Part IV
By Woolhats Traveling Mood
The prince stood, Micky lifeless in his arms and staggered to the door. Once in the living room, he lowered Micky to the floor and stared in astonishment. The blue tint around Micky's mouth was too familiar and Mike struggled to catch his breath as he pumped Micky's chest in anxiety. No response, no sign of life whatsoever. Mike could feel tears, the very emotions he thought were banished when he
was transformed, and held them back with immense difficulty.
What could he do now? He clutched at Micky's hand and let his thoughts envelop and merge with his growing despair. Hope was fading into the distance again, fading as quickly as Micky was, soon it seemed like there was nothing but darkness, for Mike and for Micky.
~~~
Davy paced the floor nervously. He glanced occasionally at Peter, who was trying to relieve his headache. "Man, I hope it worked.” Was all Davy could say, trying to come to terms with what he had been forced to do. "I didn't want to do it, Pete, not to Micky..."
"I know Davy.” Came Peter's meager response.
"But it was the only way...the only way.” Davy wiped his brow and tried to focus his eyes.
"Who...who told you anyway?"
"I read it in a book. The only way to defeat the prince of darkness is to destroy his weakness...Mike's weakness was Micky. Micky was half-mortal, so there was only one way to kill him, and that was by drowning. He doesn't die - I mean, he couldn't die from wounds, like a gunshot - they heal too quickly."
"Couldn't you have just hid him from Mike?"
"After what he did to you? We could never have kept him captive; he could have easily overpowered us! No...he had to die.” Davy wrung his hands, "It's not like I bloody well wanted to,"
"I know," Peter murmured shakily, "And I'm glad you came...he nearly got me!"
"Thank goodness for baseball, that bat came in handy. I would never have done it if it hadn't been necessary...he didn't die in vain. If we get Mike, think of all the people we'll save."
"I can't believe he did it to me though. Why me?"
"I don't know," Davy wandered over to where Peter was sitting in the rotten old armchair, "But it's over now.” He tried to muster a smile, but couldn't.
~~~
The dawn came too quickly for the world, which wished that the night would return. There was a feeling of laziness in the air, a general feeling of sleepiness. It was Sunday. Micky yawned and opened his eyes and was confronted with a wall of darkness. He continued staring ahead of him, trying to realize what was happening. Was that wall breathing? Why did he feel so much warmth when he was so cold? Where was he? He blinked and tried to think where he was, where he had been. Nothing. He remembered Peter, Peter's blood, that taste, that scent, the feeling that still lingered in his mouth. But he couldn't remember the death, what happened?
He shifted position and felt so many textures against his little body. There was harshness and softness, and he felt them all at once. There seemed to be silence, except the odd sound of birds singing. Where the hell was he? He shifted again, this time a lot further away from the wall that he was face to face with. Now he could see that the wall was made of a black fabric and seemed to move to a
regular rhythm. He shuffled further away and all his confusion seemed to vanish.
He gave a small smile as he raised a wistful hand and traced along Mike's jawbone. Mike didn't move; he was lost to the world in a satisfying sleep. Micky felt those textures again and studied his situation. It didn't take him long to realize that he was naked, and was engulfed in an old quilt, which had the abundant smell of Mike. Mike was nestled beside him, still fully clothed and had a lazy arm draped over Micky's hips. Micky moved back to his original position, nose pressed up against Mike's drowsy chest.
Micky looked up and tried to figure out where they were. It wasn't the pad. He looked down towards the end of the bed they were on and saw two car seats and the dashboard of a car. In his sleepy mind it took him a while to work out what that meant, and then he noticed the small curtains disguising the tiny windows, and came to the conclusion that they were in a camper van. He didn't need or want to
question why, as long as he was in Mike's arms he knew he was safe.
Hours past and Micky only wished they would last longer. Mike was certainly tired, he hadn't moved once, just continued that regular rhythm of breathing, slow and steady. Finally, Micky met the urge to raise his slumbering partner and promptly pressed his lips against Mike's. Mike's eyes flashed open with the speed of light and met the ebony gaze of Micky.
The Texan yawned, flashing two perfect rows of ivory, and tightened his grip of Micky's hips. "Are you ok now?” He whispered in Micky's ear.
"I'm not sure," The drummer replied truthfully, "I can't remember what happened."
"I nearly lost you," And with that, there was no more space to talk, or even breathe. Mike's lips locked on his companion's, and found no resistance. Micky gave himself up to Mike and wrapped an arm around the prince's neck, pulling him closer. He felt so many feelings, so many textures, and so many emotions. Mike's fingers trailed up his spine, tangled in his curls and tilted his head further, completing the best kiss in the world. When they had finished, Micky was breathless with awe and fulfillment.
Micky's fingers found Mike's raven hair and clutched at it. His eyes found Mike's once again and he gave his best smile, the one he reserved only for Mike. Mike smiled back, reflecting a simple joy and pulled Micky closer still. "You attempted Peter didn't you?” He murmured in his low drawl.
Micky nodded, worried that he would be scolded for doing so.
"Davy got to you before you could finish.” Mike told him firmly, burying his head in the curve between Micky's head and shoulder. Micky gave a quiet moan that died in his throat, but it reminded him of how aroused he was. He heard a quiet laugh from Mike and moved instinctively. His fingers were removed from Mike's hair and worked towards his navel, unbuttoning his shirt as he went. Meanwhile, Mike blew seductively in his ear, nibbling occasionally, making the simplest of jobs almost impossible for Micky. His fingers seemed to entwine with the fabric and he grew more and more frustrated, and aroused. Soon he had removed the shirt, but he gave up at trying to undo Mike's trousers, he was too flustered. The Texan did it himself, and snuggled up to Micky again, skin against skin, bones against bones in some kind of destiny. This was meant to be.
Micky knew he was a fool if he believed he had any power over the prince and so allowed himself to be pushed on his back and smothered with bites and kisses. He could feel two especially sharp points in Mike's bites, knowing that when a vampire was aroused, his fangs would appear. He could feel every muscle in Mike's body, felt them tense up as he tried to be gentle. Micky moaned again, but it felt like he was in a parallel universe, as if it wasn't him there, and he was just watching this happening from the sidelines. Micky winced slightly as he felt a sharp pain in his side and felt the feeling of losing blood.
Mike drank a little teasingly and then looked back into Micky's eyes, commanding him into vulnerability. Micky felt an icy hand stroke past his groin and he gasped, how could something so deadly feel so good? He could see Mike's hunger, his anxiety and he smiled, he had done that. The prince's body stretched out across his own lean frame, and he felt Mike's hardness, felt his passion. Micky followed his natural instincts, as any other virgin does and parted his legs, while gently wrapping his arms around Mike's shoulders, pulling him down. "Steady.” Micky gasped anxiously as he awaited the inevitable. He closed his eyes and rested his head back as he felt a sensation he had never imagined. It was a supreme feeling of power, shooting through him, making him cry out. Mike didn't stop to ask if he was ok, just continued and Micky understood, it didn't matter what he thought, he belonged to Mike now. At first he felt an intense pain running through him but that soon began to melt and he felt Mike's ragged breath beat down on his bare skin. It was almost like breaking through a kind of barrier of pain, once through, there was another intense feeling, that of pleasure. Micky moaned for all he was worth as an uncontrollable feeling of pleasure surged from beneath and he squeezed his eyes shut as the motions grew faster, and faster. Every movement seemed amplified and he couldn't breathe with all the overwhelming feelings. Finally he felt the thrusts peak at their strongest and he was lost. Micky came explosively, his fingers digging into the bare flesh of Mike's shoulders, pulling the Texan with him and the prince came, growling with pleasure.
Both lay in a shared perplexed state, their minds disconnected from their weary bodies. Micky lay where he was, his body still beneath Mike's, not daring to move unless told to do so. He knew he had been used, his naivety exploited, but he felt wonderfully wanted despite it. There were a few moments of reflection and then movement once again. The prince raised his aching body and dressed himself,
before sliding off of the end of the bed and sitting himself in the driver's seat at the end. Still no words had been spoken.
Micky's body felt broken, as if it had lost all innocence it ever possessed. He stared at Mike's cold back and realized a new game had started. He had two choices. If he decided that he had been used and just left, everything would end, and he would probably end up as Mike's next meal. If he went to Mike, he would be accepting his role as a permissive slave, prepared to do anything Mike said. Micky didn't think twice. He found the clothes laid out ready for him, and almost slid into them, before crawling down the bed and wedging himself between the driver and passenger seats. No reaction from the prince, who was looking blankly at the steering wheel. Micky had to prove his decision. The drummer gazed dreamily for a few more moments before slinking forward and sliding between Mike and the steering
wheel, straddling Mike's lap. Mike's eyes rose slowly and met Micky's in a gaze that was unreadable. Was he relieved? Was he smirking? Was he loving? Micky couldn't tell. All he knew was that there was no turning back now.
CHAPTER SIX
Davy wandered into the pad, bleary eyed and worried. He breathed in the dust, which had gathered over the past two days and looked around. Silence. It was as if the pad had never been lived in. But there was something in the back of his mind, screaming out for him to stop. Davy hesitated; he should just turn around and come back when it's daylight. No, that's stupid. Mike couldn't hurt him, not when he didn't have Micky; he was as helpless as a puppy now. Davy sighed and struggled to find the light switch in the dark. The light blinded him for a few seconds and then he stalled, his mouth unhinged and his heart stopped.
"Evening David," Mike smiled, running a brisk hand through his coal like hair.
"Hey...hey Mike," Davy turned to run but found the front door strangely jammed. His heart began to pound and he broke into a sweat. "Fucking door," He hissed under his breath before finally giving up.
He stood perfectly still, terror pumping in his veins. He felt a familiar icy hand and he turned to meet those eyes, those demonic eyes. "Please, please don't hurt me Mike.” Davy was bear the point of sobbing in his terror, he didn't think twice about begging.
"What?” Mike smirked, "Why would I want to hurt you? All you did was try and kill my lover."
Davy stared at him with frozen eyes.
"Yes, that's right...lover," Mike answered his unspoken questions. Davy shook his head, tears falling down his cheeks as the dams of stubbornness broke.
"I'm so sorry."
"It doesn't matter now," Mike smiled, dragging Davy to the couch by an impressive grip of the Englishman's throat.
Davy was thrown on the couch and he looked up with pitiful eyes. Mike grinned at him, eyes of hate glared at him and Davy felt like he was the size of a mouse beneath a monstrous hellish cat. Then he heard a gust of wind and he heard the back door creak just a bit. Davy bit his lip, averted his eyes from the Prince, and swallowed hard. He left out a quick squeak of terror as he leapt up the back of the couch and bounded for the door. His mind bounced somersaults as he rejoiced at making it to the door, only to find yet another body there.
A steely hand pushed against his chest and he was forced back into the light of the living room. Micky smiled, but it was a smile laced with evil. "Micky!" Davy squealed at seeing his old friend, "But you're dead!"
Micky merely shook his head with a smile and glided after him, trapping Davy between himself and the prince.
Davy scanned for another escape and saw a sight that made his heart sink into his boots and his tears flow once again. He gazed at his reflection and saw that he was the only one in the mirror. He could feel Micky standing directly in front of him, but he was nowhere to be seen in their mirrored world.
"Mick...you're."
"Complete?” The prince interrupted, receiving a beam of joy from his apprentice.
"NO!” Davy screamed, shaking Micky by the shoulders, then he stopped as he was hit by a dawning realization, "If you're...that means Peter is..."
He hung his head and the tears flowed again. He was so wracked by his tears, he didn't hear Mike come up behind him, didn't feel the fingers slide up his throat.
"It's all over now," Mike whispered in his ear as he sank his teeth into the warm flesh.
Davy glanced up as his breath hitched in his throat. The last he saw was Micky's eyes, dark yet still caring. Those eyes had a hint of warmth left, the warmth that not even pure evil could destroy, maybe there was hope left for the doomed world. But Davy couldn't continue his thoughts. Images of Peter, his family, his friends plunged through his head and then there was silence apart from a small murmur that escaped Micky's lips. "Goodbye Davy."
Back
to Index
