DVD commentary: S/B fic
Aug. 24th, 2006 09:44 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sylph_ficsMidnight Munchies and the Surprise at the Bottom of the Box (YAY, ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
coldfiredragon!!!! Thank you!)
Superman/Batman, formerfilly's JLU challenge.
Rating... um... adult-ish. More for implications than actual content, though.
requested bytmelange
I was talking to Filly, and somehow wound up signing up for this. Then I realized who I’d just agreed to write S/B fic for (*still in awe of Control* and nearly had a panic attack. [having had real ones, I say “nearly” for a reason.] Once I got over freaking out, I realized I was going to have to tell if from someone else’s point of view so as not to embarrass myself. It took a few minutes, but Wally eventually volunteered. He still hates himself for it. There were times I wished I’d picked one of the girls, but he was the better narrator overall, and I’m proud of myself for resisting the urge to swap narrators just so I could blather about the picture Clark and Bruce make. It was difficult, though.
Midnight Munchies and the Surprise at the Bottom of the Box
I have less than no ability with titles. Coldfiredragon is much beloved.
The Fastest Man Alive had a sudden case of the munchies. Now, normally that wouldn't be a problem--he could get to anywhere on Earth in a few moments, finding somewhere that was open to sell him Chocos, Zesti, and half a dozen bags of chips was, well, cake--but this wasn't the normal situation, and he wasn't on Earth. He was on the Watchtower, on monitor duty, and he wanted snack food. He'd raided the fridge and the cabinets already--everything left was clearly labeled with owner's names and he knew better than to swipe Diana or J'onn's stashes. They could make his life entirely too many varieties of hell if he took their chocolate... which left him trying to figure out what to do to distract himself from the food-food-food impulses of his stomach. He fidgeted, fingers tapping a blurring staccato against the arm of the chair. //man, I'm hungry, I wanna snack--I have waay too much time to think up here!//
Yes, blaming a speedster’s antics on their need for food is overdone, but it’s overdone because it works so very well. I needed him up and moving. And the thing about the other’s stashes- -I work with people. I know how they can get about their food.
Sitting still was apparently going to make him crazy (some would say crazier), so he hopped out of the chair and started doing laps of the multiple passageways of the Watchtower--but as he ran down one of the normally deserted passages, a flicker of colors in a should-be-empty room caught his eye, blue and red and black and gold.... //What the?// He slowed to a halt in the next corridor over and carefully walked back, making sure not to let a single noise escape his heels... He saw things perfectly clearly at super-speed, and if he'd seen what he thought he had--he most certainly did not want to be noticed. //They'd never find my body... swear to God, they'd never find my body...//
Wally is, of course, exaggerating. Bruce and Clark wouldn’t kill him. Clark would just wipe his mind of the memory.
Carefully, quietly, he peeked around the corner of the half-shut door--and his breath froze in his throat. //Oh. My. God...//
Poor, poor, traumatized Wally. *eg*
He could absolutely say he had never, ever, in a million years expected to see that. He pulled his head back away from the door and leaned against the wall, staring at the bulkhead in shock. //I... I did not just see...// Yet, the vivid image would not leave his mind.
The Big Guns of the League, their intellect and strength, the Dark Knight and the Man of Steel... were locked in a passionate, almost desperate embrace in the deserted room. The Bat pressed up against the wall by Superman's strong body, gauntlets dropped to the floor, pale, scarred hands tight in Clark's dark hair and gray-clad arms curled under Clark's to pull him tighter....
Nnngh*mewl*. Sorry, I’ll be in my bunk. Wally’s disturbed, but I think it’s impossibly hot. Yes, this was where I wished I had a female narrator--Wally doesn't think about other guys' bodies the way a woman might/would have. He's straight, so... yeah. That was challenging.
He couldn't believe it, but the image was burned into his mind like it was put there with Superman's heat vision. Red-clad hips pressed tight between spread gray-armored legs, one of Batman's calves hooked high around a red boot and obviously tightened (to pull him in more), both of them looking like their mouths were fused together and the rest of their bodies weren't far behind.... //I did not just think that!// Disturbed tone to his own thoughts--and the memory of blue-clad arms wrapped around Batman, one bare hand wrapped around the hard line of the back of the black cowl, the other invisible did not help. Then, he heard their voices...
Superman's voice, gone low and soft and hot and... something Wally couldn't even name, because the two concepts just did not go together, not Superman and lust, "God, I want you..." It almost sounded muffled, as if his mouth was pressed to something--//don't think about what!// Wally yelled at himself, knowing he ought to go, right now, before they heard him... but he stayed still. //I... what if something's happened? They just got back. Everyone jokes about "sex pollen" and that kind of stuff, but.. What if it's real? Should I do something?// "We never get enough time..."
Poor worried Wally. I think the boy hero-worships them both, just a little, and this about broke his brain. Of course his first reaction is to think something’s making them, because Clark’s the All-American Boy and Batman shouldn’t have a sex drive! *hushes Wally* Sorry, he’s faster than I am.
"I know..." He'd thought Superman's voice was bad? Batman's low, bass growl changed by desire and... something else... regret? Was that what regret sounded like on the Bat? The strange rustle of armor against spandex came from the half-closed door and Superman was talking again, over the noises that had to be them struggling with the suits... And he was not thinking about that!
"Need you, god I need you, 's been too long, please..."
//He just.. okay. Whatever. This is obviously not sex pollen or bad mojo, so move your ass out of this sector before they realize you're here!// a voice much smarter than the rest of him yelled from the back of his brain... and he should. He really, really should. He was going to have a bad enough time not turning funny colors in a few hours at the meeting without listening to more of this!
That realization startled the hell out of Wally. And he's never gonna be able to look them in the eyes again.
"Yes." ...God, was that Batman? It didn't even sound like him, "Oh, god Kal, don't stop..."
...That laugh... that smugly superior, masculine, hungry laugh surely hadn't come out of Superman's throat. It just couldn't have... but the low, darkly hungry voice that followed it was his, but dropped to a level Wally couldn't quite hear.. //He's whispering. To Batman. About what he's--oh God I am out of here!//
He took off, somehow managing silence until he was at the end of the corridor and went back to running laps--avoiding that hall like the plague-- munchies and everything else forgotten in the attempt to block out the thoughts of--//just stop!//
*chuckle* Poor, poor traumatized boy.
coldfiredragon!!!! Thank you!)Superman/Batman, for
merfilly's JLU challenge. Rating... um... adult-ish. More for implications than actual content, though.
requested by
tmelangeI was talking to Filly, and somehow wound up signing up for this. Then I realized who I’d just agreed to write S/B fic for (*still in awe of Control* and nearly had a panic attack. [having had real ones, I say “nearly” for a reason.] Once I got over freaking out, I realized I was going to have to tell if from someone else’s point of view so as not to embarrass myself. It took a few minutes, but Wally eventually volunteered. He still hates himself for it. There were times I wished I’d picked one of the girls, but he was the better narrator overall, and I’m proud of myself for resisting the urge to swap narrators just so I could blather about the picture Clark and Bruce make. It was difficult, though.
Midnight Munchies and the Surprise at the Bottom of the Box
I have less than no ability with titles. Coldfiredragon is much beloved.
The Fastest Man Alive had a sudden case of the munchies. Now, normally that wouldn't be a problem--he could get to anywhere on Earth in a few moments, finding somewhere that was open to sell him Chocos, Zesti, and half a dozen bags of chips was, well, cake--but this wasn't the normal situation, and he wasn't on Earth. He was on the Watchtower, on monitor duty, and he wanted snack food. He'd raided the fridge and the cabinets already--everything left was clearly labeled with owner's names and he knew better than to swipe Diana or J'onn's stashes. They could make his life entirely too many varieties of hell if he took their chocolate... which left him trying to figure out what to do to distract himself from the food-food-food impulses of his stomach. He fidgeted, fingers tapping a blurring staccato against the arm of the chair. //man, I'm hungry, I wanna snack--I have waay too much time to think up here!//
Yes, blaming a speedster’s antics on their need for food is overdone, but it’s overdone because it works so very well. I needed him up and moving. And the thing about the other’s stashes- -I work with people. I know how they can get about their food.
Sitting still was apparently going to make him crazy (some would say crazier), so he hopped out of the chair and started doing laps of the multiple passageways of the Watchtower--but as he ran down one of the normally deserted passages, a flicker of colors in a should-be-empty room caught his eye, blue and red and black and gold.... //What the?// He slowed to a halt in the next corridor over and carefully walked back, making sure not to let a single noise escape his heels... He saw things perfectly clearly at super-speed, and if he'd seen what he thought he had--he most certainly did not want to be noticed. //They'd never find my body... swear to God, they'd never find my body...//
Wally is, of course, exaggerating. Bruce and Clark wouldn’t kill him. Clark would just wipe his mind of the memory.
Carefully, quietly, he peeked around the corner of the half-shut door--and his breath froze in his throat. //Oh. My. God...//
Poor, poor, traumatized Wally. *eg*
He could absolutely say he had never, ever, in a million years expected to see that. He pulled his head back away from the door and leaned against the wall, staring at the bulkhead in shock. //I... I did not just see...// Yet, the vivid image would not leave his mind.
The Big Guns of the League, their intellect and strength, the Dark Knight and the Man of Steel... were locked in a passionate, almost desperate embrace in the deserted room. The Bat pressed up against the wall by Superman's strong body, gauntlets dropped to the floor, pale, scarred hands tight in Clark's dark hair and gray-clad arms curled under Clark's to pull him tighter....
Nnngh*mewl*. Sorry, I’ll be in my bunk. Wally’s disturbed, but I think it’s impossibly hot. Yes, this was where I wished I had a female narrator--Wally doesn't think about other guys' bodies the way a woman might/would have. He's straight, so... yeah. That was challenging.
He couldn't believe it, but the image was burned into his mind like it was put there with Superman's heat vision. Red-clad hips pressed tight between spread gray-armored legs, one of Batman's calves hooked high around a red boot and obviously tightened (to pull him in more), both of them looking like their mouths were fused together and the rest of their bodies weren't far behind.... //I did not just think that!// Disturbed tone to his own thoughts--and the memory of blue-clad arms wrapped around Batman, one bare hand wrapped around the hard line of the back of the black cowl, the other invisible did not help. Then, he heard their voices...
Superman's voice, gone low and soft and hot and... something Wally couldn't even name, because the two concepts just did not go together, not Superman and lust, "God, I want you..." It almost sounded muffled, as if his mouth was pressed to something--//don't think about what!// Wally yelled at himself, knowing he ought to go, right now, before they heard him... but he stayed still. //I... what if something's happened? They just got back. Everyone jokes about "sex pollen" and that kind of stuff, but.. What if it's real? Should I do something?// "We never get enough time..."
Poor worried Wally. I think the boy hero-worships them both, just a little, and this about broke his brain. Of course his first reaction is to think something’s making them, because Clark’s the All-American Boy and Batman shouldn’t have a sex drive! *hushes Wally* Sorry, he’s faster than I am.
"I know..." He'd thought Superman's voice was bad? Batman's low, bass growl changed by desire and... something else... regret? Was that what regret sounded like on the Bat? The strange rustle of armor against spandex came from the half-closed door and Superman was talking again, over the noises that had to be them struggling with the suits... And he was not thinking about that!
"Need you, god I need you, 's been too long, please..."
//He just.. okay. Whatever. This is obviously not sex pollen or bad mojo, so move your ass out of this sector before they realize you're here!// a voice much smarter than the rest of him yelled from the back of his brain... and he should. He really, really should. He was going to have a bad enough time not turning funny colors in a few hours at the meeting without listening to more of this!
That realization startled the hell out of Wally. And he's never gonna be able to look them in the eyes again.
"Yes." ...God, was that Batman? It didn't even sound like him, "Oh, god Kal, don't stop..."
...That laugh... that smugly superior, masculine, hungry laugh surely hadn't come out of Superman's throat. It just couldn't have... but the low, darkly hungry voice that followed it was his, but dropped to a level Wally couldn't quite hear.. //He's whispering. To Batman. About what he's--oh God I am out of here!//
He took off, somehow managing silence until he was at the end of the corridor and went back to running laps--avoiding that hall like the plague-- munchies and everything else forgotten in the attempt to block out the thoughts of--//just stop!//
*chuckle* Poor, poor traumatized boy.
