tagNovels and NovellasLondon Loves Ch. 05

London Loves Ch. 05


© Sadie Rose Bermingham and Bellora Quinn 2012

Yes, Ladies and Gentlefolk, we have not abandoned you. We present, without further ado, Chapter the fifth of Rayne and Xavier's adventures in England and we hope that you find them suitably entertaining. Please remember that we post the stories out of the love of our black hearts and ask only that you do not take and reproduce them elsewhere without our permission. That said, we hope you enjoy...


Rayne's lips were still tingling from the ferocity of Xavier's farewell kiss when the cab turned up to take him to the airport. They had spent the morning and most of the night before tangled passionately in his bed and on the futon and the floor of the lounge and finally in the shower as he got ready to leave. Now, as he strapped himself in and prepared for take-off on the Heathrow to Manchester shuttle service, he just wanted to get things over and done with as quickly as possible so that he could get back to London and be in Xavier's arms again.

And that in itself felt like a betrayal. So much had come back to him since they returned to London. Biting Matty and then Clint had restored memories to him that he was barely able to conceive possible. But it had been talking to Dominic that restored the elements which led him North. He knew that there were still missing pieces and he would only find them there. But the shards he held in his hands were bad enough, they already coloured his nightmares. And there had been nightmares, some dreadful ones too.

Since Paris he had dreamed repeatedly of a man standing over him with a long pike in his hand, laughing as he plunged the pointed head into his breast. At least three nights a week he woke in a cold sweat as the blade pierced his heart. But lately his dreams had been muddled. Sometimes he was hiding, sensing that the danger was drawing closer, the bogeyman was coming to get him and drag him out of the closet. He saw his mother lying dead on the living room floor at their old house in Dymchurch, which made no sense. He had never seen his mother's body and she died in the garage of Brian's house in New Romney anyway.

The worst dreams were the ones where he was holding Kevan in his arms, begging him to wake up, screaming at him to fight, to try and stay alive for just a little while longer. Sometimes in those dreams he was tangled in a long piece of material like a shroud or a bridal train and it wrapped his feet, tripping him, refusing to let him reach Kev's side. He lay weeping hysterically in a tumble of pale, blood-stained cloth as his mate slowly spilled his life force into the pastel carpet. In the background he could always hear bitter laughter, as if the gods were mocking him for daring to believe his life could be anything other than tormented. It was this last dream that still plagued him as he stared at the open magazine in his lap without seeing it and tried not to think of the thousands of feet opening up between himself and the ground.

He was not as bad as Dom when it came to flying, but he had never liked it. The sense of claustrophobia was always stronger when he was trapped on a plane. And these days he could not even have a quick drink or a snort of coke to alleviate the anxiety. Instead he slipped his hand into his short black jacket and retrieved the little velvet pouch, which was slightly worn now from being tucked away in pockets and bags but still went everywhere with him, as it had since he retrieved it from the box in his piano. His fingers loosened the drawstrings at the neck and he tipped it from the bottom so that the single item it contained slipped coolly into the palm of his right hand.

The nine tiny diamonds set into the matte, platinum outer circle of the chunky little ring were as bright as the day when he had first let Kevan put it on his finger. The inner circle was white gold so that it looked, from above, like a curious eclipse. There was an inscription on the inside, which he had not noticed initially; only discovering it after Kevan was dead. It read; "RJW my heart is always yours KMJD". Typically, for Kevan, it was sentimental nonsense but Rayne had considered giving up the ring until he found those words. Now he could not countenance it. It would be one more betrayal and he had apparently deserted Kevan too often over the past year. It was time to make amends now.

Time to say goodbye.

The cab took him to a boutique hotel in Piccadilly where he checked in under an assumed identity. He had credit cards in the name of James Raymonde, which he used periodically when he did not want attention. Since Whipsnade began their career hiatus he had also written songs for other SOLD artists as Jay Raymonde so it was an easy alias to pick up and put down. Once he was safely tucked away in the comfortable suite, five floors up above the busy Mancunian streets, he hung up the few clothes he had brought with him and took a shower, then lay down on the bed trying to decide what to do. The ring was in his hand again and he slid it onto his third finger now, startled by it's cool weight, perfect fit and the familiar feel of having it there, even after all this time. It was like being an actor, sliding back into a role he had not played in years.

The past few weeks had been a heady dream and he had been happier than he had dared to feel in months with Xavier but this place had been his real life for three years and he had spent almost twelve months of those three years with Kev Delaney. If Kevan had listened to him on that fateful night almost a year ago, maybe that life would have carried on and he would still be here; he would never have met Xavier Gavrilov and his existence would have been very different.

"Shit!" he exhaled, shaking his head slowly. "This is hard, Kevan. Please bear with me. I never meant for things to work out like this but please try to be happy for me, yeah? I still miss you so much."

He curled up on his side then and drew his left hand to his lips, kissing the cool surface of the ring and closing his eyes to hold back the tears that threatened to spill from them once more. Over the past few days he had been ridiculously emotional and it just had to stop. Kev had always had this effect on him though. Xavier gave him balance and stability but Kev had unlocked the door to his feelings and allowed them to spill out unchecked. Rayne still didn't understand how he had managed it, but what was done was done. There was no putting the genie back in the bottle. He just had to finish things properly now, in order that his life, such as it was, could go on.

Rayne lay naked on the bed, enjoying the feel of the cool, clean linen against his skin and the comforting smell of it. He stayed there for the next three or four hours until it began to get dark, simply thinking things over, remembering times he had spent here and things that he and Kevan had done together. Then he pushed himself to his feet and pulled on his snug black jeans and a dark blue silk shirt. He ran his fingers through his hair and wriggled his feet into black silk socks and his faithful Chelsea boots, then tugged on his jacket, snared his keys and wallet and went for a walk.

He had not intended to go to his old hangouts tonight but his feet led him from the hotel down Auburn Street, overshadowed by new apartment blocks now, and into the Gay Village which had been his home during the time that he lived up here in Manchester. It seemed stupid to walk within metres of his old abode and not stop to see if it was okay. He stood outside the misleadingly shabby white block, staring forlornly at the green glass bricks that framed the double-doored entrance to the building. There was nothing to stop him going inside. He had the key and the entry codes were in his head somewhere. When he touched his fingers to the number pad they would come back to him like magic, just like the pin for his credit cards did and just as he knew how to locate people in his phonebook. He could not make his feet move closer though. Not tonight.

Instead he walked down Canal Street through the early evening crowds, still a light-hearted mixture of city types and tourists among the more bohemian locals. It was too early for the hardened ravers yet but they would come, he knew it, just as magpies were drawn to any shiny object. His feet took him to the Rembrandt where he first met Kevan and Dave and this time he crossed the threshold and went inside. There were no familiar faces, people he would have fenced words with, to his relief and he ordered a shot of Stolichnaya for old times' sake and knocked it back easily. The bar tender topped him up without a word and Rayne smiled and indicated with a gesture for the young man to have one himself.

It had been just before Xmas, a little over eighteen months ago that he first teamed up with two police detectives, Kevan Delaney and Dave Ramsay, here in this very same pub. Together they managed to put a stop to the murderous activities of a Vampire who had earned the nickname of The Canal Street Ripper. Although he had allowed both men to fuck him afterwards, he did not really get together with Kevan until a few months later when the guy asked him out for a drink. He had considered saying no. Kev really wasn't his type and he hadn't been looking for company, but curiosity got the better of him. After talking for about three hours, over a couple of bottles of Barolo, they went back to Rayne's apartment around the corner and spent the remainder of the evening and most of the night screwing like animals

Kevan was married, but separated from his wife. Dave, his work partner, was gay and had introduced his buddy to the pleasures of the Gay Village after growing tired of listening to Kev complain that he never got laid on the straight circuit. As a result, Kevan had quickly acquired a taste for young male prostitutes. He had a prodigious sexual appetite, something that Rayne readily appreciated.

As he'd admitted to Dominic, Rayne had never considered himself to be exclusively gay. Pressed to define his own appetites he would grudgingly admit that he swung both ways but it was interesting for him to meet a man who also considered himself to be essentially straight but who liked to fuck other guys too. It worked for them both. Their relationship hung on a strong physical bond though, emotionally and intellectually they were hardly compatible at all. Even Kev, who quickly became besotted with his vampire lover, had to admit that they had precious little in common beyond the fact that they always had amazing sex. Initially, Rayne reflected now, he had been incredibly cruel to Kevan but the big man always came back for more. It was as if he expected the abuse and tolerated it patiently in order to get what he wanted. He began to go to the gym regularly because Rayne told him he made the apartment look untidy and the results were quite eye-catching. Even women Kevan worked with, who had never previously given him the time of day suddenly began to pay attention when he walked into a room. Rayne advised his lover on clothes and grooming and actually took a quiet pride in the handsome man that began to emerge from the chrysalis of the slob Kev had been when they first met.

All of this spilled through his consciousness as he sat at the bar. The memories were so real to him that he almost expected to see Kev come lumbering through the pub door and call out to the bartender for a bottle of Becks. He downed the second shot of vodka, pushed a twenty across the counter and walked back up Canal Street towards his hotel.

"Hiya, you going somewhere?" a voice asked from just behind him and he turned to see a good looking kid in a black tee shirt and white jeans grinning at him hopefully. His blond hair was spiked up a little on top and reminded Rayne painfully of Xavier, though his eyes were a greenish brown colour.

"I'm going to crash, I've been travelling all day," he said with a lopsided smile that never reached his eyes.

"Want some company?" the boy persisted, reaching out to stroke his fingertips over the sleeve of Rayne's jacket.

"I'm kind of tired," Rayne lied, though he did not move away, deliberating that it would not hurt him to feed from the blond boy.

"I'm legal, and I'm clean," the lad said persuasively. He held his hand out. "My name's Jack, what's yours?"

"Jay," Rayne told him, briefly and firmly shaking the proffered hand. "I like to be on top, Jack."

"That's okay, I don't mind subbing," Jack grinned at him. "You look well good in those tight kecks."

He moved closer now and when Rayne did not increase the space between them automatically he tilted his head and touched his mouth to the vampire's cold, soft lips. At the same time the hand Rayne had just shaken reached between his legs and boldly groped his dick and balls through the tight denim.

"Fuck, you've got big knackers," Jack panted into his mouth. "Bet they make a lot of cum, Jay. I love eating cum. Have you got somewhere we can go, or do you want to go down by the canal?"

"You talk a lot, don't you?" Rayne said with a tired smile. He was contemplating taking the lad back to the apartment, which was nearer than his hotel, but the canal bank, under the bridge, would do. He might have to compete for space with other mating couples but the night was still young and it was only Tuesday, not a busy evening on the club circuit.

In the end he led Jack a little way up the canal bank to the next bridge where the sound from the clubs and bars was just a distant buzz. The boy crouched down there, popping the buttons of his fly, and sucked Rayne's dick without needing to be told. His warm hand gently worked the vampire's clean-shaven balls as he nodded and slurped. Rayne leaned back against the arch of the bridge and laced his fingers behind the boy's head, wishing it was Xavier on his knees in front of him. Jack wasn't anywhere near Xav's cock sucking skills but Rayne still pressed his head down until he could feel Jack nuzzling his mound, then fucked his throat rapidly.

"Uhhh... Jesus!" he panted as he shot his load in the blond's mouth and pulled out quickly, letting the gasping boy scramble up into his arms to kiss him; tasting his own salty spill on the blond's tongue and lips.

He was still half-hard and his nuts and the head of his prick were tingling pleasingly as he went down on one knee and started to suck Jack off. His fingers pulled the boy's white jeans down to mid thigh, exposing a nice thick seven incher and smooth waxed crotch. Rayne licked up and down his penis and sucked Jack's firm young balls. The sound of the busy city over their heads was almost inconsequential. They were about thirty feet below street level here and sheltered by the dark curve of the bridge and right now the only sounds that were important to Rayne Wylde were the pre-orgasmic moans of his young mate. Jack growled softly in his chest as he was taken deep into Rayne's throat and the pretty, dark-haired Londoner pressed two searching fingers up his arse, frigging him urgently.

"Man! You suck like a fuckin' bitch!" Jack yelped delightedly. He cried out harder as he began to thrust and cum in Rayne's mouth, the fingertips inside him touching just the right spot.

Rayne swallowed his thick, teen crème greedily. There was nothing to beat the feel of a young man's prodigious flow of cum on his tongue and it tasted heavenly. He stroked his cock as he suckled the last drops from Jack's throbbing knob-end.

"Turn around," he crooned, stroking the blond's naked thighs now. "Lean on the fuckin' wall. I'm gonna shag you til you can't stand up on your own."

"Ahhh... fuck, yeah!" Jack moaned happily as he rested his splayed hands against the dark brickwork and pushed his bare backside into Rayne's face.

The vampire's cool hands parted his cheeks and a wet, studded tongue explored Jack's crack vigorously for several minutes, making the blond wriggle and utter little cooing noises. When Rayne moved to his feet and bent over him, Jack's face turned back to meet him and they kissed for a while. Rayne eased his cock head into Jack slowly and began to buck his hard length into the blond's hot, wet rectum, his fingers gripping the boy's bare hips.

"Ohhh... man! Are you doing me bare?" Jack groaned, bucking like a wild mare as he felt his randy, black-haired stallion mount him.

"You don't mind, do you?" Rayne soothed, kissing his neck and feeling the rapid eager pulse just beneath the skin. "I'm clean, Jack. It's okay, really."

"I... uhhhhhh... I don't mind, Jay. I like it. I never had a guy go in me bare before though," Jack panted. "It feels fuckin' great. I wanna feel your cum up my arse."

Rayne pushed himself balls deep inside the blond then pulled back until just his head was inside. He did this a couple of times, feeling Jack whimper and writhe under him as he teased the kid. Then he began to thrust hard, shoving Jack against the wall with the force of his deceptively slender body. They were well matched for height, which he guessed Jack must have calculated when he was cruising for a mate. The blond was nice and tight around him although it did not take very long for Rayne's thrusting cock to open him up and get him hot, wet and slippery inside.

"Ahhhh... yeah!" Rayne groaned as he leaned into the blond and pounded his arsehole fast and deep. The firm muscles of Jack's rectum pulled and sucked on him until he was ready to burst again. "You are so fuckin' hot, Jacky boy. That is amazing."

"Uhhh... don't stop!" Jack whimpered. "Man! That feels so fuckin' good!"

"I'd like to get a little kinky, if you don't mind. I bite," Rayne panted in his ear.

"Oh fuck, yeah... anything!" the boy gasped as his mate surged deeper. "Whatever you fuckin' want. I am this close!"

He held up his smallest finger. Rayne's arms snaked about him tightly and he buried his face in the warm crook of Jack's neck and shoulder, sinking his extended fangs deep. He bucked fiercely into the blond, shutting out his emotions, just riding the tide of sexual pleasure and sinking into the coppery heat of his blood. He fed long and hard and the first shut off point did not come until he felt Jack shudder with the force of his own orgasm and sink to his knees. Rayne went down with him, coming hard into the boy as he held Jack close, kissing and licking his slender neck.

"Oh man! What did you do? I never felt like that with a guy?" Jack groaned huskily.

"You'll be okay," Rayne promised him, his heart still pounding. He had not taken so much from a feeder in ages and he was buzzing from it, feeling invincible. Usually he left them able to fend for themselves, but he worried that Jack would not even make it back up to the street.

Rayne moved to his feet and fastened his pants then made the boy decent. Jack was sprawled at his feet, still huffing rapidly. His face was very pale. Rayne touched him and fretted again that he was too cold. Rayne could feel the low level buzz in his veins that told him the boy had been speeding. The combination of amphetamines and blood loss was not a good one.

"Do you live locally?" he asked, coming to a crouch by the lad's side.

"Ardwick," Jack said faintly.

"Is there someone at home right now?" The vampire slapped his face gently to keep him focused.

"Uhh... maybe my mum... dunno," Jack slurred.

"Crap!" Rayne slid his arms under Jack's shoulders and eased him to his feet. It took him a little while to walk the boy back up to the street. And then there was no sign of a taxi anywhere.

Automatically he headed back towards the apartment. Rayne had not planned to go there so soon but he could not take Jack back to the hotel and he would not abandon him on the street in this state. It was less than a quarter of a mile to his old home.

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