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, ICS, JADFE Comments to stormborn@prodigy.netThis is for Amie, who tied it all together.
Danger Zone (01/04)
By Molly Schneider
Copyright 1999When briefing him on his loan to Violent Crimes, Reese had been circumspect and thoroughly professional. The series of brutal assaults around several of Toronto's seedier nightclubs might escalate, might turn into one or more homicides. With Nick on the case, they were hoping to catch the perp before such a thing happened.
There was something the captain wasn't telling him though, and Nick had a good suspicion what it was. His meeting with Dunkirk and Belasio, the detectives he'd be working with, confirmed it. They needed him, Belasio remarked in a bluff manner that reminded him of Schanke, because none of the guys in Violent Crimes were good-looking enough.
"Uh, no offense," Dunkirk added hastily. He was a little more the serious of the two, a stocky balding man in his forties; Belasio had the hangdog looks of a minor character in an old gangster movie.
"None taken." Nick grinned at him. "So I'm your bait, eh?"
"That's the size of it," said Belasio. "Can't catch the guy from the outside, gotta get him from the inside. With your record, it looks like you know how to take care of yourself."
Nick nodded, acknowledging the compliment, then turned to study the case folder. "Only a little over half of the victims have been men, though...we're ruling out gay-bashing?"
"So far. We've got one of our own, Rachel Velasquez, as a decoy also."
"Are you sure it's the same perp?"
Dunkirk shrugged. "As sure as we can be. The victims were taken by surprise, their hands were bound behind their backs, and the perp cut them with a knife. Then he ejaculated on them, and left."
"No identification."
"None. 'It was dark.' So they all say. That and 'I was just out for a walk, or a drink' when asked what they were doing in the neighborhood."
Looking over the list of clubs, Nick nodded. "I can see why. Leather bars, sex clubs--who would admit they frequent those places?"
--------
So here he sat, in The Danger Zone, nursing a vodka tonic at the bar. At least it looked like a vodka tonic. Fearful of losing their license, the club owners had willing agreed to his presence; the bartenders were filling his glass with ice, lime wedges, and water. He could keep down the water. Unfortunately, the week he'd spent frequenting this club and others hadn't given him anything to go on. Sure, there were things going on in the private rooms; sure, people left together. But he'd seen no stalkers and nothing suspicious.
"There he is!" The exclamation came from one of the bartenders and was directed, not at him, but at the other bartender. "That guy who was in here last night!"
"Holy..." The other man's voice trailed off into a low whistle of appreciation. "That man could *do* things to you."
"Yeah, and you'd let him," joked his co-worker.
Intrigued, Nick followed their gaze, picking out the figure stepping onto the dance floor. His mouth went dry seconds before a flash of anger shot through him. Rising from his barstool he cut effortlessly through the crowd, his mind only on his prey. Skin tight black jeans encased long, muscular legs and ended just below the hipbone, exposing the navel and the tight pale abdomen. Just below the ribcage, the vest
began--black rubber as supple as skin, slashed with zippers, sleeveless. The vest's hood veiled the face, but didn't conceal the arrogant features: the full lips or the icy eyes. LaCroix led him up the various levels of the dance floor until they were on the uppermost, a railed platform about a yard square.Unconsciously, both he and LaCroix had been walking to the beat; once on the platform his master's movements became more emphatic. Those lean and powerful hips ground promisingly, and Nick fell in with his rhythm even as he hissed, "What are you doing here?"
"I could ask you the same, Nicholas."
"I'm on a case."
"Ah. Are you really?" There was some double entendre there, but Nick was distracted from pursuing it when LaCroix moved closer. A subtle flare of arousal struck him at the feel of those strong thighs interlacing with his own, LaCroix' hip bare inches from his. The pounding bass mimicked the heartbeat he didn't have, whispering of tantalizing and wicked delights. He drew in a deep shuddering breath and gave himself up to the moment.
In his hidden booth the DJ grinned. Now this was something worth his talents. Slowly and steadily he upped the beat and adjusted the bass until it roared through the club like a beast in search of prey, then watched in satisfaction as the couple on the high platform writhed together in perfect synchronization. "Damn, they're hot," he said to himself. Thinking that such a show deserved a spotlight, he gave them one.
Nick started momentarily as the cool beam picked him out and glanced wildly down to the club. His suspicions were confirmed at the sight of faces turned toward him. "LaCroix..." A cool hand drew his face back to his master's.
"There is only you and I, Nicholas," he breathed, and his voice sent shivers down Nick's spine. "Only you and I." He took his son's hand and, turning, led him down the steps.
Blindly, Nick followed, through the club to the dark corridor leading to the private rooms. His vampire hearing picked up the sounds of passion from behind the locked doors. At the last door, LaCroix produced a key. "Wait, I'm on duty, I can't do this."
"Inside, Nicholas." A warning to keep the conversation private. The tiny room was relatively clean; a padded bench covered in black vinyl filled most of it, though Nick didn't miss the ominous eyebolts jutting from the wall at various heights. "Fine, we're inside. I'm on duty."
Silence for a long moment, that ice-pale regard holding him until he wanted to flinch away, then LaCroix breathed, "You don't know what your duty is." Circling Nick, he continued, "You don't know what your wants are, your desires, your needs."
Again that wave of arousal swept him, prickling his skin, hardening his nipples, stirring his groin. He could not respond, only close his eyes at his master's touch upon his cheek. "I'm going to show you, Nicholas."
<end part one>
Danger Zone (02/04)
By Molly Schneider
Copyright 1999"I don't know what you mean," Nick said tentatively, his voice husky with desire. "I want you."
The slow circling continued. "When it suits you to admit it. When the desire becomes so strong that you can't deny it any longer, then you seek me out." LaCroix paused and leaned over his shoulder, lips brushing lightly against the side of his neck. A small moan escaped him and he submitted to the hands that came around him, pulling his tshirt from his jeans. The garment was dropped to the floor, then those hands returned to his chest, stroking flesh already slick with arousal. He turned to take the other in his arms, but LaCroix was already stepping away. "I do all I can to give you pleasure; the sight of you wanton in my bed is its own reward--but not reward enough."
"I'm here, now," Nick urged.
"And tomorrow--like so many tomorrows--you will behave like a violated monk. I've had enough of it, Nicholas." Turning away, LaCroix zipped open a black gym bag. "Take off the rest of your clothes."
For a moment his hands lingered on the waistband of his jeans. He didn't know where LaCroix was going with this, but every part of him yearned for his master, and what LaCroix could give him. He was naked when LaCroix turned back to him, a set of black leather restraints in his hands. Dumbfounded, Nick let them be buckled around his wrists, then chained together and the chain hooked to an eyebolt in the ceiling. "I don't know what you're up to," he said. "But you know these can't hold me."
"They're not intended to," LaCroix said calmly as he stooped to fasten another set around Nick's ankles. When he'd fixed those to eyebolts in the floor about two feet apart, he stood and continued. "They're intended to help you focus."
"Focus? On what?"
"On this." That sensuous mouth seized his own, the lips lingering and sucking on his own, the tip of LaCroix' tongue flickering over their contours and delicately tracing the sensitive inner rim of his bottom lip. Instinctively Nick moved to put his arms around the other--and he couldn't. Moaning softly with frustration, he leaned forward as far was his restraints would let him, hoping that LaCroix would embrace him.
He didn't, but his tongue invaded the eager mouth. It was a cool and deliberate invasion; Nick had never quite realized that there were subtle differences in sensation between his tongue being stroked or his fangs being caressed. LaCroix knew all the nerve endings in his mouth, and played them like his violin.
A light nuzzle down his throat and then that wicked mouth dropped to his left shoulder, sucking on the deltoid bunched by its position. Nick bit his own lip as he realized what was coming next, seconds before LaCroix' tongue began a slow teasing of his exposed armpit. His cock jerked with the intensity of his desire, and he found himself gasping, "Please, LaCroix, please!"
"Focus, Nicholas," was the only answer, as his master moved across his chest to lick his over armpit.
Focus? How could he 'focus'--whatever that was--when LaCroix was turning him into a mass of twitching nerve endings? When his very position--restrained and exposed--aroused him? He let his head fall back and closed his eyes as thumbs rubbed his hard nipples, the only sound coming from him the rasp of his deep breathing. "That's it, Nicholas. Much better. What do you feel?"
"Good," he whispered, then realization broke like lightning. Everything LaCroix was doing felt *good*--it wasn't secondary to his orgasm; it was good in and of its own. "So good."
That tongue replaced the thumbs on his nipples, pleasuring first one, then the other, as the hands stroked down his stretched torso. He opened his eyes to see LaCroix drop to his knees in front of him, trailing his fingertips up and down Nick's flanks as he kissed and licked the bowl of his navel. Nick realized that those sensuous lips weren't going to close around his cock anytime soon, and was a little surprised to find that he wasn't disappointed, that the sensations he was receiving right now were worth luxuriating in.
His father knew his body. He leaned forward, between Nick's spread legs, and bent his cropped head to his inner thigh. A warm wet wash of tongue swept across the area, then the licking was concentrated on the skin over his artery, pressing subtly on it. Nick gasped. LaCroix stopped dead. Focus, thought Nick. When he had himself under control again he said, "I like that; go on."
Little nips ranging along his thigh and, then, along the inside of the other...Nick felt as if he were floating, alive only to the sweetness of his flesh and not its demands. From his position on the floor, LaCroix unlocked the ankle restraints, then stood to his full height and took down the chain from the eyebolt in the ceiling. Nick looked at his sire, questioning.
"So ends step one, Nicholas. What is it that you desire?"
"You?"
LaCroix smiled, a genuinely warm smile. "Think again. Desire and want are not the same things."
Turning it over in his mind, he thought about the sensations of LaCroix's hands and tongue upon him. "Pleasure?" he ventured. "Sensation."
An eyebrow quirked. "Are you asking me? No, what do *you* desire, Nicholas."
"Pleasure," he answered, putting his freed arms around the other's shoulders and leaning to kiss him. Hovering above those lips he breathed, "and you pleasure better than anyone."
"Good. And now, Nicholas, step two...what is it that you want?"
"You!" he answered, laughing.
"I'm flattered. Now, you're going to hold very still. You're not to move; you are to focus, only this time, on what it is you *want*."
<end part two>
Danger Zone (03/04)
By Molly Schneider
Copyright 1999As LaCroix went to work on him once more, Nick wondered whether he would be able to focus, to just stand still and revel in what LaCroix was doing to him. It was almost too much, that mouth and those hands pleasuring him, and taking pleasure from him. As the kisses and caresses, the touches and the tender bites blurred into a single song of sensation, he thought perhaps he could do this...
And then the sensations sharpened, as LaCroix centered his attentions. First Nick's nipples, sucked until they hurt, then bitten sharply. He cried out, but kept himself for reaching for his lover-tormentor. But then LaCroix' tongue snaked down his spine, and he clenched his ass in dread...yes. Those dispassionate hands spread across his buttocks, kneading them. He waited for the penetrating tongue, but it never went so far; it lingered over the curves of his ass, slipping slowly into his cleft and just as slowly out. I can't stand this, Nick thought desperately, then, how can *he* stand it?
LaCroix moved around him, dropping to a squat in front of him. His face was bare inches from Nick's cock, his breath cool against the taut and heated genitals. Nick looked down at him and barely suppressed the savage impulse to grab the other's head and force his cock between those ripe lips. "Good God," he snarled harshly, "how much do you expect me to take?"
Pale eyes stared up at him. "What do you want, Nicholas?" hissed LaCroix.
Suddenly he knew. "I want my ass licked and fingered and fucked. I want my cock in someone's mouth, and I want their sweet blood down my throat," he rasped. "I want to be taken, damm it!"
"By me?" Testing...
"Yes. You, because I know you and love you; because you can move me like no other. But no, not only you."
Slowly, LaCroix opened his mouth. Quick as a striking cobra, Nick seized the cropped head and shoved his cock deep. He gave the other no chance, he rammed it in until he felt himself push past the throat muscles. Harsh breath rasping through his dropped fangs, he fucked the other brutally, until the blood need rose in him and he held his hand out for LaCroix' wrist. "Give it to me!"
He tore into the vein and as the blood flooded his mouth he came, shooting his seed triumphantly down LaCroix' throat. Weakly he dropped to his knees; after a moment he raised his eyes to his master. His first flush of guilt was wiped away by the look of bliss in the other's eyes. Awestruck, he stared at the other. He reached out a trembling
hand to stroke the other's face, as if touching the face of God. "Take me," he asked quietly. "Please.""We're not through, Nicholas."
"But I want this. Please...I want you inside me, so badly."
Rising, LaCroix held out his hand to help his favorite to his feet. When Nick swayed, the other caught him and laid him gently on the padded bench. Automatically they fell into position, LaCroix between Nick's splayed legs, leaning over him. Nick wrapped his arms around his master's neck. "No play, not now," he whispered in his ear. "I want you to fuck me."
LaCroix understood. Disregarding lubricant as unnecessary, he pushed just the head of his cock into Nick's ass. Nick moaned, his sphincter grasping at it hungrily. "Give it to me..." That cock he knew so well sank into him, stretching the walls of his rectum, filling him, and he rose on the wave of his fulfillment. He fell in with the rhythm of LaCroix' thrusts as they took him higher and higher...a hand cupped his face and he fought his eyes open to meet his master's gaze. "What do you feel, Nicholas?"
"Power. Such power..." It was true, he felt neither diminished nor degraded by the act, but as if he were a giant ruling over the earth. He grabbed LaCroix' ass. "Fuck me harder," he demanded. With a flicker of a smile the other complied, slamming into him. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh, their mingled grunts and rasping breath--Nick
wondered whether he'd ever really heard it before. He liked it. He felt the snake of bloodlust coiling tighter within himself--and he liked that, too. As if he'd sensed the thought, LaCroix leaned down to lap at his throat. "Yes, do it," Nick urged.The pain in his throat was so sharp, so sweet! He arched his back and screamed, sinking his own fangs deep and splattering LaCroix' pale belly with his come while his ass clamped down hard on the cock inside him. Spasm after spasm shook them; they clung together in victory.
Afterwards came that crystal awareness that he'd become used to. As he slowly drifted down, he found LaCroix looking at him intently. "All right," Nick said, grinning. "You've proved I like it. Is that news?"
"No. *You've* proven that you know what you want. That you can take your pleasure without any need to couch it in excuses."
Nick started to argue, then closed his mouth and thought it over. Excuses... perhaps LaCroix was right. How often had he hid behind them? That LaCroix had seduced him into it, that he couldn't help himself... He smiled. "I hesitate to ask what the next lesson is."
"What you need, Nicholas, remember?"
"I don't understand."
His lover's pale eyes stared into his, searching, for a long time. At last he said quietly, "I had hoped that you would. I had hoped that I was mistaken; that you were aware of your need and only chose to conceal it from me." He moved from Nick's embrace to go to the gym bag and take out two bottles. "Drink up."
"I'm not hungry."
"Drink. You'll need this."
<end part three>
Danger Zone (04/04)
By Molly Schneider
Copyright 1999There was something in LaCroix' tone, something in the way he moved as he once again fastened the restraints around Nick's wrists. Puzzling this over, Nick stumbled to his feet and watched as the restraints were fastened to eyebolts in the wall, stretching his arms wide. He was facing the wall; he felt the beloved body lean close, and LaCroix said, "I love you, Nicholas."
"As I do you," he responded. Why did it seem almost as if LaCroix dreaded what he was about to do to him, whatever that was? He waited in mingled arousal and fear.
And then the lash hit his back. Shocked, he cried out, then flinched as another blow landed. Another and another, ribbons of liquid fire searing through his flesh and his soul. No, he thought, his mind shying away...no... Yet his traitor body was craving the pain as much as it had every sensation he'd been dealt this evening. He felt his cock harden and he pressed his forehead against the wall. No, no.
Yet he didn't ask LaCroix to stop. Craning his head over his shoulder, he saw what his master was using on him: a cat-of-nine-tails, its leather strands tipped with shiny steel barbs. Shuddering, he moaned low in his throat as he let his head drop. There was a hesitation, then the cat slammed against his ass.
"Sweet Mary--" he gasped. It was savage, even more savage than the strokes across his back, and he could scent his own blood. He could feel something deep inside him breaking, like a chick breaking through its shell. Then the beating stopped.
"What do you need, Nicholas?"
"No," he gasped. "No, you're wrong." All the while his body screamed 'liar!' at him.
His restraints were unclipped from the eyebolts; gentle hands turned him, and restrained him again. Through eyes gone hazy, he watched as LaCroix put the cat back into the gym bag. He closed his eyes for a moment, grateful for the brief respite. Then he heard the distinctive snick. Opening his eyes, he didn't look at his master, but at the
gleaming sharp point of the switchblade. He swallowed hard; he could feel himself yearning towards the knife...They'd played this game before; he thought he knew where he stood. But instead of a teasing slash across his chest, LaCroix used the point of the knife to pierce his skin just over his heart, and drew it downward, slowly. Very slowly; Nick watched with a silent scream as the blade opened up an inch-long cut in his flesh.
"What do you need, Nicholas?"
"No...no..."
"Do you me to stop?" Yes--no, he wanted the brightness of that warm and welcome pain. Why? *Why?*
"Eight hundred years, Nicholas. Think of it; think of me, wondering for so long why you seemed to want my anger just as much as you wanted my caresses. Now I know, my son. Do you?"
The blade slid down another inch, then two. Dear God...
"What do you need, Nicholas? I used to think that it was pride; that you needed to resist me in order to claim your self-respect."
The blade reached the arch of his ribs, and pivoted. "And then, I thought perhaps it was boredom. That you provoked the confrontations only to add sweetness to our reconciliations."
The blade sliced along the line of his ribcage. Nicholas hung suspended by his bonds, in a haze of eroticism and denial. So easy, so pleasant just to stay here, in this red-tinted dream, while LaCroix laid him open...
His head snapped back almost before he felt the slap. It was vicious, and equally vicious was the hand that knotted in his hair and forced him to look at LaCroix. "What do you need, Nicholas?"
You, he almost said, staring into that stone mask. Oh, but not stone; he could see more than that, see the quiver in the full lips, the near-desperation in the eyes, blue as a sky he would never know again. "Let me go," he asked quietly.
As simple as that. LaCroix unbuckled the restraints and turned to drop the knife into the gym bag with the haste of disgust. He remained on that side of the tiny room, his head bowed--waiting for me to get dressed and leave, thought Nick.
Instead, he went to his master. Tenderly he ran his hands up the straight back to link around the broad shoulders, and dropped his cheek against the flesh that meant so much to him. "You ask me what I need, and you think you know the answer. Perhaps you're right; perhaps there is something in myself that can only be released through pain. But I know what I truly need." A slight movement of the proud head; LaCroix
was listening to him. "I need to be held, and to be set free. I need to know that no matter where I go, I'll always have you to come back to."He felt a deep, shaky breath run through the body he embraced. "Nicholas..."
"I need you to love me, LaCroix."
A lithe movement, and his embrace was being returned. Folded into strength and continuity, he laid his wanderer's head against the wall which had always shielded him, even as it confined him. LaCroix bent his head; Nick raised his, they kissed.
"Forgive me," murmured LaCroix.
"No. You weren't all wrong. Kiss me again."
... "Must you return to your mortal pastime tonight?"
"Tonight's almost over, mon pere. I'll check out--if you'll take me home, maybe give me a bath?"
They smiled, sharing that long ago memory. LaCroix stepped back, surveying his progeny with his usual briskness. "Hmmn. A little worse for wear, but nothing that won't go unnoticed under your jacket. Shall we?"
Pulling on his clothes, Nick grinned at him. "Let's shall."
<fin>
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