go for blood

i didn't have it in myself to go with grace

I think I may have to confront the fact that I'm one day going to run out of the stockpile of things I've pre-written and start writing things again.

DAVID

Michael finds him under an overhanging cliff even though the sun isn't out– David doesn't want to even be in the moonlight. He certainly doesn't want to be at Star's.

After Michael, the animal was still howling in his veins, wrenching at his control. Michael's taste on his tongue was sweet and vibrant and David hated it, he hated it, and he felt as if he might drain Michael dry out of pure lack of control over his hunger. He won't forget Michael's blood for a long time, and he wants to wipe his mind clean.

He should have just fed. How long had it been?

He drained someone else, but there's still Michael in his mouth when Michael finds him. Michael is all over. His jacket around David's shoulders and the echoing scent of him from spending all day in Michael's bed and the taste of his blood on David's lips, and his dark curls and the line of his jaw and his bare chest smeared red, filling David's mind.

Michael's blood spilling out and staining his pillow.

David has shrugged off Michael's jacket now, leaving it beside him on the rocks.

Michael brightens when he finds David, as if he's been looking for a while. David tries not to feel anything, but something warm flutters in David anyway. He feels flushed with blood.

Michael looks at him for a moment; David can see the silhouette of him against the moonlit sea in the corner of his eye, not moving for a moment. David wonders what he looks like to Michael.

Pathetic.

In the middle of the night, a vampire's most vibrant hour, lurking under a cliff and staring into the waves, arms around his knees like a little boy. A lost boy.

Then Michael moves, with all the energy-bound gracelessness of a human, and joins him there on the rocks. He doesn't say anything to David, just sits there next to David and watches the sea with him in silence.

Michael's silence feels sorry, and tentative. David only knows this from studying Michael for far longer than he'd care to admit.

Finally, he looks at Michael. He cannot stand not looking at Michael– and Michael is not looking at the ocean, he is looking at David. He's sitting with his legs out and his hands clasped in his lap, his whole body turned towards David just slightly. He looks like a Greek god under the moonlight, with his hair unruly and the strong line of his jaw.

It's funny, David thinks, now he's the tired one with not enough blood.

And they have no one to blame but each other.

Michael has a new jacket, and it doesn't smell like him– above the newness of it, David can barely catch Michael's cologne at all.

"How'd you find me?" David asks finally.

"Just looking," Michael waves a hand around. "Thought you'd be out on the boardwalk."

They're not far from the boardwalk now– occasionally, the screams of people on the rollercoaster reach them on the breeze, but the sounds of the waves wash them away.

Michael blows out a breath, and David looks away, towards the ocean, away from the white bandage wrapped around Michael's throat.

"Are you going to tell me why you're upset about drinking my blood, or do I have to guess?" Michael leans back against the rock behind them, but doesn't take his eyes off David.