Chapter Text
Someday came sooner than either of them had anticipated. The past few days had been a whirlwind of a hunt. A game of cat and mouse. Handjobs on the couch, blowjobs in the locker room shower of the waterpark on the pier, and now, David found himself in the steelworks factory. Tucked away in the old office he’d converted into a bedroom, with Michael by his side.
If there’s one thing David knows how to do, it’s to put on a good show. He kneeled on the edge of his bed, positioned where moonlight shining through a crack in the wall could find him like a spotlight. Michael sat near the headboard, leaning on a pillow with the duvet strewn across his lap. David hid a smirk at his attempted modesty, as if a thin blanket would do anything to hide what the image of David, completely naked and open in front of him was doing to his body.
David took his fingers in his mouth, pushing them in and out, circling them with his tongue, hoping the movement would pull forth memories of just moments earlier when his head was between Michael’s knees. He pushed his legs apart, faking a quiver in his thighs and heavying his breath on purpose. There were times to embrace the flawless nature of an undead being. No sweat, no scars, no refractory period. But over the years he’s found that there were little things, the little quirks of human bodies, that added to the overall experience of sex. He knew visible strain and exhaustion in his muscles would make Michael feel good. That it allowed them to act like he held some power over David in this moment. So, he performed.
He grunted a bit as he pushed a finger inside himself, pretending to wince. He’ll grab lube later, but for now, he could keep up the illusion of spontaneity. It has been a while since David was on the receiving end of sex. He’s let Star stick a finger up there every now and then, but her delicate touch grazing over the sweetest spots on his body was barely enough to get him going, she never seemed into it anyway. And guys weren’t so much into fucking these days. They were too burdened by visions of blood and death and all sorts of things they didn’t know how to find beautiful yet. But even so, his gasps and grunts and hisses were only for show. He painted a picture of effort, acting like this costs him something and he’s willing to pay to give Michael pleasure.
He watched the rise and fall of Michael’s chest. He followed the young man’s gaze from his middle, up to his face. David held their eyes there. He bit his lip and tilted his chin up, letting out a soft moan, hoping to give Michael enough shower fodder to last even longer than a lifetime. He added a third finger, knowing he really didn’t need to, but he wanted to take his time savouring this moment between them. Besides, the way Michael’s jaw dropped open, his eyes and lips glistening in the soft blue glow of night, easily made the extra minute worth it.
Finally, David crawled forward, pulling the blanket off Michael’s legs and tossing it to the side. He kissed him gently, nuzzling his neck and cheek with his nose and forehead more than he touched their lips together. He snuck his hand into the bedside drawer, then pressed it between their bodies, feeling the warmth of Michael on one side and the chill of his own skin on the other.
He smiled at Michael’s gasp as he took him in his hand, knowing the frigidness of his palm was only exasperated by the cool gel, creating a true shock to the system as he stroked Michael’s overheated cock. Michael pressed one hand into his back, holding him in place. The other messily toyed with the bar pierced through his nipple. David’s lips quirked fondly at the gesture. He looked down at Michael’s wide eyes staring back up at him. He shivered. David always thought of himself as something of a demon. A bad omen sent from Hell to terrorize humanity. But Michael was looking at him like he was an angel, or maybe a god. Something unnatural, but good. David fought to keep his eyes open as he lowered himself onto his cock, wanting desperately to watch Michael’s face.
He pushed himself up and down, ceasing the fake strain in his legs and using his strength to bounce on Michael’s thighs like a girl in a porno. He cupped Michael’s cheek, stroking under his eye with his thumb, willing them open so Michael could see the utterly obscene image above him. Michael’s eyes fluttered, David pressed harder. A silent command, and Michael forced himself to look. To watch. David imagined looked like something from out of a dream, or maybe a nightmare. All glowing and angular. All consuming.
“David” Michael breathed, like it was the only word he knew.
David leaned forward, shifting the angle, sighing at the moan that left Michael’s lips. He rolled his hips in a slow circle, devouring the way it made Michael’s breathing catch. He was so responsive, so eager. Even the smallest movements landed with the force of something monumental because it was all so new.
Many people, dead and undead alike looked at David like something to be worshipped. But no one had ever looked at him quite like Michael was looking at him now, like he was the answer to a question Michael didn’t know he’d been asking. It was a dangerous look that made his movements falter ever so slightly. He covered it with a dramatic toss of his head, hiding whatever expression might’ve slipped through.
He stopped, chuckled at Michael’s small whimper. He rocked back and forth, grinding their hips together, searching for an angle that would pull genuine sounds of pleasure out of him. He let his own eyes close and his head loll back, hoping Michael would notice the laxing of his legs, unpinning him. And notice he did. David let Michael flip them. He threw his head into the pillow beneath him, pushing his back into an impressive arch to encourage the other man.
Michael’s movements were clumsy without much direction or intention behind them. He had a hard time getting to a good rhythm, and David couldn’t get much, or any, leverage from here. One thrust would be so light he barely felt it, then the next so hard it stabbed in his stomach. David tried shifting his hips, hooking his calves around Michael’s ass and bending his knees to push him towards hitting a good spot inside him. But he relented. Tonight wasn’t about him, and he’ll have plenty of time to teach Michael later.
He threaded one hand into Michael’s hair, tugging and scratching at the nape of his neck, and the other rubbed circles on his back. He murmured small words of encouragement in his ear. He wrapped his legs around him tighter as the pitch of Michael’s moans grew higher. He took a deep breath in, the scent of Michael’s cheap cologne and sweat filled the air around him. He could smell the others downstairs too, he smirked a little, knowing even if they couldn’t hear them loud and clear, the smell of sex drifted down the stairs a long time ago. He wondered if Michael knew that too, if that turned him on as much as it did for David.
The heat of Michael’s body pulsed all around him. He heard the pounding of his heartbeat and the sound of blood rushing through his veins. A soft rumble ripped through Michael’s abdomen and pushed lower and lower, David could hear it and feel it where their middles pressed together. Michael gripped his hips so hard it would’ve bruised human flesh. He clenched around him, grinning at the strangled gasp he gave. Michael was so close, the muscles in his back tightened under David’s hand. He turned his head to see his eyes shut tight and his brow furrowed in ecstasy.
“Relax,” he purred, keeping his hand petting up and down his spine. “I’ve got you”, he whispered right into his ear. Michael made a noise somewhere between a whimper and a groan into the mattress under them.
Then, he dropped his mouth down to David’s neck. Wrapping his lips around it and pressing his tongue against the non-functioning artery. David gasped, a real one this time. He wasn’t exactly in the throes of pleasure, having spent the last little while willing himself to stay hard. He truly was happy to let Michael take whatever he needed. But he hoped he would pull out this move again some time, after David showed him where his prostate is.
Michael’s hips stuttered, his thrusts growing even more erratic and his breath coming in hot bursts against David’s skin. He could feel the boy unraveling on top of him, and he was so beautiful like this. So raw, all that uptight energy finally spilling over into something honest.
“Fuck, fuck, David-” Michael groaned, before collapsing. David sighed and gathered him in his arms, relishing in the feeling of Michael’s warm bare chest against his own. He pressed a kiss to his forehead.
“Good boy.” He said. Michael’s fist tightened around the pillowcase next to his ear at the words.
They untangled, David guided Michael’s legs out from between and under his. The younger man looked at him, that same sweet glance he’d seen so many times before, until it quirked downwards into a small frown.
“Did you…” Michael asked.
“Don’t worry about me.” He crooned. But Michael propped himself up on his arm and shuffled closer anyway. He wrapped his fingers around David and began to move his wrist back and forth. Too tight, too fast and too dry. David caught his wrist, Michael looked back at him with those wide, puppy-dog eyes.
“Jesus Michael,” he smiled, “it’s a wonder you haven’t snapped your dick in half.” The boy blushed.
“Here,” he said, reaching back into the drawer and handing Michael the bottle. “Just a little,” he said. And of course, Michael squeezed far too much onto his palm, but it would do for tonight. He wrapped his own hand around his wrist again, guiding him into a steady motion.
“It’s just like playing the guitar, you have to feel it out and find the right rhythm.” He said, eventually taking his hand away and relaxing against the bed as Michael got the hang of things. He sighed a little, it was nice, sure, and would probably finish him off eventually. But the sun would be up sooner rather than later, and a pang of hunger was starting form under his ribs.
“Michael, it’s okay. I- Ah-” his moan broke away into a laugh. Michael tightened his hand just right and experimented with twisting his wrist a little.
“There you go,” David said, his voice humming with more warmth than he intended. “See? You’re a natural.” His lips curled into a lazy smile. He let his eyes drift shut and sank further into the mattress. It wasn’t anything earth shattering, but there was something sweet about it. Michael watched him with such earnest concentration, watching his face for cues, biting his lip when David squirmed a little under his touch. He was trying so hard, and that alone was almost enough to get him off. Almost.
Michael swept his thumb over the tip and David’s hips jerked upwards, accompanied by a genuine hitch in his breath that made Michael’s eyes light up with something like pride.
“Yeah,” David huffed, “just like that.” He reached upwards, brushing a strand of Michael’s sweaty hair off his face, twisting the curl around his finger. Michael leaned into the touch, pressing his forehead into David’s palm, then his lips, trailing soft kisses in a line starting from his hand and moving down his arm. David hummed, a little perplexed at the gesture, but nonetheless intrigued. Michael’s mouth worked its way across his shoulder, then down his neck, until he reached his chest, where he licked over the spot where a heartbeat should be.
David’s hand flew back into Michael’s hair as he took his nipple into his mouth, his tongue swirling over the cool metal studs. But the rhythm in Michael’s hand faltered, they both laughed a little as he concentrated on his hand around David’s cock again. His brow furrowed, his hand fumbled a little, trying to find the right rhythm again.
“Stop thinking so hard.” David said, fully relaxed now and watching Michael through half-closed eyes. The moonlight had shifted again and cast a new stripe across Michael’s chest, catching the sweat beading around his collarbone.
“I want to make you-” Michael cut himself off. David could hear the gears turning in his head as he tried to decide what word to use. He imagined Michael trying every option out on his tongue, and every one of them tasting too dirty to say out loud. “I want to do this right.” He said instead.
Something twisted in David’s chest. A strange, uncomfortable sensation he wasn’t sure he remembered ever feeling. Something that burned hotter than endearment, cooler than desire, and entirely too human. He didn’t like it.
He reached up and pressed his thumb over Michael’s lower lip. “You are doing this right.” He said, his voice startlingly soft and tender. “I’m just…harder to crack than most.” He smiled, mostly in satisfaction with himself as he slipped the mask back on with ease. “Takes more than a handy to finish me off, kid. Don’t beat yourself up over it.” He patted Michael’s cheek.
Michael didn’t look convinced. His hand stopped moving entirely, resting loosely around David. His thumb rubbed absently at the sensitive skin below the head in a way that was more comforting than arousing. He watched the emotions play out across Michael’s face. Frustration, inadequacy, overwhelming desire, all read as easily as a picture book.
“C’mere.” David said. Grabbing Michael’s wrist and pulling him up until they were face to face on the pillow. David kissed him, slow and deep. Nothing like the frantic and sloppy way they’d kissed before. Something entirely too gentle for how things had been going between them so far.
Michael melted into it, his weight shifting until his thigh slotted between David’s legs. David rolled his hips a bit, a lazy friction that shot a pleasant spark through his lower belly. He could feel Michael pressed against his hip, already half hard again. Young blood, he thought, smiling to himself. He reached down between them, taking both of them in his hand. Michael gasped into his mouth, hips jumping forward.
David pressed his forehead against Michael’s. He worked at them together with slow, deliberate strokes. The contrast was striking, Michael hot and pulsing against his cool palm, while David’s own skin stayed steady. He squeezed a little tighter, stroked a little faster.
“Oh God,” Michael shivered.
“Just David is fine” He muttered.
Michael huffed a small laugh against his lips, then let his hand drift downwards to join David’s, their fingers lacing together around the both of them. The addition of his touch, warm, eager and still a little clumsy, made David’s hips hitch, pushing forwards and chasing the sensation.
Michael tilted his head back, exposing the soft skin of his throat. David pressed his mouth to it, groaning as he felt Michael’s cock jolt hard in their hands. It would be so easy. So unbearably easy to take everything he wanted. To bite. And Michael knew it. And it turned him on. The thought was dizzying, pulsing through David’s mind so hard it made his head spin.
David’s fangs descended, resting just above his neck. The thudding of his pulse, the scent of copper and salt and something sweet just underneath his skin and so, so close pushed into David’s nose. He leaned in, fraction by fraction. Michael’s hand still working steadily. His lips unfurled to fully bare his teeth, about to hit skin just when Michael stroked him just right and pressed his thumb hard against David’s slit, and his spine arched off the mattress.
“Oh fuck-”
It hit him like a freight train. His whole body went ridged against the mattress as a guttural and completely unscripted sound tore from his chest. His hand clamped down hard on Michael’s holding them both still as he spilled over their fingers. His vision whited out at the edges, his fangs fully extended and dangerously close to the artery drumming under Michael’s flushed skin.
The world came back in fragments. The damp coolness of the factory, the slick heat pooled over his and Michael’s fingers, Michael’s frantic heartbeat still thundering in his mind, and the horrific ache in his jaw.
David yanked his head away from Michael’s neck so fast it made his head spin. He laid back on the bed and for a moment, all he could do was stare at the ceiling. The cracks in the plaster had never looked so interesting. His chest heaved harder with breaths he didn’t need, every one of them soaking in more of the scent of copper, of sweat, of Michael. He swallowed hard, his fangs still out, too long to fit behind his closed lips.
“David?” Michael asked, unbearably sweet. He didn’t dare look at him. Not yet. First, he willed his jaw to relax, one muscle at a time. The relief at everything slotting back into place was immediate, but embarrassment lingered like a bruise. David knew his face would be bright red if blood still flowed through his veins, he imagined himself blushing so hard that tears would prickle behind his eyes.
Sex was nothing. Sex was easy. He’d fucked his way through decades without a single crack of his composure. It was only bodies and friction and chasing pleasure until he decided it was time to let go. Never in surrender, only want, and even then, he’d managed to do it with his usual poise intact. A gasp here, a shudder there, all perfectly curated. He was always the one in charge, especially where his own body was concerned.
But this was different, losing control. Not just the performance of it. Not the practiced toss of his head or arch of his back, but the real thing. An animal thing. The part of him that was pure predator surging forward from its usual hiding place without his permission, leaving his snarling like some feral dog at the boy in his bed.
And that was the worst part, that Michael had seen. Not the fangs himself, he’d flashed those plenty of times. But those moments were different. Meant to menace, terrorize, and chosen by him. This was his body betraying him, stripping away every layer until all that remained was hunger. Need.
He was reminded of Michael a few weeks ago, pressed against an alleyway near the pier, squeezing his eyes shut tight at the hard-on straining under his jeans. David had laughed then, finding Michael’s embarrassment thoroughly entertaining.
Now, he found it all much less amusing.
“You should go.” He said, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He wiped his hand on the mattress. Most of its stains were older than Michael, what did one more matter.
Michael’s hand hovered over the empty space where David had been. His mouth opened, then closed, then opened again.
“What?” he asked, his voice cracking a little.
“You heard me,” David said, “sun’s coming up soon, you should get back to your own bed.”
David finally turned around, facing Michael and finding him looking so unfairly beautiful. The memory of Michael’s thumb on his slit sent a jolt through his stomach. He pushed that feeling so far down he was surprised it didn’t leak out of his shoes.
Michael sat frozen, the moon shifted again and caught the mess they had made together on his stomach.
“Did I do something wrong?” he asked.
“No,” David said too quickly, ducking to the floor to rummage for his jeans. He turned away from Michael to pull them on. The jeans were a mistake. They scratched against his oversensitive skin and the stiff denim stuck to drying cum leaking onto his thighs. He buckled his belt with quick, practiced motions, each click of the metal echoed like a gunshot.
“I just thought-” Michael started.
“Don’t think.” David cut him off. “it’s late, or early, whatever. Point is, we’re done here.” He busied himself with searching for his shirt. He knew it was somewhere under the bed, but he was not going to crawl around looking for it now. He grabbed a tank top and tugged it over his head.
“Can we talk about this?” Michael stammered. It struck a chord with David. He had promised himself he wouldn’t leave Michael alone to flounder. Not like he had been. He said he’d guide him through every step, never leaving him alone with the terrifying prospect of discovering something new about himself. But something stronger override that desire. Self-preservation was the only name for it David could think of.
“Nothing to talk about. You came, I came, the sun’s coming up. That’s the whole story.”
“The whole story?” Michael repeated, flat and bitter. David grabbed a pack of cigs from the nightstand and by some miracle his hands were steady enough to light it. The flame cast harsh shadows on his face, making him look every one of his decades dead. He inhaled, letting the smoke fill him up then curl out, withering away into the darkness like he wished he could do.
Michael stayed on the bed. Didn’t move to dress or leave. He just sat there, waiting.
“You’re still here.” David observed. For a moment it felt like Michael had something to say. Instead, he muttered a few curses before tugging on his own pants and thudding his way down the stairs.
David stayed standing there, the cigarette burning down between his fingers, ash tumbling to the floor in soft grey flurries. He didn’t move until he heard the engine of Michael’s bike trail off into the distance.
Then he exhaled. Not smoke. Just a breath he didn’t need, from lungs that didn’t work, inside a body that betrayed him in ways he didn’t know were still possible. His mind searched for something, no, someone to blame. He rifled through lists of names, his father, his drill sergeants, himself, but he always landed on the same one.
Michael.