He tasted Scar back, relishing the combination of wintergreen toothpaste, the metallic tang from his split lip, and the potency of his strength.
“Touch me,” Scar said roughly. “I wanna feel the hands that just broke men’s bones, and chopped off the king’s arm, all over me.”
The way Scar spoke made him feel as strong as every other Raven and worthy of standing at his side as his partner.
In the dark, touch became everything.
Gage slid his hands down the sculpted planes of Scar’s back, tracing the old wounds, learning him his way while giving him what he asked for.
Scar gripped the bottom of Gage’s shirt and pulled it up and over his head in one smooth motion, before he drug his nose down the curve of his throat.
“You always smell so fuckin’ sweet, and your skin is too soft.” The deep rawness in Scar’s voice scraped over his sensitive skin like gravel. “Then you did that shit tonight.”
Scar tilted his hips and pressed down on him, squeezing his cock between them, the pressure sending another sharp rush up his spine.
“I can’t stop thinking about the explosion and you appearing in that doorway,” Scar said. “Hooded, in all white, like some angelic hitman.”
Gage had to take a few breaths before he could speak.
“I vowed to myself that if I became a Raven, I wouldn’t kill, that I wouldn’t hurt for the sake of hurting…but that was before they took you.”
Scar kissed him. “So I, uh…belong to you.”
“Yes. And I you.”
Scar stilled a moment before he began to move on top of him in a slow, lazy rhythm, unaware of the madness he was causing.
“Talk to me,” Scar gritted, as if every word cost him effort to keep it gentle.
Gage answered with a moan.
“Do I feel good on top of you?”
Scar drove his hips upward in a way that stroked Gage’s cock to the tip and back down.
It was so good he had to clench his jaw to keep from yelling out.
“Tell me.”
Did Scar seriously want him to talk? Now? How?
His mouth was dry and useless, his tongue stuck to the roof of it while his thoughts scrambled for words.
Scar began grinding his hips in a circle, the muscles in his back rolling beneath Gage’s palms.
Gage held his breath as he inched his shaking hands lower down Scar’s back until he got to the swell of his ass. He slid his fingers along the damp strands of hair clinging to Scar’s skin, imagining them water-darkened and slicked straight.
Gage gasped as Scar rolled his hips again. The thin material of his lounge pants did little to dull the sensation of Scar’s hard cock against his.
Scar took both his wrists in his hand and pinned his arms above his head, pressing them into the pillow.
Heat slammed through him so strong it made him dizzy.
He shouldn’t like this—being held down, pinned—but his body pulsed at the helplessness of it, at the strength in Scar’s grip.
It made something sexy and dark in him unfurl.
He bucked his hips as his cock leaked.
