Work Header

Guess Who's Coming To Dinner.

Work Text:

Vampires take human lovers all the time. There's nothing noteworthy about it. Most of the ones Gerry's had over the years have passed beneath Sean's radar, but this one is different. It hasn't been too long ago that Gerry had been called down to the castle and chewed out for his taste in friends. He wants to show Sean he was wrong. Gerry has marvelous taste in who he fucked, and Jonny's a perfect example of the type of boys Gerry likes. Just obedient enough to matter, and a great fuck. And he has a great mouth on him.

He hasn't told Jonny much about where they were going. He's mentioned the castle and given Jonny a quick rundown on the family and who's related to who and then told Jonny he could ask questions in the car. It isn't more than a five-hour drive, and so Gerry hopes whatever Jonny wants to ask he'll do it now and not embarass Gerry later.

Jonny's nervous. Hell, he's meeting Gerry's parents. Well, his dad. Vampire father. And those uncles. And something about brothers. He's fidgeting, watching the rain threaten as they make their way down the highway into the country. He didn't want to start asking questions the minute they pulled out of the city, although he was sure he had more than enough questions to fill the five hours, so he'd patiently waited an hour or so.

"Do I call them anything special? First names or last? How formal are they?"

Gerry's been expecting the first question for a while. He keeps his eyes on the road, slipping in and out of traffic. "You'll never go wrong with calling them sir. My brothers will probably want you to use their first names." He can easily see Patrick taking a liking to Jonny, and the other ones are decent enough. "We don't use last names in the family. It's more a way to distinguish ourself among outsiders. I took the name Butler on a whim."

"Sir. Yes. Got it." His mother always said err on the side of polite. "So, you were born without a last name? All of you?"

"What's so peculiar about that?" Gerry shoots Jonny a quizzical look. "Back when I was born, it was more fashionable to refer to someone by the name of their homeland or city. That was the way you could tell one man named Thomas from another one."

Jonny spends a minute in silence. Back when I was born ... He still hasn't wrapped his brain around the fact he's shagging a centuries-old vampire. "About that, Gerry. The age thing. I'm meeting peop-- , uh, vampires today who are how old?"

"The horsemen are all about the same age, and they all fought in the Crusades." Gerry lets that fact sink in, and then goes on. "Pierce is about five centuries older, but he probably won't attend tonight. Harry doesn't have more than a hundred and ten years on Sean. You know how old I am. Patrick's nearing five hundred, Dommy was born in the early 17th century, Colin's a result of the Peninsular War, and then Hugo, Keanu, and Tony are all this century."

"Cripe. I'm gonna feel like a friggin' baby." He slinks down into the passenger's seat. "They know about me?"

"What, that I've got a new playmate? Yeah. Even told them about your movie."

New playmate. Yeah, that's what you are. "Uh, I'm not expected to," Jonny starts, his words falling out of his mouth in time with drizzle. He doesn't know quite how to phrase the question on his mind. "I know I'm not the main course, but will they? Suck me, want to taste me."

"Probably," Gerry replies easily. It doesn't bother him to think of the uses his family would have for Jonny. He'd gotten over any ounce of jealousy before he reached his first century. The Horsemen were a force unto themselves and they always, always got what they wanted. It was easier to just let them than to protest. "But they'll probably want you to suck them. See what you can do."

"Suck them?" It's not that Jonny's prudish. He isn't. "They'll want to have sex?" And the thought's both exciting and unnerving, has him shifting in the seat to adjust himself. "What are they like? Tell me more about them, what they do."

Gerry chuckles. After all this, Jonny's still an innocent at heart. How endearing. "They'll want to fuck you. Possibly three at a time." Gerry laughs harder at Jonny's look. "Yes, it's possible, especially when it comes to Peter. He's very ingenious. Can always find a way to get what he wants."

Jonny tries not to swallow hard, but it's impossible since his throat's parched and Gerry's talking about being fucked three at a time. Three!? He has to be joking. "Peter. He's one of the Horsemen. Right?" He's still trying to put names with titles and separate fathers from brothers. "And you're sure they're all going to be there? Not just to me meet, I hope."

Gerry boxes Jonny's ears. "No, not just to meet you. The family's usually around this time of year, especially the Horsemen. That's Sean, Daragh, Peter, and Marton," Gerry adds slowly, as if talking to a child. "Harry's my biological uncle, Sean's my father. Is this getting through?"

"Ow!" Jonny shakes his head. "Yes, it's getting through. I'm not stupid, Gerry," he says defensively. "It's just a lot to take in, and I don't want to make any mistakes. I don't want to embarrass my lo-, you."

"You won't embarrass me. You can only embarrass yourself." But Jonny has a point about it being a lot to take in. Gerry rarely notices it, the family had been much smaller when he was a baby, but when all your relatives couldn't fit around a banquet table you knew there were a lot of them. "Try saying them back to me. My youngest brother's name is...?"

Jonny thinks. "Youngest brother is Tony," he says after a minute, "but Hugo and Keanu," he mangles the name, "are close to his age. Right? Patrick's older than you, isn't he?"

"Patrick's younger than me. I'm the oldest." Gerry sighs. "Honestly, I'd thought that little would get through. Tony's the baby and he acts like it. Hugo's ninety, Keanu's seventy-five. Keanu's a cousin, but not biological. Harry's sons shouldn't be there, so you don't have to memorize them."

"I'm sorry." It's damned overwhelming, like trying to learn every kid in school in the first five minutes. Jonny sighs, throws his head back against the seat. "I do remember Dom's older than Colin and Harry's older than Sean and Pierce is like your grandfather and old as dirt or some such thing." The rain's heavier now, the sky blackening as they head through the countryside to the northern coast. Jonny's never been to a castle, well, not one people actually lived in. He's not sure if he expects moat and drawbridge and these Horsemen to look like something out of Excalibur. Or just relatively normal people, like Gerry's turned out to be.

The road is getting slippier and the windshield wipers are working as fast as they can. Gerry slows the car, careful not to ram into the truck behind him. He'd factored the weather into his driving time estimate and they should get to the castle with time to spare. "Right. And remember to not accept any invitations to go up with Patrick, or Craig, if he comes, to the North Tower. Marton would let you out after a few nights. My darling brother would keep you there for as long as he wanted."

"North Tower? Like in torture kind of tower?" Jonny's squirming, whether he wants to or not, the thought of castles and dungeons. "And if you want to show me the North Tower," he says, glancing over and smiling at his vampire lover, "should I ask for a chaperone?"

"Torture," Gerry confirms. "Pain. Sex. Brilliant sex. Even some Inquisition-type, though I prefer the more...precise toys." He licks his lips and swerves to avoid a car stalled in the middle of the lane. "What's the fun in not spilling blood?"

"Fuck." Jonny's not sure if the expletive's for the nearly missed car or the description Gerry's giving. "Inquisition." He bats down the Monty Python response lurking in his brain. "You can have my blood, you know," he says precisely. "I'm starting to like it." Getting damned addicted to it.

"Damn good thing you are." Gerry snorts. "I'm not going to stop taking it." It's nothing spectacular, Jonny's blood, but it's addictive as hell, especially when the lad's had a few joints.

"You want it now?" Jonny asks, almost too hesitantly. "Or something else? How much longer's the drive?" Blood and sex aren't everything, and Jonny's content to keep talking, but he's also willing to give Gerry anything, everything. There's beer and water packed in the cooler and Jonny even has a few of those joints tucked into his jacket pocket.

"About two hours, with this weather." The rain's clearing up, but it's just the heart of the storm. It will be back with a vengeance in less than fifteen minutes, Gerry knows. "And as much as I'd love your dripping red wrist in my mouth now, I'd rather keep myself hungry for tonight. But I'll take a Mars Bar if there's one around."

"Mars Bar. Coming up." Jonny lifts up the seatbelt and turns enough to reach the backseat, snag the bag and rummage through it. He pulls out a candy bar for Gerry and a malted milk for himself. He rips off the candy bar wrapper halfway down before offering it to Gerry. Hungry for tonight. He tries not to think about the prospect; it'll make him too hard.

Gerry grabs the bar without taking his eyes off the road. His fangs slide down automatically and he bites the bar in two with them, fangs sliding easily down through the chocolate. Chocolate and blood go so well together that if Gerry can't have one, he'll take the other.

Jonny leans his head against the car's window, letting the rain-drenched pane cool him as the drive wends back out toward the coast. They've come 'cross England in driving from Glasgow to York. The family home's on the coast, Gerry had said, a castle overlooking the North Sea. Jonny catches a glimpse of what looks like a tower in the distance, on the hill.

"Is that it?" he asks, straightening. "There's a tower just cresting the hill."

Gerry doesn't need to look to see what Jonny's talking about. "That's it," he confirms. "Home sweet home." He drives past the open gate and slows to let Jonny get all his sight-seeing out at once. There's a new garage on the opposite side of the house from the stables and Gerry heads straight towards it. "Last questions?"

"Only a million," Jonny says, a bit awestruck by the sheer size of the place. And he can bet which tower's the North, just from glancing at the ominous structure off to his right. "But they can wait till I've met the family."

"You may not have a chance then." Gerry pulls into the garage smoothly, straightening out between Peter's Aston Martin and Sean's BMW. "Now or forever hold your peace."

"I'll opt for holding, Gerry," Jonny says, unbuckling and slowly opening his door, careful not to bang the damned expensive car to his left. "Who knows, might get them answered without even asking." He's smiling as he shuts the door, looks over the car's top. "Oh, yeah. One question. We get our own bags?"

Gerry pops the trunk before taking the keys out of the ignition. "No, the servants'll get them." There aren't as many servants as there used to be, but there also used to be more people living in the castle. It balanced out. "You'll be staying with me, of course."

"Figured that," Jonny murmurs, reaching back in and snagging his backpack and jacket from the back seat. "Who do I get to meet first?"

Gerry shrugs. "Depends on if anyone is in the sitting room. If there is, it'll be Sean holding court." He reaches around Jonny and tugs on the backpack. "None of that. Don't carry anything in. It'll be one less thing you have to shed."

"Uh, it's got the laptop and other stuff, Gerry. Sure it's not okay for me to lug it in?" Jonny doesn't put it down, turns around. "Shed? What? I gotta strip when I get inside?"

No, he doesn't, but it would save time. Gerry wonders if he should just have Jonny strip down now, but decides against it. Wasting time later is much preferable to the ribbing he'll receive about keeping his human naked. "I don't care if it's the Hope bloody Diamond. You leave it out here."

"Yes, sir," Jonny snaps, dropping the backpack beside the car's boot. Just to be on the safe side, he tosses his jacket down over it. Stripping might not be a bad idea, Miller. Easier for them to devour you. He waits, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets, deciding it's best to let Gerry tell him when and where to move.

"Excellent." Gerry leads Jonny around to the main entrance and pushes the door open. He closes the door behind him and walks through the main foyer, listening for voices. As usual, the loudest are coming from the sitting room. Gerry heads in that direction, motioning for Jonny to follow. The voices get louder as they go until Gerry's slouching against the doorway. "Hi, Sean."

Jonny's following, a step behind, caught up in eyeing the tapestries on the entrance hall. "Fuck," he mutters under his breath, "they're bloody real." He stops when he nearly bumps into Gerry, and then realizes there are voices coming from in front of his lover. He pokes his head around and looks into the room.

There's a large fireplace, big enough to walk into, covered in stonework, and in front of it a grouping of couches and chairs. Sean looks around on hearing the greeting. "Well, if it isn't the errant son come home," he says, not bothering to stand. "Come in, boy. All's forgiven."

Jonny puts the voice with a face, or rather a profile. Blond, attractive. Sean? He connects. Gerry's father. Oh, fuck. Couldn't be just one of the brothers to start with?

"Delightful. That means I can start annoying you again." Gerry looks over his shoulder and moves over so that Sean and his uncles can see Jonny. "This is Jonny. He's mine."

Peter's sitting close by to the fire, moving around a log with the poker. He doesn't look back before speaking. "I saw his face on a bus in London last week. Is he still pretending to be Scottish?"

Jonny blushes, wishes he could hide, but Gerry's nudging him forward into the room. "Nice to meet you, sirs," he says, walking hesitantly near the couch.

Sean stands and looks over the human, which makes Jonny immediately feel a lot smaller than he is, even though he's nearly the same height as the vampire. "Oh, yes, that one," Sean says, his lips quirking a smile. "I think I like the normal voice better. Speak again."

"Uh, um," Jonny stammers. Speak again? I'm not a trained pet. "That's me, sir, on the bus. Rather embarrassing, film being advertised that way."

"They're not advertising the film," Peter says. "They're advertising you. Five young, vibrant actors." His voice thickens as his fangs descend. "Snarking at the world."

Gerry rolls his eyes and sits down on an oversized chair. "I brought your medical text back from Glasgow, Peter. It's with my things. Next time don't leave it in the bathroom or I will not be held responsible if one of the partygoers masturbates onto the cover."

"Not my problem." Peter says. "You could stop having parties and then you won't have to worry."

Jonny doesn't know what to make of Peter's reaction, remarks. And those damned fangs. He swallows hard, looking around for a place to sit, deciding to stay close to Gerry and settling against the arm of the oversized chair.

"You're frightening him, Peter," Sean cautions, walking over to where his son and the human have settled. "Stop it." He touches Jonny's cheek with his hand, running the fingers down the cheek. Jonny pulls back slightly, then stops, remembering how Gerry said his family would want him.

"It's all right, sir," Jonny says. "I'm not frightened. Not really."

"You're not." Sean closes his eyes, listens for Jonny's heartbeat. It's not racing. It's rather normal. "No, you're not, it seems. Gerry must be training you well, then, to not be afraid of vampires."

Gerry wraps his arm around Jonny's waist and tugs him down until the human is half sitting on top of him. The chair's big enough for two, but Gerry wants Jonny on his lap where he belongs. "Not my training. He's never been smart enough to be scared of us." Gerry'll be damned if he takes credit for something Jonny did on his own. It's silly to claim you did something you didn't do.

"Aw, isn't that precious. Human all curled up with his vampire lover."

Jonny looks up and connects the voice with a new face, then curls into Gerry's embrace. No, he's not scared, but the familiarity of being held by his lover is comforting. It takes him a minute to place the look. Stuart. Townsend. Fuck.

"He's adorable, Ger," Stuart says, leaning over the chair back, fingers finding their way into Gerry's hair. "Looks positively delicious."

Peter laughs and settles back, content the fire's not going out. "Be careful, Stuart," he smirks. "Master says we shouldn't frighten the boy."

"Fuck Sean," Stuart says. "I'll frighten anyone I want. And Ger doesn't mind, do you?" He tilts Gerry's head back and presses a biting kiss against his lips. When he pulls back, there's blood dripping out of the corner of his mouth. "See, didn't think so."

Gerry sucks against the gash in his inner cheek, filling his mouth with blood. He stands partially and kisses Stuart, feeding him his blood. "Don't mind at all." He smirks and sits down, stroking Jonny's arm to reassure him. "I enjoy your theatrics."

Theatrics. Jonny's reassured. It's a game. See how much we can tease the human. Well, the human can play, too. He leans back and tilts his head, kissing Gerry, licking off the smear of blood on his lips. "I'm not frightened," he whispers, looking up at Stuart.

Stuart grins, a feral smile. "See, Sean, the human wants it," he purrs. "Ger's brought home a nice new playmate for us all."

"Fine, then," Sean says, coming up behind Stuart, wrapping his arms around his lover's waist. "Let him play with Gerry, luv. You're mine for the moment." He licks over Stuart's bare neck, pushing the hair back with his face, then bites, sucking hard and pulling out the blood.

"No complaint from me." Stuart arches his neck to the side to give Sean more room to work. His fingers clasp around Sean's arms and he holds him closer against him. There's the familiar pain and accompanying lightheadedness from being bitten and it only serves to get Stuart harder.

Peter tosses the poker into the rack and stands up. "What a pretty domestic setting," he mutters, and wraps himself around Sean from behind. He takes advantage of Sean's distracting by mouthing the back of his neck, letting Sean feel the tip of his fang but not the accompanying bite.

Jonny's fidgeting in Gerry's lap. Okay, he said they were a friendly family. And there was gonna be sex. He just wasn't expecting it the minute he walked in the door.

"Good," Sean says, pulling up after a minute, lips coated in Stuart's blood. "I hate complaints. So messy to deal with. He nudges back into Peter's touch. "Brother, take what you want." Then he looks down, his eyes meeting Jonny's. "I think I should like to taste your blood later, after you've fed my son."

The fidgeting stills at Sean's voice, his words, and Jonny can't think of anything but curling into Gerry's embrace. "Please," he says, pushing back his sleeve and holding his wrist to his lover's mouth. "Want to bleed."

Sean's movement had almost made Peter's fang scrape his neck. "Naughty." He pulls back enough so he can keep teasing Sean, which is what he wants.

But unlike his uncle, Gerry wants a taste of something other than sweat on skin. He bites down on Jonny's wrist and sucks hard.

"To tease is naughty, Peter," Sean mock-growls. "Our family's newest member understands that. Look at how eagerly he feeds our boy."

Stuart whimpers, that insatiable purr of a noise slipping off his tongue. "Sean, please, more."

Jonny smiles at Stuart's words. He understands. The need. The desire. Even as Gerry's sucking the blood from his wrist, he wants more, what only Gerry can give him. The taste. Rationally, he knows it's an addiction, one he's taken to as easily as Sick Boy to heroin. Emotionally, he doesn't care. The addiction is Gerry, and that's what he wants.

"To err is human. To tease, vampiric." Peter presses a sharp kiss to the top of Sean's spine and then starts working his way down, biting every second kiss but never breaking the skin. "And Gerry understands that better than some." He makes a broad swipe across the center of Sean's back. "You were always overeager, brother."

Sean tilts his head back at Peter's nipping. "Not a damned thing wrong with being eager," he murmurs, sliding his hand around Stuart's waist, slipping in between the denim of loose jeans and flesh, wrapping his fingers around the stiff cock he knows is waiting. He doesn't notice his own jeans being ripped until Peter's mouth is on his thigh. "Whatever Gerry learned was at your hands, dear, sweet brother."

"Mm. I know it was." Peter rakes his teeth down, finally letting them draw blood. He licks them up quickly and then moves lower to kneel behind Sean. He bites down at the top of Sean's thigh and starts lapping at the dripping blood.

Sean resists the urge, intense and nearly overwhelming, to spin around, yank Peter up from the stone floor and slam him back down into it, growling and tearing at his brother's clothes. He snarls instead, contenting himself with Stuart's throat while Peter siphons blood from his thigh.

Sean's blood tastes so good that Peter doesn't care about the rude noises Sean is making in protest. Let him feel frustrated. They have all night to torment Gerry's new catch.

And the new catch is performing excellently. Gerry widens the wound with his teeth, sucking harder. But when he opens his eyes, it's Colin he sees standing over him. With a grin, Gerry licks over the bleeding marks on Jonny's wrist. "Hello, brother. Jonny, say hello to Colin."

Jonny looks up, a good bit dazed from the blood loss, and finds himself staring into eyes he'd swear are black to match the spikes of hair. "Hello, Colin," he says, head lolling against Gerry's chest. "You're," he thinks for a minute, his brain spinning with all the sensory input, "not the baby. You're Peninsular."

"He's what?" Stuart asks with a laugh, which is quickly interrupted by a moan, Sean's teeth gnawing at his throat, pulling out the blood in drips and drabbles.

"Peninsular," Gerry says. "As in the war." He grins at Colin. "When you were born, little brother. Only way he can tell the difference between you and Tony. And he's getting pretty good at it."

Colin smirks. "Let me get to know him, Ger. I'll show him just how much difference there is between me and him."

Peter brings his head up from somewhere south of Sean's arse long enough to interrupt. "No, Colin, you stay away from the human. We're trying to keep him in the family, not send him running back to Glasgow."

"Fuck," Colin says, reaching down and swiping his finger over the corner of Gerry's lip, picking up just enough of Jonny's blood to press against his tongue. "Tastes good. Does he fuck well?"

"Fucks very well," Gerry says absently, not looking at Colin. He's glaring at Peter, who doesn't look like he cares. "I think I can control him better than that. He does what I say and goes where I tell him to go. And if I want to pass him around, then he'll be passed around."

Peter returns the glare with a rumbling snarl before he's elbowed by Sean, the blow catching him on the shoulder. "I didn't mean you couldn't handle him, Gerry," he says, sincerity melting off his words. "I just didn't want Colin annoy you."

"Yeah. Right." Colin snorts, leans down over the chair's arm, face inches from Jonny's. "So, bro, Jonny getting passed around before dinner? Or is he dessert?"

"Dessert." Gerry replies. He tugs Colin by the hair and brings him forward for a bite on the lip. "A position you know well, baby brother."

"Not the baby anymore," Colin answers sullenly. He kisses Gerry, just to taste more of Jonny on him. "And your human tastes good. I want some."

Jonny whimpers at the closeness, Colin's rather straightforward desire for him. Fuck. He's fidgeting, a natural reaction to nervousness. He trusts Gerry. Completely. Would he pass me around? Like dessert? And he can't reconcile the rational thoughts in his head, that he should be afraid, concerned, with the way his crotch is suddenly too tight for his jeans and Colin's way too close. Close enough to taste. If he dared.

"Aw, don't be nervous." Colin says to Jonny. He moves over and grabs Jonny's wrist. He licks over the cut made by his brother and then kisses it. "If he's going to get passed around, Gerry, he should get used to it now. Sort of a preshow."

"Gerry, are you?" Jonny whispers. He doesn't want to be aroused by Colin's tongue, doesn't like the desire it's making him feel for someone other than Gerry. Maybe it's normal, though. Maybe this is how vampires feel. "Please. Yours. Want to please you."

"I told you I was going to," Gerry answers him, not bothering to lower his voice. "If Colin wants you, he can have you."

"What if I don't want Colin?" Jonny asks, almost hesitantly, knowing it's as much hypothetical as any other question. "If I want one of the others?"

"You'll get them in time," Gerry assures him. "But you do want Colin. I can feel it, smell it on you."

"Yes," Jonny admits, blushing, "I want Colin." He kisses Gerry's throat. "I want him to taste me like you do, burn me from the inside out. Is that okay?"

"Perfectly fine." It might not be if Jonny feels that way later, after they've gone and are home, but Gerry's shared humans with his brothers before. It's always simpler than sharing with his uncles. Gerry drops his voice, knowing that Colin can hear if he tries, but it's the thought that matters. "Why don't you show Colin just how much you want him?"

Show Colin just how much you want him. Jonny shifts in the chair, pulling himself up to his knees, stretching to where his head is level with Colin's. "I'm not sure how to offer myself to you," he says, blushing. "Blood. Body." He leans in, hesitantly touches his lips to Colin's mouth, taste the remnants of his own blood under his tongue. "Would you have me beg? Crawl across the stone? Whatever you want, Colin."

"Just your neck," Colin says. He leans back and smirks and then tugs Jonny onto the floor. He's down on top of him in an instant, pinning Jonny's hands above his head. "Ger's right. Orgy should be dessert."

"Fuck," Jonny lets out before he stops himself. He tilts his head, baring his throat. He can do that easily enough. Orgy. Dessert. He's hard as the stone floor he's pinned against. "Please, Colin."

Colin puts his finger on Jonny's lips. "No begging. No words. Ger'll snap my head off." He moves down and starts nuzzling Jonny's throat. "And I've a mind to do other things before he tries that." With hardly a look at his brother, Colin bites down and sucks.

Jonny goes under immediately, lulled by the bite, whatever it is that vampires do or have that seduces humans. He starts to say something. No words. Stops and just whimpers. It's good, Colin's mouth on his throat. It's not Gerry, though, and there isn't the connection, the intense need, but it's good.

"Oooh, look at that, Colin gets first bite," Stuart says, pouting a bit. "S'not fair. Should go to the elders."

Sean bites harder at Stuart's throat, creating a free flow of blood that stops Stuart talking altogether, except for whimpering moans. He's making occasional glances at his eldest son's human on the floor with the younger sibling. That boy's going to either fall for all of us or regret ever meeting Gerry.

"As much as it pains me to say it," Peter growls, rubbing his head against Sean's spine as he fucks him. "Stuart has a point. Your sons are being very bad."

Sean loves the way Peter has of being succinct, and usually right, at the most inopportune times. He pushes back into his brother's thrusts and lets their rhythm determine how hard Stuart gets it. Any other day, storm whipping at the castle's turrets and fire blazing in the hearth, Sean would linger, draw out the inevitable conclusion till they were all screaming. But they don't usually have a guest. And definitely not such a pretty, willing one. "Then correct them, brother," Sean says, words ending in a moan. "You've always been good at discipline."

"Flatterer." Peter almost screams as Sean pushes back against him hard. This kind of sex is always so good. "Not going anywhere until you come." He grabs Sean's wrists and presses them together, on the floor, over Stuart. "Come hard," he goes on, growling, "with me inside you and Stuart beneath you."

"Bloody hell," Sean snarls. "Awright, have your way." Another thrust, a second one, and he's coming. Damned hard, Stuart's body clenching around him. He pumps into his lover while his brother fills him. This kind of sex is perfect, exquisite. "Fuckin' come, now, Peter."

"As. You. Wish," Peter grunts. He comes inside Sean and then slumps down on top of him, as boneless as a blanket. "That was nice. We should do this more often." He pauses. "That's right. We do."

Sean laughs, but before he can say anything Stuart is pushing up at both of them. "Get off me, you bastards. You're not exactly featherweights, the lot of you and," he bites at Sean's shoulder, "I've not come, you twit."

"And you won't, either, if you know what's good for you." Peter rolls off Sean, managing to swat Stuart while he's at it. "We're saving you for dinner. Have one of Marton's sons blow you under the table."

Stuart pouts, though it's only half-sincere. The thought of Marton's sons is delicious. They're so free-spirited and, he sighs. "Yes, sir," he says, "but I thought the human was dinner." He rolls his head, glances at where Colin and Jonny are entwined on the floor. "Provided Colin leaves something for us."

"The human is dessert," Gerard corrects from the chair. "I wouldn't mind Keanu for dinner. What about you, Stu?"

"Keanu, hmmm," Stuart says, pulling himself from the pile of spent vampires and crawling to where Gerard is lolling his head back. "I think that would be decadent. Not sure Jamie has that on the menu, though." He kisses Gerard, lapping his tongue over the other's lips before nibbling into a full kiss.

Stuart tastes like Sean and Gerry can't help but grin as he kisses Stuart. "So it's Jamie back there? I'd wondered why it smelled so good. None the rest of you can cook. But I think even Jamie can make a last minute addition." Gerry smirks. "And what a lovely addition Keanu is."

"Hmm, love the way you think," Stuart purrs, stealing another kiss before slinking back and slithering over to kneel beside Colin's head. "He's adorable, Gerry. Can we move Colin enough for me to have a taste?" He grins, utter evil. "Just a little appetizer."

Colin looks to the side and flashes bloody fangs at Stuart. "No." He licks them clean, keeping eye contact with Stuart, and then winks. "He's too good. It's a wonder Ger's willin' to share."

Jonny's dazed, floating on the endorphins from having his blood drawn down, but he hears the exchange. "M'not a bloody toy," he slurs. "If I want, Stuart can taste me." He blinks, twice, focusing on Gerry, whose head is upside down for some reason. "Can't he, Gerry? You said I could be passed around."

"You are a bloody toy." Gerry can't help but grin. "A very bloody toy." He goes to his knees next to Jonny and pulls Colin off him. "If you have any more, there'll be none left for dessert."

Colin shrugs, turning his attention to Stuart. "C'mere, you," he says, letting his tongue lap over his teeth. "You can taste him off me."

"Bloody toy," Jonny says, almost sing-song. It's not that he's lost too much blood, just a good bit of it very suddenly, and he's a bit lightheaded. "I like that, Gerry. Will you play with me now?"

"Decent of you." It's Stuart's turn to exchange bloody kisses with Colin. Colin and Ger are right. The human's good.

"Play with you later," Gerry promises. "Jamie is going to come in any moment and order us into the dining room."

"Food? That sounds yummy." Jonny's not moving off the floor till that moment, when the dinner bell rings. Or the bat swoops in. Or whatever happens in vampire houses. "I'm starving. Head's floating."

"Knew I let them take too much," Gerry says. He sees a naked man come in from out of the corner of his eye and he straightens. "Jamie," he says. "Come join the orgy."

Jamie walks over the from the corner and looks over the spread of vampires. "You guys even want dinner?"

Sean laughs and rolls over on his back, looking up at Jamie. Human, barely 21. One of Daragh's. And a fuckin' good cook. "Jamie, we're starving," he says, pushing up on his elbows, nudging Peter from where he's draped over Sean's knees. "We just got a head start on dessert." He nods to where Jonny's curled against Gerry's shoulder. "Gerry brought home a friend."

"So I see. Nice looker." Jamie smiles. "C'mon with ya. Daragh and Marton are already at the table, and the other boys are heading down from the tower. Wine's poured and they'll start without you in a heartbeat."

"Can't have that," Peter says, getting up. "And Sean's right, we're starving. Lead on to the food."

Gerry chuckles, then looks down at Jonny. "Can you move?"

"No," Jonny whispers. "Not sure. Feel weak." He rubs his finger over Gerry's wrist. The burn starts in his stomach, spreads up through his lungs, and then he can taste it, in the back of his throat. The need. The desire. The hunger. "Feed me. Please."

"Your wish is my command," Gerry answers. He bites the inside of his wrist and presses it to Jonny's lips. For some reason, it always hurts more when a human drinks than a vampire. Gerry doesn't know why, but he doesn't care.

If asked, he couldn't pinpoint the exact moment he became addicted to the blood, the taste of his vampire lover. All Jonny knows is that he needs it, and as each day passes he wants it more. He locks his mouth on the wound, sucking and pulling it together with his teeth to draw even more blood, biting at the flesh.

When Gerry thinks Jonny's had enough, he pulls his wrist back. If he watched for more than a few minutes, he could see the skin heal around the cut. But there's no time, and it's something he's watched enough times. Gerry pulls Jonny to his feet and, with the rest of his family, walks into the dining room.

Jonny's still unsteady walking from the great room into the dining hall, and there are more faces he doesn't know. He's leaning on Gerry, his arm wrapped around his lover's waist. He tries not to think ahead, to being dessert, but his mouth is still damp from Gerry's blood and it's searing through his veins.

Sean's standing at the table's head. "Bring him here, Gerry, sit him down. The boy looks as if he's going to faint."

Marton and Harry are already at the table, heads locked together in conversation, Keanu draped over Marton's arm.

Gerry helps Jonny into a seat on the left side of the table and then sits down next to him. Dom is sitting across from them both and he nudges Patrick. "The human looks half dead already. Whatcha do, Ger, have an accident on the way here?"

Patrick looks over the assortment of bites. "An accident named Colin, perhaps?"

"Colin," he murmurs. "Yeah."

"Gerry, really, you let Colin at him," Marton says, turning around, shaking his head.

"There's still some left for you, Uncle," Gerry smirks. "But he's dessert."

Marton snorts, pulls Keanu down into the chair and tilts his head back. "Then I'll have a small appetizer," he says, biting into the young vampire's throat, sucking greedily.

Keanu nuzzles Marton. The angle is just good enough that he could bite down, but he doesn't. He knows better than that.

"The one being bitten is Keanu," Gerry tells Jonny. "One biting him is Marton. One sitting next to Marton is Harry. And the two humorists are Dominic and Patrick."

"Marton biting Keanu," Jonny says, reiterating the lineup for himself, even managing to get the younger one's name pronounced correctly. He's slowly coming back to himself, Gerry's blood working its magic in body and brain. "Marton's one of the four, and Harry's your biological uncle. Dominic and Patrick are your brothers," he says, smiling that he's recalling it all. "Patrick's the older of the two."

Harry laughs at listening to the recitation. "What'd you do, Gerry? Give him a history lesson? He learn all the children?" He picks up his wine glass and drinks slowly, leaning over to Peter, who has sat down on his other side.

"I think he did, Harry," Peter says. "Prepped him before they got here so he wouldn't be like the last dinner guest we had. You recall, that trollop Curt brought up here. Couldn't get us straight no matter what he did."

"Arthur," Harry recalled. "But he had other talents that were just as useful as knowing who's who." He dips a finger in the wine and traces Peter's lips with it. "Does your human have those talents, Gerry?"

Gerry has no idea which trollop of Curt's they're talking about. There've been far too many of them "Doubtful," he says. "But he has other talents that I'm sure you'll enjoy."

"I'm quite multitalented," Jonny says quietly, with just the edge of smirk as he plays with his cutlery, rearranging it on the napkin. "Gerry seems to find uses for me."

Sean laughs at the exchange and pulls Stuart down into his lap as Jamie comes up with the first course. "I imagine my son would, Jonny. He's rather imaginative."

As Jamie sets the food down, the other members of the family finally decide to sit down. Gerry lists them under his breath for Jonny. "Crag, David, Karl. David'll be on his knees in a moment, so don't start wondering where he went. Hugo's in James' lap. Seems Tony didn't bother. And that's Daragh behind Jamie." He looks around. "Are you feeling better now?"

Jonny stares as Gerry rattles off the names. David. On knees. Must be human. "Feel a bit better, Gerry," he says in a whisper. "Should I be on my knees? Is it expected of your humans?" He smiles at James, who's tilts his head and winks at Jonny.

"No, you're dessert, not dinner. You'll be on your knees much later." For dessert, he'll probably be propped up on the table with a swarm of vampires on top of him. But Gerry sees no reason to tell Jonny too much. Let some of it be a surprise.

"Okay. I can wait." Jonny's trying not to think that far ahead, not to pay any attention to how hard his cock is getting just from the various pairings around the table. Or the way James keeps glancing at him. "Gerry, who does he belong to?"

Gerry follows Jonny's gaze and glares at James. James gives as good as he gets. Without breaking eye contact, Gerry replies. "James. Peter's son. A couple decades older than me, so he thinks he can boss me around."

"He looks like he wants to devour me, more than Colin even." Jonny looks down, then back up, and James is still staring, casually kissing Hugo's cheek as he does.

"Probably does." Gerry wraps his arm around Jonny's shoulders. "But not as much as I do."

James looks politely shocked at this and applauds. "Romantic, Gerry. How inspiring."

"Take note, James," Hugo admonishes his elder, smirk intact. "You were romantic once. Could be again."

"S'not romantic. It's being possessive," Marton says, mouth still dripping with Keanu's blood. "He's asserting his rights over the human. Might be willing to share him over dinner, but wants to make bloody sure we know who the boy belongs to."

Jonny Lee leans his head against Gerard's arm. He knows exactly who he belongs to. The vampire holding him. And nothing's going to change that, no matter how many of the family at the table shares him tonight.

James tightens his grip on Hugo's thigh. "What would you know about it, whelp? You're not even a century." He nods over at Marton. "Marton's right. It's possession. It'll never be more than that. But Gerry, Gerry likes to-"

"Kick you in the balls?"

"-pretend he cares about his humans," James finished. "Unlike the rest of us."

"You don't care about your humans? Or you don't pretend?" Jonny blurts out the questions without thinking, almost defensive of Gerry in the wake of James's verbal attack. He doesn't stop to think about Gerry's caring for him being pretense and not real.

"Both," James replies. "I don't care about them any more than you care about the beer bottle. And my humans know that they are nothing to me."

"James is very honest with his emotions," Peter says from across the table, "and his words. He comes by it naturally."

"Which is Peter's fatherly way of saying his son is a fuckin' bastard," Sean adds, tugging on Jamie's arm as he passes around the table with the main course. "Not all of us are quite that callous about humans, even though they are our sustenance."

James rolls his eyes. "It's hypocritical, that's what it is. Da likes to say that it's not his fault I'm like this but he isn't so different." He turns to look directly at Peter. "Remember what you did to that girl in Scotland back when you were still marauding? Because I do."

"Different time and place, James," Peter says wistfully. "There wasn't the need to blend with humans that there is now."

Marton laughs. "We were the horsemen, James," he says, "your father, Sean, Daragh and I. We operated on different principles. Don't equate it with today."

Jonny wants to ask, know more, but he's almost positive it would be a breach of etiquette, and from what Gerry's told him, he's not sure the stories would be proper dinner conversation. He's squirming without realizing it, fidgeting with his fork.

"James does have a point," Patrick says, twirling his fingers in Dom's hair. "He's the only one of us who hasn't changed with the times. You could say that he's the least hypocritical of us."

"Or the most out-dated." Gerry frowns. He isn't sure he likes what this conversation is doing to Jonny. He'd wanted his human to be relaxed and be at ease instead of tense and fidgeting.

The conversation definitely has Jonny on edge, as much from arousal as nervousness. He's wanting to crawl into Gerry's lap, drop into as subservient a headspace as he can get, be Gerry's human.

Daragh walks around the table, having listened and not said anything, and leans down over between Jonny and Gerry. He glares at James. "Hypocrisy has its place," he says, "and knowing when to change keeps us alive." He places his hand on Jonny's shoulder. "Best not pay attention to the boys. They'll frighten you just for fun. Listen to Gerry. He's a good one, won't lead you any farther astray than you wanna be."

Gerry flashes a smile at Daragh. Thank you. Daragh's always been the voice of reason around here. Well, when he's not telling Colin to crawl like the dog he is. "Daragh's right," he tells Jonny. "Some of us have changed with the times. I'm not the man I used to be."

"Wouldn't matter," Jonny says, blushing. "I want you no matter what kind of man you are." He leans closer, lowers his voice. "Would it bother you to know all this turns me on, the medieval quality of your family."

Gerry blinks. "No," he says, too shocked to be anything but honest. "It wouldn't. But it would be unexpected."

Jonny's blushing intensely, red creeping over every inch of exposed flesh, and he pushes his chair back, slides out of it and onto his knees. It seems right. He lays his head on Gerry's knee.

Daragh nudges Gerry's shoulder. "Got you a proper one here, Gerry. Finally done well." He reaches across and grabs a free wine glass, raising it up. "I call for a toast. In honor of our new human, who just admitted he likes us."

Gerry pats Jonny's head with one hand and lifts his glass with the other. "To still being seductive, after all these years."

Daragh coughs. "To Jonny."

"To Jonny," everyone says, and drinks.