Wind (1/2)

LaCroix/Female
Explicit
Permission granted to archive on the JADFE site

LaCroix property of TriStar/Triona and Stephanie property of me and a few others.

A little background... way back when 'Fallen Idol' first aired,  me and  some friends on IRC
decided that if Nick had his 'Pit of Condemned Bimbos',  that LaCroix must have a harem,
being older and much more accomplished <g>

And so we started writing (and posting) what we called 'Harem' stories, for lack of a better term.
Eventually, we got bored, and added Methos, Nick, even a few XF folks, and more characters,
and ended up with stories that  spanned about four centuries into the future. But those are stories
for another day. <g>

Here is one such offering.  Enjoy!

                                     ******************

Triona knocked on LaCroix's office door softly, it was very late and she doubted he was in, but
just in case. She had had what must have been a nightmare, but she couldn't really remember.
All she knew was that she couldn't get back to sleep.

She had decided to get the book of writings by Pelagius that was in LaCroix's office, this one
actually in Latin, to keep her mind off of her dreams. She had been trying  to learn the wretched
language and had found reading in it seemed to keep it in her mind better, though it might take
hours to get through one page.

Getting no reply, she entered the office, only a dim lamp on the desk illuminating the room,
casting soft shadows. Triona went to the large bookcase, quickly finding the volume she wanted.
She still  found it hard to reconcile that the author had lived not long after LaCroix had been
mortal.

She turned to leave, as quietly as she had come, stopping when she saw Stephanie sleeping
peacefully on the couch, one arm flung over her head, the cover half off of her. Moving softly
over to where she lay, Triona noticed the fresh wounds at her throat. Gently pulling the cover
over her, she tucked it in securely. She looked so innocent when she slept, Triona thought in
amusement, unlike when she was awake.

"She looks quite innocent does she not?" LaCroix asked quietly. "But of course we know the
truth."

Triona looked over her shoulder at LaCroix standing behind her. "Yes we do," she agreed,
smiling as she reached down to smooth a stray lock of hair from Stephanie's cheek.

LaCroix watched her, a small smile on his lips. Could there be anymore of a contrast, he
thought to himself. Stephanie, his little exhibitionist, and Triona, reserved and steady. And yet,
the two were as close as two could be. Sometimes he would watch their interaction, unobserved
by the two women. He always found it illuminating.

He moved closer to Triona, till her back was touching his chest, placing his hands on her bare
shoulders. "You are very fond of her." It was a statement, more than a question.

She nodded. "Very. I can't imagine being here without her. It would be so quiet."

LaCroix chuckled at that. "Indeed." He ran his hands down her bare arms, making her shiver in
delight at the touch. He reached her hands and the book she held in them. He took it, holding it
up to see what it was. "Pelagius? And in Latin. My you are feeling ambitious tonight, my dear."

"I had a bad dream, and couldn't get back to sleep," Triona explained, "I thought it might take my
mind of off dark thoughts."

LaCroix set the book down on the end table and turned Triona around to face him. He tilted her
head up, looking into her eyes. "I can think of a better way to keep your mind from dark thoughts."
The last was whispered into her mouth as LaCroix's lips came down on hers.

Triona sighed into his questing mouth, as the familiar feel of his lips on hers, and his hands on her
body stole over her. No worries, no thoughts, only pure feeling, washing over her in warm waves.

LaCroix moved her back, towards the love seat opposite the sofa. The hands he slid over the thin
silk of her nightgown burnt her flesh like cold fire. He slowly began to move the fabric up over her
hips. Triona stiffened, suddenly remembering where she was, making a small noise of protest.

LaCroix pulled away from her slightly. "What troubles you my dear?" he asked, knowing very well
what it was.

"I can't," her voice trembled, "not with Stephanie in the room." The look of distress on her face was
quite genuine.

"I assure you, my dear, Stephanie will not wake for hours," LaCroix said in his most persuasive tone.
"She is quite exhausted from our earlier *exertions*." He began to place feather light kisses down
her jaw to her throat, stopping to taste the hollow of her throat.

Triona whimpered as his tongue sent frissions of feeling washing over her nerve endings. "I can't,
please, LaCroix." She looked at him with troubled eyes.

"Not even if I wish it, Triona? Not for me?" LaCroix's voice was soft and gentle. He waited to see
how she would respond, watching the play of emotions running over her normally unreadable face
- well, unreadable to others. He saw her desire to please him warring with her unwillingness to be
taken in front of someone else, even someone who would not be aware they were even there. All
the while he was running his hands over her,  finally coming to rest under her breasts. He stroked
his thumbs over the thin silk and the nipples beneath, feeling them harden under his touch.

She arched into his touch against her mental wish, her body once again betraying her. With an effort
of will, she tore her mind away from what LaCroix's hands were doing, and the feelings they were
causing. "I will if you make me, but not by my own choice," she replied in a shuddering voice.

So, she would stand on principal, not that he really doubted it, it was one of the qualities he admired
most about her. "You know I would never force you, Triona" She nodded, relief flooding her face.
He kissed her lightly on the cheek. "I'll bid you a good night then." He leaned over, picking up her
book, handing it to her. Still overcome by passion, she was barely able to hold it. "Good reading."
He smiled an enigmatic smile, and was gone,  leaving her alone with a sleeping Stephanie in his
office.

Triona sank down on the love seat trying to catch her breath, trying to control her racing heart. She
knew when she had said 'no' that this would be the outcome. LaCroix believed in dealing with the
results of one's choices.

She listened to the wind wailing outside, blowing hard off the lake, calling to her. Suddenly the urge
to be outside, in the wind, gripped her. She could not bear another moment indoors. Triona
grabbed the cover that was across the back of the love seat, throwing it over her shoulders and
quickly made her way down the stairs to the front door.

Wind (2/2)

Heedless of the cold wind, Triona ran down the path, the cold air like a balm against her burning
skin. She pushed aside the thought that she would catch her death of cold out here in the middle
of a late October night, clad in nothing but a silk nightgown and a shawl. She didn't care, she
wanted the power of the wind to take her completely. To let the impending storms fury scour
away all feeling, to just '*be*.

With a start, Triona realized she had come to her favorite place - the old oak tree that that stood
at the edge of the wood, looking over the lake.  Here, without the forests protection, the wind
slammed into her. She looked up, watching the wind blow pieces of cloud across the moonlit
sky.

She leaned against the ancient tree, her arms stretched out behind her, grasping the trunk. Closing
her eyes, Triona let the wind buffet her with it's wildness. She disengaged her mind from all
thought, not really even feeling the cold, it was just another sensation. Almost familiar, she
realized suddenly, like the odd feeling when LaCroix drank from her when it was just at the edge
of him taking to much. The same cool tingle, the same raw power that seared her blood.

That was how LaCroix found her - hair flowing across the tree's trunk, held there by the wind,
arms outstretched behind her, her skin so very pale in the moonlight. He had expected her to
come to his rooms after a suitable interval, but when she never came, curious, he decided that he
would find her.

He should have realized her pride would never allow her to come to him. Triona would merely
accept his decision and say not another word. As he looked for her, LaCroix had felt an odd
tingle through the bond they shared. He had followed the feeling outside, finally finding her here.
LaCroix, angry, damned her for her stubbornness. Being out here in this weather was incredibly
foolish.

Triona stared at him with eyes that were wild and fey, looking at him and through him all at the
same time. LaCroix had the oddest sensation that he was looking into someone else's eyes, or,
at least, someone sharing Triona's familiar ones. He brushed away the fanciful thought, reaching
for her, fully intending to carry her back to the estate and a warming fire.  As his hands reached
her waist, her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling his head down to hers. Her kiss attacked
his mouth with a fury that startled him, and aroused him. Instead of taking her away, he found
himself returning her kiss with an equal passion.

LaCroix found himself overtaken by the same mood that seemed to hold Triona, as the wind
blew across their bodies, it's voice calling to both of them. She grasped his close cropped hair
in a fierce grip, deepening the kiss almost as if she were trying to devour him. So chilled was she
that he could barely feel the heat that normally radiated off her.

For a brief moment, he considered ending this now, remembering it was a fragile mortal body he
held in his grasp.  But he was unable, or unwilling to break the spell that seemed to possess them
both. As Triona moaned under his touch, his kiss, LaCroix threw all caution away, grinding his
body into hers.

Her fingers started working at the buttons on his shirt. In her hunger for him she practically ripped
them from their holes. As she worked on his shirt, LaCroix dealt with the remainder of his clothing.
Between the two of them he was quickly undressed, naked to the winds power and Triona's
questing hands.

The silk of her gown caressed his bare flesh as she rubbed against him wantonly. Wanting to feel
her unclad body against his, LaCroix pushed the gown off her shoulders where it slipped to the
ground unheeded.  Triona's hands roamed his body, finding all the places that long familiarity had
taught her pleased him. He gasped as her hands found his already hardening rod.

With a delicate hand, barely touching him, her fingers ran over it's length. LaCroix shuddered at
the touch, so light it was almost like the brush of feathers on his sensitized skin. He leaned against
her, his head resting on hers as he let the sensations wash over him before he began his own
ministrations.

His hands blazed a trail down her body, tangling his fingers in the damp curls between her legs.
He cupped her mound completely with one strong hand, pressing has he rotated the heel against
her. Triona moaned as his fingers moved in deeper, pushing up against her with a firm, inexorable
pressure.  Almost on tiptoe, she attempted to shift her weight, but to no avail, the slow sweet
torture continued. She was almost writhing on his fingertips, wanting them deeper, wanting more.

Her hands had wrought their own torture, LaCroix had held out as long as he was able, reveling
in the sensations they caused . But finally, he reached the breaking point. With a growl he
grasped her wrists in one hand, holding them over her head while the fingers of the other finally
granted her desire, plunging deep into her hot, wet center. He moved them in and out in a hard,
fast rhythm that made Triona moan. She fought against the hand that held her, but his grip was
too strong.

She did have some freedom of movement however, and used it to impale herself on his long
fingers, even his forceful thrusts not enough for her. As his fingers moved in her, his thumb moved
firmly against her clit, making her shudder, her breath coming in short, hard gasps. Her climax hit
like a wall of fire against the cold wind that tore at her body - fire and ice. She arched violently
against the hands that held her as her body tremored in reaction, her screams lost in the wind.

LaCroix loosed his hold on her wrists, pulling her to him in a crushing embrace. Before she could
come down from the zenith she had reached, he slid his hard length into her. Pushing her back
against the tree, he pulled her legs up over his hips, powerful hands holding her firmly in place.

He moved in and out of her, each time reentering harder, faster. Triona was panting, only little
gasps escaped her now as LaCroix's body pounded into hers, filling her again and again. He
moved his hand down between their bodies, his fingers finding her clit once more.  Now her gasps
were whimpers, barely audible, as Triona reached the limit of her strength.

LaCroix's fangs found the vein that ran down the side of her breast, piercing the delicate skin easily.
She cried out once more as the feel of his fangs in her, drinking her lifeblood, pushed her over the
edge into a tempest of light and color. Her inner muscles convulsed around him as his own release
took him.

LaCroix drank deep, savoring the difference in her blood this night - changed, yet still familiar. He
pursued the differences, wanting to find their source, needing to know why. Triona's cold body
went limp against his, bringing him back to the waking world. Realizing how close to the brink she
was, he withdrew from her slowly, relishing these last moments, the last drops of her blood.
LaCroix realized that he would probably never know, and would have to be satisfied with that.

Gathering her in his arms, he stood there for a moment, allowing the wind to take them one more
time. He looked down at the still form cradled in his arms,  kissing her tenderly on swollen lips.
LaCroix sighed, so fragile, he thought, would she even remember the strangeness that was this
night?

LaCroix launched into the night sky, leaving the wind behind.

End
 

altariel@usa.net

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