The Thrill Of The Hunt
This time the car ride back to Ren's mansion was different. He wasn't facing the unknown, his heart wasn't racing with worry as he left behind everything that was once familiar to him. Right now Astor was returning to the place he wanted to call home, the house that Ren lived in with Nash and Niss, the people he had come to care about so easily.
They were separated, driving in two different cars. Astor and Ren were alone, the radio playing in the background, an old eighties song while he looked outside the window, raindrops falling sparsely and he followed them with his eyes as the water left trails on the glass. Ren was driving, a satisfied expression on his face, his beauty obvious to the white-haired werewolf once more. Astor had thought about it many times but once more he wanted to stare at him, indulge in this little game of memory, of mapping every little spot on his face. Maybe his thoughts were becoming repetitive but he could do nothing about it but give in.