tampered | Log: Completed

Log: Completed

When; Sunday night, around 7 p.m.
Rating; R
Characters; Lestat (

notapreacher)
Summary; A 231-year-old boy and his dog stop by for a visit.
Log;

There are plenty of dog treats ready for Horatio -- the pet shop loves him now -- and he ate earlier so... Lestat won't eat. Vampires don't eat regular food: he knows that much. They drink blood and that's it... or at least that's it for Lestat. He's seen Luke drinking other things but it's better not to make any assumptions.

He's... nervous, but in a good way. Nervous with anticipation because he doesn't know what to expect. He knows what he wants -- he thinks -- but has no idea what will happen. And there's something a little bit delicious in the anticpation. He's been playing his sax, just because: it's calming and steadying and right now, his thoughts are so scattered that he feels like a kid on his first-ever date. This isn't even really a date: it's an admitted question-and-answer session with no guarantee of satisfaction from either of them.

The evening ought to prove interesting.

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Something about the man in that picture causes him to pause. For what reason, he really can't say. Studying it for several long moments, he doesn't answer the question. To say he isn't curious certainly would be a lie.

Very slowly, his head turns to Gren once more.

"I do if you are willing to tell it."

"I can't."

The floor is suddenly fascinating. Right there, that spot of carpet: he's never noticed the pattern in it before.

That's a lie.

"I don't think I've ever told anybody the whole story without leaving out choice bits and pieces... but I think it every day. All of it. It's too painful to put into words... but I remember everything that happened."

Now he looks up again, meeting Lestat's eyes. "If I share it with you, you have to promise that it stays between us. No Anita, no Cloud, no one anywhere else gets to know it. And even if it seems like there are things that can be done about it, you can't. You can't take action on my behalf. Will you promise me that?"

It's a lot to ask and he knows it.

It's a hell of a lot to ask.

That question causes time to stop for him. Not tell anyone...That's...

...something he can do. He can even leave the story out of the book he's writing about his time here. It would not be the first time that details have slipped away from a story of his.

But does he wish to?

Not to tell Anita or Cloud. Not to tell anyone from his world should they come.

Time suddenly returns to him and he realized that Gren is waiting for his answer. Returning the look without hesitation, his tone becomes serious. There is no light teasing now or wonder or amusement now.

"I promise I will tell no one."

"Then take it."

The wine glass goes on a nearby shelf; he rests his arms around Lestat's neck and closes his eyes.

"Please."

So softly, he presses a kiss to Lestat's lips and lets his mind cover the details. From enlisting to being deployed to Titan, to his commanding officer there being killed by a sniper to Vicious rising in the ranks, to the desolation and the pointlessness, to the music box and the scorpion, he thinks the details of the war and the part he played. He can't possibly leave anything out; these are his own thoughts and they're uncensored. His admiration for Vicious and his crush on Vicious and the way he wanted to love Vicious: it's all there.

And so is going home after his tour of duty was over only to be arrested as a spy as soon as he got to Mars, just before he could say hello to his mother again. His confusion over it, his panic; it's all there. Being sent to Pluto is there, and hearing when he got there that it was Vicious who testified against him as a spy? that's there too, and so is going crazy and the drug testing and the effect the drug testing had on his body.

And so is the effect being pretty and having a body like his -- breasts and all -- had on his fellow inmates. And so is the way they used him for their own pleasure, used his body: it's all there.

And so is his decision to fight it and stop taking the drugs, and the only way to do that was to get thrown in solitary and it nearly killed him, but it didn't.

He thinks about the way the medics on Pluto sold him to the transport ship crew as a companion because one of them wanted a woman for the ride back, and about how he knew that man -- Walter was his name -- was going to have him killed when they got closer to Mars and about the way he escaped from that transport ship and made it to Callisto.

He thinks about how stupid and desperate it was for him to hire people to steal his saxophone and bring it to him, all the way from Mars, but he did that too, and because he had that he got the gig at the Rester House, and because he had the gig at the Rester House he met Julia: all those details are there. So are the years and years of nightmares, of flinching at being touched or at being eyed or at anyone telling him he was pretty. So is the detail of his self-imposed celibacy after prison: he'd had more than enough.

And so is Faye. She's part of the story too: another link to Vicious, who just happens to be here in the city and who, after all this time, seems convinced he didn't testify. It's too bad, because the whole scene on the rooftop in Blue Crow is there too: the business with the red-eye, and using it as a way to get answers from Vicious and killing Lin by mistake and dying on his way back to Titan. He doesn't censor any of it.

Once the story's done being thought he opens his eyes: they're wet with unshed tears. He lets out a little breath he didn't even know he'd been holding.

"I hope you got all of that, because I can't do it again."

He's seen many things in his lifetime. Read many minds. But none like the one he's looking at now. The lips against his own and the arms around his neck...

So much pain. So much suffering. Without realizing it, his arms snake around Gren's waist somewhere towards the middle of the story and remain there.

When the story finishes, he watches the eyes open. The tears there are frozen in place. Wanting to fall but never slipping past. It's almost tragic that they don't. His own expression is soft as he pulls Gren closer to him. Soft kisses are placed on his cheeks while he holds him.

"You do not have to do it again. I would not make you do such a thing."

When his words finally spill out, they're little more than a whisper. "I try not to let it get to me. The only thing that kept me from falling apart completely was music. I wrote it in my mind on Titan and I played songs in my mind on Pluto. I didn't have my sax, but I still had my music."

Blinking heavily, he swallows back those tears: they don't get to fall. Not today, not now. He feels so exposed. "Lin told me the other day that I think I'm the only person anything bad's ever happened to. That's not true. I'm just another person, and bad things happen to everyone." There's nothing special about him. "The City handcuffed us to each other during one of the curse days. That was fun. I really didn't mean to kill him."

As if explanations are in order now that the story's out. Stepping back, he crosses his hands protectively over his chest: that's also old habit.

That position...Gren's protecting himself. He's exposed now and so he's trying to do something about it. Stepping forward, he cups Gren's face between his hands.

"Come. Let us sit."

Brushing his face gently, he goes over to where the glass is before returning to the man's side. Ever so lightly, he places a hand on his lower back to guide Gren into walking.

"We'll sit for now. You do not have to explain anything to me."

If it's consensual it can't be all bad, right? A part of him can't believe he just told this story to a virtual stranger, but he knows he did it of his own choosing. There wasn't anything forced about it.

Now, though, he feels lost. Like a little kid. Floating, groundless, alone. The whole business of him having half a woman's body doesn't even seem to have given Lestat pause for thought, and that's pretty weird. Then again, he's only told three other people in three years. Julia didn't judge. Faye was shocked, but some of that's in the way she found out. Abby... Abby was neutral. And doesn't care.

Do you really have tits? Oh, Lin's so eloquent.

He has no idea what Lestat thinks, but he can always tell when people are thinking about his body; their eyes go to his chest when they talk. It must be how women feel all the time.

What he really wants right now is an arm around him. Somewhere to feel safe. someone to trust. But he's already asked an awful lot of Lestat and he doesn't want to ask for even more at the moment, so he takes his seat on the couch as directed, watches as the glass of wine's set down on the table in front of him, and just... waits. He's not quite fatalistic enough to sit back and let just anything happen, but he's worn out on a lot of levels, fatigued. He's never had his thoughts pulled right out of his consciousness before and it's all a little strange, to say the least.

Once he has Gren sat down, he calls his dog over. Horatio obeys right away and jumps up onto the couch to one side while he takes the other. After he's sat down, he reaches over and wraps an arm around the shoulders next to him.

Right away, his fingers start play with the dark hair. Wrapping it around his fingers, brushing it, petting it... It's beautiful and he's admired it from the start. Now though, he's just touching it and playing with it as a way of comforting and soothing the man.

Under his breath, he starts humming. It's soft but loud enough for Gren to hear. Music comforts him. He said as much just moments ago. The song really is just something he's making up now but it is music all the same. It's something for Gren to cling to if he wishes.

He continues humming as he thinks. Such secrets really should surprise him. Perhaps it's the immortality thing.

Lestat's right there, doing the one thing that's guaranteed to lull him out of this post-disclosure not-quite-traumatic panic he wants to lapse into. The humming makes it almost impossible for him not to do the obvious thing: let his eyes close, lean into Lestat, and just... be held.

So he does, and Lestat's fingers tangle in his hair then smooth it out again, tangle and smooth, tangle and smooth.

It's really nice.

He doesn't move when he feels the body lean into him. Instead, he just keeps humming and plays with the dark strands.

So often is he out there in all his vain glory. Rarely does he settle into something like this. However, he does enjoy these opportunities. To be the elder and the one of strength. It just shows that he can be like that.

Resting his head against Gren's, he lips part as he starts singing in French.

"Dodo, l’enfant do,
L’enfant dormira bien vite
Dodo, l’enfant do
L’enfant dormira bientôt.

Une poule blanche
Est là dans la grange.
Qui va faire un petit coco*
Pour l’enfant qui va fair’ dodo.

Dodo, l’enfant do,
L’enfant dormira bien vite
Dodo, l’enfant do
L’enfant dormira bientôt.

Tout le monde est sage
Dans le voisinage
Il est l’heure d’aller dormir
Le sommeil va bientôt venir."

When he's done, he lightly kisses the top of Gren's head before speaking quietly. "How are you feeling?"

"Like a fool for letting it get to me, still."

He doesn't move, though. It's too nice to have someone else take care of him: it brings him way back to a time when things were simpler. When he didn't have to bind his chest before going outside. When there was no memory of prison or worse, of dying. No drugs, no addiction, no bounty on his head, no one out to get him.

When things were safe.

Lestat's not asking for any explanation, and that's almost a relief. Next time he's telling the story aloud, on his own terms. That way he can leave out little salient details, the ones that make it not fit for polite company.

That will probably be smarter, but call this a test, or call it a leap of faith. Lestat has a lot of power, and powerful allies aren't bad things to have. He meant what he said about Lestat not acting on this information on his behalf, but if he ever changes his mind and needs a favor, he'll ask.

(Vicious is crazy.)

"You are hardly a fool for allowing something like that to see get to you. I have memories from when I was a human that do similar things for me. Even memories throughout my years as a vampire."

He smiles to himself. How true that is. There have been many nights when he just locks himself away as memories resurface. Quite recently too. Strange how some are so painful they hurt to remember and yet he'd never wish to forget them.

Things like the letter about Nicki's death, Claudia attacking him and then her death, Louis leaving him, and so on. Of course, there are happy ones as well. Good and bad. Both are always there.

"Perhaps the fool is the one who no longer allows such a thing to get to him."

Now that... that makes him stop and sit up; he turns and looks right into Lestat's eyes, studies that pale immortal ever-youthful face, and wonders how a line like that can come out with all seriousness from someone with the maturity of a twenty-one-year-old.

And because Lestat's done it to him a number of times he returns the favor: rests his hands on either side of his face, leans forward, and helps himself to a kiss. It's nothing terrible or unseemly or too much -- he thinks -- but it's his way of saying thanks. He might linger just a little bit longer than necessary, but...

Well. He's never claimed he couldn't be as much of an opportunist as the next man.

Like the first kiss, this one also surprises him. Though, more so in a way. This time he's not reading Gren's thoughts. It's just a kiss now. And to say he dislikes it would be a complete lie.

Without deepening it, he returns the kiss. The hand in the dark hair moves down to the back of his neck. Not holding him there. Not pulling him forward. Just...resting there.

He pulls away first though with a little smile, his lips just a breath away from Gren's. "You're welcome."

"You understand now? Why I said I shouldn't have liked it?"

He's not looking for a relationship; he knows he's nowhere near capable of anything like that. But it doesn't mean he can't flirt and have fun. What he won't do is push. Days of being aggressive, of being predatory, are safely tucked away for now.

It's just that every now and then -- impossible though it is -- it's nice to feel alive again.

"Mm..."

Yes, he does understand. It's all clear now. However, the smile on his face grows slightly. Only slightly though.

"I also understand why you did like it. Sometimes what we shouldn't want or like conflicts with what we do."

"Stop being so wise."

As if that statement needs punctuation, he adds one more thing: "Flirt."

Now it's time for that wine; he leans forward and picks it up, studies it for a minute, takes a sip. It's pretty good, although he's not much of a wine connoisseur. On Callisto he drank the hard stuff because the place demanded it.

"I used to be much easier than I am now. Whatever, whoever, whenever: it was all good. I won't lie and tell you I didn't like those days because I did. I liked them a lot. No, I loved them. It was great. But there's such a thing as too much of a good thing." The grin on his face at that pronouncement is sarcastic as anything; what he went through in prison was anything but a good thing.

"You're the first person I've let kiss me since those days."

And it's all been fairly innocent too... and that's just fine. If it had been more, he probably would have run the other way.

The declaration of him being a flirt makes him laugh and he reaches around to scratch Horatio's head really quickly before settling back.

"I had my own exploits in my days. And then I had a couple more when I switched bodies with a human before I came here. The first was far from pleasant since I was years out of practice and in a body not my own." He chuckles softly and shakes his head while he catches a better sniff of the wine. It's certainly not of the finest quality but it's good all the same.

True, he cannot drink it but he can smell it. And, sometimes alcohol enhances the taste of the blood he drinks.

"Still, I am glad you allowed me to kiss you. Doing so is something I certainly do not regret and greatly enjoy."

It's so weird talking about this in the abstract.

"Is it something you're going to keep doing?"

Because that would be good to know. The only way to get back into balance after being thrown for a loop is with both feet firmly on the ground. Until he knows Lestat's intentions -- other than not purposefully harming him -- he's going to feel like he's on some sort of merry-go-round.

"It is something I want to keep doing."

Turning his body to face Gren completely, he rests an arm on the back of the couch then his head against his hand. Once he's settled, he just studies him waiting to see the response he'll get to that one.

And he already knows that Lestat usually does exactly what he wants.

Now this is like a game and he's never been very skilled at games: he's terrible at poker, inept at shogi... although he is very good at pool.

Behind Lestat, Horatio twitches in his sleep.

He can't hear the clock's ticking, but it's still enough in the room so he can feel the slow beating of his own heart.

"Why?"

"I enjoy kissing you. I can tell that you do as well which causes me to enjoy it further. It is difficult to not want to do something you like."

He could have glossed that over, certainly. But, he felt no need to do so.

That is the simple truth.

"Is that it?"

He doesn't want to be someone's pretty toy, to be played with and cast aside when the next shinier thing catches their eye. It might be time to ask the question he didn't ask earlier.

Sure, it's enjoyable but not just because the kisses have been well-executed and not just because they've taken him by surprise each time and not just because Lestat's really attractive. There's so much more to it... at least where he's concerned. But if it's going to be one-sided he needs to know now so he can stop it.

Before it gets to be something he can't live without.

Hm...no. This is the first time he's really considered it before. Three little words and they cause him to pause. His expression becomes thoughtful. So often does he act on impulse without thinking the actions through completely. Yes, he has been asked why he does the things he does. Usually his answers cause frustration and the one asking gives up.

This is slightly new.

Watching Gren's expression, he recalls the memories he saw early. Of how Gren had been used in the past. And abused in the process.

"No. That is not it."

With a sigh, continues. "I find I am rather fond of you, Gren. I do not kiss you just because you are beautiful or the current interest. Somehow, you have attracted me to you. Yes, you are stunning to look upon. However, I'm also not asking anything of you in return. Our feelings our own. I want to continue kissing you now because of how attached to you I'm finding myself. To all of you."

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