Ad Valorem

It used to be easy for Lex Luthor to get laid. A stroke of a pool cue, a sip of a long-necked bottle of water, standing still and breathing: it took very little for either gender to spread their legs for him. His name alone guaranteed one person in three wanted to sleep with him. If he lacked companionship from being exiled to the sticks, a single phone call was all it took for sex to come to him. And when he fell in love with his best friend, getting laid became even easier: he only needed to turn his head to find Clark in bed beside him.

But time had passed and his body wasn’t as tight as it had been. He had things like age spots, crows-feet, and love handles to contend with. What little hair he had was gray as ash. He was shrinking height-wise at a disconcerting rate. He was in good health, but parts creaked audibly when he moved and there were certain positions he couldn’t bend in any longer. Sadly, he wasn’t horny as often, either.

There was a certain part of the year, however, that worked like Viagra on both him and Clark.

Tax season.

It started in February, when Clark’s W-2 from the Daily Planet arrived at home. The envelope declared: ‘IMPORTANT TAX DOCUMENT ENCLOSED.’ Lex put it on the table for Clark to see.

That night, Clark kissed Lex hard enough to knock his dentures loose.

A week or so later, Lex visited the public library, picked up federal and state joint tax return forms, and left them out for Clark to find. Clark joined him in the shower the following morning.

Clark was still quite fit and handsome. His dark hair was streaked with silver. Deep lines creased his face, around his mouth and the corners of his eyes, from sixty-six years of smiling. His body hadn’t succumbed to age, his heritage keeping him firm in all the important places. His strong, sure hands knew where and how to touch. He smiled with unwavering lust and affection as he soaped Lex from head-to-toe and everywhere in between.

Lex’s come was indistinguishable from the creamy soap lather as it swirled down the drain.

The night the books J.K Lasser’s Income Tax Guide, New Federal Tax Laws, and New Kansas State Tax Laws appeared on the bedside table, Lex received a blowjob that knocked him flat for twelve hours. He grinned the entire while he was unconscious.

Lex saved the best until the deadline for filing was almost upon them. Considering they usually fell asleep in front of the television around eight o’clock, he made sure the late afternoon was free for both of them for the annual seduction of his long-time lover, where he spoke in the Kryptonian language of love.

“Accrual,” Lex whispered in Clark’s ear, sliding his hand along Clark’s bare flank. They were in bed, fully unclothed with Clark already prepared. They were old and seduction went a bit differently nowadays. Stripping was not sexy at seventy-one, and foreplay was overrated when play itself was only an occasional occurrence.

“Intangible asset.” Lex pressed his lips to the middle of Clark’s back, leaving a trail of kisses in between words. “Intrinsic value…joint owned property…horizontal equity…”

On his hands and knees, Clark wiggled against Lex, Lex’s slicked erection rubbing against Clark’s firm ass. “More.”

“Guaranteed investment,” Lex complied, aligning himself for a rocking slide into the hot, tight body in front of him. “Recognized gain.”

Clark made a high-pitched whimper of pleasure, which went directly to Lex’s cock. “Resident alien,” Lex said roughly, finding a rhythm. “Fixed… asset… security…”

“Oh, god,” Clark rasped, trembling around him.

“Partner…ship… App…re…ci…a…tion…”

Clark groaned, low and long. “God, yes.”

“Perpetuity!” Lex’s eyes squeezed shut as his climax hit like a freight train. He shuddered hard, joints creaking in protests, and then collapsed over Clark’s back. He felt Clark finding his own release as Lex attempted to catch his breath.

“Oh!” Clark trembled under Lex before falling still. After a moment, he reached an arm around and wrapped it across Lex in an awkward hug.

Sated, Lex mumbled into Clark’s shoulder, “Thank you, IRS.”

Clark chuckled, slapped Lex’s ass, and they disentangled themselves, only to re-tangle again once Clark cleaned them both up.

Lex had not figured out why Clark was so turned on by tax season, but by April 15th of every year, he’d reaped the benefits and had gotten laid.

He never told Clark that he didn’t know his ass from an asset. The accountants did their taxes every year.


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