Page 81 of Blinding Light

Cyprian spun his head. “What?” His voice sounded weird, like someone else pulled the strings, making his mouth move.

Moargan stood in the doorway, his sleeping pants and blond hair a sleepy mess. “What are you doing out here? It’s four in the morning.” He frowned when he dragged his purple gaze down. “Are you smoking?”

“No, I—” Cyprian dipped his chin and stared at the cigarette in his hand.

“And what the hell is that drawing?” Moargan moved in closer, a slow smile curving his lips. “My cute lightweight. How many of those cigarettes did you smoke?” Taking the pack away,Moargan tipped one out with his lips. A red smoke filled their distance.

“Only one,” he muttered. He’d had only one, right? “I couldn’t sleep.”

Moargan peered at him through the smoke. “Could have woken me up.”

“You looked so peaceful. I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“Peaceful, huh?” Moargan huffed, flicking off the cigarette ash against a self-made ashtray that looked to be a vase of some sort. “So you decided to steal my smokes and hide in here. Why?”

“It wasn’t like that. I—” Moargan’s last question made him halt. Why had he come here? He turned toward the drawing and squinted. Those voices, those visions… had he hallucinated? Had it been the drugs?

“Hear me. Please. Connect with me.”

What the hell did that mean?

“What did you draw, lover?”

They both stared at the canvas.

“I don’t know,” Cyprian confessed. In his mind, it had felt so obvious, the shapes created by his fingers so natural.

“It looks like some kind of shelter to me. Is this where you grew up?”

“No.” The drawing looked ominous. Moargan was right, with its low roof and an endless dark pit, it looked like the room in the attic where his foster parents locked him and his siblings up when they were punished.

Had his mind been taunted by yet another memory?

Suddenly Cyprian just wanted to sleep.

“Hold up,aeon. You’re slumping.” Moargan snatched the cigarette out of Cyprian’s hand and simultaneously wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling him close. “Let’s get you back to bed.”

“I’m so tired,” Cyprian mumbled in Moargan’s neck. He no longer felt his feet on the ground.

“I know, lover. It’s today. It was a lot. Meeting your piece of a shit father.” Lifting a hand, Moargan brushed a lock behind Cyprian’s ear. “I’m proud of you for opening up to Aviel. For seeking some comfort.”

Cyprian’s nostrils flared at the words of praise. “Really?”

Moargan smiled. “Yes. I feared you would stay here, keeping your thoughts and feelings locked up. Aviel has had a similar life as you. You can talk to him. And you can talk to me, lover.”

“Honestly, I don’t know how to feel,” Cyprian admitted. “Other than feeling humiliated, broken. He said he never wanted me and then he just laughed right in my face. It just made me feel so useless. So fucking disposable.”

“You are not disposable,” Moargan rumbled. His nails dug into Cyprian’s flesh as he kicked the bedroom door shut. “You aremine.”

That was…tears rolled down his cheeks, but it wasn’t sadness Cyprian felt. Not anymore. He felt relieved. He needed Moargan with an intensity he couldn’t comprehend. His flesh trembled, veins thrummed, and as if Moargan felt it too, because their palms melted together, making them both exhale in relief.

“Ssh,” Moargan murmured, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. “I know what you need. He fucked you up, but soon it will be your turn.”

Why?Cyprian wanted to ask, but no words passed his dry throat.

“Don’t worry,” Moargan then laid him back on the bed and climbed in next to him. Cyprian sighed when Moargan’s lips found the tender spot on his throat, scraping his teeth over it, humming as he broke the skin and lapped at the sting. “I’ll take good care of you. I have no clue what the hell is happening to me. You have bewitched me.”

Moargan’s hard cock pressed against Cyprian’s ass cheeks. “Is that your way of taking good care of me?”

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