Standard disclaimers: the Forever Knight universe and its characters are the
property of James Parriott and Sony/Tristar; no profit is being made from
this piece of fiction. Damn; I could use the money.
Warnings: Explicit m/f/m sex. If under 18 or offended by such material,
please read no further. 
Archiving permission: www.fkfanfic.com, Dark Trinity, JADFE
Comments to stormborne@excite.com

As always, for V.


Deeper Bonds
By Molly Schneider
Copyright 2000

She was moonlight and satin, a goddess, a pearl...his hands and mouth roved
hungrily over her, seeking the mysterious essence of her deepest soul. Her
breathless encouragements grew into throaty moans as she drew him inside
her. His vampirism had enriched this experience as it had all others: it
seemed as if he could feel the stone walls that surrounded them in the cool
strength of her hands, and yet, as if nothing else existed but themselves.
He groaned in bliss, so lost in her that he did not sense the other presence
nor feel his weight on the bed as he joined them. It was only when the
strong hands, the rich mouth began a voluptuous journey along his shoulders
and back that he jerked his head back in startlement. But Janette was
pulling him closer, her inner muscles working him hungrily, and he was
drowning in the deep, dark pool of her...

Their master's hands parted his buttocks, his tongue lapping along his
cleft. When it snaked wetly inside him he buried his cry of pleasure in
Janette's mouth, hoping she did not realize what LaCroix was doing. Oh, but
she did: he could sense that from her and as she ended the kiss he saw her
face gloating with the knowledge, her eyes ruby and her sharp teeth bared. 
Jesu, but she was so wet and ripe inside, and LaCroix's tongue was so wet
and ripe inside him! He rocked between them, lost to their rhythms. Then
LaCroix's fingers penetrated him and he screamed, climaxing, spasming over
and over as he buried his fangs in Janette's throat and felt her own tear
into his. Coupled by blood, their minds swam together, slipping and
tumbling around each other in a red sea. 

When he came to himself afterwards he rolled away from them, burying his
face in the pillow. The room suddenly seemed cold and unforgiving as a
prison. What silent communication passed between the others he did not
know, only that shortly Janette was leaning over him, stroking him
comfortingly. "Mon pauvre Nicolas. What is the matter?"

"You knew," he responded thickly. "You knew what he was doing."

"But yes, of course."

"And yet you can look at me without contempt?"

She laughed, and embraced him. "Oh, Nicolas! We are free of all that,
haven't you learned that yet? Contempt, because LaCroix gives you pleasure,
and you, he? Do you think I don't know the pleasure the two of you have been
sharing?" Her voice dropped huskily. "Do you think I can't feel how you
want him now?"

Yesss...Sweet Mary help him, yes! His lust to take satisfied, another lust
was roiling inside him. Laughing again, she tightened her arms and turned
him so that he lay propped against her, facing LaCroix. She was displaying
him for the other man, he knew, and that knowledge, along with the light
scratching of her nails along his flanks, hardened his nipples into aching
buds, stirred his prick. So strange, to be the object of both their
desires--and yet, so strangely empowering. He was infected by her pride in
his beauty and felt a sudden savage exultation.

"Take him," she hissed to their master. "Oh, I want to see you take him!"

Still and pale, he waited, those coldly burning eyes never moving from his
son. Nicholas grinned hungrily at him. "Come here," he rasped. "Take me."

And then LaCroix was upon him, kissing him. He made him work for it,
allowing his mouth to be coaxed open, and when LaCroix forced his tongue
inside Nicholas scraped at it with his fangs, then teased at LaCroix's with
his own tongue. The precious drops mingled, causing them both to moan. Yet
Nicholas kept his hands by his sides and his legs closed until his master's
skillful touch teased them apart.

He could feel the sweat between himself and Janette--his, hers or both, he
did not know--and her breasts like delicate moons. She slipped away from
him so that LaCroix could push him back and only then did he reach out to
grasp the other man. Muscles of stone in those arms, that back, and their
very strength excited him even more. He saw Janette bend over him like a
dark angel and felt her hands and mouth on him just as LaCroix lodged the
head of his cock at his opening. Moaning, he closed his eyes, waiting for
the invasion.

Dimly he heard them speaking, but all that mattered was the sensations: the
feel of rough sheets and smooth skin, the aroma of bloody sweat, the
ruthless fulfillment he was yearning for. It was the sharp slap that roused
him, made him open his eyes and snarl.

"I said," LaCroix rasped, "'pay attention'! Feel me!"

"Then do it!" he snapped back. "Give it to me!"

"Not with your body alone. With your awareness, as I taught you."

He remembered that game of hide-and-seek they'd played. Intrigued, he
closed his eyes again and sought them out through the bond they shared. 
Yes...there they were, flickering at the edge of his mind like ghosts. 
Impulsively he stretched out his hands; their fingertips met his, barely
grazing. The vibration grew stronger. He focused on Janette first and
then, as she grew stronger inside him, on their maker. When he dissolved
the wall between his awareness of the two he gasped. Together, the three of
them together! Janette's rich hedonism and LaCroix's dominating desire
mingling with his own wantonness.

LaCroix started to move. "Wait," Nicholas said, "just a moment." Then,
"Now." The other's cock filled him and he clutched at it just as Janette
had clutched at his. He heard her moan and felt her tongue lick up the back
of his thigh and, as if experiencing himself through the others' vision,
felt himself buck and writhe underneath LaCroix. His head pressed further
back on the pillow as he arched his neck taut; one of his hands worked his
own erection as the other roamed up LaCroix's neck to his cropped head,
pulling at him. "Drink," he whispered urgently. He wanted those fangs
buried in him. "Take it all."

Through the still vibrating link he could feel his plea spike LaCroix's
arousal; the thrusting inside him turned to urgent ramming and Janette cried
out, her hand moving to her groin. She crouched above him, her head thrown
back and he gloated at her self-gratification. He turned his red eyes back
to his master's own nearly white ones, just for a moment--because LaCroix
struck then. Nicholas screamed in unbearable pleasure. Before he knew it
his own mouth was filling with LaCroix's blood. Drunk on each other's very
souls they fed, until they fell apart.

Janette was nearly sobbing; instantly her father gathered her close. "From
me," he said. "He isn't strong enough yet." Nicholas watched her drink. 
His brief surge of jealousy was swept away by the memory of what the three
of them had shared.

The first to recover, LaCroix rose and brought the bottle of blood from the
table, along with three very old goblets. "Roman glassware," he remarked. 
"Amazing how man's monuments crumble and disappear, while what seems fragile
and is often overlooked survives." He poured for each of them, then eased
himself down on the bed. His words were yet another lesson of some kind,
Nicholas knew, but he let him sink into his mind without examination. Later
LaCroix's words would resurface and he would reflect carefully upon them.

Time now to bask in the afterglow. Time now to watch LaCroix's hand idly
caress his daughter while he shivered in pleasure at the sense of it on his
own skin. Time now to hear the flutter of tiny wings outside the window and
feel the dawn ruffle over his skin as he sank into the peace of dreamless
sleep…

Do you understand now, mon fils?, he felt across the link. Do you
comprehend how much more we are, how what we are strengthens us? Hmmn…oui,
mon pere, mon maitre…

Sleep, then, and do not fear, for you are not alone.

FIN

Molly/StormBorn
Cousin/FKPagan/Ravenette/Seducer/Dark Trinity/Forum
stormborne@excite.com
Remember: always pillage *before* you burn!





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