Chapter Text
Lex’s office in the Luthorcorp tower is infuriatingly far away from where he retrieves Ultraman. Having the Hammer of Boravia enter in the control office is smart, because it means for easier entry, exit, and control, but it also means that he has to parade his shiny new toy around the Luthorcorp offices and pretend he isn’t about to do something he wouldn’t care to repeat to his colleagues.
Lex admits it’s slightly counterintuitive to be labeling the alien clone Ultraman, as if it were anything but a less-than-desirable, well, alien. But a small part of him loves what he’d come up with—the blatant mockery of Superman’s self proclaimed heroics.
Superman. The name is so ridiculous Lex wants to laugh—or yell. He’s not super, first of all. Superman was merely born with something unique that made him believe he was above everyone else. There’s nothing super about his character besides his supernatural powers. He’s just manipulating everyone around him to believe he’s doing good. Second of all, he—it, Lex scolds himself with a furrowed brow—isn’t a man. Superman is an alien. Superman doesn’t deserve any of the respect it gets.
Lex has been trying to convince the public for years the dangerous force Superman could be, to no avail. It makes him want to scream, really, how ignorant the people of Metropolis are. They’re all falling for the performance of Superman’s heroics and failing to look past the mask and see who it really is.
Lex feels more torn apart by Superman each day that passes. The worst part of Lex’s hatred is his past as a fan of Superman. His present. The day he appeared in Metropolis, a beam of sunlight hitting his back making him look like a god, Lex was starstruck. He’d been head over heels for the “hero” the second the blue and red flashed across his vision.
It’s always been awe. Awe for his strength, his kindness, his courage… Lex could go on for hours. Superman is, truly, a hero. He’s always thought that.
But then there was the rejection. Lex Luthor always got what he wanted, so why couldn’t he have Superman? After all, what sane man wouldn’t be interested in a billionaire like himself? Lex found he didn’t quite care whether the relationship was genuine if it meant he could have Superman for himself.
He found himself following scenes of rubble and mild-mannered reporters until it was clear he was invisible to the alien. Superman didn’t once stop to check if he was okay—regardless of whether or not he was actually injured or simply in the proximity of an event.
Utter torture.
Superman didn’t care for humans. He didn’t have any compassion. He wasn’t there each time Lex positioned himself near a disaster in the hopes of grabbing his attention. He was never there when he was swept off his feet by the force of a monster shaking the ground. He was never there to shut him down each time he said something slanderous about him. Superman didn’t see Lex.
If Superman is never there to help the humans he swore to protect, then Lex will make sure the world knows the truth. If he won’t love him, Lex will make sure everyone hates him.
Lex silently curses his own genius as Ultraman’s heavy, impenetrable armor loudly clangs against the marble floor with every step he takes. He’s supposed to be doing this discreetly, he remembers, but a quick look at each employee he passes reminds him of the power he holds in this establishment. Nobody has any reason or nerve to question Lex Luthor, and any sane person would simply come to the conclusion that Lex and the Hammer of Boravia would be either strategizing or sharing a drink in his office. Any sane person would be doing that, Lex reminds himself. Instead, he’s…
Lex flushes and presses his handprint onto his office door’s scanner. He glances discreetly around the spotless corridor, checking for any suspicious looks. He’s happy enough to realize nobody is around but him and his clone of the alien freak.
He opens the door, then glances over his shoulder to flash Ultraman a devious smile. It has no bearing on the clone, obviously, being nearly brainless, but Lex finds it helps him imagine what he’s trying to.
Lex holds the door open to allow the Hammer of Boravia in, and when the door is securely shut behind them both, he signals for the alien to remove its helmet. It does so on his command and sets it carefully down onto a side table. Lex allows himself to smile slightly, anticipation building in his chest. He’s really going through with this.
“Sit down, there.” Lex commands, pointing at the soft cushioned chair in the corner of his office. He revels in the clone’s immediate reaction to his voice. If only Superman were so easily controlled. Oh, well.
“Go ahead, remove your armor,” Luthor says casually, as if requesting an old friend to get comfortable. The clanking sounds of the armor piling in the corner are music to Lex’s ears. He ducks to a chilled compartment in the side table to the chairs and pulls out a glass and a bottle of whiskey. It’s a shame Superman is unable to get drunk under a yellow sun, he thinks, pouring the liquid into his cup. It would be a great honor to share a bottle with the Man of Steel.
Lex takes a seat in the chair across from Ultraman. He crosses his legs and swirls his drink in his hand, surveying the chiseled physique visible even through the thick fabric.
He’s very proud of his work with the clone. It was a difficult project, creating a man—thing—nearly identical to Metropolis’ metahuman. Lex and his team have shared this victory quite equally and openly, but there is a part of the alien clone’s software that he hasn’t bothered to share with the group. Something he hasn’t yet tested himself, and is very much getting worked up about trying.
The clone Luthorcorp created responds to computer input as well as vocal commands, which can only be activated with Lex’s own voice. Lex is intent on using the voice control to his full advantage tonight—and he’s not all that interested in testing for bugs. Seeing Superman interfere with his plans—everywhere, no matter where he looks, whether it’s his own phone or his local newspaper or projected in his brain when he closes his eyes—has been riling him up. He’s dismissed every concerned employee trying to make sure he doesn’t drive himself insane, because no Luthorcorp minion—no matter how close to him—could understand how he feels about Superman.
Lex has been tense. He finds his head pounding and his jaw clenched painfully every time he witnesses the Man of Steel being celebrated—which has been far too often lately, he notes. Anybody strolling past him in the command center while Lex watched a Superman broadcast would obviously compute his deep hatred for the alien, but nobody would notice Lex’s hand snaking under his desk to desperately palm at himself. Nobody notices the guttural groans and whispered words Lex produces late at night in his office, replaying footage of Superman.
He tilts his head slightly, looking at Ultraman with hooded eyes. It’s wrong, what he’s doing. But he wants—needs it so bad he can’t bring himself to stop it before it begins.
The drink in Lex’s hand is set down onto the table with a soft clink as he rises from his chair. His hands move slowly, deliberately, towards the goggles covering the clone’s eyes. He knows it isn’t real, and there’s no need to perform for what is essentially a robot. But a part of him needs to think it’s Superman he’s seducing right now. Who is he kidding, all of him needs it.
Maybe he’ll never have Superman. But he can have this.
Lex’s fingers reach under the strap of the goggles and pull them off, carelessly discarding them somewhere to the side. Superman’s eyes blink up at him, curious, yet blank. Lex frowns. This is where the fantasy is spoiled. It’s hard to imagine he’s finally getting what he wants from Superman when the clone in front of him doesn’t have the mental capacity to be as turned on as Lex is.
He doesn’t really care what Ultraman looks like, though, for this experiment. He’ll have his eyes closed in no time.
Lex kneels in front of Ultraman, reaching his hands to either side of his neck. He pulls the mask up with his bottom lip between his teeth, watching Superman’s features reveal themselves on the face of Ultraman.
His face is cold and apathetic to the situation, but Luthor finds he doesn’t quite care. The mere sight of Superman’s eyes, hard and focused on his, is enough to keep him entertained for weeks.
“That’s better,” Lex says, more to himself than anything. He closes his eyes a little longer than normal when he blinks, and imagines Superman staring up at him with the same amount of lust as he feels. He stands to his regular height and stalks back to his chair. Now comes the fun part.
Lex takes a swig of his drink before sitting down hard and moving to undo his tie. He can feel the room heating against his control. God, he hasn’t even done anything yet and he’s already worked up. The first buttons of his shirt are undone when he gets an idea.
“Ultraman,” he says slowly. He nearly chokes on the words. He’s too excited, he knows. “Unbutton my shirt for me.”
Ultraman stands from his chair, taking strong, purposeful steps towards him. It’s hard to focus on anything but the familiar, determined look in his eye. Lex nearly melts on the spot.
The clone walks forward until its legs hit the front of the chair, bracketing Lex’s crossed legs. Lex swallows hard as Ultraman leans down to unbutton his shirt. His hands are warm and firm like Superman’s, and their swiftness in completing the given task makes Lex a little dizzy.
When Ultraman is done, he stands and straightens his back, awaiting instruction.
“Good boy,” Lex purrs. His hand that rests on his exposed stomach begins moving further down. He pretends it’s Superman’s hand unbuttoning his trousers for his own sanity. “You can go ahead and sit down again.”
Ultraman obliges, sitting down with little grace. Lex closes his eyes and begins shuffling his pants around his hips to fall at his feet. He doesn’t give himself the pleasure of touching himself just yet, though. He’s gonna drag this out as long as he can.
In his mind’s eye, Lex Luthor sees Superman. He’s bursting into the office, distraught and angry. Lex has done something terrible, no doubt. Superman has that dangerous look in his eye that has made Lex go through several boxes of tissues in his office. It’s beautiful. It’s repulsive. Lex loves it. But he wouldn’t just stand there silently, would he?
Lex reaches over to the side table and pumps lotion into his hand.
“Ultraman,” Lex says quietly, hand slipping into his boxers. God, he has no self control. “Say my name. Please.”
“Lex Luthor.” Ultraman says, monotone. Lex’s eyebrows furrow.
“Just Lex. Put a little emotion into it, will you?”
Ultraman waits, processing the command as Lex continues to prod himself. When he speaks, it’s low and heated.
“Lex,” the clone snarls, his deep baritone a perfect replication of an enraged Superman. Lex lets his head fall back against the back of the chair, his hand wrapped firmly around his dick. He begins stroking slowly with Superman in mind. Perfection.
Luthor’s breath is a bit short when he says, “Again, Ultraman.”
“Lex.”
Lex sees Superman in his mind, storming towards him. He smiles and moves his hand faster.
He nods at Ultraman.
“Lex,” he growls again.
His hand’s movements becoming harder and more frantic, Lex breathes out, “Tell me you hate me. Keep the anger.”
A snarl lines Superman’s voice when he says, “I hate you.”
Lex’s hand and brain stop short at that. The image in his brain has escalated far past dialogue. The situation doesn’t feel real enough with his Superman across the room and out of reach—but he knows a solution.
Lex removes his hand from his boxers and kicks his dress pants away from where they sit around his ankles. In his mind, he’s sophisticated and sharp when Superman comes to invade his privacy. But, in real life, he’s just sitting in his office, across from his alien-robot-clone thing, with an intense hard-on he has no intentions of leaving ignored.
“Ultraman, stand. Come kneel in front of me.”
When Ultraman obliges, Lex feels the strength radiating from him. He could snap him in half if he wanted to. Honestly, Lex doesn’t think he’d be all that opposed to it.
Superman—Ultraman—‘s face is apathetic, although a twinge of the anger used in the previous commands lingers in his eyes. Lex smiles maliciously, biting his lip. His hands reach out and trace the lines of Superman’s jaw. Just like the rest of him, the alien’s face is sharply contoured and gorgeous. Lex can admit—privately—that he is about as attracted to Superman as anyone.
Lex runs his hands through the clone’s hair, silky and curling around his fingers like it was meant to be held in his grip. Lex had been tempted before to cut Ultraman’s hair to look more similar to Superman’s, but the act would show much more about his feelings for Superman than he’d care to admit. If Superman met the clone and saw he’d been tailored to perfectly resemble him—no, no. The situation was almost too repulsive to imagine. Almost.
Superman would unmask the clone and realize exactly what it was. A manifestation of Lex’s need. He’d examine him closely, the way he always did with his enemies, and notice the care put into the clone’s hair to look like his own. Maybe he’d smirk. Maybe he’d get angry. Whatever it was, Lex likes where the fantasy goes. He can practically feel himself being lifted and slammed against the wall. He lets a sigh escape his lips as he thinks of it.
Lex mentally adds it to his list. Still plenty of time with Ultraman.
Luthor licks his lips and says, a little strained, “Tell me you want me. Make it convincing. Lustful.” He draws out the last word as if it would do anything to Ultraman. Superman. Lex frowns suddenly. He doesn’t feel like denying himself anything anymore. This is Superman on his knees in front of him, as far as he’s concerned.
“I want you, Lex,” Superman growls, a twinge of real need in his voice. Lex feels his dick give a twitch. It’s so close to what he imagined it feels unreal. He really struck gold with this clone.
His eyes trail from Superman’s soulful eyes to his beautiful, unimpressed lips. It’s quite in character for him, really, in this fantasy. Lex doesn’t mind that much when “Superman” remains unresponsive to his touch, because it’s quite similar to how the real Superman would act. Lex thinks it would be fun to get him to unwind. Maybe another time, though. He’s busy right now.
Lex leans forward, drinking up the way Superman’s eyes follow his movements, even if they’re purely curious and not anticipating. His left hand cradles Superman’s face while the other slides down to his shoulder. He uncrosses his legs to get closer to Superman, and whispers in his ear, “You want me?” Superman doesn’t respond. Lex doesn’t necessarily care. “So take me.”
Lex closes his eyes, and, with an urgency, presses his mouth against Superman’s. In his dreams, he does it to shut up one of his little “hero” speeches, but now he’s doing it just for the love of the game. Superman’s lips are warm and soft, but still clearly belonging to the Man of Steel. Sturdy and dependable. Lex could get used to it.
Lex makes a disappointed noise when Ultraman fails to reciprocate the kiss—however chaste. He pulls away slightly, eyes still trained on Superman’s lips. He moves his hand to lift the alien’s face up and says, “For God’s sake, move with me here. Kiss me back.”
Superman doesn’t answer, obviously, instead moving his head to better fit with Lex’s. Lex exhales as their lips slot together. It’s perfect. Better than anything he could come up with on a night alone in the office. It’s all Lex’s months of effort and need complied into the sensation of the alien’s hot mouth against his. He swears if he had worse self control he’d be finishing on the spot.
Lex feels himself slide back in the chair. Superman climbs over him, and suddenly, he’s being straddled. The friction he feels against his arousal makes him gasp into the alien’s mouth. He slides his hands to the back of Superman’s head and tugs on his hair. He tries to pretend it’s the short, well groomed black hair that Metropolis fawns over. Superman makes a low noise that echos through Lex’s head and goes straight to his cock. He files the noise away for later, knowing it’s the same noise the real Superman would make.
Superman’s hands travel up and down Lex’s torso, and the evident strength in his movements makes Lex shudder. A sudden spike of envy and anger towards Superman makes Lex bite his bottom lip harshly. He wants to see the Man of Steel bleed. Superman’s lips part in shock—but not pain, he notes with disappointment—allowing Lex’s tongue to move forward and explore the alien’s mouth. He half expected his tongue to be forked, but when the hot and slick press of Superman’s tongue meets his, its as though he were simply kissing another human being.
He’s not, though, Lex reminds himself. He’s kissing an alien. It should disgust him, but as Superman’s groans are swallowed in his open mouth he can’t find it in him to care.
Lex feels his hips bucking involuntarily, and reluctantly pulls away from Superman for air. A string of saliva connects them as he rests his forehead against the alien’s.
“Shit, you’re good. Probably a result of my expertise, hm?” Lex chuckles softly, enjoying the deep breaths Superman is taking. He smiles up at him and says, “I guess all those files I imported gave you a good sense of what you’re doing. What I like. Keep it up.”
Superman’s head tilts back and Lex’s follows. It’s everything he’s craved for months. None of his ex-girlfriends could ever kiss him like this, he notes. Nobody Lex has kissed could ever move their strong yet gentle hands to the back of his neck and hold him like a vice. Nobody could be Superman.
“Lex,” Ultraman says against his open mouth. Maybe he’s not as idiotic as Lex presumed. He clearly understands how saying Lex’s name has made him throw his head back and arch against him. “Lex.”
Lex moans when Superman’s mouth moves to his jaw, then his neck. He knows he shouldn’t be allowing him to leave marks, but he’s more aware of Superman’s strong hands touching him than anything he should be doing. Besides, he’s doing a lot worse already.
Maybe tomorrow he’ll walk into work with the marks of Superman’s lust visible above his collar. The thought alone is enough to make his body spasm with need.
Lex feels his boxers slick with pre-cum and knows he needs to step it up a notch. He allows Ultraman to slowly kiss down his torso, his body hot and firm. It shouldn’t turn Lex on when he realizes how exposed he is compared to Ultraman’s full body uniform, but it does. The power Superman has over him has always made him feel like this.
Superman’s lips scorch him as he trails down farther, and Lex has to take a few deep breaths to avoid making some truly embarrassing noises.
“Good. Yes,” Lex whispers shakily, “Good job.”
“Lex,” Superman growls, full of anger and need, “I hate you. I want you.”
Lex groans, loud. He wouldn’t be surprised if the whole office hears him. His hips lift off of the seat and are promptly shoved back down by Superman’s strong hands. He grunts embarrassingly at the control Superman has over him. It’s almost too much.
“Get these goddamn boxers off of me and—” Lex gasps when Superman follows his instructions almost simultaneously with his words. The chilled air of his office hits his dick like a vengeful force. He looks down at Superman’s face, hard eyes focused on his leaking cock.
Lex lifts his hips without thinking, only to be forced back down again by Superman. Lex moves his hands from gripping the chair's arms to bury in Superman’s hair. He’s going to need something to hold onto.
“Come on, Superman.” Lex says coolly, trying to calm his face. He’s aware it’s a futile attempt, but it helps to imagine he’s in control here. He is, though, isn’t he? Goddamn Superman is on his knees in front of him, ready to do whatever he asks. Lex gives a dark smile. He holds onto Superman’s hair and tugs hard, forcing their eyes to meet. He tilts his own chin up so he can look down his nose at the Man of Steel. He says, “Go ahead. Suck me off like you mean it.”
He lets his grip on Superman’s hair falter and instead cradles his face. He smiles once more before letting go and sliding his hands up to the chair’s arms. Superman is at Lex’s feet, on his knees for him. He feels powerful.
That is, until Superman licks a stripe up his dick, shattering his resolve. He lets out a deep groan, trying not to writhe under the alien’s touch as he swipes his tongue around the head. The heat deep in his gut coils and grows as Superman moves his perfect mouth around and around before taking the head between his lips. Lex uses most, if not all, of his willpower to stop himself from shouting profanities and clawing at the alien’s skin.
Lex pants, feeling Superman take him deeper into his mouth. He suddenly has the urge to see if Kryptonians have a gag reflex or not. He looks down through hooded eyes at Superman’s perfect face, his cock disappearing between the alien’s pink lips. He looks up at Lex with a similar expression of lust, making Lex’s face heat with disdain and desire. It’s nearly too much.
Maybe it’s not enough. Lex wants to make Superman sweat.
His hand finds the clone’s hair again, tugging and lowering, leading him into a bobbing pattern. It feels heavenly. Superman follows his movements obediently, continuing even when Lex’s hand grips his hair with no movement. Lex starts meeting the bobs of Superman’s head with his own thrusts, forcing him to take more of Lex’s cock into his mouth. It’s a beautiful sight, he thinks, seeing his enemy’s mouth open for more as he bucks his hips greedily. He feels his dick hit the back of Superman’s throat, and groans. No gag reflex. Very valuable information.
Superman moves his head vigorously, like it was something he was created to do. Lex’s back arches off the chair as he moans Superman’s name repeatedly with a blush coating his face. He’s glad they’re doing this at night when Luthorcorp is nearly empty, or he would almost be embarrassed with what he’s doing. But no amount of embarrassment could stop him from pumping into Superman’s mouth with a desperation he didn’t think he had in him.
He feels his climax coming and abruptly pulls Superman’s head away by his hair. His mouth is removed from Lex’s dick with a wet noise that makes Lex exhale shakily. He throws his head back against the chair, staring at the ceiling, trying to come down from the high.
As much as he’d love to be manhandled by Superman for the rest of time, Lex can admit that a large portion of his fantasy is him having his own control over the alien. Showing him who he’s dealing with. He can’t do that if he succumbs to his charms and spills down his throat.
Lex puts his hand on Ultraman’s shoulder, still staring up. Through heavy, labored breaths he says, “Take off your clothes.”
Ultraman’s hands remove themselves from Lex’s hips and begin stripping himself of his clothes. Lex wants to watch, yes, maybe more than anything else he’s doing tonight, but he has to have a little self control. He has to do something else first, too.
Lex stands from the chair, legs weak. He examines the bruises left on his hips from Superman’s fingers and smirks. Nobody else can have this. Only Lex Luthor can have these marks from the Man of Steel.
He buttons his shirt again before retrieving his tie from the floor. It’s a superiority thing, he’s aware, but that reality doesn’t diminish his satisfaction at seeing Superman stripped before him as he remains slightly more presentable than the hero of Metropolis.
As he fastens his tie around his neck, he looks over to where Ultraman stands at the ready. Lex hadn’t very closely examined his physique when he’d first cloned him, but now he’s beginning to regret that. He’d do anything to have this sight in his life as often as possible.
Superman stands across from Lex in his office, clothes discarded on the floor. He’s beautiful. Disgusting. His soft, curious eyes meet Lex’s with a gaze so similar to the real Superman Lex wants to throw something at him. Lex has never felt more aroused nor resentful than he does at this moment.
Lex examines his body with hungry eyes, his gaze dragging over his collarbone, his chest, his abs, and the space between his legs where the most perfect cock he’s ever seen rests. Lex is by no means small, but his length seems minuscule compared to the Kryptonian’s size. He stands straight, obedient and willing to do whatever Lex wants. It’s everything he’s dreamed about for years.
His smirk tilts disappointedly as he thinks, a shame it’s just a clone. But it doesn’t matter. If this is the only way Lex can have Superman, then so be it.
Lex walks forward, watching Superman’s eyes follow him. He grabs his drink from the side table and sips it slowly, still raking his eyes up and down the Kryptonian’s body. Only he gets to see this.
He sets his drink down. Without Lex having to say anything, Superman walks forward. Lex’s hands meet Superman’s hips, bringing him closer as the alien puts his own hands on either side of Lex’s neck.
Lex leans against Superman, letting his lips ghost over his neck. He feels the giant shiver under his touch, and smirks against his skin. Lex bites at his neck just to be perverse, reveling in the way he responds to his touch.
“Lex,” Superman says shakily, his voice low and raw. Lex hums softly, holding back a groan.
Luthor’s lips find Superman’s as he grows needy from the alien’s hands on his neck. The kiss is slow, but no less desperate. Lex is sure Superman can taste the need on his breath. He squeezes Superman’s hips, shoving his tongue into the other’s mouth as it opens in a gasp. Lex would be lying if he said simply making out with Superman wasn’t the thing he thought about the most.
He’s not one to make noise, but the way Superman’s mouth moves against him—wet and starving—makes small, high pitched noises erupt from his throat. They don’t make it far before they’re swallowed by Superman, though.
Lex’s hips press forward in desperation, his cock rutting against Superman’s muscular thigh. Superman’s own length digs into the crease of his leg, forcing a soft moan from Lex’s mouth. His hands grip Superman’s hips like a vice, his nails digging half moons into his sides. (Realistically, none of the marks he leaves will be there as soon as he loosens his grip, but it’s nice to imagine, isn’t it?)
All Lex wants to do is rub their dicks together like there’s no tomorrow, but he’s better than that. He’s better than Superman. Lex has no doubt that a desperate creature like him would be pathetic enough to succumb to the urge. Lex has some class, at least.
Lex knows there’s no class in what he’s about to do, though.
Lex pulls off of Superman slowly. He savors the way the alien licks his beaten lips for any trace of the billionaire. His cheeks are flushed a nice pink, and his stupid doe eyes are blown wide with pleasure. Lex wants to eat him alive. Instead, between heavy breaths, he keeps his hands on Superman’s hips and walks them towards his desk.
Lex takes a hold of Superman’s shoulders, and turns him around. His desk is relatively clear of supplies, but a few stray pens go flying when he shoves Superman down, bending him over the desk. He nearly groans at the sight; Superman bent in half, ready to take him, strong hands gripping the edge of the desk like he needs it to survive. Lex severely underestimated how satisfied he would feel when he got to do this. He also underestimated how painfully aroused he would be.
“Listen, Ultraman,” Lex says quietly. “You’re going to moan for me. I want you to be loud and convincing, okay?”
“Lex,” Superman says immediately. His breathing is hard enough that Lex wonders if he’s going to overheat. He’s convincing, all right.
Lex shifts forward, drinking up Superman’s soft, weak noises as he grinds against his ass. Not enough to give him the release he needs—he’s not even inside yet—but just enough to make him beg. The hand that isn’t firmly pressed against Superman’s back wraps around to caress his inner thigh, teasingly close to where Superman needs the touch most. He whimpers under Lex’s touch, sending a shiver up his spine. He has the Man of Steel laid out before him, ready to take all he has to give. It’s a genuine dream for Luthor. He nearly finishes on the spot.
His fingers gently massage his thigh, making Superman whine. Lex really outdid himself with this clone.
His hand moves away from between Superman’s legs, and instead snakes up his perfect torso to hold three fingers to his mouth. Lex raises an eyebrow expectantly as the clone meets his eye. Another moment goes by, and he’s afraid he’s going to be forced to spell it out for him, until two lips part to take his fingers between them.
Superman’s tongue slides over his fingers, hot and slick. It disgusts Luthor how needy and pathetic the alien really is. If people were to see how dirty and whorish he could really be, then he’d never be Metropolis’ golden boy as he is now.
Lex is aware he’s thinking all of this about a clone, but he’s really not all that convinced that the real Superman is that far off from the alien he has bent before him.
He takes his time as his fingers retract from Superman’s mouth, watching the slight shift in expression. Lex’s lips curl into a smile. He can do whatever he likes.
“Lex…” Superman says, panting. Lex delights in seeing him like this: disheveled and weak. His for the taking.
Lex brings his fingers to rub at Superman’s hole, slowly and deliberately. Superman shivers beneath him, eyes closed.
Lex is a billionaire, yes, and he has control over some of the most powerful weapons in the world. But nothing he’s done in his lifetime has ever felt as rewarding as this. He’s never felt as powerful as he does now.
His fingers slide inside the alien slowly, stretching him open. He clenches around Lex’s fingers, making him shudder. His free hand grabs Superman’s thigh, forcing him nearer. It’s a blur for Lex. He feels drunk on power and ecstasy. He moans involuntarily, curling his fingers inside the other.
When his fingers curl and hit a spot inside of Superman, he moans loud enough for the whole office to hear. Lex would feel bad using the clone for this if he were any better of a man. But he needs this.
Lex lets his fingers brush the spot repeatedly until Superman is a shaking mess beneath him. He’s at Lex’s mercy when he grinds back against his fingers, begging for release.
“Lex,” he whines, worsening Lex’s already painful erection. He looks ready to collapse. When the rocking of his body becomes more erratic and desperate, Lex quickly retracts his fingers. He whines again, frustrated, “Lex…”
“I know, gorgeous,” he says, wiping his fingers off on his rumpled dress shirt. “But I intend to drag this out a bit longer. I’m not done with you yet.”
It’s getting harder to put any disdain for the alien into his actions. How is he supposed to feel anything but desperate need with the alien splayed out like this, hole pulsing and ready for him?
Lex grabs Superman by the hips, guiding himself carefully until he’s lined up. He doesn’t warn the alien before he shoves in, hissing from the burn. Superman has a similar reaction, yelping at the sudden intrusion. It's punishment. With his hips flush against Superman’s ass, Lex groans.
“I know,” he says through gritted teeth. “But you deserve this. You’ve ruined my life.”
“I hate you,” Superman says, face pressed against the desk. Lex flashes a smile, although the alien can’t see him. That’s what he likes to hear.
His thrusts begin slowly, experimenting with how much the Man of Steel can take. Lex hears him taking deep, calming breaths and decides to speed it up. There’s no reason to be gentle with him. He’s a menace. An it.
He moves quicker, messier, but still calculated. He scrapes his nails against the skin of Superman’s thighs and relishes in his gasps of air. Lex can hear his desk creaking with the weight of his thrusts, pressing Superman against it. Superman must be painfully hard now, too, but Lex has no intention of letting him get off for the time being. This is his pleasure, not the alien’s.
Lex moves his hand back to Superman’s mouth, and shoves his fingers in again. There’s no practical reason for him to be doing this, but the vibrations of Superman’s whining around his fingers makes his hips jerk forward. He removes his fingers, letting them catch on the Kryptonian’s mouth. Lex drags his fingernails down Superman’s back, watching the marks disappear as he trails down back to grab at his ass, earning a gasp. Lex suddenly remembers he’s fucking a god. He has to bite his lip to suppress a shameful noise.
He can feel Superman’s walls clenching around him, and he puts his energy into memorizing the sensation. He doesn’t intend on forgetting this night. He gasps in rhythm with his thrusts, drinking up Superman’s echoing whines as he drives deeper into him.
“Lex, please,” Superman moans, head tilted at a painful angle against the desk. His eyes meet Lex’s, half closed and tearing up. It’s enough to make Lex groan in response. Even his fantasies had never created something as beautiful as what he sees now.
Lex ignores Superman’s pleas and continues his frenzied thrusting. He pulls back so that only the head of his cock rests inside before slamming back inside and watching the Kryptonian yelp. One of his hands caresses up his back, teasing him before burying itself in his hair. He tugs back, imagining the burn that must be coursing through his scalp. Again, he pulls out almost fully before slamming back in. Again. Again.
Superman whines again, louder, and Lex no longer feels his grip on his restraint. His hand grasps the alien’s hair harder, and he begins angling his hips with each thrust. He knows he’s hit the right spot when Superman nearly yells, his voice muffled against the desk. Lex throws his head back in delight, mindlessly moving his hips back and forward, trying to hit the same spot and get the same noise again. He feels Superman clench around him with each sloppy thrust, the movement being punctuated with a gasp and a high-pitched moan from the Kryptonian.
Lex can’t help but think he needs a couch in his office. He’s going to do this again, and he knows it would be better getting to look at Superman falling apart beneath him. He’ll figure that out later.
Superman cries out against the desk, his hands gripping the edge for dear life. Lex, in a moment of tender weakness, snakes his hand down to hold the alien’s. His knuckles are white against the desk, and Lex knows that there’ll be a mark when he’s done. Another wave of heat hits him when he realizes how strong the being beneath him is. He has full power over the strongest metahuman to ever step foot on Earth. The Man of Steel would bend to his every word.
His hand leaves Superman’s hand with urgency, and instead goes to Lex’s mouth. He spits on it, his breath coming out in gasps. Superman feels Lex’s thrusts becoming weaker and less focused, and he turns his head to look at him. Lex smiles again, watching the alien’s eyes follow his hand down between his legs.
Superman groans at the promise of touch, and Lex can’t help but echo him. He’d consider this a guilty pleasure if he felt any guilt for driving into this freak of nature.
Lex swirls his thumb over Superman’s tip, gathering precome and spreading it down the rest of his cock. He jerks his hand up and down Superman’s length with a fervor, feeling his own desperation grow. Superman lets out a choked moan with each pump of Lex’s hand, his head falling and his hips moving uselessly through the pleasure. Lex can feel himself growing close, too. It’s a kind of pleasure he hasn’t felt in years—maybe ever.
“Beg for me,” Lex grunts. This is his enemy that he’s drilling into. He needs to make him feel as pathetic as Lex knows he is.
His thrusts are less in time now, and he feels the heat in his gut coiling and spiraling beyond control. Superman cries out under him, precome spilling out of him. Lex moves even faster, trying to get his name on the alien’s tongue.
“Lex, Lex, please,” the alien moans, tears falling from his perfect eyes. Lex feels his world falling apart. “I need it. I need you.”
With a few more frantic jerks of Lex’s hand, Superman lets out a strangled moan, spilling over Lex’s knuckles. Lex keeps moving, feeling Superman’s walls clench around him, the rest of his body spasming weakly.
“I hate you,” Superman whines, and suddenly Lex is finishing recklessly inside the Man of Steel and seeing white. His orgasm rattles through him like he’s never felt before, pulling the breath from his lungs as he groans. He falls forward slightly, steadying himself with his hands on Superman’s hips.
“Holy shit,” Lex says, breathless. He lets his head drop, trying to regain his composure. He replays the scene in his head, chewing on his lip. He just did that. The haze fogging his brain fades slowly, letting reality hit him. He just… did that.
Lex pulls out slowly, ignoring the stinging of exiting Ultraman. The clone shudders from the loss of contact, but otherwise doesn’t move from his spot on the desk. Lex wipes his hand on his already ruined dress shirt, and tries to catch his breath. He backs away from Ultraman, feeling repulsion and satisfaction mixing in his head. He averts his eyes from the come still dripping from Ultraman and instead turns his attention to redressing. He has a reputation to uphold. He’s Superman’s enemy, not his fuckbuddy.
Fuck, that wasn’t even Superman. He’d just had sex with a clone of the man—the alien he hates. Lex is very far gone.
Lex finds a tissue and cleans himself off, not risking another glance at Ultraman in the fear of getting hard again.
He clears his throat and says, over his shoulder, “Go ahead and clean yourself off. When you’re finished, get your suit back on and… stay put here until we need you.”
Ultraman doesn’t respond, but Lex hears him following the instructions out of view. He picks up his boxers from the floor and pulls them back on, followed by his dress pants. He looks down at his ruined shirt, frowning.
Although Lex knows nobody would dare question him, he still grabs a blazer from the back of a chair and buttons it, taking care to cover the white swipes from where his hand was cleaned.
He takes a deep breath, surveying himself in the reflection of the floor to ceiling windows. He looks put together and powerful—but he doesn’t feel that way. He feels like his entire life has fallen apart, and he doubts he’ll ever feel as powerful as he did with his dick inside of Superman’s ass.
He clears his throat again, trying to clear the thought from his head for the time being. Maybe he can have the real thing soon. If his techniques tonight were this effective on a near-perfect clone of Superman…
He’ll just have to test it out.
Lex turns and leaves his office, straightening his tie as the door closes behind him.
His footsteps echo the halls and are soon accompanied by a lighter pair trailing behind him. Lex straightens the cuffs of his shirt and turns to face the Engineer, keeping a neutral expression.
“Hello, Angela,” Lex slows his steps, gesturing for her to join him. “You’re up late.”
The Engineer falls into step beside him and says, “How was the testing, Lex? Is Ultraman functioning correctly?”
Lex gives a charming smile. “Everything is above bar.”
“Do we know how we’re going to defeat Superman?”
Lex Luthor hums thoughtfully. He says, “I have a few ideas.”