Standard disclaimers: The Forever Knight universe, with its background, locations and characters, are the property of James Parriott and Sony/Tristar. No infringement is intended. This fiction is for entertainment purposes only.
Archiving to: www.fkfanfic.com, JADFE, and The Inn of Crossed Swords (when I can get around to it, sigh)
Comments and champagne to stormborn@prodigy.netThis bit of silliness is for Fenris, who wanted a New Year's story, and for Elfin, 'cause it has Vachon in it. <eg>
Auld Lang Syne . . . One More Time
By Molly Schneider
Copyright 1998He had worked Christmas Eve and Christmas Night, but Nick had adamantly refused to pull the New Year's Eve shift. "Sorry, Cap," he'd told Reese, "but it's a tradition in my family. I can't disappoint them." Having met Knight's father, Reese had shuddered inwardly at the thought of facing a 'disappointed' Lucien LaCroix and promptly crossed the detective off the duty roster.
The party was really getting into gear when Nick walked into the Raven. There were more colourful costumes out on the dance floor then would normally be seen there--he noticed Urs wearing a skimpy powder blue number with ostrich feathers around the hem--and even those who clung to the more customary black glittered with jewels and beading. The DJ was playing 'endurance contest', keeping the highest BPM he could come up with going on and on and on. No one had yet come up with a satisfactory blend of blood and champagne but from the excited squeals and laughter rocketing around the room Nick knew this hadn't proved a problem.
He hesitated for only the barest fraction of a second at the bar before accepting a glass of the New Year's Eve special and when he took a sip of the concoction was glad he had the excuse of a special occasion. This was *good*. He took another swallow, trying to figure out just what made it so good, then thought, the hell with it, and downed it all. "More?" Jack shouted over the music and he nodded, holding out his glass. "Looking good tonight, Nicky." He smiled back, feeling a warm rush to his heart. Jack was a lean panther of a vampire with a seductively white-toothed grin . . . "You, too," Nick shouted back, feeling an almost uncontrollable urge to kiss him.
An arm flung around his shoulders distracted him. "Hey, Nick, where's your partner?" Alma slurred at him. "Tracy?" he asked, confused. The voluptuous blonde snorted. "No, *Donald*. I *like* Donald. He's so . . . dangerous."
"Don? Dangerous?"
"Oooh, yeah. You can almost smell the garlic on him, you know." She shivered elaborately, then moved off into the crowd.
He was sipping on his third and drinking in the sight of the crowd when Vachon sauntered up to him. "Great party, huh, Knight?"
"Everybody seems to be having a good time."
"Oh, yeah. Man, you should have been here earlier. Urs did this dance-thing with the new girl, Veronique--*wow*!" The Spaniard shook his head in disbelief.
"Have you seen LaCroix?"
"Oh, yeah; your dad's been around." He leaned a little closer, breathing in Nick's ear. "But he's not here right now, is he?"
Nick somehow found himself in one of the darker corners of the club, his back against the wall and Vachon's groin grinding against his as they sucked eagerly on each other's tongues. "Oh, man," moaned the Spaniard. Out of the corner of his eye Nick saw a strong pale hand plant itself on the wall.
"Oh, shit," he said.
"Huh?" Then Vachon blinked as he felt the looming presence just behind him. "Caca."
"Enjoying the party, gentlemen?"
Vachon couldn't exactly turn; the Roman was too close behind him. Extremely close, he noted. "Uh, LaCroix, hi. This, um, isn't what it looks like. . ." He blinked in startlement as LaCroix let out a peal of laughter.
"I believe one of the back rooms is unoccupied. Shall we?"
The two younger vampires followed him somewhat uncertainly down the hall and into a private room. LaCroix took his son by the arm. "Let's see, Nicholas, I believe you were--here," he said, positioning Nick against the wall. "And young Javier, you were *here*", arranging Vachon face-to-face against Nick. "And I'll be here," he finished, pressing close against Vachon's back as he planted one hand on either side of the two.
Nick looked over Vachon's shoulder to see his father smiling wickedly at him, and grinned back. Shrugging, he pulled Vachon back into their interrupted embrace, sucking the other's tongue into his mouth as LaCroix trailed languorous kisses down the Spaniard's neck. Vachon moaned deep in his throat and began dragging Nick's shirt out of his jeans, running his hands up the ivory flesh, as at the same time LaCroix's cool fingers started to undo his own buttons.
"Um, wait a minute," Javier asked. "Where are we going with this?"
"I hate to say this," answered LaCroix. "I really *hate* to say this, but--let's get naked."
There was a mirror on the ceiling of the little room and LaCroix took a moment to admire his own alabaster-pale body as he lay on the chaise highlighted by the ivory skin of his son and the light olive tone of the Spaniard. Then once again he arranged his two delectable guests. Vachon complied willingly, drawing a wet, ripe tongue up the length of Nick's shaft. Nick groaned at the sensation, then groaned again as he felt LaCroix's fingers enter him, preparing for entry.
Knight's cock was just as gorgeous as he'd imagined it would be, Vachon thought, as he opened his mouth wider to take it in. Mmm, he could see why the old man kept such a tight leash on him . . .
Sweet mother of God, thought Nick fervently, as Vachon's mouth worked his erection, he does know what he's doing. "LaCroix," he demanded. "Fuck me, will you!"
"As you wish, mon fils," the velvety voice caressed his ear, and then that familiar cock was thrusting ruthlessly into him. "God, yesss . . . " he hissed. He felt as if he were being torn apart, not by the pressure, but by the sheer rapturous pleasure.
LaCroix half-closed his eyes, reveling in the tight, silky embrace of his son's most intimate muscles, then glanced at Vachon's hand. "Vachon? If you wish to shift position, I believe you'll find Nicholas to be talented as well as beautiful."
"Oh, yeah . . . right." They shared a laugh as Vachon reversed himself so his cock was in Nick's face, and Nick set to work justifying his father's praise. He closed his eyes, surrendering conscious thought to the bliss of the flesh.
Cocks shoving into hungry mouths, into a wanton ass; hands grasping eagerly at seductive flesh; snarls from three throats filling the room, twin hungers rising, rising . . .
As Nick was chanting a steady stream of "ohgodohgodohgodohgod" in response to LaCroix's powerful slamming, Vachon raised questioning eyes to the Roman: one did not take without permission. LaCroix nodded, just before he sank his fangs into his son's throat. Nick screamed, and screamed again as Vachon bit into his thigh, then his own teeth were tearing at the Spaniard to get at the most delicious cocktail of the party.
As the three slowly came around they heard the chanting from the main room: "Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!" Vachon was first, laughing so hard that he fell off the chaise with a thump, then Nick allowed his own mirth to bubble out of him as he rolled back onto LaCroix.
"Gentlemen?" inquired the elder, an eyebrow quirking upwards.
"The kiss! You're just supposed to get a *kiss* on New Year's!" they chorused.
"Ah . . . Oh, my . . . yes, I can see that--that--" he started to snort, then broke into outright guffaws. He pulled Nick tighter and planted a juicy kiss on the come-and-bloodstained lips. "Happy New Year!"
<FIN>