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“And then you were just… there. And you changed everything.” Tristan gripped Mort’s hand. “You are everything to me. And I know they say that’s not healthy, you should have self-worth, blah blah blah, but the truth is, healthy people have people. It’s how we’re made. Being alone, being outcast? That makes us sick.”
“You’re very wise,” Mort said.
“Thank you. And I guess I wasn’t alone, after all. I got help that night I killed the guy. I always thought I just got crazy lucky. Can’t believe a god was looking out for me.”
“Looking out for you. Hm. That is one way to perceive it.”
“He saved my life.”
“I saved your life,” Mort rejoined.
“True, but you haven’t hidden any bodies for me yet.” Tristan was kidding, but Mort was not. He hated being compared to Loki, especially as the god’s seal still lingered on the back of his neck.
“Oh, come on.” Tristan nudged Mort when Mort fell sullenly silent. “You’re so sensitive.”
“Yes. I am. I am sensitive that I tried to get his mark off you, and ended up with it on myself.”
Tristan leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “You might have got your ass kicked, but you looked hot as fuck,” Tristan confessed. “You look better getting beaten than most people look winning. Trust me, I know.”
“I will always fight for you.” Mort turned, gripped Tristan and pulled him close, breathing against Tristan’s neck. “No matter how it makes me look.”
“That’s good. I might need backup, though, given how you fight.” Tristan smirked as he spoke, shamelessly giving Mort shit in the way only lovers can.
“I’ve let you get away with far too much disrespect,” Mort laughed, lunging for Tristan.
Tristan squirmed and fought back. Together they tussled, rolling down the front steps and into the dust like a pair of scrappy boys, laughing and cursing at each other until Tristan pinned Mort - and Mort discovered he could not get up.
They realized it in the same instant. Tristan was stronger. Tristan saw the realization dawn in Mort’s eyes, quickly followed by deep fear.
Tris let Mort go, mostly to relieve the panic Mort was clearly experiencing, not to mention humiliation. There was a small part of him that wanted to press the advantage, show Mort how it felt to be small and to be made submissive. But Tris loved Mort too much for that, and knew how much Mort’s dominance meant to him.
Mort got to his feet, breathing hard.
“Well,” he said. “That’s that then, isn’t it.”
“That’s what, then?”
“I’m not immortal, and I’m not even physically stronger than you. I can no longer provide you with any dominant guidance. I am useless to you.”
“Cut it out,” Tristan said, sounding more dominant than he intended. “That’s not how any of this works. I was never with you because I understood immortality or was impressed with your strength.”
“I can no longer hold you against your will.”
Mort said that like it was a bad thing.
“Mort, you never held me against my will,” Tristan said. “I know that’s hard to believe because I seemed like such a fuck up, and you were literally immortal, but trust me, you never did anything I didn’t agree to, or at least want.”
He reached for Mort’s hand and pulled him close.
“You gave up everything you were for me. I’m not going to forget that. I owe you my life. And now I owe you your life, too.”
“I want to be dominant,” Mort muttered under his breath.
God, he was absolutely adorable when he couldn’t be in charge. The sulky, spoiled dom who’d had everything handed to him on a plate of immortality. Tristan loved Mort very much, and because he loved Mort, he had no intention of letting this shit slide.
“You know, I’ve heard it’s good for dominant people to learn what it is like to submit. It makes them better dominants.”
Mort eyed him warily with a dark, concerned eyes.
“Maybe…” Tristan said, making Mort’s worst fears come true, but with all the love in the world. “… it’s time you got on your knees for me.”
Mort blushed. And it was adorable, the way the pale skin of his face turned a bright red. The way Mort suddenly avoided his gaze. Tristan suddenly understood the appeal of dominance. It didn’t just mean he got to be in charge. It meant he got to look after Mort too.
“I’m not going to do that,” Mort said, glancing briefly at Tristan.
They both knew Tristan could make him if he wanted.
“Why not?”
“Because I am in charge of you. I saved you. You are the reckless one who needs guidance, not me!”
Tristan replied calmly. “Which one of us got his ass kicked by a god because he lost his temper and just went apeshit? Maybe the reason we get along so well is because we’re not really that different.”
