Da Capo
A/N: So, this is it-the home stretch of a fic that has taken me the best part of a year, on and off. There is some closure, and the possibility of a little more to come, if I choose to explore the very obvious character development, but for now I'm going to call it a day on this one and start a new M/D story. I hope you enjoy it!
It seemed an eternity later that Michael finally opened his eyes. Groggily, as his lids rebelled against even the dim light of the cave, he became aware instantly of the hunger that was gnawing at his insides; a familiar sensation that took him back the first time that he'd been half-turned. These, however, were not the abstract stirrings of a slowly changing body; the sensations that Michael felt upon waking were sharp and painfully vibrant and signalled to him straight away that he was a changed man.
"David?" Michael croaked, slowly, painfully opening his eyes. Thankfully, it appeared to be evening, as Michael knew that even the hazy glow from the outside world through the mouth of the cave was enough to send him running for cover now. Turning over in the antique bed, Michael's gaze came to rest on his sire, who was sitting in an armchair by the bed.
"Angel," David murmured. He held Michael's gaze for a moment, and then swiftly sprang from the chair to sit on the bed next to the younger man.
"Help me," Michael said faintly. "David, help me, please." Michael was seized by a sudden pain in his stomach, and he doubled over on the bed.
"Stay here," David replied. Pausing only to stroke the damp hair from Michael's fevered brow, he was gone.
It seemed an eternity between the time that Michael felt David leave, and his eventual return. Seconds ticked by, devoid of all meaning except as a measure of the deepening pain within. Dimly, he realised that time, as he had known it before, had ceased all meaning. Michael closed his eyes and curled up on the bed, waiting for David to make the pain go away.
"Michael," the voice was soft, but with an undercurrent of nails over velvet.
"David?" Michael's lips were dry, his throat parched with the raw need for blood.
"Drink." It was a command. Opening his eyes slightly, Michael saw that he and David were no longer alone in the cave. Beside the vampire stood a young man, probably no more than eighteen years old, tall, lean and dressed in black.
"Who is he?" Michael croaked, in no mood for conversation.
"A willing volunteer," David replied. "You are too weak to kill a struggling meal-there are some who volunteer a little of their blood eagerly-for times when we ourselves can't catch our own sustenance."
The young man nervously shook his long dark hair from his eyes. As he did so, even in his weakened state Michael observed the two small puncture wounds in the boy's neck. This obviously wasn't the first time that the boy had "donated" blood.
"Jonathan, come here," David said. "This is Michael. He would appreciate a little nourishment." He drew the boy closer to him and wound his long, pale hands briefly around the boy's neck. "It would be so easy to turn you," he murmured to Jonathan, "but you resist me every time." In an odd, intimate gesture, he placed his lips against the boy's pale forehead. "For now, I suppose it's for the best."
As David brought Jonathan closer to the bed, Michael immediately sensed the boy's heartbeat increasing, and the pain inside him seemed to renew. A moan escaped his lips. Jonathan sat down close to Michael and waited. It took every ounce of strength in Michael's body to restrain himself from plunging his new fangs deep into the boy's neck there and then, and taking the last drop of blood from him.
"Take just a little," David warned. "You are still weak, and if you over feed you will feel a thousand times worse than you do now. Take your time. Jonathan is a willing volunteer." He remained standing, and Michael knew that David, quite aside from the necessity of getting Michael to feed, was becoming aroused at the prospect of the sight of what was about to happen. There was a hunger in his eyes that Michael recognised as the pleasure pain of eroticism.
Michael struggled to a seated position on the bed, and tucked his long legs under him. Reaching out, he caressed the side of Jonathan's neck with a cool hand. He was amazed at how hot the boy's skin felt to his fingertips. He heard his mind framing the question are you sure you want to do this? But he didn't ask it out loud. The instinct to feed was so strong that he couldn't contemplate introducing any doubt into Jonathan's mind. He needed this, to make the gnawing pain go away.
"Take it slowly," David advised in a husky undertone. Michael knew that the scene on the bed was tantalising David almost as strongly as his own desire to feed. "For once, there is no need to kill. Jonathan is one of very few who are valuable to us."
"Don't worry, man," Jonathan replied. "I can take it." He brushed Michael's fingertips with his own as he pulled the thick curtain of dark hair away from his neck. "I'm all yours."
Michael needed no further invitation. The newly grown fangs that lurked beneath the surface of his gums began to break free, and suddenly his senses were even more aware of Jonathan's blood rushing through his veins. Pulling Jonathan around to face him, he felt the pulse point of the boy's neck jumping under his fingertips, and knew that he would soon be able to dull the pain inside. Moving his head slightly, he braced his teeth against the smooth, pale flesh of Jonathan's neck and in the split second before he began to feed, he marvelled at how delicate the boy's skin was. As he punctured Jonathan's neck, the warm, coppery taste of his blood trickled into Michael's mouth and down into his hungry throat. He began to feel the strength that the blood was giving him almost instantly. He didn't even realise that he was moaning out loud.
All too soon he felt David's hands prising him away from Jonathan. The boy was conscious but weakened by his encounter with Michael. The blood that Michael had taken from him had given Michael in instant strength, which he used to help David settle Jonathan back against the pillows. There was a small trail of blood drying on Jonathan's neck, and David, with a small wink to Michael, leaned over the boy and lapped it clean.
"I feel better," Michael said, his voice returning to normal. "But what's in it for him?"
"The illusion of immortality," David replied, his voice still husky, but this time with renewed desire. "And the protection of the boys, as they once were."
"What do we do with him now?" Michael said, sensing David's arousal.
David said nothing and merely smiled. He leaned over to where Jonathan lay. The boy had opened his eyes and was now looking at David and Michael.
"David and I have been well acquainted over the past year," Jonathan said, in a surprisingly strong voice. "We have, how do I put it, a good working relationship." He reached out an idle hand to caress David's black clad thigh. "It seems to agree with us."
Michael realised that he should have been jealous, and had he still been human, he probably would have been. But this was different. He was different. All he felt now was the familiar twist of lust.
"This working relationship," Michael said. "Is it an exclusive arrangement?"
"Not any more," David responded. "But then, things have changed around here." He glanced down at Jonathan's hand on his thigh, and then back up at the boy's face. Something unspoken passed between them. With a slight nod, Jonathan turned to face Michael and kissed the new vampire on the mouth.
"The final part of the arrangement," Jonathan muttered.
Michael felt himself harden as the younger man continued to kiss him, and in a tangle of limbs and bodies, he, David and Jonathan became one entity.