Page 88 of The Mourning Throne
Barefoot, shirtless, hair tousled from where he’d been tugging at it. He was carrying something—his phone. Too bright in the dark.
It clattered onto the nightstand, and the bed shifted as Lex sat down. Plugged it in.
“Are you still up?” Lex asked. Loud enough to wake the dead. “Great—great. Okay. Listen. I figured out what I did wrong. Right? Go me. Looking into shit. I was—honestly—going with the flow, and something didn’t feel right.And I figured out what it was.”
Morgan didn’t answer.
Lex didn’t notice.
He flopped down beside Morgan and tucked himself in close, one leg already tangling with Morgan’s.
“I started with howyouact with Ollie,” Lex went on, head nestled against Morgan’s chest. “Not howI actwithOllie. And I think that fucked up the beginning. The whole,now, bit—it works, Morgan. It works foryou. Doesn’t for me. Anyway—”
Morgan grabbed his jaw.
Enough to still him.
He didn’t realize how hard his fingers were dug in until Lex winced.
“You break it, you buy it,” Lex whispered. Softer now. His hands came up around Morgan’s wrist, circling there. Thumb sliding against his palm. Feeling for the pressure point.
Morgan relaxed his grip a little. His other arm slung low around Lex’s waist, anchoring him. He rolled, slow and deliberate, until Lex was under him—pinned between Morgan’s body and the mattress.
It would’ve been easier to talk. Would have been a much more efficient way of handling this. But there weren’t enough words anymore. They’d bounced around Morgan’s head and died. Fell apart at the seams. He’d reasoned every single one away.
“Morgan..?” Lex asked carefully. “Sleep walking is scary shit. And, last time I checked, you don’t do that.” His hands moved to Morgan’s face, smoothing down the line of his nose, his lips.
It didn’t help.
Morgan still needed tocheck. To verify every inch of Lex—skin, hair, throat, chest. His eyes started at the top, moved down methodically. Taking inventory of what washis.
He should’ve spoke. Should’ve told Lex—you left me. You were gone. You didn’t come back.
Morgan kissed him instead.
Hard. Fast. A press of lips that dragged too long, teeth catching. Lex didn’t fight it. He kissed back, messy and eager, as if that was enough to fix the issue. Change the narrative.
Morgan didn’t let him up.
Their teeth clashed together. Tongue sliding deep. Like he couldtastethe parts of Lex that had lingered too long near the cage.
Lex made a sound—half-moan, half-startled—and jerked his head to the side.
“Pause. Jesus.” He inhaled, even though his hands moved down Morgan’s chest. “Pause. Pause. Pause. Gotta let mebreathe.”
Morgan leaned in, mouth brushing Lex’s throat. He slid his teeth across skin. Waited for the pressure in his chest to ease.
“If you ever leave me again,” he whispered, “I’ll put you in something worse than that damn cage.”
Lex froze. Every muscle locked up in Morgan’s arms. He didn’t look at him for a moment. Just licked his lips, tongue catching a smear of his own blood Morgan hadn’t noticed before.
Then—
“You missed me.”
That wasn’t the right phrase. Not the words Morgan would’ve used—
“No. Seriously.” Lex turned his head back to him, smug little smirk in place. “Youmissedme. I was gone like—what—an hour?”
