Chapter 119
Chapter 119
Elias ended the call on Jace. Jace let the phone slip from his fingers. It clattered against the glass desk like a gunshot in the silent office. Elias’s voice still rang in his ears.
“Goodbye, Jace.”
Three syllables and Five years of marriage collapsed into rubble. Jace stared at the darkened screen until the numbers blurred. His chest felt caved in, ribs cracked open, heart exposed and bleeding on the carpet. He tried to breathe and could not. The city lights beyond the window looked suddenly artificial, like someone had switched off the world and left only a cheap diorama behind.
He stood so fast the chair rolled back and slammed into the credenza. Keys, wallet phone—he grabbed them without thinking, without feeling his fingers. The elevator was going to take too long so he took the stairs instead, ten flights down, lungs burning by the time he hit the street. The November air slapped him hard, but it was not enough. Nothing would ever be enough again.
He walked until he found a bar he did not recognise. The bar had red neon lights inside with no sign, bass leaking through the door like a heartbeat. Perfect. He shouldered inside and ordered tequila because it hurt the most. Four shots became eight. The room tilted pleasantly. Someone laughed too close to his ear; someone else pressed against him on the tiny dance floor. Jace let them. He moved because standing still meant thinking, and thinking meant dying.
Hands on his hips, mouths on his neck but he did not care whose. He spun and grinded and drank whatever was handed to him until the music lived inside his bones and Elias’s voice was finally drowned out. Colours bled. Time skipped. At some point he was in the bathroom stall, forehead against cool tile, vomiting tequila and grief in equal measure. Then he was outside again, hailing a cab he did not remember calling.
The apartment was dark except for the lamp in the living room. Morgan was on the couch in sweatpants with his hair mussed, eyes bloodshot like he had not slept. He stood, the second Jace stumbled through the door.
“Jesus Christ, Jace.” Morgan crossed the room in three strides, catching him before his knees buckled. “I have been texting you for hours.”
Jace smelled coffee on Morgan’s breath. Jace tried to focus on his bodyguard's face and failed there were three Morgans swimming in front of him.
“I was waiting up to tell you that...,” Morgan said quietly. “I...I am sorry for the night—.”
The apology cracked something open in Jace’s chest that before Morgan could finish his words Jace kissed him. He did not want words. Words were what Elias had used to kill him. Instead, he lurched forward and crushed his mouth against Morgan’s.
Morgan made a startled sound, hands coming up to Jace’s shoulders, either pushing or pulling, Jace could not tell. The kiss was messy, desperate and all teeth, tequila and salt. Morgan tasted like home and heartbreak at the same time.
“Jace....wait—” Morgan tried to break away, palms flat against Jace’s chest. “You are wasted. You do not want this.”
“I need it,” Jace rasped. His voice sounded shredded. “I need to not feel him for five goddamn minutes. Please, Morgan.....Please.”
Morgan’s eyes searched his face in the lamplight. Whatever he saw there undid him. A shudder ran through his body and then his hands slid from pushing to gripping, fingers curling into Jace’s suit.
“Fuck,” Morgan whispered, almost too soft to hear. “Okay.”
He kissed Jace back this time, slow and deliberate, like he was afraid Jace would shatter. Jace did not want slow. He clawed at Morgan’s shirt, yanked it over his head, walked him backward down the hallway while shedding his own clothes in frantic pieces. Belt buckle clinking against hardwood. Shoes kicked aside. By the time they reached Jace’s bedroom they were both naked and breathing like they had run miles.
Morgan pushed him gently onto the bed and followed him down. Skin on skin felt like salvation and betrayal at once. Morgan’s mouth was everywhere, on Jace’s throat, collarbone, nipples, the hollow of Jace’s hip. Every touch burned clean, overwriting memory with new sensation.
When Morgan’s lips closed around Jace’s Cock, Jace’s back bowed off the mattress. He threaded shaking fingers through Morgan’s hair and held on. Pleasure coiled hot and urgent, but behind his closed eyelids he still saw Elias....Elias smiling sleepily in the morning light, Elias whispering I love you against his spine.
Morgan pulled off, reached for the lube and a condom on the nightstand with hands that only trembled slightly. He slicked his fingers, pressed one inside Jace slow and very careful. Jace hissed, pushing down greedily for more. A second finger, then a third, scissoring, stretching. Morgan watched his face the entire time, eyes dark with want and something painfully tender.
“Tell me if you need me to stop,” Morgan said.
“Don’t you dare.”
Morgan rolled the condom on, lined up, and pushed in with one long, steady thrust. The burn was perfect—sharp enough to cut through the fog of alcohol and grief. Jace wrapped his legs around Morgan’s waist and urged him deeper. They moved together hard and fast, headboard knocking the wall in a frantic rhythm. Morgan’s hand found Jace’s cock, stroking in time with his thrusts.
Sweat dripped from Morgan’s temple onto Jace’s chest. Their mouths met in sloppy, open-mouthed kisses. Jace felt the orgasm building, a white-hot wave ready to drag him under.
“Elias...” The name tore out of him on a broken moan, loud in the quiet room.
Morgan stilled for half a heartbeat, buried deep. Pain flickered across his face but he did not stop. He snapped his hips harder, driving into Jace with something close to punishment, hand tightening around Jace’s cock.
“Cum for me,” Morgan growled against his ear, voice rough. “Let it go.”
Jace shattered. The climax hit him like a fist to the sternum, vision whiting out as he spilled over Morgan’s fist and his own stomach, Elias’s name on his lips again, softer this time, almost a sob.
Morgan followed seconds later, thrusting erratically, muffling his own groan against Jace’s shoulder as he pulsed inside the condom. They stayed locked together, trembling, until the aftershocks faded.
Eventually Morgan pulled out carefully, tied off the condom, and dropped it in the trash. He lay back down and gathered Jace close without asking, as if he knew Jace would fall apart otherwise. Jace’s face was wet, sweat drenched.
Morgan pressed gentle kisses to his temple, his hair, the corner of his mouth. “I love you,” he whispered. “I really love you.”