A/N: A huge thank you to Firelle Nym for talking to Mr DEREK LANDY himself at a book signing (is that what it was?) and finding out the colour of Dusk's eyes for me. Love you, sarge! I just realised that what I have in mind for Dusk's Dark Love is like a twisted version of Beauty and the Beast– how the hell did that happen? O_O
The two vampires sat together on the still-broken bed, in a somewhat companionable silence. At least, the aversion Caelan had been showing to Dusk since he got there had dissipated somewhat. Dusk, for his part, was acutely aware of the fact that it was now noon on his third day with his love and he was running out of time. He had to make Caelan remember the love they once had, to make him fall in love with him all over again, or he'd probably never see him again. This was his one chance and he only had three and a half days left.
He shifted as these dark thoughts swirled around in his mind, wincing slightly as pain rippled up from his side. Caelan had cleaned and bandaged the wound, far more gently than Dusk ever could have imagined, taking great care not to hurt Dusk more than he had to. Dusk took this as a good sign for his plan's progression, but it still didn't dull the pain from near his kidneys.
"Is it still hurting you?" the smooth voice asked softly. Dusk looked up and saw Caelan gazing at him through his eyelashes, a bored, disinterested look on his face, but the faintest light of concern in the dark depths.
Dusk smirked. "Not at all."
"Liar." Caelan replied – but there was no accusation in his voice or his eyes, the smallest of smiles gracing his lips as he gave Dusk a look that was almost fond. That look alone was enough to dull the pain.
Dusk suddenly burst out laughing, causing the other vampire to give him a rather alarmed look. "What is it?" the younger male demanded.
When Dusk had got his chuckling under control, he leaned forward slightly and said, "Do you remember, when we went to that festival and Mary chucked the ball right in the centre of the target and Ben went right into the tank?"
Caelan grinned as the memory came back to him. "Oh yeah, I remember that – complained for a month afterwards, he never did have a sense of humour."
"Yeah, going on about how his side," Dusk gestured towards the spot his own wound was located, "hit the side of the tank when he fell in and he was going to have pneumonia and all sorts. I never could understand how she put up with him."
"I know what you mean; I was so proud of Mary, for an old lady, she had a bloody good right throw!" Caelan exclaimed, nodding and laughing in agreement with Dusk's statement.
The two former friends lapsed into talking about their past, something that, for once, caused them no pain. For the night, Dusk was filled with hope, as he tucked the sleeping Caelan into bed softly kissed his forehead to not wake him, setting off to set up the next part of his plan ready for the morning; because, for just a little while, Caelan had not hated him.
XXXXX
Dusk walked along the country county, remembering a night, just like this one, many years ago, when something happened that he would always remember. He knew Caelan had thought of it too, but Dusk did not mention it as he knew he had reached a fragile truce with the younger male and he didn't want to push it just yet. But still, as he stared at the rushing stream, he couldn't help but become lost in the memory.
"Sorry, boys, but I've got to go – I swear that man could moan for Ireland, England and half of Wales!" the old woman sighed, shaking her white-haired head, though her eyes seemed to gleam with mischief. "So, can you two keep yourselves occupied for the rest of the night?"
"Sure thing, Mary!" Seth assured her, delight layering his voice. Mark smiled and shook his head at his friend's attitude, nodding his gratitude and waving goodbye to the sweet old lady, as she hobbled off after the moaning and dripping wet man.
The happy teenager besides him seized his arm and dragged him off on any number of foolish rides and games cubicles, until finally he had put his foot down and demanded they go somewhere quiet, somewhere secluded. And Seth, of course, used to this demand from his anti-social friend, already had the perfect spot in mind – the river. Who would be there when there was so much fun to be had at the fair?
The two males walked to the centre of the bridge and sat down, their heads below the railing, legs swinging over the edge. They sat in companionable silence, as was their usual pastime. Mark glanced at the other boy before placing his hand over Seth's. Seth glanced at him, then looking away as he decided it was an accident, but not moving his hand away.
Mark removed his hand except for the tips of two of his fingers and began to walk them up the bare flesh of Seth's arm, before reaching his shoulder. He softly guided them up over Seth's throat, over his jaw, hesitating when he neared his lips, but steering them away, instead tickling behind Seth's ear. A grin broke over the boy's face and he laughed, ducking his head and breaking the contact of their skin.
"Mark!" he yelled, still laughing, "That tickles!"
"I know," Mark smirked, "That's why I did it."
Seth tried to look affronted, but only managed to hold such a serious facial expression for about five seconds, before succumbing to his laughter again. Mark gazed at him as he expressed his mirth, slowly shifting closer and closer until their legs and sides were pressing against each other. He raised his hand and gripped Seth's head, his palm holding his jaw, fingers on his face and in his hair.
The laughter died on Seth's lips as he stared at his long-time best friend. His breathing grew heavier and he tried to look away, but Mark gripped the other side of his face the same way he gripped the right and forced him, albeit gently, to look at him as he moved poked his head forward and kissed the other boy's startled lips.
He stared at the elder male as he leaned away. He didn't ask stupid questions, he knew what that had meant, he knew Mark was aware of his feelings, he knew Mark felt the same. But the thought that this could actually happen . . .
"It's wrong." He whispered. "We're both male . . . it's unnatural."
Mark shook his head and pressed their mouths together once more. When he released Seth and pulled back, he murmured, "Only because they say it's wrong. Who are they to judge anyway?"
"But . . ." Seth mumbled, trying to find some ground for the argument he had been taught to believe.
Mark cut him off, "I love you. I love you, and you love me, and that's all that matters." He pushed the Seth to lie on his back on the hard, wooden bridge, as he leant over him. "It's all that matters. Just for tonight, let's forget about them and love each other the way he really do."
Dusk shivered as he turned his mind back to the present. As he turned to finished his business and then return to his home, he swore, he and Caelan would have each other again one day. And nothing would get in the way of that.
XXXXX
"No peaking, now," Dusk whispered into Caelan's ear as they walked along, Dusk guiding Caelan by holding his hand, the younger vampire's dark eyes squeezed shut as per the elder's request. Dusk had gently shaken Caelan awake and, without rhyme or reason, driven him out deep into the country side of Ireland, then parked and got out, telling Caelan to close his eyes for the last kilometre or so.
Suddenly Dusk held Caelan firm from behind, halting him. "Okay, now open your eyes." Caelan did so – and gasped as he realised where they were. They were in a beautiful part of the Irish highlands, grass and trees and flowers surrounding them; the rain had stopped to allow bright, clear sunshine to beat down on their shoulders and warm them up. A small river flowed by, gurgling away happily, the outlines of healthy fish just visible in the clean water. But it wasn't the beautiful scenery that drew Caelan's attention, it was the building.
In front of him stood a modest cottage with a thatched roof, the outer design black and white, the door a deep, oak leaf green with an old-fashioned wooden knocker in the centre of the wood. Two windows right at the front of the house were covered by pristine white net curtains and an old, but not crumbling redbrick chimney poked out of the ceiling. Caelan could only stare at it, lost in the many memories that flooded him at the sight of the place.
"Caelan?" Dusk asked, sounding slightly uncertain.
Calean swallowed, forcing down the lump in his throat. "Mary's cottage."
Dusk nodded, hesitating for a moment, before slipping an arm around Caelan's waist and turning to face the small building. "Mary's cottage," he confirmed, "I've been keeping an eye on the place ever since she died. Her nephew and his family wanted to sell it so they could move to Australia, or something like that, so I jumped in with an offer."
He glanced at Caelan out of the corner of his eye. "Do you like it?"
Caelan turned his head to stare at Dusk, dark brown eyes gazing into grey. "It's wonderful. Thank you for bringing me here." He smiled at Dusk, for the first time in many years. Dusk smiled back – his first genuine smile in a very long time. He paused for a second, before leaning forward and resting their foreheads together, breathing in Caelan's scent and enjoying the feeling of warmth that came from being close to the person you love.
A/N: Kinda sappy, but that's just a cushion as I'm going to get into the angst in the next chapter. Hope you liked it!
