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Grey skies were cast this night, and the mansion in the middle of the forest was hidden within a white mist. The twirling black wire of the gates were overtaken by a blood red rose bush, the same roses which sat in the vases of every room inside. The moon was bright, shining through the clouds above, and a lonely lover elegantly descended a marble staircase, pale hands dragging along the beautifully carved banisters.
He stepped into the ballroom, taking in the same white walls and red carpet he resided within every night. The air was crisp, and filled with a subtle smell of smoke as he struck a match, lighting the white candles that surrounded the room.
He could almost feel his husband there, the ghost of his hands holding him close, a chill every time the wind whispered words in his ear, as his other once would. Dressed in a white shirt and black waistcoat, waiting for a partner to come back and dance with him.
He set down a record to spin, the needle dragging the sound out of it to echo through the room, where the red haired man awaited the return of his husband.
Finally, he scanned over the last letter, as he did every night. The letter he’d got on the morning Luke had left. A promise he would return, and yet he never had. The black ink that looped over light brown paper, only an empty promise.
The sound of a violin ringing out from the record started the song, just as the clock in their foyer outside the ballroom chimed midnight.
He began taking every step gently, back and forwards, a delicate twirl with arms raised and fingers positioned delicately, repeating the moves of the first dance with the lover he had lost. Every night, he swore he could feel him, yet tonight felt more realistic. He felt cold hands wrap around him from behind, so familiar yet strange after so long without. Something told Michael they were real tonight.
The glow of the moon outside cast light in through the intricately designed windows, and to the outer world, there was only the silhouette of two figures dancing to a slow, eerie song, scarce of other noises, except the footsteps on the carpeted floor, and the occasional skip from the needle hitting minor imperfections in the over-played record.
Michael’s breath shook, his eyes that were covered in tear smudged makeup opening as he was twirled around, grey green eyes meeting lifeless blue, staring down at him.
“You left,” the red haired whispered, leaning into his lover’s chest, wrapping his arms around the his back.
“I’m here now, aren’t I, my love?” Luke whispered, holding Michael by the waist with one hand, the other on his neck.
“I thought… you died. That’s what the papers said,” he breathed, following the footsteps of the other as they continued their dance.
“Maybe I did. Does that really matter?”
Michael shook his head, leaning back to look up again at his lover, who brought his head down, meeting the red head’s lips with his own.
The shorter pulled back after a moment, holding Luke’s face between his hands.
“You’re so cold…”
“As are you.”
Michael shook his head, pulling their lips together once again, tilting his head so they could be closer together. He shivered as he felt cold hands grasp his waist, slipping under his shirt and digging his nails in.
The older whimpered, opening his mouth to the taller, their kiss sweet but needy. Luke pulled back, rejecting the invitation, but staying near to Michael all the same, his warm breath hitting the black haired’s mouth as their gazes met.
Michael wrapped his arms around Luke’s neck, searching his face for any emotion, pulling him to lean back as to follow their dance at the same time. Luke slipped his fingers through the other’s hair, tugging it softly to elicit a small whine from the other.
“What happened to you, Lu? They said you died, and since, I’ve shed a thousand tears, dancing here in the moonlight and awaiting your return,” he whispered kissing his lips again softly.
Luke shook his head slowly, leaning down to press kisses into Michael’s neck, sucking gently on the pale skin.
“You needn’t know, my love. It was horrible, yet still, I made my way back to you. Is that not all that matters?” he mumbled between gentle kisses, using his grip in Michael’s hair to move his head and expose his neck, as the other pulled them upwards from their earlier position.
Back and forwards, Michael moving backwards, before they sidestepped and spun around.
Michael opened his mouth to reply, but a shaky whimper was all that could leave his lips as he felt sharp teeth dig into his neck. He grasped at Luke’s back desperately, hands shaking as he felt his blood trickle down from where Luke’s mouth was.
Ruby red stained his crisp white collar, his pale skin now littered with red and soon to be purple marks as he let his husband have his way. Tears fell down his cheeks from the pain, or the pleasure, neither could tell as all feeling was a blur in the moment. They glittered as the golden candlelight hit them, running down his face.
Luke pulled away, licking over the area he had just bitten, kissing Michael harshly the moment he had built the thoughts to ask what had happened. He shoved his tongue against the other’s, and Michael’s breath shook as he tasted his own blood within his lover’s mouth.
Michael pushed him back wearily, a hand coming up to hold the wound on his neck.
“What are you?” He whispered, eues wdie as he stepped back towards the turntable behind him.
In that moment, a sudden burst of wind put out all candles, the room much darker and colder than before, and before Michael was aware, he was being pushed back against the table, the knuckles of his free white as he grasped the dark wood to support himself.
Luke held him in place, arms cradling Michael, staring into his eyes. The moonlight hit the glitter of Luke’s eyeshadow beautifully, a nice contrast to the lack of shine in his once lively eyes.
Michael reached up, holding Luke’s jaw and pulling his lips apart, staring at the sharp, white teeth his husband now had.
“They made you a creature of the night…” He said, voice remorseful, letting go of his lips and settling for holding his face close to his own.
“That, they did.”
“And yet you’re still so beautiful. Night creatures are hideous, are they not?”
“And are widows not meant to be withered and broken?”
Michael laughed gently, shaking his head. The needle of the record hit the centre, the last notes ringing out before silence fell on the hall.
“Do you still concern yourself with love, in your passing?”
“Do you still concern yourself with love, in my own passing?”
“What if I wither away, what if I age horribly, while you remain young and beautiful?”
“Roses always bloom again, my love, despite every winter, you still come up roses,” Luke smiles softly, gazing into his husband’s eyes.
“Would I be your pet, only here to sustain your thirst, until my own passing?” Michael whispers, nerves evident in his voice.
“What if your own passing was alike to mine?”
“You kill me,” he laughs again.
“Quite literally, if you wish,” Luke joins Michael in the quiet laughter.
Michael quietens, pulling Luke in to kiss him again. He murmurs a quiet acceptance between their lips, biting the brunette’s softly as a signal.
Luke obeys, lowering his head into the nook of Michael’s neck again, his teeth piercing another area of the smooth, pale skin beneath, relishing in the whines of his lover above, winding his hands back into the fluffy red hair. He sucked, licking the blood that surfaced from the bite, before pulling back.
“Are you sure?” He breathed, watching his breathless lover try to form a sentence.
Michael nodded slowly, processing the question as Luke removed a hand from his hair, presenting his wrist to his mouth.
“Drink.”
Michael nodded slowly, a stupid smile on his face as he looked up at Luke, bringing his warm lips to the other’s wrist and sucking gently.
“Is that really biting, Michael?” Luke laughed, a gentle sarcastic tone evident within.
Michael shook his head, letting out a small “mmph” as his husband used his grip in his hair to shove him forward, his teeth knocking the vein as he finally bit down as hard as he could, cold blood running over his lips and into his mouth, failing to stay clean as some trickled down his chin and joined the stains on his collar from earlier. He whined, pulling back from Luke’s wrist and pulling him forward into another kiss, blood mingling between their lips, Luke pulling away, licking the blood smeared around his husband’s mouth.
“I’ll always love you,”
“Good, for we’re bound together by eternally henceforth.” Michael giggled quietly, passing out in his husband’s arms with a gasp as the loss of blood took his life.