Subj:    DKFIC - Storm Front 1/1
Date:    97-02-11 22:25:17 EST
This is a little musing I came up with while watching my students do book work and letting my mind wander a bit too much. Rather explicit (though I hope artful). BTW, if anyone is interested in a longer work with this new character (or maybe using her in a round robin or tag team) let me know!

Storm Front - 1/1
Amber Murray

It was going to be one hell of a storm. Nick sat at the upper window, staring moodily out at the weather. He could feel the electricity in the air, smell the snap of ozone that followed each jag of lightning. It made his skin tingle with suppressed excitement, made him shift restlessly in place.
The rumble of the lift caused him to lift his head in confusion.
<Who the hell is that?> he asked himself crossly. Only a select few had his alarm code, and none of them had reason to visit unannounced. Even Natalie didn't do that anymore.
The door opened, and a tall figure stepped into the loft, shedding rivulets of water from its voluminous black cloak. Droplets patterned the floor as the hood was thrown back to reveal a riot of thick burgundy curls.
"Morgaine," he breathed. He dropped to the floor, keeping his pace even as he walked towards her.
Morgaine favored Nicholas with a secretive smile as, with a dramatic flourish, she divested herself of the cloak. A young vampire of only two centuries, she had been made in the full blush of her beauty. Heavy wine-colored curls brushed the tops of long thighs, her flawless skin make luminescent by her vampiric nature. Large hazel-green eyes shifted with her somewhat mercurial moods, swinging from emerald in laughter to near black with passion - that is, before the tell-tale amber light flared in their depths. Brows like dark wings arched gracefully over those fascinating eyes, and full, cupid's bow lips curled in welcome.
"Aren't you going to offer to take my cloak, Nicholas?" she purred, and her voice brushed against him, velvet and silk.
With a bow to excuse his lack of hospitality, Nick gallantly accepted her cloak, draping it over the piano bench.
"What brings you here, on a night like this?" he wondered aloud.
Morgaine shrugged elegantly, walking past him, heading for the window. "Loneliness. Boredom." She reached the window and turned, her lush body framed by the ever-changing pattern of rain on the window. "I wanted someone to share the storm with."
"Why me?"
She looked at him in surprise. "Why *not* you?" When he did not reply, she turned her face back to the window. He leaned on the piano, studying her. He allowed himself the luxury of a long, head-to-toe appraisal, and she permitted it, turning into his gaze to give him a better vantage. "If you don't want me here, I can go," she offered gently.
Nick shook his head suddenly, engrossed in the play of lightning over her face. <God but she's beautiful>, he thought. He crossed the floor slowly, bare feet making no sound, until he stood before her. The smell of the fire, combined with the sharpness of the storm and her patchouli fragrance, made him light-headed.
"I don't want you to leave," he murmured, fingers tracing the planes of her face. His thumbs stroked the full redness of her bottom lip, the pink tip of her tongue darting out to touch his finger. She was rewarded by his sharp intake of breath, and she smiled.
"I'm glad," she whispered in the split-second before his mouth claimed hers.
He tasted salt in her kiss, the faint warmth of her mouth testifying to a recent feeding. She swayed closer, pressing her body tight to his. Nick gathered handfuls of her hair, holding her his willing captive while he ravaged her mouth with kisses, tongue tasting, touching, exploring. She returned the favor, flirting with his descending fangs. In a gesture she knew would drive him mad, she deliberately sliced her tongue on the tip of one canine, letting her blood drip into his mouth.
A growl erupted from his chest, echoed a second later by a crack of thunder. Had Morgaine been mortal, the strength of Nick's arms as he crushed her to him would have broken her bones, crushed her organs. Instead, she laughed, a rippling sound that poured over him like rain down the window-glass. He smiled, feeling the silk of her hair cascade over his eager hands as he ran lips and tongue over her neck and chest as far as the V of her dress would allow.
"I hope you're not too fond of this," he growled, and before she could answer he placed both hands at the neckline and pulled. The fabric parted without protest, and she stood before him, bare but for the delicate silk thigh-high stockings and pumps.
"No fair, Nick," she complained breathlessly, working at his belt, and his hands flew to her aid. His shirt floated to the floor, trousers and briefs pushed off in one sweeping motion. A step forward and she was pressed to him again, bare skin on bare skin so delicious she though she might not stand it.
Tapered nails dug into the skin of his buttocks as she undulated against him, silky belly rubbing against his hardness. In retribution, he cupped cool hands over the fullness of her breasts, hard-edged thumbs teasing her nipples until she wriggled and moaned. One swift motion and she was swept off her feet, carried with swift steps to the hearth rug. Her shoes and stockings were quickly discarded. The flames lent her ivory skin a blush that was utterly entrancing.
Eager hands reached for his hardness as long legs parted to receive it. Morgaine stared up at him with golden eyes.
"The second time is for the slow dance, my love," she breathed, and Nick sank gladly into her body, hands cupped beneath her buttocks to raise her hips like a sheath to the sword. Morgaine cried out harshly, her head thrown back in surrender. A spike of lightning flashed outside the window, throwing a blue light over her exposed throat. With a feral howl, Nick buried his fangs in the offered flesh.
A tremendous shudder passed through Nick's body as her blood poured over his tongue. The passion that filled her almost burned him, so hot did it run. His moans mingled with the moist sound of his sucking and swallowing.
Morgaine's strong inner muscles began to clench spasmodically around him, her body to strain closer still with each stroke. Never separating their bodies, Nicholas pulled them both upright, Morgaine's buttocks resting on the muscled planes of his thighs. Still moving smoothly, powerfully, he fixed passion-glazed eyes on her face. Her lips were parted, fangs glinting at the corners of her mouth Amber eyes were half-lidded as conscious thought was suspended.
Nick felt his muscles ache with the burden of restraint, and he slid a hand up her slender back to cup the back of her head. Lips curled in a smile, Nick brought Morgaine's mouth to the vein in his neck. His breath caught in his chest as her fangs pierced his skin, and he felt his essence flowing into her.
"Yes, my lady, yes," he groaned, swaying in his ecstasy. Her movements on him became faster, more frantic, the pulling at his neck a pleasure so keen it was almost pain. As shudders began to wrack her body, his own began its answering spasms. He sank his teeth again into her neck as together they rode wave after wave until they were cast, gasping and spent, to shore once more.
Slowly, oh so slowly, the light that had burst upon them waned and died, leaving in its wake only the sounds of the slackening rain and their breathing.
Nicholas slid from the haven of Morgaine's body, grabbing a throw pillow from the couch for his head. Stretched full-length on the carpet, he pulled Morgaine against him. Her hair spread like a cloak about them, sticking in places to damp flesh. Satisfaction thrummed through every fiber of his being, and he toyed idly with a strand of auburn hair.
"I think the storm front has passed," Nick whispered gently. Morgaine raised her eyes to his, irises almost black with passion barely slaked.
"Oh, no, Nicholas. The storm is yet to come."