by Thomas Nelson
Tyler heard the footsteps ring in the alley behind him. The boy was closing. Good. He had spent the better part of the evening walking up and down dimly list streets looking for this man, and now the hunt was almost done.
There were a lot of men out tonight. Men in their forties and older walked up and down Poplar Avenue, searching the night. Men in leather chaps and vests who hadn't been able to score in the bars. Their caps pulled down so that the brim covered their eyes. Red ribbons or safety pins fastened to their jackets, the meanings of these symbols conveniently forgotten once they found their trick for the night. Husbands who were looking for something their wives couldn't give them. After the score they would scurry home with stories about all the work backed up in the office or how much fun they had talking football with the boys over a cold beer. Then there were the thrill seekers, out looking for something exotic and dirty. They thrived out here, collecting hustlers the way bird watchers collect birds.
And then there were the young ones, most not much older than twenty. They wore tattered jeans and dirty tee-shirts, one or two had a leather jacket with some obscure symbol or band name stenciled on the back. They were all thin, either from the lack of a good meal or from the drugs that they pumped into their veins in place of food. Some of them gathered together in small groups underneath the glow of the streetlamps passing around a cigarette butt and talking quietly. Others stood alone or in pairs leaning up against store fronts and squatting in darkened doorways watching as the johns walked by.
Occasionally, a customer would stop and talk with one of the boys standing alone. After a bit, money would change hands and the two would walk off together. The more adventurous ones would go around the corner into one of the darkened alleys. Those who were worried about being caught, or could afford it, would go around the corner and rent a room at one of the cheap hotels where they were used to this kind of business and knew not to ask many questions.
Tyler wasn't interested in any of these. He had staked out his mark. He had watched him from the shadows for over a month now. The boy wasn't like the others. He was stalky, muscular and strong. He showed none of the signs of malnutrition displayed by the other hustlers on the street. Brown hair cut short over a high brow and blue eyes. His face was clean shaven, angular and handsome. He never talked with the other boys, whether that by his choice or theirs was unclear. Perhaps they felt that the boy didn't belong there, or perhaps he thought that they were beneath him.
The boy would stand alone and wait for a john to try and pick him up. Eventually one would stop and they would go off together into the shadows. When they were far enough away from the main street the boy would take out his knife and attack. He showed no mercy, he would cut his victim viciously and leave them to die. Most of the time they were dead within an our, but sometimes it took several hours. Tyler had sat and watched one poor soul who didn't expire until an hour before sunrise Even if another person heard the screams of the boy's victim, they wouldn't be able to find them in this maze of allies and side streets until it was too late.
There was a metal dumpster painted a dark forest green pushed up against the brick wall of a building. Tyler quickly stepped behind it and waited. The brick, pressed against his back, felt damp and cold.
Tyler's arm shot out and grabbed the boy as he passed. He swung him around and held him against the rough masonry. His feet dangled a full twelve inches above the pavement.
The knife started to fall from the boys grip. Tyler caught it in his free hand. Long, sharp... an excellent weapon. The blade glinted malevolently in the dim illumination provided by a distant lamp hung by the service door to some shop.
The boy looked down at Tyler from where the vampire held him, eyes wide with shock and surprise. This wasn't the way it was supposed to happen... He was the hunter, he was the one in control.
"You are mine, boy" Tyler gloated, as he ran his tongue against the edge of his fangs.
Ignoring his prisoner for a moment, Tyler examined the knife which he had captured from his prey. The boys face was reflected in its surface, distorted by the curve of the blade. So be beautiful, so sharp, so deadly.
Tyler traced the outline of the boy's check and throat with the dull edge of the knife. The pressure against his warm skin left a white streak which rapidly darkened to pink.
A scream was gathering in the boy's throat. Tyler could see it in his prisoner's bright blue eyes. Tyler brought the sharp edge up and pressed it against boy's lips. "Silence" he whispered.
The scream died before it could escape into the night.
He drew the blade down slowly, careful not to press too hard. A few crimson drops appeared where it had passed and clung to the boys lips. Tyler brushed his lips against the boy's forehead, gently, almost tenderly. He could taste fear in the boy's salty sweat. He brought his mouth to the boy's. At first running his tongue around the rim of his mouth, tasting those few droplets of blood that the knife had brought to the surface, like liquid fire on his lips. He pressed harder. Tyler could feel a stirring in the boy's groin.
Cautiously the boy began to return Tyler's kiss. Tyler parted his lips and the boy's tongue entered his mouth, hot and searching. Tyler bit down and the blood flowed. It filled his mouth with flaming liquid. A red fog began to descend on his brain. Tyler pushed the boy against the brick wall, and pulled his mouth away. He could have drained him through his mouth, but he wanted more.
Tyler looked at his prisoner, a heavy sweat had broken out on his face despite the cold night air. A dark stream of blood drooled lazily from his mouth, over his chin and dripped onto the front of his tee-shirt.
Tyler took the knife, which he still held in his right and dragged the dull edge down the boys throat. Tracing the tendons that ran from his jaw to his collar bone. Hooking the knife underneath the collar of his shirt, Tyler applied a small amount of pressure. The thin fabric gave easily. He continued the stroke down the body opening the front of the shirt. Tyler grabbed the left flap of cloth in his left hand and pulled it tight. In one quick movement he split it from just below the neckline to the end of the short sleeve. He repeated the process on the other side and the shirt fell away, revealing the boy's muscular chest. A patch of brown hair grew on his chest and a thin trail of it continued down, over the ribbed muscles of his stomach where it disappeared into the waist of his pants.
The boy inhaled quickly when Tyler ran his hand across his solid chest. Tyler could feel his heart beating beneath his breast. The coarse hair tickled the his palms as he moved them back and forth. The pressure in the boy's crotch was growing, pushing against the confines of his pants.
Tyler reached down and undid the buttons of the fly. They popped off of the fabric easily and lay on the ground, forgotten. He grasped the boy's dick, warm, thick with his blood, pulsing in time with his heartbeat. Tyler stepped back, "Remove your pants."
Slowly, unable to muster enough will to refuse, the boy complied. Stepping out of his tennis shoes and using both hands to push the blue denim down below his knees. He lifted his left leg out of his pants and used it to push them the rest of the way down.. He stood in the alley naked. His hard-on reached up between his muscular legs, a droplet of precum clinging to the tip.
Tyler smiled. He grabbed the boy's tit with his thumb and forefinger and squeezed, his dick bobbed up and down once as his muscles tensed. He then took the knife and drew a circle around his left tit. A thin scarlet line appeared behind the track of the knife. Applying just enough pressure to cut the skin, he continued the line down across his breastbone and over the ribbed muscles of the boy's stomach. Tyler brought the knife to a stop just above the base of his cock and tossed it away. He wouldn't be needing it anymore.
A few drops of blood had leaked from the shallow wound. Tyler reached down and grabbed the boy's swollen dick. He began to stroke it slowly, rhythmically. The vampire put his mouth over the boy's tit and bit down, not hard enough to break the skin. A moan escaped the boy's throat. It would not be long now.
Tyler moved his mouth over the bloody track he had made with the knife. The combined taste of blood and sweat made his head swim. Slowly he followed the scarlet trail with his tongue, dropping to his knees in front of the boy. He let go of his dick and took it into his mouth, the salty precum burned as the warm shaft pushed against the back of his throat. So much blood, separated by only this thin layer of skin.
The boy began to pound his dick into and out of the vampire's mouth more insistently. Faster, pushing against the back of Tyler's throat with the head of his cock. He moaned again.
Tyler pulled back and returned to stroking it with his hand. He pulled the boy's hairy balls into his mouth. The boys heart quickened.
Tyler pumped the dick harder and moved his lips to the inside of the boy's thigh. The boy's breathing became irregular. Tyler plunged his fangs into the vein in the boy's leg. The boy's blood filled his mouth and ran down his throat, filling his mind with a red haze. He barely felt the hot cum as it sprayed across the back of his neck and ran in small streams across the his hand as the boys thoughts and feelings rushed into his mind.
Anger, a passionate fire raged up and down their arms.
Desire, a torrent filled their breasts.
Fear, a smothering cloud settling around the base of their skulls.
And then the memories came. The men they had killed. Their dog, a shaggy beast waiting patiently by the door for them when they got home. Mom and dad, dead now. Faster and faster they came until an entire life had passed between them.
Tyler, lost in the blood and sensation, drank his fill.
When his mind cleared, the boy was slumped, naked, against the wall, cold, dead and drained.
Tyler stood up, straightened his shirt and dusted off his trouser. He turned on his heal and started to walk back out of the alley, he didn't offer the fresh corpse a second glance.
He was sated for tonight.
Tomorrow, he would hunger again.
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