Chapter Text
The boardwalk had thinned out as the hour crept past two. The voices of the last dredges of summer tourists echoed against the hum of neon signs sending red and blue light cutting through the fog rolling in from the ocean. The wood was damp with the scent of salty sea air as it took over for the cotton candy machines that had turned off hours ago. Michael walked with his hands shoved in his jacket pockets, braced against the cold he didn’t really feel anymore.
David didn’t bother to hide, he followed from a few paces behind, knowing Michael knew he was there. He always knew, the way you knew a storm was coming when the sky turned green and the air smelled like wet dirt. It was a thrum through their shared blood, like a thread tethered them together and pulled taught whenever they were close.
Michael stopped walking. He didn’t turn around or say anything, only leaned against the cold and wet brick wall closing off the alley from the rest of the pier.
“What do you want?” he asked when David approached.
David stopped a few feet away, taking a moment to appreciate the beautiful image Michael had created. The streetlight caught all the angles of his face, still round at the edges with boyish softness. David stepped closer, cutting the distance between them as the fog curled around their ankles as if it were a living thing.
“You know,” he started. “This alley’s seen a hell of a lot of action.” He smirked.
“I don’t care” Michael snarled. David leaned against the wall across from him and continued anyway, delighted by the small flicker of interest that shined in Michael’s eyes before he’d pushed it away.
“Summer of ‘83” David said, tilting his head back against the brick. “There was this guy, buzzcut and shitty tattoos, grabbed me by the shoulders and dragged me back here.” He glanced back at Michael, watched the way his eyes darted away from the conversation. “Didn’t even ask my name. Just dropped to his knees like he’d been waiting his whole life for it.”
The boy shifted against the wall. “Great story.” He muttered.
“It is.” David smiled. “Best head I’ve ever had. I’d always heard guys are supposed to be better at it than the ladies, I’d think it’s something about knowing the equipment.”
Michael swallowed. “I wouldn’t know.”
David felt a glint flash in his own eye. “You wouldn’t know? Meaning you…” He chuckled wickedly as Michael’s face glowed redder than the lights on the Ferris wheel. “Oh dear Michael, really? A boy as handsome as you?” he laughed.
“No! I- I didn’t mean-” Michael fought to salvage the moment. “I just meant that- I mean, I’ve done plenty I’m just-” David saw smoke blow out of his ears as the gears in his head turned fast, searching for some way out of this.
“I’m not a virgin I’m just- I’m not-” Michael stammered.
“What? Gay?” David smirked, enjoying how the word made the boy squirm.
Precious, David thought to himself. It was like watching a kitten open its eyes for the first time. He leaned in closer, resting a hand against the brick wall Michael leaned against, blocking his exit with his arm. He let his other hand experiment, drifting upwards until it came to rest on Michael’s chest. He flinched at the touch but didn’t pull away.
“Neither am I.” David crooned, right into Michael’s ear. He let the chill of his breath tickle the skin at the nape of his neck. His fingers stretched out over his chest; the warmth of Michael’s body filtered through his shirt. David could feel his heartbeat, flutters and fits and starts. He relished in feeling it begin to race as he let his knee drift upwards, pressing between Michael’s legs.
There was a monotony to the undead existence that one had to work extra hard to break up and make feel exciting. It was why he did this sort of thing and relished in the chase. He wasn’t sure he even remembered what fatigue or genuine pain felt like, sometimes he found himself yearning for it just for the novelty of new sensations.
But life was so fragile, and human bodies so inconvenient, so completely exposing. With only one touch he knew exactly what Michael was feeling. Simply laying his hand on his chest, or looking at the flush on his face, or the darkness in his eyes, allowed David to essentially read his mind and anticipate every next move. He felt Michael go still against him. A fraught inhale right in his ear.
The grin that spread across David’s face was slow and delighted. He pressed his knee harder, finding stiff resistance under Michael’s jeans.
“Well,” He said, “Isn’t that interesting.”
Michaels hands came up to David’s chest, not pushing him away, but not pulling him closer either. Just gripping his shirt like he needed something to hold onto.
“Don’t do that.” Michael whispered, his voice ragged and hoarse. his face had turned so red the colour drifted into a shade of purple.
“Don’t do what?” David asked, putting on the sweetest voice he could muster. “This?” He rolled his knee again, pressing hard into Michael’s crotch.
“Yes.” Michael groaned, “I mean- I mean no-” But David had already grabbed onto that beautiful sound he just made, filled it away and decided he wanted to hear it again. He lifted his knee, pressed even slower and harder this time, lingering until he felt dampness start to spread. He laughed, low and warm in his chest. He looked down, seeing the patch of darkened denim clearly even with only the moon to light the way. When he looked back up to Michael’s face, his lip quivered with what David had initially thought was rage. That prospect was exciting. But even more exciting was the soft sparkle of tears brewing in his eyes.
“Oh, come on Michael, it’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” He cooed, patting him on the shoulder. “We’re all men here, I know how it is.” The boy looked wounded by the reminder.
“You’re seventeen, a gust of wind will make you hard. Doesn’t mean much, just that your dick’s working properly,” David crooned, giving a mock salute before finally backing off the kid and sauntering away, his hands up in surrender.
“Fuck you.” Michael hissed.
“Maybe someday.” David smirked, taking one last pointed glance at the wet patch on the front of Michael’s jeans before strolling away into the night.