A Passage Into Darkness – Part 1
Rene’s eyes snapped open as he became conscious. Blue eyes stared into the darkness, seeing nothing and everything, senses instantly awake. Over the musty odor of the small room, he could smell the jasmine from outside the house, as well as a gumbo from next door. At 7:30 on a Thursday night in May, the traffic had calmed from commuters heading home from work, but was just beginning to pick up again as people made their way out for an evening meal.
Rene heard music from the bars on Magazine Street, but two miles from the French Quarter, the music was more subdued. Nine blocks south, the wild smell of the Mississippi came to him as it flowed southward. Rene was hungry. Rene was almost always hungry.
Rising from the bare, stained mattress in the corner of what used to be a servants room, Rene stretched, more from habit than anything. At four-foot-ten he was small, but lithe, a slender thing who revealed hairless armpits as his arms lifted over his head. Settling his slim shoulders, he shook his head and ran fingers through his shoulder-length, pale yellow hair. He heard laughter from a passing car, and his head followed the sound as it faded into the distance.
The boy bent to pick his clothes up off the floor. He didn’t wear them to bed, believing that they stayed fresher longer if he didn’t. He slipped into dingy, once-white briefs, then stepped into tight, tattered bluejeans. An overlarge faded black Jurassic Park t-shirt hung well below his skinny waist, and he thrust bare feet into threadbare tennis shoes.
Going to the door, he unlocked the padlock, the dial spinning almost soundlessly in the darkness. Pulling the door open, he carefully snuck his left arm out around the concealing sheet of plaster-covered wood, gripping the wooden shelf which blocked it, then he pushed. He slid through the small crack, then pulled the door closed before carefully moving wall and shelf back into place. It wasn’t an expert job, but Rene thought it would pass a casual observation. All the water-swollen books and broken knickknacks on the shelf had been superglued so they wouldn’t rattle or fall when he moved it. If you didn’t know better, you probably wouldn’t suspect there was a room behind it.
All the windows in the house were boarded over, and had been even before Rene had found the place. He drifted silently down the hall, his eighty-some pounds barely making a sound on the rotting stairs as he left the third floor. As always, the smell of mold and mildew, wet and rot, hit him as an almost physical force, but Rene was used to the smell. Still in almost total darkness, Rene padded down the familiar hallways to the back of the house. Peeling wallpaper lined the walls. The house was dilapidated, but still, there was a certain grandeur, a faded opulence to the place, that Rene appreciated. To judge from the narrow, Greek Revival moldings, the decorative scrollwork and other architectural details, the place had once been a wonder.
In a back bedroom on the second floor, Rene pushed aside a board covering one of the windows. While all the other windows were nailed and boarded shut, the board covering this window was hung by an eyelet attached halfway along its length, and it swiveled easily. The glass was missing here, and with a quick peek outside, Rene dropped to the ground fifteen feet below. He landed in a crouch, listening, testing the air. The back of the house was surrounded by trees and overgrown bushes, but he always checked, just to make sure.
Then the small boy pushed his way agilely through the hedges into the yard of his unknowing neighbor before stepping out onto the sidewalk of Chestnut Street. Turning right, he walked by the front of what he considered his house, a bedraggled old pink and gray Greek Revival mansion on the corner of Chestnut and First Street in the Garden District of New Orleans.
Four blocks to the west brought Rene to the Lafayette Cemetery. The place closed at 2:30 on weekdays, but that had never stopped Rene. He easily made his way up and over the seven foot, whitewashed stone wall which surrounded the place. Then he meandered along the little lanes, looking at the crypts and mausoleums almost longingly. Sometimes people would come here. Kids mostly, some young adults, all looking for a bit of spooky fun. Rene mostly avoided them, and preferred being alone with his thoughts and the silence of the dead.
Tonight Rene was alone, but of course it was early yet, and fun-seeking trespassers usually didn’t appear until later, if they appeared at all. Rene’s tennis shoes slid over broken paving stones and clumps of struggling grass as he slipped silently down the lanes before stopping, as he most often did, before a particular crypt which always caught his attention. It was about a ten by ten block of white stone with a bit of decorative scrollwork on the top which announced itself to be for the ‘Society for the Relief of Destitute Orphan Boys’. It was dated 1894. Rene often thought about those boys, his small finger tracing their names in the stone, feeling a kinship to them. After all, wasn’t he a destitute orphan boy? After having looked up the word destitute in a dictionary, he decided he was. He wondered, not for the first time, if anyone would ever bother to give him such a nice burial place. He thought it was unlikely.
After an hour of wandering, alone with his dark thoughts, Rene exited the cemetery on the side opposite of where he’d entered and turned right along Prytania Street. Twenty minutes of casual walking brought him to Coliseum Square Park. It wasn’t much of a park, Rene figured. Skinny and about three blocks long, but it had a fountain, and some benches, and unlike other nearby parks, it wasn’t fenced, although it officially closed at 10:30pm. Across the street was the International School, but Rene never saw any kids there, except sometimes older kids who would jump the fence to play basketball.
Rene wasn’t there for the fountain though. Or the benches, or the few trees. Although this was the Garden District, the park attracted a seedier element, as evidenced by the numerous gang tags displayed on the available concrete walls around the place. It wasn’t just rowdy kids who frequented the place however. They mostly hung out on the weekends. Weekdays brought another group, those who still found a thrill meeting and searching each other out in the dark outdoors. Rene got his first nibble after sitting alone in the dark beneath a busted out lamp for only ten minutes.
The man was about forty, and he was leading a black and white border collie on a leash. In his front left pocket peeked a plastic grocery bag, which crinkled lightly as he walked. A poop bag, Rene knew. The man was wearing black jeans and a light jacket, though the temperature was still in the high seventies. Rene saw the man spot him, saw him switch paths to come closer to him. About fifty feet away, the dog paused, sniffing the air. The man tugged lightly on his leash, and the dog came on, but reluctantly.
“You’re out late,” the man said in a friendly tone when he was about twenty feet away. He had brown hair and brown eyes. He was developing a bit of a paunch, which stretched his blue Polo shirt. He made a show of looking around. “Are your parents with you?”
Rene shook his head and lifted his arms to the back of the bench. He shrugged. “I’m just takin’ a walk.”
“Me and Rusty are out for a walk ourselves, ain’t that right, boy?” he asked, but the dog stopped when they were fifteen feet away. “Come say hi, Rusty,” he urged, but the dog was staring at Rene and he began to whine.
“What’s got into you, hmm?” the man asked, kneeling down to pet the dog. He looked up at Rene and smiled. “He’s usually really friendly,” he said.
“He must smell my dog,” Rene said. “He’s a rottweiler.”
“Well, that probably explains it,” the man said. “I’m Kurt. What’s your name?”
“Rene,” the boy answered.
“What a cool name,” Kurt said. “How old are you, Rene?”
“Twelve,” the boy lied.
“Do you mind if I sit?” Kurt asked, moving closer. The small dog resisted, but came along, tail between his legs, whining. Kurt sat without waiting for an answer, and Rusty the dog moved as far away as the leash would allow.
“Do you live nearby?” Kurt asked.
Rene could smell the cigarettes on the man. He hated the smell of cigarettes. It was only partly masked by the smell of the man’s aftershave. Rene thought it might be Old Spice. “I live a few blocks away,” he answered.
“I like your hair,” Kurt said. “I had hair like yours when I was your age.”
“My dad keeps telling my mom to cut it,” Rene said.
“Well, don’t let her,” Kurt smiled. Then he swallowed visibly and said, “You could get her to buy you some new jeans though. Your knees are coming right out of these.” Then Kurt’s left hand slid down to touch Rene’s knee.
Rene didn’t move or say a word, and seemingly emboldened, Kurt first squeezed his knee, and then lightly caressed it.
“I bet you play sports,” Kurt said, voice a bit strained now. “You’ve got really strong legs.” His hand began to drift lightly up Rene’s right thigh.
“I play soccer,” Rene said. He spread his legs a little. “Center forward.”
“Wow, so you must be the best on the team,” Kurt said, and his hand drifted even higher, now caressing Rene’s inner thigh.
“Kurt,” the boy said, and the man snatched his hand away and met his eyes guiltily. Rene stared into the man’s eyes, his own blue eyes empty and fathomless. He gathered his will. He bit his lower lip, his gaze intent. Softly he said, “Higher.”
Gaze locked on his own, Kurt turned to face him fully. He dropped the leash, and Rusty, who’d been straining lightly, dashed away. Kurt’s right hand found Rene’s thigh, and quickly stroked upward until he was cupping the boy’s crotch.
Rene felt the man’s hand on his groin, squeezing his small genitals. He felt a flutter of excitement in his belly, but his penis didn’t respond. He was so hungry. “Do you live alone?” he asked.
“Yes,” Kurt answered.
“Let’s go to your house,” Rene said, and he rose to his feet.
Kurt didn’t say a word, just rose to his feet and began to walk off in the direction he’d come. After about a minute he slowed and looked around. “Rusty?” he asked in confusion.
“Let’s go to your house,” Rene repeated, and Kurt was once again walking a bit woodenly off to the north.
Five minutes later, Kurt led them to a nice house a couple of blocks from the park. It was a two-story place with a balcony over the front portico and four dormer windows. Kurt unlocked the front door and walked in without a word. Rene stopped at the threshold and called out, “Can I come in?”
Kurt turned to look at him. He seemed almost surprised to see him there. Then he licked his lips and said, “Please come in.”
Rene stepped inside and closed the door behind him. Kurt watched him, then looked around. “I… I think I forgot my dog,” he said.
“You said I could take a bath,” Rene said, distracting him.
“I… did?” Kurt asked. “I… of course. It’s upstairs. Can’t you take a bath at home?”
“Remember? The pipes are busted,” Rene said.
“Oh… right,” the man said, confused. They quickly arrived at the bathroom. Kurt looked at the boy nervously, then knelt by the large tub and said, “I’ll get the water. It’s tricky.”
“Thanks,” Rene said, pulling off his shirt. Kurt just stared, tub forgotten. Rene smiled and kicked off his shoes. He unbuttoned his pants, then unzipped them. Without a word, he pushed them down and kicked them off, so that he was standing there in just his dingy, no longer tighty or whitey briefs.
Kurt continued to stare, eyes wide. Rene hooked his fingers into the stretched waistband of his briefs, then slowly pushed them downward. After sliding down over his ass, they slipped to the floor on their own. Kurt’s breathing was rapid now, a pulse beating in his neck as he stared at Rene’s small penis. He was circumcised, the little acorn head pale and nearly colorless. Soft, it was about three inches long, hanging over grape-sized testicles which were as hairless as the skin of the boy’s groin. His groin was pale, almost white. In fact, the boy’s entire body was just as pale.
“You’re so beautiful,” the man breathed. Then, still on his knees, he walked forward and pressed his face against Rene’s crotch, his arms wrapped around him and he clutched two small, perfect asscheeks.
Rene looked down as the man took his small penis into his mouth. It felt nice. So warm and slippery. He loved having his dick sucked. Kurt’s breath was hot against his hairless groin, his hands warm as he kneaded the flesh of his ass. Kurt made hungry, greedy sounds as he sucked, but after maybe two minutes, he pulled back, staring at the boy’s cock, confused.
Rene saw his little penis hanging limply, shiny with the man’s spit. He cupped a hand under Kurt’s chin, and once again met the man’s eyes. He stared, his mind intent. There was a silent battle of wills, and then Kurt’s eyes began to grow a bit hazy. Rene didn’t hesitate. He bent down quickly, feeling a wet sliding sensation in the roof of his mouth and then he was plunging his fangs into the man’s neck.
Kurt gasped as the little vampire’s teeth broke the skin and sank into his carotid. He felt the suction and heard the greedy sucking noises coming from the boy, but it was so hard to concentrate. He knew something was wrong, but the boy’s mouth felt so good.
Rene drank, feeling the man’s rich arterial blood spraying into his mouth. His body came alive, his heart stuttering to a start in his chest, then beating strongly, sending the energy-giving fluid throughout his body. Between his legs, his penis stiffened, growing to a straining four inches, the little helmet shaped head taking on a rosy shade.
After a few seconds the blood was no longer spraying into his mouth, and Rene clamped his lips against the skin of the man’s neck, sucking, allowing none to escape. Kurt moaned, and Rene forced himself to stop. He removed his fangs, but was too excited to retract them, then he began licking at the two small puncture wounds. Lick, lick, the blood slowing, then stopping. Rene licked some more, cleaning the last of the blood from the man’s neck. He then sank to his knees, then to his ass, his legs spread out before him, his cock twitching, his body singing.
Kurt swayed for a moment, then he too was sitting. Rene watched him, his breathing, the pulse beating sluggishly in his neck. Eventually awareness returned, and the boy could see the concentration in his eyes as they found his stiff little cock.
“I thought you wanted to suck me,” the boy teased, reaching down to slide his fingers over his pubescent erection.
“I do,” Kurt breathed, blinking tiredly. “Please,” he said.
Rene smiled and rose to his feet. Kurt struggled to his own knees, and once again took Rene’s penis into his mouth.
Rene felt his eyes fluttering and rolling back as the man began to suck him. Now the feeling was so much more intense than before. He felt the tingles racing through his body as Kurt’s tongue teased his cockhead, the suction against his thin shaft intense. The man’s mouth was moving up and down, taking all four inches of him again and again, lips sliding over that sensitive little bundle of flesh beneath the head, making the boy shiver. Rene felt he was practically glowing with the sensual energy racing through him.
“Gonna cum,” he gasped, not in warning, but just to himself. He felt his little balls begin to churn, felt the waves of pleasure shooting out from his groin, and then he was thrusting himself forward, his back arching as he shuddered, his penis shooting out a thin little stream of immature semen mixed liberally with blood, which Rene knew would replenish what fluids he’d taken from the man, energizing him as if he were twenty years younger. At least for a day or so.
With the man lost in what anyone would take for a drug-induced haze, Rene showered, enjoying the warm water dancing on his skin, the intensity of the sensation almost as good as the blowjob, but nowhere near as good as the feeding. He loved the smell of the man’s soap and shampoo, and he played games with his pale yellow hair, making spikes and mohawks and giggling happily. Rene didn’t shower very often. As a vampire, he didn’t sweat, and he didn’t go to the bathroom, so the only reason to shower was to get rid of the natural grime accumulated from being in the world.
Naked and dry from the big fluffy towel in the bathroom, Rene wandered through the house, poking curiously into drawers and closets. He was pleased and amused when he opened up the drawer of a dresser in the master bedroom closet and found a collection of boys underwear. Apparently the man collected them. They were all sized 10-12, and they had been laundered. Rene imagined the man used them to masturbate, but they smelled fresh and it was fairly obvious they’d never been worn. Rene picked out five pairs he really liked. One of them was red and yellow with the superhero Flash’s emblem over the crotch. He pulled them on, then admired himself in the mirror. He grew hard again at the image of himself, so pale and beautiful. Gathering his old briefs, he stuffed them into the drawer as a present for the man.
Kurt was still gazing glassy-eyed at the ceiling of the bathroom when Rene returned to continue dressing. Further searching had revealed no other boy-sized clothing, which Rene found disappointing but not surprising. Bending down, he rolled the man to his side and worked his wallet from his back pocket. Eighty-seven dollars. Rene took it all, knowing the man could afford it. Rene had little use for the money, as he didn’t eat or have bills, but it would buy him some new jeans, as his were a bit ratty. He’d been wearing the current ones for about three years. He had a gym bag of money back home, but he rarely thought about it, just stuffing in new money as he came across it. The man’s comment on the park bench had made him aware of the sorry shape of his jeans. He knew there was a WalMart down by the river he could visit at night without earning himself too many strange looks.
“Sleep tight,” Rene said, almost fondly, as he left the man and went downstairs. He made sure the front porch light was out, then he left the house. Rusty was on the sidewalk, but the dog bolted as soon as he saw him. It made Rene a bit sad. Dogs used to like him.
End of part 1
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