30/30 Out-Take: Date 28
Disclaimers: The usual. DC Comics owns Jack and Sand.
Continuity note: Sarah said (re: Date 28): "Who suggested *this* date? Please reveal!!" And since it kinda sorta reminded me of something I was working on... And I talked to Hotspur and he said he didn't have anyone specific in mind... And because they're pretty....
Sand gnawed on his lower lip as his fingers hovered over the send key. He'd been very careful to make this request anonymous, creating a new email address and introducing the protocols necessary for posting on a meta board. Superman could still trace the IP address, but all it would show was that it came from JSA headquarters, not who had actually sent the email. He flexed his hand, curling his fingers into a fist.
He wasn't going to send it. It was too personal, too deep. Something that had woken him up one night, achingly hard, and wouldn't let him go until his mind had followed it through and his body right after. It was a fantasy, anyway, not a date, not really, and it wasn't something he would do himself, let alone suggest someone else undertake.
But J'onn wasn't him, and who knew what kinks Bruce Wayne might be hiding. It was just a suggestion, just something the sender- -the anonymous sender no less--would like to do. Nothing that had to be followed up. Sand squeezed his eyes closed and remembered Bruce Wayne--bigger than he looked in the press photos, broader across the shoulders and more chiseled--cradling the tiny body J'onn had formed for the occasion. If it was J'onn... his mind chimed in. Sand pushed the thought aside. It had to be J'onn. He and Jack had gone through the gossip rags and compiled a list of Bruce Wayne's activities of the last few weeks. Different women each appearance, and often several times a week. And what he wouldn't give to see beefy Bruce Wayne in leather. An almost undetectable shiver wound its way through his body and he thought about J'onn's range of female bodies and how they'd look wrapped around Bruce Wayne. Sand wasn't one to lust after celebrities, but knowing what he did made the entire scenario hot. He pictured Wayne thrusting into one lusty female body after another and wondered if his own silicon form would allow him to--No!
No, he wasn't going to send it. It was too voyeuristic and to be perfectly honest, it just hit a little too close to home for him. He flexed his hand again, drifting upward to the delete key, then back down again. No one would know...he would know....
"Yo! There you are!"
Sand jumped, his hand crashing down on the keyboard.
"Jack!" he exclaimed, blocking the computer screen with this body. "Don't scare me like that!"
"What are you doing?" Jack asked, trying to peer around his shoulder. "Looking at porn?"
"No," Sand protested with a scowl.
"Buying my birthday present?"
"Isn't that the same thing?"
Jack cackled delightedly. "I hope so. C'mon, what's got you so jumpy?"
Sand bit his lip and turned away cautiously. The computer screen proudly announced that his message had been sent.
"That's it? You're writing email?" Jack slid gracefully into Sand's seat and clicked in the web address box. "Over that...let's see how Big Blue's game's doing."
"No!" Sand exclaimed, leaning over Jack's chair and blocking the keyboard with his hands.
"No?" Jack raised an eyebrow and ran his eyes up Sand's arms to his face.
"I already checked it. Nothing new."
"Well, good," Jack said, leaning back and swiveling the chair to face Sand. "In that case, let's talk about some of my favorite dates."
Sand moved one hand to the back of the chair Jack sat in, and closed his eyes against the dizzying sensations Jack's hands were causing.
After all, Jack in leather was a pretty nifty image, too.