Another one of the great mass of unfinished stories finally completed. The men belong to TPTB and the women belong to me, amongst others.

Rated PG-13 for sexual situations and vampire activity <g>


All Work and No Play….

by Ithildin

c. 1998


The three men sat in LaCroix's study, the stone room looking like something from the Dark Ages. Stone walls, ornamented by weapons both ancient and modern and heavy tapestries. A fire roared in the large hearth. The men, in various states of drunkenness, sprawled in large, overstuffed furniture in front of it.

It had been almost twenty-four hours since the sounds of war had stopped, the battle having moved on to places too distant for the inhabitants of the Keep to hear. The men, to whom war was more the norm than the exception, were taking full advantage of the lull, having learned from many battles to take your rest where you can.

Methos eyed his empty brandy bottle unhappily, not quite sure how it had gotten that way so quickly. He noticed that LaCroix seemed to be having the same problem with empty bottles. He looked around the room, not seeing any bottles that weren't drained.

"There's no more!" he exclaimed, a rather bewildered expression on his face.

LaCroix scowled at him. "Of course there is more. Just not here." He waved a hand towards the door. "You'll have to go down to the cellar for more."

"Me?" Methos glared at the vampire. "What about the two of you?"

The third man, who had been silent till now, looked over at Methos with a smug look on his face. "I'm a guest here. How would I know where you stash the liquor?"

Methos snorted. "A MacLeod who doesn't know where the scotch is stashed? Give me a break!"

Connor MacLeod feigned shocked innocence. "I'm offended!"

Methos just shook his head in disgust.

LaCroix drained his glass. "Actually, I'd prefer something…fresher," he said, a hungry look in his eye.

"I bet you would," Methos muttered. "Hey!" he suddenly exclaimed, reminded. "Where have the women gotten themselves to anyway?"

"Now who's looking for something fresher?" LaCroix asked mockingly.

Methos ignored him. "Maybe I could get both drink and diversion in one trip, " he said thoughtfully, his eyes brightening at the idea.

"I wouldn't let them hear you calling them diversions, and in the same breath as more to drink!" Connor told the older Immortal. "They're armed and *they* aren't drunk!"

"We aren't drunk!" LaCroix and Methos protested in unison.

They looked at each other. "We're merely…at ease," LaCroix pronounced loftily.

"Yes, that's it; at ease," Methos agreed.

"Whatever you say," Connor humored them. "I do know that Lauren and Terese have the early watch, and they went to bed hours ago.

"That leaves three unaccounted for," LaCroix mused.

"And I know where they'll be: In the tower conference room, listening to radio reports," Methos said, slightly exasperated. "Triona and her Puritan work ethic -- dragging the others down with her."

"Well, at least you can say that the only thing Puritan about them *is* work," LaCroix said, leering slightly. The two Immortals became distracted at the thought. LaCroix, continuing, got their attention back. "I think it's time we found our missing women and give them a little history lesson. After all, there is much to be said for history."

"Any particular part of history, Lucien?" Methos asked, his eyes glinting in amusement.

"Oh, there are many illuminating periods. I'm sure we can explore several."

"I like the way you think, LaCroix!" Connor said enthusiastically. "Shall we go get them?"

"No, not directly. This requires a delicate touch." The vampire pulled the call bell. "We'll have them come to us."

Soon, a knock was heard and a servant entered the room. "You called, sir?"

"Yes, " LaCroix answered, "I need you to fetch Miss Sarah, Triona and Stephanie. You'll find them in the tower room. Tell them I require their presence in my study to discuss matters of some urgency."

The servant looked doubtful, but nodded. He had no intention of questioning the master of the house. "Right away, sir."

"Some urgency?" Connor asked in disbelief, as the servant left.

"Urgent to us, no?" LaCroix arched one brow in question.

Connor shook his head as Methos laughed. "I must be drunker than I thought for going along with this!"

"Oh, come now, Connor! Where's your sense of adventure?" asked Methos.

"My sense of adventure is just fine thank you! It's my sense of self- preservation I seem to have lost!" he exclaimed. "They're going to kill us!"

"They can try," LaCroix answered with relish.

                               *********************

After the servant had closed the door, reassured that the women would heed his message, Triona leaned back in her chair tiredly. "I'm in no mood for 'urgent matters'," she grumbled.

Stephanie and Sarah nodded in agreement.

"All I'm in the mood for is more wine!" Sarah declared.

"Hear, hear!" Stephanie agreed, raising her glass.

The women had spent the evening listening to radio reports on the short-wave set. After hours of depressing news, they had decided to turn it off early for once. They had also decided that a few drinks would not be amiss, maybe even helping them to forget the war for a little while. A few drinks had turned into a few bottles, and none of them felt like moving -- or thinking of anything urgent and most likely depressing.

They sat in silence for a few more minutes. Triona suddenly slammed the table with her hand, making the other two jump in surprise.

"Damn it, I have to go see what's so urgent! I can't not know," she sighed, pushing herself away from the table and to her feet.

Sarah and Stephanie looked at each other. "We'll come with you," Sarah said.

"Yeah, we can find some more wine on the way," Stephanie added.

"That's the sprit, Steph!" Triona said approvingly as the three made their way out of the room and down the stairs.

"I always knew you had your priorities straight," Sarah agreed.
 

                             ********************
 

Another servant had seen to replenishing the supply of refreshments in the study. The men were making good progress on the new stock when the three women arrived.

They took in the scene before them with interest that quickly turned to irritation.

"Oh, yes. I can see this is very urgent," Triona said sarcastically, picking up an empty brandy bottle and looking at LaCroix.

All three women crossed their arms and glared at the men. If looks could kill, they would be quite dead.

LaCroix, totally unrepentant, replied, "Your mental health is quite urgent to us, my dear."

"Oh please! Mental health my ass!" Stephanie said in disgust, scowling at her Master.

"Temper, temper, Stephanie," he chided.

"Are you in on this too, Connor?" Sarah asked.

"I swear, Sarah, I was pulled in against my will!" She looked at him in disbelief. "I was! I had no chance against two such ancient beings! They made me!"

She snorted. "Oh, I'm sure they twisted your arm!"

"You don't believe me?" The Scottish Immortal looked all hurt innocence.

"Not for a New York minute!"

"Smart girl." Methos grinned impudently.

"You, shut up!" Triona snapped.

"Hey!" he grumped. "This is the thanks we get for worrying about you? I think a little gratitude is in order here! Methos had moved closer as he spoke, running one finger down her cheek as he continued, "All work and no play...." he trailed off, lowering his lips to hers.

Against her will, her mind clouded by the wine she had drunk, Triona found herself responding to his kiss. She could taste the brandy as his tongue eased past her lips, to delve into her mouth. His hands moved up to cup her breasts, kneading them. She moaned into his mouth as he deepened the kiss. Suddenly, flustered, she pulled away -- she hadn't drunk enough to forget there were four other people in the room.

More than a little embarrassed at their public display, she looked up to see a very satisfied expression on his face. She punched him lightly on the chest. "What am I going to do with you?" she asked, exasperation mixed with tenderness.

"Oh, I could think of several things," he answered in a low, sexy voice. "But for now...." He took her hand, leading her to the sofa. "I'd settle for you sitting with me and having a drink."

Triona relented, allowing herself to be pulled down on the sofa next to him. She surveyed the room, seeing that she wasn't the only one to give in. Quieting her mind, she realized the room was charged with sexual tension. With a start, she realized her response to Methos' kiss had surged into her link with LaCroix and hence to Stephanie and Sarah. The alcohol they had consumed seemed to have not only lowered inhibitions, but mental shields as well. And the feedback was continuing, she could feel it all around her. Even Connor, who had no link, wasn't immune. <You would have to be dead not to feel it,> she thought.
 
 

"All Work and No Play…." - Part Two

LaCroix watched the unfolding scene with keen interest. This was an unforeseen bent in Triona's mental abilities. She seemed to be acting as a catalyst for the sexual energy throbbing between them. Utterly fascinating and positively delectable. So many…possibilities.

He closed his eyes, almost breathing in the currents and eddies of passion that swirled around the room like so much mist. A nip to his jaw drew him sharply back to his surroundings.  He looked down to see Stephanie looking at him, jaw set.

"Pay attention!" she demanded. "What's so interesting?"

"Surely even you can feel it, my dear?"

Stephanie looked mutinous. She hated it when he expected her to *feel*. Even after all these years, she tried to use the link she had with her family sparingly. But even she could feel it, seeping through all the shields she had erected.

She nipped LaCroix's jaw again, trying to distract him. "I'd rather feel this...." she murmured, running her hands up his arms.

"Ahhhh, where is your sense of daring? Imagine what the blood of the others will taste like -- feel like --  tonight?"

Stephanie stiffened. What in the hell was he suggesting? Some sort of orgy?

"Nothing quite so lewd," he whispered, the smirk obvious in his tone.

She was startled, realizing how she was being drawn into whatever was happening as LaCroix responded to her unspoken thought.

He ran his hands through her hair. "Merely a chance to experience the sensation of Immortal blood, laden with the emotion of the night." His whisper slid across Stephanie's senses like cool silk, drawing her into the dark labyrinth of his will.

What Sarah was feeling through her bond with her family was like nothing she had ever felt before. It was like being surrounded by warm water; around her, in her, touching every part of her body and soul.

She drew Connor closer to her, kissing her way up his throat to his mouth. His arms tightening around her as she deepened the kiss. Sarah sighed to herself; as much as she loved being with Connor, she hated the lack of mental closeness. How she wished she could share some of what she was feeling mentally as well as physically.

"Do you truly wish it?" a voice, a whisper, fluttered past her thoughts.

Sarah stiffened, not sure if she had really *heard*.

"Do you?" the voice fell softly in her mind.

"Yes," her thoughts whispered back. "Even if only for a moment."

The voice became a feeling, touching her with reassurance, with the knowledge that all would be as she wished and desired.

She opened her eyes slowly, not surprised to find LaCroix's gold tinged ones looking back at her. Stephanie leaned against him, eyes closed, breathing deep, her hand clutched tight against his arm.

Sarah caught her breath as Connor's hands slipped under her shirt to caress her bare skin. She found herself trapped in LaCroix's avid gaze, knowing that he felt what she felt -- and finding she didn't care. She closed her eyes as Connor's hands reached her breasts, stroking and rubbing. The last barrier dropped, and she could feel all her family with her, around her.

Methos and Triona, their presence in her mind linked together like a Celtic knot. Stephanie and LaCroix, like the ocean foam skittering over the cliffs after the waves had receded. She could even feel the sleeping thoughts of Terese and Lauren, comforting her with their familiar essences.

Lowering her head to Connor's now bare chest, she ran her lips over its hard, muscled expanse. She could feel Stephanie extend a mental hold over him, steadied by LaCroix.

Connor's hands continued to move over Sarah's willing body. That, combined with the vortex of intense emotion saturating the room, pushed her to the edge. LaCroix's fingers brushing her throat from behind, then his fangs piercing her skin pushed her over.

As the ancient vampire drank from her, she felt a new presence. She embraced Connor with a cloak of light and warmth as their spirits intertwined, aided by the two vampires. She felt his bemusement, his love and the searing passion that was being awakened by both her touch and Stephanie feeding from him. He clutched her tightly to him as the vortex spun tighter. She could barely separate the personalities that swirled in it -- she wasn't even sure where she began or ended.

There was a brilliant flash, and Sarah let the shockwaves take her as wave after wave of pleasure enveloped them. She felt Connor's spirit begin to drift away as unconsciousness grasped him. She felt herself drifting away as well, but held on, wanting to see him to his sleep. One last brush of their minds, and he was gone. She didn't fight it any longer, letting LaCroix ease her into sleep.

The ancient vampire turned his attention to Stephanie. She was nearly sated from the physical and emotional feeding that she had just taken part in. Young, and unused to handling the potent currents that coursed through the room, she was near her limit. He, on the other hand, only found his appetite whetted.

He pulled her to him, covering her mouth with his, savoring the lingering taste of Connor's blood on her lips. Her arms linked around his strong neck, losing herself in his hungry kiss.

She hissed as his fangs pierced her lower lip releasing her cool blood to his questing tongue. LaCroix lapped up the precious flow as it pooled between her lips. Her breath came hard as his long fingers slowly pushed her blouse off her shoulders, the tips of his fingers brushing across her flesh as gently as a spring breeze.

Growling, he moved to her throat and for once, she didn't fight. She was caught in the mood of the moment, flowing with it, not against it. Burying his fangs in her throat, LaCroix drank deep. Her blood, Connor's blood, Sarah's essence, the ever deepening link that drew more and more into its wake.

The young vampire shuddered as the full power of her Master's will, combined with the powerful link he manipulated so masterfully, slammed into her. He continued to draw her blood, reveling in its depth and exquisite spice. Finally, she fell limp in his arms as he drained her almost to the brink. Only then did he stop, laying her gently down. Biting into his wrist, LaCroix placed it to Stephanie's lips, letting her drink.

Pulling his wrist away, he brushed the hair from her face. "Did I not say this night would taste like nothing you had ever experienced?" his voice said, soft in the dimness. "Now sleep, child -- and dream beautiful dreams.

She only sighed softly as his cool hand brushed her brow into the darkness of sleep.

                                *******

LaCroix considered Methos and Triona. They had moved from the sofa to a sheltered alcove to the rear of the room. So involved with each other they never physically noticed his presence. But mentally, Triona welcomed him, drawing him even closer to her.

There had been…moments, the three of them had shared in times past. Rare, but always extraordinary in their fervor. But somehow, the intensity of this night's passion had a flavor heretofore untasted by the ancient vampire.  And LaCroix was a connoisseur of new sensations and unique experiences.

At this moment in time, he was so close to her they were almost one. It was the pinnacle of what a vampire could hope to experience, whether with a fledgling or prey. Triona was in a sense both. Unusual, singular; perhaps that was what made this *binding* possible.

Standing behind her, he drew her hair away, exposing her neck and shoulder.  As Methos kissed her, LaCroix bit just under her shoulder blade. She arched away from the pain, hard against the other man's body. Methos took advantage of her suddenly pressing even more urgently against him, taking her hips in an unbreakable grip and grinding himself against her.

Caught between LaCroix's fangs and mouth at her back, and Methos'  pelvis and chest pressed against hers, his lips devouring her, all she could do was react to the feelings that blazed over her. The coolness of LaCroix, the heat of Methos. Fangs grazed a trail up over her shoulder to her throat. A light nip, but not deep, his lips sucking at the small wound, making her tremble in the dual hold of the men. Then another spot, fangs sinking in deeper this time, drinking deep.

She clutched at Methos' shoulders, as always, even after so many years, losing herself in the blood bond. Only one thing was missing: she so much wanted for Methos to be able to share this with her. Oh, he had experienced their own bond when she had fed from him those times when the vampire in her roared to the forefront, ripped loose by the power of a quickening. But he had never felt what she did with Lucien; never felt what bound her to her Master so irrevocably. It was a sadness that she usually kept hidden deep down, but in tonight's fey atmosphere, the thought was right there, open to LaCroix's questing mental touch.

<So.> LaCroix was surprised she had managed to keep her secret from him all these years. Perhaps later he would remind her how much he disliked secrets. But for now -- perhaps he could see about making her desire a reality.

He kissed her throat, sending out a wave of reassurance as he moved around to stand behind Methos. She looked at him, startled at realizing his intentions, but allowing him to draw her in deeper, not able to resist the temptation he offered her. At any other time, LaCroix would not have dared to feed from the ancient Immortal; but tonight -- tonight was different. The fever of war mixed with alcohol and the catalyst of the link that Triona seemed to hold them all in made this night unique.

He would give his child her dearest wish -- to share with Methos the bond that the two of them had shared long before the Immortal had become a part of her life.

She pulled Methos, unresisting,  down to the bench that sat under the alcove's window, sliding his unbuttoned shirt over his shoulders. LaCroix knelt behind him, allowing Triona to set the pace. She drew her Master deeper into their link, then pulled Methos to her, kissing him softly as she extended her grip on his mind with a silken touch.

All the strands met, and the moment came. LaCroix bit into the Immortal's neck and the world exploded, the three way link pouring mental energy into an unbreakable circle. This was unlike anything, that in two thousand years as a vampire, he had ever experienced.

He continued to feed, and felt a rush of joy from Triona as she touched the Immortal's essence, binding it with theirs. This was a true sharing, the three of them totally exposed to each other as they had never been before. Methos, pressed between the two of them, allowed the closeness of the bloodlink -- allowing a bond he had resisted for centuries. They could feel his wariness even as he opened himself to the understanding of the ties that bound LaCroix and Triona together, as she had wished. And at that understanding, the warmth of Triona's love enveloped the two men -- a love that wasn't shared, but whole and true to each of them. The moment seemed timeless as three became one.

Then it was over, Methos slowly drifting into the darkness of unconsciousness, drawing Triona -- exhausted from handling the potent energies of the night -- with him. LaCroix gently laid the two down. "For you, my love," he said, kissing her cheek.

Her eyes opened a little, fighting sleep. "Thank you," she whispered. "It was everything I'd ever dreamed."

"May all your dreams be realized, child," he answered softly, as her eyes closed.

LaCroix leaned against the bench, savoring the lingering remnants of the power that had infused the night. Feeling the blood ties of his children as they slept, peaceful, in the dark night of war. Soon, that peace would be shattered by the dawn. But in this moment, it was his to take, to remember, to cherish. It would be enough.
 

End


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