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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 Rao 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.


"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.