Riot hesitated. He didn’t show people and didn’t talk about it with people who hadn’t been there. But Cass was sitting here ashamed of marks that had been carved into him by people who should have protected him, and maybe...
Maybe it would help.
He tugged his shirt over his head.
Cass’s breath caught.
Riot knew what he was seeing. The bullet wound on his left shoulder, puckered and ugly, from a job that went sideways in the Static Zone. The knife scars scattered across his chest and ribs—some from field ops, some from fights he’d barely survived, some from the years after Endeavor when staying alive meant hurting people before they could hurt him.
“Oh,” Cass breathed. “Riot...”
“Different kind of damage,” Riot said, keeping his voice steady. “But damage all the same.”
Cass reached out, then hesitated, fingers hovering over Riot’s chest. “Can I...?”
Don’t. If he touches you, you’re going to lose it.
“Yeah, princess. You can.”
Cass’s fingers were feather-light on the bullet scar first, tracing the raised edges with the same wondering gentleness Riot had used on his marks. “Does this one hurt?”
“Not anymore.”
Cass moved to a knife scar across his ribs. “What about this one?”
“That one aches sometimes. When it rains.”
“That’s sad.” Cass’s brow furrowed. “Scars shouldn’t hurt.”
Yours probably do too, and you don’t even realize it’s not normal.
Then Cass’s fingers moved up, tracing the surgical line along Riot’s jaw, and every coherent thought evaporated.
The touch was innocent—curious, gentle, exploratory. Cass was just mapping the scar the same way he’d mapped the others. But his fingertips were brushing the corner of Riot’s mouth, and all he could think about was turning his head and sucking those fingers into his mouth.
What would he taste like? Would he make that little surprised sound? Would he pull away or push deeper? I’d let him push deeper.
“These are the neatest ones,” Cass observed, completely oblivious to Riot’s internal meltdown. “Like someone drew them with a ruler.”
“Surgery.” Riot’s voice came out rough. “They put things inside me. To make me... what I am.”
“The scary stuff,” Cass said softly.
“Yeah. The scary stuff.”
Cass’s fingers lingered on his jaw for another eternity before dropping away. “Thank you for showing me. I’m sorry people hurt you.”
I’m not thinking about people hurting me right now. I’m thinking about your fingers in my mouth and what sounds you’d make if I—
“We match,” Cass added, with a small, tentative smile. “Both damaged.”
“Yeah, princess,” he managed. “We match.”
A tear slipped down Cass’s cheek, and before Riot could stop himself, he’d reached up to catch it with his thumb. Cass madea small sound and leaned into the touch, eyes fluttering half-closed. “That feels nice.”
Don’t. Don’t do this.
Less than a week and Riot was already holed up in a hotel room with him, ready to commit murder over scars he’d just learned about. Less than a week and he was breaking every promise he’d made to himself about never taking advantage of innocents again.
