Out of all the times Irwin imagined himself being in a police cruiser, he never entertained the idea that it would be because he’d done something good. Looking out the window for the entire drive, he tried to adjust to this idea, but he just couldn’t.

During the interview, he repeated all of his personal information. Once that was done, he retold what had happened exactly as it occurred. The words came with difficulty, and he found himself constantly doubling back on himself, amending a statement or else explaining why he used a specific word. The presence of the recording machine on the table didn’t do much to increase his confidence, as much as he tried to ignore it. His voice, his annoyingly high-pitched voice, was being preserved for decades to come in this moment and he kept mispronouncing “Victoria” and “interview.”

How bullshit was that?

He felt absolutely ridiculous. However, Janis listened without interrupting except to gently remind him what he’d been talking about when he faltered. By the end of the entire thing, he found himself relying on her more and more for those reminders. How talking could be so draining, he didn’t know.

Eventually, the interview wound down. Janis cut him off as he started to describe the part when the police arrived.

“Thank you, Irwin. I think we can rely on our own officers’ testimonies after that.” She reached over and turned off the recorder. “Now, are there any questions you would like to ask? I can’t guarantee I’ll have all the answers, or that I’ll be able to give you certain information, but you’re entitled to ask.”

“Who was he?” Irwin asked. “The shooter. Why did I feel like I recognized him?”

“Well…”

But he wasn’t done, once again gripped by the need to clarify. “I mean, that doesn’t mean anything, except you seem to know who he was. So…who?”

“We believe he is Kevin Leery. Do you know who that is?”

Despite not being entirely sure, Irwin felt a chill go down his spine. It was as if a cloud had descended upon the summer sun outside the window of the office, plunging them into darkness. He actually had to look outside to confirm that this hadn’t happened and was greeted with a view of warm rays of sunlight glittering against the skyscrapers on the horizon.

Janis seemed to be waiting, so he summoned his best guess. “Isn’t he some criminal?”

“Up until recently, he was suspected of the murder of two people. He didn’t show up for his court date and has been evading police detection for several weeks now. You can understand how this didn’t exactly shed a credible light on him.”

“Right.”

“But, your testimony matches up with his description. With this, in addition to some other factors, we strongly believe this was his doing.”

“But…why?”

“We don’t yet have a motive.”

Irwin shook his head. He was a thief. He’d vandalized. He’d done some bullying and taunting before, and he could understand the thrill a person might derive from such actions. But murder? A shooting spree in a populated place? The guy might not have been convicted before, but he sure as shit looked guilty now.

Murder…

“Shit,” he whispered. “Did he kill anyone? This time?”

Janis hesitated, and he half-expected her to come up with some sort of vague response. She seemed to reach some sort of internal decision, because she nodded slightly to herself. “Three people were shot and killed today. We believe they died instantly. Several others were injured in their hurry to leave the premises. A fight broke out, and a few people were stabbed.”

No words could really convey how he felt. He’d discovered both sides of the conflict now. One side was where people banded together, as he and the others had in the back of the ambulance. And the people on the other side? Well, they went around stabbing others.

“Do you have any other questions?”

Irwin shook his head. “No. I think I just want to go home.”

She nodded. “I understand. We can drop you off at your building, if you give us about 15 minutes to arrange transportation.”

I guess things are pretty chaotic at the moment.

He regretted being a nuisance. People had died and here he was, needing a ride home, safe and unharmed.

She led him out to the waiting area and pointed him towards an empty seat. There were few left, since the room was packed with unhappy souls all waiting for their chance to be interviewed. Irwin looked at them as he sat down and didn’t recognize anyone, which made him wonder if they were here for a different reason. Mentally shrugging, he sat down and prepared to wait.

About five minutes after he’d been waiting, he noticed an old man approaching. No one else seemed to be in a big hurry to give up their seat for him, so Irwin held out his hand as the man was about to pass.

“Would you like my seat?”

The old man stared at him and then Irwin realized why. His nerves were all shot to hell and he wasn’t noticing some incredibly important things, like the fact that the man in front of him was in a wheelchair.

By some miracle, the man decided to think this was funny and laughed. “Brought my own today. Thanks, though.”

Irwin tried to hide behind his hair as the man rolled off, still chuckling.

“Irwin?”

He looked up at that voice, not daring to believe what he heard. He must have been mistaken, must have been the victim of an illusion brought about by his tired mind and secret desires. But there he was. All six feet of him, rising like a tree over the heads of everyone else between them.

“Dogwood?” he said. “What are you doing here?”

His surprise didn’t do much to curb the desire to run to him, straight into the arms of a man he hardly knew. Any port in a storm would do.

Dagwood gestured for him to stand. He did so, though his legs felt wobbly from a combination of relief and exhaustion. They headed over against the wall, which provided a modicum of privacy from the rest of the people in the room.

“What are you doing here?” Dagwood asked, repeating his own question.

“What are you doing here?” Irwin challenged. “Were you there, too?”

Dagwood didn’t seem to need any explanation for such a vague question. He just sighed and shook his head. “No. But my gun was.”

“Your gun? Why do you have a gun? Wait, better question. Why didn’t you have your gun?”

“I have a gun because I need it for the work I do. I didn’t have it today because it was stolen from my hotel room.”

Irwin growled, frustrated. Had he really wanted this guy here? He was regretting that desire now, in the face of all these riddles. “The work you do? You told me you were a reporter.”

“I actually never gave my job a name, and I didn’t really get into specifics.” Dagwood frowned. His eyes seemed to glaze over with some sort of combination of realization and fear. “You were there?”

“Yeah.”

“Holy shit.” Dagwood’s eyes flew open wide. He reached out and gripped Irwin’s shoulders. The pressure was a bit too hard, but Irwin didn’t really care. He leaned into that hold, glad for the chance to let someone take a bit of the weight off his shoulders. “You were there. What did you see? Were you hurt? Why aren’t you in the hospital?”

Some of his gladness faded in the face of this outburst as being cared for transformed into being cared about. He wasn’t used to it. He didn’t know how to reciprocate. “I…”

“Irwin?”

He was getting so tired of people saying his name like that. He would dread It for years to come because what followed was never any good.

“Yeah?” he said, turning to face Officer Janis as she approached him.

“We can take you home now, if you’re ready.” She pretended to notice Dagwood, though her gaze was filled with such animosity it was startling. “I see you’ve made a friend.”

“Uh…”

What’s the deal with these two?

Dagwood stared directly into Janis’ eyes, challenging her, refusing to be cowed. “We’ve met before, yes. And if it’s fine with you, I’d like to be the one to drive him home.”

“That’s not fine with me, no.” Janis glared at him. “You aren’t the most trustworthy person in my book, Mr. King.”

“Your book isn’t what matters. If Irwin wants me to take him home, you have no authority to stop me.”

Almost in unison, as if this confrontation was rehearsed, they both turned to look at Irwin.

He stared back at them, wondering if he was supposed to comprehend this situation or if it was intentionally outside his understanding. Either way, he had to make a choice. The end result was going to make someone unhappy either way.

Going completely against his better judgment, he knew which one he would prefer to have on his good side.

“It’s okay,” he said to Janis. “I know him. I trust him.”

The delight that lit up Dagwood’s gaze was pure and wholesome, without any sort of triumph about having gotten his way. Irwin couldn’t help but to smile at him, wondering how such a powerful, skilled guy could be so darn cute.

Had he said cute? Somehow that was the right word. Almost cuddly.

Janis’s expression soured but she only shrugged. “Whatever you want. If anything comes up, be sure to call us, okay?”

“Okay,” Irwin said. “Thank you.”

She shrugged again and marched off deeper into the waiting room to fetch her next victim. Irwin looked after her, noticing the stiff way she moved, like an angry cat.

He looked back at Dagwood, who was only just now coming down from his state of bliss. “What the hell did you do to her?”

“I existed. Come on.”

“You’re going to have to explain that,” Irwin said. He folded his arms as he walked, but he was still too shaky for that and needed to drop them down by his side again for balance. As he did so, his hand knocked against Dagwood’s.

The alpha wolf stirred slightly but didn’t move away, nor did he push his advance. In the end, they just walked through the parking lot with their knuckles brushing together the entire time. By the time they reached Dagwood’s truck, Irwin felt much calmer, much more stable.

“I’ll explain everything,” Dagwood said. “But not here in the car. I want to get you home. You’ll feel better.”

Later, as Irwin stepped into his apartment, he did feel better. Home had never felt so much like home before, as if it was a sanctuary against the cruelty of the outside world. Either that, or he was just glad not to be sitting in the truck in silence while Dagwood stared at the road with unending patience. It was as if he’d never seen city traffic before and was studying it, attempting to learn everything about it.

Irwin flipped on the lights in the living room, then kicked off his shoes and let them land where they would. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Dagwood gazed around the apartment, looking conflicted. “Nice…uh…place.”

Irwin snorted. “No, it’s not. Don’t try to flatter me. But this is the way I like it.”

The way he liked it was chaotic. Not necessarily dirty, since he more or less kept up with his housekeeping chores—although right now the carpet needed vacuuming and the sink was filled with dirty dishes—but cluttered. Nothing had a spot so much as it had a designated area. Shoes couldn’t go on the furniture but by god, they could be anywhere on the floor. Stacks of comic books and cheap 99-cent fantasy novels covered the futon and coffee table. Used cups stood on the kitchen counter as if he was starting a collection.

Hell, even his furniture didn’t really have a cohesive position. Everything was aimed more or less in the direction of his TV, but aside from that he’d just kind of placed shit down when he moved in.

Dagwood wandered over to the windowsill, where five Venus Fly-Trap plants lounged, looking neither sickly nor in peak health. They simply were.

I can’t remember the last time I watered those.

“These are cool,” Dagwood said. He had the tone of a man who was trying very hard to think of something good to say.

“Thanks. Their names are Chompy, Bitey, Nibbles, Cruncher, and Steve.”

Dagwood actually laughed. Irwin stared at him, feeling something warm twisting around inside his stomach. No one else had ever found the names of his plants to be funny. No one else appreciated that sort of weird, lame humor. Except for Dagwood.

It’s probably pity.

But pity-laughs or not, he couldn’t get rid of the warm feeling inside. He felt a little bit like an over-excited teenager, too willing to jump on the slightest sign of interest coming from his crush. The fact that he hadn’t ever had a crush before didn’t seem to matter. He sure as hell had one now.

“Uh, do you want anything?” Irwin asked. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to remember if he even had anything to offer. “I could probably find something…”

“Coffee would be much appreciated, if you’ve got it.”

He wanted to deny having coffee, since the act of making coffee meant that he was committed to the time it took to brew a pot and for Dagwood to drink a cup. Fifteen minutes, probably more. Did he want another person in his place for that long, especially someone like this who he didn’t really know?

Surprisingly, the answer was yes.

I guess I’m just not really ready to be by myself yet.

“Yeah, I’ve got coffee,” Irwin said. “Sit down. I’ll start it.”

Rather than sitting down, Dagwood followed him over to the small, cluttered kitchen alcove to watch, though he stood politely out of the way. “You like to read.”

“You haven’t even seen my office yet,” Irwin replied.

Dagwood blinked. “You…have an office?”

It was really just a tiny storage room filled with stacks of books, but Irwin nodded. “Yep. Sure do.”

“Please, don’t think I’m trying to be mean or anything, but you didn’t strike me as the type of guy who likes to read.”

Irwin shrugged, spooning coffee grounds into the basket. He had no idea what amount was appropriate. He usually just eyeballed it and either arrived at a result that was just okay or else way too strong. “When I lived at home, it was video games. Turns out, that shit gets expensive when you’re paying for your own internet and everything.”

“Did you like those fish games?”

Irwin stared at him.

“Cod?”

He decided not to answer that. “I’ve always liked fantasy stuff, so it was kind of easy to sell all the games for some extra cash and start picking up books instead. Whole hell of a lot cheaper, although most of them suck.”

Even though he was being watched the entire time, Irwin managed to keep his hands from shaking as he finished with the coffee pot and pushed the ON button. When he turned around to announce this, he realized that Dagwood wasn’t beside him anymore. Instead, he was over in the corner of the living room, puzzling over a bird cage. The cage was massive, though it seemed much smaller when compared to Dagwood. It was also completely empty, devoid of birds and bird toys.

“What’s this?” Dagwood asked.

Leaving the burbling coffee pot to do its work, Irwin walked over to stand by Dagwood. “Well,” he said. “It’s a cage. You’ve fallen into my evil trap. Get inside.”

Dagwood laughed. “I think you’d need a bigger cage. So, what is it?”

“Well, it’s a cage, like I said.” Irwin paused, surprised at the memories trying to overcome him. A lump formed in his throat, composed not of tears but all the words he wanted to say. However, all the words in the world wouldn’t do justice to what he felt. It seemed useless to try. Yet, looking at Dagwood, seeing that the man was waiting for him with complete patience and interest, he really wanted to try.

“I had birds growing up. Budgies.”

“Budgies?” Dagwood frowned. “I’m not really a pet man. Sorry.”

Irwin shrugged. “Parakeets. Budgies. I had two. The first one I got was Spike. He came from a shelter. We were both five, and my parents thought I’d like that.” He couldn’t help the smile spreading across his lips. “I did. Spike and I went everywhere together. Just rode around on my shoulder all day. I think he was just happy to have someone who loved him. Anyway, he died when we were 11.”

Now that he was speaking, he couldn’t seem to stop. “Spike was this big green guy. Didn’t think I’d ever want another bird after he died but then, I kept going into pet stores anyway. Because I liked looking at the birds. And one time there was this little green parakeet just sitting in the bottom of the cage, looking unhappy. And that was Spike Junior. He died shortly before I moved here.” Irwin shrugged. “I guess the timing worked out, since pets aren’t allowed here anyway.”

Dagwood touched his hand very softly, their knuckles brushing together again. “But you kept the cage?”

“Well, it’s a nice cage,” Irwin said, surprised at how defensive he suddenly felt. “It’d be a waste to just like, get rid of it. And I want another bird someday. When I leave here. I just don’t know when that’ll be.”

He didn’t want to entertain the possibility that he might leave this apartment but not have somewhere else to go, although that possibility looked more and more likely as the days passed. How could anyone want to hire him now when he’d brought such bad luck to his last potential employer? Never mind that it hadn’t been his fault. He was a jinx, bad luck embodied. Sure, it was unlikely that they would know his name, but he had no doubts in his mind that the real reporters would find out and put it in the news. After all, he was a hero.

“What’s with that face?”

He hadn’t realized he was grimacing. “Sorry. Nothing. Is the coffee ready yet? Let me check.”

It wasn’t, which meant he had to endure more conversation. It wasn’t exactly unpleasant, but damn, he was out of his league with all of this.

“You know you don’t have to be nervous, right?”

Dagwood looked right at him, his gaze pure and open. He seemed somehow younger than his age, despite all the gray in his hair.

“I’m not nervous,” Irwin said. Though this was the truth it seemed like a lie, so he amended it. “Just overwhelmed. A lot happened today, you know?”

“Why don’t you tell me about it?”

He didn’t want to. He’d rather forget this day ever happened, forget what he had seen. He wanted to forget the fear, the feel of blood pumping up beneath his fingers, the smell of it all. He wanted to forget…and that was suddenly the reason he started talking again, letting all the words tumble out for the second time in so many hours. Speaking somehow seemed to get rid of the cobwebs draped around his mind, airing things out in there. It was as if he wasn’t merely expressing his burden but was sharing it, letting Dagwood shoulder some of the worst of it merely by saying the words. Whatever strange magic caused that, Irwin was glad for it.

Standing in front of the bird cage, remembering his two little Spikes, he told Dagwood the story exactly as he’d told it to Janis.

Except not.

It was easier this time. He didn’t know if that was because he’d already had a bit of a rehearsal or if it was because of the person he was speaking to. He didn’t really want to understand which reason it really was, but there was no denying that it felt pretty good when Dagwood reached over and held his hand.

As he reached the end of his story, starting to wind down, he clutched tighter at Dagwood’s fingers. Reaching out, Dagwood clasped his hand between two of his own and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“You’ve been through a whole hell of a lot today,” Dagwood murmured. “But here you are. I’m proud of you.”

Why that statement made a lump form in his throat, even more than the memories of his precious pet birds, Irwin didn’t know. He thought he might slowly be beginning to understand that maybe, just maybe, he didn’t have to. Not everything needed an explanation. Some things…

He looked at Dagwood.

Some things just were.

It felt as if he was looking at Dagwood for the first time, noticing all over again the aristocratic formation of his facial features, the sinewy strength of his body. Though these feelings were strange to Irwin, as he’d never had them before, he knew that the warmth in his stomach, the tension in his groin, was sexual in nature.

Dagwood turned to look at him. The harsh fluorescent light from the ceiling fan fell across his face, catching in the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and mouth. His age suddenly seemed to not be a drawback but a feature, a distinguishing mark which set him at a level above all the rest. Everyone else Irwin knew seemed to still be in the process of figuring out their lives, constantly shifting and fluctuating. That included himself. Dagwood was different, steadier. He had everything all figured out.

I think I’m going to kiss him.

Having never kissed anyone before, Irwin couldn’t have said if this was a good idea or not. He didn’t care. The warmth inside him was too much to ignore.

He had just risen up to stand on his tiptoes, heart pounding, and Dagwood was turning towards him, one hand reaching for his waist, his ass, he didn’t know…and the lights went out.

They came back on immediately, but that momentary surge was all it took to break the mood. As the light returned, Irwin saw that Dagwood had put several feet of distance between them and was looking resolutely into the bird cage as if it might have something very important to tell him. Though nothing about his features had changed, he suddenly looked very tired. And pale.

“Are you okay?” Irwin asked. His voice came awkwardly. The hypnotic desire to kiss the other man had faded, leaving him almost empty in its wake.

“I’ve been better.” Dagwood spoke roughly, his voice raw. He no longer seemed as composed as he once had. In that moment where they nearly kissed, when they had been losing themselves to animal desire and need, had they been somehow more in control as well? Right now, Irwin felt as if he had lost something very important that he might not ever get back.

The chance was gone.

“What happened with the lights?”

“Oh…” Irwin blinked rapidly, trying to get himself together. “Just a power surge. It always does that when the coffee is done brewing.”

“Really?”

“No.”

Dagwood stared at him, looking uncertain as to whether or not this was a joke that he should be laughing at. “But it was a power surge?”

“Oh, yeah. They do happen all the time. This place isn’t exactly rock-solid, you know. Anyway, um, I do think the coffee is done. So…”

The next few minutes were full of tense silence as Irwin fetched mugs for the coffee. He had quite the collection of mugs, encompassing not just one but two full cupboards’ worth of spares. He chose one with a bunch of cartoon parakeets on it for himself, while he handed Dagwood a plain black one with a very chipped rim. A person would be hard-pressed to find a mug he owned that wasn’t chipped. Unlike a lot of people, he didn’t believe in collecting merely for the sake of collecting. He liked to use what he owned. If that meant occasionally banging it on the counter or even dropping it, then so be it.

“Why do you get a cool birdy mug and I don’t?” Dagwood said.

Irwin glared at him, took the mug out of his hand with a bit more force than was necessary—though he hoped that it came across as playful, since that was how he meant it—and then handed over a mug with lovebirds printed all the way around it. Dagwood seemed pleased by this, and genuinely pleased, at that. Irwin had to wonder how hard a person’s life could be before a pretty cup made them happy.

They made their coffee together in more silence. Dagwood had his black with a bit of sugar, while Irwin loaded up his with enough cream and sugar to turn the brew a shade of off-white.

“Why even have coffee at all?” Dagwood asked.

“Because it’s more acceptable than just getting out a cup of milk and putting sugar in it. That stops being cute when you’re like, eight.”

Dagwood followed him to the living room and lowered down on the futon, which squeaked and groaned beneath his weight. He didn’t seem to mind, however. Leaning back, he sipped at his coffee with something like enjoyment even though Irwin was pretty sure he’d bought the cheapest kind possible. Not even store brand, just the canister with a white label that said COFFEE.

“I really needed this,” Dagwood sighed. Steam wafted up around his face as he breathed.

Irwin nursed his cup of coffee-flavored milk, though not because he was waiting for it to cool down. No, it was already lukewarm. He just recalled the attention Dagwood had given him before the last time they sat down together like this, at the pizza place. He’d managed to ignore that intense stare partly because he found it amusing and partly because he’d been too focused on eating, but this time there were no other distractions to prevent him from realizing that it wasn’t so much funny as it was exciting.

“You said drinking milk with sugar stops becoming cute at eight?”

“Yeah?”

“How long did you do it for?”

Irwin nearly inhaled the sip he was about to take. “Sixteen, I think?”

Dagwood smiled, but the expression didn’t last. He set his mug down heavily on the coffee table and then turned towards Irwin. “I’m ready to tell you the truth.”

Irwin felt his lower stomach tremble with anticipation. Slurping up a mouthful of sweet coffee, using those few seconds to earn him enough time to gain composure, he managed to nod. “Okay,” he said.

“There are more politically correct ways to describe what I do these days, but I like the old term better. It’s more truthful, more to the point.” Dagwood seemed restless, reaching out to pick up his coffee before setting it back down again only a heartbeat later. This behavior in an otherwise composed man was unsettling, making Irwin feel as if he had stumbled across a secret.

“After all,” Dagwood continued, “asset protection could be anything from a mall cop to some sort of hacker guy. But I’m not either of those. Irwin, I’m a bounty hunter.”

Suddenly their whole conversation about job requirements made a lot more sense. Irwin leaned forward. His hands shook on his cup, and he nearly dropped it. Dagwood reached out to steady him but drew back before contact was made.

“How does someone get to be a bounty hunter?” Irwin asked.

His interest appeared to surprise Dagwood. The other man was probably ready to describe exactly what he was doing here, to tell the most recent part of the story, but that wasn’t what Irwin wanted just yet. He had other questions which needed answered.

“Well, I told you that I was in martial arts as a kid, and then I started assisting with the classes. That was the only thing I seemed to be good at, Irwin. I was an okay student, but my math skills weren’t going to get me anywhere, and I didn’t really seem to have…a trade. I wasn’t enough of anything to do good anywhere. Except for karate. Except for fighting. So, that’s what I did.

“After high school, I tried entering wrestling matches but that just didn’t satisfy me. So, I got a job as a bouncer at a club. And I was good at it. And then I was a security guard at a whole bunch of different places. Mostly banks and jewelry stores.”

“Why did you have so many jobs?”

“Wasn’t the places, it was me. I would get tired of spending all my time in one place, so I’d jump around. Everyone was always willing to hire me. I had a damn good reputation.”

“But I got tired of hanging around in buildings all night. I moved to freelancing. If anyone needed a night of protection, a few days, a temporary position filled, I was their go-to. I intimidated a lot of ex-husbands back in those days, let me tell you. Really, that was kind of how I got into bounty hunting. Some woman—I wish I could remember her name—approached me for work because her ex hadn’t shown up for her court case, and she was scared stiff. I couldn’t just sit by and not do anything, so I went out and tracked him down.” Dagwood rubbed the back of his neck. “I didn’t even know there was a reward out for him. I just went to the place where the lady said he liked to hang out before they got a divorce and there he was.”

Irwin leaned forward, fascinated by the turn of events. He felt as if he was listening to a fantasy audiobook, following along with an illogical, yet plausible, plotline.

“It was almost like he knew I was there for him. He picked a fight with me. I’m not sure how I managed to do it, but I ended up intimidating him into backing down, and then I called the cops. And afterwards…after I had the money…after everything kind of settled down and I was back to freelancing, I realized how much similar the two were. And I liked the bounty hunting aspect better. I could move around, go at my own pace. So I made the transition. It wasn’t hard. And I never looked back.”

“And now you’re here,” Irwin said. “Hunting that Leery guy.” It was the only logical conclusion. Kevin Leery was a wanted man and Dagwood chased wanted men.

“Yes.”

Dagwood brought him up to date on his travels up to this point. Irwin listened just as intently as before, but most of the information wasn’t important, involving a series of investigations and subsequent movements from one place to the next. All of it culminated in their meeting on the night Dagwood came into town.

Irwin sipped at his coffee, which had gone cold and resembled milk now more than ever. “Wow,” he breathed. “It’s almost like fate brought us together.”

Dagwood sat up straight and stared at him, an almost painful sort of hope bright in his eyes. “What did you say?”

“I…don’t know. Don’t push it.” Baffled at his own behavior, Irwin looked away. He was relieved when Dagwood did as he asked and kept silent, not pressing on the matter.

Truth was, he knew what he’d said but not why he’d said it. They were strangers. They hardly knew each other.

Yet, for shifters, and for wolves especially, connections such as this were often quick. That part of their personality belonged to their animal counterparts, and it was a difficult adjustment to make, to realize that not everything meaningful had to be the result of a long courtship. Some things simply were. Irwin was realizing that this just was. He couldn’t explain it. Out of all the people he had never been attracted to, here was a guy old enough to be his father, inspiring feelings in him the likes of which he never imagined were possible for him.

Then again, maybe all his realizations right now were just the result of the terrible day he’d endured. He was open, too vulnerable, searching for meaning where there wasn’t any.

He knew all this, but he couldn’t figure out how to express such things out loud, to translate feeling into words. Because of that, he kept wavering between opposite extremes.

Dagwood just sighed softly, interrupting the quiet that had fallen between them. “You know the backstory now. I might as well tell you the rest.”

Holding up one hand, Irwin stopped him. “Won’t…won’t that put me in danger? If you tell me everything you’ve found out?”

He was about to be hit with a revelation, that much was certain. At the very least he might find himself privy to information not available to the public.

Dagwood looked at him. His eyes no longer seemed so sweet. Now they were as thick as the bark on an ancient oak tree, impenetrable and unfathomable. Who knew what those layered depths really held?

“Irwin,” he said, “I think you’re already in danger.”

That was enough to convince him. “Okay,” he said, very softly.

Dagwood told him the rest. This time, Irwin listened without interrupting except for the part where Dagwood revealed that he had been bitten by a viper.

“How are you not dead?” Irwin gasped.

Dagwood grimaced. “She said something about adults being snakes able to control how much venom they put into each bite. I still feel like shit, but even when I feel better, I’m not going to be able to forget about her anytime soon.”

To explain what he’d just said, Dagwood pulled down the collar of his shirt to reveal two deep, shriveled scars where the viper had struck.

Irwin whistled softly with appreciation. Those scars might not look like anything impressive but the fact of the matter was that their presence alone spoke volumes. He didn’t know many shifters with scars because they all healed so quickly. A scar meant there had been some fierce hurt going on. Those sunken, twisted spots of flesh looked like they were the results of an acid attack rather than a bite.

Dagwood continued with the rest of his tale. Irwin really only half-listened, too caught up in his newfound respect for the other man. There was something to be said for a guy who could face his own death and yet come out of it so normal. Having faced his own brush with an ending, Irwin couldn’t even imagine the level of composure and personal conviction Dagwood must possess. For his own part, he started feeling sick and shivery whenever he thought about looking down the barrel of that pistol.

They sat and finished their coffee. Irwin pushed his mug aside so hard that it nearly fell over and grabbed for the TV remote, wanting something to do with his hands. At the same time, Dagwood said, “Maybe some background noise?” and reached for the remote as well. Their fingertips made contact, gliding together.

Irwin stopped, a sort of choking sound rising up in the back of his throat even though he wasn’t aware of it. Though they had touched before, nothing like this had happened. It was as if their mutual understanding of the other’s situation kindled a fire between them, setting them ablaze. It felt as if his entire arm burst into flame, as if his entire body was dry kindling and quick to follow, until he was as overheated as a fireplace. The heat seemed to gather in his middle, at the very core of himself. All he could do was sit there and stare at their hands gently touching over the top of the TV remote, baffled at the intensity of feeling which had resulted from it.

This must be what lust felt like. Desire. Irwin knew, now. The near-kiss from before paled in the face of this. That had been want. This was need.

Judging from the expression on Dagwood’s face, and the bulge in his jeans, the other wolf felt the same way. But there was more at work than simple guessing, more clues to go on than mere assumptions. Irwin could taste it in the air, a sort of static that was filled with an electric charge. He could smell his own desire and Dagwood’s answering lust, like musk. He could feel it, in the other’s rapid pulse, the tension of the muscles underneath his skin.

He felt as though if he even tried to say anything, the sound would be lost beneath the fierce crackling of flames. All the same, he tried. “Dagwood…”

Dagwood looked at him. His eyes were no longer sweet, his expression no longer so serene or kind. A wild animal lived inside him, and it was at the forefront now, having clawed its way to the surface at the thought of prey. He looked like a hunter about to pounce.

Irwin took a deep gulp of breath and waited, trembling, knowing what he wanted to do but not quite how to get there.

Dagwood moved, but his movement ran completely counter to everything Irwin expected. The alpha pulled away.

The level of fire burning inside Irwin suddenly abated, though it was not extinguished. The blaze was too strong for that. Disappointment lodged in the back of his throat, a jarring sensation in the face of what they had seemed to be working towards. He felt as if he’d fallen several feet, enough to be painful and to knock the air from his lungs, but not enough to hurt. No, he sensed that drop just ahead, and he was suddenly afraid that all of this had been one big misunderstanding. Dagwood was fascinated with him, had been ever since seeing Irwin in the well, but that didn’t necessarily mean he held any level of physical attraction for him.

“I’m sorry,” Irwin said.

At the same time, Dagwood said, “Irwin, we can’t.”

Not that he doesn’t want to. But that we can’t.

“Why?” Irwin whispered. He felt too caught up in this, as if he had been ignoring himself for far too long, and now he was committed. He wanted to fuck Dagwood.

Dagwood lowered his eyes, a distinctly submissive gesture for an alpha. “Because,” he said, “you’ve had a hell of a shitty day. You’re all over the place. Doing anything with you would be just…taking advantage. And you don’t really want me. I’m too old.”

Irwin tilted his head a little. “But I think I do want you.”

“Thinking it isn’t good enough. You have to know.” Dagwood looked away slightly. His nostrils flared, as if taking in a particularly good scent. Irwin wondered what he himself smelled like. “I know. I’ve known for a damn long time. But you…It’s just not the right time for you. I should go.”

Dagwood actually started to stand up as he said that last part. He hid his face behind his long, dark hair, as if trying to conceal some shameful secret. Irwin grabbed his wrist and held on tight. He was a lightweight even compared to Dagwood, who was slim for an alpha, but Dagwood paused as if he was the heaviest weight in all the world.

“Wait,” Irwin said. “I’ve never wanted to fuck anyone before.”

Dagwood paused. His gaze flicked down to Irwin’s crotch and then back up, as if he was trying to ask a question but wasn’t sure of what words to use.

Irwin’s erection was so painful, his body so ready and willing, that his legs were shaking and he felt weak. The omega in him wanted so badly to just lie down and be claimed, but this wasn’t the time for that yet. If he went submissive now, he would never get what he wanted.

“It’s true,” he insisted. “I’m kind of a virgin by choice, you know? No one’s ever done it for me before. I pretty much decided I was asexual. But now you’re here and you’re making me feel all these things I never knew I was going to get to feel, and I…want you. Please, Dagwood.”

Maybe it was what he said, or the way he said it, or the fact that he addressed his companion by his actual name instead of that teasing version of it. Either way, Dagwood hesitated.

Irwin took the chance and stood up on his tiptoes, and shoved their lips together. Their mouths mashed together, and then he pulled away and stared up into Dagwood’s eyes, daring him to deny what just happened.

For a first kiss, he thought it was pretty good. That was what they did in the movies, anyway. Just jumping on each other like that, taking the other person by surprise.

Dagwood looked down at him, then touched his own lips with two wondering fingers. Then, he laughed.

Irwin smiled, because he also laughed when he didn’t know what else to do. That was a bad habit of his that had gotten him in trouble on more than one occasion.

He must be impressed with me.

But then Dagwood was shaking his head, still smiling. “I can tell you’ve never kissed anyone before.”

Irwin stared at him, then planted his hands on his hips. “Excuse me?” he said.

Dagwood looked at him and grinned, clearly knowing how offended Irwin was. The dark, hungry look in his eyes had lightened, beaten back slightly by his amusement. “No finesse at all. Yes. That’s you. That’s my Irwin.”

My Irwin.

Neither of them brought attention to that statement as it hung in the air between them. It just seemed to be.

Irwin felt his body responding. His thoughts grew hazy. Yes, he was Dagwood’s. At the very least, he wanted to be. He wanted to belong somewhere, to someone, to feel that he had a position in the world where he could stand and get his bearings.

Another kiss seemed out of the question, so he did as instinct demanded. Taking Dagwood’s hand in his, Irwin guided it around to his waist. Dagwood held on there automatically as soon as they touched, almost clinging. Irwin did the same thing for the other hand but now he put this one on his ass. Hard fingers pressed deep into his flesh. He whimpered, feeling himself respond to the sparks of heat.

Dagwood tightened his grip and now there was no escape for Irwin. He looked up at that regal face descending so grandly towards his and was happy about this, because the fact that he was trapped meant he had also succeeded in snaring Dagwood.

“Dammit,” Dagwood whispered. The caress of his breath on Irwin’s lips was like a kiss in and of itself. Then their lips touched, and Irwin realized he had been wrong about that. Nothing was like this kiss, and nothing would ever be like it again. It was as if their mouths danced, waltzing tenderly like young lovers at their first party. Their lips settled together but so softly, so sweetly, that the contact was more of an afterthought in the face of everything else going on. Irwin could feel Dagwood breathing, tasted coffee, and knew that he was being similarly tasted. Hot, rapid exhalations on his lips as they shared their breath between them. Brief contacts, flicking here and there. A wet tangle of tongue, asking, teasing.

Then they were apart again, and all Irwin could do was stare up at his companion, shaking so hard that he could barely stand. He hardly needed to stand under his own power at all, however. Firm hands held him tightly from behind, and now they pulled his body flush against Dagwood.

He felt an erection grind hard against his thigh, felt his own eager dick pushing right back at Dagwood. They were chest-to-chest, stomach-to-stomach, and now he had his arms around Dagwood’s neck and they were kissing again.

Irwin lost himself in the midst of delight, unhinged in the face of pleasure. He squirmed, grinding and writhing, pushing harder against Dagwood as if to make their two bodies become one. In response he felt Dagwood massaging his ass with pressing, demanding fingertips, calling to something deep inside him.

“Ah,” Irwin whimpered. He couldn’t help it. He shook all over, mouth slightly open still even as their kiss broke off. His groin was so tense and tight, and he felt so on the edge. The mere slightest touch in the right place would make him cum in his pants, like a teenager who hadn’t yet learned restraint.

He masturbated, but like any young man without a partner, he always sought quick release. Already this teasing session had gone on longer than he knew he could last, and there hadn’t even really been any touching yet.

“How are you doing?” Dagwood asked. His voice was sexual, a sensual growl. “Had enough?”

Irwin had no idea when the tables had turned, when he went from being the one doing the teasing to the one who was teased. He arched his back slightly, pushing his ass against Dagwood’s fingers, which dug harder against him. “No,” he gasped. “Not enough.”

Dagwood looked into his eyes and kissed him again, but this time it was short and fierce instead of prolonged and tempting. “Are you sure?”

This was his last chance to back out. Irwin looked at him and said, “Yeah. Yes. I’m sure.”

He found himself swept off his feet, quite literally. Dagwood’s grasping hands were beneath his ass now, supporting him. Irwin reached up and wrapped his arms around Dagwood’s neck, and then hooked his legs around the subtle curve of the alpha’s waist. Hanging like that, holding on and being held, he felt more secure than he ever had before in his entire life.

Dagwood took him down the hallway, in the direction of his bedroom. “Lube?” he whispered. His breath rasped softly against Irwin’s ear, inspiring a whole new host of feelings inside him.

“Bedroom,” Irwin said.

“Condoms?”

Irwin didn’t deign to answer that question. He was a single virgin with no interest—until now—in physical contact or relationships. What use would be possibly have for condoms?

Dagwood seemed to realize that the point was moot. He hesitated, and Irwin was almost terrified that he would call this whole thing off. Then the alpha said, “I’m sure we’ll be fine.” And with those famous last words, he took Irwin to the bedroom.