Page 27

Albion twisted Tyrillacht, shattering the end of Abernathy’s bladed arm. He lunged forward into the hulking creature’s human body with a crack that sent Abernathy flying back across the lot. As the mechanical horror struggled to get himself upright, Albion paced toward him in familiar, predatory strides, holding Morgan’s sword aloft. Those watching the clash took a step forward, intending to help, but Albion shot them a glance that clearly meant they were to stay put.

“Thou shalt return what thou hast stolen.” His eyes returned to Abernathy.

Abernathy grunted, rising to face the dyanima. He chuckled menacingly. “Fuck you, Pendragon scum.”

Albion’s eyes blazed, and he hurtled forward through the space in an instant. Abernathy raised both arms in front of him, catching the blow as the runes on his appendages flared. The skewers on his back lanced downward. Albion propelled himself backward, throwing a charged thrust through his blade in ultramarine light.

The attack hit Abernathy directly in the glowing blue core. The runes surrounding the sphere pulsed in response, and Abernathy cackled madly. “You think me foolish enough to contain something so precious behind simple glass? This is some of Esotech’s finest amorphous material, stronger than diamond and reinforced with my power! He’s mine!”

Albion lunged again, throwing three thrusts at the core. Abernathy managed to block two of them, but the third landed, leaving a scratch. Abernathy raced at Albion with a growl, tendrils striking the cement ahead of his charge like a demolition vehicle gone rogue, tearing up the ground in his path. Albion danced around the onslaught, angling Tyrillacht upward to rend the tendrils from Abernathy’s back in a burst of indigo.

The doctor howled in anger and twisted back toward him, attempting to pummel Albion with his cannon. He screamed, thrashing, and rending the ground apart around them. Albion dodged blow after blow, remaining focused on the arms as he sought an opening to strike the core again.

Abernathy threw a raging kick, boosted by the jets at the back of his legs. He caught Albion in the stomach, sending him soaring into a heap of scattered shipping containers, straight through the metal surface. Abernathy aimed his cannon with a laugh, glowing bright as it primed once again.

Daphne roared, tearing across the rubble, calling her guisarme back to her in a flash of gold. The others cried out from behind and flares of magic filled the air. Abernathy faltered at the sound of their approach, and with a crash of his limbs he whirled the charged cannon on them.

Albion flew from the wreckage, spiraling through the air to place himself between Abernathy and his would-be victims. The cannon’s assault and Albion’s shield collided, causing dust and chaos to fill the lot once more. The shield shattered, throwing the dyanima backward into the witches and knights.

“Running out of steam already?” Abernathy taunted, “I thought you were going to show me power!”

Daphne reached out to Albion. She recoiled with a hiss, finding his skin near scalding. Albion lunged forward to reengage without so much as a glance behind him.

“What’s happening to him? He’s... burning up.” Daphne stood, heaving.

“I don’t know.” Theresa shook her head. “Something isn’t right.”

“He’s desperate,” Frey said from behind.

Shane spoke, fixated on the battle ahead as Albion threw flurries of attacks at the core, “He’s trying to break Aaron out. That’ll stop Abernathy, right?”

“It should limit his abilities to control his rune-tech,” Theresa said, “It would make him vulnerable.”

“It’s more than that.” Frey’s face contorted under the conflicting emotions. “He wants justice, he demands it, but this is... longing.”

Daphne stared out at Albion’s struggle, trying to understand. He was expending everything he had fixating on the core. It clearly wasn’t a weak point. It wasn’t as if Aaron could reclaim his body, certainly not while Albion remained. Even if there were a way, his soul wouldn’t be whole. He would never be Aaron again.

“Longing... he wants something.” A lesson from weeks past came rushing back to her. “Theresa, you said that these were beings completely separate from the souls that created them, right? They make their own decisions?”

“Correct,” she said, eyes fixed on the dyanima, “At least, in theory. This is the first in history that didn’t end in total failure.”

“Shane!” Daphne turned back. “What was it Morgan said about forging kingmakers?”

Shane cocked his head, glancing away in thought. “Oh! Um... the thing about the materials! They have to be in balance, right? Any rhinoceros!”

“Ene eseras!” she gasped.

“That’s what I said,” Shane grumbled.

“The law of sentience,” Theresa spoke quietly, “Of course. He pulled Arthur out of time, just like he did the knights! They’re out of balance!”

“So, we get Aaron back,” Gwen said, eyes locked on the shining core.

Theresa turned to her with a sad look. “If we break that core all it’s going to do is release him. He’ll fade away… as if he had died.”

They stood in silent defeat, watching the gale of attacks as Albion fought furiously to claim his other half.

“No.” Shane whipped out his wrist blades, bolting toward the fight. “He won’t!”

Daphne shot a bewildered look at his back before charging after him. “Everyone! Help Albion! Break that core!”

Abernathy was unrelenting. Albion was slowing down. The core was covered in scratches from hundreds of blows, still intact. Daphne leapt at an unwary Abernathy while he fixated on Albion. Her guisarme elongated, adding another scratch to the glowing, blue sphere. Abernathy whipped toward her with a downward cleave from his blade. She dodged to the side, and Albion used the opening to strike the core again.

Shane leapt from the ground, sinking his blades into Abernathy’s back between the remnants of the tendrils. The clanking beast reeled in pain, exposing his chest and taking a flurry of blows to the prison where Aaron’s soul was locked away. He growled furiously and sent a pulse from the core, knocking Shane to the ground with a sickening crunch.

“Shane!” Daphne cried out, bracing herself against the blast as the snap of bone split the air.

Abernathy turned on Shane where he lay clutching his arm, raising his broken blade. A red band snapped around the metal limb as Theresa held the attack at bay with her whip. Albion knelt panting on the ground beside her, beads of sweat rolling down his face. Abernathy laughed madly as he turned his cannon on them. Daphne jumped again, attempting to distract him, but a hard kick to her side sent her rolling to the ground a few paces from Shane.

The hum of the cannon echoed in their ears. Albion and Theresa were too close. Even if they ran, they would still be hit. Albion fought to stand, the starlight in his eyes burning out. Theresa held tight to the bladed arm, refusing to let the man harm Daphne and Shane. Abernathy howled with laughter.

“HEY, FRANKENFUCK!”Gwen roared from behind, loosing an arrow directly into the barrel of the charged cannon. Her face broke into a wicked grin. “Bet you really prefer the whore now.”

The cannon exploded, engulfing Abernathy in flames. He screamed bloody murder, his arm now a twisted heap of metal. From the ground, Albion’s eyes shined bright once more at the burning mass. Beneath the flames, in the swirling blue surface on Abernathy’s chest, gleamed a small crack.

Albion lunged, forcing everything into his thrust. The hit landed. The crack spread. Abernathy screeched, sending another shockwave from the core, flailing his mangled cannon. Albion took the blow to his chest, soaring away and colliding into the cement barricade with a sharp snap that sent rubble flying. He lay struggling as the debris settled, the light in his eyes flickering out.

“I’VE KILLED YOU TWICE ALREADY, PENDRAGON!” Abernathy roared, his voice a disgusting wail, “I CAN DO IT AGAIN!” The flames on his grotesque figure died out, revealing a charred ruin as he stalked toward Albion’s ragged figure. He lifted his leg with a wicked cackle, bringing it down with an earth-shaking crunch. The dyanima lay shaking and covered in blood as the horror above taunted, “Sit still and watch me kill these useless fools!”

The sun rose behind Abernathy as he clanked away, scanning the wreckage. Their small army lay in ruins. Daphne held Shane close as he bled where a sharp bone protruded from his forearm. Theresa’s forehead was dripping crimson as she fought to stay upright. Gwen tended to Lancelot where he lay unconscious. The remaining Camelot infantry, along with Percival and Gawain were battered and torn. The remaining coven members sheltered at the rear, drained of magic.

As Abernathy stomped across the lot, Frey rose to their feet, and the hideous figure whirled around.

Shane pulled away from Daphne with a groan.

“Don’t! You’ll get yourself killed!” Daphne begged him.

“Aww.” Shane shot her a goofy smile. “Look at you, worried about little old me.” He fondled something on his belt with his undamaged arm as he glanced at Frey, then at Albion’s broken form, before turning back to Daphne. “Trust me?”

“Not a chance,” she rasped, a smile hiding behind frightened eyes.

Shane chuckled, tore his eyes away from her, and raced toward Abernathy.

“A volunteer!”Abernathy reached Frey with a wicked grin on charcoal lips.“You would have been better off if you’d stayed chained to that bed. How would you like to die, little fairy? I could run you through, cut you to pieces, or smash you into a pulp.” He raised the remains of his cannon. “What do you think?”

“I think you should’ve gone with a pair of metal eyes,” Frey said, giggling, “It would’ve really brought the whole look together, you ass waffle!”

Before Abernathy could even make sense of the words, two small somethings glittered in front of his face. The next second, he was screeching as Frey’s enchanted needles stabbed away, making a gory mess. He thrashed on the spot, crying out in pain.

Shane bolted around from behind, shooting Frey a wink. He dove, hurtling through the air as he raised an arm, and with one thought in his mind, he pulled back the hammer of Morgan’s revolver.

A shot split the air, a single hex bullet sailed across the way—and the swirling, blue sphere in Abernathy’s chest split wide.

The core flared. The glass began to screech, pressure building from the inside. Blue light spilled through the growing fissures, creeping across the surface.

The sphere shattered.

Abernathy roared as brilliant, cobalt blue exploded from his torso. The light spiraled across the devastated battlefield, whirling past the witches and knights—straight to Aaron’s body.

Power released with the force of a bomb, churning across the lot to enshroud the space in a mass of shimmering, deep blue. Abernathy whirled around, unable to see, his face covered in blood and panic as starlit eyes gleamed from within the swell.

“The judgement is cast.”

Abernathy was lifted from the ground, floating in midair while he screamed, “NO! I WON’T GO BACK!”

Albion bounded from the storm of magic, Tyrillacht shining in his hand. The ruined tech fused to Abernathy spread taut through the air as if pulled by invisible chains.

A single, familiar voice roared from Aaron’s body as the blade slashed upward across Abernathy’s left shoulder, severing the wrecked cannon, “This is for Garrett!”

The man howled as the rune-tech fell to the ground.

“For all those lost to your madness!” the second voice spoke alone, and the broken blade appendage came clattering down.

“FUCK YOU, PENDRAGON! YOU AND YOUR FILTHY WITCH!” Abernathy flailed against the unseen restraints, blood pouring from his wounds.

“This one’s for Aaron!” the first voice yelled as Albion lunged again, cleaving away Abernathy’s left leg.

“And for my Morgan!” the second voice roared, severing the last of the rune-tech from the torso with a crash.

Abernathy screeched in agony, spit flying from his sad form as he hung suspended and helpless. Albion stood directly in front of him, Aaron’s tattered clothing and hair fluttering in the swell, eyes bright enough to sear flesh.

“THE VOID TAKE YOU BOTH! DAMN YOU! DAMN ALL OF YOU!” Abernathy squealed in rage.

Albion released Tyrillacht in a flash of light. “And this...” both voices spoke in unison once again. With another flash, a different blade—a hilt of gold and inlaid sapphires—filled his grip. “This is for Camelot, you traitorous letch.”

Albion leapt forward, thrusting Caliburn ahead with a roar. Abernathy screamed like the hells themselves. The blade sank straight through his face, out the back of his skull, and he went silent. The charred flesh began to break away, light shining from beneath. The cracks spread down his burnt flesh and across his ragged torso.

What remained of Abernathy burst.

Relief washed across the lot. The storm quelled. Dust settled in sparkling flashes of gold. The witches and knights stared on in amazement through the sunlit particles that filled the air.

Where Albion’s final blow had struck, shoulder to shoulder, one hand on Caliburn each as the blade glistened in the rising sun—stood Aaron and Morgan.

Caliburn clattered to the ground, and with a deep inhale, Morgan stumbled backward.

“Whoa!” Aaron caught him around his back in a swift motion. He lowered them to the ground, carefully resting Morgan’s head in his lap. “Easy, there.”

Morgan stared up at him, eyes glittering in the dawn. “Hi.”

“Hey there, beautiful,” Aaron choked, his blue gaze returning Morgan’s silver sparkle, “Don’t you ever go shredding yourself like that again.”

“You are not the boss of me, Aaron Jones.” Morgan grinned.

Aaron gave him a severe glare, jabbing a thumb to his own chest. “King.”

“Ugh,” Morgan groaned through a smile before reaching up to cradle Aaron’s cheek, “Are you okay?”

Aaron beamed down at him, pressing into the touch. “Best day of my life.”

“And-” He was unsure how to put the question. “Aaron? Or Arthur?”

“Yes,” Aaron shot back, making them both chuckle, “It worked, fy cariad. Two halves of one whole… and completely yours.”

He jostled himself upright as Aaron leaned down. “Tell me now?”

A sweet, knowing smile tugged at the corners of Aaron’s lips. “I love you, Morgan le Fay.”

Morgan’s soft breath caressed Aaron’s face. “And I love you... my king.”

Their lips met halfway. The warm, tender kiss pulled them back to reality and sent them flying into the stratosphere. The moment became real. They had done it. They had made it back, against all odds, to each other’s arms.

Their friends approached cautiously, both in disbelief and not wanting to intrude.

“Is it always like this with them?” Shane called over with a groan, “They start flirting and time just kind of... stops?”

“It’s probably Morgan’s doing,” Frey giggled, “Some nefarious spell so they can keep kissing.”

Morgan and Aaron laughed into the kiss.

“You get used to it.” Gwen fawned at them from a few paces away.

Lancelot was back on his feet behind her, shaking his head while mouthing the words, “You don’t.”

Then they were attacked—by a furious witch with long flowing braids and love hidden beneath her rage. “You- stupid- stupid boys!” Daphne punched each of them repeatedly as she yelled.

“Damn. Assaulting royalty, Daph.” Aaron winced, rubbing his shoulder. “Shall we have her drawn and quartered, dearest?”

“Nah. She’s entitled to her wrath.” Morgan shrugged, his eyes full of nothing but love for his dear friend. “A day in the stocks will do.”

Daphne slumped to the ground, collapsing on top of him. “I thought...I thought you were gone.”

Morgan’s gut clenched as he kissed her forehead, wiping a fallen tear away. “I was. I’msosorry, Daph. I completely lost control. It won’t happen again, I promise. I won’t leave you. Any of you.” He glanced around to meet the eyes of his coven and friends.

Daphne buried her face in his chest. Frey danced near to sling themself over Aaron’s shoulders. Gwen and a slightly apprehensive Lancelot dove in as well. Percival and Gawain drew close, laughing at the sight of them. Shane stood off to the side, clutching his battered arm and looking on awkwardly.

Morgan caught his eye before lifting a finger at his broken arm. The bone snapped back into place, and the damage faded with a glitter of violet. “Get in here already.”

Shane grinned and promptly plopped on top, making them all groan under the added weight. A slight jostle then went through the pile of warm, fuzzy feelings that was House Fell, followed by an audible purr.

“Um. There’s a catchy on me,” Shane said.

“Kaht shee,”Morgan corrected him again with a chuckle.

“I wondered where she’d gone,” Theresa called over, a brilliant smile on her face at the sight of them, “Did you happen to make a pact with her, Morgan?”

Morgan craned his neck to see her. “I didn’t even know what she was.”

Theresa laughed. “Oh, come now, you know the fae better than I. All it would have taken is a small promise of some sort for her to bind herself to you.”

“I-” Morgan thought back to when he first encountered Glimmer on the very night he arrived in Etna. She had trotted out of an alley and rubbed against his legs with a sweet meow. “I may have said something about treats and snuggles and taking care of her until the day I die.”

They all roared with laughter as Glimmer stretched out on Shane’s back, making herself cozy and basking in the sunlight. A raven cawed from atop the building, and Morgan turned toward the sound as it flew off into the wastes.

Everyone eventually retreated, tending to the wounded and gathering their fallen. Morgan stole another kiss from Aaron before clambering to his feet to retrieve Caliburn from the ground. “Hey, Ser Oliveron.” He tossed the sword to Aaron with a grin. “Epic loot!”

“Definitely legendary class, babe.” Aaron caught it, laughing. He turned the sword over in his hands, both familiar and strange to him. “I honestly didn’t think it would make it back with us.”

Morgan crossed his arms with a raised brow. “You’re the one that brought it! All that bluster about it showing up at the right time!”

“I was just being... you know... encouraging!” Aaron said, chuckling, “How was I supposed to know we’d both wind up in my body and create a being with the power to actually bring it here?”

Morgan laughed heartily, returning to his side. He rested his head on his lover’s shoulder with a weary sigh as Aaron looked the sword over in his hands. The inlaid sapphire at the guard glittered, only for the faintest moment—and Morgan swore the color took a deeper hue in the sunlight.

Theresa swore everyone to secrecy until she decided how to address the Council with the events of the night, and any footage captured by their communication implants was erased. Morgan and Aaron made a round amongst the witches, expressing their thanks and condolences. The Jenkins brothers seemed to be in shock, giving curt responses and stoic smiles as Morgan’s words seemed incapable of reaching them. He gave them his contact information, offering to help in any way he was able before leaving them be.

A young witch named Abby then approached them from House Gray, explaining that she and Garrett had been taken into the coven at the same time. She told them how he had struggled with both his sexuality and his magic in the religious home they had been raised in before being accepted into the OC at fourteen years old.

“We went to the ECPD once, after Garrett was beaten by the awful woman that ran the home for kissing another boy on the cheek,” Abby said, “They started looking into the matter, but when his record showed him as a registered witch… I think seeing the two of you together, it must’ve given him a bit of hope that he needed.”

Aaron reached out to grip her arm in comfort. “He gave us hope too, Abby. I’m sorry we never got the chance to know him, but… we’ll never forget him.”

“Never,” Morgan echoed at his side, exhausted by the many emotions the past day had squeezed from his heart. He couldn’t push down this awful feeling. People had died on their accounts, and nothing they could say or do would fix that. “If you need anything, any of you, don’t hesitate to ask, alright?”

Abby nodded weakly. She turned, about to leave before looking back. “Garrett and I chose to be here,” she called to them with a sad smile, “He never did watch his footing in training. Please dont blame yourselves.”

“Easier said than done...” Morgan muttered, hanging his head as they walked away, “I led them here.”

“Hey.” Aaron took both of his shoulders, peering into his soul. “You and I both know how bad things would have gotten if Abernathy went unchecked. The whole city would’ve been in danger. The Council had to act, Morgan. We just happened to be at the center.”

Morgan nodded defeatedly, both from guilt and from the way his boyfriend slightly knocked it out of him. Aaron pulled him into a tight embrace, wrapping his arms around his waist beneath his jacket, and Morgan buried his face in his neck.

“I want to protect them all too, sweetheart,” Aaron said, gripping the back of Morgan’s neck, “But not being able to stop someone else’s evil doesn’t make you responsible for it. You taught me that, remember? All those times I couldn’t step in to stop my father, you remember what you said?”

“All you can do is everything within your power,” Morgan said, moving his head so that his soft words weren’t muffled, thinking back on times he’d talked Arthur down after furious encounters with Uther, “Aaron... you felt what I did, didn’t you? From Abernathy? You heard the things he said.”

Aaron tensed beneath him. “I felt it. Rather, I felt what Albion did. I wasn’t sure, not until what he said right at the end there, but... how could that petty little bitch have possessed Abernathy?”

Morgan shook his head against Aaron’s shoulder. “I don’t know. He was always conniving his way into more power any way he could find it. If Abernathy was researching soul theories-”

“The accident,” Aaron interrupted, “The one Ellington was so tight-lipped about.”

“Mhm,” Morgan agreed, “Agravaine probably hitched a ride in his head the first chance he got. That’s why he went mad. Why Esotech sacked him.”

“Do we tell the others? Gawain at least?”

Morgan sighed. “Not yet. We will... We have to, but let’s give them some time to adjust. Then we’ll tell them that the turncoat went and possessed someone just to get his revenge.”

Aaron nodded. He pulled away, glancing down to their feet. “What’s that?”

Morgan quirked his brow, following Aaron’s gaze to find that the single tarot card had fallen from his jacket. “Oh. I keep forgetting about that thing. A junk witch slapped it into my hand while I was on my way to find you in the ED.”

“The Lovers?” Aaron chuckled. “Fitting.”

Morgan laughed as he knelt to retrieve it from the ground, and as his fingertips touched the card, it turned to dust, blowing away into the wastes.

House Fell, Aaron, Gwen, Lancelot, Percival, and Gawain, along with four soldiers that had survived the battle, arrived back at the Manor to a veritable feast of breakfast foods waiting for them in the kitchen. The knights and soldiers rushed in, filling their plates. Percival contorted his face at a cup of coffee that Gawain then downed in two gulps. Frey stood against a wall discussing plans for new wardrobes for everyone with Gwen and Lancelot. Shane and Daphne lounged on the sofa recounting their battle tactics, trying to one up the other with their stories as they scarfed down donuts.

Those Morgan had, albeit unintentionally, allowed to cross over from the past had agreed that until they understood more about the rifts, how he had opened them, and if there was a safe way to do so again, that they would do their best to adjust to life in Etna. They had just left the battle that effectively ended the reign of the only king they wished to serve. And as their king’s beloved and their second in command, none of them wanted Morgan putting himself in danger to return them to a land bereft of their leaders.

Aaron held Morgan from behind, chin tucked into his shoulder as they stood off to the side, looking out over their small kingdom together as their friends, their family, laughed and ate with tired smiles on their faces.

“I think we’re well on our way, baby,”Morgan pressed the thought into Aaron’s mind.

Aaron’s eyes bulged, having all but forgotten their newfound ability. “To what, fy cariad?”

He leaned back to kiss his cheek. “Changing the story.”

Aaron beamed, nestling their heads together. He then shared some very unspeakable thoughts with Morgan, causing his blood to heat in his veins. Morgan glanced around, deciding that food could wait. He was famished for something else entirely as he took Aaron’s hand, leading him to the bedroom.

“You guys that tired?” Shane shouted after them with a mocking tone.

“Make sure you close the door this time!” Daphne yelled down the hall.

The donuts they held to their mouths then exploded, covering their faces in cream and fruit filling, and they laughed hysterically.

Morgan’s lips locked onto Aaron’s the moment the door closed. He wrestled with Aaron’s tattered button-down in an urgent need to be rid of the last thing keeping them apart. He tore it away with a growl. Strong hands slid up his back, lifting his shirt over his head. He gripped the back of Aaron’s neck to pull him close. Those soft lips ran down his throat, taking him apart as they trailed over his collar bone and down his chest. His eyes glittered violet.

Aaron gasped as his belt came undone, sailing across the room. He worked his fingers beneath the waistband of Morgan’s jeans. He gripped Morgan’s ass in both hands, coaxing a pleading moan from him with every touch. Aaron hooked his thumbs around the waistband. Morgan’s pants went flying. Aaron pulled away with a grin, gave Morgan’s chest a gentle shove, and sent him backward onto the bed.

“Gods, I missed that look in your eyes,”Morgan sang into Aaron’s head.

Aaron’s grin stretched. “You know... the Aaron in me remembers all those filthy little euphemisms you had to tease me with.”

Morgan snickered, giving him a smirk to match. “I just couldn’t get enough of the way you blushed for me.”

“Mhm.”Aaron leaned over him, dropping his hands to the bed on either side of his head, getting right in his face.“Well, the Arthur in me gets to decide your punishment.”

Morgan bit his lip innocently, and in response Aaron dipped down, devouring his mouth.

“As long as it ends with both of them in me.” Morgan chuckled.

With that, Aaron’s pupils blew wide, and he found many, many ways to make Morgan pay for his wickedness. They spent the rest of the day tangled up in one another. Their friends would understand their absence. They had seventeen hundred years to make up for, after all.

Night settled over the city, and moonlight trickled in through the window of Morgan’s room. His head rested against the slow rise and fall of Aaron’s bare chest, a soft dusting of hair tickling the skin of his cheek. Once he would have said he had never felt this safe or this loved before, but the certainty of his king’s arms had been waiting to hold him again, and he had forever been this loved.

“You awake, babe?” Aaron’s breath ruffled his hair.

“Mhm,” Morgan hummed against his skin.

Aaron kissed the top of his head, drawing circles along the small of his back with his fingertips. “Are you hungry? We haven’t eaten all day.”

“Not really.” Morgan’s stomach growled, calling his bluff and making Aaron’s chest shake beneath his cheek. “Okay, maybe. I’ll go get us something. If the others left anything in the kitchen, that is.”

He pried himself away, going in for a quick kiss, and he froze.

“Aaron...” He stared, his jaw dropping. “Your eyes... they’re...”

The sleepy look on Aaron’s face vanished instantly as he sat upright. “Glowing? Because yours are brighter than ever right now!”

“What? I’m not... using any magic.”

“Well, mine don’t glow!”

Morgan leaned closer, their alarmed breaths filling the small space between their faces as he gazed deep into the radiant blue light of Aaron’s irises. Mostly blue, he noticed. Right along the pupils where the light stopped, there was- “Violet... Aaron, there’s violet there too! Right in the middle!”

Aaron choked a short breath in surprise, wrapping a hand around the back of Morgan’s head as he looked deeper into his eyes. “I... I see blue in yours. On the outer edges. It’s faint, but... it’s there.”

Morgan released an airy laugh as the gaze between them shifted from shock to deepest desire once more, and just like that, food was forgotten again as their lips closed the distance.