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.
Archiving permission: www.fkfanfic.com, Seducers, JADFE
Comments to: stormborn@prodigy.net
Warning: explicit m/f sex (oh, big surprise, right? <g>) and rather a bit of sappiness...Moonshadow (01/01)
By Molly Schneider
Copyright 1999She was pounding down the bloodwine as if there would be no more; no more blood, no more tomorrows. When she saw the trepidation in her bartender's eyes she scowled darkly and took a couple of bottles back to the office where she could brood in peace.
Men, she thought darkly, settling deeply into the big leather chair behind the desk. Nicolas, with his suffocating neediness and wearisome self-hatred... and *that* one. She took another deep swallow and savored the dark taste in her mouth. A thousand years she'd put up with his moods, teasing him out of his bleak spells, weathering his rages by making herself as unnoticeable as possible. How could she not, when his mouth quirked up as he made some drily witty remark? How could she not, when he turned on all the power of his considerable charm and smiled at her with those remarkable eyes? Not to mention his physical beauty...
Then why, she asked herself, was she sitting here sulking? Jealousy was close to it, but not really. His amours had never disturbed her, nor hers him. No. It was that irritating habit of taking her
cheerfully for granted that had her in a spiteful mood.Satisfied at pinpointing the cause, she opened the second bottle to consider the solution. She had to do something; she wasn't prepared to spend the next thousand years being treated as a Frenchman treated his wife, something comfortable and reliable but not worthy of regard. Made reckless by the blood, she glanced at the clock. An hour before his show was over. Time enough.
*****
LaCroix climbed the stairs, content with his life. Nicholas was warming towards him; lately he'd been spending more time in the company of his own kind, indulging in *real* blood--human blood--occasionally. His 'Nightcrawler' persona, originally taken on to goad Nicholas, had become entertaining in its own right, and Janette was back, comfortably ensconced in the apartment over the
Raven.He opened the door to the apartment and blinked, momentarily startled. Candles glowed off the polished surfaces; a heady incense drifted through the rooms. The deeply yearning voice of a French chanteuse played ever so softly on the stereo. The centerpiece of this stage set lounged provocatively on the couch, a glass in her hand.
A chain of gold strung with baroque pearls wound through the gleaming hair piled on her head, while another strand dipped between breasts nearly as white and luminous. A tight sheath of deep red velvet clung to the contours of her body, exposing shapely legs.
"What a lovely surprise," he said, smiling at her. She didn't smile back, though her eyes never left his.
"Come here." He sat on the edge of the couch and leaned over her. That steady regard was beginning to unnerve him; something was afoot here, though he wasn't sure what. As she wound an arm around his neck, pulling him closer, he caught the smell of her perfume blended with her own elusive scent. Her kiss began with the merest brush of her mouth across his. The tip of her tongue flicked out to caress the contours of his lips, then a fangtip nipped him sharply and his nostrils flared at the scent of his own blood. Deliberately she licked it off, then suckled the wounded lip. He moaned softly, but when he would have pressed his tongue into her mouth she drew back. He sighed and sat up. "What have I done now, Janette?"
Sitting up beside him, she patted his shoulder. "Relax, LaCroix. You're not being punished." Her hands slipped below his jacket and pushed it off. As she rose to fold it and hang it neatly over a chair back his eyes followed her.
"You have been rather mean to me lately," he observed warily.
She moved behind him, kneading his shoulders through his shirt. "Think of it as my way of retaining my self-respect. I won't swoon at your feet, LaCroix, you know that." Her words faded away in the face of the deep pleasure he was receiving from her hands. Eyes closed, he let her pick up one of his hands, then the other, to undo his cufflinks and massage the muscles of his forearms. One by one she
undid his shirt studs; when his shirt fell open she spread her hands on his chest, purring slightly as she kneaded his pectorals. Then she rose."Come," she said.
Her bed was already prepared, framed by a brace of candles in tall wrought-iron holders, coverlet folded back and the extra pillows stacked on the floor. He would have moved to embrace her but she turned away to sit on the bed. "Take your clothes off." The command was delivered in a husky whisper that sent prickles of arousal up through his belly. Naked, he slid into her bed, the silken touch of the Porthault linens a tantalizing promise of her still softer skin. He was still suspicious, but complied when she urged him onto his stomach. A brief moment of waiting, then the aroma of vetiver... Her talented hands pressed firmly into his muscles, working out every kink and knot. His shoulders, back and arms, his thighs; by the time she reached his Achilles tendons his suspicions were forgotten in the haze of sensuous languor.
With a murmur of contentment he rolled over. She still knelt over him; he ran a hand up one silk-stockinged thigh and with practiced ease undid the garter. His hand swept back down, taking the stocking with it--she never moved, though flecks of gold shone from her eyes. Ah, was this part of the game? A small smile curled his lips. He undid the other garter and slid that stocking down. Yet another scent was added to the mix: that of her arousal.
And still she did not move, though there was more gold in her eyes now than blue.
Hmmn. The dress next? No. Raising himself on an elbow he unwound the chain of pearls from her hair, letting it loose to tumble about her shoulders. She shifted slightly, moving one thigh over to
straddle him, holding herself inches above his stirring cock.The tight sheath of velvet encasing her was fastened with a row of buttons down the front. He undid them one by one, eyes on the sweet flesh slowly revealed to him. Lightning-quick, he flung the dress to the floor, thinking she would at least flinch in startlement.
She smiled. He caught his breath, faced with the eternal mystery of woman. The moon goddess' daughter leaned forward until she was stretched along his chest. He could feel the buds of her nipples as she cupped his face and kissed him deeply, drawing his tongue into her mouth and scraping it with her fangs. Her thighs tightened against him as the taste of the blood quickened them both; he could feel the heat radiating from her on his erection. Fangs extended, they slashed at each other's mouths until he snarled and gripped her hips, driving her down on to him.
She only flung her head back and laughed, her face smeared with his blood. Memories rose in him of old tales from his youth, frightening tales of maenads and furies. She rode him, milking his cock, her
inner muscles clenching him in a sure and ruthless grip. Leaning over him again she hissed, "Do you still take me for granted, LaCroix? Your faithful companion, your adoring daughter?"In a burst of lust and fury he grabbed her and rolled, pinning her beneath him as he slammed into her, maddened still further by the knowledge that he was not overpowering her, that she was letting him
do this.Bodies slick with bloodsweat grappled with each other; cruel hands tangled in nightdark hair, scraped viciously along straining flesh. Cries both feral and divine filled the room, muffled moments later--
It was not anger he tasted in her blood. It was hurt, but beneath the hurt and tempering it was a deep and abiding tenderness. Afterward he lay silent, until she curled into him and settled her cheek against his chest.
"Janette--" he began, but she lay her fingertips against his lips.
"Shhh." Turning, she stretched full length upon him, wrapping her arms around his neck and nestling her face against his. Covered by the cloak of her hair he slept in the embrace of night and the moon.
FIN
Molly/StormBorn
UF/FKPagan/Cousin/Inn-mate/Seducer/Ravenette
stormborn@prodigy.net
http://members.tripod.com/~StormBorn/fk.htm