TITLE: It's In the Kiss
AUTHOR: Susan / apckrfan
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DISTRIBUTION: My site, AO3, FanFiction.net, LiveJournal, Yahoo Groups. Anyone else, please just tell me where it's at.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own any characters, they belong to Laurell K. Hamilton and the publishing companies she uses. No profit is made from this fic.
RATING: FRT
SPOILERS: Guilty Pleasures
SUMMARY: A little ficlet about Jean-Claude and Anita's first kiss on the way to see Nikolaos
CHARACTERS/PAIRING: Jean-Claude & Anita Blake
DATE STARTED: March 2003
STATUS: Complete
WORD COUNT: 818
FEEDBACK: Please, I can't write better without it.




Jean-Claude was no longer certain he should have taken their charade to this level now that his lips were actually on Anita's. He had kissed hundreds, if not thousands, of women as well as men over the centuries, but none succeeded in taking his breath away so thoroughly. He felt it the moment the kiss changed and with that change the meaning behind it did, too. Her kiss carried hope and a promise of far more, whether she intended it to or not.

He groaned softly, something he had not done due to a kiss since before he had been turned. The squad car should have continued on by this point, but he could still hear it nearby. His hands slid along the length of her back, his fingertips tracing her spinal column until he reached her shapely and well-formed bottom almost as if he had no control over them at all.

Her lips parted, or had he forced them apart? He could not be sure, but either way, he took the invitation and slid his tongue into the warm haven that was her mouth. He tried to be gentle, tried not to plunder her mouth like a clumsy adolescent but he did not have enough control over himself at the moment. Not that she seemed to mind, she was receptive to him at the moment and he had done nothing to bespell or enthrall her.

Her hands were at his chest, touching the front of his shirt. Her fingertips sought the cross shaped scar there and he groaned again upon feeling the Executioner's gentle touch to the scar that branded him a vampire. He felt Nikolaos calling to him and knew he had to end this madness now or Anita would never get out of the Circus of the Damned alive tonight. Nikolaos did not like insubordination, certainly not from Jean-Claude's animator/necromancer human crush.

His feelings for Anita went far beyond a crush. He might have been able to deny it was so until this moment, until this kiss. He loved this insufferable human woman that he called ma petite. At first it had started as a challenge, never had Jean-Claude been told no. Never had a human been able to resist the power of his gaze. Never, until Anita Blake. It seemed tonight, at last, Jean-Claude found the thing about him Anita Blake could not resist. Him. It was in the way she kissed him back somewhat arduously. His Executioner wanted him. That was why she forced herself to resist him and his charms.

"Ma petite," he whispered once certain the human policemen had gone about their business elsewhere in the District. He certainly did not want to stop the kiss, did not want it to end, his heart was beating in perfect time with hers, two hearts beating as one, their kiss did that, surely even she could not deny that. But with the realization that she did want him, that he might possibly have her one day, came responsibility. The responsibility of acting the role of a gentleman, for tonight. He needed to prove he was not one of the monsters she hunted and executed.

It was he who looked away, averting his eyes from meeting her dark eyed gaze, rather than the other way around. He laughed almost bitterly, a vampire afraid to look a human in the eye rather than the other way around. It was perhaps a cruel form of justice, but if he let her see his eyes just then she would see far too much. And that would give her power. He was not ready to relinquish any power to her.

"Come, ma petite, the upholders of the laws have lost interest in us. Let us pay a visit to the master." He offered her his hand, but the playacting was done, the rose was off the bloom so to speak. Both now knew the power of their touch, the power of their kiss and he did not take it as an insult when she did not accept his offered hand. She was afraid, confused, just as he was. He was thankful that he had centuries of practice at turning his blue eyes as cold as a winter's sky. "She is waiting for us," he added unnecessarily as they began walking once more in the direction of the Circus.

~The end~

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