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The phone rang. Nick, who was prowling around the loft trying to decide what he wanted to do with his rare evening off, moved quickly to check the caller ID box. When he did, he lifted an eyebrow, then shrugged and picked the phone up before the answering machine could kick in.
"Hello, LaCroix."
Evincing no surprise at all that Nick had known it was him, his sire's voice was a sultry purr.
"Nicholas. I'm so glad to catch you at home. Tell me, are you busy this evening? If you're not, would you care to do a bit of socializing?"
Nick grinned. Translated in his personal LaCroix/Nicholas dictionary, during the past few months this phrase usually meant "Would you like to get together and have sex until we drop from exhaustion?" He spoke into the receiver, his voice unconsciously lowering in timbre.
"What did you have in mind, pere?"
LaCroix chuckled. "Nothing as pleasant as what your tone conjures up in my jaded fancy. I'm afraid the reality is much more pedestrian. A few of the European elders are in Toronto for a couple of days, and they wish to be entertained at the Raven. And, while I have no doubt that Miklos and his staff are perfectly capable of keeping them amused, as the eldest in Toronto I feel a certain obligation to make a token appearance. I thought you might like to accompany me."
Surprised, Nick hesitated a moment before continuing. "You're entertaining visitors? From the Council? I thought you weren't political anymore, LaCroix."
"I'm not, particularly, and I don't really plan on making a habit of it. But I have decided that it couldn't hurt us to renew a few connections."
Nick frowned, wondering what LaCroix wasn't telling him, and realizing at the same time that he would find out when his close-lipped sire felt like telling him, and not a moment sooner. A thought occurred to him and he said sharply,
"How do they expect to be entertained? They aren't going to be hunting, are they?"
A thread of unease crept into his chest. He was used to crossing the path of, and dealing with, the occasional over-enthusiastic Toronto fledgling. A hunting pack of older vampires could be a whole different level of trouble, depending on their tastes.
LaCroix' reply was sharp as well, steel suddenly evident in his voice.
"No, Nicholas, they will not. I understand from Miklos that they are happily sampling the Raven's outstanding selection of vintages as we speak, so there will be no need for them to hunt. And I have no intention of giving them permission to do so for sport, I have enough problems handling the occasional indiscretions of the locals."
Nick relaxed. LaCroix was a stickler for protocol, and it would be the height of rudeness for a guest in his city to hunt without his permission. Shaking his head, he smiled into the receiver,
"Why do you want me to go? I really don't care to see any of them, and they certainly can't be interested in my opinions--I assume they have heard of me."
LaCroix' voice, amused once more, purred to him,
"There is one, and only one, way to find that out, amant. Come to the Raven and give a display of solidarity. It cannot hurt your standing in the Community to be seen associating with your own kind a little. Just for a short while, it won't hurt at all, I promise."
Nick grinned.
"Hmm, I don't know---what's in it for me?"
His master's tone took on a feral cast that send a pleasant frisson of excitement through Nick.
"As I said, mon fils, there is only one way to find out. I am leaving now, I will be at the Raven if you decide to join me."
Without waiting for an answer, the old vampire hung up. Nick put the receiver back in its cradle and reached down to tug at inseam of his jeans, shifting the predictable result of his sire's insinuating voice into a more comfortable position.
Damn---I suppose if I want to avoid taking care of this myself, I'm going to have to go and socialize. I just hope it's not anyone who remembers me very well. He leaned against the arm of the couch, his expression distracted.
Honestly, he wasn't quite sure what to make of this. To his knowledge, LaCroix had stopped willingly socializing with other vampires, for any reason other than business, a few centuries ago. Not that the old vampire had ever been overly gregarious, but his master had abandoned all casual contact with the Community around the beginning of the 1800s, right after the strife between himself and Nick had started its last ugly downslide into endless, bitter scenarios of flight and pursuit.
I never really thought about it, but I suppose pursuing me full time did put a crimp in his social life. The three of us did go to a lot of functions before things started going bad---maybe he's been missing that.
Another thought occurred to Nick, and he frowned.
I wonder if he wants to take this opportunity to make a public demonstration, to inform the outside Community that I've come back into the fold? If that's it, I'm not at all sure that I like it...
Nick shook his head, trying to put the disturbing thought out of his mind. If that was the reason LaCroix wanted him to be there, he'd find out soon enough--and have some harsh words with his sire, afterward. But right now, he might as well get dressed and head over to the Raven. LaCroix had, after all, sounded very inviting.
He bounded upstairs and showered, a constant low level of arousal and anticipation making his nerves hum faintly in a most pleasant way. While grabbing clothes from his well-stocked closet, he stopped and wondered if he should be dressing up in some way for the occasion. Then he snorted, as he thought about how the majority of the Raven's patrons dressed. Obviously, this wasn't to be a formal occasion. Throwing on a pair of black jeans and a dark blue watered-silk shirt, he elected the speediest way out of the loft: the skylight.
It was cool and the air slightly raw, but the underlying threat of winter was absent from the mild wind. He detected the faint, chalky-floral scent of massive amounts of tree pollen blowing about on the exhaust-laden city air, and smiled. Spring was definitely his favorite season.
Nick reached out with his senses as he flew, and was very pleased with himself when he detected the frisson of energy that meant his sire was somewhere ahead of him. It was getting easier and easier for him to mark LaCroix' location nowadays.
As he approached the Raven, the familiar aura suddenly grew exponentially in strength, its signature unmistakable. Nick pulled up and hovered as a dark blur of motion entered his sight and resolved itself into his sire on a direct collision course.
Before the astonished Nick could even think about getting out of the way, LaCroix was upon him. The old vampire threw an arm around his protege's waist as he slowed drastically, bearing them both back a few feet and spinning them around several times as the balance of his momentum bled off. Nick simply held on, surprised into speechlessness as the powerful arms, lean and hard inside the expensive linen shirtsleeves, encircled him in a steel grip.
Grinning, Nick wondered at his sire's rare flash of boisterousness as the other man buried his face against Nick's exposed throat. LaCroix chuckled, flicking the tip of his tongue over the most sensitive area of Nick's throat with unerring accuracy as they touched down gently to the roof of the apartment building they'd come together over. The younger vampire tightened his grip around the powerful form and sucked in his breath as his body responded to the embrace and the cool tongue suddenly tickling one of the most erotically charged areas on his body. His pleasant state of mild arousal flared, his member stiffening inside his heavy black denim jeans.
Purring, Nick ran an affectionate hand up over his sire's short-cropped hair, caressing the back of his head and neck, still puzzled at this burst of playful energy.
"Mmmm, I missed you too, mon pere, but what's this? Did Miklos already break out the curare? Why so---oh!"
He broke off, his voice catching in his throat as LaCroix slipped a hand inside his front pocket and caressed him intimately. The large hand expertly petted and stroked his hardening member, then moved down to gently play with his balls.
Robbed for a moment of speech, he simply groaned, then managed, "Ooohhh...never mind. I don't care. Just don't stop, please."
Which was, of course, LaCroix' signal to stop and take his hand out of Nick's pocket. As Nick growled at him, he laughed and dipped his head down to the younger man's open shirt collar and inhaled his son's thick, aroused scent.
"I'm playing hooky, as it were, Nicholas." He pulled back, amusement dancing in his pale eyes, giving way to admiration and something much more primal as he studied his child's handsome features. A slow smile curved his full lips and he reached out to run his fingertips along the edge of Nick's ear.
"Hmmm...you know, it's very refreshing to have people from the old continent drop in, but I had completely forgotten how mind-numbingly boring Owen Gruenvald and his entourage are. Hopefully our next visitors will be more entertaining. I put in an obligatory appearance, made an obligatory toast, then left Herr Gruenvald and his two eldest chatting up the redoubtable Alma."
Despite his disparaging words, he still radiated a subtle aura of pleased energy. Nick realized, a bit taken aback, that his earlier conjecture had probably been right---LaCroix must have actually missed interacting with other elder vampires during the long years he'd been busy pursuing his rebellious son and trying to keep him out of the Community's collective eye (and thus, the potential notice of the Enforcers).
Distracted by the long fingers lightly tracing the whorls of his ears, Nick laughed, grabbing at his sire's wrist to still the exploratory hand. "Good luck to them. Whoever ends up with her had better count all his parts tomorrow evening."
LaCroix snorted, amused. "I'm afraid I can't argue with you there, mon fils. Janette's moving back to Paris didn't do much for Alma's disposition." He dipped his head down and started softly licking the skin over Nick's left carotid artery.
Looking as nonchalant as he could manage with his sire's tongue tracing intricate designs on his throat, Nick picked up LaCroix' free hand from its resting place on his hip and brought it up to his face, nuzzling into the palm.
"So, I take it this means you have better things in mind for me to do, other than hang on your arm--" he paused to take two of the other man's fingers into his mouth and swirl his tongue around them for a few moments before continuing, " --looking decorative, and making a display of...mmm...solidarity?"
The older vampire stopped his attentions to Nick's throat and pulled his head back to look at his son. Nick resumed his attentions to his master's hand, looking up mischievously from his work to check its effect on LaCroix. His sire's eyes closed and his lips slightly parted as he drew in a long, slightly ragged breath.
****
LaCroix watched Nicholas take his index and middle finger into his mouth, and closed his eyes to fully enjoy the sensation of Nick's soft tongue snaking around his fingers, and the predictable result on his own body.
Part of him knew that it was simply ridiculous that his son should have only to suck on his fingers to bring him alarmingly close to orgasm, but here he was, erection straining at the front of his trousers, and he simply couldn't bring himself to rein his urges in under their usual iron control just yet. He'd gone hungry for this kind of pleasure for far, far too long, and was determined to enjoy to the fullest this affectionate phase Nicholas was in right now.
LaCroix knew very well that, if history held true, his son could decide at any moment that it was wrong for him to be behaving like this. It had been a fresh surprise to him each time during the last few months, whenever he assayed to touch his son and was not rebuffed. He knew it wouldn't last. But for this brief period of time, at least, Nicholas was delightful company.
"Nicholas, I have every intention of making a superb display of solidarity right here. It may even involve hanging on certain body parts, although I'll admit that my arm's not what I had in mind at the moment."
He reached out and drew the younger vampire in close against him. Nicholas came without protest, angling his head up to kiss LaCroix on the mouth, pressing the full length of his body along his sire's.
His sire's playful urgency was infectious. Eager to feel the powerful body, Nick moved his hands down the other man's sides, then down along the long thighs, squeezing the corded muscle under the soft black leather pants his sire wore---LaCroix had obviously dressed for a soiree at the Raven. As they continued to kiss, Nick's breathing grew harsh and he squirmed under LaCroix' enthusiastic lips and tongue.
The older vampire broke away from his mouth and moved down to playfully suckle at the tender skin over his throat, bringing his hands up under Nick's shirt to lightly pinch his nipples. Groaning, Nick moved against the tall, hard body as LaCroix licked his neck, dragging his teeth over the now slightly sore and overly sensitized skin, never breaking it, not even a scratch, teasing his son's beast fully awake.
****
Nick realized that he didn't want to stop, even for the few minutes it would take them to fly back to the loft. He also realized that he really wanted to hear LaCroix start making a little bit of noise.
With an effort of will, Nick pushed himself away from the talented mouth and ran eager, experimental hands over the old vampire's torso, looking for the spots where his touch would excite the most. Exploring his sire's broad chest, he stopped and leaned in, gently biting at one nipple through the thin fabric and running his fingernails lightly over its twin until they were both hard little points. He kept it up until LaCroix was moaning, his head fallen back, his long fingers tangling in Nick's hair.
Objective attained, Nick straightened up and looked into the other vampire's face again. The eyes looking back at him were glowing like banked embers and his sire was breathing hard, his parted lips revealing sharp eyeteeth.
Straightening up and stepping back, Nick grinned as LaCroix moved to rid himself of his shirt. His arms caught in the sleeves and the fabric tore with a little purring noise as his impatient sire simply ripped free of the shirt and dropped it to the grimy rooftop. Nick's own shirt was next, stripped off him with even less care, the delicate fabric floating down in pieces to rest on the remains of LaCroix' garment.
As he watched the remnants of his shirt drop to the roof, Nick suddenly thought to look around. Carefully, he took in their surroundings with an eye for any potential observers. The roof of the building they stood on was high enough that they didn't need to concern themselves with either amateur astronomers or blatant voyeurs with telescopes, but there was a real possibility of a low-flying helicopter coming by. Swallowing, he said a bit breathlessly,
"We should at least move away from the edge of the roof, pere."
LaCroix nodded, conceding the point, and released him. They surveyed the roof with practiced eyes, searching for their best chance at remaining undisturbed.
It was an unremarkable, grimy rooftop like so many others they'd perched on, fought on, and mated on throughout the centuries. But even so, in this most unlikely of places, there was still some grace to be found. The pale wheat-colored light of the full moon was kind to the stark surroundings, lending an air of unreality and glamour to all of it, even the trash scattered along the dark tarry surface.
Picking their way delicately around the bright moon-gilded shards from a broken wine bottle, they moved toward the center of the roof toward the entryway to the building below. Behind the landing there was a small brick structure that Nick though was probably a custodian's shed, which formed a little cul-de-sac with the back wall of the landing. Not a very glamorous backdrop, but they'd managed in far worse settings than these, and right now convenience won hands down over ambiance.
As they moved into the deep shadows behind the shed, both noticed with amusement that they weren't the first to take advantage of the chancy privacy the little space offered. A torn and empty condom wrapper and a faint, lingering telltale scent gave away the fact that others before them had recently considered this a worthy spot. They exchanged wry smiles.
"An unsolicited testimonial to the quality of the accommodations, Nicholas." LaCroix said, thinking with light amusement that perhaps somewhere under their feet, the user of the discarded wrapper's contents snored buzzily into his lover's neck---as ignorant as the rest of his sleeping neighbors that just above their heads were two members of the only successful predators of their kind. Creatures of myth and darkness, sporting together as they'd done for more then twenty generations of the sleepers below.
As they moved into the darkened area, Nick was struck by a sudden impulse. With a little deep-throated growl, he seized LaCroix' upper arms and pushed him back against the brick wall of the shed, hard enough to drive the breath from his lungs in a sharp huff, and make the back of his head connect with the rough brick. The impact was just hard enough to rattle his sire's teeth and surprise a momentary snarl from the older vampire who glared at him, eyes flashing gold. Nick made good use of LaCroix' momentary inaction to get a firm grip on his master's wrists and bring them around behind the old vampire's back. LaCroix' snarl grew lower, fading into a low rumble that was nearly a purr as his son nuzzled against his chest.
Grinning, Nick pressed himself against the other man, daringly using both their weights to pin LaCroix' arms behind him, trapped against the wall. Silent, LaCroix made no resistance but instead watched him intently, his golden eyes fixed on his son's face, waiting for his next move.
Being allowed to take the initiative like this was making Nick painfully hard. His cock was an iron bar trapped inside the heavy black denim of his pants, and he wanted, really needed, to drive the older vampire to the same urgency, the same sharp need he felt now.
Nick dipped his head and attacked the broad chest, kissing, licking, running his tongue down from the hollow at the base of the white throat to first one pale nipple, then the other, grazing the hypersensitive skin with his teeth until the first real chink in his lover's iron control appeared. LaCroix uttered a single low cry and moved his hips, rubbing himself against his son's straining body. *Oh, Nicholas, yes. Just like that.*
When LaCroix cried out and thrust against him, Nick almost came. Desperately needing to free himself from his painfully tight jeans, he let go of LaCroix' wrists and moved to free himself, unsteady fingers fumbling with the metal buttons. As he was about to give in to frustration and simply tear himself free, he found his hands grasped and held. Instead of fighting to pull away, Nick froze as one hand dropped down to cover his groin, fingertips settling lightly over the base of his crotch, stroking.
"Let me."
The fingers travelled up, running slowly along the length of flesh straining inside the tough material, paused to linger for a moment over the slightly damp area at the top of the bulge. Eyes closed and mouth slightly open, Nick shuddered under the light, feathery pressure of the long, strong fingers, fighting to hold his orgasm at bay.
If the fingertips had asserted even an ounce more of pressure, caressed just a bit more firmly, he would not have been able to keep from climaxing, but the clever digits stopped short of bringing him to completion. Instead, they moved to unfasten the buttons at his fly, suddenly moving very fast indeed.
Nick let out a groan of sheer relief as his trapped erection was finally allowed to spring free, then yelped as the tough material was pulled roughly down past his erection, the waistband of the pants grazing it roughly.
Painful as it was, it had the advantage of driving his level of arousal back sharply. Otherwise he would certainly have exploded when his sire quickly moved in to soothe the injured area with a few passes from his agile tongue. Nick's short cry of pain turned into a deep groan, which slid into a deep-throated growl as his sire's soft tongue swept along his erection to brush lightly over his scrotum for an instant before withdrawing. Smiling, the old vampire took a step back, leaving his son to find the rest of his way out of his garments.
Quickly stepping out of his boots and the rest of the way out of his jeans, tossing it all vehemently away from him, Nick turned his attention back to his master. He slipped his hands around LaCroix' waist and sank to his knees in front of him, his tawny gaze fixed on the other man's eyes as he did.
LaCroix' arousal, which had been burning steadily at a deliciously strong level spiked as Nick sank down, moving his hands down over the small of his back to grip and knead the tight buttocks. Nick moved a hand up to massage the area at the base of LaCroix' spine, something he knew his sire particularly liked. Long fingers wove themselves into his hair, caressing his head as LaCroix whispered a soft encouragement.
Nick moved his hands down to curve around the lean ass and pulled the other man's groin forward, pressing his face into it, rubbing his face against the bulge inside the supple leather like a cat rubbing against a favorite person's legs. Inhaling, he took in the scent of leather and musk, and teasingly opened his mouth to gently gnaw at the bulge. LaCroix's hips bucked lightly under his ministrations, and when Nick glanced up there was ochre fire in his eyes. Nick grinned, unfastened the pants and slid them down the other man's legs.
His sire's sigh of pleasure and relief as his own trapped organ was finally freed from the tight leather turned into a gasp as his son took hold of it, bestowing a careless kiss on the slick head before moving to bite gently at the other man's thighs and belly.
Nick ran his tongue along a long inner thigh, over the femoral artery, then retraced his path, sucking and biting gently until LaCroix groaned in protest and sent a gentle but fervent request along their mental connection. In response, Nick squeezed and moved his hand slightly, gently massaging his sire's engorged member, smiling wickedly as he felt the response shudder through the lean body. Carefully, Nick slid his hand down the rigid shaft, pulling the foreskin down and exposing the tender glans. Tasting the drops of pinkish fluid beading up in the deep slit there, he tickled the plumlike head with his tongue until LaCroix gasped and clawed at the bricks behind him, scoring them.
When he heard that, Nick purred. For whatever his reasons, LaCroix was letting himself be a little bit out of control tonight and Nick was enjoying every moment of it, every nuance of his sire's reactions to his caresses. The realization that he was successfully teasing LaCroix into a truly desperate state was making Nick unbearably hot, and he dropped his free hand down to fondle himself for a moment, letting out a small moan as he did.
****
LaCroix was ready to explode. He'd forgotten just how maddeningly good at this Nicholas was when he really put his mind to it, and his son was obviously feeling inspired tonight: his hands and mouth were everywhere. LaCroix arched against his protege, moaning faintly, as the wickedly talented mouth roamed over his body. Merciless, the little Belgian demon found and visited all of the trigger areas he had been mentally re-mapping during the last few months.
Perilously close to orgasm, the old vampire struggled to recapture some control over his body, distracting himself by concentrating on the murmur of the apartment inhabitants' hearts below, more felt than heard.
Savoring the blood and salty-musk tang of his master's pre-ejaculate, Nick stood back up, needing to feel the other man's body full against his. Sliding his arms around LaCroix' neck, he brought the full mouth against his, giving his master a kiss laced with the taste of himself. Both men made small noises of pleasure as their bodies, now streaked and slick with bloodsweat, trapped their straining members together between them, the shafts sliding back and forth against each other as they moved.
LaCroix, his control partly recovered, realized that it was his turn to take control of the situation. He dropped his head down a little and bit lightly at a particular spot on Nick's throat. Nick's eyes rolled back and he tightened his hold on the other's powerful body as his legs threatened to buckle. Without giving him a chance to recover, LaCroix pressed his attack, mercilessly running his busy mouth over his son's straining throat, tonguing it, nipping and licking the hypersensitive skin until the younger vampire was half out of his mind.
Nick had intended to bring his sire to orgasm in his mouth, but this full embrace, LaCroix' mouth on his throat, moving against each other, grinding their erections together...it was just too overwhelmingly good to consider doing anything else. He moaned and ran his hands over the other man's body, caressing, encouraging the exquisite full-body contact, his movements becoming more desperate, his body beginning its final spin out of control.
LaCroix nuzzled his face, flicking his tongue against his neck and earlobe, then whispered roughly in his ear, his voice thick,
"Do you want to come like this, amant? Just rubbing our cocks together until neither one of us can stand it any more, or do you want to fuck? Tell me what you want, now."
Wild to come, to feed and feel his lover's teeth in his throat, feeding from him, Nick surged against the other man, winding one leg partly around LaCroix' and bringing their bodies together, hard. He bit one of the pale, crinkled nipples hard enough to draw a mouthful of blood, and as his sire cried out, moved up and covered the ancient's mouth with his own, whispering against it feverishly,
"Like this, please, like this, right now. We can fuck later, at the Raven, or the loft or at the townhouse---ah!"
LaCroix reached down between them and wrapped his large hand around both their shafts, pulling a low cry and a few involuntary hip motions from his wild-eyed son. Growling as Nicholas clawed his back and arm, he began a slow, firm stroking, finding his son's mouth and sliding his tongue in, scoring it deeply on one of his own fangs as he did.
Blood flowed from the wound into Nick's mouth and he sucked frantically on LaCroix' tongue, driven beyond control by the coppery taste in his mouth and the feel of their two shafts gliding against each other, sliding back and forth through his sire's slick hand. As his pleasure peaked and he hovered in that exquisite knife-edge instant before the first spasms, LaCroix stopped moving, held them both still and drew the moment out into a paralyzed moment of pleasure, trapping them both at their bodies' limits.
*LaCroix, don't, ah Lucien, please don't stop, don't stop, please finish it, ahh--*
Nick's mental pleas stopped, replaced by a white hot flash as LaCroix resumed stroking and the coiled tension in his body finally peaked and broke. His cock jerked against his sire's own spasming organ, slick fluid spurting up on their bellies and chests, coating their pale skin as they shuddered in the grip of mutual release.
The moment of perfection came when they bit deep into each others' throats, aware, even in that consuming moment, that to scream aloud might draw unwanted attention from the mortals below. So they muffled their cries in each other's straining throats, screaming instead into each others' minds as coiled tension released and they convulsed together, the febrile energy of their orgasms mingling with the first bright rush of blood in their mouths.
Moaning, Nick pulled hard at his master's throat, reaching down to put his hand over LaCroix' take hold of their still-twitching shafts and milk out a few last shuddering spasms of pleasure that echoed back and forth over their connection, sharpening the taste of the blood in his mouth.
This was the blood, the powerful lifeblood of his sire and it drew them together as nothing else could. He could never put words to the experience--had he been a poet he might have tried, but he didn't have that gift. It never failed to move him to the core, though, and as he shuddered against his ancient partner, riding out the last moments of bliss, he felt a few tears mingle with the bloodsweat on his face.
LaCroix was, as always, the first to come back to his senses, unable to stay too distracted for too long. He withdrew his teeth from his son's throat and held the younger vampire firmly against him, panting, becoming once more fully aware of their surroundings. Satisfied that there were no new occupants on the roof, he relaxed and closed his eyes. Nick sighed, half-asleep, and drawled in a faint voice,
"Whew. Mon pere, that was very, very... "
LaCroix nuzzled the side of his face.
"Yes it was. Ready to start again?"
LaCroix laughed at the incredulous look his son gave him before the younger vampire groaned a very old and obscene Flemish curse and let his head fall back against the older vampire's chest.
They rested for a few more minutes, then, aware that they were already pushing their luck as far as potential discovery went, moved to make themselves marginally presentable. LaCroix re-donned his pants and boots. Nick simply slipped back into his jeans and padded barefoot across the roof to peer over the edge. His sire followed him and they stood quietly together near the edge of the roof. After a few minutes passed, LaCroix stepped back to give his son room to move in front of him. Nick sat down, resting his back against his sire's legs, reaching back slightly to rest a possessive hand on one of the old vampire's boots.
LaCroix tilted his head back and looked up at the bright moon, newly full. Its light, slightly golden in tint tonight, played over their pale skin, gilding it with a faint luminescence. The moonlight brushed a bright dappling of light over the dark gold of his son's hair, changing his own hair to the color of wheat under a heavy frost. He looked down at the top of Nick's head and reached out to gently weave his fingers into the slightly damp, tousled locks. Searching along their connection, he sensed nothing but contentment from his son.
And we spin our dance once again, mon fils, as we have done for so many seasons. Will this ever grow cold, I wonder, will it ever fail to shake me to the core like this?
He took a deep breath, and allowed himself to relax and simply accept the kindness of this moment of peace between them. Carefully, he recalled every sensation, committing every moment to his vast storehouse of memories, as he always did.
Being able to call on those memories would be his solace when the inevitable happened and Nicholas grew dissatisfied with his life again and left on the next fool's crusade. It was the price LaCroix had long ago come to expect, if not yet fully accept, for any and all times of accord with his mercurial son.
Unaware of his sire's thoughts, Nick took a slow, deep breath, inhaling their mingled scents against the backdrop of the ever-present city smells, content for the moment to simply exist.
He loved the feel of the sturdy body his back rested against, the feel of the hard-muscled legs encased in the supple black leather. Nick felt an odd mixture of sensuality and security as he idly ran his hand up LaCroix' boot to caress his calf for a moment before lowering it again to rest on his foot.
They stayed like that for a little while, then LaCroix sighed and lowered himself to sit behind the younger vampire, reaching out lazily to wrap one arm around his protégé and pull him back against him.
Drifting slightly, Nick trailed an idle hand along the back of the powerful forearm.
"Be thy taut flesh silver, like the currency of faint cities eternal--ere the sinless taint of thy long sinful arms about me, dream," murmured Nick, not really knowing where the words came from. He felt LaCroix' lips curve into a smile against the nape of his neck, and the old vampire picked up his words and finished the passage,
"shall my love wholly taste thee as a new wine from steep hills by darkness, softly brought" After a pause, he spoke softly into his son's hair, "ee cummings, Nicholas?"
Nick shrugged, his voice a bit distant. "Is it? I forgot. So many poets, so many words..." He fell quiet, and they sat together, each simply enjoying the other's presence.
Eventually, Nick started to consider the possibility of another round and he stretched, extending his arms forward and arching his back against his sire's body. LaCroix chuckled and pulled the younger vampire back snugly against him. Smiling, Nick rocked lazily back against his master's body, enjoying the sensation of feeling LaCroix getting hard against his back.
The pleasant direction that their thoughts were taking was suddenly derailed with the arrival of another vampire on the roof. As the attractive blonde woman touched down, Nick recognized Alma and groaned inwardly. Whatever she had to say, he was willing to bet he didn't want to hear it. Unbeknownst to him, LaCroix was thinking much the same thing.
****
Alma approached the master of Toronto and his son, irritably eyeing the two loafing vampires. There were many more pleasant things she could have been doing this evening rather than chase LaCroix down for Miklos. She might have known he'd sneaked off for a tryst with Nick. For the past few months the two of them had been constantly, though fairly discretely, crawling down each other's pants.
Men. Even the oldest and coldest still thinks with his dick, she mused uncharitably.
Ever loyal to Janette, Alma thought very little of either LaCroix or Nick: the sire who always slighted his faithful and obedient daughter in favor of his rude and ungrateful son, and the self-absorbed brother who'd show up only when he needed Janette's help, or wanted to get laid because he was frustrated with abstaining from taking his mortal amours. In Alma's opinion, both of them should be in Paris, begging Janette for forgiveness.
She mentally rolled her eyes, but kept her face carefully neutral, not wanting to let any annoyance creep into her tone when she spoke. This was still LaCroix and his unpredictable, moody son Nicholas, no matter how comparatively easygoing either of them had become over the last few months.
****
Silently, they watched her approach, LaCroix' eyes half-lidded and deceptively sleepy-looking, Nick's eyes narrowed and gleaming.
*Ugh. We shouldn't have settled in plain sight so close to the Raven, like this. I really don't want to move.*
*Nicholas, I don't think Alma is going to be able to make us move if we don't want to. For her sake, I hope this is something worth my attention...*
Nick fought down the urge to squirm as LaCroix lightly caressed his neck, one hand drifting down to pause and trace a light pattern with a fingernail over a particular area on the back of his neck. It wasn't easy, and the fact that he could feel LaCroix' erection pressing against the small of his back wasn't helping, either.
Alma stopped about fifteen feet away and folded her arms.
"LaCroix. There's a disturbance at the Raven. The younger Karl and his brothers, Stephen and Anton--?" She paused, and LaCroix nodded, recognizing the names of a new trio of particularly young and belligerent cellar occupants. He narrowed his eyes, threads of lemon beginning to creep into the pale irises.
"Go on."
"They started a fight, and it got"...she shrugged..."messy. There were a few mortals still in the club and they saw everything."
"And this concerns me in exactly what way, Alma?"
LaCroix finally stood up and began stalking toward her. Alma's eyes flickered over the elder vampire's body, noting his obvious state of arousal, then back up to the pale eyes which were growing yellower and angrier by the second. Her cool attitude slipped a bit and she stepped backward as LaCroix growled, still advancing, "I hope you're not going to tell me that it wasn't taken care of in a discreet manner. You know my views on killing inside the Raven."
Alma shook her head, hastily saying,
"No, no, it's not like that. They're all fine. But one of them is a resistor, Miklos couldn't do anything with him. He sent me to get you because we didn't want to break your rule about killing mortals in the club. If you don't do something with him, we'll be forced to take care of it the other way. And..."
She stopped. LaCroix realized that there was something more to come, something he was going to like even less than the first bit of news. He narrowed his eyes.
"What else?"
She eyed him nervously for a moment, then recovered her equilibrium and drew a deep breath, obviously searching for just the right words. LaCroix closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose like a man developing a sudden migraine.
"Don't tell me that Gruenvald and his party were involved in some way. Did they observe the entire altercation?"
"Actually, they're the people that Karl and his bunch were fighting with."
"Of course they were."
Nick stood up and started looking for the rest of his clothes, frowning as he tried to remember what he'd done with his boots. LaCroix nodded to Alma.
"Tell Miklos I'll be there immediately." Dismissing her with that, he turned and walked toward his protégé, pausing to scoop up the remnants of Nick's shirt and tossing them at the younger vampire.
"Another pair of shirts dispatched to Hell, Nicholas."
At least you'll have a full wardrobe waiting for you, thought Alma, launching herself into the sky.
Hastily buckling his leather overcoat, LaCroix considered himself presentable enough until he could managed to get to his rooms in the back of the Raven and retrieve a fresh shirt. Nicholas, on the other hand, had no jacket and seemed to have somehow lost his boots...he looked at the younger vampire and shook his head solemnly.
"Nicholas, I'm sorry, the club does have a policy about shirts and shoes. I'm afraid you'll have to remain outside."
The younger vampire raised his eyebrows, grinning.
"No, I suppose I'll just have to raid your wardrobe, then, and make myself presentable."
LaCroix shrugged, smiling. "Don't bother on my account, Nicholas. I consider you, as always, perfectly presentable as is."