The wolf was noticeably absent when Dean took his position just outside the arena where he could swoop down from the crowd and "sneak" up on Seth.

He was not sure if the wolf had lost steam from making itself known after the grueling work out he undertook earlier in the day, or if the parasite was just all talk. He didn't much care as long as it stayed out of his head and out of his way.

Keen ears picked the resounding thump of Seth sending Roman's body into the mat with The Pedigree followed by a trifecta of mat slaps; the one, two, three, echoed by the fans. Dean opened the arena door, using his animal stealth to slip down towards the ring unnoticed by the commotion.

Seth was soaking in his short-lived scripted victory and so was the crowd.

Before his music hit, cuing him to conduct his ambush and consequential cash-in, Dean paused and ducked down unseen. He wanted to watch Seth and his infectious energy for a few moments longer.

The theme music changed and his lover faced the ramp, feigning that he was expected him to make an entrance from the stage in effort to get the fans to believe it too.

This was it.

Dean darted from his hiding placed and jumped the barricade. Sliding quickly into the ring behind Seth, he barely heard the roar of the crowd as he concentrated on lifting the briefcase to make his strike.

"Bash in his brains!" the wolf howled manically.

Seth turned around, just in time to see him coming.

But it was too late to stop it. His arms were already caught in an unyielding rapid motion aimed directly at Seth's skull.

'NO!'

Dean maneuvered his body in his forward momentum so that all of him crashed into the smaller man that way Seth failed to take the full brunt of the brutal blow. Even so, Seth crashed to a heap on the mat like he had been hit by a freight train.

He was motionless and it was uncertain if it was because he was playing things up or if he was really in trouble.

No matter how much Dean wanted to break keyfabe to check on his on-screen enemy, he was already in front of thousands of people and countless more watching at home. All he could do was play out his cash-in so he could get in close to Seth and subtly assess his condition.

Dean exited the ring; tendons standing out in his neck from stress and emotion, he demanded the ref ring the bell.

Thankfully, as the ref went to Lillian so she could announce the new match, he turned to see Seth stirring in the ring. Dean's heart gave a little jump of solace.

But he had to be sure.

Seth began to crawl sluggishly across the mat as he reentered the ropes, the continued movement an increasingly relieving sign. Slowly his lover rose on his hands and knees before finally making it to his feet, albeit wobbly.

Everything was okay.

The sliver of hope in Dean's chest grew until his blood thumped not with bloodlust, but an immense elation.

Grabbing Seth and hooking his arms, he gave his counterpart a few moments to process what was happening, then with more controlled fluidity, dropped Seth's head harmlessly onto the mat with Dirty Deeds for the pin.

Over ten years of hard work suddenly culminated and compressed itself into one moment.

Dean remembered very little after the bell rang. Little except snatching the belt from the ref's hands – claiming it like he always imagined he would, his bottled excitement from the earlier ladder match pouring forth like a maelstrom.

Dean Ambrose, WWE World Champion. Some would have never thought he would reach the top of the mountain, himself included at times.

It was his time now.

His time to build his legacy in this business, to make way for the future dreamers; his time to work on effectively shutting up the naysayers that had dogged him since the indies, saying that he wasn't good enough or couldn't hack it in WWE or as champion.

Hell he was off to a good start, because he shut that wolf up.

Time didn't begin to slow down again until he'd walked through the curtain backstage and was met with the many congratulatory faces of his co-workers, Roman and Seth at the forefront.

Seth immediately pulled him into a tight embrace. On the other hand Roman stood a little more stoic, but he surprised him by joining in on a Shield group hug.

At first Dean stiffened, suddenly unsure if he deserved everything he was receiving.

"I-I'm sorry for how I've been acting, Ro."

"You treat me and Seth to some beers and all will be forgiven."

Letting out a chuckle, Dean returned the gesture and encircled his two best friends affectionately with both arms. "Sounds like a plan."

"I always knew you had it in you," Seth said, "Never hadda doubt."

"This day's been a long time comin'," Roman agreed.

Dean's heart soared pleasantly in his chest, jet-powered by emotions he could and could not name.

"Thank you, guys, both of you."

"Don't get all mushy now, Ambrose," Roman joked, patting him good-naturedly on the back.

Nodding, Dean sniffed back the threatening tears and released his brothers, moving beyond them to receive the kind words and hugs from the rest of his peers.

Snap

Dean jumped at the blaring automated click that roused him from a sound sleep. The next thing he knew Seth's laughter was filling his ears and he found himself tangled up in bed sheets, cuddling his championship to his chest and his head pounding with an awful hangover.

Seth, the chipper morning person that he was, was already dressed, standing next to the bed with his phone.

"This is so going on Twitter."

"Don't you dare," Dean growled tiredly.

"But you look so cute, Champ," Seth chuckled teasingly, "Fine, fine, I'll just keep this for my private collection." He winked.

"You better," Dean warned without any heat, then groaned, "Damn what happened last night?"

After the downing over a few shots of Jack Daniels and probably a dozen bottles of beer, last night at the bar got really fuzzy, really quick. He recalled that Seth only partook in one beer, saying that he needed to keep sober for his role of designated driver.

"Well first you and Roman were pretty much inseparable, like you guys were two peas in a pod again. You then started apologizing over and over again, saying that you were such a dick because you got bitten by a werewolf."

Dean's eyes widened nervously, "Shit, I told him?"

"Don't worry, he was about as plastered as you were when you told him," Seth said, hands raised in placation, "Anyways, he said that he missed your face and your singing, so you decided to take over the karaoke stage and started singing the most horrible rendition of Rocky Mountain Way I've ever heard. You held your own freakin' concert, man."

"Shut up, my singing's great," he went to sit up in bed, but his throbbing head sent him flat on his back again, "Ugh…I guess being a werewolf doesn't help with hangovers…you gotta painkiller or something?"

Seth reached into his belongings and produced a bottle of pills. Dean took two tablets and swallowed them dry.

"So," Seth went on, "I ended up having to wrangle your rowdy asses back into the car before you drank yourselves into a coma, helped Roman to his hotel, then hauled your heavy ass in here."

"You then started getting all touchy-feely with me before stripping buck ass naked, strapped that title around your waist, saying, "I fuck like a champ too." You pulled me down into bed with you, but once your head hit the pillow, you were out like a light."

Dean peered under the blankets to discover he was indeed naked. He sighed and to hide his blush, curled up with his title pressed against his face.

His title. His WWE World Championship.

Dean's embarrassment gave way to a giddy smile as he examined its gold, diamond-encrusted beauty then he pressed a kiss to the lavishly decorated double W.

His little personal celebration was cut short when Seth pulled the blankets off his body, the cool air making him hiss in protest.

"C'mon, get ready. We're hitting the gym."

"Fuck off…" Dean groaned and flipped over onto his stomach, "my head's still killin' me."

All he received for his evasion was a stinging slap to his bare ass.

"Ow! God dammit! Let me sleep another hour, at least."

"Get up, Champ," Seth urged, "the full moon's tonight and I'm not talking about your ass."

Dean looked over his shoulder at his lover, his face becoming serious, "It's tonight?"

Seth nodded grimly, "That and we have RAW. We don't need you wolfing out on us on worldwide television."

"Alright, alright," Dean said, ignoring his still sensitive head and climbing out of bed.

Dean looked at himself in the mirror on the dresser as he pulled on some clothes. Never before had his human form looked so wild.

Though only one streak of white tainted his head of hair, those curls framed a decidedly sharper face covered in rugged stubble that wasn't there hours ago. Long nails adorned his fingers and now two pairs of fangs on each jaw were tapered to deadly points, his eyes burning embers of blue in his sockets.

Seth surely noticed such drastic changes before he did, but he said not a word about them.

About twenty minutes later they were in another gym, one of which thankfully provided them a private work out room. It even had its own ring. It wasn't a Crossfit, but it had everything they needed for Seth to make Dean perform some more of those intensive WODs with him.

Of course Seth called it quits well before him, but Dean was feeling his energy waning as well.

He had been disallowed from consuming anything besides water since they left Vegas. Seth had said that it was to help the process of exhausting his super stamina down so he wouldn't shift into a wolf again. Dean wanted nothing more than to keep from shifting, but the way his hunger – for sustenance as well as bloodshed – was gnawing at him, this was bordering on torture.

After finishing two of the most brutal of Crossfit's workouts, The Murph and The Seven, Dean found himself on the floor for a much-needed breather.

Seth let him rest for a few minutes before dragging him back to his feet.

"You're killin' me, man," Dean protested, but got up anyway, "plus my stomach's about to burst out of me in search of food."

Seth was already in the middle of the ring, fully recovered and beckoning him in.

"C'mon Champ, you can handle a little warm up in the ring, unless you want me to take my title back tonight. "

Dean propelled himself under the bottom rope and into the ring like a shot. "You've got a fat chance in hell, Rollins."

"That's what I'm talkin' about, baby," Seth grinned.

They locked up in the middle of the ring, the spark between them lighting into a raging fire despite it only being a practice session.

It was Dean who made the first move, knocking Seth's arm from around his shoulder and wrenching his arm, he then maneuvered himself so that he was behind Seth. He banded his arms around the smaller man, but Seth was quick to fight him from locking his fingers together.

They jockeyed for the dominant position for a few more moments before Seth weaseled himself out of the corner Dean had him in, putting some distance between them so he could assess the situation.

"Still trying to predict me?" Dean smirked as he approached, putting out one hand as an invitation to Seth to lock fingers.

Seth said not a word but obliged the gesture, then they locked fingers with their free hands after some cautious hesitation on Seth's part. Kicking one hand free of Seth's, Dean twisted around while keeping hold of his partner's other hand, wrenching it behind Seth's head.

In quick succession Seth twisted back so they were face-to-face, and taking hold of Dean's opposite arm, wrenched him into a chicken wing. Seth leaned low into the hold to avoid a potential elbow swinging his way. Hooking the other man's head under his free arm, Dean began wrenching Seth's neck in order to get released from the hold.

He could have easily freed himself, but he didn't want to rely on the wolf – especially with the potential to hurt Seth clearly within his power – because it wouldn't be fun that way. So he dialed back his strength as much as he could.

Finally Dean got his arm loose and in return applied the chicken wing on Seth briefly before changing tactics by swiftly taking him down to the mat, grounding him with a side-headlock.

Seth's arm scrabbled for purchase until it wrapped around Dean's face. The brunet's other arm hooked him around one of his legs and suddenly he was flipped into a pinning predicament.

Though there was no one around to count a pin fall, Dean kicked out quickly before the three-second mark and they both separated again.

Locking up again, Dean wasted no time in bringing Seth down onto his stomach on the canvas. He pulled one bronzed arm into a modified arm bar while applying pressure with his elbow into the other's shoulder.

"You give up, Princess?" he taunted into Seth's ear.

"Not on your life," came the answer.

Dean smirked, keeping hold of the maneuver a bit longer before allowing Seth to wrangle out of it. He then performed an arm wrench into a standing side-headlock. Seth flipped him to the ground with a hip toss.

Dean jumped up and bounced off the ropes, shoulder tackling him to the ground. Racing to the opposite set of ropes, Dean attempted the same move, but Seth turned onto his stomach, forcing Dean to skip over him. He jumped back to his feet as Dean rebounded back once more, throwing out his forearm.

Ducking under the strike, Dean foresaw Seth's standing dropkick and clung to the ropes. Seth's feet met nothing but air, but he had the wherewithal to land on his feet with cat-like grace. As Dean came at him again, he quickly shot up into another dropkick. This time it hit home and Dean was sent onto his back on the mat.

Seth tried for another quick pin, which he immediately kicked out of. Not waiting for him to catch a breath, Seth was on him again, applying an arm bar of his own.

"What about you, Dr. Wolfenstein?"

Dean powered out of the submission then hit a suplex. With Seth back on the ground, he took control again, twisting the other's legs into a figure-four. His counterpart writhed, but managed to haul himself and Dean's weight so his hand reached the ropes.

He dragged Seth back to the center of the ring, flipped him onto his stomach, and planting the weight of his torso on Seth's back, cinched in a front facelock. Seth wormed his way out of it and onto his back. Dean followed quickly and straddled Seth's waist.

A flash of recognition gleamed in Seth's eyes as his hands were pinned above his head.

Dean loomed over his lover with all his weight, a wolfish smirk overtaking his face. The wolf inside him stirred to life along with his mounting lust.

Seth did nothing more but moisten his lips, an alluring peek of his tongue. Drawn to that simple but no less erotic act, Dean swooped in and claimed the other man's lips.

Between insistent kisses which Seth whole heartedly reciprocated, he counted, "One…two…three…"

"Mmm…you cheated…"

"That hardly sounds like a complaint."

Seth's hips bucked. "Shut up and keep kissing me."

A growl rumbled deep in Dean's throat. "I'm about to do a whole lot more if you keep that up."

"I really wish you would," Seth challenged breathlessly, boldly slipping his hand up and under Dean's loose workout shirt, fingers purposely trailing through the chest hair he found before teasing a nipple with a brush of his thumb.

Something inside of Dean took over and he lost all reason except claiming the man beneath him, reducing him to a rutting beast.

"Fuck…" Seth panted, hooking one leg around Dean's hip.

Their lips collided, all tongue and teeth and no finesse to be seen. Shoving the other's shirt up to this collarbone, Dean drug his lengthening nails down the toned torso he revealed. Seth moaned into his mouth, his body writhing. Dean tore his lips away to kiss, lick, and nip along the path his nails had raked, relishing the sight of the thin red lines slowly rising to the surface of Seth's flushed skin.

Lips reaching the hem of Seth's shorts, he wasted no time in pulling them down those bronze hips. He didn't need to see his lover's hardening length as evidence of how much he was desired; he could smell Seth's arousal. Even so, he wanted to see that beautiful, wanton body exposed to his gaze.

So much smooth, exotically toned skin stretched tautly over hard planes of muscle, twitched with excitement. Excitement caused at his hands. Dean's mouth watered at the sight and he had not even gotten Seth completely threadbare yet.

The gnawing in Dean's middle returned full force as he stretched himself over Seth again, fueled by the image of fucking him into the mat. Seth, an almost timid blush dusting his face, tugged at the hem of his shirt then with his aid pulled it up and over his head.

Dean lost whatever sense he had remaining and ducked his head, devouring Seth's neck with hot kisses.

"Yes…that's it. Then after we fuck him, we'll devour his tender flesh," encouraged the wolf.

Dean growled audibly in agreement.

Through his haze of desire and hunger, a sound that wasn't contained within the heat of the room they occupied permeated his ears, a reverberation of clacks and chatter.

The veil of delirious hunger that was clouding his judgment suddenly released him and Dean abruptly jumped off of his lover.

"Dean," Seth called in surprise, "What is it?"

He didn't answer as he started to pace the ring, feeling equal parts sexually frustrated and immensely disgusted at what he'd just considered.

Seth straightened his clothes ponderingly then climbed to his feet, taking cautious steps towards him.

"Dean?"

The door opened deafeningly and two men stepped over the threshold.

"Oh, sorry," one of them said when he spotted them, "We didn't know anyone was in here."

Stooping to retrieve his shirt, Dean muttered lowly so only Seth could hear him, "Time to head to the arena…"

As soon as they made it to their hotel room, Dean collapsed exhaustedly on the plush bed. Though he didn't have a match that night, he felt like he'd been fighting a weekend long match.

In essence he had, between no food in his stomach, the punishing workout regiments Seth put him through, Money in the Bank, and the little sleep he'd gotten the night before, Dean was running on fumes.

And yet he wasn't in the right state of mind to let sleep overtake him, thoughts about that day running wild in his brain.

Despite his temporary loss of control at the gym, RAW went swimmingly, excitement over having the title renewing his enthusiasm and silencing the wolf, allowing him to plant both Roman and Seth with Dirty Deeds without one homicidal thought infecting his brain like a tapeworm.

But there was a subject of more importance keeping him awake.

The draft.

It had been looming over everyone in the WWE for some time now, and while he welcomed it at first for he saw it as a prime opportunity for the business to shake things up, after receiving his bite, his curse, he now thought of it as a slow painful walk towards the gallows hill.

He didn't want to give such a thought power over him, but something was telling him that he was going to be parted from Seth.

The brand split, coupled with that and the fact that he had yet to cure himself, made the situation seem all the more dire.

How would he keep his shit together without Seth there to ground him?

"Hey, Champ," Seth called from foot of the bed and Dean cracked his eyes open, "throwin' in the towel already?"

"Yup…" Dean closed his eyes again, "I'm so tired I can barely move my pinky."

"Perhaps I could still persuade you take part in one last exercise, just to be certain you won't shift."

"Oh yeah?" Dean murmured, sleepiness finally seeping into his bones, "How you plan to do that?"

The unexpected addition of Seth's weight settling astride his hips sparked an immediate flame low in Dean's belly, quickly bringing him back to a state of full awareness like the crash of a wave upon him.

"What are you doing?" he rasped.

Seth loomed over him, lips hovering just centimeters above his. "Finishing what you started earlier," he said, grinding their hips together for emphasis.

"T-That might be a mistake," Dean said, though his hands seemed to dismiss his objection in favor of resting his hands on Seth's hips, "The wolf's been filling my head with ways to seduce and then eat you. Lust and hunger…they're like one in the same…I almost can't tell the difference anymore…I-I could have torn your throat out back there…do you like…get off on me potentially killing you?"

"No," Seth countered with a peck to his lips, "I just know that you won't."

Dean opened his mouth to protest, but the words died on his lips as he watched Seth slowly shimmy down his body until the other's face was level with the growing erection in his jeans. This was a battle he was quickly losing, and at this point he was starting not to give a shit.

..:..

Once he was drained of everything he could give, Dean collapsed boneless upon Seth's equally limp body. Dean wasn't sure how long they lay like that, panting as though their oxygen had been stolen from them, until the realization of what he'd done dawned on him.

"Shit!" Dean said to himself, panic filling him.

He quickly rolled off of Seth and pulled him to his side where he could examine his lover's shoulder. Seth winced, but relief overshadowed concern when Dean's keen eyes found the bite. A clear, deep imprint of his teeth blemished Seth's smooth flesh, but somehow he'd held back in his frenzied zeal, keeping his fangs from breaking the skin.

It looked like it ached and it would probably bruise up badly, but at least he hadn't cursed his own boyfriend.

Dean wrapped Seth up in his arms, his tongue and lips lazily soothing the mark.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, though part of him wasn't so apologetic at being as possessive he was.

"S'not that bad…" came a tired chuckle.

Dean allowed a sleepy smile to cross his lips. His Seth was tough.

His Seth.

Dean buried his face in the nape of Seth's neck, inhaling the other's scent mingled with that of sated passion.

"Love you," Seth mumbled.

"Mmmm," Dean inched closer to press a kiss to his lover's temple, "Love you, too."

They didn't try to get more comfortable as their bodies refused to budge much. Dean simply pulled Seth's back as close to his front as he possibly could without melding their bodies together and closed his eyes.

"…Mine…" he murmured, thinking Seth had already drifted off.

"Yours as long as you're mine." came a tired, but confident response.

Dean chuckled quietly, his breath ruffling Seth's hair.

"I'm all yours. Always have been, always will be."