Page 26

Lex made a sound—half broken, half desperate—but he nodded.

“Exhale.”

Then Morgan pushed in .

There was no warning. No prep. Just the slick glide of spit and water and the merciless stretch of Lex’s body giving way, taking all of it at once. Lex arched, but Morgan’s grip kept him trapped against his chest.

It wasn’t fast . It wasn’t rough .

That’s what Lex expected—hell, that’s how he liked it at this point.

It was too slow.

Controlled.

Each thrust perfectly measured, enough to keep Lex right at the edge.

Lex couldn’t do anything but take it.

The water sloshed up the tub, heat wrapping everything in a haze. His body trembled uncontrollably, every inch of him too sensitive, too hot, too open.

Morgan fucked him like he was pouring something back into him.

Filling every hollow space.

Rebuilding the pieces he’d shattered earlier.

Lex clutched at the rim of the tub, needing something to hold onto that wasn’t himself. One more second and he was going to start crying—from relief, from pleasure, who the fuck knew.

Morgan’s voice brushed against his ear.

“You come, and I stop,” he reminded again, slower this time.

Lex’s cock throbbed, leaking against his stomach.

It was unbearable.

But he didn’t let go.

He didn’t come .

Lex gritted his teeth, every muscle in his body screaming. The need was overwhelming, but the fear of losing this was even greater. He didn’t know how long he lasted like that, trembling on the brink, but it felt like an eternity.

Finally, Morgan’s breathing hitched. “You can,” he gasped out, his voice strained. And that was all the permission Lex needed.

He came with a strangled cry, spilling onto his stomach as the orgasm ripped through him. Morgan continued to move inside him, just a few more thrusts before he groaned too, burying his face in Lex’s neck as he came.

By the time Morgan pulled out, Lex was shivering and slack, body boneless, breath reduced to soft little gasps that barely qualified as words. He leaned back against Morgan like he could melt there.

Morgan cradled him close, one arm slung low around his stomach, the other gently brushing wet strands of hair from his forehead.

“You’re mine,” he whispered, quieter now. “Don’t ever forget that. Don’t ever doubt that.”

Lex didn’t answer, but damn if that didn’t make him smile.

The bathwater cooled around them, steam fading from the mirror, from the air, from Lex’s skin.

Morgan didn’t move right away. He just held him. Not tight. Not loose. Just right —the way you might hold something broken that you weren’t quite finished putting back together.

Lex shivered. Not from the temperature.

From the absence of sensation.

The absence of Morgan inside him .

His body buzzed, numb and sore and stretched, but none of that mattered. Not really. Not when he could feel Morgan’s breath against the back of his neck. Not when every shift, every brush of cotton against skin, reminded him: Morgan is here. Morgan is real. I’m not alone.

“Let’s go to bed,” Morgan murmured, voice low and flat.

But Lex felt it anyway.

The warmth beneath the surface. The deliberate softness. Morgan’s version of gentle.

Lex didn’t respond. Couldn’t.

He wanted to say thank you . Or don’t stop touching me . Or I’m alright now.

But his mouth wouldn’t work. His limbs wouldn’t work.

Morgan shifted behind him, the sound of water and Morgan’s belt buckle too damn loud in the quiet. Then hands slipped beneath Lex’s knees and back, lifted him up.

Lex didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. Just curled closer, his cheek pressed against Morgan’s chest like it belonged there.

He could hear Morgan’s heartbeat.

It didn’t race.

It never did.

Maybe that was why it calmed him.

Morgan carried him through the suite—wet slap of footsteps on tile, and then the dull, sucking drag of feet on carpet. The bed was already turned down—of course it was. Morgan would’ve done it before the bath.

Morgan planned for everything.

The sheets were cold as shit when Lex was lowered into them, but his entire body had already surrendered .

Morgan tucked him in, pulled the sheets up to his chin. One hand lingered against Lex’s jaw, thumb brushing the hollow of his cheek.

“Stay down,” Morgan murmured. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

Lex’s fingers twitched. They curled in the blanket like they might follow.

But he stayed.

Morgan came back, naked as the day he was born, with a towel and a glass of water. He didn’t ask Lex to sit up. He didn’t demand anything.

He just climbed in behind him, pulled Lex into his chest, and pressed the glass to his lips when Lex didn’t move fast enough to drink on his own.

Lex sipped. Slowly.

Each swallow cooled something inside him he hadn’t realized was burning.

Morgan wiped down his neck, his arms, his chest, still methodical—but slower now. Smoother. As if he was aware Lex would break if he moved too fast. His fingers caught on a bruise. He didn’t apologize. He didn’t avoid it, either.

“You’ll start to feel better tomorrow,” Morgan said, the closest he’d come to asking how Lex felt.

Lex nodded against his shoulder.

“Don’t get that lost again,” Morgan said after a beat. “I need to be able to find you. Learn to ask for help.”

That was… a lot. Maybe the most Morgan had ever asked of him.

Lex didn’t promise.

He couldn’t .

But he shifted closer anyway. Wrapped himself tighter around Morgan’s chest.

And when Morgan pulled the blanket over them, resting his hand against Lex’s back—warm and heavy and unyielding—Lex let himself really breathe for the first time all night.