Tempest in a Teacup Chapter five: The Man of His Dreams Evan Andrews 2024
This is a fan fiction.
All characters depicted in it belong to and are trademarked and copyrighted by DC Comics and/or its subsidiaries. I am not related to the company and make no claim of ownership over the characters. I've given up trying to figure out where my stories fit into the DC continuity anymore.
For what it's worth, my inspiration for the master of the palace Tiger Shroff, in his role as the Flying Jatt.
The story depicts males in sexual situations, mostly with other males. If that offends you, if you are underage, or if reading such is illegal where you are please stop reading now. Thank you.
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When Garth arose the next morning (stark naked for a change), he discovered another chest in the bedroom, but one that sat alongside the bed in easy reach. Opening the chest he found an assortment of sex toys and lubricants.
`Interesting,' the Atlantean thought, and he shut the lid.
They were a gift from someone, a not so subtle hint, and Garth was resolved to put them to good use.
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The next evening after dinner, Garth retrieved the small chest from the bedroom and put on another, more elaborate display in the courtyard.
A strip show started the proceedings, again, but this time Garth sat down on the lip of the pool once he was naked.
While his left hand started stroking his hard cock, the right hand took a pre-lubed dildo from the chest and slowly slid it into his ass.
Garth had been fucked, occasionally, but never with anything as big as this dildo and never by himself.
The hero traded off the dildo to his left hand, and used the right to fish a male lips stroker out of the toy basket. After sliding the fake mouth over the head of his dick, the Atlantean grabbed onto a penis head pacifier, putting it in his mouth to suck while he went back to working over his cock and anal cunt.
Fuck! Garth had never felt free enough to pursue this side of his sexuality so blatantly. When he thought about it, the only person who knew Garth's body well enough to drive his wild this way (aside from Dick and Roy and maybe Phantom Lover) was himself, and using that knowledge he played an erotic symphony on his flesh—enjoying every second.
As the evening's show progressed, Garth tried tighter strokers which drove his cock mad with lust. He added nipple suckers to his pectorals, scrotum stretchers to ape what he did with his hand when he came, but most importantly he buggered himself with longer and thicker dildoes.
"Agh! Agh! Agh!" Garth whimpered.
Oceanus have mercy, but this feels almost too good,' Garth though. Almost as good as...'
The hero looked up to the hanging lamps and said, "This would all be so much more satisfying if you joined me."
For a second, Garth felt that someone might actually step forward and take over ravishing the young hero's body. Instead he was left in sole possession of the center ring, driving himself to a devastating solo orgasm.
When his cock had finished its own show, Garth's lazy fingers trailed the thick sperm over his belly for several minutes. He sucked the salty-sweet mess of his fingers hoping to draw Phantom Lover out of hiding, but to no avail. Whoever had been watching the hero's show of licentious abandon (and he was sure someone had been), they were leaving him to accept the accolades.
Sighing, Garth sluiced his body clean and, leaving the discarded toys by the pool, pulled himself to his feet and pulled his discarded trunks on again before seeking the intimacy of the bedroom.
Before he entered the room, though, Garth looked over his shoulder and gave his unseen audience a come hither look.
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This night things would come to a head. Garth was resolved in that, and he stayed awake, sitting up with his back against one of the columns. He feigned sleep, though, his eyes closed, until he felt the touch of a familiar hand on his bulge. Suddenly, Garth's right hand shot out and grabbed hold of the man's wrist.
"Now," Garth said, "Let's see who you really are. Bring up the lights!"
The man laughed, "Clever. Well, then..."
The lights came up all the way, and...
"Behold!" Phantom Lover said.
Garth stared at the handsome South Asian or Arab stud with his mouth open in surprise. Phantom Lover wore nothing more than harem pants, and his hard dick tented them obscenely. But Garth did not recognize the face.
"Who are you?" Garth asked.
"Don't you recognize me?" Phantom Lover said. "No, I suppose you wouldn't. I've been saving this face up. You know me as the Sandman."
Sandman?! Garth ran over what he remembered about this man. The master of dreams, as changeable and eternals as the sands on the beach—and this stud was the lord of the palace? Garth supposed it made sense. Here, the villain—wait, was he truly a villain? Garth wasn't sure anymore—had created a sensual hideaway that he'd shared with one of his traditional enemies. And all those nights of anonymous pleasure... True, Sandman now appeared in the guise of an Arabian prince, but he could take (and had taken) many forms. Garth knew this, of course, but he was oddly pleased that Sandman had taken the effort. It was one hell of a seduction.
"Why?" the Atlantean asked, because he had to know.
"Why have I been taking advantage of you in the night, or why did I chose you to take advantage of?" Sandman asked.
"The latter."
"Well, that's a stupid question?! Have you looked in the mirror? In that Tempest costume you're fucking irresistible."
"But Nightwing..."
"Nightwing? Fuck Nightwing. I'm tired of everyone thinking that boy's the hottest thing in spandex."
"But he is," Garth said.
"He's top 10, I'll allow that, but let's just say I have a more refined palate. And come on. I'm not so stupid as to pursue him. Nightwing, Robin, whatever you call him and cute as he is, automatically comes with more baggage than I'm willing to face!"
`And I don't,' Garth wondered.
"You come with different baggage," Sandman said, as if he'd read Garth's thoughts, "And while that might have been a consideration in the beginning, but as time went on, I began to see the man behind your brooding facade. And I realized that he was fascinating."
Sandman knelt next to the seated Garth and put a hand to the hero's cheek.
"You want me to tell you how often I've jerked off imaging myself bringing you pleasure?"
Garth started into Sandman's amber eyes.
"Am I a prisoner here?" the Atlantean asked.
"Well, maybe... Would you find that exciting? But... no. I never want any lover of mine to think himself a prisoner with no way out," Sandman said.
"So, what do you want?"
"Garth," because of course Sandman would know that name, "I'm going to throw that question right back into your face. I've known about you in a general way forever. An outcast in Atlantis--continually being looked down upon due to wretched superstitions. And, admit it, you never really fit in with the Titans, either, did you? Especially not once Raven stuck her oar in and reformed the group without even asking you to tag along. And on top of that you're looked down on by the Justice League as well—as if they were the be all and end all of herodom. Where's the "justice" in that? They (starting with Aquaman) trained you, and now that you're grown they just toss you to the curb instead of embracing you as a brother?"
"Nightwing and Troia..." Garth started, but then he stopped. Dick had Kory, Donna had Terry, Garth had... well, nobody. Not now.
Sandman ran a caress down Garth's cheek
"Exactly," he said, "So, I ask you, would you rather go back and live with I guess we're stuck with you'? Or would you rather take a chance on I want you'?"
"So, it's like `The Lady or the Tiger'?"
"Well, I don't know about that simile. Tula was a lady, certainly, but she's gone. Do you think I would make a good...," and Sand Man growled like a tiger, which made Garth smile.
"Like I said," Sandman continued, "It's all your choice."
"And if I do want to go back to the Titans and the JLA?"
Sandman looked as if he knew that question had to be coming and was dreading answering it.
"Then I will be very disappointed, but I will take you back. Just think about it; that's all I ask."
Sandman fell back on his haunches, and in the ensuing moment of pregnant silence, a desert breeze once more gave animation to the wispy curtains. Seriously, what did Garth want?
When he thought about it, Garth realized that, in a way, nobody had ever bothered to ask him that question. Aquaman had taken on the wardship of an abandoned child before Garth was old enough to make a choice. Trained to be a worthy companion to the king and the superhero, Garth had followed Aquaman's lead, even into interactions with the land dwellers. That was where and when he'd fallen in with his fellow sidekicks and later followed their leads during their teenage heroes club adventures. When they'd all gotten old enough to need to start making their own decisions, he found the friendships of years taking second place. It hurt. Running back to Aquaman, Garth found a new protégé in residence, and that hurt too. After that, Garth was truly alone, and, if the truth be told, the young hero was seriously tired of that. Maybe it was time for him to make a change and to do so on his own terms.
Garth looked long and hard at the Sandman, kneeling there, his tented harem pants now showing the stain of precum. Villain or not, he was sincere, honest, and open to being hurt. He was what Garth had been missing for years now.
The dark young hero Garth reached out to Sandman.
"Take my hand," the Atlantean said.
Sandman took the offered hand, trepidatiously, and Garth pulled him onto the mattress alongside him.
"I've decided, Sandman. I choose you."
The look on Sandman's face was priceless.
"I have no idea where this relationship may lead, but I'm willing to deal with any issues as they come up. More importantly, I'm willing to face them with you."
"Garth... I think I never loved you before this."
"And now you do, so come to bed."