Morgan Edge didn't know whether to be pleased or disappointed when the key and security code he'd been given worked. The one thing he was certain of was Dominic Senatori would not continue living much longer. It was inexcusable to simply give him the information. The fact that Morgan was already in possession of the security code was moot. That was the result of days of hard work and expensive computer hackers. This was the man Lionel trusted to keep his home guarded simply handing a known criminal information for free. It was ludicrous.

Not that Morgan was a threat to Lionel. And not that Dominic wasn't well aware of their relationship (under threat of death if it got out, of course). Yet, it was a killer's world, and Morgan was a killer. Besides, there was a reason Lionel hadn't given him access to his penthouse in the last year. Even though Morgan and Dominic both knew it was a imbecilic reason, Dominic still should have honored it.

All moral outrage aside, however, Morgan was grateful for the final piece of information, as easy as it would have been to obtain himself. It was more the invitation Morgan needed. Over the past few months, he'd been filled with a growing concern over reports of Lionel's behavior, yet had stayed away out of .... He wasn't exactly sure why he'd stayed away. Respect was possible, but fear was even more likely.

It had been cowardice, as shameful as it was to admit. Sheer cowardice and an abject fear of being dismissed just as everyone else had. Which, of course, was impossible, since he was Morgan Edge and not some floozy kept to warm Lionel's bed when he was bored. Morgan was permanent.

He hoped.

It was wonderful to have easy access to Lionel again. Like old times, even though it wasn't as old as all that. Merely one year ago he'd been allowed to come and go from the penthouse as he pleased. It wasn't until May and the accident that Morgan had come one evening to find himself locked out of Lionel's life.

The penthouse was dimly lit when Morgan stepped off the elevator. It was illuminated only by the faint glow of the streetlamps far below, and the ever present light of the city. Through the gauzy curtains, Morgan could see the rotating globe of the Daily Planet across the way; next to it, the cold, austere Luthor Corp building, twin towers that dictated much of his and Lionel's life.

Soul searing opera sounded from the back room. Morgan grimaced as he walked towards it; he hated opera, both for the music and for what it meant when Lionel listened to it. It was never a good sign when Lionel hid himself away in the fine arts.

"Lionel?" Morgan called as he made his way through the penthouse. The penthouse had always belonged to them in a way the mansion Lionel kept at the outskirts of Metropolis had belonged to Lionel and Lillian. Although Morgan kept his own penthouse, this one was where he and Lionel came together. Their were touches of them both there, and a place where Morgan felt completely comfortable.

There had been times, after Lillian's death, where Lionel had asked Morgan to visit him at the mansion. Morgan had never decided if Lionel did it for convenience to himself, or merely to put Morgan off his guard. After all, Morgan had always hated the mansion. The shadow of Lillian had hung everywhere, and while Morgan had never viewed her as his rival, it still stung. For years, Lionel had gone home to her every night. Even when their marriage bed had been cold, it was still something comfortable and permanent he'd had--a family, an image, a wife. While Morgan hated to be dramatic or sentimental, it was more than he had. Yes, it'd been by Morgan's choice, but the sting was still there.

Even after her death, Lillian was still in every wall, every hanging, and every room. She looked out of Lex's eyes, which was one reason he never could stand the sight of the boy.

The penthouse, though, the penthouse was theirs.

He stopped in the doorway to Lionel's bedroom and leaned against the doorframe. "Hello, Lionel."

"What the hell are you doing here?" Lionel snapped, opening his eyes.

"I decided to drop by." He raised an eyebrow as his eyes caressed Lionel's thin frame. "I was in the neighborhood."

"Right," Lionel drawled. "In the neighborhood. And you just happened to have the information necessary to bypass the security system when you decided to, out of the blue, drop by. What a happy coincidence."

"I thought so." He crossed the room to Lionel's bed. "I'm glad to see you." He bent down and kissed Lionel gently.

"Ah, a greeting with a kiss." His lips twisted. "Either you're here to seduce me or betray me."

Morgan raised his eyebrow as he sat on the edge of the bed. "Are you in need of seduction?"

"No more than I am in need of betrayal." Lionel looked faintly amused. "I take it my ever so trustworthy assistant has been busy the past few days. It's no mean feat to track you on such short notice. I've only been in town for two days."

"I was waiting for the call. I have been trying to see you for quite some time now. You've been distressingly impossibly to get in contact with since June, even for me. All my calls and messages have been unanswered."

A faintly bitter smile touched Lionel's lips. "I'm very sorry. I must not have seen any of your messages."

"They were voice messages. On your private phone. Even if Dominic heard them, I asked specifically for them not to be deleted until you heard them."

"How considerate."

"Oh, stop it, Lionel," Morgan said harshly. "Self-pity does not become you." Then he shook his head and forced his voice back to a softer level. "I've been worried. I've heard from both Christina and Nell about your behavior towards them. I've heard the rumors of scorned mistresses, and ...."

"They were all compensated."

He rolled his eyes. "Ah, yes. You compensated them, and finally proved to each of them that they were never anything more than whores to begin with. Brilliant strategy, Lionel."

Lionel's jaw tightened. "That's not what happened. We parted ways. If they were upset, that's their misfortune."

"Because you would never be unclear in a situation that involves sex and the heart. Not a single, powerful man like you."

His eyebrow raised. "I was always very clear on the parameters of our relationships. If they believed I was intending more, that was all on their heads, not mine."

"Perfect logic for a man who has no emotions to be tangled."

"Don't, Morgan," Lionel said sharply. "I would hope you of all people would refrain from playing emotional games that serve no purpose. You know me well enough to be above all that."

Morgan said nothing for a moment before he conceded the fact. "I am sorry, Lionel. But I have been worried about you for months. Frantic, really, and I don't appreciate being kept in the dark for so long." He sat on the bed, leaning over Lionel's body to bring them closer together. "I've missed you. I'm worried about you. I wanted to see you. When Dominic called, I realized it was as perfect a chance as I would have."

"I don't need your pity."

"It's not my pity you have, Lionel."

He snorted. "Morgan, you sound as bad as Nell. As bad as any of them." Lionel ran his hand over his face. "They all came to see me in the hospital. Or after I was released. Every one offered to stay, to take care of me and my personal ... personal needs. As if I were some incompetent .... As if I needed .... As if I were ...." He trailed off, his jaw clenched so tight a muscle spasmed.

"As if you were disabled," Morgan finished for him.

Lionel went rigid. "Get out."

Morgan held his breath and stayed still.

"I said get out of my house, Morgan."

Instead of obeying, Morgan put his hand on Lionel's shoulder and squeezed gently. "The Lionel Luthor I know has never had a problem with looking something in the face and calling it by its name."

Lionel shook his head stiffly. "The Lionel Luthor you knew is dead. And this one had some problems with seeing things clearly these days."

Morgan kissed him again, feeling the wooden lips recoil at his touch. There was no welcome, no life, nothing to indicate to Morgan that this was what Lionel needed. And yet he knew Lionel better than anyone on earth, which was why he continued to apply gentle pressure to the unwilling mouth beneath his.

When he pulled back, he stared seriously at Lionel and said, "Your clarity of vision never came from your eyesight. Don't be boring."

"Boring? I don't think I've ever heard that term applied to me." He seemed almost pleased by the idea.

"Before, I would never have called you boring, but I too have never had a problem looking something in the face and calling it by its name." He kissed Lionel again; this time, the lips were a little more pliant. "You're boring, Lionel. Sitting in your room, in the dark, listening to opera, slowly sipping Scotch, and shutting yourself off from everything you once loved. Hiding in that Scottish castle you brought over to make your son feel as if he had a history. Incredibly romantic, isn't it, Mr. Rochester?"

A startled laugh escaped Lionel. "Luckily, there is no mad wife in the attic."

"But there is a Jane, I'm told."

Lionel laughed again. "Nell talks too much."

"Yes," Morgan agreed. "But I'm always happy to listen."

"You always were a gossip." He sighed and leaned against the headboard. "Why are you here?"

Morgan shrugged. "I missed you. Besides, when have I ever needed a reason to see you?"

Lionel shook his head. "Never, I suppose. But that doesn't mean I welcome the intrusion."

"Your son is worried about you."

He closed his eyes and swore softly under his breath. "That boy. He has some motive, you know. He never does anything without a motive."

"Neither do you. And, in this case, I have a feeling his motive is to get you to stop haunting his castle. You must be in the way." He smiled fondly. "Be grateful that he had me contacted, and did not resort to the tactics we did to remove unwanted parents."

That was the wrong thing to say, of course. Lionel stiffened and pulled away, climbing out the other side of the bed. He moved a little awkwardly, fumbling around as if he weren't quite familiar with the place which, Morgan assumed, he wasn't. He'd originally convalesced at his mansion, not here, and had since spent all his time in the castle. This was unfamiliar territory to him, and Morgan wondered if he'd chosen to stay here for the weekend deliberately to make himself feel more helpless.

"Well, Morgan, it was delightful for you to visit and dig at old memories, but I think it's time for you to leave."

"Jesus Christ, are you going to do that every time I mention it?" Morgan exploded. He rose from the bed. "We are not having this conversation, Lionel. You are not hiding behind your misplaced guilt over something that happened years ago. Especially not to get out of this conversation." He shook his head, jaw clenched. "Do you think I want to be here like this? To coddle you?"

"Then don't coddle me!"

"I won't. But, at the same time, I can't do nothing while you are in pain." He went to Lionel and put his hand around his neck. "Why are you doing this?"

Lionel pulled away, but Morgan held fast. "What is it, exactly, that I am doing?"

Instead of answering, Morgan kissed Lionel again. This time, to his surprise, he was actually kissed back, albeit roughly.

Finally, progress. Morgan placed his hands on either side of Lionel's face, tongue probing in an attempt to part the compressed lips beneath his.

Lionel bit him.

"Don't," Morgan snapped, heart leaping. "You might draw blood."

"Don't worry so much," Lionel snorted as he shoved Morgan back towards the bed. "I'm not stupid; I wouldn't bite hard enough."

He shook his head. "I don't care. You know my wishes. Don't."

He sighed and pushed Morgan until he sat on the bed. Then, very slowly and carefully, Lionel began to explore Morgan's face with his fingertips.

His stomach squeezed at the touch, heart leaping. Morgan held himself still and hardly breathed. His reaction to the intimacy of it all surprised him. It was just a touch, nothing much more, except the feeling of the well-pampered skin sliding over his flesh was almost decadent.

But the emotion that Morgan felt at the touch was disproportionate to the simplicity. And yet, it wasn't. After all, Lionel had been his first lover, and his only constant one over the years. Their feelings ran old and deep, unspoken for the most part, yet no less present. Each was the only person the other could trust without question: trust to be there, trust to protect, and trust for the occasional knife in the back. Yes, when they were together, their joining was often rough and tumultuous, but not always. Often, they were tender. No less passionate, but tender nonetheless.

But what was going on now wasn't tenderness. It wasn't a prelude to something gentle and grounding. This was a good-bye.

Swallowing hard, Morgan caught Lionel's hands and stilled them against his chest. "Don't."

"It has to be this way, Morgan," Lionel whispered hoarsely. "I can't."

"You're not dead. There is nothing wrong with you."

"I'm blind."

"A set back."

Lionel closed his eyes and shook his head. "A set back in business, yes. An unfortunate handicap that I have to compensate for. And I am compensating. But this." He pulled his hand away and ran it down Morgan's chest to his abdomen. "This I can't do."

"Can't? Do you mean physically?" The idea frightened him, but sex wasn't why he'd come. It wasn't why he'd stay with Lionel until their deaths. Sex was merely an added benefit to their relationship. That didn't matter.

Lionel hesitated before saying. "Physically I'm fine."

Thank God.

"But I can't."

But it wasn't physical, which was good. They could work on the rest. "Why can't you?"

Lionel raised his eyebrow. "You've been blindfolded before."

"Well, yes, but ..." He realized Lionel was trying to make a point and thought a moment. "I don't understand."

He swallowed hard. "I'm ... afraid of. Drowning." He swallowed again. "It's true what they say. About the other senses compensating for the loss." Lionel lifted his hand and seemed to look at through sightless eyes. "Touch seems extremely, ah, sensitized when given the chance. It's torture to submit to a massage, when all I can do is lie there, someone's hands on me. I've tried to avoid having one, but the physical therapist insists it's good for my leg."

Morgan reached up and brushed a strand from Lionel's mane away from his face. "You can't avoid sex forever. It's not in your nature."

"Just because I've never been able to avoid sex before doesn't mean I won't be able to in the future. I have a motive now." His smile was brilliantly brittle, and faded quickly. "Just go, Morgan."

"And leave you trapped?"

"How poetic." His face changed. "How melodramatic." Lionel stood perfectly still a moment, seeming to gaze into Morgan. Then he laid his hand on Morgan's cheek. "Let me go."

Ah, how the words of the past come back again. Fifteen years ago it had been he who uttered them, trying to be noble, trying to release his lover as the specter of death came to stand permanently at Morgan's shoulder.

Morgan once again engulfed Lionel's hands. "How can you expect me to do that, when you stood by me?"

Lionel's face telegraphed his memory of the occasion, and he shook his head. "This is different."

"Yes. This is blindness, a little hypersensitivity, and a long held fear of losing control. Mine was infection, rampant fear, misinformation, and the possibility--one that is still as real today as it was then--of a long, painful illness followed by an undignified death." He shook his head. "You would have been justified in leaving me. Through my stupidity, I not only risked myself, but you, your wife, perhaps even Lex. I think I most definitely risked Julian." He shook his head. "You would have had good cause to leave me. I do not."

Lionel's eyes closed. "Morgan, please. This is my choice."

"My choice would have been for you to have left me, too. I wanted to protect you. What are you protecting me from, Lionel?"

He swallowed and didn't reply.

Morgan held back a sigh and put his hand on the back of Lionel's neck. "Do you trust me?"

"More than I trust anyone else," was the cynical response.

"Then trust me in this." He thought about saying more, but anything more would be too much. Instead, he acted, tugged Lionel down with deliberate care.

Their lips met softly at first, and then again with a little more passion. Lionel even opened his mouth slightly, allowing Morgan to brush his tongue.

Lionel made a sound in his throat, which was delightful and, at the same time, a little worrying, both for the same reason. Lionel tended to be rather stoic during sex. His face might display half the passion he was feeling, but the increase in his breathing was the only indication he might be enjoying himself. A noise, while gratifying, might also mean Lionel would be stopping this very soon.

He hesitated a moment before trailing kisses over the grizzled beard down his neck. The large vein beneath the skin was pulsing gently; Morgan licked along it with the tip of his tongue, lightly tracing up and down.

Fingers tightened on his shoulders.

"Are you all right?" Morgan asked. He ran his hands down to Lionel's hips and pulled him onto the bed.

"This will go a lot more quickly if you don't ask that question," Lionel said stiffly. He lay back against the pillows.

"I'll keep that in mind." Morgan untied Lionel's dressing gown and laid it open. "Good to see you're not letting your body to go ruin," he said, caressing his muscular chest.

"I still have appearances to keep up for the public," he replied, running his fingers through Morgan's hair. "I can't look weak or as if I'm wasting away."

"It's a shame that you haven't been using this magnificent body. But at least I get to reap the benefits." He began tailing light kisses and licks down the center of Lionel's chest, nuzzling the wiry hair. He could hear Lionel's breathing pick up and heart beat faster.

Unexpectedly, a wave of nervousness rushed through Morgan. He suddenly found it hard not to hesitate before placing each kiss, and harder not to look up and gauge the reaction to everything he did. He couldn't give into Lionel's fears and insecurities about this. At the same time he was very much aware that Lionel wasn't the man he'd been before the accident. He was blind and injured and it showed. Even the few short steps he'd taken revealed the extent of the injury to his leg.

It was times like these that Morgan acknowledged that Lionel was, indeed, the stronger man. He'd had no hesitation in touching Morgan or in encouraging him back into their bed even when Morgan's doctor avoided touching him as much as he could. He'd made Morgan feel like a human again, and here was Morgan, in the position to do the same, only hesitating.

Lionel laughed deep in his throat. "I can feel you thinking," he said against Morgan's neck. He began unbuttoning Morgan's shirt, fingers strong and sure as the went about their task. With each button, his fingertips brushed against Morgan's skin beneath, sending rippling waves of warmth through his body.

Morgan smiled, slightly embarrassed. "I'm not succeeding in my task very well, am I?'

"Mmmm, we'll see." He parted Morgan's shirt and pushed him onto his back. A moment later, he began sucking along his neck and collarbone, fingers exploring his body.

Morgan's eyes fell shut as his skin pimpled. No one could turn him on as quickly as Lionel, and his response to him was dramatically different than with anyone else. It was only with Lionel that Morgan could relax and fall into the sensations.

Of course, as much as he wanted to now, for it had been a long time, that wasn't why he was here. Morgan was here for Lionel, and simply lying back and enjoying this wasn't what he should be doing.

He reached up and took Lionel's shoulders, but Lionel shook his head.

"Wait."

Confused, Morgan stopped and allowed his hands to fall back to the bed. He bit his lip as Lionel continued his exploration, fingers and lips traveling the length of his body. Nimble digits moved over his stomach and then back up his side. They traced Morgan's waistline before undoing his fly and urging his trousers off.

Morgan undressed without a word and resumed his position. His head was pillowed in softness, and he watched Lionel intently as he explored. It was a little hard to concentrate; while there was nothing overtly sexual about Lionel's actions, the underlying tone was achingly deep and, yes, precious. The unspoken part of their relationship was in full force and while Morgan knew that, when he left, neither would acknowledge it, it didn't make what was happening less real. Or that he, romantic at heart that he was, wouldn't treasure it.

Fingers danced over his limp member, causing it to stir. Morgan's heart squeezed unpleasantly, and he was about to say something when Lionel put a soothing hand on his stomach and moved on. He trailed down Morgan's legs, danced over the arches of his feet, and then stroked back up his body. Once at his neck, Lionel stroked back and forth, caressing the skin behind his ears and underneath his jaw.

"Well?" Morgan said, needing to break the silence.

Lionel's lips curved and he laid on Morgan's body.

Morgan's cock stirred again, this time hardening. He felt Lionel do the same.

"You've gained weight," Lionel said. His fingers threaded in the graying hair at the base of Morgan's neck.

"Just a few pounds." But any weight that wasn't lost was a triumph and they both knew it.

Lionel's smile grew and he kissed Morgan.

Falling into the kiss, Morgan ran his hand up Lionel's backbone. He traced each and every vertebrate with his fingertips, drawing designs.

The muscles in Lionel's back stiffened minutely. Then, as Morgan dipped his finger beneath the waistband of his pajamas and into Lionel's crease, he turned to stone.

"Do you remember the first time we were together?" Morgan asked in a low voice, realizing they needed distraction. He rolled Lionel onto his back.

"Yes," Lionel said tightly. He fisted the bedclothes as Morgan kissed across Lionel's chest, nose edging along the soft nipples underneath. "I'd had a bad night. My girlfriend suddenly decided I wasn't good enough to sleep with, so I found you and told you to suck me off."

He laughed and licked Lionel's right nipple. "Had anyone else had said those words to me, I would have killed them. But you. I'd have done anything for you."

Lionel inhaled sharply, fists clenched in Morgan's hair. "Morgan, I ..."

"Trust me." He kissed Lionel's stomach. "I knew there was a reason we should have blindfolded you before. We all could use experience not knowing what's coming."

"It's not a game anymore, Morgan."

"I know." He managed to slip Lionel's pajamas off with only a moment of resistance.

"I don't give myself over easily. It comes with not being able to trust anyone."

"You've always trusted me," Morgan said, taking Lionel's semi-rigid member in his hand. "Even when it was better not to." Firmly, using the pressure that he knew Lionel liked best, he stroked the warm flesh in his hand.

Lionel's sightless eyes fell shut, and his fists returned to the fabric beneath him. His knuckles were white as he held on, hips rising and falling almost involuntarily. A sheen of sweat shone on his brow and his mouth worked to form soundless words.

Morgan wondered what Lionel was saying, if anything. Somehow, he doubted it was nonsense; Lionel wasn't the type. Poetry seemed too sentimental, and the alphabet too mundane.

He bent over to capture Lionel's mouth. As he did, he caught a few words and laughed.

"Stock prices." What else? "How very romantic."

"It's always been an effective aphrodisiac for me," Lionel replied breathlessly. He hissed, losing control momentarily when Morgan swiped his thumb over the head.

"There," Morgan said, please with his handiwork. Lionel was now rigidly hard, his cock jutting proudly from his well-muscled body. It was a delicious sight, and it made Morgan's mouth water to look at it. "This isn't so bad, is it?"

Lionel grimaced when Morgan blew a stream of air over the head of his cock. "Wonderful," he gritted between his teeth, hips writhing slowly. "I feel as if I have an electrical current running through me."

"You flatter me."

"That wasn't a compliment."

Morgan laid out between Lionel's splayed legs, eyebrow raised. "No?"

He swallowed and said nothing.

Assuming Lionel was simply complaining in order to hear his own voice, Morgan bent over and took him into his mouth with a loud slurp.

Lionel gave a strangled cry as Morgan's head spun from the heady and long longed for taste of his lover. It was a luxury he generally didn't allow himself, tasting Lionel, but, at this point, what did it matter anyway? It'd been months since they'd been together, and he wanted the grounding of taste as well as his other senses.

"Christ," Lionel ground out, hips jerking.

"Sensitive?" Morgan asked, lips brushing the head of Lionel's cock.

"It's too much."

"It's not too much. Stop complaining."

Lionel squeezed his eyes tighter when Morgan once again swallowed him to the hilt. His hips thrust into Morgan's mouth unsteadily, with no rhythm. His breaths came in harsh gasps, fingers clenching and unclenching on the bedclothes. All in all, he looked like a man in the beginnings of passion.

Which wasn't where Morgan wanted him. He wanted a man caught up in the very essence of ecstasy.

He sucked harder, cheeks hollowing. His tongue pressed against the bottom of Lionel's member, tracing the vein pulsating beneath the skin. As he sucked, he massaged behind Lionel's sack, pressing into the perineum.

Lionel cried out as Morgan pressed in harder. His hips bucked hard, almost choking Morgan.

This was more like it.

Continuing to pleasure Lionel with his mouth, Morgan reached for his pants and dug inside his pocket. Although he assumed Lionel had not thrown away any of his supplies, he'd felt compelled to bring his own. Inside his pants pockets were a small bag of condoms and a tube of lubricant. He reached inside the bag and pulled out two condoms.

"What are you doing?" Lionel asked in alarm when Morgan pulled away and sat back on his heels.

"What do you ears tell you I'm doing?"

He swallowed hard, pale underneath his flush. "You're unwrapping a condom."

Morgan opened the cap to the lubricant feeling vaguely triumphant. As grudgingly as he might be using them, and as anxious as he was at the results, Lionel was at least acknowledging that there was more to sex than sight and touch. "What now?" he asked, opening the tube.

"Lubricant. You ..." His face suddenly twisted. "I should have known. All these years you've been waiting for this. You've been waiting for me to become helpless and infantile so you could take what you wanted whenever you wanted. It's not going to work like that, Morgan."

He frowned. "Lionel ..."

In a movement that Morgan should have been anticipating, Lionel sat up, took him by the wrists, and shoved him onto the bed.

He fell with a whoosh of air escaping at the force. Lionel might be blind and injured, but he was still Lionel. Still strong and capable of anything.

Morgan groaned suddenly as fingers broached him, semi-slick from a hasty covering.

"Did you think you were finally going to get to fuck me, Morgan? Huh? Did you finally realize that the few times I bottomed for you in the past were nothing more than pity fucks, and so you decided to get back at me?"

He writhed on the comforter as two more fingers slid in, twisting and fucking him. It burned slightly from not being fully coated, but Morgan didn't care. He was in agony, in ecstasy, fire spreading out from his groin in a quickly mounting intensity.

"I expected better of you," Lionel said.

Morgan felt Lionel's free hand fumbling on the covers, trying to find the condoms. Eyes glazed, he looked frantically on the bed.

"They're next to you. On your right."

Lionel found them and tossed one onto Morgan's stomach. Then, clumsily, he fumbled at his.

"Do you want ..."

"No," was the biting reply. He finally managed to rip his open and extract it.

Morgan quickly put on his own condom and propped himself up to watch Lionel. He was afraid to move too much for fear Lionel might assume he was moving in to help and get even angrier than he was. Or, worse, ask him to leave again. Only, this time, Morgan might listen; if he couldn't allow Lionel do his own tasks, he was basically saying that he felt Lionel was incapable, and that wasn't what Morgan wanted at all.

Lionel's brow was furrowed, face dark as he fumbled slightly, trying to roll the condom on. It was obviously a lot harder without sight than Morgan would have thought, although the added tension he was putting on himself couldn't be helping. Well. Tension and arousal.

Morgan stayed silent and waited, forcing himself to be still. And, finally, his patience paid off.

"Well?" Lionel asked sharply when it was on.

He glanced at it and nodded. "It's fine."

"Good." Then Lionel grabbed Morgan's legs, and jerked them over his shoulders.

Morgan fell to the bed, shifting slightly so his hips were raised. He was about to say something when, without warning, Lionel drove into him.

He groaned loudly as the pain. It felt as if he were being split apart since Lionel's preparation hadn't been enough. It'd been months, after all, nearly a year.

"Stop," he managed, teeth clenched.

Immediately, Lionel stilled.

Morgan took a few gasping breaths and tried to relax. The fire that had raced up his belly to his head made his eyes water, but was also lessening in intensity.

"Are you all right?" Lionel asked.

"Yes." Then, as the stillness became unbearable, he ordered, "Move."

Lionel complied most willingly. He pulled out minutely and began to thrust in a steady rhythm that had both men gasping. The pain faded as Lionel pushed into Morgan, opening him steadily. Pleasure began weave slowly through him, making his limbs light. It felt wonderful. Lionel had lost none of his touch. He drove into Morgan, hitting his prostate unerringly.

Stars burst red behind his eyelids with each thrust, and Morgan squeezed around Lionel, eliciting moans. They moved into each other roughly, each striving for their own pleasure as their orgasms built, moving slowly upward, blood rising, nerves tingling in anticipation, hearts pounding. The air was filled with the sound of their flesh slapping into each other, their heavy pants, the slight squeaking of the mattress.

Morgan was acutely aware of the man inside him, of the member driving into him. He felt each jolt, each pull, bones aching from the impact. His blood sizzled as Lionel increased his tempo, his grip on Morgan's hips becoming tighter.

Suddenly, Lionel stilled. His body stiffened, fingers biting into Morgan's hips. A muffled moan sounded in his throat, and then he came, body shaking hard.

Even though he was still aching hard, Morgan went limp with relief. He hadn't realized how tense he'd been, how nervous about this. But he'd done it, at least the first step. It was ...

"Oh," he grunted as Lionel tugged on his cock. Oh, God, apparently Lionel had lost none of the generosity in bed that was so characteristic of him. He caressed and stroked Morgan higher and higher, until his stomach clenched and veins exploded within him.

Morgan's back arched off the bed, hips driving down onto Lionel's soft member still buried inside him. He caught his bottom lip between his upper teeth, holding back a growl. It still sounded in his throat, twisting his face as he came.

Lionel kissed down his chest and ended with a hard bite that Morgan knew was going to leave a bruise on his upper stomach. The pain sent rippled shockwaves through him and he shivered in delight.

"Lovely," Lionel muttered, biting him again. Then he pulled out slowly, sighing as he did as if sorry to be parted.

It was the same for Morgan. It'd been too long, and Lionel carried so much pain. Foolishly and much too sentimentally, Morgan wished they could remain as they were for just a little longer, joined and together, disability and illness forgotten in the passion of being one.

But they couldn't, and it was stupid to wish for. They weren't young men anymore, and romantic fancies, had they ever possessed any, weren't part of their lives.

Lionel kissed him gently, and sat up, moving to the other side of the bed. He was giving Morgan privacy, he knew. It was another thing about Lionel that he was grateful for: the patient understanding he gave to Morgan so willingly. Even after all these years, and even with all the correct information, Morgan was still so phobic about body fluids, he refused to be in the same room as his lover when the condom came off.

Silently, Morgan rose and went to the bathroom. The condom was very carefully removed, tied, and wrapped in toilet paper before placed in the trashcan. There was still a small part of him that wished he could burn it, even though he knew how ... ineffective, messy, and disgusting doing so was.

Naked, Morgan pulled a washcloth from the shelf. He washed himself off carefully, rinsed, repeated and then did it all again. It was a ritual of sorts, one he completed every time he had sex, no matter whom he slept with. It calmed and settled him, which was something he needed tonight more than any other night. He was glad of what had happened, but he was nervous about the aftermath.

With a final swipe, Morgan rinsed out the washcloth and set it aside. Then he took another for Lionel and returned to the bedroom.

"Thank you," Lionel said as he took the cloth. He cleaned himself and tossed the rag on the floor. Then he held out his hand.

Morgan took it and was pulled to the bed. Lionel traced his face with whispering fingers before kissing him deeply.

It was, Morgan knew, a thank you. And, very possibly, a dismissal. When they broke apart, Morgan pulled away and reached for his underwear, tense and ready for dismissal.

"How do you feel?" he asked, unsure how to phrase his question.

Lionel thought about it a moment. "I feel ... I feel as if you maybe were a little nervous."

That wasn't what he'd been expecting. "Oh?"

"Yes." His lips curved. "I expected to be drowned in sensation. I wasn't. I kept fighting to the top."

Morgan rolled his eyes and stretched out next to his finicky lover. "I'm very sorry. Next time, I will be sure to drown you. Perhaps, though, it would be easier if you didn't fight me."

Lionel frowned. "Perhaps. But what would be the fun in that?"

"Lionel."

He sighed. "It wasn't as bad as I'd anticipated. I would not, however, be willing to trust anyone else. I'm just .... I'm not ready, Morgan."

He pet Lionel's stomach soothingly. "Nor do I expect you to be. I'm not asking you to have sex with people, Lionel, just ... be among them. Socially."

"I don't like being seen as weak."

"Then don't be seen as weak," Morgan said sharply. "Be seen as exactly who you are: Lionel Luthor. For Christ's sake, you hold half the town by their balls, and the rest ... well, they just don't know you have them yet. What does it matter if you're blind or not?"

He sighed. "I can't see the looks on their faces when I enter a room."

"Then make them think you can."

Lionel's face changed.

Morgan smiled. "You know how disconcerting you can be. And think how much fun it would be to make people think you might, just might, be able to see them. To stand in the presence of a blind man so powerful, he seems to read their very souls with sightless eyes."

He looked thoughtful as he leaned back against his pillow. One hand began to idly stroke through Morgan's hair. "It would be ... a powerful tool," he said slowly. "It would take practice, but, then, I have Lex and Clark to practice on. In fact, Clark needs to be reminded of exactly who I am."

"So you continue to torment the Kent boy?"

"It's my only joy in life, Morgan," Lionel said wistfully. Then he smiled. "Truthfully, it's not as fun without being able to see the beautiful flush on his cheeks, or the way his eyes flash." He sighed. "I wish you could see him."

"Considering I can't come to Smallville for fear of the press, I'll have to wait until he comes to Metropolis."

"He should be here in a few weeks. He and my son are going to the opera."

Morgan stretched and yawned. "Then I'll be sure to try and catch a glimpse. If he's as beautiful as you say, I might be tempted by him, though."

"Seduce away, old friend, just be as cautious as you are with me. I can't risk my son."

"I understand." He yawned again. "Perhaps I should go?"

"Stay. I may have use for you yet."

He nodded and sat up so he could put on his underwear. Then he turned, a question niggling in the back of his mind. "Lionel, while we were having sex, why did you think I ..."

"Morgan," Lionel interrupted. Then he hesitated before saying, "It was ... a little much. Anger, no matter how affected, made it easier to get through."

"But not every time."

He smiled. "No. No, not every time. In fact, next time, I'll be ready to drown."

Morgan leaned in and kissed Lionel lovingly. "Then I promise that a deluge shall come and sweep you away."

Lionel's fingers threaded in Morgan's hair and he held him inches away from his face. "I expect nothing less."