MALEDICTION, PART ONE

Original poster: _alicesprings

Title: Malediction
Written By: adrtylilsecret
Timeline: Season 1
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Mild violence, vampire fic
Summary: If Brian were a vampire, Season 1 of QaF might have gone something like this...
Author Notes: Praize'n'worship for my beta and a thousand thanks :)
Inspired By Icons:

"Every angel is terrifying."
Rainer Maria Rilke


Part One


Coming. A rush. Sudden. It wasn't the mind-blowing orgasm Brian Kinney was hoping for when he'd dragged the trick from the dance floor to the back room, fingers hooked in the waistband of the man's pants, a confident grin on his face. Now, head thrown back against the wall, his groan was almost more agonized than anything else as he felt his heart flail wildly, the cold sweat breaking out on his face feeling almost warm as it misted his even colder skin. Ten minutes, he'd promised Michael, tops. It hadn't been two minutes, but he wasn't waiting any longer. He was starving, almost faint.

He reached for the man kneeling in front of him, hands curled around a head of soft brown hair, and dragged him to his feet, turning so the trick was pinned between the wall and his body, facing Brian and sufficiently shielded from view in the dark cavern of the back room. The man panted as Brian pried open the fly of his chinos and shoved a hand inside. Brian wrapped his fingers around the swollen cock and licked at a trace of his own come, caught in the corner of the trick's mouth. He curved one hand around the back of the man's neck while his other started a stroking motion that elicited desperate moans from the trick as Brian pressed even more tightly against his pulsing heat. Brian waited until the trick was close, distracted, not caring about anything besides his impending climax, then he put his lips to the man's ear.

"You won't remember any of this," he whispered.

"Oh fuck—" the man gasped as Brian closed in, sharp incisors finding the vein throbbing under the sweaty skin of the trick's neck quickly as his hand grasped the man's hair, holding him captive as he punctured just slightly, feeling the twin beads of warm blood become rivulets that ran over his probing tongue. The trick jerked against him as he quickly swallowed mouthfuls of the coppery liquid. His hand on the man's cock kept up its rhythmic motion until the body crushed against the wall under his shuddered and he felt come spilling over his fingers, warm and then curiously cool against his quickly-heating skin. The man sagged against him, moaning softly, and his hand slid limply off Brian's shoulder. Enough. Brian withdrew, feeling a dizzying rush of exhilaration and vitality that made the orgasm a few minutes before pale in comparison. He pressed his lips to the man's juglar, closing the tiny punctures under his mouth, halting the flow of blood, and felt the man teeter on the brink of conciousness. He leaned back to look into the trick's face, lightly slapping his cheek.

"Hey," he whispered and the man's eyelids fluttered in response. Brian waited patiently until the eyes focused on his face, full of dazed confusion.

"You'll be fine," Brian said. "You'll go back out. You won't remember any of this, and you won't remember me. Do you understand me?"

The trick blinked, nodding, looking blank and almost narcotized when Brian stepped back carefully, ready to catch him should he fall over. The man stayed upright. Good. Practice made perfect, Brian thought as he gave the man's shoulder an almost affectionate slap before he turned and walked back. Back toward the throbbing bass of the music, the living pulse of Babylon, beckoning him from behind the curtain of link chains. Several hundred years of practice. Amazing – it still felt new every time.


*******


"Well that was quick," Michael said when he caught sight of Brian rushing out the front door of Babylon and down the steps to join the small group assembled on the sidewalk.

"Not when you've had as much practice as he's had," Ted cut in, not realizing the snide comment echoed Brian's own thoughts, but in ways Ted never imagined or suspected.

"I got bored," Brian said curtly. Emmett chirped some remark about the tedium of getting ones' dick sucked, but Brian was only half listening as he tossed his jacket into the open window of the jeep and reached for the keys. Michael said something about the trick looking pretty hot to him.

"Well anybody'd look hot to you," Brian shot back. If Michael knew, he thought. If any of them knew. Tedious – never, not anticipating the reward. An almost grueling delay – often. Sex was never the main event for Brian, never the thing he actually sought out and ultimately got every time, the hot metallic gush of reviving blood taken from some nameless individual. It was what Brian lived and subsisted on. Sex was the quickest and easiest way, a means to get what he actually needed that raised no suspicions and was pleasurable besides. Nobody questioned his motives or realized what he was in fact doing when his hands and mouth caused the recipient of their ministrations to buck against him, moaning and gasping, their hands clutching desperately until their eyes rolled shut, even when he did it in full view of the entire back room. And sometimes that was necessary, when he was weakened, or too ravenous to bother taking them back to the seclusion of the loft.

He'd learned long ago that it was better not to drain them, to keep them alive and not frighten the populace of entire cities with a litter of young male bodies void of blood, raising suspicions and increasingly uncomfortable questions that ultimately forced him to flee to another place, leaving everything behind. But that also meant feeding more frequently, relying on smaller quantities to sustain him, provided by an endless procession of men. Always young men, always healthy and strong enough to survive an attack they never remembered afterwards. It meant learning to exist for an incredible length of time with a permanent sense of never enough, always slightly hungry, even now.

The vague feeling of emptiness kept his senses acutely sharp though, always poised for alarm even when he was distracted, like those of a sleeping cat. It was behind him – something. Like a flash of warm sunlight in the small of his back, drawing closer, a vital pulse almost like being touched there by a living being, yet not. Startled, his eyes swerved to Michael's face, saw the expression it wore, and he turned to follow his friend's gaze to its source, there, standing under the yellow glow of the streetlight.

Brian stared, his attention completely focused on the young blond man, taking in everything at once; the luminous glow of pale skin, the clear and exuberant vitality that seemed to emanate from the body hidden under shapeless clothing. The kid seemed to feel his riveted stare; blue eyes slid to Brian's face, fixed there and gazed back, seemingly calm. Brian smiled, nostrils flaring slightly, knowing better; even from this distance his acute sense of smell pulled in the kid's clean scent and he felt the taste of inexperience and hopeful apprehension settle on his tongue. His smile widened slightly as he began to make his way over to the young man, everything else forgotten. Brian felt the quick charge of current he realized came from the kid's heart skipping a beat when he realized Brian was closing in on him and that, yes, this was really happening and yes, it was really he who had captured the beautiful and enigmatic stranger's interest. He tensed, drawing himself up slightly as Brian stepped up close enough to touch.

"How's it going?" Brian said. "Had a busy night?"



Part Two


Brian was livid. At himself, at the kid...Justin. Not really a kid, certainly old enough to know better than to traipse off, leaving the loft door unlocked and the alarm disabled. After everything that had happened in the last weeks, such carelessness, practically inviting burglars inside the expensively furnished space. They'd helped themselves to everything that could possibly be carried out and fit into the freight elevator. Brian discovered the catastrophe when he arrived home with a trick, famished, impatient to get the man behind closed doors and close enough to feed for the first time that day – had almost gone through with it in spite of the discovery, and would have if his fury hadn't overridden his hunger.

He'd regretted letting Justin stay with him in the spacious loft on more than one occasion, but this was the last straw, and he'd finally kicked the kid out while Michael hovered alongside, worried it would come to blows, but it hadn't. Not that he hadn't been tempted. He'd gritted his teeth while the authorities surveyed the damage and asked their questions, the warm scent of their blood filling his nostrils and reminding him it was long past time and that he was famished. Ravenous. Now he headed out, the trick he'd brought to the loft already long gone, forcing him to start all over for the second time that day. Not that he ever had difficulty finding a willing subject, but he was already weakened and knew he wouldn't make it back to seclusion, he would have to feed there, on the spot, wherever he found the next best man.

Brian felt a wave of hunger so strong it was almost nauseating, and it was all that kid's fault. He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to order his thoughts and improvise a new plan. He hated to improvise, especially when he was this starved and impulses fought to gain the upper hand over rationale. These were situations where things could get sloppy and dangerous, and happen in places that put him at risk. Where would be the safest place to go, to do it? Think. Think, Brian... On instinct, he crossed the street and headed for Babylon, reliable hunting grounds every day of the week – if a new pretty face couldn't be found there this early in the evening, he'd find someone less desirable than he normally picked, and fast, a repeat if necessary, even if feeding from the same human more than once carried a slight risk, as he'd discovered when he began feeding this way. Keeping them alive.

Too long ago to calculate off-hand, and almost too late to ward off impending trouble and complications, he'd realized that repeat feedings from one human, which had seemed so convenient, had instead put him in danger. He found himself growing increasingly attached to the man in question, even to the point of being tempted to convert him so as not to lose him to mortality, something he'd sworn never to do. Never to curse another human with immortality that seemed so desirable when it was unattainable, and once obtained turned out to be an eternal hell of insatiable cravings, restlessness, constant brutality and meaningless emptiness.

He'd also discovered that, despite being commanded and influenced to forget, the man was able to remember more, and more often. Suspicions gave way to railing accusations, then certainty and veiled threats to expose Brian and find a way to reveal his activities and provide evidence that would support his claims. Brian had finally overpowered and drained the man, intent on saving himself. Then, when the finality of it all sank in and he'd let the familiar and strangely cold body slide out of his arms and hit the floor with a heavy thud, he'd wished he hadn't. And he'd sworn he'd never, ever, do it again.

Brian lit a cigarette and exhaled noisily. So why was he doing it again? Justin. The same mistake and he was repeating it after all this time, worse – knowingly taking a risk. Being compelled to take it, not thinking, not even wanting to think when the kid showed up with his uncanny ability to track Brian down when he was at his weakest. Needy, empty and esurient. Choosing that moment to slither against him unafraid, to wrap his cold body in a warm embrace like a mantle of silky skin and heated flesh, offering himself, tilting his head back to whisper "Please..." in his ear.

It seemed to be a string of slip-ups on his part, and Brian suspected that taking Justin to the loft the night he'd spotted him under the street light had already been the first mistake. Everything about that night had been so intriguingly different from everything he remembered that it fired off a whole series of mishaps. Now the kid was an almost permanent presence in the loft, a constantly avaliable temptation that he'd given in to repeatedly, more times than he wanted to count.

It hadn't just been because the kid had turned out to be a virgin that first night. That discovery should have warned Brian, but he'd gone ahead anyway, made something more of it than the anonymous, frantic rush it'd always been with the other, more experienced and self-assured tricks. He'd actually talked with the kid and the things he'd heard him say, absurd things babbled in nervous agitation, trying so bravely to make an impression, had made Brian smile and had touched him in places he'd been sure were vaulted forever. He flicked his cigarette into the gutter, exhaling the last of the smoke. The kid. Justin. Of course he'd remembered his name, remembered the first time he'd heard it.

He'd set his own craving for sustenance and impatience to get on with it aside and drawn it out, taken more time with Justin than he should have; but he'd luxuriated in the feeling of Justin's incredibly soft skin under his fingertips, exhilarated by the knowledge that he was the first one being allowed to touch him that way. He discovered he didn't want to rush ahead eventually, kissing and licking the velvety skin and leaving it unbroken, too engrossed in Justin's unjaded responsiveness and intense pleasure to stop. When he'd penetrated Justin and it had caused him pain, he held back, kissing him again and again, at first to distract him and then it had been Justin kissing him, grabbing at his hair and sucking at his lips, filling his mouth with sweet warm breath and ecstatic moans at the overwhelming sensations Brian was creating.

Finally, Brian had let his lips go to Justin's throat, immediately finding the place where a river of blood rushed and pulsed just under the skin, and he'd penetrated him there too, flooding his mouth with the salty sweetness. And instead of struggling and voicing futile protests like others before him, Justin wrapped his arms around Brian's neck and pulled him even closer, throwing his head back and moaning yes, yes, coming almost instantly as Brian's teeth sank deeper. Brian groaned, the heavy rush of blood almost choking him as he came, making him gasp for air and bringing him back to his senses before he gave in to the impulse to pin the kid down and keep swallowing, drain him until there was nothing left, to take all of him.

He'd drawn back, gasping. "Justin—"

The kid's eyes were closed, face even paler than before, but his mouth quirked in a soft smile. "Mmm?"

"You won't remember any of this, Justin."

Brian settled back on the pillows, let his breathing slow and closed his eyes as he felt the warmth he always felt after feeding spread through him, making him feel heavy and almost drugged. He was almost asleep when he felt Justin curl against him, his arm over Brian's chest, face pressed against his neck. Brian drifted into warmth and sleep, into dreams.

A freaky dream that felt like resurfacing into conciousness. Justin's voice whispering in his ear sounded almost real and un-dreamlike. "Brian...yes I will. You told me to always remember this...so that no matter who I'm with..."

Brian slept, his attention fading away even as he heard the words.

The next morning, Brian woke up irritated at finding Justin already awake, lying next to him, nestled close in the huge bed. Irritated that the kid had been watching him sleep. Irritated at his jabbering. Irritated that he was there at all. He'd brushed off Justin's advances and deflated him by letting him think Brian had forgotten even his name, and finally he'd given up and asked to use the shower.

Brian followed him into the bathroom a few minutes later, this time irritated that Justin was taking so long, knowing they were running late as it was. He entered the bathroom and found him there, naked and glistening under the spray. Brian paused and his mood and intention to kick the kid out and claim the shower stall for himself evanesced like the vapor drifting over the glass enclosure. Instead he'd joined Justin inside.

The sandalwood scent of the soap drifted into his nostrils as he smoothed the expensive lather over Justin's sleek skin, trying to keep his mind on the unaccustomed stream of babble and his own answers; some mindless chatter about lesbians, child-rearing, spankings. He was hard. When the fuck had that happened? Justin's mouth dropped open and he grinned.

"You up for one more?" Brian heard himself ask.

He'd almost shoved Justin against the glass wall, pressing close, fingers gliding over warm, slick skin, pushing inside. Justin curved back against him, fingers scrabbling for purchase on the wet, slippery surface he was flattened against, until Brian's hands closed around his chest and stomach, pulling him back to lean against him. Brian squeezed his eyes shut, feeling the heavy thud of Justin's pulse under his hands, his own blood rushing in his ears, tempting him, as he thrust into Justin again and again. He wouldn't, he told himself.

Justin's head fell back on Brian's shoulder, chest heaving and moaning his name, and Brian realized the mark that was still visible from last night was only inches away from his mouth. Justin half twisted, turning his face back, bringing his lips closer to Brian's ear.

"Yes," he'd whispered, "yes."

He lifted his arm and flattened his hand against the back of Brian's head, pulling him forward. "Brian...do it."

Brian kissed the mark he'd left on Justin's neck and the kid tilted his face upwards, whispering to him again. Brian bared his teeth. Bit down hard.

It went on, and by now Brian suspected it was close to getting completely out of hand. Justin followed him, always there, always offering himself, constantly finding new ways to draw Brian in. Pulling off his shirt and dancing next to him at Babylon just when he was deciding which of the two tricks he would drag to the back room to feed on first, and which he might be able to save for later. And he needed a moment to recover from the surprise when both of the men deserted him and closed in on Justin, and another moment to recover from the sudden wave of angry jealousy that rose up from his stomach and blazed in his throat, only to realize the reaction wasn't about the tricks. It was about the kid, squeezed between the two men on the dancefloor, writhing against them both in lascivious abandon, naked flesh that Brian remembered so well glowing under the strobe lights. He pushed the tricks away from Justin and pulled him close, hands making contact on the silky skin of his back and stomach, gliding smoothly on a light film of perspiration that made him seem misted with dew.

"I know what you're doing," Brian told him. Justin laughed, wrapping his arms around Brian's neck as he felt himself being lifted off the ground in a rough embrace. He brought his lips to Brian's ear.

"I know what you're doing too," he whispered. And he had known. And Brian did it again later, back at the loft.

Justin fled his mother and went to Debbie's several days later, and Brian was once again deterred and hindered from feeding by a phone call from Michael, asking him to come and help deal with the situation. And he went. And he knew he'd find Justin upstairs in Michael's room, waiting for him, waiting for him to do it yet again. He'd practically thrown himself at Brian, who pushed him back even while he knew he'd pull him close a second later, kissing and licking at his mouth and then at the faint shadow of a mark on Justin's neck, so faint you only saw it if you knew it was there and where to look for it.

Justin dropped to his knees, quickly popping the buttons on Brian's jeans, decimating the remnants of Brian's resolve as easily and as quickly as the man's cock slid down his throat. He watched, transfixed, then pushed Justin back and hauled him on top of Michael's bed, leaning over him and kissing his face, his lips, letting his mouth brush over his ears and wander down to his throat.

Justin's hands grasped Brian's shoulders, stopping him. "No. Wait. They'll see...not there"

He gently pushed Brian off the mattress and the rumpled bedspread until Brian knelt at the side of the bed. Justin wriggled over and upwards on his back until his shoulders were at the edge of the mattress and his head was tilted back, hanging upside-down over its edge. He reached for Brian's cock again, swallowing him deeper than before, mouth and throat aligned, hands reaching back to curve around Brian's ass, pulling him forward even further and then drawing him back. He let go when he felt Brian start to move of his own accord, hesitantly at first and then faster and deeper. Justin pushed a sleeve of his sweatshirt to his elbow and raised his hand to Brian's face, cupping his cheek, letting the inside of his wrist graze Brian's lips and then press against them.

Brian closed his eyes, feeling the pulse under the smooth skin against his mouth. "Justin..."

Justin moaned, fingers caressing Brian's face. Brian brought up one hand to grasp Justin's arm, and then the other and, after a brief moment of hesitation, carefully bit down on the soft skin, puncturing the inside of Justin's wrist. He groaned as the slick warm liquid immediately beaded around his incisors and then trickled freely from Justin's veins and over his lips as he probed the tiny holes with his tongue, sucking greedily as he thrust harder into Justin's mouth and throat. He swallowed again and again, dizzy from the overwhelming sensations coursing through him, electrifying warmth, the taste of copper and salt flooding his mouth, the tight sliding and pulling wet heat wrapped around his cock. He was coming and he wrenched his lips from Justin's wrist with a groan, pulling back, afraid he would choke Justin with his come even as he felt it being swallowed down his throat. Panting, he collapsed forward, face pressed against the firm plane of Justin's stomach, grateful for the heavy pulse he sensed there.

Brian moved back, sliding both hands under Justin's shoulders and easing him over so he lay flat on the mattress, pale, eyes closed, his breath stuttering. Brian watched him, fingers caressing his face.

"Justin," he said, and repeated the name again when there was no response. This time Justin sighed and turned his face into Brian's hand, skin cold against his palm.

"Just a minute," he mumbled. "I'll be okay."

Brian rubbed his eyes, slowly exhaling a sigh of relief. "So what the fuck do you think you're doing? Why are you doing this?"

"Cuz I can," Justin said. His eyes blinked open, clearing, watching Brian's face.

"That's not an answer. You're fucking crazy if you ask me, and I want it to stop."

"Brian Kinney gives a shit. I knew it."

"Fuck you."

Justin had laughed then, touching his fingertips to Brian's face, undaunted when the man jerked back. "I am so on to you, Brian, when are you ever going to believe me?"

Now Brian stalked through the flashing, thumping main area of Babylon, eyes roaming as he headed straight for the back room. The place was still relatively empty and he knew it would take at least two more hours before the rooms would be crowded. It didn't make any difference, he thought as he swatted at the curtain of chains sectioning off the way to the back room, sending several of the heavy strands crashing into the wall. There was no more time to pick and choose or to make idle chit-chat. The back room was almost empty, but he sensed the warmth of a single presence from the back, heading toward the exit, and moved forward quickly to cut the man off, whoever it would turn out to be. He saw the lone figure in the shadows, and as the man moved forward, Brian could make out his features in the dull light from one of the muted bulbs sparsely lining the wall. Brian grinned and his outstretched arm caught the man around the waist, whirling him around and pulling him back into the shadows, a look of surprise on the familiar face.

"Hey Todd," Brian growled. "How's it going?"



Part Three


Brian knew it was only a temporary time of respite from all the aggravation and upheaval, and that it was already over the same evening – knew the minute he spotted Daphne heading in his direction at Woody's. The news that Justin had run away as far as New York City didn't disturb Brian in the least; disturbing and irritating was the fact that it wasn't news to him, not even the cute little detail about how Justin had funded the trip. Throughout the entire day, Brian found himself distracted again and again, a corner of his mind preoccupied with an awareness of Justin's whereabouts and actions. Brian discovered when he focused on that awareness, his mind was suddenly flooded with images and sounds, so clear he could virtually watch the kid. It was irritating and disturbing, all the more so because it was uninvited and unintentional. Brian knew he had a vast amount of knowledge about, and experience with, these sorts of things. He'd spent centuries discovering and sophisticating a number of supernatural abilities, but all that hadn't prepared him for this. It was an unaccustomed invasion and one he didn't really want to examine in depth.

When Debbie confronted him later and practically ordered him to find Justin and bring him back, Brian wasn't surprised. He'd figured it would come to that eventually. Still, he made a show of protesting and refusing at first, after all there was no rush and no reason to worry; right at the moment he knew the kid was safe and sound, holed away in a ritzy hotel suite, ordering everything that struck his fancy from the menu and then some. Watching television. Pacing up and down. Thinking about Brian and then jerking off. Waiting for him and wondering how long it'd take for him to get there, fretting about just how furious he'd be when he did.

Brian couldn't help but grin when the image of Justin's worried little face resurfaced in his conciousness, blue eyes fixed to the ceiling while he mentally rehearsed what he'd say and all the possible scenarios that might take place. It was almost funny, and Brian was tempted to stall a couple of days and just let the kid stew for a while. At the same time he was forced to admit that the whole episode was the most recent in a whole series of events where Justin had unwittingly impressed him, even fascinated him, by how he seemed to plow ahead undaunted, more than intelligent enough to anticipate the obstacles in his path but never even slowing down or faltering, more fearless and stronger than Brian would ever have given him credit for. Things Justin did that seemed rash were actually creatively and intelligently planned out, taking every detail of the situation into consideration in a matter of seconds. Brian realized that when he found out Justin had taken his credit card knowing it would virtually be a homing device and the most efficient way to find out if he'd come after him. Not that Brian needed the calls he'd made to find out where the card was being used, but he'd made them anyway, actually glad the kid was covering his ass in a way; he could find him just as quickly but without having to explain how he'd done so. You almost had to admire the little shit, Brian thought as he pounded on the door of the hotel suite. But as for explanations, he was determined to get some today, determined to put a stop to this circus before the little fucker ended up running his life.

The door finally swung open. Brian glowered at Justin as he leaned against the door frame, taking stock of the scene he'd so far only visualized and was now actually seeing: Justin, dressed in one of the hotel's fluffy white robes, clean and rested, happily munching a mouthful of food, not even looking surprised to see him. Brian tried to remember the last time he'd felt this worn out, grimy and hungry. Motherfucking little bothersome piece of shit, he thought to himself, just wait. The door crashed into the wall and Justin was shoved aside as Brian stalked into the suite.

The impertinent little fucker barely blinked. "You wanna come in?"


*******


Later...

"I'm putting an end to this, Justin," Brian growled. Justin's legs slipped from his shoulders as he shoved forward roughly.

"Guh! Oh fuck...oh fuck..."

"Justin!"

"What? What?" Huffing.

Brian drew back and pushed forward again. And pushed. "This is stopping."

"Not *now*. You're hurting me, Brian. Christ –"

Brian let go of Justin's legs and let them slide to the mattress on either side of him. He grabbed Justin's wrists, pinning his hands flat on the pillow above his head, stopped moving and lowered his face so that it was inches over Justin's. "That's not what I mean and you know it. I want an explanation. I want you to cut this shit out that you're doing."

"Brian—"

"Cut it out, Justin." Brian withdrew and pushed into him again until he was gasping, and stopped. "I want an explanation. I'm sick of all this shit."

"Jesus, Brian – fuck me." Justin was struggling but Brian's hands gripped his wrists like a vise, and he flattened himself against Justin's heaving chest.

His lips brushed Justin's face. "No. No more of this bullshit. Or I'll stop right now."

"Bastard," Justin hissed.

Brian bit back a smile and whispered in his ear. "You'll explain yourself. Or I really will stop."

"I fucking hate you."

"Oh yeah? I know. I fucking don't care." Brian raised up and stared into the narrowed blue eyes watching his face. He slowly pulled back, almost withdrawing, and let go of Justin's hands. He reached down and grasped Justin's cock, thumb lightly brushing over the slit and to the sensitive spot on the underside, spreading the slick moisture collecting there. He watched Justin's eyes lose their intent focus and blink shut, but he kept stroking him, the touch much too light to do anything more than frustrate. Justin breathed in harsh gasps, trying to twist against the weight of Brian's motionless body.

"Justin..."

"Okay – damn it, okay, Brian. Fuck me, I'll tell you, I promise, just—"

Brian grabbed Justin's hands again, pinning them back down as he pushed into him again and again.

"I promise," Justin whispered in his ear, "fuck me, Brian."

It was good enough; Brian fucked the shit out of him.



*******


"You have ten minutes," Brian said, pulling his jeans back on. No response. He stared at Justin, who lay motionless, tangled in the sheets. "Well?"

Justin blinked slowly, avoiding Brian's gaze. "What do you want to know?"

"For one thing, why the fuck you're sticking to me like glue. Why you keep insisting I feed off you, for another. Don't fucking look at me like that, you know exactly what it is I mean."

"Because I love you."

"Wrong answer. Not good enough. Give it another go."

"Why isn't that good enough? It's true! Just because you—"

"I said ten minutes, and I'm not wasting that time arguing, Justin."

Justin sighed, seeming to deflate a little. "Okay. Okay, fine. I do love you, I really do. I also want to be like you. That's the main reason I always wanted you to...feed off me, like you called it. Because I was hoping—"

"Wait a sec, hold on. What does 'be like you' mean? Specify. What do you think I am?"

"Well, a vampire. I guess. Aren't you?"

Brian stared at him for a moment, then shook his head with a snorting laugh. He sat down on the bed and rubbed a hand over his face. "A vampire. Justin, there's no such thing. What'd you do, fall asleep watching television last night?"

"You drink blood, you live off it, I know you do. I've watched you, I've heard stuff, from you and from everyone else. Enough stuff to piece it all together. And I know there is such a thing. If you're not a vampire, what are you?"

"Shit, I don't know," Brian said. "Call it what you want, it doesn't matter anyway. So you figured what, if you let me feed off you and live off you, sooner or later you'd be like me? Is that it? Why the fuck would you want to be like me?"

"Because I love you," Justin repeated. "I keep saying that, it's true. I want to be with you, you know? Not like now, I mean really be with you. Be just like you. Aren't you, like, totally different? I mean you live forever for one thing, right? You can do stuff other people can't do, and I know you can make me just like you. Right?"

"Justin..." Brian rubbed his eyes, taking a moment to think. "Are you really gonna make me say that hokey old line 'you don't know what you're asking for'? Because you don't. You have no fucking clue. Let me set the record straight – I don't believe in love. I don't live forever. I have lived and will live a very, very long time. But I won't live forever. I wouldn't want to. I didn't even want to have to live this long. As for me making you a...vampire, I won't. Shut up," he said when Justin opened his mouth to protest. "I can't do it, and I wouldn't if I could. Okay? So you can stop this bullshit right now, we don't even have to discuss it. You will stop."

"You do love me. You do."

"Fuck you."

"You do. I know you do. And you'd just let me fucking die? You'd just watch me get old and sick and let me die?"

"Yeah. Yeah I would, Justin. We're not a couple now, what makes you think we'd be one then? Or that I'd want to be one then? Look, people don't stay together for life even in a normal lifespan. So how can you conclude they'd be able to stay together any longer if they lived ten times or a thousand times as long? Love is bullshit, Justin. All you'd end up with is a hell of a lot more time alone, realizing I was right all along. And that's just the easy stuff for someone like me. You want that? So, yeah, I'd fucking rather watch you grow old, and die."

Justin flopped back on the mattress, staring at the ceiling. "I don't believe this. No, I don't. You wouldn't do that. Listen, do you know there are people who wish I'd die right now, just because? You understand that, right? Like this kid at school – he'd kill me if he could, and there are lots of people like him, and you'd just let him? I don't believe it."

"I know assholes like that. They're not even worth thinking about. Fuck them."

Justin was silent, leaning up to study Brian's face. "I don't want to fuck them, Brian. I'd kill them if I could. We could. We could do that; wouldn't the world be a better place?"

Brian laughed so hard he fell back on the mattress. "Like a couple of gay vampire vigilantes? Are you out of your fucking mind? You sound worse than one of Mikey's comic books. And I mean, what the fuck? What gives you the right to decide who gets to live or die, or let me rephrase that: Who died and made you God?"

Justin smiled sweetly, then he pushed the sheets back and crawled to where Brian was half-sitting, half-lying. He stared down at him for a moment then leaned down, puncutating his words with soft kisses to Brian's face and neck. "But doesn't it get boring? And what about sex, isn't that even better? How would that be if I were like you?" He leaned down to whisper in Brian's ear. "We could even do it bareback."

Brian grimaced and got to his feet, shoving Justin aside. "Fuck you. That's crazy – it's all crazy. You're as out of your mind as a bug-chaser – you *are* a bug-chaser. Now you're going to pack up your shit, and we're going home. And that's all that's gonna happen."

Justin smiled again, seeming completely unimpressed by Brian's protests. He scrambled off the bed and pulled Brian into a hug, planted a kiss on his chest and beamed up at him. "I want to be with you. And I want to be like you. And I will be. You'll see."

Part 2.