bakerstreet | In Heat/In Rut (now with more actual posting?)

In Heat/In Rut (now with more actual posting?)

THE IN HEAT/IN RUT AU MEME
not an alpha/beta/omega meme

There's no need for elaborate backstories for this AU. You go into heat, rut, whatever you'd like to call it. You've always done so since you were of age to do so. It's a socially accepted norm, and people have gotten used to the difficulties that come with the mating seasons. Life goes on.

Isn't this alpha/beta/omega, then? No, not at all. In this meme, there are no gender-variant genitalia unless your character comes prepackaged with those. No giant cocks - again, unless your character is already packing - or self-lubricating assholes or anal wombs, and no knotting. Unless that's your thing. There's also no set in stone roles with regards to dominance and submission, and some people do not even feel the inclination towards either. Still, there are a few similarities, mainly being that the pheromones of others can put someone into heat that was not in it before and the bond between mates. In addition, some humans/human-stand-ins have created packlike dynamics in response, but this is not universal.

In this meme, it's just regular old human...oids feeling the urge for sex. And by "urge," we of course mean all-consuming drive. If characters choose to ignore that urge, it will backfire on them. The more they put it off, the more they will lose their control, becoming more irritable and aggressive, and eventually be nothing but a rutting animal until the need to mate is satisfied. Not all heats call for mating, of course, and most people can just relieve themselves, but when you do mate, you feel the urge to stay by their side and essentially "nest." These desires don't always pan out into offspring, and mating isn't forever unless it's mutually decided upon. However, impregnating your mate is said to be one of the most euphoric experiences a person can have, even if some people only mate because they want to utterly possess someone, as mates are bonded for a while.

If there's anything that's to your fancy that's been left out, go ahead and add it in. Play it how you'd like!

HOW TO PLAY

Comment with your character and preferences.

Include what you're interested and not interested in.

Respond to others!

PROMPTS

first heat: Baby's first heat. YOU'RE A TEENAGER/LATE BLOOMER AND WHAT IS THIS?

old hand: You've done this a million times, but it never gets any easier.

happen to be here: You're not picky. You can't afford to be. You'll take anybody who's nearby.

old faithful: You're going to the person you always go to in order to relieve your problem.

worked something out: The two of you aren't involved. You just help each other out.

unexpected: You never expected to rut with this person, but here you are.

forbidden: AKA the obligatory incest or age difference option.

volunteer: You've offered yourself up out of the kindness of your heart.

tribute: This isn't your offer. You're the offer from others, a gift for someone powerful to sate their appetite.

mating: You've decided to go one step further and make your relationship deeper.

nesting: Aaah, (temporary) domestic bliss. And lots of fucking. Lots and lots of fucking. Like, you'll barely be able to stand.

bonding: The bond, which is mildly psychic and intensely physical, makes sex even more intense.

the natural conclusion: Heat calls for pregnancy. Get someone pregnant.

already pregnant: Unfortunately, being knocked up doesn't abate your partner's desires. Or yours.

mates for life: Now you're absolutely certain that you want to be with no one else. Of course, this means you'll be in synch with their heat for the rest of forever.

save you: You've been saved from the advances of an undesired mate by someone who may be much more suited. Show your gratitude?

cockfight: Two people want the same mate. That won't do. There are ways to figure that out, not always involving fists.

increase in dominance: Exactly what it says.

increase in submission: Again, exactly what it says.

unexpected dominance: No one expects you to ever be dominant. Prove them wrong.

protect: You want to protect your mate from others, and that means putting your scent all over them.

set off by someone else: You were doing fine until you got a whiff of someone else's pheromones.

resisting temptation: Your heart belongs to someone. You want to stay out of this "heat" thing. You want to rise above it. Whatever it may be, you just have to not take the bait. Easier said than done.

all worked up: You're beginning to lose control and yourself. Quick, do something before you're jumping anything that moves.

pack: As mentioned prior, some people, especially those far out from civilization proper, have formed packs that hold to the more traditional alpha structure. Of course, these packs come with their own rules when it comes to heat and mating.

suitable partner: The desire for certain mates can come from a subconscious level, and you can find yourself aroused by someone showing how strong they are (they can protect you), how curvaceous they look (that must mean they're fertile), or any other number of traits that can benefit you.

desperation: You'll take anyone! Anything!

final release: You've reached your breaking point and your mindless. At least you'll get relief.

fighter: Part of your process is seeing who's worthy of you by testing their mettle. That, or you want to fight anything.

off your meds: It's fairly rare, but some can get blockers for their heat. What if those blockers run out? Why, it makes your heat ten times worse!

noncon: They don't want this. You don't want to stop this.

dubcon: You say no, but your body says yes and you can't stop loving it.

calm you down: Whether it's to fuck or to fight, you're going mad, and they have to bring you back down to Earth.

territorial: How dare someone look at what belongs to you? You'll have to make things right.

odd man out: For some reason, you don't go into heat. Never have. Being with you is pretty relaxing, and some find it appealing to not have to deal with pheromones that aren't theirs. You do have to learn how to appreciate their problems, though.

WILDCARD

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He watched Bruce for a moment before nodding and walking along with him, looking around and clearly taking in details. For what purpose was anyone's guess. No doubt he was supposed to scope the place, look for entry points or pieces of art, things that Lionel could use against Bruce. He made no bones about it, didn't even try and hide his observation. It was the best that he could do to make his feelings known, though he made a point of walking up a few steps and tilting his head.

...Bruce would be able to see a tiny dot just behind his ear where Bruce would almost certainly never be looking, especially the dark hair.

Why was Clark trying to help him?

Resentment of Lionel, Bruce was sure. He walked up to close the distance, pulled off the device and then detoured without a word into a side hall to flush it down the nearest toilet.

"You realize he isn't going to let you come home, now."

He tilted his head to Bruce with a faint smirk and a roll of his eyes.

"What intelligent person wants to go home when his father just passed him off as a sex toy slash assassin?" He shook his head. "I never intended to go home. I just needed to make sure I have enough time to get what I need here."

His eyes focused straight ahead.

"There are things about your parents I doubt you're aware of. Unless you've heard the name 'Veritas' before."

"You may also want to stop being in heat," Bruce said, extremely dryly.

Then froze, narrowed his eyes and growled. "It does not. What."

The answer to that was a low growl as he looked over at Bruce again.

"Rut. And trust me. I'm holding myself back right now because there are more important things."

Something, apparently, caught his eye because he immediately turned and darted into what turned out to be the library. He didn't touch anything, but he started looking around as if he could see the whole room from his vantage point.

"Veritas was an organization which was started by a Dr. Virgil Swann. It counted amongst it's members Lionel Luthor, Robert and Laura Queen, and Thomas and Martha Wayne. It was dedicated primarily to studying and harnessing the potential of number of artifacts left on Earth by what they believed to be an alien civilization."

Bruce resisted the urge to roll his eyes, but only narrowly. Heat, rut, either way it was a hormonal condition that made Clark want sex. It did make him question just how dead Lionel Luthor wanted him.

Sending someone in heat to a rival was one thing, someone in rut was quite another.

"Alien artifacts?" He was somewhat bewildered, but mostly sharply and obsessively interested - as well as more turned on than he wanted to admit, or deal with. His brain skidded a bit, and then caught on with the names and current situation. "Lionel didn't want to share, I assume."

He apparently saw something, because he started walking with purpose through the stacks towards a particular bookcase. There's no false wall or doorway that he's looking for; the item he wants is small and he'd been able to find out that it had been given to the Waynes for safe keeping. His hand reaches out to one of the shelves, pulls out a couple of books with care, and puts it aside. Then he's searching for a seam along the side of the wood.

"Lionel never shares. Especially not when it doesn't belong to him."

He turned to look at Bruce.

"From what I was able to find, several of Waynetech's more interesting advancements came from Veritas research projects. But what I'm looking for is-"

Pop. Grin.

...and then his face fell with a growl.

"Dammit, it was supposed to be here."

Edited 2016-03-06 00:59 (UTC)

Bruce stopped and leaned against the open door and watched Clark, and listened. Less rattled now, he was less inclined to just simply take information - and less desperate for it.

That Clark wasn't finding what he wanted helped, too.

So did the fact that there was some distance between them and he wasn't quite so compromised by Clark's pheromones. "What was supposed to be there?" he asked, with excessive casualness.

Displeasure apparently vented itself by making him look mildly murderous as he turned to focus on Bruce again. He started walking closer as he spoke, something of a predator's pace to his movements.

Or perhaps just a cornered animal ready to fight.

"A box," he said, slow and deliberate. "A long, thin box with pointed ends that looks like it's made from a mirror with a symbol etched into it."

Edited 2016-03-06 01:39 (UTC)

Bruce didn't retreat or withdraw, didn't even flinch, but the closeness - Well, his body responded to that, as much as the implied threat. Arousal and tension and preparing for a fight, but all it was was hormonal shifts, flush of heat, and muscles tensing. Center of gravity changing.

Everything happened under his skin.

"Why do you need it?"

He moved, too fast for anything human, and he was suddenly inches away from Bruce and looking him in the eyes. Slowly, as if he was enjoying what he was doing to Bruce, he lifted his arm with one of the cuffs.

"Because it's my way out. The only way I've ever found to be free of my father."

To leave this world behind.

He let his head tilt down with a faint smile on his lips, glancing over at Bruce through the fringe of his hair and dark lashes.

"Not to mention that it's mine."

Slowly, he started letting go of his control, of the will he'd used to keep from giving in to what his body wanted.

"Do you know where it is?"

He was too fast to be human but not so fast that Bruce couldn't react. It was just that the reaction didn't get very far before Clark was in his face again.

"I do."

Clark watched him for a moment, watched his face and looked down at his body with a thoughtful expression before letting his eyes lift to Bruce's face again.

"I want you first. And the box second. That work for you?"

"That really depends on how much information you're willing to give me." He reached out, and traced his thumb along the edge of one cuff. Considering, in a very vague way - not taking them off, but what Clark was.

And what kind of alien artifact he was after.

And if he was truly acting against Lionel or for him.

Clark considered it for a moment, considered where his allegiances really lay, and lifted his head a little.

"It's mine because I am from the planet these artifacts come from. The box belonged to my people. And the rock in these" he lifted the cuff again, "is the radioactive remains of that planet. They make me sick, weaken me. Otherwise, I could rip your head off before you took another breath and ransack this house before most people could finish searching one shelf."

"What does the box - or what's in it - do?"

Though hey, good news. He was now not so uninformed as to rip those cuffs off!

He looked back at Bruce.

"That, I'll keep to myself. I've given quite a lot to you and received precious little back. These," he lifted up the cuffs, "are still on, after all."

He lowered them again.

"What I will tell you is that it's no weapon and it will cause no harm to anyone for me to have that box."

"The problem being, of course, a good deal of what you've given me could be more easily construed as a threat than as useful information."

The cuffs were still on, Clark was still in rut, and this situation was still extremely difficult. He wasn't even entirely convinced this wasn't all a ploy by Luthor to get his hands on whatever was in that box.

"What would your father do if he had what the box contains?"

He can't help the growl. He wishes he could, because he'd stupidly trusted someone to try and help him and once again, he was on his own.

"I just admit to being an alien, something you could hold over my head for the rest of my life, and you're concerned about a bit of mouthing off from someone whose insides are currently twisting themselves in knots?" His chuckle is low and irritated. "I didn't take you for such a delicate flower, Wayne."

"I'm concerned about an alpha in rut who is an alien who could rip my head off faster than I could see, yes." That's not being delicate, dammit, but still. It takes no time at all for him to have both those cuffs off. But: "You won't find that box in your own. Stay here."

It takes him a moment as the cuffs are pulled free, the proximity still meddling with him until he gets a handle on them and throws them to the other side of the library. Once they're gone, the color returns to his face and a certain sparkle comes back to his eyes.

"How silly, Wayne," he says with a slow, sly grin. "After all, I'm not a fool. Why, oh why, would I waste the opportunity for something as sweet-smelling as you by hurting you?"

He moved and Bruce was held up against one of the bookshelves, mostly by the press of Clark's body.

"You wanted me to stay here, after all. Right here? Or would a bed work better?"

Bruce is not okay with this situation - he's not.

He's turned on as hell, in pure physical response to the body against his and the proximity of Luthor - even without the scent rolling off him. With it, it's damned near mind-numbing in its intensity. Has skin flushing and heating, his pupils dilating and a wave of arousal tearing through him.

But he's not entirely okay. There is definite, though unacknowledged and expressed, fear there. The sort that comes from recognizing a threat.

He can't track the movement, and he knows without even trying that Luthor won't be - can't be - moved.

He has enough self-control not to struggle, but not enough to stop the flash of teeth that come with a silent snarl. "Oh, here is fine." He says, and then bites at Clark's lip.

Clark kisses him into that bite, lets Bruce gnaw on him as he dives in for more, and he can't even help rolling his hips up against Bruce's. But after the kiss, after the bite, he pauses and pulls back for a moment before letting out a growl.

"God, you smell so fucking good..." and he's nuzzling at Bruce's jaw, staying clear of his throat. He knows the game, knows how to play it properly. And he could... there's so many things he could do. But he needs the box.

He'll tell himself over and over that's why. That he needs the box. It's not at all that he wants Wayne to want him. That he's weak and can't make himself take this, that his pride won't let him.

Bruce stays relatively tense while Clark kisses him, even growls a little as he bites and chews back, in spite of his very obvious arousal and physical response. Not only being turned on but pushing away from the bookcase to arch against Clark, grind into him even.

The point that changes - the tension, the wariness, the caution that comes with a threat that isn't nearly well enough known, and all the scheming and planning that his brain insists upon doing in the face of that - is the second Clark ducks down toward his jaw and doesn't go for his throat.

At that moment something in his muscles and center of gravity changes and he slips one hand up into Clark's hair and the other against the small of his back. Arches again, more fluidly and less violently - but still somewhat... watchful in demenaor. Testing, perhaps.

His hands skim over Bruce's slacks, find the opening, and pull with an an amazing amount of strength before he lets go to start running his fingers over Bruce's skin. He feels the muscle, but he also feels the scars and smiles like a cat with a canary in his sights. Then he's dipping down to catch the front of Bruce's shirt in his teeth to tear it open from the top as well.

Expensive clothes, now rags, but he knows Wayne can buy more. This can't wait.

In Heat/In Rut (now with more actual posting?)

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