Chapter Text
Alfred slowed the car in front of the entrance, slipping back into his role as suave, beta driver with great reverence. Lex did one final scan of his suit cuffs and shirt, craning his neck to look at the backseat.
“Ready?” he asked. “You two have been pretty quiet.”
Bruce, firmly ensconced in Clark’s arms, flipped Lex off. The motion spoke of many years of practice, since it was done just under view of the tinted windows. “We’re ready. You’re the one putting on a show tonight, Lex. Not us.”
“Oh, I’m tickled that’s what you think,” Lex said, winking at their Pack Alpha. “Clark, chin up. Make sure Bruce poses for a few photos. If he runs off the red carpet, we’re fucked.”
“Sir yes sir,” Clark said, smelling amused. Lex gave him a cheeky salute, turning to Alfred.
“I’ll open their door,” Lex murmured to the beta as Bruce shifted upright in the backseat. “We’ll give you a call when we’re ready to come back.”
“Good,” Alfred replied, giving him a nod. “I suppose it’s rather fruitless, asking you all to stay out of trouble?”
“Trouble is the goal, my friend,” Lex said, patting Alfred on the shoulder. He leaned in and dragged his thumb over the beta’s scent gland, getting a withering stare in return. “Don’t smoke all those Reds without me, ‘kay?”
“I have no idea what you mean.”
The yelling and camera flashes around them was fairly intermittent. Lex had a feeling that would change shortly.
Well, he thought, looking at the door handle, here goes nothing.
The car door opened. Lex’s face hovered right in front of him, a single pale hand extended.
“My Pack Omega,” Lex said, with great emphasis. “Please, if you would.”
Bruce snorted, taking his hand. “Are you going to be like this all night?” he asked, using Lex’s hand to get up and out of the car.
If asked, he would blame the difficulty of navigating around a larger stomach. And not the fact that he was still half-dazed from the knot Clark had given him earlier, warm and relaxed from the knotting hormones.
“Like what?” Lex asked, steadying him with two hands on his shoulders. It was a ploy for the cameras, and Bruce didn’t even care. “I’m always like this, Bruce.”
The crowd went wild when Bruce finally turned around, displaying his face -- and obvious belly -- to the cameras. Reporters pushed forward at the gates and barriers to get closer, thrusting microphones and cameras forward.
“Awh, I feel a little left out,” Clark said, still seated in the car. “No hand for me, Lex?”
The omega reached past Bruce, yanking Clark out of the car with a vigor that would’ve left any other man with a sprained wrist.
“My Pack Alpha,” Lex said, batting his eyes at Clark. “Who cannot seem to get out of cars under his own power. So dashing.”
“Or maybe,” Bruce said under his breath, ignoring the camera flashes, “He’s playing it up for the cameras, Lex.”
Clark smiled at Lex, flashing his incisors. It was a playful, alpha expression, made doubly effective by a wave of Clark’s scent. “Lead us in, Lex. We don’t know the way.”
Lead the way, I trust you to protect us.
Bruce hid a grin in his hand as Lex went still, pupils dilating as he briefly sank into instinct. Clark had been holding his scent back all evening, and the fact that he was finally comfortable enough to let it run free in public warmed something deep in his gut.
“Not fair,” Lex said, blinking away the sudden wave of instinct. “God, I already feel drunk. Let’s go before I forget how to climb stairs.”
Clark held out his arm, ever the gentleman. This time, when Bruce grasped it, an audible aww surged through the crowd. It stemmed the flow of questions, but only for a moment.
“Bruce! Bruce! Where were you?”
“Bruce, is this your alpha?”
“Bruce, is it a boy or girl?”
“Lex, are you still a fugitive from Arkham Asylum?”
“Hey, alpha! Give us a smile and a name!”
“Bruce, can you confirm rumors that you were undergoing rounds of IVF at Gotham Me--”
Lex led them forward on the carpet, guiding them past the lower-rated tabloids and papers. Bruce kept his eyes averted, avoiding the flashing cameras. His hand found his belly, protecting it from the cameras on instinct.
He trusted Lex had this handled. The other omega had spent hours selecting the various interviews they’d give throughout the night, scribbling them out into his chart with two or three talking points underlined.
“He’s really at home here, isn’t he?” Clark asked quietly, ducking his head so their faces were closer together. “It’s sure something to watch.”
Lex was nearly ethereal in his bright blue suit, stalking down the carpet like he owned it. He was relentless omega in a way so few others were, refusing to avert his eyes from anyone, even the alphas.
“He likes attention. And something to play with,” Bruce said, shrugging. “He’s smarter than all of them combined. Somehow, even with the degrees and the company, they keep missing that.”
“Reminds me of someone else,” Clark said, barely audible over the hum of the crowd behind them. When Bruce looked up, he smiled. “Except the attention part. I have a feeling you don’t mind going without that.”
They watched together as Lex chatted up a blonde reporter at the edge of the cordon, leaning over the gate and practically leaking omega interest into the press pool.
“That’s the first one,” Bruce said, squeezing Clark’s arm. “I know you told Lex you were fine--”
“And I am,” Clark cut in, reaching out to cup his chin. His eyes were half-dilated already, giving into his instinct like he never did outside of the nest. “Trust me, Bruce.”
If Bruce had doubted his words, Clark’s scent only underlined his confidence. It was heady and more alpha-like than normal, responding to the dozen alpha scents circulating in the air around them.
“Ah, and here’s the happy couple,” Lex said loudly, waving them over. “Bruce, come here and say hi!”
In the three steps it took to approach the reporter, Bruce had a natural, convincing smile on his face. He relaxed his posture, slipping into a role he hadn’t played in years. It came back easier than it should have.
“Hi,” Bruce said, reaching out to shake the reporter’s hand. She was an omega, and a pretty one, to boot. Lex had clearly chosen her for a reason. “I’m Bruce, but I’m sure you already knew that.”
The omega shook back, offering him a polite smile. “Bruce, would you do me a favor and introduce your guest? I think everyone on the eastern seaboard has been dying to know his name.”
Her eyes never left his, ignoring Clark entirely. It was a test, Bruce realized. An immature or prideful alpha would butt in and insist on introducing himself. Or huff at the perceived slight, at the very least. And that was newsworthy, in and of itself.
Next to him, Clark remained silent, pushing out a gentle swell of content alpha pheromones. His hand slipped down to Bruce’s waist, skimming the edge of his bump with his fingers.
“This is Clark Kent, reporter at the Daily Planet,” Bruce said, smiling at his alpha. “My alpha and my mate. And the sire of my pups.”
The reporter nodded, jotting down his quote in quick shorthand on her notepad. “Mr. Kent. Are you from Metropolis?”
It was startlingly natural, how Clark shifted his weight and attention forward. The alpha smiled at the reporter, boyish and charming.
“Kansas, actually,” he said. “But I’ve been living in Metropolis for the last few years.”
“Not anymore?” the reporter asked, staring back directly at Clark. Clark blinked away the implied challenge, never letting the smile fall from his face.
“It’s a little hard to see your mate if you’re always in a different city,” Clark joked. The reporter dropped her eyes to his chin, letting out an amused huff.
“Favorite thing you’re looking forward to about parenthood?” she asked, going rapid-fire through her list of questions.
“Being able to hold our pups,” Clark replied without hesitation. “I can’t wait to meet them.”
The reporter jotted that down, lips pulled up into a half smile. Her eyes found Bruce again, sharp but not unkind. “Mr. Wayne, you’re a tad older than most omegas who choose to carry. Any advice for those who might be worried about becoming parents later in life?”
That was a polite way to put it. Bruce saw Lex tense behind the reporter and signed wait down by his hip. Clark’s hand tightened around his waist, supporting him.
“Being able to carry our pups is a gift,” Bruce said. “I didn’t think I would ever be pregnant, but sometimes the universe surprises you. I’m grateful to my alpha for giving me that chance again.”
Clark’s scent took on a prideful, slightly embarrassed note. Bruce rubbed at the hand around his waist, pushing out a burst of calmsafepack with a sunny smile directed at the crowd.
“Excellent,” the reporter said, nodding once. “Mr. Luthor, your relation to the happy couple?”
“Pack,” Lex said lazily, letting the word hang there for a moment before smiling. “We need to be on our way. Thank you, Ms. Hansen. Always appreciate your brevity.”
Hansen raised an eyebrow, not missing the jibe. “Mr. Luthor.”
Lex pulled them further down the carpet, chatting up various reporters as he did so. Bruce watched with amusement as the shock of seeing Lex Luthor -- good for selling pictures -- was overtaken by the knowledge that Lex Luthor was still a dangerous and escaped inmate from none other than Arkham Asylum.
But it was Gotham. And the city’s motto remained I didn’t see anything. The follow up was, of course, if I did, it’s not my business.
“Lexy,” a beta reporter called from the line, reaching out. “Can we get a photo?”
“For you, Billy, you can have two!” Lex said. “Lean in guys, let’s get this out of the way.”
They posed for the photo, Lex to Bruce’s left and Clark to his right. After the first flash, Lex pulled off to chat up the beta reporter, leaving them for a couple’s shot.
“Can we see that bump, Bruce? And the mating bite!” the camera man called out. “Hands off, Mr. Alpha! You’re blocking the shot!”
Clark shifted backward with a grin, removing his hand from Bruce’s belly and instead sliding it to the small of his back. He smelled inordinately pleased as Bruce’s bump was fully displayed to the world, a silent I told you so.
Bruce placed a hand under the swell of his bump, outlining its curve for the cameras. His smile was genuine, his instincts satisfied by the scent of Clark’s approval.
Ask him about it. But if I was a wagering omega -- and I’m not, or at least, not with your money -- I’d say that delicious little alpha brain of his wants people to know you’re his.
Lex was right again, it seemed. Bruce fought back a flush as Clark’s hand returned to his hip, stroking at the muscle there. The scent and the feeling of his alpha’s hand went straight between his legs.
“Okay?” Clark whispered, breath ghosting across Bruce’s face. Bruce exhaled through his nose, trying to clear it.
“Fine,” Bruce said, praying the warmth he was feeling in between his thighs wasn’t slick. “Let’s get inside. Lex is running behind on his own schedule.”
As if on cue, Lex finished his conversation with the beta reporter -- Billy -- and glided back toward them, cameras flashing at his back.
“Sorry, had to quash those harem rumors before they got too hot,” Lex said, nudging them toward the door. “Not that I don’t think a pack harem would be a nice little story, but they always tend to get the dynamics wrong.”
Clark held out his arm again as they approached the stairs to the venue. Bruce took it, waiting for Lex to step in front of them.
“They think it’s a harem of omegas?” Bruce asked. Lex tapped his nose, effortlessly surmounting the stairs in his wingtips.
“They’ve clearly never met Clark,” he said, quirking an eyebrow at the alpha in question. “You’re not really the type to have a harem full of omegas at your beck and call. Sorry.”
“I have a harem full of omegas who order me around,” Clark said, amused. “I don’t have a say in any of this.”
“That’s the spirit!”
The event space itself was old and grand, like many of the venues in Gotham. Clark had always appreciated their quiet grandeur, despite the obvious age and wear of the intervening years. They were the remnants of another time, when Gotham was a little less crime-laden. A little kinder.
It was bizarre to enter a space as a guest, and not with a press pass, but he didn’t let it faze him. The omega on his arm was his pass, and leaving Bruce to face this on his own was unthinkable.
The crowd inside the venue was, at the very least, a little quieter than the horde of press outside. However, they more than made up for the volume with scent. Every corner of the room smelled like thick, alpha challenge and overly-sweet omega pheromones, the scents fighting for dominance throughout the large space.
Clark resisted the urge to pull his own scent back again. His nose twitched at the sudden onslaught of alpha scent, instincts displeased at the proximity of competitors -- or threats.
Lex and Bruce didn’t react to the scents, but their expressions tightened minutely. Clark wondered, distantly, how often they’d had to subject themselves to this. To over-confident alphas and demure, sickeningly sweet omega persuasion.
“Don’t look so worried,” Lex said, reading Clark’s mind. “We’ve done this a million times.”
Safely away from the cameras, Clark allowed himself a brief frown. “Am I allowed to say I don’t like that you have to do this, or is that too harem alpha of me?”
Bruce, who had been looking at a passing tray of champagne with obvious longing, snorted. “Your disapproval is noted.”
“Not disapproval,” Clark gave into the urge to pull Bruce close, bundling him in his arms and briefly scenting him. “Just concern.”
Lex pointed at him, meeting his eyes directly. At a nearby table, someone gasped. “Remember my earlier warning.”
Clark gently disentangled from Bruce, smirking at the implied challenge. “Sir, yes sir.”
“Good,” Lex said, smelling pleased. “Bruce and I are due to go work the room about the plight of omegas in captivity. Go stand and look pretty somewhere.”
Bruce rolled his eyes, ignoring Lex’s nudge to start moving. “He means, we’ll be right back. Go get a drink. See if you can’t get one of those beta mothers to tell you something interesting.”
“Charm the beta mothers. Understood.” Clark took Bruce’s hand, laying a soft kiss on the top. He looked at his omega, chest suddenly growing tight. “Don’t stay away for long.”
The slight alpha rumble he’d let creep into his voice seemed to do the trick. Bruce flushed a pretty pink, ripping his hand away as Lex gave a low, genuine chuckle under his breath.
Clark watched as they disappeared into the crowd, amused by the tight, if casual, hold Lex had on Bruce’s arm. He had no doubt the other omega would be watching out for his packmate, and would defend him to the death if needed.
There was a certain kind of thrill in knowing that their pack was Pack. An indescribable warmth filled him, reassuring the instincts in the back of his mind that insisted a pregnant mate shouldn’t go far.
“That little minx giving you some trouble?”
Clark turned, surprised at the sudden flare of alpha pheromones. A blonde alpha stood behind him, holding two flutes of champagne.
The alpha was tall and surprisingly young. His hair was a vivid blonde, slicked back off his face with a copious amount of product. He stunk of alpha pheromones, like he’d re-scented himself several times in anticipation of the gala.
“Sorry?”
“Wayne,” the alpha said, wiggling the flute until Clark accepted. “I used to work with him. I know the type.”
So not a reporter after a story. Somehow, that put Clark’s instincts even more on edge. He didn’t drink from the flute, wary of the ring of alpha pheromones smeared into the glass.
“You used to work with Bruce?” Clark asked politely, prompting the other alpha.
“In his financial services office,” the alpha said, pointedly not offering his hand to Clark. “Brett Warren, VP of Finance in the WayneTech Division.”
“I’m Clark,” Clark said, purposefully not offering a last name or title. He could play this game too. Especially since this type of alpha posturing meant not engaging was winning.
“Clark,” Warren repeated, pushing out a wave of alpha scent as he did. “I haven’t seen you around these before. I’m sure Bruce dragged you out kicking and screaming.”
Clark shrugged, letting his scent roll out. “It’s important to support the work being done. And it’s only a few hours out of my night.”
From the way Warren’s nostrils twitched, that had clearly been the wrong answer. “Damn. He’s really got you whipped, huh? You’re even giving the party line when questioned.”
Clark smiled at him, playing dumb and not responding to the barb. “Not sure there’s a party line to give, actually. Just the truth.”
Warren took a sip from his champagne, his eyes never leaving Clark. “He certainly looks more relaxed than I’ve ever seen him before. I used to check in on him at these things, you know. Just to make sure people weren’t bothering him.”
“And were they?” Clark asked placidly, switching briefly into reporter mode. Warren shrugged.
“Not after he lost that pup, really. That scent really put everyone off. He smelled fucking miserable everywhere he went. I mean -- you just felt bad for him, you know? Thank god someone finally pupped him, right?”
Warren was oblivious to Clark’s sudden stillness, eyes scanning the room behind him. There was an arrogant set to his jaw, like Clark’s place beside him in the conversation was decided by nothing other than designation, and even then, reluctantly so.
“Hey, you gotta tell me -- one alpha to another,” Warren said, turning back to him. “Was that you? Because the papers keep saying it’s some turkey baster shit, and I just gotta know. If so, nice, my man.”
Clark stared at him, not blinking. His scent flared, free from the tight hold he normally kept on it. It was as close to a challenge as he could get, without outright growling.
After a moment of silence, Warren seemed to realize his misstep, edging backwards slightly.
“Hey,” he said, eyes wide. “I didn’t mean it like that, man. I’m sure it’s yours, yeah? Wayne isn’t the type to roll over for most alphas, anyway.”
“Really?” Clark asked, voice deceptively even. Warren seemed to shrink even further back into himself, eyes finally dropping to Clark’s chin.
Good, a part of him purred. The alpha part he didn’t normally listen to was appeased by the submission.
“Well, enjoy the champagne,” Warren said, ducking Clark’s stare and looking away. “I think I see my friend over there. I -- congrats, man.”
Clark held back a smile, waiting an appropriate few seconds before discarding his glass on a nearby tray. He made his way toward one of the bars in the corner, joining the line to kill some time.
A hand tugged at his sleeve, pulling his attention away from the room.
“Oh, he’s even cuter up close,” an older beta woman said, her hand caught like a vise around his sleeve. “Laura, come look at this. That hair.”
Another beta woman swiftly joined her friend, peering at Clark. She patted him on the cheek, leaving a burst of motherly scent behind. “Beautiful. You don’t see alphas that pretty anymore.”
“Thank you,” Clark drawled, prompting a tittering laugh from both of them. “That’s very kind of you.”
“Oh, and he has manners too!” the first beta woman said, releasing her hold on his sleeve. Clark straightened back up, instincts easing at the scent of several mild betas. “Are you single, Handsome?”
“Mated,” Clark said with a smile, noting their crestfallen expressions. “We’re expecting pups, actually.”
“Oh, how lovely,” the second beta -- Laura -- said. “A family man. That’s why he smells so nice, Rose. He’s got a pack of his own at home.”
“Laura and I spotted you talking to that awful Warren from across the room,” Rose informed Clark helpfully. “He certainly thinks he’s pack alpha material. He must have had a fun time meeting you.”
“I think he was just testing the waters,” Clark said, trying to remain somewhat neutral. He got the impression the two women were trained gossipers. “Not sure he found what he was looking for.”
“The only thing that pup is looking for is an excuse for a dominance fight,” Laura muttered, giving Warren’s corner of the room a dirty look. “We were actually hoping you might take him up on it and dust him up a little. You looked big enough to give it a fair shot.”
“I try to avoid dominance fights,” Clark said politely, pushing down a self-aware smile. “It looks like we’re next in line. Can I get you ladies something to drink?”
The swell of beta affection near the bar was notably strong. Laura nodded, taking initiative for them both. “That would be lovely, dear.”
“My pleasure,” Clark said, digging for his wallet for the tip jar. “Maybe you can repay me by letting me gush a little bit about my lovely mate?”
“Is he here tonight?” Rose asked, eyes widening. Clark nodded. “While pregnant?”
“He’s very stubborn.”
“Oh, love,” Laura said, fanning herself. “Tell us everything.”
“--and that’s why Arkham needs significant reform in how it places dynamics. Visiting Lex in Arkham made me realize how vulnerable omegas are, even in solitary confinement. It was atrocious, the conditions he was living in. Worse than anything we’d do to an alpha.”
“But Bruce,” a beta man in an ostentatious green suit cut in. “He escaped from Arkham. I’m not saying he needs to go back, but he shouldn’t be just -- running around!”
“He’s not running around,” Bruce rebutted, sounding irritated. “He’s on what amounts to house arrest. Pack authority trumps the original incarceration order. And I have full trust in our Pack to keep Lex in line and safe. If LexCorp has a problem with that, they’re more than welcome to challenge me in court.”
Lex chose that moment to re-join his packmate, holding out a flute of chilled water. Bruce accepted it without dropping his eyes from the beta, pushing out a brief burst of gratitude in his scent.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Lex said, sliding a hand around Bruce’s waist. “I hate to butt in, but our lovely Pack Omega is needed elsewhere. Would you excuse us?”
He silently reveled in the way several of Bruce’s captive audience paled at his appearance. The beta who’d been questioning Bruce ducked his head, scent going sharp with embarrassment.
Lex escorted Bruce away on his arm, allowing the fuming omega a few moments to calm down. He snagged a flute of champagne off a passing tray, wishing Bruce could imbibe with him.
It wasn’t a surprise to know that Gotham’s elite opposed his freedom. But it still stung to hear them talk so callously about returning him to Arkham -- like it was some lovely, locked down psychiatric hospital, and not some cavern in the cursed swamps of Gotham’s refuse.
He and Bruce were both assigned three conversations each about Lex’s absence from Arkham, as part of the plan. He’d completed all three without breaking, and Bruce had managed the same -- until this last conversation, at least.
“You know, stress isn’t good for the pups,” Lex said conversationally, tugging Bruce into the meager cover of a marble column. “I’m not sure your alpha would approve of you challenging entire corporations to a dominance fight. Even thinly veiled as a legal disagreement.”
“I know the people who belong in Arkham Asylum,” Bruce said, taking a sip of his icewater. His eyes were all Bat when they looked at Lex over the rim of his glass. “You’re not one of them.”
“But there will be other omegas who do.”
“Hopefully not,” Bruce said, wrinkling his nose. “But if there are, they deserve dynamic-specific care. Not just bite guards and solitary confinement.”
Lex took a breath, imagining the weight of the bite collar on his neck. He could still feel it, if he concentrated. “It’s not like they’re going to pick me up tonight and lock me away again.”
Bruce gave him a flat, serious look. Lex smiled back, touched by his Pack Omega’s obvious care.
“Anyway, I figured I’d give you a little break before we regrouped,” Lex said, nodding toward the western end of the room. “Clark is charming a whole crowd of beta mothers right now. And holding his own against a few curious players, if my sources are correct.”
Bruce puffed up slightly at the mention of other people, scent growing anxious. “We shouldn’t have left him alone.”
“We all agreed to the plan,” Lex said, pushing out a wave of packsafecalm until Bruce’s shoulders relaxed. “And like I said -- he’s fine. He even disarmed Brett Warren, believe it or not.”
“Warren?” Bruce asked.
“Works in one of the WayneTech divisions. Nasty alpha.” Lex wrinkled his nose. “He’s the one who always smells like alpha cologne. Big, blonde?”
Bruce blinked. “Ah. Him.”
“Anyway, I think Clark’s gotten a head start on both of us,” Lex set his champagne glass aside, offering his arm again. “Time for the pack section of the night. Ready? You don’t need a bathroom break or something?”
“Very funny,” Bruce said, taking his arm. “You realize they’re looking at you too, right?”
“Wondering if I’m carrying, I’m sure,” Lex said, rolling his eyes. “As if Clark is some kind of stud alpha. If they only knew.”
Before Bruce could respond, they reached the crowd of beta mothers around Clark, parting it like the Red Sea. Lex handed Bruce off to Clark, who looked genuinely relieved to see his mate.
“Everyone, this is my lovely mate,” Clark said, leaning down to kiss Bruce’s cheek. “Bruce, Laura was just telling me that your mother has an award named after her being presented tonight.”
From the frozen, awed look on the nearest beta woman -- presumably Laura -- no one had fully put together the pieces of Bruce Wayne and My mate before this moment. Lex covered his mouth before he was scolded for laughing.
“The Martha Wayne Award for Innovation Recognition,” Bruce said smoothly, reaching a hand out to Laura. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Bruce. Do you know one of the recipients?”
A small part of Lex remained fixated on his Pack Omega, even as the conversation slipped past him. Bruce’s bearing at the gala was a marked contrast from the last time Lex had seen him in public. He was more Bruce Wayne, Billionaire Omega than he’d been in years, a smooth-talking omega reigning far above the masses, regal despite his insistent familiarity.
Clark’s hand rested on his omega’s hip the entire time, a possessive, visible reminder of their connection. He nodded along with Bruce’s conversations, interjecting when appropriate. He was Bruce’s perfect complement in dark blue, taking on the mantle of Pack Alpha with effortless confidence.
It made Lex a little dizzy sometimes, seeing them both in their element at the same time. Some strange combination of pack chemistry that called directly to his instincts, reminding him exactly where in their orbit he was.
He was standing there, swaying with the feeling of packsafemine, when an alpha cleared his throat next to him.
Lex glanced to his left, hackles raising. A familiar pair of faces stared back at him, eerily similar. John Graham, a powerful alpha from one of the older Gotham families. And his knotheaded alpha son, John Graham Jr.
Great.
“Something stuck in your throat?” Lex asked, directing the question at the younger Graham.
“Just haven’t seen you in a while, Lex,” Graham Jr. said, pushing out a wave of disgusting alpha scent in welcome. “Heard you were in Arkham. How was that?”
“Junior,” the elder Graham cut in, scent flaring with annoyance. “That’s no way to speak with an omega.”
Lex smiled in thanks at the elder Graham, holding his hand out. The older alpha took it, raising it between them without scenting him.
There were still some old traditions Lex respected. Like alphas keeping their scent off unless explicitly asked. And actually deferring to omegas once in a blue moon.
“Nice to see you both,” Lex said, lying between his teeth. “If you’ve got something to say, Junior, might as well get out with it.”
Graham Jr. glared at him, eyes narrowing. “Were you always this frigid, or did Arkham really do a number on you?”
“JUNIOR.”
“Frigid is a funny word,” Lex said, leaning in toward the two alphas. He didn’t miss the way Graham Jr.’s eyes dilated slightly, responding to the proximity of a fertile omega. “I’m not the one being iced out by every available omega, am I?”
Color bloomed across Graham Jr.’s cheeks. The elder Graham looked away, letting out a resigned breath. “It’s not right.”
“What isn’t?”
“Wayne deferring to him. Some hick alpha no one’s ever heard of.” Graham Jr. shook his head, irritation sharpening his already sharp scent. “Everyone’s been trying for years to pin him down, and now some redneck just walks in here and pups him?”
It was a testament to his time with Bruce -- or possibly his time in Arkham -- that Lex didn’t immediately dive for Graham Jr.’s jugular with a broken champagne glass. The urge was still there -- oh, certainly. The need to protect his Pack Alpha and Omega from undue attention and slight. The desire to see lesser alphas bleed for their ignorance.
But they were secondary to Lex’s true goal. And he’d always been gifted at achieving said goal, time and time again.
“You sound a little peeved, Junior,” Lex said, not missing the way Clark’s eyes found his briefly over the alpha’s shoulder, watching him. “It almost seems like you’ve been found wanting. You and the parade of alphas Bruce usually encounters at these sorts of events, at least.”
Graham Jr. pushed back his shoulders, leaning into Lex’s space. The elder Graham grabbed his arm, unsuccessfully trying to pull him back. “You’re one to talk about being found wanting, Lex.”
“That is enough,” Graham Sr. growled, an alpha bass underpinning the near-command. “Junior, we’re leaving.”
“Wayne probably doesn’t even submit to him,” Graham Jr. continued, ignoring his father. “I mean, look at him. He’s as much alpha as I’ve got in my pinky toe. He won’t even make eye contact with me, and I’m standing over his supposed packmate.”
He’s not making eye contact with you because you’re nothing to him, Lex seethed. You useless knot.
“It was lovely to see you, Mr. Graham,” Lex said, ignoring Junior in favor of his father. “I read about your work with the Omega Sanctuary Foundation in the paper. We should have coffee sometime, discuss how our Packs can work together on furthering support for the issue.”
Graham Sr. reached out one last time, raising up Lex’s hand again. “You are stunning as always, Mr. Luthor. Please accept an apology on behalf of my son for his behavior tonight.”
“Declined,” Lex said lightly. “With my regrets, of course. I’ll see you soon, John.”
He felt the weight of both alpha’s stares on his back as he dove back into the crowd, aiming for his packmates. By the time he got to Clark’s side, squeezing in between two beta society mothers, Graham Jr.’s fury was a pungent cloud over the whole space.
“You okay?” Clark asked, glancing away from his and Bruce’s current conversation -- about pickleball, of all things -- to check on him.
“I’m going to fuck with him,” Lex said, smiling beatifically up at his alpha. “Is he still watching me?”
Clark didn’t look up, but then again, he didn’t need to. “The younger one is, yeah.”
“Good,” Lex said. “One moment, please.”
He reached out for another passing tray, snagging a glass of champagne just as the waiter stepped around the crowd. As he did so, he made direct eye contact with Graham Jr., not letting his gaze drop for a second.
Graham Jr. stared back, alpha fury boiling in his eyes. His shoulders were pushed back, chest puffed out, every inch of his posture demanding Lex’s submission.
He wouldn’t get it.
Carefully -- oh so sultrily, holding the alpha’s gaze the entire time -- Lex let his eyes drift back to Clark, tipping his head back to stare up at the taller alpha.
Clark stared down at him, an amused smile tugging at his lips. He was stunningly alpha, the world going gray at the edges from the sheer weight of his presence alone. “Enjoying yourself?”
Lex let a soft whine trickle out between his lips, tilting his head to the side and baring his throat in obvious submission. Exaggerated for Graham Jr.’s sake, but not at all contrived. There was something about Clark that made him want to submit.
As he did so, Graham Jr.’s scent flared with renewed fury. Lex watched with some satisfaction as, out of the corner of his eye, he saw the younger Graham flee the gala, his father trailing after him.
A camera flashed somewhere nearby. Lex winked at Clark, tilting his chin back to its normal position.
“You’re not helping the harem rumors,” the alpha grumbled, though he didn’t sound that put off. Lex knew submission was like crack for most alphas -- it made all the chemicals in their brains happy.
“He insulted you,” Lex said quietly, scoffing. “You’re lucky Bruce didn’t hear him. We would’ve been pulling him out of a dominance fight, pregnant or not.”
Clark’s hand tightened around Bruce’s waist. The alpha gave Lex a loaded look, turning back to his conversation with a tight smile pasted on his face.
Lex didn’t miss the quick flare of possessiveness in Clark’s scent. He filed it away for later, turning to a few of the beta mothers who seemed to be in conversation near him. When in Rome -- do as the Romans do.
“Excuse me ladies,” he said, putting on a Clark Kent smile of his own. “Would any of your sons happen to be single, by chance?”
The wave of beta enthusiasm that created nearly knocked him off of his feet.
The longer the night went on, the more Clark’s touch seemed to affect him. Even though he wasn’t drinking, he certainly felt buzzed -- the room was warm, and Clark’s scent was like a drug, in all the right ways.
Bruce was grateful for the close grip his alpha had on him, even though Clark’s touch was a delicious kind of torture. Clark’s touch, his confidence, his ability to lead a conversation -- it was all more than he’d anticipated. So much more alpha than he’d ever seen Clark, for such an extended amount of time.
It was dizzying and heady. It kept his body warm and flushed the entire evening, soothing the irritation from his previous conversations. Clark’s scent also seemed to have a secondary effect of warding off all nearby alphas, keeping their sharp scents away from his sensitive nose.
The only problem with the evening so far -- other than Lex’s sudden disappearance a few minutes prior -- was the wetness Bruce could feel between his legs, soaking his underwear more and more as the night went on.
It was like Clark knew what kind of effect he was having on him. The alpha’s hand never left his hip, waist, or the small of his back. When others approached, his scent took on a brief -- but noticeable -- sharpness, at odds with the rest of his easy going scent.
Bruce had been gulping down ice water the entire night, trying to cool the heat building in his body. The clinical part of his brain -- rapidly dissolving into goo like the rest of his brain -- attributed it to the reaction between Clark’s scent and those of competing alphas. Some omegas smelled sweeter when there was a conflict in scents. Even mated ones, it seemed.
The theory would hold more weight if Clark appeared affected, but the alpha was frustratingly cool. He traded off conversations with Bruce, effortlessly calm as he laid the groundwork for their pack in front of Gotham’s beta elite.
Halfway through his fourth glass of water -- and Lex had been right earlier, he was going to need a bathroom break soon -- Clark tensed up for the first time, his hand tightening around Bruce’s hip.
Bruce looked up, concerned. A young alpha holding a camera waved at him awkwardly, carefully not meeting Bruce’s eyes.
“Mr. Wayne, if we could just have a photo for the newsletter,” the alpha stuttered, “That would be, uh great…”
Clark’s hand dug into Bruce’s hip. Bruce rolled his eyes, handing his water glass off to his alpha.
“Of course. Where do you want me?”
“Um,” the photographer looked pained, eyes now on the floor in front of Bruce’s shoes. “Right over by that -- that column would be good?”
Bruce heard Clark make his excuses behind him. He hid a smile behind his hand, nodding at the photographer. “Okay. Let’s do this.”
He stepped up before the column, waiting patiently for the photographer to get in position. Clark stood behind the younger alpha, just far enough back to not be outright looming.
“Alright, Mr. Wayne. R-ready when you are.”
Bruce smiled at the camera, cradling his bump. The camera flashed once.
“One more, if that’s okay, sir,” the younger alpha said, voice squeaky. Bruce nodded, angling himself more toward the camera.
“Take your time.”
As if drawn by gravity itself, his gaze drifted back to Clark’s face. The alpha was staring directly at him, his eyes dark and heavy with instinct.
Bruce swallowed, feeling a new wave of warmth between his legs. Clark’s scent was suddenly restrained, but he didn’t need scent to know what his alpha was thinking at that moment.
On a sudden impulse, he put both hands under his belly, cradling the bump to make it even more obvious. He lifted his eyes to the camera and then to the left, meeting Clark’s stare head-on.
Yours, Alpha, he tried to convey through look alone. They’re all yours. Look at them.
Bruce heard the distinct sound of a champagne flute breaking as the camera flashed. He smiled even wider, quietly thrilled by the effect he’d had on his mate.
The photographer snapped one more photo, apologizing the entire time. Bruce barely heard a word he said, nodding along until the alpha hurried away.
Clark was still standing a few feet away, frozen in place. His eyes were dilated with instinct, a hint of his fangs poking out between his lips. Bruce approached him, reaching out for his alpha’s hand.
“I swear I asked you to hold this for me,” he teased, unfolding Clark’s hand from the handful of shattered glass that had once been a champagne flute. “Not break it.”
“I’m sorry,” Clark breathed, not sounding remotely sorry. “I’ll get you a new one.”
“I think,” Bruce said, sliding a thumb across Clark’s pulse point. God, he was dizzy. “I think it’s time to make our excuses. And -- find Lex.”
“Okay,” Clark said, sounding dazed. “I can -- call Alfred. You find Lex.”
“Sure you don’t want to do that together?” Bruce asked. X-ray vision tended to help such endeavors. Clark made a pained noise at the question, eyes closing. “Alright.”
“Find Lex,” Clark breathed. A thread of something that was almost alpha command wove through his voice, like he could barely hold it back. “Meet me outside. If I see you before then, I -- won’t be responsible.”
“Responsible,” Bruce teased, releasing Clark’s wrist. “We wouldn’t want that.”
It wasn’t fair, teasing each other like this. But there was a certain thrill to it -- seeing a suave alpha like Clark handle the night so well, only to be brought to the edge by a simple look. By a thumb across the skin of his wrist, stroking Bruce’s scent into the glands there.
He pulled away before he could do something ill-advised in polite company, baring his throat to Clark as he went. The alpha made another pained noise, like he’d been punched in the gut.
Bruce went on the hunt for Lex. The other omega seemed to have disappeared from the main event entirely, which meant one of two things -- either he’d gone home, or he was in one of the many hookup locations scattered around the property.
The third location Bruce checked -- a hallway near the service elevators -- had the tell-tale scent of a pleased omega wafting through it. Lex’s scent had taken on a sweetness it didn’t usually hold, sweet and sour berries turning into something syrupy and sugared.
He turned the corner, eyes politely averted, but it was hard to miss the tangle of bodies against the nearby wall. Lex’s head was thrown back against the brick, hands clenched in the hair of a strong-smelling alpha between his legs.
Before Bruce could retreat, Lex made a low, desperate noise in the back of his throat, pushing his hips forward. The smell of pleased omega spiked in the enclosed space, hot and intoxicating.
It wasn’t helping Bruce’s own predicament. He swallowed, letting Lex ride the aftershocks of his orgasm before letting out a quiet chirp.
Across the hallway, Lex’s eyes flew open. He immediately pushed the alpha’s head away, yanking up his pants.
“Time to go?” he asked Bruce, surprisingly well coordinated for someone that tipsy and fresh off what certainly smelled like a fantastic orgasm. “Okay. Time to go. Look at you.”
Lex quickly dressed, brushing off the waiting alpha with a lewd promise Bruce knew he had no intention of fulfilling later. The other omega strutted in his direction, refastening his belt as he went.
“Having fun?” Bruce asked, throwing Lex’s own phrasing back in the omega’s face. Lex mock-growled at him, the effect slightly diminished by the wide grin across his face.
“I figured you would find me if you needed me,” Lex said with a shrug. “Which you did. With perfect timing -- he was saying something about knotting my throat, and you know how I feel about that.”
“I don’t, but I’m not sure I want to,” Bruce said, grabbing onto Lex’s arm for support. “Clark went to call Alfred. He should be here soon.”
“Mr. Wayne, are you drunk?” Lex asked, shaking his arm for emphasis. “Wait till Leslie hears you were partaking in the champagne. She’ll handcuff you to the nest.”
“I’m not drunk,” Bruce protested. “I’m just -- Clark.”
“Clark,” Lex repeated.
“You know, that thing.”
“The scent thing.”
“That thing, yes.”
Lex’s grin was close to maniacal. “I see. So we’re getting out of here early for a booty call.”
“You’re welcome to stay,” Bruce said, gesturing at the hallway behind them where -- presumably -- the alpha from before was still getting reconnoitered. “Alfred won’t mind doing two trips.”
“Not really my style,” Lex said, avoiding the implied question. “Where is Clark meeting us?”
“Outside,” Bruce said, wobbling slightly as Lex stumbled. “Lex.”
“What?” Lex asked.
“How much champagne did you have?”
“Two glasses,” Lex said, shrugging. “Why?”
“I think,” Bruce was trying to focus. “I think we’re a little drunk. Both of us.”
“That’s those lovely pack bonding pheromones,” Lex said, patting his cheek. In his state, it was almost a smack. “Very nice buzz. I feel amazing.”
Bruce couldn’t relate. There was an ache between his legs and a growing puddle of slick in his underwear. His body was trembling, every cell in his body yearning for Clark and their nest.
“Okay, we’re going outside now,” Lex said, guiding them toward the door. “You’re going to send this whole place into rut if you’re not careful.”
“I’m mated,” Bruce mumbled.
“Doesn’t matter, sugar bear. Happy omega is happy omega, whichever way you slice it.”
Bruce stumbled, tugging at Lex’s arm until the other omega stopped. “Lex. Did you mean that?”
“Mean what?” Lex asked, staring at him in confusion.
“That I’m -- happy. That I smell happy.”
Lex’s scent softened. The other omega reached out with his free hand, cupping Bruce’s chin in a rare demonstration of affection.
“Yeah, I do,” Lex said quietly. “Now. Let’s get you to your alpha.”
“Here we are,” a familiar voice called. “One giggly omega, as requested.”
Clark held his arms out as Bruce was pushed toward him, reaching for the omega. He breathed in the scent of Bruce’s hair, instincts settling at the feeling of his mate back in his arms.
Lex stood in front of them both, allowing them a small moment of privacy. He was sharp-eyed despite being somewhat intoxicated, watching the line of cars for Alfred.
“I missed you,” Bruce mumbled against his chest. He was purring on and off, small vibrations that dug into Clark’s very being. “Lex was having sex in the service hallway.”
“I was getting eaten out,” Lex corrected, not even pretending he wasn’t listening in. “By a very enterprising alpha. Having sex implies there were clothes being taken off.”
Clark pressed his lips together, deciding not to comment on that. He tightened his arms around Bruce, squeezing once. “Ready to go home?”
“Please,” Bruce said, muffled. “Want you.”
The whine underpinning the last two words was a surprise to all present. Clark stared at Lex, a silent question passing between them.
“Oh thank God,” Lex said, pointing down the street. “There’s Alfred. What a night of perfect timing. Let’s get moving.”
Between the two of them, they managed to bundle Bruce into the back of Alfred’s car with minimal exposure. The exit was off limits to the press, thankfully, and most of the guests were still inside.
Clark climbed in next to Bruce, shutting the door behind him. Alfred’s beta scent immediately sunk into his senses, calming some of the anxiety building in his chest.
“A good night was had by all, it seems,” Alfred said, turning around to greet them over the lowered privacy divider. “Where to?”
“The house, please,” Clark said, before Lex could jump in with a joke. “As quickly as possible.”
Alfred raised his eyebrows but complied, cranking the wheel and pulling back out into the street. Clark closed his eyes, trying to find the will to hold still as Bruce squirmed against him.
“Would you stop poking me?” Lex groused, pinned to the other door by Bruce as he moved. “You’re going to -- oh, and he’s on Clark’s lap now.”
Clark groaned as Bruce sat down straight on his cock, positioning himself across his lap. Bruce’s pants were soaked, the black fabric hiding just how much of a mess he’d made of himself.
“Fuck this, I don’t know why I didn’t just sit in the front seat,” Lex hissed, clambering forward. “Alfred! I’m coming up there.”
Clark ignored him as Bruce leaned forward, pressing their lips together. He kissed back hungrily, hands going to Bruce’s hips and squeezing until the omega let out a breathy moan.
Distantly, he registered Lex climbing none-too-gracefully into the front seat, tumbling over the divider. The privacy screen went up a moment later, separating them from the rest of the car.
Clark tipped Bruce back into the now-open backseat, reaching for his fly. He tugged the omega’s pants and underwear down in one motion, pushing his face between Bruce’s legs and plunging his tongue into the omega’s cunt.
The scent of pleased omega increased tenfold, sharpened by desire. Clark redoubled his efforts, licking into Bruce until he was sobbing above him, face pressed into the leather.
He brought Bruce off twice before they made it home. When Lex opened the back door -- presumably to help them out -- he leveled Clark with a vicious glare.
“What?” Clark asked, lifting Bruce up into his arms. Alfred forged ahead of them, disappearing into the kitchen like a man on a mission.
“You owe me a pair of new underwear,” Lex said, crossing his arms. He was standing stiffly, legs rigid. “Need any help?”
“Just the nest,” Clark said, shaking his head. “Will you and Alfred--”
“We’ll be fine,” Lex stepped ahead of him, opening the door for them. “Just go get settled. Everything else can be picked up in the morning.”
Clark smiled at him, pushing his gratitude into his scent. “Thanks, Lex. For all of it.”
“I said go, didn’t I?” the omega said petulantly, gesturing at the nest. “If you need me, I’ll be drowning my sorrows with Alfred in a very nice bottle of Macallan Anniversary Malt.”
Clark nodded, adjusting Bruce in his arms as he pushed open the bedroom door. Jason was fast asleep in the far corner, curled up under one of Bruce’s blankets.
Suddenly exhausted, he placed Bruce in the center of the nest, arranging him so he was comfortable among the pillows. He pulled off his jacket, throwing it to the side, and curled up around his mate.
“Mhm,” Bruce said, feeling Clark’s nose at his neck. He grinded back into his alpha, feeling an answering hardness against his ass. “Feels nice.”
“Two’s not enough for you?” Clark said softly, smelling amused. His hands drifted across Bruce’s belly, undoing the buttons of his shirt and vest, one by one.
“Want your knot,” Bruce murmured, arching his back pointedly. Clark made another punched out sound behind him, his hands stilling momentarily. “Please, alpha.”
“Jason’s -- asleep in the nest, Bruce.”
“Don’t care,” Bruce said, grinding back in slow circles against Clark’s cock. “He’ll sleep through it. Please.”
Clark’s hands went to his hips, squeezing the same place as before. Bruce was certain he’d have bruises there. “You are -- impossible to say no to.”
He was gently undressed and guided to his knees in just a few moments. The press of Clark into him made them both shudder, trembling together as everything seemed to fall back into place.
Clark took him slowly in the nest, neither of them desperate for things to end. He covered Bruce’s back in kisses, fucking into him in slow, lazy thrusts.
Bruce closed his eyes, humming. He could hear Alfred and Lex in the kitchen, laughing about something he couldn’t make out. Jason was snoring next to them in the nest, his scent even and peaceful in sleep.
The feeling that washed over him when Clark’s knot caught was euphoria. Euphoria, or something close to it. It stole the very breath from his lungs, sending him into a trembling, aching orgasm that never seemed to stop.
“I love you,” Clark whispered against his neck, cradling his bump with both hands.
Bruce pressed his face into the nest, breathing in packpackpack. It was so easy now, to let the words come that hadn’t before. With an alpha pinning him into the safety of the nest. With a pack at his fingertips, warm and content.
“I love you too.”
Later. A warehouse in Gotham.
“I want that omega. Alive.”
The betas working around him weren’t suicidal enough to stop, but they looked awful close. One of them -- a short, sweaty man -- took a step forward, gulping.
“You want us to g-get -- Bruce Wayne?”
He smiled, staring up at the screen. It was such a prominent bump. “And his puppies, too. They can stay in there for a little while longer, I guess.”
No one dared to question the order. But the beta frozen before him was practically oozing why? from his scent glands.
These men were from Gotham. And they still liked Prince Bruce Wayne, long as his reign had languished. They liked the pretty little sad omega, who stunk up every place he visited like a pitiful house cat.
“You want to ask me, don’t you,” he said, reaching out to the fearful beta. He dug his finger under the man’s collar, tracing at the edges of his scent glands. It was covered in sweat and dirt. Filthy and unremarkable.
“S-sir.”
“Because,” the Joker said, turning back to the screen. He rubbed his beta-stinking finger on his pants, wrinkling his nose. “He’s got pups in his belly. And I didn’t put them there.”