The funny thing about Stryker's Island was that superheroes weren't really welcome there. It was the place where human justice took over from masked vigilantism, and no one there liked to think about exactly how dependent they actually were on the costumed crazies that were now a permanent feature of the American urban landscape. Clark knew this perfectly well, and it was why he would have preferred to come as Clark Kent, perfectly normal reporter, instead of Superman, but there was no way Lex would have agreed to see one of his Daily Planet nemeses in his disgrace.
So Superman endured the grim looks from the guards on every one of his regular visits to the special compound at Stryker's that housed the supervillains. It was just another one of the weird side-effects of the job, and not actually weirder, when you thought about it, than the reason he was there in the first place.
As he was buzzed into Cell SP-12B that afternoon, Lex was pulling back fiercely on a resistance band attached to the bed. He was shirtless and covered with a light sheen of sweat, his back muscles bulging, apparently completely absorbed in the strain of his exercise. He only relaxed the tension in his arm when Clark cleared his throat.
"Superman," he said, tossing aside the band. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"The same as always. The League has some questions."
"They're an inquisitive bunch." Lex reached for a towel and wiped his face before turning around to face Clark. "However, I'm no more in the mood to incriminate myself today than I have been during the rest of my time here."
Clark moved closer. "Cooperation could help--"
"Cooperation isn't going to get me out of here, Superman. My lawyers are."
"Glass Curtain staged an attack in Burkina Faso using attack armor that bore a strong resemblance to the LexCorp Special Assault Unit Mark 8."
"And I can't tell you how much that pains me." He paused. "Oh, wait, I can. Not in the slightest."
"You won't talk?"
Lex sat in his desk chair. "I won't talk." He waved a hand. "You're wasting your time, Superman."
All right. He'd done his best. Clark caught Lex's hand where it hung and ran his thumb up the back of it. "Well, then. I'll have to think of some other way to spend it."
Lex's grin up at him was a shark's. "Do your friends at the League know what you really come here for?"
"J'onn probably does," he said honestly. "And Batman might."
"He's paranoid enough."
"But it's none of their business." That was true. He'd known Lex before the League had even existed. He'd saved him from a mugging in a rainstorm, accepted an invitation to "come in and dry off," and ended up spending the night. It had been...enjoyable...but it had never been too serious--Lex had always been frank about his other "interests," and honestly, Clark wasn't out to acquire a boyfriend for Superman. Clark hadn't realized how much their winding up enemies bothered him until the day he'd learned that Lex was dying. He hadn't realized how much it bothered Lex until that same day, when they'd been in the hospital together. Lex's bitterness then had gone way beyond the kind of professional enmity he directed at people like Lois; the undertone of their conversation would've been obvious even to a stranger watching it, and Clark had been surprised that the doctor hadn't fled the room in embarrassment. It had really made Clark see things in a different light.
And now Lex wasn't dying, but he wasn't a threat anymore, either, and Clark had been surprised at how much he missed having Lex as a frequent feature of his life. His job seemed dull without LexCorp's founder to worry about--in fact, it was duller. Lois was chafing with boredom and looking everywhere for conspiracies to take over the world. Clark--Clark ended up coming to Stryker's, once a month. Regular as clockwork. There was always League business.
Lex was giving him a skeptical look, so he repeated, firmly, "It's none of their business," and kissed him. Lex's response was immediate, his free hand snaking up to cup him through the uniform. Clark groaned. "Lex--"
"You talk too much, Superman," Lex said breathlessly, working his other hand loose to pull at the zipper on Clark's back. "After all, you only get forty-five minutes."
And it was weirdly exciting—having Lex, strong as a bull, shove the shoulders of the suit down impatiently, then yanking it past his hips himself, as the clock ticked relentlessly. Maybe because it was so different from the moves in the leisurely game Clark and Lois were playing, knowing they had all the time in the world to work it out between them. This was here and now and hard and fast, and God help him, so hot he wanted to be inside Lex that second.
And he was a man of action, so Clark grabbed Lex by the shoulders and pushed him down onto the bed. The twin was so narrow that Clark couldn't join him without simply straddling him, but that was fine by him. Lex looked up at him and chuckled. "I wonder if the world realizes that their hero goes commando."
Clark flushed. "I don't. Just…here."
"Really? How sweet—"
"Now who's talking too much, Lex?" Clark leaned down and kissed him again, pulling down the prison-issued pants, grinning to feel Lex's arousal. They were both of them so big that having sex in the bed was always awkward, but Clark didn't mind. He liked the confined feeling when they wrestled with each other, the sense that neither of them could move without rubbing up against the other, skin on skin, hard cocks impossible to hide or deny. Totally different from soaring through the sky with Lois, but just as good. They were tangled up together hopelessly until they both came, inevitable and inescapable…
He humped against Lex, shameless as a teenager, and Lex growled. The bed creaked and the metal banged against the wall. Clark wondered briefly whether they'd ever wrench the bolts out of the floor. Lex hooked his feet behind Clark's ankles and his arm around Clark's neck and tried to flip them, but Clark grabbed the bedframe and held on, letting Lex arch up uselessly against him.
When Lex relaxed, he whispered in his ear, "Give up?"
"I'm never going to give up, Superman," Lex panted. "Never."
"I'm not going to stop either, Lex." They strained and shoved against each other. Clark finally reached down and captured both their cocks in one hand, working them, making them jostle together so that the friction curled his toes. "Not ever—"
Lex writhed beneath him, blatantly trying to get the angle he wanted to rub against Clark. He gripped Clark's hair hard enough to make a human yell, then sank his teeth into Clark's neck. The bite couldn't hurt him, of course, but the feel of that desperately intimate grip was too much, and warmth spurted over his hand. He kept stroking, though, refusing to let down until Lex gave a strangled cry and came, too.
They subsided against each other, chests heaving, and Clark wished he didn't have to move, didn't have to pull apart their interlocked legs and put on the uniform and go. He shut his eyes to pretend he didn't, let himself just breathe in Lex's scent and the lingering traces of their sex.
"Good," Lex muttered, patting absently at his head.
"What?" He opened his eyes again.
"Nothing." Lex lifted his head and peered at the clock. "You've got about two minutes to get dressed, Superman."
He still didn't know how Lex could shift out of it so fast. Impulsively, Clark pressed his own mouth against Lex's neck and sucked hard. Hard enough to leave a mark. At least that way he'd have to feel something while Clark wrapped himself up in the spandex again. He'd have to remember it, at least a little, until Clark visited again.
He paused at the door. "I'll be back again next month, Lex."
Lex sounded bored and dismissive. "My answer isn't going to change, Superman."
As he followed the guard down the hallway, Clark whispered, "Good."