Falling

'Falling' 2001 by Mom-Ra

A Nick and Vachon story

* * * * * * * *

Nick set his glass of blood wine on the coffee table and aimed the remote at the stereo. Determined to relax, he shut his eyes and stretched out on the sofa. He was dressed for bed, but he was too keyed up to sleep yet; the memory of a recent encounter with LaCroix kept plaguing him.

Not long after he thought he was rid of his abusive master, he began sensing a tantalizing invitation; a psychic call from one of his kind. Hoping to learn the identity of the vampire who'd been trying to draw him out, he had followed the vibration as it whispered to him of something just beyond the edge of memory. The trail had led him to an abandoned studio and LaCroix. Nick had been outraged, yet at a loss to understand his relief, when he discovered LaCroix hadn't been destroyed after all, but stood before him, seductive and taunting.

Nick remembered the wrenching he felt as he watched his master pick up a tiny plaster statue of a unicorn and plant a lingering kiss at the base of it's little horn. Abruptly, LaCroix had closed fist around it and crushed it to a powder. Nick tried to sort out the longing and confusion he felt as his memory replayed the scene; once again LaCroix's soft lips touched the smooth plaster.

In a great effort to distract himself, Nick concentrated on the music, a CD re-issue of Motown hits. Recalling that he had all of those songs and more on vinyl, he made a half-hearted plan to go into the storeroom and look for those LPs. Maybe. One of these nights. He thought he might have a turntable around there somewhere, among the accumulation of possessions from several lifetimes. Wondering aloud why he kept dragging all that junk around with him, he laughed suddenly, imagining what it would be like to have a garage sale.

He was about to go to the refrigerator for a refill, when he sensed Vachon in the hall. It pleased him that his friend was about to knock, instead of just appearing in his apartment, as he could have easily done. Vampires seldom bothered to use a door, unless mortals were around. Nick opened the door, and smiled at his visitor. Vachon leaned against the doorjamb and looked Nick up and down.

"Nice outfit. Expecting company?"

"No, I was getting ready for bed."

"You know what they say. Timing is everything." Vachon grinned. He strolled into the loft, with his hands tucked into the pockets of his motorcycle jacket, and said, "I was in the neighborhood, so ..."

Nick closed the door behind him. "You were in the warehouse district, so close to sunrise?"

Vachon looked down to hide a smile. "Okay, I came to see you."

He took in the artistically furnished living space and nodded toward the piano. "Nice place you've got here. Wow! what's this?" He picked up a wooden spike, nearly four feet long. It was intricately carved, tiny figures spiraled down its tapering length as he turned it.

"This is beautiful. And pointy."
Vachon set it down hastily. "Why do you keep a thing like that around?"

"It's my home security system." said Nick.

"If you ask me, that's just an invitation for somebody to stick you." Vachon looked closely at him. "You haven't been thinking about suicide, have you?"

"Well ..." Nick began.

"Well, what?"

"It's a sin."

A slow smile spread across Vachon's face. "So is fornication."

* * * * * * * *

Nick's bedroom was sparsely furnished, but not spare. A nightstand stood by the side of the large bed, opposite it was a matching bureau dresser and a full length mirror mounted in a frame. The furniture had an Asian influence, a shoji styled glass floor lamp glowed softly in the corner, and a three paneled dressing screen continued the Japanese-style decor. One of Nick's paintings hung above the bed. Several large pillows lay against the simple wrought-iron headboard. A black velvet bedspread was turned down against the silk sheets.

Vachon lit the thick, white tapers on the bureau. An ornate silver dagger lay next to the massive candleholders. He picked it up and turned it over, examining the filigree bound hilt. "This is incredible." he said, "It looks Moroccan. Where'd it come from?"

"Morocco." Nick's smile turned into a broad grin, "It was given me, a long time ago."

Vachon touched the blade to his lips, "You like to play with knives? Very kinky." He looked expectantly at Nick.

"No." he lied, "It's just for decoration."

With a shrug Vachon put the knife down and began to undress. He took his time, moving slowly, seductively; he enjoyed being watched. He stripped off his black tee-shirt, pleased that Nick was being such an attentive audiance. Nick thought Vachon was the most beautiful man he'd ever seen.
"Just now, you reminded me of one of those paintings of Saint Sebastian." he said softly.

"Do you mean the one where his arms are up, like this?" Vachon asked, raising his hands above his head, wrists together as if bound. He looked towards the ceiling, then back at Nick. "It's kind of erotic, you know?"

"I think so, too." Nick whispered and held out his hand, beckoning him closer.

Vachon walked over to the bed and Nick ran his finger slowly down his body, from the hollow of his throat to the first button on his jeans. Vachon shifted his weight slowly from one foot to the other, relishing the soft touch. Nick looked as if he was unsure of what to do next. Vachon brushed his fingers against his face.

"What's wrong, Nick? Haven't you ever done this before?"

Nick put an arm around his bare waist, drawing him closer.
"I haven't done this *lately*."

"Then, what? You seem like you're not really here."

Nick pressed his lips against the firm belly. "Vachon?" he began.

"Hmmm?" the other replied, dreamy, distracted.

"Do you ever wonder if we really are dammed?"

Vachon drew back sharply. "What kind of a question is that? What do I look like, a Sunday school teacher?" When he saw that Nick was beginning to withdraw from him, he teased, "How can you be talking about damnation at a time like this?"

"I guess thinking about martyred saints brought it to mind."

"You're actually worried about it, aren't you?" Vachon asked, sitting down beside him. "Isn't it about time you got over that Papist brainwashing?"

"You were raised Catholic."

"Yeah, but ... I'm in recovery. I'm the wrong guy to ask for spiritual guidance, believe me."

Nick looked so unhappy, Vachon wanted to comfort him. "You're a good person, Nick. You try to help people. I mean ... look at you, you're a cop, catching bad guys, serving, protecting."

Nick shook his head. "I'm a murderer."

Vachon corrected him, "You're a predator. Look, you're not going to beat yourself up over something that happened two hundred years ago, are you?"
An edge crept into his soft voice.

"I suppose you've never done anything you feel bad about?" Nick was getting a little edgy, too.

Vachon sighed and went over to the bureau. Staring into the candle flames, he said quietly, "Of course I have. I've done terrible things, Nick. Some of the worst stuff, I did while I was mortal. But I don't hang on to it."
He turned back toward Nick and tried a different approach. "You haven't killed anyone lately. You don't even drink human blood anymore."

"Have you killed anyone lately?" Nick asked, staring down at the floor.

"I've waxed a couple of bad guys, but I haven't lost any sleep over it. I don't kill to feed, if that's what you mean. I haven't done that for a very, very long time." Vachon sat back down and took Nick's hand.
"Maybe you should go to confession, or something."

Nick stared open-mouthed at him, then shook his head, "Vachon! I can't go to confession!"

"Why not? Who said you can't?" he shrugged, "Who knows? Maybe it'll make you feel better. I'll even go with you, if you want. For moral support."

"You'd do that?" Nick was astonished.

"Sure! It'd be fun."

Nick looked at him for a long time, before he realized he was being teased. Vachon smiled at him, then said quietly, "I think you need to forgive yourself, first, before you can be absolved."

"LaCroix has said something like that, too." Nick said, more to himself. Vachon sneered at the mention of the other vampire.

"You don't like him." Nick observed.

"He's not very likeable."

Nearly smiling, Nick said, "He does take a bit of getting used to."

Vachon couldn't resist another swipe at LaCroix. "I suppose, given enough time, a person could get used to just about anything."

Nick looked hard at him, "Knock it off, Vachon. I mean it."

Vachon gave him a puckish smile and climbed astride him, cajoling, "Don't be mad at me. I won't diss your papa any more. Okay? Nick? I'm sorry. Really."
He began to rekindle their cold fire, moving lasciviously against him.

"Mmmm ... querido. C'mere." he whispered, just touching Nick's mouth with his lips, then his tongue.

Vachon stood and unfastened his belt. Nick scattered kisses along the waistband of his jeans and together they began undoing the five-button fly. Vachon let the jeans fall to floor and stepped out of them, hooking his thumbs in the waistband of his cotton boxers. "Now you." he said, unbuttoning the pajama top, pushing it from Nick's shoulders. He tugged at the drawstring waist of the pajamas, but Nick gently took his hands away.

"Not yet."

"Ohhh ... you're shy. That's kind of sweet."

"No, I'm not. I just like the way the silk feels against my skin."

"Yeah, you're shy." Vachon grinned, "But I'm not." He yanked off his shorts and crawled on top of Nick, pinching and tickling him.

"You ... are ... shy." he laughed, "Admit it."

"Okay, okay." Nick gasped, "Yes! I'm shy! Now, stop tickling me!"

Vachon lay down beside him, smoothing his hands over Nick's arms and shoulders until he stopped flinching. "Shh ... relax, baby. I won't tickle you any more. Well ... not tonight, anyway."

Nick accepted his promise and rubbed his cheek against Vachon's, he liked the unaccustomed feeling of razor stubble against his skin.

He nuzzled his shoulder and started a trail of slow kisses along his neck to his face. He drew Vachon's lower lip into his mouth, then slid his tongue in between his teeth. Vachon swirled his own tongue around it and felt Nick's fangs lengthening against his. The first ache of transformation brought on the heat of rut, and Vachon began to grind nice and slow against him. He slid his bare leg between Nick's silk clad ones and pressed his fangs into the wet tongue rolling in his mouth. Before the tang of blood overwhelmed him, Vachon lifted his mouth from Nick's and began exploring his muscular body, moving his hands down Nick's belly to stroke him through the thin silk pajamas.
"Oooh ... is that for me?" he whispered, licking Nick's ear. "Let me have a look."
He untied the drawstring to loosen the waistband of Nick's pajamas and took them down.
"Que lindo." he murmured, barely grazing his lips through the soft golden fur on Nick's legs as he teased his way up to the inside of his thigh. Vachon was the master of suspense; his mouth and fingers came ever nearer to Nick's body only to move away just before touching it.

Nick pressed his hand to the back of Vachon's head, wordlessly urging him to get on with it, even though he was thoroughly enjoying the tease. His impatience was immediately rewarded. A wet caress from Vachon's tongue made him gasp and arch his back; he grabbed onto the headboard and held very still while Vachon licked him up, down and all around. When Vachon finally took him into his mouth, Nick reached down and gently grabbed his soft, thick hair, and raised his hips. He pressed his fingers against the back of Vachon's head, obliging him to remain still while he moved under him, sliding in, then nearly out of his mouth.

There was something more than appreciation of Vachon's considerable skill in the way Nick clung to him; Vachon sensed from him a desperation, a terrible need to be loved, and his heart began to melt. In an eyeblink, he went from giving head to his cute, new fuck-buddy, to making love with him. But, falling in love was not Vachon's usual style. He decided not to say anything to Nick just yet, he needed some time to sort out why this man was having such an effect on him. Attuned to every nuance of Nick's reactions, he poured his very soul into pleasuring him.

Nick's long, steady thrusts grew quick and erratic, until he was stabbing into the back of Vachon's throat. Smoke and spice burned Vachon's mouth as pre-seminal fluid began to seep from the thick shaft. He let the liquor pool onto his tounge, to mix with his saliva, before he gulped it down, then placed his hands on Nick's thighs, bore down, and using his weight to restrain him somewhat, resumed the slow, easy motions he'd started with. Nick, however, was too far gone; he was about to come no matter what Vachon did to him. Reluctantly, Vachon left off, and Nick groaned with disappointment.

"Please, Vachon ... don't stop."

"What's your hurry?" Vachon asked. He smiled warmly at Nick as he moved to lie next to him. "Let's kiss and snuggle for awhile."

He brought his mouth close to Nick's, but instead of the soft kiss Vachon was anticipating, Nick drove against him furiously. Several minutes went by before Vachon could soothe him down. When Nick was finally calm enough to snuggle, Vachon tucked his head under Nick's chin, and closed his fingers around his cock, drawing his hand slowly up and down it's length. Nick covered Vachon's hand with one of his, sighing, "That feels so nice."

"Say that again, in French." Vachon begged.

"Ce se sent si gentil." Nick said, reaching for him, sliding his palm over the slick head of Vachon's cock.

"Mmmm ...say something else."

"Mon gar�on Gitan, tu es tr�s beau."

"Why do you say that?" Vachon murmured, thrusting slowly into Nick's hand.

"Because you are. So beautiful. My beautiful Gypsy boy."

"Half Gypsy." Vachon smiled at him, "On my mother's side."

Nick bit his thumb just hard enough to break the skin and slipped it into Vachon's mouth, then out, rising with a slow twist before plunging back in. Vachon sucked gently to keep blood flowing, fanning the hunger in Nick to a bright, hot point, until he became distraught from the intensity of his craving.
"Please ... I'm so hungry." Nick whispered, winding his hands in Vachon's shadowy hair, trying to expose his throat.

"You can wait a little longer, querido." Vachon teased, putting a finger up to Nick's mouth, "I came over here to find out just what kind of a mean, nasty cocksucker you really are."
Nick gave the finger in his mouth a sharp little nip and suckled it, taking just enough blood to calm himself, while keeping the tension of bloodlust hot and tight.

"Okay." Vachon said, with an evil grin, "That's enough practice." Covering Nick's mouth with a fierce kiss, he could taste his own blood on Nick's tongue, a preview of their consummation. He scooted around so that they were laying head to foot; Nick was taller, but Vachon was long-waisted, so they fitted together quite comfortably.

Nick's mind jumped to the last time someone had held him like this, but he pushed away the phantoms of self-pity and gave Vachon's pleasuring his undivided attention. The world shrank to the velvet mouth sliding up and down on him and the slender body in his arms. Nick willed his fangs back and covered his teeth with his lips, then proceeded to show Vachon just how mean and nasty he could be. The vampires began to meld, the intimacy quickening their hunger to it's zenith.

Nick wanted to feel Vachon come in his mouth; he could just taste the bloody ejaculate that was mounting under the hard flesh, but the urge to bite was becoming irresistible. He pulled Vachon to his chest, and bared his fangs. Vachon growled softly, and drew his lips back to show his own fangs. They struck simultaneously, and flowed together into a long, lovely, shuddering deluge. As soon as Nick tasted himself in Vachon's blood, golden-red stars bloomed and exploded across his vision. He wanted to pull back, but Vachon's release swept through him. No longer able to resist the demands of his tense body, Nick shoved his fangs deeper into the trembling throat at his mouth.

* * * * * * * *

The moment the sun had set, Nick aimed the remote at the mechanized blinds. He held his breath as they slid noiselessly on their tracks, until he felt the tingle of moonlight on his skin. It was the beginning of his nightly routine; getting ready for work while drinking his breakfast of cow's blood, gathering up his watch, badge folder, keys and such.

He heard Vachon call down, "Do you see my shoes anywhere?"

Nick glanced around. "Yeah, over here by the sofa."

Vachon vaulted over the railing and seemed to reappear on the sofa, tying his shoes.
"You," he said sternly, "are the worst blanket-stealing, bed-hogging-"

"Sorry." Nick said, "I guess I'm just used to sleeping alone."

Vachon looked doubtfully at him, "I can't believe you have trouble getting dates."
Nick shrugged, and offered his guest some breakfast.

"In a coffee cup. How cute." Vachon rolled his eyes. "I hope this is de-calf."

Nick cuffed the back of his head playfully, and Vachon made a face at him. After tasting his breakfast, he nodded toward the silver motorcycle, sitting on a tarp in the far corner of the loft.
"So, Nick." he asked, "When are you going to give me a ride on your bike?"

Nick consulted his watch. "We could go right now, if you'd like."

Vachon shook his head. "Sorry, can't tonight. I've got a bunch of stuff to do. Maybe another time?"

Before Nick could answer, they both looked toward the door, sensing a mortal in the elevator.

"You're about to have a visitor." Vachon considered for a moment, the scent was familiar. "The beautiful and talented Dr. Lambert?"

Nick slid the heavy the door open for her, then stood back to let her in. "Hello, Nat!" he said happily, and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek.

Natalie exchanged friendly greetings with Vachon.
"Hey, you're out and about early. What brings you down here?"

"Me? Oh, I just came over to get laid." Vachon turned to Nick, his voice low and throaty. "Thanks for the ride."

Nick looked as if he couldn't believe what he'd just heard.
"Sure ... anytime."

Vachon wiggled his fingers at Natalie as he left. "See ya later."

Natalie seemed irritated. "Is there anything you'd like to tell me?"

Nick took another pull from his cup, avoiding her glance.
"No, not really."

"Was he serious? Are you and Vachon-?" She stopped her inquiry at a dark look from Nick, and then said quickly, "I, um ...I didn't know you liked boys."

"Vachon is not a boy." Nick said evenly, "He's reached the age of consent."

"I don't think you should be involved with him." Natalie began, but her voice dried up under Nick's inky blue stare. She drew a breath and tried again. "I'm speaking as your doctor, now. It's not healthy, Nick. Emotionally, I mean. It's just that, this ... relationship-"

"Relationship." he mimicked, "You say it like it's a dirty word."

They glared at each other, then Nick said, "Tell me something. Are you objecting because Vachon is a vampire, or is your issue with gender?"

Natalie looked away before she spoke. "Being intimate with another ... vampire might keep you from coming over. It could be another setback."

Nick was growing steadily more annoyed with her.
"Setback? That's a hell of a thing to say. Don't you think intimacy with a mortal might be unhealthy, too? For the mortal, I mean."
He sighed heavily, "Sorry, Nat. Just don't get on my case about this, okay?"

"Okay." she forced a smile, "I guess your road to mortality doesn't mean you have to be celibate."

Nick was acerbic, "Thank you very much, Dr. Lambert."

He could tell Natalie was about to start flirting with him, and he hated it when she did that; teasing him, rousing his bloodlust, then getting in his face about it. He knew she would try to make him feel as if his vapmiric nature was something he was just too lazy or weak-willed to control.

Natalie laid a hand on his arm and slowly raised her eyes to his. "Are you sure an intimate relationship between a vampire and a mortal would be unhealthy?"

Nick clenched his teeth and stepped away. "Nat ... don't."

"Vachon and Tracy don't seem to have any problems."

"You don't know anything about it!" he shouted. He had to make her understand, he had to make her stop toying with him. Taking a deep breath, he willed his true nature to emerge, then turned on her, eyes gleaming, the tips of his fangs showing.

He moved so fast, it seemed to Natalie as if he had vanished, then reappeared behind her. He grabbed her head, and pressed his thumbs under her jaw.
"You want to know?" he snarled, "Want me to show you?"
Her heartbeat filled his mind, he'd forgotten about frightening her off; all he could think of was how much he wanted to penetrate her warm, creamy throat.

Nick could smell her blood; he could taste her fear, goading him on. He crushed her against his chest with one arm and ran his other hand roughly over her body, clutching at her blouse, pulling it away from her throat and shoulders. His strength was horrifying. Natalie grabbed onto his arms, trying to pull his hands off of her. She almost gagged when he licked the side of her neck with his cold, wet tongue.
"Nick?" she called in a shaky voice, then screamed, "Nick! Listen to me! You really do not want to do this!"
Somehow, the part of Nick that cared deeply for her, the part of him that abhorred killing, managed to surface just enough to let him release the terrified woman and get as far away from her as possible.

Breathing in ragged gasps, Natalie looked up at Nick, where he crouched on the mezzanine, grasping the metal railing. As the fear drained from her, she realized she was slippery ... aching and empty. She backed away, feeling behind her for the door, and ran for her life.

Nick stayed upstairs until he heard Natalie start her car and drive off. Then he went to the refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of cold blood. Uncorking it with his teeth, he drank it down, swallowing in staggering draughts, not caring that a good deal of it was spilling down his chin, dripping onto the floor.