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The Rise and Fall of The Last Kryptonian Consort

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“Kneel before Zod.” He’s already kneeling. Anyone else would find the odds of winning staggering. Even hopeless. But that’s one thing he hasn’t lost yet, hope.

Clark submits and feels something inside melting into a viscous puddle. Is it pride, dignity, or hope? Not even he can identify what is happening as he fights the enemy of his father, the enemy of his friend—maybe his friend.

“ Your allegiance is accepted.” Zod crouches down to Clark’s level, bringing blue-grey eyes closer than they’ve been in a long time. The effect is startling and it takes all of his will to not back away. To not run. To not fight. To not fail.

Lex doesn’t want that even if he is dead.

Zod looks at him. His eyes are…soft, scaring Clark more than he can possibly say out loud. “Now, repeat…” Clark could be binding his soul, opening another portal to the phantom zone—whatever it is that he repeats it, the words rolling off his tongue as Zod continues to hold his hand.

There’s an eerie blue light emanating from their point of union and he soon feels lightheaded and faint; everything around him seems to appear as if he were using his superspeed, it’s all blurring, merging and dizzying. A Kryptonian roofie, Clark thinks.

The bastard, Clark remembers saying.

Before he can keel over into the dirt, hands are on him and then the far familiar feeling of whooshing past the world takes over. The world seems to reach its threshold as stars explode in his eyes. It’s all a kaleidoscope of colors, shapes, sounds. All merging and drifting in an exciting harmony. How can nature be so nonchalant, so whimsical even when the only thing left is doom?

He says something aloud, because Zod turns his head slightly and laughs. He doesn’t chuckle or smirk like Lex, he laughs and says, “It won’t be that bad. I promise.”

When they clear, everything is cooler, darker, stationary and he’s inside of Lex’s bedroom, though it looks strange from his upside down view over Zod’s shoulder. Zod hurls him like a sack of potatoes off his shoulder and through the air. Clark lands on a bed and Zod gives him a look which says 'stay there'.

"Fuck you,” he says it with plenty of defiance and conviction.

Zod looks considerate, tilting his head partially to the side as if he is translating it, he steps towards the bed and smirks in that entirely Lex and non-Lex way. “No, I believe the situation is going to show that I will fuck you.”

He’s never felt like this. Like a whore, a liar, a hypocrite. No matter all the words Lex or anyone else has thrown at him or has wanted to use against him, there is no competing with this feeling. Clark hides the fact that he’s fantasized about Lex. He hides the fact that somewhere inside he still wants Lex as his friend and as more.

But here, right now, with Zod lying on top of him using Lex’s face, Lex’s body and Lex’s voice, he knows that Lex is still alive. Some part of him knows that only Lex would punish him with his own feelings. An old Lionel Luthor hat trick it is. But, he is--Clark is torn between what he feels and what he knows.

Zod is resting between his legs, snapping his hips so hard, it feels as though Clark will always feel it, always be marked inside even after this is long over. His hands are over his head, wrists encircled by Zod’s grip that’s as hard as his own. As the thrusts become harder and more frenzied and the pressure increases on his wrists, he vaguely wonders if they’ll be broken, if they’ll bruise. The outside of him will match the inside…perfectly.

When Zod finally comes with a final surge of his hips that truly hurts Clark, the puddle inside feels as though it has grown into a small lake. He allows Zod to touch him and watch him through sagging eyelids. Too tired to fight at the moment. Just too tired. Yet thankful in some small fashion that he’s not drowning.


The plan goes off without a hitch with one major overhaul. Zod realizes bringing back Krypton is the biggest mistake he could possibly make. He really should be imprisoned in the phantom zone if he were going to give up such power, such control.

There’s already so much at his fingertips. Brainiac choose well. There’s no need to alter the humans anymore than he already has. In the time that Zod should have been using to reshape the world and call for the dissolving of every world government, he instead reads Lex’s notes: his plans for the future and his company and even his notes on Kal-el.

Though mostly speculation, Zod reads and becomes intrigued and feels a vague sense of contentment. He knows those feelings belong to Lex Luth-or, he’s not entirely gone, but he will never have control over this body. This vessel, just like Kal-el, belongs to him.

He feels closer to Kal-el…to Clark. And pleasure begins to come to him as he unites himself with the only other free Kryptonian in the universe. All that time saved. It’s almost as if he can laugh at Jor-el’s punishment now. Look at it as an unpleasant detour to his rightful place.

He learns and absorbs quickly. Though primitive in some ways, the Earth is still very fascinating. In his free time, he’s taken Kal—he’s taken Clark on his back, on his stomach, on his hands and knees and there is nothing more pleasurable than knowing he can make Jor-el’s son enjoy mewling and begging.

If the old plan were still in action, he’d announce to the world he’d found a worthy consort who even in defeat was far more graceful than any piece of human filth. Instead, he has his computer engineer a genuine Kryptonian engagement bracelet with the not-so subtle inscription along its most prominent side declaring--Zod’s.

Clark hates him, and Zod loves it.


Zod was a general longer than Kal-el will ever know. He knows about war. He knows about the intricacies of conflict and he understands the meaning of acceptable loss. He promises Clark that Lana will be released.

Zod releases her just as he promises. Clark doesn’t expect him to do it right there in Lex’s office, but he does.

He kisses her wounded hand and declares she’s free. She looks at him, then Clark. She gets it now and appreciates him taking her place. “ Thank you.” She hisses.

Zod replies with an eerie smile. He snaps Lana’s neck.

And Clark has no more will to fight.

To Zod, she isn’t collateral damage, just an impediment to their rightful destiny and surely, Lex could agree.


Zod is great at pretending to be Lex, because no one seems to notice. No one seems to question, except Clark. Because Clark knows Lex better than anyone ever will. At times he pulls off the act flawlessly with hints of virtuosity that any true master would envy.

Zod calls himself benevolent by inviting Martha to the castle to see Clark. Though nothing is right, she still tries to pretend as if this is Lex and this is her son, Clark, not defeated but reconciled. All the while her mind churns with ideas with possibilities. She will free her son, even if it’s the last thing she does.


No one says anything to Lex or Zod as he freely flaunts his will against common taboo. Like taking Clark with him everywhere, holding his hand and apparently mauling him in public. It is not Zod’s intent to humiliate Clark, but to show him what he’s missing by not knowing Krypton. All he is doing is informing the world. Clark feels as though they are the pairing of doom.

Zod talks to him at night. He strokes his hair and watches him breathe. Clark is often silent. Just listening to Zod speak of Krypton, its joys, its wonders, its beauty. He hates Krypton sometimes, but never as much as he hates Zod.

Zod tells him his plans. Always emphasizing that his plans aren’t that different from Lex’s. Someway or another, Clark would belong to Lex and be like an addict to a drug that only this vessel could provide. When he talks about other plans for the future, Clark grips the bed so hard he removes springs. His flesh crawls, but he relaxes when Zod covers his hands and lays soft kisses on the backs.


The first time Clark finds himself hugging the toilet for dear life as he wretches his guts out, he actually hopes that he has contracted some sort of Kryptonian disease and that he is going to die. A way out would be paved and ready for him.

When he finds out the very opposite, he fights Zod, lashing out with more intensity than their last battle. Clark rages against Zod, nearly destroying half of the castle in his wake. Not once did Zod hit him back. When he finally gives up, Zod rests beside him and opts to hold him, touch his shoulders then his arms, tilts up his chin bringing them face to face though Clark refuses to look at him and smiles.

Clark vomits again out of principle.

Cheers to the glorious heir of Krypton! Zod toasts that night.


It is almost too easy to reach the caves, then the fortress. Clark didn’t expect to find anything left, but the place was untouched. When the whipping of the cold wind is the only answer he receives, Clark realizes he must do this on his own. Jor-el has abandoned him. Just like Lex.

He wraps his arms around his expanded belly and feels the cold for the first time. And that’s when he realizes the only way to be rid of the last vestiges of Krypton is by using Krypton itself.

Now, they’re together again. This time with their positions reversed, Zod on his knees and Clark standing before him. And then there’s the blade made of meteor rock and the handle made of lead. There’s no joy, really no catharsis when Clark stabs Zod. When he rends him and gives him peace that Clark will never have again. He gets him in the belly while distracting him with a farewell kiss. A slow hot kiss that leaves Clark open to Zod who willingly explores.

Clark will never forget the touch of Zod’s hand over his stomach or the feeling of suddenly drowning. The puddle has now become an ocean.


After Lex returns, the world seems out of focus and absurd. Lies won’t work as there is nothing to hide. Pictures of the two of them are everywhere, though Lex can scarcely remember the last time he’s actually seen Clark or a time alone with Clark when he’s actually been happy.

It’s worse than an atomic blast when he catches Clark. They scream, yell and accuse. It’s nothing like the last six months under Zod. Nothing.

The kissing is rough and groping fierce. There’s no contest for dominance, because Clark willing yields to Lex. Again they’re whole. This time for different reasons. Like oppositely charged particles, they can’t stay away from each other. It’s as if nothing’s changed except for the oncoming approach of a baby that Lex can’t remember creating. There’s no need, because Clark will never forget the feel of Lex’s hands on his body.

Clark curses himself when he misses Zod. When he hates Lex and wishes that things were still the same. He’s ashamed and sulks and easily plays off his feelings as a product of the pregnancy.

When she’s born, everything changes again.

They’re finally right. There’s nothing standing between them. Not Jonathan. Not Lionel. Not Lana. No one.

There are no more lies between them. Just a vast ocean that no one else seems to understand. Lex reaches out to Clark and Clark reaches out to Lex. Zod may have been the bridge, but the rest is destiny. And that’s all that matters anyway.