Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Show Batman some respect, Lantern, it was a tough mission.” Bruce watched on with interest as Superman moved from his seat in the League meeting room, after several heated exchanges with Hal in his defence, and approached the Lantern in an uncharacteristically confrontational manner. Clark was acting strangely, he had been quick to jump to Bruce’s defence when Hal had criticised him, none too politely, after reporting back to the Watchtower for debrief.

“Stay out of this Superman,“ Hal said, striding past Clark to confront Bruce.

“I’m sick of your double standards, we have to follow your plans to the letter, yet you carry on as you please.” Bruce stood unaffected as Hal continued to rant at him. It wasn’t the first time and it wouldn’t be the last.

“Lantern, if you have a grievance with me, then you need to raise it formally,” Bruce replied wearily. Hal was an essential member of the League, and Bruce couldn’t deny he made a valuable contribution to the team, Bruce just wished he had a mute button and that he would stay out of his way.

“You might be happy to throw your life away on a whim.” Hal gestured angrily, taking a step closer to Bruce who remained stoic as ever as Hal ranted at him.

“Jordan,” Clark practically growled his name in warning, but Bruce didn’t bat an eyelid as Superman moved in front of him, arms folded, presenting himself as a physical barrier between him and Hal.

“This is just typical coming from you, Superman, always defending him even when you think he’s wrong yourself.” Hal jabbed his finger angrily at Clark, clearly not in the mood for backing down, and the usually diplomatic Superman only served to inflame the situation with his uncharacteristically heated defence of Bruce.

“I can deal with this, thank you, Superman,” Bruce interjected calmly, hoping to stop it from escalating even further, relieved when Superman moved out of his way, but noticeably stayed close to his side.

“Like I said, feel free to raise a complaint.” Bruce cut the Lantern short, as he turned on his heel and exited the meeting room. He had better things to get on with than listening to Hal’s ranting any longer, he’d heard it all before, and what was really concerning him was Clark’s behaviour.

Something was different about Clark, had been for several weeks now and Bruce was struggling to put his finger on what it was that had changed. He couldn't explain it, Clark hadn't said or done anything noticeably out of the ordinary until just now, the only evidence he had so far that something wasn't right. For the time being, he'd just have to keep monitoring Clark for any more changes in his behaviour.

****

"Bruce, you're being paranoid, I'm fine," Clark said, arms folded as he leaned back against the desk in the Batcave.

"Just let me run some tests, and if you get the all clear you get to tell me 'I told you so'," Bruce countered.

"Why can't you just trust me?" Clark sighed, adjusting his glasses, as he continued to try and reason with him. Citing changes in his behaviour and just a general sense that something was wrong, Bruce was now pushing to check Clark out more thoroughly, but Clark felt fine, as far as he was concerned it had been business as usual. He just needed to convince Bruce of that too.

"I do trust you, I'm just concerned." Bruce moved away from the med table in the cave, conceding defeat for the moment. "Something just seems off, Clark, I've been watching you and-"

"If something seems off, Bruce, it's because I'm fed up with you hounding me," Clark replied exasperated, as he casually rolled the sleeves of his plaid shirt up to his elbows.

"Look, I don't want to keep arguing with you," Clark said as he pushed himself up from the desk and walked over to join Bruce. "I'll make you a deal, if I feel sick, or that there's anything weird going on, I'll tell you straight away."

"The slightest thing, you tell me." Bruce agreed, though it was clear he was far from happy about it, but seemed to understand continuing to push Clark now was not going to be helpful in the long run.

"Good." Clark smiled up at Bruce. "So, I know I promised I'd help you with the Batwing, but…." Clark crowded Bruce against the workstation behind him. "I was thinking I might be able to help you with something else instead."

"Is that right?" Bruce smirked as Clark closed the distance between them. "I usually find you to be more of a hindrance than a help," he replied, allowing himself to be pushed against the metal table behind him.

"I'm more than happy to hinder you right now." Clark returned Bruce's smirk, he could feel Bruce's breath on his lips, the controlled heat behind the casual expression.

"Wouldn't be the first time."

"It won't be the last," Clark murmured, pressing himself flush against Bruce. "Batwing or Batcock? There's no contest," Clark rasped against Bruce's lips, before dropping to his knees.

****

Bruce stifled a sigh of irritation as Clark appeared in the corner of his eye for the umpteenth time that day, reading over his report for the Planet, as he leaned casually against the wall of the cave. Clark didn't even bother to look up at Bruce, thoroughly engaged in his proofreading, almost as if Bruce wasn't even there.

That wasn't the case though, over the past few days Bruce had noticed Clark following him around the Manor. It had started off subtly at first; and Bruce wouldn’t have given it much thought, if it hadn't been for the other recent changes in Clark's behaviour.

It started with Bruce spending time in other areas in and around the Manor, leaving Clark to his own devices, only for Clark to come and find him and then go back to whatever he was doing.

This had progressed from Bruce being able to spend hours away from Clark—allowing Bruce his much needed space—to Clark following him from room to room, often just hanging about like a bored teenager.

Then it escalated. Now if Bruce moved from one end of the cave to another, Clark was sure to follow, moments to minutes later, however long it took him to realise Bruce was no longer there. If Clark could see him, there was a better chance he'd keep his distance, but that wasn't guaranteed.

Bruce crossed the room to the furthest, darkest point of the cave and picked up a wrench he had no real intention of using, giving the appearance of being occupied by tinkering with some old engine parts, as he surveyed Clark.

Sure enough, two minutes later Clark appeared, still reading his report as he drifted across the room so he was opposite to Bruce for a few moments before making his way closer towards him. It was like Clark was drawn to him, and the fact Clark hadn't bothered to acknowledge him confirmed Bruce's suspicions that this was not a conscious decision to follow him around.

"You don't even know you're doing it, do you?" Bruce said finally, releasing the sigh of frustration that had welled up within him.

"Doing what?" Clark asked, sounding genuinely perplexed as he looked up from the report, looking around him and checking himself over, obviously trying to figure out what Bruce was talking about.

"Following me."

"I'm not following you, you haven't gone anywhere."

“You’ve been following me around the cave like a lost puppy all day, Clark.” Bruce casually twirled the wrench in his hand, cutting in as Clark opened his mouth to protest.

“Wherever I’m doing, whenever I move, it’s only a few minutes before you’re in my vicinity again.”

“Since when did you have a problem with that?” Clark shot back.

“When it’s all the time. When it’s abnormal behaviour.”

“Oh, not this again, Bruce.” Clark groaned, his hands falling to his sides, almost dropping his papers on the ground.

“Just then, when I was at the computer, you appeared, leaning against the wall reading your report.”

“Yes, and?” Clark now folded his arms, thoroughly unimpressed, slightly crumpling the report as he did so.

“And now,” Bruce said, as he regarded Clark’s demeanour. ”Now you’re standing there with an attitude-”

“Yep.”

Bruce narrowed his eyes at Clark’s curt response, placing the wrench back on the bench as he turned to face Clark properly. “I moved over here to see what would happen, and here you are. Again.”

“World's Greatest Detective, indeed,” Clark replied sarcastically, unfolding his arms as he stalked towards Bruce. “It's not because of some big conspiracy, but because I was gonna ask you if I worded this right.” Clark pointed indignantly at the text on the paper that he held up in front of Bruce’s face. “But don’t worry, I’ll ask Alfred instead.” Clark readjusted his glasses, taking a deep breath as he calmed. “This needs to stop, Bruce, or I’m going back to Metropolis.”

“Clark, wait.” Bruce panicked, reached out and took hold of Clark’s wrist as he turned away, but Clark effortlessly shrugged him off and walked towards the exit. Bruce couldn’t afford for Clark to leave, where he wouldn't be able to monitor him as closely. He couldn’t risk losing Clark, full stop, not after all they’d been through.

Clark paused and Bruce took the opportunity to catch up to him across the cave. “I’m sorry—”

“You keep saying that, but you keep doing it.” Clark’s eyes were clouded with hurt and frustration as he looked back at Bruce. “You know, it’s not nice having someone tell you there’s something wrong with you all the time,” Clark said plainly, but Bruce didn’t miss the twinge of hurt in his voice.

“You’re a private man, Bruce, and I know you need your space. So if this is too much for you, I understand. I’ll happily move back into my apartment full time again. I don’t want to risk losing our relationship.”

For a man who could comfortably keep his composure in the most trying of circumstances, Bruce felt this was the closest he’d come to tearing his hair out.

“I don’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable, but I need you to listen to me.” Bruce took hold of Clark’s hand, willing him to take him seriously even for a second.

“I want to test something.” Bruce’s grip tightened uselessly on Clark’s hand as he rolled his eyes. “Not like that— Just humour me ok?”

Clark closed his eyes with a sigh. “What?”

“I’m going to leave you here, and I’m going upstairs, I want to see how long it takes before you come and find me. I know you’re going to try your hardest to prove me wrong and that’s fine, because I need to know how you feel.”

“Ok, sure.” Bruce was taken aback at Clark’s apparent sudden willingness to cooperate. “But only because this is dumb as heck and somehow despite everything, the weirdest thing you’ve made me do.”

Clark’s exasperation caused Bruce to break out into a small smile, it warmed him that Clark was willing to put up with him despite everything.

“I don’t want you to go anywhere,” he said suddenly, his grip tightening further on Clark’s hand, pulling him closer.

“I get the picture, Bruce,” Clark huffed.

“I don’t mean that. I mean, I don’t want you to go back to Metropolis," Bruce clarified. "Stay here at the Manor.” The with me went unsaid, but Bruce was sure it was still understood as Clark visibly softened and smiled warmly back at Bruce, twisting his hand in Bruce's so their fingers now intertwined.

“I don’t think I could leave you now if I tried,” Clark said, leaning in to kiss Bruce, their kiss deepening as he walked Bruce backwards into the cool metal of the shelf behind him. "For better or for worse, definitely worse," Clark teased, breaking the kiss and allowing Bruce to breathe.

"You're trying to distract me," Bruce husked, kissing Clark again.

"Is it working?" Clark asked, nuzzling below Bruce's ear.

"Don't think you're getting out of this." Bruce grabbed Clark by the front of his shirt, tugging to him closer. Clark Kent would forever be his downfall, just a few seconds of making out and he was already hard and willing to forget about tests and behaviour to indulge him.

"We're just making up," Clark murmured against his neck.

"Is that right?" Bruce groaned as Clark pressed his knee between Bruce's thighs, which Bruce readily ground against, he could feel precum beading at the top of his cock already as Clark continued to kiss along his throat.

"Seems right to me, I—" Clark pulled back suddenly with a frown, and cocked his head a little to the left, not unlike the way a dog tilts its head in confusion.

"What is it?" Bruce asked when Clark straightened up, appearing somehow confused and concerned at the same time.

"Nothing. I thought I heard something, that's all."

"You're a bad liar, Clark Kent," Bruce said, clearly unconvinced. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, but uh, maybe we should get on and do that test you were talking about." Clark pulled away from Bruce, readjusting his glasses as he put some distance between them. Well if there was proof that something was wrong that was it right there, Clark finally opting to carry out one of Bruce's tests instead of getting laid? Bruce couldn't deny he was frustrated in more ways than one, but alright, if that's what Clark wanted, he wouldn’t turn down the opportunity to prove his theory.

"Alright, if that's what you want, stay here." Bruce straightened himself out as best he could.

"Thank you." He gave Clark's hand a gentle squeeze as he passed him and made his way out of the cave.

Bruce sat in the kitchen while Alfred chopped and prepared vegetables, nursing his coffee as he occupied himself on his phone, posting tweets, and liking pictures of gorgeous women on instagram in a bid to keep his mind off of Clark down in the cave. This hollow activity kept up the Brucie Wayne persona, but was also something he could drop easily if Clark needed him.

Alfred had asked what was going on, but he hadn’t given much away, only that he was concerned about Clark and he was investigating.

Bruce arched his brow in surprise when almost an hour later a rather dejected looking Clark entered the kitchen.

“I’m surprised it took you so long… Are you alright?” Clark didn’t look right, something was troubling him, Bruce was sure of it.

“Yeah, I just got really bored down there by myself.” Clark sat down next to Bruce and seemed to immediately relax a little.

“I tried to concentrate on my emails, but I was so bored I couldn’t focus.”

“Did you feel anything unusual?”

“No, not really. Well-”

“What?”

“I don’t want you to read too much into this.”

“Clark.”

Clark sighed loudly, stealing a sip of coffee from Bruce’s mug as he started to explain. “The only thing was—This is so stupid—I started to feel, I dunno, unsettled? I don’t know how to explain it.” Clark took a longer drink of Bruce’s coffee.

“It was like I missed you, which isn’t unusual, I miss you all the time when we’re not together, and I kept telling myself, this is stupid he’s just upstairs but I-” Clark sighed again, softer this time. “I dunno it was weird and now I don’t know if I’m just overthinking things because you mentioned earlier I’d followed you around and now I’m not sure.”

“It’s ok, Clark. Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m feeling a little tired, can I just sit here with you?” Clark shifted against Bruce’s side so he could lean against him and rest his head against Bruce's shoulder, his voice was muffled into Bruce's shoulder.

“Sure, I’m just updating the socials,” Bruce reassured, as he flicked absently through the pages on his phone. He slid his arm around Clark’s shoulder, hand stroking up and down Clark's arm soothingly, while he tried to process and piece together the information Clark had given him.

****

“You said something was wrong,” Bruce said as he entered the bedroom to find Clark rapidly pacing backwards and forwards across the room, obviously agitated. The moment Clark registered his presence, he advanced on him and Bruce instinctively stepped back out of his immediate reach.

“Bruce,” Clark said, there was obvious relief in his voice, even though the agitation remained. “I’m so horny, I didn’t know what to do but now you’re here—” Clark closed in on him again, but once again he avoided Clark, still trying to assess the situation.

“Is that it? You’re horny, could you have taken care of this yourself, instead of calling me out of a meeting?”

“I tried that, it didn’t work,” Clark said, visibly distraught when Bruce put his hand on Clark’s chest keeping him at bay. “I told you, something’s wrong, this is not normal-—” Clark released a shuddering breath as he fought to control himself. “I need to fuck.”

Suddenly Clark closed in on him and Bruce didn’t have strength or inclination to stop him. The rawness in Clark’s voice that needed to fuck, had Bruce immediately aroused despite himself.

"I can't keep away from you when I'm like this. When you smell like that…" Clark sniffed once and closed his eyes with a strained noise.

"You can smell my arousal?" A statement more than a question, his nostrils flaring with his own arousal at Clark’s confirmation. This should be weird, was a little weird, but heat surged through Bruce nonetheless as Clark pressed himself closer, walking him backwards to the bed.

"You can smell how hard I am for you, how much I want you?" A rhetorical question, but the strange noise Clark made confirmed what he wanted to know, and a new spark of heat ignited within Bruce's core.

"I can still smell the underlying scent from earlier, but this fresh arousal is so strong, it's almost overwhelming. I—" Clark's voice was ragged, his pupils blown with lust, and Bruce noticed the slight dampness of his forehead with interest despite himself.

"Clark, just hold on a second, I need to know what’s happening,” Bruce said, putting his hand on Clark’s shoulder to keep him at bay while he analysed the situation, his concern growing when he noticed his flushed face. “Are you sick?”

"No! I just—I want more…God, I can smell you, Bruce," he said, lust and desperation clear in his voice.

Clark groaned and dropped to his knees in front of Bruce, immediately pressing his face into Bruce’s crotch, and if it wasn’t for his overriding concern for Clark, he probably would have been lost right then and there.

It was getting to be too much, the change in Clark's behaviour had been subtle at first, Clark himself hadn't noticed any change in his demeanour, dismissing Bruce’s concerns as fussing and paranoia, but now there was no doubt for either of them that something had indeed affected Clark, and if it wasn't taking all of Bruce's willpower not to give in to the horny Kryptonian, he would have taken great pleasure telling Clark I told you so.

"Have you ever experienced anything like this before?"

He needed to continue monitoring him, but he couldn't when Clark was like this, maybe the best thing for now would be to let Clark have what he needed, give him some relief so they could both work on figuring out the cause for his abnormal behaviour.

It may seem blindingly obvious, but was Clark just unnaturally horny? Maybe it was a Kryptonian trait, if so, it was quite possible that Clark wasn't aware. Bruce had initially been concerned about taking advantage of Clark in his current state, but it appeared that Clark was fully aware of what he was feeling and what he wanted.

"No." Clark’s hands settled on his hips, pushing him down to sit on the bed in front of him. "I've never felt like this before." Clark’s hips seemed to jerk forward of their own accord.

“Clark, I’m going to—Fuck,” Bruce gasped raggedly as Clark pressed his face firmly into Bruce’s crotch again, mouthing at this cock through his slacks.

Bruce began unbuttoning his shirt, and shrugging off his waistcoat, there was a ripping sound and looked down to see his thousand dollar slacks torn at the crotch, hissing as Clark lapped at the damp patch on his boxers, making it wetter still.

"What do you need, Clark?" Bruce asked as evenly as he could manage, while Clark looked up at with a wild mix of lust and adoration.

"Just you," Clark said, suddenly pushing up from the floor to lock Bruce in a messy kiss, all lips and teeth. Bruce moaned into the kiss and pulled Clark closer to him, missing the wet heat of Clark's mouth worshipping his cock, while a still fully clothed Clark clambered up to meet him.

“Lie back.” Clark gestured backwards to the bed, pressing gently on Bruce’s chest encouraging him to comply. Bruce simply nodded his consent, barely getting the chance to finally remove his shirt and toss it across the room, as Clark clambered over him.

"Do you know how sexy you are?" Clark surged forward burying his face in the crook of Bruce's neck, pressing the full weight of his body against Bruce, “Your face, your body, your strength, your intelligence, all of it—” Clark groaned as he rocked his hips against Bruce’s thigh.

Bruce didn’t know, not really. It still felt foreign to him, to hear those things, not from some vacuous hanger on, but someone that truly cared for him wanted to be with him, loved him. To hear it from Clark. He’d pinch himself to check he was awake if he didn’t have the full weight of a horny Kryptonian pushing him into the bed.

“Can I?” Clark asked, carefully nibbling at Bruce’s ear lobe, his hot breath ghosting across his neck.

“Please,” Bruce gritted, his breath catching at his throat as a blast of cool air swept across the lower half of his body and he caught sight of fragments of his pants scattering across the room out the corner of his eye, the tell tale signs of super speed.

Bruce moaned deep in his throat, the frustration was unbearable, as strong, slick fingers probed impatiently as his entrance. He tried to thrust into the mattress as Clark prepped him, fingers twisting into the sheets as Clark finally pushed inside him.

"Bruce." Clark wasted no time as he began earnestly fucking Bruce, and fucking it was, Clark pounded into him relentlessly his mind set on one thing and one thing only.

Bruce groaned as Clark struck at his prostate repeatedly, leaving Bruce to shift his weight so as to wrap his hand around his own cock. Clark was far too gone rutting into his ass to think about anything else.

"I can't hold back, B."

Bruce could feel the fire coiling in his belly, one hand twisting further in the sheets, holding on for dear life as Clark ploughed into him while he jacked himself off. He'd be ordering a new bed at this rate.

"I love the way you smell." Clark grunted, biting down at the base of Bruce's neck as he drove his hips forward in one last thrust.

"Shit, Clark." Bruce tensed, feeling Clark's teeth clamp down at the back of his neck, the combination of pain and pleasure tipping him over the edge, his cum releasing in thick spurts.

Bruce groaned as Clark’s release pulsed into him, he could feel Clark trembling as he pulled out and laid down beside him. Gingerly, Bruce turned onto his side, moving up next to Clark, he was still deeply concerned about him. He held Clark close, continuing to soothe him, as he recovered.

"Clark, how are you feeling?" Bruce asked finally as Clark began to stir in his arms.

"Tired."

"I'm not surprised. Here, let's get you cleaned up." Bruce gently manoeuvred Clark off of him onto the bed and made his way to the bathroom, removing his own torn slacks as he did so. Returning moments later with a couple of towels.

"Hey, B?"

Bruce grunted in response as he cleaned Clark down with the warm damp towel, and then carefully dried him off with the other.

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"I think you were right and I didn't listen to you."

"Don't worry about that now, the main thing is you're alright. You had me concerned there for a moment." Bruce threw the towels on the floor and crawled up next to Clark, running his fingers delicately over his skin. Still hot, though cooler than before. Could this be some sort of virus?

"I'm sorry about that too," Clark said, gesturing to the shredded clothes strewn about the room.

"It's nothing. Budge over," Bruce said, sliding into bed next to Clark.

Clark pressed a kiss just below Bruce's ear, before moving to spoon him from behind. Bruce said nothing, but held Clark's arm tight to his chest as they drifted off to sleep.

Chapter Text

"Right, let's start from the beginning," Bruce said, placing a fresh coffee on the kitchen table in front of Clark, while he sat across from him with his own.

"You were fine until about a month ago.”

"Yeah."

"Can you think of anything around that time that happened that might have caused this? No matter how insignificant? Do you remember seeing or hearing anything unusual?"

"Nothing, I just did all the stuff I usually do.” Clark shrugged cluelessly. “Working at the Planet, rescuing people, capturing criminals. I don’t know what else to say.”

Bruce sighed as he leaned back into the chair. They’d gone over this before, but now that Clark had finally accepted Bruce wasn’t just being paranoid, he hoped Clark might reveal something that could cause this bizarre transformation.

“Were you exposed to any substances? Did you feel unwell at all?” Bruce was grasping at straws here, trying to jog Clark’s memory in any way could, even if he didn’t believe Clark would forget being unwell. Forget man-flu, Superman suffering from a cold was the end of the world, as he would tell you at every opportunity. Thankfully it was a rare occurrence, Bruce mused.

“No, and you would have noticed if I was unwell.”

“I did notice.”

“I’m not ill,” Clark replied, frustrated.

“Let’s not start this again,” Bruce said irritably, taking a sip from his coffee, equally frustrated. There didn’t seem to be a single lead, which was unusual in itself, Bruce was usually able to find something and every one of his hunches had hit a brick wall. Bruce did, however, think he had worked out what was happening to Clark, he just didn’t know why. “I agree you’re not ill, it was the change I noticed.”

“I wish I knew what was happening to me,” Clark lamented as he nursed his coffee.

“I have an idea,”

“Really? What is it?” Clark leaned forward expectantly.

"Very well." Bruce wasted no time in listing off the changes he had noticed in Clark over the last month. "Possessive behaviour, guarding food, being overly protective, separation anxiety and most recently, you've been uncharacteristically horny—"

"Hey, I don't recall you complaining about it at the time," Clark interjected, sounding mildly offended.

"I'm not saying it's all bad, Clark, just these are the behaviour changes I've noticed." Clark still appeared thoroughly unconvinced and to be completely honest, Bruce couldn't really blame him.

“Certain behaviours and traits you’ve acquired bear a striking similarity to a lot of canine species, specifically the domestic dog."

“Right. So what are you trying to suggest, that I’m turning into a dog or something?” Clark said in pure disbelief when Bruce refused to deny Clark’s suggestion, instead taking a long drag of coffee.

Clark regarded him with a flat expression that could give Bruce a run for his money. “I want to ask if you’re serious,” Clark said, sighing heavily and sinking back into his chair. ”But I already know that you are, because it’s you.”

"You said yourself that night you felt something was wrong."

"Yeah, but not that I was turning into a dog," Clark said, rolling his eyes. "I mean, how would that even happen?"

"You are susceptible to magic."

"Right, but who would want to turn me into a dog anyway?"

"I don't know," Bruce admitted, draining the rest of his coffee.

****

"Hey, what do you think, Smallville? Looking good, huh?" Lois said, turning the magazine around and pushing it into his hands, a knowing grin on her face as she waited for his response.

"Come on, Lo." Clark brushed off her teasing as he took in the pictures of the feature spread in front of him. The main shots were of Bruce straddling a motorbike, looking slightly roughed up in offensively expensive ripped black jeans, while his shirt hung open a little, hiding the majority of scars, quite a few of which had been airbrushed out Clark noted with little surprise.

"I knew he'd done the shoot, but I hadn't seen the pictures," Clark admitted quietly, careful of not being overheard. It had been an article focusing on his adventurous side and interest in adrenaline sports, damage control to explain some new scarring and recent injuries.

Clark usually didn't care for the 'Brucie Wayne' manufactured shots, but this wasn't like the usual promotional prints that went out. The next page had Bruce lying backwards over the back of the bike, one arm casually behind his head, the other hand placed suggestively between his legs. Oh God, he did not need to be looking at this right now, not when he had the rest of the day left to work.

"Can't deny he takes a good picture," Clark said casually, belying the stirrings of arousal he felt, folding up the magazine and handing it back to Lois.

"Nah, keep it. We had a whole batch delivered, it's a freebie." Lois put her hands up, declining to take the copy back.

"Sure, I'll check it out. Thanks, Lois." Clark smiled awkwardly, turning back to his computer, placing the magazine down on the desk next to him and resuming his work.

The sight of Bruce looking up at him out of the corner of his eye was doing nothing to help him concentrate on his work and several minutes later he flipped it over, Bruce's handsome face hidden against the desk, so he could fully invest himself in his report.

Or so he thought. Clark spent the next few hours typing away on his reports, trying to concentrate, but the image of Bruce kept popping up in his mind, distracting him in a way that wasn't normal. By lunch time, he wasn't able to concentrate at all, his skin prickled with heat.

Clark knew what he needed to do, this had been happening more often recently, he needed to— Clark scanned the bathroom, it was occupied and there were too many people here it wouldn't be safe. Clark released a short sigh of frustration, trying not to panic as that would only make things worse.

"Hey, Clark, you ok? You don't look great." Clark jumped a little. Jimmy seemed to have appeared from nowhere. Not a good sign.

"Not the best, to be honest," Clark admitted, trying to keep as calm as he could. "I'm thinking I might go on lunch, eating something might help. Do you know somewhere quiet I could go?"

"Sure, the advertising team on the next floor is on a team building day, so should be empty." Jimmy smiled warmly at him as he reached into his messenger bag. "But if you're feeling as bad as you look, go home."

"Yeah, right, Perry already thinks I'm a liability," Clark said, dejectedly, not wanting to duck out unless he really needed to. "Thanks, Jimmy. I'll head upstairs, I'm sure I'll feel better after some peace and quiet." Clark smiled as brightly as he could manage.

"No worries, here I just came to give you these." Jimmy slung the packet of photos onto Clark’s desk. "Some of these came out pretty good, but I'll leave you to it. Feel better!" Jimmy departed with a cheerful wave.

Clark took a moment to scan the floor above, Jimmy had been correct, it was empty. That was something. He stood quickly, grabbing the magazine and exited the office space, heading upstairs.

As soon as he reached the next floor, he rushed to the bathroom and into one of the cubicles, locking it behind him, before doing another cursory scan of the room as he fumbled with his phone.

Clark sat in the dark cubicle as he listened to the phone ring out the first time and reached Bruce's voicemail. Clark could feel his breathing increase as he tried not to panic, he needed Bruce now.

Flustered, Clark dialled again, no answer, and Clark felt the heat rise in his body again. Clark undid his slacks and leaned back a little and opened the magazine at the centre spread, but didn't dare to look at it straight away.

Third time lucky, Clark thought, took a deep breath and prayed to whatever god existed that Bruce would answer the phone. It continued to ring and Clark couldn't hold back the panic anymore, he'd never been through one of his new ruts without Bruce, and certainly never in a public place.

Clark groaned at the memory of these previous episodes with Bruce, his cock painfully hard in his underwear, taking deep breaths he resigned himself to his fate and looked down at the spread.

"What is it?" Bruce's voice cut through the silence, jolting Clark with surprise.

"Lois showed me the article you did for Vogue and—"

"I'm in a meeting," Bruce replied brusquely, the rough tone in his voice causing Clark to catch his breath, while his cock somehow hardened further.

"I'm sorry but, she showed me the pictures and—” Clark needed to take a breath, his breathing was becoming heavier. "I haven't been right since, B," he said, the anxiety clear in his voice.

"Clark—I—"

"Bruce, I need to fuck," Clark cut him off with a desperate moan.

"I told you, I'm in a meeting."

"Bruce."

"You insisted you wanted to go into work against my advice in case something like this happened."

"Yes, ok. You were right, I'll stay home from now on," Clark said desperately, anything to appease him. "Please."

"Sorry, Clark. I can't leave this one," Bruce replied, voice still firm, though softened with understanding. Clark thought back to a couple of weeks ago when he had blown off his meetings for the afternoon to find Clark overcome, almost completely incapacitated with need.

"Fine, I'll come to you," Clark said, standing up despite the extreme discomfort it caused him.

"No," Bruce answered sternly. No doubt concerned about the possibility of a horny Clark Kent, not even Superman, crashing through the window of the board room of Wayne Enterprises. He was probably right in his assumptions Clark thought heatedly, that's exactly what he would do if it meant he could be with Bruce right now.

"I need you, Bruce," Clark pleaded. "I'll be there in a few seconds-"

"I said no."

"You can't stop me!" Clark growled as he flung the cubicle door open, almost ripping it off his hinges and stepped out ready to fly to Bruce.

"Stay." Came the simple command down the phone, stopping Clark in his tracks.

"What—" Clark, lost the urge to move, still hard and horny but the drive to speed up to the roof and take off towards Gotham eased. He took a couple of steps forward.

"I told you to stay," Bruce's steady voice reaffirmed, calming Clark and leaving him simultaneously confused and reassured.

"You're going to stay there, go back into the cubicle and take care of yourself. Got it?"

"I need you, Bruce," Clark growled, defiant, torn between the urge to blast through the ceiling and fly to Gotham in pursuit of Bruce and the compulsion to obey him. After a few long seconds the compulsion to follow Bruce's instruction won out and he retreated back into the cubicle.

"Use the magazine. I want to see the evidence that you used it." Bruce's insinuation had Clark unfastening his pants at record speed, not bothering with his underwear as he desperately reached for his cock.

"Bruce," Clark made a primal sound as he began stroking his cock, his boxers already damp with precum against the movement of his hand. Clark didn't miss the slight hitch in Bruce’s voice, he could hear Bruce shifting down the phone, despite what Bruce would have him believe, it was affecting him too.

"Sort yourself out, try and take the edge off, I'll see you at home," Bruce's voice was laced with heat and promise as Clark fumbled with his free hand to flip over the magazine to find the centrefold of Bruce on that bike.

"No, wait, I haven't done this without you before—" Clark threw his head back and began thrusting desperately into his hand.

"I have to go back now, Clark."

"It's not enough, B. I need your voice."

There was a long pause, followed by a deep sigh. "I'm going back to the meeting now." There was another pause as Clark groaned in protest. "I'll leave the call open, so be quiet, or I'll have to mute you."

Clark choked back a moan, the thought that he could be heard by others while he was in this state was mortifying, but he didn't really have the presence of mind to care, if this was as close as he could get to Bruce right now.

"Ok," Clark agreed, trying to calm himself as best he could, with steady, shake breaths as he thrust into his hand, as he heard Bruce re-enter the meeting room.

Just the sound of Bruce apologising for the interruption somehow both settled him and drove him on further. Clark slumped back against the back of the toilet, zoning out as he mindlessly continued to thrust, he knew he wouldn't be able to stop now if he tried, he just wished he could be there with Bruce.

"Cough if you can hear me." It took longer than it should have to register through the fog of Clark's lust hazed mind and Clark coughed as soon as his brain caught up with the situation at hand.

"Donaldson I'd like to take a read through the papers before the presentation if you don't mind?" Bruce cleared his throat loudly, over the sound Clark made down into his ear piece, there was a pause, Clark could hear the rustling of papers, and then-

"I bet you're all wet and slick by now." Clark choked back a moan, mindful of Bruce's warning to be quiet, and heard Bruce make a comment about whatever he'd been reading, and asked for the presentation to begin.

Clark was losing the ability to think at all, the only thing on his mind was to fuck.

"I can picture you now, mindlessly fucking into your hand, but it's not enough is it?" Clark made a desperate noise, his whole body on fire, Bruce's deep voice, infuriatingly calm as he urged Clark on.

"Keep quiet." Clark was now vaguely aware of someone else talking in the background. "You're going to cum thinking about me inside you." More fluid leaked from Clark’s cock, he must have looked in an absolute state, his skin was flushed and damp from the heat of his body, his hand and cock were dripping with precum.

"Take those slick fingers and fuck yourself on them." Clark canted his hips to the side, lifted and pushed two fingers into his entrance. Clark tried so hard to stay quiet, but Bruce must have heard him. "Imagine it's me fucking you."

Clark's eyes rolled back in his head and he was gone, mindlessly and furiously fucking himself, incapable of thinking about anything or doing anything else, panting as he reached the peak. The only thing he was aware of was his desire to come.

"You're almost there." Clark could feel his climax building, all he needed was- "Good boy." Clark threw his head back, moaning Bruce's name, as he came, his cock jerking with several streaks of cum, coating the bottom of his shirt and the open pages of the magazine with his release.

Clark remained slumped across the seat for what felt like several minutes, as the haze began to clear a little and his thoughts returned to him. It must have been only seconds though, he realised as he focused on Bruce's voice coming through the phone.

"Forgive me, Mindy. Just one of my recent, ah, rendezvous, shall we say. I didn't realise I had left the video open. Please, continue." Clark could hear the manufactured sleaze in Bruce's voice, and the blasé chuckle that followed, which did nothing to help his recovery.

He needed to clean himself up, needed to get back to work, but he didn't feel completely back to normal like he usually did after completing these new 'ruts' he was experiencing. He still felt warmer than usual, hearing Bruce refer to him in such a casual way in the meeting, had him stirring with interest.

Clark grabbed a wad of toilet paper and began cleaning himself up. He tried to pull himself together as best he could. Straightening his clothes and making sure the stained bottom of his shirt was tucked away in his pants, making him look even dorkier than usual.

"You're on mute, so don't bother replying." Clark picked up his phone as he gingerly opened the door to the cubicle, very aware of the now weakened hinges and walked over to the basins along the side of the bathroom.

"I suggest you go home." Clark felt the urge pour over him again, at the heat in Bruce's voice. "I'll be there as soon as I can."

Clark sighed in defeat as the phone line cleared, splashing his face with cold water and wiping the steam from his glasses, trying to make himself as presentable as he could before returning downstairs.

He didn't look great, and he hoped he looked sick enough for Perry to let him go home without too much of an interrogation. Clark was just about to leave when he remembered the magazine. He scanned the cubicle to see it was lying open cast aside on the floor. Quickly he grabbed it, and closed it, the heat returning to his cheeks at the memory. He would have to take it with him, even if Bruce hadn’t been serious about seeing the evidence, his life wouldn’t be worth living if Bruce found out he’d carelessly left his unique bodily fluids in public.

With a deep breath, Clark made his way back to the floor below, going over the different ways he could approach Perry about going home earlier, while not enduring the full force of his wrath. He just hoped he looked ill enough to convince him.

“Kent!” Perry’s booming voice startled him out of his thoughts.

“Yes, Chief?” Clark turned to face his boss, he guessed he’d have to take the opportunity while he had it.

“Where the hell have you been? I told you to look into the Star City incident and get back to me as soon as possible.”

“Sorry, Sir, I—”

“Jesus Christ, Kent. What the hell happened to you? I’ve seen healthier bodies in a morgue.”

“I’m not feeling too great, I think I’m coming down with a fever.” Perry let out a string of curses. “So I was going to ask if I could finish the investigation from home, I don’t want to pass this onto Lois, Jimmy and the others. I’ll keep you posted every step of the way.” Perry cursed again, before admitting defeat.

“Alright, but make sure you get some rest too, I want you back here asap,” Perry barked, almost as if he was concerned he was being too soft.

“Thanks, Chief.” Clark smiled weakly, and headed back to his desk to collect his things.

“And, don’t call me chief!” Perry bellowed from behind him.

****

Bruce sat in the boardroom trying his best to look as engaged in Mindy's presentation as possible. Her nasal voice and talk of projections and forecasting, background noise while his mind focused on Clark experiencing yet another one of these episodes, not to mention the raging hard on he was trying to suppress.

Bruce couldn't hear Clark of course, after muting the call, but he'd heard enough, the mental imagery and his imagination filled in for everything he couldn't see. Bruce stifled a grunt as the thoughts sent sparks shooting downwards as he sent a message to Alfred informing him to have the car ready and waiting outside.

Not so quiet, he realised as Lucius loudly cleared his throat and Mindy looked thoroughly unimpressed at the interruption.

"Apologies, Millie—"

"Mindy," she corrected immediately, unable to hide the irritation in her voice.

"Mindy," Bruce acknowledged. "I just had my mind focused on other things…" Bruce said, voice thick with suggestion, visibly putting Mindy off her stride for a moment.

"Haven't we already spoken about the business forecasts today?" Bruce said with affected boredom, sliding comfortably into his shallow Brucie persona.

"That was for Wayne Industries, this is for Wayne Pharmaceuticals."

"Right. It's hard for me to concentrate on such a sophisticated presentation." Bruce openly gave Mindy the once over, while her lip curled in disgust.

"If you're ready for me to continue, Mr. Wayne?" Bruce nodded, and made a mental note to keep her on board, he needed more people like her.

Business aside, his thoughts immediately returned to Clark, he needed to be with him, and wanted to be with him as soon as possible.

Even as a self proclaimed master of self control, the meeting seemed to drone on forever. Thoughts of Clark jacking himself off over him while at work, simultaneously distracted him and made the time stretch even longer.

Bruce often found these board meetings dull and long winded, dodging as many as he could, he needed to check on Clark. Had he made it home safely? What was the source of this sudden change in his behaviour, there didn't seem to be any rhyme or reason to it.

Bruce had been alarmed when Clark had insisted on flying here to alleviate the symptoms. It was dangerous, Clark threatening to risk himself and his identity in his pursuit. This also meant it was getting worse, the impulse stronger. Animals in rut displayed similar behaviour, dogs if they got loose were known to roam for miles looking for a suitable mate.

Would Clark look for someone else in his absence? Would the need be so great, that Clark would seek someone else to find relief if this behaviour continued long term?

Urgency gripped him, and he was relieved to hear Mindy finally summarising the meeting, trying not to let his impatience show as it wound to an end. Finally, taking his opportunity, he stood.

"If you'll excuse me, it has been both fascinating and enlightening, but my input is needed elsewhere." Bruce smirked, loosening his tie a little as he spoke. "Lucius will take care of you from here, I have arranged refreshments."

Bruce moved towards the exit, only stopping to address Mindy, taking her hand and shaking it politely. "It's been a real pleasure, Mindy." Bruce gave her a charming smile to which she rolled her eyes and politely removed her hand from his. Definitely a keeper, he thought to himself as he exited the boardroom.

****

Bruce's expression was stern as he entered the Manor, his focus on one thing and one thing only.

"Welcome home, Master—" Alfred greeted him, but Bruce cut him off impatiently.

"Is he here?"

"Upstairs—"

"I'll be indisposed for the next hour or so."

"Very good, Sir."

Bruce strode up the stairs to the master bedroom, completely loosening his tie, letting it fall around his neck as he began to undo the top buttons of his shirt.

He'd tried to call Clark on the way home, but there had been no answer. The door to the master bedroom had been left ajar and the sight that greeted him as he entered took him aback.

Clothes were strewn about the room, Clark was on his back, face turned and pushed into Bruce's pillow, fingers twisted into the sheets as he thrust his cock steadily into his hand. As Bruce approached he noticed the magazine spread open, on the other side of the bed.

"You've been waiting for me," he husked, approaching the bed and trailing his fingers over Clark’s strong, muscular chest, down his abs and finally the underside of his cock to the tip. While Clark moaned below him, pushing his hips upwards desperately seeking contact.

“I didn’t say you could touch,” Bruce said, shrugging off his shirt and tossing it away, not caring where it landed.

“You didn’t say I couldn’t,” Clark replied defiantly, somehow still finding the ability to counter Bruce, despite the state he was in.

"It wasn't enough this time?" Bruce brushed the strands of hair from Clark’s face, when Clark suddenly grasped his wrist, holding it still, savouring Bruce’s touch.

"I felt better, but the need didn't go away after, like it has before." Clark began to massage his wrist gently with his thumb, but did not release him. "I came home like you said. I didn't feel right, so I thought I'd come and lay down." Clark chuckled mirthlessly. "That was a bad idea, because all I could smell was you and all I could think of again was you. Your scent all over me, my scent on you." Clark squeezed a little too tightly as he ended, and Bruce thought he may lose it then and there, his finally subdued erection returning at full force.

"Ever since you called I've been thinking about this, I see you followed my instructions," Bruce said, gesturing at the magazine that lay open next to Clark on the bed.

"I thought I could manage, thought I could wait—"

"It's ok, I'm here now," Bruce said, swiftly removing the rest of his clothes, leaving them in a heap on the floor alongside Clark's and joining him on the bed. He cupped Clark's jaw with one hand, forcing him to look at Bruce as he knelt between Clark’s thighs, the other grabbed the lube from the nightstand and dropped it on the bed next to him.

Clark's hand shot up, pulling Bruce down on top of him with a strangled noise as he thrust awkwardly into Bruce's hip, desperately crushing his lips against Bruce’s.

"Easy," Bruce warned, the noise Clark made went straight to his cock, and it took him a full second to get himself back on track.

"I'll give you what you need," Bruce said, voice low and commanding as he took in the sight in front of him, Clark's attention now fully on him, his face dark with lust and need.

"Wait," Bruce demanded as he reached for the lube, while Clark moaned desperately below him, grasping at Bruce as he pulled away.

"I said stay." Bruce smacked Clark’s hands away, as he flipped open the lubricant and roughly spread Clark’s legs further apart.

"But, Bruce, I—" Clark threw his head back with a loud moan, a unique sound of satisfaction mingled with pleasure, Bruce acknowledged, grunting with his own need as he pushed two slick fingers into Clark's tight entrance.

"You need to work from home from now on," Bruce said, as he stretched Clark open. "You can't take this risk again." Bruce's voice was ragged with his own need as he slicked the lubricant over his cock and pressed the tip against Clark's waiting hole.

"Do you know how hard it was to focus in that meeting, knowing what you were doing?" Bruce groaned low and deep as he pushed inside, while Clark's fingers dug into his sides as he took up a brutal pace.

"Do you know how hard it was, being on my own, not having you with me?" Clark snapped back at him, eyes flashing with anger and frustration.

"I'm sorry I couldn't be there with you," Bruce said sincerely, as he pounded into Clark relentlessly, nipping and licking at his throat. Bruce was close, the pit of fire boiling low in his belly, Clark clung to him, the air peppered with sounds of pleasure falling from his lips.

"I could picture you—" Bruce cursed, snapping his hips once, twice, driving himself deep within Clark as he came, the mental images of Clark cumming to the sound of his voice all he needed to push him over the edge.

"That's not exactly what I meant to happen."

Bruce could have sworn he saw a flash of red in the brilliant blue of Clark’s eyes, while Clark tugged furiously at his cock as he came in long thick spurts across his abdomen and chest. Bruce grunted loudly, falling forward to brace himself on one hand, leaning over Clark as he clenched around his spent cock, milking the last few drops from him.

Bruce licked his lips as he looked down at Clark, the memory of the heat vision flickering in Clark's eyes as he came firmly imprinted in his mind, leaving him unable to pull out for a moment.

Suddenly Clark rose up to meet him, pushed his tongue into his mouth with a messy kiss, rolling him over and pinning him to the bed as he hovered over him.

Bruce was trapped between the strong muscle of Clark's thighs, so he slid his hands up the strong legs, admiring every inch of Clark.

"That was definitely worth the wait," Bruce said, finally getting his breath back.

"Seeing you lose it like that," Clark said, voice quivering, looking down at Bruce, eyes still dark with lust.

"If that's what it takes to trigger your heat vision again." Bruce gave Clark a lazy smile, kissing him again before Clark finally flopped down next to him.

Bruce contemplated how lucky he was to have Clark for the few minutes they lay there basking in the afterglow, how gorgeous he looked with the damp strands of hair plastered against his face, the flush of his cheeks. Clark was, by most people’s definition, an incredibly handsome man, but getting to see him like this, the real Clark, never got old. Bruce allowed himself to enjoy these rare few moments, before the worry flooded back, the concerns about Clark and what was happening to him, what if it couldn’t be stopped? What if— He was spiralling now, he needed to stop.

“Let’s clean up,” he said simply, suddenly unable to look Clark in the face, he got up and entered the ensuite.

“Thank you,” Bruce said, breaking the silence as the hot water of the shower cascaded over them while Clark sponged between his thighs, cleaning him thoroughly.

"How are you feeling now?" Bruce asked, turning around and taking the sponge from Clark, indicating for him to do the same.

"Fine. Well, maybe a little tired, but it's been a long day." Bruce swept the sponge over Clark’s back, unconvinced by Clark’s reply.

"You don’t have long days, Clark," Bruce said, moving the sponge over Clark’s shoulder, giving it a light squeeze attempting to reassure him. "Don't hide from me, I know I have a tendency to overstep, but—"

"It's not that." Clark sighed, turning back to face him again. "Earlier today, I had this urge to hunt you down, Bruce. I didn't care that I might expose my identity, that I might endanger you or anyone else. This compulsion— sometimes it feels like I'm going insane." Clark looked down with a pained expression.

"Clark, whatever it is, I can handle it." Bruce tilted Clark's face up to meet him, Clark allowed himself to be manoeuvred, but did not meet Bruce's eyes.

"I keep thinking what if I put you at risk, what if I lose control and I can't stop myself, what if I hurt you-or worse."

"I'd be lying if I said these things hadn't occurred to me too. You know me, I always plan for the worst case scenario, but I'm glad you're having the same thoughts. If it means we're both on the same page on this, and aware of all the possibilities, whatever they may be."

Hollow words or false reassurances wouldn’t help here, neither being Bruce's forte, so he simply drew Clark into his arms, holding him close.

"We’d better get out or we'll turn into prunes, as Ma used to say," Clark said after a few minutes, but made no effort to remove himself from Bruce's embrace.

"Come on, farm boy." Bruce released Clark with a cheeky slap on his ass and stepped out of the shower, grabbing a towel and drying himself off. "I have a couple of meetings in the morning, but we could go out for lunch after if you'd like?" Bruce turned back to see Clark dripping wet as he exited the shower. "Here." Bruce threw the towel at Clark for him to catch, only to find himself subjected to another shower as Clark shook rapidly all over, ridding himself of the excess water.

"Really?" Bruce said, exasperated as he stood dripping wet again, the whole bathroom was now covered in water. "And you're telling me you're not turning into a dog?" Clark just shot him a goofy grin, damp hair plastered to his face and falling to his eyes, he was a wet dog in human form.

"Don't you dare, you already made me wet again," Bruce said, glaring at Clark as he advanced on him, arms outstretched, a mischievous look in his eye.

"It doesn’t matter then, does it?" Bruce began reeling off a list of threats, but Clark's goofy grin widened as he pounced on Bruce, shaking the remainder of the water all over him.

****

Later that evening as they lay in bed, Bruce was reading through intelligence he had received of a weapons shipment due to arrive at the harbour, while Clark shifted restlessly next to him.

“Stop fidgeting, it’s annoying.” Bruce didn’t bother to look up from his tablet, while Clark sighed deeply next to him.

“Sorry, I’m just waiting for you to finish. I want to ask you something.” Clark cuddled up next to him and knowing exactly what he wanted, Bruce lifted his arm so that Clark could rest his head on Bruce’s chest.

“What is it?”

“If, and I mean if, I am turning into a dog- I still think this is nonsense, by the way,” Clark said. What Bruce had said had clearly been playing on Clark’s mind despite his protests. “Do you think I’ll completely turn into a dog, or maybe just sometimes like on a full moon—”

“I said you’re turning into a dog, not a werewolf,” Bruce said absently as he continued to read.

“If turned into a dog, I wonder if I’d still have all my powers.”

“You still have your powers now, so it’s likely.” Bruce stroked distractedly down Clark’s back as Clark gently squeezed his arm around Bruce’s chest.

“Guess I’d be Superdog then, huh?” Bruce sighed as he tried to concentrate on the intel in front of him, but Clark was making it difficult with his inane questions. “We could team up all the time then, Batman and his trusty companion Superdog.”

“No.” Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose at the painful image that Clark’s suggestion concocted in his mind, causing Clark to laugh in return, but Bruce could sense that whatever was bothering him was still there.

“Bruce,” Clark said, now more subdued. Bruce waited for him to continue. “If I did really turn into a dog, would you get rid of me? I know you don’t like dogs—” They were getting to the crux of it now, the core of Clark’s anxiety.

“Of course not,” Bruce replied, squeezing Clark’s shoulder to reassure him.

“But if I turn into a dog, things won’t be the same between us.” Bruce drew in a breath, immediately understanding Clark’s meaning. He swiped the screen closed on the tablet and placed it on the bedside table next to him.

“No, they wouldn’t,” Bruce replied honestly, now giving Clark his full attention. “But you know I would spend every second of every day working to find a way to get you back to normal,” Bruce said sincerely, tilting Clark’s chin up to look at him, capturing his lips in a tender kiss. He felt Clark harden against him, but ignored it for now. “I wouldn’t stop.”

“That’s what worries me.” Clark chuckled his reply but Bruce knew he meant it.

“You don’t need to worry, because I’m going to figure this out.”

“You’re going to figure this out?” Clark arched an unimpressed brow. “So much for teamwork.”

“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you, Batman works alone, I tolerate your assistance at best.”

“Do you ever get tired of being so stubborn?” Clark asked.

“No,” Bruce said simply, but the stern set of his mouth cracked into a half smile as Clark laughed affectionately, climbing over him under the sheets stopping to straddle him midway.

“It’s a good thing I love you,” Clark said, pausing to kiss Bruce on his way over before they settled down for the night, Clark spooning Bruce from behind. Bruce relaxed into Clark’s embrace, allowing himself to enjoy the moment as he drifted off into some much needed sleep.

“Hey, B?” Clark asked brightly, disturbing Bruce’s lull.

“What?”

“What kind of dog do you think I’d be?”

“Golden retriever,” Bruce said into his pillow without a second thought.

“Really, because I was thinking more like an Akita or a German Shepard.”

“You can’t be serious?” Bruce scoffed.

“Why not?” Clark sounded offended, but Bruce couldn’t think for the life of him why, it was pretty obvious to anyone that knew him.

“I’m not having this conversation, I’m going to sleep.” Bruce deflected, burying his face deep in the pillow, hoping Clark would take the hint.

“I think you’d be a Doberman, in case you were wondering.”

“I wasn’t.” Silence followed, and Bruce had just started to drift off again, when Clark’s voice broke through the silence again.

“B, do you think I’d still be able to talk if I did turn into a dog?” Bruce groaned in exasperation.

“I bloody hope not,” Bruce grumbled, burrowing himself deeper into the covers, while Clark chuckled softly behind him.

In the early hours of the morning, Bruce stirred from his sleep, and cracked his eyes open for a few short seconds. The darkness of the room told him it was still the early hours of the morning and he shifted comfortably against the warmth behind him.

As he backed up closer to Clark, he felt the large bulge pressing into his ass. Smirking to himself he ground his ass into the bulge, anticipating Clark's response. Nothing. Clark didn't react at all, leaving Bruce to assume that Clark must really be asleep and pushed back against him again to make sure. Still nothing.

Frustrated, Bruce exhaled deeply, he was aroused now, and had been so sure that Clark would be awake or at least dozing. Bruce reached behind, fully intent on waking him this time, and took hold of Clark's cock.

"Clark!" Bruce sat up immediately, and pulled at Clark’s shoulder only to receive a soft growl in response. "Clark, get up!"

"What is it?" Clark answered, the sleep heavy in his voice.

"This." Bruce squeezed the appendage in his hand.

"Hey!" Clark complained, before looking over his shoulder at Bruce, confusion clear on his face even in the dim light. "Wait, what was that? I can feel it but it doesn't feel right."

"That," Bruce replied, as he squeezed again, "Is your tail."

"What do you mean, my tail?" Clark tried to sit up, but struggled to do so without trapping his tail in the process.

"Hold on a second," Bruce said as his eyes adjusted properly in the darkness, focused on Clark, and were those ears? "Clark I think you need to look in the mirror, the tail is not your only new addition."

"What do you me—" Clark began to ask and then was gone in a rush of air. Bruce followed, leaping out of bed and rushing to the bathroom when Clark yelled out in shock.

Bruce walked in to find him frantically tugging and pulling on his ears and tail, wincing while he did so, visibly horrified.

"What am I going to do?" There was a noticeable dog-like whine underlying in his voice as he looked at Bruce terrified.

"It's okay." It wasn't okay at all, Bruce was still trying to process the dramatic physical change himself. He'd been right, as usual, but seeing Clark in such distress, he truly wished he hadn't been.

"How is this okay?"

Bruce was at a loss for words, comfort and reassurance were not his strong points at the best of times.

"Clark, stop that," Bruce said sharply, as Clark continued to tug and pull painfully at his new appendages, it was so distressing to see him like this. "Clark, stop." Bruce reached out and took hold of his hands putting an end to the torment.

"Come here." Bruce turned Clark from the mirror to face him, finally able to take in the full transformation for the first time. Two large, brown fluffy ears stood on either side of his head, while his large fluffy tail hung behind him.

"Bruce, I don't want to turn into a dog! I don't want things to change between us. What if I can’t be with you anymore?" Clark said, frantic and panicked, referring to their earlier conversation.

Bruce pulled Clark into him, holding him close and rubbing soothing circles on the small of his back, until he felt Clark soften a little in his arms. Bruce didn't want this either, the pang of fear that twisted in his gut and the thought of losing Clark now, was overpowering.

“What I said earlier still stands, I’m not going anywhere, and I will figure out what is causing this.” Bruce’s mindset to work, this was bizarre to say the least, and now with this latest development, with no sign of any exposure to Kryptonite Bruce could only deduce that Clark had been targeted. But by who, or what? Why transform him into a dog? None of it made any sense, and he still had no clues to go on.

“Neither of us really anticipated this,” Bruce said, patting Clark on the back as Clark buried his face in Bruce’s shoulder.

“How do you feel? Do you feel sick? Are you in any pain?”

“No, I feel fine, no different from normal.” That was something, Bruce supposed.

“I just look ridiculous, how am I supposed to go out looking like this?” Clark said miserably.

“Well, you’re not, are you?” Maybe that was the point, to keep Superman at home, but that didn’t feel right either. This had been too long winded and convoluted for the sake of stopping Superman saving the day. “And you don’t look ridiculous.” Clark drew back from Bruce looking absolutely miserable.

“You’re just saying that,” Clark said sadly, pulling away completely and moving back into the bedroom.

“When have you ever known me to ‘just say things’?” Bruce followed Clark back into the bedroom, but Clark still looked crestfallen. “If you want to know my honest opinion?” Bruce asked, as he walked up to Clark, who nodded dejectedly in response. “I think they look good on you.”

“Don’t try and placate me, Bruce. What if I have these for the rest of my life?”

“Then you’ll have to live with it,” Bruce said plainly, cupping Clark’s jaw and gently stroked his cheek with his thumb. “But it won’t change how I feel about you, and if this is as far as the transformation goes, there’ll be no issues physically either.”

The sadness in Clark’s eyes lifted and his ears noticeably perked in reaction to Bruce’s words.

“As much as it pains me to say it, I actually think you look rather…" Bruce inhaled sharply before forcing the word out, “Cute.” Bruce tentatively touched Clark’s ears, giving them a gentle pat, before withdrawing his hand again.

“That was weird,” Clark said, more than a little confused. "But it felt good at the same time.” Bruce watched with quiet fascination at Clark’s new tail gently wagging in anticipation. It was a strange sight to behold at first, but bizarrely enough, it actually suited Clark.

“It’s been a lot, let's go back to bed,” Bruce said, climbing back into bed and gesturing for Clark to join him. “Try and get some sleep.”

“What if I wake up and I’ve changed completely into a dog?” Clark asked as he slipped back into bed next to Bruce.

“I don’t think that’s likely, this has been building for sometime, I think this is it for now.”

“Yeah, but—” Clark shifted as lay on his back, trying to get comfortable with his new tail underneath him, anxiously staring at the ceiling.

“If that does happen, then we’ll deal with it, but like I said, this has been a slow progression. I think you’ll be fine.”

“I guess tomorrow's lunch is off then,” Clark said sadly, while Bruce made a mental note to arrange a special lunch for them both at the Manor tomorrow, to make it up to him as he slid closer to Clark across the bed.

“Turn over.” Bruce Pressed up behind Clark wrapping his arms around him, mindful of not crushing Clark’s new tail, holding him tight as he fell back to sleep.

Chapter Text

Clark had been waiting what felt like forever for Bruce to come home. He couldn't stand it when Bruce went away from the Manor, ever since this weird affliction had taken over him, he had become more and more dog-like. It was normal to miss Bruce when he was away on business or undercover, but from the second Bruce left, Clark was, well, pining in a way he would never have done before. Every second felt like an hour and he couldn't wait for him to come home.

It helped that Alfred was here with him, when he was left on his own these days it left him feeling unbearably lonely, but he'd helped Alfred with all the chores he could. NNow he was upstairs in the master bedroom, lying on top of the bed just waiting and waiting, when finally he heard the crunch of gravel outside and the click of the front door opening. Excitement overwhelmed him as he sped down the stairs in a blur, pinning Bruce against the door behind him with a hug.

"Bruce, Bruce, you're home! I've been waiting all day, I thought you'd never come home!"

"Clark!" Bruce tried to push Clark away, he was smothering Bruce in his excitement and Bruce's patience was short as it was after a day of long board meetings and brown nosers.

"Bruce, I missed you so much!" Clark was pawing at his arm and burying his face in Bruce's neck, his tail wagging furiously with excitement.

"Clark, calm down!" Bruce said, pulling away as best he could, trapped firmly against the door behind him.

"Bru-"

"Down, Clark!" Bruce snapped, shoving him roughly away.

Immediately feeling a pang of guilt, Clark obediently retreated a few paces, and looked up at him with his best wounded-puppy-dog eyes. "Sorry, I was just really happy to see you."

"It's alright. I know you can't help it- just let me get in the door."

"How was your day?" Clark asked carefully, not sure if it was alright to approach Bruce again.

"Long," Bruce replied as he walked to the kitchen, Clark following obediently behind him. When Bruce sat down at the table, Clark disappeared and reappeared in blur.

"Here, B, I brought you the Gazette!" Clark watched expectantly as he handed Bruce the paper, hoping that Bruce would be pleased with his gift.

"Thanks, Clark, but I read it at the office." Bruce must have seen the dismay on his face because he patted the chair next to him indicating for Clark to sit with him. "I appreciate the thought." Bruce patted Clark on the back, and boy if that didn't feel great, he thought, feeling a rush of warmth through his body at the contact.

"How did you manage today?" Bruce poured himself a coffee from the pot that Alfred had made ready for him.

"I hate to admit it, but it was hard," Clark said, pushing his back into Bruce's hand which still rested on his back but was no longer petting him, hinting at him to continue. "The day just goes so slowly without you," he sighed, relaxing as Bruce absently resumed his patting as he checked the emails on his phone.

"Obviously I know how long you've been gone and when you'll be back, but I feel so restless. It helps if I can sleep through some of the day, and Alfred being here helps a little, but it's not the same." Clark leaned into Bruce, trying not to crowd him too much.

"I was so excited when you came home."

"That was definitely the most intense greeting so far," Bruce agreed. "If you could try to tone it down a little in the future."

“I feel so bad, Bruce.” Clark leaned closer to Bruce, placing one hand over his, holding it tight, ears flat against his head while his tail wagged frantically behind him, desperate to appease him. “Can I kiss you?”

“Are you kidding?”

"Sorry." Clark bowed his head a little. "I just want to show you how much I love you just in case…"

"Just in case?" Bruce placed his phone down and turned his attention fully back to Clark.

"Just in case you don't come back for me next time," Clark finished quietly.

"Clark you idiot, I live here, of course I'll be back."

"I know, but it's how it makes me feel. The relief when you come home…"

"Come here." Bruce turned and placed two fingers under Clark's chin, tilting his face up to look at him, kissing him. Clark returned the kiss eagerly, this had been what he'd wanted ever since Bruce had arrived home. Breaking the kiss momentarily, he moved to straddle Bruce on the chair, continuing to lose himself in Bruce until he broke away for air with a firm pat on the ass.

"Get off, you're way too big to be a lap dog."

"Bruce," Clark complained, before dipping forward and attempting to kiss him again, but Bruce's hand on his chest stopped him just inches away.

"I have work to do."

"Alright," Clark huffed, moving to get up from Bruce's lap, only to change his mind at the last second, pushing his luck with a solid roll of his hips.

Bruce smirked up at him, evidently amused by his obvious attempts to distract him.

"I said get down." Clark tilted his head to the side as he smiled down at Bruce, rolling his hips again, grunting with pleasure when he suddenly felt Bruce’s hands on his ass, squeezing firmly.

“Not a very obedient dog are you?” Bruce said, holding Clark firmly within his grip, doing his best to stop Clark from grinding his hips into him a third time. “I think we’re going to need to do something about that.” The suggestive tone in Bruce’s voice, went straight to Clark’s cock, even if he wasn’t seemingly perpetually horny these days anyway.

“Batman would never own such a disobedient dog.” Bruce briefly removed his hand to clasp Clark’s jaw, stopping him from attempting to kiss, lick or smell him again, he didn’t know.

“No,” Clark whispered in agreement, trying to still himself when every fibre of his being urged him to rut against Bruce.

“All good dogs need some training,” Bruce said evenly, laced with meaning and Clark’s hips snapped forward of their own accord as he moaned at the implication, Bruce’s fingers digging deep into his cheeks, unable to stop him.

“Stay.” Bruce removed both his hands completely, no longer touching Clark, remaining completely still. The frustration of being compelled to follow Bruce’s order against the urge to move and satisfy himself was unbearable, but he wanted to be good for Bruce.

“Good boy.” Clark felt a rush of warmth at the praise, overriding his frustration as he remained as still as possible. Bruce regarded him curiously, analysing him, Clark knew that look well.

“What else do all good dogs need?” Despite Bruce’s confident demeanour, Clark sensed a hint of uncertainty in his tone, Bruce hated to be wrong, but he must be fairly confident in whatever he was about to suggest to voice it out loud.

Bruce’s finger deftly undid the buttons of Clark’s soft flannel shirt, exposing his throat, while Clark's cock throbbed in his pants as he fought to stay still, inhaling sharply as Bruce’s fingers ghosted at the base of his neck. Clark knew the answer now, though he felt incapable of saying it. Clark’s mind was overloaded with a whirl of images and thoughts. It was something that had never entered his mind before now, but suddenly it seemed to make so much sense. Maybe it would help him to control this side of him, Bruce would have no doubt factored that in as well, but it was obvious there was personal interest in this too.

“A collar.” Clark released a long shuddering breath, shifting in Bruce’s lap.

“Uh-uh, stay,” Bruce ordered, causing Clark to groan in frustration.

“You can’t say all this stuff and not expect me not to react, I know you’re turned on too, it’s bombarding all my senses.”

Bruce shrugged causally in response, in his typically insufferable manner, which only served to frustrate Clark further. “I told you I have work to do, get down.”

“Bruce.” This was so unfair, why was Bruce tormenting them both like this? They could quickly get off and then--

“You have one of the three options,” Bruce said calmly, interrupting his spiralling thoughts. “One, you get down like I asked, let me get on with my work and then you’ll get your reward.” Clark perked at that, but he really didn’t want to wait, didn’t really feel like he could wait, knowing Bruce it might be hours.

“Two, we stay here, stalemate, which will be incredibly embarrassing when Alfred returns to prepare dinner in the not too distant future.” Clark felt his cheeks blazing at the thought of Alfred finding them like this and knowing full well that Bruce was stubborn enough to remain here to prove his point.

“Three, you continue to ignore me and give in to what you need right now, which is fine. Just know I’ll be incredibly disappointed.” Clark opened his mouth to protest, he wanted to curse Bruce really, it was so annoying how he always knew what to say to strike the right chord. Previously Clark would be darned if he was going to follow Bruce’s orders like this, but in his current state he couldn’t bear the thought of being in Bruce's bad books.

“Did you mean what you said about the collar?” Clark asked quietly, suddenly feeling a little nervous as he removed himself with great discomfort from Bruce’s lap, meeting Bruce’s heated steel gaze as he stood.

Bruce made him feel secure and safe despite what was happening to him. He felt more settled when he was with Bruce and following his instructions, and more than that, he was starting to enjoy it. Clark knew it was down to these new canine behaviours he had developed, but it made him feel good when Bruce was not just happy, but happy with him. When Bruce praised him.

“Good dogs get collars.” Bruce said, not breaking eye contact as Clark rose. “If that’s what they want?”

"I think it might help," Clark said, nodding his confirmation, and closing his eyes as a new waft of arousal hit him. It was taking every single fibre of his being not to just give in and fly Bruce up to bed this second.

"My ears and tail just feel naturally a part of me like any other part of my body and generally I feel like myself, I don't feel ill or anything like that. Like this is my new natural state, everything feels normal like it did before this happened."

"But?" Bruce pressed him to continue.

"I'm hyper aware of becoming too dependent, too needy. I hear myself sometimes and I hate it, honestly." Clark looked over at Bruce to find him watching him intently. "Stuff like hanging on your every word, seeking your approval-"

"Definitely one of the better traits you’ve developed," Bruce teased, while Clark rolled his eyes in response, he was trying to lighten the mood and Clark appreciated it.

"Oh shut up," Clark shot back, laughing as he did so. "See this is my point, I'm supposed to be the one keeping you grounded, not feeding into your already considerable ego." Clark stood behind his chair, bending over to hug Bruce, arms wrapped loosely around his chest.

“Joking aside.”

“What makes you think I was joking?” Bruce shot back, earning a wry smile from Clark in return.

“I think that’s what I need from you right now,” Clark pressed on, not giving Bruce another opportunity to derail him, “to give me direction, keep me being me.”

“If that’s what you want for now, for me to take the lead, then of course I will.” Bruce finally relaxed into his hold, while Clark rested his chin on his shoulder, feeling content. “I won’t go easy on you though,” Bruce warned.

“When do you ever?” Clark replied, amused.

“Are you kidding? You’re doing untold damage to my reputation, Alfred accused me of becoming a soft touch just the other day.”

“The very idea,” Clark replied mockingly, unable to stifle his laughter, he could only imagine how affronted Bruce must have been at the time. “Your poor pride, that must have hurt, here let me kiss it better,” Clark leaned forward planting a deliberately sloppy kiss on Bruce’s cheek.

“Get off me you dumb mutt!” Bruce said irritably, but there was no bite in his words, shoving Clark off him as he stood.

“Mutt? I’m pure pedigree, one of a kind!” Clark feigned insult, while Bruce gave him a withering look as he exited the kitchen on his way to the cave.

“Good, maybe I can sell you for a decent price,” Bruce shot back from down the hall, leaving Clark grinning happily in the kitchen, giving Bruce a full thirty seconds of respite before he followed him down to the cave.

****

Bruce had gotten out of tighter scrapes than this, though his arm and shoulder still throbbed with considerable pain, the thug's grip had loosened slightly as he and the rest of the gang continued to taunt the Bat.

"You ain't so much of a tough guy now are ya?"

Just a matter of biding his time and lulling them into this false sense of security, let them think they have the advantage.

"Gonna make you squeal like a pig." The thug in front of him advanced forward, bouncing the baseball bat against his palm, a lecherous glint in his eye that would make even the toughest of tough guys squirm. But this was Batman they were dealing with.

"Or maybe a bat-- wait. Hey, Marv, do bats squeal?"

"I dunno boss," the thug that currently held him captive answered, sounding genuinely contemplative as he replied. "I think it's more of a squeak." Marv's grip loosened again as, obviously, he was only able to concentrate on one thing at a time.

"Well, we'll find out soon enough." The leader grinned, closing in on him, while Bruce remained unperturbed. Just a few more seconds and—

"What the hell is that?" One of the gang members practically shrieked from the shadows and before Bruce had time to think, he was stumbling forward suddenly free of his captor in a rush of air and an almost deafening growl that echoed off the walls of the alley. Marv and his boss were out cold on the ground and something moved so quickly in the dark that he struggled to get a focus on it.

"It's a demon!" He heard one of them yell and turned in the direction but the figure had already moved. Most of the gang members had turned on their heel and fled, but the remainder were cornered and begging for their lives.

Immediately, Bruce jumped back on the wall behind him, landing in a crouching position, ready to evade or attack this unknown force, as his mind raced through various outcomes and strategies.

Bruce was trying to assess the situation, but the darkness of the alley made things difficult, the night vision in his cowl failing, he noted with irritation. Marv had evidently given him a better hit to the head than he had given him credit for.

Movement in the corner of his eye took his attention and he saw the boss get to his feet and approach the thing that had the rest of his gang cornered. Stay down you idiot, Bruce thought with exasperation, but not surprise as the thug advanced and swung his bat to take the monster by surprise, or so he thought, and then in a whirl of fabric, glowing red eyes and fur. The leader went flying down the alley, mercifully landing in a heap of garbage bags that broke his fall.

Clark. Bruce's eyes widened in realisation, this couldn't continue a second longer.

"Enough!" Bruce growled, jumping deftly down from the wall back into the alley, his command capturing Clark's attention, but not enough to release the remaining gang members. "Heel!"

Clark turned to face Bruce, his face softening as he looked over at the thoroughly displeased Batman, his attention snapping back to the thugs with a growl as one of them tried to take advantage of Clark’s distraction and make a break for it.

"I said heel!" Bruce commanded again, finally compelling Clark to speed over to him in blur.

"B—"

"I don't want to hear from you. Follow me." Bruce readied his grapple and aimed it towards one of the rooftops, glancing back to Clark as he fired. "Bad dog," Bruce said harshly as he was propelled into the night sky, while Clark followed after him with a wounded expression.

“What the hell are you playing at?” Bruce demanded as he landed squarely on the rooftop, spinning around to face Clark who touched down softly behind him.

“B—I—you heard what they said!”

“It's a miracle they didn’t recognise you,”

“I don’t care.” Clark was defiant, refusing to back down.

“You should, and that’s why I can’t allow this to continue any longer.”

“I won’t let anyone hurt you,” Clark snarled, his ears flattened back against his head showing off his elongated canines. Well that was new, Bruce noted with interest, Clark had been fairly biddable until now and this change in behaviour coinciding with Clark's newly developed canines couldn't be a coincidence.

"We're going back to the cave, which is where you'll stay from now on."

"That's not fair."

"I can't risk you hurting anyone, you'd never forgive yourself, and regardless, Superman can't be seen looking like this—with ears and a tail, glowing red eyes, not to mention terrorising people," Bruce said curtly, firing off the grapple, gliding through the air to the next sky rooftop, making his way back to the batmobile, he needed to get Clark back to the Manor as soon as possible.

"It won't happen again, I promise," Clark pleaded as he followed obediently behind Bruce, not daring to upset him any further.

"I can't take that chance."

"What about the League?"

"I'm suspending you until your condition improves."

"You can't do that."

"You're compromised, it's for your safety, and everyone else's. You'll remain at the Manor until we find a solution."

"You're crating me?" The bitterness was clear in Clark's voice.

"If needs be," Bruce replied flippantly, fully aware that he was inflaming the situation further.

"You can't do that! I'm a person, you can't just keep me caged up like a—like an animal," Clark argued with a defiant snarl, flashing his canines angrily again. Bruce stood unperturbed by Clark's outburst, but these new developments only reinforced his belief that he would be correct in restricting Clark to the Manor from now on until this matter was resolved.

Bruce perched on the edge of a warehouse, casting his gaze down at the Batmobile below, unwilling to discuss the matter any further.

"Will you come back to the cave with me?" Bruce asked carefully, fingers hovering a hair's breadth away from the compartment containing the kryptonite, he didn't want to use it, it was the last thing he wanted to do, but the risk to Clark was too great now.

"Of course." Bruce winced at the hurt in Clark's voice, and the guilt that he had even thought about using the kryptonite, he couldn't bear to look at him for a moment. Bruce shouldn't have doubted him, he still had capacity after all.

"I'm sorry—'' Bruce stood and turned to Clark, instinctively and tentatively reaching out to pet him on the head between his large fluffy dog ears, earning a small, yet somewhat sad smile from his partner.

"I just wish I knew why this is happening to me, I'm trying to keep it under control." Clark sighed sadly.

"I know," Bruce reassured him. "Let's get you home."

Bruce dropped down beside the batmobile, entering the vehicle and waiting for Clark to join him. It always made him smile how Clark always fastened his seat belt despite the fact it was entirely unnecessary, 'because it's the law, B'.

"Bruce," Clark said quietly, his head hung low, dog ears flattened horizontally against his head as he stared down at his feet.

"Hmm?" he answered as he started the engine and pulled out from the alley onto the main road.

"I don't want to be a bad dog," Clark said, so softly and sorrowfully, it cut Bruce straight to his core.

Shit.

"You're not," Bruce replied, one hand on the wheel as he drove them back to the Manor, the other petting Clark between his ears again in a vain attempt to comfort him. "I shouldn't have said that, we'll figure this out. I promise."

****

"Goddamn it!" Bruce sent the last group of slides crashing into the desk in frustration. Bruce had taken yet another sample of Clark's blood, but could see nothing in his vitals and not even a hint of a change to the structure of his DNA, which was impossible given his physiological changes, even for a Kryptonian.

This meant the cause still pointed towards some kind of spell or curse, but Bruce was still trying to identify any possible source. Clark had tried to help as best he could, but he too was at a loss, there had been no discernable link to his Kryptonian biology.

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose, willing himself to find the solution to Clark's dog-like transformation.

Not that it didn't have its perks, he conceded, his mind flashed back to the memory of Clark feverishly rutting against him. Of Clark's thick, wet cock sliding roughly between his cheeks, not having the patience or self control to penetrate him. Clark had been so desperate as he'd pinned Bruce over the sink, leaving Bruce no choice but to watch his frantic lover through the fog of the mirror, cheeks flushed and eyes glazed as he reached his end, while Bruce came white knuckled as he gripped the sides of the basin, his cock trapped against the smooth friction of the porcelain.

Bruce couldn't deny he enjoyed this wilder side of Clark at times, these ruts that Clark had started experiencing were something else, but it wasn't feasible to continue. The world needed Superman, Clark was now pretty much incapacitated by this affliction, unable to fulfil his duties at the Planet or within the League. Bruce grunted as his own cock began to stir at the memory and quickly refocused his attention to the matter at hand.

Clark's defensiveness of Bruce was making even League meetings impossible, let alone actual missions. Initially Clark had been quick to defend Bruce against the others even when Clark himself had disagreed with him and took the side of the others. This had now progressed to the point where Clark was physically guarding Bruce at the Tower, not letting anyone he determined to be a threat to come within touching distance of Bruce.

In this instance, Bruce recognised with interest, the perceived threat did not seem to stem from danger. Bruce had openly admired Diana's beauty more than once, and his flippant comments about Arthur's rugged good looks now reared their ugly heads in his mind, Clark hadn't seemed bothered at the time, probably wasn't. Mercifully he hadn't bothered trying to guard him from Hal, so Bruce gratefully acknowledged Clark still had some clarity and judgement.

Clark, poor Clark, confined here to the Manor until further notice, doing his best to try and resolve the situation. At least in the last weeks the symptoms had seemed to reach a plateau with his tail, ears and finally his canines developing.

Clark was trying so hard to control these impulses, he was getting better though, it was easier to get a hold on his new behaviours if he could keep calm and focus on something.

"Hey, B." Clark suddenly appeared next to Bruce in the cave in a whoosh of air.

"Yeah?" Bruce looked up to see Clark with a bright, sunny smile, tail wagging steadily behind him.

"I brought you a thing." Clark placed the thing promptly into Bruce's hand, immediately looking down at him with anticipation, anxious for his reaction.

Bruce looked down at the cool flat weight in his hand, it was a stone, a deep maroon colour, that Bruce noted was roughly in the shape of a heart.

"I was helping Alfred in the garden, getting some fresh air and I saw this, and I don't know why, but I had a real bad urge to show it to you."

"Thanks, Clark," Bruce answered finally, with a soft smirk, if Clark wasn't cute enough already, this puppy-like behaviour was going to kill him.

"Made me think of you," Clark admitted. "Sorry, I know it's dumb and you're busy. It's these stupid impulses, I can't help myself. I'm trying to control myself, Bruce. Some of these traits I deal with, but other times, it's just frustrating."

"I know you are." Bruce stood up to face a now deflated looking Clark. "Thank you for my stone, I like it." Clark needed reassurance, and true, usually Bruce would find this kind of thing toe curlingly painful, but the gesture was so innocent it couldn't help but warm his heart. It was exactly the endearingly dorky kind of thing Clark would do, even if he wasn't turning into a literal puppy

Bruce leaned forward and captured Clark's lips in a soft kiss.

"Try not to stress, ok? I think it might make it worse. I have a new theory that I'm working on."

"Anything if you think it'll help," Clark replied hopefully.

Bruce moved to turn back to his desk, when Clark stopped him.

Bruce now wondered if trying to suppress the doglike traits would cause Clark more stress. It seemed these behaviours and instincts were becoming just as natural as his human-Kryptonian nature. Surely this would only end up being detrimental to Clark in the long run. He needed to keep Clark as emotionally, mentally and physically healthy as he could in the meantime.

Chapter Text

Clark bristled with excitement as he stood on top of the skyscraper, his cape gently billowing in the high rise city breeze, anticipating Bruce's instructions. This was the first time he'd been out for weeks, aside from a couple of closely monitored League missions, and he was intrigued to know what Bruce had planned.

"I know you've been finding it hard the last few weeks, having to stay at home, especially with this extra energy you need to burn off," Bruce's modulated voice broke him from his thoughts.

"So I thought you might enjoy joining me in a training exercise."

"Are you kidding? What is it, what are we doing?" Clark said excitedly, his tail wagging furiously behind him, grinning broadly, he hadn't expected this. Typical Bruce, the man of few words he was, had told Clark he was coming with him and Clark wasn't going to argue if it meant he could leave the Manor for at least a few hours. There was only so much time someone could stay in doors without going at least a little stir crazy.

"As I'm feeling generous." Clark didn't need to be able to see behind the cowl to know that Bruce was raising a disapproving brow at him when Clark scoffed, not quietly enough, at his comment. "We'll be playing to your strengths. I've devised a cat and mouse scenario, although in this case, I suppose cat and dog would be more appropriate." Bruce smirked while Clark rolled his eyes at Bruce's lame joke, but he didn't lose his smile.

"Great, I'm ready!" Clark's ears were perked forward, upright, while his tail continued to wag steadily behind him.

"Wait," Bruce said, holding his hand up, stopping Clark in his tracks.

"There's some details we have to run through first."

"Bruce," Clark complained with a slight whine, eager to start the exercise.

"So you're aware, I've been in contact with Zatanna, she's put a temporary masking spell on you, in case you're seen," Bruce said, and Clark couldn't help but feel a flash of annoyance that Bruce had authorised the use of magic upon him without his knowledge, but that thought quickly went as the excitement of the impending chase continued to build.

"Although as we still don't know what's affecting you, she can't guarantee how long it'll last for. So for all intents and purposes you're Nightwing tonight."

"So if someone was to see me, they'd just think I was Dick?"

"Precisely."

"Can I still use my powers?"

"Of course. I don't anticipate us being seen, this is a failsafe. I know you've had difficulty focusing your powers recently, but try and be aware of anyone or anything nearby."

"Bruce?"

'Hmm?"

"What do I look like to you?"

"Like Lassie on steroids."

"Very funny," Clark replied, glaring at Bruce. "I meant, do I look like me or do I look like Dick?"

"You look like you. I'm not affected by the spell."

"Cool, so if I use my powers, would people be able to see them?"

"Yes."

"So if I use my heat vision, it'll look like Nightwing is using it?"

"Why would you be using your heat vision in a pursuit drill, unless you're planning on frying me instead of capturing me."

"Good point!" Clark chuckled sheepishly. "I definitely want to capture you," Clark said, licking his lips, voice laced with lust as his mind raced with the possibilities as he subconsciously moved towards Bruce. Oh boy, he was getting worked up already.

"Down, boy." Bruce smirked back at him, pushing him firmly in the chest, he hadn't realised he had gotten so close. This dog thing was really messing with his mind, he hated to admit it, but Bruce was probably right to temporarily suspend him from official duties.

"Alright, alright. Can we go now? Please."

"Rules are, I get a two minute head start. You wait here, no listening, no looking and definitely no smelling until the time is up. Got that?" Clark nodded eagerly as Bruce strode towards the edge of the building. "After that, all bets are off."

"When you're ready."

"Oh, sorry!" Clark closed his eyes, took a deep breath, centering himself so he could block out the sound. Darn it! He was so easily distracted at the moment, especially in regards to Bruce, but what mattered was that he focused on the task Bruce had given him right now.

After what felt like the longest two minutes of his life, Clark finally opened his eyes and relaxed, fully opening his senses to the world again. He cast his gaze over to the east, the direction that Bruce had been heading in when he closed his eyes, but Clark wasn't naive enough to think that was the direction Bruce had actually gone in.

The dog in him encouraged him to sniff the air, while his sense of smell had always been great before the transformation, it wasn't a sense that he relied on as much as his vision or hearing. Dogs were led by their noses and recently Clark had not been any different and Bruce always smelled so good.

Focus. Clark pulled himself back together, this was the first time he'd been out in weeks and he really didn't want to disappoint Bruce.

Bruce's Batman scent of leather, kevlar and odour mask hung in the air still and he followed it off to the east, he guessed Bruce had gone that way after all. This was too easy, Clark thought to himself as he followed the scent between the adject skyscrapers. Unless Bruce thought he was so incapacitated by his condition that he had to make things easy for him? He felt a pang of hurt at the thought. He had been finding it harder to concentrate lately, the need to eat, sleep, play and fuck was overriding his ability to act normally and carry out his usual activities.

Maybe Bruce was right, Clark thought sadly as he drifted through the air. He felt lost without Bruce already, this wasn't a normal or safe state of mind at all.

Focus. Clark dragged himself back to the present, back to the job at hand; follow Bruce's scent and track him down-

Clark stopped suddenly, hovering over the edge of a rooftop, Bruce's scent had disappeared, just like that. Dead. He couldn't smell him anymore, and Clark couldn't help but beam with joy. Bruce hadn't doubted him at all, he'd found some way of masking his scent completely. The hunt was on.

Plan B, Clark circled the building searching for any hint of Bruce's scent, while he tried to search out Bruce's heartbeat amongst the millions of heartbeats that resided in Gotham City.

Nothing. Clark felt a stab of panic, and began frantically scanning the area, trying to find any trace of Bruce. He couldn't just vanish into thin air without a trace, not from him anyway, even if it was Batman's MO. What if something had happened to Bruce, what if he couldn't find him? Clark's breathing quickened and he started darting around erratically trying to find any sign of Bruce, the longer this went on the more anxious he became. He needed to find Bruce now.

Clark's breathing became faster still, his only thought now was finding Bruce amongst the rising panic in his chest. He should have found him by now, why couldn't he find him? Clark clutched his head, he'd felt like this once before, when he was a teen trying to get a hold of his powers. Ma had calmed him then, told him he was having a panic attack, something he assumed he would be invulnerable to now.

Clark drew in deep breaths, trying to stop his thoughts from spiralling, as he still found no trace of Bruce anywhere. What if? He hadn't tried to combine the strength of his hearing with his canine hearing, usually flitting between the two depending on his dominant state of mind.

Clark's head snapped up, it was there, faint and slightly muffled, but he would know that sound if he had to search a whole galaxy of heartbeats. It was coming from the direction of the Financial District.

Clark took off in that direction, mindful of at least appearing that he was running along the rooftops in case he was seen. As he got closer to Bruce, the sound became fainter until it disappeared entirely. So that must mean the strength of whatever signal or device was scrambling his heartbeat was determined by proximity. Bruce had to be close now.

Clark touched down on the edge of the building, carefully surveying his surroundings, making sure to check everywhere for the slightest sound or movement. He sniffed the air again, this time only able to detect the scent of chemicals, but there was no distinct trail.

Clark stepped forward, intending to move on, when he saw a flicker of movement in the corner of his eye. Gotcha. Clark took off into the air and flew past the building, hoping to give Bruce the impression he'd been undetected, the perfect opportunity for a sneak attack.

Whatever cloaking device Bruce was using was obviously effective, Clark hadn't been able to see him when he thoroughly scanned the area moments before. This must be why he'd invited Clark out for the training exercise, he wanted to test his new equipment.

Clark circled the building as swiftly and silently as he could, planning the perfect sneak attack on the camouflaged Batman. Clark grinned as he closed in on Bruce.

"Gotcha-" Clark shot forward to capture Bruce, but was met with a blast of green dust to the face, sending him coughing and spluttering to the floor, as Bruce grappled away to safety. It took Clark a few seconds longer than it should have to realise his breathing was unaffected after all, and he was completely fine.

Bruce made an amused noise at his realisation, the quiet rumble of silent laughter transmitting through his earpiece, rallying him as he soared into the air.

"Hey, that's not fair," Clark complained into the comms, making sure Bruce could hear him, only to be met with silence. "Better keep on your toes. I will catch you, Batman," Clark said with renewed vigour, before shooting off in pursuit of Bruce.

As he closed in on Bruce, a shrill noise suddenly penetrated his thoughts, stopping him in his tracks, it was coming from the opposite direction. A strange noise, like nothing he'd ever heard before, pierced straight through him and he lost all focus, the sound dominating all of his thought processes. Then as quickly as it had started, it stopped again, leaving Clark to refocus on his pursuit of Bruce. That had to be one of Bruce's distraction techniques.

Clark scanned his surroundings, he'd lost track of Bruce for a second there, so whatever it was had obviously worked in his favour.

Clark focused his hearing again, trying to get a hold on Bruce's location. No heartbeat, so he had to be reasonably close still. The creaking of a metal door being forced open, captured his attention immediately and his head snapped around to follow the sound. It came from what appeared to be an abandoned factory. Clark tentatively drew nearer as he investigated from afar.

Frustratingly, the walls were coated in lead paint, partially obscuring his vision in large patches where the paint still remained.

Scanning the area, he saw no sign of Bruce, but this almost certainly meant he must be in the vicinity. If it was just some kid or thug breaking into the warehouse, Clark would have heard them, even if they were trying to hide from someone else, their noise wouldn't have evaded his notice. Calmly Clark closed in on the building, being careful not to give Bruce any indication how close he was.

Now that he was closer, he was going to try and see if he could seek out Bruce's heartbeat despite the scrambler. He needed to be precise if he was going to successfully ambush Bruce this time.

Clark sat on the edge of the factory roof, concentrating every inch of his energy on listening for Bruce's heartbeat, blocking out everything else as he tried to hone in on it. Then he heard it, faint as a whisper, for a few seconds before he lost it again.

Clark rose to his feet, hovering a few inches above the ground so as not to make a sound and looked through concrete. He almost missed it at first, scanning too quickly through the patchy lead walls, something or rather someone, was hiding on the third floor.

Clark surveyed the area, and possible escape routes. The fire exit, where he had probably gained access, the stairs, parts of the ceiling that were probably weak enough to blast the grapple through if Bruce was desperate. There was only one thing for it, Clark floated over several feet so that he was directly above Bruce's position. Did Bruce know he was here, that he was this close?

He did now.

Clark dropped through the roof of the factory, and the ceiling of the floor below to land directly in front of Bruce.

"I would have thought you'd know better than to back yourself into a corner." Clark grinned as he immediately pinned Bruce into the wall behind him. "Got you." Clark's grin only widened as Bruce scowled back at him.

"Took you long enough," Bruce growled through the modulator, in a poor attempt to save face. Clark would let him have that, it only amused him further.

"You gave me a good run. You got new equipment?"

Bruce nodded in confirmation

"I'll need to record the results when we get back to the cave." Bruce tried to move from underneath him, and Clark eased his hold a little, as he realised he still had him pinned against the wall.

"I told you I wanted to capture you, Batman." Clark couldn't resist the temptation to press his nose into the crook of Bruce's neck, before pulling back to plant a soft kiss at the corner of his mouth. Smelling Bruce had fast become one of his most favourite and comforting things, since his transformation, but he couldn't blame Bruce for finding it more than a little weird.

"Not here."

"Sorry." Clark stepped back, giving Bruce the space he needed. "It's just all the adrenaline, it's got me all riled up." Or rather, Bruce got him all riled up, but he kept it to himself.

"I'll bring in the Batwing, let's go." Bruce turned away, readying for the departure.

"Don't." Clark grabbed his arm, stopping him from leaving or triggering the Batwing's remote response. "I'll fly us back."

"Clark-" Bruce began, and Clark stopped his argument before he could begin.

"Look, we've just done a whole training exercise and it was fine."

"You panicked."

"As long as I'm with you, I'll be fine. I just feel so at-" Clark paused as he searched for the right word, "home when I'm with you." Bruce looked away and Clark heard the slight uptick of his heart and he knew he had won.

"Let's go," Bruce gruffed, firing his grapple through the hole Clark had made in the ceiling.

"Gotham sure is beautiful at night," Clark said, taking in the stunning view of the glittering lights along the iconic skyline, reflecting down onto the river. Bruce sounded his agreement.

"Her beauty belies her danger, a somewhat acquired taste." Clark pulled Bruce close to him, encouraging Bruce to stand on his feet so he could carry him in, what Bruce considered, the most dignified way possible.

"Speaking of acquired tastes," Clark said, gently cupping Bruce's jaw and forcing him to look at him, his other arm wrapped around Bruce's waist, the adrenaline still coursing through his veins. "Sometimes danger can be beautiful." Clark captured Bruce's lips in a passionate kiss, pulling him close as Clark carried him up into the night sky.

****

Alfred greeted them as they entered the cave with freshly brewed coffee, cucumber sandwiches and a slice of apple pie especially for Clark.

"Good evening, Master Bruce, Master-"

"It's me, Clark, Alfred. This is just a disguise," Clark said helpfully, while Bruce removed his cowl, rolling his eyes affectionately at Clark's obvious statement.

"Of course, Sir. Unless there's been a dramatic development that I'm unaware of, Master Dick lacks the ability to fly," Alfred replied with a wry smile.

"Oh, right." Clark chuckled awkwardly, but didn't miss Bruce's huff of amusement at Alfred's comment.

"I trust the training was successful?" Alfred poured them each a cup of coffee. Bruce grunted, while Clark still buzzed with excitement as he gave a blow by blow account of what had happened to Alfred.

"Thank you, Alfred." Bruce took a long draw of his coffee and moved towards the main console. "Come on, we've got work to do." Bruce immediately began inputting data, ignoring Clark’s deflated sigh as he bid Alfred goodnight.

"I need your feedback on the new equipment." Bruce poised over the keyboard, waiting for Clark's vital input. Clark was still pumping with adrenaline after the training, he had managed to settle himself a little, but Bruce was still the only thing on his mind.

"The scrambler works well, I can't hear your heartbeat within close range, but once I worked out the signal was weaker from a distance I could just hang back and determine a rough location and then close in. When I couldn't hear it I knew you were close by, so it was just a matter of time until I found you."

"You couldn't hear me at all at close proximity?" Bruce asked, furiously typing all the information into the report.

"No, well, I managed right at the end when I was right next to the building, but it wasn't easy." Clark absently rubbed the back of his neck, stretching as he spoke. "I had to concentrate real hard, I sort of combined my normal hearing with my canine hearing and I managed to key in to your heartbeat. It was still really quiet and it was hard to focus." Clark sighed deeply as he recounted the event. "It was quite an effort. I don't think it would have worked if I was normal."

"Interesting. I don't think I have tech capable of expanding the range at the moment, but it's something that can be developed."

"You're not planning on using that all the time are you?" Clark felt a wave of anxiety wash over him at the thought of not being able to source Bruce's heartbeat if he needed to.

"It's a strong possibility. Why?"

"I like listening out for you," Clark answered honestly, hoping he didn't seem too needy. The dog side of him had caused his attachment to deepen and although he worked hard on it, he knew Bruce found it difficult to cope with at times. Listening to Bruce's heartbeat had always been a source of comfort for him, but Bruce's safety was paramount, he wouldn't press him any further on it.

Clark watched as Bruce meticulously recorded the information he was giving him, the warmth deepening in his gut. He looked so sexy like this, in the batsuit, no cowl with his hair all mussed, deep in concentration. Clark's interest peaked further and he didn't realise he had pressed closer until he became aware of Bruce's hand pushing against his shoulder with an annoyed Clark as he regained his personal space.

"Do you know how sexy you look right now?" Clark said, pressing his nose into Bruce's neck, just below his ear.

"Not right now, Clark." Bruce scowled, pulling away from him with obvious irritation. "What about visuals?"

"I wasn't expecting it at all," Clark said honestly as he pushed through the fog of lust threatening to take over his thought process completely, but remained pressed against Bruce. "If you keep still and you're close to something else that my vision can't penetrate, I'm not able to see you, unless-"

"Unless?" Bruce asked irritably, the delicate scent of pheromones, causing Clark's skin to prickle with heat. Bruce's body was beginning to react to him and this only fueled Clark’s arousal. "Unless you move. Then I see the movement, kinda like the T-Rex in Jurassic Park." Clark pressed closer to Bruce, letting him feel the pressure of Clark’s arousal pressing into the side of his leg.

"That makes sense- Clark," Bruce gritted angrily, trying in vain to push him away. "Give me some space, or you'll be waiting even longer."

"That's not fair," Clark whined his complaint, but stopped pressing into Bruce, but was unable to pull himself away completely. "You can't get me all worked up like this and expect me to just sit here, when you look so good, smell so good."

"Wait."

"I don't know how effective it would be generally," Clark huffed, giving Bruce a hasty run down with the hope that they could move on quickly from this, his need for Bruce beginning to override everything else. "It's also easy to spot you if you're the only thing I can't see through, kinda makes you stand out."

"Noted."

Bruce's terse reply did nothing to dampen Clark's desire as he pressed his nose just below Bruce's ear again, relishing the scent as one hand caressed his inner thigh, the other smoothing over the back of Bruce's suit, pressing his finger into the kevlar to pushing down into the space between Bruce's cheeks.

"I swear to god, Clark, if you rip this suit, you will know what it means to be a bad dog and I won't be sorry about it."

"Can't say that I care right now." Clark attempted to slide his hand further between Bruce's legs but his hand was abruptly pushed away, though the scent pheromones in the air deepened.

"Scent?" Bruce asked directly and Clark groaned deep and low, tongue flicking out to lick from the edge of the suit up to the bottom of Bruce's ear.

"Leather, kevlar, grime, sweat, sex." The heat in Clark's voice was thick to his own ears, lost in the haze of his own lust at the scent of Bruce's underlying arousal.

"Clark, I need you to focus."

"I couldn't smell anything, anything that was you anyway. It's strong. I did smell some chemicals in the air but it masked your scent."

"Good."

"All three together worked well, took me longer than I liked to find you," Clark said, sliding his hand around Bruce's waist, fumbling with the clip on his utility belt, careful not to break it in his eagerness.

"Leave," Bruce said firmly, punctuating his words in effort to get through to him, but Clark continued to massage between his cheeks as best he could without ripping the suit. Truth be told, he didn't really want to endure Bruce's wrath over a ripped suit later on.

"No. I need you, Bruce." Clark crowded Bruce further against the console, panting with excitement into the crook of Bruce's neck, every sense overwhelmed by his desire for Bruce.

Clark yelped in surprise when suddenly Bruce angrily shoved him away.

"And you can have me," Bruce snapped, shrugging away from Clark as he continued with his work. "But not until we're done here."

“Hey, don’t be mad at me, you know I can’t help-” Clark said angrily, ears flattened back against his head, pulling Bruce around to face him.

“Yes you can!” Bruce bit back as he turned to face him. “You need to learn to control yourself, Clark. As much as I’d like to be able to just drop everything, wherever and whenever, to fuck you, it’s not going to happen.” Clark was taken back by Bruce’s reaction. He knew Bruce was irritated, despite his arousal, but he hadn’t been expecting that outburst. His heart had been so full when Bruce had taken them training, he hadn’t meant to push him this far.

“Bruce, I didn’t mean-”

“I’m serious, Clark. We don’t know what this is, how long it may go on for, or if it's going to get worse, and we have no cure for it. You need to learn to live with and manage all of these new behaviours and instincts.” Clark nodded in quiet acceptance. Bruce was right, but it still hurt, he didn’t want to annoy Bruce. What if he never went back to normal and Bruce didn’t want to put up with him anymore? His ears flattened against his head, and something softened in Bruce’s eyes.

“I know you can do it, you manage your Kryptonian powers just fine.” Clark’s tail began wagging cautiously again.

“Can I just-” Clark asked, carefully taking hold of Bruce’s arm, he just wanted a hug.

“No.” Bruce gently removed his arm from Clark’s hold, his tone still firm, but softer this time. “You can sit here with me and wait until I’m done and after I’m all yours, like I said.” Clark’s erection still raged in his suit, but he was feeling subdued, the mixed feelings leaving him conflicted. “If it’s too much for you, you can go upstairs to the bedroom and I’ll come up and find you later."

Bruce turned back to the console, and sat down, his focus firmly back on the computer. Clark stood there, not sure what to do with himself, his tail between his legs, ears drooping sadly. Maybe it would be better if he got out Bruce’s way and gave him some peace. Clark wavered back forth, before finally making his way over to Bruce, sitting quietly next to him on the floor. Gingerly he rested his head against Bruce’s leg, a rush of warm relief washing over him when Bruce’s hand came to rest on his head a few minutes later, absently petting Clark between his ears as he finished the report.

Chapter Text

"Thanks for agreeing to teach me your secret recipe, Alfred." Clark smiled down at the chopping board as he sliced up the carrots for the soup. "Bruce has been so supportive and I know he's been working all hours trying to figure out why I've sort of turned into a dog."

"You're more than welcome, Sir, in fact it's a pleasure to share it with you." Alfred placed a frying pan on the stove next to Clark and a small stick of butter in, melting it gently along with a mixture of fragrant spices. "It makes a nice change to have someone that is actually enthusiastic about spending time in my kitchen." Clark chuckled as he neatly diced the onions.

"It's always a pleasure to help you, Alfred," Clark said as he scraped the onions into the pan with a sizzle. "I know Bruce has been really struggling with this, on top of everything else. I just want to do something nice for him." Clark cleaned the chopping board quickly before moving on to the chicken. "As you know, he's not the easiest person to do things for."

"I would tend to agree, however, it is notable how well Master Bruce tolerates these gestures from you."

"Tolerate is probably the right word," Clark chuckled self-deprecatingly, plopping the chicken in with the onions and the lamb that Alfred had prepared.

"Don't underestimate yourself, Master Clark," Alfred said seriously, taking Clark off guard for a moment. "And don't underestimate how much you mean to him."

"Thanks, Alfred." Clark smiled, feeling a slight blush rise to his cheeks, suddenly unable to wait to see Bruce again.

"Sir, if I may ask that you try and control your canine tendencies in the kitchen?"

"Oh, sorry!" Clark said sheepishly at the sound of objects clattering to the ground behind him, no doubt due to his wagging tail. He closed his eyes and pictured the calm, peaceful fields of the farm back home, comforting and calming.

"So how did you discover this Mulligans-Mulligator-"

"Mulligatawny Soup," Alfred offered helpfully.

"That's it, it's a bit of a tongue twister," Clark said, with a bright smile.

"Chop up the lamb and put that in the pan as well," Alfred said as he stirred the contents of the pan. Clark nodded and began chopping the meat as instructed.

"I have travelled extensively across the many years I served in Her Majesty's forces and so—"

Clark gasped suddenly, dropping the knife onto the chopping board, and clutched his ears. A sharp sound overwhelmed his senses. There was an underlying mellowness to the sound and Clark tried to hone in on the source, but as instantly as it had started, it was gone.

"What is it, Sir, are you alright?" Clark was suddenly aware of Alfred's calm voice, steady and reassuring as regained his focus.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Clark smiled, trying to reassure Alfred as best he could. "I just heard something, but it's gone now," Clark said, feeling the need to explain when Alfred looked at him with a dour expression not dissimilar to the one Bruce gave him when he wasn't convinced. Which is probably where he got it from.

"Sir," Alfred pressed gently, and Clark immediately felt a pang of guilt that he hadn't been entirely truthful.

"I've heard it before, a few times over the last couple of weeks, usually lasts for about a second- it was more distracting than anything. That's the longest it's gone on for. How long-"

"Approximately twenty seconds, Sir."

"Right."

"Does Master Bruce know you've been experiencing this?"

"No," Clark replied quietly. "I didn't think it was anything to worry about and you know how seriously he takes everything, it didn't seem worth mentioning." Clark sighed deeply. "And now it's going to be even worse when he finds out. I'll get the whole 'I told you so' lecture. Again." Clark groaned, earning a small smirk from Alfred in return.

"While I appreciate your dilemma wholeheartedly, I think it may be wise to inform Master Bruce from now on. As tiresome as it may be for him to be right, in this case, I feel it would be best for him to be aware of the whole situation, in case something were to happen."

"Yeah, you're right, Alfred. I'll tell him when he gets home, hopefully the soup will take the edge off." Clark grinned brightly, reassured as he continued to chop up the lamb and added it to the pan.

Clark finished the soup preparation under Alfred's guidance, leaving the soup to boil steadily on the stove, and began clearing the work surfaces despite Alfred's protests that the cleaning of the kitchen should be left to him. Clark lifted the chopping board to wipe beneath it, when the high pitched sound returned and he was vaguely aware of the chopping board crashing to the ground as he immediately reached to cover his ears again.

The sound was compounding his senses again, the noise rattled around his brain and he tried again to focus on the source of the noise. Where was it coming from, what was causing it, why was it having this affect? The mellow undertones seemed stronger this time, the longer it went on, the more he wanted to seek the comfort of the sound. And when had it become comforting? Clark groaned in frustration as he tried to block out the noise, he had to hold on, he tried to breathe like Bruce had told him, to try and focus.

Clark didn't know how long it had been when he came to, hunched over the kitchen worktop and suddenly became aware of the warm pressure of Alfred’s hand on his shoulder. "Master Clark."

The sound seemed to lessen in intensity, but though it was still there, he was now able to hear Alfred, and so concentrated all his energy on listening to the butler to ground him.

"Master Clark," Alfred said again more firmly this time, and it was another moment before Clark finally felt like he could answer.

"Alfred," Clark replied, placing his hand over Alfred's which now gently squeezed his shoulder.

"I presume it happened again?"

"Yeah, how long?"

"Several minutes, Sir."

"I can still hear it, Alfred." Clark's voice was pained as he turned to face him. "I think I need to go."

"Go where, Sir?"

"I don't know." Clark gasped as the shrill noise increased in volume, his concentration was slipping. "I need to find it." Clark stood up and stepped back, taking a deep breath, he could feel himself slipping again.

"Stay with me, Sir." Alfred reached out and took hold of his arm, but Clark brushed him off.

"Don't—I don't want—" Clark doubled over again, his forearms covering his ears as his hands desperately tried to cover his canine ones to block out the sound.

"Sir, listen to me." Alfred's voice was calm and steady, but he was beginning to feel hazy, the sound was louder again, though not as loud as before but there was something magnetic about it, something—

"I'm contacting Master Bruce. Just try and hold on."

"Bruce," Clark gasped. Yes, Bruce would know what to do. He pictured Bruce, serious, yet comforting, as he figured out the solution to help him. He closed his eyes, trying to keep the image of Bruce in his mind, but the sound penetrated his thoughts further and Clark cried out in despair as it dissipated. Clark could hear Alfred talking to Bruce, to him, he wasn't sure. The noise was now thrumming in his head. He couldn't think about anything else. He just needed to leave, find it, whatever it was. He couldn't take it anymore.

Clark stumbled out of the kitchen in a haze, vaguely aware of Alfred following him. He was getting more agitated by the second, he felt hot, he needed to… Clark began tearing frantically at his clothes, as he made his way to the entrance of the Manor, until all that was left was his suit. It felt better, but it wasn't enough to alleviate the sensation. Clark stumbled forward against the front door, breaking the door open as he tried to steady himself.

Clark growled as he staggered through the splintered doorway, and shot up into the sky.

****

"Christ," Bruce muttered as he saw the devastation that had been wrought at the entrance to the Manor, pulling up sharply and getting out of the car.

The doorway was missing, chunks of stone and large splinters of wood lay strewn about the forecourt, with some of the debris still inside. Bruce was already working out how this could be explained when the builders and restorationists inevitably arrived, as he stepped through the gaping hole into his home.

"Downstairs, Sir." Bruce grunted in acknowledgement and made his way down to the cave.

"Any news, Alfred?" Bruce asked immediately as he entered the cave, relieved to see that true to his word, Alfred appeared free from harm or injury. Clark would have gone out of his way not to hurt Alfred or put him in danger, that might explain what happened upstairs.

"I'm afraid not, Sir." Alfred tapped a few more keys on the console, expertly monitoring the vicinity for any sign of Clark. "Everything is ready for you."

"Thanks, Alfred," Bruce replied, already changing into his suit. "You said Clark could hear something, did he elaborate on what it was?"

"No, he didn't know what it was or where it was coming from, I'm afraid." Bruce grunted in frustration as he strode towards the Batmobile platform.

"Wait, Sir." Bruce paused just before boarding the plane. "There seems to be some activity at the harbour, nothing particularly out of the ordinary, but it's the only thing we have to go on."

"Right."

"And, Sir?" Alfred said, as Bruce nodded for him to continue. "Do you have it with you?"

Bruce hesitated, but said nothing and looked past him into the darkness of the cave, unable to meet Alfred's eyes.

"I sincerely hope you don't have to use it," Alfred said gently.

"So do I."

****

"A tip has just come into the GCPD about a potential explosive device in the building."

"Where?"

"The roof, the HDU are being called in."

"Tell Gordon to hold off for now."

Bruce made his way across the city to the GCPD, stopping on an adjacent building to survey the area. The headquarters were already evacuated, the area taped and cordoned off to the public. Good.

Bruce crossed over to the police headquarters, perching expertly on one of the gargoyles that guarded the perimeter, scanning the surface for any sign of a bomb or other type of explosive. His scanner didn't pick up any sign of live material, but there appeared to be something in the vicinity of the bat signal and so he went to investigate.

"It's the Joker," Bruce informed Alfred as he advanced on the large purple gift wrapped present. "I can't find any signs of explosive material. I'm going to open it."

"Take care, Sir."

There was a button at the centre of the large green bow that decorated the box. Bruce pressed it and immediately retreated to what he hoped was a safe distance away.

Silence for a long tense moment, and then a crackle of sound followed by the familiar voice of the Joker.

"To my owner, rude, I’d never be. Yet I’ll stick out my tongue for all to see. Who am I?"

Bruce clenched his fists, the suggestive tone in Joker's voice as it recited the riddle made him bristle with disgust. Too crude for The Riddler, a poor imitation, but that wasn't the Joker's goal. The purpose was to rile him and to let him know he had control of Clark. Bruce focused in on the low sound of a fog horn in the background, giving away The Joker’s location, when he recorded the message at least. It gave Bruce somewhere concrete to start.

"The Joker has S—" A sudden beeping from the box caught his attention, numbers had appeared on the face of the button he'd pressed. Three, two, one. Bruce didn't have time to react as the counter reached zero with a furious beeping sound, and then flipped open, a comic book style panel with the word bang popping out from the box with a shower of confetti.

"Tell Gordon it was a hoax and the coast is clear, but best to still let the HDU do their thing to make sure."

"Yes, Sir."

"From what I could hear, I'm certain Joker is hiding out in the docks somewhere. I'll make my way there now."

"Right you are."

****

The Gotham docks were quiet, too quiet for this time in the evening. It was still light, the sun was only just beginning to set, and the usually bustling harbour was still.

Bruce surveyed the area, he was fairly sure the Joker had set up shop in the derelict Dock 93, it had been condemned and was due to be refurbished into a new waterside complex.

"I'm heading in." Bruce didn't wait for a reply as he entered the docklands, and made his way to the old landing pier, none of the Joker's men that he could see, but that wasn't surprising. Bruce didn't anticipate an attack yet. Joker wanted him to find him, see what he had accomplished, wanted to taunt him and try and get a rise out of him.

Bruce stopped halfway across the harbour, still on the landlocked side, and scanned the pier. Bingo. Joker's thugs hung around the perimeter of the building and there on the roof itself, sat the Joker on a chair as if he was perched on a throne, a handful of his goons scattered around him, but no sign of Clark. No sign of Harley either, indicating that she was probably stationed with him, so they had to be nearby.

Bruce cracked his neck; this wasn't the first trap he'd knowingly walked into, but it was probably one of the most important. Clark's life, safety and dignity were at stake.

With no time to waste, Bruce quickly traversed across the last few buildings and glided down onto the roof of the abandoned facility to his expected welcome in front of the Joker.

Joker sat casually in an old rusted chair, as if it were a throne, one leg over the other, leaned back as he grinned at Bruce.

"It's been a while, Bats, but I just knew you'd find time in your busy schedule to come and visit little old me on this beautiful evening."

"Where is he?"

Joker shifted forward in his chair and Bruce caught a glimpse of something in the inside of his jacket as the fabric rumpled forward with the movement.

"How rude of me, I invited you here to see my new pet, and he's not even here," Joker said, smiling gleefully as Bruce stared at him impassively. Batman knew how to deal with the Joker. He was putting on a show, and would not attack Bruce directly with force, for now. He wanted to show off that he had captured the all powerful Superman, wanted to be lauded and admired for his wit and intelligence, but they both knew Batman wouldn't be the one to indulge him.

"Harls!" Joker commanded and several long seconds passed before Harley emerged from around the corner of the rooftop exit.

"You're gonna be so impressed, Mister J— Oh hey, B-Man," Harley casually greeted Bruce with a wave of her hand as she strolled towards the Joker, grinning broadly with a spring in her step. Clark followed obediently behind her, a wide black collar studded with metal spikes sat snuggly around his neck, a leash was attached, but it was slack in Harley's hand. "I taught him a new trick, watch." Bruce watched as she unclipped the leash from the collar.

"Wait." Harley ordered gently and then fished something round out of her pocket, tossing it once in the air and catching it again, and then throwing it off the roof of the building. "Fetch," she commanded and Clark disappeared in a blur and reappeared with a rush of wind, the grenade held gently between his teeth.

"Give." Harley held her hand out in front of Clark and beamed as Clark obediently dropped the grenade into her hand, pin still intact, Bruce registered. Bruce remained impassive though, trying to ease the tensing of his body, the anger of the indignity that Clark was being put through.

Bruce thought back to how he had been concerned of overstepping the boundaries in regards to canine needs, worried that he was taking advantage of those traits even though Clark had told him in no uncertain terms that's what he wanted. When Clark had shown interest in the collar, the reassurance he got from Bruce taking control, Bruce had been helping him manage his canine traits. But this here, now, what he was witnessing in front of him, was what he had been afraid of overstepping into, and it was then he realised with almost certainty that he never could have done this to Clark.

Not by accident.

Not at all.

Not ever.

"That's it." Harley's bright voice broke through his clouded thoughts. "Paw." She held out her hand and beamed with joy as Clark placed his hand on hers. "Good boy, Supes!" She grinned, shaking his hand up and down and scratching between his ears, while Clark smiled down at her, his tail wagging happily behind him.

"See, Mr J. I told you I was good with animals!" Harley beamed with pride as she reattached the leash again.

Bruce prided himself on his resiliency, his control, his ability to not let his emotions or feelings affect his judgement, but more recently he had learned that this was all much easier when not watching the man he loved being stripped of his dignity before his eyes. Bruce released a controlled breath, of course to protect Clark he would stand his ground, he couldn't let Joker have the slightest inkling that Superman was anything more than an ally to him.

"You moron!" Joker said, angrily leaping out his chair towards Harley and Clark. "You were supposed to make him more aggressive, not waste time teaching him stupid tricks, you stupid bitch." Joker continued to rant at Harley, as he approached them.

"I'm sorry, Mr J, I'll teach him the other stuff," Harley said, cowering as the Joker raised his hand to strike her, but before he could land the blow, Clark stepped in front of her, eyes red, growling in warning.

"What do you think you're doing you dumb mutt?" Joker asked, his rage escalating as Clark defended Harley against him, aborting the movement and instead grabbing hold of Clark's leash. "I'm your owner, you take orders from me."

A spark of hope lit up within Bruce. Clark's instinct to defend and protect was still present, maybe he could get through to Clark and stop this before things got out of hand.

Joker pulled out the object Bruce had noticed earlier from inside his jacket and blew into it, there was no sound that he could hear but Clark immediately lifted his head and flew to his side. That must have been the noise Alfred had told him about. The Joker wrapped the leash around his hand, snapping it harshly and pulling Clark down to his knees on the floor beside him.

"There's a good Supes." Joker ran his gloved fingers through Clark's dark curls, his fingers tightening in his locks and pulling him closer, forcing Clark to rest his head on Joker's lap.

Bruce felt the bile rise up in stomach as Clark looked adoringly up at his nemesis, Clark had looked up at him like that before. Now, his heart burned with anger seeing Clark reduced to the Joker's puppet. At that moment in time there was nothing Bruce wanted to do more than punch that smug grin off his face. He took another moment to consider his approach.

"What's the matter, Joker, are you jealous?" Bruce said casually, his voice gravelly through the voice modulator, while Joker threw back his head in a fit of laughter.

"Jealous of who? This goody two-shoes?" The Joker's fingers twisted tightly in Clark's hair and forced Clark to look up again, before releasing his grip and allowing Clark's head to fall back into his lap, making retching noises as he did so. "That's a good one, Batsy."

Joker cackled again while Harley giggled by his side. "Silly, B-man."

"What else?" Bruce asked with casual confidence. "All this effort just to get me here," Bruce said evenly, ignoring the Joker's mocking tones. "It must have taken you weeks, months, to arrange this." Bruce knew at least how long Joker's plan had taken, after all he'd witnessed Clark's slow transformation first hand.

"And I didn't even come here for you, I came for him."

The Joker's laugh stopped abruptly and he leaned forward in his chair, his lips twisted into an ugly snarl.

"You think I don't know what's been going on between you?" Joker cackled bitterly, and Bruce's gut twisted, did the Joker know about their relationship? It wasn't impossible, Bruce would have to tread carefully now. "You spend all of your time with him and your silly team, always galavanting around trying to save the world."

Joker uncrossed his legs, his fingers tightening cruelly once again in Clark's hair, though Bruce knew it would cause him no pain, the intent was there. "But what about us down here, hm?" So he was jealous. Bruce would almost find it amusing if he wasn't holding Clark hostage and under control.

"I'd been looking at getting a new dog for a while now, and you know shelters they're so strict these days, won't rehome to criminals, you have to feed it, etcetera etcetera." Joker threw his head back with laughter, relaxing back into the chair. "So thanks to my Harley Girl here, I decided to get the biggest and baddest dog I could."

Joker twirled the whistle in his hand, which up close Bruce could see was a statue, an ancient artefact, but he didn't have time to discern its origin at present. "Took a while for him to brew, but now I've got the perfect pooch."

"You couldn't capture the Bat, so you've settled for Superman," Bruce scoffed, deliberately needling him. "Using Superman to do your dirty work for you, seems pretty boring." Though Bruce didn't know what power that statue held, it was the source of the Joker's control over Clark and he needed to destroy it.

"I'm disappointed in you, Joker. Where's the challenge? Have you given up on killing me yourself?"

Joker grinned widely, petting Clark on the head. "Stand." Joker commanded and Clark stood up, facing Bruce, no hint of recognition on his face as he waited, poised for his next command.

"Superman," Bruce said, moving into a more defensive stance when Clark didn't appear to have so much as a flicker of response to him.

"I'll be the one to kill you, but I have no issues with seeing you bloodied up a bit." The Joker shifted restlessly in his chair with excitement. "I hate to admit it, but things have gotten rather dull around here. Everything's become a bit too easy, with you jaunting off with your fellow costumed freaks, not interested in protecting poor old Gotham recently. Some might say you've been neglecting her." Joker smiled wickedly.

"I don't have time for this," Bruce deflected easily, keeping his focus on the artefact that the Joker still had clasped tightly in his grip, though he couldn't deny that the Joker's words irked him, if only because there was an element of truth to them. That would change, but for now, his focus was Clark.

"Oh, I think you're going to make time, Batsy," Joker said, amused. "Sic 'im, Boy."

Bruce had anticipated Superman's attack, but still had barely any time to react, as Clark flew at him red eyed and snarling, while Joker shrieked with laughter in the background. "Superman, it's me, stop." Bruce gritted, leaping backwards, barely escaping the full force of Clark's swing.

"Heel," Bruce said, in the vain hope that Clark might remember, might respond to his commands as he had done so before, but still Superman came for him. For the next few moments it was all he could do to avoid the ferocity and speed of Clark's attacks, before seizing the opportunity to escape on to an adjacent rooftop where a tense game of cat and mouse began.

Bruce was glad he had the foresight to put his new equipment into training beforehand, the lead mesh lining of his cape seemed to be successfully camouflaging him from Clark’s sight, allowing him to put some much needed distance between them so he could mount his attack.

A second to catch his breath was a second too long, he heard the sound of sniffing and a growl from behind. Plan B it was. Bruce grappled to the top of the chimney, and leapt as Superman demolished the structure with his fist, inches below his feet, disbursing three batarangs in quick succession straight at the Joker, the aim to destroy the artefact that held Clark under his control.

Bruce landed on the edge of the rooftop across from the Joker, Harley clapping and squealing with joy as two batarangs deflected from Clark's chest, now embedded in the concrete of the rooftop and the steel door of the rooftop exit. The third, crumpled within Clark's steel grip.

The twisted metal fell to the floor and Bruce held his stance as Clark moved towards him, throwing a token punch as Clark grabbed him by the throat and pushed him into the wall, cutting off his air supply. Bruce had him right where he wanted him, if he could just stay conscious for the few seconds he needed.

"Superman, don't," Bruce rasped as he reached for his pellet launcher, aiming it as close to Clark's face as he could. Black spots danced as edges of his vision as he began to lose consciousness. It was now or never.

Bruce fell forward as Clark stumbled backwards, releasing him from his grip, the rush of oxygen flooding his lungs leaving him reeling for a second.

"B, Batman?" Bruce looked up to see Clark, looking down at him in confusion, holding his hand out to Bruce, helping him up from the floor. "What's going on—" Clark's eyes screwed shut and Bruce had only a fraction of a second to see that Joker had blown into the statue again.

Immediately Clark lunged at him again and Bruce landed square on his back while Clark kneeled over him, one hand on his left shoulder pinning him down, the other he was pretty certain was dislocated.

Red eyes glowered down at him, and he realised with some relief he was still able to move his fingers on his left hand, it had been meant as a last resort, but if Bruce didn't use the kryptonite now, then he wasn't sure if he would be in any state to stop Clark.

Bruce fumbled desperately and awkwardly to access the compartment of his utility belt that held the kryptonite.

"What a good dog you make, Supes. Maybe I should get some more, a Lantern perhaps? I think I quite like the idea of Wonder Dog myself." Joker cackled from behind. "I digress though, and while I won't let anyone else kill you Batsy, I don't have anything against a little maiming, maybe a brand, a memory of our special evening together under this glorious sunset."

Bruce growled with frustration as the kryptonite compartment slipped shut beneath his fingers.

"Yes, that's it, Super Dog. Give Batsy Poo a little reminder of tonight, be gentle though, I need him to survive."

"Superman, no!" Bruce looked on in horror as Clark's heat vision intensified. He needed to get to the kryptonite, Bruce could take the pain, but Clark would never forgive himself if—

Clark's gaze now focused on his right flank, until Bruce successfully managed to deflect his attention, and parallel rivets scorched into the hard concrete a hair's breadth from his side.

Clark growled, pinning him harder, the pain shooting down Bruce's arm and forcing him to drop his hand away from his utility belt.

"Don't—" there was noise, loud noise, like someone screaming, it took Bruce a moment to realise it was him. The pain was unbearable, while the sickening smell of burning flesh invaded his nostrils. Bruce had trained himself to withstand almost every kind of pain imaginable, but the intensity of Clark's heat vision burning through his skin was like nothing he had ever experienced before.

"Superman," he rasped, trying fruitlessly to deflect his gaze, but Clark held him down harder still. He was vaguely aware of Joker hooting and hollering in the background, the sky was a gorgeous hue of gold and orange, he couldn't hear himself screaming anymore, maybe he wasn't. This wasn't a good sign, he was starting to lose consciousness, he needed to help Clark, but the pain was unbearable. Focus, Bruce, Focus. He willed himself to stay awake, grasping at Clark's cape with his right hand, a dislocated shoulder was nothing compared to the pain bearing to his side.

"Clark," he whispered desperately, so quietly that only Clark would be able to hear, a last ditch attempt at reaching him. He couldn't bear the thought of the impact this would have on Clark when he found out what he'd done. He'd never forgive himself.

A loud crack broke through the air, followed immediately by the strangled yells of Joker, and screams from Harley and several members of the Joker's crew. A gunshot, Bruce thought faintly.

"Sir, can you hear me?" Alfred. Bruce offered a rough noise of acknowledgement. "I've destroyed the contrivance. Has Superman returned to his senses?"

"B!" Someone was shaking him, he fought to open his eyes, he hadn't realised he had even closed them. "Oh god, B." Clark looked down at him frantically with horror.

"The Batwing…inside…awake." Bruce was fading in and out, but he loosely gripped Clark's hand in acknowledgement, Clark was back, he didn't have to worry anymore.

"I'm sorry," he breathed, finally letting himself fall into darkness, Clark's pained howl the last thing he heard as he slipped away.

****

“Alfred, he's waking up."

Bruce's eyelids fluttered open and he briefly caught sight of the blurred vision of Clark's face looking down at him, before his eyes closed again.

"Bruce, can you hear me?"

Bruce wanted to go back to sleep, but he fought the urge to slip back into the comforting slumber, though it took him a few minutes before he found the strength to keep his eyes open.

"Clark." As Bruce fully awakened, he became aware of the pain thrumming through his body, radiating from his right flank. The memories came back to him in flashes. Clark had been under the control of the Joker and scorched him with his heat vision.

"I've administered a combination of morphine and tramadol, Sir, to try and take the edge off the pain." Alfred appeared at his side, and gently placed his hand on Bruce's shoulder. "I'm glad you're awake, Sir."

"How long?" he rasped, his mouth was impossibly dry, he tried to lift his head, but that caused pain to shoot through his torso. Bruce let his head fall back onto the pillow.

"Several hours, Sir."

Bruce groaned both in pain and in frustration. "Where's Clark?"

"I'm here, Bruce." Clark's gentle voice came from his right, he couldn't see him, he was slipping back into darkness and this time he couldn't fight it.

"Bruce." Clark gripped his hand, clasping it tightly in a futile attempt to keep him awake. Bruce squeezed back as best he could, fighting through the pain that shot down his arm and into his hand.

“Best to let him sleep, Master Clark.” Alfred’s calm voice comforting Clark, the last thing he heard before he slipped away completely.

Chapter Text

When Bruce stirred some hours later, his fingers twitched instinctively before he even opened his eyes, feeling the soft sheets of his bed under his fingertips, which meant he must be stable enough to be moved from the cave.

Opening his eyes was easier this time, but the pain was more acute, which meant the painkillers were wearing off, that he could deal with. He’d rather be fully conscious, and in pain, than the alternative anyway.

"Good evening, Master Bruce. How are you feeling?"

"Like I've been beaten up," Bruce said, frowning as he got his bearings and realised that Clark was no longer with him. Alfred smiled at Bruce's response, obviously taking it as a positive sign.

"You have a dislocated shoulder, though Master Clark has since relocated it, shall we say," Alfred said evenly. "You have a fracture to your right forearm, internal bleeding and a moderate third degree burn on your right flank."

"Where's Clark?" Bruce asked impatiently as Alfred gave him the rundown of his injuries. There was a long pause as Alfred poured a cup of tea for Bruce and then himself.

"He's not here, Sir," Alfred said, carefully placing the tea on the nightstand beside Bruce.

"I can see that. I need to know if he's ok." Bruce winced as he tried to sit up, sharp pain shooting up his side and across his abdomen as he did.

"Master Kent is extremely distressed at the events that took place." Alfred moved to aid him, propping his back up with pillows. "He was by your side every second, beside himself, it was all I could do to get him to eat."

Alfred peeled back the bed covers evidently checking the wound and dressing. "When you woke up I could see the relief and joy on his face, and after you fell back to sleep, he advised me that now he knew you were alright he needed some time to reflect."

Bruce hissed as Alfred changed the dressing on his flank, the pain throbbed from deep inside, flaring sharply with every touch despite Alfred's effort to be gentle.

"I can confirm that Master Kent is not currently in Metropolis, neither is there any suggestion that he has visited the Fortress, and given the amount of distress he is in at the moment, I can only deduce that—"

"He's at the farm," Bruce interjected, breath catching in his throat as Alfred cleaned the wound and gently patted it dry. "I need to talk to him, tell him it's alright." Bruce picked up the cup of tea beside him, draining it of half its contents as Alfred secured the fresh dressing.

"Alfred, have the jet ready asap." Bruce swung his legs over the side of the bed, immediately regretting it as the burning pain shot through the side of his body and down his right leg. That was fine, he was used to working through the pain, he just needed to adapt.

"Sir, I think it would be best to honour Master Clark's wishes. Let him have some time to think and process what's happened."

"I need to speak to him, Alfred, reassure him," Bruce snapped.

"Ah yes, because you appearing at the farm in the middle of the night, staggering up to the door, looking like death, will be eminently reassuring for him," Alfred replied dryly as cleared the medical supplies from the bed. "Just let him have his space for now. You of all people should know how important that is."

Alfred placed his hand gently on Bruce's shoulder as he topped up Bruce's cup with more tea. "He will come back."

He knew Alfred was right, but that didn't stop the guilt twisting in his stomach, he knew exactly how Clark must be feeling right now. This is exactly what he had been so desperate to avoid.

"This is my fault, if only I had—"

"I was wondering how long it would take you to reach that conclusion," Alfred said wearily. "Neither of you are to blame for what happened, although I have the good sense to know that neither of you will believe that."

"I should have figured it out! How could I have not known that it was The Joker?" Bruce punched the bed next to him in anger, grunting with discomfort. "I must have missed something."

"Sir, you spent every second you had investigating the matter for months and—"

"And failed!" Bruce clenched his fists in anger, snapping in frustration. "Now Clark is in Kansas beating himself up over something that isn't his fault. Something that I should have prevented."

"You need to rest, if you injure yourself further, haring after Master Kent, it will only make things worse." Bruce hated to admit it but he knew Alfred was right, he was in no state to go after Clark, but that didn't stop the anger and frustration he felt over the situation.

"I need to call him at least," Bruce said, looking around for his phone.

"Very good, Sir, but let's get you back into bed first." Bruce grumbled, letting his displeasure be well known as he reluctantly allowed Alfred to help him back onto the bed.

"Sir." Alfred handed Bruce his phone, carefully plumping his pillows and making sure Bruce was as comfortable as he could be. "There's a lower dose of painkillers, just to take the edge off," Alfred said as he collected the various items, putting them on the tea tray as he readied to leave the room.

"Do try and get some sleep, things will look better in the morning," Alfred said kindly, placing a reassuring hand on Bruce’s shoulder once more before he departed the room.

Things did not look better in the morning, the afternoon or evening for that matter. Clark had not answered or responded to a single one of his calls.

The pain from his wounds increased over the next couple of days, as the true extent of his injuries really hit home. He managed, or rather insisted, that he would take his lunch in the kitchen, rather than have it brought to him in bed for another day. The effort had taken more out of him than he had anticipated, or would like to admit.

"He's still not answering my calls!" Bruce slammed his phone down on the table in frustration, picking up his spoon and began eating the soup Alfred had prepared for him.

"I need to go down there, I need to see how he is." Bruce began furiously texting again. 'I know you've been listening to my heartbeat to check on me. So just come home.' Then quickly after, 'Please.' Bruce paused as he closed the message screen, gaze lingering on the background wallpaper. Remembering fondly how he had found Clark sleeping face down in a grey hoodie, sprawled over the desk, report papers scattered underneath him with his glasses still on.

It wasn’t so unusual to find Clark sleeping like this since the transformation and he’d allowed himself this one little indulgence since it all started. Clark just looked so… adorable, the big overgrown puppy that he was. Bruce had managed to take the shot a second before Clark sensed him and woke up.

"Alfred, get the jet ready, I'm going down there."

"Very good, Sir, however you'll not be going anywhere. I'll take care of it." Bruce felt the anger flare up within him.

"You can't stop me going on my own jet, Alfred," Bruce said irritably.

"Sir, if you will, this situation requires a certain finesse. One I don't think you're well equipped to deal with in your current frame of mind."

"I don't blame him for not wanting to speak to me," Bruce said, voice fractured with hurt. "It's my fault, I—I just want to hear it from him and I'll let him go."

Alfred didn't bother to mask his sigh of exasperation as he began clearing the table.

"Did it ever occur to you, that in fact this is not all about you, and maybe the fact that it possibly hurts Master Kent too much to speak to you, because of what he's done?"

"It wasn't his fault."

"No, it wasn't," Alfred agreed. "And it wasn't yours either."

"Master Clark is distraught not only that he hurt you, but in the manner that he did so. Whether he meant to hurt you is irrelevant, the fact is, he did. That is what he's having to come to terms with."

Alfred pulled out the chair opposite Bruce, reaching across the table to clasp his wrist, and in spite of himself, Bruce welcomed the reassurance.

"I know how much you want to see him, to reassure him, but let me go and speak to him." Bruce opened his mouth to argue again, but stopped short, nodding his agreement with quiet acceptance.

"Whatever it takes, Alfred."

"Thank you, Master Bruce." Alfred patted Bruce's arm as he stood. "I know it probably doesn't feel like it now, but it'll work itself out in the end. He loves you, and that's what counts."

****

"Clark, honey, you have a visitor!" Ma called out from the back porch as he heaved another hay bale on the stack.

Clark had been working hard at the farm since he had arrived a few days ago, doing anything and everything, to try and keep his mind focused.

Trying to block the memory of Bruce's skin melting under his gaze, the smell— he choked as the image flashed through his mind again. After the curse was broken Clark had no memory of what happened, but not long after the nightmarish recollections came back to him in flashes.

Worse than that though, was what he had found when helping Alfred tend to Bruce's injuries in the medbay, he'd peeled back the dressing to find not only a wound, but a brand. A large S, roughly two inches, had been burned into his skin and Clark knew immediately how it had got there.

Nausea overwhelmed him as he recalled the second he regained his senses to see Bruce battered and broken beneath him. He'd almost vomited at the time, but had pushed past it to give Bruce the immediate assistance he needed.

"Clark Kent, where are your manners?" His mom's voice cut through his thoughts, bringing him back to the present. Clark still had his dog ears and tail, so it had to be someone that already knew about the curse. Clark had filtered out as much of the world as he could, as he tried to cope and so had missed the sound of the arrival.

"Sorry, I'm coming, Ma," Clark called back, quickly shifting another bale before exiting the barn and heading towards the house.

Bruce, it had to be Bruce. Clark was in turmoil, he wanted so badly to see him and apologise, yet he couldn't bear to look at injuries he'd inflicted upon him.

"Come on now," Martha said brightly as he approached the back door. "Leaving Mr. Pennyworth waiting after he's travelled all the way down here." Martha ushered him inside. "I thought I'd raised you better than that."

"Sorry, Ma, I got distracted."

Martha patted his shoulder in understanding as he walked through to the kitchen.

"Alfred!" Clark's ears perked and his tail wagged with excitement for the first time since before— "I'm so glad to see you." Clark hugged the older man briefly, and pulled out a chair for him, seating himself across from Alfred.

"I’m glad to see you too, Master Clark."

"How is he?”

"Brooding, frustrated at not being able to do as he pleases, and being generally insufferable. Suffice to say, Master Bruce is recovering well."

Despite everything, Clark couldn't help but chuckle affectionately at Alfred's dry humour. It was such a relief to hear that Bruce was back to his normal gruff self.

"That's really good to know, Alfred, I'm so glad he has you to look after him."

"I couldn't have done it without your help, Sir."

"You wouldn't have had to do it at all if it wasn't for me," Clark said bitterly, looking down at the tablecloth.

"He misses you— of course you know how Master Bruce is, he won't confess it out loud, but his restlessness and intolerance are uncharacteristic, even for him," Alfred said tentatively. "To say he's worried about you would be an understatement."

"I know I shouldn't have left, I just needed to get away and clear my head," Clark said despondently. "But then, I just thought of him lying there with that hole in his side that I put there—"

"Master Clark."

"I know you and Bruce will say it's not my fault because I was under his control, but I still did it." Clark was rambling, his distress pouring off of him in waves. "If you hadn't arrived and—" Clark inhaled sharply, knuckles going white as he dug his fingers into his thigh. "It's not just that, I—I—marked him." Clark closed his eyes, the memory of the revelation of the brand so fierce it threatened to steal the air from his lungs. "Carved it into his skin like," Clark inhaled sharply again. "Like an animal."

"Master Clark." Alfred's hand settled over his, grounding him. "We can't change what's happened, and you're right, neither of us blame you for what happened, but this isn't going to resolve the situation. It will only make things harder."

Clark nodded in agreement, but it still took him a moment or two before he lifted his head to look up at Alfred.

"I know, you're right. I shouldn't be here wallowing when Bruce needs me."

"That's not what I meant, Sir, you've been through something traumatic." Alfred patted Clark's hand reassuringly. "You forget I've been through this before with Master Bruce, over you no less."

"I know you didn't." Clark managed a small smile. "I was just pulling myself together." Clark sat up straighter, he needed to go back for Bruce, talk to him. He needed to be there for Bruce and help him recover, and maybe a little selfishly, he thought given the circumstances, he needed that from Bruce too.

"I'm sorry you had to come all the way down here just to talk sense into me." Clark smiled warmly at Alfred.

"Not at all, Master Clark." Alfred stood up from the table. "Whatever it takes to help resolve this.”

Clark moved swiftly to the other side of the table, pulling Alfred into a warm embrace. “Thanks, Alfred.”

Clark stepped back, tail wagging steadily behind him. “I’ll be back in a few hours, I still have a few things to finish up here for Ma—”

“Clark Kent, you’ll do no such thing. Go with Mr. Pennyworth now and check on Bruce.”

Clark spun around to see Martha in the doorway, arms folded with a knowing smile on her face. “But, Ma.”

“But nothing, I’ll be fine, you’ve done more than enough the last few days.” Clark opened his mouth to protest, but stopped when Martha arched her brow at him, pulling her best mom face, leaving him unable to argue. Instead he crossed the room to hug Martha, thanking her and promising he’d be back to help around the farm soon.

“Alright, you got it, but I’ll have to travel alone, I can’t be seen with these.” He smiled brightly, feeling like some of the weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

“Very good, Master Clark, I’ll see you there." Alfred bowed deeply to Martha thanking her for hospitality, and in turn gave her an open invitation to visit the Manor whenever she pleased, before exiting the house and making his way back to the car.

“Alfred,” Clark called out from the steps, before he could leave.

“Yes, Master Kent?”

“Thank you, for saving him…from me,” Clark said sincerely.

“Pish posh,” Alfred replied, sounding the closest that Clark had ever heard to being offended. “I wasn’t saving him from you, I was saving you both from that lunatic. A thorn in Master Bruce’s side for so long, I’ve been itching to take a good shot at him for years now.” Alfred sniffed in distaste, regarding Clark with amusement as he saw the shock on his face.

“You know, Master Bruce and I often have different opinions on handling things, but the bottom line is, no one messes with my son and son-in-law.”

Son-in-law? Alfred regarded him as his son-in-law? Clark felt like his heart was about to burst, he was speechless. Alfred smiled knowingly at him, tapping his nose twice, indicating this conversation would be kept between the two of them.

“Now if you don’t mind, I need to get home before the stew boils dry.” Alfred waved to Clark as he entered the car, leaving Clark standing dumbstruck on the steps.

****

“You’ve been hovering up there for ages, now so you can put us both out of our misery and get down here now,” Bruce said evenly looking up at the bedroom ceiling, speaking as if he was addressing someone in the room, not floating a couple of miles above the house. Bruce’s intuition coupled with the Manor’s security system had detected Clark’s presence and while Bruce had initially been understanding of his hesitancy, his patience on the matter had reached its end.

“You still have your ears.” Bruce said, as Clark stepped out of the shadows from the balcony walked towards the bed.

"How do you feel?" Clark asked, taking his seat next to the bed where he had spent several painfully long hours awake, waiting desperately for Bruce to wake up.

"You didn't call. You didn't text. Nothing." Bruce replied bitterly.

"Bruce, I—I didn’t know what to say." Clark looked down at him with a pained expression, one that Bruce couldn't find the strength to deal with right now, So instead he pressed on.

"So the statue, whistle, wasn't destroyed," Bruce said, as he looked up at Clark who looked exactly the same as he had before the fight, with all his canine features intact.

"It was," Clark said, ears flattened sadly to his head as he recounted the events. "Alfred shot it straight out of the Joker's hand, it was smashed to pieces." The faint memory of Alfred's voice as he was fading in and out of consciousness echoed in his mind, while Clark fidgeted in the chair, clearly uncomfortable. "It was a miracle he didn't kill him to be honest, and I don't think he would have cared if he had, considering the circumstances."

Bruce grunted in acknowledgement, Alfred didn't necessarily subscribe to Bruce's own view on killing.

"The second he did, I regained my senses and I saw what I'd done, I—" Bruce clutched at Clark’s hand but he ripped it away.

"I heard you," Bruce said, reaching out to touch him again, the sound of Clark's heartbreaking howl replayed in his mind. "I'm sorry, Clark."

"Sorry? Why are you apologising, after what I did?"

'That wasn't you."

"Don't make excuses for me, Bruce. I can't—"

“Listen to me.” Bruce reached out and took Clark’s hand, not letting him pull away this time. “It’s a horrible feeling, isn’t it, realising what you could have done if you weren’t stopped.” Bruce squeezed Clark’s hand but he still refused to look up at Bruce. “You attacked me, you gave me these injuries, yes, and there is nothing that I can do to take that feeling away from you.”

Bruce sighed, keeping his grip tight on Clark’s hand. “I don’t blame you, but I know from experience that doesn’t make things better, in fact it only makes things worse. At least you didn’t know what you were doing when you attacked me. I knew exactly what I was doing when I tried to kill you.”

“Bruce, don’t.” Clark’s head snapped up, and in that moment Bruce couldn’t be sure what was more painful, the throbbing wound in his side, or the hurt and torment etched across Clark’s face.

“You kept telling me you forgave me and it was alright, not to keep dwelling on it, but it’s not that easy. You still have to live with what you did. What you tried to do, and what could have happened.” Bruce shifted in the bed, trying in vain to stifle a groan of pain as he did so.

“B—”

“I want you to know that I understand, and it’s not your fault, but it will get easier with time.” Bruce sighed as he finally managed to relax into a more comfortable position. “Besides, if we let this cause problems between us, Joker wins and you understand I can’t let that happen.” Bruce patted the bed next to him. “So get over here.” He tugged Clark’s hand towards him, pleased when Clark allowed himself to be pulled closer and eventually onto the bed.

“Actually, there is something you can do to make things up to me,” Bruce said, stopping Clark who was carefully straddling him on his way over to the other side of the bed, clearly conscious of not touching Bruce, in case he caused him any pain.

“Anything,” he replied earnestly as he looked down at Bruce.

“Good,” Bruce said, awkwardly raising his better hand to the side of Clark’s face, his thumb stroking against his cheek. “You can start by kissing me better,” Bruce said, affecting a decidedly Brucie tone, smiling suggestively in an effort to try and lighten the mood. The hurt and darkness lifted from Clark’s face as he closed the distance between them, capturing his lips in a long passionate kiss.

Bruce relaxed into the kiss, pulling Clark closer as best he could, with Clark being almost too delicate with him as he lay across him as they kissed, until despite the pain Bruce realised he needed more and managed a relatively substantial thrust into Clark’s thigh as they parted for air.

“No.” Clark let out a small groan of frustration, gazing down at him, though Bruce could tell from the lust in his eyes that Clark was equally interested.

“No?” Bruce questioned, raising his brows clearly unimpressed with Clark’s response.

“No, I won’t. Not while you’re like this.”

“Cl—” Bruce tried to interject.

“Not while you’re like this. I want to fuck you hard, I want you to feel with every single thrust how much you mean to me.” The heat in Clark’s eyes was doing Bruce no favours at all. “And I need you to return the favour.”

“Alright, deal, but in the meantime we could—”

“No.” There was a pause, and Clark must have taken pity on him as he dipped down to kiss Bruce as he reached down, carefully removing Bruce’s boxers and fumbling with the fly of his jeans before taking both their cocks in hand, bringing them both off with practised ease.

Bruce let himself sink back down into his pillow as Clark rolled off to his side, getting into bed with him, still half clothed..

“Get some sleep,” Clark ordered, carefully lying alongside him as he settled down for the night. Bruce felt the urge to make a comment about Clark leaving him with blue balls on top of his other injuries, but decided against it.

Slowly Bruce slid down the bed, and once he was in position Clark’s arm tentatively curled around his chest.

“Don’t worry, I’ll still be here when you wake up this time."

Chapter Text

After confirming the coast was clear with Alfred, Clark entered the Manor and immediately raced upstairs to the bedroom; he had got off work earlier that day so that he could make arrangements for Bruce’s birthday surprise.

Alfred knew he was planning something, though not aware of the finer details, thankfully. Clark had made a deal with Dick to cover patrol for the weekend, and had also arranged for Alfred to prepare dinner, and ensured he was given the evening off.

Clark buzzed with nervous excitement as he placed the items he had bought onto the bed. There were two cuffs and a leash, blue, but he hadn’t managed to find the exact shade of blue to match his collar. He was still in awe of how Bruce had managed to match the colour of his collar to the exact shade of his suit, it even had a slight metallic tint to it, but it wasn’t really surprising that Bruce had gone to such lengths to make sure it was perfect.

He tentatively looked at the muzzle that the overly friendly lady in the store had pushed on him, she had something about puppy play, and he cluelessly smiled awkwardly and nodded. Clark had contemplated looking it up out of curiosity, but the last thing he needed was Bruce finding that in his Internet history. Clark wasn't sure about it, and he didn't know if it was something Bruce would be into, but he threw it on the bed anyway. Maybe he could return it at some point.

Finally Clark removed his collar from the back of his bottom drawer where he had been secretly hiding it. He had told Bruce that he had thrown it out as it wasn’t needed anymore, but something had compelled him to keep a hold of it, even if it was just to be a reminder of the weird time he had turned into a dog. At first… Then, Clark had decided to secretly get in contact with Zatanna to see if there was any way of restoring his ears and tail, if only temporarily, and she had finally gotten back in touch with him to say she could enchant an object with a similar spell.

It had been a little awkward at first, trying to explain his reasoning to her, and he was reassured that he would only be affected when actually wearing the collar. Clark actually missed his ears and tail at times, they had become such a normal part of him, and so he was excited at the chance to have them back, especially just in time for Bruce’s birthday.

Clark turned the collar over in his hands, a rush of heat pouring over him as he remembered times when he had previously worn the collar with Bruce. Its use hadn’t always been sexual in nature, it has been comforting, an anchor for him, but when it had…. Clark swallowed as the memories flashed through his mind, and he turned the collar once more until he was looking down at the immaculately shiny silver disc with the engraved bat symbol.

Oh darn it, this wasn’t helpful. He didn’t need to be getting excited this early on. He placed the collar on his pillow, glancing back at it with a sudden pang of doubt. Bruce wasn’t keen on dogs and he had found Clark hard to deal with at times during his transformation, but comments made since—especially when he voiced his disappointment that he wouldn’t get to live out his sexy werewolf fantasy at Halloween, though Clark was pretty sure he was joking—made him think that maybe he had warmed to them more than he had let on.

Clark remembered when his behaviour was almost back to normal just before his ears disappeared and Bruce had asked him, not as casually as he might have hoped, where he was when he had arrived home and Clark had not been there to greet him as had become the norm.

Clark saw through the act immediately, shrugged his shoulders, and replied that he hadn’t realised Bruce had come home. Secretly though, he'd been pleased by Bruce's inadvertent admission. He checked the time, just under an hour before Bruce was due home, enough time to take a shower and get spruced up.

Clark exited the bathroom and quickly got dressed, seeking out a pair of jeans he knew he would be comfortable in later on with his tail and a new shirt he had picked up on the way.

He had been in two minds about whether or not to put the collar on before Bruce came home, but then decided he had better go ahead and put it on now in case he lost his nerve later on.

God, he couldn’t wait to smell Bruce again. Well technically he could smell him now, but it was different with his canine powers.. Upon putting the collar on it only took a couple of seconds for him to become overwhelmed by the scent of Bruce that encompassed the room, and Clark felt the familiar buzz of excitement and anticipation for Bruce to get home. All his doubts and worries disappeared as he focused solely on Bruce’s arrival.

Every minute felt like an hour until he heard the car pull up outside the Manor. Clark began pacing the room, knowing he should try and stay calm, but he was just so excited to see Bruce.

****

"What the–" Bruce had barely stepped through the door when Clark ambushed him, babbling a mixture of excited greetings, and apologies as he drew Bruce into a tight hug, and pressed his face into his throat.

It was only as Clark inhaled deeply below his ear that he was able to make sense of what was going on. This was typical of Clark's canine behaviour, and sure enough, there was Clark's tail wagging a mile a minute.

"Clark, calm down, let me breathe."

"Sorry! I tried not to, but it's been so long."

"It's fine," Bruce said, but as Clark stepped back, he saw the first few buttons of Clark's shirt were open, revealing the bespoke collar Bruce had made for him.

Clark looked like sex on legs, in what appeared to be a new shirt and of course the deep metallic blue of the collar sitting comfortably at the base of his neck.

This couldn't be a coincidence.

Bruce swallowed as the memories of the last time he saw Clark wearing the collar flashed through his mind, completely overwhelmed.

"How?"

"Zatanna."

"Right." Bruce turned and headed towards the kitchen, pausing to pet Clark between the ears, when he saw the look of concern on his face. Not able to vocalise his thoughts, he just needed to process. He did not do well with surprises.

However, though he wouldn't let on right away, he was secretly pleased by this development. He was loath to admit it, but he'd realised when Clark had recovered that he had grown used to Clark's excited greetings when he returned home, and the general comfort and reassurance he gave to Bruce, among other things…

"Uhh so, I gave Alfred the weekend off, but he made dinner for us– for you, a birthday dinner." Clark was rambling, he was nervous, as he trailed along "If you like, I can take this off for now."

"Don't." Bruce took hold of Clark's hand as he reached for the fastening on his collar. "It just took me off guard, that's all."

"Dick's covering patrol," Clark blurted as he allowed Bruce to reassure him. "I promised him birthday cake."

As they entered the kitchen, Bruce noted the perfectly decorated cake and the envelope with this name on. Noting how Clark cautiously distanced himself as he opened it. Happy Birthday you old bat. Bruce huffed in amusement at the card, despite himself.

"Very good, I can't help but wonder what was at stake if my reaction hadn't been so favourable."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Clark was one of the worst liars Bruce had ever met.

"Is that why you've suddenly migrated to the other end of the room?"

"I want to know what the payout for Alfred or Dick was if I wasn't impressed?"

"It wasn't like that, I knew you'd see the funny side!" Clark said a little too brightly. "Anyway let's eat, I want to give you your present." Clark deflected expertly as he got to plating up the dinner and pouring the drinks.

****

“So I remembered what you said about the werewolf thing, but I wasn’t sure if you were being serious or not.” Clark fidgeted anxiously in front of the bed, obviously hiding something, while his tail wagged cautiously behind him. “So I got these, but if you’re not into it, it’s fine,” Clark blurted, while Bruce lost patience and stalked up to the bed to see what he was guarding.

The sight of the leash, cuffs and other interesting items on the bed simultaneously had a hundred thoughts and images racing though his mind, yet his mind went blank as he took a second to process. Instantly turned on, and hard as hell, he turned to face Clark.

“You thought I’d want this?” Bruce asked a little harsher than he had intended as he squared up to Clark. “Don’t worry, just forget it—” Bruce surged forward, crushing his lips against Clark's, silencing him. He pressed his tongue into Clark's mouth, dominating and passionate, pulling Clark close.

Bruce pulled away for a few seconds, catching his breath as he grasped the front of Clark's shirt, ripping it open in one swift motion. Clark's answering growl ignited something deep with anything as Clark kissed him again, his own shirt now reduced to scraps as they tumbled onto the bed, and quickly divulged themselves of their remaining clothing.

"That was a new shirt," Clark said, but any effort to appear cross was undermined by the heat in his eyes as he looked up at Bruce, panting softly. Bruce hesitated for a moment, noticing how Clark’s gaze lingered on the scar that still remained just above his hip. Bruce exhaled deeply as Clark traced the ‘S’ of his brand, his featherlight touch warming his skin. The relief he felt wasn’t for him, Clark had been barely able to look at the scar even after all this time without flinching, the fact that he was now able to touch it reassured Bruce that Clark was slowly coming to terms with what happened.

"Wait, while I get the lube," Bruce said, taking Clark’s hand in his, tenderly kissing the fingertips that had so delicately traced his scar, before rolling off the bed.

"But I can—"

"Stay," Bruce said, stopping Clark in his tracks as he entered the ensuite to retrieve the lubricant, the memory of why it was no longer in the nightstand, abruptly cut short as he walked into the wall of Clark’s chest.

"I told you to stay," Bruce said, waiting for an explanation.

"But you smell so good," Clark replied, his eyes fluttering shut, sniffing the air as if to prove his point.

"Lacking in obedience." Bruce smirked back. "You know I never wanted a dog before…" Bruce picked up the leash and clipped it to the metal ring on Clark's collar, and tugged it gently, pulling Clark flush against him. "But now I'm beginning to reconsider."

"I'm not a dog," Clark rasped, placing his hands carefully on Bruce's hips, his nostrils flaring with arousal as he gazed back at Bruce.

"Aren't you?" Bruce said instinctively, a flippant, disparaging comment.

"No," Clark replied. "I'm something else." Clark dropped to his knees in front of him, and nuzzled at his balls, forcing a shuddered breath from Bruce's lips as Clark suddenly sucked one of his balls into his mouth.

Bruce gripped Clark's shoulders for support as Clark alternated between the two, rolling them over his tongue, before pulling away. Bruce knew this wouldn't last long for either of them, but that wasn't what this was about. This was about getting off, the primal need and want for each other, where nothing else mattered, no matter what the cause.

Clark licked up the base of his cock, briefly swirling his tongue around the head before swallowing Bruce completely, moaning deep and long as his nose pressed into Bruce's crotch. Bruce jerked his hips in response to the intense vibrations travelling through his cock, taking every inch of his willpower not to cum that second.

Bruce moved his hand to the back of Clark's head, pressing his face even harder into his crotch, met with an encouraging squeeze of his ass. Bruce knew exactly what Clark wanted, he tightened his grip in Clark’s hair and thrust forward sharply, a deep groan rumbled in his throat as Clark’s throat constricted around him in pleasure as he fucked into his mouth. He continued the brutal pace for a few minutes, unable to stop. “Clark, hold on.” Bruce tried to halt the motion of his hips but Clark’s strong hands wouldn’t allow it. The coiling fire burning low in his abdomen threatened to explode. He needed to stop. “Clark!” No good, he couldn’t stop, he was going to–

“Clark, stop!” Bruce snapped loudly as he felt the heat and pleasure reaching its peak, his fingers digging into the impenetrable skin of Clark’s shoulder as his orgasm began to break– and then it stopped. Bruce inhaled sharply, Clark’s hands on hips the only thing preventing his legs giving way while Clark pulled back, tilting his head curiously as he looked up at Bruce. "I didn't want to finish this early on," Bruce explained through ragged breaths, glad for Clark was there to hold him up as he came back from the brink.

"Bed." Bruce tossed the lube in his hand in the air and caught it again as Clark immediately climbed onto the bed. "No," Bruce sighed, as Clark presented his perfectly sculpted ass to him. "You know we can't do it like that, your tail gets in the way."

"I don’t care, I just want you to fuck me."

"I had something else in mind." Bruce walked over to join Clark on the bed, not that it wasn’t an extremely attractive proposition, he considered as he admired the view. "Fetch," Bruce threw the lube high in the air, climbing onto the bed as Clark's hand reflexively shot out to catch the bottle.

"But–" Clark complained but Bruce ignored him, instead taking hold of the leash, wrapping it around his hand, laying back on the bed and making himself comfortable, but still leaving Clark with plenty of slack.

“Do I need to remind you just whose birthday it is?” Bruce tugged the leash sharply, catching Clark off balance and causing him to fall forward and put his hands out to brace himself over Bruce. A stilted noise caught in his throat as Clark licked his lips looking hungrily down at him.

"Gorgeous." Bruce captured Clark's jaw firmly between his thumb and forefingers, tilting his face to the side as he openly admired him. Clark's ears were perked forward, alert, while his tail wagged slowly behind him, his breath coming in soft pants, every inch of Clark was focused on him and Bruce let himself bask in the undivided attention.

"I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss this sometimes." Bruce smoothed his thumb along Clark's bottom lip in awe of his gorgeous boyfriend. "My perfect pedigree pup."

Bruce slid his free hand along Clark's back, until he reached the patch of skin just above the base of his tail, and began massaging the area, relishing in the growl that reverberated through Clark and into the kiss at the sensation. Satisfied when Clark instinctively thrust his hips as a result, breaking the kiss, leaving them both panting.

“I would say you’re the only gift I need, however–” Bruce reached down, teasingly tugging at Clark’s cock, giving his best Brucie delivery. “There’s something else I’m interested in receiving.” A cool rush of air swept over him as Clark immediately pulled away from Bruce, sitting back between his legs. In one smooth motion, Clark spread Bruce’s legs wide, his fingers already slick with lube as he started impatiently prepping Bruce.

“Steady,” Bruce gasped as Clark probed a little too harshly in his excitement. Bruce could see Clark losing himself in the fog of lust and need, his cock slicked and pressing at his hole, unable to wait any longer

"Stay," Bruce commanded, breathless, needing a second to adjust. "Stay." Bruce tugged the leash as Clark gave a short shallow thrust, losing himself to instinct. Exactly what Bruce wanted.

"Stunning," he murmured as he gazed up at the sight in front of him, freeing his hands to place them on Clark's hips, and slid them up the strong muscle of his torso to his chest. Clark's canine features suited him so well, he was just as gorgeous with them as without. Bruce couldn't imagine a version of Clark that wouldn't be attractive to him.

Clark stared down at him, his eyes dark with lust, still coherent enough to be able to follow Bruce’s commands. Just. Clark was trembling with need now, obviously fighting the urge to give in and fuck Bruce in favour of following his orders.

Bruce's hands dropped back down beside him, taking hold of the leash again in one hand, ready. More than ready.

"Good boy." Clark whined deep in his throat, his hips jerking in an aborted thrust, causing Bruce to take pity on him. He didn't know how long he would last like this, but he was going to enjoy every second of it. "Okay."

"Bruce."

Bruce wrapped his legs around Clark, his cock jerking at the need in Clark's voice as he spoke his name in a strange mixture of a howl and whine, as he began to pound into him, unable to hold on any longer.

"Yes, Clark." Bruce arched off the bed as Clark rutted into him, eyes glazed with lust as he stared down at Bruce. It wouldn't be long now, wouldn't take much. "Clark, here." Bruce moved his free hand to the crook of his neck.

"Mark me," Bruce demanded, pulling the leash sharply in frustration when Clark didn’t immediately obey him.

"Bruce," Clark groaned into the side of his throat, sniffed deeply, his thrusting erratic.

"Clark!" Bruce gripped at Clark's back as he came, Clark's sharp teeth biting into the base of his neck, the leash snapped with the final tug, legs squeezing around Clark coating his stomach in thick splatters of cum.

Panting heavily, Bruce had no choice but to hold on as Clark continued to pound into him. "Yes, that's it, good boy." Clark growled deep in his ear, hips jerking as he came, cock pulsing deep inside Bruce.

"Mine," Clark rasped below his ear, sending a spark of pleasure to his spent cock. If only he was a few years younger, he'd be putting this pup to work again.

"Yes," Bruce whispered almost silently, but knowing Clark would hear with no uncertainty. As if there were any other possibility now.

"That was amazing," Bruce said gently, brushing the damp strands of hair from Clark’s flushed face, while Clark grunted incoherently as he tenderly pulled out and flopped onto his back next to him.

"Happy Birthday," Clark said, while Bruce gingerly rolled on to his side, detaching what was left of the leash and tossing it onto the floor by the bed, next gently tracing the skin along the base of Clark's collar, until he found the buckle.

"No." Clark's hand covered his preventing him from releasing the collar. "Unless you want me to take it off, if you're done." Clark regarded him with his brilliant blue eyes, and not for the first time Bruce was taken aback by the pure love and trust this man had in him. Even when he had given so little in return.

"Done?" Bruce wasn't sure if Clark meant with sex or with him being a dog altogether, either way it was irrelevant. "Of course not, I just thought it might have been a bit overwhelming."

"I'm fine, in fact, it's nice being able to be like this with you now, knowing it's in our control."

"When does the spell wear off?" Bruce asked, absently running his fingers over the smooth leather of Clark's collar.

"When I take it off."

"And then that's it?"

"No." Clark smiled up at him mischievously.

"As long as I have the collar on, I'll be like this, and when I take it off, I'll be back to normal. Like I said, full control."

"And I thought the sex was my birthday present."

"Well it was, I wasn't entirely sure how thrilled you'd be to see me like this." Clark rubbed the back of his ear awkwardly. "This is definitely a bonus. It feels like a part of me now, even though it's not practical it's a good release for me," Clark said truthfully.

"For both of us it would seem."

"We should get cleaned up," Clark said, disappearing and reappearing in a blink next to Bruce at the side of the bed, and holding his hand out for Bruce, pulling him to his feet.

“So I gotta ask," Clark said as they wandered into the bathroom. "Were you kidding about the sexy wolf thing, and I accidentally got this right, or–”

Bruce made a strangled noise in his throat at the image that popped into his mind.

"Clark, don't." Bruce pressed his palm to his face. "I wasn’t being entirely serious, but I have to admit I was–more than a little disappointed when the effects wore off just before Halloween.” Bruce shrugged his shoulders, stretching out his muscles as he joined Clark by the shower. “And of course it would have been convenient for the League fairytale theme,” Bruce said casually, in a poor effort to downplay his interest.

“Right, “ Clark replied, smiling smugly, “Because you’re always on the pulse of League social events.” Clark wasn’t fooled for one second and it annoyed him no end. “So were you planning on being Little Red Riding Hood with the big bad wolf?” Clark smiled wickedly, obviously enjoying trying to get a rise out of him. “Because I have something for that, just the right shade of red.”

“Kind of you to offer,” Bruce replied sarcastically, “but I was thinking more of the wolf and the huntsman—"

"Now that would be hot," Clark cut in, voice heavy as his tail wagged with interest. "We could definitely make that work–another pursuit drill?" Clark suggested, practically buzzing with excitement as he turned the shower on, while Bruce grunted noncommittally in reply as he considered it.

"I suppose it might give us an excuse to use the other items you bought."

Clark's excitement visibly grew, licking his lips, his erection already hard and throbbing between his legs as he advanced on Bruce.

"I was thinking of returning those, but, uh…"

"Don't you dare," Bruce replied, pressing his hand to Clark's chest, keeping him at bay, the heat and need plainly etched across Clark's face as he approached him. "You're celebrating my birthday, but here am I useless—that old saying springs to mind, the spirit is willing but flesh is…" Bruce trailed off, anger and frustration evident in his voice.

"If I was a few years younger I'd—"

"I don't care about that." Clark delicately removed Bruce's hand from his chest, closing the distance between them. "I wouldn't change a thing about you, and at risk of inflating your considerable ego, you're the best lay I've ever had."

"Not that you've got much to compare to," Bruce muttered under his breath.

"I'm sorry, what was that, Mr. Wayne?" Clark teased, smiling affectionately at him as he pulled him close, and for the millionth time since he had met Clark, Bruce ran through a hundred different calculations and reasons and still could not figure out how he had managed to end up here, like this.

"Nothing." Bruce grumbled again, turning to the shower, but Clark stopped him with gentle pressure on his waist, his fingers lifting Bruce's chin up to meet his eyes before leaning in to kiss him.

"Good."