The characters of Nick Knight and Lucien Lacroix do not belong
to me.  They belong to James Parriot and Sony/Tri-Star.  However,
I'm gaining no profit other my own enjoyment out of my use of them.
This story is archived on Jadfe with the permission of the author.

My thanks to Julia Kocich and Kathy Whelton for their most excellent
editing.

Warning:  knife play, blood sport, mild violence, explicit m/m sex
(Nick/Lacroix), all consensual.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"And what are we looking for, Nicholas?"

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

"What do you want, Lacroix?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What are you doing, Lacroix?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Ah."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Please," he whispered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Well, Nicholas, how fortuitous."

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

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

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

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

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

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

FIN

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