Habit of A Lifetime Ch. 04

"I'm sorry?" Rayne queried, shaking his head.

"Aston Villa.... The football team. That's round here somewhere!"

"Hoo-bloody-ray!" his colleague remarked sarcastically. "God, Chaz! Isn't there any way we can get off this fuckin' three-lane car park? I'm fuckin' ravenous!"

Another half an hour elapsed before they crawled within sight of junction six and the Merc pulled off the motorway, up the hard shoulder, into Perry Barr. Charley was in a fine temper by this time. He had not been deliriously happy being summoned at such short notice, on a weekend, to drive Rayne Wylde (who was currently not his favourite client) half-way round the UK. Now he was fuming privately. He stopped at a cafe - a greasy spoon if ever there was one – on the road to Market Drayton. The forecourt was a lorry park but that was the least of their worries.

Simon was concerned straight away, since Rayne (who had complained non-stop since Leamington Spa about his empty belly) now picked at his food like a sparrow on a diet. Charley devoured enough for the both of them and ignored Ray completely once they were out of the car.

"Are you all right?" the drummer asked his colleague quietly.

Rayne shrugged. "Tired... I guess. I've not slept well lately."

"I thought you were hungry?"

"I was," the other man replied flatly, without looking at him. Nevertheless, he did not eat, and kept his sunglasses on even though they were indoors.

Having downed a mug of scalding coffee, Ray pushed himself to his feet and muttered something about needing the bathroom. Simon frowned but let him go. Rayne had no idea where he was. He was hardly going to run out on them now.

RAYNE

As he left the cubicle - where he had thrown up the little food and drink he had managed to consume - Rayne Wylde's eye was taken by the young Salesman who had been sitting at the table by the window, behind their own. He was washing his hands slowly and deliberately as Rayne came over and ran the cold tap. The singer propped his shades on top of his head and splashed his cheeks and forehead with refreshingly icy water, running his wrists under the flow, lingeringly.

The dove-grey suit the other fellow wore was a little heat-rumpled, he noted. The guy was already showing signs of five-o-clock shadow (although it was not yet half past three!) but he was good-looking, in a tame, suburban sort of way. Currently, he was giving Rayne the eye, via the mirrors, as he ran the battery shaver from his briefcase over his lower jaw and the singer straightened from the basins and rubbed his face with one hand. Probably, the kid was no more than twenty three or four.

"Have I seen you somewhere before?" the young man asked in a curious accent that was half Glaswegian, (with a hint of Solihull) as Rayne turned to search for the roller towel and rubbed his face and hands dry.

"I doubt it!"

"No. I'm sure I have... It'll come to me in a minute."

As Rayne turned around, the fellow was standing just behind him. He smelled of heat and frustration, and cheap after-shave. His eyes were dark brown, flecked with gold, under straight, mahogany brows. Thick, dark hair was slicked back from his broad forehead with water and he had a small razor nick under his chin on the left-hand side of his face. Rayne could smell the blood still. He must have re-opened the cut whilst he was tidying himself up.

If it had not been for that small factor, Rayne Wylde might have been able to walk away without being tempted. As it was, he hesitated, and that was enough to give the fellow an opening. Gently now the other man touched his cheek and neck and within a moment they were kissing one another fiercely and the stranger was fumbling at Rayne's fly buttons.

Somehow, Rayne got him into one of the cubicles and closed the door before the stranger got his pants undone and began to wank him hard, with hot, sweaty fingers. Clearly he wanted this as much as the singer did. Rayne dextrously stripped him, pushing him back roughly against the cubicle wall as he unbuttoned the younger man's shirt and pants; forcing his tongue down the stranger's throat as he did so. The Rep's mouth tasted of black coffee and whiskey and Indian spices.

"I want to fuck you up the arse," Rayne whispered huskily to him now.

His partner just moaned softly and Rayne took that for assent. Turning the other man firmly to face the back of the cubicle, he forced him up against the cistern with his legs astride the toilet bowl and yanked the stranger's pants down to mid-thigh. Spitting in the palm of his hand, he used the saliva to lubricate the hot, swollen head of his erect cock. Snaking long, powerful fingers around hips becoming prematurely fleshy, Rayne parted the Rep's soft, hairy buttocks with his thumbs and penetrated his partner quickly and non-too-gently.

The younger man was tight but accommodating and his mate was soon fully inside him, thrusting away fiercely into the soft, wetness of his body and pressing his face into the crook of his partner's neck. The Rep' uttered a barely audible groan of pleasure at the intrusion and Rayne found that his submission to this crude and savage act of buggery carried him to a rapid and satisfying climax. He rarely lingered over dalliances like this one, in any case, and pulled out of him quickly, wiping his prick on a length of toilet paper hanging from the dispenser to his right. Roughly, he hauled the lad around to face him again, pushing him back against the wall and sinking to his knees to take the salesman's short, chunky, throbbing cock in his mouth.

Rayne took his time, nodding his dark, tousled head slowly into the younger man's hot, hairy crotch and stroking his soft, wet lips over that meaty shaft. He was always vaguely surprised at how fantastic it felt to let a complete stranger come hard over his tongue and took his time stroking his tongue over the throbbing shaft in his mouth. His nameless mate groaned wordlessly somewhere up above his head and he felt sweaty fingers snarl his hair, pulling him closer. Opening wider, Rayne stroked his tongue across the underside of his partner's thrusting cock, flickering back and forth from the ridge of flesh where his foreskin rolled back to bare the slippery, purple head, and caressing slowly down to the base of his lovely tool. He could almost forget his agitation, down here on his knees, obeying the whim that drove them both onward.

The flood of hot, slightly spicy semen was yet another revelation. Rayne closed his eyes and swallowed rhythmically. Now the younger fellow was crying out in a soft voice; "Oh god... oh god, that's good!" trying hard not to be overheard, although plainly it had been a gratifying experience for him too. Rayne curtailed the pleasure of sucking him a little longer and pulled himself to his feet, stifling his lover's gasps of satisfaction with his own mouth.

The whole session lasted barely more than a handful of minutes, but Rayne felt reinvigorated by it. He could still taste his partner's semen, like sour cream, chilli and salt on his tongue. It reminded him of the flavours of Simon's blood during the previous afternoon. Now he lapped gently at the nick under the young man's chin, teasing and licking at it where the blood had begun to trickle down slowly. It tasted wonderful (even better than his cum) so intense and peppery that he wanted more. Instinctively, he let his dog-teeth extend and nipped at the boy's exposed neck and throat, drawing greedily on his conquest's precious blood.

The young man started to protest when he bit deeper, but Rayne slapped a hand over his mouth and forced him down onto the toilet seat. Crouching over him he pushed the rep's head back hungrily against the top of the cistern. The fellow's ejaculation had whetted his appetite, but this was what Rayne truly desired. Once the taste of the young salesman's hot, delicious blood was in his mouth and his throat, he could not let up until his gnawing hunger had been slaked. He felt the salesman struggle and pressed down harder, restraining him and taking a curious pleasure in the fellow's inability to fight him off. All his life, Rayne had longed for this level of control and now it had come to him he was dizzy with the pleasure of it.

SIMON

Simon glanced at his watch and figured that Rayne had been an unfeasible length of time coming back from the bathroom. Charley was reading someone's discarded Daily Mail and did not seem to care, but Simon was growing worried.

"I'm going to see if he's all right," he said aloud, at last.

"Can't he take a piss on his own now?" The other fellow did not look up from his paper as he said it. Simon drew a short, impatient breath.

"He's been ill. I should be taking care of him."

"He should be in a Nut House where they can take 'proper' care of him!" Charley responded acerbically, but he folded the tabloid on the table top and pushed himself wearily to his feet all the same.

RAYNE

The sound of the cubicle door slamming hard against the wall was possibly the saving of his partner's life. Rayne pulled free of his mate seconds before Charley Collister's hands closed around his neck and yanked his head back with a violence that might have done lasting damage had he not already been beyond that.

Within the cubicle the young salesman sank down astride the toilet bowl and clutched at his own neck in disbelief. He was moaning quietly, shaking his head, his hair tousled and his clothing still disarrayed and spotted with blood and cum.

Chaz threw Rayne to the floor just outside the stall, with a snort of disgust. Beyond him, Simon put both hands to his mouth, backing away in horror and dismay. Rayne crawled several paces towards the basins on all fours, like a beaten dog, then pulled himself to his feet, staring at his blood-streaked face in the mirrors as though he had never seen his reflection before. The incredulous smile that had lingered on his gory lips faded and he lurched forward, over the sinks, reaching for the taps as he retched violently. All the while he attempted to scrub the evidence of what he had done from his face, arms and hands. Simon merely stared in growing horror at him.

Turning from the basins, Rayne found himself confronted by their dismay and shock once more. Charley was supporting the trembling Rep in the cubicle, and glaring at him as if he could kill with his eyes. Simon's transfixed, accusing gaze was like no expression he had seen on his friend's face before. Rayne sagged back against the washbasins lowering his dripping hands in a gesture of defeat.

"Is he on drugs?" the Salesman exhaled fearfully, at last. "He's fucking mad! He's a lunatic!"

"We'll sort it," Chaz was saying rationally. "Look, whatever the damage, we'll pay for it. But it needs to stay out of the courts, you know what I'm saying?"

Rayne met and held the young man's petrified stare, even as he touched a hand to his neck and it came away dry. The bite wounds were already healing, just as Matty's injuries had healed long before he could bleed to death. The Rep stared at his hand as though he did not quite believe it himself.

"You fuckin' bit me!" he declared as though they had denied him his proper rights as a victim. "I 'know' you did!"

"You'll 'ave to prove it, though," Rayne told him, recovering more quickly. He ran his tongue over his receding fangs, then licked his lips slowly, savouring the taste of his mate's blood and semen. "You try and take me on, mate, and I'll tell the cops you cruised me. 'cos that's the gods' honest truth."

The Rep looked a question at Charley, who was still scowling. The big man shrugged apologetically in his direction when he realised that he was being asked for support. "I didn't see nuffin', mate," he said gruffly. "You seem all right. Like I said, we'll pay for the damage to yer whistle."

"Give 'im a ton and meet me outside," Rayne said curtly. "I need some air."

Simon was still hovering in the doorway as he made his way out, his face pale and horrified. Rayne forced a smile that did not make it all the way across his face.

"Sorry, Si," he muttered, in a more repentant tone. "Once a fuck-up, always a fuck-up, I guess."

"Y-y-you've got blood on your shirt," Simon forced out as he eased past.

"Get used to it," the singer exhaled flatly, and the doors swung to behind him.

To Be Continued...