Page 24 of Damaged

“You shouldn’t call people we work for by their names,” Wrath growled and whirled around on Rogue. “It makes you appear close to them.”

With one hand planted on Rogue’s chest, Wrath stiffened his arm to keep the man away.

They froze like that for a few seconds and then Rogue knocked his arm away, fisted the front of his shirt, and yanked him closer.

“The only one I’m close to is you.”

“That’s not true, what about Fisher and Echo?” he shot back just as angrily.

“They don’t count.”

Wrath let Rogue manhandle him back between two houses.

It was there in the dark with his back pressed to the stucco that his hood was yanked up and Rogue’s mouth slammed down on his.

His lip split, but Wrath welcomed Rogue’s angry kiss because it was also filled with desire.

Parting his lips, Wrath bit at Rogue’s mouth until the bigger man was rubbing against him—his hardened cock straining in his pants.

Gasping, Wrath wrenched his mouth away.

When Rogue eased back, they were both gasping for breath, trying to keep their sounds down. Rogue lowered his mask back down and Wrath followed suit.

He wasn’t letting this end there, that was for damned sure, and with an iron grip, Wrath locked his hand around Rogue’s wrist and pulled him through the darkness.

They made it to the couch in Wrath’s home and for Rogue, that was a win.

He had wanted to fuck Wrath in the cab of his truck but had refrained, just barely.

He wanted…no, he needed to touch him. Yanking at the bottom of Wrath’s shirt, he yanked it over the man’s head.

With hungry hands, he caressed Wrath’s muscled chest and ripped abs, careful of the knife wound.

Slowly, he took Wrath’s mouth again and this time, he swept his tongue inside, tasting.

Wrath fisted the hem of his shirt and slowly pulled it upward, keeping their mouths locked together. When the garment reached his neck, Rogue broke the kiss, tore the shirt off, and moved back in.

He reached around and cupped Wrath’s ass and squeezed before he slid his hands down farther and caught the back of the blond’s thighs and lifted.

Wrath’s legs wrapped around his waist.

“I hope to fuck you have supplies,” he muttered.

Wrath huffed a small snickering sound that was sexy as fuck.

“Who do you think you’re dealing with?” The man’s whispered words were accompanied by lips biting and sucking at his neck.

Wrath wiggled until Rogue was forced to put him down and he watched, fascinated, when Wrath trailed a hand down his own stomach and unbuttoned the tight black pants before peeling them and the black briefs beneath completely off.

Naked, Wrath was a beautiful sight. Beneath the white gauze wrapped around the man’s waist lay stitches. That scar wasn’t the only blemish on Wrath, and while each scar told its own story, they were also badges of survival against the odds.

Rogue caught the back of Wrath’s neck and tugged him closer. Another slow, aching kiss ensued. Rogue walked Wrath backward toward the bedroom door, all the while Wrath was jostling with his pants. They were both naked before they even reached the inside of the bedroom.

Grinding against Wrath, Rogue pushed the man back against the nearest wall with a low groan.

“Come on,” Wrath said, pushing him away before linking their fingers.

He was pulled toward the king-sized bed and with a quick stop at the side table, Wrath yanked open the drawer, grabbed condoms and lube, and slapped them down on top of the same small table.

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