Morgan sat back against the dark brown leather couch and tried not to flinch as the guy on the screen used a baseball bat to hit a baseball out of the park at a hundred and seven miles per hour. According to Phil, who’d spent a lot of time and money studying these things, someone had hit his head with the same instrument at a much higher rate of speed. Of course, Morgan’s head had been prone, braced against a solid object, and much larger.

It wasn’t the same thing at all. If he kept telling himself that, he would eventually believe it.

The important thing was that he’d survived. He’d been beaten unconscious and left for dead in a burning room. A lot of people forgot the conversations and other details surrounding their traumatic injuries. Morgan, for whatever horrible and fucked-up reasons, had not. He had remembered every horrible, grotesque, and awful detail.

He still relived them in his dreams. Jamie still remembered them too, just from his own perspective. They made one hell of a pair.

In the end, the fire Jamie dreaded had been what saved Morgan. His attackers had left him for dead and he’d accepted his imminent demise, but the fire had taken hold too quickly. Collins’ desire to avoid bullets, which were traceable, had led to his assailants absconding without ensuring his demise.

He supposed he could forgive them. They hadn’t had any reason to expect anyone to show up to rescue him. Neither had Morgan, and he would spend every day of his life giving thanks for the people who had done exactly that. Jamie, who’d noticed something was wrong and had made a stink, was first among them, of course.

But Phil, too, had pitched in. He’d seen that there was a problem as soon as Jamie had brought it to his attention. He’d also personally kept Morgan’s heart beating until the helicopter could get there, so there was that.

Ryan had also gotten involved, keeping Jamie safe and grounded, and making sure Morgan had enough oxygen going to his brain to keep himself and the little embryo deep inside him alive.

He owed all three of them a debt of gratitude far more expensive than he could ever hope to repay.

Things were better now. His leg was in a cast, and so was his arm. He could live with that. They’d washed him before they put him in a cast, so he didn’t have to cope with the scent of smoke for six to eight weeks.

His ribs were cracked and bruised, but not broken. Morgan hadn’t given much thought to the difference until it happened to him.

Mentally, the aftereffects had lasted a little longer. He’d never cared about baseball before, but he was trying to desensitize himself to the idea of bats. He knew he should probably consult a psychiatrist, or at least a therapist, about the issue, but he couldn’t make himself justify the expense.

Some old habits died hard.

Fire was a little harder to overcome. He couldn’t consciously remember the fire. He hadn’t had to see much of it.

He’d just drifted off, letting his own fear and his injuries pull him under before he could worry about it. He knew, from talking to Jamie, that he was lucky. He wished he could feel lucky.

He still had nightmares, of course. They were just abstract. He had nightmares about heat, about smoke. He dreamed about choking and about the weird crackling of the fire as it tore through the house ... but he didn’t really remember any of those things. He hadn’t been conscious for any of it.

Phil tried to tell him this was normal. He said people often forgot things, after a trauma, and that it was the brain’s way of protecting itself. He said he would remember what was important, when it was important to remember it, but that it was probably for the best that he’d forgotten.

Titus had been arrested within hours of Morgan’s being brought in. Morgan would have felt bad about that, if he’d had anything to do with it. Titus had been willing to give him a job when no one else had, and Morgan still felt loyal to him for that. He was grateful, damn it, even if it had all gone pear-shaped.

For better or for worse, Jamie, Phil, and Ryan had gotten good looks at the two bastards who’d beaten Morgan to within an inch of his life. Authorities had gone with an attempted murder charge, and Ryan still had connections behind bars. They hadn’t lasted long inside.

Part of Morgan felt guilty about that. The rest of him felt only relief. Relief was good for the baby, right? It was related to rest and relaxation?

It had been four weeks since Morgan had been rescued from the burning house, and since then he hadn’t had anything to wish for. Jamie was on a leave of absence from the real estate firm — must be nice to work someplace where you couldn’t be fired — and he’d made sure Morgan didn’t want for a damn thing.

In fact, Jamie had treated Morgan like freaking glass since the rescue. He’d carried Morgan from room to room at first, until Phil intervened and pointed out that Jamie had a head injury and probably shouldn’t be doing that.

Christ, Morgan still needed a babysitter, and he was 25.

On the other hand, with the exception of the whole “made of glass” thing, Morgan was pretty much living the high life. He didn’t have to worry about squatting anymore. He was living at Jamie’s swanky loft.

They hadn’t had any kind of official talk about their relationship yet, but Jamie insisted on referring to the master bedroom as “theirs” instead of “his.” He also referred to one of the other bedrooms as “the nursery,” and they’d talked about baby names (and agreed on Ryan Anthony).

They might not have had formal merger talks, but they were a hundred percent in sync. It was a good feeling.

For that matter, the other Roscoes couldn’t have been more welcoming. Morgan had been taught his entire life that these people were the enemy, but they treated him like a prince.

Ryan had been bringing by baby things as Marissa outgrew them, and Anthony had been going out of his way to stop by and make Morgan feel like he wasn’t alone. Marianna was helping him to set up a baby registry.

Maybe Morgan had lost one family, but he’d gained another. That felt good, too.

In point of fact, Morgan had only one thing to wish for. While Jamie had been as attentive as any lover could want, he hadn’t touched Morgan sexually since since their ordeal on the mountain. Morgan had no doubts about whether Jamie wanted their baby. He just didn’t know if Jamie would ever want him again.

To be honest, he’d understand. Jamie loved him, and he got that, but Jamie had also rescued Morgan from the thing he feared most. That was a lot to overcome, and most guys couldn’t have done it.

Morgan’s spirit rebelled at the thought of his sex life being over already, but Jamie had saved his life. He’d accept his lot.

Acceptance didn’t mean going down without a fight, though. Today they had the afternoon off, and Morgan had laid his trap well. None of the people they usually had with them were around. Morgan had made sure they would be alone together. And he’d ordered some lacy briefs to make sure his intentions were clear.

He wouldn’t be able to wear the briefs for long. Soon enough his belly would swell and distend, becoming simply huge with child. He had one shot at this, and he was going to have to take it soon. Tonight would be ideal, because Morgan was going to lose his nerve if he didn’t do something about it.

He lay in the bed now — their bed, just as Jamie insisted — and he waited. Part of him felt ridiculous. No one looked sexy in a cast, never mind two, and the briefs just added a note of the absurd to the whole thing.

At the same time, he was so full of need he thought he might burst, and those lace briefs felt perfectly naughty against his warm skin.

Jamie came home. Morgan heard him moving around down in the main room. “Hey, Morgan! You need anything?”

“Just you,” Morgan called back. He adjusted his position on the bed. He hadn’t gotten over the sheets here yet. They were a high thread count, smooth and cool, and he loved them.

Jamie’s feet pounded their way up the stairs, just before he appeared in the bedroom part of the loft. “Hey, babe. What’s up? You okay? Oh my God.”

His eyes bulged, and he staggered forward. He was staring at Morgan, one hand outstretched toward him. “You’re — I mean, look at you. What are you … um. “

Morgan blushed. “I’ve done a lot of things in my lifetime, and I’m not proud of all of them. I’ve never robbed a man of the ability to speak before.”

“The … the lace.” Jamie swallowed. “It’s the lace. It’s. I mean. And the.” He sat down on the end of the bed. “Are you sure it’s a good idea? I mean, your ribs, and your lungs, and the baby…”

Morgan could see that Jamie was into it. His pants had to be uncomfortable, and Morgan longed to give him some relief. He had to let Jamie make the first move, though. He didn’t want to spook him, and set him back.

He reached out and took Jamie’s hand instead. “Jamie, you know Phil gave me the all-clear for most activities. Marathon running is right out, and I’m okay with not getting too rough. But my ribs are healed. My lung function is pretty damn good. And Jamie, I want you.”

Jamie looked down. He looked back up at Morgan, at the black lace briefs that did nothing to hide his erection. “I’m scared,” he murmured.

“I want you too. I’ve loved having you here with me. I’ve loved sharing a bed with you and waking up every morning, seeing you safe and alive next to me. Nothing could make me happier than sharing our life together.”

“But seeing you there, in that house, the way it was? Watching them do compressions on your chest in the back of that SUV, and not knowing if it was going to work? My God, I was terrified. I’m still terrified. I’m afraid of hurting you. I’m afraid of re-breaking your ribs. I’m afraid of stopping that amazing heart of yours in its tracks. And I’m so, so scared of doing something to make us lose our baby.”

Morgan sat up and caressed his lover’s face. He brought Jamie in for a long, lingering kiss. He tasted so good, like cinnamon, and Morgan could lose himself in this alone.

“If that’s your decision I’ll honor it,” he said. “It’s just — I miss you. We’re guys. Sex is important to most of us, you know? And you’re my hero. I want to show you how much I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”

Jamie rolled his eyes at the word hero. “You saved my life, too. Are you sure you’re up for this?”

“I’m positive.” Morgan nodded. “I need you, Jamie.”

Jamie kicked his shoes off. He took off his button-up, leaving only his undershirt, and tossed his pants to the side. He crawled onto the bed from the bottom, kissing Morgan from his good ankle all the way up to the briefs.

Morgan’s eyes rolled back in his head, and he had to focus to stave off an immediate orgasm. Jamie was taking it slow, but not because he was treating Morgan like he was made of glass this time. He was teasing Morgan, working him up, and Morgan loved every second of it.

He groaned as Jamie’s hot mouth closed around his cock, over the lace. The combination of sensations was too much for him, and he gave himself up to the pleasure that awaited him. When Jamie slipped the briefs off of him Morgan sighed, but he didn’t complain or fight it. He knew Jamie had something even more incredible in mind.

Jamie reached for the nightstand and pulled out a bottle of lube. He slicked up his fingers and started working Morgan open. Morgan spread his legs as far as they would go. He wanted to give Jamie access to as much of himself as he could, making himself as much Jamie’s as humanly possible.

Jamie worked his way inside with one slow, perfect thrust. Morgan groaned, savoring the feel of his lover inside of him. The first time they’d done this had been furtive and hasty. The second had been more loving, but they’d been on a hard, dirty floor in a ratty sleeping bag.

Now they were in a bed, their bed. Morgan was full with their baby, and they had a future. This was about life, and about them, and about joy.

Morgan wrapped his good leg around Jamie’s waist. “Move, please,” he begged. “I need it.”

Jamie obliged. He didn’t slam home. Every thrust was controlled and precise. He did, however, thrust deep. Jamie knew exactly what Morgan liked, exactly what he needed, and just how to fill him up and bring him to joy.

Morgan cried out as Jamie dragged across his sweet spot, over and over. He wanted Jamie to be proud of him. He needed Jamie to see just how much he could take. He grabbed himself and squeezed, trying to stave off the inevitable and hold on as long as he could.

Jamie’s eyes were narrowed, his brow furrowed with concentration. He caught his lip in his teeth as he thrust in, again and again. He had a plan, and he wasn’t going to let up until he’d seen it through.

Even Jamie couldn’t hold on forever. His steady, deep rhythm faltered. Morgan stopped trying to stave off the explosion of energy and heat pooling in his belly. He yelled as hot ropes of come splashed across his belly, and Jamie let out a mighty groan. Morgan could feel him pulsing inside of him, letting everything go as he gave his final few thrusts.

Jamie half-collapsed on top of Morgan, just for a moment. He braced himself on his forearms, because he was afraid of crushing Morgan’s newly-healed ribs, but he rested his head on Morgan’s chest. “You’re perfect,” he breathed after a few seconds. “I can hear your heart beating.”

Morgan huffed out a little laugh and carded his fingers through Jamie’s sweaty hair. “It does that,” he murmured. “That’s its job.”

“I do this sometimes, when you’re asleep. I like to just sit here and put my head against your chest and listen to your heart. Listen to you breathe.” Jamie relaxed for a second. Then he pulled oh-so-carefully out of Morgan and padded into the bathroom.

Morgan heard water running for a moment, and Jamie returned after a few seconds with a washcloth. He carefully washed Morgan clean then leaned down to kiss Morgan again. “Thank you for saying something,” he said in a quiet voice. “I wanted to, but I was nervous. Scared. You know.”

“I do know.” Morgan toyed with the sheet. “It’s weird, you know. It’s been a long recuperation time. I’ve been worried. I was afraid you wouldn’t want me anymore, because I was useless, and I was taking so long to heal —”

Jamie laid a finger on Morgan’s lips to hush him. “I will always want you. I will want you when we’re both old and gray. I’ll want you when you’re sick. I’ll want you when you’re angry. I’ll want you when your belly is the size of the actual moon. You’re mine, Morgan. And I’m yours.”

Morgan blinked away tears of joy and embraced Jamie. “I love you,” he said, and held him close.

Jamie held him back for a few moments. Then he sat up. “This shirt is soaked,” he commented. He made a face.

It all sounded and looked very casual, but his voice had a little tremor to it that made it clear to Morgan that Jamie was about to do something momentous. Morgan watched as Jamie, with a shaking hand, lifted his sweaty tee shirt up over his head, completely baring himself to Morgan for the first time.

He turned around and lay down on his side, back to Morgan so he could be the little spoon. It was all very normal, except for the fact that Morgan was usually the little spoon when they cuddled.

Morgan looked, since he was allowed to. Jamie’s back was indeed scarred. Morgan thought he saw the effects of some surgeries, possibly skin grafts. In some places the skin was still blackened. He noted Jamie’s stiff posture, and the way Jamie’s breath had gone shallow. Jamie was scared, he realized — scared, possibly, of rejection.

The thought was laughable. How could anyone reject Jamie, least of all Morgan? He kissed a spot that looked least painful. “My God, Jamie, you’re so beautiful.” He kissed another spot. “Our baby is so lucky.”

“He is?” Morgan could hear the tears just under the surface of Jamie’s voice.

“He’s going to have the bravest, most amazing dad in the world.” He kissed another scar. “I couldn’t possibly be more in love with you if I tried, Jamie Roscoe. This baby is lucky, I’m lucky. And we’re all going to be the happiest family in the world, together.”

He wrapped an arm around Jamie’s waist, and pressed his body into Jamie’s. Jamie relaxed into his embrace. Morgan could feel him shaking, with relief and joy and silent tears. They’d both had a long road, but they’d face the one ahead together.