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Everyone has skeletons in their closet. Lex, though, has Superman action-figures.

If you were to ask him why he had a closet full of Superman merch…he'd probably throw you in a dungeon, or straight up have you killed.

It was an impressive collection, one that put into scope just how much merch had been created around Superman in the three years since his debut. The merchandise ranged from run of the mill action figures and plushies to novelty items like alarm clocks and table lamps. Wherever it existed, official or not, Lex had it.

He didn't bother trying to rationalize it, not wanting to spend precious brain power sorting through how tangible his obsession had become. But it wasn't an obsession, he'd tell anyone who knew about the collection it wasn't, and berate them for insinuating so. Tall, dark, and Martian wasn't his type.

Lex found that during his time in Belle Reve, he was anxious. There were several reasons why, like how his ratings were in free fall, or how he was cut off from his world-wide surveillance system, or how his plants needed watering.

In particular though, Lex found that his mind kept circling back to that alien, and the merchandise surrounding it.

What auctions was he missing? That Balenciaga jacket themed around Superman's outfit was due to debut any day now. He'd missed the release of a limited time LEGO set. At least he wouldn't have a hard time getting the Superman themed cake mix and frosting.

It was humiliating how often his thoughts circled back to that thing, but Lex couldn't help himself. The habit was compulsive at this point—anything Superman related he had to have.

He justified himself by saying that Superman went out of his way to put himself in the public domain, and that he'd see no profit from any of it. That rationalization helped a little, but not enough.

Even still, as soon as Lex was out of Belle Reve, the first thing he did was add an obscene amount of merchandise to his cart.

He arrived back at the property that had his largest collection, and made his way to the display room. It was immaculate, not a speck of dust in sight. The house keepers, whom he made sign a separate NDA regarding the merch room, had done their jobs well. Lex let out a small breath and took in the room; it'd been too long since he'd seen it.

The habit had originally started as a purge. When the first Superman action figures were released, Lex had been outraged. So, he bought the company that manufactured them and had them all destroyed before the items could hit store shelves. He wanted to oversee the destruction himself, and ended up watching truckfuls of little Supermen be dumped into a roaring incinerator.

Only, one of them skidded across the scuffed concrete floor and bumped against his foot. He'd sneered down at it, but picked it up. It was a rudimentary action figure, with no moving joints and a shoddily painted stoic expression. Lex remembered turning it in his hands, pinching the little cheap cape between his fingers, flicking it so it imitated the way Superman's cape billowed about in real life. He'd glanced up at the thousands of other action figures being dumped into the flames, the burning plastic fumes making his head hurt, and slipped the one figure he had into his pocket.

That should've been it.

Only, Superman was growing exponentially more popular, by the day, the fucking hour. Each time Lex snuffed out one merch operation, a dozen more popped up. With each one he got rid of, he added another item to his collection. A t-shirt, croc pins, some god-forsaken fidget spinners, pencils and pencil cases.

After a while, Lex conceded defeat, realizing that the machine of capitalist consumerism was a beast even he couldn't control.

But the collection kept growing, like an insidious cancer. It moved from a few trinkets on his desk, to a shelf in his room, to a section in his walk-in closet, to his entire walk-in closet. Even then, he had to renovate the space to accommodate the sheer volume of stuff he acquired. Finally, he ended up buying a warehouse on the outskirts of the city, filled with crates of collectibles, one way in, one way out. His closet became a place where only his favorite pieces of merchandise were displayed.

Lex considered creating an algorithm to sort through online stores and immediately buy any Superman related merch, but no. He'd miss the little rush of dopamine he'd get from pressing his thumb against the 'Add to Cart' and 'Proceed to Checkout' buttons.

In the center of the display room was a large, empty glass case. It stretched from floor to ceiling, and the glass was polished every day.

Lex had it all planned out. He'd put that piece of shit alien in its place, strip the infuriatingly iconic suit from its body, and have it displayed right in the center of the room.

But then everything with the rift happened.

Now, Lex just wanted things back to normal. The obsession he had with Superman still plagued him, simmered beneath his skull, behind his eyes, but he knew it wouldn't be productive to pursue it now.

To satiate himself, the time he usually spends devising nefarious plots for Superman's downfall are now devoted to catching up on merchandise he's missed.

But it takes a surprisingly short amount of time for Lex to gather everything he'd missed. Three weeks. The Balenciaga jacket was due to arrive tomorrow, and that would be it.

…

But it couldn't be, right?

Lex felt his finger twitch over his computer mouse, his Adam's apple bobbed. That couldn't be it, right?

Lex flicked his mouse, clicking through some files and opening up a program. He hadn't abandoned the algorithm he'd created, and instead turned it into a database, something constantly scanning the web for merchandise Lex had yet to get his hands on and logging everything he did have.

Red X meant he didn't have it, green check marks meant he did.

And all he saw was green.

Lex felt something buzz at the back of his skull, he gripped his computer mouse harder, it creaked under the pressure.

He didn't even remember buying that stupid encyclopedia set.

☀︎☀︎☀︎☀︎☀︎

Clark wasn't stupid. Sure, he could be a little dense, but he wasn't devoid of intuition, or instinct.

So, he knew someone was taking his stuff. From the fortress anyway.

And, since only he and one other person had access to the fortress, it wasn't difficult to narrow down.

Since Lex's release from prison, Clark had been cautious, playing things way safer than he needed to. He avoided mentioning anything about him, outside of the occasional and obligatory drivel for the media. He tensed every time he flew past Luthorcorp tower, cringed whenever the video of him threatening the other man resurfaced, avoided any and all topics about the Rift Incident on social media.

It wasn't just that the news was less than pleasant to look at, which it was, it was seeing Lex's face. Those eyes that shone with intelligence that could change the world, the mouth that spewed unending hatred, the hands that crafted and devised tools for his own destruction.

Seeing Lex in person had been a mistake.

Clark spent months preparing for the worst after the incident, looked into methods for dosing Kryptonite to build a tolerance, trained himself to hold his breath for even longer, gave Kara a pager with intergalactic reception for emergencies, wore contacts that enhanced his X-Ray vision further, let him see past lead.

He hadn't taken precautions for his emergency fortress toothbrush going missing.

Or his slippers.

Or his cereal. Or rather the dog's cereal, Krypt-Os.

Now, Superman hovered over Lex's penthouse, pinching the bridge of his nose and deliberating how he should go about this. He could hear Lex's heart beat and breathing coming from inside, steady. He was expecting him.

"Jeez," Superman sighed, floating down toward the balcony and landing. The floor to ceiling windows left nothing obscured, and he saw Lex inside on an armchair, legs crossed and wearing some obnoxious silk robe. He was reading a book, and didn't glance up when he said "Come in,"

The balcony door slid open at the command, and Superman awkwardly stepped inside.

Arranged in a neat row on the table in front of Lex were Superman's toothbrush, slippers, and cereal.

"The box is empty now, by the way," Lex said, turning a page in his book.

"…did you clean your shoes with the toothbrush too?" Superman asked flatly. Lex finally spared him a glance, "That's a good idea, but no, I didn't."

Superman didn't move any further into the space, and resisted the urge to wring his cape between his fingers, a habit.

"I'm sure it's been torture for you," Lex said, setting his book down on an end table to his right, "All the…anticipation,"

Superman kept his expression neutral, "Yeah well, it's nothing I'm not used to,"

"Hm," Lex said, standing.

Superman felt a twinge at the sight of the robe sliding down Lex's body, shrouding his figure, but leaving his upper chest exposed. The jutting of his collar-bone under his skin made Superman's gaze linger. When he caught himself, Lex was looking right at him.

A smug expression slid across Lex's face like syrup, and Superman felt his lip curl up.

"What's your angle?" Superman asked. Lex snorted, "Like I'd answer that, you really are an idiot."

Superman sighed, and looked around the space. Everything seemed clear on the surface, but he couldn't be too careful.

He blinked, and looked about the room with his X-Ray vision, starting with Lex. He gave him a once-over, or a twice-over…thrice-over.

Then, he looked through behind him, through the wall of the kitchen into the bedroom, inside of the nightstand. Finally, Superman looked further into the room, and froze.

☀︎☀︎☀︎☀︎☀︎

Lex had been observing Superman for years, but only from afar. It was still an experience getting to see him up close, with his granduer, and his hair, and his stupid fucking cape that seemed to flutter about at the slightest movement.

All of these features were so distracting up-close, that it took Lex a moment to realize what the alien was doing. It was a split second of broken eye-contact—the alien's eyes darted around the room, then at the wall behind him, and then his eyes were widening.

Which, no, no that couldn't be possible. He knew that thing's physiology better than anyone, but even the most basic of Superman fans (not that Lex was a fan, he wasn't) knew that he couldn't see through lead. That was Kryptonian Biology 101.

But Superman's slowly morphing expression said otherwise.

"Wh-" Lex felt his layers of composure being shed one by one, "What are you looking at, hey!"

Superman didn't blink, and shifted his gaze to Lex. The alien's mouth went from slightly agape, to closed, pursed, trembling.

"Don't—" Lex strode forward and poked Superman in the chest, "Don't you fucking dare laugh, how did you—how, you can't see through lead—!" He said through gritted teeth. Superman's eyes crinkled at the edges, and he stepped back, as if the building force of his laughter would damage Lex somehow.

"I, snrk," Superman closed his eyes letting his squeezed expression ease into a smile, "I'm wearing contacts that, uh, enhance my vision,"

"Fucking—" Lex clenched his fist. He'd of course taken his opportunity in the fortress to nab some data from Superman's computers and synthesizers, but he was still sorting through most of it. Had he been faster, he wouldn't have known about this sudden upgrade.

He looked up at Superman, who was still looking at the far wall, or through it.

"It's," Superman chuckled, "It's quite a collection I have to say,"

"You shut up," Lex hissed, shoving the alien, though the action was comically ineffective.

"Holy moly is that a bong?" Superman asked, his feet lifting slightly off the ground in intrigue.

Lex grabbed his shoulders and tried to pull him back down, "Quit looking—get out!" He said. The same emotions he'd felt the day of the Rift Incident came flooding back ten-fold. Another foiled plan. This wasn't how it was supposed to go this wasn't how it was—

"Hey,"

Lex registered the voice, and then shortly after registered his own breathing, harsh and shallow and burning on the way out.

"Lex—hey I, I'm not trying to make fun of you,"

"Bullshit," Lex said, rubbing his arms and suddenly being unable to keep eye-contact.

Superman's feet were back on the floor, "Look, we don't have to talk about it just," he sighed, "I just wanna know what you were planning to do with my things, it's kinda rude to break in someone's space and steal their stuff," he said.

Lex felt his lip trembling, he hated how easy it was for this thing to make him teary eyed. He looked up at him, lip curled in contempt, but couldn't say anything.

Superman was still smiling, and moving closer.

And Lex wasn't moving back.

"Get away from me, creature," Lex said half-heartedly, hugging himself closer. Superman's glance flicked back to the kitchen wall, and his dimples were showing again. Asshole. Bully.

"Leave me alone," Lex muttered, even when Superman's fingers were brushing his face.

"Is that what you want?"

"… this isn't how it was supposed to go," Lex said wetly, hating how he found himself leaning in. Even though there was barely a height difference (save for that one infuriating inch Superman had on him) he still felt…small. Vulnerable.

"Lex," Superman was leaning in closer, nosing his cheek.

"…"

Suddenly, the horror and humiliation of the situation fell away into something small, and private. Superman's hand trailed down Lex's arm, fiddled with the hem of his sleeve, brushed against his wrist. Lex swallowed, and felt his face heat at the fact that Superman could almost definitely hear the timpani rhythm of his heart.

As if reading his mind, though, Superman gently took Lex's wrist, his hand, and brought it to his chest. He'd heard the uncanny three-rhythm beat of a Kryptonian heart before, but right now Lex felt as though his knees would buckle.

Before he could say anything, warm lips were pressing against his own. Lex felt his eyes slip shut before he knew what was happening.

☀︎☀︎☀︎☀︎☀︎

What started as gentle exploration ended as ravaging hunger, Clark couldn't control himself.

"Augh—ugh, god you alien freak slow down," Lex panted above him, voice quivering and strained. His thighs were around Bruce's head, pulling him toward his crotch. Clark had his hands under Lex's upper thighs and ass. Each time he squeezed, the cock in his mouth throbbed.

"Close," Lex said through a strained groan, his hands gripping Clark's hair for futile purchase.

"Daf'fas?" Clark said around Lex in his mouth, making the other man wail out a, "Yes—fuck,"

Clark hollowed his cheeks and bobbed his head, and the job was finished not five seconds later.

"You sound so beautiful," Clark hummed, nosing Lex's inner thigh. Lex was motionless, safe for the occasional spasm of his thighs.

"Ugh," Lex sat up after a while, and Clark rested his cheek on his inner thigh, smiling up at him.

Lex sneered back, and reached out to pinch his nose, "Stop looking at me like that it's revolting,"

"You didn't fine me revolting like ten seconds ago," Clark said, voice nasally. Lex huffed, flopping back onto his pillows.

"Well, now that I've got you out of my system, you can go. Goodbye," he waved a hand. Clark wasn't listening, of course, because stupid stubborn aliens didn't listen, and continued nuzzling Lex's thigh.

"Gosh," Clark sighed, and didn't say anything else. Lex shivered as his other thigh was caressed by the man's other hand.

"Don't tell me this is your real weakness," Lex said, closing his thighs further around Clark's head, making him moan. He rolled his hips against the bed, "Can I?"

"With that thing?" Lex said, looking genuinely apprehensive. Clark wondered how he knew about his…size, until he remembered the clone.

"I won't put it in, I just wanna," Clark sat up, taking both of Lex's legs in his arms and putting them over his shoulder. He resisted the urge to smirk at Lex's sputtering at being manhandled, and cupped his reddening cheek.

"This alright?" He asked, pushing himself between Lex's thighs.

"…ugh, yeah it's fine. Just get it over with, animal," he said.

Clark nodded, scooting back on his knees and unbuckeling his belt. He felt heat slough down the length of his spine like lava, an anticipatory sweat breaking across his brow.

He wasted no time in getting his pants and trunks off, before grasping Lex's legs and pushing his cock between his thighs.

"Ngh, Jesus Christ," Lex moaned as Clark set a slow rhythm. Clark felt much the same way, shivering and flinching each time his cock bumped against Lex's, fighting against the rapid-fire signals of his brain that told him to grip, squeeze, pull harder.

"Lex," Clark groaned, "God your thighs are perfect, so perfect for me," His words were slurred, and he ran a firm hand up and down one of Lex's legs.

"Hh, hurry the fuck up," Lex said, "Not all of us have freakshow stamina I'm still," Lex whimpered.

Clark knew the other man was still sensitive from cumming earlier, but in that moment he couldn't find it in himself to care. All he could do was chase, chase, chase his own pleasure. He groaned at the feeling of Lex's cock hardening again under the friction of his own, and soon enough they were sliding together, leaking over each other's shafts and grunting through it all.

The thread that had been unraveling at the base of Clark's spine finally fell away, and he let out a broken sound, splattering between Lex's thighs and over his cock.

"Ugh—oh my, fuck—" Lex's eyes rolled back at his own orgasm, arching beautifully off the sheets.

Clark's mouth was hanging open, wet, as he continued to push weakly between Lex's thighs. Lex came to, and looked between them, mouth curling in disgust.

"You Martian freak," He said, parting his thighs and shuddering at the sheer amount of cum covering his crotch.

"That's what the towels're for," Clark said, nodding down at the black towels he insisted they lay out on the bed. He ran a hand through his hair, composing himself, but stopped when he noticed Lex still staring.

Shit.

"Hey, no," Clark said, as firmly as he could manage, as Lex's face went from wrecked to calculating.

"Well, honestly you should've thought about that beforehand," Lex said, stretching to open his nightstand drawer and rummaging around until he found a vial. He pressed it against his thigh, letting the mess slough into the small container, and capped it off, licking up the excess.

Clark watched the whole thing in stunned silence, before incredulously yelling, "Gimme that!"

"No way," Lex said, clutching the vial in his fist. Clark reached for him, but stopped and sighed, "Ugh, fine,"

"…fine?"

"Yeah," he said, composing himself, "Every collection needs a crown jewel after all,"

"Oh fuck off," Lex said, shoving Clark away with his foot, "Leave, now,"

"Leave?" Clark blinked at Lex, "I dunno that I want to,"

"H-hey!" Lex squirmed as Superman bunched up some of the towels, and used the remainder to clean up Lex as best he could, "You're disgusting, get off!" he yelled as Clark settled behind him and pulled his back to his chest.

Lex stilled after a moment, and huffed. He unclenched his fist and held the vial between his fingers. In the low light, the substance had a pearlescent quality to it, colors refracting and swirling inside.

"You're such a freak," Lex sighed, clutching the vial to his chest.