Story 04: The Art of Ruining a Proper Good Sulk
Word Count: 2284 (full version is 2799)
Disclaimer: Fright Night and all characters therein © Tom Holland/Craig Gillespie
Warnings/Rating: M for language, sexual content and adult themes.
Author's Note: THIS IS A CENSORED VERSION. I felt that the complete version is too graphic for the content rules here at ffnet. Sorry, I know it sucks, but I don't feel like getting in trouble with the management. The page break lines in the middle of the story mark where scenes were cut. The full, gloriously smutty version is posted at my LiveJournal account, which you can find a link to in my profile. You do have to be of age (18+) in order to access the page.
The sun was hurting his eyes, making Peter half-wish he'd chosen a better spot to brood. He was on the floor in front of the large window in the great room, leaning against the back of his favourite armchair with his knees drawn up to his chest. Despite the cool draft from the air conditioning, he felt like his skin was burning where the light touched his arms and his face and his bare toes. A lingering ghost pain, he figured, from almost-but-not-quite turning. He would've moved, but with the mood he was in, he rather liked the sting of it just then.
Peter lifted his clove cigarette to his lips and took a long drag. He held it as long as he could, then blew out a stream of smoke to glance off the glass, making a halo around the sun sinking past the desert hills. He wondered, if the sun was burning, why one never saw it smoke? It was a rather misleading illusion.
The elevator dinged in the front hall, and he listened to the doors sliding open and shut. Soft footsteps followed, becoming impossibly loud as they echoed through the penthouse. Charley, probably. Coming over after his last class of the day at LVSU. Little fucker.
The steps continued into Peter's enormous sitting room and paused, sneakers squeaking slightly against the polished floors. "Peter? You here?"
Peter winced and slouched lower. He hoped Charley would go away and leave him to his clove-flavored nicotine and misery. The last thing he wanted right now was company, especially that of some stupid kid playing at vampire hunter and, for whatever ungodly reason, turning Peter into his pet project for humanity. He'd probably grow bored soon enough; everyone did, eventually. Peter would just as soon head him off.
Almost immediately he felt guilty for the uncharitable thought. Charley was a good kid; probably one of the best people Peter knew. But then, he was feeling rather resentful of good people at the moment. He swiftly quashed the stroke of regret and let the bitterness fester.
The footsteps started again, sounding less echo-y and more solid as they came closer to his hiding spot. He heard Charley's backpack and motorcycle helmet land on the floor. The leather chair behind him creaked and shifted slightly as a certain skinny teenager made himself comfortable in Peter's chair, goddammit. As if he hadn't already claimed the chair opposite Peter's as his months ago. Peter chewed on his fag and glowered at the silhouetted city below.
"Peter?" he heard over his head. He took the cigarette between two fingers and tilted his head back, locking eyes with Charley, who was peeking over the back of the chair at him. "What are you doing back there?" Charley asked curiously. He had a soft, exasperated smile on his face.
Peter's neck was already staring to complain, so he stopped craning his head back and turned his attention back to the last few minutes of sunlight. The last few minutes of relative safety. He took another drag. "Fuck off."
"Whoa, dude, what was that for?" Charley replied.
"That was for fuck. off. Charley."
The leather upholstery creaked again, and Peter turned his head just enough to catch a glimpse over the back of the chair of brown curls moving up and around. He turned his head the other way, following Charley's movements. The teen came around the armchair and crouched down next to him. "What's wrong, Peter?" Charley asked, all concerned blue eyes and clean white hands and rumpled plaid shirt.
Peter moodily stubbed out his cigarette on the floor. "Leave it, kid." Why was Charley still hanging around? Didn't he get into enough trouble on his own, without tagging along and catching half of Peter's?
Charley eyed him a moment longer, then stood. He disappeared behind the chair again, and Peter felt him settle back into it. The illusionist slumped hard against the leather and stared out the window and cursed himself for putting out his cigarette.
"So I have a question for you, Peter," he heard through the chair.
Peter sighed. "Charley, seriously, I'm not in the mood. Just go."
Charley ignored him, and Peter would have admired his stubbornness had it not been so annoying. Was it really so much to ask to be left alone for a proper good sulk? "I was talking with some of the guys at school between classes," he said, punctuated by Peter's sighing, "and somehow or other, we ended up talking about vampires."
"How shocking," Peter said dully.
"Hey, I didn't bring it up. I came into the middle of the conversation, actually."
"Fascinating."
"Actually," Charley said, "It was kind of interesting, because they were talking about how to properly kill a vamp."
Peter stuck the half-burnt fag back between his teeth, chewing the end. "And did you tell them how you lit yourself up like the Human Torch and gave your neighbor a bear hug before skewering him on a chunk of wood?" he snarked.
Charley snorted, but he didn't really sound that amused. "No, I left that out. But anyways, we were talking, and here's my question: Could you, theoretically, stake a vampire with a carrot?"
Peter nearly swallowed his cigarette and swiveled around to stare incredulously at Charley's hand on the armrest, the only part of his young friend he could see. "Eh?"
Charley turned in the chair, his face peeking around the back to look seriously at Peter. "Could you stake a vampire with a carrot?" he asked again, completely serious and straight-faced.
Peter realized he was gaping at Charley and quickly schooled his expression into something a little more dignified. "…Why the fuck would you attempt to stake a vampire with a carrot?" he turned around again, resting his head back against the chair. "As if they aren't hard enough to kill."
"No, but… wood is plant material, and so are carrots. They have the right shape and about the right size and they're fairly solid." Jesus. Stupid kid actually talked like he'd given this some thought.
Peter resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose in chagrin. "Charley, you've staked vampires before. You know exactly how difficult it is to drive a bit of wood through muscle and bone all the way to the heart. If you try to stab someone with a carrot, all you're going to do is break the carrot. And maybe, if you're lucky, give them a bruise."
"I'm not saying it's a practical idea. But could it be done?"
Peter shook his head, raising his hands in frustration before letting them slap back down onto the floor. "How the fuck should I know? I've never been stupid enough to try it."
Silence fell, and Peter let himself relax. Hopefully Charley had grown bored and would -
"But theoretically…"
"Theoretically, Charley, if you ever attempt to stake a vampire with a carrot, I'm disowning you as a hunting partner."
Charley laughed softly. "Alright, alright, carrots are out." He paused, then said, "So if carrots are out-" Peter groaned, but Charley ignored him, "Then obviously there are some actually practical restrictions on what you can use to stake them."
Peter shook his head. "Obviously," he said sarcastically, then sighed and gave up hope of ending the conversation without first satisfying Charley's curiosity. "The best stakes should be made of a hardwood of some kind. Yes, it's all plant material, but the difference in density and composition does affect the results. And don't ask me for specifics, because I don't fucking know, alright? I'm not a fucking botanist."
"What if it's silver-tipped, or something?" Charley asked.
"Silver's for werewolves, Charley," Peter reminded him, "Won't do a fucking thing to a vampire." Peter pushed himself up a little straighter, arching his back to get the kinks out. "According to some traditions, the only wood you should use is aspen or ash. Some sort of religious context, Christ's cross, or something like that. But as far as I know, any kind of wood will do, it's just hardwoods are less likely to break before you can stake the suckers."
Peter glanced over at the bar, wondering if Charley would bring him his Midori if he asked nicely. …On the other hand, being nice was overrated. "Are you done bitching at me about stakes now?" he snapped grumpily.
"Depends," Charley answered. "Are you done being a bitch yet?"
"No," Peter said petulantly. He ran his hand through his hair. "Charley, would you please just leave already? I'm really fucking not good company, in case you hadn't noticed yet."
There was a long silence, and then he heard behind him, "I'm not going anywhere, Peter." The voice was so soft, and so layered with meaning, that Peter wondered for a moment if he'd imagined it.
"Jesus, kid," Peter muttered, then said louder, "Give it a rest would you? You're ruining a proper good sulk here."
"I know," Charley replied, and this time Peter could hear the smug smile in his voice.
He hesitated only a moment before finally pulling himself to his feet and stomping around the chair to face that smug smile dead on. He leaned down, his hands clamping onto the armrests and trapping the younger man in his seat.
Charley just looked up at him, seeming amused, damn him. Peter growled and kissed him.
He felt Charley's lips curve against his own into a smile. He kissed him harder, pushing him back into the smooth leather. Charley's arms came up to loop around his neck, draping over Peter's narrow shoulders so softly it was like he thought the magician might break if he held him too tightly.
Peter tried to deepen the kiss, to make it sloppy and rough the way he wanted it right now. Charley seemed to have other ideas; he eased back, but didn't pull away entirely, so that their lips were barely touching.
Annoyed, Peter broke off the far-too-chaste kiss entirely and gave another possessive growl. Charley laughed, and Peter's temper flickered a little hotter. He hoisted himself up onto the chair, straddling Charley's lap and grinding down.
Charley hummed appreciatively. Peter looked down at him, matching the teen's victorious little smirk with a glare. "Shut the fuck up," Peter muttered before kissing him again.
Charley raised his hips as best as he could with a lap full of aggressively horny magician. A filthy moan came rumbling up out of his chest, and Peter seized the opportunity to slip his tongue into Charley's mouth, bringing the fight for dominance into even closer quarters.
Except Charley didn't even seem to be trying to fight him. His hands slid up into Peter's hair, stroking soothingly at his scalp, then ghosting back down over the nape of his neck, making him shudder. He turned the kiss slow and deep and gentle without Peter even realizing it. The magician was too swept away by sensation, savoring Charley's taste, the feel of that leanly muscled body pressing up against his rhythmically, the gentle touch of Charley's fingers lazily stroking behind his ear.
He was startled out of this haze by Charley drawing back again, disentangling their tongues. Peter blinked unfocused eyes only to close them again with a soft moan; Charley was tracing the sharp line of his jaw back to his earlobe, nibbling at it. Then his hands were sliding up under the hem of Peter's t-shirt while he mouthed his neck.
Peter was not accustomed to the sort of romance Charley was into. He was used to hard and fast and rough, backstage blowjobs and showgirls who would do damn near anything in the hopes of a little more attention from the star of the show. Charley was young yet, keen and enthusiastic, but used to caring and slow and sweet. It turned Peter on far more than he'd thought it ever would whenever that gentle attention was all focused on him, as it was now.
Peter was demanding in his kisses, wanting to get lost in Charley and forget, for what little time he could steal, everything else in the world but this young man. Charley met him eagerly, submitting but not giving in, his hands roaming up under Peter's shirt again. Peter half-wanted him to grip his waist tighter, to leave finger-shaped bruises that he would no doubt grin apologetically at later when Peter fussed over having to make sure they couldn't be seen during his show. But this was nice too, tender touches drawing him just a little closer.
Spent, Charley slumped back against the chair, slouching down in exhaustion. Peter curled over him, tucking his head under Charley's chin. He pressed his ear against his lover's chest, closing his eyes and counting out that strong heartbeat pounding away, counting out each deep breath filling his lungs. Charley's hands were moving over his back in slow soothing circles; he felt Charley shift above him, pressing a kiss into his hair. He smiled faintly.
After a nice long minute of simply sitting curled up together, Peter pulled away, sitting up straight. His eyes wandered over Charley's face, lingering on the smile in his eyes and the rosy color of his lips. He combed his fingers through Charley's hair, pushing damp curls back from his forehead.
One of Charley's hands slid up his spine to cradle the back of his head, drawing him in close. "Feeling better?" Charley murmured against his mouth. He kissed him lazily.
Peter let himself enjoy the slow, messy kiss, then drew away. He leaned his forehead against the teen's, looked him directly in the eye for a moment, then said affectionately, "Fuck off, Charley."
Once More, Lest You Forget: THIS IS A CENSORED VERSION. I felt that the complete version is too graphic for the content rules here at ffnet. Sorry, I know it sucks, but I don't feel like getting in trouble with the management. The page break lines in the middle of the story mark where scenes were cut. The full, gloriously smutty version is posted at my LiveJournal account, which you can find a link to in my profile. You do have to be of age (18+) in order to access the page.