supersede hate

by unpunishable

Summary:

The space between the two of them feels smaller. Lex’s hip bumps against his as he moves to lean on the balcony railing, and it sends electricity through Clark’s entire body. In an upsettingly sexy whisper, Lex asks, “Do you find me attractive?”

“Who’s the reporter here?” Clark responds, trying to mask how obnoxiously turned on he is.

...

Clark Kent interviews Lex Luthor at his penthouse.

Notes:

partly based off the 2025 film, partly based off comics i've read. explicit rating bc there's gonna be smut in the next chapter. yay!

Chapter 1

Lex Luthor’s penthouse is as sleek as the man himself. It's imbued with sterile detachment. No surface is stained, no shelves are cluttered, and everything is placed with purpose. The grey walls, despite having an entire section dedicated to Lex’s accolades and accomplishments, still manage to possess little personality, predominantly covered by a sharp, geometric design that leads into a different sharp, geometric design. In its totality, the Luthor penthouse indicates that its inhabitant likely takes himself too seriously.

Clark sits quietly at a dining table in front of a wall full of large windows that extend from floor to ceiling. A small pothos sits in the center next to a pitcher of water and two glasses. The sun is going down, giving him a beautiful view of the orange-yellow sky as the light disappears behind Metropolis’s impressive architecture.

When Clark arrived, Lex’s assistant let him in, then instructed Clark to have a seat at the very table he and Lex would be having dinner at. She proceeded to smoothly make her exit, leaving Clark with no context for Lex’s absence beyond the vague knowledge that he’s “still getting ready” and he will “be ready soon”.

It’s awkward sitting in the large, unfamiliar apartment by his lonesome. He entertains himself by thinking of what Lex is potentially doing in the other rooms. He could just be freshening up in the bathroom like a normal person, exfoliating his head to make sure it’s shiny and smooth. Maybe he was looking over the details of a plan that he’d managed to keep under wraps. Clark imagines him looming over a blueprint, working out the final details of a weapon’s construction before ordering his team to begin building.

When Lex finally emerges, he's dressed in a sleek black button-down, black trousers, a pair of black calfskin oxfords, and a watch that probably cost just as much– if not more– than Clark’s rent. Lex’s outfit on its own is nothing out of the ordinary, but Clark notices the way Lex’s rolled-up sleeves cling to his biceps and the way the front part stretches across his chest like a second layer of skin. His black trousers aren’t any less snug, tight around the midpoint of Lex’s thighs and calves and probably his butt, too, if Clark got to see the back. The thought of the figure-hugging pants stretched across Lex’s ass makes Clark’s cheeks heat up with embarrassment. He decides to ignore his observations of Lex’s outfit altogether.

“MacDonald,” Lex says, now standing right in front of him.

“E-I-E-I-O,” Clark replies. It's been quite some time since Lex called him that. The nickname was one Lex gave Clark back in Smallville when they were both kids, when Lex was desperately trying (and failing) to reject Clark’s friendship. It was meant to be insulting, but Clark just responded by continuing the nursery rhyme, and what was once a classist jab turned into an affectionate call and response between the two.

Clark stands to greet him, fixing his glasses and adjusting his ill-fitting suit jacket in the process, “Hi, Lex.”

They’re nearly chest to chest, but Lex doesn't seem to mind. He remains solidly in place as he silently scrutinizes the reporter before him. Clark gives him a lopsided, dimpled smile.

“I hope there isn't something in my teeth.”

“No. Your dopey smile remains crystalline white, unfortunately.” Lex moves away to take a seat on the other side of the table, and Clark lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

Clark turns to follow behind Lex, but Lex holds a hand up to stop him in his tracks. “Why are you following me?”

“I assumed I’d be sitting next to you.”

“If you insist.” On his way to his own seat, Lex pulls the chair to his right, causing it to tip over. Clark catches it in time, returning it safely to its upright position before taking a seat. “We’re having wagyu steaks imported directly from Japan for dinner. I hope that doesn't disturb your rustic digestive tract.”

“Well, a quality steak is a quality steak no matter where it's from, right?”

“Oh, you couldn't be more wrong, Kent. Not all cows are created equal,” Lex grabs a glass and the pitcher, pouring a glass of water that he hands to Clark before pouring his own. “Some cows are destined to provide higher-quality beef than others. Perhaps someday a Super Heifer will come along and provide the best beef of them all.”

Clark fidgets in his seat. “That's quite on the nose, Lex.”

He shrugs, “I’ve never described myself as subtle.”

Clark pulls his notepad from his bag and sets it on the table. “I'd like to begin the interview, if that's alright with you?”

“Of course. No recording device?” Lex picks up his water and takes a sip.

“That’s more Lois’s thing. I prefer to write.”

Lex smiles into his glass. “Ah, yes, Ms. Lane. I’d expect you to pick up more from her, with how much time you spend together.”

Clark clears his throat, uncomfortable with his girlfriend’s name being spoken with so much familiarity. “She’s got her methods and I’ve got mine.” Clark clicks his pen, then places the tip against his notepad. “Lex, the public has come to their own conclusions about the events from a year ago, but you say your side of the story has not been correctly represented?”

“No, not at all.”

“Where does that story begin?”

“When the alien made himself known, of course.”

“And by ‘the alien’ you mean–”

“Superman.” Lex’s voice drips with disdain.

Clark nods. “How would you describe your relationship with Superman?”

“I have no relationship with Superman. I believed at one point that he was a danger to Metropolis– to mankind. Humans accepted a foreign entity as superior to them at a concerning speed. Unfortunately, this species lacks the self-esteem to see Superman for the danger he is.”

Clark writes away at his pad. He wonders if Lois would’ve been better for this job. She knows Lex much better and has the added benefit of not having to tolerate being insulted to her face.

As Clark finishes the last sentence, Lex pulls his pad away. He observes the seemingly nonsensical words inscribed on the page with a furrowed brow. “What kind of code is this? Don't answer. I can decipher it easily.”

“It's just shorthand, Lex.”

Lex scoffs, flinging the pad back over to Clark. “Shorthand.”

“Let's return to the subject. Would you say your level of disdain for Superman has remained the same?”

“More or less.”

“Yet he’s seemingly faced no hindrances in his heroic efforts since your release. Why is that?”

He sighs before saying, “While I find his participation in human affairs questionable, to say the least, I have no intentions of leveraging my wealth or power to limit his or any other sentient beings' autonomy unlawfully.” His words have all the passion of a text-to-speech bot, monotonous and clearly rehearsed. Before Clark even arrived at Lex’s penthouse, he figured any questions about future Superman-related affairs would be met with a practiced answer written by Lex's PR team.

“Off the record,” Clark sets his pad and pen down, “how does seeing him out there make you feel?”

Lex sneers at him, then catches himself, and replaces it with a neutral expression instead. “Humanity has made its choice. I am not going to waste any more of my time trying to save them.”

“The Lex Luthor I know wouldn't be so easily discouraged.”

“And what do you know about me?”

“That you’re the smartest man I’ve ever met–”

“Smartest person,” Lex corrects. Clark can’t help but smile.

“–and you want Superman destroyed, or at least disempowered. The Lex I know would have ten other plans waiting to be executed.” Clark becomes more animated, pointing at Lex to punctuate his final words. “The Lex Luthor I know would never let anybody, human or other, stop him from achieving a goal.”

Lex folds his arms, and the fabric of his button-down becomes impossibly tighter, stretching tight across his newly gained muscles. Clark’s eyes linger for a moment. Lex looks so much stronger now. “Nice try.”

“I’m not trying anything, Lex. I’m just stating how I feel.”

Lex doesn't respond, instead searching Clark’s features for signs of dishonesty. As much as Clark hated doing it, he was a very good liar.

Lex’s chef breaks the tension by bringing over two large plates. His sous chef follows behind him with a bottle of wine. Each plate contains a medium-rare steak with roasted potatoes and other garnishments that Clark knows very little about. His notepad is placed back in his bag, pen now substituted for a fork and knife as he begins to slice his steak. He glances over at Lex, who’s watching him intently as he chews. Lex cuts small amounts, chews for a very long time, and takes breaks between. In those breaks, he talks to Clark about a variety of things, like the new tech LuthorCorp is developing, the charities they plan on working with, and his interior designer’s choice in furniture. Nothing else related to Superman. Clark can’t deny he feels a tiny bit of disappointment.

···

After dinner, the interview continues on Lex’s balcony. Clark gazes at the stars, appreciative of Metropolis’s minimal light pollution. As kids, Lex’s unremitting pursuit to find other life in space gave them the smallest bit of mutual understanding. At night, Clark would find him in the field, peeking through his telescope, searching for any anomalies in the night sky. Clark would join him, seated next to Lex, as he pointed to any strange thing he could see. Lex would never admit it, but Clark knows he enjoyed his company. Lex wanted to prove alien existence, to prove he couldn't possibly be the only one who felt how he did. Clark wishes he had told him that the evidence he had so desperately searched for was right by him the entire time. Maybe things would have been different.

“Did you enjoy dinner?” Lex’s words yank Clark from his thoughts.

“I, um– Yeah.”

“I knew you would.”

Clark grabs his chin with his thumb and index finger, pretending to think. “Actually, the potatoes were a little dry.”

Lex hums. “My chef will have to be punished for this transgression.”

“No need, I’m sure he–” As Clark steps forward to stand next to Lex, his foot catches on something. He stumbles towards the balcony railing, latching onto it to stop himself from falling. Lex chuckles as Clark adjusts his glasses. Immediately, he realizes it was Lex who tripped him, and his cheeks burn red. “That’s not very nice, Lex.”

Lex’s voice drops, “I’m not very nice.” It's sultry and suggestive and has Clark pulling at the collar of his suit. He’s not sure how someone can trip him and arouse him within the same minute, but Lex manages.

“Shall we, uh, get back to the interview?”

“You know, that sort of thing is why I like you, Kent,” Lex says, ignoring his question, “You’re humble, modest, clumsy, awkward. You’re flawed and painfully human. You’re everything he’s not.”

“Thank you, Lex.” The irony is not lost on him. Clark grabs his pad and pen from the inside of his jacket. “Despite your prior statements, you’ve agreed to work alongside Superman as one of the terms of your release. What does that look like for you?”

Lex is silent for a moment. “We have talked an awful lot about Superman, no? I suppose you’re curious as he’s your…”

“Friend.”

“Really? Just friends?”

“Yes, Lex. Just friends.”

“Would you be insulted if I said I don’t believe you?”

Clark shakes his head. This was better than the alternative, he supposes. “Everyone speculates; I can only say the truth.”

“I’d like to speculate. You two have always seemed like friends with benefits.”

“I promise that’s not the nature of our relationship.”

“So, you're straight?”

“That's not an appropriate question, Lex.”

“Consider this all off the record. We’re speaking as old friends.”

“I’ve only dated women.”

Lex lets out a disappointed sound.

“I guess I’m open, though.” Clark isn’t sure what compels him to divulge that information, but it's out of his mouth before he can process it. “Lois likes to watch me do stuff with other men.”

“Oh, MacDonald, you’re more interesting than I thought,” Lex says, turning his whole body towards Clark. “Whose idea was it? Lois?”

Clark nods, “E-I-E-I-O.”

“I figured. During our relationship, if you can even call it that, we had all kinds of encounters with people of varying genders.”

Clark hates being reminded that they dated. He’s not usually one for jealousy, but something about Lois and Lex together romantically makes him feel uneasy. At the same time, the thought of them having sex makes heat pool in his belly.

The space between the two of them feels smaller. Lex’s hip bumps against his as he moves to lean on the balcony railing, and it sends electricity through Clark’s entire body. In an upsettingly sexy whisper, Lex asks, “Do you find me attractive?”

“Who’s the reporter here?” Clark responds, trying to mask how obnoxiously turned on he is.

“Answer the question.”

Clark turns towards him, then reaches over to squeeze Lex’s bicep. “You’ve gained weight.”

“Excuse me?” Lex stands up straight, face covered in disbelief.

“It looks good. You look…” Clark moves his hand up to Lex’s neck, tracing his fingers along the muscles flexing underneath them. He gets lost in the faint protrusion of his collarbones beneath and the soft line of his jaw just above. “Yes, I’m attracted to you.”

Lex just looks self-satisfied. “I know you are. I just wanted to hear you say it.”

Clark wants to wipe that smug expression off his face. He places one hand on Lex’s hip and leaves the other on his neck, pulling him closer, so they’re chest to chest. Lex’s hands find purchase on Clark’s shoulders. Clark gets closer, breathes in the scent of his ridiculously expensive cologne for a moment, and then presses his lips against Lex’s own.

One of Lex’s hands moves from Clark’s shoulder up, up, up into his hair. His grip is tight, tugging Clark’s head into different positions so he can kiss him the way he wants. Clark can’t help his moans.

When Clark pulls away to look at him, Lex tries chasing his lips, but Clark holds him off for a moment. Lex’s eyes are greener than when they were kids. A lot had changed in the years they didn't speak. Were these feelings one of them? Did Lex feel this way then? Was he repressing it? If Clark kissed him, would he have kissed back? He wishes he had tried.

“I wouldn’t have accepted it.”

Clark is shocked; he must have said the last part out loud.

“I had a lot to work through. Consider this making up for lost time.” Lex pulls him in again, almost immediately licking at Clark’s lips to be let inside. Lex’s tongue laves over Clark’s own, the back of his teeth, and the roof of his mouth, seeking out more of him to taste. After an indeterminate amount of time spent exploring Clark’s mouth, Lex pulls back to speak.

“Kent?”

“Yes?”

Lex takes Clark's hand and moves it to the prominent bulge in his pants. Clark squeezes out of surprise, and Lex groans. “Handle it.”

“Yes, sir,” Clark says with a smile.

Lex rolls his eyes, “There go your obnoxious dimples.”

Their mouths and bodies meet yet again, pressed chest to chest as they stumble their way back inside. They keep kissing until the back of Lex’s knees hit the end of his king-sized bed. Lex reaches down to Clark’s trousers, undoing his belt and button, and untucking his shirt. Clark figures he should do the same, unbuttoning Lex’s button-up and finally, finally getting his hands on that full chest of his.

Despite his and Lois’s arrangement, Clark hadn’t actually gone beyond second base with anyone else. He wasn't interested in sleeping with anyone he couldn't tell his secret to, so he only had the option of sleeping with his current friends or taking the time to get to know someone well enough to trust them with it. Neither felt particularly appealing or urgent, so he remained functionally monogamous on his end. Now, he faced the dilemma of stopping this here or telling Lex.

They’re both naked when Clark pushes Lex back onto the bed. He straddles him, making sure to be careful and not put his full weight on the man beneath him.

“Christ, Kent. Your body is unbelievable.” He traces his index finger along Clark’s abs, then down his V-line.

Lex hates Superman, but Lex doesn't hate Clark. It caused a bit of cognitive dissonance at times, but Clark was mostly able to compartmentalize. He mulls it over, then looks at Lex, who seems to be retreating into himself. Clark didn't realize he was staring while lost in thought. Lex is gorgeous. His cheekbones, his pink lips, his pretty noises as they kissed… Clark really wants to sleep with him.

“Lex, if we’re going to have sex, I have to tell you something.”

“What is it?” His voice is soft, more vulnerable than Clark’s ever heard it before.

“You’re so hot,” Clark says, leaning down to kiss him for the hundredth time.

“I know that.”

“That wasn't it.”

Clark had heard Lex’s heartbeat the whole day, and it remained mostly steady. As Clark moves away to remove his glasses, he hears Lex’s heart thumping the same anxious beat as his own. Clark is aware of just how dangerous this is, giving Lex a possible upper hand, but it's the right thing to do. He needs to know Lex would want this even if he knew the truth. His glasses make a light clack as they’re set on the nightstand.

Clark returns to straddling Lex, looking down at him in anticipation of the worst, but hoping for the best. Lex seems confused at first, then recognition settles in.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Chapter 2: Chapter 2

Summary:

Heat spreads through Lex’s body. If he looked in a mirror, he’d probably see tinges of red on his cheeks and ears. The only thing stopping his fist from colliding with Clark’s jaw is the knowledge that he would only hurt himself. “You think you’re so cute!”

“Only a little.” 

Lex hates him.

Fuck, he hates him.

Notes:

hey y'all it only took me three months and it ain't even good really but.... chapter 2 is here! and they engage in oral sex and such! yeehawwrr

Running purely on rage, Lex shoves at Clark’s chest in an attempt to force him away, but it's ineffective. Clark takes pity on him, opting to roll onto his back next to Lex. It's something of an olive branch in what is already an entirely unideal situation, but Lex doesn't accept it, still fuming over the revelation from minutes before. Lex instead follows him, climbing on top of Clark and situating his knees on each side of Clark’s broad torso. Lex slides a hand into Clark’s hair, aggressively pushing the curls back out of his face to emulate the way Superman normally wears it. Seeing the undeniable evidence of Superman right before him, beneath him, makes him hiss. 

“No wonder you were so…” Lex’s voice is shaky with anger, hurt, betrayal, embarrassment, and a myriad of other emotions. “Your favorite pastime is humiliating me, isn't it?”

“Lex–”

“Was this your ultimate plan?”

“Plan?” Clark says, genuinely confused.

“Tricking me into joining your harem?”

“Lex, you know I don't have a– Listen,” Clark reaches up to pull Lex’s hand from his hair. He intends to hold it, but Lex snatches it away. “The whole reason I showed you is because I have no interest in tricking you.”

Lex looks down at him, still angry, but mostly embarrassed.

“I’m realizing how stupid this was. I just don't feel right being intimate with someone who doesn't know.”

Intimate. Lex rolls the word around in his head.

“And if I’m not okay with it?”

“Then I’ll put my clothes on and leave. Simple as that.”

Lex mulls it over. He would never admit it out loud, and it took an entire prison sentence to even admit it to himself, but he did find the alien attractive. It wasn't that he ever doubted Superman’s appeal; he had eyes after all. Anyone could see that Superman was an incredibly conventionally attractive man by human standards, but it was specifically his own tendency to watch his muscles flex under his suit or shiver at his commanding voice or develop a particularly heavy case of cuteness aggression when he saw those god-forsaken dimples that agitated him.

As far as his secret identity goes, Lex had always found Clark Kent very hard to look away from, even when they were kids. He was a handsome man, but sometimes it was hidden underneath his sheepish demeanor. Knowing the self-consciousness he’d come to associate with Kent was all a well-crafted facade to hide who he truly was makes Lex’s blood boil all over again. He fell for an act like any common idiot. 

“I should shove kryptonite down your throat for this.”

He could. He’d hoarded plenty before his sentence. He imagines surveying his collection, searching for a perfectly throat-shaped crystal, then happily plucking out that perfect piece. He’d have Superman tied up, completely at his mercy, as he stuffed his alien windpipe until he begged around it. 

Back in reality, Clark is slowly blinking at him. After a few seconds, an equally slow smile spreads across his face. “Or you can shove something else down there.”

Heat spreads through Lex’s body. If he looked in a mirror, he’d probably see tinges of red on his cheeks and ears. The only thing stopping his fist from colliding with Clark’s jaw is the knowledge that he would only hurt himself. “You think you’re so cute!”

“Only a little.” 

Lex hates him.

Fuck, he hates him.

Lex pulls back, knees still planted on either side of Clark’s torso. He slides off, moving to the edge of the bed, to sit his back to Clark and his feet flat on the carpeted floor. With a sneer, he says, “Get on your knees, alien.” 

Clark moves inhumanly fast, slipping down into a kneel on the floor between Lex’s thighs, open and inviting. His cock had flagged from lack of contact, but seeing the other man like this, looking up at him and waiting for his next move, brought it back to life. For a moment, it's entirely quiet. They're both still naked, both still aroused enough that the air crackles with want. Lex’s breathing is audible. Clark’s is not. He no longer has to pretend he needs to.

“Desperate.”

Clark leans forward, resting his chin on Lex's knee, still looking up at him. “Very.”

Lex reaches down, grabbing Clark’s chin. Clark had never been more disarming than he was looking up at someone like they’d hung the moon and stars. It was a type of submission that came from true desire, not the kind stolen in a power play.  It was painfully intimate.

Intimate.

Lex lets go of his chin.

“You know what to do.”

Clark scoots forward, maintaining eye contact as he nuzzles Lex’s dick.

Lex groans his approval. 

Clark wastes no time grabbing the base of Lex’s cock, shutting his eyes as he kisses along the shaft. Lex’s cock is a decent size, but it’s nothing compared to the monster Clark sports between his legs. Lex tries not to stare as the tip bumps against his expensive carpet. He knew it was big, as he’d seen Ultraman naked, saw his flaccid penis swing around freely while he walked the lab, entirely unaware of social norms and clothes. Lex only looked then with curiosity, right now he wants nothing more than to feel Superman’s cock in his hand, his mouth…

Another involuntary groan escapes Lex’s throat. He’s caught up in the pleasure of plush lips and feather-light kisses up his dick. Sweat drips down his body, only in part triggered by his anticipation of the moment Clark finally takes the head into his mouth. Clark lets the tip of his tongue poke at the slit. Lex gasps, already shoving his hands in Clark’s hair again and pulling hard. He forces Clark to take him halfway, but Clark doesn't gag, just opens his throat and moves his tongue along the underside. The hand already on Lex’s cock continues holding it steady while he takes more and more. Lex pulls him off to slap him with it, leaving a wet mark on Clark’s cheek, before shoving him back down. “Take it all, slut.”

Clark moans around Lex’s cock, enjoying the treatment and, to his embarrassment, enjoying Lex’s words. A part of Lex feels disgusted with himself, but he tampers it down to instead enjoy watching Superman being so vulnerable and so subservient. If only he’d been able to plan for this, he would have set up a camera, taken video or photos, and used them to taunt Superman after. He’d use them as a constant reminder of what Lex was able to reduce Metropolis’ hero down to. 

“If only they could see what you really are,” Lex says as his other hand finds purchase in Clark’s hair, continuing to push him violently down onto his cock, this time with two hands. He feels himself getting close, but he’s not ready for it to be over just yet. He pulls Clark off, watching him sputter and saliva drip down his chin. He looks down at Clark’s untouched cock yet again, watches the red tip bob with each cough Clark lets out. 

He shoves his dick back down Clark’s throat with ease, taking great pleasure from the noises Clark makes as he’s stuffed. Lex can’t hold it much longer; he’s at the precipice of what would definitely be the most conflicting, yet mind-bendingly satisfying blowjob he's ever had. One final time, he shoves Clark down and holds him there.

Lex’s final words are, “I’m going to debauch you completely. Oh, fuck–” before he pulls his cock out of the slippery warmth of Clark’s mouth and shoots off on the other man’s lips, nose, and cheek. He jerks himself, making sure every last drop is tugged out. His string of abuse as he orgasms is full of the usual, “alien", “slut”, “piece of trash”, all phrases that likely had no effect on Clark at this point. When he’s finally done, and his balls are empty, he’s left panting, brows still furrowed in disdain. Clark reflexively licks his lips, tasting the cum that’s left there.

“Jeez,” Clark says under his breath. It wasn't his first time with a man nor his first blowjob, Lex knows that, but he wonders if Clark had ever been throat fucked like that before. He hopes the answer is no.

Lex grabs his chin and tilts his face upward. The stupid, optimistic look is still in his eyes, the one that lets Lex know that, despite using his mouth like a fleshlight, he still thinks the world of Lex. Lex spits right at the center of his face. It lands just under Clark’s eye on the top of his cheek, mixing in with the cum. “Scum.”

Clark groans, growing hard between his thighs. He tries to reach down to wrap a fist around his own cock, but Lex is quick to stop him.

“Don’t you dare.”

There's confusion on Clark’s face, but he pulls his hand away. Obedient. 

“Get up here.”

Clark’s up on the bed at the same breakneck speed he’d fallen to his knees earlier. Lex spits in his hand. He reaches down to Clark’s cock and wraps it around the head, twisting slightly, starting the handjob off already at maximum intensity. 

“You don’t deserve to cum. You don’t deserve my touch at all.”

Clark decides he agrees, responding with breathy one-word phrases like “yes” and “please,” constantly begging for something unclear. Lex wants to get hard again, wants to pin him down and fuck him until he’s wet and gaping and full of regret, but it's not happening tonight. He's resigned to using his bare hands to punish, and he’ll make the most of it.  

“Look at you, a cum covered mess, panting like a dog as I bring you off with my hand.” His hand moves faster and faster, filling the room with schlicking noises as Clark’s hips fly up to meet his fist. “I can ruin you. I can tell everyone what a filthy little pervert you truly are. I hold your release in my hands. I have the power here! Me!”

When Clark comes, he releases a growl from somewhere deep in his chest. His cum shoots all over Lex’s hand and arm, and his own stomach. His grip on the bedding tightens to the point of tearing the cover and sheets. He’s holding himself up on his elbows, looking straight ahead absently. 

The air is different, now having both reached their release. Too thick with words left unsaid, and to come as the reality of the situation slowly comes back into frame. Lex stands, silently walking to his bathroom to clean off a bit. He stays in there for as long as possible, wiping a towel across his face and arm and hand and trying not to focus on the feel of Superman’s cum on his skin. 

After the last swipe, he looks down at the towel where the fibers are stuck together by the viscous stickiness of the other man’s orgasm. He could do a lot of things with it, probably. For now, he will discard it in the laundry hamper.

Lex returns to the bed with a mauve satin robe and a towel for Clark as well. Clark thanks him, because of course he does, and begins to clean himself off. Lex finds the process entirely unendearing and decidedly does not want to dirty him up again. He is especially uninterested in Clark catching him off guard and kissing along his jaw. 

“Please…”

Begging so easily works on Lex. Lex turns to capture Clark’s mouth in a searing kiss, earning a delighted whimper from the other man. It goes on like that for a while, battling tongues and feeling each other up, until Lex seems to realize what’s happening. Lex’s hands brace themselves on Clark’s chest, shoving until Clark moves away again.

“Get out.”

“Lex–”

“Interview over. Get out.”

“Lex, you’re being–”

“Now, Superman! Out! Now!”

Clark looks like a kicked puppy, but he doesn't push it any further. His naked form turns into a blur of colors as he speeds through the room, collecting his clothes from the floor. When he’s dressed, he turns back to Lex, one last plea before making his exit. 

Head in hands, Lex lets out an exasperated sigh before speaking again, “This is not something I can just accept in a night. You must understand that.”

“I understand. Good night, Lex.” 

In just seconds, he’s on the balcony, then lifting off into the night sky.

Once Clark is finally gone, Lex feels the air clear, as though it’d been ripe with something acrid from the moment he’d arrived. For once, Lex is unsure of his next move. He could make some calls to one of the Daily Planet’s competitors, set up an interview where he reveals the truth. He’d send out a team of PIs to collect evidence, fabricate a story about his suspicions, and eventual findings. It’d be breaking news, blasted across every screen in the country. SUPERMAN’S SECRET IDENTITY REVEALED.

It’d be easy, quick. Unchallenging.

Lex was above handouts.

He’d find another way to use this information to torment Superman. He could control him with the knowledge that it’d only take one phone call to destroy his life for good and jeopardize the lives of those he loves. Why pass up that opportunity to help the people who’d already turned their backs on him anyway? No, this secret was Lex’s to exploit and Lex’s alone. 

First, he’d shower. Then, he’d write a lovely note addressed to the desk of Clark Kent at the Daily Planet, letting him know the interview was superior to all other interviews he’d done thus far. A small gesture of gratitude, and a saccharine warning of what was to come. And the true thrill lacing it all came from knowing that Kent was oblivious to just how pleasurable Lex’s plans would be for him, too.