Underwear Ch. 03bySadieRose©
Chapter 3: Under Orders
© sadierosebermingham 2004/5
"I am 'not' givin' you a key, that is my last word on the subject!" Rayne Wylde did not look up from the broadsheet newspaper spread out in front of him. His dark hair tumbled forward obscuring his pale features and he ran long fingers though it absently, resting his cheekbone against the palm of his hand and propping his elbow against the lip of the table. Sunlight glanced off the fine, silvery frames of the sunglasses perched within the nest of his mane and shimmered off the ripples of his black silk shirt, casually open at the neck, the sleeves rolled back to his elbows. His slim, black denim-clad legs were crossed lightly at the knee and he tapped the tapered toe of one boot to an inaudible soundtrack in his head as he pretended to read.
Across the café table, Kevan Delaney sighed gustily and tugged on the collar of his pale blue shirt, wishing he had elected to wear something cooler than the charcoal coloured wool suit to work today. Even with his jacket off and hanging over the back of the chair, he could feel the sweat beginning to run down his back. Of course, the sight of Ray looking so fucking delectable was enough to make any hot-blooded man perspire. He loosened his second best tie and unfastened one button, reaching for the condensation beaded pint glass by his right hand.
"I still 'aven't forgiven you for last time!"
Kev shifted at the memory this roused; a gorgeous mental image of his Vampiric lover stretched out on the bed between himself and the young Vampire's hot, blond-haired sire, Jabez Evermann. Rayne had refused to speak to him for two weeks afterwards. He even had the locks changed and the alarm code altered on his inner-city crash pad.
"I can't help how I feel about you," Kev protested weakly. "You do something to me, Ray. I can't fight it."
"Try!" the Vampire suggested without lifting his head. "I'm not your bloody girlfriend. I wish you'd stop treating me as if I was eighteen years old!"
"I just want to spoil you," Kevan muttered, taking a pull on his pint and scowling along the relative quiet of sun-kissed Canal Street. It was still early morning, but he had been working since four am and it 'felt' like lunchtime. Rayne took a sip from the cup of cooling black coffee beyond the edge of his paper and set it back in its saucer without moving his eyes from the page in front of him.
"You've been 'not reading' that article for ten minutes now," Kev pointed out. "Are you gonna carry on punishing me until I have to go back to the office?"
"I'm not doing anything. You're punishing yourself," the Vampire told him crisply. His soft, husky, Kentish accented voice made Kev ache to taste the lips that spilled those casually cruel words.
"I want to take you out for dinner," he declared more adamantly. "To apologise."
"I thought that was what you were doing now." Rayne exhaled the words wearily.
"Tonight, I mean. Properly." Kevan leaned forward on the table and rustled the corner of his lover's newspaper. "To a restaurant, me and you. Together."
Rayne's head came up slowly and he peered through his sable forelock at the mortal almost sleepily. Long, black lashes framed a stare like green ice. The tip of his upturned nose protruded through the silk of his hair and Kev resisted the urge to kiss it.
"I miss you," he said instead.
"Don't be ridiculous!" A mildly cynical smile twisted Rayne's full, seductive lips briefly.
"I want to take you home right now and make love to you," Kevan breathed, refusing to avert his own cloudy blue eyes. "I've got a present for you. A surprise."
"If it involves dressing up, I'm not playing," Rayne's lips parted. There were fangs behind that smile, just in case his mortal companion had forgotten what he was messing with.
Kev sat back slightly, but he did not look away. Sometimes it was easy to put out of his mind just what Ray was. His tiny, slender frame and apparent vulnerability were powerfully deceptive. Kevan Delaney had watched him kill. It was not a pretty sight.
Sometimes, however, when the other man was curled up in his arms and he could touch his lips to the smooth, cool skin at the nape of his neck and bury his face in that sleek, black hair, he allowed himself to believe that Rayne Wylde actually needed him for more than blood and sex. He even convinced himself.
"You're such a fox, Wylde!" he said, with a shake of his head. Sitting back from the table he lifted the glass to his lips and drained it steadily. "I've got to go. I'll come by for you at seven, okay?"
"You're presuming I've said yes." The Vampire looked up at him as he rose, that odd little smile still quirking his mouth upward at the corners. His heart-shaped face was porcelain-pale in the sunlight and those astonishing eyes glittered dangerously.
"You can't resist me," Kev told him, winking knowingly.
"Seven's early." Rayne sat back and folded his arms. The light glittered off the silver ring on his index finger and the heavy curb chain around his left wrist.
"You won't be ready, you never are. The table's booked for nine-fifteen. Chiaroscuro. You like Italian, don't you?" He was already moving off, if he lingered, the urge to go back and kiss Ray hard would completely ruin his efforts to remain casual about this whole proposal. And Ray would not be impressed, which defeated the object of his coming here. "I'll see you then."
"I suppose so," the Vampire sighed, and returned to his newspaper.
He pretended to read until he could be sure that the big fellow was out of sight, then folded the paper up and sat back with a little frown on his handsome face. Saying 'no' to Kev Delaney was like putting a Labrador puppy into a bag with several large rocks and throwing it into the canal. He could not understand it for the Unlife of him. He was Undead. He did not feel 'sorry' for mortals. As time went by and more of his friends passed away or slipped out of his acquaintance, he had hardened his heart against such things. Once, when Jabez had told him that this was how it would be, he had argued strenuously against the older, more experienced Vampire but now he wondered at himself.
Killing would never easy, but he could do it without throwing up afterwards these days. And there were plenty of people out there for whom death was simply too merciful. Kev was a different matter. He was a big, warm-hearted, bumbling idiot of a man and, for the first time in many years, Rayne felt protective towards another soul. More than that; he felt cherished.
It should have been a good feeling, but Rayne Wylde was only disturbed by it.
He changed his clothes several times between six and seven o' clock, posing in front of the full-length wardrobe mirror like a teenager on her first date. The first attempt felt too formal, he was not accustomed to wearing a suit and the material was stiff and restrictive. The loose, flowing neckline of the shirt he replaced it with was too feminine. Kev would love it but Rayne was less comfortable. The black elastane-lace tee-shirt was see through and he dismissed it after a few moments of posing as inappropriate for a restaurant environment. He was wearing sable satin trousers that hugged his skinny hips and lean thighs, and a gauzy, muslin shirt in smoke-grey when the intercom buzzed through from the hallway.
Kev lumbered up to the lounge with several carrier bags, all from exclusive designer outlets, tucked under one arm. He wore a dark, linen two piece suit and a cream-coloured, round-necked shirt with no tie. It looked good on him and showed off the tireless work he had been doing in the gym since they met. Rayne experienced a little frisson of pride at the achievement he had motivated. Short, dark red curls were slicked back from the mortal's high forehead with sculpting wax and he smelled delicious.
"Whassat?" Rayne wanted to know, pointing to the bags, which his companion dropped onto the leather sofa in the living area.
"Little pressie," Kev told him, grinning from ear to ear. "I thought you could wear 'em tonight."
The Vampire's pale eyes narrowed suspiciously, but he parted the folds of one, small, paper carrier carefully and peered into it. A blue, tissue-paper parcel lay innocuously in the bottom. A very tiny little parcel. Carefully he lifted and unwrapped it. The black silk spilled out into his hands and he held it several ways up before deducing that it was an incredibly minuscule, virtually backless dress. The shoulder straps were ribbon thin and set with tiny little diamante pieces.
"What am I supposed to do with this?" he asked in a carefully neutral voice.
"You could try it on," Kev was keeping his distance. Rayne Wylde almost heard him mentally calculate how long it would take him to reach the door if his plan backfired on him.
"I am 'not' going out in this!" Rayne informed him flatly.
"There's a coat," Kev suggested helpfully.
The largest of the bags did indeed contain a three-quarter length, fake fur coat (Kev was not mad enough to suggest that he wore a real one, he knew his lover at least so well by now). It was mostly white with a peppering of black strands that shifted and intensified depending on how the material moved. He stroked it as if it was alive. The fur was soft and warm under his hands.
"What the hell is going on here?" he whispered to himself.
"I'd love to see you in it. Even if you decide to wear something else. Please." Kev gazed hopefully at him. "No funny business. Only... it's important. I'll tell you why when we get to the restaurant."
"Why can't you tell me now?" Rayne glanced sidelong at him, immediately suspicious.
"Trust me," the mortal implored.
"Why 'should' I?"
"Because... because I love you," Kevan stood his ground but Rayne felt himself sway slightly. It was what he had been dreading ever since this fiasco began. Three little words, the words that had driven him away from countless lovers. "I lo..."
"I 'eard you." Rayne cut him off sharply. "You don't have to say it again."
"I know you don't feel the same," Kev ventured sadly, resting a demonstrative hand on his chest. "But it doesn't change what's in here, Ray."
"You 'think' you love what you 'think' I am, but... I'm 'not' that person, Kevan," the Vampire growled softly. "Even dolled up in dresses and stockings, I'm not the person you think I am!"
Kev had come closer as he spoke and now he touched a tentative hand to Rayne's cheek.
"I know. I understand more than you think," he said gravely. "I'm asking a favour of you now. Do this for me tonight. Wear this tonight and I'll leave you alone if that's what you really want. I know I embarrass you, Ray. I know you don't love me, that you think I'm a joke."
"I don't think that!" Wide green eyes darted to meet the mortal's injured expression. "I 'never' thought that!"
"You are so beautiful," Kev whispered, stroking his face tenderly. "I must have been out of my mind to think that someone like you could even give half a damn about someone like me."
"No..." Rayne closed his mouth, unsure what to say. He looked down at the cascade of faux-mink in his hands and swallowed his pride.
It took him a little under an hour to get the outfit on. The basque top was low cut at the back and full-cupped to give him the hourglass shape that the clingy, black silk dress required. The skirt was loose and drifted against his thighs like a soft breeze. Beneath it, black-silk stockings attached to the suspenders hanging down from his basque and the knickers were black lace with embroidered roses and a thong back. Kev had brought shoes to go with the dress, little strappy kitten heel mules all glittering with sparkling stones. The mortal knelt and fastened the ankle straps as Rayne perched in front of the mirror on his dresser and attended to his makeup. He twisted his shaggy hair up into a knot at the back and fastened it with a glittery bulldog clip.
Kev returned from the living room with another bag and presented him with three little boxes, one after another. The necklace and earrings were pure art deco, a diamante collar with a single, shimmering dropper that sat in the hollow of his clavicle and two cascades of tiny stones that hung from silver wires through his earlobes.
"They're so heavy," he whispered. "I daren't move my head. I'll take someone's eye out!"
Kev said nothing, only kissed the back of his neck and the bare skin between his shoulder blades. He opened the smallest box and knelt down between his lover's knees. Glossy lips parted in a silent 'Ohh' as the Vampire stared at the contents of the little box in his hand. The diamond was a solitaire, in a white gold setting, a stunning square-cut stone held in place by four delicate claws so that it looked as if it was suspended in air.
He took Rayne's left hand gently and murmured; "I hope it fits. It should do. I measured your finger to be on the safe side."
"You did 'what'? 'When'?" Rayne stared at him.
Solemnly, Kevan removed the ring from the box and slid it onto his third finger where it sat loosely, but was kept from slipping off by the Vampire's knuckle.
"My pinkie ring fits your ring finger almost perfectly," Kev admitted. "I tried it when you were asleep once."
"How long have you been plotting this?"
"Since I met you," the mortal confessed. "God Ray, you look so beautiful. You remind me of a young Liz Taylor, sitting there like Cleopatra. I want you so much."
He rose to his feet and unfastened his pants. Rayne looked helplessly from the diamond on his slender finger to the stiffening hard-on pushing its way free of his companion's trouser fly.
"We'll be late," he said weakly.
"It's not half eight yet," Kev reasoned, stroking the back of his neck encouragingly. He parted Rayne's legs with his knees and stood between his thighs, drawing the Vampire's full, glossy lips onto his cock head. "I want to give you a little apéritif, gorgeous."
Rayne closed his eyes as Kevan's fat, spunk-jewelled prick eased between his teeth and rested on his tongue. He licked the underside of it tenderly, stroking the ridges of his lover's rolled back foreskin, tasting the salty stream of pre-cum in his mouth. He was very conscious of the diamond on his finger as he began to suck Kev's throbbing cock, taking it all the way into his mouth and nuzzling the musky heat of his mate's hairy crotch.
Kevan cupped the singer's pretty face in both hands and began to thrust enthusiastically into the wetness between those hot, pouting lips. Rayne sucked on him obediently. He loved giving head, by his own confession and Kev was all too happy to oblige him in that respect. Rayne was the only lover he had ever had who would deep throat him willingly and he was already hard and throbbing from watching the young man get dressed. This was not going to take him long at all.
"Pull your skirt up and stroke yourself, angel," he panted now, bucking hard against the back of Rayne's throat, feeling the tightness of his oesophagus around the head of his thrusting cock. "I want to watch you in the mirror."
The Vampire slid a hand willingly into his panties and freed his own, rising sex. One of the claws on his ring caught in the lace and he swore incoherently around the tool in his mouth, struggling to free himself and jerk off. At last he resorted to his right hand and rubbed his prick awkwardly, unused to masturbating this way. It had the desired effect on Kevan, who came in his mouth almost instantly; grinding his crotch into Rayne's face as the first hot spurt of semen left his nuts, then half withdrawing so the Vampire could swallow his cum greedily.
"Oh you dirty girl," he panted. "You've missed my cock in your mouth, haven't you?"
Rayne fired a withering look at him through his lashes, licking his lips as Kev's erection subsided and slipped out of him. The mortal knelt down now and freed his ring hand from the tangle of lace, tucking the Vampire's half-hard cock back into his knickers.
"Come on, my love. That'll keep me hot, thinking of you sitting there in the car with a boner in your panties," he teased.
"You are a cunt," Rayne told him acerbically.
"And you are my slut. And a gorgeous slut you are too!" Kev winked at him.
Kevan parked the Saab on yellow lines outside the little restaurant in the financial district. At once he sprang out of the car and hurried around to open the passenger side door, holding out his hand to the reluctant Vampire within. Rayne's long fingers felt cold against his palm and there was more than a hint of trepidation in his lover's pale eyes as he hesitated there, clinging to Kevan's hand like a child.
"I can't do this."
"'Course you can," Kev assured him breezily. "You 'know' you can. You know how bloody fabulous you look, Ray! Get up here and give me a kiss."
Warily, Rayne allowed himself to be coaxed from the security of the vehicle, onto the pavement. In spite of the enveloping warmth of the fur that wrapped him up from his neck to just above his knees, he still felt naked; exposed. In the long, smoked-glass windows he caught a glimpse of his reflection and felt sick with a sensation he recognised belatedly as stage-fright. It had been years since he had cause to feel this way and he shivered miserably.
Kevan's mouth was hot and needy on his own and the randy mortal eased groping hands inside his coat and tried to pull up Rayne's skirt as they kissed against the side of the car. At once the Vampire pushed him away.
"I can't help it," Kev was grinning at him enthusiastically. "I just can't wait to get you home and fuck you!"
"Can we just do this and get it over with?" Rayne insisted through clenched teeth. "Better still, can we go home and fuck 'now'?"
Kev patted his fur-clad backside encouragingly.
"I've booked the table," he said as if this negated all his companion's arguments. "Go and let them know we're here, love, while I park the car."
He had jumped back into the Saab and was turning the engine over before Rayne was able to find the words to curse him. Fuming silently on the pavement as the mortal drove away, Rayne Wylde briefly considered walking off and not coming back, but it would take him a good twenty minutes to walk home in these heels. Longer, if he skirted the Gay Village!
Taking a deep, unnecessary breath, the Vampire pushed his hands into the pockets of his abundant mock mink and took a couple of steps towards the door. It was opened for him before he reached it and an efficient, black-clad maitre-d ushered him inside and offered to take his coat. Rayne smiled rather awkwardly at him and allowed the fellow to slip the outer garment from his shoulders and hang it up for him.
"Signorina, you have a booking?" he enquired politely. "Only we are fully booked this evening."
Rayne cleared his throat. His voice still sounded far too deep and husky in his own ears as he murmured; "Um... Delaney. My – uh – partner, he's... um... just... coming."
'Probably true... Bastard!' the little voice in his head added snidely.
"You would like a drink while you wait?" the maitre-d prompted, steering Rayne carefully to a seated area beyond the bar and keeping his expression perfectly neutral.
If he had been mortal, Rayne's cheeks would have been crimson by now. As it was, he still felt a flush of unaccountable heat spread across his pale face. He was quite sure that this inscrutable Italian had seen right through him, even if he was too well trained to let it show.
"Erm... vodka and tonic, please," he mumbled, lowering his head and clasping his hands together in his lap.
As the Maitre-D returned to the bar, the door opened, allowing a rush of cold air into the foyer. Rayne glanced up, hoping to see Kevan come to his rescue, but the man who came into the restaurant was taller and slightly older. His hair was still thick, but turning white and receding from his forehead. He wore an expensive, but understated taupe suit and greeted the waiters and the Maitre-D affably by name. Rayne heard them apologising that they had no tables free until much later in the evening. The customer seemed unruffled by this news and asked for a scotch and soda. Whilst the bar tender was fixing his drink, he looked around the restaurant casually. His steady gaze passed over Rayne then came back to him. At once, Rayne Wylde looked away, pretending interest in a vase of lilies standing in the nearest window.