Note: In September, 1997, April Hackett and Susan Field gave us a story, When In Rome... which was a dream, really. Set after the events of Ashes to Ashes, it was a dream Lacroix had after watching some movies about Imperial Rome, where a mortal Lucius bought and bound and trained a captured Celtic warrior, Nicholas, to serve his pleasure. His dream ... leaked, however, and Nick was caught up in its effects. April and Susan left off just as Lacroix wakes up, facing an ... agitated Nicholas. I thought it interesting to speculate on the events which might follow, so I wrote the story below. My thanks to April and Susan for plumbing Lacroix's subconscious in the first place, and then for allowing me connect my story to theirs.
I also wish to thank Julia Kocich for wielding her editorial scalpel with untiring and discerning precision. If you like this story, a great deal of the credit goes to her. If you don't... well, she tried. <g>
LaCroix started awake, the dream still very much a part of his thoughts. What had awakened him? He lay very still with his eyes closed and extended his senses through the room. Nothing.
Suddenly the soft sound of displaced air filled the room and Nicholas was standing by the couch. LaCroix could feel the aroused state his son was in. 'Well, well...' he thought as he slowly opened his eyes to look upon his son. Amber hued eyes gazed back.
When another spike of Nicholas' growing arousal arced across their link, LaCroix mumbled, "Maybe a carrot will work here as well as in my dream," as he pulled himself into a seated position on the couch. Looking back at Nick, he noticed the swirling tension, as well as the curiosity which had pulled his son home.
"Nicholas, why don't you get something to drink and join me," LaCroix softly said. "I expect we'll find something to discuss."
---From When In Rome... by April Hackett and Susan Field
(Available from April at Knightwave@aol.com )
Rome Burns... by Leslie GS"I'm really not in the mood for one of our discussions, Lacroix," Nick stated, his voice soft, with a hint of a rasp. "Why are you here? What were you ... doing?" The amber glow in his eyes cooled, becoming no more than a hard glitter as he collected himself, becoming focused on discovering exactly what Lacroix's game was.
"Sleeping, actually, Nicholas," Lacroix replied lightly. "I fell asleep watching a movie. One of those old Technicolor recreations of the Roman Empire. And..." He studied Nicholas and the reason for the arousal he felt radiating from his son became completely clear. "And I dreamt."
"That ... was a dream?" His dark blue eyes roved over Lacroix's face with a wariness sharpened by the intensity of what he had just experienced.
The central motif of his dream passed rapidly through Lacroix's mind. If even some of those images had passed through their bond, that would certainly explain this angry edge to the mixed emotions he perceived from Nicholas.
"Yes," he stated slowly. "Whatever you ... received from me was ... without intent." As he spoke, he carefully examined his connection to his protege, ensuring that it ran at no more than its usual mere trickle. An unease twisted in him. He'd never lost control like this before, unconsciously allowing his own mental states to leak to Nicholas. Nor was it like him to fall asleep in an unsecured location.
"You're telling me what I ... perceived from you was ... accidental?" Nick shifted his feet, leaning back a bit, the suspicion in his gaze softened somewhat by puzzlement. Lacroix found himself quelling a burst of irritation at the suggestion he was not the master of himself or his situation. He rose abruptly to his feet.
"That's correct, Nicholas," he replied, meeting the other's gaze steadily. Nick blinked at the honest admission. Prepared for ironic sarcasm, the simple, direct statement disarmed him, and his hunter's intensity faded, his shoulders easing while his hands came together so he could fidget with his fingers. His eyes continued to glitter with a sharp curiosity, however. And Lacroix could smell his arousal, that hint of sandalwood and blood-sweat and ... temptation. "As you're not interested in a discussion, I'll be on my way."
"No," Nick said quickly, taking a step forward, one hand coming out, though he did not get close enough to actually touch Lacroix. "No. I want to know something. Stay. Please."
Lacroix let his gaze rest heavily upon his son. Divia, their encounter with Divia had stripped away a number of barriers between them, leaving them both unsettled, their old patterns broken. Of course, they had centuries of history behind them and the easiest thing to do, perhaps even the most comfortable for them both, would be to pretend Divia had not happened. That a number of incidents in the past few years had not happened. He was tempted to throw some sort of barb - but - he wasn't sure he wished to begin re-erecting those barriers. Yet.
Nick, meeting Lacroix's level gaze with one of his own, waited with a patience admirable in one still as ... agitated as he was. His request, an impulsive one perhaps, seemed fueled by a real desire to know... what? Rather intriguing, actually, as Nicholas was all too rarely willing to follow the threads which led into the labyrinth of their relationship.
"Very well," Lacroix replied, sitting again on the edge of the couch, and reaching for the bottle on the coffee table before him to refresh his glass. Nicholas watched him settle back in his seat with his drink. Lacroix sipped, then turned to look at him mildly. "You had a question, Nicholas..?"
"Yeah, just a minute," the younger vampire responded, lips a bit tight. Nick paced into the kitchen, casting a baleful glare at the case of mixed blood/wine Lacroix had set on the counter. He banged about in his refrigerator for a while, then returned to the couch, a bottle in one hand and a glass in the other, wearing a slightly defiant expression. He plopped down on the other end of the couch, poured himself a glass and set the bottle down on the table before them. Lacroix's nose wrinkled a bit, but he had to smile to himself, wondering if the defiance Nicholas was showing was toward him, in that the blood was bovine, or toward the good doctor in that it was blood at all. He leaned forward and took up his own glass, taking a sip and thereby burying his nose a moment in the more acceptable odors of human blood mixed with a trace of fine wine.
"What are you doing here?" Nick asked, grimacing a bit as he swallowed a mouthful of his drink. His question was only a little less brusque than the first time. His glance flicked onto Lacroix and off again, and he shifted restlessly on the couch, finally putting one foot up on the edge of the table and cradling his glass in both hands in his lap.
"Is that your question?" Lacroix inquired, brows lifting.
"Do I only get one?" Nick's lips twitched into a slanting smile. "If so, no, it's not."
"Then ask that one. I'm not inclined to answer twenty of them." Lacroix took a large swallow from his glass. If Nicholas still felt the effects of the dream, so did he, and his protege's presence a few feet away from him, the sight, sound, and scent of him, did nothing to lessen the impact. He looked up from his musings to find Nicholas staring at him.
"You too, Lacroix?" he asked softly.
Lacroix gazed into his eyes a moment, then let a self-mocking smile curve his lips. "Nicholas, you're only getting the fall-out. I was at ground zero." He chuckled, leaning back and bringing one hand up to rest on his chest. His fingers trailed lightly over the silk of his shirt as he let the delightful sexual tension suffuse him. Nick took a hasty swallow of his drink, then, with a curl of his lips and a glare at his glass, he set it on the table. It apparently had done nothing to cool the heat that had abruptly flared.
"And ... was that your question, Nicholas?" Lacroix inquired mildly, rolling his head on the back of the couch to look at Nick from under hooding lids. Though his fingers stilled, his hand remained over his heart.
"No. No. My question is, is that really how you want me. Is that how you want it between us?"
Brows rising as his head cocked slightly to the side, Lacroix said, "Go on."
"That dream, Lacroix. The images weren't crystal clear, but I think I got the gist. I was your ... slave. You bound me. You used me. You had others use me. Is that what you want me to be? Your slave?"
Lacroix looked down at his glass. He watched the blood swirl in the goblet's crystal bowl as he twirled the stem in his fingers. Then he lifted his cool blue gaze to meet Nicholas's eyes. "That would make certain things easier."
Nicholas shifted his gaze, rose, and began to turn away. Lacroix set his own glass on the table, and stood just after he did. Lacroix's voice, pitched to an icy clarity to cut through the despair and self-loathing brought on by this answer, as well as by his unrelenting arousal, stopped him.
"Consider, Nicholas. When have you ever observed in me the desire that anything between us be ... easy?"
Still half turned away, staring unseeing at the floor, Nick demanded, "What do you mean?"
"You, Nicholas, have never been my slave," Lacroix replied, tone softening. He let his eyes linger on his creation's profile, the dark gold hair, the curve of his ear, the corner of his mouth. Then his gaze slid over the sturdy shoulders, the strength in the lines of the back, the swell of the firm buttocks, the hard thighs and calves of a horseman. His hands remembered every inch of skin on this body, every bunching muscle, every tender hollow. "You, Nicholas, are anything but easy."
Nick stood still a moment, then lifted his head, his dark blue eyes flickering over Lacroix's face. "That dream..." he said softly.
Lacroix met Nicholas's gaze, held it with his own icy one. "I will not deny, Nicholas, that there have been times when I wished to ... bind you, to find my own pleasure in your body, whether you would have me or no."
"Why didn't you?" Nicholas's eyes narrowed as he peered into Lacroix's, his fists closing as images of times when he'd been less than completely compliant, but no, never bound, never simply used, flickered through his memory.
"Because, Nicholas, I want you ... willing. I can always ... take. But-" He paused, studying his son's face before taking a slow, deep breath. "But I prefer - I have always preferred - that our encounters be consensual. Assuaging mutual ... passions."
Nick's eyes widened slightly, his lips parting, though he didn't speak immediately. Then he said softly, with a tiny, astonished smile. "You're serious."
With a snort of laughter, Lacroix turned and took a few steps away. Then he turned back, mouth bent in a cool upward curve. "No, of course I'm not. I find it amusing to place myself in a position to be ridiculed and rejected by those I desire."
"You ... occasionally make it difficult to do otherwise." Nick's eyes, bright with fascination, followed Lacroix's movements as though confronted by some strange new animal.
"Well, therein lies the challenge, n'est-ce pas? As I said, I don't care for things to be too easy." He grinned sardonically at Nick, then bent and picked up his glass from the table and drained it. "At any rate, your question's answered and dawn approaches. I'd best be off."
"You didn't answer my question," Nick said quickly.
"I thought I had. But in a word, Nicholas, no. I do not want you to be my slave." He glanced out the window at the graying sky. He had perhaps half an hour to find accommodations for the day, preferably with a more pliant, if temporary, companion. Nick, noting his glance and aware himself of the approaching sun, took a step toward him.
"Give me just a moment more of your time."
Lacroix quelled his impatience to be away. Actually, being trapped with Nicholas for the day could be an ... entertaining if frustrating experience. He was quite aware that his desire for his protege was at the root of his sexual arousal yet he found he had no stomach for the prospect of a day of cat and mouse with the other man. And this sort of open conversation was wearying. Though Nicholas, while clearly astonished by Lacroix's statement, had wisely, or perhaps thoughtfully, not laughed in his face. He sighed.
"All right, Nicholas. But this question had best be quick."
Nick took a couple more steps until he was standing just before Lacroix. He took a deep breath before he responded, "Actually, this is a question for myself, not for you."
The elder vampire watched with some puzzlement as Nicholas's hand rose slowly toward his face. He felt no impulse toward violence in their link, however, so he permitted it to come close while he tried to sort through the emotions that were flowing through their bond. The sexual excitement remained, though it was submerged, tangled up in the sensation of amazed, almost disbelieving, anticipation, as though Nicholas were about to commit an incredibly risky act.
Nicholas's eyes, their usual dark blue black as their pupils dilated to their utmost, met Lacroix's gaze unwaveringly. Slowly, Nick slid his hand to the nape of Lacroix's neck, easing them together, until Lacroix could feel his son's body lightly pressed against the length of his own. Still staring into Lacroix's eyes, Nick placed his mouth on his maker's. A tremor ran up the elder vampire's spine, but he held himself still, giving his son the time he needed for his investigations. Nicholas kissed him, lips closed, a moment. Then his lips parted and his tongue tip emerged to probe tentatively. Lacroix opened his mouth slightly, sucking gently, drawing Nicholas's tongue in, welcoming it with his own. His guts tightened as a flare of lust from Nicholas stabbed through their bond. A shudder passed through Nick's body and he broke away. Fiercely, Lacroix curbed his impulse to grab him, pull him into his arms.
Softly, he inquired, "And ... did that answer your question, Nicholas?"
"Yes," Nick whispered hoarsely, eyes closed. "I ... need-" He broke off. His eyes opened and fixed somewhere in region of Lacroix's mouth. "I want you."
Lacroix inhaled slowly, those words awakening in him such a sense of unreality that he wondered a moment if he had in fact ever emerged from his dream-state. The breath-stealing sensation of his own arousal and the resounding answering chord of Nicholas's burning through their connection convinced him that he had actually heard those words. Gripping his self-control hard, he remained still, outwardly calm.
"Then take me, Nicholas," he murmured. "Just ... take." He considered running a fingertip down the front of Nicholas's shirt, placing his hand on his son's hip, perhaps pulling them lightly together again, even tilting his chin up, exposing his own throat. But he made no moves toward Nicholas, knowing that to seem to push, to demand, at this point could easily call this to a complete halt.
Slowly, as though carefully tasting the word, Nicholas repeated, "Take..."
"Yes, Nicholas. Take what you need. What you want." Those words, stated explicitly and implicitly over the many centuries they had been together, hung in the silent room, empty even of the sound of a breath or a heart beat.
"Unless, of course," Lacroix went on softly, "you've changed your mind."
Nick stared at Lacroix a moment, his face expressionless. Then his hands dropped to his belt and he deftly unfastened the buckle, then his fly. His jeans slid down his thighs.
"Does it look like I've changed my mind?" he asked softly.
"No," Lacroix acceded, voice a bit tight, eyes on the straining fabric at the front of Nicholas's briefs.
"So," Nick said briskly, a slanting smile hovering on his lips, "I'm not going to have to come over there and undress you, am I?"
Lacroix raised his eyes from Nick's crotch to his face. Softly, with the slightest smile, he inquired, "Would you like that, Nicholas?"
Nicholas stared into his eyes, then replied, voice low, "No. I'd rather watch you do it."
Lacroix shrugged out of his jacket, tossing it onto the couch behind him. He made quick work of his shirt's buttons and it gaped as he tugged the tails from his pants, then undid his cuffs.
Motionless, Nick watched as Lacroix removed his shirt. His gaze flicked over his broad shoulders, their paleness striking as the black silk slid away, then rested a moment on the column of his throat. He closed his eyes for a bare instant, then opened them again, lips tight as he looked down, stepping out of his jeans, toeing off his shoes. Through their connection, Lacroix had felt the sudden surge of lust, and now felt the struggle his son waged to keep the vampire concealed, under control. He undid his belt, the fastenings of his trousers, and let them slide down his legs.
Lacroix bent over to strip off his shoes and socks, his eyes lowered to his task, not needing to see Nicholas, or even touch their link, to know he remained frozen in his internal conflict. Wary of his passions, his protege wrestled with the suspicion that they were driving him to some act he would regret on the morrow. Lacroix stepped out of his pants, picking them up as he straightened, and tossed them toward the couch. He pushed his shoes off the rug before the fireplace with his foot and glanced up at the skylight. Should Nicholas back out now, he had perhaps fifteen minutes before the sun rose, to reach shelter.
He dropped his gaze to find himself staring directly into Nicholas's dark blue eyes. With his unmoving protege's hard, glittering stare upon him, he slipped his fingers in the waistband of his undergarment and slid them down his thighs. Stooping, he freed his legs from the silky scrap of fabric, then rose with it in one hand. He met Nicholas's eyes, then his son dropped his gaze, trailing it down over his body, before it came to rest on his groin. His erection, released from his briefs, arced forward, and under Nicholas's eyes, it continued to lift and swell. He turned, his briefs balled in his fist, to toss them onto the couch with his pants. Nicholas growled deep in his throat, and Lacroix glanced back at him, to find his gaze had shifted from his crotch to his backside. Mouth quirking up at the corners a bit, he continued his turn, pivoting around slowly, giving Nicholas a good look at him. His ass, hard and lean like the rest of his body, immortalized just after months of walking and riding in a long campaign, seemed to have caught his son's attention.
As he completed his turn, Nicholas's eyes lifted again, searching his face, perhaps for signs of mockery. Apparently, he found none there, as his fingers suddenly came to life on his own shirt buttons, flicking them open. Lacroix's eyes roved over Nicholas's revealed torso, his fingers remembering the feeling of that light, golden fuzz under their tips, those pale pink nipples rising beneath them. Nick dropped his shirt, then his hands went to the waistband of his briefs.
"Nicholas-" Lacroix found himself saying. His son's brows rose in silent inquiry, his fingers still at his hips. Lacroix stepped slowly toward him, stopping when a single pace separated them. Nick's face remained expressionless.
"Let me, Nicholas," Lacroix requested softly. Nicholas stood still a moment, then with a small smile, dropped his hands to his sides. With a tiny answering smile of his own, Lacroix knelt, his hands going at the same time to the brief's waistband at Nicholas's hips. He heard Nick take a long, slow breath. His protege's lavish endowments strained at the black satin, damp with the fluids of his arousal, and he leaned in to inhale gently. Nicholas's muskiness filled his mouth with saliva, and his erection swelled to an excruciating hardness, an echoing pang twingeing his fangs. He nuzzled the slick fabric, his lips sliding up the rigid shaft beneath it.
"Lacroix..." Nick whispered tightly, his hands clenching at his sides. Sighing softly, the elder vampire leaned back slightly, and carefully eased Nicholas's waistband over his erection and down. His son made an inarticulate noise in the back of his throat as his cock sprang free, and Lacroix eyed the long shaft bobbing before his face as he shoved the other's briefs down around his ankles. Nick lifted his feet to step out of them, and Lacroix glanced upward at his face. His son's sexual excitement blazed in their link, but that very intensity made it difficult for him to perceive what exactly Nicholas wished to happen next. Opening his lips, he leaned forward again, still looking up into his protege's eyes. He seemed to have no inclination to deny him, so Lacroix gently set his lips on the head of Nicholas's cock, his tongue tip darting forward to taste the fluid oozing from the slit. Nick released a long, shuddering breath and Lacroix slid his lips completely over the silky slickness of the glans, twirling his tongue to push back the foreskin.
With a low growl, Nicholas pumped his hips forward, shoving himself deep into Lacroix's throat. Lacroix swallowed, the muscles gripping convulsively on Nick, whose growl softened into a yearning moan as he let the pleasure take him, any remaining resistance evaporating. Lacroix's eyes closed as he felt the tension leave his son's body, and his hands came up to grip his hips at the same time Nick's came to rest lightly on his head.
Lacroix pushed him back, the soft velvety skin under his lips stretched taut over the iron hard shaft beneath. Then he pulled him forward again, the meaty weight sliding over his tongue working an appreciative growl from him. He was abruptly, effectively, silenced as his breath was blocked by the cock in his throat. Nicholas's testicles bumped up against his chin and curling pubic hairs tickled his lips.
"Lacroix..." Nicholas whispered again, his fingers moving caressingly over his bristling hair. Lacroix pulled back, sucking hard, then they were moving together, Nick moaning as his grip tightened on Lacroix's head, his hips pumping in a swinging, quickening rhythm. His low, steady growl regularly interrupted as his throat was filled, drool trickling from the corners of his mouth and down his chin, Lacroix ran his hands up and down Nicholas's thighs, reaching behind him to grip his buttocks, urging him on. He rasped his tongue along the underside of the plunging shaft, the slick muscles of his throat clenching it hard. Nicholas's ecstatic sighs sang in his ears, and he braced himself to take the spasms of his son's ejaculation. Then Nicholas's fingers tightened painfully on his hair.
"Wait, wait," he panted, roughly pushing Lacroix's head away from his crotch. The elder vampire bit back a snarl as the other's cock was pulled from him. Then Nicholas was collapsing to his knees before him, his hands still gripping his head and pulling their lips and teeth together in a clacking, bruising kiss. Nicholas's tongue probed deep, and moaning, he ground his iron hard erection painfully into Lacroix's belly when he tasted the tang of his own pre-seminal fluids in the other's mouth. Sucking on Nick's invading tongue, Lacroix pulled his nails up the taut muscles of the other's back, not quite breaking the skin.
Nick jerked away from Lacroix's mouth again, lowering his head to the other's chest, his tongue flicking hard over a nipple, bringing it to tight erectness before clamping his teeth on it. Lacroix gasped at the burn, and Nicholas began shoving him back, not releasing the bud of flesh. Lacroix rolled, grabbing Nick's head to keep his mouth tight against him, the intense sensation flaring at his breast kicking up an answering throb in his groin. They sprawled on the rug, Nick on top of Lacroix, back arched to keep his teeth on Lacroix's nipple as he ground down against his pelvis. Lacroix thrust up, their rigid cocks rolling over one another before they ended up nestled together, rubbing over bellies becoming slick with pre-cum as Nick pumped his hips. Lacroix ran his hands down his son's back to grip his buttocks, his nails biting lightly into Nick's skin as the muscles bunched rhythmically under his palms.
Lacroix gasped again as Nicholas pulled back, letting the nipple slide slowly from between his teeth, then descended to suckle hard, tongue a flickering flame. He shifted his mouth to the other breast, bringing a hand up to continue working on the spit-slick bud, pinching, twisting. Lacroix spread his legs, drawing them up, his hard thighs clamping on Nicholas's hips, moaning as the fire in his chest blazed down to his groin. He thrust upward, and Nicholas, with a choking snarl, reared onto his knees, between Lacroix's legs. Grabbing Lacroix's knee with his left hand, he pushed it back toward his chest. His other hand went to his mouth. Lacroix's eyes closed as the tantalizing scent of his son's blood filled his nose, the spaces behind his face, as Nicholas bit open his fingers. He heard Nick spit, and he opened his eyes again, his hand coming up to lightly stroke his own penis, mirroring his son's motions as he slathered himself with the blood/saliva mix in his palm.
Then with practiced, flowing ease, they moved together, Nick sliding up closer as Lacroix lifted his right leg, resting his ankle on Nick's shoulder, his left leg curling around his back. Nick's right hand was on his own cock, pushing down to direct it to Lacroix's anus, his left arm curling around the leg tossed up to his shoulder, bracing himself against it as he leaned forward. He paused a moment, glancing down into Lacroix's face.
Lacroix met his eyes, and kept his gaze locked on Nicholas's while he pressed the head of his cock against Lacroix's asshole, flexing his hips forward. Typically, Lacroix would close his eyes at this point, awash in the physical sensations of being entered and filled. Or he would watch Nicholas's face with eyes half closed, enjoying the interplay of expressions crossing his mobile features as his pleasure engulfed him. Now, as he took a long, deep breath, the pressure of the blunt head of his protege's cock pushing against his sphincter fiery, he persisted in his visual contact with Nicholas, eyes open, direct. Nick's glance slid away, flicking down to his mouth, back up into the ice blue gaze, then back to his mouth. Lacroix let his breath out in a long, silent sigh, easing the burning ache as Nick shoved slowly through the resistant ring of muscle.
Nicholas gasped raggedly, as the head of his cock popped through Lacroix's sphincter, the slickness beyond it engulfing him as the muscles clamped down hard on his shaft behind. His face contorting, eyes clamped shut, he took a number of harsh, rapid breaths, struggling to hold back his impending orgasm. Lacroix froze beneath him, avoiding the slightest movement that would precipitate Nicholas's climax before he wished it. A long moment later, Nick's features relaxed, as he exhaled in an easy, drawn out gust. Eyes still closed, he began pressing forward again.
"Nicholas..." Lacroix whispered, and releasing his own cock, he reached down with both hands to lightly stroke the other's flanks with his fingertips. Nick became still again, then opened his eyes to meet Lacroix's. He stared down at him, brow furrowed slightly, then Lacroix felt the thrum of their bond as Nicholas looked at him, became connected to him. A small but genuine smile passed across Nick's face.
"All right," he murmured, finally accepting all that was offered. Then he leaned over, Lacroix's ass lifting, his lower back curving up, as Nick pushed his thighs toward his chest. He deftly rearranged Lacroix's legs as he did so, so that when his hands came to rest on the floor on either side of Lacroix's hips, the man's knees were hooked in the crooks of his elbows. He leaned forward, his own legs extended behind him, his weight on his toes and hands, holding a push-up position over Lacroix's curled body for an instant. Then he ground his hips down toward Lacroix's ass. Lacroix moaned softly as Nick's full length buried itself deep in his bowels, and the younger vampire gave him a moment to attempt to adjust to the thick rigidness filling him. Then he eased out again, the incredibly tight grip of Lacroix's sphincter sliding up his shaft forcing an involuntary groan from his lips.
Lacroix wedged his hand between them, grabbing his cock again, applying almost ruthless friction. Nicholas was not going to last long, and he'd have to work fast to catch up. The sensations inundating him through their bond helped considerably. He groaned as Nicholas drove himself down, hard, impaling him again. Nick, the blue of his stare engulfed by flaming amber, responded with a rasping snarl, and eased himself out slowly one last time, shifting back a bit, changing the angle of his hips.
His next thrust pounded down on Lacroix's prostate, and Lacroix growled in response, and continued to growl as Nicholas began pistoning into him, the powerful, rapid blows thumping against his prostate each time. The liquid melting pleasure in his guts mingled with the more insistent heat his hand jerked from his cock, and his Change swept over him. His burning eyes locked with Nick's and they exchanged a full chested, fang flashing snarl. Lacroix clenched the cock hammering inside him as tightly as he could, and Nicholas's snarls became an open throated roar as he spasmed, red-gold eyes rolling back, shattered by ecstasy.
Lacroix's free hand shot up as he tossed his head back, grabbing the nape of Nick's neck and yanking his mouth down to his own throat. He shuddered as the waves of Nicholas's bliss crashed over his mind, singing through every nerve in his body, and a searing rush of sweet agony erupted from his balls through his pulsing cock and over his belly and chest as his son tore open his throat. He twisted his head around and buried his fangs deep into the curve of Nicholas's neck.
Over a century had passed since he'd last had Nicholas's blood in his mouth, and the golden fire of it bursting over his tongue ignited his flesh and he came again, rackingly, body bucking beneath his son's. Another slow, wrenching tumble of ecstasy thundered through their bond from Nicholas in response.
Awash in this chaos of bliss, he felt Nicholas clutch at him, both physically and mentally. His first impulse was to shove him away, to allow him to get no closer. His own desires, his true will, stopped him. There were no secrets left, none worth keeping. He enfolded Nicholas, was enfolded. The pain of wounded hearts, wounded spirits - twisting, coiling barbs - tore them both, but they gripped ever tighter, drawing the other in fiercely, striving for that blood welling from the core. It surged over them, through them, from them; the primal, unreasoning force that bound them together, possessed them both. Conscious only of the other, they floated, suspended an instant, an eternity, in their mingled bloods.
Lacroix came to himself, Nicholas's weight on his chest and his tongue slowly, languorously, cleansing his throat. He squirmed a bit, his groin, his ass, still suffused with a humming heat, and ran his hands up Nick's blood-sweat slick back. His son's energies were quite ... explosive. He sighed when Nicholas stopped licking at his throat and eased off him, stretching like a great cat once before collapsing limply beside him. The elder vampire twisted onto his side, the removal of his support causing Nick to roll from his own side to his belly. Lacroix pillowed his head on his arm, reaching out with the other hand to trail his hand up and down the long, hard bands of muscle of Nicholas's back; smoothing, soothing. Nick's ribs expanded as he drew in a long breath, then he released the air in a gust, seeming to melt into the thick rug beneath them. Lacroix's fingertips traced the fading red scores his nails had marked in the fine, white skin. They followed the valley of Nicholas's spine down to the flat triangle at its base that pointed to the cleft of his buttocks. He let his palm skim lightly over the round, peach-fuzzed cheek closest to him. To his own amazement, a sweet burst of energy flared in his groin, and his penis stirred, nudging against Nicholas's hip. He eased away slightly, not wanting to destroy the peace of the moment, though he couldn't resist one last circling caress. The firm globe lifted, pressed itself into his palm. He shot a quick look at Nicholas's face, and found a wicked smile curving his mouth.
"Do you want that?" Nick asked, voice low.
Lacroix studied his face, more for the pleasure he took from that relaxed, playful expression, than for puzzling out his thoughts. "A foregone conclusion, Nicholas. As you know," he replied, smiling slightly himself.
"Why don't you take it, then?"
"Does it wish to be taken?" Lacroix removed his hand, placing it palm down on the plush carpet.
"Does it matter?" Nick rolled onto his side, shifting himself to mirror Lacroix's position. He continued to smile doggedly, perhaps expecting Lacroix to escape the question with a cutting quip.
"Yes, Nicholas. It has always mattered." He paused, then added softly. "With you."
Nick stared into Lacroix's eyes a moment. Lacroix watched his mouth, as the lips parted, twitching slightly, knowing the word "why" hovered in the space behind his teeth. When Nicholas's characteristic grin slanted across his face, his jaws clamping shut to imprison that question, Lacroix couldn't tell if the twist in his guts came from relief or disappointment. He inhaled sharply as Nicholas's fingers stroked lightly up his partially erect phallus.
"Fuck me, then," Nick demanded, voice suddenly husky. His fingers closed on Lacroix's rapidly stiffening cock, his grin becoming roguish. "Unless you've changed your mind."
In reply, Lacroix slid closer, pressing skin against skin, and then rolled, bearing Nicholas down under him. Nick tensed beneath him and Lacroix lowered his head to kiss that tempting mouth slowly, languorously. After a moment, Nicholas let out a shuddering breath and relaxed under him, his lips softening, responding. Lacroix eased back to gaze into his son's eyes.
"I hope you don't mind if I take my time," he murmured.
"Time..?" Nick queried, with a slight trace of concern, perhaps recalling that Lacroix had his own concept of "taking one's time." One hand came up to trace a light finger over Lacroix's lower lip.
"We have all day, after all," he replied, mouth quirking up at the corners with his own recollections of encounters which had run considerably longer than a day. The finger on his lip found a series of nerves which were apparently connected directly to his groin.
Nick began to chuckle, his head rolling back and forth. "No, I don't mind, Lacroix. Please yourself."
"Oh, I intend to do more than that," Lacroix assured him, voice soft with silken promise. Nicholas's eyes closed and Lacroix felt the other's penis swell to rigidity against his thigh. He lowered his head again, setting a tiny kiss on the corner of Nicholas's mouth, then moving to kiss the other side before centering his lips on a pair that met his own with a gratifying eagerness.
Sighing, Nick slipped his tongue tip forward to run along Lacroix's lips. Lacroix met his tongue with his own and they dueled lightly a moment before Nick's slid past, between Lacroix's teeth, to rub them slowly. Lacroix sucked gently, drawing Nicholas's tongue in deeper, as he eased his body to one side, bringing one hand up to caress a nipple with light fingertips. He broke from the kiss to trail his open mouth over Nick's jaw, then languidly along his jugular.
"Hnnn..." Nick breathed, eyes closing, chin tilting up. Lacroix exhaled long and slow over the sensitive skin of his throat, while he stroked his open palm across his son's chest, more lightly over the belly still slightly tacky with his ejaculate. Nick gently undulated under him, eyes still closed, mouth curving into a pleased smile. Lacroix continued his stroking, enjoying the smooth skin under his hand as much as Nicholas was the caresses, as he set light kisses over his collar bone and down to his nipple. Like a parched sponge, Nick soaked up the sensations, the life of a celibate ascetic having left him too long without the touching, the slide of skin upon skin, that his sensual temperament demanded. Lacroix refused to let his frustration over Nicholas's self-denial rise in him, instead focusing his entire attention on the flesh under his hands, under his lips, the nipple crinkling beneath them as he teased it erect with his tongue tip.
He was in no hurry, intent as he was on reacquainting himself with every inch of skin on his progeny's body, and having orgasmed once already, Nicholas was enjoying the long, slow re-stoking of both their fires. So it was nearly noon, stretched out between Nicholas's legs, before Lacroix sensed that growing prickle of restlessness from him, signaling that he was ready for something more intense. He propped himself up over one of Nicholas's thighs, cupping the heavy sac of his testicles, looking up into his son's face. His eyes were closed, his lips slightly parted and the faintest hint of a furrow beginning in his brow. Smiling, suddenly feeling the urge to hurry things along himself, he slid his hand up over Nicholas's cock, stirred by the strength with which it lifted into his palm. He stroked up and down the silky skinned shaft, and as it became rigid, he ran his thumb firmly up the ridge on the underside, milking out a gout of pinkish pre-seminal fluid. He lapped this off the head of Nick's penis, savoring the bloody tang before probing the slit with a tongue tip for more.
Nick groaned softly, one hand rubbing over Lacroix's shoulder and biceps as he drew up the leg not being rested upon. Lacroix lipped his foreskin, tugging lightly at the bit of flesh already retracting from Nicholas's swelling glans. As he twirled his tongue around the drooling cock-head, saliva flowing into his mouth at the taste, Lacroix lifted his hand to caress behind Nick's raised knee, then down the back of his thigh. Cupping his buttock, Lacroix lightly ran his thumb over Nick's perineum, over the crease of his ass. Nick's hips lifted, pressing his cock further into Lacroix's mouth at the same time as he gave Lacroix's thumb greater access to the crevice between his buttocks. Lacroix drew his own knees up, turning to come to a crouch between Nick's thighs, his head dipping down as he took the long shaft into his throat, swallowing convulsively.
"Oh, yes," Nicholas groaned as he drew up his other leg. Lacroix cupped his testicles, drawing hard on the shaft in his mouth, as he rolled the heavy sac in his palm. Nick sudden gripped his left hand, pulling it up to his mouth, engulfing the first two fingers, sucking, curling his tongue around them, between them, before pulling away to lick across the palm. A frisson of lust danced up Lacroix's spine, and he moaned softly around Nicholas's cock, as the slick wetness laved across his wrist, teasing the pulse-point. He rubbed his finger down the crack of Nick's ass, sliding easily on a thin stream of drool. He shivered at the pricking of his son's feeding teeth on the tender flesh of his wrist, that same wrist Nicholas had torn so brutally to get at his blood that first time, the night of his rebirth. Nick's chest rumbled as Lacroix's fingertip found his anus, circling it, and he spread and lifted his knees wider, so he could be reached more easily. His fangs scraped, but did not pierce, the thin barrier to the veins in Lacroix's wrist. With a shudder, Lacroix pulled that hand away, bracing himself on the floor with it, as he reached up with his right, offering the first two fingers of that hand to Nicholas's mouth. He watched from under his brows, his own mouth busy in the savoring of his protege's phallus, as Nick set his lips around his fingertips, slowly drawing the digits in. Eyes locking with Lacroix's, he sucked the fingers deep, working them with his tongue, his lips quirking up at the corners as Lacroix moaned softly at the sullen ache in his own cock.
Lacroix retrieved his fingers, dripping with Nick's spit, and reached down again to the crease in his ass, running slick fingertips over the puckered hole. Nick grunted, his knees going back further, then Lacroix was pressing his finger through that tightly clenched ring. Nicholas let out a long silent breath as Lacroix reached deep, then pressed upward, finding the prostate.
"Oh, yeah," Nick sighed, his eyes closing at the sudden burst of pleasure, his cock jerking in Lacroix's mouth. Carefully, with delicate precision, Lacroix slid his finger in and out of Nick's body, lightly caressing the sensitive gland within, his lips and tongue gliding smoothly over his phallus. Moaning softly, Nicholas undulated his hips, moving in, with, Lacroix's mouth, then pressing himself down on his finger. He reached down to stroke Lacroix's hair, then to trail his fingers over his tautly stretched jaw, the shifting muscles of his throat. Lacroix looked up his torso, watching as his other hand roved over his own chest, tweaking his nipples into pink-flushed points.
"Oh, good," Nick crooned, his deep, husky voice sending a sweet rush of lust through Lacroix's body. "Oh, yeahhhh, good. More. More, Lacroix." He groaned ecstatically as a second finger joined the first, and the ache in Lacroix's groin and teeth became a glorious burn. Lacroix wondered a moment if he could achieve orgasm just listening to the sounds Nicholas made. A series of soft, breathy grunts as he rapidly pumped his pelvis, working Lacroix's fingers deeper into his ass and his cock further down Lacroix's throat, nearly convinced the elder vampire that he could. Then Nicholas's second hand came down to join the first, resting on either side of Lacroix's face.
"Let me turn, Lacroix," he requested, a bit breathless. "I want it from behind."
He allowed Nicholas to lift his mouth from his cock, not without a tiny twinge of regret. Maybe later. He sat back on his heels, carefully withdrawing his fingers, and Nick sat up, scooting back a bit, before coming up onto his knees. Lacroix had barely managed to wipe his mouth and chin with the back of his hand, before Nicholas leaned forward, one hand on Lacroix's thigh, the other trailing up his hard, arcing phallus. The elder vampire gasped softly, his hips rising to meet the other's hand, then Nick's mouth was on his, silencing him. A tongue was flicked rapidly against his teeth, deft fingers squeezed a burst of pleasure from his cock, then Nick broke away again, pivoting on his knees to turn his back to him.
Lacroix quickly slid up behind him, holding him upright, wrapping his arms around Nicholas's chest, pressing his torso against his back, while his cock nestled in the crevice between his buttocks. He nuzzled the spot under Nick's ear, while the other sighed, arching his neck, exposing the strong column of his throat. Lacroix let a hand slip down to cup his testicles while the other palm made light circles across his breast.
"I thought you said you wanted this," Nick said softly, eyes closing, his hands coming to rest behind him, on Lacroix's thighs. He gently bumped his ass back against the other's groin.
"I did say that," Lacroix murmured into his ear, voice rich with his passions. He felt Nicholas shiver in his arms, and he curled his fist around his son's straining cock, rubbed a thumb over a nipple.
"Now, Lacroix," Nicholas whispered. Less gently, he twisted his hips, jamming the rigid shaft more firmly between his cheeks. Lacroix moaned softly, his hands moving to grip Nick's hips. His heart lurched, sending a painful echoing pulse to his groin and his teeth, as Nicholas bent forward, placing his hands on the carpet.
Lacroix bent himself, his hands skimming over Nicholas's buttocks, circling the taut globes as he set a kiss at the base of his spine. Nick quivered, his head ducking down as Lacroix's tongue laved down the crease of his ass, to rub his anus. He moaned softly as the tongue was replaced with a gently inserted finger and louder as the second finger joined it, eager for the stretching, the pressure.
Nick's sphincter clenched spasmodically as Lacroix slid the third finger in, then, as his maker caressed his back, softened around them as he let out a long, shuddering sigh. Lacroix bent again, bringing his mouth down to his own wrist, flicking his fangs down to slash deeply across the veins there. Blood gushed, quickly filling his palm and he straightened, tilting his hand so the thick crimson fluid poured through the channel made by his three fingers pressed together, into Nicholas's body.
As Lacroix watched, the muscles in Nick's shoulders and back knotted and he felt an ... uncoiling within his creation; ravenous, lusting, twisting itself toward him through their link. The scent of his own blood, feral, piercing, drenched the air and Nicholas slowly turned his head. The smoldering amber of his eyes raked him with a sideways glance. Razored points sliced his breath as he rasped, "Do it."
Dark ecstasy rose in Lacroix, suffusing his brain as he slid his fingers from Nicholas, wrapping his bloody fist around his own cock, stroking it to coat it with his slick fluids. He centered himself, staring into the red-gold coal of Nicholas's eye. Gripping Nick's hips, he pressed his pelvis forward, pushing slowly through the tight ring of muscle. He drove on steadily as Nicholas snarled beneath him, keeping the invading pressure just short of pain, giving Nick just enough time to accommodate him, knowing his son craved the intensity. The slick constriction around his iron hard cock wrenched a low, continuous moan from him.
All too soon his hip bones were wedged into the meat of Nick's buttocks, and though the man before him was gasping in his effort to contain him, for the first time in his life, Lacroix found himself wishing for a longer tool so he could continue that luscious inward slide. They paused a moment, both of them absorbed in the sensation of their conjoined flesh. Then with a low growl, Nick leaned forward slightly, as Lacroix pulled back. They plunged together again, meeting with a dull slap, then they found themselves in a familiar rhythm, Nick bucking back into Lacroix's thrusts. Shifting slightly so that the head of his cock thumped against his prostate won Lacroix an ecstatic shout from Nicholas and he growled an avid response. Looking down, he watched his cock, dark with his own blood, disappear again and again into Nicholas's body, and he reached out one hand, raking his nails down the back before him. Blood welled up in the shallow wounds, bright red against the white skin, as Nicholas snarled at the fierce burn. His snarl deepened, strengthened, as the scent of his blood mixed with that of Lacroix's already in the air. He rammed back harder, forcing Lacroix to brace himself. Exulting at his son's complete passionate release, he reached under Nicholas's belly to take up his cock. Drooling pre-cum, it slid through his fist and Nick howled his delight. Lacroix closed his eyes, intent on blending his own sensations with those coming through his bond with Nicholas.
The white blaze of pleasure burst in his mind at the same time as Nicholas's rigid cock erupted in his hand, spurting through his fingers. He grunted, the force of it like a blow, and breath stolen, he was completely silent as he exploded deep in Nicholas's body, wave after wave of sharp, sweet agony surging through his cock, thundering up his spine to fracture in his mind. Dimly, he heard Nicholas roaring his bliss, and then his hunger seized him, demanding its own release. He pulled out, shoving Nick forward at the same time as his son twisted, turning with a lithe inhuman grace, to lunge, fanged mouth gaping, for his throat. He crushed Nicholas against his chest and felt arms like padded steel circling his torso as ecstasy speared the curve where his neck and shoulder met and his life rushed into his son's mouth. His own fangs tore into the arteries under Nick's ear.
Lacroix did scream then, muffled against Nicholas's throat, as the liquid fire blazed through his body, turning his veins into livid, hot wires. The shock Nicholas felt as he swallowed darkly raging incandescence reverberated back through Lacroix. Then the blended power of both their bloods crashed over them with a force beyond any they'd felt before and they were dragged by the consuming undertow to a place without thought.
Lacroix awoke for a few moments in the mid-afternoon, studied the face nestled on his shoulder. Pleasure, release, had washed away the aging strain, and Nicholas looked no more than a youth of eighteen. "Mon fils," he murmured, near soundlessly. He fell into silence a moment, then said, even more softly, "Mon frere." He let the weight of day draw him back down into sleep.
It was just before dusk when he woke again, as Nick stirred and then sat up. He opened his eyes to see Nicholas looking down at him, sitting with his arms resting across his upraised knees. Lacroix smiled slightly, gazing back as he tucked one hand under his head. His smile was not returned and after a moment, Nick stated clearly, "Lacroix. This doesn't change anything."
Lacroix studied him for a moment. He understood what he meant; that he had no intent of giving up his search for mortality, that Lacroix was not to see this ... interlude as any kind of a concession on his part. Nick's lips tightened as his heavy gaze rested upon him and at last Lacroix said quietly, "The blood in my veins says otherwise, Nicholas."
Nick blinked, shifted, his lips parting, closing, and then opening to say, "The blood..."
"Your blood, Nicholas. The blood in my veins. And what of mine in yours? What is it telling you?"
"It's faded," Nick replied, looking away. "It's ... fading." Then he turned his gaze back to Lacroix's face. "I know..." he began, voice low, then he stopped. After a long pause, he went on. "It was what we both wanted."
Lacroix searched his face, let his mind touch their strengthened bond. His mouth curved in a slight smile and he reached out his hand to rest it lightly on Nicholas's, clasped at his knees.
"Thank you, Nicholas," he said softly.
"You're welcome," Nick replied, voice equally soft. They held each other in a level look a moment, then Lacroix rolled up onto his feet.
"I'd best be gone." Nick's lips parted, but he said nothing, watching Lacroix dress in silence. He rose as the other shrugged into his jacket, and walked over to stand before him. Lacroix's brows lifted, really noting for the first time Nicholas's blood smudged face. He smiled, saying, "Best tidy up before any visitors descend."
Nick grinned back, chuckling. "You could do with a bit of sprucing up yourself, Lacroix." The elder vampire ran a hand over a sticky mouth and chin and caught a heady whiff of Nicholas's dried ejaculate from his fingers. He slowly lowered the hand, clasping it with the other before him.
"Good night, Nicholas."
"Good night, Lacroix." Lacroix blinked then, at a sudden burst of warmth projected, albeit clumsily from lack of practice, through his bond with his son. He reached out to lightly touch Nicholas's cheek, then with a whoosh of displaced air, he was gone.
Nick stood stock still a long moment, then looked around the loft. He needed to pick up and get showered and dressed before Nat got there. And she'd be here at some point, worried about why he'd lied to Tracy about being sick and ditched work. He studied the blood-stains on the carpet. His nostrils flared. Nat wouldn't be able to tell, to smell his and Lacroix's blood mingled, redolent with lust. But she might wonder about the pinkish streaks, the spatters of paler semen, which couldn't be explained by a dropped glass. He smiled. Actually, it would take many dropped glasses to explain the extent of the dark blotches. He'd roll the rug up and store it in the garage until he could get it cleaned. Gathering his clothes, a shimmer of memory passed though his mind, of a scolding given him and Lacroix by Janette over a carpet of hers they'd stained in the same manner. Smiling, he crossed to the stairs, chancing to glance into the kitchen. He shook his head, his smile deepening, at the case of bottles Lacroix had left, no doubt intentionally, on the counter. He'd put them away, save them for Lacroix. For later. One thing you could count on with Lacroix; there would always be a later.
FIN
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This page was created using WebEdit, Thursday Dec. 18, 1997
Most recent revision Thursday Dec. 18, 1997