BYRON CHANCE:THE DARKLY EROTIC LIFE OF A DHAMPIR: A Full Moon Series Companion novel

by P. Mattern

  “How do you know if you’ve never tried?” he asked pointedly, still staring at Byron in a way that made Byron increasingly uncomfortable.

  “I don’t I guess.” Byron answered. “But I don’t think about dudes when I’m jerking off, I can tell you that.”

  Chaz seemed to find Byron’s pronouncement funny for some reason.

  “I never did either,” he said, half chuckling,” but real life sex can be quite different than imaginary sex.

  Suddenly he stepped around the side of the table and held out his hand to Byron.

  “Come with me little boy,” he said smiling, “I want to show you something.”

  Curious, Byron allowed Chaz to pull him up the hallway. Chaz stopped at the door to his room. He was the only one of the young people living in the apartment with Herb and Tansy that actually had a room to himself.

  Byron only had a moment to look around Chaz’s room. It was decorated in modern style that took advantage of the small space, and the furnishings were upscale: leather sofa and matching chair, a low slung bed that looked to be queen size , several dressers and a glassed in bookshelf full of volumes. Byron’s appraisal was interrupted by Chaz’s mouth pressing firmly against his, and Chaz’s tongue thrusting into his own mouth as the other boy pinned him against the back of the bedroom door.

  At the same time, Chaz summarily unbuttoned Byron’s pants, and jerked the zipper down with conviction.

  A part of Byron’s mind was analyzing everything that was happening to him. Chaz’s kissing was pleasant. There was a tender strength in the lolling motions of his tongue against Byron’s tongue. Chaz’s 5 0’clock shadow tickled a little, but the hand that Chaz had slid inside the front opening of Byron’s briefs didn’t tickle, it felt good.

  Byron felt his penis harden. Chaz pulled back from Byron’s face to tell him,

  “See? A stiff prick has no conscience ..that’s what I was trying to tell you.”

  Chaz slid down the length of Byron’s body until he was on his knees facing him. Byron looked down on the top of Chaz’s head as Chaz said gruffly,

  “I’m going to suck your big prick now Byron. It will be the best blow job you’ve ever had, because only boys can do boys like this!”

  Byron moaned involuntarily as he felt Chaz caress the head of his penis with his adroit tongue, strumming the length of it before it slid effortlessly into his mouth.Byron thought he might explode when Chaz began to exert sucking pressure, all the while making sounds as if he thoroughly enjoyed what he was doing.

  Byron relaxed as a miasma of pleasure descended over his vision, felt his cock jerk spasmodically into the sucking wet vortex of Chaz’s mouth. It registered that Chaz swallowed every drop of his cum, without allowing any of it to escape.

  After a few moments Chaz stood. Byron was still pressed against the door, though his knees felt weak. Chaz pressed his forehead against Byron’s. His lips looked red and swollen, almost bruised. The pupils of his eyes were as dilated as if he were on drugs.

  “So…you see?” he said.

  As Byron flushed slightly and nodded, Chaz continued,

  “Don’t worry about having to reciprocate-I know you’re not into it. But I made you come Byron Chance…don’t forget that either.”

  Byron was making money, both for himself and the delighted couple Herb and Tansy. Tansy was busy trying to get Byron an agent who would cut herself and Herb in for a good percentage as “advisor/promoters”. Byron appreciated his biweekly sessions with Mrs. K even more after what Chaz had said, because he felt that he was right about the older woman just needing the love and affection that should be accorded any human being.

  Besides, he really LIKED doing her. Finding her sensitive points, discovering what positions made her climax the hardest-all of these were continuing mysteries to solve that kept his sexual relations with her fresh.

  Some of the sexual revelations had been surprising. He discovered that she loved for him to shove two fingers up into her anus just before she came. She also enjoyed giving him head. She wasn’t as practiced as Chaz, but Byron felt her enjoyment as she knelt and pleasured him, licking his inner thighs and private area, holding each of his testicles in her mouth gently and in turn.

  And then there was the matter of the sex toys.

  Mrs. K had an extensive collection, as well as lotions, flavored ones that could be licked off( Byron had discovered he loved the strawberry flavor poured over wet pussy), or provided hot or cool sensations when applied to their genitalia.

  She didn’t like to be tied up-but his officially non-existent other regular customer, a petite blonde woman named Colette, did. Mrs. K was never to know that he wasn’t hers exclusively, and Byron had already run into a schedule conflict in which he had just finished a session with Colette and was called for an “S.E.” or Sexual Emergency, over to Mrs. K’s. It had turned out fine, since Mrs. K just wanted straight and romantically old fashioned missionary position sex, but Byron had reflected that it still had been a sexual marathon of sorts.

  As far as Byron knew, he didn’t have a limit.

  He was feeling like quite the cocksman when he keyed into the apartment one afternoon. Mrs. K had been less demanding than usual, had given him a present of a brand new leather jacker, a silk bandana, and 14K gold hoop earrings that she wanted him to wear the next time he came….she was into a pirate fantasy thing lately and was liking him to rip open her lace up bodices and “ravish her”, just like in her pirate mommy porn romance stories that she enjoyed reading.

  Byron has listened to see if anyone was home, and at first didn’t pick up on the sounds traveling down the hallway, which seemed to be a mature woman’s voice, a man’s deep voice almost growling, and a higher younger female voice repeating the same word over and over.

  Curious, he bypassed the kitchen where he’d been headed to grab a soda, and walked up the hallway.

  The door to Herb and Tansy’s bedroom was cracked open about 4 inches.

  The scene laid out before his eyes was unbelievable.

  Raven, completely nude, her firm young breasts bounching with every thrust, had a completely nude dark haired man with a balding spot on top of her, grunting, his hairy ass and testicles facing the open doorway. In an overstuffed chair beside the bed, sat Tansy. Tansy was fully dressed, but had her skirt up around her waist and her legs spread apart over the arms of the upholstered chair. Her vagina was covered with an abundance of dark curly public hair, her head was thrown back, and she was masturbating herself as she watched Herb fucking Raven. She was also barking orders(“Suck her titties! Fuck her harder!”) as she played with herself.

  It was Raven’s voice he had also heard in the kitchen. The phrase she was repeating was ,”Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!” over and over.

  It was Tansy who noticed him first. He had, without realizing what he was doing, pushed the door inward until it was fully three quarters of the way open.

  She straightened up in the chair, smoothing her skirt down with her hands as Herb froze in the act of pumping Raven. Tansy looked at Byron as he stood frozen against the doorjamb. When she spoke there was no hint of expression on her still flushed face.”Byron! You’re home early. Would you care to join us?”

  Over Herbs shoulder Byron saw Raven sit up and stare at him. She looked beautiful, her curls piled on top of her head and roses in her cheeks. She had no expression on her face as they wordlessly stared at each other.

  His body moving before his mind registered any thoughts at all, Byron backed away from the door, pulling it closed.

  He thought he heard Raven call his name as he grabbed up his new jacket and exited, pulling the door closed with a slam and exiting the stairwell two steps at a time. He felt numb. He couldn’t wrap his mind around what he had just seen. The ugly rawness of it.

  Herb fucking Raven-was this what she’d meant when she said she was Herb’s “favorite”?

  Tansy with her legs spread, rubbing her glistening labia while she watched Herb and Raven fu
cking-Tansy had been like a mother to him. Seeing her like that filled him with revulsion. He literally wanted to puke.

  And the way she had offered for him to join them, as casually as though she were offering him a cold drink? Unbelievable.

  On the street he looked to the right and the left, remembering as he did so that Herb had given him a new ID, commensurate with his recent growth spurt and fuller beard, that declared him to be 22 years old.

  He decided right then and there that he was going to a bar. Herb and Tansy were rather strict about ‘drinking and drugging’ as they termed it. But he was in the mood to try something daring.

  His stomach was tied up in knots. He was filled with self-reproach-who had he thought that he was working for? Herb and Tansy’s operation wasn’t Boy or Girl Scout Camp, even though on the surface it seemed like it sometimes. Raven was just trying to survive just as he was.

  The picture frozen in his mind of Herb on top of her, plugging away, made him sorry and sad and sick to his stomach.

  He flew down the street toward the bar district, not sure whether he’d return to Herb and Tansy’s. He had a bank account now, a Visa card, a couple thousand dollars. That was enough to escape to somewhere-anywhere else, and start over.

  A lump rose in his throat. He knew that it had everything to do with Raven.

  Maybe she would leave with him, and they could start a new life together. He thought that he could make money on his own now. Maybe he could find a real job, or maybe he could sell sex until they got settled.

  The darkness of the bar’s interior was a welcome relief. Byron briefly considered taking a seat at the bar and then decided on a booth located in the very back. He wanted to drink alone.

  “What’ll it be?” the red haired waitress asked, appearing out of nowhere. She had her curly hair piled loosely on top of her head, gold hoop earrings and orangy red lipstick outlining her pouting lips. Seeing him staring up at her, she smiled, revealing a charming gap between her teeth.

  Byron wasn’t really prepared for her question, but said the first thing that came to mind, something he’d heard Herb refer to once.

  “Imported beer-Japanese if you’ve got it.” He requested. He waited for the waitress to card him, but she just left to get him his beer.

  Byron congratulated himself on a good choice. He was pretty confident he would like the taste of beer, because he liked how it smelled.

  Relaxing a little, he perused his surroundings. The bar was a bit dingy, but seemed okay. Only a few solitary patrons had taken seats at the bar, but more seemed to be coming in every few minutes. Checking the clock over the bar area he realized it was approaching the proverbial “Happy Hour.”

  The waitress brought his beer. It looked deliciously cool and beckoning, rivulets of condensation dripping down the outside of the amber bottle onto the small scalloped paper coaster she’d set it on.

  The first sip was good, the second spectacular. Almost immediately he felt a lightening of his mood, and he stared around him in curiosity, his problems receding to a dull ache in the back of his brain.

  He found that he was being stared at himself, by a pale, dark haired woman who was a dead ringer for the raven haired sister in the 80’s band Heart. Her long spiral permed hair flowed past her shoulders over full breasts protruding from her low cut black tank top. She was sitting facing the back of the bar, apparently the only one seated in the semicircular booth she was in. There was a drink in front of her on a napkin that was an oddly phosphorescent green color.

  She never took her eyes off of him, as he sat slouched against the padded back of the booth.

  He decided that that was a good thing.

  He was not very surprised when she eventually rose, drink in hand and took a seat opposite him. He was, however, taken aback by her ‘pick up line.’

  Leaning forward to peer more deeply into his eyes, she asked.

  “What ARE you?”

  Byron hadn’t been prepared for the question. It brought back confusing memories that he’d buried as deeply as possible and then thrown away the shovel. All the memories centered around the crazy, insane babbling his mother directed at him as he was leaving home.

  Something about his father being a vampire.

  Something about his being a freak.

  Something about the kind of freak he was being a result of his being the offspring of a vampire and a human.

  Something called a “dampeer”-although he had no idea how to spell it.

  “You should close your mouth,” the woman said, You’re starting to drool. You don’t smell very old…how old are you… in human years?”

  She took a sip of her drink as she finished, closing her eyes briefly, then allowing them to pop open, an interested expression on her face.

  Byron gulped, his throat suddenly dry. He realized that he still had a half bottle of beer in front of him and quickly took a few swallows, his eyes never leaving the dark-to-the point-of-being-black eyes of the woman sitting across from him.

  “Almost fourteen,” he answered truthfully.

  The woman smirked.

  “And it never occurred to you to wonder WHY you look like a full grown man of 25 or so? Actually if you were a full on vampire, you would have evidenced the same physical developmental changes even earlier. You would have looked like a young man of 13 or 14 at 12 months of age…ONE human year.

  But that’s the thing about humanity-it weighs you down, literally and figuratively. I bet you can’t even fly!” she finished with a rueful tone in her voice, as if she felt sorry for him.”You can’t, can you?”

  Byron thought about the times he’d sprung several feet upwards from the basketball court to slam dunk a basketball into the net with authority. While it was true his prowess exceeded that of any of his team mates, he knew that if he was able to fly he would have done so by now.

  “No I can’t.” he answered, his voice brittle.”I’m Byron by the way, Byron Chance. And you, the bearer of lousy tidings, are-?”

  “Lilith.” She replied, smiling a little.”But don’t get excited, I’m not the original Lilith, although I’m told that I favor her.”

  Byron realized that he was hungry, even desperate for more details about who, or what, he was.

  “How did you know I wasn’t a vampire?” he asked.

  “Your smell.” she said quickly.”Vamps usually have natural smells-like rain, wood, wind, or the ocean. Older vamps smell like spices. You have a half and half scent attached to your corporeal being…” she closed her eyes and inhaled deeply into the space between them,”sort of like a mix of wet dog and freshly mowed grass.”

  Lilith couldn’t help but laugh at the expression on Byron’s face.

  “Okay Byron-I made up the ‘wet dog’ part-but you do smell like meadow grass-and that perfumed smell that all humans carry because they are full of blood. It’s quite an intoxicating smell. Like the scent of fine wine.”

  Byron’s stormy countenance lightened up a little and he leaned forward conspiratorially.

  “So would you like a taste? Of me, I mean?”

  Lilith stared at him, horrified.

  “That would be strictly forbidden,” she answered, a look of horror in her eyes. The V-net-our governing organization-strictly forbids the Turning of Dhampirs. Dhampirs are an endangered phylum anyway, and it would upset a very delicate ecological balance to turn what Dhampirs are left into vampires.”

  “I do have fangs, though.” Byron said thoughtfully,”I noticed one night when I was having a nightmare about being attacked, and I felt something funny happening , like my teeth were cutting into my lip.

  When I went into the bathroom to check it out in the bathroom mirror I saw myself with fangs. The tip of one of them had pierced my lip a little, and it was bleeding. And then, before I was even fully awake, they disappeared. I thought that it all must have been part of my dream. Until I saw that my lower lip had been pierced…and then I wasn’t sure.”

  Lilith looked at him sobe
rly.

  “I understand your confusion. I was Turned one night by my best guy friend. We’d known each other since third grade, and I started seeing him differently one day. He didn’t seem as dorky, and he was handsomer and more self assured-changes that seemed to happen overnight. Other girls at my High School were noticing to-for the first time in his life he was getting attention from females. His name was Jim.

  It was his OWN Turning that made him so virile, handsome, attractive. And I wanted him so badly. I didn’t know that he’d been Twice Turned by his Aunt and had the Bloodlust at that point, or I would have run the other way.”

  “Whoa!” Byron said, sitting up, ”I didn’t quite copy that last part. What does Twice Turned mean?”

  Lilith shook her head slightly and rolled her eyes up at the ceiling as if she were getting impatient with him.

  “If a vampire feeds on you once, it may not change you to a vampire. But if it happens a second time, the venom will augment the initial venom from your first Turning and cause permanent changes in the structure of your DNA!

  Wow!” she added, shaking her head some more.”You’re really clueless, aren’t you?”

  Byron realized that he was feeling something indefinable radiating outward from Lilith-not so much a defined scent but a warmth that issued out like an invisible, ordorless fog from beneath her skirt, from under her armpits…even from the area beneath her breasts, where they rested, round, firm and unfettered against her rib cage.

  For all her exasperation, for all her obvious prejudice at his Dhampirness, he could tell that she wanted him.

  “Where?” he asked. It was the only question that didn’t need a verbalized answer, and he received none. Retrieving a clutch wallet from a pocket in her skirt she quickly (so quickly that his half-human eyes were unable to follow her movements) peeled off two bills from a folded wad of bills and motioned for him to follow her.

  It was twilight, and she moved along the sidewalk at an unbelievable pace. Byron had to lengthen his steps to keep up with her. They finally arrived at a narrow brownstone where she keyed herself and Byron in with a quickness.