tampered | Log: Complete

Log: Complete

When; Very early Friday morning 10/24
Rating; PG13
Characters; Lestat (

notapreacher)
Summary; Going underground.
Log; It's well past midnight by the time he gets home from the club. The nights are cooler now and one of these days he's going to have to get himself a winter jacket. If he has his say in the matter it will be like the one he had on Callisto: long and wool and warm but easy to move in. That was a good coat, dammit, and he should have had it with him. But he was a little too fixated on what was going on with Vicious and the whole red-eye business and I'll send a woman and revenge to think about practicalities. Except somewhere in the back of his mind he was; he had the presence of mind to have his sax and a few necessities with him on his spacecraft... for all the good it did him. What was he going to do, bring music to the battle-weary sands of Titan?

Maybe. Now that the war was over they were experimenting there instead of Pluto. Word filtered through -- it always does -- and he figured... what did he figure? Something about how he wouldn't be the only one, the only experiment gone wrong, that he'd be in a place (bleak as it was) where he'd fit in. So much for that idea. He never would have made it to begin with.

It's probably time to take those Titan pictures down off the wall, but he goes back and forth on that every time he looks at them: Titan's part of his story, part of who he was, part of who he is. Even if Vicious isn't here any more and like he told Lin, he's got mixed feelings about that, but... how long will he be holding on to the past? It's stupidly difficult to let go of. Turning the key in the lock he steps in only to find dim lights on, the windows open, and soft music coming from the general direction of his computer.

What a nice surprise. Setting down his sax case carefully, he closes the door and smiles.

"Hi."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It might just be a fact that out of all the people he knows, Lestat laughs the most. It's a pretty wonderful thing to see and an even better thing to be able to appreciate, and he can't not join in after that kind of reaction. That it's all sealed with a kiss makes him wonder exactly what pearl of wisdom he just dropped, but he'll take it. He has his moments.

"Oh, they don't trouble me. Everyone's entitled to their own opinion. He was just so serious about it."

It occurs to him then that he judges people by how much music they have in their souls. Lestat, he knows, is an entire symphony, filled to overbrimming with it and the music is surprisingly beautiful and melodic. Julia has music of a softer, more subtle variety but it's there if you listen. Abby has it in spades, and Machi's is a little conservative and regimented, and Lin's music is a cacophony of sound, disjointed and extreme but there nonetheless. Vicious... well, he thought there was music there but he thinks not, after all, although it might have been trying to escape. Marius is somewhere down there closer to the bottom. It's like the music is there but it's been turned off. Even Armand, he thinks, has significantly more.

"And I'm glad I made you laugh. I've never been under the illusion that just because someone's lived longer than me they automatically deserve to be thought of as wiser. That's bullshit too. People are too complex to categorize that way."

What he feels most badly about when he thinks of Armand and Marius and Louis and all those vampires is that they seem to wear this heavy mantle of staid sadness, as if their immortal eyes have seen enough to make them so tired of it all. They're lacking in passion.

Lestat's different. There's a light in his eyes and a beauty in the fierce way he enjoys everything that's so very nearly childlike that it's refreshing. He's so full of life.

"Here, tell me what I'm thinking." The look he gives Lestat is a pointedly open invitation.

I absolutely adore you. The world is a much better place with you in it, and I don't know how I managed without you.

Without waiting to be asked, he takes another sip of his drink and shares it. There's something so liberating about being this open in public, and he loves it.

At first, the thoughts make him pause. They're new and he can't stop hearing them. He knows that he's adored. That's a fact that he's always known. But the world is better because of him? Gren doesn't know how he managed without him? There is a devotion that he's not fully used to. And...it's making him fall for Gren further.

With the hint of lemon still fresh on his tongue, he smiles as it all sinks in.

"You absolutely adore me. The world is a much better place with me in it, and you don't know how you managed without me."

The words are said loud enough to be heard but only just. He doesn't want them said any louder. They should just remain between them. Lost to anyone else.

"Let's forget about Marius and the others. They are all so serious it could kill them if weren't for the fact that they are immortal."

"Marius who."

It's not just any vampire who can steal his heart. He was attracted to Lestat from the start, before he had a chance to be dazzled by his speed and agility and mind-reading skills and finesse and supreme competence at everything he does. No, there was something immediately intriguing and really, if he thinks about it Lestat is his type: tall and fair-haired and pale-eyed and confident and powerful and he's never claimed not to be a creature of habit.

And he doesn't have to think about that now because here they are. And in some ways -- when Lestat speaks so softly -- it's like they're wrapped in their own impenetrable little cocoon and no one can interrupt: not the couple who dances right into their table, not the server looking to see if they need a refill, not the guy who's been lingering with that hey, how about it, you two? look on his face just this side of the shadows, not the pickpocket in the corner. Not even the music, really, although it's a glorious undertone to the whole affair.

With utter fondness, he runs his hand over Lestat's hair. "Look what I've got." His hand slips into his pocket and comes up with the camera he hasn't told Lestat about yet.

A camera? When did he get that? And such a fine one too. Someone obviously helped him. Probably Abby. She's quite the expert when it come to technology. He only needed a short glimpse into her mind to see that. The term for it was 'technogeek' if he recalled correctly.

Leaning forward, he gets a closer look at the camera.

"When did you get this beautiful piece of technology? I assume it was Abby that aided you in finding it, of course. She seems the most likely suspect for such a thing."

He slides even closer. He can see the camera just fine at a distance even in the dim light. But, he can't resist the simple task of looking closer. The fact that it's an added excuse to be closer to Gren is wonderful as well.

"I do not recall you having a camera in your possession before."

Being able to surprise Lestat is so much fun.

"I got it a few days ago. Horatio and Apolline helped. They were very convincing when it came time to keep the salesman's prices in line." Handing over the camera for inspection, he smirks a little bit. "You wanted to know what kind of camera took those pictures in low lighting so well. This is the same kind of camera Abby used. She went with us to pick it out."

He's immensely pleased with himself. "Now I can have my own pictures of you on the wall. I think we should try it out, don't you?"

"This is the type of camera she was using?"

So, Gren had bought the camera when he'd gone out with the dogs. And had kept it to himself for several days. He couldn't help but to be impressed by that. The offer that follows the story brings the smile back to his lips. After all, that is an absolutely brilliant idea.

"We should. I would love to see me up on the wall. However, I want the chance to take pictures of you as well."

Ah, there's that vanity he loves so much on Lestat: he wears it so evidently on his sleeve for everyone to see. Of course he would love to see himself up on the wall; it will fill him with satisfaction.

"That sounds fair to me. Want me to show you how this works, or would you rather figure it out for yourself?" He's easy either way and really doesn't want to take the fun out of it. Lestat's got such innate curiosity and really seems to get a kick out of figuring out how things work -- that he'd figured out the computer and the music program on it was a surprise -- and he's so much fun to watch.

"I thought it would be fun to have something like this for us to share."

There isn't even a moment of hesitation before he's shaking his head. "I want to figure out how to use it for myself."

One thing about being who he is, is that he'll figure it out quickly then never forget how to use it. It is one of his gifts. To have an understanding of how technology functions. Plus, he's always been curious about the way technology has changed through the ages. He still remembers days when cameras looked nothing like this. Now they are small and compact.

It's just fascinating.

"I like having this new thing for us to share."

That's exactly the choice he thought would be made; he nods and reaches for his soda. "It's all yours, then."

For now, at least, and once Lestat figures it out -- which will happen in a matter of moments, he's sure -- he's welcome to take as many pictures as he wants. The memory card has room for almost a thousand of the things, or so the instruction manual said.

"As long as I'm your first and best subject." He's teasing; there aren't any conditions on the camera's use. Sometimes, though, it's nice to feel important.

"What a delicious subject you will be too."

Taking the camera, he turns it over a couple times in his hand. It's turned off currently but this symbol here means...Ah, there. Now it is turned on. He doesn't need the flash so to turn that off probably means...There. No more flash. The button for taking the picture is generally located...here. What is this button though? Oh! He can view the pictures he takes? How delightful.

He flips it back to the other function then takes a quick picture of Gren without warning him. Switching back to the viewing side, he smiles at what he captured. Gren sitting there relaxed with the soda held in his hand. A little smile toying at his lips.

"Beautiful." Turning the camera to Gren, he continues smiling. "Look."

Any excuse to get that close is a good one; he laughs at the picture he sees. "Lestat, you're a natural." And because he's so close -- right here -- he gets a kiss pressed to the side of his face. His skin's so warm tonight.

It's almost enough to make a man envious. But there's no cause for jealousy when he knows that warmth will be shared with no small amount of delight. As far as he's concerned, Lestat can keep playing with this new toy of theirs to his heart's content... and he's got a very big heart. It's so sweet to see the smile on his face.

"Let me know when you want to switch and I'll take a turn too."

He's going to need to get a printer. Next month, maybe, when he has some money again. For now, he doesn't have a single regret about spending what he did have on this. Even if it only makes Lestat smile this one time, it's worth every last coin.

"Then take your turn. That picture of Abby on your desktop must have been taken by you. Or, that was my assumption when I saw it."

And because he wants to see the pictures that Gren will take. The prospect of having pictures of himself up on that wall of pictures is thrilling. Being among those memories. He isn't even paying attention the way this is brushing his ego.

"I want to see the pictures you take."

It's a touch demanding but ever since the appearance of this camera, he has been feeling eager.

"The one of her in the water? I took that the first time we went to the beach. She didn't know I was taking it: we were out in the water, about so deep, sitting on some rocks and I said I'd race her back to shore, but instead... well, I wanted to take her picture. For obvious reasons, I didn't want to get that wet right then, so... I think she forgave me when she saw the picture, though. She likes it, and I'm pretty fond of it too."

There are no guarantees it will be replaced by a picture of Lestat, but he's not making any decisions on anything now. Holding the camera up to his eye, he looks through the viewfinder at a few different things around the club, zooming in and out, slowly turning back to their very own table, to the man waiting expectantly to have his picture taken.

"Lestat. You're beautiful. Have I told you that enough tonight?"

Now it's time: click.

That smile is captured perfectly.

His smile grows as he sits back and stretches out his legs. Doing so further entangles them with Gren's but he hardly minds that. He doubts Gren minds either. The curve of this booth is just perfect for them. Long legs and all.

He'll take a look at the picture in a second.

"No. I don't think you've told me enough yet. Tell me again. I love it when you tell me I'm beautiful."

Laughing, he leans forward to catch sight of the picture that was taken.

When Lestat leans forward he grabs his hand, squeezes it, presses the camera into it. They're both such suckers for compliments but Lestat's even more of one than he is and it makes him laugh.

"You are. In fact, you're my very own angel, and you're beautiful and I love you and I'll take pictures of you all night long if it makes you happy. I'll take enough pictures to plaster the walls with your image."

He will, too. It's his apartment and he can do whatever he wants there. It really might be time to take those Titan pictures down after all.

Or at least one of them. It's become irrelevant. And what, he wonders, are they doing sitting in a club when they could be at home together? It doesn't matter which home: he just wants a taste of what they do. Leaning forward, he lingers over a kiss to the spot just behind Lestat's ear. And after that, he might just decide to work his way lower, down that beautiful neck and it doesn't matter if they're in public: a sort of recklessness washes over him and he does exactly what he wants.

This boldness that Gren is showing in public is exciting. He's been trying to excite things like out of him and then he brings him here and his love is suddenly abandoning all thoughts about who might be watching. Two can be bold in public though.

Grabbing Gren's shirt, he pulls him closer. Contact with this man is just beyond delicious.

It's in public too. There are at least three people watching that he's actually paid attention to. And Gren is ignoring them all.

"An angel? I believe I already labeled you with that one."

With one hand, turns the camera around to catch a picture of what is being done to him. Looking at it, he smiles. He loves that picture.

It's the subtle click of the camera that brings him back to his senses in a what am I doing? sort of way. The answer is having fun: smiling lazily, he rests his arms around Lestat's neck and nestles against him. "You were right. You're completely intoxicating."

He's flushed with this delicious infatuation; he can't keep his hands off Lestat although that's nothing new. But doing it in public and of his own volition? That's something different and for tonight, he likes it. It's the venue, he tells himself. The fact that they're in an entirely different part of the city: he wouldn't do this at Lux where he represents the club and has to at least try to maintain an air of professionalism. But here there are no such constraints and he's having the time of his... yeah, he can use that word: life.

"Maybe I should just call you a prince. Leave off the brat part. That works too."

"A prince? How...flattering." Chuckling, he looked over at the man and snapped yet another picture. He could have entirely too much fun with this camera. Entirely. Kissing him once more, he shows him the picture.

"The angel and the prince. And the angel has learned something new tonight."

His free hand seems to have vanished from sight and reappears around the slender waist with fingers brushing at the skin under the fabric. This is his lover. He's staking that claim now for the audience watching them currently. The word mine flashes through his mind. Several times over.

"The angel has learned how to shed his wings completely to be side-by-side with the prince."

The imagery, as poetic as it is, forces a grin onto his face. "Wings are overrated. They only get in the way when you try to stretch. You could put someone's eye out with those things." He's never called himself an angel; he knows better. But he loves it when Lestat uses that pet name for him.

"You know." He taps his lower lip thoughtfully. "Prince has so many connotations. From an Earth-based rock star to the heroes of fairy tales, I'm not so sure that's unique enough for you. I'll think of the perfect thing eventually. Sometimes it takes me a while." He likes how Marishka's turned Brat Prince into Prince Brat -- the meaning is more than a little different -- but none of the usual terms of endearment feel good enough for Lestat although he is tempted to call him baby just to see what happens.

Not right now, though. Right now there are hands on his skin and that's such a distraction he's not sure what to do about it, if anything. It's fun to flirt and tease in public and he knows it's going to happen whether he approves of it or not... but he does. He can never get enough of this man. Never. He's the best addiction ever and now he feels that happy flare of anticipation deep inside and lets his eyes close, but just for a minute. He doesn't want to miss anything.

"Why bother with wings when I can fly without them and carry you with me?" Leaning in, he brushes kisses along Gren's jaw until he gets to his ear where he can whisper. "As for a name...take all the time you need. Just hearing your words of flattery is enough to make me hungry for all that you have to offer and more."

He nips at his ear before pulling back. The smile on his face has a wicked, mischievous twist to it. It hints at everything he could do but somehow manages to suggest nothing. All the while, his fingers have managed to slip under Gren's shirt to tease the skin they find there.

Mostly, he's curious to see how bold Gren still is. He's having fun with this. The mention of the name, the teasing between them, all of it. He doubts he'll manage to get enough of it any time soon.

There's something to be said for self-sufficiency, but flight has never been his specialty. Only once, and he doesn't wish to repeat the circumstances of his escape from Pluto. Luckily he doesn't have to: Lestat's behavior is enough of a distraction and those kisses and his whispered words and the fingers playing against his skin are sultry and exciting and beyond pleasurable.

This man of his really is entirely shameless; he tilts his head a little to expose more neck. Two can play at the temptation game. And now it's his turn to lean over and whisper in Lestat's ear.

"How many people are watching us?" He stopped counting the minute he felt the hand under his shirt. "Which ones, and what are they thinking?" He knows Lestat's paying absolute attention to what's going on around them. He always does and, most likely, always will.

If that isn't an open invitation, then nothing is. Kissing the exposed neck, he continued his whispers. Those questions amuse him.

"Six currently. The one lurking in the shadows nearby. He wishes us to notice him and invite him to join. His boyfriend dumped him earlier so he is looking for company. The couple dancing closest to us. They are getting ideas for later in the evening. The young woman with all of the jewels at the bar area. She is practically moaning from watching us. She finds the two of us to be an erotic view and can't tear her eyes away."

He kisses Gren's neck again.

"The old man behind the bar. He keeps looking at us and smiling. Young long is so sweet and he loves it when couples as happy as us come here. And finally, the punk goth girl in the corner. She is also getting ideas. Mostly she wonders if the way I tease you would be pleasing to her lover."

One more kiss then he laughs softly.

"Everyone else is too distracted."

Like me, he wants to say: his neck is more sensitive now than it used to be and he assumes that's for the obvious reasons, but when Lestat kisses him there, he...

"I'm not interested in sharing you with anybody. Especially not that man in the shadows." There might have been a time when he would have liked the concept, but that was a long time ago. And now... well, now Lestat's putting on a show for their audience and it's entirely voyeuristic but if he could hear those thoughts, he'd probably be doing the same thing. Until this relationship he never really thought that this kind of thing could be such an enhancement. It's altogether great and terribly bad at the same time, and that's what makes it so much fun.

And every time Lestat's hand moves beneath his shirt, he knows he's flushing and he can't help grinning, and he rests against his lover's chest and wonders for the umpteenth time why he's doing this and in the same breath knows he can't not do it: he feels enchanted, seduced. Like a prize that wants to be shown off and while he told Lestat early on that he didn't just want to be anyone's pretty toy, he doesn't have any objections to that being a part of the relationship.

If they're going to put on a show, they might as well put on a show: he turns and whispers a single word into Lestat's ear so quietly that nobody else can possibly overhear. "More."

The utter love for that word and the man saying it is all over his face. He doesn't need to be told twice. Gren just gave him permission to continue this show. Knowing that they have an audience he gave permission. True, he would have continued anyways but somehow it's better now that Gren is aware of those watching.

The hand not under his shirt turns that pale face to him once more. Pressing their lips together, he gives him a heated kiss that has every intention of having his lover melt into his arms. He's done these before and has always been pleased with the results he gets from him.

His other hand teases first higher then dangerously lower. The action is repeated before the tips of his fingers disappear below Gren's pants only to retreat back out seconds later.

Taking Gren's lower lip lightly between his teeth, he drags his tongue across it. A moment only though because then he has their lips sealed together again to continue the kiss he'd already begun.

Oh, fuck: he did ask for it. He's absolute butter in Lestat's capable hands: his eyes close and every second of this kiss is memorized, categorized, labeled, enjoyed. If they were at home, his fingers would be unbuttoning buttons in a pretty feverish way but they're not and he has to maintain some modicum of decency and that's why this type of play is so much fun: he knows Lestat will push every boundary out there, and he won't or can't let on about it, and it's that back and forth, the almost but not quite secret knowledge about what's going on that makes it so tantalizing.

He's so grateful for that superhuman speed. All he has to do is say the word and Lestat will have them out of here. And that knowledge is as heady and exciting as anything: one moment they can be here and the next they can be at home, and that's what lets him agree to be pushed as close to the edge as possible.

When that kiss ends, he looks at Lestat through eyelids so heavy with desire that his blue eyes look nearly black. Around them, the world could be falling apart and he probably wouldn't even notice. He does, however, have the good sense to reach for their camera and pocket it. He doesn't need pictures of this: he's greedy and wants to keep it all for himself.

Log: Complete

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