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Before they were fired, or rather, sent to the pocket, one of Lex’s underling employees had made a snide comment about Lex being pent-up, about his hatred of the Kryptonian being thinly veiled sexual frustration. They thought he hadn’t heard, of course, but he most certainly had, and at the snap of a finger, they were gone. He liked that. He liked that it took the barest expression of effort to get his subordinates to do whatever he demanded.
Their comment, though, did not vanish quite as easily as they did. It stuck with him well into the night, running in circles in the back of his mind as he went through the motions of his extensive nightly routine – precisely timed shower, multi-step skincare routine, the same pajamas he wore every night, the same sex he had with Eve every Saturday night. It was especially present then, as she bounced on him clumsily, squawked uselessly as she threw her head back. He kept his hands on her waist, same as he always did, ran his thumbs back and forth over her soft skin.
She was beautiful, he supposed, but in the way a well-designed building or a sports car was beautiful. Only superficially. Not something you could love. Sex with her was frightfully boring.
She leaned down to kiss him, her tempo increasing. “Lex,” she breathed as she slotted her lips against his, snapping him out of the echo chamber of his brain. He kissed her back, letting her cradle his face in her hands, her manicured nails scratching at the sides of his head. Now that he was actually present he realized he wasn’t that far off from his climax – he still figured he’d let her do all the work.
His grip on her waist tightened as he felt the heat coiling in his stomach, and he came near silently, a barely noticeable groan leaving his lips, out of his control.
“Can I still…?” Eve asked, trailing off and stilling her hips.
Lex just nodded, moving his hands from her waist to her thighs, thumbs resting close to the seam between her leg and pelvis. He pushed slightly, urging her to move again.
“Oh, thank you, Lex,” she murmured into the crook of his neck, planting kisses there as she rambled. “Thank you so much, Lex. I’m so close.”
He tuned her out. He had more important things to think about. Namely, how he was very much not sexually frustrated. Here he was, having sex and not being frustrated.
If he were being honest with himself, he would know he was indeed frustrated. The fact that he viewed sex with Eve as part of a routine and that he had to space out thinking about Superman should have been evidence enough, but it would be completely asinine to say that Lex Luthor didn’t experience a bit of denial.
When Eve started to make increasingly higher-pitched noises, he tuned back in, trailed one hand up to cup her right breast like he had learned over the past few months she enjoyed right when she was about to come. He brushed her nipple with his thumb and she moaned, grabbed at his shoulders. She chanted his name a few too many times, he felt her clench around him, and she was still. She leaned down to kiss him again, and he let her, but when she lifted herself off him and tried to initiate cuddling, he sat up, not even noticing when her face fell.
“Not tonight, Eve,” he said, swinging his legs out of the bed and pulling his clothes back on. “I have other things I need to do.”
“Oh. Okay, Lex,” she murmured, propping herself up on one hand. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” He was already leaving the room.
Eve watched the door shut behind him and frowned, moving to gather up her clothes. She didn’t know why she stayed.
-
Lex peered out the window to the ground, watching Eve get into an Uber. When the car drove off, he stepped away from the window, steepling his fingers and trying to come up with a game plan.
He stepped into the bathroom, saw his own face in the mirror, scowled at it. He leaned over the sink and splashed his face with cold water, the excess dripping onto his collar. He leaned in close to the mirror, watched the droplets slide over the bones and muscles under his skin. A muscle near the corner of his mouth twitched, and he watched it, waiting for it to move again. Willing it not to move.
He stared for a while. Scrutinized his own face, scanned for imperfection and weaknesses. Each time he noticed the briefest movement of any of the muscles in his face, anything he didn’t specifically command to move, he stared at it until he deemed it still enough. He stared into his eyes, watched the way the light caught on different sections of the iris when he slid them around in their sockets. He started to see features he was sure weren’t there. He’d stare too long at the wrinkle in his brow, then see an unnaturally gaunt cheekbone in his peripheral. When he’d shift his focus there, he’d see deep, dark bags under his eyes. He couldn’t keep his entire face under control.
Eventually, he broke, blinked. His upper back ached with how long he’d been hunched over the sink, inches from the mirror. He stood up straight, stretched, ran his clammy hands over his face. From this far away from the mirror, he could see his entire head, see that everything was as it should be.
“Ridiculous…” he muttered as he stepped out of the bathroom, shaking his arms loose at his sides.
He glanced over at the ornate wall clock as he walked towards his bed, saw it was nearly two in the morning. Rationalizing, he knew it would do him no good to stay up ruminating on what his employee had said. He had an early meeting tomorrow, as well as various media appearances in the afternoon, so he resigned to just go to sleep.
-
His sleep was restless. At some point in the night, he’d wrestled out of his sleep shirt, sweat-soaked and wrinkled. At another point, he’d kicked the comforter to the foot of the bed, tangled in the top sheet and swimming in the fitted sheet, which had popped loose of the mattress. He woke up to his 4:00 alarm, breathless and soaked through with sick sweat. His skin was tacky to the touch and he blinked rapidly, trying to ground himself.
He got out of bed just as quickly as he had awoken, eager to move on with his life. He staggered shirtless to the bathroom, went through the motions of his morning routine. Unusually, though, he took care to neglect the mirror, avoiding looking into it as much as he could.
Freshly showered, cleanly shaved, and dressed in one of his favorite waistcoats, he stepped out of his bedroom and down the hall towards the elevator, knowing a car was already waiting for him at the ground level.
Before he could get all the way to the elevator, though, he stopped short, noticing an anomaly on the kitchen island. A note, whereas he typically kept every surface spotless, completely free of clutter. He came close, swiped the slip of paper off the marble.
‘good luck today, lex :),’ it read, in Eve’s loopy handwriting. He stared at it for a long moment, then slipped it into the breast pocket of his vest and continued towards the door.
-
“Morning, Lex,” the driver spoke as he settled into the back right seat. “Any extra stops today?”
“No. Straight to the office. Thank you.”
When the car pulled to a stop in front of LuthorCorp, he was irritated to see a few straggler reporters outside the front door, huddled together and all facing towards the building, none of them having noticed his arrival.
When he slammed the car door shut, the group collectively jumped and turned to face him, their faces brightening. He didn’t recognize any of them. There was a short, plump woman, and two men whose faces he would forget the instant he walked in the door.
“Mr. Luthor!” one of them, the woman, shouted. “Could you tell us anything about–“
“No interviews today,” he muttered as he shoved past them and through the glass door of LuthorCorp.
He had, stupidly, he now realized, hoped that getting to the office as early as he had would keep the reporters away – he hated unscheduled interviews. Soon they’d be camping out outside the building he lived in when he didn’t sleep at the office.
A receptionist chirped a cheery ‘good morning’ to Lex as he breezed through the first floor, bee-lining to the elevator. He glanced down at his watch, saw his meeting was in 30 minutes, and felt a smidgen of relief. He hated being right on time, had to be at least 15 minutes early to every occasion. He knew anyone that had anything to do with him would simply wait for him to arrive – nothing would ever start without him, but it still irked his very soul to walk into a meeting or interview or anything at all on time. He distantly recalled a college instructor saying, and he was paraphrasing, he was sure, “if you’re early, you’re on time, if you’re on time, you’re late, and if you’re late, you’re dead in an alleyway.”
He was alone in the elevator, thank God, and took the ride up as time to ponder his dreams last night. He’d pushed them to the side when he woke up, focusing on shaking himself out of it and getting ready for the day. He couldn’t remember much, to be frank.
He’d seen himself again, in the mirror, but in a bathroom he didn’t know in some apartment. It was dark. Everything sounded and felt like television static. Then it was gone, and he was in his own bed again, with Eve, plowing her into the mattress. She squeaked and moaned beneath him, pushing her hips back to meet his own. Sweat dripped off his face and into the small of her back, and he watched the droplet run over the smooth expanse, focused on it, until it had run its course, soaking into her skin.
When he came, Eve went deadly still, silent. He wanted to ask her what she was doing, but couldn’t make his mouth form the words. Then she was gone, and he was alone, stupidly, on his knees with his cock hanging low and heavy between his legs. He looked around, looking for whoever was responsible. There was nobody there but himself.
Then it was all gone, and everything became a blur of colors and noise, and he woke up, sweaty and disoriented. Then he was at work, in an elevator, sweating again. He shook his head, clenched his eyes shut, and the elevator dinged. Back to business.
Waiting for him in the meeting room was a singular frazzled man, checking his watch obsessively.
“Mr. Luthor!” he said, eyes wide. “So am I not late? I got here, and nobody else was here… I thought I’d missed it.”
“No, you’re not late. You’re early, actually,” Lex said, taking his seat at the head of the table. “I can respect that.”
The man nodded vehemently at that, smiling a wonky smile. He shuffled through the papers in front of him loudly, and Lex bit back a snide comment. He didn’t want to crush this man’s spirit immediately.
As Lex sat, he realized he hadn’t had a single drop of anything to drink this morning, and stood up, waving the man off when he glanced up. “I’ll be right back. You’re fine.”
He approached one of the coffee bars strewn around the building and started to fix himself a cup. He glanced off to the side and saw Ultraman sitting uselessly on an ottoman, and glared at him.
“What are you doing?” he bit. “Come on, I have a meeting in,” he glanced at his watch. “Ten minutes.”
Ultraman stood up smoothly and walked over to stand beside Lex, just a titch too close. Lex planted a hand on his chest, fingers splayed wide, and shoved him back slightly, scoffing.
“Don’t get so close to me, you brute.”
Ultraman stumbled back but righted himself immediately, watching Lex’s every move, peering at him as he poured creamer into his mug, watching his arm as he reached for a stir stick, following the mug as Lex lifted it to his mouth to take a sip.
Lex rolled his eyes at the creature and started to walk back to the meeting room, knowing he would follow. When they stepped into the room, more of the men who would be participating had showed up. Ultraman took his place at the side of the room, standing poised and ready to do whatever Lex told him.
When Lex sat at the head of the table once more, he glanced down at his watch. Five minutes until starting time.
“Good morning, gentlemen,” he spoke suddenly, forcing every head at the table to abruptly turn to face him. “We won’t begin just yet, we have a few more who should be arriving soon, but I figure it can’t hurt to start addressing the agenda for today.”
As Lex went through a bulleted list of goals, each man at the table’s attention focused solely on him, he found his attention very scarcely focused on the task at hand. As he droned through various economic goals and ideas, his brain was still on his dreams, on his wretched employee’s words.
Really, who did they think they were saying something like that to their boss? Not just their boss, but the one man who could effectively ruin their entire life with nothing more than a glance. The fact that he snapped was just an additional dramatic flourish.
The exact words, Lex recalled were, “I know this behavior. He’s pent-up. He needs to be fucked,” and they laughed, spiteful. “I think he wants the alien to bend him over. Textbook sexual frustration.”
They’d said it under their breath to the worker at the terminal next to them, and she’d chuckled awkwardly, until she looked up and saw Lex staring daggers. She shut up quickly, going back to her work, and before they could even question it, Ultraman was dragging them to the portal.
When the final few stragglers came into the meeting room, Lex snapped back to it, realized he’d just been saying words for several minutes without knowing what any of them were. He cleared his throat and nodded at Ultraman, who turned out the lights and clicked on a projector.
“Again, good morning, everyone,” Lex said, clipped. “I’ll be making this quick. We’ll have a brief discussion period at the end.”
With that, he clicked through several slides, all detailing various investment plans in motion at LuthorCorp. The men sitting around the table nodded and scrawled notes on pads in front of them at regular intervals, some of them more enthusiastically then others.
Nearing the end of the slideshow, Lex glanced over at Ultraman, standing stock still in place, just as he was trained to do. Something in Lex knew it was wholly unnecessary to have Ultraman do menial tasks around the office, things any intern could do, but it gave him pleasure to know that, in a way, it was like he was making the alien do things for him. He liked the idea of having that control over Superman, so why not enact it in the only way he could at present?
When the screen went black, the final slide gone, Ultraman stood up and hit the lights again, and Lex clapped once. “Alright, gentleman. Questions?”
The discussion went quickly, just as Lex as hoped. He stood at the head of the table and shuffled papers around as the men filed out, hoping to look busy and avoid any further conversation. He lucked out, and soon it was just him and Ultraman in the room, dead silent.
He glanced down at his watch, saw 6:45. He didn’t have anything scheduled until two in the afternoon, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He thought briefly, wondered if there was anything urgent to be handled at the office. Things with the Kryptonian were in a bit of a lull at the moment, and he couldn’t think of anything he absolutely needed to work on at the office. He could just head back to his apartment, work on some menial paperwork there and not be bothered by any more smart mouth subordinates.
As he started to head out of the room, leaving Ultraman in the dark, he stopped short, turned to look at the clone. “You. Come with me.”
He followed, obviously, trailing just behind Lex, matching his walking speed. If Lex had turned to look, he would have seen that Ultraman was also imitating his posture and his gait, not only the pace.
“You’ll be accompanying me home today,” Lex spoke, to no-one in particular, he supposed. Things that weren’t outright commands flew right over the beast’s head. “Maybe I’ll have you tidy the place… not that you possess that sort of delicate finesse.”
Lex spoke to a receptionist before they headed to the elevator, requested that she call a car for him. She smiled, a big, wet thing, told him sure thing, and they left the desk.
The elevator ride to the ground floor was silent. Lex always seemed to be lucky enough to be alone on the elevator – though he supposed he wasn’t technically alone now. Ultraman didn’t really count as a person though, so he still considered it a win.
Before they could make it outside, they ran into Sydney, coming into the building in a hurry carrying a tray of coffees. He smiled, friendly, when he saw Lex, but his smile faltered slightly when he saw Ultraman behind him.
“Morning, Lex,” he said, chipper.
“Good morning, Sydney,” Lex replied, terse and obviously eager to move on.
“What are you up to with him?” Sydney asked, jockeying the drinks tray around to point at Ultraman.
“Command maintenance,” Lex replied, bullshitting a reason. “He didn’t turn on a light when I asked. Need to do some reprogramming.”
“I see, I see,” Sydney nodded. “Well, have a good day, Lex.”
Having avoided letting it slip the real reason he was bringing Ultraman home, which was just to watch him do things that he told him to, Lex slipped outside and into the waiting car. This time, he sat in front with the driver and had Ultraman sit alone in the back.
“Home?” the driver asked, gruff.
Lex just nodded, and the whole drive there, kept glancing back at Ultraman. He never moved, not even when the car jostled or braked a little too hard. He just sat there, in the center seat, seat belt pressing him tight against the backrest, still and silent.
-
Ultraman followed obediently all the way into Lex’s apartment, just close enough behind to not irritate Lex. His presence certainly demanded a few questioning looks from those milling about in the lobby, but Lex couldn’t care less.
It was so silent in the apartment, so still, even Lex felt his skin start to crawl. Very suddenly he felt distinctly and acutely awkward. Ultraman had never been here. All of his training and work was done at LuthorCorp or various bases and warehouses also owned by LuthorCorp.
“I suppose I can just talk at you,” he spoke then, desperate to fill the silence. “You won’t understand a word, will you? No, you won’t.”
He pointed at an armchair in the living room, snapped. “Sit.”
Ultraman obeyed instantly, sat in the chair and looked at Lex for his next command.
“Do you remember yesterday? When I had you drag that snot-nosed son of a bitch to the prison? Do you know what they said about me? What they accused me of?” Lex was ranting now, not looking at Ultraman at all as he spoke, pacing back and forth and flailing his hands.
“Absolute bullshit. Textbook sexual frustration,” he barked a laugh. “What a ridiculous claim. I can fuck Eve whenever I want, and if for some God forsaken reason I can’t have her, I can have any blonde bimbo bitch I can get my hands on,” he paused. “And I can get my hands on any blonde bimbo bitch.”
Ultraman still just watched. His head followed Lex as he paced around the room, tracking his every move and listening intently for anything he knew was a command.
Lex couldn’t be bothered by the silence anymore, filling it with his own incessant rambling. “I don’t usually deal with insubordination like this. Not from you, of course, but not from any of my employees. Why they would say something so absurd is beyond me. I mean, to say I want to be bent over. By that piece of shit, no less.”
A vein was starting to bulge out of his forehead, his temperature rising, and he ran his fingers over his temple, a headache starting to form. When he turned around to face Ultraman, he found that he was not only standing, but coming toward him with vigor.
“What do you think you’re doing, you idiot–“
Before Lex could finish his question, Ultraman had grabbed him by the shoulder, spun him around to face away from him, and planted a hand in the center of his back, pushing him over. He then stood motionless behind a shellshocked Lex, bent in half with his arms dangling uselessly to the floor.
Lex was speechless, for once. He could feel Ultraman looming behind him, could look between his own legs and see his still, strong form behind him. He had been bullshitting when he’d told Syd that Ultraman needed maintenance but this was… wait. I want to be bent over. Shit.
He was following commands just as he was meant to do – Lex had just conveniently misspoke. Well. This was unbecoming. The blood rushing to his head made him feel light-headed, dizzy, and as he stood back up, straightened out, he stumbled back into Ultraman, back thumping against his chest.
Ultraman brought his arms up to catch him, Mr. Luthor Protection instincts kicking in, and Lex shoved him off of him, pushing away and turning to face Ultraman, expression dark.
“Do not ever do that again. Do you hear me? You are not to touch me like that. Ever.”
Ultraman showed no sign of having heard Lex, just standing as still as he ever did.
“That’s it, come here, you horrible thing,” Lex bit, gesturing ‘come hither’ with his left hand. When Ultraman took the few steps needed to be face to face with him, Lex reached around and undid the latches that kept Ultraman’s mask on, revealing his ugly face and unkempt hair.
“God, you really do disgust me. But I needed to see your face to get my point across, do you understand me? I’ll just have to swallow the bile.”
With his face bare, Lex could see the microscopic shifts in expression on Ultraman’s face. During the earliest days of his training, they’d kept his face visible, studying every inch of him as he reacted to new information. He was mostly a blank slate. His face was very slightly responsive to conversation and commands, and very responsive to physical sensation. When he was in pain or pleasure he emoted much like a toddler, as Lex had noted in one of the preliminary sessions. His facial expressions were very exaggerated, like someone learning where all of the different parts were and how to use them, which Lex and his scientists supposed described him rather well.
He’d gone through quite a few intensely painful experiments to see how much he would emote. A lot, they’d realized. He also got to experience pleasure, though – they’d found he enjoyed having his hair combed and back scratched. He had a wide range of expression, but only in response to physical stimulation.
Lex could still detect the small movements when he received verbal information, the way his pupils dilated and contracted, the slight twitches of his lips and nostrils. Many of his scientists didn’t have the same eye for detail as him, so there were lots of sessions with Ultraman that were one-on-one, hours of feeding him constant new information. Telling him who he was supposed to be and everything he was meant to do, watching carefully to see that the information wasn’t simply going in one ear and out the other.
He’d spent so long staring at that face, on both bodies it belonged to, it had become ingrained in his mind. He still hated it. It belonged to his proudest living creation, his magnum opus, but even he knew that it was stolen. He knew, even as he praised Ultraman for good work by holding and squeezing his hand, watching a smile crack on his unknowing face, that face belonged to Superman first.
That same face was staring blankly at him now. He hadn’t said anything for a good while, so Ultraman had settled back into vacant obedience.
“I taught you everything you know. I am the only person you listen to. Everything anyone else ever tells you to do, that comes from me. I am your creator, your God, and I can get rid of you just like that,” he snapped, right between Ultraman’s eyes. He blinked.
“Sometimes you listen to me too well. I don’t suppose that’s something I should really be complaining about. ‘Oh no! My mindlessly obedient servant is too obedient!’” Lex chuckled, dark. “I digress. I have to be able to say things that sound like your commands without you doing them. I’ll never be able to carry out a normal conversation with you in the room otherwise. I’ll have to do some rewiring.”
They’d never had much success with corporal punishment while they were training him. It was hard for any of the scientists to do much to him that actually hurt him, and when they were able to cause him pain, it never quite connected with him that it was because he had made a mistake.
Still though, Lex liked utilizing it with him. He liked to see him squirm, if only because he couldn’t see Superman squirm.
“See, I’m just going to talk for a while. Just going to fill the silence. As long as I’m saying any words at all, they’ll fill that empty cavity where your brain should be, I’m sure. They don’t have to have any meaning, just endless buzz and blabber to satiate your need to hear me speak,” Lex was grinning now. “But, oh, let’s see. Maybe I say something out of context, like, I want my arm to be grabbed.”
He watched as Ultraman’s expression shifted a fraction, his eyebrows knitting ever so slightly. He raised his arm and grabbed at Lex’s left bicep. Immediately, Lex swung his right arm up and grabbed a chunk of Ultraman’s unruly hair, yanking him away and tossing him to the side. He delighted in the way his face reflexively scrunched up in pain, his eyes squinted shut and nose wrinkled.
“No, no, no!” Lex shouted, staring him down, watching his face relax back into complacency. “You have to learn context, you dunce! Let’s try again.” A mean smile curved on Lex’s face, and he started to spout nonsense again, until he landed on another disguised command, this time to kneel.
When Ultraman dropped to his knees at Lex’s feet, he wasted no time kicking him in the stomach, drinking up the punched out wheeze and grabbing at his face in an attempt to keep the pained expression there for long enough to really study it.
“This is fun,” Lex said. “But I still don’t think you’re quite getting it. We’ll have to keep going until you do.”
Lex’s cruel game went on for several more rounds, Ultraman getting punched, slapped, kicked, having his hair pulled again, anything Lex could think of to hurt him. By the last round, he was fetal on the floor, face screwed up in pain. Similar to how he came into the world, Lex thought, cruelly.
“Let’s do a final test, what do you say?” he asked, not expecting an answer. “Stand up.”
Ultraman did, exhaling a shaky breath. He faced Lex, listening as intently as ever.
“What to have you do this time…” Lex thought aloud, holding his chin. “Needs to be something that’ll let me really hurt you.” He thought for a second more, then had an idea. “Why don’t we go back to what started this little charade? You deciding I needed to be bent over, hm?”
He carried on again, just saying random words to create the pleasant buzz in Ultraman’s head, until he spoke the golden words, the hidden command.
“According to that cretin, I need to be fucked.”
Ultraman zeroed in on the perceived command, ran through what he understood it to mean based on what he had been told in the past, and moved to turn Lex around and grab at his hips, rutting against him and grunting.
Lex had planned to kick Ultraman in the dick before he could lay his hands on him, but hadn’t acted fast enough. At the pressure and friction against his ass, his eyes shot wide and he sucked in a sharp breath. He grabbed wordlessly at Ultraman’s hands, trying to pry them off of his hips.
“Enough, enough!” he spat, frantic. Ultraman stopped without question.
Lex turned around, breathing shallow, on the verge of panic. He didn’t even know if he could be mad at him for this one. He’d set him up intentionally, didn’t stop him like he had every other time.
Ultraman’s blind obedience was the least of his concerns now, though. He was more worried about the noise he had made at the contact, the heat rolling in his stomach now that it was gone. He tried to will the feeling away, trying to focus, to think of anything else, but when he opened his eyes, there that stupid face was, peering at him as usual.
“God damn it all to hell,” he muttered, running his hands over his face. “You stupid, stupid mutt. It’s all your fault, you know that? Your incessant obedience, your dumb puppy-dog face twisting up every time anyone kicks you or scratches behind your ears.”
He jabbed Ultraman in the chest with his index finger. “I wouldn’t be sexually frustrated, apparently, if it weren’t for you.”
Ultraman just barely, nearly imperceptibly, tipped his head to the side, like a confused dog.
“See? That’s the problem with you,” Lex spat. “You should be a machine. A tool for me to use as I see fit. You were not created to have these little quirks, these habits that make you so unbelievably, stupidly charming. I suppose that comes from him,” Lex was turning red now. “Superman. In hindsight, while you were forming, I certainly could have tweaked some branch in your DNA, made it so you didn’t resemble him so closely. I could have made you imperfect – but that wouldn’t be any fun for anyone, would it?”
He liked this feeling. Blind, fuming rage. It was release for him, let him expel everything negative inside him on everyone around him. He liked it even more when other people got hurt because of him. When he shouted and people flinched, or when his employees cut their hands picking up shards of shattered ceramic. It was only fair – if he had to hurt, then so did everyone else.
“If you didn’t look just like him, then I wouldn’t have the perfect little mindfuck in store,” Lex spoke. “I wouldn’t know what every inch of him looks like, down to the smallest detail. Every pore, every hair. Everything, inside and out.”
His eyes flicked down Ultraman’s body and back up, and the heat in his stomach that had finally started to dissipate reignited. A synapse fired, a half-baked thought formed, and he spoke before he could stop himself.
“Strip. Armor off, now,” he barked, not realizing there were latches that Ultraman couldn’t possibly begin to reach himself. That in order for this sick little plan to hatch, he’d have to strip him himself.
He followed the order anyways, taking his boots off first, then pulling his gloves and gauntlets off. It was when he got to his chest piece that he caught his first roadblock, reaching uselessly at his own back, unable to reach the point of closure.
Lex watched him struggle for a few moments, finding he resembled a dog chasing its tail.
“Turn around, you dimwit,” Lex barked. He deftly undid the clasps that kept Ultraman’s suit airtight, the fabric relaxing instantly and sloughing off his broad shoulders, revealing the soft pudge of his stomach that only barely concealed the hard muscle underneath. He was able to remove the rest of his armor fairly successfully, only stumbling over his boots once as he tried to get his pants off.
Then, he stood in front of Lex, clad only in the black boxer briefs he was provided by LuthorCorp. Tight boxer briefs, the reptile part of Lex’s brain supplied. Even with the underwear on, he could see every detail.
He checked his watch again, the longest he’d gone without checking it in a while. 10:30. He’d spent nearly three hours on this. Whatever this was. He thought he may have started to lose his mind about two hours ago. There was no way he was thinking clearly by this point, not when he turned on his heel and started to walk towards his bedroom, knowing Ultraman would be close behind.
“On the bed,” he said, practically a whisper. His throat felt tight as he watched Ultraman sit on the edge of his mattress, hands lax at his sides.
He sat down beside him, trying to feel anything but awkward. Here he was, fully dressed and sweating, next to a naked, stupid clone of the one being on the planet that he hated more than anyone, more than anything. The situation was ridiculous.
“This is going to be a lot of work for me, isn’t it?” Lex asked then, the silence suffocating. “I can’t expect you to know how to do anything. You’ll need your hand held.”
Lex reached up and started to undo his necktie before he could rationalize. Before he could let any possible moral ramifications of this seep into his brain. As far as he was concerned, he was frustrated. He didn’t work well when he was frustrated. In order to best the Kryptonian, he needed to appease the frustration – however he might achieve that.
Continuing to work at the buttons of his waistcoat with one hand, he leaned over and opened the drawer of the side table, rummaged around in the clutter. Found a condom, a bottle of lube he and Eve never needed.
“God knows you’re not going to be a bit gentle. I’ve seen how you get when you get the barest bit of pleasure. You’re an animal,” Lex said as he slid his vest off his shoulders tossed it to the floor, not noticing the innocuous slip of paper that fell out of the pocket and slid under the bed. “I’ll need to keep you on a tight leash if I have any hope of enjoying this.”
Once he’d gotten his top half fully undressed, he stood to slip out of his pants, which made Ultraman stand up to match.
“No, down,” Lex said, tone the exact one you might use with a dog. “Sit with your legs crossed facing the head of the bed. Hopefully that isn’t too complex for you,” he said, undoing his belt and pulling his pants off, kicking his shoes off with them.
He sat at the head of the bed and stared at Ultraman for a few moments. Had a thought.
“Come here,” he said, urging Ultraman to lean forward, close to him. When his head was within reach, he laced his fingers through his curls, scratched lightly at his scalp. Ultraman let out a whine, barely perceptible, and practically melted against Lex, slumping forward.
Lex held him at a respectable distance, still raking his fingers through his hair and listening to him babble uselessly.
“Yes, you like that, don’t you?” he sneered. “You need me to pet at you like a mutt to be happy, hm? Well, I think you’ll be a lot happier soon enough.”
With that, he pushed Ultraman away, and in the same movement, slipped his own underwear over his legs. He wasn’t hard, not yet, but Ultraman’s eyebrows crinkled at the shove, his lip quivered just barely, and Lex sucked in a sharp breath. It wouldn’t take long, unfortunately.
“Quit pouting and get your own underwear off,” Lex said. He watched intently as Ultraman shimmied out of his underwear, tracing a lazy hand across his own inner thigh. Ultraman had come into the world fully nude. Lex had seen every last inch of him, studied him intently. He looked different now. Somehow simultaneously more and less vulnerable.
“Do you even know how to touch yourself? Or will I have to teach you that too?” Lex asked, mean. He took one of Ultraman’s hands in his, warm and heavy, and moved it to his cock, resting on the bed sheets between his legs.
Ultraman instinctively rutted forward at the contact, whining. Lex took his hand away and he still continued, fucking into his own hand and making pitiful noises. He let him go at it for a couple minutes, just watching, not even bothering to work himself open like he knew he needed to.
Lex hadn’t allowed himself this pleasure in so many years, he’d forgotten how much he enjoyed it – there was a string of guys when he was pursuing his master’s, pure stress relief. As he’d gotten older, focus shifting entirely to his business, it felt unbecoming for him. He’d pivoted to fucking any supermodel or starlet he wanted, felt it was more appropriate for a man of his stature.
Watching Ultraman fuck into his own hand, though, cock already weeping, he forwent his reputation. He’d zoned out so long, he hadn’t quite realized that Ultraman’s rutting was getting sloppier, his whines increasing in pitch.
“Stop, stop,” he said, quick. “Can’t have you finishing all on your own. Now,” and as he spoke, he reclined fully on the bed, legs bracketing Ultraman’s. “Keep still and watch me, you’ll get your reward soon enough.”
Lex uncapped the lube that had been tossed to the side in favor of watching the show in front of him unfold, drizzled some on his fingers. It had been a long time since he’d done this. He knew the stretch would be painful, that he’d need to take extra care, considering Ultraman’s impressive size, but he couldn’t find it within him to care. He reached down between his legs, held eye contact as he teased himself, spreading lube around his hole and sucking in a breath, his hand cold.
He inhaled sharply as he worked his index finger in to the first knuckle, painfully, tantalizingly slow. Some part of him wanted to rush this, eager to take what was waiting in front of him, but he knew better – knew that if he didn’t prep well, anyone with half a brain cell would be able to tell what he’d done. Not with whom, though, his feeble brain supplied.
As he worked his whole index finger in, he remembered suddenly and sharply that he was meant to be on a talk show later today. He only paused for a moment, briefly considering calling the whole thing off. When he glanced up and saw Ultraman, though, looking starved, his cock heavy and drooling, he knew it was only fair to proceed.
He took his sweet time working himself open, careful not to give himself too much enjoyment too quick. He was purely clinical, no clever curls of his fingers to brush against his prostate. He only needed the stretch from himself – Ultraman would do all the work to make him come, he was certain. When he’d eventually worked himself to four fingers, the burn having dissipated to a pleasant warmth, he was so eager to move on he’d realized he didn’t care if it was painful.
He tore the condom wrapper open, beckoned Ultraman close. When he touched him to help him roll it on, he whimpered, trying to force himself into Lex’s hand. “Patience, my precious idiot,” Lex cooed, stilling the motion with his words alone, Ultraman looking at him pleadingly. “You’ll get your treat soon enough.”
Once the condom was on, he poured some more lube out, slathered him in it and smiled at Ultraman’s hands gripping the sheets. He reclined back to where he was before, spread his legs out and bent them up, the familiarity of this position coming back to him quickly.
“Here, boy,” he beckoned his mutt. “Kneel over me, yes, like that,” he brushed a hand over Ultraman’s arm, trailing down to his hip. He guided him down, pushed on his hips. The tip of his cock brushed against his hole and he held his breath. Ultraman was trembling, he noticed, his face flushed.
“You can fuck me now,” Lex said. “Assuming you know what that means.”
Ultraman nearly collapsed with the ferocity that he surged forward with, seeking warm heat.
“You have to be gentle, you oaf,” Lex said, hands firm on Ultraman’s hips. “Easy.”
Ultraman had heard him, but Lex wasn’t sure how much he had listened. He still pressed urgently into Lex, whose breath quickened at the intrusion. By the time Ultraman had bottomed out, Lex was practically panting, and he was quick to hold Ultraman in place.
“Don’t…” he took a shuddering breath. “Don’t move. I have to adjust.”
Ultraman kept still, obeying the command. Though, something in him longed to disobey. He liked things that felt good. He had a hard time controlling the way he felt when he liked something. He was noisy and rambunctious, made extreme faces and made it obvious to everyone he was happy. He was sure he had never experienced something that felt this good.
He knew that Mr. Luthor was an important person to him. He was the first face he had seen when he woke up, and the one that was responsible for much of his training. Mr. Luthor had been a constant in his short life, but he lacked the vocabulary to describe what Mr. Luthor was to him, beyond just that. Mr. Luthor.
He had never been allowed to do this before, let alone with Mr. Luthor. He was already distantly aware that touching the part of him that was currently buried inside Mr. Luthor felt good, but he had only discovered that incidentally, passing touches from people examining him. He’d never known anything in the world to feel this nice. He was using all of his willpower to keep from disobeying Mr. Luthor’s instructions – he knew it was likely that if he did, he would be punished and no longer allowed to play this game.
In all the time Ultraman had been attempting to think, Lex had adjusted as much as he thought he could, and tapped on Ultraman’s flank, giving him the go-ahead. “Slow.”
Ultraman instantly started rutting into Lex, clumsy and erratic. His arms shook underneath him and Lex wrapped his hands around them, making the active choice to support him. Odd.
Despite Ultraman’s glaring inexperience, Lex was huffing out clipped breaths with each of his thrusts – with a cock as big as his, it didn’t take precision to nail his prostate.
On a particularly pointed thrust, Lex arched his back, barked a moan. “Put your hands on my hips,” he said, hands falling from Ultraman’s forearms.
Ultraman held Lex loosely, keeping his grip light. He knew how to show restraint.
“Tighter,” Lex barked, slapping at his hands. “I want bruises.”
Ultraman responded duly, Lex hissing at the squeeze. He was in a vice grip now, and he liked the fleeting thought that he couldn’t escape, despite the rational part of his brain knowing he could stop all of this instantly.
Ultraman was starting to make more noise, low and animalistic whines. He buried his face in Lex’s chest, his curls tickling the bare skin and his mouth open, drool spilling over his pouted lips. Saliva pooled on Lex’s skin, and he would typically be disgusted, but he hardly even noticed, his head thrown back and a steady stream of curses and hiccuped moans flowing freely. His hands had found purchase on Ultraman’s back, clawing at his shoulder blades and leaving no marks.
Ultraman acted of his own accord, planted his best estimation of a kiss, a sloppy thing, on Lex’s chest, and Lex snapped to attention, looked at his creation smiling like a dope against his skin. He couldn’t be sure what he was supposed to feel. He was, in one part, enraged – he hadn’t told him to do that. He had acted on his own will. On the other hand, he couldn’t help but be enamored by the innocent sweetness of the kiss. There was something about the juxtaposition there, wild animalistic actions contrasting with gentle ones.
He let Ultraman continue as he pleased, his lips sliding around in his own drool. One of his hands that had been gripping Ultraman’s back slithered up to find purchase in his hair, scratching at his scalp, and he keened, low and long. Lex felt the vibrations of the noise in his chest, a dull ache alongside them. Distantly, he knew this was bad. This was irreversible. These were distant thoughts, though, and presently, he was focused more on his rapidly approaching orgasm. He could tell Ultraman’s was nearing as well.
“Don’t you dare finish before me,” he huffed, breathing short. “You don’t deserve it.” At his words, Ultraman’s grip on his hips tightened impossibly further, an embarrassingly high-pitched whine tumbling out of Lex’s mouth. “Fuck, you stupid animal,” he spoke, barely more than a whisper. “You’re going to be the death of me, you moron.”
Ultraman whimpered, pace faltering. He lifted his head from where he’d been buried in Lex’s torso, looked at Lex’s flushed face, his brow crinkled.
“Don’t…” Lex trailed off, breathless. “Don’t look at me like that. So sad.” He fought for more words, wanted to rant, but couldn’t find them. He just kept looking at the despondent face in front of him, lost in Ultraman’s watery blue eyes.
“You’re,” he stopped. He tried again. “You’re doing well. Good boy.” The words tasted bitter and rotten, his tongue curling on the last syllable. Ultraman appeared to take it well, though, burying his face back in Lex’s chest and planting several more sloppy kisses. He seemed to be learning, Lex thought absently. More response to non-commands. Time would tell whether or not that was a good thing.
The whole while Lex had been spiraling, Ultraman had barely let up, still thrusting with heavy-handed clumsiness. Heat coiled low in Lex’s stomach and he held his breath, anticipatory. The hand that wasn’t tangled in Ultraman’s hair snaked down to his cock, wrapping around it lazily and furthering him towards that dangerous precipice.
“As hard as you can,” Lex wheezed, yanking on Ultraman’s hair. “Make a goddamn mess of me.”
Ultraman took the command in stride, fucking into Lex with force that he’d been holding back the entire time. He lost himself in it, complete euphoria, having never felt this good before. He was making Mr. Luthor happy, and felt warm and tingly and heavy. He was tired, a feeling he wasn’t used to. He wanted to collapse fully onto Mr. Luthor, bury himself in warm, soft skin. He wanted to crawl inside Mr. Luthor and make a home in his ribcage. He wanted – no, it was more than that – he needed Mr. Luthor.
With one final, cruel twist of his own hand and a particularly pointed jab at his prostate, Lex spilled over his own hand, cum splattering on his stomach in thin ropes. He groaned long and loud, meaningless babble flowing freely. Ultraman liked the way his voice sounded, rumbly and rough, saying his name and Superman’s name and Eve’s name.
Overstimulation set in quickly, the friction and pressure from Ultraman’s relentless thrusting rendering Lex a useless mess, high-pitched, weak whines eventually the only noise he could make. Ultraman was close, though, and as Lex clenched around him, he shrieked. Gripping Lex as tight as he could without breaking his bones, he made increasingly louder and louder animal noises until he finally spilled into the condom, seemingly endlessly thanks to his Kryptonian DNA.
He slowed to an eventual stop, breathing hard and loud, face buried in Lex’s chest, sliding in sweat and spit. Neither of them moved, beyond Ultraman slipping out of Lex. It felt sacrilegious, to break this.
Lex spoke first, voice hoarse and spent. “Job well done.”
No insults, but no particular praise either. Just a simple phrase, one someone might say to an office worker after a good business report. Professional. All the same, Ultraman basked in it, grumbling contentedly against Lex’s skin.
“You seem happy,” Lex mused, hand that had been gripping Ultraman’s hair tight resuming its delicate scratching. “Seems only right. I know how much you enjoy physical stimulus.”
He didn’t speak for several long moments, just listening to Ultraman breathe. He had let himself relax on top of Lex, his weight hot and heavy, and his chest expanded and contracted against Lex’s legs. Lex liked that, feeling him alive against him.
“Did you enjoy yourself?” Lex asked, suddenly, voice falling into a syrupy register that felt unnatural. “Do you even possess the capability to answer a question like that?”
Just barely, but never unnoticed to Lex’s keen eye, there was a nod. A response. Lex grinned.
“Was that a nod? You enjoyed yourself? Look at me, now.”
Ultraman lifted his heavy head and peered into Lex’s piercing eyes, nodding again. When Lex cupped his face in both hands, he leaned into the touch, eyes fluttering closed.
“You are magnificent,” Lex muttered, hushed. “Only I could have created you.” Ultraman practically purred, deep, satiated grumbles.
Lex patted the mattress beside him, beckoning Ultraman to lay with him rather than on top of him. Doing as he was told, mostly, Ultraman clambered off of Lex and plopped down beside him, but proceeded to wrap an arm around him, almost protectively, and rest his head in the space between his shoulder and neck.
“What are you…” Lex started, before he trailed off. There was no sense in getting irritated with him for this. It would only ruin the progress Ultraman had made, undo the steps he’d taken forward. With Ultraman splayed out beside him, Lex was able to get a good look at his own body. His abdomen was smeared with his own cum, and there were conveniently hand-shaped bruises marking his hips, just as he had requested. He knew walking normally was going to be a problem. He wanted to get up and get a washcloth to wipe himself down with, but just as the thought had formed, Ultraman began to snore.
It was charming, really, even Lex could see that. He’d gotten overwhelmed, he supposed. He knew he reacted extremely to positive stimulus, and if what he had felt was anything like what Lex had felt, it was extremely positive stimulus. Lex wasn’t sure he’d ever had a better orgasm. He knew with 100% certainty that Ultraman had never even had an orgasm. Having reminded himself, Lex wrestled his arms out from beneath Ultraman’s smothering grasp and pulled the condom off, trying to decide whether or not it was a sample worth holding onto. Ultimately, he decided it wasn’t worth the lie he’d have to come up with and pitched it.
Distantly, Lex remembered the talk show he was meant to be on at two. He glanced over at the wall clock, read a quarter past noon. He tried to recall exactly which talk show he was due on, considered how much he respected the host.
Not enough, he realized. His eyelids were drooping low, the restless and lackluster sleep of the night before combined with today’s strenuous activity catching up with him. He’d compartmentalize this entire experience later. Right now, he wanted nothing more than to sleep.
As his eyes fell closed, he knew with absolute certainty that he would regret all of this, that it could never happen again. What he also knew, though, is that the chances of it happening again, regardless of what could or couldn’t happen, were high. He didn’t feel nearly as frustrated now, he thought grimly.
-
When Lex eventually woke, Ultraman was still wrapped around him, awake now, tracing meaningless shapes on Lex’s chest with his pointer finger. Lex glanced over at the clock again, saw it was three in the afternoon. Business brain yelled wasted day, but lizard brain won out, and he ignored the clock entirely, choosing rather to engage with Ultraman.
“What are you doing?” he asked, voice raspy with sleep.
Ultraman said no words, but grunted in response, poking Lex’s chest. He continued to trace his finger over the smooth skin, as Lex tried to make sense of it. He couldn’t find any common shapes or pictures, and resigned to assume that it truly was meaningless.
“You’re bored, aren’t you,” Lex said, more of a statement than a question. “No meaningful stimuli for about three hours, yes, I’d imagine you’re restless. How about we get cleaned up, hm?”
When Lex moved to swing his legs over the side of the bed and stand up, he winced. He was unfathomably sore, would be for the foreseeable future. When he stood, he was shaky. It was all distinctly embarrassing, this weakness. When he started to stumble towards the bathroom, in an instant, Ultraman was at his back, supporting him.
Just this morning, the touch, the width of Ultraman’s heavy palm at the small of his back would have sent him into a rage – now, he didn’t feel it was fair. To yell at him for this touch when only a few hours ago he was buried inside him felt hypocritical in a way that didn’t usually concern Lex.
In the bathroom, a hot shower running, Lex had Ultraman sit on the toilet seat lid, wiping him down with a washcloth. Ultraman smiled, stupid, at the contact, willingly moving however Lex positioned him to get him clean. When Lex came to his dick, holding it clinically to wipe at the skin, Ultraman yelped, pushing into the contact.
“Not again, stupid,” Lex said, lacking his usual venom. “Not right now. I’m just cleaning you. You have to get back to your real job, you know that?”
Ultraman didn’t know anything. He knew Mr. Luthor had tried to hurt him, but then Mr. Luthor had made him feel very good. He knew Mr. Luthor was touching him now and that it felt nice. He didn’t know much of anything beyond that.
Lex tossed the washcloth to the side and stepped into the shower, leaving Ultraman sitting alone. He whimpered softly when Mr. Luthor was gone, quiet enough that Lex didn’t hear it over the water. As the hot water ran over his body, the sweat dried to his skin running away, he let out a terse breath. Finally out of sight of the clone, he could attempt to make sense of what he’d done, if only for a few moments before he stepped out of the shower.
He couldn’t let this affect anything. Eve could never know. He had to ignore this sickening fondness for Ultraman that had hatched in his chest, had to realize that he was still just a tool. A stupidly charming tool, yes, but still a tool nonetheless.
Finished cleaning himself, turning the water off, Lex stepped out of the shower and bit back an audible coo. Ultraman was in the exact same position Lex had left him in, presumably having watched the shower door the whole time, waiting for Lex to return.
“I’m back, moron,” Lex said, syrupy despite the insult. “Hand me that towel there.” Ultraman did, and Lex wrapped it around himself, stepping out of the bathroom.
Towel held in place, Lex started to gather up clothes and armor, separating them into neat piles on his disastrously messy bed. The fitted sheet had once again popped loose in one corner, the comforter completely off the bed and the top sheet mangled. The pillows were where they were meant to be, but flattened against the headboard. Their bodies had left an indent in the mattress, and Lex made a mental note to flip it before Eve was in it again.
“I need to bring you back to the office,” Lex murmured, pulling clothes back on. “As much as, admittedly, I would enjoy keeping you around here, you do have a job there. Get dressed, I’ll help you when you need it.”
He needed help re-latching his body suit, but after Lex had fastened him into it, he put on his gloves, gauntlets, boots, and extraneous pieces quickly and effectively, resembling more the machine he was intended to be and less the dog-like clumsy lover he had been today.
As he reached for his mask to replace it, Lex caught his hands before he could raise to his face, giving him pause. His face remained mostly blank, a barely perceptible quirk of the eyebrow indicating curiosity.
“Just want to get one more look at you,” Lex muttered, staring into his neutral expression. He pushed all the hair back from his face, really took in his features. He was such a perfect replica, he could almost envision that he really was the Kryptonian. He wasn’t sure yet if that made the sex better or worse. He glanced up and down his face, lingered on his lips for just a second too long. He shook his head, as if that would clear his thoughts, and backed away from Ultraman.
“Go on, then,” he said, looking down. “We need to leave.”
He ignored the drop in his stomach as Ultraman concealed himself. Forced himself to walk normally to the elevator despite the screaming pain in his entire lower half. When he stumbled over the threshold and Ultraman caught him, he didn’t say a word.
The ride to the ground floor was silent but not stifling. Ultraman was the same monolith he was before, and Lex fixed his facial expression into his public persona of cool, collected ego. Appearances were important to Lex. When he told himself that nobody would know what he had done, he meant it. Unless Ultraman miraculously learned how to communicate like a human being and spill this secret, Lex would carry this to his grave.
-
Back at LuthorCorp, nobody looked at Lex any different than they would have anyways. It wasn’t unusual for him to blow off media appearances like he had today, and most knew better than to question him on that. He dropped Ultraman off in a training room and headed to his office. Eve was curled up on one of the chairs in the corner, reading a magazine, when he walked in, and she tossed it to the side to hop up and hug him,
“Hi, baby!” she exclaimed, planting a kiss on his cheek. “You look tired, are you okay?” Her face crumpled up in concern, all her expressions huge.
“Yes, Eve, I’m fine,” he replied, curt. He turned to the side and gave her a quick kiss, patting his hand on her hip. “Just had to do some things at home.”
She smiled and sat back in her place, returning to her magazine, happy with Lex’s answer. She believed anything he said, which was lucky for Lex, seeing as about half the things he said to her were lies. He sat behind his desk and took out some paperwork, resigning himself to a menial task so as to distract from everything he’d been thinking about all day.
Still though, his mind wandered to Ultraman, all alone in a big empty room, bored and understimulated by the human equipment around him that wasn’t even a challenge. Feeling sorry for the creature was a slippery slope, he reminded himself. He wasn’t a human. He was barely even alive. Just a mindlessly obedient tool.