Chapter Text
The call came at midnight, right before Bruce was supposed to set out for patrol. He hadn't even put on his suit yet when an alert came in on the Batcomputer from Superman. Of course, Bruce dropped everything to answer. It's what a good friend would do.
Kal's face and shoulders filled the screen, with skin bright red and sweat beading at his brow. He's panting, too. Bruce's eyes wandered across the expanse of tan skin he could see, but snapped back when his friend opened his mouth.
"B-b," he panted, "I, uh, I wasn't sure who to call." Supes tried for a smile, but it looked more like a grimace. "I need s-some help."
"Of course, what's wrong?" Bruce forced himself to focus, but it was hard with the way those broad shoulders were heaving up and down.
Kal-El looked pained and embarrassed as he said, "I'm going into rut."
A record scratched in the back of Bruce's mind. Oh… Oh. Of course, it was something like this.
Bruce always wore scent patches when he was around the league, but that wasn't always enough for metahumans like Superman or Wonder Woman. Both alphas (because what else would they be?) were almost immediately able to smell that Bruce was an omega.
They were kind enough not to comment, and his designation might not have meant anything to Wonder Woman, but Superman seemed to take it harder. For a few days, he seemed to treat Bruce like glass, or at least gentler than normal. He stopped after Bruce saved him from another Luthor-plot, but it still happened.
And now he was calling Bruce for help with a rut.
"I apologize," Bruce said coldly, "I can't help you at this time."
Kal-El's face crumpled, and Bruce oddly felt bad for a second. But only a second. No matter how much of a failure of an omega he was, Bruce isn't the type to spread his legs for just anyone.
"I-I didn't mean like that."
Bruce fought the urge to roll his eyes and began internally dictating his resignation from the League, "I'm sure you didn't." This is why he didn't work outside of Gotham.
Kal winced, "Please let me explain," he begged. Bruce raised a brow and crossed his arms. He nodded a go-ahead, and Kal-El took that as his cue to begin rambling while refusing to look at the screen head-on.
"Kryptonians are built differently," he said quickly, "We don't have normal ruts, and while in rut we get real aggressive, can't do much of anything for ourselves." Kal-El laughed bitterly, "We're expected to have an omega by then, so they can take care of us. I'm not asking you to, um, s-sleep with me." His ears were bright red, and Bruce had to push down a laugh. "I was only wondering if you'd be able to keep me locked up."
That was… different.
"Keep you locked up?" Bruce asked, "What exactly does that mean?"
Kal flushed an even brighter red, if that was possible. "I'm at the Fortress," he said quietly, "And I'm worried that I'll get out and start attacking people if no one stops me." He looked back at the camera, at Bruce, "You're the strongest person I know, so I was hoping you could help me. Please?"
A purr tried to claw its way up Bruce's throat, but he shoved it back down. The Man of Steel considered him, defective omega human Bruce Wayne, strong enough to keep him captive?
How sweet, almost.
"Do you not have built-in security?" Bruce huffed and crossed his arms.
"Yes, but they can be turned off if I give the word," Kal explained, "Not the most secure. I'm hoping the scent of an omega inside will keep the Fortress locked, e-even if we don't mate." Interesting, something to be broken down and examined at a later date.
Bruce pinched his nose, "Have you thought about the fact that I have a civilian identity? I might have things to do, Superman."
"Um… do you?"
No. But he didn't need to know that.
Plans and expectations swirled in Bruce's head, though there isn't much he has to do. Brucie Wayne only ever goes to parties, and Mr. Wayne, head of WE, has people he pays to take care of his business for him. Being Batman is most of when Bruce can get out of the manor meaningfully.
"Fine," he growled under his breath, "Send the coordinates, and I'll see what I can do."
Kal-El smiled widely, and Bruce tried to ignore the way it made his scent spike and heart skip a beat. It was like the man was made of sunshine itself. "Thanks, B," he panted, "I really, really appreciate it."
Bruce grunted and hung up, adjusting his pants before calling out to inform Alfred of his most recent obligation.
The Fortress of Solitude is, in a word, cold. Bruce huffed and wrapped his cape tight around himself, but didn't even think of leaving. Yes, they wouldn't be mating, but Bruce didn't want to waste this opportunity to explore an alien encampment.
"Thank Rao, you're here," Superman said, his voice echoing off the icy walls. Bruce spun around and couldn't stop the gasp that formed in his chest.
Kal was almost completely naked, dressed only in tiny, tight red briefs. He was flushed red on his shoulders and chest, sweat dripping down his skin. Even his hair, normally kept neat and tidy, was a mess. Sex hair, looking like someone had been raking their fingers through it.
And his cock.
Bruce swallowed and looked away from the gigantic, twitching mass tucked into his friend's underwear. But a quick glance revealed that it seemed about as thick as Bruce's forearm, and maybe the length of it, too.
"Hello, Superman," Bruce said lowly, trying to keep his wits about him. "Aren't you supposed to be in your nest right now?" Unless Kryptonians didn't nest the same as humans.
Even if omegas are the more likely sex to build a nest, stereotypically, even alphas responded well to a safe space filled with the scents of loved ones. Betas needed them the least, but most still built one, but only if they didn't have a packmate to do it for them.
Kal stepped closer to Bruce, who stepped back, not wanting to be caught in the rut-strong ozone scent. "I'm sorry," he said. "I just- I heard you, and I couldn't stop myself from- from coming to see you." His bright blue eyes scanned Bruce, up and down, lingering on his cowl. The scent of displeased alpha filled the room. "You can take off your cowl, um, if you want?" Superman's eyes sparkled with hope.
Bruce snorted, "No way, Big Blue, the cowl stays on." He had lessened the number of scent patches layered on his neck gland, just to see if it would help calm a rutting alpha. It was unlikely, but fingers crossed. Bruce's scent wasn't very soothing, and he was well aware of that. Kal pouted, but didn't argue.
There was a quick tour of the Fortress, or at least the parts Bruce needed to see, and as Kal-El told the story of his home-away-from-home, his scent got thicker and more potent.
And Bruce got wetter.
Superman apparently got a whiff of it, based on his soft whining and sideways glances at Bruce, but he never mentioned it outright. Bruce was grateful for it; he didn't think he'd be able to live down the shame of being turned on by his friend's scent.
"U-uh, this can be your room," Kal cleared his throat and motioned to a room off the main entrance hall. The bed was big, even for Bruce, with thick fur blankets and pillows upon pillows. "I'm right down the hall," Kal-El gestured to a room a bit further down, "This way I can, um…" Still smell you.
Bruce was smart. He understood completely. "Copy," he said gruffly, "How much longer until you go into full rut?"
"I'm honestly barely holding myself back," Kal said quietly, almost whimpering, "You smell so gosh darn good, B."
That had to have been a lie, but Bruce still felt his cheeks heat up under his cowl, "Kal-"
"I know! I know how it sounds," he interrupted, "But it's true! You- you smell like home to me, and it just makes me wanna…" His bulge twitched
Bruce forced himself to scowl, "We're colleagues, Superman, and trust me, you don't want me as an omega."
Kal-El's face twisted, "Why not? You're- you're amazing!" He grabbed Bruce's hand, tugging him close, "B, you're so smart, and kind, and watching you do anything just makes me realize how lucky I am to have you in my life!" Superman brushed his lips against Bruce's knuckles, "I think anyone would be honored to mate with you."
And wasn't that just everything Bruce wanted to hear and more?
Superman's alien scent, pure ozone, was oddly enticing and getting stronger as the minutes passed. Usually, it burned Bruce's nose, but that feature had mellowed out. Deepening into the smell of air after a rainstorm.
"It isn't that simple," Bruce scoffed, pushing down his lust.
Kal frowned, "Says who?"
"Kryptonians have different desires in mates than humans," Bruce said, "You wouldn't understand." It wasn't meant to be rude or condescending, but it unintentionally came out as such, making him wince.
"I was raised human!" Kal barked before wincing, "Sorry. I- I understand." His eyes watered, "I know what people might say about you."
While Superman and Wonder Woman might be able to discern his dynamic, Bruce's scent patches were supposed to block any specific scent. So, no, Kal-El didn't "understand." Omegas were meant to smell comforting and sweet, a stark contrast to the leather-y smell Bruce and his slick emitted. Most alphas took one deep sniff, and their nose would crinkle.
Kal-El would as well, if he could scent Bruce. He reached up and yanked his scent patch off, staring at Superman to watch his face twist in disgust.
But that wasn't what happened.
Instead, Kal closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. When they opened again, his pupils were blown wide. "You smell delicious," he said, voice breathy and dripping with need.
Bruce's breath hitched, and he slowly, very slowly, like Kal was a skittish animal about to run, held out his wrist. He avoided looking down, but the way his smell deepened gave away the full extent of Kal-El's arousal. Kal licked his lips and immediately grabbed Bruce's wrist, bringing it to his mouth and laving his tongue over the scent gland there. He groaned at the taste.
"Please," Kal whimpered, "Please, B."
Bruce swallowed. "Okay," he said softly, "I've got you, Kal." He held out his other arm, and Kal-El didn't hesitate to push Bruce against the wall, pressing his abdomen to Bruce's. Even through the cloth of his pants, meant to ward off the chill of the Arctic, he could still feel the twitching of Kal's cock.
He wondered if Kal could feel how wet he was getting, too.
Kal-El whimpered again and began moving his hips, humping Bruce's leg like a dog, and through it all, he didn't stop lapping at Bruce's wrist. Bruce was panting as well, his pussy oozing and soaking through both his pads and his pants.
"B," Kal choked out, "B, you're so wet. Please lemme-" He cut himself off with a loud moan, but Bruce could catch a hint. He fumbled with his belt, letting his pants unceremoniously drop to the ground. His underwear, utilitarian grey boyshorts, had a dark patch where he was slowly leaking onto them. Kal's fingers trembled as he gently stroked that wet patch.
Bruce clenched his jaw, biting back a moan. It was barely any pressure, but Bruce had been neglecting himself recently. There'd been no time. "Don't tease," he ordered breathily, "You can touch me."
The smile that Kal gave Bruce was absolutely blinding, and he didn't hesitate to shove Bruce's underwear down around his thighs. Bruce moaned as the alpha pressed a thick finger inside of him, using a thumb to stroke the underside of his cock.
But Kal-El didn't bother to touch himself.
"Take your clothes off," Bruce panted, "Now." Kal-El whined and shook his head, his first refusal, probably ever. He almost always gave in to Batman's desires, even during League meetings.
"My, um, my penis and knot look a bit different," he said nervously, cheeks red. "They can be a bit off-putting."
Bruce blinked and gently pushed Kal-El back, the alpha softly whining at the lack of touch. "What do you mean by different?" When Kal didn't say anything, just continued to stare at the floor, Bruce gripped him by the jaw and made him look up, "Kal-El, what do you mean by different?"
"Just," he took a breath, "Please don't be scared of me?"
That got a snort out of Bruce, but he acquiesced and let Kal step back and push the front of his briefs down.
It was certainly different.
Kal-El's penis looked almost like an earthworm, but thicker. No, wait, scratch that… No, a worm, definitely. A very tanned worm. The end was tapered, with slightly darker rings every few inches down. It even seemed to move like a worm, pathetically trying to wriggle towards Bruce. Every so often, it would shake, and a bead of what had to be precum would dribble out the top.
"I'm sorry," Kal said, trying to tuck it away, "I know it's weird, but I should be fine if we just-!"
"Who said you could put it away?" Bruce said with a soft glare. "Your cock looks just fine. I just need a minute to get used to it." He reached out to hover near it, like the thing was a dog that needed to sniff his hand. It wiggled towards him, seemingly heat-seeking.
Kal bit his lip and let out a soft, stifled moan as Bruce gently stroked the tip, spreading the pre with his fingers. "Y-you're really good at that," he whispered between more soft moans. Bruce didn't say anything, just pushed the briefs all the way down to fondle Kal's testicles. They were firm and heavy.
"If I let you fuck me," Bruce said, making Kal-El look at him again, "You have to do what I say, okay?"
"Always, B."
Bruce stared for a minute, seeing only earnest excitement on Kal's face, and sighed. He reached back and took off his cowl, letting it fall to the floor. Kal-El sputtered, eyes wide.
"I'm Bruce Wayne," he said quietly. An omega who was famously infertile. Damaged goods.
Kal's breath sputtered, and his hand reached out to cup Bruce's cheek, "You're beautiful," he said, wiping at the eye makeup Bruce had smeared under his mask. "It doesn't matter if you can have pups or not. I don't care." Kal gulped, "I've written about you, you know. Daily Planet."
Bruce's mind connected the dots instantly. A large reporter with dark hair and blue eyes, one who wrote one of the nicest articles about him that Bruce had ever read. Clark Kent.
"Seriously," Bruce snorted, "Glasses?"
"It's a good secret identity!"
Bruce and Clark laughed together, sharing a quiet moment in the middle of his rut. It was broken by Clark's cock, moving out to rub against Bruce's smaller penis. Both men groaned, and Clark pressed his face to the scent gland on Bruce's neck. The smell of petrichor and ozone came back in full force, mixing with Bruce's passion fruit and leather.
"Do you have a nest, alpha?" Bruce whispered, feeling the shiver go down Clark's spine.
"Yes, omega," he said, reaching down to pick Bruce up and wrap Bruce's calves around his waist. Clark didn't struggle in the slightest.
The door to Clark's nest was kicked open, and Bruce quickly found himself dumped in a mess of blankets, clothes, and pillows. He smelled farmland, apple pie, and coffee undercut by cherry wine and lead. The nest was a circular sunken pit in the middle of the room, with furs pinned to the walls. Bruce sniffed and adjusted a few things until his nerves settled, Clark watching just outside the nest with an intense look on his face.
He waited until Bruce was settled before he leaned in to kiss Bruce gently. Bruce immediately opened his mouth and let Clark lick inside. He tasted like doughnuts, probably a quick breakfast before his rut hit.
"Omega," Clark breathed against Bruce's neck, trailing kisses down his neck and tugging at the hem of his shirt, "Can I? Can I?"
Bruce grinned and pulled his shirt over his head. His breasts were small, more pecs than boobs, but he was proud of them. They were cute. And Clark seemed to think so, too, his eyes and mouth drawn to them immediately.
"Clark!" Bruce hissed and gripped his hair, "No biting!" Clark pulled off with a whine, but Bruce didn't fucking care! His nipples were already sensitive, and now they had a pronounced bitemark around them.
Clark pressed a kiss to his scent gland in apology, gently spreading Bruce's legs to allow for his inhuman penis to explore Bruce's opening.
"Does it have a mind of its own?" Bruce asked, biting his lips and watching as the tip stroked up his cock.
"I don't think so," Clark said, "I'm pretty sure it's just attracted to heat. Not really a mind, more like- oh fuck!" He threw his head back, and both men moaned. The tip of Clark's cock had pushed itself inside of Bruce's pussy, and was wiggling around trying to get deeper. It felt almost like a vibrator, just one that moved more.
Bruce gripped Clark's shoulder and wrapped his legs around the alpha's waist, "In me, p-put more in me." If he had to guess, Bruce would say it was about nine and a half inches, with a ring on each third.
Clark nodded and gently pressed forward, groaning whenever Bruce clenched. Slick gushed out of Bruce, being pushed out by the sheer girth.
Bruce's head was spinning, the scent of horny alpha making him weak and pliable. But he pushed it down and forced his body to move, pulling Clark close while the prehensile monster in his pants made room for itself against the opening of Bruce's womb.
It had to be there. There was no way it wasn't. That or his damn throat.
Clark stilled when their hips pressed together. He panted, "You're so tight, B, and wet." He pressed open-mouth kisses to Bruce's face. Nose, eyes, cheeks, anywhere he could reach. "I love being inside you, thank you, thank you…" Clark devolved into mumbles, humping against Bruce's pussy.
Later on, when Bruce is actually able to breathe without cock getting in the way, he'll snort and roll his eyes. Moving his hips didn't seem like it would do much of anything, especially if Clark's penis was actually heat-seeking.
But that was for future experimentation.
Now was the time for Bruce to growl under his breath and work his hips against Clark's. Those ribs were scraping wonderfully against his insides, sending shocks of pleasure up and down his spine. Not to mention the tip that was exploring Bruce's vaginal opening.
Clark sobbed loudly and pressed as far inside Bruce as he could, those ribs, somehow getting larger. Almost like a knot. Bruce choked on his spit, pussy pushed beyond its limits. Clark whined and pressed another kiss to the mark he had made on Bruce's tit, mumbling another 'sorry.'
"Your knot," Bruce whined, "Gimme your knot, alpha." He slapped Clark's flexing arm, "I want your knot." He arched his back, the tentacle pulsing and vibrating slowly inside Bruce.
Clark didn't say anything, too rut-drunk and tongue-tied to be of any use. So, Bruce growled and pushed up, sending Clark to his back. Bruce climbed up, stabilizing himself with Clark's chest, and slowly bounced on his cock.
It somehow got deeper, and Bruce was able to look down and see the frantic writhing of Clark's cock while it resisted leaving the heat of Bruce's body. Bruce whined and threw his head back, pressing a hand to his stomach to feel it move.
"Fuck, fuck, Clark!" he moaned loudly, pitchy. The ribs were flaring, opening up, acting almost like a knot.
My penis and knot are a bit different.
Clark leaned up again, attaching his mouth to Bruce's nipples and sucking again, like he was nursing. It made Bruce want nothing more than for his milk ducts to open, for his body to produce milk that the alpha could drink. Or a pup.
Their pup.
Bruce shouted as he came, watery cum splashing between their chests. He clenched down on Clark's cock, the flares fully opening and locking the two together so Bruce's insides could be filled with virile alpha cum. Clark moaned again on Bruce's tit, the sound rumbling in his chest and making overstimulating fireworks explode in Bruce's nerves. But he didn't push Clark away.
His eyes had fluttered shut, and the sharp sucks had turned into gentle nursing. Bruce sighed and stroked the back of his hair.
Let the man rest while he could. His rut would be back soon enough
When Bruce got back to Gotham, it had been about a little less than a week since he had left. There wasn't anything too bad while he was gone, but it seemed like as soon as he set foot back into the city, shit hit the fan.
Joker had bombed a dam, Two-Face was kidnapping people off the streets, and Scarecrow decided that now was the best time to provoke Ivy.
Bruce grumbled, but suited up. He had a city to protect. Unfortunately, that meant he didn't get a chance to relax until a month and a half later.
Bruce fell into bed and slept for about twelve hours, waking up twice to use the bathroom and scarf down leftover lobster thermidor. When he woke up for real, Bruce immediately jumped into a shower, letting the hot water cascade over him.
It was relaxing, until it wasn't.
He fell out of the shower, sopping wet and with soap dripping into his eyes. Bruce vomited. Violently.
His head was throbbing in time with the convulsions in his stomach, and Bruce could only groan in pain, in between heaving, that is. He thinks he might have passed out, but it seemed like one minute Bruce was alone, and the next Alfred was behind him.
"Master Bruce?" he asked, his gentle scent soothing in its familiarity. Earl Grey and ink, with hints of fresh laundry.
Bruce picked up his head, world spinning behind his eyes, "Alfred, please, call Leslie." He heaved into the bowl again as Alfred sped out. His world was reduced to the toilet and the intense cramps in his stomach.
Leslie came quickly enough, and it must have been about fifteen minutes after Alfred helped tuck Bruce into bed that she was bursting through the door. She shooed Alfred away and went through a full check-up, ending with a blood test.
"Listen," Leslie said, hands pressed to Bruce's abdomen, "I know it's unlikely, but how would you feel about a pregnancy test?"
He flushed, "Do you feel something?"
"Can't say for sure."
Bruce grumbled but nodded and accepted the test. It required a bit of slick, which was awkward, but Leslie was quick and efficient.
During the period the test needed to work, Alfred came back with some chamomile tea and a few pieces of buttered toast. He was gentle with Bruce, pressing a cold cloth to his forehead and fluffing his pillows.
When she saw the results, Leslie's face went pale, and she started stuttering. Alfred looked over her shoulder and gasped as well.
"What?" Bruce asked, getting anxious, "What is it? Is something wrong?
"Oh, Master Bruce," Alfred breathed, "My dear boy, you're pregnant."