This Forever Knight story is slash fan fiction. It contains adult concepts, sensuality and explicit sexual situations between men.
If you're underage or offended by such things, you have been warned not to read the fiction.


The events in this story follow the episode Knight in Question. This was also the first Forever Knight story I wrote. You've been warned.

If We Kissed

Cousin Shelley

Nick Knight rested his fingertips on the smooth keys and waited. He remembered his entire repertoire--all but one. He'd managed to play only a few measures of the distantly familiar piece, but worse yet, he still couldn't remember its name. Maybe he was trying too hard. He closed his eyes and willed himself to relax.

And he played.

He heard the music before he realized his hands were moving. Smiling, he watched his fingers work the keyboard as if they were controlled by someone else. The tune was beautiful, a lilting melody called . . . called . . .

"Fur Elise. Ludwig Van Beethoven." Lucien LaCroix spoke the words with a precise German accent. He stood behind and slightly to the right of his most beloved creation. "Your memories *are* almost complete . . . wunderbar."

The ancient vampire turned and walked toward the center of the room. He sat at one end of the couch and refilled his stemmed glass from a bottle on the table in front of him. Sipping the blood-wine mixture, he enjoyed the music, noting that Nicholas was playing the piece as well as he ever had. He closed his eyes and tried not to think about what that meant. They had not spent this much time together in so long, first the day at the Raven and now the evening in Nick's loft, and LaCroix dreaded it coming to an end, though he knew it would. If only for the next few minutes, he intended to glory in the fact that he was with his Nicholas, and that Nicholas welcomed him there.

When Nick was finished, he turned from the piano and headed toward LaCroix. As he threw himself down in an adjacent chair he laughed, his eyes locking with his master's.

"I knew it was one of Ludwig's, but I couldn't . . ." Nicholas stopped, realizing that LaCroix wasn't hearing him. The intense stare and slightly opened mouth of the elder vampire sent a shudder through Nicholas. He pushed down an unexpected urge to join him on the couch. He started to speak again, but found he couldn't break the silence, or bring himself to look away.

Eye to eye
Hey, do I know you?

LaCroix closed his eyes. When he opened them a second later, he'd already shifted his gaze away from Nicholas. He sat his glass on the coffee table.

"Beautiful," LaCroix whispered, only partly referring to the music.

Nick cleared his throat. "Thank you. I knew it was Beethoven but I couldn't recall the name." He smiled.

"I thought perhaps this place might restore the few memories that seem to be eluding you. It is, after all, your home."

LaCroix placed his hands palm-down on his thighs and fought the urge to bolt. It was overwhelming being this close to Nicholas and feeling nothing but gratefulness and a growing affection through their bond. This, combined with an utter lack of resentment and the impish way Nicholas kept smiling at him, made LaCroix want to run from the room one minute, throw Nicholas down and ravish him the next.

LaCroix sensed confusion coming from his son. "Yes, Nicholas?"

"When Natalie explained to me what I am, I could hear the . . . sadness in her voice," Nick said. "But when she realized that I needed to spend time with you to learn about myself and my life, she looked as if she was sending me to my executioner. Sitting here like this, with you, I can't imagine why." He smiled again.

LaCroix grunted slightly and raised his eyebrows. "Ah, yes. The good doctor imagines me to be a little devil on your shoulder, taunting you, encouraging you on toward evil deeds." He reached for his glass. "I suppose that would make her an angel, winged and haloed, on the other side, whispering fairy tales in your ear, trying to transform you into something you can never be." LaCroix looked at Nicholas, gauging his reaction. "I can assure you, neither is entirely true." His smile faded. He sipped the cool liquid.

"So, I am the sole reason for the animosity between the two of you?" Nicholas' smile had faded as well.

"More or less." LaCroix nodded. "But since you came to me to learn about your life and our . . . relationship, might I suggest that any questions you have regarding your coroner friend, be directed to Dr. Lambert herself?"

"Yes, yes, of course." Nick nodded, as a grin worked its way back across his face. He didn't remember the tall, black-clad vampire sitting in front of him, but he felt a strange pleasure in his company. LaCroix had a calming, comforting effect on Nick. This was the first time since he'd been shot that he truly believed things were going to work out. His memory would return in full and life would go on, barely interrupted. He could accept himself and his life, and if he needed help Natalie would be there for him. And LaCroix. LaCroix would be there.

"I must admit, Nicholas, I find your current state of amnesia fascinating. I would have assumed such a thing impossible in our kind." He took a sip from his glass, never taking his eyes off Nicholas. "At the very least, I expected the vampiric healing process to work on your mind as efficiently as it has your body." He tilted his head slightly to one side, waiting.

Nicholas looked at him, unsure of what LaCroix expected him to say.

"Let me put it another way. I've spent the day telling you about your nature, your life. Tell me what *you've* remembered of these things."

"Much. Most, I think. I remember my mother, Fleur, my family, the estate."

LaCroix flinched at the mention of Nicholas' sister. "Go on."

"I remember some of my childhood, growing up." Nick's face grew serious. "The Crusades."

"And?" LaCroix prompted him on.

"I was still in the Crusades when you made me a vampire."

"You remember being brought across?" LaCroix's eyes lingered on his son's lips.

"No, I've no memory of it. I know only because you told me."

"I see. You've remembered the music of the ages. How many other concrete memories do you have of the last 800 years? Specifically, things that I haven't told you about."

As Nicholas recounted historical events and noteworthy people, LaCroix studied every detail of his face and demeanor. For so many years, he'd wanted to be close to Nicholas again. Even more than that, he'd desperately wanted Nicholas to want the same. It pulled at him that Nicholas might not remember their beginnings, but did he dare hope that he wouldn't remember the years of pain? Could he and his most prized creation start over? It was too much to hope for, but just thinking of the possibility made the skin around LaCroix's neck tighten and tingle. He watched Nick's lips and tongue as he spoke, and he watched his eyes brighten each time he smiled. He bit the inside of his bottom lip and fought to keep his growing arousal out of their link.

Nicholas finished his recollections by talking about his job and his friendship with Natalie. He waited for LaCroix to speak, but his master simply stared at him. As he watched LaCroix bite his lip, he started to burn under his gaze. He found himself staring back with equal intensity.

Eye to eye
Hey, do I know you?
Stripped my senses on the spot

LaCroix realized that he'd been staring openly at Nicholas, who had finished speaking--he didn't know how long ago--and was staring back. Nicholas' gaze caused a warm stirring in his groin. He fought the urge to lunge for his son, to roll him onto the floor.

I've never been defenseless
I can't even make sense of this
You speak and I don't hear a word

LaCroix blinked and cleared his throat. "What about the small details of your existence? Is your memory 'filling itself in'?"

Nick nodded and smiled, shifting his position in the chair. "Yes. Thank you, LaCroix. Somehow, being near you has jarred my memory."

"You're quite welcome, Nicholas, but you should know, my motives aren't completely unselfish. It is so very fulfilling to be . . . needed." LaCroix smiled.

"I feel almost complete again," Nick said. "You've brought everything back." He smiled, almost breathless in his enthusiasm.

"Oh, but not everything, my dear Nicholas. Not everything." LaCroix frowned. "You haven't spent the last 800 years alone. You had close companions. Your *kind*. Yet you don't remember us."

"I remember Janette. We were lovers once. I have more recent memories of her, as well." Nick avoided looking into the intense, blue eyes fixed upon him.

"Yes. That's all you remember of her?"

Nick nodded, still avoiding LaCroix's gaze. "You've told me other things, but I have no memory of them."

"You don't remember her as a vampire." It was a statement, rather than a question. "But one other has spent countless hours with you."

"I remember several people--"

"No, Nicholas. One person has spent more time with you in the last 800 years than any other. *Done* more for you than any other." *Felt* more for you than any other, he thought, but he left this last sentiment unspoken.

Nick shook his head and gave LaCroix a despairing look. "I'm sorry, LaCroix. I don't remember you. Not yet, anyway."

LaCroix forced himself to relax. "I've told you about your nature, about how we feed, but do you actually *remember* killing?" he asked, in a tone of voice that suggested he already knew the answer.

"No." Nick took a sharp intake of breath, though it wasn't physically necessary. "No, I don't."

"Well then, if you don't remember killing, I don't suppose you remember obsessing about it later." LaCroix smiled as Nick shook his head. He studied his glass, spinning it slowly between his thumb and fingers. "I was wrong, Nicholas. It seems your memory has returned with remarkable speed, in that you remember your life and events and people that might be of note to a mortal man." He sat his glass on the table and stood, looking down at his son. "But you don't remember becoming a vampire, you don't remember *being* a vampire . . ." LaCroix placed his hands on the arm of Nick's chair and leaned down, his face only a few inches from his son's.

"And you don't remember me," he whispered, pausing slightly between each word.

Nicholas looked away from the heat of LaCroix's gaze.

"How is this possible, Nicholas? How could you remember so much, and yet not remember me, of all people. I created you, made you what you are. It amazes me that the most prevalent force in your life for the last 800 years is the one thing you can't seem to recall." LaCroix straightened, the feelings flowing through their strengthening bond growing uncomfortable.

"It does seem strange," was all Nicholas could say.

"Indeed. For you to be unable to remember that you are a vampire is akin to a mortal bumping his head and forgetting that he's a human being." LaCroix turned from Nicholas and walked away, taking up a spot behind the long, black couch.

Nicholas watched LaCroix pace slowly back and forth. He found himself relieved that LaCroix had put a little distance between them. The more time he spent with his master, the clearer the sensations that flowed through their bond. But when LaCroix was so close, the feelings flooded Nick too quickly for him to decipher. He thought he sensed some anger and frustration, but there was something more intense, something he felt LaCroix was trying to keep from him. Nick couldn't define what was leaking through, but it made him feel as if warm hands had just caressed his face, his neck, his chest. He squirmed in the chair.

"Unless . . ." LaCroix said. He stopped pacing and looked at the fireplace.

"What? Tell me." Nick's eyes pleaded with his master. He felt an overwhelming desire to please him, to gain his approval.

"I have heard of mortals suffering from a similar form of amnesia. While there are true cases of memory loss from blows to the head and such, many cases are purely," he looked at Nicholas, "psychological. Humans have been known to 'block out' traumatic events subconsciously, because they don't wish to deal with their emotional responses."

Nicholas' mouth dropped opened slightly. "You're saying that I'm not remembering you, I'm not remembering being a vampire, because I don't want to deal with it?"

"Precisely. It is the only explanation."

"No. I've tried, I've concentrated."

"As I said, Nicholas, it's not a conscious decision."

"Why would I remember Janette and not you, if that were the case? I *want* to remember you."

A shiver snaked around LaCroix's spine. To hear those words coming from his Nicholas, to see the eager look on his face, even under these circumstances, was thrilling.

"Oh, Nicholas." LaCroix laughed. "Why would you remember Janette and not me? If you could only appreciate the irony." He laughed again, his face softening as he looked at his favorite child.

Nick frowned, confused.

LaCroix's smile turned cold. "You've spent hundreds of years trying to forget me."

Nicholas shook his head. "No."

LaCroix looked at the floor, the opposite wall, and back at Nicholas. "Yes. After all this time, mon fils, it would seem you've gotten your wish."

"Why? Why would I want to forget you?" Nicholas felt a memory, a set of memories, working their way toward the surface, like tiny bubbles rolling in slow-motion to the surface of boiling water. He hopped out of his chair. Pacing back and forth in front of LaCroix, he felt like he was going to rip out of his skin. He faced his master and looked into his sad eyes. "Help me to remember. Help me, LaCroix."

"Oh, Nicholas. That's all I've ever wanted to do." LaCroix felt a tightening from his neck to his groin. He wanted to touch him, soothe him as he often had after bringing him across. The young vampire had been eager and impatient then, wanting to know and do everything at once. His expression now reminded LaCroix of that Nicholas--his devoted, loving child looking to him for help and guidance, and eventually so much more. Soon enough, with the return of his son's memory, that sweet, vulnerable, *needy* expression on his face would disappear, replaced by the familiar mask of resentment and hatred, only this time it would happen in a matter of minutes or hours, rather than the decades and centuries that it had once taken. LaCroix wondered if he could bear such rejection from his Nicholas a second time.

Nicholas looked at his master's eyes, his lips, his neck, and he gasped as the memories assaulted him, his eyes rolling back into his head. "LaCroix . . ." He spun and side-stepped as if he'd been shoved.

"Nicholas! What is it?" LaCroix lunged forward, grabbing Nicholas' arms, pulling him in to himself and supporting him. He felt a jumble of emotions ripping through their link, but he could feel Nick's fear and pain above all the rest. "Nicholas!"

Nick didn't answer, but jerked and gasped as if he'd been struck a second time. LaCroix held him tight, to keep him from falling. Finally, Nick raised his head.

"Nicholas?" Their link was clearing and Nick was able to stand on his own. LaCroix started to release his arms when it hit him. He looked at his beloved son, not believing what he was feeling; a sensation he'd feared he'd never experience again. He gasped as wave after wave of Nicholas' love burned through their link like electric honey, thick with passion and desire. He let go of Nicholas' arms and stepped back, not daring to truly believe what was happening.

"Nicholas . . .?"

Nick closed his eyes as a shudder ran through him. He looked into his master's eyes and made a soft sound deep in his throat, almost a whimper. "I remember", he said. Nick stepped forward and raised his hand to LaCroix's face. "You . . . I loved you," he whispered.

LaCroix closed his eyes as Nicholas' hand cupped the side of his face. "Yes."

"Why? Why didn't you tell me we were lovers?" He ran his fingers down LaCroix's cheek and chin. LaCroix gasped as Nicholas' fingertips brushed over his lips.

"Ohh, Nicholas. I wasn't hiding anything from you. What you're remembering is, as they say, ancient history." LaCroix reluctantly pulled away from his son's hand and took a step back.

"No. I remember lovers, and I remember being in love, and none of that compares to this. Why . . . how could it have ended?" He took a step forward, and frowned as LaCroix moved away. "Tell me why our relationship changed? Did you end it? You stopped wanting me?"

The question ripped at LaCroix's heart. "No, Nicholas. My feelings have never changed. You are the one who ended it." LaCroix felt his anger rising at that thought. Looking at Nicholas now, the love in his expression, made him furious at his son for denying him that love for hundreds of years.

"How could I have ended it? This feels so . . . right. I loved you so. I *love* you so." Nicholas reached for LaCroix but he jerked away. "Then tell me, LaCroix, why would I do such a thing!"

"Guilt, Nicholas. You let your guilt come between us." LaCroix growled out the words. "Your high-minded, humanitarian principles led you away from your kind, away from me. Your master, your father, the one you loved with complete devotion, became an object of resentment. And hatred."

"No! I could never hate you. This kind of love could never-"

"You *do* hate me. You blame me for what you are. You've been trying to deny me for hundreds of years, searching to cure your unfortunate *condition*, a condition that I *burdened* you with almost 800 years ago." LaCroix spat the words at his son.

The amazement Nicholas felt when he remembered his feelings for LaCroix changed to regret, then despair. LaCroix had no reason to lie. But how could he have hurt someone whom he'd felt so strongly about? How could he have denied the man who'd given him such a gift as eternity, and such intense pleasure? He squeezed his eyes shut, fighting to stay in control of himself.

"I'm so sorry. Forgive me." He opened his eyes. "No matter how much I might wish it, I can't change what's happened, what I've done to you, to us. I only know that now . . .I don't remember hating you, LaCroix, I only remember loving you. Desiring you. Needing you." Nicholas stepped up to his master and placed a hand on his arm. This time, LaCroix didn't jerk away. "Please, LaCroix. I've remembered these feelings. You claim your feelings have never changed. Indulge me."

"But you will remember, Nicholas. And I've no doubt you will regret this entire day, every last moment of it." LaCroix's heart almost physically ached with the knowledge that what he'd wanted for centuries was within his grasp. He looked at Nick's desperate eyes and his opened mouth, and slowly, painfully, pulled his arm away.

Nicholas clenched his teeth together and closed his eyes.

"No, LaCroix. Please. We need each other." He opened his eyes in time to see LaCroix turning away.

"No! Please. . ." He reached for LaCroix's face, turning the elder vampire to look at him again. "I need you, mon maitre. Have I hurt you so deeply that you won't have me now?"

Desire surged within LaCroix as he searched his son's eyes. "Oh no, mon fils, I think there's nothing I couldn't forgive you. But if I give in to this, to the way I feel . . ." He reached up and pulled Nicholas' hand away from his face, but Nicholas held on to his hand and wouldn't let go.

What would happen if we kissed?
Would your tongue slip past my lips?
Would you run away?

"When your memory *fully* returns, you'll hate me all the more." LaCroix tried to pull his hand out of Nick's grasp, but the younger vampire held tight.

"I don't believe that."

"I do."

"Let me prove otherwise. Please. I need you so." Nicholas pulled LaCroix's hand to his mouth. He looked into his master's eyes as he kissed each knuckle, lightly flicking LaCroix's skin with his tongue.

LaCroix gritted his teeth as his groin tightened. "Oh, Nicholas." He pulled his hand free and placed it on his son's face. "You always were a wanton creature." LaCroix's nostrils flared as he stroked the side of Nicholas' face.

Would you stay?
Or would I melt into you
mouth to mouth

Nick pressed his cheek into his master's hand, basking in the feel of LaCroix's caress. As LaCroix's fingers moved across his chin and up to his lips, Nicholas sucked his master's index finger into his mouth, swirling his tongue up and down its length. LaCroix groaned in surprise, and Nick felt his own erection pressing painfully against his trousers.

"Mon fils . . . mon coeur. It's been so very long." LaCroix slipped his finger out of the inviting mouth and rubbed it over Nicholas' soft lips, wetting them. Nick closed his eyes as his master's skilled fingers worked a path down his chin and neck. As LaCroix reached the buttons on his shirt, Nick felt something start to bubble up from his chest. A vague memory, a vague feeling started working its way up into his mind.

"Nicholas?" LaCroix noticed the distant look on his son's face.

Nick grabbed his head with both hands, screaming, and crumpled to his knees.

"Nicholas!" LaCroix dropped with Nick and grabbed him by the shoulders, calling his name repeatedly. Finally, Nick raised his head, letting his hands fall away, and looked into his master's eyes. "I . . . I remember . . . screams . . . begging . . . I killed them! I couldn't . . . stop I couldn't . . ." A red streak ran down each cheek, and as he looked at LaCroix's face, his sobs grew louder. "No . . . no . . . I'm sorry, so . . . sorry."

His son's pain burned the ancient's heart. He pulled Nicholas into a tight embrace and rocked him slightly back and forth. "It's all right, Nicholas. It's all right," he whispered over and over, pressing his lips into Nicholas' ear and the side of his face. He ran his hand over his son's loose, blonde hair. "I'm here for you, my son. My precious son."

LaCroix felt tears forming in his eyes at the realization that, after the joy and hope for their future he'd allowed himself to feel only a moment ago, this would probably be last time he would hold his Nicholas in his arms. Their moment of sweet nostalgia was over and would be soon forgotten, and he was sure, soon denied. Nicholas was remembering the killing--it was only a matter of time, minutes maybe, before he remembered his hatred of his master and cast him out of his life once again.

Nicholas pulled out of the embrace and sat back on his heels, prompting LaCroix to do the same. "Oh, LaCroix. I remember. I remember everything." He wiped his blood-tears away with the backs of his hands. "I'm so sorry."

"Sorry? For what, Nicholas? For killing or for remembering?" The elder vampire composed himself and blinked away his tears before they spilled down his cheeks.

"Both. I remember being a vampire," he said. "I remember the killing and the pain I've inflicted on others." He reached his hand towards LaCroix, but pulled it back. "And I remember hurting you." Nick could feel LaCroix's sadness and pain through their link. "I hated what you stood for, LaCroix. What you represented. But I don't hate you."

LaCroix felt Nicholas' guilt and pain, and then something else that nearly brought the tears back to his eyes. Despite all the emotions Nicholas was feeling at that moment, his love for LaCroix still flowed underneath. He looked at Nicholas with wonder. The joy and desire he'd had and lost within minutes started to build inside him again.

Nicholas smiled slightly. "Yes, LaCroix, I still want you. Maybe it's because I remembered loving you before I remembered anything else that has happened between us. I had forgotten how it felt . . . how I felt. Being reminded of that, I can't believe I ever let it go."

LaCroix closed his eyes for a long moment, relishing what he was feeling and hearing. "You have no idea how I've longed to hear you say those words." He opened his eyes and stood, looking down at his son. The realization that their time together should wait, for both their sakes, felt like a burning stake in LaCroix's heart. "But it's been a tumultuous day for you, and perhaps we should give it some time. You may feel differently in a day or two, even in an hour, and I don't wish to take advantage of your emotional state."

"No, LaCroix." Nick reached up and grabbed LaCroix's hand. He kissed the back of his master's hand, turned it and kissed the palm, and then pressed it to the side of his face. "I know how I feel--this is not going to change. I want you."

LaCroix knew his erection was obvious, and looking down at the kneeling Nicholas kissing and massaging his hand, caused it to bounce and strain against his trousers even more. "And I want you, Nicholas, more than anything. A week, mon coeur? A week, to let it all 'sink in', if you will. Then, if you feel the same, I will still be . . . available." He smiled.

Nicholas kissed each of LaCroix's fingertips, the wet tip of his tongue brushing each one in turn. "All right. A week. But until then, a token, to make the time bearable."

"And that is?"

"Kiss me."

The desire coming through their link made LaCroix want to scream and rip into Nicholas' throat. "No."

Nick stood, looking like he'd just been slapped.

"Why not?"

"Because waiting was my idea, to save us both much grief, in case your newly-remembered feelings should change."

"We *are* going to wait, just as you've suggested. But surely one small kiss in the interim is not too much to ask?"

"Nicholas, please."

"At least tell me why you refuse."

LaCroix could feel his son's pain and confusion. He grabbed Nick's shoulders and planted a chaste kiss on each cheek. As he let go of the strong shoulders, Nick grabbed his hands and held on.

"No. I need you to *kiss* me."

"Nicholas . . ."

"Why not, LaCroix? Tell me, please."

LaCroix looked at his distraught son for a few seconds, and then pulled his hands free. He slid a finger over his son's lips, his voice a rough whisper. "I don't think I could bear to taste your mouth, knowing I couldn't have more of you. All of you. Immediately." At once, he regretted touching Nicholas' lips. He knew he couldn't wait a week to claim them as his own.

Nick closed his eyes, a chill running through him, both at LaCroix's touch and his words. When he opened them, he locked stares with his master, and an unspoken assent passed between them.

Both vampires lunged forward simultaneously, their bodies and mouths coming together with a crushing force that would have injured mortal men. They devoured each other, sucking lips and tongues, as they pressed the length of their bodies together, their hips grinding in unison.

What would happen if we kissed?
Would your tongue slip past my lips?

LaCroix moaned at the flavor of his son, a sweet ambrosia that only moments ago he'd thought lost to him, forever. He grasped Nick's face with both hands and pulled his mouth away, eliciting a moan of resistance from the younger vampire.

He looked into Nick's eyes. "My fiery Nicholas. Oh . . . how I've longed for you." He took Nick's mouth again, and threw his body into his son's with such force, they slammed against the wall.

Would you run away?
Would you stay?
Or would I melt into you
mouth to mouth
lust to lust
spontaneously combust

Nick cried out in surprise and excitement at the impact. He bucked LaCroix away from him, forcing him back far enough for Nick to grab and rip open the front of his master's shirt. LaCroix pulled Nick's shirt open in kind, then grabbed the front of his son's trousers, tearing them, too absorbed in his lust to bother with buttons or zippers. As Nick pushed off his shoes and socks to step out of his ruined pants, LaCroix removed his with incredible speed.

Nick grabbed his master's torn shirt, yanking it down the strong, pale arms. LaCroix pulled it free of his wrists and tossed it aside, as Nicholas did the same with his own.

Nick held LaCroix's waist as he kissed him, his tongue covering every inch of his master's. He ground his hips forward, his excitement building as he felt the hardness pressing against his own. As his hands slid around LaCroix's back, he trailed kisses down his chin and the line of his jaw.

One of LaCroix's hands cradled the back of Nicholas' head, his fingers twisting in the blond waves, while his other moved down Nicholas' back and slid underneath the slick fabric of his briefs. As LaCroix squeezed the firm ass, he was rewarded with a breathy moan in his ear. He wriggled his fingertips between the silky, sculpted cheeks and massaged Nick's ass with his palm.

Nick moaned and pushed back onto LaCroix's hand as he felt his master's fingers near his tight opening. He sucked and nipped at the side of LaCroix's neck, occasionally moving up to pant in his ear and run his tongue over the lobe. He felt LaCroix's hand release his ass and start rubbing up his back. Nick kissed his way down LaCroix's neck and chest, where he licked a wet circle around one of the nipples. The tiny bud hardened as Nicholas sucked it into his mouth, nibbling it, flicking its tip with his tongue. He slid a hand up to pinch the other nipple, and found it already firm with excitement.

LaCroix groped at Nicholas' back. "Oh, yes, Nicholasss," he said, through clenched teeth.

Nicholas sucked the hardened nipple and hooked his fingers in the silky band of LaCroix's briefs. As he licked across the broad chest to nip at the other tender bud, he pulled the briefs down in the back, and cupped his master's firm ass in his hands. He slowly lowered himself to his knees, licking a wet path down LaCroix's chest and belly. He kissed the silky material still held in place by LaCroix's erection, and ran his pointed tongue over the concealed bulge. He felt his own erection throb as LaCroix whispered his name.

"Nicholas . . . oh."

LaCroix gasped and pushed his hips forward into his son's face, twisting his fingers in the unruly hair.

Nicholas tore at the front of the briefs with his teeth, pulling them down and out of his way. As LaCroix's erection was freed from its constraints, Nicholas' desire overwhelmed him. He moaned and sucked his master's cock entirely into his mouth, digging his fingernails into LaCroix's ass.

LaCroix cried out in pleasure as Nicholas swallowed him whole, without warning. As he watched his favorite's face slide back and forth on his erection, he realized he was on the brink of orgasm. He grasped the sides of Nick's head, pulling him back.

Nick looked up at him, breathless, his lips slightly swollen. "What . . . have I done something wrong?"

LaCroix caressed his son's face, then tore off the remants of his briefs. "No, mon fils rare. I *ache* to be inside you. And what kind of a father would I be, if I didn't tend to my son's needs before my own?"

LaCroix pushed Nicholas to the floor, covering his body with his own. He reached between them, grabbed Nicholas briefs and tore them away, eliciting a cry of excitement from his lover. The feel of Nicholas' hard cock bouncing and rubbing against his own nearly brought him to orgasm. He moved his hips up and down, rubbing their erections together, as he covered his son's face with kisses. LaCroix caught a faint taste of Nicholas' sweetness in the dried blood-tears that hadn't been wiped completely away, and the change surged through him. The rich syrup of his lover's blood was an exquisite taste he thought never to have again, making its flavor all the more intoxicating. He reached down and wrapped his powerful fist around Nicholas' erection and began pumping, squeezing with each stroke.

As LaCroix brought him closer to his release, Nick could feel the urgent desire building within his lover. He watched the passion overcome him, and the feel of his master's sure hand stroking him caused the change to wash over Nicholas. His fingernails dug into LaCroix's arms. The heady scent of his master's blood made him desperate to bite, to feed.

LaCroix sensed the overwhelming need in his son, pumping his cock faster and bending his neck to kiss him. Nick held LaCroix's face tight in his hands as he sucked and bit desperately at the sensuous mouth. The taste of his master's blood sent Nick over the edge.

Nicholas bucked into the skilled hand as he came violently, his scream muffled by LaCroix's greedy mouth and tongue. At the perfect moment, LaCroix released his son's mouth and turned his head, offering his neck to his lover.

Nicholas struck, sinking his fangs deep into LaCroix, drinking with such force that his master cried out in ecstasy. Nick could taste his master's lust and his rapidly approaching orgasm, but most of all, his all-encompassing passion for his most precious creation. The thick musk of his master's blood intensified Nick's orgasm. He wanted to scream again from the pleasure, but he couldn't bear to stop the flow of his master's esssence down his throat. He sucked at the tensed, pale neck, whimpering and moaning between swallows.

As Nicholas' orgasm faded, he licked the fresh wound, savoring the familiar, long-denied taste of his master.

LaCroix stroked his son until he was sated, and no longer thrusting or drinking from him. An occasional moan vibrated against the side of LaCroix's neck. He trailed his hand over Nicholas' tightened sac, being careful not to apply pressure, and easily slid a finger, slick with come, inside his son. Nicholas arched slightly, pressing himself down onto the finger, and moaned.

"LaCroix . . . oh, yes . . ." Nick looked into his master's golden-reddish eyes as the finger moved within him. His voice was a hoarse whisper as he pleaded, "Please . . . take me."

"My precious Nicholas." He inserted a second finger and slid them in and out, slightly wiggling his fingertips. LaCroix growled in his chest as he pulled his fingers out of Nicholas' ass, then slid his come-slick fist over his own erection. He rolled himself completely on top of his son, and as muscular legs wrapped around his waist, he pressed his erection against Nicholas' ass. Pushing his hips forward, he slipped the head of his aching cock inside the tight opening.

Nicholas gasped with the shock of invasion, but the initial pain soon gave way to a building pleasure, and within seconds his erection returned. He ran his hands over the strong back hovering above him, loving the feel of the ancient, powerful muscles rippling just beneath the skin.

LaCroix moaned and pushed forward, steadily and slowly, until he was completely buried inside Nicholas. He lowered his head and kissed his son, falling into a steady rhythm of slow thrusts. His incisors drew small pinpoints of blood from Nick's lips and tongue, the taste driving him wild. He loved the feel of Nick's erection rubbing against his belly with each thrust. He looked at Nicholas' face, feeling his son's eager body arching up to meet him.

"Oh, Nicholas, yesss."

The change swept back over Nicholas at the throaty sound of his master's desire.

LaCroix slowed his thrusts to an unbearable crawl and looked into Nicholas' eyes.

"Say my name," he said.

Nicholas whimpered at the slow pace, writhing beneath LaCroix.

"Say my name," he growled.

"Lucien," he whispered.

LaCroix increased his pace, no longer wanting to delay his release. "Mon coeur," he whispered.

Nicholas moaned. "Lucien . . . Lucien." He arched himself into LaCroix's frantic thrusts.

"Yes, Nicholasss."

As Nick's orgasm exploded, he screamed and sank his teeth into his lover's neck.

"Nicholasss!" As LaCroix came, he slammed into Nicholas unmercifully. He struck the satin neck with ancient speed, drinking down his creation's life essence, feeling drunk with the taste and smell and feel of his one, true passion. As the spice of Nicholas' orgasm mingled with his own, their embrace was so powerful and the sensations so strong, LaCroix imagined that they had somehow melded together, no longer two separate beings. He could taste his son's newly-remembered feelings for him, and they were just as brilliant and bright as it was when he and Nicholas had first become lovers, over seven-hundred years ago.

The vampires drank from each other, shuddering and moaning into each others necks, neither wanting to be the first the end the embrace. Finally, Nick was the first to pull away, licking the half-healed wounds he'd inflicted.

LaCroix lapped and sucked at the tender throat, then rolled off Nicholas, gasping as his over-sensitive organ slid out of Nicholas' body.

He lay on his side, propped up on one elbow, and looked down at his lover's face. He touched Nick's smooth forehead, pushing a stray, blonde wave away from his face. "Nicholas?"

Nick lay on his back, his eyes still closed. "Yes?"

"Forgive me, mon fils."

Nick opened his eyes, amazed, and smiled at LaCroix. "For what exactly?"

"In all the times I'd imagined our reunion, I always expected it to be . . . slow. And tender. I wanted that for you." He looked into Nick's eyes, regret clear in his expression. "It has been so long, I could barely control myself as it was. For that, I'm sorry."

"Oh, LaCroix." Nick laughed, and stroked his face. "We needed this. I needed you to love me, you needed release for centuries of desire. It was perfect. Next time can be slow." He looked at LaCroix's mouth. "We have an eternity to be tender."

LaCroix leaned down and kissed the waiting lips.