Superman angled down in a steep arc, impatient to reach the Fortress.  Doors opened silently below him, welcoming the last son of Krypton, but he spent mere minutes inside.  Just long enough to make sure there weren’t any tracking devices on him.  He’d learned the hard way what kind of trust his marriage was supposedly built on, and his beloved spouse--both words held nothing but distain and disgust in his mind--saw him as nothing more than a possession, a commodity to use, a pathway to recognition and renown.

He wasn’t a possession, he never would be, and the idea of being owned made something inside him boil in enraged affront.  Perhaps shades of himself on Red K or even Jor-El’s unsubtle influence, yet in this one thing, he embraced his darker self willingly.  He would not be owned, not even by one who professed to love him beyond anything. 

Lies.  All lies, and his marriage was the biggest lie of all.  It was an abomination. 

A quick launch up, a spring from his knees, and he was up again.  Soaring through the air, as free as he ever could be on this world, where chains built of expectations, responsibilities, and debts tried to chain him down.  Only in this, in mid-flight over the clouds and spinning through sunlight, could he be free.  Except when he was with the other.  His true beloved. 

Swiftly he flew, an arrow aimed straight for one place, the only place he called home.  Away from his false life, where he played a role only out of necessity.  His best friend, someone the world saw as his fairy tale love, where it had all started when he’d been in high school, and that more than anything made his stomach churn with bile.  No one but his other, his true kin-mate, deserved such praise and adoration. 

Peering around quickly using the full spectrum of his sight, he landed on the balcony, confident in the knowledge no one would see.  He slipped through the French doors that were always unlocked--unlocked for him--and as usual the knowledge made him smile.  The tenseness he carried with him everywhere, that often felt bone deep, fell away.  Here, there were no expectations, no demands, no worries.  Here, he could be himself, as he couldn’t be anywhere else.  Not with his parents.  Not in his job.  Not in his role as mankind’s savior.  Certainly not in his marriage. 

Here, he was simply-- 

“Clark.” 

Head tracking the sound of his name, spoken in a low, husky voice, his eyes alighted on voracious blue eyes that devoured him.  Slim hands reached out to him, as elegant as any concert pianist’s, an embrace promised if he would only come. 

Spinning around, he discarded the hated costume.  Totally naked, skin darkened to caramel from twenty-eight years of exposure to this world’s yellow sun, he padded quietly to the one waiting for him.  Dropping down on his knees, he nuzzled his face in a soft stomach, still mostly flat but not quite firm after years and years behind a desk.  Those slim hands fell onto his head, and he moaned as fingers began carding through his hair. 

“Please,” he whispered. 

“Not until it comes off.” 

Fuck.  He’d forgotten.  He always forgot, and the anger thrumming in that voice never quite made enough of an impression for him to remember.  But how could he?  It was all he could do to make himself forget it daily, the constant reminder on his finger of a false pledge to meaningless human vows he did not hold in his heart.  To him, the ring was a collar denoting his slavery, and no matter how much he knew it was necessary for their long-term plans, he felt nothing more than revulsion for the vile symbol. 

Of course he blocked it from his mind!  Wouldn’t anyone in his place? 

Still, he unwound his arms from the familiar waist, petting tempting hips, once, twice, before his right hand plucking off the gold band.  He wanted nothing more than to hurt it into the far corners of the room, or better yet, the cold vacuum of space, but he knew better.  Instead, he tossed it in the direction of blue spandex crumpled near the door.  

Closing his eyes, he tilted his face up.  Waiting. 

He shivered as cool hands placed the circlet around his head, the metal causing a thrum to build in him as the crystal--placed above what humans would call the third eye--began to synchronize with his sh’kara.  Gasping, as he always did, he could feel their sh’karas melding into one, as it had on the day of their joining.  Burrowing his face into the hollow between hipbone and stomach, he trembled lightly as they rejoined fully. 

He didn’t need to look up to see the matching circlet on a pale forehead, the diamond-like crystal glowing above brilliant blue eyes that sparkled like ice cycles on bright winter’s day.  They were joined.  They would always be joined.  Yet, beyond these rooms, their connection was dulled, almost imperceptible, for their spirits, their sh’karas, weren’t fully aligned without their diadems of joining.  Only like this, or when in danger, could they feel each other so strongly. 

The day would come when they would never have to take them off again.  They would wear them with pride, and the world would tremble. 

Fingers stroked over his diadem, through his hair, and he hummed in pleasure. 

“What of your wife?” 

Clark shuddered, his half-hard erection wilting.  “God.  Don’t do that.” 

Leaning down and whispering in Clark’s ears, he spoke deceptively light.  “Lois Lane…is your lawfully wedded wife.  I don’t think she’d be pleased to see her husband on his knees.  Especially before a Luthor.” 

Turning his face, Clark pressed a kiss to Lex’s hip, through layers of Armani and silk.  “I don’t care what pleases or displeases her.  You know she’s nothing but a tool.  A front, and when her use is over…” 

A smile slipped over Clark’s face.  She wouldn’t live forever.  Someday, Superman would be busy elsewhere when she called for help, and then he would be free from one chain.  

“What would your father say,” Lex tsked, voice simultaneously bitter and wistful.  Not quite as acidic as when he spoke of his own father, but the longing was still there, along with the resentment.  Lex had never had luck with parental figures, and it made Clark want to hold Lex tight to him forever, to drive every bad memory away until only the two of them remained. 

Damn Lionel Luthor for withholding his love as a means of teaching a lesson.  And damn Jonathan Kent, too, for not being able to see beyond Lex’s father and his own shame for betraying the Rosses. 

“He won’t live forever, either.”  This time he pressed a kiss to Lex’s stomach, fingers busy revealing what lay beneath, tugging and pushing the white dress shirt out of the way.   He moved his face back and forth, rubbing his nose and cheeks against smooth, bare skin.  Sniffing in deeply, he inhaled the unique scent of Lex.  Spicy…warm…masculine…perfect.  So very perfect. 

“You’ll mourn.” 

Yes, he would.  He resented his parents, but he didn’t hate them.  He and Lex had eternity, so he was willing to give them these few years, a decade at most.  Their perfect son, the one they wanted.  Savior of mankind, bound by a duty that would never end, not as long as humanity remained violent and self-serving, and they never thought beyond their own needs and wants to see this.  No, not the Kents.  But he could give them Superman, a sham marriage, and a false son.  After taking their true child from them, the little sister he would never know, he could do this one thing before they were buried forever in the earth. 

He loved them enough to do this, to pay this final debt. 

“Thank you,” he whispered, laying kiss after kiss, starting at Lex’s naval and making his way down.  “Thank you for giving me this time.” 

Hands tugged at him, drawing him up, and he was helpless to do anything else but follow.  Lex looked at him seriously, the sorrow hidden carefully, though not carefully enough that Clark couldn’t see it.  Feel it, for their sh’karas were one.  Even their hearts beat as one, and the pervading sorrow made him want to weep. 

“Anything,” Lex swore, his voice absolute.  “Anything for you.” 

Clark leaned in. 

“Even Lois.” 

He stilled.  Reaching up, he stroked Lex’s cheek.  His head.  So smooth, so bare.  Lex was so very open for those who bothered to really see.  Fingers lingering on a soft, sweet nape, he promised, “Not Lois.  Just a pair of breasts and a vagina.  For them, never for me.” 

Lex pulled him in close, holding him to his chest.  Hand resting on the small of Clark’s back, he asked casually, “And when you fuck her?” 

“Never.”  He looked Lex straight in the eye, not hiding anything.  He knew what was required.  They went through this every few months.  Lex had been betrayed too often, and always by those who claimed to love him, by those who were supposed to love him best.  Even with their sh’karas entwined, Lex still couldn’t believe fully.  Not yet, at least.  Clark knew he would one day.  Until then…  “I touch her only when I have to.  She sees me as nothing more than a possession, a way to feel superior for being the only woman to own Superman.  For taming the mighty alien, bringing him to heel.” 

Pressing soft kisses to Lex’s ear, he continued, dropping the mockery from his voice.  “I swear, Lex.  Only twice.  And even then, I had to think of you, or I’d never have gotten it up.” 

“And she believes?” Lex asked, nuzzling Clark’s throat, kissing a trail along his jaw. 

“Yes,” he hissed.  “Completely.” 

And she did.  Lois believed he’s sacrificed both times, and while he had, it just wasn’t in the way she’d thought.  No, she’d believed he’d had to overcome his distaste for physical copulation, which he’d done for love of her, and she accepted he found human touch repugnant.  His story about Kryptonians being asexual, having evolved beyond animalistic biological impulses, had been cemented after throwing up on their honeymoon every time she pawed at him.  She hadn’t believed until then, and she’d never know the real reason was because her touch wasn’t Lex Luthor’s, the one he was truly joined with. 

She never would, unless he decided to whisper it in her ear, perhaps as she lay dying.  A final gift for his beloved wife, a recompense for all the times he’d been forced to hold her or touch his lips to hers. 

No.  No, while it was tempting, he had to stick to the plan.  And really, it wasn’t her fault.  She was a means to an end, and he struggled not to hate her, for he’d accepted the necessity of this deception. 

“She’s not you,” Clark promised.  No one could be.  “Never you.” 

“Good.”  Lex gripped Clark’s cheeks tightly, kissing him hard.  “Get rid of the contacts.  I’ll be waiting.” 

Oh fuck, yeah.  Blood rushing in all the right places, making him hard again, he forced himself to move at human speed.  Going to the bathroom, he watched in the mirror as he removed the contacts.  Green eyes peeked out at him, gleaming wickedly.  Only for Lex.  Everyone else saw the false him, the Jonathan Kent him, and one day that him would be put to rest forever, too. 

The diadem shone golden in the bathroom lights, the crystal glowing softly.  A perfect match for the silver-white of Lex’s, the two opposing colors symbolized balance in all things, from the greater universe to their joining.  He closed his eyes briefly, reliving the moment he’d placed Lex’s diadem on his head, the rush of feelings that had overwhelmed his heart, the Kryptonian words spoken from the hologram of his birth mother washing over them both. 

Expectation and excitement quickened his steps as he hurried to the bedroom.  Their bedroom, even if Lex had to sleep in it alone four days out of seven.  They had to be careful not to be too excessive, yet Superman’s ‘patrols’ left for a lot of leeway. 

Other than the damn tracking devices.  Fuck Lois for not seeing him for anything but a trophy and a story.  Like hell would he let her obsessive nature with his ‘rescues’ take away his precious time with Lex.  They had too little together as it was.  He’d take care of the ‘Lois problem’ himself if she threatened this. 

“Cla~ark.” 

Oh, God.  Oh god, oh god.  Hurrying even more, tripping over a stray chair, he stumbled his way to the bed. 

Wow.  Just…wow. 

Lex.  Lex all laid out, posing really, with his knee up and his hands over his head, stretching in ways that made Clark’s tongue feel ten sizes too big.  The diadem sparkling where the moonlight hit it, the crystal’s internal glow making Lex’s eyes seem silver in the room lit only by candles and the moon shining through the floor-to-ceiling windows.  Lex’s cock, his beautiful, hard cock, curved up towards his stomach, making Clark harden even more in response. 

“My rylhar,” Lex purred.  “Join with me and be one.” 

“Yesssss,” Clark hissed, forcing himself not to jump his rylhar.  Stalking to the edge of the bed, he crawled over the huge mattress until he was hovering over Lex, hands and knees caging Lex on both sides.  “Ktal ur bynal’dir utzha kon, rylhar.” 

“My heart beats for you, too,” Lex promised, “only you.”   Twining his fingers behind Clark’s neck, he pulled down, even while he moved up for a kiss.  Their mouths melted together, tongues dancing, as they reclaimed each other.  A sharp nip to his lip made Lex gasp, raising his knee to slide between Clark’s thighs. 

It was nothing like with Lois.  Nothing.  He touched her when he had to, kissed her when left with no other choice, but it was empty.  Hollow.  This, with Lex, was like the first time, every time, when time ceased to exist and magic spun between them.  Soft and tender lips, with a tongue so wet and warm it made entire solar systems explode inside him.  Hands sliding and petting, making his skin tingle, awash in heat.  Passion rushed through him, sweet and wild, making him want to laugh from the sheer joy.  

Kisses, kisses, and more kisses.  Lex was a master, and they’d spent hours upon hours doing nothing but kiss.  Sweet kisses.  Chaste kisses.  Wild kisses.  Possessive kisses.  Hard and soft, tender and rough, light and deep.  Every kind imaginable, and then every kind beyond imagination.  He could spend forever doing nothing but kiss Lex and it would be more than enough. 

Lex.  Everything sang inside him, Lex, Lex, Lex, the word echoing inside him until it was a melody engraved on his soul, a refrain he knew as intimately as his own body.  As intimately as he knew Lex’s body.  Lex.  His everything. 

No.  His only thing. 

Nipping at Lex’s lip one last time, he kissed along the soft line of jaw before pressing one sweet kiss on a flushed cheek.  So soft.  He’d never tell Lex the soft roundedness of those cheeks, so very different from Lionel’s sharp angles, made something in his stomach squish with happiness.  The lingering baby fat made Lex seem softer, more gentle, even if it was really a lie.  Lex was the strongest person Clark knew, and he could be as ruthless and cutthroat as necessary when it came to protecting what was his. 

A perfect match, for Clark would tear the world apart if anyone ever took Lex from him. 

The very idea made him growl low in his chest, and he returned to Lex’s lips, capturing them in a brutal kiss.  Lex met him measure for measure, a clashing of lips, tongue, and teeth.  

They took their time, just wrestling for control, kissing and nipping, hands wandering as they vied for position on top of the other.  Neither in a hurry for completion, they worked on driving the other crazy.  Clark was breathless when he finally managed to pin Lex to the bed, wrists held firm in one hand as the other stroked Lex’s cock over and over, making him writhe and twist. 

“Tic’kyp reins ut forud, Kal-El.”  Lex arched up, moving into Clark’s hand, rubbing as much of himself as he could along Clark’s body.  “Tic…tic’kyp…tic…oh, please, damn it…ugh…stop teasing!” 

“What do you want?”  Moving to take a pretty, pink nipple in his mouth, he bit gently.  Releasing Lex’s wrists, he dragged one finger down the pale chest.  “Anything, rylhar, anything you desire.” 

“You,” Lex panted, eyes shocky and wild.  Moving his hands down, he cupped Clark’s ass firmly, bringing their groins together.  He moaned as Clark wrapped his hand around both their cocks, and he began rocking back and forth.  “Just you.” 

Salty and sweet, and Clark couldn’t stop licking and nipping.  The nipple beneath his lips pebbled so prettily.  Yet, he didn’t want to be rude, so he moved to the other, lapping at it delicately just to hear Lex moan.  Rubbing his free hand along a muscular thigh, he felt his ass clench as Lex gripped him even harder.  His whole body was sparkling with pleasure, but the skin under Lex’s hands on fire.  Abruptly, his whole body clenched. 

Kneading, Lex was kneading his ass, and fuuuuuck did that feel good.  Warmth flooded through him, and he groaned even as he threw his head back.  Lex followed, biting at his throat, making Clark shiver and moan.  

“Let me ride you,” he asked desperately, still rubbing against Lex.  “Please, ashsumara vor na’tel zartih…tih…oh…oh, please…pleaaaaah…”  He trailed off, words fleeing his mind as slick fingers breached him.  One, two, twisting, up and up, and then three, and he didn’t ever want this moment to end. 

Hands encouraged him to move up, and finally he was lowering himself onto Lex, and oh, fuck!  Hard, and throbbing, and so warm, and when he started moving up and down he felt excitement zinging down his spine as Lex started moaning uncontrollably, dirty promises flowing like red wine. 

Muscles rippled below him, their emotions flowing back and forth along their bond, weaving together like rope, enhancing their pleasure.  He opened fully, pushing the link harder, wanting to give Lex everything.  Riding Lex, feeling him buck and arch, he nearly howled as one thrust felt like it speared him all the way to his heart, which was already spilling over with love, like liquid sunbeams. 

Fingers gripped him, stroking firm and hard, and when he came, he spilled into pale hands waiting to catch him.  Only the feeling of Lex coming in him, hot and wet, could top it, and he collapsed onto Lex’s chest, satisfied as Lex’s semen marked him, cleaned him of his time outside these walls. 

“I love you,” Lex whispered.  Clark could only hum, luxuriating in the heavy, warm lassitude, soothed as fingers began combing through his sweaty locks.  “I missed you.” 

Clark opened his eyes, looking up at Lex, chin on his chest.  “I, too, my rhylar.” 

“Tell me.” 

Turning his head, he settled his cheek over Lex’s heart, listening to the well-known beat.  Speaking softly, one hand drawing patterns on the nearest hip, he began their ritual, promises made, painting the future they would have.  Their destiny was merely waiting for them, for when the time was right. 

“And thus Superman married Lois Lane, and together they were happy, the happily ever after every girl or boy dreamed of at night, after being tucked in by their parents, and the people sighed at the romance being played before their very eyes.  Yet, they forgot he was invulnerable, and she too human, so it was inevitable one adventure too many would take her life.  Thus Superman mourned.” 

“And Lex Luthor?” 

“Too powerful,” Clark answered immediately.  “Too rich, and his father too wicked.  It was also inevitable Superman would be suspicious.” 

“And Superman,” Lex broke in.  “Too powerful, as well, and too blindly loved.  Lex Luthor couldn’t be anything other than suspicious.  The perfect deception, to lull the masses, and he refused to fall for it.” 

Clark nodded, humming as he rubbed his cheek against Lex.  “So the two watched each other warily, their animosity legendary, exciting the people, who wondered who was right and who was wrong.  Until one day, soon after Lois Lane’s demise, a threat came to Earth, endangering all life on the planet.” 

“What could they do, but join together?” 

“Yes.”  Clark smiled, his imagination concocting images in his mind as clearly as if he were watching a movie.  “Together, they would triumph, and the world would love them both.  Even more, as the shared adversity drew them closer and closer, Superman would begin to grieve less and less.  This time, the people would sigh in relief, for the superhero had been acting erratically as grief and rage tore at him, until Lex Luthor saved the heart of the alien.  Superman, in turn, would save Lex Luthor, helping him see that serving the people was his true destiny and duty.  Thus, would they join together in a Kryptonian ceremony before the world, two heroes swearing fealty to each other and their people, love blooming where once only mistrust lay.” 

“And Superman became Kal-El,” Lex said softly, “putting aside the cape, only to be donned in times of desperate peril, charging the new league of heroes to carry on in his legacy.  Instead, he would become a teacher and a leader, heralding a golden age for mankind.” 

“As would Lex Luthor, first by becoming President of the United States, where he would guide the people into forming the first world government.  And naturally, who else would they ask to lead them, other then the joined houses of El and Luthor?” 

“Of course,” Lex echoed, a hint of amusement in his voice.  “Who else?” 

Clark hit Lex’s shoulder.  “It’s my story, so let me tell it.” 

“Yes, master.” 

“Jerk.”  Hugging Lex, burrowing closer, he continued.  “And thus their joining became legendary.  Best friends, lovers, partners, they were Hephaestion and Alexander reborn, remaking the known world into something better.  Tales of their great love and their infinite wisdom would be passed from generation to generation, and they would be beloved by those they ruled, bringing peace and prosperity to the Earth.” 

“And they lived happily ever after?” 

“And they lived happily ever after.” 

Clark fell asleep, wrapped around Lex, knowing one day the world would be theirs, as it was meant to be.  Their love would not be denied, and they would do great things, they would fix things, and no one, no one would stop them.  

When the time was right. 

END

NOTES II: The idea of Clark, or even Lex, having an affair is ludicrous to me, since I don’t believe neither has it in their natures.  Clark is too much his parents’ son, too caught up in the need to be Morally Good, and Lex revered his mother too highly to ever commit such an act himself.  Yet…I couldn’t get the idea out of my head: what if instead of Clark having an affair with Lois--the obvious choice as she’s his fairy tale true love from the comics--what if the idea was completely turned around on its head.  This story was the result.