Deserted Island

by jessica

Disclaimer: If Millar & Gough can fool around with Superman than so can Lex Luthor.

Notes: The first draft was just a Lex/Superman fantasy I wrote jenn for her birthday. Then Livia turned it into something so much more. She is the Superman fangirl to my own who loves Clark Kent.

Feedback: is answered faster than a speeding bullet.

Summary: If Superman is just Clark Kent in spandex, why doesn't Lex get to have him?

Clark is building them a hut on the beach. He takes off his sweat-soaked shirt as the sun climbs higher, and Lex sits back and watches.

They have this piece of the island all to themselves. Clark is teaching Lex how to fish. They eat the blue ones, but throw the spiky ones away.

Lex lies on the sand, waiting for Clark, still wet from their swim. Clark shakes the water out of his hair, and leans down for a salty kiss. Lex pulls him close--

--and then it's gone with an elbow in his side, a pen in his hand, and a voice telling him to sign.

His assistant gives him a look as they walk back to the office. He takes his seat at the desk outside Lex's door, but doesn't say anything. That's what Lex pays him for.

Lex drifts off during board meetings. It's happening more often these days. Clark thinks it has something to do with the nights Superman comes home late. But the daydreams happen on the good days too.

Inside his office, Lex flips on the television and grabs a bottle of water from the fridge. Channel 54 has live footage of Superman and a robbery at First National. The city comes to a stop when Superman's in action, and the people gather around the nearest set.

Superman looks so much taller on TV.

Lex has known Clark since he was fifteen, Martha and Jonathan twelve years before that and even they cant see Clark in Superman. He wears his costume close to his skin in a way Clark has never been comfortable with. Superman has the confidence; he doesn't wear a mask, choosing instead to leave his face bare. Its Clark Kent that hides behind thick glasses, underneath rumpled suits.

On TV, an impromptu press conference is being set up on the sidewalk in front of the First National Bank. The chief of police throws an arm around Superman and leads him in front of the cameras. The chief clears his throat and says his piece. Lex admires Superman's restraint as he holds his friendly smile. They've both heard this speech; it's the same one every time.

But then the man adds more to his praise for Superman: "This hero of the city belongs to us all. Superman is truly Metropolis' greatest son." Lex sets his water down on the table with a thud.

Superman stays quiet. He usually does. He nods in the right places, shakes the chief's hand, smiles for the cameras. Lex changes over to CNN for the stock quotes, but finds himself back in front of the bank, watching Superman and his crowd of admirers. Superman takes a moment for every single one of them

He never should have agreed to this Superman thing. Clark asked what Lex thought, but the look in his eyes said that he had already decided. That was when the daydreams started. Dreams of deserted islands, coconut pina coladas, and beach sex. They never seem to make it to the sex, though. Clark finds a cat up a palm tree and Lex spends the night awake in the hut.

The reporter steps in front of the camera for her wrap-up. Behind her, with one last glance to the crowd, Superman flies away, arms stretched high. Clark is more comfortable nearer the ground, tracking down a case. Lois went on for weeks about the time he used the words 'pounding the pavement', teasing him through her laughter, telling him they weren't living in a comic book.

As the camera follows Superman upwards until he's a red and blue blur in the distance, Lex has to admit hes got a little thing for Superman. Its the best kind of kink, out there in the sky and on TV for everyone to see. He lets his eye stray and never feels guilty. Another one of those daydreams that has had him drifting off during board meetings: the one about Superman, where Lex gets to prove Metropolis doesn't know its hero at all.

He drives fast, but not fast enough, because the shower is running when Lex gets home and the Superman suit has already been stripped away. Lex has looked, in the closet and under the bed, and he still doesn't know where Clark keeps Superman hidden. It's time he asked.

If he can't run away with Clark to a deserted island, Lex is going to have Superman instead.


Clark sticks his head out of the shower when he hears Lex's voice. "Hey, yourself."

He hooks a finger at Lex, who steps closer, unbuttoning his shirt. Clark leans out and kisses him, wetly, in more ways than one. He pulls away with a grin, closing the door and they continue talking through the glass.

"What brings you home?"

There's a pause as Lex thinks of just the right word. "A whim."

Lex puts the lid down and sits on the toilet, watching Clark. The glass is frosted, making details hard to see, so Lex closes his eyes and fills in the blanks. Clark is stretched back, fingers scrubbing his scalp, water running through the valleys of his muscles. Lex imagines him hard, cock swollen and rising to meet the jets of water pounding down. Then Lex's mind adds a cape, red and billowing, despite the water and lack of wind. It surrounds Clark, covering his body, but Lex stays hard, and reaches down to adjust himself. The shower is turned off, and Clark is stepping out when Lex opens his eyes.

"A whim, huh?" Clark says, stepping forward, wet and hard - just like he imagined - and reaching out for Lex's head. Lex runs his hands up Clark's thighs to his ass and pulls him closer. Clark draws wet lines over Lex's scalp, groans when Lex leans forward and sucks the water off his cock. He lets it continue almost a moment too long, then steps away, pulling Lex up from his seat and starting on his belt and zipper.

"Clark," Lex says when his pants are on the floor. Clark kisses him against the counter, taking his time despite the naked skin he has to rub against. "Clark," Lex says again. This time Clark looks up, focused on Lex. "Put the suit back on."

Clark's eyes narrow as he studies Lex's expression. "What? That one?" he asks, gesturing back to the black pile of fabric stuffed in the hamper.

Lex shakes his head. "The other one."

The smile starts in Clark's eyes, quickly spreading to his lips and down to the fingers on Lex's skin. "Superman doesn't get any action, does he?"

"That's because you never let him out to play."

Clark's hair is drying into messy curls. Lex reaches up and smoothes Clark's unruly hair into Superman's slicked do, then runs his fingers down over the face in front of him. With Clark's eyes closed, the only sign of confusion is a wrinkle in his forehead. Everywhere else, his skin is perfect. Lex traces his eyebrows, and down the cheekbones to lips that he sets into Superman's heroic - blank - expression. When he lets Clark open his eyes again, it's Superman that looks out at him. Lex leans forward to kiss him, like the first time, feeling the strength that Clark's let himself grow into.

"Put the suit on," Lex whispers into the kiss.

"Yeah." Clark pulls away with a bite. "Get in bed. I'll be right there."

Lex steps out and into the bedroom, bracing himself for a burst of speed and his fantasy already waiting for him in bed. It doesn't happen, but Lex is sure he can wait.

He crawls into the bed and under sheets warmed from sleep and sex. Pressing his face into the pillow, Lex finds a scent there of the two of them together. Rubbing his cock on the bed, stiff against the dirty sheets, Lex is lost amongst his senses when a commanding voice stops him. Just his name - "Lex" - but like he's never heard it before.

Lex rolls over to his back, cotton scraping his cock deliciously. Stretching, arching up to rub against the sheet, Lex teases with a wicked smile. "Think you can stop me, Superman?"

Superman strikes a pose at the end of the bed, a picture of menacing sex in red and blue. Eyes that every star-struck reporter has described as piercing. It's a line that makes Clark blush and Lex jealous, but here, they do pierce and it makes them both hard.

Superman lies next to Lex on the bed, and covers them both with his cape. "Are you going to call me that?"

"Calling you 'Clark' kind of ruins the fantasy."

Clark looks away, then rolls Lex over onto his back and straddles his hips. Rising up over Lex, with broad shoulders and a wide expanse of chest, it's Superman that looks back down at him. Lex reaches his hands out, sliding over spandex and tracing the S. Lex always wanted it to be an L, the letter that protects Clark like armour.

"I want to call you Superman," Lex pants. "Can I call you Superman?"

"Just keep touching me like that," he says, and rocks himself down on Lex's cock, letting Lex's hands guide him. But Lex doesn't want it this way. He shouldn't be doing all the work. This is what Superman is for. Lex reaches up, ripping the cape off and twisting his head to watch it float to the ground next to the bed. A slow, languid moment, and the last of the night. Lex wants it hard and fast, and reaches up again. His fingers slip on the shine of Superman's costume. Lex grips harder, digging at the fabric, but he's not ready to let it go for the skin that waits underneath. He's hoping the kink has nothing to do with spandex and everything to do with the power that complements it so well.

There's a quick thought spared for Clark, but Superman looks to be enjoying himself, and Lex's guilt washes away with the large hands moving him up the bed. Clark isn't always able let himself go the way Superman can. Lex savours the moment of power with Superman's hands on his hips.

Superman pulls the sheet away, baring Lex's skin. He leans down to lick hard lines over Lex's smooth stomach, ignoring the twitching cock to leave a nice purple mark on his inner thigh. Lex twists on the bed and tries to get a grip on Superman's arms. His hands slide on the fabric and finally, he lets himself pull it away. There's a breath, then Superman sits up again and pushes the costume off his shoulders, leaving it bunched at his hips and his chest bare. Lex pulls him down for a vicious kiss.

Superman's warm hands hold him still and their tongues battle back and forth. Their chests slide together with a thin sheen of sweat. They're both hard, rubbing their cocks with only that thin spandex between them. It's difficult to get the friction.

"Harder," Lex demands, wrapping his legs around the strong torso. Superman holds him close, captures his mouth again, and when Lex comes it's with flashes of blue and red behind his eyes. Superman's discovered a new power: incapacitating victims with lust.

Lex opens his eyes. The blue and red are gone, and only golden skin remains. He combs his fingers through the black hair tickling his chest. It doesn't take long to recover, and soon Lex is pulling Superman back up, missing the tongue that was licking at his nipples and taking it into his mouth instead.

"Fuck me," he groans. "Are you going to fuck me, Superman?"

Lex gets a great smile and the laugh that goes with it. The room is very quiet and all Lex hears is that laugh. Clark does things with his voice when he's Superman, makes it deeper, more confident, something to tell them apart. But Superman doesn't laugh.

The fantasy broken, Lex pushes his way off the bed and Clark falls to the side like he doesn't have the strength to stop him. Naked, and still hard, Lex paces the floor, three steps in each direction. Spread out on his bed is the same body that got Superman the title of Sexiest Bachelor in People magazine, but the hair is wild, like Clark just woke up. It's Clark watching him; Lex is sure of it. His face falls and Clark looks away when Lex doesn't speak. Superman may be strong, but only Clark has the strength to break Lex's heart.

"Sorry," Clark whispers from the bed.

Lex shakes his head. "Don't be."

He crawls back under the sheets. Clark isn't looking at him, so he tucks in closer. Lex presses his fingers against Clark's mouth, willing away the blank expression for Clark's perpetual smile.

"I suck," Clark groans. He buries his face into Lex's shoulder, sighing when Lex brings his hand up to stroke Clark's hair.

"You don't suck, Clark."

"I'm Superman every day. Why couldn't I do it this time?" The words are muffled against his skin, but Lex hears them clearer than anything else. He tugs at Clark's hair, pulling him up, and gives him a grin.

"Superman isn't in love with Lex Luthor."

Clark falls back onto the pillow with a laugh. "I think he has a little crush," he whispers when Lex joins him. Lex closes the space between them and puts a kiss on Clark's lips.

Naked, there's nothing to mark Clark as Superman. Lex traces his fingers over Clark's chest, mapping out the spot where the S should be. "Superman is Superman when things go wrong. Without a bank robbery or earthquake, you're just Clark Kent in ridiculous spandex." Lex's fingers change direction and start drawing a C instead. "I got used to the spandex because I get to have Clark Kent."

Clark covers Lex's hand on his chest and traces his own letter, an L and then another. Lex grins and arches an eyebrow to drive Clark forward. He pounces, pushing Lex back on the bed, and bending down for another kiss. It starts out the same as any other, then Clark gets impatient. He moves off Lex, and turns him over with an insistent hand on his hip.

Lex buries his nose back into the pillows. He's only distracted a moment, before Clark brings him back with the tip of his tongue. Clark traces wetly over Lex's spine, down between his cheeks, stopping at the tiny opening. He presses his tongue flat against Lex's hole, sending a buzz back up his spine with a detour to his cock, hardening with every new swipe of Clark's tongue. There's no real warning before Lex has the wet tongue in his ass, and pushing deeper as Lex thrusts himself back.

He's rubbing against the sheets again, but this time Clark's hands are there to guide him, to make sure he gets what he wants. He's pulled up, away from the soft fabric, and onto his hands and knees. No break in rhythm and suddenly Clark is slick and hard and inside Lex. Clark pounds hard, the way Superman might fuck if he was allowed. Lex has already come once tonight and this time comes even faster. It's Clark's hand on his cock that gets him off this time, and Clark's breath on his skin as he shudders through his own orgasm that makes Lex think that he could get hard again tonight.

They're still sticky when they collapse to the bed and find a comfortable position to sleep. Lex already slept, but Clark had a big day. He's out almost immediately, quietly snoring. Lex leaves him asleep in the bed, cleans up in the bathroom, and pulls on his pyjamas. He steps back into the bedroom and picks up the forgotten clothes on the way out. The red and blue of the Superman costume isn't that different from the t-shirts and flannels that Clark used to leave for him under his pillow. Lex still doesn't know where the costume belongs, so he just folds it and leaves it on a chair.

Reaching the kitchen, Lex opens the fridge for a bottle of water, and mentally checks inventory as he drinks. There's half a jug of milk, and some chicken from last night that Lex puts on the counter. Clark will be hungry when he wakes up. Lex closes the fridge door, then stops, letting his eyes trail over the words and pictures held up with tiny car magnets that Clark gave Lex for his birthday. There's the two of them in tuxedos at a LexCorp dinner: Clark with a goofy smile and Lex with a grip on his hand. There's a headline banner that Clark cut from the Inquisitor: LexCorp CEO Joins Sex Cult.

There's a note in Clark's handwriting and Lex doesn't remember when it's from. "Superman had to go do something in Mexico," it says. "Maybe Italian for dinner instead?"

It's nothing like being on a deserted island. But Lex daydreams about this life too.

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