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Mirage

The sterile environment began to fade away, leaving the two of them in their own made-up world, the one that held and protected their forbidden emotions of empathy and compassion.

Grace didn’t require anesthesia or numbing agents, but Mirage still tended to him with gentleness as if he were handling something precious.

“The Lion was methodical with this one,” Mirage said as he went through the continuous, mindless motions of pulling Grace’s skin together and then squeezing the stapler handle. “He stopped just before rupturing your small bowel or nicking a major blood vessel.”

Grace’s tensed abdomen was his only reaction.

“I was doing some research while in the air.” Mirage couldn’t change the somberness in his tone. “I wanted to know exactly what kind of masters we just encountered.”

The air was thick and oppressive between them, a ghostly presence shrouding them like a fog that wouldn’t lift.

“Eriktor, code name Omega, and Firuz Nikahd, code name Lion, fought us with ancient Chinese kung fu styles.”

Mirage didn’t glance up to make eye contact. He couldn’t, not with the reality of their near death storming his mind.

He applied the final bandages while he concluded what he’d learned.

“The Imperial Tiger and Fanged Snake style takes decades to master. Most of the training begins during the adolescent years.”

Grace grunted.

“They are considered legendary. Says the Tiger is the largest, most powerful, and deadliest of all animal styles. He’s sheer ferocity. His bare hands strong enough to tear through Kevlar.”

Mirage fingered the clean tear through Grace’s trench.

“You fought the deadliest man in the world, Grace,” Mirage whispered through the pain in his chest.

Grace sat up and took his hand.

They both knew the fight could’ve resulted in their deaths.

With their hands clasped, the deep lines etched in Grace’s forehead made Mirage touch his brow to his.

“If Lion wasn’t so disciplined…if he would’ve…” Mirage couldn’t finish the fucking sentence. That’s how terrified he was of losing Grace. “I wouldn’t’ve hesitated to follow you into the next life.”

Grace surged forward and slammed his mouth over his.

Mirage grunted in surprise but quickly recovered, kissing Grace back and infusing all the fear he had locked inside.

The kiss was fervent, almost primal.

When they had to stop to breathe, Grace gripped the back of Mirage’s neck and held their foreheads tight together, gasping into each other’s mouths.

Grace ran his stubbled cheek over Mirage’s, scraping his jaw with roughness until his lips were against his ear.

“Matthew,” Grace rumbled.

Mirage swallowed a pound of shock. He hadn’t heard his birth name spoken in years. It wasn’t supposed to exist anymore.

What Grace had to say wasn’t for Mirage. It wasn’t for the man of illusions. It was for the man he was born as. It was for the son of an honorable man.

Grace’s raspy timbre made Mirage’s heart race. He could hear fear and anguish in his tone.

“Listen to me…and know this.”

Mirage wrapped his arms around his partner’s back, pulling him as close as he could, wanting to hear every rare sound from Grace’s mouth.

“All of my soul, or what remains of it…belongs to you. You’re the keeper of my fractured heart. Not even the deadliest man in the world can take me from you.”

Grace’s voice and declaration were so powerful that they lingered long after he finished speaking.