A/N: This is for those who are intrigued by or already ship Connor and Komand'r aka Superfire (not sure if that's the official ship name or not, but it's what I'm going with). If you've seen the episode, you might have wondered how they got to the fun part. Well, this is my attempt at adding in a bit more context. I also made a tiny little twist to what happened in the episode concerning some other characters. You'll see when you read it. Hope you enjoy! Thanks for reading!

Disclaimer: Superboy and Blackfire belong to their respective owners, DC Comics, and their individual creators. Copyright infringement is not intended.

GOTHAM CITY—

Breath escaped from partially open lips, and fogged the window with each quarter mile they drove. The wipers were going; the hiss of traffic driving down wet roads provided the only means of distraction. He gripped the wheel tighter until his knuckles had gone white. Occasionally his shadowed jaw ticked, and it increased in frequency when he peeked at her out the corner of his eye. Her blouse was wet, so were her jeans.

Their heads turned toward one another at the same time. Loamy brown crashing into white-hot silver blue. The rain had saturated his black hair that he finger combed off his forehead offering an unobstructed view of a face that had stirred her curiosity since day one. A face that made her pulse race and thighs press together. She curled her fingers around the strap of the seatbelt because otherwise they might reach out and touch some part of him whether it be his hand, shoulder, or his muscled forearm. She swallowed and the sound seemed magnified in the close confines of the vehicle.

He wondered what she was thinking. Was she thinking about how much longer until they were home? Was she hoping that they'd hit traffic and have more time together? Nah. He knew better. She was probably thinking about unfinished business happening twenty-six lightyears away from here, her next fight with her sister, or maybe she was thinking of getting out of her wet clothes. He tried so hard not think about her being in wet clothes. Despite everything, he couldn't help but wonder if she was feeling the same attraction he was.

He exited off the thoroughfare and drove for several miles in total silence and in total darkness. The lights from the city had faded away and they were in rural territory where if you looked hard enough, you might see a coyote.

He grappled with something witty, intriguing—hell a useless fact to say. This was something Cadmus and then later the Titans hadn't trained him on. He knew how to speak with the press, knew how to inspire kids. He knew what to say to talk someone off of a ledge, but he didn't know what to say to a beautiful woman who made him feel things he had never felt before. Maybe they could talk about that? No, that would just show his inexperience which she might be aware of. Great. She probably thought he was lame. Just as panic at his own ineptness was trying to kick in, he was rolling the jeep up to the manor. He had gotten them home safe.

The rain was still coming down. A drizzle now. Cutting the engine, he met her gaze in the darkened interior of the jeep. The rhythmic movement of their chests was in sync, in and out. Her lips parted a little and he wet the seam of his own.

"Don't move," was his only warning as he shot out of the car, quickly rounding the hood, and opened her door. Wordlessly he plucked her out of the jeep and ran them towards the front door.

Her feet touched down in the foyer, and it took a minute for her to realize he had carried her from the car to the house. His speed was exhilarating.

"You should take your clothes off. You're wet. I-I mean, you should change out of those wet clothes," Superboy stammered.

Stifling a smile, Blackfire cocked an eyebrow, "You should do the same. I'm not the only one that's dripping."

Superboy looked down at himself as if he couldn't feel his damp clothing sticking to him. "Right. I actually need to park the jeep in the garage first. You go on up, get comfortable."

"The others…are they here?"

Superboy listened for a moment and shook his head. "It's just us."

"Good."

Feeling bold, Connor said, "We could have dinner together."

"Maybe."

Extending her arms, arching her back, Blackfire stretched the kinks out of her muscles, sighing in delicious relief but groaning a moment later because she was still too keyed up.

Feeling the heat of a pair of eyes on her, she looked out the corner of her own catching him in the act, and grinned a little when he quickly turned his head away not wanting to be caught. Too late.

It had been like this for days. Since she came here and her darling older sister warned the males of this hovel that she wasn't to be trusted, to sleep with one eye open, that she was a harbinger of chaos. Kory was too kind, she thought darkly. But a game of cat and mouse had ensued, a push and pull that had lit something within she rarely felt.

Excitement.

Her walk toward the massive staircase was not intentionally provocative, it just was. She was always aware of her body but in this galaxy, particularly so. The lifeforms reminded her of her people on Tamaran, but Earthlings were so fragile, so ordinary, yet oddly interesting.

In one person's case, captivating.

Turning a corner on the stairs, she looked back to the foyer hoping to meet his gaze once more, but to her disappointment, Superboy was gone.

{::}

The rain had given way to fog as the long hours of night crept by minute by minute. Somewhere in Gotham another Tamaranean was dancing the night away in the arms of Nightwing, while a shapeshifter scoured the city streets looking for an unstable former sidekick turned murderer. Blackfire was concerned about none of it.

Sequestered in her bedroom, she stood in front of the cheval mirror studying the slope of her forehead, the roundness and angle of her cheeks, the depth of her dark brown eyes that were two shades darker than her rich skin, the pout of her lips. She had showered, moisturized, perfumed her body, and now was donning a designer black dress that stopped just below the knee. She might be accused of putting in too much effort for a simple dinner, but she was a princess, the should-be queen. Wearing and looking the best was required, and she saw no need to slack off in that regard. Plus, she wanted a reaction out of Superboy. His virility was much too strong to ignore. She had done her best, but she was done playing things her sister's way.

At least for tonight.

Leaving her room, she sauntered through the halls of the tiny palace, her nose guiding her to another richly decorated room that was composed of dark walls, a tray ceiling trimmed in gold, and low lighting that made the table glow. And there seated on the broad side of the sleek mahogany table in a tight black T-shirt and a fresh pair of jeans was Superboy who jumped to his feet.

"You came!"

"Though I can be accused of many things, one thing I could never deny was upholding etiquette. You extended a dinner invitation. It would have been rude not to accept. And judging from this…" she eyed the spread, "it is a feast fit for a queen."

"And a very hungry clone."

Blackfire stepped into the sunken living room, moving toward the chair at the head of the table, but Superboy beat her to it, and pulled it out for her.

"You look nice." He was a tad too close, lips hovering right above her ear.

Blackfire arched an imperial brow as she glanced at him over her shoulder, "Me? Or the garment?"

Connor's cheeks turned pink.

Chuckling lowly, she sat down, and took inventory of what they would be dining on: baklava, shawarma, fattoush, and baba ghanoush. "Did you prepare all of this, or did you order from, what's it called, Udder Eats?"

He bit back a laugh, "Uber Eats, and yes I did cook everything."

"You're an impressive chef…Superboy," she complimented while playing with her ring. A habit Koriand'r was known for and one Blackfire stopped once she realized she was doing it.

His chest swelled at the compliment but then he frowned a moment later because she referred to him by codename. Keeping firm lines of distance between them, which was the last thing he wanted. So he remedied that.

"Connor. You can call me Connor."

Blackfire whipped the cloth napkin out of the ring and draped it across her lap. "Since it's just the two of us here, you can call me Komand'r. It's one allowance I don't mind granting."

Smiling, Connor retook his seat. Things were seemingly off to a promising start. "Don't be shy, dig in."

Things were quiet as they both tucked into their food. Everything that Komand'r tasted burst with flavor on her tongue, so much so she may have moaned a little. Tried her best to keep it as quiet as possible, but Connor heard every munch, every mewl, every sigh of pleasure.

"Is it good?" he asked.

Komand'r shrugged, "It's acceptable."

"I'll take that as high praise," he joked.

"It is."

"Ever had Lebanese cuisine before? Wait, why am I asking that? You were locked up the moment you came here. I can only imagine what they fed you."

"If you could classify the paltry provisions they gave me as sustenance, then sure they fed me," she scoffed. A beat later she confessed, "At first they wanted to see how long I could last without food or drink."

Connor paused mid-chew, swallowed and said softly, "They…they did the same to me too. At the lab where I was created. I lasted two weeks before I started crashing."

Komand'r picked up a wineglass and gulped the contents hoping to alleviate a bad taste rising in the back of her throat, "I lasted a week and a half. After that came the sensory deprivation. Fun times. But you know, no matter what they put my body through, it didn't really compare to how they doled out punishment on my world. Don't get me wrong, it was still unpleasant, but it hurt less because it was being done by people I wouldn't have blinked if they were suddenly killed."

"I'm sorry that was done to you."

Komand'r smiled faintly. "Yeah, well."

"We don't have to talk about this," he said once realizing he was making Komand'r uncomfortable by reminding her of her imprisonment.

"Fine with me," she was happy to get off the subject. Thinking about her captivity made her feel weak, and showing weakness in front of these strangers was unacceptable. Even if she wanted to bond with someone who had an idea of what she had gone through, she knew trusting anyone would be a mistake. It was best to forget about that and move on to something she actually cared to discuss. "So…outside of risking your life for total strangers, what do you do to…relax?"

Connor licked his thumb after piling more food on his plate. He stared at Komand'r and swallowed thickly again, "Play video games. Train. Spar. Try out new recipes. Build things, read books about quantum mechanics and The Dichotomy Paradox."

"Sounds fascinating." She had no idea what he was talking about. "And after enriching your mind and perfecting your body," Komand'r made sure he saw her giving him a thorough once-over, "what do you do to release…do you have a mate?" She was done tip-toeing around this issue.

"No. I'm not seeing anyone."

"No harem?"

Feeling heat rise to his cheeks, Connor stuffed his mouth with food and shook his head, averting his gaze a little.

Komand'r placed her elbows on the table, "Do you want to know how I release tension, detox as Earthlings like to say?"

"Sure."

"I could probably show you better than I can tell you."

"Show me."

"Are you sure about that? I'm not sure my sister would approve…"

"She's not here at the moment."

"Very true," Komand'r fluidly rose to her feet and sat next to Connor, draping her arm along the back of his chair. "On my world," her voice lowered, "I would play a game—well hold a tournament of sorts. Whoever was the strongest, the fastest, the smartest, the victor would be permitted to my chamber, and I would give them a prize. A prize that could last for multiple days on end."

Connor's mouth had gone dry as his gaze drifted between her feline shaped dark brown eyes to her enticing lips, "W-what sort of prize?"

Her first kiss shocked him. Connor didn't know what to do because he hadn't been sure it had actually happened. That Komand'r had kissed him. Had given him his first kiss ever. He sat completely still, frozen, but then as if a switch had been flipped he quickly pulled her lush body against his, and pressed his eager mouth to hers, deepening the kiss.

Her kiss felt like what he imagined the creation of a planet would be. A heady, galactic subsuming of geothermal formations, of clashing atoms, and the release of turbulent energy. Kissing her was cataclysmic.

But also so sweet.

They were standing a moment later, her arms weaving around his shoulders, clinging to him, drawing him even closer. Her leg rose and wrapped around his waist and Komand'r could feel the length of him pressed against her middle. Solid, turgid, ripe for the taking. They went tumbling backwards into a wall, laughing, and still kissing one another. Connor pulled away for a second to make sure this was okay, and at her slight nod, he rushed them upstairs.

He knew what was coming and his heart pounded in tandem as he tossed her gently on the bed. Within seconds he had Komand'r dressed down to nothing, her body bare before him, all curves and hard, erect points. Beautiful. She reached up and let her braids down.

Reaching behind him, Connor pulled his shirt off, unbuttoned his jeans, and they joined her dress on the floor.

Komand'r leaned forward, splaying her hand on his abs, trailing up, and stopped once she reached his throat. "Show me everything your mouth can do, Connor. And once I'm exhausted with that, use your dick."

Kissing her forehead, Connor agreed, "Yes, your highness."

{::}

Labored breathing met with the innocuous sound of blood dripping from the end of fingertips. Her body was rigid with awareness, yet she was virtually frozen in place, blinking as if coming out of a fog. Rearing her head back, clouds of breath puffed from her parted lips as she tried to draw air into her lungs. Tears flooded and sluiced down bruised cheeks.

Gritting her teeth, she stared at the gory tableau in front of her, writing it all into memory and incinerating her feelings on the matter for it was unbecoming to let it overwhelm her. The pain was an unsettling sensation like taking a jagged knife and dragging it across your skin, splitting it open, and severing nerves. She grappled with what she should do now although she knew what protocol dictated. However, protocol didn't always account for the emotional feedback and how to process the ugly truth. So she inched away, taking a simple step before taking another until there was just enough distance to make breathing easier. Her lips moved but words didn't follow, so she spun on her heels in a flurry of diaphanous robes intent to leave it behind, shuttered in a room that would be sealed shut forever.

Her footsteps carried her through the labyrinthine throne room heading straight for the Highgate, a massive balcony made up of a non-ferrous metal and interwoven with plant life. She stumbled forward, eyes glazed over, countenance devoid of any animation. She was as neutral as the faction to the south who had shut their borders and buried their heads in their philosophical clouds that war was debased and undignified. If they could see what had become of her territory, her home, her…clan, they would probably feel justified, and maybe even a little morbidly curious as to what it felt like to wrap your hands around a dear one's neck and squeeze until their throat caved in.

Orange sunlight bathed the land, bringing clarity to the catastrophic damage that had been done to the palace village. The Citadel had fed gluttonously, having had free reign to ravage, pillage, and feed their terrible hunger throughout the night unchecked. The stench of the dead, half-burned and partially regurgitated corpses of her people littered the ground, floated in the sea, made tears come to her eyes. The numbers of the dead and missing it would probably take one moon cycle to tally the loss.

Rage filled her anew. There were some survivors she saw assessing the damage, wailing over their murdered loved ones and friends, yelling for those they had been separated from knowing intuitively it was hopeless, but refusing to believe the truth. Death was everywhere and poisoning everything. So much suffering and sorrow. So much blood crying out for vengeance. Her bloodstained fingers wrapped around the filigree railing, her head falling forward, curtain of black and purple braids shielding her from the coming rays of morning and mourning.

The buzzing of voices which had been so discordant now was changing in cadence. The rumblings of grief were becoming a chanting of…acknowledgement? Her ears twitched and she looked up. Her presence on the Highgate had been noticed and heads were turning in her direction, feet were moving closer to the castle. They were staring at her, accusingly, and she backed up a step, a sliver of unbecoming fear spearing through her until she realized why they were staring at her.

They were staring because…she was wearing her mother's crown on her head.

Queen by matricide.

Long may she reign.

Her eyes fluttered opened. She lifted one hand expecting to see blood, but what she saw instead were her fingers intertwined with pale ones. Those fingers squeezed hers.

Komand'r frowned in confusion before turning her head, her deep brown eyes meeting concerned blue ones.

"Bad dream?" he asked in a raspy voice.

"No," she lied. Well, she would argue it was a partial lie. It wasn't a dream so much as a replay of an event that happened. One of many in her life that left her hands drenched in blood. It wouldn't have had to be that way if her hands had been bequeathed the ability her sister wielded. That was the crux of her issues.

The old shame came barreling back. The taunts, the hatred, the disappointment of those in the court, from her parents, from her own sister.

A distraction. That's what she needed.

Komand'r tossed off the blanket and sheet and climbed aboard her bedmate whose eyebrows jumped in surprise but then his features settled into a look of lusty anticipation as he grasped her hips. She had lost count of the times she mated with this one. She couldn't help but compare him to the males on Tamaran. He shared the coloring of the Valtr royal family of the north. Strength wise he was compatible maybe even stronger than the fiercest warlords. His stamina was impeccable, and so far he had shown very little reservation. Bed sport was one of the least destructive ways for her to work off steam, and Connor had proven to be sufficient. Adequate, she amended.

Yet a dizzying and unfathomable thought traipsed through her head of taking Connor as her consort, but that was impossible. Foolish. Unwise. He had a conscience, saw himself and was treated like a hero. If he knew who she really, honestly truly was, he wouldn't accepted her. Komand'r needed no oracle to tell her what his reaction would be if he knew the actual truth. He had Koriand'r's account of who she was to go by, and it might even be accurate to a certain degree, but he didn't know the other half of the story. And he never would, she vowed. They would have this moment. These stolen hours.

Connor could just about guess at what she was thinking as Komand'r undulated her hips and sunk onto him. He let out a low groan followed by a hiss as fire sizzled from the apex of his thighs to his toes before redirecting and heading straight for the top of his head.

He had no experience with women, but the first time he had laid eyes on Komand'r it was like a bolt of awareness striking him. It had been such an odd sensation that worried and confused him for a second because he wasn't sure what it was or what it meant. Now he knew, and he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to stop wanting this, to stop wanting her.

She leaned down and slanted her lips over his as he wove his arms across her back, holding her tightly.

For hours they rode one another, stopping just long enough to try out new positions, get a sip of water, and fall right back into each other.

Now partially spent, he lay on his back, right arm bent behind his head while the left cradled Komand'r to his chest. The both of them damp with sweat, stared at the holographic projection of the galaxy one of his progenitors came from, and the galaxy she called home. There was a smile that teased her lips as she talked about Tamaran, but he could hear the sadness and regret that she might not ever be able to return in her voice. Connor sympathized, but he was also…glad that she couldn't go back.

At least not right away.

It meant she could stay here, with him, just a little while longer.

"I might…" she bit into her lip and interrupted his musings.

Connor looked at her, "You might…?"

Betray you one day. Destruction always follows a cursed child is what Komand'r wanted to say, but instead she said, "I might need…another round."

Grinning, Connor hauled her over him. "I'm down."

Komand'r wiggled her hips against his, feeling him lengthen, "More like up."

"Touché."

They started once more, a renewed sense of purpose, passion, need.

Beneath the bed, invisible energy glowed…

Purple.

Fire was coming.

A/N: So that's all folks. I hope you enjoyed this one-shot. Maybe the muse will strike again for these two in the near future. If you feel so inclined to leave feedback, please do and thanks again for reading! Until next time…