Of Wolves and Men (Closed for Apollo Wilde and Ask For More)

Did she just offer to....? This assignment was getting more and more complicated by the hour. Firstly he confesses his feelings, which she rejects, then Ada turns around and says she will help him with his urges? Wayne was the Head of the Enforcers, an expert at seduction, and women still had the ability to confuse him. He felt like a wolf chasing his own tail sometimes.

"Uh....thanks," he was unsure how to respond. "I should be ok for a couple of days. Big fights like these take all the aggression and madness out of me for a while. Especially when I'm seriously injured."

His thoughts turned towards the press conference. The political ramifications of Remus' plan were devastating. They couldn't let the public know the truth right now. Maybe one day, but not right now.

"Can you stall? Just say you are still investigating? This is turning into a political situation - if I was to call in representatives from the reservation they would still need at least two days to get here. As you said, I can't be revealed to the public, nor the rest of your police force. I have to protect my cover.'

As he said police, he remembered something else.

"I'm still concerned about the smell of your clothes the other day. I'm convinced I smelt a Lycan - one that I didn't recognise. Unlikely as it sounds, Remus may have been able to place someone in the police force."

He winced again as his head started to ache. All this thinking was not good for his damaged body.

"In this state I can't protect you from anything. I would ask Wade but he's barely stronger than I am right now. You have to tread very carefully today. If anything happened to you......'

Why was he getting emotional again?

She had. And she still felt awkward about it. Because…really? How desperate did that sound? “Oh, well, if you get tired of banging random strangers, bang me, a slightly less random stranger?” Her face flushed as he stammered his response. Just…wow. “Well, that couldn’t have gotten any more awkward,” she said, trying to laugh it off. Maybe if she thought about it hard enough, it’d just get funnier. And really kind of was. But, on the same hand, now she was curious. “So…” she trailed off for a few moments. “I mean, at the time, my reasoning was sound. I’m right here, and it’s not like you’d run the risk of blowing your cover here, and you know me, somewhat, and I’m not going to come chasing after you at the worst times,” she blurted out, then flushed deeper when she realized she had said it out loud.

“Oh my God. Kill me now,” and she buried her face in her hands. She must seem like such a spaz to him! It was only when he mentioned the conference that her professional demeanor snapped back into place. “I don’t know if I can do that, Wayne. There’s a saying here – ‘Shit rolls downhill.’ It’s coming down on my boss from up above because it’s coming down on them from the politicians and now it’s coming down to me. Chief White does his best, and I’m grateful that he’s put this much faith in me, but the department’s corrupt.” Her full lips pressed together, as if she had tasted something bitter. “When I was down in the tombs looking at the past few years worth of homicides, it’s clear that one gang, one drug, has been behind all of this. And they keep getting away because they’re smart. They grease the right palms and have enough flunkies to take the heat for them. I think there are crooked cooks in the department, too. These perps get shuffled from jail to jail, prison to prison, and they just…never quite end up doing the time they’re supposed to. It’s really so obvious that I’m embarrassed it took me this long to find it,” and she laughed sheepishly, running a hand through her frizz of hair. “I just don’t know how high it goes or who I can really trust. It used to be that I could work with my old partner, but I haven’t heard from her in weeks.”

That was…odd.

She suddenly stood up, bolted to her phone. Opening it, she scrolled down her list of calls. The last time her and Miyuki spoke was when the latter had just moved in. “Call me when you get settled,” Ada had asked. And now….She shook her head. “It’s a little too convenient that they slipped Rain in when they did. He comes from a different city, and he’s really too high ranking to be paired with me.” Granted, she hadn’t talked to him since that day – and that seemed to be when Wayne smelled the Lycan on her clothing. But that could be from anyone! “I don’t want to doubt your sense of smell, but it could be anyone. I can’t go jumping to conclusions right now – I’m in a bad enough spot as it is.”

Protect.

One little word. She turned to look at him, her dark brown eyes softening. “And who said you were protecting me to begin with…?” her voice was soft as she leaned over him, her fingertips brushing a fringe of hair from his face. “I seem to recall someone that went out of his way to avoid me when all of this started.” A smile tickled the corners of her mouth. “I’m flattered; I’ve never had anyone offer to protect me.” She sat up from the bed again, determined to try and get her mess of a day started. “Tell you what: when all of this is over, and I mean really over, why don’t you ask me out on a date? That way…you can know if what you’re feeling is real, or just a product of almost dying.”

She made her way to the shower without looking behind her. In a few moments, he could hear the downpour of water and curls of steam crept around the corners of the open door.

___________

Alexander Rain was generally a patient man. He had to be. It went along with the whole “calculating” part of his personality. It was how he survived.

It wasn’t hard to give Miyuki enough money to warrant a transfer. Money was easy to come by, easy to get rid of. Miyuki had her reasons for leaving – she’d been on the take for years. But, unlike other cops who flaunted their corrupt nature, Miyuki lived low key, hoarding her money, dreaming of an escape, of a day where she could just walk away from everything, her and her girlfriend. It had been Alexander who partnered Miyuki with Ada to begin with. He’d heard rumors of a vibrant young detective, one who had ideals, who believed in Lycan equality. He’d followed her progress through the academy, and kept a close eye on her as she developed.

Funny thing was, there really was nothing particularly special about Adalia Clarke. He thought it was a mistake when he was assigned to her. Her idealism, he thought, would fade. And she always skirted coming close to working with the Reservations, researched into it. Followed each injustice and was at each demonstration and raised money for the ‘Cause.’ So she really was no different from any other liberal in the area. But Remus had told him to watch this one. Maybe it had something to do with some part of her history. Or maybe it really was just that simple unflappable optimism and push for equality.

He was patient enough to know he’d get the answer one day.

He was intrigued to see how today would play out. He was sitting at his desk now, sipping slowly at his coffee. He hated the stuff in the office, and had brought his own in, as he usually did.

The thing about people, no, Lycans too, was that their idea of equality usually meant someone was still on the bottom. And though he knew that Lycans were superior, he didn’t always agree with Remus. But Remus needed him. He needed someone on the inside, someone intelligent. Alexander really owed no favors to Remus; there were no terrible secrets, no family to protect. And words like “money” and “power” were as useful to him as mold on cheese. What he wanted now was information. Knowledge. What was it about this one woman?

“Good morning!”

Well, didn’t she sound chipper? He set down his coffee, grinned, and stood up. Speak of the devil.

The more Ada talked, the more worried Wayne became. He could barely stay awake as she vocalised her thoughts about the Police department and possible corruption. Regardless, he listened as best he could, and his concerns became more serious. But first, he had to rest and recover. As she got up from the bed, he drifted off once again.

---

He woke gently, remembering his situation. Turning to look at the clock, it was approaching midday - even though the curtains were drawn he could see the sunlight pushing through. His body felt much better though; sitting up Wayne gently pulled up one the bandages surrounding his midriff and looked underneath. The bruising was still there but it was much less, and most of his cuts had healed apart from the very deep ones. There was still pain but it was lessened. Getting gingerly out of bed, he padded into the kitchen slowly and extracted some meat from the fridge. Wolfing down three choice cuts in seconds, he washed it down with water from the tap. His hunger sated, he crawled back into bed.

---

Three hours later, Wayne was up and pacing around Ada's apartment. The events of yesterday and the information she had given him in the morning had made him realise that they were heavily outnumbered - the two of them had neither the strength nor power to be able to take on the combined forces of Remus and his underlings, the gang that he was working with, and any crooked cops on the police force. With this in mind, Wayne had got on the phone and made arrangements to get extra help on their side. Remus wasn't the only one who had trusted lieutenants. In the meantime he had to make sure Ada would be safe - from his earlier conversation it was obvious she didn't realise how important her role was in this complicated affair. Protecting her until the help arrived was now his first priority. Well, second after finding some decent clothes to wear.

---

A quick trip back to his hotel had solved that problem. Cleaning himself up had helped too - it was a human need that Wayne fully embraced. Some Lycans didn't appreciate it, but Wayne had always preached to his friends and officers that they needed to maintain some semblance of humanity if they were ever going to have a chance to return back to the cities.

There was another reason for going back to his hotel. Wayne had specifically packed a handgun and silver ammunition - previously he was loathe to use it, but, having experienced the effects of Guardian first hand, the extra firepower had become a necessity. He had barely survived the last fight, and he wanted to be better prepared next time. With Ada possibly at risk, he wanted her to be packing silver ammunition as an equaliser.

Making his way out of the hotel, he sent a text to Ada:

On my way to the station. Will find a spot nearby to observe

“Nothing is to happen to her.” The voice was low, nearly guttural. “If there is any violence, it’s not from my people.”

Alexander cradled his cell phone against his ear as he took another slow sip from his coffee. His sensitive ears caught the sound of Ada’s heels as she approached the station door.

“That’s her now,” he said, “I need to go.”

“Remember: nothing is to happen to her. Cover her if anything does happen. If anything, that’ll make us look better. The war is coming, but not yet.”

Hanging up, Alexander stepped from the break room, still unseen by Ada.

Ada’s “good morning” virtually echoed through the empty station. Her usually buoyant hair was pulled back into a braided bun, elegant and authoritative. She looked from left to right, right to left. There wasn’t so much as the clacking of keys on a keyboard. Walking over to her desk, she set down her purse. Well, that was just…odd. Downright unsettling, even. She’d never seen the station this empty in all of her years there. Granted, nothing this BIG had ever come down the pipeline before, either.

“Just my luck,” she mused to herself. She sat down, resisting the urge to nervously fidget. She’d gone over what she was going to say in her head a thousand times on the way there, and decided to run through it yet again, because, well, why not?

“…Everyone’s either been assigned security, or they’re out patrolling.” Ada jumped, startled by Alexander’s sudden approach, and then sighed. Jumpier than she wanted to be – it had to be because of the strange silence in the station. Even with all that she knew, what Wayne had added, there was something about the station, even like this, that made her feel…if not quite safe, at least protected. Here, she knew every nook and cranny. Worse case scenario, she knew how to vanish within its hallways, and sometimes that was the most important at the end of the day.

“Well, I guess that makes sense. I wish someone would have told me something,” she said, trying to look nonchalant as she leaned back in her chair.

Alexander wrinkled his nose, imperceptionally. “Reek” wasn’t the right word, but her nervousness rolled off of her in nearly tangible waves. It didn’t quite stink, but it was overwhelming. He took another sip of his coffee to clear his senses – that was troubling; that it was so strong off of her that it overwhelmed his ability to pick the smells apart. Not that he’d ever been too particularly good at using his senses in his human form, something that Remus’s associates found hilarious, and had gotten him harassed more than once about why he was in Remus’s inner circle.

Alexander was a bit of a "developmentally disabled" lycan - too much time spent as a "puppy" had stunted his lycan growth. The trade off? He was able to blend in flawlessly with humans; so much so that most lycans had a problem finding him as well - if they ever did. Transformed, he was a smaller lycan - weaker, wasn't able to really fight. And he loathed transforming, hated that what should have been a rush of ultimate power only came as a brief fizzle.

But Guardian had taken all of that away. He wasn't like those other addicts; constantly fighting for the next fix. No, he took it in small, small doses, enough for him to savor the change and to keep functioning without it.

Now, taking a slow deep breath, he allowed his nose to do the work. He stepped closer, coffee still in hand, to lean against the desk across from her. Now about 5 feet apart, he was able to better detect what was going on with her. Still the same case of nerves, her perfume, soap, fabric softener…a thin current of desire (that he had expected), and something…else that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. He could risk getting closer – and it’d probably be enjoyable for the both of them, the more that he thought about it. Ada was delightfully fun to play with.

“We did. Don’t you check your phone?” He took the opportunity to close that gap, moving to sit on the corner of her desk. Crossing his left leg over his right knee nonchalantly, he leaned forward. The strain of desire had picked up for her more, that was for sure. The other smell….something familiar, but he still couldn’t put his finger on it.

Looking up at him, she smiled, a little sheepishly. “I was out last night, once I finally got to bed. You’ve no idea how nerve-wracking this whole thing is. I say the wrong word, and bam, we run the risk of an urban war. Not exactly the most easy thing to deal with…” Drumming her fingers against the desk, she looked down at them for a moment. “I’m honored that the chief’s given me this assignment, but still, I wonder if I’m the best person for it. Let’s face it; even with as progressive”, and she surrounded the word with air quotes, “as we are nowadays, the public still has a hard time listening to a woman, and a nearly impossible time listening to a black one. I guess I’m the face of diversity for the department, but still, that’ll only get us so fa-“

She was cut off by Alexander quickly pressing his lips to hers. That’s what it was. It was another lycan on her – and even through the obvious shower she’d taken, his scent lingered on her. His senses weren’t sharp enough to figure out which lycan it may be – just that it was one that had close contact with her. She pushed away from him, her face flushed. Far from being violent, it was to get enough space between the two. He leaned back, trying to fight the smirk that he felt tickling the corners of his lips.

“Look, I don’t know what this is, but I’d really rather not get into it,” she said, her voice firm. That was enough of that. Her life was rapidly becoming far more complicated than she had wanted. Granted, a few days, maybe even weeks ago, she would have been all over Alexander’s…strange attractions. And then this mess with Wayne, and even though she had no reason to, no reason at all, she thought back on what he’d told her the night before, how he’d looked at her, how he kissed her, and it just…made everything else seem a little duller, a little false.

Huh. Maybe that’s just how police men worked – quick and aggressive.

Realistically, she couldn’t entertain romantic thoughts about Wayne. It just…wouldn’t, couldn’t, really work. And Alexander – she barely knew the guy, and he went from being totally invasive to completely cold. That wasn’t very attractive, either. She resisted the urge to wipe her lips, and instead, reaching into her purse, applied more lip gloss. She hoped the message would be clear.

“I don’t have time for this,” she added, her resolve stronger. “But it seems like you take great joy in taking me off guard. I don’t know how I feel about that.” Putting her gloss away, she retrieved a rollerball of fragrance and grazed the hollow of her throat and the backs of her ears with it.

“It was merely a good luck kiss. You know, like in ‘Star Wars’,” he said amiably. He’d gotten a closer look at what he was interested in. Not that it wasn’t unpleasant – perhaps, if given more time, and different circumstances, he’d be interested. But all he knew about her was from stacks of files and surveillance. The actual amount of time spent with her could only be boiled down to a few hours – and he wasn’t the type to aimlessly fuck. If anything, he avoided more intimate situations with a vengeance.

Her brows raised. “Uh…huh.” Her brows lowered. Standing, she pushed her chair out from behind her using her legs, and put some more distance between the two of them. Whatever, she thought to herself. She had a job to do.

She smiled a little, just to herself, as she made her way through the station, scrolling through her messages. The press conference wasn’t going to be held at the station; that much she had figured. It was more of a space issue than anything else. There should be a car waiting out back…She stopped at Wayne’s text. Well, look at that. Before she could move forward, she heard Alexander running to catch up behind her.

“I’ve been assigned to be your security,” he said, glibly, as he dashed in front of her down the hall. “So, if you will…”
____________

As she stood before the podium, she looked down, grasped the sides of the well worn wood, and began to speak. Making her voice as sonorous as possible, and keeping her face neutral, she explained to the sea of faces the nature of the murder. The long history of violence between Lycans and humans. Her commitment to bringing the perpetrator to justice, regardless of what race he was, human. And of a plea not to answer violence with violence, but with understanding.

The last words slipped from her, and she took a deep breath. Held it. Let it out. "I will be answering any questions that you may have, now."

In older times, it would have been the continuous white pops of flash bulbs. Now, it was un-blinking red eyes - digital cameras, news crews...From every angle, she was captured. Her descent from from the podium, the small gesture she made with her hand signifying that she was done with answering questions, and the broad back of Alexander as he lead her away.
___________

"I think that went rather well, don't you?"

"I guess," she sighed, undoing her hair. Alexander tensed, his eyes narrowing behind his glasses.

"What is it...?" she paused, her hands still in the frizz of her hair. Before she could say anything else, a hand clamped over her mouth. Before she could fight back, chloroform filled her nostrils and the world went black.

Even with Alexander's weakly heightened senses, he could still be caught by surprise. And though he could hear the approach, he wasn't prepared for a rag of chloroform to be slapped over his nose and mouth as well.

Speechless was a good word.

Once he'd left the hotel, Wayne had settled into a nondescript bar opposite the police station. Sparsely decorated, it was obvious that the proximity to the station was it's best selling point. Bizarrely it didn't seem to be frequented by the local law enforcement but that didn't surprise him. No doubt there was a seedy dive a couple of blocks away that the off duty policemen preferred. Drinking too close to work made it easier to be called back in an emergency, something that off duty cops hated. He'd settled into a bar stool, ordered a beer, and adjusted himself to look like a man who didn't want to be disturbed by the few patrons that did their best drinking before the sun went down. That is, until the TV in the corner started showing Ada's press conference.

She spoke clearly and powerfully, yet with a softness to her tone. It was obvious she'd been hung out to dry by her superiors, set up to perform an impossible task, but somehow Ada managed to get through it with a great deal of poise and decorum. They'd been working together the past few days and he felt that he'd managed to get a good read on her, but Wayne was still surprised as how well she handled the press, especially with the incessant questioning that followed. The truth was dangerous, but Ada made it seem matter of fact - an inevitable consequence of the history that preceded the event.

Tuning into his surrounding, it was clear that his sentiments weren't echoed amongst the drunkards in the bar. Wayne heard more than one insult before the conference was even finished - "Fucking monsters.......Goddamn beasts..." and more along those lines. Inwardly he was dismayed, but such attitudes were to be expected. Previous human regimes portrayed Lycans as monstrous killers for decades; even with the current softening stance there was still going to be a lot of hatred directed towards his kind. Especially now that a human had been murdered by one of them.

Once the conference had finished, Wayne tossed a few dollars on the bar and made his way to the door. Intuition told him that he needed a better place to keep an eye on proceedings.

------

A couple of minutes later he was back on the rooftops. With the bombshell now dropped on the city, Wayne knew that Ada's life would get very complicated from now on, and not in a good way. He needed a better vantage point just in case - she was now the most important player in Lycan-Human politics. The Lycan race needed her safe. Or that's what Wayne kept telling himself.

He leapt from roof to roof, his training ensuring that he made barely a sound before landing on top of the Police station. One advantage of these sprawling human cities was that it was much easier to be stealthy. On the reservation, it was almost impossible to move unnoticed unless it was the middle of the night. These big cities provided convenient hiding spots and distracting noises. Such as the noise of doors slamming and engines starting up. Ordinarily that would be normal, but nearly every officer should have been occupied by the press conference. Wayne sprinted to the back of the station just in time to see an unmarked van drive off, carrying with it the unmistakeable scent of Ada and her perfume.

It was the slow, listless drip of water that slowly brought Ada back. Her mouth felt full of cotton, and the effort it took to open her eyes felt monumental. Luckily enough for her, wherever she was was dimly lit, so opening her eyes wasn’t as painful as it could have been. She could dimly make out the blurry shape of a human in front of her. Or at least it seemed like it was human. A slight wiggling of her hands confirmed that she was tied to whatever she was sitting on. Felt like a chair. Lowering her head, she looked down at her legs. Definitely a chair she was tethered to. She was still dressed, though she was missing a heel and her stockings were ripped. Her ankles were secured to each chair leg with a zip tie, leaving her legs slightly parted.

Great. That’s just great. I’ll have to get a new pair....and the first thing I think about after being kidnapped is shoes.

The thought was so asinine that she couldn’t help a small chuckle. It was enough to catch the attention of the form in front of her. “Looks like Sleeping Beauty’s awake,” said a masculine voice. As she lifted her head, the man in front of her became a little clearer. Not like it would have made that much of a difference; even through blurred vision she could tell he was wearing some sort of mask. Ah. Ski-mask. Well, at least they were through.

“....I’m not going to even bother to ask where I am because you won’t tell me,” she croaked. At least her voice still worked - though she didn’t see herself sounding any louder than a whispered voice. Whatever the stuff was that knocked her out felt like it’d done a number on her mouth, between the extreme dryness of it and the slight tickle in her throat.

“Awake and smart-mouthed. Go on, you’ll make it that much harder for me to resist your charms.” And under all of that slime, there was such an air of serious intent that Ada shivered. This was what nightmares were made out of. There was training for situations like this, but it just seemed like something out of a bad action movie than anything that could actually happen. But here she was, tied up to a chair in some undisclosed location (that sounded vaguely abandoned and perhaps underground), weak, and at the whim of a man that was much larger than her. As she couldn’t feel the weight of her holster, she knew it’d been taken from her. Of course they wouldn’t let her keep her gun. And now she couldn’t figure out what was more unsettling: that she was tied up, or that she had a strange man’s hands all over her while she was unconscious.

Either way, not an ideal situation. Again, she flexed her wrists against the restraints. Zip-ties. He knew what he was doing.

“Is this about the press conference?” She had to get him talking. Something. Anything to distract him from her extremely vulnerable position and to calm herself down. There was the overwhelming urge to panic, to scream, to thrash about, but it wouldn’t get her anywhere. Not now. Get him talking. Keep calm. For the love of God, keep calm.

A grunt from him. A thin, cold knife of panic slid through her breast.

“I’m really not that great of a detective,” she said, almost blithely. “I just happened to luck into this, really. First on scene and all of that.” Her voice had a distant echo to it. They had to be somewhere with pipes and concrete. At least, based on what was under her feet and that incessant drip of water. And the air was cool, almost clammy....the air smelled old.

“Now, now, Miss Clarke, you’re not giving yourself any credit,” and she was surprised to hear a slight bit of urbane sophistication in his voice. “You’ve single-handedly uncovered a store of lupies right here in our midst. I really should be thanking you. You’ll be making my job that much easier.”

She raised an eyebrow. He was looking directly at her, at her eyes, through the ski mask. She could tell that much. And he was expecting her to give some sort of reaction to his knowing her name. That didn’t catch her by surprise; she’d given it at the press conference. So no need to panic - not yet. After all, he could have been watching the conference. And she didn’t have enough information to assume that he was part of any sort of larger plan. Making sure to keep eye contact with him, she held her poker face as her mind spun through possibilities. No one else - but Jackson - knew that she had personally helped lycans. This guy didn’t seem to know that, either. He seemed to be basing all of his information about her directly from the conference. But to be able to get to her that easily, surely, that had to have meant that he had some contact on the inside. She stopped her stomach from turning - she had known there were corrupt cops on the force, but this? And to put her in the hands of a potential murderer....

“And at this point,” he turned away from her momentarily, tightening the gloves that he had on, “I’m sure you’d expect me to keep rambling on and on about my plans. Only in the movies,” and he turned back to face her. Her eyes darted to his knuckles. Her luck held; no metal shimmered from his clenched fist. Whatever he was planning to do, it didn’t look like he had weapons. Or at least he wasn’t the type to play to intimidation factors by showcasing brass knuckles and knives. “Only in the movies. But, while I have you here, and before I get down to business, let’s say we enjoy ourselves. Being charitable helps lighten my karmic load.”

He knelt in front of her, placing his hands on her legs. Slowly, his hands ran across the tops of her thighs, sliding to her inner thighs right above the knee. As if gauging her reaction, he looked up at her as he inched his hands higher. Again, the urge to panic, to scream bubbled, but she swallowed it, along with the bile that threatened to rise. She kept her expression neutral; he was doing it to get a rise out of her.

“...If you really wanted to do this, you would have done it while I was knocked out.”

“Not my style. This is about you,” he looked up at her, running a gloved finger further up her skirt, stopping, lingering, hovering, over the juncture of her thighs. “You’re a smart woman. Brilliant, really. So you know that I’m going to kill you here in a little while. As I said, I have to lighten my karmic load somehow-”

“And, y’know, not killing me isn’t apparently good enough for that,” she said dryly. She had to keep calm. This was a literal life or death situation; one she’d never been in. And God, she thought that she’d be prepared for something like this. But there was nothing that she could do to stop the goosebumps from dancing across her skin or the rapid pulsing of her heart to slow down....If it wasn’t for her immense pride...

“You’re a funny one. Cute, too. It’s a shame. No husband or anything.” The finger landed against the cleft of her labial lips, slightly cool against the cloth of her panties. “Sure I can’t do this for you before I kill you?”

“I think it’d be more for me than for you,” she sighed, rolling her eyes upwards and ignoring the feeling of his hands between her legs.

“I gotta hand it to you, Miss Clarke. Most anyone, man or woman, would be begging me for their life by now. I gotta respect that. I’ll make it quick,” and he stood up, letting his hands drag down her legs. Standing in front of her, he pulled a gun from his waist band, and drew back the hammer. “Nothing personal, of course.”

“Of course,” and she looked down the barrel.

Tracking the van had been easy. The driver was smart and never went over the speed limit, the best way to avoid attention from unwanted cops. For a Lycan in pursuit however, it was perfect. After half an hour of running along the rooftops, the van finally pulled into an parking garage.

Wayne took a few minutes to size up the building. It looked like it hadn't been used for a long time - the dull white exterior walls were stained with dirt and the blue "Parking" sign was barely hanging on, fighting a losing battle against abandonment and neglect. The offices above the garage also looked to be empty; most of the windows were either boarded up or smashed, and Wayne could see desks and chairs strewn around in disarray. Apart from the entrance that the van had driven through, there didn't seem to be any other obvious means of getting in the building - even the back doors were chained shut. With only one method of entry, Wayne didn't have much of a choice.

He stopped next to the downward approach to put his shoes into his backpack. Going in barefoot would make it easier to be stealthier, and Lycan feet weren't tender like human feet. Taking a moment, he took a deep breath and put all his effort into concentrating his senses. In his weakened state, transforming could open up some of his wounds. Hoping that there were no Lycans inside, Wayne crept into the garage.

There was barely a need to conceal himself, as there was only one source of light on the first floor he came to. The garage was small, with enough space for about 30 cars at best. A couple of obviously abandoned vehicles took up a space or two, windows shattered and tires either missing or flat. The white van which had taken Ada was parked next to a descent, obviously the second lower floor. Next to it were a couple of standing lights illuminating two men, both armed and wearing cheap suits, smoking cigarettes a couple of feet away. As he moved closer he listened to their conversation.

"That policewoman is a real hot piece of ass. I wonder if that sick bastard is gonna....", said the man on the left, a rugged type with a worn face and a tall, lean, athletic build.
"Come on man!" his sidekick interrupted. This guy looked younger, more fresh faced. Not as tall and more rotund.
"I'm just saying. You know he does some nasty shit sometimes, especially to the women."

As soon as Wayne heard them he accelerated. Dashing into the light, he took out the tall one with swift chop to the throat. As the short guy gasped in surprise, Wayne drove a fist into his stomach, causing him to double up, and then another chop to the back of the head. Within a second both men were crumpled on the ground, barely making a sound as they lost consciousness. It would have been easier to kill them, but they needed to be interrogated afterwards. With a renewed sense of urgency, Wayne quickly vaulted through the gap in between floors, landing to the sight of Ada strapped to a chair under another standing light about 70 metres away. A man was kneeling in front of her, with his hands on her thighs.

"Sure I can't do this before I kill you?" Wayne heard, as he closed the gap. He could smell arousal and excitement on the man, and defiance from Ada. Not a trace of fear. Even when the man stood up and pulled out his gun, aiming it squarely at her face. The Enforcer accelerated as time slowed down - the assassin's arm started to tense as the impulses travelled through his nerves to the hand. Just as the finger started to tighten on the trigger, Wayne smashed into the side of the assassin at full speed, tackling him to the ground. The gun span away into the darkness as Wayne pummelled him, feeling bones and skin break under his fists, but he didn't care. The blows kept falling, and falling, Wayne roaring in anger with every hit. The Lycan had lost control.

In idle moments, Ada had often wondered what death would feel like. There was the clinical explanation - the failure of organs. The cessation of breath. The final stop in neural dances. But what did all of that really mean? Death could be painful - she saw that first hand. But what of dying in your sleep? Did even a painful death, long since slipped into shock, stop hurting? Or was it agony until everything finally, against all instinctual odds, gave up? She knew that part of being a cop was to court death. It happened. She had a greater chance of dying, than, oh, a retail worker, but after doing the job for so many years, moving up in the ranks, it became easy to forget that she still held death’s hand.

And as she stared at the barrel of the gun, she was careful, against all odds, to draw on every ounce of dignity she possessed to look death in the face without flinching. She hadn’t expected the strange sense of...resignation. In the movies, there was always that one last heroic burst, that one last flippant comment. The knowledge that death came for a cause. But what had she really accomplished? What had she really wanted in life?

Funny. I’ll never know now.

Thunderclap of pin against hammer, the acrid smell of gunpowder, and burning. Despite herself and her resolve, she winced at the sound, her shoulders bunching. She never liked the sound of gunshots - even when she practiced at the range. Her chair tumbled backwards, knocked off balance by the shot...and the subsequent tackling that Wayne gave her assailant.

Grunting as she fell, she landed heavily on her left side, jarring her ribcage. Laying on the cold cement, her teeth rattling from the impact, Ada could only squirm in her bonds. Heat collected under her left cheek; the bullet had grazed her forehead and blood trailed from below her hairline. The twing in her side let her know that she would be lucky to escape with minor bruising along her ribcage. On her side, she could see the lithe form of Wayne battering the man in front of her.

It took her long moments to find her voice.

“Wayne! WANYE! STOP! You’ve GOT TO STOP!” Thrashing about on her side, she managed to rotate the chair over to face the men. The thought of death left her mind, and she moved on pure instinct. Of long nights studying, of longer days training. She had been spared; she had a job to do. “WANYE! You’ve got to leave him alive - we won’t know WHY unless you do!”

"STOP!"

The sound was distant and he barely heard it.

"You've GOT TO STOP!"

He let out a roar, pausing briefly in response.

"WAYNE!"

There was that voice again. Looking around, his eyes feral and his teeth gritted. Wayne focused on Ada, lying sideways on the floor.

"You’ve got to leave him alive - we won’t know WHY unless you do!”

Blood was starting to collect on her forehead. Normally the smell of blood would enrage a Lycan even more, but the sight of her, sprawled on the floor with her limbs still bound brought him back. The human part took over again - he leapt off the assassin and ran over to her. Ripping off the zip ties with his hands, Wayne shucked his rucksack off the floor and pulled out a medical kit. Tucking his bag under her head, he proceeded to gently clean the wound on her head. They didn't speak a work - Wayne was incapable of coherent speech until he calmed down, and Ada looked to be in shock, mentally rather than physically.

The simple process of treating Ada had the effect of settling his mind. Wayne used the task to focus the logical human parts of his psyche and siphon away the primal rage of the lycan parts. Once he was able to think again he tried to rationalise what he had done. It was unusual to him to blow up like that - life and death situations were familiar to him but control had never been an issue. His temperament made him the Enforcer that he was.

She winced as he wrapped a bandage around her head.

"Sorry," he said, sheepishly . "I'll try and be more careful."

Was it because of her? He glanced over to the prostrate form of the would be assassin. Ada had stopped Wayne from beating the man to death, just - there were cuts and broken bones, but he would live.

"I.....I don't know what happened. I just saw him holding the gun to your head and...."

He couldn't finish the sentence, so he changed the subject.

"There are two lackeys on the first floor that I handled on the way in. I only knocked them out, so if this asshole can't talk we still have others who can."

In the few times that Ada had let herself look, and really look, into Wayne’s eyes, she was reminded of staring into a distant sun. At first glance, Wayne’s eyes were no different from any other person that she knew. Dark brown. Determined. Guarded. Nothing that was out of the ordinary.

But when she looked, really and truly, he was beyond her. Like bottling a feeling; it eluded her and the closest word that she could find was “wild.” Intense didn’t begin to describe it. When she let herself get lost in his eyes, she locked gazes with a being that was entirely beyond her comprehension; that lived on a level far removed from her own. And in time, the very “wildness” of his gaze was a comfort. It mingled with his human side - the only side, she thought ruefully- that she had ever given him credit for. Even when he transformed in front of her, it was a page from a surreal dream. Even when her fingers slid through the silk of his fur, as he stood in front of her, powerful, feral, the connection wasn’t made.

As she watched him tear into the now comatose man in front of her, it clicked. All the pieces fell into place, and she felt a fear that turned her stomach to ice. What was to keep him from turning on her? He was still in the form of a human, yes, but whatever warmth, whatever extra had been in his eyes was gone now. They weren’t the black doll eyes of a shark, but the narrowed focus of an attacking beast. He was moving towards her now - and fear turned to panic. There was no way for her to get away from him, should he decide to attack her.

That bullet to the brain is looking a lot more pleasant right now.

When he ripped off her zip ties, she was impressed. They were made out of solid plastic - the kind that dug uncomfortably within the palms and could leave nasty cuts. Unless she had a knife on her, there would have been little to no way for her to get out of them. And he ripped through them like paper. With her arms and legs freed, she pulled herself up to a sitting position. Adrenaline was still high, and so was her training. There would be time to freak out later. Before she could get to her feet, Wayne was in front of her, bandaging her forehead. The wound itself was slight -in the grand scheme of things-, but as thin as the skin across her forehead was, she figured it would leave a scar.

Silence settled between them. Her heart was pounding against her rib cage, but outwardly, she showed no emotion. To his enhanced senses, she reeked of terror. Her lower lip trembled, and she dipped her head slightly lower in order to give him better access to her skin. Silence settled between the two of them, intermittently broken by the groans of the man as consciousness slowly returned. He pressed the bandage a tad too flush with her forehead, and she winced.

When he finally spoke, she could only raise an eyebrow. More careful in regards to what? The rest of the words rushed past him, tumbling over each other. “…Don’t worry about it,” she said, surprised that she was able to speak. Dry mouth hadn’t quite dissipated yet. “We need to get all of these guys in one place. We need them talking.”
__________

Luckily, the ring leader had more zip ties on him.

And between the two of them, it didn’t take long to get the men to speak. Ada took it all in, her face expressionless. She’d heard stories of corruption on the force, but to hear that it went all the way up to politicians disturbed her. She still naively believed in truth, justice – the things that were their own reward for a life well lived. And yet, right in front of her, she had living breathing examples of how corruption, crookedness, did actually win the way. It had nothing to do with the men they had been chasing – no, this was cooked up by the big wigs in City Hall. They’d planned on kidnapping and killing her to send a message to all those who would even attempt to humor a merging of lycans and humans. Just what they had to lose, she had yet to discover. She figured she would if she kept digging. But whatever it was, it had to have been something major for them to arrange all of this. It went beyond a doubt that it reached within her own precinct, as the men rattled off names – far too many that she recognized.

Before she could stop herself, she knelt eye level with the man that was responsible for tying her up, and floored him with a single well-timed right hook. He sprawled out on the ground, out cold. The other two glanced down at him, and then at her. Her nostrils were flared, her lips tight, fighting the rage that rose within her. She couldn’t break down. Not yet.

“I’m going to call for back up. And then I’m getting the hell out of here.” She picked up her single heel. She’d be too off balance to try and make it home with one heel on. Didn’t make sense. And the ground didn’t feel that cold anymore.
_______

Back in the safety of her apartment, she flopped down bonelessly on the couch. Her whole body was numb. She’d stayed long enough to talk to the other cops. She didn’t even know why she bothered. People attached to the names given were there – Vasquez, Moreland, Johnson. All of them. Fucking filthy liars. Preying on the people they were supposed to be protecting. It had sapped the last of her willpower to face them straight on, to look at the surprise and fear in their eyes as she stood there, alive.

Alive.

But for how much longer would be her next big question.

After the interrogation Wayne made himself scarce. With the revelation that the assassin was dispatched by human politicians, it would definitely not look good for Ava to be rescued by a Lycan. Their determination to use her as a martyr was already alarming - Wayne hadn't expected the anti-Lycan sentiment to actually manifest in the form of a secret human government conspiracy. They had already expended so much time and effort into investigating Remus, and now they had to contend with humans too.

Wayne decided to spend some time wandering the rooftops. The events of the afternoon were disturbing in so many ways. His loss of composure was unnatural - he excelled at controlling his animal instincts. Even when faced with dire situations he had always managed to walk that fine line between control and chaos. Friends and allies had died at his side and yet Wayne had never been that far gone.

He bounded from rooftop to rooftop, feeling the cold wind against his face, letting his thoughts run free. It was better to let himself go rather than over think himself into a complicated frenzy. The city passed by underneath him, a sprawling beast that was far more powerful than his own. So unpredictable, so vibrant, and yet cold and unforgiving. Why did he ever leave the reservation?

----

It was evening by the time he settled on a vague plan. At first he was going to go back to his hotel, however he realised he wanted to check on Ada. There was a general concern for her well being of course, but Wayne wanted a chance to perhaps explain himself. She had witnessed a side of him that he hadn't come close to comprehending, and there was the risk that she would be too scared to see him again. Despite the memory being fresh, Wayne decided it would be better to approach it as soon as possible. Whether she would kick him out or accept him, he had no idea. Their partnership so far had been somewhat capricious, from both sides.

As he knocked on the door he realised that she still needed protection. One failed attempt might not be enough to discourage the conspirators.

The door opened. Ada looked haggard and tired, but she still let him in. As she closed it, Wayne turned to face her. Standing in that corridor, the most important thing to him was that she looked alive - he could sense her heart beating powerfully underneath her breast. At that moment, when their eyes met, Wayne knew why he had lost control. He took a step closer, and another, until she was backed against the wall. There was no fear in her eyes, and no anger in his. He raised his hands against the wall, leaned in, and kissed her.

She was waylaid by the precinct’s shrink. “Standard procedure,” she was told. All she wanted to do was go home. She didn’t want to look at the ring of false concern; have to think of ways to keep her secrets secret. So she sat through the counseling as best as she could, keeping her words calm and her body still. “Take a few days off,” said the shrink in practiced soothing tones. “Reorient yourself.”

Ada’s attention moved from the new age posters on the shrink’s wall back to her face. She was an older woman, her face starting to age. Her blue eyes were shrewd under her gold-rimmed glasses. Standing, Ada nodded her thanks. Before she could walk out, the shrink grabbed Ada’s hand, lightly. Squeezed. Smiled. And let go.
____

The ripped stockings were tossed. With a twinge of anger, she tossed her remaining shoe. It took her so goddamn long to find a comfortable pair of heels and the second time she wears them, bam, kidnapped and nearly murdered. Well. Maybe next time she’d go with the grandma flats with the heel barely an inch high. She looked around, grabbing the edge of her blazer protectively, as if it had any power to protect her.

She never really noticed how empty her apartment could feel.

Flopping down on the couch, she buried her face in the cushions. At least she had a few days off. Maybe she could stretch that out into a longer leave. It’d give her time to be off the official books to do the things that she needed to. Maybe it was time to give Wayne all the clearance that she had - it was obvious he could get to places that she couldn’t. Wayne. What had happened to him? Maybe that was her fault, for so blindly thinking that lycans were the same as humans. She’d had no evidence to think otherwise in her dealings with Wade or Wayne.

Lifting her face from the cushions, she folded her arms under her chin, her gaze hooded. There was so much fury and power in him, in those moments. Vaguely, it reminded her of some sort of fairy tale - a Grimm version, perhaps. Not so much as a knight in shining armor, but someone who had essentially come to her rescue and killed a dragon. Just...not as pretty as the stories made them out to be. And Detective Rain - where had he gone to? The man had just vanished - and was nowhere to be found when the rest of the cops appeared on the scene. THAT didn’t sit right. But before she could let her mind wind down that particular labyrinth, she heard a knock on the door.

Dragging herself off the couch, she peered through the peep hole. Speak of the devil. She let him in, closed the door behind her. Lifted her eyes to his. Looked for something, for that glint of feral that she’d ignored so many times before. There was something there all right, but not what she was searching for. She let herself be backed against the wall, her heart thudding. Her face flushed when the wall met her back, “trapped” between his arms. There was that brief moment of excited panic - made her feel like a student again. Would he or wouldn’t he?

His lips met hers.

So alive. Alive and sweet and warm - her arms snaked around his neck, pulling him closer to her. Before he had the opportunity to deepen the kiss, she parted her lips, her tongue seeking entrance into his mouth.

The shrink had warned her about this - something about shock. Being in shock and possibly prone to risky behavior. So, the part of Ada’s mind that was steeped in logic screamed at her to stop. This was stupid. She still barely knew the guy. He was a lycan; what if this was part of some ploy to get her off guard, to manipulate her?

The weight of his body pressing her firmer to the wall, his tongue meeting hers, well, that dispelled any other doubts. Or at least shooed them to a quieter corner. She pressed her body back into his, wordlessly asking for his hands to explore her form. She loosened one arm from around his neck so her hand could trail down the side of his face, through his thick hair. She didn't try to speak, didn't try to pull herself loose from him. The heat from his body bled through their clothes, the faint traces of her perfume mingling with his heady scent.

Her response was surprising but welcome. There was no slap to the face, no forced extraction, no outrage. All he felt was acceptance, passion and warmth. Everything he had yet to experience in this city. Finally some comfort - the first woman who knew his real self, and was willing to embrace it.

Feeling her hands running through his hair gave him renewed vigour. The kiss became stronger, more passionate. It almost hurt to break it off, but there was still so much of her body that he needed to explore. Wayne used a hand to move her head back and expose her neck - the skin was long and smooth, and he had to stop himself from ravaging it. Instead he planted gentle kisses while drawing his tongue from her shoulder to her ear. The smell of her perfume permeated his nostrils along with the feminine scent of desire. His other hand unbuttoned her blouse, one by one until her shirt hung open, showing a simple black bra covering her breasts.

The bra didn't last long - he ripped it open from the front, momentarily feeling regret at ruining yet more of her clothes. Yet the effect it had on her was real - her arousal heightened, and as he lowered his mouth encircle a nipple Ada's moans became louder and sharper. Wetting a finger, he encircled her other breast and used it to play with the nipple, using it to parallel the motions of his tongue as he flicked it around the areola, deliberately teasing her. A free hand tugged her skirt up, almost ripping the already weakened fabric.

Pulling her panties aside, his exploring digits found her labia, already moist and warm. Ada parted her legs with his touch, allowing him to run a finger up and down her vulva, delicately massaging it. A gentle pressure released more of her juices, which he spread along her lips and rubbed into her clitoris. A few more gasps rewarded his motions, and he raised his head up to kiss her again, realising he was still fully clothed.

Before she could deepen the kiss, he pulled away. Gasping, she tilted her head up, welcoming the feel of his lips on her throat. Every sense heightened, she could feel, hear, the faint whisper of fabric as he undid button by button. Her stomach trembled, both impatient and nervous, to see what would come next, what would be the inevitable finish that the two were barreling towards.

And what of her hands? She kept them firmly in his hair - not wishing to control him, but wanting to keep touching him. It was getting more difficult as he moved lower down her body. A brief flare of dismay as he tore her bra from her body, quickly quelled by his mouth hot on her nipples. They contracted to firm peaks as his mouth closed over them, hot and warm. Groaning as he teased her with the tip of his tongue and his finger, she parted her legs, pressing her back firmly against the wall. She needed something to steady her, otherwise she was going to fall.

Before she could recover from the onslaught of his mouth on her breasts, she felt her skirt lifted away, her panties tumbling loosely down to her knees. Instinctively, she wanted to clamp her legs shut, to keep him from going further, but his finger tracing along the plump lines of her labia elicited another long moan from her. It had been entirely too long since anyone (other than herself) had touched her. Her legs parted further, allowing him better access, and her panties fell to her ankles.

When he pulled away, it registered to her that he was still dressed. At a loss, she looked at him, her face flushed, lips slightly parted. She didn’t have the same amount of strength that he had, so ripping clothes off of him wouldn’t quite work out. Biting down on her lower lip, she chuckled a little, her dark eyes shining. What else could she really say or do? The situation was ridiculous - her panties around her ankles, her bra in a tattered pile on the floor, her shirt sliding down her shoulders. Skirt bunched round her waist, face flushed, heart pounding.

This clothing situation had to change.

Easing himself away from her slightly, Wayne freed his hands and pulled his shirt off, throwing it on the floor without a thought. Feeling her bare chest against his brought a sense of intimacy - even though he had her pinned to the wall. Her soft skin contrasted against his, even though he wasn't as hairy as some might expect from a Lycan, there were a fair number of raised scars along his frame. Ada lowered her gaze, running her fingers along some of them, almost probing, feeling parts of his history. Wayne wasn't sure if she found them hot, but at this point, he didn't care.

Undoing the belt on his pants, he shucked them off, pushing his shoes and socks off in the process. Ungraceful, but any self respecting man could do that without even looking. His erection pressed against her belly - it had been days since he last had sex and all the pent up aggression and testosterone was at a peak. So to speak. He felt Ada raising her leg and that was the signal. Wayne reached around with one hand to cup her ass cheek, using the other to lower his manhood so it nestled between her legs.

Resuming the kiss, her arms raised up to his shoulders. She lifted slightly; he could feel his cock pressing against her labia, tantalisingly close. Wayne moved his other hand behind her and lifted her clean up, pinning Ada against the wall. Her legs wrapped around his waist, and with a smooth motion, he penetrated her.

All caution to the wind now. As her fingers danced across the intricate lines of his scars, she pulled him closer to him, her perfume overpowered by the raw, heavy smell of her lust. Her skin was slick, dampened by sweat from the mingled heat of their bodies. It wasn’t that she hadn’t thought about Wayne naked before - just that her imagination wasn’t that particularly rich. The scars pulled his were form into his human one, made it easy for her to wrap her head around the man who was pressed against her. Oddly moving, she trailed her fingers down his chest, tracing the line of a particularly jagged scar on his shoulder. What he went through the other night, what sort of scars would that leave? Would he show her?

Pressing her back against the wall for additional leverage, it didn’t take long for her to snake a leg around his hip, rub herself against his erect phallus. God....she couldn’t stop a long moan slipping from her as she eagerly rubbed her labia against him, feeling, savoring, the stiffness of his erection, how wet she was, how easily he slid against her.

Huh. When had he gotten naked?

Must’ve flown right by her. God, she was hard up. How long had it been since she’d had sex last? And with this sort of raw...well, there was nothing else to add to that statement, other than it was raw. It hadn’t crossed the line to “animalistic” yet, but she had the sneaking sense that it would turn. Sooner rather than later. Once the ground vanished beneath her feet, she wrapped her other leg about his waist, clinging for dear life. Not that she felt that he was going to drop her; the firm ripple of muscle under his flesh gave her security.

She barely had time to process that she was securely in his arms when he was inside of her. “Slid” would be too gentle of a word. “Slam” would be too hard of a word. Not like she had time to really contemplate it - one moment he wasn’t inside of her, the next he was. She leaned forward against him, his name a breathy gasp against his ear. She clenched her muscles on him, molding herself to his girth, trying to handle it. Shifting her back against the wall, she lifted herself, as much as she could, off of his manhood before letting herself fall back down upon him with a loud slap of flesh. Gasping as he entered her again, she clung to his neck, moaning.

There was no resistance. No denial. Just acceptance. Lust. And lots of other feelings he didn't have the words to describe. Ada against the wall, her legs wrapped around his waist, his cock, for want of a better word, thrusting into her. He pressed her against the wall, gaining more leverage, both hands cupping her ass, holding her up so that they could find a rhythm. Well, more so for Wayne - keeping her body steady as his hips found a comfortable motion. With every movement he could feel Ada moaning, and he responded by ravaging kisses around her neck and shoulders.

Frankly, he'd had a lot of sex in his life, but this was the first time he'd felt so strongly for his partner. As their bodies met, feeling each other's skin and sweat - he finally understood why humans called it "making love". His senses had never been so in tune with his emotions, and the feeling was almost euphoric. There was satisfaction, pleasure, desire, and most surprisingly, comfort.

His libido wasn't sated yet though. Lifting her up, Wayne moved back to let her feet rest on the ground. His penis felt cool in the exposure, coated with the fluids of her sex. Before she could say anything, he turned her around, pressing her front first against the wall. Ada raised her derrière, understanding what he wanted. This time he teased her a little, brushing his cock up and down the lips of her vulva. Her hips jolted in response every time he paused at the entrance.

Unable to control himself any longer, he slid into her, one hand cupping her breast and the other pulling her head back so they could kiss.

“Acceptance” was a good word for it. “Longing” had a lot to do with it as well. With her head tilted carelessly back, she let Wayne’s rhythm carry her away. She could barely feel the roughness of the wall, or the kisses he placed on her neck and shoulders. Lost in the steady rocking of his hips, she wrapped her legs firmer about his waist, still struggling to find purchase as the combined sweat of their bodies made their skin nearly impossibly slick. Even the raised ridges of his scars did nothing to keep her from steadily sliding down his body, to keep his hair from sticking his shoulders and hers. Her own lay in damp paint brush tip tangles about her throat and pressed to the back of her neck.

Despite the desperate nature of the two of them coming together, of the abject fear she’d experienced only a few hours prior, there was something real in this coupling. Stronger than she’d ever felt before, something that bordered on words that she almost had. And with each stroke inside of her, with each moan that tore from her lips, the feeling got stronger. She found herself wondering, idly, through the haze of pleasure that clouded her vision how she’d lived her life this far without experiencing this, without experiencing him.

Just when she thought that she was going to fall over the edge of that rapidly approaching precipice, when the feeling inside of him inside of her was getting to be too strong, where she felt that she would break, no, not just break, but shatter into a thousand pieces, needing him to put her back together, he withdrew. The sound she made was something caught between a stifled cry of loss and a whine of relief. It was so intense, too intense….it was only when he slipped loose from her that she realized she had dug her fingers so tightly into his back that the joints were stiff, and popped as she slowly uncurled them. Fluid slid down her leg, and her lower lips trembled in anticipation.

Then he turned her to face the wall.

The communication between them was unspoken, but felt. Before he could turn her, she found herself moving to put her back to him, to press her breasts comfortably against the sweat-dampened wall that was behind her. And she found herself lifting up on the balls of her feet, positioning her rear to him. And with each teasing stroke he gave to her lips, she lifted either higher or lower, begging him with her body, with her plump and glistening labia, to take her, to continue what he’d started and what they both needed. And when he eased inside of her, she let out a long sigh of contentment, murmuring his name, and much more.

Rocking back against him, she twisted her torso as much as she could (without pain) to meet him, to both press her breasts into his hands and to meet his lips with hers. Sinking down to stand flat against the wall, she rocked her hips back into his. Her feet on the ground afforded her much more control than she had prior, and she took full advantage of it, bucking back eagerly into him, pulling him further and deeper into her than he had been before. Quickly, now, then slow, then agonizingly slow, so that she could feel each glistening inch of him, then sudden again, engulfing him in one downward stroke, slap of rear against his hips. In her own erratic pace, she came close to that edge again, and she eagerly pushed herself towards it, her tongue tangling with his as her legs began to shake with the exertion. Higher, harder, faster, more – so much, too much.

In the midst of their kiss, she let out a vocal cord rending shriek, heralding her rapture as she climaxed around him, her body shaking.

He let her control the pace, and savoured it. Letting Ada move her hips, feeling her responses to every movement, gaining an understanding of her body and how it worked. Everyone one of his senses was heightened and almost assaulting him. Instead of fighting it he let them layer up one by one - the taste from her kiss, their combined smells, and the multitude of touches. Their lips rubbing together, his hands cupping her breasts, feeling her aroused nipples between his fingers. And most of all, their sexual organs joined together - whether she was thrusting or just easing herself onto his member, he could feel the warmth and wetness enveloping him. Sensing her responses on his cock as she tensed and relaxed, until it built towards her climax.

Wayne had to hold her tightly as she shuddered in pleasure, almost shocked to hear the scream that he knew was building inside of her. He could barely control himself; the wolf inside of him wanted to howl in response, but the human part was back in control, and he wanted more. With Ada almost frozen in her ecstasy, he took the chance and began to move in response, thrusting his cock into her with long powerful strokes. She gasped with every movement, her orgasm extending as he quickened the pace, building to his own climax. Any sense of restraint was gone - the apartment filled with the sounds of skin slapping together mixed with their own gasps and moans. Until he came with a roar of his own, his fluids shooting into her, mixing together and leaking out with every stroke.

------

There was a moment briefly when he felt weak, but then Ada almost collapsed into his arms. Lifting her gently, he carried her through the apartment and into the bed, placing her onto the covers with a reverence he had never felt for anyone. The only thing he could manage was to climb in beside her and cradle her body in his arms.

She wasn’t sure of the precise moment of when her feet left the floor; just that she was carried, princess style, to the comfort of her bedroom. Struck dumb by the intensity of her orgasm, prolonged and beautiful, electricity of the purest sort, tangled with the fluctuations of the day, her strength had left her limbs and she collapsed, bonelessly.

Sheets shifted under their weight, and she instinctively curled into his chest as he lay down beside her. Sweat cooled, then dried in the fragrant air of her bedroom. Her fingers curled under her chin, her breasts pillowed against the ridges of his pectorals and the uneven snarls of his scars, sleep found her quickly, all thoughts fled from her mind.

_______

The streetlights were orange yellow globes against the sparkling lights of the night sky. Steam rose from grates, feral cats prowled amongst trash cans, and the dull roar of city traffic seemed miles away. She lay awake now, still cushioned against his chest, watching as it rose and fell with each breath he took. With his acute senses, she knew it wouldn’t be long before he would awake as well, or would respond to the subtle changes in her body as she lay there. Dimly aware that she’d slung a leg across his body in the middle of sleeping, she gently withdrew it, stretching out the stiffened joint. Part of her struggled to go over the events of the day; to recap how she’d ended up in the arms of someone that she still knew so little about. The other part of her, the part that was winning, let her lay there with him, let her luxuriate in the warmth of his body, in the fact that she was alive, that he was alive, that something bizarre and strange but wonderful had happened to them in the mere scant handful of time that was a few hours.

Shifting within his arms, she moved astride him, to rest her head fully against his chest. Comfortable that she hadn’t disturbed him with the movement of her body, she leaned down and kissed him, her hand moving to trail her fingers down the side of his face.

Ada was asleep as soon as he put her down - no doubt she was exhausted after the stress she had endured in the past 12 hours. Wayne was dead tired too, but he felt mentally energised after the sex; the anger was purged from his mind and he could once again think clearly.

Lining up all the events of the past few days, he started to strategise. From what had happened today, it was clear they were fighting a battle on at least two fronts. Ada had to contend with a threat from within, as humans squabbled amongst themselves over how to deal with Lycans. Wayne had already taken steps to deal with Remus, but today's events had added new complications. He would have to re-establish communication with the higher ups on the Reservation. But that would have to wait until tomorrow.

------

For the first time in months, Wayne slept comfortably, his sense of contentment overriding any concerns about the impending dangers they would face. Their troubles were only getting deeper and more complex, but somehow he had found a safe place; amongst all the maelstrom of conspiracies, gang wars, political warfare and drug dealings, somehow, there was still a glimpse of a better world on the other side. With it came the motivation to bear the hardships and endure the pain - hope.

Feeling a gentle touch on his cheek, Wayne stirred awake. How long he had slept he had no idea; as he tried to process his thoughts Wayne turned himself from Lycan form back to human. Hearing a gasp, he realised that Ada was snuggled up next to him, and was likely to be the first human to have felt a transformation at such close proximity in years. Looking over, he smiled at her.

"Sorry, I should have warned you." he whispered apologetically. He pulled her a little bit closer. "It's just that I felt so.....comfortable here. Normally I would never transform in front of someone, but with you, I have no fear."

If you'd told her, years before, that she'd have a lycan in her bed, she would have laughed at you. And would have laughed harder still if you'd gone on to elaborate that not only would a lycan be in her bed, but he wouldn't be in human form and she'd give him a kiss square on the side of his muzzle, she would have been on the ground in tears.

And yet, here she was. She'd only really gotten a look at him as a lycan seemingly at a distance; this close, there was something about his primal power that was awe inspiring. Ada had never really been one for pets (cats, in particular, she loathed), but he wasn't quite a "pet", not even in the same category as "dog." A little ashamed of herself for even thinking something so...so, well, unenlightened, she flushed and concentrated on running her fingers through his thick fur. His outer coat was long, wiry; and (with a wry thought), not prone to shedding as her first assumption would be. Or, at least, it would seem that maybe he wasn't prone to shedding. Lycans couldn't be - otherwise, there would be evidence everywhere every time that they left their reservations.

Before she had the time to fully contemplate the ins and outs of his powerful body, he stirred, his body shifting. Like many other humans, the only experience Ada had with the transformation process was from movies - long, slow, painful transformations and the miracle of practical effects before birthing the cold sterility of computer graphics. Yet there was no pain here; at least, none that she could tell. And the process happened so quickly that she couldn't really tell what had happened within his body. The fur didn't seem to retract, nor did it seem to fall off. It folded in on itself, grew smaller, finer. The muscles contracted, revealed smooth flesh ripped by the occasional scar that were near invisible under the great furred pelt of his lycan form. Seemed like something out of a dream, that swift transformation, until he pulled her closer to a very real chest, his breath tickling her hair.

"No apologies needed," she whispered back, her body going slack in his arms. "We sort of got carried away," and hopefully he could hear the grin in her voice. "But, you know, you should be absolutely terrified of me. I could kill you, you know," and she shifted in his arms, rolling on top of him and pinning him down with her thighs. She was a crack shot, but her hand to hand combat skills were abysmal. Not like she would ever have a prayer of pinning him down beneath her, lycan or no. He was powerful, deliciously, intoxicatingly so. Yes, she'd have no hope in pinning him or besting him at all.

He grinned as she straddled him. Wayne liked women to take the lead every now and then.

"Now now, there's no need to get all aggressive. Even if you have a big bad Lycan in your bed."

Running his hands up her thighs, he took a moment to absorb the sight of her body. Last night had been an intense and almost frenzied encounter - releasing a combination of built up sexual tension, aggression, and relief at both of them surviving near death encounters. There hadn't been much opportunity to admire her naked body, as she had still been partially covered by ripped clothing that he was responsible for. Ada's naked form was a delicious sight; her dark skin was smooth to the touch, her round breasts hung perfectly on her frame, and by the explorations of his hands, her ass was pretty damn perfect too. It took Wayne a moment to realise the attraction he was feeling to her - even though he'd slept with plenty of women, it was surprisingly the first time he'd actually formed an emotional connection to someone. Generally, he found women were willing to share their personal stories without abandon - that led to a lot of listening for him - but he was less inclined to share. Sex was always a means to an end, a way to control his transformations. He never thought it could lead to something like this.

"I can think of something you'll enjoy doing to me more...."

Not wanting to waste the moment, he pulled her onto him and kissed her. Last night was raw and aggressive. This time he wanted it to be soft and comfortable. The kiss was gentle and unhurried; there was no rush, no unbearable pressure that had to be released. Just the two of them, lying in bed, enjoying each other's bodies. And on cue, his loins started stirring as the nerves in his body started tingling from the kiss.

She laughed, the sound bubbling up from the pit of her stomach and drifting out with abandon. It felt good - felt like it’d been too long since she had laughed, truly laughed. And with everything that had happened within the past few days, she needed it. She needed him, too - the way he felt beneath her, his strong hands moving up the sides of her thighs. His touch was slow, tender - moved almost tentatively as he explored her form in the dull black of the late night. She had no idea what time it was - and it truly didn’t matter. Her leave would keep her from being officially on the clock for a few days. That meant plenty of time for them to put their heads together, figure out what was happening.

Perhaps make a little more love here and there.

Before she was brought down to his chest, she had a few, fleeting moments of exploring his skin with her fingertips, tracing over the broken lines of his scars. Truthfully, it wasn’t the first time she’d seen him in his human form - his “disguised” form still rang true. Although, now, the roots of his hair was showing its true color. “I meant to tell you,” she murmured against the side of his lips, playfully dodging his first kiss, “That your dye job was terrible,” and then she allowed herself the luxurious pleasure of his lips against hers, unhurried, drinking him in, savoring, as her arms dropped.

Her fingers stole up the sides of his arms, squeezing gently, as if testing the firm muscle beneath his smooth skin. From his arms, up the sides of his neck, through the thick curtain of his hair as she deepened the kiss, equally unhurried. After all, they had all night. All morning. And everything else could wait for a bit longer.

She loved playing with his hair. Or fur. Or scars. Wayne didn't really get the fascination, but he wasn't complaining. So this is what it's like to have a proper lover, he though. Let her do what she wants, and only take control if she allows it.

His body responded in the only way it knew how - his manhood, rising to the morning sun, and the machinations of their intimacy. He felt it brush against her legs, and then rest inbetween her thighs, conveniently. Ava automatically responded, moving her hips so that his penis was finely balanced against her vulva. He could already feel moisture leaking out, and she artfully undulated her crotch to spread it around the tip of his cock and around her labia, before lowering herself to rest on him. Wayne couldn't help but let out a sigh as he slid inside her, savouring the warmth.

This was hard to describe. Nice? Comfortable? He didn't really know what to say. Normally his senses were always on full alert, but in this moment, they were overwhelmed. Wayne was vulnerable, something he never allowed. As the time passed, as their lips touched, as their bodies mingled, it was liberating. His life and his emotions had always been locked away; now he didn't care what she knew. He wanted to tell her everything - how he felt, what he'd done, how life had led him to this point. So this must be what love could to do people. Wayne realised that it had already changed him; he had lost control and almost killed someone to protect her. But it was worth it.

Definitely worth it.

Even if she was insulting his hair.