Summary: Clark has a rather embarrassing allergy, and Lex comes to the rescue.

Warnings: Rated R. m/m.

The problem with alien technology zapping knowledge into Clark's brain was that it so rarely made any sense. This latest go-around had left behind broken phrases about molecular compatibility and hormonal similarity and yada-yada-yah. He thought maybe it had something to do with sex, but, really, it was all Kryptonian to him.

Things became somewhat more clear when kissing Lana gave him boils, hugging Chloe broke him out in a red, scaly rash and making out with Clare, the new girl in school who actually thought he was cute, did something to his dick that was best left undescribed. In a fit of desperation, he hightailed it back to the caves, but the rock wall remained stubbornly dark and silent, not a glimmer of further explanation to be had.

His natural impulse was to run to the mansion, an instinct he didn't even try to fight. After interrupting Lex in the middle of what was probably a multi-million dollar business deal, he babbled away his secrets in a hysterical stream of "alien" and "allergic to humans" and "can't ever have sex."

Lex calmed him down and pressed him for details and startled him with a kiss. It was even more of a surprise when the kiss didn't hurt or make his balls shrivel up, but actually felt incredibly good. It was an exciting discovery and led inevitably to groping and nakedness and enthusiastic rutting on the Persian rug.

When they finally lay sticky and exhausted and entwined together, Lex explained with a satisfied smile, "You were meant to have sex with men. That's what the AI was trying to tell you."

Clark snuggled closer and sighed with relief. He could handle being allergic to girls, just as long as he wasn't allergic to Lex.