When noon came, the little cabin in the woods they called home was quiet. It was unusual, and after the immediate suspicion, Colt wondered if his children had gone out for the day.
"My head is spinning..." Colt groaned, but his hand was on his swishing stomach.
When he registered the warmth beside him, however, a grin came to his face. Colt slowly opened his eyes, wincing under the slap of light drooling in from the window across from the large bed. He turned his vertigo-ridden head to see Mort lying back with his lips parted. The smaller man had his arm draped over him-- dare he say-- possessively.
The grin softened into a more passionate smile, and suddenly the world stopped spinning. It stood still.
By then, Colt had absolutely succumbed to just how helplessly in love he was with his Mort. Sometimes, between the running and the bickering and the robbing and killing, he liked to close his eyes and imagine that they were in that paradise they dreamed of. He imagined they were on their isolated island, growing old together; they had their children and grandchildren, and Mort would sit on the porch knitting little sweaters.
Colt snorted to himself and leaned closer to Mort. He placed a feather-light kiss on his forehead.
Mort stirred for a moment, muttering about Colt being devilishly handsome (he did some translating, of course.) Despite the harsh words, Colt breathed a contented sigh and nuzzled his nose into the crook of his neck, but his deeper closeness made Mort stir again. His eyes cracked open slightly to take in the sight of his companion, and he pulled his arm away from Colt's chest.
It left Colt chilly.
"Good morning to you, too, Moody Morty," Colt huffed.
Mort grunted in response, rubbing his eyes before finally focusing on Colt.
"Morning," he muttered. He yawned then winced and held his head.
"Are you okay?" Colt asked as he turned to lay on his back.
Mort sat up in bed, rubbing the back of his neck. Colt endeared these small, intimate moments between them; he watched as his body embraced the heavenly light from the windows, and he knew that Mort was the only god he could ever worship.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," he said. "Just a little hungover, I guess." He winced again and rubbed his shoulder. "And there's this freaking kink in my shoulder. God, I'm not even 30, yet."
They chuckled at that, and Mort turned back to Colt. The sight of the man was like a low dose of aspirin. The way Colt laid back so lazily in the bed, eyes glazed over in both his hangover and his love-drunkenness-- it put an ease in his chest he hadn't had for some time. He missed seeing that handsome face looking at him like that. Colt was a feral beast, but he was his feral beast, and he gladly left his belly exposed for him.
With the heat of their locked eyes overwhelming his chest, Mort pulled away and turned away from him.
Then, Colt's smile faded.
"Come on, are you still mad at me?" He grumbled.
Mort hesitated, his gaze falling to the closed door of their bedroom, his lips forming a tight line. Colt knew something was up, and he turned his annoyed snap into a more gentle touch.
"Come on, Mort. What's bothering you, my love," he said, reaching out to touch his partner's arm. "If you're made at me for last night, I didn't mean to make you drink so much. I just wanted you to relax for once. We've been arguing a lot lately, and you always seem so on edge."
Mort looked up at him then, and Colt could see the tears forming in his eyes. Colt had only ever seen the man cry once in his life, and from that day forward he swore he would never see those tears fall again. But Mort saved himself from it. He clenched his teeth and turned away again with a smile.
It was quiet between them for a moment as they took in the muffled sounds of their children playing downstairs. Colt slowly sat up on one elbow and then all the way up until he was sitting next to his partner. He placed a hand on his cheek, and, finally, Mort met his eyes again.
"You are so damn annoying, Colt Temple," Mort muttered half-heartedly. Colt smirked; Mort was so stubborn. Then, Mort's lips began to tremble. "I want to spend the rest of my life with you," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
But it struck Colt like a rock.
Colt's heart skipped a beat at the sentiment. His arms went numb. He almost felt like he was having a heart attack, but he loved every moment of it. The thought of that look ever tearing away from him, or for the sentiment to flutter away ever again, made him want to die and live in that moment forever.
"I don't know how to tell you, but I really... You, our babies... I want to be with you forever."
"Mort," Colt breathed, leaning in to press their foreheads together. "God, you're so perfect. I love you so much."
Mort laughed then, a small but genuine laugh that made Colt's heart melt. Then, with one last glance at their bedroom door, Mort closed the gap between them and embraced the taller man. Colt froze up for a moment. He couldn't remember the last time Mort had willingly hugged him. He held him back even tighter.
"I'm just terrified every day that," Mort said into his chest, "you're going to get yourself or one of our babies killed. I don't think I could handle losing you, either from you getting killed or having to kill you myself for hurting our kids."
Colt rubbed the small of his back and laughed. He wouldn't ever admit this to him, but he had the very same fears.
"I know," he said, taking him by the chin to look at him. "Keep your faith. We have to trust each other. We're all we have."
"No matter what I might say in anger or frustration," Mort whispered. "I will die in my faith for you."
And that was about the closest to an 'I love you' as he ever would come.
Colt was not easily mesmerized, but, as his partner stared him in the eyes with all his conviction, he was helplessly hypnotized.
"That's why I love you, Mort," Colt mused. "I love you with so much of my heart that none is left to protest. Stars, hide your fires; let light not see my black and deep desires."
Mort's smile turned into laughter, and he looked at Colt with adoration.
"I hate Shakespeare," he said.
With that, they closed the final gaps between them with a contented kiss.
Mort grasped Colt by his collar and tightened it around his neck. Colt smirked into the kiss, lowering his hands from the small of his partner's back to get a grasp on his rear. The smaller man responded in kind with a tug of his curly blond locks. The tug broke their kiss to allow Colt to moan with his head back.
Mort's brow flicked, and Colt covered his coy mouth as he watched his partner stand up from the bed and ghost toward their door. The fire still smoldered in his stomach as he watched him, expecting the man to run away like always to occupy himself with something else.
Click.
The sound of the door knob locking made the pounding in his chest shoot up into his ears. Colt's face flushed. He swallowed, eyeing Mort on his predatory stroll back to the bed. Mort slid off his shirt and tossed it at his face. By the time Colt removed it, his shorts were gone, too.
Honor and majesty are before Him; Strength and gladness are in His place.
"What are you doing, my love?" Colt asked him breathlessly.
Colt's heart pounded in his ears as his lover slowly stepped toward the bed again, and all the pieces of his arousal began to click into place. He shuddered. He knew now what had made Mort hesitate, and that little hesitance was now gone.
In the privacy of their little room, in their little houseâ away from the prying eyes of a world that judged too harshly and so often paralyzed his dear Mortâ the usually prudish man now crawled across their bedsheet. His dark, venomous eyes paralyzed him in place and made his blood boil with desire.
Mort pinned Colt down and straddled him, his slender figure regal as he looked down at him. Colt groaned at the sight. Mort smirked at his response, having obviously forgotten just how powerful an affect he had on him.
Colt, the enigmatic god of debauchery and cunning, had only one weakness, and it was Mort.
Mort ran his fingers through Colt's dusty hair for a moment before tugging on it, causing him to arch his head back. Colt hummed at the roughness, instinctively driving his hips against Mort's rear. Mort could feel the heat and thick contour of Colt's desire, and it egged him on.
"It's been so long," Colt sang. He ran his hands over Mort's soft chest. "What are you going to do to make it up to me?"
Mort smirked predatorily again, leaning in close to Colt's ear. Colt gripped the sheets.
"We're going to fuck like rabbits."
Colt shuddered again and squealed happily.
There truly was no god like Mort. And he would worship him eternally.