Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sharp nails dug into his back, warm, panting breaths mingled together, as hot skin pressed hot skin. Lex’s lips met Superman’s thick neck, teeth biting into the flesh like a starving man reaching for his first bite of food in weeks. The sound, the soft wince of pain, sent a rush through Lex’s eager body. Superman is strong, a pillar of immunity and invulnerability, unable to be hurt or killed, and here that same creature is; fists curled into silky bedsheets, sweating and whining like a child with a scraped knee, showing a side of the hero everyone adores that no one else has seen but Lex. He revels in it, that weakness slipping through and only revealing itself to him. The way his face contorts when Lex slows or quickens, how his muscled back arches when he’s teased. Their lips clash, teeth clacking harshly, rough and overloaded with desire.

Never in his life or career has Superman been rendered truly speechless, pushed beyond his limits to a babbling mound of nothingness, or pleasure. The way Lex’s hands press over his thighs and stomach, keeping him locked on a bed far too expensive to be riddled and squelched by their activities. He whines and cries, grasps mindlessly towards whatever is closest to hold onto. Drool slides down his chin and neck as his tongue pushes into Lex’s mouth, but neither seems to care. Their bodies are intertwined in such a perfect way that they can only focus on that, each other, and the heat that forms in the room.

The night drags on but Lex likes it that way, he planned it that way, keeping this alien he despises and lusts for at the brink of orgasm for as long as he pleases. Stopping and listening to him beg for more, for Lex to continue. Begging like a pathetic street rat, and Lex loves it that way. Heat swelled in his body at seeing such a figure of hope in the public eye crumple when Lex touched him the right way. He never knew how filling it would be to watch Superman moan his name against his chest, shaking as he finished, writhing in his grip. That image, that beautiful expression on his red face, will be forever engraved in Lex’s mind. Only he knows what kind of whore lies beneath those ridiculous red trunks and cape. He will never get enough, never have enough time to lick up the sight.

Lex awoke the next morning to yellow sunlight gleaming through the picturesque clean windows of his stupidly expensive home. The warmth of the night before had left him, blankets curled around his body the only thing fending off the cold. He sat up, expecting to feel the weight of a body next to him, but the bed was empty. No trace, like the thing he slept with last night hadn’t even been there. Like he imagined it. Lex made an face he’d never made before, embarrassment sliding up his throat, an emotion all but foreign to him.

That was the first, and only, time Lex Luthor would ever do his own laundry.

He spent the day holed in his office, doing work remotely and silently. Shame coddled his every move, every thought, every word. If his mind strayed for even a moment Lex found himself red faced and hot, mortified and horny all at once. That “night”, that wretched dream, brought about the slow cracking of his composure. Lord help him if he runs into Superman again any time soon, he wasn’t sure he could maintain enough self respect to not throttle the things throat; or worse, not pop a boner.

The door squeaked opened, he’d have to fix that. “Mr. Luthor?” The words snapped Lex out of his thoughts. He never let himself get caught up in daydreams, much less about a goddamn alien, he was truly being mentally ruined by this thing. A part of him wished it was physical-

“Mr. Luthor,” the words came again, “You have a visitor.” His assistant took a step in.

Lex waved his hand dismissively, not bothering to look up. “I’m busy. You know I don’t have time for impromptu meetings.” He irritatedly tapped a pen, which he wasn’t using at all, on the table in quick rhythm.

She opened the door further. “I’m afraid it’s very important, sir. He won’t take no for an answer.”

Lex sighed rather loudly, hoping maybe the visitor would take a hint and leave, and looked up, only to be met with the last face on earth he wanted to see. He paled, a reaction Superman would assume was brought on by fear, and he would be wrong. His throat tightened like a vice around whatever words he wanted to cough up. Lex glanced to the door, his assistant was already gone. I’m fucked, he thought.

Superman leaned over Lex’s desk, biceps flexing beneath the cloth of his suit. Lex crossed his legs quickly. Purposeful or not they caught the attention of his eye and, frustratingly, his dick.

Flashes of that godawful dream sped through Lex’s brain and it took everything in him to hold eye contact, which admittedly was a whole other challenge entirely.

“Luthor,” his voice was controlled, a stark contrast to how Lex would’ve preferred to hear it; shaky and breathless. “Since when were you out of Belle Reve?”

The chair tilted smoothly as Lex leaned back in it, forcing a tight grin onto his face. He’d been practicing for years, he can manage to stay collected. “I see you came through the door this time instead of deciding to ruin my windows again. That’s about the most human thing you’ve ever done.” Lex twirled the pen in his fingers. His gaze locked on the aliens eyes and definitely only his eyes and not the way Superman’s chest puffed with each angry breath.

Superman pushed himself off the desk, ignoring the loud screech it made as it slid two inches across the floor. “Answer me, Lex.” He didn’t yell, he was much quieter than when that stupid dog had gone “missing”. “When did you get out?” He was almost pacing around the room, it was amusing to see the flush on his face.

Maybe Lex would finally get the chance to see that creature snap, strangle him and yell into his face. He firmly rested his hands in his lap. “That’s two different questions, Superman,” the things hands twitched, clenched, and Lex’s heart stuttered like a teenager.

His hair was more unruly than usual, a dangerous sight unbeknownst to him. “You don’t plan on answering either, do you.” The words, although a question, came out as a statement. Superman didn’t have the energy nor time to deal with Lex’s antics, he knew he was only wasting his breath. “How much did you blow bribing your way out?” he stopped in front of the desk, keeping distance this time. Their eyes met again and for a moment Superman swore he saw pure fear trickle down Luthor’s face.

Lex nearly choked, freezing like someone poured ice water down his back. “I beg your pardon?” The words left him the moment he realized. Money. Blowing money. Even the smartest man in the world’s composure buckles under the weight of unbridled, barely contained lust. His mind leaves him, shoving the image of Superman looking down at him with half closed eyes into his brain. Lex had to avert his gaze, face regaining color in the worst way possible, but this time, shit, it was in front of him and obvious. He stifled whatever embarrassing noise that slipped through with a clearing of the throat. “You mean to tell me you think I bribed my way out of jail? You hurt my character with accusations like that.”

“Look, I get that you don’t like me,” at least he’s smart enough to recognize that, “but that shit you pulled this morning-“

“What shit?” Lex leaned forward in his chair.

Superman sighed exasperatedly, hands placed on his hips like a disappointed mother.

Lex didn’t like how that gaze made him feel.

“I know you were behind that bus crash, alright? You want me dead, that’s fine. I obviously can’t change your mind.”

Lex scoffed, ignoring the now blazing glare he was being given.

“But you can’t involve innocent people in your petty attempts to get my attention.” Superman jabbed his finger against the wooden desk, a move that would easily break a normal humans bone. “That is where I draw the line, Luthor.”

The desk slid two inches back the other way when Lex stood, the urge slap the shit out of him and push him against wall bubbling up in his chest. “Petty attempts to get your attention! That’s ridiculous. I don’t need your attention, Superman. The fact that you assume I think of you so often is…disgusting.” not to mention embarrassingly true. “You’re full of yourself.” I want you to be full of me, Lex stumbled, blinked hard, and waved the thought away.

Superman rubbed the bridge of his nose like Lex was giving him a headache. “Obviously, I can’t control you, or make you be…nicer.”

Despite himself, that stung. Maybe stinging was the wrong feeling, but his stomach ached at the word. Nicer, it was bullshit. You don’t get status and money from being nice. And yet Superman stood like a walking paradox to his own beliefs in front of him.

“But can you- please,” he nearly begged and Lex felt his knees buckle, “keep Metropolis out of whatever it is you have against me? Out of this- us?”

Us. There was an us?

No, there wasn’t. Not the kind that Lex ever would want, or picture, or fantasize about. There could be an us, maybe. If he learned to swallow his pride.

Lex nearly threw up. Us.

There was an it and a him. An alien creature with a secret agenda against the world and a billionaire with a vendetta against kindness personified. There was no us and there wouldn’t be.

“You ask that of me like we’re-“ the word ‘friends’ almost got the best of his unfocused tongue. He, on a rare occasion, struggled to think. If only Superman knew the absolute nuclear bomb he had dropped into Lex’s brain and the scattering of thoughts like aimless, doomed civilians. “Acquaintances.” He corrected himself.

Superman’s body almost seemed to slump, broad shoulders falling slightly. He leaned against the desk with one hand, far too close to Lex’s personal space.

He could smell the aftershave and sweet cologne wafting around them. Superman had to shave and he wore cologne. God dammit.

A very minuscule part of him had hoped, maybe, that Lex would at least try to hear him out. At least give him the promise of not killing anyone in his way. But that was a laughable thing. “Lex, please.”

He bit the tip of his tongue hard enough to cut through it, holding his breath. Lex didn’t even know Superman’s real name and yet here he was pretending like they were on first name basis. It was unfair.

The alien opened his lips to continue before Lex held up a hand, silencing him easily. God dammit, he was obedient, too. “I-…due to the overwhelming negativity that’s currently directed towards me, thanks to you, I can’t risk further damaging my reputation while in the midst of repairing it. You’re lucky, Superman, that I have a business to run.”

For a moment Superman smiled, actually smiled, and it was for Lex Luthor. That hope he had for the billionaire, previously spit on and squashed out, relit itself instantly. He was almost too aware of his own naïveté but that didn’t stop him.

“Do not mistake this as a truce, an olive branch, or, god forbid, an act of kindness.” The word burned his tongue like acid as he spoke. Lex held eye contact, steady, finally having become accustomed to the undeniably beautiful creature, and its breathtaking smile, in front of him. “It’s just business, and it is temporary.” Briefly he allowed his gaze to falter, a soft moment, before snapping it back up to Superman’s eyes. “Am I clear?” Lex adjusted his sleeve cuffs, he was not fidgeting.

Superman considered extending his hand, shaking on it, but there was no part of Lex Luthor that would willingly want to touch him. The oblivious idiot. So he nodded instead, grinning charmingly in a way that made Lex want to slap and kiss that look off his face till neither of them could breathe.

“Do me a favor, since I am for you, and make it a habit to come through the door from now on. I can’t afford (yes he can) to replace glass every time you barge in here having a tantrum.” Lex sat back down in his stupidly expensive chair, rotating it gently as he watched the alien. If Lex could bend reality to his will, and he practically could in some cases, Superman would stay. For what, he wasn’t quite sure. Part of him just wanted to continue looking, scanning his eyes and maybe even his fingers over every part of that horrendously gorgeous figure. No one should ever be able to look like that and get away with it. Lex was disgusted with himself.

Superman opened the door, half laughing, and god what a heart-stopping sound it was. “I’ll keep my promise if you keep yours.”

Before Lex could even process the childish usage of a word like ‘promise’, it made them sound like school children swearing they’ll be best friends forever, Superman was gone. He took a long, gasping breath, body loosening slowly. His muscles ached from prolonged tension.

A seed had planted itself in his mind among the ruins of that bomb. The beginning, maybe, of a something. It wasn’t that, he knew, but it felt like it. And maybe a part of him hoped.

Nicer, Superman had said.

Lex stared out the window, brain now perfectly fine and teeming with thoughts.

Chapter Text

“I’m not joking, Lois. It was seriously weird.” Clark had repeated himself probably three times by this point. He crossed his arms, running a hand over his chin. He replayed the interaction with Lex over and over again, analyzing the memory carefully. The way he stared him down with such intensity, Clark had never been looked at that way before, especially not by Lex Luthor.

Beneath the buzz of the Daily Planet their words fell through, the conversation was private enough. Though Clark caught himself glancing around in case someone was eavesdropping. His current biggest fear, and there weren’t many, was turning around and seeing Lex’s glare staring right back at him. Although that was silly, he felt his chest ache anxiously at the very idea.

Lois chuckled, still not buying it. “I know. You’ve mentioned it several times now.” She took a sip of her coffee, face tightening in a grimace. She looked up at Clark who was tapping his foot and darting his eyes around like an addict. “For all you know he could be back to his antics by tomorrow. Sooner, if he wanted!” Her computer dinged with a notification, snagging her away from the conversation.

“I know, but get this— he promised,” Lois eyed him doubtfully. “That’s the thing! It’s been, what, a week?” he adjusted his glasses, “and nothing. Not a- not a suspicious shift on social media, another bus crash, or anything like that.” Clark looked like he was losing his mind, earning a cocked eyebrow from Jimmy across the room. He was being way too loud. Great job at staying discreet, Clark. One day his cover would get blown and it would be in the most embarrassing, stupid way possible. “If he wanted to, he would! If- if Lex got the sudden urge to plow down a portion of the city just so I’d show up and argue with him, he’d spend that money in a second.” Clark raised his hands up, sliding his chair back to his desk. “That’s all I’m saying- are you even listening to me?”

Lois hummed, lips pursed, head half-turned but attention fixed on her screen. “Yeah, yeah. Luthor wants to plow you, or something.” She muttered, completely focused on typing.

Clark blinked hard, neck feeling very itchy and hot. “What?” He spoke much louder than needed, the room silenced briefly and he flushed; chatter sparked up again far too late for his comfort. “That isn’t at all what I said!” He planted his face in his palms, shoving his glasses up and meshing his finger into his eyes.

She spun her chair and finally looked at him, clearly not a single word from the last thirty seconds had registered in her mind. “Sorry?” she asked. “Sorry,” she said again, “I got forwarded an email about a possible interview.”

Clark groaned into his hands. Despite the utter confusion Lex Luthor was causing him, his journalistic interest was piqued. And Clark had no problem admitting he was a tad nosy. “For who?” He peeked out between his fingers.

A tiny smile broke out on Lois’ lips. “I’ll send it to you.” She went back to typing, ignoring Clark’s second, even more distraught groan. Although she didn’t say it, Lois believed him. If Lex was acting “weird” enough for Clark to notice, and he doesn’t notice much, then it had to be bad. She’d met the billionaire once at a press event and she knew the kind of flare he had in his gaze, but Clark seemed to describe the look more akin to a burning city behind his eyes.

He checked his email, skimming over the words.

We’re reaching out on behalf of our CEO Lex Luthor. We would like to offer one of your employees a chance to interview Mr. Luthor and get exclusive information on his upcoming project.

The employee is yours to choose, we trust you to send someone competent.

If interested, please respond to this email with the name and contact information of the journalist so we can reach out and schedule accordingly.

Thank you,

— LuthorCorp

The email was simple, Clark wasn’t terribly interested anymore. Superman was the one Lex had problems with, not Clark. He wanted to keep them as separate as possible. “That’s great.” he said, half-assed. “Uh…” he read over it again slowly.

Lois had the tip of her pen between her teeth, thinking, as she tapped her nails on the keyboard. “I think it’s a great opportunity, don’t you?” She asked, adding far too much sweetness in her voice. When she turned to Clark, her smile only got bigger.

Clark shrugged. “It’s a puff piece. They want us to bump up his reputation. We ask about his new project, compliment his genius and love for the community, and everyone praises Lex Luthor again.” He smiled softly in disbelief at how desperate they seemed to be to get everything back to normal. The world can’t spin if Lex isn’t the one pushing it with his finger. “But you knew that.”

She shrugged back. “I think that maybe Luthor is changing…for the better. Maybe this project of his is a real attempt at getting better.”

“Right,” Clark said. “Because you weren’t just calling me crazy five minutes ago.” His head fell back and he sighed, spinning in his chair.

Lois chuckled, rolling the pen in her mouth. She leaned forward and began typing something out.

“Who should we send?” he asked, vision blurring as he spun. Despite what people might think, yes, Superman can get dizzy. “Jimmy would be good. I think Luthor would hate him, though.” Clark laughed at the thought. He looked at Lois still typing with a grin on her face, and raised an eyebrow. “Lois?” He sat up, straightening, and checked the email again. The employee is yours to choose.

He didn’t get an answer but he knew for a fact that she heard him this time. That little grin hadn’t left her yet, and Clark could sense it, she was plotting. It was written all over her face and he was wracked with sudden nerves.

Lois looked at him, rolling her eyes at the panic filtering in on his face. “You know, Clark,“ she started, and couldn’t even start to finish before getting so rudely interrupted.

“You’re not sending me.” Clark said in a tone so serious he shocked himself.

“Oh, we’re sending you.” She moved out of the way, showing off her computer screen. Lois had already sent an email to Perry, suggesting Clark as a possible candidate for the Luthor interview. Perry had responded almost instantly, agreeing.

Clark’s heart dropped. Under any other circumstances, as Clark or Superman, he would not mind being around Lex. The guy sucked, that was a given, but Clark tried not to hate people or purposely avoid them. Staying on good terms with people, even people like Lex, was a permanent goal of his. But this was different, Lex was borderline kind to him during their last meet. He agreed to, temporarily, stop causing destruction. Clark didn’t believe it would work at the time, his begging truly coming as a last resort to keep Metropolis safe, and it had worked. Clark Kent, or Superman really, had convinced Lex Luthor to do something. And it made him never want to see the man again, it was unnaturally out of character. “You can’t! I can’t be around him!” He protested, albeit very quietly. He glanced at Jimmy who luckily had stopped paying attention, if he even was in the first place.

An eavesdropper, yes, but still respectful. And Clark’s hushed whispering had made it harder for him to lean in without being obvious.

Lois made a sound, shrugging again. “Actually, you, Clark Kent, can be around him, because Clark Kent has no connections to Lex Luthor.“ She stood up and walked to his desk, hovering beside him. She exited out of the invitation email from LuthorCorp and refreshed the page. A new email had already appeared in his inbox. She ignored the soft sound of wheels turning as his chair slid farther away slowly.

Clark Kent,

We reached out to your boss, Perry White, to see about scheduling an interview. He suggested you as an option for the report.

They listed possible dates and times, what kind of questions were allowed and what weren’t, but Clark had stopped reading. “Lois, I can’t. I can’t get that- look out of my head. I don’t think you understand it. He was just so…off.” He was growing tired of reiterating it. There wasn’t anything he could do about it by now besides mentally prepare. Lex flashed in his mind again and his eyes glazed slightly as he thought about it.

She placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. “Are you sure that you weren’t the weird one?” She asked, tone teetering on critical.

Clark’s brows furrowed. He was the weird one? Lex was the one staring at him like he hung the sun and also wiped out humanity at the same time. Clark was just…being Superman. To be fair, Lex hated Superman, but Luthor’s stare radiated hatred paired with a craving, perhaps. Clark didn’t like to think about it, shivers running down his spine. “What? No, it was definitely him.” He closed out the email, not caring to read the rest.

“And you’re sure?” She asked again. “How do you know it wasn’t you? Maybe seeing Lex Luthor again right after he got out of jail following what happened the last time you saw each other was too much for you to handle.” Lois suggested thoughtfully, though Clark could’ve done without it. “How do you know you weren’t the one making it weird?”

That was a terrifyingly realistic point and he hated it. Had Lex always looked at him that way? Spoken to him with that soft rage in his voice? “I wasn’t!” Clark’s voice died down halfway through speaking, needing desperately to go unnoticed by his workplace. His face was red enough without another deafening silence and onslaught of stares. He breathed heavily, conflicted. “I don’t know, I could’ve been. But it couldn’t have been just me.” He took off his glasses, tilting his head down and pinching the bridge of his nose. It hurt to think, to play back their interaction for the millionth time. Lex was acting strange whether Lois believed him or not. Clark thought deeply about that memory every night since it happened. The tiny almost-smile Lex wore as he left had stuck with him. And he listened to him. The idea that maybe Lex Luthor was actually trying to change was like gasoline to the small fire of hope he had.

“I don’t think it matters too much, farm-boy, because it looks like you’ll be interviewing Lex Luthor.”

Clark slung his bag off his shoulder and fell onto the couch. He ran a hand down his face, completely stumped. This was happening and there was nothing he could do. He was going to need to interview Lex Luthor and make him come off like a normal, well adjusted man who didn’t have a racial bias against metahumans, who didn’t try to start a war just to kill a man he had a grudge against, who wasn’t a billionaire who’s money he donated to charities was always suspiciously slightly less than what he announced was donated. A lovely weekend task. Clark had to email them back at some point otherwise Lois would hack into his computer and do it for him.

Lois.

His stomach lurched remembering it. They had split in the months after the Boravia incident and Clark didn’t know how to feel. It was a mutual decision, life had been getting busier and busier. Apparently trying to balance a job, a relationship, and a secret identity wasn’t easy in the long run. “Maybe in a few years we can try again,” Lois had said, and Clark had agreed. Thinking about both Lois and then Lex and how everything was just weird all around and every way he looked made his skin crawl.

He grabbed his phone, stared at an empty email with the subject line “The Interview”, and muttered to himself. He typed, retyped, scrapped the email, started over, and repeated the cycle about three times before giving up for the night. After about six minutes, and a small glass of wine that would not help at all, he opened his phone to try again. It felt like he was desperate-texting an ex, only except it was Lex Luthor’s company email and they weren’t exes, and it was about a professional work related interview.

Clark felt a headache coming on and he clenched his eyes shut. “Gosh darn it,” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. He debated calling Jimmy for help but it’d be hard to keep his mouth shut about why he needed help. It took him a considerable amount of the night, a considerable amount of wine, before he figured out what felt appropriate to send. If he could get drunk it would have made the process so much easier.

He stared at the now completed email, an entirely different one than his original draft, and froze over the send button. He read it thrice to make sure he didn’t accidentally include that he was Superman and that he sensed the restlessness Lex had beneath his eyes whenever they would look at each other. Clark breathed out slowly and sent the email, immediately setting his phone down and going to bed.

He did not check his inbox first thing the next morning praying that there would be a cancellation response.

Chapter Text

The day had come, the long dreaded, throw up worthy day. Clark wasn’t ready but Clark Kent had to be. Clark Kent couldn’t be nervous, aside from the average amount of anxiety one would get from interviewing Lex Luthor. But he had to breathe and for someone who didn’t need to breathe he was having an awful hard time. He was being counted on, by LuthorCorp (which was scary enough) and by the Daily Planet (more scary), to get out a good article. Clark was great at writing, he knew how to hook a reader and make his work compelling. This felt like a much bigger challenge, not only because Clark Kent also happened to be Superman, and Superman himself was very iffy to be around Lex Luthor right now; but also because Lex Luthor stared at him in a very specific way that it made Clark’s mind stumble over itself. Clark was not an oblivious man, despite what Lex has said, and he could sense the undertones, the quiet thoughts running through Lex’s head. Mind reading might not be in Superman’s arsenal but everyone had intuition, and no one could miss the way Lex tried to subtly glance over his body. It made Clark tense with unease and interest. He’d be a liar if he said something didn’t stir inside him after their last encounter. Maybe Lois was right. Maybe he was the one making things weird.

Clark checked his watch, heart thumping obnoxiously loud. 2:38 PM, the interview was scheduled for 2:45. It had been a week after the original email was sent, two weeks after they had last seen each other. The LuthorCorp building was bigger when standing below it and not crashing through the windows. Clark felt a wave of unfamiliar intimidation smack him in the face. Twenty minutes had gone by of him purely standing outside stalling. With a deep inhale he walked through the very nice looking doors, practically bracing for the impact of a something to happen.

It was a whirlwind of assistants and people in clothing far too fancy for secretaries before he found himself in front of Luthor’s office door. He hesitated, raised his hand, decided maybe he’s not supposed to knock, dropped his hand, raised it again, before the door opened and there stood the man himself. Clark dragged his gaze to meet Lex’s, assuming the persona of a man who knew nothing about Lex that a regular person wouldn’t know. He smiled and didn’t get a smile back.

Lex Luthor looked crisp, clean, a threat; like he could cut Clark in half with a raised brow and the flick of an all commanding wrist. “Clark Kent I’m guessing? It’s a pleasure.” Lex assumed the persona of a man who cared, who wanted to please the public and repair the damage he had caused. His eyes flicked over Clark’s figure, taking in the curly hair and tie that could certainly be tighter. Nonetheless he look professional, prepared, and Lex disliked it. He held out his hand, movements sharp.

Clark took it and shook firmly like he wasn’t panicking. Their grip lingered on each other, it was solid. Of course the most successful CEO in the world had a perfect handshake. In the back of his mind Clark realized that he had never properly touched Lex apart from body slamming him into the wall. His hands were rough. “The pleasure is mine, Mr. Luthor.” He nodded kindly, gulping what he hoped was silently. The door opened wider and Lex stepped to the side, allowing Clark to come in. “I’ve always passed by the building but I’ve never been up close. It’s a nice place.” He spoke softly, wanting to start off on a good note.

Lex swallowed his scoff and sighed through his eye roll. Of course it is, who do you think I am? Lex cleared his throat. “Thank you.” It took everything in him not to spit the reply out. Very little besides the sight of Clark’s subtle, unintentional charm caused Lex to place him in the “irritating” box along with Superman. They were friends and therefore Clark was just as bad by association. The kind of person who would willingly want to interact with Superman as many times as Clark had was like slapstick comedy: stupid. The mere idea of degrading oneself so greatly to the point of befriending a thing like Superman felt like a wrench in Lex’s stomach. Clark sickened him already. “A drink? Water, tea?” Lex tried to be kind, his PR team would kill him otherwise.

Clark smiled again, even sweeter this time. “No, thank you.” he laughed quietly. They moved over to Lex’s desk which was now nicely back in place and, Clark noticed, bolted to the ground. He sat down and took another deep breath. “So,” he started, “Mr. Luthor.”

Lex sat across from him and rested his chin against his hands. “Mr. Kent.” he replied.

Clark had the fleeting thought that he looked like a supervillain mulling over his next evil plot. Then it hit him that he very well could be. He took a moment to regain his thoughts, the process not at all being helped by Lex’s unwelcoming stare. “We heard that you’ve started working on something new. Can you share a few more details about that?” His attitude shifted dramatically into one more focused. He watched Luthor carefully, pen ready to paper.

“Of course. That is why you’re here, after all.” Lex barely spoke in the tone of a joke and enjoyed the sight of Clark faking a laugh. “As for details,” he paused, pretended to think like he didn’t have exact orders on what to say. “I want to give back to the community. I spend a lot of my time…” He fluttered his hand around as a replacement for words, “running a business, you know the works.”

Clark did not, he was a journalist with a side gig as a superhero. He knew about as much as anyone else when it came to being a CEO. But he nodded like he understood and kept writing.

Lex continued on explaining processes, outlines, funding, and anything that sounded like it made sense when not delved into, all curtained by shadows of vague fluff-filled answers. The project was simply an attempt to win back attention in a more positive light this time. He had been free of handcuffs for a month and that was too much time for people to still be talking shit about him. His PR team, as well as some unnamed government officials, had all agreed it was time to fix Lex’s perception.

As a result he was sitting in front of Clark Kent, blabbering nonsense about a community project designed to make the citizens of Metropolis happy. He would donate to some local hospitals and child cancer research charities, make a few appearances in the next few weeks, give a speech or two, finish this godforsaken interview, and things would be normal. The hardest part so far was the interview.

Clark Kent was sweet and easy to talk to, a lot more than Lex had anticipated. He caught himself not minding the conversation at points and gagged internally. The man felt like saccharine in human form and Lex preferred his coffee black. There had to be more to him than simple charm, something else that clicked so well with interviewees. Although Clark was a great journalist, his questions sounded genuine compared to the thousands of others Lex had heard over the years, he was by no means famous in comparison to someone like Lois Lane. That was the part that had Lex stumped the most. How on earth did Clark Kent manage that many interviews with Superman? Old friendship? Luck? An affair? The last one sparked a grotesque feeling in him that he chose vehemently to ignore and Lex found himself enjoying the company even less.

“Mr. Luthor,” Clark’s voice felt much louder than it actually was. “How do you hope people will react? It’s a lot of money you’re pouring into this,” it wasn’t all that much, Clark knew that, but the man desperately needed to be seen as helpful. From his own desire to be liked, a little bit, but mostly because to puppeteer the world you need to have access to the strings—and if the strings don’t fucking like you then it’s really hard to grab them. Clark was throwing him a bone and he prayed that he would be not found out. He did not want to see Lex Luthor’s outrage at being pitied aimed at Clark Kent when Clark Kent, regular human being, can’t fight back.

He hummed like he was thinking, although he was this time. It was only a matter of time before Clark ran out of questions to ask but to much dismay he hadn’t yet. The guy was very good at this so Lex was tasked to come up with genuine responses for the last several minutes. “I think people will be thankful. For years I’ve been asked to use my wealth for more “important” things,” Lex nearly rolled his eyes before realizing that Clark was studying him with terrible intensity and he managed to catch himself, “so I’ve decided to do put my money to good used. I-“ he paused, the “h” caught in his throat. Lex Luthor did not hope and he did not intend to come across like so. He rerouted the sentence. “People will be thankful.” He repeated.

Clark smiled again and Lex sneered to himself. He took a moment to write down the final quote before looking up. “Thank you, Mr. Luthor. It’s been a lovely time talking to you.” He wasn’t lying. When not being yelled at or purposely irritated Lex came across much more reasonable.

Lex squinted, opened his mouth, closed it, and scowled. That was the last term he expected anyone to use when referring to him. “I’m sure.” He muttered. He felt that grotesque feeling return, filling his lungs instantly. Nothing about this man did Lex like. He was too cheerful, too pretty, too sweet, too absolutely perfect for a specimen like Superman to latch onto. The pieces clicked over the course of their conversation exactly why Superman would want to associate with a barely-anybody like Clark Kent and vice versa. They meshed well together, both too kind for their own good. Lex knew all the ins and outs about how he moved, thought, spoke, except for anything regarding his personal life. Now he had a window into it—an opportunity fitted with glasses that glinted in the afternoon light.

For a moment Clark stayed quiet, soaking in the feeling of Lex treating him like a person. It was weird again but now in a different sense of the word. The way Lex looked at Superman was not, and would not soon be, forgotten on Clark. It was different than the way Lex was looking at him now. Like he wasn’t worth his time, he was simply another thing he was waiting to be done with. It upset him to realize he disliked the idea of Lex thinking about him in that way and how he much preferred the Lex he was in front of two weeks ago. Even if that expression was filled with hatred it was at least filled with something. “You’re not how I thought you’d be, Mr. Luthor.” Clark said absentmindedly, half in an effort to continue the conversation. Truth be told it shocked him to hear Lex talk remotely positively about anything even if he still sounded like he was angry at the world for simply existing.

Lex got dragged out of deep thought and subsequently stunned into silence for a very long awkward moment. “I couldn’t have been that far from expectation.” he replied quietly. He noticed the sudden lack of scratching pen against paper and took the opportunity to question him back. “Can I ask you something? Off the record.”

Clark was just as stunned. Partially because he was not the person being interviewed and also he didn’t think Lex would ever be interested in learning about him. There was very little Clark Kent would have to offer socially to someone like Lex, or so he thought. “Uhm, sure.” The reply came out with more hesitance than he would’ve liked to show.

He paused, sweeping over Clark’s nervous face. “How do you continuously get Superman to agree to interviews?” He emphasized the word ‘you’ like it was something disgusting. “No offense, Mr. Kent,” Lex continued.

“You can call me Clark.” He tried to smile, working towards a first name basis in hopes that maybe Lex would stop pushing. No one had ever truly questioned it before and he never bothered planning a real response. Lois had warned him many times and she was very right as usual.

There was another uncomfortable pause, worse this time. “Clark.”

He said his name as if it were a slur and Clark began to think that maybe Lex’s racial bias wasn’t towards metahumans but was simply against anyone who wasn’t himself. His hand white-knuckled as he held his pen and ignored the way it teetered on splintering in his grip. A normal person can’t snap a pen in half.

“You’re not exactly well known.” People like Lex were well versed in the art of saying the rudest thing and placing a ‘no offense’ cherry on top. “I’m curious what Superman sees in you.” He added thoughtfully. His intention wasn’t to be mean—maybe a little bit—just to draw an answer out. If someone like Clark Kent could get Superman’s affection he shamefully wanted to know how. Not for reasons as juvenile as a crush but because…well, he didn’t exactly know why. Lex had thoroughly avoided thinking about it, the way his lips tingled when Superman glared at him or when they stood far too close for just an exchange of angry looks; feelings weren’t things he liked to deal with. It wasn’t attraction but maybe something similar. He almost entirely accepted the sexual aspect by now although he kept it private. Superman was sexually appealing, anyone could admit so, but Lex had refused to let it fester beyond that. As he waited for Clark to answer him, the poor thing looked embarrassed, his dislike of the man only grew. Surely a being as powerful as Superman would have better taste. Jealousy was an emotion he felt near constantly for years; he knew every uncomfortable twist and turn, how envy wrapped itself around someone’s mind and fed off their anger or, in few cases, love. He didn’t mind it, over the course of his life it became part of how he functioned as a man, but now it had mutated into something so much worse.

Clark adjusted his glasses, forced out an extremely sheepish chuckle, and looked down at his lap. “I mean, well- I guess-“ he stopped and bit back a sigh. After a moment he found the lie that he thought would be convincing enough. “We’ve been close friends for a long time.” Clark mentally slammed his head into the wall. Lex was smarter than that, way too smart to believe the bullshit Clark just stuttered out. He practically crossed his fingers beneath the desk like a kid making a wish.

Close friends. Sure. All Lex responded with was a simple hum. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “Right,” he spoke quietly, not an ounce of the disbelief in his voice was hidden. “Well, then. I won’t bother you with questions any longer, that’s your job.” Out of pure last minute sympathy he ignored the soft exhale of relief. “I’m sure you have other things to get to.” A beat passed before Lex held out his hand again with a fresh disdain for mandatory professionalism. “Have a fine day.” He spoke through gritted teeth and a half smile.

Clark took it once more as well and shook it. “You too.” He returned the smile as he always does. “Thank you again for your time.” He closed his notebook, ever more relieved that Lex decided not to question how quickly he wrote, and slid it into his bag. Clark stood and before he could register what was happening he was escorted hurriedly out of the room by a very fast-paced assistant. It failed to occur to him that Lex probably had multiple other meetings and that he would be quickly forgotten. That was a good thing, he decided forcibly, and he paid no mind to the way his heart lurched at the idea of being forgotten. Clark Kent had nothing to do with Lex Luthor beyond today and he would continue to have nothing to do with him. Superman was the one with all the problems surrounding their relationship.

Clark breathed out slowly as he exited the building. Could it be called that? They don’t have a relationship of course, in the traditional sense, and he might have imagined everything, but Lex was staring at his chest that day and he would swear on it.

Today marked two weeks since and Clark couldn’t stop thinking about it. It felt like he was a teenage boy who made eye contact with the pretty new girl that blushed when she saw him. It was embarrassing to admit, even if just to himself, that he was interested by a man like Lex Luthor. It grew like wisteria vines—the pesky, invasive kind that mooched off soil, grew without stopping, and were impossible to kill—until Lex was the only thing occupying his brain. What made it worse was that Luthor most likely was oblivious to the impact their last meeting had on Clark. There was a good and better chance that it completely left his mind the moment Superman left his office. When they first met he wasn’t fond of him; classic evil that he was raised to protect the world against, and that hadn’t changed. Lex was still a man no one wanted to willingly associate with, but there was a dim kindness in him. Clark had convinced himself of that.

His delusion—although he didn’t want to call it that—was only spurred on by the fact that no man who wanted to rule the world, kill anyone who disagreed with him, and make money off of other people suffering, would ever in his life agree to a compromise with the opposing force he claimed to hate with all his being. A part of Clark, despite everything he knew about Lex, was interested. What that interest was in full, what it meant, he was clueless to. But he wanted to find out. He wanted to dig into it and pull it apart, figure out what caused Lex’s subtle shift, and figure out why he was so damned interested in figuring it out.

Chapter Text

Lex Luthor was well aware of his overbearing fixation with Superman. It was intense and all consuming even before he sent him off to jail to fester in loathing. The only reason he didn’t get out sooner was for fear of suspicion. But now that he had met Clark Kent, the man who got exclusive and in depth interviews with Superman, that obsession had rooted itself even deeper in his gut.

It was sickening, useless, obnoxious, and so much more and so many feelings he hated trying to process. He wanted to wrap his hands around his own throat and cut those feelings off. They were becoming a bother, a distraction. He couldn’t work properly and lord knows to run a successful company you have to focus. Lex couldn’t, for the life of him, focus on anything but the image of Superman’s face pushed into a satin pillow.

He had shown up for the third time a month ago. The second time was merely an accidental dive through a window—which Lex didn’t bother to call him out for—mid fight. The third was most recent and Lex couldn’t stand that he’d sunk low enough to keep track. They managed to restrain from yelling at each other, it was nauseatingly civil in fact.

A knock rang out through Luthor’s silent office. He jumped, head snapping towards the door. No one had warned him someone would be coming, it was the middle of the night and Mercy had long gone home. He opened the door, half-expecting to see an intruder with a gun held to his face.

It was a much bigger annoyance than an intruder.

Superman stood, a serene expression on his stupid handsome face. “Luthor,” he said borderline sweetly, like he was happy to see him, “can we talk?”

Lex was shocked. He blinked slowly. “What?” He asked loudly before correcting his manners and allowing him inside. A million questions bumbled around in his mind. Why was Superman here? Had he done something he forgot about that pissed the alien off? Was the creature here to kill him? “So? You came to me, Superman. Talk.”

The only thing between them, physically at least, was Lex’s desk. Neither sat down.

The alien looked around the room. “How…are you?” Superman had asked. A bad ice breaker.

There was a very strange silence as Lex’s confusion kept on growing. “Since when did you care?” He asked back.

Superman tried to protest that he always cared, even about Lex, but he could was swiftly cut off.

“What are you doing here?”

Truthfully, Clark didn’t know. Maybe he just wanted to see Lex, see if anything would change. If things were still weird. “I wanted to uhm, check on…this.” He made an awkward gesture and noise, pointing between them. “Us.”

That word made Lex’s heart spasm and his collar felt tight. “Of course.” he muttered, looking down. Lex asked nothing more, forcing Superman to do all the heavy lifting in the conversation.

Except he didn’t know what else to say. He was bad at lying, especially to someone who could see right through him. “How was the interview with Clark Kent?” He tried to start something up, to have a casual conversation with the man.

Lex froze. The what?

The interview was still unpublished. Lex had never seen the alien look more panicked in his life before he stammered out the excuse “we’re just close friends”, exactly as Clark had. This only reaffirmed Lex’s suspicion.

Once they had clumsily shuffled to a new topic, Superman revealed the real reason he stopped by was to double check their deal out of fear that Lex would back out. Lex Luthor was many terrible things but he what he was not was a man who backed out of his word (until it benefited him to). All the check up did was reignite his unwavering lust that he was finally crawling out of and simultaneously drill into his brain that Superman thought lowly of him. Superman was worried, of course he would be, that Lex would chicken out of their agreement. He had to check on him like a child in timeout. It irritated Lex to no end, knowing exactly how Superman viewed him, and how negative it was. They were not equals in any shape or form. Lex may have the creature beat when it came to money and intelligence but that could only get you so far when matched to pure, unfiltered kind-heartedness and thighs that could crush someone’s head like a grape. Any part of Superman could crush someone’s head, actually, when Lex thought about it.

And dammit he thought about it a lot. Many late nights Lex found himself lying in bed on his side, shirt rustled, panting. One of those nights was now. Lex was too preoccupied by his dick twitching in his hand to acknowledge how pathetic he had become over the last few weeks. Sometimes he allowed himself to indulge in his lowly fantasies. He wanted Superman’s thighs wrapped around his waist, calloused hands grasping his shoulders and neck for support. He breathed in sharply through his teeth, fingers curling into the pillow beside his head, curses being whispered into the silent room. The dreams hadn’t failed to continue, worse—and Lex began not to mind them. It was sinful at best and hedonism at worst.

He knew everything about Superman, which made it far too easy to picture anything he wanted. If he could predict what the thing would do in a fight it wasn’t hard to transfer that knowledge to what he would do during sex.

If Superman couldn’t feel pain could he feel pleasure? If Lex ran his hands over the aliens thighs and pushed them apart would he blush? If he grabbed Superman’s hair and yanked his head back to cover his neck in a scandalous amount of hickeys would that draw out moans? If he dragged his tongue slowly over hard nipples would that make him shudder and gasp? If he fucked him, kissed him, held him, would he even be able to feel it? A disgustingly large part of Lex was desperate to find out. He wanted to push him up against a wall and bite him till he heard every possible noise that freak could make. He was standing on a slippery slope from carnal desire to intimacy.

He imagined Superman holding him by the waist and pulling him in for a kiss. One that would start out slow, kind even, the quietness of the room only broken by the occasional sigh between lips. They would stumble to the bed, haphazardly pulling off what felt like too much clothing. Superman’s blue eyes looked up at him, soft and pleading, while he whispered vile requests in Lex’s ear. Their lips met for a second time and so did the rest of their bodies, naked skin brushing naked skin.

Lex came with a hitched gasp and what he refused to confess was a moan. He didn’t even have to picture them properly fucking for him to finish, his cheeks flushed in embarrassment. His chest heaved unevenly, the temporary orgasm haze quickly dwindling. He sat up, scrubbed his hand over his face, and stared at his other, thoroughly sticky, hand. He scowled, stomach warm.

As the son of a rich man, and now being a rich man himself, Lex never bothered with chores. Dishes, setting the table, laundry; they paid people to do that. And he still decided not to, simply balled up his sheets—stained with shame and semen—and tossed them lazily into a hamper by the laundry room he never entered, knowing they would be clean in the morning. The sheets would be cleaned by others but he would not. He had to do that part for himself.

Water splashed over his hands, the noise a pleasant buzz to drown his thoughts in. Lex’s envy had morphed into a needy jealousy. People often said envy was worse than jealousy, intenser and unhealthier, but for Lex it was flipped. For once it wasn’t of Superman, no, it was his secret fucktoy this prickly resentment was jabbing him for. Lex had decided that was the worst part. Not the late night jerking off, not the wet dreams, not the zoning out during meetings picturing Superman riding his cock—or vice versa if he was in the right mood. God, the thing was probably monstrous. His bulge wasn’t particularly hidden in that suit and it took every ounce of Lex’s willpower not to gawk at it. He closed his eyes, refocusing. The worst part was Clark Kent, how of all the men he had chosen that one to waste his time on. He was embarrassed by himself, by his desires, by what people would think if they knew how badly he wanted a creature he was supposed to hate. Lex wasn’t supposed to care what people thought about him and most of the time he didn’t, except this level of debauchery was something not even he could push aside from possible public judgement.

Lex dried his hands and leaned against the sink, staring at his reflection in the mirror. He could see the bags under his eyes, faint but noticeable. His time out of jail had felt like a hassle more than true freedom, his new handcuffs forged from horniness instead of metal.

There weren’t many times throughout his life that Lex stopped. Truly stopped, or took a moment to breathe. As his reflection judged him he allowed his mind to slow down, the constant rough pulsing of his lust reduced to a low ebb in his dick. Superman still flitted in and out of his thoughts and that was fine as long as he didn’t let his mind stray to bending him over. He rubbed his forehead, groaning. His torso felt cold now.

Lex stripped the rest of his clothes, a loose pair of pajama pants more expensive than they needed to be, and stepped into the shower. He needed this gone, this obsession. It was more than just intemperate fantasies, it was want. He wanted the man lying in bed with him. The connotation of what that meant was…multifaceted. It was mortifying mostly. Irony had a cruel way of fucking him in the ass when it should be Superman.

His desire, the all consuming leech inside his body, could never decide. Lex had a very hard time figuring out what sounded easier; a rough quickie, being used till he can’t think, then dropped the next morning and forgotten, or a slow night of caring sex littered with light kisses and gentle words of praise. Both made his cock half-hard with interest, and he had imagined both in various ways, but when it came down to it Lex had no idea what he truly wanted. Only that Superman needed to be involved somehow.

He tilted his head back and squinted as water droplets sprinkled his eyes and washed away dirt from the aftermath of his longing. The warmth slid down his body and for a moment he let himself pretend it was Superman’s arms gently wrapping him in heat.

Clark jolted straight upwards in his bed, heart rocking against his rib cage. Sweat ran down his face and dripped into his eye and he blinked it away. The rhythm of his breathing was uneven and quick. He pinched the bridge of his nose, gasping in air. His hands shook lightly. He reached towards his bedside table, wincing as something clattered loudly to the ground, flicked the light on. Clark’s skin felt hot to the touch and he, dumbfounded, couldn’t take his eyes off the wet spot on his sweatpants.