OK, this is a follow-up of sorts to 'Element of Surprise.' I wish to
testify that I am not now, nor have I ever been, nor shall I become in
the future, a CERKPerk. All I can say in my defense is: it's all Cousin
Mary's fault! Permission to archive to the CERKPerk page, JADFE, and
www.fkfanfic.com. Comments to stormborn@prodigy.net.
Warning: er, well--explicit smut talk and masturbation? Part two will
have explicit m/m/f sex.
A Little Talk (01/02)
By Molly Schneider
Copyright 1999
OK, she was going to be cool with this. She was going to be as blase and
sophisticated as... well, that resolution worked fine in the precinct,
sitting across the desk from him going through their open case files
together. But here and now, cruising in the Caddy, she couldn't help
thinking: I had *sex* with Nick. Omigod. She folded her arms tightly
across her stomach. I had sex with him *and* another man! Omigod...
"Hmmn, Tracy?"
"Huh? Yeah, Nick?"
Her partner shot her a glance that was half-amused, half-concerned. "Are
you all right?"
"Who, me? Sure. I'm fine." They rode in silence for a little while,
then it just came out: "So. How long have you and LaCroix been a
couple?"
A brief moment of shocked silence, then Nick was laughing uncontrollably.
"Tracy," he gasped. "LaCroix and I are not--a *couple*--at least not in
the way a mortal would understand it. We--it's more complicated than
that."
"Oh." She could feel her face flushing with embarrassment.
"Look, Trace, I think we need to have a little talk. And you look like
you could use some coffee--how about it?"
"Yeah, I guess so..."
He wheeled the big boat up to the curb in front of the nearest coffee
joint. In a moment she was back with two huge steaming cups. Nick
looked at the cups, then back up at her. "Thanks, but you know I don't
drink--"
"Coffee. I know. They're both for me; I have a feeling I'll need them."
Moments later he was pulling into a secluded corner of the University
parking lot. "Nick?"
"Safe from hyper-sensitive eavesdroppers," he explained, then hastened to
reassure her when he saw her eyes widen. "I'm just being cautious; don't
worry. And if the college security guards notice us, they'll think
nothing of us sitting here having a cup of coffee and a talk."
Only now she was tongue-tied. She looked down at the cup in her hands.
"I know we agreed not to talk about it."
"Yeah, well--that's not really fair to you, is it? I'm sure, uh, being
intimate with two vampires isn't exactly part of your normal
experiences."
She laughed and shot a glance at him. He was looking at her with a mix
of amusement and concern. What a sweetie, she thought. A damned
fine-looking sweetie... in fact, a very *hot* fine-looking sweetie...
"Um. No. So if you and LaCroix aren't a 'couple,' what are you
exactly?"
"He's my master."
"Your *what*?!" she exclaimed, faced with sudden visions of Nick in
bondage gear.
"He made me what I am. Among vampires, generally, there's a bond between
a vampire and the one who made him or her. LaCroix is, in a sense, my
father. My mentor, my teacher, my companion. Didn't Vachon explain any
of this to you?"
"Not like that, exactly."
He thought about it, briefly. "Well, Vachon's case is different that the
usual, anyway. But when a vampire makes a 'child', or 'gets a fledgling'
as some put it, he teaches the new vampire... everything... about his new
life. How to survive, how to use his new senses and powers, how to hunt.
A master and his fledglings--a vampire family--often continue to live
together. LaCroix and I, and my vampire sister, lived together off and
on for centuries."
"Centuries? How long ago was this--how old are you, Nick?"
"I became a vampire in the year 1228."
She almost dropped her coffee. "1228? Nick, that's almost 800 years!"
He grinned. "I know."
"LaCroix," she said thoughtfully. "He said he was really old. If you're
800, how old is he?"
Nick hesitated. "It's not considered acceptable to speak of another
vampire's origins, Tracy."
"C'mon--how old?"
"He was a general in the Roman army. Is that close enough for you?"
"Well, it explains the haircut," she cracked. "Did you... were you and
he, um, intimate from the beginning?"
"There was an attraction there. I didn't understand what it was and
there was so much else going on... we became lovers, I guess you would
call it, about two years later. We were in Constantinople. Something
happened, something I did upset me and I went running home in a panic.
LaCroix--" he broke off, laughing softly at the memory.
"What? What did he do?"
"He dumped me in a hot bath, put me in a clean chemise, and tucked me in
bed."
"Chemise?"
"A sort of long linen shirt. It's what everyone wore under their clothes
then. Anyway, he was very comforting; soothing. The next thing I knew,
he was kissing me, and I was kissing him back."
"And that was that?"
"No. I've always been attracted to women, Tracy. I still am. It was
difficult for me to accept, that I let myself be intimate with another
man. It took a long time before I realized that being a vampire freed me
from that way of thinking. Lovemaking for us is different than it is for
mortals. Sharing blood--that's what sex is, for us. The rest of it is
just a build up to that."
She remembered Nick sucking LaCroix's cock, remembered him drawing his
fangs down the length of it, drawing blood... That's why LaCroix had held
him back, she realized, remembering Nick's eyes fixed on her throat. She
shivered.
Nick saw it. "Yes," he said. "That's why Natalie and I have never been
intimate. I doubt she'd agree to have LaCroix there, and I can't be sure
I'll be able to control myself with her."
He could have killed me, she thought. LaCroix, too. She turned her mind
firmly away from that.
"So you'd never done it with a guy before LaCroix?" she asked. "What was
he like?"
For a long time he stared out the windshield. "Gentle," he said finally,
then turned towards her. "But make no mistake, Tracy. He can be cruel,
more cruel than you'd believe possible, without giving it a second
thought. Human morality doesn't mean a fig to him."
LaCroix's image rose in her mind; cool and elegant in his black suit,
then naked, fanged and golden-eyed. "Okay," she said. "So I'm not to
mess with him."
"You're not to delude yourself into thinking that because you provided
amusement for him that you mean anything to him."
She popped the lid on her second cup. Lukewarm now, but still full of
caffeine. Was Nick just being jealous? No, it didn't sound like it.
"Warning taken," she said. "Can I ask a few questions?"
"Sure, go ahead."
"You said 'all the rest of it' was just a build up to the, um, blood
stuff. You seemed to be having a good time, though."
"Of course," he said, grinning. "Our senses are heightened beyond those
of mortals. It makes sex very enjoyable."
Tracy became very aware that she was sitting in a gorgeous example of
Detroit engineering with a gorgeous example of Mother Nature's
engineering. She stole a quick glance at those deep blue eyes, at that
soft mouth. He looked even better naked, she thought, and he'd felt so
good inside her. She thought again about Nick giving LaCroix head as he
fucked her...
"You sucked his cock," she said in a small voice. "He, um, fucked you."
"Yes." There was a roughness in his voice; Tracy looked up to see that
he'd turned his face away from her. Acting on instinct, she slid her
hand to his cheek and pulled him around to face her. There were only
flecks of blue floating in the gold, and there was a fullness about his
tightly clamped mouth. She rubbed her palm lightly across his cheek.
"Tracy..." he warned. She backed off.
"Okay, I won't touch you. But I'm not going to lie and say I don't want
to. That I don't want him."
"What about Vachon?"
"I love him," she said. "This is different." The same demon that had
possessed her to join Nick and LaCroix last night uncoiled within her.
She settled back against the door and took another sip of her coffee.
Deliberately she asked, "He put his fingers inside you first. Tell me
about that."
"It's what you do, with someone who's never done it before. To open them
up, make it easier. He did it the first time. He's always done it,
though I don't need it anymore."
"Why."
There was a tenseness in his voice. "To prove that he owns me, I guess.
That I'm his, and he can do what he pleases. Or maybe he still wants to
make it easier for me, I don't know."
"He owns you. You hate that, huh? But you like it, too, don't you?"
You must, she thought, or you'd never let him do any of it.
"Yesss."
"You licked them first, his fingers. Why?"
"Fucking me... with my own spit... I don't know. So I can never say he
raped me, I guess. He--" he clamped his mouth shut. She noted the bulge
in his trousers with satisfaction; it echoed the wetness in her own
crotch.
"He what?"
Whispered: "Uses his mouth, sometimes. His... tongue. He...puts it
inside me, licks me inside."
Holy cow, she thought, and shifted a little on the seat. "Do vampires
masturbate?"
"Sometimes." He said it as though he were ashamed.
"What do you use for blood when you do?"
"My own."
"Hmmn. He looks like he knows how to arouse you."
"Yesss..." The memories rose up in him, of those first nights in that
little house in Constantinople; the thick shutters closed tight against
the day, the muted hum of the mortals in the streets and courtyards,
LaCroix's hands on him... LaCroix's mouth...driving him mad with desire.
Mother of God, what was she doing? Was she insane?
He snarled at her. "Do you want me to masturbate for you, Tracy? Is
that it?"
She met his gaze without flinching. "I want you to fuck me. But this
will just have to do. Which do you like better, sucking him? Having him
suck you? Or getting fucked?"
He swore at her in a language she didn't understand and opened his jeans,
grabbing at his cock. She fought down the urge to slide across the seat
to him. "Tell me, Nick."
"His hands," he moaned, his head rolling on the seat back. "I--he--"
No, no. Focus, Nick, she thought, as her hand went to rub her clit
through her jeans. "What does he do?"
"Touches me... kisses me... his kisses..."
"Yes, I saw. Then what?"
"His tongue... inside me... God, so good, I can't stand it!" His hand
was stroking harder on his cock.
"And then he puts it in you? What does he feel like, Nick?"
"Like *him*. Strong, powerful, unyielding-- he, he-- I can't--"
"Does he jerk you off while he does it?"
"Yes... and his voice, in my ear, on my face..."
"What does he say?"
The words came out gasping. He was close, she knew, so close. "Mon
fils. Mon plaisir, mon desir. Mon amant, mon fils." A rush of words.
She didn't know French, but 'fils' she knew was 'son,' the others she
could figure out. Plaisir, pleasure; desir, desire. Her hand moved
faster, she was getting close herself.
"And then?"
"Want it, want it so bad... the blood, his blood..." His voice roared on
the last words and she gasped involuntarily as he bit into his wrist with
a frantic savagery--and then she was coming, watching him swallow his own
blood as his bloody come erupted over his fist.
And was sorry for it afterwards, as he curled against the car door,
moaning. "Nick?" She reached out to touch him but he shied away.
"Nick, do you need LaCroix?"
"He knows," he sobbed. "Don't you think he knows?"
She didn't understand what he meant, but some instinct told her to get
him to LaCroix. She jumped out and went over to the driver's side.
Opening the door she pushed him over to the passenger seat.
Standard disclaimers apply; archiving permission to the CERKPerks, JADFE,
and www.fkfanfic.com. Comments and virtual massages to
stormborn@prodigy.net
Warnings: explicit m/m/f sex. If the thought of any of these characters
'doing it' nauseates you--send me the number of a support group, willya?
I can't believe I'm writing this...
This turned into a three-parter. Sorry I'm late in posting this part; I
was under the weather.
A Little Talk (02/03)
By Molly Schneider
Copyright 1999
Fortunately, the Raven wasn't that far; unfortunately, Nick came around
about halfway there and cursing, tried to fight her for the wheel.
"Knock it off, Nick! You may be immortal, but I'm not!" It was hard
enough to steer this antiquated land yacht without having to arm-wrestle
the passenger.
"The last person I want to see right now is LaCroix!" he snarled at her.
"Why not?"
"Why? So he can laugh at me in that sneering tone of his; crow about how
I can't free myself from him?"
"Free yourself from him? What do you mean?" she asked, hoping the
conversation would distract him from causing a head-on collision.
He paused, and stopped grabbing at the wheel. Thank God, Tracy thought,
but his next words threw her for a loop. "I want to be mortal again."
"Huh? Why?"
"Why, why, why," he mimicked rather nastily. "Maybe I don't like being
evil, Tracy."
Evil. Well. That was an uncomfortable thought, wasn't it? Was Vachon
evil? Or Screed, funny little Screed? She thought of LaCroix, and
shivered, then took a look at Nick. Her partner. Her sweet, kind, funny
partner...
"You're not evil," she said firmly.
"Oh, I'm not? Do you have any ideas how many lives I've taken in 800
years?"
"OK," she shot back. "How many lives does a wolf take? Or a lion?"
"That's different, Tracy; they're animals."
Well, that was the stupidest thing she'd ever heard him say. "So are
*people*, dummy." She held up a hand to cut him off. "No, don't. I'm
not up to a philosophical discussion right now." Her foot tromped harder
on the gas pedal; she was beginning to have a lot of sympathy for
LaCroix, if he'd had to listen to this--this *whining*, she thought.
"All I can say, Nick, is you play the cards you're dealt."
"Hmmph." With that he settled into a moody silence, until they reached
the Raven. By instinct Tracy pulled into the alley; waiting at the back
door was LaCroix. And Nick, of course, refused to get out of the car.
"Nicholas." The cool voice cut through the night air. "Come inside,
Nicholas."
"Go to hell!" He shouted. "I don't need you! Why don't you leave me
alone!"
"In this instance, because I do not care to have my son screaming like a
fishwife outside my club. Now stop this, and come inside."
Muttering under his breath, Nick got out of the car, slamming the door
behind him. Tracy followed, wishing they'd never started their 'little
talk' in the first place. In silence LaCroix led them inside and up the
backstairs, into a small but elegantly furnished apartment. *His*
apartment, she realized, looking around at the polished wood, the leather
chairs, the books. Nick had thrown himself into a chair, knuckles
against his mouth, the perfect picture of Romantic brooding--or
adolescent sullenness, she couldn't decide which. She circled the room,
looking at everything but him.
"I'll ring downstairs and have them bring you up something, Detective
Vetter. What would you like?"
"Coffee," she said, automatically adding, "I'm on duty."
"No, you're not," he said smoothly. "I called the precinct. Yourself
and Detective Knight are following a lead and may not be back before
morning."
She started to ask how he did that, then realized he'd whammied the desk
into believing either she or Nick had called in. Great. She settled
instead for, "That was pretty high-handed of you, don't you think?"
He gave her a surprised look, ignoring Nick's derisive snort, and picked
up the phone. Moments later a knock on the door revealed a waitress
bearing a bottle of white wine. LaCroix poured gracefully, then brought
a glass of something red over to Nick. "I don't want it."
"Don't be stubborn, Nicholas, I'm all out of *cow*, I'm afraid. And you
need it."
Blood, thought Tracy. Human blood--and why wasn't she repulsed by that?
Why did she stare at it in fascination? Too many horror movies, she
decided, and took a drink of her own. Wow; whatever it was, it was
*good*.
"So, Detective Vetter--"
"Tracy."
"Tracy." He smiled briefly. "Allow me to summarize. You and Nicholas
began discussing the other night's experience; you became aroused, and
decided that arousing Nicholas might be amusing. Only it wasn't very
amusing for him, was it? And now you're here, and you've created a
difficult situation."
"What? Hey! This isn't my fault!"
"Oh? And my son isn't sitting there resenting me because you reminded
him of a desire that he still feels some shame over?"
"Stop picking on her, LaCroix. She didn't--it wasn't entirely her fault.
And it's not the desire I'm ashamed of, do you still not understand
that?"
The elder stalked over to Nick's chair, drawing his son's gaze with his
eyes. "Then what is it?" he asked softly.
The other took a deep gulp of his drink before answering reluctantly.
"Control. You always have control over me."
An eyebrow quirked upward. "We're not equals, Nicholas, is that what
disturbs you? Of course we're not. I'm older, stronger, more powerful.
I am your *father*. And even beyond all that, there is an essential
difference in our natures; you cannot control your own heart and I, as
you so often remind me, have none."
"Yes, you do." She'd blurted it out before thinking, when he turned those
pale eyes on her she hastened to explain. "I saw it. The way you kissed
him, the way you touched him. You were--tender. And later, when he
wanted to bite me, you--comforted him."
He dropped his gaze away from her, back to his son. One elegant hand ran
through the golden hair, stroked the pale cheek. "Yes," murmured Nick.
Something like a sob rose from him as he wrapped his arm around LaCroix's
waist and pulled him closer, burying his face in his master's shirt.
"Shh, shh. Hush, now, Nicholas; it's all right. I'm here."
"Yes. Always here." He raised his head. Tracy could see his eyes
glowing amber, and shifted uncomfortably. Apparently the scene in the
Caddy hadn't been quite enough for him... or for her, she realized.
Damn.
Once again she found herself pinioned by that ice-blue regard. "Do you
desire him, Tracy?"
"Yes," she whispered.
"And you desire me also, don't you?"
She swallowed. "Yes."
"Then come. Let us provide a little object lesson for Nicholas; a lesson
in desire, and the lack of shame." He pulled Nick to his feet and kissed
him. A moment's hesitation, and then Nick was throwing himself into the
kiss, urgently, his hands climbing up LaCroix's back.
"Damned suit," he gasped as he broke away.
A low chuckle was LaCroix's only response as he led them through into the
bedroom. As Nick started to peal off LaCroix's suitcoat Tracy told
herself that this time she wasn't going to stand by and watch; she went
up behind the older man and helped pull off his jacket. The tie dropped
to the floor; she moved around to help with his shirt buttons--"What the
heck are those?" she exclaimed.
"Um?" asked Nick, fingers busy. "Oh. Shirt studs. Haven't you ever
seen shirt studs before?"
"No." Fascinated, she bent closer to examine the tiny pins, like post
earrings, holding LaCroix's shirt together. Nick yanked the last one
loose with his teeth. "Here," he said, dumping them in her hand. "Don't
lose them; they're platinum." She deposited them carefully on the
dresser before turning back to the men. LaCroix looked mildly amused.
"Used to having people undress you?" she asked tartly.
The reply was smooth. "Yes, actually. Pity they outlawed slavery."
The heck with that, she thought, staring at his chest. Smooth and white
as a statue of a man... her hand reached out and she caught her breath at
the texture of his flesh. It was like polished stone; she couldn't stop
running her hand over the sculpted curves. Nick pulled LaCroix's
shirttails loose and licked his chest. Tracy drew in a shuddering breath
at the sight of his ripe tongue moving wetly across LaCroix's flesh, then
thought, room enough for two. Her own tongue explored the shelf of his
collarbone, then trailed across his pectoral to taste the delicate pink
nipple. A small sigh; a slight ripple in muscles still alive though cast
in marble. Nick, she noticed, was working on the other nipple, not quite
as gently. Emboldened, she sucked on it, hard, then harder. She felt
LaCroix's arms go around them both, then his hand cupped her head,
holding it to his chest as he said, "Nicholas..."
Nick dropped to his knees, removing LaCroix's shoes with impatient haste,
then reaching up to his belt. Tracy moved back a little to give him
room, and decided to finish with the shirt. She reached for LaCroix's
wrist. "Those are cufflinks," he told her helpfully.
Amazed, she laughed at him. "Has anyone ever spanked you?"
"Not since I was a small child," he told her, smiling a sharklike smile.
"Don't get any ideas."
She put the cufflinks with the shirt studs and turned back to pull off
the shirt, then paused at the sight of Nick rubbing his open mouth slowly
back and forth across the bulge in LaCroix's trousers while his own hand
rubbed the front of his jeans. "I think Nick needs a little help."
"Nicholas," LaCroix breathed, "knows exactly what he's doing." Just then
Nick's teeth closed on the tiny tab of his master's zipper, pulling it
down slowly. A quick yank brought the trousers down; LaCroix stepped out
of them neatly, then put a hand on Nick's head, holding him still. Never
taking his eyes from his kneeling son, he purred, "Now here is a lesson
for you, Tracy. You, in your youthful eagerness, would no doubt like to
see Nicholas finish what he's begun, right now. But patience brings
richer rewards." With one finger he traced the line of Nick's full lips;
Nick moaned, and seized the finger in his mouth, suckling it.
LaCroix let him, for a moment, then stooped and hooked his hands under
Nick's armpits, hauling him to his feet. With one hand he stripped off
the last of his clothing, a tiny scrap of black silk, then slowly circled
his son. "Beautiful," he murmured. Standing behind Nick, he turned him
slightly to face Tracy, then quickly pulled off his tshirt. "So
beautiful..."
Responding to the unspoken invitation she moved to spread her hands
across Nick's chest. A fine sprinkling of golden hair obscured the
smoothness of his skin; there was, she thought, a bit more resiliency
there then in LaCroix's flesh. She ran her hands down his sides as she
kissed and licked her way across his chest to suck on first one nipple,
then the other. A wicked idea took hold of her; she dropped to her knees
to repeat the earlier scene.
Button-fly jeans; no zipper. Probably just as well, she thought, as she
popped the buttons through their holes and pulled on the heavy denim.
She pulled his underwear away--black silk, she noticed, the same as
LaCroix's. Was that a vampire thing? As his freed cock commanded her
attention she noticed that LaCroix was pressing his own erection between
the curves of Nick's buttocks. And Nick, Nick was moaning helplessly,
his breath rasping between his dropped fangs. Whether from LaCroix's
cock, or whatever LaCroix's hands were doing on his bare back, she didn't
know.
But she had a beautiful cock in front of her and she licked wetly up the
shaft until she reached the incredible smoothness of the head, which was
already oozing pre-come. *Pink* pre-come. Blood, she thought, and
hesitated a bit before she licked it off. It didn't taste all that
strange. She closed her mouth around the ripe plum of his cockhead, her
eyes closing in pleasure as she sucked it gently.
Nick's hands cupped her head, ruffling through her hair as she took more
of him in. God, it felt so good, filling her mouth. She was getting
lost in the taste, the sensation, when it was taken away. She looked up
through hazy eyes to see that LaCroix was guiding Nick to the bed.
Tracy got to her feet, uncertain. While she stood there LaCroix circled
around her, leaning over her shoulder to rasp in her ear: "Look at him.
Can you see the fire glowing beneath the ivory of his skin? The
wantonness entangled with his innocence?" As she drank in the sight of
her partner, transfixed, LaCroix lifted her sweater over her head, those
cool hands bringing shivers of delight as they skimmed caressingly over
her flesh.
Nick watched as LaCroix undressed her, arousal as evident in his face as
in his cock. At last she stood naked and that cat's-tongue of a voice
purred, "Shall we pick up where we left off?" Mute, she nodded her
agreement and he led her to the bed. Nick's sigh of contentment as she
fell to savoring him again was soon muffled; she raised her eyes to see
LaCroix feeding him his cock. She coordinated her movements so that just
as her lips met Nick's pubic hair, he engulfed LaCroix's cock in his own
mouth.
As hot as she was, she was astonished by Nick's reaction: every inch of
his skin seemed alive with lust. Just as she was thinking this LaCroix
leaned over to brush her hair back from her face. "So responsive, isn't
he?" he murmured. "So...alive. Do you want his come, Tracy?"
Yes. Her desire sharpened and focused on this one thing: she wanted Nick
to come in her mouth--*now*.
A brush of a strong, elegant hand over the writhing body and Nick tore
his mouth away from LaCroix, roaring--then the other hand was pulling his
head to one white thigh and Nick bit into it... and flooded her throat
with his come.
It hit her like an electric shock and she wanted one thing and she wanted
it now. Now! One blinding moment later she was on her back and LaCroix
was inside her, eyes paled to white fire, fangs flashing as he rode her.
She wrapped her legs around him, tight, hands clutching at his buttocks.
Her hips were thrashing, her cunt clinging to him fiercely, wanting all
he could give her. Suddenly Nick was beside him, and that glaring visage
turned from her to bury its fangs in the offered throat.
She screamed. She couldn't seem to stop climaxing; wave after wave rose
and broke inside her.
Standard disclaimers apply; archiving permission to the CERKPerks, JADFE,
and www.fkfanfic.com. Comments and virtual massages to
stormborn@prodigy.net
Warnings: explicit m/m/f sex, UF-ish content.
A Little Talk (03/03)
By Molly Schneider
Copyright 1999
Tracy came to herself to find Nick looking at her--no, *staring* at her.
His eyes were blue again, but dark, and there was something of the
vampire still in the expression on his face. LaCroix's long pale body
was sprawled along the bed and he was looking at them both with the
detached interest of... of a bug collector, she decided. Great. What
had she gone and done now? Nick turned his head to exchange a long look
with his master, then turned back on her. Mine. That's what was in his
face, in his eyes. He is *mine*. "Nick--"
But he was getting out of bed, reaching for his jeans. "Nicholas."
"Games," he spat out. "You and your damned games."
She waited for whatever barbed quip LaCroix was going to throw, and was
surprised when he left the bed to go to his son, taking Nick in his arms.
"It's all right," he murmured. Nick just shook his head mutely, but he
let LaCroix gather him closer.
"Answers to a question you didn't ask, Detective Vetter. What it's like
for us, the sharing of blood. Shall I tell you? Will you understand
when I say that it is a joining, a merging of oneself with another? A
frightening thing; terrifying, actually. That is why Nicholas will never
leave me, nor I him: we are too much a part of each other." He eased
Nick down on the bed, still holding him, one elegant hand stroking the
fair hair.
The ivory one curled into the marble, nuzzling against the stroking hand,
closing tight against the strong body. Tracy crossed her legs and sat,
unheeded, on the corner of the bed, quiet. This was something she was
meant to see. Another lesson.
Gently, the father kissed his son and stroked him, calming the desperate
fire into a steady flame. They moved together with the assurance of a
deep, unbreakable bond, and when LaCroix penetrated him Nick sighed with
the heartfelt relief of a weary traveler at a welcoming hearth.
Tracy watched, brow creased in thought. On the most obvious level she
understood what she was being told: what had happened between the three
of them had been a diversion. An enjoyable diversion; but what was
between Nick and his master something else entirely. Nick needed
LaCroix, she could see that, and somehow she could sense that LaCroix
needed Nicholas. The one, whose fire filled him with a vibrant life,
even after all these centuries; the other, whose life was given meaning
by the flame...
They were both close now. LaCroix's thrusts had slowed and deepened; low
growls rolled from him. Nick was moaning uncontrollably, his back
arched, his head rolled to one side and pressed into the pillow, exposing
his throat for his master's bite. Coolly sensuous lips brushed the
tender skin. "Control, Nicholas? Do I control you, or do you control
*me*?" Fangs pierced flesh; a moment later Nick turned his head and
completed the circuit. They rocked together, locked in a circle from
which she would always be excluded.
It was oddly peaceful. She closed her eyes and listened to the soft
noises they made. It seemed only minutes later that a cool hand touched
her shoulder, but when she opened her eyes LaCroix was dressed and
leaning over her. "Shall I find someone to escort you home, Detective
Vetter?" She looked at her partner. He was asleep, she thought, but he
stirred and murmured, "Tracy?" Still concerned about her. Evil, she
thought, and smiled.
"No," she told LaCroix. "I'll maneuver the Caddy back to the station and
pick up my own car. Thanks, though."
"Of course."
As she dressed he left the room, returning a moment later with a woman's
silver hairbrush. In silence he brushed her hair; she closed her eyes
and savored the attention.
As he led her downstairs he said, "This time, Detective Vetter, I mean
what I say. Do not come here again without the young Spaniard. You are
an amusing and intelligent young woman. I would hate to see you come to
harm."
The end part of the lesson, she thought. There were fangs, sharp and
vicious, behind the glamour, and human blood wasn't just something you
saw too much of in horror movies... But the warning was gently delivered.
"I understand," she said quietly.
At the back door he turned to her. His smile was genuine and there was a
hint of warmth in those pale eyes as he took her hand and brushed his
lips against it. "Fare well then, Detective. Fare well."
FIN
Molly/StormBorn
UF/FKPagan/Cousin/Inn-mate/Seducer/Ravenette
stormborn@prodigy.net
http://members.tripod.com/~StormBorn/seducers.htm
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geocities.com/area51/hollow/1228) (
geocities.com/area51/hollow) (
geocities.com/area51)