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Lex didn’t come to bed. Not when he was supposed to. Their usual time had passed. Fifteen minutes ago. Eighteen, now.

Morgan had heard the cage door open and close. The metallic snap of the lock catching. And then—nothing.

No footsteps. No Lex climbing into bed, attaching himself like a second skin. No arm thrown across Morgan’s chest. No whispered nonsense in his ear.

Just—nothing.

Maybe Lex needed a minute. Time to come down. Calibrate. Process.

That was reasonable. Expected.

So why hadn’t he come back?

Morgan should’ve sat up. Said something.

He didn’t.

He lay there, spine straight against the mattress, unmoving. Eyes fixed to the ceiling like it might offer data. Answers. Something concrete.

It wasn’t the cage.

It wasn’t Ollie.

It wasn’t Lex’s experimentation with power.

It was the delay.

The hesitation.

The fact that Lex hadn’t immediately returned to him.

There had always been rhythm.

Morgan hurt. Lex watched. The aftermath was theirs.

But this time, something had shifted. The balance was off. The tempo was wrong. Lex hadn’t come running back, high on adrenaline, speaking too fast, needy in that way that always ended with Morgan’s fingers in his mouth, his voice silenced.

And this time? Morgan didn’t want to silence him.

He wanted to listen.

Wanted Lex to talk until he collapsed.

Wanted to say— you were beautiful . You did everything right.

But the bed was still empty.

Morgan catalogued the stillness.

No footsteps.

No creaking floorboards.

No familiar weight tilting the mattress.

Just absence .

He didn’t move.

Because if he did, if he moved from the bed, he would shift the dynamic . He would make a decision for both of them. That was his power. That had always been his power.

But he didn’t want to wield it.

Not for this.

His hand curled into the sheet.

He focused on the lack of breath. The absence of sound. The empty air where Lex’s voice should’ve been—too loud, too fast, too full of things no one else ever said out loud.

But there was nothing.

And Morgan hated nothing .

His thoughts sharpened. Surgically clean.

He replayed Lex’s face when he’d locked the cage. The way he crouched. The tone he’d used when he told Ollie not to cry.

Too gentle.

Too soft.

It wasn’t wrong.

It was— stunning .

But still, that green, rotting pressure pushed at his chest.

Not because Lex would choose Ollie.

That was laughable.

Pathetic.

But because Lex hadn’t come back.

Because if Lex could wait , if he could linger somewhere else, then maybe he didn’t need Morgan as much as Morgan needed him.

Maybe.

Morgan inhaled .

Held it.

Exhaled. Again.

It wasn’t working.

Morgan had never been good at hiding when he wanted something. And right now?

He wanted Lex in this bed.

Where he belonged.

Where he was supposed to be.

But Morgan could wait.

He could hold the line.

Because Lex always came back.

Eventually.

He would come back.

He would.

… he would.

And when he did?

Morgan would remind him.

You are mine.

You chose me.

Don’t forget what that means.

He must’ve dozed. Just briefly. No more than a few minutes.

Because when Morgan’s eyes opened again, the clock read 1:42a.m , and the cage closed again. Latch clicked shut.

Lex padded in like nothing was wrong.

Barefoot, shirtless, hair tousled from where he’d been tugging at it. He was carrying something—his phone. Too bright in the dark.

It clattered onto the nightstand, and the bed shifted as Lex sat down. Plugged it in.

“Are you still up?” Lex asked. Loud enough to wake the dead. “Great—great. Okay. Listen. I figured out what I did wrong. Right? Go me. Looking into shit. I was—honestly—going with the flow, and something didn’t feel right. And I figured out what it was .”

Morgan didn’t answer.

Lex didn’t notice.

He flopped down beside Morgan and tucked himself in close, one leg already tangling with Morgan’s.

“I started with how you act with Ollie,” Lex went on, head nestled against Morgan’s chest. “Not how I act with Ollie. And I think that fucked up the beginning. The whole, now , bit—it works, Morgan. It works for you . Doesn’t for me. Anyway—”

Morgan grabbed his jaw.

Enough to still him.

He didn’t realize how hard his fingers were dug in until Lex winced.

“You break it, you buy it,” Lex whispered. Softer now. His hands came up around Morgan’s wrist, circling there. Thumb sliding against his palm. Feeling for the pressure point.

Morgan relaxed his grip a little. His other arm slung low around Lex’s waist, anchoring him. He rolled, slow and deliberate, until Lex was under him—pinned between Morgan’s body and the mattress .

It would’ve been easier to talk. Would have been a much more efficient way of handling this. But there weren’t enough words anymore. They’d bounced around Morgan’s head and died. Fell apart at the seams. He’d reasoned every single one away.

“Morgan..?” Lex asked carefully. “Sleep walking is scary shit. And, last time I checked, you don’t do that.” His hands moved to Morgan’s face, smoothing down the line of his nose, his lips.

It didn’t help.

Morgan still needed to check . To verify every inch of Lex—skin, hair, throat, chest. His eyes started at the top, moved down methodically. Taking inventory of what was his .

He should’ve spoke. Should’ve told Lex— you left me. You were gone. You didn’t come back.

Morgan kissed him instead.

Hard. Fast. A press of lips that dragged too long, teeth catching. Lex didn’t fight it. He kissed back, messy and eager, as if that was enough to fix the issue. Change the narrative.

Morgan didn’t let him up.

Their teeth clashed together. Tongue sliding deep. Like he could taste the parts of Lex that had lingered too long near the cage.

Lex made a sound—half-moan, half-startled—and jerked his head to the side.

“ Pause . Jesus.” He inhaled, even though his hands moved down Morgan’s chest. “Pause. Pause. Pause. Gotta let me breathe .”

Morgan leaned in, mouth brushing Lex’s throat. He slid his teeth across skin. Waited for the pressure in his chest to ease.

“If you ever leave me again,” he whispered, “I’ll put you in something worse than that damn cage. ”

Lex froze. Every muscle locked up in Morgan’s arms. He didn’t look at him for a moment. Just licked his lips, tongue catching a smear of his own blood Morgan hadn’t noticed before.

Then—

“You missed me.”

That wasn’t the right phrase. Not the words Morgan would’ve used—

“No. Seriously.” Lex turned his head back to him, smug little smirk in place. “You missed me. I was gone like—what—an hour?”

“And twelve minutes,” Morgan murmured.

“An—an hour and twelve minutes .”

Morgan didn’t move.

He held him down until Lex stopped wriggling. Until he melted into the mattress, breath stuttering, pupils blown wide with whatever cocktail of arousal and panic and delight lived in his chest.

Then Morgan finally settled. Let his weight rest fully against Lex’s body. Let his arms circle him tighter, chin tucked above Lex’s head.

“Do this more often,” Lex said after a minute.

That was the worst idea Lex ever had.