Nick was restless. The "Jerry Show" murders were wrapped up; he and Nat were reconciled (sort of); but he still felt odd - dislocated. He reached for the remote and opened the steel shutters, allowing moonlight to flood the loft. Pouring himself another glass from the open bottle in front of him, he stared into its depths.

His mouth twisted, self-mockingly. Cow. Bovine stupidity. He heard LaCroix' voice goading him: "He used to be so ... entertaining." , he thought wryly.

No residual emotion ... life ... passion. Just ... survival. Maybe Nat was right. Maybe I should just stop drinking it, give her protein shakes a real chance...> His stomach roiled at the thought.

"Too much introspection is bad for the soul, Nicholas." He could almost hear LaCroix. "As long as we are true to our natures ..." Nick slammed his glass onto the table, grabbed his keys and headed for the elevator.

***

The noise hit him as soon as he stepped through the door. The noise and the smell. Blood pulsing beneath fragile skin and - almost overpowering - the scent of human arousal. Nick fought to keep his fangs in place. Seeing his expression, the barman reached for a bottle of "Knight's Special" from under the bar, but Nick stopped him with a growl. "Not tonight. Tonight I'll have the regular." Startled, the other vampire changed direction and placed a new glass in front of Nick. The aroma hit him hard, and he went completely still for a long moment, then picked up the glass and drained it. "Again" he gestured, then as the barman complied - "and leave the bottle."

"Drinking alone Nick? Not working tonight?" A leather-clad arm came into Nick's peripheral vision, and picked up his glass. "Not your usual vintage either."

"Vachon." Nick greeted him flatly, not reacting to the amusement in the younger man's voice.

Vachon frowned. Something wasn't right here. OK, they weren't bosom buddies, but he had thought they were friends, after a fashion. And Nick was never deliberately rude. "Want to talk about it?" he asked reluctantly. The response wasn't quite what he had anticipated.

"*Talk* about it? To *you*? What would you know about it? How could someone like you understand a tenth ... a thousandth of what I'm feeling? Javier Vachon, always on the move, without a care in the world. Mr. No Responsibility himself!"

Vachon glanced around wildly. Nick hadn't bothered to lower his voice, and his eyes were glinting dangerously. The crowd which had begun to form around them stirred as the familiar figure of LaCroix strode towards them.

"Nicholas," he said coldly, "this is not the place for this How dare you cause this kind of scene here. Remember where you are," he hissed. "You are losing control, and I want to know why." His icy gaze swept over Vachon. "You. Take him to the back room and *keep him there* until I have finished my show." He snapped his fingers at the barman, who placed a full bottle in the outstretched hand. "Take this. I don't know if it will help or hinder, but do whatever it takes to keep him out of trouble until I get back."

Vachon cast one last desperate look at the door, then, seizing Nick's arm in one hand and the bottle in the other, he dragged the resisting Nick towards the privacy of LaCroix' quarters. With the door shut, away from curious eyes, Vachon let his own anger show. "You stupid ... What were you trying to do out there? Prove to the world vampires exist? Force us into hypnotising a whole room full of people? What about the resisters? Kill them? You have the nerve to call me irresponsible? You put us all at risk, Nick! Why?"

Nick turned away. "What do you care?"

Vachon growled low in his throat, spun Nick around and slammed him against the wall. In a full fight he was unlikely to win against the older, more experienced, vampire; but right now he was too angry to care. "That's the second time you've said that tonight. What right have you to judge me? If I didn't care, I wouldn't still be in Toronto. If I didn't care, I wouldn't be here *right now*. I'd let you go and commit suicide or whatever it was you were trying to do out there." He held Nick's arms outstretched against the wall, his body pinned under the weight of his own. "Are you listening to me?"

Nick groaned, struggling half-heartedly. "I don't ... I need ..." His head turned restlessly from side to side. "Please, Vachon ... let me go..."

Vachon frowned at the new note in Nick's voice, then his brow smoothed in understanding as he became aware of the growing bulge pressed against his hip. The awareness brought a jolt of arousal to his own body, startling him with its intensity. He had *never* thought of Nick Knight in that way - hell, only a handful of men in all his 400+ years had ever affected him like that! He shifted slightly, allowing his own burgeoning erection to slide across Nick's.

"You think I don't understand, Nick? You think you're the only one to ever feel emotion? Tormenting yourself won't change the past, my friend - we can only change the future by what we do today. We can't see what the future will be, either; but whatever we do - or don't do - will shape it."

He flexed his hips, dragging an unwilling hiss from Nick's lips. "LaCroix told me to do whatever it took to keep you here," he smiled softly, "but I don't think he had this in mind. For once, Nick, stop thinking! Let your instincts take over. I know what you need, what you want." He stepped back from the older man, releasing him. "I do know what you want." He turned and walked to the centre of the room, sinking to his knees on the thick rug. "Let me show you just how much I do understand..."

Nick stepped towards Vachon's outstretched hand, automatically removing his jacket. "But you ... I thought you ..."

"I told you to *stop* thinking, Nick! Yes, I love women. Yes, I have occasionally been with men. I am a *vampire*, Nick! Blood calls to me! I don't take it indiscriminately, but each drop is a precious gift that brings me life and pleasure. Sometimes, though, only another vampire can give us what we truly need. That unique sharing of blood and passion. Stop thinking, Nick, just feel...."

At last, Nick let out his breath in an explosive sigh, and joined the other man on the rug. He reached out an unsteady hand and brushed a strand of long dark hair from Vachon's cheek. "I've been tormented by this," he murmured. "Last night at the bar when I leaned over your shoulder I wanted to bury my face in your hair, feel it draped over my body. I could smell... Tracy's shampoo? and you... cedar forests and moonlight..."

Vachon had forgotten to breathe, all his senses concentrating on their one point of contact, Nick's fingers resting against his jaw, and that hypnotic voice caressing him. a tiny portion of his brain muttered weakly. "Nick!" he got out hoarsely. "Please..."

"I thought of all the things I could do to you ... with you ...kiss you...taste you...what it would feel like to bury myself inside you ... to hear you cry out my name as your body convulsed around me. And then..." his face twisted for a moment in pain.

"You thought I wouldn't understand, that I didn't care. Nick, let me show you..."

Shaking fingers busied themselves with buttons, zips. Clothing slithered from limbs and torsos, revealing pale sculpted bodies hard with muscle and tense with need. Afterwards, neither could say who moved first, but suddenly they were in each other's arms, so close it was as if they were trying to crawl inside each other's skin. The shock of contact caused eyes to blaze gold, and fangs to lengthen. Nick dragged his head back from Vachon's mouth with a gasp. "Too much," he whispered. He rested his forehead against the other as he fought for control. "Let's do this right - let me love you ..."

Vachon closed his eyes, and tried to force his brain to construct coherent phrases. "Nick ... please ... just don't wait too long. Just listening to your voice makes me harder than I can ever remember ... please ... don't make me wait ..."

Lost in desire, Vachon writhed on the rug, wordlessly inviting Nick's touch. He drew up one knee, opening himself to the other's gaze, so intense he could feel it like tiny fingers over his flesh. His hips moved, drawing Nick's eyes back to his glistening cock.

Nick smiled in wonder. This amazingly sexy, surprisingly perceptive, unexpectedly wanton creature was begging him, Nick, to take him! Suddenly, he wasn't so sure he could wait, either. He slid his body over Vachon with a growl, and grazed his throat with his teeth. Vachon bucked beneath him, matching him stroke for stroke as they drove on in their frantic race to completion. Close now, very close ... Nick bit down hard, sinking his fangs deep into Vachon's throat. The rush of blood triggered his orgasm just as Vachon sank his own fangs into Nick's neck. Sensation exploded into his brain - Vachon's bright personality: compassionate yet ruthless when he had to be; sorrow for loved ones lost; his ease with his vampiric self - all the contradictions that made him Javier Vachon. And over all, the passion he felt for Nick, uncomplicated and without guilt - simply the passion and the blood.

Slowly the two withdrew their fangs, and lapped at the healing wounds until the bleeding stopped. Nick's own thoughts were more complex than Vachon's, but he forced them back. The time for post-mortems would come later - he thought with a jolt. Then Vachon's tongue distracted him, softly cleaning the spilt blood from his face, and everything else lost all importance. He rolled onto his back, pulling the younger vampire over him. Their initial overpowering hunger sated, they could take time to explore each others bodies, savouring the experience.

As Vachon slid down his body, cleaning him with his tongue, his cock twitched with reawakening interest. Nick grinned. "That's one aspect of being a vampire I'm perfectly happy with - a fast recovery!" Vachon's eyes met his. "And *I'm* perfectly happy to agree with you!" He continued his downward journey, pausing to lick little circles on Nick's stomach, interspersed with tiny nips soothed by open-mouthed kisses. It was Nick's turn to gasp with delight as Vachon moved down to bathe first one thigh then the other with wet kisses. He came to a stop, poised above Nick's now-rampant erection, and slowly lowered his head. His long dark hair hung in a curtain around his face and over the sensitive head of Nick's cock. He cried out at the sensation, straight out of his wildest fantasies about this man. Then he no longer had any breath to make a sound as Vachon wrapped a length of hair around his cock and stroked his hand along its length. Nick gave himself up to the delightful sensations for the space of several heartbeats, then stopped his tormentor with a firm grip on his wrist.

"Stop, now," he murmured, "it's my turn. I've barely begun to explore my fantasies of you." He stretched Vachon out on the rug and knelt between his thighs. For a moment he just looked at the body spread out before him, while Vachon squirmed under his gaze. Trails of pink still decorated his stomach, so Nick bent forwards to trace them with his tongue. The taste, slightly copper and salt, was redolent of the passion they had shared, and Nick's body throbbed in anticipation of a repeat performance. He stilled the other's hips with his hands, and drew the rigid shaft as far as he could into his mouth.

The two vampires, golden eyes flecked red with hunger, extended fangs aching with the need to bite, were totally engrossed in each other - lost to all other considerations. Faint sounds trickled in from the club, but were not worthy of note. Even the sound of the door opening and quietly closing had no effect.

LaCroix leaned back against the door and watched the scene in front of him. He had known what was happening of course - Nick's emotions had poured through their link. When he had ordered Vachon to take care of Nick, he had half expected them to end up at each others throats - figuratively, at least - but the degree of passion unleashed was unexpected. He felt a momentary twinge of jealousy, but pushed it aside as a human emotion quite unworthy of a vampire! The view, he thought, was inspiring. Nick's back was to the door and he had spread his knees. opening Vachon further to his ministrations. As he bent forward, lips sliding up and down Vachon's shaft, Nick's rear view was indeed a tempting sight. The vision was too much for the ancient vampire.

"My, Nicholas," he drawled, "it's refreshing to see such enthusiasm for your work."

Vachon let out a howl as Nick's fangs delivered a particularly painful bite, and they both shot to their feet swaying with shock and abruptly terminated arousal.

"I haven't seen such a diverting sight since those little get-togethers in the villa at Pompeii after the Germanic campaign. I remember one occasion..." His eyes narrowed. "I do hope you are going to have my rug cleaned."

The two glanced down guiltily. The luxurious pile was now unmistakably marked with blood sweat and spilt semen. Nick was the first to find his voice. "Master," the old title slipping out unnoticed, "of course I'll have it cleaned... replaced... anything you want."

LaCroix, who had of course noticed the "master", smiled inwardly. "Anything I want, my son?" "Very well. The bedroom is that way. By the way, what did you do with ... ahh, there it is." He spied the forgotten bottle of blood wine lying undamaged on the floor where Vachon had dropped it. "That is no way to treat a fine vintage! Never mind. Bring it!"

Nick and Vachon exchanged bemused glances, then Vachon scrambled to pick up the bottle and collect some glasses from the cabinet LaCroix indicated. LaCroix took the bottle and removed the cork. "A little refreshment, children?" He poured, then twitched the covers off the huge bed. "Make yourselves comfortable. Now, what shall we drink to?"

His blue eyes glinted as he surveyed the two naked men in front of him. Both clearly ill at ease, they perched awkwardly on the edge of the great bed. he thought, "To blood!" he said suddenly. "Blood is our life. We experience the world through it while it sustains us. The passion we feel is expressed in blood ..."

"To blood!" Nick interrupted. "Drink, Vachon, before he gets too carried away with the sound of his own voice!" Vachon's eyes widened - he would never dare take such liberties with the ancient vampire. Nick however had relaxed, his mouth quirked into a half-smile. "Here we are," he mused, "and having come this far I intend to finish what we started. If you intend to join us LaCroix, you are a trifle overdressed."

LaCroix sipped his blood wine thoughtfully, his instant irritation at Nick's interruption fading. Vachon still looked a little wild-eyed, much to LaCroix' amusement. Nicholas though... Nicholas had finished his glass and set it down carefully on the floor. He scooted backwards on the bed, resting on his left elbow with his right knee drawn up, blatantly teasing LaCroix. LaCroix sighed. Nicholas would inevitably regret this tomorrow, but there was no way he, LaCroix, was going to turn down such an invitation. He finished his drink then set the glass down beside the other. Vachon hurriedly did likewise, then watched in awe as LaCroix slowly undressed. He had never envisaged himself in this situation, never in his darkest fantasies. He had been secretly attracted to LaCroix' power and air of coiled menace, even while being frightened by it. He had *never* imagined being this close to the man himself, watching him take off his clothes! His mouth went dry as more of the smooth pale chest was exposed - muscles forged in all-but-forgotten campaigns preserved forever at their peak. His fingers itched to touch that cool perfection ... and more!

"Patience, little conquistador!" LaCroix had noticed the signals his body was giving. "Nicholas, mon fils..."

Nick took Vachon by the shoulders and drew him back onto the bed, gently arranging the long limbs against the black satin sheets. His fingers continued to trace invisible patterns over Vachon's skin while they both kept their eyes on LaCroix. Shirt unbuttoned completely now, he slid it from his shoulders and turned to lay it neatly on a chair. Shoes and socks were next, then he turned back to face his two companions. Long fingers paused at the fastening of his trousers, then oh-so-slowly lowered the zip. Twin groans were drawn from two throats as the fabric descended inch by inch, revealing the black silk shorts underneath. LaCroix again tidily placed his trousers on the chair, enjoying the impatience pouring in waves off the two waiting vampires.

"Enough, LaCroix! Do you mean to tease us all night? Come!" Nick growled.

LaCroix bowed in wry acknowledgement, and settled onto the bed with a sigh of satisfaction. the other two ranged themselves on either side and reached for him, eager for contact with his lean body. Nick pressed against LaCroix' right side, content for a moment to simply absorb the scent and feel of his erstwhile lover. "LaCroix," he breathed against the other's throat, "no matter how hard I tried to forget how good it feels to touch you like this, the memories kept haunting my dreams. I tried to convince myself I don't need this, but..."

"But tonight your nature has reasserted itself. The blood you shared with Vachon has left you wanting more, has it not, mon fils? Your games on my poor rug were most ... arousing. We can only be glad that none of *your* family was in the club tonight, Vachon, or we could have been dealing with a riot."

Vachon made no reply. He was concentrating on the sensation of cool skin under his fingers, strange and familiar both at the same time. He breathed in, open-mouthed, tasting the scent of the older man. Leaning forward, he flicked his tongue tentatively against LaCroix' chest, then growing bolder he began a serious exploration of the skin within his reach.

"Our young friend is a true sensualist ... and an extremely talented one at that." LaCroix slid a hand into Vachon's hair, running the silky strands through his fingers. A moan escaped him as Vachon's clever tongue encountered a flat nipple and teased it to a throbbing bud. Not to be outdone, Nick turned his attention to its twin until the double onslaught became almost too much for LaCroix and he pulled their heads away. Nick and Vachon grinned at one another and as if rehearsed both moved to the end of the bed where they each took possession of a foot. Moist kisses were laid on the ticklish instep, then cool tongues swirled around his toes, rhythmically sucking in promise of delights to come. Gradually the pair worked their way upwards, bathing LaCroix with their tongues, until they reached the barrier of his shorts.

By now LaCroix' control was wavering - he had not had the luxury of feeding as the others had earlier. Nick and Vachon sat up, and Vachon reached for the half-empty bottle which he gave to LaCroix. Draining it in a single swallow, he handed it back to Vachon with a grimace. It had had little or no effect on his hunger - he could feel the need coiling tighter inside him. He contemplated throwing one of his companions onto his back and thrusting into his body, but the deliciously slow ministrations of the two younger vampires was something he had not enjoyed for a very long time. He knew that his present torment was his reward for his earlier teasing - and his own patience would bring greater satisfaction if he could maintain control!

Nick stroked the ball of his thumb across LaCroix' mouth. "Patience," he echoed, sensing the other's conflict. "Turn over on your stomach."

LaCroix complied silently, and a thrill of anticipation ran through him. The two resumed their languorous exploration of his body, from the nape of his neck to his feet, scrupulously avoiding all contact with the area covered by his shorts. Turning him over again, Vachon turned his attention once more to his chest. He seemed fascinated by it: the way the muscles leapt under his fingers; the feel of a nipple hard under his thumb; the reverberation of sound as LaCroix groaned under his tongue.

Nick slid down the bed. It had been decades since he had allowed himself the pleasure of this man's body, and the anticipation was almost too much.

He stared, golden-eyed, at the black silk, a spreading patch of damp betraying the state of the hidden shaft. He bent forward and rubbed his cheek along its length. LaCroix' hips jerked involuntarily as Nick carefully peeled back the covering to reveal his prize. It was his turn to moan as he saw that long shaft engorged with blood, glistening wetly at the tip. His tongue licked his lips then darted out to flick the oozing slit.

Sensation overwhelmed them both, and Nick lunged forward even as LaCroix raised his hips, forcing his shaft deep into Nick's throat. Nick drew back quickly, gagging a little at the sudden intrusion. More cautiously, he slid his lips back down the shaft, his tongue exploring the ridged underside. They soon re-established a rhythm, the strong muscles of Nick's tongue and throat driving LaCroix beyond control. He cried out as his orgasm shook him, and spasmed wildly in Nick's mouth. The need to bite took over, and he bit savagely into Vachon's shoulder. Nick swallowed, his throat continuing to massage LaCroix' cock until he was still, his fangs slipping from Vachon's flesh as he lay back.

***

Nick sat up and locked eyes with Vachon. "My turn, I think" he grinned.

"Now, where were we before we were interrupted?" He pushed Vachon back against the pillows and covered his body with his own. "Aaah, now I remember."

Chest to chest, thigh to thigh, the two were a perfect match. Nick's blondness contrasted starkly with Vachon's body - equally pale but freely sprinkled with dark hair. LaCroix mused, his earlier thought returning forcibly. He moved back to allow them more room - and to allow himself a better view!

Nick rocked against Vachon's body drawing moans from them both, muffled as their lips met. Time stood still as they kissed for the first time, inhaling each others unique essence: sandalwood and cedar, spiced with copper and passion. Tongues met and fought for dominance. Nick drew Vachon's tongue into his mouth and suckled it. Vachon's hands roamed over Nick's body, clutching convulsively in response to the erotic stimulation.

Nick luxuriated in the texture of Vachon's skin against his own, the roughnness tightening his nipples. With a growl he flipped them both over, enjoying the weight of Vachon's body resting on his own. Touch and taste, they explored each other - learning just where to place a kiss to best effect, the hidden places where a lick or a gentle nip could make eyes flare gold.

Nick's hands seemed fascinated by the muscular firmness of Vachon's ass with its tempting valley. His hands returned time and again, probing its secrets with light teasing caresses then withdrawing only to return with a more demanding touch.

"Nick ... please ... I need you inside me ... please ... I need..." Vachon's voice was hoarse with desire, and a drop of blood trickled from his mouth where he had bitten his own lip in his efforts to stay in control. Nick lapped at it, then flipped his lover on to his back. "No, stay," he whispered when the other would have turned on to his stomach, "I want to watch your face when I come inside you." Vachon's eyes closed for a moment as the image washed over him. "Yes," he whispered, "whatever you want..."

Nick moved between Vachon's legs and leaned in to place a series of kisses along the length of his cock. He explored the sensitive area hidden behind his balls with his tongue, then began to probe the opening to his lover's body.

"Nicholas, perhaps you would allow me ... "

Nick looked across at the other golden-eyed vampire, and held one hand out towards him. LaCroix seized his fingers and drew them into his mouth while Nick continued to tease Vachon with his tongue. Vachon was gasping now. "Aaagh, Nick, please ... I can't last much longer ... I need you ..."

Nick tore his hand from Lacroix' mouth, deliberately ripping his fingertips on LaCroix' fangs. Wet with blood and saliva, he thrust first one then two fingers inside Vachon's trembling body. The taste of Nick's blood exploded in LaCroix' mouth, unbearably sweet after such a long absence. He wet his own fingers as he moved behind the other two and nudged Nick's legs apart.

Steadying himself with one hand on his son's back he began to caress him in the same way Nick was pleasuring Vachon. Nick froze as a cool finger slid into his body, then shivered as his master's breath tickled his neck. "Take him, Nicholas! See how he hovers on the edge, waiting for you? Take him! Slide into that eager body, fill him up! Then pull back and impale yourself on me - feel *me* filling *you*! Give and take! Feel his muscles grip you, drain you! Surrender to him! Surrender to me!"

Nick's control snapped. Sliding his arms under Vachon's thighs, he surged upwards, burying himself deep within the younger vampire. Vachon's cry of mingled pain and pleasure only fueled Nick's frenzy. He withdrew a little from Vachon and braced himself. "Now, LaCroix! Do it! Take me! Take us both!"

The pain of LaCroix entering his inadequately prepared body was white-hot, but it quickly faded to the red-gold blaze of pleasure as the head of LaCroix' cock nudged his prostate. Vachon moaned at the extra weight as LaCroix slammed Nick's shaft deeper inside him, and his muscles tightened as if trying to hold Nick in place. The dual sensations were too much for Nick. "I can't ... LaCroix ... Vachon ... I'm ..." He cried out as his orgasm overtook him, spurting into Vachon's own convulsing body. The resulting tremors dragged LaCroix too over the edge. As the first convulsions hit him, Nick bit into Vachon's throat, filling himself with the other's life-force just as his body was emptying itself into the man beneath him. LaCroix sank his fangs eagerly into Nick, rejoicing at the rush of blood too long denied him. Vachon completed the circle by seizing LaCroix' arm and tearing at his wrist.

The three drank deeply until they could taste their own orgasms in the blood cycling among them. Myriad images poured through their link. Lost cities, forgotten battles. Faces of men and women: some loved, some disdained. And overlaying all, astonishment at the shattering intensity of this sharing.

Slowly, each withdrew, and they collapsed into a tangle of arms and legs, still licking desultorily at closing wounds. Vachon, at the bottom of the pile, reluctantly broke the mood. "Let me up!" he gasped. "I'm too exhausted to push you off and you're squashing me!"

With much protesting and groaning the three disentangled themselves. LaCroix pushed himself to his feet and headed for the living room, returning moments later with several bottles. "The private collection," he announced, handing a bottle to each of his lovers before settling back down between them. "Guaranteed restorative qualities!" Not bothering with glasses this time, the three drank hungrily.

"We drank a toast to Blood earlier this evening," LaCroix said thoughtfully. the others turned to him, content now to let his velvet voice stroke their senses. "Blood is not only our life, our passion, but it binds us to one another. By sharing our blood, we each carry a little of the other within us. For a brief moment we are not ourselves, but the sum of each other as we absorb each others' thoughts ... dreams ... desires. There is no - *can* be no - human equivalent. It is what we are. The bond can only strengthen with renewal ..."

Nick stretched out an arm and drew LaCroix down to rest against his body, with Vachon curled at his other side. "Rest now, mon pere, we have an eternity for more ... bonding."

They slept.

Notes: No rugs (made from pure New Zealand virgin wool, of course!) were harmed during the creation of this work.

LaCroix' musings about the *parties* in Pompeii were suggested by the frescoes in Nancy Kaminski's wonderful story "Music Hath Charms". I sincerely hope she doesn't mind me borrowing them!

I don't know who first suggested the scent of sandalwood as Nick's personal essence, but it appears in a number of stories ... so I shamelessly used it too. As far as I am aware, Vachon's cedar scent is my own invention! (But I think it suits him!)

If I have inadvertently adopted anyone else's ideas without acknowledgement (I've read a *lot* of fanfic, so it's entirely possible!) ... I grovel in abject apology. Please let me know!

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