In the Pale Moonlight

BY : Wolfiekins
Category: 1 through F > An American Werewolf in London
Dragon prints: 2059
Disclaimer: I do not own An American Werewolf in London, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

AMERICAN WEREWOLF IN LONDON slash. David/Jack. This is an ‘extended scene’ that takes place right after David and Alex shag, and David goes to the loo to find Jack staring at him in the bathroom mirror. This would be Jack’s second ‘visit’ with David. David and Jack then talk a bit in Alex’ sitting room. And that’s where we join our mates.

More than a bit AU, obviously, but I’ve attempted to keep this interlude within the confines of the canon storyline.

I’ll say right here that I don’t believe this to be necro in any way. There’s no non-con or dub-con whatsoever. Consent is all important, in my book. Hey, it’s fanfic, yeah? Still, be warned that this is a bit, well, different.

Thanks to evilauntiesnape for the nearly instant beta!

For Koshie...

~~~ IN THE PALE MOONLIGHT ~~~


It was all too fucking crazy. Nothing seemed real any more. The attack on the moors had really screwed with his head, apparently.

He'd barely been able to digest the fact that he was alone in England, that Jack was dead, murdered, mauled to a bloody pulp really, and his long anticipated back-packing trip across Europe had turned into a nightmare. He didn’t know a soul, his parents hadn’t even bothered to fly over to be with him, and the weird English cops had all but treated him like a total asshole.

All that was bad enough, but when Jack's spirit, or ghost, or whatever the hell it was first showed up at the hospital, he‘d nearly lost it. He didn’t want to believe it, couldn’t believe it, but Jack had seemed so real, so concerned, so earnest.

So, well...Jack.

But Jack couldn’t have been real. No way.

He'd convinced himself that he'd hallucinated the whole thing, that the tranquilsers and pain killers had messed with his already flustered mind.

Or maybe it’d been the hospital food. Something tangible, for chrissakes...

Alex already thought he was a bit nuts. Hell, he was having serious doubts about his sanity himself. But she took him under her wing anyway, and she was hot, funny, nice. She helped him feel better. Normal even. And he even managed to get it up for her, which was a good development. A step in the right direction, anyway.

She’d made it easier for him to push the odd memories, dreams and doubts off to the side of his messed up head. It was always easier during the day. Things seemed to return to normal in the daylight. He almost felt like his old self then, and he could even begin to believe that he'd be able to put his life back on track. That he'd climb on that plane in a week's time and leave all the nasty crap behind.

But once night fell...well, shit changed. It all came crashing back on him at once.

He felt totally different at night. In the darkness.

He felt in tune somehow, at ease, but not. Like he belonged to the night, that he was a part of it and was calling him somehow, as weird as that sounded. He felt strange urges to go out and just wander about in the darkness, to find that forest he'd seen in his dreams, to strip off all his clothes and just run amongst the trunks, naked and free in the moonlight.

He heard things too, sounds, voices almost, not scary ones really, but they were strange, whispery, persistent. He knew they were speaking to him, oddly muffled, always just there, insistent but tenuous, cajoling, determined to snag and hold his attention.

And that wasn’t all. Everything had a different smell suddenly, sharper, more distinct, more stimulating. He was surrounded by a miasma of odours, both familiar and new. The flat was permeated with strong aromas, and it wasn't just the remains of the spicy curry Alex had whipped up earlier, either. Sometimes it was overwhelming, and his mind couldn’t always separate them all from each other. But he was getting better at doing that; it was a lot like learning to listen to a single voice in a room full of other voices.

Shit had changed. For sure.

He’d hoped to god that he was imagining it all. But he'd been released from the hospital days ago, and things had only gotten worse.

And here was Jack again, sitting on Alex' gaudy floral print sofa, all smiles and bad puns, covered in blood and gore and stinking for all the world like a huge mound of rotten hamburger.

"Fuck you, Jack. Go away."

"You've gotta believe me, man. You'll kill people."

"Bullshit."

He heard footsteps at the same time Jack did. Jack smirked.

"Beware the moon, David."

David wanted to respond, but the sound of soft footsteps from the hallway grew closer. He knew it was Alex, and as much as he wanted her to see Jack, as much as he wanted her to see that Jack was real and not simply a figment of his imagination, he was also terrified of it.

Because if Alex saw Jack too, that could mean only one thing.

It would mean that Jack was right.

He really was a werewolf.

And he'd kill people the next time the moon was full.

"David?"

"Huh?" he spat out, jumping in the chair and adjusting the very tiny pillow over his naked groin. "What?" He looked frantically about; thankfully, Jack was gone.

Alex stepped cautiously into her small sitting room, finally stopping in a sliver of streetlamp light filtering in through the big bay windows.

"Are you right?"

Damn, she was gorgeous.

"No, no I don't think so."

Alex stepped around the sofa, her hands playing with the hem of the overlarge t-shirt of his that she was wearing. "David..." she began.

"Jack was just here," he blurted out, barely able to believe he'd said the words.

"Your dead friend Jack?" Alex said, her tone strangely sympathetic.

"Yeah. He was just here, and he said that I'm a werewolf. That I’ll kill people. Crazy, isn't it? I'm crazy."

Alex sat down on the edge of the sofa, laying a hand on his knee.

"I don't think you're crazy," she said softly. "I think you loved Jack very much, and you're still working out how to deal with his death. Quite natural to be out of sorts, really."

David snorted. "You think so? Because I feel like I'm losing it, Alex. Lately I feel like I'm going to fucking jump right out of my skin." He glanced over at her, and she was frowning ever so slightly. "Sorry. Wrong answer."

She squeezed his knee. "I can't begin to know what you're going through, David. I've lost people of course, but never someone as close as Jack was to you. Try to be patient. I know it’s difficult, but these things take time."

"Yeah, I hope so." He grinned, hoping it looked genuine, and apparently it did, as Alex smiled broadly in response.

His grin faded instantly, though, when he noticed Jack standing behind the sofa, rolling his eyes and sticking the index finger of one hand through the circle made by the index finger and thumb of the other.

"What is it?" Alex asked, her brow furrowing in the most attractive way possible.

"Nothing," he replied, waving a hand. "Just a little tired."

Alex nodded and stood up. "Best medicine for that is a good night's sleep." She put out her hand. "C'mon. We'll ring Dr. Hirsch first thing. He'll know what to do."

He took a deep breath, sinking deeper into the chair.

Jack shook his head, jabbing his index finger into the center of his chest. He then pointed it directly at David, finally gesturing to the sofa. He silently mouthed what looked like 'Get rid of her, we need to talk.'

"David?" Alex was beginning to look concerned again.

"I'd like to sit out here for awhile," he replied quickly. "Need to be alone to think things through. And I'm a bit thirsty, so...."

Alex nodded. "Fine, then. There's a few bottles of Guinness in the refrigerator." She stepped back a bit and folded her arms. "Don't stay up too late, please?"

Jack pulled a face, stepped behind Alex, and assumed a pose that was meant to emulate a vampire ready to attack.

"No, I won't. Promise." He flashed her an exaggerated smile.

Alex cleared her throat and turned to leave.

David nearly leapt from the chair, fearful that she'd see Jack standing there. He needn't have to worried, as she simply walked right through Jack, turning once and smiling before she disappeared down the hallway.

"Nice bird," Jack quipped in a sloppy British accent, rolling his eyes again and sitting down on the sofa cushion that Alex had just occupied.

"Where'd you learn to talk like that?"

Jack held up both hands. "Dead in England. Work it out, okay?"

"Whatever," he huffed. "So what is it, Jack."

"I've told you. You need to kill yourself before you kill others. Sorry to burst your bubble, but that's all there is to it."

"Because I'm a werewolf."

"Right."

"Thanks."

“You know it’s true.”

“Go away, Jack.”

"Sorry, buddy, but I can't lie to you. We've known each other too long. If there were any other way out of this, I'd tell you about it." Jack jerked his head toward the kitchen, the torn strips of skin on his left cheek flapped about, and one of them fell onto the sofa. "I thought you were thirsty."

He nodded. "I am."

"Well? Go on, then." Jack flipped his shredded left hand toward Alex’ kitchen.

David stood up, tossing the pillow onto the coffee table. Slipping between the chair and sofa, he walked the few steps to the kitchen, opening the tiny refrigerator and extracting a large brown bottle.

He could feel Jack’s eyes on him, swallowing him, devouring him as he stood there, naked. It certainly wasn’t the first time Jack had seen him without clothes; they’d had the same class schedule since sixth grade, sharing untold nervous minutes in the shower rooms at the end of innumerable gym classes over the years.

But there was something different now, urgent, even, about his friend’s stares.

Well of course things were different, he thought to himself.

He was totally whacked out of his skull.

And he was having a beer with the animated corpse of his dead best friend.

Fuck!

Using the magnetic bottle opener that held a photo of David Bowie to the refrigerator, he popped the cap of his beer bottle. Replacing the opener, he took a deep drink.

"Hey, what about me?"

He jumped, nearly spitting out his mouthful of Guinness. "What?"

Jack leaned over the back of the sofa, his expression strangely predatory. "Where's your manners, buddy? I'm parched." Jack's gaze travelled down David's naked torso and legs. "Whaddaya say?"

David shuddered slightly, retrieving and opening another Guinness.

Jack grinned widely, his teeth amazingly bright in the moonlight washing in through the windows.

David suddenly felt even more vulnerable and exposed as he hurriedly plopped down in the chair. He'd never felt that way around Jack before. They'd known each other forever. No one knew him like Jack did. He held out the full beer to Jack, whose fingers languidly closed around the chilled, brown bottle.

"Thanks," Jack said softly, his fingers lingering on David's far too long.

"No problem," David rasped out as he sank into the chair and drank deeply from his own bottle. He watched as Jack raised the bottle to his ruined and torn lips.

Jack closed his eyes and tilted the bottle up, the remains of his lips closing about the mouth of the bottle as best they could. The shredded muscles and ligaments of his throat worked vigorously as some of the deep brown liquid spilled from the torn side of his mouth.

David held his breath, watching as most of the Guinness dribbled from Jack’s destroyed throat and splattered onto Alex’ sofa.

“Jack,” David murmured, his chest convulsing painfully. He grabbed the discarded pillow and quickly jammed it back into his lap.

Jack lowered his bottle and set it on the coffee table. “What’s wrong, Davey?”

“Can you...still...taste...?”

Jack grunted and shrugged out of his bloody jacket, flinging it away. “Funny thing about being undead. Neither here nor there. Not one place or the other, ya know?” He leaned forward, clasping both hands on his knees. “But yeah, I can still recall the taste of beer. What it’s supposed to taste like. The afterimage of the flavour, I suppose. So the answer‘s yes.” He reached out and laid a hand on David’s knee. “And I can still feel, too. Everything.”

David stifled a gasp. Jack’s hand was oddly warm and cool all at once. “Jack, I’m so sorry.”

“I know, really. I’ve been watching you all along. I know everything now. I understand.” He patted the sofa cushion next to him. “C’mere.”

David paused a moment before draining his Guinness. He glanced down at himself and shivered. “Jack...”

Jack moved his hand up along David’s leg and inner thigh. “Don’t get modest on me all of a sudden,” he murmured, leaning forward. “Don’t abandon me now, okay? I’m alone, Davey. In the dark. So many things in the dark. They surround me when I’m not here with you, clawing, pulling at me. You’re the only one...the only thing that keeps them all away.” He slowly slid his hand under the pillow. “I need you, Davey,” Jack pleaded. “You’re my light. Please?”

David swallowed hard. He could smell Jack’s decaying flesh clearly. Sickly, pungent, but underlying all of that, it was still very much Jack, his best friend, his closest buddy, his odour slightly musky, piney and smelling vaguely of mothballs. It was repulsive and stimulating at the same time.

It was Jack.

“Get over here,” Jack said, again patting the sofa. “One more time, Davey, okay?”

David nodded and stood up, the pillow dropping to the floor. He stepped gingerly between the sofa and coffee table, shivering as Jack’s cool breath blew across his bare ass. He dropped onto the sofa heavily, clamping his hands together and jamming them between his legs.

Jack leaned back onto the sofa and offered David his beer. “Looks like you need this more than I do.”

David took the partial bottle of Guinness and gulped it down. “Thanks,” he replied, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and plopping the bottle to the coffee table with a sizable clunk. He looked at Jack, at once amazed that his friend’s warm brown eyes blazed as brightly as they ever had. “This really sucks, ya know?”

Jack grunted and shifted closer. “No shit.” He slowly brought one hand up and ran it across David’s broad, bare chest. “Fuck, Davey. “I’m really gonna miss this. Miss you.”

David took a deep breath as Jack leaned over and kissed his left nipple. Jack’s lips were cold and strangely soft, but not at all unpleasant. One of Jack’s hands skimmed across the gooseflesh of his inner thigh and barely touched his half-hard cock. David closed his eyes and leaned into his dead friend. “I don’t know if...I mean I want to...”

Jack chuckled and lifted his head, nuzzling and licking his way up David’s chest and neck. “Just let go, okay? Remember the time at Fuzzy Berkowitz’ kegger last summer?”

David sighed, willing his now aching cock to relax. “Sure, of course I remember,” he breathed. “But we both agreed that was the last time.”

Jack sniggered softly as he nibbled on David’s earlobe. “Shit, Davey. I know what we said then.” He closed his cool fingers about David’s fully erect cock. “Aren’t we a bit beyond all that crap now?”

David groaned. “You’re the one that suggested that we quit cold turkey and date girls.”

Jack growled, the loose, torn flesh on the left side of his mouth quivering slightly. “Only because I knew you weren’t ready to deal with being gay yet.” He found and tweaked one of David’s nipples rather roughly. “And yeah, things’ve changed, wouldn‘t you say? I’m dead and you’re a werewolf. Let’s get on with it, okay?”

David shifted a bit and opened his legs wider. He dared to allow his left hand slide along the waistband of Jack’s jeans. The next instant, he was untucking Jack’s bloody and ruined t-shirt, his fingers ghosting across Jack’s smooth stomach. “Shit, Jacky. You still feel good.”

“That’s my boy,” Jack said, pushing away and pulling off his t-shirt. “And so do you. So fucking gorgeous, Davey.” He leaned down and licked his way along David’s taut stomach.

David threw his arm about Jack’s shoulders and hugged him tightly. Whatever had happened to them both, it now seemed absurd to deny the feelings that they’d harboured for each other, for so long. He’d known way back in junior high that he desired Jack, but the prevailing atmosphere in Cheektowaga, New York, hadn’t seemed at all conducive to acting upon those feelings.

But now, things had indeed changed. Jack made perfect sense, as always.

David shifted away and flopped onto his back. “I’m sorry, Jacky. Don’t know where my mind’s been.” He put both hands behind his neck and stretched. “Forgive me?” He threw both legs across Jack’s lap.

Jack nodded, running both hands along David’s inner thighs. He sighed deeply.

“What?” David asked.

“Damnit,” Jack said. “Why’d it have to come to this? We shoulda figured things out a long time ago.”

“Shoulda, woulda, coulda. No sense worrying over it now,” David replied, pulling Jack toward him. “C’mere.”

Jack took a deep breath, which whistled strangely as it passed through his shredded throat. He shifted about and crawled up David‘s body. “Sorry. Regret’s the worst thing once you’re dead.” He laid his head on David’s chest, wrapping his arms around David’s broad shoulders.

David reached out and carded his fingers through Jack’s matted hair. “Enough of that, okay?” He lifted Jack’s head from his chest. “We’re both jerks.” He stared into Jack’s unearthly bright eyes for a moment before crashing his lips to Jack’s. Jack tasted cold, musty, the afterflavour of the Guinness overlaid with an odd tang that was certainly not unpleasant.

Jack groaned loudly, throwing himself completely into the embrace. He pushed his tongue into David’s mouth as he wriggled his way farther up David’s naked body.

David ran his hands along Jack’s torso, his mind struggling to ignore the rents and tears in his friend’s flesh. Strangely, Jack’s skin was much warmer than it had been earlier. He thrust both hands down the back of Jack’s jeans, massaging and squeezing his friend’s nicely rounded ass.

Jack lifted his head slightly, breaking their kiss. “No, don’t,” he spluttered. “Sort of a mess down there.”

“What do you mean?”

Jack turned his head to the side. “It’s embarrassing.”

“C’mon,” David replied.

Jack’s voice was nearly inaudible. “I’m filthy.”

“You mean...”

“Yeah.”

David shifted uncomfortably. “Shit.”

Jack lifted himself up abruptly. “Not funny, asshole.”

“Keep it down, dickwad,” David admonished. “Alex’ll hear us.”

Jack cocked his head to one side. “She’s asleep.”

“How do you know?”

Jack sighed. “I just do.” He made to sit up. “This was a bad idea.”

“No, Jacky, don’t go.”

“I’m disgusting.”

“No, you’re not.” David reached up and caressed Jack’s ruined cheek. “Not to me. Ever. I’m assuming that you don’t have to hang about and watch over me.”

“No.”

“But you have.”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

Jack remained silent for a very long time. When he spoke again, his eyes were closed. “I could’ve gone on, you know, into the next realm or whatever the fuck. But I couldn’t. I knew what’d happened to you. So I made the choice to stay behind and try to, well, help. Not doing very well, I guess.”

David framed Jack’s head with both hands. “What do you mean, you stayed? Are you telling me that you didn’t have to be here, like this? That you did this for me?”

Jack tried to pull away but David gripped him more tightly. “I couldn’t leave you like this. Not if I could help out somehow.”

“But you said that you had to stay behind because you died an unnatural death. You never mentioned anything about a choice before.”

Jack pulled away. “It’s different for me, David. We’re friends. More than that, really.”

“Jack.”

“There’s a bond between us that goes way beyond everything else, a bond that lasts, even after death. And we’re also linked because we were attacked by the same werewolf. If I’d have survived, we’d have been packmates. There’s a nice mental picture, huh?”

David closed his eyes and massaged his temple. “I don’t understand. You keep saying that if I’m a werewolf...”

“You are.”

“Okay!” David replied. “So then the people that I might kill will have the same choice you did, right?”

Jack shook his head. “It doesn’t work that way with random victims. You kill strangers, and they’re doomed to walk the earth until you die. If the werewolf is close to his victim, if they share a very close bond, then that’s where the choice comes in. I don’t make the rules, Davey.”

“It still doesn’t make sense.”

“Doesn’t have to. It just is.”

“So you stayed. Because you wanted to.”

Jack nodded.

David shifted about, looking away to stare out of the bay windows. He could see a light mist of fog roiling about beyond them. “Jesus, Jack. What the fuck’s wrong with you? You could’ve been in heaven or something, but you didn’t go because of me? Jesus!”

Jack hung his head. “Not heaven, exactly, but I’d have gone on to the next emanation. Or whatever it is. At least I think so.” He leaned on the back of the sofa. “I just wouldn’t be stuck here, like this.”

“Same question, then,” David persisted. “Why?”

“You know why.”

“I do?”

Jack nodded. “Don’t make me say it. Not like this.”

David turned Jack’s head to him. “If you won’t say it, then I will.” He stretched up and kissed Jack deeply. “Love you, man.”

“Ah, fuck,” Jack replied.

“C’mon,” David said, pulling himself from the sofa and standing up. “Move it, Goodman, okay?”

Jack blinked in confusion.

David thrust his hand out. “Gimme your hand.”

Jack nodded and allowed David to pull him from the sofa. David led him down and through the short, dark hallway and into the flat’s tiny bathroom. David shut the door, taking care to lock it securely. He reached for the light switch, but Jack lunged forward and stayed his hand.

“No, don’t.”

“Jacky, I don’t care. I’ve seen you. Now.”

Jack shook his head and squeezed David’s hand. “I care. I want you to remember me the way I was. That way, when we meet in the hereafter, that’s how I’ll be.”

David pulled a face. “Man, where do you come up with that stuff?”

Jack waved a withered hand. “Forget it. There’s enough light in here.” He gestured to the bright moonlight washing in through the high, narrow window over the tub. He then stepped forward, embracing David firmly and kissing him with abandon.

David responded to the kiss in kind, not caring at how loose and strange Jack’s flesh felt beneath his hands. All that mattered was that it was his best friend, and this would most likely be the last time they’d be together.

Ever.

He slowly walked them the few steps to the large clawfoot tub. Breaking their kiss, he leaned down and twirled each of the taps.

“What the hell?” Jack asked warily.

“We’re gonna get you cleaned up, that’s what.”

“Davey,” Jack protested.

“Shut up, dickwad,” David replied, deftly unbuttoning Jack’s blood-stained jeans. “Why’re you still wearing the stuff you died in and not what they buried you in?”

Jack snorted. “Dunno. Just the way it is, I guess,” he said, steadying himself on David’s shoulders. “Not like there’s an information booth or pamphlet or anything.”

David shoved down Jack’s jeans and knelt on the cool tile, running his hands along Jack’s hips and thighs. Jack’s cock twitched, slowly hardening.

“Nice to see that still works,” David observed wryly, involuntarily wrinkling his nose at Jack’s rather strong odour. “Let’s get you in that shower.”

Jack stepped out of his jeans and climbed into the tub. David followed, yanking the shower curtain closed behind them. He reached down and held his hands under the gush of water, twiddling the taps and regulating the water’s temperature. With a satisfied grunt, he pushed on the stubby lever, and water squirted from the showerhead.

Jack gasped as the stream of water hit his skin. “Damn, I’d already forgotten how good this felt”

David stepped toward his friend, on hand on Jack’s hip and the other grabbing a bar of soap from the holder. “Just hang out, Jacky. Let me,” he breathed, lathering the soap in both hands. He gently placed both hands on Jack’s shoulders and switched their positions, so that Jack’s head was directly under the warm stream of water.

“Damn, Davey,” Jack sighed as the water began to wash away the gobs of mud and blood and gore. “This is fucking fantastic.”

David ran his soapy hands all through Jack’s hair, slowly moving down his head and shoulders. He worked the lather all about Jack’s chest, taking extra care to avoid the huge gashes there.

“Here, let me,” Jack said, taking the soap from David and rubbing it in his own hands.

David pressed closer, his cock once again hard. He caressed Jack’s shoulders as Jack deftly worked his lathered hands all about his ass and privates. Alex’ soap smelled wonderful, fresh and clean and not at all girly. David ghosted his fingers across the rents in the flesh of Jack’s left pectoral. The water had washed all of the blood away, and the gouges didn’t look half bad, really.

David looked up, and Jack had turned his head to the left. He looks normal, alive, as long as he turns his head that way, he thought, reaching up to touch Jack’s chin. He felt Jack’s arousal brushing against his own.

“Love you, man,” David breathed.

Jack faced him, his dark hair now plastered to his forehead. “Me too,” he replied, grinning widely.

David decided to ignore the grayish-green tint to Jack’s flesh, the torn skin, the open, unbelievable rent that graced the entire left side of Jack’s mouth, leaving his gums and teeth there forever exposed.

Other than that, he was still Jack, his best friend.

“Feel better?”

Jack nodded. “You’ve no idea.”

“Great,” David replied. He knelt down, kissing his way over Jack’s lightly furred abdomen. He gripped Jack’s ass tightly, nuzzling Jack’s nicely hard cock with his nose. He then swirled his tongue about the head of Jack’s prick, quickly taking the entire length and swallowing it to the root, warm streams of water rolling down over him.

Jack bucked wildly, moaning with satisfaction as David squeezed and pulled at his balls.

“Damn, Davey,” Jack groaned, steadying himself against the tiled wall. “Feels so fucking good.”

David sucked harder, the index finger of one hand teasing the crevice of Jack’s ass.

Jack began to babble incoherently, thrusting his hips back and forth, slowly at first, but gradually picking up speed.

David increased the speed of his ministrations to Jack‘s dick, pausing to swirl his tongue about the tip of it at the peak of each upstroke. He teased Jack’s entrance with his fingertip, and Jack jumped and gasped.

“Shit,” Jack groaned. “Feels too damn good.”

David quickly released Jack’s cock. “That’s the point.”

Emboldened, David immediately thrust his finger through Jack’s tight ring of muscle. He paused a few moments before slipping a second finger into Jack’s cool hole. Jack growled, a deep, odd, sound, and David nibbled at the slack but firm flesh of Jack’s stomach.

“Want you,” Jack panted. “Fuck me, now!”

With a final swipe of his tongue to the head of Jack’s cock, David stood up, mashing his lips to Jack’s ruined ones. He kissed Jack savagely for a moment, finding the sensation of some of Jack’s flesh falling away as they kissed oddly stimulating. He pulled away, grinning madly. Jack returned the expression, his nearly black tongue licking the remains of his lips in the most obscene manner possible.

David growled and turned Jack about, the water from the showerhead coursing down Jack’s still perfect back.

Jack braced himself against the tile, his voice deep and guttural. “Do it,” was all he said.

David grabbed the bottle of Alex’ hair conditioner and squeezed a generous dollop into the palm of his hand. Replacing the bottle to its tiny ledge, he then slathered most of it all along the crack of Jack’s ass, working the rest along the length of his now aching erection. He and Jack had fucked more than a few times, but never like this. In a shower, anyway.

Jack spread his legs obligingly, and David pressed the head of his cock against Jack’s entrance. He then thrust himself inside his friend, burying himself until his balls pressed against Jack’s ass cheeks. Jack yowled loudly, far too loudly to be ignored, but David began pumping forcefully anyway.

Jack arched his back, and David leaned forward into the spray of water, suckling and nibbling at the base of Jack’s neck. Jack moaned and grunted with each and every thrust, and David reached around, his fingers closing about Jack’s erect cock.

“Please,” Jack mewled.

David wrapped his free arm about Jack’s chest and continued to bury his cock into Jack. He laid his head against Jack’s shoulders, closing his eyes and revelling in the sensations of the warm water coursing between them, the steam, the scent of the soap and conditioner, the slickness of soapy skin against soapy skin.

“Shit,” he murmured, abruptly ceasing his thrusts as he emptied his release into Jack. He felt Jack clench tightly about his cock, as if somehow willing them to remain joined. Nearly forgetting Jack’s need, David restarted his stroking of Jack’s dick.

“Unnnnhhnhh,” Jack mumbled, his body jerking as his cock pumped his release into David’s hand.

David pulled out, turning and leaning against the wall. Jack turned about, grinning widely, grabbing the soap and lathering it up again. David gasped as Jack washed off his spent prick, and he ran his hands through Jack’s wet mop of hair.

Jack chuckled as he soaped up his ass once more, rinsing off and finally turning about to kill the shower and turn off the taps. He looked up to face David, and the pair stood there, dripping wet, sated, staring, for many long minutes.

David spoke first, his finger tracing a line along Jack’s ruined jaw.

“Pretty good for a corpse,” he said with a wry grin.

Jack chuckled. “Well, thanks.” He blinked shyly, brushing his wet bangs away from his face. “Not so bad yourself, for a werewolf.”

David nodded, chuckling mirthlessly. He gazed at Jack, barely containing a gasp. With all the mud and blood washed away, and even in the dim light of the bathroom, Jack looked more pallid and green than ever. What the hell had Jack done? And why? How could he have willingly chosen this?

“You know why, Davey,” Jack said with a crooked grin. “You know.” Without another word, he stepped through the shower curtain and out of the tub. David followed him, grabbing a pair of towels and tossing one to Jack, who stood naked in the doorway. They dried themselves off in silence, David mesmerized at how carefully Jack patted and dabbed at his apparently delicate and decaying flesh.

Jack finished first, dropping his towel to the floor and walking away into the sitting room. David picked up the towel, dropping it and his into Alex’ hamper. He then carefully retrieved his duffle from Alex’ room, carrying it into the sitting room and dumping it on the sofa.

Jack was standing there, staring out of the expansive bay windows. David rooted about in the duffel, extracting two pairs of jeans. He tossed the more worn of the two at Jack, who caught them without even turning or looking.

“Thanks,” Jack replied in a near whisper, quickly pulling the jeans on.

“Those are yours,” David said, hopping about as he yanked up his own tight denims. “Must’ve gotten mixed up with mine before we ended up in East Proctor.”

Jack turned around, nothing but a silhouette against the relatively brighter moonlight outside the windows. He simply stood there, silent, as dead as the shadows surrounding him.

David shrugged into a t-shirt, grabbing another and slowly padding to where Jack stood. “Here,” he said softly.

Jack took the shirt, pausing for a moment that might have stretched into eternity. He slipped it on and sighed.

David reached out, pushing Jack’s bangs away from his face.

“Nothing can stop this,” Jack said. “I’ll keep rotting. Falling apart. I can feel it, you know? It doesn’t hurt, really, but I don’t like it.”

“Shit, Jack, I wish there was something I could do.”

Jack snorted. “Did you mean what you said?”

David nodded. “Yeah, of course.”

Jack stepped close, on hand on David’s hip, the other caressing his cheek. “Then you know what needs to be done. You can stop this. If you really love me, then you’ll take your own life.”

“Jack,” David began.

Jack gripped David’s chin forcefully. “Do you want anyone else to go through this?” He then reached up and pulled away a section of his ruined cheek. “I’m not enjoying myself, here. And anyone that you murder, while a werewolf, will suffer the same fate. No choice for them, remember?” He tossed the hunk of flesh away. “My fate, David. You don’t want that on your soul, do you?”

David shook his head but remained silent.

Jack snorted and stepped away. “You’re not going to do it, are you?”

“I don’t know...”

“Asshole! After all I’ve said. After all I’ve gone through to warn you. I don‘t fucking believe you!”

“Keep it down!” David looked away and stared at the ridiculous figurine of Mickey Mouse on Alex’ coffee table. He felt Jack’s cold fingers clamp onto his shoulder.

“So be it then, buddy. Tomorrow night, under the full moon, you’ll kill people. Innocent strangers. Maybe children, even.”

“Jack, stop,” David said, wrenching away and flopping down on the sofa.

“You’ll rip them apart and then eat their still warm flesh, David, and you’ll love it.”

“No, no, no,” David moaned, his head in his hands.

Jack advanced upon him, his voice now harsh and deep, scratchy and gurgling. “You’ll hunt and kill and kill some more until dawn. And you’ll do it for three nights every month. You’ll make others like me.”

“No, please, I can’t...I don’t want to...” David whimpered, ears filling his eyes.

Jack knelt down before him. “You can’t stop the wolf. The only thing you can do is to stop you. Kill yourself.” He caressed the side of David’s head. “If you really, truly love me, that’s what you’ll do.”

David leaned into Jack’s hand, his voice thin, wavering. “I do love you, Jack. You know it.”

Jack sniffled. “Then release me. Save countless others. Save Alex.” He left a chaste kiss on David’s forehead and stood up. “When you do it, I’ll be there, waiting, on the other side. That’s a promise.”

David looked up as Jack walked toward the big bay windows. He watched as his friend grinned sadly back at him, slowly fading away into nothingness.


~~~~~~


Alex woke up with a start, frantically gazing about her bedroom. The dull, grey light of dawn filtered lazily through her curtains. She’d been certain someone had been right there, touching her, but no one else was in the room. She felt the mattress next to her.

It was cold.

“Shite,” she muttered, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and pulling on her slippers.

She walked into the sitting room, unsurprised to find David there, sitting stock still on the sofa and gazing blankly out the front windows. She stepped right behind him, but he didn’t move at all. She hesitantly reached out, carefully laying her hand on his shoulder. Still he didn’t show any sign that he knew she was there. She squeezed his shoulder, gently but firmly. “David?”

Seconds stretched into minutes, and she was about to say his name again when David finally spoke.

“Everything’s better in the daylight, isn’t it?” He looked up at her, his face pale and drawn from lack of sleep. “No moon, no shadows, nothing moving around and talking when it shouldn’t be.”

Alex moved around the sofa, sitting close to him and clasping his big hands in her own. “You didn’t sleep at all, did you?”

David lowered his head. “No. Jack kept me up all night.”

“Oh, David...”

“He said I should kill myself.”

Alex squeezed his hands. Hard. “That’s it.” She jumped up and strode over to her telephone. “I’m ringing Dr. Hirsch right now. And we’ll go see him straight away, and he’ll know just what to do.” She dialed with shaky fingers, and while she waited for the hospital operator to connect her, she glanced over at David. He was holding her Mickey Mouse figure, turning it over and over in his hands. “Everything’s going to work out, you’ll see,” she said with as much conviction as she could muster. “That’s a promise.”

David chuckled. “That’s exactly what Jack said.”

Alex shuddered as the phone clicked and a male voice answered on the other end. “Dr. Hirsch? It’s Alex Price. I need to speak to you about David.”


~~~ fin ~~~


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