Echoes
   by Leslie GS

Warning: knife play, blood sport, mild violence, explicit m/m sex (Nick/Lacroix), all consensual.
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"And what are we looking for, Nicholas?"

Nick started, Lacroix's voice suddenly in his ear. He whirled to glare at the other vampire. His maker stood about three feet away, lips quirked in an amused smile, his hands in the pockets of his leather overcoat.

"What do you want, Lacroix?"

"A modicum of civility, to start. You are, after all, rummaging about behind my establishment. You must allow me my proprietary curiosity."

Nick looked up. A back alley, damp, littered, somewhat pungent, in Toronto's more squalid side. His search had, in fact, led him behind the Raven and in his head-down concentration, he hadn't really noticed.

"A knife," he explained, tone mollifying. Lacroix had been quite a bit easier to live with as of late and Nick had found himself seeking him out rather more than was usual. After the head injury, there had been the... problem for which he'd needed to be taken to the exorcist. Then there had been the fever... "A switchblade. A murder suspect ran through this area and dropped his weapon. We think. But without the knife, with his prints and the victim's blood on it, we don't have much of a case."

"Ah, yes, I heard. A fracas last night a few blocks away, a young man dying in a pool of his own blood. Such a waste." Lacroix smiled benignly at his progeny. Nicholas turned away silently, narrowed eyes returning to their scan of the area.

Lacroix moved to walk slowly beside him, hands still in his pockets. "Isn't this something that an ordinary police officer should be doing? Not one of the premier detectives on the Toronto force?"

"The flu is sweeping through the ranks. Including my partner," Nick responded distractedly. He shrugged. "We're undermanned and it's my case."

"Hm," Lacroix commented and moved slightly away from the younger vampire, kicking aside a wad of crumpled newspaper and peering at the pavement where it had been. Nick stopped dead.

"What are you doing, Lacroix?"

Lacroix lifted his gaze from the ground to Nick, brows rising. "I'm looking for the knife, Nicholas," he replied, his tone one of surprise at needing to state the obvious.

Nick's brows rose as well and he stared back at Lacroix, nonplused. After a moment, he demanded, "Why?"

"Why not?" Lacroix replied, shrugging. "A whim, merely. Something to do on a slow Wednesday night."

Nick studied him a bit longer. Lacroix simply smiled, resting easily under his regard. Then Nick sighed. If Lacroix wanted to look for the knife, there was very little he could do to stop him. And with luck, Lacroix would quickly get bored. Or Nick would find it himself first.

"All right, Lacroix. But please, if you spot it, just let it be. I'll need to take a look at it first and tag it properly."

"As you say," the elder vampire replied and Nick's brows lowered slightly with the ease of Lacroix's compliance. But he could only watch as his maker turned away, his gaze sliding from Nick's face to the littered alleyway. After a moment, Nick joined him, occasionally flicking a glance his way.

They searched in silence for a brief time, making their way along the back of the Raven, pushing papers and other trash to one side with their feet. Once, when something slender and metallic gleamed, Nick bent closer to investigate. Only a strip of chrome automobile trim...

"Ah."

Nick straightened, turning, his eyes widening as Lacroix's soft exclamation was followed by the crisp "snick" of a knife blade locking open. His eyes were caught by the glint of metal, the glossiness of ebony, in his maker's hand.

"Lacroix, don't handle that! You'll destroy any fingerprints on it!" Nick strode rapidly toward him.

"Oh dear. How careless of me." Lacroix brought the blade up to his nose and sniffed delicately. "But it's not the one you want anyway. No blood." He held the knife, hilt first, out to Nick, who snatched it away with an irritated scowl.

"At least... not until a moment ago," commented Lacroix, peering down at the palm of his hand. Nicholas's abrupt grab had resulted in the knife's razor edge slicing through the meat at the base of the ancient vampire's thumb. The feral scent of his blood filled the alley as the bright red fluid pooled in his palm.

Nick grunted softly as the aroma invaded his sinuses, and he brought his hand up to press his knuckles against his mouth. A mistake, perhaps, as that hand held the knife, its edge tinted pink. The intoxicating essence bloomed in his brain, taking root in his spine. He closed his eyes as the beast squirmed in his mental grip. The lust for blood, raw, nerve rasping, flared almost beyond bearing... for it was his blood. First blood.

Lacroix's low chuckle insinuated itself through his ears. Nick's eyes snapped open again to meet the other's pale, penetrating stare. Mouth curling into a knowing smile, Lacroix held his hand out, blood trickling from between his fingers.

"Kiss it, Nicholas, and make it better." The intensity of Lacroix's eyes, the smile, lips slightly parted, spoke of his own arousal.

A fierce heat surged though Nick's brain, followed by a pang between pleasure and pain as his canines jutted down into his mouth. The unexpected twist in their interaction threw him off balance. And Lacroix's handling of the knife despite his request sparked his anger. Lust, however, drove the vampire completely to the fore. Snarling softly, awash in the heavy blood-scent, Nick reached out, grabbing the lapel of Lacroix's coat. He shoved his fist into the other's chest, and, smile deepening, Lacroix took a step back. Nick shoved him again, fingers still twisted in the leather, following close as Lacroix's shoulder blades hit the wall behind him. Nick's knife hand lifted upward, toward the other's face.

Eyes locked on one another, the ice white stare meeting the burning gold, they stood frozen a long moment. Then Lacroix's gaze shifted to the tip of the knife a bare inch from his left cheek. Nick's focus shifted to the eye above, to the reflection of the sharp point glittering in the pale orb. The blade lifted slightly, toward the black pool of Lacroix's pupil. Slowly he tilted his head back. Then the knife stilled as Lacroix's tongue slid from his mouth. Nick watched, brows rising, as Lacroix continued to lift his chin, twisting his neck to lick languidly along the flat of the blade. Nick unconsciously pulled the weapon back a bit. Lacroix paused, tongue tip on knife point. Then, eyes still fixed on Nicholas's, he let this slip between his lips. Leaning forward, Lacroix smoothly took the steel deep into his mouth.

"Hunh." Nick's breath burst from him gutturally, his stomach spasming as though he'd taken a blow. Lacroix drew his head back slowly, then Nick felt the hilt twitch slightly in his hand. Lacroix had flicked the steel with his tongue. Eyes locked on the knife, Nicholas pulled it from between the other's lips. The length gleamed wetly with Lacroix's saliva and the last two inches were tinted red. A driblet of blood followed the blade's tip over the center of Lacroix's lower lip. Nick's hand pressing against Lacroix's chest curled into a fist, gripping the slick fabric of his shirt. The knife seemed to have become unnaturally heavy; Nick couldn't seem to lift it from Lacroix's skin. It slipped down, over the chin, painting a thin stripe with the blood dripping from Lacroix's lip.

The hunger beat at him, pounding in his veins with the same pulsing rhythm that gripped his groin. He watched at some distance as the knife point moved lower to dimple the tender flesh under Lacroix's jaw. That need, always there, but usually only a sullen ache, was fully awake, clawing at his guts. Somewhere he was telling himself that he shouldn't do this, shouldn't want this. That inner voice sounded far away and faint, though, drowned out by the lusts that gripped every one of his senses. The steel tip slid slowly down Lacroix's jugular, leaving a livid trail on the taut ivory of the unbroken skin. That skin. And what flowed beneath it. Blood... and the essence carried on that blood; potent with a dark, consuming passion for life... and for Nicholas himself.

He inhaled sharply, bringing the blade down abruptly, to the front of the collar of Lacroix's black silk shirt. His eyes still on his own hand, he could feel Lacroix's gaze upon his face, the intent searching of his regard. The mental connection he had with his maker had come alive, singing with a high pitched tension. Nick touched the top button with the point of the switchblade.

The vampire jerked savagely at the reins of his control. One swift upward stroke would free a feast. Possibly that was exactly what Lacroix expected. Possibly he would permit Nicholas to do so. A recklessness seized Nick, that same urge to experience that had ended with Lacroix's blood in his veins that first time. And having chosen a path, he found the beast within was again his to direct, if not quell completely. He brought the knife down, laying the flat along the base of Lacroix's throat. He slipped it lower, severing the threads that held the top button. Slowly, the flat of the blade slid over Lacroix's chest and his taut belly, through the opening of the shirt. The razored edge sliced the buttons from their moorings, the quiet rattle as they hit the pavement clear in the silent alley.

He glanced up into Lacroix's face. His maker's expression, brows lifted, contained intrigued arousal, and, much to his own gratification, a hint of surprise.

Nick smiled, the vampire settling even more firmly under his control. He gripped the right lapels of Lacroix's shirt and coat together, pulling them to one side. As the tails of the other's shirt slipped from his trousers, Nick used the tip of the knife to cut the lower two buttons free. They skittered on the street with the soft clatter of cast dice. Then he placed the point in the hollow at the base of Lacroix's throat. The man lifted his chin slightly, his eyes fixed on Nick's face with an expression of intent interest.

Nick trailed the point lower, in slow serpentine patterns over the other's broad chest. He circled one of the pale aureoles and it tightened, the nipple coming erect for him. He shifted to the other side, and the response there was equally swift. He lowered the blade, running it in quick, careful strokes between the hollows of Lacroix's ribs. As he ringed the other's navel, he reached out, setting his free hand on Lacroix's belt.

He hesitated, his thumb rubbing the smooth leather where it arched through the buckle. Then he found himself moving with a sudden burst of speed, quickly tugging the belt open. His jerks pulled Lacroix's pelvis forward and Nick eased the blade back a bit. If he pierced the soft skin of Lacroix's belly, drawing blood, he wasn't sure he could resist slashing deeper, then burying his face against the bleeding wound. He wasn't ready for that yet. He undid the button on Lacroix's fly, then lowered the zipper. He wasn't quite sure where he was going with this, but he wasn't ready for it to end.

Lacroix's eyes rested upon Nick's face, seemingly drinking in every nuance of his expressions. As was often the case, he seemed more interested in what Nicholas was doing than in what he himself was feeling. Nick wondered if he could change that. Lifting his hand from Lacroix's trousers, he grabbed his coat lapel again, pushing his knuckles hard into the side of Lacroix's chest.

Staring into his maker's eyes, Nick slid the blade straight down, along the flat belly, under the waistband of his shorts, just to the left side. The other man inhaled slowly as the knife slipped lower, over his loin. It came to rest alongside his phallus, the tip pricking the top of his thigh, next to his testicle. Nick twisted the blade, so that the edge, not the flat, rested against Lacroix's skin. He searched his maker's face for fear. What he did find was his maker's features alive with focused alertness. His mouth bent in his characteristic small, open-lipped smile and his pale eyes glittered with anticipation.

Nick pulled the knife toward himself and it cut through the silk with a vicious, tearing sound. He glanced down the whole length of Lacroix's exposed torso, its lean muscularity of course unchanged. His gaze came to rest on the other's penis, the pale shaft swelling slowly, lifting slightly out of the shadows at his crotch. His breath quickening, he set the knife tip above the base of Lacroix's phallus. Swallowing hard, he slowly drew it up the center of Lacroix's belly, dipping into the hollow of his navel, up over the fine, marble white skin.

If only it were this easy to reach his maker's inner depths. The surface, the flesh, had never been denied him. But the enigma at the center... He still didn't know Lacroix, even centuries after that first night. That night, when his deadly fascination for this man, for what he could show him, led him to accept Lacroix's offer of eternity.

He lifted his eyes to Lacroix's, setting the edge of the knife against the other's throat. He wanted it, that blood; dark, chaotic with passions and agonies which he could drink in, feed on, even as comprehension eluded him. Lacroix met his stare, eyes bright, and Nick knew he'd allow him to make the cut. Desire flared, hot, fierce, and with a low growl, his fist tightened on the hilt. Then he growled again, open mouthed, with pain, as he wrestled the beast back under his own will.

He could have it... but he craved more. He lowered the knife, bringing it to the center of Lacroix's chest. He set the flat of it over his maker's heart, opening his hand, holding it there with his palm.

"You," Nick demanded, his voice rough, as he pressed the switchblade upon Lacroix. "You now."

Lacroix peered into his face and Nicholas could feel a delicate touch upon the surface of his mind. Then Lacroix's mouth curved into a smile, one that reached his eyes, warming them.

"As you wish, Nicholas," he murmured as he reached up, his fingers curling around the ebony hilt. He lifted his other hand, setting it on his son's shoulder. Stepping forward, then to the side, he turned Nick until they had switched places. The younger vampire leaned back against the unyielding bricks behind him, his mouth suddenly dry. He had to smile slightly at Lacroix's mild grimace of impatience as the trousers Nick had unfastened began to slide down his thighs. The elder vampire allowed them to finish their fall, along with the ruined undergarments, releasing Nick to use that hand to push off his boots, one at a time. Nicholas's eyes widened a bit and he flicked a nervous glance down to the opening of the alley.

Lacroix stood up straight, the lean, pale column of his body framed in the black leather of his overcoat. He shoved the pile of pants and boots to one side with a bare foot. Nick's gaze shifted back to him, taken once again by the complete lack of modesty or shame in his maker. It couldn't even be said that he flaunted the power evident in his body or the arousal evinced by the heavy, lengthening phallus. He just... was.

Nick grinned a bit recklessly. "If somebody comes through here, I'll have to arrest you for indecent exposure."

Lacroix smiled back, eyes crinkling at the corners. He replied softly, "We'll have to share the same cell." Nick's breath caught in his throat as his maker flowed closer, his movement fluidly non-human. The blade glinted under his chin, followed by the cool kiss of metal over his heart then down his suddenly tight belly. Buttons pattered to the pavement, then Lacroix was jerking his shirt tails from his pants with two hands. The last buttons popped free as the elder vampire yanked his shirt wide.

His smile deepened as he revealed Nick's torso, the hard muscularity of his chest and stomach. The utter satisfaction that suffused his features was such as his progeny had seen before, many times. Once it had been accompanied by the smug comment, "Michaelangelo may have his David. I, I have my Nicholas." This time, Lacroix was silent, content simply to allow his eyes to roam a moment. Then he dropped the widespread shirt and eased forward, the knife point coming up to trace lightly across the width of Nicholas's chest, just under the collarbone.

Nick slowly sucked in a deep breath, willing himself to relax into the sensations, his chest expanding with a flare of his ribs. Lacroix purred softly, eyes narrowing in appreciation. The blade slipped lower, over a pectoral muscle, to circle widely around that nipple.

Anything, in Lacroix's hands, could become an instrument of torture or delight, and sometimes it was difficult to make the distinction. A knife, though, was a perfect tool for both, and as the flat of the blade caressed the smooth muscle of Nicholas's breast, he closed his eyes. Shimmers of memory threatened; other times, other blades, the same hands. Blades, so very like teeth-- He hissed, eyes flying wide as pain stabbed above his left nipple. His gaze locked on Lacroix's face, a scant foot from his.

"Am I boring you, Nicholas?" The inquiry seemed mild enough and there was a glint of amusement in Lacroix's eye. But his fingers had come up to tighten slightly on Nick's shoulder. The other hand held the knife, its tip just through the skin, keeping the tiny wound open.

"No," Nick replied quickly, voice low. "I was-"

"I know. But stay with me, Nicholas. Here." He pulled the point from the other's flesh, turning the blade. A droplet of blood, ruby bright against the white skin, oozed free before the puncture healed. Lacroix's eyes dropped to that liquid gem as he slowly, firmly, dragged the blade straight down over the tight bud below it. The scraping of the razor sharp edge, carefully angled, did not break the skin, but the intense burn drew another hiss from Nicholas.

"Here... and now," Lacroix continued, as he bent, his gaze still fixed on the drop of blood as it trickled over Nicholas's hardening nipple. Then his mouth was on him.

"Oh." Nick's sigh was so soft as to be nearly inaudible. Lacroix's tongue gently rubbed the tingling nipple, soothing, cooling the heat. Then it flicked up to the tiny wound just above, healed but still tender. Lacroix growled softly, his mouth returning to the nipple. Nick gasped at the careful bite, the warmth flaring there again. At the same time, Lacroix scraped across his chest with the edge of the knife, in short, quick, firm strokes, over and over, inching toward the other nipple. The feel of the sharp edge dominated the sensations, but when Lacroix abruptly lifted the blade, Nicholas found the top of his chest suffused with a glowing hum.

Then the point was darting rapidly over the nipple, which had crinkled in anticipation of being touched. Nicholas writhed under the repeated pricking, almost reaching up to push Lacroix's hand away. But just before he could, Lacroix's mouth was there, suckling the irritation away. Nick sighed, relaxing, savoring the tingling warmth spread all across the top of his chest.

The knife had proved quite effective in maintaining his attention, but as Lacroix's lips, tongue and teeth enjoyed his nipple, Nick refocused on the growing urgency in his groin. He shifted restlessly and Lacroix brought his knife hand up to Nick's shoulder. Last two fingers still curling around the haft of the knife, the rest gripped him hard, holding him, as the other hand rose between his thighs to cup his groin. Moaning softly, Nicholas pressed his hips forward, reflexively filling that large palm. Stroking him gently through the fabric of his pants, Lacroix continued to suck and bite at his nipples. The other hand slid down, to pass the cool flat of the blade lightly back and forth over his belly. Nick's stomach muscles jerked spasmodically as the sharp tip trailed just above his waistline. He wondered hazily for a moment if he was about to lose both his belt and his pants. He did, though only figuratively, as Lacroix used his fingers, not the knife, to undo the buckle and then the zipper.

"Mmmm." Nick bit his lip, squirming as Lacroix's hand slipped in the front of his pants, his fingernails running up his shaft on the slick satin of his briefs. Then the elastic band was stretched over his erection and then the briefs and the pants pushed down over his hips. Nick held his breath as Lacroix crouched lower and lower, his lips and tongue caressing the soft skin of his abdomen. Through narrowed eyes, Nick looked down at the man kneeling at his feet. Cool breath trickled over his loin, through the crisply curling hair. He heard Lacroix's long, savored inhalation, and then his maker looked up into his eyes, face alight with pleasure. Nick blinked, that expression familiar, but, as always, unexpected. Then Lacroix bent his head again, his open mouth trailing over the tender skin at the top of his thigh. He moved to the other side then, completely by-passing the rigid phallus thrusting upward from its dark gold nest. He nuzzled beside it, while the cold hard blade came to rest on the other hip. Nick moaned softly and Lacroix glanced back up at him.

Urgency ached in Nick's cock, from root to swollen glans. His eyes came to rest on Lacroix's full lips, shaped in a curve of knowing promise. He swallowed hard, clenching his fists.

"Please," he whispered.

The curve of Lacroix's mouth deepened, then he shifted, lips parting, and eyes still on Nicholas's, kissed the tip of his cock, slick with pre-seminal fluids. Nick stiffened, grunting softly. Then the tongue tip swirled around the head, probing under the tight foreskin, skinning it all the way back. Then the lips were sliding, sliding down. Moaning softly, Nick reached out, running both hands over the bristling stiffness of Lacroix's hair, pushing himself into the engulfing wetness. The tight ring of Lacroix's lips slid to the base of his cock as he pressed his face into Nick's groin. His tongue writhed along the underside of the shaft. Then Nick gasped, bending forward slightly as Lacroix swallowed, the muscles of his throat spasming around the end of Nick's cock. Heat flared suddenly from his hip down the length of his thigh with the dragging of the knife edge across his skin. Lacroix pulled back, sucking hard, and the blade scraped up from his loin over his belly. The humming burn mingled with the joy evoked by slippery working of Lacroix's tongue and lips, building a sweet, sharp urgency.

"Oh, God," he moaned, and then he was lost in the sensations; his cock consumed by that clever, ravenous mouth, the skin of his belly and thighs on fire, Lacroix deftly passing the stroking blade from one hand to another. Occasionally a more intense heat would flare as the point darted against his skin. Lacroix's fingers, light, gentle, would trail over these burning stripes, their tips slick with Nick's blood. The smell of his own desires, hot, coppery, filled his nose. Panting, he clamped his fingers on the bristling hair under his hands, needing some point of solid contact as the intense stimulation grew overwhelming.

Then Lacroix surged to his feet, tugging his head from Nick's grip. Nick groaned aloud as the mouth left him, then Lacroix leaned into him, chest to chest. A gust of air burst from Nick's lungs. Crushed against the wall, he felt Lacroix's naked erection, iron hard, sliding along his own. Lacroix jammed his left hand between them, the long, powerful fingers encircling both their cocks, squeezing them together. As his spit-slick, rigid shaft slithered against Lacroix's in that firm grip, cold steel was laid under his ear, along his jaw. Mingled arousal and alarm rushed along Nick's nerves.

Fear bloomed as a lucid awareness washed through him; the only choices he had in these instances were those given him. The knife at his throat was harmless. It spoke, though, of the real dangers present in the powerful body pressed against his. Lacroix could, with little effort, take what he wanted. Anything. His flesh. His blood. Nick's body grew rigid as he felt himself caught, suspended in a web spun of his desire and his fear of being utterly consumed. Warring impulses tore at him, to push Lacroix away or to thrust more deeply into the hand engulfing him.

Then the knife slid down, lightly caressing his jugular before being lifted entirely. Lacroix's lips replaced it under his ear, brushing softly. The breath of his maker's sigh ghosted along his throat, nearly inaudible.

The tension drained from his body, leaving him feeling loose-limbed and light. Lacroix could take him unwilling. But he never had. Nick could push him away. Now. Even this late in the game. Rebuffed, Lacroix would step back, enveloped in an implacable, stony silence, and leave him, alone, half naked and completely aroused. He had before. Before- that's what Nicholas had wanted, mostly, despite the agonizing, frustrated state it left him in. Before, when his feelings toward Lacroix had finally reached that point when lust, no matter how skillfully evoked, could not overcome loathing. This time... He pushed his hips forward, pressing his erection against Lacroix's, caught together in the same fist. This time, this was his choice.

The lips against his skin stretched in a smile at the same time as the hand holding him stroked upward. A long, shuddering exhalation escaped Nick as Lacroix rolled the heads of their cocks together, coating both with the fluids oozing from their tips. With a pump of his hips, Lacroix slid the underside of his rigid phallus along Nick's.

"Yes," Nicholas breathed and Lacroix drew back slightly, to look searchingly into his face. Then the knife returned to his throat, its light touch a delicate, chilly kiss on Nick's skin.

"Oh, yes." The words sighed from Nick as he turned his head to one side, lifting his chin, exposing the strong arc of his throat. A shudder passed through Lacroix's body, and his next inhalation was ragged, harsh. The knife blade trembled, lifting a bit. Then his breath eased out and the cool metal smoothly trailed the length of Nick's jugular. At the same time Lacroix skimmed upward with his hand, over the velvety skin of both their cocks. The sensations combined, sending a sweet rush of pleasure up Nick's spine. He set light fingers on the back of the hand holding them both. Lacroix began a slow, steady thrusting with this hips, using his own phallus to stroke Nicholas's. A soft moan escaped from between Nick's lips, and he leaned back against the wall, letting the feelings take him.

Staring into the fire-flecked eyes before him, Nick gave Lacroix what he wanted; his lust, open and naked on his face, in his body's perfect response. His maker's gaze roved over his features, feeding avidly on the sight. Lacroix's touch never lost its precision, however, and his rocking hips slowed as Nicholas came to balance on the precarious brink of orgasm. The edge of the knife teased lightly along the offered column of Nick's throat. Intermittent pricking with the point sent jolts of anticipation coursing up his spine. He struggled to keep his knees locked, fighting the jerking muscles of his thighs. His hand resting on the fist Lacroix had curled around their cocks began to tremor. He lifted it, sliding it up Lacroix's arm to grip the shoulder of his coat, twisting the leather, pulling the collar away from the other's throat. The hand on him nearly stopped, a slight pulsing squeeze stoking the sweet blaze climbing from the root of his cock. Belly tight, the wind of his short, shallow gasps hissed past his fangs. His gaze remained trapped by Lacroix's wide eyes, mutating from ice to flame.

Slowly, Lacroix leaned toward him, lips parting. He lightly brushed them against Nicholas's. Not kissing, but catching his son's desperate breaths in the hollow of his mouth. The feathery contact wrenched a low moan from Nick as his awareness shifted away from his groin. The lust to bite, to have his mouth full of gouting blood, surged through him.

Then- "Nicholasss..." The soft voice, rich and dark with desire, caressed his ears, touched his mind. He barely noticed the stroke of the hand which lit the incandescence in his groin. Electric rapture shot up his spine and he inhaled the clean, bloody scent of his own come. His shout of ecstasy was caught in Lacroix's mouth and swallowed before he could wrench his head to one side. Both fists now wrapped in the shoulders of Lacroix's coat, he yanked him forward to sink thirsting fangs into the offered throat.

The sheer delight of biting sent another wave of bliss washing over him, as his teeth sank deep into the firm flesh. Then the blood burned over his tongue and he convulsed against the hard body pressing him to the wall. Steel's icy fire stabbed his jugular, blood freely spurting from the precise cut. He heard Lacroix's soft grunt as the jet of fluid hit him in the face. Then the other's orgasm smashed against his mind, flaring across their link. The taste of Lacroix's ecstasy flooded his mouth. Nick's senses dissolved into a hot red bliss, their commingled pleasures consuming him almost completely. He was dimly aware of Lacroix's teeth sinking into his throat, over the slash, and the tugging at his flesh as Lacroix tore the wound wider.

Chaos. He swallowed a maelstrom and it twisted him out of himself into blazing ecstasy. He burned, dark flame licking along his veins. His own eternal hunger was met by another, even stronger, savored and reveled in. Consumed, he consumed in turn, flooded by a bottomless, unfathomable passion. Lacroix. He caught at him, latching on to the sense that a word, that name, gave him. Images, sounds, the shattered kaleidoscope of an ancient's experiences flicked through him. The scent of his own arousal, blood-sweat and sandalwood, Janette's luminous eyes, the pure intensity carried in a single drop of his own sister's blood, a childish voice babbling in Latin... A ferocious strength suddenly rose up, coiling around him, threatening to crush him.

Golden incandescence flared and he tasted himself, carried on the deluge he swallowed and swallowed. Twining with the primal essence of the one who made him, they fused with an explosive force, obliterating all thought. All hungers, all passions sated, they soared, in an eternal instant of peace, enfolded by, enfolding, the other.

Hazy, his nerves still humming with the languorous warmth of his orgasms, he pulled his teeth from Lacroix's flesh. He licked lazily at the wounds as they closed, savoring those last tastes of himself and his maker mingled. Lacroix's fangs slipped from him as well. Soft lips then kissed the delicious ache of the healing gashes, sipping still as the last blood oozed free. Nick relaxed his grip on the other's coat at the same time as Lacroix drew his arms from around his back. Strong hands grasped Nicholas's shoulders a moment, supporting him as all his weight settled back down on his own legs.

Then Lacroix stepped back, hands still on Nick's shoulders. The younger vampire met the other's penetrating eyes, their brows arched questioningly. Nick's lips parted, his own gaze roving searchingly over Lacroix's features. He felt a pressure in his chest, something unspoken pressing its way upward. It was not an unfamiliar feeling after being with Lacroix; this sense of having touched upon something unknowable. This time, though, he had come ... close. Closer, anyway, and he inhaled, not really sure of what he was going to say.

"That was good," he blurted finally, his voice soft.

Lacroix's brows lifted higher, and then he smiled. Releasing Nicholas's shoulders, he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a handkerchief.

"You're a mess, Nicholas," he commented, offering the cloth.

Nick took it and wiped at his mouth and chin, eyeing the still glistening mask his own blood had created on Lacroix's face. A grin slanting his mouth, he flipped his own handkerchief out, tossing it toward the other man.

"Glass houses," he replied, as Lacroix plucked the fabric square out of the air. Smiling silently, the elder vampire began mopping off his own face, then continued down his neck and chest. Lower, the mess took on a dark pink cast. A general wiping and arranging of clothing took place in silence, Lacroix tucking the ruined scrap of his shorts in his coat pocket before donning his trousers and stepping into his boots. He watched a moment as Nick dabbed ineffectually at their combined, increasingly tacky semen on his belly.

"You're welcome to come in," he offered casually. "Take a shower."

"No." Nick looked down at himself. Spots of drying blood and smears of dark pink stained the front of his pants. There were smudges on his buttonless shirt as well. Unease stirred in the back of his brain. He shoved it down, not ready to relinquish his feeling of loose-jointed satiation. Not yet. Tomorrow, he'd think about this tomorrow. "I'm going to need to change. I'd better go home. Then back to the precinct."

Lacroix shrugged slightly and finished tucking in his shirt. "If duty calls, I suppose you must needs answer." He turned his eyes from Nick's face to scan the ground at their feet. Spotting what he was looking for, he stepped forward, beginning to stoop down. Then he paused. Standing straight again, he pointed at something at their feet. Nick followed the gesture as Lacroix spoke.

"Well, Nicholas, how fortuitous."

Eagerly, Nick crouched down. There, a few feet away from the knife Lacroix had dropped, was another, the hilt of red plastic. A dried brownish film dulled the steel blade. He whipped an evidence bag out of his jacket pocket and carefully maneuvered the newly discovered switchblade into it. Standing, he sealed the bag and held it up, a triumphant grin on his face.

"This has got to be it," he declared, peering at it through the clear plastic.

"The odds would suggest so," Lacroix replied, a slight smile quirking his mouth as he studied Nicholas's delighted, boyish expression.

Brow furrowing, Nick scooped up the original switchblade still lying in the street. "Where did this one come from, I wonder?"

Lacroix reached out, fingers curling around the ebony hilt to take it from Nicholas's hand. He pressed the catch that unlocked the blade, folding it neatly.

"My pocket," he replied lightly, smiling into Nicholas's eyes as he tucked the knife away.

FIN


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This page was created Friday, August 28th, 1998
Most recent revision Friday, August 28th, 1998