Fic: Hunger

[starsandsea]

Title: Hunger
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Bruce, Clark, Alfred
Word Count: 1755
Warning: Vampires!
Disclaimer: I own nothing
Author's Note: Sequel to New Partnerships. Lots of thanks to mithen for the beta! :D




The moon was blood red. Bruce looked up at it, feeling his fangs aching slightly. It had been a long time since he had fed, by all standards.

He was weak. After drinking Kal-El's blood, no others would satisfy him. Nothing else would sate his hunger. It was dangerous thinking that, not just what the cravings would do to him, to those around him, but if Kal ever discovered just how deep Bruce was in his thrall...

But Bruce knew Kal, knew he would never take advantage of him like that. Not like he had done.

A wave of hunger slammed into him, and Bruce moaned, closing his eyes, tasting his own blood where his fangs had pierced his lips. He was so far gone he only realized another approached him when he felt the hand upon his shoulder.

*****

Alfred looked at his Master, sorrow in his eyes. When he had first returned from his travels around the world, he had been so ashamed. Of what he had turned into, of what he had allowed people to turn him into. And, though he would never admit it, of what he would think. But Alfred had seen many things during his time with the Secret Service, and, though seeing his young master changed so much had grieved him, he wasn't about to turn his back on him.

But seeing him now, like this, wracked with blood-lust, trying desperately not to give in...

Alfred carefully reached forward, and placed his hand upon his shoulder. It was a measure of how far Bruce was gone that it startled him.

"Alfred," his master's voice was hoarse, his eyes were nearly black.

"Master Bruce. You can not go on like this, sir. Please, drink." He offered the covered wine glass, full of human blood, acquired from the Wayne Foundation Medical Clinics.

Bruce's whole body shuddered, his fangs grew even longer, before he turned away. "I can't, Alfred. I can't."

"Why not, sir? Why can you no longer accept this blood?"

Bruce whirled to face him, eyes flecked with red now, his anger palpable. "Because it won't do anything! Not after... not after I had..." He trailed off, his hands clenching into fists.

Alfred just looked at him. "Please, sir. Try." He offered the wine glass again, but Bruce turned away.

"I'm sorry, Alfred," he whispered, before he moved away, into the shadows and out of the room.

*****

Alfred placed the full wine glass into the special refrigerator he used for storing the blood that Master Bruce needed, and sighed. He supposed it was inevitable, that after drinking Superman's blood, no other's would compare. But how he wished it wasn't so.

Master Bruce was far too stubborn to ask him, although Alfred did sympathize with the awkwardness of the situation. You could hardly walk up to a man, and ask to drink his blood. Even if he knew what you were. And you had done so before.

There was the main problem, Alfred thought, for the last time Master Bruce had drunk from Superman, he had done so without asking him, before Superman knew what he was. It seemed that Bruce had viewed what he had done as akin to rape, and had hardly spoken to Superman since. And now he was killing himself over it.

Well, Alfred thought, closing the door to the refrigerator with a thump, Master Bruce might be too stubborn to ask Superman for his blood, but he was not!

*****

Superman floated down to Wayne Manor warily, seeing large amounts of lead blocking his vision. He wasn't quite sure what to make of this situation. He had been... contacted, over a special, high pitch frequency, beyond human hearing, by someone claiming Batman's life was in danger, and he needed Superman's help immediately. That he had to come to Wayne Manor if he wanted to save Batman's life.

What billionaire playboy Bruce Wayne had to do with this, Kal had no idea.

But, if Batman's life was in danger, even knowing that he was more powerful than he had once supposed, thanks to him being a vampire, didn't stop him from worrying. Because having greater power must mean having greater weakness too, though Batman had never mentioned any to him.

Honestly, they hadn't gotten much of a chance to talk at all since Batman had revealed his true nature to him. Frowning, Superman floated down to Wayne Manor, landing softly on the front door steps.

*****

Bruce hid in the shadows of the library, trying to ignore the pain wracking his body, the blood-lust. There was nothing that could be done, anyway. Nothing.

He had never thought he would die like this.

Bruce moaned, a sob catching in his throat, the desperation rising in him, to hell with the consequences, and just take, take Superman's blood, tear his throat out and gorge himself on the beautiful, sweet, delicious blood...

"Uh..."

Bruce spun around at the unexpected sound, saw Superman hovering in the doorway, his eyes wide. They just looked at each other for a frozen moment, before Bruce moaned again, breaking eye contact, feeling his knees going weak, his hands curling into fists. He could smell Superman's scent in the air, his sweet, sweet blood...

"B... Batman?" Superman whispered, clearly amazed.

Of course, Bruce thought distantly, he wasn't in costume. He was just... Bruce. But what... why was Superman here? How did he know? Bruce turned to ask him, and felt the world disappear from below him.

*****

He heard the voices first. That was Alfred's worried voice, and answering it was... Superman? What was he doing here? Bruce blinked his eyes open, wincing at the bright light.

"Ah, Master Bruce. Welcome back."

Bruce blinked, able to make out Alfred's blurry face now. "Al... Alfred?" He whispered, wincing at the dryness of his throat.

"Sir."

There was more movement, not from Alfred, and Bruce turned his head, saw Superman there. He blinked at him.

"If you'll excuse me, sir."

Bruce turned his head back to Alfred to protest his leaving, but it was too late. Alfred was already gone.

"B..."

Bruce looked back at Superman, felt him taking one of his hands, holding it between his own, and squeezing it softly. Bruce blinked at him, but all he could see was his eyes, the blue dark with worry and grief.

"Why didn't you say anything? Were you just going to let yourself starve to death? Did you think I thought so little of you?"

Bruce could hardly keep up with his questions, but somehow it was the last one that hurt the most.

"B..." Superman sighed deeply, squeezing his hands again, before letting it fall back to the bed. Bruce blinked again as he felt strong arms holding his limp form, bringing his face up to... Superman's neck. He tried to hold back a moan, but failed, Superman's scent was simply too intoxicating.

"It's okay, B. It's okay." Superman held him closer, angling his neck, so one side of it was fully exposed. "It's okay," he repeated.

Bruce looked up, feeling his fangs protruding, tasting his own blood, catching another glimpse of those stunning blue eyes, before his resistance totally gave way, and he bit into Superman's neck, hard.

*****

Bruce eyed himself in the mirror critically, using a towel to wipe blood off his face and neck. He hadn't been careful, feeding off Superman. Bruce sighed, and set the damp towel down, before squaring his shoulders and walking out of his bathroom.

Superman was lying in his bed, looking in his direction. He smiled, somewhat dopily, as Bruce appeared. His neck was already clean, only two faint red marks remained as evidence of what they had done.

Bruce slowly sat down next to him. "How do you feel?" He had gorged himself, unable to stop once he had had his first taste. Now guilt plagued his stomach, not hunger.

"I... well, I don't think moving is a good idea right now, but I'll be fine in a few hours."

"I could fly you to your fortress and get it to make that... drink again." Bruce offered.

"No, it's okay. Really," Kal added, finding one of Bruce's hands and clasping it. Bruce squeezed back softly, and another goofy smile spread across Kal's face. The smile faded and he squeezed his hand again.

"B... I'm, uh, not sure what to call you..." Kal trailed off uncertainly, and Bruce couldn't resist a tiny smile of his own.

"Bruce is fine."

"Bruce," the smile was back on Kal's face, and Bruce blinked at the intensity of it. "Alfred... he told me a little about about what was going on, and... well..." he trailed off, color in his cheeks. "I don't want you to ever do that again. You're my best friend, and I... care about you. Please, just let me know when you need me."

Bruce looked away, swallowing. "Kal..."

"No, I'm serious." Kal squeezed his hand again, empathizing his point. "Please."

Bruce nodded, knowing there was no point in arguing, not when it came down to it.

"And, so you can contact me whenever you want, I... well, I'm Clark Kent."

Now Bruce did look at him sharply. "What?"

"I'm Clark Kent. In my day job." Kal repeated, with a sheepish smile.

"The Daily Planet reporter?" Bruce asked

"Um, yes."

Bruce couldn't hold back a snort of laughter. "So, you're one of my employees then?"

The blush on Kal's face turned a even brighter red. "Ah, yes." There was a pause. "I had no idea that you were... that Bruce Wayne was..."

Bruce cut him off with a wave of his hand. "Save it. You need to rest. We can talk properly later." He squeezed Kal's... Clark's... hand again, before placing it back on the bed, and standing up. "Rest now."

Kal looked like he was about to protest, but closed his eyes suddenly, the color draining from his face. "Okay," he said weakly.

Bruce quietly moved away, then paused in the doorway, looking back at his bed, at the brightly clothed hero in it. "And Kal? Thank you."

Kal's eyes opened, a smile lit up the room. "You're welcome."