Page 25

F ive minutes felt like fifty.

Not that time had any fucking meaning at all anymore. Somewhere around the point where he couldn’t feel his fingers—wasn’t sure if they still existed at all—Lex had lost track.

The scariest thing?

The oh shit, maybe I wish I was in an alternate reality moment?

That was when Lex looked out the window, praying something felt cool enough, and he saw normal things: cars, the city. Traffic.

He blinked. Once.

And then he was in the hotel room, with the suite turning on it side. Like some fucking trick a magician would pull.

Time didn’t exist.

Hell, he didn’t exist .

Nothing mattered, and all he wanted was to lay down. He couldn’t keep looking at the dresser, tilted and wrong. The drawers should’ve been falling out. There should’ve been clothes everywhere—Morgan should have been absolutely losing his shit.

But everything was fucking normal .

Normal.

What did that mean? Anything?

I just need sleep. I’m tired. Today was… a lot.

Lex kept repeating it to himself, over and over, and he knew it was true. He did. Somewhere.

But his body?

His mind?

Neither were listening, not in the way it counted.

All he wanted was the bed. Something soft. Somewhere that didn’t spin when he looked at it.

But Morgan caught his hands.

“Don’t fight,” Morgan murmured, the grip on Lex’s wrist too tight. “I need you to listen. Can you do that?”

Lex could’ve sworn he nodded—felt his head twitch—but Morgan didn’t look any more pleased.

Morgan didn’t look like like his usual self at all. Not neutral. Not bored. No blank expression, dead to the world, like he got right before murder.

It couldn’t have been concern on Morgan’s face. Because it was Morgan, for fuck’s sake.

But it’s not as if anything was real, anyway. Not tonight. Not right this very second .

The bathroom was already warm when Morgan pulled him into it. Lex flinched as his foot hit the tile, slick with water. The heat was instant. It crawled up his skin, licking at his ankles, his calves, soaking straight through the fabric of his jeans. He tried to pull back, but Morgan didn’t let him.

There should’ve been steam on the mirrors— jesus why was it so hot—but, where were the mirrors again?

Never mind. Not important.

“ Listen ,” Morgan repeated. “Don’t forget to listen.”

“I—” Lex tried, voice cracking. He wasn’t even sure what he was going to say. It’s too hot? I can’t do this? I wish I never fucking came here?

Morgan didn’t let him speak. Just held him with both hands now, wrist and shoulder, and guided him forward until the backs of his knees hit porcelain.

Lex blinked. The tub had water in it already. Too high, almost sloshing over the edge. The surface shimmered, all heat and sharp, invisible sting that told him exactly how bad it would burn once he was in.

Drowning was the worst way to die, wasn’t it?

Please. God. I don’t want to fucking die.

Morgan didn’t hesitate. He reached for Lex’s shirt, pulled it over his, and let it drop onto the floor. Then his jeans. The denim peeled off his skin like it didn’t belong to him, tugged down in practiced, brutal efficiency.

Lex made a sound when his boxers scraped a cut on his hip he hadn’t realized was there. A whimper, more like. Something small and pathetic .

Morgan still didn’t speak, not until Lex was naked and shivering, even in the unbearable heat. He brushed his knuckles down Lex’s sternum.

“Get in.”

Lex hesitated.

This was where Ollie was supposed to die.

Was Morgan just finished with him?

No.

No, no, no.

Not like this.

“Now.”

Lex finally dipped his toe in, and he sucked in a breath trying to jerk back. Too hot. Too fucking hot.

But Morgan steadied him with both hands, guiding him until his knees bent and his body sank into the water.

Lex bit his lip so hard he tasted blood.

Morgan didn’t flinch. Didn’t ask. He just eased Lex the rest of the way down, one hand at the back of his neck, the other at his chest, applying just enough pressure to say: stay here. Stay with me.

Lex sat, barely breathing, steam curling up around his face. The room pulsed. The walls shifted. His vision tunneled in and out, like a camera losing focus.

One second it was just the tile and the damn hot water in front of him.

The next it was Morgan. Still in that suit, expensive enough to rent a life .

“I’m going to count your breaths,” Morgan said. “You’ll breathe when I say. You’ll hold it when I tell you. You don’t think. You don’t speak. You just follow.”

Who got into a bath with clothes on ?

“Lex. You need to listen . Tell me you heard me.”

Lex nodded, too quickly.

“Breathe in,” Morgan said. “Now hold it.”

Lex inhaled, lungs expanding painfully. His ribs screamed in protest.

Then, Morgan’s hand again—firm, unwavering—and Lex went under.

He counted the seconds in his head. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Sev—

What came after seven?

He couldn’t hold his breath this long. He couldn’t.

Morgan was going to let him fucking drown —

Lex surfaced with a gasp that burned like hell. He flailed, grasping for the edge, for Morgan, for anything that would tell him he was still here. Still real.

That was—fuck. Easily the scariest thing Morgan had ever done. And that was saying something.

But Morgan didn’t give him a second to breathe . He caught Lex’s wrists midair, dragged them to his chest and pinned them there.

“Again,” Morgan whispered, too quiet and too loud all at once. “You’re still thinking. Stop. What did I say? What do you need to do?”

Listen. I heard you the first four times.

It was supposed to come out of Lex’s mouth. Not stay stuck, bouncing around his head.

Lex opened his mouth, but only a weird, choked sound followed. Everything was still shaking, too tight, ribcage fluttering like it was about to crack.

Morgan didn’t let him move. Didn’t soothe. He just held Lex’s wrists, pressed against the soaked fabric of his shirt.

“One more time.”

Lex shook his head.

His chest felt hollow, like something had caved in, and his teeth wouldn’t stop clicking against each other. But Morgan didn’t react. Not with anger, not with comfort—just with that unflinching certainty that made Lex’s stomach twist.

“Breathe in.”

I can’t do this.

“Hold it.”

The hand returned to the back of Lex’s head—this time firmer, more certain. No slow descent. No warning.

Morgan pushed him under.

The heat hit first, scalding across Lex’s scalp and down his spine. Then the sound disappeared—no more sloshing water, no breath, no Morgan’s voice. Just the low, eerie throb of blood behind his eyes.

He blinked. Once. Twice.

The world was quiet .

His body jerked automatically, searching for air. But Morgan’s grip was solid. Present. Alive. Lex could feel the fingers at his neck like a collar, anchoring him in place. He wasn’t alone.

He started counting, mouthing the numbers inside the water. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.

Seven. Eight. Nine.

There was a pull—something deep in his chest, fighting now, telling him to panic. His limbs kicked once, jerky and slow. His lungs screamed.

Ten. Eleven. Twelve.

His hands hit Morgan’s forearm, but they didn’t shove. Didn’t beg. They just clung.

He stayed under. He chose to stay under.

And then—release.

Morgan yanked him back up into the air, gasping and sputtering and slamming back into sensation all at once. Lex coughed so hard he saw stars, water burning in his throat, his vision swimming.

The world felt too bright.

He sagged forward, but Morgan didn’t let go. Just caught him by the wrists and held them there, crossed against his chest like a makeshift harness.

“Again,” Morgan said, low and controlled.

Lex shook his head—violently this time. His voice cracked when he tried to say no. Nothing came out.

“You’re still thinking,” Morgan said.

Lex’s breath stuttered. His body tensed.

“I need you to trust me,” Morgan continued. “Let everything go quiet for once in your bratty life. ”

Then he did it again.

Down.

Lex didn’t count this time.

This time, his mind didn’t try to save him.

The heat enveloped him like arms. The ache in his chest disappeared beneath the stillness. He went limp, floating in place, weightless and slow. He wasn’t a person anymore—just a thing suspended in silence.

When Morgan finally pulled him out, Lex collapsed against his chest. Slack. Trembling. But not fighting.

Not anymore.

He didn’t speak.

He didn’t need to.

God, it felt good. The feeling after waking from a nightmare and realizing you’re safe.

Morgan’s arms wrapped around his waist. “Better.”

Lex couldn’t nod, but something inside him melted .

He felt himself being shifted—repositioned. He didn’t help. Didn’t resist. Let Morgan tug him back until his spine hit the loose belt buckle, Morgan’s cock pressed between them.

“You’re so stubborn,” Morgan muttered against his damp hair. “I saw this coming from a mile away. You take and take and then break like glass the second someone breathes too hard on you.”

He pushed Lex forward slightly and stroked his cock once—brutal and quick.

“No more thinking. That’s done. All you need to do now is feel . ”

Lex whimpered, hips twitching—need rising in his chest, too big for his body. He shifted forward, trying to find more friction, but Morgan didn’t allow it.

“Stop moving.”

A pause.

“Unless you want me to start over.”

Lex froze.

Every nerve was lit up, raw and humming. His cock ached where it brushed against Morgan’s palm. His breath shuddered out of him like it was being exhaled by someone else entirely.

He couldn’t see straight, couldn’t think, couldn’t—

“Tell me what you need,” Morgan murmured, voice low, meant only for him.

Lex’s mouth opened.

No sound came out at first.

Then, soft—hoarse—

“You.”

Morgan didn’t say good boy.

He didn’t need to.

That was the word.

That was all it took.

One hand tilted Lex’s hips up, the other wrapped around the base of his cock like a claim.

“Are you still listening?” Morgan asked, calm as always. “You come, and I stop.”