tampered | Log; Complete

There's no work tonight and fortunately enough no curses; he meets the knock at the door casually, resting one arm parallel to the door jamb, the other tucked into one of the belt loops on his jeans. Ever since Lestat made the comment about his clothes -- or lack thereof -- he's been alternately amused and terrified at the idea of going shopping together. The minute he opens the door, though, all that cerebral crap flies right out the window as he takes in the sight before him: Lestat looks beautiful.

He always does. For a long minute Gren simply... looks him up and down in great appreciation. Finally, though, he steps forward to deliver a proper greeting: a kiss, a caress to Lestat's cheek, an altogether satisfied smile.

The sleeves of his white button-down shirt are rolled up to the forearms and his only accessory -- that braided leather bracelet -- sits on his left wrist. The words I think I love you sit equally apparent on his tongue but he swallows them back: he's not brave enough to say them. Anyway, there's something to be said for silence when it fills the space for them. He's been reading Louis's book and in it, the most horrible thing has just happened to Lestat and even though logic informed him that it couldn't possibly have been as devastating as the portrait painted on the pages, it still nearly destroyed him when he read it.

And that memory -- that very visceral reaction -- earns Lestat a second kiss. He's not dead after all.

Just undead.

Well now, this greeting is much calmer than the last. Almost more public too since this is the hallway rather than the apartment. Uncrossing his arms, he pulls Gren closer. The second kiss seemed...different. He's not sure why but that is the feeling he got from it. With a fond look, he kisses him back.

"This greeting was very different from your last. Yet, I love it all the same."

Kissing his forehead, he looks past him to the apartment.

"Are you ready to go? Or is there something you still need in there?"

He wants the answer to be the former. As enjoyable as it would be to go in there and make Gren melt all over again, he does want to do this shopping trip just as badly. Dressing him up with new clothes will be just as fun as undressing him. And perhaps there will be a little of that as well.

It's so impossible to tell.

Well, he could have given Lestat the same kind of hello he did last time and more. "If I'd given you the kind of welcome I really wanted, we'd never get anywhere." As if he has to demonstrate he moves just a little closer, runs his hand the length of Lestat's body, back up again to rest at the back of his neck. There's nothing shy about the follow-up kiss: out in the hall or in the privacy of his apartment, the intention's exactly the same.

When he does finally pull back he shrugs helplessly. "See what I mean?" He can feel how soft and liquid his eyes are now: Lestat makes him melt with want.

"But I'm ready if you are." He's got his apartment key and some of the more valuable coins in his pockets and doesn't need anything else, save Lestat's very welcome company.

"Mm...tempting..." He nips at those tempting lips when the kiss is done then reaches past Gren to close the door. "Let's get going though."

Resting his hand on Gren's lower back, he laughs lightly. Already, he's figuring out where to have them go first. There are a couple good quality places here that he approves of. He made sure to check after the first time he lost a shirt he particularly liked.

"Would it bother you if we took the stairs? I'm in a mood to walk tonight."

"I don't... ride in elevators if I can help it." Does Lestat not understand that about him yet? No elevators, no subways, no small enclosed places: he'd make a terrible vampire. The very though of getting into a coffin and watching the lid close fills him with an irrational panic. It was the cell they threw him in for solitary where he detoxed: it was tiny, tiny and dark and cold and crawling with all sorts of things either real or imagined.

"So the stairs are great." For now he lets Lestat lead him: he likes the contact.

It's only five flights and dead or not, his legs work just fine.

His eyes slide over to study Gren as they walk. Naturally he wouldn't enjoy an elevator. After so much time in a cell? Still, that wasn't what he was talking about.

"I was talking about walking instead of flying actually."

Smiling, he returns his gaze ahead of them. One night he will have to take Gren flying. Holding the man against him as they move through the air wouldn't be difficult at all. And there are things that can only be seen from the sky.

Of course. It isn't that he forgot who he was with. It's just... this is so new.

So new.

As they make their way down the stairs -- he can't imagine flying without the help of a personal spacecraft -- he rests his arm lightly around Lestat's waist. He likes the feel of the rise and fall of hips against his arm and hand: it's some small proof of a once-upon-a-time humanity. Of course, the exploration of his body's led him to the same conclusion too: the form is familiar even if its capabilities are foreign to him.

Wondering what he's doing giving his heart to a vampire has crossed his mind more than once, but the same answer keeps coming back: if he only cared about the external trappings of a person, he'd be too much of a hypocrite. It's what's inside that matters and that's the way it's always been. And he's been given a taste of Lestat's heart and that... that's enough to negate any doubts he has about the man. His generosity knows no bounds, and he's capable of so much passion.

"So what kind of places are you taking me?" He knows the pet shop and the plant store and every inch of every music store. He knows the beach and the fountain and that cafe where he's supposed to meet Anita tomorrow, and the fancy elite restaurant Julia took him to and the place that serves Chinese takeout, and Lux and the Den, but he really doesn't know the clothing stores at all. And he's taking Lestat's words very much at face value here: with Lestat's vanity and attention to dress, there was never any doubt about the matter.

"I honestly haven't decided yet. There are a couple fine places that I go to myself. I've been pleased with their work so I return there when I want something new."

A pout suddenly comes to his lips. He's lost far too many articles of clothing to attacks and curses here. To lose such fine quality... It still bothers him despite the fact that the attacks were awhile ago.

"This place has a terrible habit of ruining perfectly good clothing."

Letting out a dramatic sigh, he shakes his head. Yes, he's materialistic. But when one lives as long as a vampire, it's difficult not to. There are many of his kind who love fine cloth, expensive trinkets, and so on. To stare at them as the nights go on. Things are something lingering. In general, anyways.

"I think living in general has a terrible habit of ruining perfectly good clothing." He doesn't regret not owning that gray dress any more -- the one he had on when he first got here -- because it reminds him of a lot of things he doesn't want to think about and doesn't need to think about any more. But the small part of him that suffers from a tiny bit of vanity any more is a little outraged, because it's not easy to find a well-fitting dress when you're 6'2.

Even on Callisto.

But he only wore it to prove a point, and the point was that he could disguise himself without disguising himself to people who used to know him but hadn't seen him since Pluto. It worked; he was satisfied. He didn't need to keep up the ruse.

The pout on Lestat's face is pretty cute, though. In the grand scheme of things he's pretty sure clothes are the last thing he'd ever really care about, but they're important to his... companion, that's a good word for it, and he can't fault Lestat for any of the things he likes. As much as anyone else, he deserves to surround himself with the best of everything.

"Wherever you want to go. I got these things at the first place I found after I got here and got paid. If I'd known I was going to be spending time with you, I would have picked more meticulously."

"That is the beauty of it all. You didn't know you would be spending time with me. Thus, I am given the chance to take you out for more clothing." To him that is a very beautiful thing. Vanity. It's a lovely thing for a vampire.

And he has a particular fondness for it.

With a simple thought, he causes the door to open for them. Then he guides Gren through the door first. He spent much of his time in an age where being a gentleman was key. Old habits die hard. His lips twist at those four words.

"Come. We'll go this way first." Taking a deep breath of the night air, he relaxes into it completely. The night has been his playground for years. He can't help himself.

"Now, tell me about Abby. You didn't have time to the other night and I'm still curious about her."

Okay, so the door just... opened with no one touching it.

He has a lot to get used to. But he will.

"Abby." Thinking of her makes him smile. "She's sweet. I mean, really sweet. One night during a curse I was pretty... distraught, and she hacked my journal and she talked me down. We ended up meeting the next day for a walk. She's a forensics investigator in her other life, a computer whiz, and now she's one of my best friends here."

His best friend is Julia, but Lestat's not asking about anybody else. He does, however, breathe in the night air so deeply and that he loves it -- that this is his element -- is written all over his face. Some of the things in the book have given Gren pause for thought, but he's trying very hard to make peace with it all on his own terms.

The Lestat he's reading about has so little in common with the Lestat he knows. Louis is entitled to his opinion, of course, but it doesn't mean he has to buy it.

"She is bound and determined to find out who you're seeing. She drips with eagerness. I can tell that she's so unbelievably thrilled to see you happy that she has to know who's doing it."

He laughs as he nods to some woman they pass. The fact that she was staring at him means she deserves it in his mind. But that also means, he leans closer to Gren. Ever so slightly. Only enough to give off the aura of showing his companion off. Something common among couples walking the streets of the world.

And why wouldn't he want to show off someone so beautiful?

"I find your friend rather amusing really. Her other friend Tony is as well. A movie fanatic. Apparently there is a movie about the events within the first book. I've been meaning to watch it sometime. To see how accurate it is. Of course, I've just never taken the time."

Lestat is a master at doing many things at once: he gives his happy opinion on Abby, leans into him as a pretty lady passes by, trying to catch his eye -- that fills him with so much satisfaction because it's like he's being claimed -- and goes on to talk about Tony.

He hasn't met Tony yet. But it's the thing about the movie that makes him stop.

"A movie?" Now that would be something. "You want to watch it together?"

One of his favorite things about Lestat is that he's this... hugely powerful being, but he takes such pleasure in the minutiae of everyday life. Clothes, appearance, photographs on a wall, a woman's smile, books, movies: it's fascinating. He really is entirely fascinating. And then there's that whole thing about how sensuality just oozes out of all his pores.

That's a good one.

"And I'll tell Abby next time I see her. I just wanted to keep you right here, all to myself for a few days." He pats his chest where his heart still is and used to beat with greater regularity than it does these days. It's true: he wanted to enjoy everything about Lestat privately just for a little bit.

That thought hadn't crossed his mind. Watching that movie with Gren. Well, he rather likes the idea. He hardly ever takes the time to enjoy the human pleasures of television and film.

Plus, he's extremely curious to see how he's been portrayed in that movie...

"I'd love to. I will have to get my hands on it now."

Humming under his breath, he looks into the window of a shop. Such lovely little trinkets. He often likes to see what they have there. The colors, the shimmer, and the glow of objects begging to be bought. Which is why he's purchased so many things from there. However, it's the next place that really interests him. That's a shop designed for clothing.

"You can keep me as your private treasure for as long as you like. Her thoughts simply fascinated me so I couldn't resist asking about the girl. And here we are."

He won't ask how Lestat plans on getting his hands on the movie. If he was back home he'd know how to do it but he's not back home and things work differently here. In so many ways, he's still so new at this place. And there's more he can say about Abby, but before he has the chance to even absorb the fact that Lestat was reading her thoughts -- no wonder he's satisfied by the minimal explanation -- he's ushered into a very small, very exclusive boutique and it's obvious that Lestat's known here: the salesperson on duty is immediately attentive, smiling.

This looks like the kind of place where they take measurements.

Fuck. He hadn't thought about that. But Lestat's little private treasure line fills him with this surprising amount of satisfaction and he's not afraid of anything. It will just be one more round of explanation if it comes to that, and it might not.

A long time ago, he used to be able to afford to shop in places like this. But he hasn't since he left Mars and he wonders just how much he ought to accept. He doesn't need to be dressed up like a toy, but... this is something Lestat wants to do.

He'll allow it, but it will be repaid. Maybe not in money, but it will be repaid. His hands move over a jacket made of the finest silk: it's pretty, and stupidly impractical. And over here a linen shirt that's... well... to die for. "What kinds of things did you have in mind?" He's afraid he's going to walk away from this evening with a whole closet's worth of clothes.

"Mm. Take your time looking. Find something you like." He turns a graceful smile to the salesperson. "I have something to take care of."

Measurements will be required here. And he's already thought of a way to deal with the problem they're going to face. Charming as ever, he glides over to the young man who will be taking them. Sly and warm, he whispers little nothings in his ear as he slowly takes over the the boy's mind. When he's completely under his control, he gives him another smile.

"I'll return shortly with the one you'll be caring for."

Returning to Gren's side, he's suddenly casual as ever. "Have you found anything?"

"Oh, yeah."

The eyes he's looking into, the ones that move from gray to blue to violet to almost black and back again. That's not what Lestat meant and he knows it, but he can't help himself. He's like a big cat, content and purring and lazy. But he can behave -- more or less -- and for now just gives his... companion... a very private smile which he's sure will be properly interpreted.

"I thought the object of the game was for you to dress me." That too-beautiful linen shirt and a black silk jacket are draped over his arm; he holds them up for Lestat's approval.

He almost feels kept. It's weird.

"And keep all the fun of picking out clothes to myself? Tsk." Reaching out, he feels the fabric as he studies what Gren has chosen. Two very good picks. Which will need altering.

Anita once made a bet that he couldn't pick out someone's size on sight. She'd regretted that. When it comes to clothing, his taste is of the highest quality. Tapping one long finger to lips, he wanders over to investigate more clothing.

Color. That's what his looking for. Shades to flatter all of Gren's features at once. To bring out certain qualities at times. Without looking at the people coming to him, he waves away those who try helping him as he walks along picking things seemingly at random despite having given them long stares.

When he's done with shirts, he moves to pants. Easily, he ignores anything that isn't of a decent length. And it's length he needs here. For those long legs.

Satisfied with his choices, he returns to Gren once more. "Come. Nothing can be fitted until you try these on." Smiling as if utterly proud of himself, he heads towards a back room. The man he spoke with earlier follows until they reach a private dressing room.

"Now, let's see what you look like in these."

Again, he's impressed by just how exquisite Lestat's taste is in clothing and he wants to protest that he doesn't need these things: they're impractical. He's a musician; he's covered up by his saxophone; no one looks at what he's wearing; what he has is enough.

But opportunity and vanity and proximity all play into his decision to continue.

"Are you coming in there with me?" He laughs: he hasn't had help in a changing room since he was five years old. Of course Lestat's free to do whatever he wants. This is his little party and he will be repaid with affection, with music, with whatever he can offer that Lestat wants or needs.

Things have to be fair. Just one question: what's the price of parity to an immortal?

"I'd love to." Ignoring the man who followed them, he follows after Gren. And makes sure to steal a kiss in the process.

He instantly moves in behind his musician the second they're alone, attacking the buttons of that white shirt. "It'll be difficult for you to try anything on until we remove the clothes you already have on." Kissing the long neck, he laughs softly. "Which I can do all on my own unless you'd like to help."

Gren's neck gets another kiss as he pulls the shirt off and tosses it to the side. "So, am I undressing you myself...or are you helping?"

He was not expecting this: Lestat, who claims no sexual pleasure, following him into the dressing room and literally stripping this white shirt right off him? Seducing him right where he stands, with the sales clerk on the other side of the door? For his part, he's not much of an exhibitionist, thank you, but this is kind of a thrill.

There's no admonition, no warning, no how could you: he's made up his mind that Lestat gets what he wants in exchange for this... moment, and it's the kiss to his neck that sends shivers down his spine. Eyes closed, he steps out of his jeans and sets them aside, wonders if Lestat's hungry or, more like it, thirsty: would he do that here?

That stubborn heart of his remembers that it used to beat regularly and surprises him by doing it again now; his bare arms rest on Lestat's shoulders, his hands clasp together behind that sleek blond hair.

"Too bad you're not trying anything on. Then I could undress you too. I guess that's just going to have to wait till later."

He knows that his eyes are just glowing right now. It's more than the light causing it to happen too. Smiling easily, he trails his fingers along Gren's sides.

"Come now. How do you expect me to dress you with us entangled together? And if you wish to undress me so badly, we'll have to find something after these for me to try on. Just to give you the enjoyment."

Chuckling, he kisses Gren lightly. Then again. Then one more time for good measure.

"We won't get to that any faster though if we stand like this all night."

"Oh, I don't know." His tone's a little lofty, airy. "I was thinking of the kind of undressing you that doesn't get resolved for hours. This dressing room might be a little cramped for what I have in mind." If Lestat can do the third-time's-a-charm thing with kisses so can he: the first is adequate, the second barely a brush of lips against lips, but the third... the third is thorough: the way Lestat tastes is seductive and erotic; he drags his tongue across those teeth, those fangs, like he could coax them out of hiding with just the right degree of touch... and the kiss lasts just a little longer than expected because it's a really good one.

Really good.

And then he steps back.

"All right. What to try on first." His eyes go to the off-white linen shirt he first picked up and a pair of black trousers Lestat picked. "Black and white: very classic." He slips that shirt on, buttoning it slowly from the bottom up. The poor sales clerk waiting outside has to be amused out of his mind.

He crosses his arms in a mock huff after the third kiss ends. Now he wants more of those. Still, seeing Gren put on clothing like this is just as exciting. As he watches, his tongue slides over his teeth to feel where another had just been.

Tilting his head, he reaches out and stops the hands from getting the buttons all the way to the top. Moving over, he traces the way it accents Gren's neck. Yet, still makes him look so masculinely beautiful.

With a smile of approval, he nods to the pants.

"And now, let's see how those look on you."

For him, it's all about touch, about the contact, about the memory the contact stirs in him and every time Lestat's hands go to his neck he can't help but lean into them like he's the one who's hungry. He would give himself over to this so happily, but... no, he told Lestat he didn't want to be anyone's pretty toy and he meant it.

So why is he playing dress-up again?

Oh, right: memories of the other night come flooding back and he would do anything to please this man: no one's been as kind or considerate or accepting in so long and he loves that. Bad judge of character or not, he loves that. It's his drug and he'll do anything to get it.

Has love always been like that? He can't remember; he's too intoxicated by circumstance. And so he dresses, zips the pants, buttons the button, smooths them down. They're not a bad fit.

"There. What do you think?"

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