This story is, of course, a work of fiction. Any and all sex is between two (or more, heh heh) consensual, of-age males. If male/male sexual relations offend you, you must be on the wrong website.
The Freshman Five
Chapter One -- Moving in
Clark strapped his large duffle bag across his broad, muscular chest and carried his two heavily laden powder blue suitcases in his hands as he unloaded his neighbor's truck. His mother sat in the passenger's seat, her eyes brimming with tears of pride.
"Pa would have been so proud Clark," she said, brushing a string of her silver hair from her weeping eyes. Clark embraced his mother in his strong arms and rubbed her back, assuring her that he'd call regularly and write when he got the chance.
"I'm sure you'll be busy son, just reach me when you can," she said, patting his bear sized hands.
"I love you ma," Clark said as he pecked her on the cheek. Ma took one last look at her boy. He'd grown up to be so handsome: strong jaw and chin, thick dark hair and those eyes; the sweetest most honest eyes she'd ever seen, their piercing blue able to take the very breath from your chest. She stroked his smooth face and wiped the hint of a tear away from his eye.
"I love you too, son," she said. They waved goodbye as the pick up truck hurried her back to the farm. Clark breathed deeply. The air wasn't as clean in Pacific Park, but it had a good smell all its own. It smelled like freedom and new beginnings and a little like motor oil. Clark made a face. "He needs to get that pick-up fixed," Clark thought.
He turned around to drink in the beauty of the school at which he'd arrived.
Stern University had an amazing campus. The grounds were lush and green and very well maintained. The trees were vibrant and healthy, their blossoms littering the ground. Everywhere you looked there was a cobblestone path and the school itself was something to behold. Boasting the largest school grounds on the west coast, Stern's school buildings alone spanned a square mile, not to mention the residence halls and fitness centers. Clark had been warned about the incredible amount of time it took sometimes to get from one class to another. Luckily, the school had shuttles, underground paths and sky bridges to cut down on tardiness problems in the school. Not that he'd have a problem with that. The layout was more or less a gigantic `U' with several smaller buildings in the center. The buildings were all the same construction typical of a University: orange brick with marble pillars and concrete steps. There was a clock tower at the top of "Franklin Hall" (which housed the School of Sciences) and was, in configuration, the bottom horizontal part of the "U" formation. According to Clark's map, the building to the left of Franklin Hall was "Jefferson Hall" (School Fine and Performing Arts) and the building to the right of Franklin Hall was "Washington Hall" (School of Sports and Medicine). They weren't original names for halls, to be sure, but Clark had never had to name a hall and wasn't sure that he'd do any better a job at it.
Clark re-read his instruction sheet, which had been nearly torn in two from the constant reading and folding of the thing. Clark had committed it to memory, but held on to it more for comfort sake that anything else. He was to report to the main office, which was a rotunda just north of Franklin Hall and receive his room key and building pass. There was, as was expected, a VERY long line, but Clark made the most of it by reading his book list over and seeing what he'd need to pick up before classes started the next week. He was glad not to have to worry about money now. Things had been so hard on he and his mother ever since his father'd had that heart attack and passed away. Since then, he had made it a goal to get to a good university using the only thing he knew: football. Clark had been towel boy for much of his high school career until one day, after clearing up the team's equipment; Clark kicked the football and cleared the goal post from 100 yards. Clark remembered hearing a thunk and spun around him to see his coach on the ground in a spread eagle, passed completely out. From that day on, Clark was on the team, and upon their defeat of the Jansen High Buckaroos for State his senior year, Clark was finally an equal.
"Name?" said the young man at the assistant's desk. His voice jerked Clark out of his reverie.
"Oh, sorry about that...Kent," Clark replied.
"No worries. Ok, I need to verify some information: you are here on football scholarship, correct?" Clark nodded.
"And will you be paying for housing yourself?" he asked. Clark's mind went blank. Money, he didn't have any money. How was he supposed to pay for rent?
"I-isn't that covered by my scholarship?" Clark asked, his voice trembling. He thought he would be sick.
"Well, not exactly. You see here..." the young man turned the screen toward Clark, inviting him to get a closer look. As Clark leaned in he could have sworn the raven-haired boy had blown in his ear, which tickled and gave him goose bumps. "Maybe it was an accident," Clark thought. How strange, maybe that's how people behaved out here. His ear had certainly never been blown in before, so it was safe to assume, he thought, that it was merely some accident and that he'd just imagined it.
"This shows that the scholarship covers all of your tuition and books, but not housing. Now if you've signed up for financial aid then that'll come in within the next couple of weeks and it's nothing to worry about..." the assistant looked up at Clark, whose eyes were welling with tears. He CLEARLY had never been far from home and had no idea what financial aid was by the confused look on his face.
"Look, why don't you come back here? We've got a computer you can use and we'll try to straighten this all out..." he offered. Really no one was supposed to be behind the desk that wasn't an employee, but he was willing to make an exception. Clark didn't say anything, just nodded and the assistant directed Clark to the side of the office, where he let him in. That was the first time Dick Grayson saw all of Clark Kent. Like something out of a GI Joe catalogue, Clark was built to an almost scientific perfection. 6'2", broad shouldered, huge chest, with biceps that looked like his shoulders had swallowed footballs and a waist like a 16 year old. The only way Dick could describe him was that he seemed freakishly beautiful. As they shook hands, Dick noticed a real warmth and gentleness about Clark. Something in Clark's eyes, much brighter blue than his own seemed well...very honest. While Dick looked up to see if Clark had perhaps been signed up for financial aid by a high school counselor, Clark looked on eagerly.
"Almost there Clark," Dick said. Clark looked at the assistant closely. The boy's eyes were a lovely sapphire color, framed with long, thick eyelashes. There was a sadness there as well, but Clark couldn't figure out what. Dick noticed Clark looking and blushed. Was GI Clark checking him out? Clark seemed to have no inhibitions at all and stared openly at Dick as he kept typing.
It turned out that there had been no financial aid set up for Clark for the term and so they set about looking for other options. The housing office agreed to postpone Clark's rent payment until the following month. However Clark couldn't help but feel distraught. He hated money, hated the thought of it. He had never been particularly any good at handling money, but since her never had a whole lot of it, he never really worried about it. Ma had always taken care of that kind of stuff. He felt so alone and abandoned. Why had this happened? If he couldn't come up with the money would he be sent home? Clark started shaking and his eyes misted over again. Dick noticed this and closed his aid window, taking Clark into the back room and closing the door. Clark started weeping and Dick, though almost a full six inches shorter and smaller in stature, patted Clark on the back, reassuring him that things would work out. Much to Dick's surprise, Clark took him into a bear hug and squeezed him and sobbed into his shoulder. Dick let him cry for a while and held him there until he stopped. As Dick's hands rubbed Clark's back he noticed that Clark was more built than he'd thought. It seemed that Mr. Kent had muscles ON muscles back there. Where was this guy from? Eventually Clark stopped. Dick walked over to the sink and got a napkin and a glass of water. Clark drank it thankfully and wiped his face off. Dick put his hand on Clark's shoulder.
"You know Clark, it really is going to be fine. We'll figure out something," Dick offered. Clark smiled. This young man was being so kind and thoughtful and Clark didn't even know his name.
"What's your name?" Clark asked. Dick was shocked. Hadn't they gone over this?
"Um, I'm Richard Grayson, but you can call me Dick," he gave Clark his hand. "Nice to meet you Dick, I'm Clark," Clark shook Dick's hand heartily.
"Oh, that's awful." Dick said, making a face. Dick and Clark, Dick Clark, bleah.
"What? You of all people shouldn't be criticizing names, Dick," Clark said defensively.
"No, it's not that. It's Dick...Clark? Dick Clark, you know...?"
Insert cricket sound effect here. Clark must not get out much...or ever...since the advent of televised New Year's parties at least.
Dick rolled his eyes.
"Never mind Clark. I like your name just fine," Dick explained then continued. "So, since you'll be living in the med and sport dorm AKA "Madison Hall", I'll be seeing you around. I've got to work still for another hour, but let me see if I can't find someone to take you there now. It's kind of maze-like inside, so it's best if you go with someone the first time. Dick reopened his window and leaned out on the counter, his pert, muscular bubble-butt in the air. Clark blushed as he thought of things he'd like to alone with Dick.
"AC!" Dick yelled out the window. Soon, a young man came padding over, his blonde hair all spiked and wet, drying it as he went with a towel. He was dressed in loose fitting green university-issue sweat pants and a white hoodie with big yellow letters across his chest spelling STERN SPORT. AC and Dick exchanged some looks before he made it to Dick's window.
"AC this is Clark Kent here on football scholarship, Clark this is AC Orin the fastest swimmer this side of the continent," Clark and AC shook hands and AC smiled warmly up at Clark drinking him in.
"AC would you mind showing Clark to his room? It's the same as yours only on the 16th floor. Clark, AC lives on the 17th. It gets noisy up there sometimes but I'm sure you'll live with it," Dick said, smirking. As AC and Clark turned to leave Dick whimpered slightly at the sight of Clark's perfect twin mounds trapped as they were in the denim fabric of his jeans, pressing for escape, each one bulging in turn as he walked away. AC heard it and turned and looked at Dick who nodded his head towards Clark's rear end and made grabbing motions with his hands. AC looked at Clark's backside and then looked back at Dick mouthing the words "Oh my God!"
Clark was happy that everyone seemed so eager to help him here. He followed AC to his dorm and, upon finding that the elevators were broken (apparently a common occurrence in Madison) he followed AC up the stairs to his room. On the way up, Clark enjoyed the view of AC's firm buttocks filling the back of his sweats as they climbed and climbed. AC began to slow down around the fifteenth floor. Clark thought "Man, if only he knew, I could fly him up two floors and carry him to his apartment," but there were things, Clark realized that no one could know. Not about his amazing strength and ability to fly and definitely not about his fantasies. Fantasies he'd had since he was old enough to realize that touching himself felt wonderful. Fantasies that filled his head with images of men, strapping and strong, covering his body with their tongues, of orgies and massages and oral pleasures. As was customary, Clark started to feel his temperature rising and his blood start to race as his thoughts turned to sexual images. The images of his fellow teammates in and out of their clothes, in the showers, with the coach: his muscular, manly chest and stomach covered with that thick pelt of dark fur. He thought about how they all had been discovered by the assistant gym coach together in a big, soapy, grinding heap and the coach he'd loved for so many years had been sent away. Not to jail, just...away. That's why he couldn't tell. He didn't want to be sent away. Remembering the feelings he'd had for his coach and teammates and the intimate moments they'd had together, exercising together, building their bodies together, Clark started absentmindedly rubbing his hands up and down his eight-pack.
As they reached Clark's door, AC cursed his decision not to wear a strap or something under the unresisting fabric of his sweatpants. Briefs would do nothing to hide the tumescent member now threatening to breach the waistline of his unders. Clark couldn't keep doing things like that, or he'd have everyone on the upper floors crazy and leaking cock honey like he was. Trembling, AC let Clark into his room, whom it would seem, was caught up in a distant memory which distracted him enough for AC to adjust himself as not to be too obviously erect in Clark's presence. The room was what they liked to refer to as a "shoebox". It was beige and rectangle and...beige. Did I mention beige? Everything about the room was boring: basic twin bed, desk, chair, mini-fridge, sink, closet, dresser and window. Blah.
"There aren't a lot of frills here Clark, it's pretty basic."
"What are you talking about? This is awesome!"
"Awesome?" AC thought. "Damn! `Awesome'=straight guy. Ah well, there're always those communal showers at the gym..."
Clark bounded over to the window to look out.
"My God look at this view! It's so beautiful! Look at the hills and the trees and the houses!"
AC smiled. Clark was so disarmingly sweet and so real, like a big puppy; a big, hot puppy that he wanted to get it on with. Dick was right, that was some kind of nice ass he had on him.
"Clark, I've gotta go. You gonna be alright up here?" AC asked, adjusting himself again. Clark didn't respond.
"Clark!" AC yelled. Clark turned around.
"Wha...?"
"Are you going to be all right up here?" AC said, punctuating each word.
"Oh yeah, I'll be fine. This is all my stuff, so..."
"Alright bud. I'm gonna be up in 1722 so come by and say hi sometime, okay?"
Clark smiled and nodded and then waved as AC closed his door.
"Tongue's on the floor AC, " he heard behind him. AC whirled around to see Bruce there. Bruce was a kind of broody/moody type. Med/Science double major. He was moderately cute with big, expressive eyes and long black hair that he topped off with some kind of black, crocheted skullcap. Bruce's nose was in a book as he walked down the hall, his long black waistcoat flapping dramatically behind him.
"Shutup Bruce," AC said harshly. If there was anything AC didn't need it was snide remarks from a social outcast like Bruce Wayne.
"Bitchass," AC mumbled under his breath as he made his way up to his room. As was customary for AC, he stripped to nothing as soon as he was inside his apartment. His lithe, firm body was something to behold. He was 6', 195 lbs of lean muscle with legs for miles and a thick member to be proud of. He checked out his body in the half, mirror he had. He was a swimmer, and his body reflected this. But he was much more than just any swimmer. AC had been born of noble blood to a race of oceanic exiles that lived on an island under the water...Atlantis. As an Atlantean, AC would have been privy to many things including kingship. However, due to a less than royal birth and his "unlucky" golden blonde hair, he had been cast out of the kingdom as a baby. He was fine now though, able to get through school with the help of his surrogate father. He was ridiculously fast in the water and had to hold back from beating his opponents too quickly or he'd come under suspicion for using "performance enhancing drugs". He didn`t know of any performance enhancing drugs that let you talk to dolphins and pick up ocean liners, but he was careful just the same. AC's body was taught and muscled, not like Dick's was muscled. Dick's body was more the voluptuous peasant stock of east block Europe. Big, and bulging and muscles sticking out everywhere, pronounced but softer. AC's were hard, rigid plates of muscle, almost flat to his body; a body more like Bruce Lee's than the Abercrombie boys that Dick's body represented. AC worked out everyday in the pool, sometimes twice. He always felt safer and stronger in the water, more alive and virile. AC's mind wandered as his hand slid down his flat stomach to his dark blonde pubic hair, trimmed nicely above his fat 7" penis. AC had seen his share of cock; most recently he'd been seeing a LOT of Dick Grayson's cock. AC's was almost an inch bigger in circumference, though Dick's piece was about an inch longer. AC imagined Dick there now, kissing him, sucking his perky, soft, pink nipples, licking his plum sized balls as he stroked AC's stomach. AC pounded his fist down on his cock, jerking it, the veins turning an angry purple as volumes of cock juice flowed over the head of his uncut penis. He pulled back the foreskin and rubbed the juice around, moaning at the pleasure it sent through his body. He could feel the orgasm mounting in his balls, the head of his penis overflowing with precum.
Suddenly there was a knock at the door.
END CHAPTER 1
Let me know what you think! tylerstjames@msn.com Good, bad, ugly, all critiques welcome.
These characters are property of DC Comics and affiliates.