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Alfred wiped the sweat off Bruce’s forehead, dabbing lightly with the damp cloth.
“We need to call Leslie,” he said. Bruce groaned from his position face-down above the toilet. “You haven’t kept anything down in four hours.”
“Hng,” the omega said, spitting bile into the toilet with a grimace, “And she’ll say the same thing she said last time.”
Alfred blotted his forehead again, worry leaking into his scent. In the small bathroom, he was sure the smell was overwhelming to the younger man -- if he could detect anything past the sickly-sweetness of preheat.
“You’re certain?” he asked, hovering as Bruce made to retch again. “I know a discreet--”
“Absolutely not,” the omega said, lifting his head from the toilet to glare at him. He was deathly pale, save for a sickly flush high on his cheekbones. “I’m in withdrawal. Not mindless.”
“Not yet,” Alfred said, getting another glare for his trouble. “An alpha would make the process easier, halve the recovery ti--”
“Alfred.” Bruce snatched the towel from him, turning back to the toilet bowl in abject misery, “Let me throw up in peace, please.”
The beta stood, shaking his head.
“I’m coming back with an IV kit in thirty minutes,” he warned, pausing in the doorway. “Try not to die before then, sir.”
“Ha. Very funny,” Bruce said, clearly unamused. He let out another retch, coughing violently. “F-fuck --”
Alfred closed the door, wincing at the smell of a distressed, pre-heat omega. Even in the cooler hallway, the scent was overbearing.
The wrongness dug at the protective instincts long-buried inside him, begging him to grab Bruce by the nape of his neck, wrap him in a blanket, and lock him in an enclosed space with a nice, polite alpha.
A nice, polite alpha. Where was he going to f --
Oh.
Alfred picked up his pace, heading for the Cave.
Clark jumped as his emergency comm buzzed against his wrist, nearly dropping his groceries.
He quickly stepped into a nearby alley, setting the bag down on the cobblestones. With a frown, he answered the comm, keeping his voice low.
“This is Superman.”
“Superman.” A familiar voice said, pausing briefly. “Is this a bad time?”
“No,” Clark said, growing concerned. He knew that voice, even if he’d only heard it a few times. “Alfred?”
“Indeed,” the butler said, curt, “I have a…delicate…situation involving our mutual acquaintance.”
Bruce. Something was wrong with Bruce. Clark tensed, resisting the instinct to fly straight to Gotham and blanket himself over the (likely unwilling) omega.
“Is he alright?” he asked, deceptively calm. Of course Bruce would be alright -- even close to death, he’d been quipping with the butler in the medbay. “Alfred?”
“He’s in preheat,” Alfred said finally, trailing off. “Forced detox from suppressants, I’m afraid.”
Clark winced, feeling his cheeks color. “I, uh…assume you have it…there are services--”
He cut himself off before he could babble any more nonsense, pressing his lips together. Alfred made a strangled noise on the other end of the line, sounding just as frazzled.
“Master Wayne is…refusing such services,” the butler said, clearly displeased by that development, “In my opinion, to the detriment of his health.”
Clark swallowed, nodding along. An omega in a withdrawal heat, without an alpha, came with a slew of complications. Some omegas even died from the stress.
If Alfred was calling, Bruce had to be in bad shape already. And still, it seemed, refusing treatment.
“You want me to order him to accept help,” he surmised, feeling a wave of revulsion at the thought of Bruce welcoming another alpha into his bed. But if it saved the stubborn omega’s life, he was more than willing to try. “As a Justice League issue?”
“Well,” Alfred said, hesitating, “I was hoping you could be…persuasive.”
“I can be persuasive,” Clark said, “Diana and I will ground him from field work indefinitely. We can comm him now, if you’d like.”
There was silence on the other end of the line. Clark shifted on his feet, suddenly anxious. Was Alfred telling him everything? What if Bruce was--
“Perhaps you could come tell him yourself?” the butler asked, interrupting his worried thoughts. “I believe it would be more impactful that way.”
“Of course,” Clark said, frowning. He could be in Gotham quickly -- just needed to put away his groceries, first. “I’ll be over in a few minutes. Should I bring anything?”
Alfred chuckled, muttering something away from the phone that sounded like “so polite.”
“Just yourself, Master Kent,” Alfred said smoothly. “I’ll see you shortly.”
“Okay. Bye!”
Clark shut the comm off, staring at the tiny piece of metal in his hand. His senses reached out toward Gotham, unconsciously seeking out Bruce’s heartbeat.
It was fast. Too fast for someone as fit and healthy as Bruce. He swallowed around a brief swell of anxiety, tucking the comm back into his pocket.
Time to go to Gotham.
Bruce grunted into his pillow as another round of cramps wracked his body, pressing his face into the fabric to ensure he didn’t make a sound.
It’d been decades since his last heat, and the pain was just as intense as he remembered at 16. Christ, but he could barely move without curling, grinding pain through his pelvis, making him dizzy and nauseous beyond belief.
Leslie was a phenomenal doctor, but he was cursing her name as he sweated through the latest round of cramps, feeling the heat burning off his skin. His suppressants were fine. They prevented him from having to go through this demented process every few months -- kept him in control of his instincts. Balanced.
Yet she’d taken him off them anyway, casting him worried glances as he left her office. He knew about the risks, the damage he could cause with long term use. Without at least a yearly heat, the chances were much higher for severe side effects; infertility, early menopause...
He’d refused to ever have a heat again, after his presentation. The confusion, the lack of clarity and awareness, the vulnerability -- it was all too much. He never wanted to depend on someone, chain himself to an alpha for an indeterminate time, just to stay sane.
And here he was, anyway. Thirty five and white-knuckling his way through a withdrawal heat like an inexperienced teenager.
Alfred’s sympathy only made it worse. The smell of worried beta had him curling into himself, wishing for the butler’s touch like he had as a child, stroking through his hair and murmuring soft assurances.
But this wasn’t a fever that would break with rest and fluids. By any means, it would only get worse.
He knew, instinctively, in the way that his hips fought to move, that his neck ached to be bared, that the pain could turn into pleasure with a simple touch. Slick flowed between his legs steadily, scenting the room in reluctant arousal.
He’d fought his way through that first heat with gritted teeth and an embarrassing assortment of Alfred-procured toys, only feeling a hint of comfort at his worst moments. It hadn’t been pleasure, so much as fanatical relief in waves, allowing him to rest.
The mere presence of an alpha could abate the worst of the withdrawal symptoms, could turn the wracking pain in his pelvis into sparks of pleasure. But he couldn’t. Not when so much was riding on him being in control.
(Not when the thought of some foreign alpha, from an anonymous service or elsewhere, was anathema. He didn’t want them. If he had to choose, he’d--)
He bit off another groan, feeling tears leak into the pillow despite himself as more slick poured from his hole.
He’d been tortured, beaten, starved, but never at the mercy of his own body and hormones, rejecting his choices tangibly. His own body was his enemy, and it seemed to feel the same way about him, clenching painfully around nothing, over and over again.
The door opened a few moments later, the scent of worried-anxious-intent trailing in after Alfred. Bruce rolled over, not opening his eyes.
“M’fine,” he said, knowing it wasn’t convincing. “Just let it…burn out. I--”
He moaned audibly as the cramps intensified, biting down on his lip too late for the sound not to escape Alfred. Opening his eyes, he found the butler… hesitating?... by the foot of the bed.
With as much strength as he could muster in between cramps, he sat up against the pillows, running a shaking hand across his face.
“What is it?”
Alfred folded his hands, looking down at him. “You have a visitor, Master Wayne.”
A visitor? Oh fuck--
“I told you, I didn’t want a service alpha,” he said, anger growing in his chest. Not in his house, not in his nest, not in him. “Tell them they can--”
Clark stepped through the door, coming to a halt behind Alfred.
“--fuck off…” Bruce finished half-heartedly, trailing off. “Clark.”
The other man smiled, a wave of reassuring scent rolling through the room.
“Hey, Bruce.”
The scent of distressed omega-in-heat hit him as soon as he landed at the Manor.
Clark shook his head, pushing down the instinct to hurry and find the source of the discomfort. The scent tugged at his chest, lending him anxiety and a sense of responsibility he didn’t usually feel.
Bruce wasn’t his omega. But he was a teammate, and a member of the loose pack the Justice League was slowly forming. Clark owed it to him to make sure he was healthy and happy, at the very least.
Walking up to the back door, he knocked lightly on the glass. A few moments later, Alfred came into view, sliding the door open.
“Thank you for coming,” he said, drawing Clark into the kitchen. “Please, follow me.”
Inside, the scent of distress and pre-heat was even stronger, and he bit down before a growl could escape. The wrongness set his teeth on edge, raising his shoulders even in the neutral company of the beta butler.
Alfred led him to the base of the front stairs, pausing at the banister. He turned to stare at him directly, beta calmness radiating off of him, almost forced.
“Please help him see sense,” the butler said, holding his gaze. “In whatever way you can. Or whatever way you are…willing.”
Clark raised his brows at the butler’s suggestive tone, feeling his cheeks begin to flush. He put a hand up.
“Alfred, I--”
“He trusts you,” Alfred said, still holding his gaze. He was utterly serious, and his sober tone had Clark fighting down a hysterical bubble of laughter. “More than any other alpha I know.”
“Because we work together,” he said, knowing it was a weak protest. “Trust isn’t the same thing as…”
He couldn’t even say it. He felt his cheeks grow even redder, ducking his head before he had to look at Alfred’s piercing gaze any longer.
“I am aware of exactly how far Master Wayne’s trust goes,” the butler said firmly. “And his heart, on occasion.”
Clark looked up at that, frowning. “You--”
They were cut off by a soft moan from upstairs, combined with an increase in the alluring mixed scent of distress and arousal. Clark felt himself reflexively freeze, nostrils flaring at the familiar scent underneath the heat pheromones.
Mine.
“Please,” Alfred said, drawing him back to the present. There was a hint of desperation in his scent, one that called to Clark’s feeling of pack almost as much as Bruce’s did. “You’ll see…”
Clark shook his head, trying to clear it. “You and Dick?” he asked hoarsely.
“We’ll be in my quarters for the foreseeable future,” the butler said, rubbing his hands together. “He hasn’t presented yet, so he should be fine staying in the house.”
Clark nodded, pinching the bridge of his nose briefly to stave off the worst of his instincts. Rao, but the longer he stood here…
“I’ll try,” he said, watching as Alfred’s shoulders twitched in relief. “But I can’t promise anything. You know how he is.”
“I do,” the butler said, turning for the stairs. “Follow me, please.”
Clark traveled in a daze up the stairs, following the older man. When Alfred entered the master suite, he hung back, trying to take deep breaths through his mouth.
Downstairs, the scent of an omega in heat had been distracting. Upstairs, it was almost impossible to ignore, setting his fangs against his bottom lip. A low growl started in his chest, his scent flaring in worry-anger despite himself.
Inside, he heard Alfred and Bruce talking, the omega growing even more agitated at the suggestion of a service alpha.
Well, he thought, it’s now or never.
He stepped in behind the butler, pasting a smile on his face as he entered the suite.
“--fuck off…” Bruce was saying from his bed, half-propped up on pillows as he argued with Alfred.
The omega looked half-dead, pale and drenched in sweat. There was a heated blush high on his cheekbones, his eyes slightly glassy with the telltale sheen of preheat.
Despite his illness, those sharp eyes immediately snapped to him as he entered the room, assessing him.
“Clark,” he said, in that infuriating, calm voice of his. And oh, it felt good to hear him say his name.
“Hey Bruce,” he said casually. He could feel the way his body responded, sending out a wave of reassurance and calm scent to the omega before he reigned it in. “Heard you weren’t feeling good.”
Bruce immediately looked at Alfred, who held up his hands and began backing up.
“Perhaps he’ll speak some sense into you where I’ve failed,” the butler said, then glanced briefly at Clark. “Master Kent.”
Clark nodded, watching as Alfred closed the bedroom door, heading down the hallway -- presumably to where he and Dick were holing up.
“Whatever he said to you, he’s exaggerating.”
Clark turned around, watching the omega struggle into an upright position. He was breathing quickly, trying desperately to pretend he wasn’t.
“I’m not sure about that,” he said, trying to keep his voice neutral. At Bruce’s nod, he sat on the edge of the bed, folding his hands. “You don’t need me to tell you what your vitals look like.”
The omega blinked at him, then looked away. A familiar steeliness crept into his eyes, fighting against the glassiness of preheat.
“These things burn themselves out. I’ve done it before. You don’t have to stay.”
Clark felt an ache at the thought of Bruce having to do this on his own before, opening his mouth to respond before thinking better of it. How long had he known Batman, and by proxy, Bruce? The man didn’t want his pity, if he’d even tolerate it.
But he didn’t see a feared vigilante in front of him right now. As alpha of the Justice League, alpha of whatever fledgling pack they’d loosely thrown together, he saw an omega denying his own nature, at his own detriment. Unwilling to accept help, even if it was freely given.
Underneath it all, he saw a hint of fear. Uncertainty. Doubt. They were inevitable byproducts of shoving one’s nature down for decades, which he suspected Bruce had.
He let his eyes wander over the sweat-drenched shirt the omega was wearing, thinking. Bruce’s face pinched briefly in pain, only to be smoothed away a moment later, deceptively calm.
Mind made up, Clark closed his eyes, breathing out through his nose. In one motion, he released the polite hold he had over his scent, letting it blanket the room in alpha pheromones.
He opened his eyes to see Bruce swaying where he was seated, eyes half-closed as he leaned sub-consciously toward Clark.
The instinctual sense of satisfaction at the sight had him purring briefly in approval, a brief rumble in his chest he hadn’t felt in years.
“Bruce,” he said, keeping his scent open and his hands in front of him. “Please let us help you. You can’t continue like this.”
Bruce sniffed once, shaking off the calming pheromones in an instant. He glanced at Clark, expression inscrutable.
“You’re not going to convince me by throwing out your scent,” he said, but there was a layer of uncertainty in his tone. “I told Alfred, I don’t want a service alpha. You can ask me again in four hours, the answer will be the same.”
Clark had no doubt he was telling the truth. He took a breath, steeling himself, and leaned forward.
“Then let me help you. Please.”
Keeping a blank face as he spoke with Clark was hard.
Somehow, he managed to continue their stilted conversation, greedily taking in the man’s steady scent from across the bedroom. Even tightly pulled in within himself, the alpha smelled like calm. Security. Reassurance.
The cramps only seemed to increase with the other man’s presence, however, blinding him briefly with pain. It was like his body knew an alpha was close, begging him to close the final distance between them and find some relief.
Half-distant from their conversation due to the pain, the second Clark let out his scent, he froze as every nerve in his body quieted.
God, but the feeling of being enveloped in Clark was indescribable. He closed his eyes, leaning toward the scent with a hunger deep in his chest. He smelled like burning wood in a hearth, like blended spice and the aching tenderness of home.
He’d never smelled Clark off of his suppressants before. He didn’t think he could go back, now. The thought was crushing, in a far-off way.
“Bruce,” Clark was saying, somewhere in front of him, “Please let us help you. You can’t continue like this.”
I might be able to, he thought distantly. Maybe he could weather this heat with one of the alpha’s shirts, and oh, was that more slick he could feel in between his legs? It felt different, now…
Self-conscious, he drew back into himself, digging a thumb into his palm. He glanced back at Clark, exhaling to clear the pheromones from his nose.
“You’re not going to convince me by throwing out your scent,” he said, knowing it wasn’t entirely truthful. Clearly, the scent had pushed him further to one side of the fence than he’d anticipated. “I told Alfred, I don’t want a service alpha. You can ask me again in four hours, the answer will be the same.”
The thought of letting another alpha into his room -- his nest -- right now had his hackles rising. It was wrong . The only one allowed in was Clark, and he was--
He was learning forward, eyes full of alpha intent and something softer, something so Clark it had him holding his breath.
“Then let me help you. Please.”
The second the last words left his lips, he knew they’d had an impact. The scent of slick began to leak into the air, as the pained scent around Bruce shifted from unhappy-sick-hot to something deeper -- attraction-hesitation-need.
Clark groaned softly, feeling himself harden in his jeans instantly. He breathed through his mouth, knowing he had to keep a clear head for Bruce’s answer.
“You’re serious,” Bruce whispered, looking at him like he’d just knocked the moon out of orbit. “You’d help me.”
Clark nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He let affection and sanction leak into his scent, surrounding the omega in it. He wanted to help him, wanted to make him feel better, wanted to--
This time, Bruce groaned as Clark’s scent teetered too far into arousal, grinding down against the bed with clenched eyes. The sight was addictive; he wanted so badly to reach out and touch that pale throat, press his nose into the junction under his jaw and breathe in that beautiful scent.
“Why?”
Clark gripped his own thighs with his hands, willing his voice to stay steady.
“Because I care about you,” he said, like it was simple. Maybe it was. “And I want you to feel good.”
Bruce made a pained noise, still not touching him. He was so close to giving in, that vaunted self-control an inch from snapping. And Clark knew, instinctively, exactly what to say.
“Bruce, look at me,” he said, shifting closer on the bed. He let a hand lift up, tipping the omega’s chin up so they were staring at each other.
Bruce’s eyes were wide, pupils so dilated they looked black in the low light. He was panting against Clark’s hold, fighting so hard for control.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said softly, tilting Bruce’s chin. “Please, Bruce? Let me help you?”
The tension drawing tight between them -- growing ever since he’d entered the bedroom -- was close to breaking.
With a pained sound, Bruce pulled him forward, shoving their mouths together in a brutal kiss.
The second their lips connected, Clark took over the kiss. Bruce couldn’t blame him for it.
He let himself be pushed back against the pillows, moaning as a leg pressed between his own, relieving the pressure he hadn’t known was building there.
The alpha kissed hungrily down his neck, scraping against his skin in a way that had him shivering in the other man’s hold. He clawed down Clark’s ribs, trying to pull him in closer with his legs as burning urgency overtook him.
He nearly sobbed as his pants were shoved down, a thick finger sliding through his folds a moment later, gathering the slick there.
“Please.” he gasped, knowing he sounded half-mindless at this point, and uncaring.
Clark huffed a laugh into his neck, smelling pleased by his insistence. He kissed Bruce softly, then trailed his mouth down his neck, pulling off his shirt as he went and throwing it over his shoulder.
He moaned as the alpha sucked briefly at his chest, a steady pressure that had him writhing against the other man. Clark pulled at both nipples, then moved further down, until his head was between the v of his legs.
“Beautiful,” he said, with lust-filled eyes. Bruce shuddered, feeling the slick leaking out of him. God, but this felt so good.
A finger slipped past his dick and into his cunt, probing gently. He groaned as the cramps finally subsided entirely, warded off by the feeling of pleasure and pressure. He rocked into the finger, pumping his hips back and forth as the animalistic need to come began biting at his spine.
Clark didn’t comment on his eagerness, but the hint of alpha satisfaction in his scent spoke for itself. He lowered his lips to Bruce’s cock with a smile, pressing gently at his clit as he added a second finger.
He moaned as a soft suction began, moving in time with the fingers pumping in and out of him. Slick began pouring out of him, softening the way until Clark’s hand was dripping with it.
“Please fuck me,” Bruce gasped when the alpha pulled off for a beat, desperate and uncaring who heard it. “Clark.”
Clark pushed sweaty hair out of his face, leaning back on his heels. “Condom?” he asked, sounding breathless.
“Drawer,” Bruce said, gesturing with a hand. The alpha nearly tore the drawer out of the nightstand in his haste, grabbing a fistful of condoms and dropping them all across the floor.
“Just a--” Clark unrolled a condom, pulling down his pants with a soft groan. “You have no idea, uh, how good you smell right now--”
Bruce tugged at his shirt, unhappy that it was still on. A low whine started in his throat, and he froze. He’d never--well.
Clark met his gaze, sensing the panic instantly. He returned immediately to Bruce’s neck, kissing him roughly just under his ear.
“Just a second,” he promised, still unwrapping the condom, pressing sloppy kisses against Bruce’s face. “You’re so beautiful. You know that, right? Rao--”
A moment later, he had the condom on. Bruce leaned back, appeased when the alpha finally pulled his shirt off, tossing it to join his own somewhere on the floor.
“Ready?” Clark asked, tilting his head up until they were looking into each other’s eyes. Bruce nodded, not trusting himself to speak.
The alpha’s cock pressed at his entrance, slow and hesitant. With an instinctual shift of his hips, Bruce let him in, feeling the walls of his cunt fluttering around the alpha.
When Clark bottomed out, they both gasped, pausing with their foreheads pressed against each other. The sensation of being filled was almost too much. It was so good--
The alpha began moving slowly, little sharp bursts of his hips that sent pleasure skittering across Bruce’s pelvis. He moaned, holding onto the other man’s back as he gave in to the sensation, rocking back as much as he could.
Clark pressed a kiss to his sweaty forehead, increasing the pace of his thrusts gradually. Soon, the entire bed was shifting back and forth, pleasure sparking up his spine as the alpha’s cock drove deeper and deeper.
“So wet,” Clark murmured against his neck, his scent full of alpha approval and desire. Bruce whined again, deep in his chest, and ignored the wave of shame that threatened to follow. “Feel so good, Bruce.”
He pressed his fangs against Bruce’s neck, biting down lightly. With a burst of starlight behind his eyelids, the omega came suddenly, clenching down hard with a stuttered shout.
Clark moaned as his cock was squeezed, still moving inside of him as he came down through the aftershocks. To his surprise, he felt the pressure still building between his legs, building him toward another orgasm.
“So good,” Clark repeated, a thumb glancing across his right nipple, considering. “Just let go, Bruce. Let me make you feel good.”
With a happy sigh, he leaned back against the pillows, closing his eyes. The steady thrusts between his legs had him moaning, breathing faster as his second orgasm approached.
Tantalizingly slow, Clark slid in and out of him, running a hand across his chest, the other bracketed up around his face.
“Relax,” the alpha said, somewhere above him, as his breathing began to stutter again. “Just let it flow through you. Don’t think about it.”
Every thrust brought him an inch closer. He panted as the pressure built in his pelvis, unable to help the little gasps that each thrust pressed out of him.
“Ah, ah, ah, ah--”
Clark’s hand circled gently around his cock and tugged, and he came in an aching, mind-numbing shudder, face twisted up in pleasure. The alpha dutifully drove into him, keeping up that damned steady pace all the while.
Bruce came back to himself slowly, still feeling the rhythmic pull of their bodies where they connected. He looked up at Clark with clarity he hadn’t felt in days, beyond grateful.
“There you are,” the alpha rumbled, from deep in his chest. He smelled…happy? “I wondered how many it would take.”
Bruce felt himself flush, suddenly aware of how intimately they were pressed against each other.
“We can stop,” Clark offered, sounding disheartened. Bruce immediately clenched, something within him rejecting that thought entirely. The alpha groaned, thrusting erratically at the sudden pressure. “Or not. Wow, you really don’t like that idea, do you?”
“If you meant what you said--”
“I do.”
“--then don’t stop,” Bruce said, locking eyes with the alpha. “Please.”
Clark’s eyes darkened even further, filling with lust again. He thrust upward sharply, forcing a startled breath of air out of Bruce’s chest, every nerve in his body lighting up.
“Oh, fuck,” he said, as the alpha began to fuck him earnestly, his earlier steady pace forgotten. “Oh fuck fuck fuck--”
Impossibly, he felt the ache between his legs grow again, blunt pressure slipping into pleasure as he let Clark use his body, pounding into him in a way that satisfied the omega instincts buried deep within him. He could only hold on, gasping for air as the alpha’s thrusts pushed him up the bed.
Clark’s knot began to swell, and Bruce made a startled noise as he felt it press against him. He’d never had it before, and yet he suddenly knew, like he knew how to shift his hips in the beginning, that he wanted it inside him at all costs.
“Clark,” he moaned, unable to get the full sentence out. Breathing harshly against his neck, the alpha seemed to get the message anyway. He lifted the omega’s right leg and bent it back against the bedspread, driving even deeper into him.
Bruce felt the knot begin to catch inside him, eyes rolling back with the pleasure that was building. He could tell that Clark was close, too, by the way his face was screwed up in pleasure, hands gripping firmly around Bruce’s hips.
“I’m gonna--” he panted against the omega’s neck, ”Can I--”
“Please,” Bruce whined, breathing erratically again. “Oh please, fuck, fuck fuck--”
The knot caught, and Bruce came hard, clenching down on Clark’s cock just as the alpha began to come. He could feel the heat as the condom filled, the alpha rocking his hips through the orgasm with breathless little moans.
“Fuck,” Clark said, still coming, running a hand down Bruce’s sweaty face. His eyes fluttered shut, and he flinched every few seconds, a corresponding spurt of warmth between his legs a moment later. “Fuck, Bruce.”
He tugged the alpha down to his chest, cradling his head as he grew accustomed to the knot inside of him. He felt clear-headed for the first time in days, shuddering softly with pleasure as Clark blanketed him with his body, curling around him protectively.
They caught their breath together, or at least, Bruce did. Clark seemed just as dazed for his part, testing the knot with a soft groan every few seconds.
“I’m going to--” Bruce bit off a moan, shifting against the other man as he thrust languidly again into the knot. “I’m going to come again if you keep doing that.”
“Maybe I want you to,” Clark said good-naturedly, looking up at him with a soft smile. “Is that so bad?”
Bruce considered this for a moment, staring up at his ceiling as his heart rate slowed. For the first time in days, he could think, and the only thought in his mind was doing this all over again, as many times as Clark would allow.
“I guess it isn’t,” he said. And meant it.
The rest, they’d figure out later.