Into the fire ch.4 - Love Bleeds
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Warnings: Non-con/dub-con, explicit m/m sex scene
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David chuckles, a low rumble Michael can feel in his gut. The pale blond stands and looks down at the newborn vampire still crouched amongst grotesque remains, face and chest slathered in gore.
Beautiful, David thinks to himself. Mine. Ice blue eyes flash gold for the briefest moment, smirk blossoming on the boyish face of an ancient killer.
"Clean up your mess, Michael." Ocean eyes meet his, then glance at the carnage glistening wetly on the sand. "Do the crime, do the time. We don't leave messes for the mortals to find."
Michael sits back on his heels and tucks himself away, halfway hard once more after David's brief gift of attention. He picks up pieces with disinterest, using the fabric to bundle it all together, looking at David when he's done.
"Up and over, easy enough. If there's anything left after the fishes get it, well, lots of pretty girls commit suicide around here. Sad, really."
Nodding, Michael wads up the fabric a little more, then hurls the bundle with all his strength. It flies out and over, the faint splash barely enough for their ears to pick up over the constant crash of the waves.
"Nice throw."
David swirls the sand at Michael's feet, obscuring the blood and other detritus left. He puts a hand on the boy's chin, licking across plump lips, across the wash of red turning tacky and thick as it dries.
Michael's eyes flutter, and he reaches for David, confusion furrowing his brow when his arms catch only air. David is back over by the stairway, leaning easily on the weathered wood, cigarette flaring in the dark.
"Gotta get cleaned up. Can't take you anywhere looking like that." David gestures to the stairs.
Michael frowns and wipes at his cheeks, grimacing at the clotting blood which mixes with the sand on his hand. He growls in frustration as he heads for the steps, David falling in behind him.
Paul greets them as soon as they enter, hopping from foot to foot like an eager, overanxious puppy. "You good, man?" He directs the question to Michael.
Michael casts him a dead-eyed stare and shrugs.
Something must tell Paul not to bother him anymore. The other boy gives him a quick, flimsy pat on the shoulder, off-beat tune a whistle under his breath as he rocks on his feet.
David understands Paul's unease, guarded himself, even as he leads Michael to the tide pool a few cave walls away. "Come on, boys. Time to get cleaned up."
Dwayne and Marko follow them in. Paul is the very last for once, usually the first to cannonball into the murky depths, hollering loudly. Marko takes his place this time. He collides with the water, splash overtaken by his raucous cackle, flinging his arms and legs around, trying to wet everyone still on land.
David notices Michael watching, catches the first spark of real emotion in Michael's eyes since he fed the night before, and it's pure, uneqivical gaiety.
Surprising everyone, Michael lets out a wild howl, jumping feet-first into the tide pool. Marko flings his head back in laughter after the initial shock, watches in gleeful awe as Michael surfaces, joining in with a playful elbow to his side. He oofs with the blow, Michael's newfound strength a touch on the rough end, but grins widely.
"Welcome to the club, Michael!"
Michael returns his grin, looking less than human, somehow more teeth, more threat than humor, though his eyes hold no malice. Dwayne lands in the pool behind him, wraps his arms around his new brother, pulls him close, nipping at an ear.
"You wanna play, Michael?"
Dwayne grinds against Michael's ass, a hand on the move to cup Michael's length, chuckling as the brunette groans and tilts his head back, hips rocking into the other man's touch. Marko's lips find his throat, bite gently as he works his way down, until blonde curls sink beneath the waterline. Michael's eyes roll back, soft moans escaping full lips.
Just as quickly, the magic mouth is gone, Dwayne's hard cock no longer teasing the ridge of his ass. Michael whines at the loss, and then David is in front of him, eyes flashing with mischief. Pale hands caress skin still golden from the sun, drawing the young man's attention.
"Do you want to play, Michael?" that whisky-soaked drawl teases. "Then catch me, if you can."
David vanishes from the pool, only low ripples in the water, a bit of breeze to ruffle Michael's wet hair. Three smiles flash as their leader disappears, leaving the dark-haired boy to stand half-submersed, blinking in confusion.
"Well, what are you waiting for? Go get him, Mikey!" Paul laughs, his shrill voice a skittering echo in the small cavern.
"If you think you can," Dwayne challenges, climbing out to wipe off his chest with a nearby shirt.
"Hey, that's mine!" Paul shouts, indignant. Dwayne just gives him the finger.
Marko moves close to Michael with hooded eyes and a sharp smile, reaching for his cheek. "You missed a spot. Can't go out looking like a monster. Not yet, anyway."
Michael allows the curly-haired boy to clean him up, leaning into the gentle touch despite the teasing from the sidelines. Marko slips behind him, hands pulling lightly on broad shoulders, urging him down.
"Rinse off, brother. David's waiting for you."
Michael sinks into the water, runs hands quickly through tangled curls to wash the final traces of blood and offal away. Rising up, the water sluices down his toned body, drops sparkling in the low candlelight.
Marko scratches lightly down his back and Michael arches, gasps, eyes closing. Paul and Dwayne exchange glances, smirk hungrily at the beautiful youth standing exposed and unwary in their midst. Marko grins, sending his thoughts to them.
'Let David have his fun, our turn will come.'
He guides the boy up and out of the pool, helps him dry off, sort through the cast offs of victims for something less bloodstained to wear. There's even a pair of boots in the pile of scraps, and when Michael heads up the stairs, he's transformed, a Lost Boy, one of them: no sign left of the lonely, angry teenager searching for a place to belong.
David waits patiently on the cliff, leaning against his bike and taking slow drags off his cigarette. He smiles as Michael comes into view, nods as the boy comes close, pulls out the pack and offers the kid a smoke.
Michael takes it without hesitation, leans in as David flicks his lighter. If the smoke bothers his throat or lungs, he doesn't show it. With one last drag, David flicks his stub to the ground and extinguishes it with a boot.
"Ready, Michael?"
The brunette takes a deep pull, blowing the smoke out with a shake of his head.
"I still can't beat your bike."
David smirks at the opening. "You don't have to beat me, Michael. You just have to keep up."
Michael snorts and rolls his eyes, hint of a smile teasing his lips. "Bastard."
Throwing a leg over his bike, David fires it up, the throaty roar harsh in the quiet of the late night. He glances over his shoulder with a sarcastic grin, revving the engine. "So?"
Michael climbs on his own much smaller bike, kicking it to life, startled by the sudden spray of sand as David takes off. He is quick to follow, surprised when the race takes them up into the dry hills above Santa Carla, through low brush and into the quaint stretch of forest. David is practically flying, weaving around trees at breakneck speed. Michael is too focused to think of anything beyond staying on the leader's tail, matching each turn and jump move for move.
Even so, David somehow gets away from him, and even with his new senses all he can see is a distant red tail light glinting in the shadows. In his rush to keep up, he bursts into a clearing, David's bike parked on the other side. As he hits the brakes, an arm wraps around him, yanks him from the bike, which spins out of control and drops to the ground.
David grips him, throws him to the ground with force, and he'd be broken, dazed and winded if he were still human. Michael's blue eyes flash gold, flared in anger.
"What the hell, asshole!?"
David's answering grin is all sharp, razor teeth and dark promises. "Time you learn your place, Mikey."
Michael's eyes go flat, bored, whatever raw human emotion he would have once had now quashed by an immortal fearlessness, unknown to vulnerability.
That won't do. Not at all.
David pins the boy below him, presses his elbow down on Michael's throat, the force not a threat but uncomfortable enough to get a reaction nonetheless; hips pushing forward, seeking yet also retracting, lips pulled back.
"Are you gonna fuck me or not, David?" Michael spits the last syllable out in a growl, canting his lower body up, then down.
David growls in return, eyes glowing furiously at the challenge, at the sheer audacity of the boy beneath him, and slices his long fingernails along Michael's chest.
Michael closes his eyes as material rips and skin tears, but doesn't give in and make a sound, even as his clothes are viciously stripped off his body, leaving him naked on the dirty ground. He's manhandled around, forced down onto his stomach, despite his limbs not fighting against it. David wants him to learn, huh? Too bad he's enjoying this way too much.
David expects something to break, for Michael's resolve to snap, as he mounts the kid without any prep or consideration. Nothing. Not even a growl of complaint. What he does hear, however, is a different kind of complaint.
"Move." Michael's tone is drenched in annoyance.
David smirks. Ah, maybe he would teach Michael a lesson after all.
"What was that, Michael? Want me to move?" David remains still, his cock filling the boy's insides, solid and thick but fixed in place. He knows from experience that the pressure is torturous, and soon Michael will be begging him to give him what he wants. What he needs.
"Yes," Michael snarls, head hanging down between his shoulders, the bone and muscle visible under tan skin fraught with tension.
David clicks his tongue as he lets his hips shift a little, enough to focus the length of his girth on Michael's prostate, but not enough yet to cause pleasure. It would be an ache of too much, just an empty weight without the sensation.
"Better?" he murmurs smugly.
Michael does react this time; a goddamn beautiful reaction, too. His knees lock up, spine coiling over, toes and fingers kneading the sand beneath them. David hears the boy whine, high-strung and tiny, as if the noise was pulled unwillingly from the depths of his throat.
"How's that?" he drawls, teasing and saccharine.
Michael groans his name this time, body jerking, then slumping, stuck and impaled with nowhere to go. David runs his hands up and down the boy's thighs, cups his ass, feels where they are connected, kisses the shell of his ear.
"Hmm, I wonder if this is how Star felt," he whispers. "If she felt this helpless, consumed, eaten alive."
David rears back all the way now, sliding in with a rough thrust. Michael lets out a shaky moan, but he ignores it, continues to repeat the action again and again and again, until moans become whimpers, the whimpers rising in octave.
"You think she sounded like this?" David's own voice is strained from exertion, though the cold detachment to his words is still the same. "Like a desperate whore? Huh? Like she wanted to be taken apart, fucked until she screamed?"
Michael's whimpers dissolve into gasping mewls, nearly as loud as the heavy slap of flesh. David knows he's close, can smell the gathering precome on the boy's untouched cock.
"You are just like her, Michael," he snarls, fingers wrapping around him, squeezing hard. "Only difference is, you're not getting off so easily."
David comes, buried inside as far as the boy's body will allow, his other hand like iron, gripping the boy's left hip. Michael groans, limbs trembling to hold himself up, any orgasm he had been about to have completely ruined as he's pumped and filled but left unsatiated.
Pulling out, David stands, leaving the boy listless on the ground as he tucks himself away. He can smell the desperation; the boy is close, but not there yet.
Michael gasps, rolling over, reaching for himself as he seeks relief. David is quicker, grasping the outstretched hand in a grip that would shatter weak human bones, smirking as the look of confusion fades into irritation.
"Naughty boy. Didn't your mother ever teach you not to play with yourself? Time for a little lesson."
With deceptive ease, David swings Michael up, tossing him into a nearby tree. Michael hits with a heavy thud and a resounding crack, wheezing as he drops to the ground. He lifts his head, eyes unfocused and hazy with pain. He grunts as a leg straightens and reconnects, toes scrabbling in the dirt as he tries to stand.
A faint breeze caresses his cheek as David moves close beside him. "Give in, Michael, and I might go easy on you."
"Fuck you."
David chuckles. He didn't expect anything less. "Let's try that again."
He grabs one of Michael's legs, sinking his claws in deep. Michael howls, turning and twisting to get free. David laughs, swinging him again easily, lifting him up toward another tree, stomach first this time. Michael's body curls around the solid trunk, and he yells as his abdomen is pierced by a broken branch.
Whimpering, Michael squirms, like a bug pinned to a tray, limbs moving wildly. David ambles up with a smirk, runs a finger along the blood-soaked branch, licking it with dark relish. He moves into Michael's view, and with a casual push frees the boy from his mooring. The brunette collapses in a heap on the ground, hand on the hole in his side, shaky breaths hissing out between clenched teeth.
"Who do you belong to, Michael?"
"Not… not you."
"You don't sound so sure. Enjoy another reminder."
David grabs Michael by his feet, swings him against the nearest trunk. The crunch would be audible, even to a mortal. Michael's legs go limp, his back broken. Gasping in pain, he tries to crawl away from David, only for the blond to move with easy strides, his spurred boots now directly in his way.
"Had enough, Michael? I can do this all night. I can do this every night. And I will, night after night, until you learn where you belong. Learn who owns you, all of you, for the rest of eternity."
He lights a cigarette, enjoying the heat of the smoke as he inhales slowly. Below him, Michael frowns, pants, screams hoarsely as part of his spine reconstitutes, nerves flaring back to life. More grunts, more whines, as the brunette's body knits back together.
David taps his boot impatiently. "I'm waiting."
He crouches, clawed fingers grip Michael by the scalp. The boy tries to flinch, but David's hold is too strong; all he can do is wrap a hand over his tormentor's in useless effort.
Their eyes meet, and David's glare is fire backed by ice. Michael stares back, anger and rebellion burn wild behind eyes like the ocean, flare briefly, then flicker, sputter, and die out. Michael knows he's lost, knows he had no more chance than a rain puddle against the ocean. He goes slack in David's grip, eyes downcast.
David grins in triumph as the boy turns pliant. He loosens his hold, merciful fingertips a soothing stroke over raw, tender scrapes and bruises. With surprising care, he pulls Michael into his lap, brushes wild brown curls back, thumb trailing gently over a high cheekbone. His other hand wraps around the boy's cock.
"That's it." David's words are low, hushed as he watches the boy finally reach his peak. "Let go. We take care of each other, Michael. More than your so-called family ever have, more than they ever will. Listen well, stand with us, and you'll never be alone again."
Michael quivers and lets out a soft, broken sigh as he spills over David's hand.