tampered | Log; Complete

Log; Complete

When; September 23rd
Rating; PG-13 (unlikely to be more)
Characters; Lestat

notapreacher
Summary; Once upon a time, the Brat Prince decided the musician needed more clothes...
Log; He's wearing a crimson shirt tonight with black slacks and polished boots. His hair is pulled back to better show off his still tanned skin. (It helped to feed more often so he'd made sure to the night before.) Normally, he'd add a pair of sunglasses to this outfit in his world. In the City though, there is little need for that. Glowing eyes are hardly the most unusual things here.

This time, he takes the stairs. It's so easy to do something like fly or move faster than the average human eye can follow. However, he enjoys to move at a normal pace every so often.

Arriving at Gren's door, he smiles. He's been looking forward to this since he first came up with the idea. More so since he extended the invitation. Knocking lightly, he crosses his arms to wait.

After the last greeting he got, he can't help but be curious about what will happen this time. Of course, they won't be staying in this time. He plans to keep that in mind. Whatever happens in the next few seconds.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"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?"

Chuckling, he steps back and looks Gren up and down several times. Simple but perfectly stunning. The fit will need to be adjust ever so slightly but that's an easy fix. Very slowly, he walks around him. All in all, it's a very good fit already.

He's very pleased with his choice.

"Beautiful..." His hands slip under the shirt and grab the waistband. Pulling him against his chest, his fingers exlore the waistband further. As if he's seeing if the fit is right. Really, he can come up with any excuse to get what he wants if he tries.

"A remarkably decent fit on you. It flatters your skin. Just as I expected." A quick stole kiss then he's somehow beyond the reach of those arms again.

"Should we continue?"

"Tease. Do you know what that does to me?"

It's written all over his face, plain as... day, only it's night. And he's glad he's already mostly nocturnal: it makes it easier to keep up with Lestat. Even if there are some things about him he doesn't want to know in great detail. Everything else makes that little concession worthwhile and anyway, he's no saint himself.

No one is.

From the three-piece suit (who wears vests any more?) to the actual tuxedo jacket to the silk shirts to the softest suede trousers, he has to admit that Lestat picked well: these are things he never would have looked at for himself and he likes them. He likes them as much as the more practical cotton and denim shirts that hide the way his chest is bound so effectively.

"See anything you like?" It's an echo back of Lestat's earlier have you found anything you like question, full of unspoken want, layered with this tension that's just delicious. Maybe he doesn't deserve to be this happy, but...

...but maybe he does.

He gives that question some thought. After all, he's seen so many things he likes. Some more than others. One in particular. Smiling lazily, he leans against the wall.

"You or your clothes? The former is certainly delcious with or without the latter." Isn't that the truth. Studying all of the clothes, he lingers on them before giving Gren a heated gaze far more lingering.

"You need your measurements taken now. That needs to get out of our way so we can wander the night again together. Perhaps I'll find another place I like." As if gliding across the floor, he goes to the door and has the clerk come in. The poor fellow. So completely under his control that he'll only remember the numbers from the measurements when this is done.

Nodding to Gren, he stands back as the young man starts explaining the various measurements he's taking. Completely ignoring an unique aspects of the body he's around as if he can't see them at all.

In the end, it all turns out to be a lot less intrusive than he feared: he may be all about touch with Lestat but it doesn't mean that extends to anybody else. It doesn't. Lestat may have awakened something in him, but it's between them and them alone.

And he's forgotten just how many measurements there are: front and back jacket length, vest length, chest, stomach, waist, hips, full shoulder, half shoulder, chest front, upper back, neck. Trouser length and inseam and front, thighs, cuff measurements. By the time he's done he definitely feels like some sort of dress-up doll but to the salesman's credit there's no surprise on his face, none at all, and the way the measuring tape skims so lightly over his chest is ultimately inconsequential.

He watches as everything's written down, recorded, and when it's just him and Lestat in the room again he lets out a little sigh of relief. Funny what kinds of things are objectionable to him now and what aren't, starting with the fact that the man sharing this with him is a killer. But that only makes two of them and he can't ask anyone to forgive in himself what he can't forgive in others. That would be crazy.

Almost as crazy as the nagging realization that there's something different about Lestat tonight. It's in his eyes: the way they keep undressing him, focusing on him. It's in his hands: the way they keep moving back to him. It's in his mouth: the way it settles into a smug and satisfied smile.

The change is kind of thrilling.

"And they say I never take care of those I care for." He laughs as the door finishes closing behind the still enchanted clerk. "Let that be proof for otherwise."

Still chuckling, he goes over to start undressing Gren all over again. Maybe he'll help him get back into his actual clothes too. He'll see what he feels like in a moment. "I think all of them can suit you at one time or another. In various combinations. We'll leave them in here and they'll take them for alterations. The finished products will be delivered to you in a couple days. Until then..."

Letting the shirt fall from his fingers, he pushes Gren against the wall. Light enough to cause no harm but hard enough to make sure he gets there. Then he presses himself to his musician as his hands move to help get rid of the pants as well. "...I want to have you only to myself for a few moments before I pay for things."

If this was anybody else, they'd be fighting for their lives right now for making a move like that. Prison was unkind to him and being shoved around par for the course. But this, he reminds himself as he shuts his eyes for an instant, isn't Pluto and aggressive as Lestat's being, he's still just... Lestat and no one else. Although the concept of just Lestat brings a little smile to his face.

This is a dangerous thrill, being in this position in a somewhat public place. His hands go to either side of Lestat's face; why should he stop Lestat undressing him? There's no reason. It has to happen anyway and this just makes it all so much more fun and because it's that much more fun he leans over to steal a kiss.

"You've got me all to yourself."

The possibilities are... endlessly delightful.

"Good. I've wanted you to be done with all of these clothes since that last kiss you gave me." The pants fall to the floor and he ignores them in favor of returning said kiss he got earlier.

Gren always tastes so...delicious. Like sin and virtue all rolled into one. There are so many paradoxes with this man. It's exciting to find out what they all are. And not finding them all out at once is even more exciting.

Pulling back barely, he licks his lips.

"You made me want more."

Oh, no, he doesn't get to pull away like that. Not now. Coaxing him closer again, Gren whispers against Lestat's mouth.

"What do you want more of?"

Anything he wants, anything he wants: it's his. No questions asked, no conditions put on it.

"Tell me."

There's not so much as an inch of space between them. The contact is way too delicious.

There's almost no need to coax him back. He comes forward with absolutely no hesitation. Taking in Gren's scent, he nips at his lower lip. Just because there is no need to coax him forward doesn't mean that he isn't going to do some coaxing as well.

"Come now, my shy musician. Give me more of that kiss from earlier. That tongue across my teeth. That intense exploration."

A hand tangles in Gren's hair as he adds some more whispered words to that.

"I want more of it."

That's easy: one hand snakes around to the back of Lestat's neck and the other runs restlessly over his hair as he closes in for the kiss: it's exotic and enticing and it's a good thing he doesn't have to breathe because he doesn't want to break contact.

So he doesn't: he takes his time and like he did last time, lets his tongue run across Lestat's tongue, his teeth, slower around those sharp, sharp fangs.

Finally, lazily, he pulls back. He can feel how liquid and bright his eyes are: he loves this.

"How was that, lover? Still want more?"

The kiss is returned fully and freely, his other hand settling on Gren's hip. There is that taste of sin and virtue again. Intoxicating...Addicting. And when they finally pull apart, his eyes open slowly.

Then he stops. That word. He loves the sound of it. From Anita...From Cloud...and now...

"Say that again. Call me that again."

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