cross my heart and hope to die (epic vampire au) part two, 3/3

            When Pete gets back to the loft, he pushes his way through the door (past Mikey and Alicia, almost knocking him down) and runs up the stairs. He’s never moved that fast in his life or death—nothing but a dark blur.

 

            Patrick is gone. The bed is made and his bag is gone and there isn’t even a whiff of Patrick carried on the breeze through the open windows (all of them are open).  There was blood, Patrick’s blood on the floor. It was only a little bit, but still. It was the only area unclean in the room.

 

            Pete’s knees buckled and the next thing he knew he was on the floor and the floor was shaking under the pounding of his fists and the roar of his voice, “DAMN YOU to HELL!!” and other various insults and just growling and roars of frustration—and suddenly there’s Mikey holding his arms behind his back and pinning him to the ground and Alicia with her hand over his mouth.

 

            “What the fuck Pete?” Mikey hissed, “This apartment isn’t built to withstand a temper tantrum, what’s wrong?”

 

            “Your fucking bastard of a brother got him.” Pete snarled, voice nothing more but a low growl against Alicia’s hand as he struggled to break free—sending a glare at Alicia to back off and make Mikey do the same.

 

            Alicia glanced from side to side and took in a deep breath, “Asher told us that you and William were taking him to his house.”

 

            “What?”

 

            “Asher, Victoria.” Alicia snarled the name, “She took him.”

 

            “Gabe was with her, upstairs.” Mikey said, “I can smell him a little, they cleaned up behind themselves . . .”

 

            “Dammit.” She cursed, “I knew something was wrong!”

 

            “Let me go.” Mikey stood up, releasing Pete’s arms and looking over to Alicia, “It’s not your fault.”

 

            “Where did William go?”

 

            “To feed. He couldn’t stand being in a room with Patrick any longer without going to do that, he said.” Alicia said. “We have to go find Patrick.”

 

            Pete turned to Mikey, hopeful, but he stared at the ground—fists clenched. Pete knew what he was thinking about—that Gerard was his brother and he owed him his loyalty. But at the same time, he and Pete were friends.

 

            “Mikey.” Alicia said, softly, and he snapped his head up—looking at her for a long minute. Pete could practically see the gears click into place.

 

            “We’ll both help.” Mikey announced, gliding across the room and sniffing carefully at each of the windows, “Gabe and Vicky T. Maybe someone else? But they never came in.” He paused for a moment, “Why do you think it was Gerard?”

 

            “Why else? He caught me at the pharmacy and told me to keep an eye out on him.” Pete snarled, also sniffing at the window and the door.

 

            Mikey’s lips fell into a grimace, “They wouldn’t have gone to Jersey. We need to go back to the pharmacy and see if we can catch Gerard’s trail. He wouldn’t have bothered to cover it up or take an alternate route. He’s over confident, and will assume we’re behind him.”

 

***

 

            It had been a sleepless day and night later, and they were just catching Gerard’s trail again (they had lost it for the seventh time hours ago. The damned busy city) and Mikey realized where he was. “His old apartment. He watched the attack from the Twin Towers there. He almost killed himself because he couldn’t do anything about it. He hates wars, but he likes battles and challenges” He explained, “He never goes on that side of town anymore, though.”

 

            “Where is it?” Pete snapped.

 

            Mikey told him the address—and almost couldn’t keep up as Pete darted off.

 

            Pete couldn’t help to be so quick to go after Patrick. His mind flashed back to their conversation (that he remembered so clearly) about hurting each other. Patrick had hurt him a hell of a lot, before and now . . . the only way Patrick could hurt him more was by letting himself get killed.

           

            And he isn’t going to let that happen again.

 

            Because this is different in a million ways from Ryan Ross, that was infatuation as in Romeo and Juliet infatuation. Only Pete hadn’t been a very good actor and filled his part and followed the script.

 

            This? What he had with Patrick was stronger than infatuation or lust. It was love and need that Pete hadn’t felt in an obscene amount of years, if ever. Pete couldn’t live with losing that.

 

            If Patrick died, he would die. But dying was difficult for a vampire, suicide harder. So the only option was to get to Patrick in time.

 

***

 

            Pete darted up the steps towards the eighteenth floor extremely quickly. Their scent was here—Gabe, Vicky T, Gerard. He was snarling by the time he broke the door knob to the room the trail ended at. He had promised Mikey and Alicia to wait for them (they were a few minutes behind him, finding William) but Patrick was here.

 

            Vicky T looked up from her magazine where she was sitting on an old couch, and licked her lips slightly. She practically bounded up, “Pete! Gabe! Gerard! Pete’s here.”

 

            She smiled, “You finally found us. Gabe is going to be disappointed you came though.”

 

            Pete narrowed her eyes, “Where is he? Where’s Patrick?”

 

            She sighed a little, “He’s in the other room. What’s so special about him, Pete? You promised all of us you weren’t going to interfere in the lives of humans anymore aside from feeding.”

 

            “He’s different.” Pete snapped, “He’s worth breaking a promise or two for.”

 

            She looked like she was considering for a moment. “I think you shouldn’t have come for him. But you did, and since you did it’s a good thing you came now. Gabe’s getting impatient and Gerard is getting bored.”

 

            And as if on cue, the two of them peaked out from the door. Pete was over to the other side of the room in a flash, snarling and growling—fangs bared and fists curled up. “Let me through.”

 

            Gerard grinned and Gabe frowned.

 

            “He smells nice and he’s very pretty.” Gabe began, “But he isn’t anything special. You should drain him and leave a bit for me, maybe.”

 

            “You better be damned glad that you’re not in my coven anymore, Gabe, Victoria. And I know William isn’t going to take so kindly to this, either.”

 

            Gabe shrugged, languidly, “William likes me, Pete, you know that. He won’t be to harsh.”

 

            Pete growled, “Let me through to him, now.” He went rigid when he heard a cough from behind the door. A wave of relief and panic set over him at the exact same time. He was alive, but he was still sick . . .

 

            Gerard shrugged, “Fine. You found us, you deserve that much.”

 

            “Whether or not we’ll let you leave with him . . .  is another story.” Gabe said, with a casually small grin, “You threaten our secrecy too much, Peter. He has to be turned or killed, one or the other.”

 

            Pete narrowed his eyes, and pushed past both of them as Gabe moved to the side for him to go in.

 

            “Pete!” Patrick looked horrible (well, he was fine)—skin sickly pale, bags under his eyes, and a scratch across his cheek. Pete was next to him, pulling him into his arms, before Patrick could even think about getting up.

 

            “Oh God, Patrick. I’ve been so fucking worried. Are you okay?” Pete asked, relief flooding over his voice.

 

            “Yeah, for the most part.” Patrick said, voice small. “I feel like shit, Pete.” He said, burying into his arms. “I’m sorry, when they came and got me—I couldn’t get to my gun, and they took it away and last night I just got so weak.”

 

            “Don’t do that to yourself.” Pete snapped, “Keeping you safe is my responsibility, now. And I’m not going to fail at that again.”

 

            Patrick coughed and sighed, “Gerard said they’re not going to let me leave here until you’ve turned me. The other one, Gabe I think? He said that if you take too long they’re going to kill me themselves.”

 

            Pete snarled, “I won’t let that happen.”

 

            “Which one?” Patrick asked, feeling so powerless in the situation. There was nothing he could do to help Pete—they had taken away his gun and it wasn’t like he could call on his company any more.

 

            “I won’t let them lay a hand on you, Patrick.”

 

            “But . . .?”

 

            “Patrick . . . what do you want to do about that?” Pete asked, softly. He hadn’t ever really planned on giving Patrick a choice. But now that they were talking about it . . . he thought of the stories he had heard. What might happen if he didn’t have Patrick’s permission? Pete wouldn’t be able to bear letting him slip out of his fingers.

 

            He coughed, and Pete rubbed his back, comfortingly. “I . . . I love you Peter. What I told Gerard was true. If you want it, I’ll give it to you. No matter what it is. And . . . I want to be with you, and I don’t want you to have to restrain yourself around me. I want every bit of you I can have, but there’s so much I can’t have because I’m human.”

 

            “But would you be happy? I know how you feel about how we have to live . . .”

 

            Patrick paused, “I . . . I could feed from animals. It works—there are—it can be done . . .”

 

            “I don’t know that you’d be able to.” Pete said, softly. “It’s incredibly difficult to even be sated with humans in the first few months.”

 

            There was a moment of silence, “I don’t care. I—I’m not even sure if the company was right, anymore. There was all this talk—it was supposed to be science, but—in science are you supposed to starve the predator of prey? It’s not all that different.” Patrick coughed again, and Pete could do nothing more but wait for William to get here and hold Patrick.

 

            He felt so useless.

 

            William got there a few minutes later, and they could hear the yelling from the other room.

 

            “Gabriel. Victoria.” He snarled, growled at the two vampires in his coven. “I don’t know what the hell you were thinking. You should’ve known better than to do that. We explicitly forbid behavior such as this in our coven.”

 

            “We’re doing what’s best for Pete!”

 

            “He’s ruining himself! He doesn’t know what’s best anymore. He’s going to destroy himself and all of us if he keeps associating with humans like he has been!”

 

            William did not reply, but Pete could practically feel his livid glare as he stomped into the room, expression softening considerably when he saw Patrick.

 

            “Damn, kid. You’ve grown on me.” He spat, softly, as he went over to the bed—putting one hand on Patrick’s back. “Pete, if you could detach yourself for a moment?”

 

            Pete uncurled himself from around Patrick and stepped away. “Yeah, sure.”

 

            The taller vampire put his hand on Patrick’s cheek—closed his eyes for a minute, and the cut healed, “Lay down. I need to be able to hear your lungs better.” He instructed. Once Patrick was laying down, William put his head on his chest and listened intently.

 

            He bit his lip.

 

            “This isn’t good.” He said softly.

 

            “What?” Pete asked, quick and sharp.

 

            “There’s a lot of mucus in his lungs—and something else. I can’t tell what it is. I’m not x-ray. Pete . . . This is more than a little cold, now.”

 

            “You can heal it!”

 

            “Not without him aging to ninety by tomorrow morning.”

 

            Pete’s face fell, and in that moment he had never felt more hopeless in his entire life.

 

***

 

            “Pete, I don’t want to—“

 

            “Shhh, shh. Patrick, you’re not going to die. I won’t let you.”

 

            “You’re too stubborn, Petey. You’re not going to do what they say and turn me here, I know it!”

 

            “You don’t worry about anything, Patrick. William and Mikey and Alicia and I will worry about everything. You just rest and eat. We’ll take care of you, ‘Trick. We’ll take care of you.”

 

            “Pete how can I not worry? I might die, if what William says is true! I might have cancer or pneumonia! And I can’t go to the hospital! Pete this is serious! I mean, serious!”

 

            Pete pulled Patrick into a hug, keeping his arms tight around him. “I won’t let shit touch you. You’ll be fine.”

 

            “Your toy is breaking.” Gerard said, from the doorway. Pete was on his feet in front of Gerard, snarling, in seconds. “I think it’s about time you check in on the warrantee or take him back.”

 

            “This is your fault, Way. If you don’t let us leave with him—“

 

            “What? You’ll charge me with kidnapping. Even if you do, Petey dear, they’ll never catch or convict me. I have old, old friends who could do any number of things needed to keep me away from the government and press.”

 

            “I’ll burn the whole motherfucking building down.”

 

            Gerard laughed, “I’ll be able to get out before the spark even ignites.”

 

            Pete growled at him, low and fierce. “I am tired of your shit.”

 

            Gerard smiled politely, quirking his head, “I told you Pete. He’s a threat because of who he worked with and because he knows so much. You have to turn him or we’ll kill him. And we’re getting tired of waiting, maybe two or three more days?”

 

            “Maybe not. You won’t lay one finger on him.” His voice was so low it was like an animal.

 

            The elder vampire shrugged his shoulders, “I think I will if I want too.” Before a second had even passed he was next to the bed, arm around Patrick’s shoulders. “You can’t stop me.”

 

            In a quick blur, Pete slammed Gerard against the floor and punched him multiple times. Gerard snarled and pushed up, spitting out discolored blood, as he aimed a hit at Pete.

 

            “You don’t want to fuck around with me.” Gerard hissed, eyes almost on fire with the fierceness of his rage. “I will make your life a living nightmare.” He punched Pete in the stomach, sending him flying into the wall, a Pete sized imprint left as he peeled himself away.

 

            “Don’t pull your punches, Gerard.” Pete snarled, flying back launching himself at Gerard and pinning him to the floor. Gerard quickly reversed their positions, lunging down for Pete’s throat and tearing at the skin with his fangs and ripping a gash into it

 

            Pete yelled out an exclamation at pain, baring his fangs and gathering his strength to push Gerard off of him, only managing to get him half way off and get his nails (long and claw-like suddenly) into Gerard’s sides.

 

            The others came into the room almost instantly. And in seconds they were darting every which way—William going right next to Pete and Alicia speeding off towards Patrick, pulling him into a corner and blocking him off with her own body. Pete was grateful, Alicia wouldn’t let an innocent get hurt.

 

            Victoria headed in Alicia’s direction, and the other woman snarled, hissed and bared her fangs to her, lip curling up and eyebrows furrowing threateningly. “Just try and touch him.”

 

            Victoria started to snarl back, going closer and poising her hand to strike.

 

            “Vicky! Watch, don’t get into anything.” Gabe snapped, pulling her attention back to where they were each fretting over Pete and Gerard snarling at each other—all of it was happening so fast that Patrick blinked and the room full of people had shifted completely, making room for Gerard and Pete—everyone was a blur of color moving this way and that.

 

            William guided Pete away from Alicia and Patrick’s corner, carefully—blocking them off when they slid that way or pushing Pete away. Gabe was about to jump in when William caught a hit from Gerard and Mikey sent him a hot glare.

 

            “If we jump in to help they won’t ever settle this the right way. You know I’m right so back the fuck off.” He snapped not even moving to put his arm in front of Gabe.

 

            Gabe grinned slightly, put his hands up and stepped back out of the way, “As long as Patrick’s around . . .  I don’t think it’ll ever be over.”

 

            Mikey grimaced, partially realizing it was true, and partly because he didn’t want to believe that. He wasn’t stupid though, Gabe was right.

 

            And then Gerard tore into Pete’s throat again (while it was almost healed back up) and Pete dug his nails into Gerard’s chest—trying to push him back. Pete shouted an exclamation of pain and Gerard grunted and leaned forward to rip the wound open even further.

 

            If there was one sure way to fight a vampire, it was teeth to throat.

 

            “Pete!” Patrick yelled out, distressed, once they slowed down enough for him to see what was happening, “Pete god damn it, no! Get the fuck out of here!” he yelled, coughing but ignoring it—struggling to get past Alicia, “Get the fuck away!”

 

            “Patrick!” Alicia said over her shoulder, as calm as she could—“Don’t make him worry about you, stay calm—you, you’re sick you don’t need to—are you okay, Patrick—are, breathe. Just breathe . . . take in a deep breathe.” She turned around to face him, back against Gerard and everyone else, rubbing comforting circles on his back, trying to get the coughing fit to calm down, “William?!”

 

            William looked back and forth from Pete and Patrick, expression strained. It was easy to see the turmoil on his face—Patrick, who’s mortality, was even more obvious by the minute and Pete, who’s existence was at stake. He bit at his lip and tore off to Pete’s side, snarling at Gerard.

 

            “The first part of the code is that we don’t kill our own unless they directly threaten our secrecy.” William hissed,, “Peter hasn’t done any such thing. Even if Patrick was to tell—he knew about us before!”

 

            “And who would you turn me into?” Gerard asked—hands holding Pete to the wall—both of them were covered in blood, mostly Pete’s.

 

 “Lazzara? Or maybe McCracken, hmm? Your friends might be loyal to you over me or Pete—but they sure as hell won’t want to keep company with you if you kill him for no reason. And if that doesn’t work? There are plenty of other people I can go to. Let Pete the fuck go and let Patrick out of here. Even for you Gerard, this is inhuman.” William snarled loudly—and if Mikey hadn’t moved to stand right next to William then he probably would’ve hit him too.

 

            Gerard glared at William, turning back to Pete and swinging his hand at him again (catching his face with the edges of his nails, thin red marks bursting across his tan skin) snarling, “Don’t you fucking ever try and start a fight with me again. I will not stop next time, no matter who your friends may tell.”

 

            “Gerard.” Mikey said, face grim as he watched his brother pull back, “Go back to Jersey and get some rest. You haven’t been getting enough.”

 

            The elder vampire laughed a little, his composure changing completely, “Yeah Mikes, I guess I haven’t. Maybe next time we see each other it will be under better circumstances. Bye Mikey, Alicia.” And like that he was out of the room.

 

            “Gabe—you and Vicky T get the hell out of here. I don’t want to see you two loitering around right now. Find Travis and bring him here.” William said, before turning his attentions to Pete, “Oh Petey, you shouldn’t have done that.”

 

            “Pete!” Patrick called, trying to get past Alicia (to no avail) who had him, still rubbing circles on his back, just having managed to get him calmed down from the coughing fit. He wasn’t concerned about himself the least bit.

 

            “Bill, damn it I haven’t hurt this much—“

 

            “I know, it’s been a long time.” William whispered, softly, “Come on, sit down—come on, Pete, it’s worse than it feels like it is. Oh God, You’re not allowed to do this ever again.”

 

            “Pete!” Patrick called again, Alicia guiding him carefully over to where Pete was lying on the ground, William kneeling over him, “Oh God.” Patrick fell, to his knees, with a thud. “William—is he gonna be okay?”

 

            “I’m going to make him okay.” William replied, “Mikey—Alicia, he needs blood, soon. Get him something, anything.” He turned back to Pete, “Damn it. You’re such an idiot. You let him provoke you.”

 

            “He was going to hurt Patrick.” Pete croaked back, pitifully, looking up at Patrick and smiling in a pained sort of way, “Are you okay?”

 

            Patrick nodded his head, brows furrowing together and lip trembling almost uncontrollably. “I’m okay, I’m okay. But—Pete, you’re not—“ He started coughing and crying about the same time.

 

            “Patr—“

 

            “Don’t you dare get up Peter Wentz.” William snapped, “It’s just another bout of coughs, he’ll be fine. If you move you might tear something and not be fine. It’s different when we hurt each other—than when we get hurt by human things or nature. You know that.”

 

            “Patrick, you okay?” Pete asked, insistently, reaching a hand out to put on Patrick’s knee, the closest he could get. “I need you to be okay.”

 

            “I’m okay, Peter. I—I can’t do anything to help you, can I? You—you need to—“

 

            William shook his head sharply, cutting Patrick off, “No. He can’t take anything from you now. You’re sick and you’re probably just starting to recover from the last time he bit you. He would kill you if he took anymore, now. And he wouldn’t be able to stop himself. Once he latches on to someone, now, he won’t let go.”

 

            Patrick recalled that first time he saw Pete feed, and he didn’t want to be like that. He didn’t mind dying for Pete—but he didn’t want to be some screaming last-ditch effort meal. But, still, Pete needed . . .

 

            “This is my fault—all of this is my fault. You wouldn’t be hurt if it wasn’t for me, and I should’ve just stayed where I was and I never should’ve come back here. I was stupid and selfish and I knew this would cause trouble for you but I came anyways.”

 

            Pete sighed, “Patrick, I love you. I would’ve gone crazy if you didn’t come back to me. I’m glad you came back.”

 

            And Mikey and Alicia came back—each of them carrying an unconscious person. They sat them down on the bed, and Alicia went over to Patrick and helped him stand up, “You’ll need to be out of the room Patrick.” She whispered to him, helping him out of the room.

 

            William stood up and considered the two bodies for a moment—before picking up the boy and taking him down to Pete. “Be careful with yourself and take it slowly. He won’t go anywhere.” He put the body down and Pete carefully pulled himself up, sinking his teeth into the flesh and drinking.

 

***

 

            “Patrick?” Pete was lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling before he turned onto his side, squirming closer to Patrick to put a protective arm around him. “How are you holding up?”

 

            “Okay I guess.” Patrick whispered, voice weak from exhaustion and hoarse from the incessant cough. “How are you?”

 

            “I’m better.” Patrick turned onto his side, as well and lifted his arm to trace along the lines of the scar where the wound was slowly healing. “It’ll heal slower because it was inflicted by another vampire. There’s some kind of toxin or venom, the only thing that can really affect us . . . there might even be a scar.”

 

            “I just want you to be okay. I don’t care how you turn out as long as you’re okay.”

 

            “Don’t worry, ‘Trick. I’ll be fine.”

 

            “You have to be. You have to be.”

 

            Pete shifted so he was holding Patrick more, and they were silent. Pete was beginning to doze off when Patrick spoke again.

 

            “I don’t think I’m getting any better Peter.” He said, softly.

 

            “Don’t worry, ‘Trick. You’ll be fine, too. I won’t let you not be.”

 

            “Is it worth it trying to keep me human anymore? I’m sick and I’m just getting sicker and Gerard—and . . . all of this. I’m a Doctor, Pete, I know how bad something is. This is bad, I should be in a hospital right now—or at least have some high powered medicine.”

 

            The vampire sighed, and pecked a kiss to Patrick’s cheek, “As soon as I’m fully healed I’ll do it. If I try now I couldn’t promise the results.” Pete paused for a long few moments.

 

            “When I turn you, you’ll be hungry. Very, Very hungry. You’ll need to feed almost immediately, and I don’t think animal blood would ever be able to sate that hunger.” He looked, cautiously, for a response.

 

            Patrick sighed and burrowed into Pete more, carefully. “As long as you’re with me . . .”

 

***

 

            William put his hands, lightly over the healed wounds at Peter’s neck and closed his eyes. After a few moments he spoke, “You’re healed—all the way through everything’s just like it was before. I’ve reduced the amount of scarring as much as I can.”

 

            “Finally. ‘m tired of motherfucking bed rest.” Pete said, stretching out as he stood up. He looked over to Patrick, who was smiling tiredly. Pete knew he hadn’t gotten much sleep.

 

            The taller vampire sighed, and leaned in close to Peter, muttering so low Patrick wouldn’t be able to hear, “He knows how bad it is almost as well as I do. He’s worried and that’s making it worse. You can’t stall much longer, Peter. Once you turn him, though, he’ll be fine.”

 

            “Should I though? I don’t know that he’ll be able to function like the rest of us . . .”

 

            “You promised him, Pete, you promised him. You can break your promises to me or the coven or anyone else, but if you love him anywhere damn near as much as you claim you do—you’ll turn him.” William snapped angrily, “I will not let you go back on this promise.”

 

            Pete sighed, softly, “I figured as much—how much longer--?”

 

            “No, now.” William replied, “You can’t wait much longer. You’ve said it yourself, he’s only human. There’s no telling when he’ll take a turn for the worse.”

 

            William hugged Pete tightly and broke away, going over to Patrick, and sitting on the edge of the bed closest to him. “This isn’t going to be easy for you.” He said, softly, “Pete’ll be there for you, and I’ll be there for you, too. Mikey and Alicia are down stairs, it isn’t an easy transition for anyone—some people don’t even make it through.” He pulled Patrick into a quick embrace and then he left.

 

            Patrick looked over to Pete, an anxious expression on his face, and coughed.

 

            Pete went back over to the bed, and crawled over—kissing Patrick softly, “I love you. Know that, no matter what happens.” He whispered against Patrick’s lips.

 

            “I love you too, Peter.”

 

***

 

            Pete sunk his fangs into Patrick’s throat, hard and deep enough to make Patrick cry out in pain and squeeze Pete’s hands. Pete gave an apologetic squeeze back, and sucked at the wound.

 

            Patrick barred his teeth and scrunched his eyes shut, melting into Pete’s embrace as he started pulling more and more blood from his veins—the tug burning and painful, causing his entire body to feel on fire.

 

            “Hurry, Peter, please hurry.” Patrick whispered, his voice hoarse and obviously pained as he spoke the words.

 

            Pete nodded slightly against Patrick’s throat, sucking at it harder and tugging more at his veins. Patrick’s head fell back and he groaned again, almost whimpering and his grip on Pete’s hand was hard, until it slowly loosened and it was so hard to keep his eyes open.

 

            Pete slipped one of his hands out of Patrick’s grip, and traced over his cheeks and lips softly—dragging it over his features carefully. And he pulled away from Patrick’s throat for one quick moment to kiss him on his lips for a moment, before going back to work.

 

            “I . . . love you.” Patrick whispered, heartbeat slow and almost gone. Pete licked at the wounds one last time, before putting his freehand to his own throat, digging his fingernails into his throat (the other side from where Gerard had injured him) and pulling them out, pulling Patrick up and putting his face to the wound.

 

            “Drink, Patrick . . . Drink.” Pete whispered, hoping this would work out like he remembered—it felt like it had been so much longer than it had been since he had done this.

 

            And he felt something in his stomach turn over when Patrick’s lips began moving against his throat—sucking blood out. Pete almost felt guilty that it didn’t hurt, him being over sated with Patrick’s blood and that from his earlier meal. He was so relieved that Patrick was so desperate—becoming lively again against him and practically wrapping himself around Pete and pushing at him and trying to get a better angle.

 

            When the dull tugging sensation started spreading, it was the most difficult thing to push Patrick away from him. He crashed his mouth against Patrick’s and he was kissing a live wire. They didn’t have to be careful anymore. They could afford to catch fire.

 

 

fin.

if only time flew like a  dove,
god make it fly
faster than i'm falling in love