citylogs | [open mingle: the sunlight at midnight gala]

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[open mingle: the sunlight at midnight gala]

WHO: Anyone attending the Sunlight at Midnight gala!
WHAT: KISS PEOPLE AND DANCE IDK
WHERE: The freshly-renovated Planetarium in District 4!
WHEN: Saturday, December 2
WARNINGS: None for the log itself; please warn responsibly in individual top-levels!

THE VENUE

Upon entry to the newly-renovated venue space that was once a planetarium, guests will quickly notice that the space has been transformed into a three-layered affair, ranging from the very well-lit upper level down to the more romantic ambiance of the dance floor and performance space, with a comfortable tier of seating and standing tables in the middle.

Not intended by Ghost (

badfeyth) and Kaveh (

fussiest), yet still mysteriously appearing at random places throughout the venue, are sprigs of magical kissing mistletoe!

The mistletoe will cause characters to at least pause underneath it, and will give them a mild compulsion to kiss whoever they're with, but the compulsion will not be unavoidable and characters can easily break free of the "hold" the mistletoe has on them. Even so, partygoers will quickly learn to be mindful of what's overhead — or not!

UPPER TIER

On the well-lit upper tier, guests will find plenty of generalized mingle room, including two patios with casual seating on either side of the space. Throughout the center are a variety of stations and attractions, as well as some helpful resources for the discerning partygoer.

For the fashionably un-forward, you may wish to visit (or find yourselves forcibly dragged into) Lestat's on-site fashion consulting lair, which boasts a small and curtained-off space where partygoers in need can receive last-minute fashion advice, do wardrobe finishing touches, and address any other aesthetic concerns under the discerning eye of LESTAT DE LIONCOURT (perfectdevil). This is also where a selection of basic cosmetics and beauty supplies can be found, in case of a need for an emergency touch-up, safety pin, or spot removal!

Continuing onward, guests will find four individual food stations, each with their own set of color-coded disposable dishware! Perhaps they'd like to take a sampling of:

• STATION #1 — TSURUNO (fanstheflames): Fried rice in the shape of Christmas trees, dumplings with carrot reindeer antlers and red pepper noses, and fortune cookies that tell you to go dance with somebody already!
• STATION #2 — ROLAND (gradenine): Hotpot with mild and spicy soup bases plus a variety of vegetables and meats, and KBBQ with chicken, pork, and beef cuts, plus sides!
• STATION #3 — RENO (astraphilia): Whipped goat cheese figs, brie and prosciutto stuffed dates, and sprouting cauliflower with brown butter and lemon — paired with a couple of simple cocktails (a negroni and a Bombay mule)!
• STATION #4 — WANDERER (featheradrift): Samosas, panipuri, Japanese-style sandwiches, and a lot of sweets and desserts like chocolate truffles, pâte de fruit, candied nuts, madeleines, and custards!

Champagne (alcoholic and non-alcoholic) is also circulating around the venue under the watchful eye of KANEKI (anthropophagite), and a small selection of coffee is available at a nearby station as well!

Finally, at the far end of the upper concourse, one can find a partitioned-off space for photo opportunities featuring a black-and-gold backdrop, an arch aglow with fairy lights, and a few idle props like chairs and small movable tables that partygoers can use to coordinate their souvenir photos. PROMPTO (burstmodes) will be around to do formal event photography, but there'll also be a Polaroid available so that people can take their own photos and develop them instantly!

VISUALS: AESTHETICS & ETC.

MIDDLE TIER

On the mid-tier halfway down the stairs that flank the venue on either side, partygoers will find a landing with an assortment of standing tables covered in black tablecloths and tied with gold bows, where guests can enjoy their refreshments, engage in conversation, and people-watch the goings-on taking place below them on the dance floor! To prevent any mischief or accidental spilling of food onto hapless dancers below, each landing is lined with a courtesy railing, and immediately below the railing is an arrangement of tasteful decor.

Between the two landings, guests can find the remnants of the planetarium seating — fold-down auditorium chairs with comfortable cushions arranged in gently circular rows, giving the people relaxing there a perfect view of the dance floor and the spectacle of lights taking place below it.

VISUALS: AESTHETICS & ETC.

LOWER TIER

The lowest level of the venue, at the very bottom of the stairs, is the most dimly-lit of the three levels and is mostly comprised of the dance floor. Along the back wall and parts of the sides runs a slightly-raised platform stage upon which are arranged a piano, an electric guitar, a stereo system, and a few microphones for the convenience of any vocalists in the house. The stage is wide enough for one or two people to walk around comfortably, but generally is fairly modest to leave the majority of the room for the dance floor.

It's on the dance floor that the real "sunlight at midnight" theme takes its shape, as this is where the bulk of Kaveh's artificial lighting technology has been put into play. Along with standard party enhancements like a few spotlights and an overhead disco ball, the perimeter is also dotted with round arrays of stained glass with light fixtures behind them, causing panels of colored light to cast onto the hardwood of the dance floor. These arrays can also be rotated like kaleidoscopes, allowing for the patterns of light to change throughout the course of the evening — adding an element of renewable interest in the continuing aesthetic.

VISUALS: AESTHETICS & ETC.

ENTERTAINMENT

Throughout the course of the evening, music will be provided by a rotating set list of performers, interspersed with prearranged playlists courtesy of the new media store. Entertainers will be informed of their set lengths, obligations, and timeslots well in advance of the venue by Ghost, and any necessary instruments or microphone hookups will be ready and available at the time of the performance.

Performers on deck include:

• HYTHLODAEUS (nomoresharks) and EMET-SELCH (recreator): Jazz piano bops along with some ragtime arrangements.
• EDDIE (thefreak): A mix of slow rock ballads and hard rock dance numbers, on electric guitar!

In addition to the live performances, the venue will also be treated to some traditional mid-2000s party favorites such as:

• BLORBOLICIOUS, by Gurgi (feat. Bill.i.was)
• HIPS SOMETIMES LIE, by The Kira
• SANDSQUALL, by DaNice
• MAYBE GONNA GIVE YOU UP, by Rickard Dastley
• MAMBO NO. 4 AND A HALF, by Stu Vega
• THE CHA-CHA HUSTLE, by DJ FriendlyGhost
• VIRUS, by Boo Boo Dolls

VISUALS: AESTHETICS & ETC.

LIVEBLOG

Looking to add some network spam to your gala experience? Check out our dedicated IC NETWORK POST!

credit.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Louis truly is an indescribable vision when he smiles, and Lestat can be confidently certain that this kind of smile is his favourite one to see on him. He looks almost unaware of it at first, his expression impossibly unguarded, vulnerable and yet not sparing a single fraction of thought for anything like safety or what anyone might think. As it grows it feels warm, and fully realised it's so beautiful that it's almost hard to look at, like what Lestat remembers of sunlight through thin curtains, the golden hour at the peak of dawn.

His words are sweet, sweeter than Lestat deserves and yet his selfish heart clings to them desperately, wishing beyond anything that he will never be someone who isn't made up of what Louis sees in him. Hopelessly he wishes - prays, even, though there surely isn't any God who will hear him - that whatever lies in store for their future, that he will always have Louis looking up at him like this, that he will always feel as loved as he does right now. ]

...

[ He's moments from saying something stupid, clearly, because it starts with a hesitation.. but that moment of pause is just enough time for Louis to anchor him in to a kiss, and Lestat goes more than willingly.

Louis' lips are soft, but their kiss is insistent and firm; Lestat pushes it a fraction deeper, teasing Louis' lower lip a little before kissing him with a closed mouth again in a dizzying back and forth of affection, until he finally pulls away to reveal a dazed smile on his face that soon pulls to a point as his mouth runs away without input from his mind. ]

I'm sure that this is where, were we impulsive mortals or perhaps characters in some play, I would propose and then whisk you away from the festivities to enjoy taking up your time for myself.

[ One of his fingers toys in the V of Louis' beautiful waistcoat. ]

I have missed you tonight.

I've missed you.

( Once again Louis mirrors Lestat's words back at him, his voice still soft and slightly breathless from the kiss, or perhaps simply from Lestat's proximity. There's relief in it, too, because it's still tragically natural for Louis to assume that Lestat is having a grand time without him, and ever moreso at a grand event like this one, with Louis scurrying about with his papers and notes, seeking out brief, aching glimpses of Lestat, who seems entirely in his element. Shining like the sun itself, just as he always does, the blue of a lost summer's day in his eyes.

He's felt vaguely out of place for hours, grateful that he's volunteered to keep busy; he isn't above a pang in his chest when he sees Lestat twirling someone else around the dance floor, or catches his hands eagerly caressing another underneath the mistletoe. He had been a good sport filming Lestat's effusive speech for Ghost, because of course Ghost deserved all of the praise in the world for her efforts, but it didn't escape Louis' melancholy notice that he couldn't even throw Lestat a simple birthday party.

But all his doubt and discontent vanishes like mist when Lestat speaks those words, foolish and impossible though they may be. His pulse quickens as if his heart is leaping toward Lestat's long, clever fingers. Armand's voice comes back to him: you really are a romantic at heart, aren't you? And oh, yes, he is, because Louis knows that if Lestat were to ask for his hand in some form of marriage right now, his answer would be an immediate and enthusiastic yes. After all, hasn't he already promised himself to Lestat in every other way?

He smiles, soft and warm and so tentatively hopeful, and loops his arms loosely around Lestat's shoulders. )

And what would you do, monsieur, if you and I were vampires instead?

( He toys with Lestat's ponytail, looping a curl around around his finger again and again like cool silk. )

[ Even when Lestat is completely certain that he understands exactly how Louis’ mind works, to the point where he’s sure he an predict with perfect accuracy how their conversations might go, he still somehow manages to surprise him - and isn’t that the most appealing part of Louis? The fact he’s so very much Lestat’s opposite that he can keep him guessing, keep his attention, inspire him and surprise him, drive him mad and render him wordless and thoughtless with just the right combination of words and brushes of contact.

This is one of those very times, where Lestat had assumed Louis would bluster and perhaps even roll his eyes at his lavish romanticism, but with a helpless blush staining his cheeks as he did… This reply shocks him, then, enough that he struggles on formulating a reply for long enough that it’s quite obvious he’s caught off guard.

Mentioning the possibility of a proposal suddenly makes it quite real in his head, and though Lestat has never held any lofty desires to be a husband after having only experienced enough happy couples in his long life to count on one hand… he thinks, now, that he perhaps finally understands the intention behind it. To want to keep one person by your side forever, to have them know in no uncertain terms that you pledge yourself to them and to have them pledge themselves to you in return, to become bound in a ceremony as an unbreakable unit of two souls. It has always sounded so performative before, but in this framing he can see the appeal.

The impulsive part of him wants to ask if Louis would want that, is already deliberating what his reaction would be to such a question… but the part of Lestat that is still, somehow, afraid of rejection and doubts he could survive something like that, doubts that he deserves it and is certain he’d do something to break it before its wings had chance to fly, keeps a hand clamped firmly over that part of his heart. ]

Well, I suppose if we were vampires the point still stands.

[ He glances behind them, at the dwindling party, at the lights and the music, but finds his gaze wandering back to the only thing he wants to look at right now, and he smiles at Louis in a mischievous way, hands winding firm about his waist. ]

I could still whisk you away, you know. Do you think you and your little clipboard are still needed in there?

( The point still stands. Louis has only moments to wonder what that means, but it strikes him that Lestat isn't entirely teasing: that the idea occurred to Lestat first, and he isn't laughing about it the way he would if it were something completely ridiculous. The knowledge takes root in his chest somewhere near to his heart for him to think on later, in the quiet hours of the morning, when the two of them are tangled together as sleep softens the edges of Louis' thoughts and Lestat's heartbeat lulls him into peace.

But Louis lets out a brisk, sudden laugh as Lestat's hands settle at his waist, and he slinks obligingly closer. Their chests are nearly touching, hips lasciviously close; the absurd phrase leave room for Jesus springs to mind, and Louis almost laughs again. He sighs, his breath ghosting across Lestat's lips in the cool air, and the sides of their noses slide against each other in a near kiss. )

Oh, but I shouldn't...

( In a tone that absolutely means: I need you to convince me to do it. Tempting the devil to tempt him back. )

They'll need me back at the end of things, I'm sure.

( But the food and drink preparations have wound down, and cleanup won't be for a while still... )

[ As Louis comes close but not close enough, Lestat is reminded of the pull between two magnets desperate to fit together, held back by force but straining to be one. It’s similar to the way they work, after all; he and Louis both trying desperately to be patient with one another given their newfound relationship, not wanting to rush things, wanting to give themselves time as much as the other… but ultimately failing and finding themselves tumbling into further and further familiarity. This entire month spent wrapped up in each other, exploring and discovering, means that now the separation between them feels so much larger than it is when they aren’t pressed up side-by-side. Lestat wonders how he ever managed to stay away for hours on end in the past, when being with Louis is so much better. ]

If I were a vampire, monsieur, I wouldn’t listen to your reasons, would I? It isn’t exactly clambering in your window at night as you sleep, but it’s almost as good.

[ Lestat’s smile is sultry, like a cat waiting for the bird to turn its back. His fingers flutter against Louis’ waist, as if describing exactly how easy it would be to pull him in close and ruin this ridiculous barrier of space between them. ]

But since we are both vampires, well… You already know all my tricks, how easy it is to sway a partner, especially when they’re willing.

[ Lestat is under no doubts that Louis has seen him flitting to and fro tonight, his hand on countless waists, kisses paid against skin, his eyes flashing when he sees something he likes… but he’s equally sure that Louis must know that this very particular sparkle currently dancing in Lestat’s eyes now is reserved only for him. ]

And equally I know just how willing you are.

[ His resistance peters out, and like a whip cracking he draws Louis against him; chest, hips, lips together. He kisses him firmly enough to tell him without words how impatient he’s feeling, how much he wants him, how much he missed him. ]

Come with me, somewhere we can be close, even for a little while. The dancefloor, or below this balcony in the shadows you like so much, I don’t care. I’ll simply go mad if you refuse me – the idea of waiting until tonight is impossible.

( Ah, there it is. Louis has always been a passive creature; his willpower is strongest when he can blame someone else for the initial momentum. There isn't a single thing for Louis to feel guilty for tonight, though, and surely slipping away with his beloved for a few kisses (and perhaps a light snack) won't bother anyone.

And if anyone asks Louis where he'd disappeared to afterward... it was Lestat's idea. Everyone knows how difficult he is to resist.

Louis sighs deeply, contentedly, pressing the long line of his body against Lestat's and searching for the familiar drumbeat of his heart beneath those lovely clothes. Two centuries he's known that rhythm; he was always aware of Lestat's presence in their old townhouse, the sounds of his comings and goings even with those silent steps, attuned to his maker's pulse with a sense that seemed deeper than even his preternatural hearing should allow. )

If you'll promise me the last dance of the evening, we can slip away into the shadows now.

( His voice is a whisper against Lestat's lips, as if he can't bear to stop kissing him even to speak. )

It’s yours, my heart.

[ Like a hound given permission to run, Lestat’s expression turns from sultry to excited; he scoops up Louis’ hand in his own and, bemoaning the lack of certain abilities from his home world that would make lowering themselves down from this balcony to the waiting grounds below a simple task, and instead dragging his lover back into the building so they can sensibly descend the stairs and slip out of a side door instead.

Once in the dimly lit exterior of the building, with nothing to keep them company other than the soft breeze and the glow of the moon, Lestat easily crowds Louis against a wall, his arms and hips pinning him in place, his eyes glittering with intention as he gazes down at him. His expression isn’t hungry – not exactly, not yet – but there’s some trace of satisfaction in it, clearly pleased with this turn of events, as if Louis required all that much convincing. ]

You’ll have to keep your head for the both of us, Louis. There’s very little stopping me from keeping you here for the rest of the night. Your responsibilities be damned.

[ A finger curls beneath Louis’ chin, lifting his face to the slight angle he needs to seamlessly press their lips together. When he speaks, he barely moves back, the brush of his lips a perfect mirror of how Louis had been reluctant to let their kiss break earlier. Each word is like the beat of a moth's wing, and his voice is as soft and sweet to match. ]

I like having you under my attention like this.

( Louis melts against Lestat, their two bodies becoming one in the velvet shadows. He wraps himself around Lestat as if he could consume him with his embrace alone, each syllable of speech a soft kiss that makes him shiver. Their chests touch, embroidered vests rasping softly as they brush together, but Louis can feel Lestat's heartbeat beneath the layers of fabric. Oh, God, it's going to be difficult to go back inside. )

And I enjoy having your attention all to myself.

( Louis whispers the words against Lestat's lips, letting the point of a fang tease the bottom swell just lightly enough to give himself plausible deniability and hopefully drive Lestat slightly mad with desire. And if some of Louis' flirtation is spurred on by his own petty little insecurities, well, at least he's making something useful out of the feeling. )

... I'm sure quite a few people are wondering why you don't have your precious Ghost on your arm for the night.

( Louis is one of those people, and he feels grateful and guilty at once that Lestat chose him instead. )

[ Such a beautiful thing Louis is like this, framed against the wall and held in place by Lestat’s own body, lit by the moonlight and looking up at Lestat like he’d like nothing better than for the boundaries between their two souls to crumble so that they could become one being. Or perhaps that’s what Lestat himself wants… it might be Lestat’s romantic mind at work, but he’s sure he can see his own desires reflected back in Louis eyes.

Louis gets his wish, of course; when Lestat feels his flesh teased under the sharp point of Louis’ fang he groans with the effort of resistance for no reason other than wanting to drag their time together out a little longer… And then when he speaks, his mouth falls a little open, and he backs off to study Louis’ expression once more.

There’s no misery there, no hurt or resentful jealousy as he’s seen before… in fact his expression has hardly changed, and Lestat is confused for a moment before he realises that this comment is merely the product of an evening spent wanting after someone constantly in the arms of others. It isn’t targeted, it isn’t even meant to make him feel bad… it’s simply Louis being honest, in the only way Louis can. ]

I don’t think there’s a soul here wondering that, at least not those who have seen the way I look at you.

[ He presses a kiss under Louis’ ear, over the throb of his pulse. Possessive. ]

Does it bother you so much what other people think, my heart?

( Louis shivers at the kiss beneath his ear, and he tips his head back and to the side so that Lestat can access every inch of his pale throat. He knows that it could be a dangerous thing, encouraging Lestat's possessive tendencies; he knows that Lestat has fought hard against his own nature to be the sort of vampire who doesn't need to tie his fledgling down or cage him like a songbird. And Louis is thankful for that, he is, except the word yours is galloping through his veins with every eager beat of his heart.

Does it bother him? He isn't sure, and he thinks about his answer as well as he can with Lestat's sweet lips against his sensitive neck, golden hair tickling his cheek. )

I'm not troubled by what others think. If only you and I knew we were lovers, that would be enough.

( He doesn't have the ego to need more. He nuzzles his cheek against Lestat's, smoothing fingers over the velvet ribbon in his hair. )

It's wonderful to see you so content. I'm grateful to her for the light in your eyes. ( He attempts a self-deprecating smile. ) I feel my own efforts are inadequate compared to all of this.

[ Lestat follows the path of Louis’ throat that opens up beneath his lips as his lover tips his beautiful head to the side, kissing slowly and almost carefully at the pulse running down his sensitive neck, delighting in every shudder and every bristle of Louis’ nerves beneath his attention. He kisses so softly it’s as though he’s whispering a secret to a lover he’s been reunited with after a long time spent apart; his contact gentle but restrained for fear of showing his true hunger. ]

My heart…

[ Lestat murmurs in a way that could seem admonishing if it weren’t for the helplessly tender look in his eyes when he pulls back ever so slightly to study Louis’ face. It’s true enough that there is a sparkle to his expression, but it’s nothing like how his eyes had shone before, on the dance floor or up on that stage; this glow, this glittering light that seems to reflect from deep inside of him rather than any outside force, is reserved only for Louis. ]

Do you really think yourself inadequate? You may not have been inspired to throw a Gala, but I wouldn’t be nearly as light of heart if I didn’t have you here with me, if I didn’t know that I could leave at any moment to find you.

[ Lestat leans back in, but this time he presses his kiss to the corner of Louis’ mouth, and when he speaks he does so against his lips, in a low and quiet voice. ]

There’s no-one I’d rather spend my life with than you. Surely you must know that? It’s unimaginable how often you’ve plagued my thoughts this evening. I wanted to leave you to your own business, I wanted to focus on mine… But God, Louis, all I could think of was this – being close to you again.

[ He presses his head back into his hands, into his touch, willing him to feel his truth through touch alone, wondering what in the world he can do to make Louis know this, to believe him. He’d been talking about marriage earlier, hadn’t he? A wild thought enters his mind, and his eyelids flutter ever so slightly as he looks back at Louis’ face, searching. ]

( Louis sighs, deep and contented and in love. )

Oh, Lestat...

( He's overcome as always, amazed as always, all his fears and worries smoothed away by Lestat's sweet words. Louis knows from long experience what Lestat sounds like when he's being insincere or toying with someone or simply playing the suave romantic, and it's all the more precious that Louis can tell that he means it. But Lestat has always been more honest than Louis gave him credit for during their long years together — it was only that Louis grew so used to examining every statement for hidden meanings, and invented them where there were none to be found. It's been months now, the better part of a year since they found each other again; Louis has lost his instinct to sift through every sentence for the insults that he believes he deserves, but the sweetness, the tenderness, that hasn't lost its novelty yet.

A dreamy smile plays at the corner of Louis' lips as Lestat presses back into his hands, and he jostles the bow in his hair; he attempts to right it, but gives up and takes the ribbon out, threading it between his fingers and petting Lestat's hair as it falls free. He'll fix it later. He pulls him close for another long and lingering kiss, and only parts enough to speak, their lips still brushing as he does. )

I know that. I don't understand it, but I know it. You've more than proven your devotion; I have no reason to doubt that your heart truly belongs to me.

( He lets out a soft breath, almost as if he's laughing at himself a little. )

You do so much for me, Lestat. More than I could ever ask for... more than I even want, sometimes, though I wouldn't change that part of your nature or any other. It's only that I want to give you that same happiness in return. My company doesn't feel like enough.

( Though, he believes he could be content with nothing but Lestat's companionship, and not a single other frivolous luxury. )

[ As the ribbon slides from his hair, Lestat feels almost as if with the movement Louis is removing the persona of the handsome and glittering man who flourishes under the attention of any and all eyes that turn toward him at the Gala, and revealing instead the tenderhearted man who lies beneath, who is always a certain few words away from weeping, who would sooner let the place burn down than let Louis think for even a moment that his position at Lestat’s side is not enough.

He can’t look at Louis from this proximity, but he can feel the smile pressed against his mouth and he can feel the soft exhalation of his laugh. He can feel that this doesn’t weigh Louis down, that it isn’t a highlight of his shortcomings or his failure to make Louis happy… it’s simply the way Louis feels, and the way he probably always will feel. Lestat’s hands hold Louis’ waist a little tighter, curious fingers pressing intently against the well made seams of his waistcoat as if they’d like nothing more than to slit the seams and dive inside. ]

You say such things as if you don’t already make me happy.

[ He kisses him then, and it's a far cry from the soft touches they’ve shared so far. Instead, it’s hard and insistent, as though his whispers of reunion from earlier have grown into a tumult of desperate relief at having the one he loves close again, describing aptly without words exactly how he might crumble were Louis to ever not be within arms reach again. ]

I chose you, didn’t I? [ He asks, once he’s taken his fill of kissing Louis deep enough to steal the air from his lungs. ] I picked you from a crowd of mortals, I made you mine. I told you, all those years ago, that I could have picked anyone, but I picked you.

[ Back then it had been a cruel thing he’d flung at Louis, the truth but without the context that spoke of his soft heart, spat with enough acid to sound like a threat. Lestat’s hands move to the front of Louis’ torso, fingers sliding under the fabric of his clothes, between the layers to lay a palm against his stomach. His touch is intent, caressing, constant. ]

You know how I am when I want something, don’t you? I am relentless, I am unstoppable. I wanted you, Louis, and now I have you, but I have never wanted anything the way I want you. No-one makes me as foolish as you do. No-one makes me feel the way you do. I feel helpless around you. The idea of you being anywhere other than at my side terrifies me.

[ His mouth falls, to kiss his throat again, so that when his words come they’re pressed against the sensitive skin there. ]

When you returned to me, when you fell into my arms the way I’d always wanted you to… I’d never felt happiness like it.

You are more than I deserve, but I’m much too selfish to let you go.

( Louis exhales in a rush, and a soft groan of surprise escapes him as the familiar cool touch of Lestat's fingers meets the sensitive skin of his stomach. It's powerfully erotic, and he feels a stir of hunger for more than just blood beginning in his core. Oh, he shouldn't get caught up in this, shouldn't want to escape his responsibilities to let Lestat have the whole of him in their bed, and show Lestat just how much he needs him in return.

But he can't help the wanting, not when the memory of those early years feels so close and the veil of time so gossamer-thin that he can almost hear the sound of carriage wheels on cobblestone. It aches — sweetly, but an ache nevertheless — to think of those long decades together but so seldom close enough to touch, and Lestat wanting him, longing for him, the entire time. What if Louis had fallen into his arms then? )

Oh, your words are poetry...

( Louis swallows, his throat moving beneath Lestat's lips. Fingers tighten in his hair, encouraging, and Louis' chin tips downward to kiss the crown of Lestat's head, murmuring against him. )

And I can hardly find the breath to speak when you touch me like this. You know I feel the same way, don't you? I was alone for all those years by choice. Even at my most bitter and resentful, you were the only one I dreamed of. You were the one whose voice I longed to hear. A memory of the sun amidst a world of darkness and candlelight.

( He sighs softly. )

Only I've never missed the sun the way that I missed you.

[ Lestat hadn't meant for it to be quite so sensual, this trading of truths and sweet nothings between them both, but only as he feels his lover's hands tighten in his hair to urge on his progress does he realise how close to sin they are.

Holding Louis like this, hands against his skin like he'd longed for but never could have had when they were together in New Orleans -- pushing him up in some secluded corner enshrouded by darkness, Louis' hands pushing at his shoulders to no avail until eventually he started to cling, desperate for Lestat not to stop once he's started, now that there's no going back, years of longing spilling out, like hot blood down the sides of a crystal glass, from a wound that still hasn't healed, still pouring with nowhere to go, no outlet, no end -- is unmistakeably venereous. Even the sweetness of their words, the loving poetry they make together, seems only to fuel how sinful it feels to have his hands on Louis' body like this, to be treasuring him so sweetly while his body hungers for him. ]

Who speaks poetry now?

[ Lestat murmurs against his throat, his tongue finding the elegant concave of flesh where his windpipe curves inwards, bracketed by his jugular, and pressing up against his pulse. Lestat can taste cologne on his skin, and the scent of sweat that can't be Louis' own. It makes his heart-rate pick up excitedly, claws scratching ever so slightly against Louis' stomach. ]

You can't breathe to speak and yet you do, for me. You spent all that time alone, just thinking of me. Oh, Louis, you've been mine this whole time, haven't you? Find breath enough to tell me it's true, my heart, don't lose your words now...

[ In other words, keep talking. ]

( A soft sound and a shiver escape him, his stomach twitching beneath Lestat's nails. He feels Lestat's quickening pulse with a sense deeper than mere hearing, as if some ancient machinery deep inside of him is forever attuned to that sound. He wonders what inspired that quickening — if it's merely an effect of Lestat's cool tongue dragging against his throat and making Louis' own pulse hasten too, or if he's thinking of something more. )

Yes, yours, always yours, eternally. I've been yours since you made me. I fought it, I tried to resist, and it only made me more miserable.

( It might sound accusatory if his voice weren't softened by sighs, speaking of his need as if it were something as inevitable as the rising of the sun and just as fatally beautiful. His nails rake Lestat's scalp lightly, teasingly, a promise for later and encouragement for now. He swallows, another breath shivering out of him beneath Lestat's lips. His head is swimming pleasantly, but he reaches for something remembered and grasps it, his voice sweet and light. )

Did you ever read Plato? He wrote that each of us is a matching half of a being that was split in two, forever seeking his missing piece. That's what love is: the desire to be complete.

[ The trembling flesh beneath his hands and the kneading fingers in his hair are all he needs to force him onwards, to continue the path of opened mouthed kisses against Louis’ sensitive throat, to chase every particle of unfamiliar scent from him and drink it down like he would the blood. The idea of Louis in another’s arms yet still thinking of him, still craving his fangs and his touch, is maddeningly enticing and almost proves too good to resist as Lestat lets his fangs scrape ever so slightly across Louis’ windpipe…

The sweet, romantic words bring him back to his senses enough to not act so quickly, to settle for merely letting his wrists test the resistance of Louis’ clothes against him as he tries to slide his hands up further, fingers and palms desperate to map out his chest as if he hasn’t touched him for weeks rather than hours. ]

Mm, I remember thinking it fascinating; the idea that no matter what kind of man I turned out to be, that there would be someone out there to fit against me perfectly.

[ His words tumble across Louis’ flesh like curls of smoke, breath stronger than the evening wind about them. Louis’ hair tickles his face, but he doesn’t move it aside, instead burying his nose in it as his mouth presses against the taut tendons in his neck where he willingly tips his head to give Lestat more room. ]

To make up for what I lack, to teach me, to change me. [ He shifts and kisses the soft skin beneath Louis’ Adam’s apple, cursing the smartness of his dress and the well-fitted button at his collar that denies him entry. ] To make me feel whole.

I wanted to believe it, but it felt like wishful thinking. It’s only now I see the possibility in it. I was so captivated by you, despite having never spoken a word to you. I wanted you in a way I’ve never wanted anyone. I still do.

Lestat...

( Louis lets out a breath shaped by a smile, the crown of his head tipped back against the wall. His back arches, his chest pushing eagerly toward Lestat's touch. His heart pounds at the thought that someone might stumble by at any moment and see them like this — catch them in the act, as they say. But there's a buzzing under his skin that's more from excitement than fear.

Would it be so bad to be spotted? To have someone (or everyone) know that Lestat wants him badly enough to steal him away from the gala for this? He would be flustered beyond reason if anyone were to actually call him on it. But in the moment, with Lestat's cool hands roaming his skin, it doesn't seem such a terrible consequence.

Louis presses his thumb to the spot where Lestat's neck meets the base of his skull, holding him there against his neck even as he tries to chide him: )

You're going to send me back to work in wrinkled clothes if you keep at this, is that what you want? ( He lets out a huff. ) It probably is.

[ Lestat can’t repress the laugh he lets out against Louis skin, and rather than the peal of church bells it’s instead something smooth and satisfied; Louis has fallen into his trap and, satisfied, Lestat flicks his tongue out against his windpipe to taste the powerful scent of another man and the distinct taste of smoke from his skin.

He felt that quickening pulse, the thrill of excitement through Louis as Lestat’s wandering hands sought to make their quick tryst something that couldn’t be so easily explained away, and he wonders what is going through Louis’ mind as he fantasises about having to return in such a state – what people might think, what they might assume. Is it Lestat’s possessive passion, or the idea of getting caught, that’s more exciting to him? ]

I could send you back with more than that, if you’d like; enough that should anyone else come close enough to kiss you, they might think twice.

[ He doesn’t sound dangerous, nor particularly annoyed, and that’s because he isn’t. His tone is as playful as he feels, fingers kneading into Louis’ flesh like a pleased cat as his mouth scatters idle kisses across his throat, wondering if Louis will flush so dark Lestat will feel the burn of blood under the skin there. ]

( Thud goes Louis' heart in his chest. Lestat's playful tone and the knowing subtext in it sends a faint, humming blush straight to Louis' cheeks, and he squirms like his spine is trying to contort itself into a pretzel. )

You— That was the mistletoe!

( Louis gives Lestat's hair a tug, and kicks petulantly at his foot with a fine, pointed boot. He hadn't hated kissing Reno; it was pleasant enough in a purely physical sense. The man clearly knows what he's doing when it comes to seduction, and yet he's too earnest for Louis to really resent, no matter how they came to know each other. But to Louis, having someone else's hands and attention on him felt wrong in a way that he doesn't know how to explain to Lestat.

On one hand, he's relieved that Lestat isn't jealous. On the other hand, he had felt an undeniable pang of discontent at how naturally and effortlessly Lestat could sweep someone else into his arms. Louis can tell he's even fed himself a bit. So he sounds entirely flustered and defensive when he replies: )

I was in need of a diversion, and he asked me to dance. It would have been impolite to refuse, no matter how terrible the music might have been.

[ He honestly isn’t expecting the rough treatment, so he retracts somewhat from where he’d been kissing and pawing at Louis, to instead lean his hand on the wall and loom over him to study his face. Distracted by the silhouette of a poet that Louis casts, Lestat quite often forgets how physical and brutish he can be given enough reason - aspects of his lingering human nature, perhaps. However, it is still, like most things about Louis, entirely addictive to Lestat regardless of how it had shocked him. ]

A diversion? Oh, Louis, and here I was thinking you quite enjoyed your little clipboard job.

[ Lestat has a feeling the responsibility wasn’t the only thing Louis was looking for a respite from, considering just before he’d spotted the two of them together he’d been needling at Fearne and her handsome date in that secluded little alcove… ]

But I wasn’t asking for an explanation, you know. Mistletoe or not, it was quite the sight to behold. I couldn’t take my eyes off of you.

[ Not jealous, yes, and certainly not blind to the clear attraction between the two, either. Lestat can’t deny how fascinating it is to see Louis react to those advances from someone who isn’t him. ]

( In spite of his annoyance, Louis is disappointed to lose Lestat's hands on him, and his face falls a little when Lestat leans against the wall instead. He recovers quickly, though, and takes a firm but gentle hold of Lestat's lapels, keeping him close even as his lips resume their flustered frown. Louis doesn't know what to make of Lestat's reaction, or why he should seem so pleased with himself; he's probably thinking of the little scheme he'd envisioned for the three of them, Louis thinks, but there's no one Louis can blame for it but himself.

Huff. )

I assumed your eyes were preoccupied.

( It feels unfair, somehow, that Lestat should get the upper hand in this again. Unfair, too, that Louis is still wildly attracted to him and his knowing grin. But Louis doesn't especially want to argue, particularly when he has a feeling that the problem really lies with him. His glower softens slightly, and some of his desperate confusion slips through. )

... I don't understand.

( His voice is soft and genuine, and almost confessional, as if he's admitting something he's vaguely ashamed of. Lestat's mind is so different from his own. )

I used to tie myself into knots thinking of what you might get up to with the mortals you charmed. The only thing more agonizing was when you did it somewhere you knew I would see.

[ Lestat carefully watches the way Louis’ expression twists as he hangs onto his lapels as though he’s trying to keep him here, when really it’s baffling to imagine any situation where he might want to leave. Even that pinch of his eyebrows and the tell-tale sign of a glare starting to form don’t make him want to run, although he does lose a little of the laughter in his expression as he realises that he’s the only one enjoying this teasing.

He lifts his hand to gently hold one of Louis’ wrists, fingers over his pulse and his thumb running softly back and forth across his skin. Soothing, or perhaps coaxing. It’s rare, after all, to have Louis so honest with his own emotions without being prompted or tricked into confession. Again, Lestat feels like he’s coaxing an unwilling creature into what’s best for it. ]

What are you telling me, Louis?

[ He’d said used to - does that mean he no longer ties himself in knots over his worries? The way he looks is evidence to the contrary. And what is it that he doesn’t understand, exactly? ]

I know how it felt, I would do it on purpose to get under your skin, after all… but not one aspect of this is the same as it was back then. You know that, don’t you?

I know. I know, everything is different now, which must mean that I'm the one that hasn't really changed.

( Which is both dramatic and untrue, but he wants to blame someone for how he feels, and he's the only person here besides Lestat. With a little sigh through his nose, Louis lets Lestat soothe him, trying to relax as the gentle, steady back-and-forth sweep of Lestat's thumb quiets him the same way the sound of his heartbeat does. If he hadn't changed, he wouldn't be here, trusting Lestat with his feelings, baring his most delicate sensitivities willingly without any fear that Lestat might go in for the kill.

He pulls his gaze back to Lestat's eyes from where he'd been staring, unfocused, at the embroidery of the waistcoat against his chest. )

You and I have different appetites. That's simply a fact. I suppose...

( He takes a breath, head tipped curiously to one side, studying Lestat as if he might read his thoughts through his eyes alone. )

I suppose I'm asking you what it is that you found so appealing about watching me. Perhaps I might come to see it as you do, rather than being the way I am.

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