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He sat in a makeshift medical tent – one that housed fifty odd people – elbows on his knees, head in his hands. Flashes of star-like souls, an endless dark landscape dotted by bright souls, kept catching him off guard.
Dreamless solitude, whispered in his head, over and over, unprompted. Steb didn’t know where the phrase came from, but he’d wager it was a lingering thought from the being who had their fingers wrapped around his brain.
Every time he closed his eyes, he could see the fields of souls, waiting for something he wasn’t privy to; something his mortal mind couldn’t comprehend.
Pain throbbed in his head. Since he’d – and presumably everyone else who’d been within the radius of the Herald’s reach – been released from the Herald’s hold, the migraine hadn’t dissipated. It started at a ten, and it continued to be a ten nearly a full day later.
Steb felt as though he were on a muted, slightly deranged, rollercoaster of emotion. He supposed that was the way things were in a battle, with the numerous times he thought he was going to die. The adrenaline and noradrenaline that ran through his body unchecked during the battle, and the subsequent plumet of his hormones when the fight was over. It left him exhausted in a way that landed him in the medical tent he now resided in.
That, and his exposure to the Grey. Steb didn’t want to lay down and rest, no matter if he’d been exposed to Piltover’s abominable chemical weapons, directly or not. What was done was done, and if he was being honest, it felt deserved. Still, he was loath to admit he was a patient in his own medical tent.
Thoughts of the Grey always led him down the same path. To thoughts of the Undercity and the swathes of Firelights, both creature and revolutionary movement.
He’d seen Scar in the fight – it’d been him on the hoverboard that gave Seb the second wind he’d needed, actually. On his knees, hands behind his head, it’d all seemed bleak until the Undercity came to their rescue.
And now he didn’t even know if Scar made it through all that. The big man had disappeared into the sky with his fellow Firelights.
The thoughts made his migraine worse, and he groaned.
He forced himself to lay down and close his eyes, using his hat to cover his closed lids. He thought there’d be no way for him to fall asleep, yet, sleep found him in fits and starts.
Steb rolled over on his cot, headache never ending. He cracked open his eyes and caught sight of a familiar ear with a familiar gauge. His heart clenched tight; his blood pounded in his ears. Quickly, he sat up, scrambling to his feet, praying that it wasn’t wishful thinking to imagine seeing Scar again. He’d gone to sleep thinking about him, and it felt a bit like manifestation to wake up to seeing him.
Scar sat across the big tent in his own cot, eyes closed, a hand on his forehead in exhaustion. Steb caught a wince when Scar made a move to lay down, then change his mind and stay sitting, not unsimilar to how Steb had felt before he’d dozed off.
He was drawn to the man, and on light feet, Steb left the patient area of the tent and went to hunt down a first aid kit in the back.
He wore his enforcer uniform still, though the top was unbuttoned to reveal a plain white shirt under. His hat was forgotten on his cot, keeping his space warm. No one stopped him from snatching a kit.
He glanced back to where Scar continued to sit, heart skipping in his chest, before he took a deep inhale, and picked his way to where the vastaya sat. Doctors and nurses were ambling about the space at different levels of hurriedness. Patients sat at their cots, or tried to stumble away. Steb carefully avoided them all.
Steb could hear Scar breathing hard the closer he got and he had to restrain himself from calling Scar’s name. Scar’s ears perked when he heard his footsteps, and he used the hand that was resting upon his brow to wave Steb off.
“I’m fine, doc, just need a moment to breathe,” Scar muttered without looking. Steb ignored him and knelt down before him, placing the first aid kit on the cot next to Scar. Scar opened his eyes finally, narrowing at Steb as he opened his mouth to speak again.
Whatever he wanted to say died on his tongue, as Scar’s face went blank. Steb’s scales fluttered in anxiety, but he reached for the chart at the end of Scar’s bed to see what was wrong. They were silent for a long minute while Steb read over the briefly jotted notes.
Bullet wound nicked left upper quadrant of the abdomen; stitches needed. Patched up temporarily.
Stitches. He could do that with his eyes closed, even with a headache that felt like his brain was trying to melt out of his ears.
Steb set the chart down next to the first aid kit, popped the kit open, and made an attempt to pull out disinfectant. Instead, big hands grabbed at his face.
He inhaled sharply; his vision being forced to look up at Scar as Scar framed his face with his hands. Steb looked up at him with big eyes, startled by such a soft touch. The medical tent was still abuzz with movement, even though they’d been working nonstop since the end of the fight. Hours ago, tens of hours ago, Steb didn’t know. Enforcers and medics and patients, all walked by, all in a rush to help someone or get helped. Every cot was full, either with sleeping people or people like Scar, too in pain to sleep.
Scar ran his thumb across delicate scales under his eye, a moment longer of kindness, before his yellow eyes hardened.
“An enforcer? You’re an enforcer?” Scar hissed, nearly pushing Steb away. Steb caught himself easily, because this anger was what he’d expected. He shot Scar a glare but righted himself. Steb lifted a hand to touch Scar’s left side, signaling what he wanted.
“No,” Scar snapped. Steb blinked hard, then narrowed his eyes.
“You need stitches,” Steb told him, and Scar startled, clearly not expecting him to speak so easily.
“Then someone else can do it,” Scar looked beyond him, presumably for a different medic.
“How long have you been waiting? I’m here now. Let me,” Steb insisted. Scar looked back down at him; a nasty glare cut across his face. Steb could understand his anger, and he’d accept it.
“I don’t even know your name.”
Steb averted his eyes, a flush on his cheeks. He knew Scar’s name, but he’d never told Scar his. It said more about Scar’s morals, to sleep with an unnamed vastaya, than Steb’s.
Or, at least, that’s what he convinced himself.
“Steb. Now let me stitch you up and you may go,” Steb bargained, though he wasn’t on duty and there was no way of knowing if Scar could go. He watched as Scar repeated his name silently.
Without saying anything else, Scar raised his right arm and grabbed at the back of his shirt before pulling it over his head. He gingerly lifted his left arm to take it off entirely. Steb was left with an eyeful of Scar’s broad chest and abdomen. His mouth went dry at the sight, remembering vividly how it felt to grab at the man’s pecs.
Scar scoffed, snapping Steb out of his daze. His face felt like it was the temperature of the sun, but he sprung into action.
There was a bandage on Scar’s left side, blood soaking through it. With a pointed look at Scar, Steb gathered the things he needed from the first aid kit and carefully peeled the bandage away. He caught a trickle of blood with new gauze, before he set to work.
String in needle, disinfectant, more gauze, and Steb was so focused on the stitches that he forgot about his own headache and the obscenely attractive man’s body.
“You saved my life,” Steb said quietly as he worked. Scar glanced at him, then away again, focusing on some point in the middle distance.
“Pretty sure we saved everyone’s life,” Scar muttered, obtuse on purpose. Steb didn’t let him take the easy way out though. His words were a distraction from the pain of the sutures as much as they were the truth.
“I was part of the main group, with the Commander. We were overrun, which was frankly unsurprising. How does someone fight an army who’s teamed up with a… an unhinged deity?” Steb still didn’t really understand it all. Caitlyn called him Viktor, whispered rumors called him the Herald, but all Steb saw was a god gone wrong, with his fingers in all their heads simply because he could. “The gun was to my head when you arrived on your flying board with your scary mask.”
It was the most Steb had said to Scar, and Scar seemed to be drinking it in. Every word he said, Scar held onto.
“Hoverboard,” Scar corrected under his breath.
“You saved my life,” Steb said again. His knees ached where he continued to kneel, but he was finished, having distracted Scar enough to finish the job quickly. Steb bandaged him up and pulled back, examining his work. He patted Scar’s side, just below the wound to indicate he was done.
Scar didn’t move though, simply stared at Steb.
“Why did you leave?” Scar asked, voice rough. Steb kept his eyes averted, packing up what he didn’t use in the first aid kit. He pursed his lips together, desperately not wanting to tell him his reasons. They didn’t feel good enough anymore. Not after everything that’d happened; not after a literal god rummaged around in his head like a child trying to find the best toy in their toy chest to play with. Everything else felt small.
This was a turning point though. This moment would be the make-or-break moment between them, and Steb had to decide if he wanted to have this stranger in his life, or if he should wash his hands of him for good.
But Steb had been excited to see Scar again, even if it’d meant he was only on the receiving end of his ire. He’d not gone a day without thinking of Scar that night, even if it was just a brief, fleeting thought. That felt like a good enough decision for him.
Steb stood, knees creaking, before gathering up his things – the kit and the chart – to sit next to Scar on his cot. He placed everything in his lap, hands clenched tight around them.
This was more frightening than facing Ambessa herself, one on one.
“You already said,” Steb’s voice was barely audible. It croaked, dry after talking so much. “I’m an enforcer. I was in the Undercity for work. I didn’t want you to get mixed up in it. It was supposed to be fun with you, that’s all.”
Silence fell between them. Neither looked at the other, but Steb’s hands gripped the chart and kit even harder in his lap. Scar was processing his words. He hoped Scar could read between the lines.
I wanted to stay but it felt wrong. You have a child that I could have endangered with my presence. It was safer this way.
Though, if he’d seen Scar’s prowess in battle, he might be less inclined to think that Scar was bothered in the slightest by safety.
“We could have had more fun if you’d stayed,” Scar’s voice was just as quiet. He bumped Steb’s shoulder with his own. Steb snorted and rolled his eyes, but the scales along his face flicked in nervousness. “All night even.”
Steb peeked at Scar out of the corner of his eye. The vastaya looked at him openly, a softness on his face that Steb didn’t feel like he deserved, but desperately wanted to deserve. Scar leaned close and pressed his forehead against Steb’s temple briefly.
It was forgiveness, and a knot formed in Steb’s throat that it was given so easily.
“Let’s get out of here,” Scar suggested in a way that sounded like it wasn’t at all a suggestion. Steb found himself gathering his things, speaking to the medic on duty, and leading Scar away from the tent, his own migraine entirely forgotten about.
The only reason Steb’s housing wasn’t in the barracks with the rest of the enforcers was because of the special forces team he was on in the Undercity.
He appreciated the privacy, but not the cost of it; the now numerous times he’d been forced to think about the Grey and been exposed to it.
His house was modest compared to others in Piltover, but it was still too big for him. A two-story townhouse, both walls shared with neighbors on either side of it. It was taller than it was wide.
Scar shifted into Steb’s peripherals to lean against the door frame as he slotted the key into the lock. His big body made desire course through Steb, remembering how it felt over him.
Steb glanced up to Scar, who cracked a knowing smirk. It only made Steb work faster to open his door. The confidence Scar had was annoyingly charming to Steb.
Steb’s house was mostly empty, bare. He didn’t know how to live in such a big space. Steb didn’t know what to do with all the rooms in the house. He was often not home anyway, preferring to be around others to fill the silence that followed him.
They walked inside, the door closed behind them quietly. Steb tossed his hat onto an entryway table, followed by the keys. Scar watched, then pinned his gaze on Steb.
This time, when their lips met, it was homecoming. It was gentle, soft at first. It was a hello, a welcome back. Steb smiled into the kiss, and Scar must feel it because he made a soft groaning noise before deepening the kiss.
A big, clawed hand snaked behind Steb’s neck just like the first time, and it made Steb’s insides warm over. It was something that bordered on a possessiveness that appealed to Steb, because neither one of them had any right to be possessive of the other.
Yet, there was an undeniable pull between them, and, unlike the first time they were together, this time they’d just survived a war and an attempted apocalypse.
Steb dipped his tongue into Scar’s mouth to taste him. Their tongues explored each other’s mouths leisurely, while their hands roamed almost-familiar bodies.
Scar’s other hand pushed at Steb’s shirt, and together they removed it and the undershirt underneath. Scar broke their kiss to look.
He made a noise of appreciation, taking in Steb’s bare torso. Steb thought he might explode under the heated scrutiny Scar looked at him with. He watched as Scar’s pupils dilated. Steb was lean and his muscles hard from the rigorous training they’d been undertaking to prepare for the battle.
Scar placed his hand gently against Steb’s sternum, the metal clawed tips warm to the touch. They trailed down one of the darker stripes of skin, where cerulean met with a light shade of jade. Steb remembered, viscerally, the last time they were together, and the promise Scar made. He grabbed Scar’s hand, forcing their kissing and touching to stop. Steb wasn’t careful as he pulled at the armor-like metal tips until they came off, one by one.
All of his claws were filed down. Steb’s eyes flicked up to Scar’s face as he felt his face heat.
“Can only think about taking my cock, huh?” Scar mused, voice low with want. It made Steb want to be swallowed up by the earth.
“Shut up,” Steb mumbled, embarrassed by himself. Still, he let the metal tipped claws drop to the ground at their feet and pulled from Scar’s hold on his neck. He met Scar’s eyes one more time before turning away.
He had a flash of déjà vu, of following Scar to his bedroom in the Undercity. Now it was Scar who followed after him, in a much less composed way. Scar caught up to him, wrapped his arms around his middle, and pressed hot kisses along his neck. It made walking hard, but Steb didn’t shoo him away. He wrapped a hand around one of Scar’s forearms, the other reaching back to grab a handful of his black hair.
They walked awkwardly, in sync, through the lounge, through a hallway, up a set of stairs. They walked long enough through the mostly empty house for Scar to mumble, “when does this pilgrimage end?”
Steb barked out a laugh and found his voice once again, even though he was tired of speaking.
“Is my bedroom a holy place now?” he teased, though the question hit a little too close to home from their latest, literal, encounter with a divine being. Scar was quiet for a moment, focused on kissing along the top of his shoulder and finding the most unique spot to suck a bruise into. Easily hidden, but very much still there.
Steb led them into his bedroom, finally – finally.
“If you think your bed is not the altar I’m about to worship you on,” Scar began, absolutely flooring Steb with his sincerity. “Then I didn’t do a very good job the first time we were together.”
This big brute of a man, waxing poetic about them falling into bed together again. Steb was smitten, though he tried to ignore the feeling.
He turned in Scar’s arms, he wrapped his own around his neck and brought him in for a deep kiss. It was less feral than their previous kisses. It was slower, deeper, more soul-wrenching. Scar held him tight, like he was afraid Steb might evaporate in his hold.
Steb had several realizations at once. The first was that this reunion wasn’t just about to be them together again; it was to be a celebration of being alive. The second was that Scar – very clearly, if not more – felt the same way that Steb felt about him. The third was that they both thought that they were never see each other again.
This wasn’t going to be as hot and quick like the last time they were together.
One of Scar’s hands dragged down from his waist to his backside, cupping it and pulling his hips closer. It forced a huff of air from Steb’s lungs, but Scar took that chance to turn the kiss into something open mouthed.
Their tongues slid together as Steb worked on pushing off Scar’s vest, then pushing up his plain shirt. Scar took them off easily, but moaned unabashedly as Steb hooked a finger under the choker that looked suspiciously like a collar and pulled.
Steb wanted to explore that later – why it was on him – but the sound of Scar’s moan made his body turn obscenely hot and the collar was forgotten in favor of ridding both of them of the rest of their clothes. This bit, the removal of the final barriers between them, was the last frantic thing between them.
Once they were both pressed together, naked, it all moved slower. Scar’s hands were more reverent, touching every bit of Steb and spreading goosebumps in their wake. Steb trailed along his collar bone, his pecs, down his muscular abdomen. Steb ran a finger along each abdominal muscle for emphasis on how ridiculous it was that Scar was this toned.
The back of Steb’s knees hit his bed and they both tumbled onto it. Their teeth clacked together with the movement, which only drew a breathy laugh from Steb. It was swallowed by Scar, their kisses relentless and endless.
Steb’s heart pounded in his chest as both of their bodies pressed close. Steb scooted up on his bed on his elbows to make more room for them, but Scar followed easily, pushing his legs apart so he could fit between them.
Steb sighed out in pleasure, feeling Scar’s weight over him and his hot length pressing against his hip. It felt good to be caged in by Scar’s body; it felt safe. Steb leaned up to press kisses along Scar’s jaw, and the big man groaned from the gentleness of it. Scar’s hands roamed Steb’s body, holding him, pressing his thumbs into the skin just below his ribs.
Steb kissed as far down his throat as he could. His hips thrust upward, smearing both their leaking wetness against each other. Scar pulled back to stare at Steb. Steb knew he looked messy with his kiss swollen lips.
Steb could see the question in Scar’s eyes and pointed, wordlessly, at the small table just off to the side of his bed.
Scar let out a shaky breath, leaning over to the table without separating them to grab what he was looking for. While he did that, Steb’s gaze wandered down his body. He wanted to lick every single one of Scar’s muscles. He wanted to take his time with Scar next, once this was out of their system.
Scar’s cock rested heavily next to Steb’s. It was without a thought that Steb reached between them to wrap his hand around both of them. He smeared the precum from tip to base, mixing both of them together. Scar’s next moan sounded punched out, like it was ripped from his lungs.
In the tight hold of his hand, their cocks pressed together felt heavenly. Scar’s was big and velvety, thicker than Steb was. Steb bit off his own moan at the thought of it inside him. He was so distracted by this thought, that it was only when a slicked wet finger touched his hole that he jolted back to the present.
Scar’s pupils were blown wide as he petted Steb’s rim, watching Steb leisurely stroke them both. It felt like a revelation when Scar pushed his finger inside. Steb’s back arched, his legs spread wider, and his eyes squeezed shut.
“Fuck,” Scar bit out, voice wrecked. Steb’s slow rhythm faltered, but neither noticed. “Look at you.”
Steb tilted his head to the side instead, eyes still shut, savoring the feeling of Scar inside him. This is what he wanted the first time.
Scar took his time opening him up, one finger sliding in and out until he decided he was ready for two. In and out, scissoring to open him up. Goosebumps erupted along Steb’s body, and his chest heaved for breath. It took all his concentration to remember to stroke them, but by the time a third finger was pushed inside his tight hole, his hand simply held the two of them together without moving.
Even with three fingers opening him up, he knew it would still be a stretch to fit Scar’s cock inside. Scar was panting through his mouth.
“You’re driving me insane,” Scar groaned, which finally got Steb to open his eyes and look up at the man. “I don’t know how I resisted you before when you were all pretty and spread out like this on my bed.” Steb’s face flushed hot at his words. He felt so full of Scar’s fingers, but he wanted more. He shifted his hips to pull off Scar’s fingers. Steb let go of both their cocks, only to wrap his hand back around the base of Scar and urge him to shift lower.
Steb guided Scar’s cock to his rim, the tip bumping against it. Steb felt insane with need. Scar leaned back, just enough to watch when he began to press forward. The stretch was delicious, Scar having worked him open enough that any small pains were overridden by hot pleasure.
It was a lifetime before Scar bottomed out, but once he did, they both let out low, drawn-out moans. Steb felt hazy as he looked down the length of his body to see a soft bulge in his abdomen where Scar’s cock pressed deep in him. Steb lifted a hand and touched.
Scar groaned out a string of curses before pulling out and thrusting back in hard enough to make the bed rock. Steb’s free hand gripped at his bedspread, but still it didn’t feel like it was enough. They weren’t connected enough; they weren’t intwined in a way that transcended this realm. Steb lifted both his legs to drape them along Scar’s chest, calves against his shoulder, and the next thrust in hit perfectly.
“So deep,” Scar panted, his hands moving to grab at Steb’s thighs and hold tight. Steb felt like he was being rearranged to fit Scar, and almost hurt to breathe, but it only made him want to claw Scar closer.
More, more, more, more.
Scar’s pace was a rolling of his hips, over and over, before snapping roughly into Steb, and repeating it. Steb’s back arched when Scar’s cock rubbed against the bundle of nerves inside him, lighting his nervous system up in a colorful array of pleasure. His own cock bobbed against his stomach, leaking precum and making a mess.
Scar turned his head to press a kiss against Steb’s ankle. Their eyes met and Steb had the mad urge to reach for Scar and pull him closer. He wanted to feel the stretch in his thighs as Scar pressed closer, his legs firmly tucked between their chests.
Scar could sense his want and dipped down to press hot kisses to Steb’s throat.
“I don’t remember you being this needy,” Scar mumbled. Steb didn’t have the capacity to feel embarrassed when he was already so full, and Scar sounded more enamored by it than teasing.
Steb leaned his head back on the bed, his hands ghosting up Scar’s muscular back, feeling the way his muscles moved with each thrust. He threaded his fingers into Scar’s black hair and gripped.
Scar moaned, their voices and breaths in sync as their bodies melded into one. Scar slipped a hand between them to wrap his warm hand around Steb’s cock. Steb choked off a moan, and suddenly the warm, fuzzy feeling he’d been building up skyrocketed into molten lava.
With Scar inside him and stroking him, it took almost no time for the pleasure to twist and knot into a tight bundle in his core.
“P-please— Scar,” Steb gasped, before tumbling over the edge. He came hard, coating them both with spurts of himself. His body clenched down around Scar, dragging a ragged moan from the big man and sending him across the threshold with Steb.
Scar pushed himself deep, pumping himself inside Steb and filling him even more. Steb wrapped a hand around the back of Scar’s neck and pulled him down until their foreheads touched, eyes shut.
Scar let out a content, pleased noise at the forehead press, his body melting against Steb’s. They stayed like that for a while, neither wanting to separate from the other.
Eventually, though, Scar pulled himself out of Steb and bent over to grab his own shirt. He used it to clean them both off, before they settled on the bed.
They lay together, hot, sweaty, finally together. Steb lay with his head on Scar’s chest, limbs draped lazily across the vastaya. Scar dragged his fingers through Steb’s hair, nails scratching his scalp.
Steb hummed in contentment, happy. Peaceful.
Scar’s hand moved from his hair down the back of his neck, between his shoulder blades, and down his spine. His fingers tapped along Steb’s waist. There was something on his mind.
“Did you feel it? At the end?”
There was only their heavy breathing in the room. It made sense that this was still on both their minds, but Steb wanted to shy away from it while Scar wanted to talk about it.
“The connection between them? Their souls intertwining into something more. I could feel the regret from the Herald, the shame as he was finally seen.”
They’d all been connected, Steb knew exactly what Scar was talking about.
“Then the joy. Together, finally,” Steb mumbled, pressing his cheek against Scar’s pec. Scar’s free hand came up to lift the one Steb draped over him. They held their hands up in the air, palms pressed together, for a moment.
“I get it. I felt that in the medical tent when I saw you,” Scar said, almost offhandedly. Their fingers pressed against each other, and Steb watched as Scar shifted his palm slightly to the right to misalign their fingers.
Felt it in the medical tent when Scar first saw Steb? Was it in the gentle caress before Scar’s anger took over?
Slowly, Steb curled his fingers between Scar’s to lace them together. Their hands gently dropped onto Scar’s abdomen, held tight.
Steb’s chest felt tight with emotion.
“Will you stay?” Steb asked. Scar dragged his thumb over the top of Steb’s hand. Steb wanted to hold his breath in anticipation. Still, after everything, he expected to be rejected.
“Yeah,” Scar answered, as if it was that simple. The scales along his cheeks rippled in his surprise, and Scar let out a huff of a laugh when the ones pressed against his chest tickled him.
A smile pulled at the corners of Steb’s mouth. Maybe it really was easy to let Scar into his life. Steb thought he was ready for something easy for once.