The bar was one of those dim, no-name dives you’d find tucked away in the sketchier corners of Westchester, where the lights were sparse and the beer flowed freely. Scott Summers, Cyclops, sat nursing his second glass of whiskey. Its amber glow danced on his ruby-quartz glasses, the burn offering a brief escape from the turmoil of recent events. The air hung heavy with the scent of cigarettes and cheap bourbon.
The aftermath of Genosha and Bastion weighed heavily on his mind, the loss of thousands of mutants including his ex-wife Madelyne cast a shadow over him. The stress of recent events, coupled with the turmoil of his relationship with Jean, had culminated in their decision to end things. They had both seen it coming.
A year after the incident, Gambit unlike Magneto was still dead. His absence left the mansion in a heavy, oppressive fog. The loss of mutant lives left a gut punch of grief. The once lively estate, ruined by Bastion, and rebuilt from ashes, now felt haunted by the ghosts of friends lost, the buzz of the past replaced by an unsettling quiet that refused to lift.
Scott's mind kept circling back to Rogue. The usual swagger and snap in her step had been worn down by the chaos that had crashed down on them. She was carrying the weight of mourning not just one, but two men she'd been intimately connected to—Remy and Erik. Remy died saving her, and he knew that guilt was chewing her up from the inside.
Scott could relate to that gnawing sense of guilt all too well. Erik went back to being a mutant supremacist after being tortured by Bastion, betrayed by Charles and stabbed by Wolverine. Well, in all fairness Magneto did remove Logan’s Adamantium rather brutally. It may very well have been his own fault for letting that happen. He knew he had to make a choice and buy the gold team more time. They could only defeat Magento if the gold team defeated Bastion.
But at least Kurt was by Rogue's side, giving her the kind of support only he could. The rest of the X-Men? They were neck-deep in their usual grind, keeping their heads in the game and out of the dark corners of recent events. That familiar rhythm of their work gave them a sense of normalcy, stopping them from drowning in the bruises they'd taken along the way.
A year ago, Scott came face-to-face with his son from the future - Cable. He’d saved his life from the human sentinel. That whole scene hit him like a runaway train. The meet-up with Nathan was quick and messy, leaving Scott with a tight knot in his gut. Nathan's cold stare said it all—he wasn't happy to see his dad.
That guilt sank deeper, gnawing at him. Knowing Maddie never got to hold Nathan or see him grow up, it dug into Scott like a bad habit. Giving up his son and sending him to the future? That was a pain he might never let go of. He understood Nathan's anger, and he'd trade places with Maddie in a heartbeat if it meant she could be there with Nathan.
The team had succeeded in defeating Bastion but not without cost. The bastard had put a bomb in his chest but luckily Cecilia Reyes and Hank took it out in time to prevent him from blowing up. He remembered Warren cradling his head in his lap. It was painful as hell but Jean tried her best to quell it with her telepathy. Even Logan helped with his claws. He was thankful that his team had stepped in. This rare moment of calm before the never-ending storm gave Scott the breathing room to think, to question his own choices, and to figure out what his role really was in the bigger picture.
After the war, or what was left of it, things felt different. Day by day, Magento's ideology was starting to make more sense after the hell they had experienced.
The weight of his decisions pressed down on him, suffocating under the immense responsibility of his team's future and the fate of mutant-kind as a whole.
There was no space for doubt or retreat. He had to keep pushing forward, even if it meant carrying the crushing weight of the world on his shoulders. They had gotten too comfortable before, and Scott had made a vow to himself: "Never again."
Scott barely noticed the figure that slid onto the barstool next to him, his brooding interrupted by a smooth, familiar voice.
"Guess you're not too picky these days, huh, Summers?"
Scott's lips twitched into a slight smile. "When you've had a year like mine, you take what you can get, Warren."
Warren ordered a drink and waved a hundred-dollar bill to the Bartender. "You want to talk about it, or just sit here and pretend the world's not burning down?"
"Talking's not gonna change a damn thing," Scott said, his grip tightening on the glass. "Jean's out with Logan, Madelyne's gone, and the weight of the world is a bit much. What else is there to say?"
"I know what you mean. I was in Genosha when all that went down, so I get the whole 'hell on earth' part." He didn’t bring up the time he cradled a dying Scott in his arms. He didn’t feel like bringing it up, whether it was for Scott’s sake or his.
His thoughts drifted back to the nightmare he had witnessed in Genosha. The chaos, the fear, and the loss of so many lives were etched into his memory. The sky had been filled with screams and despair. He remembered the blood, the destruction, and the overwhelming sense of helplessness as he tried to save as many as he could. Warren had seen too much, felt too much. He'd made it out alive, but not unscathed. Being back in New York offered a semblance of normalcy, but it also came with the heavy responsibility of rebuilding and protecting what remained.
As he ordered another drink, he took a moment to breathe, to ground himself. He was grateful for Scott's company in that dim bar, grateful they were both still standing.
"Glad you made it out," Scott said, the genuine relief in his voice underscoring how much it mattered. "Couldn't bear the thought of losing you too."
"Feeling's mutual," Warren replied, nodding in agreement. "Seeing you after all that madness does a lot for the soul." He swirled his drink slowly, his expression thoughtful, as if he was drawing strength from Scott's presence.
The two friends locked eyes to glasses for a split second, a silent acknowledgement of the recent hell they'd been through. Warren had returned to New York and was laying low in his penthouse, but he couldn’t shake the scenes he'd witnessed.
Scott broke the silence with a wry nod, "Guess that's something.”
Warren raised his glass, offering a casual salute. "Yeah, we made it out alive. Let's make sure it stays that way.”
Scott let out a dry laugh, a hint of appreciation in his tone. "No kidding. So, what’s your excuse for being in a dump like this?"
"Misery loves company, and here we are. No sense in stewing alone." Warren grinned, ordering another round.
Scott nodded. "Thanks. It's been a hell of a time."
“Understatement of the year," Warren retorted darkly. "But hey, we're mutants. We thrive in hell, don't we?"
"Some of us more than others." Scott leaned back, the weight of their situation hanging heavily between them
Warren gave him a genuine smile. "So, what’s next for the X-Men?"
"Right now, nothing," Scott said heavily. "Just trying to figure out what the hell happens next. It's like everything collapsed all at once. I can't even sort my thoughts out properly."
"Too much to process all at once," Warren said gently, but there was an edge to his tone. "This wasn’t an easy loss, for any of us"
Scott leaned forward. "It's good to have you back with the X-Men, even if you're running the backend. You've been a godsend, funneling funds to mutants in need and pulling intel through your contacts."
Warren gave a faint smile. "Feels good to be back in the mix. But trust me, mixing with rich folks isn't all it's cracked up to be—it's about as exciting as watching paint dry."
"You know them better, though," Scott said with a knowing nod.
Warren shrugged, a hint of weariness in his eyes. "Yeah, guess that's the price you pay for playing the game."
"The scenes from Genosha..." Warren stated, "I can't seem to shake them even after a year. It was Horrifying. Bodies, screaming, rubble everywhere."
Scott nodded grimly. "It was a war zone—one moment everything seemed normal, and the next…." He tightened his grip on his glass, his jaw set with unresolved anger and grief.
Warren's features hardened. "You know, when I was there, it felt like everything had gone wrong all at once. Even now, I wonder if we could've done more to stop it."
"Yeah, that thought keeps me up at night," Scott muttered.
Warren paused, then spoke with a hint of frustration. "We lost too many, Scottie. Too many good mutants gone."
Scott nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. "The survivors—how are they doing?"
Warren shook his head, his eyes fixed on his drink. "Most of them are just trying to pick up the pieces and move on. But the scars don't heal overnight."
Scott's jaw tightened. "It feels like the universe is punishing us for something I can't figure out."
Warren took a long sip of his drink, his gaze meeting Scott's. "You shouldn't blame yourself for that. It's a cruel world out there, and sometimes bad things happen."
"Thanks," Scott murmured, grateful. "It helps to hear that, even if it doesn't change anything."
"You're welcome," Warren said, nodding slightly. "We all carry our burdens, Scott. But that doesn't mean we have to carry them alone."
Warren flagged down the bartender for another drink, the glass of amber liquid reflecting the low light as he settled back into his seat.
Scott knew they were both broken in the same ways—beaten, bloodied, hunted, and even possessed. Their lives had been carved out by a shared darkness that neither could fully escape.
"I try to act like everything's fine," Warren admitted. "But sometimes it feels like I'm living two lives—Warren and Archangel. It's hard to know which one is real, you know?"
Scott nodded, a heavy sigh escaping him. "Yeah, I know what you mean. I've started to wonder if Xavier's vision was just a pipedream. Maybe Magneto had it right all along. It's gotten to the point where I'm tempted to just let it all go." He carried the weight of his internal struggle, the line between hero and anti-hero blurring.
Warren's eyes narrowed, sensing the heaviness in Scott's words. He could feel the shift in his Scott’s mindset, the lure of the dark side becoming more enticing. "It gets lonely on that road." Warren almost whispered. "I haven't even been...intimate with anyone since I had become Death." There was a rawness in him, a vulnerability he rarely allowed himself to show.
Scott’s heart was heavy with the ache of understanding. He looked Warren in the eye and asked gently, "How long has it been?"
Warren's expression was haunted as he answered, "Too long." He’d been trying to push the thought away for some time.
Scott wanted to make it better for Warren, his friend who'd been there through so much. For a fleeting moment, he considered offering something, but he held back. Warren was Warren, after all—painfully gorgeous, and altogether deserving of someone better. Why would he ever choose someone like Scott?
Warren's gaze locked onto Scott's, a knowing glint in his eyes as though he sensed the unasked question hovering on the tip of Scott's tongue. "You were going to say something?" He prompted.
Scott's heart raced, the unspoken question lingering between them. He quickly swallowed whatever he was about to say, aware of how awkward it could become.
"No, nothing," Scott offered a slight smile to mask his hesitation.
Warren was unconvinced. "You sure about that, Summers?" He knew how often they had danced around saying what they truly felt, circling each other for years. Each avoiding the truth but longing for more.
At first it was because of the fact that Homosexuality was illegal in the 1960s. It was no less than terrifying for him. It was bad enough that he was a mutant. He couldn’t be also interested in another man.
And later because Scott was with someone. Even though it didn’t stop him from testing the waters and flirting with Scott every chance he got, they hadn’t crossed any lines. Sure, he'd hinted at it several thousand times that he wanted Scott whenever they had both been single, but Scott always seemed to miss the signs. It was frustrating and, if Warren was honest, a little disheartening.
"Yeah, I'm sure. Just trying to make sense of everything, you know?"
"You ever think about it? Getting back out there?"
Scott raised an eyebrow, a little taken aback by the directness of the question. "What, like dating?"
"Exactly," Warren said, his smile teasing yet genuine. "It's been a while, hasn't it? The last person you dated was Jean, right?"
Scott laughed bitterly. "It's not that simple for me, Warren. I'm the leader of the X-Men, and people see me as a freak."
Warren shook his head, a flash of irritation crossing his features. "Don't you dare call yourself a freak, Scott."
"Meanwhile, you have women fawning over you, Warren, despite your wings. You could have your pick of the litter."
"They can go and find a toy because they just want something to play with.”
Scott nodded thoughtfully, turning the conversation around. "Why have you been single? Is this about something more than the possession?"
Warren turned pensive, his gaze drifting off into the distance. "It's the same as you, Scott. The expectations, the judgments... It's hard to find someone who sees past my mutant powers and my wings, who understands the real me. Either I’m a mutant or a playboy. And my time is too expensive now with everything that’s going on. I’m not young anymore."
Scott pondered Warren's words, the weight of his friend's experiences echoing his own. They were both public figures with immense pressure and little room for vulnerability. It felt strange.
Warren shifted in his seat, his gaze returning to Scott. "Maybe we should..." He paused, his sentence hanging in the air as he hesitated.
Scott looked at Warren, the unfinished thought lingering between them. "Maybe we should what?"
Warren took a moment to collect his thoughts, his eyes locked with Scott's eyes underneath the red glasses. "Maybe we should stop pretending that we're just... fine as we are. You know?" he said, his voice carrying a hint of something more, a desire for a connection beyond friendship.
Scott tilted his head slightly, not quite grasping the subtle nuance in Warren's words. "Not sure what you mean," he replied, his confusion evident. "Are you talking about the team or... something else?"
Warren let out a soft sigh, the hint of exasperation creeping into his expression. "Just thinking out loud," he said, guarded. "We both know there are things we haven't fully dealt with, right?"
"Sure," Scott agreed, his focus still on the surface of the conversation. "We all have things to work through. That's what friends are for, right?"
Warren nodded, a hint of disappointment in his look. "Yeah, friends," he echoed, as he tried to keep his longing in check. "I guess that's what I meant."
Scott, oblivious to the deeper meaning behind Warren's words, nodded back. "Well, you know I'm here for you. Just like you've always been there for me."
"Yeah," Warren said, his tone was softer now. "Always." He offered Scott a tight smile, the unspoken longing hidden behind his usual charm.
The moment passed, the conversation returning to more comfortable ground, leaving Warren feeling a tinge of frustration.
Scott looked at Warren, trying to find the right words for what he had been thinking about lately. Something about the earlier conversation had left him wondering.
"Warren..." Scott began, hesitating as he searched for the right approach.
"Yes?" Warren asked, partly curious and cautious.
Scott paused, feeling a flicker of doubt. "Never mind," he finally said, unable to bring himself to address what had been weighing on his mind.
Warren's jaw tightened. "Scott, you can't just leave it at that," he added, "If there's something you want to say, then say it."
Scott stared at Warren, his thoughts all tangled up. He wanted to put into words what he had been feeling, but every time he tried, the words seemed to slip away. There were times when it felt like there was more than friendship between them. He had carefully locked those feelings away in a box in the darkest, deepest part of his mind.
Warren's annoyance bubbled, and his brow furrowed deeply. This was the second time today that Scott had started to say something and then backed away. "This is getting ridiculous, Scott. Either say what you need to say or stop playing with me."
Scott felt Warren's irritation, and he shot back, "It's not like you're not holding back yourself. You think I'm the only one keeping things close to the chest?"
Warren's eyes darkened, his patience wearing thin. "I'm not the one who's been stringing this out. You start to say something, and then you run back to safety. What is it, Scott?"
The alcohol swirling in Warren's veins didn't help him, and all he wanted to do was lean in and kiss Scott, to end the maddening dance around their unspoken feelings. But he was certain Scott would either run away or freeze-without Bobby’s help- if he did.
Scott sensed the growing tension and the stare of the bartender, so he paid the bill quickly and led them outside to his car. Warren followed him, his frustration palpable.
They got into the car, and Scott drove in silence. The quiet between them crackled with pent-up emotion, both men aware of the unspoken tension lingering in the air.
Eventually, the silence became too much for Warren to bear, and he spoke. "Are we just going to sit here in silence, or are you going to actually talk to me?"
Scott's hands tightened on the steering wheel, the pressure of the situation building. No. He was not opening that box. He was almost sure Warren was talking about something else entirely. "I don't even know where to start with you, Warren. You've been acting like you want to say something too. Why don't you go first?"
Warren shook his head. "I did say it! You're just not listening!"
Scott's heart pounded in his chest as the argument escalated. They were both grappling with the same feelings, and the same desire, but neither seemed willing to fully give in. The car ride stretched out, both men clinging to their pride, even as the underlying current of longing grew stronger.
As they were driving, they saw a sentinel attacking people. Bobby and Hank were already fighting it, struggling to keep it at bay.
Without a second thought, Scott parked the car, and he and Warren jumped into action. Their argument continued as they joined Bobby and Hank in the battle against the sentinel.
Scott and Warren fought in sync with Bobby and Hank, but their bickering was never set aside. It took centre stage.
"Could you stop blocking my shots, Angel?" Scott yelled as he aimed another blast at the sentinel.
"Maybe if you didn't take so long, we wouldn't have this problem!" Warren retorted, dodging the sentinel's attack.
Bobby quipped, "Here we go again!”
Hank, always the voice of reason, offered, "Perhaps a truce is in order, gentlemen. We can settle the rest of your domestic dispute later."
"Watch your back, Angel!" Scott yelled as he blasted the sentinel trying to attack Warren from behind.
"I can handle myself, Cyclops! Just take care of your end!" Warren shouted back, his wings cutting through the air as he attacked the sentinel.
The bickering continued as they fought the sentinel, each trading blows with the enemy and each other.
"You might as well have spoken in another language!" Scott continued where they had left their conversation in the car, still exasperated.
Warren, equally upset, shot back, "You have to be blind not to see, Cyclops."
The argument continued as they fought the sentinel.
"How long are you going to dance around it, Scott?" Warren demanded.
"Me? What about you? I'm not the only one being vague!" Scott countered; frustrated
Eventually, the team managed to defeat the sentinel, leaving it in ruins on the ground. They all returned to the car, the adrenaline still pumping.
Scott and Warren's argument picked up right where it left off, the tension between them still lingering.
"Do you even know what we’re talking about here?" Warren exclaimed.
"Do you?" Scott replied, his voice heated.
Bobby watched them, amusement clear on his face. "If you two are done with this weird spat, we can all relax now, right?"
"Shut up, Bobby!" Scott and Warren shouted in unison.
Hank rolled his eyes at Bobby's quip. "You never miss a chance to fan the flames, do you, Drake?"
The ongoing argument and bickering between Scott and Warren filled the car with tension, but there was a strange sense of familiarity and comfort between them, even amid their heated exchanges.
"You two reek of cheap alcohol," Hank said, his voice formal as always, his tone hinting at his disapproval. "It's unseemly."
Without missing a beat, Hank reached over and grabbed the keys from Scott, his movements smooth and assertive. "I'll take the wheel from here, gentlemen. I think you've both had enough excitement for one night."
As Hank took control of the car, They watched Scott and Warren continue their argument in the back seat, the tension lingering but tempered by the presence of Bobby's quips and Hank's steadying influence.
"You know, I've been saying it for years, Scott. Every year, every time we meet, every time we're alone. But you never seem to get my hints," Warren said, his tone heated and laced with exasperation.
Scott frowned, trying to understand what Warren was saying. "What hints? How am I supposed to know what you mean?"
Bobby took the opportunity to stir the pot. "Seems like someone needs to take some lessons in social interaction."
Warren shot Bobby a glare, his annoyance growing. "Bobby, stay out of this."
Scott's frustration began to mirror Warren's. "So you're saying you've been dropping hints all this time, but you never actually tell me what you want? How is that my fault? What is it you want? Do you want to be friends or do you want me to hook you up with someone? Do you want Jean, is that it?"
Warren's expression hardened at Scott's questions, his patience wearing thin. "Are you seriously bringing your ex into this? That has nothing to do with what we're talking about!"
Scott's irritation only intensified. "Then what is it, Warren? You never make it clear, and now you're accusing me of being oblivious! If you are serious, say it."
The heated back-and-forth continued, each man feeling the weight of unspoken emotions and unresolved tension. The air crackled with their unexpressed feelings, the argument threatening to boil over.
Bobby shook his head, still trying to lighten the mood with his quips. "I think Scott needs a dictionary to look up the word 'hint.' Maybe we can all chip in for it?"
"Shut up, Bobby!" Warren and Scott shouted in unison, their voices echoing in the car.
Hank intervened. "That's enough, all of you. Let's focus on getting back safely. The last thing we need is to escalate things further." He was frankly tired of seeing them going at it again for the hundredth time.
Scott and Warren exchanged heated glances, neither ready to back down. The argument had opened up a floodgate of unresolved issues between them, but neither seemed willing to confront the full extent of their feelings.
The drive continued with a tense, charged silence, both men turning away from each other, stewing in their thoughts. The tension between them remained unresolved, the underlying emotions left simmering beneath the surface
As the car reached the X-Mansion, Hank parked the car in the garage. The moment the car stopped, Warren got out and slammed the door behind him with force, the impact echoing through the night.
Both Hank and Bobby ran away from the car and back into the mansion.
Scott scolded Warren as he got out of the car. "You don't have to slam the door like that, Warren! Not everyone can afford to replace things as easily as you can."
Warren's irritation flared as he faced Scott, their earlier argument still fresh. "I'll buy you a thousand fucking doors then"
Scott scowled at Warren's outburst. "It's not about the doors, Warren! It's about respecting people's property!"
Warren’s anger softened as he spoke. "I'm sorry, Scott. I shouldn't have slammed the door. It was uncalled for."
Scott was still holding onto his irritation. "I'm bad at reading between the lines, Warren! You know that! I'd rather you just say it directly instead of hinting around!"
Warren's intensity in his gaze was unmistakable. "Fine. Then let me spell it out for you. I want you, Scott. I want you, not Jean or any other woman. I fucking want you. That's what I've been trying to say all this time!"
Scott stood there, stunned by Warren's confession. He couldn't believe what he had just heard. Warren had always been so cryptic with his feelings, and Scott had never expected him to be so direct. The revelation left him reeling, struggling to process the weight of Warren's words.
"That's...That's Good." Scott said, still speechless. He knew they had been teetering on the edge of something more for ages, but he never imagined it would culminate like this. Despite his shock, there was an underlying sense of relief in knowing the truth was finally out in the open. They weren’t dancing around each other anymore. He was shaking. All the fear and worry that he held for so long was being let out and replaced with relief and happiness.
Warren's eyes searched for Scott’s, his expression filled with disbelief. "Good?" he repeated.
Scott held Warren's gaze, gathering his courage. "Yeah," he said, firming up with conviction. "Because I want you too."
"I...what?" Warren stammered, his surprise evident in his wings that fluttered. He hadn't expected Scott to reciprocate his feelings so directly. He had been prepared for rejection, or at least more of Scott's usual hesitation. This response left him momentarily speechless.
Scott took a step closer, his stare unwavering. "You heard me. I want you too, Warren. I'm tired of...not being around you. If this year has taught me anything, it's that I could lose everything I cared for in a matter of seconds. If something like this happens again... I want you to know where I stand."
Warren blinked. "Huh," he muttered, clearly trying to process what Scott was saying. He hadn't expected this level of honesty and vulnerability from Scott, and it caught him off guard. His wings were doing that weird thing that made him want to take off and fly.
"Seriously, Warren. Are you messing with me?" Scott asked, tinged with uncertainty. He could feel anger rise within him. Was this all just a practical joke? He felt a wave of embarrassment at having allowed himself to be so open.
"Because if this is some kind of game… don’t play with my heart, Warren, I swear..." Scott's voice trailed off, his tenor laced with anger. "I've got no time for this kind of crap. You know how much I hate it when people toy with me. It makes me furious. If this is just you and the guys having a laugh trying to fuck with me because you all think I have a stick up my ass, I'm out."
Warren's own anger flared at Scott's accusations, the hurt evident. He took a step forward. "Scott, you have no idea how much I mean what I just said! How dare you suggest I'm playing some kind of prank on you?"
Scott's anger matched Warren's, the tension between them reaching a boiling point. "Well, what do you expect me to think, Warren? I confess my feelings to you and all you say is 'Huh.' What kind of response is that?"
Warren pushed Scott against the car, their bodies colliding with force. "I'm trying to process what you just told me, Scott! You can't expect me to have a perfectly composed response after waiting so long to hear you say that!"
Scott pushed back against Warren, the argument reaching a physical intensity. "So what? You can't just leave me hanging, Warren! This is important, and you respond with a shrug?"
Warren's lips curled into a mix of exasperation and desire. "You want me to show you how I feel? Fine!" With that, Warren pressed his lips against Scott's in a passionate, fervent kiss.
Scott's anger dissolved in the heat of the moment, the intensity of Warren's kiss pulling him in. He kissed Warren back, their emotions festering over into a raw, undeniable connection.
“If you want me to show I love you, then I will.” Warren pushed Scott back until he leaned against the car hood, then straddled him, deepening the kiss as he worked on unbuttoning Scott's shirt. His wings wwre splayed wide behind him.
Warren looked like a true Angel. Well, an Angel that was going to do terribly interesting things to him. Scott responded eagerly, wrapping his arms around Warren and pulling him closer.
Scott wrapped his arms around Warren, pulling him closer, their bodies pressed tightly against each other. Between kisses, Warren muttered, "You're hot,” filled with a mixture of amusement and genuine desire.
Scott couldn't help but chuckle against Warren's lips, his hands roaming along Warren's back and the base of his wings as they kissed. "Pretty sure you're the hot one, Warren," Scott managed to mutter teasingly as he broke away briefly for air.
Warren grinned at the playful challenge in Scott's mood. "Is that right?" he asked, leaning back in for another kiss. "I think you've got it the other way around."
Scott shook his head, a smile on his lips. "Now you're just lying.” He pulled Warren closer to him.
Warren folded his wings and cocooned Scott around it. He responded with another heated kiss, allowing the physical connection to speak for itself. "I tell it like it is." Warren whispered against Scott's lips. "But if you insist on arguing, I'm happy to keep kissing you until you see it my way."
The car creaked under their combined weight, but Warren didn't let up as his lips traced and tasted every inch of Scott's neck. Scott's head tilted back slightly, surrendering to the sensation of Warren's touch and the pleasure coursing through him. He couldn't help but moan out in delight, each sound a reflection of how good Warren made him feel. This time, he allowed his conscience to guide him without hesitation.
“Warren… I…," Scott managed to gasp out. Warren's touch felt fan-fucking-tastic, making it difficult for Scott to focus on anything else. His fingers dug into Warren's back right below where the wings started, holding him close as they continued their tryst.
Warren smirked against Scott's neck, enjoying the hums as he kissed him. “What’s that?" he teased, his lips lingering against Scott's skin, drawing out more reactions from him.
Scott's fingers trailed up the sensitive spot of Warren's wings, a teasing touch that made Warren shiver in response. "I think I could get used to this," Scott murmured, his breath hot against Warren's ear.
"That's the idea," Warren replied, low and husky. He moved his kisses back to Scott's lips, deepening it with a new sense of urgency. Their earlier arguments seemed like a distant memory now, replaced by this moment. Warren always believed deep down inside that Scott loved him and wished he would let go of his stubbornness. This time he did.
Scott reciprocated, the kiss growing more fervent as they revelled in the physical connection between them. Warren's hands explored Scott's chest, the warmth of his touch eliciting soft gasps and moans from Scott.
As their lips parted briefly, Scott looked up at Warren. "This is better than any argument we've had," he admitted with a playful smile.
Warren let out a breathy chuckle. "I agree," he said before pulling Scott back in for another kiss, their bodies pressed tightly against each other as they continued to lose themselves in each other.
Scott's heart raced as he reached for Warren's shirt, his fingers working quickly to remove it. The fabric slid off, revealing Warren's toned chest, and Scott couldn't help but let his hands explore the expanse of skin. Warren's bare skin felt warm against his touch, and Scott revelled in the closeness.
Warren leaned in for another kiss, deepening it as their hands roamed each other's bodies. Scott's hands traced the contours of his muscles. Their earlier hesitation and tension dissolved into pure craving.
As their lips parted briefly, Warren's gaze locked with Scott's. His fingers found the zipper of Scott's pants, pulling it down and working on the button. He could feel Scott's quickened breath against his skin, his anticipation heightening the moment.
Scott moaned softly, the sensation of Warren's hands on him making his mind go blank. "Warren..." he managed to murmur.
Warren's touch was slow and deliberate as he began to draw down Scott’s pants. "You know, you are beautiful, Scott," Warren said honestly, pausing for a moment to see Scott.
Scott chuckled, his breath coming in short gasps as he allowed Warren to undress him. "Not as beautiful as you.”
“Just accept the compliment.”
“I’ll try.”
As Warren worked on Scott's pants, their hands continued to explore each other, each touch leaving them wanting more. He wanted to show Scott how utterly gorgeous he was. Wanted Scott to feel good about himself. He looked around and realized the garage was probably not the best place to show him that. “Wanna go upstairs?”
“What do you think?” Scott smiled and buttoned up his pants. He took Warren’s hands in his and dragged him to the door, closing it on their way up.