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

"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.

He just loves that look. Just as much as he loves bringing it out into the open. It's just so breathtaking upon this face and in these eyes. And the thoughts that he's still hearing only enhance these moments. If he wished, he could cross all lines right here in this very moment.

But, where would the fun me in giving in so easily?

His hand dips down again to make an obvious threat of where the fingers plan to go eventually. Later though for now, he having fun publicly seducing his lover. And only parts of what he's doing are hidden the rest are for all to see. His kisses from chin to ear to neck to shoulder. Then his lips on that delicious pale wrist and up to the palm.

Each finger is given attention equally. He intends to make sure his lips touch every last bit of this beautiful hand.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he's aware of exactly what's going on, and he wonders so very idly what kind of laws there are in this city about this kind of thing, if any. But that's leftover worry from out there where he couldn't attract attention to himself because of the bounty on his head.

It doesn't apply and even if it did he wouldn't care: he's way too distracted. This is a little bit of an exhibitionist's dream and he's anything but, and at the same time he's dangerously close to becoming one. If he liked the way he is a little less -- or does he mean a little more? -- he might do to Lestat exactly what's being done to him. but he's the way he is, and somebody loves him for it.

He doesn't need to be any different.

There are some things he'll only do in private and he'll do them any time now. It's just that he's in love with the way everything feels; it's all so good.

Even though people are staring. He turns and holds Lestat and presses tiny kisses to his neck. Oh, there's so much he wants, and he wants it soon.

He tilt his head to provide more neck to be kissed. Reaching around, he pulls Gren fully onto his lap. His hips aren't straddled but now it's much easier to seduce him.

All his life he's loved to be watched. Even during the times when he was blending in so completely that no one would see him, he dared someone to. Anyone. He loves to be seen. Admiration isn't required. In fact, hatred has been known to amuse him. The only thing he wants is for someone to look at him. The extension of that is to want someone to touch him. Admiration may not be required but that doesn't mean he doesn't want it and hunger for it.

Affectionate touch. He hadn't realized he wanted it until Gren had first touched him that way.

Turning his head, he catches those tempting lips against his own again. Only briefly. The real touches that he could be getting from Gren will not happen until they are truly alone.

"I want to take you home. Now."

Apparently he's not the only one enjoying this.

"Please do."

He doesn't mind leaving the other people at this club hungry for more, but there's one couple who are going to be satisfied. Not right here, not right this minute, but in the privacy of one of their homes and soon.

And he echoes Lestat's last word, as if it needs to be done.

"Now."

As usual, his long arms wrap around Gren's body and he kisses his eyes closed. The last things anyone in the club sees are the coins left behind to pay for the soda. Through the shadows of the Underground, he moves until they are out in the fresh air above. Even then he doesn't stop.

Not until he's standing before the apartment they were at earlier with key in hand. Unlocking it, he lets them inside and closes the door behind him. Locking it again, he carries Gren all the way to the bedroom where he lays him down then straddles him.

"Mm. In case you haven't noticed...we're here. And I know what you're wearing under this shirt and it needs to come off. Preferably quickly."

He can do that: he's got three years of experience with this and in a flash, the material binding his chest is gone, forgotten in a pile on the floor. All night long -- even before he left for work, never mind while he was there or walking home -- he's been thinking about Lestat. About when they'd be together again. Over the years he taught himself not to expect much from other people: they would want to use him and leave him and so he learned not to trust.

But oh, he trusts this man. He trusts him with his life, such as it is here, and that hasn't proved to be a bad thing at all. Lestat's handled him with kid gloves from the start, and he thinks he could get used to being pampered and cared for. And he knows what happens next and the very thought of it brings a flush to his skin and the familiar phrase I want you, I want you, I want you monopolizes his thoughts.

Everything they've done and everything that's happened tonight has brought them to this moment and he only has one thing to say.

"It's about time."

"You have no idea."

Expert fingers remove the jacket Gren's wearing followed quickly by his shirt. He's been waiting for this this since he woke up at sunset. More so since he let himself into this apartment. Into his other home. The last time he'd slept here, the darkened room had been perfect.

He thinks he'll stay again tonight. For these activities that are so human that he can't every get enough of them.

"You were so much bolder in public down there. I loved it. So unlike the typical you in so many ways."

Fair is fair: those fingers that play saxophone so deftly make short work of Lestat's shirt; he's been eager for that little task. And now it's his turn to let his hands play over the skin of this beautiful, beautiful body that nobody else has bothered to cherish for over 200 years. He's human to a fault and knows it and doesn't feel the need to trade his humanity for anything.

"You're my favorite drug." That's all there is to it and he means it absolutely. "You free me."

Ironically, he feels alive for the first time since Pluto and that makes him bold: stepping forward, he puts his arm around Lestat's waist and pulls him close for a kiss like so many of the ones they shared while they were in the Underground.

And he won't stop there. They have hours before dawn, and he intends to make the best possible use of every last minute.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Log: Complete

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject