Page 28

Just moved to the top lip. Pierced it, too. Not all the way. Enough to seal the two lips together. Enough to keep the sound inside.

Lex couldn’t look away.

Something about it was… wrong.

Not the act itself—he’d watched worse. Filmed shit so much worse. But the way Morgan did it—

He wasn’t punishing Ollie.

He was removing the possibility of being defied.

Lex inhaled too much air, all at once.

If Morgan could do that to Ollie—

What would he do to Lex?

What would happen if Morgan didn’t find him useful?

If he stopped entertaining Morgan?

Because that—that’s what Morgan had said. Back at the house. All those months ago .

You’ll always find a way to keep my attention.

Would he, though?

God, if he could have two seconds inside Morgan’s head to figure out w hat he was thinking… Lex would give the whole world.

Two seconds wasn’t asking for a lot. Just a fucking miracle.

Morgan knotted the silk. Trimmed the edge.

“Now you’ll think before you act,” he murmured, putting the first aid kit back together. Like nothing happened.

Ollie sobbed—soft, wet, unvoiced.

Lex felt that sound in his teeth.

He didn’t realize his hands were shaking until he dropped the phone onto his bare foot.

Morgan turned, finally, and his eyes landed on Lex.

He didn’t smile.

Didn’t speak.

Just looked.

And Lex—Lex couldn’t read it.

For the first time in years, the expression didn’t register. It wasn’t amusement. It wasn’t anger. It wasn’t teasing or threat or the coiled violence that usually lived behind Morgan’s eyes.

It was blank. Like looking at someone he didn’t recognize—someone who didn’t recognize him.

Bile rose in his throat. He would’ve taken rage. Would’ve begged for rage. Something to hold onto. Something to prove that Morgan still felt something for him.

But this ?

Please hate me. Please hate me or punish me or tell me I’m being a little shit, but don’t—

Don’t go cold.

Don’t check out.

Because if Morgan was done with him… if this was what that looked like…

Lex wasn’t sure what he’d do next.

Cleanup took longer than it should have.

It was normally such a quick process.

Put whatever they used back. Put Ollie back.

Done.

But everything—

It sounded too loud. Louder than it should have been.

Every scrape of Morgan’s shoes. Every soft, hiccuped breath Ollie made.

Even the sound of his own skin—thumbs rubbing against his palms—too sharp. Like someone was digging inside his skull with a butter knife.

Morgan didn’t ask what was wrong.

And Lex didn’t ask for a hug.

He should’ve.

He really, really should’ve.

By the time they had all the parts squared away—cases shut neatly, every smear of red wiped clean, Ollie in the metal crate—his head felt too full. The air conditioner on too high.

Thoughts echoing in places they didn’t fucking belong.

If Morgan… if Morgan was done with him? Finished? That left him with nothing.

Less than nothing.

Alone.

Morgan said something, Lex didn’t catch what.

When he looked up, he saw Morgan holding up a cup.

The instant coffee maker already on. Bubbling away.

Lex cleared his throat. “Yeah. I’ll take coffee.”

Morgan frowned, didn’t move. Didn’t hand him the cup.

That wasn’t what he asked, was it?

Lex had guessed. Pulled shit out of thin air and hoped it was right.

God, say something already.

Maybe it was directed toward Morgan. Maybe at himself.

At this point? Didn’t matter.

When Morgan finally set the cup down, it was tea. Not coffee. Little paper tag dangling, wrapped around the handle twice.

Lex burned his tongue on the first sip.

Chamomile.

Not his favorite.

This wasn't working. Bitter, bland leaf water wasn't doing it for him.

Shower.

A shower would fix this. Showers fixed everything .

Lex left the mug on the end table, cracked open the bathroom door.

Stopped.

The last time he’d showered without Morgan had been… fuck, how long had it been? Two months? Four? He couldn’t remember.

But Morgan—reliable, trusty, schedule-driven Morgan—was on the bed with the laptop again. Tapping away.

It wasn’t worth interrupting him.

Morgan would be awake when he got out.

Did the shower help?

Eh. Kinda.

Like—thirty percent helped.

He thought Morgan would be waiting. Sitting up in bed. Laptop still open. Fingers still typing away.

But Morgan wasn’t waiting.

He was curled up. One side of the bed still empty. Blankets tangled around his waist, one hand hanging off the edge .

He was asleep.

Asleep .

How do you fucking look at a person like that and go to bed?

Lex stood there. Dripping. Towel low on his hips. Bare feet silent on the carpet.

He watched the slow rise and fall of Morgan’s chest. Watched the way his eyes moved behind his lids.

Nothing.

“Seriously?” Lex whispered.

Lex crept closer. Lowered himself onto the bed like the weight of him might wake the whole fucking world.

He reached for Morgan—one hand hovering above his shoulder.

No response.

Another inch closer.

Still nothing.

He was out like a goddamn light.

Lex curled in behind him anyway. Pressed his forehead to Morgan’s shoulder, fingers clinging to the fabric of the shirt Morgan hadn’t taken off.

Morgan didn’t move. Didn’t pull away.

And Lex—

Lex held on.

Tight.

“I hate you sometimes,” he mumbled, shoving his face deeper into cotton and cologne. “You never give me shit to work off of… I’m not asking for a whole hell of a lot here.”

Morgan didn’t answer.

Lex pressed his mouth to Morgan’s spine.

“You’re not done with me. You’re not. Even if you think you are—I know you better than you know yourself, Morgan.”

He stayed like that.

Curled around Morgan’s chilly, sleeping body.

Desperate.

Too fucking proud to wake him up .

But this? It helped more than the shower.

Especially when Morgan’s hand reached back and squeezed Lex’s leg.

That helped more than anything.