Jean-Claude closed the door to Asher's rooms behind him as he 
entered.  He still hadn't relinquished his hold on my hand.  Maybe he 
was worried I would try to run...a thought that was beginning to grow 
in it's appeal.  I hadn't realized that Asher was going to leave me 
*alone* with the Master of the City.  I'd thought he would stay to 
make sure things didn't get out of hand.

At least Jean-Claude was showing some restraint instead of hitting me 
with the ardeur full throttle.  I was so nervous I was starting to 
tremble.  "Please do not be frightened, ma fleur," he told me 
gently.  "I will not hurt you.  Asher is only in the next room, you 
have but to call for him if it will make you feel better."  He 
brought his other hand up to cup the back of my head under my hair.  
He ran his thumb in small circles just behind my ear, draining away 
some of the nervous tension.  My eyes closed for a moment.  I 
sighed, willing myself to relax.  When I opened my eyes again, 
Jean-Claude's midnight blue ones were mere inches from them.

Holding my skull gently but firmly, he brushed his lips across mine.  
They were soft as silk.  His breath was sweet with wintergreen and 
the scent of fresh blood riding just under it.  I wondered *who* he'd 
fed on this afternoon.  His mouth moved on from mine, slightly open, 
breathing in my scent, to nibble at my ear playfully.  "Oh ho!  You 
smell of the magi, cherie," he murmured.  "If you managed to seduce 
him, then you have done what even Belle Morte could not."

"It was only a kiss, Jean-Claude," I sighed testily.  "I've already 
been over this with Asher, I'd rather not talk about it any more, 
thank you."  Jean-Claude gave a wicked little chuckle, sending 
shivers down my spine.  "If you say so, cherie.  I will admit that 
you do not smell as though you have lain with him," he 
conceded.  "But that must have been quite a kiss for his 
scent to be this strong still."  'Screw it,' I thought.  'Let him 
think whatever he wants to.  I just don't care anymore.'

The memory of Ramses' lips on mine and the thought of what might have 
been, had I allowed it to continue, sent a thrill through me that 
caused things to tighten in me.  Jean-Claude moaned appreciatively at 
my lust.  I could almost feel him drink it in much the same way he 
would blood.  Taken gently like this, the ardeur wasn't nearly as 
frightening to experience.  I was aware of Asher easing the marks 
open and joining with me.  I got the secondary sensation of the heat 
and moisture from the shower on our body.  It helped me relax 
further, making it easier for Jean-Claude to feed from my lust.  
I wasn't sure if the joining was to protect me or so that my master 
could experience this feeding as well. 

Asher fine tuned the sensations he was allowing me to experience 
through him, concentrating on our hands...or more specifically, the 
sense of *touch*.  It was as if his hands were mine.  I felt the 
smooth slickness of his skin under the steaming jets of water as he 
lathered up.  He had only done something similar the night before 
when I had joined with him while he was with Jean-Claude.  But that 
had not been directed at me solely.  I had forced my way in on that 
one.  This gentle, willing sharing was much more intimate, and 
I was suddenly overwhelmed with desire.

Jean-Claude's attentions were secondary now, so wrapped up was I with 
what I was sensing from my master.  A wistful memory formed briefly 
in my mind before I could stop it.  I was afraid it would cause Asher 
to withdraw from me.  But I sensed his acceptance of my wish, and I 
could almost see him smile.  'I cannot deny you this, ma rose 
d'acier,' he whispered into my mind.   'I will always remember and 
treasure that you loved me first when I still bore 
the "scars"...before you knew I had been restored.'  As his hand 
trailed down the right side of his body, rinsing the soap away, he 
let me feel the false scars once again.  The rough hard texture of 
them reminded me of feeling them under my own hands, tasting them 
with my mouth as I *took* the fourth mark rather than accepting it, 
reveling in the friction of them against my bare skin, lubricated 
only by my sweat, as Asher made love to me. 

I guided our hand down to our groin, wanting to touch there and 
remember the feel of him moving inside me, the unique combination of 
silky smoothness and the arousing, nearly painful friction of his 
rough side.  My body spasmed at the mere sensory memory, and a moan 
escaped my lips.  It was echoed by Jean-Claude as his tongue and lips 
worked along my collar bone.  Somewhere along the line he had pulled 
my sweatshirt over my head, removing it.  I didn't remember him doing 
so.  He held me pressed against him, hands working up and down my 
spine then unfastening my bra.

My mind was still with Asher in the shower.  I growled in frustration 
that his flesh would not respond to our touch.  He chuckled ruefully 
in my head.  'I told you I need to feed first, cherie,' he reminded 
me.  I whimpered as I felt him withdraw his presence from mine while 
he toweled off to get dressed.

I was now fully aware of Jean-Claude.  He had dropped my bra to the 
floor.  Kneeling slightly, he took my breast into his mouth.  His 
fangs pressed hard and sharp against the tender skin of my aureole 
but didn't pierce flesh.  His tongue swirled my nipple, teasing it to 
hardness, and he began to suckle.  My hands clutched his hair, 
dislodging the velvet ribbon and freeing it to cascade around him.  I 
threw my head back in a growling moan and pressed myself to him.  He 
lifted me with his arms around my legs and laid me back on the bed.

He went very still all of a sudden, then withdrew from my breast to 
give me an astonished and slightly worried look.  "Ma fleur," Jean-
Claude whispered.  "You are *lactating*!  Are you...?"  The question 
trailed off, but I knew what he wanted to ask.  Smiling, I shook my 
head.  "No, cher.  I am *not* pregnant," I reassured him.  "I've been 
like that ever since I hit puberty.  I always imagined, had I lived 
in the right century for it, I would have ended up working as a wet 
nurse."  Relief seemed to wash over him, and I wondered if had I 
*been* pregnant, would the ardeur have been dangerous to me 
or an unborn child.  Since I was not pregnant, the point was 
moot...but I would ask Asher about it in the future.

"Now, are you going to finish what you've started?" I laughed, my 
voice coming out a little deeper than my normal alto tone.  Jean-
Claude's wicked grin returned, pleased to find me so willing 
now.  "Oui," he purred in response, drawling the word out.  I 
trembled in appreciation of the voice trick as my nipples hardened.  

I half reclined, propped on my elbows and watched as Jean-Claude 
removed his shirt.  He pulled it slowly from the waistband of his 
jeans then simply allowed the mass of blue silk to slide from his 
shoulders and puddle on the floor.  Next, he balanced gracefully on 
one leg, bending the other up behind him at the knee.  One handed he 
began unfastening the row of buttons that ran up the back of his 
boot, holding it closed around his calf.  The leather sighed as it 
flopped around his ankle.  He finished removing the boot then 
repeated the process with the other one, his eyes never leaving mine.

Once he stood there barefoot, clad only in his painted on jeans, he 
reached for my foot.  First one hiker then the other were slipped of 
and tossed back over his shoulders playfully.  My socks soon followed 
suite.  Placing one knee on the bed for balance, he massaged his 
hands slowly up my legs.  When he reached my hips, he moved to grasp 
my wrists rather than continuing up along the bare skin of my torso.  
Gently but firmly he stretched my arms straight out to the side, 
forcing me to lie flat.  He seemed to hover just above my body, the 
skin of our chests barely brushing, as I was consumed by his kiss in 
blissful abandon.

He released my mouth eventually, fangs and tongue grazing lightly 
along my jaw and on to the more sensitive skin of my throat.  Silken 
lips worked and nipped at me as he moved one hand to play in my hair 
and the other dipped down to unfasten my jeans and slip inside to 
caress me.  I dug my nails into his back as I arched into him, 
moaning.

"You promised no blood, mon ami," Asher's voice came like warm fur.  
I opened my eyes to see him standing just at the edge of the bed by 
my feet, fully dressed, hair still darkly damp.  "I remember, mon 
chardonneret," Jean-Claude replied, standing in that bonelessly 
graceful way that vampires have.  I was beginning to suspect that 
they used some form of levitation to get that effect.  He leaned his 
back into Asher's chest, and my master encircled the slightly shorter 
vampire's waist with his arms.  I smiled to see mon beau Ange so 
happy again.

"She is exquisitely delicious, mon amour," Jean-Claude said over his 
shoulder.  "Thank you for sharing her with me."  Asher gazed down at 
me with a mixture of adoration, lust, and possessive pride.  "You are 
welcome, mon etelon noir," he smiled.  "But you have not finished 
unwrapping her yet," he added mischievously.  Jean-Claude affected a 
pouty pose.  "Well, I shall just have to remedy that, won't I," he 
simpered.  I giggled.

He grasped the ankles of my pants' legs and gave a deft 
tug.  "Voila!" he cried triumphantly, as my jeans were snatched away 
from my body without so much as shifting my panties.  I laughed 
delightedly, reminded of magicians' acts where they pulled a 
tablecloth out from under full place settings without disrupting a 
single dish.  Jean-Claude grinned, flashing fang, entirely too 
pleased with himself.

Asher laughed appreciatively, then pulled Jean-Claude's face back for 
a passionate kiss.  I watched, mesmerized by the sight...the beauty 
of it and the sense of *rightness* I got from it.  These two still 
loved each other very much.  It was a shame that it had taken such a 
tragedy to bring them to a point where they would *allow* themselves 
this much needed release.  

Asher's hands moved of their own volition.  One played with the dark 
line of hair running down from Jean-Claude's bellybutton into his 
jeans, where the other hand worked at the fastenings.  The Master of 
St. Louis caressed one of Asher's arms, bringing his free hand up to 
cup my master's face as they continued to kiss.  It was extremely 
arousing to watch them together.  I could feel Jean-Claude drawing in 
our lust and love and wrapping it around himself.

I soon found myself kneeling on the bed, my hands playing over the 
both of them, wanting the contact.  I could see Jean-Claude growing 
hard, straining at the fabric of the jeans.  Asher had gotten about 
half the buttons of the fly undone, when a bloodcurdling scream cut 
through the air.  We all froze.

"Kylie!" Asher breathed in terror, recognizing the voice.  The scream 
had come from the general direction of the roof access stairwell.  I 
blanched.  Had she lost her footing and fallen?  She'd had a lot of 
stuff to bring back down from the roof.  Asher must have picked up on 
my thought.  He was out the door like a shot with Jean-Claude close 
behind him.  I stood quickly, looking around for something to throw 
on.  Jean-Claude's blue silk shirt was closer than my own clothes, 
he'd thrown them across the room.  I slipped it on and did up a few 
of the buttons.  The shirt hit about mid-thigh...modest enough 
in a pinch.  Spotting Anita's Firestar on the bedside table where 
Asher had left it, I snagged the gun and padded out into the hall.  

Jason was loping up the hall, headed towards the roof access.  
Tucking the gun into my panties, I said, "I can get us there 
quicker.  Let me give you a lift."  Then without waiting for him to 
answer, I snagged him from behind under the shoulders and *flew* to 
join the others.  I noticed he was a lot heavier than Tim.