Title: From William S. Burroughs' The Naked Lunch: "The face of total 'evil' is always the face of total need."

Author's Note: Written for Te, who is inspiring and very, very patient with me. Also written for Jack, who reminded me how good a butt-kicking can feel.

Acknowledgments: Special thanks to thdancingferret for the beta and feedback. I love people who give me exactly what I ask for.

Feedback makes it hurt less.

**

It's been a long time. That's all.

A *really* long time, and Superman is pretty sure that if he hadn't spent the last few months trying to avert the end of the world so often it's felt almost constant, he wouldn't be looking at Flash's ass quite *that* way.

But it's been a long time.

A superhero not having a social life is pretty normal, he reasons. Having trouble remembering his name is slightly more unnerving.

He'd started calling himself 'Superman' in his head. He suspects--no, he *knows* it's just from overwork. And then he wonders what name the Other Superman called himself in his head, and doesn't like where that train of thought leads. He wonders if a simple name change in his mind from 'Clark' to 'Superman' was what made him possible, made him capable of... anything.

He's careful in his own thoughts now, notes when he calls himself 'Superman' versus 'Clark', and thinks it would be a good idea to put on his glasses and a pair of jeans and go to a movie. Do something ordinary. Human. Remind himself that, whatever else he might be, he *is* Clark Kent.

He's not like the Other One. Because he saved Flash, and the Other One wouldn't have.

Though Flash hasn't seemed too disturbed by that fact. Flash jokes and chats and sits so *openly*, like nobody ever tried to kill him on a regular basis and certainly never *Superman*.

Well, *a* Superman.

Superman sighs. Being him gets confusing.

It can stop being that way any time, he tells the Universe. The Universe, as usual, declines comment.

It's a quiet flight home on the Javelin, and Flash sits with his arms spread wide across the back of his seat, casual slouch with his patented cocky we-kicked-ass-we-are-unbearably-cool grin plastered on his face. Flash's ankle crosses his knee and Superman's gaze falls *there*.

He averts his gaze just as fast and blushes hard and concentrates on how Batman is navigating the Javelin back into dock, and exactly when did docking an arrow-shaped spaceship become so suggestive?

Superman spends the next few days avoiding him. All that openness and honesty and it would be so easy just to take advantage of that, and would Flash let him if he asked?

He tries to distract himself by running every training simulation Batman has programmed. Focuses so hard he doesn’t notice much else until Hawkgirl starts looking at him in the I'm-Worried, We-Should-Smash way so he excuses himself quickly and hits the showers.

Showering doesn't help, even with the setting as cold as he likes it. Water trickles down his body, just making him more *aware* of his muscles moving beneath skin. Which makes him think of how Flash's body moves beneath the red suit, wiry muscles in those strong, strong legs, curves and hard lines trailing up...

He goes back to his rooms. He has time to jerk off twice before the alarm sounds again.

***

The package is mostly concealed in his cape when he lands on the Watchtower. He'd been embarrassed when he ordered it, he admits that to himself. But he's a grown man, he reasons, and he feels just as silly about being embarrassed as he does about ordering it in the first place.

He wanted to do something to make him feel human, maybe even calm him down a little. This was normal. This was fine. Healthy, even.

He thinks he should have left it at his apartment. Then again...he tries to remember when he'd actually *been* to his apartment lately.

He could speed to his room. But he knows that Batman is on board and probably hovering near the monitors, and he doesn't want to risk being caught.

Caught. God, what is he, five?

Tries straightening his shoulders and looking slightly less guilty until Lantern turns the corner and nearly runs into him. John has a toolbox in one hand and a welder's torch in the other.

"I just got back. Everything all right?" His voice sounds almost normal.

"For the moment. Diana and Shayera demolished the training simulator again. I figured Batman shouldn’t have to do *all* the repair work around here." John's eyes land on the package that's peeking from under Superman's cape. Superman carefully keeps his face neutral.

"Anything important?" John looks at the box. His voice is equally neutral.

"Just... something from home." He knows the instant John has seen the return address.

The man's face never changes. Not once. "I’ll leave you two alone." Walks right past him and doesn't actually *see* his face change color.

Bastard.

He speeds the rest of the way to his room.

Opens the box with slightly less care than usual. Takes out the vibrator, inserts the batteries, then looks at it with a little hesitation. Maybe he should have picked a more realistic one. It's short and bright red plastic with a crook towards the end, "designed for ultimate prostate stimulation."

Uh-huh.

Feels his cock twitch in his uniform. Takes a deep breath, and he rummages through the box for the lubricant.

Clark hears Flash a split second before the younger man bursts through the door and barely has time to shove the vibrator back in the box.

"Hey, big guy! GL said you brought a box up. *Please* tell me it's something chocolate-based." Blur, and the box is *gone* from his hands. Packing peanuts drift through the air.

"Flash, don't--"

"Diana cleaned all the junk food out of the kitchen again and there's no sugar to be found *anywhere* and I'm *staaaaarving*—"

Flash pulls out the red plastic shaft. Gets that quizzical look, the cocked eyebrow and mouth twist. The same one he got when Batman added the Dalek-looking, authentic Italian cappuccino machine to the kitchen.

A light dawns. "Ohhhhh."

Superman fights the blush that threatens to spread from his ears all the way down. He also tries not to think about the word "down."

"That's a relief," Flash says, finally. "We were... well, the others were starting to worry about you."

Very slowly, Superman forces his head up to look at the man.

Flash looks remarkably... casual. "Hey, it's no big deal. This superhero thing is hell on a guy’s social life. It's just, you've been on duty a lot lately and Bats thought something about you was *off* and that just makes him even more broody. Like we need that. And with the things that happened with the other Superman, some of the guys were wondering if, y'know..."

"If I was turning into *him*."

"No! Well, yeah. A little. But you're not! You're just. Horny. Which is good. Much better than turning evil and taking over the world." Flash's smile is positively perky.

"Yes. Much." Superman looks grimly at his boots. He tries to think of ways to end this conversation that won't involve him talking or finding new and inventive ways to embarrass himself.

"Hey."

Superman doesn't look up. He feels Flash come closer more than sees it, feels the heat and the low-level hum the man's body makes in the air.

Flash rests a hand on his shoulder. "You said it yourself: you face the temptations of your powers every day. But you don't give in. That *proves* you're different. You're a much stronger man than he ever could be."

Flash tosses the toy back into the box, puts his hands on either side of Superman’s hips. Leans in close enough for Superman to *feel* the warmth radiating from his skin. "I wouldn't be here if you were like him."

The kiss is exactly as soft and firm as he would expect it to be. It still takes him a minute to register what's happening. Flash is here, and warm, and yes, *licking* his mouth and that should be all the encouragement required to just *haul* the smaller man into his lap and take what he needs.

Instead, he pulls away. "Flash... what are you doing?"

"It's not obvious?" He frowns. "Hm. I must be doing it wrong."

"Flash..."

Flash puts a red finger on Superman's lips. "I'm doing this for lots of reasons. But mostly because I want to." He leans in and mouths the side of Superman's neck wetly. "You're a big boy. If you want me to stop--" Brief sucking kiss. "--just say so."

Flash's mouth on his skin sends a jolt straight to his cock. Sends him right through "want" into "gotta come now" and he manages to clench his hands into fists before wrenching away.

Flash's skin is flushed below the mask. Lips parted and panting a little. "What now?"

Superman realizes he's breathless too. Wonders how that happened. "It’s too... I might hurt you." Looks at the balled fists in his lap.

Flash just smiles--okay, *smirks*--at him. A gloved hand tips his chin up, makes him look at the red mask. "Relax. I'll take care of everything."

Whoosh of air and Superman sees the uniform he was wearing is now draped neatly on the chair across the room. He looks down and sees his very naked body unmoved from his seat on the bed. "Okay. How’d you do that?"

"Trade secret." Flash pushes on Superman's chest until his head hits the pillow, then picks up Superman's bare hands and places them on the metal headboard. Flash grins at him and arranges himself between Superman's legs. "Perfect. Now don't move."

And then Flash is *covering* him. Long, wet kisses that Superman can lose himself in. He gets an appreciative groan when he sucks the tongue probing his mouth. Flash's hands don’t stop moving, tracing all the lines and curves, and Superman feels like he's being explored. Learned.

It's been a long time.

Superman twitches when hands trace too lightly over his ribs. Flash licks his ear and whispers, "Didn’t know you were ticklish, big guy."

"Clark."

"Hm?"

"My name. It’s Clark."

Flash looks in his eyes. "Oh. Wally." Pauses. "'Clark' huh?"

"It’s my mother's name."

"Your mother is named Clark? That's weird. No offense."

"It was her maiden name. And why are we talking about my mother right now?"

Wally laughs and dives in for a hard, wet sucking kiss to Clark's neck that makes him buck. Clark feels Wally's erection straining uncomfortably through the uniform, grinds against him, trying to get more, trying to get Wally to go *faster,* get *on* with it, but for once, this irritating once, the Fastest Man Alive is taking his time.

Wally sucks on Clark's hard pink nipple, sweeps it with the flat of his tongue, then bites and sucks until Clark *arches* off the mattress. Rolls the other nipple between his fingers, gets a yell when he twists *hard*.

"You like that."

"Harder..."

"I forget I can't hurt you." *Yanks* on Clark's nipple, and Clark's moaning pretty much constantly now. He's not really aware of what he's saying, but hopes it's something like "faster," "harder," or "please."

He feels a gloved hand sliding on his cock, spreading the pre-come around the head in slow circles. Bucks and digs his fingers into the headboard and the metal *caves* under his fingers. Watches Wally move down and hover above the cock lying flat against his belly. Sees him take Clark's cock in one hand, adjust himself in his uniform with the other.

Realizes exactly how *not* naked Flash is. He hasn't even taken off the fucking *mask*.

"Take off your clothes."

"Later. Busy now." Wally sucks a wet kiss on the head.

The headboard creaks in Clark's grip, and he bites into his bicep to keep from screaming down the Watchtower. Flash's mouth is wet and hot and *engulfing* him, and everything is reduced to where Wally’s mouth is sliding and sucking, *devouring* his flesh. Making his eyes roll back into his head with the effort of not thrusting down Wally's throat.

He forces his eyes open and watches Flash's head *bob* up and down the shaft, two fingers around the base and *squeezing* gently. It makes him harder, makes it *better*, wants to tell him how good he's making it for him and can only manage, "Wally, please, *yes*..."

Wally smiles around his cock, then pulls off with a wet pop. "Do you have lube?"

"Box."

Wally reaches off the bed with one hand, rummages through the cardboard box and pulls out a new bottle of lube. "You thought of everything."

"Flash..."

"Sh. I’ve got you." Wally drizzles the liquid over gloved fingers. Lifts Clark's cock with his other hand and licks the shaft, swirls his tongue around the head in slow, lazy circles. The lubed fingers nudge down into Clark's cleft, finding the hole. Slow circles and a little pressure, testing, asking permission and all Clark can do is spread his legs wider.

"God, please, *Wally*, in me, need you..."

Wally swallows Clark and pushes two fingers *in*, and it's a lot and Clark wasn't ready but *God*. Stretches him, fills him and the headboard is *buckling* under his grip. Wally's slowly fucking his mouth on Clark's cock and keeping rhythm in his ass, and it's not enough, it's too much and Clark's pleading, moaning and Flash's eyes are *smiling* at him.

Deep thrust and the fingers hit him *there*, and there's a white-out moment and Clark thinks he's going to come, that he just came, and he's moaning so loud it might be a scream. There may be one or two people on Omicron 6 who don't know he's having sex. But Flash just pulls off him, pulls his fingers out and says, "Roll over."

Clark tries hard not to curl in on himself. "*Flash*."

Flash pulls his shirt off, shucks off the uniform pants and grabs Clark's hips. Leans up and kisses him deep, hard, and Clark thinks he might come just from this. Flash breaks it gently, tugs at Clark's death grip on the headboard. "You have to let go, so you can turn over. Okay?"

Blinks once blankly at the man who almost sucked his brain out through his cock and now wants him to move. Slowly realizes that rolling over might encourage more of the touching that's making him stupid right now. "Yeah. Okay." The metal makes sad, protesting, what-did-I-ever-do-to-you noises when he finally uncurls his hands.

Flash's cock is dark red and surrounded by a light thatch of red hair. Clark *looks* at the man's face, sees the strawberry blond tendrils hanging in his eyes while he slicks himself. Clark forgets what they look like sometimes, underneath.

Watches the way Wally slicks himself, pouring on plenty of lube, and recognizes the gesture as one of an experienced man. "You’ve done this before."

Flash looks up. It's hard to tell if he's blushing or just flushed. Or both. "Yeah."

"I wasn’t sure... I didn’t know, if, you know."

Wally smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "Yeah."

"John?"

Wally flinches, recovers. "Yeah. Things have been... since him and Hawkgirl, y'know." He sighs. "Way to break the mood, Clark."

Clark grins. "*That's* for bringing up my mother."

"Hey! I didn't *know*--"

"Wally? Shut up." Takes Wally's cock in hand. Thumbs the slit on the upstroke and Wally leans into him, gripping his biceps and breathes out a moan. Clark leans in for a kiss but Wally pulls his hands away.

"Oh no you don't. I'm not done with you yet. You put those hands *back* on that headboard."

"I was only—-"

"Next time."

And Clark wonders if there could *be* a next time. He's nearly certain there could be, and pretty sure there will be. He tries not to think about exactly how long it would take Wally to go back to John if (when) things with Hawkgirl didn't work out. Experience and common sense say this *should* be a one-time thing, a simple acceptance of what Flash offered. And that shouldn't be complicated, because Flash doesn't offer anything unless he wants you to have it, and never offers anything conditionally.

Unlike some people.

Tries not to think about *him*, now. Clark turns around, grabs the headboard and kneels, spreading his legs.

Wally moves behind him, slick cock hitting Clark's cleft. Lifts Clark's hips until Wally can slide under him and settle him over his lap. Spreads Clark with one hand, guides his cock with the other.

Clark feels the blunt nudge to his hole. Eases back and down and feels it *spear* him, wide and insistent. Lets the head get all the way in before letting gravity take over and *pull* him down onto the shaft.

"*Clark.*" Flash bucks once, helplessly, hits Clark *deep* inside. The fingers on his hips would leave bruises on anyone else. Clark breathes through the familiar burn, the stretch and waits for his insides to rearrange enough to *allow* for this. His body tries to tighten around Flash's cock but he breathes through it, listens for Flash's breathing to get regular again before he, very slowly, starts to move.

Flash's hands slide around his chest and pull him in tight. Wetly mouths Clark's neck, nuzzles his ear and whispers, "Wanted you like this, wanted you on my *cock*.."

"Wally..."

"...saw you looking at me on the ship. Wanted to fuck you right *there* with everyone watching..."

"God, Wally, need it, *please*..."

Wally shifts his hips until he's hitting Clark *there* on every stroke. The strong arms wrapped around his chest pull Clark down on him so the thrusts are small and deep and hitting that good spot with every twitch of Wally's hips.

"*Yessss*…"

The voice is a rough purr in Clark's ear. "Gonna make this *good* for you..."

And then Wally starts to *vibrate*.

"Don’t need...don't need a *toy*, god, *fuck*," Wally gasps and Clark's fingers dig *through* the metal headboard. Wally's cock is thrumming inside him right *there* and it's too much, he wants to pull off but Wally's hands move from his chest and wrap around his cock. Strokes him with both hands and Clark thrusts into them and back down onto Wally, again and again. Wally's groaning, begging, telling Clark not to stop and there's no way that Clark could stop anything, ever, not if it meant stopping *this*. Wally's words are just cries now and that's fine because Clark realizes that his vision is *melting* the headboard, has to shut his eyes *now* and that means all he can feel is the cock in him and the slick hands around him and he's going to come, he's going to come, he's going to *come*...

Spurts hot and hard all over Wally's hands, which are squeezing him *hard* now. Clark's brain vaguely registers Wally spasming in him, can't really bring himself to do anything but *hang* on the crushed and melted metal. Rests his head on his forearms and tries to breathe, hitches when Wally pulls out and falls next to him.

Eventually, a hand taps him. "Hey."

"Yeah."

"You okay?"

"... Yeah."

"C'mere."

Lets Wally pull him down and toss the sheet over them. Clark rolls onto his back, drags the smaller man on top of him and plants a kiss on top of Wally's head.

"Feel better?"

"Mm. Much."

"And I don't require batteries."

Clark snorts. "No, just an insane amount of food."

"Not *that* insane."

"Have you *seen* our food bills? I swear, I don't know how Batman keeps the kitchen stocked the way you eat."

"My hyperspeed metabolism is part of my charm. And what did we say about bringing up other people during nookie?"

Clark breathes into Wally's hair. "Make me pay for it. Next time."

~end