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Ties Stronger Than Blood	By : Scribe Category: G through L > Lost Boys Views: 4212 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Lost Boys, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 13
- 14
- 15
Ties Stronger Than Blood

by Scribe
Chapter Fourteen
They made their way through the crowd to where the bikes were parked. Once again Marko climbed up behind David, and they took off. They drove slowly till they were away from the crowds, but when they hit the streets, they sped up. Marko spooned up tight against David's back, hands locked in front, but before they'd reached the cliffs, he'd started to explore. David felt the other boy's hands moving over this tee-shirt clad chest and belly, rubbing firmly, then scratching, just hard enough for him to feel the nails through the thin cotton. When they raked over his nipples, he grunted, and hit the accelerator. Dwayne and Paul, taken by surprise, raced their motors to catch up with them.
David pulled up at the bluffs, knocked his kickstand down on the bike, and dismounted quickly. The second Marko swung his leg over the bike, David grabbed him, jerking him up tight against his body, and growling, "In a hurry tonight, Songbird?"
Marko's eyes looked enormous in the moonlight, and his smile was somehow sly and angelic at the same time. "It's just so good to be able to give in to a simple impulse without having to look over my shoulder."
David's grip on Marko's shoulders gentled, and he felt a fine tremor running through the other boy's body. "Cold?"
"Yeah. I worked up a real sweat, got my shirt damp. The wind cooled it down a lot, and out here on the cliffs..."
"Fuck me for an ungallant bastard." David pulled off his jacket, holding it open. "Slip into this."
Marko did, as Paul and Dwayne pulled up and parked. Paul gave him the thumbs up sign. "That looks natural on you, kid."
Dwayne nodded agreement, but said, "Looks good, but I think he's more of the denim jacket type. You know, with lots of cool patches and buttons?"
"That'd work," David agreed. He tugged on Marko's collar. "Of course, he'd look good in anything, or out of anything. Let's get inside--it'll be warmer there." David led the way down the stairs and into the cave-like entrance of the lair.
Marko hesitated just inside, trying to peer through what looked like a solid wall of darkness. David said, "Wait here a minute. Guys, let's get this place lit up." Dwayne and Paul pushed past Marko, disappearing into the shadows, but almost immediately a point of light bloomed in the dark, then another, and another. By then there was enough light for Marko to watch as the boys moved around the room, lighting dozens of candles. David moved on to a fireplace and got a blaze going as his companions finished their chore. Satisfied with his efforts, David stood on the hearth, the flames leaping and cracking behind him, and spread his arms, indicating the shabby elegance around him. "Welcome to my home. Enter freely of your own will, and leave some of the happiness you bring."
Marko hesitated. The words held a peculiar resonance to him, and it took only a split second for him to remember where he had heard them. Many things flashed through his mind--the comic books, various books and movies, the coolness of David's flesh, the boys' 'condition', bloody semen, the raw, aching bruise on the side of his throat... He realized that he'd been standing there for several moments. The Lost Boys were silently staring at him, waiting. As he watched, Dwayne put a hand on David's back in a comforting, supportive gesture.
Marko stepped further into the lair. He walked to stand before David. Looking into his eyes, he said, "This looks a lot like home to me."
The others, seeing that their leader was not going to be rejected, relaxed. Paul took a boom box out from behind the battered reception desk, then opened a drawer and pawed through a jumble of cassettes, casually tossing rejects over his shoulders. He finally found one to his satisfaction and plugged it in. Bright, hard rock and roll burst from the speakers. "Well, I guess it would be nice if I could touch your body. I know not everybody has got a body like you..." Paul whooped happily, spinning the volume knob to high, and started dancing, singing along. "But I gotta think twice before I give my heart away, an' I know ev'ry game you play..." He grabbed Dwayne, spinning the laughing boy around, grinding their hips together. "Because I play them tooo..."
David glanced over at Marko while this was happening, and noticed how the boy's eyes were shining, his lips moving slightly. "You know this one."
Marko nodded. "I found the lyrics in a magazine."
"Yeah?" David dropped down on a couch, grinning at Marko. "How about a real show? C'mon, you sang and danced for the righteous. How about giving us something?" Marko hadn't been shy about performing for long in his life--Ruth had whipped any stage fright out of him quickly. He sang for strangers most nights out of the year. This was a unique opportunity, though--the chance to sing music that he would really enjoy in front of people he liked. And this time he could give in to the rhythm and move. He nodded slowly. "Paul," David called. "Start that over and you two take a seat. We get a private show."
As Dwayne sat beside David, Paul hit REWIND on the tape player. "Woo-hoo! If I'd known we were gonna get another show, I'd have brought popcorn!" As the blank space between songs started to hiss through the speakers, he bounced over and flopped on David's other side.
Marko had only seconds to get ready, but he felt like he'd been preparing for this his entire life. When the music started, he started moving. And this wasn't the muted, restrained motion he'd allowed himself during the more vigorous gospel numbers. He never held back on his music, but this time there was something different about it. It felt completely natural, and unforced.
David, Dwayne, and Paul were as appreciative as any audience he'd ever had, and their enthusiasm was different from his usual audience. The others, those masses of pale, shining faces, always seemed to be directed toward something that was beyond him. The Lost Boys were focusing on him.
"Oh, but I need some time off from that emotion, time to pick my heart up off the floor. And when that love comes down without devotion, well it takes a strong man, baby, but I'm showin' you the door. Cause I gotta have faith..."
As Marko continued to sing and dance, he thought of how strange it was. Love without devotion was useless. But wasn't devotion without love even worse? That was what Ruth was dedicated to. She professed complete devotion to her God, her church, and her work for both. But Marko had never detected an atom of love for any of that, or for anything else, of this world or the next. She didn't the congregations they witnessed to through music, she didn't love John, she didn't love Marko... She didn't even love herself. What about these boys? He'd seen them together. There was love here. The love between Paul and Dwayne was plain and deep. The love they held for David, and David had for them, was different, but it was still strong and undeniable.
As he sang, Marko thought about all the times in his life he'd felt empty, and longed to reach out to someone--wanting some sort of warmth and closeness. There had been chances. Anyone who thought that church folks were sexually neuter were kidding themselves. He often thought that some of them were even more sensitive to the possibilities of sex, since they were so consumed by the idea of sins of the flesh. Yes, they concentrated on fighting the urges, but you couldn't do that without focusing on them in the first place.
And Marko was something of a celebrity in his world. There were certain audience members... No one in the churches they visited would use the word, but the professional musicians in the band weren't so reticent among themselves--they called them groupies. The heat Marko saw shining in their eyes wasn't always religious fervor. He was watched closely, but if he'd been inclined--it would have been possible. But he'd waited, because that would have been nothing but physical, and though physical was nice, he wanted more.

Marko looked at David. What did he see in the blond boy's eyes? Desire, yes, most definitely--but more than that. There was acceptance, caring, and... kinship. *We're alike somehow,* Marko thought. Even as the music wound down, he had recognized something inside himself that he hadn't really been aware of before. Call it darkness, call it a cool spot in the warmth of life--whatever it was, he saw it in each of the Lost Boys, but most of all in David, and it called to him.
The music faded away, and he turned quickly, punching the STOP button, not ready to go on to the next song. He turned back to applause and whistles of approval. Paul pointed at him. "Ya know, you're better than most of the ones they hire to perform at the boardwalk. You could have a real career in the mainstream, if you wanted to."
"Thanks."
Marko was shifting a little, and David drawled, "Will one of you hogs scoot over and give the boy a seat." Paul immediately grunted and tried to crawl onto David's lap. David swatted him on the head, shoving him back, while Dwayne moved closer to the end, opening a space beside David. David patted the cushion beside him, and Marko went to sit.
Marko felt comfortably crowded, if that was even a legitimate term. David had thrown his arm over the back of the couch, which meant that it lay along his shoulders, and Dwayne had sort of tilted toward him, till he was pressed along his side. There had been times when the audience pressed in close after a performance, or he was forced to share a too cramped car for transportation, and he'd never really enjoyed these times. But now he didn't feel the least bit stifled. Being hemmed in by all that cool, solid flesh made him feel secure.
"Thanks," he repeated. "But you know, I don't really want a big career."
David cocked an eyebrow at him. "No? You're pretty unique in California, then."
Marko shook his head. "I want to be in music, but it doesn't have to be in the spotlight. In fact, I think that's kind of limiting. If you're going to try to promote a popular career, you have to make a lot of compromises, do what sells. I'd rather do like my Uncle Gene, work the clubs and bars. Or I could sing backup for other artist, or do commercial jingles. People make good money doing that. They can have long careers."
"They're kind of anonymous," said David. "Probably the only people who know their names are the ones who work with them."
"That would suit me," Marko insisted. "I don't need a lot of people knowing my name. I just need a few people... to know me."
"People you know, who know you?" Marko nodded. David glanced at the other two boys. "Could you two do that?"

Paul nodded. "What the hell? I'm an open book..." He started talking quickly, and Marko had to wonder if it was because he was afraid that if he slowed, the words would stick in his throat, refusing to come out. He'd heard similar stories before, usually when they played a larger city. Often one of the churches would have a member witness during the performance. The stories were a lot like Paul's--cast into an impersonal and cold system of government care at an early age, homes ranging from indifferent, through neglectful, into abusive, running away, life on the road--or rather survival on the road. Turning to alcohol for escape, turning to sex to finance the bare necessities. The stories he'd heard before had always ended, "And then I found Jesus..." But Paul finished his with, "Then I met David." A shrug. A warm smile. "I was home."
Paul looked over at Dwayne. The younger boy had sat forward, clasping his hands in his lap. The dark curtain of hair had swung forward to hide his face, but Marko could see how tightly the hands were fisted, so hard that they trembled. He said softly. "He doesn't have to--if it hurts too much."
Dwayne looked up at him suddenly, dark eyes staring through dark hair, for a long moment. Paul got up and went to stand behind him. He didn't say a word, but he put his hands on the other boy's shoulders, fingers gently working at tensed muscles. Dwayne closed his eyes for a moment, and some of the tension went out of his body. "His name was Jake the Snake. My mother married him when I was about thirteen--fourteen, and I guess he figured he owned me." He closed his eyes again, baring his teeth. "And my Mom didn't see fit to argue with him..."
He kept talking, and Marko listened with growing horror to the tale of emotional, physical, and sexual abuse--and murder. "...and he shot me. Then the neighbor lady shot him. He died in the hospital. David and Paul got me out of there, and I've been with them ever since." He looked intently at Marko. "This is the only real family I've ever had," he said, with unshakable conviction.
"That's good," Marko said softly. "It's great that you found each other." Dwayne's grim expression softened, and he smiled a little. Then he looked across Marko at David.

David didn't react immediately. He lit a cigarette and took a long drag, letting the smoke drift out slowly, watching it swirl up into the air. Eyes still following the thin patterns, he said quietly, "It's a long, long story. I'll give you the short version. My Dad died when I was little. My Mom and brother died in an earthquake. Max took me in." He shrugged, grinding the cigarette out against the sole of his boot, and smiled over at the others. "And I found my boys." His eyes settled on Marko. "Now I've found you. Haven't I?"

Marko felt a prickling wave of warmth sweep over him as he read the question in David's eyes. David had found the others. David had made them a family. Now Marko was standing just on the outside of that small, tight-knit group, but there was an opening, just enough for him to slip in, if he wanted.

Marko nodded. "Yes, you have."
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Ties Stronger Than Blood