Work Text:
Phil loved sweets. You’ll ruin your teeth, they’d all said, it’s not good for you Phil. He used to try and hold back, lock up the candy, make himself earn the marshmallows. Now he wishes he had just fully indulged. Blood just tastes like metal. It feels good but it doesn’t taste good. He misses sugar more than he misses the sun.
Still, he finds his sweet in other things. Tonight, it’s the sand between his toes as he walks along the moonlit beach, shoes is in hand, searching for seashells. Solitude is a skill he’s honing and he’s getting pretty good at it. Which is why, when he sees someone sitting in the sand a ways up the beach, he pauses.
He’s leaned back on his elbows, stargazing, legs stretched out in front of him. As Phil comes closer, he sees him clearly and he is beautiful, all long lines and curly hair, silver light dancing off the angles of his face. His head is tipped back, strong neck exposed and Phil’s stomach growls.
Phil should turn back. If he gets too close, he won’t be able to hold back. If he smells the acrid iron coursing through that inviting throat, he’ll give in. With a stuttering breath, he steels his nerves and turns toward the water.
“You don’t have to go.” A voice says, sweet and musical like a child in a fairy tale, but he’s not a child, he’s grown and gorgeous and Phil’s hunger screams inside him.
He looks back over his shoulder and there he is, his fellow beachcomber, sitting up now and looking right at him. Walk away Phil. Go home. He tries, he really does, but his feet carry him closer.
“Go on then, sit with me,” he says, “what’s your name? I’m called Daniel.” He smiles and Phil thinks he won’t miss the sun anymore.
He sits down next to him and the sand is warm. Their bare feet mingle. The scent of him fills Phil’s senses and it’s new, entirely new and fucking incredible, like berries and wine and salted caramels.
“I know what you are,” Daniel says but Phil can’t respond. New cravings mix with old into one heady cocktail of want and he simply stares, mouth watering.
“You can’t hurt me.” Daniel leans in then and kisses him and it’s too much. Phil is dizzy and drowsy and somehow he knows it’s true. He can’t hurt this one.
“Go ahead.” And he tips his head back again.
The waves crash and the sound blends in perfect rhythm with the beating of this boy’s heart and Phil doesn’t have to hold back so he doesn’t. His flesh is soft like fondant and Phil sinks in and drinks. He drinks and everything he’s lost rushes in. Christmas morning and boba tea and marshmallows and the berries poured over the cake his boyfriend had made for his birthday. That was the day before he was turned.
It all sits on his tongue, tart and raspberry sweet. He licks his lips and tilts his own head back to feel the warmth of a sun that isn’t there.
When he opens his eyes again, Daniel is walking toward the water, stripping down to gorgeous golden skin.
“What... Where are you going?” Phil stammers, still drunk on the joy of him.
“Home,” he says and he smiles over his shoulder. He walks straight ahead, into the waves and something rises in Phil’s heart, it’s bliss, absolute visceral delight from somewhere deep in his chest as Daniel dives in and the waves crash over him.