Chapter Text
Rebuilding takes time. That applies not only to the ruïns in the aftermath of the battle against Noxus but also the relationship between Piltover and Zaun. Though the war against Noxus is over, the tension between the two sister cities still exists, and the current peace is fragile. One does not remove their long held beliefs, distrust and prejudices within a few months.
Scar is sceptical when Sevika took up a position in the Council. After all, she was complicit in helping Silco poison the people of the Undercity with Shimmer. They didn’t really have a choice in who would be Zaun’s representative anyway. He is not surprised, she has always been eager to work for the one wielding the most power. It is only natural she would make the move to take the seat at the Council, he supposes.
Nonetheless, Sevika does end up putting in the effort to make changes in benefit for Zaun. From what Scar can tell, the border between the two cities has fully opened and Piltover has been supplying them with the bare necessities. It is enough for people to survive and start the process of picking up where they left off.
It does not mean they have enough.
The people are uncertain about what the future has in store for them. Scar feels this uncertainty when holding his daughter in his arms, letting her bite his metal claws with her newly developed teeth. He’s determined to do everything in his power to ensure a better future for her. A better future for her and the other Firelights.
And somehow that led to him walking the streets of Zaun with a Piltovian enforcer, playing babysitter.
They received a message from Sevika requesting their help in conducting a survey of the different neighbourhoods of Zaun to adequately estimate where aid was needed. Scar very reluctantly took up the job of being one of the Zaunites accompanying an enforcer. A compromise made to appease the rest of the Council. After all, topside still didn’t trust them enough to do it on their own, under the guise of ‘collaboration’ and ‘unity’.
A better future , Scar reminded himself as he flew through the thick city air on his hoverboard. He soared through the sky with practised ease, slowly descending.
Awaiting him by the bridge was a fishfolk, and telling from his uniform he was of a higher rank. His posture was perfect in a way that reeked of Piltover and his hands were carefully placed behind his back. Scar wondered if he had any hair under that hat of his.
The enforcer's face remained neutral as he approached, greeting him only with a curt nod.
“Council sent you?”
Another nod.
“...The name is Scar.”
A nod again. Scar thought he could see a third eyelid quickly move across the other’s blue eyes.
Feeling unnerved by being subjected to the other’s intense stare and the lack of response, he sighed, “You got a name, fins?”
The enforcer's eyes dart from side to side and his handsome face contorts into a difficult expression. The fins under his eyes stirred slightly.
“What, you think you’re too good to talk to a Zaunite?” Scar grunts. It’s not like he’s unfamiliar with receiving hostility from people of the Upper City but he wasn’t expecting to be outright ignored.
The vastayan man freed his hands from his back, his blue eyes still trained on him.
“My name is Steb.”
Ah.
He makes a low nose in reply, feeling a slight awkwardness settling in between them.
“Alright Steb, come on,” Scar says, turning his back to him to leave without looking if he was following him. The other’s footsteps are so light it does make Scar wonder if he’s actually behind him more than once.
Fine. He's stuck with a Piltovian enforcer who doesn't talk but perhaps that's a blessing. He’d rather have this than the alternative. At least he's easy on the eyes.
***
The streets of Zaun have not changed much since before the war. The people are still scraping by with what they have to survive. Despite that, there is a cautious feeling of hope in the air. Hope that the current efforts of Piltover aren’t just a one-time thing, that maybe it is possible for the two cities to peacefully coexist.
They work methodologically through the various streets, noting down where and what kind of help is needed. It’s mostly Scar leading the way, being more familiar with the city, with Steb following behind him. It really does feel like he’s on a babysitter job. He’d rather be looking after his own daughter than an enforcer.
Scar decided to break the long silence between them, kicking an empty can on the street.
“So, did they send you down here as a punishment, officer? Or were you just the unlucky one of the bunch?”
“I volunteered to take the job. ” Steb turned to look at him, face still keeping a blank expression. “It’s captain, by the way ”.
Scar snorts. Pilties and their attachments to titles.
When they turn around the corner, they see a kid scurrying away behind a support beam of a closed storefront, dropping something in the process. They walk towards it to take a look. It’s clearly something put together by a child, guessing from the differently assembled pieces of metal and wood to resemble something akin to a horse. Some loose parts stick out, likely from constant handling.
Steb picks it up from the ground, looking for the owner of the lost item but they stay put in their hiding place. Taking one step forward, the kid takes another step back, trying to conceal their whole body behind the beam. Steb purses his lips.
Scar walks over and gently takes the toy from his hand, carefully walking towards where the kid is hiding. “Hey sprout, this yours?” He says while kneeling down.
Two eyes peek from behind the support beam, revealing a small head of curls in the process. They dart from Scar to Steb and back to Scar before timidly taking back the horse toy presented in Scar’s large hand. Once grabbed, they quickly ran away from behind the beam down the street into another alleyway.
Scar looks back at Steb.
“I assume the streets aren’t usually this empty .”
“It’s the uniform, bluey.” The Chirean crosses his arms. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed but people down here aren’t that fond of enforcers walking through their neighbourhoods. They see you and think you’re here to raid their homes and send them to Stillwater.”
Scar interrupts him before Steb can sign again, taking a step towards him. “But it’s what people think. No matter what your intentions are, the fact is that people distrust lot like you.” Steb’s eyebrows furrow and he drops his hands to his side.
“Just let me do the talking when it comes to it, alright?” He ignores the irony of his words.
Steb meets his eyes with a glare as he grabs his notebook to work through the rest of the street.
The rest of the shift passes by relatively uneventfully and they don’t exchange any more words than is necessary.
At the bridge they say their goodbyes. The sun is starting to set, casting everything around them in a warm glow.
“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then?” He asks.
Only now does Scar notice the sharp slope of his cheekbones, drawing his eyes to the gills at his jaw. It’s a shame that he’s an enforcer, really.
“I’ll be there .”
***
The next time Steb shows up he has ditched the enforcer uniform and donned something more Zaunite. Or, well, an attempt at it, it still looked far too new and tailored for an ordinary person from the Undercity to wear but it does the job.
He’s wearing a shirt buttoned to the top, utility pants where his tonfas are fastened onto, and a brown leather jacket that doesn’t look like it has been worn that often. His boots are perfectly polished.
“Ah, so you do have hair under that hat,” Scar comments. Steb raises an eyebrow at him.
“You know, I think these clothes suit you better than that uniform. I don’t think people will believe you’re from here though.” The vastayan’s posture is as straight and impeccable as ever.
“It’s the best I could come up with in the short time frame,” he replied. “I must admit it is more comfortable but I can’t bring with me as much as before.” Steb waves his hands towards his torso to emphasize the lack of extra accessories on him, save for a brown bag slung across his shoulder.
Scar takes a few seconds to look him up and down.
He takes a step closer to him and says, “Here, let me help you look the part more.”
Steb goes stiff for a second, but allows his hands to go near him. He undoes three buttons of his shirt and pulls his jacket collar up. “There you go.” He looks pleased with his work as he goes back to take a look again.
Steb shoots him a look as he fastens one button up again.
The people are a bit more willing to tolerate Steb’s presence in his new set of clothes. It doesn’t mean they aren’t cautious. It is especially difficult to estimate how much aid is needed as very few share the amount of people living in their household. He supposes that it is only natural for them to be wary of strangers asking strange questions.
He misses his uniform. The pressure of the tight fit made him feel at ease. Fastening the many buttons and clasps every morning has become a ritual to him. His pants are too loose and his shirt sits in a way he isn’t used to. At least the weight of the bag on his shoulder counts as a comforting presence.
It is difficult and slow work, and sometimes met with hostility but Steb knows in his heart that it’s the right thing to do. A part of him wonders if it's his conscience trying to compensate for the actions he committed in Kiramman’s strike team during their hunt for Jinx. He shakes away the thought, he has no room for it in his head right now.
Working with Scar isn’t too bad, he’s agreeable enough. Though sometimes curt and straight to the point, he does appreciate that about him. It’s efficient. He’s knowledgeable about the different neighbourhoods of Zaun and is able to find a way in the maze-like streets. It’s obvious he cares a lot for his city.
Steb does sense an underlying dislike towards him during their first meeting, though he attests that more to the fact to a general dislike towards enforcers, which he understands to a certain level. If he’s honest, he isn’t the biggest fan of being an enforcer either after Maddie’s betrayal. In combination with the rampant corruption and abuse of power.
But it’s the only thing he knows and the one thing he does best, doing so well he got promoted to captain. He joined because he wanted to help people.
He sniffs the air, noticing a familiar yet foreign smell.
He taps Scar’s elbow. “What’s that smell?”
“Hm? It’s fried fish balls covered in a sweet and sour sauce. A Zaunite dish.” Ah, so he recognized the fish smell. “You interested, or is that like not-done for fishfolk?” Scar nods his head to the food stall a certain distance away.
Now that he mentions it, he is feeling slightly hungry right now. It’s been a long day after all. “It isn’t,” he signs. “I quite like the taste of fish, actually.” Steb turns to look at him.
“It’s not considered cannibalism.”
Scar opens and closes his mouth. Steb makes a mental note of the scar running diagonally across his lips.
They walk towards the source of the smell. A woman with a large build is behind the stands, frying the next batch. There’s steam coming from the freshly made pile of food, covered in a thick sauce, beckoning him to come closer.
Steb, feeling generous, bought a portion for both he and Scar. The other man hums in appreciation and accepts it without a word.
“Watch out, it’s hot,” Scar warns him a second too late after he takes a bite, burning the roof of his mouth. The man shoots him a grin as he tries to haa haa haa to cool it down and Steb can only send him a cold glare back. “Oops.” He shrugs his shoulders.
Despite losing part of his sense of taste after burning his mouth, it tastes good as far as he can tell. It reminds him of a dish from his childhood he can only vaguely recall. The outside was crispy and spices used in the sauce were exotic to him.
They sit down on a short stone wall as they share their meal in silence. This time Steb is careful to not burn his mouth again. He stares at the people walking by them, each with different paces and different destinations. He makes up stories about what they might get up to, a habit he developed during the long hours of patrolling during his junior years.
“You think the Council sending us to walk through the streets of Zaun like fools will make a real difference?” Scar asks in a low voice, snapping him out of his thoughts.
Steb stops eating to turn to Scar. He didn’t expect this question. He senses it isn’t directed only to what they were doing but to the bigger picture of Piltover and Zaun. It’s an arm reaching out to him, a sincere question. Steb takes it.
“I can’t talk for Sevika or the Council. I don’t know for certain if they’re going to follow through on their promises or if they’re going to anything with our reports. I can only believe in my own actions, and that I am doing everything I can to do the right thing,” he replied.
He would be lying if he said he was fully convinced that Piltover and Zaun could fully reconcile as if nothing happened. It would take a lot more than just dumping a few supplies here and there and calling it a day.
“The only thing I can do is have faith my actions will lead to the right consequences. ”
There’s a moment of silence.
“I suppose you have a point,” Scar says.
When the end of their shift approaches, they make their way back. The silence between them is now bearable, instead of awkward. The sun is starting to set again when they arrive at the bridge. The light hitting the back of Scar’s ears makes it glow bright red, save for the place where they’re pierced. His broad shoulders are hunched forward as always.
“See you tomorrow?”
“Same time, same place.” Scar salutes before taking off on his hoverboard, leaving a faint green light from where he took flight.
Steb watches until his form isn’t visible anymore in the sky and he turns to cross the bridge back home.
***
Scar is growing used to Steb’s silent presence next to him. They fall into a routine, slowly working their way through the Undercity. Steb will lightly grab his arm whenever he wants to say something and Scar isn’t looking. Those moments were of rare occurrence considering the vastayan was a man of few words.
The initial disdain towards him slowly transforms into a strange form of familiarity that happens when one spends a lot of time in close proximity with another person.
All enforcers could go to hell, but this one isn’t all that bad, Scar thinks. He’s still a cop though.
Steb has an incredibly diligent work ethic. Noting down everything whenever he can and making sure no detail escapes him. He has to admire his dedication to his work.
And that leather jacket really suits him well.
It’s difficult to combine his work in the streets of Zaun with taking care of his daughter and being the second-in-command of the Firelights but he tries to make do. He steps in whenever Ekko needs to take a break because god knows that boy is dealing with enough right now.
If Steb notices the growing dark circles under his eyes and his periods of inattentiveness, he doesn’t mention it.
“Your shirt. Stain. ”
Steb points his finger at his shirt where there’s a dried patch of baby food. Scar tries to pluck some of the remaining hard bits off and curses. He wasn’t looking forward to having to spot-clean when he got home. “It’s from when I fed April this morning. Was in such a rush I didn’t notice it.”
Steb’s face betrays his curiosity, but only because Scar had begun to learn how to read it.
“My daughter. She’s at the point where she’s getting fussy with her food. Always a mess.” That he wouldn’t have it any other way, is left unsaid.
The enforcer gives a barely noticeable smile. “Suits you. Being a father. ”
Scar doesn’t know how to reply to that.
Today, they moved into a deeper part of the city. It’s an area with buildings made from mismatched materials found from scraps. The streets are unusually quiet today, leaving them with less people to question than usual. The air here isn’t as clean as in the other area’s they’ve surveyed and Steb lets out an occasional cough because of it.
They end up at what seemed to be an abandoned warehouse, the windows barricaded shut with wooden beams. Scar has an inkling for what it has been used for.
“It’s probably a warehouse one of the chem-barons used to store Shimmer,” he says. “We should check it out to make sure there’s nothing left for anybody else to use.”
Steb inclines his head in agreement. When Scar moves to open the door he is met with resistance, the sound of a lock rattling from inside.
He takes a few steps back and grunts before going shoulder-first to bash against the entrance. The door slams wide open, its hinges crying loudly. It turned out to be only secured by a weak padlock.
Scar looks back to see Steb giving him a questioning look. The corners of his eyes have turned red from the irritation.
“What,” he raises an eyebrow. “It’s nobody’s property anymore. Probably.”
The other man sighs as he follows him inside.
The place is dark and unlit, only the daylight from the street being helpful in making them find their way. That is, until Steb remembers to turn on the flashlight he has brought with him.
It is mostly empty, save for a few stacked wooden crates and barrels.
Their footsteps echo in the building. Scar’s ears twitch. He stops to wipe the dust of a crate with his finger and when he turns to walk further he is stopped by Steb’s hand on his wrist. “What is it?”
In this light, he can’t really see what Steb is signing but he can tell that the vastayan is pointing at something with his light. He follows the trail of light and his eyes land on a container with its lid slightly ajar. A faint purple glow emanates from it.
Shimmer.
Before Scar can fully register it, he hears someone yell, “Run!” He whips his head around to see a figure dash for one of the exits. The Chireans body reacts before his brain does and he runs to tackle the person attempting to flee. Both bodies roll over the ground with a loud thud .
The other person manages to wiggle free from his hold and kick him in the chest in the proces. Scar grunts, standing up again. It isn’t helping that he’s running on little sleep right now, body sluggish from the late nights he made the past few weeks. If only he had his spear with him right now.
In the background he hears Steb is also engaged in a fight with someone else. Before he can turn to help he sees another person approaching him in the corner of his eye. It seems like they’re outnumbered, but he has won fights with worse odds than three against two.
The dim light makes it difficult to discern the details but Scar can tell that one of his opponents is a larger man, face covered by a mask of some kind. Scar dodges a punch from the assailant and hits him in the stomach in return, sending the man backwards to a pile of wooden crates.
He’s hit in the face right after by the other person, a vastayan woman smaller than him. Scar lets out a groan before preparing himself for another attack. He can see Steb holding the third person in place by forcing their arms behind their back with his tonfas.
Scar uses his elbow to land a hit on the woman in front of him. Before he can do anything else, a loud shot is heard in the air. He freezes, and that is when he feels an ache down his thigh. The fuckers have a gun , he realises.
His opponent takes this opportunity to throw something on the ground, causing the room to quickly fill with a thick smoke. In their attempt to flee, somebody pushes him down to the ground. He tries to grab onto them but misses, the smoke making it impossible to see where they are. Somewhere in the background he can hear Steb let out a loud groan, followed by a coughing fit. The sound of a door opening and shutting echoes through the warehouse, with quick and heavy footsteps.
“Fuck, they got away.” Scar grimaces as he comes back to his senses, the smoke already dissipating. “They must be ex-lackeys from the chem-barons trying to sell some leftover shimmer to the addicts.”
He can see Steb making his way over to him where he was lying on the ground. It seems like he was unharmed in the fight. The adrenaline slowly leaves his body and he can feel his thigh sting from where the bullet met his skin. He pushes himself from the ground in an effort to stand up.
“You’re injured. ”
“It’s fine, I’ll get someone at home to look at it.”
Steb pushes him back down onto the ground by the shoulder.
“Let me help you, ” he signs. Scar gives in.
He kneels next to him and digs in his bag looking for medical supplies.
“What should I call you, doctor or captain?” Scars snickers. Steb slaps his wounded thigh, making Scar recoil in pain and hiss.
“Captain is just fine. Take your pants off. ”
Scar complies without protest and awkwardly shimmies his pants down to his ankles. He’s not shy about undressing in front of others. “You’ve got to work on your bedside manners, really.”
It’s not a deep wound, the bullet only grazed his skin. Steb cleans it anyway with a level of professionalism that makes Scar think it isn’t the first time he’s done this. His long fingers feel cold against the skin of his thigh. After the enforcer applies clean bandages on his wound, he helps him stand up, leaving him to carefully pull up his pants and fasten them himself.
Thankfully, it doesn’t hurt a lot to walk despite the wound.
They decide to make a note to report for the warehouse to be cleaned out and to look out for any other instances of leftover Shimmer being used. It was unlikely this was an isolated case after all.
The streets of Zaun light up with neon lights as the sun is starting to set, marking the end of their shift. Normally, he would go straight home to his daughter but Scar feels like he could use some distraction after a day like this. Might help to numb the faint pain too. And he doesn’t feel like going alone.
Scar clasps Steb’s shoulder.
“I could go for a drink after all that, how about you, captain?”
Steb looks at him with those large and untelling eyes of his.
“My treat.”
“I won’t say no to a free drink. ” A hint of a smile plays on Steb’s lips.
***
Scar leads him to a small and dark bar somewhere in the city where he hasn’t been before. The lights cast a warm yellow glow on the interior, a jukebox is playing in the background. They take a seat somewhere in a far corner of the establishment, not looking to draw too much attention to themselves.
Steb couldn’t have predicted his day would end up like this.
They both order a beer and Steb’s nose scrunches up when he takes a sip from the bottle.
“What? Can’t handle your liquor?” Scar laughs.
“No, the beer here just tastes like shit .” While the food in Zaun was good, he’s not sure he’s a fan of their taste in alcohol if everything was as bad as this.
“Watch your tongue before others hear you.” He knows the other patrons aren’t able to see Steb sign from where they’re seated.
“But you’re right, the alcohol here does taste like shit.” He leans forward, resting both elbows on the table. It wobbles slightly but Steb stops it by placing the weight of his foot at the base of the table.
“If it’s strong enough you won’t be able to taste it.”
Today, Scar forwent his jacket, leaving his broad shoulders and toned arms exposed. It’s distracting really.
“Didn’t think it would be worse than what the junior officers would sneak into the barracks,” he signs, making another grimace as he takes a second sip.
Scar snorts. “Thought you guys up there would be drinking the fancy stuff. Magnolia infused wine with leaf gold dispersed in it or whatever,” he jokes.
“Not quite, but close, ” he lies to see if the other man would fall for it. “Doesn’t mean it’s any good.”
“Then what do you offer a lady when you bring her home to your place?” Steb can only give him a look.
“A gentleman, then.” He can tell Scar knows he has clocked him.
He puts down his glass. “I don’t bring anyone back. If anything, it’s work.”
“I can tell,” Scar hums and takes a big sip from his bottle.
Talking to Scar is easy. He finds himself sharing about his life at the Academy, the long hours spent patrolling the streets and the strange characters he met. Maybe it’s the alcohol, he’s usually a private person.
He even manages to talk about Loris, a great friend even if he didn’t know him that well. And he shares about Maddie. It’s the first time he has talked about how her betrayal impacted him, leaving him distrustful and unsure about his position as an enforcer. Not that he had anyone else to talk to about it until now, both of his friends died in the war. He avoids mentioning his work with Kiramman during his time in the strike team.
In return, Scar talks about the Firelights, without disclosing too much details. Steb can sense this is because he doesn’t fully trust him yet, which is fine. He clearly admires his best friend and leader and every other Firelight at home. He notices the way his eyes grow with fondness whenever he talks about his daughter. The way he describes them is so different from the image painted by the police department. He wonders what else he’s wrong about.
The time goes by fast, having gone through multiple rounds of drinks. His throat burns slightly and the lines of the room were softer than before.
“You know, you’re not as bad as I thought you would be, captain.” Scar confesses, having downed the last drink of the evening. The title doesn’t sound as mocking as it did before.
Steb hums in approval.
“Like me enough that you’ll join my enforcer team?”
“Hell no.”
***
It’s cold outside when they leave the bar. Neon street signs and lamps light the road. Scar decides to walk Steb back to the part of the city he’s more familiar with so he can return home. There’s a comfortable silence between them, only interrupted by the sound of their boots against the pavement.
Steb suddenly stops walking while they’re heading into a smaller side-street and touches Scar’s wrist to grab his attention.
“I had fun tonight. Thank you for inviting me,” he signs.
Scar didn’t expect to be thanked. There is a slight dark green flush on Steb’s face and a strand of hair falls into his face. If he wasn’t attractive before, he looks devastatingly handsome right now. He is once again reminded of how Steb looks more at place here, in some random street in Zaun wearing casual clothes, rather than playing the role of an enforcer.
He takes a step closer, feeling drawn to the other man. “It’s nothing.” He glances down to Steb’s slightly opened shirt. He has taken up Scar’s advice since that day. “You should button up, it’s cold.”
“I’m afraid I won’t ‘look the part’ if I do.” Steb leans his head backwards slightly to look Scar in the eyes. He is only slightly shorter than him.
He sees the other man’s eyes slowly trace down his eyes to his lips, down towards the swell of Scar’s chest before going back up to meet his eyes.
“Eyes up here, captain. Or do you like what you see?” He only half-jokes.
“And what if I did? ” His eyes are still slightly irritated from when they went to the warehouse, his iris half-translucent and reflecting the streetlights.
Scar isn’t stupid, he would be lying if he didn’t admit he was attracted to him, even if it’s on a purely physical level. And he noticed the glances Steb gave him during their time together. They lasted slightly too long to be an accident. They’ve both simply danced around it. But Steb is providing an opening for Scar right now, it’s up to him to take it.
Steb looks up at him under half-lidded eyelids, his thin lips were wet and slightly parted.
Call him simple-minded but it has been a while and what’s the harm in indulging a little. Though maybe part of that is the alcohol speaking.
He slowly leans in and is met with a passionate kiss. He moans into the Vastayan’s lips, pulling him closer by the hips. Steb in turn wrapped his arms around his neck, toying with the clasps on his collar.
Scar licks into his mouth, tasting faintly of alcohol, and he can hear Steb sigh. He moves his hand across Steb’s lean but strong back, feeling the different planes of muscle of the man’s body. Despite his thin build, he was stronger than he looked, having seen how he fought one of the lackeys at the warehouse today.
He moves his hands from his hips to tuck the shirt out of his pants, kissing him still. Scar’s fingers crept under his shirt and over his back again, making Steb gasp. They pull away from each other, a string of saliva briefly connecting them.
Steb signs something but the only thing he can discern from it are the words “you” and “trouble” before Steb’s lips are on his again. Suddenly, his back meets the wall behind him. Scar breaks apart to kiss his gills and upwards towards his facial fins.
“Scar,” Steb gaps as he holds him tighter by the shoulders.
Scar’s brain whirred to a halt.
“You talk?” His voice was deeper than he expected and Scar leans back to look at him.
“Only when I want to,” Steb whispers and pulls him back into a kiss. Scar has to hold back a laugh that transforms into a moan when Steb presses his knee between Scar’s legs. He’s almost certain the vastayan can feel his hardness pressing back against him.
They both groan as they grind against each other. Scar’s hands move from under Steb’s shirt to grab his ass and press him further up against him. He's doing everything he can to hear his name on Steb’s tongue again.
His tongue glides across his, wet and hot. If they keep it up at this rate he might come in his pants.
Scar doesn’t know the last time he was this turned on. It’s been far too long in any case.
The alleyway is filled with the sound of them kissing and soft sighs. Steb’s movement quickens and he feels like he’s about to ascend.
This time it is Steb who pulls away to clumsily undo Scar’s fly before he undoes his own. He frees their lengths, both straining against their underwear. He spits in his hand before taking them in his hand.
Scar’s head slams back against the wall when Steb starts to move. His fingers feel divine as he moves up and down in controlled movements.
He looks down at Steb, whose face is contorted in concentration, staring at his chest.
“Let me help you this time,” Scar whispers, pressing his forehead against Steb’s. He moves his hand against his and gently pries it away.
The other man can only nod in response, his hands traveling across his chest to hook his fingers under the sides of his shirt by his chest to pull him back into a kiss. He gasps into his mouth when he feels Scar’s large hand working both of them.
“Fuck,” Steb softly moans. "I'm close." Scar is unable to do anything but nod.
He leans his head onto Scar’s shoulder, breathing with an open mouth.
It’s desperation that both drive them at this point. They tightly cling onto one another as Scar speeds up.
Steb’s hand comes up to his face, pushing his thumb against his lips. Scar opens his mouth and automatically starts sucking on it as if it were his cock. Steb gasps in response.
He groans when he finally comes, keeping the same pace to ride out his orgasm. He lets Steb’s thumb fall out of his mouth. Soon after, he feels the hot splash of Steb’s ejaculation against his hand, followed by a moan.
They stay like that for a while, panting against each other.
When the cold air against their cocks and cum starts to feel uncomfortable, they separate. Scar doesn’t know where to wipe off his hands but is quickly offered a tissue by Steb which he gratefully accepts.
“I don’t feel that cold anymore.”
Scar feels weak in the legs but gathers the strength to button Steb’s shirt up and close his jacket for him, eliciting a laugh from Steb. It’s a magnificent sound.
“It's late, I should go back and see if April is already asleep,” he says after a moment.
Steb pats the imaginary dust of his pants and straightens himself.
"Tomorrow ,” Steb signs, and wipes their mixed saliva from his mouth with the back of his hand. He looks so perfectly disheveled, his hair is a mess and his eyes are blown wide. Scar is tempted to go back for more.
“Yeah,” Scar sighs. “See you tomorrow.”