Then he blinked and gave me that sweet Mona Lisa smile. Fuck, with a reward like that, who could say no?

Other than anyone who thinks with the right head, anyway.

So now I’m stuck out here in the cold, freezing my fucking balls off as Kirk bops along beside me with a shit-eating grin that pretty much guarantees the fact that I’m screwed. He must be in a good mood; he grabbed on to my hand, without even a hesitation to make sure it’s not crawling with fucking ebola or something. Even if it leaves me with only the company of my hand tonight, and it would surprise me if it didn’t, it might be worth it just to see him acting almost… well-adjusted. As close as Kirk ever gets to normal.

Not that I’m a sap or anything. Yeah, shut the fuck up or I’ll sic my lawyers on you.

Did he have to wear fucking boots? All I can hear is the clacking of the heels on the boards. Or is that my goddamned heart pounding? I can already see the headlines. “Metallica Drummer Dies While Breaking Into a Haunted House.”

Yeah, that’s what the little cocksucker whined me into. “It’s supposed to be really scary, Lars.”

“So go fucking see it.”

“But… the boardwalk’s so crowded…” he had trailed off, looking downcast through his eyelashes and I immediately felt like an A+ cock.

I mean, Kirk knows he’s fucked up. I don’t have to remind him.

I am NOT a fucking sap. It was just easier to agree to this than to deal with the Hammett whine and the future therapy bills. That’s all.

As if it could get any worse, the wind’s fucking worked itself up to a frenzy. I used to be able to deal with cold better than this. At least I’m doing better than Quirk. Little San Fran flake he is, the fucker didn’t even bring gloves. His hand’s like ice where it’s wrapped around mine. He doesn’t seem to notice, let alone care. I swear if he gets any happier, he’s going to be skipping. And then I’m going to leave his ass here. I swear.

The wind knocks into one of the shuttered down places around us with a sharp bang and rattle, making me jump like a fucking preteen girl. Or at least I think it’s wind. Could be rats.

Such a cheery thought.

Kirk’s fingers tighten on mine a little. When I turn to look at him, squinting in the darkness- you’d think they’d have put up a fucking streetlight or something-, he has that smile on his face. The sweet, genuine smile that could make your knees buckle. Still smiling, still sweet, he leans over and purrs in my ear, “Skittish much, Uli?”

I will not tackle him to the ground and molest him. Or duck his snotty ass in the freezing cold water.

But, we’re already down a bassist, fuck you very much, James. If we lose Kirk, we have fuck-all chance of getting the album done. James may think he’s the Almighty, but we all know he can’t play lead.

Kirk stops, squinting in the dark, and his hand tightens on mine. “There it is!”

Christ, he sounds like a five year old at a goddamn Power Rangers party. Then, I’m being dragged towards the cheesiest paper-mache façade I’ve ever seen. I think it’s supposed to be stone-like. The big gothic sign reads simply: “Haunted House”.

“Kirk, it looks like a bunch of teenagers slapped it together.” Yeah, I’m whining. So?

He regards it for a moment, then nods decisively. For a moment, I think I’m going to get off the hook. “Classic horror,” he proclaims.

Well, shit.

It must be karmic. I killed a busload of fucking nuns or something in a past life.

“It’s not going to be running anyway.” Great, I’m gone from whining to sulking. “What’s the point if it’s not even working?”

He looks at me. Or more to the point, Looks at me. It’s pitiful enough to deserve capitalization. That’s not half as troubling as the suddenly stiff set of his mouth. “Look, if you don’t want to go, I can break in myself.”

He knows what he’s going, little shit. He knows I won’t leave him out here for God only knows what sick fuck to find. One thing he doesn’t know is how to pick a fucking lock.

Before he can let go, I tighten my grip on his fingers. Not enough to hurt; after all these years on guitar, he could crush every bone in my hand if he felt like it. I grab his hand and start walking towards the place like I’ll storm the fucking building. I don’t have to turn my head to picture the smile on Kirk’s face.

He’s won. He seems to do that a lot. I wonder why I even bother putting up a fight anymore.

Besides, it’s not like we’re gonna get in. We get to the wide metal shutters and Kirk leans down as through surverying the lock. What the fuck does he think he’s doing? I know Kirk’s a flake, but even he can’t think if he just glares at it, that it’ll open.

That’s James’ job.

He stands back up and presses his lips to my ear. His breath is hot against my ear, and suddenly the cold is gone.

I’m waiting for something. “It’s locked, let’s go fuck,” would be nice.

“I think I can get it,” he breathes. “Keep watch.”

I stare dumbly as he whips out a goddamn nail file and crouches down. Fuck.

“Is the coast clear, Uli?” Jesus, he knows how to use that silky little purr.

I look around. What the hell am I doing? It’s three in the goddamned morning!

I’m yelling at myself so loud that I almost miss the little “click.”

Then Kirk stands back up, ebony eyes glittering with triumph. “Shall we?”

He presses his palm against the steel door, and it slides up with a soft groaning of gears.

Christ. The fucker actually got it open with a nail file. Somehow, I’m not that surprised.

With a sigh, I give in to fate. We won’t be in here that long. Twenty minutes, and then I go can back to my nice warm hotel room, curl up in bed and…

Have several wet dreams just thinking about Kirk’s lips that close to any part of my body. There are no words for how pathetic that is.

It smells like sweat, sea-water, and dust in here. It’s also fucking pitch black, which figures, really. Behind me, I can hear Kirk tugging down the metal door with little noises of exertion that go straight to my cock. So I bite my lip so hard I taste copper, dig my fingernails into my palm, beat my libido down and-… trip. Severely.

I go down, without a chance of grabbing something in the dark. My stomach slams into something ungiving, jerking the air out of me with a whoosh. I don’t even have the air to retch.

“Uli?” Kirk must’ve heard the thump. “You okay?”

Yeah, peachy, if you ignore the whole ruptured organ thing. I’d bitch at him, but that would require far too many words at the moment. Instead, I gasp out a “fuck” and stagger away from whatever I hit. My hand goes out and touches… hair. Or what feels like it. My yelp is cut off when the lights go on with a click.
‘
And I look straight into the eyes of a disembodied head.

“Motherfuckingcocksuckersonofabitch!” Stumbling backwards, I nearly end up on my ass again. Before I can hit, two arms slide under mine and haul me up painfully against a hard, solid body behind me. I’d like to say I didn’t squeak. Much. “Shit!”

“Lars!” Kirk can sound damned authoritative when he wants to. The laugh just under his voice doesn’t help much, though. “Lars. It’s okay. Just a dummy.”

Y’know, I could learn to hate the little twat. Send him for groceries and he’ll spaz. Put him in a pitch-black, haunted house and he’s the goddamned picture of calm.

I hate him. Or I would, if his hands weren’t smoothing over my body, holding me against him, trying to soothe me.

I know these pants weren’t that tight when we started. But fuck, he’s touching me.

“Okay now?” he asks.

I nod and am instantly sorry as he releases me, moving away to flip some more switches. The goddamned head animates, speaking in a horribly cheesy Transylvanian accent.

Kirk snickers softly. “Thank God for the youth of America,” he mutters. “They couldn’t have made the controls any more for idiots.”

He peers over his shoulder, eyes alight with laughter. Fuck, he’s beautiful. It pulls an unwilling smile out of me. “So, does that mean we’ll need an idiot to operate it?”

The smile turns wicked. “Since James is sleeping off half a keg, I’ll just have to do.”

I try not to laugh. Really. It just happens. God, when did the little fuck grow such a spine?

I wander over to his side of the room, careful not to get too close. It’s not just for his benefit, or just the result of years of touring with the living example of OCD at its worst. I can smell the hotel shampoo on him, juniper and something darker that’s entirely his. It makes me want to… do things. Things that would scare him back into the shell something finally coaxed him out of. I don’t want to be the one to fuck that up.

Oblivious, he keeps toying with the switches, his lips moving without words. Biting his lower lip, he finally flips one with a decisive nod.

Somewhere deeper in the building, something cackles, and I flinch. Again.  Since it looks like we're gonna be awhile, I slip my coat off, tossing it over a rickety looking chair.  It's a little cool for the short sleeves, but otherwise, I'd roast in here.

“That’s not it,” Kirk mutters with a shake of his head, and hits the one next to it instead. With a loud, shuddering groan, the row of seats starts to move. Kirk beams. That’s probably not a good sign.

He practically bounds out of the control area, trotting over to the row of cars. They look like they belong in some gothic schoolroom. Arched back benches with a lap board restraint thing.

I’ve seen better restraints in shopping carts. Kirk lifts one, gesturing for me to climb in.

With a martyred sigh, I obey, wincing as the organ music switches into something far more sinister.

Kirk rolls his eyes and darts back to the control booth. “Sorry, Lars. There’s no control for music.”

I close my eyes and try to resign myself to listening to “Thriller” for the whole ride.

Kirk flops in the seat next to me, snuggling in and closing the lap board.

Strong fingers curl around my wrist and those lips are at my ear again. “Scared yet, Uli?”

Trust me, Kirk. Parts of me are scared stiff.

Years of practice give me the strength to fake up a smile and pretend that his thigh pressed against mine doesn’t have me so keyed up that a twitch could have me gasping. He just had to put me in the side where there’s no way to escape.

Trapped in a nice little space with Kirk pressed against me, his breath warm and loud in my ear. One of my fantasies is turning into my hell. How fucking new.

“The only scary thing here is Michael fucking Jackson, Quirk.” I’d like to think that my voice isn’t quivering.

Kirk snickers softly, his lips brushing against my ear. “Poor Uli. I’ll protect you from the evil Jackson child.”

Please. Quirk couldn’t fucking protect himself from a stray kitten, let alone me from… anything, really. There are reasons why I tried to keep him out of the Napster fiasco as much as he’d let me.

The big doors groan their way open. They cover for my own moan as Kirk shifts over, almost on to my fucking lap. My hands clutch at the edge of the table until my knuckles turn white. I almost jump out of my skin as the nice plastic bat on a string goes swinging past my head.

It’s worth it though, if only for the laugh it gets from Quirk. “Damn. This is gonna be fun,” he giggles.

The door slams shut behind us, accompanied by the traditional evil laughter.

“You are very brave… and very foolish,” the bad Dracula informs us. “Perhaps you will live to regret your choice.”

Kirk giggles again, and I debate the merits of coming in my pants.

Shadows flit across the walls, accompanied by strange scratching noises. Great, this place probably has rats.

“You have woken my pets,” Drac growls. “All creatures of the night demand their due… in blood.”

I’ll deny it to my dying day, but yeah, I jump like a little girl, batting at light and threads when they brush my face.

Kirk’s still giggling, patting my thigh lightly. I really hate this. Why couldn’t James have… oh, that’s right. Alcoholic coma. How silly for me to forget.

My sigh gets drowned out as the next set of doors comes open with a squeak and a sudden flare of psychodelic circus music. Something swings towards my face without warning, making me grab Kirk’s arm with an explosive “Jesus Christ!”

Kirk nearly doubles over the restraint bar in for what for a second I mistake as the normal instinct to duck when random shit comes flying at your face. Then it occurs to me that he’s shaking all over for an entirely different reason. His giggling is getting drowned out by the high, piercing cackle coming from my other side.

Fuck. I’m almost afraid to look.

Craning my head a little to the side, I catch sight of yellowed teeth in a painted up face. Pinpoint eyes leer out of a wrinkled face caked thick with crumbling makeup. One animatronic hand holds out what was coming at my face. A fucking plastic balloon.

“There are few things more frightening than innocence defiled,” drawls Drac from the speakers. Like most tourists would know what defiled means… “Behold the consequences of corruption. Won’t you take his hand?”

“Cheesy,” Kirk mutters from beside me. His head is still down on the table, his hair hiding most of his face, yet I can still see him smirking at me. When I just look at him, he raises his head to stroke my arm with callused fingertips, tracing a line of fire down my bare skin. That takes my breath away harder than anything else in this cheap shithouse has yet. “You okay there, Uli? Looking kind of pale.”

“This is nothing,” I manage, and look away. The fucking clown is safer right now.

The garish curtains ahead of us part as we trundle along. Wild screams and growls resound through the musty air, and I swear that I can see the flash of eyes in the shadows.

Kirk perks up. “Now this is more like it.”

“Not of human, not of beast, not of the living, not of the dead,” Drac drones on.

“They’ve met James the morning after a binge?” Kirk whispers.

Hopefully, he passes my shiver off to either the cold or my fear.

We pass through the room without anything jumping out at us. “Must have a live haunt in here,” Kirk says.

Even he yelps a little as the car tilts slightly, beginning its way up an incline.

“Come to me, my brave victims,” Drac coos.

Kirk’s fingers tighten on my thigh and I fight the urge to jump. “Cool,” he breathes.

“Fucking bizarre is more like it,” I sulk back at him, more to kill the silence and the pressing darkness than anything else. In daylight, sun would show through the cracks in the walls, but now I can’t see an inch in front of my face. If it wasn’t for Kirk’s fingers on my thigh, I’d be a hell of a lot less calm than I am now.

Finally, we get to the top of the incline while the car shudders and jerks in a less than reassuring manner. There’s a light above the door, thankfully, dim but there. Just enough that I can see Kirk’s upturned face. He has that Mona Lisa smile on his face, just the slightest curve of his lips. I’d be scared if I didn’t want to lean over and trace it with my tongue.

This set is gothic, plastic doors made to look like dark carved wood. They open silently, unlike everything else in this goddamned place.

Inside is the stereotypical goth’s wet dream. Wrought iron candelabras loaded with unlit white candles, black paint layered on the walls, and coffins leaning everywhere. A genuine fucking coffin, dark mahogany trimmed up with silver, leans up against the side of the tracks. The car slows, just a little, as it goes past.

Christ. This couldn’t even scare me, let alone anyone who’s even heard about a haunted house before. Cheesy as hell. I glance towards Kirk to comment on it, and stop cold.

Kirk’s sitting absolutely still, dark eyes roaming around the room, taking in every inch. His lips are parted, and his smile looks hungry. He looks like he’s about to come in his fucking pants.

He doesn’t even bat an eye when the coffin opens and Drac pops out, cackling wildly. His lips are moving, though. I have to lean in close to hear him.

“Sweet… red satin,” he breathes.

Y’know, I’d fucking kill to hear my name in that voice. “What’s red satin?” I ask.

“The coffin interior,” he says, ending on a yell to be heard over a sudden high-pitched whine. His eyes go a little wide. “Oh, ick.”

I glance over, seeing the glowing red eyes over a blood-spattered mask. Oh, the possessed dentist, always good for a cringe.

The whine grows louder and Kirk cringes, ducking his head against my neck. After all the work he had done on his teeth, I don’t blame him for being squeamish- okay… they’re using laughing gas. They must be.

Otherwise, Kirk’s nibbling my neck. The touch is gone before I can verify it, and Kirk’s back to sitting calmly with that inscrutable smile.

The doors shriek open, and we glide into a pitch black room. As soon as the doors shut the air is split by unearthly howls, and the dark comes alive with glowing eyes.

“Werewolves,” Kirk whispers, the soft breath sending chills down my spine.

Werewolves, I can deal with. Maybe not Kirk breathing in my ear, soft and warm and completely maddening, but wolves, yes. I squirm away from him, pressing against the side of the car. It might make the growing bruise across my stomach protest, but it’s the lesser of two evils.

Warm breath gusts against my ear, the ear away Kirk, making me freeze up. The hitch in my breathing sounds impossibly loud in the dark. Fuck, would it have killed them to put in some goddamned brighter lights for those animal eyes?

“It’s just animatronics,” Kirk purrs from beside me. His voice has dropped into that husky growl, the one you just can’t imagine coming from this flaky, pretty little thing. He sounds just as bestial as the howls and snarls coming from around us.

No. I will not be intimidated by Quirk Fucking Hamlet. Wiping my sweaty hands on my thighs, I toss my head once more for my benefit than because he can actually see it. “Fucking kiddie shit.” There. That sounded almost snarky. “What’s next, a pop-up skeleton?”

Light sneaks in from God knows where, casting just enough light that I can see Kirk’s upturned face. His smile is sweet wickedness, promising heaven and hell. His hand slides up my thigh, coming dangerously high, then slides back down with a whisper of leather.

“Hold on tight, Uli,” he murmurs in my ear, making my name sound like everything pure that it’s not.

And the world drops out from under us.

Yes, that was me screaming, why do you ask?

As we fall, Vincent Price’s insane laughter dies out, replaced by a familiar sounding growl.

“Hush little baby, don’t say a word, and never mind that noise you heard…” I should so fucking sue.

Something flashes past us, something silvery and sharp and wicked-looking. As I flinch it whips past again, some sort of swinging blade.

I compound my earlier scream by flinching into Kirk, not to protect him, but silently seeking protection. Jesus, I’m a fucking pussy.

A light blossoms beneath us, growing brighter. I can almost hear the crackle of flames. In front of us, the pendulum swings, barring escape.

As we jolt forward, towards the blade, I hazard a glance at Kirk. His eyes are wide, mouth slack. His breath is coming in short pants. His eyes flicker to me, and I swear, my own breath stops.

This must be how the wolf looks at a lamb.

For a split second, he wavers towards me, those predatory eyes on me, holding me trapped and still. I swallow, afraid to even twitch one way or the other. Something in me is tightening, begging for…

The door burst open with a blast of organ music right beside my ear, jerking me out of the daze. Kirk’s hand twitches on my thigh once, then slides quietly away. I guess he just figured out that his hand was somewhere less than pure. Naturally… it’s me, after all.

Glancing around, mostly as an excuse not to look at Kirk, I realize that we’re back at where we started. Ride’s over. Thank God.

A low, supposedly sinister laugh rises around us as the animatronic Drac begins his schpiel again. I’m tempted to haul off and smack the stupid thing into silence, but considering my track record tonight I’d break my hand.

Easy, Ulrich. Only a few more seconds, and then you can get out and run like hell back to the hotel. Denial is a good thing; it’ll protect me. All I have to do is hold out until this fucking ride stops.

Except it’s not stopping.

As we go past the place we started from, past the wooden safety platform, past the control panel, I finally break down and look at Kirk. “Uh, Hamlet…? When does it end?”

Kirk blinks, all wide-eyed, startled innocence. He didn’t plan this. Something’s wrong. Biting his lip lightly, he puts one hand down on the restraint bar and grips until his knuckles go pale. “Must’ve hit the wrong switch.” With a sweet, rueful smile and shrug, he puts his hands down in his lap. “Oops.”

Oops. We’re trapped in a fucking haunted house that we just so happened to break into at his urging, and all he can come up with is a fucking ‘oops’? I’m going to wrap my hands around his alluring neck and squeeze, once I remember how steady breathing works.

“Relax, Uli,” Kirk mutters, reaching for the latch. “I’ll just get out and shut it- fuck. Must be controlled by the computer.”

I debate scaling up into paranoia before I choke him, when I notice that he’s breathing deliberately, slowly. Shit, he must be panicked.

As the clown leers at me, I lean towards him, not sure what comforting I can do, but willing to try.

Instead, I have to jerk back as Kirk's leg bends sharply, at a damned unnatural angle. Yoga? He’s doing yoga? Oh… I blink as his other leg slides up to join in, straightening out so he’s sitting on top of the lapboard. I try to duplicate it, but no go. I’m flexible, but not that fucking flexible.

Kirk pats my shoulder. “I’ll go find the release, then we can go back to the hotel.”

I nod, biting back a wayward wave of fear. I mean, it’s fucking cheesy, but it’s also a dark, abandoned warehouse.

Kirk doesn’t even blink, bending to kiss my cheek. “Not long, Uli. Then, you’ll get your reward.”

I blink as he disappears into the darkness, leaving me alone with the spooks.

I can tell when Kirk reaches the control booth. All the lights go dark, leaving the car to climb towards Drac’s room, his voice stopping mid-cackle. Jesus, couldn’t he have killed the music too?

I may never hear Vincent Price without cringing ever again.

It finally jerks to a complete stop somewhere in the middle of Dracula's room, I think.

I close my eyes in the dark, trying to resist the urge to fidget. Any semblance of cool I may have ever had is now gone, but that doesn’t mean I have to go all out spastic.

Sitting still doesn’t work too well. I can get my legs to be still, just because I manage to bang my knee painfully into the lap board a few times. My hands are another matter. They go of their own accord, drumming out a nervous staccato on the table that makes me wish idly for a tape recorder. Of course, then I’d have to edit out the little scratching noises coming from around me. Rats. Literally.

God, I hate this. I hate being trapped and I hate being helpless and I hate sitting still and I hate the thought of Quirk stumbling around out there in the dark and I hate that my hands won’t stop shaking and I hate this fucking ROOM and-

Something in the darkness creaks, very softly, and I can feel my heart stop.

“Kirk?” My voice sounds strained, edgy. I can’t work up the energy to actually care. I’ve seen Kirk have his breakdowns, he can goddamned well witness what might shape up to be the mother of all panic attacks. “Kirk!”

“Shh!” The soft, sibilant whisper comes from somewhere behind me, making my head snap around. “A little nervous, Uli?”

“Fucking Christ, what the hell took you so long?” I grab the restraint bar and shake it, hard. It stays stuck. “Undo the goddamned lock already!”

He chuckles, very quietly. What might be a fingertip traces down the back of my neck and is gone before I can look, leaving me swatting and cursing at the darkness.

With a click, light flares on to the floor. I flinch, then blink at the flashlight in Kirk’s hand. It’s too dim to cast any real light, throwing shadows across the floor. I can’t see his face.

“No,” he says, soft but clear, firm as a fucking rock.

“Why the fuck not, you cunt?!” A night’s worth of frustration makes me explode. Kirk doesn’t even have the decency to blink.

“Because, Lars baby,” and the purr changes his voice from rock to steel, “tonight we’re going to play a game called ‘I’m in fucking charge’.” His hand slides off my shoulder, almost petting, then pushes me back against the seat hard enough that I stay there. “Deal.”

Great, Kirk’s decided to have an authoritative moment. Wonderful timing. “Kirk, we really need-“

I jump as a sharp scratching noise cuts me off. Light blooms from the match in his hand. With barely a glance, he touches it to the nearby candles. Amazingly, they’re real, not electric.

“Kirk, you’re gonna set off the fucking smoke alarms. Come on, quit dicking around and let’s-“ I break off as he sits calmly down on the lap board, shaking his head. “Quirk?”

For a moment, everything is still, and I wonder if he’s ignoring me. I lift my hand slowly, ignoring the last shaky vestiges of adrenaline. I brush the long dark ringlets first, giving him time to move away if it bothers him.

Instead, he leans into it, letting me stroke his cheek. “You all right, Kirk?”

After a second, he nods. I’m still worried. He’s breathing like he’s in the middle of the “Master” solo, but if this is a breakdown, it’s the quietest one he’s ever had.

Then he looks down at me. Even in the dim light, I can see the wide fathomless pupil, ringed by a sliver of brown.

“Do you know what I’m doing, Lars?” he asks, light voice silky, sensual.

I shake my head, and he leans down, lips against my ear. His hands land on my shoulders, holding me still when I would have squirmed.

“I’m trying to decide which would be better,” he growls, his hand sliding inward to trace my collarbone. “The couch, or the coffin.”

“Better for what?” That wasn’t even close to steady. If my jeans were looser, my cock would be banging against the board, just like my knee did.

Sharp teeth fasten on my earlobe for a heartbeat even as the fingers slide down, toying with my nipple ring. “Why, to fuck you senseless on,” Kirk growls.

My breath hitches loudly in my throat as the air is startled out of me. I struggle to sit up, but his hands aren’t moving on my chest, except to tease at the little ring of gold through my nipple. “What?!” I manage to squeak out finally. “Kirk-“

“Shut up, Lars.” The fondness in his voice has an undercurrent of steel. Yet I keep going anyway.

“Did you just say you were going to-“

“Fuck you. Yes.” His lips brush against the curve of my ear, making me twitch. “I’m going to fuck you, Lars. Slow and hard. While you whimper and beg.”

Oh, God. I’ve died and gone to… is this heaven or hell? I can’t decide. I can’t think with his lips sliding slowly up and down my throat. Just a light brush of skin. It’d almost be soothing if it wasn’t for that occasional brush of teeth against my jugular.

“Kirk…” My voice sounds breathy, disgustingly weak. “We can’t-“

He pulls back to stare down at me so intensely I flinch out of instinct. His eyes are heavy-lidded, deeply enough to drown me as he says flatly, “Do you want me to stop?”

My heart’s pounding in my ears, too fast and too loud. I wonder if he can hear it. “We can’t. James… the fans… the band…”

He brings one hand down, hard, on the table, nearly startling me into a yelp. His expression is not entirely giving as he glares at me. “No, Lars,” he growls, in that tone that means that I just fucked up somehow. “I didn’t ask that. Fuck James, fuck the fans and fuck the band’s goddamned image. Just for this second…” He blows out a breath hard enough that I feel it ruffle my hair. Then he lays callused fingers against my cheek. “What the fuck do you want, Uli? Tell me and I’ll give it to you. I’ll make you come screaming, over and over until you pass out from exhaustion, if you want. I’ll leave you alone and we can go home, if you want. But you have to fucking tell me what you want. And I’m not going to take ‘we shouldn’t’ for a goddamned answer this time.”

Coherent thought is a memory. All that I can focus on is that Kirk wants to fuck me. I close my eyes, imagining him inside me, above me, and for a moment, the image alone is enough to make me whimper.

Kirk, damn him, just chuckles. “What’ll it be, Lars? My cock inside you, hot and hard for you, or a six pack and your right hand?”

Like there’s a fucking choice? “Yes, please, Kirk. Hard, until I can’t remember my own name, much less the band’s.”

He smiles that dark predatory smile, and slides gracefully off the car, kicking lightly at the side. Immediately the lap board pops up, freeing me.

Kirk smiles, slipping back in to kneel on the seat. His lips find mine, kissing me firmly, keeping my head pressed against the seat.

His hands are everywhere at once, stroking my neck, sliding the zipper of my shirt down so warm hands can delve inside.

A callused fingertip flick my nipple at the same moment that his tongue darts out to trace the bow of my lips.

I’m giving serious consideration to making an even bigger idiot of myself by coming in my pants, when Kirk’s fingers slide down to trace the zipper of my jeans.

“Kirk!” If he hadn’t lifted it, I’d have just crippled myself on the board, judging from the way my hips jerked.

“Hmm?” He keeps right on stroking, just featherlight touches. That warm tongue flashes out again, drawing my lower lip between those teeth.

I whimper sharply, arching up into him. He doesn’t let me go very far. All I can do is press myself harder against his lightly stroking hand. When I try to lean up into the kiss, press my lips against his and taste him, he pulls away and shakes his head at me with a mock scowl.

“Kirk…” Damn, I’m whining. I try to reach for him, and get my hands firmly pressed down again. Worse, he moves his hand away from my cock. Fucking tease.

My glare doesn’t seem to affect him that impressively. When I finally sink back against the seat, he smiles and leans down to cover my lips in what could almost be a kiss, if he didn’t sink his teeth in when I tried to lick at his lower lip.

Pulling his head away, he ignores my aborted grab at his hands and says simply and with an authority that even James would envy, “Lars, what the fuck did I say?”

“You’re going to fuck me.”

His eyes flare. God, his pupils are dilated until the only thing showing is dark. He’s primed. Just a touch and I could have him, just a touch… “Before that.”

My fried brain searches blindly for a moment as I look at Kirk in what probably resembles open-mouthed stupidity. He smirks and traces his fingertip against my lower lip. I take advantage, flicking my tongue against his skin. He lets out a soft, low growl of pleasure that skitters over my nerves and straight to my cock. Sad, that his noises make me want to moan. Sadder, that he pulls his finger away before I can draw it into my mouth and suck until he forgets that he asked me a question.

“Well?” His touch slides up my thigh, finding and tracing the seam of my jeans. I bite my lip, but the sudden, panting moan slips through anyway. He uses his nails on the next stroke, adding just a little pressure, and purrs. “So hard, baby. Just begging me to slide my tongue over you, draw you into my mouth and suck-“

Fuck my pride. I twitch into him, trying and failing to get enough room to squirm. “Please-!”

“Just tell me what I want to hear, Lars, and I will. Don’t you want that?”

I hate the fact that my breath comes out in a sob. “You’re in charge. You’re in fucking charge, you cunt, now move!”

He moves, all right. Unfortunately, he moves away. Then one strong hand curls around my neck, urging me to follow.

Thank fuck, he’s heading for the couch instead of the coffin. That might be a little much. He turns, facing me with a wicked smile playing at the corners of his lips.

“Sit,” he orders.

“I’m your fucking pet now?” I bitch.

A sharp slap lands on my ass, nearly sending me through the ceiling. Another quickly follows, the sting going straight to my cock.

“Now that you mention it…” Kirk leans down, his teeth fastening on my neck, biting and sucking until I know that I’ll be wearing a turtleneck tomorrow.

I’m whimpering, fingers flexing, needing to touch. “Kirk, please.” Oh, I’m gonna hate myself for this later.

“Mine,” he growls. “Now, sit, Uli. And watch.”

I drop obediently on the sofa, and he takes a step back, fingers going to the zipper of his leather coat. It lands on the floor, followed by the loose t-shirt under it. Then, his hands going to the button of his jeans.

The denim slides down slowly, as Kirk runs his fingertips over the flames branded on his hips. They slide to his ankles with a rustle of fabric and I fight the urge to swallow my tongue.

Holy fuck, Kirk’s gone regimental.

One black lacquered fingertip slides over his cock, already hard and dripping. “See how much it wants to be inside you, Uli? So hot and tight…” he trails off with a blissful little mewl as his finger circles the head.

I arch up in the seat, squirming, achingly hard in sympathy. “Kirk, please…”

He ignores me, his head falling slowly back as his fingers trail down, circling around the base and beginning a slow stroke. I can see the precum on the head of his cock, slick and shiny in the flickering half-light. It drips off on his long fingers, making soft wet noises as he strokes harder. I want to lick it away.

“Like that, Lars?” he pants, his hips rocking slowly into his hand. “God, baby, look at what you do to me. Make me so fucking hard. Like watching me get myself ready for you?”

“Going to kill you,” I grit out between my teeth, fighting not to get up and pounce on the little cocktease.

He snorts, even as his hands slide further down to toy with his balls. “When I’m done with you, you’ll be too tired to try and too grateful to care.”

It’d be cheesy as hell if it wasn’t accompanied by that smoldering look, the one that screams that he’s picturing me naked and writhing under him. I shiver, losing any hope of saving face with a sarcastic sneer. Want his hands on me… “God, Kirk, please. I need…”

I arch, eyes closing. The light tug at my jeans startles me, and there’s another one of those whimpers.

Fingers so used to flying on a fretboard make quick work of my zipper, urging me to lift my hips.

His eyes rake over me, and I fight the urge to cover myself. I’m in good shape for a nearly forty year old, but when faced with Kirk… damn.

He sinks to his knees, and his hands slide up my thighs. “God, you’re beautiful, Uli. There isn’t an inch of you that I haven’t dreamed of tasting.”

He proves it by leaning in and gently mouthing at my nipple, teeth tugging at the ring.

Oh, fuck, that feels good… “Kirk,” I moan.

“Shh, baby,” Kirk soothes, bending and nuzzling at my stomach. “I’ve got you now.”

“Need you,” I beg shamelessly. Fuck everything. I need him inside me. Now.

Kirk spreads my legs gently, and I feel his hot breath on my balls. God, please…

Then, it slides lower and thought flies from my mind. Kirk wouldn’t… oh fuck…

It takes me a second to recognize the sharp, keening mewl that splits the room as my own. Kirk’s mouth is so fucking hot where it’s pressed against my entrance, his tongue flicking across the sensitive skin. The feeling of his moaning purr makes me gasp.

“Yes…” he hisses, his soft voice muffled against my skin. His breath slides hot and cold over my fevered skin. “That’s it, Lars baby. Let it come. Let me touch you.”

I don’t have a chance to do much more than shudder before the tip of his tongue presses in. Then I’m as good as lost.

It’s both too soon and an eternity before the slow flicker and slide of Kirk’s sweet mouth dwindles down to a stop. My fingers dig into the couch as I moan helplessly. A gently kiss on the back of my thigh, and then Kirk comes up for air.

He looks down at me, something entirely too amused in  the smug curve of his mouth. His fingertips brush against the underside of my cock, and slide away as I suck in a sharp breath through my teeth. Licking at his fingertips, he smirks down at me. “Mmm… sweet baby. All nice and responsive for me… I could have made you come like that, without even touching your cock.”

I let my head thump against the couch, trying to make the ache ease the need to come. It works, for about two seconds. Then that warm mouth closes around my nipple, tugging and teasing at the ring. His hands press hard against my hips, keeping me flat against the sofa when I try to arch. One long finger slides down, brushing at the base of my cock.

“So hot,” he croons against my skin, ignoring me while I squirm and struggle not to whine. “Such a good little pet for me.”

“I’m not your fucking-“ My growl cuts off on a mewl as he strokes a finger up my cock, sliding up and down and back again.

“You were saying?” Kirk arches an eyebrow, smirking darkly. I think I’d kill him if I couldn’t see the tremor in his hands. He’s just as affected as I am.

Instead, I stretch languorously, meeting his eyes. “Yours, Kirk. Your anything, just please, need you inside me.”

Those exotic eyes flare, and a low breath slips from his full lips. “Fuck, Uli, how could I resist an offer like that?”

Instead of approaching me, that secret smirk touches his mouth again, and he turns, walking towards the casket.

Oh, no fucking way…

“Kirk, I really don’t think…” He silences me with one dark glare.

The lid pops open with a barely audible click, and Drac pops out from the interior. With a slight smirk, Kirk lifts the whole mechanism out, sitting it on the ground.

Then he runs his fingertips over the scarlet interior. His eyes close, enjoying the silky feel. He looks like he’s gonna fucking come just from that. Kirk is so not normal.

His eyes land on me, and I tense. “Come here, Lars,” he orders. “Time to get fucked, baby.”

Damn him. And damn me for walking towards him. Is he worth this?

His lips curve, and one hand extends, motioning for me. “Can’t wait to have you under me, around me, baby. So fucking sexy…”

I shiver, the soft words going through me like an actual touch. He can’t be doing this with just his voice. I can’t be drifting towards him like an animal coaxed close enough to take food from his master’s hand. I can’t seem to draw in a full breath.

“That’s it,” Kirk breathes, reaching out. His fingertips aren’t quite close enough to brush against my skin. “Come to me, Uli. Trust me.”

His touch skims against my cheek, and something in me snaps. With a gasp like I’m drowning, I grab on to his arms and pull myself closer, tilting my head up for a desperate kiss. I can’t think about this, won’t let myself freak out. I am in fucking control.

I’m trembling.

Kirk purrs against my lips, giving a soothing nuzzle for my every almost violent nip and lick. His hands smooth over my shoulders, sliding off the last few pieces of clothes left from before. Then his arms close around me, holding me still even as I squirm. His naked thigh slides between mine, holding my legs apart as his hands begin to roam. The maddening slide of those talented hands keep be distracted, off guard.

That’s why I half-yelp as those strong arms curl around me and lift. Kirk makes a soft panting, straining noise, and I wait to be dropped on my ass.

Instead of cold concrete, satin slides up my spine as I get laid down with a quiet thump. Kirk manages not to drop me completely, just enough to make me start. Coffins aren’t padded for soft landings.

Coffin. Christ, I’m in a fucking coffin.

Kirk makes a little protesting noise as my hands clutch at his arms, then sighs. He burrows his way into the place between my shoulder and my throat, fastening his lips to my pulse for a moment before raising his head. The warmth of his mouth and his body pressing mine down into the satin still isn’t quite enough to distract me from the faint smell of dust.

“Relax, Lars,” he whispers against my ear. His hands slide down my side, petting, soothing. “Fucking relax. I won’t let anything happen to you. Just take it easy.”

There’s something soothing in that, something disturbing in the realization that I actually believe him. Squeezing my eyes closed tight, I struggle to calm the pounding of my heart.

When I finally force my eyes open, Kirk’s staring at me with an amused fondness. “Okay now?”

He punctuates the question with a light tug at my nipple ring.

I bite back the whimper that boils up in my throat and nod. “Yeah.”

He stretches, arching against me like a cat. “Mmm… good. Now, tell me what you want, my little pet.”

I’d protest the name, I swear I would, if he wasn’t still playing with my nipple.

“Please, Kirk…” I hold out for another moment, until he tilts his hips against me, and I feel the sticky wetness against my thigh. “Fuck me, fuck me hard,” I beg.

He smiles, evil and in control. “In a coffin, Uli? What would the fans say?”

I reach for him, only to have my hands grabbed and held above my head. “Talk to me, Lars. Tell me that you want me.”

He rocks his hips against me and I mewl, on the edge of begging.

“Tell me that you want me,” he purrs. “That you want my cock buried ball deep in your ass, fucking you slow and deep in this nice coffin. Tell me,” he commands.

Well, that’s pretty clear. Complete surrender. That’s all Kirk will accept from me.

For him, for Kirk… I can give it. “Fuck the fans. I need you, Kirk. Need you inside me.”

His kiss is oddly gentle, desperate and sweet. The weight on me shifts and those fingers curl around my thighs, lifting me, spreading me open for him.

A fingertip teases at my entrance, delving just inside. I hiss at him through my teeth, eyes narrowed. He smirks, shaking his head, and slides the finger deeper. Then he crooks it to catch my prostate, and I moan loudly enough to be heard outside.

With a purr, Kirk nuzzles against my throat. “Damn, baby. So fucking sensitive.” Those full lips that promise sin twitch up at the corners. “I kinda like that.”

My hips jerk up against his touch as I growl at him. “I’m ready. Don’t need lube. Fuck me!”

“Quiet,” he commands without even the courtesy of an upwards glance, his eyes fixed on the sight of his finger sliding in and out of me.

“Kirk,” I start to whine.

His hand connects with my hip with a sharp slap. It’s more startling than actually painful, just a bit of a sting, but it makes my hips jerk up into his hand. Which, in turn, drives his finger deeper. Which, in turn, makes me gasp like I’d been decked.

Kirk raises his eyes and allows himself a very slight smirk. His fingers curl over the place he slapped, rubbing slow circles. It would almost be sweet, if he wasn’t sliding another finger into me as he did it. The rhythm he sets is maddening at best, stroking me from the inside at a pace so slow I’m tempted to beg again. That would probably just encourage him.

So, I mewl at him instead.

“Shh… soon, my pet.”

Well. Okay. That could have worked better. Biting at my lower lip, I try again, hooking my feet behind his back and trying to nudge him forward.

He presses his fingertip hard against my prostate in retaliation, making me gasp and close my eyes. “Please,” I moan, digging my fingers into the satin. I can smell his arousal, sweet and heady. “Need you inside me. Need to come.” When he doesn’t answer, I pant out, “Please!”

For a long moment, I’m afraid that it didn’t work. Then he sighs, and his fingers flex inside me one more time.

“Just this once, pet.” His fingers slip out of me and I moan, hips jerking as I try instinctively to reclaim his touch.

He levers himself onto his elbows. “Wrap those tight thighs around me, Uli. I’m going to sink so deep inside you that you’ll think I’m trying to crawl into your skin.”

I obey, wrapping my legs around the slim hips. I swear I can feel those damned flames hot against my thighs.

“So sexy,” Kirk purrs. “Going to fuck you so hard, baby.”

Jesus, fuck me! “Kirk, dammit!”

The last word comes out in a startled squeak as his fingers tease over my cock, playing with the loose foreskin.

“You’ve got such a nice cock, Lars. So thick and big. And uncircumcised. I think, if you’d like, one day I’d like to have it up my ass.”

Brain has shorted out. Still tugging at the foreskin with a delicious friction, oh god, please.

“But, right now, you look like you’re about to burst, so…” he trails off and I feel a slow, deep pressure at my entrance.

My breath comes on a low moan, a hiss of “yes…” as his cock begins the slow slide inside me. God, that feels impossibly good, the slightest ache into the sweetest pleasure. I whimper, pleading, as he sinks home with a hiss of satisfaction.

Then, his hips are pressed against the back of my thighs, hot skin to hot skin. I can feel his breath against my throat, quiet and ever so slightly labored. Nice to know that I’m not the only one suffering.

Finally, with a shudder and a low moan, he lifts his head to stare down into my face. The eye contact is almost too much, too intense. Those dark eyes demand everything from me, all my secrets and sins. And God help me, I’d be happy to give them.

With a trembling hand, he strokes my cheek with his knuckles and manages a shaky smile. “God,” he breathes, his eyes scanning my face like it holds all the fucking answers to life. “Just like I’d dreamed. So fucking tight, so perfect…”

Perfect. Yeah, that’s me. Right.

I tilt my head into his hand, kissing at his fingers, licking at his palm. I let my eyes do the begging for me.

It takes him a moment, but finally he moves. Strong hips rock back, withdrawing almost completely. Then, with a smooth motion, he glides back in, angling the thrust.

Pleasure, white hot and intense, rips through my body, and I let out a strangled noise.

Kirk smiles, bending to lick at my lips. “So fucking beautiful, Uli. So damned sensitive. Do you want me to touch you, make you come?”

I can’t find the voice to answer, caught between the unrelenting pleasure of his body, so hard and deep inside me, and the ache of his words, tearing into my soul.

Never enough. Crap drummer, fucking dictator, lawyer happy dick… never good enough. Never strong enough to keep the demons from him, to keep James pacified. Never enough…

“So fucking good, Uli. So tight, everything I ever wanted,” Kirk mewls, his hand beginning to gently work my length.

Never enough… until tonight. The ache, the doubts, the niggling fear that tomorrow, he’ll be back to gloves and flinches, they’re all being burned to cinders in the slow spread of fire through me.

All that matters is me, Kirk and this slow burn we’re created.

Letting my eyes drift halfway closed, I arch up into him, his hard lean body and his steady thrusts. The sound of his harshening breathing in my ear drowns out the accusations in my head. His hips slap against the back of my thighs.

“So good…” I didn’t know my voice could sound like that, desperate and strong all at once. “God, so hard in me…”

Kirk makes a soft gasping, hitching noise, his expression tightening and relaxing for a split second as he fights the pleasure down. It’s bizarrely the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

Reaching up, I slide my hands down his back, digging my nails in when he ignores me. The way his hips jerk is a nice encouragement, especially since it presses hard against my prostate again. God, that’s good…

“Let me come.” It comes out a ragged mewl. I just can’t seem to care anymore. “Kirk, please!”

He makes a short, sharp growling noise, like some exotic jungle cat in heat. His fingers tighten on my cock, tugging, stroking. Yes, God, good… I need…

“That’s it,” Kirk growls. It should sound odd, coming from those perfect, almost feminine lips, but instead it’s perfect, a sensual rasp over my nerves. “Want to see you come for me, Uli. Just for me, so beautiful, so sexy…”

“Please,” I mewl, arching wantonly.

His hand tightens on me, and I lose it, screaming and sobbing wildly, watching the world dim around me.

I catch a momentary flash of surprise and some other, harder to define emotion on Kirk’s face. Then, his breath catches on a startled caterwaul, and I feel his hips pistoning against me, desperate and uneven.

The flood of warmth inside me makes me moan, and I close my eyes against a sudden sting of tears. It’s not everyday that dreams come true.

And for nearly twenty years I’ve wanted to touch him, hold him, love him- oh fuck. Please, please tell me that I didn’t say the words I think I said when I came?

Please tell me I didn’t blurt out “I love you” like some stupid teenager?

I’m an idiot. God, I’m such a fucking moron, so caught up in the illusion of peace that I forgot who I am. Who he is.

Will not open eyes. Cannot open eyes. I’m just going to pretend that none of this happened. Maybe he’ll go away.

Kirk’s breathing, hot and hitching in my ear, begins slowly steadying out. I can feel his heartbeat against my chest. It hurts, like a knife twisting slowly in my gut. I know I can be a dick, but giving me this only to take it away is a new sort of cruelty.

Finally, with a low growling moan, Kirk brings his head up. His hair drags across my bare shoulder, pulling a last shiver out of me. I can feel the satin pressing down on either side of my head as Kirk props himself up with a sigh.

“Lars.”

No. Shut the fuck up and go away. I’ve made a complete ass of myself enough for tonight.

Another sigh. “C’mon, Uli. Open your eyes. I know you’re in there.” A callused fingertip slides across my cheekbone. I can feel the heat in my cheeks. “Baby, you’re not fooling me.”

Great, he’s going to push it. Jesus, Kirk, just let me curl up and die in peace.

“Uli,” he whispers. I shiver, feeling his warm breath on my shoulder.

He shifts back, petting my chest. “Lars, I can wait as long as you can.”

Motherfuck! Why isn’t he running to wash or something? I can’t do this, not right now.

I’m such a fucking idiot. How could I be that dumb?

A long minute ticks away, then another. Any second now, he’ll be spazzing. Any second now…

“Uli, open your eyes.”

I shake my head. Not happening, Kirk.

“Open your eyes,” he repeats, voice exasperated.

“No.” Please, Kirk. I don’t want to see the pity in them.

The voice comes again, and there’s no mistaking the steel in it. “Lars. Open your goddamned eyes.”

“Fuck you.” I try to put as much of a sneer as I can in the words, but the waver in my voice makes that a moot point. The sharp gasp as he drives his hips hard against my ass really doesn’t help.

“I just fucked you, babe. Can’t play right now. Maybe later, though.” Any teasing in his voice slides away as he growls, making it a command, “After you’ve opened your fucking eyes and stopped acting like such a little cunt.”

“I am not a cunt, you-“ The middle part of that comment finally catches up to me, startling me into opening my eyes. “Later?”

He sighs like I’m a complete idiot, which is looking more and more likely. “Yes, Lars. Later. Probably much later. Because neither of us are twenty years old anymore.”

Maybe I’m hallucinating. Or maybe I just passed out and I’m dreaming all of this. But that sounded remarkably like a fucked up sort of acceptance.

I slit one eye open, meeting the dark ones tentatively. Kirk smiles encouragingly. “Hi there,” he murmurs.

“Hej.” I can do this, casual, easy.

His smile brightens, and he leans down, kissing me sweetly. “You okay?”

I nod. “Yeah. I’m good.”

A gentle slide of his hand, and another light kiss. “Yeah?”

I shrug, smiling as he squirms, looking for a graceful way to get out of the coffin. Finally, he manages to get out, sliding to his feet.

Chuckling at his own clumsiness, he turns back to me, and I hold my hand out for a hand out.

“Oh, Uli?”

“Hmm?” I smile at him.

He bends slightly, kissing my lips. “I love you, too.”

The air comes out of my lungs in a hard, startled rush. He might as well have decked me. I’ve got this sick urge to grab his arms and squeak ‘really?’ like a teenaged girl. I don’t do it. Not out of dignity, but because I’m afraid of the answer.

To phrase it gently… Kirk’s a flake. A permanently damaged, fucked up, broken headcase. I can’t trust what he says; I learned that years ago, after months of hearing him slur out “of course I’m not on coke!” when his pupils were dilated and his hands were trembling like he was about to seize.

I bury my nose against his throat, breathing him in. Bastard. I came so close…

“Lars?” Kirk’s hand tucks loose hair gently behind my ear before it slides under my chin, forcing my head up before I can hide my expression. His eyes narrow to slits. “You don’t fucking believe me, do you?”

I push his hand away because it’s easier than looking into his eyes. I’d sit up if I could work up the energy, but my arms still feel like rubber. I have to settle for looking away, staring at the discarded Drac dummy on the floor. “Look, Quirk,” I try for a reasonable tone, “I know this was a convenient fuck and all, but-" Restlessly, I start to drum on the inside of the coffin. “I mean, alone in the dark in an abandoned haunted house- fuck, there are probably stains in this thing now-“

I expected curses, startled and hurt denials, at worst tears. But the sudden, rueful laugh brings my head up.

The coffin creaks as Kirk leans against it, dark eyes dancing with a suppressed giggle. Christ, he’s cracked. “You really think we broke in here, Uli?”

In the same general tone I’d use on a cornered animal or James on a binge, I explain carefully, "Yeah. You used the nail file, remember?”

Kirk blinks at me, then smirks and, with a shake of his head, ducks under the coffin. I hear rustling, then a moment later Kirk pops his head up.

In his hand is a small metal key.

I blink, staring dumbly at him. “What’s that?”

“The key to the metal shutter, you moron.” When I keep staring stupidly at him, he touches my cheek with a light smirk.

“But, how?”

He shakes his head, bending to kiss me fondly. “Uli… I know you’ve been busy, but come on!”

When I stare blankly at him, he pats my cheek, smirking.

“I came here yesterday, and talked to the owner. With all the people around,” he adds.

“You went out? In public? Alone?”

“God, you’re dense. Didn’t it occur to you that I’ve been doing more stuff lately? That I wasn’t coked out of my skull for the VH1 awards?”

“Sure, but… a boardwalk? I know how you normally feel about crowds- wait a minute. If you were here before then why drag me out to freeze my balls off?”

He growls in frustration. “Because it was the only way I could think of! I’ve all but thrown myself at you, and it was always ‘in a minute, Kirk, I’m busy, Kirk, what the fuck are you on, Kirk!’ Did you need a goddamn road map?”

I stare, remembering all the times he’s rubbed against me, touched me lately. And, yeah, I’ve brushed him off. Well, fuck.

Reaching out, I touch his hand and cautiously curl my fingers around his when he doesn’t shove me away. “I’m an idiot.”

He snorts. “Well, that went without saying.”

Difficult little bitch… with a sigh, I try again, almost choking on the words I’ve gone so long without saying. “I’m sorry.”

His expression softens. Leaning close, he kisses my neck lightly. “It’s no problem, Uli. I know how it’s been. But now you know how it is. You know?”

I’d need a fucking roadmap to follow that statement. “Huh?”

With a sigh and a tolerant roll of his eyes, he wraps his arms around me. I can hear it in his chest when he murmurs, “I do mean it, Lars. I love you.”

Something in me breaks with an almost audible snap, sliding back into place like a re-set bone. I swallow against a suddenly tight throat and press my head against his. For once, I can’t really think of anything to say.

Kirk kisses the side of my throat and pulls away. Putting his hands on my shoulders, he smiles warmly at me. “C’mon, baby. Let’s go home before we freeze.”

And for once, I’m happy to oblige.