Black Leather Night and Other Tales: An Off World Dark Fantasy Vampire Adventure

By Willa Okati

Dante’s World. A dystopian off planet colony where life is hard and the supernatural exists side by side with everyday drama -- or not so everyday. Joy and pleasure must be paid for at a high price, and to feed from a human means death -- or worse.

But sometimes the line is crossed, and vampires fall in love with mortal men -- or men lose their hearts to the nightwalkers. Anything can happen, and often does…

Publisher’s Note: Black Leather Night and Other Tales includes the previously published novellas Black Leather Night, Into the Shadows, The Hunter, Tale of the Night, Memory, Don’t Look Now, Sixty-Nine Reasons, and Missing Pieces.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Changeling Press
• Release date: Jan 5, 2024
• ISBN: 9780314200990

Willa Okati

Willa Okati can most often be found muttering to herself over a keyboard, plugged into her iPod and breaking between paragraphs to play air drums. In her spare time (the odd ten minutes or so per day she's not writing) she's teaching herself to play the pennywhistle. Willa has forty-plus separate tattoos and yearns for a full body suit of ink. She walks around in a haze of story ideas, dreaming of tales yet to be told. She drinks an alarming amount of coffee for someone generally perceived to be mellow.

Book preview

Black Leather Night and Other Tales

Off World Dark Fantasy Vampire Adventures

Willa Okati

All rights reserved.

Copyright ©2024 Willa Okati

BIN: 03142-00999

Second Edition

Formats Available:

Adobe PDF, Epub

Publisher:

Changeling Press LLC

315 N. Centre St.

Martinsburg, WV 25404

www.ChangelingPress.com

Anthology Editor: Margaret Riley

Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

Adult Sexual Content

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Table of Contents

Black Leather Night and Other Tales

Black Leather Night

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Into the Shadows

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

The Hunter

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Tale of the Night

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Memory

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Don’t Look Now

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Sixty-Nine Reasons

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Missing Pieces

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Willa Okati

Black Leather Night and Other Tales

Off World Dark Fantasy Vampire Adventures

Willa Okati

Dante’s World. A dystopian off planet colony where life is hard and the supernatural exists side by side with everyday drama -- or not so everyday. Joy and pleasure must be paid for at a high price, and to feed from a human means death -- or worse.

But sometimes the line is crossed, and vampires fall in love with mortal men -- or men lose their hearts to the nightwalkers. Anything can happen, and often does…

Black Leather Night

Dante’s World

Willa Okati

The vampire Robhain is indecently tempted by the wizard he employs. Is Byrne deliberately teasing him with his skin-tight leather pants, or does he truly want Robhain?

Chapter One

Gods damn it.

It was, so far as the vampire Robhain could tell, very early in the evening, barely past dusk, yet his human employees, Del and Byrne, had already arrived for business. Del, yawning widely enough to show off all his white teeth, clutched a cup of the expensive cafe imported from Terra, likely bought from a street vendor. Still laughing a little at some joke the boy must have made, Byrne shrugged off his street jacket to hang it on the post by his desk.

Watching the pair, Robhain knew he should only be proud of them. They were, after all, expecting an important shipment of magical artifacts at any time that night, and they needed to be ready with both warding spells and records of what they’d netted. But watching them from his office, behind a tinted window -- protection against occasional bursts of light as day approached -- Robhain’s teeth began to grind.

Let the gods have mercy. Byrne! He wore his favorite pair of ass-hugging leather pants for the second night in a row. Hurrying to arrive early enough, he must have taken his motorcycle to the store and left it parked up top, above the basement showroom.

Watching him, Robhain’s expression soured. Byrne. Fresh off the street and every inch a contradiction with his prim, rimless glasses and helmet-mussed hair, starched linen shirt and painted-on pants… didn’t he realize how tight they were? Molding as they did to his legs and the too-damn-perfect curve of his shapely ass? Leaving nothing to the imagination?

Especially when, as a vampire, Robhain could smell what he’d been doing, wearing them.

Who was she? he seethed. Some bit of blonde fluff from one of the flesh-parlors, all dazzling smile and tight ass or generous tits? Even across the room, he could smell that Byrne reeked of come.

Robhain’s mouth worked, and he swallowed. By rights, that come should belong to him. Should flow into his mouth alone. But what was he but a coward? Unable to approach his very human mage-employee, or to make but the meekest suggestions that were blithely misunderstood as innocent… Fool. As if a vampire could ever be innocent.

His molars were beginning to creak ominously and his small, pointed fangs cut into his lips. Reluctantly he loosened his jaw. Facts were facts. Humans did not mingle willingly with the vampire-kind. It stood as miracle enough that Byrne worked with him in the business. Likely it caused him no little loss of caste in human society.

Not for the first time, he wondered why Byrne chose to work for him. The man’s talent could have secured him a place in the Suzerain’s palace. Instead he chose to work as mage and record-keeper in a secondhand artifact store, where lesser magicians and warriors came to buy enchanted goods.

Robhain would never, on that level, cease to be grateful for Byrne’s assistance. Able to detect the slightest nuance of malicious spell-craft on a weapon or artifact, he was damned good at what he did. Robhain could not do without him -- most such charms were made to harm those of his bloodthirsty ilk, and did not care whether he drank blood fetched from the slaughterhouses or from the hot human vein. With his magics, Byrne had saved his hide a hundred times over.

Watching him, Robhain laid a hand on the glass, as if he could touch the man as he flipped through papers on his overloaded cubby desk. Not that he had never felt the warmth of that skin before, of course -- their hands had brushed, their hips had bumped -- just enough contact to entice him, to send him to daylight slumber with his cock so hard and ready that barely a touch brought him to a scorching completion.

And then, other times, they had actually embraced in relief when a spell turned out a success. Hip to hip, pounding one another’s backs. Each time, holding that slender body to his, Robhain had burned for more. To take that slim face between his hands, tilt it just so to one side, and press their lips together…

Well. Byrne was the sort of temptation that could cause a centuries-old creature to shame himself by soiling his own trousers with a climax as soon as he reached the safety of his office.

Not for the first time, he tried to puzzle out why. Byrne was nothing special. An ordinary man -- but ah, with such an extraordinary face, his eyes blue as the sky Robhain had not seen for so long, blue as the ocean, blue as lapis lazuli. His smile -- rarely seen, for he was seriously-natured -- warming as the long-forgotten sunlight on Robhain’s skin. To luxuriate in those eyes and smile were more than he dared dream on.

And ah, such an impossible dream. For a vampire to force himself on an unwilling human meant death from those who handed down laws saying what a vampire could or could not do. They must not drink from the vein. They must not antagonize the humans. And not to be forgotten, they must not molest the humans in any way. Their tolerance was zero and justice swiftly delivered. While Robhain knew Byrne to be faithful and fond of his employer, the human was also a proud and powerful man. No doubt he would never suffer unwanted advances without immediate retribution.

Yet he taunted Robhain constantly, unconsciously, with his very presence, and in particular on days when he wore those thrice be-damned leather pants.

Crossing the room, Byrne glanced at him behind his window and threw up his hand, smiling in greeting. Robhain nodded in return and discreetly, behind his back, snapped a stylus in half.

That man would be the second death of him.

Chapter Two

It was too early for customers as yet -- they rarely came until full dark -- so Robhain chose to remain in his office, going over letters and transmissions informing him of possible new sources of booty. Mercifully Byrne sank out of sight behind the piles of paper on his desk, rummaging around with his beloved books. Still, he could hear that warm, human-accented voice calling snips of information out to Del, diligently dusting and polishing braziers and daggers.

Del. A handsome lad, with ebony hair far too long and eyes far too bright green. Robhain was certain he had some Fey blood in him. Perhaps third or fourth generation. He passed as human, at any rate, but would certainly stand on their outskirts. Reason enough for him to be glad of a job with Robhain. He did well enough at it, though he was flightily-natured.

More than once, he had considered bedding the boy instead of fruitlessly aching for Byrne. He would likely be willing, and given his heritage, there would be no repercussions. But though he tried, he could barely raise his staff to half-mast over the thought of Del’s nimble flanks and flashing grin. Not when there was Byrne.

Neither paid him any attention as they went about their business, thank the gods that holy men claimed had long since turned their backs on Robhain.

Determined, he returned to the business at hand, ignoring the men as they ignored him. Ignoring Byrne, and those leather pants. Leather. The stylus slipped from Robhain’s hand and bounced heedlessly on the floor as he stared out, hoping to catch a glimpse. Really, the man showed shocking ignorance or tremendous nerve to wear them a second day. Once was bad enough. Robhain could control himself and his shock over the pants one day at a time. But two days running of the slick, soft leather, black as night, clinging to Byrne’s shapely ass…

Leather called to him. It sang a bewitching melody that brought out his inner beast. Life had been given for that fabric, and when Byrne wore it, the sound became a siren’s song.

His cock jumped and twitched within his own linen trousers, wanting to play.

Behave, he told it sternly.

Unfortunately it was not in the mood to listen.

Come what might, it would be better for him that day if he remained inside his office. Yes, hiding, and what of it? Hiding behind his good, solid desk. With a book on his lap. A heavy book. To be on the safe side. Yes.

But as he settled the book into place, Byrne stood and stretched, leather clinging to his thighs. Robhain’s stubborn prick, with a mind of its own, swelled half-hard. Perhaps sheer willpower could…

Of course. And he could also fly.

He propped the book in front of the impromptu tent in his trousers to conceal it, and with a great effort, he composed his expression. If Byrne were to come in, he wouldn’t be able to smell Robhain’s arousal, but surely he’d notice the ravenous look on his face.

Calm. He had to calm down. This was lust. Not unlike the blood lust he sometimes felt when he forgot to feed. This was leather lust. Nothing more.

But as he began to read the tiny script of the heavy book, his mind -- evil thing -- drifted away, sketching out dream after delicious dream. Taking Byrne up against that bookcase in the showroom. Pinning his wrists above his head. Nuzzling deep into his neck. Rubbing his dripping cock between the cleft of Byrne’s ass. Or Byrne, bent over the desk, Robhain dragging that leather down over his ass. Bryne’s hands scrabbling for purchase as Robhain stroked, cupped, and pinched. Sliding his hand deeper and brushing against a cock hard as…

… his own.

Robhain groaned, shutting the book. So much for that plan.

Perhaps if he fed. Yes, he did feel a burning in his lower belly that had nothing to do with lust. He had forgotten to break his day’s fast. With food in him, he would soon calm down.

To his relief, the cold box in the corner of his office held several glass jars of thick red liquid. Sheep’s blood. Bland in taste, but sustaining. Grabbing one, he began to gulp it down cold, not bothering to heat it over the small spirit lamp he kept for that purpose. Vile. But filling.

Cleaning his mouth with satisfaction, Robhain felt the ache begin to ease. Ahhh… better, much better.

Greatly relieved, he sat down at his desk again and began to scan the reports. News had it that a pirate ship had been captured in the Kappa quadrant, carrying a goodly load of contraband. Much of it magical in nature.

If he got a bid in early, he might get away with quite a steal himself.

Without thinking, he glanced up to call out to Byrne and tell him of the good news. Glanced up, just in time to see a paper flutter from one of the man’s stacks and, with a tsk of annoyance, Byrne bending in his chair to fetch it, long leg muscles flexing.

The burning began again, much lower than before. His cock swelled again, stubborn as ever, tingling with the need to be stroked.

Gods be damned!

Unwilling, Robhain remembered what had happened when the leather pants made their last appearance. By the blood that sustained him, did he remember…

A midnight meeting with a client. Who, he forgot. Someone monied, unlike their usual penurious clients. They’d taken care to dress nicely, even formally, for the occasion. Somehow Byrne missed the memo and rode his bike in to work that night. With the tight leather pants firmly encasing his ass.

Sometime during expensive, rare chicken-salad sandwiches Robhain pretended to nibble at for civility’s sake, he’d dropped his stylus under the table. Not thinking, he’d ducked to get it.

It had rolled between Byrne’s feet. He grabbed for it, raised up -- and found himself nose-to-cock with a hard bulge and the mouthwatering aroma of arousal tucked inside those leather pants. Seen Byrne’s hand, stroking gently, unaware of any observation. Seven hells, he’d barely made it back to his office before he climaxed.

What would have happened if they’d been alone? No Del, no wealthy client smelling of bitter coins and mothballs. Just him. Floor. Stylus.

Byrne’s hard cock. Gently trailing fingers. Would he have knelt between the casual spread of Byrne’s legs? Put his hands on both knees, guiding them wider apart? Pushed his face between those thighs, licking through bitter leather? Nibbling? Biting softly?

Would Byrne have gasped -- then moaned, relaxing open for him?

Would he have undone the leather bindings, released Byrne’s prick into his hands -- felt the warmth -- lowered his mouth to it…

Byrne made a pass in front of the window, book in hand. A big, heavy book, bowing him forward and thrusting his ass into sharp relief. Robhain shut his eyes tight at the sight. His cock throbbed now, perhaps even damp at the slit already, though he had not yet touched himself.

Notes and transmissions forgotten, he gave in to the daydreams. He would be no good for work that night, and might as well enjoy himself. Fantasies filled his mind, each one richer than the other. Why not enjoy them? Fantasies were safe. Safe in his mind, he could visualize touching Byrne’s hand, kissing him with lips that burned for it, sucking his cock till he burst in Robhain’s hungry mouth.

Rejection was not to be feared in dreams.

Or would Byrne reject him? Robhain wondered… sometimes…

Working side by side, Robhain had often smelled arousal on Byrne, thick and rich as if he’d doused his skin with cologne. Mostly he’d convinced himself that it was not for him. But if it had been?

He’d heard quiet sighs as he passed by. External musings under Byrne’s breath that stopped when he realized Robhain was close enough to hear.

He’d seen that cock bulging in tight leather and in looser linen slacks that made it more and less obvious. Noticed Byrne giving him sideways looks while his hands twitched around book covers.

What if…

No, that was foolishness. But maybe, his mind insisted. Just maybe…

There was one memory of Byrne that he always carried with him. Couldn’t forget. Not ever.

Chapter Three

One night, one late, late night -- or rather, a very early morning with no one else around -- certainly thinking that Robhain had gone to his daylight sleep -- Byrne had taken advantage.

He hadn’t known that Robhain stood just behind a nearby display case, hidden to Byrne’s sight. Robhain had known that he should move -- should say something to alert Byrne, or slip silently away -- but he could not bear to.

Byrne had tipped back in his chair, leather pants shoved down to his thighs. Taken his swollen, purpled, and dripping cock in one hand while the other rolled his balls together.

His head had swayed on his neck as he pumped, hard fist jerking up and down. It looked painful in the best way, sending shivers through Robhain. He’d forced himself quiet. Known he should leave or look away, but couldn’t.

He’d watched Byrne’s face contort as climax overtook him. Seen his lips move silently in a word he couldn’t make out. Shuddered as Byrne shook with spasms that drenched his fingers with seed and flooded the room with scent.

Looked on, rapt, as Byrne ebbed into boneless, post-orgasm exhaustion. Drunk in the sight, the smell, and the sound, like a man dying of hunger and thirst.

Knew then, as he’d known before -- he wanted Byrne. In that leather, and out of it. Ached for him. Burned.

And not just for sex, though the need to penetrate Byrne’s no-doubt tight pink hole with his cock nearly consumed him. He wanted the man for holding, for drizzling biting kisses down his neck and chest until he writhed, laughed, and reached for him. For sitting quietly and reading with. For holding tightly to his chest as they slept the daylight hours away.

Robhain wanted him. Needed him.

And with the gulf of species between them, he had no idea how to obtain him.

Watching Byrne move across the room, Robhain couldn’t take it any more. Undoing the top of his trousers, he thrust his hand inside and wrapped his cock tight in one fist, stroking hard. Embarrassingly quickly, his orgasm burst over him with the strength of a force of nature, leaving him a soaking mess… and breathing, inhaling great shuddering gasps of unnecessary air into dead lungs.

Gripping the desk to gather control, he looked down -- and blanched paler than his usual white. Apparently, while dreaming, he had been doodling on the blotter. Not the usual elegant sketch-work that centuries had taught him, but simple stick-figures. One bent over a desk, one behind him. Labeled blunt and bold with what he wanted -- Byrne. Desk. Robhain. He barely had a chance to hide it with the book, and his hands and lap under the desk, when Byrne knocked delicately and peeked his head inside the office door. Robhain? Are you well?

Robhain managed a strained smile, somehow steadying his voice. Me? Fine as is possible. And yourself, this evening?

Intelligent man that he was, Byrne didn’t buy it. He slipped into the room with a move that sent the leather pants rippling over his thighs and made Robhain’s spent cock twitch again. You’re sure?

Very sure. Very, very sure. About your business, now, if you will, Robhain reassured and urged him, a little too quickly. Out, out, out, before you notice…

As you say. Byrne’s face remained doubtful, but he went, leather-encased ass and all.

Robhain heaved a huge sigh of relief. That had been close, far too close. What if next time…

Oh, gods. There would be a next time, wouldn’t there? Leather or no leather. And a next, and a next, until he died for want of the man, or did something neither of them could forgive or forget. Something that would end with Byrne’s accusation and his own execution.

* * *

Robhain didn’t dare come out of his office for a couple of hours. Not until he had… well… dried off and aired out. If Del lacked any quality, it would be tact. If Robhain went striding around with a wet spot on his pants, Del would certainly take loud notice of it. Worse, with a housewife’s lust for gossip, he would demand to know what had excited the vampire so.

Robhain would rather just hide.

It had nothing to do with Byrne still pottering around amongst the books just outside. Nothing at all.

So he sat, occasionally fanning himself surreptitiously or dabbing fruitlessly at his trousers with a handkerchief, watching his employees through his window. Apparently his prolonged absence and strange facial expressions had convinced Del that he had finally -- how did the boy put it? Gone mental?

Byrne shushed Del at the comment, claiming it wiser and kinder to be judicious about their employer’s behaviors. Nonetheless, his own glances at Robhain ranged from concerned to curious.

Robhain couldn’t say he blamed them. He usually made a point of spending time with the two and on the shop floor, making certain that all was as it should be. Not hiding in his office with the lights dimmed low.

He was not acting like himself that night, and they were well aware of it. Enough to be nervous. It was chancy enough, working for a blood-sucker.

But when that entity began to act strangely…

The night progressed toward morning, as nights always did. The shipment arrived. Robhain noted that, to Byrne’s disappointment and relief, the only dangerous pieces were low-level charms, dealt with in less than an hour. After that tiny bit of excitement the mortal fiddled with his paperwork, growing ever more obviously bored. And since customers were slow, the outside atmosphere, never formal, grew more casual yet as he and Del became silly with wee-hour weariness.

Robhain’s trousers were dry by then, but he lingered still in his office, a little smile on his face, watching the two men, who were utterly unaware of him and enjoying one another’s company. From what he could tell, Del had been invited to a dance that afternoon. He and Byrne whiled away nearly an hour cheerfully bickering over Terran waltzes and foxtrots and the like.

It made for fine entertainment until Byrne stood, flashing his leather-covered ass, and offered to show Del that he did indeed know what he was talking about.

He took Del in his arms, guiding the boy’s slight hands to his hip and shoulder, patting them in place with one of his warm smiles and a soft word. Del grinned back up at him, locking gazes with humor and appreciation.

Every hair on the back of Robhain’s neck stood on end.

Then, worse than he could have imagined, they began to dance between the tables and down the aisles. They flowed beautifully together, Byrne leading as if his feet barely touched the floor and Del following as lightly as the Fey Robhain suspected him of being. Their hands moved a bit, slipping up and down, not really caressing but sliding over one another’s hips and chests.

Robhain growled, deep and subsonic.

Mine!

Byrne. Holding Del. Sweet and boyish Del, fragile yet strong, dark curls fluttering and utterly tempting -- though not to Robhain. Byrne, with his white shirt falling in graceful swathes above those molded-to-his-skin leather pants. His arms around Del, holding him close enough to rub groins.

Robhain broke another stylus -- snap! in his fingers -- Mine!

He lunged from his chair and bolted for the door like a mad bull, a human-drinking vampire after his prey, before he could stop and think.

Mine!

The office door slamming open startled the dancing pair apart. Del stumbled a little on his toes, falling back to straighten a fallen curl. The gesture looked so innocent-guilty that Robhain felt his scowl deepen into still darker, angrier lines.

Bold if nothing else, Del scowled back at him. What’s your problem? he demanded. We were just having fun.

Robhain let out a low snarl. Stop it. Now.

But he was showing me --

Del! Robhain was glad he wasn’t holding yet another stylus, his fists were clenching so. Go. Home.

He blinked at Robhain. Huh?

Byrne looked embarrassed, smoothing his hands down over his hips in search of pockets that weren’t there. Robhain, we meant no harm. You’re tired. We’ll go --

No! Robhain narrowed his eyes. You stay. And come. Here. Now.

Del glanced at Robhain, at Byrne, and at a stake on a nearby table. Both men’s eyes tracked him, arriving at the same conclusions.

Not gone feral, Robhain managed to snap out. Don’t even think about it, boy.

Del raised his hands. I’m not thinking here -- more jumping to conclusions you really can’t blame me for.

Del… Robhain raised a hand to rub at the bridge of his nose. Out. Home. Go!

Del wavered. And Byrne?

Stays.

Robhain was used to being obeyed. But Byrne bristled at the order, arms crossing over his chest. Thrusting his pelvis out. And I’m to remain because?

Robhain glared at the man, all long legs encased in leather, hips narrow and flanks slim. He crossed his arms, pulling his shirt tight over his chest. Because I say so, he growled.

I think not. Byrne frowned in disapproval. Really now. You’re alarming Del and I must say I’m somewhat disturbed myself. Either you explain why I’m to stay and he’s to go, or I’ll be forced to depart as well.

They locked eyes for a long moment in an uncomfortable face-off.

Robhain gave in first to the flint in that blue. I need to talk to you. Alone.

Is that a fact? Byrne bit at his lower lip -- lickable, bitable lip -- and considered that. Finally he decided, turning just a bit away in a delicious profile. Del, it’ll be all right. Go on.

And Robhain burned for him. Too hot, too fierce, too much. Without having made the conscious decision, he knew that tonight would be the night. This couldn’t go on any longer.

A decision would be made. And come dawn, he would be a very happy vampire, or he would greet the sunlight before the justice keepers came for him as an accused rapist of humans. Byrne had tormented him enough.

Though Del made for the door, Robhain didn’t just assume Byrne would follow him. He jabbed a finger at his office door, making sure the man walked in first. With a doubtful glance back, Byrne obeyed -- and Robhain was transfixed.

Chapter Four

The soft thump of Del’s heels and the click of the outer door barely registered as he watched that curving ass swaying in front of him. Byrne was pissed off, no doubt about it, almost flouncing. Robhain licked his lips hungrily. Not even blood would taste so good, though he imagined for a brief flicker the heaven of biting and sipping just a taste of the man’s sweet blood when he came.

He wondered… did Byrne even know how walking like that made him look? How it showed off every slope and curve of him, looking as if he begged to be groped by eager fingers?

Robhain shoved his hands deep into his pockets. Not yet. Not just yet. At least he could wait until they were in the office.

Preferably with the door locked.

He expected it, but when the latch clicked Byrne whirled on him, eyes ablaze behind his glasses. Was that really necessary?

Robhain said nothing. He stalked a few steps closer, drinking in the scent of the man. His emotions. Some anger, yes. But also nervousness. Arousal. And even if he couldn’t smell it, he could see it -- yes -- a sudden hardness growing at the juncture of those leather-covered thighs.

Well? I’m waiting. Byrne smoothed his shirt down, tucking it firmly in. His hands glided over his crotch as he made sure the tails were straight.

Robhain’s jaw tightened.

He knew what he was doing, didn’t he?

Tease. Delicious, evil little tease! Robhain’s cock pulsed, lengthening and thickening as he moved toward Byrne, backing him into the wall. No words.

Just movement. Liquid as a jungle cat.

Byrne’s eyes grew wider as he approached, but he lifted his chin in defiance. I’m not afraid of you, he said with nary a shake in his voice. Whatever you’ve in mind, you’ll find that I --

You’re prepared for it? Robhain took another long look. Byrne’s cock was fully hard, outlined sharply under the leather pants. Lust poured off him in waves despite his pretense at fury.

Are you? he breathed, extending his arms to box Byrne in. Ready for anything?

So close to