Chapter Thirty
White Ravens
Gage
Scar’s mouth settled on his with a tenderness he hadn’t known Scar possessed.
Gage registered it the way he did everything now, in textures and sensation. Heat first, then pressure, awe…and sensuality.
His blindness didn’t dull the feelings. It made them louder, heightened every nuance.
He was hyperaware of the care Scar used when he touched him. The way his calloused hand slid across his jaw to the back of his neck to draw him closer.
The light scrape of his stubble against his upper lip was stimulating and warm, before he eased his tongue in, slow and careful, turning the kiss into something achingly tender.
He’d never been kissed by a man, and now that he had, a comforting balm spread through his chest, one that both steadied and stimulated him.
He was startled by how intimate it was, how close it put them.
He met Scar’s pace, tasting him, and enjoying the new sensation of affection that began to make him hungry for more.
But the kiss stayed light, almost restrained, as if Scar were testing a boundary he’d never respected before.
Scar’s other hand stayed at his waist, firm but not dominating, a hold that asked him to stay because he wanted to.
Scar could’ve taken, like he said he was used to. But instead, he was touching him as if he knew he wasn’t experienced at this…that he was untouched.
He’d built his life around restraint, saying no to easy hunger and sexual temptations, around believing his flesh didn’t get to lead. But, for Scar, he’d parted his lips on reflex.
Kissing the few girls from his father’s church whom he’d taken on arranged dates couldn’t compare to what he was feeling now. He’d only kissed them because they’d leaned in with expectation, and he didn’t want to make them feel rejected—but he hadn’t desired them.
With one kiss, Scar had him craving and shaken by how right it felt…everywhere.
Scar eased back, but stayed close enough for his breath to ghost over his skin.
“I’ve wanted this,” Scar said, low and reverent. “Longer than I wanna admit.”
“I didn’t think I was allowed to want this.” Gage swallowed, tightening his fingers over Scar’s shoulders. “But I do. I want it.”
Scar exhaled roughly. “Say it again.”
“I want you,” he whispered.
“Tell me what you want.” Scar brushed his lips, so light and warm along his jaw.
“Don’t make me say it,” he moaned.
Scar kissed a line down Gage’s throat before he paused and sucked hard over his pulse.
Oh God.
“Say it,” Scar demanded.
If he opened his mouth, he felt as if everything pooling beneath his belt would burst out in a confession.
His cock thudded with an intensity he didn’t know was possible, straining rock-hard against his briefs like a live wire pulsing with high voltage.
“I want you to make me feel good,” he moaned. “Just like this. All the time.”
Forever.
Scar kissed him again.
Still gentle, still restrained as he walked them until Gage’s back connected with the wall.
Scar canted his hips forward, and Gage felt the outline of Scar’s cock pressing hot and insistent against his own.
Scar guided him down to the mat and eased him onto his back.
He didn’t flinch when Scar’s fingers touched the arms of his glasses. His movements were slow and cautious as he pulled them off.
The air cooled over his eyes, but it did nothing for the heat coursing through him.
“Your eyes are cloudy. More white-gray now instead of blue,” Scar murmured against his lips. “Like smoke trapped behind ice.”
Gage gasped. He knew the chemical treatments had changed his eye coloring—the same as it’d done Scar’s hair—but no one had described them like that.
Scar kissed his closed lids gently before he lowered down on top of him, covering him from head to toe, their bodies molding together, lining up their cocks as if they were meant to.
A jolt shot to his core, his dick throbbing in response to the friction, sending sparks of forbidden pleasure racing up his spine.
Scar licked his way back to his mouth. “I want your hands everywhere on me.”
Gladly.
Though he saw now by touch and sounds, he still remembered what Scar looked like before his sight was taken.
Broad shoulders that filled doorways, scarred hands used to break and bend men to his will, a body and posture that moved with street-bred confidence.
But nothing compared to that hard, intimidating scowl that used to make the entire block go quiet.
Gage had been drawn to it with private fascination.
Now, sight was memory and touch was his sight.
He slid his hands upward, not rushing, as he saw the shape of Scar’s throat in a new way, through the shallow rise and fall of his breath, the subtle tension held in his jaw even when he wasn’t snarling.
He pushed his cheek into Scar’s, letting his skin do the feeling there before he pressed along the side of Scar’s face, stroking the hard angles, the stubble biting lightly into his flesh as he inhaled the last remnants of cologne under his sweat.
He wove his hands into Scar’s hair, and several things shocked him.
It wasn’t the fact that he had so much, it was the feel of it. Softer than it had any right to be, a luxuriousness people spent thousands on in a salon.
Some strands were damp at the nape of his neck and near his temple, while the rest was thick and plush, the kind of beauty he wanted to keep touching.
“I was told it’s white now…like snow,” he whispered.
“Who told you about my hair?”
It took a minute for him to answer, as his mind fought through the arousal to formulate words.
“Elias,” he finally answered. “He said you don’t like it.”
“You been talking about me?”
Gage hummed as he continued combing his fingers through Scar’s hair, learning the pattern of it, loving the way it yielded.
Feels so good.
He lifted his hips, an unintentional movement that surprised him and caused heat to bloom over his throat.
“Don’t be embarrassed. Though you do look so sexy when you blush.” Scar buried his nose in his throat.
Gage responded by opening his legs and letting Scar settle deeper between them, closer…and more aligned.
Scar began to grind against him in a slow rhythm, as if he didn’t want to rush this, trying to make the moment last all night.
His mind reeled at being cherished instead of ravaged.
Scar’s body was vibrating, and he could sense how hard he was struggling to stay in control, the force that sat behind that gentleness like a loaded chamber.
He touched Scar’s neck, found his pulse there beating fast and erratic.
Scar wasn’t calm…he was choosing calm.
And that was all it took.
Gage surged up and collided with Scar’s mouth.
Scar rolled their hips together, creating slow friction and causing Gage’s body to ignite with an arousal so overwhelming it almost made him laugh at himself.
Not because it was funny.
But because his entire life, he thought he’d have to live a stoic, mundane existence like his parents, and be married to a timid, sweet little submissive wife. Living so careful and predictable—void of passion or excitement—that it didn’t feel like living at all.
As if that was what would make him a good man.
If he hadn’t been in the wrong place at the wrong time, gotten convicted, sentenced to five years, before being kidnapped, experimented on, and tortured, he would’ve never known this feeling.
He wouldn’t know how amazing, erotic, and life-changing the male body could feel between his thighs.
Life sure worked in mysterious ways.
His hands were everywhere now, just as Scar asked.
He moved in tandem with one arm hooked around Scar’s back and the other tangled in his hair. Not yanking, just anchoring, as he licked a long path beneath Scar’s ear.
Scar went rigid at the touch, as if he’d found the switch that turned him from disciplined to ravenous. Felt it in the way Scar’s tongue pressed in deeper and how he ground his hips harder.
I don’t know what to do!
He wished he did. He wanted to know how to make Scar’s control keep slipping, what the next level was after this.
So he did what he’d been doing all this time…he learned.
He let Scar’s kisses, his hands, and body teach him.
Gage broke the kiss enough to breathe, their foreheads hovering close.
The air between them was electric and charged.
Scar groaned, his chest rising and falling, trembling as if he were struggling to keep his discipline on a tight leash.
“You’re being careful.” He touched Scar’s cheek. “You don’t have to.”
Scar turned his head and brushed his lips along his palm. “Yeah, I do. I want you so bad it scares me.”
He kissed Scar again, slowly but with more heat, letting him feel he wasn’t flinching away from him, wasn’t repulsed by the anger or violence underneath his skin.
He gripped Scar’s wrist and pushed his hand lower, lower, until it was inside the waistband of his sweats.
Please.
“Fuck, Gage.”
He urged Scar’s hand farther still, until it brushed the base of his cock.
The first touch of Scar’s hot skin on him sent a jolt up his spine.
He arched his back as a cry of pleasure tried to push past his clenched teeth.
The roughness of Scar’s hand was crazy stimulating, but his touch was gentle as he stroked him lazily, stoking a fire that was already burning.
Gage spread his legs wider in invitation and a plea for more.
Scar took the hint, licking along his neck, leaving searing wet trails drawn out enough to be cruel.
The combination of Scar’s mouth and touch was too much, and his moans became louder and more desperate until he was too aware of his own skin, breath, pulse, of how badly he needed.
Scar began to jerk him with more urgency as he ground his own cock against Gage’s thigh.
“Your dick is fuckin’ perfect in my hand.” Scar groaned, squeezing him just right.
Oh my—.
He realized he liked Scar’s dirty talk and curses. The crudeness should’ve shocked him in a sinful way, but instead it made his hips rise toward it as he used his mouth to coax out more.
The pressure in his balls increased until he was so close.
A sensation was building like a tsunami, stronger than anything he’d ever felt before.
Scar was reading his body like his favorite book as he brushed his calloused thumb over the head of his cock then pushed his nail against the slit.
A thrill hit the base of his spine. So powerful he thought it’d break him apart.
He came almost too hard, shaking as wave after wave of pleasure overtook him, so forceful he had to bite down on Scar’s shoulder to stifle his yelling.
He barely registered Scar’s last deep thrust, the intense shudder and long, bass-filled groan he released into his mouth before he collapsed all his weight on him.
They lay there for a long moment as their breathing slowed to normal, kissing with lazy open-mouthed panting.
He wanted to stay like this always, so he’d never lose what he’d just found and experienced for the first time.
“Tell me you choose me, and only me. Not him,” Scar managed around his gasping for air.
After what they’d just done, did Scar really think…?
“I’ve never lain beneath anyone. Never even considered it.” Gage cupped Scar’s jaw firmly. “No one…except you.”
“Gage.” Scar shook his head. “I know…but you deserve better than me.”
“You let me choose what I deserve,” he said sternly.
He held Scar tightly enough to feel his heart pounding against his own.
Too soon, the sounds around him came back into focus, and reality crept in with its harsh reminder that the world was not made of just the two of them.
They had a job to do— missions, purpose, and a vow of brotherhood to uphold.
When they finally pulled apart, nothing about Gage was the same, or how he felt about Scar.
What his partner ignited inside him was only the beginning of who and what they were going to be to each other.