For Further Understanding

by Aya

TITLE: For Further Understanding (Subtitled "It's All 'rith's fault")
AUTHOR: Sarina Argus aka Aya
Pairing: Superman/Batman sort of
Summary: Takes place within the "Foreign Bodies" timeline. Batman uses this time to explore Kryptonian Physiology.
NOTES: If you haven't read the "Foreign Bodies" graphic novel, all you really need to know is a villian named Psykosis has transferred the consciousnesses (sheesh what a word) of the JLA into different bodies. For this story, I'm dealing with Batman in Superman's body. Also, 'rith sicced this and another bunny on me, both of which stem from this GN and our very naughty discussion about it. In other words, IT'S ALL HER FAULT!!!
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He knew he'd not get another chance like this as he entered the cave. And he didn't know how long he'd have. But as long as he did...

"Voice Recorder on."

The supercomputer sparked to life, filling the cave with a hum that resonated against the cool walls. "Identify Kal-El alias Clark Kent, Superman."

Bruce Wayne rarely felt the need to smile down here, so he felt odd when a crooked grin curled on his lips, or rather Kal's lips. Since Psykosis switched him into this body (along with the other leaguers), he found every action, every reaction a new and interesting experience. Superman smiled often; Batman, almost never. It was one of their main differences. He addressed the computer.

"Personal Archive. As a result of an encounter with the villain, Psykosis, I have found myself in the body of Kal-El, or Clark Kent, better known as Superman. While I'm sure he would have his reservations about this, Clark understands better than most what kind of opportunity this is for me and is most likely taking the same course of actions. If not, I hope he'll forgive me should he find out."

He activated the light bank in front of the camera lens, illuminating him from all sides. He then pressed a few buttons to sharpen the images streaming into the computer. Steeping back into the lights, he spoke again.

"In order to further understand Kryptonian physiology, I choose to examine Kal-El, last son of Krypton." He unfastened the red cape, then parted the neck of familiar blue and red bodysuit, pulling it apart and away from his upper torso, pushing the material down his chest to leave him bare from the waist up.

"As seen in the past, the musculature of Kal-El is extremely similar to that of human beings, which leads me to believe it is the density of the muscle itself that gives him his strength." With tentative fingers, he began to feel the soft tissue of Kal's chest. "His skin is surprisingly soft, and the muscles extend across the chest." He stopped suddenly as he saw the nipple harden under his fingertips and a shiver went through his chest. Clearing his throat, he continued. "He has extremely sensitive nerve endings, which react quickly to surface stimuli." Running his fingers over the pebbled flesh, another shiver fluttered through him. A harsh breath escaped his lips and he pulled his hand away quickly. "Very sensitive indeed." Gathering his composure, he cleared his throat. "This heightened nerve sensitivity could possibly explain his extraordinary hearing as well." Turning his attention back to the monitor, he studied the image before continuing.

"Moving to the abdomen and lower torso, the same musculature is present, although hardened from many years of work and experience. I tend to believe that, like humans, his superior muscle tone would not be possible without the dedication it takes to maintain it." His fingertips ghosted over the taut skin and another shudder ran through him. "The same sensitivity to stimuli here." He slowly began to trace the lines of Kal's abdomen, across his waist, dipping gently into his navel before following the soft line of hair that extended into the blue and red material bunched at his waist. And all the while, his eyes never left the monitor screen, as he watched his hands.

No, not his hands.

Kal's hands.

And Bruce found himself staring unabashed, his jaw beginning to go slack as his hands began to roam over the tan flesh and desire sparked underneath those rough fingertips. He'd always known about Clark Kent's boyish appeal to both men and women, and he was no stranger to lust, as hard as it was for the others to believe. And he's always been able to appreciate the beauty of the human form, but this...

He jerked his hands away from Kal's skin and grabbed onto the steel countertop as he fought off the wave of desire. Taking a deep breath, he stared hard at the slick metal, focusing on the rhythm of Kal's heartbeat.

It was wrong, voyeuristic. He was taking advantage of this body that wasn't even his. Clark was one of his closest friends, one of the few people he trusted implicitly. And that trust didn't come easily. In the beginning, they disapproved of each other. To him, Clark was too soft, too trusting for the world. Someone was bound to take advantage of him.

Like right now.

This was madness. He couldn't do this. Kal trusted him. And truth be told Bruce admired that about him. Admired that he could still find trust, hope, goodness in the sardonic, suspicious, paranoid man he'd become. Clark found a reason to care about Bruce. To love Bruce. And to make the clockwork man he'd become, the Dark Knight, love the Man of Steel. This had to stop.

And yet he knew he couldn't.

Kal was so damn beautiful. So human. And for these few moments, Bruce wanted to feel human too.

He raised one hand to his mouth and tasted the salt sweat of Kal's hand. Pressing soft lips to the palm, he gently nipped his flesh with white teeth, closing his eyes as the soft tingle began in his palm then radiated though his hand and lower still.

And Bruce wished these were truly his hands stroking Kal. Bringing him the pleasure he felt in this body.

His hands dipped lower, easing the red and blue cloth over his hips and bearing the rampant erection. Stripping away the last parts of the costume, he stood nude, the cave lights creating an almost ethereal halo around Kal's body. Bruce ran his hands over the taut thighs, tracing every line, stroking every dimple, then moving upward and back, running shaky fingers over the cleft of his buttocks. Another shiver raced through him and he bit his lip to keep from crying out. One hand he brought back up to his chest, stroking one nipple then the other. The other hand he gently wrapped around his shaft, and he stifled another whimper.

"Oh God..." he breathed as he began to stroke his hardened shaft, swirling his fingers around the crown before stroking inward to the base, then back again. And the pressure and pleasure began to build, he felt as if he was in flames.

"This is what if feels like," he rasped, "to love you..." His movements quickened and became more spastic, erratic. He raised his free hand to his mouth again and bit his knuckles, taking the pain, feeling it, using it as he watched the monitor screen through half closed eyes as Kal-El let his climax overtake him. As the last of the spasms shook through him, he staggered and let the warm semen fall onto his hand.

"Kal," he gasped, as he reached again for the countertop. Leaning heavily, he stared at the wet fingers before him then raised them to his lips. It was sweet and salt and sunlight and all the things he thought of when he pictured Kal. All the things he wanted, needed from him. And as he glanced once more at the monitor screen, he heard the cries in the distance. They needed him.

No, he corrected himself. Not him.


He donned the cape and flew into the night.



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