Hrm. My David/Michael seems to be broken. However! I do have a Dwayne/Paul for your viewing pleasure. Inspired by the little air guitar thing Paul does when he puts down the boom box Laddie hands him the first time the boys take Michael to the cave (rewatch it, you'll see what I'm talking about!). That, and the fact that while I was writing it 'Under The Boardwalk' came on the radio, which I took as a sign that I had to finish and post this at once. Title shamelessly stolen from, you guessed it, 'Cry Little Sister'.Hope you enjoy!

One more thing: I know NOTHING of 1980's music, save that I love most of it. That said, the odd mesh of bands and musicians I reference to in here was either featured in The Lost Boys itself or snagged from a late 80s top chart. And my (Dwayne's) insulting comment about 'Walk This Way' is completely untrue. The cover was just as awesome as the original. So. Feel free to criticize, critique, and correct, and I'd love for you to offer up some suggestions of bands I could've used. And I apologize in advance for my ignorance.


Temptation Beats

Paul was humming again, and it was starting to get on Dwayne's nerves. He was humming that rock song by, whatstheirname, Aerosmith, or something. But the song that had been blaring from the skinhead's radio had been a cover, and just wasn't as good. Dwayne would know. Paul forced him to listen to that shit almost every night, either blasting from a beat-up boom box or from speakers on a boardwalk stage-everything from Guns N' Roses to Jimmy Barnes to Foreigner. Personally, Dwayne didn't get what his deal was. Music was music, as far as he was concerned. But tell that to Paul…

Dwayne found the blonde a little ways away torturing a jellyfish that had washed up on the sand. He poked at it with a stick, gently bobbing his head to the rhythm he hummed. Dwayne shook his own head, squinting to look out over the ocean. David and Marko had split after they'd trashed the skinheads and Hell only knew what they were up to now. It seemed like wherever David went, he always gave off the impression of having somewhere better to be, something better to do. A smirk and a look in his eyes. Dwayne didn't really think about it too much.

Paul had grown bored with the dissected jellyfish, pieces of it now littering the sand. He chucked the stick, still squatting, elbows on his thighs, and scoped the beach with a disinterested eye. Then, as though a thought had struck him, tipped his head back to look at Dwayne. "Hey. Wanna cruise the boardwalk?"

Dwayne glanced down. The imprint of wild blonde hair and a stubbled jaw burned behind his eyelids when he blinked. He just shrugged. "Sun'll be up in a few hours."

Paul bounced up-Dwayne took a moment to marvel at the fact that anyone could bounce wearing so much leather-so that he and Dwayne were eyelevel. "So wanna cruise the boardwalk for a few hours?"

Dwayne shrugged again, and Paul huffed, the corners of his mouth curling.

"What?" Dwayne said.

The grin widened. "Nothin', man. C'mon." And they moved off in the general direction of the boardwalk. That would close too soon, and as they'd already eaten…

Presently they were below the pier, Paul jumping on a few stray wooden pilings, swinging on a few standing ones, both of them zigzagging their way around. To anyone else it would have been pitch black. Some bars from a song floated over to Dwayne. He grits his teeth, but the humming was cut off abruptly, and Dwayne turns to find Paul leaning against one of the pilings, pulling out a crumpled cigarette pack. He brandishes it at Dwayne, who shakes his head, but comes closer anyway, digging in his jacket pocket for a lighter. He cups the tiny flame with one hand when Paul tips his head forward, mouth working around the cigarette until the tip glowed orange.

"So, hey, whaddaya think of Mikey?" he said, blowing out a thin line of smoke. Dwayne had been waiting for this. It was the same question Paul had asked Dwayne about Star and Laddie some time back. He joked and played it off, but Dwayne knew Paul was as hesitant as the rest of them when it came to bringing new members into their clan. All three of them, Marko included, had been surprised at David's quick choice of Michael. The kid had a family-an actual family, with a mom, a brother, even a dog-and people who had that weren't so readily willing to give it all up for the night.

"David likes him." This earns Dwayne a distracted grin.

"Yeah. David likes him a little too much." Paul took a long drag. "You like him?"

There was no particular inflection in his voice, nothing to give him away, and the question was casual enough. Did Dwayne like him enough to be a brother, did Dwayne like him enough to be part of their pack…But Dwayne wondered if there was something more to the question, something he could almost see if he tilted his head and stared hard past Paul's composed, lazy features. "He's alright."

Paul nods, almost thoughtfully, then turns and blows a cloud of smoke in Dwayne's face. He only laughs harder when Dwayne shoves him, even as he stumbles back.

Dwayne coughs a little. "Why do you always carry that stuff? You know we can't taste it." He waits as Paul takes one last drag before grinding the stub under his boot heel, shaking back his hair and looking at Dwayne.

"Dunno man. Why do you always carry a lighter?"

They're moving again. Every so often, Dwayne'll feel Paul brush up next to him, bumping into him without a sorry or an excuse me, words they'd abandoned long ago and had since forgotten their meanings. Paul starts singing, quietly at first, under his breath but inevitably the volume rises until the lyrics are yelled and lost into the cool night air. Despite the mounting irritation he feels, Dwayne can't help but notice that Paul has a decent voice, even shouting as loud as he is. Better than decent, actually. For the first time, Dwayne realizes that Paul's showing off for him.

"Walk this wayyyy!" Paul crows, mockingly. Or, he could be doing it to annoy Dwayne, which is entirely the more likely of the two scenarios. He feels the overwhelming urge to shove the other man.

Paul isn't expecting it this time and goes flying, back thumping solidly on a wooden beam supporting the pier. A snarl, and all 160 pounds of Paul smack into Dwayne. They tussle, tackling and pushing and barking with laughter.

Then Paul takes Dwayne's fang earring between his teeth and gives it a hard tug-Paul's always the one who starts in on the biting. Pain shoots through the left side of Dwayne's head. Dwayne takes a fistful of unruly blonde hair and rips Paul off him, bending his head to Paul's neck, fangs extended, face half feral. Paul scratches long fingernails down Dwayne's back, and Dwayne feels it even through the leather. He pulls back, howling. A split second later and Paul's on his neck. Pinpricks, tiny pinches from the points of fangs run over the tender skin there. He grabs Paul's upper arms in a tight grip and squeezes, not drawing in or pushing back, just holding.

It's not long before Paul's teeth give way to his lips, moving over Dwayne's neck and jaw and-finally-mouth. They kiss like waves breaking, intense and powerful, bringing everything in the universe to that one critical moment when the water crashes down onto the earth, then, drawing back, receding, before diving in again and again.

Cold hands slide up under Dwayne's jacket, placing themselves on his bare torso. Long, thin fingers deftly slip further down to the waistband of his jeans. Soon Paul's hips are snapping up against Dwayne's, grinding and rocking. Dwayne knows Paul must have been a musician once, a guitar player probably, anything where he could play an instrument low slung on his hips, hands moving impossibly fast over the strings, hitting all the right notes.

Dwayne shudders. The air is filled with moaning and panting, and the occasional not so muffled curse. Somehow they've managed to back up against one of the pilings. Only after Paul shouts and comes right in Dwayne's hand can Dwayne throw his head back, resting on the wooden support, swallowing convulsively. He feels a light pressure on his Adam's apple, and glances up to find Paul, fingertips trailing over Dwayne's throat, staring at Dwayne, transfixed. Paul's eyes are wide, his lips swollen and bruised. Dwayne can see that Paul is still shaking, face lit up with a manic gleam. They're pressed as close as they can be, but Dwayne puts a square hand on the back of Paul's neck and brings his head closer still until their foreheads touch. It always takes Paul a while to come down from these highs.

For a long while, they don't move, except for the occasional shifting of limbs. It's the first time in too long that Dwayne remembers when time no longer stands for something, no longer marks the dwindling hours he has left before sunrise. In the moment, time released them, off to bother others with its inalterable passing.

Finally, they drew apart, both wincing at the same time, both feeling the call. David was looking for them. Paul's calmer now, as calm as he gets, which means he's still vibrating from simply being undead, but is no longer about to fly apart. He claps Dwayne on the chest with one hand, fingers spread, and grins with his eyes. Something's burning there, in the depths of the blue, incased in that ice-cold body. With no warning, he takes off with a blissful screech, Dwayne on his heels. When they reach the end of the pier, they fly, propelling into the night, howling.

David's waiting by the cliffs with Marko and two unoccupied motorcycles. Clearly, he wants to get in one last ride before daybreak, and the boys don't object. He says nothing about their appearance-ruffled-nor the fact that he probably smelled their arousal from a mile off; he only raises an eyebrow. More of a remark then a question, really.

But Marko looks sideways at them as they mount their bikes. "Where were you two?"

Paul grins cheekily, casually curling up one side of his mouth. "Fucking under the boardwalk."

Marko laughs. "Yeah," he says lightly. "Us too." He revs the engine and takes off after David.

In the brief moment before they follow, Dwayne has to grin.

Paul was humming again.