She --

She knows... much.

"Jessica... what are some of the things Lionel Luthor has done in your time?"

Jessica *starts* to shake her head -- and then she closes her eyes for a moment.

"No, you -- don't bring her into this, Clark," Lex says, stepping away from Bruce and back to Jessica --

"We -- we can't risk losing her before --"

"It's all right," Jessica says, and raises a hand. "I believe I can... edge around the things which will change the future dramatically. Or..." Jessica frowns. "*This* hasn't changed the future enough to pull me away. Perhaps that means you've already -- you *will* convince Clark to -- hm." She frowns more deeply. "That doesn't seem... correct. Somehow."

"We can still stop Clark from doing this," Bruce says. "That would explain --"

"Or the future wouldn't change dramatically enough for us to lose Jessica," Lex says, and his smile is predatory -- "I trust your ability to say what needs to be said without drastic things occurring."

"I believe I can... ah. If I just say the things which occurred long after my birth... well. Anyway. He kills -- among many, many other people -- Hope. Indirectly. It's *possible* that the Toyman would've collected enough kryptonite to fashion those... those beam-rifles without Lionel Luthor's help, but... well. There were thousands of people within range of his 'toy soldiers' when they malfunctioned and began attacking everything moving. The initial death toll was close to a thousand people. Another three thousand people developed virulent cancers within the next three months --"

Lex growls. "*Hope*, you said --"

"She was... she was in position to assault Toyman directly once Super-- once Clark was down. She took... many burns. And --" Jessica shakes her head. "She saved everyone."

Lex narrows his eyes --

Clark -- "I... I have a suit --"

"Which protects you from kryptonite, yes." Jessica smiles ruefully and shakes her head again. "That much of it... I mean, that was the theory. That there was so much that you were finally just overwhelmed."

"Where." Bruce's voice is small and rough -- he swallows. "Where did this happen?"

"Metropolis. I... after the attack, there were no major kryptonite incidents for two years. I really do --" She laughs softly. "Everyone on the superhero forums believed that Lionel Luthor had depleted his supply."

Lex frowns. "Forums...?"

Jessica blinks rapidly and raises her hands. "I can't tell you that."

Lex nods. "Noted. We... Toyman gets out all the time. Lionel has more people hunting down kryptonite than *we* do. And --"

"Hope," Bruce says, and peels back his cowl. "She... of course I knew that she would throw herself into the riskiest situations..." He shakes his head. "It's wrong."

"But, Bruce?"

Bruce shows his teeth, types rapidly with one hand -- and, after a long moment, pictures of Luthor's top lieutenants, with information about them, come up on two of the monitors. On another two are lists of every known LuthorCorp holding which is shielded in lead.

Lex sighs out tension and nods. "Mercenaries, too?"

"Too... difficult to separate ourselves from," Bruce says, shaking his head and picking up the phone which only ever dials one number.

Clark listens to Bruce speaking with Green Lantern -- no. "I'll begin collecting the lieutenants," he says, and flies before anyone can call him back.

He *doesn't* take out his communicator, though. He -- he's not beyond *reason* --

And he can move efficiently. He collects *all* of the lieutenants at speed, bringing them to a building which is still in the process of being constructed and knocking them out gently and firmly.

Once he has them, he carries them two at a time to the Fortress --

And, by the time he's done with that, reports are coming in from all over --

And Clark realizes that this is the first time they've been more proactive than simply placing a suspect under surveillance. It's strange. It's -- mind-boggling, actually --

And, of course, Luthor has been their *worst* enemy -- the enemy of *all* of them -- but there are other murderers, other rapacious businesspeople...

Clark swallows and joins the hunt for evidence. Of course there'll be fallout from this.

People can't be *tried* on evidence gathered this way, but --

They'll be able to tell the police where to look, and --

There is, always, the court of public opinion.

And so Clark quietly alerts the media in every city where they weren't *already* alerted by the presence of Batman, Superman, or members of the Justice Society --

And something within him eases at the sound of Jimmy's camera shutter, the *bark* of Lois' interview voice --

Yes.

Yes.

In the end, barely three hours have passed before the various police departments have sent representatives to the lead-lined warehouses, laboratories, and other, even more frightening places. Spurred by private citizens who don't mind offering their identities to the police, there are even *arrests* made here and there. Even if they don't stick --

Well. The sun hasn't gone down, yet, and that feels --

It feels like a message.

And so Clark is smiling when he starts returning the lieutenants to their homes to face questions from the public *and* private sector.

It's all so fast!

The men and women will all awaken within an hour of being removed from stasis, and while they'll all feel somewhat chilled and uncomfortable --

While they'll all *suspect* what had happened to them --

They're going to wake up in an entirely new world.

Clark leaves Orr a thank you note -- in block print, of course -- when he drops the man off a mere ten minutes before the Hoboken police will be knocking on his door and then...

Hm.

Lionel Luthor's office has already been searched -- by LuthorCorp employees only at this point, but still.

His penthouse home hasn't been searched, but attempts will have been made to contact him there...

Ah. Clark flies the man to one of his vacation homes, considers and rejects leaving him in a position where he'll get a crick in his neck --

Considers and rejects leaving him in an *embarrassing* position -- no, he's not twelve, anymore, and it would be *suspicious* to melt every camera on the property. So.

He flies in at speed, leaves the man sleeping on top of his duvet, and flies right out again.

Lionel will be found soon enough. He *might* have time to come up with something to say about the stockpiles of illegal weapons Captain Marvel found, or the human experimentation Hour-Man found, or the large amount of *cocaine* *Lois* had found --

Well.

He *won't* be able to explain away everything. He --

There's nothing to say they can't do this all the *time*! Even Bruce has to see --

Well, no, he doesn't, but Lex will *help* Bruce see, and so will Clark himself, and so will --

Jessica.

Jessica who had smelled like Bruce *and* Lex --

Jessica who had been enough *like* their Tom, the other Tims --

But would she ever want...?

Clark reports to Bruce and then flies up to the exosphere to recharge. He only spends ten minutes this time --

His skin feels so --

He flies back down, seeks out Bruce's heartbeat --

And finds him in one of Green Lantern's force bubbles being flown back toward Gotham. Clark slips down to their altitude --

"I have a question for you, Superman," Green Lantern -- and there's no trace of Alan in his voice whatsoever -- says.

"Yes, GL?"

He frowns.

Clark winces. "I'm sorry; Green Lantern."

He nods. "How long were you planning to keep Luthor and friends on ice if the raid didn't happen?"

Well... "Until such time as his power base had been sufficiently eroded, sir."

He nods.

Clark checks -- yes, the thickness of the bubble will keep Bruce from hearing. The question is if he'll choose to read lips. "Do you disapprove of the results?"

Green Lantern looks at him, hard and blank even when Clark looks beyond his mask.

"All right. I can see how that wouldn't be the point for you. It wasn't for Batman, either, so you can stop blocking his hearing."

"He still agreed to this -- obscenity."

Clark blinks. "You feel that strongly about it. Even with everything we've brought a *halt* to today."

"This is America, son. *Not* the U.S.S.R. or China or any of the other tin-pot dictator-ruled so-called nations on this planet."

Clark blows out a breath. "I didn't want to see any more Americans *die* --"

"No. You didn't want your *lovers* to be *inconvenienced* --"

"Incon--" Clark shakes his head and plants himself in the sky in front of -- "Mr. Scott --"

"*Protocol* --"

"No, I think not," Clark says, and folds his arms over his chest. "I respect your opinions, Mr. Scott -- I always have. I respect your right to disagree with this mission --"

"Mission. You call this a *mission*?"

"Yes, I do, and I would *greatly* appreciate it if you didn't *interrupt* me again."

The beam from Scott's ring flares, thickens -- "Are you looking for a fight, Kent?"

Clark lets his nostrils flare -- but not his eyes. "No. All I was looking for today was a chance to put a stop to a plan which put children at risk badly enough to shake the sensibilities of an *assassin*. When the idea of a raid came to the fore --"

"When Luthor's spawn *suggested* it --"

"You will not speak about Lex Luthor that way. He has done more for Gotham -- and for *all* of us -- than any other man this *generation* --"

"And you'll do anything for him."

"Within reason --"

"This -- there's *no* reason to this, Kent. You *kidnapped* those people, assaulted them, and then shoved them in a jumped-up *freezer* --"

"And you --" Clark stops himself from growling. "You and your team *started* this, Mr. Scott. You *assault* criminals -- and people merely unlucky enough to *know* criminals -- night after night. Day after day! You drag criminals to out-of-the-way places to interrogate them. And I'm quite sure I could come up with something else, something *involving* imprisonment, if I'd studied your work as much as Bruce has --"

Scott grunts and *starts* to shake his head --

Clark nods. "All right. I'm not trying to -- to cast *stones* or anything like that. I *agree* that it was an extraordinary measure. I *agree* that it was a fundamentally *immoral* measure --"

"But you'd do it again."

"Yes," Clark says, and takes a breath. "Yes, I believe I would. If the usual tactics weren't enough. If there were lives in danger. And, yes, if it meant that my loved ones could sleep easier at night. I..." Sometimes, Clark doesn't sleep, at all. "Mr. Scott... this isn't going to change our so-called relationships with the world's criminals. They've always tried to murder us, they've always used kidnapping and torture --"

"It's not the *criminals* I'm *worried* about --"

"No? All right. Think about it. Think about the drugs, the guns, the torture victims in the name of science... the *police* could never do what we did, but we've never *been* police. We're vigilantes, Mr. Scott -- and all we got from pretending to... to be some sort of low-calorie, less-*filling* police force was an *entrenched* enemy with tentacles everywhere. An enemy we knew would just become *more* powerful --"

And Clark can see Bruce stiffen out of the corner of his eye, see him shake his head so fractionally that Scott might not have seen it, at all --

Though Scott is staring at him, now.

*Into* him -- "You know something the rest of us don't, Kent?"

*Jessica* -- no. No.

But what should he say?

*How* should --

What would Lex do? And the thought comes to him sudden, sharp, and wonderful. Clark smiles ruefully. "I know you don't believe in predicting the future --"

"It's gambling when it's not just a con-game, Kent. What the hell have you gotten yourself involved in *now*?"

"Nothing like *that*, Mr. Scott. My AI, however, is very fond of taking received data and making extrapolations. Everything about Lionel Luthor's business was expanding. His capital and profits were massive and doubling by the *year* --"

"There are no *excuses* --"

"I *agree*. But there were -- *are* -- reasons. Mr. Scott, if it's in my power and I feel it's necessary, I *will* do this -- or something like it -- again. If I have no backup to do the necessary raids, I'll just keep Luthor -- or whoever else it will turn out to be -- in stasis --"

"You *are* looking for a fight --"

"*Please*, Mr. Scott, just *listen*. In the end, Luthor and his associates were out of commission for only a few *hours* today. It could've been even less than that had we more help --"

"The Society isn't your personal *hit* squad --"

"Is that what you feel you were today? *Honestly*? With all the crimes averted and the criminals themselves caught red-handed?"

"You're not *getting* it, Kent --"

"And you're not even *trying* to! The world is *changing* every day. We can make futile efforts to hold the line against it while the criminals and -- and *villains* surrounding us get more and more of a stranglehold on society --"

"Or we can use their methods? Steal a play from their book?"

"They won't even have *concussions*, Scott!" It would've been *nice* if he'd remembered to tell the AI not to fix their health problems --

Well, it couldn't do anything about Lionel Luthor's cancer, and that's something. And Scott is still --

"Just -- take a deep breath and *weigh* the pros and cons, Scott!"

Scott meets his eyes then, but his eyes are still coldly *rageful* behind the mask. There's no way for Clark to be sure *yet* about how the rest of the JSA feel about their efforts today, but he knows, now, that Scott will not be subtle or gentle about sharing *his* opinions. He --

Clark has caused a rift today. Something -- something that might not be healed.

Clark closes his eyes and takes a deep breath of his own. "I'm sorry you feel the way you do. I'm sorry to have offended you so... gravely. I'm sorry I feel the way *I* do. Do you think we'll be able to work together in the future?"

Bruce, he knows, is using his cape to hide the clench of his fists --

And Scott shows his age for a long moment more frightening --

More frightening than anything else he's ever seen. Clark swallows --

"I don't let allies fall, Kent," he says, but there's something --

"Am I still your ally?"

Scott -- Green Lantern grunts, sharp and masculine as ever. "For now."

Clark nods once. "For now, then," he says, and offers his hand.

Green Lantern clasps his forearm, squeezes with all the strength of magic and the wonderful, terrifying, unknowable *ring*, and nods back.

"I'm more than willing to take --"

"Batman and I have things to discuss," Green Lantern says, and his tone is the curt *order* that he'd used in Clark's first days as an operative.

He has been relegated to child status again --

And it could be worse.

"As you say," Clark says, and turns to Bruce to let him read his lips easily.. "I'll see you at home."

Bruce inclines his head, and the messages in his eyes --

They're not unreadable so much as they're full of *conflict*. Bruce isn't sure which of them he agrees with --

And that's the way it has to be for now.

Clark flies up to the exosphere once more to give Scott and Bruce the impression of privacy --

He's going to Gotham, too, and he can *listen* --

No, Bruce will tell him everything which needs to be said once they're together again. He doesn't have to be... like that. Still, he feels unfinished and wary, restless and *unsatisfied* --

They'd done so much *good* --

Clark frowns and flies back down to Metropolis, pausing at the Daily Planet --

Lois is crowing.

Quite literally, going by the sound of her laughter --

Clark slips into the shadow of the globe and listens more closely --

"-- swear, Jimmy, Clark is going to *die* when he comes back from wherever he'd gotten himself to *this* time --"

"He did say he was out of town --"

"Do I look like I care? Do I *smell* like I care?"

"You -- um. Actually, you smell a bit like baby powder."

"That's what they were cutting all that Brazilian marching powder with, Jimmy, pay attention!"

"Yes, ma'am!"

"My *God*, I can't believe they managed to get *away* with this. Superman caught them all *napping*, Jimmy!"

"When... have you... napped?"

"Napping is for -- for -- uh oh."

"Lois?"

"I. Maybe. Coke warehouses don't exactly measure up to OSHA codes in terms of air filtration -- *Jimmy*!"

"Yes, ma'am! I mean -- are you okay, Lois?"

"No! Yes!" Lois giggles helplessly, breathlessly --

Clark strokes the roof and wonders --

Wants --

Why not?

He changes into the -- terrible -- suit he keeps in an air-vent in the basement garage and forces himself to take the slow, balky elevator up to the newsroom floor. He can hear Lois alternately giggling and pacing, yelling at Jimmy and --

That was something of a *coo* --

Clark fills a large cup with water and brings it to her --

"Smallville! Where were you?"

Where *will* his article be filed from? Hm. He was *there* to bust up the illegal munitions plant in -- "Ah, Reidville, actually," he says, and makes a point of pushing up his glasses with the hand he's holding the water with, spilling some on his forehead -- "Oh, dear --"

Lois giggles and yanks the water away from him, spilling more on his shirt.

Considering how Lex feels about the shirt in question... yes, he would've wanted it to be ink.

Or possibly acid.

Lois chugs the water and shakes herself like a dog before gasping and narrowing her eyes -- at Emma Wainwright from the Style section.

That could be --

"Emma!"

"Yes, Lois?" She's patting her hair and looking for a way to *escape* --

"Emma!"

"Yes! I mean -- what? Is it?"

Lois giggles and points at her. "You're *afraid* of me."

"I -- I --"

"Say it!"

"Lois, I --"

"Saaaaayyyy it. Oh my God. I think. My brain is going about a *billion* miles per hour and I have to *pee*. Right now! Emma!"

"*What*?!"

"Come with me to the bathroom! That's what girls do! And I'm a girl! Sometimes!"

Emma pales dramatically, skin losing its usual brown luster and turning *grey*. And... no.

Clark clears his throat -- no. Clark clears his throat *and* turns Lois to face him. "I saw Superman in Reidville, Lois."

"What? At the munitions plant! Clark! What did he *say* about this?" Lois grabs his tie and begins *choking* him with it --

Clark coughs a bit --

"Clark! Answer me now now now!"

"He said -- that he wanted to give *you* the exclusive," Clark says, and nods at her hopefully.

"I -- still have to pee. I have to interview him! But --"

"We're walking to the ladies' room now, Lois --"

"You're not a *lady*. Well, no, you're more of a lady than I'll *ever* be --"

"Only sometimes," Clark says, and gives himself a moment -- subjectively -- to consider Bruce's kinks. He really does seem to *enjoy* men in eyeliner and at least some -- subtle -- other makeup --

He tends to be *worshipful* when it's in the offing, and that's the sort of thing which may as well be *designed* to ease Clark's usual awkward shyness. To be that sort of *appreciated* --

And a certain degree of ladylike *behavior* is appreciated, as well --

Though Clark knows for a fact that he doesn't ask for that from *Lex*.

He wonders if Jessica is ever ladylike. That would be --

Lois is staring at him.

She's still walking, but she's definitely also staring --

"Yes, Lois?"

She jabs him in the chest --

Clark paralyzes his pectoral as quickly as he can, but --

"*Ow*! Why did I do that? Why did you stand there? What do you mean you're a lady sometimes? I have to *pee*!"

Clark turns her toward the ladies' room door. "Superman said he would come to the roof... oh..." Clark looks at his watch.

Clark takes off his watch and turns it right-side-up --

"Clark!"

"Seven minutes from now," he says, and smiles as earnestly as he can.

She makes a sound like a *shouted* growl --

And then she slams into the bathroom, narrowly avoiding breaking Jane Thibodeaux's nose before barreling past her.

Clark brings Jane a glass of water, too, compliments her on her pretty yet practical shoes, and then goes to change again.

It takes effort not to arrive early, but Superman isn't supposed to wait around rooftops for beautiful star reporters -- though Clark *had* learned to stay on the side of the globe with no easy lines of sight. He *really* wishes they could've learned something incriminating about the inner workings of the Metropolis Moon -- Lionel Luthor's pet tabloid -- today, but...

There'll be other days.

Which is, Clark thinks, more than enough reason to be whistling the song of the starling which perches on the windowsill outside of Bruce's bedroom most often when Lois steps out of the roof access door looking bright, cheerful, beautiful --

And somewhat wild about the eyes. She has her notebook in her hands, the toes of her heels shine enough to look sharpened, and the wind is making her hair look *casually* perfect -- as opposed to merely professionally so --

"*Spill*, Big Blue."

He whistles interrogatively --

Lois snorts --

And Clark smiles, careful to pull on some of the professionalism she's losing. "Your heart is beating very fast, Lois."

"I -- yes. I was exposed to -- that's not important!"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm *sure*! Gimme the *dirt*! When did you decide to raid the LuthorCorp holdings? *Why* did you decided to do it today? How did you get out *alive*?"

Clark smiles more widely. "Much of this will be unprintable, Lois."

Lois growls and stabs at her notebook with her pen -- "*You* said exclusive --"

"Would you like the printable parts first?"

"I -- gimme the whole *story*! In *order*!"

"All right. Six billion years ago -- approximately --"

She growls again -- and hoots.

Clark winks at her.

Lois rocks back and forth on her heels --

Paces around the globe --

Shoves her hands through her hair --

Briefly loses her *pen* in her hair --

And then she's back in front of Clark with a *manically* sheepish smile on her face. "I don't like cocaine."

"It's not a very friendly drug, no. May I take you back to your home?"

Lois blows out a breath. "I thought you were gonna use the *other* h-word," she says, and pushes her hair back behind her ears.

Clark smiles again. "No, I don't believe you require a physician's care. You do, however, need rest and fluids."

"I suppose you *would* know all about these things. I know enough to write a decent article here and there, but -- I never had time for drugs in college and I *don't* have time now and -- argh. I want my exclusive!"

Clark uses his speed to tuck her pen and notebook into her purse. "You'll have it. I promise you," and it's all right if Superman sounds like the child of Clark and Kal-El sometimes, isn't it?

Certainly, it makes Lois blush attractively in this moment --

Though it could've been the fact that he'd used his powers. "Come with me, Lois."

"You... you're honestly going to fly me home. That's what you're going to do. That and *nothing* else --"

"There *is* a story to tell --"

"*Kal-El*. When are you gonna stop pussyfooting around and *fuck* me?"

Clark feels his eyes widen dramatically --

He can't seem to make them go back to the way they *should* be --

Lois has flirted, of course, and Clark has even flirted *back*, but she's never --

In retrospect, it's *odd* that she's never --

Just -- *considering* --

"*Well*?"

He'd lost his subjective *edge*, and she --

Lois can smell the blood in the water. Her instincts have always been the *best* -- her heart is beating even faster now, and the pound of it --

The rush and flow of the blood in her veins --

The scent of her menstruation --

She's only at the beginning of her cycle, and some women quite *enjoy* the complexity menstruation can give an orgasm and --

"Kal. Wear me out. Ride me hard and put me away *wet*. Show me how super you can *be*. Show me what makes you an *alien* --"

"Lois --"

"Take me *home*."

He takes her home, and --

It's damning for both of them that she leaves her bedroom window unlocked, that he'd *known* she did that --

("I don't know if you can hear me or not, Kal. I don't know if you're listening if you *can*. But... consider this an invitation.")

The click of her lock disengaging had driven him to Gotham and driven him to his knees, and all Clark had had to say --

("Batman. Please leave your cowl *on*.)

Curiosity, hunger -- a *nod* --

("Open your *mouth*, boy.")

Here, now, Lois is pacing --

She stops and kicks off her shoes --

She paces more --

"Lois --" And he cuts himself off for the roughness in his voice, the -- the *obviousness* --

*Her* eyes widen -- and narrow again. "That was all it took? *Really*? I could've had you here -- take off your *clothes*!"

"Lois, you're not -- you're not *sober* --"

"And *you're* not soft. You..." Lois focuses on Clark's groin and licks her lips. "You could at least wear a dance belt under there. If you *don't* want attention like mine, I mean -- but you do want it."

"Yes. But --"

Lois smiles at him, wide and wet and *sharp*. She bites her lip deliberately as she slips her jacket off --

*Keeps* biting it as she unbuttons her blouse --

She needs rest. She needs --

And that has nothing to *do* with why she's wearing nothing but her brassiere, panties, garters, and stockings --

She gasps and sways on her feet, presses on her chest as if she can stop her heart from pounding that way --

"Lois, I'm --"

"You're not sorry."

"You --"

"You're *not* *sorry*, Kal. You're... hn. A little bit kinky, maybe? A little bit... invested in me looking pretty right now? Pretty and *available*, that is," and she tugs on the straps of her brassiere before standing hipshot. The space between her thighs is --

He could slip his hand just *there* --

"Kal. Let me see you. Please?"

Clark groans --

Superman tries to make him fly back out the window --

And Kal strips all of them naked in less than a blink, stalking close and lifting Lois --

"*Fuck* --"

Pulling her close, close enough that when he lets go of his control just a little bit more --

"*Hnh* -- you -- you just slapped my pussy with your *dick* --"

"Lois," and he *is* himself, he is, even though he sounds at the end of his *tether*, sounds dangerous and demanding --

She shivers and tries to press closer still -- but.

Kal lifts her into a kiss, allowing himself to be hard all over even as he makes the kiss gentle, *testing* --

*Clark* kisses her hard enough to swell her lips, and that's an accident, but he needs the control back, the -- God, the *agency* --

And Lois is whimpering and scratching at Clark's shoulders, Lois is *straining* to press closer, Lois is shaking all over, needing --

Needing him.

Right *now*.

This *day* --

Tim and Lex and Tim again --

The raids --

Why *not*?

Clark cups her hips and squeezes *firmly* before pushing her back --

The taste of her is so --

She hadn't had time for more than two cigarettes today, and that -- no.

"K--"

Kal lifts her into another kiss, and another, and another. He shoves his tongue into her mouth and tastes her, learns her --

She moans and struggles, but he knows what she wants.

Kal can smell her, menstrual blood and pre-ejaculate, baby powder and baking soda and cocaine, Metropolis and Pell Mell cigarettes, arousal and -- pain.

Clark pulls back --

Kal looks her *over* -- "You're dazed. Shivering."

Lois grunts and blinks rapidly, licking her lips -- "That was one *fuck* of a kiss, Supes --"

"No."

"No?"

"Here, now, I --" But he's *not* only Kal. He -- can he?

Lex would *throw* something at him. Bruce would ask him if he was really *sure*.

Both of them... would have a point.

"There are secrets I would tell you, Lois, but I can't."

She studies his mouth --

She blushes and looks up to meet his eyes. "You're missing a word from that sentence."

Clark blinks -- "I am?"

"*Yet*," she says, snarling and *fighting* to get closer --

"Everything in time," Kal says, singularly without *permission* --

And the light behind Lois' eyes flares and hardens. "You wanna tease me, Kal?"

"Don't --" Clark shakes his head. "Don't call me Superman. Anything else, but not that. All right?"

She frowns at him --

She can *see* the schism --

Clark tightens his grip on her hips and spins her around --

Kal walks her to the foot of the bed --

"Bend over for me. Please," *one* of them says --

"Oh -- Kal --"

"*Please*."

Lois bends, dropping to her elbows on her high bed, her double mattress --

He'll ask why she has it. He'll --

"Lois..."

"I -- I'm *listening*, Kal --"

"I want to make love to you with my mouth --"

"I want your *dick* --"

"You'll *have* it," Kal says, and bites her left buttock, upper teeth digging in against her practical cotton panties -- for her period? -- and lower teeth against the meat of her cheek --

"*Fuck* --"

He's sorry, he's --

He's not sorry in the *slightest*, but if she were less aroused he'd be *worried*, because this isn't --

Kal has always been so *numinous* within him -- well. Not *always*, but always when it came to *sex*. This -- is different. Dangerous. *Thrilling* --

No. He has to control himself at least a little bit. He has to --

("Meditation, Clark...? It took me years to learn to do it properly. I had to open myself to *myself* before I could open myself to anything else.")

Yes. That.

"A moment, Lois."

"*What*?"

"Stay *right* there," Clark says in Kal's voice --

Lois grunts and -- clenches.

He can *hear* it --

And it's necessary to spread her legs wider --

"Oh -- oh, *fuck*, Kal --"

To press his face in against her still-covered vulva and breathe, nuzzle and *breathe* --

"*Ahn* -- *Kal* --"

Clark pulls back --

And Kal slaps her lips through her panties, hard enough to make her jerk and cry out --

"*Stay* there."

"Yes! Fuck -- *yes* --"

And Superman's speed gets him back out the window and into the sky, higher and higher until the thermosphere is burning him, *roasting* him --

Until he's in the exosphere again and letting himself gasp, need -- and hopefully *cope*.

He quiets himself with the steady *whip* of solar energy, the power of it flooding him and making him both harder and more *sure* of himself --

Whoever that is. Whoever --

Kal is coming out no matter what he does.

*Clark* is stealing control *back* from moment to moment, but --

Isn't this proof that Kal *has* to come out to at least a certain extent? That he was repressing too much? Or --

Was it Kal who'd made the decision about the stasis boxes and then held to it even against *Alan Scott*?

Could he have been --

Was he more alien today? More controlling? More... sure.

Clark frowns at his hands --

And realizes that it's a habit he'd picked up from Bruce -- a physical tic designed to center himself *in* himself -- no matter what role he's playing. This --

He doesn't think this is a *role*, at all. This --

Lois *wants* Kal from him, and she -- she thinks Kal is real. She's *always* thought Kal was real, and why shouldn't she? That's who Superman had *introduced* her to. Does Lois *make* Kal more real?

Wouldn't she have to?

Is that *healthy*?

Clark looks down and down until he can make out the shapes of Gotham, the particular shape of Wayne Tower --

The cliffs near the manor --

And yes, Bruce *will* go back there, even as Lex will likely take Jessica into the office with him to monitor events from there and give ambiguously negative --- and thus legally defensible -- statements to the press about his father.

Bruce will be able to tell him more about all of this --

He can't make Lois wait that long. He -- he just can't.

He meditates at speed, sinking deep within himself until he feels like nothing more than a sentient battery in the process of being *charged*. There are other parts of him which can be charged. There are --

He sinks --

He feels --

He *opens* -- and when he does, he can see a man in entirely different clothes. *Kryptonian* clothes. His eyes are hard, but there's love in them. His smile is as sharp as one of Lex's, but that doesn't mean he doesn't crave *touch* --

Crave --

Companionship.

That which Clark had given them with Bruce and Lex -- and more than that as well.

He sees Kal's hunger, and he knows it's his own.

He sees --

And he accepts as provisionally as he can. Enough to make the smile on his face feel strange and sharp, enough to make him answer the sun with a blast from his heat vision, enough to fly.

It's only been a minute and a half by human reckoning, but Lois is already shuddering. He can smell *anxiety* --

And that he cannot -- *will* not -- accept. "Lois."

"*Hnh* -- I -- Kal. I didn't hear --"

"I know. Did you fear, Lois?"

He uses his x-ray vision to note her blush, how it fades *into* her flush --

Kal bends and reaches around her to cup her breasts -- "Lower your head."

"Kal --"

"Do it now, Lois. I would kiss the back of your neck."

Lois moans and does it --

And Kal makes love to the back of her neck, breathes and nuzzles and kisses until he can feel her coming over in gooseflesh, until she's shivering and beginning to pant once more --

And then he shifts his grip, catches her plum-colored nipples between his fingers --

"Oh -- oh, *Kal* --"

"Tell me how sensitive you are here."

"Not -- where did you *go*?"

"To the exosphere. I had to think about my actions... and my needs."

"You -- were making your mind up?"

"Something like that. I would've come back here to make love to you either way," Kal says and bites the flesh over the apex of her spine *hard* --

"*Oh* --"

"But there is some question of *how* I would have come back."

"What -- God, what does that fucking *mean*?"

Kal smiles. "That is a secret I can't tell you. Yet."

Lois moans -- cuts herself off --

And *shouts* when Kal twists her nipples the same way Clark twists Bruce's. "You never told me how sensitive you were."

"I -- I --"

"I'm going to have to learn for myself," Kal says, stripping off her brassiere and moving her --

Moving both of them until Kal is on his back beneath her, until her legs are spread around his chest and he can *suckle* her breasts, back and forth and back again, fast enough that the sensations are almost certainly running together for her --

Slow enough that she can *feel* the way he's moving her --

"Oh, God -- oh, *God* --"

"I don't smell pain, yet."

"No -- you -- oh, *please*, Kal --"

A harder suck and she shouts for him.

A bite and she beats at his shoulders with her fists --

"Don't do that, Lois --"

"*Please*!"

Kal moves her down his body until he can look into her eyes -- and she can look into his own.

"*Fuck*, your eyes -- that glow -- are you *angry*?"

"No. It also happens when I'm aroused enough to have lost a significant fraction of my control." He'd surrendered it... but how long before he won't have that choice? <<You are *fire*, hungry one.>>

Lois frowns as she pants. "That -- that was Kryptonian?"

"Yes. I'll teach you if you wish... another time."

Lois moans -- "Please. I -- I'm so *wet*..."

Kal breathes deeply... "A good portion of that is blood."

A blush -- "Oh -- I can't believe I forgot --"

"I assure you that I am not... squeamish."

"Uh. You. You -- I can't *think* --"

"You don't have to. Tell me I can do whatever I wish."

She grunts and --

"The sound of your clench makes me long to take you *roughly*... but I will not injure you."

"You -- you can't -- you have to *stop* if I tell you to --"

"Yes," Kal says, and smiles broadly. "But I don't think you will."

The light behind her eyes flares and she shows her teeth -- "Cocky bastard."

"Give me the chance to prove myself, hungry one."

"Hungry -- you --" And Lois laughs, shaking her head. "I should make you lie still while I sit on your *face*."

Kal shows his own teeth.

"Oh. Oh, that -- looks like a *threat*. Kal -- *ah* --"

A simple matter to lift her enough to remove her panties, to ease out her tampon and position her just *so* --

"Oh, God oh *fuck*, you -- you don't *have* --"

"I'll do what I want now, Lois. And nothing else," Kal says, lowering her down the last inch --

Breathing in iron and salt and *tang* --

He slaps at her clitoris with his tongue, back and forth, up and down --

She grunts for each moment of contact, and that was information he needed.

He uses the tip of his tongue on the aperture of her urethra -- little to no response. All right.

He shoves his tongue as deep as it will go within her vagina --

She growls and clenches, leaking more fluids and painting him, *marking* him --

Yes.

Kal makes his tongue as hard as he can and teases her with it, moving her when she tries to take him inside herself, holding her still when she strains to move --

"*Kal* --"

He growls into her --

She moans and shoves her hands into his hair, pulling and clutching --

He lifts her --

"*Please* --"

"*Beg*, Lois --"

"Fuck *me* -- I -- ah. You --"

"You know how to do it."

"You -- fuck, you don't think that's a sign of a -- an insecure --"

He lifts her away from his face, enough that she can feel cool air --

"Oh, *God* -- no, don't, please, I need to come --"

"More."

"Please, Kal, please make me come, please -- uh. Uh. Get me ready for you? I don't know what you *want* --"

"Everything," Kal says, and licks a stripe from the lower edge of her inner labia to the tip of her clitoris --

"*Oh* --"

He does it again harder --

"*Kal* --"

He *nibbles* her inner labia and keeps doing it as she growls, as she curses --

As she sobs --

As, finally --

"Oh, please, *please*, I --" Lois' breath is a sob, desperate and sharp -- "Please, Kal, don't -- it's a *tease* --"

Kal holds both inner labia between his teeth and *hums* --

And her scream is brief, but heartfelt -- and precisely what at least a part of him needed more than -- oh, more than anything *else*. He takes her with his tongue to reward her --

"*Yes*, Kal, oh -- I want your *dick* --"

And, perhaps, to prepare her for *this*:

He moves them until her feet are on the floor again, until she's bent and *presented* to him, and it's tempting to spread her immediately -- but.

"I -- what happened -- *fuck*. *Please* tell me you didn't just need to go search your goddamned *soul* more --"

"I'm here. I need you to... feel."

"I *was* feeling -- *fuck* --"

The spank to her lips was quite light, but she still tenses and shudders --

He spanks her twice more --

Again --

"*Kal*, you -- *that* will be a tease --"

"You've done this before?"

Her laugh is high, bright --

Her fluids are drying on his *skin* -- "Answer me."

"*Yes* -- I. Fuck, Kal, I've done a *lot*, and I -- I don't know if I want to apologize or -- *ohn* --"

He holds her buttocks spread and... examines. "There are no tears here."

"What? No, I -- "

"But you've been taken anally."

The soft crushing sound -- she's biting her lip --

"Lois... every time you hesitate to answer --"

"You'll do something incredibly hot and *wrong*?" And Lois' laugh is a little febrile. It edges toward hysterical -- though never quite gets there.

"Every time you hesitate, I'll be forced to spend less time seeking your... input."

Lois pants -- "Yes. I've been fucked there. It's never -- I still want it --"

"Good," Kal says, and crouches in the air, spreads her wider --

"Oh -- oh, I need --"

"This," and Kal shoves his tongue deep --

She caws, clenches, and works her hips immediately, perfectly --

And Kal knows jealousy for the first one who'd had this, for *everyone* who'd had this --

He must be *better*. He must -- yes. He speeds his internal systems enough that the heat he generates goes from feverish to, perhaps, *alarming* --

She cries out --

He grips her hips hard enough to mark, hard enough to keep her perfectly still -- and then he pulls out and licks over and around her anus, stroking the pucker with the flat of his tongue, slapping at it with the tip --

"In me -- *in* me --"

And so he pushes two fingers into her vagina --

"*Fuck* --"

Kal takes that as a request, working his fingers in such a way as to stimulate her G-spot with his knuckles as he penetrates her anus --

Again and again --

"*Please* --"

Her musk is as intoxicating as he'd always known it would be during those times when he'd teased himself with her scent as she walked past his chair --

The one time he'd been in the room as she'd bent to take a file from a low drawer of a cabinet --

Kal groans *into* her and promises himself human heat, passion, softness --

Her cries are rising --

Her *scent* is rising --

"Kal -- Kal, God, fuck -- "

Harder then, more --

*Deeper*, as deep as he can go *this* way --

She's working her hips in hard, ragged circles. She --

"*Kal* --"

He slips out of both holes and slips one slick finger into her rectum --

"*Ohn* --"

Two from the *other* hand into her vagina --

"Please please -- *nuh* --"

And it only takes two uneven thrusts before she screams for him --

Beats at the bed with her clenched fists --

"Lois. I *need* you."

She tenses and wails, clenching hard enough that a human might feel *pain* --

"So beautiful, Lois, so *perfect*..."

And her orgasm takes her then, forcing her to rock back onto his fingers in a rhythm which *could* damage her to at least a certain extent -- if Kal wasn't being careful.

But careful is something --

How much will he be able to take?

He's already lost control of his sweat glands enough that he's slick, is already *nearly* panting for her scents, her flavors --

Beautiful *Lois* --

Eventually, her rocking slows to something which could almost seem soothing --

And when her vagina clenches in an aftershock, ejaculate spills out over his fingers --

The sight of that --

But he doesn't want to risk contaminating her genitals --

"A moment," Kal says, and flies to her bathroom to *wash*, doing it as fast as he can given the vagaries of water flow, air pressure --

He brushes his teeth with his finger --

And then he delves within her vagina once more, noting the engorgement, the slightly greater tightness that he'd learned with the few women Clark had made love to in college -- casual affairs all, and making himself into someone who could *do* that --

He'd called on his memories of Lex a great deal for that, for all that he'd barely used them when it counted. Perhaps that's why the women had grown bored with him --

Or perhaps he shouldn't have hidden Kal?

It seems a dangerous and problematic assumption to *make* --

"Kal -- *Kal* --"

Perhaps Lois will have advice for him --

"Ohn -- *Kal* --"

But not for Clark. Not for --

Is that the problem? She'd *called* for Kal, but has no real idea that there *is* a Clark she could've called for --

A Clark within him. Someone with lovers, friends --

Someone who doesn't *bumble* --

But growling against Lois' vulva makes *her* growl, makes her grind her hips and shove back, beg and demand --

"Tell me I may have your rectum... when I've finished with your vagina."

"*More* -- I mean -- hnh --" Lois tosses her hair, claws at the sheets --

Flips her hair over her left shoulder and looks *back* at him --

"Kal."

Kal teases her inner labia with his tongue --

Lois groans --

"I am here, Lois. Answer --"

"You can -- I won't come that way."

"You will."

"*You* don't live in this *body* --"

"Trust that I will find some way to please you with my penis inside your rectum, Lois. Trust that in this moment I want nothing more."

Lois groans again -- "God, *Kal*."

"Yes --"

"When you *talk* like that -- I..."

Kal rises behind her and takes himself in hand, dragging the head of his penis along the length of her clitoris --

"*Kal* --"

"Tell me."

"Tell you *what*?"

Lex would -- yes. Kal slaps her clitoris with his penis --

"*Fuck*, do -- do that again --"

"No."

"Kal, *please* --"

"Tell me about my speech, hungry one."

"I'll *show* you --" And she reaches back between her legs, *claws* for Kal's penis --

It's too tempting. He allows her to make contact --

And he has to gasp, because Lois has always had very thick, very *strong* nails --

Right now they feel more like *claws* --

"*In* me -- come *on* --"

Kal smells himself sweating more, feels himself leak pre-ejaculate, spatter her as he flexes -- "*Tell* me."

She whimpers and catches herself on her hands as she drops --

Her fluids are pink and *promising* -- "*Lois* --"

"So -- more *alien*, more -- you don't sound like you're *speaking* English, as opposed to making... making it seem like I'm *hearing* English."

"I have no such power --"

"I *know* -- Kal, you -- do you want me on my knees? On the floor? On my *face*?"

The feel of that --

The need it -- it *engenders* --

And Clark is rising within him, urging him to stroke himself, to *expose* what those words make him feel -- "Sometimes --"

"*Sometimes*? What about *now*?"

Kal shakes his head and tries to breathe --

Tries to breathe in more than woman, Lois, beauty --

"Sometimes my other lovers ask that of me," he says, and tries to sound encouraging, inviting --

Lois pants -- "You let people *top* you?"

Kal nods and steps forward again, *presses* on Lois' clitoris with the head of his penis --

A grunt -- "Kal, you -- who -- are they other *heroes*, at least?"

"Do you -- one of them --"

"Batman," she says, calm and *sure* --

Kal blushes --

Clark *grips* her --

"Lois --"

"I won't tell. Who *would* I tell -- all right, don't think about that --"

Kal laughs breathlessly and grinds against her --

"Oh -- fuck *me*, you -- no. *Fuck* me. You need to *come* --"

"I need you. More of you --"

"Then *take* me! God, you -- you're so fucking *big* --"

"For you --"

"For -- for the *world*," Lois says, laughing high and loud -- "C'mon, Kal. Fuck me. *Prove* to me that I need to *never* be subtle again --"

"I've never been -- I'm not subtle, *either* --"

"Then maybe we were made to be loud together --"

"Lois, *yes*..."

And saying that makes her heart speed, makes it --

"Your heart is pounding --"

"*Yes*, Kal --"

"I *need* you. Tell me -- tell me you *understand* --"

"I'll do anything if you --"

"Yes, of course," and Kal shifts, guides --

Lois grunts and clenches immediately --

Lois *pushes*, forcing herself open --

Kal shoves against the resistance, pushes until he can feel himself slicked and taken at once, sheathed in her fluids, in her beautiful body --

She groans and tries to shove herself back further, to take *more* --

"Lois, I -- I have no more to *give* --"

Her laugh this time is musical, sweet and high as a child's --

Kal strokes her hips and wonders what he can do to get more of *that* sound --

"I was -- ah. Just *checking*. It feels like you're in my *lungs*."

"Ah. I see -- no *pain* --"

"You could *tell* if there -- " She cuts herself with a moan, throws her head back -- and *then* clenches around him --

"So soft -- so *human* --"

"That's -- a *kink*?"

"*Always*," Kal says, and bends down to cover her, to breathe hotly against the back of her neck until she shivers --

"You -- you could *crush* me --"

"I could hold you against the bed with my body -- "

She clenches again and groans, works her hips again --

"Lois. Lois --"

"*Do* it -- "

He wraps his arms around her and carries her closer to the head of the bed --

He lays her down and lowers himself slowly, carefully --

She growls and *bucks* up against him, hard enough that a human male would perhaps feel a degree of *pain* in his penis --

And Kal is salivating for that, dreaming of it and wanting --

("Clark, you... I don't think I can ever be comfortable playing sexual games with something which could *hurt* you --"

"Not -- not that much. Not in that *quantity*. You can see me --"

"You're *shaking* --"

"I *need* you --")

And Bruce had walked the kryptonite ten feet away -- far enough that the effects were only mild --

And Clark had shaken for him still.

("I see.")

And so does he, now, because Lois doesn't want his *care* right now -- save for the way it will keep Kal from going *too* far.

*Almost* too far... is just far enough.

"Yes," Kal says, because he *has* to give answer. "*Yes*," because it's difficult to be sure whether she's trying to take him deep once more or simply trying to *bludgeon* him with her sex --

Her beautiful --

"*Yes*, Lois," and he shoves in *hard* --

She yells --

He covers her and bites her neck once more --

"Oh, God -- oh --"

"*More*," and that was more of a growl than a word, but he has her, he *has* her, and this can't end yet --

He has so much more --

He *must* give --

"*Kal* -- you -- I can't *breathe* --"

"Do you *like* --"

"*Yes*. *Fuck* me and don't let *go* --"

Kal groans and does just that, digging in with his teeth enough to bruise, cupping her breasts and squeezing -- no, he wants to thrust harder.

He grips her shoulders and *promises* himself more of her breasts later, let there be a *later* --

"*Lois* --"

"Like -- oh, like *that* --"

"Do you -- I *feel* you --"

"So big. So thick and big and *hot*, fucking -- why did you make me *wait*?"

Kal pants, tries to -- no. "I was a *fool* --"

She laughs, gasps and claws at the bed -- "You -- you'll do this *again* --"

"Whenever you allow --"

"You -- you won't make me have to *ask* --"

Kal growls because the images are immediate, the *need* --

He could fly her up and away from prying eyes.

He could fly her to the Fortress and *keep* -- not forever. Not --

She has responsibilities --

"*Kal* --"

"*Always*. From -- I saw you and knew *desire* --"

"You *waited* --"

"Secrets. *Secrets*, Lois --"

"Give me *all* of them, give me --" And the rest of that is almost a croak, loud and harsh --

He didn't *mean* to take her harder, to --

"*Kal* --"

The scent -- "You -- you *hurt* for this --"

"Don't *stop* --"

"Not -- I will not *punish* in this --"

"*Please*, I --" And the rest of that is a scream as she tries and fails to throw her head back --

He's biting again. He --

She'll be *marked* --

Kal growls and he does it again, again --

His hips are only barely listening to him, his body is --

No, he's *not* out of control, he -- he is still himself and he will not --

Lois screams and tenses, jerks in his grasp --

"*Yes*, Lois --"

And she begins attempting to take more of him, to --

No, she wants faster and *harder* for her orgasm, and that's what Kal will give, always *give* --

If he can just keep himself --

Stay -- somehow stay, hold on to --

Lois slumps --

Clenches --

"Kal, *come*."

Oh, but that order always --

It is and *isn't* the right name, but the order is making him jerk and spasm, making him *bellow* --

"Oh -- oh, *Kal* --"

To either side of Lois' apartment, people have paused in their usual activities -- almost certainly to *listen*. It makes him want to rut even as it makes him want to *hide* -- but only one part of him can win this -- this *battle* --

"Come *now*."

Kal growls and gives her breasts to himself, cups them and squeezes, teases himself with her nipples --

"*Kal* --"

"I *need* -- *hnh* --" Clench. She --

He should tell her to be --

To be *still*, but --

Maybe she can't. Maybe the *rhythmic* squeezes of her internal muscles are the only thing she can do in the face of Kal's near-*assault* --

No, he's not thinking about Alan *Scott* --

Better to think of Bruce --

No, Lex, because, yes, he'd love Lois so much, need her and need to *play* with her --

They could all be companions *together*, and he and Bruce could *watch* Lex and Lois together --

But Bruce -- oh.

Oh. Today was the *first* time he'd made love to a woman, but it doesn't have to be his last --

"*Kal* --"

"I want -- I want to *share* you --"

"What the *fuck* --"

"Just -- my lovers. I -- I've been *jealous* --"

She tries to turn --

Kal bites her again, licks her, sucks the sensitive flesh beneath her ear --

"Kal, I don't *know* your --" She shouts *strangely* --

And Kal realizes that he's vibrating his body --

*All* of his body --

"Oh my fucking -- *Kal* --"

"I need. I need *more* --"

"My *ass* -- *ahn* --"

"I'm sorry, I pulled out too quickly --"

"Do it, Kal, do *me* --

Lubricant. *Better* lubricant --

In her bedside table, mostly depleted -- next to a large toy *obviously* meant for anal play. He must --

Kal *pauses* with the drawer open. "You've trained yourself."

"I've *tried*. You -- Kal, get in me and *come*."

Kal's penis twitches and he grips it, strokes the pink-streaked fluids around and around -- too fast for her to see more than a blur, too -- "I need you," he says again, because he's rapidly running out of things to say which mean as *much* --

"It's all right, it's -- fuck, *moving* me --"

Just back to the foot of the bed, just enough to place her back on her feet and spread her --

"*Kal* --"

"I first -- I made love to only one man for three years --"

"*Batman* --"

"Yes," Kal says, and slicks her at speed, noting the tightness, the relative *lack* of welcome --

And the heat. The perfect --

He stretches her, knowing that she can feel only pressure and his own heat, knowing that it must seem to come from *all* sides --

"You -- what --"

"I'm -- stretching you. Much too fast."

"It feels -- I don't *know* how that feels, Kal --"

He breathes deep. "Your arousal is growing once more, though I cannot say whether that has more to do with the sensations... or the fact that I'm using my powers with you this way --"

Lois' laugh is bright again, beautiful and high again -- "Don't -- stop --"

"I will not --"

"You -- you want to share me with *Batman*?"

And Bruce. "Yes. He is... warm. Loving. Kind and beautiful. When we make love, I know I'm the only one he sees --"

Lois grunts and clenches --

"Do -- do *that*, yes --"

"Kal --"

"Shh," he says, because it feels right, because he wants to -- he works his fingers against her resistance, pressing and *forcing* --

She shudders and *claws* the bed -- and that sound is her biting her lip again, *trying* to stay quiet --

"Beautiful. Always so beautiful -- and your personalities --"

"I'm not *nice* --"

Kal leans in and shoves his tongue in her ear --

She growls and clenches --

She shouts and *shivers* --

Kal pulls back and begins to twist his fingers, to push -- "He can be very sharp, clever and -- he's never cruel, but he knows how to be *with* the cruel. He's never awkward -- and one of our other lovers is even better, even more --"

"*Kal* --"

"I want. I want to give you his name. I want to hear you *shout* his name --"

"Fuck, *who* --"

"I *can't*, Lois, but I..." He works her open steadily, taking her shudders --

Her cries --

She is not tearing -- she isn't even close to that -- but she's taking his two fingers easily. The benefits of experience, and he remembers the way Bruce had laid himself out that night, the way --

His body had been everything, hair and muscle and the scars he was developing from the *work*.

Clark had tracked him to the jungles of Brazil, where he was teaching himself about poisons and traditional remedies, about ritual and superstition, about *people* --

The tent had been large, but it had *felt* small with the two of them in it, felt close and hot, felt --

Every *breath* was portentous, and Clark could smell Bruce's desire for him, Bruce's need for Clark to take --

("Give this to me, my love...")

And he'd wanted --

("*Take* it for yourself.")

So *badly* --

("When your control slips... mine will be there.")

Kal groans and wonders if Lex would ever want *either* of them in that position, if there's any way for him to beg that *well* -- "His name -- his self. He's powerful, brilliant, funny, *dominant* --"

"*Stop* --"

Kal winces in *fear*, but forces himself to stop his fingers --

"No! I just -- don't -- don't fucking *tease* me with your *secrets*."

Kal gasps. Is that --

Had he --

"I'm sorry. I want. I want you so badly, all of you, every moment --"

Lois moans and nods. "Okay, that's -- but you have to *tell* --"

"Lois --"

"You know everything *about* me!"

"Lois... you. You're right. And I am not so strong as you. Not yet," Kal says, and begins *taking* her more than he's stretching --

"Oh, *God* --"

"I am *weak* and -- and *frightened*." Clark? Is he? Could --

He doesn't know, and he doesn't know how to *deal* with blurred lines, the need that crosses over, through --

"*Soon*, Lois..."

She nods frantically, working her hips to try to find the rhythm --

"Not *yet*," and he stills her with his free hand --

She shouts and growls, *strains* --

And Kal knows what that means. He --

It's still too *soon*, but --

Not that much too soon. He pulls out too fast for her to be able to feel it and guides himself to her anus. This he'll do --

Slowly --

"Fuck, so -- I forgot you could be *hotter* --"

"Lois --"

"You -- feels like you could *burn* me -- *in* --"

"*Lois* --"

"I need you, Kal --"

Kal grunts and pushes the head in --

Lois whines and clenches -- "Bigger. You -- but of course you --" She groans and tilts her head back, clearing her airways so she can breathe deeply --

And the feel of her loosening for him --

She *needs* him --!

He can -- he must -- "I'll never -- never *deny* --"

"Kal. Kal. Kal -- oh, *fuck*, yes, so -- that *burn* --"

"Your pleasure. The scent of you --"

"*Your* pleasure," and she clenches again, holds him --

He wants to move. The urge to rock is --

It's a need, just that fast, and so he's doing it, stroking himself with her inner surfaces, losing himself to her textures, her need --

Too much stimulation *there* makes her pain spike. Friction *there* makes her grunt over and over --

No, that's him, that's --

He can't stop. He can't --

"Is -- is --" She moans and tosses her head --

"*Ask* --"

"I -- does Batman. Do this to you?"

"*Yes* --"

"And you *like* it --"

"Love, Lois. Always -- he can't *hurt* me unless he uses kryptonite --"

She cries out for that, shakes, reaches back to *beat* at the hand he has on her hip --

"Lois --"

"That -- *dangerous*!"

Kal blinks, and the Clark in him is already laughing *desperately*, but --

"I'm *serious* --"

"Lois. Are you... casting stones?" And that had come out almost breathlessly, quirked in *tone* as Kal fought back laughter --

Lois coughs and *snorts* --

"I'm -- mm. Only checking --"

"When *I* have -- have a life-threatening kink --"

"Like making love to aliens with unknowable powers...?"

Lois squawks, hits him again --

Kal flexes his penis just to *see* --

"*Unh* -- fuck, I -- you -- yes, please --"

He does it again and she hits him.

Again and she *claws* at him --

He begins to thrust more forcefully, more ---

"Oh -- *Christ* --"

And the scent of her pleasure spikes and rises like heat haze, making Kal float to follow it -- and to change the angle until he can find *every* sensitive --

She growls and tries to follow him up on her toes --

He thrusts her back down again --

*Again* --

She opens her mouth to say something -- but begins to grunt rhythmically, to whine and toss her head more. In this, perhaps, everyone becomes something animal, wild and *needy* for more and more --

And Kal realizes that he's holding himself somewhat apart again, that he's letting himself hear and smell and see and taste -- but not quite touch. Not --

He opens himself cautiously --

Slick. Warm.

Slick and *clenching* --

Slick and opening for every -- every push --

And she's crying out for him, for this -- no, he's taking her faster, he's -- hurting? The pain isn't spiking, but it's *there*, and perhaps that's what keeps her from her --

"*Kal* --"

Pleasure. *Needed* pleasure, because he can't simply take this --

"Please *come* --!"

And part of that is begging for *relief*, which is more than enough reason to place his relatively clean fingers against the head of her clitoris and vibrate them --

Noise for him then, loud and --

She's bucking and he can't --

No, he *owes* her his openness, and so he only controls himself enough not to thrust so hard he injures her when she bucks. The rest --

Her heat is rising subtly. Her scent is anything *but* subtle, and she's dripping blood and ejaculate, slicking his fingers so much that the friction might not be *intense* enough --

She *shrieks* --

She does it again --

Her clenches are arrhythmic and *fast* --

"Oh, *God*, Kal, no -- *no* --"

"*Lois* --"

"You -- it's too much, it's -- please, *Kal* --"

"Should I *stop* --"

She laughs then, breathless and *lost* --

She *croons* --

And Kal realizes that he'd started thrusting *harder*. He growls and uses a corner of the sheet to wipe away her fluids from her clitoris --

Another squawk --

And rhythmic grunts when he alternates vibration with light slaps --

"You -- you'll *force* me --"

"To *come*, Lois --"

"*You* --"

"Soon --"

"Don't -- God, Kal, don't make me *wait* anymore --"

Kal blinks -- and sweat becomes steam when it drips in front of his eye. "You -- *Lois* --"

"Hnh -- hnh hnh hnh --"

That sound, that --

For *this* touch, and the way he keeps adjusting his thrusts, keeps --

He's holding himself *back* again, and the part of him which is confused about why is dim and *slow*. With Bruce and Lex -- they know everything *about* him and his powers. They may not be any more capable of monitoring them while in extremis than any other human, but it *feels* as though they are.

Lois knows only what Bruce and Lex had allowed Clark to share with the press. Lois is so *vulnerable* --

And so much more important than any of the women he'd made love to -- and never *with* -- in college --

"It's hard. It -- I'm not holding back entirely by *choice* --"

"*Please* --" And her voice is rough and *strained*, she --

He increases the vibration and *slowly* slides his fingers back toward the entrance of her vagina --

And the bucking gains intensity, *purposeful* intensity that makes Kal --

He has to push in.

He has to *take* with hand and penis --

And everything crumbles away when she shrieks again, when her body gains the rigidity of some pale *wood* as she squeezes her eyes shut --

As she clenches around him with every internal muscle she can bring to play --

As her cries get louder and *louder* in her pleasure --

Everything is *lost* for a moment which lasts too long. He can't hear anything but the pound of his own heart --

He can't *smell* her --

Everything is gone but the fire of this moment. The sights feel more like snapshots than anything else. It --

His hand on the back of her neck.

Her flushed cheek against the sheets.

Her open mouth --

Her --

Oh, the clench, the --

Rhythmic again, and she --

She wasn't supposed to gain control again so *quickly*. There's a *part* of him which honestly only wants to drag Kal back from the *brink*, and he *loathes* it, but it's the part which can reason, which is keeping him from tearing her or *worse* --

Everything else is something he can visit, something -- right now, because *that* *tightness* means that his body is ready to --

"*Lois* --!"

She releases him --

"No, *please* --"

She cries out and clenches again --

And Kal listens to himself grunt, spends himself with one desperate, spasming spurt after another --

Oh, to *fill* her --

"Oh, *Kal* --"

("Yes. Yes, like -- oh, *Clark* --")

And Clark is shivering, trembling like a child within Kal. Kal is bellowing and wishing the AI would be less *adamant* about not teaching him Kryptonian *curses* --

There had to have been *some* --

He brings himself together with internal laughter -- and lets that laughter out when he's sure he can do it without *jarring* himself so much that he'd need to thrust more.

He can feel that he had not torn Lois, but the flesh inside is quite raw. This -- it must end. For now.

Lois pants. "Share the joke?"

"I know no Kryptonian curses."

"What? Seriously?"

"The AI sent with me to this planet was designed to be used -- primarily -- by a young child. I've reprogrammed it enough that it *mostly* treats me as an adult, but on some things it remains... firm."

Lois snorts --

Clenches --

"*Ooh* -- uh. Fuck. You could always say that. Fuck, I mean. Oh -- God, my head is *spinning*."

"You still have cocaine in your system, and now you are fatigued, as well."

"Um. About that."

Kal strokes Lois' back, her waist and hips -- "One moment," he says, and lifts her carefully against him, turning her in the air before laying them down on their sides. "I need this, as well."

Lois snorts. "I was just going to tell you not to worry about taking *advantage* of me in my hour of *need* -- but maybe you should."

"You're objecting to being cuddled?"

"You're eight feet tall and nine hundred *degrees*, you -- lummox," and she sounds thoughtful.

Perhaps dangerously thoughtful, considering --

"I call someone else that."

"Ah... do you?"

"Someone big, tall, hot to the touch, and inclined toward the kind of verbal *filler* that *Kal-El* really *isn't*," and she shifts --

He catches her arm before she can elbow him in the ribs -- "Lois --"

"*Clark*?"

"Ah -- I'm afraid you --"

She pulls away, crying out sharply when Kal's penis slips out --

Clark's penis --

Superman's penis? No, no, Superman doesn't really *have* a penis. Not one good, right-thinking people like to think about, anyway, and that's why he doesn't *have* to wear a dance belt, and --

In his mind, Bruce *and* Lex are raising eyebrows at him just as if he'll *always* be fifteen... and inclined to verbal filler.

At least he'd managed to get 'jeez' out of his vocabulary -- mostly --

And Lois is glaring at him *while* studying him. "It's really you."

"Lois --"

"You -- no glasses, s-curl..." She frowns and tucks Clark's forelock back into the rest of his hair.

It pops back out. "So you see --"

"You use *gel*, you ass!"

Clark smiles sheepishly --

"Oh my *God*! Go get me some kryptonite from your boyfriend *right* now --"

"He really does -- he's always preferred the term 'lover.' Lois... do you wish for me to apologize? Or... leave?"

She narrows her eyes and pinches his nose between her knuckles before doing her level best to twist it off.

"Um. Lois --"

"*Damn* it!"

"I --"

"Damn *you*!"

Clark winces -- and catches her fist before she can punch him. "There's only so much I can do to make my face soft enough to punch safely --"

She growls at him.

Clark lets go and flies up and away from the bed. "Lois -- I wanted -- I've wanted you for so long --"

"You *lied* to me!"

"Yes, I -- I'm sorry --"

"All of that -- *dommy* stuff. That was all just --"

"Er -- what? I mean... no. It wasn't. There is... there are different sides --"

"To your *personality*? Then how come I never *saw* any of that?"

Clark licks his lips -- he's still hovering. He drops down to the floor. "I tried very hard -- ah. I didn't want to risk my secrets."

She throws her water glass at him --

Clark catches it before it shatters and puts it on the opposite table. "Lois -- there are other secrets than my own which need to be protected --"

"Like fucking *Batman's* -- now who do you know in Gotham who's tall, dark, and creepy? Oh, I know, Bruce fucking *Wayne*, who's supposed to be one of the scariest people in the world once you get to --" Lois clicks her teeth shut and stares at him.

Clark winces. That party Bruce had invited him to --

It had made Lois so *curious* --

And Lois stands up on the bed and stalks closer until she's towering over him, until --

There are bruises on her hips, her breasts -- "Lois. You know that you can never --"

"Say one fucking word? Yes, I *do* know -- God, the walls of this apartment are too *thin* --"

"Your words won't carry to the average human, but your tone always will."

Lois glares down at him and puts her hands on her hips --

And then she closes her eyes and sighs out tension -- it doesn't seem to make her happier in the slightest.

"Lois... please tell me what I can say, what I can *do* --"

"Batman is your -- lover."

"Yes."

"And so is -- Lex Luthor, right? Everybody knows he and Wayne have been screwing since *forever*."

"Since they were eighteen. They first made love not long after I first made love with Bruce -- on a visit to Smallville."

She narrows her eyes again. "They keep you a secret."

"Yes."

"How do *you* feel about that?"

Clark smiles ruefully. "It allows me to have a life apart from them. A life *here*... with you near."

She gasps in a breath through her nose -- "Clark..."

"I meant... every word of what I said. I've been reading your articles since my first day at Metropolis University. I... Lex often teases me about how sappy I can be, but he's never teased me about you."

Lois frowns and crosses her arms under her breasts, turning away --

"Please, Lois --"

"I still want my interview."

"Of course --"

"God, *Clark* --" She growls and glares at him again. "There was supposed to be a man or two in my life I could be friends with. *Equals* with --"

"We -- I've always considered you --"

"Your *equal*? Is that what you were --" Lois groans and briefly and pinches the bridge of her own nose. "I know you don't -- I know you haven't --"

Clark flies up enough to meet her eyes before taking her hands in his own. "Please. Let me be your friend. Let me -- let me *introduce* you to my other friends --"

"Bruce Wayne and Lex Luthor."

And, perhaps, a girl named Jessica. "Yes. We can..." Clark laughs softly. "You know everything now. We tend to keep people like that very close."

"What did you do with Luthor and his lieutenants during the raid?"

"I put them in stasis boxes in the Fortress of Solitude."

Her jaw... drops. "You *kidnapped* them?"

"Yes. Green Lantern is very upset with me. Bruce... Bruce would've done things a different way if I'd allowed him any room for doubt that it was necessary."

"*Why* was it necessary? What was he planning?"

Clark shakes his head. "I still don't know, save for the fact that it would've endangered children. I overheard a discussion about it between Luthor and Orr, the --"

"His pet assassin, yes, I *know*. I -- *speaking* of pet assassins --"

"Mercy and Hope have trained extensively in many schools of martial arts. They're both expert markswomen. Neither of them have taken a life since Lex hired them --"

"But before then?"

Oh, *Lois* -- he kisses her knuckles *quickly* -- "There are conversations I choose not to overhear... especially since Hope and Mercy have been pivotal in saving Lex's life over the years."

She frowns down at her hands in Clark's own. "Luthor and Wayne... they decide what you're going to say when, don't they?"

"No! I mean -- sometimes, they help me with polish, with -- well." Clark smiles ruefully again. "We both know how important image can be."

She tugs her hands free and crosses her arms once more, and --

Clark believes he can understand. "Superman was supposed to be above that."

"*Kal* was -- is -- fuck, Clark, I don't know --"

"I am only a man, Lois."

"You're *not* --"

"I was raised on a small farm in Kansas by two people who taught me how to be a good person at the exact same time they were teaching me how to lie to protect myself."

She rears back slightly -- then flares her nostrils and lifts her chin. "Are you blaming your parents for this?"

"No, Lois. I'm blaming myself. I couldn't..." He shakes his head. "I try to live by *all* of my principles, but some of those principles conflict. Those are... grey spaces, I suppose. Add that to the rather distressing split in my identity -- I *am* Clark Kent, I *am* Superman, and I *am* Kal-El -- and you get very large grey spaces, indeed. They were murky and dangerous things within me... until Lex and Bruce taught me how to control and *use* them."

"They took your inner country boy out back and shot him?"

"Hardly. You know my inner country boy *very* well, after all. He's still real *enough* --"

"You're not fumbling and blushing --"

"But I want to very badly. I've decided that it's better, for now, that I stay focused and clear, *coherent* --"

"If you can *decide* to be coherent, then the *incoherence* wasn't *real* --"

"I disagree. Quite -- quite vehemently, actually. I decide all the time what aspects of myself to show and when to show them. Superman *can't* have the full range of emotion, and so Clark and Kal *must*. Without that -- I believe I'd go crazy, Lois. I *know* I would. I let myself feel *everything*, even awkwardness and shame --"

"That kind of control is --" Lois snaps her teeth shut again and blushes.

Clark closes his eyes for a few seconds. When he opens them, he shows Lois everything he feels. "I *am* inhuman, Lois. But I try not to let that keep me from humanity."

"Who *are* you right now?"

"I... feel myself to be Clark more than anyone else, but I have to admit that the lines have blurred." Clark laughs softly. "Kal never made love with anyone before."

Lois blinks rapidly -- "But Clark did. And... Superman?"

"Clark has had all of the lovers. Superman... I believe I would feel very foul and soiled if I ever tried to make love as Superman."

"Because he's a lie?"

"Because he lies as a matter of course, for the sake of the Mission and his image. Both are good causes in their way, but it's not a comfortable skin to wear."

Lois frowns again, reaches out -- and stops herself before she can touch his temple. "Are there other reasons why you don't spend time with your lovers?"

"Yes. I can't -- I have to help when there are people in need. As much as I can. People are *always* in need in Gotham, but even the few times Superman has worked there brought metahuman criminals in his wake. Bruce has enough to deal with already. And... there's a project Lex and Bruce have been working on in various ways for the past decade that I wanted no part of."

"You changed your mind?"

Clark calls up the taste of Tim's penis, the scent of Jessica's vulva -- he smiles again. "The results are difficult to argue with -- and a proprietary secret at the moment."

"Why the hell didn't you use your contacts to get on the *business* beat?"

"Um. I don't suppose you'd lose more respect for me if I said I found that sort of thing dreadfully dull?"

Lois' frown is -- well, he hadn't thought the humor was *that* out of place --

"Lois?"

"Why is none of this *printable*?"

"Ah --"

Lois growls and paces around on top of the bed. Her mattresses are firm enough to allow for that sort of thing -- hm.

"Lois --"

"*What*?"

"Why do you have two mattresses?"

"Because I'm a *princess*," she says, and kicks the rumpled sheets onto the floor. There's blood and semen running down her inner thighs, her bruises seem almost bright, her hair is a mess, and she is --

"You're the most beautiful woman I've ever known."

"Oh -- shut *up* --"

"All right --"

"Except *don't*, because -- fucking *hell*, Clark, what am I supposed to do with this?"

Clark opens his mouth -- and closes it again. He --

"And don't just shake your *head* at me, damn it! *Say* something!"

"I can tell you what I don't want you to do. I've already told you what I want more than anything else. I can't tell you what you *should* do --"

"Yes, you *can*! That's -- you're --"

"I am myself," Kal says, and lets his eyes flare --

"Oh -- fuck --"

"Come home with me, Lois. Come to my *true* homes, and I will show you everything, *teach* you everything, give you everything I can -- including the companionship of people who can give you even more than that. Put aside your fears and doubts --"

"I *can't* --"

"You *can*," and Kal lets that be a growl, flies close and hovers near, over --

He looms, and he cups Lois' beautiful face --

"*Lois*," and he kisses her firmly, smelling pain spark -- not spike -- for the crush of her swollen lips, tasting fear and pleasure at once --

He kisses her deeply --

He kisses her *hotly*, and lets himself sweat more, gives her the scent of his body, his *continuing* arousal --

She pulls back and gasps -- "Kal --"

"Allow me to convince you --"

"You giving me *orders* isn't going to work, *either*."

Kal cocks his head to the side at human speed --

"Fuck --"

"You were not being entirely honest, frightened one --"

"Frightened -- fuck you, of *course* I'm frightened --"

"Of your reactions, not of me," Kal says, nodding to himself and lifting Lois close, sliding her body against his own --

"More -- it's more than that --"

"No," and he nibbles his way across her cheek, giving himself a moment of subjective time to decide whether he loves or loathes her makeup --

He's not sure. He --

"No," he says again, and moves her back enough that she can look into his eyes. "You don't let fear rule you --"

"There's an exception to every fucking *rule*, Kal --"

"And you did not feel this *much* fear when you were faced with a room full of gunmen and knew your life was forfeit unless I was close enough to hear you. You know your life isn't in danger now --"

"My -- the *rest* of me is --"

"Yes, that," Kal says, and holds her up with a hand under her buttocks --

"*Oh* --"

"You are in danger of changing your mind about something fundamental -- perhaps about --"

Princess. And Lois is --

("Some of us are now and will always *be* Daddy's Little Girl, Clark.")

And the new amethyst pendant had caught the light in shades of purple which matched the undertones of her eyes --

Oh, Lois. Is that why? Is that *how*?

"What? Perhaps about *what*?" And she's searching him, studying him *deeply*, fearfully -- and somewhat resentfully.

She knows what he's going to say.

"Lois... you are allowed to trust me. You -- there can be more than one person --"

She growls at him --

He sets her down on her feet again and places her hand on his chest, lets him feel his heart beating --

"Oh..."

"For you, frightened one --"

"Don't -- don't *call* me that!" And the scent of her fear begins flowing away, pushed back and overpowered by anger, determination --

Kal smiles. "Lois."

"What -- you want me to just *go* with this, despite the fact that my friend of *years* has been playing a fucking double-game --"

"I never knew you *considered* me a friend," Clark says --

"God, and the way -- even the way you hold your *face* changes. What the *fuck*, Clark?"

"It's only... ah. Bruce always says that it has something to do with where -- and how -- each aspect of my personality holds his tension? Or something. I've never quite... well, it's always seemed rather *numinous*."

"Numin-- *you* told me you could see fucking *auras*, Clark!"

"Well, yes. They're right *there*. This 'energy' business is something else entirely."

She looks at him like --

Like she wants to slap him but isn't sure how to do it in such a way to make an impact. Hm. "You know, Lois, it always stings when something hits me in the eye."

She jabs him there.

"Ouch."

She frowns --

"That wasn't satisfying?"

"It -- should've been more of a surprise."

Clark nods. "I'm sorry --"

She waves a hand and crosses her arms under her breasts once more --

She tenses and moves her hands back down to her sides --

She pushes her hands back through her hair --

And Clark offers his own hands, palms forward and fingers splayed.

"Your hands --" She cuts herself off and shakes her head.

"Yes, Lois?"

"I don't want to know if your hands will feel different now," she says, and smiles up at him ruefully.

"Ah... Clark Kent does his best to soften them... but I usually don't."

"You *are* Clark Kent!"

Clark smiles ruefully again. "In *most* ways, yes, but... I *did* say that there were choices I made --"

"Choices no *human* could." She licks her lips --

She stops and laughs, febrile and somehow *old* --

"And if I *wanted* a fucking human..." She sighs and twines their fingers together --

And everything and everyone *in* Clark takes a breath and smiles, wants, wants to *dance* --

"My fucking *God*, that's a sappy look, Smallville."

"I -- hm. I could try to do better --"

"It's how you feel."

"I'm rather *invested* in making you *happy*, Lois --"

"Then don't lie to me. Don't --" Lois smiles and shakes her head. "What do I even *count* as a lie with you?"

"That which I don't truly feel. That which makes me cringe inside to say -- or not say --"

"Then -- never fucking *cringe* --"

"Yes, Lois."

"And -- always feel," she says, and licks her lips again. She's looking at him with fear in her eyes, but there's also so much *hope*, and humor, and something like self-deprecation --

"Yes, Lois," he says again, and lifts her hands to his mouth, one at a time. He kisses her lightly-scarred knuckles and wonders what sort of clothes Lex will want to dress her in.

She already looks beautiful all the time, but Lex is *particular* --

Well, if she doesn't like his choices, she might just jab *him* in the eye -- and, with Lois' judo and tae kwon do, that could be a spar worth watching. And lusting over. And --

"Where did you just go, Clark?"

"Ah... imagining you sparring with Lex, actually. And wondering what sort of clothes he'd want to buy for you."

"You -- what's wrong with my *clothes*?"

"Nothing! It's just that Lex likes to dress people when he can. It's one of his favorite hobbies, and the fact that I can't let him dress me makes him... well. He seethes about it."

"*Seethes*?"

"Yes. He. There's a little vein on his forehead which starts to throb whenever he sees me in my Clark Kent clothes. I try to always go to Gotham in the Superman uniform -- which he approved of, if with bad grace -- and, if I need to change, he has clothes for me there."

"*Does* he sleep in Wayne manor ever? Nobody has *pictures*."

"Yes. He has a bedroom of his own there, and sometimes he shares Bruce's. He also has two bedrooms in Wayne Tower."

"Why *isn't* it B-L Tower?"

Clark squeezes Lois' hands gently --

She frowns. "Am I asking too many questions?"

"No, I -- I don't know why I --" But that's not true. Clark smiles *sheepishly*. "I think... I think I want you to ask *them*. I want to hear you do it, and to hear their answers to your questions, and --"

"All *right*, Clark," she says, and snorts. "I... we can try that."

"Oh -- soon?"

"As soon as I don't feel like *this*. I --" She tugs her hands away and jumps nimbly down to the floor. "I want a shower. And a trip to the hair-dresser. And maybe a stop by Freeman-Gaius for a few new outfits --"

"Oh, but --"

She holds up a quelling hand.

"Ah... Bruce is very good at styling hair. Mercy and Hope often allow him to do theirs, when they can stand being around him."

Lois blinks slowly and repeatedly. "He... *why* can't they stand him -- or is that another question you want me to ask them?"

"Well, Hope and Mercy can be terribly uncommunicative with everyone save Lex... ah. I believe they feel that Bruce is dangerously emotional."

Lois snorts again. "And *they're* at least supposed to be sociopaths --"

"I believe only Hope is a sociopath --"

"Are you *serious*?"

"I've -- hm. I've never been entirely comfortable with the idea of trying to diagnose Mercy."

She frowns at him.

He tucks a lock of her hair behind her ear. "I can understand not wanting to come right away, but... I'm very eager."

She reaches up and cups his cheek. "For future reference, Smallville? If I don't like someone, then I don't *talk* to them. For *anything*. Unless I have to. And then I make sure it's over with as soon as possible."

And that --

In retrospect --

Clark blushes. "Ah. I. I honestly believed --"

"I know."

"That you --"

"I *know*," Lois says, and it's hard to be sure whether she's patting his cheek or simply slapping it lightly and repeatedly --

No, it isn't. "I'm often... less intelligent than I could be. I'm sorry."

She narrows her eyes shrewdly --

"Ah... yes?"

"Kal isn't stupid."

"Well, if you think of -- we're all really one --"

"*Kal* isn't stupid and *is* confident."

"Sometimes, I... hm."

She raises an eyebrow.

"I... need to spend more time thinking about the rifts within me," Clark says, and takes her hand in both of his own. "I already know I'll be asking for help."

"Do you want my advice, Clark...?"

"Oh -- yes, please --"

"Stop being an *idiot*!"

"Um?"

She takes her hand back and shoves him with it. "You may feel awkward and embarrassed sometimes, but you have other ways to *show* that. You may have to be less of... of a *man* in order to be Superman, but when you're not doing anything else... When you're with *me*, Clark? You give me the real you. You give me *this*. You were *upset* earlier because... what? You couldn't decide who to be with me?"

"I -- yes. I could see that you desired Kal --"

"I don't need him all the *time*."

"You -- oh. Lois --"

"*Yes*, damn it -- and we can negotiate. But... you have to leave room to be all of yourself sometimes. You -- tell me you *know* that."

Clark searches her, her deep blue eyes that shade to violet, her swollen mouth *held* tense, the *plea* in her eyes -- "It's only... I didn't understand the parts of me which were Kal until -- I didn't *start* understanding them until I was eighteen."

She blinks. "You -- what? How?"

Clark smiles ruefully. "My parents didn't tell me I was an alien until I was fourteen. I didn't translate the Kryptonian and learn how to activate the AI until I was *eighteen*. This -- it's very new, Lois. I'm... perhaps I'll be less divided as I age? I promise that I'll work on it." For -- "For you --"

"For *yourself*, Kal! I... I spent too much time trying to be a good daughter to *both* of my parents, but they wanted such different things --" Lois swallows and crosses her arms again. "I still feel fucking *guilty* for ignoring my mother's wishes -- "

"Oh, no, Lois --"

"*Yes*. She wanted me to be like *Lucy*, for Christ's sake. I -- that could never *work*. I don't even know why my parents got *married*," she says, and laughs humorlessly.

"Ah... love is strange?"

She snorts and punches his jaw -- lightly.

"Oof?"

She snorts *again* --

And they smile together. *Together* --

Clark leans in to nuzzle her temple, breathe in the scent of sweat and conditioner --

"Clark."

"Um. Yes, Lois?"

She reaches up and cups his shoulders, leaning back enough to meet his eyes once more -- "I'm right about this. You can't -- nobody should try to serve more than one master in their minds, Clark."

Clark blinks. He hadn't really *thought* of it that way... hm. "And... outside of one's mind?"

*Lois* blinks. "What? You -- you're saying that Lex doms you, too."

"Today... today was the first time for that. It was incredible. I hope he'll want to do it more... well. He told me he would, but I've wanted him for so long --"

"He was only hooking up with Bruce before? And -- what *about* the women he's been connected to?"

"You... you've paid a lot of attention to Bruce and Lex? I mean, yes, I believe Lex prefers making love to women just in general --"

"Hn. *Now* you're jealous? No, you've *said* that you were jealous -- even when I didn't *know* them. What the hell is *that* about?"

"Ah... well. It was, for the most part, much easier to imagine you making love with either one of them than it was to imagine you making love with me --"

"Whose fault is *that*?"

Clark smiles ruefully. "Mine, of course."

She narrows her eyes at him.

"I'm really... I really am quite *dim* --"

"When you *let* yourself be."

"There are... comforts," Clark says, and drops to his knees to kiss her mound --

"*Clark* --"

"I'm sorry. Your scent is -- and I -- you're wonderful and quite, quite correct. It's just that I need to see you with my other lovers, and I need to know --"

"I had to know *you*, you lummox! Bruce Wayne sent you an *engraved invitation* to that party two years ago."

Yes, that. Clark laughs. "Lex scolded us both quite dramatically for that. We were supposed to be better at looking only *vaguely* connected."

Lois shoves a hand into Clark's hair, grips, and forces Clark to look up. "Lex calls the shots."

"Ah... often. Though there is a great deal of discussion, and both of us have... hm... veto power, I suppose. Lex just happens to be the one of us best suited for figuring out humanity's... twists and turns."

Lois raises an eyebrow. "Not Batman?"

"Not... all the time. We've all had... somewhat awkward and difficult childhoods. Lex was the one of us who used that difficulty to *learn*. Well, who managed it best."

Lois nods thoughtfully. "All right. I'll tell you when I want you to bring me... home."

Clark smiles. "Thank you."

"And, yes, it'll be soon."

Clark tugs against Lois' grip -- Lois doesn't relent, and so Clark sits back.

Lois stares at him for a long moment before laughing. "I never thought of you -- *any* of you -- as a *switch*."

"Ah... surprise?"

Lois snickers and lets go --

And Clark flies them into her bathroom, turning on the water and holding her still while it warms.

"Oh, *really*, Clark?"

Clark lets his eyes flare -- for a moment. "I'm due in Gotham in a little over two hours. It only takes me two minutes to fly there from here."

Lois lifts her chin --

Clark leans in to kiss her throat at human speed, just to see --

"No," she says, sharply and firmly. "On your knees in the tub."

Clark's penis twitches *joyously* -- "Yes, Lois."

*

Many, many, *many* humans -- and otherwise -- are woefully stupid. Case in point:

Not one of the people he's introduced Jessica to as Mercy's business-minded niece have even *blinked*, despite the fact that it's foolish beyond *words* to imagine that Mercy had left any members of her family alive.

On the other side of things is the fact that most people would be stunned *breathless* to know that *Hope* still *has* living family members -- several of them, even -- despite the fact that she really only *itches* to kill people when they pose a threat to Lex or Mercy.

People are stupid.

Jess...

Jess has spent the afternoon reading over Lionel-related press releases Lex has issued over the years, noting the language used, the ambiguities... everything.

She has asked intelligent questions.

She has offered sympathy -- but only from behind her beautiful eyes, because she could tell that Lex couldn't quite take more than that.

She has offered wonderful *suggestions* -- some of which Lex has implemented in the press release he's crafting for *today's* --

Well, no, it wasn't a cock-up, at all. The fact that Lex has *usually* only had to come up with things like this after events which had involved him or Bruce or Clark -- or all three of them -- being in mortal *danger*... well.

Today...

Today, it was *their* show, start to finish, and, yes, if he's not *ruthlessly* careful, this release will sound more like his little speeches to the B-L shareholders -- full of triumph and cheerful *threat* -- than anything reasonable in light of the fact that his father's business was apparently just *riddled* with criminality.

Who *knew*?

Jess hums.

When Lex looks up, she's looking at *him* from across the desk. Her legs are crossed at the knee, there's an open file in her lap, and her gaze is... invitingly amused. "Yes, darling?"

She strokes a line across the paper she's currently perusing. "You looked somewhat... predatory."

"I often do."

She hums again -- and colors. Not blushes. That's... different.

"Jess. What can I do to convince you to sit on my lap for a while?"

She raises an eyebrow -- and, yes, *that's* a blush.

"Please," Lex says, leaning back and pushing away from the desk.

"You -- you're not *that* much bigger than I am --"

"Did you think I would treat you like a child?"

Jess' lips part -- and then she squeaks as her eyes cross.

"A clench?"

Jess hums and glares at him good-naturedly. "Why ask when you already know?"

"To see how you choose to answer, of course," Lex says, and strokes a hard line down his thigh. "If you were on my lap, I could give you that feeling anytime I wanted to."

"And that's incentive?"

Lex inclines his head.

"We --" Jess shakes her head. "Let's go to the *lab*, Lex."

That -- Lex shakes himself like a dog because he has to. "I believe I just experienced something like emotional whiplash."

Jess hums and uncrosses her legs before setting the file down and standing. "Yes, I imagine so. It's not -- ah. I'd like some assurance that I'll be able to keep having... this."

Yes, *that*. "I would, as well -- I wasn't expecting Clark to come up with the world's best solution to the problem of Lionel Luthor today. Well, second-best solution," Lex says, and sets his notes down --

Someday, he *will* live in a world where computers aren't too limited and balky to take the kind of notes he needs them to *directly* --

He moves to Jess and cups her face, leaning in to smell his toothpaste on her breath, his most feminine cologne on her throat -- beneath the high-collared and fashionably oversized button-down --

"Lex..."

"That was... a rather lovely sigh," he says, and nuzzles her mouth --

She kisses him only once, and it's brief. "Lex."

Lex closes his eyes, smiles to himself, and stands straight. "Forgive me. I'm in a constant state of conflict over whether I want to build more memories of you or bury myself in attempts to ensure that I'll always be able to *have* you."

"Even if you get -- Tom."

"Even then," Lex says, and strokes her cheekbones, looks her over --

The shirt is a blue too cowardly to be lavender, but it brings out the *grey* in her eyes. The leggings she's wearing are just tight enough to make her legs show their athleticism, their lovely shape --

"You're stunning. Let's go."

She looks at him from under her lashes -- and gestures for him to lead the way.

Once in the lab -- well.

Lex sighs. He should've known that an order to do their jobs *badly* wouldn't work. The place is pristine, and the physicists are all wandering around looking *industrious* --

No, one of them -- Jameson, who has been growing that lush beard since he was seventeen, and who had campaigned for a freezer full of frozen novelties for the lab, and for chocolate-covered bananas to be put *in* it -- had managed to get a magazine up in front of his face before Lex walked in. He's peering at Lex from over it.

It's upside-down.

Lex sighs and points at him. "Report."

"Ah! Well. The Machine seems to be... down? Still --"

"Is it? Is it really?"

Jameson winces. "No. It... it really only took -- it was a small fire, and none of the essential systems were damaged."

"And what have you and the others been doing since the Machine has been fixed?"

"Well. We. Nothing?"

Lex shakes his head slowly.

Jameson's beard quivers.

"I'm not angry with you."

"Oh! Well. It's very interesting, Mr. Luthor. As near as we've been able to discern, there was a *resonance* when you activated the Machine, almost as if it was connecting to something else. We've been looking for ways to discover how to track the resonance down."

Something... else. Hm. A power? Or simply another mad scientist? "Have you had any success?"

"No --"

"Jameson."

"Yes? I'm sorry, Mr. Luthor, it's just that it's a fascinating tool for -- for all sorts of things, and we haven't been peering into the future or anything like that --"

"Did you give the Machine the capacity to do that?"

"No! I -- ah. We decided it would be too tempting."

Which... well. It's better than the people he has working in Cadmus. Four months ago he'd caught them buying up gorillas in an attempt to train them in *mind* control, based on the malaria-induced hallucinations of Sonia Blakely, who'd spent altogether too much time in sub-Saharan Africa for her yearly vacation.

While his physicists are *dangerously* brilliant and curious-minded, they're also -- for the most part -- quite moral. It could be worse.

"All right, Dr. Jameson. Tell me about your success."

"Well. Well. I know you scrapped the multiverse project for being too time-consuming with too little a chance for success, but Drs. Yee and Feinman figured out that the resonance was coming from a part of Gotham which is -- well, when we all went to investigate --"

"You -- no, carry on."

"Yes, well. It's a *terrible* neighborhood, and there are no signs that anything which *could* create that kind of resonance was there --"

"You didn't consider magic, did you."

Jameson -- huffs. "We *did*. We even brought the ah -- magic-sniffer... thing... uhm. I know we're supposed to ask to use it --"

Lex holds up a hand. "Is it still in one piece?"

"Yes, Mr. Luthor!"

"All right, keep going. You discovered the resonance was in Gotham, but also that it couldn't be. You concluded -- provisionally, I'm assuming -- that the resonance was based in a different Gotham entirely."

"Yes! And -- ah. I believe we may have... found it. We programmed the multiversal transporter with the coordinates and... ah. That's where we were, as of twenty minutes ago."

Lex frowns and studies Jameson. There are dark circles under his eyes, and he's trembling a bit.

The same is true to varying degrees for all the *other* physicists --

"You've been pulling all-nighters."

"No --"

"Jameson."

"Yes. But -- it's only --"

"Are the notes organized?"

"Here, Mr. Luthor," and Graham hands him a file folder with a few rings on it from soda cans, a ring that *must* be from a coffee mug --

It's not especially thick, and when he opens it... yes, it's organized, and written for an intelligent layman. They never forgot they were working *for* him, and --

And.

"Go home, all of you."

"But --"

"We don't --"

"There's so much --"

Lex holds up a hand. "You'll all be receiving bonuses for your work on this project. You'll all also be receiving vacation time, starting *right* now. I need you *rested*, ladies and gentlemen, and that is precisely what you will be. We'll resume work on this once I've *decided* what I want you to do with all of this information. That day? Is not today."

They look... somewhat dejected, actually --

And Jess squeezes his arm.

When he looks, she's giving him an *expectant* look --

Oh, yes.

"Furthermore, I'm impressed by and proud of the work you've all done --"

Jess coughs.

"And -- ah. I'll work on giving less... ambiguous orders."

Smiles all around.

Lex and Jess move to either side of the door, and the physicists file out. All of them give longing looks to their respective consoles and --

Well. He won't make them stay out for more than a week.

"Take a seat, Jess. We're going to figure out where you came from."

"Ah... I was assuming you knew how to do that, but... how are you going to do that?"

"Jameson gave us our answer. Whoever -- or whatever -- caused that damaging resonance which led to our plucking assorted Tims -- and you -- from the multiverse... well, the resonance *won't* have only happened here."

Jess blinks. "You're right. You... well, you're going to be able to find *all* the other Tims."

"Precisely. And, perhaps, be able to make sure that things are going smoothly for them -- though I feel quite secure in thinking that they will. All people of your ever-so-*unique* stripe only ever need *one* push before they're doing all *sorts* of mind-breaking things."

Jess crosses her arms over her chest. It makes the shirt ride up over her leggings, exposing a hip Lex knows is *quite* bruised --

None of these chairs are conducive to lap-sitting, unfortunately. "Yes, darling?"

"How difficult *was* it to make you and Bruce fall in love? Really."

"Are you wondering if we were simply terribly vulnerable young men at the mercy of a traveling incubus?"

Jess coughs again, but this time it's a laugh. "All right, no, you're right. I can't quite wrap my mind around growing into someone who could... do that."

"Never?"

Jess' smile is just a *bit* sharp. "Certainly, it would take a bit more than a year."

And there's something to that. Something --

Lex frowns and considers, wondering --

"Lex...?"

He holds up a finger and lets himself pace. What about that sentence --

More than a year.

More than -- a year.

"I... Jess, I think he lied about his *age*, too."

Jess blinks at him. "Ah... yes?"

Lex smiles and knows it looks savage on his face. "That little *bastard*. He might not have *planned* to pretend to be younger than he was, but once he talked himself into becoming Bruce's *twin* -- but how old could he have *been*?"

"That was my question. Surely... well, no, I *don't* know what I'll look like when I'm an adult, but --"

"His face... thinner than yours. Deeper lines on his forehead. Hm. Hm." Lex stops pacing, and is not in the least surprised to find himself near the console which will let him pull people out of the future -- "We'll figure that out later. For now... insurance."

"If you're sure --"

"Nothing could make me more sure about you, Jess -- and nothing could make me *less*."

Jess swallows, eyes wide --

"Beautiful. Let's play multiverse shuffle."

The physicists *had* -- somehow, along with *everything* else -- gotten the monitor on the multiversal transporter to show more than static. And so --

A Tim in Keystone staring at an image of Bruce on a very advanced-looking computer... and stroking a plane ticket.

A Tim in Star City shuffling through photographs of some improbably blond-haired man with dark skin and startlingly green eyes.

Jess coughs again and covers Lex's eyes.

"Jess --"

"You don't need to know that secret. At least... ah. I don't think so? Um."

"But how do *you* know? You don't live in -- ah. The man is *famous*. Well. He still doesn't get to have Tim --"

"I don't think he *will*. Or -- I don't know. If he has *those* photos, he almost certainly has others."

Lex frowns. "Bruce did say Tom enjoyed photography."

"Ah... 'Tom' almost certainly enjoyed photographing superheroes in their assorted natural habitats. As a child, at least."

Lex turns around --

Jess moves her hand --

"You did that."

Jess nods once.

"That blond man --"

"Stop thinking."

"I don't want Tim to imprint on the *wrong* superhero --"

"He didn't. He *was* originally from Gotham, after all."

"Hm. Is he still --"

"He's putting the photographs away. And taking out a very nice camera. And -- how long are you planning to watch?"

"I have to make sure he's doing the right *thing* --"

"Which is, of course, to come to you and Bruce."

"*Always*. You know that now," Lex says, and cups Jess' throat, lifts her chin on his thumb.

"I -- the alternative is... less than palatable. To be sure."

Lex narrows his eyes.

"You wouldn't *like* me as much if I gave in immediately."

Lex licks his teeth, notes her blush, her soft and still-swollen mouth -- "All too true. I'm going to figure out how to safely get to all of these Tims. I'm going to *teach* them to go where they're needed --"

"And if all the Lexes aren't like you?"

Lex smiles. "Tim -- or Jessica -- can teach *them*. It's a lesson we *all* need to learn."

Jess' lips part -- and she bends to kiss Lex's thumb. "Not today."

Onward, then.

The other Tim from Keystone is *on* the plane to Gotham.

The Tim from that befucked universe is in the Cave, being crushed against a wall by Bruce and thoroughly kissed --

"I think I'd like to try that."

"On unfinished *stone*? Your skin will loathe you, darling."

"I wasn't thinking of that particular... organ."

Lex laughs quietly and pulls her close enough that he can bite her ear, smell his *mark* on her -- "Beautiful darling. I *promise* to convince Bruce to be terribly mean to you in the interest of hardcore fucking."

Jess hums and orders the machine to search for the next resonated universe -- where Tim is wearing a cocktail dress, stockings, heels, and what must be excellent falsies. A gaff, perhaps?

Another black-haired, blue-eyed boy -- fairly tall and broad and obviously inclined toward a slight swagger -- walks within the 'camera's' range and cups Tim's hips from the back --

"Oh. Oh..."

"You're not going to tell me who that is, are you?"

"Ah -- no."

"Even though -- hm. That would have to be another of Bruce's partners, judging by the scars --"

"*Lex*."

Lex winces. "When I won't shut up? You *could* consider just showing me your delightful tits."

Jess snorts -- stops. "Oh, they're talking. Is there a volume on -- wait, no, I can't let you *hear* them --"

"No, you can't. Still, I can read lips rather well. Tim's just said my name three different times. All -- I believe -- is well enough."

"Yes, I suppose you would think about it that way, considering. He really does look *experienced* with cross-dressing."

"He does wear it well -- and he'd fool any number of people if he covered his Adam's apple --"

"Which he's doing right now. I -- hm."

"Yes, darling?"

"I've always thought ribbons like that were incredibly obvious. I mean, whenever I see someone dressed as a woman wearing a ribbon-style choker or a scarf tied closely around her throat, I *immediately* assume she's a cross-dresser."

"Sometimes the effort to conceal counts for as much as the concealment's success. He's dressing to please his Lex, who already knows what he's packing beneath that gorgeous dress. Additionally... well. Perhaps this is a more innocent time...?"

Jess snorts. "I -- except that it *is* -- ah. Never mind. Onward?"

There is no Jessica on the screen, of course, and there's no movement of the 'camera.' There is only a bedroom -- decorated mostly in periwinkle -- with another one of those salivation-inducing computers. "That's where you were when you came to us?"

"Yes. I... hm. I'm wondering where the clothes I was wearing are."

"Time has passed -- they could've been moved."

Jessica blinks. "I. Yes, I suppose -- but usually no one... ah... bothers me. At all. Ever."

And sometimes, it wouldn't have been 'bothering,' at all, would it? Lex strokes her hip. "How long before you're declared missing, do you think?"

Jess shakes her head. "I... well. I've trained the servants not to volunteer information about me to my parents unless they're asked a direct question. My parents are on a business trip to New Orleans. They'll be back in a week. By then... Lex, I go days without speaking to or seeing *anyone* else. Among the family and the staff, I mean."

"There's still your school."

"Oh... true. Hm. I've never cut school in my life. By Monday morning, people *will* be looking for me."

"With this... you could come to us at any time. You could... hm. I'll make the physicists find a way for you to call us. Or you could --"

"Lex... I don't want to go home, at all. That's -- I'm reasonably sure that makes me --"

"Ours. Wise. Perspicacious. Even more beautiful --"

"*Lex* --"

"We can forget these coordinates just as quickly -- as *easily* -- as we found them, Jess. Or you could write a good-bye note on a paper airplane and toss it through --"

"So -- *callous* --"

"Were they any better to you? Truly? They gave you that pretty little J-name, but never actually worked to find one that would suit you. They leave you alone *habitually*. They train you to be a productive little bitch, but not in how to use the heart you were born with. They -- they *leave* you, and I'm afraid that *that* will always be an unforgivable sin."

"Because I'm so very -- special," and Jess laughs wearily before pulling away and sitting on the stool beside Lex's own.

"You were their *child*."

"I still *am* --"

"Are you?"

She narrows her eyes at him. "And did you and Bruce *make* me a woman, Lex?"

"You know what I mean."

She glares for a moment longer... and then the weariness comes back. "I'm not supposed to --"

"Get what you want?"

Jess' expression becomes pinched. "Too many of us gave too much away."

"A bit at a time. Pieces of the mystery. Pieces of *you*. I suppose it's possible that there's a Tim out there with a reasonably healthy family and friends he doesn't lie to as a matter of course --"

"Stop. I -- please."

Lex closes his eyes for a moment -- and nods. "You are wanted. You are needed. And you are loved."

Jess shakes her head -- and then snorts again. "There's a movie... it's a David Bowie movie. I don't know if it ever came out in this universe -- it would be fairly new if it did."

"Oh, let's see -- it's a muppet musical where he's wearing one of Tina Turner's wigs and pants tight enough for me to be sure of his circumcision status."

Jess laughs. "I see that you know it."

"Fun new musicals are -- relatively -- few and far between. One *must* keep a hand in."

"'Must?'"

"Oh, yes. In any event -- I'm not the Goblin King. Bruce would probably dress like one if he thought it would make you happy, though."

Jess' expression goes distinctly *distant*.

"Don't make me jealous, now --"

Jess holds up a finger --

Lex snorts --

And Jess sighs. "All right, that was... mm. If you were both wearing those... pseudo-Edwardian clothes..."

"Yes, darling?"

"And maybe... maybe taking *turns* dancing with me..."

"What about Clark?"

"My memories of him... I know he was attracted to a couple of different *Tims*, but --"

"*Clark*, like me, enjoys women enough that he's willing to make love to them even when they *aren't* family. By which I mean, I'm absolutely going to make him wear tights which look good on him. *You* may feel free to lust or not, as the mood strikes you."

Jess smiles at him, soft and --

Lex sighs and rolls his stool close enough to her that he can stroke her long, fine hair, her soft cheek -- "I didn't appreciate Tom enough. I will never make that mistake again."

"You -- you should. I'm almost positive that there was something important you could be doing --"

"In order to allow you to brood yourself into some wrongheaded sense of filial *duty*?"

"In order to let me *think*, Lex. I -- I want to stay --"

"*Take* what you want --"

"Give -- give me a *moment* -- and you still have to find out where the resonance is coming from!"

Lex shoves his hand into her hair and yanks her head back --

"God, *Lex* -- *mm* --"

This kiss is too hard, too *rough* --

This kiss is the only one he can give right now --

This kiss is *necessary*, and *becomes* correct with Jess' moan, Jess' hands on Lex's chest --

Those proprietary *strokes* --

Lex hums and sucks her sharp little tongue, teases her palate, fucks her mouth until she tightens it for him and he can fuck it *faster* --

Jess groans and *scratches* Lex's chest --

Lex growls and pulls back. "I need you so badly there is actual physical *pain*, Jess. How could you ever think I'd let you go without fighting with everything I *am*?"

"I'm not even --"

"You're fighting in your *heart*. And that is... hn." Lex shows his teeth. "Too much," and he strokes down the bridge of her nose. "*Now* let's find out who's behind the parade of *yous*."

Jess' eyes are heavy-lidded, her mouth is wet --

"Or I could take you to the bedroom I keep here and introduce you to slow, *thorough* anal --"

"*Hnh* --"

"Good enough; let's go --"

"*No*, Lex. I --" She tugs his hand out of her hair. "This *first*," and the heat behind her glare *isn't* anger, but she's doing a creditable job of making it look that way.

Lex rolls his stool back and raises his hands.

Jess sits up straight and pants -- and presses on her nipples until they stop being hard.

"How painful was that?"

"*Annoyingly*," she says, and points to the machine.

Lex sets it to search for the *one* other point of resonance --

And --

He's looking at a Tim whose arms and throat are scarred, and his casual clothes are probably hiding still others. His eyes are shadowed, and there are deep hollows beneath them. His room -- if it is his -- is somewhere...

It *is* Gotham -- he can see that through the window -- but it's nowhere near Bristol. There's yet another stunningly *sleek* looking computer -- and a great deal *more* equipment --

Tim smiles -- tight and small -- at nothing and the 'camera' follows him as he rolls his simple desk chair to the left --

Exposing a monitor showing Lex, Jess, and the lab. He wasn't smiling at nothing. He.

"Tim --"

Tim brings a finger to his mouth and looks at something off-screen with a wary expression -- which fades after approximately fifteen seconds.

And then he stands up and walks toward the 'camera' --

And appears on the small -- and still *faintly* charred -- platform the *first* Tim had used.

He steps down, moves to within three paces, slips his hands into his pockets, cocks his head to the side, and smiles again -- and this time it's a distant thing. "Lex Luthor. I never really thought I could say this, but... it's a pleasure to meet you."

Still not Tom. Still -- no. Think. Think about what he's saying -- and what he's done. "You've been manipulating all of us."

Tim closes his eyes -- but only for a moment. "Yes. I... hn. It was for a good cause...?"

Jess snorts. "Getting assorted versions of yourself laid?"

"If I had to do it all again... I probably would've worked harder not to ruin myself for all other pornography," Tim says, and lets his smile get sharper --

Jess blushes and glares --

And Tim takes his hands from his pockets and makes a gesture which is almost certainly meant to be soothing. "If I'm being antagonizing, please, feel free to slap me down for it. It's not my intention in the slightest."

Well, then -- "What *is* your intention?"

"Ah... well..." Tim... colors slightly. "If you can believe it, I started this project out of sheer boredom. But... that's not the whole story by a long road. I'd like to *give* you -- both of you -- that story... and since my parents are on their way to bed, I have the time to do it. May I?"

"*Yes* -- but first, tell me how to *keep* Jess here."

"It's all theory at this point, but I believe that once Jessica... hm... ricochets out? You'll be able to bring her back."

"And the next Tim who comes along?"

"There won't be one. The parade of Tims was entirely my fault, and I... well, I won't say that I've run *out*, but... hm. I've run out of ones who are either compatible with you -- and your fascinating triad with Bruce and Clark -- or who can be made so."

"I have my doubts about that."

"So I've overheard," Tim says, and smiles sharply again. "I never would've considered *you* to be a romantic."

Lex raises an eyebrow. "That's two. Either tell us what the Lex in your universe is like or stop jabbing at wounds neither of us can see -- or do anything about."

Tim blinks -- and inclines his head before standing straight again. "I'm sorry. The truth is, you're the reason why I studied this universe so extensively. I've spent months looking in on all of you whenever possible, studying and piecing together your histories until I had something like the whole picture. I never would've been able to credit the Tom *thing* if you didn't all speak about it so much --"

"How did you handle the time-skip?"

"Your physicists had a far more difficult task than I did, really. The future is mutable. *Changeable*. The past... well, changing something there just means you're creating a new fork that will eventually be broad and complex enough to be an entirely new universe. Once you know the *right* fork, once you have an idea of what you're searching for, and, once you have a near-unlimited supply of nth metal to play with --"

"What the hell is *nth* metal?"

"That delightful compound at the heart of your machine which makes your physicists so twitchy."

Oh... that. Bruce had found some of it on his travels -- a pulsating glow halfway up a mountainside he'd assumed was some strange new kind of kryptonite, at first. He'd purchased a haz-mat suit and collected as much of it as he could without *mining*, and had sent Lex a request for an exogeologist. When Lex explained that that discipline didn't *exist* yet --

Well, they had played with it extensively. Finding out that it could warp space, time, and *probability*... had merely been one more piece to the puzzle Lex was building by main force.

Lex nods and gestures Tim to continue.

Tim inclines his head once more. "In any event --"

"Wait, *why* do you have so much nth metal? We had to bend over backwards to find ways not to *overuse* it."

"First of all, I'm reasonably certain that nothing *you* can do will destroy it. Second of all... well, think of it like kryptonite. Nth metal is all over the place due to events which will become clear in your future. And it's... hmm... well." Tim smiles *secretively*. "Imagine a world where Clark could *use* the kryptonite which is so often used against him. Where he could harness its power and turn it against his enemies --"

"I *have* imagined that!"

"Well, it's not going to work. For Clark, anyway. For the people whom the nth metal *belongs* to -- for lack of a better way to think about it --"

"What you're saying is that there will be *more* alien heroes."

"Ah... yes, you're right. It *is* irritating to have to dance around --"

"Then *don't*. I'm not going to let Jess disappear from our lives for long, and I'm not --" Lex shakes his head and smiles, knowing it looks hard on his face. "Consider it another opportunity to *fix* things, Tim. You've already *adjusted* things in several different universes -- now you get to play with mine."

Tim closes his eyes for a moment. "Yours. You -- hn."

Lex *works* not to stiffen --

But Tim raises an eyebrow at him.

Fucking -- "*Talk*!"

"It was you. It was *all* you, Lex -- *may* I call you that?"

"It's my *name*."

"Because you're less than attached to the 'Luthor' part of it, yes, I see. I... well. First and foremost? In my universe, Lionel Luthor was dead by the time you were nineteen. The theory is that you and the freshly-hired Mercy Graves cooked up a scheme to kill him and make it look like an accident. An *exceedingly* suspicious accident, but there you are --"

"What else."

"You... well, you became him, Lex --"

"No."

Tim raises an eyebrow and slips his hands back into his pockets -- shallowly only, Lex realizes. He *will* be ready for an attack, should one occur.

As ready as Lex... wasn't. Lex allows himself to clench his hands into fists, to breathe deeply -- "I became him."

The eyebrow gets *higher* --

"Tim, so help me --"

"You became him. Everything he's done to you in this universe -- everything I've been able to discern in my brief trips through the proverbial looking glass to study what few things you *did* write down --"

"You -- *what*?"

"You have to understand, Lex -- *every* hero in my universe has spent some amount of time working against your schemes. Even the ones who eventually sided with you for one reason or another had had at least *one* mission which was -- at the very least -- *indirectly* related to something horrible you had done. So, yes, I was *vastly* surprised to find a universe where you were romantically involved with *Bruce* and *Clark* considered you a *companion* --"

Focus. Focus. Swallow back the -- the *bile* -- "Are *you* one of his companions?"

"I've rejected him three different times... and I have not been able to call up the inner strength to call to him now, when I need him more than..." Tim hisses in a breath and shakes his head. "Anyway. May I continue?"

Lex narrows his eyes. "What happened to you? Why aren't you living in the manor?"

"The answer to both questions: my parents."

Jess clutches Lex's forearm. "They *are* alive? Both of them?"

A shadow flickers in Tim's eyes -- and then passes entirely. "Your biological mother didn't die when my mother did. My father remarried a year later --"

"So. So soon?"

Tim smiles ruefully, *gently* --

And Jess doesn't need Lex's hand on her shoulder to know that was a warning. She tenses --

And Tim nods. "I encouraged it, actually. The woman Dad marries... they love each other. And I've never doubted that."

Jess winces and crosses her arms under her breasts -- and, no, it's not a surprise to learn that she doubts her parents in that way. Lex guides her back to a stool and rubs her shoulders firmly until some of the tension flows away. He's aware of Tim's attention, but --

"How are your parents responsible for your situation?"

"Well, obviously I couldn't live with Bruce after my father got out of the hospital. While I considered divorcing them -- Alfred even encouraged it -- all I could think of were the inevitable headlines about Bruce taking in yet another black-haired, blue-eyed teenaged boy... and how, this time, he hadn't even waited until the child's parents were decently buried. So, I lived with them for my entire tenure as -- Bruce's partner --"

"You're not his partner anymore?"

Another sharp smile. "My father discovered what I'd been doing. He threatened to go to the press with Bruce's secrets -- with the *family's* secrets -- "

"*No*. He wouldn't -- he's not --" But Jess cuts herself off, standing up and starting to pace.

There's another shadow in Tim's eyes --

And Lex knows there was even more to that story than what Tim had said. He'll leave it for now. "Go on, Tim."

"The price for his silence was my... retirement. No more time with the family which had become my own -- far more so than my father and my stepmother. No more training to become better, stronger, and faster. No more opportunities to help people, to help Gotham become a marginally brighter place..." Tim smiles distantly again -- "I'm telling a lie, of course. I'm acting as though those other things were more than *fractionally* important compared to the loss of Bruce and the others."

Lex nods once. "That's why you began your project. How did you know it would *work*?"

"I didn't, really... but I had my memory of the schematics, an endless supply of computer equipment -- as my father was far happier with the idea of me *tinkering* than he was with the idea of me doing something *useful* -- hn. Why, yes, I am angry with him, Jessica. You don't have to look so shocked. How would *you* feel if either of your parents had, after years of doing nothing of the kind, shown not just an interest but a *proprietary* one? You already have your own life and your own way of doing things. You may not be a vigilante *yet*, but you've been training yourself for just that --"

"He *cares* about you. He -- he just doesn't want you to get *hurt* --"

"Do you know..." Tim shakes his head. "We've yet to have a conversation about anything substantive, Jess. I made an effort, but at first he was too *blackly* angry to return my conversational gambits, and now he's just too... useless. Hn. We are strangers to them, Jessica. *Remember* that."

Jess squeezes herself hard, searches behind her eyes --

The thing is, she's rapidly coming to the conclusions Lex *needs* her to come to, but --

Lex grips her shoulders. "Would you like to work on your knife-fighting with Hope, Jess?"

"I -- *what*?"

"I'm more than willing to tell you everything about this conversation later. More to the point, you'll be able to watch every moment."

She blinks at him and bites her lip --

"You are not weak."

"I'm -- too young. For this."

By no more than an hour or two, knowing... all of you. Lex strokes Jess' cheekbones. "Look at it this way -- you're going to want to make your decisions about your parents without distraction. What Tim has experienced has, ultimately, nothing to do with you." He *wills* Tim not to make a fucking sound, not to move a *muscle* --

And Jess smiles at him softly and ruefully. "Nice try."

"Jess --"

"I think -- I think knife-fighting sounds like an excellent idea."

"Darling... there are workout clothes in *close* to your size in the gym. Would you like my knife?"

She looks him over with slow and *possessive* care --

"Or we can table this for --"

"No," she says, and reaches up to pat Lex's chest. "Where *is* Hope?"

Lex presses on his implant --

And Hope walks in five seconds later. Her eyebrows are up by approximately one centimeter, which is the only sign that she's feeling -- or thinking -- anything in particular about the presence of a Jessica *and* a Tim. She is... eminently herself, and Lex wouldn't be himself if that didn't soothe and quiet something within him.

A different kind of strength he can pull from the universe. "Hope, take Jess to the gym and show her some of what you've learned about knife-fighting. You've got two hours."

"Yes, Lex. Is there any particular school I should focus on?"

Lex turns to Jess with his eyebrow up.

"Ah -- wherever I need it the most?"

"You have your answer, Hope. Dismissed."

She inclines her head and then turns to Jess. "Follow."

Jess stands up, takes a deep breath, and does just that. She doesn't look at Tim as she goes.

Once the heavy doors are closed behind them --

"You already love her."

And that -- "You -- *Tom* taught us, above *all* else, not to dick around with our emotions."

Tim closes his eyes *again* --

"You're wondering if that's a lesson you need to learn for yourself?"

Tim opens his eyes and stares at Lex with a wry look on his face. "I've never told Bruce how much I love him."

"He... never had a Tom."

"If he did..." Tim shakes his head. "I don't know. Certainly, if there *was* a Tom, he failed to have anything like a salutary effect on my Lex."

And Lex realizes -- with something like dawning horror -- that *this* Tim --

This *openly* manipulative and somewhat *reckless* Tim --

"You could be Tom's... precursor. You know that, right?"

"The way all of you talk about him... the way you *especially* talk about him... hn. The thought had occurred. I'm not a nice person. I'm terribly lonely. I lie all day *every* day, and have been doing so from a very young age. I'm *vastly* attracted to Bruce -- did you know, I've already gotten the chance to see him as a teenager? A rather exceedingly *bratty* magic-user turned all of the adult heroes into teenagers and the teenaged heroes into adults. I discovered just how tall I *wouldn't* manage to grow, and that Bruce was... indescribable."

"Were you *more* attracted to him as a teenager?"

"I -- I *have* considered the question, but I've never quite been able to answer it to my satisfaction. For what it's worth, though, I'm frankly not sure at *all* how I managed to get through that particular weekend without tearing him out of... the uniform I wore as a teenager and fellating him to within an inch of his life."

"You had an adult's control, perhaps?"

"Mm. Or an adult's *idiocy*... which is something you singularly lack," Tim says, and takes a deliberate two steps closer. "Tell me something, Lex."

"I'm listening."

"What would you do in my situation? What --"

"One, divorce my parents. Two, move into some lovely apartment whose building just happens to belong to -- Bruce, I suppose. Behind several cut-outs, naturally. Three, throw myself at -- Bruce..." Lex shakes his head. "I don't suppose you've *tried* with your Lex?"

Tim raises *both* eyebrows at him.

"Don't look at me like that. You've seen for yourself what I *can* be."

"That's... ah. Hm. The last time I saw him? He was in the process of gassing me unconscious in preparation for beating me to death."

"All right, that could put a crimp in *any* relationship --"

"But?"

"*But*," Lex says, and jabs Tim's chest with his fingers, noting the hardness, the muscle --

The *scent* of him --

Fuck. "Why is it, do you think, that our memories of scent fade, Tim?"

"I -- I'm not sure?"

"Think about it. There is no single sense available to humanity which is *more* capable of solidifying memory in and of itself. And yet, while we remember things we've heard and seen and tasted for decades after we've last done any of those things... scent is gone within a few years. No matter how well the memory is trained."

"When you think about it, though, it's *not* gone. It only takes one whiff of the scent in question for everything to come flooding back --"

"Everything, yes," Lex says, and cups Tim's face. Gently.

"Lex."

"I promise that I'm never going to try to beat you to death."

Tim's laugh is quiet and *cracked* --

But Lex remembers that, too. "Something else interesting occurred to me," Lex says, and presses his thumb to Tim's lower lip.

"Ah. Yes?"

"We know that Tom came from the future. We know that we've screwed the pooch on getting him to be from *our* future...?"

"Yes. But --"

"Shh."

"Lex --"

"He was from a universe with a Lex like your own... going by everything he told Bruce about it. A Lex who was all but fascistic -- on top of being utterly immoral."

"All right --"

"But he couldn't say no to me. Why is that?"

"The difference? The -- ah --" Tim steps back and *starts* to reach up to touch his own mouth -- he doesn't finish the move. "You're extremely compelling."

"You know my will."

"Very well, at this point --"

"Not well enough," Lex says, and closes the distance between them again --

"You -- all of this has taught me to want you, of course. I don't need more. I don't need -- I still have to go back to my universe --"

"Because Bruce needs you?"

"Yes -- no. He has..." Tim laughs. "Do you know who Bruce's partner is right now?"

"He replaced you?"

Tim winces -- "Batman needs -- Batman needs a partner. He always has. It --"

Lex pulls Tim close, noting the slightly *heavier* muscle -- he'd filled out more than the other Tim, or --

No, focus on *this* moment. Not running around rooftops for months had put weight on him. Right now, Tim is panting and tense, arms down at his sides --

Lex cups the back of Tim's head. "He needs you."

"I --"

"The question is whether or not he knows it."

Tim groans and starts to pull back -- but doesn't fight Lex pulling him back in. He --

"How long has it been since you've had this?"

"I can't. I --"

"Months? Since you lost your real family?"

"Steph. Steph is his partner now. She dumped me for letting my father make me quit, and then she walked right into the Cave."

Well -- fuck. Wait, is that how Steph dies? Does Tim *know*? Lex doesn't remember discussing that with Bruce recently, and he certainly hadn't written anything about it down, but -- "Tim --"

"I had to... there were things which could be improved. There always are, of course, but sometimes there are so few which we *ourselves* can improve --" Tim groans and drags his face across Lex's shoulder --

"It's all right --"

Tim chokes on a laugh --

"It's all *right* --"

"I'm letting -- I'm letting the world's worst man comfort me while I pretend I don't want that man to fuck me blind and *stupid* --"

"That can be arranged."

"And how would Jessica feel --"

"Convinced of her own intrinsic worth and beauty... once we've all had just a little bit more time with her. Bruce, especially... by the time he'd had Tom for a week and a half, Tom practically strutted. In subtle, attractive ways, of course. Wrap your arms around me."

"Lex --"

"I *know* you know how hugs work, darling --"

And Tim clutches at Lex's shirt, tugs and almost certainly wrinkles the thing abominably -- which is another sign.

"That long."

"*Yes* -- *fuck* --"

"Don't let go."

"*Lex* --"

"You could break him, you know. Your Lex, I mean."

"I -- what --"

"One taste of being appreciated for being an *actual* great man. One taste of respect, companionship, mutual desire --"

"You -- please stop trying to pimp me to your alternate universe self, Lex. It's making the hug just the slightest bit stressful."

Lex laughs softly. "Bruce has told me -- more than once -- that my habit of trying to do many things at once can be problematic. I..." Lex pushes a hand into Tim's fine hair -- nearly as long as Tom's had been -- and rests the other on Tim's hip --

"God. Fuck --"

"Look at me."

Tim pants against Lex's shoulder, tugs harder on the sides of Lex's shirt --

"Will you do it?"

"Never falter. Never break. Never surrender --"

"Your *life* is more important than the Mission --"

"It is *not*. It never has been, it never *will* be. I just have to *fix*, and I *did* that, and there's no reason for me to even *be* here --"

"And you're never supposed to get what you want?"

"*Christ* --" And this time, he actually *tears* Lex's shirt -- impressive considering the material and relative lack of leverage. "Oh -- I'm sorry --"

And it's dangerous to do this on a number of levels, but it's still easier -- more *necessary* -- than anything else to yank Tim's head back, to lean in --

"*Please* --"

And Tim has seen this kiss, but he hasn't had it for himself. Tim has *needed* this kiss, but --

Sometimes, we all need to be forced into taking the *other* things we need. Lex has known this about humanity -- and about *himself* -- since he was a child. This, here --

He would bet large amounts of money that Tim had learned that lesson, too -- hell, it's possible he learned it from his Bruce in *one* way or another --

But not the right way.

He walks Tim back toward the bedroom. Down the hall, past the dormitory -- he's going to have to make sure there's nothing the physicists need or want. He's going to have to be *good*, and that's --

Satisfying. Very.

Lex smiles into the kiss and Tim shivers.

Lex *growls* into the kiss and Tim tenses and whines, and --

Not the bed yet. Or --

Tim is neither Mercy *nor* Jess *nor* Tom, himself... but he's closest to Tom, Lex thinks, and in that one night --

That morning of laughter and *soft* kisses --

Lex pulls back and licks Tim's reddened mouth --

"Lex --"

"You've always needed to know that gentle was *available*."

"I -- what?"

"Strike that. You needed to know -- and to have the world *allow* you to know -- that gentleness was *permitted*. And when the world wouldn't cooperate, you needed to prove it for yourself."

And Tim looks... dazed. Already somewhat *lost* --

Lex hisses between his teeth and shoves Tim -- gently -- onto the bed.

"Lex --"

"Right foot up," Lex says, and *starts* to drop into a crouch -- but it's unnecessary, because Tim kicks up to his own *head*. Even Tom wasn't really -- or was he?

"Ah -- no one can stop me from keeping my flexibility up," Tim says, with a sort of *rueful* pride.

"Noted, darling. It certainly makes *this* easier," and Lex undoes the ties on Tim's beat-up sneaker. "When you go to seduce your Lex --"

"*Lex* --"

Lex smiles and tosses the shoe and Tim's sock across the room. "Consider asking him for his opinions about what you should be wearing. I know *I'm* dying to dress you properly." He gestures for Tim to lift his other foot --

"I've always enjoyed being... primped. I... it's just that I could see how much *Bruce* enjoyed it --"

"Bruce has eleven years' worth of sketches -- hm." Lex taps the comm in his ear. "Where are you."

"Moving -- with all reasonable haste -- toward your position, after having received the scolding of my life," Bruce says, sounding both weary and amused.

Lex blinks.

"I'll explain later. Where do you want me?"

"B-three. We have another... ah. We have another. *Without* losing the last."

"Is he --"

"Yes and no."

"Noted. I'll be there in ten. B out."

Lex turns back to Tim --

"You could really use a voice scrambler. *Both* of you could, but you especially," and Tim 

"We randomize the channels habitually and use codes -- and you have every reason to *know* that that's not good enough, of course."

Tim smiles wryly.

"Take off your shirt."

Lips parted, eyes wide --

"I'm never going to get tired of you. *Any* of you."

"You shouldn't make promises --"

"*You*... should fight for everything you want."

"It doesn't work with -- my Bruce --"

"Perhaps not for others, but...?"

Tim laughs softly. "I'm special, yes. I'm a unique and... hm. Delicate snowflake? I'm a bloom against which none can compare? I'm --"

"A virgin...?"

"How many mes do you *plan* to deflower today?"

Lex makes a show of looking at his watch. "I'm going to have to have a decent meal at some point, and perhaps use condoms for the next several yous who come along --"

"Perish the thought."

"Every last one of you was born to have my come spilling down your inner thighs, and I'd think *you* would know that by now," Lex says, and raises an eyebrow.

Tim manages to look both amused and *haunted* --

And Lex was going to try to be gentle. He was going to -- more than *try*. What sort of existence drives a person to manipulate the space-time continuum just so that *alternate* versions of himself can have love?

Certainly, Lex knows *nothing* about that kind of need.

Lex sits beside Tim on the bed and strokes Tim's cheekbones with his thumb. "Tim."

"I... am definitely listening. Certainly, I'm doing more than... quivering internally. It was so fascinating to look at that one particular Tim -- the one who wound up losing his virginity to his brother --"

"Do you have brothers?"

"Not -- that one. Ah. You know what? Find a way to kill the Joker, Lex. Just -- put a bullet in his brain."

Lex blinks. "That -- he's a mutant with a particularly *stupid* shtick and some gymnastics abilities -- except that he's a lot more than that in your time. He... killed your brother."

"Before I ever got the chance to know him. There are pictures, and some video. There are stories from Bruce and -- my other brother. I once watched him make -- hn. I watched him fuck the unholy *hell* out of a cheerleader from his school once. They were... in this shady little copse near the edge of his campus, and I somehow managed to keep my hands on the camera rather than... elsewhere."

Lex strokes Tim's hair. "What -- no. Lie down with me."

"I -- should take off --"

"Not yet. I've changed my mind," Lex says, and cups the back of Tim's neck.

He watches Tim struggle internally, strain against all of those *pressures*. Teenagers aren't *supposed* to have wrinkles like that, but --

He turns and drops onto his back, laying himself out like he's being fitted for a coffin. Lex sighs internally and deals with the fact that this is one of the things he shares with the Tims.

All the difficulty, all the pain --

Lex removes his own shoes and socks and lies next to Tim, looming *just* a bit --

"That -- I hope you understand that a great deal of me finds this view nightmarish."

"I could put on eyeliner...? I keep some in this bathroom for emergencies."

"I --" Tim blinks repeatedly, spends some time *obviously* deep in thought, blinks *more* -- "I give."

"Most of my eyeliner emergencies involve a certain look Bruce gets. I'll describe it for you so that you can identify it on your own Bruce: First, his brows lower somewhat -- but only somewhat -- thunderously. Then, his jaw tightens and his hands twitch. He may or may not choose to cover that twitch with a flex of his fists. Finally, deep within his eyes, there are hints of pain."

"And all of that leads to a need for you to wear eyeliner?"

"Absolutely. Because he only *gets* that look when he sees a perfectly made-up individual who simply refuses to have a penis under whatever they're wearing."

Tim coughs a laugh --

Lex smiles. "You think I'm kidding...?"

"I *think*... that my Bruce is somewhat more heterosexual than yours. In fact, I *know* he is. He's had three female lovers just since I've known him, and only one of them has been a member of the family. Ah -- it's Barbara Gordon. No one dies and makes her available to Bruce that way --"

"As opposed to how your brothers *become* your brothers."

Tim smiles ruefully. "I told you I wasn't a nice person. I'm really --" He shakes his head. "I won't risk them being lost to the Mission."

"What did you do with your pictures of your brother?"

"I got halfway through developing them -- a flash of thigh, the shine of sweat, the *interruption* of a scar -- before the self-loathing hit. I destroyed them all. The memories were burned in, though. I was saying -- something. About... hell --"

"Don't move," Lex says, and strokes Tim's abdominal muscles through his simple red t-shirt *firmly* until he relaxes them.

"I -- Lex --"

"You were saying that you were fascinated by the Tim who got to have that particular boy as a brother."

Tim frowns -- no, it's more than that. The frown which takes his face makes him look confused enough to be *young*.

Younger than his actual *age* -- "It's all right..."

"He's so -- he was so -- happy. I. He was so *relaxed*, even, and he had to know that none of that could last, that -- no, that's not it --"

"Are you sure?"

Tim laughs -- and covers his face with his hands. "He smiled so *much*. I just -- I looked in on that universe, zeroed in on the Lex, the Bruce... they were all --" Tim moves his hands and swallows. "They were all lovers, but that Tim and -- his brother focused primarily on each other. Maybe -- maybe I should've left well enough alone."

"You saw the way Lex and Bruce looked at him."

"At *both* of them. Though I think Bruce was more focused on his brother, that he had... hm. Ceded Tim, perhaps?"

Lex shudders --

"The idea disturbs you. Yes, I remember that conversation-slash-whipping you had with *your* Bruce. Still, it *is* in Bruce's character. He often does... stupid, *hurtful*, *terrible* things in order to -- try to -- make things easier for the people he cares about."

"He often has all the emotional intelligence and sense of self-preservation of a retarded *lemming* --"

"That's a myth --"

"I *know*. Work with me."

Tim hums and smiles at Lex. "I want to *choke* him sometimes... but he gave Steph and me... very much. And, before that, there was Ariana --"

"You had *another* girlfriend?"

This time, the hum becomes a laugh. "It... ah... happens? She was beautiful, and intelligent, and somewhat aggressive. Steph is all of those things, but even more aggressive."

"Did she beat you or something?"

Tim sighs. "Not... sexually. Quite. She's not the most patient young woman in the world. Bruce is either breaking her of that, or -- or -- I don't know. I don't know anything. I miss -- she knows I'm gay."

"All right..."

"She --" Tim licks his lips and stares at the ceiling, *scans* the ceiling -- "She never... pressured me, or... anything like that. I think she knew that I wouldn't ever be attracted to her *physically* before I did. Certainly she *accepted* it before I did."

"But you still saw each other."

"Oh, yes. I... after that conversation we were closer than ever. We... we had defused the time-bomb in the living room, you see. She made sure I knew that I was welcome to have physical relationships with other people, I made sure she knew the same --"

Lex presses down on Tim's sternum --

"Ah... yes?"

"I already know *you* didn't take advantage of that permission. Did she?"

Tim licks his lips and frowns. "I think -- I think -- I don't know. Towards the end, she was growing closer to... to a woman named Cassandra Cain. Another member of the family. She started to tell me about it, but I think I just... looked too frightened. Too *squeamish* about female sexuality." The frown takes more of his face --

"You're allowed to find certain things *unpalatable*, darling."

"Un-- hn. I. Give me a moment," Tim says, and covers his face again.

Lex takes the time to flip Tim's -- quite loose -- shirt up and expose his abdomen. He's definitely *somewhat* meatier than any number of other Tims, but not by all that much.

Noticeable only, perhaps, to the truly obsessive.

Lex leans in and kisses Tim's navel softly, gently -

He kisses it carefully, and more carefully than that when Tim's breathing hitches, when he shudders only for *this* -- 

"It's all right," he says again, and licks up between Tim's pectorals, tasting mild sweat --

"Lex --"

"I've decided that you need to think of more pleasant things."

"You -- I -- I jerked you *around* --"

"No, whatever higher forms of science actually define the multiverse did. You just gave me the chance to... hm. Right a few wrongs?" And when Tim looks up, Lex smiles at him, making it as menacing as possible --

Tim groans and touches Lex's cheek, strokes --

"Your Lex doesn't have hair, does he?"

"He did. Ah -- briefly. He made himself look like a steroidal red bear. Which is precisely what he was at the time."

Lex makes a face. "You're joking."

"He looked very... ah... male?"

"And you're saying I don't?"

"I'm saying -- I'm saying that you're beautiful, and the first time I realized that I had to go hyperventilate."

Lex blinks. "You have panic attacks?"

"Every... oh, every now and again?" Tim smiles ruefully and strokes lightly -- ever so *lightly* -- over Lex's lower lip. "I'm considering having one now."

"It'll be a lot less enjoyable than some other things I can name."

"You..." Tim licks his lips. "You can be crude. At times."

"It turns you on. Every last one of you?"

"We tend to be very... formal. And geeky. And repressed --"

"Not the one of you with the ever-so-loving brother."

"Ah, but then you... hn. Scratched the surface. He immediately reverted to being somewhat *frantic* with the need to please, the need to *rewrite* himself, the need to *yank* himself back to his own universe so that he could make himself into someone who could fulfill *your* needs."

"I wonder if the brother will come here to knife me for that...?"

"That -- he --" Tim sits up --

"Don't do that."

Tim pants twice -- and pulls off his shirt.

"All right. Lie back down."

Tim's smile is pained and distant at once, and he opens and closes his mouth repeatedly --

"Tim..."

Finally, he brings one of Lex's hands to the nasty scar on his throat. "My first chance to be near him in my universe. My -- he slashed my throat --"

"Your *brother*?"

"*Catwoman* had to give me emergency stitches -- fuck. Never mind. Suffice it to say that her relationship with Bruce's partners -- including *me* -- has been one of mutual scarring, emotional and otherwise. But -- he died. Joker killed him. He was brought back to life *after* he was already buried, and either that, or the process of digging himself out --"

"*Fuck* --"

"Or the way he was taken in by one of Bruce's worst enemies -- " Tim laughs and covers his face again. "I am and I'm *not* supposed to make excuses for him. Bruce loved him -- *loves* him -- so much, but he was always violent -- even for a vigilante -- and now he's a killer. On top of several other problematic things. I wanted him -- I still do. He's one of the single most beautiful men..." Tim drops his hands to his sides and smiles ruefully. "I'm kind of fucked-up, Lex. I mean -- you really should consider that --"

"How old are you?"

"What? Oh, I just turned seventeen. You'll have much better luck with Jessica --"

"Stop."

"Lex --"

"Are you going to stop saying irritating things, or do we *begin* with me choking you with my cock?"

"*Hnh* -- I. I -- ah. What counts as an irritating thing? Just -- I think you should clarify. For the sake of... clarification."

Lex pats the bed with his right hand. "Lie down."

"Lex --"

"You don't know *any* of the right ways to call my name, yet, darling. Let's fix that."

"Bruce -- you wanted Bruce to see me --"

"I want Bruce to see *all* of you, because I'm desperately curious about how *many* of your scars he'd find familiar."

"Because I might be Tom in... months? Weeks? A year?"

"If so... you ought to be prepared. Lie down."

"I think I'd like to stand. I think -- oh, don't --" Tim cuts himself off, but it's really much too late.

Lex knows all he needs to... and all he had to do was stand up off the bed. Still -- not the definition of gentle he was going to work with. He shakes his head. "I'm sorry. I'm used to seducing people in *one* way."

"You... it's not. It's not that I don't want you --"

"I know that."

"It's not supposed to *happen* --"

"I disagree," Lex says, and begins stripping himself. He watches Tim watch *him* -- and watch him toss the torn shirt aside --

"I really am --"

"I know."

Tim growls.

Lex raises an eyebrow and works on his belt, gaining Tim's *undivided* attention for a moment --

Another --

And then he growls again.

"Tim --"

"I'm supposed to be -- I *am* better than this. All -- all sorts of people have tried to seduce me over the years, *including* people I've cared for very deeply --"

"Female people."

"Just because --" Tim tenses his jaw and looks down --

"Look at me," Lex says, and pauses with his hands on his fly. He waits.

He watches Tim try and fail to regulate his breathing. He watches muscles tense and flex. He --

"Take what you want."

"Or else?"

*Yes* -- no. "No, darling. If you *don't* take what you want... you can just continue to not have it. Day after day, week after week... how long before you crack, do you think? You don't even get to work yourself for the Mission, anymore --"

And *this* growl is deeply impressive. This --

Tim claws at the *sheets*, and when he looks up --

There's something almost like rage in his eyes. "It's just like you to strike at -- at a *weak* point."

Lex raises an eyebrow and unbuttons the top button --

Tim's gaze *flickers* --

Lex nods to himself and pauses again. "Are you saying it isn't like you to do the same?"

"I'm not -- I'm not *good* --"

"Strike that. Are you saying you aren't a *mass* of weak points right now? You are, by far, the single most *vulnerable* Tim I've ever seen --"

Tim flinches. Just --

Lex stops, regroups --

He moves back to the bed with his pants still on, tugs and hauls on Tim until they're sitting beside each other with their feet on the floor -- "You believe that you're supposed to be strong at all times. For the Mission."

"I -- I'm not a part of the Mission, anymore."

"That's not the question I asked," Lex says, and refuses himself the comfort of an arm around Tim's shoulders. He twines their fingers together, instead, and squeezes hard enough to hurt.

Gentle is relative -- especially because *this* sort leads to Tim squeezing back and sighing out a significant amount of his tension before looking at him with gratitude, *helplessness* --

"Tim --"

"I'm not... I'm not even allowed to go to a gym. I need these... moments. These little reminders that I haven't -- quite -- dissolved into a useless puddle of myself."

That... makes sense. Horribly. Lex nods and squeezes again. "Everyone becomes vulnerable when they lose the things which define them. Your parents --"

"Don't --"

"They should know better. That's all."

"I'm so. Sometimes I think... terrible things. About my father."

"Not your stepmother?"

"She's... innocent. She's only ever tried to be good to me. Her sense of betrayal for all of my lies is... justified."

Good that he knows his father's *isn't* -- "Go on."

Tim nods and squeezes back. "He's... not the healthiest man in the world. He was in a coma for the better part of a year once after being hit with a nerve toxin. The same one that killed my mother. He's... well. A hit on the head -- he's supposed to avoid concussions like the plague. A particularly nasty case of pneumonia -- his lungs are very weak. A well-aimed projectile at his weak leg as he pauses at the top of the stairs. A nerve-strike like... oh, like any of the ones I picked up from a certain assassin who happened to like my personality -- I'm not. It would be... easier, I think, if losing the Mission hadn't led to me learning that I was never fit for it in the first place."

Lex winces --

"So you see --"

"No."

"Lex --"

"Tim, you're not the only one with violent fantasies, and, no, I'm not just talking about myself, so you don't have to worry that you're turning into a... hm. What am I? A less-committed supervillain?"

"You're better --"

"Yes, and so are *you*. If you weren't, you would've killed the man already. You certainly wouldn't still be sitting around making up plans --"

"I could just be looking for a way to avoid being *caught* --"

"We all have our moments of darkness, Tim," Bruce says, walking in wearing a suit absolutely perfectly -- save for a certain flatness about his hair. He hadn't washed it after spending all that time in the cowl.

"Yes, do talk some sense into this one, Bruce --"

"Scars. His --" Bruce grunts and closes the distance between them quickly, pushing Tim's legs apart and crouching between as he studies the scars on Tim's chest and abdomen.

"I -- Bruce --"

"Tim, you -- no. Not the same. I'm sorry," Bruce says, and cups Tim's waist --

And Lex has to decide whether he's relieved or disappointed. On the one hand, he hasn't *changed* anything vital. On the other hand --

Tom should exist. Tom --

There should be a *way* for him to exist, a universe perfect for lonely boys who could be made *less* lonely --

As opposed to being made convinced that loneliness was the only thing they deserved. Lex cups the back of Tim's neck --

Bruce *squeezes* Tim's waist.

"You -- both of you --"

"You must not succumb to despair, Tim," and Bruce squeezes *tighter*. "You must take yourself beyond the pain --"

"I *know* --"

"You must always remember that there is sweetness, and hope, and *light* --"

"I. What?"

Bruce smiles ruefully. "Tom taught me that. He taught me that all the time I spent -- spent *brooding* in the morass of my own darkness of spirit..." Bruce shakes his head. "There is always pleasure and *brightness* if we only force ourselves to look for it."

Tim looks at Bruce as if he's crazy, and that --

A Bruce who had lost a partner to one of his enemies. A Bruce who *could* replace Tim -- yes.

Lex shifts his grip until he can press on the back of Tim's neck with his thumb.

"Lex --"

"Think of all the things you've wanted to say to your Bruce over the years. All the things you've wanted to *teach*."

"I -- I *am*, but --"

"It's strange to hear me repeating them...?" Bruce strokes down Tim's sides to his hips --

Tim *lifts* his hips --

"Oh... Tim. Do you wish --"

"No! I mean -- you -- please talk to me. Please. I haven't -- I thought it was enough to hear your voice through the machine -- except that you don't already know. What I was doing -- fuck." Tim twists free with nimble grace, pacing the edges of the room --

And Bruce has a quizzical expression. Right. Lex sighs. "Tim is *seventeen*. He *was* your partner, but his father and stepmother discovered what he was doing with his nights and gave Tim an ultimatum -- either he give up being your partner, or they would go to the media with your identity."

Bruce sucks in a breath. "They... they must've been terribly worried?"

Tim's laugh is cracked and aimed -- almost -- entirely at himself. "I try to remind myself of that. I try... very hard. And *then* I remember than my father's *last* response to me showing a bit too much initiative was to send me *away* to *boarding* school, and that before that... well. I spent four years sneaking out of the house to follow vigilantes around. After that, I spent months wandering off to Bristol to get *trained* to be -- Bruce's partner. And he didn't notice a damned thing. He -- he was never fucking *there* -- and -- Lex, please tell him the rest. I think I'd get too lost in -- in fucking *irrelevancies* if I tried --" And Tim covers his face again and fails to get his breathing under control.

Lex gets up and moves behind Tim.

"Lex --"

"I won't try to move you yet. You just need a little more contact right now."

"My instincts --"

"For this? They're wrong," Lex says, and massages Tim's shoulders. He has to use almost *brutal* force, but the tension slowly dissipates --

And Bruce is watching them patiently, though his eyes are just as troubled as they should be.

Lex sighs. "In his then *copious* free time, Tim built a multiversal transporter of his own. In his *bedroom*. He then happened across *our* universe, and was struck dumb by all the differences, starting with how in his universe, I'm your and Clark's mortal enemy."

Bruce blinks rapidly. "You... you murdered your father in that universe?"

"And then proceeded to become him, yes. Who knows, maybe it was a matter of *possession*," Lex says, and works on Tim's neck. "There were any number of other differences, too -- including the Joker becoming a serious enough threat that he could murder your second partner -- Tim's middle brother."

Bruce swallows and shakes his head. "That... was he your lover, Tim?"

"I never. I never knew him --"

"But he was, just the same. Tim loved him from *afar*, Bruce. Just as he loved the rest of your family."

"A family... without you? And thus presumably without Hope and Mercy..." Bruce frowns more deeply and shakes his head again. "I'm afraid I can't imagine it."

Lex smiles wryly. "Yes, you can."

"Well -- of course I hadn't *planned* to make you a part of my life, and you hadn't planned to make me a part of yours, but --"

"But spool it out to the natural conclusion --"

"Lex."

"Bruce."

"Lex, if it was the *natural* conclusion, then we wouldn't live as *wonderfully* as we do."

Lex winks at Bruce from over Tim's head. "Dark fantasies and all...?"

Bruce raises an eyebrow minutely -- and nods. "Tim. I've dreamed of systematically punching Lionel Luthor to death *countless* times. I consider them nightmares, but the pleasure within them is sometimes so *great*... hm. What did you *do* with your Machine, Tim?"

Tim looks up -- and Lex can see that his left cheek is wet. Lex pulls Tim's head back onto his shoulder and kisses the moisture away.

"Now you can talk."

Tim's laugh is thick, pained, and *brief* -- but there.

Lex smiles. "Go on, darling. Tell Bruce what a terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad person you are."

"You --" Tim shakes his head and turns back to Bruce. "I watched... closely. I haven't really eaten or slept -- much. Ah -- anyway. Whenever something happened which would remove the potential of a given me existing in *this* universe, I pushed through a different me entirely. Always from the universes where you and Lex and Clark teamed up. There... there weren't very many of those --"

"And in all of them, we had failed to acquire a Tim -- or a Jessica -- at *this* point in our lives."

Bruce nods slowly. "But we had all had... Toms." Bruce stands and moves to brace Tim with him. "Tim... there is a darkness in us which has always... spoken. Not necessarily with a voice, but... tell me you understand?"

"I wonder -- I have to wonder what sort of *influence* Lex has been on you --"

"Because your Bruce has always been a beacon of perfect, cold-eyed justice, immune to *every* possible passion?" Lex strokes Tim's neck. "You already told me he wasn't."

"But -- there's such a thing as *appropriate* passion --"

Bruce tilts Tim's head up so that they can face each other. "Tim --"

"You're so *young*. I -- you haven't even been *doing* this for more than a *year* -- I. Never mind, never --"

"You desire me."

"Of *course* I do --"

"You desire Lex --"

"It -- it doesn't *matter* --"

"You've been... alone with yourself. Alone without even a *purpose* --"

"I -- please --"

Bruce cups Tim's cheeks. "I understand, Tim. I know these feelings well. The violence -- the *darkness* -- must be channeled. Without that, it sinks into every part of our minds. It drains the color and life from our memories. It burns our happiness to nothing. It leaves us scoured of humanity and *lost*."

"Yes. Yes, it does. And I just -- I don't --"

"Tom tried to tell me that the Bat could be a benefit. That, even in his absence, it would be there to guide me. I reacted to that quite petulantly -- and I must admit that a part of me still wishes to do so -- but after I lost him and before I gained Lex... the Bat kept me from falling into bouts of dangerous obsession. It worked me out of my depression, *ordered* me away from rage..." Bruce smiles. "I owe it my gratitude."

Lex bites *back* the first several things that come to mind for that -- because it's working. Tim looks wondering, curious, *interested* -- and rather outside of his own ridiculously fucked-up brain.

Lex strokes Tim's neck, his shoulders, his arms --

Lex *wills* the boy to gain calm, a little -- a little *island* of hope and humanity --

"Tell me, Tim..."

"I. Yes, Bruce?"

"Your Bruce... has left you alone?"

Tim's expression crumples --

*Hell* --

"He -- he left. A piece of his cape on my windowsill. Other... small things. A bit of rubber from his boot *next* to where the cape had been. A climbing spike on the tree outside my window. Ah... other things. I know he's... monitoring me."

"Watching you. Missing you. Needing you --"

"No, he -- he just has to make sure that I don't screw anything else up -- ow. Bruce --ah. The pressure points on my face --"

"The first time I touched Tom this way, I berated myself. *Hated* myself for polluting our brotherhood... but it was an excellent way to make him pause and focus only on myself. I am a hungry man, Tim. A *greedy* man. I... to have had you so close for so long... years?"

"I -- yes --"

"And yet he never touched you save for what the Mission called for. I... yes, I can understand it. He had allowed himself such pleasure with his other partners and lost one of them --"

"Both -- ah. The first is still alive, but --"

"Apart from him. Doubtless because of some emotional failure of Bruce's own," Bruce says and nods. "He comes to you because he needs to. He's lost you -- and this time it wasn't his own fault. He watches you sleep for some length of time -- however much he can justify to himself -- and then he lets you know he was there. That he *needs* you. Of course, he's too cowardly to do it unambiguously, so he tells himself that you understand. That you -- his brilliant and beautiful boy -- would always understand --"

"You can't *know* that --"

"Can't I?"

"You're too different. You -- you've had relatively *little* loneliness, and, of course, you've had *Lex* --"

"I *do* change the world every day before breakfast, darling, but Bruce is rather more stubborn than the earth. Here, let me make this a little easier for you," Lex says, and pulls Tim into *something* of a half-nelson --

"I can get *out* of this --"

"If you need to. Do you?"

Tim -- blushes. It looks painful and it looks *dark*, and Bruce moans for it -- "Brother..."

Tim gasps -- "Bruce --"

"Tom would look just the same when he was resisting me. When he desired me more than anything save what had become his sense of *self*."

Tim pants again, swallows and searches Bruce --

"My love. He needs you. Were he to find you gone some night... no. I can't say what he would do. Perhaps he would tell himself that it was proof he'd never deserved you and *bury* himself in that... that *hole* in the ground --"

"The Cave is more than that! It's my *home*!"

*Bruce* gasps -- "Truly?"

"I always -- whenever I was lonely, or frightened, or confused, or lost, or -- there was always someone *there*. And -- it wasn't always Bruce."

"You... other brother?"

"For... for a while. And there was Alfred, of course. And always -- almost always -- Batman."

Bruce frowns and eases his grip on Tim's face --

"Oh. I --" Tim starts to lean in and stops himself --

"*Tim* --"

And it's always an experience to watch Bruce kiss someone. Lex had eschewed the experience when it was Harvey -- and let Bruce believe that was due more to lingering distaste than anything else, like, for an example, the way it always *stung* to watch Harvey let Bruce in only so far and no farther... no, not that. Harvey made a choice to live in *this* world's public eye, and Lex doesn't like to consider what Gotham would look like if Bruce hadn't had Harvey and Jim Gordon as allies.

But this kiss --

It's not quite the same way he kisses Clark. It's significantly more gentle, which means that it only drives Tim back against Lex a *little*. Bruce is frowning into the kiss, stroking Tim's sides --

Lex releases Tim and covers Bruce's hands, guiding them down to Tim's hips --

Down to where they want to *go* --

And, yes, Tim whimpers and bucks for it. There's only so much *he* can take at this point, after all of this... especially since Bruce is fucking Tim's mouth with his tongue, shifting his angle of approach minutely as he groans, as he squeezes, as he *looms* --

Like every good vigilante's best nightmare...?

Perhaps.

What Lex knows for *sure* is this: Tim needed this even more than he needed *Lex* -- he's tense only in the *right* ways now -- and Lex is capable of being humble *enough* to take that. So.

He steps back and watches, noting that Tim's hands are crushed against Bruce's chest, that Tim is shivering and making small sounds of *distressed* pleasure --

The sort of thing which *demands* a fuck -- or at least *focused* attention to whatever act best drives the person out of his or her head --

And Tim is shaking his head, trying to shove *back* --

Lex cups Tim's head and pushes him back into the kiss -- and watches Bruce tighten his grip on Tim's hips to something that must be painful.

Tim shudders for it -- and then throws himself into the kiss, wrapping his arms around Bruce's neck and pushing up on his toes. That eagerness, that --

Tom --

And every last one of them will affect him this way, apparently. All of them will make him --

Lex steps back again, and this time he makes himself go farther. There's a perfectly lovely chair *right* there --

And Bruce lifts Tim easily, burying his face against Tim's throat --

Tim cups the back of Bruce's head and cries out sharply -- "*Please* --"

"My *love* --"

"Ohn -- fuck, please, Bruce, you -- I'm not the *one* --"

"We've learned," Lex says, and makes a show -- for *himself* -- of straightening the crease on his pants, "that limiting ourselves to one of you is a game for fools."

"Lex --"

"I will never be a fool again," Bruce says, and nuzzles his way up Tim's throat to his cheek -- "Your Bruce must be... must be *shown*."

"I don't -- he doesn't come when I'm *awake* --"

"Call to him, Tim. You built a machine that circumvents time and space in your *bedroom*, darling. I feel *strongly* that you can find a way to make a phone call."

"Lex -- you -- oh, Bruce, you -- of course you know I'm sensitive there --" Tim laughs breathlessly and pushes his hands into Bruce's hair, squeezing his eyes shut and panting, licking his lips --

Because Bruce is making love to the scar on Tim's throat, *pressing* with lips and tongue, nibbling --

"Hard -- please, *hard* --"

Bruce growls and *bites* --

And Tim slams himself against Bruce over and over. He doesn't stop and his sounds don't have even the rudiments of words in them, anymore -- and Lex knows that no one else had touched him the right *way*, that --

No, it's Bruce, and everything he's meant to Tom --

To Tim.

He hasn't meant the same. He --

He knows he *could* --

It will always take *effort*, and Lex is built for that the way he's built for power, greatness --

Lex forces himself to sit back further in the chair, to obscure the view a bit with steepled fingers --

"*Bruce* --"

Bruce pulls back with a gasp -- "The taste of you -- "

"Bruce, *please* --"

"It's the *same*, and I never thought -- never imagined --" Bruce shakes his head and tosses Tim on the bed --

"Oh, *God* --"

Bruce strips himself at speed, and Tim only stares, taking everything in -- no. He's rubbing himself through his worn-out jeans. He's squeezing himself and *plucking* at the denim as if most of him had forgotten how to make the fly *work*.

The ache Lex feels -- is itself.

Even with the other Tims.

Even with *Jessica* waiting -- and making herself even more dangerous while she's at it --

He can go to her and *spar*, make it a -- chaste -- three-way with Hope --

"Please," Tim says, and Lex knows now that that voice means that Tim has nothing left, that he's on his own edge and *anything* -- nearly -- would count as a push. He has to *look* --

And Tim is looking at him, resting on his elbows and *looking* --

Lex narrows his eyes helplessly, *flexes* in his pants --

"Lex," Bruce says, and he's as naked and ridiculously huge as anyone could wish --

Desperately *hard* for the boy of his dreams and waiting --

*Still* waiting for him. Of course *Bruce* would, but --

Lex shakes his head --

Tim squeezes his eyes shut and clutches at the duvet, turns *away* --

Lex clutches his hands together like some -- some -- "All right, never mind, I'll leave the nobility to *you*, Bruce," and Lex is moving, stripping, stepping out of his pants  -- "Also *help*, Bruce --"

And Tim makes an absolutely *fascinating* animal noise for the sight of Bruce tearing off Lex's underwear. Which --

"Yes, I imagine that's a sight you never expected to be exposed to. Tilt your head back."

"Lex --"

"Do it now."

"*Fuck*," and Tim does it, baring his throat to the few straggly bits of late afternoon sunlight this bedroom actually gets --

"Right, Bruce --"

"Noted," Bruce says, and they move in as one, abusing Tim's throat as lovingly as they possibly can.

Lex promises himself to do this to Jess every day it's remotely possible throughout the winter. She'll have turtlenecks in every color which suits her --

They'll *caress* her curves --

Perhaps in the same way he and Bruce are caressing Tim's chest, abdomen, sides --

His shoulders, too, yes, and also their own hands --

And it occurs to Lex -- desperately belatedly -- that they've never shared anyone like this. Never --

Jess was the first, and that wasn't like -- this.

Lex pulls back --

Bruce pulls back and raises an eyebrow --

Tim moans, breath hitching and --

There's a wet spot on his jeans.

Bruce follows his gaze. "I want to suck there, and yet..."

"And yet, yes. It would be too much of a tease. Get --" No. He can try to phrase it as something other than an order --

Bruce has his eyebrow up again --

"Let's get him naked."

"Please," Tim says, looking back and forth between them. "Please, I want -- if you could just let me make you both come --"

"You *will*," Bruce says, and *he's* giving orders --

Making Tim narrow his eyes and *groan* --

"This first, darling," and Lex unzips Tim's fly --

Bruce lifts Tim easily --

Lex strips him with what he *hopes* is a workable mix of speed and gentleness --

And yes, this is the cock he remembers. Straight and *dark* with blood, needy for touch, for *taste* --

Lex raises an eyebrow at Bruce --

And they twine their hands together and wrap them around Tim's cock, squeezing *hard* --

Tim shout becomes a *growl* --

"Fast this time, Tim."

"Yes, Tim," Bruce says, and strokes Tim's hair back from his forehead with his free hand. "Please, surrender quickly."

"I'm never supposed to --"

"You have no choice," Bruce says, somehow making the Batman sound *soothing* --

And Tim's cock *spasms* in their hands. Really --

"Yes, I see," and Bruce sounds thoughtful, *avid* -- "Here," and he makes them both squeeze *harder* --

"*Batman* --!"

"I'm here, Tim. I've always been here," and Bruce guides the stroke --

It's the one Tom had taught him --

And Tim's sounds become mournful, *deep* for his voice and constant even as he holds himself back from thrusting, as he *shakes* --

As he *flails* out with one hand to grip Lex's shoulder --

"*Please* --"

"Please what, darling? You can have what you want."

If anything, that makes him sound *more* mournful, more --

Tim wrenches himself upright, twists and *clings* to Lex, and it's thrilling, *heady* --

"Just like that, darling..."

"We've got you," Bruce says, and speeds their hands without altering the rhythm --

"Touching -- touching me --"

"Oh, yes," Lex says, and licks the shell of Tim's ear, wraps his free arm around him --

"It's hard for you to look at me. Isn't it?" And Bruce probably shouldn't sound like he's midway through an interrogation, but --

Tim sobs on a breath and digs his short nails in against Lex's back --

Lex breathes deep. "Give in."

"I can't -- oh, God, I *can't* --"

Bruce growls and forces them both to *squeeze* --

Tim throws his head back and -- almost shouts. It gets caught in his throat until there's nothing but air and the *rictus* of his expression --

"You're going to love being fucked --"

Tim *bangs* his head on Lex's shoulder and shouts *with* sound this time --

And then over and over as he comes, as he shakes and shoots off --

As he sobs and tries to push back, struggles to free himself --

"*No*," Bruce says and flips Tim over onto his stomach with ludicrous ease --

"*Fuck* -- "

"Be easy, Tim," and Bruce tugs him down toward the foot of the bed -- and he doesn't have to look at Lex for Lex to know that he wants him at the head of the bed. Which -- yes.

Lex moves, and lets Tim push up on his hands before cupping his throat --

And Tim grunts and *thrusts* against the bed.

"Beautiful," Bruce *rumbles* and massages Tim's back rapidly, expertly --

"*Please* -- *hnk* --"

Lex adjusts his grip on Tim's throat until he knows it feels both comfortable and close to all-encompassing --

*Thank* you, Mercy, for giving such marvelous descriptions --

"We're entirely capable of continuing to make you come until you listen to reason, darling."

Wide eyes, *soft* mouth --

"I have loved you --" Lex laughs softly. "Take a vacation to Metropolis. Work on your... mm. Work on your *stealth* in that bright, bright city..."

Tim shakes his head --

"Don't say no to me, Tim. Don't say no to *us*. Because, once Bruce needs a moment, I *will* be taking over. I'll show you what we can have. I'll *teach* you."

"You must learn from every possible source, Tim," Bruce says, and massages Tim's *ass*. "You must never *disdain* knowledge. Ignorance is *weakness*."

Tim's eyes widen even more, his lips *part* --

"I believe you're getting through to him, Bruce."

"If I had every day of my life to *make* you understand that you belonged to us, that you could never be *free* of us..."

"Every day, yes," Lex says, and loosens his grip *just* enough -- "*Breathe*, Tim."

Tim gasps --

Lex tightens his grip. "Every day. Every hour. Every city. Every *universe*... but perhaps you wouldn't be yourself if you didn't try to run...?"

And there's a kind of *scandalized* amusement in Tim's eyes that --

"Darling, *every* time you've looked at me like that? I've wanted to shove my cock down your throat."

Bruce hums and spreads Tim's legs. "I find it fascinating that you were able to differentiate those particular occasions."

"Oh, it's a wonderful expression, Bruce. He looks like someone reached up his skirt and *tickled* his cock."

"I wonder," Bruce says, and *rakes* his nails down the backs of Tim's thighs --

Tim *jerks* --

"I wonder just how *many* times his Bruce convinced him to cross-dress."

"The blush suggests *one* answer... and the fact that he mentioned Bruce enjoying *primping* him."

Bruce hums and begins biting his way down Tim's spine. "I wonder if his Bruce was wearing a chastity device while he was... primping," and Bruce's words are slurred and *hard* --

Tim opens his mouth and *tries* to groan --

"Shh, darling, it's all right. Think of your Bruce *working* his cock with one hand while he holds the lipstick tube you'd casually discarded in the other. In fact --"

"Yes. I'll show him. In a moment," Bruce says, gripping Tim's hips and making *vicious* love to the base of Tim's spine.

Bruce had mentioned sensitivity there, but Lex wouldn't have guessed that it would make Tim *writhe* like that -- try to writhe.

He thinks of biting Jess there.

He thinks of *marking* her there in some small, easily ignorable way...

The downy, colorless hairs there --

And Tim is squeezing his eyes shut and *clutching* at the sheets as he moves, as he seemingly tries to shove himself back against Bruce's hard, hot mouth and yank himself *away* --

But he's moving more slowly and jerkily now, and there's only so much...

Lex loosens his grip and opens his mouth to tell Tim to breathe --

But Tim shouts instead, wordless and desperate that *quickly*.

"Bruce, you said he was *sensitive* there, not that you could get him *off* that way."

Bruce hums and *teases* Tim with his tongue --

Tim *pants* -- good enough. Lex chokes off his air again and tries to find focus within those grey-blue eyes, recognition, *awareness* -- hm.

"Come back to us, darling --"

And Tim focuses in an instant. He looks *frightened* for a moment, then mournful again --

"Bruce, stop."

Bruce grunts and pulls back --

Lex releases his grip. "Tell us what's wrong."

"Nothing! Or -- ah --" Tim's laugh is cracked and *soft*. "You -- I can make a better showing --"

"While you're being choked and having one of your minor erogenous zones pleasantly tortured? No, you can't. You've been paying *attention*, haven't you...?"

"*Always* -- fuck, I -- it's too much --"

"Do -- I don't want to stop," Bruce says, and it's *possible* that Bruce's hands on Tim's shoulders are comforting, but his voice is rough and young again --

And Tim's eyes widen even as he groans and *shakes* -- and presses his throat against Lex's palm.

Lex raises an eyebrow. "*This* isn't too much?"

"It's -- I've been holding my breath or choking myself for years, Lex. I haven't -- I've only rarely --"

"Your Bruce never touches you here? Not even for therapeutic massage?" And Bruce is frowning, reaching --

Lex gestures Bruce to wait. "What *happened* the last time he touched you there?"

Tim squeezes his eyes shut and presses against Lex's palm harder --

"Please tell us, Tim. We -- *I* need to know," Bruce says, and settles his hands back on Tim's shoulders --

And Tim yanks himself back from Lex's hands, pushing a hand back through his hair and panting--

Lex brushes sweat from Tim's left temple and paints it over Tim's lips. "You moaned for him."

"Yes."

"Did you... beg?"

Tim squeezes his eyes shut. "I -- almost. Half of the word 'please,' before he moved his hands and I -- it happens every *time* --"

Bruce squeezes Tim's shoulders. "He does touch you."

"For -- for muscle strains. I -- I try not to show him --"

"Your pain. Your -- your *hurt*. I --" Bruce shakes his head and pulls Tim back against his body --

"*Oh* --"

The hug is one of Bruce's better ones -- designed to envelop and *heat* until one is significantly more --

Less --

Bruce has given him that hug more than once, and so Lex isn't surprised to see Tim struggle without actively trying to get away --

To see him shudder over and over --

And to see him attempt to press closer despite there being no actual space between his body and Bruce's own. Bruce responds to that the way he always does -- by wrapping himself around Tim even more thoroughly and *flexing* --

"*Hnh* --"

"I've got you."

"Bruce --"

"He's proud of your control, but it would -- it *must* cause him to *ache*, Tim. He wants you, every moment. You --"

"I'm not his *brother* --"

"No. Perhaps not. Perhaps... you're something else entirely," Bruce says, and drags his mouth over to Tim's ear. "Son."

Tim *slams* his hips back against Bruce -- "Bruce, *don't* --"

"Now *that* was a decidedly mixed message, darling... but we couldn't help but notice your less than filial feelings for your biological father..."

"And I have always been... greedy. Lex won't let me call him brother. So much time has passed in your universe since Bruce could reasonably *have*... hn." Bruce kisses Tim's ear hard and *wet*. "A boy like you. A boy so brave, so brilliant and dedicated. A boy in my life when I've been forced to view myself as a man. A boy with such beautiful, terrible *control*..."

Lex lifts Tim's chin and turns him to face him. Tim's eyes look almost *bruised* with fear and need -- "*No* Bruce would be able to resist... especially since no Bruce would've *missed* the way you responded to him. The way you *needed* him."

"He's never -- he's never *said* --"

"Would he? Bravery in such things..." Bruce sighs --

Tim shivers and clutches at the arm Bruce has around his chest --

"So strong," Bruce says. "So lonely."

"Yes. Yes, I was -- no, you don't --"

"I'm not old enough for you," and Bruce *bites* Tim's ear --

"Oh -- please, Bruce --"

"I'm not old enough... but the hunger is the same. The need for family, for... companionship."

"You -- you have --"

"Never enough, Tim. *That* is the secret he keeps. Nothing is ever enough to fill the hole, to make me anything but starved for *more* -- and you are so beautiful," Bruce says, and strokes down until he can cup Tim's sac and squeeze gently --

Tim groans as if it's a much more profound touch -- no. Batman has had Tim by the balls for a long, long time.

Lex swipes pre-come from the head of Tim's cock and licks it off slowly and showily. "Tell us you'll call him, Tim. Tell us you'll leave your window wide open for him. Tell us you'll *make* him take what he needs."

"He has -- I'm *not* -- oh, *Bruce* --"

Lex looks -- and Bruce is squeezing much harder. "If you will not take what you need... then you must allow yourself to feed the needs of others," Bruce says, and he sounds hurt for that, *deeply* hurt --

"I... Bruce?" Tim gains control of himself in an *eye-blink*, working to turn in Bruce's arms --

And, yes, to offer comfort.

"Bruce... are you... is there anything -- *oof* --"

Bruce is doing an *excellent* job of compressing Tim's chest with his other arm, and Tim is stroking that arm with what he almost certainly hopes are soothing motions --

And then Tim looks to *Lex* in question --

Lex sighs and smiles ruefully. "He -- *we* -- would both like to be good enough men to only desire your happiness, Tim, but... that isn't the case. We're both willing to *use* your rather pathological need to be needed in order to get what we want."

"You -- you don't get *anything* out of making me have some sort of relationship with my Bruce --"

Lex snorts and licks his teeth. "Just like you got absolutely nothing out of nudging those other Tims into our sphere of influence...?"

Tim frowns and stares down at the bed. "I'm not. I'm not *well* --"

"You're *lonely*," Bruce says, and it's an accusation --

"I --"

"You're *hungry*, darling."

"I'm not -- not *starving* --"

"You're *needed*," and there's almost no *hint* of Bruce in that voice --

And Tim reacts to it *precisely* the same way Mercy reacts to having the back of her neck bitten hard enough to break the *skin*. Just... a slump. Open-mouthed panting -- ah. He's trying to spread his legs, but Bruce is holding him too tightly for that to work.

"Bruce, lift him slightly for me."

Bruce does, and Lex spreads Tim's legs *for* him. "Better, darling?"

Another *shocked* look, but this one is more dazed than amused --

"I think I'll take that as a yes," Lex says, and twines his fingers with Bruce's own on Tim's sac --

Tim moans and pumps, trying to grind back against Bruce -- yes.

"Bruce. I think you should show him now."

Bruce looks up at him with his pupils blown and his eyes *hot* --

Lex licks his lips --

"Yes," Bruce says, and moves Tim into Lex's arms --

And nobility is nowhere to be found when Lex slips himself into Tim's cleft --

Tim cries *out*, squeezing his eyes shut --

"*Open*," Batman says --

Tim tenses, slumps again -- and obeys. Just in time to watch Bruce taking himself in hand and starting to stroke -- "Oh. Oh, Bruce --"

"This is what he's had in lieu of your touch. This -- fantasy," Bruce says, and uses the stroke Tim uses on himself --

Tim's grunt sounds almost *pained* -- and he works himself against Lex.

Lex sighs. "You could have that."

"He doesn't -- you don't --"

"*Tim*," and Bruce has decided to stop *blinking* --

And Tim moans for it, reaches --

Bruce takes Tim's hand with his free one and squeezes hard --

"You -- I *feel* you, Bruce --"

"You need more."

"You've always -- known. I could never *hide* from you --"

"But you tried," Bruce says, and the accusation is too harsh, too *much* --

Tim shudders -- "I'm sorry --"

"You were... hn."

Tim *bucks* --

"You were good enough to make me doubt, Tim. Not that you were in need -- I know you too well for that -- but of *what* you needed. *Who* you needed."

Tim bites his lip hard -- stops. "You -- you gave me Ariana. And Steph. And -- my eldest brother. As much as you could. You *pushed* me at them --"

"Because I needed your happiness... and because I needed to know you," Bruce says, and sits on his heels. He squeezes his cock hard --

Tim moans and leans forward --

"You want to taste me."

"I never -- there was never --" Tim swallows and reaches back to cup Lex's hip almost *sneakily* -- but perhaps all urges toward comfort with Tim have to be that way.

Bruce squeezes himself again, and Lex watches Tim study the way pre-come beads at the tip of Bruce's cock --

Tim groans and reaches with his free hand -- no, not that.

Lex pushes Tim's head down, shuddering inside and out for the sound of Tim's *cry*. He's not fighting or trying to argue, and that cry --

Just for being pushed close --

Bruce comes closer and proceeds to molest the back of Tim's head, the back of Lex's *hand* -- "Yours, Tim. *Yours*."

"I -- I --" Tim shakes his head and darts in --

Bruce grunts and tenses hard -- "Years. So many years --"

Tim *moans* around Bruce and his hand is shaking on Lex's hip, his body is *wracked* --

And the moans get louder and choppier, needier and messier -- Tim is working his head on Bruce's cock, taking him --

"How deep are you?"

"More -- more each time he goes down -- Tim --"

Tim shakes his head *violently* and obviously tries to take more --

Bruce sighs and it becomes a pant, another --

He grips Tim's hair and holds his head *still* -- and Tim's whimper is the definition of mournful, helpless --

"It's only --" Bruce swallows and shakes his head. "You're not... experienced."

And Lex can *feel* Tim straining against Bruce's grip, and that -- "Tom wasn't experienced the first time he did that to you, either."

Bruce grunts. "He told me -- I wasn't *allowed* to let him stop --"

Tim whimpers again, groans --

"Tim. I don't wish to have an orgasm, yet. I want -- I need more of you."

Tim makes a *questioning* sound -- and squeezes Lex's hip.

Lex strokes down over Tim's back, cups his obliques. "You *will* get Bruce off, just not that way. Yet --"

Bruce grunts *loudly* --

"Did he suck?"

"So -- so very hard." Bruce licks his lips and massages the back of Tim's neck --

Tim groans --

"Oh, love. My love --" And Bruce grips Tim's hair again and begins to thrust. "Not. Not deep, but --"

"Deep enough to make Tim clutch at me. I..." Lex laughs softly and shakes his head. "Darling, if you keep that up, I'm not going to be very polite when it's my turn --"

Tim digs *in* with his short nails --

Lex narrows his eyes -- and, when he looks up, Bruce's are just as narrow. As *thoughtful*.

"Perhaps... we've already been *too* polite, Lex."

Lex licks his teeth. "Perhaps," he says, and cups Tim's hips, squeezing hard --

Bruce grunts again -- "His -- his wonderful mouth --"

"Yes, I --" Lex shakes his head and works his hips until he's lined up in *just* the right way for the head of his cock to drag over that tight little *hole* --

And Tim shouts around Bruce's cock before Lex even works up a *good* thrust. That --

"I want. I want that," Bruce says, and Batman may as well not *exist*, because that voice --

"Now *that's* the funny thing, Bruce, because *I* want what *you* have," Lex says, making his thrusts longer and *hopefully* more suggestive --

Tim is groaning for them, slurping around Bruce's cock like it's the best possible treat --

And Lex has to admit that he understands. There are times when he can't actually make himself stop sucking even to do something entertainingly *mean* -- but. "Darling. Are you ready to switch...?"

Tim freezes --

Moans --

*Shivers* --

And Bruce cups Tim's shoulders and squeezes hard. "I need you, Tim. I need to *take* you --"

Tim cries out, slurred and loud, and then starts working his head, working his hips --

And Bruce and Lex reach to stop him simultaneously --

Bruce tugs Tim's head *up* -- "We need. Do you *object*, Tim?"

"*No*. I -- please, I'm so -- *hnh* --"

Lex keeps squeezing Tim's cock for another moment. Just -- he's missed this *feeling* -- "Tim..."

"Yes. Yes, Lex --"

"We don't *have* to double-team you --"

Tim groans and tosses his head as much as he *can* with Bruce holding on -- "Please. Please."

Bruce moans quietly. "You don't want to think."

Tim's laugh is cracked and hungry at once -- "Please."

Bruce meets his eyes --

Lex nods --

And then Bruce is moving Tim, turning him --

Lex can't wait. He grips Tim by the hair and kisses him hard *while* scrabbling in the drawer for the lube --

Bruce takes the bottle out of his hand --

And Tim kisses precisely like someone dedicated had taught him how. It's an *appreciative* kiss on top of being a hungry one. It migrates from lips to tongue and back again, and Tim's eyes are closed in concentration even as he moans and takes -- no. This is what *giving* looks like on Tim, because the entirety of his kiss is an invitation to take. To make the kiss deeper, harder --

Lex has no *idea* whether or not Tim *knows* that, but --

He pushes both hands into Tim's hair --

Tim moans and *jerks*, clutches at Lex's shoulders --

And Lex has been assured -- in various ways, by various people -- that this kiss is as much a statement of intent as anything else. He does his *level* best to explain to Tim that he's going to be fucked and that he's going to love it. He further explains -- via just a *few* hard thrusts, a tighter grip, and a *bite* -- that Tim belongs to them, that there's no way *around* it, and that Tim is going to love that, *too*.

Tim moans for him beautifully, shakes --

"I can't wait," Bruce says, and the usual mild shame for that admission is buried under hunger, *need* --

A scarred Tim *in* need --

Yes.

And now Tim is shaking for both of them, because he *must* know the sound of lubricant on fingers, must know what he's going to *get* --

Tim yanks himself back and pants --

"Tell us, darling."

"Please. Please, hard, I --"

"*Yes*," Bruce says --

"Oh -- spreading me --"

"Holding you open, darling --"

"He's. Is he *staring*?"

"Yes," Bruce says, and his voice is low and rough --

"He's hungry, Tim. He..." Lex smiles and tilts Tim's head up. "He's had rather less of you than I have. Tell me -- has your Bruce ever bathed you?"

"I -- there was... something of a plague. Ah. And then again when I got a rather nasty case of the flu. I wasn't... aware," Tim says, and turns to look back over his shoulder --

Lex turns him back again. "Would it make it better or worse for you to know that he was almost certainly enjoying himself immensely?"

"I -- ah. Um?"

"Lex and I share that particular kink..." And Bruce leans in to kiss the back of Tim's neck. "Would you allow us to wash you after we make love?"

Tim swallows and laughs softly. "That... sounds like an excellent way to get dirty again rather quickly --"

"Because it *is*, darling," Lex says, and licks a stripe over Tim's mouth -- no. Lex kisses him again, and lets it be the one he'd wanted to give Tom the first time. It's more than a little demanding and it has some elements of acute *posturing*, but it's honest enough for the boy he used to be --

But when Tim moans --

When Tim moans Lex's *name* --

It becomes another kiss entirely. It --

Lex groans and gives in to it, *throws* himself into it, *takes* --

And he'll kiss Jess just this way. He --

Tim *shouts* into Lex's mouth, and no, it was really too much to ask Bruce to wait with *that* in his face.

Lex pulls back. "He's in you."

"Ah -- ah --" Tim shakes his head *violently* --

"*Tim*," Bruce says, and Batman has come back --

Tim clutches Lex's shoulders and grunts, spreading his legs wider --

And Bruce darts in to bite the side of Tim's throat again. The combination of that with whatever Bruce is doing in his ass --

Yes, kissing is something that won't make much of an impact at the moment. Not without a little help, anyway, and so Lex takes Tim's cock in hand *just* as he's slipping his tongue back into Tim's mouth --

The groan is deep and *heartfelt* --

And Lex wants to tell Tim that it's all right, wants to comfort and *soothe*, but they've already proven that they're no good at that. Better to just overwhelm at this point and save the softer things for the afterglow. Even *this* Tim will have to relax after getting fucked by *Bruce*.

Right?

Lex bites back laughter and works on stroking Tim's cock in rhythm to the way he's fucking Tim's mouth with his tongue --

And when Tim starts crying out, Lex knows that Bruce is using that rhythm, too. Possibly even managing to use to with his tongue on Tim's *throat* -- no, not that. Given his head, Bruce tends to make love to every throat presented to him with slow, thorough care. And memories of *that* --

Is what Lex is going to blame for the fact that he can't actually keep himself from releasing Tim's cock and stroking up his abdomen, his chest --

He cups Tim's throat and immediately gets his fingers nibbled and sucked by Bruce on his way to other *parts* of Tim's throat --

"Darling. Look at me."

Tim opens his eyes immediately, but there's nothing in the way of focus, no sense that he's capable of *thought* -- but.

"He's taking you with his fingers."

"Yes. Yes, Lex. He -- so big --"

"You can take him. Can't you?"

"*Please*, I -- stretched. I used toys --"

"Your bedroom. Is it bugged?"

Tim pants, winces and starts working himself back on Bruce's fingers -- "Yes. I -- I placed most of the bugs myself --"

"But not all of them."

"No, I --"

Lex bites Tim's jaw lightly. "Is he hurting you?"

"Only. Only when he stops touching. Looking. I mean -- I don't know what I mean --"

Lex kisses Tim again, making it hard and *firm* until Tim relaxes into it, and then he counts off and starts fucking Tim's mouth in rhythm again --

Tim's hands are shaking and *sweaty* on Lex's shoulders --

Tim's sucking Lex's tongue --

Lex pulls back. "Good boy. You need to Bruce to go faster, don't you?"

"Bruce. Bruce is -- inside --" Tim shakes his head and grunts again, squeezes Lex's shoulder and opens his eyes *wide* -- "Oh. So *close* -- *hnh* --"

That for Bruce's bite, Bruce's *relentless* avoidance of Tim's prostate -- because that's exactly what he does to *Clark* when he wants *him* to last. "Bruce, we can't tease him --"

Bruce moans and bites harder --

Tim jerks and slams himself *back* --

Bruce pulls back and lets go of Tim's hip in order to force his head back for a kiss and several more bites, a harder kiss and *many* licks -- "Tim. Tim, I need more --"

"Take it, please take it --"

"Note that that did not mean *tease*," Lex says and squeezes Tim's throat *just* enough to watch his eyes roll back as his cock twitches --

As Lex's own cock weighs in and *demands* --

"Yes," Bruce says, and nods to himself. "You're absolutely correct. It's only..." Bruce turns Tim to face him again -- "Tim. Every moment is desired. Every moment was *missed*."

Tim gasps and works himself faster, tries to catch Bruce's fingers in his mouth --

"My *love*," Bruce says, and shoves two fingers deep --

And Tim moans and immediately begins sucking and licking them, making love to them at least as much as he's going down. He's desperate. He's *starving* --

Lex pushes in one of his *own* fingers -- and Tim shudders and reaches up to clutch their hands and hold them *still*. Lex looks to Bruce --

Bruce is staring at *both* him and Tim hungrily. "Now, Lex?"

There *isn't* only one way to answer that look, but right now it feels that way. Lex nods more helplessly than he'd admit to --

And Bruce sighs and begins.

*

To have this --

To hear Tim's sounds as he tries and fails to *muffle* himself with their fingers --

Bruce isn't the man Tim had stretched himself for, but he looks the same, sounds the same --

And he hadn't been the one for Tom, either. Perhaps he's doomed to always be too young for *this* beloved. He knows he wouldn't be able to convince this Tim to stay, either -- not forever.

Sooner or later, *something* -- or someone -- from Tim's own universe will find a way here, and that will be the end. Again. If anything, Bruce should be holding himself apart from this experience, or even denying it to himself altogether -- but he could never do that.

There is always beauty. There is always hope. There is always *companionship*, and if it doesn't last, then it's all the sweeter for having been present in the first place --

And Tim is beautiful in his hunger, perfect in his cries as Bruce stimulates his prostate over and over again. He wants to be *inside* Tim, and Tim wants that, as well --

Wants *his* Bruce, but --

They can split the difference with Batman. Bruce won't actually be *thinking* as the Batman while he's inside Tim -- he doesn't think that would be *possible* -- but he can look that way, sound that way --

And Lex reaches between Tim's legs and strokes Bruce's hand, slow and insinuating. It's too much not to look -- and Lex is smiling at him like a cat with cream, a whole tuna, and a large supply of broken-winged birds. It's the smile which says that while Lex *could* be happier, it would almost certainly be dangerous for the rest of the world. And --

"Even with me here, Lex?"

Lex's smile gets that much wider. "*Especially* with you here, Bruce. Kiss me?"

Tim grunts and whimpers --

Bruce bites Tim's throat briefly as something of a placeholder, but --

Lex rarely *asks* for such things, and so it's necessary to lean past Tim's shoulder -- and to make love to Lex's mouth with his own. He shares his gratitude, his need, his *rueful* hunger --

And when Lex laughs softly into Bruce's mouth, Bruce knows he'd understood all of it -- or at least enough of it for his smile to be gentle when Bruce pulls back.

*Tim* looks stunned -- it's rather more acute than the dazed look he'd had -- and Bruce and Lex pull their fingers out of his mouth --

"*Oh* -- I --" Tim shakes his head in a canine fashion and licks his lips. "Please."

"You're too coherent," Lex says, gripping Tim by the hair and biting him just beneath his ear -

Tim cries out sharply and cups the back of Lex's head --

Lets go --

Cups again --

Lets *go* again --

And for a moment Bruce has to wonder how Lex will respond to that -- but it's Lex, who *always* demands a certain amount of *confidence* in his lovers, who always wants his lovers to know they're *welcome*. And if that welcome only rarely extends to his scalp -- Tim is different, and so it's not a surprise to hear Lex hum with pleasured amusement, to see him reach to *press* Tim's hand against his scalp --

Tim groans and turns to kiss Lex's cheek, his ear, his mouth when *Lex* turns enough to make it possible --

Lex hums again -- this time with *surprised* pleasure -- and kisses back, giving Tim his mouth until Tim stops being able to focus enough to take it --

And that's when Bruce realizes that he'd given Tim a third finger. That Tim was stretched enough --

Ready enough --

*Tom* -- but no, it *isn't* him. It's Tim and only Tim, who has desired --

Who has been *taught* to desire cold, hardness, grim implacability... Bruce focuses enough to be *able* to -- "I wish --" No, not that. "I watched you stretch yourself," he says, letting his voice be low, insinuating --

And Tim's eyes are wide just that quickly. He's blushing *beneath* his flush --

Lex pulls back --

"You -- Batman --"

"Every moment. Every..." But what? "You were awkward at first."

"Yes -- I'm sorry --"

"I *ached* to correct your form. To... ease you."

"Not -- nothing worthwhile is *easy* --"

Bruce forces himself to laugh like Batman --

Tim groans and clutches at Lex's shoulders again --

"And yet you've made this easy for me," and Bruce crooks his fingers --

Tim throws his head back and *shouts* --

"Should I assume this isn't... worthwhile?"

"Always -- I -- *partners* --" Tim shakes his head, pants --

"Partners... ease the way," Bruce says, and doesn't let it become a question --

"Yes! Yes -- oh. Oh, Batman, *please* --"

"I've never --" Imagined using this identity for *lovemaking* -- but that's not what Tim wants to hear. *Needs* to hear. "I *need* you," Bruce says, and it comes out sounding like a *threat* --

"*Yours* -- I'm -- but. I don't know *anything* --"

"You know enough, darling," and Lex cups Tim's face, massages the hinges of his jaw --

Tim groans and squeezes Lex's shoulders hard -- "This -- I've never -- this *fantasy* --"

"*My* fantasy," and Bruce emphasizes his words with a *hard* thrust --

Tim cries out, pants and cries out again --

Again --

"Lex."

"Don't mind *me*, Batman. His sac was just a little too *free*."

Never -- they are *never* free, and while they'd chosen the yoke --

While they'd weighted the thing themselves --

Bruce is thrusting harder than he wants to, pushing deeper, demanding --

Tim is tossing his head and groaning, shouting --

"Tim..."

Tim shouts again -- "*Please*, I -- please, Batman, please tell me what to *do* --"

Bruce growls and bites the back of Tim's neck --

Tim clenches around Bruce's fingers and *screams* --

And there were moments like this with Tom, moments when Bruce had used what would eventually *become* the voice of the Batman, moments when Tim would almost seem to lose *cohesion* within himself, when all of his fundamental mastery would flee him, leaving someone only raw, only *needy* --

Someone who never wanted to be Bruce's *brother*, at all -- for all that Bruce knows that Tom *had* enjoyed being Bruce's brother the rest of the time. There are, perhaps, no clear and simple answers to this.

There are --

Perhaps it *has* to be messy, difficult, *needful* --

And Bruce has had over a decade to find *this* within himself. This need, this pleasure...

He's not a boy anymore... but Tim is.

Bruce bites harder --

"*Hnh* --

Bruce meets Lex's eyes and they share a moment of knowledge -- and acknowledgment *of* knowledge. Lex understands. Bruce pulls back with a growl before biting Tim's ear --

"*Please* --"

"*Son*."

"Oh -- *fuck* -- fuck me, you have to -- please don't make me --"

"Did you think I didn't need you this way?"

"No -- yes, you -- you *don't* --"

Bruce growls more *forcefully* --

"Oh -- God. Oh -- do what you *want* --"

"I want *everything*," Bruce says, and squeezes Tim's hip with his free hand.

"Batman --"

"No. Not here."

Tim gasps and shakes his head, reaches down for Bruce's hand --

Bruce twines their fingers together and squeezes. "Son. You know what to do."

"I -- please --"

"*Say* it," and Bruce forces himself to stop thrusting --

"*No* -- oh, please don't --"

"It's all right, Tim," Lex says, and massages Tim's shoulders, presses closer --

"Ohn -- Lex, he --"

"He's giving you what you want. What you *need*."

Another gasp -- and this one was close to a sob. His breathing is rough and almost *forced*. He looks and sounds *panicked*, and what if this is too much?

What if Bruce is demanding more than Tim can give? It would make sense -- Tim has been lonely and *hurt*, and it would surely be better not to ask --

"Dad. I. Dad, please --"

Bruce grunts and bends Tim's head back --

Bruce kisses Tim hard and tries to be something more than he is, something greater --

To have been responsible for *shaping* a boy like this, a mind so brilliant and quick, a heart --

No, the heart has always been there. The heart only needed a *purpose* -- and Bruce could give that so easily. Tim is already trained. Tim has been on the street, at this point, longer than *Bruce* has, and that's enough to make him --

No. He won't waver. He won't *let* a lack of self-confidence keep him from giving Tim what he needs, what they both *want* --

Bruce groans into the kiss and pulls out --

And Lex is there to cup Tim's throat when Tim whimpers for the loss.

Bruce pulls back. "Are you *ready*."

Tim jerks, whimpers -- "Yes! Yes, Dad, I -- please -- please *show* me --"

"My love. My beautiful son -- you'll always know how much I *need* you," Bruce says, and it's not a surprise that his hands are shaking. It's even less of a surprise that they stop once Bruce firms his *grip* on Tim.

So beautiful.

So *hungry* for -- not him. Not -- no. That doesn't matter right now. In this moment, he *is* the right one, because he's the one who isn't letting fear keep him away from this beautiful boy, this perfect --

This perfect *push* --

Tim is crying out again --

*Tim* is shaking --

"Lex. *Hold* him."

"Absolutely," Lex says, and kisses only the corners of Tim's mouth. He's allowing every sound into the air. He --

He knows what Bruce *needs* -- "Lex. *Brother*."

Lex gasps a laugh. "Bruce --"

"*Lex*," and Bruce pauses halfway into Tim --

Tim scrabbles and scratches at Bruce's hands --

"Be easy, son. I'm here."

"You -- *please* -- *hnh* --"

Bruce eases the force of his bite to Tim's ear. "Be still."

"Yes -- yes, Dad. I -- you're so --" Tim moans and shakes his head, pants and shudders --

"You shouldn't make him wait, Bruce --"

"Lex."

"You -- family is *dangerous* --"

Tim laughs, one sharp note and a breath -- "Denying it is worse. So much -- God, don't *listen* to me -- oh --"

And Lex presses his thumb to Tim's mouth, turns Tim to face him -- "Is that what I'm doing, Tim?"

"You -- I don't *know* you --"

"You do. You've *watched*."

Tim nods and pants more. "Yes, I -- and you and Bruce -- you have so *much*."

Lex licks his lips and the sight of it makes Bruce shudder, *flex* --

Tim moans and tries to push back against Bruce, to take more --

"Bruce, don't --" Lex shakes his head and laughs. "I don't know why I thought I'd get out of today without being *broken* --"

"*Lex* --"

"All *right*, no, not broken. I -- I have a family now. I didn't think I would --" Lex cuts himself off with a growl and shakes his head before turning to glare at Bruce. "Brother."

Bruce pants and *thrusts* --

Tim screams and *clutches* Bruce's hands --

"Brother," Lex says again, and smiles sharply. "If you ever make Tim call me 'Uncle Lex?' I will get Jess to hamstring you."

Bruce grunts in lieu of using *language* -- no, he can. He can be -- "Thank you," and Bruce knows he sounds desperate and hungry --

But he also knows exactly what that does to Lex, and it always feels so good to have Lex's hand in his hair, to be pulled into kiss after kiss as Tim moans and whimpers --

As he works himself to *match* Bruce, because, no, Bruce *couldn't* stay still for long. Tim is too --

Too hot inside, too sleek --

Too *much* when he clenches, and Bruce has to pull away from the kiss -- "*Tim*."

"Nnh -- I'm sorry, Dad, I --"

"*No*. You -- you need this feeling --"

"I do, I *do* --"

"To feel me... taking. *Opening* you with my penis --"

"Oh, God -- oh, fuck -- *Dad* --"

"*Son*," and it's necessary to firm and re-firm his grip on Tim's hips, to use his thighs to spread Tim's farther apart, to pant against Tim's blushing ear and watch Lex want --

No, Lex is pulling back, smiling *hotly* at both of them and stroking himself harder --

But Tim's eyes are squeezed shut, and that --

"Son, open your *eyes*."

A *questioning* whimper, high and soft at once --

"Open. Look -- look at Lex --"

And Tim is moaning even before he does it, and when he does he yanks his hands away from Bruce's own. He reaches and whimpers again --

*Again* -- and the question of whether it's for the thrust or the sight is small -- *worthless*. Tim belongs to both of them -- even if it's only in *this* moment. Bruce licks Tim's ear and lets himself flex over and over again --

"Oh -- *please*, Dad --"

"You must take -- you must *always* take --"

"I -- please, Dad, you --"

"Hands and *knees* --"

And Tim drops immediately, releasing the clench and making Bruce slip out too much --

Bruce *shoves* in, shifting enough to drag his penis against Tim's prostate --

Tim screams for him, drops his head and screams again --

Bruce rakes his nails down Tim's back. "*Look*, Tim --"

"Yes -- *yes*, Dad, I --"

Lex raises an eyebrow --

Tim groans loudly, *helplessly*, reaching out --

Lex catches Tim's hand. "We won't let go until you need us to, Tim."

"*Never* -- ohn -- oh, Bruce -- I mean. I don't --"

And Bruce knows he's leaving bruises on Tim's hips, that he can't even manage to leave his hands in one *place* -- "Son. It's -- I will give you *everything*."

Tim whimpers and clutches Lex's hand, claws at the bed -- "More. Please, *more* --"

"Lex --"

"Noted, Bruce," Lex says, and twists his hand free before burying it in Tim's hair. "I won't ask if you're ready, darling. I already know you're perfect," and Lex pulls Tim down --

Tim moans and *strains* for more, for contact --

And Lex's gasp tells Bruce that contact was made, *given* -- "Oh -- Tim..."

Tim moans more, *whimpers* more as he sucks wetly enough to be heard --

"How -- fuck, Bruce, how did you give this *up*?" And Lex is laughing, but he's also serious, *curious* --

"I -- I have no *answer*," Bruce says, and corrects his grip on Tim's hips *again*. He needs more, but that would involve --

He's not ready to *lose* himself --

Except that Tim is working himself back and forth between them, urging faster, deeper, *more* --

Lex groans and *thrusts* --

Tim gulps --

And now all of his sounds are muffled, now he's shaking and unable to *breathe* --

"Fuck -- *fuck*, *Bruce* --"

"I'm *here*, brother --"

Lex laughs again -- "*Fuck* him. Show -- you know what he *needs*."

His father. His partner. His -- "Lover. You were always my *lover*, Tim --"

Tim beats at the bed with his fist --

Tim *clenches* and Bruce hears himself make a sound like something dying, something lost --

Tom --

And perhaps all Tims will make him feel just like this. Perhaps --

If there could ever *be* a constant in the multiverse --

But he can't let himself be taken away from this for even a moment. He has to remember everything, *experience* everything --

So smooth and *hot* inside. So ready for just this, so --

"Does it *hurt*," and Bruce doesn't know whose voice that was, which part of him could claim something so rough, so out of *control* --

Lex growls -- "Teeth. I believe. I believe he wants to *answer* you," and Lex loosens his grip on Tim's hair --

Tim nods and starts clenching rhythmically without pulling *off* --

"*Tim* --"

Lex groans and pulls back enough to let Tim gasp, moan --

Slur out something that could be please, something else that could be their *names* --

And something in Bruce cries out for that, for the *bald* fact that they haven't taken Tim deep enough, haven't --

"Ah -- *fuck*," Lex says, and begins to thrust in the rhythm Tim's been demanding. His pale skin is flushed and his hips seem almost liquid, almost --

"*Brother*," and Bruce wants to say more than that, but the rhythm is infectious. It --

Heat, so much --

*Passion*, because Tim is letting Lex hold him up while he reaches for both of them. He --

Bruce presses Tim's hand to his own hip --

Lex *clutches* Tim's other hand and smiles like something *possessed* -- and isn't he? *Both* of them are, because Tom taught both of them this, Tom would've wanted *just* this if either of them had had the capacity to be this strong back then, this --

This *sure* --

Perhaps Tom had been this hungry for a family that loved him and needed him --

So *much* --

And Lex has his eyes squeezed shut now, his teeth bared as he shakes his head --

"Lex --"

"*Brother* -- oh, fucking *hell*, Tim, suck me, suck me just --" Lex grunts and opens his eyes --

He's focused on nothing and so flushed, skin shining with sweat --

Lex grunts again --

And then grunts for every thrust, every --

It pulls another groan out of Bruce, makes him wish for more hands --

He *can't* take his hands off Tim's hips. Not yet, not --

"Be -- be *ready*, Tim," Lex says, and those were growls as much as words, those --

What he must be *feeling* now --

And Bruce can't stop himself from thrusting faster, thrusting *harder* --

Lex shouts and matches his rhythm --

Tim tenses and shudders, tenses again and slumps, loosening around him --

Giving in to this *utterly* --

"Fuck, *yes*, Tim, I -- *brace* yourself," and Lex lets go of Tim's hand and *stops* thrusting --

Bruce *can't* stop --

But Tim braces himself and Lex cups his face instead of holding him by the hair. Lex strokes Tim's cheeks, smiles down at Tim with *vicious* hunger and brightness, pulls out just enough to let Tim gasp over and over again -- "You're going to make me come -- imminently."

Tim sobs as he tries to breathe, sobs again --

"Fuck, but you're --" Lex laughs breathlessly. "Find me, Tim. Find me and *teach*."

Tim tenses again, clenching hard enough to make Bruce groan and *claw* at Tim's hips, so slim and elegant --

And then Tim nods in acquiescence, and everything about Lex which *isn't* triumphantly happy burns away in an instant, a smile, a *flash* of sharp teeth --

"Darling. Take *one* more breath. Because I'm not going to pull out again until *after* I come."

Tim groans -- and then cuts himself off with a gasp --

"Perfect. You were always so *perfect*," Lex says, tightening his grip on Tim's face and thrusting in deep before almost *grinding* against Tim's face --

Bruce knows precisely how that *feels*. That hairless mound, so sleek --

The scent of him a tease until he's aroused *enough* --

Bruce growls and strokes up Tim's sides, finds his small, hard nipples and pinches, pulls and twists --

And now Tim is shaking almost constantly, working his hips but *not* his head --

Lex won't *let* him -- no. Lex is too close now to *allow* it. He's *gripping* Tim's face and staring down into Tim's eyes. He's grunting and *pumping*, taking Tim's mouth --

His *throat* --

And it's necessary to stroke Tim all over now, to soothe even as *he* takes --

Bruce knows this isn't soothing. He knows that this *can't* be --

He groans Tim's name and gives up, losing himself to sleek skin and scars, heat and arrhythmic tightness --

The clench and press --

The shaking and *beautiful* boy beneath his hands --

The way Lex is *shouting* now, throwing his head back and thrusting almost *wildly* even as he strokes and pets Tim's hair, the curve of his skull --

The need --

Every moment --

Lex shouts Tim's name and shoves himself deep before beginning to shudder -- he's coming and a part of Bruce only wants to *feel* that again -- no. He wants to know how it makes *Tim* feel, wants to make up for adolescent jealousy and fear and *ignorance* --

And perhaps that's why he sounds so mournful to his own ears, so --

Lex opens his eyes and stares at him with something almost like fear in his eyes, and Bruce knows that it's for the pleasure *and* the fact that it's there, that they can have this --

*Tim* --

Taking both of them. Giving his body --

His scarred and perfect --

Bruce groans and hauls Tim upright, clutching him against himself and kissing his cheek, licking his ear, thrusting up and *up* --

Tim is coughing, but only lightly --

Tim is *spasming*, but he hasn't yet had an orgasm --

And Lex is right there, cupping Tim's face and kissing him softly, kissing him as *affectionately* as Bruce can't right now. He's --

Bruce is grunting and *rutting* now, and every soft sound Tim makes is a goad, a memory regained -- redeemed? He doesn't know, and the fact that he never will --

That there won't ever be a way to *quantify* this --

"*Love*," but it's more of a groan than a word. He tries again and Tim jerks, reaches back to cup and stroke Bruce's hip --

To comfort and soothe --

"*Please*," Bruce says, and Tim reaches *up* --

He wraps his arms around Bruce's neck and holds on, exposing strength, using the *work* they've shared --

And Lex cups Bruce's face, finding pressure points and stimulating --

"I. I'm *listening*, brother --"

"You need him to come."

"His. His *pleasure*. I need his pleasure. It's been so *long* --"

Tim cries out and tightens his grip on Bruce, struggles to *ride* him --

"Bruce. Jerk him off."

And of course that's an *option*. That --

He's not *thinking* clearly enough. He owes Tim so much more, he must find a way to *give* -- "Lex -- *help*."

"Yes, you certainly are clutching Tim *very* effectively. Let's see what I can do about that," and Lex starts tugging on Bruce's forearm --

"I can't seem to -- it's just that I can't let *go* --"

"Oh, *Dad* -- you don't -- you don't *have* to, you never *have* to -- *nnh* --"

"But you do have to let him breathe from time to time," Lex says, laughing lazily, happily -- "I'll take care of this wonderfully attractive cock. You focus on not killing him with *your* cock."

"Never -- *injure* --"

But Tim's cries are higher now, sharper and -- younger? Is that --

There's a *vulnerability* to him like this, as if all of his armor is gone and what's left is the boy, the beautiful boy who hungers and needs and *feels* everything. The boy who'd told Bruce he was his -- but still couldn't stay away from Lex.

"I've *got* you," Bruce says, and means it as an answer to everything, as proof of some sort of *safety* --

If such a thing could *exist* in any world where *any* of them have to --

Tim screams, loud and lost -- and Bruce realizes that Lex is fellating him, taking him *that* way -- and making him clench so hard that Bruce's vision *blanks*.

He can't stop.

He doesn't want to ever --

Tim *said* that he wants --

The clench isn't *easing*, and this must hurt so much -- "Do you. Do you *feel* --"

"*You* -- oh, Dad -- *Lex* --"

"Tim. *Come* for us," Bruce says, and feeling Tim tense in his arms --

Feeling him clench even harder until it feels like Bruce is *forcing* him to take his penis --

Tim shoves his hands into Bruce's hair --

Tim screams for every *thrust* -- no, the scream is constant, rhythm-less --

No, Bruce's *thrusts* have no rhythm and he has to bite, has to take *more* --

And then Tim is wild in his arms, bucking and straining, screaming more and almost *fighting* as Lex hums his pleasure --

"I -- *taste*," and Bruce is aware that that was incoherent, but he hopes --

He *needs* --

And Lex is kneeling up and pressing close, pushing Tim against Bruce more fully and raising his eyebrow --

Bruce can't make the kiss anything but brutal, can't do anything but wallow in the slick heat, the taste he's missed for so *long*. It *isn't* entirely the same, but it's close, the difference is incremental, a question of diet only --

The taste is his *love*, and more than that with the feel of Lex's tongue, the stab and *flex* of it, the tease as he pulls back --

"No --"

"Bruce," Lex says, and his eyes are as focused as they've ever been, his gaze as sure --

As much designed to bring Bruce to his *knees* --

Tim is moaning like someone *drunk* --

Oh --

"*Come*, Bruce --"

Lex's voice --

Tim's body --

Tim's hands as they clutch at him, plead for release --

And for a moment Bruce is aware of seemingly everything. The scent of all three of them, the pornographic sounds of slickness and force, the hunger in Lex's eyes and the way Tim is still *shaking* --

And then there's the sound of his breathless groan --

And then there's only the pleasure, the heat that makes his skin feel overly tight, makes his *self* seem like something larger, something which can only be contained in *this* pleasure, *this* moment --

"*Love* --"

Yes --

Always --

And then he's only grunting as he spends himself, as he twitches and spasms deep within Tim's body, as he -- slowly -- regains the ability to do more with his body than clutch and *demand*.

Bruce loosens his grip --

"*Don't* -- *glik* --"

Lex's laughter is soft and gentle. Understanding, and --

"I'm aware that he can't breathe, Lex."

"I thought you might be."

"It's only --"

"Yes, Bruce, I know," Lex says, and strokes Tim's reddening cheek with the backs of his fingers. "Tim, you should know that there's nothing wrong with desiring physical contact. Or... *do* you know that?"

Tim waves a hand back and forth.

"Mm. Care to field this one, Bruce?"

"A lack of physical contact over prolonged periods of time can cause grave psychiatric disorders. I strongly suspect that this is one of the problems with your Bruce, Tim."

Tim -- hitches. Twice.

Bruce loosens his grip enough to allow Tim to breathe, and -- "Was that a laugh?"

"Something like. Um. You can let go."

"No, he really can't," and Lex strokes down the bridge of Tim's nose. "You made a *grave* mistake by allowing him to think that you were in need of cuddle."

"Cuddle. I... ah. Hm." Tim shifts experimentally --

Bruce tightens his grip --

"Hnk -- okay, really, I need those ribs, Bruce."

Bruce *shifts* his grip --

"I -- also need that penis. And that throat. You... really do know a large number of Tims at this point."

"Yes."

"Thanks -- in glorious part -- to you, darling," Lex says, and sits on his heels with his hands on his own thighs. "So, what would you like to discuss while Bruce gives you some remedial primatology?"

"I -- sooner or later my color is going to even out enough that these blushes *show* --"

"Yes," Bruce says, and kisses Tim's temple. "I look forward to that."

"You. You've both been exceedingly accommodating, and I appreciate that, but --"

Lex kisses Tim, and Bruce thinks he knows that kiss. It tends to express variations on "please do shut up" and "I *love* you, you jackass" very well. Lex is an excellent communicator in every way, though there are times when Bruce wishes he could be less crude --

The desire for him to be less crude tends to fade entirely when he's doing things like this.

Bruce focuses on cutting off Tim's air periodically while petting and squeezing his scrotum.

It doesn't take long for Tim to start shaking --

And then he reaches up and cups Lex's face, pouring himself into the kiss just as if it's something which *could* be taken away from him. That --

"Never," Bruce says into Tim's ear. "Never doubt the way we feel for you."

Tim shakes *harder* -- and pulls out of the kiss to pant.

Lex bites Bruce's fingers on the way to licking between them to get to Tim's throat --

"Oh, God, wait -- ah. Wait?"

"Yes, Tim?"

Lex sits back with his tongue out and his eyebrows up. He *wiggles* his tongue --

Tim snorts -- and then blushes. "All right, that would be *more* ridiculous if I didn't know what you could do with that tongue, but it still is *somewhat* ridiculous."

Lex licks his lips and smiles. "Noted, darling. Why are we waiting...?"

"You -- ah. You and Jessica have things to discuss, and --"

"About that," Lex says, and raises an eyebrow. "I find it curious that you're so sanguine about the prospect of her staying in this universe."

That is... odd. Bruce strokes Tim's chest and tries to make the kiss he gives to Tim's cheek more interrogative than not --

And Tim laughs softly and covers Bruce's hands. "I -- both of her parents are alive."

Lex raises his eyebrow higher.

"Ah, it's only obvious to me at this point. All right," Tim says, sighing and nodding. "She's in hell. She -- well, no her mother pays *some* attention to her to make sure she dresses well and always looks tasteful and attractive, but other than that... well. Her father thinks of her as Daddy's Little Girl because she smiles for his jokes when he bothers to tell them to her -- even if she's heard them already -- and because he buys her various trinkets when he's vacationing. They don't actually speak. As for other people..." Tim smiles ruefully. "She's even more friendless than most other Tims because she's not allowed to associate with males below a certain class now that she's pubescent, and she doesn't quite *fit* with other females because she's geeky in the wrong ways and tends toward awkwardness when not being whipped into being otherwise by her mother."

Bruce winces --

And Lex frowns darkly. "You studied her."

"Extensively. She's the only female me I've found... and I've looked in on any number of universes. Well, the only *biologically* female me."

That sounds... hm. "*How* did she come to be?"

"Ah -- she knows. And can tell you that once you can be absolutely sure you have a lock on her universe."

"It's not just as matter of you not minding if she stays," Bruce says, and strokes the humped and muscular plane of Tim's abdomen. "You're invested in having her do so."

"She... she seems like a nice... me. A better me than some, with fewer chances at happiness. I thought... both of you are already fond of her," Tim says, and strokes Bruce's arm restlessly, nervously --

"We'll give her every happiness we can," Bruce promises, and pulls Tim into a position where he can be cradled to a certain extent --

"Ah -- Bruce."

Bruce doesn't rock Tim. He wants to, but -- "It's too much."

Tim is smiling at him wryly *through* a blush, which suggests... much.

As does Lex's raised eyebrow.

Bruce sighs and moves Tim back into a position of straddling Bruce's thighs, but this time he makes Tim face him. "Is this better?"

Tim's smile becomes a private one, and he strokes Bruce's shoulders firmly, testingly -- "I can't help imagining doing this with my Bruce."

Perhaps he can be Jessica's Bruce?

"It would almost certainly be good for him," Lex says, shifting to keep them both in view. "I've often taken great pleasure from having my lap... occupied. Even for non-immediately-sexual reasons. Sometimes especially for those reasons."

"Ah... you do that with Mercy."

"From time to time -- mostly when I feel like pretending to be a much older man with much more harmless lovers."

Tim laughs for that, shaking his head and smiling fondly at Lex --

"Break him, Tim. Your Lex... he probably doesn't even *have* a Hope or Mercy. Even if he does, he hasn't the foggiest clue what to *do* with them."

"Well... they do seem to take to assassination, terrorism, and outright bullying...?"

Lex frowns darkly. "They were born to rise *above* those things and terrorize the people who *need* to be terrorized. All right, look, I'll go *with* you --"

"He -- ah. He'd probably have both of us shot on *sight*, Lex."

Lex sighs. "Yes, I suppose I *would* respond that way if I let myself get that fucking *weak*. But -- *you're* Batman's partner. You could *break* into his penthouse and talk some sense into him. Preferably while stripping."

Tim laughs again. "He doesn't have *any* male lovers. He never has, according to my Clark -- who has been monitoring him for *years*."

"Yes, well, he's never seen *you* naked. You're glorious, darling. Small, yes. Scarred like the aftermath of an encounter with the Kents' *thresher*, yes. Features better-suited to a woman -- yes, *to a certain extent*. But. Taken all in all, taken with your brilliance and overall competence --"

"And resemblance to Lois Lane," Bruce says --

Lex coughs. "I -- what?"

Bruce blinks. "You *haven't* noticed? It's one of the reasons why I wasn't especially worried about Clark liking Tim once he got to know him."

"I -- well, they share a height."

"Basic coloring."

"A certain... *something* about their features --"

"Tenacity. Determination. Acumen."

"*Sharpness*," Lex says, licking his lips. "A general sense that the world is on their slab and the scalpels have *all* been sharpened."

Tim snorts. "All right, I don't know whether I feel better or worse now about the fact that I recently learned that the Lois from my universe wears the same brand of makeup that Bruce chose for my undercover adventures."

"Is he... hm." Bruce kisses Tim's temple because he can. "Do you think he's trying to offer you to Clark?"

Tim makes a strangled noise --

Bruce strokes his throat. "It would be... I've thought, more than once, about handling my more difficult moments of attraction by fixing the individual in question up with someone I feel would be more suitable."

"Hence the large number of socialites who ride my cock while hoping that *this* will be the day I admit to having threesomes with Bruce," Lex says, and his own smile is *terribly* sharp --

"They all desire you as *well*, Lex --"

"Yes, I know," and Lex waves him off. "But that doesn't make them less *hopeful*, darling."

"Some of them haven't changed since *high* school," Bruce says, and knows it's more of a bad-natured mutter than an actual speech, but --

"How much have *you* changed since high school?"

Bruce scowls at Lex -- mostly because it's what's expected. "I'm taller. *And* heavier."

Lex gets that *fond* look again --

And Tim is looking back and forth between them with avid curiosity, bemusement, attraction -- and more curiosity. "Brucie Wayne doesn't exist here."

Bruce frowns. "There are people who *call* me Brucie. I tend to treat them as excuses not to attend various parties and force Lex to be social for both of us. I then feel terribly guilty --"

"Until the next party to avoid, yes," Lex says, and runs a finger along the part of Bruce's jaw where the stubble is particularly aggressive. "I take it Brucie Wayne is some sort of persona adopted for the public eye?"

Tim blinks. "Ah... well, yes. He's... hm. A professional idiot. He trips over his own feet, mispronounces words, fawns over people who want to stab him in the eye and ignores people who want to get next to him. He wines and dines assorted socialites -- emphasis on the wine -- and finds ways to convince the most inebriated ones that they've had sex with him. Hypnosis, assorted sedatives and tranquilizers... that sort of thing. The ongoing performance makes people absolutely sure that he could never be the Batman, and I... well, I wonder how you manage that *here*."

Bruce smiles ruefully. "It almost certainly helps that everyone knows I take the subordinate role to Lex --"

"Everyone does *not* know that, Bruce. What they *know* is that you're silent and creepy and frightening, just as you were all through high school."

"Lex."

"Don't *Lex* me --"

"Lex," Bruce says, and raises his eyebrows. "They know."

"I --" Lex scowls at him. "They *think* they know, and -- that's not the same thing," and the *blackness* the scowl gains strongly suggests that Lex knows precisely how lame that was. And there are other questions.

Bruce turns back to Tim. "Tom mentioned that his Bruce did something like that. I have no idea whether he took it that *far*, though. How on earth does he manage to calibrate the dosages on the sedatives? What would he do if one of those women had an allergy?"

"I honestly don't know. My Bruce... he allowed me a certain amount of freedom from thoughts like those. I know he knew that I was gay before I was *remotely* ready to fully accept that about myself... anyway. I think he hoped that I wouldn't have to do something like that when it got to be... my turn. If -- when I do talk to him, I'll mention that at least some Bruces manage to do well enough without all the pretense," Tim says, and smiles wryly. "Though I have to admit that a part of me is screaming at the rest about *making* you come up with a reasonably innocuous public persona."

"I don't think you *can* convince me that it would be a good idea to start a program of systematically drugging innocents, Tim," and Bruce brushes a lock of hair behind Tim's ear. "I do know that I should attend more parties. Reclusiveness is automatically *interesting* to a certain class of people."

Lex hums. "So you *do* listen to me."

"Always," Bruce says, and smiles again. "Though I'm often quite good at ignoring the things you say when you're not using one of your wonderful belts."

Lex *snorts* and turns to Tim. "I don't suppose your Bruce has anyone to administer the regular whippings he so desperately requires?"

Tim's expression... quirks.

"That looks like an answer you're not sure how to give," and Bruce takes the opportunity to pull Tim slightly closer.

Tim strokes Bruce's shoulders and looks down, scanning something within his own mind at speed. It's achingly familiar -- Tom had had that precise expression *countless* times -- and now Bruce knows more about what it means: Tim is searching for a way to share without causing damage to the timeline.

Such *care* --

And Lex twines his fingers with Tim's own, getting the tension of surprise followed by a smile as quick as it's warm --

Lex *squeezes* Tim's hand. "Darling. You *can* just say 'it's complicated.'"

"Ah -- yes. It's just that a very large part of me *wants* to damage that particular aspect of the near future. It -- she's not *good* for Bruce. It -- well, it's part of *why* I have so many doubts about what good I could do for the Lex from my world, because Bruce has tried to rehabilitate... this particular woman countless times. And really, if *Bruce* can't convince someone who commits relatively *petty* crimes to --"

"Stop," Lex says, and raises an eyebrow.

Tim blinks -- "Ah. You're about to question my urge to denigrate myself in comparison to Bruce, aren't you?"

Bruce and Lex nod together --

Tim laughs softly. "Noted. I'll just... push that aside for the time being --"

"Forever, please," and the interesting thing is that Bruce knows immediately that it wasn't him who had spoke -- or. Perhaps it's not interesting, at all, considering the events of the past few days.

The Bruce walking silently into the room is wearing a Batsuit which is much darker and more... *belligerent* than Bruce's own. The spikes on the gauntlets are long and obviously stiffened, the armor is thicker and provides more bulk, the 'ears' on the cowl seem to be *razor*-sharp --

Lex sighs. "And this is what happens when you're allowed to dress *yourself*, I see. I take it you've come to retrieve the Tim from your universe...?"

Tim looks *stricken* with embarrassment. He's trying to cover himself --

Bruce pulls him closer and tries to *will* the tension in his body to ease. "It's all right --"

"Yes," the other Bruce says, and takes a step closer to the bed. "It's all right."

Tim frowns and stares -- *glares* -- down at the bed, and then his eyes are tracking quickly. His cheeks and the back of his neck are flushed red and his hands are balled into fists --

And Lex *cups* the back of Tim's neck. "You don't *have* to go anywhere."

The other Bruce stiffens minutely. It's perhaps something most people wouldn't notice -- unless they had a heavily-armored and concealing uniform of their own and they had stood in front of mirrors to practice aspects of presence and form for hours. *Bruce* notices, and gives himself leave to cup Tim's hands in his own.

"Lex is absolutely correct, Tim."

"You -- you need to focus on *Jessica* --"

"Oh, we will," Lex says, and massages the back of Tim's neck. "There *are* three of us -- and only two of you."

"Unless... are you not attracted to Clark?"

Tim laughs, shocked and breathy. "Ah -- no. I mean. That wouldn't be the problem," Tim says, and smiles wryly --

"Clark has... come to me about you," the other Bruce says, and he sounds *pained* --

And Bruce knows he would sound just the same in that position, for all that he can't imagine ever leaving a Tim so alone that he could think to do *this* --

"I --" Tim shakes his head and moves away from Bruce and Lex, tugging his hands free and then using them to pull the duvet over his lap.

This time, the other Bruce doesn't stiffen, but Bruce knows he must *want* to --

"What -- what has he... asked?"

"Mostly questions about your emotional wellbeing," and the other Bruce smiles wryly. "Questions I felt uniquely unqualified to answer... though, to be fair, I believe I've never truly been qualified to answer such things."

Tim frowns and shakes his head again. "I can't -- I'm not. You have to know I'm not... right."

The other Bruce clenches his own hands into fists -- relaxes them and pushes back his cowl, revealing hair with grey streaks at the temples, deeper lines cut at his mouth and eyes... and no facial scarring.

The sight -- or perhaps the fact -- makes Tim squeezes his eyes shut, and Bruce *can't* just --

But when he reaches to cup Tim's shoulder, Tim blocks him with swift grace which is only brutal for how it *feels*. "Tim..."

"I'm -- let me think."

"I need you. To come home," the other Bruce says, and sounds even more pained than before --

Tim laughs and pins him with a glance. "You don't --"

"I do," and the other Bruce takes another step closer to the bed. "You don't have to -- we can find a way to make the situation less... intolerable."

"I -- Bruce. If that were *possible* --"

"I didn't think you'd step through. I knew what you were building, of course, and I knew that you were monitoring the lives of other Tims, but I didn't think --" the other Bruce cuts himself off and shakes his head once. "I knew you needed... something with which to fill your time. I wish -- please don't leave."

Tim's frown cuts deep into his features. "Bruce --"

"Tell me. What you need."

Tim turns away, jaw working --

And Lex shifts to lie back on his elbows with his legs outstretched. "*You* ought to know that won't work."

The other Bruce frowns, but doesn't quite look at Lex --

Lex sighs. "I won't disappear -- or change into some more appropriate lustful male of the species if you ignore me, Bruce."

The other Bruce closes his eyes -- but only for a moment. "I'm afraid I haven't had quite so much time to grow accustomed to you not being someone I'm duty-bound to fight at every turn."

"Well," Lex says, and smiles sharply. "Tims *are* infinitely more adaptable than Bruces."

"Yes," Bruce says, and reaches tentatively for Tim --

And this time, when Tim blocks him, he rubs his knuckles against Bruce's palm before dropping his hand again. It's another mixed message, but it's a welcome one.

Bruce closes his hand against the sense-memory of the touch and then turns to the other Bruce. "You've yet to convince us that it would be a good idea to stop trying to convince Tim to stay."

The other Bruce hums, and when he meets Bruce's gaze, all Bruce can think is that he's being laid bare. This Bruce's age is far more apparent in his eyes than anywhere else -- but Bruce is not an infant.

"You pull on the trappings of wisdom and measured thought in order to project a certain image -- and you're obviously quite successful at it -- but I've already begun to learn the things you have --"

"From Lex Luthor."

"From my *brother*," Bruce corrects, and strokes a careful line just beyond the flesh of Tim's shoulder. "And from my other brothers, as well."

The other Bruce grunts. "This greed you've allowed yourself --"

"Pleasure. Warmth. Companionship. The truth of beauty in the midst of terror and pain. It's a lesson all Bruces need to learn."

The other Bruce shakes his head. "Not when the learning of it leaves you so weakened that you cannot continue the Mission --"

"That was *grief*, Bruce! And -- and --" Tim growls and jabs at the air between him and the other Bruce. "*Nobody* can function perfectly when they're grieving. That's part of what being *human* means, and I -- I want to be human," Tim says, and smiles ruefully. "At least. That's what I think I want. I don't know for sure. I'm -- really a mess. You should let me put myself back together a little before --"

"Tim."

"I know. I know. I'm out of *practice* at this -- this stand-and-deliver *thing* you like to do so much," and Tim laughs again. "Just -- go back to your universe --"

"*Our* universe --"

Tim's breath hitches and he frowns again. "Oh -- yes. Of course --"

"Do you. Do you need me to beg?"

Tim blinks rapidly --

Lex raises both eyebrows very high --

And Bruce nods internally. Honesty must be given. *Truth* even more so --

"Beg. You --" Tim frowns again. "What exactly are you saying, Bruce?"

When the other Bruce smiles, it's a cold thing. It's *constrained*, stiff and small and *unworthy* --

But Tim seems to drink it in. He's leaning forward as if the smile is something *good* --

How much loss and absence had this Bruce *inflicted* on him --

"Tim," the other Bruce says, and reaches out --

The other Bruce frowns at himself -- at his gauntlet. And then he strips it off, revealing a hand more pale than Bruce's own, softened with sweat --

He reaches out again, and this time Tim touches his palm lightly with his fingertips --

And he sighs in a way that manages to fail to release any tension, at all. That --

Bruce rolls to his feet and moves into a position --

"I will not injure him," the other Bruce says, holding himself still, but --
 
Lex frowns and sits up. "You're damned right you're not going to --"

"*Stop*," Tim says, and *grips* the other Bruce's hand hard enough to cause pain --

The other Bruce narrows his eyes, nods, and breathes out the tension he's holding. "I have never had any right to you, Tim. I do know that --"

"Wait, *what*?"

He smiles. "You came to me fully by choice. You had lost nothing. You *required* nothing. And, when you left, you *took* nothing --"

"That's not -- *Bruce*. That's not even *remotely* --"

"No? There are no keepsakes in your bedroom in the manor. You were never invested in taking trophies from enemies you've bested --"

"The -- the *reports*. The training. The chance to be *near* you -- I -- *damn* it --" And Tim turns his back on the other Bruce, crossing his arms over his chest - he stops and fists his hands at his sides, breathing sharply and evenly and glaring at nothing --

And the other Bruce walks a half-pace closer. "You moved through my life like a ghost --"

"Stop," Bruce says, shaking his head. "You must not blame him for who he is --"

"No, I -- that's not --" The other Bruce grunts and drops his hands to his sides. "I have -- I offer no blame."

"Then what, pray tell, *do* you offer?" And Lex is moving closer to Tim. He doesn't try to touch -- he's always had so much more *control* than that -- but --

Tim doesn't reject the closeness --

"I offer... the same things I have always offered --"

"You can't give me what I need, Bruce," Tim says, and his voice is low, tired --

He's gazing at nothing save the *carpeting* --

And the other Bruce clenches his hands into fists -- "Please."

Tim stiffens --

The other Bruce nods. "Please. I need. You *told* me what I needed --"

"And you *have* it. You --" Tim growls sharply and stiffens more -- before blowing out a breath and visibly relaxing himself.

"You're angry with me for -- please, Tim. She isn't a *replacement* for you save in the shallowest possible --"

Tim whirls on the other Bruce, stalking close and jabbing at the stylized bat on his chest. "You will *not* take this -- this *weakness* as an excuse not to give her everything she needs as your *partner*!"

"No, I --"

"You -- and the Birds -- have jerked her around for *years*. You know exactly what her strengths and weaknesses are, and if you're *not* eradicating those weaknesses with a will --"

"I have not -- stinted on her training --"

"And you *know* that's not the whole of being her *partner* --"

"Did I -- no. I was not there for you. Not enough --"

"And you're not *being* there for me by depriving *her* --"

"You love her still --"

Tim growls again, nostrils flaring --

And the other Bruce nods. "Yes. Yes, I see," he says, and swallows audibly. "I will... do better --"

Tim snorts -- "Do you even know *how* to?"

"Almost certainly not," Bruce says, and keeps his eyes on the other Bruce's shoulders and neck. If there'll be a move --

But the other Bruce would know that *they* know how to counter him. Where to *look*? The man's eyes are full of countless unchecked emotions -- they're painful to consider. The man's hands are *shaking* --

"Please," the other Bruce says again, and touches Tim's shoulder lightly, carefully -- "I don't know -- every time you leave there is a *hole* in me --"

"I'm not D-- your first partner --"

"No, you're not. You --" The other Bruce shakes his head and *grips* Tim's shoulder --

"Let go."

"Please don't -- make me do that."

Tim frowns and seems to search his own mind for answers, moments of truth -- "I leave all the *time* --"

"And sometimes... sometimes you go so very far. So very --" The other Bruce licks his lips and searches *Tim* -- "It's only... she's had such negative and shallow relationships with her parents. She has no context to understand why you would accede to your father's wishes. She -- I'm sure if you *spoke* with her --"

"Are you using *Steph* to get me to come back?"

"*Tim* --"

Tim waves a hand. "They know her name, and even some amount of her personality. I -- it's a long story. Suffice it to say --" Tim frowns again. "I won't *let* you sink low enough to use her --"

"Will you seek to control me? Would you command my thoughts and desires?"

"I'm not *any* of your lovers --"

"Was I supposed to seduce? The boy a generation my junior? The boy who looked at me -- the way you *looked* at me --- Tim."

Tim blushes. "I was... young. I was an *idiot* --"

"You were faithful to your dreams of the Dark Knight," the other Bruce says, and smiles ruefully. "I realize now that some of your silence around me was courtesy and caution at once -- I was not at my best when we met, and I needed to believe I could be strong --"

"It's not fucking *strength* --"

"No? Then perhaps I needed to believe I could live alone again --"

"Yes, I believe I was precisely that foolish once," Bruce says, and turns to Tim. "If you choose him... you must be ruthless, Tim. You must not... hn. Waver."

Lex chokes and throws a pillow at him. "*Stop* that."

Tim is frowning again --

And the other Bruce looks stricken for long enough --

That Tim's expression gains a certain depth of knowledge.

The other Bruce turns away --

Tim moves to face him. "The Bat."

"You're not -- ready --"

"I'll never *be* ready for a fucked-up voice in my head that makes me have arguments with empty uniforms and disembodied *voices*, Bruce. I --" Tim breathes in sharply, clenches his fists --

Tim *beats* at the bat on the other Bruce's chest with one fist --

"Tim --"

"Is that what you need, Bruce? To know that I'd fight for you? That I'd fight just to *have* you?"

The other Bruce frowns and shakes his head. "It's not -- it's wrong. It would be wrong for us to act on our attraction -- please don't."

Tim pauses in the act of turning away from Bruce again. "I feel -- I'm not going to beg *you*, Bruce --"

"No. You shouldn't. You should never --" Bruce grips both of Tim's shoulders and squeezes hard enough to make Tim wince --

Lex stands --

Bruce relaxes his grip slightly. "I won't. With... my second partner, I lost myself to obsession and greed. There was never a moment when I could fully consider what needed to be done for the Mission, never a moment when I was free from the memory of his scent, his flavors, his beautiful body --" He swallows again. "I lost myself, and so failed him. I *proved* to myself the truth of all my fears, and when I held his broken body in my arms, a part of me was *unsurprised* --"

"Oh, *please*," Tim says, spinning away from Bruce's grasp and glaring at him again. "You're trying to tell me that you'd be too *fuck*-dumb if the two of us were involved?"

"*Yes*, Tim --"

"Right. Sure," and Tim is sneering. "And I'm supposed to believe in that even though you managed nearly four *years* in close contact with me without falling on me like a pack of starving wolves?"

"I never. I never allowed myself to *enjoy* your touch --"

"Bruce," and Tim looks at *him* again, "are you capable of that?"

"Of distancing myself from even my most powerful emotions? Yes, Tim. It doesn't always work terribly well, but if I then keep myself away -- to at least some extent -- from those things and people which trigger those emotions --"

"He can make a painfully *cold* ass of himself," Lex says, and folds his hands over his chest. "It tends to make Mercy scowl enough to ruin the lines of her face while Hope plots his painfully messy demise for stealing her shtick. The fact that he *can* do it doesn't mean he *should*."

Bruce nods --

And Tim narrows his eyes and nods thoughtfully.

The other Bruce sighs quietly. "You understand."

*Tim* scowls -- and then he laughs humorlessly before turning back to the other Bruce. "You *could* just try to have meaningful relationships more often than every few *years* --"

"I have --"

"No, Bruce. You've *fucked* more often than once every few years. You may have even made *love* that often. But then you buttoned yourself back up until the women in question wised up and deserted you. *Jason* is the only person you've ever had a relationship with where you *had* to look him in the eye every day --"

"I -- Harvey."

Tim raises his eyebrow... and then nods. "All right, that *does* fit with your history. Of course, you *were* a teenager...?"

The other Bruce looks more haunted than anything else -- but he nods.

And Tim nods back. "I believe you see what I'm saying? Hell, *I* see it, and I owe Lex an apology --"

Lex waves a hand. "Just take it as read from now on that all Bruces are more gay than not and we'll call it even."

Tim smiles at Lex brightly --

Lex smiles back --

"Don't *leave* --"

"Forgive me, Bruce, but you *are* asking me to accept a life of austere romantic and sexual privation in a world where I can't even fight crime to blow off steam, yes?"

"Your *brother*, Tim. He'll give you everything you need --"

"No. He can't, and you *know* that --"

"You would allow him to live without you? Steph, as well? And what of your former teammates?"

Tim tilts his head to the side. "You'd use anything and anyone."

"Don't leave. You -- you've always --" The other Bruce clenches his jaw. "You mustn't think I don't *need* you, that I don't *dream* of you --"

"Do you masturbate while thinking of me?"

Bruce pants *once* -- "Yes."

"Have you watched me masturbating while thinking of you?"

"You -- I can't -- sometimes you speak my names."

Tim nods *slowly*. "Tell me what you're never going to do to me."

"Tim --"

"Let me *hear* it --"

"Everything. There is... I would never injure you, but I've still considered it. Along with... many other things. Tim, it's not -- I know it's hard at your age --"

"At *my* age, you were screwing Harvey *Dent*."

"I didn't -- recognize the signs --"

"Would you have stopped if you had?"

The other Bruce looks pained again. "I would have... gotten help for him. I was never as strong as you --"

"Go back to -- the other universe --"

"*Tim* --"

"We're on... fundamentally different sides, here. You don't have what I need... and it is need. Need for touch, need for work, need for the chance to make a difference in even *one* life --" Tim cuts himself off and walks into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

The other Bruce is either considering breaking the door down or simply... simply gazing at the wreckage of what must be only the *latest* --

Bruce shudders, and walks over to grip the man's shoulder, noting that even the *feel* of the armor is different -- another time. "You'd managed, up until this point, to keep him."

"There were... times when I thought he would leave for good and all. Never like this, of course..." and the other Bruce laughs softly and brushes Bruce's hand from his shoulder. "I must respect his wishes above -- I must. It's the only thing I *can* do --"

"Not to shoot myself in the *cock*," Lex says, and raises an eyebrow, "but you do have more than one option."

"No. He doesn't truly understand the man that I am. He doesn't know how... how I love --"

"Have you given him the chance to *come* to know it?" And Bruce knows his tone is insulting, but --

The other Bruce bares his teeth, but doesn't turn away from the door. "You will come to regret every moment you didn't spend honing your skills and the skills of your partners. The regret will *choke* you, and then your only choice will be to get back up and pretend it doesn't *exist* --"

"No," Bruce says. "Then -- assuming it even happens -- the only task I will have will be to ask myself whether I considered it to be worth it to give my time over to love and companionship -- and what my lovers and brothers would have to say to that question."

"When they are not there, they *cannot* answer --"

"We are ourselves, Bruce. I've made my lovers answer that question countless times, in countless ways."

And the other Bruce looks hurt, looks lost and *lonely* -- "I can't. I can't risk --"

"Losing him, Bruce...? Because I think you've found an *excellent* way to do just that," and Lex taps on his left biceps with the fingers of his right hand.

"I never thought he would ask for this from me --"

"He *needs* you, you ass -- Bruce, help."

"We are not capable of feeding on pain and emptiness," Bruce says, and moves a step closer to the other Bruce. "We tell ourselves that we are, and we're even convincing about it. However, sooner or later, we are driven toward that which we desire -- and nothing can stop us --"

"You lack *control* --"

"I'm willing to debate the point... but not with a man too needy to keep himself from stalking his love and too cowardly to share that need *with* his love."

The other Bruce grunts. "I will not -- force him to return with me --"

"You'll just use that handy portal every time you want to ask him for something?"

Bruce raises his eyebrow to emphasize Lex's question --

"I'll -- destroy it --"

"And the knowledge of how to build it in your mind?"

"There are countless universes. I have not memorized the multiversal coordinates of *this* one --"

"You could," Lex says, and smiles cruelly, "always search for the universe with *two* Timmish biological signatures."

"Three, assuming Janet Drake is pregnant."

"One for each of us," and Lex is *grinning* now --

"Hm. You're assuming that we would stop looking for other Tims who need... help."

"I have no doubt in my mind that *that* Tim can direct us accordingly --"

"*Stop*," the other Bruce says, glaring at both of them as if they're misbehaving *schoolboys* --

Bruce raises an eyebrow, and knows that Lex is raising one of his own --

And the other Bruce makes a sound like a growling *grunt* and squeezes his eyes shut for two full seconds.

"May we *help* you in some way, *Batman*?"

"Luthor --"

"My name is *Lex*."

The other Bruce clenches his hands into fists. "What. What do you propose I do *when* I chase Tim away with my pathetic *excuse* for love?"

"Find him and apologize for a start," Bruce says, and crosses his arms over his chest. "Heartfelt apologies are a wonderful social lubricant."

Lex coughs. "Sometimes, when you quote me, I get the distinct urge to never open my mouth again, darling."

"That would be a terrible tragedy. I promise to start misquoting you two-thirds of the time. Darling."

Lex smiles warmly at him -- and then turns to glare at the other Bruce. "This isn't some carnival game where you only get three chances for your dollar. This is *life* --"

"In life, there are sometimes no chances, at all," the other Bruce intones --

"Darling, break his nose."

"It would almost certainly lead to him wiping the proverbial floor with me, Lex."

Lex growls. "Are you saying he can *take* you?"

Bruce smiles ruefully. "He's had that much more time to hone himself."

Lex's sigh speaks eloquently about the problematic state of the world --

"You both. You have no comprehension of how quickly your world can fall *apart* --"

"Tim left us when we were sixteen," Bruce says. "I watched him step through a hole in the world..." Bruce shakes his head and smiles ruefully. "He gave me just enough time to addict me to a world of touch, of love, of honest words spoken from the heart..."

Lex snorts. "I had *less*... but perhaps I'm just quicker on the uptake than Bruce. We've been without him for a *decade*, Batman. Loss? Is a *starting* place."

Bruce raises his eyebrow higher. "And you should know that by now."

The other Bruce narrows his eyes, and Bruce knows he's remembering *that* night. The twitch of his mother's hand, the stink of cordite and blood --

And the first time Bruce had smelled his own blood after that -- a sharp stone held incorrectly in the Cave -- had led to him being curled on himself against gritty stone as he whimpered --

And listened to a voice with no sound speaking of destiny, and all the other things -- the *only* things -- which could take him away from that alley. Still --

"You aren't *eight*, anymore," Lex says, jabbing the other Bruce's chest. "It's over, and there's nothing you can do about it until you can figure out how to travel backwards in time in your *own* universe --"

"And, if you did, it would be an obscenity," Bruce says, and waits --

The other Bruce's nostrils flare. It won't be long --

"The. That night was the *first* obscenity --"

"No, it wasn't. There were many more before that, and you've helped to avert the obscenities which came after -- which is something you wouldn't be able to do --"

The other Bruce clenches his fists --

"Listen to *reason*, you ass --"

"Reason. You use reason as a *weapon* --"

"Against the *deserving*," Lex says, and laughs breathlessly. "Remember who you're *dealing* with, Batman."

"I'm not -- him. At this moment," Bruce says, and frowns blackly at the floor -- and at the bathroom door.

Lex is gearing up to say something else, but when Bruce gestures him to stand down, he does.

Bruce knows what this means. He -- "It always hurt you that your partners wouldn't take back their terrible tragedies if it meant having to give you up."

The other Bruce swallows and closes his eyes -- it's enough of an answer.

"You thought Tim was different."

"He -- he had what the others did not. What *I* did not. And he never -- he gave them his *time* --"

"The Mission still came first."

"Yes, but --"

"The needs -- emotional and otherwise -- of the family came first."

The other Bruce narrowed his eyes. "I didn't. I allowed him to -- he went *home* to them. He stayed with them. He allowed them to take him *away*, night after night --"

"When you would've had nothing of the kind."

"He sleeps on his stomach. He... when he stirs for my presence, he frowns so deeply. So -- even in his sleep," and the other Bruce swallows again. "He knows I don't belong --"

"He knows he's needed, and he tries to wake for it. Even with your silence."

"I thought... that I was doing a right thing," and the other Bruce pinches the bridge of his nose, breathes roughly and audibly --

"One of the reasons he will stay with us -- if you continue to fail -- has nothing whatsoever to do with you."

"L--Lex."

"No. His father."

The other Bruce's frown is confused, *deep* -- "He... wishes to escape him?"

"And his own impulses when he is near to the man."

The other Bruce shows his teeth --

"He wishes to avoid another obscenity -- but he has nothing with which to bank his darker impulses. He is... alone."

"We are -- never alone," the other Bruce says, and shakes his head once --

"He has never had the Bat... and would you truly wish it on him? I've offered him the one positive thing I had to give for that voice and he was intrigued, even though he's seen you at the heights -- and depths -- of your madness. He is that lonely."

"Alone. He must never --" And the other Bruce moves rapidly, fluidly to the door, working the knob --

Tim had locked the door.

The other Bruce turns his *fingernails* against the door -- and then breathes in sharply and steps back. "Tim... please."

Tim's laugh is muffled. "The door is too *thick* for me to tell which of you that *is*."

"It's. I stopped forcing you to take my rubdowns because the sound of your moans drove me to my knees within myself. I have tasted your sweat hundreds of times in my mind. I have massaged you until you begged for a rougher touch *countless* times. I have imagined your cries. I have penetrated you with my tongue, and tasted the massage oil to make the fantasies more... more. I have penetrated you with my penis and cried *out* --"

Tim yanks open the door --

"*Please*."

Tim is blushing and he looks angry, *dark* --

"If. With... my second partner, I told myself that his drives and hungers matched my own. I blinded myself to his very real concerns and deafened myself to his questions. I -- I ran *roughshod* over him --"

"I wouldn't *let* you do that to me --"

"Say. Say that again, Tim. Please."

Tim frowns and rears back slightly. "That I wouldn't let you take over my *life* -- *fuck* --"

The other Bruce has lifted Tim against him. He's holding Tim by the hip and the *throat* --

"I *watched* you, Tim --"

"Bruce --"

"I thought. I saw you develop new hobbies, new *knowledge*. I watched you do your best to improve the lives of your *others* --"

"Bruce, my -- I can't *breathe* -- *hnk* --"

Bruce stops Lex from interfering --

Tim's eyes are so *wide* --

"This, too, I watched. And I longed to *bite* your throat hard enough that I could feel the breaths you took in my *teeth*."

His eyes are wider *still* --

"You don't. You don't understand my *need*, Tim. But you will. I promise you," and the other Bruce loosens his grip just enough for Tim to take brief sips of air --

"Bruce. You. I don't -- I can't help but think - you were talked *into* this --"

"I am a *fool*. This has always been the case. This -- " The other Bruce shakes his head and shows his teeth again. "I've needed my partners -- my *family* -- to *teach*. And I have done everything in my power to make that difficult for them. For *you* --"

"Bruce --"

"I will not ever let you go, Tim. You... please come to understand that *quickly*, because, once you do, every possibility will be open to us. Every kink. Every question. Every game. Every *truth* --"

"Oh -- God. I -- what?"

The other Bruce offers the smile of a predator. "The first truth: A part of me longs to *bury* your objections and logical fears in sensation. Pleasure and pain for both of us -- but especially for you. Tim. If I took you now... do you think you would bleed?"

Tim makes a strangled noise -- and then narrows his eyes. "Are you trying to frighten me or *seduce* me?"

"The answer is yes. *Always*."

Tim licks his teeth and nods slowly -- and then he cups the other Bruce's face. "When I tell you that you *can't* chase me, you *will* listen --"

"Tim --"

"No. *Argument*."

The other Bruce rumbles in obvious pleasure -- "Noted. What are your other rules?"

"I -- I have to think about that --"

Lex coughs -- it's a false cough, with the words 'your Lex' buried in the rough noise.

Tim snorts and pushes his hands into the other Bruce's short hair. "Oh, yes. I reserve the right to enter into romantic and sexual relationships with other people --"

"I reserve the right to watch... and learn."

Tim flushes, seeming to become aware of his nudity, or perhaps of his position. He drags his inner thigh against the other Bruce's armor --

The other Bruce narrows his eyes. "Come home with me."

"Which. Which home --"

"I'm going to make love to you in your parents' house. From there... we can choose."

Tim shudders. "I. You'll have to. Gag me."

Lex pulls something small and black from the bedside table and tosses it --

Tim catches it out of the air, and Bruce can see that it's a very... particular sort of pacifier. Tim makes a *choked* noise -- "Ah... thank you, Lex."

"In return, I'd like an invite to the wedding."

Tim snorts again --

"The tripartite wedding, of course."

Bruce hums. "You're forgetting Clark."

"No, no, Clark will *be* the other groom. *I* will be officiating. And taking my payment out in trade."

"I see," Bruce says, and notes the other Bruce walking out with Tim -- and not his clothes. He -

He has to let them go.

Lex, for his part, is not looking at them, at all -- save for the space behind his eyes which Bruce knows is filled with the two of them, and many other things besides.

Distraction... wouldn't be amiss. "I didn't know you were averse to marriage, Lex."

Lex blinks, and the smile on his face is a grateful one, soft and young -- until he pulls himself back from some terrible brink by main force. "I'm *not*," he says, and stands straight, preparing to lecture. "However, *when* I marry, it will be to someone who is absolutely devoted to me and *only* me."

Bruce raises an eyebrow. "You want to marry Mercy?"

"I --" And Lex actually looks around for people *listening* --

"Lex?"

"*Yes*, damn it. And she'd kill me in my *sleep* if she knew it."

"That... is probable. But if you want your future spouse to be monogamous, it seems as though you should try to be the same."

"Ah, but that's where you're wrong, darling. Are you ready to be educated?"

Bruce raises an eyebrow in lieu of laughing -- the former suits the mood rather better.

Lex studies Bruce's eyes and smiles, bright and rapacious -- "Yes, I see that you are. If I tried to be monogamous, I would just be cruelly getting my spouse's *hopes* up, dooming us both to failure, recrimination, and incremental losses of *trust* --"

"Or you could *be* monogamous --"

"Bruce. Darling. *Try to keep up*."

This time, Bruce bites the tip of his tongue to keep from laughing. "You're right, I'm sorry. I'm not sure what I was thinking."

"It's the scent of all the Tim-come in the air. You're clearly drunk."

And you're not? But Bruce nods solemnly --

And Lex's smile is briefly private, bladed and aimed at himself -- it passes, and becomes something rather more inviting. "Ah -- I. Yes. Where was I?"

"Explaining to me that it would be better for you to cheat on your future spouse from the very beginning while not allowing him or her to do the same."

"Oh, *that*. I -- hm. Well. He or she would have sister-wives. Brother-wives, too. And --"

"Are you converting to one of the more... broad-minded religions?"

"Darling, I *will* cut you."

"Hm. Noted. All of the sibling-wives will be devoted to you and only you?"

"They -- yes. I'll build them a... compound. In the desert --"

"Do you like the desert?"

"The sun *shines* there, Bruce, of *course* I like it. And hate it."

Bruce *licks* his teeth -- "As opposed to *only* hating it."

The light in Lex's eyes is dancing, hectic -- "Yes, that. In any event, in their compound there'll be books, a movie theater, a home gym, several world-class chefs, any number of -- ah... pets?"

Bruce nods solemnly again. "Pets are important. They'll need companionship during the long, lonely days of waiting for your favor."

Lex makes a sound reminiscent of a pig having his snout squeezed firmly.

Bruce raises an eyebrow.

Lex coughs into his fist. "I -- have no idea what I was trying to say."

"I believe that's entirely fair, as neither do I."

"You, my friend --"

"Brother."

"You, my brother-friend, are a giant, *gaping* asshole."

Bruce... pictures.

And frowns.

And tries to stop picturing.

"I'm almost sure you deserved that."

Bruce wipes a hand over his face --

"Oh. Oh, no --"

And turns his most hangdog expression on Lex. As always, it makes Lex give him a deeply *stricken* look while he searches for something to do or say which will make Bruce break character.

"Bruce."

Bruce makes his lip tremble.

Lex recoils -- "Bruce --"

Bruce sniffs and blinks back imaginary tears.

"Sweet jumping little people, I'm going to get Jess to *stab* you --"

"Lex, I..." Hm. He can make his voice more choked -- "It's only -- I love you so *much* --"

Lex punches Bruce -- lightly -- in the abdomen.

Bruce coughs out his air, breathes deep -- "Shall we join Miss Drake and Miss Terrell?"

Lex laughs quietly and gets the focused expression he tends to use when he's consulting his time sense -- "They'll be coming back down to the lab soon enough. Let's use this time to make sure we can travel back and forth to her universe easily -- just in case."

"As you say. Though being caught in a teenaged girl's bedroom has never been a desire of mine."

Lex sighs somewhat dreamily and wraps his arm around Bruce's shoulders. "You have *so* much to learn, darling."

This has always been the case.

*

It had been surprising to hear two different voices which registered in the part of Clark's mind belonging only to Tim Drake. Surprising enough that Clark had flown close enough to see before listening for more detail, and so he'd been faced with the sight of Bruce and Lex making love to a Tim who must have seemed even more like Tom than all of the others. He'd been older and heavily-scarred --

And Jessica had told him precisely who he was and what he'd been *doing* during a rest she was taking from Hope's teaching. *That* made him seem even *more* Tom-like, and Clark had spent time wondering if they planned to keep Jessica *and* that Tim --

But then the other Bruce had arrived, and Clark had felt himself seize for the roughness of his voice, the *obvious* age --

He stayed in the gymnasium, though, and monitored as best he could while *also* monitoring Hope and Jessica slashing and jabbing at each other in what looked like the most dangerous possible ways.

Jessica is quite good with the blades -- though they're obviously sized for larger hands -- but it's clear that she's becoming tired now. That's more than enough reason to bring more of his focus to bear --

Bruce and Lex seem to be doing a good *enough* job at making that other Bruce see reason --

It's only that *injuries* happen when one or both parties is tired, and while he has learned to trust Hope's professionalism --

Hope blocks a slash with her padded arm, steps back -- "Time."

Clark smiles ruefully. Her professionalism is, truly the best.

Jessica bows with the blade held in a 'safe' position, flips it over her fingers, and hands it to Hope hilt-first.

Hope's own bow is quick, but not perfunctory. It's ruler-perfect -- "You are already quite excellent at defense, Jessica. It was clear to me that most of your mistakes in that respect were due to the blade's size."

Jessica laughs, light and high and only faintly musical compared to most young women her age -- "I... am glad it was clear to *you*, Hope. I'm afraid it was all rather muddy during your last attack."

Hope tilts her head to the side for a moment - and then nods. "Yes. In retrospect, I can see how you were... fighting more instinctually. This is something you must cultivate within yourself."

"It -- I. It's hard."

"Yes, for someone like you," Hope says, and raises her eyebrows. "It was wrong of me to assume that you merely needed time to warm up. You were... over-thinking things."

"Um -- probably? Ah... that wasn't supposed to be a question."

"I believe it was. I believe a part of you was hoping for me to offer another theory to explain your earlier stiffness."

*Jessica* smiles ruefully and reties her ponytail, which had started to become loose and uneven. "Yes, I believe you're right. I already know I tend to over-think more than I don't. My senseis have done their best to make me understand --"

The move Hope makes *isn't* too fast to see -- thankfully, as Clark can *also* see that the knife-slash won't hit --

Jessica drops and rolls out of range, reaching for a weapon that she doesn't have -- "Ah. Um?"

Hope nods once and sheathes the knife. "When I did that to you earlier, you flinched. You are tired enough that fighting exhaustion is sapping your ability to lose... focus."

"Yes. Probably. Ah -- do you have suggestions?"

"Lionel Luthor has spies within this corporation. Mercy and I remove them as we find them, but there are always more, as Lionel Luthor is willing to spend prohibitive amounts of money on this particular project. You have been introduced to several employees, and those employees will talk to others. By the end of business today, one or more of the spies will report your existence to the spymaster. By tomorrow morning, Lionel Luthor will know that Mercy has a 'niece,' and that that 'niece' spent the day with Lex. You'll be seen more often... and then you'll be a target. Perhaps by the end of next week, perhaps sooner. My suggestion is to treat each fight as one for your life, because it will be."

Jessica's eyes are wide, but the scent of her *fear* is mild. She is, quite clearly, deep in thought. She --

And Hope is looking at him expectantly.

"Ah... yes, Hope?"

"She should have this confirmed by someone other than myself."

Jessica blinks and focuses. "I assure you, Hope, that I believed every word."

Hope tilts her head to the side. "You do not find me... difficult?"

"Well -- you're very intimidating, of course, but you have no reason to lie about something like that."

Hope blinks once. "You retain the memories of every Tim who... passed through this universe."

Another rueful smile. "Yes, actually. Though the physical memories are rather difficult to integrate."

"Yes, that makes sense. Still, you should listen to Clark."

"All right, Hope," Jessica says, and smiles at her before turning to raise her eyebrow at him.

Clark clears his throat. "You'll be in less danger -- probably -- with Lex in close proximity, because Lionel Luthor periodically tells himself that he's a *good* father --"

"Oh, that's -- disgusting. All right, please, continue."

Clark nods. "You'll constantly be in danger near Bruce in public spaces, and this seems to be the case no matter *what* public space it is. When the Wayne Foundation opened a recreation center for underprivileged youth, *several* assassins infiltrated posing as media personnel, even though there were nearly one hundred and fifty children in attendance."

Jessica bites her lip thoughtfully -- "Yes, that makes sense. And I'm assuming that sticking close to Mercy and Hope is out of the question?"

Clark spreads his hands. "Bruce and Lex may very well ask you to do just that, but their duties are such that it would almost certainly be best for you to stay where Hope and Mercy *put* you at any given time," and Clark looks a question to Hope --

"Yes," Hope says, and gathers the different knives they've used before placing them lovingly in their case. "I will also be teaching you how to scramble effectively, and when to hide."

"This... is very intimidating," Jessica says, and laughs nervously --

Hope tenses. "You must not allow fear to take you from Lex's side."

Jessica blinks rapidly. "I wasn't -- I mean. I still don't know... how I'm going to tell my parents. About my decision."

Hope searches Jessica's eyes, frowns -- "Clark. Ask her if she will stay with us, please."

"I *said* --"

"I am not as proficient at reading lies as Mercy," Hope says, and then turns to him.

Clark nods and then tries to smile apologetically at Jessica --

She raises an eyebrow very high *indeed*, and if she were wearing a suit and tapping her foot --

No, she doesn't *truly* resemble Lois that closely -- her youth is eminently visible for one thing, and her hair is too long for another -- and he's babbling in his own mind. "Jessica... please. It means very much to all of us."

"*You* don't -- ah. Hm."

"More of the other Tims' memories are coming to the fore," Hope says, and the raise of her eyebrows makes that a question -- her tone certainly doesn't -- but there's no way to be sure --

Jessica raises her hand in acknowledgment and a plea to stop.

Hope nods once and returns what appears to be the lion's share of her attention to her knives. Clark knows that she'll be cleaning and sharpening them when she gets a chance --

"Clark, you..." Jessica's *laugh* is rueful. "It's been a very... exciting day for me. You can imagine that, perhaps?"

"The day I met Lex and Bruce was very... well. The day after was even more so... for reasons I know you can sympathize with," Clark says, as gently as he can --

And Jessica smiles at him even as she strokes her own hip. Clark lets himself glance -- she is bruised there from Bruce's touch.

Clark doesn't reach out to press his own fingertips there, but -- he wants to. And -- "I -- you're very strong --"

The wryness of her expression could stop a bull in its tracks -- or just a Kryptonian. "I'm running away from my problems."

"You're running to a solution. You..." Clark shakes his head. "There is much you'll be able to do here that will *help*, Jessica."

Another bite to her lip. "He -- they'll really let me -- I mean. After I'm trained --"

"I cannot stress enough how much Bruce has longed for a partner, Jessica."

Jessica strokes her hip again, the hem of her t-shirt --

She reaches to push her hair behind her ears despite the fact that it's in a ponytail --

She laughs at herself and breathes out tension. "I'm -- jittery. And arguing for the sake of -- well, no, not for the sake of arguing. For the sake of the good, dutiful daughter I always thought I was."

Clark nods and -- "In truth, I can't... I can't imagine the choice you're making. My parents didn't approve of *Lex* right away, but they loved Bruce almost from the first moment they met. And, of course, I can see them almost any time I wish."

"That... that. That wasn't true even when I was in my own universe," she says, and looks down at the floor -- or at her own memories.

Clark winces. He...

Everything he's *overheard* about the Drakes --

"You'll still be able to visit, I believe?"

"I wonder... I wonder how much I'll take advantage of that," and her voice is quiet and almost certainly as low as it ever gets. She moves her head oddly -- no, she's trying to use her hair to hide her face.

"You... don't often wear your hair that way?"

Her smile for him is quick and bright for all that it's small. She's grateful to him for changing the subject --

Clark steps closer --

Jessica... studies him, looking him over in rapid glances almost as if she can see beneath *his* uniform -- or his skin. "I -- wore my hair this way for karate and judo. For the knife-fighting, my sensei mostly insisted that I wear my hair the way I normally would, because I would probably not have time to fix my hair before I was fighting for my life."

Hope turns to look at Jessica --

And Jessica can almost certainly feel it. She turns to smile ruefully at Hope once more. "I... trusted in the fact that I would have you to protect me if we were attacked, Hope."

Hope tilts her head to the side. "I believe it would be... imprudent to do that in the future."

"Yes, I believe you're right. I hadn't -- I wasn't thinking clearly enough. I understand that I'm a... soft target at the moment, and I will be working to remedy that situation."

"You will have less difficulty thinking clearly once you... set aside your more ambiguous emotions."

Jessica smiles with amusement and reaches out to Hope --

Hope looks at Jessica's hand curiously for a long moment --

Jessica stiffens --

Hope shakes her head once and twines her fingers with Jessica's own. "I was unprepared. Only Lex and Mercy reach for me in this way."

Mercy initiates physical contact with someone other than Lex?

"I only meant -- ah. I don't want to make you uncomfortable, Hope."

"I am not. I appreciate physical contact from those who please Lex."

Jessica smiles more sharply. "Even Bruce?"

"Even Bruce. He is... respectful. Always. This is not enough for Mercy, but it is enough for me."

Jessica inclines her head. "I remember the first Tim being disrespectful to you. I'm going to endeavor to avoid that."

"Thank you. What did you wish to say before."

"Just that I'm reasonably certain that I'll have more difficulty setting aside emotions than you or Mercy do."

"Yet you are capable of viewing situations and events logically."

"Very true. However, I have... ah. There are parts of me which question the utility and appropriateness of logic when it comes to *this* particular situation, and there are other parts of me which question the purity of the logic I've used."

Hope narrows her eyes and squeezes Jessica's hand. "Logic is always the better choice, and the benefits of choosing to stay here are clear and unassailable." Hope turns to *him* --

"Ah -- hem. Yes," Clark says. "While I would never advocate against wanting to spend time with one's family, I must confess that I would be troubled if anyone I or my loved ones cared about chose to give their time and affection to people who had injured them."

"Hence your objection to... Tom."

Clark smiles and takes Jessica's other hand. "I was short-sighted and jealous. I've been shown... another way. And I always want my companions' happiness. And... I've wondered... ah. I would very much like to be close to you, Jessica."

Jessica smiles at the floor before squeezing both his hand and Hope's own and letting go. "Another reason to stay. Another... hm. I feel as though I'm allowing myself to be... purchased."

Hope raises both of her eyebrows. "Is there anything more valuable than the company of the like-minded. Respect. Affection. Companionship."

"Well. It's good not to be *cheap* --"

"Is there anything more purely the definition of family, Jessica?" And -- he hadn't meant to say *that* --

It's not his *place* to denigrate Jessica's parents --

"I'm sorry --"

She holds up a hand to stop him and frowns at the floor --

Hugs herself *briefly* --

And her laugh, when it comes, is dark and derisive. It's older than her years, and it makes Hope --

Reach out. Hope cups Jessica's shoulders and squeezes firmly. "Lex taught me that laughs like that one were the only gift certain parents could give."

Jessica blinks rapidly-- "I. Yes, I imagine that he would know. That. Hope, I -- I'm not going back. I mean, I'll bring my knives when I get sent -- I." Jessica licks her lips. "It's just going to take me time to get used to it. And I'm going to... throw myself into living here. So that I don't throw myself into brooding."

Hope frowns and squeezes harder. "Mercy can teach you to control your emotions."

"I. I'll remember that oh, God. Oh. A hug. I. I think I like hugs."

Hope strokes down Jessica's ponytail and then tugs it lightly. "They are often very... nice."

"Yes. Yes, I think so," Jessica says, and rubs Hope's back. "I love your perfume, by the way. I meant to mention that --"

"It is called Blithe. Lex chose it for me despite hating the name."

Jessica laughs softly -- snorts. "Oh. I. Didn't mean to do that."

Hope hums and squeezes Jessica harder before letting go and stepping back. "I would like to laugh one day. Lex appreciates such things."

Jessica smiles sharply. "I believe Bruce and Clark do, too."

Hope narrows her eyes *very* slightly --

Clark smiles as earnestly as he can. "Oh, I really do. Very much," he says, breathy and *sweet* --

Hope hums again, and this time it's a *threat* --

"Ah -- or not? Um." Jessica eyes Hope warily --

"I see that you are willing to 'fuck with' me. I will remember this well."

"Oh... dear --"

"Here," Hope says, lowering her head in the way she has when she's crafting a specific expression for Lex.

When she looks up, she's smiling sweetly and fondly, and there's a light in her eyes which is acutely horrifying.

Clark manages not to step back --

Jessica manages the same -- "Ah... Hope?"

"This expression approximates my... impulses and... feelings about you, Jessica."

"Oh. I see. Ah. Which part?"

"My eyes are incorrect again," and Hope raises her eyebrows.

"Your eyes... ah... hm." Jessica bites her lip -- stops. "Your eyes suggest that you're thinking of tearing me to pieces and throwing me to... ah... jackals. Possibly dingoes."

"I see. I am not thinking that. I am thinking that friends 'fuck with' each other. As do family members who are... close."

Oh --

Jessica blinks again -- and smiles brightly. "Yes, I. That was -- well. That was the impression I took over the years --"

"Please hold that expression for a moment longer."

"Ah -- all right --"

Hope moves close to Jessica again, and this time she strokes the lines of her face, and gazes deeply into her eyes -- "There is... passion."

"And happiness. I. I was hoping -- well. I'd like to have as many friends as possible. I think. No one will stop me in this world, I don't think."

Hope nods slowly. "I want to understand happiness. Mercy and Lex have very different answers to the question. Will you give me yours. It doesn't have to be... now."

Jessica blinks *more* --

Clark can't *blame* her --

"I -- I will think about it, Hope. And then, hopefully, I'll be able to give you a substantive answer."

"Thank you," Hope says, and strokes the arch of Jessica's brow before stepping back. "You should now come to know Clark, and cement your relationship with him."

*Clark* blinks. "Oh -- thank you, Hope --"

"It will make Lex happier to know that your emotional needs are being met," she says, clipped and sharp --

"Ah... of course. Hem. I -- ah... all right --"

Hope smiles *again* --

"And... you are... playing with me, as well. Hm." Clark laughs and offers Hope his hand --

She squeezes it once, briefly, and then turns to leave --

Well, no. She's moving to the southeast corner of the room, and from there she'll be able to see everything that takes place while also monitoring all of the gymnasium's entrances.

Clark turns, and Jessica is very clearly coming to the same conclusion while also measuring distances. After a moment, she nods and turns to smile at him --

And, another moment after that, she rests her fingertips against the back of Clark's hand. "Is this all right?"

Clark smiles. "Yes. You may... well. I, too, enjoy being touched."

"You must -- well, no, you live in Metropolis, don't you?"

"Yes, but what were you going to ask?"

"I..." She blushes. "I was imagining you sharing a bed with Bruce and Lex. *Only* sleeping."

Clark lets his smile become more broad. "Bruce is not above the rankest sorts of manipulation to make that happen from time to time. Once, he had Alfred drug Lex. Lightly, of course, but I still... ah. Well. Bruce and I took turns carrying him to bed while he muttered *mostly* incoherently about Rob Bosse."

Jessica blinks... more. And licks her lips. "Was he... being complimentary?"

"Oh, very. I believe the reason why he nearly fell over once we set him on his feet was that he was attempting to demonstrate some of Bosse's more famous choreography."

Jessica's lips part --

Her eyes widen beautifully, *dramatically* --

And she snorts again. "I -- I don't even *know* that choreography, but --"

"Oh, you probably do. It's very *firmly* part of the culture. It shows up in commercials, cartoons... well," Clark says, and takes both of her hands in his own. "Come sit with me?"

"Oh -- ah. Yes, all right. Though I should go back to the lab --"

"We will. At the moment, however, Bruce and Lex are rather deeply embroiled in a conversation with the Bruce from Tim's universe. You may wind up with a brother rather closer to your own age."

Jessica winces. "He... is at least as needy as I am. And more obsessive about things. And -- somewhat frightening. Or... possibly I mean 'sobering.'"

"You've felt similar drives," and Clark lets go of one of her hands and leads her to the benches.

"I -- not to go *universe*-hopping, per se, but definitely to do... something. When I had friends, I was always... catching myself trying to fix things for them. Matchmaking, writing speeches for them to give their parents or teachers, manipulating them into conversations with enemies.. that sort of thing. At first I laughed it off, and then I realized that I couldn't actually *stop*."

Clark squeezes her hand and sits down. "What did you do then?"

Jessica smiles sharply, *anciently* --

"You kept doing it."

"Until the end, when I wasn't allowed my friends anymore."

"Because you're a young woman?"

Jessica nods and sits beside Clark, close enough that she can comfortably rest a hand on his thigh.

Clark covers it --

"I was supposed to -- my friends were all from the wrong social class, you see. My mother... she laughed. She told me she'd noticed my 'little crush' on one of the boys..." Jessica shakes her head. "I just. It wasn't that I wasn't allowed to have male friends at all, but... they had to be 'marriage material,' and so I had to wear makeup around them, and never quite let them *in*... and that wasn't a problem, because I hated all of them. And the girls in that class -- *my* class -- were..." She shakes her head again.

Clark squeezes her hand. "There were not pressures like that in Smallville, but there was still... well. I became very used to being very unpopular. By the time I met Bruce and Lex, I had begun trying to get myself accustomed to living and dying alone save for whatever companion animals I could convince to tolerate my scent."

Jessica laughs. "I... well. I think I would quite like a cat. Something... independent, yet not averse to spending time in my company. My mother believes that people with pets are terribly weak."

Increasingly, Clark wants to introduce the Drakes to *his* parents. Assuming his mother didn't accidentally run them over with the tractor several times, they could possibly learn something --

"You know, when you're thinking something uncharitable, you look just as pained as Bruce," she says, and the amusement is back in her voice and her scent.

Clark smiles ruefully. "Both his mother and my own instilled an us a strong sense of it being... ah... unseemly to think badly of parents, since neither of us knew anything about it."

Jessica nods thoughtfully. "Whereas Lex's father taught him to take parents with a grain of salt."

"Perhaps a shaker."

"Hmm. Or a mine?"

"Oh -- will you tell me about something which makes you happy?"

"I suppose I have been being depressing --"

"No, no, it's not that," Clark says, and brings Jessica's hand to his mouth for a kiss --

"*Oh* -- ah. Clark --"

"Oh, I'm sorry. I... hm. I'm afraid I feel that I know you rather better than I do. It's only... you're very beautiful all the time, but there's a certain... extra when you're making a joke."

"I..." Jessica laughs and stokes the palm of Clark's hand, back and forth and back again -- "Would you believe I'd *forgotten* about sexuality?"

The scent of her sweat, the bruises on her hips, the lingering hints of Lex *and* Bruce -- but she was a virgin only several hours ago, and that must be *remembered*. "Forgive me, please. I am not used to speaking so freely with people with *less* experience than I do."

Jessica hums and looks at Clark from under her lashes. "I imagine there's nothing which can shock Lex and Bruce at this point."

"Not that *I've* found. Though... I did surprise Bruce *once*, when I asked him to expose me to kryptonite."

"To -- but -- *oh*."

*Clark* hums.

"I... imagine... um." Jessica blinks at him beautifully --

<<Fine one, in all guises.>>

"I -- what does that mean? And... do you use kryptonite every time?"

"Ah... it means that I am fond of you in every aspect I have been shown, and that I wish to grow closer to you, and to, perhaps, come to be companions with you."

"And that word -- companions -- means something quite deep in Kryptonian?"

Clark nods once and squeezes her hand again. "It is... well. A companion is an ally in every way, a lover in *several* ways, a support, a... hm. Firm right hand? Other things, as well, but those things were difficult to explain even among Kryptonians."

"I... see," Jessica says, and licks her lips. "And this... it crosses gender lines?"

"Yes, though most companions were found within a given Kryptonian's chosen gender. As to your other question... you know that I don't."

Jessica blushes. "That encounter... it was rather *spontaneous*, Clark."

"I suppose it must have seemed so -- no, I was about to be disingenuous," Clark says, and he's aware that he's pulling on something of Bruce's... Bruceness, but... "I was living within every moment of that lovemaking, but there were very *few* moments when I couldn't have left to retrieve kryptonite -- if I needed it."

A frown. "That doesn't sound --"

"As if I was enjoying myself?" Clark smiles. "I assure you, I was quite lost to every sensation. I was drowning in *pleasure*, Jessica... but I must always hold myself somewhat apart for the sake of safety, and, at the other end of my personal sexuality spectrum... there are few things I wouldn't do in order to *enhance* my sexual experiences. With the kryptonite, I can make love -- and be made love *to* -- almost as a human. There are times when I appreciate that very much, but there are also times when it's better for me to be... inhuman."

Her eyes are wide again, her expression a blend of shock and thoughtfulness --

And her arousal is rising for the first time in *Clark's* presence. It's a curiously light scent at the moment, but Clark knows that that has more to do with how much she's sweated than with anything else. She's curling the fingers of her other hand under the bench and stroking Clark's palm again --

Yes.

"Jessica... I am neither wealthy nor in love with you -- though I suspect the latter will change in time --"

"Oh -- *Clark* --"

"Shh. Just for a moment," Clark says, and lets his hand swallow her own, lets himself speed and *heat* --

She gasps quietly --

Clark smiles. "As I've said, I can neither buy you everything you desire nor promise myself to you forever... but you may have what you want of me at nearly any time, and I would be honored to help you discover what those things might be... should you ever have questions."

Jessica's blush is deep and dark, and a part of Clark only wants to give her terribly *nerdy* glasses, a hairstyle which is dull and unfashionable and utterly *comfortable* --

Though, given the straight, un-teased style she seems to prefer, that wouldn't be *difficult*. But. He wants to give her a chance to *be* a nerd, and to associate with... the like-minded.

It's just that he'd also like, very much, to *taste* her. Before and *after* she makes love to Bruce or Lex. Harder *and* more gentle --

And she's staring at him now, curious and apprehensive -- Clark smiles ruefully. "Please. Give me your happiness."

A *flare* of arousal --

Clark gives himself permission to lean in enough to make *sure* she knows that he's inhaling her --

"Oh -- God. I hope you enjoy that scent?" Her giggle is soft and *troubled* --

"I do. Very much. Were you thinking of me?"

"Who *else* --"

Clark raises an eyebrow.

Jessica coughs -- and breathes out tension. "Ah -- true. But yes, I was. Specifically, I was thinking about all the happiness of mine I gave Lex and Bruce, and how I might direct that sort of happiness in the future. The near future, even," she says, and her smile is wry again.

Clark smiles just as broadly as he wants to --

And Jessica touches his cheek. "I think. I think all of you need more confidants, Clark. You all decided right off the bat to trust me -- and my... fellows, I suppose -- and so you're drunk on *honesty* --"

"And your company."

"And my company, yes, but I've spent... a lot of time lying to people about various things, and it's *always* intoxicating to be honest after that. No matter who you're being honest *with* --"

"I have my doubts about that --"

"*Clark*. I've enjoyed myself with my *mother* -- oh, dear. That was out loud."

"Ah... yes. But I'm more than willing to pretend it wasn't," Clark says, and strokes her hand, her forearm ---

"I like... storms. Really intense storms with the sort of thunder that sets off car alarms and lightning that blinds you and makes your hair stand on end. *Sheets* of rain, charcoal-colored clouds... like that," and she smiles wryly. "And I have an *extremely* stupid reason for that."

"I'd very much like to hear it."

She tilts her head to the side, raises an eyebrow. "And you absolutely mean that."

"Well. We could always play Elfquest together."

"You -- that game doesn't even -- or. It just came *out* here!"

Clark smiles and rubs her palm with his thumb. "I wrote about it for the Planet's Lifestyles section. It was an *excellent* excuse to drink large amounts of Mountain Mist and make my apartment into a place where one could find *large* numbers of hopeless geeks."

Jessica bites her lip. "I -- you have your own character, don't you."

"Oh, yes. I'm working on another, too... perhaps you could help?"

Jessica blushes *again* -- "Ah... I like storms like that because I can imagine them heralding the end of the world. The *Apocalypse*. And I'll join a ragged band of survivors who will work against the odds to rebuild society. Ah... the right way."

Clark -- beams. "I believe I would like to watch *many* objectively terrible movies with you."

Jessica looks at him from under her lashes. "We can...stick to the ones with *benevolent* aliens."

"And drink unconscionable amounts of Mountain Mist?"

She *giggles* -- "Ah. I like root beer floats."

"Oh. My mother makes her own vanilla ice cream."

Jessica rocks back and forth - stops. "You don't you think she'd be somewhat... nonplussed by the fact that I'm fifteen?"

"Ah... well." Clark rubs his upper lip with his finger. "I no longer tell my parents absolutely *everything* about my life, Jessica. I was actually thinking that I could fly some ice cream *here*."

"Oh -- I. Oh. Yes. That makes more sense," she says, blushing and looking down --

Oh... "But... perhaps you can be... I mean, it's almost time for the bimonthly barbecues at my parents' house. Lex and Bruce can't always make it, but it's wonderful when they do. We do the chores my parents can't do anymore, play with the barn cats, and play board games. My mother always wins at Monopoly. Bruce is wonderful at Pictionary... ah. Other things?"

"And... Hope and Mercy come, too?"

"Oh, yes. None of us would have it any other way."

Jessica bites her lip again -- and twines her fingers with Clark's own. "I. I really want to learn how to play Pictionary. And Monopoly. And I want to learn how to barbecue... um... hot dogs?"

"Oh, yes. My father *insists* on having them. I'm a vegetarian, though --"

"Then -- I can learn how to barbecue corn. And... potatoes? And I'd like to meet the barn cats. Are they very friendly?"

Clark kisses the back of her hand three times, and listens to her heart speed -- "Some of them are *very* friendly. Some even go in the house sometimes. The friendliest is Harriet. She's not *terribly* bright, but she has a wonderful purr. Her littermate Henry has been known to terrorize the cows if left to his own devices, and her other littermate Hatshepsut --"

"Hatshepsut?"

"Well. We thought she was a girl, and I'd been studying ancient Egypt, and -- ah?"

She giggles again --

Clark leans in and kisses her temple. "We're still not sure *what* its gender is, but it *is* very regal."

"Hmm. You're not tempted to use your X-ray vision?"

"That would be *cheating*," Clark says, and smiles as earnestly as he can.

Another giggle -- "I -- how are the others?"

"Well, the other Bruce was convincing enough about his desire to turn over a new leaf with regards to intimacy with his Tim that Tim decided to go back with him --"

Jessica exhales -- and winces.

That -- "Were you jealous?"

"Ah -- some? He *was* rather more like the Tom they both miss like -- like *oxygen*."

"Jessica, you *saw* how Lex responded to you -- and felt that, as well. As for Bruce --"

"Bruce will always be going against *inclination* with me --"

"You *are* his inclination. He will always love Tom -- and will possibly always *look* for Tom -- but he will not take you for granted. Especially if you always let him *know* he's needed."

"That's against*my* inclination -- but I do see what you're saying. Ah... intellectually. I have a lot to measure up to --"

"The other Tims taught them both to look at them -- at *you* -- as individuals, Jessica."

"True, but -- oh, God, don't mind me. I think I'm ready to curl up in a little Jessball, put music on loudly, and pretend I'm stalking my way through the dangerous and deserted city hunting canned goods and ready to spread the message of peace and equality."

Clark bites his own lip. "Do you think I could curl *around* you sometime?"

She looks at him from under her lashes. "I think it could be arranged."

Clark smiles brightly. "Then that's all right. Well, it would've been all right *before*... but not for me."

"Hmm. You're a lot less stressful than Bruce and Lex are."

"Well..." Clark sets her hand down and cups her shoulder, instead --

"Oh -- I can feel your warmth --ah. Even more?" Jessica laughs. "*Really* don't mind me --"

"Do you like it?"

"I -- yes. Though -- I think it helps that this gym is air-conditioned."

"I -- ah. I *can* be less warm --"

"You're heating yourself up for me?"

Clark smiles again. "I rather enjoy the scent of humans when they're a little too warm."

Jessica raises an eyebrow. "And uncomfortable in other ways?"

"Would you speak of arousal as discomfort?"

"I -- *yes* --"

"Then yes," Clark says, and squeezes her shoulder. "Though I do miss your scent from earlier."

"Ah. When I still smelled like Bruce and Lex?"

"And yourself, of course. Forgive me, but it seemed... fitting."

Jessica snorts lightly. "Yes, I imagine so. Ah... I would think you'd resent me more. And all the other Tims, of course," and the expression in her eyes --

With lavender undertones rather than pale grey ones --

*Lois* -- not Lois.

"I must admit that there was rather a bit of that -- you surely remember my *first* reaction to you?"

Jessica nods slowly and never takes her eyes away from Clark's own.

Clark strokes her sharp cheekbone and searches her, *studies* her at something like human speed -- "You're very beautiful -- and Bruce and Lex have been *very* helpful at making me realize that there will always be a place for *me* in their lives. I'm afraid I'd come to the conclusion that a return of Tom -- or someone like him -- would make them need me less."

"That's -- I'm nothing *like* you --"

"No, you aren't -- but I'm afraid that I *was* afraid that that meant you were *better* than me."

"Oh -- that's -- " Jessica laughs. "All right, that's exactly what I was doing."

"It's... human. And other than human, as well."

"You were *raised* human --"

"I was raised *by* humans, fine one -- raised to hide the truths of myself from both casual and serious observers. There is a difference."

Jessica raises an eyebrow again -- "And sometimes you need to be inhuman?"

<<I have begun to wonder what you would have of me.>> Clark squeezes her shoulder again against the confusion in her eyes, the search -- "To translate... I am curious to know whether you would have me be inhuman or not."

"Well -- which would you *prefer*?"

Clark smiles and raises his own eyebrow --

And Jessica blushes. "I see. I... um. I'll think about it."

"Oh... please do. Shall we go to the lab? I'm afraid I'll have to speed past you to keep from being seen, but I'll happily meet you there."

"I -  wow. That's something like *whiplash*," she says, and laughs breathlessly.

"Tell me?"

"I just -- I just thought that I should be taking clear and copious mental notes about what I see in order to bring them to my *mother*."

That... "I... am honestly not sure what to say," Clark says, and strokes her shoulder, the back of her neck --

She laughs softly -- it isn't quite another giggle -- and gives him another under-lashes look. "The petting works as alternative speech."

"Oh, does it? Because I'd very much like to do it thoroughly --"

"With your very hot hands?"

Clark leans in and kisses her cheek before nuzzling to her ear. "Every part of me will always be warm, at the very least..."

Jessica exhales shakily --

Clark *hears* her clench --

And that was a quiet... squeak.

"There is... discomfort?"

"*Wonderful* discomfort -- um --" Jessica shifts to the side and smiles at him ruefully. "The lab?"

"Yes," Clark says, and stands before offering her his hand. "But please, always remember that you have options."

Jessica closes her eyes for a moment and breathes deep -- "Yes, I believe I will."

Clark looks to Hope --

She nods at him and comes to join them. Clark waits until she's within range of any number of protective motions, and then he squeezes Jessica's hand --

And runs.

*

He's just about finished with his list of everything he wants Jess to bring with her once she comes back to them when Jess herself walks into the lab --

And Clark resolves himself out of his vibration in *that* corner --

And, onscreen, Bruce is sniffing Jess' makeup with a bemused expression on his face.

Jess blinks at the screen -- and then shakes her head with a rueful smile on her face. "For a moment I thought... well, you can guess."

"Indeed," Lex says, and strokes her cheek. "Darling, why is Bruce sniffing your makeup?"

"I assumed you'd know and understand all of his kinks by now."

That -- Lex snorts and tugs her ponytail lightly. "Very good, but?"

"Hmm. It's cruelty-free... and you have no idea what that means, do you?"

Lex considers it, and tries to call up some factoid or another about how makeup is produced --

Loses himself briefly to the image of painting Hope, Mercy, *and* Jess with kohl --

"All right, I have no idea."

She hums again and steps *slightly* closer --

"Wonderful. Do that often."

She gives him a *sparkling* look from under her -- currently un-enhanced -- lashes -- and then nods at the screen. "None of that makeup was tested on animals, and so it's made from materials already known not to irritate most humans' eyes and skin. When I switched from the 'normal' stuff, I found the scents quite distracting for a while."

Lex nods and considers more -- "Is that why you wouldn't wear what Mercy purchased for you?"

"That's one of the reasons. You know the others."

Lex inclines his head and watches Bruce close the makeup case and glare at it for another long moment as if it's a recalcitrant informant --

Bruce moves to Jess' closet --

"Ah... why?"

"We're testing to make sure that we'll be able to yank you back once you ruin your chances to be born in *this* universe."

"But... what if *Bruce* gets stuck?"

Lex smiles and points at Bruce's belt. "The pocket which usually holds explosives has a small supply of nth metal. The pocket which is usually empty has the plans to build another one of these, and bearer bonds to make sure he has the money to do it."

Jess blinks. "You just keep bearer bonds around?"

"You never really know what will come in handy when... and cash is, in many ways, the ultimate lubricant. Hmm. That burgundy dress. Do you like it?"

"It makes me look like a younger, smaller version of my mother. Everything burgundy does."

Damn. "We'll find you other colors."

A wry look -- "You'd planned on stuffing me in that color universally, hadn't you?"

"Not --" Well... "Yes."

Another hum. "Be my mirror on those days and you have a deal," Jess says, and crosses her arms beneath her breasts --

"You're stunning."

"I picked that up," and she smiles at him again. "When are... we bringing Bruce back?"

Oh... darling. "In five minutes, he'll stop poking around. If he truly loves me, he'll steal your CPU when we yank him back through."

She laughs. "It's precisely as wonderful as it looks. There are times when I catch myself stroking it."

Lex leans in and kisses her temple. "All the more reason to make sure you don't spend too much time without it -- Clark. Are you managing to hover in *both* of our blind spots?"

"Ah..."

Jess laughs. "I can see the toe of his boots. Well, the toe of *one* boot."

"Oh, you have excellent peripheral vision, Jessica," Clark says, and sounds like he's complimenting her for existing.

Which... he understands.

"*Thank* you, Clark. *Why* are you hovering?"

"Oh, force of habit," Clark says, and moves to stand at Jessica's other side. "It's always a wonderful game to see how *long* it will take Lex to notice that I'm doing it," and that -- is a terribly obnoxious smile.

Lex scowls at him as blackly as he can.

Clark twiddles his fingers at him, and then turns back to Jess. "It's just that he's always so *focused* in a laboratory setting."

"There's nothing wrong with being interested in the sciences," she says, *defending* him --

Lex decides on an obnoxious expression of his own --

"Oh, of course not," and Clark pats her shoulder. "It's only that Lex is convinced that he's capable of providing *everyone* in his life with adequate attention at all times --"

"I'm *good* at it, you ass --"

And *Clark* hums.

"You -- you're just too needy."

"I'm sure you're right," Clark says, and now he's being *earnest* --

Earnestly *hangdog* --

"Oh -- not you, *too*!"

Jess looks back and forth between them with a confused expression --

Clark pats her shoulder again. "Lex has a terrible weakness for the sadness of others."

"It's not *terrible*, damn you!"

Clark -- *emotes* at him. He --

He *swallows* --

He blinks too *rapidly* --

"*Augh*! Stop that!"

"It's... I know you don't love me anymore, Lex. It's all right --"

"I will beat you with a *tire* iron --"

Jess giggles breathlessly. Oh, yes --

But, by the time he looks at her, her expression is solemn and *sad* --

Lex doesn't scrub a hand back over his scalp. That would be weak. The fact that he's biting his lip --

Jess' eyes are shining. *Twinkling*.

"You're picking up -- terrible habits."

She manages to *nod* solemnly --

"I hate you both," Lex says, and turns back to the screen. Bruce is stroking a dress in a green which is nearly *jeweled* -- "We're keeping that one."

Jess hums. "Our live-in -- Mrs. Mac -- picked it out for me. I always feel... very pretty in it. Despite the fact that it makes my eyes incredibly dull."

"Darling, *nothing* could do that --"

"You haven't *seen* me in the dress, Lex --"

"I will grant that the shape of it almost certainly *demands* attention be paid more to your tits and hips than anything else, but --" Lex spins her into a hard kiss --

Jess hums indignantly --

Lex makes the kiss deep and perhaps a bit colonizing -- not punishing --

And *this* hum is rather more -- hm. Lex pulls back. "Clark, were you seducing her?"

"Oh... perhaps a little."

Lex turns back to Jess. "How do you feel about that sort of thing?"

"Generally positive. Um. I think Bruce is trying to catch your attention."

Lex turns to the screen -- and Bruce is holding the dress, the CPU, and the makeup case. "You *do* have excellent peripheral vision."

"I've trained it."

"Obsessive little --" Lex kisses her three times. "You belong with us, and the fact that you've decided to stay with us does *not* make that less true." He allows her to stand and toggles the switch that will pull Bruce back --

And Bruce is right on the platform where he belongs.

"Oh --" Jess claps her hand to her thigh --

"Yes, darling?"

"You're going to want the monitor, too. I mean, you have EGA now, and that's really impressive for this time period, but -- ah. Yes."

Better *monitors* -- Lex focuses. "Bruce, set that stuff down for now and then get ready to go back."

Bruce nods and does it -- and strokes the makeup case pointedly. You can't *see* him raising his eyebrow behind the cowl, but --

Jess can obviously feel it, going by her blush. "The makeup wasn't tested on any animals -- it's made from materials already known to be hypoallergenic to most humans."

"That's wonderful," Bruce says. "Lex --"

"We will *absolutely* make some. And, hopefully, it won't smell too strange."

"It's not an unpleasant scent. It's just that it's completely unlike what I allowed myself to become accustomed to with my mother. And, of course, with you and Clark."

Jess blinks -- and then very clearly spends time considering what that statement could mean. Her blush is just as intriguing as it should be. Perhaps more so, given that Clark is doing that thing where he rubs his fingers together instead of feeling up an object of affection at speed.

"I... can definitely see why you'd be so interested in the makeup."

Bruce's smiles are always obscene -- if not always terrifying -- when he's wearing the cowl, but Jess responds with a smile of her own and a certain lean --

And Bruce is very clearly moments away from moving closer and precipitating an encounter which won't allow them to get *anything* done.

Lex points to the platform. "Remember, she'll be joining you not very long from now."

"As you say," Bruce says, and steps up again. "I'm ready."

Lex turns to Jess. "Why *are* you the embodiment of several of my most ludicrous fantasies?"

Jess laughs. "Because all the work you put in studying Clark's DNA in order to better understand his strengths and weaknesses -- that *does* make it into the news, by the way, mainly because the security you take out on the labs in question *is* so newsworthily extreme -- led you to discovering certain things which *could* be used to craft 'designer' babies --"

"Are you saying I let *that* slip out? There are people out there who still believe in *eugenics*!"

"You didn't do it on purpose. One of your geneticists - Richelieu Westlake -- allowed himself to be bought. He called it a matter of doing it for humanity, but everyone knew --"

"That *weasel*!"

"I never did care for him very much," Bruce says, and, yes, he's definitely raising an eyebrow behind the cowl. It's as good as an 'I told you so.'

Lex sighs and turns back to Jess --

Who is gone.

Who is, in fact, standing in her bedroom and pulling plugs from out of that odd little power strip under her desk. It *is* just like her to remain on point.

"Still ready, Bruce?"

"Yes."

Lex nods and toggles the switch --

And Bruce moves to lift the monitor --

Jess rests a hand on his arm and smiles *shyly* --

Clark hums.

"Do you know something I don't?"

"Ah... perhaps? It occurred to me, a moment ago, that Jessica may have certain ludicrous fantasies of her own."

Lex turns to blink at Clark.

Clark reaches to turn up the volume --

" -- only. Ah. You're in my *bedroom*, Bruce."

"Is that... it's transgressive."

Jess' blush is dark, *notable*. "I never could decide if it was more so with you in the uniform... or out of it. Ah. Maybe if you... well --"

"If you... if you would remove your hair-tie..."

"Oh. Oh -- Bruce. Yes," she says, and does just that --

"The gauntlets are... textured. Clark has told me more than once that..." Bruce sighs and slips his hand into her hair *carefully* --

"Oh -- that *pull* --"

"Yes. May I --"

"Don't. Don't *ask*. For anything."

Once upon a time, Bruce would *have* to question a request like that -- would need to in much the same way he needed to never *hurt* --

But.

He'd hurt Tom more than once, had learned to love that even as he became that much more careful with everyone else. Lex is reasonably sure he'd kept the pain for Harvey to a minimum -- and Lex had had to have him call on his memories of Tom again and again to get him to *work* him a little --

But then there's Clark, who had demanded Bruce bring out his inner *brutal* top more than once --

Who had been kissed by Bruce the same way Bruce is kissing Jess now countless *times* --

And there are the lessons Jess herself had taught.

Clark exhales shakily. "There's always something... extra when Bruce is in the Batsuit."

The indigo and grey color scheme, the sleekness of the gauntlets and boots -- all the better to hide precisely how well-armored they are -- the way the cowl frames those ever-so-*manly* features -- yes, he can see why so many people fetishize the thing.

It was only his intent a *little* bit -- just enough to pay homage to the fact that someone with a fetish was someone with a *weakness*. The Batman *feeds* on the weaknesses of others --

Though right now...

It looks like the Batman feeds on beautiful young girls.

*Shaking* young girls.

*Moaning* young girls --

"What... ah." Clark licks his lips. "What do you think he'll do?"

Knowing Bruce...

Knowing how Bruce responds to Tom-like individuals --

Lex shakes his head. "He'll do things which will allow him to learn her body, and he'll do those things systematically."

"He can be... thorough."

Lex looks *pointedly* at Clark's crotch -- "How often *do* you wind up fucking the ever-loving *hell* out of the people you save?"

"Rarely more than a third of the time -- ah. Lex?"

Why, yes, he *does* have a handful of the Supercock. "Just checking."

Clark licks his lips. "You -- you're always welcome, of course, but --"

"You're not used to me."

"This -- this is how you are with *Bruce* --"

"This," Lex says, and strokes Clark once, twice -- "*This* is how I am with my lovers."

"Peremptory."

"Rude."

"Possessive --"

"Realistic," and Lex shows his teeth --

Clark moans and leans in what seems like *helplessly* --

"Yes," Lex says, and allows himself to be kissed --

He can't *count* the number of kisses --

"Clark."

"'m sorry," Clark slurs, and kisses him *slowly* -- and just gently enough that Lex's lips won't *bruise*.

That's more like it. And *he* doesn't have a gauntlet -- he never will -- but Clark still moans beautifully when Lex shoves a hand into his hair, when he pulls, when he *yanks* --

Clark's knees bump Lex's own --

Clark gasps and wraps an arm around Lex's waist --

Clark flies them up several feet --

And Lex decides to remain calm about that despite the fact that he *hates* being flown around indoors -- a part of him is absolutely sure that *that* will make it obvious just which heavily muscled six-foot-four men he spends all his time around --

He decides, and cups Clark's warm cheek with his other hand --

He bites Clark's *tongue* --

"Sorry -- oh, Lex --"

"Shh," Lex says, tightening his grip with both hands and giving Clark something of a teaching kiss. This is what he wants; this is what he wants from Clark.

This is what he'll *take* --

And this is what he'll make Clark *give* --

It's not a surprise to feel Clark's ridiculously hard cock pressed against his abdomen through their clothes, but it *is* a surprise to discover just how annoyed he can get by the fact that it's impossible to tell how *erect* Clark is from how hard he is. Lex pushes a hand between them and cups Clark's cock -- no.

He shoves his hand under those tights and shorts and gets a *good* grip, a *friendly* grip -- no, a threatening grip --

Clark groans into his mouth and -- vibrates. "Lex. Lex. Your *hand* --"

"Mine, yes. Fewer calluses than Bruce..."

"You -- I can always feel how much work you --" Clark shakes his head, closes his eyes -- "Please. Please stroke me --"

Lex *squeezes* --

"Ohn -- or that --"

Lex smiles and lets go --

"Oh -- *please*, Lex --"

"I'd like," Lex says, and leans into bite Clark's lip as hard as Bruce does --

Clark groans for him -- or for the memories --

"I'd like to have *both* of my feet on the floor, Clark."

Clark stares at him blankly for a moment -- no, it's not a blank look. It's needy and *hot*, *confused* --

Lex clenches the hand in Clark's hair into a fist, claws at Clark's face with the other -- "Darling. You *will* come for me. I just haven't decided how, yet."

"Lex -- so *long* --"

"And I will never stop apologizing for that -- if only silently most of the time. Set us down."

"You -- you don't have to --"

"*Down*, Clark."

Clark grunts and takes them down at speed --

Lex glances over -- and the lack of sound from the other universe is explained by the fact that Bruce's right gauntlet is in Jess' *mouth*. Jess is naked from the waist down and is lying on her back on her bed --

And Bruce appears to be examining her between moments of contact. They're fine. Lex drops to his knees in front of Clark --

Clark groans *loudly* --

"Oh, really...?"

"I -- *Lex* --"

"Critical thought is a little too much for you at the moment...?"

"Yes. Yes, please --"

"Were you aware of the fact that there are two long, black hairs caught in the leg of your shorts? Not as long as *Jess'*, but...?"

"Lois. It -- she -- she was drugged --"

"And so you had sex with her?"

"She was -- ah. Very *insistent*, Lex --"

Lex bites his lip -- and bites back a snort. Clark's feelings for Lois were never mere attraction. "Noted. How *was* it," and Lex yanks down Clark's tights and shorts, leans in to *bite* the underside of Clark's cock at the base --"

"*Lex* --"

"Beautiful, but...?"

Clark pants and stares down into Lex's eyes, reaches for Lex and *shakes* --

Lex bites Clark's fingertips and growls --

Clark groans again. "She -- she figured out my *secret* --"

*Hell* -- but. Lex pulls back. "I take it you calmed her down about the deception at least to a certain extent?"

"Ah... yes. I believe it helped that she figured out *Bruce's* secret, too --"

"*How*?"

"She *first* realized that Batman was my lover --"

"Stop -- fucking intelligent people. No, not that," Lex says, and wraps his fist around the base of Clark's cock. "You know we have to bring her in. To *co-opt* her as much as possible?"

"I've... begun preparing her for that."

Lex nods and makes a command decision to let the thought... well, he's not letting it go so much as letting it hover around the back of his mind while picking up what it needs in order to be a *useful* thought, but he's also not *focusing* on it right now. "Next time? I don't care what I'm doing or who I'm doing it with. If our secrets are on the line, you come to me *immediately*."

Clark winces and nods -- and doesn't lose one iota of his arousal. That --

Is more than worth Lex's smile as he leans in and breathes hot -- no, Clark will feel it as cool. Had he learned to find that -- no. *When* had he learned to find that arousing?

How far does it go?

"Lex..."

"A question," Lex says, and licks the glistening head of Clark's cock. The taste --

The taste is nothing he's ever -- no. There's something almost *citrus*-like about it, something bright and sharp to go with salt that tastes decidedly odd and maleness Lex thinks he might be imagining to make himself feel better.

Lex licks again to try to come to some sort of *terms* with the taste --

"Oh -- Lex, you don't *have* to --"

"Oh, yes, I really do. A part of me has been waiting to have your cock somewhere I could bite it... well. Let's just say 'a long time' and leave it at that," and Lex takes the opportunity *to* bite the shaft --

Clark grunts and shudders --

"As I was saying -- how hard do you get for us when cold weather has chilled us to at least some extent?"

"Very -- I -- I want to *warm* you, to hold you and --" Clark grunts again and shakes his head -- "Just. To *feel* --"

"Noted," Lex says, and takes about half of Clark in one gulp --

"*Lex* --!"

Lex bites down and *scrapes* his way up the shaft --

"Please! Oh, please!"

Lex points at the screen --

"You -- you want me to --"

Lex nods and sucks --

And Clark's knees are shaking, bending and flexing up and down, down and up -- "She. Jessica is tossing her head. I -- Bruce seems to be *licking* her --"

Lex pulls off --

Clark whimpers and touches Lex's face *achingly* gently --

Good *boy* -- and Lex licks Clark's cock around and around --

Lex reaches to guide Clark's hands to his shoulders --

"Oh -- oh, Lex, I can't, I can't --"

"For now," Lex says, and sucks a kiss to the slit, "you can."

Clark gasps, squeezes Lex's shoulders --

"*More*, Clark."

"She -- she's tugging at the gauntlet but not pulling it out of her mouth -- oh. Bruce is holding her wrist against the bed --"

Lex grunts, but -- doesn't rise for it. Apparently, he needs a break. *Clark* is rising for it, getting *hotter* for it -- Lex can't *tell* if he's getting harder, too.

"I -- please, Lex. He -- I think he's. Taking her with his tongue. She's *arching* off the bed and I need -- please, Lex, I *need* -- "

Lex takes Clark in again and sucks hard, urging him in with waves --

"*Lex* --!"

No. He grabs Clark's ass and *pulls*, and, while a part of Lex only wants to pair Clark up with someone equally powerful -- or close to it -- so he can *watch*...

Feeling this is better. Straining against Clark's muscular *force* is better --

He's getting stronger every *day*, and... had Lois had this? Had she wanted it?

Would Bruce be able to *stop* tongue-fucking Jess if this was in the offing -- no, he'd want two mouths badly, and would make whoever got him *first* get off before he changed focus.

He...

Lex is only human -- unlike his companions, no matter *what* Bruce would say -- and would get *lost* in indecision until he managed to hold one of them *still*. And then he'd spend the whole time wondering if he shouldn't have picked the other *first*.

It's easier with Bruce -- he's had years to find the man's wavelength and *stay* there -- and he knows that's part of what's made things difficult for Clark, what's made Clark sure that he's not really a *part* of them -- as opposed to Bruce's lover on the side. To that end --

To that end, Lex isn't *sure* how much this helps, but he knows that it's something --

It was past time for him to admit that he was bisexual, as opposed to straight save for exceptional exceptions. Not that Clark *isn't* exceptional --

And perhaps he'll just keep these thoughts to himself until they're something other than inane and clumsy. Lex strokes his way up Clark's hips to his waist, strokes down again and *pulls* --

"*Lex*, I -- I *know* what you want --"

Lex looks up and raises an eyebrow as pointedly as he can --

Clark groans and winces, squeezes Lex's shoulders gently, restlessly -- "I -- I can't."

Lex narrows his eyes --

"*Please*. Anything else. Your mouth -- I haven't even *fantasized* --"

Lex closes his eyes and promises his dominant streak a stern talking-to --

Perhaps he should also give one to Clark's submissive side --

Lex nods and wraps a fist around Clark's cock, squeezes and works his head --

Clark gasps and squeezes Lex's shoulders again --

Lex gestures 'continue' --

"She -- Bruce has her wrists down by her left hip. He's holding them... very tightly --"

*He* wants to do that --

And he will. He *will* --

"Oh --oh, Lex, your mouth -- would you do this for all of the Tims?"

He'd only managed with one --

Well, he'd *started* with one and finished -- and it had been good enough for both of them that they'd done what they were supposed to do. And --

"Please, Lex --"

Lex pulls back --

Clark groans, knees buckling -- he hovers, pants. "I'm *sorry* --"

"I told myself I learned this for him," Lex says, and kisses his way up the underside, down the side --

The other side --

"Everyone lies to themselves, Clark. I trust you to help make sure I do so as rarely as possible."

Clark moans *high* --

Lex looks up and smiles. "Come in my mouth --"

"Your. Your throat?"

He sounds so *hopeful*, and really, he's been an *excellent* boy -- but. Lex shakes his head. "I need to taste you, darling --"

Clark grunts and his cock twitches hard enough to jerk Lex's hand --

"I see you like that idea. Continue the running commentary," and Lex takes Clark in *just* to his fist, swallowing in the tip --

"*Lex*!"

Just for a *little* while, darling -- but why not make the most of it? Lex bobs his head, fucks his own throat --

"I want -- I *want* --"

So do I... and Lex scratches down Clark's hip --

"*Yes* --! She -- her legs are locked around Bruce's *head* --"

Lex hums interrogatively --

Clark grunts again and cups the back of Lex's head --

Jerks his hands away --

*Strokes* Lex's head *stealthily* --

Lex makes his next sound somewhat ominous --

Clark cries out and *vibrates*, flexing his fists to the sides of Lex's heads --

Cracking his *knuckles* --

Yes, definitely some degree of stern-ness is in order. Quite possibly right now. To that end, Lex pushes the fingers of his free hand into Clark's cleft and *presses* on his hole --

And Clark jerks himself out of Lex's throat and starts to come, shouting and shaking enough to make Lex's jaw feel *numb* --

Lex presses *harder*, and the splashes of come are hot things, slick and *sleek* things --

("And -- sometimes -- he can be as precipitous as a boy, Lex."

"Never while I'm there.")

And Bruce had smiled, broad and fond --

Lex had raised an eyebrow --

("I believe... that he's trying to impress you.")

Clark had been barely seventeen, then.

Bruce had still had more unmarked skin than *marked* --

He hadn't even had all of his *chest* hair --

And Lex -- he can admit this now -- had used Bruce to chase away thoughts of Clark, of Clark's *eyes*. So deep, so blue, so*focused* --

So hungry for what... for what Lex had been absolutely sure he couldn't give.

Sure on the *surface* of his mind, anyway, and -- he's better than that now. Lex swallows *most* of Clark's come and rolls the rest around in his mouth. There *are* elements to the flavor that can only be described as male, but there are also all of those *other* elements, until the taste is something reminiscent --

No, the image in Lex's mind is of Clark eating foods that somehow don't exist on this planet --

No, not that either. Clark's body breaks food down into *components* that *shouldn't* exist on this planet, into nutrients and wastes that just aren't like anything else.

As such --

"Oh, *Lex*. You -- I feel --"

Lex hums and does his level best to slick Clark's cock with what's left of his own come before pulling off. "Unreal. Exceptional. Beautiful."

"Lex?"

"I have never forgotten you, Clark," Lex says, and begins licking Clark clean with *small* laps of his tongue --

"*Unh* -- Lex, I--"

"Shh. I've never forgotten you... but there have been *many* times when I haven't remembered you," and Lex looks up to meet Clark's hazed eyes, Clark's *deep* eyes -- "That's over."

"Lex. Lex, may I --"

"Yes," Lex says, and means it with all of himself.

*

Bruce isn't sure Jessica is having an orgasm until she locks her legs around his head and begins to pump with a *vicious* randomness, and that's the sort of thing --

No, the thought dies. For all that Bruce would enjoy the feel of having the back of his throat spattered with warm, slick semen --

For all that mentally and emotionally it would be *reassuring* --

She's gripping him with her *thighs*.

She's biting down on his *gauntlet* --

And her scent is heady, richer and thicker than even her *taste*. And she vastly enjoys having her clitoris suckled while *one* finger penetrates her vagina. Perhaps she would enjoy more than that were she not so raw.

After another moment, her legs fall away from his face and Bruce slows his attentions before stopping them.

Jessica moans -- high and muffled -- into the gauntlet ---

It's not enough. Bruce brings her wrists over her head and tugs the gauntlet out of her mouth. "Jessica."

She whimpers in answer, and the edges of her mouth are reddened from the gauntlet's texturing. He strokes her there with his free hand -- and she kisses his fingers repeatedly.

He wants to smile for that, but he isn't sure the game is *complete*. He wouldn't want to jerk her out of her fantasy precipitously. How to tell? "Jessica..."

"Yes. Yes -- Batman. I mean. Bruce?"

Oh...  but perhaps she isn't sure? He pulls on his darkest voice -- "Which would you prefer."

She moans, struggles against his grip --

He squeezes her wrists harder *reflexively* --

"Oh -- fuck. Bruce. Bruce, *wait*."

"I'm here, Jessica," and he loosens his grip, strokes the insides of her wrists with his thumb --

"Ooh -- oh. That feels --" Jessica licks her lips and shakes her head -

"You enjoy it?"

She laughs softly, gaze *distant* for a moment --

"Jessica..."

She moans and squeezes her eyes shut -- "I'm. I'm trying to. I want you inside me again," she says, and when she opens her eyes they're full of pleading, *open* desire as if she hadn't just had an orgasm.

"You. Your vagina is quite --"

"You. Um. You could... flip me over."

He isn't sure how he feels about the fact that she can't see his eyes widen, that she can't see him *swallow* --

"I mean. If you -- "

"Shh," Bruce says, and wonders if the Batman ever would, if he could have that --

Something.

More than *one* thing when he shifts enough to press down on her wrists rather than simply squeeze them --

Another moan. "Oh -- Batman --"

"Have you... prepared yourself."

*Her* eyes are wide. She --

He's *making* himself her fantasy, and it's so *much* of what he wanted with Tom. It *is* what he wanted, with the added benefit that Jessica's never been *close* enough to the Bruce from this world for *his* performance to be found wanting.

"Tell me. *Now*."

She jerks, making a soft sound that's somewhere between a whimper and a squeak --

"Jessica. Don't make me *wait*."

She relaxes... all over. There's a light of *gratitude* in her eyes, a deeper *cut* of thrill -- "I... I've... taken myself. Several times --"

"Using *what*."

"Um. Um. I have... toys."

Bruce blinks, forcing himself to hold onto a neutrally forbidding expression. He'd only *barely* come to terms with the idea that *pornography* could be so widely available to young people. Sex toys? *Truly*?

He knows he *should* wait to ask --

"Tell me about them."

"Ah. Ah. There's... a seven inch... um. Phallus. I've mostly used it in my vagina -"

"Where. Did you acquire it."

"My. My mother... dropped me off at the store. For two hours. I also. Um. I also bought an anal plug, but it's... less satisfying."

When he was her age --

He'd *known* such things existed, but only in the way that he'd known men sometimes had sex with other men. There was no *deep* knowledge to that, and it had certainly never occurred to him that men could make *love* --

That such toys could be used to --

"Jessica," Bruce says, and presses down harder on her wrists.

"Yes. Yes, Batman --"

"Do the toys... ease you."

She pants for the question --

Her nipples grow hard enough once more that they show through her shirt and brassiere --

He cups her right breast with his free hand and squeezes *firmly* --

"Batman!"

"Shh. Tell me."

"They. They. They only really... ah. I imagine being... fucked. Not. Made love to."

Another fantasy? The same one?

How much autonomy is he allowed -- no. He has the power in this scenario. It's his decision.

"Even if I take you with the toys... I will be making love to you."

Jessica moans and squeezes her eyes shut --

"It's my -- you're mine tonight, Jessica."

"Oh -- *yes* --"

He lets go and kneels up --

"*Please* --"

"Naked. *Now*."

She blinks at him for a long moment, lips parted and eyes wide. She glances at the closed door --

"Do you wish to anger me...?"

Her eyes are even *wider* for a moment -- "No. No, Batman," she says, and begins stripping herself at speed. She shivers *hard* when she accidentally brushes his chest armor --

And harder than that when he catches her hand and bites three of her fingers hard before allowing her to finish stripping.

When she's naked, he pushes her back down to the bed --

"*Oh* --"

"Shh," he says, and strokes her with his bare hands. The gauntlets would, perhaps, be better for this --

He needs to know the feel of her body with his hands. He needs to know that she'll shake for the feel of a staff callus on her nipple, that she'll arch for the feel of the problematically large scar on his left palm as he drags it over her long, curving throat --

She's flexible enough that he can bend her legs back to her chest --

"I'll make you more flexible still --"

She bucks --

"Be *still*."

"*Ohn* -- yes, Batman, I'm sorry, Batman --"

"I did not tell you to speak," he says, flipping her over his lap and promising himself more time with her legs... soon.

"Oh -- oh, *God* --"

He shoves the gauntlet back into her mouth as gently as he can --

And knows it for the right decision when she bucks against his thigh. He wouldn't think the material of the uniform is *forgiving* enough to naked flesh --

But she does not want forgiveness.

He shapes his hand to her buttock. He squeezes and remembers --

A half-dreamed fantasy, not a memory. Tom's quick and ready smiles, the lies that never touched his eyes, a moment stolen in the manor, in the bed he'd thought of as their own --

But he couldn't make himself *believe* that those would be the sounds he'd make. He --

And she'll be *muffled* --

He tugs the gauntlet out part of the way --

She hums a question -

"You'll be quiet save when --" He doesn't *want* her to be quiet. He's *never* wanted --

But he has to think about her and *only* her. That's only fair, only right --

"Beautiful," he says because he has to, stroking down the curve of her back, cupping her buttocks and squeezing hard --

She's squeezing her eyes shut, and that could mean -- too many things. He nods to himself and thinks of Lex... yes.

"You're allowed to make sounds, but if you attempt anything which sounds like a word, you'll be punished even more than I'm about to do. Do you *understand*."

She whimpers and nods frantically, shifting --

And he spanks her, feeling himself thicken and rise behind his jock, feeling himself lost to the knowledge that he'll *have* to --

Take her.

Of course there are other things he could do to ease himself, but none of them would match her terribly, frighteningly arousing fantasy. He'll need to *free* himself from the jock soon, but he doesn't know how important it is to her that he keep the uniform *on*.

Lex has told him countless times that explaining a fantasy in detail can make it lose its power, but Bruce remains convinced that there are ways to be clear without being dry --

He'll make her critique his performance after this. That should help... and maybe she'll be too drugged on her own endorphins to feel either embarrassed or embarrassingly clinical.

He spanks her, alternating cheeks, moving to her thighs and back again, spreading her thighs and ---

A *light* spank there makes her shout around the gauntlet.

A harder one makes her squirm and whimper.

A *much* harder one makes her stiffen and try to escape, but --

"Is it too much for you."

She whimpers and instinctively hides her face with her hair --

"No."

She gasps and pushes her hair back over her shoulder, showing him one wide eye, a *pained* expression --

"Is it too *much* for you."

She winces -- and nods.

Bruce *squeezes* her vulva --

She squeaks and shivers --

"*Kick* when I've hurt you too badly. Do you understand."

She nods frantically and turns away, bracing her fingertips on the richly carpeted floor and evening her breathing --

He doesn't want that. He wants --

He spanks her labia majora in the same way he would've spanked Tom's scrotum if Tom had ever --

But what if he was too embarrassed to ask? Too sure of Bruce's *squeamishness* -- no, he can't think those thoughts. *Jessica* is coming to know that he'll give her anything she needs. Jessica knows that he *isn't* too squeamish, that he'll take and share and *show* --

And she's crooning for him now, tossing her head until her hair begins to tangle and pushing up *into* the spanks. It's hard to tell if this is residual wetness from when he was suckling her or if this is *new* --

He wants to bury his face in her vulva again, wants to taste and *learn* --

And now she's crying *out* around the gauntlet, kicking --

He stops -- no.

He moves back to her buttocks and tries to *think* ---

How can he make this better? How -- but she wants Batman, and already Batman has a certain cachet which he's actively working to make stronger, make *better* --

"Did you think I wouldn't see you watching me, Jessica...?"

She *seizes*, slamming against him and up again --

Yes --

"Did you think I wouldn't find you...?"

She whimpers and it *sounds* like she's trying to speak --

"*No*," he says, and pushes two fingers into her vagina --

Her cry is so loud, so *extreme* that the gauntlet falls out of her mouth --

She stuffs it back in and clenches, over and over --

"I remember you, Jessica. The beautiful and lean little girl with the serious eyes and the expensive camera. I remember how *apart* you were from everyone else. I remember seeing your *need* --"

She *starts* to kick -- and then stiffens her legs. She's even wetter now, slick where she isn't raw --

But she's raw in too many places. She -- "I'm going to take you, Jessica."

She nods and clenches *harder* --

"I'm going to take you the way... the way I should have the first time our eyes met."

"Mm -- *mm* *mm* *mm* --"

He pulls out and pushes into her rectum --

She screams seemingly through her *teeth* --

"*Tight*, I -- Jessica --" And he knows he's losing some of his internal cohesion --

It's possible --

"*Jessica*," and that sounded firm, sounded sure, but the clenches --

The smooth-sleek feel of her internal surfaces *here* --

"Do you -- you know what to do if it's too *much*," he says, and means it as a compromise, as something which could lead to them doing something else, somehow something --

She nods.

She nods, and she's so very *tight*, so hot, so --

*Hotter* somehow without her fluids -- no, he requires lubricant --

He has the medical-grade lubricant in the belt he's somehow still wearing --

His penis is throbbing and *flexing* --

And she wants this. She --

He pulls out, stands and lifts her, and *throws* her to the bed, steadying her with a hand on the back of her neck when she *bounces* --

"Hands and *knees*." The height is correct. This -- this will be --

She moves into position immediately, even working herself back until her rear is positioned near the edge of the mattress --

"Beautiful," he says again, but he's already stripping himself. It feels like a *struggle* not to throw the belt the way he'd thrown her lean and sweet body --

He growls and bites his way down her spine, scraping his teeth at the base --

She shakes and *croons* for him --

She spreads herself *wide* --

"You -- you'll know you're *mine*, Jessica --"

She nods and *rocks* back against him over and over again, graceful and *sure* --

She *knows* this pleasure, knows it the way Tom had known it, and that --

He kisses her anus, and her clench is immediate and promising, *sharp*. He tickles her with his tongue until she flexes open, pink and *muscular* --

She's beating at the bed with her *fists* --

"*This*," he says, and shoves in with his tongue, spreads her wider and gives himself permission to moan --

She freezes and croons again --

She whimpers and reaches back for him with one hand --

Bruce pulls out and bites her fingers again -- "Hands *down*."

"*Mmph* --!" And it seems, for a moment, as if her whole body is nodding, as if she needs all of herself to affirm his orders and demands --

In truth, she's moving this way because of the thrust of his tongue... but maybe he should be thinking of it as another sort of demand. Maybe this is all an *excuse* to give himself over to lust, to domination with little subtlety and less *right*.

In his own universe, Clark and Lex are almost certainly watching this happen, and what if they believe Bruce is being selfish? What if he *is* being selfish? He pulls back --

Jessica *shouts* around the gag, loud enough that Bruce worries about the servants he *knows* are in the house. He goes to listen at the door --

Jessica whines until he holds up a hand --

He listens, and he waits, and he forces his heart to slow, his breathing to even out --

Nothing.

Nothing.

Bruce closes his eyes behind the cowl --

Jessica whimpers and there's movement --

And when Bruce looks, Jessica is kneeling and facing him. Her eyes are wide with plea, her thighs are wet, and her body is *shaking*. There can be --

There is no clearer message she could give. There --

There is room for selfishness with Tom, with Tim, and with Jessica. There is *always* room. He'd understood that earlier this afternoon with Lex and Clark, and so Lex and Clark with will almost certainly understand it now. He nods internally and closes the distance between them, turning Jessica around again --

Pushing her down onto her elbows --

"*Mm* --"

He spanks her lips one more time and gives himself over to licking the palm of his hand, to sucking her fluids from his palm --

He growls for both of them --

Jessica spreads her legs again, and Bruce thinks of taking her thighs, of pushing deep into her vagina once more --

Not that.

The lubricant is where it always is, and while the tube isn't full, it's more than full enough for his needs. He should've *warmed* it --

She's still shaking. She --

"Jessica. Know that I would use warm lubricant if I had it --"

She shakes her head and shoves herself back --

"You... prefer it cold."

She nods --

Shakes her head --

And waves her hand back and forth.

Bruce smiles helplessly, glad that she can't see his face -- "Sometimes. I see. Perhaps it makes you feel more... used?"

She groans and lowers her head, exposing her nape --

Bruce covers her and bites her there --

She cries out and wriggles for him, *pushes* her nape against his teeth --

Bruce pulls back and slicks her cleft immediately, watching her shiver and clench, shiver and relax herself again -- "Beautiful girl... I will hurt you."

A moan and a *begging* rock of her hips --

And he can ask for no more compromises. Two fingers slicked with medical-grade lubricant go in easier than two fingers slicked with her own fluids, but she is *perfectly* tight, sleek and wonderful --

Bruce hears himself rumbling in need and realizes that he's already thrusting, already *taking*. She's not silent, but she seems to almost be *thinking* about the sensations more than feeling them --

He can't take that.

He rubs her clitoris with the fingers of his other hand --

She clenches and shouts --

And then her shouts are rhythmic, a muffled *tease* for his ears, but he can see how deep the breaths she's taking are, he can see that she's *feeling* --

"Yes. Like *that*," he says, and he knows his *Batness* is slipping, but like this --

No, if he slips too much she *will* mind. This may even stop being what she *wants*. He breathes deep and focuses himself, tries and fails to will his penis softer --

Her buttocks are so *shapely*, their curve less subtle than that of Tom, of the Tims --

Her scent --

He *twists* the fingers he has inside her --

She tenses hard, flexing nearly every muscle group he can easily *see* --

"You will be made *ready*, Jessica --"

Her moan is high and heartfelt, sharp even through the gauntlet -- and she begins rocking back to meet every thrust, matching Bruce's rhythm before urging him faster, *harder* --

"*Yes*," he says, and she clenches around him but doesn't *stop* --

So perfect --

"Does it *burn*."

She nods rapidly --

"Do you *like* it."

More nodding, and she moves oddly -- no. She's bracing herself on one hand and playing with her nipples with the other, pulling and twisting --

"*Beautiful*. Will you come for me."

She nods almost *comically* fast -- but Bruce has no urge to laugh. This --

"I need to be *inside* you."

She tenses again and rocks back even faster, urging him to take her *viciously* hard -- but he can't incapacitate her. He can't --

She'll *want* more tomorrow, more of some *kind* --

When *he* was a teenager --

Women are different, but --

Sister, beautiful --

He spreads his fingers as much as he can and she bears down on him. He thrusts in a corkscrewing motion and she works her hips like a dancer. He pants and licks his lips and she croons, shouts, *sweats* for him --

For this -- no. More than this.

He stops stroking her clitoris --

She *whines*, high and *driving* --

"*Relax*."

She drops her working hand to the bed again, lowers her head -- no.

"Reach back with your left hand and spread yourself for me."

She whimpers and shudders before relaxing herself again and following orders. Like this, it's impossible to ignore how slight she is, how thin and --

No, not fragile.

A seven-inch *phallus*, some piece of hard plastic --

Metal?

He's *seen* such things at the clubs the Batman occasionally visits for information he can receive nowhere else --

"Where are your toys."

An interrogative hum, *carefully* wordless -- and then she's rocking back again, begging --

She doesn't want the toy --

And Bruce can always work to convince her to bring them back with her.

"Another time," he says, and stills her with the hand he has on her hip --

Squeezes harder when he *remembers* -- and she shivers for him again. This time, she doesn't stop so quickly, and so there is faint motion against the head of his penis when he starts to push --

*Shocking* motion -- which should be anything but -- when she clenches -- "*Open*."

She cries out and flexes open just that quickly, and Bruce can't --

Batman could never have something like this. Batman --

Batman couldn't appreciate heat like this, *welcome* like this, as if every possible motion would be loved, *needed* --

"*Tight* --"

She whimpers *sadly* and tries to push herself back further --

"*Stop*," he says, and emphasizes his order with a *hard* squeeze to her hip -- no. He brushes her hand aside and grips her other hip, too, holds her there --

Oh, right *here* --

"Beautiful girl..." But it comes out as growled as anything else. He's only halfway *in*, and his body needs, his body is *urging* --

She whimpers and claws at the sheets, *shudders* with --

"Do you need... more."

She nods frantically and *starts* to rock -- she stops herself.

"Are you worried you won't *get* it."

She tenses hard -- and nods once more.

"You..." Bruce knows his smile is a terrible thing. As such, he wishes she could see it. It would surely *solidify* the fantasy for her -- "You are not so tight that I won't take you, Jessica."

She groans -- and that curious sound is her *chewing* on the gauntlet --

"Stay still," he says, and lets go with one hand, leaning forward enough to stroke the corner of her mouth, her damp chin -- "You're salivating."

She whimpers and nods. "How shall I take you, Jessica? Shall I merely give in to my own pleasures...?"

The sound she makes is mournful and low -- and her clench is *viciously* hard.

"My pleasure it will be. *Breathe*."

And when she does, he thrusts in the rest of the way in one stroke, biting back the groan but not the gasp. Surely he can be allowed --

Oh, she's so tense, so --

He massages her roughly -- no. He massages her slowly, lingering on the muscles of her upper back -- so strong from he knife training --

It doesn't take long for her to start moaning for every touch, for her to lower her head and offer all of herself --

"I will. I will never let you *go*."

She clenches for that --

Bruce *grunts* --

She clenches *again* --

Oh... "You enjoy my sounds."

"Mm. *Mm* --" And then she nods again, reaching back to touch the hand he has on her hip --

"It's. *Connection*."

Another nod --

"You will never be alone, Jessica. Even. Even when you wish to be so --"

She shakes her head *violently* --

"Be *still*."

Another clench and she drops her head once more...

"You are... too valuable. Too necessary. When you shun us, we will *ache* -- and it will be the same... the same as it is when one of the three of us tries for solitude..." Bruce laughs, and wonders if it's *too* breathless* when she tenses -- "My love. You *are* one of us now. There are *four*."

She tenses --

"*Breathe* --"

She spits out the gauntlet and turns as much as she can -- "B-Bruce --"

"Call me by my *name*," he tries --

"*Bruce* -- oh. You. You're so *big* in me -- that wasn't what I was going to say. Um. Um. You -- I think I feel your *pulse* -- that still wasn't what I was going to say --"

"Let me -- let me be your fantasy --"

"You *are*. You -- you're so good and so -- my *lips* hurt and I --" she shakes her head. "You need -- Batman doesn't have sex. Does he?"

Bruce shivers --"I can do better. Sometimes -- for *Clark* --"

"And maybe... maybe when I'm... an operative. Um -- *oh* --"

The clench makes Bruce grunt again --

"I can -- I feel you so *much* --"

"Do you -- I could pull out --"

"*No*, Bruce. And I meant.... ah. Emotionally?" Jessica laughs softly and whimpers --

Whimpers several *times* -- "Jessica..."

"*Please* --"

"*Anything* --"

"Fuck me -- no. No. Make love to me. Because. Sometimes the lube is cold in the fantasy because *you* can't wait. Not --- just Batman -- *ahn* --"

A moment to press close, to lift her up but not *off*, to *kneel* on her firm, serious bed and spread her over his lap --

"Oh, *Bruce* --"

"*Me*," he says, and cups her small breasts, so soft and full --

He mouths her throat, licks her ear, *bites* her throat --

He holds her steady and still --

"I *ache* for you, Jessica --"

"Take me, *take* me -- *hah* --"

That for the feel of being pulled down the last inch, *speared* -- "Do you *like* --"

"*Yes*, Bruce, oh, don't *stop* --"

"I. I won't. I don't want you silent, but --"

"I -- I heard Mrs. Mac's car pull --" She moans and clenches, moans again -- "Alone, we're *alone* --"

"Then *scream*," Bruce says, pulling out and *shoving* back in --

That was more of a shout, but he can't complain, won't complain, won't *stop* --

"Love -- oh, love --"

"*Bruce* --"

"So -- the *heat* of you --"

Jessica nods and shouts again --

Again --

"Beautiful -- you must -- you must tell me what to *do* --"

"Nnh -- ohn -- just -- so *big* --"

"For *you* --"

"*All* of us -- *fuck* me --"

Bruce squeezes her breasts one more time -- no. He cups them, strokes them --

"Oh, *Bruce* --"

"I would -- I would *suckle* --"

"*Nnh* -- you *can*, you -- I won't make fun of you even -- even a *little* --"

Bruce gasps a laugh and kisses her temple, her cheek --

He lifts her enough that he can *comfortably* bite her throat --

"*Bruce* --"

And then he pulls her back down --

"Oh -- oh, *fuck* --"

"Tell me -- tell me you want *more* --"

"Again -- do that --"

Bruce lifts her and holds her there --

"*Please* --"

"Tell me -- hard and *fast* --"

She whimpers, cries out -- "*Do* it, anything, I *want* you --"

"Tell me I'm *yours* --"

"*Oh* -- oh, *Bruce* --"

"*Please*, Jessica --"

"*Yours* -- *fuck* --"

"*Jessica* --"

"*Mine*, I meant -- I meant everything -- oh, *please* --"

And then it's a matter of pulling back as he lifts her, thrusting *up* as he pulls her down --

She's crying out over and over --

She's beating at her own thighs --

She's clenching and flexing, panting and calling his *name* --

And there's something -- else. Something *other*. Something -- calling his attention away?

He *can't* tear his attention away from this, from *Jessica* --

"I've *got* you," he says, growling into her ear and stroking around to her mound, stroking *between* --

She screams *before* he touches her clitoris --

She screams and *fights* when he does, urging a rougher stroke, a *faster* thrust --

"Oh, *love* --"

"*Please* --!"

He gives her just that, just what she wants, everything she *wants* --

And the heat seems to build with every thrust, seems to thicken the air around them until every one of Bruce's breaths is a gasp, until he feels *drunk* --

"Need -- you must *come*, Jessica --"

Her cry is that of a stooping kestrel, or perhaps something wilder --

She's clawing at one arm, digging the fingernails on the other hand against the back of Bruce's *working* hand --

She's *bouncing* on him, breasts in wonderful, wave-like motion --

"*Jessica* --"

"Yes -- *yes* --" And she cries out sharply and tosses her head back --

And she screams over and over again as her orgasm takes her, tossing her head and *beating* at Bruce's hands, clenching around him --

Oh, yes --

Oh --

She *holds* him inside herself, never flexing all the way open until it seems as though he must *fight* to take her --

Always --

He will --

He *belongs* to her now, and she can't leave, he won't let her --

She slumps and flexes open, and that means he *must* take her harder, must always --

The strike is aimed at the back of his neck, and so he only manages to block it *partially* before it would've temporarily paralyzed him from the neck *down*. He'll have a bruise and his right arm isn't working as well --

He can't risk Jessica's injury, he can't --

He strikes back as quickly as he can -- miss.

He strikes again and blocks what feels like a *batarang* -- oh -- "*Bruce*, I am not an *enemy* --"

"You're a *child* molester," the other Bruce says, and the attacks are --

He can do nothing about the kick that takes him in the back but thank his armor --

Jessica tears herself away from him and cries out --

"*Jessica*," they say at once --

"I'm all *right* -- oh my God. Um. Batman? Why are you *here*?"

Bruce takes the opportunity to tuck himself away -- the pain had allowed him to soften *somewhat* -- and turn -- "I believe he thinks I'm an impostor."

The other Bruce narrows his eyes behind the cowl -- it shows in his exposed cheeks -- "You're *not* the younger version of myself --"

Clark steps out of the air and stands between the other Bruce and him and Jessica --

Clark *drops* --

The other Bruce is holding *kryptonite* --

*Lex* steps through nothing -- and slaps the back of the other Bruce's hand. "*Stop* that, you ass. We're from an alternate universe and we're taking Jessica with us when we go. *Imminently*."

The other Bruce... sizes them up. Bruce does his level best to hide *some* of his training via his stance, but he knows it's pointless. Lex is in range of any number of attacks. Clark is *groaning* --

And Jessica has yanked the top sheet from the bed and wrapped it around herself. "Put. The kryptonite. Away."

"Miss Drake --"

"*Now*!"

The other Bruce makes a soft sound -- "You're in danger --"

"Of getting a *complex*, considering how many people have been monitoring my -- my *sex* life," she says, shaking her head and trying to push a hand back through her hair. It's too tangled for that, and a part of Bruce only wants to brush it --

But he can focus. "We are not enemies," Bruce says, and raises his hands away from his batarangs and belt.

The other Bruce narrows his eyes again -- "You're the cause of the space-time anomalies in this location."

"*Yes*," Lex says, and tugs Clark away from the other Bruce. "And we're really very sorry and we're going to stop. *Imminently*."

"I can't allow you to kidnap --"

"They're not *kidnapping* me," Jessica says, and seems to be looking for a weapon to brandish -- "I'm going by choice. You -- I'm needed in their universe. I can -- make a difference."

"You... Miss Drake --"

"You -- you don't *look* at me, even though you *had* a Tom Wayne. Even though you had to know --"

The other Bruce grunts and makes a fist around the kryptonite. "You were. You were too young --"

"To *know* you? To have -- one fucking *conversation*?"

He shakes his head -- "It would -- I would've had to be... to play the fool --"

"You could've -- did you know I was watching you?"

"Yes. I watched you. I watched you in turn. Miss Drake, you're too *young* --"

"Dick was *thirteen* and Jason was even younger -- *fuck*," she says, and claps her hand to her mouth.

Dick. Jason. His partners. His *future* partners, and how can he find them? *When* will he find them?

"Bruce, please *forget* those names --"

Bruce swallows and shakes his head. "I -- I don't think I *can*, Jessica. But I will try."

Jessica *beats* at her forehead with her hand --

And Lex is there to catch it in his own. "Don't do that, darling. Whenever I feel the urge to beat my head against something hard and unforgiving, I make Bruce take his shirt off. Bruce, take your shirt off."

Oh... Lex. "It probably isn't the best idea at the moment," he says, and continues to watch the other Bruce. The tension running through the man is charging the energy in the room, making it a tight, dangerous kind of thing --

Lex sighs. "Fine. Jess, beat your head against Clark. He's too out of it to soften himself up for you --"

"You. All of you circumvented time as well as space," the other Bruce *grits* --

"*Yes*, damn it. *We* decided to get Tom *back*," Lex says, and crouches near Clark, who is merely panting his discomfort --

And the other Bruce tucks the kryptonite in a lead-lined pocket.

"*Finally*," Jessica says. "Look, you need to just -- get *out* --"

"Please -- Jessica."

"I didn't give you permission to *call* me that, you -- I don't know what to *call* you --"

And the other Bruce pushes his cowl back over his face. There is more grey at his temples than the *other* other Bruce had, and there's a small scar in front of his left ear. "Please. Call me Bruce."

Jessica gasps in a *small* breath and Bruce feels, *needs* --

And Jessica reaches for him, pressing one hand against his chest armor, scrabbling for *purchase* --

Bruce takes her hand and *folds* it into his own. "I'm here, Jessica. I will *always* be here --"

And the other Bruce squeezes his eyes shut for a moment. When he opens them, they're wide and *wild*. "The others... I was not taking them as *lovers*, Jessica."

She jerks, shaking her head --

"I watched you, and brought reports of you home to Lex. I told Clark everything I knew about you, and when you took your pleasure, I -- I turned *away*. But not always," the other Bruce says, and sounds mournful, *old* --

"You. You waited for me to come today."

"Yes."

"You -- God, you -- *no* --"

"*Please* --"

"You're *sick* --"

The other Bruce takes a step closer --

"*Stop* --"

And Clark is up and pressing the other Bruce against the other wall, holding the belt away from him with his other hand. "You will not pressure her in any way," Clark says, and his voice has the thickness and care it always has after he's been exposed to kryptonite --

The other Bruce nods, dropping his hands to his sides and -- staring.

Jessica crosses her arms over her chest and stares down at the floor, and the tension in her own jaw --

Lex stands and cups her shoulder. "We don't have to stay here one moment longer. Hope is waiting to bring *all* of us back."

"You. You shouldn't have risked --"

"There is nothing I wouldn't risk for my companions," Lex says, and lifts Jessica's chin. "One of us."

Jessica moans softly --

Jerks --

"Ah... I'm hoping I don't always react *quite* that way --" Jessica laughs and shakes her head... and then turns to the other Bruce. "You... you should've come for me."

"I've lost my -- *our* chance."

She frowns and shakes her head. "I... I can visit --"

"*Please* --"

"*Quiet*," she says, and makes a pushing gesture with her hand. "Look, I -- why the hell did you *stop* looking for Tom if you still -- if you feel the way you're acting like you do?"

The other Bruce smiles ruefully, anciently -- "It took us longer to find you. When we discovered that the biological signature in question belonged to the child of Janet and Jackson Drake, you were three years old. Clark convinced us that it would be... obscene to steal you from your future --"

Clark grunts and shakes *his* head --

And the other Bruce sighs a terrible fraction of a laugh. "We... it seemed correct to wait. At least... at least until you were sixteen."

Jessica frowns again and steps closer to Lex. "I needed... no, I don't know if I needed *you*. But I needed someone who would look me in the eye, someone who would try for me, someone who would help me be *useful*, someone I could be useful *for* --"

"All. All of those things are available to you."

Jessica nods slowly. "Yes, they are. Over... well, over *there*. But, I *am* going to visit --"

"Thank you --"

"You have a lot to fucking *explain* to me --"

"Everything --"

"What the hell did you do when I *cried*, Bruce?"

The other Bruce exhales as if he'd been *punched* --

"*Tell* me!"

"I ached. I imagined bringing Dick here to make you smile, Jason to make you laugh, Clark to take your breath away, Lex to *distract* you with everything... everything his wonderful mind could imagine --"

"*You*, Bruce! You were right *here*!"

"Jessica. Every day since your menarche has been a struggle between my desires and my control."

Jessica rears back --

"*That's* fucking sick," Lex says, striding close and jabbing his finger at the other Bruce. "What the hell have you *done* with your partners?"

The other Bruce says nothing -- but he turns to him.

"*Don't* look at him. He's done *nothing* wrong --"

"Yet," Bruce says, and hears himself make a sound --

A terrible *sound* --

Thirteen?

Younger than that?

But Jessica is there, pressed against him and holding on -- "It's all *right*, Bruce," she says, and urges him to listen to her with the scratch of her fingernails on his chest armor, the pressure of her small hands -- "You won't -- you'll have *help* when you meet them. You'll never be alone --"

"Tom said that once," the other Bruce says, and smiles like he's *drugged* on emotion, on *hurt* -- "He was right. Perhaps it will do you more good than it's done --" He grunts and shakes his head hard. "I will not wallow. I will not -- I am a lucky man with a large family and I normally have no difficulty remembering that." He stares at the back of Jessica's head --

And Jessica doesn't turn, but she tenses enough that Bruce knows that *she* knows that she has the other Bruce's attention.

Perhaps she will always feel that way now. Perhaps --

Bruce wraps his arms around her and holds her as firmly as he can without crushing her to his body --

Perhaps she will allow him to hide her from the wider world -- and beyond -- with himself, if only for brief stretches of time --

And so a part of him is laughing when she pushes away from him and turns. He'd warned himself about this, even though there was no time to prepare --

"We'll... talk," she says to the other Bruce.

He nods once and doesn't blink --

He knows everything about how that feels, how that *need* feels --

Lex hums thoughtfully. "Your work to find Tom was delayed by the 'designer baby' business."

The other Bruce nods. "It was... precisely as ugly as I'm sure you can imagine. Our Lex was... stricken that such a thing could come from his work and work he'd approved of," and he turns to look at Jessica. "For all that he could never truly regret anything which brought you into the world."

Jessica starts to turn away -- she sets her jaw and meets the man's eyes. "I can't trust you."

This time, the other Bruce does close his eyes for a moment. "I understand."

"I... I'll look in on you. When I can."

"Have you thought... no. You plan to tell your parents nothing."

Jessica shows her teeth -- stops. "No. I plan to leave a note telling them that I'm safe and happy and will contact them when it's possible to do so. Presumably *someone* will find it eventually. Sooner if I tack it up on the coffee machine. Maybe."

The other Bruce nods once. "You... it's easy, when young, to take one's family for granted --"

"And how much of my family life have you *watched*, Bruce?"

The other Bruce clenches his hands into fists. "I thought -- it seemed. It seemed better to let you develop as you would. I... I've shaped my partners so very much, Jessica. I didn't want to risk *changing* you --"

"Yes, yes, your reasons make *sense*, objectively. Subjectively, they're --" She cuts herself off. "I don't want to argue with you --"

"I would take every moment --"

"You would try to convince me, and everyone knows you've spent *decades* perfecting the art of the mind-fuck," she says, and smiles sharply. "When I'm secure, Bruce. When I can believe what my new companions say about my *being* their companion. When I've learned just a bit of Kryptonian. When I've let Lex dress me to his heart's content. When Bruce has surrendered a bit more of his courtly tendencies. When -- when I'm *secure*."

"That's when you'll come to me? To *us*."

She smiles more broadly, crossing the room and pushing Clark away from the other Bruce. She looks smaller next to him than she seems when she's close to *him* -- and she looks harder, too.

"Jessica..."

"I know I should give you time to get to know me as a person rather than as a not-attainable-*yet* ideal, but..." She shakes her head. "I can't, yet."

"I understand --"

"Do you? Can I trust you not to build a machine of your own?"

The other Bruce winces -- "I... may not be able to stop Lex --"

"Just to let you know? That *would* be kidnapping, and I would do everything I could to make you -- *all* of you -- regret even allowing the idea time to sit in your *minds*."

"There can be -- communication through the machines. Calls can be made --"

"Not *yet*," she says, and jabs at the bat --

"Yes. I understand --"

Jessica shakes her head. "You'll forgive me --"

"Anything."

Jessica *growls* -- and then steps back and raises her hands, turning away from the other Bruce and very clearly deciding against further conversation --

"I love you, Jessica --"

Jessica points at her bedroom window --

"At your command," the other Bruce says, and goes.

At the pop and puff of a grapple gun, Jessica relaxes. Not wholly, but enough that Bruce can imagine her sleeping tonight without requiring a rubdown --

He'd very much like to give her the rubdown, anyway --

He isn't sure it's his 'turn.' Or if he should be thinking of the matter in those terms. Or --

Jessica sighs out a laugh. "Well. That was... horrendous."

"I'm *more* than willing to help you begin the process of forgetting *all* about it, darling," and Lex is handing Jessica's monitor to Clark, who tucks it beneath his arm before moving to her side --

"Or we can discuss it at any length you desire," he says, and cups her shoulder.

"I -- hmm." She turns to him. "I imagine you've... lost the mood entirely?"

Bruce blinks behind the cowl -- "I... could get it back? Rapidly, I believe. The scent of you in this room --"

"We're *not* staying here," she says, brushing Clark's hand from her shoulder and moving to her desk. She picks up a notepad and writes a very neat -- and short -- letter at speed. She uses the paper's adhesive to stick it to the outside of her bedroom door, looks around --

She crouches to pull a knife case from under the bed and turns to Lex. "When will we start acquiring my wardrobe?"

Lex's smile is joyously predatory. "As soon as you give the word, Jess. I have four tailors on-call twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. None of them have *much* experience with teenaged girls that I know about --"

"I don't particularly want to dress like a teenaged girl, Lex."

Lex raises an eyebrow. "Even for... school?"

"Get tutors on speed-dial. I'm done with adolescents. And adolescence."

Lex strokes Jessica's cheek with his fingertips. "You could use this opportunity to have an adolescence you'll *enjoy*...?"

Jessica licks Lex's palm. "Perhaps when I'm in my twenties. Let's go."

Lex looks triumphantly thrilled.

Clark looks troubled but *game* --

And Bruce feels himself awed, humbled, *taken* --

He stands straight. "Hope, we're ready to return."

The process of getting them all back in the lab takes less than a minute, and Clark flies Jessica up to the penthouse at speed. Lex follows in the elevator after promising Bruce that they'll all return to the manor once Jessica's measurements have been taken by the consummate professionals Lex will call from the penthouse.

That leaves him, and even without the knowledge that Hope had taken a call from Harvey with no attendant message, he would know what he has to do. He showers, changes, and has Hope drive him home.

Hope doesn't *quite* hustle him to the kitchen to take a late meal at gunpoint, but there's something of that to her not-quite-lack of an expression. She doesn't leave him until he's sitting down with his mouth full of a sweetly mild crab and cucumber salad, and then it's only to bring Harvey to him --

"Hey, you're back! I don't know how the hell you ever dealt with living someplace you couldn't *know* when someone was coming or going, big guy," Harvey says, and heads straight for the refrigerator. He pulls out most of a roast sirloin tip and seems to be debating over whether or not to also have what looks to be mashed potatoes. Hm.

"Hope..."

"Yes, Bruce."

"Is there a reason why I wasn't allowed to have roast beef?"

"Yes, Bruce."

A part of him -- a very large part of him -- wants to leave the conversation to die right there. The rest has noted that there's a *light* in Hope's eyes --

Harvey sets the roast on the counter and brings the potatoes to the microwave, humming absently --

Bruce breathes deep and girds himself. "What... what *is* the reason?"

She narrows her eyes. "You have not earned it."

Bruce blinks rapidly. "I --"

Hope turns on her heel and walks out without another word.

"Hm."

"Nuh-uh, don't say a word, big guy. *You* let Lex hire them."

Bruce sighs. "No one *lets* Lex do *anything*, Harv."

Harvey grins back over his shoulder at him. "Those are the words of a *quitter*. Are you a quitter, Bruce?"

"Alfred has often made me *feel* like a quitter. And like a lazy, antisocial lump who will never have any friends --"

Harvey moves close and taps Bruce's head with the edge of the plate the roast is on. "That's because you are. Alfred's always right."

"I had my suspicions. I believe Alfred keeps the horseradish on the third shelf on the refrigerator door."

"Ah, I'll just mix it in with the potatoes like the peasant I am, big guy --"

"*I* mix it with the mashed potatoes, Harv. I quite like it that way." Since I saw you doing it --

Harvey raises his eyebrows. "Yeah? For serious?"

Bruce nods as solemnly as he can.

"Well, all right, then." He retrieves the horseradish and potatoes and sits next to Bruce.

They eat in silence for several minutes, and then Harvey laughs and begins wrapping spoonfuls of horseradish-infused potatoes in large slices of beef. When he has six, he pushes three to the left side of his plate, and looks at Bruce pointedly.

Bruce swallows his perfectly adequate salad and raises an eyebrow. "For me?"

"Big guy, you're not even tasting that. Eat."

"I feel certain that I should be encouraging *you* to eat, Harv --"

"You don't *have* to. This beef is doing all the encouraging I need. Go on, mangia."

Bruce looks around for signs of Alfred or Hope or Mercy --

"Coast is clear on this end. C'mon, make with the eat-eat."

"Is that even an accepted --" There is roast beef in his mouth, and it's delicious. Moist. Subtly yet perfectly spiced. The potatoes have a creamy tang --

Bruce eats.

In the end, they consume a significant fraction of the roast beef. There *is* enough left for Lex and Jessica, but it's still somewhat guilt-inducing. For all he knows, Alfred had planned the salad for him especially --

"*Relax*. Alfred already informed me that I was eating a hell of a lot of ham tomorrow, that Clark-was getting some kind of Mediterranean pasta thing, that Jessica was getting God only knows what --"

"Hm. Alfred clearly believes we're not eating enough."

Harvey snorts and claps Bruce on the shoulder before leaning back and rubbing his abdomen. "Man, I *want* to eat more, but..."

"Your appetite will take some time to come back, I believe," Bruce says, and covers Harvey's hand with his own.

"Like Gilda, maybe?'

Bruce fights back a wince --

Harvey waves his free hand at him. "Don't listen to me. I was just feeling good for long enough to remember how bad I should be feeling."

"Harv --"

"And I know that's... not right. Thinking-wise, I mean." Harvey shakes his head and stares at nothing. "The -- apparently perfectly sane -- therapist Leslie hooked me up with after that whole Strange *thing* says that's normal. That I'll be beating myself up, and beating myself up for beating myself up, and beating other people up -- *hopefully* not literally..." Harvey scrubs at his face with his hands. "I can't ask her to put up with that. I can't ask *you* to put up with that --"

"You can ask me anything, Harv --"

"You -- argh. I know you're not saying you love me more than she does. I know I'm just -- a fuckin' mess," Harvey says, and drags his hands down off his face. "Part of me... part of me is gonna look for any excuse to make you chase me away. *Because* I know I need to be here."

Bruce's chest hurts, and he can't decide if it's a good or bad thing. "You're welcome. And I... we all have experience with emotional difficulties."

"Clark, too?"

Bruce smiles ruefully. "He was raised to be kind and open and warm... and to lie with every breath he took."

Harvey blows out a breath. "Yeah, okay, I can see it. You know... I honestly thought he was *just* the extra boyfriend you picked up tooling around with Lex. He's pretty damned *good* at lying his ass off."

"To be fair, Superman is the lie more often than not."

"Like Batman?"

Bruce smiles and closes his eyes for a moment. When he opens them, Harvey is looking at him with both curiosity and acceptance. "I'm afraid... of many things. One of the things I fear is how much of me can become the Batman at any given moment."

"It's that big a deal?"

"Sometimes it isn't. When I get to spend time with Lex, or with Clark when he's *being* Clark, or with *you* --"

"Or Tom-Tim-Jessica?"

Bruce smiles helplessly. "She --"

"Agreed to throw off her whole damned universe for you guys. Yeah, Mercy told me. You uh... you're not planning on aging down *all* of your hookups, are you?"

Their names are Jason and Dick... and he will have his companions around him. "The Bruce from her universe stalked Jessica for years without making contact. He wanted to wait until she was... old enough."

Harvey winces. "Lemme guess -- that went over like a lead balloon with your new girlfriend."

Bruce nods. "Though she did promise to speak to him from time to time, and even to visit."

"Just as soon as Lex figures out how to implant a multiversal boomerang?"

"Well... the thought had occurred," Bruce says, and takes a sip of his ice water. "I have no intention of focusing my attentions on teenagers, Harv. Not -- in that way."

"But in *other* ways? Like *partner* ways?"

Bruce smiles ruefully again. "I've been faced with several universes where a Bruce has worked -- successfully -- with younger partners --"

"*And* you've been faced with universes where -- where one of those partners gets killed," Harvey says, and looks ill --

Bruce squeezes Harvey's hand. "The man who committed those crimes is not the man sitting beside me."

"He could've been --"

"He won't be."

Harvey breathes deep and closes his eyes. "I can't stop seeing the kid, big guy. Sure, I don't know his face or even his *name* --"

"Jessica slipped. His name will be Jason."

"Ah -- shit. Seriously?"

Bruce nods.

"And we already know he'll be black-haired, blue-eyed --"

"Lex caught a glimpse of him when he checked on the other universes. He'll be... quite large while still a teenager --"

"Jesus, Bruce, are you trying to make these godawful images *more* real?"

"He will be a boy of flesh and blood, Harv. The nameless boy in your mind is only a phantom. A *fancy* brought on by... far too much stress and difficulty. Let him go."

Harvey's eyes are wide as they search Bruce's own, wide and *bleak* -- "Bruce..."

"I'm here, Harv. I'll always *be* here --"

"For me?"

Bruce turns his chair to face Harvey's and takes Harvey's hands in his own. "When I was a boy, I dreamed of following you to college, to law school --"

"You didn't *care* about the law --"

"I cared about -- *care* about -- everything you do, Harv. That -- that's been true since *before* you introduced yourself to me at Exeter. I've always needed you, the light in you --" Bruce smiles and shakes his head. "I've always thought that there were vanishingly few things we couldn't do if we were *all* together. I can't help but see this as a chance to be with you, to share and *speak* with you. You don't know how much I miss you sleeping above me."

"I *do* know how much you miss other things, you damned horndog."

Bruce laughs. "Shall I deny it, Harv? You've been one of the most beautiful men in my world since I was *fourteen*. You've *seen* some of the sketches I've done of you --"

Harvey squeezes Bruce's hands. "And this is what Tom -- and Tom-like people --does for you, isn't it? They bring you out. They..." He grins. "Not even Lex brings that out of you completely. You *play* with him, sure, but... nah, I don't know what I'm talking about --"

"But you *can* know --"

"So I should maybe treat this like a *vacation*?"

"I promise to let you drag me out into sunlight at least once."

"The sun doesn't *shine* on the manor, big guy. Trust me -- I used to take runs out there."

"Hm. That *would* explain some of Lex's complaints."

"Are you kidding me? He burns like lighter fluid."

"I believe he misses needing to use his sunblock. To be fair to him, it does smell infinitely better than most of the creams on the market."

Harvey laughs rather more than the joke demands, and Bruce knows that he's really releasing tension and *allowing* himself the opportunity to have pleasure...

Bruce stands and pulls Harvey up with him, then pulls him into a hug --

"Ah, big guy --"

"I need you to know that we can always have this, Harv --"

"I *do* know. I just don't always --"

"Believe it?"

Harvey sighs and rests his forehead against Bruce's throat. "Love you. Always."

"Always," Bruce says, and squeezes Harvey firmly. "I also need you to know that I'll do everything in my power to help you bring Gilda home."

Harvey stiffens -- "And you mean that. Of course you mean that. Just --" Harvey leans back and smiles into Bruce's eyes. His own eyes are brighter and less bruised-seeming than they had been, though he is still more gaunt than not.

Bruce strokes his back --

"In another world -- ah, what do I know? You've *seen* all those other worlds, and *we're* not together in any of them."

Bruce smiles ruefully. "I haven't seen all of them. And I... believe."

Harvey squeezes his eyes shut, bares his teeth -- "Let me make up for last night."

"Harv?"

"One -- one *real* kiss --"

"Oh. I... Harv, are you sure?"

Harvey opens his eyes and his smile is wild, *hot* -- "Love you so much -- "

Bruce cups Harvey's face and kisses him the way he'd done it the first time, using everything Tom had taught him about how to make a kiss warm, hungry, loving, *needful* --

Harvey moans and licks Bruce's tongue, the insides of his cheeks, his palate --

Harvey presses closer, covers Bruce's hands --

Harvey moves Bruce's hands to his too-lean hips and Bruce squeezes --

"*Fuck*, big guy, I'm not -- I didn't mean --"

Bruce kisses Harvey firmly and then pulls back and raises his eyebrow.

Harvey narrows his eyes. "Lex doesn't let you cut your hair, does he?"

Bruce blinks. "I -- no, he prefers it to be this length --"

"So do I. It's gotta be hell in the cowl?"

"Sometimes. But not so much that I would take pleasure away from a lover."

Harvey squeezes his eyes shut, breathes deeply -- "You gotta tell me *why* I keep thinking that I can *only* kiss you once when *every* damned time it happens -- heh. Every time I *make* it happen." Harvey raises his own eyebrows.

Bruce shows his teeth. "I could say something about the definition of insanity."

Harvey's laugh is a breathless flood. "Ah, fuck you, anyway, big guy. I'm *fragile*."

Bruce lets his expression *be* a smile. "You're beautiful -- and you miss your beloved wife very, very much. Will you share my bed again tonight?"

"Ah, that's a big no, because the *sane* part of me *doesn't* want a stick a hand down your boxers, and also because I need some place to get up and go to when the nightmares bite me."

"Harv --"

Harvey raises a hand and pushes with it. "Trust me on this one. And something tells me you're gonna need that huge bed when your *other* lovers show up back here, yeah?"

A part of him is *instantly* lost to the memories of being inside Jessica --

And Harvey is laughing at him softly and easily. "*And* you'll be heading out to patrol tonight, yeah?"

"I do try to avoid missing two nights in a row if it's at all possible, but --"

"But nothing. Come loom over my bed in the dark when you get back in. Give me *new* nightmares, k?"

Bruce reaches out to stroke Harvey's cheek. The stubble is heavier than he remembers from the days and nights when they made love --

Harvey smiles and closes his eyes, but they're tracking fast behind the lids -- "It's okay, big guy. And if it's not -- it will be."

"I believe that's my line."

"Not right now it isn't," Harvey says, opening his eyes and turning to kiss Bruce's fingers. "You know something? A part of me regrets being a stupid, crazy asshole these past few weeks *just* because there's no way I can bring up having a threesome with you and Gilda until *long* after she forgives me."

Bruce blinks. Harvey had *mentioned* that, but he was at the height of his difficulties then, and --

"Yeah, think on that. 'Cause I promise *I* will. Christ, big guy, now I *know* you can get it up for short, thin, dark-haired women."

"I've always found Gilda... very attractive. Especially when I've considered how she might go about making love to you."

Harvey stares at him.

"That was too much, wasn't it?"

Harvey bites his lip, but it's obvious that he's trying to hold in laughter.

Bruce sighs. "Lex keeps promising to teach me not to put my foot in my mouth, but I'm beginning to suspect he takes far too much pleasure out of it to actually do anything --"

"Ah, that's where you're wrong, darling -- I take exactly *enough* pleasure out of it," and Lex walks in through the service entrance with Jessica at his side. She's wearing most of one of the suits Lex had purchased for the taller, broader Tom they had originally expected, and she looks... very happy. But --

"Did Clark have to leave?"

"There's an earthquake in Los Angeles," Jessica says, and smiles at both Bruce and Harvey.

Harvey offers Jessica his hand. "Nice to meet you for the first but also not the first time."

Jessica hums and gives Harvey a *firm* handshake, very clearly thrilling to do so. "The first for me... in a way. In any event, it's a pleasure."

"Meaning I'm *not* due to go even crazier anymore. Perfection," he says, breathing deep -- no, he's fighting a yawn. "Jesus, did Alfred drug the roast *beef*?"

Jessica's smile is small and shrewd. "Considering your exhaustion levels... would he really have to?"

"Ah, you're too young to be a mother hen. And I'm too damned old to turn down a big, comfy bed with no restraints when it's in front of me. Still..." Harvey turns to raise his eyebrows at Lex. "How are *you* feeling about me hanging out for a while?"

"Harvey, darling, words can't express how much I'm enjoying *you* being the pale, unhealthy-looking one."

Harvey snorts. "All right, that's it, I'm taking the roast beef to bed with me --" 

"That will *not* be necessary, Master Harvey," Alfred says, *appearing* the way he will always be able to do. "If you'll just retire to your bedroom, you will find a tray with several small snacks for you to enjoy before you take your rest."

"When did you even have *time* -- all right, I'm not asking." Harvey bows from the waist. "Thank you *kindly*, Al. I'm gonna enjoy every bite." He stands again. "All of you have a *good* night, please, and Bruce? Continue not getting yourself killed."

"I'll try," Bruce says, and smiles as he watches Harvey go.

Alfred hums. "Miss Jessica, when have you last eaten?"

"Oh. I... hours ago, actually --"

Alfred glares at both he and Lex. He doesn't change his facial expression, and the heat in his eyes is *mild* --

"Oh -- we're very sorry, Alfred," Lex says --

"Yes. I. We... were not thinking. Clearly."

"And that's something we're going to -- we *have* remedied. Because. Ah."

"We're here," Bruce says. "In the kitchen."

Jessica coughs to -- badly -- disguise a laugh. "I would love some of that roast beef."

"Indeed, young miss? Is it a favorite?"

"Well... I don't eat it from just any restaurant, but I've always enjoyed the way Mrs. Mac prepared it for us, and yours certainly smells quite wonderful."

"A discerning palate must be encouraged. I would appreciate it a great deal if you could tell me about your favorite dishes and how you wish to have them prepared."

"Oh, all right. I don't want to be --"

"You are now a member of this household, young miss, and you will be treated accordingly."

Jessica blushes and smiles *brightly* --

Bruce cups her shoulder and squeezes --

Lex tugs her ponytail lightly --

Alfred glares at both of them again --

"Oh -- gah. Ah. I believe Bruce and I are needed... elsewhere, Jess."

Jessica hums. "That's all right. I have a feeling that Alfred and I have much to discuss," and she turns to him. "I'll meet you in the Cave before you leave...?"

Bruce smiles helplessly. "Please do."

She looks at him from under her lashes -- and then she turns back to Alfred. "Will you sit with me at the table, Alfred?"

"I have some few things to prepare for your meal, Miss Jessica, but I will join you when I am finished," Alfred says, and smiles at her with his eyes --

Jessica has no trouble finding it, which is more than Bruce can say about how he'd reacted to it the first few times Alfred had shown it to *him* --

And Lex takes his arm.

"Yes, Lex, I'm coming."

Three glares from Alfred would probably be worth their lives.

*

Clark has to admit that his *first* reaction to having it become 'known' that Bruce was dating Lois wasn't especially cheerful or mature -- and now that he *isn't* the youngest, he really has to *watch* that -- but the not-quite-charade has gone well for the past two years, and it's an excellent excuse to fly Lois to Gotham as much as possible.

She always enjoys it --

They *all* always enjoy it, because even though Lois and Jessica aren't physically attracted to each other in the slightest, Jessica has said more than once that she learns from Lois a great deal, and Lois is not above treating Jessica as a younger sister -- and one far better suited to *being* Lois' younger sister than Lucy Lane.

It makes Clark wonder how Lois would've gotten along with Tim -- any of them or all of them -- and he knows he's not the only one who does.

Lex has turned his attention to destroying LuthorCorp from every possible angle, and the leads his spies -- and they report *only* to him -- have gotten have led to any number of raids which have helped to tarnish Lionel Luthor's reputation the world over. Even the Metropolis Moon is struggling -- buckling under lawsuits filed by an entire division of B-L's law firm. Still, it means that the man's attacks have become more vicious -- to the point where Hope and Mercy are both armored at *all* times.

Mercy doesn't appreciate 'looking like a goddamned vigilante,' but Hope seems quite pleased with the designs for her uniforms. Hope is *also* pleased with Jessica, as the two have an even deeper friendship than *Lois* and Jessica -- deep enough that, sometimes, Clark can scent Hope's arousal in the air after she and Jessica have sparred.

Clark isn't at all sure what to do about that -- Hope herself seems to be unaware of it, and so neither Lex nor Bruce nor Jessica have noticed it... well.

It is, perhaps, not his place.

What *was* his place was the planning session which had occurred after curiosity had driven him to the Drakes' townhouse one night when their son was eighteen months old. The boy had been left utterly alone in a play-pen with no toys while the nanny was sent grocery shopping. The elder Drakes were having a conversation over white wine and a beautiful selection of fruit -- and the conversation never touched on their son, at all.

The boy sat quietly alone in his play-pen for twenty minutes --

An hour --

Ninety minutes --

Finally the nanny returned, but all she did was throw a stuffed bear into the pen before busying herself with the Drakes' *groceries*. That, along with everything Jessica has told him about her parents, everything Robin works against when she makes sure that orphaned -- or functionally orphaned -- children have a safe space to grow up in --

("We have to take him *away* from them, Bruce!"

"The thought had occurred. But there's been no overt abuse --"

"We *all* know that's meaningless, darling -- all right, Clark. Plant *cameras*.")

And so he had, and he'd made sure the footage made it to every local media outlet and some few of the national ones -- after Bruce had edited it, of course -- and then --

("Jessica, how do *you* feel --"

"Relieved that a difference will be made -- one way or another. He's still young enough that he might not remember the headlines, after all.")

Jessica can be the most serious-minded young woman --

Jessica's last name has officially been Nyman for over two years, now. And though she comes from a branch of Mercy's adoptive family which never *existed* --

Very few people dig into the lives of bodyguards, whether or not they should, and -- 

Tim Drake has been Bruce Wayne's foster son for three months now. It will be at least another fifteen months before he can be formally adopted, but Lex and Janet have already come to an arrangement. In return for several lucrative contracts connecting B-L to Drake Industries, Janet and Jackson will soon be doing a press conference which will include a short speech about how they didn't realize that they weren't ready to be parents, that seeing Tim with his new family brought home their own inadequacies, that Tim was happy and healthy and they could never take him away from that... et cetera.

The speech is already written -- Lois had helped Lex with it -- and it's a marvel of modern sympathy-mongering, a mea culpa combined with a shameless demand to be forgiven. Jessica has predicted that the DI stock will recover quickly -- and possibly even surpass old records -- once the speech has been made, and Clark has to admit that she has a point.

He just also has to admit that, sometimes, he isn't very fond of humans, at all.

Lionel Luthor has lost his right hand and most of his forearm to kryptonite-related cancers, but his robotic replacement is powerful enough to crack bone between its pincers.

Seamus Orr has disappeared off the face of the earth -- and is most probably dead -- but Lionel Luthor has retained the services of an even worse man who chooses to go by the name *Cain*.

Bruce comes home wounded at least once a week because of humans and metahumans who choose to hurt known heroes rather than live productive and helpful lives.

Jessica's skin is already slashed and dotted with scars because of those *same* people --

Clark smiles ruefully at himself when he realizes that he has, once again, flown himself over Gotham. There are so *many* things which can remind him that he's not truly a misanthrope, and most of them are in *this* city. Right now, Jessica is touring the labs in Wayne Tower -- her usual choice for when she needs a break from her tutors. Bruce is working himself to greater heights of physical perfection, and is undoubtedly looking forward to Jessica joining him no more than three hours from now. Lex is --

Well, he's wearing an extremely beautiful dress, heels, makeup, and clip-on earrings. Mercy is fellating him, and Lex's smile is savage. Clark checks: all of the cameras are filming.

In the B-L daycare center, Hope is feeding Tim what looks to be a very delicious cereal while the caregivers of the other children alternately do the same with their children or play with them. Hope is humming a song --

No, Clark can't wait. He signals Hope that he's coming in, waits impatiently for Hope to cover the Supperware container of cereal and tuck it in the baby bag before she walks past the vigilant ranks of mercenaries to get to the nap room, which is empty at the moment.

Clark flies in, fixes the thick, soft mats, and lifts Tim into his arms.

As always, his eyes widen and brighten for this treatment, but the sound he makes is *quiet*, which... is precisely the sort of thing one would expect from a child who spent that much of his life with people who hardly ever *responded*. There is, as of yet, no sign of attachment disorder, but Clark still worries.

And hides his worries in hugs, and slow, bouncy flights around the room until --

"Cark. Cark. Unca *Cark*."

Clark smiles brightly. "I'm sorry, Tim, but I can't hear you over this zorbet."

Tim frowns. "There's no zo-bit."

"Oh, yes, there is," Clark says, and makes sure Tim's little belly will positively *buzz* --

Tim kicks and giggles --

Clark zorbets *again* --

"Unca *Cark*!"

Oh, every time he shouts is a *victory* -- Clark lifts and turns Tim until they're facing each other again. "Yes, Tim?"

"Honk!" And Tim smacks Clark's nose. "Honk honk!" Two more smacks.

Clark isn't sure if this is Tim's favorite game, but he thinks it's telling that *Jessica* is the one who introduced him to it. Clark, of course, adds his own twist: Every time Tim smacks his nose, he pitches his voice to sound like the -- quiet -- horn of a semi.

Eventually, Tim's giggles become the strained breaths of a much younger baby -- one who hasn't quite figured *out* all of laughter's mechanisms -- and Clark has to hug him again.

After a moment, Hope joins the hug, nuzzling first Tim's cheek and then Clark's own. They stay that way for two full minutes -- exactly -- and then Hope pulls back and takes Tim with her --

"Cark?" It's a question *for* Hope --

"Later, Tim. You must first finish your cereal."

"Es, Hope."

She taps his nose. "Honk."

It surprises Tim into a giggle, and then he hugs her again. Hope hitches him up with one strong arm and raises an eyebrow at Clark.

Clark smiles ruefully. "Yes, I believe I *did* get something close to what I needed, Hope. Thank you very much."

She inclines her head and hitches the baby bag more firmly on her shoulder. "Tim must be hugged and played with at all times possible. I am not always the best choice for this --"

And Tim pushes and wriggles until both of his arms are around Hope's left. "Hope."

"Yes, Tim."

"Hope is good. Hope is --" Tim frowns in thought -- "*You* are good."

Hope hums. "Your speech is improving just as much as it should. Would you like to watch Clark and I speaking while you eat."

Tim nods solemnly.

"All right," Hope says, and sits them down on the mat she had chosen for Tim's own. "Remember, Clark may have to leave suddenly."

Another solemn nod, followed by Tim bringing one finger to his mouth and whispering: "Soopaman."

"Yes, Tim. And that is knowledge only for us."

"Es, Hope."

Hope feeds Tim two more bites of the cereal -- it smells like wheat and very good milk which is possibly from Hester back in Smallville -- then hands Clark the bowl and the spoon. They speak about Tim's physical and intellectual progress -- Hope doesn't feel qualified to speak about his emotions -- and, when Tim insists, Clark allows him to feed himself two bites of his cereal. He still has trouble holding a utensil -- remnant of a nasty break acquired when Tim had climbed out of his lonely play-pen in an attempt to get a toy before DYFS had taken Tim away -- but he *is* improving.

The doctors -- and Lex had insisted Leslie recommend *all* of the best pediatric orthopedists -- all say that he should have normal function by the time he's three. For most things, Tim's left arm is good enough to pick up the slack, but his fine motor skills aren't the best.

When Tim is done eating, Clark massages his arms and shoulders carefully -- and *then* the other caregivers begin gathering their children for naptime. Tim is already yawning and somewhat glassy-eyed. Even honking his nose only gets a few blinks.

Clark kisses Tim's forehead, hugs both him and Hope again, and flies.

In four hours, Clark will fly Lois to Gotham for a date with Bruce... which will actually be a date with Clark and Lex while Bruce and Jessica prepare for patrol.

He isn't yet sure which of them will wind up on their knees to the other two, but he has his hopes. Still, *all* of them have a tentative date with Harvey, Gilda, and the twins Gilda is carrying just after what should be a short patrol for Bruce and Jessica, so it's possible that Lex won't want to get too aggressive. Lex's determination to make Gilda like him -- or at least not hate him -- may be somewhat quixotic, but Clark has learned to trust Lex to make all sorts of impossible things work.

*Anything* may not be possible, but *many* things are, and, certainly, all of them are invested in making sure Jessica has as many reasons as they can think of to wish to come back to this universe after her next scheduled visit to what had been her own, especially since Jessica had mentioned that she might see her parents, too, this time around.

It's not that any of them think, at this late date, that she *won't* come back, but it's the principle of the thing. Or so he tells himself as he flies through the hologram and into the Cave.

He watches Bruce do a kata both he and Jessica make look easy --

He eats several of the oatmeal-raisin-pecan cookies Alfred brings down on a tray --

He watches Bruce smile at him for a long, beautiful second before tackling the man to the mats -- far less forgiving than the ones at B-L daycare --

"To what," Bruce says, catching his breath insultingly quickly, "do I owe the pleasure?"

"Your wonderful son reminded me of you."

"And not everyone else in the family...?"

"Ah... well..."

"Hmm. They're all terribly busy, I take it...?"

Clark kisses Bruce in lieu of a verbal answer, and then he kisses Bruce because he's there, and then he kisses Bruce just to do it. Eventually, this leads to Bruce rolling them over, standing, and pulling Clark up to his feet.

Which leads them to the shower, and tile floor and walls of the shower --

"Clark. Will you scream for me?"

"*Always* --"

And, in time, he does.

end.

Or...

*

"Who -- you."

He --

The boy --

Tom smiles, tilting his head back enough to bare his scarred throat, lifting his shirt to expose a configuration of scars more familiar than Lex would've thought they *could* ever be --

Lex has spent a lot of time in Bruce's bedroom surrounded by sketches --

And Tom tilts his head forward again and raises an eyebrow in question.

There is no question. "Stay."

"I can't --"

"Don't *say* that --"

"I didn't just destroy my own timeline, Lex. I changed every Tim who could've been born in the multiversal forks which came about through my... meddling --"

"How many?"

"Infinity is less a number than a concept, of course, but you get the idea."

Lex shakes his head and strokes the console restlessly. He hadn't even *done* anything --

The machine isn't booted *up* --

"How long *can* you stay?"

Tom smiles again and lifts a hand between them. It's...

It's not *pixilated*, of course, but it's also not entirely solid. It -- "I have your signature --"

"Yes. Judging by my encounters with other yous -- and Bruces, and Clarks, and Dicks, and Jasons, and Stephanies, and Barbaras, and Cassandras, and Helenas... well, it probably won't do you much good," Tom says, and his eyes are rueful. "I can't seem to stay very long in universes like this one. Others... well, in others I can stay exactly long enough to change things to this, or something like it. Lex... I miss you."

Lex gets up and --

It's more of a stagger than a walk, but it gets him *to* Tom, within range of whatever energy is making him stop *existing* in this space --

"Let me call the others --"

"Are they close?"

Lex winces. "Bruce is in the cave. Clark is -- I don't know."

Tom nods, sad but calm. "This was my universe once. I've kept track as best I could. It glows... reddish when I'm outside of space-time."

"I -- what the hell do you mean *outside*?"

Tom -- smirks. "That would be telling."

"So *help* me --"

"God? Clark? Someone else -- "

Lex growls and kisses him, and it feels exactly like kissing the other, other, other, *other* love of his life with said love not being entirely connected to this plane of existence. When Tom moans, it shivers something outside of Lex, something --

He can *see* things behind his closed eyes. He can see himself what looks to be his fifties, he can see Bruce dancing with a beautiful and familiar redhead --

Barbara *Gordon* --

He can see Tom and he can see Tim and he can see Jessica with an *Adam's* apple --

He can see Hope and Mercy doing terrible things --

He can see Lois kissing Clark in a church --

He can see Lois kissing *him* in a laboratory --

He can see Bruce in *that* alley too many damned times, and he can see a fright mask where Harvey used to be.

He can see *Tom*, and his hand is -- everywhere. Except how it isn't, because he hasn't *gotten* everywhere, yet. Not -- yet.

Lex cups Tom's face and tries to make the kiss deeper --

And has to jerk back when he feels himself sinking too far *in* --

Tom pants and laughs quietly. "That's probably for the best. Dr. Fate told me what he knew about the rules behind what I'd become, but he didn't have a single, solitary clue about what would happen if I were touching someone when... well."

"Surely someone has tried to hold you back before now."

"I'm faster than I used to be," Tom says, and shows his teeth again. "I'm going to try to come back here."

Lex -- fixes his breathing. "Do you think you'll manage?"

Tom shrugs and sheds color, life --

"*Tom* --"

"Where there's life, there's hope... and I'm still alive, if no longer entirely human," Tom says, and his voice is a whisper that seems to come from too many different places --

"*Damn* you --"

"Love you..."

"*Thank* you, you ass --"

And then Lex is being yanked toward what feels like a *vacuum* --

He trips over his own feet --

He stands and watches... nothing. The only sign of Tom's presence is a scorch mark on the floor and the settling of a few papers on the floor. He --

Lex clenches his hands into fists.

Breathes.

*Thinks* --

And then sits down and starts making notes. The fact that the first one is "strangle the life out of Dr. Fate" is potentially problematic, but every endeavor needs a first draft.

END.




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