Page 134 of The Mourning Throne
“You almost fucking did. I—Iwatchedhim, and I couldn’t… I couldn’t do anything.”
Morgan lifted a hand. It was like moving bricks through deep water, but he forced it up anyway. Traced the line of Lex’s jaw, the pulse beneath fragile skin—fast, frantic. He couldn’t hold Lex the way he wanted, couldn’t calm. Couldn’t soothe.
Lex exhaled hard.
“I thought I was too late,” he whispered. “I thought I’d never get to say it.”
Morgan didn’t ask what. Didn’t get a chance to.
Lex was speaking too quickly now, stumbling over words as if he couldn’t get them out fast enough.
“I love you. Not because you do all the fucked-up things I won’t. I love you because you’remine. I don’t want to deal with this shitty place alone.”
Lex took a breath but it shook, stuck in his throat.
“You’re all I have,” he mumbled. “That’s it. It’s supposed to be me and you against the world. You don’t… you don’t even have to say it back. I just wanted to make sure you heard it.”
Morgan’s hand moved, clumsy and slow, to the back of Lex’s neck. His fingers curled into messy hair, not tight—just there. Just present.
It was cute, and such a very Lex statement. Predictable.
There wasn’t a need to say it out loud. Declare it for everyone to hear—even if it was only them.
Actions spoke so much louder than words.
Lex kissed him.
It wasn’t rushed. Wasn’t frantic. It didn’t crash into Morgan like so many of their previous moments—violent, possessive, edged with desperation. It was quiet.
Intentional.
There was nothing demanding in it. Nothing that asked for more than Morgan could give. And that alone almost undid him.
Lex didn’t kiss like someone asking for permission. He kissed like someone giving it—over and over, with every soft drag of lips against his.
I forgive you. I see you. I love you.
It tasted like blood and exhaustion and grief.
It tasted like relief.
Morgan opened his mouth, just slightly, and Lex met it. Wet and slow and real.
No one else would ever kiss the same way Lex did.
Lex made a sound, so quiet Morgan might’ve missed it if they weren’t close. A broken thing. A moan swallowed in a sob. It cracked right down the center of Morgan’s chest.
Lex’s hands didn’t roam. They clung—one fisted weakly in Morgan’s shirt, the other cradling the back of his skull with a tenderness Morgan didn’t know how to hold. Every time he shifted closer, Morgan felt the tremble still running through him like aftershocks.
This wasn’t about sex. It wasn’t about power. It was something older. More sacred. The kind of kiss that only came after survival. After ruin.
Lex pulled back half an inch, just enough for their noses to touch. His eyes were damp, lashes clumped together in gold spikes.
And Morgan hadn’t realized how much he needed this. Just… the quiet. The weight of Lex breathing in sync with him. The reminder that whatever pieces of himself he’d broken in the fight, this—Lex—was still here.
That Lexwouldcome back. Time and time again.
Lex’s fingers traced the side of Morgan’s neck.
