15. Chapter 12
Chapter 12
T he living room was dark, save for the flickering blue light of the television.
Morgan hadn’t spoken a word since bringing Lex home four days ago. He couldn’t see the point. Words were wasted effort. They demanded energy he didn’t have .
Work was simple. Out the door at half past six in the morning. Back in at half past six in the evening.
But home? Home was where things had begun to fray.
With Kate under his arm, her eyes stuck on whatever blasé cooking competition was playing, Morgan felt less than nothing. The even keel of his emotions—bland, like unseasoned food—had dipped since returning from the cabin, threatening to stay on that bottommost rung of emptiness.
Lex had been at the house, the entire time, either locked in Morgan’s old room or curled up on the chair.
It was easier for Lex to be here, away from people who would ask questions about the half-healed marks. About the wince in his movements. About the panic that shot across his face the last time someone bumped into him. Neither of them could come up with an excuse that merited the unending concern.
Didn’t mean Morgan disliked it any less.
A few more days.
That’s what Morgan kept telling himself. A few more days, and Lex would be back at the office, instead of working from home.
Morgan wouldn’t have to sit here, watching Lex’s fingers lazily trail across the visible bruises under the collar of his t-shirt.
It got on his nerves more than he cared to admit aloud.
“Kate,” Lex mumbled. “I don’t wanna be a damn pain…”
The television paused and Kate sat up so quickly, that Morgan had to move out the way or risk bodily harm.
“No pain. No bother at all,” she said, sweet enough to make his teeth ache. “What do you need? ”
If nothing else, Kate was disgustingly obedient. But even the small things she did—the things Morgan taught her to do—irritated him.
Everything had been irritating the last two days. Except it wasn’t enough to elicit a response, to stir anything inside of him.
Lex’s flimsy smile flicked onto his face, like a switch someone hit. “I’m out of meds. Could you maybe get them..? They’re upstairs, in my room, or else I’d do it.”
Liar.
Morgan knew for a fact the bottle wasn’t empty. He’d heard it rattle less than twenty minutes ago when Lex picked it up. But eager, subservient Kate was already rushing off to play doting nurse.
For a moment, the room fell into that normal stillness. Morgan picked up his phone, forcing himself to ignore Lex’s presence entirely when he felt it: Lex’s eyes, hot and stubborn, drilling into the side of his head.
“Say it,” Lex spat.
Morgan didn’t ask what “it” meant. Lex had been pulling some stunt—some pathetic display of smug defiance—since the car ride.
“Ignore me all you want. You can deal with—with whatever on your own, but you can’t ignore what happened.”
He wasn’t particularly interested in playing along with this game.
“Why else would you bring me out there?” Lex continued, his voice shaking as it dipped quieter. “You care, Morgan. Say it .”
Sighing, Morgan dropped his hand from his temple and turned the phone face-down on his lap. The dull, rhythmic pulse behind his eyes was grating.
“You don’t know anything,” he said .
In a motion too smooth for what he had gone through, Lex slid off the chair and onto the couch. His knee jammed into Morgan’s thigh, hands flitting closer as if he didn’t know what to do with them before they fell to his lap.
“I think I know enough.”
If Morgan’s plan had gone any worse… no, it couldn’t have gone worse. It had somehow backfired in a way he never imagined.
“I should break my own rule and kill you,” Morgan said, rubbing his palms over his face, hoping to loosen the building stress.
“But you haven’t. That’s the thing. That’s the big glaring issue, Morgan. You haven’t. Hell, you didn’t do any lasting damage. I’ve been in car accidents worse than this.”
Morgan’s hand shot out, gripping Lex’s leg. He pressed his thumb into the brand, watching the tan turn pale, nearly gray.
“That’s not what you were saying at the cabin,” Morgan growled, pushing down until he saw tears spring into those blue eyes. “You were begging for mercy. Pleading for your life. Now that you’re here, you think you’re safe?”
Morgan could feel him trembling, his muscles twitching involuntarily, but Lex wasn’t pulling away—wasn’t even trying.
He wasn’t enjoying it either, and that, Morgan could count for something.
“Do you understand the thin ice you’re skating on? You—”
“When’s it gonna break then?” Lex interrupted through gritted teeth. “This version of you is,” he rolled his lips together, the wince cutting his sentence in half, “more fake than I thought. ”
The creak of the third step was enough signal to let Morgan know Kate was coming back down. He let go, shoving Lex’s leg away and picking up his phone again.
“You could’ve killed me a couple times now, Morgan. But you won’t. And it’s not because of some promise, either.”
Morgan’s jaw ticked, his gaze fixed on the bright screen of emails as though it held something worth looking at.
It didn’t.
He didn’t need to look up to see that stupid, miserable grin plastered on Lex’s face.
Lex was delusional. That was the conclusion Morgan had come to at the kitchen table.
Delusional or mentally unwell in a different way.
His eyes drifted from the phone screen to the stove, watching Kate’s mechanical movements as she stirred whatever new recipe she’d concocted tonight. She never dared raise her voice, never said no, never stepped one toe out of line.
That compliance was exactly what he had wanted out of her. It had made life easier for a while. Comfortable.
But comfort had a way of spoiling when left too long.
He looked back to the open emails. Promotions, project updates, deadlines. None of it mattered when he couldn’t concentrate. Not with Lex upstairs, the six shifting floorboards giving away his every move.
It was one more irritating thing to add to his list .
Lex had to know which parts of the floor made the most noise, it was impossible to dismiss the sound. And yet, there he was, doing something that made Morgan feel as if the ceiling was about to cave in on top of him.
Couldn’t he ever shut up? Even when he wasn’t speaking—when he wasn’t in the same room —he spoke . I won’t let you forget I’m here.
It was louder than the whining.
Kate’s hand came out of nowhere, a barely-there touch on his shoulder. Morgan forced himself to look up. She was watching him, her brow creased, the look on her face an annoyance all its own. “Are you alright?” she asked.
“Yes.”
She nodded the soft, angelic smile something he used to enjoy seeing. But the way she placed the food in front of him, the way she sat down too quietly, made Morgan’s skin itch.
“I saw the outfit for the charity gala,” Kate said after a while. “It’s very pretty. Thank you.”
Morgan paused, his knife halfway into the chicken breast. “You’re welcome. The blue brings out your eyes. It’s the entire reason I picked it.”
How difficult was it for a person to say thank you ? Kate managed it perfectly fine. It was natural for her. Effortless. Polite.
But Lex…
Morgan’s teeth ground against the fork as he set it back onto the plate with more force than necessary.
This was getting ridiculous .
Kate dropped her eyes, her fingers circling the base of her wine glass. First clockwise. Then counterclockwise. Repeatedly.
“You seem distracted,” she said softly.
“You think I’m distracted?”
It was a petty thing to turn into a power show, but maybe it would quell that gnawing feeling for a little while.
Kate hesitated, the glass partway to her mouth. “I… I didn’t mean anything by it. I just thought—”
“Don’t think.”
Her lips snapped shut. She swallowed hard, her fingers whitening around the stem before she carefully set it down.
Morgan’s gaze lingered on her face. Not even her lipstick was out of place. The sharp coil in his chest constricted tighter, that relentless claw pulling him down. She was perfect—serene, submissive, everything he had shaped her to be. Yet it wasn’t enough. It never had been.
The feeling remained, like a dull blade against bone, biting deeper with each second. It wasn’t Kate’s fault—he knew that. But knowing didn’t dull the edge.
It wasn’t Kate who had haunted his thoughts the past two nights. It wasn’t her words he dissected inside his head.
He dragged his eyes back to his plate, the food tasteless, lifeless, plastic. He cut another piece of chicken but didn’t eat it.
This was a waste. Worse than a waste, it was a farce.
“I’ll help you clean up,” he said, pushing his chair back. It was an excuse to move, to do something other than sit here, suffocating under the weight of his own thoughts.
There was just one more thing Morgan had to do before he could lose himself in sleep.
As always, Lex’s door— Morgan’s old door —was shut. The sight annoyed him. Lex kept it perpetually closed as if he were guarding a secret too dangerous for the waking world.
Shifting the familiar weight of the supplies under his arm, he knocked twice.
It took less than a second for Lex to answer. Was he waiting? Probably.
Lex stepped aside, his eyes burning into the back of Morgan’s head. Some sad excuse for a predator, waiting to pounce.
Morgan ignored it—ignored him—setting the roll of bandages, gauze, bottle, knife, and gloves down on the nightstand. He pointed to the bed.
This was their routine.
He would inspect the wounds on Lex’s wrists and leg, ensure they weren’t worsening, clean and wrap them, and then leave.
Four days of the same thing.
Of watching Lex watch him . Of stamping down the urge to peel off every piece of that tan flesh until he could bury his fingers inside the smooth, sweeping muscles beneath.
“I was about to bring my plate down,” Lex said, dropping onto the bed with too much flourish.
“Later.”
“You gonna admit I’m right yet? ”
One glove half on his hand, Morgan had to stop. His eyes closed briefly, a quiet exhale passing his lips. Patience, measured and practiced, held him as he opened his eyes again. He didn’t need to recite the furniture of this room.
“No. You’re not.”
Lex leaned back on his hands, the smirk cutting across his face. “Jesus, you’re stubborn.”
If that wasn’t an appeal to hypocrisy…
“Take off your pants,” Morgan muttered, pulling on the other glove. “I’m wasting my time with you.”
“That’s bullshit. We both know that’s just some excuse to avoid telling the truth. You’re treating me like crap because you can’t face facts. Fess up.”
“Fine. If you’re so unhappy here, there’s the door.”
Standing, Lex froze mid-motion, his fingers on the hem of his sweatpants. He kicked both legs free but when he sat back down, his expression was tight and uneven, like he couldn’t decide whether to argue or crumble. His throat bobbed with a swallow, and all the fight drained from his face.
“What..?” he asked finally, barely audible.
“You wanted to leave the first day, didn’t you? Here’s your chance.” Morgan snapped off one of the gloves. “I’ve given you what you asked for. And you’re ungrateful. I’m not about to play with someone like that. So, go. Now.”
Lex’s shoulders tensed as he pulled his leg to his chest, fingertips grazing the red brand on his thigh. His eyes stuck there, hesitant and absent-minded. He did exactly what Morgan expected. Nothing .
“Well?” Morgan prompted when Lex stayed uncharacteristically quiet.
Lex didn’t look up, palms rubbing against his bare skin. “I don’t… I don’t want to.”
“You want the money, don’t you? It’s the entire reason you’re here. I’ll give you your half when it’s due. No questions asked.”
“Morgan, stop—”
“What am I stopping for? Isn’t this your truth? What am I missing?”
“Everything,” Lex mumbled, the word coming out soft, almost broken.
It took all of Morgan’s self-control to keep his expression neutral. Because if Lex had tried to leave? Morgan would have killed him before he got to the door. That much he knew with unflinching certainty.
And that would’ve destroyed all the fun plans he had in mind.
“I just…” Lex trailed off. He dropped his foot to the floor, socks shifting against the carpet. “I wish you’d act differently toward me. If you don’t hate me, then… forget it. I don’t know anymore. But the day I met you is when my life changed. You’ve always been everything I wanted to be. I am a person, Morgan. I’m not a thing or a fucking corpse. I have feelings, too.”
Morgan scoffed. “You still feel this way even after I’ve hurt you? Why am I finding that very difficult to believe?”
“Have you ever done that before, Morgan? Have you ever given someone that much attention? Or has it always been a few hours in the woods? ”
How Lex could sit there and think he understood anything… it was laughable. Shocking , but laughable.
Lex must have mistaken the silence for something else because a little smile curved his lips. “I’m the first one, aren’t I?”
Without hesitation, Morgan grabbed a fistful of Lex’s hair and yanked his head back. The startled, muted sound of pain was satisfying in a different way, Lex’s wide eyes jerking up to meet his.
“You want to know a secret, little brother?” he whispered. “The day I met you is when my life changed too. I wanted to wipe that smile off your face. I wanted to break down every eager, optimistic word out of your mouth.”
He leaned down, enough to feel the faint tremor in Lex’s body, to hear the hitch in his breath as it caught.
“But you were a child,” Morgan continued, the confession unhurried, “and I couldn’t hurt you. So I hurt other people.”
Letting the words sink in, he watched Lex’s brow furrow. At least one of the points was hitting their intended target.
“How does it feel knowing you’re the catalyst? That every person I’ve taken into the woods is because of you? Your stupid fascination with me is what fueled my violence.”
Lex licked his lips, so close his tongue grazed Morgan’s mouth before darting back in. Awfully shy for the usual bravado he wore like armor. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because you think you know me. You think you understand what I’m capable of. The only thing you know is what I allow you to see. So keep in mind this: you’re not special. You’re living in a fantasy. After the six months are over, I will kill you. It’ll be my greatest pleasure and I want to take my time. ”
Morgan had expected a response. Tears. Fear. That annoying, spiteful mouth spitting out venom or innocence—the two things his little brother had in spades.
But it didn’t come.
There was simply silence.
Lex held his gaze for a second more— lips parting as if words would spill out—and then it scurried away. A mouse hiding from a cat.
Untangling his fingers from Lex’s hair, Morgan took a step back. His pulse pounded in his ears, fast and erratic like his body hadn’t caught up to the agreement of restraint. Exhaling slowly, he let his eyes stay on Lex for another agonizing moment before he relented.
The half-formed impulse of a thought stayed just out of reach, teasing the corners of his mind. He could pour the entire bottle beside him down Lex’s throat. Right now.
He could.
But not yet.
Not tonight.
That sort of death would’ve been too easy for Lex.
He pushed his hair behind his ear and snapped on the other glove. “Give me your arm.”
Lex didn’t move. His eyes were glued to the carpet, wobbling in their sockets like they wanted to pop out of his fragile little skull.
If he was shocked or scarred—whatever it was that was keeping him in this state of absolute, blissful quiet—Morgan couldn’t be bothered to care.
It didn’t matter .
He grabbed hold of Lex’s wrist, tilting the bottle onto the neatly folded gauze. The smell of pungent chlorine wafted out, and Morgan chanced a glance up—Lex still hadn’t budged.
Oh well.
Wedging the bottle between his thighs, he pressed the soaked gauze onto the red lines.
Lex twitched, trying to wrench his hand away, but Morgan tightened his hold, fingers digging in just enough to keep control.
“Holy shit, ow —ow ! Why the hell does it hurt so bad?”
The reaction was good. Better than Morgan had anticipated. And yet… it didn’t help. Not in the slightest.
Switching hands, Morgan dumped on more liquid and pressed it firmly against the other wrist, ignoring the flinch that ran through Lex’s entire arm.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, keeping his focus on gauze.
Lex’s little hisses of pain should have been more amusing.
“It hurts . Did you switch rubbing alcohol brands? Jesus, why is it spreading? ”
Morgan finally let go and Lex yanked his arms to his chest in a frantic, jerky motion. Every spot they’d touched seemed to set Lex off. He rubbed his hands over the inflamed skin—against his shirt, his neck—as if trying to find relief.
Lex’s glare lifted to meet him, his voice higher than usual. “Why does it smell like bleach?”
“You just now noticed that?” Morgan asked as he set the supplies back down. Where was the satisfaction? He should have been laughing, should have been enjoying himself .
“Oh come on, little brother. It smells terrible. Even a toddler would’ve noticed something was wrong the second I poured it.”
Lex’s hand shot out, slamming into Morgan’s arm with enough force to tilt him sideways. The impact should have hurt but it didn’t.
The knowledge crawled up Morgan’s spine, settling between vertebrae and nerves that refused to listen.
Another thing in his life he couldn’t control.
Another thing hovering, just out of reach.
His fingers curled around the knife, the handle unfamiliar—he wouldn’t use his own for a task like this. His was sacred. Personal. This knife? This one could have been used to cut the bandage and wrap Lex’s wrists. To finish this irritating encounter and dive into bed for a few hours of oblivion. But he didn’t.
Instead, he shoved Lex backward onto the bed.
The knife’s tip hovered centimeters from Lex’s eye before Morgan stopped himself. How easy it would have been to jam it down, to twist. To coat his childhood bed in the one blood he’d been craving for a decade. To finally quench that insatiable thirst he couldn’t escape.
And Lex?
Lex didn’t look scared.
He didn’t begin begging for his life like he had at the cabin. There weren’t those lovely, salty tears or pleas.
No.
Those blue eyes only widened, pupils dilating until the black almost swallowed the color whole. His hands didn’t push him away, didn’t claw to save himself .
They pressed into Morgan’s chest. His fingers trembled, leaving little vibrations in their wake. Slowly, they slid downward, and warmth uncurled in the pit of Morgan’s stomach.
And then Lex pulled them back to himself, the scritch of nails against flesh amplified.
“Do you want me to kill you?” Morgan asked quietly. He lowered himself down, legs nudging under Lex’s knees until their bodies were nearly pressed together. Breathing in the scent of bleach and musk sent his head spinning. “Do you have a death wish, little brother? Are you asking me to grant it?”
“No,” Lex whispered, so low and breathy it almost didn’t sound like a word.
“Do you want me to do something else to you?”
The scratching sound stopped, but Lex didn’t answer.
He didn’t need to.
His body gave him away when Morgan rolled his hips forward. Lex was hard beneath his boxers and the friction? The friction was glorious, sweeping through Morgan’s cock until it practically begged to be released; an electric wave radiating to his toes, sharp and all-consuming.
Lex’s teeth sank into his lower lip, his gaze never wavering from Morgan’s, as if this was some kind of challenge. Another game they were playing. One more match of wills.
Morgan smirked. “Tell me you like this. Let me hear you say it.”
Nothing.
Another roll. Another small, insignificant grind that had those pale lashes almost fluttering shut, too delicate against the steel .
There was that thrill he had been missing. That rush of power made his mouth water and turned his dull, drab world to technicolor, shivering and morphing on the edge of his vision.
Maybe he could play with Lex a little longer. Carve something into that pretty face, something that would last forever.
Morgan shifted the weight of the knife in his hand, adjusting his grip on the handle that had become too slick.
That’s all it took
Lex’s elbow caught the inside of Morgan’s arm with a speed that all but toppled him over. The knife—the same one he had nearly driven into his Lex’s eye—fell onto the bed.
But it didn’t stay there for long.
It was in Lex’s hand before Morgan could react, the blade pressed flush against his throat.
“Get out, Morgan.” Lex’s words cut deeper than the knife itself, more real than the drops of Morgan’s own blood that he watched drip onto the white T-shirt below him.
“Do it,” Morgan whispered. “Kill me. I dare you. Right now, we’ll forget our rules.”
Lex’s fingers tightened around the black handle until those tan knuckles turned white. For a moment, he stayed frozen, the tension humming in the space between them.
Then he tossed the knife off the bed.
Skittering out from under Morgan, Lex pressed his back flat against the headboard. His knees drew up to his chest and the delightful little rise and fall of his chest was more amusing than any bleach stunt could have been.
“Get out,” he repeated, but it lacked the same bite .
Who knew such little contact could turn him into this trembling mess? Pathetic and so obviously needy.
Who knew his little brother would let him do whatever he wanted if there was pleasure involved?
But that silence… the one time Morgan actually wanted him to talk—to admit he wanted to be touched—he didn’t. Getting Lex to crack was going to be a new, private game. That composure couldn’t last forever.
And if all of Lex’s responses were this appealing? Morgan was going to have so much fun with him.