If We Kissed

Notes and Warnings

The story ´If We Kissed´ is Rated NC-17 for explicit sex. If it's illegal for you, or if you find it personally distasteful, to read something rated NC-17, then head over here and look through the thousands of stories for some Forever Knight fanfic more suited to a PG-13ish audience.

This story contains scenes of explicit male/male sex. Not to mention (please notice the date and forgive me my past sins) slightly romantic utterings of the sappy variety, also between two male vampires. If the thought of any of this squicks you, or if you're a minor, then please don't read it.

These characters are owned by Tristar and Jim Parriot. Song Lyrics are from 'What Would Happen' by Meredith Brooks. No money is being made, no disrespect intended.

Thanks and cash to my beta-readers supreme: Leslie, Terry and The Grammar Queen *wave to Laurey*. Thanks to April, as well, and everyone on the UF loop for being just all-around swell.

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

And he played.

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

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

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

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

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

Electricity
Eye to eye
Hey, do I know you?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"And?" LaCroix prompted him on.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I remember several people--"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Precisely. It is the only explanation."

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

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

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

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

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

Nick frowned, confused.

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

Nicholas shook his head. "No."

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

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End Chapter 1 of 3

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