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Barn of Fornification	By : samanthaequinn Category: DC Verse Comics > Batman Views: 2891 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Batman series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Barn of Fornification
- 1
Barn of Fornification
Rating: R
Pairing: Robin I (Dick Grayson)/Superman
Disclaimer: If I owned ‘em, their sex lives would be so much better. Alas for them, I don’t.
A/N: Dickie’s underage here, but since no *actual* sex occurs, Clarkie’s not a child molester.
Summary: Dick visits Smallville, the barn of fornification, and has a *very* vivid imagination.
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“Superman and Blowjobs just don’t go together,” Roy had commented to Dick once. It had, in fact, been just last week when Kory had been on yet another “humans are far too sexually repressive” kick, which of course had led the Titans to a round of “I know you’re not gay, but who would you switch teams for?”
It had been difficult for Dick to be enthused about that particular game, because wow, did it ever hit just a little too close to home. Also, other than Kory, his friends weren’t as open to alternative lifestyles as they could be. They were superheroes-in-training. Couldn’t they act . . . well, more super?
But his irritation aside, Dick had listened dutifully as the others answered, and when it came his time, he purposely paused, picked away the mushrooms from his pizza, and slowly twirled an abandoned piece of crust between his fingers in an attempt to look contemplative. It was a good disguise, as it hid the fact that there was really one answer that immediately came to mind.
“Superman,” he’d said. And, oh, he’d been so * proud * of how nonchalant that had sounded.
But then they’d laughed. Every. Single. One. Of. Them. Some friends they were.
Dick had flushed several shades of red. Then, giving his best “Batman glare,” had responded, “Well, you asked.”
“Yeah, but * Superman *?” Gar had asked skeptically. “He’s as straight as one of Speedy’s arrows.”
“I don’t know. There are an awful lot of rumors abut Supes with Bats,” Wally had said. * Evil, * * Evil, * Wally. Bruce and Clark? Oh, no, no, no!
“That’s stupid,” Roy had argued. Good, faithful Roy. “Batman hates Superman.” Well, that wasn’t exactly true, but...
“That’s not what Diana says,” Donna had chipped in. “She says Batman only acts like he hates Superman to hide his affection.”
Between bites of mushrooms pilfered from Dick’s plate, Wally mumbled, “Yeah, and besides, what kind of person hates * Superman *?”
“Batman,” Raven had answered. And really, Dick had decided he loved Raven very much in that moment. Because Bruce * did * hate Clark. Otherwise… well, * that * had been too awful to contemplate, so Dick hadn’t.
At which point, Roy had rolled his eyes and made the observation, “Who cares about Batman? * Superman * can’t have a sex life at all, and certainly not a gay one, because that would involve blowjobs. And Superman and blowjobs just don’t go together.”
Though Dick hadn’t said anything at the time, he had privately agreed. Not that Dick had lacked for Superman fantasies. The mere thought of those muscles straining against the fabric of his costume was enough to make Dick hard and the mere sound of Superman’s voice in his ear as they’d flown was jerk off fodder for * weeks*. Dick could very easily imagine the same large hands that wrapped so firmly around his waist in flight, moving south and wrapping around his cock.
Sadly, Dick could never settle on a realistic blowjob fantasy, because as unfair as it was, Speedy was right. Superman and blowjobs just *didn’t * go together.
The revelation at Titan’s Tower hadn’t stopped him from agreeing to accompany Superman to Smallville. Amazing, Bruce hadn’t objected to his going. Even more amazingly, Bruce hadn’t objected to Dick staying an extra day after Toyman’s plans to find any remaining Kryptonite – where better to look than The Meteor Capitol of The World?
“It’s your time to waste, Robin,” came the snippy reply from Bruce, who had been too busy with another case to help. Because Bruce so * did * really hate Superman.
But, oh, Bruce had never been more wrong. Neither the trip nor staying an extra day had been a waste of time. Because Superman and blowjobs might not go together, but Dick was discovering that Clark Kent and blowjobs went together fantastically. Or, rather, his imagination was discovering this fact.
It was ridiculous distinction to make. But his mind wasn’t seeing any use in such logic, and neither, quite frankly were his hormones.
But, no, on the other hand, it made perfect sense. * Superman * couldn’t get dirty. No matter how many battles he’d fought or villains he’d faced, Superman’s hair always remained perfectly in place, his suit perfectly in tact with his cape still flying proudly behind him. It proved an interesting contrast to Dick’s own suit, which frequently tore, needed washing, and in general, got messy.
But Superman * never * got messy, and Dick couldn’t begin to imagine how Superman would look between his legs, his hair tousled from Dick’s hands holding on for dear life. That damnable suit * wouldn’t move * so all Dick’s frustrated legs would feel would be smooth, cold spandex. And in the end, when Dick’s impatience, inexperience, and hormones got the better of him, and he came entirely too quickly without any finesse *at all, * his cum would leak onto * that * costume.
No, no. That hadn’t been right at all. But the man standing three feet away from him was a * farm boy. * Clark therefore not only knew, but * embraced * dirtiness. As proof, Clark was currently squatting a foot away from a pile of cow crap, a calming hand on the cow’s side while milking the cow with the other. And yes, that sight was going to be filling his fantasies for a good *long * time. Not just for the obvious care with which Clark was jerking on the cow...
But because the oversized blue flannel shirtsleeves were rolled up, while the shirttails were partially un-tucked. And Clark’s ass was completely * made * to be covered in jeans. He should probably wear them into battle. The villains would all stop to stare appreciatively, how could they not, and Superman could just knock them unconscious before they ever jerked out of their Super ass induced fantasies.
Unlike Superman, Clark Kent * had * a sex life. He had to have one, because that body deserved it. Dick could easily imagine * that * body between his legs. Clark’s hair would be ruffled, his lips still sullied with Dick’s cum. The top of his very bare chest would show dried evidence of Dick’s enthusiasm. That ill-fitting shirt practically * begged * to be removed. From his vantage point here in the Kents’ barn, Dick could imagine how those exposed forearm muscles would give way to equally sculpted shoulders. He’d never really had a very vivid picture of what Superman would look like naked – not that he hadn’t tried, but *that suit * always got in the way. But Clark’s now upright form was helping ease that problem.
It was causing another sort of problem, entirely, however. It didn’t make any sense that his short pants would hide a hard on better than his jeans, but they did. Speaking of strange truths, Dick tried not to think what it said about his mental health if a pile of cow crap could * improve * his sexual fantasies, but it did...
Because * Superman * never fumbled and therefore could never understand Dick’s hesitation when it was Dick’s turn to taste * him *.
Unlike the fantasies with Superman sucking him off, the fantasies with Superman in Dick’s mouth had gone fairly far, because Dick was fairly certain of two things. One, Superman would taste like liquid summertime. Two, Superman, whom Bruce had referred to more than once as too touchy-feely, would so very much let Dick know when he’d satisfied the older man. Dick could practically hear Superman crying out with satisfaction. There’d be no guessing, no trying to read Superman’s mind – just the knowledge that Dick had done a good job and that he’d pleased his partner.
But the realist in him knew that there’d be a lot of fumbling before they got to that point, and frankly, Dick couldn’t imagine fumbling around like an inexperienced little kid in front of someone as flawless as Superman.
But Clark – the one who was giving him a self conscious smile while trying to clean cow poop off his work boots - * could * understand. Clark would use those same hands that gently milked the cow, and Clark would use the same Superman whisper that they’d used during flight to guide Dick’s virgin mouth to all the right places. Even amid the stale smell of hay, cow excrement, and dirt, Dick could all but taste the combination of lemonade, sunflower seeds, and hand-scooped strawberry ice cream that Dick was sure composed the flavor of Clark’s cum.
“Dick? I’m going to take this milk to Ma.”
“Um... okay.”
“Then, if you’re done shucking the corn, I thought we could take Katie and Hazel out for a ride.”
Right, he was going to go riding with Superman... * the corn! * Dick gave a rueful glance at the sadly neglected pile and nodded. “That’d be great, Clark.”
He was rewarded with one of Superman’s face splitting smiles. Dick was pretty sure he could spend the rest of his life looking at that smile. “I think that’s the first time you’ve actually said my name. I’m glad you finally comfortable enough to do so.”
Oh, Dick was comfortable enough, all right. In fact, so comfortable that when Clark turned and walked back towards the house and Dick resumed the long neglected pile of corn, the very act of peeling back the silky corn shucks made his over-aroused mind think of sex. Specifically, it made him contemplate the very real possibility that Clark hadn’t been circumcised. Oddly, the thought had never popped into his head before. And really, * corn * was probably a weird catalyst. But no odder, Dick supposed, than any other impetus he’d managed to find in the Kents’ barn.
Dick wiggled uncomfortably in his jeans. Stupid hormones. But Alfred * did * say it happened to everybody. Which meant, of course, that at some point even Superman – Clark – had been in the same shoes. Dick paused in his work once again to give the barn a quick appreciative glance. He wondered what type of fantasies a teenage Clark Kent had jerked off to, and if there had ever been a very hot, very powerful, very desirable older man just out of Clark’s reach.
Probably not. But Dick decided that it was entirely plausible that the lofts would have given Clark’s tall, muscular frame plenty of room to work out any frustration he might have had. The idea that he was standing just feet away from the spot where Superman had once upon a time jerked off was a very pleasant one. So pleasant, in fact that Dick’s smile was still plastered on his face when Clark came back out to the barn.
Clark had taken his time in the house, and Dick was able to finish shucking the corn while Clark saddled the horses. When the pile was finished, Dick set it aside for Jonathan Kent to retrieve, wondering idly how many bugs would crawl into the bucket before the farmer came to get it.
“Have you ever ridden before?” Clark asked.
A little voice smirked at the question inside Dick’s head, but aloud he responded like the adult Clark treated him as instead of the horny little boy he was. “A couple times, back in the circus.”
“Well, these aren’t show horses. They’re a bit more spirited. It’s nothing you can’t handle, but I think it’ll be safer if you take Hazel.”
Dick nodded. Hazel was smaller, and didn’t seem as eager to bite Clark’s hands off.
“Um, Dick, I don’t mean to pry, but... is everything okay?”
The smile melted off Dick’s face. “Um, sure. Why do you ask?”
Clark shrugged. “You’ve been a little distracted all day, and strangely quiet. *Bruce * quiet.”
“I just have a lot on my mind.”
“Anything you want to discuss?”
Yes. Because in his fantasies, this is how these encounters always began, with Dick confessing both his sexuality and his attraction. True, the conversation in his fantasies usually took place in the Fortress of Solitude, but the Barn of Fornification would do.
But then again, no. Because as much as he wanted this, Dick * knew * that Superman wouldn’t. Even if he did * want * to, he * couldn’t * return it. There was simply no way the Big Blue Boy Scout would ever have sex with an underage teenage boy in his parents’ barn.
“Dick?”
“Nah. Nothing’s wrong, really. Life’s just... complicated.”
Clark threw him a sympathetic smile before mounting his horse. “I know the feeling.”
Dick followed suit and realized Clark hadn’t been kidding about Hazel being “spirited.” If Dick hadn’t been a trained acrobat, he would have been tossed clear across the barn. “And here I thought it was going to get better at some point.”
Clark laughed, a deep, rumbling sound which tickled the inside of Dick’s stomach. “Sorry, but no.”
“Well, I’ll just have to get over it.”
Clark turned to look at him from his saddle, his strong hands urging Katie to stand still. “You know, Dick, I consider you one of my dearest friends. I enjoy your company, and I don’t like the idea of you hurting. If there’s ever anything you do want to talk about, I hope you know you can always come to me.”
And Bruce had called this day a waste of time!
“I know, Clark, and thank you for inviting me. I mean, even after the mission with Toyman.”
“It’s been my pleasure.”
Oh, no. There was no way Clark had gotten as much pleasure from this as Dick had. To prove the point, Dick allowed Hazel to trot out several paces behind Clark and Katie. The magnificent grace with which Clark rode in his saddle not only made Dick’s jeans even tighter, it also reminded him that there was far more to a fantasy sex life than blowjobs.
And no, Superman and * that * probably didn’t go together either. But Dick was pretty certain that Clark Kent could.
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The End.
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Barn of Fornification