Written for: The smallfandomfest community on livejournal for the prompt The Lost Boys, Star/Maria, human contact
Maria tastes like the ocean, brine and seaweed and sand, as if she’s basted herself in it just for this moment, as if she follows the sun into the water when it sets, and floats in the waves all night.
She fists her hands in Star’s hair, knots the curls into a frizzy, tangled mess, and presses Star’s face tight against her body, tight against her breasts, tight between her legs. She’s long limbed and limber, and she spreads herself open for Star, opens her mouth and her arms and the lips of her vagina.
Star presses her tongue to Maria’s clit and wishes she was tasting blood.
Star looks up. She’s been staring so hard at the row of movies she didn’t notice the others leave, or the counter girl walk over, but she’s standing right there next to her. This is bad.
“Hi.” She looks at her in quick little glances. The girl is pretty, and young, and probably sweet. All things Star was, once. This is really, really bad.
“You come in here with those bikers, don’t you?” She smiles. “I’m Maria.”
“Star.” Her tongue is tied, and she doesn’t know why. It’s not like she’s never talked to a girl before, it’s not like no one has ever thought she was a good way to approach the boys. They’re attractive guys, if you don’t know. Of course girls like them.
“That’s a pretty name.” Maria’s smile is gentle. “It fits you. You kind of,” she gestures vaguely at Star’s tank top and spangled skirt, “shine.”
The silence stretches between them. Star reaches out, plucks a video from the shelf at random, and pretends to read the back. They don’t have a television in the cave. Most days they don’t even have electricity. It’s just a cover, pretending to want to rent something, pretending to be human.
“It’s pretty good.”
Maria startles her and Star drops the box. It tumbles from her fingertips, lands on the floor at her feet. They both bend down to grab it, but Maria gets there first. She hands it over as soon as they straighten up, and her fingers brush across Star’s.
“The movie,” she says, “it’s pretty good. If you haven’t seen it.”
“No, I haven’t.” Star sets it back on the shelf, curls her hand closed. She wants to remember that feeling, that human touch, for as long as she can. If she can get away from the others, if she can get them to leave her alone, she’ll tuck her fingers into her mouth, into her cunt, and pretend she’s still a normal girl with normal girl crushes and normal girl touches and normal girl needs. “Thanks.”
“I get off work soon,” Maria says, and her voice is quiet. She ducks her head, and slips her hands into her pockets. “Do you want to go get some food? I know this great place, it’s just off the Boardwalk….”
She trails off, probably waiting for encouragement, but Star, very intently, doesn’t look at her.
“I just thought, you know, it might be fun,” Maria says at last. “I’d better get back to work, I have to balance the drawer before Max comes in.”
Star nods, and Maria goes back behind the counter.
She should walk away. She should run out the door and never, ever return.
Instead, she waits, and when Maria turns the till over to Max, she catches her at the door to the back room.
“I’d like to get food,” Star says. She’s hungry, she’s starving herself. She doesn’t know what restaurant Maria likes, but it doesn’t matter, it won’t have what she needs. Maria’s smile is close, though, and the way she touches Star’s arm before she goes to grab her coat even more so.
California is cold in the winter.
Star still doesn’t believe it. She wants to blame the changed blood flowing through her veins, the way David has mutated and twisted her body into something new, something monstrous. Of course she’s cold, she has no life.
Except it really is cold, because Maria layers her clothes and cuddles up to Star for warmth whenever they go on rides together, which is often. Maria likes to play tourist, likes to ride the Giant Dipper and throw back her head and scream for the joy of it all.
Star thinks, once, she would probably love to fly.
Right after, she decides to stay away from Maria, because she shouldn’t have such thoughts, it’s too dangerous. If David thinks she has a weakness, he’ll use her – Maria, perhaps, or Star, she’s not sure which is most likely – to create more chaos. He’ll use her as a temptation.
Then, she catches sight of Maria walking towards her, holding a flower, and smiling, and Star is weak.
Maria kisses Star for the first time on the carousel.
“It was built in 1911,” Maria says. She’s holding Star’s hand, and they’re sitting in one of the two Roman chariots. It’s late, all the families are gone, and only the teenagers and adults who wish they were still teenagers are left. “The organ has three hundred and forty-two pipes.”
“You’re so strange,” Star says, and squeezes Maria’s hand. “How do you know all this?”
Maria shrugs. “I like to read. Books, travel brochures, palms.” She grins at the last, turns Star’s hand over, and traces the lines in her skin. “I see romance in your future.” She looks up at Star, the dark curls of her hair falling in her face, and there’s something flirty and yet still innocent in her expression.
“Do you?” Star tilts her head back. She can’t see the stars overhead, the carousel is covered and the Boardwalk is almost too bright anyway, but she knows they’re there. She can almost feel them, pulsing energy, and the moon reflecting the sun, she’s become so intimate with the night.
“Yes.” Maria kisses the center of her palm, and then, when Star looks down at her, lifts her head and presses their mouths together.
It’s rough and awkward and absolutely wonderful.
After she comes, Maria stretches out in Star’s arms, her head against her shoulder. Their clothes are all messed up, skirts tangled together, shirts askew. Maria is sweating, but Star is as chilled as ever.
Maria listens to the waves, and Star to Maria’s heartbeat. She can hear it, underneath any other noise, and she’s memorized the sound, the rhythm, the speed during different moods.
She thinks this might be love, at least to a vampire. She’s thirsty, always, but doesn’t drink.
This is it, this is the last time.
David’s not stupid, he knows something’s going on. She’s seen him bring the boys into the video shop more often these nights. At first she thought maybe he was hunting Max, the owner, but he’s an old man, a nice man, and he only runs them off when they start to scare his customers.
Sure, that’s likely enough of a reason for David to kill him, but mostly he only kills transients, runaways – like Star – who won’t be missed. Not much. Once in awhile someone will piss him off and he’ll mark them, but mostly not.
So it must be Maria. He’s going to tell Star to make her her first kill, and she absolutely refuses.
She’ll find someone else. Some anonymous boy on the Boardwalk. She’ll keep David away from Maria, whatever it takes.
Even if it breaks her heart.
Even if it breaks Maria’s.
She kisses her, one last time. Maria tastes like the ocean, like the beach, like the Boardwalk, like all the good parts of Santa Carla. Her kisses plague Star, and she expects her lips to blister.
Maria tastes like the sun.