One of the doors across the catwalk led to a small bedroom. It was cozy, furnished with a generously sized bed against a wall, a simple writing desk that looked as old as Tom; a single, comfortable chair by a modest fireplace that sprang to roaring life when they entered the room. And books. Stacks upon stacks of books lined the bare walls, stood in piles throughout the room, under the chair and the side table. They covered the mantle over the fireplace, a few on the bed, on the floor next to the bed, everywhere. There were far too many to catalogue with a glance, but they covered an enormous range of genres. From trashy paperback erotica, to high fantasy, to science fiction classics, biographies, classical literature, drama, Shakespeare, early American authors, covering a dozen languages. Everything. All arranged with no apparent regard for the Dewey decimal system, most bearing the appearance of repeated use.
Grey made a low whistle. “You were being literal when you said you haven't slept in almost four hundred years. Weren’t you?” The door shut behind them, drowning out the steampunk dystopia sounds from the shop floor, leaving only the crackling fire and the rain outside.
Jamie nodded, clearing the books off the bed and adding them to a stack on the floor. “Aye, I was.” He cast a glance at Tom as he straightened again. “Dinna hold back, Vampire. I want ye to take yer fill. I’ve power enough to spare.”
The air shifted around them, the room growing hot and cold at the same time, and Tom closed the distance between himself and Jamie in slow steps. The hunt was on.
Tom sank his pale fingers into the back of Jamie’s ruddy curls. The Sorcerer’s eyes fluttered shut as he gasped, and Tom captured his lips in an open-mouthed kiss that left Grey reeling from across the room. The sticky sweet scent of his venom wafted to him, dancing down Grey’s spine and directly to his prick.
“Tom,” he said when he pulled away at last. “That’s the name I want you to say when you come.”
Jamie blinked down at him, eyes going glassy and dark. At last he nodded, breathless.
“John, come and help our friend undress,” Tom said. “And put that staff down, you’re not going to blow anything. Except maybe for Jamie.”
Grey leaned his staff against a tall stack of books. As he approached them, Tom circled around behind Jamie, tugged the neck of his hoodie aside with one finger, and licked a long stripe up the side of Jamie’s neck. The Sorcerer shivered and pressed back against Tom. Grey knew what that felt like. The pure sensuality of the maneuver alone was exciting enough, and Tom’s venom soaked into the skin in the wake of his pink tongue, heightening the pleasure of everything.
Jamie wasn't wearing a shirt under his hoodie. Grey dragged the zipper down, exposing all that beautiful skin. He had a dusting of fair, ginger hair on his chest, and John gave into the wild urge to nuzzle against him, to drag his lips through that chest hair. It was finer than Grey had expected. He pressed a kiss into the warm flesh, mouthing his way up to where Tom had licked Jamie. Maybe there would be a trace of venom still on his skin.
There was, just a hint of it. No more than when Tom suppressed as much as he could so that sometimes sex could just be for sex and not for food. Grey sucked on Jamie’s neck, shoving the open hoodie to the floor. Big hands settled on Grey’s waist, hot and powerful. They worked their way under the layers of his coat and yanked his shirt out of his waistband. Fingertips skimmed over his skin, dipped under his jeans, and squeezed his arse. Grey sucked in a deep breath through his nose.
Jamie didn’t wear anything under his jeans either, and they slid right to the floor when Grey unfastened the fly. The Sorcerer’s prick was hard, curving gently upward and mouth-wateringly perfect. Grey started to sink to his knees, but Tom’s slender arms came around him from behind, his grip like iron, arresting his descent.
“Not yet, my love,” Tom purred in his ear. He stripped off Grey’s coat and shirt, Jamie going to work on his belt but getting distracted and staring up at Grey. “Look how he wants you.” Tom’s breath was warm against his skin and made Grey shiver. “Do you see? It’s not just my kiss, John, that lust is real.” He let out a breathy sort of moan and pulled Grey hard against his chest. He was naked too. “I should be jealous, shouldn’t I? Because you want him as badly as he wants you.”
“Tom,” Grey gasped, stepping out of his shoes and jeans as Jamie dragged them down and off. “It’s not—”
“Shh,” Tom hissed. His tongue ran over the shell of Grey’s ear, sucking his earlobe into his mouth with a slurping sound that overshadowed the hardware of his belt jangling. “You don’t have to explain. I want him too.” He grabbed Grey by the chin and turned him into a rough kiss.
Tom’s venom hit Grey’s blood at full force. It started as tingling heat in his core, spreading outward through the rest of his body in a wave of intense arousal. It cooled to a slow and steady burn, a pleasant warmth and a disconnected, floaty sensation. His vision blurred like too much liquor without that uncomfortable, dizzy sensation. All the minor aches and pains that had faded into the background of Grey’s awareness disappeared completely.
Grey complied without hesitation when Tom steered him to the bed. He sat between Tom’s legs, leaning back against his bare chest while Tom stroked his hair and left a trail of wet, venomous kisses over his shoulders. It dragged him under, drowning Grey in a pleasant sea of want and desire, chasing away inhibitions and misgivings, leaving him safe in the harbor of Tom's care.
If the Sorcerer spoke, Grey couldn't hear him over the foggy sound of his own rushing blood and Tom’s breathy sweet nothings whispered into his ear. Jamie crawled naked onto the bed, up the length of Grey's body, the image of a self-assured cat. He dragged that beautiful hard prick over Grey's leg, and it cast off sparks between them.
Kissing Jamie was like kissing a stormcloud. His lips still tasted of whisky, moreso now than before. His hair smelled of ozone and coming rain, eons of raw power thrumming beneath the surface of his skin. It was a sweet kiss, at first. Gentle, testing the waters. Tom leaned over his shoulder and drew Jamie away from Grey, plunging tongue-first into a kiss full of so much venom that the smell was overwhelming.
Grey whimpered and pawed at Jamie’s arms, shoulders, chest, all the firm, muscular places that had tragically been kept hidden under his hoodie. Not satisfied to merely test the waters and be done with it, he wanted that mouth back. Grey traced a finger down the seam where Tom and Jamie’s lips met. Jamie turned his head and captured Grey’s finger in his mouth and sucked on it, hard, the sensation going directly to his prick, leaking lazily between them.
“Fucking hell,” Grey said, his voice hoarse and thick, tight in his throat. Then that hot mouth was on a nipple, teeth gently scraping the sensitive flesh and stealing his breath.
Tom wrapped his arms around Grey, his unearthly cool hands drawing gooseflesh from his heated skin. “You’re making me so strong, my love,” he whispered into Grey’s ear.
Without warning or preamble, Jamie stuck two of his fingers in Grey’s mouth, a question in his cloudy eyes as he looked up. His tongue flicked over Grey’s nipple.
“Do you want him to penetrate you?” Tom asked. One of his cold hands rested on the side of Grey’s neck, the place he always touched him when he wanted an honest answer. That was how this worked with three, when Tom fed, soaking their brains with venom. Tom may be a vampire who fed on sex, but he wasn't a sexual predator in the mortal sense of the word. He got off on consent about as much as Grey got off on blowjobs. So Tom kept a watchful eye on the festivities, made sure everyone had a choice.
In reply, Grey sucked on the fingers in his mouth and nodded. Then the fingers were gone. An enormous, strong hand pushed Grey’s legs apart, one of the fingers breaching him.
Grey gasped and the Sorcerer kissed him again while his mouth was still open. No more testing the water then. They dove in, wet, insistent tongues and gasping moans. Jamie rutted against Grey’s leg. Tom rolled his hips, his prick hard against Grey’s back, his pale legs tightening against his torso. He was drowning in the best possible sense of the word, Tom’s venom letting him down easy into the sea of euphoria.
The kiss ended far too soon, and Grey took in a big gulp of air, dizzy. One minute Jamie hovered over Grey's mouth, the next he swallowed around his prick, kiss- and venom-plump lips sinking directly to Grey’s root. Grey cried out and tried to thrust up into his mouth, but Jamie had added a second finger to his arse and the Sorcerer was much, much stronger than he was.
Jamie sucked Grey’s prick with the most amazing enthusiasm. He moaned as much as Grey did, rutting desperately against his leg. Grey plunged his hands into Jamie’s messy curls, tangling his fingers in his stag-red hair and petting him. Maybe it was the contrast of Tom's cold body behind him, but Grey thought Jamie felt warmer than a normal man, feverish without the sickly pallor.
“Oh, John,” Tom cooed. “You’re both so beautiful from this angle. Do you see how you make him fall apart? He wanted me for my power, but you…” Tom kissed Grey’s neck and in his sweaty hair. As usual when he fed, his body had begun to warm against Grey's back, a slow heat that started at his chest before gradually spreading to the rest of his body. “You, my dearest, he wants for the pleasure of having you. Isn’t that right, Sorcerer?”
Jamie looked up, locked eyes with Grey, and nodded desperately—an interesting sensation with Grey's cock in his mouth—curling his fingers inside of him and setting off fireworks behind his eyes. That naked hunger on his face was more intoxicating than Tom’s venom. Pulling off of Grey’s prick, he said, “Aye.” His fingers came out next, and Jamie took another, shivering kiss from first Tom, then Grey. “Aye, he’s right,” he said against Grey’s mouth. “Do ye ken how lovely ye are?”
Tom’s hands, far stronger than they should be for belonging to such a slender man, pushed Grey up into Jamie’s waiting arms, and slid out of the bed. Tom drifted to the edge of Grey’s vision, but not his consciousness. After years and years together, they were bonded, and Grey could always tell where Tom was.
Whatever Tom was doing occurred in the distance, while Jamie kissed him in the immediate vicinity. Grey wrapped his arms around the Sorcerer, fingers tightening in his hair, his oddly hot skin startling against John's body. He bucked up, jabbing his prick against Jamie’s hips. They both moaned.
It had been years since Grey had kissed anyone like this except for Tom. Sure, they'd had threesomes before. The occasional, attractive man or woman would catch their eye and be down for it. Tom fed carefully from them, small sips that could sustain him and only rendered his prey a little sleepy. They rarely kissed anyone else though. And Grey never, ever Gazed with those people in the course of their tryst.
Tom returned, knelt on the bed behind Jamie, and wrapped an arm around his middle, loose fist stroking the Sorcerer's cock.
Jamie groaned and bucked into Tom's hand, the head of his prick now slippery and prodding the cleft of Grey's arse. Tom kissed and nibbled Jamie's shoulder and neck, making him shudder, distracting him.
Grey stole another one of those deep, soul-piercing kisses from the Sorcerer’s mouth, reclaiming his attention. "I want you," Grey said, rubbing his arse against Jamie's prick.
Tom’s hands were pale against Jamie’s hips, fingertips gone white and digging in. “You’ll take good care of my boy, won’t you, Sorcerer?”
“Aye,” Jamie replied and sank slowly into Grey. They both gasped and groaned and clung to each other as Jamie started to move.
It was a little like being fucked by a comet, if a comet were hot rather than cold and in possession of a thick cock. Jamie’s body practically vibrated with all the raw power and energy it contained, held carefully in check—or skimmed off by Tom. “Jamie,” Grey whispered, just to feel his name on his own lips.
“I’ve got ye, John,” Jamie murmured back, kissing him again and rocking into him.
Tom hummed in ecstasy above them both. “And I’ve got you. Hold still a moment. That’s it.”
Jamie paused, Grey holding tight to his hot back and trying his damnedest not to thrust up and rock the boat. The Sorcerer let out a sigh so familiar that Grey grinned. He knew too well how good it felt to be taken by Tom from behind. For several pounding heartbeats, no one moved, just the sound of the rain against the roof, the hearth crackling, and their ragged breathing as they settled into each other.
Tom spoke first, gentle in Jamie’s ear. “Are you alright?”
“Aye,” Jamie answered, grinning down at Grey, letting him get gloriously lost in those dragon eyes.
Tom knew perfectly well that Grey was alright, but he answered anyway. “Yes.” He found Tom’s hand where it rested on Jamie’s hip and tangled their fingers together.
The rest of it was a mind-blowing blur, Tom fucking Jamie, Jamie fucking John, John surrendering to the decadent overload. When it was just Grey and Tom, Grey was usually on top. Tom liked to lie back and watch Grey go wild riding him, giving him more control even as Tom fed on him.
The Sorcerer could end Grey’s life with the snap of a finger and a nudge of will, but he wouldn’t. Grey had no idea why he wouldn’t, after the centuries of bodies piled up along the road of his long life, but he knew that Jamie wouldn’t. It was a thrilling razor’s edge to walk. All he could do was hold on tight and give into it.
Tom bit down on the bend of Jamie’s shoulder, hard, with purpose, making Jamie hiss. His teeth were no sharper than a normal man’s, and he didn’t actually subsist on blood. But a bit of his venom, applied directly to an open wound, amplified the effect enough to completely incapacitate a mortal. He licked the narrow punctures in Jamie’s flesh, the sticky sweet smell of his venom overwhelming. Well, Jamie had said he wanted to experience Tom’s power.
Jamie’s eyes went totally black, swallowing up the narrow, reptilian pupils. Grey had never seen Tom feed on another immortal before, and the Sorcerer was no ordinary immortal. Just watching Tom fuck Jamie would have been sufficient to stock his spank bank for years to come. But to have Tom fucking Jamie into John while Jamie drowned in ecstasy… it was rather the pinnacle of sexual experience.
A hot wave of pleasure washed over Grey, knocking the breath from him in a gasp, leaving his arms and legs sweaty and tingly. Hells bells, he was close. Tom tightened his grip on his hand. Jamie clutched him close to his chest, panting and moaning in Grey’s ear, breathing his name over and over. Tom was doing most of the work at this point, fucking them in a wild rhythm that shook the bedframe.
The wave hit Grey again and swept him over the edge. Crushing Tom’s hand in his, Grey came with a shout. “Jamie—Tom, fuck!” his vision went white then red, digging his nails into Jamie's shoulder.
Jamie came too, burying his face against Grey’s throat, growling Tom’s name, just like Tom said he would. A deafening clap of thunder sounded overhead at the same time the Sorcerer shuddered and swore. Grey didn’t think it was a coincidence.
The fire in the hearth went out, plunging them into total darkness. Hovering over both of them, Tom’s eyes emanated an alien, pearly white glow. He came too with a wordless cry, finally going still, draped over Jamie’s back and gasping for breath. Jamie whimpered against the side of Grey’s neck, and John gave into the compulsion to stroke his sweat-drenched hair with one hand, soothing him.
At last, Tom hauled himself up. “Blessed fucking virgin sacrifices, you two.” He stretched his whole body like a glutted and contented cat. “I don’t think I’ve ever fed so much at one time in my life.” His body seemed to buzz audibly with borrowed power. Tom flexed his fingers, watching intently as sparks jumped between them, lighting up the dark for a moment.
Jamie slid out of Grey and rolled onto his side, his huge body curling up next to John. “Trunk,” he murmured. “Under the bed. The horn.” He laid his head on Grey’s shoulder with a sleepy groan and a sigh, long arms wrapped around him.
Grey combed his fingers through Jamie’s ruddy curls. He was fast asleep.
Eyes still casting that strange glow, Tom knelt next to the bed and laid his hand on Jamie’s relaxed forehead.
“He’s alright?” Grey whispered.
Tom nodded. “He’s fine. Poor thing. He should sleep for about a day or so, I’d think. Ought to do him some good.”
Grey hummed in agreement. “He said something about a trunk under the bed?”
“Hmm? Oh.” Tom stooped and felt around under the bed, the sound of his hand rustling about and shoving books across the floor muffled by the mattress. “Well, what do you know?” He sat back up. “Light the fire again, would you, my love?”
Focusing his will on the hearth—no easy feat in his post-coital fog—Grey summoned his command for fire and released it with a quiet, “Incendio.” The hearth came to crackling life, illuminating the room in a gentle glow again.
Tom fiddled with whatever he’d retrieved from under the bed—a trunk, presumably. Old hinges creaked as he opened the lid. Tom sat back on his bare heels and laughed. “Wow. Wow. No wonder the Unseelie Queen is pissed at him.”
“Why? What is it?” Grey whispered, wary of waking Jamie. He craned his neck to get a look but Jamie groaned in his sleep and held onto him tighter. His soft snores were contagious and Grey's entire body felt as if it were full of lead, threatening to drag him under as well.
“It’s the Huntress’ horn,” Tom said, an impressed sort of surprise dripping from his every word.
Grey blinked. “He has it? Just… under the bed?”
Tom grinned, triumphant. “Yeah. I’ve absorbed enough of his power that I think I can use it to scatter the Wild Hunt.” He held up a polished ram's horn for Grey to see.
It was deceptively simple. If he’d happened upon it, Grey would not likely connect it to the Wild Hunt, the Unseelie Queen, or Jamie for that matter. Amazing how mundane some powerful artifacts can be. He looked down at Jamie, his face relaxed and peaceful and his heart ached with an unhinged urge to protect this being who was far more powerful than Grey would ever be. “And he’s just giving it to us. I suppose he really wants to see his children.”
“Guess so.” Tom stood and started sorting through piles of discarded clothes. “We need to shower and change. I don’t know how long I’ll have enough of his power to use the horn. We should go after the Wild Hunt. Try to catch them in the open, away from cities and civilians, if we can. Can you wriggle out of the octo-cuddler’s clutches?”
Grey hated to risk disturbing Jamie, but Tom was right. It took some cautious wiggling and slithering, but he worked his way free, landing on the floor in a crouch. “We’ll come back to check on him.”
Tom gave Grey a kind smile and squeezed his arm. “Yes. You made a bargain, after all. And that kiss you sealed it with…” He whistled. “Yowza. There’d be consequences for breaking that oath, I think. Get dressed. We’ve got work to do.”