Fic: Rainbow's Freedom (Sanctuary Arc) (8/17) Part 2

[bradygirl_12]

Title: Rainbow's Freedom (Sanctuary Arc) (8/17) (Part 2)
Author: BradyGirl
Characters/Pairings: Clark/Bruce, Alfred, Ollie Queen, Harvey Dent, Dax Mantell
Series Notes: In the 23rd century, Earth is a technologically-advanced society that practices slavery. The wealthy freeman Bruce Wayne acquires a highly-prized bedslave whom he learns to cherish...but can he every truly love a slave? And will it all be moot as a weak abolitionist movement slowly gathers strength while the Galactic Empire remains in a perpetual state of Cold War? The entire series can be found here.

Categories: Drama, AU

Rating: (this chapter): PG-13
Warnings: None
Spoilers: None
Summary: A gentleman's Code of Honor should never be broken. 
Date Of Completion: February 21, 2007
Date Of Posting: April 3, 2007
Disclaimer: I don't own 'em, DC does, more's the pity.
Word Count: 1417 (Total: 2889)
Feedback welcome and appreciated.
Author's Note: Once in awhile an original character will slip into the group up there in the Characters/Pairings line, so if you don't recognize the name, that's probably why. :)

The first part of this chapter can be found here. 

“A gentleman should always be honorable

 in all of his dealings, especially

 with those who are his friends.”

 

Bertram Ellison Adams

“The Gentleman’s Code”

1832 C.E.

 

VIII

 

HONOR SERVED

Bruce was caught in a quandary.  He could certainly refuse the request.  He had the right, but Harvey was an old friend as well as a business colleague.  It was a simple request, unlike asking that Clark disrobe or be loaned to him for a night.  If he refused, it could be construed as a mild insult.

 

He felt Ollie’s supportive presence beside him.  Ollie could have asked for the same privilege but had refrained from doing so.

 

Bruce made a decision.  Clark was his to protect but he was a slave and there were certain codes of honor among gentlemen.  He disliked the thought of hurting Clark but insulting an old friend was not very honorable.

 

“Go ahead,” he said stiffly, arms crossed.  As Harvey reached out to touch Clark, Bruce said, “Just a taste.”

 

Harvey looked at him with amusement but nodded.  Bruce felt his muscles tense as Harvey lifted Clark’s chin.  The dark glasses had to be left on, because he had no permission to lift the Veil, so to speak.  Harvey’s thumb traced Clark’s jawline all the way down his throat.  Bruce could see Clark’s tension, but his slave had been well-trained.  Resistance was not only forbidden, it would disgrace his Master.

 

Harvey drew Clark in for a long, deep kiss, enjoying every minute of his opportunity, his hand caressing the slave’s ass as he pressed Clark close.  Bruce’s expression was thunderous but he said nothing.  Ollie and Dax exchanged looks.

 

Harvey broke the kiss, stepping back.  He knew not to push it.

 

“Mmm, high quality indeed.  Well, Dax and I have to take a meeting.  Care to join us for lunch later?”

 

“No, thanks, I have plans.”

 

“A pity.  Nice to see you, Bruce, Ollie.”

 

Harvey and Dax walked down to the trading floor, Ollie saying, “Our brokers are waiting.”

 

“Right.”

 

Bruce felt anger: at himself, at Clark for making him feel that way, at Harvey for imposing on their friendship.  He looked at his slave.

 

Clark was still standing motionless.  Bruce gently grasped his hand, feeling the slight trembling.  He took a deep breath, then relaxed when Clark squeezed his hand. “Let’s go,” he said to Ollie as he released Clark.  He knew his slave would follow.

 

When they reached a conference room, Bruce dithered.  If he brought Clark inside, his slave would have to kneel at his feet.  Seating him like a freeman in a non-social setting was a breach of etiquette.  On the other hand, he felt uneasy about leaving Clark by himself.  If someone touched him, he was forbidden to resist but he could yell for help since Bruce’s property was being violated.  

 

“We shouldn’t be that long,” Bruce said.  He reached into his pocket and pressed a card into Clark’s hand. “If you get hungry or thirsty, there are some vending machines down the hall.  This building’s too old for servos.”

 

Clark silently took the debit card, his eyes unreadable behind the glasses.  Bruce followed Ollie into the conference room, closing the door behind him.

 

& & & & & &

 

Bruce and Ollie shook hands as they emerged from the conference room.  Their successful deal was going to be highly profitable for the both of them.

 

“Well, I’m off to Star City,” Ollie said.

 

“Care to stay for lunch?”

 

“Thanks, but I want to get back in time to take Dinah to the Stones concert.” 

 

“What, is Mick Jagger’s great-great-great-grandson the lead singer for the band now?” Ollie smirked. “How is Dinah?”

 

“She’s great.  Her flower shop’s expanding into a chain.  You may be seeing one open up here in Gotham soon.”

 

“Tell her to steer clear of Pamela Isley.”

 

“That woman who calls herself Poison Ivy?”

 

“Yes.” Bruce grinned. “She’s not so bad.  Doesn’t like the Government at all.  She thinks they’re destroying the environment.”

 

“She might be right.” Ollie crossed his arms. “It’s a good thing we have population control.  The Earth’s resources could be strained too much if we hadn’t colonized other planets.”

 

“Looks like that new hero of yours is into the Gaia movement.  He’s all dressed in green.”

 

“My new hero?” asked Ollie in amusement.

 

“He’s located in Star City, isn’t he?”

 

“True.” He looked down the corridor. “Where’s your Prize?”

 

Bruce experienced panic as he saw the empty corridor, but clamped it down.  He was far too emotional when it came to Clark.

 

“He probably just got something to eat.”

 

“You’re right.  Here he comes.”

 

Clark was indeed walking down the hall, carrying various items.

 

“Are you finished with your meeting, Master?”

 

“I am…Clark.” It was the first time he had uttered his slave’s name in front of anyone besides Alfred.  Ollie looked pleased.  Knowing a prized slave’s name was an honor. “Are you ready for lunch?”

 

Clark nodded. “I did get us some snacks but we can save them.  I did get bottled water.  I got one for you, too, Mr. Queen,” he said shyly, emboldened by Bruce’s use of his name in front of Ollie.

 

Ollie smiled as he took the proffered water bottle. “Thank you…Clark.”

 

Bruce felt a rush of affection for his friend.

 

“Oh, and I got sesame crackers for you, Master.  Alfred said you liked that flavor very much.”

 

“I do.  Thank you.”

 

All three drank from their water bottles, then Ollie said, “Well, I have to get to the airport.  I’ll take a raincheck on that lunch, Bruce.”

 

“Excellent.” He looked at Ollie. “Honor Served.”

 

Ollie inclined his head with a smile. “Honor Served.” He looked at the quiet man beside him. “Goodbye, Clark.”

 

“Goodbye, Mr. Queen.”

 

Bruce felt pride in the friend who acknowledged his slave, and the gentle charm of that slave.  He thought of the tasting earlier and pushed the sudden guilt away.

 

“Come on, Clark.”

 

& & & & & &

 

The restaurant was not one of the very exclusive ones that Bruce frequented, but still one of the best in town.  It was a family-owned, and he knew Claire and George Standish well.  Their family had owned The Country Kitchen for generations, and served American standards in creative ways.  Bruce was enjoying his roast beef sandwich and steak fries while Clark was happy with his chicken sandwich and vegetable fries, both sharing an assortment of vegetables that were locally-grown. 

 

Bruce had decided on the laidback restaurant instead of an upscale establishment.  He sensed that Clark would be more comfortable here.

 

You’re getting soft, Wayne.  Why are you so concerned over what a slave wants?  He’s here to serve you, nothing more.

 

Bruce sighed.  Total bull, of course.

 

“Did you accomplish everything you wanted to in your meeting?”

 

“Yes.” Bruce was happy that the deal had been relatively easy to consummate. “I guess you could say we’re celebrating.”

 

Clark beamed.

 

They topped off their meal with apple pie, Clark declaring, “It’s good, but Alfred’s is still the best.”

 

“I’ll have to agree with you there.”

 

As they left the restaurant, they were suddenly ambushed by dozens of paparazzi and reporters.

 

“Mr. Wayne, can you tell us what the name of your bedslave is?”

 

“When did you purchase him?”

 

“Why after all these years did you decide to buy one?”

 

Bruce dodged the reporters, tugging Clark by the hand.  They managed to clamber into the limousine before the pack closed in again.

 

“Whew!” Bruce said. “Reporters can be bloodhounds sometimes.”

 

Clark nodded.

 

& & & & & &

 

“C’mon, whore, let’s see what you’ve got.”

 

The heavily accented Rigellian voices were mocking as hands tore at his clothes, glowing eyes and laughing mouths closing in on him.  Terror leaped up in his heart, closing his throat and making it difficult to breathe.

 

He ran, begging for help but no one answered.  Shadows slithered around him, his heart pounding as mocking laughter rang in his ears. 

 

He tripped, crying out as his knees jarred on hard ground.

 

“Just a taste, slut.”

 

The mouths and hands descended on him…

 

& & & & & &

 

The scream ripped through the room as Clark jerked up, muscles rigid and heart threatening to pound out of his chest.  Strong arms grabbed him and he fought, terror rising blindly as he stared into darkness.

 

“Clark!  Clark!  It’s all right!  Shh, it’s okay.”

 

Clark gasped, nausea sweeping over him.  He clutched Bruce’s arms, trembling as Bruce pulled him close, stroking his hair and rubbing his back while he kept up a patter of soothing words.

 

Safe. 

 

He closed his eyes and held on tightly.