tampered | Log: Completed

Log: Completed

When: New Year's Eve
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Gren (

notapreacher) and Lestat (

vampbratprince)
Summary: Mama, can you tell me how vampires celebrate New Year's Eve?
Log: For as long as he can remember, he's been the musical entertainment somewhere on New Year's Eve. Tonight's the first time in years (he discounts his time in the Army and in prison because those were out of his control) that he's not playing saxophone somewhere.

In a way it's a relief, and so is the idea of just staying in and celebrating privately. Oh, he can share the champagne that's chilling in the refrigerator and the exquisite chocolate truffles sitting out on the counter. In fact, he plans to do just that. There's a quiet burn of happiness that goes along with the whole notion and he remembers from the few creative writing classes he took to pass the time back in high school that in fiction they say happiness is boring and it's struggle that's interesting. He happens to be perfectly content to be as dull as possible so long as it goes hand in hand with happiness.

Screw what anyone else thinks about the two of them: he's never given much care for what anybody else might think about any of the things he does. There are really only a few people whose opinions matter to him. One is doing whatever it is she's doing tonight (and he hopes Julia is happy and she knows she's always welcome over here) and the other is already here.

They could join the festivities at Lux, and they just might. Then again, they might just stay right here and hide out together. It wouldn't be the first time.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Tonight, he'll let himself be carried and as Lestat stands he wraps his legs around him like an overgrown vine of a kid. It's nice because he can keep up his kiss-assault on his lover this way and he does, all the way to the kitchen. Once they're there, though, he unhooks his legs and slides down, then grabs Lestat and pulls him close.

The word mine comes to mind.

The truffles sit in a box on the counter; he takes the champagne out of the refrigerator and uncorks it expertly enough. When the steam's done escaping from the top he pours some into a glass, takes a sip, savors it... and then swallows.

It's good champagne and now it's time to share it. Leaning forward, he gives Lestat a taste through another kiss. The night's being so beautifully indulgent so far and there's no reason to suspect it will stop being perfect any time soon. Hopefully, there won't be any curses at the stroke of midnight.

He's so used to Gren choosing to walk that when the legs don't come down he's actually surprised. However, he doesn't faulter and once they are in the kitchen he's surprised again when he's pulled close. It's not often that his lover is this...well, dominating. And he has no complaints at all.

The kiss he gives as he tastes the champagne makes that quite clear. He wants this and he'll encourage it in any way possible.

Gren's face is held between his hands as he fully takes his taste. And when he's pulling back, he's licking his lips.

"Delicious."

"Tell me when you want more."

Charlie Parker wrote a song called Lover Man in 1946 and every time he plays it or hears it -- the song's playing right now in the other room -- he thinks of Lestat. While it's true that Parker was high as the proverbial kite during the recording session, it's still one of the most beautiful and most enduring jazz numbers ever. There are no lyrics but it's full of feeling.

In a way it's a perfect backdrop to the night.

"If you thought the champagne was good, try one of these." Opening the box, he picks up a truffle, chews it slowly. "See if you like this one. It's coffee mocha." The chocolate's shared the same was as the champagne: with utmost attention to Lestat's pleasure.

Coffee mocha.

That's a flavor he's never tasted before. Slowly, he savors it. His tongue exploring every last crevice of Gren's mouth in order to obtain the flavor fully. It's...very delicious.

Sunlight and food. Those are the two things he misses about being human. Just those two things. One would think that with how he's such a sensual creature he'd miss sex too. He doesn't. Sunlight and food. Only those two.

"I like that one." His tongue lightly flicks across Gren's lips as if he missed some of the taste of the truffle.

"More."

Whatever Lestat wants: it's a little bit of a mantra for him and has been since the start. There are six precious truffles in that box and he has no idea what flavor any of them are; he asked to be surprised when he stopped back at the same chocolate shop he'd been to with Julia.

As if he's giving it utmost consideration, he picks another truffle carefully, going through the same routine he did the first time. They have to be chewed slowly for maximum... sharing effect.

This one's a raspberry chocolate cream; he doesn't tell Lestat that, though. They can have so much fun together while his lover tries to figure out the flavor.

"Try this one. Tell me what you think." He leans forward for another long slow kiss.

There was no flavor stated. Ah well. That isn't a problem. Leaning in, he starts tasting.

Chocolate. That's the first flavor he picks up on. After that there is a sweetness. Then something else. The sweetness is a cream. He know that. He's had it before. That last bit though.

He likes it but he can't figure out what it could be.

"Chocolate and cream. What is the other thing? I do not know it."

"Taste it again."

(It's a great excuse for another long luxurious kiss.)

"Raspberry. Before I knew you, my very first curse here was the ice cream one. I tasted like chocolate raspberry that day."

Now Lestat knows what that tastes like.

Fine chocolate tastes even better washed down with champagne; he takes a sip without really thinking about it. If Lestat wants more, he's perfectly capable of making that known. And won't that be fun if he does?

Raspberry. He will remember that.

Eyeing the sip Gren takes of the champagne, he waits patiently until the glass is out of the way. Without putting it in words, he leans in and steals a laced kiss. Sometimes, there is just no need for words.

Now is a perfect example of that.

"Hm, chocolate and truffles. I am liking this already."

And he needs one more kiss. One he goes right ahead and takes.

Hi, lover. This kind of indulgence is gorgeous and it's sweet, and whoever thinks Lestat's just some scary awful vampire is only seeing what's on the surface. Sometimes they only see what Lestat wants them to see. It's so satisfying to know who's under that facade. His hands find Lestat's now; he nods to the other room.

"Unless you want more truffles." He can manage one more, he's sure. "But I have to warn you, I really want to let my hands do what they're aching to do." It involves playing something, but that might not be the saxophone or the piano.

Truffles or Gren's hands. A difficult choice. In a way. After all, he doesn't even hesitate when he smiles and answers that he would love to find out what those hands have been aching to do.

Sooner rather than later.

"Come now."

A kiss.

"Show me."

That's easy and it's a good choice: he does lead Lestat into the other room but doesn't wait until they're even halfway to the couch before he reaches for that shirt and starts unbuttoning it. "Now," he says in a very matter-of-fact way, "some people would think oh, Grencia, can't you keep it in your pants? Button up. But they'd be missing the point. This isn't just about sex. It's about being close. Your clothes are beautiful and like I said, you're stunning in them. I can't help it if I prefer a little bit more of you showing."

Once the shirt's unbuttoned about halfway, he dips down and presses a kiss to the center of Lestat's chest.

He never said his hands worked alone. And anyway, last night Lestat took such good care of him: it's time to repay the favor. To make everything even and equal again: he feels much better that way.

No one can claim that he's only here for the gifts. In fact, it's his goal to give back more than he gets.

He can't help himself when he lets out a laugh at the commentary. Gren can really be so impatient. On the other hand, he doesn't mind letting a little bit more show. Not one bit.

"I have a feeling you intend to spoil me tonight. You're already well on your way to doing so."

That doesn't mean he can't spoil back though. Bringing Gren's face back up, he thoroughly kisses him. As if he hadn't managed to do so with the previous ones.

Anyways, he knows this isn't about sex. They're both creatures of indulgence.

And that, is just far too much fun sometimes.

It just so happens that he adores Lestat's body and it pains him that nobody else has celebrated it the way they do together in a long, long time. But it doesn't pain him too much; he's a possessive creature by nature and woe to the person who hones in on his territory. How he ever thought he'd be able to stand sharing Lestat is beyond him. Fortunately things didn't stay that way for very long.

Again, he hugs Lestat to him. Unbuttoning the shirt was just for show, mostly for his own pleasure, as a tease, as a source of private pleasure. That smooth skin is a marvel anyway. It looks so much more than human, and he's seen a lot of human skin.

Well. What else is new: he happens to think his lover is perfect.

"I don't just want to spoil you tonight. I want to spoil you every night." There's a beautiful tingling spreading over his whole body after that last kiss. How does Lestat do that? How does he keep making each kiss, each embrace, each touch better than the last one?

It must be magic.

"Only if I can spoil you in return." Which he already does. He loves to do so as well. With affection and presents and the rose the other night. And not as a bribe to keep him here. No, Gren will stay without those. He does it only because he wishes to.

Another kiss then he untucks his shirt and finishes off the rest of the buttons. He's showing off now and he knows it. But when the show is going to be enjoyed then why not?

"Does this give you a better view?"

Of course it does. He knows that.

That doesn't mean he can't ask though.

It does give him a better view, and it also makes him smile like a big cat napping in the sun dreaming of being let loose in a field crowded with mice. "You're gorgeous." There's no apology in the observation; it's just there. And Lestat, vanity and all, is on display for him. He'd be some kind of fool not to take advantage.

Now he can run his hands over that skin, and it's sometimes hard to say who gets more satisfaction out of that. From the outside looking in people might think they have a weird relationship physically. He talks of sex but they don't really have sex in any sort of traditional way. They do it in their own way, and it's perfectly fulfilling.

What they have and what they do suits the both of them or they'd do things differently. And as far as he's concerned, let people wonder. It's much more fun to be a book people have to pry to open to read instead of one that's lying there wide open for every passerby to see.

As his hands pass over Lestat's body -- lightly, teasingly -- he moves just that much closer, breathing in everything about the moment.

If ever there was a man that knew how to appreciate a body it's Gren. The best thing he can do in this situation is to let him. Smiling the entire time. In fact, that smile grows until he's showing off his teeth. His slide down Gren's body until they reach his hands, roaming over his skin. His hands lock on to his hips so he can pull him even closer.

The best part is that they are often this intimate. It doesn't matter if it is a holiday or not. They would do this even if it was a normal night.

Now, for that bit of spoiling.

He leans forward and starts feathering kisses along Gren's pale neck. Up then down then back up again until he's trailing them across his jaw. Little nips are added as well. When he reaches one ear, he nips at it as well before whispering in low, seductive tones.

"I love it when you do that. It excites me, angel."

That's the whole idea, in a give-and-take sort of way. Experience has taught him that when his lover does what he's doing now -- the little kisses, the tiny bites that penetrate nothing -- he is working his way up to an erotic and decadent and luxurious intimacy. It just becomes a question of when and more than anyone, Lestat's got a surplus of patience. The fine art of seduction (and it is an art) becomes a game, and that's its own turn-on.

"You excite me. I can't be in the same room with you and not feel that way." That might be usually more a sign of infatuation than of love, but he doesn't doubt his feelings for a minute. Over the course of his lifetime he's made a little bit of a study of love; even during his years on Callisto when he didn't participate by choice, he observed. People will gravitate toward intimacy even when it seems ill-advised or makes no sense to the casual onlooker. At their core, people are social creatures. They live and move in packs, even if the pack is only two in number.

Lestat -- his very own Wolfkiller -- is his pack-mate and can play alpha male all he wants without any complaint: any quest for dominance will even out over time. Tonight, Gren knows, he's been running the action and that's shifting right now. The back and forth -- the dance that makes up their encounters -- fascinates him.

Softly, one hand now moves up to stroke the back of Lestat's neck. He's well aware of the heat of his lover's breath against his ear, his jaw, his own neck. If that's not erotic, he doesn't know what is.

That's a statement he will be remembering for some time to come. Gren cannot even be in the same room with him without feeling excited. Oh yes, he fully intends for that to be remembered. No curse is going to stop him from doing that.

"Is that so?" The question is also whispered as he pushes Gren back until his legs are against the back of the couch. He doesn't trap him. Escape is easy if escape is wished for. He will always allow for that. It could be the predator in him but he's too preoccupied to be thinking about that.

"Now I want to use that for my benefit." A soft laugh then he lightly kisses the side of Gren's face. "It's like those words are a tease and a seduction all their own."

Of course, he's in a mood for them to be just that.

Pressing his body flush to his lover's, he pulls his head back enough to give him a smug look filled with amusement. "You're so good at that, my angel lover."

Usually he tells his stories through music, not words. But if Lestat tells him he's got some small skill with words too, he'll take the compliment. Aware enough to know exactly what's going on now, he doesn't startle when he feels his legs touch the couch. No one's forcing him into anything here; that is not the metal edge of one of the prison beds.

And that thought gets to go far, far away and he wishes it would stay gone for good. Maybe it will in ten or fifteen years but right now it's still too close to the surface. At least he can push it down and out of the way for a little bit at a time now, which is something he was unable to do for years.

Instead of dwelling there, he opens his eyes to take in the view in front of him.

"Oh, look. It's a nearly shirtless Lestat." After he tugs his partner's head closer to rest against his own neck and shoulder, there's not an inch of space between their bodies. That's the way it's supposed to be. That's the way it goes, and the memory of Pluto gets smaller and smaller and smaller until it simply... fades away and disappears in favor of the more intense and immediate sensations playing over his body at the moment.

He can't stop the laughter as he leans against Gren. That statement just pushed him of the edge of amusement. And while he tries to sober himself, he can't right away. He's fairly sure that his laughter isn't breaking the mood of the moment at all. He makes sure of that as he puts a hand on either side of Gren's face and gives him kiss after kiss after kiss...laughing the entire time.

As soon as the laughter has died down to soft chuckles, he sighs.

"Ah, lover of mine. You are too much sometimes. Stating fact like that. How I love the way you make me laugh and feel." Now, he really does sober as he rests his forehead against the one before him. "My heart feels complete when I am with you. You make me feel this way. And you see things in me I forgot about long ago. I know I call you my angel but there are times when I wonder if perhaps you really are. Such a strange thought but I do mean that."

That declaration is sealed with a soft and gentle kiss.

"You are precious to me."

Who is he to make an immortal feel complete? He's no angel. He's just a sax player with a whole stack of issues and a pretty face. But as his partner laughs against him he laughs too, and the volley of kisses given to him is sweeter than anything. Sure, there are fangs in there. Sure, his boyfriend's a killer. At least he kills with discriminate consideration, and murder's a sin they've both committed. In his mind he tells himself he only killed Lin, but that's not true. How many people met their end because of one of his bullets on Titan? He has no way of knowing, but he bets it's more than just a few.

God. Why is he thinking about that stuff? It's beyond time to stop. He returns that last kiss with more than a little bit of hunger and yearning. He wants Lestat to distract him completely, to take all those kinds of thoughts away. How selfish is that of him?

He's definitely no angel, and Lestat's definitely no devil, and maybe they're both just selfish people for wanting one another but if that's true it's the best kind of selfishness he can imagine. It's what keeps him going day after day, keeps him from going crazy all over again.

"If I didn't have you..." He doesn't put voice to the end of that statement; Lestat can fill in the blanks however he wants.

"However, you do. So who cares about what if?" He doesn't. He only wants Gren. The air around them has become more serious. That needs to change. A gentle smile softens his face as he leans in to give a slow and lasting kiss. Hands slide down until one rests behind his lover's neck and the other at the small of his back. Distractions are needed here. He's happy to provide them. As selfish as he is (as Marius pointed out), Gren has done that for him. He will do it for him now.

The hand at his back slips under the jacket to run circular patterns. Cloth of the shirt seperates him from skin but he can live with that.

The slow kiss becomes another as he pulls back for the briefest of moments. Claiming them again, he moves them around until they are at the arm of the couch. Rather than trapping Gren beneath him, he moves them past the arm of the couch and sits. Gren is pulled into his lap but the kiss never stops.

He wants to hold him close. If that is a decent distraction then it makes the situation even better. And finally he pulls back from the kiss. His hand leaves the back of his lover's neck to softly touch his cheek instead.

"You should see how stunning you are..."

He's got a feeling of déjà vu: they've been here before, in this exact position, in these exact clothes, doing this exact same thing. It's one of the more delightful things they could have chosen to repeat. It's the perfect distraction and he's more than a little bit thrilled with it. He holds Lestat's hand on his cheek, melts into it.

"You keep telling me that. Watch out. Right now I think my ego's bigger than yours." Eyes large and soft, he gives a tiny smile rich in flirtation and gratitude. "I think this calls for more champagne. Or another truffle. Or both. Are you hungry or thirsty?"

That's a very open-ended question and phrasing it like that was entirely intentional.

"Around you I find that I am always hungry and thirsty." He decides not to comment on Gren's ego being bigger. That's entirely debatable. And he's in no mood for debates. Besides, he's busy figuring out how he feels like interpreting the words 'hungry' and 'thirsty'.

Here's an idea. "Do you think you know a way to satisfy this for me?"

Because now he's curious to see what Gren will come up with. "After all, I think I might be...starving."

"Oh, I think I do." Lightly, he moves off Lestat's lap, puts an arm on either side of him on the back of the couch, and lets his hair blanket them as he goes in for another kiss. "You stay right here. Don't go anywhere."

Smug, he moves off into the kitchen where there's a moment's sound: the refrigerator opening, a drawer opening, water running. And then he's back, both hands behind his back like he's holding hidden treasure. Sitting next to Lestat, he sets down two things on the table in front of them: the box of truffles with its four remaining candies inside, and the glass of champagne complete with both a strawberry and a swirl of some blood-red liquid suspended at the bottom of the flute.

Nothing like spicing up champagne with a dash of chocolate port and fresh fruit; pleased, he turns to face his lover. "There. Now you have three things to choose from to satisfy your desires. Mystery-flavored truffles, enhanced champagne, and... this." Long fingers run over his own neck. "Any or all, in any order you choose. Of course, the night's young and you might want to save some for later. But if you're starving..."

The look in his eyes now is pure seductive offering.

"Or we could go join the partygoers at Lux." Personally, he votes against that last one, but making the offer only seems fair.

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