Other afternoons were quieter.
He would sit cross-legged on the couch with his Braille Bible open, Scar stretched out beside him with his head in his lap as he read softly to him, while combing his fingers through his feathery locks.
He shared the stories that’d carried him through the darkest parts of his life—the Sermon on the Mount, Daniel in the lion’s den, the prodigal son, and one’s of courageous men who’d remained strong when life tested them.
He loved the way Scar listened while he traced delicate patterns over his thighs, sometimes asking questions, sometimes just absorbing the details.
No one interrupted their stay-in honeymoon. For a few sacred days it was all about them…and their love.
The world wouldn’t be healed overnight, missions could wait.
White Ravens
Gage
The elevator hadn’t even begun to descend, and Scar already had him pushed against the mirrored wall, arms tight around his waist.
“Hey,” Scar whispered, dragging his lips across Gage’s throat, up to his ear. “You’re my husband.”
“Yes, I am,” he answered softly.
Gage felt high. His body was still languid from days spent tangled in the sheets, exploring, learning, surrendering, and being sexed to exhaustion.
If this was what the world had been losing its mind over since the beginning of time, he understood now.
He wasn’t ashamed to be addicted to it.
Their mouths met with more passion. It didn’t take much to tip Gage over the edge, never did.
Scar pressed in harder and canted his hips as he slid his hands lower.
“Don’t start something you’re not willing to finish,” he warned with a teasing smile.
Scar huffed against his mouth. “You’re insatiable.”
“It’s your fault.”
They were still kissing when the elevator chimed.
Without breaking contact, Gage lifted his hand and slipped the elastic from Scar’s hair. The bun unraveled, and the thick, soft strands spilled down and over his shoulders.
“Dammit, Gage. I don’t want it down.”
“I do,” he fussed, combing his fingers through it. “Leave it.”
“No,” Scar growled. “Either it’s up, or I’m cutting it off.”
“You cut it,” Gage replied calmly, “and I’m cutting something else off.”
Scar scoffed. “You wouldn’t last one night.”
The elevator doors slid open.
“Gosh,” Scar’s assistant said dryly. “How do y’all sound like an old married couple already, and it hasn’t even been two weeks?”
They stepped off, their assistants falling into step at their sides.
Gage tilted his head.
