Revenant

"You wanna give 'im some?" Crucifix asked his partner, who nodded eagerly. The fingers inside him withdrew and the pair swapped places.

"Lick my hand clean," his molestor ordered as he knelt by Rayne's head and thrust his musky, sticky fingers into the Vampire's face.

Behind him, the big guy was fingering him experimentally, trying to discover how many digits he could get into their captive's tight young arse. Rayne whimpered; "Please! Let me go. I did what you wanted."

"We're not done with you yet," Crucifix told him. "You're our bitch tonight, understand? You do as 'we' tell you or you get this!" He slashed Rayne's left cheek with the point of his knife and the young Vampire winced and tried to struggle free. At once he was slammed down into the dirt again, his face rubbed against the ground. The thug kneeling by his head wiped his hand clean on Rayne's dark hair, then grabbed his wrists and forced his hands behind his head, holding him in that position. "Just fuck the little twat and let's get on with it!" he snarled at his companion, the first sign of anxiety he had exhibited all night.

At once, Tattoos hauled the naked youth to his knees, though the other man kept his head and shoulders pressed down to the dirty floor. Rayne heard the rip and rustle of another rubber being extracted and rolled on. He squirmed as he felt the cold, slippery head of Tattoos' sheathed penis probe his sore hole, then push into his vulnerable anus eagerly. A muffled groan escaped him and he struggled harder until he was threatened with the knife again. This time the blade caressed his throat. The red mist was rising as Rayne Wylde submitted to violent buggery for the second time that night. He focussed on the knife and kept his jaws clenched, though he felt the longer dog-teeth extend of their own volition now.

The second bout of anal rape was fast and rough. Tattoos was only on his back for a few minutes, bucking that big cock into him like a randy bull and cumming quickly inside him. The wet heat of climax filling his loins told Rayne that the rubber had torn long before his assailant slumped forward and pulled out, his huffs of satisfaction turning to curses as he peeled off the sticky remnants of his condom. The Vampire did not care. They could give him no disease that would affect him and they would both be dead in any case before the sun came up.

They switched places again. Rayne whimpered an objection but was cuffed around the head for it. Behind him, he felt the bastard who had cut him begin to frig him again, firstly with the hilt of his knife, then with all four fingers at once.

"He's lovin' that," Tattoos laughed, listening to Rayne moan and hyperventilate as he was abused. "What a fuckin' slut, eh?"

"Then we wanna teach 'im what we do to dirty little queers, don't we?" Crucifix pressed his fingers in to the third knuckle, a good bit harder and more roughly than before. Under him Rayne winced and yelped with pain. "Shut up!" Crucifix told him sharply, pulling them out smartly and balling his fist, rubbing his knuckles over their victim's exposed perineum. "Christ! Hold 'im down will you, Gaz!" he complained as the Vampire bucked and tried to scramble free.

The tattooed man, Gaz was laughing nastily as he rested a hand in the small of Rayne's naked back, forcing him back down. He leaned all of his upper body weight behind it, bending forward to get a better look as his mate forced most of his hand into their wriggling plaything.

"Aaaaaaahhh!" Rayne exhaled, shaking his head vigorously. "Don't! 'Please'! It hurts."

"I 'told' you to fuckin' shut it!" Crucifix pulled back again, ignoring his gasping cries of reluctance. "Gaz, if the little bitch even 'squeaks' again, cut his pretty face for him!"

He passed the knife to his partner in crime and Gaz showed the blade to Rayne with a menacing grin, then stroked his wounded cheek with the point. The lack of sustenance meant that fortunately he was healing very slowly so the slash still looked quite raw. The Vampire bit down hard on both lips and tried not to cry out this time as he felt the other man's balled fist punch its way deep into his anus. His eyes closed tightly and he fought the rising groans forced into his throat by each thrust of his assailant's muscular forearm.

His traitorous cock stiffened as he was pounded more fiercely and he concentrated on breathing slow and deep as Crucifix impaled him almost to the elbow. Rayne began to keen softly, unable to keep the sound inside. He knew that his friend, Matty loved being fist-fucked and now he thought he understood why. It was agony, (and Matt was a notorious masochist) but it was also incredibly stimulating. His rectum was stretched to it's full capacity and the weight and heat within his colon and lower bowel sent little tendrils of energy fizzing along all the nerves in his arms and legs and up into his neck and his head. He felt his cheeks grow hot as he was rammed harder, panting eagerly on the ground; "Oh yeah! YEAH!!"

His chest and belly were wet with cum and he realised almost belatedly that it was his own. The climax left him dazed and bewildered. Crucifix pulled his fist out with a disgusted oath and hauled him onto his back, slamming him to the ground.

"You dirty little queer! You get off on being our bitch, don't you?" There was a glint in his eye that was far from sane. "Looks like we're gonna have to go all the way with you after all."

By Rayne's head, Gaz the tattoo-freak uttered a belly laugh, his cock jutting half-erect from his pants. Out of the corner of his eye he measured the distance, wondering if he could get a hand to the grip of the machete that still hung down his trouser leg before they realised what he was up to.

"You wanna castrate the little slag, or shall I?" Crucifix asked as Tattoos handed him back the short knife. Rayne's eyes flew back to his sweaty face, glistening orange in the sodium light from up on the street above his head.

"I wanna do it," Gaz said eagerly. He pulled the longer, single-edged blade from its sheath in his pants and Rayne looked quickly from one to the other, tensing for the fight. If Crucifix got him onto the ground they could easily rip him apart down here before he was able to stop them. Properly fed they were no problem for him, but he was starving and shaking from the combination of sustained withdrawal and the exertion of the double rape and vicious fisting. He needed to feed, and quickly.

"Don't... I'm begging you. I'll do 'anything'. Please don't cut me!" he implored, turning his gaze on Tattoos whom he had already decided was the softer touch of the pair. Even if it was only because he thought with his bollocks.

"If you wanna be our bitch, you need a cunt," the big man told him, grinning maliciously. He stroked the blade as tenderly as a lover. "A big, gaping, bloody cunt!"

Crucifix leaned over the Vampire and grabbed him by his now flaccid genitalia, pulling Rayne's cock and balls away from his pelvis to make it easier for his partner. He eased the point of the bowie knife into the softer skin behind his victim's ball-sac. It was his first and last mistake. Rayne might not be at full strength but he was fast, and that threat to his manhood was just the provocation he was looking for.

"Not if you were the last fuckin' meal-ticket on earth!" he hissed as he went for the rapist with his fangs bared, grabbing the skinhead by his dangling crucifix pendant and pulling his head down violently so that he could bite. The knife slipped free and clattered to the ground as Rayne barrelled into his assailant with one shoulder and knocked him backwards towards the edge of the towpath. The chain broke in his hand, his teeth connected with soft, thin flesh and he bit down hard, tearing skin and sinews like a wild animal. It was not a normal attack and certainly not dignified but he was beyond concerns about his dignity.

A spurt of hot blood hit him in the face as he crouched over his shocked and furious victim. The attack had fortunately startled Tattoos so much that he was momentarily paralysed. He remained on his knees for a few seconds, the machete in his hand, watching as their little whore ripped out his friend's throat mercilessly and drank greedily from the spill of gore that spurted it's scarlet climax over his pale skin.

"Gaz..." Crucifix gurgled at last, breaking the spell. "Kill the little fucker! 'Kill' him!"

Rayne gulped and swallowed faster. He never liked to rush a meal but 'this' was serious. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the fellow called Gaz stumble to his feet and trip over his cascading pants, which were still unfastened and quickly snarled around his ankles, bringing him back down. He allowed himself another indulgent mouthful, then another, empowered by the flooding warmth of it in his gullet. As the second thug found his feet and went for him with the machete, perhaps expecting him to curl up in a ball or run for it, he did the last thing any sane person would do. He leapt 'towards' the tattooed man, fending off a savage sideways blow that slashed into his shoulder and upper arm and grabbed him by the neck with his good hand, blocking out the pain that seared down his right side like cold fire. The little golden cross on its broken chain dangled from the limp, twitching fingers of his wounded arm as he slammed Gaz back into the wall under the bridge and brought his knee up hard between the big skinhead's legs.

The tattooed rapist doubled over at once, his forehead hitting Rayne's shoulder. As he howled in pain, the furious little Vampire went for his jugular, virtually oblivious to all but the smell of blood. It was a mistake he had been warned against time and time again but his fury and his hunger over-rode all common sense. As he bit down hard and revelled in the gush of rich, coppery, viscous heat that filled his mouth, the big man brought his knife hand up hard and fast in a last act of desperation. The Vampire's jaws released his neck as the blade of the machete sank into his abdomen, driving upward, and impaled him to the hilt. It was too low for a heart strike but it checked him briefly. He collapsed against the bigger man, unable to ignore the fierce, gut-twisting, flames of hell within his intestines, panting fiercely and rapidly as he tried to work around this all consuming pain. Not since Jabez, his Sire, had put him through intensive self-healing sessions when he was first Turned had he known agony like this.

The pain did a curious thing to him, however. It focussed him, utterly. Somehow it put him in a clear space where everything made perfect sense. He knew what he had to do. If he wasted time now the energy he had gained from feeding on Crucifix would channel into the healing process leaving him weak as a child again. He had to finish them both while he still had the strength. Then and only then would all of their other victims be avenged. Only then could he rest.

Rayne Wylde brought his head back slowly and looked his assailant in the eye for a moment that bared his black, soul-less heart to the mortal. He thought he saw a glint of triumph in the man's slate-grey gaze as he slowly turned the blade in the Vampire's belly, watching Rayne's fanged jaws clench against the lancing agony and long, girlish lashes veil his acid-green stare.

"Gonna cut you a soft, wet pussy, little whore," he promised, his voice still high and husky from the impact of the naked vampire's kneecap between his legs. "And I'm gonna fuck you there til you can't scream any more."

Then the bloody fingers of Rayne's left hand gripped the bastard by the throat and slammed him back against the wall, breaking his neck. His struggles ceased instantly and the blood-spattered Vampire dropped him to the ground and stood over him, huffing softly like a winded racehorse, hands clasped around the hilt of the weapon that still protruded from his belly.

Bracing himself, he closed his eyes and eased it slowly out, his tortured breath coming in short, rapid little sobs as the sharp blade scythed through soft flesh and grated on the pelvic bone. He dropped to his knees beside his vanquished foe as the weight of the weapon carried it out of the tear in his belly and it slipped though his gory fingers. It hit the ground before him, with a clash that made him flinch. His hearing was ultra sensitive, as was his sense of touch right now. All he could smell, see or taste was blood. Too much of it was his own.

Bending over the tattooed corpse of his assailant, he lapped at the deep bite wound in the man's neck, but already the red warmth had stilled in his veins, deprived of the pulse that powered it through his body. It would be an effort to leech him, Rayne decided. It would take energy that he could not spare. He lifted his head with obvious difficulty to see Crucifix's bright blue eyes staring right at him. The mortal was in shock, bleeding copiously from the opened arteries of his neck, but still alive. Rayne drew a long, grateful, sobbing breath and crawled over to him.

As the Vampire bent over him and lapped like a kitten at the spill of blood around the dying man, his mortal victim struggled to move his hand and Rayne backed off this time, conscious of how close he had already come to True Death by underestimating his opponents. His wounded body still hurt but the feast of blood from this man's veins was helping the healing process along. Rayne Wylde rarely drank his fill from one victim. He had no need to drain a grown man under normal circumstances. Tonight, he had already decided, he was going to make an exception.

The Skinhead's trembling hand groped towards the little golden cross whose chain was still wrapped around the Vampire's slender fingers. Rayne tilted his head quizzically, looking from the crucifix to it's previous wearer, then he flashed a startling, bloody smile. His fangs were still as long as a child's finger. There was madness in his red-rimmed, lime-green eyes.

"You want this?" he hissed softly, dangling the cross just out of reach. "You think it can do you some good?"

He laughed breathlessly, shaking his head. Dark hair tumbled, lank and bloody around his pale, crazy, beautiful face.

The dying man struggled to frame words. His voice was no more than a whisper of sound as he forced them out. "Mine... Godless... pervert freak... "

Rayne's smile waned. He stared for a long time at this man, who had raped and used him along with so many naïve kids, fixing that in his mind. He dwelt for a time on the dying misery of the boy who had expired in his arms beneath this very bridge, a victim of this evil creature's crusade.

"You think it'll save you? It hasn't done you many favours tonight, has it?" he looked at the little trinket pityingly.

"You... no belief... you mock..." The mortal ran out of breath and just glared at him, panting rapidly.

"What god would watch what you do to helpless kids, just because they have to sell their arses to survive, and bless you for it?" he asked at last, his voice curiously neutral.

"You... ask for it... all of you..." The blue of those insane eyes seemed to intensify as he lost the fight for life. "Queer scum!"

The Vampire's lips twitched humourlessly.

"'You' fucked us! What does that make 'you'? Will 'He' forgive you for that? Or will he send you to hell, where you 'deserve' to be!"

With his last strength the skinhead pointed a quivering finger at him and gasped; "See 'you' in hell!"

He slumped to the ground then and the furious intensity in his wide-open eyes seemed to die with him. His gaze slid skyward and Rayne looked up instinctively then sighed and shrugged his slender shoulders wearily.

"If there's a hell, we're already there," he said to no one in particular, closing his fingers around the little golden cross.

He knelt by the canal-side for a little while, feeding, shrouded in darkness, looking at the results of his handiwork with no particular pride. At last the hot, throbbing pulse in his punctured belly eased sufficiently for him to make a move without the fear of losing his intestines. Pushing himself to his feet, the Vampire tossed the golden pendant into the canal, then retrieved and pulled on his clothing stiffly and awkwardly. The cruciform burn mark on his palm lingered for a few moments then faded and vanished.

He watched it go with a little surprise, then shook his ragged, gory mane slightly.

Anyone watching from the bridge up above might have been astonished to see a slender, blood-stained wraith walk away from the scene of carnage below, melting into the shadows like the mist that rose from the still, dark water. He flung out his arms as if he could catch the breeze beneath his wide spread fingers and glide like a dark spirit, then uttered a husky ripple of mirthless laughter, disappearing into the gloom as if he had never been. Though if they strained their ears a moment longer, they might still have heard the caustic cadences of his black humour.

"What do 'you' believe in?"

:END:

© Sadie Rose Bermingham. 2004