Fandom: Ultraviolet/The Bill
Author: Beverly Hills
Title: Casting a Shadow Part 2/3
Pairing: Jack Beresford/Rod Skase
Rating: Violence, rape
Archive: at BritSlash, yes please
Feedback: I would value it, email@example.com
Summary: After Michael’s rejection Jack goes hunting for a victim to work off his anger on.
Disclaimer: Concepts and characters from Ultraviolet and The Bill remain the property of their respective production companies and have not been used here for financial gain.
All thanks to Ali for being my Beta half.
Casting a Shadow pt 2
by Beverly Hills
He didn’t like feeding when he was angry. It always got messy and Jack liked things to be planned and under control, his control. Ordinarily he would make a selection, usually a beautiful woman, get her alone, do the business, tidy her up and move on.
When he was angry it was a different story. He would find himself in pursuit of a man, usually a man that looked like he would be able to put up some kind of a struggle. Gay bars had been to easy, getting a man to come outside with you there had been no trouble at all, no sport involved.
He knew of a number of East end pubs from his days with the “Met” that provided the ambience and clientele that would satisfy his requirements. Those nights when he was after more than just sustenance. A night like tonight.
He had left Michael in a park. Mike had turned down his offer of an eternal life spent with him, the world as their playground. Michael had accused him of not knowing anything about love, of using people to get what he wanted and then dropping them. He knew Michael was right and it made him very angry.
It was so unfair, he had never deluded himself that he had any capacity to prioritise anyone else’s needs over his own, but did that mean he was incapable of loving. He had loved Kirsty, until he no longer needed her. As for Michael hadn’t he literally just made him the offer of a lifetime? Wasn’t that love?
To see the usual adoring look in Mike’s eyes replaced by horror or worse pity made him feel a flooding surge of anger that he knew he needed to expiate.
He made his way to Sun Hill and a pub off the Jamaica Lane called the Rooster. There had been no attempt to gentrify this old fashioned boozer, in fact Jack believed it hadn’t even been cleaned in the past thirty years. Grime on the windows obscured the view into the main bar and once through the door visibility was similarly hampered by an ever present fog of tobacco smoke. It was doubtful that anyone would notice that Jack wasn’t casting any reflection in the filthy mirror behind the bar.
Jack lent on the bar ordered a pint for appearances and turned to survey the clientele. There were a number of regulars he had seen here before mainly old drunks of both genders. A group of youths accompanied by a couple of young girls were gathered around the billiard table at the far end of the bar. The boys obviously fancied themselves as “Hard Men” and were letting their voices carry as they boasted about their petty larcenies. Jack thought one of them might provide him with what he needed tonight.
“There’s trouble waiting to happen.” A voice beside him brought his attention back to the bar.
The comment had come from a tall young man who had sat down on the stool next to his. Jack turned to appraise his new companion more fully. He was good looking, dark hair and eyes, black jeans, shirt and leather jacket over what was obviously a well developed body. Something, possibly the way his fringe flopped over his forehead, reminded Jack of Michael.
“Yea and I don’t think it will take them to long. My name’s Jack can I buy you a drink?”
“Cheers, a pint, Rod, Rod Skace,” he said standing and taking Jack’s hand.
“So obviously you’re not a local, what brings you here?” Rod asked taking a sip of his beer.
“I like an adventure, what about you Rod? The Rooster doesn’t seem like your sort of place either?” Jack noticed that the man seemed pleased to be thought better than this dump.
“It’s not, I’ve been on a job around here and felt like a drink before going home.”
“What sort of a work do you do Rod?” Jack asked, signalling the barman to bring his new companion another drink.
“I’m working for a Private Investigation agency at the moment.”
“A Private Investigator, sounds interesting. How did you get into that?”
The young man lost his smile and took a sip of his beer.
“Well I used to be in the “Met”, CID but I… decided to move on. I was working here at Sunhill. PI work seemed to be the natural thing to do after I got…I left. I mean what else does a career as a copper set you up for?”
To be a vampire Jack thought to himself. Then it occurred to him that Rod may well have known John Bolton when he worked at the Sun Hill nick. This was beginning to be intriguing.
The crowd around the billiard table were getting more rowdy, two of them having a mock punch up to the delighted squeals of the girls who were with them.
“I’d say this place is going to lose what little charm it has very soon. Rod, how about you and I go somewhere else and have another drink?” Jack said hoping he hadn’t miscalculated. He assumed Rod was straight and he didn’t want to frighten him off before he could bring his own form of persuasion to bear on this attractive ex copper.
Rod seemed to like the idea. At this Jack reconsidered his assessment. Perhaps he was gay which would take all the challenge and thereby the pleasure out of it for Jack.
They left the pub and started walking towards the canal where Jack said his car was parked. Jack asked Rod whether he lived alone.
“Yea I do now, Karen, my girlfriend moved out a month ago. She’s gone to Australia,” Rod said.
“Too bad, you must get lonely. Still I’m sure you don’t have any trouble finding companionship when you want it.”
They were now walking besides the waste ground next to the old canal, an area screened from the road by a thick hedge. Jack stopped walking and grabbed Rod by the shoulder spinning him around. Faster than Rod could register Jack had planted his mouth over Rod’s, forcing Rod’s lips apart he thrust his tongue roughly around the other man’s mouth.
To shocked to react at first it was only when Jack grabbed Rod’s crotch and squeezed that he began to struggle. Jack had only to move his mouth to Rod’s neck and to bite to stop the other man’s resistance but that wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted a fight, a fight he would ultimately win claiming the young man’s body and then his blood as a prize.
Jack relinquished his hold on Rod allowing himself to be pushed away.
Rod staggered back wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. “What are you playing at? If that’s what you’re after you picked the wrong bloke.” With that he turned and started to walk back the way they had come.
“Oh I don’t think I’ve made any mistake.” Jack said as he grabbed Rod by the waist, lifted him off the ground and threw him over the hedge. He heard him land on the other side with a thud and a groan. Bending his knees slightly Jack bounded over the hedge and landed beside Rod laying face down on the ground.
Rod was attempting to push himself up from the ground, shaking his head as if to clear his vision.
“C’mon Rod no time for lolling about we’ve a lot more fun to have yet.” Jack reached down and grabbing the back of Rod’s belt lifted him to his feet.
Rod’s face was cut and muddy on one side, his expression one of terror.
“Please you don’t have to do this, take my wallet I don’t want any trouble, please.” he was looking from side to side as he said this looking for anything he could use as a weapon.
Jack reached up and grasped Rod’s shirt and jacket ripping them from his body. He then pushed the man backwards onto the ground and pulled off his boots and then quickly undoing Rod’s belt tugged his jeans down over his feet and threw them into the bushes.
Rod lay shaking on the ground his pale skin scratched and beginning to bruise in places, he cupped his hands over the crotch of his white underpants. He was staring at Jack his mouth open.
“Who are you, why are you doing this to me?” Rod said his voice breaking.
“I told you Rod my name is Jack. I’m going to fuck you and then I’m going to drink your blood. But first we’re going to play for a bit, get up.”
The terrified young man got shakily to his feet.
Jack put his hands over his eyes and said. “Okay Rod, I’ll give you to the count of twenty to get away and then I’m coming after you.” He could sense that Rod was just standing there looking about. “One, two, three, four,”he counted aloud.
This was enough to set the prey’s survival mechanism in motion. Jack could hear Rod’s footsteps and breathing disappearing down the slope towards the canal tunnel.
“Classic” Jack said to himself. Every single one he had ever hunted like this had ignored the option of heading towards the street, lights, people in favour of finding some dark hole to bolt into. It was as if the primitive limbic section of the brain that could remember being pursued by sabre tooth tigers took charge and headed for the nearest cave.
He began to walk towards the tunnel. He could smell the blood on Rod’s various cuts and scratches from here. He knew that he was crouched a short way into the tunnel formed by the bridge crossing the canal. Heading back up the slope he crossed over the road in order to enter the tunnel from the other end. Moving with speed and silence he entered the darkness. He could see Rod ahead of him and came up silently behind the crouching man. Extending his hand he grasped a handful of Rod’s hair.
“For an ex detective you’re not putting up much of a challenge, Rod.”
Rod yelled in shock and alarm twisting around, freeing himself from his tormentor’s grasp and attempting to crawl away on all fours.
Jack lunged forward and landing on Rod’s back forced him down onto the ground. Laying on top of the frantically struggling man he reached down and ripped away Rod’s briefs. Holding Rod’s neck with one hand he freed his now hard cock from his pants with the other.
His victim’s frenzied efforts to buck him off when he began to roughly rub his cock up and down the cleft of Rod’s pale, firm arse only served to stimulate him more. With a hard thrust of his hips he forced himself inside the other man.
Rod howled and cursed as Jack withdrew his shaft till it was almost free of the battered entrance and then plunged it back in again until his fair, curly pubic hair was pressed against the red cheeks of Rod’s sweating arse. The intoxicating reek of fresh blood rose from beneath him.
This was it thought Jack, not love but anger and pain. Michael had hurt him and now he was hurting this man. Battering down Rod’s defences, dragging the pitiful, terrified thing he really was out into view and pounding it to dust. His thrusts became harder and faster, he could feel his triumphant climax building in every dead cell of his body as he ripped and tore Rod’s insides. Now was the moment to break through the flesh and dive into the ocean of blood washing through Rod’s body.
He leant forward and put his mouth to the pulsing cord of the carotic artery, prepared to tear into it and drink down Rod’s life as he climaxed into him.
Suddenly shouts and a whistle being blown intruded over the hammering sound of Rod’s racing heartbeat. Two figures carrying torches were fighting their way through the hedge.
Jack quickly fought to bring himself back from the line of abandonment he was about to cross. He swiftly withdrew his still hard prick from Rod’s battered arsehole eliciting a moan from the otherwise motionless man.
He was gone by the time Constables Dale Smith and Sam Harker made their way down the slippery bank to the canal edge.
“Christ!” Smithy said as he crouched next to the still figure. Placing his fingers on the pulse point so recently covered by Jack’s mouth he looked up at Sam and said. “Call for an ambulance, he’s still alive.”
After easily evading the pursuit of the police he had still needed to feed. The dark hours were running out and there was no more time for sport. In a deserted side-street he hailed a cab and pulled the cabby out through the window. After drinking only what he needed he cleaned the driver up and put him back in his cab. He would already be in trouble with his publicity shy associates about the cockup with the man by the canal without leaving a drained cabby lying about.
Walking so swiftly that to the few pedestrians he passed it was like a sudden breeze blowing by them and nothing more he arrived at the familiar door. He came here often and it was where he wanted to be now. He entered and made for the bedroom. Silently drawing the curtains against the imminent sunrise he sat down in the usual chair and watched the sleeping figure on the bed as he had watched so many other nights. The familiar profile, the full lips slightly parted, the rumpled fringe falling over an eye. This time it would be different he would still be here when Michael woke up.
End of part 2