Dark Requiem [malexmale]

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

"We're going to the beach."

I looked up from my spot knelt in the garden, my hands buried in the soil where I'd been planting a new flower. Michael stood over me, his arms folded over his chest, the sun making his golden hair glimmer. He definitely wasn't dressed for the beach in a pair of black slacks, a button up white shirt and a glossy reddish brown tie tucked into a black vest.

I sat back on my haunches, brushing the dirt off my hands before looking up at him again to see if he was joking, but those piercing blue eyes said otherwise. I wasn't sure what to say in response, of course, considering the last thing we'd done together had been my sucking him off in the kitchen last night and since then, he'd not said a word to me.

He still appeared angry too, judging from that nasty glare and tense posture. So everything about him seemed at odds with let's go to the beach. So I raised an eyebrow.

"The beach?" I asked, just to make sure I hadn't gotten heat stroke in the sun. Ever since Alaric's visit last night, I hadn't felt the coldness in my chest, my veins, nothing. It'd been nice. I didn't even have to wear a shirt this afternoon it was so warm.

"Yes," Michael said, looking peeved, "I want to see what it looks like." I frowned.

"You've never seen a beach before?" I asked. Michael's glare intensified.

"Heaven has no beaches."

"Okay," I said, dragging the word out slowly and rising to my feet, making Michael take a step back so I wasn't practically on top of him, "Well, if you want to go to the beach, you can't go in that." Michael frowned, then looked down at his clothing, then back up at me.

"Why not?" He demanded, clearly offended. I sighed, brushing dirt off my pants before going to the bench where I'd set my water bottle down. I took a few deep gulps, then gave up on the hydration and poured it on top of my head, relieved by the cool water rushing through my hair and over my face.

Maybe a visit to the public beaches wouldn't be so bad. This heat was a little suffocating. The fact that Michael could stand there with long pants and a long shirt, in layers, amazed me.

"It's just not what you wear to a beach," I responded patiently, setting the bottle back down, "We'll have to go find something for you to wear. Just give me a second to shower up and change." Michael scowled, but didn't protest as I went inside and hopped in the shower to rinse off before throwing on a pair of olive green shorts and a black tank top before I tied my hair back and came out to the dining room to see Michael sitting down, one leg folded elegantly over the other.

And I immediately remembered him sitting that way in front of me when I was on the floor, licking the leftover taste of him off my lips. My mouth watered at the memory, my shorts tightening and I squeezed my eyes shut to try and block the image out, but that only made it worse, so I cleared my throat and just walked into the room, making Michael look up.

He still looked peeved. I had no idea why he would want to go out with me after he threw such a fit last night. We still hadn't talked about it at all, nor had we spoken about my head injury. I'd ask, but Michael seemed about as willing to have a conversation as he would to open his legs for me.

Another image I seriously did not need right now.

From my home on the other side of the island, we teleported to the mall in the middle of the downtown area. Filled to the brim with tourists, the place was crowded as hell with people decked out in shorts and tank tops, flimsy dresses, bikinis, anything to keep cool in the heat. Most were making their way quickly to the nearest shop for some air conditioning. Even the bricked streets were searing hot on someone's bare feet.