Morning light was a subtle thing in the Starlight quarters. The overhead sky was still dark but the lower edges of the room blushed with soft rose and pale blues. Morgan and Marcus both quickly grew accustomed to waking up warm in the half light to Shaun's kisses, the seductive aroma of coffee and the rich scent of the spiced tea that Shaun drank to start his day.

Father and son ventured out, at least twice daily, for long walks through the landscaped countryside. Outside, winter reigned. There was snow on the Palace grounds. They walked cleared paths through the gardens, seldom meeting others.

A month, Morgan thought, three more weeks. Not enough time. His eyes played over the snowy border of the path they quietly tread. His son was coming to life -- in ways Morgan never thought he'd see. The boy was unendingly fascinated by Shaun, stimulated by him in ways that had little to do with sex, and then again, he thought, a lot to do with it. Their sex play spilled into other games and back again.

Morgan wasn't surprised that Marcus spent dreamy hours brushing Shaun's luxurious hair or listening to him sing, but there was so much more. Marcus and Shaun played games together that amazed him. They played with dice, with dolls, and Shaun had introduced Marcus to paints. More and more, Marcus left his side, holding onto Shaun. Shaun seemed to welcome it, adapting easily to moving with a clinging shadow.

Another client had already purchased the Starlight Key for the following month. The thought of it made Morgan almost physically ill. I must do something, he swore to himself as they made their way deeper into the snowy garden. I've got do something soon.

It wasn't just for his son's sake, though he preferred to think about what it meant for Marcus. The truth was more complicated. He could think with ease about what Shaun meant to his son; the rest was harder.

He felt the tug of Marcus's arms tightening around him, and stopped. Marcus was bundled up in a heavy coat, with a scarf wound around him from neck to nose. A thick woolen hat covered him down to his brows; the boy was all rosy cheeks, pink nose and wide eyes looking up at him. Morgan smiled at the sight, and thought Marcus must want to turn around and head back indoors. But Marcus wasn't urging him to turn around. He was lifting his chin up out of the scarf, his eyes full of intent that Morgan couldn't read. His breath puffed white in the cold air when he opened his mouth.

"Daddy," he said in a voice like a rasped whisper. Morgan stared, disbelieving his ears, and Marcus stared back at him, eyes blazing. He coughed and his face clouded with panic, then he started choking on tears, reaching up to be held.

"Baby, sweet baby," Morgan said, lifting the clamoring body into his arms, Marcus's legs and arms locking around him. He covered every bare inch of his son's face with kisses, enraptured by the echo of the spoken word even as he tried desperately to soothe the crying. Marcus wept like his heart was breaking, gulping for air between sobs, thrusting his face into Morgan's kisses as if he could batter his way into his father's mouth. "It's okay," Morgan said. He said it over and over until at last the crying softened to whimpers and the boy hung weakly against him, his hot face pressed to Morgan's cheek. Morgan walked slowly toward the Palace, blinking through his own tears, warmed by Marcus's breath, his lips; still hearing the raspy voice in his mind.

By the time they reached the Palace, Marcus was walking again, but buried deep inside Morgan's coat, with his own coat open. He'd grown restless in Morgan's arms and wriggled down to his feet, pulling uselessly at his own buttons and Morgan's with mittened fingers. Morgan knew what he wanted and helped him to get as close as he could. It was how they'd walked together years before, when Marcus could not tolerate the distance of bundled clothing between them. Their first outings in winter had been with Marcus literally inside his coat with him.

The door opened into the soft, darkness of Shaun's room. Shaun was not there. It was too early for him to be back from his daily training session. Morgan sighed, feeling Marcus's grip tighten around him as the boy craned his head, looking for the Key.

"He'll be back soon," Morgan said, and Marcus hid his disappointed face against him. He began slowly easing them out of their layers of clothes. Soon. It was still true now, Morgan thought with the weight of dread in his heart. Three weeks and he'd have to explain to Marcus that they were leaving Shaun. //Oh God, I've got to do something!//

The joy of hearing his son speak seemed like an impossible, receding dream. But it had happened! He 22thought of Emery and wished for the hundredth time that she was there. He wished Shaun was with them. Marcus had spoken -- he'd heard him plain as day.

He's scared now, Morgan thought, wondering what had unlocked his son's voice and what terrors had been unlocked with it. Morgan kissed the top of Marcus's head, running his hands down the now bare back.

"We'll take a bath, sweetheart," he said, hoping the hot water and the massage of soaping would ease him. "Shaun will come soon."

The Starlight bathroom shimmered with the same low, magical light as the rest of Shaun's suite. Its vast sunken tub was edged with tiny stars and submerged blue lights glowed through the rippling water. Morgan tipped a few drops of Shaun's aromatic bath oil into it, making the steamy air delicious to breathe. Marcus was sullen, his eyes teary, and his clinging was, sadly, more intense than it had been in a very long time.

Morgan needed to relieve himself and tried to gently ease Marcus aside from the front of his body. Marcus stubbornly hung on.

"Baby, you know how we do this," he said. Marcus butted his head hard into Morgan's chest, clinging to the front of him and with a muffled whimper he suddenly started to pee himself, his soft cock pressed against Morgan's thigh.

"Oh God, Marcus," he said, despairing, feeling near tears at his son's sudden regression. He didn't try to stop him, or push him away. "It's okay, baby," he murmured but felt little hope that Marcus was understanding him. The boy was crying again and weakened against him. As well as he could, Morgan soothed him, holding him gently aside as he fumbled to empty his own bladder and wipe up the mess on the tiled floor. The bath was filled by then and he prayed that it would work its soothing magic.

Morgan relaxed against the sloped side of the bath with Marcus draped across his thighs, head snuggled close on his shoulder, crying quieted to sniffles. The boy's loosened hair floated around them.

"I love you, baby," he said, grateful for Marcus's relative calm. Movement drew his eyes. The sprightly naked form of Shaun appeared in the doorway.

"Bath time?" the Key asked.

"Yes," Morgan answered, and felt his own tension level ease at the sight of him. Morgan felt Marcus stir, sitting up slightly, turning his head to see Shaun. His expression unchanging, he nevertheless was following him with his eyes as Shaun wound his hair with a few deft twists and secured it on his head with two shiny black sticks. Shaun stepped down into the bath, moving through the water with a sigh of pleasure toward them. Morgan loved the way the Key looked with his hair fastened up, his lovely shoulders bared and his beautiful tattoo -- the flowing, elegant blue flower, exposed. More than a tattoo, Shaun had tried to explain, exhibiting it to them in the wee hours of the first night. Its tracery marked pleasure centers across his back and shoulders, so sensitive that Shaun shivered from the lightest touch there. Morgan adored seeing it, not just because it was beautiful, but because Shaun seemed more naked when he uncovered it.

Shaun was surprised that they'd gotten back to the room before he did. He'd expected to have some time to himself, some time alone with his thoughts before seeing them. But the bath scents were inviting, wafting through the room, and he moved eagerly to join them. Though he'd showered in the training room after his workout, this bath would be for pleasure.

A somber air surrounded them and Shaun felt a moment's fear, gazing at them from the threshold. He smiled when he felt Morgan's eyes caress him, somewhat reassured. But his own wistful mood still clung as he joined them in the bath tub.

Strange thoughts. For seven days, the father and son, had been part of his life. Seven days unlike any Shaun could remember. So full, so rich. To him they were sometimes Marcus and Morgan, sometimes Beauty and Handsome, and sometimes, Baby and Daddy.

He pined for them when they went walking and for the first time since he'd come to the Palace, he was restless with curiosity about the world beyond his rooms. What did they see on their walks, without him?

I have to treasure every moment I have them, he thought, banishing the growing ache he felt. He knew the dread that he felt every time they left him for their walks, was knowing the time would come when they'd bundle up in their coats and not come back at all; no more happy homecomings, the two of them rosy from the cold, as eager to be reunited with him as he with them.

He saw the signs of weeping in Marcus's face, the bruised, shadowed look of his eyes and it made his throat tighten with alarm. What could have happened?

"We had an unusual walk today," Morgan said. Shaun heard the weight of emotion roughening the man's voice, and with a clutch of pain, realized how close Morgan was to weeping.

"What happened?" he asked carefully, looking from one to the other of them.

"Marcus spoke to me." Morgan said, then he sighed, his eyes misty. "I think it scared him."

Shaun floated closer, twining an arm around Morgan as he kissed his cheek, loving its hint of roughness under his lips.

"I wish I'd been there!" he said, and was relieved to hear Morgan draw a deep breath, to feel his arm come around him under the water. And there was the boy, watching, alert but looking out from deep inside; distant.

Shaun glided away a little, and found Marcus's foot under the water. He caressed his toes.

"There's a fish in this pond," he said, lifting the foot until it broke the surface. "Look how pretty it is. Mm, and I'm hungry." He sucked a toe into his mouth and nibbled it gently, watching Marcus's eyes widen and his face transform with pleasure. The boy's lips pressed together, and he leaned toward the Key.

"Uh oh," Shaun said. "Baby's mouth is jealous of his toe."

He floated closer to him to kiss. He felt the tickle of breath from Marcus's nose. He had a way of kissing, Shaun thought, that was all his own, in spite of Morgan's teasing that Shaun had trained his son to kiss like a Key. Marcus's kiss was as singular as everything else about him. It was selfish, in a way. It varied, like any lover's, from endless soft games with the tip of his tongue, to blatant fucking with his tongue -- but always, it was artless, demanding exactly what he wanted. The way he purely expressed his need was powerfully arousing to Shaun.

Morgan's kisses were very different, much more guarded. Shaun could feel the conflicts, almost hear the wheels spinning in Morgan's brain through his lips. Shaun had to work harder, to tease and seduce him into letting go.

Marcus was excited now, rasping at Shaun's lips and tongue with his, pushing at him with a rocking motion of his chin like he wanted to nurse on him. Shaun held on to him, cupping his hands on Marcus's head, and felt the boy let go of his father, a hand seeking down Shaun's side to his waist, trying to pull him into his lap.

In the buoyant warm water Morgan had both of them, light and slippery and twined together, on his lap. Marcus had gotten both more calm and aroused once he had Shaun close, with the Key's legs around him and Morgan still holding him, stroking his back.

It was impossible to think of giving this up. It couldn't happen, Morgan thought, he couldn't let it happen. He was plagued by a hundred heavy thoughts, but rapidly losing the ability to concentrate as he felt Shaun's thigh press against his hardening cock, sliding along the underside of his shaft.

Marcus's lips were open, swollen and wet from kissing when he turned to him, eyes beseeching.

"What baby? I love you," Morgan said, his hand tracing down his son's backbone to settle at the base of his spine.

"Kiss him," Shaun said. "He wants you to."

Is that what Marcus's dark eyes were asking for? Morgan's eyes fell to his son's open mouth. He felt a warning tension in his brows and a flush of desire tingling through his own lips at the thought of it. Shaun leaned into him, his arm sliding around Morgan's neck and the tension bled away, feeling the Key's skin slide against him, the teasing light weight of him in the water.

"Kiss him," Shaun said it again, but Morgan turned his face to kiss Shaun instead, whose face was close and whose mouth was safe; pink and moist and incredibly warm. But Shaun only let Morgan kiss him for a moment, pulling his head back, showing dimples with his smile. "Not me, daddy," he said, "him."

Morgan's gears shifted, hearing the 'daddy,' in his head, spoken by Marcus. It struck him that Marcus might have said the word to imitate Shaun. Not just from memory.

Kiss him. It was like being told by Emery, "Hold him."