by Mama-Ra
Fandom: Forever Knight
Status: WIP
Series: Reconciliation
Overall series rated R - for sex, violence, bloodshed, language, and stuff like that.
Archive: yes, please!
Feedback is appreciated, and I'll write you back. momra1@lycos.com
Pairing: Nick/Vachon
Summary: Vachon invites Nick over to play.
Warning: graphic m/m sex, bloodletting, and consensual rough-stuff.
BTW - This part isn't a Nick/LaCroix story, but other chapters of 'Reconciliation' are.
Note: This is actually a piece of the 'Reconciliation' series. I haven't posted it before, and it's out of order, but I think it fits your challange parameters.
Reonciliation Chapter 12:(I think) © 2001 by Mom-Ra
The Usual Disclaimers Apply: All characters from Forever Knight belong to Sony/Tristar and were created by Barney Cohen and James Parriot. No copyright violation is intended, no money is being made, blah blah blah.
First a bit of smut, to set the mood, then the Story Challenge.
The Other Man
by Mama-Ra
Merely opening the door of the abandoned church made Nick feel apprehensive, so he didn't often visit Vachon at home. He took a deep breath, then made his way to the choir loft where Vachon had arranged an apartment of sorts. As he climbed the darkened stairway, a slight pulsing sound caught his attention. It took him a moment to realize the sound was actually music.
Nick could see the doorway to the loft outlined in a soft glow. He went up the last few steps and peeked into the apartment. Dozens of candles were burning, some on saucers, others in elegant candlesticks, still others shoved into empty wine bottles. In the back corner, an old-fashioned brass floor lamp with a glass-beaded shade gave a bit more light. Vachon had pirated some electricity, but he preferred to save it for watching TV.
Nick went in further, and could see that Vachon was playing his guitar; he stood near the couch, in a knock-kneed stance that rockers seem to favor, one heel rotated slightly forward. The black Gibson was slung low on his hip, and his hair hung down, obscuring his face. He was running through all his favorite blues riffs, moving his body with the music as he played.
Then the notes flowed and soared into something luxurious, sad and slow and sweet, with beautiful phrasing. It seemed as if the music originated from some cold and secret wellspring; filled with the longing and heartbreaking loneliness that Vachon concealed with his easy-going, friendly cynicism. He was so intent on his playing, he didn't sense Nick at all, and Nick was so enchanted watching him play, that he'd forgotten why he'd hurried to over the old church in the first place.
Eventually Nick's presence cut through whatever else was going on in Vachon's head, because he stopped playing and whipped around, startled. "Just how long have you been standing there?" he snapped. Vachon was self-conscious to have been caught unawares, and annoyed at Nick for watching him. He took off his guitar and busied himself with wiping it down, and putting it back into the case.
Nick was contrite, "I'm sorry, Vachon. I didn't mean to sneak up on you. I've never heard you play before and I ... um, it was ... so beautiful. I loved what you were playing."
Vachon was still ruffled, but Nick could be very charming, and the stumbling apology helped to smooth him down.
"Did you write that?" Nick asked, as he came the rest of the way into the living area.
"Nah, I just make it up as I go along." Vachon waved towards the battered couch. "Come on in, have a seat."
Nick went to kiss him, but he stepped away. "You said we had to be patient." Vachon reminded him. "You'll have to wait."
"You're angry with me."
"Not in the least." Vachon grinned. He pushed Nick onto the couch, then picked his feet up and set them on the crate standing in for a coffee table. "Comfy?"
"Uh, yeah." Nick was puzzled by his manner, at once aloof and solicitous. He reached for Vachon again, but his advances were rebuffed. "Come on, Vach. I thought you wanted-"
"Oh, I do, querido." Vachon crooned. He stepped over Nick, and stood between the couch and coffee table, with Nick's legs between his. "But we're going to play a little game, to make up for what you did to me."
"What I did to you?" Nick asked indignantly, but felt a little thrill at the idea of playing a game.
"Yeah. You got me all worked up for a hot fuck, you bitch, then just sent me home. Now it's payback time." Vashon ran his tongue slowly over his teeth. The little steel barbell glinted in the dim light.
Nick glanced hopefully towards the floor-to-ceiling muslin curtains that partitioned Vachon's bedroom off from the rest of the loft. He was ready to play, and curious to find out how Vachon was going to exact his revenge. "So, what's the game?"
"I'll explain the rules as we go along." Vachon said, stepping away from him, and going into his makeshift kitchenette. "Did you really like the song?" he asked sweetly. "Or were you just saying that?"
"I really liked it." Nick said, "Honest."
He gestured toward the guitar amplifier at the far end of the loft. "Why don't you use the amp? Don't you want anyone to hear you play?"
"It's not exactly common knowledge the church is inhabited now. Besides, I don't want to annoy my neighbors."
"Very considerate of you." Nick said, then invited him to bring his amp over to the warehouse and turn it up as loud as he wanted. "I haven't got any neighbors to annoy."
"Cool. I just might take you up on that."
Vachon brought over an open bottle and two glasses. "Who wants a drink?" he asked, as he flopped down onto the couch. He filled the first glass and handed it to his guest.
Human blood.
Nick was about to hand it back, when Vachon told him to relax. "No one was killed for this."
"Are you sure?" Nick was still uneasy.
"Fairly certain." Vachon raised his glass in a salute.
"Where did it come from?"
"Someone hijacked a blood mobile, or something. How the hell should I know?" Vachon rolled his eyes, "I swear, Nick. You're gonna drive me right out of my mind." He leaned back and propped his feet on the crate, and took a large swallow of blood wine.
Nick glanced down into the tumbler, then took just enough to wet his mouth.
Nice.
He drank a little more and licked his lips.
*Very* nice.
He closed his eyes and drank slowly, holding the glass with both hands. The mingled essence of various mortals kindled his senses. He held a mouthful, fanning it with his tongue before swallowing.
Vachon moved closer to him. "If you were doing that to turn me on, it worked."
"What?" Nick opened his eyes, absolutely innocent. "I wasn't doing anything."
"Hmm ... then I guess I never noticed before, the way you moan and shiver when you drink."
"Oh. " Nick looked down at the floor, then at Vachon. "I think you're teasing me."
"Now, why would I do a thing like that?"
* * * * * * * *
Vachon's bedroom was decorated in thrift-store Gothic, complete with tall wrought iron candelabra and cobwebs. He stood on one side of the room, Nick on the other, with the bed between them. Vachon was explaining the rules of the game as they lit the candles. "Any questions? No? Good." And with that he started stripping.
Vachon slowly pulled his tee shirt over his head, and caressed himself as he did. He tossed the shirt on the floor, and ran his hands over his body. Staring at Nick with a hot, come-fuck-me pout, he made a show of wetting his fingertips, then touching his nipples, rubbing them oh, so slowly, moaning quietly and undulating his hips. One hand continued to play over his chest, while the other began a maddeningly slow-motion descent towards the waistband of his jeans. He sneaked his fingers into his jeans, lower, and lower, then thrust his hand in. Vachon's hand moved up and down beneath the black denim, and his other hand began moving towards his waistband just as slowly as the first, then popped the buttons of his fly open, one by one.
The provocative display inspired Nick to tear his own clothes off, but Vachon stopped him. "Naughty boy." he scolded, and wagged a finger at him, "I didn't give you permission. I might have to asses some penalties."
"You never said anything about penalties." Nick complained.
"I told you, we're making it up as we go along."
"You said you were going to explain the rules, not make it up. That's not fair."
"If you're going to start whining and getting all bitchy, this isn't gonna be any fun."
"But-"
"Chill out, Nick." Vachon said quietly, "It's only a game."
"Um, yeah. Sorry, it's just ... I feel kind of ... stupid."
"Good. Serves you right."
Nick was about to get in a huff, but he saw a glint of humor in Vachon's eyes. He smiled at Vachon, and promised to behave.
Vachon sat on the bed, and started tugging his boots off. "Ever been in such a hurry to get out of your britches, you forgot to take your boots off first?"
"Yeah," said Nick, "a couple of times." He sat on the bed, and took off his shoes and socks, as well.
"Me, too. Look." Vachon leaned towards Nick, and pushed his bangs up. A tiny silver-white scar was visible at his hairline. "Nearly busted my head open."
"Jealous husband?"
Vachon shook his head. "Bedpost. I got all tangled up trying to get my boots off, after I'd taken my drawers down. Wham!" He laughed and smacked his forehead with the palm of his hand.
"Ouch." Nick said sympathetically.
"Yeah, you're telling me. I'm more careful these days." Vachon ruffled Nick's hair. "Feeling better now?"
"Much." Nick smiled.
"Okay, then." Vachon grinned, and got to his knees, "Let's get naked."
Nick resumed unbuttoning his shirt, and right away, Vachon started criticizing his performance. "That sure is a lousy show you're putting on." he jeered, "I want my money back."
"What?"
"You're doing it wrong." Vachon scrambled off the bed, "Watch me."
He buttoned his jeans up again, and took a small bottle of lubricant from the nightstand, thumbed the cap open, and raised the little bottle over his head. He kept his eyes on Nick as the lubricant drizzled out. A thin strand spooled out onto his shoulder, trickled over his collarbone, and crept down his chest. He squeezed some lubricant into his hand, then tossed the bottle to Nick. Vachon spread the lubricant over his chest with one hand, and opened his fly with the other, one slow button at a time. "You're so pretty." he whispered, "You're so sexy."
Vachon reached into his snug-fitting jeans, and slowly drew out his cock. He pushed the jeans down a bit, and they fell off as if they were several sizes too large. Nick watched him stretch out onto the bed, and tease himself until he was hard and dripping. As if from a great distance, Nick heard him whisper, "Come on, sweet thing. Let's see what you got."
Feeling terribly self-conscious, Nick began to imitate Vachon's strip tease, stroking his throat, then his shoulder as he pushed his shirt off. Vachon told him he could close his eyes, if it would make him feel more comfortable.
"Just pretend I'm not here." he said.
With his eyes closed, Nick imagined he could still see Vachon. He pictured his slender body, slippery and gleaming with lubricant; saw him stroking his cock up and down. Somehow Nick found thinking about what Vachon was doing was even more erotic than watching him.
Vachon knew Nick had no idea how sexy he looked when he touched himself like that, so slow and gentle, the way he ran his hands through his hair, the way his hands never strayed below his shoulders; he was so shy. Nick kept his eyes shut tight as he pulled his shirttails out and drew off his belt, undid his zip and stepped out of his trousers; he concentrated on the feel of his hands moving over his face and throat, and the contrast between the scratchy stubble on his cheeks, and the smooth skin of his throat and shoulders.
Without summoning it, his change swept through him, and he moaned softly with the pleasure of it. As his fangs descended, he bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, and let it trickle down his chin. Feeling bolder, he slid his hands up and down his body, up to his throat, down over his chest and belly in slow circles, each time stopping just short of the waistband of his boxers. His arousal had made him forget his bashfulness, his breath came faster as he rubbed his thighs and flanks; beneath his hands the silk boxers slid around over his hard muscles, and he moaned again when he wrapped his fingers around his erection. He gave himself one slow hard squeeze, then slipped his shorts off. When he heard Vachon tell him to lie down on the bed, he opened his eyes.
Vachon's velvety brown eyes gleamed with foxfire, he smiled at Nick and showed his fangs.
"Want some lube?" he asked, as Nick lay down beside him. Without waiting for an answer, Vachon began anointing Nick's torso with the lubricant, making some sort of loopy pattern with the viscous fluid. "I'm writing my name." Vachon explained. He made an 'o' around Nick's belly button, and the 'n' landed on his cock. "Spread it around, like this." he said, demonstrating on his own body.
Watching Vachon spread the lubricant over his skin was almost more than Nick could stand.
He reached for him, but Vachon pushed his hand away. "You want some of this?" he said, inching his fingers down his belly, idling at the place where the thin line of hair spread into a soft nest of black curls. "Say please."
"Please." said Nick, reaching for him again. Vachon shook his head.
"Say it like you mean it. I wanna hear you beg." He climbed astride Nick, grabbed his wrists, and held his arms down. Vachon knelt over him, rocking back and forth, his cock just brushing against Nick's, driving both of them deeper into bloodlust. Nick obliged Vachon, and begged and pleaded, and said it like he meant it, as he strained to press against him.
Vachon knew Nick was restraining himself; being older and stronger, Nick could have easily thrown him off and fucked him silly. Vachon slid off of him, and scooted away. "Not yet." he whispered, "I want to watch you masturbate."
The request embarrassed Nick; he hesitated, and lost the mood. Vachon did his best to encourage him, he caressed himself, took his own swollen cock in his hand, stroked and squeezed it until it was stiff and drooling again, and eventually Nick responded to his demonstration.
Closing his eyes again, Nick focused on his own hands and body; the slippery wetness of the lubricant heightened the sensations of his self-pleasuring. When Vachon saw Nick's muscles tense, he grabbed his hands, and pinned him again. "You can't come until I do." Vachon reminded him.
Nick opened his eyes, and pleaded hoarsely, "Let me suck you while I do it."
"Do what, baby? Tell me. I want to hear you say it."
It was shocking, actually, thrilling and terribly erotic for Vachon to hear his uptight, buttoned-down lover talk dirty to him. He cradled Nick's head with both hands and fucked his mouth, matching his thrusts to the rhythm of Nick's hand.
When Nick began to tense again, and arch his back, Vachon's hand shot out and clamped around his wrist, in an attempt to slow his strokes. But Nick had already started to come, and Vachon was splattered with cool, milky red fluid. An instant later, Nick's mouth was filled to overflowing with Vachon's blood-tinged issue.
The game had roused their appetites, but playing had distracted them enough from the hunger to keep it from overwhelming them. Still trembling with the aftermath of release, they were ready to feed.
Vachon covered Nick's mouth with a fierce kiss. His fangs clashed against Nick's, and his tongue sought hungrily to lick the traces of semen out of his mouth. He broke off the kiss, and pushed Nick's head up to expose his throat. "I win." Vachon said gleefully, then sunk his teeth into his lover at the same moment his own throat was pierced.
As they fed, the separate notes of wood smoke and citrus, evergreen and meadow grass, spice and sea breeze mingled to became the unique, heady mixture that triggered their blood-bond. The echoes of their love play, still buzzing along their nerves, enhanced the orgasmic pleasure of feeding.
Vachon came first; his soft cry was muffled against Nick's shoulder. He wrapped his arms and legs around Nick, and worried at his throat. Nick followed soon after, shoving his hands under Vachon, holding him tight.
When Nick could talk again, he said, "I guess that first round goes to you."
"The score stands at love, one." Vachon said lazily.
"Isn't 'love' just for tennis?"
"And fucking."
As they drifted into sleep, Nick was startled awake by an impression of mortals nearby. His sudden movement woke Vachon, but when he stirred, Nick gently shushed him and leaned over him, in a protective manner. He reached out with his senses to get an idea of how close the mortals had come, trying to assess the general mood of the group before the church.
Unpleasant memories flared; flames and holy relics brandished by a terrified, angry mob; desperate flight ... they would be pulled from their hiding place, incinerated by the blazing sun. He shook off the memory and focused on the present. He stayed very still, listening ... then let out the breath he'd been holding.
"Nick?" Vachon whispered, "What's wrong?"
"False alarm. Just people going by outside."
"Oh, yeah. I forgot to tell you, there's a bus stop across the street."
Nick thought for a moment. "But anyone can just walk in here, you know." He got out of bed and put his shorts on.
Vachon rose up on one elbow to look at him. "Hey, you're not leaving?"
Nick shook his head. "No, I just want to put something on."
"Because...?"
"I take it, you've never been dragged from your bed in the middle of the day." Nick didn't look at him, but Vachon could feel a quick surge of anger, not directed at him, thankfully.
Nick got back into bed. "Sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you."
Vachon tangled his legs up with Nick's. "Want to talk about it?"
"No ... and anyway, you shouldn't hear things like that before you go to sleep."
"Tell me a bedtime story, then." Vachon coaxed, running his hand lightly over Nick's chest.
"Go to sleep. I'll tell you a story some other time, okay?"
"Okay. Sweet dreams." Vachon lay his head on Nick's shoulder, and promptly fell asleep.
Nick lay on his back, listening to the sounds out on the street; telling himself that, even if someone *was* hunting vampires, an abandoned church was the probably the last place any one would go looking for them.
* * * * * * * *
Vachon heard someone moving around in his room, and pulled a pillow over his head, rolling away from the muffled sounds. It was twilight, but he wasn't ready to wake up yet.
He protested inarticulately when his pillow was snatched away.
"Hey, sleepyhead." Nick smoothed his hand over Vachon's brow. He was dressed, except for his jacket. Vachon liked the way the steel-blue shirt complimented Nick's eyes.
"Hey," the sleepyhead smiled up at him, "where do you think you're going?"
"I've got errands to run." said Nick, "Maybe I'll see you later?"
Instead of answering, Vachon grabbed his shoulders and pulled him down. Nick surrendered to this affectionate onslaught, laughing, "As much as I'd like to, I can't lay around in bed all night."
"Just long enough to give me some sugar." Vachon murmured, gold threads seeping into his eyes, "Take me ... hard ... hurt me a little." he murmured, "Hurry, baby ... no, don't take your clothes off."
Nick stroked the side of Vachon's face, his soft beard, and his pretty, girlish mouth. Growling quietly, he ran his hands over Vachon's bare shoulders, then roughly turned him around, and pulled him against his chest. Nick felt the soft razor stubble rasp against his face and lips, as he kissed and nuzzled Vachon's throat. He was humoring his lover by roughing him up; his heart wasn't really in it. With one hand on Vachon's forehead, Nick wrenched his head back hard enough to have broken a mortal's neck. He waited until Vachon was whimpering, then he struck with all his force.
The sweet-spiced blood, heavy with Vashon's fire surged down Nick's throat, igniting his own lust and need for violence. With a snarl, he flung Vachon onto his back, pinned him to the mattress, and ripped his throat open. Vachon struggled and cried out, writhing under him, driving him to further destruction. His belt buckle scored deep gouges in Vachon's belly from the force of his thrusts. Nick dug his nails into Vachon, tearing his skin, until his arms and shoulders were covered with streaming wounds. Vachon wriggled his hand under Nick to unloosen his belt and unfasten the front of his trousers, but Nick grabbed his wrist. "No." he said, in a harsh voice, "Not until I say you can."
He shoved Vachon's legs apart with his knees and drove into him again, squeezing his wrist tighter and harder. He felt the bones snap under his fingers, and the sound, more than Vachon's shout or the echo of pain through the blood, shocked him back from his vicious feeding. "I can't do this." he whispered, "I'm sorry, Vachon. I have to stop."
Nick slid off of Vachon, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, then tried to hold him. Vachon was still writhing against him; nearly sobbing, he begged and swore, biting Nick through his shirt. Nick began to clean the blood from Vachon's skin with his tongue, but Vachon pushed him away.
"No!" he shouted, "Not like that!" In frustration, he clouted Nick in the jaw and shoved him against the headboard. He lunged before Nick could recover, sinking his fangs deep into the side of his neck. The attack roused Nick's fury, and he threw Vachon over and tore into him again. The younger vampire was no contest, Nick held him down and eventually he stopped struggling.
Once again, Vachon insinuated his hands between them; this time he was successful, he undid Nick's trousers and tugged them down low on his hips. Nick's rage melted against the cool flesh beneath his lips, and rough lovemaking supplanted the brutal coupling.
Salt-spray and evergreen burned like a flare in Vachon's mind when he slipped his fangs into Nick's throat. He swallowed a mouthful of Nick's blood; it was super-saturated with his own essence. Vachon swallowed again, and came immediately, clutching Nick's shoulders, and convulsing beneath him, then his body went rigid,and his shivering brought Nick with him.
Long after the intensity of orgasm faded, they lay comfortably together, drinking slowly from one another, relishing the connection of blood-bond. Vachon fell back onto the pillows and sighed, "Sweet mother of pearl ... where did you learn to fuck like that?"
Nick smiled and pulled him close. "How's your wrist?"
"All better." Vachon assured him, "Good as new."
"I didn't know you liked to play so rough." Nick said, after a moment.
"Um-hmm ... well, sometimes. Hey, have you got your handcuffs with you?"
"They're called restraints."
"Whatever." Vachon laughed, "How about it? A little police brutality?"
"No way." Nick was adamant.
Vachon rose up to look at him, surprised by his vehemence.
"You can't *really* hurt me, you know."
"I don't like getting that close to the edge." Nick said quietly, "It frightens me when I loose control like that."
"You're more comfortable in a submissive role." Vachon ventured to guess. "And, that's cool, and everything, but I can't really see myself as your Dom."
Nick didn't say anything, he felt very uncomfortable even discussing this aspect of his sexuality. Vachon turned the conversation back to his own preferences. "I'm not into any kind of a scene, like ritual discipline, or anything like that. I just like to get roughed up a little, now and then."
"I don't know, Vach." Nick said, "That really scared me."
"What if we had a safe word?"
"What's that?"
"You are *so* square." Vachon said fondly. "Sometimes, saying, 'no' or 'stop', is part of the game." he explained. "So, you have another word to let your partner know if things are getting out of hand, something you ordinarily wouldn't say in the throes of passion ... like, 'button'."
Nick rolled his eyes, "Not that."
Vachon grinned, "Why not?"
"Because Tracy would have a cow, that's why not." Nick protested, laughing at the absurdity of using *that* word in such context.
"Only if she found out."
The sobering effect of Vachon's statement was as good as a bucket of ice water dashed over them. "We have to tell her." he said, after a long pause.
"I started to." said Nick, "But, I still think you should be the one to tell her."
"I'll tell her about us, if you come clean-"
"No! Tracy doesn't need to know about me."
"Yeah, she does, Nick. All of it."
Nick looked unhappily at him, "She's a Resister."
"She's your partner." Vachon said quietly. "Do you want me to tell her?"
"No," Nick sighed, "I'll do it." He stroked the back of Vachon's head, still filled with the lazy euphoria of lovemaking.
Reluctantly, he got ready to leave. Vachon lay back watching him straighten his clothes. "Have you had your fill of me, or would you still like to get together later on?"
"Were I surfeited with thy honey, I would n'er begin to loathe the taste of sweetness." Nick paraphrased, trying to keep a suitable expression on his face.
"Oh, brother." Vachon rolled his eyes. "Was that a yes?"
"Absolument ... oui ... je veux bien ... mais si." Nick punctuated each assent with a kiss on the back of Vachon's neck, making him hunch his shoulders and shriek with laughter.
"Then quit bugging me, and go run your errands already!"
* * * * * * * *
Nick went down the stairs, adjusting his shirt cuffs, then stopped on the landing and smiled to himself. He was a mess; his shirt was wrinkled and smeared with blood and semen. He thought he'd better go home to shower and change before doing his errands.. Running lightly down the rest of the stairs, he nearly collided with-
"Tracy! ... You startled me."
He was glad it was so dark on the stairs; he wasn't prepared to answer any questions about the stuff all over his shirt.
"Hey, Nick!" she smiled, then gave him a puzzled look, "I didn't see your car out front."
"Oh. I ... um, I didn't drive over." Nick said, and smiled back at her. "I'm glad you're still speaking to me."
"Yeah." she said, "I'm sorry I was such a troll about the re-assignment."
"No, you were right. I should have discussed it with you first."
Nick took a deep breath and ran his hands through his hair. "Um, Tracy? Are you and Vach going out, or anything tonight?"
Tracy shrugged, "Well, we don't have any plans. Why?"
"I need to talk with you ... about something."
"Yeah, I remember." she nodded, "You started to tell me last night."
"So, do you think maybe later we could, uh ..." his voice trailed off, and he ran his hands through his hair again.
"Sure, Nick. I could stop by your place later tonight, or tomorrow afternoon if you'd like." she said, as she started up the stairs.
"Okay, sure. That would be great." said Nick, with an enthusiasm he didn't feel. He opened the heavy front door, then looked back into the darkened church, wondering just what he was going to tell her.
to be continued ...
in The Other Man 2