(1) Trevor Wallace - Dhampir

I feel as if I’m older than sin, although I’m not. And I’m just about as evil according to some. I was born of a human female and a Vampyre male, which makes me, you guessed it, a Dhampir.

For those of you who are uninformed about us, we have the unique ability to see Vampyres even when they are invisible, and we are also uniquely adept at killing them. We are sometimes called Daywalkers for our ability to be out in the sun, despite our half-Vampyre heritage. We possess all the powers of a Vampyre as well, although to a lesser degree—strength, heightened senses, the ability to control certain animals.

Many Dhampir hire themselves out as Vampyre killers.

I, however, do it for free, so great is my hatred of them.

* * * *

It began when I was ten. Young enough to still be considered a child, old enough that I’d been taught what I was and why I had powers the other kids on the block could only dream of having. I was Superman, Blade, and every other superhero rolled into one, or so they would have thought if they had known.

I’d have killed to be normal just like them.

My mom tried, she really did. She loved me as best she could, considering I was a child conceived of rape, rape by a creature of the night. Oh she didn’t tell me that part, not until moments before she died—murdered by the blood-sucking bastards. They were after me. Wanted me dead because of what I was and what I would become when I grew up.

Mom must have known something was wrong that night. She woke me up, told me to hide though she didn’t say why. Just said someone was coming, someone dangerous. I told her to call the cops, begged her to. “They can’t help me, Trev. No one can help against your father,” she said.

Yeah, my father, the son of a bitch. He led them to us. I found out later he hadn't known about me. Not until some fucking drunken ex boyfriend of mom’s got to talking in a bar. Told some whore of a female he was trying to hook up with how he’d met this woman with a strange kid, like something out of a horror flick with strange powers. Oh, I remember him. The fucker was beating on mom one night and I stopped him. Me. Nine at the time and still able to pull him off her with no trouble. He’s dead now, I saw to that.

But that’s not here nor there, now is it?

The whore wasn’t human at all. She was another of the blood suckers and a friend of dear old dad’s. Well acquaintance, because Vampyres don’t have friends. She told him what the prick had told her, the story and mom’s name. Dad remembered her. He found her drunken ex in another sleaze bar and the coward spilled the beans on where we were to save his own skin.

Daddy dearest showed up at our house on the night in question with two others of his kind. Mom begged them to leave. Told them she didn’t know where I was. That I’d run away again and this time she hadn’t tried to find me. Said she was over having to take care of an ungrateful little bastard. Damn she pulled out all the stops trying to save me from them. They didn’t believe her. They tore the house apart trying to find me but I wasn’t inside, I was under it in the crawl space, with the spiders and whatever other creepy things lived there. I could hear everything. I heard her scream when they took turns hitting on her, trying to make her talk—and then again when they drank her blood.

They left, finally. Left her behind almost dead. I crawled out of my hiding place, went to her, held her while she told me how I’d been conceived. How the bastard had followed her when she’d left work one night. How he’d told her he wanted her, had seen her and fallen for her. She was poor, lonely and he was rich, he claimed, and handsome and said her cared for her. She let him walk her home, invited him in for coffee. When he made advances she tried to send him away. The rest…is me.

She died begging me to find him and kill him. That was my lot in life after all, to become a hunter and killer of Vampyres. That’s what Dhampirs do. That’s why the Vampyres came that night looking for me. To murder me before I could grow up and fulfill my destiny. As mom took her last breath I swore to her I would do as she asked.

The Colors of Hate - 64

“Where..?” Dean gasped out, breaking the kiss to ask, and to regain his breath.

“Top drawer.”

Dean found the lube, and the condoms. He tore one open, sheathing Kirby. Squeezing a good amount of lube onto his fingers he straddled him. Then, with a wicked gleam in his eyes as he saw Kirby watching lustfully, he thrust one finger into his own hole, then a second one, readying himself.

“If you don’t hurry that up,” Kirby groaned.

“Needy much?” Dean bent to kiss him again.

“For you? For me to be inside of you? Very…” Kirby whispered against his lips.

With a nod, Dean squeezed more lube on to his fingers, spread it over Kirby’s erect cock and positioned himself. He bit his lip against the sharp pain as he took him in, pausing until it became bearable. Slowly he lowered himself until Kirby’s cock was fully inside him, his eyes locked on Kirby’s the whole time.

“So perfect,” Kirby groaned, his hands gripping Dean’s hips.

"Please mean that," Dean barely whispered as he moved faster, ignoring the flashes of pain until pleasure began to override them. Soon Kirby was thrusting up in time to Dean's movements, one hand wrapped tightly around Dean’s cock. “I’m going to…” Dean gasped out and then his orgasm overwhelmed him.

Kirby’s followed moments later as he called out Dean’s name, his whole body shuddering from the force of his climax. When Dean collapsed onto his chest, Kirby wrapped his arms around him, holding him tightly until they both came back to reality.

“Fantastic,” Kirby murmured, kissing Dean’s temple. Seconds later a low moan from Dean made Kirby realize he was still battered and bruised. Something neither of them had considered in the throes of their passion. He unwrapped his arms and carefully eased Dean off and onto his back. “Don’t move,” he told him before sitting up. “Where are your meds?”

“I’m okay,” Dean protested, although it was evident from the look on his face he was hurting.

With a shake of his head Kirby was on his feet. He spotted the pill bottle through the open bathroom door and went to get it, disposing of the condom at the same time. Filling a glass with water, he returned to help Dean sit up, put two pills in his hand and gave him the water.

“Last time until you’re in better shape,” Kirby told him.

After swallowing the pills Dean grumbled, “Don’t I get some say in that?”   

“Nope.” Kirby placed a light kiss on his lips then drew back to study him. “How are the ribs?”

“Fine, if I don’t breathe,” Dean said with a quirky smile.

“Dean…” Kirby growled, “I’m serious.”   

“They’re much better and that’s the truth, I swear.”

“All right. I want you to get some sleep.”

“Only if you do too. You’ve had more than a long day.”

“Which ended just as I wanted it to—with you.” Kirby waited until Dean was lying down again then slid in behind him, one hand resting lightly on his chest.

“Mmm, nice,” Dean said drowsily as the meds kicked in. “Be here when I wake up?”

“Planning on it.” After placing a gentle kiss on the nape of Dean’s neck, Kirby added, “Every morning if I have my way.”

“I like that id..”

Kirby chuckled, realizing Dean was sound asleep now. “Me too,” he replied. “Me too.”  

The End

The Colors of Hate - 63

“Carrie was right; you’re several shades puce and yellow.”

Dean chuckled and sat up. “Gorgeous, huh?”

Kirby eyed him, taking in not just the bruises but the well defined chest they decorated. “Handsome would be a better word. Not the damage but the man, the face, the body.”

Dean ducked his head. He could almost feel himself turning red.

“You are you know,” Kirby told him with a smile. “Handsome and sexy.”

“Stop. I’m none of those. I’m just…me. Plain old ordinary me.” He raised his eyes to look at Kirby. “You’re the sexy one.”

“Not handsome?” Kirby asked with a look of mock disappointment.

“Well…your face is, but…” Dean patted the bed then began to unbutton Kirby’s shirt after he sat down beside him. When he was finished he pushed it back off Kirby’s shoulders. “You not too badly built, for a cop. No excess fat from too many doughnuts.”

“That’s a myth you know, cops and doughnuts.”

Dean cocked an eyebrow as he ran his hands over Kirby’s chest, exploring the well-defined lines of muscle. “In your case, I’d have to agree. At least from as much as I can see of you.”

“Subtle, not.” Kirby stood, his shirt sliding the rest of the way off to land in a heap on the floor. “I suppose you want to check out the rest?”

Dean shrugged nonchalantly. “I might.” He leaned back against the headboard, his hands behind his head. “Go for it.”

“Ohhh, you so shouldn’t have said that.” With a quick yank he pulled the covers down, taking an admiring look at Dean’s slim hips before he grasped his half-erect cock in one hand.

Dean gasped. Seconds later he groaned as Kirby knelt between his outstretched legs and bent to lick from the base up to the mushroom head, before engulfing it in his hot mouth. “Oh…my…god…” he managed to get out, gripping the headboard rails so tightly his knuckles turned white.

Kirby worked his cock expertly, swallowing him entirely, pulling back and doing it again, and again, until Dean was delirious with need. Then he sat back on his heels, looking at Dean, and winked. “You did say ‘go for it’.”

“And you took it literally. Damn. So what do I have to say to get you to fuck me?”

“‘Please’ works.” Kirby started to undo his slacks.

“Please,” Dean growled.

Suddenly Kirby found himself on his back as Dean finished the job of opening his slacks, taking his engorged member in one hand while trying to push the slacks down with the other. Kirby lifted his hips to make the job easier and kicked them off.

“Amazing,” Dean whispered, stroking his hand up the thick length of Kirby’s shaft.

Kirby chuckled. “It’s just a cock.”

“Just?” Dean slid down so he could lap at the leaking slit. “Ambrosia,” he murmured, sucking the object of his desire into his mouth. Kirby’s moans told him he was doing something right so he continued until Kirby gripped his head to stop him.

“Keep that up and I’ll be coming too soon.” Kirby pulled Dean up to take his lips in a hungry kiss that deepened as they plundered each other’s mouths.

The Colors of Hate - 62

“Take your meds,” Kirby said pointedly as soon as he closed the condo door behind them.

“Aw hell. Come on. It seems like I just did, at the hospital.”

Kirby shook his head. “You didn’t, and even if you had, it was a couple of hours ago.”

“Every four hours,” Dean replied, taking the bottle from his pocket to check. “See.” He handed the bottle to Kirby.

“Yeah, okay, you’re right. Just don’t forget to take them later then.”

“I gather you’re leaving.”

“I told you I had to get back to work.”

“So go then. I’ll just…see what movies you have that I can watch.” Dean crossed the entertainment center, running his finger along the spines of the movie cases.

Kirby smiled ruefully as he watched him. Then he walked up behind him to wrap his arms around his waist. “I’ll be back before you know I’m gone.”

Turning in Kirby’s arms, Dean shook his head. “You’ll catch some case and it’ll be morning or later.”

“So now you know my routine?” Kirby chuckled when Dean nodded. “If I do I’ll call so you don’t worry.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” Kirby traced the line of Dean’s jaw with one finger. “Try to get some sleep. You need it.”

“What I need is…” Dean paused, “a kiss?”

“You don’t know?”

“I know.” Sliding his arms around Kirby’s neck, Dean proceeded to demonstrate exactly the sort of kiss he wanted from Kirby.

And he got it, and then some, in return.

“Damn,” Kirby muttered when they broke apart. “Keep that up and I’m going nowhere.”

“Oh really?” Dean’s eyes sparkled with amusement, and desire.

With a sigh, Kirby shook his head. “Unfortunately staying is not an option. So watch movies, sleep, take your meds, and we’ll see what happens, and how you feel, when I get back.”

“I’ll feel frustrated and missing you,” Dean stated positively.

“And the feelings will be mutual.” Kirby unwound Dean’s arms from around his neck—after they shared one more kiss. “This one’s good,” he said, pulling out one of the movies to hand to Dean.

“Subtle.” Dean laughed. “Go. The sooner you do, the sooner you’ll be back.”

“Going already. Damn.” Kirby grinned as he walked to the door.

For a moment they both sobered as they looked at each other. Then Dean smiled. “Hurry home,” he said softly.

“With you here waiting, you know I will.”

Dean nodded. “I do.”

The Colors of Hate - 61

Dean had just finished getting dressed when Kirby showed up with Carrie right behind him.

“Aren’t both of you supposed to be working?” Dean asked them.

“We figured you might want some moral support, or whatever you want to call it,” Carrie told him.

“Uh-oh, now what?” Dean asked, his mouth tightening as he sat down on the edge of the hospital bed.

Kirby sat down beside him. “Nothing too dire, just a bajillion reporters waiting to interview you when you leave.”

Dean sighed. “Oh well. I guess I might as well face them and get it over with.”

“There’s one other thing,” Carrie added, handing him an envelope. “This came for you at the theater.”

Dean looked at the return address, and then the handwriting. Slowly he opened it, his face reflecting his emotions as he read it.

Kirby put one arm around his shoulder, waiting until he’d finished before asking, “From your father?”

“No, from Mom. She…” He shook his head. “A lot of it’s what I would have expected but at the end… She says she’s told my father he is not to do anything to me, or have anything done to me or she will…” Dean smiled slightly, “She’ll take matters into her own hands with him. And knowing her, she will and he’ll regret it. She’s a strong woman in her own right. She ended it by saying, ‘In spite of what you are, Dean, you are still my son and I love you’.” He folded the letter then put it in his pocket. “I guess perhaps in her own way she does.”

Kirby hugged him very gently for a moment. “A lot of people do,” he said softly.

Carrie nodded, waiting until Dean stood before giving him a light hug in deference to his ribs and bruised body. He smiled at her, ruffling her hair. “What would I have done without your support all these years?”

“Probably screwed up royally,” she replied with a grin. “Now I think it’s time for you to face your public, or at least the television part of it.”

“Can we sneak out the back door?”

“Unfortunately that’s a no-go,” Kirby told him. “They’re not as stupid as you might think. They have it covered too, just in case.”

“Ah well. Then let’s do it.”

* * * *

With Kirby and Carrie at his side, Dean managed to weather the reporters, answering their questions as best he could. All except one.

“Mr Travers, are you and Detective Lasiter a couple?” a female reporter called out.

Dean froze, totally nonplussed by the question.

Kirby took matters into his own hands, as he put an arm around Dean’s waist. “Let’s just say we’re exploring the options and leave it at that, shall we. And now, if you don’t mind, it’s time to get him home so he can rest. And those,” he grinned, “are the doctor’s orders, not mine.”

A few minutes later, having managed to get through the crowd of reporters and television cameras they made it to Kirby’s car. As they drove away Dean looked at Kirby, studying him.

Kirby glanced at him for a second, smiling. “What?”

“You do realize you just outed yourself to the world. It’s not just a secret between you and…well the few people who knew, anymore.”

“Well hell, I guess I did.” Kirby’s smile widened. “Is that going to be a problem for you?”

Dean snorted. “Not hardly.”

“Good. So, your place or mine?”

“Umm, I’m supposed to be resting, doctor’s orders according to you.”

“Which you can do in either place. I’m just dropping you off. I do have a job and a partner who would really like it if I showed up for work on a regular basis now that all this is over.”

“Well, since you’re giving me an option...” Dean held out his hands, palms up, moving them up and down as if weighing something.   

Kirby pressed down on one palm. “My place it is.”

“Now what makes you think that hand wasn’t my apartment?”

“A good guess?”

Dean laughed. “Your place it was—and is.”