Characters beloved creations of James L Parriott. No copyright infringement intended. m/m (explicit) - for the unnamed faction

A quick romp meant as a distraction for any UFers currently involved in writing a complicated piece with a plot, as I am. Sometimes the mind just wants to have some fun!

This Corrosion
by elfin

    The Raven was filling for the night, with mortals and vampires alike, when a golden-eyed Nicholas Knight flung open the front door, pushing ahead of several younger vampires who knew better than to get in his way. He stalked through the club, glancing to the bar yet sensing the one he sought was in the back of the club... in the office. Anger and vampiric hunger boiling just below the surface, Nicholas pushed open the door of the office, slamming it back against the wall behind. He had half-expected not to find LaCroix alone, but there was no one else in the room; the older vampire was sorting through some papers. He looked up, as if surprised to see his son standing before him. Maybe he was; he had not been paying too much attention to their link recently.

Nicholas slammed the door behind him, glaring at his father through fire-tinted eyes. "Three days and three nights, LaCroix," he growled. "Have you quite finished?"
The elder's eyes widened. "I... I was unaware that my personal life was any of your business, Nicholas." The words, though flippant were almost stammered; LaCroix had not realized that he had been projecting to his son, he was not prepared for this confrontation.
"I don't seem to have much of a choice in the matter at the moment. And anyway, why shouldn't it be? My personal life - every aspect of my life - has always been your business, has it not?"
LaCroix frowned; Nicholas, it seemed, was fully prepared for this encounter. "What do you want, Nicholas?"
For a moment, nothing passed between them, mentally or in speech. And then Nick growled out a single word; "you".

LaCroix dropped the papers he was holding, suddenly losing any interest he might have had in them. In the blink of an eye, Nicholas was before him, his face an inch away from that of his father, pushing the taller man back, hard against the wall. The elder did not have time for anything but a surprised exclamation through their link before Nicholas' mouth was on his, his son's tongue pressing against his lips, demanding entrance.

Shock or no, LaCroix was not about to start a fight over it. He allowed Nicholas to plunder his mouth, to explore as roughly as he liked. The elder vampire was more than willing to let his son's odd behaviour lead them in this little dance, one he had fantasised about for a great many years; it had been centuries since their last sexual encounter, and consent then had not been completely... mutual.

Nick pulled away from his father's mouth, starting his way down the cool, alabaster neck. He nipped a path down, scraping a careless fang through the skin now and again, lapping at the droplets of blood the tiny wounds allowed to escape before they healed. LaCroix tilted his head, giving Nicholas better access, feeling his son's fingers gripping through his close-cut hair. The elder's reaction to this sudden, highly unexpected event was becoming increasingly obvious and uncomfortable, and he thrust gently against his son, hoping to encourage, yet afraid of breaking whatever spell had been cast to promote such a retaliation from his usually distant child.

Pulling back, Nick suddenly and swiftly moved them, turning LaCroix and pushing him back against the unforgiving edge of the large wooden desk. With a single sweep of his arm, Nick cleared the top with a series of clatters and one or two smashes as glass collided rapidly with the stone floor. Neither vampire noticed nor cared. LaCroix seated himself on the desk, legs dangling as his son seemed to want. Leaning back, he put his arms behind him, out to support him, as Nick started to quickly and wordlessly, undo the buttons down the front of his black silk shirt. He schooled his expression carefully, knowing that mocking Nicholas would be the worst stupidity at this juncture. He tried to stay composed, as far as his current condition would allow, and noticed, possibly for the first time since this had begun, that Nicholas was not actually dressed for this occasion. His son was wearing a white shirt, buttoned all the way up, with a deep blue silk waistcoat that matched his eyes beautifully; Nick was dressed for work, and with the hour such as it was, LaCroix guessed that his son was only just on his way, or maybe in mid-shift. Whichever it was, he certainly was not supposed to be here, doing what he was doing to his master. LaCroix drew the conclusion, before his mind was wiped clean of conscious thinking, that this was an impulsive visit and had not been planned. An interesting thought... and his last for a while.

LaCroix dropped his head back as Nick circled each nipple in turn, lapping with his tongue, sliding the needle-sharp tip of a single fang into the delicate centre of each hardening bud, fastening himself there for a long moment, drinking in his sire's essence, listening triumphantly to his cries of ecstasy. LaCroix's straining erection was becoming painfully trapped in the confines of his tight black trousers. He too was not dressed for such an encounter. He was about to attempt a nonchalant hint to his son, when Nick's mouth suddenly returned to the other's, and his hands dropped to LaCroix' groin, finally working to free the trapped erection he had caused.

The elder moaned into Nicholas' mouth as his shaft was finally granted freedom and sprang into Nick's waiting hand. He was rewarded with a tight squeeze, fingernails jabbing into the thick base, forcing another, deeper cry from him. LaCroix could not help but bring his arms up around his son's waist to hold him tightly as that wicked tongue scraped across the base of his fangs, dripping a drop or two of his son's precious blood against his own tongue. He tasted scant samples of the elixir he so desperately wanted to drink of. Yet with barely restrained impatience, he allowed Nicholas to continue to lead. For now.

A moment later, Nick pulled out of his father's embrace and pushed him back until he was lying on the desk. LaCroix saw his trousers removed; there was no under garment to get in their way, and he was soon exposed to the expert ministrations of his son. Nicholas lowered his head, licking his lips before taking LaCroix into his mouth, sliding down his shaft until it was bobbing up against the back of his throat. LaCroix choked on a cry as Nick started to apply a soft pressure, swallowing and sucking in a well-known rhythm that drove LaCroix crazy. The elder shifted up, supporting himself on his elbows, desperately wanting to behold the sight of his beloved child's blond head rising and falling at his groin. That alone was almost enough to send him over, but Nick stopped just as LaCroix felt his own self-control slipping away from him. He moaned as Nick left him, wondering for a moment if this was some sort of revenge, if his son would simply walk away now, leave him in this state, exposed and vulnerable. It was a state he had often left his son in.

But Nick seemed to sense this, and he performed a rare act of mental communication, sending a wave of reassurance down their link, smiling softly as he stood and started to unbutton his own shirt, shedding his waistcoat and jeans. LaCroix watched, awed, as he tried to thank whatever gods had intervened to bring this about this miraculous development. He watched his beautiful son came back to him now, and he sat up, holding Nick as he straddled LaCroix, one knee either side of him on the hard wooden desk top. LaCroix shifted, wrapped Nicholas in a tight embrace as their mouths came together again, and they kissed hard and deep.

For a time they simply tasted one another, drawing blood, reading scant thoughts that contained only surprise where LaCroix was concerned, stark possession in Nick's blood. It struck the elder, during their long kiss, that his son was jealous! For the past three days he had experienced his father's joys with another, and Nick was actually jealous. LaCroix forced back the mirth from his consciousness, fearing that pushing the simple truth back in his son's face now would end this magical interlude abruptly. If Nicholas wanted possession of his father, that was what he would get; it was not a price to be paid, but a gift LaCroix was all too willing to give.

When they separated, Nick pulled back slightly to regard his master. With a tenderness that did not seem to fit this particular encounter, he stroked his hand over LaCroix's head, teasing the close cropped hair. He brought his other hand up, running a sensual fingertip over his master's parted, reddened lips, watching as LaCroix sucked the digit inside his mouth. Nick smiled, and pushed another two fingers in after the first. A moment later, LaCroix realized his intentions, his lips curving into a slow grin. He started to wonder just how far Nick wanted to take the subject of possession. Curious to find out, as Nick slipped his wetted fingers from his father's mouth, LaCroix made a grab for his wrists, taking him in a firm, but not painful hold. To his surprise, Nick merely smiled and relaxed, seemingly happy for LaCroix to guide him. Was this what the young demon had been planning all along?

Nicholas bestowed a perfect, almost angelic smile on his father as he knelt up, allowing LaCroix to guide his hand back and down, separating out a single slick finger and holding the others into the fist he made. Nicholas' position was already opening him substantially, and his own finger slid easily into himself. He gasped, his eyes locking with LaCroix's as the other two prepared fingers were released and guided to join the first. Allowing his father to dictate his actions, Nick moaned as his own hand was used as a tool with which LaCroix was slowly fucking him. A forth finger slipped inside, this time not one of his own, and found his prostate with deliberate cruelty, rubbing back and forth over the sensitised gland.

LaCroix slipped slick fingers into his son, twisting them inside the hot channel, revelling in his child's cries for more, for a deeper penetration. As the older vampire added his own finger to the process, easily finding his goal, Nick let loose a feral yell - that pleasure point had been ignored for far too long - and drove himself down on the intruding digits. The only thing LaCroix was more aware of than the cries of his son, was the almost blinding waves of pleasure that were flooding through him each time Nick moved. Their cocks were being driven together and the friction caused was maddening. LaCroix's eyes roamed over Nick's sweating body, marvelling in the freedom given to the red-tinted form. He had not seen his son in this state of rapture for much too long, and now he knew it was a sight he was still able to behold, he hoped not to wait so long before it was bestowed upon him again.

"LaCroix...." His name on Nicholas' lips was urging him to something more, his son's eyes were burning pleas to end the foreplay. Roughly, musing on how he knew Nicholas' reacted to a little S&M, LaCroix pulled Nick's hand out and down, releasing it to cup his son's buttocks in his palms and squeeze tightly. Nicholas moaned, arching back, pressing himself into his master's grip.
"Gods, Nicholas..." LaCroix dared speak a few scant words. "You have always been the most beautifully sexual creature I have ever laid eyes upon."
"Then stop playing with me," Nick ground out with some difficulty.
"Indeed." LaCroix pulled Nick forward suddenly, momentarily trapping his own cock beneath his son. The sensations of Nicholas' body sliding over his erection forced an animal cry from LaCroix's throat; the sound bringing a base smile to Nick's face. LaCroix lifted and opened his son, meaning to be gentle in his lowering of the wanton body onto the shaft that so eagerly awaited it. But Nicholas had other ideas, and in a moment, he had impaled himself on LaCroix's straining cock. Twin cries of excruciating pain, mingled with exquisite pleasure filled the air, permeating into the lower sound waves of the club. The ears of the vampiric clientele suddenly perked up in interest.

Nick and LaCroix were both too far gone to care who was overhearing the joys of their joining. LaCroix had shifted them both back further on to the desk, wrapping his arms around Nick, bring his legs up slightly, letting Nicholas ride him at his own pace. Nick's own cock was trapped between them, its entire length being rubbed up and down every time he rose and fell. Sensations of being opened and filled, torn apart by each stroke of the bludgeoning cock within him, merged with the tightly trapped feel of his own erection, and the sense of being simultaneously gripped and pushed at that LaCroix was feeding to him through the link. Nick let himself drown in all that he was experiencing, allowing the very nature of what he was to overwhelm him, to take him beyond the point where he was anything human, and into the realms of the gift his father had given to him eight centuries ago. All he ever wanted and all he ever needed was here at this single point of total oblivion. His memories of this one possible moment had been forcibly buried over time, by LaCroix, by himself, by his own deep self-loathing and abject guilt. Now, he had found this moment once more and he grasped it, calling LaCroix's name over and over in a mantra of sudden revelation.

His senses honed to a fine point, Nick opened his eyes as he felt his climax approaching, and stared straight into the icy depths of his father's soul. He saw nothing but a desperate love and an overwhelming desire for him. Something he was not supposed to have seen, as LaCroix tore his gaze from his son's and titled his head, cupping Nicholas' own head in his palm, bringing his child's mouth to his neck as he pierced the pale throat. LaCroix bucked once, meeting Nick on a down-stroke and coming harder than he could remember coming in an eternity. He was starkly and suddenly aware of his son climaxing, the coolness of the liquid hitting his belly, the orgasm like wild fire in his blood.

They drank from each other while time melted around them, each unwilling to release the other; this was too rare an event, it had to be savoured. LaCroix tried to read what he was tasting in Nicholas, but his child's emotions were too mixed up to enable an easy translation. His own feelings though were clear, and he knew Nick could read them without even trying. If he so wanted.

Nicholas felt he was drowning in the love he tasted in his father's blood. Even now, after so much and so long, LaCroix still loved him with the strength of conviction he had carried centuries ago. Nick felt a tear leak from his eye but did nothing to wipe it away. He simply continued to drink, continued to let his father's blood pour into his veins as it had that first time, this time so intense that it was almost rebirth. LaCroix' strength invigorated him, his passion for life stoked the smouldering fire that had almost died in Nick.

As blood circled, LaCroix began to taste his son's return. This corrosion of his fiery spirit was finally over, the heavy burdens that it been crushing it were now being lifted. LaCroix's blood sang with joy.

Finally, LaCroix withdrew, collapsing back on the desk and attempting to pull Nicholas back with him, but his son would not budge. Sadly, the father began to accept that maybe all he had read in his son's blood had just been his own dreams being reflected back at him, and that in fact Nick would just leave. But his child did not seem to be making moves in that direction either. He stayed sitting where he was, his skin sticky with the results of their love-making, his manner now as defiant as it had been when he had first flung open the door of the office.
Finally, Nick got around to asking what he had come here to ask. "Who is he?"
LaCroix looked puzzled for a moment, his son's actions had blown thoughts of any other lover from his mind. "Who is who?"
"The man you have the past seventy-two hours with, the man who has caused me three sleepless days and three restless nights. Who is he?"
"Ah. Him." LaCroix looked away, remembering his realisation of Nicholas' jealousy. "His name is Philip, he's about your age. French originally, he still has an accent. I have to say that's what initially attracted me."
"Is he my replacement?"
LaCroix tried to trace whatever emotions he could from the link, but Nicholas had his barriers firmly back in place and there was no one inflection in his voice. LaCroix thought for a moment before answering. "No. He was more.. of a substitute. I was lonely, Nicholas; bored. It's not healthy to go without for so long. I did not realise how relaxed I had become." In a tone that betrayed none of the newly awakened feelings for his son, he stated, "I do apologise, it will not happen again." How could it, he thought ruefully, now that you, Nicholas, have just reminded me what luxuries I maybe could have had?

LaCroix could have sworn that a shadow of misery passed over his dear Nicholas' face at his words. But before he could seek to reassure, Nick asked quietly, "Do you love him?"
LaCroix's eyes widened at that, and then he smiled, almost chuckled. "No, I do not love him. How can I love anyone else, Nicholas when you know my heart belongs to you?" This simple admission left Nick stunned for a moment. "I shall stop seeing him if that will make you happy. Have you not worked by now that I would do anything for you?"
Nick swallowed hard, staring deep into his father's intense gaze. "I want you to stop seeing him." LaCroix nodded. "I want you to start seeing me."
There was a moment of disbelief so sheer that it passed through them both before LaCroix determinedly pulled his son down to him, almost crushing him against his sturdy frame. Nick wound his arms around his father's neck, hugging him tightly. "I love you, Nicholas. If you wish to resume our relationship, or... maybe it would be better if we started over?" Nick nodded against his sire's chest. "Then that is more than fine with me, mon fils."
"Good."

They lay together for a long while, each enjoying the new peace between them and within them. Finally Nick did rise, kissing his father lightly. "I do, I'm afraid, have to return to work. They've probably already sent out the search party."
LaCroix frowned, amused that he had been right about Nicholas' attire. "Where do they think you are?"
"Questioning an old man about his wayward son."
The elder smiled. "Well, you didn't lie to them completely."
"Maybe not, but I wouldn't relish telling them the truth, no matter how... immensely enjoyable it has been."

LaCroix propped himself up on one elbow as he watched Nick dress again, wondering if his son realized how much the scent of sex and blood was clinging to him. "Come back tonight?" he asked cautiously.
"Absolutely. I have to keep you occupied so that you don't return to Philip's arms, now don't I?" LaCroix smiled, but inwardly he knew telling Philip was not going to be the most wonderful of experiences... mind you, it was no contest. Nicholas was and had always been his, the only one, and it had only been a matter of time before he returned. LaCroix came back to himself to find his son's mouth barely touching his own.
"You keep believing that," Nick whispered roughly, "one day it just might turn out to be true." He kissed his father, this time more deeply, before leaving him lying naked atop of his desk. It was an image that Nick knew would easily get him through any awkward scenes that awaited him this night.

As he walked back through the bar, an infinitely more relaxed young vampire than he had been when he had arrived, his eyes settled on a dark-haired man standing near the entrance, obviously having just arrived. Nick could hear a little of his conversation with a girl standing close to him, and he could distinctly make out a pure French accent. He knew instinctively that this was Philip. Nick almost thought twice about having a little more fun before he went back to work. But this was too good an opportunity.... He knew the girl, a vampire less than five years old, one of LeCrane's children. Grinning, Nick bounced up to her and gave her an quick, affectionate squeeze. She jumped and turned, smiling openly when she saw who it was.
"Nicholah, what a lovely surprise." And doing exactly what Nick had expected her to, she turned to Philip. "Phileep, this is Nicholah, Lucien LaCroix's son." She had turned back to him now, and missed what Nick relished; the expression of wide-eyed horror that came over the young male vampire's face. Nick reached out his hand and Philip shook it hesitantly. Then he froze altogether when he breathed in the distinct scent that surrounded Nicholas. LaCroix was all over him, the elder's individual scent mingling with that of heated sex and bloody sweat. Nick smiled and pulled his hand back.
"Good to meet you, LaCroix told me a lot about you. In fact, I think he's looking forward to seeing you." Nick placed a quick kiss on the lips of the excited young girl and excused himself. He really did have to grab a quick shower before he went in to work, and he was not sure Nat would be overly appreciative of him dropping in to see her looking and smelling like he did.

*

As a clean and relaxed Nick Knight tooled his beloved Cadilac through the streets of Toronto, heading back to work, he switched on the radio to listen to the late night talk show he liked so much. Immediately the music faded, and a that so-familiar and loved voice spoke to him, using the city's airwaves as his own personal mobile phone.
"Tonight, gentle listeners, I want to talk about jealousy." Nick laughed openly. //subtle//
//indeed// "Jealousy can lead to such terrible things, can lead us to commit unspeakable acts from which we can never run. Yet, mon amies, it can also lead to the best sex that it is possible to experience."
Nick's eyes widened. //!//
LaCroix smiled in response. "So I urge you all, tonight, to go out and find the object of your deepest jealousies, and to let them know. Because in the end, it is only those people that can ever make us happy." He paused. "I am yours, mon fils. Eternally."

fin
elfin