#lay low

oh em gee! my superbat omegaverse fic is up and posted!! Only the first chapter so far but the first 20k is polished and ready to upload!!

No association with Bruce Wayne would have been the path of least resistance for Clark Kent. He knew it to be true the first night they spent together, as he was whisked into a honeymoon suite rising above the city. It was true when their super-identities were accidentally revealed after a bashful Clark called Bruce “B” during a hookup. And there was no denying it last night when he found himself locked in Bruce’s dressing room during an exclusive photoshoot for a charity calendar, properly disheveled and hidden after being snuck in. Clark knew how the optics would be perceived; he was a reporter for a prestigious news outlet and was secretly dating a wealthy Playboy who often found himself in scandalous paparazzi altercations. He knew it to be true as they were superheroes leading double lives. Yet, at Bruce’s beckon, Clark finds himself right back at the omega’s side.

or

What if Clark accompanied Bruce to the Circus the night the Flying Graysons died?

_________

While Clark found it easy to trust his omega and resist urges to be overprotective, Bruce’s insistence on being a prominent figure in Gotham while maintaining the Batman mantle scared Clark. He had his fingers in multiple pies, and yet still patrolled the city for 4 hours most nights. A part of his heart wanted to whisk him away to Smallville and shield his partner from the villains and press. The image of Bruce naked in a kitchen of a small farmhouse in one of his fancy robes flashed in Clark’s mind, alerting Bruce with a whiff of his arousal.

“Farmer boy, you have chores to do before you can get that knot wet.” Bruce laughed, motioning to his half-washed body, implying his bath to be Clark’s unfinished work.

“Gosh, I’m real sorry, Mr. Wayne,” Clark played, “I got distracted for a moment there. Felt myself slipping away.” He apologized, leaning into his country accent with a soft, clueless frown on his face.

Bruce hummed curiously, “And what could possibly be so distracting?” He asked, pulling Clark’s hand from his hair to his chest and slowly moving it down, “That you’d think to stop washing my hair?”