California Zephyr Ch. 01

"I wrote this story for a friend in the States who wanted a Vampire tale just for himself. Marc was the same age as me at the time I wrote this story. (ie: 33) Rayne views him as the "Boy" because he's about 48 years old by this time, although he has not aged past his 30th birthday.

"My friend is no longer with us, but the story survives him. This is for Marcie. God Bless... xxx J"

CALIFORNIA ZEPHYR an observation in three parts

by Josh & Sadie Rose

NOTE: "No part of this story may be used or re-published without the prior permission of Josh or Sadie. Violence will be meted out to those who transgress!" *grr*

Chapter One: BOY ON A TRAIN

The Vampire tapped idly at the keys on his laptop, pretending to be engrossed in whatever he was doing... or, at least, not appear to be obviously doing nothing more challenging than play Minesweeper whilst he watched the guy in the berth opposite. What had begun as an intriguing challenge, to come out here and write a column on his travels in the States for Grant Jackson's 'Zipped' magazine was rapidly turning into a series of featureless rail and bus journeys which made touring his band, Whipsnade, look like a cakewalk by comparison. He was tired and ill humoured and if it hadn't been for the fact that the guy across the aisle was as cute as hell he would have sloped off into the corridor for a cigarette several millennia ago! Having blown himself up for the hundredth time he yawned and dropped the lid on his machine in despair... gazing at his reflection in the window as they thundered into a tunnel and were plunged into darkness for a time.

He had been staring at the centre of his universe in the darkened glass for a minute or so when he realised that the reflection of the dark-haired guy on the other side of the carriage was watching him via the medium of the window. Frowning slightly, he sat straighter, then looked around. The young man's head jerked away automatically, and for a few moments he seemed briefly absorbed in trying to read his own palms. In spite of himself, Rayne let a smile twist his full, pale lips and he leaned back in his seat letting his eyelids fall half-shut, watching the watcher through the veil of his lashes.

For effect, he stretched and snuggled down, feigning sleep. Now he sensed a definite prickle of interest, like delicate claws pulling across his scalp beneath his hair. The young man's emerald eyes slid sideways, discreetly and he began to chew on his thumbnail self-consciously; looking, but trying not to look obvious about it. Rayne tilted his cheek against his shoulder and actually drifted for a moment or two, he was so tired. When the train began to slow down, making its next approach, he was jolted into wakefulness again.

The kid was rummaging through his bag for something but Rayne could not tell if he was planning to alight here. He hoped not, sincerely. Even if only for the want of something to write about.

At last the lad pulled a battered paperback from his holdall and wriggled to his feet, stowing the bag back in the rack overhead. He was around medium height, Rayne figured, perhaps in his early to mid twenties, quite lightly made under the layers of clothing which shrouded him; loose t-shirt, fine-knit sweater and open shirt over his dark jeans. Loose, dark hair tumbled around his face as he curled around his book, snuggled against the window with one foot drawn up under him. Now, as Rayne watched idly through his eyelashes, the boy fished an earphone from the neckline of his sweater and tucked it into his left ear, thumbing a button invisible at his waist beneath his clothing.

His large, dark, expressive eyes moved upward once over the top of the paperback in his hands, glancing in Rayne's direction. In response, the singer stretched himself again, and yawned with exaggerated weariness. The artless motion drew up the fine, deep blue acetate of his shirt revealing a brief glimpse of flat belly and sharp hipbones between hem and belt-loops. Rayne did not miss the fact that the boy's eyes shifted down to his midriff and a small, private smile touched his own generous mouth as he pretended to read again.

The Vampire turned his head away and gazed out of the window at Princeton station watching people hurrying back and forth on the platform, pushing trolleys or dragging trunks, scurrying like so many ants to make their connection. Once the Amtrak express was on it's way again, a little fuller than before, he pushed himself to his feet secure in the knowledge that the pretty boy wasn't going anywhere. There was a large guy sitting in the lounge car seat between them now... managing to take up nearly a place and a half, with his equally massive, disturbingly floral wife parked across the table from him. His bulk virtually dwarfed the slender kid by the window, who seemed to curl up even tighter to get away from these giants. Everything about them was vast... down to their voices, which boomed emphatically in an irritating, Texan drawl, which reminded him annoyingly of JR Ewing in Dallas. They had travelled up from Austin via St.Louis to see their son who was at college in Princeton. And seemed to feel the need for the entire car to know about this. Now they were headed out to Salt Lake City to see their daughter and her family.

Rayne felt sorry for her. After all, she had gone to so much trouble to escape in the first place, what with putting a virtual continent between herself and her parents... He shook his head incredulously.

The Vampire needed air... and he needed nicotine more. Slipping into the aisle, he made his way back up the car to the entryway and leaned against the door there, with the window lowered, feeling the hot wind blow through his hair. It felt delicious after the stifling warmth of the carriage. He lit a cigarette from the pack of B&H in his jeans pocket... remnants of his dwindling duty-free allowance, and leaned on the sill, sucking in the smoke gratefully, feeling his senses gradually stop prickling as the nicotine rush did it's work.

"That's not allowed... and it's not good for you anyway," said a low, softly-accented voice behind him and he turned with a guilty start expecting the guard. The wind rushing past his ears had snatched away the sound of the interior door opening and closing and now he blinked at the long-haired boy from the carriage almost owlishly as the kid leaned past him to tap the No Smoking sticker (thoughtfully provided in French and English) pasted over the entryway.

"Right... yeah!" Rayne laughed cynically and took another long drag on the crumpled cigarette between his fingers.

The young man worried his lower lip between his teeth and looked down, suddenly bashful.

"Sorry... it's none of my business really."

"Uh... no. I mean... well, yeah!" Rayne shook his head, still somehow surprised that the boy was American. He had somehow convinced himself that you had to be a European to look as good as he did right now without actually 'trying'. "It isn't good for me, I guess. But it makes me 'feel' a whole lot better!"

Dark green eyes, with a flicker of gold somewhere deep inside, moved briefly back to his face and the kid forced a wan smile. Rayne's expression solemnified for a moment. Something in that look told him that the boy was not as young as he had first thought. Maybe closer to his own age, even. He 'was' extremely pretty; with sharp, delicate features and long, fine, almost feminine hair that waved slightly, cutting in around the line of his jaw then curling out again over his slim shoulders.

Coyly, he glanced towards the closed door of the bathroom now.

"Are you waiting?"

Rayne shook his head and drew on the filter of his cigarette one last time before tapping it out against the wall. His companion nodded in silent acknowledgement but did not move to try the door.

"I think it's empty," Rayne told him at last.

"Oh... right." Another nod. He did not move, save swaying slightly with the motion of the train. "I don't really need it..."

His gaze moved back up to Rayne's face, almost searchingly.

"Are you okay?" the Vampire asked, suddenly solicitous. He thought the kid looked rather pale.

Nod.

"Can I get you anything?"

A little shake of the head was his only immediate answer.

"You look sort of... um..." Rayne groped for a word. Gorgeous.. his mind supplied mischievously.

"I just needed some space." His companion glanced at him defensively. "They're gonna drive me crazy... Mr and Mrs Austin, Texas!!!"

Rayne managed a sympathetic smile. "You're going all the way to Frisco?"

"Uh-huh.." The kid hardly looked overjoyed at the prospect.

Rayne Wylde weighed his next suggestion fairly carefully before launching it. "You can sit across from me, if you like. The seats aren't taken... and I don't think there's a reservation on them."

For a moment, the boy just bent his head in silence and the Vampire worried that he had been scared off. He raised his hands apologetically.

"Look... I know you'd still be able to 'hear' them..."

"I'd love to," the boy said quietly before he could finish.

Rayne closed his mouth and counted mentally; 'Four, three, two, one....'

"You 'would'?"

The answering smile bordered between shy and sceptical. "Sure... You know, I 'did' see you looking me over before!"

Rayne met his eyes with a serious little smile of his own. "Oh yeah... And you weren't checking me out just as closely, huh?"

"Maybe..." The young man pursed his lips thoughtfully.

"What's your name?"

Melting emerald eyes flickered up to his face again. The look was defensive, but also challenging.

"Marc..." he said levelly. A little pause weighted the word, then he added; "With a 'c'."

Rayne's mouth quirked and the expression on Marc's face dared him to openly deride this. At last, the singer held out his hand. "Hiya Marc, with a 'c'. I'm Rayne... with an 'R'.. and a 'y'!"

"I know." Marc said it so softly that the clatter of iron-shod wheels on the tracks and the rushing of air through the train's slipstream virtually swept his words away.

"You 'do'?" Rayne was genuinely surprised. In the UK and certain parts of Europe and the Far East he still expected recognition, but America afforded him a rare degree of anonymity due to the fact that Whipsnade had never been a major stadium band in the States. The US following was small and selective rather than insane and all embracing.

"I have a few of your CDs." Marc's smile was brittle; almost painful in its embarrassment.

"Wow..." Rayne grinned reassuringly, then worried that he merely looked like a dangerous lunatic. "And you're still talking to me! I'm touched."

The young man looked down and the tip of his tongue flickered between his lips, moistening them.

"I've never met a famous rock-star before," he murmured.

"You still haven't," Rayne pointed out, leaning more casually against the rocking partition of the car. "Whipsnade split nearly three years ago. I'm a not-so-famous travel writer now."

Dark green eyes lifted to meet his own, mildly intrigued. A small frown creased the mortal's brow under his tangled hair.

"That's what you're doing here?"

"Yeah..." Rayne nodded. "I got a commission to write an article about travelling the US by Amtrak."

Marc's smile quickened. "Oh my, and I thought you were just playing Minesweeper!"

The sudden mischief in his eyes told Rayne at once that this was no raw kid. He was dealing with a contemporary. Now that the initial shock of meeting him had passed, so did much of Marc's shyness. Rayne found himself feeling glad. It was easy enough to seduce and fuck some starstruck youngster, but these days the Vampire was hungry for rather more than that. Since leaving London, he had been starved of regular companionship. Maybe Marc was even someone he could talk to.

It also occurred to him that if the young man had not come out here to use the bathroom and did not smoke, then he too was plotting a strategic seduction. Rayne was impressed, and also quite aroused by the idea. Up this close, his fellow traveller was remarkably pretty; possessed of the kind of lean, boyish body, under all those clothes, that he found stimulating in both sexes.

Marc's expression sobered slightly and the Vampire realised that something was wrong. Then figured that he had been standing here staring at the kid since his last comment. Marc could hardly be blamed under the circumstances for imagining that his companion was maybe a little moonstruck. It did not help either that Rayne was growing increasingly conscious of the erection pressing against the flyer of his denim hipsters. He had no way of hiding the fact that he was intensely attracted to this guy; his shirt stopped short of the buttons of his skin-tight jeans and if he got much stiffer he was risking indecency.

In an attempt to preserve some dignity, he forced a hand into his front pocket and made a casual half-turn back towards the window. Clearing his throat, he wracked his brain for Marc's last words.

"Oh my," the young mortal said again, very softly, close to his ear. Rayne turned his head and found himself looking directly into that creamy-pale visage. He could smell the boy's fine, bronze-coloured hair and virtually taste him, they were so near to one another. Marc's emerald gaze lowered, behind long, dark lashes and when his eyes lifted from the bulge of the Vampire's crotch to meet Rayne's acid-lime stare he licked his lips again and whispered; "Do you need some help with 'that'?"

Rayne reacted by pure instinct. One hand propelled Marc un-gently towards the door of the restroom and the other was already deftly unbuttoning his fly well before the latch clicked behind him. Freed from the crushing constraint of his denims, he turned and wrapped his arms around the slender neck of the beautiful young mortal, pushing his companion up hard against the washstand as he pulled Marc's lips hungrily down onto his own. Standing together like this he was conscious that the other man was slightly taller. Not so much, though, that he could not press his hips up firmly against his lover's groin, letting the guy know exactly how horny he was feeling.

Marc's tongue flickered between his own lips now as they kissed like starving creatures, feeding on one anothers' lust. The mortal's gentle hand eased determinedly beneath Rayne's shirt, stroking the sleek, hairless flesh of his firm, flat belly, then slipping boldly lower to handle the ready stiffness of the Vampire's sex. Rayne gasped almost soundlessly into his lover's open mouth as the boy's fingers closed tight around the shaft of his cock and wanked him vigorously.

He let his lips wander to the boy's ear, burying his face in the softness of Marc's long fine hair as he breathed; "And I figured you were 'shy'!"

The young man's tongue explored his own ear.

"Touch me," Marc insisted at last, equally breathless, dispelling any remaining doubts about his boldness.

Rayne eased a long, cool hand beneath the layers of clothing and found his belt-buckle, quickly tugging it undone and unfastening the flyer of his jeans with urgent fingers. Marc caught his breath and his grip on Rayne's prick tightened for a moment as the Vampire's cold fingers entered his shorts and cupped his balls, squeezing briefly, then sliding back along the shaft of his cock, rubbing him steadily, eliciting a little; "Ohhh..." from the boy's lips.

"Is that good?" he murmured unnecessarily.

"Ohhh..." Marc sighed, and nodded quickly. "Yes!"

Rayne kissed him again and sank slowly to his knees, pushing up layer after layer of material to apply his lips to the warm skin beneath. He closed his eyes for a moment, lost in a heavenly reverie. Marc's young, mortal body had the most wonderful aroma to him; hot with blood and life and deeply sensual. The Vampire inhaled the fabulous, tantalising scent of him and lost himself in the vibrant feel of living flesh. Since leaving London he had been virtually celibate, apart from an astonishing, rapid-fire fuck with a muscular young baggage handler in the loading bays at la Guardia. From the moment he boarded the train in New York he had been mainly surrounded by wealthy suburbanites travelling for travel's sake, disinterested in experience; untouched by passion or impulsiveness. They were people jaded by life. He supposed that it was not a surprise in view of the price of his sleeper tickets but even so... the lack of individuality had disturbed him, until today.

The boy had joined his train in Chicago, about two and half hours ago. He might have been an artist, or a student or anything really, and right now Rayne Wylde did not care. His luck had turned. The kid was pretty and he was willing. More than willing... his body language currently suggested that he was hungry as well.

The Vampire's lips parted around the head of his cock and he swallowed Marc into him greedily. Giving head always aroused him and this was no exception. Somewhere up above him he heard the boy utter a strangled sound and long fingers tangled in his hair, pulling at him, urging him on. Rayne nuzzled against the softness of his lover's belly and groin and sucked long and hard, gently pulling Marc's pants to mid-thigh and caressing his slender legs encouragingly. He pressed his face into the dark curls of the boy's groin and reached down to stroke himself with the left hand as the first and second fingers of his right teasingly insinuated themselves between the perfect, firm cheeks of his fellow traveller's arse, probing experimentally until his partner was arcing forward, pushing deep into his mouth and uttering tremulous little cries of longing.

Rayne paced himself. Long before the boy felt ready to come, he pushed himself back to his feet, ignoring the little whimper of protest which this provoked and pressed his lips to Marc's quickly and roughly to silence him.

"Oh my..." the lad whispered in a shaken undertone when Rayne drew back to look him up and down appreciatively.

"That's nothing."

"No... I mean... yes..." The young guy looked back at him in virtual desperation.

"You know what I want now," Rayne said, very softly, keeping his tone as light as possible.

A nod was his answer. Marc lowered his head and a little colour touched his pale cheeks. Rayne smiled grimly.

"You okay?"

Another nod. Then the kid whispered; "I wouldn't normally.... I mean..."

"Sshhh... it doesn't matter." Rayne enfolded him again and kissed the tip of his nose, then his mouth, quickly. "You are so fucking gorgeous... d'you know that?"

"This is... this is..." Marc shook his head uncertainly.

"'Amazing'," Rayne finished for him, totally adamant. "It's amazing. You have a beautiful body."

"Uh-huh..." He sounded unconvinced.

"I want to fuck you."

Those dark green eyes widened and looked straight back into his own. Rayne met and returned the gaze adamantly.

"You knew I'd want that."

Marc nodded and murmured; "Normally... I uh..."

Rayne's eyes closed for a moment as the realisation dawned. "You wanna make the running, huh?"

Oddly enough, the idea of it quite excited him, but he was still playing it cool. This was an unexpected turn about but he supposed he had enthusiastically entertained the prospect of making out with an equal and should not have been so surprised that this little starlet had his own ideas about the game.

"Well... normally, 'I uh...' too," he replied flatly at last. "So where does that leave us, sweetheart?"

Marc's generous mouth twitched mischievously. "You wanna toss for it?"

Rayne laughed, in spite of himself. The situation was almost too ridiculous for serious contemplation.

"Where I come from that doesn't mean what you think it does," he said good-humouredly.

"Oh yes it does," Marc flashed back, grinning at him as he darted a hand between Rayne's thighs and grabbed him firmly. "C'mere..."