Author's note:
Just a romp for my fellow Unnameds, dedicated especially to
Illinois Cousin Jules, who's not completely up to snuff. (Arcane
waving of the big juju honey stick, cinnamon flavored, of course,
in her general direction.) Thanks ever so to Kathy and Karies for
putting up with my incessant demands for beta-readers. My
appreciation to that other group whose high-jinks dropped this
idea in my head in the first place. Do you know who you are?
Naaahh.
Nick/Lacroix, explicit sexual activity. Standard disclaimers.
Submarine Races by Leslie G. S.
The night air, soft with the first traces of spring, tugged at Nick's
hair. Every so often he would glance up, inhaling deeply,
drinking in the stars, the same stars that had arced over his head
for the past 8 centuries. Perhaps it was some gentle vernal
magic, but that thought held no bitterness tonight. He drove
aimlessly, his thoughts following an equally directionless path.
A month ago, only a month ago, he had given himself over to
death, driven by grief and guilt, and a blind faith in Nat's faith.
Lacroix, always the monkey-wrench in the works, had given him
temporary oblivion with a blow upside the head with that
damned shillelagh and rushed Nat to the ER. Nat, still
recovering, had placed everything on hold while she came to
terms with the events of that night. She had not turned Nick
away, however. Through her reserve, he could still see her
concern and caring for him. This gave him hope that all was not
lost between them. He could afford to give her time, all the time
she needed.
Another interesting turn of events that came from that night,
built on a number of incidents from the past year, was his
growing accord with Lacroix. The man was no longer pushing or
pulling. He was just...there. Disconcerting, that, like a brick
wall he had been shoving against for eons had abruptly vanished,
leaving him to fall flat on his face. Sometimes it felt as if he
were floating, without support, a constant having suddenly
vanished from his life. Not that Lacroix had disappeared. He
saw him fairly frequently. But their conversations, while
interesting, were impersonal, seemingly without Lacroix's usual
hidden agenda. They had even played a number of games of
chess.
The caddy rocked as a sudden weight settled in the passenger
seat. Nick jumped, jerking the wheel sharply, but as there was
no other traffic on this particular stretch of road, the caddy's
swerve was without consequence.
"Lacroix!" he blurted.
"Good evening, Nicholas. I chanced to be passing by, saw your
vehicle and decided to drop in. I'll leave if I'm intruding."
"No," Nick found himself answering, "no, you're not intruding."
"Good," Lacroix replied with some pleasure.
They drove in silence for a few minutes before Lacroix spoke
again.
"Any particular destination?"
"No. No. I'm just...cruising. Thinking."
"Ah."
Nick's wanderings, now feeling not quite so lonely for some
reason, lead him back through the center of town. Waiting at a
red light with his silent companion, a large sedan came to a
rather sudden halt beside them. Both Nick and Lacroix glanced
over at the car, which proved to be full of a crowd of teen-agers.
The two couples in the front seat, laughing wildly, were
watching in the rear view mirror as another couple in the back
seat kissed and groped rather extravagantly. Nick chuckled,
while Lacroix smiled, studying the amorous children with some
interest. The light turned green and the other car peeled out, the
caddy following more sedately.
After a few minutes, Lacroix stated thoughtfully, "You know,
I've been living in North America on and off for over century, but
I've never had occasion to indulge in that quaint native custom
of...making out in an automobile."
For some reason, Nick wasn't surprised. Nevertheless, he said,
"Oh, really? I never would have thought."
"Have *you*?" Lacroix inquired lightly, glancing over at him.
"Um," Nick replied, lips curling in an involuntary grin. "A few
times, yes."
Lacroix nodded, then looked up at the stars above them. He
studied them intently, taking in a few deep breaths of soft spring
air, then rolled his head on the seat back to look at Nick.
"At my age," he mused, "there are so few `firsts' left, Nicholas."
Nick glanced over at the man again, his brow slightly furrowed.
Then he started as Lacroix's hand slid over his thigh.
"I was wondering, Nicholas," he murmured, "if you would be
willing to have this `first' of mine." His lips bent into a droll
curve. "After all, I've had so many of yours. It only seems
fair."
Nick stared at Lacroix, jaw slack, not sure he was understanding
what Lacroix was asking of him. But the man's fingernails
sliding up and down the inseam of his jeans left little room for
interpretation.
"You...you wanna...make out? In my car? With me?" The last
word came out a bit squeakier than his dignity liked.
"Nicholas, I believe you've placed your vehicle in the path of on-
coming traffic."
"Wha-? Sh-!" Nick jerked the caddy back into his lane, the
blare of a panicked driver's horn dopplering off behind them. He
licked his lips, readjusted his grip on the wheel and staring rigidly
forward, took a deep breath. Lacroix hadn't...increased his
attentions, but his hand was still on Nick's thigh, stroking gently.
"What if...what if I say no?" he squeezed out.
Lacroix removed his hand, and folded it with the other in his lap.
Cupped over his groin, their whiteness was a stark contrast to
the black fabric of his trousers. He looked straight out the
windshield and said calmly, "Then you say no, Nicholas. And
that's that."
"Oh. That's...that's fine, then," Nick replied a bit senselessly,
rather taken aback. They drove on in silence for a few minutes,
the younger vampire shooting glances at the placid face of his
maker.
At last he ventured, "What...what brought all this on?"
"Oh, nothing momentous, really. The...events of the last few
months seem to have brought at least a slight lessening of
the...tension between us." He smiled slightly. "Perhaps it's just
the scents of spring. But...old memories have been stirred. And
you know how compelling those can be for us."
"Yes." Nick's voice was muted, soft.
"I find my mind turning to...certain events, certain sensations."
He paused, his eyelids drooping, his nostrils flaring slightly.
"Your...scent, that earthy, almost sandalwood odor of your
arousal."
Nick flicked Lacroix a glance out of the corner of one eye.
The timbre of Lacroix's voice dropped. "The velvet of a peach
under my palms as they move over your buttocks."
Nick's eyes widened, his brows climbing.
"The tight buds of your nipples under my fingertips."
Jaw dropping, Nick turned to stare at the other man, unable to
believe what he was hearing.
"Your hands, hard and swift, urging me to climax," Lacroix went
on softly, relentlessly. "Your teeth, pricking on the skin of my
throat, teasing, teasing, withholding that release."
A humming built in Nick's ears, reality shifting, sliding, Lacroix's
voice slowing, echoing as he savored his own words.
"The silken skin of your phallus on my lips and tongue as you
slide deep into my mouth, the flood of ambrosia as you spend
your seed into me......"
...Paris...no more than a week after Lacroix had brought him into
this new life...Janette's impish smile at his astonishment, as
Lacroix sank serenely to his knees before him...the cold stone
against his naked back and buttocks...Lacroix's breath tickling
through the golden thatch of his pubic hairs...the shock of
Lacroix's mouth on him, his tongue and lips working on him with
a scandalous efficiency...his hands clutching the head at his
crotch, the hair bristling under his palms...the maddening slow
build toward mind-numbing pleasure...his own gasped pleas for
release...tearing Lacroix's offered wrist with aching fangs,
sucking in that dizzying, dark power...the final shattering
explosion, hanging fragmented forever...being swallowed,
drained dry as he spilled bliss again and again down Lacroix's
avid throat...the gradual return to sense, finding himself held
upright against the wall, the now standing Lacroix's hand in the
center of his laboring chest...the man's slow, roguish grin, as
silently he drew the back of his hand across his mouth, then
delicately licked it clean...Lacroix's swift, still silent departure,
leaving him stunned, alone with the giggling Janette...
He returned to the present with a moan for the fierce ache in his
groin, then gasping, quickly checked his position on the road.
His speed was a tad excessive, but he was in his own lane. He
slowed as Lacroix withdrew the two fingers he had placed on the
edge of the steering wheel. He glanced over at the man, who
smiled at him placidly.
"S - sorry," Nick mumbled.
"I quite understand, Nicholas."
Nick checked the traffic around them with rapid, darting glances,
then turned rather sharply down a side street. Lacroix braced
himself with a hand on the dashboard.
"Do you now have a particular destination in mind, Nicholas? I
thought we were just...cruising."
"Submarines races," Nick replied briskly, tugging at the crotch of
his jeans to ease the constriction.
Lacroix turned to look at him, expression one of complete
bafflement. "Did...did you say `submarine races'?"
"Yeah," Nick replied, grinning widely. "Submarine races. Let's
go watch `em."
Lacroix shifted uneasily in his seat. "Perhaps it would be best if
you returned home, had a little something to drink. Cow, of
course. We could play a nice, relaxing game of chess."
Nick laughed. "I thought you wanted to indulge yourself in a
certain quaint North American custom."
Lacroix slid Nicholas a dangerous look, sure now he was being
mocked. Nick rapidly explained, still smiling broadly. "The kids,
when they wanna make out, park down by the lake for privacy.
They call it `watching the submarine races'."
Lacroix studied Nick for a moment, then his lips quirked up into a
smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I...see," he drawled.
"By all means, let us go watch the races."
Nick parked the caddy on the edge of the lake, the lateness of
the hour guaranteeing their privacy. The two men sat silently a
moment, the light lapping of the waves against the shore, the
melancholy clang of a buoy and the ticking of the cooling engine
loud in the stillness.
"Now what?" inquired Lacroix politely.
"Uh, well, we, uh, you know. Make out." His groin still
throbbed with unrelieved lust. It had been a long time, a very
long time since he'd had sex of any kind and it wasn't an activity
he cared to do without. But he had cooled somewhat since his
impulsive decision to accede to Lacroix request.
"Well, no, I don't know, Nicholas. Precisely. Wouldn't the
steering wheel be an awkwardness?" He gestured toward said
object with both hands.
"We...we get in the back."
"Ah. The better to see the submarines." Lacroix half-stepped,
half-levitated onto the seat behind him. "Are you coming?"
"Why the hell not?" muttered Nick, levering himself out from
behind the wheel and onto the seat next to Lacroix.
"I think I can figure it out from here, Nicholas. If I may." He
reached for the buttons on Nick's shirt, his fingers dancing
quickly down his front, the garment falling open as if by magic.
Slowly, Nick lifted his hands to Lacroix's throat, undoing the top
buttons with a dreamy sense of unreality. Desire coiled sweetly
in his belly, his cock straining for release against his zipper,
Lacroix's fingertips trailing across his chest awakening feelings
both strange and familiar.
"Lie back, Nicholas," Lacroix whispered, pushing him down
gently. "Just lie back. Let me...play for a while."
Nick acquiesced as there was no point in arguing, even if he had
the will to do so. The bizarreness of the situation, that he had
actually agreed to have sex with Lacroix after centuries of
antagonism, set everything in an illusory cast. But old memories
shimmered just below the horizon of his awareness, and his body
remember these hands, that mouth, and responded with an
eagerness that overwhelmed reason.
Lacroix's hands worked open the zipper on his jeans, the sudden
lack of constriction getting a sigh from him. "Lift up a bit,
Nicholas," Lacroix murmured, then, "That's it," he encouraged
softly as Nick lifted his hips so Lacroix could slide his pants and
shorts down his thighs. A hum of pleasure rumbled from
Lacroix's chest at the sight of Nick, rampant and ready. He
stripped off his jacket, tossing it carelessly into the front seat.
Then he bent forward over Nick's groin, inhaling luxuriantly.
"Sandalwood," he sighed.
Nick chuckled, then took a deep, relaxed breath as Lacroix's large
hands, so, so familiar, passed over his torso and thighs, strong
yet gentle. He sucked in air through his teeth as Lacroix ran his
tongue tip up the underside of his cock. Then his lips slid over
the head of Nick's phallus, tongue swirling, pushing the foreskin
back, exposing the glans.
"Oh...yeah," Nick sighed, as Lacroix's mouth engulfed him
completely, one hand cupping his scrotum. He surrendered
completely, letting his maker's skill take him where it would.
Lacroix quickly worked him to the brink, then backed off, letting
him hang there, while his hands roved over his belly, chest and
thighs.
"Please, Lacroix," Nick whispered, while his groin throbbed with
a heavy, aching delight.
"We'll get there, my Nicholas," Lacroix promised. "I feel inclined
to...linger along the way, however. I'm sure you understand."
"Lacroix, you talk way, way too much," groaned Nick.
The man chuckled. "You may be right. I'll try to put my mouth
to more worthwhile work."
Again Lacroix applied his lips and tongue to Nick's willing flesh,
sliding slowly down the shaft, savoring with a tongue tip the
fluid oozing from the slit in the head of Nick's cock, sucking
almost painfully on his balls.
Nick had to place both his hands over his own mouth to restrain
the threatening whine when Lacroix again moved away, nibbling
and kissing his way up Nick's torso. He tongued Nick's nipples a
moment, then moved up to his neck. Nick tossed his head back,
staring at the stars above him, quivering in anticipation.
Chuckling, Lacroix set one gentle kiss on Nick's exposed throat,
then slid back down to his chest. Licking, pressing with his
teeth, Lacroix laid his long length against Nick. Nick reached
around him, running his hands up and down the other's silk clad
back, the first caress he had offered. Lacroix paused the barest
moment, then continued slowly swirling his tongue tip around his
nipple. Nick became conscious of the man's groin resting against
his lower thigh, the iron hardness of his erection. He raised his
knee a bit, rocking it slightly. Lacroix exhaled heavily through his
nose, the breath roughened by the shudder that passed through
his body. His teeth fastened on Nick's nipple, bore down slowly,
the burning flare exquisite. Nick cried out, short and sharp, as
his flesh was pierced. Lacroix moaned as his son's blood burst
onto his tongue. He sucked avidly, Nick writhing under him, his
knee grinding into Lacroix's crotch. Lacroix's mouth moved
across the other's chest in a series of something between a kiss
and a bite, his canines tearing skin. He ravaged the other nipple,
while Nick's nails ripped through the silk on his maker's back, his
growl savage and dangerous.
Lacroix glanced up at Nick's face a moment, and the younger
vampire exulted to see the other's eyes aflame. Lacroix began a
slow slide back down Nick's torso, and Nick knew this was it.
Lacroix held onto his control by bare fingertips, the abrupt,
almost brutal bites he laid down Nick's belly told of a passion on
the edge of madness. A terror-laced ecstasy surged though him
as Lacroix's mouth, teeth very much in evidence, closed over his
cock again. Lacroix, Nicholas deep in his throat, paused a
moment, gathering up the shreds of his poise. Slowly, so, so
slowly, with tight restraint, he began moving on Nick again, his
tongue hard on the underside of Nick's penis, the suction firm
and constant. Nick groaned in desperation, wanting to grab
Lacroix's head and thrust upward, to fuck his face with wild,
delirious abandon. His last bit of sense made him reach back,
interlocking his trembling fingers behind his neck. If he could
restrain himself, if he let Lacroix have his way in this, the ecstasy
that followed would be more intense, more protracted than any
brought about by his own clumsy efforts. He trembled on the
brink, rigid, gasping, when the light shattered his world.
Officer Jenks, the father of two teen-aged girls, flashed the
powerful beam of his flashlight into the back of the late-model
caddy with a certain sense of self-righteousness.
"Okay, kids-" he began. The foremost figure, its back to him,
reared up from where it knelt, half in the foot well, half on the
seat, and turned to face him. Jenks, expecting a teen-ager,
inhaled sharply at sight of who he had pinned in his light. A man
in his forties, the skin of his face and his chest, framed by the
black V of his half-opened shirt, remarkably pale. Icy eyes stared
right into his own, past the glare, chillingly intent. Some inner
warning tingle moved Jenks to unconsciously grip the butt of his
gun. The man brought one hand up to his mouth, wiping the
back of it across his lips, removing traces of something
suspiciously red. Alarmed, Jenks quickly shone his light on the
person lying on the seat of the car. That person, another man,
shot a hand up between his eyes and the light. The other hand
was tugging up his jeans. His shirt gaped open completely,
revealing a muscular torso splashed here and there with red,
particularly across the chest.
Jenks managed an authoritative tone, though his eyes flitted
nervously between the kneeling man and the prone. "Sir, lower
your hand, please. Are you all right?"
The hand came down slowly. "I'm - I'm fine. We - it's okay."
Jenks jaw dropped. "Nick? Detective Knight..?"
"Hi, Jenks," Nick offered weakly.
"Well - well, shit, I'm sorry, I didn't know..." Jenks eyes, wide,
drank in the scene, the human delight in scandal lighting up his
face. Nick groaned internally, knowing this would be all over the
wardroom before daybreak. He shot Lacroix a you-got-me-into-
this-you-get-me-out-of-it look. Lacroix's brows rose, but sighing,
he turned to Jenks.
"Officer," Lacroix started smoothly, smiling genially, "would you
mind giving me a moment here?"
"...a moment..." repeated Jenks, eyes glazing. Lacroix reached
out, idly running his finger and thumb along the lapel of the
policeman's jacket.
"Lacroix?" questioned Nick.
"I'm thinking, Nicholas. Hush." Brow furrowing slightly, Lacroix
considered his options. Were he to let the man go, his mind
untampered with, while the police force would have no grounds
for dismissing Nicholas, his work environment could become so
uncomfortable that he could easily be persuaded to abandon his
current incarnation and move on.
"Lacroix," Nick growled.
The elder vampire sighed. And were he to leave Nicholas in this
embarrassing situation, his son's resentment would erode the
current advances in their relationship. Something, in the end, he
was unwilling to risk on such comparatively low chances of return.
He gazed deeply into the police officer's eyes, the mortal
heartbeat a tantalizing rhythm in his ears. "Jenks," he crooned,
"you did not see Detective Nick Knight here this evening."
"Didn't...see...Nick."
"No. You found and chased off with a warning two youngsters,
a lanky young man and a dark haired girl in a pink sweater."
"Pink...sweater."
"Well done, Jenks. Now, it's time to get back in your vehicle
and continue your patrol. There's no need to return to this area
tonight."
"No...need."
Lacroix gave the man a gentle shove toward his car and within a
minute the mortal had driven off, his tail lights vanishing around
a curve.
"Let's go," demanded Nick, sitting up.
Lacroix stopped him with a hand to the middle of his chest.
"I'm not finished," he stated.
"Lacroix-"
"I'm not *finished*, Nicholas," he repeated rather forcefully. He
went on a bit more placatingly. "He won't be back, you know.
Besides," and he grinned roguishly, "I find the risk of discovery
adds a certain...spice to the whole affair."
"What if I don't want to?" Nick demanded angrily.
Slowly Lacroix lowered his hand from Nick's chest, his smile
swallowed up in a stony expressionlessness.
"Then you don't want to, Nicholas. And it ends here." His
hands moved to his shirt front, quickly doing it up. "I can find
my own way home." He found his wrists seized in Nick's two
hands.
"Don't...don't, Lacroix. I'm...I was a bit rattled. Let's go on."
His mischievous slanting grin lit up his face. "Besides, I haven't
had my turn yet." Nick's hands slid off Lacroix's wrists, down
his waist, to cup the other's groin. Lacroix drew in a sharp, tiny
breath.
"If...you say so, Nicholas," he said slowly, fists clenching at his
sides.
Nick lay back down on the seat. "I'm afraid you're going to have
to start all over from the beginning," he said, grinning, squirming
a bit to make himself comfortable. "That was all a bit of a shock."
Lacroix sank down to his place between Nick's knees again. "Oh
dear," he murmured. "Well, perhaps I can come up with
something to soothe your ravaged nerves."
A half an hour later a soaring cry of mindless bliss floated over
the lake.
Some minutes after that the following conversation ensued...
"Oh, no. No. Not again. Not yet, please, Lacroix."
"I'm just cleaning up, Nicholas, never fear."
"...Thank you, Lacroix."
"Anytime, Nicholas. Is...all well with you?"
"Oh, very, very well. Lacroix...I'm okay with this. Really."
"I *am* relieved to hear you say so."
"Perhaps I could offer you further relief. For this, for instance."
Sharp intake of breath.
"Here, let me get that...is that better?"
"Much. Nicholas..?"
"Relax, Lacroix. Here, switch with me. You lie down."
"These...vehicles weren't exactly designed with this in mind,
were they?"
"Not really. But we shall persevere."
The sound of jeans being removed.
"Nicholas? What..?"
"Thought I'd go for a little ride."
"Nicholas, no. I'm not asking for-"
"I know you're not. That's part of why I want to."
"But-"
"Are you really trying to talk me out of this?"
"Ah...no."
"Smart man."
"Oh dear, silly me. I seem to have left my lubricants at home.
Perhaps another time, Nicholas..?"
"Hmm. Well, we've done without it before."
"Yes, and it hurt. Listen, Nicholas, I appreciate the thought. But
I'd really like this dealt with...*soon*."
"Oh, wait! Maybe..."
The sound of the glove box being opened. A triumphant "Yes!"
"What have you got?"
"Honey!"
"...Honey?"
"Yeah, Tracy uses honey in her tea and coffee. I let her keep a
honey bear in my glove compartment. In a baggy, of course."
"But...that will be sticky, Nicholas."
"You didn't mind that the last time."
"We were a few paces away from the bath."
"You've become a regular old fuddy-duddy, Lacroix."
"Nicholas, I just - dear gods."
"See, it feels nice, doesn't it?"
"Uuuuuhhhh..."
"Gotta put on lots, right?"
"Nnnnnniiiii..."
"Okay, just let me get my hands wiped here, and..."
Bodies shifting slightly, a sudden gasp, a low groan, the soft
sound of flesh sliding over honey-coated flesh...
Hoarsely. "Dear god, Lacroix, if I didn't know better, I'd have
said you've grown."
"Nicholas, please...don't move. Give me a moment here."
"...All right?"
"Yes. Yes. Carry on. Oh, and look at this, how convenient. A
joy stick for speed control."
"Aaaahhhh."
"Easy, Nicholas, easy. We can get there together...just...take it
easy."
"How hard are you going to make me work for this?"
"Not - not very, Nicholas. So I'd appreciate a slower pace on
your part."
"S - sorry. How's that?"
"Good...that's...good. And this..?"
"Oh, yeah..."
Heavy breathing, becoming increasingly ragged and harsh.
"L-lacroix..."
Whispered. "Yesss, Nicholas. I need your teeth, Nicholasss..."
Two strangely muffled roars rattled toward the pin-prick stars,
sailing on the caressing breeze.
****
Tracy shivered, pulling her jacket collar tighter around her neck.
"Nick, I know it's spring and I know you don't feel the cold the
way the rest of us do, but you've developed this real thing about
driving with the top down lately."
"Sorry, Trace," he said, glancing over at her. "I'll put it up when
we get where we're going. You okay? Sorry, I wasn't thinking."
She seemed to be recovering from her near death experience
remarkably well, but he still tended to worry about her.
"No problem, Nick. The fresh air is probably good for me. But I
think I've had my full medicinal dose for the evening." She
smiled reassuringly at Nick, then said, "Oops, it's your
Nightcrawler buddy."
Nick's hand shot out to block hers if she went for the radio knob.
"Yeah, I hope you don't mind."
"Naw. Actually, he's been a lot more up-beat lately. Almost
perky." She grinned at Nick, shooting him a twinkling, impish
glance. "Maybe he's getting some."
Nick guffawed, brows raised in shock. "Tracy!"
"Well, maybe he is, Nick," she replied, laughing. "Listen."
Lacroix's voice, caressing, filled the silence of the car.
"...we are as two comets,
We prowl fang'd and four-footed in the woods, we spring
on prey,
We are two clouds forenoons and afternoons driving overhead,
We are seas mingling, we are two of those cheerful waves
rolling over each other and interwetting each other,
We are what the atmosphere is, transparent, receptive,
pervious, impervious,
We are snow, rain, cold, darkness, we are each product and
influence of the globe,
We have circled and circled till we have arrived home again,
we two,
We have voided all but freedom and all but our own joy.
"And that, my children, was "We Two, How Long We Were
Fool'd" by Walt Whitman, a marvelous fellow, I assure you. An
American poet and an astute observer of the continent's
delightful customs, of which there are so, so many."
Grinning, Nick said, "Maybe you're right, Trace. Maybe he is."
Still smiling, he glanced up into the night sky, taking a deep
breath of spring air.
FIN
Credits:
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Most recent revision Saturday, February 1, 1997