vampire mike just wants his blood but priest will is very against this, but he will soon feed into it, and let mike get a taste of him, but it will cost him having self hatred for himself and his life, but he wants mike so bad…
i really need to make a fanfic .. sobs (someone motivate me)
love mike's stupid vampire fangs. one day he will sit down with dracula bram stoker and read "'you yourself never loved; you never love !' [...] then the count turned, after looking at [jonathan's] face attentively, and said in a soft whisper:- 'yes, I too can love; you yourselves can tell it from the past.'" and he's gonna have to sit with that for a while
The night came and Will was home alone; Jonathan was working a double and his mom a shift at her second job. He was used to the quiet. The low rumbling of the TV in his bedroom and the sound of cicadas outside always accompanied him throughout the house.
Will was in the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist, wiping the mirror. He took a look at himself for a moment. His hair grew over the summer and he hadn’t been eating much. He looked… He didn’t like how he looked. Something in his appearance made him unsure; one moment he knew exactly who he was, and the next, he no longer recognized the person staring back at him. It was as if the face before him was someone else’s.
He clicked the bathroom light off.
In his room, he changed into his pajamas and hoped to sleep the insecurities away, though it was useless. They chipped at him with each breath he took and, no matter how often it affected him, it always hurt like it was the first time. He just felt all so wrong. In bed he tossed and turned until he couldn’t anymore, covers coming off. Laying still, a pale strip of moonlight lay across his chest. The cicadas sounded louder and the TV, droning. He tried to quell the familiar burn of an oncoming cry tightening his throat.
“I wish,” he whispered, trying to steady his voice, “I wish I had someone. Someone who would like me for me and that’d be okay. Where I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t have to change myself at all. And— and I wish…” He thought of the other day when he went to visit Lucas. Erica had warned him it wasn’t a good time, but he figured it was nothing until he was at Lucas’ bedroom door. It’d been cracked open enough where he could see what Lucas and Max were doing, or beginning to do.
“I wish I had someone,” he started again, closing his eyes, “someone to hold me too. To ki—kiss me. To show me what that feels like.” A flush began to color his face and he bit his lip, feeling strangely conscious under the moonlight. He pictured, faintly, someone drawing him close, whispering that Will was all he would ever need. It was his favorite daydream, and he lingered in it, savoring the quiet promise of relief. Again and again, he replayed the scene, letting it soothe him until his breath steadied and his eyelids grew heavy.
And then the cicadas were quiet. He no longer heard the TV.
But it was strange. He was still awake.
Will blearily peaked an eye open to the darkness.
A man was hovering him, arms on either sides of Will’s head.
“Hello, Will.”
His voice was light. He was staring at Will calmly, barely looking any older than his age, yet something about him told of maturity, of coming from an older time. He appeared almost made from marble.
Will couldn’t move. Fear had already paralyzed his bones.
“William.” The man said.
Will whimpered as the man gave a simpering smile. His too white teeth glinted with his paleness, his fangs noticeable above all. Will began trembling, his lips parting. He wanted to scream.
“You called for me and I heard you.” The man leaned close. His breath was cold. “I found you after this all time.”
Will shook his head, or at least he tried to. He only could lay there, eyes wide as the man nuzzled his neck, breathing him in. He scrunched his eyes shut. His heart began to pound. His body began feeling hot and his chest tight. He didn’t realize, but his hands, his arms - they were around the man’s back, hugging him closer.
“Will,” The man huffed a laugh into his neck, “as always, your body remembers me.”
This time, Will managed to shake his head—barely. "Though you never called me that," the man eased back, his gaze warm with something unspoken. “My name. It's Micheal."
The dread melted from Will in an instant then. It was as if it had never been there at all.
Out of his control, Will suddenly hugged Michael closer, bringing his body flush with his. Another sound escaped him, a gasp of relief, of… gratitude? He felt so different, so foreign, as if he were in a dream and who he was was not himself. And yet, he felt at total peace. In his mind, he felt a haze so heavy and a name that was now already at the tip of his tongue. He knew he felt in absolute love in this dream, in this haze.
“Mike.” He breathed.
He felt the man smile against his neck, hugging Will even closer. “That's me." He murmured.
Will smiled drunkenly, his hand now in his Micheal’s hair, the other still holding his back. His lips began to move though he felt not present. “Mike.”
“Fuck, Will.” In Will’s haze, he barely registered Mike’s heavy breathing before warm lips found his neck, sending a shiver through him. It was so ticklish that Will let out a breathy giggle, gently tugging at a handful of Mike’s hair, hoping to pull him away and make him stop. He felt a flicker of confusion when his hand did the opposite, pressing Mike’s face deeper into his neck, his fangs grazing his skin. At this, Mike’s movements grew urgent, lifting Will’s hips suddenly as he began slipping off his pants. Will didn’t even know who Mike even was, but he helped raise his own hips anyway, laughing shyly. The cool air hit his ass and Will felt his dick stiff and already leaking, some precum catching on his thighs.
Before he could let out a moan, Mike’s lips were on his, his tongue already sliding against Will's, over and over, hot and cold all rolling against each other. He moaned against Mike’s lips, unable to properly speak, unable to feel anything but complete rapture. He was so lost he barely realized his thighs had been spread apart and Mike was between them, undoing his own pants, freeing himself. Will felt it then, the hardness of Mike’s cock pressed against his as Mike aligned himself, groaning into Will’s mouth.
"It's been too long." Mike said, breathy as he held both of their dicks, rubbing himself against him. "I missed you, Will. I missed you so much."
It was already hot mess of precum, or just cum, Will couldn’t be sure. Somewhere in all the kissing, he felt he came already. He’d never done this before, with anyone for that matter, and here he was - moaning as Mike grabbed him by his jaw, making him stick out his tongue as he slid his own against it, kissing him deeply again and again, as if his life depended on it. Will nearly couldn’t breathe but he didn’t care. Never in his life had something felt so right as this. At some point, Mike then held either sides of Will's face, whispering his name over and over, trying to keep him still while his hips rutted jerkily, his own cock rubbing wetly against Will’s. And then Will was gone again, his eyes rolling back as he felt another orgasm hit him, cum dribbling all over Mike’s cock and some spilling on their chests.
“Mike.” His voice cracked. He had no idea what has happening anymore, only feeling his cock pulse in sensitivity and his throat so dry in how breathless he was. In his delirium, a memory flickered in his mind. A dream within a dream.
It was Mike, smiling at him. He was buttoning his waistcoat, giving him a gleeful eye. “You do know I’ll reject her proposal, right?”
Another memory. Mike, shirtless, burn wounds littered over his chest. A heart-shaped one over his cheek. Will saw a hand that looked much like his own come to ghost over it and Mike closed his eyes, leaning against it. “Will.” He murmured.
“Mike.” He heard himself say. In memory or in this dream, or in real life, he couldn’t be sure. He couldn't be sure what this was.
Will opened his eyes, not knowing when he closed them. Mike had sat up on his knees, raising Will’s legs to rest on either sides of himself. His dark hair was ruffled over his eyes and in the darkness of Will’s room, he looked like a breathing statue.
“Do you remember me now, Will?”
Will blinked sluggishly, breath still coming in quick bursts. It was only a moment before he lifted his hand hesitantly, and Mike leaned in, watching as Will’s fingers brushed the spot on his cheek where the heart-shaped burn had once been.
Mike’s lips curved into a slow smile, his fangs flashing sharply against his skin. “You’re remembering,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion.
