fic - Fright Night - Jerry/Peter - and Peter/surprise guest- Snacker

[tenner54]

Snacker

 

 

So the little bastard had chosen to hide in plain sight. Not a bad move, actually. Not bad at all. It had taken Jerry a while to get this close to him, but he finally had managed it. It was the reason he had relocated here after all.

Jerry smiled, watching Peter walk in a half-swagger, half-stagger from the cab to the private entrance leading to his penthouse suite. He smelled Midori and some nice, spicy aftershave, but under that lay the smell of Peter Vincent himself, dragging Jerry's memories back to a deserted street in Edinburgh where a man and a woman lay dead and a slim, doe eyed boy curled in on himself in abject terror.

He was a slim, doe eyed man now. But just as pretty, just as tempting as he had ever been. More so, really. Just look at the ass clad in those tight black trousers. Such an endearing little wiggle in the drunken walk. Such a tight little belly, long, graceful limbs, and neck that screamed for Jerry's special brand of attention. And then there was that mouth with its sweet, pouty bottom lip. Oh, the things he could to that mouth.

Jerry, at times like these, was very glad he sometimes practiced catch and release. Maybe some day Jerry would take him, make him his own. But for now? Oh, just a little taste. Just to tease himself. He'd get to Peter. Easy as shooting fish in a barrel, really. After all, he had already charmed the woman Peter lived with, the luscious little Ginger. All he needed to do was tell her when to put the pills in Peter's Midori and Jerry could have a little fun.

 

 

 

He took another pull at his tumbler, rolling the liqueur around his mouth with his tongue. He swallowed it along with his fear and bitterness and never-ending loneliness.  Reaching into the pocket of his robe for the bottle, he gave himself yet another refill. He hardly ever bothered to get up and go to the bar any more. Easier just to keep the bottle on him. Pulling the bottle out, he saw he was down to dregs. He sighed and half-stumbled to the bar. Where was it?

 

“Ginger!” he bellowed. “Where is the fucking Midori?”

 

“I’m coming!” she screamed back. “I swear to God I’ve never met anyone so fucking helpless as you!”

 

She pushed a button on her phone. Right. It was time. She went to the kitchen and fetched a fresh bottle, swished into the living room. She spotted his glass and “accidentally” knocked it to the floor with a curse.

 

“Clumsy cow!” Peter groused.

 

“Shut up, bitch, I’ll get you another!” Going to the kitchen, she got a fresh tumbler and a new bottle. Reaching into the pocket of her robe, she took a capsule out of a bottle, opened it and dumped the contents into the bottom of the glass. She went to the bar, broke the seal on the green bottle and poured a generous amount over the powder, surreptitiously stirred it with a finger, added ice and took it to him. “Here. Enjoy. Goddamned drunk.”

 

“Fuck you,” Peter snapped back.

 

“Like you can, fucking sot. What can’t get up can’t get out.”

 

Easy enough. Jerry had told her just what to do: pour out most of the contents of his open bottle behind his back, wait until he yelled for a new one, then dose him. Seeing his bottle almost empty she had gone to the bedroom to call Jerry and let him know it was almost time.

 

He was a magnificent lover, this Jerry Dandridge. Cold…yeah…but magnificent. Had a way of somehow getting into your head. And he was never too drunk to fuck. Less than an hour later she crept into the living room to see how it was going. Peter wasn’t out cold. Jerry didn’t want him unconscious, just totally skullfucked.

 

Peter was skullfucked.

 

She took out her phone and made that call.

 

 

 

 

Dust settled. Smoke cleared. Jerry dead.

 

That was when the memories came back.

 

‎"Don't do anything I wouldn't do! Actually that doesn't really narrow it down,” Peter quipped “Just mini-golf and...sushi. Bye!"

 

He left Charley and Amy in his penthouse fucking like weasels and found himself a little dive on a back street; somewhere people generally left you to your own devices. All the way in the back in an over-sized booth, he huddled into the corner and leaned back tiredly. He hadn’t been sleeping. On his fourth drink now, he flicked his eyes across the room, still all nerves in spite of It All Being Over because he couldn’t get the memories out of his head.

 

The memories had awakened when Jerry bit him in the basement. He could still hear the amusement in the vampire’s voice. “Look at you, all grown up.” Something clicked then…almost as if he had used that phrase like a switch. Yes. That’s what he had done, implanted the memory of him saying those same words, burying them in Peter’s subconscious. Once spoken, the memories flooded back…

 

Where was he? Oh. In his bed. His nice, enormous, comfy bed. He wanted to get up but his limbs felt heavy, uncoordinated. Jesus, he was fucked up. But he hadn’t drunk all that much, there were plenty of times he’d downed more Midori, much more, and not been this fucked up. He felt someone touch his cheek.

 

 

 

“Look at you, all grown up. And still as pretty as a girl.”

 

 

 

He froze then like a frightened rabbit, knew the voice before he ever turned to see the face. Oh, God. Oh, fuck. Oh, no.

 

 

 

It was him. The one who had killed his parents and stood gloating over him.

 

 

 

The vampire gave him a cold smile. “Oh, but you do remember. And what did I tell you all those years ago?”

 

 

 

Peter swallowed. He wanted to scream, wanted to thrash out. He tried to move, dragging himself across the bed. The vampire let him get to the edge of the mattress before snagging an ankle and pulling him close.

 

 

 

“I asked you a question. What did I tell you all those years ago? Answer me!”

 

 

 

Peter opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Jerry grasped his face, pulled him close, literally cheek to cheek. His breath smelled like a charnel-house.

 

 

 

“I said,” Jerry growled softly, “What did I say to you? Answer me!”

 

 

 

“You…said you’d be back. Later. To collect me. For a snack.” He was shaking now in spite of being so fucked up. Drenched in cold sweat, he heard himself whimper, as if it were someone else. “Please. Please. Don’t kill me. Please, oh God, please don’t kill me.”

 

 

 

“What makes you think you’re that lucky, pretty pet? I’m not going to kill you. I’m going to turn you. And then you’ll be mine. My little plaything.”

 

 

 

“No. No!” He struggled. Jerry let him go, let him drag himself once more to the edge of the mattress before again snagging his ankle and pulling him back.

 

 

 

This time an arm like an iron band closed around his waist. A hand went to the tie of his robe, loosening it before sliding down and around to cup his ass. “Oh,” Jerry rasped in his ear. “I’m not turning you just yet. Tonight I just want to have a little fun. Get a taste of what’s to come.” Jerry’s tongue slid out and licked an icy, slimy path down his throat, pausing at the Adam’s apple to suckle, but not biting. Just gently scraping, scraping, his mouth working it’s way to the side of Peter’s neck. His lips were at Peter’s ear, now. “Oh, but you are tasty. Just like your Mom.” The icy hand squeezed Peter’s ass. “And your ripe little ass.” The cold fingers slid beneath the band of Peter’s boxers. “Oh, how soft and sweet your skin is. Just like Mommy’s. Only with a little fuzz.”

 

 

 

“Please,” Peter moaned. “Please, don’t, just stop, I’ll do anything…”

 

 

 

“You certainly will,” Jerry purred. “Once you’re turned, I’ll have you begging for it. Until then, bitch, it’s your fear I’m after. Do you have any idea what an appetizer fear is for me? And like I said, you are tasty. Let’s just say I’m working up an appetite.”

 

 

 

Peter felt a cold finger at his entrance pushing, dry and merciless, inside him. His fear had made him tighten up and between that, the dryness and the iciness, it hurt, cramped. He felt tears coursing down his face. Jerry lapped them up with a shuddering moan.

 

 

 

“When I turn you I’m gong to fuck you. Every night. Every night for eternity. You’ll be mine. My toy. And you’ll make such wonderful bait for our victims, pretty thing like you. I’ll have your life, your money. The tabloids will report you’re out of the closet and living with me. Think of all the little groupies I’ll have fun with. Of course it’ll come to an end and we’ll have to go into hiding. The cattle don’t like it when we make a habit of dining on them. Of course by that time, I’ll have quite a little army to protect us, thanks to you and all your little sycophants and fans.”

 

 

 

“Please, I’m begging you, let me go, please!” Peter choked.

 

 

 

And Jerry let him go. Once more Peter tried to escape. Once more he was caught. Once more pulled close. But this time Jerry turned him face down, snatching off his robe and pulling down his boxers. And then Jerry was on him and in him and it was cold, so cold and it hurt. Peter sobbed wordlessly.

 

 

 

Was this how it was going to be? Forever? “Let me die’, he whimpered. “Please, God, not this, let me die.”

 

 

 

Jerry grunted, thrusting brutally into him. He growled as he filled Peter with what felt like ice water. He flipped Peter over, gripping his face and covering Peter’s mouth with his own, filling Peters mouth with the taste of meat long gone over. He pulled away. “You aren’t that lucky. You’re mine. But not yet. And this has been fun, but now I’m going to make you forget. When you wake up you’ll think you had a nightmare. And as for any soreness…well, your little friend Ginger is going to tell you that the pair of you had a little fun with a dildo. She’s mine, too, you know. Only I’m not keeping her. She’s food. For my army. So enjoy her while you can.”

 

 

He placed his fingers on either side of Peter’s skull, the fingers digging painfully into his flesh. Vampire eyes bored into his thoughts, clawing and grasping in Peter’s burning psyche. Everything faded into blotches of red, gray and black. And with that he was gone.

 

Peter had awakened the next day around noon with Ginger lying naked beside him and a dildo between them and he’d written it all off as an alcohol-induced nightmare.

 

That was the tipping point. He’d identified the type of vampire Charley had described, probably wouldn’t have bothered if not for that nightmare. Everything had happened so quickly after that. Now it was over…except for the nightmare that haunted him now, whether waking or sleeping. Tossing back his sixth drink, he laid his head on his arms as he slumped onto the table.

 

He woke to a hand on his shoulder, giving him a gentle shake.

 

“Hey, pal, mind if I join you? The barkeep isn’t looking too happy with you napping back here.”

 

Peter looked up. The man who had addressed him looked at him with blue eyes which seemed to have seen the wonders and horrors of the universe. Movie star good looks… and was that a World War II era greatcoat he was wearing? It was him. The one who had stood a ways off, close, but not too close, when he and Charley and Amy had slipped out of Jerry’s lair.

 

Peter scooted over in silent invitation to join him. “I’ve seen you,” he said. “You were standing down the street. When the shit hit the fan. After we took care of those….monsters. You knew. I don’t know how you knew, but you did. I could tell by the look on your face. You know about them, don’t you?”

 

“You may be a drunk but you aren’t a stupid one. Look, is there somewhere we can go and have a little chat? Too many prying ears and eyes here to suit me.” He gave Peter a smile that could have come from an advert for The World’s Best Toothpaste. The man exuded charm. Practically invented it. And there was something about him which engendered trust, a thing in short supply in Peter’s world. He found himself following this handsome stranger. “By the way, I’m Jack. Captain Jack Harkness. Call me Jack. Love the coat, by the way. And the guyliner. You remind me of a friend of mine. Sexy bastard, just like you. So where to? Your place?”

 

“Sure,” Peter replied. He wobbled a little and Jack put a steadying arm around his waist.

 

They’d gone to Peter’s penthouse…Charley and Amy had departed by then. Jack listened patiently to the whole story, from Peter’s childhood on. At one point Peter had found himself silently weeping, just relieved that it was over with now. Jack had held him gently, rubbing his back.

 

“Thing is,” Jack said, “it’s never really over. There are more out there. Now, my field of expertise is aliens. But we could really use someone like you, Peter. Someone who’s had first-hand experience and knowledge about vampires. We’re Torchwood. We answer to no one. Think it over, yeah? If you have any questions, I’ll be happy to answer them. In the meantime, though…have I told you that you have an excellent bottom?”

 

Peter stretched out in his nice, enormous, comfy, bed. No trace of nightmares lingered in this bed anymore. Instead, there was Jack; Jack with his large, tender hands, his gentle coaxing, his masterful lovemaking. He smiled. Yes, there were still vampires out there. But with Jack watching his back, Peter somehow felt he no longer had so much to fear.