open post;

[lyceius]

overflow and any starters - the stage is yours!

Comments

a text at some point

[nishtha]

I have booked your flight into Palm Beach and your transportation to the Night Island. Your new PA has been telling me to stop and that she can handle it. I reassured her that I am quite capable of managing you on my own and have been doing so for many years. Can you have a word with her?

[lyceius]

And why would I do that? Are you on my payroll, Armand?

I will have a word with Christine, who should bring the new hire up to speed. Unless you wish to be compensated for your assistance?

[nishtha]

Only with your presence. Louis has been insatiable.

[break]

[ The next city they intersect at Daniel sends him the address of the motel the book tour's put him up at along with: Quiet night in? Maybe Lestat wants a break from the whirlwind of fans and drugs and drugged fans, green rooms full of black roses and perfumed letters, sound techs taping down wires and bandmates practing the drums.

It's snowing out, not that that means anything to their dead bodies, but Daniel likes the way it makes the parking lot look, before the plowman comes through at 6am. A field of glistening white under the dark sky, snowflakes whirling in the downward street lights and the neon of the vacancy signs like a swarm of something alive.

Unlike Lestat's particular way of booty calling, he's not dressed up in anything exciting, just a robe and slippers, chilling on the ugly, squeaky bed with a book and a glass full of the woman currently dying in the bathroom shower stall. He leaves the door unlocked. ]

[lyceius]

[ it's the invite itself rather than the promise of a quiet evening that draws lestat from the lingering buzz of the after show. naturally he was aware that their tours would intersect here, but the loneliness had not quite burrowed its way entirely under his skin yet, not enough that he would initiate contact on the first day. so to discover the address and the message directly after the final encore - admittedly it amused and charmed him easily. the blonde had grabbed the nearest coat and set off into the frigid night air without preamble.

after the deafening noise of the crowd, the band and all else, the silence brought by the thick snow was more than welcome. cold, colder than the black fluffy jacket lestat wore could account for, but it was a temporary thing, easily fixed with a feed and a fuck. certainly to any stray onlooker, he was just another shivering mascara smeared boy toy on his way to meet his illicit hookup in a cheap room. amusing, as always.

lestat can smell the fresh blood before even opening the door. could feel daniel from several blocks away. he doesn't bother checking the number on the door, just waltzes in with cigarette in hand.]

Your agent, she hates you. This is a dismal excuse for accommodation. It is for drug dealers and cheating husbands.

[ the door shuts behind him with a click. lestat toes his boots off with cat like grace before looking over to daniel, expression not giving away any distain nor approval while he takes a lazy drag.]

Which of those is on the menu tonight?

[break]

[ Daniel hadn't been sure Lestat would wanna bring the party his way, but the moment he hears the door he's like a dog whose master's home, ears perked. Folding away the book he picked up at the store after the signing, some cheap pop paperback. ]

With you? It's always both, babe.

[ Authors don't land rooms at the Ritz outside of awards night, but Lestat is right that this place is trashy. Maybe that's on purpose too, Daniel likes a little grunge. ]

You got any coke? Or we can go pick off the gangbangers in the parking lot, pretty sure they're smoking crack.

-- come on barbie, let's go party

[chainletter]

[ when this whole affair of theirs started, adam figured it would remain mostly behind-the-scenes. they weren't dating, after all. they weren't doing much more than fucking, talking, and letting lestat drink adam's blood at regular intervals - none of which gave adam any reason to imagine lestat might want to be seen in public with him.

and yet he here sits in lestat's dressing room, seated in lestat's chair, staring into the mirror as the blond fusses over his hair. a pile of potential outfits takes up a solid quarter of the room, evidence of how much lestat's been thinking about this before adam ever got involved - he'd only just been informed of the other's plans earlier that same day.

We're going out, he'd been told. Somewhere with many important people. You must look your best. whether to impress these 'important people' or simply to make lestat look good, adam still didn't know.

now, in the present, he rocks one leg restlessly, full of jitters. he can't remember the last time he'd gone to something like this - usually his nights out consisted of attending his friend's crappy gigs or getting blasted at a rave. no one important ever showed up; there were never connections on the line. he never needed to impress anybody before.

the nervous energy is overpowering, and before he can stop himself he hears himself speaking, the words almost guaranteed to make lestat roll his eyes: ]

Are you sure about this? I'll probably embarrass you, y'know. I don't know the first thing about talking to the fancy assholes that go to things like this.

[lyceius]

[ it's true, lestat had been thinking about this upcoming event for a while - mostly in the last 48 hours that he had heard of it. in that short time he had first compiled his own outfit, then began planning adam's. not an easy task, as he had not dressed the man before and clearly adam could not be relied upon to do it alone.

according to his lawyer turned personal assistant christine, the event was not just another sleazy post show after party, but one that could open many doors with the right kind of connections made. multiple angles - drawing enough of a crowd that the club owner was happy with the well paying patrons, raising just enough hell that made for juicy social media buzz and talking with the right influencers. the high chance that louis would be in association with this particular circle of high value club owners was not lost on lestat either. his ex husband had always had an interest in business pursuits, real estate just being one of many. lestat had heard along the grape vine that he was personally running a few high end night club venues around the bay area, making it highly likely that one way or another, louis would catch echoes of his successes or failures.

thinking about it now, lestat was beginning to feel a bit nervous himself. the tinny sound of trent reznor crooning from his phone speaker was beginning to grate on his nerves even, and adam's constant movement was not helping. ever dramatic, the blonde does indeed roll his eyes dramatically at his anxious questioning. he tugs deliberately on a pinch of dark hair, enough to jerk the smaller man's head back a little. ]

Une novelle plus, you are required to show your pretty young face, take photos of the ambiance and look as if you are enjoying yourself. Sweet talking the patrons is a bonus, one that can be easily done by asking for their photos and looking like a sight yourself.

[ he lets go with a huff, immediately resuming fluffing his fingers through adam's stiffened locks. already he has applied hairspray and teased it enough that it retains a nice amount of volume, that very bed headed chic that all rock groupies aspired to. his own hair is casually pulled back into a messy bun atop his head, silky soft and untouched by the usual array of products. that he would handle later.

content for now with the man's hair, he turns back to browse the range of clothing pieces he had assembled and hung around the dressing room. he had selected items that focused on highlighting adam's slender hips and waist primarily. the balance was in finding the right suggestion of allure, whilst not being too explicit for the poor man.

the outfit that he was now piecing together from various coathangers was this; pleated black slacks that ran loose but cinched at the waist, a loose fit black tee made from sheer lace and a tight plain corset he planned to cover with stacked belts for an interesting effect. capped off with an elegant boot with a pointed toe. still grungy enough to fit the genre, daring enough to draw attention to adam's natural beauty yet upscale enough to project wealth. ]

a tad pleased with himself now, he assembles the outfit onto a few hangers and hooks them onto a rung close to the vanity for adam to inspect. ]

Ici. You will wear this.

[ a haughty sniff as he adjusts the belts on the hanger, glancing at adam in the mirror's reflection. hm. he might need some eyeliner too. ]

I do not wish to hear any arguments, I have had these items especially taken in for you.

IM CACKLING AT "clearly adam could not be relied upon to do it alone" kdfgkfhkjh

[chainletter]

[ lestat, as always, is quick to show his displeasure, and that little tug on adam's hair makes the smaller man wince, a hiss of pain escaping him. his nose wrinkles in distaste but he doesn't make any further argument; there's no point. besides, it isn't as though he doesn't want to go. this party sounds like a big deal, and the fact that lestat has personally invited him is an even bigger deal.

secretly (or, at least, as secretly as he can given the fact that lestat can read his thoughts) adam has allowed himself to indulge in little fantasies, spurred on by their growing friendship and the small things lestat has said, here and there. adam knows he is not lestat's boyfriend, and he also knows there is a man out there who has entirely captured lestat's heart - though to what extent, he is unsure - but the human cannot keep from wondering if lestat might think of him as more than just a body to fuck, a voice to speak with when the demons inside his head grow too loud.

adam wishes to be special, as all mortals do. and so he endures the poking and prodding, the way lestat pushes his vision upon him, not allowing any pushback whatsoever.

a small part of adam wonders if he does so because he cannot handle the criticism. it wouldn't be a surprise.

he does not say anything contrary about the outfit presented to him - but the incredulous look upon his face as he stares at the clothing says enough. it's not that the chosen pieces are offensive, but simply that adam has never imagined himself wearing anything of the sort. ]

Is that a corset?

[ he hears himself say. ]

let's see how long we can keep this short and sweet lmao

[chainletter]

so uh

should i start calling you my boyfriend?? or

lol idk

let's give it a generous 5 tags

[lyceius]

Would you like to call me this, Adam?

It makes us sound like teenagers, fooling around in the back seat. I don't hate it.

not me starting another texting thread bc short

[chainletter]

hey
so uh

my mom and dad are gonna come to the show tonight

hell yeah brother

[lyceius]

Will you be greeting them?

I suppose that I could skip the leather harness on stage tonight. For you, chèri.

u kno what this is

[edgeofthelake]

[ OOC: continued from here! ]

[ Always is just a word, but it reverberates in Louis nonetheless, helpless wanting and relief that feels almost disconnected from the rest of him, an autonomic response to his Maker's touch. Complicated, like everything else when it comes to Lestat, with resentment as much as love, for all he was the first to say it, the one who came running when he was called; the noise he makes in the back of his throat when he's kissed is frustration and desire all at once. It makes his grip a little harder than it needs to be when he puts his hands on Lestat's body, thumbs digging into muscle and flesh on his hips, tracing up the Adonis belt with his nails, one side leaving a smear of wet and blood behind.

He looks into those forget-me-not eyes, feeling himself lost. ]

Motherfucker.

[ Anger and joy mingling, tasting like copper on his tongue. His vampire heart beats like a drum, rattling percussion echoed in his cock. It hurts. It's everything he's ever wanted. If he's not inside him in the next minute he might actually die all over again.

He gets his hands under Lestat's thighs, lifts him easy to settle him on the edge of the counter. What remains of the spit and blood on his hand gets rubbed up between Lestat's cheeks over that tight ring of muscle, more a courtesy than anything that's going to be helpful, then over his own dick in long strokes while he leans in to keep kissing him, letting it become more languid but no less heated. ]

Not gonna be gentle. [ All the warning gets before he slots the fat head of his cock against Lestat's hole, hand under his knee to make it a good angle, as much pulling him down onto it as pushing into him with a low, unsteady growl and a whispered fuck. ]

[lyceius]

[ perfect, his louis. perfectly vicious, perfectly tender, perfectly imperfect as that first trembling kiss upon the altar. the most perfect aspect to this was that louis was still alive, sane and alive. kissing him with all the terrible anger that was his birthright. finally trembling with the blood, oozing violence and sexuality in the way lestat had always envisioned.

no one else could quite set his skin alight like this, grip him with such bruising passion. it makes lestat's heart race - or was it in time to louis'? no matter. he is grinning foolishly into another kiss, ecstatic to be lifted and placed to perch on the counter. grasping at the nape of the other's neck, firm shoulders. fingers press at his rim for a fleeting moment and the touch is enough to make his toes curl, anticipation thrumming through his veins.

already he is whispering his pleas against louis' mouth, breathy gasps of s'il vous plait i need to feel you please louis now now now then the burn, the breach. lestat hisses between his teeth, hooks his heels around louis' waist and pulls him in tight. driving that perfect dick deep into his core like it was made to fit, groaning his appreciation into the wet heat of louis' mouth. ]

I missed you. [ referring to their entwining and the man both, a solemn confession accentuated by a roll of his hips already, not bothering to let himself relax or adjust. he wants to feel more now, to feel him for days afterwards, damn the consequences. louis wants him. already his cock is leaking across his bunched abdomen, twitching with every nudge inside him. ]

texting; i mean, for now

[spellink]

[ a picture of several strap-ons lined up on her bed covers. ]

it's my birthday, and as your generous gift you should pick which one you want me to use on you

[lyceius]

[ oho, she spoils him. immediately the photo gets his attention - he focuses in on one with a nice realistic flared head, simple with just enough detail. thick, but not obscene.

fuck, the thought of the little witch wielding this over him, strapped onto her hips - already arousal thrums through him and he shifts subtlely in his make up chair. his makeup artists have seen worse glimpses on his phone screen by now. ]

This is the gift you wish from me? It would be rude of me to refuse such a request.

The blushed pink, if you please. It is your cock, after all.

bc I miss them lol T_T <3

[chainletter]

so exactly how many boyfriends do you have now? lol

ps. louis is terrifying but he seems like a pretty nice guy aside from that :p

picks you up and SPINS

[lyceius]

You have been speaking with Louis? Without me?

... Not all of them are boyfriends, if you must call them that. I prefer lovers, myself.

The term boyfriend is reserved for you alone.

:) anyway, a week or two after The Fiasco:

[talamascan]

[ anyway, even though he'd sort of intended to keep his distance for long enough to figure out his own feelings, his disappearance this time had been mostly unintentional. the agent that shot him had still been around, after all, and even if he hadn't been, guy never wants to step foot in seattle ever again if he can avoid it.

instead, he'd gone south, hitchhiking or walking or reluctantly taking buses. he's somewhere in southern mexico now, but honestly, he's not planning to stay here for long, either. he just needs time to breathe.

and a phone, actually. how long has it been? the days bleed together sometimes. ]

hey, it's me. i'm probably gonna keep being scarce until i know where to go next, but i didn't want you to think i was dead in a ditch somewhere or anything.

[ he wants to say something else. he wants to say a lot of things, and he starts a lot of them, typing and then backspacing again when he realizes it's the loneliness and feelings of insignificance bleeding through the big, ugly, gaping wound that's been festering at his core for weeks now.

but it's his own fucking fault for letting it happen in the first place, so finally he just settles on: ] i watched your interview with revolver on the way down. that interviewer was ready to give you her firstborn.

[lyceius]

[ once the manic joy had passed, the dread began to set into the pit of lestat's stomach to make a home. rowan had truly assisted in avoiding a fate that honestly petrified lestat, so regardless of the clash of personality that had occurred, the vampire was still eternally grateful that guy was even alive. a few scrapes seemed to be standard, but a bullet. that was far too close for comfort.

so lestat once again sits on his hands, tries to tell himself that at least guy was whole when he skittered away from rowan's offer of shelter. another reminder of just why he shouldn't attempt to snatch the mortal himself to keep him well protected under his care. at least he is able to express his concern to adam, to clutch the small man close at night and try not to think about how fragile mortal bodies were. he is able to keep one safe.

so the proof of life comes sooner than he would have hoped, though it is still achingly long. immediately after spotting the new number, lestat's thumbs fly across the on screen keyboard to respond.]

Guy?! I heard from Rowan. Was the wound serious?

You are alive and it is all I can ask for. Thank you for trusting me.

You are whole, still?

When will you be back?

[ a little flood of messages - he's concerned, excited. a little overbearing, but he was a father once and in moments like this, it begins to show.]

delivery

[edgeofthelake]

[ Shipped overnight for Valentine's Day wherever Lestat happens to be in the world, a long flat black box in a FedEx envelope. Inside the box, there's 11 long stemmed red roses, and a postcard-sized photo in a slim black frame. The photo is of Claudia in a pretty dress smiling for the camera, one of many taken in Paris that Louis has hoarded over the years and found difficult to part with.

There's a note with the gifts: ]

One rose for each of our decades, and something you ought to have. You ended up with so little to remember her. I always regretted that.

Love, always.

Louis

[lyceius]

[ lestat spends some time alone with the gift, simply letting the slender box sit open in the dressing room of thst night's venue. he can't bring himself to pick up the photo, not for at least an hour or so in fear of immediately shattering it with his trembling hands.

instead he sits there, cigarette dangling between his fingers and traces the glass with a claw. over their daughter's face caught in a familiar wolfish grin, posing on the parisian streets he knew so well. his little terror, fierce and bright. another image to imprint over the one behind his eyelids, the half charred spectre seen too often in the throngs of clamouring fans. in this photo, he would like to think of her relishing in her newfound love, her very own lestatlouis companion heart.

the ache is back. lestat closes the box lid once more just in case those joyful eyes turn flinty. scrubs his own eyes free of the red swimming there, reaches blindly for the vodka.

it's still early in the evening when louis receives a text in response: a photo of the closed box, lestat's elegant hand holding the note.]

Thank you. I will cherish this.

Happy Valentine's Day ♥

[medicalling]

[Rowan's gifts to Lestat had taken a bit to make come together. He'd gotten images of Louis, Adam, and himself, and brought them to a gnomish tinkerer at the Night Market. A few discussions about what he'd wanted, and frequent checks to be sure things were going to plan, and Rowan had three tiny little movable figurines that looked exactly like the three of them. Mechanical little magical dolls, each one bearing the same look of Lestat's lovers. About the size of a pixie. They reacted to Lestat's voice only, coming with a little instruction manual that let the vampire know that he could pose them, or have them move independently; dancing witch each other, or alone, or just standing on their heads, if he wanted.

They'd be wrapped in black silken wrapping paper, and delivered by two pixies. One a little pink haired male with a shimmering hue of purple along the edges of his wings, short choppy hair, and deep blue eyes. The other was a blue hued female, baby blue and with the hint of green painted on tiny nails. Her hair was long and curling, eyes black. And the pair of them were waiting for Lestat when he came back to the trailer. The male flitted over to give him a card and a kiss.]

A consort deserves their own retinue, and these two are partial to wanting to be the ones to head yours. Someone needs to keep that ridiculous trailer clean, and there's not nearly enough mess in my life here when there's just myself to care for. Say hello to Periwinkle and Zinnia. They already adore you, though not nearly as much as I do. Stay safe, and come back to me when you need a moment of calm in the storm of your life.

Love and always yours,
Rowan

🥺 ❤️

[lyceius]

[ the gifts are met with glee - first a fuss over the charming little ones and how pretty they were, then the vampire fawns over the dolls representing his darlings. immediately he props them up on his bedside, sets the little adam and rowan to dancing whilst the little louis reads, lounging on stray rings adorning the desk.

then the vampire finally reads the accompanying card and squeaks a noise of delight, clasping his hands together in glee. the two pixies are fawned over anew, adored with a flurry of very careful kisses from the vampire. the pair of them would be very well treated indeed, likely to make a little nest for themselves in a little corner of the mostly unused kitchenette.]

Rowan! You spoil me with such rarities, you brilliant man.

I owe you many kisses, several times over. Thank you, my love. I will take good care of all of these charming little ones, fae and doll alike. ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️