Lex had been ranting for the better part of an hour. Clark wasn't sure what Lex was upset about; he'd stopped listening a while ago. Clark had learned early on that Lex could bitch like a pro. Sometimes, it made him wish for the days when he had to pry Lex's feelings from him, before he had gotten comfortable in their relationship.

They were in the dining room of the Luthor-Kent mansion, half-empty lunch plates on the table. Clark was in his usual chair, dressed casually in plaid and brown slacks. Lex was over by the sideboard where the alcohol was kept, though he had given up trying to open the locked cabinet.

"A Luthor doesn't take it up the ass, Clark," Lex snarled, waving his ivory-topped walking cane like a baton. Without the support, he began to list to the right, his knee no longer capable of holding his weight.

Clark zipped over, grasped his long-time companion around the waist, and steadied him. "I beg to differ, Lex," Clark said with a wink.

Lex snorted in derision. "We stopped doing that when I started wearing adult diapers." The octogenarian whapped the white-haired superhero in the leg with his cane. "And I'm being serious, here. It is not the time for bad jokes."

Even at ninety-one, Lex Luthor commanded respect. He was bird-like in size, his pale skin paper-thin and dotted with age spots, but he still stood tall. The brackets around his mouth and eyes were deep from decades of frowns and worry, smiles and laughter. His steel-blue eyes were as sharp as his mind.

"Sorry," Clark apologized. He leaned against the sideboard, not relinquishing his hold on Lex. "You were complaining?"

"Watch it, Super-old-man. I know the real reason you wear your briefs on the outside," Lex warned.

Clark wrinkled his nose. "How many times do I have to tell you, it's part of Kryptonian fashion?"

"I'm talking about yesterday before we went to Bingo."

Eighty-five years old, and Clark still blushed fire-engine red when embarrassed. "It's a habit."

"It's a mark on your Senior Moment chart." Lex smirked. "I shouldn't have told you to fix yourself. Marge would've loved to see you wearing your BVDs over your corduroys."

"Yeah, well, at least I still have my teeth."

Lex rolled his eyes. "That was old the first hundred times you said it." He whacked Clark with his cane again and hobbled away. "Let's go. I want to lodge a protest with Dr. Kimberly."

Clark glanced down, making sure his briefs were not on display, as he trailed after Lex. "Why?"

"Why?!" Lex was indignant. "Haven't you been listening to a word I've said?"

"I'm old. I have bad hearing."

"I'm older and have a bullshit detector."

Dr. Kimberly Metworth, their resident geriatric doctor, was seated at her desk in her office. Clark liked her, even though he didn't need a doctor. She was young, blond, and as tough as nails. A person had to be when working for Lex Luthor. The only reason Clark had survived with Lex for seventy years was, because he was Superman.

"Dr. Kimberly," Lex growled, stomp-clacking over to her. "I specifically requested a patty-melt for lunch today."

"You cannot have a patty-melt, Mr. Luthor," Dr. Kimberly said. "It's not a part of your diet."

"The agencies are not looking for ninety-one-year-old bald geezers to model, so I don't need to diet."

"I think you're sexy enough to model," Clark said to Lex.

Lex gave him a look. "You're also senile."

"Mr. Luthor, your cholesterol level is too high for you to be having patty-melts," Dr. Kimberly said. "Do you want to have a heart attack?"

"Dr. Kimberly, I am going to die in bed with Clark's mouth around my cock, not from a patty-melt," Lex stated. "So put it back on the menu."

"Lex, don't be crude," Clark scolded, not embarrassed. He was used to Lex's vulgarity.

"It's not crude, it's the truth," Lex said.

"It won't be the truth if you're crude," Clark countered.

"You'll have more than one blowjob without dying if patty-melts are off the menu," Dr. Kimberly interjected bluntly.

Lex looked thoughtful. Clark hid his laugh with a fake cough. He really liked Dr. Kimberly.

"Very well," Lex said finally. "But I want a list of what I can't eat before dinnertime." He started out of the office. "C'mon, Clark. I'm horny now."

Clark paused, glancing worriedly at Dr. Kimberly. She waved him away. "Mr. Luthor is fine. Go, have fun. Press the panic button if you need me."

"Thanks." Clark beamed a smile at her and hustled after Lex.

The master suite was once the living room, converted when Lex could no longer climb the stairs. The housekeeper had been and gone, the king-sized bed made, clothing picked up, the various bottles of pills, creams, and denture adhesive lined neatly on the nightstand. Sunlight streamed through the filmy white curtains over the full-length windows. The scent of the freshly cut flowers in the vase on the dresser mixed pleasantly with the smell of bleach and Ben-gay.

Lex disappeared into the master bath, not bothering to close the door behind him. Clark shrugged out of his clothing, catching sight of himself in the mirror above the dresser. He was somewhat thin, his muscles having faded with age, and his hair was white all over, but everything was still in working order. He occasionally went out to help save the world, but most of his time was spent with Lex. Dr. Kimberly called them a couple of dirty old men, which he supposed they were, and it didn't bother him at all.

Lex shuffled out of the bathroom, minus his shoes, pants, and Depends. His navy sweater-vest and the tails of his light blue shirt were draped over his semi-aroused penis. His navy socks were pulled up over his calves on his scarred, thin white legs.

Clark had to be getting senile, because he really did think Lex was sexy.

"Try not to kill me," Lex warned, joints creaking as he sat on the bed. He leaned his cane against the wall between the bed and nightstand. "Reginald's poker game is tomorrow and I plan to win this time."

"You never win," Clark said, carefully arranging his lover on his back. "You can't read the red cards anymore."

"Don't argue -- suck," Lex said, "and make it worth giving up patty-melts."

Clark laughed, grabbed a tissue, and settled on the bed beside Lex. He lowered his head, still not sick of hearing the breathy moan after seventy years, as he took Lex in his mouth. Although they weren't physically intimate that often anymore, the reactions were still the same despite their age.

Lex was heavy and hot on Clark's tongue, and Clark stroked his own hardened flesh as he tended to Lex, bringing them both pleasure. It didn't take long for Lex to reach the edge, and he climaxed with a curse that made Clark silently chuckle.

Clark brushed a kiss on Lex's pale thigh and shifted on the bed so he faced Lex. Lex turned partially on his side, sated blue eyes watching Clark. Lex's grip wasn't as strong as it once was, but his touch still inflamed Clark. With Lex's hand stroking above his own, Clark came in the tissue shortly thereafter and earned a lazy smile from Lex. Clark claimed a quick kiss before getting up and heading to the bathroom.

When he returned with Lex's clothing, Lex's eyes were shut and his breathing steady. Clark was feeling rather sleepy himself, post-orgasm, and he re-dressed in only his underwear and trousers. He re-dressed Lex, too, being careful not to wake him, and got back into bed.

Clark curled beside Lex, facing him. He studied the peacefully sleeping features, memorizing them again, even though they were as familiar as his own. "What am I going to do without you?" he whispered, dreading the day when Lex took his final breath.

"I'm not dead yet, you idiot," Lex said, opening his shrewd eyes. "And I don't plan on dying anytime soon."

"You sure?"

"Of course I'm sure," Lex replied waspishly. "I'm not bored with you yet." He shut his eyes again. "Now, stop being a girl and go to sleep."

"Okay." Clark was mollified enough to close his eyes. Sleep beckoned with gently lapping waves.

Just before he drifted off, Lex took his hand, entwining their fingers together.

He fell asleep with a smile on his face.


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