Chapter Text
Clark's phone went off and he peered down from his computer. *Prettier than usual today* There was no contact listed.
*Wrong number.*
*Not the handsome reporter at the daily planet? Air conditioner must be broken, got a few loose buttons.* Clark glanced around for peering eyes, not just from the building. He scoured the tri-state area, nothing.
*Who is this?*
*Someone who'd reward you to see more.*
*No name but you want a dic pic? Bold.* Maybe not a wrong number, possibly a prank.
*Wouldn't say no.* There was a pause for some typing. *Would settle for a few more buttons.* Clark . . . Should not engage. This was a bad idea . . . It was a terrible idea. This was . . . Stupid.
It was hot though . . . What would one or two more buttons hurt terribly? Steve the sport's writer had taken off his polo, walking around solely in his undershirt. If that didn't get H.R down here nothing would.
Clark undid two more buttons and then stared at his phone . . . Minutes passed. Was someone yanking his chain? Was Jimmy giggling from behind some corner? Clark gave an annoyed huff and just as he started to care about the Metropolis zoning board again his phone buzzed.
*Thank you. Though I was hoping you'd go somewhere more private, let me see if you're sweating* Another pause, Clark was glued to those blinking little ellipses. *What's your favorite color?* This was getting . . . Weird.
*Want to get something pretty for you, something you'd like to wear for me.* Just because he undid two buttons? What would he get if he undid more? Clark shook the blush from his cheeks.
*Blue.*
*Will you?*
*What?*
*Wear what I give you?*
*I don't like this game.* Clark lied. Clark was a liar. He was a liar who was half hard.
*Don't have to play.* Clark didn't get any more texts while at work. Hot as he was he did his buttons all the way up to his Adam's apple.
After work he stopped at his apartment, couldn't linger, had a leauge meeting. He had been late by three minutes last week and Batman had gone on for thirty as to accountability and punctuality. Though something slowed Clark's roll. There was a box outside his apartment.
'Something pretty?' He smiled when he should have been alarmed. The door wasn't fully closed behind him before he was ripping the box to shreds. Not one but three pairs of. . . Clark didn't even know they made lace boxers but they must've. He held them carefully in his hands one blue, one red, one black, all practicaly if not definitely see through.
His phone buzzed. *Don't have to play. Still earned them.*
*Why 3?*
*Couldn't decide. So I didn't. You'll look good in all of them.* That was it, no more texts.
Clark was behind schedule but he had to change out of his work clothes anyway. What was the extra second to figure out if the lace felt as soft against his skin as it looked? It did. It most certainly did.
The meeting was long, was . . . Thankfully uneventful. Just rehashing old problems. Some flaring of egos over territories and tactics but nothing really of note. That made Clark feel less guilty that he only had one ear on the proceedings, the other was on his phone which was also . . . Uneventful, not a single vibration. Maybe his new friend was asleep, or talking to someone more attentive.
Clark was . . . Craving more contact. Was that sad? Stupid? Probably, he did forgot about it until he shifted in his chair and lace ran up his length, reminding him stupid could still feel good.
He was going to head home when someone called out. "Superman." It was Batman, of course it was Batman, likely ready to lecture him into a puddle about something. Would nothing the man of steel did be enough? He'd love to be enough just once.
"Yes?"
"You seemed distracted today. That's not like you. Sets a bad example, also not like you. Is everything alright?"
"Don't laugh."
"I've met my quota for the year." The bat stated assuredly but not comforting.
"I uh . . . Someone has been . . . Watching me."
"You feel threatened?" Did that sound like concern or intrigue . . . Jealousy perhaps? It was so hard to tell with Batman.
"Not . . . Exactly it's been . . . Sexual in nature."
"You feel harassed?" Not Jealousy, Clark had it narrowed down to concern or intrigue.
"Not . . . I don't know who it is. Why they're singling . . . Clark Kent out. He's nobody."
"Superman your muscles have muscles and that's as far as I'll puff your ego."
"Yes but . . . People have muscles . . . Nothing special about that, about Clark Kent as an individual." Clark felt there was plenty special about Superman but he'd gone out of his way to make Clark Kent meek, unassuming, forgettable, alone in a far more mundane way.
'Was just interested in how I looked. Maybe they did just want a calender shoot.' It kind of took some of the fun out of it, Clark frowned. 'It's not fun. I shouldn't have found it fun. This was a bad idea. Telling Batman was the only worse idea.' His cheeks got red.
"Have they made you do anything that has been . . . Compromising?" It would be pointless to lie, would just send the detective sticking his nose where Clark assuredly did not want it.
"They uh . . . Sent me underwear."
"And you put it on?"
"Yes."
"Does it . . . Chafe?"
"What?"
"You look physically uncomfortable. I was asking if it was chafing against your suit."
"I look uncomfortable because explaining this to you is embarrassing."
"So . . ."
"No it does not chafe!" There was a few long beats of awkward silence.
"You don't have to feel uncomfortable around me. I don't judge."
"All you do is judge . . ." He watched those cape draped shoulders rise a bit defensive at the push back.'He's trying to help don't be a dick.' Clark let out a sigh calming down, he was just on edge. As a man who flew, dangling on the edge of anything was a bizarre feeling.
"Provide me with the number and I'll look into it. The more activity I can trace the faster I'll find them. Only speak to your comfort level. I'm not asking you to bait them with promises of grandure."
"You mean Don't agree to meet them blindfolded in a dark ally?"
"Unless you want." Is what Batman said. "See how not judgmental I am? I'm hip I'm cool." That's what Clark heard and his brow rose unconvinced.
"Just string them along a bit? Maybe they'll slip up and you'll figure it out before I do."
"Alright." Clark could play along in the name of . . . Justice? Sleuthing? Figuring out who was looking at him like a tall glass of water?
"Don't-"
"I will keep this between us. I don't forsee this becoming something the two of us can't handle. Superman?"
"Yes?"
"We won't let this interfere with leauge business?"
"Aye Aye Capitan!"
Clark raced home, undressed except for that 'gift', staring down at the phone he'd placed in front of him on the bed. He hadn't gotten a text in hours . . . Was he so starved for attention that he was missing a stalker?
'String him along.' Batman had all but put a winged stamp of approval on reaching out. It wasn't pathetic it was practical. *I Put it on.* Part of Clark weirdly worried he'd not played along sooner. Maybe they had lost interest, moved on to another mound of muscles. He'd never know where to send the thank you card.
*The blue one?*
*Yes*
*Do you like them? How they feel?*
*They're very nice.* He didn't say that while they didn't chafe, they were snug, he did feel them, the intricate pattern did run pleasantly cross his skin.
*May I see you in them?*
*Who are you?* Clark tried again, there was no harm in trying.
*Someone who's been thinking about your ass in panties I gave you all day.* Clark rolled his eyes though he didn't know what other answer he was expecting.
'Speak to your comfort level.' Was Clark comfortable sending pictures of his quite visable dick to a stranger? No. Did he want this to keep going? Yes.
*Trade?*
*You first.* Clark again peered out, there was nothing as blatant as someone across the street with binoculars.
'Do they want to see the front or the back?' Clark only then realized he didn't know if this was a man or a woman. What bits of him interested them? 'They sent my three pairs . . . Could send them two pictures.' The math added up in his head, after a few moments at finding angles he thought looked . . . As serviceable as it was going to get, he hit send.
*Perfect as I thought. Would love to watch you dirty them for me.* Clark swallowed hard as he felt his dick twitch. *Want to bite into your skin, see my teeth marks all over you.* Clark couldn't claim this was investigation much longer. He was getting quickly invested in the game again.
*Your turn?* He couldn't respond filthy. Batman was going to be leafing through these. He would be judging.
Batman would surely have an opinion on the full frontal dic pic that seemed to just be Clark's phone now and forever. *Should have warned you. Don't wear underwear on my days off* One mystery solved, it was a man, a well hung man.
*Still playing?* Clark was staring, he couldn't stop just . . . Imagining what it would feel like. He wanted to play.
*Yes.* No filth, yes Batman would see him in lengire but it's not as if Superman's suit left all too much to the imagination. Batman had eyes but he was no telepath, couldn't hear Clark's inner slut.
*Would you want to show me how much you like it? Can I watch you enjoy my gifts?* A video call was coming in. Was Clark going to get to finally see that this wasn't just a penis with thumbs. He didn't think it through, he accepted the call. He saw his face in the lower corner but the predominant amount of his screen was . . . Black.
Clark's dry throat eventually cracked out a greeting "Hello?" Maybe this person didn't understand how video chats went.
"No need to blush." It should have sounded sweet . . . It sounded robotic, like the A.I your phone has, because that's what it was, some speech converting mechanic.
"I-" Clark hung up, flipped the phone screen side down, his heart pounding. 'Bad idea, very bad idea.' He scrambled to the bathroom and splashed water on his face.
He sat on his toilet for about ten minutes, took off the panties, pulled on a shirt and some sweatpants, feeling slightly more dignified on his return to his bed. He hesitantly turned his phone over, for some reason expecting to see a face laughing at him.
There was one missed video call, a missed phone call and three texts. *I'm sorry* Was the first. *I didn't mean to upset you.* Was the second. *Don't have to play. Just let me know you're alright.* Was the third.
Clark shouldn't reply, he'd just start thinking with his cock again, get in trouble. This was some sort of trap. *OK* That was safe, that was enough, just in case the man was genuinely concerned.
*Why did you go and hide that pretty face of yours? You don't have to feel embarrassed* Leave it alone, go to sleep, that was the reasonable response.
*Don't know you.* The man had no response to that and Clark got a bit angry. *Pretty face could be all over the internet. People laughing at me.*
*I'm sorry you think I would be so mean. All I wanted was to see you happy.* How was Clark meant to believe that? *Do you want me to leave you alone? I will, I don't want to upset you.*
*Who are you?* If Clark had that, had anything, he could maybe get back in the game.
*A coward.* Was the reply. *Who wants to make you happy. Wants to watch you cum just once?* Was a hell of a follow up.
*If I let you . . . What do I get?*
*Other than a good night's sleep?*
*Yes something to convince me I'm safe.*
*Sending something.* What was he sending it by pony express? Clark hadn't gotten anything but cop outs at this point. *Do not open it unless you feel I've betrayed your trust. Promise?* Promises meant a lot to Clark, he thought on it for a second. It could be nothing, another shadow, could be a rickroll link if he got dated about it.
There was another flurry of three texts. *I won't hurt you.* Then: *Please let me have this.* Followed up by: *I want you Clark* Then man had sent this mystery file without ever getting Clark's word.
Clark wet his lips and made a video call, he was greeted by darkness all over again. "Hello?"
"In lounge wear and still so gorgeous. Not everyone could pull that off." It would take some adjusting to but if he tuned out the robotic pitchy overtones he could pretend he was really . . . Hearing those words coming out of human lips.
"What do you want from me?"
"I want everything from you but first I'd like you to lie down for me." Clark slowly acquiesced, he wasn't calm, wasn't comfortable but he was horizontal.
"Perfect." Yes he'd gotten perfect tens for laying down.
"Now?"
"No need to rush. This is my night off you know?"
"Yeah you said that" Clark didn't know anything, not really. He was talking to a ghost.
"Want to spend it with you." Clark was getting better at placing the human cadence where there wasn't any. His mind was mixing what he wanted and what was reality.
"You look tense. If I was there, I'd relax you, work every kink out of your muscles, take as long as I need, maybe longer, just till you were putty in my fingers."
'Superman your muscles have muscles and that's as far as I'll puff your ego.' Clark's face pinched at the memory of Batman's jab.
"What was that face for? Don't like being touched? Understandable, valid, you shouldn't-"
"That's not it." This man was not calling to hear his work woes.
"Take your shirt off for me and tell me what it is? I only want to make you happy, won't do anything you wouldn't love."
Clark was already in stupid deep, he didn't grouse and gripe over losing his shirt, it was gone, those muscles on muscles out on display. "Do you not like the way you look? You're beautiful, perfect."
"Sure." Clark didn't know how he was feeling about all these glowing terms, they seemed hollow, seemed for show, just like these muscles on muscles.
"Not sure. Feel yourself for me, feel how strong and sturdy you are, not sure, not whatever, sublime." Did this man bring a thesaurus with him? Yet Clark obliged skimmed a palm over his pec gave an appropriating squeeze.
"Like that?"
"Little harder?" Clark did so, he was thinking before acting less and less.
"Dig in as deep as you want love." Clark's nails sank at that word, he groaned slightly. "Liked that didn't you? Hmm? Perfect, I'll figure out every term that leads to touches."
"Don't hmm. Sounds weird but . . . Say it again?" Clark hurried out before regretting it.
"Do you mind doing something for me first? Your nipple can you give it some attention love?" It was an inward crashing request, he'd given Clark what he wanted, there was no need for the action yet Clark was already listening rolling and twisting the bundle of nerves between fingers.
"There you go. Relaxing for me? Feeling better?"
"Yes."
"Let your hand move lower but please, I did ask what made that face curdle, I'm still curious."
"Not just muscles. I mean am . . ." Clark stopped at his abdomen, scrapped his nails against the steel beneath.
"It's what you want right?" Clark had forgotten about the camera, he hastily tilted it to give them man the show he wanted.
"I said I wanted to watch you cum, put me back up to those big blue eyes of yours? Rest of the night that's all I want to see, your face."
"My face." There was some clumsy fumbling but he got his mug back into the picture. He'd been watched all day but he felt fuly bored into now.
"What. . . What now?"
"Suppose you didn't bring any toys to bed with you."
"Don't . . . Do toys . . . Can't." Clark tried not to pull a face, tried to stay pretty but he thought to his attempts at toys . . . Silicone stood no chance against Kryptonian grip strength. He would lose care about being careful. He would break them.
"You can love. I'll find you something I promise." Clark gave a unconvinced, yet all the while needy whine. "Yeah? That's what you want. You can have it love, something to feel full of, something to hit all the best parts of you, something to ride and clench down on."
"Fuck." Clark didn't ask for direction he just boxed his hand back. He hissed because while being super, being steel, it still would have been a bit smoother with some sort of slick.
"Oh babe, you haven't had anyone take care of you in a while have you? Been good to you? Pampered you? Forgo the basics even when we've got all the time?"
"No need, just get to it." Clark growled as he worked past the original burn to get to the brighter bit, the pleasure that hid under the burn.
"No need but wouldn't it be nice? Someone taking their time with you? Slow tender, maybe working you open with their tounge?"
"Please. Would you Br-" Clark couldn't close his mouth fast enough, his eyes that had closed opened in a fright. "Fucking . . . I'm sorry, I'm. . . I didn't-"
"I'll be whoever you want me to be. Tell me who I am, who you're thinking about."
"Don't . . . Don't want to. They wouldn't . . . Let me think about them this way."
"I'll let you. I'll let you do anything babe. Anything you want, anything you can think to ask for will be yours. Ask for me, go on, have your fantasy, I want to be them trust me I do, you have no idea."
"B . . . Bruce . . ."
"No Bruce at the daily planet, which Bruce, friend from-"
"Bruce Wayne." There was a pause and for a moment Clark cringed waiting for the laugh he'd been dreading earlier. If Batman listened to this later he could say it was a lie, meant to protect someone else entirely. It wasn't a lie it was the bare honest truth.
"Oh. Who doesn't want to be Bruce Wayne. Celebrity crush?"
"Something like that."
"Does this help?" Clark did audibly laugh when he opened his eyes, the darkness had been replaced with a photo of Bruce from some Forbes article on the man.
"Not . . . Really. Apreciate the effort."
"Better?" The image changed again.
It was Bruce good and sauced at some party. Clark thumbed his screen and stared at it for a second then frowned. "I apologize I don't have any nudes. He's one of those pesky private socialites."
"Yeah." That was the problem, this picture was of a carefree drunk fit to lift a lady's skirt and buy an apology. That wasn't Bruce Wayne, that was a mask, all that was missing was a set of bat ears. Clark had only seen Bruce Wayne maybe a handful of times. He worked with Batman. He'd interviewed the man the rag mags called Brucie. He met Bruce Wayne four maybe five times and like an idiot he fell in love.
"No more slide show? Please?" Clark shut his eyes, this moment of reflection was taking him out of the moment at hand.
"Gone. Focus back on you. That's what's important. Go on and stroke yourself. I'd love to watch, love to learn just the right twists and turns that have your toes curl but that will wait for next time."
"Thought . . . Just once." Clark did stop fingering himself, took himself in hand.
"You can stop playing whenever you want love. Can keep playing as long as you're happy."
"Happy B." Clark put more mirth, more muscle into his strokes and rolls.
"Easy babe, take your time. Do your lovers rush you?"
"Lovers." Clark snorted at the pageantry of the word. "Busy . . . Get picked up at the bar some times, no fuss, no muss, done." Would it make his parents proud? No. Did it keep him from turning as blue as his suit Yes. He didn't have time for lovers, for attachment, for courtships, he had time for quickies.
"Not good enough. You shouldn't let them touch you, let alone have you."
"Keep that in mind." Clark wouldn't, he'd get himself fucked on Thursday just as he always did. What was it this stranger's business who he fucked and how?
"I'd fuck you slow the first time, want it to be perfect for you, want to hear you moan into my pillows. Want to figure out just what makes you tick." That sounded nice, downright decadent, last time Clark had sex it was in a bathroom stall.
"I emph, I want to cum. Want it."
"Open your eyes babe, let me see them roll, let me hear you say my name. Let me have this."
"Oh gosh-" Laughs did not translate well over robotics but Clark ignored it no he enjoyed it. He'd been fearing a laugh all day but this choppy anamatronic parody of it made this moment feel . . .intimate, like this person found Clark as a person amusing, not just a gullible sex doll. Clark would have laughed too but he was busy, he was groaning, his mouth hanging loose as he came. "Fuck, Bruce!"
"Perfect."
Clark let his pulse steady, let his mouth close, then shut his eyes, hard, let them stay shut. "Babe?"
"Gonna . . . Got enough for tonight?"
"I . . . If you're done I'm done."
"Did you . . . Was it . . ." Clark was suddenly feeling embarrassed all over again. "Was it enough?"
"Enough for what? Told you it was perfect."
"Was it enough for you? Just . . . Say it was enough for you . . . Please?" There was a bit of anguish that even Clark couldn't place behind those words.
"I . . . Yes. It was enough for me, exceeded all my expectations. Don't worry about that. Tell me goodnight and go to bed babe." Yet Clark did neither of those things.
"When's your next day off?" Clark was cleaning himself off.
"I . . . Don't . . . get many."
"Oh." So it was a lie, Clark wasn't enough and this man was just a bit more sensitive in his delivery than most. "No problem." Clark had to start looking at this as if it was simply a nice bar fuck, he'd been swept up in all the pandering words.
"Have a good-" Clark's finger was over the end button.
"Don't hang up on me again!" Was the man mad?
"Sorry. Figured it's . . . " Clark had served his purpose and this night while having a bang was ending with a whimper.
"Did I say something to upset you again? I want you to continue playing. Tell me what's wrong and I'll fix it."
"No." Clark collected his thoughts, jammed his feelings deep in his chest where they belonged.
"Let me start over. Thanks. Was the most fun I've had in a while. Weird but good."
"Can see that. Do you even own lube?"
"Umm. . . . Does lube expire?" He was sure he had it somewhere, off with bandaids he also kept for novelties sake.
"If you have to ask throw it out babe."
"Stop calling me that. . . Please." It hadn't nagged during but it was staring to grate on Clark's ears.
"Alr . . . Why?"
"Makes it sound like we're dating, was a one time thing. Not your babe, just a cam girl, a happy cam girl." Clark yawned, not upset, one good night was still . . . One good night. He was not ungrateful.
"I said I don't get many days off. I can't spend all my nights like this . . . I will find time for you . . ." The man wanted to say babe but didn't. "Do you still want to play?"
'Stringing him along right?' Clark still needed that flimsy excuse for his pride. "Yes."
"I'm happy to hear it. You did so well for me . . . Clark. Will get you a new reward."
"Is it lube?"
"A new reward and lube, that is a necessity not an nicetie. Don't call yourself a cam girl again, I. . . Want to pretend it's real?" That was reassuring the man wasn't insane. He didn't think he was actually dating Clark, this wasn't real, just fun.
'Real fun.' Clark smiled, deciding he was being far too cynical.
"Something you want me to call you? Something . . . Nice? Want to be babe? Love? Hun?" There was a long pause the man had a name in mind but he was good at hiding, that had been clear from the beginning.
"So long as you keep playing you can call me whatever you want. I'll be anyone for you. When Bruce isn't fun, pick another, whatever makes you happy."
"Show me . . . Something? Doesn't gotta be your face . . . Maybe . . . Can I see a hand? Want to pretend you're real?" There was a long . . . Loud amount of shuffling and arranging, Clark was thoroughly amused, propped his cheek into his palm as he waited.
Then a small little light, a desk lamp if Clark had to guess, everything else was still just black just dark. Clark squinted and eventually, all that effort all that fanfare, for a wave. "Hey there handsome." Clark waved back even though he was sure he couldn't be seen.
For half a second Clark thought he knew that hand but then he tossed out that idea . . . It was a hand, it look like a hand, there were five fingers some scars round the tips, likely a man who worked with his hands. There was a palm, it was wide, looked worn into, looked like it could hold Clark's cock wonderfully. It was a large hand but Clark could have inferred that from the earlier picture he was sent.
"Real." The disembodied voice sounded far away now.
"Thank you B."
"I . . . Like that, B."
"Perfect." Clark yawned again, glad he found something this selfless shadow enjoyed.
"Get some rest. I'll see you later."
"I'm sure." Clark paused. "Goodnight." He finally hung up.
Clark was a bit disappointed that his phone had no new messages when he woke up but he was greated at the door with another box. He opened what he could only describe as a candy box assortment of lube and a note. 'Be liberal, find your favorite. To be continued.'
Clark pondered as he brushed his teeth if this stranger just had . . . Loose trial sizes of lube for just such a stalking or if he made quite the attention grabbing trip to Costco. As he went to get dressed he opted for the red panties this time.