by Te
October 2000

Disclaimers: If they had been mine in the first place, chances are there
wouldn't have been this much slash. Thank you, Joel Schumacher, you
sick *bastard*.

Spoilers: The Lost Boys.

Summary: Michael still has that look in his eyes.

Ratings Note: NC-17.

Author's Note: Not related to my other Lost Boys stuff. Kind of
a riff on one of Audrey's, though. Go read her.

Acknowledgments: To my Debba, for the wonderful screen caps and
the request. *g*


Sammy sort of sidles away slowly, in the way he's learned. Casual, easy,
natural. Not running away screaming. Not moving in the other direction,

Astronomy unit in Science class, and Sammy thinks he knows a little
something about gravitational pull. Michael, his brother, just one big
planet sink, and Sammy's gonna burn up on re-entry and he's watched
too much bad sci-fi.

That and bad horror. Neither of them were ever really into anything but
action and kung-fu flicks before, but since they've been here... Since
*that* night, and the weeks after of repairs and clutter and finding
awful things all over the house and.

Since then, it's better to have the movies. The worse, the better.
Something to laugh away the memories with.

But, see, it doesn't really help, because Michael's always watching them
*with* him. Maybe for the same reasons, maybe not. He can't ever get
the image of Michael half-vamped out of his mind. It's always right
there, ready to surprise him when he blinks, or turns around too fast.

Half-vamped and *hungry*.

And it's like, the last time he ever refused Michael something he was
maybe four, and hadn't wanted to stop playing with new truck yet.
Because Michael always *asks*. Or maybe it's just that he *never*
asks unless he needs. Something. Somehow, from Sammy, and there's
this great power in being able to get it and there's this black hole of
*bad* in the idea that maybe he can't.

Michael isn't a vampire anymore -- Sammy makes a point of watching
him in sunlight -- but he's still *Michael*. And it's too hard to be away
from him times like these, because, even though he hasn't asked
anything *yet*, he's got that look like maybe he will, soon.

A tightness around his eyes, a weird restlessness. Either pushing Sammy
away or dragging him closer, with just this look in his eyes that Sammy's
only ever been able to read as "come here."

And it makes him feel like a little kid. Big brother wants to play with
*him*, and that's wonderful, and he'll do anything because he has the
best big brother in the world. Rode him piggyback all the way around
the old house, up the stairs and down, both of them waving at Mom and
smile-smile-smile. Little triangle of happy that had *nothing* to do
with Dad.

Wonders if Dad would've survived this summer. If maybe Michael
would've turned on *Dad* instead of... him.

And that still hurts. Maybe it's stupid, but it hurts that
Blood-suckingFiend!Michael turned on him right away. Went for him,
all hungry...

Thought that makes him want to sidle away again. Slide under the
warm, strong hand on his shoulder and move over on the couch and it's
not the old terror and hurt, either. It's not anything but the sudden
realization that of *course* Michael went for him, because who else
would he go to?

And he doesn't know how he feels. Just this jumble of pride, of worry
that there *is* someone else Michael confides in, someone he meets
when he rides out alone in the middle of the night, or that it was pretty
fucking sick to be confidant and meal all in one and Sammy is

Which is as far from casual as you can get, especially since the movie is
about as scary as cotton candy. Like, you know there's some freakish
scary clown around *somewhere*, but he's not there so there isn't any
real reason to worry and Michael is touching him.

Really touching him, not just the hand on the shoulder thing. Hand on
his face, knuckles slowly brushing over his cheek because this is the
thing he *really* doesn't want to think about, isn't it?

That one little fact -- Michael still looks so hungry with his tight
eyes and open mouth and hand on Sammy's face.

Michael clicks the television off and the house is dead silent save for
Nanook's chuffing breaths behind the couch. Mom is at work, Grandpa
is showing off his best work at some freakish taxidermy fair and it's
just the two of them. Michael, brushing, brushing, and --


That voice. That one voice that just takes him right back. Under his
window, weirdly wrong wind blowing everywhere, Michael close enough
to do anything and that voice. Begging him.

"Michael, don't --"

"I can still remember the way your blood smelled. The way *you*
smelled. All the time I could smell you and now I can't. Unless I can
get close enough." Michael finally turns to look at him, and his eyes
are terrible. Round, dark and bruised and angry and so *hungry* and
"let me get close."

"Jesus, Michael, *no*." Shifting away, wanting to run but his legs feel
like rapidly melting rubber and the best he can manage is the far edge
of the couch, leaving Michael's hand splayed on the cushion. Michael
looking directly into Sammy's eyes and licking his lips.

"I can make it feel so good, Sammy, I --" Voice cracking and Michael
shakes his head a little and moves closer. "I know how."

"Oh, no no. Just *no*. Look, we're *brothers*. Hello? Incest?"

"Do you love me, Sammy?"

"Of course I love you, Michael! You're my *brother* but this is... oh,
don't touch me --"

"You're hard."

"Fuck *you* --"

"That's good."

And Michael dives in and kissing him is like... no one else's mouth could
ever feel like this. So hard and hungry behind soft lips. Wet and a little
nasty and Sammy thinks he might hurl and he pushes and pushes at
Michael's chest but the bastard is still so much stronger. Still kissing

Softer, now. Not backing off so much as settling in and his hand is still
right there. Still cupping Sammy and it's this warm, strong heat over
his own. Kneading down a little and Sammy realizes the roiling in his
belly is just being turned on. Severely, horribly turned on and it's too
much like being helpless. Michael's other hand behind Sammy's head,
just holding him in place.

Michael licking at Sammy, driving deep with his tongue. No sound but
the soft, wet ones the kiss makes. Embarrassing noises but his cock
is harder and it's *Michael*.

Michael's chest he's not pushing anymore and it's sick, and it's wrong,
but Sammy already knows it -- the rationalization of the dick. It feels
good, no one gets hurt, Michael wouldn't hurt him, Michael *needs* him
and it feels so good that he moans, once, before he can stop himself.

And that's enough to make Michael break the kiss. Eyes shiny, mouth
shiny with spit. Kneeling up, adjusting himself in his tight jeans while
still working Sammy. Conflicting needs to fight again and to just lay back
and take it. Thrusting up against Michael's hand now, lost a little in
Michael's eyes, but when Michael finally goes for Sammy's zipper he
 brushes him away and scrambles away and has no clue what to do.

And Michael's actually *smiling*. "Sammy, c'mon, I changed your

"And that's supposed to make me *want* to get naked with you now?"

"Naked... yeah." And Michael's stripping. T-shirt over the head,
mussing his hair. No socks or shoes so the jeans just come off and,
after a moment's hesitation, so do the boxers and Michael's standing
there. Not any closer, but naked.

And yeah, there have been glimpses -- has to ask himself how many -- but
he hasn't seen all of Michael since he was maybe five and there he is.
Somewhere between lightly tanned and pale. Muscles, but not too many.
Shocking dark hair in a trail down his flat belly and a... thatch of it and
Michael is hard.

Blink and he's stroking himself --

"Let me touch you, Sammy. Touch me."

Another blink and Sammy is frozen and Michael is walking closer and
Sammy is moving back and the stairs are right there. Thoughts of
breaking and running upstairs (beds are there) or outside and just
screaming for help because Michael needs help and that's maybe out
loud because --

"I just need you."

And he's just right there. Could bend down and kiss Sammy, bite him,
and he's still stroking himself slowly. Not too big but big enough cock
and Michael's knuckles brush against Sammy's trapped erection with
every stroke and he knows his cock is leaking pre-come and he knows.

That he's going upstairs.

And with the decision made it's suddenly easy to slip around Michael --
skin so *hot* -- and pick up his clothes and Michael's hands all over
him, slipping around him, over his body and down and a squeeze that
makes his knees buckle but Michael's right there. Guiding Sammy
upstairs, muscles moving perfectly under the skin, making Sammy
feel somewhere between lithe and scrawny.

Wantable, though, because Michael's smile is so happy. Like it's all
suddenly all right instead of fucked up beyond all human comprehension
and Sammy takes off his own clothes. Shivers when he's naked despite
the heat and Michael's right there, pressed along his back, sweat
instantly between them. Michael's cock pressing and pressing at the
small of Sammy's back, moving as they move. Michael's hands again.

Michael's bed huge for the half second before Michael is there with
him. Before Michael is over him, touching him, utterly intent. Over
and over Sammy's nipples with jagged bitten nails, hips seated together
and oh God, that's Michael's *cock*. Michael's cock sliding and jerking
against his own, moving together. Michael pinching and twisting and
one hard and semi-random grab to Sammy's throat and then back to his

Like some fantasy about a cheerleader, only with cocks involved. Wants
to laugh and does, Michael grinning with him and thrusting now. Against
him. And it feels good and he has to do it, too. Counterthrust up and up
and up and it's winding him so *tight* and his balls are already
tightening up and so fucking heavy and moving faster, can't stop, can't
stop himself --

"Sammy, *yes*..."

Barking out a yell and coming all over both of them and there's
something like being dazed, and something like being relieved, and
something like disappointment when Michael moves away. But it's just for
long enough to reposition himself and then Michael is *sucking* him.

Yells again because it's too much, too soon, he's still twitching and his
cock is screaming but pulling on Michael's hair -- so soft, brushing his
belly, pearls of come on the ends -- just makes him suck harder, humming
and it's almost pain. It *is* pain, strange and wrong because Michael
would never... oh Michael cupping Sammy's balls and rolling them a little
and still sucking. So *deep*. All the way down like... like some whore in
a porno and it's *good* pain now.

Good, and he's getting hard, he was already hard. Getting harder and
playing in Michael's hair and trying a fuck and then just fucking.

"Oh oh Michael I'm fucking your *mouth* --"

Something like a growl and Sammy's whole body clenches and Michael
presses in on some spot right behind his balls and Sammy is coming

Too soon, ripping another yell out of him. Like the first time. Like
the first *second* time when it really *had* felt like self-abuse but he
hadn't been able to stop anyway and he feels like he just ran a race,
killed all the vampires there ever were, comes his brains out right
down Michael's *throat*.

Michael who's making spitting noises, gathering up the come still on
Sammy's belly but Sammy can't really be bothered to open his eyes

"Spread your legs." Hoarse command and Sammy obeys before he can
think. And Michael just stares for a moment. Stares at Sammy *there*.
Narrows his eyes when Sammy clenches up, figures it out and then
there's warm and sticky.


"Michael --"

"Shh, baby brother, I don't know if I can take your voice right now..."
One finger circling *there*, around and around. Tickle itch, making him
clench and unclench helplessly but no, he has to ask, has to know.

"Are you gonna fuck me?"

Broken noise and that slick finger is suddenly *inside* him, one too quick
thrust and Sammy has to scream. Not hurt so much as *wrong*. Nothing
should be there, nothing and oh he's maybe going to and Michael, Michael,
*no* --

"Shh, oh God, shh... it's only gonna hurt a little, Sammy, I promise you, oh
I promise need you so *bad*."

Much too late to fight, not to late to struggle, move. Just *move* on it
because it will only hurt a little and Michael is never going to... Michael
is gonna *fuck* him. Stick it in, get inside where Sammy is opening up
right now and the second finger makes him grunt but Michael is tickling
his balls again. Just right. Like he watched Sammy, somehow. Like he
knew but they were brothers so maybe it was just like this for *him*...

Same motions needed, same... oh God, who did Michael fuck before this?
Did somebody fuck him? Make him feel like this, all sweaty and stretched
and terrified and Sammy yells again when Michael *crooks* his fingers
deep inside and his cock is suddenly half-awake again. And Michael does
it again, and again, and there's no place to move that makes it bearable.
Nothing to do but lose himself to it, lightning inside.

"That's it, Sammy, that's it, oh it's gonna get so much better."

Fingers gone, replaced with pressure that feels like a thumb. Just one
thumb, holding him open for. Blunt. Thick and hot, so hot, some iron bar
pulled out of the fire and snugged right up against him and Sammy's
begging but he can't get out anything but raw sound, and holding very
still, and just trying to breathe and the first thrust is *wrong*. Too
much, too much, nothing prepared him for this, oh he had to be bleeding,
Michael was gonna rip him in two, fuck him and drink the blood and no
no --

Dimly feeling Michael's hands on his chest again. Stroking him
sticky-smooth motions. Michael whispering, begging him to relax, just
breathe, and it *hurts* but he has to. Do what that voice says because
Michael needs Sammy and Sammy always helps. Always.

Michael's hands on his cock and balls now, gentle, but fast and oh. Sammy
can feel Michael throb inside him. Jolt. Wide brush of something cutting
through the pain. Something warm and liquid and scary and his cock is
responding and the warm is spreading, God, all over until he realizes that
Michael is rocking his way in. Short, sharp thrusts that send a thin wire
of pure heat down the center of Sammy's cock. Short little thrusts and
bursts of sound and Sammy wants to spread wider.

Open right up and take Michael in because it's where Michael needs to
be. Where they both need him. Deep inside, connected by the fuck and he
wants this to go on forever, he thinks. The pain and the wonderful burn
and the liquid melt and Michael fucking himself right inside Sammy and
it's a shock when he's all the way in. When Michael lifts Sammy up a
little, splays him over his thighs and those are Michael's balls bumping
against his ass.

"Michael... oh Michael I can feel you so deep..."

"I love you."

And then Michael is fucking him for real, sliding out nearly all the way
before slamming back in and Sammy can't describe the noise he's making,
can only whip his head back and forth and remember to breathe because
Michael is. Relentless. Out slow and in so *sharp*, cutting him in two,
blunt and so damned needed and holding on to Sammy's cock and just
squeezing rhythmically and fucking him.

And *fucking* him. Eyes closed and face screwed up into something like
pain and biting his own lip and oh fuck oh god hitting that spot randomly.
Nothing to count on, just these sudden bursts and Sammy can't keep
still, has to get more and Michael is shuddering now and Sammy breathes
and breathes and needs and braces himself.

"Michael, I oh *Christ* I can take it. Please --"

"Sammy I can't --"

Then Michael's hands on Sammy's hips, and holding them and --

"I'm -- I --"

Fast and hard, blur of feeling, impossible to hold on to, to figure out, to
do anything but. Give it up. Give it to Michael because he loves you and
he'll take care of it and he'll never hurt you unless it's *good* and it
lasts somewhere on that line between a heartbeat and forever and
Sammy fists the sheets and Michael is slamming him back onto his cock
and calling his name and coming hard, groaning, fucking through it and
deep into Sammy, slicking the way, making it unbearable and Sammy
jerks himself ruthlessly until he can come, too.

And then nothing, flares of pain and knife bright pleasure and Michael's
heavy weight and Sammy's eyelids way about a million pounds and Sammy's
cock may never work again and he has no idea what time it is and.


Sweat-stuck to Sammy's body. Breathing hard against Sammy's neck
and still so deep inside. Crying, mostly silently, and all Sammy can do is
hug him hard, because it's Michael.

And Michael needs him.