It was impossible to know how long the kiss would have lasted, or how far the two men would have gone, if Morgan hadn't opened his eyes again, and been hit with the stark remembrance of who it was in his arms. Sweet Simon, the boy he had promised to take care of, not advantage of. Morgan was disgusted with himself, and his weakness, and pulled away.
"No," he said loudly, his voice pained. He wrenched free from the cradle of Simon's arms.
"I can't... I'm sorry."
Morgan turned, staggering down the hall and into his bedroom. The door slammed shut and he locked it behind him. With luck, Simon would forgive him and they could just pretend like it had never happened.