Troubled He was
“Kal-El!”
The scream fell on the deaf ears. Bruce didn’t have the mental capacity to change to Superman’s civilian name. His screaming mind supplied nothing useful to this situation, except, screaming. He screamed until everything died in his throat. Not like that anyone was going to hear him.
How was this supposed to feel like being claimed and marked? It’s more like tearing his throat open if Bruce didn’t know better. Instinctively he thrust and fought back, but Superman was firmly glued to him there was no way Bruce could push him off.
The sharp and rusted smell hit Bruce like a freight train. He smelled blood. Relaxing and letting Kal take whatever he wanted was easier said than done. The truth was, Bruce never quit fighting and Superman won’t let go of his throat. The blood called for a primitive repulse and the pain simply made everything worse. When there were teeth sunk deep down in his throat, some part of his brain was fried and wouldn't stop screaming at him.
The ringing in his ears suddenly intensified. Bruce couldn’t hear anything except his labored breath and racing heart.
He was not going to die. Bruce tried to remind himself. It’s not a life or death situation. It’s just a goddamned claim mark and it wouldn’t do anything to him except giving him a stupid bite scar. Stop screaming like you’re dying!
Kal was putting all his weight on Bruce to hold him down and biting hard to rip flesh. He only let go of the bite when Bruce ran off the strength to struggle. When he seemed to be submissive to his fate.
Kal would get tired. Bruce swallowed, hard. His mouth was dry like sandpaper. Putting yourself together and it would pass.
Superman drew back to scent him again. Didn’t matter how hard Kal bit him, the artificial Omega scents weren’t going to change one bit. The scents were still overpowering, strong and care-freely flowing in the air, slightly mingled with Alpha’s rut scent but that’s about it.
The confusion was the first meaningful expression surging on his current stoic face. The outcome for sure contradicted what his instincts claimed.
To fix the error, Kal bit him again.
The pain came back with full intensity. There was no way to tolerate it. Why Ra’s never included biting as the part of torture program? What’s wrong with him? Because right now Bruce felt it’s the most efficient method he could think of now to elicit pain. He would never be ready for it. Clawing and kicking, he automatically fighted back. He howled like a cornered injured animal.
It didn’t matter. Kal might think it’s the way he liked it, because he smelled like it. The Omega scent wouldn't change a damn!
The kicking and fighting added spice for the fun. Certainly for a feral Kryptonian. It warred with Kal’s primary instinct for wanting a submissive mate but he was generous to allow a bit of playfight before they got into business.
The patience ran off quickly though. Between the pain and scream, Bruce was aware how Superman’s large hand searched down to his crotch and peeled the rest layers away.
Thick fingers fiddled with half-hardened cock and balls for a while - he wasn’t even aware when he got hard, but that must be adrenaline - and then moved down, slipping through the dry folds and touching his hole. There was no slick and it hurt like hell when Kal determined to test its bearing.
He was not an Omega and he doubted even if he was, would he feel anything under this circumstance?
The answer was probably yes. The claim bite was supposed to prepare Omega for intercourse, may it be willing or not.
But he was not an Omega.
When Bruce hit puberty, he instinctively knew that he would never present to be one. His secondary sex characteristics development subtly deviated from the expectation of a male Omega. He knew how to read signs and there were also annual health checks. Alfred never let him slip away from those. His hormone levels, after his parents’ death, dropped and were never able to hit the lowest mark of presenting as a Omega.
The doctors said it’s a rare but not unheard symptom under stress and of traumas, suggesting it’s actually a way his body tries to preserve itself in an extreme environment. It benefited him in a biological sense.
Oh that’s funny. A younger Bruce would think. He was the richest orphan in the world, with access to almost everything in the world with a snap of his fingers. He never thought he was living in a harsh environment. The Manor was huge for a single child. Alfred never truly denied him essential things and Bruce was well aware that he could be a handful when he was upset.
He was just angry, in Bruce’s opinion, for the cruel fate of taking his parents away, for the police never catching the culprit, for some random man who wanted easy money and gunned down his parents like animals and cowardly run away, for himself freezing at the spot and doing nothing.
Knowing he would never present as an Omega actually relieved him when Bruce was an angry teen. Finally he could let go of all that stupid social expectations and morals and unspoken rules to be something, himself wasn’t even sure at that time.
He changed from the quiet and reclusive child after his parents’ death to a real menace. Always getting into troubles and being called to the principles. Alfred needed to transfer him to a handful of different schools and skipped his grades a couple of times because he deemed with heavier school work or stricter school rules would tire him out, a silly thought. It never worked.
Bruce was too smart for his own good.
The rage and unfairness kept boiling deep down in Bruce and no amount of therapy would take it away. In return, he picked up the methods those therapists tried to apply on him. He lied to get away, and only got sent back next time he was deep in trouble.
In the end, he ran away, from his own home, from Alfred, from Gotham - likely instinctively knew one day his rage and self-hatred would do more harm than good to not only himself, but also his loved ones around him; self preservation finally kicked in it seemed - to learn who he really wanted to be and understand this cold and unfair world, until he returned as Batman and wielded his rage as a weapon, seeking vengeance and justice not for himself, but for the other innocent.
Bruce was no stranger to sex thanks to his playboy persona, but he was rarely on the receiving end of it. He didn’t like his partner touching his vagina. It made him sad, somehow, instead of feeling pleasure.
It’s much later when he realized what’s behind the rage and unfairness he always felt back in those days. There was hidden fear. He thought he got over the part of being pained, hurt, pointed by a gun, loneliness and all sorts of stuff. But there was still a subtle kind of fear that remained unearthed, buried so deep down under his teenage years that he couldn’t even look it in the eyes.
But somehow he always knew. He was supposed to know, because it was the first thought across his mind when he knew he was not going to be what he’s supposed to be. May it not be fear, but shame. It was supposed to be so easy, and he was born with it. He was ashamed that he failed to become the perfect child his parents wished to have. He couldn’t never live up to their expectations. What his mother expected.
Their expectations were not even meant to be hard to achieve. It’s supposed to come to him, rather than the other way around.
Being a fine, lovely, happy Omega.
Oh, Martha would never be able to be there to see what he grew up to, something even Bruce himself would often have a hard time pinpointing. Just anything but what she could ever imagine. Even Alfred stopped providing answers at some point of time.
Now it’s the exact moment Kal tried to put him in his place, frankly, which he had troubles to fill in.
Revisiting his past was so pathetic, but in truth any distraction was overly welcomed at this moment. Bruce didn’t know what his brain wanted to achieve here, but memories flashing back like chain reaction and the sorrow crept in.
Currently his traitorous mind would only focus on how large and hot Kal’s fingers felt when probed his tight cunt. Kal tried to squeeze two fingers in and the tight ring of muscle won’t let him. It hurt. Kal couldn’t comprehend what’s happening and he growled in frustration, pushing out a more commanding rutting scent.
Bruce hopelessly squirmed under him and very much would like to snap back, if there is anything that would like to come out from his back of throat but the pathetic whines.
There was a little bottle of lubrication in his belt. Bruce suddenly remembered. It won’t be enough but better than nothing. End up dying due to blood loss or bruised internal organs because an inhuman large dick won’t fit inside his cunt was too mortifying.
His fingers twisted and scratched the ground to try to reach for it. But Superman ripped off his utility belt and threw it out of Bruce’s reach. He came back to desperately push Superman to buy some leeway.
“Please. Just move a bit. Kal--”
Bruce didn’t dare to think what would happen if Kal decided to force himself on him. He could feel the huge bulge squeezed between them, leaving very little to imagination. The trapped alien cock against his tight was pulsating and radiating heat. Bruce didn’t need Kal to take it out to know it won’t fit.
It never fitted.
The most recent thing in years had ever been to his cunt was his fingers, and that’s only fucking two of them!
For some miracle, Kal moved. Bruce flipped and lunged to grab his broken belt but only got caught by Kal in between. Again. Kal forced him down and planted his face on the ground, then lifted his waist high, ass in the air. Kal planted himself firmly in between Bruce’s kicking legs. Another large hand squeezed Bruce’s tight and pried it to open further.
Bruce couldn’t see what Kal was doing now and he felt the warm breath fall upon his sensitive skin of groin.
Hot wet tongue spread open his fold and overlapped on the naked flesh. Kal licked him.
Bruce yelped. His entire body was seized by the raw feeling.
Fucking with Superman was one thing. A fuck or death scenario, Bruce got that part. But having Superman eating him out was totally another level.
It’s too lewd, filthy and intimate.
Suddenly getting torn into halves and dying of blood loss sounded better than this.
Kal ignored all the protest of Bruce and continued what he deemed to be necessary. What a considerate lover. He licked the pink flesh thoroughly with copious saliva and left nothing behind. Thick tongues breached the entrance and dragged across the pulsating flesh walls.
It felt wrong but arousing. His heart beat crazy against the rib cage.
Bruce couldn’t tell if it’s him leaking slick or it’s Kal’s saliva, but his bottom was hot, wet and messy.
Fingers that probed again and scissored inside him didn’t hurt so much as the first try. Fuzzy pleasure slowly seeped into the pain and numbed Bruce’s mind. He whimpered, hopelessly. The bleeding bite marks also pulsed with numbness, sending waves of unrecognizable feelings down his spine, drawing him. Bruce was dazed, until Kal lined his cock with his cunt.
He didn’t even notice when the other got rid of his suit.
The massive meaty head steadfastly pressed against his entrance. And pushed. The pressure built up.
Bruce ceased moving and unconsciously held his breath. The time slowed down to milliseconds. He could feel every tiny struggle of his tight ring of muscle held up to resist the inhuman cock to enter, also all slowly giving up under the pressure. There was no stopping. It popped in with a lewd sound. Or Bruce just felt it reckoning in his head. Then came the hard and short thrusts.
Hot pain mixed with incomprehensive pleasure shot down Bruce’s spine like a lightning, knocking out the air in his lungs. Bruce involuntarily scratched the ground underneath him to find purchase, but nothing held him there except Kal’s strong grab on his waist and ass.
Kal leaned forward to bite him again. Again and again. Never stopped moving inside him. It didn’t really take long until he buried his length inside Bruce, head touching the cervix. The walls were burning. The little preparation was not close to enough. Bruce feared Kal would tear him up. He could taste the blood, but he didn’t know for sure. He couldn't see. Everything was overwhelmingly too raw and too painful. The head of cock punched his cervix, he could feel that, more pain than pleasure.
Bruce crawled into himself, as much as he could. Kal was merciless pounding on him. The rut completely took over his mind and body.
Bruce didn’t try to touch himself. On the hinder thought it might be a good idea, at least it could distract him from this seemingly forever lasting agony and pleasure that tore his mind apart.
If it’s purely the pain it would be easier to endure. Bruce had done lots of training for it. However there was pleasure. Pleasure was hard to resist and there was nothing left to fight for.
The fatigue, sleep deprivation, bruised ribs, muscle aches, and all the injuries from his previous struggles with Superman and fights that happened before their regroup were all catching up with him now. Bruce felt bone deep exhaustion, despite everything going on around him. Or inside him, more specifically.
Kal dumped a load of hot cum inside him and Bruce whined at the raw sensation. His cunt compulsorily clenched down on the throbbing cock, happily devouring everything Kal gave it, sucking him dry like a greedy whore.
The alien cock didn’t soften one bit and Kal kept fucking his abused cunt. His mouth pressed at his nape of neck, licking and biting when he saw fitting. One arm tightly wrapped around his waist and squeezed. Bruce was impossibly stuffed and felt his guts rearranging with every poke and prod of the huge cock. He couldn’t care less when Kal almost crashed him with his entire weight and pinned him in place.
His vision turned dark but Bruce didn’t remember when he rested his eyes.
...
He drifted in and out of consciousness.
There was a warm and buzzing feeling pooled in his guts. He was feverish, sweating like being in a pouring rain. He was shaking so bad, almost vibrating. Teeth tried to clench hard but thick fingers pried his mouth open. Freezing water gushed in. He choked on it.
A rumbling sound was above him. Purring. His hazy mind slowly registered it. Hands, huge and hot, touching his cheeks, stroking his spine, taking all the displeasure away. All that was left was the warm, buzzing numbness.
Bruce moaned and stirred. A dubious amount of warm slick leaked between his legs like a broken tap and down his tights. There was something, something meaty and hard was downright to spear him open and make more room inside him. Bruce didn’t know if that’s even possible, but what he could tell was it was succeeding.
He tried to crawl away, but his limbs collapsed. He wanted to escape from, whatever it was, but it shoved in with a determined hard thrust.
Bruce screamed at the top of his lungs.
Something expanded inside him, suddenly eliciting white lightning pain from his abused cunt. He almost passed out cold on it. The trembling of his body finally stopped due to the pure shock.
It’s a knot. His traitorous mind mysteriously worked out the answer. Why was there a knot inside him?
“Good Omega.” A harsh voice muttered next to his ear, repeating the words, with great satisfaction.
Bruce didn’t know where the Omega the other was talking about. He could only smell the Alpha scent. Heavy with lust. Deep in rut. But it smelled good. The blanketed rutting scent hadn’t concealed all the pleasant unique notes like sun baked sheets or vast green corn field.
He liked it. But liking wasn’t enough to stop him from being overwhelmed by the sheer strength of the downpour of rutting scent and a inhumanly huge knot expanding his ruined cunt. For God's Sake, he was not made for this.
No, you were. Or you used to be.
He was drenched and blinded. Alpha fucked him while the knot stuck inside of him, dragging the abused flesh with it every movement, mercilessly crashing all the sweet points inside him until hitting the womb, hard. White pleasure coursed through his veins. Bruce couldn’t bear it anymore.
...
He was burning. Every cell in his body was burned up. Until there was nothing left.
His mind was mud. He couldn’t see straight, let alone think. But he knew a pair of startling blue eyes was watching him with incomprehensible emotions.
He wanted to scream but only heard wanton whines and moans. His throat was raw and hurt.
Something was breached inside him. He was broken. Ruined. Something heavy settled in his guts, or womb, more specifically. It felt like floating in the clouds. Bliss out. Pure ecstasy. He lost the control of his limbs, might be himself too.
He let the other play with his body like a ragged doll. Spearing open and rearranging the guts. Something was moving between his guts again but he barely felt it anymore. He was descending from incoherent happiness. What a shame. He gradually sunk deeper in the dark.
The only comfort left was being held tightly by the strong arms. He won’t let him go. The thought provided a slim of reassurance to his mind.
That’s better than nothing. Frankly he always dreamed of dying in a cold, dark alley and alone.
He was dying. Bruce was sure of it. He had been waiting too long.
...
He didn’t felt like himself, but he also didn’t felt being wronged, with a warm body spooning him from the back, Alpha purred like a downpour, the knot stuffed him beyond the full, hard cock spontaneously pumped hot cum into his womb, their scents mingled nicely and enveloped him like a weighted blanket.
He felt good, satisfied. He knew Alpha felt the same too.
Everything else delightfully receded into the dark. Bruce hummed along the purring Alpha. He wasn’t able to purr correctly. Everything coming out was more like some frustrating wheezing. Alpha was resting his chin on top of his head and smothered him with love for all his trying, so as to take all the bad feeling away. A hand wrapped on his waist and kept him close to the other. Bruce curled up to himself.
They’re locked in this position. He dozed off.