tampered | Log: Completed

Log: Completed

When; Late night, December 17
Rating; R
Characters; Lestat (

notapreacher)
Summary; There's a sudden lack of zombie activity, but there's still blood everywhere.
Log; Pace, pace, pace: Abby must be so sick of his pacing because she excuses herself to the kitchen. He can hear pots and pans banging around in there and she must be having fun with it all. For his part he's too unhappy to eat. What Lestat's out there doing is stupidly dangerous and he loves him for it.

It's Horatio standing up that first alerts him to the fact someone's approaching down the hall; the Colt is in his hand so quickly and if his heart still beat on its own it would literally be pounding to match the zombies trying in vain to get through their windows. So far the inside of the building has been free of them -- for the most part -- but caution's still the best course to follow. Lestat's been given permission to read his thoughts during this whole curse any time he's gone out; he sends him a message now on their own mostly private one-way network.

Lestat. If that's you, knock at the bottom of the door four times when you get close enough. Down low.

Horatio cocks his head, looks toward the lowest part of the door. As promised, towels are ready and a robe is waiting and the bath is drawn. All he wants is his partner back here safely and he's prepared to see him drenched in blood. In fact, he expects it. He expects to see it covering him from head to toe.

Fucking zombies.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"You'd better get these clothes off too. You're wearing too much." Not before he trails kisses along Gren's jaw. "It will be easier to get at the rest of your skin that way."

Chuckling, he starts attacking those buttons and only restraint keeps him from tearing them off. His lips move to one bare shoulder. "I like this flavor. And it's all over you."

This time he laughs as he goes back to stripping his lover until they are both standing there naked. That's much better. Smiling, he takes Gren's hands in his to guide him to the bath. He's not done tasting him yet but he was also promised that bath as well as a hair wash.

"Come here with me. I think we've been hit by another curse of sorts."

"Hmm." He's having a hard time not laughing over this one: he'll take tasting like chocolate mint over being at risk of infection and turned into a zombie any day. As they step into the bath together -- he wasn't lying when he told Abby that bathing with Lestat was really fun -- he's still smiling slyly.

"For you tonight and in honor of this latest curse, I think the peppermint shampoo's in order. Turn around."

The only real blood left is in Lestat's hair; that's got to go. Personally he doesn't mind blood. It doesn't make him feel faint or want to throw up or any of that stuff. He doesn't want to drink it but his lover does, and that's what it is. It's how he survives, so there's no point in being against it. Still, he'd rather not be bathing in it. There was a woman, a countess somewhere on Earth in eastern Europe, he thinks, who slaughtered young girls and bathed in their blood because she thought it would keep her young.

How convenient he's got another solution to that whole aging problem.

The shampoo smells like Lestat tastes and he's so glad to have this zombie thing over and done with: he could cry tears of happiness.

He's going to smell all of those bottles one of these nights. After all, he had no idea there was peppermint shampoo here. The scent of it is one he likes though and it clings to the air. Breathing it in, he leans into the touches to his hair.

"I like that shampoo. It smells nice. Something I have smelled before but I never grow tired of it." Once his hair is done being washed, he will go back to what he was doing before.

Tasting Gren.

Chocolate mint. He likes that flavor. That's something he decided the moment Gren kissed him. And his own skin tastes like peppermint. Clearly that is a flavor that is approved of.

Looking over his shoulder, he smiles wickedly at Gren.

"You realize that I will take full advantage of this curse, correct?"

"You realize that I will?"

It's better than mistletoe, better than zombies by far. Better than the ice cream curse but mostly because he didn't know what to do with that one; he was so new here. But now he's more used to this place, more comfortable in the City, immeasurably more comfortable in his own skin. He's stopped thinking of himself as a freak most of the time.

It's easy to do now that he's so very loved. He's always been fortunate to have the support he's had here. Julia's been a complete godsend, and Abby's been great. But neither of them are his lover, his partner. Something he thought he'd never have again.

The peppermint shampoo, when he uses it, makes his scalp tingle. It's nice every once in a while. To him, it smells like Christmas which was always his favorite time of year when he was little. It was so exciting, and he was spoiled by his mother. After his falling out with the Church the holiday lost a little -- no, a lot -- of its glow, and he hasn't celebrated it in years. They don't have a tree here, no ornaments, nothing of that sort. And he and Lestat have already exchanged gifts; he doesn't need to celebrate the actual day itself.

Tonight, though, they have every reason to celebrate. Not only are the zombies gone and with them the risk of infection, but it's shaping up to be a very flavorful night.

Gently, he takes Gren's hand in his and kisses his wrist. Still so very delicious. He's going to be having far too much fun with this curse. A pity it will be interrupted for a little while so he can sleep. But, he doesn't mind since Gren is his again once the sun sets.

"Are you almost done? It feels and smells nice but I'm ready to tackle you now."

He means that exactly as it came out. Kissing the wrist one more time, he releases it but then he looks over his shoulder again. That smile is still there and his eyes show that he's starting to get ideas for how he can handle this curse. A great many ideas. Slowly, he licks his upper lip before turning back.

"Hurry and I'll show you."

Well.

Because of that demand, he slows everything down. "Just rinsing out the shampoo. Close your eyes." Slowly, he dips the cup into the water and slowly, the water trickles over Lestat's hair. He repeats the whole thing two times, three, four, until there's no shampoo left.

He does have an ulterior motive; the longer he stays in this bath, the warmer he'll be. He doesn't mind being dead because it's what brought him here, but he gets tired of being cold all the time.

Finally he leans forward, presses a kiss to one tanned shoulder.

Peppermint.

"Now I'm done."

(They should tell Abby the zombies are gone.)

Frowning, he turns and straddles Gren's legs. "You did that intentionally slow." Then he seals their lips together as if to drag more of that wonderful chocolate mint flavor into his mouth.

Would the blood taste like the skin? That's a question that should be answered. Preferrably sooner. Leaning back, he takes Gren's hand and gently pricks the tip of one finger. The wounded finger then goes into his mouth and he starts to gently suck at it.

Blood laced with chocolate mint.

Smiling around the finger, he looks at his lover. He already loves where this is going.

A lot.

He wasn't expecting that: his flinch is entirely unintentional. It just startled him, that's all, and he watches Lestat taste his blood as if it's something new, something differe...

Oh.

Without saying a word, he smiles in a way he only ever does for his partner. No words are needed. His free hand wraps around Lestat's body; his own lips find skin of their own to taste. His neck, he thinks.

It isn't every day his lover tastes like candy.

He tilts his head to the side so Gren can get to his neck more easily. This is almost like a game. His approval is entirely unnecessary for it even if he gives it anyways. Healing the little prick to the finger, he licks his lips. Only a small amount was taken.

And he's ready for more.

Moving to Gren's wrist, he kisses it. No bites there. Only kisses. Slow kisses to freely taste every inch of skin.

He could really come to love chocolate mint by the time this is all said and done.

It would be overstating the obvious to tell Lestat how good he is at the art of slow seduction. He doesn't need to: it shows all over his face and he knows it. Every time Lestat's mouth moves, his own eyes close and he savors this. Savors every moment of it. Opens his eyes again, steals a kiss of his own, and then it starts all over again.

He loves this. It's designed to drive him crazy with desire and it works. It's a distraction, a blessing, an intimacy, their own private way of sharing. It works like a charm every single time.

Further up Gren's arm he goes until he reaches his shoulder. And from there his neck until he reaches his jaw then onwards to his lips. The curse has just begun but he refuses to waste any time. He meant it when he said that he was going to take advantage of this curse.

Pulling his lover's lower lip between his teeth, he licks slowly. Soon after, he's diving into another passionate kiss.

He might already love the flavor.

They really should tell Abby the zombies are gone and the curse is over. The problem with that line of thinking is that he's a little distracted right now and he doesn't think moving, walking, or talking are viable options.

Not when he's being kissed by the one he loves like he's the only other person that ever existed. It's so rich and indulgent and he likes to think it would happen whether or not his skin tastes like chocolate mint, but at the moment he doesn't know and doesn't care.

This dance of theirs is done to music that only the two of them can hear.

He pulls back from the kiss with a playful smile. "Why, my beautiful angel, you look like you're greatly enjoying yourself." Laughing, he dips down and flicks the tip of his tongue along Gren's throat.

Indulging Gren has become one of his favorite passtimes. He receives such wonderful reactions from it. Laughing against his skin, he looks up.

"Does that mean I shouldn't stop?"

Almost imperceptibly, he shakes his head.

As if he's got any control at all over what he's doing, his hands go to either side of Lestat's face and he pulls him forward for -- to use his lover's terminology -- a taste. Peppermint candy cane: it's so sweet. It's so exotic. It's so delicious.

It's so incongruous. He's got a love/hate relationship with this city, but tonight... tonight it's all love.

"Don't you dare stop."

This is almost as good as when Gren tasted like sugar. Grinning, he tilts his head innocently. Even he can manage that look. Despite the fact that he is anything but innocent.

"As you wish. I will not stop."

That deserves to be sealed with another kiss. He gives in to that easily.

"Because you told me not to so nicely."

If he was less hungry for Lestat he would laugh aloud at that pronouncement. At the moment he's preoccupied and feels like a big cat: sly and sleek and predatory, and he knows what he wants and he knows where it is. And like any good cat, he wants to play with his prize.

It's his turn: a taste here, a taste there. Lips, neck, left shoulder, right hand. This is too much fun and he's already addicted, craves more.

(They really ought to tell... oh, forget it.)

He could do this all night. In fact, that is an excellent idea. All night long. He wonders if Gren will go to work tomorrow night. Well, he'll come to that later. Presently, he's a little bit busy.

And his desire to drink blood is still toying with his mind. Especially after tasting the way Gren's is laced with a different flavor. Leaning in, he nips at the pale neck to spill a few droplets on his lips before healing it. Licking the blood from his lips, he hums his approval before nipping again for the same process.

He attacks pleasure points on the neck as he does so. The last thing he wants is for Gren to not enjoy what he's doing when he is.

Oh.

It's a good thing he's sitting down, because he's completely and utterly useless at the moment. He melts against Lestat's body as if he's a stick of butter in the hot sun. Because they still have a house guest he tries to be perfectly quiet, but he's got the sneaking suspicion -- when he's capable of rational thought at all -- that it's a losing proposition. A tiny whispered aaah escapes: it's a good thing he doesn't have to explain this to anyone.

He wouldn't. It's their business and no one else's, and to say he loves this kind of play is way too much of an understatement.

This is bliss.

Loving the reactions he gets, he smiles as he licks more of the blood off his lips. He'll have to remember this for after the curse. The fact that Gren likes these little bloody kisses. A good thing since he loves giving them.

Several more nips follow before he decides to try another place. Kissing his downwards, he stops just above the line of the water and reaches for Gren's hand. Lifting it to his lips, he starts the same attentions there. Little kisses with tiny nips. Enough to spill a few droplets of blood and nothing more before they are healed.

He licks his lips again as he smiles playfully at the man he's still straddling.

If this was anyone but Lestat, he'd be feeling a little bit like a pincushion. But he doesn't; this is almost immorally exotic and so, so private and he loves it without reservation.

He did promise he was going to take equal advantage of this curse; Lestat can't have all the fun. It's just... just... he takes in a deep breath. These are like butterfly kisses: sweet and soft and sensual, and the anticipation is unbelievable.

Lestat knows how to make everything new every time. When he was told earlier to expect a bloody mess, he offered up a change of clothes and a hot bath to soothe. He never expected it to be turned around the way it has been... but he should have. He's never known anyone more generous and giving.

Chocolate mint laced blood. It would be easy to let that stain his lips. Let that blood sink in. Instead, he catches every drop with his tongue and offers a mischievous smile. Like an eager child who hasn't finished his playtime yet.

When the last drop is on his tongue, he lightly traces Gren's lips with the tips of his fingers. Another tempting tease. His lover always melts into the touches he gives. He loves that.

"Do you need a moment to clear your mind, angel?"

Laughing, he brushes a kiss against the lips he was just tracing. He wasn't expecting a curse when he came home. But now, he couldn't care less about what he had been expecting.

"I might give it to you. But you taste so delicious I might not be able to give it to you. You're clouding my mind."

"I only need you." Whether or not his mind is clouded doesn't really matter. There's some small danger with what they're doing, but isn't all of life a risk anyway?

It's why he's here, and when those lips brush his he leans into them with such hunger and determination, and...

(peppermint)

...there's something about the bath and the night and the relief he feels with the whole zombie thing being done that's left him reckless and happy and excited. The first night they stayed together -- at least he thinks it was that night -- he told Lestat he wished the night would never end. Now he wants that same thing every night and it's not just because of moments like this; that would be awfully shallow of him. No, it's because of everything his partner is. The whole combination is absolutely beautiful.

He can't live without it. Not any more.

A shared hunger. Threading his fingers through long hair, he leans into Gren's body. In this kiss, he's careful not to draw blood. He may love the taste of it but he thinks that it wouldn't be appreciated if he were to taste from lip or tongue. He'll leave such tastes to his attacks on Gren's skin.

Eager and full of want, he moves his hands down to explore. His mouth will get there later.

He feels hungry. And whether it is for blood or Gren, he can't say. What he does know is that while Gren's blood won't feed him, he does want it. Letting out an impatient groan, he moves down to the chest he loves.

Little pricks here and there. Small droplets coat his lips again. Each little wound is healed soon after it is made but this is so sinfully wonderful and delicious. And sin is such an attractive thing. Go ahead and let there be a God. He'll spit in his face now because he's enjoying himself too much to stop.

"My...beautiful...angel..."

The rational part of him asks questions like what are you doing, Lestat? and where are you going with this? But the part of him too infused with passion silences that voice, locks it away and just lets this thing happen: whatever he does, wherever he goes next, there's an underlying promise of no harm.

He trusts that. Even if they've never done this kind of thing before: it's what Lestat wants and needs. And now... now he stops analyzing and just...

Floats. Without even remembering how they got there, he sees his hands tangled in a sea of blond hair.

Pleasure points. He can find them all. After so many years of living, he locate each one and manipulate it to his benefit. Or, in this case, for the pleasure of himself and Gren. Licking blood away from his lips, he slides himself back up to that long pale neck.

Only a little bit. He won't take as much as he usually does.

Slowly, he sinks his teeth in. Just a little bit. It's a mantra now. A little bit. Half of what he usually takes.

A little bit.

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