Everything was still and quiet in the ambulance bay behind the hospital. 

Late weekday mornings were the calmest time of day, and Kit was just getting off his shift. The other vehicles parked there were all closed and empty - his had the back doors open, letting in humid summer air and sunlight.

Soft lips moved against his, insistent, his hand on a shaved cheek, raspy after their 24 hours on the go, tasting salt on the other paramedic's skin, mind wandering - 

I need to pick up something to bring to Charlie and Amos's place tonight, a plant or chocolates or something - 

Some shifts left him feeling dead on his feet, ready to trudge home and collapse - and some left him feeling buzzed, alive, thrumming with energy.

Like today.

His colleague pushed him up against a rack of equipment they had been checking though, refilling, wiping down. Their hands smelled of powder and disinfectant, Kit's tugging him closer, his cupping the younger man's face - 

That's when the werewolf spotted the lean, broad-shouldered young man leaning against the back door of the ambulance, blocking the light.

Zach.

The sight hit him like a punch, a small gasp escaping him.

It had been almost a year since he'd heard from the bartender - just after his own 18th birthday. But even though he'd changed, and Kit had changed, he was unmistakable. 

To his annoyance, Kit's heart began beating faster. 

"Long time no see, doc," he said, eyes roving over him, still ensnared with his fellow first responder, dark blue overall open at the front, bunched at his waist.

They pulled apart and Zach moved quickly, stepping up into the narrow space and crowding up to not Kit - but to his colleague.

He shoved him into the side of the ambulance, knocking their supplies over, throwing him down and aiming a kick at him while the paramedic yelped in surprise and tried to scramble back. 

"What're you - Leave him - fuck!"

Kit punched him, knocking him back and shoving Zach out of the ambulance, balling up his fists.

"I'm going to get security," the older paramedic said, hurrying off.

Kit didn't turn to watch him go, keeping his eyes fixed on the man in front of him instead.

"What the hell, Zach, I haven't heard from you since you started working for your grandfather last year, and now you show up out of nowhere... What the actual fuck?"

Zach wiped the blood from his split lip from Kit's punch. "Just wanted to get your attention, that's all."

He grinned at him, teeth stained red.

"So - are you coming?"

They heard footsteps approaching, a steel door opening. Kit snarled in frustration, Zach laughing as the younger man grabbed his things and ran with him, up along the street, away from the large brick building.

Zach still had an unconcerned air about him, but he stood up straighter, shoulders broader and more muscled, black hair cropped close to his skull now. It brought out his cheekbones, letting his features speak for themselves.

There was rough stubble on his chin, and he'd lost the last trace of boyish roundness his face had retained a year ago. 

They ran together, and it was exhilarating. 

"Now you show up, asshole..."

"You didn't want to see me?"

"I wanted to see you, you -" Kit glared at him - but a traitorous smile was threatening to ruin his severe expression. Despite his annoyance, he was happy.

As soon as they were out of sight of the hospital they crashed together, kissing, angry. 

"We used to be so good together, doc - " 

"You fuck off for a year and then talk about good together. Gotta be kiddin' me - "

Tearing at him, biting his lips, furious and wanting - 

"You know why I went. It's the same reason you never came after me."

Kit had nothing to say to that. Yes, Zach had been busy. They'd both had their plates full.

But it had been more than that. They'd gotten too close - something they'd wanted to avoid from the start.

They each had an absent parent and a messed up one, wrapped up in their own problems and self-centred in the way that suffering people often are. Where Kit now had a somewhat hapless uncle, Zach had a reserved, distant one, and a stern, demanding grandparent. 

Both of us would rather walk over burning coals than be vulnerable.

Kit had promised himself not to make any more friends, just stay focused. Put his family first. Zach had been the man who cared about no-on but himself - at least that was how Kit had always seen him.

Was it unfair to think of him that way? Oversimplified?

Safe to be around, because there was no chance he'd ever get sentimental.

And yet...they'd met up. Shared a greasy late-night meal, a listening ear, sex if they wanted it. Neither asking much of the other. Expecting nothing, accepting only what was freely offered. 

It had grown to be almost like friendship, without either of them realising it. Or...something other than friendship.

When it hit them - how easy they'd become in each others' company, snickering, causing trouble, playing their risky games - two years already had gone by. 

And just like that, Zach had melted into thin air.

So what were they doing here?

And why am I still so damn drawn to him?

He should be over it by now - the wave of lust the sight of Zach brought on. Not just his body, but even more the way he moved it, lazy and deliberate like a snake coiling 'round a branch.

Not just his face either, but it's expressions - heated, appraising, calculating - there was a challenge in his eyes, always.

I dare you, his look said.

The teenager found himself wanting to take that dare. He had never been one to back down from a challenge.

Kit was still pissed that Zach had taken it upon himself to separate them, without a word of warning or a 'so long', but he was right about one more thing.

The werewolf had made no attempt to look for him.

He jerked back, putting a hair of distance between them, breathing hard already.

"Why'd you come back?"

Instead of answering, Zach kissed him roughly, holding his face, devouring his mouth and Kit let himself be swept up in it, distracted.

His arm snatched the little wolf about the waist, picking him up and plopping him down on a steel electrical cabinet - covered in disintegrating posters - to kiss him again.

Kit was angry at him - but not angry enough to suppress the desire growing stronger every minute he spent in the other man's company.

It's been too fucking long.

Too long since he'd been with someone who made him feel like Zach did - who lit his body on fire, and knew just which buttons to press. 

Kit had picked up some strategies in counselling that helped him deal with the self-destructive urge to seek mind-numbing thrills. He could go a while without sex if he used them, and he had been sleeping around less during his internship, choosing to focus on school and work. 

As much as he enjoyed sleeping around, he didn't want it to dictate his life. 

But now, with Zach...he felt like a man starved. Kit wanted to let go with him. Stop holding back, stop thinking, give in to temptation for a day.

It just feels too damn good...

There was a frantic urgency to their touches after so long apart. Kit didn't say anything, just tore at him with his teeth, with his nails, letting the actions speak for themselves.

Lust, want, need. Anger.

He could control his werewolf traits now, but control had always been hard won for Kit.

On the other hand, letting go was easy. Acting on impulse, following his instincts and trusting where they led him, was simple. It didn't feel like slipping under the ice - more like unleashing a fire, letting it rage and burn and light him up.

Letting his mind go blank, Kit and nipped at Zach with his teeth, bruising but not breaking the skin, and tore at his clothes, focusing enough to keep his nails human and blunt.

He wasn't really made for temperance and prudence.

Hissing, the werewolf arched up into the older boy's touch, wanting more. 

Kit kissed him back, hungrily, violently, biting down on his split lip, licking into his mouth, his hands gripping onto the collar of Zach's leather jacket. 

"The stuff I'm going to do to you after we get wherever the fuck we're going," the taller man growled, yanking Kit's hair back to bite and suck over his Adam's apple.

"What - ah - what you wanna do to me?"

Zach groaned, stepping back but holding onto Kit's hand, letting it brush over the hardness in the front of his black jeans. 

"I want to hurt you," he murmured into his ear, making the smaller man shiver. "I want to feel you around me, watch you come for me, bleed for me, moan for me. Do you still like that, doc?"

"Fuh - yeah," Kit breathed, barely resisting the urge to bite his lip, feeling himself go fully hard in his uniform.

"This way. C'mon."

He led him to a parked black motorcycle, sliding a leg over the seat.

"No helmet?" 

Zach just shrugged, the bastard.

He looked dark and dangerous, older than the last time Kit had seen him. The wolf felt arousal flare low in his belly, mixing with the anger still burning there. He smiled. 

"I've been called out to crash sites for these things, you know."

"The contact area for each wheel is about the size of the smallest side of a matchbox," Zach supplied helpfully, "And they can go up to 200 mph. So, you riding? Or not?"

Kit glared at him. "You're a bad influence on me," he grumbled, sliding in behind him and giving him his address.

The oder boy laughed. "You're one to talk, doc. You're one to talk."

"Maybe I've changed. You don't fucking know me anymore."

"We can remedy that, don't worry."

Unlocking the worn wooden door, he pushed Zach into the dark apartment, growling low in his throat - almost purring - and thanking his lucky star that both his roommates had class or work at this time of day. 

Pouncing on the other man, hair still dishevelled from the short motorcycle ride, he pushed him into the hallway dresser, knocking over shoes and coats, biting him, opening the cut in his lip so that it dribbled blood. 

"You said you wanna hurt me?" he panted. "I want that. But believe me - I'll hurt you too. No pain, no game."

Spinning around, Zach slammed Kit against the wall and lifted his legs up around his waist as the werewolf tugged his belt loose.

"Bring it on."

Kit slung the belt around the bigger man's shoulders, using it to tug his mouth down onto his. 

His nails scraped through Zach's hair, but it was cropped to short now to provide a proper grip, so he tightened his hold on the belt and dragged the other man's face up. 

"My bedroom's that way," he told him, licking his own lips, already swelling up and growing tender from rough kisses and the scrape of Zach's short stubble. 

God, that stubble. 

He wanted to feel it all over his silky skin, everywhere. 

Zach pressed him up against the wall and Kit hooked his leg around the back of his knee, twisting and pushing away from the wall using his surprising strength. They toppled backwards, going down hard and rolling on the floor, tugging at each others' clothes. 

The only sounds were their harsh breathing, clicking angry kisses, and snarls and groans as they fought get on top, hold the other down. Every touch was a caress and a struggle at the same time.

Zach tore off Kit's work top and the plain white tee beneath it, tossing them to the side.

Kit attacked his leather jacket, unzipping it and and tearing open the dark shirt underneath, buttons scattering in every direction, and scratched his fingernails down the bared expanse of  bronze skin. 

They had only made it as far as the living room floor.

Lifting him - maybe Kit should complain about being manhandled but he fucking loved it, loved  feeling the muscles in Zach's arms bunch under the leather as he carried him - he kicked the door to the bedroom open, dropping the younger man on top of the bed.

Kit's room was as small and narrow as a closet, with one window facing a concrete wall, and just enough room for a single bed and a narrow desk and chair. 

There were a couple of shelves crammed with textbooks over it, drawers under the bed for his clothes, and an ashtray and dying plant on the windowsill, light filtering in through the blinds. 

His edition of Emergency Care in the Streets lay open on the desk, dog-eared and littered with post-its, and there were a few hoodies, sweatpants, and sneakers thrown haphazardly on top of the bed. Kit kicked them aside. 

Zach stepped back to kick the door closed and the wolf followed him up, grabbing the back of his jacket and tugging him back down onto the edge of the mattress.

Stumbling and landing half on the bed, he slid down to slump on the floor, back against the side of the bed, with a surprised - 

"Shit - !"

In a second, Kit was over him, hands coming up under his torn shirt, over his sculpted chest. Straddling his lap, knees splayed, he licked the blood from his lips. 

Zach groaned, fingers digging into Kit's hips. He bucked up roughly, his stiff prick rubbing against the smaller man's ass.

Kit let his head fall back, a small moan spilling from his lips.

He didn't want to wait - he wanted to feel that hot, branding hardness inside him, splitting him open...

"Lemme ride you," he demanded, nipping at the older boy's jawline, sucking a bruise underneath it. 

Zach's eyes glinted as he pulled the belt away from his own shoulders and neck, gaze raking down Kit's half-naked body.

"Let me tie you up and cut you while you do it," he countered, running the leather over his own face, taking it briefly between his teeth and biting down.

The werewolf almost groaned at the sight.

"I know you're pissed off," Zach purred, "But you know I like to take my time...play with my food. And right now, doc, you look like a damn buffet."

Slipping the belt around Kit, he wound it around his lower arms and wrists, tightening the buckle and tying it down while the boy held still, shoulders back, letting him do it. 

Now he would have to use the muscles of his legs and abdomen to steady himself...or rely on Zach to hold him up.

Swiftly unbuttoning Kit's dark blue uniform pants, he shoved them down (and his white cotton boxer-briefs with them), exposing him to the humid summer air, bound and undone, seated shirtless on his lap.

Zach grinned at him and Kit retaliated by grinding down on his still-clothed cock, showing teeth. 

Instead of halting him, Zach leaned forward to kiss his bare shoulder, reaching for his own black  shoulder bag. 

"Got you a housewarming present, doc," he said, biting down on the exposed skin hard enough to bruise and then laving his tongue over the indentations his teeth had left.

"Fuh - You c - ah - an bite harder," Kit panted, wriggling his hips on top of Zach's thighs, rutting forward against his stomach in search of friction. "Ngh, more."

But Zach had other ideas. He pulled out a bottle of scotch and a box of crystal glasses, pushing the box aside and holding up the whisky. 

Despite himself, Kit couldn't help but raise an eyebrow when he saw the label. He had spent enough time working extra in bars and restaurants during his studies to recognize it. 

Kitty had showed him the basics of making drinks - she had worked as a cocktail waitress and stripper and she'd bought spirits when she could afford to. Zach had taught him a lot more in the two years they'd been seeing each other on and off.

However, all his blood was currently rushing south, and most of his coherent thoughts with it. The ones left were mostly occupied with the way his dick throbbed, and how he loved the feeling of leather cutting into his skin - and how much he really wanted to goddamn move this along. 

The other youth wasn't having that. 

Opening the bottle with his teeth, he held it up to Kit's lips, tilting it back so that the younger man could take a long, burning gulp, amber liquid sloshing out of the corner of his mouth and running down his naked chest. 

Damn, that's a good scotch.

"Almost a waste to drink that this way," he rasped as Zach took a swig and then smirked, grabbing Kit by the back of his neck and dragging his mouth down to his.  

Their tongues warred, smokey, woodsy flavour of the whisky spreading between them, burning and numbing Kit's tongue.

It had to sting the cut on Zach's lip but he didn't show it, pulling back to slip two fingers between Kit's puffy, saliva-slick lips. 

"I can buy this stuff legally now  - I'm officially 21."

"Congrats," Kit huffed out, licking the two digits sloppily.

What the hell did Zach want - wish him a happy birthday? Express regrets? Make declarations of undying affection?

Unlikely.

No, he had to be here for something else. He had an agenda somewhere, if only Kit could spot it. Still, looking at him...the heat in his lower belly intensified, a coiling, heavy want, and he sucked on the long fingers in his mouth.

The year apart hadn't made Zach any less hot. His hair was shorter and he dressed more maturely, but he still had dark, sexy clothes and an absolutely filthy smile.

Kit let his eyes rove across his broad shoulders, down to his tapered waist - drank in the way he moved, leaning back and watching Kit in a way that was suggestive and seductive and entirely deliberate, the wolf knew - since he used it himself on occasion.

Even though he was aware of that...it was still working. He wanted the other man with a fierce heat. Kit wanted Zach to take him apart. Thoroughly.

Damn, he needed to get laid.

"I need to be fucked," he breathed, and saw the college student's pupils dilate, Zach's dark eyes devouring him.

"I need it so bad..."

Reaching down, Zach traced over the seam between his cheeks, prodding the tight little pucker, rubbing circles over his perineum to stimulate him from the outside. 

Kit growled and squirmed, pulling at the tight binds and trying to push back against that light, teasing touch.

"Stop being such a damn - hngh - "

Zach's finger breached him and he groaned, head lolling forward to rest against his shoulder as the older boy worked one finger in and out, slowly, dragging it over his rim. 

"So goddamn slow..." 

The digit left him entirely, and he felt Zach grab his chin with his clean hand and the belt around his wrists with the other, holding him stretched and pinned him between them. 

"You're impatient today, doc," he drawled. "High strung. A bit grumpy, hm? Maybe you need to loosen up."

And he let him go abruptly only to pour more whisky over his fingers before plunging two back in - 

"Aah! Fuck, aaahhh...ngh..."

Fuck, that burned, the stretch and the liquor both, and - 

"I love how you respond to that," Zach said, drinking in the sight of Kit, the sound of his gasp, his arched spine, pressing into his touch.

"Th - fuh - at's really dangerous - "

"But you've always loved a bit of danger, doc. And it's only a ti-ny amount."

He moved his whiskey-soaked fingers in and out of Kit's aching hole, slowly, giving him enough time to use a safeword if he wanted.

But he was right - Kit couldn't resist the lure of danger, the excitement of walking the line of what was safe and sane. He knew that alcohol bypassing the stomach - being absorbed directly into the bloodstream - was stupid and risky and he wanted Zach to do it to him.

This was why they were so bad for each other.

"You're such a shit..."

"Why does that get you off? Tell me why you like it so much." 

Fuck you...

Zach reached up with his free hand to rub over the little werewolf's chest, cruelly pinching his nipple to hear him gasp in pleasure. 

"Ah, hngh, you and your hard liquor..." he grumbled, eyes closing. 

"I am a bartender, after all. And I happen to think it pairs very well with you, doc... Unless you're complaining?"

Kit shook his head, mouth dry, thighs straining already from holding him still and upright under the onslaught of sensations. 

"It's only a little," Zach murmured, curling his fingers to reach his prostate, and Kit moaned into his mouth, forgetting about the danger. 

 This was what Zach did to him, what they did to each other... Danger turned into excitement, pain into pleasure, curses mingled with moans and caresses with cuts and bruises...

It was probably unhealthy, but fuck if he wasn't turned on. 

"Don't stop," he moaned, "Keep going, h-hah, yes... Mmpfh, ngh..."

The older boy kissed him, tongue thrusting into his mouth in rhythm with his fingers, stealing his breath away. 

When he withdrew them and Kit felt the wide, blunt head of his cock  - at what point had he managed to put on a condom? - the werwolf barely registered it, dizzy with mind-numbing lust and lack of oxygen. 

His hole tingled, clenching around empty air, and his dick was wet and leaking, a bead of precome dribbling down his shaft. Zach hadn't touched it. 

Panting, eyes glazed over, Kit wondered why they'd stopped.

Holding up a small, clear bottle of lube in a silent question, Zach quirked and eyebrow. The little wolf shook his head immediately. 

"Condom is enough," he rasped. "I want to feel it."

Want it to hurt.

Zach's eyes gleamed in the half-light filtering in through his dusty blinds.

"C'mon, Zach, make me feel you... Make me feel you tomorrow, every time I try to sit down."

That was all the encouragement the other man needed to grab his hips and push up into his tight heat. 

"Argh...ah, ah, y-yes - "

Kit panted into his shoulder, breathing through the exquisite pain as that thick cock breached him, stretched him, filled him up.

"Aaa..fill me, fuck me, hurt me, ah, Zach - "

Zach fucked up into him and Kit's words were cut off in a deep moan, his back arching as the older boy slammed him down on his cock, sheathing himself to the hilt. 

"Fuh - ahh! Ngh, ah - "

Giving him no pardon, the older boy pressed their foreheads together, holding onto his hips as he rocked into him.

It was too sweet, to tender a gesture. 

Kit attacked his mouth, raising his hips and sitting down hard, groaning as he was filled again, the burn, the sting of it, the pure sensation as his nerve endings lit up and short-circuited his thoughts.

Yes...yes. This.

Holding onto his bound arms, Zach steadied him as he raised himself up again and then sank down, rolling his pelvis and drawing a low, choked-off sound from the other man. 

"More, aah, hah...harder, slap me - "

Instead of obeying, the former bartender pulled a sleek folding knife from his inner pocket.

With a schick sound he flipped it open, one-handed, and trailed the pointed tip down Kit's chest.

"Yeah?" he asked.

"Mm, yeah," the werewolf breathed, and inhaled sharply as he felt a light sting over his sternum. As shallow nick.

Zach kissed it, lips staining crimson, as he slammed up into Kit. 

The younger man's eyes rolled back and he might have lost his balance if not for the other's steadying grip. 

"We could be so good," Zach whispered, licking the blood from his lips and taking another gulp of whisky, knife glinting in the dim light filtering down on them through the blinds.

"We could be - aaahh... oh, ahh - combustible. Bad."

"Good kind of bad," Zach countered, changing the angle of his thrusts to hit Kit's sweet spot and cutting off his retort, trailing the knife down his skin, making him gasp and mewl. 

"Oh, God, yes that's - "

"Mm," Zach said, kissing him.

His skin was growing slick with sweat, chest gleaming under the open jacket and ripped shirt. Kit could see his self-control slipping, brow knitting, jaw set - he was done teasing him. 

Finally. 

The wolf could feel need coiling in his lower abdomen, the sweet drag on his rim and the agonising pleasure-pain exploding from every hit to his prostate and thin red line on his skin too much but not enough at the same time, not enough to push him over the edge, just keep him trapped on the precipice.  

Suddenly, Kit felt a tug at his arms as Zach loosened the belt there, ripping it away and lifting him up.

"Gah!"

Throwing him up onto the bed, the bartender pinned his wrists above his head and shoved a knee in between his legs, spreading them and slipping back inside him as Kit groaned, his body yielding easily now, fucked open and slick.

Low in his gut, a coil was winding tight, need to come building, his flushed, weeping cock slapping against his belly with each of Zach's deep, brutal thrusts. 

The youth let his wrists go to lean back and strip out of his shirt and jacket, discarding them. 

Kit's eyes raked over his torso.

Hooking an ankle over Zach's shoulder, the wolf scooted his hips up onto his lap so that they were lifted off the bed, shoulders pressing down into the mattress, and guided the youth's hands to grip his waist. 

"Faster," he panted, reaching down to wrap a hand around his own throbbing cock. "Fuck me, Zach. Harder..."

His other hand fisted in the sheets, nails ripping through them as he moaned an thrashed, feeling that fat perfect cock nail his prostate, feeling it impale him, fill him to bursting.

"Yes, yes, yes - " he cried, hearing the loud slapping sound of skin against sweat-slick skin, hearing Zach's ragged breathing, feeling himself climb right to the edge.

Wound up tighter and tighter, he worked himself over, hand too-tight and rough. 

"Harder. Yes..." he hissed, one hand thrown up scratch broken nails over the plaster, grip onto the headboard, leaving bloody smudges there.

His blood. Zach's blood. It was violent and bloody and rapturous. 

"Aah! Ah, ahn, yes - more, Zach - !"

Kit whimpered, wrapping his legs around the older boy's hips to pull him deeper as he snarled and fucked into him, pistoning his hips.

In that moment it didn't matter that he'd disappeared for a year, that he was a goddamn jerk -

I'm no better -

"Ah!!! Fuck, yes, there - "

His back arched, head thrown back, messy curls, mussed sheets, and sweaty bodies filling up his cramped room.

To his werewolf nose, it would stink of sex for days.

Fuck, I want it to.

He felt the stretch, the pain, the weight pressing him into the cheap foam mattress and he moaned aloud, wanton, craving more.

More pain and more pleasure, more sweat and more blood - 

"Again, Zach, hurt me again - !" he demanded, breathless, planting his heels to push back against the young man's cock, fucking himself on it.

"Ha -a-ah! H-hurt me - !"

The bite of the knife was so sweetly sharp that he gasped, whine morphing into a moan halfway.

"Yes...aahn..." he gasped, shivering under the scrape of a blade along his jugular.

He touched the blood welling on his skin and brings the fingers to his mouth, licking and sucking them clean, moaning, Zach's heated eyes watching.

On his back covered in blood and sticky, burning, expensive whiskey, lightly scraped with the knife all over and gazed at like that...Kit felt pleasure wash over him, leaving him tingly and hot. 

Zach grunted. "Hah... Do you ever resent those people that try to change you, doc? Into someone better, perhaps? Into a good, polite, well-adjusted young man - "

"Ah-ah...ngh, fuck, Zach..."

"I'd bet that you do - sometimes. But with me, you don't have do be anything 'cept this - wanton and depraved. Greedy, reckless, insatiable, shameless...beautiful. Does it feel good?"

"Y-yeah, you know - gah, you know, ah, it does..."

It really did. It felt good to let go of his inhibitions with the older boy. It was true, what he'd said to the bartender years ago, when they were still just flirting - few people were comfortable playing as rough as Kit was.

"To bad that they can't see you like this, those people that think you need to better yourself. Idiots..."

Even those that had experimented with, say, bondage and pain-play might balk at blood, weapons, burning...mixed with alcohol and minimal negotiation.

Bad etiquette, Kit'd been told. He supposed that was true - he'd never given much for rules or safety. He wasn't well behaved or polite.

Zach knew just how to push him, just enough - far but not too far - how to intermingle his pain with both their pleasure.

But...as much as he'd missed this, the boy knew they weren't good for each other.

He liked being a better person now. Trying to make a decent life for himself. Occasionally enjoying rough sex...but with partners he didn't care about, who were less dangerous because they didn't drive him wild like this, didn't press all the right buttons.

When Zach fell forward, biting into the flesh of his shoulder hard enough to draw blood, Kit came with a horse yell, his orgasm punched out of him, twitching and spasming around the other man, milking his cock.

Zach held him down, covering his body and fucking into him.

Still grazing that little bundle of nerves with each rough thrust, he prolonged Kit's climax, drinking down his moans as they turned into overstimulated whines, and then pushed into him harder than before, deeper, a shudder racking through him.

Kit trembled around him, coming down from his own orgasm. His release was smeared between them, sticky and pale, and a last small spurt was wrung from his oversensitive cock as Zach came deep inside him, filling up the condom.

They lay together after, lax and panting, skin stuck together with sweat and come, whisky and blood, the sheets around them ripped and twisted, the smell of booze and sex thick in the air. 

"Mhm, you're such a douchebag."

Kit rolled on top of Zach and kissed him, lips sliding hot and slick together, tongues entwining, deep and dirty.

Kissing Zach was not some gentle, explorative dance - it was a battle for dominance every single time - even now, when they were both sated. 

The werewolf revelled in it.

Pulling back from the kiss, Zach stared up into his face with a small smile, stroking lightly along the line of his cheekbone. 

"When we were together - "

"We weren't together."

" - we were something."

"...Yeah. Lovers, I guess. Not - not in love."

"No, God forbid you ever let that happen..."

Kit looked away. "...You're the one that left."

Zach was probably as afraid of commitment as he was.

Let down by his parents and taken in by his grandfather, he had wanted the same thing the younger man did - connection without deep affection. If Zach had started getting attached, it made sense he would run for the hills, try to distance himself.

So why was he here right now? And...

Does it really matter, while he's kissing me like this?