To be completely honest, I'm not even sure how I ended up here. The last hour has been one giant blur of haunting memories and rash decisions. Dylan was back in town and I was on my way to see him because the message he sent me was ominous and it gave me a weird feeling that things were going for the worse between us. So I had to see him, talk to him.

As I leave my car I hurry through the heavy snow, running towards the front door that has a brooding stormy figure waiting for me already. He probably spotted my approaching truck.

"What in the hell do you think you're doing?" Dylan storms behind me as soon as I pass the threshold. His blue eyes are blazed, making them appear almost dark in the afternoon semi-darkness.

"What?"

"What are you thinking coming here in this weather?!" He's shouting at me. His anger pours off him in waves, grating against my skin. Oh how I missed him.

"It wasn't that bad." I'm shaking the snow off my hair and it forms small puddles on his nice new wooden floor. Shit. Something tells me I'm fucking this up even more.

"I specifically told you not to come until it stops snowing and the patrols clear the snow off the roads. I told you, tomorrow."

"We are at work tomorrow."

He pinches the bridge of his nose with his index finger and thumb, letting out a heavy sigh before continuing. "Then after work. Jesus, you never listen."

"Well, who pissed in your cheerios today?"

"You. You did. Do you have any idea how dangerous it can be out there? With almost zero visibility, icy winds and heavy snowfall. This old truck could have stopped by the forest and the bear would have got you. Do you even have bear spray with you?"

"Woah, a bear? I think you're overreacting."

"No, I am not. There are in fact bears, we live in the wilderness in case you haven't noticed. Some of them have not yet hibernated. And you don't take anything seriously. You think you can do whatever you want without any consequences."

"Why don't you tell me what your actual problem is with me?" Something happened while he was away. There is an ugly thing inside of me, growing like a tumor and it might burst if I don't let it out. "Where were you?"

"I went to see my old man."

"Really? Why are you being so secretive about it?"

I can practically see the steam pouring from his ears in thick clouds. "I'm not being secretive."

I wish I wasn't like this. But the thought of him not being in my life anymore makes me act irrationally. And I can't stop the next words from coming out. "Are you fucking someone else?"

Wrath paints his face, fury swimming in his eyes. He lets out a frustrated breath, lip curling into a sneer. "No. I'm not fucking someone else. That's what I can get from you whenever the fuck I want, don't I?"

I flinch at his cruel tone. He's up in my face and there is something in his eyes I can't describe. Anger yes, but something else, something close to sadness, despair. "Isn't that why you came here for now too? Go on, bend over that kitchen counter. No need to even take all your clothes off, why bother when you're just a hole for me to fuck?"

I feel blood rush to my face, as every word hits me like a bullet. "Shut up." My voice is barely a whisper.

"No, I won't shut up," he seethes. "I've been quiet all this time but I had enough of it." He unzips his jeans, then the belt. There's thunder in his eyes.

"What are you waiting for? I'm ready to go, Noah. Look how fucking hard I am for you!" He has a firm grip on his hard-on that I can see straining his tight boxers and he sounds like he's disgusted by his own biology."You make me hard even now, it's driving me insane. You drive me insane!"

"Oh yeah?" I shout back. "So why don't you say that you're done with me already and I'll be on my merry way?!"

"That was the plan," his chuckle is an ugly thing, humorless and so fucking sad and I feel I'm not going to survive this. "But you see, now that you're here I can't make myself do it. You're driving me crazy but I still want you, I want you more than ever. But you'll fucking run the second my dick leaves your body and it's making me sick."

"Dylan..." I sigh, reaching out to grab his hand. His gaze falls to where my hand is touching his moments before he rips it away as if I physically burned him.

"No, let go of me. I need to walk away." He backtracks running his hands through his hair so aggressively I fear he's going to pull clumps of it out. "I'm not thinking clearly and I don't want to do something stupid that I will regret."

He storms off in the direction of his bedroom, then suddenly stops in his tracks. "And don't you dare drive off in this weather. Because I'll go after you and that will make me even more pissed off."

The sound of the door slamming echoes around me as the frames on either side of the door shake from the force. I hear the shower turn on in the bathroom. Soon it's off but Dylan doesn't come out. Anger bubbles in my gut, putrid and blazing. Anger at myself for hurting him with my actions, but also anger at myself for thinking I am capable of solving my own issues.

I don't know what to do with myself in this terrible silence with only a wall separating us. I walk to the window and observe the smooth white sheet of snow forming all around us and the gloomy, grey sky. I sit down after a while, noticing all the details of Dylan's home that I never even cared to see before even though I had the opportunity many times. I glide my palm over a gorgeous solid wood coffee table clearly handmade by his skilled hands. There's a fireplace across from where I'm sitting that Dylan just started building. The kitchen is on the small side but fully equipped with modern furniture and a kitchen island that separates that part of the house from the living room and dining area. I look at his bedroom door, still closed. Now that the anger has subsided all I feel is fear but something inside of me is telling me that I shouldn't go inside and look for him.

More time passes and I decide to go get a glass of water. On my way to the kitchen I notice a box full of books, and next to it another box, this one wooden, covered with a piece of fabric.

Finally, after almost an hour Dylan emerges from his room. He sees me sitting at the kitchen island with a book I found in that box but doesn't say a word. He has changed into a fresh pair of jeans and a dark green sweatshirt that has Seawolves UAA written in bold yellow letters on his chest, and he is barefoot.

Jesus, did he used to play hockey for the University of Alaska in Anchorage? The thought of it makes me incredibly restless because of a few reasons. One of them entirely embarrassing because I used to have huge crushes on hockey players in my early teenage days when I discovered that I liked boys, and felt absolutely nothing for girls. The other reason, disappointment. In myself. That I wasted all this time not getting to know him better. Asking more meaningful questions. God, how I want to know this man, want to crawl into his mouth, between his ribs, want to curl around his heart and know him from the inside out.

I lick my lips, willing words to come out of my mouth but Dylan seems like a massive block of ice in that kitchen, ignoring me, cold and unapproachable, so I back off. I wish I knew what was going through his mind.

"Do you eat seafood?" His voice breaks the silence as he starts pulling groceries out of the fridge.

"Um... yeah."

I walk slowly to the kitchen counter where he's pulling everything he needs out of the cupboards. "Do you need me to help?"

He doesn't look at me. Long seconds pass. "You can cut the veg."

"Sure." I join him and after washing my hands at the sink I start cutting. "Listen... I..."

"I'm sorry for shouting at you," he interrupts me, his eyes close and he hangs his head between his shoulders, hands still on the counter.

"I rarely lose my temper like that. I never lose my temper," he looks at me.

I put a knife on the cutting board, angling my body towards him, with a hip leaning on the counter.

"It's ok-"

"No it's not ok, I shouldn't have ever said those things to you. I didn't mean to say that, I was way out of line."

"No, It was a mistake to come here in this weather, you were right. I looked outside and it was slowing down, so I will leave as soon as it stops. And we can talk some other time when we're both in a better mood."

He doesn't say anything to that, and I assume that means he agrees. Soon the seafood stir fry is ready and Dylan brings the plates to the kitchen island. We start eating in silence, and it seems we are not as tense as before.

"This is good. Thank you."

"You're welcome."

That's all he says.

Who am I kidding, we are definitely still tense. After we finish, I get up and take the dirty plates. "I'll wash up."

"No, leave it in the sink. I'll do them later."

"No it's fine, it's just a few dishes. You cooked," I turn on the tap, ready to start. I need to do something, anything but sit in this awkward silence with him.

"Noah, it's fine, just.." He's angry again. I can hear it in his voice. Suddenly he's behind me on the sink, with one hand he turns the water tap off, and the other grips my waist. I freeze and close my eyes, at how much I needed his touch on me.

I turn around and I'm engulfed by him. A tingling sensation is erupting all over my body. The moment our eyes meet, he swallows and the tightness around his mouth softens.

"So stubborn," he whispers and gives me a small smile. I take a deep breath and close my eyes again, feeling relief.

"I'm sorry for being a dick and assuming you fucked someone else."

He laughs a humorless laugh, "You're seriously thinking I would want someone else?"

"I don't know, I thought maybe that ex of yours came back."

He turns serious, "I'd never get back with him."

"Will you tell me about him?"

"Not today."

"I understand," is all I utter.

"Were you jealous?"

"What? Jealous? No."

He blinks slowly and smiles lazily. "Liar."

"Shut up."

"I like you being jealous. I never thought I would, but you're different. Everything is different with you and I think I might be out of my depth here."

"Dylan, I'm not sure what to do either... how to do this? It's been great, you're great but you're been distant since we started this... sex... and I don't want to lose what we have. I guess I got scared. It's stupid."

"Your feelings are not stupid." With his gaze locked on mine, he seems like he's thinking really hard about what to say to me. Is this it? Is this the moment he breaks this? Is there anything to break at all? "And you won't lose me."

My mouth is dry, tongue coated in chalk, as I try to speak. I feel like I'm breaking. My heart is thumping hard behind my ribs and my breathing is coming out shallow. I'm falling apart before his eyes while he simultaneously puts me back together again.

"Ok, I think I can admit that I was jealous. And maybe, I missed you." The words come out raspy. I need him to understand how hard this is for me to admit.

He looms over my face inches away from mine, then whispers, "The storm stopped. Do you want to leave?"

I shake my head without speaking. Instead, I sneak my arms around him. My lips lean up towards his and our lips come together. No, I don't ever want to leave you.

He leads me into the living room and sits me down. He pulls me closer, kisses my cheek and holds me against his chest. Both his arms are wrapped around me, and we stay like that for a while in front of some random movie on the TV that we missed the beginning of. The darkness begins to prevail around us and I feel so relaxed that at some point I close my eyes. When I wake up it's to Dylan's body behind me. The corner sofa is big enough for two of us but we are squeezed tight and I feel like I will combust.

I slowly get out of his embrace and go to use the bathroom. When I'm back Dylan is sitting up, looking at me and there is a relief in his eyes when he sees that I'm still there.

"I didn't leave," I say.

But it sounds like I'm saying it more to myself than him. I can't leave. Not this time. He gets up slowly and walks to me. It is completely dark outside now, and his face is in the shadows while moving towards me. I tremble when he comes close to me. Christ, what it does to me? All these pieces of me he is taking... I hadn't known I had the ability to give. The short time we had known each other didn't matter, only our connection did, the deep-rooted feeling inside me that said Dylan just might be my home.

He slides my t-shirt over, and runs his fingertips up my spine and into my hair. My pulse quickens at the softness in his touch, his transformation from impulsive and rough to this, and it's turning my insides into jelly. "You're being awfully sweet."

His lips tilt into a menacing smirk and amusement before lowering them to mine, stopping just before they meet. "I'm a sweet kinda guy."

Everything we did so far was very far from sweet and that's how I liked it. I presumed that's what Dylan likes too, his energy matches the one of a lion in attack, his brutal fucking like a raw fight that leaves one completely wrecked and ruined.

I need to regain my equilibrium, return us to a place that is both familiar and safe. Even for a moment, I need my rough and greedy Dylan back. Rising up and gripping his sweatshirt in my hands, I roughly yank the material up and over his head, until I have his bare chest in front of me–wide, chiseled, dusted lightly with hair that I run my hands over.

"I want you inside of me. Now."

Standing only a breath apart, the heat and tension between us rises. The way he is looking at me is different. In a complete contradiction to our previous times having sex, he raises his hand, brushing his knuckles down my cheek. "I know what you're trying to do."

I yank at the waistband of his jeans, dragging the zipper down. "You mean besides getting you naked?"

He takes both of my hands in his, gripping them behind my back and kisses me slowly. Keeping our lips sealed he guides me to the bedroom so the back of my knees hit the edge of the mattress.

He cups my face, thumb softly rubbing my cheek as he looks into my eyes. "Let's start this again?"

His gaze has me entranced, and I don't think I could look away even if I wanted to. The hand on my cheek trails down my body to my hip, where he holds it before placing a kiss on my forehead.

I fall willingly when he pushes me, and reaches for the waistband of my trousers before dragging them down my legs. Slowly. He's taking me in, every inch of my skin that he uncovers.

Watching him watching me, and waiting for his next move, makes me shiver. His fingers travel down my thighs and knees and then he kisses the inside of my ankle. Then he spreads my legs open and kneels between them. He pushes behind one of my knees, spreading me wider and starts kissing the inside of my leg, all the way up to my groin. His kisses are traveling all over except for where I need them most.

"Dylan," I moan his name while my very hard dick is leaking pre cum from the tip, making a wet patch on my underwear. "Are you trying to kill me?"

"Just the opposite baby," he says between kisses. "You'll feel very much alive."

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