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Post by Nicolas de Lenfent on Apr 8, 2009 8:47:18 GMT -5
Nicolas laughed in response quite as gaily as he might have had they both still been mortal and hurriedly sneaking through the drafty chateau of the Marquis de Lioncourt, trying to find some secret place to... stay awhile (or some not so secret place, provided no one was in at the moment; neither had ever been precisely careful, and Nicki suspected they might have delighted in the chaos of being caught). He put his arms around Lestat's neck again and kissed him, speaking between kisses and trying to guide him to the bed of the small apartment without being able to see it. It worked. Sort of.
"All - That I need - Is - and has ever been - You," he said as he laughed, then reached up to hesitantly stroke his jawline, eyes darkening, a frown crossing his lips. "But you knew that already. Are you... are you really here?"
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Post by Lestat Lioncourt on Apr 9, 2009 4:38:34 GMT -5
Lestat replied in a hushed tone that fit him better than he expected. "I am" he leaned back to stare in to his old friends eyes, to stare in to the eyes that had comforted him in his weakest hours. They seemed so cold now, so distant, it was heartbreaking.
He of course took no blame for the man's distress, for that was just how Lestat was.
He wrapped his arms fully around Nicolas and rubbed the mans back as he slowly leaned back toward the bed, although he never once bent his knee's.
((You know this is so much hotter since I changed Lestat's picture, Tom Cruise just does not do it for me.))
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Post by Nicolas de Lenfent on Apr 9, 2009 13:28:24 GMT -5
((I always picture Lestat as Jarrod Branch. It makes me sleep better at night. Cruise just kind of... scares me.)) How strange, suddenly, this all seemed; how uncomfortable and cold. Lestat was not unresponsive, but this was not at all as it had been in mortality. Of course, that much was to be expected, that their vampire physiology had altered their ability to express love and affection and passion, and that it hadn't entirely ruined it should have been a blessing; but suddenly aware of the differences, their skin so much cooler even after having fed, and so much harder and their bodies so much stronger and more resilient, it was hard to put them out of mind. Nicolas broke away from Lestat and stepped to the side, clearly agitated and anguished, running his fingers through his hair rakingly, paced a while, then turned back and pulled Lestat to him once more. Although he was trying to deny it, however, he was becoming less and less able to control the chaos of his mind.
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Post by Lestat Lioncourt on Apr 9, 2009 17:57:32 GMT -5
((Wow! That man is perfect!))
Lestat knew of course what was plaguing the poor boy and was growing more and more impatient with him as he felt the minutes start to drag. Taking a deep breath he stopped Nicolas "You are troubled" he spoke, his voice shattering the silence of the room.
Although he wanted nothing more than to take the boy like he had dreamt, he knew it would not be to his liking, he would not have him fully and that is all that Lestat ever wanted. To take everything. He knew there would be something keeping Nicolas from giving himself to him, and if all else failed, he knew his power outweighed the other mans at an alarming rate.
But he didn't want to have to use that against his Nicolas... not unless he gave him no choice.
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Post by Nicolas de Lenfent on Apr 9, 2009 20:19:45 GMT -5
Nicolas stroked Lestat's cheek as his hand ran over his hair, almost possessively, except that it was more intimate, more two-sided than that. He'd like to take Lestat, of course, but to give to him. He wanted them to belong to each other as they had once in their far-off, unobtainable youth. "No, forget it," he whispered, eyes shutting, pressing against him again and pulling him back with him in the direction of the bed once more. He tried to focus on Lestat, Lestat's physical presence, Lestat's physique. It kept all sorts of other thoughts from entering his mind. It was, after all, very difficult to keep a thought as he kissed him more hotly, slipping his hands to his waist.
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Post by Lestat Lioncourt on Apr 9, 2009 20:59:38 GMT -5
Lestat found Nicolas's body loosen and sighed as the mood of the room once against lifted. Lestat slowly pressed his hands against the other vampires chest and pushed off his coat with a calmness quite uncharacteristic of him.
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Post by Nicolas de Lenfent on Apr 9, 2009 21:37:38 GMT -5
And it was this uncharacteristic calmness which forced the irritation up again, for if Nicolas was going to distract himself by getting lost in Lestat, he'd need Lestat to not remind him of chaos-inducing thoughts. Even as he kissed Lestat, his lips once again pulled back into a grimace.
Tenderness, in their foolish sentimental moments, and furious passion, he remembered doing that sort of thing as they undressed, but none of this. It was as bloodless as their vampiric bodies. He momentarily shoved at Lestat, as though trying to throw him off, although he did not follow through with the impulse enough to actually do that. His hands remained on Lestat's body and he began to kiss him once more, although there was something agitated in him now, despite the passion. His own hands moved with vampiric swiftness over the buttons of Lestat's coat, not wanting at all to take his time with removing it. They could take their time with more important things.
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Post by Lestat Lioncourt on Apr 9, 2009 21:46:43 GMT -5
((They are too funny))
Lestat squinted his eyes for a moment wishing to ask the man what he wanted from him, what he was looking for in him? But he didn't, instead, he pulled his own coat off breaking the buttons before Nicolas could finish with them. He did the same for Nicolas's shirt. He could stand it no longer, he could not stand the game.
He was beginning to think of Louis and he didn't want to, he didn't want to have to explain once again where he had gone. He couldn't tell Louis that he was not enough for him, that his whining and refusal to accept the dark gift, that the constant barrage of questions and complaints was doing nothing for Lestat.
He needed what he was getting from Nicolas right now, although he still knew, it wasn't everything.
He'd get it all soon, he knew.
He ran his long fingers in to Nicolas's hair and forced the mans face almost painfully against his own. He wasn't taking it any longer, if Nicolas pulled away one more time he'd show him the Lestat he hated.
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Post by Nicolas de Lenfent on Apr 9, 2009 21:56:41 GMT -5
Vampires registered pain differently. And very rarely. Nicolas had last felt it when Armand had pushed him off a rooftop, breaking his arm in the fall. It was nothing like the press of skin against his skull, of rough fingers in his hair, that tingling in his scalp - which, similar to the sensation of ghost's breath as Lune had tenderly separated his curls, was nonetheless much more hot and electric. And only another vampire could have done this to him, and certainly only Lestat could have made him want it as badly.
Nicolas forced Lestat's hips flush against his, moreso than they'd already been, and his lips parted in a trembling moan against Lestat's mouth (although forced implies that it was not already very much desired by them both, and parted implied he'd had no inclination to part them). Another sharp sensation, as he felt the sudden press of one of Lestat's kittenish vampiric eyeteeth against his lower lip, and then the slightest swoon at the taste of his own blood... His eyelashes fluttered. He pulled him closer instead, stepping backwards with as much elegance as one drunk on a former lover and intent on having him in that moment could possess, trusting Lestat and the forgiving environment as he let himself fall backwards onto the bed, attempting to take Lestat with him.
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Post by Lestat Lioncourt on Apr 9, 2009 22:16:28 GMT -5
Lestat followed Nicolas down, but instead of floating down as he did before he simply fell atop the man below, unknowing, uncaring, of what sensations he caused. Pulling Nicolas's legs up around his own he exhaled in delectation as the taste of Nicolas's blood began to trickle down his lips... so warm, so familiar. He swallowed with the apprehension of a boy the night he became a man.
He scraped his finger nails down Nicolas's neck and back in to his hair. With a force that would kill so many of the mortals that he had fed upon, he pulled the mans head back and raked his teeth along his jawline to his neck and his chest and stomach.
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Post by Nicolas de Lenfent on Apr 10, 2009 14:15:40 GMT -5
They had never been so rough in mortality. They could never have been if they'd tried. More proof of the changes that had occurred - which Nicolas did sorely detest, for they brought to mind the gulf between them, the bitterest hurts that time had only worsened, that Lestat had abandoned him as he had and the dark way they had parted - but pain registered more swiftly and sharply than pleasure did. And the sensation was therefore not unwelcome. Nicki arched on the bed, cuts closing on his body but the blood remaining on the faint pink lines that had been scratches on his newly-healed skin, eyes shutting again.
In a manner completely unlike anything he'd experienced before with Lestat, the pain and the hate only simmered, only made him want him more. Although he scratched Lestat's shoulder where he gripped him with the pettiness of cat, leaving red streaks from the blood but no other marks to suggest Lestat had been hurt, and his eyebrows furrowed, he nonetheless pushed upwards with his hips.
"Mm. Do it," he whispered, tasting blood, wanting more, although what he wanted more of, and what Lestat was meant to do, was as ambiguous in his own clouded mind as it was in the words he put to Lestat, both begging and demanding. "Ooh, yes," and he turned his head to the side as he shifted restlessly on the bed, throwing the sheets into tumult. His lips fell upon Lestat's wrist, and they parted without his considering it. He bit down, and moaned against the skin at the flood of blood that touched his tongue before the wound closed nearly at once.
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Post by Lestat Lioncourt on Apr 10, 2009 15:58:35 GMT -5
Lestat sharply breathed in as Nicolas bit in to his wrist, there was nothing that pleased him more, than the sensation of blood loss. No mortal could ever understand the pleasure that was derived from his simple act that he and his immortals so carelessly performed.
Breathing hard against Nicolas's stomach he kissed and nipped at the skin as his hands expertly un buttoned the mans trousers. If Lestat was to bite anywhere, it would be the thigh, it was what he called his... guilty pleasure. He pulled them off along with Nicolas's shoes and nibbled along the mans hips, leaving small dots of blood as he finally made it to his thigh. For a moment he hesitated, not out of fear or regret, but out of regard for Nicolas's beauty, no vampires skin was coarse, but Nicolas's skin seemed so much more, lustrous, smooth... Creamy.
But the moment was over and Lestat felt his teeth move swiftly in to the boys inner thigh.
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Post by Nicolas de Lenfent on Apr 12, 2009 13:24:57 GMT -5
Nicolas almost wanted to sit up, to force Lestat up, as he heightened the incongruity between their memories - which, after all, were something very nearly sacred to Nicolas - and this physical and inhuman passion between them, but Lestat very swiftly made that impossible, as pleasure was a very easy way to distract Nicolas from any brewing hostility. And this pleasure could never, after all, have been gotten in mortality...
Nicolas' hand pushed very roughly through Lestat's hair, the caresses becoming almost violent, his demands turning into little more than air over his lips.
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Post by Lestat Lioncourt on Apr 12, 2009 17:19:44 GMT -5
((I am so thinking of Lestat just leaving him there when they're done, because as much as he's enjoying this, he's still a selfish prick. Also you may fade whenever, heh.))
As Lestat pulled away he licked his lips as well as the outer part of the wound until it healed and with a impassioned sigh, he rubbed his fingers along the back side of Nicolas's thighs. Nuzzling his face along the mans pelvis.
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Post by Nicolas de Lenfent on Apr 14, 2009 13:18:44 GMT -5
((I go by VC canon as close as I can (yes, even though Anne is batshit insane), so I'm not sure that would actually make a difference to Nicolas. The blood exchange is more intense for them and it's been said they only really experience climactic moments during the kill when the heart stops, so sex or not, they'd never get anything near absolute pleasure with another vampire.))
The feeling of Lestat's tongue teasing the closing wound his teeth had made made him shiver. For sheer pleasure, he was almost entirely distracted from the fact that this was a new experience between the two of them - that it was a new experience for Nicolas in general. Lucidly, Nicolas would not have been wanting to have this experience; he'd have smashed the furniture of the bedroom first. Nothing like the tenderness or even the boyish play or the mortal passion of youth that had once existed, quite firmly grounded in their unnatural, abnormal, amoral natures. But there was nothing about this scene that made him lucid.
And although, in the process of his begging, his head falling back against the bed despite his trying to concentrate, this did occur to him (his fingernails cut Lestat's shoulder cruelly a moment), he decided, rather consciously, to for the moment let that go. He wanted to see where it led...
**FADE-OUT**
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