Autumn Pt. 01 Ch. 07

Was he really giving that speech? So much had changed, all because of three little words.

"I know, I know," Jack said, swatting the comment away.

Meaning that the guy knew what he had to do but couldn't bring himself to do it.

"It's just that he's always there," Jack said, proving Frank wrong. "If I could just get her alone for one night, I know everything would change." His pale cheeks colored. "I could finally put all the tricks I've been reading about into practice." He raised a finger to prevent any interruption. "Yes, I've done research on how to please a woman, and how our unique talents factor into that, but if you of all people play the geek card on me, I swear I'll...."

"Relax, dude," Frank said with a smile. "You're not the only one."

"Yeah?"

Looking over at the shelves, where he found only walkthroughs, dungeon master's guides, and player's handbooks, Frank asked, "You guys have a mysteriously complete library somewhere around here? Perhaps a few of them, each filled with books you had no idea existed, covering topics you'd never have thought to research back in that other world?"

"Yeah, this place is a bibliophile's dream come true." Jack took a sip of stout then added, "Having your own brewery is pretty freaking sweet too, but I did major in English."

That made Frank wonder how long it would be before their educational backgrounds and interrupted career paths no longer defined them. Would they always? There were so many things about the old world that they could have left behind yet hadn't. From Liz's love of Shakespeare to his mother's gender attitudes, to say nothing of Harveston's retail shopping and strangely conventional nightlife, the Court and its denizens were largely a reflection of a world that hadn't been real to begin with, at least not for most of them.

He suddenly realized he had no idea whether Noreen had even gone to college. Frank used to think that women of her generation hadn't been afforded that opportunity but knew now that they were more or less of the same generation, for all the sense that made.

What could he reveal to Kaitlin that she didn't already know? His grandmothers probably understood each other better than he ever would either one of them.

"I could tell my dad that my week's almost up and I feel like we haven't spent enough time together. He and I can go out for a few beers and you can do what you need to do."

"Be sure to tell him that you've got nothing against his mad brewing skillz, or he might take that the wrong way," Jack told Frank with a barely suppressed grin.

He'd almost forgotten that his cousin talked that way, but would be sure to remember after returning to Orwin Manor. Liz would sooner eat hot coals than besmirch her beloved English language the way Jack just had and claimed that her English degree did not allow any more flexibility than she already exhibited. Frank would have to call her out on that.

"That takes care of Gus, and Adam's always with Dylan," he said. "What about Mark?"

Jack shrugged. "I'll just tell him the truth. He won't mind hanging back."

"No?"

"It's different with brothers. We know how to share."

Well, some brothers did.

That really wasn't fair to Dom, though, was it? Frank had spent a lot of time being jealous of his brother, but that had never really been his fault. He'd occasionally rubbed Frank's face in it but had also played matchmaker and relationship coach.

"I'd ask what you know about the history of our Court, the current state of things, and all that jazz," his cousin said as he reached for his controller once more, ready to continue the rampage. "That might sound like I'm interrogating you, though."

"It's all good. I know you're not on the government payroll."

Jack snorted. Then sniped him but good, again.

"For fuck's sake," Frank said, polishing off his beer. "You're too good at this game."

"Sorry, man."

After clapping his cousin on the back, Frank told him what little he knew—except for the bit about the Tuvalos. Jack might not be a spy but some risks weren't worth taking.

"I don't know much more than that myself," Jack said after he finished.

"Any idea why your grandmother accepted a proposal from mine? My understanding is that you guys always win a runoff seat anyway. Why let House Orwin have four kids?"

Jack shrugged. "I think my mom just really wanted a big family."

Brow furrowed, Frank said, "Gotta be more to it than that."

"Does there?"

Frank gave his cousin a flat stare.

"She's not a monster," Jack replied. Then he finished his own glass and refilled both. "If you ask me, there's no force greater than love of family."

It wasn't hard to believe that Jack felt that way. It was Kaitlin he was worried about. There was no point grilling his cousin any further, though.

"Fuck politics," Frank said, raising his glass.

"With a giant dildo," Jack added, causing them both to laugh.

#

A bronze statue of a man astride a horse with fiery hooves dominated the plaza. The saber held high with one hand was less menacing than the hollowed-out pumpkin in the other, thanks to its wicked grin and the tongues of flame where its eyes should have been.

"This is the place," Gus said. "The Headless Horseman."

"Charming," Frank said.

"Check our libraries for The Legend of Sleepy Hollow after we get back," his father told him with a clap on the back. "You'll love it." He frowned and added, "You guys probably have a copy too. I didn't mean to make it sound like our collection is better than yours."

"You didn't," Frank assured his father.

"I'm really glad you suggested this," Gus said, opening the door for him.

"Me too," Frank replied, feeling some guilt over the real reason he'd done so. His father's eyes had lit up, and he almost seemed nervous now that they'd gotten into town. Like it was his one and only chance to reconnect with his son and he didn't want to blow it.

The lighting inside The Headless Horseman was terrible. Someone had decided that it was really clever and atmospheric to use iron lanterns shaped like hollowed-out pumpkins, and to not supplement them with any other source save for a roaring hearth at the far end of the dining hall that did them no good as their booth was near the middle.

Right across from the stage, in fact, where sound equipment promised live entertainment later in the evening. That meant Frank would have tap into his dwindling Libido if he wanted to hear a word his father said, which was only so awesome.

Still, it was nice to spend some time together.

Besides, what the place lacked in atmosphere it made up for with its menu. Frank wasn't as traditionalist as his mother, culinarily speaking, but he was generally closer to that end of the spectrum, so the unconventional offerings made him a little nervous. The descriptions were pretty enticing, though. All the apples came from Orwin Orchards, too, according to the sourcing info on the back. That was less likely to impress anyone, or even be noticed, than House Farrier's overrepresentation on the drink list, but it pleased Frank.

"What are you having?" Gus asked after they'd had a few minutes to decide.

"The, um, pork chops and apple chutney," Frank said. He wasn't entirely sure what chutney was, and had never tried spaghetti squash, but what the heck. "You?"

"Gotta go with steak frites," his father said, because what was manlier than steak?

"You see that comes with pumpkin fries?" Frank asked. As he'd once known him, his father wasn't terribly willing to try anything that hadn't existed in the fifties. Maybe that was all part of the disguise, though. Cindy's cooking ran towards nouvelle and fusion, and the praise Gus heaped on it every night sure sounded genuine.

"Haven't you realized how versatile our favorite gourd is?" his father replied. "Once you've been here a bit longer, you'll wonder why anyone ever used potatoes."

That made Frank feel small-minded. He was a fan of pumpkin beer, pumpkin fudge, pumpkin spice coffee, and all manner of things that would people mocked back in their echo of the mortal world. Why not fries as well? Even if the did come from the Goldstein patch.

The scarecrow came, took their order, then ambled away. Their drinks arrived in short order but the food took longer. By the time that arrived, none of the booths were empty.

"This place is popular," Frank said. "How come I never heard of it?"

"I doubt Ellen would like it," his father offered by way of explanation.

"When I go out to eat, it's usually with Liz."

Frowning, Gus said, "We've gotta do something about that."

"It's fine," Frank told his father as he cut into a pork chop. The first bite was so tender and flavorful that it nearly gave him an orgasm. "I appreciate the thought, though."

The steak had a similar effect on Gus. The sounds passing through his lips almost made Frank uncomfortable yet amused him at the same time. "When did you give up on her?"

"I haven't," Frank said. "Her father hasn't figured out that he's been replaced yet, though. Until she's ready to break the news to him, we've gotta keep it on the down low."

He'd almost said something about how Liz needing company in Bobby's absence but had realized how much that might give away. Officially, there was no reason for him to be gone.

"I see," his father said. "How's your food?"

"The spaghetti squash is meh, but the rest is amazing."

"See why I wanted to bring you here?" Gus asked with a triumphant grin.

"Never doubted your judgment," Frank replied.

Shortly after the scarecrow cleared their plates, though, he realized that Gus had picked The Headless Horseman for another reason. Sure, it would have been a good choice anyway, but the brother-sister duo that took the stage consisted of Adam and Dylan Farrier.

"Hey, Uncle Gus!" Dylan said, waving. She forgot to say hi to Frank before starting in on the mic check, though, which was only so surprising seeing as that would have doubled the amount of words she'd spoken to Frank since he'd arrived at the Farrier Estate.

He leaned across the table. "Did you know they were playing tonight?"

"I might have," his father allowed.

Frank shook his head, polished off another pint, then hailed their scarecrow.

"Don't worry, they're good," Gus said, pretending not to have noticed the treachery in his selection. "I'm not just saying that because they're my niece and nephew."

Shifting a little on the booth so that he could take in his father as well his cousins without having to turn his head constantly, Frank looked the performers up and down.

They looked the part, he had to give them that. From Adam's man bun, bushy beard, and black-on-black ensemble to Dylan's naughty schoolgirl outfit, they were indistinguishable from the musical acts Frank used to see in dive bars when he was an undergrad.

When last seen he'd seen Dylan in the mortal world, she'd been fourteen years old. She and Adam were hardly ever seen around the Farrier Estate, so Frank hadn't gotten a good look at her in the past week either. He'd assumed that was because they were always fucking, but apparently jam sessions were squeezed in there as well. Whatever the reason, he was seeing her now, and he couldn't deny that she looked pretty damn good. For a Farrier.

There were more shades of blonde in her shoulder-length hair than in a drug store's beauty aisle, as well as a streak as red as her lips. That sort of thing didn't usually impress Frank, but his cousin pulled it off. He loved how that one lock hung in front of her eye.

Her facial structure was similar to Cindy's, making her more cute than pretty. Her lips were fuller, though, her complexion fairer, and her eyes as big as an anime character's. They were brown, too, unlike those of her mother and all three brothers, and surrounded by not-makeup. All of that worked in her favor. Heavily. She wasn't Brianna-level gorgeous, but Frank had to admit that Dylan was at least as pretty as any other Orwin.

Shit, the girl even had a nice body. She was thin, but not too thin, and surprisingly busty. Her waist looked as narrow as Brianna's, yet she had serious hips, and while the push-up bra she wore under a white blouse that was only half-buttoned helped, Frank was willing to bet that she was at least as stacked as Liz. That was all the more impressive because Dylan had to weigh a good ten pounds less than his aunt. Her skirt was low on her hips, allowing lacy red panties to peek out above. They were the same shade as the blood rushing between his legs, matching her bra, her lips, and that one lock of hair. Oh, and her combat boots, which was more quirky than sexy but why not. The white knee-high socks were pretty hot, though. Her legs weren't quite as shapely as her mother's, but there was definitely something to them. Frank was willing to bet that Dylan had a decent ass. Maybe not as big and round as he preferred, but he could work with that.

What turned him on more than anything, though, was the look she was giving him.

Bedroom eyes didn't begin to cover it. The tilt of her head, the set of her brow, and the curvature of her matte lips all underscored the intensity of her gaze. Without speaking a word, his cousin promised to do filthy things to him, and let him do worse to her.

Only that was an empty promise, one Dylan made to just about every guy in there before she and her brother finished their first set. Even the lyrics she belted out, with a shockingly powerful if high-pitched voice, lied to them. Not that anyone seemed to care. Guys from major houses and minor alike asked her to marry them—when they weren't demanding that she show her tits, that was. Whether their reactions were vulgar or not, though, hardly a man in there was less than captivated by his cousin. Frank couldn't blame them, either.

"So, what'd you think?" Gus asked after the duo announced they'd be back in twenty.

"You were right," Frank said. "Again."

Dylan hopped down from the stage then strode over to them. "Say that again," she told Frank after parking her rear beside his—without giving him a chance to look at it. Something told him Dylan could tear up a dance floor when she wanted to, but she didn't shake a thing while singing. There was no need for her to when her voice and her eyes were enough to hypnotize the crowd. "I love hearing how awesome I am."

Adam chuckled into the pint glass he'd swiped from Gus.

"You guys kicked ass," Frank said. "I'm impressed."

"So you expected us to suck?" Dylan asked.

"Naturally," Frank replied. "Most bands do."

Without warning, his cousin grabbed his hard-on through the fabric of his jeans. "I'd say you enjoyed the performance." Instinctively, Frank jerked away. That only made the girl laugh. "Is that a cock or did you shove a rocks glass down your pants?" She turned to Adam. "Dude, this thing's thick." Her eyes slid over to his father. "Even fatter than yours, Uncle Gus. By a good margin." Finally, her brown beauties returned to Frank. "Please tell me you don't fuck girls in the ass with this thing. I think I'd die."

She still hadn't let go, though.

Clearing his throat, Frank said, "Why did no one tell me that if I wanted you to talk to me, all I had to do was come hear you sing?" He stared an accusation at his father, then the other cousin who'd spoken hardly a word to him while they'd slept under the same roof.

Neither replied. They were too amused.

"So you wanted me to talk to you?" Dylan asked, staring up at him through the thickest set of eyelashes he'd ever seen. Who told her blondes were allowed to be that pretty?

After taking a sip of his beer, Frank said, "I get that being a firecracker is part of your act, but you're not on stage anymore." He held her gaze for a moment, reveling in the shock he'd caused—even though it caused her hand to fall away. Frank was a little surprised himself, honestly. Not so long ago, a girl as hot as Dylan would have left him tongue-tied. That was back before his mother had confessed that she felt the same way about him, though. "The sparkles and explosions were nice touch, though."

"I'm going to get a drink," she announced. "Adam, you want anything?"

"Nah, I'm good," her brother replied.

She didn't come back after that. Frank wasn't sure whether that was because she'd never meant to or because her fans had surrounded her at the bar, but either way, he didn't even see her again til they took the stage for the second half of their performance.

In the meantime, he had a vacuous if pleasant conversation with his other cousin. Adam was a nice kid, but his interests didn't seem to go much past music and beer—and Dylan. Their blend of punk and pop wasn't exactly Frank's style, either. He could appreciate their talent, and Dylan's stage presence, but he hadn't recognized a single band that Adam named as an influence. That made him feel old and hopelessly uncool. He was sort of glad when the guy went and picked up his guitar, leaving Frank alone with his father once more.

"Don't be surprised if she sneaks into your room later," Gus said as soon as Adam left.

"I'll keep the door cracked open."

#

It wasn't Dylan who came to him in the middle of the night, though, but Kaitlin.

To be fair, though, it was hard to tell them apart. The two looked like freaking twins. They didn't just have similar features, like Noreen and her two daughters. Dylan was almost an exact replica of her grandmother, only with a streak of red hair. She might have been a little curvier, he supposed, and cuter, but it was hard to say in the dark.

"Guess again," she'd said after he'd called her by the wrong name.

"Grandma?"

She'd tapped him on the nose at that.

"What are you doing here?"

At that point, she'd made the covers disappear and fished his cock out in record time. It took a little longer for her to get him hard, but not much. The next thing Frank had known, he was getting the sort of blowjob only Brianna had could give. Or so he'd thought.

No, that wasn't a fair comparison. His cousin didn't use her powers. She didn't need to. Kaitlin had a deft touch in that regard, so it was easy to think she'd skipped the flourishes as well, but even his cousin couldn't make him feel that good without a little magic.

Brie had never stopped in the middle like that, though. Paused to tease him a little, sure, but that was different. His grandmother dismounted abruptly and then stared at him. Amber light bathed Frank's torso and nearly blinded him. "What is she up to?"

"Huh?" Frank replied, shielding his eyes.

"Your grandmother."

"You're my grandmother."

She smiled at him languidly. "Don't be coy."

"I don't know."

By way of response, Kaitlin resumed sucking him off. Slowly, inexorably, she pushed him to the brink. Frank wasn't sure he'd ever be able to unclench his butt cheeks, or his jaw, again. The tension she built inside him was unlike anything he'd ever experienced.

Not necessarily in a good way, either.

Or maybe it was. Frank wasn't even sure. Until he got that sweet release, he'd say she was torturing him. Afterwards, he might crown a new queen of fellatio, but it wasn't clear that she was going to let him finish. At least not until he told her what she wanted to know.

Which Frank couldn't do.

"What's she up to?" Kaitlin repeated after letting him slip from her mouth again.

"I don't know," Frank repeated.

Round and round they went, neither bothering to even change their wording. Every time she stopped just shattering his Libido into a million little pieces, Kaitlin asked what Noreen was up to. Frank would then tell her that he didn't know, which was closer to true than she could possibly realize, and whimper as she started the interrogation over from the top.