Monroe had failed to resist Nick's persuasion. It started with a kiss at night before they slept; the first time had gotten out of hand with Monroe pinning Nick to the bed and leaving a nasty bite on his shoulder.

"No, that's it. I'm done," he had insisted, pacing in and out of the bathroom while Nick cleaned his wound.

"You are not done. You're just excited. We'll take it slower next time," Nick had assured him, though the bite did hurt and he was grateful for being able to hide it from his work colleagues. It wouldn't have been an easy one to explain.

They took it slow after that ; Nick would wait until they had gotten out of the bed before advancing on Monroe. He'd kiss him softly, brushing his thumb along his ears a little and then smile at him. "You're getting better at it," he said, as Monroe bounced his leg in distraction.

They advanced to cuddling and touching, though Monroe still found Nick's scent overbearing and took offence when Nick offered to roll around in some Wolfsbane.

"You are not an animal, Nick. I won't have you rolling around anywhere other than my bed."

"I'm ready," Monroe decided over breakfast Sunday morning.

Nick nodded, dropped the paper and rolled it up. "Good. I want to get to the mall early before the rush. We still haven't decided on a colour for the bedroom and don't say red." He dumped his dishes into the sink. "Grab your coat. Come on."

"I already told you I don't care what colour the bedroom goes," Monroe said, piling his dishes into the sink. "And I don't mean that kind of ready."

Nick started. He wasn't sure how to proceed and didn't want to seem too excited. They had spent a week taking it slow; their short kisses and gentle touches had been getting longer and rougher though. He was almost afraid that he'd lost Monroe all over again after he'd bitten his back – that last bite had hurt for days.

"Ready as in … ready?"

Monroe nodded slowly and looked as if he were contemplating his words. When he looked back to Nick though, his eyes gleamed with determination. "Ready as I'll ever be."

"Sooo … do we … go to the bedroom?" Nick wrung his hands around a towel. He could feel a flush in his cheeks, the very same he had felt when he was fifteen and his crush had kissed him back behind the school bleachers.

Monroe rocked on the balls of his feet, his fingers toying with the back of his neck. He shook his head abruptly, his cheeks mimicking Nick's flush. "No," he gasped, shrugging and flicking some crumbs from the counter. "I mean, we need to go pick out paint, right? And there's that clock I need to deliver at two and haven't you got files that you need to drop to Hank later?"

"Right! Yeah, the files." Nick tapped his pockets as if searching for them. He felt fifteen again. "So, we'll get paint and … the clock and … the files …"

"And we can get a take away or something later."

"Yeah. And a few beers maybe?"

"Scratch the beers. Intoxication may not be in our favor."

"Right. No beers. Got it." After a silence laced with awkwardness no teenager could dream to muster, Nick grabbed his keys and shrugged at the door. "Paint shopping?"

"Yep! Let's go."

"You've got a nice ass," Nick smiled, sneaking up behind him while he washed the dishes and wrapped both arms around his waist. They had managed the pizza, though it didn't satisfy their hunger much as neither was able to devote much attention to anything other than feeling awkward. Nick had perched himself on the edge of the couch the entire time, one eye watching CSI and the other watching Monroe. He had been tempted to lean over and take him there and then by surprise, but past events had taught him better than that.

Monroe snorted. "Some lunges, squats. It fills me out. You should try it sometime too."

"Are you calling me fat?"

"There's nothing wrong with some cushion for the pushin'." Monroe flicked the towel over his shoulder and turned to lean against the counter; he folded his arms over his chest. It wasn't an act of defence and he didn't want Nick to think he was closing him off, rather he wanted to make sure Nick was willing.

Nick lowered Monroe's arms and pulled them around his back, guiding them to his ass. "Be the judge then," he whispered, leaning up to brush their lips together.

Monroe closed his eyes and his fingers clenched. He inhaled Nick's scent; he could smell arousal, pheromones and anxiety. A flame within him kindled. His hands tightened their grip and he closed the gap between their lips, setting off a series of rumbles in his chest. Nick let him lead, submerging his weight against him. He allowed Monroe push him backwards out the door, trusting his partner to guide him through the living room without harm.

Monroe paused at the end of the stairs, eyes still closed and his breathing evenly paced. Nick could tell he was conflicted. "Baby," he rubbed the pad of his thumb along Monroe's lip, "You're doing fine."

"I'm going to ask you to do something," Monroe said and when his eyes opened Nick could see the light red hue beginning to shine. "Just do it without questioning me."

Nick nodded, though he couldn't hide the rising lump in his throat.

"Run," Monroe whispered, his eyes now burning a deep crimson.

And Nick did. He pushed Monroe away, ignoring the growl he heard and bounded up the stairs. Two at a time, he didn't think the panic could be as surreal as it felt; it was a mixture of both excitement and fear. His heart fluttered when he heard Monroe's steps behind him and as he swerved around the corner, the bedroom door just steps ahead of him, he admitted to himself that he had never felt such a mixture of lust and terror.