Clark shifted his weight fretfully, once again fixing his gaze beyond
the gathered heads in front of him. The muttered conference going
on just under his chin was taking forever, and honestly there were a
ton of better things he’d rather be doing. Like saving the
Earth. Or walking Krypto. Heck, even trying to teach Kon
public speaking skills was starting to sound good.
Well, not good. Better than this, though.
Now stop it, he told
himself. This is for the best,
and you’re just going to have to deal with it. Clark
planted his feet firmly, determined to take his medicine like a
man. Yes, in the past month since he and Lois had separated, his
body had been going through some… changes. And yes, the
jokes from Flash and Green Arrow about Kryptonians going into heat was
somewhat, ah, unsettling. However, he was going to rise above all
of that. He was calm, he was patient he was… Superman. He
lifted his chin a bit higher, thinking of the responsibility that
carried. As Superman, he would endure with grace and good
humor. He would-
“Diana!” he jumped back, utterly shocked.
The Amazon pulled her hand back and smiled at him impishly. “Just
checking to see if the techno-spell is working, Kal.”
Oh God. Clark could feel the blush practically glowing on his
face. “You could have asked, you know. You didn’t have to
do that. He felt his
face burn even more when the corners of her eyes crinkled up in
suppressed laughter. He’d never been comfortable talking about
these things. Ma had raised him to think that certain subjects
just weren’t polite conversation. And talking about his, well,
his, um, that, was most
definitely on the list. He shifted again and ran a hand through
his messy dark curls.
“Are you three almost done yet?” he tried to be polite, but the
deeper, base tones woven through his speech gave away some of his
impatience.
“Of course, my deepest apologies, Kal-El.” J’onn’s stentorian
voice rolled soothingly over Clark’s stressed nerves, and he managed a
real smile when the Martian straightened from examining the thing
around his neck. “From everything I can determine, the collar
appears to be quite secure, and should withstand your day to day
activities until a more permanent, ah, arrangement, can be devised.”
“What he means,” Zatanna quipped, also straightening, “is that you
won’t be going off half cocked any time soon.” Diana’s snort of
laughter made him flinch in misery, and he wanted to bury his face in
his hands to escape the laughing women in front of him.
“Do you mind?” he begged. “I’m having a hard enough time without
all these little innuendos.”
Zatanna turned away, gasping and clutching her ribs, while Diana
helplessly covered her mouth, tears of amusement streaming down her
face. Clark rolled his eyes and took a step back, crossing his
arms over his chest defensively. Dammit, he hadn’t done anything
to earn this ridicule! It wasn’t something he could just turn on
and off, and Rao knew that if he could have gotten his
over-enthusiastic mating impulses under control by himself, he would
have.
“Sorry, I’m sorry!” gasped Zatanna. “I know it’s not funny,” she
whimpered, trying to hold back the giggles. “But, but you have to
admit that a sexually super-powered Superman is really really-“
“Embarrassing!” moaned Clark.
“The collar should assist in curbing your recent, ah…” floundered J’onn
“Output of meta-powered pheromones?” suggested Diana.
“Exactly!” chimed Zatanna.
Clark rolled his eyes again, and Bruce’s glowering stare drew his gaze
to the corner where the Dark Knight was watching the little show.
Clark shivered a little under the intense regard, forgetting his
embarrassment in the face of Bruce’s hostility.
“Is he safe?”
The three words grated out and instantly the humor evaporated from the
air, replaced with an icy chill. Bruce had been especially nasty
since the full scope of Clark’s problem had started to emerge, and
Clark wished that the human had found something else to occupy him this
afternoon.
Wait. Human. He shook his head slightly to jar the thought
loose. There it was, again. That strange thought process
was slipping in more and more lately. He never thought of them as
humans - just people. His people. An odd frisson of fear
spiked his gut and he suddenly wondered if Bruce was perhaps
right. Was he safe? Were they safe with him?
“Is he safe?” Bruce snapped again, facing down the collected
power in front of him and commanding their attention.
Controlling. Always controlling.
Clark shivered again.
“The collar will not fail, if that is your question,” J’onn replied,
the first to recover. “Nor will it be easily removed. I
believe this-“
“You believe,” sneered Bruce. “A month ago you laughed at my
warnings. Two weeks ago you believed that Kryptonian physiology
couldn’t possibly affect humans. Six days ago-“
“Nothing happened!” snapped Clark, his temper finally boiling
over. “Nothing! I took care of it!”
“You ran and hid!” hissed Bruce, his body uncoiling and striding
forward. “You quarantined yourself because if you hadn’t, that
entire crowd would have been on you! Pulling and tearing and
fucking you!”
“Bruce!” A pulse beat in Clark’s brain, faster and faster.
Heat burned over his skin, not shame, now, but something darker.
“Now, gentlemen,” Diana’s mediator tones tried to intervene.
“And you would have let them, wouldn’t you? You’d have enjoyed
it!” Bruce continued, relentlessly bitter.
“No!” And the dark thing started to swim to the surface, and
Clark felt a little like he was drowning.
“You’d have just lain back and welcomed them all one after another like
an indiscriminate. Little. Whore.”
Clark’s eyes blazed red and narrowed menacingly. Fine. If
the human wanted to fight, he was game. He was, in fact, aching
for a fight. Aching to release this urgent, thrumming tension
that pulsed under his skin and made his nerves twitch. Aching for
something… something. Some nameless thing that he was just
starting to be aware of and that the human seemed ready to give
him. He bared his teeth in a feral smile and stepped forward.
Bruce, seeing the shift in him, slid easily into a defensive stance,
warning the others with a glance to stay out of it. He continued
his advance, his mouth twisting sarcastically around the bitter, angry
words. “What’s wrong, Clark,” he taunted. “Lois not keeping
the home fires burning for you? Doesn’t she love you
anymore? Or did she just get bored?”
And that was it. That was all he would take from this
human. The memory of his wife’s rejection stabbed at his heart
and made him growl in fury. A low, inhuman rumble thrummed out of
his chest, deep base notes woven with menacing subsonics to make the
hair stand on end. Enough. Enough. Enough!
He slammed into the human, reveling in the feel of his body impacting
the dark, armored one. He wanted to do it again and again to keep
the vibrations rippling through his mass. Snarling in pleasure,
he grabbed the dark one by the shoulders and off the floor. He
would show this man not to taunt, not to poke sticks at one such as
he. And then, and then-
A flash as a small, silver blade snicked under his chin, and the last
shreds of Clark’s reason froze with shock. Oh. Oh
damn. There went the collar.
Blood-fire raced through him, and for a moment he lost his sweet prize
in the disorienting rush. His alien senses stretched around him
like a living web, freed from the human restraints he kept them
in. The suit rubbed silky and strong across his skin, whispering
of pleasures and hungers to come, and the breath of his prize whistled
cleanly in and out, in and out of the dark one, teasing him with the
primal, fuckable rhythm. Yes. Yes.
The dark one twisted away from him and staggered a few steps before the
green Martian stepped between them. He snarled in fury. The
Martian wanted his prize! Moving thought-quick he attacked,
spinning and throwing the Martian into the soft woman scents behind
him. He was burning, aching
with this thrumming under his skin that was so pure, so painfully sweet
that he felt he would burst with it. The three on the floor
showed signs of responding to his need, with flushed skin and gasping,
heaving breasts. He scented them again and dismissed them.
His prize was better. He released another menacing growl, and
oddly, a piercing look from the dark one sent the interlopers fleeing
from the room.
Yes. Better.
He turned just as his sweet prize was taking a thing of light and pain
from his belt. He laughed and surged forward, batting the small
black disc from a gloved hand. The dark one bared his teeth
and attacked with hands and feet, his glorious scent washing over
Clark. The blood-fire kicked at him and he moaned in throaty
wonder at his body. He needed, oh yes he needed and the dark one,
mmm, the dark one would satisfy him and inflame him and scream.
Scream with him and the human and the alien screams would
cascade across his skin and it would stop the thrumming.
Stop it and feed it and make it harder, oh fuck he was so hard!
And his lovely dark prize was fighting him, kicking and biting and
clawing and sinking teeth deep into his neck and that was
perfect. God yes, the hunger oozed from his skin and into the
sharp, fierce mouth and they were both clawing and scrambling now,
tearing armor and cloth from their bodies like rotted leaves. He
slammed his prize down on the low, flat table before them and smiled
when the sharp mouth snarled back at him. Skin rubbing skin, his
own scent breathed in by the beautiful, feral prize, and they were
humping, fucking, his thrumming, screaming skin given voice by the
gorgeous creature under him. And now his dark one was grappling,
pulling him further on the table and mounting his stomach, always
dominant, always always and he loved him for it. Yes, my
beauty. Take me and you’ll be mine forever.
He howled in ecstasy as his dark love thrust hard and strong into his
depth, fucking his hole with animal noises and lovely
desperation. He bucked and writhed into the fist on his cock, the
hunger building, more… oh, more… oh fuck yes. Oh it was, it was
coming, he was coming and here it was and yes, oh dear sweet god
yes and he screamed in pleasure and his dark love screamed with him and
pumped and shuddered his soul into the searing heat of his body.
*_*_*
J’onn cleared his throat quietly, rubbing a prominent brow ridge with a
hand. “Well, the, ah, collar was never supposed to be a permanent
solution.”
He trailed off, staring with the others through the window at the
conference table beyond, and the heroes entwined on it. Half
asleep, Bruce shifted Clark with one arm until the other was snugged
tightly against his chest, head pillowed on his shoulder. Clark
opened heavy, blue eyes for a moment, then sighed contentedly and
settled in.
“Maybe not permanent, but it should have lasted more than ten minutes!”
griped Zatanna, nursing a sore elbow from the fight. “And it
would have! What was he thinking by cutting the collar off like
that? Do you know how hard I worked?”
“More to the point,” murmured Diana, “what was he thinking by provoking
Kal in such a manner in the first place?”
“What do you think?” replied J’onn, who simply shrugged and
turned, motioning to the women to lead the way out of the great hall,
dimming the lights behind them as he went. The two women chatted
ahead of him, so only he glanced back in surprise as he heard with his
mind and ears the quiet words between his friends.
“Bruce.”
“Hm.” grunted Bruce.
“I’m not… I’m not a whore, you know.”
A small silence, then, “I know,” murmured softly. “It was wrong
of me.” Soft lips pressed into Clark’s hair in apology.
“What I mean is, um, I can’t just, ah, go from one person to
another. I need, just, you know, one person and, uh-”
“I know,” Bruce whispered again. Shaking Clark a little with the
arm around his shoulders, he emphasized his words. “I know.
Now go to sleep.”
Smiling softly, Clark closed his eyes and snuggled back down against
Bruce’s chest.
From further away, J’onn smiled to see the bodies of his friends
nestled together, a dim light washing over them, and he turned to go,
leaving them to each other.
--end
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