Superman's One-man Harem

by lengfeiLee

Summary:

Superman dutifully obeyed his parents’ wishes and built himself a harem.
**
I know what you guys are looking for ; )
❣️本文有中文版
两版的风味大概是山东德州扒鸡和美国德州炸鸡的区别

Chapter 1: You’re the First

Lex opened his eyes slowly. The first thing he noticed wasn’t the pain, but the unnaturally soft bed beneath his back — far softer than the luxury bedding in his own penthouse. This fabric, whatever it was, felt like silk yet stayed as cold as ice.

He shifted, only to find he couldn’t get up at all. A crystal collar encircled his neck — so clear it was nearly invisible, so light he might miss it was there, if not for the short, thin chain connecting it to the bedframe. A second restraint looped loosely around his waist, not tight enough to bruise, yet pressing just right against the bone to keep him lying flat. His hands and feet were technically free, yet he couldn’t even sit up.

Lex drew a deep breath. The surroundings confirmed his worst suspicion — he had been brought to the Fortress of Solitude.

Even now, he refused to admit defeat.

Superman had stormed into his command center like a force of nature, declaring his downfall in front of everyone. He stood by and let that Kryptonian dog tear him apart like a ragdoll before his own staff, then left him to be shredded by lopsided headlines.

The turmoil in his mind drowned out the physical pain temporarily. A broken arm was trivial. Everything he had built up was collapsing. He’d made one last desperate charge toward the pocket universe’s gateway. Superman hadn’t stopped him — only followed, staying a few steps behind.

When he woke up again, he was like this.

His fractured arm was splinted, but he could still move the opposite hand. He ran his fingers over the collar and the waist chain to feel the latches, only to find they were seamless — like whole chunks of crystal, carved with alien perfection. He checked them again and again, but froze when he heard footsteps. He yanked his hand away just in time.

“He's so pretty!”

A woman’s voice, or so it sounded, but the figure looked no different from the other robot beside her, except for the designation “12” printed on her chest.

The robot marked “4” turned to glance at her, as if to silence the unnecessary remark.

Unit 4 approached him. Lex flinched on instinct, only to have a metal arm pin him back against the bed.

“Primary Consort, please cooperate with treatment. Continued resistance will activate supplemental restraints.”

Its mechanical voice was unnervingly calm as it injected a dose of clear fluid into his arm.

“Primary Consort?!”

Unit 12 added in her softer, feminine tone, “The consort must maintain optimal condition to serve the Son of Krypton. Please take care of yourself.”

Lex wondered if he’d fallen into a black hole during that pocket-universe chase, triggering a nightmare looping endlessly. He remembered shredding these robots with his men. How were they intact, gleaming as if nothing had ever touched them? Besides, the one who was supposed to be imprisoned was Superman, not him. This had to be a nightmare.

Unit 12 didn't just sound like a woman; she's as gentle as one. She cleaned the cuts on his face and scalp with almost human delicacy, even tilted a cup of water to his lips so he could drink.

Maybe it was Unit 4’s drug, or something 12 slipped into the water. Either way, Lex drifted under again.

He didn’t know how much time had passed before the mattress dipped under a new weight. A rush of heat brushed his ear, rousing him from the drugged haze.

Lex’s eyes snapped open. The ceiling of the Fortress glowed cold and white above the tall figure standing at the edge of the bed. Backlit, his expression was hidden. When he saw Lex awake, he paused, then stepped back just slightly.

Lex said nothing. The scene felt so familiar, except now he was the knife’s meat, not the hand that wielded the blade. Predator and prey reversed.

“I haven’t properly thanked you yet for helping me recover my parents’ hologram.”

Superman, still in that same too-familiar blue suit and red cape, stood over him. But his eyes now held the same calculated sharpness Lex only ever saw in his own reflection. The Kryptonian looked down at him, mouth curved in the faintest smile.

“If not for you,” Superman said, his voice low, unable to hide a note of satisfaction, “I would never have known the fate my parents left for me. And you, Lex Luthor…”

Lex tried to scoot back, but the chain around his waist jerked tight, tugging the collar snug against his throat. He choked a little.

“…proved how right they were about humanity.”

Kal’s hand fisted in his shirtfront, not to yank him up, but to slowly unbutton the first button with his thumb.

“Humans are so petty. So chaotic. You spend a few dollars to stir up an online mob, and they shift like cattle. From kids on street corners with their phones to Pentagon officials are all the same. My reputation sways left or right, like neutrality itself is a crime. When they need me, they pray my name. When they don’t, they curse that I do too much or not enough.”

By the time his fingers reached the third button, Lex hadn’t moved.

“Why am I here?” he rasped.

“You speak Kryptonian, don’t you? Even without the help of AI.”

Lex didn’t deny it. 

Superman paused, just as Unit 4 returned. At his command, the bot projected the hologram of his parents again. When his mother spoke, Kal froze the playback mid-sentence, replaying one single word.

“Can you pronounce this?”

Lex had no idea what the hell his nemesis was doing, but he decided to play for now. He repeated the word.

“No,” Kal murmured, smiling, “that’s not how you say it.”

He caught Lex’s uninjured hand, guiding it to his own throat, letting him feel the subtle vibration of his voice as he demonstrated. The sound rumbled under Lex’s palm, unsettlingly warm.

“You should sink the final vowel lower.”

Lex’s eyes widened as he realized.

“So your translation, ‘wives’, that’s inaccurate. My consorts aren’t limited by gender.”

The Kryptonian unwound the chain from the bedframe, wrapping it slowly around his palm.

“My harem,” he whispered, voice dropping like a blade, “starts with you.”

Chapter 2: What You’ve Always Wanted

Kal didn’t yank the chain maliciously. Instead, he handled it like he was admiring a fine piece of jewelry, his fingertips playing with each clasp before they finally drifted to the wearer’s throat. His large hand circled Lex’s neck, palm warm against the cold crystal collar.

Lex narrowed his eyes at him, then asked suddenly, “How is the world talking about my disappearance?”

“Coward on the run to the pocket universe. Even Superman can’t find you.”

Clark let out a dry laugh. Once again, he’d slipped into narrating himself in the third person. He always did that. Sometimes, even he couldn’t tell if he was Superman or Clark Kent anymore.

“There’s nowhere for you out there,” he continued. “No one would dare shelter you except me. All the outside world has for you is trials and assassins.”

“So you’re protecting me, Superman?” Lex lifted his uninjured hand, resting it on the wrist that was pressed to his neck. “By turning me into your whore? Should I be grateful?”

“I’m giving you what you’ve always wanted, Luthor.”

Whenever Superman got emotional, his voice rose loud enough to drown out anyone else. Lois had hated that about him. Maybe that was one of the reasons they’d fallen apart. It wasn’t really his fault. When you’re the alpha of every man alive, you can’t help but be a little domineering.

“What I’ve always wanted? Like what? You?” Lex barked a laugh, his blue eyes glinting with cunning. “Don’t flatter yourself. I never wanted you. I wanted to beat you. Destroy you.”

“And if you did erase me, then what?” Kal’s hand left Lex’s throat, catching the hand Lex hadn’t managed to pull back. He traced the lines in his palm with his fingertips. “In the end, every man dies. That clever mind you’re so proud of would just rot into a stinking bloody puddle.”

“What are you bragging about?”

Lex ground his teeth together. He knew better than anyone that to humans, a Kryptonian was nearly immortal.

“You built that stupid version of me,” Kal spat, “turned him into a living machine to control. Don’t pretend you’re proud of that. If you were, why hide his face that looks almost exactly like mine?”

Kal’s hand finally, boldly, cupped Lex’s cheek. His forefinger rested on his temple, his thumb brushing over the sharp edge of his cheekbone.

“What you really want is-,” Kal said softly. “A creature with my brawn and your brain. But you failed. So you tricked yourself into believing that broken toy was good enough, that you were satisfied.”

Lex opened his mouth and found nothing to say. He snapped it shut, too late to hide the truth.

“What if I told you…”

Kal leaned in close, his lips almost grazing the shell of Lex’s ear.

“…what I want now is the same thing? You helped me restore my parents’ will. It’s only right you receive this honor.”

Lex’s breath grew shallow. Until now, the closest they’d ever been was pressing their fingertips together on transparent glass jail.

Damn it!

“You plan to sweet-talk the others the same way? To get them to crawl willingly into your harem?”

“Does it work?”

The Kryptonian laughed smugly and sealed Lex’s mouth with a kiss before he could change his mind.

The chain didn’t give Lex much freedom to kiss back, but he did his best.

He’d wanted to do this for a long time.

Ever since Superman fell into his hands, his brilliant mind had run wild with fantasies of making the alien kneel before him, sucking him off with a look of shame and rage. But without Metamorpho, he couldn’t control him. And he’d never let anyone else see Superman like that.

By the time Lex realized his shirt was gone, Kal was already working on opening his pants. He didn’t resist. Instead, he deepened the kiss, sealing their fragile agreement tighter with the taste of spit and teeth.

Unit 4 dutifully caught the discarded clothes that the Fortress’s master tossed aside. He didn’t even have time to fold them neatly before reaching out to catch the cape next.

Lex’s head spun from the kiss, his back falling to the bed. As he panted for breath, he caught sight of Unit 12’s slender figure standing by the bedside, both hands lifting a translucent tray. In another context, what it held would be mistaken for pieces of crystal artwork.

“What’s this supposed to mean?”

Lex had always been indifferent about sex. Beautiful women were just props for the public image of a successful man. But he wasn’t stupid.

“In theory,” Kal said, picking up a bracelet-like crystal cuff from the tray and spinning it on his finger, “you’re still my enemy. The most troublesome one.”

He caught Lex’s leg and calmly locked the crystal shackle around his ankle.

“From enemy to consort, by Kryptonian custom, we need a ritual.”

He grabbed a delicate crystal chain and clipped it from the ankle cuff to the ring at his waist, then mirrored it on the other side.

“So that’s Kryptonian tradition? Turning perversions into noble rites?”

Lex’s voice dripped with mockery, testing the restraints as he tugged his spread legs. The crystal chains clinked together in a clear, pretty chime, only to be drowned out by an even prettier moan from his own throat.

“Not used to being on the receiving end, are you?”

Kal picked up a small crystal buttplug, pressing it carefully inside Lex, who tensed but didn’t stop him.

“What answer do you want to hear?” Lex hissed, hooking his good arm around Kal’s neck to pull him closer. “Maybe behind closed doors, I’m just a filthy slut who loves getting fucked.”

Lex loved seeing Superman glare at him like this. It made him hard, so when the plug was replaced by something thicker, stretching him wide, the burn almost felt good.

Every thrust felt like a brand inside him — deep, heavy, pushing him along the silk bedding. Kal was almost tender, keeping clear of the arm in the splint. He pinned Lex’s free wrist to his side, the other hand bracing under his hip, angling him for punishing, perfect friction.

“Tell me, who do you belong to?”

Lex bit his lip, his blue eyes half-lidded as he moaned through his nose, each shallow sound escaping in time with Kal’s thrusts.

“Lex,” Kal murmured against his ear, voice hoarse. “I thought we had an understanding. If you—”

“You…”

Kal could barely catch the whisper with his super-hearing. He didn’t push him for more. Instead, he kissed him again, swallowing the last of Lex’s breath.

It was Unit 4 who interrupted them at just the right moment:

“Apologies for the interruption. Semen must be collected within the optimal window.”

Kal broke the kiss, lips trailing to Lex’s jaw. He sat up slightly, brushing his hair back with one hand, chest heaving, but his hips never stopped moving, grinding in deep and slow.

“My consort first.”

Unit 12 immediately bent forward, her gentle, nurse-like voice soft and emotionless:

“Primary Consort, please relax.”

Lex might have protested, might have insisted he could hold the container himself, but Kal angled his hips just right, catching his sweet spot and forcing a choked sob from his throat. He spilled into the sterile tube without warning, the chain at his throat rattling in time with his shuddering breath.

Just before sleep claimed him, Lex felt Kal slip out of him. Superman took a new tube Unit 4 handed him, one hand still caressing the sensitive place where Lex’s hole fluttered open and finished what they’d started, filling the vessel with a low, satisfied growl.

Chapter 3: Do You Want a Name

Luthor had the vague impression that Superman stayed for several hours. In his dreams, he could still feel the weight and warmth of another body beside him. But perhaps it was a delusion because when he woke again, there wasn’t even a shadow on the bed.

He suspected he’d been repeatedly sedated. Otherwise, it was impossible that he would sleep so deeply and for so long. He rarely slept more than five hours, and in a place like this, where the sun never set, it was even less likely he’d sleep like the dead.

“Primary Consort, are you awake?”

Unit 12 peeked in from the doorway, her voice soft and careful.

Luthor gave her a nod and pushed himself up with his good arm. Only then did he realize that all the crystal chains had been removed. All that remained was the weightless collar at his neck and a short decorative chain hanging to his chest. Completely non-functional. As if left there solely to remind him of his new identity.

“Please don’t move.”

12 removed the brace from his injured arm. One hand supported his shoulder, the other gently lifted his forearm and rotated it for inspection.

The pain he’d anticipated never came. Luthor even tried flexing his elbow a little. The recovery was astonishing.

“What did you give me?”

“Nanobot for tissue and bone repairing,” 12 explained while preparing another injection, identical in appearance to the one 4 had administered yesterday.

“If you were Kryptonian, even without a yellow sun, you'd be fully recovered by now. But as a human, the dose had to be reduced tenfold. Even so, you may experience lingering fatigue as a side effect.”

Luthor watched the solution being pushed into his bloodstream and couldn’t help but wonder how much more miracle-level Kryptonian tech Superman was hiding away in the fortress, selfishly refusing to share it with mankind.

“Would you like to eat first, or bathe?”

“The latter.”

12 placed the medical supplies at the bedside, tapped several glowing controls on the wall, and revealed a walk-in closet.

To Lex’s surprise, it was his own bedroom’s wardrobe, fully transplanted here. A deeply unsettling realization surfaced in his mind: if the authorities ever obtained a search warrant and entered his penthouse, they’d find his personal belongings were gone. It would all but confirm that he had fled with premeditated intent. No one would suspect Superman. No one would come looking for him.

“Would this one be acceptable, Primary Consort?”

12 held up two robes, lifting the one made of silk with her left hand.

Lex nodded.

“Please stop calling me Primary Consort. Lex is fine.”

That title was soaked in implication and threat. If there were a "Primary," there could be a "Secondary." A "Secondary" might also once be a "Primary". It grated on his ears.

“But…” The robot’s optical lens flickered, like a flustered girl blinking in confusion. “Only Superman can call you by name here.”

“Then call me 'sir'.”

Lex slid his arm into the robe she held up.

“As you wish, sir.”

When Luthor submerged into the steaming spring, he could almost convince himself he was on vacation. No shouting at employees. No media. No need to pretend he cared about arm candy. The cold precision of 12’s mechanical limbs soothed him in a way that human touch never could. He always preferred dealing with machines over people.

“Do you have a name?”

12 didn’t stop rubbing the foam across his back. Her synthesized voice carried a hint of programmed surprise, as if this question had never occurred to her.

“None of us has names. Except Gary.”

“Who?” Lex sat with his eyes half-closed as 12 massaged his shoulders.

“Unit 4. He’s our team leader.”

Luthor opened his eyes and deliberately turned to look at her optical lens.

“Do you want one, Mercy?”

12 lowered her head, gaze falling to the number on her chestplate. Her mechanical voice softened:

“Mercy likes this name. Thank you, sir.”

Chapter 4: The Most Beautiful One Here

The next few days passed in a blur for Lex. He lived entirely by instinct, sleeping when tired, eating when hungry. No one abused him, no one restricted his movements, and not that it mattered—he couldn’t leave the Fortress of Solitude anyway. The gate only opened for Kryptonians. No one can come in, no one can get out. Somehow, he had been right: this crystal fortress was Superman’s secret harem. And he, along with the robots, was trapped inside it.

Superman hadn’t returned once.

In the past, he would’ve ordered his engineers to tap every satellite and surveillance feed on Earth to track Superman’s whereabouts. He couldn’t tolerate going more than twenty-four hours without seeing him.

But now… his absence was a relief. At least, that’s what Luthor told himself. The absence of Superman meant peace, and peace meant time to recover.

“Would you try moving your arm, sir? Carefully.”Mercy gently removed the brace. Her optical sensors blinked softly.

Luthor flexed experimentally. Full range of motion. His arm was as good as new. He thanked Mercy quietly.  

It had been a day since his last nanobot injection. The fog in his mind had lifted. Once his mind cleared, time no longer passed. It lingered.

He didn’t rush to map out the Fortress’ internal layout. That would’ve been far too obvious.

Even a serpent knows to coil before it strikes. Lex Luthor knew the value of waiting. 

“Would you like to take a walk to the observatory deck, sir?”

He wouldn’t say no to an opportunity like that. He had already noticed the Fortress had multiple levels. Judging by the sheer size of the structure, who knew how many secrets could be hidden inside?

The observatory deck was the crown jewel of the Fortress. Set at the highest point, it offered an unbroken view of the endless polar wilderness. The unsetting sun refracted through crystalline prisms, spilling light across the floor.

Surprisingly, Lex could feel a breeze, yet he couldn’t spot a single air vent. The temperate breeze gave him an illusion of freedom. But he knew better. Here was no difference from the transparent prison he’d once built for Superman: impossible to escape, even when you could see the outside.

“Did he come here often?”

Luthor gestured with a tilt of his chin toward a lounge chair.

Mercy nodded.

“The medical solar amplifier is only for emergencies. Superman prefers natural sunlight. He enjoys being alone here.”

Luthor didn’t comment further. He sat down in the chair and stared into the horizon, where white snow met blue sky.

“Does he have other palaces?”

“Palaces?”

“Where does he live… when he’s not here?”

The question was vague, but Lex had underestimated the smartness of Kryptonian AI. Mercy had no trouble reading between the lines.

“To date, Superman has not admitted any other humans into his harem.” She paused, “And besides...”

Robots had no emotion, but somehow Mercy’s voice managed to sound faintly amused.

“You are the most beautiful individual in the Fortress database. I believe Superman will return to you the moment he can.”

“What?!”

Luthor had heard tons of compliments, some true, some inflated: brilliant mind, youngest billionaire, Metropolis' crownless king, etc.

But beautiful?

That was for the women around him, not him. No one had ever called him beautiful.

“From a Kryptonian perspective, sir, you are extraordinarily attractive. Oh—wait!”

The feminine robot suddenly rummaged through a hidden compartment in her frame and pulled out something resembling a tablet. She handed it to Luthor with both hands.

“Superman wanted you to have this. I thought you needed more rest, so I didn’t give it to you right away.”

“It’s fine. Thank you, Mercy.”

Luthor tapped the screen a few times. Not surprisingly, it’s a reading device that wasn’t connected to any network. But it held a surprisingly rich selection, something like a pocket Kryptonian library, complete with a translation interface.

Mercy silently brought him snacks and water, then retreated to the lower levels to rejoin her fellow units.

Luthor wasn’t unexpected to find no information directly related to Kryptonian tech or weapons. Anything that hinted at such topics was limited to public-friendly summaries. With nothing of value available, he resigned himself to skimming through history and literature just to pass the time.

And that was when he realized Mercy hadn’t been exaggerating.

Kryptonians worshipped baldness.

Due to genetic rarity, there had only been four hairless individuals in Kryptonian history. All four had gone down in legend. Their appearance was considered iconic, idealized symbols of beauty.

He’d assumed Superman kept him here for revenge, plus the added convenience of harvesting prime genetic material for his offspring.

It had never crossed his mind… that desire might have played a role.

As a successful man, Luthor knew all too well what that meant. Desire interfered with reason. Even if he’d never fall for any of his ex-lovers, he’d often found it hard to say no to them. And when it didn’t violate his principles, he’d made compromises.

He slipped the tablet into the pocket of his robe, stood beneath the refracted sunlight, and stretched.

Meanwhile, he sifted through memories of lovers who’d made an impression.

If he could design 2,500 combat strategies to defeat Superman, then he could just as easily distill that knowledge into seduction techniques.

Same game. Different angle.

Lex Luthor was a pragmatist. He would use anything to achieve his goal, even his body.

Chapter 5: The Treasure in His Harem

Clark’s romantic history wasn’t exactly extensive, but it was far from lacking. Even as Clark Kent, he had his share of sweet girls sending long glances in high school hallways. In Metropolis, there had been male coworkers who'd tested the waters with suggestive texts and lingering smiles. If he found them appealing, he never turned down an invitation. He never hesitated to make one, either.

Falling in love was easy. It happened in a flash.

But maintaining love? That was where things fell apart—day by day, moment by moment, until the weight of it collapsed inwards.

Like any boy transitioning into manhood, he’d asked his parents: How do you start a marriage? How do you make it last?

Jonathan hadn’t sugarcoated it.

“Make sure you love her. Make sure she loves you. Propose to her. Marry her. Then, hold your tongue. Step back. Bite it down again and again.”

Martha had sighed his name in disapproval, but muttered under her breath.

“I’ve put up with you for years, too, haven’t I?”

Marriage was the graveyard of love. But if everyone was still willing to climb into the casket willingly, there had to be a reason.

Clark had tried, but he hadn’t found the answer. And he was tired.

His birth parents offered a new solution.

He didn’t need dating. He didn’t need marriage. Human morality contradicted itself from one place to another. As a Kryptonian, he shouldn't be bound by it.

With the super vision, he saw the figure on the Fortress’ highest platform long before reentry. Like a doll behind glass, too exquisite to be real.

Had it not been for Green Lantern whining about “a quick favor,” he never would have left Earth before fully unwrapping his first treasure.

He had only ever known Lex in suits, immaculate, sharp, always poised to give a speech or take over a boardroom.

But this...This was a Lex he had never seen before.

Draped in a plush robe that barely reached his knees, chest exposed, legs bare, he lounged barefoot on the recliner, half-sprawled as he scrolled through a reader in one hand.

A crystal prism split the sunlight into a soft rainbow across his brow. He rubbed his eyes lazily, like a cat shifting positions in its sleep.

The sight made Clark smile without thinking.

There were many gates to the Fortress. All of them opened for the son of Krypton.

“Your arm’s healed?”

The crystal window of the observatory slid open without a sound. Red boots touched down with weightless grace; the cape settled into place behind him like falling silk. Superman entered the Fortress

Caught off guard, Luthor rose too quickly. He stood there, watching the weary ruler of the Fortress walk toward him. The band of rainbow light, once caught on his brow, had slipped and now rested on his lips.

“Superman…”

He had heard Luthor snarl that name a hundred times. But never like this.

So soft. So nervous. So—inviting.

“My consort.”

Clark hooked the short crystal chain at the center of Luthor’s collar, twisted it around one finger, and pulled him in.

He kissed the rainbow off his lips.

And just like that, he understood the true benefit of having a harem—No need for sweet talk. No effort to earn affection. He likes it. He takes it.

He slid his hand inside the robe. And blinked in surprise. There was nothing underneath. He cupped the bare skin again, double-checking.

“You little whore!”

He released Luthor’s lips with a lazy laugh and tugged at the belt. The robe spilled open. 

But Luthor only smiled, kissed his throat, and mumbled against it.

“There’s no living being in this fortress but you. What do I need shame for?”

“So quick to forget the past? That’s not like you, Luthor.”

“As you said, you're going to give me the most perfect creation of my life. What could I possibly complain about?”

Luthor’s hand rested flat against Clark’s chest, the other slowly traced the sharp, iconic shape of the S on his suit.

“Unless...” he added, voice dipping silkily, “You don’t like this?”

Clark all but tore his own suit off in response. There was a half-second when his cape clouded his vision, but by the time he looked again, Lex was already kneeling on the floor.

Those wide, deceptively innocent blue eyes gazed up at him with no shame, no fear—only the anticipation of someone offering themselves to a god.

Not even in Clark’s filthiest dreams had the scene ever played out like this.

Damn it.

Lex had even tucked his hands behind his back, kneeling straight, mouth slightly open, waiting for his cock.

Clark didn’t hesitate. He gripped himself at the base and brought it to Lex’s mouth.

Lex flinched. The tip smacked his cheek, leaving a wet streak on that smooth, infuriatingly beautiful face.

But then, he tilted his head, let his tongue slip out, and tasted it.

Then slowly he drew the head into his mouth and closed his lips around it.

“Use your hands.”

Clark sank down onto the recliner, legs parted to give him space.

Lex obediently crawled forward, cupping his balls with both hands as he tried to take more.

Halfway down, he gagged. He looked up, eyes glassy, rimmed with tears.

“You don’t have to push yourself.” 

Clark murmured, fingers stroking gently over the smooth skin of his consort’s scalp.

But Lex didn’t release him. Instead, he moved slower, deeper. His lips tightened, his tongue swirled, and his teeth grazed the underside of Clark’s cock just enough to make his breath hitch.

Finally, Clark moaned. His hips started to move on their own.

“Welcome back, Superman. Apologies for the interruption, but we need—”

Unit 4 had appeared silently at the elevator.

Clark didn’t even look up.

“Out!” he snarled. “Do you not see I’m busy? Give me a moment alone with my consort.”

Lex didn’t see the robot leave when Clark yanked him off the floor, flipped him over, and bent him forward across the recliner.

The nearest crystal column reflected them perfectly.

He stared into the polished surface, eyes locked on how the great Superman, like a beast in heat, rutted him with near-animalistic fervor.

Lex smiled.

Chapter 6: Good Things Take Time

Lex was starting to wonder whether the orphan of Krypton had been weaned off physical affection too early, which might explain his overwhelming fixation on kissing.

They weren’t lovers. They weren’t even friend with benefits. There was absolutely no reason for anything beyond fuck.

And yet Superman couldn’t stop kissing him.

Even after they’d moved from the observation deck to the bedroom and finished round two, Kal-El’s mouth remained relentless, lips and tongue claiming him as if Lex’s breath belonged to him.

Not that Lex was complaining. Surprisingly, Superman was an excellent kisser, almost as impressive as he was in bed. Still, even the most exquisite technique grew tiring when applied without end.

Lex tried to push the wall of muscle pressing down on him. Unsurprisingly, it didn’t budge. He remained pinned beneath that iron body, forced to yield to every lingering touch, every renewed kiss.

Until, suddenly, that seemingly immovable mass lurched.

Superman’s body dipped heavily onto his, the kiss breaking mid-breath.

“—Krypto!”

Clark swore, immediately lifting himself off Lex.

At first, Lex didn’t see what had landed on the man’s back. Then came a series of sharp, excited barks, and a chill ran down his spine. The memory surged before he could suppress it—of fangs clamping onto his arm, of being shaken like a ragdoll in front of his staff.

A fluffy white blur bounded across the bed, circling once. Its wet nose immediately found the damp patch on the sheets and began sniffing with professional curiosity.

“Off! Down—now!”

Clark’s voice snapped through the room. He pointed to the floor beside the bed.

The dog obeyed.

With a leap, it landed neatly on the ground and sat down, tongue lolling, staring happily at the two naked men in bed.

Lex yanked up the corner of the silk sheet and pulled it over his hips.

He instinctively leaned toward Clark, realizing with a touch of horror that the dog had likely been in the Fortress for the past days, hiding in some dark corner, unseen.

“Don’t worry,” Clark murmured, sliding one arm around Lex’s waist and casually groping his soft, overused cock beneath the sheet. “He knows not to hurt you.”

Lex exhaled sharply. “He doesn’t need to try to hurt me.”

Clark winced. The ache in his back told him Lex was right.

“If you really hate having him around, I can send him away.”

Kara always claimed Krypto was hers. Clark had never agreed to hand him over. He didn’t trust her not to get drunk and lose the dog in another dimension.

As if understanding the betrayal, Krypto laid down dramatically, ears drooping and paws tucked beneath his chest in sorrowful performance.

“That’s not necessary,” Lex said after a pause, reaching out with a cautious hand, fingers trembling ever so slightly. “He didn’t bother me while you were gone.”

The dog immediately perked up, pawed at the edge of the bed, and pushed his head into Lex’s palm, tail wagging as he nuzzled affectionately.

“Good boy,” Lex murmured, scratching behind his ear.

From the hallway, Gary's metal frame appeared in the doorway. He paused before speaking, voice perfectly flat.

“May I request a moment of your time, Superman?”

“Go ahead,” Clark said.

Lex patted the mattress beside him. Krypto jumped up without hesitation and curled at his side above the blanket, letting Lex absently stroke his fur while pretending not to eavesdrop.

“I regret to inform you that the initial attempt at reproduction has failed.”

Clark sat up, frowning.

“What? I thought everything was ready.”

“All preparations were executed precisely according to your parents’ procedure. However, for unknown reasons, no embryo formed.”

Clark’s tone darkened. “So what now?”

“Further attempts will require additional samples.”

There was a silence.

Clark stared into the emotionless lenses of Gary’s optical array.

“You’ll get them,” he said after a moment. “You’re dismissed.”

Lex patted Krypto. The dog obediently hopped down and padded off behind the robot.

Lex didn’t speak immediately. He simply rolled onto his side, propping his chin in one hand and watching Superman digest the failure.

“This isn’t unusual,” he said softly, voice low and soothing. “You have no idea how many times I failed before I finally cloned a flawed version of you. And you’re trying to create something entirely new.”

Clark slowly lay back beside him.

Their eyes met.

“You’re not disappointed?” he asked.

Lex smiled faintly.

“No. Good things take time. And I know you won’t go back on your promise to me.”

He reached up, brushing the curl from Clark’s forehead, fingers lingering against the warmth of his temple.

“Want me to help keep an eye on them? Might speed things up.”

Chapter 7: Queen of the Fortress

Lex was back in a buttoned shirt and tailored slacks, as if his forced vacation had ended and he’d returned to the office. The only thing he couldn’t put back in place was the top button due to the crystal collar around his neck. He tucked the short length of chain inside his shirtfront, preserving a shred of his dignity.

“Dr. Luthor, your review is requested.”

Inside the Fortress’s lab, the robots no longer addressed him as “Primary Consort.”

Lex had his title back. His rhythm. His sense of purpose.

All was well if he ignored the minor technicality that he was still responsible for warming Superman’s bed.

He couldn’t access the Fortress’s supercomputer or Kryptonian central databases. The materials granted to him were limited to basic medicine and anatomy. Compared to the useless poetic archives, they were priceless. So Lex devoured every byte.

He had no formal background in reproductive biology. He couldn’t find any fault in Jor-El and Lara’s protocols. But his instincts screamed that the flaw was obvious. He just wasn’t being allowed to see it.

The robots weren’t lying. He tested it himself. No matter what he tried, he couldn’t get Superman’s cells to fuse with his. After co-incubation, his cells began to deteriorate after a set period, shrinking and collapsing, and no longer able to withstand the required bioelectrical stress. The project kept stalling.

“You haven’t slept in twenty hours, sir. Shall we rest now?”

Mercy handed him a cup of tea, speaking with that same soft clarity she’d adopted in recent days.

“You should eat. Rest a little. Superman is likely to return today. We’ll monitor everything here. You can review the data after you’ve refreshed.”

Lex took the tea and nodded, quickly typing a few reminders into the system before getting up.

He knew very well. He couldn’t sleep much when Superman was home. He had to recharge before the Kryptonian came back.

As he stepped out of the lab, Krypto sprang from some unknown corner and began circling his legs. Lex stopped and gave the dog two brief strokes, more to avoid tripping than affection.

He’d considered using the creature to escape. After crunching the odds, he shelved the idea—for now.

Mercy had left food on the kitchen bar. Lex took a few bites, then fed the last piece of bacon to the dog.

Krypto chomped halfway through it, then suddenly perked up, tail wagging, and bolted toward the entrance.

Before Lex could react, the massive gate of the Fortress slid open with a thunderous hiss.

“HOME, sweet home! Kal, you here? I’m baaaack~!”

Lex stared, stunned, as a girl stumbled inside—face flushed, cheeks red, clutching an almost-empty bottle of glowing blue liquid.

Krypto launched himself at her. She collapsed to the floor with a laugh, not angry at all.

“Good boy! Missed me, huh?”

Lex could only watch in disbelief as the dog tugged on her jacket and dragged her half across the polished floor. Her skull hit the ground repeatedly with a crack, denting the tile. She only laughed harder.

A Kryptonian?! A female Kryptonian?!

Kara blinked hazily at him. The fall seemed to sober her slightly. She lay on the floor, staring at the unfamiliar, slack-jawed man above her.

“Ooooh—who’s the pretty thing?”

Lex’s face turned stone.

“Who are you?”

“Who am I? Pfft, who are you? You’re in my house asking me who I am?”

Kara staggered to her feet, hiccupped, and squinted at him.

“Wait—never mind, I get it now.”

Even drunk and wobbly, she spotted the collar around his neck instantly. She lunged forward, yanking the short length out from his shirt with a smug little hum.

“You’re the pretty little bitch Kal’s been hiding in here!”

She clicked her tongue twice and gave him a slow once-over.

“Not bad. Bet you scratch and bite. Just his type. He hates the docile ones. He does love a little bite.”

Her index finger wobbled in front of his face, poking his cheek with infuriating playfulness.

“Aww—I need to lie down. Just a nap. Five minutes. Tops.”

She turned and began wobbling toward Lex and Superman’s shared bedroom.

Krypto floated beside her, nudging her shoulder now and then to keep her upright.

“You’re going the wrong way,” Lex said coldly behind her.

Kara leaned against the doorframe and looked back, half her face hidden behind tousled blond curls.

“Didn’t Kal tell you? I used to sleep here first.”

She grinned.

“Nighty night, sweetheart~”

She tossed her hair, blew him a kiss, and slammed the door.

Lex stood frozen in the hall, the cold fortress wind brushing his cheek.

Chapter 8: You’ve Got Company

Sunlight spilled over the golden hair of the daughter of Krypton. Kara sat up, stretched, and let out a sigh of pure satisfaction. It had been far too long since she’d had a proper sleep in the Fortress’s main bedroom.

The crystalline Fortress rotated ever so slightly with the sun, ensuring the master suite remained bathed in warmth. Indeed, solar charging in the upper atmosphere was more efficient, but a nap in real sunshine was a blessing for the body and soul.

This room had originally been hers. Kal had protested, of course, but eventually relented. When she left Earth for deep-space travel, she'd handed over the bedroom reluctantly, but made no secret that it remained hers to use whenever she pleased.

Krypto, who had been curled up at the foot of the bed, perked up at the sound of her waking and leapt into her arms.

“My precious~” Kara squealed, smothering the dog in kisses. “I came back just for you. There’s a pet party soon. You’re going to be the coolest one. Let’s get ready!”

Halfway through her shower, Kara had a sudden thought: had she accidentally taken over her cousin’s shared bedroom?

She vaguely recalled, through a haze of hangover, that Kal’s new lover had looked pretty pissed when she stumbled in. But the Fortress had several guest rooms. It couldn’t be that big a deal.

“Krypto, come on! We’re gonna be late!”

Wrapping her damp hair in a towel, she turned to bathe the dog. Her mind wandered. Kal was lucky. Where had he found someone that pretty? Hopefully, the beauty had siblings. She wasn’t looking for anything serious yet, but it never hurt to keep an eye out. 

By the time Superman returned, Kara had already flown out of Earth’s atmosphere with her freshly groomed wingdog.

Superman had once seen the Fortress as a legacy, an artifact left behind by parents he had never met, as his secret base and last resort.

Like its architecture, the Fortress was grand, brilliant, and utterly cold. It had nothing to do with the word home.

And yet, he found himself returning here more and more compared to the apartment in Metropolis.

He headed straight for the master bedroom.

It was empty.

The bedding had been changed. The soft ivory linens he remembered were gone, replaced with clinical pale gray. The fabric was taut, not a wrinkle in sight, freshly made by the cleaning drones. Lex wasn’t here.

Clark paused. Listened. A faint sound drew him toward a guest suite on the upper level.

The door creaked open to reveal a darkened room. Inside, Lex lay still, his back to the door.

“Are you awake?”

Clark didn’t need an answer. He could hear the rhythm of Lex’s breath, light, shallow, nowhere near sleep. His question was just a declaration of his return.

Lex didn’t move, didn’t even turn.

Clark peeled back the blanket, and his suspicions crystallized. Lex usually waited for him naked. Tonight, he was fully dressed in flannel pajamas: collared shirt fastened to the top, loose pants tucked to the ankles.

“What’s going on with you?”

Clark slipped into the bed behind him and, without ceremony, pushed Lex’s waistband down to his thighs. His hand slid between warm skin and soft cotton, toward the familiar heat.

Lex’s body flinched, but didn’t resist, yet didn’t respond.

“Why don’t you go to her instead?”

Clark’s hand froze, then resumed. He spread Lex open, grinding his hips forward, letting the stiffening weight of himself press between his consort’s thighs.

“We broke up.”

He wasn’t sure how Lex knew about Lois. Then again, with the kind of creepy surveillance tech Lex had access to, maybe he shouldn’t be surprised.

“Broke up?”

Lex finally turned his head, just enough to speak. Without expression, he reached back and gently shifted Clark’s cock away from his body.

“With all these rooms, your harem’s got plenty of space. Why bother ending anything?”

Clark frowned, confused, irritated, and hard. He didn’t understand this game also didn’t want to.

“My harem is none of your concern,” he snapped, voice low, rough. “Stick to your role.”

In one motion, he stripped off the obstructing pajama pants, slid between Lex’s legs, and began lifting his shirt to kiss along the ridged muscles of his abdomen.

That always worked.

Lex was sensitive there. Once he was aroused, he’d forget the sharp words, the strange accusations. His body would remember how much it wanted Clark’s.

“My role?” Lex gave a short, mirthless laugh. “Tell me, what exactly do you think I am?”

Clark faltered, raising his head to find Lex staring down at him with all the warmth of glass.

“A bedwarmer? A sex slave? A project manager? A technical consultant? I don’t fuck my employees!”

Lex slowly sat up, legs folding, drawing the blanket over his lap.

“The people I do sleep with? I woo them. I cherish them. Especially in bed.”

He looked Clark in the eye, voice steel-edged.

“Trying to make you a super baby is no easier than warming your bed. Since your bed isn’t lacking in company, you’d better let me stick to one role.”

Clark’s blood was pounding in his ears.

“And if I don’t?”

He reached for Lex’s ankles. He didn’t even grip, just held. But Lex’s muscles tensed.

“Since when has anyone been able to stop Superman from doing what he wants?”

Clark let go of him instantly.

He stood without a word, pulled on the nearest shirt, and walked out without looking back.

Chapter 9: She's My Cousin

Clark didn’t need sleep unless he was exhausted from battle. But right now, he lay motionless on the king-size bed, unwilling to move.

He tried to jerk off, but his half-hardened cock refused to cooperate. The frustration only made things worse, so he gave up.

The bed suddenly felt too big. Clark needed something or someone on the other side of it to distract him from the fact that the one he truly wanted was sleeping in another room.

He whistled once.

Silence.

He tried again.

Still nothing.

Pulling on his pants, he shot up and swept through the Fortress in seconds.

“Where’s the dog?” he barked when he ran into Garry.

“Your cousin took him with her.”

“I told her not to! She’s going to lose—” Clark froze mid-sentence, staring. “Are you telling me Kara was here?!”

Hours later, Clark found Lex in the kitchen, calmly stirring coffee. He knew full well Lex hadn’t slept much. But he couldn’t just burst into Lex’s temporary bedroom to explain. He had to wait until Lex came out on his own.

“The girl you met... You’ve misunderstood.”

Lex didn’t even look up, just stirred his coffee in slow, concentric circles.

“Kara’s my cousin.”

Clark thought that was all it would take. Surely now, this entire misunderstanding would dissolve.

But Lex clearly didn’t agree.

“And?” Lex set the spoon down and brought the mug to his lips. “What you do with your harem is none of my business. Why bring this up with me?”

Clark stared at him, stunned, completely unprepared for Lex to throw his own words back at him like this.

“Listen to yourself. She’s my cousin, Lex. What the hell does that have to do with my harem?”

“If you studied human history, Superman,” Lex replied coolly, tasting the coffee and adding more sugar without missing a beat, “you’d find that consanguineous marriage among royals wasn’t exactly uncommon. Still isn’t. Whether she’s just your cousin, or something more... as you said, it doesn’t concern me.”

He walked past Clark, utterly composed, sipping his coffee with a detached elegance.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”

Their shoulders brushed as he passed. Only once he reached the lab and shut the doors behind him did Lex allow the mask to slip.

He tried to focus on the literature, but his mind wouldn’t cooperate. In the past, every failed Superman-related scheme had simply become fuel for the next. But now, he couldn’t even tell what exactly he was angry about.

“Are your eyes bothering you, sir?”

Mercy had pulled up comparison data on the side monitor for easier reference. Lex had been rubbing his eyes without realizing. Sleep deprivation and stress were catching up.

“Nothing serious.”

“Try these,” she offered, handing him a pair of glasses. “They may help.”

Lex took them, assuming they were basic reading glasses. He put them on. Of course, they fit perfectly, even though no one had ever measured him. The Fortress was full of Kryptonian wonders. This was hardly impressive.

The glasses did help. His eyes stopped burning, but his brain didn’t. He should go to bed since Superman wasn’t here, but there was no point. He wouldn’t sleep anyway. At least research felt productive.

If Mercy had been human, she would’ve made an exceptional assistant. She knew when to speak, and more importantly, when not to. She left food and water within easy reach, without reminders or commentary. Lex didn’t even notice the donut box beside him until his stomach finally growled.

“Where did this come from?”

It was impossible that he could get minidonuts in the Fortress, especially from his favorite store.

“Superman dropped them off two hours ago,” Mercy replied.

Clark returned to the Fortress uneasily. Lex hadn’t greeted him. The master bedroom was spotless and empty. 

Disappointed, Clark changed into loungewear and headed to the bath.

The warm water rinsed off some of his tension. He stepped into the bedroom, toweling his hair dry, hesitating whether to go find Lex—

Only to stop dead.

Lex was there, lounging on the bed like nothing had happened.

He wore a black silk robe, half-open, draped artfully across his body. The sheen followed the slope of his chest, the curve of his waist, down to where one leg bent slightly—revealing a pale stretch of thigh before vanishing again under dark folds.

Clark’s throat tightened. Blood surged to his groin.

He crossed the room quickly.

“I take it you accepted my gift?”

His gaze flicked to the donut box on the nightstand. It had been opened, a few gone.

“You didn’t even know what flavor I like, did you?”

Lex picked up the last chocolate-covered donut between two fingers.

“That’s why I bought all of them.”

Clark sat beside him. His lower back barely touched Lex's exposed thigh.  

“This one’s my favorite.” Lex held the donut up. “Wanna try?”

Clark instinctively opened his mouth. Lex fed it to him slowly, his fingers brushing against Clark’s lips. Sticky chocolate clung to his skin.

Lex licked his own fingertips, not looking away.

“Next time, buy more of this.”

Then he picked up a caramel-flavored donut, smiling,

“I like this one too. Want a taste?”

He bit into it himself.

Clark didn’t answer. He leaned in, gently pressing his lips to Lex’s, chasing the lingering sweetness between his teeth.

 

Chapter 10: Come On In, Kal

Clark loved kissing, probably more than sex itself. There was something indescribably intimate in the way soft lips tangled with his, in the damp warmth of shared breath brushing against his skin like featherlight static. Months ago, he never imagined his nemesis would be so addictive. He loved how Lex would unconsciously lean into him, melting, pliant, in his arms.

But tonight, Lex was too soft.

Sensing the kiss grow sluggish, Clark pulled back an inch, propping himself up just enough to glance down at Lex’s half-lidded eyes, barely a thin sliver of blue beneath fluttering lashes.

“Getting sleepy?”

His voice held a note of disappointment. But before Lex's response, Clark was already shifting his weight, preparing to retreat.

Lex loosely hooked his legs around him, anchoring him in place.

“Go ahead,” Lex mumbled through a stuffy nose. Sleep crept over his body like fog rolling in. He buried himself deeper into the pillow and closed his eyes.

Clark's kisses moved lower, skimming over Lex’s chest and abdomen.

Half-asleep, it felt like a feather brushing along his skin, not unpleasant. Soothing, even. Hypnotic.

He felt thick fingers press gently to his rim. The cool slip of lubricant made him shiver, but not enough to open his eyes. One finger eased in, then another, stretching his tired body with maddening slowness. The pads of Superman’s fingers rubbed deliberately against that sensitive spot inside him, again and again. On any other night, Lex would have seized back control and ended this sluggish teasing. But tonight, exhaustion made him generous.

“If you don’t fuck me now, I’ll fall asleep.”

Lex’s voice was muffled in the pillow. He didn’t bother lifting his head.

“You’re not hard,”

Clark murmured, one large hand curled around Lex’s soft cock. He gave it a few languid strokes, slicking it with what remained on his palm.

Lex sighed softly, his hips giving a faint twitch. His whole body relaxed after that.

“Leave it,” he muttered, voice thick and hoarse like a half-formed dream.

His arms lifted clumsily, draping around Clark’s shoulders.

“Come on in, Kal.”

Those shut blue eyes didn’t catch the flicker of shock on Superman’s face. His foggy mind never registered the name he’d just spoken.

How Clark wished Lex had called him by the other name.

Sleep blurred the ache of Clark’s size. When he pushed in, there was no resistance. Lex let out a quiet groan, then drifted again, like someone lying in a small boat, rocking gently with the ripples, carried into sleep.

Clark pressed his forehead to his consort’s shoulder and came silently inside him.

He adjusted their position just slightly but didn’t pull out. One arm looped protectively around Lex’s waist. He stayed like that for a while, watching the other man’s sleeping face, then closed his own eyes with a quiet exhale.

A sudden burst of clumsy footsteps shattered the quiet.

Clark tensed instantly. His arm, still curled around Lex’s waist, reflexively tightened. Lex made a faint sound in protest, but didn’t wake.

“Sweetheart, let’s sleeeep—hic.”

Kara tossed a half-empty bottle to the floor and stumbled straight toward the bed. Krypto followed beside her, trotting like a cat on catnip, paws dragging happily across the floor.

“Don’t come in here!” Clark hissed under his breath. But it was too late.

Kara kicked off her red heels, flung her jacket toward the chair, and executed a perfect deadfall onto the bed. Her head landed on the pillow beside Lex with a dull thud.

The mattress bounced violently, jerking Lex halfway awake.

“Mm… this bed’s the best ever.”

Kara sighed in delight, throwing an arm over the body next to her, completely unaware of who it was.

Clark’s face darkened as he pried her arm off and yanked the blanket up in one motion, scooping Lex out of bed, carrying him in a bride style.

“Go back to sleep,” he said to Lex with a strained smile. “Apologies for the intrusion.”

“If she likes that bed so much,” Lex muttered, already letting his eyes fall shut again, “let her have it.”

He rested his head against Superman’s chest without opening his eyes.

**

“Sorry—I kind of lose my dignity when I drink too much.”

Kara gave a sheepish little scratch to the back of her head. The wild-eyed party girl was nowhere to be seen; in her place stood a sweet girl next door.

“It’s fine. I never liked that bedroom anyway. Too much sunlight.”

Superman hadn’t even had time to scold her before leaving the Fortress.

With Clark out and the project stuck, Lex had nothing better to do than watch Kara settle into the master bedroom. Girls had more things. She wouldn’t let the cleaning bots help with anything too delicate.

“Technically, that master bedroom should’ve always been mine,” Kara huffed. “Honestly, this whole Fortress should’ve been mine. I’m ten years older than Kal. I should be first in line for the Kryptonian inheritance.”

Lex raised a brow, sipping his tea to cover his smirk.

“You’re older than Kal? Could’ve fooled me.”

“I was!” Kara snapped. “I’m his cousin. His parents sent me to Earth to take care of him. Raise him, even. But the timing got messed up. His pod landed first, and I became the one who needed looking after.”

She puffed up her cheeks and blew her golden fringe out of her eyes with a sigh.

“Oh?” The mention of space travel piqued Lex’s scientific curiosity. “Even if you’re older, you still weren’t the ideal guardian. Why didn’t his parents come themselves?”

“Because the escape pods couldn’t carry adult Kryptonians! Not enough space and fuel.”

Kara carefully boxed up all her intergalactic souvenirs, gathered from half the known galaxy.

“Escape pods? I thought you guys could fly.”

Lex’s hand trembled slightly around his teacup. Something inside him stirred—like he was on the edge of grasping something vital.

“We can’t fly on Krypton,” Kara said lightly, “We’re not special there. We’re like humans on Earth.”

“…Why?”

Lex didn’t blink. He drew in a silent breath.

“Because—”

Kara checked her box one last time, then lifted it up and headed for the master bedroom.

“Krypton’s sun is red.”

Chapter 11: The Polar Night is Coming

Kara had stayed at the Fortress for a time, though things hadn’t gone smoothly between her and Superman. Lex could guess why—despite their shared blood, it was clear the two cousins had spent little of their lives under the same roof. What bound them together now was biology, not familiarity.

That, Lex understood all too well.

"Another fight with your cousin?"

Lex looked up from his reader toward the girl standing at the entrance to the observatory deck, absently stroking the white dog curled on his lap.

“Kal is completely unreasonable!” Kara huffed, plopping down on the seat across from him, eyebrows furrowed. “Krypto is my dog too! What’s wrong with taking him out? I told him I didn’t give him anything unsafe! Humans give their cats catnip, don’t they? But no, he says, I’m not allowed to bring Krypto to parties anymore. And told me to go out less!”

Lex chuckled and gave Krypto a pat. The caped dog immediately launched himself into the girl's lap and smothered her in licks until her scowl softened into laughter.

“To be honest, I’ve said similar things myself.”

“You have a sister?” Kara asked, lifting Krypto to press two enthusiastic kisses to his snout.

“A younger one.” Lex set down the reader and rubbed at his temples with a sigh.

“Married?”

It was a strange and sudden question, but Lex answered anyway.

“No idea. We haven’t spoken in years. She probably never wants to see me again.”

He turned to the window. The sky had been soaked in orange and crimson. The polar region was in a long dusk, unfolding the prelude to the endless night.

Kara might be simple, but she wasn’t naive. She didn't press the topic further. Her gaze followed his out the window.

“It’s beautiful…” she said, walking toward the glass. “Just like Krypton.”

It hit him then that the girl before him was one of the last living witnesses to Krypton’s splendor.

“You are my final descent beneath the red light.”

She turned, surprised to hear Kryptonian, and then gave Lex a faint, bitter smile.

“May you fall silent in the dusk,” she replied softly, finishing the poem in their native tongue.

She still remembered it. The first poem she’d learned as a child—not a love poem, but something closer to a hymn, a verse with quiet, sacred weight.

“You memorized it?” Kara blinked. “I thought no one else would ever remember that. Not anymore.”

“I didn’t have much else to do,” Lex replied, lifting the reader and waving it lightly. “It’s... a remarkable culture.”

“A dead one,” she said with a sardonic smile. “All that’s left are files. What’s the point? Sometimes I envy Kal. He doesn’t remember Krypton, so he gets to live without pressure. For him, this is home.”

And for the first time, Lex Luthor thought perhaps not all Kryptonians were so bad.

**

All scientists experience it at some point: the sudden, clean crack of realization.

Most of the time, research runs into dead ends. But when a breakthrough comes, it’s always the same—Ah. Why didn’t I think of that sooner?

The answer is often so painfully simple it’s embarrassing. The difference between genius and mediocrity is whether you keep digging when the solution brushes past your fingertips.

Rereading those elegant Kryptonian verses, Lex saw it: every line hinted at the truth.

All advanced civilizations worship nature in their own way. Where humans wrote of moonlight, Kryptonians wrote of red light.

It wasn’t poetic, it was literal.

And the spectrum of a red sun wasn’t even classified as secret. It was basic astronomy. The kind found in children’s books explaining rainbows through soap bubbles. The first “experiment” of every curious child. Kryptonian elementary texts were no different.

It took Lex a few days to piece together what he needed. But he got there.

Outside, the sky shifted from crimson to deep violet. The long night was coming.

Kara left just before true darkness fell, continuing her journey through the stars, still searching, hoping there might be a planet more like her home, or perhaps, somewhere out there, one of her people had survived.

**

“Sir! Come quickly!”

Lex didn't have time to remove his reading glasses before Mercy pulled him toward the microscope.

“After the light exposure, they’re coexisting!” she said, almost breathless despite her synthetic voice.

Lex bent over the scope, screening through samples. She was right.

All he had done was expose Superman’s sperm to low-level red sunlight for several hours, then co-cultured them with his own cells. The apoptosis issue that had previously persisted was gone.

In other words, Superman’s cells had stopped killing his.

“Unfortunately,” Mercy added, “they still can’t fuse.”

Lex thought he heard disappointment in her voice, even through the synth filters.

“Don’t say that. This is a significant milestone.”

He straightened and did his best not to let the victory show too obviously in his smile.

“You and I. We’ve earned a little celebration.”

He retreated to the bathroom, silently punching the air in triumph until the mirror caught his eye.

The celebration froze.

There, in the reflection, was a young man with red hair hanging loose over his shoulder.

Lex paused. Then removed his glasses. Rubbed his eyes. Looked again. 

After a beat, he put the glasses back on.

And then he understood.

No wonder all the most advanced facial recognition AI had failed to identify Superman’s alter ego.

Today must be his lucky day. 

Chapter 12: I’ll Keep You Warm

During the long six months that the Fortress of Solitude lay cloaked in darkness, Superman rarely returned. The facility relied entirely on pre-stored solar energy, most of it allocated to the medical chamber and solar lamp, reserved for the unforeseen needs of the son of Krypton. The Fortress no longer rotated like a sunflower. The robots moved only when necessary. Like a castle under a sleeping spell, the entire place had fallen into hibernation.

But this year was different. Clark had a reason to return to a base that could no longer sustain him.

Despite the eternal darkness, Lex kept to a strict routine. So Clark wasn’t surprised to find his consort reclining on the observatory lounge chair, casually reading as glowing texts and pictures hovered in midair above his lap. He was bundled in a heavy overcoat, the fur-lined collar swallowing most of his neck. His hands were cradling a cylindrical hand warmer.

“Didn’t take you for someone who’s into Kryptonian jewelry.”

Clark stepped in through the crystalline window, glancing at the projected pictures with a relaxed tone.

“Just read for fun. Clearing my head from serious stuff,” Lex replied, shutting off the projector. 

He blindly reached for his shoes, already bracing himself for the familiar ritual of warming Superman’s bed, until he looked up and saw the swirling green aurora curling across the pitch-black sky. It caught him off guard, enough to stop him for half a second.

“Wanna go out and see it properly?”

Superman had already come up behind him, arms slipping around his waist. He felt Lex tense.

“Probably not,” Lex said carefully. “It’s colder out there.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll keep you warm.”

Clark bent down and scooped him up.

Lex didn’t resist. He clutched the heater to his chest as Clark carried him into the silent night sky. The crystal Fortress dropped away beneath them. The wind stung his face, forcing his eyes shut, but even through the burn, there was something like joy. The kind a prisoner might feel when let out for a moment to breathe real air.

Clark’s body radiated heat like the sun. Lex buried his face in the man’s neck, the back of his head resting against the caped shoulder, and looked up.

The aurora stretched from their feet to the crown of the sky, swirling waves of emerald and violet rolling overhead like a celestial tide.

Superman hovered in the sky, holding him close as they both watched in silence.

“When I first learned to fly,” Clark murmured, “I used to come here alone. Or to the other end of the Earth. Just to watch this.”

Lex reserved his comments and listened quietly. 

“I always thought... this kind of view should be shared.”

“Do you say that to all your conquests?”

Lex propped himself up slightly, eyes half-lidded as he leaned in to press cold lips to Clark’s mouth.

“Between the two of us, you’re the one who knows how to conquer hearts.”

Clark’s tongue swept over his frozen lower lip like fire catching dry wood.

“I don’t talk much. I pay.” Lex said softly, fingers threading into his hair. “I find most people are easier to please with pretty little things.”

“Like this?”

Clark took the cylindrical hand warmer from Lex’s hands, unscrewed the lid, and plucked out a glowing, smoldering piece of charcoal. He closed his hand around it. When he opened his palm again, a diamond sat glinting in the remaining spark.

Lex blinked in surprise. It wasn’t until Clark placed it in his hand that he remembered to inspect it. He pinched the gem between his fingers, tilting it toward the aurora overhead. The crystal caught the light, pure green, sharp and vivid.

“You like it?”

“Mhm.”

Lex knew what Superman was waiting for.

He pressed the diamond to Clark’s cheek, dragging it down along his face with a teasing flick of his fingers.

“Let’s go back,” he said. “Let me give you something in return.”

**

Clark woke feeling strangely drained.

This was why he disliked the polar night. No morning sun to greet him. No warmth to ease into consciousness.

Only the dim glow of a single lamp by the bed, casting soft orange-red across the sheets.

Lex was still asleep. Clark kissed his forehead, dressed quietly, and left the room.

“You look unwell, Superman.”

Gary’s voice called out just as he approached the Fortress gates.

“I’m fine,” Clark said. Then paused, remembering something.

“Raise the internal temperature of the Fortress by ten degrees.”

“I’m sorry, but I must remind you that we are running low on available energy. The Kryptonian Reproduction Program has already diverted reserves from backup stores.”

Clark hesitated, but only for a moment.

“Redirect the solar lamp’s power to heating. It’s freezing in here. I’m not letting my consort shiver through the night.”

Chapter 13: The Kryptonite’s Sibling

Lex had once poured staggering amounts of time and money into searching for and studying kryptonite, until he confirmed that such a mineral could not exist on Earth. Only then had he set the matter aside, forced to look elsewhere.

Natural law was merciless that way. He could fabricate a pocket universe, yet not synthesize a single shard of green crystal. A mortal can never be like a god. He could not create something from nothing. He could only work within the rules already written.

That changed when he unlocked the secret of the red sun. He would never again dismiss the seemingly useless scraps of knowledge buried in Kryptonian public reading materials. If Kryptonians possessed no superpowers on their motherland, then kryptonite would not harm them there. Perhaps, on its world of origin, the mineral was known by another name or wore another form. Just as plastic, indispensable to modern society nowadays, was once marketed under the quaint name celluloid as a substitute for ivory.

Lex hadn’t expected any real breakthrough in this direction. It was only something to keep his hands busy while he patiently observed the effects of the red sunlight on Superman. But fate, or irony, had handed him a reminder straight from Superman himself. He turned over the diamond born of Superman’s godlike strength in his hand. A wave of disgust rose up. On Earth, such a stone took billions of years to form. To Superman, it was nothing but a party trick for courting.

The laws of the universe were simple. A finite alphabet of elements, permuted without limit, yields the riot of forms we call the world. Every chemistry textbook would tell you that drab charcoal and dazzling diamond were the same element, merely arranged differently.

Kryptonians had their own diamond.

Lex had once tried to damage the crystal collar locked around his neck, only to find it was impossible even to scratch the surface. The thing was unnaturally hard. One day, while Krypto bounded about the room vying for his attention, the dog knocked a small fragment loose from the wall. Lex had kept it, simply curious about the gem he had never seen before.

Who could have guessed the Fortress itself was Kryptonite’s sibling?

Through a spectral amplifier, the red sunlight flooded the microscope’s slide in blood-red light. Lex studied the lattice of the Kryptonian crystal, matching it facet for facet against the diagrams in gemological journals. He couldn’t turn lead into gold, but he could manually reorder the position of every atom. It would be a long project. But patience was one thing he had in abundance.

A single shard would suffice. Just enough to crown a ring.

**

Clark didn’t find Lex in the observatory deck or the bedroom, so he headed straight for the lab.

“What are you working on?”

The man bent over his work seemed startled by the intrusion. He turned sharply, trying to shield the screen from view.

The next moment, he was pulled into a firm embrace and shifted half a meter sideways.

“You’re designing a ring setting?” Clark’s eyes landed on the model displayed, his expression lighting with realization. A smile tugged at his mouth. “Are you going to wear the diamond I gave you?”

“Is that not allowed?” Lex leaned back into him, then deliberately changed the subject with disingenuous clumsiness. “Do you want to see the progress on the reproduction program?”

“Sure. Has our child taken shape yet?” Clark bent to kiss the bald head of his consort.

“Not that easy.”

Still held by the waist, Lex moved them toward another screen, pulling up the live feed from the cell cultures.

“Our cells are finally showing signs of merging. But I’m not risking the process with high-voltage stimulation. One misstep and it’s ruined. So we incubate longer, and see if fortune favors us.”

“Sounds reasonable. I like taking my time. Nice and slow.”

The shift in his tone left little doubt about which subject he meant. Lex caught the heat in it and obliged, turning in his arms to cradle Superman’s face between his hands.

“I need more samples for the experiment,” he murmured. “Give me more.”

Chapter 14: Under the Red Glow

Lately, Clark felt less like the master of the Fortress of Solitude and more like its delivery service. It had been far too long since he’d touched Lex. Every time he came home, dropping off fresh food and essentials for the robots, he was met either with Lex buried in his lab work or already passed out in bed.

He knew, rationally, that all of this was in service of their shared goal so they might one day have a blood son or daughter. But once you’d had a taste of that intimacy, the sudden absence of it left an itch under the skin.

“You should take a break,” Clark said, swallowing, doing his best not to sound as restless as he felt. “I’ve missed you.”

“We see each other almost every day.”

Lex finally glanced away from the instrument panel, feigning puzzlement, then smirked at the disappointment on Clark’s face. “When I’m done with this…” He stepped closer, brushed a kiss to Clark’s cheek. “I’ll make it up to you properly. When that day comes, I don’t want you holding back.”

Clark took the opportunity to pull him in by the waist and kiss him hard, stealing a few minutes’ relief before going back to being the Fortress’s most reliable courier. He even set up a small gym inside—cardio zone, weights, meditation room—all the comforts Lex used to enjoy outside. Since Lex couldn’t go out, he would bring the luxuries in.

One night, after working late at the Daily Planet and uploading his finished piece to the shared drive, Clark hurried back to the Fortress. He wasn’t surprised to find the bedroom empty, but before he could sigh in disappointment, he noticed the card left on the bed. Elegant cursive, short and seductive:

Come to the meditation room

In a flash, he was there.

The moment he opened the door, the sight rooted the farm boy to the spot. Ma and Pa were traditional farmers. Under their influence, Clark had never been a patron of anything remotely like a strip club. His only exposure was a single trip to a go-go bar with his college friends when they celebrated their 21st. The sultry red lights and the scantily clad, heat-drenched dancers had etched themselves into his memory.

Now, under the same kind of red glow, was Lex Luthor. Only he was dressed impeccably, as if heading to a board meeting.

“Why don't you come on in?”

He sat in a silk aerial yoga hammock with bare feet, legs suspended, swinging gently as if on a slow-moving playground swing. The warm red spotlight pooled over him like stage lighting, tinting his white tailored suit a soft, illicit pink.

Clark shut the door and crossed toward the only bright spot in the otherwise dark room.

Lex’s left hand looped the hammock’s silk once around his wrist, his right slowly undoing the perfect Windsor knot at his throat. The swing’s motion grew slightly, forward and back, until on one pass, close enough to touch, he let the tie slip free, flicking it lightly across Clark’s face.

“Keep it for me.”

By the time Clark had fumbled the tie down from his face, Lex was already leaning back, letting the hammock carry him upward and away. He moved like a yoga master, turning the swing counter-clockwise in smooth circles until it stilled. His one hand gripped the silk overhead, the other drifted to the buttons of his deep-violet shirt. With each button he slipped free, the hammock turned lazily in the opposite direction, offering a fleeting glimpse of skin before hiding it again, until his chest and the ridges of his abdomen were bare under the warm red light.

Lex gave a sharp roll of his shoulders and the shirt slid from his arms, dropping to the floor. The light carved his waist into clean, solid lines, taut and temptingly precise. With a shift of his hips, the hammock swung again. He used the motion to extend one leg, the crook of his knee hooking neatly over Clark’s shoulder and pulling him into the circle of red light.

Clark’s hands went instinctively to his waist. Before he could steady him, the other leg looped up and around, winding like a serpent at the back of his neck. It drew him close enough to catch the faint scent between his lover’s thighs, muted by fabric, but still intoxicating. He leaned in, wanting more, but Lex was already gone, twisting away into a series of controlled inversions. Suspended upside-down, gripping the silk with both hands, he looked at Clark with a gaze equal parts lure and mockery. His spine was a perfect line, his abs drawn taut by the hold.

“Stop teasing me, Lex.”

Annoyed and aroused, Clark caught the swing on its next pass, cradling Lex’s neck and the back of his head. The smooth warmth under his palm was impossible to resist. He stroked over the curve twice before meeting Lex’s inverted gaze.

Lex’s mouth curved. His tongue flicked out, slow, deliberate, over his lips.

“Come and get it yourself.”

Chapter 15: Every Drop is Mine

Clark couldn’t tear his eyes away as Lex swallowed him down, inch by inch. The fragile line of his throat betrayed every detail. His neck stretched taut, the thick shape of Clark’s cock bulging obscenely beneath pale skin. Each swallow made his Adam’s apple bob, sin made visible, so lewd it was almost cruel.

Upside down in the hammock, Lex’s mouth was no longer just a mouth. It was a slick, unyielding channel, tighter than any sex toy, flexed and convulsed around him, swallowing as if to drag him deeper. His Kryptonian seed sacs were so full they brushed against Lex’s cheek.

Clark panicked, staggering back half a step, half his body slipping out of the crimson glow. His cock slid free, wet and aching.

“Doesn’t this hurt you?” he asked, still cradling Lex’s skull to ease the impossible angle.

“Not at all.”

Lex’s voice was rough, rasped raw, but his smirk was unbothered. The hammock swung again. He leaned in and flicked his tongue across the head of Clark’s cock in a quick, taunting lick. Clark’s mind went blank. By the time he realized, he had already stepped back into the light, sinking once more into that molten heat.

The swing gave him rhythm, forcing him to fuck into Lex’s throat again and again. Lex bent his head back to the limit, throat stretched tight as a bowstring. Clark couldn’t resist. His hand pressed against that delicate column, feeling himself moving inside, the obscene friction almost too much.

“You’re—God, you’re beautiful like this.”

He held Lex’s head with one hand and clamped the other over Lex’s grip on the silk, pushing and pulling to drive the hammock faster. The brutal pace had him roaring, seconds from release.

And then it was gone.

The suction vanished, Lex pulling off him with a wet gasp, spit shining on his swollen lips. Clark’s climax collapsed back into his heavy, aching balls, the weight of it almost painful.

“Lex!” he growled, voice breaking on the name. Regret flashed at once, worried he’d ruined the mood.

But Lex only laughed, snapping upright with impossible grace, swinging his legs around Clark’s waist and arms around his shoulders.

“You said you liked it slow,” Lex purred, tracing an invisible S across Clark’s chest. “And if nature allowed, you’d have knocked me up already. But even if I can’t give you a heir that way…” He caught Clark’s hand, pressing it against his flat stomach. “…don’t you want to fill me until I swell? Until I look like I’m carrying your pup?”

The filthy promise set Clark’s vision spinning. He couldn’t even think of saying no. With a growl, he ripped away the last of Lex’s clothing, his pants.

Lex only smiled, grinding shamelessly against his body, silk ropes twisted tight between his thighs.

“Tonight, you don’t get to finish so soon,” he whispered, kissing the space between Clark’s brows. “Every last drop is mine.”

Clark nearly spilled right then, but forced himself to hold back. His balls grew heavier, tighter, aching with every denied release. He squeezed Lex’s ass hard, sliding his fingers between the cheeks, only to hit something solid.

“A little surprise,” Lex murmured, not the slightest bit embarrassed. “When you’ve filled me, you can seal it all in.”

“You’re filthier than I ever imagined,” Clark groaned, tugging the crystal plug free and replacing it with his thick fingers, pressing mercilessly against the spot he knew too well.

“Then punish me.” Lex moaned, twisting the silk tighter around his thighs until his legs were spread wide, body strung open. “I can’t move at all.”

Clark grabbed the discarded tie from the floor and blindfolded him. Lex’s body was ready, stretched and hungry, and Clark drove in to the hilt in one thrust. He stilled, fighting down another orgasm, his Kryptonian balls so heavy now they slapped audibly against Lex’s ass with every movement.

The pleasure was overwhelming. His beautiful, maddening consort yielded sweetly, rocking back onto him in the swing, strung up like an offering.

“Let me come inside you, Lex,” Clark begged, clinging to the ropes to keep from collapsing, rutting shallowly, desperate.

“Not yet.” Lex tore the blindfold off, seized his face, and kissed him hard. “We’re changing positions.”

The hammock unfurled beneath him. Lex sprawled on his stomach, ass high, taking Clark in again with ease. He reached back, cupping the swollen weight of Clark’s Kryptonian cum sacs, now round and taut, stretched almost smooth.

“Lex…” Clark groaned, raw, nearly breaking.

“Breed me, Kal.” Lex squeezed around him hard.

The world shattered. Clark came with a violent shudder, endless, pouring everything into him until his knees buckled. He collapsed onto his hands, gasping, shaking, emptied.

“How does it feel?”

Clark lifted his head, groaning again. Lex was sitting back in the hammock, smiling as he slid the crystal plug back in. His belly was slightly swollen under the red glow.

“You came so much. I’m full and going to burst.” He caressed the swell of his abdomen, eyes glinting. “Don’t you want to touch?”

“Just… give me a second,” Clark panted, forcing a smile, hand pressed to his forehead. His desire had been wrung dry, leaving pain pounded in his skull like a warning.

“Oh?” Lex pulled his pants back on, stepping down from the hammock like a king descending his throne.

“You lasted longer than I expected, Superman.”

Chapter 16: Crown of Thorns

Lex watched the color drain from Superman’s face, the subtle shift of his expression as realization crept in. A pleased smile curved his lips. He glanced up at the crimson overhead lamp, then looked back down with mock sympathy.

“You probably don’t recognize this—red sunlight,” he said casually. “It drains your energy. Slowly, yes. But clearly… if one’s patient enough, it works rather well.”

Clark was on all fours, panting hard, only able to make out Lex’s polished shoes and trouser hems. His breath caught in his throat. He tried to sit up, but his hand slipped, and he collapsed back onto the cold floor. Muscles that once held up worlds now trembled uselessly. Naked. Exposed. He curled inward instinctively, covering what little he could, clinging to a shred of dignity.

“This… all of this was your plan?”

The words came out like a gasp, as if he were breaking the surface after nearly drowning.

Lex crouched before him, smug and slow, like a man admiring a masterpiece. Just like last time, when a transparent cell had kept them apart—only now, Lex could touch him.

Gently. Almost tenderly, he brushed the sweat from Clark’s temple with the back of his hand.

“Did you really think I could ever love you?” Lex said, soft and cruel. “I'm your prisoner.”

As he leaned down, the leash of the crystal collar around his neck dangled forward, slapping lightly against Clark’s bare chest. Clark had forgotten all about it. He had stopped seeing it as anything but a necklace.

Shame and guilt burned hotter than the ache in his chest. But now wasn’t the time for regret. He needed to survive, needed a chance to explain.

Lex watched with idle amusement as Clark let out a sharp whistle.

Of course, the dog didn’t come. Lex had made sure of that.

“What did you do to Krypto?” Clark’s voice broke, panic flashing. He reached for the leash, but Lex easily dodged him.

“I like dogs,” Lex said smoothly. “The quiet kind.”

Something cold bloomed in Clark’s chest.

“You evil bitch!” he snapped.

“Evil?”

Lex laughed and pulled something small from his pocket. A lead box. He flicked it open. Inside, a ring glimmered—silver, encrusted with tiny diamonds, centered around one dazzling green gem. The very diamond Clark had given him, reshaped, reframed, weaponized.

As the green gleamed in the red light, Clark screamed. The sound tore from him involuntarily.

“Got a better word for me now?”

Lex slipped the ring onto his index finger and calmly pressed his palm to Clark’s chest.

Clark arched off the ground like he’d been hit with live current, a guttural cry echoing off the walls of the sealed meditation room.

Then, Lex hit him. A sharp, clean punch to the face.

Clark’s head snapped sideways. Blood burst from his nose, dripping to the floor, staining the red-lit tiles black.

“I call that one 1A,” Lex murmured by his ear. “Came up with it the day I first saw you.”

Lex’s fists rained down on him, each blow powered by red sunlight and kryptonite.

Clark didn’t block them, not only because he couldn’t, but because a part of him refused to.

“Why…?” he whispered. “Why, Lex?”

Lex finally paused, panting as hard as Clark. Their labored breathing formed a rhythm, violent and intimate. Clark’s lip was split. He licked the blood, wiped Clark’s face with the tie that had fallen to the floor, deliberately using the hand that wore the kryptonite ring.

“You really don’t understand, do you, Kal-El?” Lex said, low and dangerous. “Humanity does not worship gods for their power, but for their pain. It is not omnipotence that earns reverence. It is suffering beyond what any mortal could survive.”

He tossed the tie aside. His hand slid to Clark’s throat.

“And you? You stole the sunlight that was never yours. You never age, never bleed, never fear. No laws bind you. No guilt tethers you. You breathe, and the world bends. You exist, and you’re called savior or tyrant.”

His grip tightened. Kryptonite seared into Clark’s windpipe like a brand.

“You were never meant to be revered as a god. And you’re not a man either.”

Lex leaned in. His voice was a snarl now.

“If you were human, you’d know what it means to be powerless, to lose, to hurt, to hope even know it’s useless. But you didn’t. You never bled. You never broke. So don’t you dare call yourself one of us!”

Lex clamped both hands around Clark’s neck.

Clark met his fury with glazed eyes, chest rising in shallow, ragged gasps. His lips parted, but no sound came. His vision swam. He wondered, dazed, how many times this beautiful man had hurt before he learned to hate him like that.

“You’re nothing but a bug in the code of this universe,” Lex said coldly. “And bugs get deleted.”

Just as Clark’s limbs started twitching in protest, trying to pry the hands from his throat, Lex let go.

Clark collapsed to the floor, wheezing for breath, sweat and blood mingling on his skin.

“Oh. Right.”

Lex stood smoothly and strolled toward the corner of the room, toward the gym bag he’d stashed earlier.

“Before you die… show me the man behind the glasses.”

Chapter 17: The Ring Only You Can Wear

When Clark saw what Lex was holding, he used what little strength he had left to fight, palming his face, trying to hide.

“What are you afraid of, Superman?”

The hand with the kryptonite ring peeled his fingers away like paper. The other fisted in his hair and wrenched his head back. Clark squeezed his eyes shut as those all-too-familiar frames drew nearer.

“Open them.”

He shook his head weakly. The glasses settled on his nose anyway, inevitable as a verdict.

“Don’t make me kill the dog.”

Shock broke him. His eyes flew open. It was too late when he regretted. He was already staring into his enemy’s eyes and seeing the one person who shouldn’t be here at all.

“You…”

Lex froze for half a second, then laughed—a sound past anger, bright and wrong.

“Long time no see, Mr. Kent.”

The journalist with the notebook and the careful questions at pressers.

The country boy kept to the corner at media mixers, offering him a polite nod.

The interviewer who profiled him and ended with a mild, measured line Lex had cut out and kept:

He doesn’t feel like someone who wants to win so much as someone who refuses to lose.

“I like you, Kent,” Lex once commented. “You are… human. Nothing like Superman.”

Lex ripped the glasses off and flung them aside. The slap that followed cracked across an already ruined face. Clark’s head only tilted, numb to fresh pain.

“Must be quite a thrill,” Lex hissed, voice shaking, “watching the whole world fall for that harmless shell. Writing your own hagiography. Nudging the narrative long before I ever tried. Impressive. You outplayed me.”

His hands returned to Clark’s throat.

“You’re more dangerous than I imagined. On that basis alone, you deserve the severest sentence.”

He didn’t squeeze all at once. He leaned in instead, closing the airway notch by notch, studying the slow panic blooming behind blue eyes. He wanted to see the exact second the Kryptonian died at his hands.

He might have missed the change if not for the way his own body shifted against Clark’s hips, a hard line grazing the faint swell of his belly. Lex blinked, pressure easing by reflex. He glanced down and saw what had no business happening.

“You’re… hard?” His eyes narrowed, his mouth curved. “Superman turns on by breathplay?”

A ragged cough tore from Clark. He tried to bring his knees together, but Lex’s weight pinned him open. The smallest drag of contact made his breath hitch, shame flooding hot under his skin.

Lex tested a theory. He pressed his abdomen down mercilessly.

Clark’s answering groan was low and strangled. A tremor ran through him from head to toe.

“I see,” Lex murmured.

His grip on Clark’s throat felt the faint quiver of a life he could end with one more turn of the wrist. That realization—absolute control, life and death balanced in his palm—tightened something dark inside him.

He was hard, too.

He let go at last and settled astride, knees bracketing Clark’s hips.

Superman remained still. Resistance was long gone. His strength had bled out somewhere between the red sun lamp and the ring. Lex caught one of his hands and set it on his curved belly.

“Go on,” he said softly. “Say goodbye to our baby.”

Clark’s pupils blew wide. His mouth worked soundlessly. His fingers pressed lightly on the flesh as if testing the impossible idea of a new life growing under the warm skin.

Lex watched his face, then loosened his pants with a single indifferent tug. He pressed their cocks together—skin to skin, flushed and sensitive—and wrapped them both in one firm, kryptonite-ringed grip.

“When the baby grows up,” he whispered, voice thick with venomous amusement, “should I tell them why their father never came home?”

The raw burn of kryptonite against his most sensitive nerves was unbearable, but Lex’s body, warm and close and maddeningly familiar, dulled the pain just enough to keep him hard.

“Lex… please…”

“Once more,” Lex said, accelerating the tempo of humiliation. “With me.”

Clark’s body jolted, cresting on a wave that was as much pain and shame as pleasure.

The plea broke something loose. Lex came too, collapsed onto Superman’s chest, spent and trembling. He hadn’t even caught his breath when the collar around his neck snapped tight. His eyes flew open in shock, just in time to see the dying Kryptonian summon one last, impossible surge of strength: one hand yanked the crystal chain taut, the other tore the kryptonite ring free, which was slick with both of their release.

The killing blow never fell. The ring wasn’t even thrown. Clark turned it. With shocking gentleness, he slid it onto Lex’s left ring finger desperately.

“My consort,” he whispered.

All the strength he had left went with the words. The dark rose up and took him.

Chapter 18: Ashes of Mercy

Steam hung thick in the air. Water slid down the tiled walls like veins of light, while Lex braced both hands against the cold stone, letting hot streams pound down on his head and shoulders.

This should have been a moment of victory.

Before stepping into the shower, he had completed every step of his carefully laid plan: He had drawn the warm sperm from his own body and spun it down to isolate only the reproductive cells collected from a depowered Superman. Those cells were weakened by red sunlight and finally susceptible to fusion. Now, they were incubated with his cells safe and sound. 

He was 100% sure this time the fusion would succeed. The miracle he’d spent a lifetime chasing was almost in reach. He should be elated. Triumphant. Breaking open a bottle of champagne.

Instead, he kept turning the ring on his finger.

The weapon he had so carefully prepared for the final act, his ultimate trump card against Superman, at the last moment, had been turned into something else.

Like a vow.

Or a curse.

The damn thing felt bewitched by that alien’s touch, impossible to remove. Its presence burned stronger than the collar still locked around his throat.

With a frustrated grunt, Lex slammed off the hot water, letting a cascade of cold drench his skull. He needed clarity. He needed to go back into that red-lit room and crush the Kryptonian’s heart once and for all. End this. End everything. Eradicate every trace—Superman, Kal-El, Clark Kent—all of it, gone from this world.

So why the hesitation? Why couldn’t he finish it? What the hell was he waiting for?

Lex gritted his teeth, killed the water, grabbed a warm robe, and keyed the Fortress’s internal comms.

“Mercy,” he said. “Do me a favor.”

Mercy found the Fortress’s master barely alive. But she didn’t panic. Instead, she knelt calmly beside the fallen body and began a rudimentary scan.

Lex liked robots because they could be rewritten. Compared to changing a human, that was far easier. Kryptonian robots were no exception. At their core, they were still code. But he had to approach them the way one approaches people, earn their trust first, and only then would access to their root programming be granted. The Fortress had too many robots for him to reprogram one by one. So, he’d chosen Mercy.

“Superman’s body temperature is irregular,” she said. “He’s feverish like a human.”

Without any visible effort, Mercy lifted Clark off the floor. That was the reason Lex had summoned her—he couldn’t move the man himself.

“Take him to the medbay. Start solar lamp exposure.”

Lex turned on his heel to leave, as if unwilling to spare another glance. Or, perhaps he just wanted to run away from here.

“Wait, sir,” Mercy called hesitantly. “That won’t be possible. There’s no more power for the solar lamp.”

Lex stopped cold.

“What did you say?”

“Superman rerouted all emergency solar energy into the Fortress’s heating system. To keep you warm.”

**

Clark stirred.

His eyes fluttered open into total darkness. He knew he was awake, but nothing came into focus—just smears of shadow, no definition.

Where am I? Heaven? Hell? Am I dead?

His thoughts drifted like smoke, too slow, too disjointed. He tried to lift his arm to rub his eyes, but the effort was too much. His limbs felt like stone. His body shivered violently, heat and cold in turns. The sudden tremor made him jerk, and it woke the one beside him.

A moment later, a soft light clicked on.

And Lex Luthor’s face appeared above him, expressionless as marble.

This couldn’t be heaven. Lex Luthor didn’t belong in heaven.

But it wasn’t hell either. Hell couldn't have a naked Lex in bed.

Without a word, Lex lifted his head and brought a cup to his lips. Clark opened his mouth out of habit, letting the bitter liquid flow down his throat. Poison, maybe. But he didn’t care. The ring on Lex’s hand grazed his cheek, hard and cold, but not painful. He didn’t flinch. He couldn’t.

His eyelids hung heavy. He watched as Lex reached for a syringe, tapped out the air, and gently turned his arm. Lex pressed down on the crook of his elbow, found the vein, and slid the needle in with practiced ease.

Clark saw the ring again: the green gem was gone, a harmless diamond in its place. He thought faintly that there must be a lead layer underneath, blocking the Kryptonite radiation.

“Go back to sleep,” Lex said simply.

The room went dark again.

Lex slid under the covers beside Clark and stayed still. 

Drawn by instinct, Clark pressed into the chill of Lex’s naked body. Their skin met, and sleep claimed him like a tide.

Chapter 19: I’m Also His Father

"Are you serious, Clark? Three months of unpaid leave?! What the hell is going on?"

Lois’s voice practically exploded through the phone. Thankfully, the Fortress's communication system was in perfect shape—clear, stable, and far too encrypted to betray his true location at the South Pole.

“It’s nothing serious,” Clark said, already wincing at how unconvincing he sounded. “You know… my parents are getting older. Minor health stuff. I just want to spend some time with them.”

He wasn’t good at lying. He knew it. But a lie that buys time is still worth telling.

Lois fell quiet on the other end of the line. Then, with a sigh, she asked softly, “We’re still friends, right?”

“Of course. Thanks, Lois. Thanks for… still caring.”

Clark couldn’t remember how he ended the call. All he knew was that he was suddenly very, very tired.

"Rough time explaining things to your girlfriend?"

The source of all his recent problems was standing at the kitchenette, calmly boiling water for tea. Two cups were already out, clearly intending to make one for him as well.

“We’re not together anymore,” Clark replied. “But I still had to tell her something. We work together.”

He didn’t know what he was trying to explain. Just like he didn’t know how he and Lex had ended up… here.

He had truly believed he would die. What came instead was worse. Superman had never known what it meant to be sick—feverish, freezing, sweating, shivering. It blurred the world into a string of restless hallucinations. Time meant nothing. Sometimes he thought there was a cool, steady body beside him. Sometimes bitter or sweet liquid was poured between his lips. He didn’t know how long it lasted.

All he remembered clearly was waking to Krypto’s slobbery tongue across his face and one white paw smacking him on the forehead.

His legs were still shaky when he got out of bed. Krypto padded beside him like a regular Earth dog should be, tail wagging.

In the shower, the hot water rinsed away the worst of the fever. When Clark stepped out into the corridor, he found Lex at the far end, holding a tray of food and coffee. Lex glanced his way and said evenly, “Hungry? The kitchen’s stocked. Help yourself.”

The tone was perfectly polite. Neutral. Like a considerate roommate.

From that point on, their interactions settled into something that could almost pass for peaceful cohabitation.

Lex kept to the lab, minimizing unnecessary contact. Also, they no longer shared a bed.

Clark had considered confronting him and demanding answers. After all, he was still technically the master of the Fortress, even without his powers. Every room should be accessible to him, including the lab and Lex’s bedroom.

But what would he ask? Why did you try to kill me? Or, why didn’t you kill me?

Maybe the red sun hadn’t just drained his powers. It had stolen the last of his reckless courage, too. For the first time in his life, Clark chickened out, pretending not to see the elephant in the room.

Lex brewed two cups of tea. He removed one tea bag and carried that cup into the lab. He didn’t say the other cup was for Clark. But it obviously wasn’t for the dog.

Clark sighed, picked it up, and wandered into the theatre.

Not having work to do—and being unable to save the world—made the days painfully dull. He had never imagined the Fortress might someday become a prison. Now he had no choice but to count the days until the sun returned.

Wrapped in a blanket, sipping lukewarm tea, scratching behind Krypto’s ears, Clark stared at an old movie. But the film was just background noise. He couldn’t focus on a single scene.

“Pardon the interruption, Superman.”

Clark turned. Gary stood at the door.

“It’s fine. What is it?”

“The Primary Consort requests your presence.”

Lex was standing in the lab when he arrived, back turned, long white coat skimming the back of his knees, outlining every inch of that elegant body.

He didn’t turn when he spoke. 

“I figured you had the right to see this.”

A few keystrokes, and the protective shell of the chamber slid open. A soft blue light filled the room, illuminating the vertical incubation tank.

Clark’s breath caught in his throat.

In the center of the tank floated a raw, crimson mass of flesh —barely formed, veined like a heart, glistening in the fluid that kept it alive. It had no face, no limbs, no shape that could be called human. But it was moving. Slowly. Rhythmically. Like something trying to learn how to breathe. Like something trying to be born.

Clark had always imagined the moment of seeing their child for the first time. He thought he’d cry. Thought he’d fall to his knees. Instead, he stood frozen, hand pressed gently to the glass.

“I didn’t know Kryptonians were non-binary,” Lex said behind him, hands in his labcoat pockets. His voice carried a hint of reverence as he stared at the growing life inside the tank.

“I suppose that makes me a father of both a son and a daughter, in one go.”

Clark turned to him. “What’s its primary gender?”

Lex looked striking under the soft light, like a statue carved from moonlight. Clark clenched his fists to resist the instinct to kiss him.

“He’s a boy.”

“We have a son,” Clark whispered, and the smallest smile pulled at the corner of his mouth.

Behind them, the soft tread of metal feet. Mercy’s voice followed. “Sir?”

“I’m aware.”

Lex slipped out of his lab coat, unbuttoned his cuffs, and rolled his sleeves up to the elbow, revealing the bruised skin beneath.

“What are you doing?”

Clark watched as Lex sat, resting his arm on the medical chair while Mercy wrapped the tourniquet around his bicep.

“Drawing blood. The culture medium requires fresh serum.”

His tone was clinical. He was in a good mood, or he wouldn’t have bothered explaining. Only then did Clark notice the bruises along the inside of his elbow.

“Wait.”

Mercy hesitated, needle poised.

“Use mine,” Clark said. “You’ve done enough already.”

Clark’s gaze met his for the first time in days—those beautiful, cold, unforgettable blue eyes.

“I’m also his father.”

The air between them stilled.

“…Suit yourself.”

Lex rolled his sleeve back down, stood, and vacated the chair without another word. He walked to the far side of the lab, even though there was nothing waiting for him there.

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 16 of Clex Chinese/English works