There's only one guy in a hot red car who doesn't look like he's fulfilling his midlife crisis. Amare and any other kid who somehow got their hands on that sort of engine. He had killed it twenty minutes ago due to impatience and was leaned up to the side, near where the front tire was, smoking a cigarette.

It was like when a hostess said it would be five more minutes and it ended up being fifteen. He couldn't exactly sudoku away the fucking time.

So he missed it, initially. That moment where the chicken wire fence yawned open and Dirk strolled out like they always show it in the movies. Yeah, they gave him money for bus fare and a meal but that was about it. Most people just had to hope someone would show up. Amare was busy fucking away the time on his phone. What day was it? Was it the wrong day?

The habitual glance over his shoulder wasn't supposed to see Dirk. It caused him to do the metaphorical double-take of the situation. Just as he was about to turn away he realized what he saw, pocketed his phone and shoved off the car. His smile was all glass and blood like the first time Dirk had seen it.


The moment he saw the back of Amare's head, Dirk's breath stilled in his throat. His eyes widened and even misted a little bit. He hadn't really realized how much, how painful, missing someone was until he saw him again. Even from the back, even without being noticed first. He knew the angle of that lean against the car, of the neck that bore the head that gazed into whatever it was in his hand. Dirk knew and for the moment was frozen to the spoke. Amare had come for him.

Relief flooded through and anxiety was replaced with complete and total joy. The second that his feet would move, he bolted straight for Amare and that red hot rod. Without even realizing it he let out a very loud Rebel Yell that would have struck fear in a battalion of Yankees.

"Amare!" he called out as he ran. Whether or not Amare was ready for it, Dirk took a leap about five feet from Amare with his arms and legs spread wide. He was going to tackle Amare, kiss him, roll in the gravel and bite every part of him that he could.


There's one second that allows his smile to get as broad as a murder just before Dirk lands. The impact, even if he did expect it, causes him to walk backward several strides until his calves touch the front of his car. His arms wrap like a chokehold around Dirk.

No more guards to shoot them dirty looks. Just the two of them in a parking lot.

"Hey, babe," he wondered if the word babe sounded rough, like he didn't know how to pronounce it or if his tongue had forgotten how to word out the syllables. The smell of Dirk was intense, presses up against him. There was also something else- old Dirk, what had been lingering in his pre-prison get up and was mixing with him now.


While Amare had held his own and they managed not to tumble, Dirk was like a man possessed. Clothes were in the way. He needed to feel skin. Hot, scarred, soft and intensely scented skin. His mouth needed to devour, his urge to fill all senses with Amare was strong and immediate. In response to Amare's words, Dirk growled and attacked. His mouth smashed into Amare's and his fingers tore at the black clothing that was in his way.

He felt feral, as if he'd been starved for years and Amare was the feast. He couldn't get enough! His feet kicked and he hugged with his thighs to Amare's hips. "Gah!" he came up for air and threw his head back. God!


Dirk was passion. He was a hot sigh in the night, unabashed and raw. More loving that Amare sometimes could even think to be, but they both knew a thing or two about passion. They knew what adrenalin tasted like and how to get it.

The top two buttons of his shirt had popped off, disappearing somewhere in the parking lot. Red marks from where he'd claws to open him up were still blushing. Then his tongue, his mouth and throat, were disappearing in a kiss.

Drik threw his head back and he finally got to breath. His arms tightened, "Let's get the fuck outta here and not arrested again." At that point his grip loosened and he cleared the hood of his red car to get to the driver's seat.


When Dirk's chin dropped back down, he admired his handiwork. He could see red, bright and beautiful and inviting. So, so inviting. Amare was letting go, releasing his grip and Dirk dropped to the ground on his ass with a thud. The words had been heard through the misty haze of wanton need, that prized adrenaline and lust. He shook his head and got to his feet, not bothering to dust himself off.

For keeping that smoke out of reach, Amare earned himself a full body lean against his chest and a grind of hips against his stomach. He smiled as he gazed into Amare's eyes and just as his fingers touched Amare's hand, Dirk lowered his head and blessed Amare's already bruised lips with a gentle, loving kiss. His eyes rolled closed and he sighed softly as he shared that quiet and true moment. It was over nearly as fast as it had started.

The cigarette was taken and he rolled into the passenger seat with little hesitation. Something had to give or they'd go no where. He didn't sit, though. Instead he lay upon his side, his hands roaming over Amare's neck and up to his jawline. "Fuck you're so beautiful," he sighed and exhaled a blue plume of smoke.

"I bet they enjoyed the peace and quiet," he chuckled and leaned to nibble on Amare's earlobe. "We've got a lot to make up for."


"Yeah." He said it like he knew he was beautiful. He did. He knew it like it was a prize he hadn't been asked to get but was awarded one too many times. Now it was a smartass trophy to receive, an A for Effort. That wasn't what Dirk was saying, though. Part of Dirk's love for him was that he had attained him and at some point knew that he had attained him. Amare was beautiful because he belonged to Dirk. Amare was beautiful because he'd been a tornado the day they met. Not everyone got to call a tornado their own.

Right now, Dirk was pristine. He hadn't broke his skin once, not even with kissing. All the blood and bruising was Dirk's handwork, spreading like a signature all over his car. He drove, the wind sucking the smell of everything past his nose and out the window.

"Yes," he agreed, drawing in a breath and holding it before he spoke, smiling out the corner of his mouth to Dirk, "yes you do."


No small part of Dirk's attraction to Amare was due to the amount of ego that it took just to respond in the affirmative to loving praise. Amare made no qualms about his self-importance or admiration. For someone like Dirk, full of self doubt and constant second guessing, it was a blessing that Amare was none of those things. Amare was a rock, unchanging and unpredictable. And he did belong to Dirk. A small part on a keychain, the rest across his heart in big, bold, scarred lettering.

It hadn't dawned on Dirk that he'd remained unblemished during their reunion. In his rush to be one with Amare, he'd bitten and clawed, kicked and torn Amare's clothes and skin asunder. It wasn't until Amare gave him that look, that wicked smile, that Dirk looked down to inspect himself. Oh hell. There was going to be a lot of making up for. Dirk looked up and his smile crept across his face like kudzu up a telephone pole. "Oh fuck yeah."


"When you get a lot of fucking free time," he caught the top of his steering wheel and pulled it. The car squealed as it took the corner. The weight of their bodies swayed to the right as his smile kept its edge. He continued, "When you have all this damn free time, it's a lot of time to think."

Not that Dirk hadn't the same sort of free time. Amare always imagined that he was more disciplined than he. If one of them was going to show maturity or caution, it was Dirk. Maybe not so much now that Amare was in his life, but he was universally the only mitigating component in their relationship.


Just before the curve in the road, Dirk had taken the last hit on the cigarette and tossed it out of the window. This left him free and clear to sway right into Amare's side as they took the corner. Amare liked to drive fast and live on the edge. It was exciting and if Dirk were to be honest, exhausting. But Dirk wasn't going to complain. He had a saddle and bridle on a bull.

"Oh yeah? What did you think about?" Dirk was humming, buzzing, slurring his Kentucky accent thick and broad. He often wondered what went on inside of Amare's beautiful mind. This was an opportunity to take a peek inside and he wasn't going to throw that away.


"Everything." A vague word that he punched in the air as if there was something far more precise that he envisioned. His eyes checked the rearview mirror before going back to the road. A push of the gas pedal and a few hard turns landed them uneventfully at his mini-mansion home he owned in Rhy'Din. Once the car was parked he twisted in his seat as if compelled to explain, "There's a party tonight. We need to fuck, shower and hit the road if we wanna make it. I think it's just the sort of thing you'll enjoy."


Everything. It was just the sort of vague response that kept Dirk wondering if Amare's wonderings were a good or a bad thing. Did he intend to never let Dirk out of his sight again? Or had their distance become so that Amare wanted it to be a more permanent thing?

His eyes opened and he looked over at Amare with eyes that were suddenly crystal clear and sharp as razors. "I saw how they were looking at you." His voice was becoming clearer, the accent nearly gone. "But you're mine. They can look but I'll bite their hands off if they try to touch."




Dirk had been born in the hollers of Kentucky, coal mining country. He'd grown up knowing that he was better than average looking, if all of the flirting girls were any indication. His parents had done their best to keep his ego from outgrowing him. It wasn't until he had been discovered by a friend's agent that the ego began to grow as did his bank account.

These days there were two categories of people, in Dirk's book. There were those that were lucky to be with him, and the ones that he counted himself lucky to be with. Amare was in the latter category. Dirk's admiration of Amare knew no bounds. There was nothing that man could do that wouldn't amaze Dirk, no words spoken that weren't soulful and full of a myriad of dimensions.

So when Amare issued that little threat that Dirk better not bore him? Dirk laughed out loud. His first thought was that they'd never bore of each other. But Amare's little ninja had attacked Dirk's brain and it set the wheels turning. "They were looking at me because you were fucking me," he took a hit from the cigarette and blew it out with a sigh.

His knee started to bounce and he glanced from Amare to the hood of the car. Would Amare get bored? Dirk didn't want to do any more time in jail, but he was nervous that if he said no to Amare's whims that he might end up back there. But if he said no, would Amare get bored? He took another hit from the cigarette and blew it back out. This time his hand started to tap the center console in time with his bobbing knee. And if Amare did get bored of him? He gasped softly and looked to Amare with widened eyes.


"Seriously?" Amare shook his head at him and shut his eyes, rolling his head back, "You make a living getting photographed for people to buy shit to look like you, or buy shit to get the attention of someone who looks like you. If that career isn't an ego fuck, I don't know what is."

The small truth about him was that he didn't get bored. Not ever, not really. That wasn't because the world was so fascinating or anything. Amare had a whole fuck ton of problems cycling through his mind. Most of the time he was trying not to think about them. When there was a quiet moment? He was trying to figure if the other party knew all about the nightmares. If they saw it and if seeing it decreased his value, making him more of an object and less of a man.

He never fucking doubted he was important. He doubted whether or not someone saw him as a fleshed out person and not a hyperbole, gateway or promise? The older he got the less he tried to actualize what he wanted.

Eventually, because Dirk's wide eyes burned a hole through the side of his head, he opened his gaze and slid his pupils on over to Dirk. Fuck if he didn't look white as a sheet. It made him smile for no reason in particular before he let his cigarette fall out of the cracked window. He used his free hand to balance his wrist atop the crest of the steering wheel. Dirk worried about being too boring. Amare worried about being too crazy.

"How about we fall asleep together for a goddamn change?" It'd be the first night in weeks... months... that it wasn't alone. He was bluffing that he didn't seem weird about it. He was good at building walls to make it easy.


Did Dirk see the nightmares? He lived them with Amare, in one way or another. They didn't diminish Dirk's feelings, if anything the monsters that tromped through Amare's brain made Dirk live in awe of the man who could maintain a calm facade while battling to the death with his own demons.

When Amare spoke, Dirk breathed out a sigh of relief. "That sounds like the best idea yet," he agreed with a vigorous nod of his head. His body ached and he so badly wanted that alone time with Amare to connect in their distinct and unique way. "Let's go home."


To connect. Over scabs and alcohol, in the dark and silent places. It wasn't all bad. It was the dark and seedy moments that felt the most cinematic and overplayed to him.

Amare liked the cheesy parts. More specifically, he liked it when things were unrealistically happy. In his mind he warped the evening into day and Dirk was wearing a button up with a sweat vest. He probably had on a nice suit. In this little fantasy he thought it better that they weren't smoking so instead they man-handled some cheap lollipops, the sort one got at the Doctor's office. Some oldies' song was playing. What was the song?

They call me the Wanderer, yeah the wanderer,
I roam around around around

Something like that. A song like that playing while they bobbed their heads and sometimes used their lollipops to point out the curious things they passed by along the drive.

It was in those imaginary moments that he felt the most connected with Dirk. Not because they hadn't realized a day in that fashion, but because he saw it and already believed it was real. With three more blinks the bright day returned to a cigarette smoke evening he sucked on between his teeth. He smiled, realizing that they were already halfway through the drive and that his imagination had absorbed all the minute details of getting there.

"Tomorrow we need massages or some shit."

Dirk simply walked to the door and waited for Amare to open it. When Amare bowed, Dirk chuckled and pat him on the head as he passed. "You are such a sweet, sweet man."

Was Amare sweet? Only in the way that it counteracted the bitter acid of his smile. He often thought of kumquats when he thought of Amare. Bitter on the inside, hidden by a candy sweet shell.

"C'mere," he turned and reached for Amare once he was inside of the house. Reversing his momentum, Dirk took one step, two steps to approach Amare and stand nose to nose with him. He gazed into ice blue eyes with no smile, no touching. He inhaled deeply and slowly through his nose. Amare filled him with the faint scent of expensive cologne, sweat, blood and the more earthy tones of cigarette smoke and the wolf hidden within. "Thank you," he said quietly and then turned to walk towards the bedroom.


He didn't do much "helping up" in many cases. Dirk was smart not to expect it or to he hurt when it didn't come. Maybe no one ever helped him up so he was at a loss for just what the hell the problem was. Amare was kumquat sweet. It came, it went. It was a shell and sometimes it wasn't there at all. Dirk knew enough to know that he wrestled with it.

He was reaching back, catching the edge of the door to shut it behind him a his smile said he didn't mind it. Suddenly Dirk was there with the precision of a dancer. It put him on edge, stopping with his weight pouring into the balls of his feet, pushing him up just a bit to move with Dirk in the near-miss touch of their bodies. The air paused with them until Dirk took in a breath of him.

Amare was a goddamn statue. Beautiful as fuck in those little broken ways and not in the way a movie star was. One of his eyebrows hiked upward as he waited, expectant... only to watch Dirk turn and ascend the stairs to his bedroom.

Maybe something like a real smile warmed his mouth as he scaled the steps just after, his hands jumping up to his throat to start undoing the buttons of his shirt. He didn't say 'you're welcome' or anything snarky. He just smiled, watching Dirk, wondering what he would do.


Dirk didn't have to look back to know that he was being followed. Part of their relationship hung on the fact that they both expected the unexpected from each other. He could tell by the way Amare looked at him that curiosity had been piqued. The fact that Dirk failed to assuage with a more physical and demonstrative affection spoke volumes to how much Dirk had learned how to handle Amare.

He climbed the stairs and made the appropriate turn into the correct door. He knew the place, even though he'd been away for so long. Amare didn't change much of anything because there was too much effort in it. So the room was just as he remembered it.

The smell of blood, stale and coppery, was still in the air. How many times had they had a go at each other in this very room? Although the mess was cleaned up, he could remember shards of glass and pottery; torn up walls and bedsheets. When he closed his eyes, he could still see the puddle in the middle of the bed and trail that led to the shower. A faint smile curled his lips just before he collapsed down into the bed, clothes and all.

"Too tired to take my clothes off," he complained.

There were arguments on both ends. Amare hadn't asked sweetly for what he wanted. Either it was werewolf or vampire. He had decided to shed humanity and put Dirk in the corner of that being with him or... somewhere else. Maybe with that crocodile of a vampire, Thalas. He had wanted something less mortal and something more durable than being human.

In retrospect, it might have been one of the smarter things he had ever done. He'd barely survived as a werewolf, let alone as a human.

Dirk dropped into the bed and he smirked, stepping up to it. One of his knees propped itself on the edge of the bed as he pressed his palm to Dirk's lower back, leaning forward so he could speak closer to his ear, "Roll over and I'll take care of you."


Dirk's back popped in protest to the pressure of Amare's palm. It sounded painful and the groan that matched it was just on this side of agonistic. In reality the release of pressure felt beyond good. He stretched and then settled back into place. He didn't care how they got here, the ends justified the means in his eyes.

"Mmmm," he agreed and curled his legs up to his side so he could roll over without knocking Amare for a loop. He then scoot and squirmed until he was straddling Amare's thighs, looking up from the flat of his back. "What a wonderful offer, but I have to wonder just how you're going to take care of me." He laughed quietly but the idea was in his head. Amare could do real damage, not just emotional but physical.


It hadn't changed since the moment they met, the only difference now was that Dirk wasn't doing it for anything but himself. Child. Sire. Fucked up and still somehow strangely beholden to Dirk. People that met him could never seem to grasp that he would have a true and deep affinity for another person. Maybe it was because he couldn't gush or maybe it was because he just didn't get out the words they thought he should. What the fuck was a boyfriend supposed to be? Did he still qualify based on that definition? It was arguable.

Dirk's legs made a play to get a grip on him. He allowed it, smiling shortly before his head bowed to kiss at the part of Dirk's chest he had exposed by undoing his shirt. His fingers were deft at removing clothes. Button by button until there was nothing.

I have to wonder just how you're going to take care of me. The million dollar question. Tonight's answer came in the slip of his hand along the side of Dirk's face. He'd used him up in sharp gasps and thrusts for an audience. Now it was just them. Post prison. Post separation and post exhibition. His hand could be kind, guiding along the side of his face like the caress had always been there.

"What the fuck is there to wonder about?" His hips dropped in to grind purposefully into him before he smirked, looking away as he spoke, "You like it even when I miss the mark."