Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It's late when Nigel slinks into the cathedral, circumventing the DANGER, KEEP OUT sign and the pews and taking the crumbling steps to the upper levels. He throws himself down against the stone lip of the balcony overlooking the nave and lights a cigarette, drawing half of it in a single breath and trying to exhale all the bullshit of the day. Outside the stained glass windows, streetlights cast a million confetti-like fractals of light against the walls like constellations against an inky sky. Darko laughs like a fucking hyena about Nigel coming in here - he’s the only one who’s allowed to know - but fuck him, it’s quiet, and sometimes Nigel needs the peace after rabbling with the pack all day. He's not self-conscious about taking what he needs, never has been, and he's not about to start now.

Some of the things he needs, anyway.

"Fucking bullshit," he mumbles, the words steeped in resentment. He hears a small, startled movement from below and bares his teeth automatically, eyes scanning the tumbled pews.

There's a boy sat on the intricately tiled floor, looking around. When he catches sight of Nigel, his eyes widen, and he starts to scrape together his belongings.

Resisting the urge to simply jump over the balcony, Nigel makes for the stairs instead. By the time he gets there, the stranger is on his feet, papers bundled defensively in one arm, the other hand tucking a tablet away into his bag.

"You know," Nigel drawls, "this is private property."

"Oh yeah-? Are you the owner?"

The boy is American, big eyed and defensive. Nigel can’t tell how old he is - could be anywhere between seventeen and twenty-seven. Certainly not older.

"No, but I've got a hell of a lot more fucking business being here than you, darling."

He bristles, then clearly thinks better of it when he sees how big Nigel is. "I - I’m just drawing it. You know what this place is, don’t you?"

"I know what it is. What are you drawing?"

"A graphic novel." He clutches his sketchbook to his chest. "I’m writing and drawing the whole thing, it’s about the loups-garoux, if you know this place you know the history -"

"I'm fucking here, aren't I?" Nigel snorts. "You fucking kids, you think you hung the moon. Go on, pretty thing. School me some more on my own culture."

The pretty thing’s pretty mouth hangs open. He’s clearly not used to people not being charmed – but then something changes in his expression; a pup forgetting the trick they just learned.

"Why don't you school me on it?" he says, perking up. "I'd love to get a more genuine insight for the material-"

Nigel silences him with a barked laugh; draws on his cigarette, releasing smoke in a plume. "I don’t think so."

“Why not?”

“Because I fucking said so is why not.”

"Oh. I mean- okay." The boy shuffles in his pockets a bit. "Can I give you my card for- for if you change your mind?”

"Darling," Nigel drawls. "I’m not a fucking history teacher."

The boy stalls, then he sighs. "All right, fine. You shouldn't be in here either, y'know."

"Crazy how that works."

"Yeah, crazy," he mutters, skirting past Nigel. As he pushes the door with his hip, a sheaf of his papers flutter out of his arms. "Shit-!"

Nigel catches a few on their way down; watches the kid stumble after the rest. He looks at the drawing in his hand and the name on the bottom of it. Aiden. His parents must have looked long and hard at babynames.com.

"Aiden," he repeats.

The boy looks up, and then straightens with the rest of his drawings, "Yeah. That's me. I’m an illustrator.”

“I can see that.” Nigel rolls his cigarette butt between his teeth, taking stock of the drawing – a study of the windows, a twisting motif of wolves and trees. It’s good.

“I have a card,” the boy – Aiden – pronounces, enthusiasm entirely unwarranted as he hands one over.

“That’s great, darling. Now fuck off.” With a disinterested once over, Nigel hands the drawings back. "Here."

Aiden snatches them back and shoves them unceremoniously back into his folder before he opens the door again, this time without incident. Nigel smirks and watches him go.

"Careful around these parts, comic boy. You never know who’s watching."

With a fearful look back over his shoulder, Aiden pushes out onto the street and vanishes. Nigel looks at his card again. It’s just his name and a cartoon sketch of him, with a phone number and a website. He puts it in his pocket and lights another cigarette, smoking it thoughtfully for a few moments.

He’s not happy about this situation. He doesn't even know how the little shit knows about this place - it's under an unspoken gag order and has been for decades. Someone has been talking. Or the kid’s research skills are much better than expected.

Nigel spends a while longer contemplating the card, then pitches his cigarette butt and heads out into the night. He’ll have to keep a fucking eye on this boy, won’t he?

Pulling his collar up against the drizzle, he starts down the familiar route to one of his usual haunts, nodding to the bouncers on the door as he ducks under the rope and inside. The crowd inside is either drugged or euphoric - or both - and either way, pays him no attention. He slips amongst the bodies until he finds Darko, at their usual booth in the corner. He stands when he spots Nigel.

Nigel raises a brow. "What're you fucking looking at?"

"Not sure, but it’s looking back."

Nigel rolls his eyes. "Jealousy is unbecoming, Darko."

Darko flips him off and lets him slide into the booth. "How did the deal go yesterday?" he asks Nigel quietly.

"I talked them around to our terms. Could’ve used you there."

"You called me a cocknose and told me to eat your mother's ass earlier," Darko points out, though as usual his eyebrows inject more expression into his words than his tone, "I didn't think you were feeling like company."

"You kept asking me questions," Nigel grunts.

"I'll stick to going into deals blind next time, shall I?"

"You’re not fucking blind if you have me."

Darko bares his incisors in frustration. Nigel bares his back to see him duck his head.

"Have you picked anyone for the hunt yet?" Darko asks, wise enough to change the subject, but apparently not wise enough to pick something safe.

Nigel curls his lip. "No."

"Don't you think you should?"

"I think - and you fucking know I think - that it is a fucking stupid tradition. Is what I think."

Darko sighs, "It's either that or a free-for-all. And you think that's a stupider idea than the tradition, right?"

It is so fucking tempting to say no. Unfortunately, even Nigel isn't that much of a cunt. "Round up someone who’s behind on their payments then," he grunts.

Darko nods. "Okay."

Nigel signals over to the bar for a drink. It's brought over straight away, a bottle and two glasses. Darko eyes him warily before pouring for them both.

Nigel sips; lights up. He thinks of the hunt, and unbidden, the boy in the church. His curls would bounce while he ran. And he’s a stranger, just passing through. It’s the smart call; anyone would agree.

"There might be someone else," he mutters.

"Who’s that, then?"

"Tourist. He broke into the church." Nigel produces the card, almost reluctantly. "He talked about us."

Darko takes the card. "A comic book writer?"

Nigel shrugs, "Poking around is never good."

Darko scoffs. "People do the research sometimes."

Nigel sighs, "But he was in our space."

"I’m not saying no, I’m saying - at least challenge the pack?"

"He might be surprising." He’s not sure what makes him think that – maybe just the way the kid hadn’t backed off, he’d stood there, and smiled like an idiot when he thought he could talk to Nigel. It’s a niggling, squirming sort of guilt he feels, but he forces it down with more drink. “I want you to put a tail on him – that kid who’s always hanging around, asking to prove himself. Give it to him.”

“Rafe? He annoys the shit out of you.”

This is true. Rafe is his nephew by marriage - ex marriage as it is now – and though the clans still keep a tentative and viciously reinforced peace, Rafe is always sniffing around for opportunities. He’s wiry and small, just ratty enough to make Nigel doubt he has any wolf in him at all, but he’s cunning too, watching Nigel often at the club, sycophantically fawning one moment and conniving the next.

Nigel has ways of dealing with little throat-slitters like Rafe.

“So you’ll understand my desire to keep him fucking occupied, yes?” He answers finally, patience leaving him with a hiss rather than a snap.

As if he can smell it on him, Darko watches him for a moment before he shrugs. "Okay. Your call."

"It is, isn't it," Nigel grumbles. He pours another measure after downing the first. He can feel it as Darko eyes him thoughtfully. "Spit it out.”

"You're off your game, boss."

"Fuck yourself." He lets his eyes flash for a moment.

"Charming motherfucker, aren't you?" Darko mutters.

Nigel scowls. He can be. When you've known someone since you were pups, it doesn't feel really fucking necessary.

“Can I just have a fucking drink without you climbing up my fucking arse?” he snaps. The only answer he gets is a cold once over before Darko pushes off his stool and leaves him.

He drinks the rest of his fill in surly quiet, snapping at his pack mates when they try to socialize beyond pleasantries. They soon get the message, and he trips home alone, falling into bed and staring at the ceiling for a long time, seeing the refracted snowflakes of light from the church in the milling dark; the boy’s white incisors when he’d smiled.

*

He wakes late and lounges in bed with his cigarettes for a long time. His head is pounding, and the sun is already high, the sounds of the city bursting through his open windows, bringing the smell of car exhaust and hot tarmac. Nigel scents it lazily; rolls away from the light and dozes on and off. He might have things to do today but he doesn't care, procrastinating at length before he finally heads out. By then he's feeling irritable, stomach panging with hunger. He heads to his favorite café down the street from his building.

He's immediately served a double espresso and a menu. He ignores the waitress and lights a cigarette, stretching out at the table under the awning and watching the traffic roll by. The city passes without pause, and he orders breakfast and smokes, reading a paper left behind by a neighbor. A familiar scent hits him in the face with a passing breeze, and he lowers the paper slowly.

Brown curls, creamy skin. Aiden the artist is crossing the street, a messenger bag slung over one angular shoulder, his eyes squinted against the sun. Nigel takes in the lean cut of his body and tries not to think the of word "succulent". Looks like he won’t need that watch anyway – not that Rafe will have crawled out of his den yet.

He sees Nigel at exactly the same moment that Nigel resolves to look away. His expression brightens inexplicably and, to Nigel’s bemusement, he comes over.

"The security guard," he greets, grin revealing neat white teeth.

"The trespasser."

"Is this cafe yours too?" Aiden cheeks. "Anywhere else around here you're allowed but I'm not?"

"Shall I make you a list, darling?"

Aiden grins at him again, apparently unfazed. "Can I sit?"

Nigel sighs. "Knock yourself out."

"What, really? Thank you!" He's effusive as he sits down, hair tumbling in the breeze. The waitress hovers, and Nigel nods at her to bring more coffee.

"I've been doing more research," Aiden continues cheerfully. "Not even on private property, today."

"Tell me about it," Nigel indulges. For further incrimination, he posits to himself.

"Really?”

"Yes, be quick," Nigel tells him seriously. Aiden grins even more when the coffee arrives

"The founding family of the city had the wolf as their heraldic animal," he starts, and goes on to elaborate on several things he's clearly only uncovered by spending time in the city archives. Nigel nods along, semi-polite. He wonders if Aiden broke in there too.

"Sounds like a lot of work for a cartoon," he says, stretching his arms lazily above his head.

"It's not a cartoon," Aiden mutters.

"So very sorry," Nigel drawls. "Educate me?"

"It's a graphic novel. I draw them all, they take months." He bends to rummage in his bag. "Here, you can look at this... keep it... whatever you like."

Nigel wants to curl his lip, but he takes the book Aiden hands over, studying the cover. He doesn't want to be impressed. He is before he even cracks the pages.

For his part, Aiden dedicates himself to his coffee and doesn't interrupt Nigel while he reads. There's a few minutes of peace, and then Nigel can practically feel Aiden's gaze burning holes through the book. He peeks over the top and raises a brow.

"Yes, trespasser?"

“It’s Aiden.”

“I remember.”

“Return the favor?”

“It’s Nigel,” he says, after a moment of hesitation. He’s not quite ready for the way Aiden beams at hearing it.

“Nice to meet you, Nigel.”

“Nice to meet you too, kid.”

Aiden turns pink, diverting his attention to his cup. Nigel closes the book and takes a sip of his espresso, studying him.

"What brings you to Bucharest, Aiden?"

"I told you, the legends of the loups-garoux."

Nigel shakes his head. "Did you write this one in England?"

"I try to visit all my books' locations."

"And where do you live?"

"Uh- currently, nowhere. You live here though, right?"

"All my life," Nigel says lazily.

Aiden smiles and looks around. "I like it here. It's so wild."

"You think so?"

Aiden nods, tucking his mouth against his hand and looking away again.

Nigel watches him. He closes the book and tucks it down the side of his chair so Aiden can see he intends to keep it. "Will your visit be a long one?"

"Just a couple more weeks."

"Any other... research targets?"

Aiden glances up, and their eyes catch. The crooked little smile he gives stokes a flicker of amusement in Nigel. Little shit.

"Still waiting to hear if I might get a native tour guide."

Nigel scoffs. "Was 'fuck off' too polite, darling?"

"I feel like you'd say that to your own grandmother, darling," Aiden mimics.

"She'd say it first."

"Can I meet her then?"

Nigel tuts at him. "Is this how you get what you want? Keep ferreting away at the edges until you find a way in?"

"Yes?" Aiden grins.

"It's very fucking effective."

The grin gets wider. "Is it? So where are we going first?"

Nigel sighs. "First, we're having breakfast."

Aiden looks down at the coffee like he's foggy on the concept. When the waitress comes with Nigel's order, he takes a piece of toast and pushes the rest to Aiden.

"There. You look like art doesn't pay a lot."

Aiden bites his lip like he wants to argue.

"Just eat." Nigel holds a hand up and asks the waitress again for another order. Mollified, Aiden picks up his fork and starts to eat.

Nigel watches him closely. He does look hungry; trying to hide it. Nigel grunts and drinks his coffee. He shouldn't coddle the pup.

His plate comes a little faster than the first, and he approaches it with a little less enthusiasm than Aiden: his hangover hasn't quite encouraged hunger yet, this is preemptive. What in the fuck is he going to do with this boy? He asks himself the same thing over and over while they eat, largely in silence. Nigel throws down money and stands when his plate is more or less empty, Aidan's long since cleared.

"Come on."

Aiden springs to his feet, apparently endless energy. Nigel represses a smile and points him across the street.

"We're going this way." If the kid wants a tour, he’ll give him one. He tucks Aiden’s book under his arm and starts down the street. He feels Aiden fall into step with him easily.

"Where are we going?"

"Old Bucharest… what's left of it."

Aiden beams wide. "Wow- okay. Thank you so much! Why the change of heart?"

"I hate to think of the fucking chaos you'd unleash on the city without me."

That makes him laugh, annoyingly charming. His curls glint in the sun, almost as much as his blue eyes.

Oh, Nigel thinks, fuck. Fuck him and his unreasonable fucking feelings.

Aiden talks animatedly about everything and nothing. Nigel mostly just lets him. It only irritates him a tiny bit. He's witty, and entirely winsome with it. Nigel steers him through the old town, pointing out the landmarks, giving the hammy tourist version he gave Gabi when they first met - though he isn't sure why, except that Aiden seems to appreciate the effort - and Nigel's humor.

"You - have you always spoken English? Everyone seems to," he asks eventually, somewhat shyly.

"Oh, we all picked it up either for business or just... here and there."

"I speak French," Aiden says aimlessly, "not that it helps me much outside of France. Always feel a little guilty."

"Why is that?" Nigel murmurs in French.

Aiden grins immediately, cheeks turning pink. "I just feel like everyone else is always learning English to accommodate us." He answers in kind, with a very Gallic shrug.

"Spending time in a country helps."

Aiden nods, then sighs. "Pity I won't have more time," he says in English. Then, he adds hopefully, "Will you teach me a bit of Romanian?"

Nigel looks at him in surprise, then nods. "Of course. You'll be able to order beer and lap dances by the time you leave, on my honor."

Aiden blushes. "I was thinking something a little less pedestrian."

"What red-blooded American thinks lap dances are pedestrian?"

Aiden laughs. "I guess this kind."

"You are some kind, all right."

"Oh, what kind do you think?"

My kind. Nigel licks his lips; the familiar terrain of his sharp teeth, but he only answers with a smile.

Aiden glances at him out of the corner of his eye. "What do you do, Nigel?"

He hasn’t used his name since Nigel told it him, and that brings with it the pleasant reminiscence of that moment. The way Aiden had smiled like the sun and repeated his name softly. Nigel can't forget the sight.

"Oh, this and that. Deliveries, that sort of thing."

"You're clearly desperately busy," Aiden drawls.

"What, I didn't mention I was charging you for this tour?"

"I said I'd pay," Aiden replies softly.

"I'm not interested in your money, cherub."

Aiden shoots him another glance. "What are you interested in?"

"More of your stories. We'll trade."

"I... have stories." He sounds nearly disappointed.

Nigel catches his eye and grins. "That's very fucking fortunate, because I do so hate to be bored."

Aiden snorts. "No pressure."

"No worries, darling, believe me."

Peeking at him from under the fall of his curls, Aiden bites his lip. The sun makes him gold again. Nigel feels an incipient emotion that he recognizes all too well.

"Come on," he mutters, "I want to show you the church down here."

They walk a while longer, until the monastery comes into view, pillars and arabesque arches glowing white in the midday sun. Aiden stops short, hand fumbling for his phone to take pictures.

When he’s had a couple of minutes, Nigel chuckles. "Want to go inside?"

"Uh, yes." Aiden shoves his phone back in his pocket and tugs Nigel down the street by the arm.

"Do they not have churches in America?" he asks, amused by his enthusiasm.

"Of course," Aiden mutters, pinking. "This is just perfect for my artwork, I can tell."

Inside, he quiets, gazing up at the mosaic ceilings with wide eyes.

"An earthquake collapsed the dome some years back. It was recently restored," Nigel explains. When Aiden just stares, Nigel touches his elbow. "Come see the chapel."

He follows obediently. Showing him the chapel is probably a bad idea, but Nigel has always liked it.

Inside, Aiden's eyes threaten to leave his skull altogether. He doesn't raise his camera though, just looks. The chapel is dedicated to St. Andrew, and the types of animals depicted in the carvings are few. It's one of the few sacred places Nigel has. He breathes in the atmosphere and feels himself calm.

"You come here a lot?" Aiden asks.

"When I need to," Nigel murmurs. He sighs. "Got married here."

Aiden looks at his ring finger, conspicuously bare.

"Didn't take," Nigel adds. "Not the fault of this place."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Aiden sighs.

Nigel shrugs and walks away to study a carving. He feels Aiden's attention shift off him and finds himself relieved. He goes to the corner to light a candle for his parents. He sighs over it for a moment, then turns back to Aiden, pausing when he sees him sat down on the floor with his sketchbook in his lap, scribbling away.

Nigel sits down to watch. It's strangely therapeutic. Aiden seems to be lost in the action.

When Nigel gets bored of waiting, he seems to sense it, glancing up at him. "Sorry," he murmurs. "Thanks for waiting."

"It's okay."

"What now?" Aiden packs up and bounces to his feet.

"You're ready to go?" Nigel laughs. Figures. "Okay. Do you like books?"

"Um. Yes?"

"There's a famous bookstore not far from here. Have you been?"

He laughs up at Nigel. "Nearly first thing, but I'll go again."

"No, don't be fucking boring. Come on."

They take another quick route through Stravropoleos before heading back out onto the street. Aiden cranes back to look at the saints adorning the outside of the monastery as they walk, almost wandering into several things until Nigel grabs his elbow and leads him through the bright, busy streets of little Bucharest. Aiden is talking about books, and Nigel allows him to prattle on uninterrupted. It's actually quite sweet, the way he seems boundlessly fascinated by the city- Nigel's city. He stops when Nigel leads him past the bank and out onto a boulevard before the highway, industrial in the day with unlit neon and posters.

"This is - uh."

"Picturesque, no?" Nigel snickers. He points to the statue to their right. "Thought you'd like to see her, if you haven't already."

He watches Aiden's face change. "Just pictures," he murmurs.

Nigel is about to tell him the history, but Aiden is way ahead of him.

"It tells the story of the birth of Rome!" He tells Nigel excitedly, getting out his phone again. "The twins, Romulus and Remus, were cast into the Tiber river when their grandfather was overthrown. A she-wolf rescued them and nursed them back to health. The original is still in Rome today."

Nigel laughs. "You got it, kid."

Aiden beams at him. "It's so beautiful."

"It is. Trash and neon and all."

"I like it, it's such a striking image- modernity and ancient history coming together. The architecture is incredible."

Aiden seems so fond of the city. It makes Nigel want to preen.

Suddenly Aiden lights up. "Will you come to the museum with me?"

Nigel pauses, struck by how long they've already been at this.

"Oh," Aiden pinks again at his hesitance, "I'm sorry, I've already taken up a lot of your time."

"No; I... let's just go get some dinner instead?"

Aiden studies him for a minute, and then he nods. "Tiring you out?" he teases.

Nigel scoffs. "Yeah, that's it."

Aiden bites his lip and takes Nigel's arm again. "Dinner sounds great."

They walk for a while, and then Aiden looks at him again, and Nigel catches his eye. Aiden's are so, so blue, achingly bright like the summer sky. And they are knowing.

"What are you doing, hanging around with me?" he asks, laughter on the edge of it.

"I have no fucking clue," Nigel laughs back.

Aiden bites his lip against another big grin, confidence buoyed. "Must see something you like."

Nigel sees a fucking snack, is what he sees. Or that’s what he should see. "Sounds like someone is fucking projecting."

Aiden pauses. "Yeah," he says, not quite mean enough, "I'm really into older guys who look like they could snap me in half." It doesn't sound at all like a lie. "And who look at me like I give them a headache," Aiden adds with a chuckle. He looks away.

"You know many guys like that?"

"Most of them. Women too," Aiden laughs.

Nigel lights a cigarette while they walk, mostly to have something else to concentrate on. "The Aiden Effect," he muses.

"Makes me sound meteorological."

"A cosmic phenomenon?" Nigel grins.

"Well, I hate to brag."

"Mm, I can tell."

Aiden laughs and steals the cigarette out of his mouth. It's a move that would get anyone else a snarl. Nigel watches him draw the smoke and tilt his head back, blowing rings into the reddening sky as they walk. It looks good on him.

"Fucking cowboy," he says, when Aiden passes the butt back.

Aiden laughs. "That's a first."

"What's the usual nickname?"

"I've heard everything from nerd to twink," Aiden eyes him.

Nigel chuckles at him. "Point them out to me, I'll have them crying."

"Sweet of you."

"Don't sound so surprised, kid."

Aiden huffs a laugh. "Sorry."

They stop at a restaurant that Nigel knows- it's not too close to home though. He ushers Aiden inside and immediately orders a bottle of vodka for the table. Aiden seems content with that, so Nigel goes ahead and orders for them both.

"Do you always do that?" Aiden asks, raising an eyebrow.

"No?" Nigel isn't sure what answer Aiden wants.

He pours them both a drink. Aiden accepts his with a murmur of thanks. He has good manners, this boy. Nigel watches him take a drink and pull a little face, and he laughs.

"You need to learn good vodka, American boy."

"I'll take a lesson."

"Oh, will you?"

Aiden smiles again. "You're not a fucking history teacher though, right?"

"Not precisely."

"What are you, precisely?"

There's the question. "Nothing special, darling."

Aiden snorts. "Sure."

Their food arrives. Nigel watches Aiden again while he eats, thoughtful. He's definitely working on a starvation budget. "So you're travelling alone?" he asks, mildly.

Aiden nods. "Yeah, sometimes I run into people I know and we hang out, but."

Nigel nods. "And your parents? Do you send them postcards?"

He sees the veil drop over Aiden's face. He downs the rest of his drink and Nigel pours him another, curious.

"Tell me," Nigel murmurs.

"Mom died," Aiden shrugs, "me and my dad don't, uh. See eye to eye."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Don't be, works for me. What about you, any tragic backstories?"

Nigel shrugs. "No more than most."

Aiden raises his eyebrows. "Going to tell me?"

"Other way round for me. Da died, Mum needed me to step up and be the head of the family." He lights a new cigarette. "There's a lot of us, and we've a very specific legacy. Lots to safeguard."

Aiden raises a brow. "So you're in the mob."

"Not... exactly."

"Not exactly?"

"No."

Aiden laughs. "Cryptic."

"You'll have to be satisfied."

"You obviously don't know me very well."

"Are you saying that's not likely?"

"I certainly am." They smirk at one another, entirely at an impasse but cheerful about it.

Their food comes, and Aiden eats and talks Nigel's ear off about his newest comic and how Bucharest plays its part. He brings up wolves over and over. Nigel tries not to twitch. Especially not when he reaches for the salt and Aiden spies the snaking line of ink peeking from under his sleeve; a clawed paw.

"Hey," he protests.

Nigel freezes, following his gaze. "What-?"

"You have cool ink, why are you hiding it?"

"I can't walk around with my shirt off all the time."

Aiden sneaks a glance at him. "You sure?"

That startles a chuckle out of him. "Is vodka making you brave, kid?"

"Who says it takes vodka?"

Nigel meets his gaze, catching the pink flick of his tongue. He's getting the whiff of a bad idea. "Oh, I believe you."

He knocks back his own drink and watches Aiden copy him. He manages not to cough this time. Nigel grins at him knowingly.

"You're a fucking natural, cowboy."

"At lots of things."

Nigel almost misses his mouth on his next sip. "Is that so? What kinds of things are we talking about?"

"What do you want to talk about?"

"I think that's up to you in this case."

"Oh, I am very open," Aiden laughs. "Can't you tell?"

Nigel shakes his head, more amused than anything. This kid is something.

"Have another drink, Nigel," Aiden grins.

Nigel does. Aiden matches it again. It turns into a bit of a competition. Nigel slows them when he notices the boy weaving a bit: he'd prefer not to hold his hair back all night. By then, Aiden is pink-cheeked and teasing freely.

"You scared the shit out of me in that church - you seemed so mad at me."

"I was. Maybe I shouldn't come on so strong."

"No it's- it's okay. It's a beautiful place. You seemed protective of it. I get it."

"Do you?"

Aiden bites his lip, mouth still curled. "I think so." He reaches forward and links his fingers around the wrist of Nigel's tattooed arm.

Nigel watches him, intrigued, surprised, certainly beguiled.

"You sure you don't have anywhere else to show me?" Aiden murmurs.

Jesus Christ. Nigel's stomach fills with fire at the pitch of his voice. "Maybe one more spot."

"I do appreciate thoroughness," Aiden drawls. "And your time. You really made up for the rude welcome."

"Mm. Let me continue."

Aiden grins wider, breaking out of sultry and back into sweet. It's somehow even more tempting. "Go on then."

Nigel signals for the check. Fuck it. He can play with his food. Aiden looks more than willing. "Come on, gorgeous."

Aiden takes his hand this time and allows himself to be pulled out onto the street and into a cab. He keeps himself just about contained, though Nigel assumes it's because he doesn't fancy his chances publicly necking with a dude in a foreign country rather than having anything resembling impulse control. Nigel feels his pain, really he does.

He drums his fingers on his knee until they arrive at his apartment. As soon as they clear the door, though, he pounces. Aiden isn't much shorter than him, but he's skinny, and he hits the wall behind the door with a little peal of laughter.

His hands go straight to Nigel's hair, and Nigel's go to his ass, hauling them flush as he inhales the scent of him. God, he smells good. He's still stuttering on his laughter, letting his weight hang on his arms around Nigel’s neck. Nigel holds on, unable to hold back his own snigger.

"Shut up and let me kiss you,” he grumbles.

Aiden tips his head back, humming when Nigel bends to fit their mouths together, a harsh, hot press. It's good enough to draw a groan from deep in his chest. Aiden feels hot and lithe in his arms, bracketing into his touch, a receptor for all his strange, twisted up attraction. More willing than expected, and exactly as aggressive.

He groans into Nigel's mouth when he nips at his lip. His hands tug and he pushes into it.

"Oh god," Aiden says shakily. It's endearing how dazed he sounds.

"No gods here," Nigel murmurs. "Only me."

"Good enough. Show me your room."

Nigel steers him down a short hall and through a door. "Bedroom, bed, get on it," he growls.

Aiden laughs, pulling his t-shirt off over his head, blushing. "Yes sir."

Nigel looks covetously at how far the blush spreads. "The prettiest fucking thing I've ever seen," he mutters, divesting himself of his shirt and then, with considerably more care, Aiden's jeans.

Aiden grins, still blushing. "I bet you say that to everyone who ends up here."

"Oh no, that is the entire fucking truth."

"Prove it," Aiden challenges, with another coy grin.

Nigel leans back in to mouth along his neck. He's rewarded with a stuttered little sound, soft and breathy.

"You are inappropriately good at that," Aiden complains.

"I can't think of a more appropriate place to be good at it."

"True." Aiden makes a grab for his belt. He unbuckles it with a satisfying click; draws it out and throws it off the bed. He and Nigel fight to get his zipper undone between them. Nigel unapologetically bares his teeth.

Normally, Nigel brings women home, and it's a quicker process- he doesn't even need to take his jeans off sometimes. This is a little different, not entirely unfamiliar but novel enough that he lets Aiden ease him out of them with only a couple of sighs of impatience. Aiden seems to know what he's about, and it's interesting to let him go.

He slinks from beneath him and into Nigel’s lap when they're both down to their shorts, kissing him filthy breathless again. "Tell me what you're into, Nigel."

"I'm a fan of 'show, don't tell'."

"I can do that." His hands go to Nigel's shorts, pushing them down as he moves back. Nigel smiles at the sight of his curls bouncing as he goes down to kiss his chest. His kisses are slow but his target unmistakable.

Nigel has no complaints. He keeps his breathing steady, touching Aiden's curls. He's always preferred giving head to receiving it, but the thought of seeing Aiden’s pretty mouth wrapped around him is enough to entice. Aiden, for his part, is more than eager. Nigel can smell it on him.

“Do we need a rubber?” he asks softly.

It surprises Nigel for a moment – he rarely thinks of human diseases – but he manages to shake his head.

“Not for me, I’m clean. Unless it’d make you feel better.”

“No,” Aiden shakes his head. “I want to taste you.” He curls his hands around Nigel's cock, enveloping him in the heat of his hands, squeeze-stroking gently before he tongues the head into his mouth. They both make their own satisfied noises. Nigel can't help but think wryly that this isn't how he thought his day would pan out.

Aiden seems delighted by the same notion. He's sucking experimentally, hands still tight and tongue twisting around him. Nigel gives him a soft noise of encouragement and strokes his hair. The experimentation is the most delicious tease, long slick swipes of his mouth followed by the languid motions of his tongue. It’s hypnotic, and Nigel has to watch him a moment longer before he touches at his chin, shivery with arousal. "Hey, gorgeous. Come up here."

Aiden makes a noise of complaint that transforms into a soft groan when Nigel draws him into a kiss and grips at his thighs and ass so their bodies slot together. They fit perfectly. Aiden squirms against him, gasping when Nigel steers his hips into gentle rocks, his cock smudging wet against the seat of Aiden’s shorts.

"Feels good, doesn't it?"

"Yeah," Aiden nods fast.

"If I return the favor?"

"Anything you want."

Nigel wants to bite him again. So he does, teeth tugging at his lower lip. It's worth it for the noise he makes, so he does it again. Aiden groans and grabs at his hair gently. Nigel just tastes him; the corner of his mouth, beneath his ear. With Aiden rocking against him, it's enough just to absorb him for a moment. To scent him, breathe him into his lungs. The friction of his cock riding the dip of his ass is maddening, delicious with it. It's the right amount of torture.

He grips his hips and arches up as he bites at his shoulder. Aiden gasps and shivers. "S'good," he breathes.

Nigel licks over quivering skin. Wrapping an arm around Aiden securely, he flips them over. Aiden looks like an angel against Nigel's mound of pillows.

He scents deeply at his throat again while he works his shorts down, savoring the undercurrents of nerves and arousal. It only stokes his own.

Stretched out, Aiden shivers under the glide of Nigel’s hands, and he looks so good that Nigel lets himself look for a long few seconds before he focuses on the needy squirm of Aiden’s hips. He bends smoothly to take Aiden's cock in his mouth. Once again, the divinity of taste pales in comparison to the noise Aiden makes, thighs spreading and his fingers spearing into Nigel's hair. Nigel sucks gently and lets himself find a rhythm.

"Oh god," Aiden gasps, "do you do this a lot-?"

Nigel shoots him a look up from under his brows.

It makes Aiden laugh breathlessly. "Just didn't think you'd be so - I don't know, god, fuck."

Nigel laughs. He can guess exactly what Aiden didn't think he'd be. Nigel enjoys being a surprise. He enjoys this, too, the soft, smooth heat of Aiden in his mouth, the bowing line of his pale thighs. At his mercy and delighted to be there. Nigel is delighted too: the noises he's drawing out are gorgeous. Nigel sucks deeper and strokes up Aiden’s thighs until he feels Aiden’s shivers and a tug at his hair.

"Nigel-"

Nigel grumbles to have to pull off.

"S-sorry," Aiden blushes, breathing hard.

"Too close?" Nigel hums.

Aiden huffs a bit, embarrassed. "I'm just - I'd like more."

"I have more."

"Come on then." Aiden grins.

Nigel pushes himself back up, nipping at his shoulders. "How much more did you have in mind?" He strokes his fingers over Aiden's pink cheeks.

"Oh - as much as I can have."

"Do you want my cock, darling?"

Aiden's face turns crimson. He nods unsteadily. Nigel grins against his shoulder. Aiden nips his ear and arches up. "Go on," he mumbles.

Nigel leans for his bedside with a sigh. "Stay right there."

"All right." He's all pale skin and sprawled limbs. He leans up to study Nigel's tattoos. His hands are soft, brushing their edges. "I didn't think you'd have so many."

"Why ever not?"

"I don't know." He looks up at Nigel, eyes soft. "It's nice to be surprised, is all."

Nigel has to put down the lube he's holding to properly kiss him. "I promise, gorgeous, whatever the fuck feelings I inspire in you, surprise will always be amongst them."

"I hope so."

Nigel grins. "I know so." He nips one more time and pulls back to slick his hand.

Aiden shifts into position, tucking his knees back against his chest and Nigel nearly growls with appreciation. He has to dip his head down to lick the flush skin between his thighs; he can't not.

Aiden keens as he mouths at his sack and then lower. "Nigel- fuck-"

Breathing hard, he alternates swipes of his tongue with circles of his fingertips around Aiden's hole. All that soft pale skin, all his. When he presses gently in with his finger, Aiden's breath hitches sweetly, the muscles gently clenching against the sensation.

“Please -”

"Oh, you lovely darling."

Aiden covers his face with his hands, laughing weakly. "You mean it."

"Of course." He crooks his finger gently.

Aiden shivers and jolts a little. "More--"

Nigel shushes him softly. "Yes, more."

"Fuck," Aiden whines when he starts to stroke inside him faster, going all but liquid at another finger; a few slick and twisting presses. He’s clutching and whimpering, so Nigel kisses him again and gives him more, mutual impatience urging them on. Between Aiden's pleas for more and Nigel's desire, they go faster than they should, and when Aiden insists he’s ready, Nigel rolls on a rubber and kisses him hard as he presses into him in one hot, slow slide.

Aiden makes a ragged noise. The way he sets his heels against the small of Nigel's back and drags him in, all in one smooth roll, knocks the breath out of them both. Nigel just swears softly and braces his hands.

"Seems I'm not the only one full of fucking surprises."

Seemingly struggling to speak, Aiden tugs at him and Nigel obligingly snaps his hips forward. He makes him go wordless and trembly with the next few thrusts, jaw slack and a blush touching his nose and cheeks. Nigel can't look away. His entire body comes alive.

"Is that what you fucking needed, gorgeous?" Nigel purrs. "That what you've been looking for?"

Aiden clutches him and nods. "Harder," he gasps, lifting his chin to kiss him again.

"Yes, darling." Nigel nips at his lip. He doesn't let himself be gentle with him. He can't quite be as rough as he wants. Not with a human. But it's enough.

Aiden's voice goes rough and urgent with every stroke of their hips, nails digging into Nigel's shoulders. Nigel makes noises low in his throat, finding his mouth over and over. It's been a while since he did this - since he let himself - and the novelty is more alluring than he would have thought.

Glowing with exertion, Aiden strokes through his hair again, rough and needy.

"Nigel," he says, soft and breathless, "you feel so good."

"So do you." He noses in under his ear.

Aiden braces his hands against the headboard with a sigh, knees nudging against Nigel's flanks. Nigel tastes his sweat, hips snapping. He's just drunk enough that all he knows is that he needs more.

Tongue gives way to teeth, torturously gentle. Aiden bears up for his cock with a little groan, moving fluid and enticing.

"More - Nigel please -"

"I'm fucking trying." He laughs.

Aiden just tightens his arms around his neck and urges him again, letting him fuck him harder with a cry of approval. Nigel drops his head and goes punishingly fast, lips curled back in a hidden snarl. Feeling Aiden all poised and arching, hearing his aching cries - purely for Nigel, for how he makes him feel - is almost too much. He reaches between them and grasps his cock.

"Oh fuck- yes-" Aiden clenches tight at the touch, shivering.

The feel of him squeezing Nigel inside is amazing, and he groans into his skin, slowing against the resistance, savoring it. He keeps his hand and his hips moving, feeling it as Aiden draws tighter still, voice going choked and high against Nigel's chest. Nigel feels him shaking, his cheeks darkly flushed when he looks down.

"Nigel- I'm-"

"Let go, darling." He keeps jagging his hips in smooth, sharp motions as Aiden comes with a moan over Nigel's hand and his own stomach. The sensation of it has Nigel tucking his face and driving into him. He'd be amused at how fast Aiden had come if he didn't find it entirely gorgeous. It gives him time to indulge himself.

He pulls back, waiting for Aiden's nod before he guides him onto his stomach and pushes back into the slick heat of him, hands pinning him to the mattress by his shoulders, a touch too rough. Aiden moans and pushes up into it. Gripping his hips gently, Nigel sets his teeth against the bridge of his shoulder as he picks his pace up again.

This feels good - it feels right. Aiden scrabbles a hand into his hair over his shoulder and sighs, and Nigel thinks he feels the same.

Nigel drives on until his own body is wound tight. His teeth sink in as he comes in long, hard waves, and Aiden gasps. Slowly, they both unclench. Aiden’s hips slide down against the mattress, sighing at Nigel's weight against his back. Nigel lets himself press down too, licking gently at the bite mark.

It triggers a little giggle from Aiden, hand gentling on Nigel's shoulder. Slowly, he unfurls from beneath him and sits up unsteadily.

"Bathroom?"

"Right through there," Nigel points.

He watches Aiden go, somewhat gingerly, before he wipes himself down a bit and rummages in his pants for his smokes. He's reluctant to move any farther. Luckily, Aiden doesn't seem concerned with anything more taxing than slumping naked back into bed, a few licks of his hair damp from where he's washed up.

He curls up next to Nigel, apparently unsure about how close to get until Nigel reaches out and pulls him against his chest. Then he settles quickly.

"All right?" Nigel says, briefly concerned by his uncharacteristic quiet.

"Just thinking."

"What about, gorgeous?"

"How long it's been since I've been that satisfied." It's not said in a flattering way, just matter-of-factly.

Nigel chuckles. "I try."

"I just bet you do." He arranges himself more comfortably and noses under his jaw, sighing. "Do you want me to go?"

"Not if you don't want to."

"What do you want me to do?"

Nigel snorts. "Didn't I just answer that?" He watches Aiden bite his lip and sighs. "Stay, kid."

Aiden grins immediately. It's indecently pretty. Nigel sighs, resigned to the fact that tomorrow he'll disappoint him. He strokes his cheek.

"Go to sleep, gorgeous."

"You too."

"Right behind you." Literally. He curls around Aiden securely. He fits easily against his chest, slight and pale and so trusting, asleep in seconds. Nigel is still licking the taste of him from his teeth. He sighs and snuffles at his nape, finishing his smoke before he goes off himself.

He hasn't felt so good in a long time.

Chapter Text

Aiden wakes up with hot arms around his middle and his cheek smushed into the pillows. He wriggles automatically, but only into the embrace. Nigel barely shifts but to tuck his face into Aiden's neck. Normally Aiden doesn't stick around other people's apartments the morning after, but he doesn't have much choice at the moment. Besides, he's intrigued by Nigel. Aloof, enigmatic, changeable. Rough. He smiles at the thought and puts his hand over Nigel's where it's spread against his belly almost possessively. He might like that most of all. He soaks up the warmth until Nigel stirs, nosing into Aiden's hair and inhaling deeply as he wakes up.

"That was a little weird," Aiden says sleepily.

Nigel laughs. "What was?"

"Sniffing thing."

"You smell good. Sorry." He doesn't sound sorry.

"Not the first time you've done it."

Nigel makes an amused noise. "You smell... really good? Come on, kid, give me a break."

"If you insist." Aiden arches into the warm press of his body, decidedly ready to talk about something else. "Happy to see me?" He snickers.

"Seems that way."

Aiden stretches out and twists over to kiss him. "I like it."

"It's a fucking good job, gorgeous." His mouth is hot as a brand. He trails his lips down Aiden's throat slowly. "I think I have another round in me this morning, do you?"

"I could probably stick around for that, yeah."

Nigel sucks gently at his Adam's apple and Aiden strokes through his hair. It's all too easy to let Nigel lay him out on the sheets again, mouth covering ticklish spots, stubble bristling. It's just as good as he remembers from last night. Better without the haze of vodka.

"I could go for a shower," he says absently.

"Mm. Feel free."

"Come with me."

Nigel stretches. "All right. But only so I can get a look at that fantastic fucking ass of yours."

Aiden bites his lip. "You really have a way with words, Nigel."

"I'm just honest."

Nigel goes for a smoke while Aiden sorts himself out and gets the shower running. When he joins Aiden his eyes are lazy but hot. His hands drift over Aiden's skin warmly as he bends to nose at the junction of his throat.

More smelling. It does something weird to Aiden's insides. He puts his hands into Nigel's wet hair and sighs when he bites. Always a prickle of pain, with him.

He pushes Aiden up against the shower wall with an approving sigh. Aiden lets his hands wander for a while before sinking to his knees. Nigel watches intently, though his expression gives nothing away. Aiden sort of hates that he's so into this guy who clearly isn't sure if he even likes Aiden. Though he's not exactly ambiguous when his hands fasten in Aiden's hair with the first pass of his tongue over his cockhead.

Hard to dislike someone who's sucking your cock, he supposes. And he hadn't seemed to dislike him last night. Aiden probably only likes him more because he's so frustrating. The desire to win him over is something Aiden can't push down, and he sucks him into his mouth with a soft sigh. He'll take this slow. And thorough.

"Fuck," Nigel breathes, stroking his hair, "that's some fucking mouth you've got on you."

Aiden could laugh. He decides against it, just making his throat soft and lips tight as he sucks slowly.

Nigel's hands clench and release. He tastes sharp and new, his body streamlined- not shaped by vanity but a different kind of sinew. Aiden looks up at him as he gets him off and can't help but like what he sees. He's worthy of drawing. There's something primal about him; undeniably powerful.

Nigel's praises are half lost in the water. His hands tighten again, cradling the back of Aiden's skull as he arches with a low, bitten off moan. He's starting to taste sharp. It makes Aiden dig his nails in, sucking harder and faster. He's determined now.

"Fuck, fuck," Nigel utters it over and over, his movements going quick and urgent as his orgasm starts.

Aiden can't control a groan at the sound he makes. He swallows around him as he comes, drinking down and then panting dizzily against his thigh. Nigel pants hard for a moment as he collects himself, fingers playing through his hair, strangely soothing. He swears softly but extensively in Romanian. It makes Aiden smile. He knows it's swearing even if he doesn't speak the language.

"Get up here, gorgeous," Nigel rasps eventually.

Aiden pushes himself to his feet. The kiss Nigel rewards him with is soft and long. Aiden melts into it. It's fixating, urging smiles from him; gentleness. Aiden sighs happily into his mouth.

Nigel nips at his lip. His hands glide everywhere, a consuming slide of pressure that entices him into sighs and arches. The fingers of one of Nigel's big hand creep down to follow his tailbone.

"Nigel," he groans.

An encouraging rumble in response.

"Put your fingers in me," Aiden rasps.

He gets a teasing rub for his demands, pushing his hips back. "On the bed would be better," Nigel mutters.

"Now," Aiden demands. Nigel growls and picks him up, hauling him out of the shower with shocking speed. They're still sopping when Nigel lowers him to the bed; covers him with the anvil weight of his body in seconds as he christens the skin of his throat in kisses. His fingers probe and tease.

Aiden arches up with a muffled gasp, needier than he'd like. Nigel shifts, shouldering in between his thighs.

"Nigel-" a flush crawls from his chest to the very tips of his ears.

Nigel's mouth is on him next. It's a searing heat. He sucks and presses until Aiden's body is yielding. The pad of his finger making circles is enough to send Aiden into raptures. His body shakes, electrified.

"Nigel- you have to stop or-"

"Or what?"

Aiden flushes darker, biting his lip.

Nigel grins."Quick fucking trigger, darling."

"You just -" he groans. Nigel laughs and circles his finger more firmly. Aiden groans again. When he closes his eyes, white spots dance against his lids. "In me," he begs.

"Shouldn't have made me come if you wanted me to fuck you, pup," Nigel murmurs, smearing a kiss against his stomach. He breaches him with a thumb anyway.

The squirm down of his hips happens automatically. It burns through his nerves. "Nigel- more, please, please..."

Nigel swears and lunges for the lube. There's something sharp and lustful in his gaze, an intensity Aiden can't quite fathom in his hazy state. He just knows there's a sudden emptiness, followed by the greedy press of two slick fingers; Nigel’s other hand wrapping slick around his cock.

It sparks a spiraling need. Aiden clutches at his back, his hair, hands slipping over the supple muscle; scars. He starts a needy chorus of moans in tune with beat of Nigel's movements. Nigel winds him up and drives him over.

The first hot, hard curl of pleasure has him trembling all over, hot stripes of white hitting his belly and chest as Nigel squeezes it out of him. He shudders through to the end of it, gasping softly.

"Fuck," he breathes, watching the ceiling piece itself back together.

Nigel strokes his skin now, smearing the mess on his stomach and then gliding down. His hands are devouring as he trails them down his thighs. Aiden can do no more than shiver.

"All the fucking lines of you, fucking pale skin and all this beguiling fucking beauty." Nigel sounds almost accusatory. "It's enough to drive me to fucking distraction, darling."

"Glad I'm not the only one," Aiden gasps.

That gets him a sharp-edged grin. Nigel kisses Aiden's sticky chest with a sigh. "Note to self, we can't shower together if we need to actually shower."

"Something to bear in mind," Aiden agrees. He stretches out, then starts to ease up out of bed again, hair still dripping. "Guess I'll go get back in it."

This time Nigel doesn't follow. It's a little like emerging from a lush, dark forest into the day. Aiden rinses himself down and then dries off.

"Do you have a shirt I can borrow? Mine fell victim to something last night and it smells a little tragic," he calls absently as he emerges towelling his hair.

"Sure," Nigel drawls. When he comes into the bedroom, cigarette tucked in the corner of his mouth, he's still shirtless himself. He wastes no time in bringing a thin sweatshirt over.

Aiden wastes no time pulling it on. Nigel has gone quiet again. He tracks smoke as he leans against the window frame. Aiden looks around for the first time with consideration.

"It's a nice place."

"Only the best for the alpha," Nigel says carelessly.

Aiden blinks it off: it isn't a huge surprise to him that Nigel thinks of himself as 'an alpha male', though it is a little contrived. "Sure."

"I don't usually keep food in the house," Nigel adds after a pause. He’s studying his phone, and something in his posture has changed significantly. Unpleasantly familiar.

Ah, time to go. "That's fine, I can grab something later." Aiden goes to pick up his bag. "So, thanks."

The grin Nigel flashes him should be illegal. "No, thank you."

Aiden can't help smiling, despite the throb of faint disappointment in his chest. "See you around."

"Good luck with your little comic, darling."

Ouch. Aiden just rolls his eyes and lets himself out. Mixed feelings, certainly. He's used to it. He has a history with changeable, violent types, and he suspects Nigel might fit into that category.

Shaking his head, he steps out into the merciless morning sun and goes to find a quiet cafe. He spends a good few hours there, penciling pages and using the wifi to send some edited pages to his editor from his tablet. No one interrupts him, but after a while he becomes aware of a faint prickle on the back of his neck.

Raising a hand to rub at the imaginary itch, he casts his eyes around. On the table close by, a slim, fair man watches him from behind a menu, stringy hair hanging over sharp, ratty features. Aiden holds his gaze for a few moments, and then goes back to his work with a shudder.

After he's updated what he needs to, he diverts to some digital sketches. Predictably, a familiar face starts to emerge from his hectic hatching, gaunt yet full of life, sharp teeth, golden eyes.

Nigel is inspiring if nothing else. It's difficult to stop thinking about him with his teeth marks still in his skin. Aiden makes a few more studies before he slopes off to find somewhere to sleep for the night. Too bad it won't be Nigel's.

It isn't Nigel's the next night either, nor the next. He pulls his book together with fetid keenness and tries not to be sorry.

//

Nigel is wearing his tattiest clothes when he meets Draco that night. They don’t speak for a long moment, just trading a cigarette back and forth, keeping out of the rain with the aid of an awning from a late night grocers, the flashing neon green cross in the window summoning worshippers of the pharmaceutical deities.

Darko seems gaunt as he looks around, dark hair painted with licks of white mint light. He tilts his head toward Nigel in silent question, and when he nods, tosses the cigarette butt.

It lands in the gutter, rainwater drowning it and dragging it toward the drains as two huge, grizzled wolves hunker across the deserted street. The cobbles gleam anew in the lights of an approaching car; the wail of the car horn rings out as the wolves clear the road and continue quickly toward the gates of the nearby park; the cover of the trees.

//

At night, when his things are safely locked away, Aiden wanders the streets. Tonight he's caught watching two girls who are interesting just because they are trying so hard not to be. They whisper to one another as they walk, looking from side to side. Aiden hears one of them mention a club, and that's when he starts to follow in earnest. He's good at being unremarkable when he wants to be. Sneaking around was a skill he developed young.

The girls slip, giggling, down an alleyway. Aiden lags behind until they stop in a doorway. The password they give is in Romanian but he understands it. He waits a few minutes before he speeds up to the door and knocks.

He gives the same password - "wolf's tooth," very dramatic - and slips in, a few leu exchanging hands. Inside, he's hit with pulsing music, not as loud as he expected. Strings of lights, neon signs and a crowded bar. Underwhelming at first glance.

There's something else though, when he looks- he can't quite describe it. The people move in clouds. It's fascinating to watch. It's a pattern- the people standing up circle around the people sitting down, like speed dating but more sporadic. He has no idea what it means, but it has to mean something. He sits and sketches on a bar napkin and watches. And then he feels a breath against his neck.

"And who've we got here?"

He tries to stifle the faint fear in the bottom of his throat when he turns to face the man who had sat so close at the café. His eyes seem to capture the low light.

"Just me," Aiden says cagily.

"Just you. Did you know there's a members only policy in this bar? You have to be invited."

This is the moment where Aiden decides whether he'll tell the truth or lie. The lie is already dancing on the tip of his tongue.

"I was invited," he says easily, "someone gave me the password."

The stranger doesn't look convinced.

"Oh, and who gave it to you?" Aiden hesitates. The stranger grabs him by the front of his shirt.

“Rafe.” Another voice booms over the music, and everything around them seems to pause. The man it belongs to is short haired and strong featured, with small, sharp eyes and a heavy brow. He doesn't look happy to see him – or Aiden. “What’re you doing?”

“Taking out the trash,” Rafe shoots back.

“Let go of him, now.”

“But Darko-”

Abruptly, he’s cowed with a look. The newcomer, Darko, scrutinizes Aiden next. "I think it's about time you cleared yard, kid."

Well, it won't be the first time Aiden's even been tossed out on his ass – but he’s used to fighting for his space. "I'm just having a drink. I know the password. I don't see what the problem is."

Darko sniffs. He holds a warning hand up to Rafe when he twitches by Aiden’s shoulder. "Of course you don't."

A couple more dudes, younger ones, Aiden notices, have taken an interest in his presence- the confrontation. He can't identify what in their body language is quite so intimidating, but suddenly he feels as if he's been converged upon by a pride of lions. This is definitely not good.

"How did you find out about this place?" Darko asks, voice low.

"I followed some pretty girls, man, that's all. Wouldn't any guy?"

The air around them seems to go muted under a frisson of tangible apprehension at his words, but when Aiden looks around he sees the reason and his breath finally slows.

"What's all this about? All of you, clear the fuck off, break it up.”

"Nigel," Aiden murmurs.

"Darko," Nigel intones, sliding an arm around Aiden's shoulders. "What's going on?"

"This kid is with you?" the man named Darko asks.

"Yes, he fucking is. Is there a fucking problem?"

"You gave him the password?" Darko presses. The rest of the guys circling have melted away, save Rafe, who is regarding Nigel with something like loathing in his eyes.

"Yes I gave him the fucking password."

“And why would you do that-?” Rafe spits.

Aiden doesn’t seem Nigel’s answering expression, just feels the way his body tenses, and Rafe visibly shrinks despite keeping his teeth bared.

“If you have a problem with it, you can address it with me at the next meeting, understood?” Nigel breathes. There’s something else there, something vicious and challenging, because Rafe chuffs a breath of disgust and takes a hurried leave.

"Sorry I'm late, darling," Nigel finally addresses Aiden. His arm feels like a steel bar. Shaken, Aiden just shakes his head, a mute dismissal. "Now fuck off," Nigel says softly to Darko.

Another few terse seconds of silent glaring, and Darko goes. Aiden grips his drink tight to displace his nervous energy.

"Aiden," Nigel murmurs, still softly. "Why are you such a fucking troublemaker?"

"Guess it's just in my nature. What's your excuse?"

"Asshole," Nigel answers promptly. He touches Aiden's hair, strangely gentle. "What are you doing in here?"

"Saw some girls coming in from the street. Got curious. It was fine for a while." He looks around, then bites his lip. "What is this place?"

"Private club," Nigel says shortly. He ruffles Aiden's hair again gently. "You shouldn't have come, it's not the place for nice boys like you. Let me take you someplace else."

Aiden scowls. "I'm not that nice."

"You're too nice for this place."

Aiden sighs and slugs back his drink. "Fine. How did you know I was here?"

"Oh, I always have my ears perked for trouble."

"Does that mean you've been spying on me?" When Nigel doesn't answer, Aiden blinks. "Seriously?"

Nigel sticks a cigarette in his mouth. "Come with me." A vice-like hand around his bicep prevents him from arguing. Aiden lets Nigel drag him out into the street. He lights up without a word.

"Where are we going, Nigel?"

"Where would you like to go?"

"I don't know the area."

Nigel snorts. "You did well enough to get in there."

"Why, what's so special about it?" Then he waves a hand and answers himself. "Forget it. I know you're all mobbed up, Nigel. I'm not gonna make trouble for you."

"It seems like that's exactly what you're going to do, gorgeous."

Aiden glares. "Not anymore." He tugs away from Nigel's grip and turns to leave.

"Aiden." The sheer authority in Nigel's voice stalls him. "It's not safe for you to go off on your own tonight."

"Is that an invitation, then?"

"Yes. Come with me. Please." The last word sounds like a struggle.

Aiden huffs and turns back to Nigel, which is unfortunately what his body has wanted all along. Nigel gives him a crooked smile.

"I've got somewhere to show you actually. Might be pertinent to your book."

"At midnight?"

"Absolutely."

Aiden resettles his bag strap and waits for Nigel to drop his smoke. When he does he wraps his arm around Aiden's back gently.

"Come on, darling."

Aiden goes with a sigh that’s only half as annoyed as he’d like it to be. At least, with Nigel, he feels safe.

He leads them through the streets at a sedate pace, trailing smoke, cutting a long swathe of shadow against the glaring streetlights. Aiden follows, feeling like a ghost. Eventually, Nigel takes him down an alleyway and gestures to some bins.

"Let me give you a boost."

Aiden snorts. "Sketchy."

"You snuck into a fucking shady members-only joint. You love sketchy."

"Didn't deny that."

"Go on, get up."

He does, onto the bins and then up onto the roof of the building Nigel points him to. For an older man he seems

to make the climb almost effortlessly. Aiden waits, crouched on a ledge. Nigel leads him across the rooftops with a casual set to his shoulders. He moves sure-footedly. Aiden feels a little clumsy as he scrambles over roof tiles behind him. The height is making him a bit dizzy, but the city spreads out below like a blanket of stars, endless and irregular.

"Nigel," he calls, weakly, "I'm not good with heights."

"It's not much farther, darling."

He leads Aiden up another ledge, to the rooftop of a building that seems to be crumbling even where they walk.

"This way."

Aiden picks his way along until Nigel stops. He boosts Aiden up onto a final rooftop- a lip of slabs that open onto the roof of the church Aiden had first met Nigel in.

"Aw, how sweet," Aiden snarks.

"Shut up, come look at the statues for your fucking book."

"Statues?" Aiden murmurs. He didn't know there were statues.

When he sees them, he goes stock still. Nigel gives him a little shove to make him wobble and then lets him look.

"It's a nice view of the city, too." Nigel lights up and looks out that direction. "You fucking forgive me now, huh?"

"Don't think I don't know you brought me up here to get me the fuck out of the way," Aiden grumbles.

"You should thank me then."

"How would you like me to?" Aiden replies.

"Just take photos. Draw. Do whatever it is you want to fucking do, darling."

Aiden sighs and pulls out his sketch pad and his phone for light. He hates that Nigel has him figured out. He hates being predictable. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Nigel settle on the very lip of the rooftop, back against the stone base of the great wolf statue, his cigarette cherry leaving streaks of light in the air as he settles. It’s a warm night and the sky is humming with the city bustle.

Aiden lets the awareness filter back out of his mind. He just draws.

He only looks up when he hears cloth shifting against stone. Nigel is watching him, the irises of his eyes caught by the streetlights below. They gleam bright gold. Aiden holds his gaze.

"You done tolerating me for the night?"

"I don't know what I did to suggest I find you anything less than fucking enchanting, Aiden."

Aiden snorts and starts packing his sketchbook back up.

"Done tolerating me for the night?" Nigel parrots.

"Yes, as it happens."

The smile fades. He stands up, brushing himself down. "I see."

"You don't," Aiden tells him.

"What don't I fucking see then, Aiden?"

"You think I'm a toy, and you think I don't notice."

It visibly displeases him. Nigel throws his butt off to the side so sparks fly where it lands. "You think I'd take you to the fucking church where I got married if I thought you were a toy? You think I'd bring you here, a place you're not meant to fucking be? Fucking protect you when you nearly got your pretty little ass trashed back there?"

"I don't know why you did any of it," Aiden snaps back, "and I don't think you do either."

"Certainly not because you're a toy. Toys are fun."

"Your fun isn't normal. I know that much."

"You are on your way to insulting me, Aiden, I'd be careful how much further you push." It makes Aiden shiver despite himself. Nigel adjusts his shoulders a bit at his silence. "Where are you staying? I'll take you home."

"Yeah, about that...."

Nigel tilts his head. "Yes?"

"Do you know any good places to squat?"

He nods. "Sure. Come on." He holds his hand out.

Aiden takes it hesitantly. But his grip is gentle as he helps Aiden back down to the street and hails them a cab. Aiden allows himself to be led.

It's stiflingly quiet in the back of the cab, at least until Nigel lights a cigarette and has a short conversation with the cab driver that results in an even worse one. When they pull up, Aiden gets out after Nigel, and that's when he realizes they're at his apartment block.

"Hey, this wasn't what I meant."

"I know that, but I told you, I'm not fucking happy with you running around old Bucharest tonight."

"Why, what's tonight?"

"It's a local thing, someone nearly always gets shot, probably you going by your track record. Come inside. If you're still sick of my shit by tomorrow you can go to a fucking hostel if you want."

Aiden sighs. "Fine." He tries not to feel bad about how put out Nigel seems with him. It's just...all gotten to be too much.

"Are we going to talk about why you're upset with me?" Nigel asks, when they're safely inside. He passes Aiden a beer from the fridge before sitting down on the pristine leather couch with his own.

Aiden sighs and relents, curling into the corner of the couch. He can't stop watching Nigel- lighting himself a cigarette as he waits calmly.

"I'm sorry," Aiden says finally, still sullenly.

"You don't have to be sorry, gorgeous, just tell me what's going on."

"You are," Aiden grouses. "You take me home and fuck me so good I can't remember my last name, then you boot me out the next morning like a bin full of empty bottles."

Perhaps it isn't the answer he's expecting, or perhaps his ego isn't buoyed by such matters, because Nigel leans forward to touch Aiden's knee with genuine concern drawing his face.

"Darling... that isn't how I felt at all. I was under the impression you wouldn't be in Bucharest for long, and..." he sighs. "I was anticipating attachment."

Aiden sniffs. "Sure."

"I'm fucking serious. I thought you'd frown upon spending the rest of your trip face down on my bed." Aiden shivers, his scowl falling away. "Oh," Nigel's expression goes foxlike, "you wouldn't have?"

"Shut up, Nigel."

"Make me, gorgeous."

Aiden narrows his eyes. "If you'd have been a little nicer, maybe I would."

"You can hold a fucking grudge, can't you?" Nigel says almost admiringly. "All right, gorgeous." He stands up, setting his beer aside before he slinks down in front of him with a slow smile. "Can I make it up to you?"

"Y-yes," Aiden stutters.

Nigel reaches out and strokes up his thighs. "Come here then."

"I'm...here."

Nigel responds by taking him by the undersides of his knees and jerking him gently closer, slumping him down the couch. He leans in to rub his cheek against Aiden's zipper with a hum, stubble crackling against the fabric and metal. He looks as content as he sounds with the prospect.

Aiden can only sigh in approval, traitorous body waking up immediately to the friction. When Nigel turns his nose into the cross seam and inhales deeply, he feels himself fill out quicker.

"You're so weird-"

"And you’re not?" Nigel mumbles, lips rubbing over the denim.

"I must be crazy to be here when you're obviously a gangster or something – were you really having me followed?"

Nigel hums. "Just to keep you safe, gorgeous."

"Yeah, well-" Aiden gasps as Nigel palms his crotch this time and squeezes. "Jesus, Nigel-"

"It's okay?"

"Yeah-"

He’s telegraphing every motion and waiting for his nod, which only makes Aiden tense with anticipation. It's good to be asked, though, he feels more in control, even when Nigel unzips his jeans and frees his cock from his boxers, already flush; slapping against his belly. Nigel hums.

"You little slut," he says approvingly.

Aiden bites back a whimper. "You do this to me."

"And it is very fucking fetching on you, my darling." He tucks the band of his underwear under his balls before he takes him in hand. Color explodes in Aiden's cheeks, fingers squeaking in the couch leather.

He whimpers when Nigel opens his mouth and leans in. The texture of his palate makes Aiden groan; the rub of his tongue as he takes him in. He bucks up before he can help himself and Nigel groans. He gives Aiden’s bare hip a little slap.

"S-sorry," Aiden babbles, touching at his hair apologetically, watching him sink further with a high gasp.

It’s like being pinned down by a living furnace. Nigel grips his hips with both hands and works him entirely with his mouth, throat soft and wet when he takes Aiden down. He does it without a twinge or a moment’s hesitation.

"Holy fuck," Aiden gasps. He’s never been blown like this in his life. It's relentless, bottomless, long strokes of his mouth and then the squeezing tunnel of his throat. Aiden feels possessed. He feels- like he'll come in thirty seconds flat. It’s all he can do to get his hands in Nigel’s hair and tug.

That gets him a low growl for his trouble.

"Please, Nigel," he whimpers. "Gonna come -"

He relents, cleaning Aiden up gently with his tongue before he finds his voice. "You're allowed, unless you'd rather wait-?"

Aiden nods. That, he wants that.

"Tell me what you want, Aiden."

"God, Nigel, please fuck me. Please. Right the fuck now."

He wastes no time in starting to strip Aiden's pants off. "Even though you're sick of my shit, huh?"

"I'll forget all about it if you fuck me," Aiden snaps.

"You are one demanding little shit." Nigel tugs him up and strips the shirt off him. "Stay there."

Where would he go? He feels like a pinned butterfly. Nigel goes to his room and returns with supplies.

"Over the arm," he directs simply.

Aiden obeys silently, hips quivering, dick smearing against the leather.

It's cold but does little to calm him as Nigel sets a hand against the small of his back, strangely soothing while he clicks open the tube he brought with him. Aiden is afraid he's about to be making all sorts of embarrassing noises.

He's right. He whines as soon as Nigel's slick middle finger slides between his cheeks. He's not going to need much of that. Or at least he doesn't want much.

Nigel, hedonist that he is, finds his prostate with the first thrust. It triggers an entirely undignified moan from Aiden.

"I will come on your fancy fucking couch before you even get inside me," he warns.

"No, you won't," Nigel murmurs. He pulls him up gently to kiss the back of his neck; nose under his ear. "You'll be good for me, won't you?"

Aiden nods, curls sticking to the back of his neck. He feels Nigel's clothed cock riding against the back of his hip as he strokes inside him quicker. 

"So gorgeous, Aiden." His teeth prickle the back of his neck. "Did you think I'd forgotten you?"

"What, you didn't?" Aiden scoffs.

"I spent quite a bit of time fucking craving you, pretty boy."

"Maybe- ah!" Nigel presses another wet finger inside, rendering him breathless for a second. "Maybe if you'd

asked I would have stuck around, oh fuck..."

"We've already covered what would've happened," Nigel murmurs. "Would've looked like this."

"Yes, but I wouldn't be pissed at you."

"You won't be in a minute."

"I'm counting down the seconds," Aiden snarks. At a curl of Nigel’s fingers, he gasps despite himself. "Can you just fuck me already?"

Nigel growls softly in his ear. "Bend over."

Aiden shivers and flattens himself down over the sofa arm. It's nearly torture listening to Nigel fuck around with lube. He muffles a whine against the leather. When he feels the head of Nigel's cock bump against his perineum he can't help but arch.

"Look at you, pushing that ass up for me," Nigel croons.

"God you're the worst." Aiden groans as Nigel takes himself in hand and pushes in. He sinks in to the base in one slow, smooth movement, gripping Aiden's hips firmly, and Aiden's hands fly back, reaching for him.

Nigel grips his wrists instead, gentle even as he eases back and snaps his hips forward again. It's so much; Aiden can't handle how deep he feels. He makes a weak sound, and Nigel stops, squeezing his wrist.

"Good?"

Aiden nods mutely, knowing he can't speak without crying out.

"Aiden." Nigel waits. "Tell me. I don't want to hurt you."

"I just want more," he breathes.

"Okay." Nigel moves again immediately, smooth but faster now, a few long thrusts and then a steadier rhythm. One of his hands has found Aiden's hair and is stroking through his curls.

It's everything he wanted, the stretch and slide and his gentle touches. Aiden can't hold back his cries. Nigel murmurs soft Romanian into his ear. Aiden only knows enough to pick up "sweet". He whimpers anyway.

Nigel's tongue stripes the skin on the back of his neck gently before he braces a hand on the couch and jags his hips faster. Aiden can't help it, he goes boneless under it.

"Oh my god, yes-"

His skin is on fire. He feels Nigel's hand curl tighter into his hair as he snaps his hips forward, Aiden's spine dipping gratefully. He feels filled in every capacity, overwhelmed with touch.

"Can you come like this?" Nigel murmurs.

"I want your hand," Aiden breathes, "please?"

Nigel wraps an arm around his chest, and a hand around his cock. The groan that bleeds out of Aiden is verging on desperate. No - it's there.

"Nigel," he begs. He feels his hand tighten as he fucks him faster. "Nigel," he moans more softly.

"Yes, darling." His voice is rough with strain.

"I can't wait."

"You don't have to wait." He squeezes him and Aiden gasps. "Let me hear you."

As if permission was all he needed, Aiden feels himself come in black and inescapable waves. Nigel fucks him through the clench, choking more little cries out of him as his cock keeps pulsing. He bites at the nape of Aiden's neck as he inevitably follows.

"Oh god," Aiden gasps, arching up for the fast slap of Nigel's hips as he fucks out the last of it. " Ah-!"

He's crushed against Nigel's chest, cries trailing off. Eventually Nigel turns his hot mouth against his neck and sighs hard. "Absolutely fucking stunning, gorgeous."

"N-Nigel," he sighs.

He all but whimpers when Nigel slips free; kisses his back. "Come take a shower."

Aiden lets himself be helped to his feet, wobbles into the bathroom. Nigel's hands are startlingly gentle on him as he turns on the water. The bathroom is gleaming and new.

"Just a shower this time?" Aiden murmurs.

"I think that's for the best, gorgeous, don't you?"

Aiden nods tiredly. He startles a bit when Nigel steers him down to the tiled shower floor and sits behind him, wrapping one gentle arm across his middle. The water runs over Aiden's chest, blissfully hot.

"How come you're out here all alone, Aiden?" Nigel asks softly, stroking his hair.

"I'm an acquired taste. Takes too long to acquire."

He shivers when Nigel kisses his throat, cradling his jaw with gentle fingers. "That's not what I've found."

Aiden laughs. "Sex is easy. People want me. Liking me is harder."

"Why is it harder? What's so unlikeable about you?"

Aiden just shrugs. He feels abruptly so aware of his loneliness. Nigel's gentle touch almost makes it worse.

"I like you just fine," Nigel promises him quietly. His lips press again.

"Guess I belonged in the mobster club after all."

"No," Nigel sounds decisive, "you're much too sweet for that fucking scene."

"Then I guess I just belong here."

"Don't sound so fucking delighted." He sounds amused. Aiden scowls up at him and Nigel squeezes him. "Hey. I'm joking. I like you being here. I want you here. I... I was fucking glad I ran into you at the club."

"Thought you were following me."

"All right, I'm glad I fucking heard you were at the club."

Aiden flashes his teeth in a smile. "That's better."

"Little fuck," Nigel says, fondly.

"Sure am."

Despite himself, he huddles back into Nigel's arms, reluctant even to wash up. Nigel doesn't make him, but eventually he reaches for the soap and starts to wash him gently with his own hands. Aiden can't remember the last time anyone did anything for him. Or that he allowed it. He'd be embarrassed if he wasn't so horribly grateful.

Nigel is humming like he is enjoying himself. He's entirely too thorough, slinking from behind Aiden and letting him lean against the shower wall in order to lather his feet; up his calves. It feels incredible after a while.

"Why are you so fucking weird?" he mumbles despite himself.

"Why are you?"

"That's not an answer."

Nigel snorts and rinses him, then steers him onto the bathmat. "I'm weird because I don't care what anyone thinks of me."

He offers Aiden a towel; uses his own to dry off and then scrubs his hair with it, unabashedly naked as ever, tan and muscle more prominent in the yellow bathroom light.

"No one?" Aiden questions him.

"No one, kid." He throws the towel in the hamper and walks through to the bedroom to retrieve his cigarettes.

Aiden follows, wanting very much to ask a very stupid question. As if he senses it, Nigel catches his eye as he pulls his shorts on.

"Except for you, gorgeous."

"What a line."

He puffs smoke with his laugh, turning on the TV on the wall and handing Aiden the remote. "I need to sleep, gorgeous. Come to bed with me."

Aiden nods, still clutching the towel around his waist. Nigel goes to retrieve their beers from before and brings Aiden a pair of soft sleep pants.

Curling up in Nigel's bed is like curling into a warm den. He's a radiator behind him, one arm tucked under his neck. Aiden sips his beer and listens to the unfamiliar language from the TV wash over him.

"Slept in a church last night," he muses aloud, "feels good to relax."

Nigel sighs gently into his ear. "You're killing me."

"Not trying."

"That's what's so lethal about it."

"Just go to sleep, Nigel."

He kisses under Aiden's ear. "Take your own advice."

"Sure." He puts the bottle aside and closes his eyes.

Nigel stubs out his cigarette and smooths his hand up Aiden's belly gently. It's so soothing. He sleeps almost immediately.

Chapter Text

Nigel smokes and watches the sun come up, the sleeping boy warm against his chest. He's soaking up as much of the warmth as he can. He's so sweet, this boy, with tantalizing little pinprick claws. Nigel hasn't felt so affectionate for a long time, his hand soothing down Aiden's side.

Smooth young skin, so tempting. He's never been much good at resisting temptation. Much better at indulging in it. He dashes out his smoke at the thought and leans down to kiss Aiden's ribs. He smells like Nigel's soap now, which he enjoys. And he's waking up under the touch, stretching out with a long sigh.

"Beautiful Aiden," Nigel murmurs.

He hums into the mattress. "Nn, s'nice, Nigel."

"Of course it is," Nigel purrs.

He smiles when Aiden backs up against him with a little roll of his hips. Insatiable. Nigel is too. He lets him squirm back against him at will, breaths becoming unrestrained, Nigel's touches firm and careful.

It doesn't take long for him to get vocal. Nigel wonders absently if the pleasure he takes in this young, wild thing makes him some kind of pervert. The thought is distasteful to him.

"How old are you?" he asks.

"Twenty-four," Aiden answers absently, turning in his arms and pressing greedily back into the warmth of his body. "Why?"

That's not as bad as he thought. "Just wondering."

Aiden snorts. "Sure."

He slips his hands down the back of Aiden's shorts - how could he resist? Predictably, Aiden bridges his hips against him, lips parting as he gets breathless, sharp little teeth on show. The bluest of eyes, dark shining curls...

"When do you have to leave again?" Nigel wonders aloud, kissing up the side of his throat.

"I extended my rail pass," Aiden says distractedly.

"Thatta boy." He sucks at the artery just under Aiden's jaw. The ragged little groan it earns him kisses his nerves, making him grip him tighter.

"Tell me what you want today," he murmurs into the skin.

"Limit my options."

"Nah." Nigel prickles him with his teeth. It inspires another pretty little sound. Nigel closes his eyes and inhales slowly.

"You're- there's something about you," Aiden says, voice barely above a whisper. "What is it?"

Nigel laughs softly. "There's a lot of things about me, darling."

"Yeah, maybe. You're different, though."

"Is that a problem?"

"Do I look like I think it's a problem?"

"Not so much."

"Good, because I don't." He kisses lightly along Nigel's cheekbone.

"What shall we do today?" Nigel asks.

"I continue to need a tour guide," Aiden replies pertly.

"Hmm, I'll see what I can do."

"Love this vacation." Aiden rubs their hips together. His simple, unashamed need lights as much of a fire in Nigel as his touch.

"I'm enjoying it too."

"Got any sights you want to show me right now?"

"I can think of fucking hundreds, gorgeous."

"Surprise me?"

Nigel flips him gently onto his back and leans to kiss his chest. "How about I show you a good morning?"

"I won't say no."

"Good." Nigel nips his stomach. Then he skims lower, until it triggers a shy laugh.

"You seem to really like giving head," Aiden observes.

"I do, in fact."

"Not a criticism," Aiden points out hastily.

"Not stopping." Nigel takes him into his mouth.

"Oh-! God..." Aiden sounds appealingly wrecked already.

Nigel hums with pleasure. It's easy to work him up. He smells like fireworks and salt like this, the tang of arousal filling Nigel's nose, clogging the back of his throat. It's inexplicably gratifying, just knowing it's for him.

Aiden runs his fingers through his hair as he does it. He's already so hard for him. Nigel muses that his cock is the perfect size for him to take all the way in; that the way he bucks and whines is perfect too.

Nigel keeps him right on the edge of frantic for some minutes.

"Nigel, either let me come or don't," he whines.

Don't, Nigel smirks. He curls loose fingers around the base of Aiden's neat cock, thumbing gently at the soft skin of his sack. "You want to come like this?" he murmurs.

He shakes his head quickly, flush and breathless.

"Tell me how."

"I wanna suck you off, too."

Nigel laughs and yanks Aiden's hips farther down the bed, then drops his own trousers and moves to straddle his shoulders.

"Oh fuck-" Aiden squirms under him, and Nigel catches his hands; presses a kiss to each palm before he presses them down into the mattress. It sparks shivers in him, the way Aiden shifts to line up with his cock as fast as he can, pretty mouth gaping open. He takes him in fast, and deep, and desperate. Nigel actually has to hold back to keep him from choking himself.

"Careful, gorgeous."

Just a soft hum in reply. Nigel stares avidly as his lashes flutter and his throat works. He wasn't lying- Aiden is the prettiest thing he's seen. He forgets himself daily, under the merciless sun of his face.

"That's it, gorgeous," he purrs, "you suck that cock like you mean it."

It makes him take him deeper. He can barely catch his breath. Nigel watches him closely, caution under the curling arousal: he doesn't want to hurt him – not too much. He's still holding his hands, though.

When he loosens his hold, Aiden laces their fingers instead. Nigel groans softly and flexes his hips slowly. It's the noises that get him, little wet gulps and moans. He finally pulls back just so he doesn't come and end things.

Aiden stares up at him for a few long moments, breathing hard, and then he crawls up from under him and winds his arms around Nigel's neck. His kisses travel across Nigel's cheek and jaw, small and light.

"Pretty thing," Nigel says softly.

Aiden's eyes shine. They kiss again slowly. Their hips rub together as Nigel rolls them back down onto the sheets. Aiden pushes up on his arms to get more leverage, curls falling into his eyes as he rocks. He gasps at the sensations, sweet sounds, and Nigel loves the way a flush creeps across his face and chest. He cups his cheeks and kisses the little stuttering sounds from his lips.

"That's nice, pretty."

Aiden nods, lips parted around his breaths. "Touch us now," he says.

Nigel uses both hands to palm their cocks together. It's slick, pressing, too hot. "Move, gorgeous."

Aiden nods and starts to thrust. His little whines, Christ. Nigel can't get his breath. He watches the expressions cross Aiden's face. He's leaking so much, making the slide smooth as he rocks. It won't take long- for Nigel either. The scent of Aiden is making him half-drunk.

"That’s it, that’s a good boy," he kisses him hard.

Aiden makes a helpless noise and bucks up into him even harder. Tightening his grip, Nigel sucks on the tip of his tongue as he feels his movements stutter.

"Yes," he croons. The feeling of Aiden coming like a fucking teenager is only half as hot as the way he moans against Nigel's mouth. The slide of his come eases the rub of their skin. "That's it pretty, very good-"

Aiden's breath staggers. "Nigel. Lemme- what do you want?"

"Your hand, gorgeous. Your hand."

Aiden complies eagerly. He wraps his calloused fingers tight and strokes through all of his own mess. Nigel tips his head back with a sigh. It feels even better than expected.

"Fuck yes, that's fucking perfect." He lets out a groaning breath. "Keep going, baby."

He bites his lip when Aiden kisses his throat. His kisses are sweet and not at all biting. God, he's too good. Nigel comes with the brush of his pretty lips against his Adam's Apple. He comes with a soft noise and not a violent cry at all.

Afterwards, they lie panting, Aiden smushed up under Nigel's chin and arms like he doesn't even mind. Maybe he doesn't. He's the perfect size for it. Not so small he feels fragile. Still delicate- and fuck, what is Nigel thinking? He's afraid he knows.

"Fuck," he mutters.

Aiden makes an inquiring noise and...cuddles. "What shall we do today?" he says, voice muffled by the proximity of his mouth to Nigel's chest.

"Suppose our next step is to get cleaned up."

"And after that?"

"Go out on the town, darling, what else?"

"Can we go to the museum today?"

Nigel grins. "Museum it is." It ought to keep him out of trouble at least. Nigel has plenty of ideas for other trouble he can get him into.

After showering and dressing, they head out, Aiden hanging somewhat shyly onto Nigel's arm on and off. He's more full of fun than Nigel gave him credit for, leapfrogging over traffic cones and snagging ice cream for breakfast. He smiles each time, expecting a return smile which Nigel is only too happy to provide. He's also entirely too happy to watch him lick cherry sauce from his thumb as they walk.

He's looking at Aiden in the museum, too. After all, he's seen it before. He isn't sure why Aiden not lingering to hold his hand in there annoys him slightly, until he comes back to Nigel and laces the fingers of both as he leans to kiss him.

"Having fun?" Nigel asks him.

"Yes! I wanna draw some stuff, do you mind?"

"Do you mind if I go get a coffee downstairs?" Nigel replies easily.

"No." He flicks his hair. "I'll come find you in an hour? I only wanna make some quick sketches."

"Sounds great, darling."

"Okay." He kisses him again quick and then hauls his bag higher on his shoulder. Nigel watches him go fondly. Keeping him from getting in trouble, still. He'll take it.

He orders a very expensive espresso in the museum cafe and smokes by the window with a newspaper while he waits. Darko would laugh if he could see it. It's not Nigel's fault. They don't serve beer.

Maybe he'll take Aiden to a pub later. A human place where Aiden can relax, and Nigel doesn't have to watch him so closely. Yes, that's exactly what they both need.

A curl of scent on the air makes him raise his head, and then he narrows his eyes at the sight of Rafe peering in through the cafeteria door. He raises a summoning hand, fury threatening to creep up on him.

Seeping disdain from every pore, Rafe drags himself over.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing here?” Nigel demands shortly.

“Well, I was asked to keep an eye on someone…” his eyes flash up to Nigel’s briefly. “On your instruction I believe. But – seems you’ve already got an eye on him. More than that.”

“Consider yourself fucking relieved of your charge. If I catch you back at it, I’ll relieve you of more than that, do you understand?”

A short, terse silence. Rafe looks like he wants to growl - to challenge. Instead, he opts for crawling.

“Whatever you say, Nigel.”

“That’s what I thought. Get the fuck away from him. Leave, now.”

Rafe only waits another few seconds before he does as he’s bid, shoulders hunched and collar up. He gestures, and Nigel sees two other little mutts go scrabbling after him.

Taking a long drag on his cigarette, Nigel turns back to his paper, but his eyes flick over the same sentence for a good few minutes before he finally turns the page.

Aiden comes to find him a while later, a smudge of charcoal on his cheek. Nigel smirks and reaches over to smear it. "Messy pup," he says, in Romanian.

"You call me that a lot, are you gonna translate?" Aiden asks with a grin.

"I don't think you'll like it."

"I like the way you sound when you say it."

"That's a good start. You want a drink?"

"Yeah, that would be great."

Nigel gets up to go get him one, and when he comes back, Aiden is scribbling in his sketchbook again. Nigel sets the cup down and peeks over his shoulder.

"Thank you," Aiden says, leaning his head against his. Nigel studies his drawing. It's from a sculpture he's seen before.

"Gorgeous," he murmurs.

"Thanks," Aiden's ears turn pink.

"Is this for your book?"

"Yeah- well, I like to keep it loose."

Nigel doesn't really know what he means, but he's still pink and it's charming.

"Like, just fluid," Aiden continues, "try to draw different stuff every day."

"I like it. Did you do any others?"

He sees Aiden's little hesitation before he hands him the sketchbook. Gaze questioning, Nigel sits down opposite him again to look at it. Paging through, he can tell why Aiden hesitated. Lots of naked bodies in here. Lots of beautiful architecture too; scenery and coffee cups and airport departure lounges and - Nigel.

Nigel glances up, brow quirked. Aiden has gone very red by now.

"You really are good, kid."

"Thanks." He sips his drink and looks away.

Nigel keeps studying the book. One of the sketches of him is adjacent to a tidal wave snarling of wolves. He keeps his face blank. But something stirs in his chest, a strange, foreign pleasure. He closes the book and hands it back. "Thank you," he says quietly.

"Sorry," Aiden tucks it away hurriedly. He's got his funny little half smile on, but he's still crimson.

"Thought I'd take you to a pub near here later," Nigel says smoothly. "Maybe the park first?"

"Okay, sounds good."

Nigel leaves a few bills on the table and offers Aiden an arm. Outside in the sun, Aiden is still pink but he lets his arm drop to start shrugging off his jacket. Nigel pulls his shades out of his pocket and slips them on. This way he can more freely study the long line of Aiden's bare neck; his shirt gaping around his collarbones. The way his cargo pants hang off his hipbones when the hem shifts. God, Nigel needs to see this kid in something that isn't baggy sometime. Then again, he might not survive it.

He calms himself with a smoke. He just fucked the kid this morning, for fuck's sake. He doesn't know what it is.

"Can we get something to take to the park? Food?"

"Sure, gorgeous. Let's do it."

They do. This is developing into something Nigel isn't sure he recognizes, watching Aiden eat a sandwich with his feet tucked under himself where they're sat in the shade of a towering oak. He's not the guy who sits in the sun, in the fucking grass of a park. He doesn't like that it feels good, that he wants to bask.

"It's beautiful here," Aiden murmurs.

Nigel nods, blowing smoke slowly up at the sky. He doesn't take his eyes off Aiden behind his shades. "Sure is."

"Aren't you hungry?" Aiden asks.

"Sure I am, precious." He takes a bite of his own sandwich. He'd been neglecting it while he stared and smoked. Caught.

Aiden flashes him a little, knowing smile and goes back to his own. Nigel likes him when he's relaxed, but he likes the kid's pattering conversation too. When they're done eating, Aiden stretches out and leans into Nigel with a sigh.

"Do you think we'll ever see each other again after this?"

"I don't know." Best to be honest.

"Me neither. Kind of sad, though," Aiden adds.

"It is, isn't it?" Nigel keeps his tone casual.

With a sigh, Aiden slides down dramatically until his head is in Nigel's lap. "Just find it weird how you can be so close to someone and then it can all just go away."

"Happens all the time," Nigel says with a shrug. He can't resist reaching out to stroke Aiden's curls. "I guess intimacy is a fire that needs to be continually stoked."

Aiden stifles a smile. "Stroked, maybe."

Nigel tugs his hair gently. "Oh yeah?"

Aiden just smirks. Nigel nudges him up with a knee to kiss him. He'll enjoy that as much as he can while he can. And he really does enjoy it. He'll admit it - he was wrong about Aiden, he may be a security risk and a little asshole but mostly he's a fucking treasure. Well- certainly hot enough to be worth all the shit that comes with him. He needs a distraction right now, he reasons. Things are tense.

Aiden wraps around him like he dreads any inch of separation. God, he's sweet. Nigel should be hesitating to kiss the boy out in public, he knows. Thankfully, he's a big scary cunt and he can drop anyone who says a wrong word. Even so, he pets him as he pulls away.

"Finish your lunch," he says.

"Whatever you say," Aiden mumbles. He does, without any argument.

It's getting on when they're finished up, and Nigel winds them back into the city proper to find them a bar. Aiden's been telling stories about visiting England for a while now - Nigel nodding and letting the words wash over him and occasionally answering Aiden's questions about Romanian words on signs.

When they find a place- so trendy and new none of Nigel's crew would ever be caught dead there- and they're both set up with drinks, it's Aiden's turn to prompt for stories. "Come on, Nigel, I think - I know you've done more interesting things than you let on."

Nigel debates internally, then he shrugs. "I've done a lot of things, you'll have to be more specific."

"Do you like to travel? What's your favorite place?"

"I don't travel much, no, I've been to a few places here - Austria. France, Spain. Finland, too. Lived in Austria for a while – but the rest is just business."

"Business," Aiden murmurs, like a little brat.

"Business, holidays." Nigel chucks under his chin. "My home is here."

"I can tell."

"Oh yeah?"

Aiden nods, grinning.

"How can you tell?"

"It's the way you talk about it. The way you look at it. Trust me, I don't have a home like that."

The way he sounds it is unmistakably wistful. Nigel touches their pinky fingers together. "What happened to your home?"

"Military family...moved around a lot...never really fit in anywhere."

"Fitting in ain't all fucking that," Nigel mutters.

"Try to tell teenage me that," Aiden laughs dryly.

Nigel looks at his drink, then takes a swig. "I'd say the same thing to him."

"Oh, he wouldn't have listened. And he'd have probably told you to fuck yourself."

"I probably wouldn't have liked that."

"No, I can't imagine you would have." Aiden's hand finds his thigh under the table. He's bold again now the sun's gone down. Luckily, Nigel likes him bold. They grin at one another slyly. Aiden slides closer.

He's steadied by Nigel's hand in his hair, fingers scritching gently. Aiden's eyes light.

"Cățeluș," Nigel murmurs.

"I hope that means something hot."

Nigel smirks. "Sure, Aiden."

"Oh, that's not very reassuring."

"What can I do to reassure you, gorgeous?"

Aiden looks around, then grins. "I'm sure I can think of something."

"Don't take too long, I'm going to run out of beer soon enough."

That makes him bite his lip. Nigel could watch that all evening.

They drink another couple of beers each before Aiden gets up the courage to explain why he's doing it. He stands and leans to murmur in Nigel's ear. "Follow me in a minute. I can't wait until later to suck you off."

Nigel grins. "I like the sound of this."

He watches Aiden go, expression coy, and takes a draw of his beer to calm himself. Okay, so he didn't entirely keep the kid out of trouble. He'll be there too.

He finishes his beer in a couple of swallows and goes to find Aiden. He can't help feeling like he's stalking prey. He pushes into the toilets and resists inhaling to find Aiden- though he could.

He sees the kid's feet in the far stall. A little drum of his fingers against the door signals Aiden to let him in. When he does, he's pink in the face, shirt already gaping at the neck.

"This is fucking cozy."

"Sure is." Aiden licks his lips. When Nigel pushes him up against the door and kisses him, he can almost taste his whimpers. It's delicious. He's delicious as ever.

He pushes Nigel back with noticeable effort and gets carefully down to his knees. Nigel's already ready for him, belt and pants undone one-handed. Aiden gives him a little arched brow for his trouble as he tugs them down. Nigel smirks. Kid shouldn't be surprised.

"Rough and ready, Nigel," he chirps as he leans in to nuzzle the outline of his cock through his boxers.

"Oughtta be my motto."

Aiden's hair is soft under his fingers. His mouth against the cotton is a tease. Nigel luxuriates in the quiet pleasure of it for a minute before he arches with growing impatience.

Aiden laughs. "Oh really?"

"What, you hoped we'd be in this toilet stall for a couple of fucking hours yet?" He steers Aiden's mouth back to his cock.

Now, Aiden pulls his boxers down and opens his mouth. Nigel groans when he takes him inside. God, he's good. He's good, and this is dirty and perfect.

Nigel curls his fingers tighter in his hair and arches his hips. He uses his mouth, unashamedly. The little groans and wet gasps Aiden gives are more than sufficient encouragement. He's brought to the edge quickly and ruthlessly.

Aiden takes him deep; swallows around him. His hands on Nigel's hips are tight.

"Here it fucking comes, kid," Nigel mutters.

He's wound tight; Aiden groans in appreciation. When Nigel grips his head and fucks his mouth as he comes, Aiden's nails cut into his skin. The smell of blood only makes his hips jerk harder. Aiden pulls back with a choking gasp when he loosens his grip, panting into the crook of his hip. Nigel leans back against the stall door.

"Very nice, gorgeous."

"Wish I could say the same for your manners," Aiden grumbles, without heat. He’s still smiling.

"Never claimed to have any."

He tucks himself away as Aiden wipes his face.

"Ready to go, Nigel?"

"Yeah," Nigel murmurs. He'll have his way with the kid again at home.

He slings an arm around him as they walk. Maybe the baggy cargo pants are good for something, he muses. Aiden is flushed but other than that, not visibly ruffled. He's also leaning hard into Nigel, possibly the real tell of how he's feeling.

"I had a good day," he whispers.

It does something to Nigel, it really does. "So you want to stay a while longer?" He touches his hair gently.

"If you'll have me."

"Oh, on every fucking surface I have available, darling."

"Sounds like quite the undertaking."

They grin at one another. Nigel leads them outside and hails a cab.

Back at the flat, Aiden goes in the shower while Nigel orders take out. His enhanced hearing doesn't give him any hints as to what Aiden does in there by himself. When he comes back, his main concern seems to be eating - what's new?

He's pretty sure the kid's rail pass is the only thing he's spent money on for this adventure. He wonders if he finds a meal ticket in every city he visits. Not that he begrudges him a thing. He's certainly a diversion and a half.

"Take out on its way, gorgeous."

"Ahh, thanks." He beams, folding his arms around Nigel's neck. "You're being sweet today," he purrs.

"Well, I didn't want you to have another fucking tantrum."

Aiden yanks on a lock of his hair. Nigel grabs his hand and twists it up his back, slamming him gently into the wall. His mouth finds the skin of his shoulder; his damp hair.

"Bad pup."

Aiden makes a noise that sounds very much like a whimper. Nigel relents, freeing his hand to touch slowly down his flanks, feeling his fast pulse.

"Mm. I didn't forget you."

"You forgot I like my arms unbroken," Aiden snarks.

"I'm not even close, darling. Tell me you don't like it a little bit?"

A little shiver with the heat of his breath. Aiden shifts under the weight of his body. "Only a little."

Nigel thinks he's lying. He bites at the back of his neck and hums in satisfaction, flesh still between his teeth, when Aiden groans. God. God. He shouldn't be doing that.

Aiden's hands raise, and Nigel slaps them against the wall with his own, covering him more completely with his body as he arches his hips against Aiden's; inhales the clear, sharp scent of all his young blood. He hears him mutter something- you're so fucking weird - and huffs a laugh.

"I'm something you've never seen before," he hums.

"So show me."

"Later," Nigel soothes.

"Nigel," Aiden complains, "I'm getting frickin' whiplash."

"I'm sorry, do you want my dick in you when the Chinese food delivery boy shows up? Because I don't fuckin' care, if so."

Aiden arches at the words like a spell, but he sighs. "This is all your fault."

"What, your hard on?" Nigel licks at his bare shoulder, then makes himself step back despite every desire to the contrary. He knows that's his fault and he's fucking pleased. He can smell it, a pricking on his senses. Aiden goes and deposits himself on the couch, knees drawn up. His stubble has grown in a little and he's lithe and compact. An appetizer. A fucking snack.

Nigel actually licks his lips, and then the buzzer is going and he's distracted by Aiden eating noodles with chopsticks and watching TV, offering Nigel a perfect view of his cherubic profile. Nigel just stares. Aiden catches his eye, and gives him a crooked little grin.

"Eat your dinner, Nigel."

He does as he's told. "Fine, but I'm gonna fuck the attitude out of you afterward."

"You can try...."

"And I very much fucking intend to."

He sees the shiver that Aiden tries to hide. Their eyes meet, and Aiden smiles.

"You're contrary, aren't you Nigel? If I say you're sweet, you come over all rough."

"As if you're not, pup."

Aiden shrugs. "Defense mechanism."

"Offence mechanism," Nigel shrugs back.

They keep staring, the contact heavy but necessary. Eventually, Aiden takes their leftovers to the kitchen to throw out or save. He slinks back into Nigel's side on his return.

"Thanks for dinner."

"You're welcome," Nigel says casually. Meal ticket, he reminds himself. He's not sure why the thought bothers him: he's using Aiden too. It just sticks, like a tiny thorn.

"What's up?" Aiden asks, nuzzling under his ear, the words ticklish.

Nigel laughs. "Nothing, darling. Quiet night in, eh?"

"If you say so, boss." He kisses the tattoo on Nigel's neck.

"Maybe not so quiet," he smiles.

"Oh? What did you have in mind that might get noisy?" Aiden grins. Nigel hauls him into his lap with a sigh.

"Insatiable," he mutters.

"Excuse me, I'm not the one who got his dick sucked earlier and then practically humped me against the wall before dinner."

"No," Nigel says smugly. "You aren't."

Aiden's little laugh sends a curl of warmth through him again. "Are you planning on revisiting the wall?" he asks Nigel pertly.

"Would you like to? There's a bed, too."

"Oh, I do like it there."

Nigel grips at him, kneading at his skin. "Up to you, princess. I can fuck you anywhere."

Aiden's hands tug at the hem of his shirt. "Fuck me in bed, I got leather burn off this stupid couch."

He pouts teasingly, and Nigel pinches his chin. "Poor pup."

“I know – hey!”

Aiden only kicks out a little as Nigel sweeps him up and carries him to the bedroom. His anxious little complaints about being too heavy are entirely sweet. Nigel tosses him on the bed gently to watch him bounce.

"Jesus, Nigel-" he can't seem to keep from laughing.

Nigel, unruffled, starts to unbutton his shirt, and Aiden arches to help him shrug it off before Nigel strips his own off and tosses it aside. Jeans next, both of them. Aiden wrangles his necklace off over his head and drops it on the bedside.

Nigel watches his lean stomach twist. Without mulling on the compulsion too long, he leans to bite the exposed skin of his flank where he's twisted. Aiden makes a shaky noise. His hand slides into Nigel's hair and he holds as Nigel bites again. He's not breaking the skin, but it still feels good. He slides up to kiss the side of his neck and Aiden sighs.

"Your mouth should be illegal."

"Is that so."

"It's what I said," Aiden replies.

"If my mouth were illegal," Nigel muses, "I wouldn't be able to do this." His lips press kisses over his shoulder.

"God forbid." Aiden arches up under him so their hips rub together. He makes an urgent little noise when Nigel cups his hips and rocks against him.

Nigel doesn't feel quite as urgent but he feels just as turned on. He urges him onto his stomach, covering him this way instead, humming his approval when Aiden arches, settling beneath him, curls tickling Nigel’s skin. It's almost enough for a minute, seemingly for both of them. Nigel's senses are swimming.

"Nigel," Aiden mutters then, "get naked."

He rolls off with a sigh and shoves at his shorts. It's worth it just to see Aiden sprawling on his belly to watch, propped up on his arms. He smiles impishly when Nigel takes down his boxers after dealing with his own.

"That's better," he croons. "What now, Daddy?"

The flash of heat that blinds him at the words stuns him for a moment, and Nigel finds he can slake it only by stretching himself over Aiden's long back and grinding slowly against him, teeth bared and low, intermittent rumbles escaping his throat. Aiden writhes underneath him, exceptionally warm and smooth and made of sleek muscles. Tender and supple. Nigel takes his trapezius between his teeth and rumbles a moan at the way his cock rides between his thighs.

"You like that?" Aiden whispers. "Like when I call you Daddy?"

“Fuck, Aiden-“

"I guess that's a yes- c'mon, you gonna give it to me?"

Nigel groans, hips thrusting forward again, his cock skimming over hot skin. He scrambles for lube, movements quick and urgent. When his fingers are coated he teases over Aiden's hole, mouth occupied by his smooth skin; marking it with his teeth. It's practically a compulsion, to bite; like something has taken residence inside him, crawling through his veins. Aiden slips a hand into his hair over his shoulder, arching up with his hips and moaning with the first press of one finger.

"Should have done this to you in the club," Nigel grits. "Up against the bathroom wall."

"Yes, god, yeah," he bridges back for more with a groan.

"Next time." Nigel thrusts his fingers deep, relishing the stretch he can feel. The boy is molten inside, so soft and needy, whining impatiently until Nigel adds another. It's not enough, nothing will be until he's inside of him.

"Nigel- please, please fuck me."

Nigel groans again and pulls out, slicking his cock instead, the foreskin slipping under his circling fingers. With one hand, he tugs Aiden's hips up.

"Yeah Daddy, give me your cock - oh."

Nigel thrusts in to the root with one powerful push, teeth bared. He loves the way Aiden shakes and accepts him with another little cry. He can see the tremors rising up his spine.

"Fuck," he mutters against his skin, "so tight for me."

Aiden's curls coil against the sheets as he nods wordlessly. "Yeah- more-"

Nigel leans down to kiss his back. He gives him as much force as he dares. Watches the creamy curve of his cheek for signs of pain, but Aiden just lifts his ass into his thrusts with a soft, vocal breath each time. He doesn't speak again, just moans occasionally when Nigel bottoms out. His hands are tight in the sheets though, and Nigel prefers him chatty. Nigel wraps an arm around him, pulling them both onto their sides. He fucks up into him a few more times before he reaches for his cock.

"Fuck," Aiden gasps, squirming to lift one knee against his flank. "Yeah, yeah-"

They fumble to grab on to one another and move even more closely. Nigel is half convinced he must be hurting the boy, crushing him to his chest and pounding up into him with abandon, but Aiden is hard and hot in his hand. He stutters over Nigel's name at the squeeze of his fingers.

"Please, Daddy," he breathes, "don't stop fucking me." He's lost the teasing tone, almost completely.

Nigel slows to make him mewl, pumping his cock in and out in a painstaking drag. "Yeah? You want this fucking cock? Tell me how it feels, baby."

"So full - so good -" He gulps a breath. "Please-"

"Please what?"

"Fuck me faster, please."

Nigel closes his eyes. Fuck, he can try. "Fuck me faster please, what?" He prompts.

"Daddy," Aiden groans.

Nigel rewards him by picking up the brutal pace from before, heat throbbing through him at the fractured little cries it triggers. He slips the hand on Aiden's chest up to his throat, just gripping, and keeps stroking him with the other. Aiden pushes into it shamelessly.

"Nigel- Nigel I'm gonna come- oh fuck that feels-" His voice is a heated whisper. He's drawing impossibly tight, and then he cries out in frustration when Nigel lets go of his cock. "Nigel-!"

His entire body shudders. He's still clenching. It feels too good to let him stop just yet. Nigel touches teasingly at the head of his cock, slippery with preseminal fluid.

Aiden groans. "God, don't, I need -"

"I'll tell you what you need," Nigel purrs.

Aiden makes a choked noise. He clings to one of Nigel's broad arms as he picks up his pace again. His head tips forward until Nigel gives in to the temptation and licks the pale skin under fringing curls. The shudder he gives is too much; he has to take the tender flesh between his teeth and drag it slowly.

"Nigel," Aiden begs, barely a breath of air beneath the name. He whimpers when he bites again; squirms back onto his cock with a steady slide. When Nigel strokes him again he gives another gasp.

Feeling him tighten and squeeze is sending electricity sizzling through Nigel's nerves. He's back from the edge now, still under control. Little zinging, peppered bites along Aiden's back and shoulders have him almost continually whimpering and squirming.

"Fuck- come on, Nigel."

"You know what to say," Nigel rumbles.

He takes a deep breath, then cranes his body to look at Nigel, lips bitten flush and cheeks like peach skin. "Please, Daddy," he whispers, "let me come?"

"Have you been good?" Nigel murmurs, fingers tightening.

"Yes, yeah, I have- haven't I-?"

"You have," Nigel tells him, gravel dipping low in his voice.

"Then please..."

Nigel relents, stroking him hard and snapping his hips forward. He smells it on Aiden, ricocheting up through his body as he starts to draw up tight, the dense and complex scent of his pleasure. It takes over all the rest of Nigel's senses. He feels it clamping around his cock, dripping down his fingers, and the boy's shivering need is enough to drag Nigel's orgasm out of him snarling. He presses his face into Aiden's curls and shudders until it subsides.

Everything is a slick, sordid mess, from the sounds of their flesh as Nigel rocks in a final time, to the smear of come on the sheets and Aiden's body. It's perfect. Nigel can't move. He wants to stay buried inside in the pressing heat, senses overwhelmed by Aiden, their hands locked together tightly now.

Aiden slumps bonelessly next to him, not protesting a thing. He twists his torso and presses their lips together, tongue curling against Nigel's slowly. Nigel threads a hand through his curls. Slowly, wetly, he slips from Aiden's body.

"I want that again later," he tells Nigel, with a little shiver.

Nigel just nods. He's too fucking knackered to talk. It's fucking bed time. He kisses sloppily at Aiden's ear and releases a rush of breath.

"If you wake me for sex," he warns him finally, "I better at least get some fucking oral first."

"Whatever you say, Daddy," Aiden mutters.

Nigel shudders a bit. "And you call me fucking weird."

"You continue to be," Aiden grumbles.

Pinching him only makes him sigh. Nigel handles him tighter back against his chest with a sigh of resignation.

Weird, whatever. He's had an excessively good orgasm and he's going the fuck to sleep.

Chapter Text

He dozes while he listens to Aiden get up to take another shower; come back to rouse Nigel gently for his clean up. After that, it's back to sleep, the boy's clean, damp hair under his chin, face buried in his neck. He sleeps through the night with very few moments of wakefulness - the notable exception being when Aiden blows him in the early hours as promised, though admittedly that doesn't seem to require much wakefulness on his part. Aiden seems sleepy through it too, like he just needed Nigel's body to soothe him back to rest; his hand to push into until he came with a shuddered little cry against his skin.

Nigel doesn't wake again until past noon the next day. He knows instantly that he's alone, and the warm flush chills in his chest as quick as a cloud hides the sun. Sitting up in his bed, he inhales slowly before getting out of bed to do a futile sweep of the apartment. Nothing.

He takes out a cigarette and his lighter automatically. He doesn't see the kid's bag, either. Anger, hot and clumsy, curls up into his chest.

He's honestly surprised. And at least part of the anger - no, most - is for himself. He hadn't considered the kid might skip out on him. If he weren't so focused on his morning nicotine fix, he might even be having a fucking feeling about it. Throwing himself down at the kitchen table, he throws his lighter open and closed, distracting himself with the cold metal sound.

He glares briefly in the direction of the coffee pot. He's contemplating a beer but goes for another cigarette instead. He's almost three down when the buzzer goes.

"What," he barks into the speaker when he's crossed to the receiver.

"I got breakfast," comes Aiden's voice, perky as ever.

Nigel buzzes him in, using the time it will take him to make his way upstairs to swear very, very comprehensively. He's only vaguely less sick of himself by the time Aiden lets himself in.

He's loaded down with coffees in a carrier, a brightly colored pastry box, and a few magazines. Nigel waits silently until he puts them all down, but Aiden just laughs at himself. "Guess what?" he trills.

"What?" Nigel is already grouchy, so when Aiden hands him a short stack of Euros, he feels confusion shorting a circuit in his brain.

"I got paid. That's just- for dinner and letting me stay and stuff. And for the museum."

"You got -" Nigel can't quite understand.

Aiden tilts his head. "I'm a freelance artist, payday is sporadic. I don't usually let people buy my dinner. Here-" he puts Nigel a coffee down; produces sugar and even stirring wands.

Nigel still can't speak. Aiden's brow creases.

"What's wrong? Are you mad-?"

"I thought you took off."

"Why would I take off?" The frown deepens.

"Why wouldn't you?"

"Well, you’ve definitely been fucking my brains out for the last week, and you rescued me from getting stabbed in a bar, I'm not coming up with that many reasons."

Aiden is very casual about it. Another thing that's annoying him. The kid doesn't understand.

At Nigel's silence, he puts the deli box down on the table in front of him with the money and pulls up a chair. "Let me guess. You'd thought up some way to stop thinking of me as anything other than a means for sex, and now I've done something that's ruined that." He takes a cream cake and bites into it.

Nigel tries not to look at him licking his lips. He should probably throw him out and have done with it. He can't make himself do it, he knows.

Aiden sighs and shoves the rest of the pastry into his mouth before getting up. "Fine," he says when his mouthful is gone, "I can take a hint."

Before he can get three steps, Nigel has him cornered against the counter. Automatically, Aiden's hands go up against his chest and his shoulders draw, surprisingly defensive. Nigel can smell his adrenaline. He stalls, and maybe someone else he'd grab them; maybe he'd press in and kiss them until they didn't hate him anymore. But Aiden looks defiantly ready to run and Nigel hates the scent of fear on him today, especially after the honeyed notes of his affection in their early morning tangle.

"Thought I was your sugar daddy," he murmurs, "I had it the wrong way round apparently."

"Sugar Daddy," Aiden tries to smile but he still looks nervous, "Jesus, Nigel, I'm not that devious."

Nigel shrugs uncomfortably.

"I- that's not what last night was about." Aiden turns red now. "Can you say something-? You're being really weird."

"I'm not a nice guy," Nigel mutters finally.

"Well, maybe not on paper. You seem okay though."

"If you say so."

Aiden smiles hesitantly. "It's- I can go if you want..."

"I don't," Nigel grumbles.

"Is that why you're so mad? Did you like the thought of me needing you?" Aiden's grin turns a bit naughty.

Nigel picks up a pastry and takes a moody bite. "No, of course not."

"You sure, Daddy?"

Their eyes snap back together, despite the casual tone. Nigel takes one slow, calming breath. "You have no idea how much you need me."

"No? Why do I need you?"

"Haven't I shown you things you wouldn't have found otherwise?"

"I guess you have," Aiden whispers.

"And protected you?"

"Yeah." He looks down. "But I can protect myself, too."

"You haven't seen half of it yet," Nigel grumbles. He notices the spike of bitter fear on the air again and sighs. "I'll take care of you, pup."

"I have a feeling you're the reason I need taking care of."

Nigel sips his coffee. "Come back to bed," he says simply. Aiden only loiters for an instant before he does so, bringing his own cup with him.

"I like you, you know," he says.

"You probably shouldn't."

"Too late. Daddy," he teases.

"So it seems." Nigel takes his coffee off him and sets it on the bedside with his own cup before he pulls Aiden down onto the mattress.

Aiden sighs softly. "I can't believe you thought I was using you for food. If I was a gold digger I'd probably chose someone with a car. Or a private jet."

"Good luck finding that in Bucharest, darling."

"You're missing the point."

"Am I?"

"Yes." Aiden wriggles into his arms more comfortably.

"If you say so, darling." Nigel half crushes him into the mattress with his weight, and it takes Aiden a minute before he starts to laugh into his shoulder.

"You actually thought I'd gone- and you were sad-"

"Shut up, puppy."

Aiden giggles more, gripping the waistband of Nigel's pants as he settles. Eventually, his laughter fades into soft sighs. Nigel strokes his curls.

"So what's with the fucking 'daddy' thing anyway?"

"I just thought -" Nigel waits, squeezing him gently. "It was a joke at first," Aiden whispers. His fingers brush against Nigel's bare waist. "It just seemed- I dunno, appropriate. A dirty fantasy or whatever. You didn't seem to mind."

Nigel shakes his head slowly. "No. I don't mind, fuck." He touches the boy's skin.

Aiden cranes his chin up to kiss him. "Good."

It's soothing to be touched by him. He's more deliberate than Nigel would have expected. More confident, nosing against his throat and sighing.

"Nigel, I haven't been this happy in months."

"Aiden... it's been days."

"I said what I said."

Nigel swears again, under his breath. "Aiden, darling."

He squirms under Nigel a bit now. "Don't come over all serious on me."

"No, of course not." Nigel bares his teeth in a grin.

Aiden bites his chin with another little laugh. Nigel, supremely amused, lifts his chin to let him continue.

More little bites turn into a few soft kisses. Finally Nigel dips his head to join their lips again. He feels for the boy. They're both in uncharted waters.

They twist up lazily in the sheets, Aiden's arms winding up around Nigel's neck as they fall into a more comfortable position. Keeping them in bed all day seems like a reasonable goal. Aiden's content sigh seems like agreement. Nigel kisses him slowly, over and over. They doze a while, and then Nigel finds himself nuzzled awake.

"Aiden," he murmurs.

"Yes?"

"I'm still here," he points out.

"I'm very pleased," Aiden whispers.

"You're still here," Nigel murmurs.

"You made it quite clear how you felt about me leaving."

"Don't."

"Mm, persuade me."

"Don't," Nigel breathes against his throat.

"I said persuade me."

Nigel bites back a grin and starts kissing down his chest. "You're not as sweet as you'd have me think, are you, Aiden?"

"I keep telling you. It's not my fault you don't believe me."

"I think 'Daddy' was what did it."

He feels Aiden blush. "At least something did."

Nigel nips his stomach in response. It gets him a pretty little yelp. He soothes with the flat of his tongue. Aiden sighs slowly, muscles unbunching again. Nigel breathes in. He smells so enticing.

For a brief moment, he imagines what it would be like if Aiden knew why Nigel liked to scent him. If it was normal and not a source of slightly scandalized laughter. He entertains the fantasy of Aiden's warm hands on furred flanks; guarding the boy like a goddamn dog. He would. He's ashamed of how eagerly he would. He bites his hip at the thought, just gently.

Aiden sighs again, hips shifting. "Stop teasing."

"Or what?"

"Or I beg, probably."

"Interesting."

"Nigel." Aiden is starting to pout.

He bites the very top of his thigh gently, then starts to shimmy down his shorts. He leaves more kisses along the creamy exposed skin. Aiden spreads his knees and gasps in approval when Nigel nudges them over his shoulders so he can mouth at the warm skin of Aiden's rising cock.

He takes it slow, no reason to rush through. Aiden isn't going anywhere, he knows that now. His tongue teases, up his cock and down to the soft round of his sack, and then he licks back up to suck him gently into his mouth. Aiden's hands find purchase too, one in his hair, the other flung somewhere to the side.

"Oh god- Nigel..." The tension in his body travels through his grip, but Nigel keeps his movements slow.

"Even your fucking cock is pretty," he mutters against his skin when he pulls back to kiss the insides of his shaking thighs.

Aiden laughs, fingers smoothing his hair back. "God - if you say so."

Nigel does. He swallows him down deeper now, bobbing his head and letting everything get slick and easy with the loose pass of his lips. Aiden moans, back arching.

"Nigel, that's so good. Oh. God."

Nigel strokes him with his tongue, twisting around him, Aiden's fingers petting at his cheeks. He can't stop thinking about the cauldron heat of him around his cock last night; the shaky sounds of his pleasure. He sucks him deeper before he pulls off to lick a stripe down between his cheeks.

Aiden jolts a little. "Jesus."

Jesus is right. Nigel turns his chin to close his lips over his hole and lick deep, hands pushing his thighs back.

Aiden groans when he feels the pressure. "You're fucking obsessed," he mutters. As usual, it doesn't sound much of a criticism.

Nigel doesn't argue, he just keeps going. Eventually, Aiden stops arguing too, gripping his own knees and tipping his head back with ragged, rough breaths of want as Nigel licks and presses and sucks.

He slides a finger in next to his tongue, crooking it sharply. Above him, Aiden groans. His body is wracked with fine tremors. When Nigel steers his finger upward, pushing deep and searching, Aiden's voice goes high. Nigel wonders if he could make him come just like this. He wants to try.

"Nigel," Aiden says it weakly, muscles in his belly and thighs jumping as Nigel massages the spot gently with his finger, "that's- feels really- it's a lot. Oh." Nigel sucks gently at his skin again. He watches Aiden's face as he starts to rock incrementally into the motions of Nigel's circling. "Ohh, fuck..."

"Keep moving, darling." There's a fierce tremble starting in Aiden's thighs, radiating outward like shock waves. Nigel keeps the pressure of his finger gentle. "That's it." His breath rushes in and out. "Tell me how it feels, cățeluș."

"Feels like- feels like pressure and heat and waves," Aiden mutters, too-honest in the state Nigel's got him in. "It feels like- when you listen to the ocean inside a shell."

Nigel hums, pressing harder, mouth hot against his skin.

Aiden gasps and cries out weakly. "Nigel-"

"You can take it, gorgeous."

"Nn, it's- it's so much." He's panting now, a hectic flush from his cheeks to his belly, the insides of his thighs shaking. "Oh god."

"No god. Just me and you."

Aiden isn't exceptionally hard- not as hard as Nigel's seen him- but he knows just from his urgent little pulses and rocks that he's close. He knows the feeling, knows how excruciatingly tender he must be. He's whimpering and gasping in turn, lips pale. Nigel shifts to put a hand on his chest, cool from where he's been panting.

"Okay, gorgeous. Go slower for me. Follow my breaths. Match them."

Aiden's head tosses, hair snarling, but he does as he’s told. Nigel keeps his movements steady and watches his breaths slow but his stomach muscles start to bunch. He doesn't seem to be able to speak now, sweat misting his collarbones and cheeks, eyes tight shut. He tremors so beautifully.

"I'm waiting for you, Aiden," he rumbles, soft and encouraging.

It happens gradually but all at once. Aiden's breaths shrink and suddenly he's tightening, shooting over his own stomach and crying out like he can't quite comprehend the ferocity of the feeling. Nigel stares in complete fascination. He lets himself be reeled in when Aiden grasps for him. Aiden's grip is tight and heedless of pain.

"What's up, gorgeous?" Nigel breathes. "No one ever do that to you before?"

"N-no!"

"Was it okay?"

"Jesus, Nigel, I thought I was gonna pass out."

"Did you?" Nigel smirks.

"Yeah..." Aiden buries his face in his neck, kissing the skin there. "It was so good."

"You were fucking perfect, pup."

They fall together in a smooth kiss. Nigel draws it out, feeling scent-drunk and fond. Aiden reaches down between them in wordless question, smoothing over the shape of Nigel through his underwear.

Nigel sighs. Tempting as it is to fuck Aiden to crying, he shifts him onto his side again, facing away from him, and aligns himself against his long, narrow back. With one hand hurriedly shoving his boxers down, he nudges his cock between Aiden's thighs and touches them to urge him to squeeze. It's too dry at first, but it feels good anyway. Not about to get up for lube, Nigel smears his hand through the mess of Aiden's ejaculate and strokes it onto his cock quickly.

Aiden makes a soft noise and pushes back into it. When Nigel starts to rock more purposefully between his thighs, he crosses his ankles and makes himself supple to Nigel's molding. Nigel's breath catches as he thrusts.

"That okay, Daddy?" Aiden says softly.

"Ahh. Darling, it's perfect."

Aiden twists back, his arm bracketing upward to cradle the back of Nigel's skull, letting him bury his nose under his ear and scent him as he fucks between his legs harder. He's wreathed in sweet, yielding sensations. The arm under Aiden's neck wraps tight over his chest. Nigel grips his hip with his other hand and feels heat pooling molten and blinding at the base of his cock. He growls in abandon as he snaps his hips forward and comes.

He presses two bites against Aiden's neck as he rides it out, the second harder than the first, not breaking skin but with enough force to make Aiden yelp and tense. Immediately he soothes the skin with his tongue. He's still shuddering, lingering sparks climbing his spine like stairs. Aiden's head lolls back now, his breathing a bit tight.

Nigel strokes up his taut stomach with a sigh. "Okay, gorgeous?"

"I don't know why I like it so much when you're rough with me," he whispers.

"Issues, I imagine."

"Nigel," Aiden reproaches softly.

"What, I'm fucking wrong?"

Aiden snorts. "Tactful as always."

"I'm not a counselor."

"No, you're not."

Nigel kisses his neck. "Worried?"

"About you? Nah."

"I meant about your liking it rough."

Aiden snorts again. "Should I be?"

"I don't think so, but I'm not the best person to ask."

"Because you like it too."

"Yes, gorgeous." Nigel kisses the bite marks again. It gets a little whimper from Aiden. "Mine," Nigel tells him softly.

Aiden's big green eyes move over his face, as if searching for tells. "Yours? For how long?"

"I don't know."

Wrong answer. Aiden sighs. He unbends himself from Nigel and gets up to go to the bathroom.

Nigel reaches for cigarettes. It was the honest answer, and the kid knows it. But Aiden is not a great fan of honesty. As is apparent, he prefers fantasy. No big surprise there.

Nigel ignores that he feels guilty until it becomes obvious that Aiden is not coming back to bed. Then he hauls himself up and stalks naked through his apartment. Aiden is on the couch by the open window, sulky even while he draws. Nigel slinks over and watches him. Wolves again.

Nigel sighs and gives in, folding down to sit at his feet. He hears Aiden's pencil stop; the surprise in his voice. "What are you doing?"

"Sitting here." Nigel leans against his leg and lights another cigarette.

Aiden's little noise is uncertain again. He goes back to his drawing, regardless. Nigel would murder anyone from his pack who walked in on this. He cups the muscle of Aiden's calf and inhales the scent of his warm skin, musing on how perfectly content he feels. Except for having offended Aiden, of course.

He looks up at him, studying his expression of surly petulance. It itches at him, but he doesn't confront it directly. When he kisses his knee and Aiden ignores it, it's a little harder. He'll give him time.

The minutes stretch on. Nigel feels himself starting to doze. He doesn't care. He's being allowed this contact and he'll take it. Then, the door goes, and Nigel starts.

"Who the fuck." He gets up, furious defensiveness stealing over him. Behind him, Aiden curls up small.

At the door, Nigel looks through the spy hole and sees Darko.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" He snaps through the door, in Romanian. "What have I told you about turning up uninvited?"

Darko flips off the door. "Just making sure you weren't dead, no one has seen or heard from you for two days. Well – no one but Rafe."

"Well I'm fine, so you can fuck off."

"I have to talk to you. Open up, Nigel."

Nigel glances at Aiden. With a huff, Aiden gets up and takes himself off to the bedroom. Nigel follows him for some pants.

"Oh, so this is about you being a closet case?" Aiden snipes. Nigel shoves him into the bathroom and closes the door.

"Darko isn’t a fucking homophobe, he doesn’t care about that," he hisses.

Aiden's voice is vicious through the door. "So why am I being made to hide in the goddamn bathroom?"

"Just shut up for ten fucking minutes." Nigel pulls on some boxers and goes to the door. He's going to be up shit creek when this is over. He opens up, lighting a cigarette distractedly. "What the fuck is it?"

Darko looks him up and down and shakes his head. "Where is he?"

"Who?" Nigel puts his arm against the door frame.

"You know who. You took him home from the club, and then I have fucking your fucking wife’s nephew telling me he’s seen you flouncing around fucking art galleries with him."

"I was being fucking hospitable – it doesn’t matter. He’s gone now. He's probably on a train or. Who fucking cares."

Darko doesn't even pretend he believes him. "You're so full of shit. People noticed, you know."

"And?"

"Not exactly going to be giving you children any time soon, is he?"

"I sure as hell hope not."

Darko's expression remains unimpressed. "Nigel. I explain away a lot of shit for you, but this is a little bit more than marrying someone from another fucking clan. At least Gabi was one of us."

"What's to explain?"

"You missed the hunt last night."

Nigel scowls at the reminder, then remembers what he'd been doing instead. "I did some hunting of my own."

Darko rolls his eyes. "Nigel, when are you going to fucking grow up?"

"What you want isn't growing up."

"What is it?"

The actual fucking death of all his choices, maybe. "It isn't my fucking fault that this pack's traditions are built on the words of fearmongering cunts," he snaps, "and that I happen to think they're all horseshit."

"It is your fault when it means you're risking your fucking life."

"Risking it from what? None of those runts could fucking have me."

"Individually? No. If they all turn on you..."

"Turned on me." Nigel scoffs. "They can be my fucking guest."

Darko just shakes his head. "You were fucking born for this, Nigel. Get yourself together." He comes over and touches Nigel's shoulder.

It takes Nigel everything he has not to lash out defensively. Darko doesn't deserve that. He's trying to say something they don't have words for. Not in these bodies.

Finally, he bumps Darko's shoulder with his knuckles. "Okay. I'll take care of it."

"I have your back," Darko mutters.

"And I got yours. Now fuck off."

Darko does, but not without a last glance around. He can probably fucking smell Aiden. "Don't let any of the others see him, Nigel," he says softly, "they're looking for new targets already."

Nigel swears softly. Darko pats his shoulder one more time and withdraws.

Now; to confront the angry boy in his bathroom. He's sat on the toilet lid when Nigel opens the door, knees up to his chest and his expression sullen. This was expected. He doesn't speak, just resting his chin on his knee and sighing, expression expectant.

"I regret the interruption," Nigel tells him.

"He sounded pissed."

"He always does. When it's to do with me," he admits.

Aiden nods, picking at a rogue graze on his knee- trouble Nigel hasn't been there to protect him from. "I should probably go," he mutters.

"No, I - please don't." Nigel is surprised by his own urgency. Aiden looks surprised too.

"Didn't know you knew that word."

"Don't be a little prick, I'm fucking trying here."

"Maybe you ought to explain what's going on, then," Aiden retorts.

"I can't explain."

Aiden shrugs. "Then I can't stay. I have cash now, I'll find a place and stay out of your hair."

"I don't want you to fucking go."

"I don't want to," Aiden replies.

"So don't. Just stay with me." Nigel gives him room, and waits.

"This is- I don't feel safe," Aiden says, weakly.

What can Nigel fucking say to that? "You are safe with me."

Aiden's lip twitches. "But only in the same room as you."

Nigel sighs. "So fucking stay."

"Nigel, I can't be afraid to fucking go anywhere without you." Nigel doesn't want him to. His silence must be telling, because Aiden wrinkles his nose. "Nigel..."

"I'll tell you where it's safe," Nigel sighs. Anywhere the pack isn't. Nowhere Aiden wants to be for his book.

"How about you tell me why I'm not safe?"

"Because of me. It's my fucking fault, okay?"

"Just tell me why!"

"My - family," he sighs, "would blow a fucking gasket if they knew I was fucking a boy. A stranger. A -" he sighs.

Aiden tilts his head. "Nigel," he prompts gently.

"It's just not the way. And I'm... not a good head of the family."

"Because?"

"Because I don't like rules."

Aiden snorts. "That's obvious, yeah."

Nigel sighs. "I fucking know, okay? I know what I am."

"You're an idiot," Aiden mutters.

"Yes. No fucking argument there."

"I'm an idiot too."

"No," Nigel protests.

"I am, I knew from the second I saw you that you were bad news." He doesn't sound particularly unhappy at the

thought- and obviously wasn't at the time. "I just thought you were beautiful."

It tweaks Nigel's vanity. It's not hard to do. He knows this about himself.

"I thought you were beautiful too," he says, truthfully. "Annoying, but beautiful."

Aiden snorts. "Well, now I know you're the best fuck I've ever had, too. Doesn't make you any less bad news."

"Darling." Nigel preens a bit despite himself.

Aiden just eyes him steadily. When Nigel moves closer, he doesn't stop him, or move away. He just looks tired.

 "I'm not used to being accountable to anyone," he mutters. "For where I am or what I do."

"What do you mean?"

"Just; the idea that I can't fucking leave. Nigel, this is a nice apartment but I can't be jailed here."

Taking a deep breath, Nigel adjusts his jaw, looking around. "No. You can't." He pulls Aiden to his feet.

Aiden sighs. "Now what?"

"I don't know."

"What were you going to do today. You know, before."

"Before you came back?"

"Before you knew I left, maybe."

That makes him smile a little. "Wasn't going to get out of bed so early, for one."

"We literally went back to bed and fucked for like two hours."

Nigel shrugs. "Single-minded."

"I see that."

"How do you feel about it?"

"Favorable."

"Thank god." He moves closer again, reaching out to cup Aiden's hips. He's still just in his boxers, devastatingly pretty. "Tell me how I can apologize for all of this," he murmurs.

"You can take me back to the church. The inside of it." His eyes gleam clear blue as he says it.

"Aiden," Nigel complains flatly. Aiden licks his lips. And waits. "Christ, fucking- fine. For the record, though, that was not on the list of safe places, and you're a fucking idiot."

Aiden shrugs. "Noted."

"Do we have to go right now?"

"Oh; you're in charge, babe."

"Sure as fuck seems like it," Nigel grouses.

Aiden sidles closer, presses up against his chest. "Don't be that way, Daddy."

It makes his pulse jump. God, he needs some more complex kinks. Maybe he just needs Aiden. He sinks a hand into his curls and squeezes softly. Aiden makes a quiet noise. His hips arch.

"This isn't going out at all."

"You probably shouldn't have used the buzzword to my fucking balls if you wanted to go out."

Aiden shrugs. "I like pushing your buttons."

"I can fucking tell."

"Don't you like it?"

Nigel pulls their hips flush. "Do I?"

"Feels like you do."

He noses under Nigel's chin, lips moving softly. It's too easy to be moved by him; the shivery sensation of his mouth as he kisses a path down Nigel's throat. He's deliberate about it, enticing. Nigel isn't sure he's had long enough to recover, but Aiden compelling him toward the shower is hard to argue with. He allows it. And then Aiden draws a bath instead. Interesting.

He fusses with the water for a long time. Then, he drops his shorts and gets into the tub, peering at Nigel over his shoulder. "Coming?"

Nigel nods. Yes, of course he is. He steps into the water at the opposite end of the bath and they both ease down into position. It feels good, hot and biting and sweet smelling.

Aiden draws his knees up under his chin shyly and smiles at him. "You look good wet, you know."

"So do you, gorgeous."

Yes, he moves Nigel, this boy. He's smiling wider, cheeks pink. Nigel can feel an unusual grin on his own face. He splashes water at Aiden lightly.

"Don't start unless you want a mess," Aiden says.

Nigel considers, then grabs his knees and jerks him gently so he slips under the water. When he sputters back up, he seems shocked. He sends a wave of water back at Nigel.

"You prick!"

"Oh please, you were asking for it."

Aiden laughs helplessly. "Fuck, you're the worst, do you know that?"

"Yes. I do."

"Good."

Nigel trails his fingers up his wet calf instead. Aiden gives a soft sigh at that. So Nigel does it again, a little further up.

Aiden's toes flex against his thigh. He seems to like being stroked. That's okay. Nigel can stretch to that. He'll try to keep it non-sexual. Maybe.

He soothes his hands up the boy's thighs, slow and smooth. The water eases the way. Aiden just arches to let him. He moves slowly and gracefully, like a water creature. It's difficult to look away from the water collecting on his chest; running down to his belly. Nigel doesn't really try.

Aiden reaches out to touch through his hair. His fingers tangle a bit but tug only gently. Nigel bares his teeth regardless. It's a reflex. Aiden just kisses his snarl.

Nigel hauls him into his lap with a great wave of water. Fuck his floorboards. He needs more skin. Aiden makes a little noise into his mouth as he folds his arms around Nigel's neck. So much for non sexual. Nigel has never been any fucking good at that. He doesn't sense that Aiden has much of a talent at it either. He giggles into Nigel's mouth, possibly thinking along similar lines. Nigel soothes his hands along his spine.

"Pretty."

"Am I?" Aiden preens.

"Absolutely stunning."

Aiden hums, mouth skimming Nigel's ear. "You're pretty good too."

He just breathes into Nigel's ear for a moment. At the same time, he starts to grind on the rising arc of Nigel's cock in slow circles.

He's almost too sensitive; he steers Aiden slower, kissing under his jaw. Aiden makes a soft noise but allows it.

"I never want to leave this time," he whispers to Nigel softly.

Nigel sighs against his skin. "Me neither, kid."

He tastes the thin skin of Aiden's throat. Having him squirming in his lap is its own special kind of heaven. The water tickles his ribs. Everything is steamy and damp and close. He's losing track of anything that's not Aiden. Taste, smell, feel.

"Nigel," Aiden whispers, "are you okay?"

"I can be... possessive..." Nigel mutters.

Aiden's little smile turns wary. "That's okay," he hums. "As long as you're not planning to keep me here forever."

Unsure what to say, Nigel leans in for a kiss.

Aiden leans back though, eyes big. "Nigel."

"What? I'm not."

"Good."

Nigel kisses him while he has the chance. He likes feeling his smile against his lips. Enough to keep his secrets longer.

Eventually Aiden sighs and settles with his face buried in the crook of his neck. Nigel takes the weight gladly. "Fucking gorgeous," he mutters, stroking up his spine.

"This feels good."

"It does."

They breathe together for a minute or two. Then, Aiden kisses his neck and hums.

"I'm hungry."

"Okay. Okay, sure." There are more pastries, or he'll take the boy out.

Aiden takes his hands and kisses his palms, then slides out of his lap to climb out of the bath. Nigel sighs and sinks back in the water for a moment. He's momentarily aware of how out of control all this has gotten. No - he's always been aware of that. Now he's just conscious of it. And helpless against it.

He sighs and pulls the plug out of the bath. It was nice, but it's over now. Like so many things, he's afraid. "Get a grip," he mutters to himself. "Get a grip, stop making bad decisions." Easier said than done.

Aiden is stood in the kitchen eating a Danish when he finds him. He's dressed, damp hair curling around his cheeks.

"Why don't you have anything in except beer?"

"I don't cook. I go out."

"Why not?"

Nigel shrugs.

"You should cook," Aiden says dubiously, "it's rewarding."

Nigel shrugs. "So is eating out."

A sigh. Nigel shrugs and lights up. Aiden sits on the edge of the kitchen side and picks the pastry apart. "I could teach you."

"To cook?" Nigel frowns.

"I don't know much, but enough."

The thought makes Nigel pleasurably uncomfortable in a way he can't quite name. Except - Aiden. It feels like Aiden. "What do you want to cook? I have maybe three pans."

"Lemme look in the fridge." Aiden hops off the counter and raises his eyebrows in a grin, but seems thoroughly unimpressed by the contents. "Yeah. This may not work. Is there a market nearby?"

"Sure." Amused, Nigel watches him tear back to the bedroom and start to pull his jacket on.

"Want to come? I can go on my own."

Nigel sighs. "I need smokes anyway." And he can keep an eye on him that way. He doesn't want to make it a thing.

He goes to join Aiden to get dressed, pulls on an old button down and locates his khakis. Aiden goes up on his toes to kiss him at the door as they head out.

Nigel wraps an arm around his waist. It's magnetic, watching him skip and turn as they walk. He slides down the banister to the hallway, snickering when he flubs the landing. Nigel can't find him irritating anymore. Instead he trails after like they were actually magnetized, seeking a connection. When Aiden whirls back to him and kisses him again just before they go outside, he can't help but smile.

The store is less than a block away, so it's not a long walk. Aiden gets a basket and chooses what he wants, only occasionally faltering to ask Nigel about the translation. Hearing him carefully repeat the Romanian is charming. The shopkeeper - who admittedly mostly knows Nigel from cigarette purchases - seems amused.

"Very good," he says to Aiden in English, and Aiden flushes deeply. Nigel snorts behind his hand. Too cute, honestly. Cute is not a word Nigel typically has in his vocabulary, no matter which language.

"Don't laugh at me," Aiden complains as they leave. Nigel just hefts the bag and smirks.

Back at the apartment, Aiden spreads his wares on the counter to take stock. "Okay. This is gonna be great."

"What shall I do?" Nigel asks solemnly.

"Fill a pot with water and boil it."

"Will I need to use my degree for this task?"

Aiden raises his eyebrow. "Do you have one?"

"Yes, darling. I can probably take on a little more than that."

"What is it in?" Aiden is suddenly attentive, blue eyes bright,

Nigel bristles a bit. "Business communications. I speak four languages."

Aiden whistles. "Look at you, that's great."

"Try not to look so surprised."

"I'm not. Your English is perfect, for one thing."

"Yes," Nigel says, somewhat curtly, "because every fucking person in the world who doesn't already speak it has to learn."

Aiden makes a face, but doesn't argue it. "Okay. You can peel the potatoes too."

"Like in prison," Nigel says dryly.

Aiden peers at him, eyes going big.

"What do you think I use my languages for, kid?"

Aiden frowns. "This seems like a trick question."

"All right." Nigel smirks and fills the kettle with water. He wants to watch him squirm a little.

Aiden is grating cheese, frowning in thought. "I just don't know," he says finally. "I don't know what about you is true and what's a lie and what's just something I don't understand."

Unsure whether or not to be offended, Nigel tilts his head. "Both the university and the prison thing are true."

"Okay. That covers some of it."

"Happy to oblige you most other truths."

"What do you use your languages for, Nigel?"

Nigel debates, then sighs. "My... family is from all over Europe," he starts.

"Right."

"I'm the head of the family. It's important."

"So you... gather your family?"

"I organize us."

"Keep everyone in line?"

"I try."

Aiden sets the cheese aside and starts slicing potatoes. "And the family business?"

Nigel thinks. "I organize that too."

"This is like talking to a fucking politician."

"Yes, and it should be."

"Why's that?"

"You think it's easy keeping hundreds of hotheads from each others' throats?"

"Not knowing just one, no."

"Well, you'd be right."

Aiden is frowning in thought still. He arranges the potato slices in a skillet full of butter. "So you run like. A crime syndicate?"

Nigel takes a breath, and then shrugs. "You could say that."

"Huh. Sounds exciting."

"Frustrating." Nigel needs to change the topic somehow. "What're we making anyway, gorgeous?"

"Beef hash with potatoes and vegetables."

"Sounds good."

"It should be." Aiden shrugs cheerfully. They exchange small smiles. Aiden goes back to the food, narrating each step.

Soon, the kitchen is filled with the scent of cooking. Nigel wonders if that's happened since Gabi. No... he knows it hasn't. Jesus. That's a terrifying thought. He has to walk away just to get the chill of it off his skin.

When he's smoked a cigarette and gathered himself, Aiden is sitting on the counter playing on his phone.

"Won't be long," he says cheerfully. "Want to stir?"

"Sure, pup." He carefully takes over, watching Aiden watch him. "Where’s your dad?" he asks, unusually soft.

It still takes a moment to get an answer. "I don’t know. Hopefully far enough behind me that we might never see each other again."

"I hope you don't either."

"Unfortunately I can't stay in Europe forever."

"Why not?"

"Can't get a visa with fake papers, and it all costs money. Which depends on how well my next book does."

That's interesting. Nigel peers at him, willing him to elaborate.

Aiden meets his eyes in a flash. "I have a warrant out for my arrest in the States," he says, faintly.

Somehow, Nigel doesn't have it in him to be surprised. "For what, exactly?"

"I finally had enough of my old man beating on me, and gave him a taste of his own medicine. He filed a police report."

Nigel's lip curls. "Your dad a little fucking bitch or something? Taught you to fight but not him?"

"That sums it up."

"Cocksucker," Nigel spits. He feels horribly protective.

"No, that was me. Half the problem, most likely."

"He doesn't deserve you."

Aiden just shakes his head. "Guess not." He sounds resigned. Unbidden, he curls into Nigel, and Nigel clasps him tight to his side, kisses his tousled hair. Aiden seems more bashful than usual, hiding his face in his shoulder for a while.

"Seems even more reason to stay," Nigel says absently.

He feels the shrug that follows. "Wanna see some other places."

"Such as?"

"Mm- lots of places. Italy, Croatia. Budapest."

"How shaky is your paperwork situation, then?"

"I have a pretty good guy, I've never been stopped."

Nigel hums. "That's good." He's already thinking of problems and solutions, though. He keeps stirring as he mulls it over. "There are lots of ways to get the papers you need."

"Like what?"

"I have a pretty good guy too."

Aiden glances up at him. "Do you."

"I do."

Aiden doesn't do much, just takes the spoon back. Nigel checks the time: late enough for beer now. He doesn't know where he's going with that anyway. Or exactly what he'll do if Aiden were to stay longer- this isn't exactly convenient. For either of them. But it's only dangerous for one.

Draining half his beer in one before he offers Aiden the other, Nigel moves to the kitchen windows. Behind him, he can hear Aiden mixing and kneading- something with flour and cheese. Watching his mum cook was never like this. Watching Gabi cook wasn't either. He just can't get enough of this boy.

"What're you making?"

"Biscuits," Aiden shrugs. He concentrates on shaping his dough and then grabs a knife to cut it. Nigel can't quite understand why it makes him feel so warm. He sips the second half of his beer and considers. "What're you thinking?" Aiden asks.

"Just... considering your cooking skills."

"I used to cook for my dad."

Nigel's lip curls a bit.

Aiden catches his eye and grins. "Now I'm cooking for my daddy."

He's clearly looking for a reaction. Shaking his head, Nigel looks out of the window. He's certainly inclined to give him one. But maybe not until they've eaten.

"You've got issues."

Aiden laughs merrily. "Don't we all."

"Sure fucking do." He finally winds back around the counter to kiss Aiden gently.

This time, Aiden draws it out. His fingers are soft on Nigel's jaw. It's sweet on both their parts. Nigel only draws away when he hears something sizzling.

"Time to add the meat," Aiden says cheerfully from behind him. He grins at Nigel's eye roll and bumps their hips together as he sidles by. "Hungry?"

"Yes," Nigel grumbles.

"Good." He's humming now, scraping chopped steak into the sizzling butter.

Nigel gets out another beer and sits on the breakfast bar stool. "So what're you doing now?"

"Meat. Then veggies. When the biscuits are done, we'll be ready to eat."

"Want me to do anything?"

"What you're doing is fine. Keep stirring, too."

"Okay." He sips his beer. "What will you be doing?"

"I'll be right here. Keeping an eye."

Nigel snorts softly. "Sure, gorgeous."

Aiden grins and jumps up onto the counter again. Nigel touches his knee gently. He strokes idly with his fingers over the denim. Aiden shifts, sipping his beer contentedly. It feels quiet and nonconfrontational. His cheek against Nigel's cheek is warm. Aiden sighs with a small gust and Nigel strokes his hair. They stay like that for a long time, until the oven timer goes and Aiden lurches back into motion.

Nigel keeps stirring idly. Aiden gets the biscuits out of the oven - they look like scones to Nigel - and starts getting out plates.

"You can put that in a bowl," he tells Nigel.

"Seems pointless when we have plates..."

Aiden rolls his eyes and sets them both out on the counter. "Sure, go for it."

Nigel frowns and serves two platefuls. Aiden stacks the biscuits into a basket and takes them to the table. He gets salt and pepper and another beer for both of them, and then they sit down.

The last home-cooked meal eaten at this table was definitely Gabi's doing. So strange. It's good, too. Warming, simple yet complex for the weight behind it. Nigel has to reluctantly admit that he's happy right now. It's an almost foreign feeling. Strange and itchy.

He bounces his knee at the thought. Aiden nudges his ankle with a toe.

"Okay there, boss?"

"Oh, fine. Enjoying your food."

"I'm glad." He butters a biscuit and bites in with a flash of his small white teeth.

"Thanks for dinner, gorgeous," Nigel says.

"I'll be better prepared next time," Aiden says.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean to really impress you." He grins.

"You fucking do," Nigel says simply.

The smile goes a bit lopsided but doesn't go away. "Prove it," he purrs.

Nigel raises a brow. "After dinner I will."

The corners of Aiden's mouth curl up. "Good," he says simply. He sounds smug. It's terrible how attractive it makes him. Nigel licks his teeth and takes a swig of his beer.

"So what's for breakfast?" he grins.

"What do you like?"

"Coffee and cigarettes, usually." He hums at his beer and adds, softly, "perhaps you."

Aiden licks his lips. "Oh?"

"Any arguments?" Nigel purrs.

"None whatsoever."

Nigel smiles. "Glad to fucking hear it, angel."

"When's bedtime?" Aiden shoots back.

"Whenever you want."

"How do you feel about dishes in the sink?"

"Fucking fine, darling."

"Oh, well. Then I think I'm pretty tired." He feigns a yawn.

Nigel huffs amusement. "What about dessert?" Aiden is all the dessert he could ever want.

Aiden raises his eyebrows like he knows. Nigel just has to get his hands on him.

He behaves himself until Aiden has finished dinner and they're getting cleaned up for bed. Then he pounces. Aiden seems ready for it, because he wrestles Nigel with intent, angling on top of him where they land on the bed, sputtering when Nigel flips them over. It's cute that he tries.

"Nigel," he complains, shoving up against him, "why are you such a control freak?"

"It's just the way I am," Nigel sighs.

"I mean I don't hate it but- we could switch it up a little."

"What would you like, gorgeous?"

Aiden squirms a bit. "Well, I could fuck you, if you wanted." Nigel narrows his eyes, and Aiden sags immediately. "We- it doesn't matter, don't worry."

He looks contrite. They're both quiet. Aiden fidgets, then touches Nigel's jaw, tugging him down into a kiss.

"It doesn't matter. Kiss me."

That, he can do. Even so, it seems to have made them both a little thoughtful; distracted. Aiden's skin still feels like silk under his hands. He squirms under the touch, brows drawn with sensation.

"My sweet boy," Nigel tells him.

"What? I'm not."

"You only think so. You taste especially sweet. You smell sweet. You feel sweet."

Aiden turns pink like he doesn't know what to say. "Nigel... please."

"Please what, gorgeous?"

"Don't be nice to me, I don't know if I can handle it."

Nigel pauses, stroking his jaw and cheek with one gentle finger. "But you deserve it."

Aiden's eyes slip closed. Nigel folds him up tight in his arms to quiet him, feeling tender toward him. He noses under his chin to quiet himself.

"So do you wanna talk about it?" Aiden asks.

Nigel breathes in. He smells nervous. "We can talk about it."

"Okay. Why don't you tell me what's up?"

Nigel exhales and inhales again. He thinks about how to explain that nearly four decades of homophobia is hard to shake. Not to mention his... other instincts.

Aiden pulls back to look at him and frowns. "Take your time, I guess."

He waits, and eventually Nigel sighs. "There's just - a way I've always done things. And never a reason to change them."

"Maybe you need one."

Maybe he does.

"You never done it before?" Aiden sounds curious rather than judgmental.

Nigel slowly shakes his head.

"Okay." He settles his cheek back against Nigel's shoulder. "We can try. Or not."

Nigel shrugs gently. "I'll think about it." He turns his head to breathe in the scent of Aiden's curls. He seems content at that. Nigel kisses his temple. He's a good boy. Nigel is feeling fond.

"Like it here," Aiden says quietly.

"My flat?"

"Your arms, asshole."

"Oh," Nigel says quietly. He feels that under his skin. He's itchy to shift; to be himself. He can't. Aiden would be so much more, with those senses. He practically growls at the thought.

Aiden snuggles closer when he feels the inhale. "When c'n we go to the church?"

"Tomorrow," Nigel sighs.

"Tsh," Aiden nips him, "typical."

Nigel nips him back. "You'd rather go to some freezing church than stay in bed?"

"It was pretty, the other night."

"You're pretty."

Aiden snorts. "So what are you gonna do about it?"

"What would you like me to do about it?"

Aiden grumbles and stretches, pressing their bodies together in an arc of tension.

"Ah," Nigel says. "That?" he confirms, just to be a pain.

Aiden huffs. "I'm feeling like I need you, Nigel, and you're depriving me."

"Ah, we can't have that."

"So fix it." He arches again.

Nigel slides his hands down to grip his ass and grind. Aiden moans softly, going boneless. Well, almost. Certain parts of him are definitely aroused.

Nigel nuzzles into his neck and bites at his skin. His next moan gets louder. "You like that?"

"God, Nigel. Yeah."

"Tell me what else you like."

"Anything you do, you bastard."

"That's very vague."

"No it's not. Be creative."

"Be creative, hm?" He nips again.

Aiden whines. "That's not creative enough."

Nigel sighs exaggeratedly and then sits up, pulling Aiden's sleep shirt off and flipping him onto his belly to settle over him slowly.

"Yeah, Daddy," Aiden mumbles.

Nigel strokes down his back as he leans to bite at the crest of his shoulders. He rubs low on his hips, before thumbing his shorts down under his cheeks and teasing his fingers between them very slowly.

"Oh god, more," he slurs into the sheets.

"You'll get what you're given," Nigel tells him, biting harder at the back of his neck, unable to resist. He feels Aiden's hips circling against the mattress. He's arching for his fingers, whimpering when Nigel presses over his hole with the tip of one and rubs. "You really like this that much?" Nigel murmurs.

"I really do." He peers at Nigel over his shoulder, cheeks flushed. "It feels good but it's- it's so intimate too, having you inside me."

"I want to be there."

Aiden arches again, gasping softly. "So get there, Daddy."

"My boy," he groans. Aiden shivers under his hands.

Nigel doesn't want to push himself away. He makes himself stretch for lube, reluctantly. Then he spends several minutes layering kisses up and down Aiden's spine in penance. Feeling him gasp and squirm is the most exquisite torture- for them both, he imagines. He hopes so.

"Nigel," Aiden pleads quietly, "let me touch you or- touch me or something-"

Nigel shushes him and clicks open the bottle. He looks at Aiden's shorts around his thigh and, in a moment of self indulgence, grips them in both hands and pulls until they shred. Aiden shudders.

"God, Nigel-"

"I'll buy you more."

"I can afford my own."

"I want you in mine," Nigel growls softly. He leans down to bite him and Aiden leans toward him like a moth to a flame.

"So give me ones you've worn," he breathes. "Yours. All of it."

Nigel lets his teeth scrape his spine. It's too tempting. Then he slowly presses into him. Soft and pliant, Aiden arches his hips up and sighs.

"Does that feel as right to you?"

"How right does it feel to you?" Aiden shoots back, voice a little trembly.

"Not as much as it will soon." He twists his finger and slides in the second smoothly, turning and opening his fingers with gentle, steady pressure. To hear Aiden keen, he leans down and nips at the swell of his ass.

"Ah-" he squirms his hips back, taking Nigel's fingers deeper with a whine.

The heat of him is consuming. Nigel bites again, harder. Aiden moans his name.

"Please-"

Nigel can't resist any longer. He slides his third finger in deep and fucks him open in quick, impatient movements. Aiden does nothing to resist, just moans and clutches the sheets. His body draws Nigel in greedily and it's too much for Nigel to resist too. He pulls back, wipes his hands and shoves down his shorts. Another squeeze of slick and he's pushing home with his cock, teeth bared.

Aiden cries out like it hurts; like he loves it. He grabs back at Nigel's hair over his shoulder when he settles his knuckles into the mattress under his shoulders.

"I need you like this," Nigel tells him breathlessly.

"And I need you, Nigel." He drools it into the pillow. When Nigel grips his hips and lifts him into his thrusts, Aiden moans long and helpless.

"Good," Nigel praises.

"Fuck, more-"

Nigel kisses his shoulder. He fucks faster, the sound of their skin slapping loud in the quiet of the bedroom, a snare drum to their breaths and moans. It runs through him like a current. Aiden feels hot and tight and needy, bridging back when he can, breaths heavy. Nigel keeps up a steady stream of growling praise.

"Oh fuck," Aiden gasps, gripping the sheets in both hands, "Nigel, God."

"My boy," Nigel pants.

"Yeah- yours- fuck, god you're so deep. Want more."

"How am I supposed to give you more, darling?"

"Don't know," Aiden breathes.

Nigel kisses his shoulder, then shifts him gently, patting his side. "Move, love. Get on top of me."

Aiden scrambles, face flushed brilliant red. It's only seconds before Nigel is sat against the headboard and Aiden is lowering himself back onto his cock with a gasp. Nigel wraps a hand around him.

"Oh god," Aiden breathes.

Nigel strokes him with a harsh grip, hair falling over his face. Aiden starts to ride himself on his cock with a few harsh moans, fingers pressing on Nigel's chest, gripping at flesh. Nigel drives up into him again and again. He can't stop watching the flickers of Aiden's face through his hair. Blush like a wine stain, little white teeth bared with his pleasure. He looks like an angel. He's making soft, urgent noises, bridging his back and leaking with his neediness.

"Baby, kiss me," Nigel tells him.

Aiden does automatically, his urgent little hums vibrating their lips. He clutches at Nigel's shoulders and rocks. Feeling him squeezing around Nigel's cock is nearly too much. He strokes him faster to hear him moan, pushing up into him hard. He licks at the seam of his lips. It makes his jaw slack immediately.

Nigel thrusts with his tongue in time with his hips. Aiden squeezes around him and Nigel feels hot come spurt against his chest and belly. His quick trigger boy, god.

"Aiden-"

"Sorry sorry sorry," Aiden slurs weakly, "just so good in me-"

"Don't apologize, gorgeous." He grips his hips and tugs so he's rolling down into the snaps of his hips. Aiden moans but helps move himself. His little pleas and whines are delicious. "What's that?" Nigel murmurs.

Aiden bites his lip, then grips gently at Nigel's shoulders and sighs into his mouth. "Please come in me, Daddy."

"Baby," Nigel sighs. "In just a minute, baby."

Aiden whines. It's motivation enough to speed up. He grips Aiden's curls and seals their mouths. It won't be long.

It feels like a crack of static electricity, when it comes. He holds Aiden down; feels the liquid heat of it and the way Aiden tightens with sensitivity. They both gasp into one another's mouths. Aiden is shivery all over and Nigel holds him close. He's obsessed with the scent of him like this, satisfied and radiating affection and trust. Mine, he thinks again. What a disaster.

"What am I going to do with you?" he murmurs.

"Anything you like, Daddy," he slurs.

Nigel huffs with pleasure, hips stirring again so that Aiden whines. His kisses turn lazy. When he slides off Nigel, they both wince a little at the aftermath.

Aiden lets Nigel gather him back into his arms, kissing gently along his shoulder. "I'm not in good enough shape for this much sex," Aiden comments sleepily.

"You seem to be doing all right."

Aiden snorts softly. "I'll survive."

"I hope so." Nigel inhales softly at the thin skin of his temple.

"Are you okay?" Aiden whispers.

"I'm perfect, baby, just perfect."

"You're pretty close," Aiden agrees. He grins as he says it. Nigel chuckles.

"We'll go to the church tomorrow."

He can't see Aiden's expression to see if he looks smug. He'd put money on it, though. He doesn't even care.

"Where are you going after this?" he asks.

Aiden shrugs. "Germany, maybe. The Czech Republic. Not sure," he mumbles. "Why, want to come with me?"

"Maybe."

Aiden smiles softly. "You can do that. You look like you could use a vacation."

God, it sounds good. Nigel thinks about it. Darko will go fucking mental. Maybe... maybe after the summer hunt. He only has to keep Aiden out of trouble for another week or two, that way. Get it out of his system, and then- and then come back here, settle down. One last fling. Yeah, he can work with that.

He strokes Aiden's hair slowly. "Let's do it," he murmurs. "Take a holiday."

"Yeah? I think it'd be really fun," Aiden says softly.

"I have a few things to take care of first, but I'm all yours after the twelfth," Nigel tells him.

"Good job I extended my rail pass."

"Isn't it though."

Aiden grins and kisses him soundly. "Can I take a shower before bed?"

"Be my guest, baby."

"Come with me," Aiden purrs, and Nigel doesn't resist. He doesn't think he could.

Nigel doesn't resist Aiden in the morning either, even when on the windowsill his phone buzzes repeatedly. He's been ignoring it all morning.

"You ought to get that," Aiden says, voice indistinct around a pencil he's got in his mouth. He's leaning out of bed and digging through his omnipresent satchel.

Curling his lip, Nigel does, lifting it to his ear with a sigh. "What?"

"About fucking time," Darko sighs.

Nigel ignores him. "What do you want? I'm busy."

"There's a lot to fucking deal with, as usual."

"Like fucking what, Darko?"

"The kids are restless. You're meant to keep them in line, Nigel."

"They know what fucking happens if they don't." He itches the back of his neck. "Give me a couple of fucking hours okay? I'm wrapped up in something." Darko makes a rude noise. "Don't be a bitch, Darko."

Not the way to talk to his second in command, but he's fucking had it, hasn't he?

There's a stony silence, in which Aiden chimes in, “I’m making coffee, you want some?" and Nigel screws his eyes up against the inevitable onslaught.

"Tell me that's not the kid."

"And what if it is?"

Darko swears. "I can deal with you having your head up your ass because you think the alpha duties are fucking outdated. I can't deal with you getting your dick twisted over some fucking human."

"And what the fuck concern is it of yours?"

"It is plenty of my fucking concern."

"Why, Darko?"

"Because I'm trying to keep these assholes from turning on you while you do everything you can to convince them you've gone soft," Darko hisses.

"Well, they won't need convincing if you keep your fucking cocksucker mouth shut, will they?"

"Someone else will notice soon."

"And what fucking business is it of theirs?"

This time he doesn't answer. There's a terse silence, and Nigel takes a frustrated sup on his smoke.

"It's all fucking bullshit anyway," he mutters.

"It's the way things have always been, Nigel."

"Yes, and fucking look at us, dwindling every year and scuttling around in the fucking shadows like stray dogs." Nigel shoots a glance at Aiden, who's at least pretending to draw and not to listen.

"Fucking some kid on an inter-railing trip isn't going to help."

"It's helping me just fine."

A heavy sigh from the other end of the phone. "Brother," Darko murmurs.

Nigel regards the empty living room with a deep-set frown. "I didn't want this bullshit, Darko."

"I know." It's not Darko's fault. He thinks Nigel's shit for the job, too. He just wishes he'd stop reminding him. "Just tell me you'll be here soon, Nigel."

Nigel looks over at where Aiden's sprawled on his stomach on the bed, unbuttoned jeans hitched halfway down his ass as he scribbles away. "Soon. Ish."

Another sigh. Darko swears under his breath and hangs up. Nigel tosses his phone at a chair.

"Does Romanian always sound so furious, or were you just furious?"

"Both," Nigel replies. “Why didn’t you keep quiet?”

“Because I wanted to know if you wanted coffee.”

“Bullshit, Aiden.” Pinching the bridge of his nose fiercely, Nigel rakes through his hair and shakes his hand out to expel his excess energy.

Aiden looks suddenly worried, which is sweet. "I’m sorry… Come here?" he says, holding his arms out.

Nigel forces down his frustration and does so. He's immediately drawn into warm arms, Aiden's fingers stroking through his hair. He's altogether more agreeable when he's slept and eaten.

Nigel's hands find his waist, his drooping jeans. "You're entirely too fucking tempting, kid."

"Not sorry." He strokes Nigel's cheek. "What's going on?"

"Nothing you need to worry about, pup." Aiden looks skeptical but for once, he doesn't push. Nigel distracts him the best way he knows how. And later today, more architecture will hopefully finish the job.

Chapter Text

The church is a lot more spectacular when Aiden is allowed in it. Though, the thrill is gone. It's different now- Nigel is with him, and he's a thrill all of his own.

Especially the way Nigel watches him - constantly hungry. It makes Aiden feel the same. He sighs at the thought: he's quite sore enough today. Doesn't seem to matter though, to him or Nigel. He's unsurprised by Nigel's small roughnesses, now, like he's never had to be gentle in his life. When he manages it, it usually surprises them both.

Now, for example, when he takes Aiden's hand as they go up the steps to the altar. The church is in disarray, abandoned and vandalized in places, but it's glorious with it. Aiden looks up at the ivy growing through the broken clerestory windows and sways gently. There's a wind whirling dry leaves on the floor, and they crinkle around his ankles where he's stood in a pool of sunlight.

"The forest is taking it back."

"Perhaps one day the wolves will too."

Aiden glances up at Nigel. He sounds pretty casual about that. "Perhaps." He smiles. "What do you think they'd do with it?"

"What do you think, Aiden?"

"Make a den in the chapel," he muses, straying over the cracked tile floor, seeing it behind his eyes. He should get out his sketchbook. "Use it as a secret place."

"Safe," Nigel murmurs.

Aiden turns to him and smiles. "From who?"

"The rest of the world, who wishes to hunt them."

"Perhaps they should be the ones doing the hunting."

Nigel snorts. "They likely agree."

They exchange a grin. Nigel squeezes his hand. He looks gorgeous in the light, deadly and chiseled with an incongruously patterned shirt on. He makes Aiden's chest tight, honestly. He pats Aiden's shoulder gently.

"I'm going to have a smoke. You gonna draw?"

Aiden nods, already halfway into his mindset. He sits down on a pew and watches Nigel gracefully swing up onto one of the stone facings where a statue might once have stood flanking the altar. God, he looks like art. It's unfair. He's inspiring in almost every way. He seems not to understand just how much.

Aiden sighs to himself at the thought and goes back to his tablet. He's never had much trouble finding company, it's true. But this is different. He's never met anyone remotely like Nigel. Snarling and vicious one moment, smooth and sweet the next. He would have expected to find it off-putting.

Sometimes it is- when he's scared Aiden a couple of times, but Aiden senses he'd know if Nigel truly wanted to hurt him. The rest of the time, he doesn't mind. Little hurts can come with their own satisfactions. It makes him think of Nigel's teeth. The way he buries his nose in Aiden's hair before he bites him. Strangely ritualistic behavior. Animalistic.

Aiden looks up at the battered glass windows, filled with snarling grey wolves. He thinks of the other church, the little jewel box of a chapel, the warmth and sadness on Nigel's face when they'd left. Two buildings, so similar and yet completely different. Then he shakes his head.

Get your head out of the clouds, boy, he hears his father say. It makes his lip curl automatically. It makes him want to daydream all the more viciously. He draws until the sound fades from his ears.

When he becomes aware of external noise, it's because Nigel is settling down by his feet. Aiden touches idly at his hair. He hears him grumble something about being bored over there, but he doesn't make any move to distract Aiden. Nigel just likes to complain. Or make excuses. His patience is more extensive than that.

"I won't be long," Aiden says softly, regardless.

"All right, gorgeous. Take your time. No one here but the dead."

Aiden thinks about that, and gives Nigel's hair a gentle little tug. "Whose dead?"

"Who even knows? The graves have no markers anymore."

"It's a little sad, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is."

They both sigh. Aiden leans down to kiss him lightly. "Thanks for bringing me."

"I'm a man of my fucking word, aren't I?" Nigel says without heat.

"Of course. You're kinder than you intend to be, I think."

Nigel shrugs. "Or I never had the opportunity until now."

"Maybe," Aiden agrees. The fucking mob doesn't seem to have given Nigel an excess of manners. Listening to him all but growling at his friend Darko in Romanian had been damn near terrifying. He's still not sure what had been happening there. He suspects it has something to do with him. Nigel would never admit it. So Aiden doesn't ask, he just draws a while longer and then he gets up to take some pictures.

Nigel gets up too, trailing him with a cigarette. Aiden snaps a shot of him with a grin. Nigel just smirks and keeps smoking, clearly secure in his good looks. He takes a deep drag and blows smoke at the camera lens.

Aiden takes a picture of that too, then grabs the front of his stupid shirt and pulls him in. That makes Nigel grin.

"Hi gorgeous."

Deprived of attention for a really long time, clearly. "Hey, Daddy."

Nigel chuckles. "You're the cutest thing I've ever seen, baby." It makes Aiden grin despite himself. "Are we done here?" Nigel asks next.

"Yeah I think so."

He doesn't really want to leave, though. He likes it here. He looks around again.

"I could live in here, probably."

"Shall we?" Nigel smiles.

"Yes, we'll put the bed right over there. Should avoid the roof leaks well enough."

"I'll patch them for you."

"Will you?" Aiden beams.

"Absolutely."

What a fantasy. He wants to draw it. He wishes they could camp in here or something. He thinks Nigel can see it on his face.

"Come on pup. We can come back whenever you want."

That's a turnaround from last time. Aiden follows him with a shy smile. Nigel always keeps things interesting.

"What now?" he asks.

Aiden scuffs his foot. "Whatever you want."

"Coffee and a smoke," Nigel says. "I know a cafe."

"Okay." Aiden follows him. He wants to hold his hand again, so he reaches.

Nigel lets him, but he looks around. Aiden is only beginning to sense the depths of his discomfort. He wishes there were a way he could alleviate it, but he's afraid the answer is not without changing his whole worldview. Sighing, he kisses Nigel's hand and lets him withdraw it. God, he's really got it bad.

He thinks it might be mutual. He thinks neither of them know how to handle it.

They get lunch; drink a few beers in the sun. There's plenty to see, and they mooch around the city a while longer before the sun starts to set and with it, rain laden clouds lower toward the horizon. Aiden shivers despite himself.

"Let's get back," Nigel says, but the rain is already spotting the streets. They have to run for it.

It's a redundant effort; they're soaking in minutes, and Aiden catches sight of Nigel's wilted cigarette and can't help but laugh. Nigel swats at him and tosses it into a nearby bin.

Aiden dodges the swat, and when Nigel moves to catch up to him he stumbles off the curb and into a deep puddle. There's a beat of silence, and then Aiden sniggers loudly.

"Smooth."

Fingers clamp around his wrist and Nigel drags him in with him. Still snickering, Aiden kicks water at him- though it's raining hard enough now that in a few minutes it really won't matter. Nigel tugs him close for a moment before seeming to remember they're on the street. Aiden swallows the knot of hurt in his throat and tries not to take it personally.

"Nigel," he mutters.

"Yeah." He's leading him back to the sidewalk, the cobbles glistening in the rain.

"It would be nice if you at least wanted me all the time."

That makes him stop dead, and Aiden balks a bit as he walks into the back of him. When Nigel turns, his eyes are dark, hair dripping in pale strands in front of them. A few cars roll past, headlights splashing him acid yellow for an instant, but the rain has driven most people inside.

"I do want you all the time," he tells him, voice low.

"Well, it doesn't -" he falters at the strength of the gaze he's submitted to.

Nigel touches his face. "Would that convince you?" He asks. "If I were willing to put us both in danger to show you?"

"I just don't see where danger comes into it," Aiden says. "It's the twenty-first century, Nigel."

Nigel stares at him again, and Aiden feels stupid and naive. "Maybe in some places," he says finally. "My people have barely come in out of the woods."

"Your people."

Nigel doesn't clarify. Aiden feels frustration creeping in. He's sick of secrets. He pulls away, flicking rain from his eyes and making a beeline back toward Nigel's apartment.

He can feel Nigel following him, but doesn't turn around. Surliness steals over him like a fog. He grits his teeth.

"Aiden," Nigel says, and Aiden ignores it. Nigel will charm him out of his mood yet again if he lets him. He hears him again but they're almost back now. He's freezing cold and miserable. At the door to Nigel's building, he hugs himself and waits for him to catch up. Maybe he should have used that money for a hotel after all.

Nigel looks furious, but contained, pressing in the code to let them in with a sigh. He leads them upstairs. Aiden stands in the entryway when Nigel points him there after he's closed them inside the flat. Shit, he just has no idea what he's doing about eighty percent of the time.

He watches him go; waits until he comes back with a towel. "Get undressed," he says gruffly, passing him the towel, "I'll get you more clothes."

Oh. That. Scowling at the floor, he does as he's told, handing his sopping clothes off to Nigel, who takes them toward the kitchen; the washer. Aiden wraps the towel around his waist and stands forlornly.

"Go get warm," Nigel orders from the kitchen.

Aiden shakes his head and obeys, because he might as well. He's strangely guilty for offending him. Aiden's known he was queer since he was a teen, has always been honest about it. He shouldn't judge Nigel. Not everybody discovers that about themselves that easily.

Nigel was married, too, he reminds himself. To a woman. He sighs at the thought. Is he a fucking midlife crisis? He's okay with being a fling, or so he thought. He was okay being a fling while Nigel was a fling. He doesn't really want Nigel to be one anymore.

At the thought, he's propelled forward into the kitchen. "Nigel..?"

Nigel looks up from the washer. Aiden bites his lip.

"Will you kiss me now?"

Nigel nods, stepping closer. "Yes, gorgeous. I'll kiss you." He brings his hands up to cradle Aiden's cheeks. "Do you forgive me for being a fucking prick?"

"I - guess as long as you know."

"As long as I know what?"

"That you were being a prick."

Nigel sighs and opens his arms, wrapping Aiden up gently. He's wearing a sweater. Aiden lays his cheek against the soft knit. Nigel hugs him; turns his cheek against the top of Aiden's head.

"You looked so fucking beautiful in that church. You always do."

"Nigel," Aiden sighs.

"I'm sorry," Nigel mutters.

"I know, babe." Aiden turns his face up to kiss his stubbled chin. He's still hurt, and angry, but he can't entirely be either when Nigel seems so tangled up in whatever it is he's fighting. He just wants to help.

Nigel's thumbs soothe against his jaw when he eases Aiden back to kiss him and that takes some of the sting out, too. He releases a long breath.

"Nigel... you've got issues."

Nigel laughs. "Don't I fucking know."

Aiden smiles helplessly. "I wish I could help."

"You do help."

"How can I help more?"

"Be patient with me."

"I'm not - the best at that. But I'll try my best."

"Neither am I," Nigel shrugs.

What an understatement. Aiden shakes his head fondly and kisses the palm of Nigel's hand as he strokes Aiden's hair. It's a comfort that's becoming familiar.

"All right, pup?" That's comfort too, Nigel's casual affection.

"I'm okay."

More hands in his hair. He closes his eyes. Nigel winds his arms tight around him. "My boy," he murmurs.

Aiden sighs. "I wish."

He feels Nigel pull back slightly to look at him. Aiden doesn't raise his eyes. He's turning red.

"Aiden," Nigel murmurs.

"What?"

"Do you feel like explaining that?"

"Not really."

"Will you do it anyway?"

Aiden sighs at the floor. "You won't tell me the truth about any goddamn thing, so, I'm probably gonna pass."

"I see."

The tension is back. Aiden moves away from him and goes to get dressed. He's so tired all of a sudden. He towels his hair; pulls on his sleep pants and the sweater Nigel first loaned him. Crawling between the covers is a relief. He can't wait for him to come and either be mad or decide he isn't- he needs more consistency than Nigel's moods can provide right now. He needs to feel less desperately tired and confused. But he doesn't need it enough to leave. Sighing, he curls up in Nigel's great bed and tries his best to sleep.

He’s not getting far when Nigel’s footsteps sound in the doorway.

“Aiden.”

“Mhm.”

“I have to go out a few hours. I won’t be long.”

Of course he does. Twisting dissatisfaction tearing up his stomach, Aiden just shrugs and turns over.

“Okay,” he mutters. He hears a sigh, and then Nigel leaves. It takes a long time for the ache in his chest to subside.

*

When he wakes again, he's surrounded by heat that means Nigel has joined him, curled around him even as he slept. Aiden turns, half asleep, and buries his face into his warmth, fingers combing into soft hair. They sink into the fur up to his knuckles, and he sighs. Dreaming about wolves again.

He nestles closer into the silver streaked pelt and drifts. In his dreams, a wet snout touches against his temple; the flick of a tongue. The lethal creature grooms him idly, body curved protectively.

It's not the weirdest dream Aiden's ever had, not even when the wolf snuffles his neck and shoulders thoroughly before settling its great head over his shoulder and resting there until Aiden's sleep deepens again. It's the safest he's felt in a long time.

*

The next morning, he’s alone. He listens but he can't hear Nigel moving around. Curious, he sits up in the bed, dusting himself down before he gets up to go look for him. He stretches, feeling overly warm, his head and chest stuffy.

"Nigel?" he calls, heading into the kitchen. "Are you cooking for me?" he teases.

He stops when he catches sight of Nigel on his balcony on the phone, cigarette hanging from his mouth, just in his boxers. God, it's unfair how his body reacts. He moves to sit at the table, and Nigel spots him through the window and gives him a little wave. He looks stormy, though, around the eyes. Aiden hangs onto the edge of the table and waits. It's almost enough to make him want to start smoking. Just to share that rhythm. He doesn't think he could pull it off the way Nigel does, though.

All of a sudden Nigel's phone conversation turns sharp. Aiden watches, trying to hide his interest behind his hand. He can get away after the twelfth, he keeps saying. Aiden can't fucking wait. He wonders if it'll truly give him a break. He sighs and closes his eyes.

Finally, Nigel hangs up and comes inside. "Morning, beautiful."

"Morning, Nigel," he murmurs.

Nigel goes to the coffee maker and pours two cups. "Okay?"

Aiden nods. "Weird dreams."

"Want to talk about it?" Nigel brings him a cup of coffee.

"Not really anything to talk about. I always have them when I'm working on a book."

"What did you dream?"

"About a wolf."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I'm not sure... I was in its den, maybe." At Nigel's curious eyebrow quirk, he turns pink. "I don't know, I was half asleep."

"Dreaming?"

"It was lucid dreaming I guess."

"That sounds fancy."

Aiden snorts. "Shut up. It was just one of those weird half dreams where it feels real but isn't."

Nigel just nods and blows a smoke ring. "A wolf. Okay."

"I guess I have them on the brain."

Nigel smiles at him. "I guess so, gorgeous. You okay though?"

"I sort of want to go back to sleep," Aiden mumbles.

Nigel watches him a moment, then reaches out and touches his arm gently. "You can do that, if you want."

"Maybe I'm coming down with something."

"Might be from the rain last night. Let me take you back to bed, we can sleep a while longer."

Aiden nods groggily. "Okay."

It's so easy to be steered back to Nigel's warm bed; to fall asleep with his heat banking his back. He thinks hard about wolves, just in case.

*

His dreams are lurid and strange, and Aiden wakes in the night to the feeling of hot breath on his neck. He realizes he's still asleep when a warm tongue laps slowly at his cheek.

He peers back at the wolf on the bed, paws delicately curled where it's wrapped around Aiden. The hazy light from the orange night outside casts long shadows on the wall as the wolf leans close and starts to snuffle attentively at Aiden's curls, tickling his ears.

"You're warm," he tells it sleepily, thrusting both hands into its long undercoat.

The wolf huffs info his skin and grooms behind his ears again. It still tickles, but he holds still for it. He giggles lazily when the wolf butts its head against the side of his face and stays there. He tugs playfully on one velvety ear.

The wolf licks his and, after some more careful nosing and grooming, soothes him back into rest. He feels a little feverish; hot and stuffy. When he wakes up for real, he thinks idly, he's definitely going to be sick, if he's dreaming about it.

Sure enough, when he does stir again, Nigel is touching his forehead with one cool hand, brows drawn.

"Darling," he says quietly. "How are you feeling?"

"Weird," Aiden mumbles. He feels sticky and congested.

"I think you're ill," Nigel nods seriously. "Maybe the flu. I've got some meds, and I'll make you some tea. Toast. Gonna try to eat for me?"

Aiden nods, curling back up into the pillow when it makes him dizzy. He feels Nigel nose in; kiss behind his ear before he goes toward the kitchen, leaving Aiden dozing off again. Sick, and dreaming about Nigel having a pet wolf. Just perfect.

He eats some toast, takes some medication, and drinks half a cup of tea before he needs to sleep again. Nigel stays with him most of the time. Sometimes, Aiden sees the wolf, pacing impatiently in front of the balcony doors or sleeping beside him. He smiles woozily whenever it licks his face.

"Pup," he mutters into its fur, and the wolf rumbles and nibbles at his shirt neck. He sighs. Sleeps again. Lets Nigel feed him tea.

*

He's not sure how long passes before he hears a knock at the door, and then a long, rumbling growl. By the time he's properly awake, Nigel is out of bed and the bedroom door is shut. By the light, it looks like late morning- but Aiden thinks it might be a new day. He's stiff from sleeping for so long. He remembers getting up to pee, maybe. Does he? Maybe the wolf came with him.

He actually looks around the room for it before he realizes: that's ridiculous.

He feels a little better regardless, he thinks. He can hear Nigel at the door- so that was real. He's talking low and threatening again. Some subordinate, then. Darko? He gets up and cracks the door silently, just to listen. His Romanian is improving; maybe he can catch a few words.

He's surprised by the word 'vânătoarea'; the hunt. He only knows it because of his research. It makes his stomach turn a little, a flutter of nerves. What the hell would the mob be hunting? He keeps listening, holding his shirt tight in a fist at the neck to steady his hands.

He doesn't catch many other words - lună, of course, is easy. He frowns at that too, but shrugs it off mentally: probably code. His attention snaps back to them when he hears his own name.

"Stai departe de Aiden," Nigel hisses.

Shit; he thinks he understood that. Why would Nigel's minions follow him? He hears the door close and scurries back, away from the hall and back to the safety of the bed. Better to ignore it all. Even if it terrifies him. Right now, he has no other option. He feels exhausted just from a trip across the room.

He's about caught his breath when the door opens and Nigel appears with meds and Lucozade, cigarette tucked unlit behind his ear. He smiles softly as soon as their eyes meet. "You're sitting up."

"Yeah," Aiden says groggily, "hi..."

Nigel presents his double handful of supplies. "Shall we?"

"I thought you'd never ask," Aiden says, leaning to accept both. "Just what I always wanted."

"I'm good at gifts," Nigel says dryly.

It makes Aiden smile softly. He thinks Nigel might be, if he had the opportunity. "These are exceptional," he smirks. Then he sneezes, which ruins it somewhat.

Nigel snickers and leans to kiss him gently when Aiden has wiped his face, even though he still feels gross.

"You'll get sick-"

"I'll be okay, pup." He sits on the edge of the bed and pulls Aiden into his lap. His touch is strangely possessive, like he's the one that needs comfort as he wraps his arms around him and holds him tightly. He noses under his ear with a sigh. Aiden closes his eyes, half expecting the swipe of a tongue. "I missed you," Nigel whispers.

"I'm right here."

"I know. I know." He's clinging like Aiden's never felt before.

He strokes his hair. "Nigel... are you okay?"

"I get attached..." Nigel mumbles.

"To boys you pick up on the streets of Bucharest?"

"Girls, before. A girl. Never boys. Not until you."

"A girl. Your wife."

"Yes. Gabi."

"You got attached to Gabi."

"Playing her cello in the cafe," Nigel murmurs. He cups the nape of Aiden's neck. "She made me less of an animal."

"How long ago?" Aiden has to ask.

"Two years now since we divorced."

"And since then? Are you still less of an animal?"

"Unfortunately yes. All part of the problem." His lips brush Aiden's ear.

Aiden winds his arms tighter around him. "I'm kinda glad."

"That I've been tamed?"

"I don't think that's the case."

Nigel laughs softly. He leans back, and Aiden gazes at him, touching under the cut of his cheek.

 "I don't think anyone could."

"Would you prefer me that way?"

"No," Aiden admits. "I like you as you are. Well. Mostly."

"Mostly," Nigel chuckles. “I think you might need more taming than I do, Aiden.”

“Oh yeah?”

“I think so.” He shakes his head fondly, sharp teeth bared and his silver hair catching the light.

Aiden laughs too. "Can't wait to see you away from your family." He says it as gently as possible.

Nigel smiles. "Me fucking neither, gorgeous." He claims Aiden's lips again.

Aiden sighs. "I should take a shower- brush my teeth-" But Nigel doesn't seem to want to let him get up. "Nigel," Aiden laughs. Each rock of his hips makes Nigel's grip tighten. "You're terrible," Aiden tells him finally, blushing and squirming and not meaning it one bit.

Nigel just laughs and mouths at his jaw. "Do you still feel bad, angel?"

"Maybe a little."

"I'll run you a bath?"

"That sounds great."

"All right." Nigel kisses his cheek; leaves him in bed while he goes to the bathroom.

Aiden watches him go. He feels... cherished. Indulged, a bit. He dozes until Nigel comes to get him. Then he agreeably lets himself be stripped.

Nigel must feel him swaying, because he scoops him up into his arms and carries him through to the bath. The water is perfect. Aiden almost groans at how good it feels.

"Do you have a dog?" he asks blearily.

Nigel laughs. "Why, darling? Do you feel like I'm bathing you like one?"

"No," Aiden rubs his eyes, "I... I don't know." He sighs. "I keep dreaming about a dog."

"A dog?"

"A wolf." Aiden turns pink. "I think it's a fever brain thing."

Nigel just hums. "You don't feel as hot now. No more pretend dogs today?"

Aiden closes his eyes when Nigel touches his damp forehead. His hands aren't quite steady. "Sorry," he mutters.

"No, Aiden. I'm the one that's sorry."

"Didn't do anything, N'gel," Aiden slurs. He feels Nigel's hand dip to his chest, steadying him.

"Back to bed in a minute, gorgeous," he whispers. Hands careful, he tips Aiden back and quickly washes his hair for him. Aiden is half asleep again by the time Nigel drains the water, wraps him in a bath sheet and carries him back to bed. Definitely a man. And a strong one. "Still sick, pup," he hears him say gently. He obediently drinks more Lucozade and then goes back to sleep. He feels dreams creeping around the edges again but never quite surfacing.

Another night of blearily stumbling to the bathroom and back to bed, and finally the fever breaks in the night. He wakes suddenly from the sheer relief. He's clearer, cooler. His hand goes out to find Nigel in the dark.

Nigel isn't there.

Aiden frowns and fumbles for the bedside light. It's not like Nigel to leave him in the night – well, not without saying something. He snaps on the lamp, and Nigel is standing in the doorway with a glass of water. He squints in the light.

"You're awake. I thought you might be."

Aiden nods, throat still tight with receding fear.

"Cold water," Nigel says, handing it over.

"Thank you." He takes a long swallow. "God, I finally feel a little better..."

"I'm glad." He gets back into bed, settling down beside Aiden, who pillows his head on Nigel's chest immediately. "Bad dream, gorgeous?"

"No, you were just...gone."

"I'm sorry." Nigel wraps his arm around his back. "You were warm, I just wanted to cool you down."

"M'always warm with you."

"I was worried it was because you were still sick." Nigel kisses the top of his head. "Go back to sleep, gorgeous. I won't go again."

Aiden mumbles agreement. He goes back to sleep once again. Nigel murmurs in Romanian as he's drifting off.

*

The sickness retreats, though Aiden spends another couple of days feeling shaky, Nigel sweetly attentive. He barely leaves the apartment, though Aiden overhears several more unhappy phone conversations. Eventually, Nigel touches his thigh.

"Gonna try sit on the sofa today, gorgeous? I need to go get us some food."

Aiden nods. "C'n I watch TV?"

"Of course you can."

Nigel watches him curl himself into a corner of the couch. He looks worried. Aiden tries to smile at him soothingly.

"I'm okay. Bring me some ice cream?"

"You got it, gorgeous."

"Thanks, Daddy." He grins a bit.

Nigel grins too. He kisses Aiden's cheek before he goes. He's been in a good mood today so far. Aiden is... surprised by how much he seems to like taking care of him. And how little he asks in return. He'd almost seemed annoyed when Aiden hadn't been taking financial advantage of him. Aiden will just have to let him spoil him.

He turns on the TV with a sigh, and tries to stay awake, tries to make it through a news program. His eyelids are getting heavy when he hears scratching at the door. He's wide awake immediately. His head turns toward the door and he gets up, listening. The scratching continues, and then there's a soft, low growl.

"The fuck, Nigel," he grumbles. He goes to the door and peers out of the spy hole. Of course he can't see anything. Maybe he's going crazy. His hand goes to the door handle, ears straining.

He's scared to open the door. The scratching gets louder, and he moves away to grab his cell phone. Then he quietly attaches the chain so he can crack the door if he needs to. He dials Nigel as the scratching intensifies.

"Nigel," he hisses as soon as the call connects, "there's something at your door -"

"What?" Nigel's voice goes low. "What is it-?"

"Does, uh, one of your neighbors have a really big dog?"

"Shit," Nigel breathes, "go in the bedroom, stay away from the door, I'm almost home."

"This is weird," Aiden complains.

"It's okay, darling, big dog, like you said. He gets out sometimes, I've fucking told that cunt- I'm coming up the stairs."

"Don't get hurt," Aiden yelps.

"It's okay gorgeous. I'm hanging up now. Go in the bedroom, I'll call my neighbor."

Aiden does as he says. He hears... more growling. "Nigel," he groans. But it's over as quickly as it began. Doors bang, some shouting and cursing in Romanian. Then Nigel opens the bedroom door, and despite himself Aiden still startles.

"Darling," Nigel murmurs, coming to him and wrapping him up.

"What the hell is going on-?" Aiden asks weakly.

"An arsehole and his guard dog." He cups Aiden's cheek. "I'm sorry, sweetheart."

"I thought - all my dreams -"

"It's okay. It's okay." He hugs him tightly.

"I wish it was real."

That makes Nigel stall. "What do you mean-?"

"The only thing that's ever made me feel as safe as you, is that dream of mine. Pathetic."

"You're fucking - you're not pathetic, don't say that."

"Oh, but I am."

Nigel eases him back. "You're not. You're a fucking artist. You're all in the clouds. It's what's so fucking gorgeous about you." Aiden's mouth wobbles slightly. Nigel hugs him again tightly. "I can't get enough of you."

"Even though I'm crazy and sick?"

"You're not crazy, Aiden. And you're getting better. You need more water. And to rest."

"Only with you."

"Yes." Nigel kisses him gently. "Just with me."

Aiden threads his fingers through his hair. He doesn't want him to pull back. A little judicious tugging has him spread out over Aiden on the bed.

"Darling- you're still sick," he reminds him.

"Just kiss me again."

Nigel concedes with a soft hum. He cups Aiden's face in his palms and covers it with soft kisses. It's entirely too much, but Aiden wants more. He needs to feel saturated in Nigel. He clings to the front of his shirt and rubs their cheeks together.

Warm, heavy hands smooth over his chest and down his sides. Aiden breathes in deep. "S'good."

"Yeah, pup."

"Don't stop?"

"Touching you? Won't stop, I promise."

Aiden sighs in relief. Nigel for his part is trying to keep things platonic, but there is nothing platonic about mapping every rise of bone and dip of flesh on his torso. Aiden kisses under his jaw until Nigel sighs.

"Aiden, baby. At least try and wait until you feel better."

"This makes me feel better."

Nigel shakes his head fondly and leans down to kiss his chest. "Then lie still and let me."

Sighing, Aiden stretches and nods. "Please, Daddy."

Nigel's breath puffs, an air of defeat in his breath. "Baby..." His eyes are warm. Aiden bites his lip.

"I think you like me being sick," he teases, "no chance of me leaving."

"Am I so transparent, gorgeous?"

"Like glass, Daddy."

Nigel smirks. He kisses under Aiden's ear. "You can go whenever you want, darling."

"Like I want to."

"How about to sleep?"

"Nigel," Aiden complains. He pouts a bit and gets another kiss.

"Please, baby boy." He kisses him again. "I can touch you all you want when you're feeling better."

"Gonna hold you to it."

"I look forward to it, gorgeous." He nips gently along the edge of his jaw. Then he pulls the sheets up over Aiden with gentle insistence. His eyes as he tucks him in are warm. Aiden curls up and sinks into the dark.

*

There are no more canine visitors, but Nigel is gone more frequently as Aiden goes back to work on his book. Apologetic, but gone. He comes home one night with a take away and dessert and a pack of beers, throwing his keys into the bowl and starting to shrug off his jacket at the threshold.

Aiden watches him from the bedroom doorway. His eyes drift to the ajar front door; the intersecting scratches there, deep in the wood, left by claws.

The dessert is the tip-off, really. "What's going on-?"

"Thought we'd have a nice evening. I have to go out later." He seems to note the suspicious silence that follows. "I'm sorry," he adds.

Aiden itches his shoulder and bites his lip. "It's the eleventh."

"I know. Tonight is the last...family commitment I'm needed for."

"For how long?"

"It'll be late. I'll be back by morning."

Aiden frowns, disappointment stealing over him. "Nigel..."

"What, love?"

"I don't like you going out at night. I'm worried about you."

"I'm a big fucking boy, Aiden."

"I know," Aiden hangs his head. He feels anxious about this, for some reason. Nigel must see it, because he sighs and comes toward him.

"I promise, baby boy, this is it. After tonight, I'm all yours."

Dubious, Aiden angles toward him, head down. He lets himself be wrapped up in Nigel's arms. "I feel like something bad is going to happen."

"Nothing bad is going to happen. Let's eat, all right?" Nigel tips his chin up and looks at him steadily.

Aiden just can't believe him. But he's reluctantly charmed by the effort Nigel is making. He sighs and nods, trying not to be sullen. Nigel prods him into a kitchen chair and spreads food out over the table. It looks good, and Aiden is finally getting his appetite back. In fact, Nigel has bought all of his favorites.

"You didn't have to do all this," he says softly.

Nigel shakes his head, raising his beer bottle to his lips. "Of course I did."

Aiden bites his lip. He doesn't want to argue, so he just eats.

Nigel does as well, but he is distracted. Aiden watches him. He's hiding concern, and doing it well.

"So what's tonight?" Aiden asks.

Nigel sighs. "Call it a tradition. We meet, the family acknowledges its leader. I acknowledge their rights."

"What rights-?"

"Aiden - you don't need to know. You already know too much, but I can't just -" he sighs.

Aiden sighs and looks at the table. "Okay."

"Don't be angry with me, pup."

Aiden shrugs, poking his dinner around. He can feel Nigel fighting with his irritation. Not that this is at all uncommon for him. He's gotten better at holding his temper, even since Aiden has been here, but it still snaps unexpectedly. Now, he just sets down his fork and lights a cigarette with precise, forceful movements. Aiden lets him work it out.

"I don't want to come back," he mutters, eventually, smoke whirling from his lips.

"From your meeting?" Aiden frowns.

"From wherever we go."

"Oh." Aiden thinks about it for a moment. It's... strangely pleasing. "Well - I won't make you."

"I know, darling. Nor I you."

They both smile gingerly. Nigel keeps smoking sullenly. Aiden doesn't know what else to say. He puts down his own fork and gets up, moving over to Nigel, sinks to his knees by his chair.

"Aiden... what're you doing, gorgeous?"

Aiden ignores him and leans his cheek against his knee. He sighs when Nigel's warm hand slides into his hair.

"You shouldn't be down there, baby boy."

"Why not?"

"You're still ill." Aiden lets Nigel urge him up into his lap with gentle hands.

"I'm fine, Nigel."

"And you don't need to sit at my feet, either." He kisses Aiden's shoulder. "It's me that should be the one to lie at yours."

Aiden sighs. "Let's just be together."

Nigel nods. He looks tense at the strange fug of apprehension that's settled between them, agitated with it.

"Look, Nigel," Aiden murmurs. "Maybe you should just go. Get your work done as early as you can."

"It starts late, angel."

"Still. We can just - I'll be here - it might be better that way?"

Nigel's eyes narrow. He looks up at Aiden. "Are you trying to get rid of me?"

"No? Jesus, Nigel."

Nigel sighs and looks away like he's embarrassed. Aiden wonders how many times Gabi packed her bags and left while Nigel was at work, for him to have such a hang up about it. He suspects it would have only had to be once. He touches his cheek.

"Daddy. I'm not leaving without you."

Nigel's eyes go golden warm. "Okay, gorgeous."

"Okay," Aiden echoes. He kisses him gently, twining his fingers into the too-long hair over Nigel's collar.

"Okay. I'll get going. I won't be back until early, okay? Don't worry about me. Help yourself to anything."

"I'm calling you if I wake up tomorrow and you're not here."

"Okay, sweetheart."

"I might be really mean."

"I'll do my best to spare us both the agony."

Aiden thwacks him on the shoulder. That just makes Nigel laugh and tug him down into a kiss. They do that until the food's all gone cold.

Chapter Text

Aiden watches from the doorway as Nigel gathers his things to leave, a strange set to his shoulders. He waves him off casually, but the door's barely shut before something spurs him into motion. He tugs his shoes and jacket on, grabs a lockback knife and the spare keys from a kitchen drawer, and waits until the elevator doors have closed down the hall to swing down the stairs in pursuit. Nigel may not forgive him, but he has to see what's going on. He hasn't heard the "neighbor's dog" since that incident. Something feels... just, wrong. Wrong in a way he can't credit, or articulate.

He catches sight of Nigel - met by Darko - outside of the building and follows, keeping a steady distance behind him. Best case, he ends up loitering outside of some building somewhere. He's not thinking of worst cases.

Ahead, Nigel and Darko are joined by a few others, keeping step behind Nigel as he walks. They're steadily leaving the city center, too. It's dark, and easy to slip along behind them undetected. He's surprised by how many people filter into their group as he follows, and how boisterous they are. They all seem... excited.

At the distant head of the growing procession, Nigel does not. Aiden feels his anxiety mount as more people start to seep into the group the further out they go – they must walk for what feels like an hour. There's a forest ahead, and people waiting among the trees.

Why are they meeting in a forest, by a ruined - ? Aiden squints and suppresses a sigh. It looks like another church.

Ahead, Nigel starts up the crumbling steps, and the crowd seems to grow even further. He’s the leader, Aiden knew that, but he wasn’t expecting the dead silence that falls when he takes his podium; sets his shoulders.

Eager to hear him as he starts to talk, Aiden shifts more toward the side of the crowd, ducking behind a group of trees. He stumbles a bit on a loose root and catches himself against the trunk, rough bark scraping his palm. He chokes back his gasp of pain, trying to listen to hear Nigel is saying.

It's all Romanian, but the crowd is attentive. Aiden finds to his steadily growing horror that he understands a lot of it. It's a hunt, he realizes. Genuinely. Nigel calls it a Blood Rite.

Family business, sure. Aiden feels a fresh wave of nauseous horror when Nigel nods to one of his peers, and a chorus of howls go up.

The next seconds are a blur. One second Aiden is watching, and the next, someone catches him from behind and shouts over his head.

We've got one, he translates almost idly, until he realizes... him. That's him. And then he wrenches away from the hands holding him.

He sees Nigel pause and turn, brows drawn in confusion. Run, the tickle in the back of his neck tells him. But the frenzied energy seems to have turned on him, and he sees the moment Nigel's face contorts in horror that he's hesitated a moment too long. He turns on his heel and darts grasping hands and strange, snarling mouths, fleeing through the trees.

His brain went into revolt the moment he started running, but he can only think one single thing: wolves. He turns his head, and almost breaks his neck at the sight that races after him. Wolves, dozens of them, dark and light and sleek, teeth gleaming as they dart from light to shadow. He stumbles, eyes huge, and then tears his way ever more urgently through the undergrowth.

He thought he was prepared for this fool's errand. He had no idea what he was getting into. As he runs, his mind flashes to Nigel's face; the way he'd launched into motion as a dancer might. Had Aiden imagined the twisting of his features into something feral? He can't think about it. Not while he runs. His lungs burn, and the ground is uneven and treacherous. He feels heat against his leg; fur under his palms. He skids on the leaves, twisting away from snapping jaws.

Seeing a boulder ahead, he throws himself over it, then flush against the lee side, fumbling in his pocket for Nigel's knife. In a flurry of white, pearlescent teeth, two wolves converge on his hiding spot. Aiden shows his own, knife held out in a fighting stance. He's shaking, and the wolves are getting closer. He doesn't want to fucking die in Nigel's fucking Blood Rite.

"Back off!" he yells, brandishing the knife. The closest wolf snaps at his hand. He slashes at it automatically, and it yelps and slinks back.

Another rushes in to take its place, and as the teeth close around his defending arm, Aiden lunges with the blade. This time he feels it bite in deep. As deep as the teeth around his wrist, so sharp he's crying with it. He twists the knife and the wolf releases him with an awful, human shriek of anguish. The others hold back, warned off for now, and Aiden tucks his bloodied arm against his chest and gasps in pain. He presses against the stone, certain if he runs again, they'll pounce.

But if he stays, they'll pounce anyway. He grips the knife tighter, and launches himself over the injured wolf, haring deeper into the trees and veering away from the sounds of pounding paws and growling. The injured wolf has caused a distraction, and he puts some decent distance between himself and the pack. He needs to find somewhere safe.

Something nags in his mind from his comic- the stories he's read. The hunt, the wolves- it's them. Loupesgaroux.

It's the most ridiculous explanation... and the most fitting. He can't see any men anymore. They've all changed. Even - even Nigel. He stumbles over his own feet, swearing. He wants to call for him, but he's so afraid of what else might find him.

He thinks of being sick; of the wolf that groomed and comforted him in his fever dreams. The thought makes him stumble. He veers off into the underbrush; down an embankment and into the soft mud of a creek bed. Water, he thinks. They can't track him through water.

Nigel can't track him through water. He falls to his knees and whines helplessly.

A low, rumbling growl startles him to his feet. His eyes search the gloom. Several wolves emerge from the cover of the trees, none of them with the distinctive iron white muzzle Aiden remembers.

"What a way to go," he mumbles. "Killed by my own research."

Rigid fear seizes his spine as the wolves converge, strangely silent. Suddenly, a long, eerie howl echoes through the trees, and all of them turn ears toward it. Aiden watches, as transfixed as they are.

The howl sounds again, more insistent, and Aiden's heart leaps as they start to filter back into the trees, toward the sound. Calling them off. Calling them away.

"Nigel," he breathes, not daring to say it louder. He grits his teeth, then lowers himself into the water, trying to rinse his wound, breathing hard. He's suddenly alone, and the need to run washes out of him like so much blood into water.

He's so tired, shivery from the last traces of sickness and having run so far on nothing but whatever he picked at early for dinner. And the wolves - the loupes garoux, Christ - they still fill the forest. The night is drawing in and Aiden is terrified of what he'll do if it gets dark.

He urges himself to move again, stumbling through the water. He can hear more movement in the gloomy trees; recalcitrant pack members, he suspects. He forces himself to stop, listen. This is a thick wood but still relatively close to the city center. He ought to be able to find shelter somewhere. Habitation. Humans.

The crackle of leaves to his left seizes his attention, and when he looks, a solitary wolf watches him from the bank, eyes shining gold in the light of the setting sun. He recognizes those eyes. Knows them.

"Nigel," he breathes, "what the hell." Nigel - the wolf from his fever dreams - of course they're all the same.

As if to throw him further into doubt at the state of his sanity, the wolf jumps down to the bank, changing shape as it goes. Aiden just closes his eyes and goes to his knees in the mud.

Hands on him startle him, and Nigel looks - livid, yes, but so worried too. He's white with it. "Aiden - what happened? What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Don't you think I should be asking that?" Aiden grits as Nigel lifts his wrist to inspect it. He brings it to his nose and inhales, then shakes his head as if to clear the smell before he pulls Aiden close.

"Stupid fucking boy," he scolds, the shake in his voice undercutting his anger, "I told you to wait."

"I just wanted to know where you'd be," Aiden breathes miserably.

"You should have listened to me when I said it wasn't fucking safe, Aiden."

"You didn't tell me this was why!"

"It's not the sort of fucking thing that comes up readily in conversation!"

No, it isn't. "Are they going to come back for me?" Aiden whispers.

"Yes, and fucking me," Nigel mutter, looking around- then he looks back at Aiden seriously for a moment, bloody, wet hands slipping up to his face. "I thought- when I saw you..."

"What did you think?" Aiden bites his lip.

"I thought they were going to catch you," Nigel murmurs, shaking his head fiercely, hair hanging in his eyes.

"They did," Aiden says. "I had a knife. I stabbed one."

"I know you did." Nigel strokes his sweaty curls distractedly, like he's hearing things Aiden isn't.

Aiden shivers. "Will they kill me now? Will... will you?"

"I won't let anyone hurt you. I was trying..." he cups Aiden's wrist gently, sighing. "When I knew I couldn't stop them, I tried to get to you."

"I saw you," Aiden says softly.

"You didn't know it was me."

"Before you - changed," Aiden whispers, "I saw you."

Nigel looks pained. "I'm sorry, angel." Then he grimaces. "We need to get out of here."

Aiden nods, but the first step makes him stagger. Nigel pulls his uninjured arm over his shoulder and urges him.

"We need to follow this to the main river. The hunt finishes at the river."

"Okay," Aiden whispers.

Like he senses his abject terror, Nigel pauses, turning and kissing him softly. "You'll be okay, darling. I promise I will keep you safe, okay? I promise." Aiden bites his lip, and Nigel presses. "I will kill to keep you safe, baby boy."

It shouldn't be a comfort, but right now, it is. He's too petrified to even dread their imminent fight. Nigel's heat on him is like a shield. His hand is tight as they slog along the bank.

They cover ground quickly even hindered by the mud: Nigel is incredibly strong. God, Aiden should have known, even from that. He feels like a fool.

"How the hell did this happen?" he mutters.

Nigel glances back at him. "I'm not quite sure, gorgeous."

"We need to talk about a lot of things," Aiden grimaces.

"I can't fucking wait." Nigel’s voice is just tight enough to make Aiden’s stomach churn. Even so, when their eyes meet Nigel shoots him a smile. So charming, even now. Even always. "Not much farther," he murmurs, just as they both hear a distant howl.

Ahead of them, Aiden sees a lone wolf converge on the bank. Nigel pushes him behind himself and issues a warning growl. Aiden feels that everything goes utterly still. Even the water seems to run more quietly.

Nigel seems to shimmer slightly in Aiden's peripheral vision, like a desert mirage. "Darko," he murmurs.

"Is- is that bad?" Aiden mutters.

"Maybe. Maybe not." In the next heartbeat, Nigel shifts. Aiden watches as the sleek, slate colored wolf hunkers in front of him, gleaming white teeth all on show. He approaches the waiting other.

Aiden grasps the knife again as more appear from the trees. He can see where the stream opens up into the river; it's tantalizingly close. The gekkering and snorting grows fervent; Aiden sees a flash of white tail as the wolves launch into jaw snapping conflict. They're growling low, clearly communicating. There's a few yelps but Aiden can't see what's going on from his vantage point; can only see the hungry way the others look between the fighting pack leaders, and him.

"Nigel," he whispers. He edges along the bank, closer toward the river. Half of him wants to go stab, tear, protect. But he can't win, he knows. For Nigel... he'd still try.

Another yelp startles him, but he doesn't think Darko is the problem anymore- the wolves are starting to magnetize toward the fray, skulking away from Aiden. Fear grips him; fear for Nigel.

Darko wheels, showing his teeth to the other wolves, keeping them back. He and Nigel pivot, dancing close to nip, back to circle again. Aiden scrambles further, craning to see. He thinks this is a dominance fight now. When he finally gets close enough to see, he's shocked by how brutal it is. Both wolves are smeared with blood. He swears softly.

The wolf he knows- god, Nigel- darts forward, and there's another flurry of jaws and flying fur before, with a flash of his golden eyes, Nigel goes low on his paws with a reluctant show of surrender. Aiden bites his lip, prepared for more violence, but that seems to be the key; Darko turns his back, herding the gathered others back into the woods.

Aiden holds back only as long as he can, and then he rushes to the wolf, reaching out. "Let me look at you," he says.

The wolf seems guarded at first, but it transforms into an all too familiar kind of surliness as it lies down in the leaf litter.

"How bad is it?" Aiden asks, searching through his fur. He tentatively searches out lacerations and gashes, deep but not life threatening. When the wolf finally turns its head to drop its snout into Aiden's hands, he sees a stark slash on its muzzle.

"What will these look like when you shift back?"

Nigel doesn't reply, but he closes his eyes.

"I can take you to a doctor," Aiden soothes. He looks around fleetingly, then scratches gently under Nigel's chin. "Come on, we gotta go."

The wolf climbs to his feet, and inserts his back under Aiden's trailing hand. Slowly, they walk the rest of the way to the river. Aiden tries not to blurt questions Nigel can't - or won't - answer. He's not entirely sure why he hasn't shifted back. He thinks maybe Nigel can't- or that he's afraid he won't be able to defend him as a man.

Either way, he walks carefully, knife still out. It seems like a long time before they're getting back to the shelter of the city, the night painting the sky bruise purple and the streetlights making their shadows spindly. Aiden holds his breath. The whole city seems deserted, as if everyone knows to keep away on this night.

Their walk is uninterrupted, and eventually Aiden wearily presses in the code to Nigel's building and lets him inside. Watching the wolf limp up the stairs is harder than he thought it'd be. He wants to… he doesn't even know.

Inside, he traipses to the bathroom after securing every lock in the place. He gets the water in the tub running to heat up, and fetches the first aid kit. He's almost forgotten about his own lacerated wrist.

Nigel hasn't. He noses at it with a wet snout as Aiden passes, huffing his concern.

"Get in the tub," Aiden scolds. He watches him climb in sedately. Aiden takes down the shower head and starts spraying off some of the patches of blood, the wolf nosing at his wrist every now and then.

"Are you planning on changing back anytime soon?" Aiden asks him, hoping he sounds calm. He's urgent for Nigel's comfort; his strength. But Nigel seems exhausted, and he gives a soft whuff at the question and presses close to Aiden.

"Okay," Aiden soothes. "Okay." He takes a moment, then climbs in the tub with him after stripping off his filthy clothes, sitting down in his boxers and letting the water wash over them both. Nigel licks at the torn skin of his arm. Aiden lets him, even though it hurts a little. Maybe it will be good for it, who the hell knows.

Nigel lies half against him with a very human sigh, and Aiden contents himself with petting his sopping back as Nigel inspects his face and neck very seriously with his nose.

"Do you need me to clean those gashes with antiseptic?" Aiden asks. "Or should I just do mine?" He snorts a bit when Nigel licks at his mouth. "Gross - fine, just me." He checks his fur over one more time. "Get out, let me dry you off first."

It turns out that, like most dogs, Nigel is incapable of not shaking water everywhere. Aiden sighs and mops it up the best he can before disinfecting and wrapping his arm while Nigel watches with unblinking golden eyes.

When he's dry and warm and slightly calmer, Aiden goes to the bedroom and smiles when Nigel climbs up behind him on the bed and lies down heavily.

"Look, Nigel, it's not that I don't like you this way - as incredibly fucking insane as it all is - but I am starting to worry that you're stuck like this, and I feel like a fucking idiot talking to myself."

Just a huff in response. Nigel seems intent on going to sleep. God. Fine. They'll sleep. Aiden rolls his eyes and reaches up to turn out the lights. Lying in the dark with a warm, furred body against his back, he can't help but start to feel heavy with it. He's exhausted and scared, but he still feels safe like this.

*

He sleeps, but fitfully, and the second time he wakes it's with Nigel's big, warm arms wrapped around him and his nose in Aiden's cheek. "Thank fuck," he rasps.

"Mm?" Nigel noses at him. "Go back to sleep."

"Can't," Aiden says, kissing over his cheeks and chin.

Nigel has a gash over the bridge of his nose; a deep one on his jaw. He flinches a bit; stifles Aiden gently with a squeeze. "Ow."

"Sorry baby."

"Don't." He sounds half asleep. "Your arm-?"

"Hurts, but it's ok." He feels Nigel stir and whines. "Don't go-"

"Just wanna take a look. I'm gonna get you some painkillers." Nigel gently extricates himself and disappears to the bathroom, returning a moment later with a first aid kit. Even in the dim light Aiden can see he's got a black eye. Then he turns the overheads on and Aiden squints.

"It's the middle of the night," he grumbles.

"You'll let me fix you up," Nigel says, vehemently for the hour.

"You didn't wanna fix me up before."

"Darling," Nigel sighs, sitting down. "I heal faster, when I'm like that."

Aiden sighs. "I thought you weren't gonna change back."

"I couldn't, at the time." He unwraps Aiden's wrist and frowns down at it thoughtfully. "This doesn't look as bad as I thought. The bruising makes it look worse."

"Yeah, I think my knife in his side made it hard to bite it off." He bares his own teeth when he says it.

Nigel sighs and leans down to kiss his knuckles. "Baby boy. You did so well."

"I lived, thanks to you. What happened-? What happened to Darko?"

Nigel considers, then sighs. "He gave me an out."

"Out of the pack?" Aiden asks. Confirms, really.

"Better to be run out than ask to get out, right?"

Aiden snorts. "If you say so."

Nigel watches him, then he sighs and goes back to carefully tending his wrist. Aiden finds he isn't ready to talk about this after all. Nigel's touch turns clinical, and he tapes up any of the deeper cuts and then wraps the wound again.

"Sleep," he urges Aiden softly.

Aiden bites his lip, then takes the first aid kit off him. "When I've done you." He's shocked, when he starts cleaning Nigel's cuts - they really are all shallower than he'd expected. "Before, in the shower, you were so bloody..."

"Loupes-garoux," Nigel shrugs.

"Well, I'm doing this anyway."

That makes him smile. He touches Aiden's cheek gently. "You really care."

"Oh no, this is all for the sex," Aiden mutters. "Done," he adds, patting at a plaster.

Nigel leans and kisses his cheek softly. "Thanks, pup."

That makes sense now too.

Aiden grasps Nigel's hair gently to keep him close. Nigel sighs. He hides his face in Aiden's neck and Aiden continues to stroke his hair. They can fight this out later. He's nearly queasy with relief.

"You still want me to come with you?" Nigel whispers.

"Yeah, I do," Aiden admits.

"Are you sure?"

"They're not gonna come after us, right?"

"I don't think Darko would let them."

"Okay," Aiden yawns. He can't do more of this tonight.

 Nigel doesn't seem further inclined either. They curl back up together with the lights off.

*

 Aiden groans when the sun finally creeps through the curtains the next morning. He feels hot and sore, and the pressing weight on top of him isn't doing much to alleviate either of those things. Nigel's weight usually calms him. He squirms a bit, and then nudges him gently.

"Babe."

Nigel grumbles. He slides off a bit but keeps an arm around him. Aiden sighs softly. Apparently they're still sleeping.

"Pup, why the fuck are you mad at me?" Nigel grumbles.

"Dunno, residual terror?"

With an exhausted sigh, Nigel shifts so he's facing Aiden, expression attentive. "You want to talk."

"Yeah, Nigel, I do."

"So let's talk, baby."

"Look. I want to start with I'm sorry, for following you when you warned me it was dangerous, but - seriously, Nigel, what the hell."

Silence considering, Nigel shrugs. "We're real. You came looking and you found what you wanted."

"It's a little hard to believe, is all. Nothing I've chased for a story has ever been more than a story – nor has it fucking chased me back."

"Well, you don't have to believe me."

"I sort of have to believe my own eyes and ears and hands, Nigel."

Nigel just blinks at him slowly, because apparently he doesn't know what Aiden wants from him. Aiden sighs again.

"Is is really as dangerous as the mob?"

"Darling, we're wolves."

"Well, most wolves I know of aren't man eaters!"

Nigel turns pensive at that. "It's a pact we made with tribes of old. A tradition. Outdated, pointless." He shrugs. "They think it makes them more than humans."

"You wanted to stop it," Aiden realizes at last that this is what all the arguing in Romanian has been about.

"I've been bored of it for years." Nigel shrugs.

"And you...how did you become the leader?"

"My father was. When I was of age I had to fight. I have to fight... whenever some hotshot decides to try for the position."

"The wolf at the door the other night?" Aiden murmurs.

Nigel sighs. "Some kid Darko has been warning me about for months. He was the one who found you at the club."

"Oh," Aiden murmurs. He remembers now – the familiar eyes.

Nigel nudges him closer. "He tried to snoop around, and I sent him running. That's why I wanted you to stay here."

Aiden grimaces. "I'm sorry I'm trouble."

"You are a fucking nightmare, beautiful."

Aiden blushes. The pride in Nigel's voice is flattering. "So last night, Darko -"

"Pretended to challenge me," Nigel murmurs.

"It looked pretty real."

"It was supposed to."

"Did the two of you plan that?"

"It was in the works."

Smart, Aiden thinks. Nigel touches his cheek and sighs.

"Anything else, pup?"

Weighing it in his mind, Aiden shifts closer. "How come you haven't left before now?"

Nigel sighs. "I don't know." He adds with a grim smile, "never really had much reason. And the pros outweighed the cons for a while."

"What were those?" Aiden asks, curious. Nigel gestures expansively at his apartment. "Fair," Aiden admits. "Does that mean Darko comes to evict you now?"

"I think he might give me a chance to get my bearings."

"Good."

Nigel rubs up his side. "Give us a chance," he adds. Despite all his residual bewilderment and exhaustion, the words warm Aiden. He tips their foreheads together. The smile it triggers from Nigel is enough to convince him this is okay. He's always been a dumb fuck that way. He can't help it. And Nigel is very compelling. Aiden shivers when he tucks his face into Aiden's neck and inhales softly.

"You smell like me," he whispers against Aiden's jaw, "it's like a fucking high."

"Good," Aiden says weakly. Nigel's snuffling and touching is sending all the wrong signals. It's making Aiden's senses go crazy. He whines a little.

Nigel goes still. "Baby boy?"

"C'you touch me?" Aiden whispers.

"Are you sure you're -"

"What?"

"Feeling well enough?"

"Jesus, I just almost died, Nigel." Aiden sighs. "Please?"

"You don't have to say please, I was just checking you were all right."

"I'd be better if you were inside me."

Nigel nods, then kisses his throat. "What if you were inside me?"

Aiden breathes out. "Please."

"Be gentle with me, won't you?" Nigel grins.

"Treat you like a prince? I will."

They bend together in a few slow, smooth kisses. Aiden spears his hands through Nigel's hair. He groans softly when Nigel pulls him gently on top of him; stretches out, lets his full weight down. He forgets sometimes that he's nearly as tall as Nigel. It's heady now to arch against him and feel him clasp Aiden's shoulder blades gently.

He rocks their hips together slowly. Breaths stalling, Nigel arches up. "I can't think when I touch you," he growls softly.

"Good, that's the point."

Aiden starts kissing his golden bared skin. He smiles when Nigel's vocalizations subside into soft, pleased rumbles. Aiden craves more of the same. He starts back to tug down his shorts and Nigel lifts up to help. In the morning light he looks lean and sharp, bruised and battered and immensely hungry. Aiden feels hungry, too.

He trails his tongue up the underside of Nigel's cock and he's pleased with the answering hiss. He gently touches his fingers to Nigel's inner thigh. He can feel him watching.

"Relax," he murmurs.

"I'm relaxed."

"You're something." Aiden licks him again.

Nigel bites his lip. "Baby- more?"

"Lube," Aiden nods.

Nigel touches his cheek with a faint sigh before he reaches for it. Aiden rubs his cheek against the soft skin. He takes the lube off Nigel and leans down to lick his cockhead slowly.

He makes a gorgeous noise. Aiden starts to slick his fingers as he closes his mouth over him to suck gently. He circles his pucker with one gentle fingertip, eases off to let him relax as he starts to press in. Nigel's soft noise steals his breath. He arches weakly as Aiden grips his thigh, then holds perfectly still for Aiden's slow thrust. He lets out a rough, slow breath.

"How does it feel?" Aiden whispers.

"Fine, darling, keep going-"

Fine. Aiden bites his lip and searches his face. He looks unkempt, a little wild - and lost. He's not used to being this vulnerable, Aiden realizes. He's trusting him so much.

Free hand soothing on his thigh, Aiden gently twists deeper. Nigel's breathing turns shocked. He gasps when Aiden thrusts gently. Aiden glances back at his own fingers and nearly echoes the gasp just at the sight. He licks distractedly as he spreads his fingers a little; watches Nigel's body give with careful persuasion. Everything is slow and quiet.

When Aiden turns his palm upward and searches, though, Nigel starts to make small, concentrated noises. They go through him like darts.

"Okay?" he breathes, watching Nigel; the way he's half hard, flushed and coiled with tension, legs spread and hands fisted in the covers.

"I think so."

Aiden presses deeper and gasps when his fingers slip in to the webbing, triggering another little groan from Nigel. They're both shaking slightly.

"Baby," Nigel mutters, "c'you pick it up a bit?"

Aiden nods, hair sticking to his forehead. "Figures you're bossy even from this angle," he laughs.

Nigel smiles slowly. "Fucking always, baby boy. Get up here and give me your cock."

Aiden whines softly. "Yeah, god." He twists his fingers again carefully before he moves up Nigel's body.

Nigel claims a kiss. His hands slide down to Aiden's ass as they shift into position and Aiden braces his knees and lines up. His hand guides and presses, and then he's sinking in slow.

Their eyes lock together, both faces flushed. Nigel bares his teeth, but his eyes flutter closed. "Baby," he groans.

"Mmhm-" he feels so tight, soft inside, Aiden can hardly speak. It's more than he'd prepared himself for. It's been a while, but it feels different somehow. Shit, everything to do with Nigel feels different.

Aiden gathers himself as he drops his elbows down either side of Nigel's shoulders and kisses him as he bottoms out.

"Make me feel so good," he mumbles against his lips.

Nigel curls his arms around his neck with a soft, purring noise of agreement. Aiden lets himself be urged faster. It's too good to hold back. Nigel is breathing hard against his mouth, nails digging in gently.

He inhales again, as deeply as before. When his hips jolt faster, Nigel groans through his teeth and hitches his knees higher.

"Fuck, Aiden-"

"Want you to come, Daddy."

"It might take more than thirty seconds, gorgeous," Nigel grins at him; slides his hands back down to his ass and gently tugs. "Come on, stop worrying and fuck me."

Aiden nods and lets his hips kick. It makes him breathless again; feeds the well of need inside him and makes it ask for more. He keeps his eyes fixed on Nigel. He's elegant and flushed and fierce even like this. Aiden is besotted.

"Nigel," he whispers. "I've never felt like this before."

He makes a little half noise like a laugh at Aiden's words, but he's nodding in agreement, and he cranes up to press their foreheads together. Aiden caresses his thighs, pressing as close as he can get. Finally, he leans up on his fists and bucks faster, and Nigel tips his head back with a snarl.

It's all gasps and tensing muscles. He's a vision like this, straight from Aiden's dreams. His filthiest fantasies. He looks down and Nigel's body draws him back in with every rock back, everything slick and flush, his cock heavy and pink just from Aiden inside him. The earlier arguments seem far away.

Between his groans, Nigel's fingers creep down Aiden's cleft, the pressure a teasing rub against his hole as he fucks him faster.

"Next time, Daddy," he whispers.

"This suits me fine, Aiden."

He can't help it, his hips jerk harder. Nigel makes a wounded noise, but he grips Aiden tighter.

"You like that baby? Like that I love having your cock inside me?"

"Yes, yes, I love it."

"Good," Nigel whispers, "because I do."

It sends a shiver down Aiden's spine. He kisses Nigel messy and urgent. Their fingers and nails grasp and scrape. Nigel's noises leak from their sealed lips as Aiden snaps his hips forward over and over, fast and helpless into shuddering heat. He wants to make it good, but he only wants more, and more, and faster.

Starting to pant open-mouthed and vocal, Nigel doesn't seem to have any complaints. Aiden isn't sure who will come first. He hopes it's Nigel. He wants to feel it. Just the thought makes him groan. Everything is hot and slick and soft, pure sensation and sound. Nigel's hand slides up into his hair suddenly and Aiden feels him squeeze around his cock.

"Yesss," Aiden hisses.

"Aiden-"

He lets himself be pulled roughly down. His movements get stuttered; Nigel is pushing his other hand down between them to stroke himself and his body seems to almost draw tighter. He presses his face against Aiden's neck and bites.

Aiden snaps his hips in response and shivers when he feels Nigel's body clamp around him and his release against his belly. It feels like everything he could ever need. Aiden rocks through it, and stutters a gasp when Nigel works his hips up.

"Come on gorgeous- you now."

"Yeah, Daddy," he mutters. He loves that Nigel is shivering faintly. It's enough to push him even higher. "Nigel-" He comes inside him with a few long thrusts, all the air bursting from his lungs.

Nigel pulls him down against his chest. Aiden can't stop squirming, overcome by the feeling, both of Nigel's body and his love. He's dizzy with it.

"Fuck," he whispers, "holy shit." He can suddenly recognize his own. Nigel is stroking lazily through his hair and he tucks his head under Nigel's chin. "You okay?" he whispers.

Nigel nods. "Perfect, gorgeous."

Aiden shifts so their bodies separate, but he can't quite move away: Nigel doesn't seem ready to let go. He murmurs something under his breath in Romanian.

"Mm?" Aiden nuzzles at him.

"The mate I need," Nigel replies softly.

It takes Aiden off guard, the honesty in his voice. He lifts his head to meet his eyes.

Nigel is smiling, eyes narrow crescents of pleasure. It doesn't feel too fast, or wrong. It doesn't feel anything but right. Aiden wants to laugh at the sheer madness of the situation. It's hitting him now, once the adrenaline has faded. Being with Nigel though... that doesn't feel mad. It feels inevitable.

It feels safe, too. He strokes over his chest absently, well built and scarred. Aiden needs that to be more than just a feeling.

"What happens if we run into other... packs, if we go travelling?"

"They'll likely leave us alone, if we present no challenge."

"Likely?"

"If they recognize me, it's because they've heard of me. If they've heard of me, they'll leave us alone." He sounds very sure.

"Okay." Aiden wonders how terrified most people are of Nigel, honestly. He knows how terrified he was of him. But Nigel is a lazy predator at the moment. Satisfied and saving his strength. Aiden still thinks they should leave town; but Nigel seems to be in no great hurry.

"I've got a place in Vienna," Nigel says then, as if his mind were following a similar path.

"I've never been."

"Want to?"

"You can take me anywhere, Daddy," Aiden drawls.

The answering chuckle makes him vibrate on Nigel's chest. "Okay baby. I'll book us tickets."

They both quiet after that, in mutual satisfaction. Eventually they peel out of bed to get showered, strip the bed, and start packing. Aiden laughs at how particular Nigel is about his clothing. He didn't expect it, somehow. Especially after the - fur.

He wonders how much time Nigel spends as a wolf when he's alone. Wonders how human his understanding is, in that form. It seems rude to ask. But he truly wants to know. In some ways, he'd felt an even deeper connection with the wolf who'd watched over him.

He fidgets over his bag, debating. Nigel comes up and leans in, scenting the back of his neck. His hand on Aiden's belly; his heat against his back. It's so intimate. Aiden wonders what it means to him, to call Aiden his mate like he had.

"What's it smell like?" he whispers.

Nigel nuzzles him. "Hard to explain."

"Try?"

"It's like... familiar. Very warm and... everything that makes up you. Sometimes changes with your mood- it's been a little different while you were sick. Fucking... I don't know. Heavier."

"It tells you things about me."

"Sure. It's communication, I guess."

"I don't - know how to speak your language," Aiden murmurs.

Nigel's hands pass gently up his arms. He presses his nose behind Aiden's ear. "That's okay. I can speak yours."

Aiden shivers at tone and gesture alike. A smile touches his mouth when Nigel kisses his neck. It's gentle, not suggestive. His hands are cherishing.

"We can get a train direct from Bucharest, stop off in Budapest to break up the journey if you like. Or, keep going until we get to Vienna."

"Let's just keep going until we're -" safe, he thinks.

"Okay. It'll be an overnighter anyway." Nigel kisses his cheek again and pulls away. "We've got an hour, I'll call a cab."

Aiden nods, gathering up clothes for the shower. Nigel kisses his cheek. Aiden watches him turn away and begin to pack a bag.

He goes to get showered, gathering up his things from the counter, stopping to look at himself in the mirror. He should feel trepidation about going to a new country with a man - a fucking werewolf no less - that he barely knows. As it is, he's just determined to know him. He can't feel afraid.

Resolved, he showers and goes out to find Nigel smoking in the kitchen. He's nudging his phone with an idle finger. "Okay babe?" he asks Aiden.

Aiden nods. "Ready to move on." He loves the crooked, sharp smile Nigel flashes him, silver hair falling into his eyes.

"Me too, baby boy. Let's get out of here."

They pick up their bags and downstairs, Nigel lights a cigarette and signals for a cab. He keeps a protective hand on Aiden the entire journey to the station. It's more reassuring than Aiden thought it would be.

It's quiet in the streets still. Nigel gets them coffee and food before they collect their tickets and head through customs and to their platform. When they're seated in a train car, they look at one another for a long moment.

"All right?" Nigel murmurs.

The thing that's hard to swallow is that he is. He's so happy. He looks around the compartment, and then leans into Nigel with a sigh.

Nigel presses his cheek against Aiden's hair. "Just you and me now, kid."

"Just the way I like it." He leans and kisses him. Nigel grins and gently scruffs his hair.

"Top bunk or bottom?"

"Aren't we sharing?"

"If you like, gorgeous. It'll be cramped."

Aiden pouts a little. "I'll just sleep on top of you."

"Okay." Nigel kisses his ear. "Sounds good."

"Are you ready for bed now?" Aiden teases before they settle in to ride.

*

They spend a few hours in a travel stupor, chatting back and forth and eating. Eventually, Nigel orders a bottle of champagne to their cart with a twinkle in his eye, and the rest of the days travel goes quickly after that. They sleep crammed in the bottom bunk, one on top of the other, and the next morning they're drinking coffee when their stop gets called.

Aiden bites back a dopey little grin. Vienna. "Why do you have a place here, anyway?"

"I like it here. Good art museums."

"Any churches I should see?" Aiden teases softly.

"Lots, gorgeous. I'll take you."

Aiden loves him. So much.

When they're off the train, he walks tucked under his arm, his own secured under Nigel's jacket against his back. It looks beautiful this way; more so than without the contact. The city is still waking up in the dawn, and they can walk unimpeded through the pale buildings. Finally Nigel hails a lone cab. He seems entirely at ease. He's barely sworn all day. His pleasure is infectious. Aiden is tense with merely the anticipation of seeing his flat here. What it's like, where it is. What they'll have to explore.

When they pull up to a classy apartment block in a quieter part of town, Nigel takes both of their bags and walks them inside, nodding at the desk attendant in the foyer and calling for the elevator. It's an old-fashioned one, with a metal gate, and Nigel smirks at him as they ride up to the top floor.

Inside the heavy, carved door, the apartment is a smooth blend of authentic moldings and features with Nigel's preferred modcons.

"Yours, not the pack's?" Aiden questions.

"Mine," Nigel nods. "I had to leave it when my dad died."

"So you lived here before you had to take over the pack-?"

"On and off."

He can see, looking around, the signs of a benign neglect. Dusty corners, faded curtains. "It's amazing."

That makes Nigel smile. "Thanks, gorgeous. There's no food in, of course. And it needs a cleaning," he continues.

"Take out," Aiden supplies.

"And a Dust Buster," Nigel agrees. Then he promptly backs Aiden up against the nearest wall and kisses up his neck.

Startled into laughter, Aiden just tilts into it, a flash flood of need going through him at Nigel's touch.

"Baby boy," he mumbles. "My boy."

"Yes, Daddy," Aiden whispers.

"I need you now," Nigel tells him.

"I need you too. Show me how much."

Hands fasten around his waist and lift. Aiden wraps his arms around his neck and, when he feels Nigel brace him, folds his thighs up around Nigel's waist.

"Going to take me, are you?"

"Unless you object."

"Who, me?" Aiden nibbles at his ear thoughtfully. "Nah."

"That's very fucking reassuring."

"Take me now, Daddy?" he replies dryly.

Nigel nips at his lip and carries him into the bedroom. Aiden grins the entire time, even when he's dropped onto the bare mattress. He giggles helplessly when Nigel starts to disrobe him with haste. "You've seen the merchandise, you know."

"I don't know what your point is, princess."

"I mean, the hurrying is flattering." Fuck, Aiden is fucking giddy.

"What can I say, a night without you is too much."

Well, if he wasn't hard before... Nigel strips down his jeans and grins.

"Fuck, darling, you're so pretty."

"Show me."

"Gladly." The shirt goes next, stretching slightly as it ruffles his curls out of place. Nigel bends and crests Aiden's chest and shoulders with slow kisses.

Aiden unfastens the buttons of his shirt, though it's impossible to push off his shoulders with how tight it is across his biceps. Instead, he runs his hands through the silvering hair there, the well-formed muscles. Nigel likes it, he can tell. It makes Aiden think once again of him sleek and powerful in his other form. He shouldn't find that so compelling maybe. But he does. Not like this- with Nigel over him, he's commanding and irresistible- but being guarded by him while he was sick had felt insanely safe. Even bloodied, he's so strong.

He's still kissing down Aiden's chest, tongue dipping below his navel and down between his hips. Aiden sighs and lifts into it. Nigel's big hands drape over his thighs, petting and spreading. Aiden lets his knees fall open.

Nigel drags his teeth against the inside of his thigh briefly to make him jolt. And jolt he does; but he loves it. He breathes Nigel's name; fists gently at his hair. Lets himself be spoiled. Nigel is good at it.

His mouth searches next. He takes Aiden into his mouth and sucks languidly, teasing in and outs. Aiden gasps his name, loud and shameless. He's stretched thin between the more direct contact - Nigel sucking slick and hot down his length - and the skimming, open mouthed kisses to the root of his cock.

"Give me what you've got, Daddy."

He groans when Nigel licks briefly at his taint, then whirls his tongue up the length of him again before he pulls back to lean for his bag. Aiden takes over, stroking himself with short, rough strokes. That makes Nigel stall for a moment, eyes snagged by the movement.

"Fuck, Aiden..."

"Hurry up then."

"Not an incentive."

"Making me ride those big hands? It's an incentive to me," Aiden breathes.

Nigel's teeth flash with the brief, appetitive curl of his lip, and then he's back, flipping them smoothly so Aiden is astride his hips. "And this?"

"Even more of an incentive," Aiden purrs, rolling his hips gently.

Nigel slicks up his fingers. "Come closer."

Complying, he catches Nigel's dry hand and sucks his fingers into his mouth. He plays with them with his tongue as Nigel slips a finger beneath him...inside him. They both make matching, breathless noises.

"Nigel," he whispers. "Always so good." Hips shifting automatically, he rocks slowly down into the smooth surge of his finger, squirming when Nigel drops his other hand to pinch gently at his nipples. "Fuck, Nigel, yes-"

"That's it, baby. Let me see you fuck my hand like you promised."

Winded by the words, Aiden groans and bucks his hips down steadily. Nigel teases his nipples, drops down to stroke his shaft, giving Aiden another finger to push inside himself when he squirms.

"Oh fuck- Daddy..." he drops his head back and rocks harder.

"Good boy," Nigel grits.

He keeps working his cock, slick and smooth from his leaking. It's not enough though - they're not close enough. They can never be close enough for Aiden.

"Nigel, give me more-"

He watches Nigel's muscles shift as he lifts him again, fingers slipping free. He strokes some lube generously onto his cock and guides Aiden closer in his lap, teeth bared when he tilts up to kiss him. Aiden lets himself be lined up and slowly breached.

"Oh fuck..." He pushes down greedily as he lets Nigel lick into his mouth. He's so full in seconds, maybe too quick, but he doesn't let Nigel steady him before he lifts and sinks again in one fluid motion.

He feels big hands wrap around to his back. Nigel swears softly into his mouth. "Fuck, baby boy," he repeats.

Aiden fists his hair and picks up his pace with a cry. Nigel's breath is ragged, his fingers pressing tight enough to bruise. It's a smooth, clockwork rhythm between their bodies, Nigel's hands tugging, their hips moving seamlessly together. They feel like one creature when he closes his eyes. And then Nigel twists to bite at his throat and Aiden feels like more than he's ever been. He thinks that for this one person, he'd be happy to be consumed. And Nigel does consume him, fucking him slick and slow, kissing and biting and cherishing him with all of it.

"I love you," Aiden babbles against his lips.

Nigel slows; grips his back and jaw with such a fierce need that Aiden can taste it. "Aiden - from the second I fucking saw you I knew you were mine."

"You were - mean to me the - first time you saw me," Aiden pants.

"You thought that was mean?" Nigel grins.

Aiden bites at his jaw. "Don't slow down."

He gasps at the renewed snap of Nigel's hips; the grip he gets on Aiden to pound up until him until he's insensible with how good he feels. Eyes closed, mouth open. Head tipped back as his hair sticks to his cheeks. He can hardly think, can only breathe and moan for more.

Nigel holds him tighter each time he moans his name. Finally he cups Aiden's face in both hands, hips slowing slightly but his thrusts going achingly deep and punctuated as he whispers against his lips.

"I love you, Aiden."

His lips speak of love and his body of possession and Aiden responds to both. Suddenly he's so close; choked with emotion. He clings to Nigel like he might drown.

"Love you," he gasps softly. "Gonna come- please, daddy, touch me-"

"Baby, hold on for me -" Aiden whines in protest. "Just hold on -" Nigel kisses him again, one fist closing tightly around his shaft and stroking, already a mess of precome.

Aiden makes a loud, helpless noise of need into his mouth, hips moving, pleasure drawing him tight. Nigel's responding growl vibrates between their lips as he thrusts up into the squeeze of Aiden's body.

"I'm- Daddy-" he clutches at his back as the first flood of it jolts him. He shakes through the rest of it, wave after wave of pleasure.

Nigel inside of him and all around him feels like current of heat and light running through him. He wants to drink it down and breathe it in and drown in it always. And when Nigel comes a heartbeat later, he holds him close. Feeling the heat of him deep inside is so intense; Aiden feels claimed and desperately wanted.

Nigel's teeth find his skin again. He nips softly over and over, still pressed deep inside Aiden for now.

Aiden groans softly and strokes through his shaggy hair. "I never asked - the bites from the other night - am I going to be...." he trails off, unsure.

Nigel pulls back, squinting at him curiously.

Aiden squirms. "Never mind, I watch too many movies."

"Oh-" Nigel smiles, and touches his cheek. "No, baby. It's genetic."

Aiden doesn't know whether to be relieved or not, and Nigel kisses him gently.

"You're not missing much, trust me."

"I just wondered -"

"What, baby boy?"

"You called me your mate, but I guess I'm not really."

"Of course you are." He laughs softly, shifting so he can bear them both down to the mattress. "It's not about biology, pup. It's a choice. And I choose you every goddamn day."

Aiden's heart beats more fiercely for a moment. He bites his lip. "Really?"

"Fucking really."

Hands smoothing through Aiden's hair, he kisses him again, lingering now. They stay wrapped in each other, and eventually some blankets from the linen closet, listening to the city waking up outside. Nigel presses soft, occasional kisses on his neck and behind his ear. Aiden can feel the slow caress of his breath, knows he's reading his scent.

"What's it smell like?" he mumbles, coziness making him heavy.

"Me," Nigel rumbles back.

That's more comforting than Aiden imagined. He imagines Nigel agrees. Smiling at the thought, he curls closer, rolling himself on top of Nigel to pillow his cheek against his chest. The fur there is just long enough to curl his fingers through, and remember.

"Do you shift more when you're alone?" he whispers.

Nigel shrugs. "Sometimes."

"I just mean... don't think you can't around me," Aiden shrugs softly.

"Thank you," Nigel murmurs. He noses into Aiden's hair again, and they're quiet.

"I could use a nap," Aiden mumbles.

"Didn't you sleep well on the train?" Nigel teases gently.

"Yes, rumbling over half of Europe was so restful. And I think I'm hung over."

Nigel snickers. "Poor pup. A nap it is."

Aiden leans up to kiss him slowly. "You'll stay too?"

"Of course, gorgeous. For as long as you'll fucking have me."

"Gonna be a long fucking time."

Aiden happily sleeps most of the morning away, waking sometime after noon to Nigel stepping out onto the little balcony Aiden hadn't noticed before. He hears the click of a lighter. Then, Nigel catches his eye through the ajar glass door and smiles.

"Hungry?"

"I could eat."

"There's a drawer of menus in the kitchen. Most of the places are probably still around." He's still poking at his phone. "What do you feel like?"

Aiden watches him blow smoke rings. "Meat," he grins.

Nigel chokes on his cigarette smoke with his laugh. "Well, if you say so, baby." Then his phone rings and he scowls at it. "Sorry, I have to -"

Aiden smiles and nods, watching him start pacing as he talks. He can tell from the tone of Nigel's voice that it's Darko. He seems sheepish, agitated, humbled. Aiden goes for the menus, but puts them back down almost immediately and just watches him. When Nigel finally smiles, Aiden's heart lightens. Their eyes meet through the open door.

"Mulțumesc, Darko," he mutters. "Yeah, asshole," he adds. "I will." He hangs up with a sigh, taking another long drag on his filter before he throws the butt over the balcony edge. Then he looks in at Aiden. "Pick your meat yet, princess?"

He grins cheekily back at Nigel. "Pretty sure, yeah. Not sure about my dinner, though."

"Incorrigible," Nigel snorts.

"Come here and look at menus." When Nigel settles next to him Aiden kisses his shoulder. "What did Darko say?"

"Mostly that I'm a dumbass."

"Maybe he's the dumbass," Aiden grumbles.

"He saved our fucking asses in that situation, Aiden," Nigel reproves gently.

Aiden shrugs in acknowledgment. "What else? Did you tell him where we were?"

"No, but he probably knows." When Aiden looks skeptical, Nigel murmurs, "this is my den. He's my best friend."

That mollifies him a little. He offers Nigel a smile. "As long as he doesn't want to visit."

"Not fucking likely." Nigel kisses Aiden's neck again. "I'm keeping you all to myself."

"Promise?"

"Except maybe the museum guards."

Aiden snorts. "You did promise museums."

"And churches." He nudges Aiden. "And you shall have both."

"As long as I have you."

"I can assure you, you do."

He has more than he'd bargained for...but everything he wants. Smiling at the thought, he points at a menu. "I want pizza."

"You can have it."

"And then I want more sex."

"You can have that too."

"Excellent." Aiden wraps his arms around Nigel's neck and tackles him to the mattress. He lets him, which just goes to show how much he likes Aiden. "I changed my mind," he says. "Sex first."

"Again?" Nigel laughs.

"Is that a no?"

"No, never." Nigel rolls on top of him and shows him it's definitely not a no.

"Ooh, Daddy." They grin into each other's mouths. Aiden is besotted. He fists into Nigel's hair and kisses him until neither of them can catch their breath.

Nigel is grasping him with his hands, hauling him close. It's never going to be quite close enough. Aiden wants their cells to merge.

I love you, he thinks. He nips at his mouth gently and Nigel nips back, something soft and fond.

"Sweet boy."

"Your boy."

"Yes, mine."

Adam rubs their cheeks together, stubble scraping faintly. "Lupul meu," he whispers in careful Romanian.

That elicits something like a purr. Nigel's whole body seems to soften; wrap more tightly. "I never thought I'd be able to tell anyone outside of the pack. It's good not to carry the weight of it, just for a while."

"Never think you can't tell me things. Never again."

"Darling, I was hiding the fact that I'm a werewolf."

Aiden snickers. "Well, if we got past that..." He grins when Nigel cups his face and kisses him hard.

"Ridiculous boy."

"You don't mean that."

"No, I suppose I mean something else. Wonderful, maybe."

"Aw." Aiden beams softly.

"Don't let it go to your head, you're still trouble."

"You're one to talk."

He shrugs, and they smile into one another's eyes. They spend a while longer fooling around before finally gathering enough momentum to go out for groceries and take out.

Nigel holds his hand, and Aiden leans his head on his shoulder. It's such a careless, casual intimacy. He's never had it with anyone else, not like this. He adores it. He adores Nigel. He adores this first sight of Vienna. He hopes they can stay.

Nigel seems to think they can. And really, Aiden just wants to stay with his loup-garou, walking hand in hand in the cool, orange night.

//

Eight months later, Aiden's comic is released. The dedication page reads, in Romanian, "did I tame a wolf, or did the wolf tame me?"

Am îmblânzit un lup sau m-a îmblânzit lupul?

In the end, it doesn't matter at all.