[open mingle: the sunlight at midnight gala]

[badfeyth]

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.

Comments

[deathoftheauthor]

( It doesn't make sense, Lestat tells him, but the way he maps it out, Louis can follow the logic of it perfectly. Not that these things follow any kind of logic — it would be so much simpler if they did — but for perhaps the first time in his life, Louis can comprehend the appeal, instead of feeling vaguely disconcerted by the premise. His ears feel warm, and the pulse in his wrists make the cuffs of his shirt feel too tight.

But Lestat's last words surprise him, and he's startled by the sudden spike of tenderness he feels amidst his own uncertainty. To hear Lestat admit that he was ever terrified, ever at Louis' mercy in that way... of course Louis knows it now, but hearing it aloud is so different. It makes Louis want to be gentle with him, to protect that vulnerability however he can so he never wounds him again.

Louis leans in to kiss him, hands firm against his chest, searching for the steady beat of his heart. It starts off slow and sweet and chaste, a kiss to thank Lestat for his honesty, but he lingers there, and parts his lips to coax Lestat's tongue into his mouth. His arms have come around Lestat's shoulders again by the time they part, and he doesn't want to pull away; he lingers there, his forehead against Lestat's here in the quiet, private dark. )

And to know I was thinking of you even then?

[perfectdevil]

[ The kiss is hardly surprising given the nature of their conversation – Lestat has often found in his most romantic moods that a kiss says a great deal of things better than any words ever could, and has often utilised such a tactic when his overwhelming feelings become a little too much to parse in Louis’ company - but what is surprising is the mounting intensity of it. It feels as if Louis is blossoming beneath his touch, grasping his meaning with both hands and latching on for all he’s worth, willingly allowing himself to be completely carried away by Lestat’s honesty…

And then their mouths part. Lestat’s mouth is left hanging open, his tongue lolling like a dog, not quite ready for the intensity to be over so soon. He’s also not ready for Louis to murmur something like that against his lips, so earnest but somehow sultry at the same time. Lestat groans like Louis said something particularly filthy, hands falling away from his wrists to paw at his chest again, pressing in like he might push through fabric and flesh and into Louis’ skin like he were an overripe fruit. ]

God, I know you were thinking of me, of course I know you were, but to hear you say it…

[ Lestat bullies him into another kiss, though it’s a weak effort since Louis responds to him so readily, opens up to him so easily. Lestat is sure he could wrestle him out of his clothes if he wanted, and even finds his fingertips budging almost impatiently at the shining metal buttons of his waistcoat as he prises his mouth open again and resumes their kiss where he left off. He only pauses when his fangs start to feel sharp, when the friction of their tongues starts to light a fire in him he knows will soon burn out of control, and forces himself to pull back and return them to the pose of two lovers huddled into a corner, foreheads pressed together just as firmly as the line of their bodies. ]

Who is the better kisser, then?

[ He’s teasing, quite obviously, but he’s breathless with desire or adoration or both, and it therefore comes out a little weaker than it usually might. ]

[deathoftheauthor]

( Louis exhales, a shaky rush of breath that manages to sound both exasperated and wildly aroused. )

Do you want me to stomp on your nice shoes again?

( But something in the eager, sweet tone of Lestat's voice stops Louis from feeling off-balance again. There's that heady sense of having Lestat at his mercy, at least as much as Louis is at his. He bumps the toe of his shoe against Lestat's, but gently, teasingly, almost apologetic for his unbecoming outburst. He runs his fingers through Lestat's hair, curling in a light grip at the back of his neck, a gesture that is both possessive and seeking something steady and certain to hold onto. )

What would you do if I told you it was him? If I said that I think you need practice?

( Louis' breath trembles, like the idea is so ridiculous that he can't stop himself from laughing. He wants to give just as good as he gets, but oh, it's difficult. If Lestat were an imperfect kisser, well, how could he know? That imperfection, then, would be the only thing Louis could ever want. )

[perfectdevil]

[ Lestat reacts like Louis' touch has electricity coursing through it; his spine arches into the curl of fingers at the nape of his neck, his mouth falling open in a soundless gasp of excitement as the memory of Louis' instinctive lashing out returns to him.

It had felt good to have him tug on his hair like that, but it feels even better now that Louis is measuring his strength, testing resistance in both of them and testing Lestat's possessive nature at the same time.

Lestat is comfortable with Louis, yes, but there's still some small part of him that feels the burn of green envy twist when Louis suggests that Reno might be a better kisser than him. He knows it's meant to tease, that he and Louis kiss so perfectly that no one else could compare... and yet.

The hands on Louis' chest shift, one pressing over his heart to feel his pulse, the other taking Louis by the chin so it's easier for Lestat to keep him still while he kisses him, hard. He can feel Louis' head softly bump against the wall behind them and still he pushes, with his tongue and his teeth and his lips, devouring his lover, inhaling him in, fingers pressing insistently, his breath warmed through.

When they part, Lestat lasciviously licks the taste of Louis from his lips, maintaining strong and confident eye contact. ]

If you told me that, I'd do anything to prove you wrong.

[deathoftheauthor]

( The kiss does its job, and by the time Lestat pulls back, Louis has nearly forgotten what it was they were kissing so passionately about. He blinks his eyes open slowly, looking at Lestat through his eyelashes, pupils wide and dark from arousal and thirst and reflecting Lestat's gaze like twin mirrors. His tongue, too, sweeps across his lips to catch the taste of Lestat still lingering there, an unconscious imitation of Lestat; finally he presses the point of his fang into the swell of the lower, almost smiling. )

Anything...?

( It's undeniably suggestive, and Louis' heart speeds up beneath Lestat's hand, a physical reaction to desire as keen as any mortal's body could produce. He does burst into a smile, then, no more able to hide his amusement than his hunger for Lestat. )

You're making it very tempting to lie, if that's to be my reward for teasing you. ( He tugs playfully at a lock of Lestat's hair wound around his fingers. ) Is that why you're like this?

[perfectdevil]

[ Lestat is pinned in place by that dark gaze, his eyes glittering with what’s unspoken between them, ready to react given nothing more than a word… It’s practically instinct by this point to reply to Louis’ question with his typical romantic response, and it’s almost entirely formed on his tongue when he feels Louis tug at his hair, and a helpless smile warms on his face, spreading like sunlight through leaves. ]

Hmm, figured it out, have you? [ He murmurs, his expression turning pleased as a cat with a mouse’s tail pinned under it’s paw. ] I have never enjoyed lying to you, Louis, but I can hardly resist toying with you sometimes, especially when I can almost predict to the letter how you’ll react.

[ The hand over his heart stays firm, fingers against each slow beat of his heart, feeling the blood beneath the layers of clothes and skin, reluctant to draw away - but his other hand… well, his other hand starts to shift down from Louis’ chin, to his collar, and suddenly the pesky button there keeping Louis looking proper is unfastened, his tie loosened. Beneath, where Louis’ skin is pale and sensitive and chilled by the night air, Lestat slides his fingers in to brush over the swell of the artery running down his throat. ]

I know just where to put my hands on you, what to say, how to lower my voice so that your thoughts will linger on my every word for nights after I’ve spoken them; and in return, the sounds you give me and the look in your eyes… Oh Louis, you drive me mad.

[ His fingers press in, ever so slightly, his eyes watching the point of Louis’ fang and wishing it was his own. ]

I don’t have any room for true jealousy in my heart that’s already suffocated by devotion to you.

[deathoftheauthor]

( The smile on Lestat's face is so warm and affectionate that Louis almost can't remember what it used to look like curled into a mocking grin. And how many times in those miserable years had he mistaken such warmth for malice and shunned it before it could grow into more? I have never enjoyed lying to you, Louis, Lestat tells him, and Louis does believe him, mad as it would have sounded to him once.

Louis shivers deeply at the touch of fingers to that most sensitive of spots, the artery in his throat pulsing delicately beneath cool fingertips that still seem warmer than the night air around them. It's barely the ghost of a bite, not even the slightest drag of nails to indicate where fangs might pierce his flesh... but Louis feels his pulse rise to it all the same, commanded by the masterful work of Lestat's fingers. Lestat is right, of course, that he knows how to do all of those things. Louis doesn't like the thought that he might be predictable, but at the same time, there's a comfort in being known so well by the only person whose opinion of him truly matters. )

Suffocated by devotion...

( With a sigh, Louis shuts his eyes and for a moment simply lets himself succumb to pure sensation. He strokes the back of Lestat's neck, weighing his own desire, his own resistance, thinking of tipping back his chin and letting Lestat take his from that vein beneath his fingers so that some part of him — not just the ring — is with Lestat tonight, no matter where he goes or what he does. Louis inside of him, in his veins, in his heart...

Softly: )

You must know what I'm thinking now, then, what thoughts you're putting in my head when you touch me like that...

[perfectdevil]

[ Lestat can feel the hum of Louis’ blood under his touch, responsive and quick even to a touch so light. Intention burns through both of them, and Lestat’s eyes turn from Louis’ lower lip to the line of blue beneath pallid flesh, following it down to where his fingers make the skin dip in, where the vein bulges against him, where Louis’ pulse is as visible and as tempting as a siren song… He’s mesmerised by the visible beat of his heart for a few moments, captivated by the strength of it and the way Louis’ body seems to pull him into a vaccum where there isn’t and cant be anything else but the two of them, linked by scarlet threads until the end of time… ]

Mm, yes, I know. I’m having quite the effect on you, aren’t I? Another few decades of this and why, I’ll have ruined your good manners completely; tempted you entirely. You might even be interested in joining Midnight’s proposed business venture as one of his entertainers for hire.

[ His voice started off as a purr, but soon enough is dispersed with enough laughter that his manner becomes a little less seductive and a little more teasing. To make up for it, he dips his head forward, to press an open mouthed kiss to Louis’ jaw, to quell any petulant remark of protest that might be forming on his lover’s lips. Against his skin he murmurs: ]

I’m teasing. Even I don’t think I could stand to see you on display like that for long. A few temptations here and there is exciting, but that… Mm, I’d be much too tempted to remind people of my claim on you.

[deathoftheauthor]

( Just as Lestat probably hoped, Louis' face scrunches into a perfectly cranky frown at the teasing. But Lestat's kiss to his jaw is perfectly timed, and instead of a grumble, an open-mouthed gasp leaves his throat, a soft exhale of pleasure that seems impossibly loud here in the quiet shadows of the building, sending a thrill through him at the danger of being found out. He tips his head back in offering, hand curling at the back of Lestat's hair and holding him there.

A rush of an exhale. )

Who else would be mad enough to want my company like that?

( Besides Armand, perhaps. Louis' ankle hooks around Lestat's, urging him closer, wanting more, quick and clandestine though it might be. He shouldn't encourage Lestat's fantasies, probably, but the purr of his voice is so tempting, and the thought of Lestat's possessiveness and the blood pounding hot in his throat mingle into a silent chorus: drink me, have me, make me yours... )

How would you do that? Lay your claim on me?

[perfectdevil]

[ The fingers pressing into Louis’ pulse feel the tick of his heart pick up in speed at the same time that Lestat’s preternatural hearing – always tuned to the exact frequency of Louis’ heart, it seems – does. He smirks, opening his mouth to ghost a breath over the place he’d kissed before moving down, thrilled at the sensation of Louis’ voice vibrating against his lips as he speaks. ]

Oh, Louis. Don’t act innocent now. You and I both know how, don’t we?

[ This throat, so pale and so easily given up for him with nothing more than a press of intention and some sweet words. ]

You’re much more attractive than you realise. You had a man dazzled in your arms tonight and you still don’t believe it? Or, hm, let me guess… [ His kiss lingers as though in thought, and then he flicks his tongue across cool skin in a movement so fast like the strike of lightning. ] You’d prefer to chalk it up to the mistletoe and nothing more, hm?

[ A little laugh, and Lestat’s weight becomes a little heavier as he leans in, sealing his body against Louis’ to pin him between his form and the wall. He can hear the desperate chant in Louis’ urgency to pull him closer, but he isn’t quite done teasing just yet. ]

You could read the dictionary and be perfectly enticing with that alone. You have a perfectly frustrating manner when you debate philosophy that ought to have any sensible human frothing at the mouth. And that’s without a single comment for how beautiful you are, and how there is so much of you worthy of worship; your eyes, the purse of your mouth, your even shoulders, your narrow hips, your long legs— ah, your hands… Most of all, your hands.

[ Lestat presses his nose into the flesh where his throat meets his shoulder, inhaling the cigarette smoke clinging to his collar, inhaling the faint scent of the world trying to give Louis’ skin a smell where there is none. He flicks out his tongue again, tastes nothing but the night air and the faint tang of Louis’ sweat. He exhales a breath that’s surprisingly shaky. ]

We heal slower here, as we’ve found. Wounds don’t disappear as fast. [ … ] Do you remember what I said about love bites on our first night here? That I thought it wouldn’t be possible to leave such a mark?

[deathoftheauthor]

( Lestat is right: Louis would prefer to chalk it up to mistletoe. He knows he's attractive, but he doesn't have any pride in it; if anything, it's a source of discomfort to think that his preternatural beauty might lure people in against his will. If only he were ugly, he could be as sullen and argumentative as he pleased, and no one would commit atrocities for the sake of being near him. He's still glad to know that Lestat finds him pleasant to look upon, though, even if his other sweet words mean far more. He hopes that Lestat never stops treasuring the small things he finds dull about himself.

With a little groan, he lets Lestat's weight press him into the wall, tilting his chin willingly, his body tensing in anticipation of the bite. He loves it when Lestat gets this way, breathes him in as if he might satisfy the thirst raging in his veins through sense alone — or perhaps, as Louis sometimes does, hoping against hope to discern some faint scent that belongs purely to him, something he might carry with him on his clothes and hair even after they part.

Then Lestat asks him that, and his brows come together in a wondering frown. )

... Of course I remember. I think about it all too frequently.

( He sounds frustrated about it even now. )

[perfectdevil]

Oh you do, do you?

[ He hums in consideration, his smile pressed against Louis’ throat to make it all but impossible to not notice how cheeky he’s being with that comment.

Lestat’s hands slide across Louis’ shoulders, to the inside of his elbows, along the fine material of his shirt till he finds his wrists and gives them an insistent pull. When Louis’ hands retract from him and abandon the curl of his hair, Lestat links their fingers with gentle but insistent pressure, before pushing those back against the wall too, pinning him in place like a butterfly beneath glass.

A soft laugh escapes him, flickering across the places he’d kissed on Louis’ neck, before he’s nudging Louis’ chin upward with his nose, encouraging him to tip his head back to let Lestat loose on the full expanse of his neck. ]

In that case, what do you say about letting me try such a thing now? Leaving one just here- [ He kisses the place in question, on the left side of Louis’ throat, just above where his collar would sit were it fastened. ] –so that it’s all too clear you belong to me?

[deathoftheauthor]

( Louis sucks in a sharp breath, shivering at the delicate brush of lips at his throat, a marked contrast to the imagined plunge of fangs into his flesh. His blood sings in his veins, pulse racing beneath Lestat's touch, as if the very life that animates him longs to give itself over to his beloved. The wall against his back is cool and hard, just like the press of Lestat's body against his, and he's entirely unable to stifle the thoroughly inappropriate thoughts bubbling out of his mind like a pot boiling over. )

Demon.

( There's a begrudging how dare you do this to me tone to his voice, but he sighs the word in a way that leaves no doubt that it's a term of endearment. His fingers twitch in Lestat's grasp, and he flexes to test his own strength, but that's as close as he comes to a struggle. Louis wonders why he doesn't simply say no immediately, why he's actually considering something so scandalous. He should put his foot down right now. But he doesn't. )

... I doubt that I could leave you one to match.

[perfectdevil]

[ The sound of that name said in such a way might turn a man less confident toward doubt and insecurity, but Lestat seems to bristle with pleasure in response, like some great, proud bird ruffling its feathers. He doesn’t think for even a second that Louis has any intention of denying him, and all because he doesn’t say no; he doesn’t struggle beyond testing their difference in strength, he doesn’t kick petulantly with his foot or raise his voice or snap in the way Lestat knows he’s oh so good at. Instead, Louis’ heart-rate picks up against Lestat’s lips, and when he grins he can almost feel his fangs ache as they press up against the barrier of Louis’ throat. ]

Well, we’ll never know unless you try. Say what you will about our differences in strength, but you can be very stubborn.

[ Another tease, and probably Lestat’s last since he doesn’t actually want to make Louis so sour that he refuses out of spite. He wants it too, after all, he just has to feel like agreeing isn’t for his benefit alone. ]

Let me do it, Louis. It may only last a few minutes, but let me try…

[ His voice is coaxing, tempting, alluring in the way Lestat has perfected it to be; but beneath it there is a particular kind of need he doesn’t usually show, something private and only for Louis. He kisses that spot again, then opens his mouth to breathe over the spot, to let his fangs create ever so gentle pressure. ]

And then, I’ll give you what we both want.

[deathoftheauthor]

( Louis inhales slowly, as if to steady or soothe something within himself, but what that thing is even he can't be sure. It isn't as if this actually matters. At worst, what? The mark lasts, and someone might (but probably won't) make a comment implying that he and Lestat have been doing precisely what they have in fact been doing out here, and Louis will flush with an odd, contradictory mixture of embarrassment and possessive pride. Most likely it won't last at all... and that thought comes with a surprising swell of premature disappointment.

So he does want it, then.

When Louis lets out a breath, it's all in a single long rush, ruffling Lestat's hair at his shoulder and letting it fall again to tickle Louis' cheek. )

All right. I'll accept a love bite. But only if I can attempt the same again on you.

( His hands flex in Lestat's grip, almost a challenge, certainly a promise. )

Do it. Prove I'm yours.

[perfectdevil]

[ Lestat has always felt a kind of helpless enjoyment when he successfully encourages Louis to give in to his demands — when he finally pries open his lover's tightly wound fist and gets his own way — but something about this particular acquiescence has the dynamic of power feeling slightly skewed. After all, it's not every day one hears a command like that.

Lestat shudders, his fingers flexing where they hold Louis' hands resolute against the cold brick of the wall behind him, his body pressing forward insistently enough that it might make Louis' bones creak were he a human. His mouth opens, a thrill of obedience rushing through his veins as he closes his mouth against Louis' throat as he has so many times before... only this time he keeps his fangs back, tucked behind his lips so that the points merely brush the surface of his flesh. Then, Lestat hollows his cheeks and sucks as if he'd driven them deep into Louis' jugular.

Blood screams beneath his lips, swelling against the layers of Louis' throat, outraged at being so close yet so far from him. Lestat groans with the tease of it all, something stirring in his chest and left there to diffuse into his limbs rather than ricocheting through his nerves or settling back down to be subdued.

He draws back only when the constant pressure of that sensation becomes too much for his patience to withstand. His tongue laps against the mark as if he had drawn blood, but when he looks down to survey his handiwork, he sees only an angry purple-red mark mottling the colourless stretch of Louis' throat. ]

Oh... [ He murmurs, his eyes delighting in the sight of it, able to pick out every shade of the bruise and every broken blood vessel spilling under his skin. ] Louis...

[deathoftheauthor]

( The choked sound of mingled pleasure and surprise that escapes Louis' love-bitten throat would be devastatingly embarrassing if only he could hear himself. He's dimly aware that he's made some kind of noise, but it hardly seems to matter when Lestat's mouth is sucking at his skin as if his flesh itself were blood. His body is a throb of want, and he can feel his heartbeat racing, pounding, throbbing toward Lestat's fangs. He lets out another sound, this time a long, low whine, and the back of his head hits the cool wall behind him as he stretches his chin upward to make space for Lestat to go on.

But Lestat doesn't go on. And when he pulls back Louis is left shivering with desire, fingers twitching, the tendons in his wrists straining beneath Lestat's grasp. )

What?

( The word is a rough exhalation. Louis blinks as if clearing something from his eyes, returning to himself, remembering the aim of this whole endeavor. His gaze flicks downward for a moment, head tilting slightly as he instinctively tries to get a look at Lestat's handiwork. )

Did it work? It must have, you look very pleased with yourself.

( There's a faint ring of exasperation to Louis' voice, though he isn't sure whether it's meant for Lestat or for himself or for the both of them, being so caught up in this ridiculousness. But mostly he sounds fond and warm and a little amazed, and he wets his lips unconsciously as he looks at Lestat's throat, wondering. )

[perfectdevil]

[ The sight of Louis with his head tipped back against the wall, his body stretched and pale and yearning so completely for his touch that he seems to quiver with need for him, is one that Lestat wills to be burned in its entirety into the tomes of his memory. It’s moments like this one where Lestat can’t quite believe that the man before him has the audacity to be modest with the knowledge of his charm, that he could ever assume his beauty is more preternatural than anything else, that he could deny the fact that he is captivating right down to the slow beat of his eyelashes and the faint tense slope of his shoulders as he trembles with need for approval.

Lestat actually hisses through his teeth when he feels the warm pang in his chest he can’t help but recognise as hunger. More than anything he wants to continue this act until Louis is covered in bruises and marks, to bite and not let it heal, to see that delicate skin covered in his claim like a hot brand, like bloody footprints in the snow… but Louis had allowed him this one, and Lestat feels a tremor in himself now as he lets himself be pinned under the instruction.

That, and he fact that it would be impossible to miss the way Louis glances down at his throat. It sends a bolt of excitement through him, and his hands twitch around Louis’ wrists. ]

Oh, it worked.

[ Lestat wants to press his fingers to the mark, but settles for letting his eyes rake coals across it instead. ]

It’s blossoming fast. Better than I could have ever imagined. [ He meets Louis’ eyes just for a moment, his grin curling between self-satisfied and excited, like an explorer feeling the high of a new discovery.] I hope it lingers long enough for you to see it.

[deathoftheauthor]

( A flush blooms in Louis' cheeks, and something complicated and hot unfurls in his chest to go with it — desire, longing, envy, keen awareness of the uneven position he and Lestat are in and may always be in, even now that they're sharing blood, and Louis still unchanged. For a moment Louis thinks he doesn't want to try it on Lestat at all, because if it doesn't work it's surely proof of something, and he would rather not know it.

He pushes against Lestat's grip, insistent now, not simply testing. It seems as if he might try to pull away; even Louis himself isn't sure what he's going to do. Finally he opens his mouth, the tips of his white fangs showing beneath pale pink lips. A breath shudders out of him. )

I want to try.

( Green eyes flash, intense and hungry, the muscles of his throat tensing as he strains forward. )

Lestat. ( Louis swallows. His tongue wets his lips. ) Let me do it to you.

[perfectdevil]

So demanding. By now surely I should be more accustomed to finding the bite point where your saintly patience runs dry, but you never fail to surprise me.

[ Something about feeling Louis’ wrists strain against his hold sets something alight in his mind, like wind rattling the panes of a window, the eventual break through all but inevitable but held at bay for however long the glass holds fast… He boxes it away for later consideration – whether in a week from now or tonight, spoken aloud against the flesh of Louis’ throat, tangled up in their dark, private space in those dazzling and diffused moments before they fall asleep – and focuses in on the intent in Louis’ shining green eyes instead.

He trails his tongue over his own lips, his fangs almost aching to taste the hunger he can practically see flooding Louis’ veins. He’s reminded almost of an animal being restrained, of holding a leash fast while a rowdy puppy whines to chase the birds pecking through the grounds after a night of rain. But the difference in power between them no longer feels concrete, rather syrupy and warm, rocked as if pulled between two equally attractive forces…

He inhales, and when he exhales the sound is so very almost a laugh that it makes him sound breathless. ]

Alright. As you wish.

[ He releases Louis hands, holding his up, and spins to gracefully press his own back against the wall. Once still, he blinks expectantly, his smile pleasant but eager. ]

[deathoftheauthor]

( Louis isn't expecting Lestat's sudden twirl, but he turns to follow, his face scrunched in that way that means he wants Lestat to know he's exasperated but doesn't actually want him to stop. If he were to admit that he actually enjoyed this behavior — these shenanigans, some might call them — that would spoil the game for both of them. )

My "saintly patience" ( air quotes are unnecessary; you can hear them in his voice ) is already wearing thin tonight.

( He takes the offer for what it is, but not before his eyes roam from Lestat's eyes down his body, his strong chest and narrow waist and long legs all the way to his fine shoes and back again. Only then does he step forward, sliding into Lestat's space with feline ease, his hands coming to circle Lestat's wrists. He lets out a soft sound, a barely audible groan that's more of a puff of air as he ducks his head into the crook of Lestat's neck; his thumbs caress the pulse points in Lestat's wrists, shivering at the twin echoes of the beating drum in his throat.

Louis almost forgets himself. )

I'm glad that I can still surprise you after all this time.

( His lips brush Lestat's neck as he speaks, sending a shiver of want through him. His hands squeeze around the fine bones in Lestat's wrists, and he opens his mouth to suck hard at Lestat's throat, the same as Lestat had done to him. It feels ridiculous for a moment, and then he's flooded with desire, the need to mark Lestat as his, to lay his claim, to be his equal in this...

The mark is faint but unmistakable when Louis finally pulls back, and his wide, astonished eyes are drawn as if by some unearthly force to the pale reddish-purple spot he's left on Lestat's skin. )

Oh...

[perfectdevil]

[ The roaming gaze would be enough to pin any normal man in place - such a clear performance of a predator assessing a meal as it is - but Lestat is far from a normal man, and where he should be feeling trepidation he feels only excitement. Devour me? I wish you would.

It's not a surprise, exactly, when Louis presses into his space with all the elegant manner of the creature he is, when he rubs his cold thumbs across Lestats hungry pulse and shudders under the insistence of it's strength... but it does make Lestat suddenly and distinctly aware of how unconditionally attracted to Louis he is.

He loves his gentle way, his kind heart and his defiant morals... quietly, he even loves that Louis struggles with what they are and what they must do to survive... but in this moment Lestat is sure beyond a shadow of a doubt that were Louis to become something ensanguined and insatiable, that he'd love him just the same.

The bruise doesn't hurt, it's more a precise kind of pressure, but he feels something warm flutter across him like the rolling heat from opening bay windows at night to a view of the Mississipi. It drips down his spine honey-like, spreading slow but only growing hotter with each spiralling eternity they spend attached-- and then it's over.

His eyes have fallen closed, and he only opens them when Louis makes a sound. Then, he lets out another breathless laugh and does his best to look as debauched as possible. If his wrists were free he might have even thrown one across his forehead. ]

Oh. Indeed. Pleased with your efforts, or would you like to lay a matching one on the other side? Or my collar bone, perhaps?

[deathoftheauthor]

Don't tempt me.

( Foolish thing to say, and he knows it, and perhaps that's the reason he says it. Louis lowers one hand to frame his work, the angle of his thumb and forefinger meeting below the purple-pink splotch in a bracketing V. He strokes the love bite once, then simply stares, as if beholding some new form of life, some wondrous species never before seen by living eyes. )

It's beautiful.

( His eyes meet Lestat's, wide and sincere, before he ducks his head to do just as Lestat suggests. One to match it on the other side, a kiss mark sucked into Lestat's pale skin with careful precision. Louis' thumb twitches at Lestat's pulse point; his breath shudders out of him, cool air on skin slick with saliva. )

Do you think mortals know it's beautiful? Or do they take this for granted, too?

[perfectdevil]

[ Don't tempt you? Oh, but why not? How can I resist when it's so fun? The words are on his lips and forming on his tongue when Louis leans forward to leave another mark at the other side as instructed. Lestat wasn't expecting it this time, was more ready for Louis' face to crumple in annoyance at being teased in such a way, so when it happens a high gasp of surprise slips from his mouth and his head tips back once more against the cold brickwork behind him.

Again, his eyes fall shut, but he keeps them shut even after Louis speaks, allowing the question to hang in the air as pleasure in the memory of Louis holding him down fizzles out to lingering pins and needles across his skin. ]

I think in this case they understand the appeal. [ His blue eyes flicker, and focus on Louis' green ones, like he's trying to convey some other meaning in his words through this look alone.] Perhaps not the extent of the beauty, but enough of it to want to do it again and again.