Title: My utmost art I prove Authors: Betty and Zee Fandom: DCU (Superboy, mid-Teen Titans v3) Summary: There has to be some way to be better than Superman at something. Kon's sure of it. Pairing: Kon/Clark Rating: Adult Notes: I had nothing to do with this. You can't prove anything. "Let's see how your TTK is developing, Conner," Clark says, on his latest visit to Smallville. *Kon,* Kon thinks and doesn't say. "I never really get to stretch my TTK, really," he says, feeling a little defensive. "I mean, if I pull on mountains and stuff, people get mad about the mess." The corners of Clark's lips go up in not-really-a-smirk. "Can't imagine why." There's something about that smile that makes him feel he's in on the joke, but with Clark, he's never really sure he is. "Um, yeah." Clark takes off into the sky, and Kon follows him after staring at the raised dust like a moron for a second. He already knows where Clark's going. The intersection of nowhere and nowhere, a rocky bit of field that has just got rockier as everyone hauls rocks there. Clark stops after they get a few hundred yards into the air. "Try it on me." Kon blinks at him. "Try... you mean my TTK? But that's--" he frowns. "No way am I strong enough to hold *you* back."  "You won't know until you try," says Superman, which kind of means he'll know he can't once he tries, but maybe that's worth knowing anyway. "Now?" Kon asks. Clark smiles in that Superman way of his. Kon reaches out gingerly with his... whatever, brain-thing, and brushes Superman lightly. Clark tenses at that, but he doesn't move, just keeps staring straight at Kon with those big blue All-American eyes of his. And so Kon bites his lip and grabs him, holds him, and it's kind of weird using this to try and keep a human (something that's human-shaped) from moving *completely*, but... he can do it. And then Superman starts to pull. Kon's using every particle of his being to stop Clark from moving because that's what he's supposed to do. With the TTK, he has to *touch* him and it's like *touching him everywhere.* *All at once.* And Clark's muscles are *straining.* He's sweating and it's really fascinating to *feel* Clark sweating like that. Someone taught him that men perspire, horses sweat, and ladies glow, but Superman just seems to put off heat, like a furnace. Clark's just *hot.* Clark opens his mouth to say -- something. Stop or wait or good job, but Kon's too focused on not letting him move. He can feel Clark's *tongue* and it's wet and hot and -- and oh -- And Kon's not really there, holding Superman in place feels like using his mind as a muscle, and maybe if he was better at it he could just sort of cross his legs and meditate, but the only way he knows how to do it is to clench with all his strength.  And fuck, it's *Superman*. He's holding on to something and it's a bit like the poor old tractor trying to pull a stump, and a lot like trying to stop the sun in the sky by thinking hard enough. He's got his eyes squinting against the strain, and all he can hear is a faint buzzing in his ears, and he really doesn't want to pass out. Passing out would pretty much suck, because no matter how many times Clark says Kon has nothing to prove, that just *isn't* the case. And--Kon wants this. It should feel like the most incredible power trip to have Superman immobilized, but instead it just feels intimate. If they were arm wrestling, which they practically are, they'd be holding hands and staring into each other's eyes while they strain. Instead he's got not-hands on Clark's biceps and thighs and lips. On every part of him that's a muscle. It's hard to push back hard enough -- to remember it's Superman he's holding in place -- and hard to not want to be touched, too. He can feel the vibrations in Clark's throat when he tries to groan, and he can feel Clark's *eyelashes* flutter. He hears himself groan in sympathy before he really realizes he's doing it. He's almost positive that if Clark could speak right now, he would be saying Kon's name. Kon's not sure he can talk himself. He's afraid of what he'd say. He should let Clark talk, should let go that much, because if something's wrong -- but he's not sure his control's that good. If he stops touching, stops holding, Clark's going to get free. Kon can hear it in his head, hear Clark saying "Conner" in a strained voice, and his hold gets tighter. It makes him think "Kal-El," and maybe he says it, too. Not Conner, not like this -- his glasses are on the bedside table a long, long way away. And so are Clark's. And the need for communication is-- He's not sure why he thinks they need to talk. Clark can always zap him if there's a problem. But he reels Clark in closer anyway, because this way it feels better. Kon's hard from this, and that would be more embarrassing if he couldn't feel just how turned on Clark is, too. Touching someone with TTK is pretty much the same as groping them, but it's not usually this -- It's not cheating to put his hands on Clark's -- Superman's -- *Kal-El's* biceps and use that tension to hold him more tightly. He's not squeezing hard enough to hurt; maybe he can't. With his hands -- that's definitely groping. And before he thinks about it, the Superman costume is--gone. Heading for the ground, in pieces, and possibly that should scare him a little. Aunt Martha's probably not-- He's not going to think about Aunt Martha. This probably rates a little worse than burning a hole in Superman's cape, god-- Clark's eyes widen a little -- which must have taken a lot of willpower -- and he smiles, so, so slightly. And doesn't, can't, say Conner. Or Kon. Or anything. When Kon kisses him, it feels like taking a step back. Clark doesn't -- He doesn't, god, reach out, because he *can't.* He can't do *anything* because Kon is still pinning him. To do it right, he has to let Clark move his jaw, and that shifts his focus. It's -- it could be dangerous, if this wasn't training. But Clark licks his mouth and it's *not* dangerous, not Ivy -- not anything except kissing Superman, naked, naked Superman, in midair. Touching him with his fingers, his hands, is nothing like touching him with his power. It's less--it's *frustrating,* because flesh is just so limiting, and when Clark gasps against him Kon realizes he's squeezing a little hard. But Clark--Clark doesn't want him to stop, it's in his *eyes,* and in the way his tongue keeps stroking the roof of Kon's mouth. The thought that he's squeezing too hard for *Clark* to deal is overwhelming, too. It makes Kon's hips buck even though he's not pressed against Clark, there. He can just *want* it, and move Clark's hand, his leg, his mouth. And the thought of arranging Clark, like some kind of perverted film director, is-- Is really hot. Kon knows in his heart of hearts that he's *not* stronger than Clark, that if this needed to stop it would stop right now and he'd be heading for outer space courtesy of being tossed there. It makes him feel--slightly better about it all. But he's here, and now he *can* thrust against Clark's hip and really feel him. He can feel Clark thrust *back,* and that's just--not something he wants to think about. Except for how it's happening, how this is *Clark* strong and still and hard against him, and Kon squeezes his eyes shut. Maybe it means he's losing the battle, if it is a battle anymore. Clark shouldn't be moving. But Clark should be, if they're -- if they're doing this. Clark is panting, hot in his ear, a familiar echo of himself. It takes a second for Kon to be sure it's not because he's *squeezing* again. But it's because he's thrusting, and Clark -- Clark is thrusting back. Kon wraps his hand around himself and his power around both of them, just hard enough, and he can feel Clark trembling. Making Superman tremble is wilder than being able to hold him still. He's a little afraid, for the first time since this began. He presses his face against Clark's throat and licks him, tastes him, and--he doesn't taste human. He *does* taste like Kon, and he's fairly certain that shouldn't turn him on. But it makes this more like any of a hundred evenings he spent exploring the practical use of TTK, and that's reassuring in ways nothing else about this could possibly be. Clark groans, "Conner," out loud this time, and Kon realizes he's losing control. He firms up his grip -- not with his hand, because that would hurt, but with his power, and says, "Kal," for symmetry. He wants Clark's hands on him, but he also doesn't want to give this up. He wants to be *naked* and now his clothes are headed for the fields, too. He can feel Clark *push* against his TTK at that, but he's not getting anywhere. Kon's too busy rocking his hips and holding *on* and sucking on Clark's neck, because--he kind of feels like he has to try and give Superman a hickey. On principle, if nothing else. It's not working, but it's worth the effort -- and with a little TTK -- Clark's neck is a bit red. "Oh fuck," Kon says. And that makes Clark *laugh,* or at least try to; it comes out a little choked. Fuck it, thinks Kon, he's going to come, he's going to come on Superman, and that's just-- he's really glad he shredded the suit, first. He doesn't think he could come on the S-shield. Without it, the way he's moaning is more about them -- whoever they are, naked in the sky -- and less about family and duty and shit that should stop his hips from jerking while he comes, hard and panting. He loses control for a second while his vision whites out, and the only thing keeping him from falling is Clark's leg wrapped around his hips. For a second it's like he feels everything, not just Clark, and he's reaching for it all, trying to hold on to something solid while he's coming his brains out. When he can hear again, he hears Clark saying, "I've got you, Conner. It's okay," and then he can feel Clark's hands on his back. On his ass. He rocks back and Clark squeezes, and then Kon feels himself being *lifted* until Clark's mouth is rough against his again. If he hadn't lost control of his TTK, he wouldn't have to worry about what Clark would *say* now, because Clark wouldn't be talking. It's not as good to kiss him and keep kissing him, because Clark can stop that anytime, but it would be kinda unfair to TTK Clark into holding still again. Plus his hips are jerking, and it would be *cruel,* and with Clark scraping at Kon's mouth with his teeth, Kon pretty much can't get his brain to work anyway, so it's just not gonna happen. So Kon touches him with his hands instead, squeezes Clark's dick and feels him leak on his fingers. He's not stroking with any kind of rhythm or finesse, but Clark is groaning into his mouth and it sounds like 'thank you'. At least he's not calling him "Conner" now. Kon wonders whether he should be doing this harder, or faster, or more -- Kryptonian, but he can't figure out how with his TTK not doing anything but holding him up. And, well. Kon used to think there was no such thing as bad sex, now he knows better, but he's pretty sure this isn't it. And he *knows* he can get Clark to come. So he just strokes and squeezes and bites at Clark's lips, and when Clark comes it gets all over Kon's hand and chest. "Conner," Clark says again, breaking off the kiss, and Kon wants to punch him. "Are you --" He's really jealous that Clark doesn't immediately drop like a rock when he comes, but it makes it easier to let him go and float *away.* "It's fine." He should have something cool to say here, to make Clark feel like a jerk, but he's not, he can't think that fast, he knows he'll think of something cool later. Later, when he and Clark aren't both *naked* and when Clark's come isn't sticky and wet on his skin. Clark gives him one of those looks that goes with being a world-famous reporter instead of a farmboy. "All right," he says, "but --" "Sorry about the clothes," says Kon, and then starts to feel really dumb hanging around in the sky, butt naked, and wishes he hadn't said it. Clark just looks at him, and--Kon *isn't* going to blush, dammit. Except for how he is. "I should -- chores --" Kon says, turning away so maybe Clark won't see his red face. "You're really doing well with the telekinesis," says Superman, because if you're Superman, apparently that's what you say after TK sex. "Thanks for noticing," says Kon, and wishes TTK would let him kick his own ass. He really needs to get the hell out of here before Clark starts offering tips on milking cows or something. He kind of wants to kick himself, because he sounds like a sulky teenaged *brat* and even if he is a sulky teenaged brat, he thought he was hiding it better. "Perhaps we should try *shorter* drills," Clark says.  "Yeah, um. Yeah." Kon tightens one hand into a fist because they're not sparring, not naked and -- and still sticky. "Um. Right. Gotta go. That hay's not going to stack itself." "Conner --" Clark says as Kon speeds up, but he's far enough away he can pretend not to hear. They haven't done superhearing practice in months, and -- and the Doppler effect -- and anyway he's not going to answer. Sometimes Kon wishes Clark wasn't quite so enthusiastic about the importance of training.
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