Fanfic -- The Lost Boys -- Nightmares, 2/2
Moving like some kind of cross between shadows and kings, the three teens strolled into the shop. Jean, the kind of guy who bulked up in the gym to make up for his name and picked fights with wrestlers to impress his girlfriend, looked away. A slender red-head with engine grease on his cheek shoved himself out from under a truck and raised an eyebrow, while Pete drifted out of his office and scowled.
“Bike's not ready yet. It'll be another few days.”
The taller blond of the trio grinned charmingly.
“Longer if Michael stays sick, right?”
The redhead sat up, watching them warily. The owner snorted.
“Unless you want a half-assed job.”
“Nah, David's pretty anal about his bike. Nuts for someone who drives it off as many-” The smallest coughed. “-roads as he does.”
They grey-haired mechanic flashed a grin.
“These roads, they edging the fucking alps?”
The three customers snickered. The silent one, a dark haired bastard in torn denims, wandered over to the grease-monkey who was heading back under the truck. The redhead paused, eyeing him, and he nodded almost imperceptibly. Slowly, Ross nodded back, and the brunette smirked at him.
“Need a hand?”
The blonds looked up, checking up on the pair casually, then went back to the mutual baiting they had going on with Pete.
“I'm good, thanks,” Ross muttered. He looked uncomfortable, not meeting the darker man's eyes. “Look, man...”
“Relax, Red. We won't do anything to you you aren't interested in.”
A grease-edged nail clicked rhythmically on the floor.
“Yeah, yeah, you said that already. Look, just tell me where to meet up with you guys.”
Dwayne smiled again, slowly, black as sin and promising as a vacancy sign thirty miles from nowhere. He tossed down a worn keyring, and the prone mechanic caught it with a frown.
“Why don't you return Michael's bike for him? Since he forgot all about it,” he suggested quietly. Slowly, Ross nodded, and the vampire stalked back to his brothers. Marko looked up at him curiously, and he allowed himself a flicker of crimson triumph.
-----
He was alone again the next time he woke up, and he wondered if he should worry. Now that he was sure David was in town - unless it had been all some delirium-driven dream? Lying on his bed, he frowned, almost sure that wasn't it. His other nightmares about the vampire had never included showers and gingerale, and if they had he suspected they'd have also included crazy antics and tingling blow-jobs. Considering they were getting progressively more x-rated, that was probably going to happen.
Shivering a little after the heat of his fever, he dragged himself out of bed and into the bathroom. There were towels hanging all over the place, dry now, but he recognized at least two from the vampires' attempts at keeping him cool. He stared at the ratty twist of grey draped over the back of the toilet as he pissed, the relief filling his mind. He still felt light-headed, like his brain was recovering slower than the rest of him, but he could move around fairly easily.
In the main room, his phone rang. He ignored it, pretending it wasn't real as he slowly gathered the towels into a heap on the counter. Five rings later, it stopped, and he turned on the shower. The knob felt scummy in his hand, covered in unwashed soap, and he held his hand under the first volley of water the pipes spat at him. Dimly, he wondered who'd been calling, and stepped into the cold spray to wash the last of the sickness from him.
Nearly an hour later, his front door opened, and he jerked out of his funk, turning to stare out the open curtain. Slow, measured footsteps resounded through his apartment, and he reached to turn the suddenly freezing water hotter. Slowly, looking utterly deadly and entirely confident, the blond he'd been resolutely not thinking about oozed into view. He gulped, eyes tracking every motion as David jutted his hip out to connect with the door frame and draped his upper body after it. A beer bottle hung from smoke-stained fingers, clutched there casually between nails freshly painted black.
“You're back,” he stammered idiotically. The vampire smirked, taking a slow slug of beer before answering.
“Sun set a few minutes ago, Angel. We're both back to full strength,” that whiskey-smooth voice commented.
Every decent game's got a half-time, child.
“Not - Not quite,” he insisted, even though he felt fine. Blue eyes laughed at him, and their owner chuckled lazily.
“I can smell your lie, you know.”
He swallowed hard as the vampire dropped his beer to the ground. It landed straight, barely rocking, as the monster straightened. He couldn't seem to look away from strong, broad shoulders shrugging off the leather duster, nor pale arms crossing to pull off a black t-shirt. Then those hands dropped to the black jeans, popping the button and drawing the zipper open with a rasp he thought he could hear even over the shower. A half-hard cock confronted him as the denim fell - apparently underwear would've been too much to pray for - and the vampire stalked towards him, leaving his boots with his clothes.
“No!” he yelped, suddenly realizing where this was going. A smile that held about three halves threat answered that, and David stepped into the shower with him.
“No? Don't imagine you control me, human,” the demon reminded him sharply. He gulped, his eyes wandering down against his will. Something on the alabaster chest gave him pause, though he took a second to figure it out.
“No scars...”
“Who said antlers killed vampires?” David teased rhetorically. He glanced up again, blinking the water out of his eyes and feeling like a mouse cornered by a particularly feral cat. Wasn't a bad analogy, now that he thought about it.
“What do you want?”
It came out hollow, bluster and bravado coming nowhere near to masking the terror in his voice.
“Your soul.”
It was a plain enough answer, and he reeled, shrinking back against the shower curtain. David offered a condescending smirk and reached for the soap.
He felt tears adding to the wet on his face as slick hands ran over him, cleaning him. The vampire had the grace to ignore them. He tried to copy that example as he felt himself positioned, stroked and massaged, hating that it felt like caring. He knew it wasn't, couldn't be, couldn't be anything but a power play. It was a show of control over his body, proving to him the blond could pull shudders of pleasure from him even without his consent, and he hated that he loved it, hated that he sank to his knees with a moan when firm hands pushed him down. And maybe it was seduction too, he realized when they rubbed shampoo through his hair, blunt nails scratching over his scalp.
“David,” he whimpered, closing his eyes.
“That's it, Michael. Relax.”
He obeyed, going boneless against his companion's legs. They spread a little, holding him, supporting him, and the gentle tap of cool flesh made him open tilt his head up and reach out with his tongue. Cold, hard water, then skin, coated in fuzz he knew would be blond, and he licked in supplication.
“Not yet.” The reprimand came with amusement, but he still opened his eyes and glared as he was tugged away.
“Isn't this what you wanted, David?” he challenged. Blue eyes smirked down at him.
“And you'll give it to me,” came the confident assurance. “But the game's not back on yet.”
It took a minute for the words to sink in, and when they did he stumbled to his feet, staring. They were roughly the same height, close enough for him to stare in disbelief.
“Half-time's not over?” he inquired shakily. David nodded gently.
“Take it as a gift, Michael. You have until dawn before we're keeping score again.”
He swallowed hard, not sure what to say and not knowing how to say nothing.
“Thanks.”
“My pleasure,” came the cat-like answer, and suddenly he realized that they were way too close, pressed up against each other, his flaccid dick lined up with the demon's semi-soft one. His eyes widened, then there were two hands in his sodden hair, and chapped lips swallowing down his automatic curse. He froze, letting the blond kiss him. Cold, beer-flavoured tongue working its way into his mouth slowly and deliberately, charting him out and sending shivers down his spine. God, it was good, hot and certain and sending a pulse of sheer need down to his prick, but he couldn't respond, couldn't do more than take it and shiver and beg mutely for more.
Far, far too soon, David pulled away. He stared, watching the pink tongue come out to lick away his taste, Cheshire smirk returning.
“I thought this was half-time,” he accused nervously, wondering if he looked as much like a deer caught in the headlights of a mac truck as he felt. For a moment something unidentifiable flickered in cobalt eyes, then they returned to their vaguely appraising state.
“The game's a means to an end, Michael,” the vampire revealed. “This is just a taste of the prize.”
He swallowed hard, stepping back just a step.
“I don't get it.”
“When I win, I get you.”
When. Not if. And the terrifying thing was, he knew it was true. He was on the verge of forfeiting then and there, lust clamouring for him to give in and let the demon sweep him off to be fucked. Or whatever that meant.
“What if I win?” he shot back, trying to pretend he didn't see how pointless the words were. Blue eyes glinted with humour. “What do I get? You?”
“Hmm. I think that goes along with me winning, actually.”
His knees buckled, but he managed to stay upright.
“What?”
“I win, you're mine, Michael.” There was a sudden seriousness there, something that reminded him he wasn't dealing with a mere human male. “And you'll never be rid of me again.”
His hands clenched into fists.
“Oh yeah?” he shot back weakly. Fuck, he was hard; he'd be aching if he wasn't freezing in the shower. Suddenly David paused, then shook himself and chuckled.
“You'll understand soon.” That sounded like a promise, and he gulped. As casually as he'd entered, the vampire stepped back out into the bathroom, reaching for a towel with one hand. “Come on out and get dressed.”
“Why?” he asked belligerently, but he was cold, and his feet were moving almost before he realized it. It was warmer almost the instant he stepped out of the enclosure, the summer's heat still permeating his home.
“Time to fly, child.”
He stared stonily at his unwelcome guest.
“Feel free to leave at any time.”
The bastard had the nerve to laugh. He nearly growled, reaching for his own towel. The one that came to hand was still damp, and the blond tossed his own at him, laughing.
“Together, Michael. And believe me...”
A shark-like grin.
“...You want to come.”
-----
Carefully, Ross slid the motorcycle into its designated spot. He fiddled with the keys for a moment, then shut the engine off. Michael's bike sighed into silence, and he swept his hand over it admiringly before clambering off. The American mechanic wasn't just good, he was a fucking god, and he took just as good care of his own machine as the ones Pete assigned him.
“We were beginning to wonder if you were gonna show,” a dark voice said out of the shadows, and he jumped.
“Jesus! Sneak up on a guy, why dontcha?”
Someone breathed on his ear. He turned his head, catching sight of the smallest blond.
“Anytime!” Marko crowed as he jerked. From behind him, Dwayne chuckled.
“Easy, Red. Plenty of time for games later.”
He forced himself to calm, half-turning to smile up at the bigger guy.
“Yeah, cool. So, where we going?” he asked, smiling a little. Dark eyes swept over his face and lingered on the shadows of his neck. He arched it a little, silently teasing, and felt the hand on his shoulder tighten just a hair.
Oh, yeah. Tonight was gonna be wild.
“Out. Around. You'll see where when we arrive,” came the dusky promise. He grinned.
“You had me leave my bike at Pete's, boys. Gonna have to cart me around, if you want me somewhere,” he challenged. Another flickeringly dangerous smile.
“Not a problem, Red.” The brunette pulled away from him, stepping over to the hulking beauty that was his bike. A true monster, built for speed and strength, demanding perfect control from its rider. “Feel up to riding with me, tonight?”
“Sure,” he agreed, a touch cooler than he felt. He pulled his helmet back on, checking the straps quickly then seating himself behind the boy he'd been eyeing just a touch nervously since they met. The leather of his coat was solid and reassuring against him, and he scooted intimately forward. The press of the rider's ass felt good against his cock, the slow rev of the engine promising he'd be just a touch hard by the time they next stopped.
“Hold on, Ross,” someone called, then they were roaring out onto the streets.
He closed his eyes, tightening his grip. God, it felt good to be here, perched on the back of the dark boy's bike, with the two blonds trailing behind them. He rubbed himself against the other, not urgently, and felt a low chuckle compete with the bike's roll for a moment. They accelerated, taking the curves at speeds he'd have shrunk from by himself, but something told him the guy he was behind knew exactly how fast he could go without losing control.
Entirely too soon, they pulled to a halt. He looked up, uncurling himself from Dwayne a little reluctantly.
“Ever been here before?”
He scanned the plain lettering on the steel door. Dungeon.
“Nah. You boys?”
“Just a little while ago,” Marko informed him. He glanced over, feeling his stomach clench. He'd known it would be someplace like this, with the way they moved, but whatever the dive seemed, safe wasn't it.
“Hey.” A calloused knuckle tucked under his chin, and he turned back to look at the brunette. “Nothing you don't want, remember?”
He shivered.
“Looks like a rough place.”
“We're rough boys. Sometimes,” Paul assured him. Dark eyes held his, until he nodded.
“So. We hanging out here all night, or are we going in?”
A grin.
“Oh, we're going in, alright,” someone said, and he let himself be helped off the bike.
His hard-on wilted as he followed Dwayne inside, the blonds side-by-side behind him. Inside lived down to his expectations, the air filled with smoke from ancient cigarettes and the candles that flickered in gothic holders. There was an oversized jukebox playing something hard and angry, the strummed baseline in rhythm with a nervous human heartbeat. The bar - and the tables - were painted black, with pocked brass protectors and scarred leather seats. A few faces looked up with mild curiosity as they entered, but for the most part the drinkers ignored them.
Unexpectedly, he felt a gentle touch on the upper swell of his ass. He let his eyes flicker over Paul as he took in the bar; the blond's ever-present grin never wavered, even as dancing eyes confirmed the gesture. He let a trace of a smile answer it. Ahead of them, the dark-haired boy reached a corner table and glided round it, eyes flashing with amusement when he saw them. Ross felt his mouth go dry as he slid over beside him, the leather-clad arm rising up to rest heavily round his shoulders and Paul's knee coming to rest against his other side.
“Want a drink, Red?”
He shivered.
“Sure. You're driving.”
The others snickered, and Marko leaned in close.
“Whatcha like?”
He grinned, his cock twitching at both meanings.
“Surprise me,” he suggested softly. The spritely blond licked his lips, then leaned even closer, and licked his lips.
He pressed forwards, hoping, but the other drew away slowly and flashed him a sultry look. He sank back, knowing he was being teased and willing to let it go on.
“Be right back.”
He nodded. Paul nudged him, and he turned to look at the wild one with just a hint of welcome.
“Brave man,” came the comment. “You like surprises?”
“When they're fun,” he qualified, nowhere near willing to let that rest. They grinned, pleased with his answer, and he settled back against Dwayne's shoulder.
“Just fun, Red?”
“All good things are fun,” he elaborated with a slow smile. Dark eyes flashed, and he was maneuvered in to sit across one strong thigh. He let one leg dangle, displaying his cock wantonly, and shifted until he was comfortably supported.
“Are you fun?” the blond asked. He smirked.
“Your call.”
“You're gonna be lots of fun,” Marko informed him, passing a glass of something too bright a red to be blood around his arm. He let his eyes cut over with a grin.
“I'd hate to disappoint.”
“No need to worry,” Dwayne murmured from behind him. A flush of pleasure started deep in his belly, but before he could show it soft, careful lips bent and took hold of his earlobe. He gasped, not even trying to hide his reaction as cool, damp suction played. The other boys laughed as he arched back, moving in conjunction with his new lover as the sucking turned to nibbling and travelled to his throat, but then firm hands joined in. He wriggled, feeling them stroking his thighs and chest even as a much-wanted paw came to rest over his groin.
“Need you,” he whispered, distracted, and sharper teeth grazed his neck. He whimpered, the excitement of doing this here - in a seedy bar with black-eyed regulars ignoring them - sending his blood pounding through his veins. Clever fingers opened his fly, pulling out the cock he'd barely shielded behind boxers and giving it a quick squeeze. Then it was hidden in someone's mouth, and he'd have cried out if Marko's taste hadn't swallowed the sound.
He could feel everything, feel the cold wetness of a tongue tracing the underside of his prick, feel Marko's thrusting possession of his mouth, feel the not-pain of lengthening fangs sinking into his throat. He closed his eyes, whimpering into the kiss and letting his hips work pleadingly. Paul hummed and took him deeper, playing him for moans and half-halted thrusts. Fire devoured his bones, making every touch sizzle like ice.
He arched his neck a little further, wanting the rush of a feeding, needing just a little more to come. So close, god, right there...
-----
“No. No!” Michael lunged towards the roof's edge, and David caught him around the waist, holding him back. The mortal struggled, then spun around and freed himself with a curse. “You said it was halftime!”
“And it is,” he reassured the brunette, keeping his hands loose at his sides.
“Oh, and it has nothing to do with this game that the boys just rode off with Ross.”
I wouldn't quite say that...
“He made his choice, Angel.” He paused to grin. “Care to find out why?”
His mate recoiled and swallowed hard. He was aware of the movement - his fangs itched at it - but he held the earthy gaze, his eyes inviting. It had been a stroke of pure luck that his brothers had found a willing playmate, but he wanted to take advantage of it, wanted to show Michael what it could be to fuck a vampire. To be fucked by a vampire.
“You bastard.”
David snorted.
“What, it wasn't bad enough that you threatened my brother, you have to do it to my friends? Hell, what am I saying, I barely know Ross!”
“Michael, he chose this. He'd been with vampires long before we got into town,” he revealed, carefully tightening the distance between them. When they were close enough to feel each other's breath, he leaned in and whispered in his lover's ear, “he wants them. Wants to feel their hands, their mouths, wants them to take him. He's taking what he wants, Angel. Will you?”
The body against his shuddered. He turned his head a little more, admiring the silhouette of indecision, the sooty shadow of lashes seaming closed eyes. Soft lips parted, drawing in air raggedly, and warm hands came up to clench on his shoulders.
“I'm not... This isn't... You're not winning, David.”
But I am, my Angel. My beautiful, falling angel.
“Half-time, Michael?” he asked, a little wryly.
Burning eyes flew open, fixing on his, and his throat went dry at the melting need he saw there.
“My turn for a power play,” his lover corrected huskily, and he had only time for a moment's anticipation before a bruising mouth came down on his own. He welcomed it, met and matched it with tongue and lips and blunted teeth. The human broke in, sucking almost painfully on his lip, nibbling on him and crushing desperate hands over him, one holding him by the skull and the other running between his chest and waist. His own movements were much more purposeful, one hand rubbing the small of his mate's back and the other kneading under wild brown curls.
There was a door behind them - the route they'd taken onto the roof, actually - and he felt himself slammed against it. The rough brick registered for a bare moment, then Michael tweaked his nipple, and he tore himself out of the kiss to return the favour with knowing teeth.
“David! God, that feels good. Want you, now, damned, fucking...”
He chuckled, obeying suddenly urgent hands forcing him down. His lover's fly fell open beneath his fingers, and the hard cock behind it straining for him, and he mouthed it in greeting. The mortal gasped, grip slackening on his head, and he let a steadying hand rest on his mate's hip. A moment later it was needed, the teenager slumping into his grasp with a muttered prayer as he swallowed hard.
“Jesus, David,” came the half-broken whisper, and he reached up to lace his fingers through those dangling at his shoulder. “David.”
He'd have let his form shift from the sheer triumph of that moment, but he knew too well what his fangs could do to flesh, and Michael hadn't the experience to stay still as he teased. So he pulled halfway off and pushed back down, letting the youth fuck his mouth, suckling and nibbling and devouring until hoarse whispers brushed up against wonder. Tight and scared and begging for just. That. Much. More.
“David!”
Still smirking, he lapped up the salty-bitter cum, making sure to clean every possible hiding place on his mate's body.
-----
The sun's up.
Slowly, Michael turned his head back, away from the dully glowing drapes in his window. He was lying in bed, or rather on it, the sheets and blanket cushioning beneath him. His eyes closed again, not needing to take in the emptiness he knew would be beside him.
“Wh's going on?” he mumbled, feeling his lover disentangling their limbs. A lazy caress to the length of his spine made him smile, blinking up at the vampire sleepily. David's face was gentle, still softened from the night's pleasures, but there was something wistful in his eyes.
“I can't stay, Angel. This place isn't safe.”
He frowned at the words, starting to sit. Pale lips quirked, and he was gently pushed down.
“Go back to sleep, Michael. Sleep...”
Almost against his will, he obeyed, but he struggled for consciousness long enough to feel a last, precious brush of the demon's mouth on his.
He was alone with the lingering scent of sex and blood. He'd fought for dominance, trying to take the monster who'd taunted him like quicksilver, but every move was blocked. His lover had welcomed him, matched him and more, and he'd fallen hard. Nothing had prepared him for the strength in hands that stoked his need higher, nothing had warned him he'd shoot like a sixteen-year-old at the slightest hint of fangs.
Nothing had told him there would be passion.
Or love.
“David.” He gasped, his cock twitching as firm hands wound into his hair. “Want you. Now.”
The vampire grinned, grinding his hips forward. Old denim rasped against him, the softened fabric torturous.
“What do you want, Michael? My mouth again? My hands? Or my cock?"
He groaned at the words, his hands tensing on his mate's waist. His skin was on fire, sweat melting over his neck and down the track of his spine, and he thrust helplessly against the hard bulge against him. His answer stuck in his throat, caught behind sound, but sharp teeth glinted in the moonlight anyway.
"My cock," David breathed, low and satisfied, and he forced himself to nod. A chuckle, and he pushed himself closer again, craning to suckle on the neck that angled helpfully for him. He wanted, wanted more than he'd have believed possible, yet it wasn't the ache in his balls driving him, but the clench of anticipation in his ass.
Strong hands ran down his flesh, slipping under his shirt and tearing the thin cloth from him. He whimpered, his eyes clenched. Soft lips nuzzled him in gentle contrast to the hands firmly pushing open jeans off his hips, claws tracing tauntingly over the hollow beside bone. Then he was being pushed down and settled on a pile of their clothes, his cock leaking onto the lining of the vampire's coat and his legs spreading instinctively.
"David..."
"Hush, Angel. Trust in me," the demon whispered, and he shuddered. Cold breath on the back of his neck, dead fingers rubbing the tender skin behind his balls, and all he could think was that he'd never felt so alive.
"Don't stop."
"Nowhere in the cards."
He grinned at the audible smirk.
"Gonna fuck me hard, David?"
"Hard." A finger, slicked with something that was probably spit, was quickly joined by a second in his ass, and he hissed with pleasure-pain. "Fast." Another, then a a wet kiss, dampening him. "And deep."
He groaned, the first thrust pressing deep into his core. Dimly, he was aware of pain, of the stretch of muscles that had only ever taken such a width in dreams, but it faded like sun-drenched colour under the pleasure. He bucked back into it, welcoming his mate, eager for each scrape along his prostate.
"Fuck, yeah," he murmured. His lover growled agreement, inhuman hands pulling him into place and holding him for each pleasurable penetration. Sweet, nipping kisses were scattered over his back, tracing the line of a shoulder-blade here, sucking red circles into existence there, and steadily threatening ever closer to his vulnerable throat.
"Feels good, doesn't it, Michael? You're where you belong, made for me, twisting under me," the demon panted. "Never gonna leave you, Angel, never gonna let you go."
"Never," he echoed, believing. "Need you, David."
One hand traced a jagged path from his hip to his hand, then their fingers were interlaced, and he clenched them together. Slick, needle-sharp fangs brushed his neck, and he felt his balls pull into themselves, pleasure condensing and rushing from him in milky fluid. He screamed, nearly too loudly to hear the hoarse words purred into his veins.
Slowly, tears gathered in his eyes. In the darkness it had been easy, easy to fuck, easy to plead, easy to promise more than he could deliver by light of day. Easy to let the vampire who'd already killed so many -- who'd kill again, without guilt -- easy to let David make love to him.
His whole chest stretched like an untuned drum when he thought of what he'd have to do.
-----
Four pairs of eyes, three inhuman, flickered over as he slowly walked down into the church proper. They'd built their nest in the chorus alcove, hanging the scarlet velvet of the altar cloth to block the windows and throwing the benches carelessly to the floor below. In their place a bed it had taken all four of them to get settled waited, draped in luxurious silks they'd pinched from a hedonist's wash-line. The only light came from a dozen candles, burning low but not yet out.
"Good night?" Marko asked cheekily. He grinned.
"Could say that. You look satisfied."
"We've been having fun," Paul conceded, stretching lazily. The mortal half-dozing against Dwayne ran his fingers affectionately through the mass of hair, not bothering to conceal the softness of his spent cock, and the blond pressed a quick kiss to the bite beneath his cheek.
"Have you?" David chuckled. He loped over to the tangle on the bed and smiled down, casually checking his brothers' playmate over. Shallow bites and slight bruises were scattered over his flesh, but his smile was sated and the air was heavy with the scent of sex, so he'd been a willing participant. "Trouble?"
"Nah. We just wanted to move back where it was more comfortable; we figured you wouldn't be needing the place."
The Master vampire nodded, settling back on the end of the bed.
"Michael wasn't quite ready to come here this evening."
Dark eyes flickered onto him.
"And now?"
He shrugged.
"We'll see, brother."
The human raised an eyebrow, tilting his head to bare his neck to the vampire behind him.
"I'd never have guessed Mike had a kink as wild as this," he murmured, sparking a few cross-glances.
"We ran into Michael a year or two ago."
"It was more complicated than you think," Dwayne added. "But he's catching on now."
"Let me guess, there was a girl involved," Ross deadpanned. When the others looked at him, he shrugged. "He's got Sarah hanging round now, and I never figured him for liking guys."
David nodded in acknowledgement.
"Star."
Marko snorted.
"I really wish we'd eaten her when we had the chance."
There was a ripple of laughter, and someone muttered 'amen'.
"You guys need me to clear out, or can I nap for a while?" the red-head asked, when silence had regained its hold.
"Just so long as you're careful if you're leaving past dawn," David assured him, and stood back up. "Have a nice sleep, boys."
"Later, David."
"Yeah, later."
"Don't do anything we wouldn't do."
He nodded, smiling, and slipped out of the alcove, leaving the others to their own rest.
-----
“Michael?” The pretty blond hesitated, then knocked again. “Michael?”
“Hang on.” A moment later the chain rattled and Michael looked down at her, dark eyes dusty with sleep. She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders.
“Michael, I need to talk to you.”
He blinked, then gestured expansively into his apartment.
“Come on in, Sarah. What's up?”
She shivered and launched into her tale.
-----
Shading his eyes with his hand, Michael stared up at the ruined church. It had been beautiful once, or at least elaborate, but now it was a lump of abandoned stone and boarded-over windows. And somewhere inside, the lost boys slept, demons lurking in the one place he'd always thought he could fall back to should the nightmares never stop.
Slowly, dreading every step even as he made it, he climbed the stairs and walked inside.
The main chamber was in shambles. Wood, splintered and bent, lay scattered about, deep pockmarks showing where benches had been tossed down. Here and there elaborate candelabras had been knocked over, leaving heavy gouges, but for some reason none of the art had been desecrated. The image of the virgin studied him with weary radiance, the angels around her as finely detailed as when first done.
His eyes lifted to where the choir should've sung, and he shivered. That was where they'd be - he recognized the red draperies from his dream. Wordless, he found the stairs and went up, anticipating what he'd find. The wide bed. The scarlet cloth bleeding over everything. A hundred candles, flickering in the day.
Three figures, nude and intertwined, every vampire except his.
And his girlfriend, holding one edge of a heavy curtain, looking trustingly up at her other friend named Michael.
No.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he bit out. She jumped, dropping the cloth and whirling to face him.
“Mike! Mike, I don't know what they told you to make you do what they wanted, but you don't have to anymore,” the blond explained quickly, walking towards him with both arms out and a steel crucifix glimmering on her chest. “I know, Mike. I know all about it, and it's okay, it's going to be just fine. We'll open the curtains, and then you'll be safe. You won't have to be scared of them anymore.”
No! Not like this. Damn it, she's brought him into it, and they'll both have to live with it if they kill... God, this just won't end!
“I'm not scared of them, Sarah. Don't, Michael, you don't know what's going on,” he pleaded, worried they'd be no more open to reason than he'd been, the first time. The other boy hesitated, then let the curtain go and turned and crossed his arms over his chest with a nod. “I don't know what you think is going on, but you don't have to kill them. They're not here to hurt anybody.”
She shook her head, reaching for him, and stared up with eyes that shone with sympathy.
“I know they've threatened you, Mike. I came to your apartment the day before yesterday, but I managed to escape the blond one.”
“David,” he corrected hoarsely. She shrugged.
“Its name doesn't matter. I know you were there, Mike, but he can't hurt you during the day, and we can take care of this right now.”
“Sarah, listen to me!” he yelled back. She winced, but her expression didn't change. “David is not threatening me! He's... He's trying to convince me to go back, okay? He's from home. Besides, he's not here. You know nothing about these guys."
“He'll be here. He'll come when he - it! It'll come when it hears its minions die,” she said with complete self-assurance. He almost groaned. I have to get rid of them. Convince them to go, somehow, before David wakes up.
“Sarah, get out of here, okay? You don't want to do this,” he tried again. She shook her head a little sadly, stepping back. "You don't want their blood on your hands."
“I'm sorry you can't fight free on your own, Mike, but that's okay. You'll go back to normal as soon as they're gone.”
“No!”
He lunged after her, but she darted away, yelling to her older friend to let the sun in. The other Michael hesitated, staring as the girl threw a sheet back to trip her boyfriend.
“Michael!” she demanded shrilly, exasperated.
“Don't! You'll kill them!”
“That's the point! They're monsters!”
“They're my friends! Please!” Michael howled, and finally the other living boy caught Sarah's arms and dragged her a safe distance from the curtain. She shrieked, screaming that they'd all be killed, until he muffled her sounds with one hand.
“Are you sure about this, Mike?” he asked softly. “I mean... Vampires... When Sarah started telling me this story, I thought she was nuts.”
He nodded slowly, untangling the sheet and squaring his shoulders.
“I'm sure. The boys - and David - are my responsibility. They've been my friends for longer than I realized at first.” He swallowed and glanced away. “And I love him.”
The other Michael snorted, while Sarah's shrieks took on a new intensity from behind his palm.
“Yeah, if he's as cute as these guys, I don't blame you. Look, maybe you should just take 'em and go. Leave town awhile. If you're ever round again, look me up, but for now, get out and let things settle. We'll make sure Sarah gets over you.”
He smiled.
“Thanks. We'll do that,” he agreed. Carefully, he picked his way over to the bed, his eyes drifting onto his girlfriend. Her eyes glittered at him hatefully.
“She's gonna scream the place down if I let her go, but...”
“Right. Sarah... I'm sorry. It wasn't you, there was nothing you could've done better. But David and I just fit, and I can't let that go. I'll drop your stuff off at your place, okay?”
She mumbled something vitriolic, and her captor rolled his eyes.
“Been nice knowing you, Mike.”
“Later, man,” he replied.
Carrying the still-objecting girl with him, the other man made his way carefully out of the alcove, leaving Michael alone. Slowly, he slumped, feeling tears come to his eyes. He'd made his choice, but he felt sick facing up to it.
“God...” he breathed, sinking onto the bed' soft surface.
A low, affectionate growl answered him, and his head snapped up. David was standing there, smirking down at him, both hands buried in the pockets of his coat.
“How long have you been here?” he yelped. The smirk widened into a grin.
“Long enough,” the vampire husked out, and pushed him gently back onto the bed. He went willingly, lifting his head to meet the kiss he knew was coming. It was deep and wet, passion almost restrained by pleasure, and the growl mutated into a purr.
Wonder what that would feel like on my dick, he thought distractedly.
His eyes drifted open as they parted, his hands finally stroking through his demon's hair.
“Game's over, Michael. Have I won?”
He closed his eyes again, and felt strong arms coming around him.
“When I came here, I thought... I couldn't let you go. Couldn't let you keep killing. I was pretty sure I wasn't gonna be able to kill you, but I was going to try,” he admitted roughly.
“Couldn't, was... A lot of the past tense, Angel,” his lover observed softly. He felt a tear slip out from under his lid.
“When she was trying to kill you... I couldn't let her do it. I - I'd have killed myself, too.”
“You'll never have to kill yourself,” David murmured. “Vampires always come back. You just might have to wait awhile.”
He shuddered, squirming into the cool chest and pressing his face to his lover's neck.
“David, I...”
He choked, and soft lips pressed to his hair.
“I know.”
“You know? I'm fucking admitting you won the game, and that's all you can say?” he snarled, tearing himself up to stare at flame-blue eyes. “You bastard, you made me fall in love with you! I love you! And I didn't mean to...”
The vampire snorted.
“Nobody ever means to, Michael. Doesn't make it any less.” He swallowed and bent to kiss his lover, ravaging his mouth, and only pulled away when he'd run out of both breath and the delusion that he could last another second. David smiled at him, sweeping his hair off his face with fingers that followed it through to tangle in his hair.
“We both won the game, Michael.” He opened his mouth, wanting to ask, feeling a throb from the ache that had been in his heart ever since he realized he'd fallen in love with a demon who'd never claimed more than want for him. But a soft brush over his lips stole the words. “I won your love, and you've always had mine.”
And he felt his heart shatter and swell and mend in a thousand places he'd never known it was broken. And outside the sun set in a pyre of red, and the Lost Boys woke and welcomed him, and he bent to kiss his lover again, the tears streaming down his face like blood.