Same Time Next Week

1) The following is a work of erotic fiction. Those under 18 (or whatever is the age of majority in your jurisdiction) should stop reading now.

2) This story contains characters and settings copyrighted by DC Comics. This story should be considered a parody of those characters and settings. It is also distributed free of charge and is a non-commercial enterprise; the author derives no profit from its distribution. No copyright infringement is intended.

3) I'm no continuity buff, so for simplicity's sake this story uses the TV show

Justice League

as its model, with bits and pieces picked up from the comics as I'm familiar with them. Please accept it as the best knowledge I had when the story was written.

4) This is my first foray into erotic fiction, fan fiction, or indeed fiction of any sort. Feedback is definitely welcome, and encouraged! (Props to "Ann Douglas" and "JR"; I liked your stories very much, and regretted that more authors couldn't write stories like you. Then I decided I had better put my money where my mouth is.)

* * * * *

The world was blue. The sky above, empty of clouds, was a keen azure; the sea below, a deeper aquamarine. The sun, blazing in the western sky, cast a fierce glow over the whole scene.

It's beautiful

, Kal thought.

So beautiful

.

He flew on, but the glory of the seascape held him. While on land, he made a point of flying at subsonic speeds, so that the thunder of his passage would not inconvenience anyone, but over the oceans he usually ramped up to much higher velocities. Not today, though. Today Metropolis was quiet; today there were no League emergencies; today was for him. He could take the time to enjoy the bounty of his adopted home.

Be honest, Kal

.

This is about more than aesthetics; this is about anticipation

.

He smiled to himself, and flew on.

The north Atlantic sped by beneath him. Occasionally he slowed his flight and came about in mid-air, using his super-vision to look back at the shore he had left behind hundreds of miles before.

Metropolis is

there

; Charleston is

there

; and Bermuda is

there

. Still on course, then

. Idly, he wondered how the others kept their bearings on trans-oceanic trips. Bruce certainly had GPS positioning, and who knew what else, in his plane, and probably John's ring kept track of that sort of thing for him, but what about the rest? Without super-vision to triangulate, it would be easy to get lost out here.

As he gazed westward, he glanced at the sun, and came back to himself.

If it's that high above the horizon, then I'm later than I thought

. Leaving his reverie, he turned and resumed his flight, faster now. Luckily, he didn't have far to go.

He came to a halt over a patch of water that, even to his eyes, seemed no more remarkable than any other spot for miles around. Quickly, he glanced upwards, his gaze extending all the way into orbit. A handful of satellites were above, but none, he quickly determined, were spy satellites. One of them, a Lexcorp Cellular broadcast node, was narrowcasting into Gotham, which was a violation of F.C.C. rules; probably some sort of corporate espionage, though with Lexcorp there was always the possibility of something more sinister. He made a mental note to mention it to Bruce at the next meeting, though Bruce probably was already aware of it.

Not my problem, though, not right now

. He smiled again.

Satisfied that he wasn't observed, he closed his eyes and recited the phrase. He didn't know the language—he had assumed at first it was classical or

koine

Greek, but a few passes through the Planet's reference library had disproved that—but the incantation was effective in any case. As he finished, the air rippled slightly, and the island appeared beneath him.

It was small, only a few hundred metres long and half as wide. It put the Club Med brochures to shame; the dazzling white beach ran up a slight slope and into the shade of the palm trees. The sudden presence of the island forced itself upon him. Now he could hear the slap of the waves against the shore; now he could smell the surprisingly pleasant aroma of decaying palm leaves. They had not been there before. Whatever hid the island, it wasn't invisibility; for miles in every direction the diffraction patterns of the waves were now different. Before this island hadn't been here to interrupt the water's progress. Was this a demi-dimension? A fold in space? He wasn't sure; magic had never been his strong suit. The first few times he had come here, the matter had bothered him, but no more. He descended, landing on the beach with a soft crunch.

She was waiting for him. She lay on her back beneath the palm trees, a thin cloth between her and the sand. Like him, she was in uniform: her bracelets, tiara, and golden-eagle halter sparkled in the few rays of sunlight that broke through the palm canopy above, in sharp contrast to her red boots and blue star-spangled tights, which appeared an inky gray in the shadows. As he landed, she slowly sat up, stretching. Bars of sunlight danced over her, limning her beautiful figure: her supple legs, her muscular arms, her hourglass torso. As he approached, she rose to her feet in a single motion. She smiled at him, a smile of welcome, so unlike the stern expression she usually wore in the Watchtower, but put her arms akimbo in mock disapproval.

"Hello, Kal. I was wondering if you were going to make it." Tilting her head slightly, Diana extended her lower lip in a pout, then spoiled the effect with a giggle.

"Sorry. At least it wasn't business; a civilian matter came up that I couldn't postpone."

If their Justice League colleagues had been there, they would have been taken aback at Diana's giggle, so uncharacteristic of the serious, even humourless Amazon the world called Wonder Woman. They would have been downright flabbergasted if they had seen what happened next, though. Reaching her, Kal—Superman—leaned down, placed a muscular arm around her slim waist, pulled her close in an embrace, and kissed her.

* * *

It had started months earlier. Diana was sitting monitor duty in the Watchtower. It was early Sunday morning, a few hours past midnight Eastern Standard Time. Choice of which time zone to honour was an arbitrary one aboard a satellite, but as three of the League's four members lived on the east coast of the United States—Superman in Metropolis, Batman in Gotham City, and Wonder Woman in New York City—Watchtower schedules used their clock. Hawkgirl grumbled about this occasionally, but since Green Lantern, out on the west coast, never supported her, Eastern Standard Time was what they had.

Saturday night was never a popular shift. Green Lantern made his weekly trip to Oa to report to the Corps then; Batman was tied up dealing with the excesses of Gotham City's weekend exertions; Hawkgirl, Flash, and Superman, whose civilian identities were secret, needed the opportunity to stay connected to their private social lives. The Martian Manhunter and Wonder Woman were thus most frequently on duty, since their civilian identities were only shells. For both of them, civilian life was at best a hobby and at worst a cover which enabled them to work cases without attracting attention.

It was supposed to have been J'onn's shift, but business in Australia had held him up, and Diana, without anything better to do, had volunteered in his place. She sat in front of the monitors, observing the state of the world. For once, everything was at peace. Still, she remained alert. Part of her—a small part—wished something would happen, something that would allow her to test her skills, but she repressed it. She was trained as a warrior, the best soldier from a society of soldiers, but it was not just her ability in combat that had won her the position of Ambassador to Patriarch's World. As Ambassador, she had to epitomize the Amazon spirit, be an object lesson to the global community. Part of that lesson was that force should be defensive, not offensive; the true warrior never struck, but rather struck back. Fighting for the sake of fighting was the mark of the barbarian.

A soft chime rang. That was the perimeter alarm, indicating the approach of someone designated friendly. Checking the defense screen, she saw Kal flying in towards the docking bay. A frown creased her brow. According to the status monitor, Superman was on-call for the League, but not scheduled to pull monitor shift today. So why was he here? If there had been trouble, wouldn't he have signaled the Watchtower rather than coming himself? She watched the monitor intently. If he knew the codes for the airlock, it was

prima facie

evidence this was the real Superman, not an imposter. If he didn't, he'd quickly find that the Watchtower had ample defenses... of which she was not the least.

Superman landed by the airlock, punched the proper codes into the keypad, and entered. In a few moments, he walked into the monitor station. "Diana! Hello. I... I thought J'onn would be here."

"He was supposed to have been, but something came up, so I took his shift. Is everything all right?" Diana was a trained warrior, with a warrior's eye. She only needed a quick glance to determine that this was indeed the real Kal, but her disquiet was not eased. Now that she could see him in person, it was evident to her that something was wrong. Instead of standing erect as he normally did, he slumped. Rather than meeting and holding her gaze, he had looked away. His hands were closed, rather than open. Whatever the problem was, it must be serious.

"Yes. Yes. Yes, everything's fine." He cleared his throat. "Ah, I can take over here, if you like. In fact, I wouldn't mind a few hours to myself right now."

"Well, if you want it, I won't deny it to you. Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yes. I'm fine. Really." As he strode over to the monitor chair, he asked, facing away from her, "Did J'onn signal if he was going to be in today at all?"

"No. That is, he won't be. He said something about being in the middle of something delicate. He's on call for emergencies, but made it clear he doesn't want to be disturbed."

"I see." His voice was leaden. "Okay. I'll bear that in mind."

Diana hesitated, but nothing more was forthcoming. She turned to go, but when she reached the door she paused. "Kal... I can see something's bothering you. You don't have to tell me anything, but if you need any help, I'm here for you, all right?"

He didn't reply. As she turned to go, he blurted, "Diana, wait. You're right. Something is bothering me, but it's... well... it's something I need J'onn's help with. I'm grateful to you, but really, I need a telepath for this. I mean, for me. It's not a case or anything, not a League matter, it's personal. Thank you for your concern, though."

"I see." She didn't, but she didn't wish to press him. If he didn't trust her enough to confide in her, that was his business. She kept her voice neutral, but Kal's eye was as sharp as hers; he could see she was hurt. "Look. I... okay. It's just... you can't help me with this. I promise you. It's something I have to deal with myself."

Later, she wondered why she hadn't let the matter drop there, as decorum required. Eventually she decided that she couldn't bear to see him suffer, not after all he had done for her. Superman had saved her life in battle, and she had saved his. It wasn't right to let him fight his demons without help... and she knew him well enough to know that he would never ask for it. He was too used to providing aid to others to seek it for himself. "Kal, we're a team. There is nothing you should have to face alone. No matter what, I and the others will be there for you, just as you would be for us." She paused. "Please. Tell me what's wrong."

His face sagged. Clearly, she had hit a nerve. He exhaled deeply, then leaned forward in the chair. He began to speak, quietly.

"All right. Maybe talking about it will help. It was a relief to confide to J'onn about this..." He met her eyes for a moment, then looked away, staring not at the monitors but out into space. He didn't look at her once while he spoke.

"It's well-known, I suppose, that my powers come from yellow sun radiation. Back on Krypton, with our red sun, I wouldn't be any more remarkable than the average human is here. No one on Krypton would. Those powers are a great blessing to me, but sometimes... sometimes they get in the way.

"I can't shave, did you know that? Earth razors break on my stubble, and Earth scissors snap on my hair. That was a problem at first, but I developed suitable tools; diamond monofilaments and such, which aren't difficult for me to make. What the yellow sun takes away, it more than gives back.

"Except in one area. I can't..."

Great Hera

, thought Diana.

He's blushing

! In a hoarse whisper, he continued, "I cannot... consummate... a physical relationship. It's just not possible. With my strength, I couldn't avoid... damaging... any partner I took. It's not a matter of children," he hurried on. "I have DNA, it's an interesting example of evolutionary parallelism, that that structure is so efficient it appeared both on Krypton and Earth, but DNA isn't enough. The chromosomes, well, they don't match. That other thing they call me, the Last Son of Krypton, that's true too. My race is done.

"But that doesn't bother me. I have accepted it. What's harder to accept is celibacy. I've lived with it all my life. It's part of the cost of who I am. But sometimes... it's harder to bear it at some moments than others. This is one of those times. J'onn understands the problem, as he's in much the same position. He can deal with it, though. Martian telepathy, Martian meditation; he's been helping me sublimate it."

He broke off, then looked up, meeting her eyes. "So."

For a long moment, they gazed at each other. Finally, she spoke.

"Thank you for trusting me with this, Kal. I realize how difficult this must be for you to speak about."

"Yes. Well. Thank you for listening. It does help. But what would help most, I think"—he straightened up—"would be some time to myself."

He swiveled the chair around. Diana knew she had been dismissed, but she remained, thoughts whirling through her head. Minutes passed. Kal turned to look at her, and she said, "I think... I think that, actually, there is something I can do for you."

His eyes widened slightly. "Diana... I wasn't—"

She spoke past his interruption, her cool demeanour not changing a whit. "The issue you speak of is not unknown among my people, given that we rarely see men and we use magic to produce children. While many of us find the... consummation... you speak of with each other, many of us do not, and for them there are... methods. You may find them helpful."

He didn't say anything, but the slight furrow to his brow told her he was thinking hard. Finally, he nodded. "I hope so. Yes, I'll take whatever assistance you can give me. Thank you. I should stay at the monitors for now... can I meet you in the dojo when I'm done here?" The Watchtower dojo was mostly for Batman's benefit, though both Hawkgirl and Wonder Woman took advantage of the facilities it provided.

"No. I'm afraid these premises aren't suitable." She paused. "Where could we... ah. Ah, yes, that would do. Perfect." Looking away quickly, she said in a rush "Themascyra would be best, but as neither you nor I would be welcome there, we will need an alternative. There is an island in the vicinity, though. The Amazons know of it, but do not use it. We will have the necessary privacy."

"Of course."

Poor woman

, he thought.

She's clearly embarrassed. Her banishment must still cause her pain. I know what that's like

. "We can go together."

"Yes, that will be necessary, but not today. I will need some time to prepare. I'll contact you on Friday afternoon. Have a good night."

She turned to go. "Wait! You haven't told me anything. Should I—"

She was already out the door. "It would be best to proceed with an open mind. You won't need to prepare or bring anything. Until then..." Her footsteps faded away. Minutes later, Superman watched her on the monitors. She departed the same way he had arrived, flying down (or was it up?) into the atmosphere.

Hmmm. Wonder Woman indeed. She certainly has me wondering what she's got in store for me. Probably some sort of military training

. He shuddered.

Still, any port in a storm

.

* * *

With a sigh, he leaned back in his chair and did his best to lose himself in the monitors. Facing other people's monsters, he hoped, would keep his own at bay.

It was a long week for Kal. Lois, who had recently scooped him on a story about industrial pollution in the harbour, had been crowing about her achievement all week. Of course she was beautiful by the world's standards, with her perfect features and her impeccable taste in clothes; but what Kal found most attractive about her were her more intangible qualities—her self-confidence, her ambition, and her concealed, but visible to him, determination to expose the guilty. Her passion for justice, so similar to his own, was what he loved. Her success had filled her with an energy he found charming, even when she expressed it in schoolyard gibes. When mixed together with her achingly perfect body it was tantalizing beyond compare... but he knew she didn't have similar regard for him, at least not yet: to her he was still a quiet man from a small town. He hoped to win her over eventually, but in the meantime he burned. In other circumstances he would have sought relief, but intrigued by the possibilities of what Diana might offer him, he didn't pursue them. It was just as well: J'onn was still unavailable, and his other options were also closed to him. The Kents had raised him to be a traditional Kansas boy as best they could. He was grateful to them for it, for he knew the best parts of himself—his decency, perseverance, respect for life, and tolerance of other people—flowed from the upbringing they had given him. He had taken the bad with the good, though, including a strong animus against self-stimulation. Even though he knew intellectually that masturbation was a healthy outlet, he couldn't shake feelings of self-disgust, and indulged in it rarely. He usually found relief by channeling his energy into his duties as Superman, but Metropolis remained frustratingly free of crime or disaster that week, and responsibilities around the Daily Planet kept him from extended work outside the city. Throwing himself into those responsibilities as best he could, he tried to distract himself, which worked during the days. At nights, though, he would wake from half-remembered dreams with an agonizingly swollen cock.

I'm lucky my water bill is fixed

, he thought,

given how many cold showers I'm taking

.

Finally the week ended, and late on Friday afternoon he abandoned the city room of the newspaper with relief. Donning his costume, he did a quick patrol around the city. He had only just finished when his League communicator began to hum, alerting him to a message from Diana. Although it could be used as a sort of universal mobile phone, using the Watchtower and allied satellites as a relay, she hadn't called him but rather had sent a text message, instructing him to fly to a certain spot in the Atlantic. With a bit of thinking, he placed it as being just within a hundred miles of Themascyra, the Amazons' Paradise Island, where he had once visited with the rest of the League. With his super-speed it took only minutes to arrive at what, to him, seemed nothing more than an empty patch of ocean.

With a ripple, an island appeared before him, and he descended, confused. She was waiting for him, sitting cross-legged beneath the palms, in full uniform.