Fanfic -- The Lost Boys
Dated to January 4th, 2005, and the last one for this string.
Much out of these three is, I freely admit, really bad. But I
never throw out old works, unless it's easier because I'm switching
computers, and they're here for your amusement.
Summary: Michael asks his lover about his favourite petname.
Author's Notes: Presumes an established relationship between David (as a vampire) and Michael (still mortal). Could be taken as an interlude, missing scene or sequel to another fic.
Disclaimer: Go watch the movie. It's not mine. Covers the basics?
Pairing: David/Michael
Rating: PG-15
Angel
Soft curls spilled over the pillow, dark against the warm ivory. David stroked a finger through them, stirring their tangles and purring at their touch. Michael shifted, smiling up at his lover. The vampire gathered him closer, relishing the calm after their joining and admiring the flushed beauty. A surge of feeling washed over him, protective and joyous, and he kissed his lover teasingly.
“My angel,” he murmured.
“Mmm, yes. Your angel. My demon,” the mortal whispered back. “Come back here.”
He wanted to laugh, but demanding hands pulled him down into a longer kiss. A warm tongue swept over his lips and he obeyed the hint eagerly, letting it enter him even as he licked his way into his lover. Strong fingers clutched at him, re-mapping his flesh as he returned the favour. There was a shiver in the skin he touched, and he pulled away long enough to draw the comforter back over them. Then he pressed himself close again, reveling in heat and pleasure. Their kisses slowed, eyes closing as they subsided into lazy caresses.
Beside their nest the fire crackled, sending bursts of sparks into the air. Its light fell over their entwined bodies, gleaming on silken sheets and furs and falling matte on the cotton covers. The fall night seemed to be cooling with their flesh, while outside shard-like stars glittered in the darkness. They were alone in the great cave, the other boys ensconced in a deeper cavern while they luxuriated in the privacy.
Eventually, Michael stirred again.
“David?”
He hummed his attention, faintly surprised that he had yet to utterly exhaust his mortal.
“Thanks.”
He shifted, glancing over with a smile.
“For what?”
“Tonight.” The human blushed. “This is… special. It means a lot to me.”
He shrugged.
“I know. I missed you.”
“God, it was three days.” A slow blink, the remembrance of something yet to be shared shadowing his face for a moment. “You’re right. I missed you too.”
Blue eyes danced.
“Good. You were supposed to, Angel.”
The brunette laughed, hugging him closer. He pressed his lips to the nearest curve, identifying it more by taste than sight.
“Why do you call me that?”
The sudden question pulled him away from temptation. He raised an eyebrow.
“Angel?”
“Yeah. I don’t even remember when you started, but I kinda wondered,” his mate clarified.
He frowned, lying back. Michael followed quietly, pillowing his head on the vampire’s chest. Their arms settled around each other automatically, coming to rest. The sounds of the fire echoed through the lobby; from outside, unending waves sent their music in. Wind-chimes were still, even near the door, though the room was never completely silent. As the minutes slipped by David could feel confusion seep into his lover, and a shiver of unhappiness; more often than not his past was as off limits as the human’s mortality.
“It’s not a big deal, I just-
He shook his head, letting a sad smile flicker over his face.
“Just remembering, Angel. When I was alive we lived in this little village outside of - it doesn’t matter, but outside the city. Father made us all go to church every Sunday, but none of us cared. Mother never cared much, and the church itself wasn’t enough to convince us of anything. Whitewashed walls, hard wooden benches, tiny windows and never enough heat.
“But whenever we went to visit my grandparents in the city we went to their church. I almost liked it; didn’t freeze in it, to start with. There were these big stained glass windows, and lots of warmth and colour. Someone had painted the walls with bible scenes; not great artistry, but good enough. While the adults talked after services I’d wander around looking at the paintings. My favourite was a bunch of angels around the Virgin Mary. Whoever’d done it really worked at it, and it… glowed. I can’t describe it any better than that.”
He paused, swallowing as memory swirled through his visions. The beauty of the old cathedral, how the wooden seats hadn’t seemed so hard when they were polished to gold. His grandmother, in her long, old-fashioned dresses and peppermint scent, standing proud and strong beside his kind grandfather. The loving voice of the city preacher, so different from their own fire-and-brimstone-bent priest. The rising song of the choir, though they were sometimes almost overwhelmed by the heavy organ.
“When I first saw you, chasing after Star, that’s what I thought of. That painting.” He turned his head, watching brown eyes widen. “You look so much like one of the angels.”
Michael’s eyes widened, and he shivered himself. Dusky lips parted to speak and he felt panic rush through him; the promises between them were rarely spoken, and this wasn’t a night for solemn words. So he kissed away whatever response might’ve come, and his Angel gathered him close, answering the break in his voice without words.
The fire slowly faded to embers beside them, the stars shining in fiercely as they made love. This time their joining was slow passion distilled, speech without voice, a silent explosion of every symphony ever written. There was leashed power in every movement, danger in each caress, and love burning ever-brightly in each kiss.
Summary: Michael asks his lover about his favourite petname.
Author's Notes: Presumes an established relationship between David (as a vampire) and Michael (still mortal). Could be taken as an interlude, missing scene or sequel to another fic.
Disclaimer: Go watch the movie. It's not mine. Covers the basics?
Pairing: David/Michael
Rating: PG-15
Angel
Soft curls spilled over the pillow, dark against the warm ivory. David stroked a finger through them, stirring their tangles and purring at their touch. Michael shifted, smiling up at his lover. The vampire gathered him closer, relishing the calm after their joining and admiring the flushed beauty. A surge of feeling washed over him, protective and joyous, and he kissed his lover teasingly.
“My angel,” he murmured.
“Mmm, yes. Your angel. My demon,” the mortal whispered back. “Come back here.”
He wanted to laugh, but demanding hands pulled him down into a longer kiss. A warm tongue swept over his lips and he obeyed the hint eagerly, letting it enter him even as he licked his way into his lover. Strong fingers clutched at him, re-mapping his flesh as he returned the favour. There was a shiver in the skin he touched, and he pulled away long enough to draw the comforter back over them. Then he pressed himself close again, reveling in heat and pleasure. Their kisses slowed, eyes closing as they subsided into lazy caresses.
Beside their nest the fire crackled, sending bursts of sparks into the air. Its light fell over their entwined bodies, gleaming on silken sheets and furs and falling matte on the cotton covers. The fall night seemed to be cooling with their flesh, while outside shard-like stars glittered in the darkness. They were alone in the great cave, the other boys ensconced in a deeper cavern while they luxuriated in the privacy.
Eventually, Michael stirred again.
“David?”
He hummed his attention, faintly surprised that he had yet to utterly exhaust his mortal.
“Thanks.”
He shifted, glancing over with a smile.
“For what?”
“Tonight.” The human blushed. “This is… special. It means a lot to me.”
He shrugged.
“I know. I missed you.”
“God, it was three days.” A slow blink, the remembrance of something yet to be shared shadowing his face for a moment. “You’re right. I missed you too.”
Blue eyes danced.
“Good. You were supposed to, Angel.”
The brunette laughed, hugging him closer. He pressed his lips to the nearest curve, identifying it more by taste than sight.
“Why do you call me that?”
The sudden question pulled him away from temptation. He raised an eyebrow.
“Angel?”
“Yeah. I don’t even remember when you started, but I kinda wondered,” his mate clarified.
He frowned, lying back. Michael followed quietly, pillowing his head on the vampire’s chest. Their arms settled around each other automatically, coming to rest. The sounds of the fire echoed through the lobby; from outside, unending waves sent their music in. Wind-chimes were still, even near the door, though the room was never completely silent. As the minutes slipped by David could feel confusion seep into his lover, and a shiver of unhappiness; more often than not his past was as off limits as the human’s mortality.
“It’s not a big deal, I just-
He shook his head, letting a sad smile flicker over his face.
“Just remembering, Angel. When I was alive we lived in this little village outside of - it doesn’t matter, but outside the city. Father made us all go to church every Sunday, but none of us cared. Mother never cared much, and the church itself wasn’t enough to convince us of anything. Whitewashed walls, hard wooden benches, tiny windows and never enough heat.
“But whenever we went to visit my grandparents in the city we went to their church. I almost liked it; didn’t freeze in it, to start with. There were these big stained glass windows, and lots of warmth and colour. Someone had painted the walls with bible scenes; not great artistry, but good enough. While the adults talked after services I’d wander around looking at the paintings. My favourite was a bunch of angels around the Virgin Mary. Whoever’d done it really worked at it, and it… glowed. I can’t describe it any better than that.”
He paused, swallowing as memory swirled through his visions. The beauty of the old cathedral, how the wooden seats hadn’t seemed so hard when they were polished to gold. His grandmother, in her long, old-fashioned dresses and peppermint scent, standing proud and strong beside his kind grandfather. The loving voice of the city preacher, so different from their own fire-and-brimstone-bent priest. The rising song of the choir, though they were sometimes almost overwhelmed by the heavy organ.
“When I first saw you, chasing after Star, that’s what I thought of. That painting.” He turned his head, watching brown eyes widen. “You look so much like one of the angels.”
Michael’s eyes widened, and he shivered himself. Dusky lips parted to speak and he felt panic rush through him; the promises between them were rarely spoken, and this wasn’t a night for solemn words. So he kissed away whatever response might’ve come, and his Angel gathered him close, answering the break in his voice without words.
The fire slowly faded to embers beside them, the stars shining in fiercely as they made love. This time their joining was slow passion distilled, speech without voice, a silent explosion of every symphony ever written. There was leashed power in every movement, danger in each caress, and love burning ever-brightly in each kiss.