Underwear Ch. 04

"That's it! Fuck off!" she shrilled after the boys. "Fuck off and don't fuckin' come back. I'm changing the fuckin' locks!"

One of the lads flicked the bird over his shoulder at her, the other snorted; "Stupid bitch!"

She caught Rayne's eye as she turned to go back in.

"What you fuckin' starin' at you fuckin' queer!" she bellowed and slammed the door behind her.

Rayne crossed the road again when he caught sign of a familiar street name on a post that had not quite been vandalised beyond recognition. As he walked down the middle of the road towards the far curb he registered the sound of footsteps following him. Somewhere close by he heard a train coming, but could not see the railway line. He quickened his pace and the pair following him sped up too.

"Oi, Fag!" someone shouted from behind him.

He did not stop or look back, just kept walking, not out of fear but from the knowledge of what he might do if he was challenged. He was tense and ill humoured and worse than that, he was hungry.

The footfalls were close now. Someone's hand pushed him in the middle of his back and he stumbled forward, checking himself against the fence to his right and turned with his back to it. The pair from the house around the corner spread out, surveying him like predatory dogs, making sure that he could not run back the way he had come without coming through them. The street was a cul de sac, a curving wall of semi-detached houses barred his escape in the other direction. Rayne stood his ground, he had no intention of running.

"I'm talking to you, faggot," the one in the cap said, spitting out the words like poison. His voice and acne ridden face suggested that he was not more than fifteen. Though he was tall and quite broad across the shoulders he had not filled his frame yet. The other boy was smaller with better skin and sharp, accusatory, pale blue eyes. They were both taller than Rayne's lean five foot six and a half.

"No you're not," the Vampire retorted coolly now. "You just like the sound of your own fucking voice."

"Shut it you little student ponce!" That was Blue-Eyes. Rayne's acid glare moved quietly to his face, taking him in, measuring him up. From his stance, one hand always lingering by his belt, he was tooled up. Whether he was carrying a knife or a gun the Vampire was determined that he would not use it. He was probably a little older than Zit-Face, the brains to the taller lad's brawn.

"Or you'll do what?" Rayne looked him up and down disparagingly. He saw the boy go for his weapon and was faster. A kick trapped the kid's hand against his hip and he spun away cursing.

The taller boy swung a punch at Rayne then turned, looking around wildly when his quarry was not where he expected him to be. The Vampire appeared under his nose and jabbed the knife retrieved from his partner's pocket up under his chin just hard enough to puncture the skin. The owner of the knife was curled around his bollocks in the gutter groaning and cursing furiously.

"Watch who you're calling a faggot you scrawny cunt," Rayne Wylde hissed quietly, prodding him with the knife again. "I could eat you for breakfast you little tosser! Now listen to what the bitch across the road said and fuck off before I decide I'm hungry."

He stood firm, watching them until he could be sure they had both cleared off then licked the tip of the knife, pocketed it and carried on walking. His pulse was racing now. The scent and taste of fresh blood had set him off and he cursed himself for not stopping to feed, even though it would have been dangerous to bleed even one of them in broad daylight with the gods knew how many witnesses. The street he was on ended in a deep cul de sac at the edge of the estate. There was a scrubby patch of wasteland beyond it on one side and the railway line on the other. Rayne counted the numbers and his eyes settled on a semi-detached house that backed onto the scrubby field. It had a driveway and double gate at the street entrance. Being on the curve of the avenue it also had more space to the side than some of its neighbours. The windows had metal shutter casings over all of them and the front door was reinforced. There was an up and over garage door in the wall that joined it to its detached neighbour. The top of the wall had been fortified with barbed wire. The front garden was given over to a sea of tarmac.

Rayne stopped in front of the gate and toyed with the heavy padlock on the catch. Then he moved to the low, spike-railed wall around the rest of the front yard and climbed over it carefully. As he dropped down to the black macadam drive the door opened and he turned slowly when he heard the double click of an automatic weapon behind him.

"Don't shoot me Kev," he implored, raising his hands to where the detective could see them. "It won't kill me but it 'will' hurt. I'll go if you really want me to."

The inside of the house was surprisingly neat and feminine, apart from the heavy triple deadbolts on the front door. There was floral wallpaper in the hall and a pale wooden floor, which continued into the lounge. Here the decor was predominately hyacinth blue and pale greens. A mint green, Velour covered sofa sat against the internal wall and there was a large, flat-screen TV in the corner furthest from the window. Magazines were strewn over the floor and one of the armchairs opposite. The windowpanes were leaded and, Rayne suspected, also reinforced. There was nothing on the deep windowsill but a telephone. His eyes followed the cable to the wall below but it was unplugged.

Kevan had said very little as he stepped aside to let the Vampire in but the invitation was implicit in his body language. Rayne took advantage before he changed his mind. The mortal had been very briefly surprised as he realised who his intruder was but just as quickly masked it again. He put the gun aside immediately though. Rayne was quietly relieved at that. Although he did not believe that Kevan Delaney could kill him with ordinary bullets he did not want to put that theory to the test.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Kev asked him gruffly as he closed the lounge door, sinking into the chair by the window.

The Vampire remained on his feet, hands in his jacket pockets once more.

"Dave was worried about you," he said atonally.

"Why are you here and not Dave then?"

"Dave's working. He said he'd come with me tomorrow but I didn't want to wait that long." Rayne was staring at the scuffed toes of his Hi-Tops. He stroked the smooth casing of the flick knife in his pocket between his thumb and index finger as if it could work magic for him.

'The Genie of the Flick Knife. Yeah!'

"So you came up here on your own. Did Dave know you were gonna do that?" Kevan leaned forward frowning at him.

"Look... If you want me to fuck off..." Rayne began but Kev quickly said;

"I don't want that."

They stared at one another for a moment. The frown had lifted slightly from Kevan's brow but he still looked perplexed. Rayne gazed back at him, quietly bewildered.

"What 'do' you want?" he exhaled at last.

"I want you," Kevan said simply.

Rayne turned away for a moment, his eyes searched the small flowers on the blue wallpaper hunting for some clue that would help him. He had not expected this. Kevan angry he could cope with; upset even. He was not ready for this quiet submission.

"Why do you live here?" he asked finally, in desperation.

"Because this is my house." Kev sounded rather confused by this sudden turn in the conversation.

"No, you muppet, I mean why the fuck do you have a house in a place like this? Even the cab drivers won't come here." Rayne stared at the little white flowers on the wallpaper, trying to imagine how someone could put up little white flowers on pretty blue paper when there was raging chaos outside the window.

"It wasn't always like this," Kevan said wistfully. "When we first bought it, it was a nice estate. It's gone downhill in the last five years or so."

"And you put up with it?" Rayne turned around, almost angry with him for his pacific acceptance of the situation.

"What was I supposed to do? All the money I have left is tied up in this house. When Marie left me, I used up all my savings to pay her share. If I 'could' sell I'd not get back what I paid out on it over the years. And like you said; 'who in their right mind would buy it now?'"

They stared at one another helplessly.

"How long have you been on your own here?" Rayne asked him weakly.

"About three years. She was spending more and more time with the kids at her mother's. She said it wasn't safe and I couldn't argue. Our youngest got beat up badly by some little scumbags that were dealing and thought he'd grassed on them. Then I found out Marie was having an affair. She asked me for a divorce about eighteen months ago."

"So it's over?" Rayne was tugging on the small, silver pendant around his neck distractedly.

"No," Kev responded lowering his head. "I wouldn't give it to her. She was the one who left. She was the one who was cheating. She's not taking everything I have so easily."

Rayne Wylde closed his eyes and swung around, facing the wall again. He felt confused and angry all at once. It made sense for him to feel sorry for Kev but he could not lower his defences just like that.

"Do you miss her?" he asked numbly.

"What do you think?" Kev retaliated bitterly.

"I dunno." Rayne thrust his hands back into his pockets awkwardly, still counting little white flowers. "Do you still love her, Kev?"

The room was silent for a little while. He could hear a burglar alarm shrilling distantly and the sudden blare and fade of a police siren split the quiet, then Kevan said; "Not as much as I love you, Ray."

Rayne felt his stomach turn over. He was shaking, he realised. This was just crazy. He was going to have to put a stop to it.

"Where did you go the other night? After you dropped me off... after you stopped ringing my buzzer, where did you go? I was worried about you. I tried to get in touch but no one knew where you were." The words tumbled out of his mouth like escaping sheep fleeing an open pen. Once one had gone there was no stopping the rest.

Behind him, Kev was quiet for a while.

"I just drove around at first. I needed to think," he said huskily. "Then I went back to the carpark where we left Donald."

Rayne looked over one shoulder at him accusingly, this admission putting all his other misgivings to flight.

"Tell me you didn't let him go!"

Kev met his eyes pacifically.

"I didn't let him go," he conceded, shaking his head. "I did get the ring back. He was out of it by the time I got there. I cut the tape and got the ring out of his mouth. It took me a while to figure out what you'd done with it. I was just glad I didn't have to look up his fucking arse! Then I put fresh tape over his mouth. I left him snoring in the back of the car."

Rayne sat down on the edge of the sofa quickly, his legs suddenly too weak to hold him up. He clenched his hands together in his lap as if he was praying. A curious sense of relief washed over him all the same. If Kev had let Don McCall go after all that had happened the night before last he was not sure what he would have done next. Maybe he would have walked out, perhaps they would have fought. Now he felt like a bomb with its fuse removed.

"I'm glad," he said in a small voice. His eyes moved up to Kevan's puzzled face and he clarified that at once; "Not about 'him', I don't care what happens to 'him'. But I never realised until afterwards how much it meant to you... giving me the ring. I didn't mean to hurt you, Kev. I just didn't understand. I... don't do relationships. Not 'well' anyway. Do you see?"

"I'm beginning to," Kevan told him in a grim tone.

"This was stupid of me. I'm really sorry." Rayne bit his lip and looked down, not used to apologising. "Do you want me to go?"

Kev shook his head, then realised that Rayne could not see him.

"No," he said more adamantly.

Pale green eyes moved to his face, searching him for some guidance.

"I can't be what you want me to be," Rayne protested softly.

"It doesn't matter," Kev assured. "I know you hate the dressing up. I know it makes you feel cheap. I don't want you to hate it. But when... when we're together... when we're fucking... nothing matters does it? It's so good, Ray. I miss that."

Rayne looked away again. How to say that he missed it too without Kev completely misunderstanding him? He felt sick. This was worse than a first date. He felt like a kid again, completely out of his depth.

"I'm not in love with you," he said atonally. "I'm allowed to give a fuck what happens to you without being in love."

"I know you don't love me, Ray," Kevan said at once. "I told you as much the other night when I gave you the ring. But it doesn't mean that we can't be lovers, does it? It doesn't mean that I can't get so deep inside you that you feel like a part of me; so that your eyes close and you grind your teeth together and make that wonderful little noise in the back of your throat like an angry cat; and all your body squeezes up tight around me and I just know that you're about to cum so hard..."

"Kev..." Rayne's green eyes were glistening dangerously. His pupils had dilated until they were in danger of eclipsing the pale irises. He rose to his feet, moving towards the door. "Don't do this."

"Don't do what, Ray?" Kevan moved with him, reaching for his shoulders. Strong warm hands closed on his upper arms. "God almighty, you are so beautiful. Even dressed up as a thieving little chav you're as hot as hell on fire."

Rayne shook his head again, unable to speak. He could feel the words all pressed up in the back of his throat, a traffic jam of words caused by a pile up of three tiny, monosyllabic utterances.

Don't

Touch

Me

Kevan's hands moved up onto his shoulders, caressed the curve of his neck and cupped his face, lifting it gently. He rubbed the pad of his thumb gently over Rayne's lips, feeling them part involuntarily. Huge, helpless green eyes met his own, as wide and imploring as a kitten's gaze.

"Come upstairs," Kev whispered.

Another little shake of the head was his only response.

"I want you," Kev told him, his lips less than a few inches from Rayne's soft, sexy, choirboy mouth. "I'm rock hard for you. I want to feel your teeth in my neck while I push my big hard cock into you."

"Kev..." Rayne pleaded softly, his voice little more than a breath.

He was so hungry it was ripping him apart. Surely Kevan could see it. How could he not realise what he was doing?

"Let me take you upstairs and undress you," the mortal murmured eagerly, his fingertips stroking Rayne's cheeks and neck.

"I can't." Rayne closed his eyes. He had the sudden, horrible thought that he might just cry if he had to keep looking into Kevan's soul like this. Either that or rip his windpipe out with his teeth!

Maybe Kev saw it too for he suddenly let go and backed up a step. A long ragged sigh escaped him and he pulled away, reaching for the door.

"I'm really that abhorrent to you?"

Now Rayne blinked at him, shaken that he could believe this.

"Kev... no. It's nothing like that. You don't understand."

"You're right there, Ray." Kev hesitated in the doorway to the hall. "I 'don't' understand you. I know that you never had any complaints when I was inside you. I know that you love taking it. I've listened to you screaming with pleasure often enough over the last couple of months. Maybe I should just give you what I was going to give you from the start and you can go. Maybe that's behind it. Maybe that's what you're not telling me and I should have been a better fucking psychologist or something."

"I do 'not' scream," Rayne said defensively. Then his brows lowered. "What do you mean, 'give me what you were going to give me'?"

Kevan crooked a finger at him solemnly then turned and walked to the foot of the stairs. Rayne hesitated in the doorway.

"If this is just a ploy to get me into your bedroom..." he began.

"It isn't," Kev said grimly. "Do you want to see this or not?"

"I don't know," Rayne told him diplomatically. "I have no idea what you're on about."

"Come on then," Kev sighed again and led the way up the thickly carpeted stairs. Their feet made hardly any sound on the steps.

The landing was a soft rose pink with a floral border. Kev led the way across to a small room that was probably the box room although it had been kitted out as an office with half-panelled walls and a computer desk by the window. The man bent and unlocked a drawer in the desk then produced a fat, plain, unsealed manila envelope and handed it back wordlessly to his companion. Rayne took it warily as though it might explode in his hands.

"What is it?"

"Have a look. You tell me," Kev said to him grimly.

Intrigued, Rayne unfolded the lip of the envelope and peered in. There were a number of photographs inside, packed in tightly. Some were large 10" by 7 prints although there were a number of smaller Polaroids taken by an instamatic camera. He recognised the format immediately having purchased an elderly instamatic when he was just fourteen with the intention of taking nude pictures of his then-girlfriend, Angie McDonnell. He tugged on one of the prints and a few came out in his hand and tumbled to the floor.

Rayne dropped to a crouch, turning them carefully, not sure at first which way up they were supposed to be. Then as the truth slowly dawned on him he let go of the entire package and backed up to the wall, his eyes wide. Kev was by his side at once, catching him as his knees buckled and steering him to the swivel chair in front of the desk. Rayne sat down there heavily, blinking like a startled owl, unable to look at him at first. He tried three times to get words to come. On the fourth attempt he managed to spit out; "Where...? H-h-how...?"

"You know I work with the Vice Squad?" Kev crouched in front of him, taking his hands and holding them gently.

Rayne just nodded, feeling numb and shaken.

"We did a raid on this guy in Hulme last week. This was part of the stash the sick bastard was hoarding. A lot of it got burned right off but we took some stuff back as samples for the courts. We wanted him nailed for pedalling kiddie porn. I didn't even realise until I was looking through them later on at the office." Kev looked down, shamefaced. "The more I looked the more I knew it was you. Jesus Christ, Ray! Tell me you weren't willing!"

Ice green eyes flickered to his own, horrified.

"Does that make it easier?" Rayne asked huskily. "If I was being raped that makes it better, does it?"

"No... I mean... at least..." Kev buried his face in Rayne's lap and closed his eyes. "That's not what I meant," his muffled voice said weakly.

Rayne sank back bonelessly into the chair, staring straight ahead at the slats of light shimmering through the window blinds. He shuddered involuntarily.

"I wasn't willing."

He felt Kev look up but could not meet his eyes. If he had still been mortal his cheeks would have been on fire by now.

"How old...?"

Rayne cut him off; "I was thirteen. My room at Bryan and Iris's house was smaller than this. When my mum walked out on my dad we wound up living there. Iris was my mum's sister, Bryan was her husband."

"Your Uncle?" Kev elaborated but Rayne said nothing. He neither confirmed nor negated the remark.

"On the night of my thirteenth birthday Bryan came into my room as I was just drifting off to sleep. He was getting ready for bed. Everyone else was already asleep, he said." Rayne blinked once then frowned as if trying to see something that was not quite clear. "I remember feeling him pull the bedclothes back and the air felt cold on my legs. Then he took my pyjamas off. He pulled my pants down first then pulled them off me. Then he rolled me on my side and unfastened my top and took it off. I was very sleepy, at first I thought I was dreaming. He let me lie back down on my tummy and I heard him take his shorts off and drop them on the floor. I felt him put his finger between my buttocks, but it felt strange, kind of cold and slippery. He pushed until his finger went inside me. I didn't struggle, Kev. He'd done that to me before and I knew that it hurt more if I got scared and struggled. I let him put his fingers in me and touch me. I thought that if I was quiet and good for him he'd do it then go away like usual."