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“Lyin' on your chest in my party dress
I’m a fuckin' mess, but I
Oh, thanks for the high life
Baby, it's the best, passed the test and yes
Now I'm here with you, and I
Would like to think that you would stick around”
Ex-journalist, new-biographer and reluctant-grupie Daniel Molloy gritted his teeth for the umpteenth time that night and wondered if it was possible for vampires to crack their own fangs. The scene he had to be faced with was pretty cliche if he had to be honest, almost comically cliche but no less annoying. World famous rock star Lestat de Lioncourt was in the middle of the club, dancing -more like grinding against- with several intoxicated humans and oh- he was also practically naked! Jesus the press was going to have a field day tomorrow. The almost non-existent crop top he had started his night with was non-existent and his low-waist leather pants were under the horrifying threat of getting even lower-waisted. How it was possible for a fabric to be leather and shiny and transparent at the same time, well that was a mystery to Daniel. Poor Christine, he thought, Lestat should pay her more for all the scandals she successfully dodged– Wait, what the fuck was he doing?
Upon seeing Lestat get ready to sink his teeth into a visibly high partygoer, Daniel abruptly jumped from his barstool and grabbed him by the back of his neck, like one does with a misbehaving kitten. Though the man trashing in his arms was the furthest thing from a kitten.
“Hey, Danny, what are you doing? Do you want me to starve?” Slurred blond rockstar, face srunched up like bratty child.
“You drained two pickpockets in the alley behind and I’ve been watching you take a sip from all of the druggies in this club. You ain’t starved, blondie.” He continued to steadily drag Lestat out of the dance floor.
Lestat’s messy, lipstick remnants covered mouth curled into a sweet smile, which Daniel refused to find kissable, and he said in a dreamy voice, “Aww so you’ve been watching me the whole night, Daniel?” He turned in the firm circle of Daniel’s arms, looping his arm around his neck. “You couldn’t keep your eyes off of me?” His voice got breathy, though Daniel knew it was fake as his smile -he had, unfortunately, witnessed him fake spectacular orgasms with some of the fans he fucked. “How manly of you, swooping in to take me from the arms of another man.”
Daniel rolled his eyes and tightened his hold around that sinfully tiny waist, Lestat was wiggling and trying to slip away from him, “How about you stop reciting cheap harlequin novels out loud and actually cooperate with me here, dude? I am trying to save your career.”
Lestat scoffed, “As if I need it. As if I care about record deals and awards and the public's opinion.”
“No,” said Daniel as he led Lestat out of the back door and into a car with black tinted windows. “But you care about creating art and being adored and your band-mates. Also I’m not gonna let you fuck up my debut as a director.”
“It’s cute that you care.” Lestat muttered as he burrowed his face into Daniel's shoulder and promptly passed out.
***
With a retching sound Lestat’s head once again fell into the toilet and he continued to spill all the tainted blood he consumed that night. He was sweating buckets, his skin felt itchy and his fangs were aching for some reason. He whimpered through another wave then suddenly felt something cool at the back of his neck. Cool, nimble fingers were gathering his hair in a precise ponytail on his nape -it even included the little wet strands that were sticking to his sweaty forehead. When they finished their job, they didn’t leave his skin though. A large palm stayed on his nape –not gripping but just holding, letting Lestat know that someone was there for him.
And oh, that act alone, the way those fingers tenderly swept hair from his face, it did something to Lestat. No one had touched him like this -caring, not influenced by lust- in a long time, since him. And suddenly he was glad for the blood covering his face, for they hid the fresh tears falling from his eyes. He retched one last time and his whole body convulsed with the force of it, when it passed he slumped back with exhaustion. Right into Daniel’s firm chest and open arms.
Daniel chuckled next to his head, his warm breath tickling Lestat’s ear, “I hope this will be a lesson for you, blondie. I know I’m not the best person to tell you to not do drugs,” he helped Lestat off of the bloody, slippery floor, “but at least don’t do them when you’re pinning over your ex- husband slash baby daddy slash boyfriend. It’s never a good idea to mix LSD and ketamine with a broken heart.”
Lestat huffed and tried to lean on Daniel less while walking to the basin, his attempts to look less pathetic then he was feeling didn’t fool anyone though.
“I am not pinning after him, Daniel.” He gritted between his clenched teeth, “Ours is a story of the past. Dead and gone. I don’t even think about him.”
Daniel eyed his blood stained torso, smudged makeup and the black circles under his dilated eyes, with raised eyebrows. “Uh-huh. I’m definitely convinced.”
Lestat’s protests were drowned by the sound of the shower. But he wasn’t lying though, at least not completely. Sure he was definitely thinking about Louis and missing him from time to time but he wasn’t pinning. He wasn’t expecting him to come back, not anymore. And to be honest, he himself wasn’t so sure anymore that he would run straight back to his arms if he ever did come back to him. So much had been broken between them, Lestat had been abandoned way too many times, they had tried to start over and over only to crash and burn again.
So no, he wasn’t pinning after Louis. This night wasn’t a product of that. Lestat was just sad. And alone. So terribly alone. And the drugs and booze and random fucks were just excellent distractions from that loneliness. Though when he focused on the way Daniel’s hands were feeling on his skin, the way he was gently helping him get out of the bloodied clothes, that loneliness was starting to look a little bit more bearable. This was confusing Lestat, making him feel like he was left out of some inside joke in his own brain and Lestat hated being left out.
When he stumbled out of the wet leather, Daniel steadied him with a hand on his bicep and one on his chest. He was being out-of-characterly touchy and kind to him tonight. Weird.
Lestat was ready to be left alone and just stand under the hot water and pretend like he was actually doing something to get the dried blood off of his skin but then Daniel began unzipping his jacket. What- and oh, here goes his shirt too. His fucked up, floaty head was too tired to register what all that exposed skin was making him feel. Nope. Do not even look at the gray happy trail, Lestat and don’t even think about how those fingers would feel inside– Daniel made a choked sound, shit his inebriated brain had failed to keep up the mental walls. How many filthy thoughts did Lestat broadcast?
Though before he could find the energy to panic, Daniel turned his gaze towards his clothes and took off his pants then got into the shower with only his boxers on. Which made Lestat whine like a little child, it wasn’t fair. “It’s not fair, I am naked and you are wearing your underwear.”
“Well then you shouldn’t have gone commando, Lestat.” Daniel answered calmly while lathering his blood soaked blond locks with strawberry shampoo. And again, no one had washed his hair since… It didn’t matter. He was not here. It was Daniel’s hands in his hair, it was Daniel’s sturdy frame holding him up when his body began to weaver and it was Daniel who whispered to him when he suddenly began weeping. “I am going to say something painfully cliche and you are allowed to punch me for it but,” he threw a little smirk at Lestat, “you are going to be alright, Lestat.” He pressed a palm on his chest, right above his frantic heart. “It will heal.”
“Stop being so kind to me.” Slurred Lestat, voice thick from tears and tongue slow from the drugs still coursing through his bloodstream.
“I will.” answered Daniel simply, though his voice and eyes were still so sweet. Gross. “Once you stop looking like a drenched-and-kicked-and-drenched-again puppy, I will go back to being the mean journalist and the demanding documentary director.”
Lestat had no idea what to say to that so he just tipped his head back, which slotted it right between where Daniel’s shoulder and neck met, and let the spray of shower wash his tears away. He didn’t know how long his eyes stayed closed or how Daniel managed to wash the rest of him but when he opened them again he found himself lying under soft sheets while wearing a fluffy bathrobe. His bedroom was dark save for the light coming from the ajar bathroom door and he could hear the running water. His head was still turning and his skin was still itchy. He shrugged off the bathrobe rather clumsily and kicked it to the floor. There, his skin felt so much better on the cool silk sheets.
After listening to the sound of Daniel washing his own hair, Lestat closed his eyes again and succumbed to a fitful sleep. Some could say he passed out with how fast he fell asleep.
He slept and woke and slept again, each time facing a different scene or sensation.
First time it was Daniel slipping under the sheets next to him, shushing him when he mumbled something in confusion. “Sleep, blondie. I just gotta make sure you don’t choke on your bloody-vomit in your sleep.”
The next time, he found himself being spooned by Daniel –his warm breath huffing into his ear and his arms looped around his waist tightly. Bed was comfortable, the sheets were soft and Lestat was incredibly warm in their little cocoon. Snug as a bug. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this serene. Or he could, but thinking about those times would only make him sad now. And these silk sheets were too nice to ruin with blood-tears. So he, though he would say he was still under the influence if somebody asked, shuffled back to Daniel’s chest and buried his head into the pillow and was out like a light in seconds.
Well, the third time was the charm, because when Lestat’s eyes fluttered open he realized he was half-lying on a very awake, very scruffy looking Daniel. His orange eyes were watching Lestat intently while also managing to look like they were a thousand miles away. Was he thinking about him? Was he still missing the other part of the complicated maker-fledgling puzzle? Maybe they were more similar than Daniel and Lestat both liked to admit.
Lestat lifted his head a little and looked up into those intense eyes, and oh how much he wished to still have those drugs in his blood. Because that way he could blame his actions onto them, he could find a logical reason for the way his heart was racing. Disheveled gray locks, blazing orange eyes, tantalizing scent of blood hiding in mouthwatering veins… Everything about this man was annoying, arousing and confusing Lestat. He felt his stomach clench with unreasonable flutters. How childish.
Then Lestat kissed him. Or maybe Daniel kissed Lestat. Maybe they met in the middle. Maybe in the darkness they were both equally desperate, equally starved. Maybe it was a long time coming -this attraction, this feeling, this tenderness between them. Maybe they should’ve felt guilty for doing this, for offending Armand’s and Louis’ memory. Maybe, for the first time in the repeatedly-told-and-published-story of their lives, Louis or Armand did not matter. Maybe they, Lestat and Daniel, could play the leading parts in this new story. Maybe Lestat was thinking too much.
Then he wasn’t thinking at all. Because Daniel was rolling on top of him under the sheets and covering Lestat’s completely bare form with his half-naked one. They kissed again and again. Lestat didn’t know how long but just when he was about to lose feeling in his lips, Daniel reluctantly separated from their kiss and asked in a low tone, as if afraid that any loud noise would make them come to their senses. “Are we really doing this?”
Lestat huffed, annoyed. He could feel Daniel’s insistent hardness digging into his hip and talking was the last thing he wanted to do. “Do we really need to talk?”
“Are you sober?” asked Daniel instead.
“You can read my mind Daniel, you know I am.” They stared at each other for a moment, like a musketeer assessing their opponent.
“I know. ‘Just wanted to give you an out, to ‘blame it on the alcohol’.” He finished his sentence with air quotes, real life air quotes, which Lestat found kind of adorable which he absolutely detested.
“Non, mon ami, I’ve been wanting to get into those i-am-on-the-brink-of-midlife-crisis saying pants for a while now and,” he added with a nonchalant shrug, “I think blaming it on my daddy issues, as the youngsters call it, would make more sense, non?”
He swiped a hand through Daniel’s gray hair which in return Daniel rolled his eyes, more fondly than he was going for but, well, he was lying on top of the man so did it really matter?
“Are you gonna kiss me again, Daniel?” Lestat whispered after a bit, he didn’t like the silence or the talking about their feelings part. Kissing was familiar. It was safe.
And then Daniel was kissing him again, and Lestat was responding with great enthusiasm. They kissed and licked and bit, as their mouths turned to red their hands were discovering the other’s body. Touching every dip and curve of Lestat’s young, lithe body almost made Daniel feel self-conscious in his own wrinkly skin, almost. But Lestat was moaning his name, squirming under him and his hands were searching to find a way to bring his body closer to his; yeah it was not possible to feel unwanted under that desperate gaze.
So he latched onto his neck, sucking a bruise, and got rid of his boxers with Lestat’s help. Now there was nothing separating their flushed, sweaty skin. It all happened in a passionate, hazy blur; Daniel getting the lube, gently fingering open Lestat, cooing when his whines started to sound like sobs, rearranging his legs around his waist and then pushing into him with slow yet unrelenting thrusts. Lestat was a moaning, emotional mess; wailing every time Daniel rammed into him, preening and blooming like a beautiful flower with every praise -with every ‘good boy’, ‘just like that baby’, ‘so good for me, Lestat’.
Daniel thanked his vampiric abilities as he held himself above Lestat and continued to fuck into him. He was surrounded by all kinds of sensations; sweat was dripping down his face, Lestat’s claws were marking his back, that tight, warm hole was squeezing him…
Salvation and ruination wrapped in one glorious night.
When he felt Lestat’s thighs tremble, saw him bare his throat and gaze into his eyes with blown out pupils Daniel knew he was seconds away from that little death. So he put his back into it, pumped into him roughly, bruising that sweet spot inside, and licked a long stripe on his pale neck -asking for permission. Lestat trembled with the implications and mumbled out in a wrecked voice, “Yes, yes, Daniel bite me, please pleas-” And Daniel bit down. Rich, warm blood filled his mouth and slid down his throat. It wasn’t sour, it did not taste like Vermouth and annihilation. Quite the opposite, it was the sweetest thing Daniel ever tasted. Well, this night was full of surprises, wasn’t it.
Lestat let out a whimper, his breath hitched and all his muscles locked around Daniel then he was coming. Daniel gripped Lestat’s hips tightly and gave a few more thrusts, groans and praises spilling out of his mouth now that it was unattached from Lestat’s neck. He slumped down on him, crushing his sweaty, wet form into the sheets. Lestat just hummed tiredly and swiped his hands on the marred skin of his back, he was exhausted in the most delicious way. And Daniel was a grounding weight on top of him, inside him. As Lestat closed his eyes and willed his breathing to calm down, Daniel pulled out, muttering a placating apology when he gasped at the emptiness. “Sorry, blondie, but you’re gonna thank me when I get all this mess off of you.”
After cleaning them up with a warm washcloth, Daniel fell back to the bed. They laid there, next to each other, in an unforeseeable silence. Lestat slowly turned his head toward him, piercing blue-violet eyes scanning his face, searching for what Daniel didn’t know. Suddenly he felt too exposed, too vulnerable. He moved to get up from the bed, to find something to wear but was stopped by a hand on his wrist.
“It would be nice if you at least bid goodbye before leaving.” Said Lestat, eyes unreadable, voice nonchalant. “A thank you would be appropriate too, not everyone is lucky enough to get into the bed of Vampire Lestat, you know.”
Daniel ignored half of his words, “I wasn’t leaving.” and caressed Lestat’s face with the care and wonder of a scientist. What an infuriating, magnificent, childish man he was. And maybe Daniel was an idiot for saying these words but kissing Lestat had been the closest thing to doing drugs. An unexpected thrill.
A forbidden apple.
Daniel saw the fragile shine of Lestat’s eyes. Saw the lost child, the lonely survivor, the forlorn lover. And with a sigh he re-settled into the bed and spoke in a terribly soft voice, “I can stay the whole night with you, if you want.”
“Would you do that?” The suspicion in his voice, the guarded hope in his irises were the things that truly broke Daniel’s resolve. Thus his answer to that profound question was comically simple.
“I would.”
And Lestat, like a bedouin in an oasis, lunged into his embrace. Daniel pulled the sheets over their entangled naked bodies then tightened his hold around Lestat. One arm wrapped around that tiny waist and the other hand petting his golden locks. Lestat pressed a kiss on his chest, suspiciously close to his heart, “Thank you.”
“Good night, Lestat.”
Daniel kissed his forehead, it was such a romantic act that he almost wanted to take it back but instead of pointing at it and turning it into a joke to spare them the embarrassment, Lestat just made a soft noise in his throat and burrowed into his chest.
“Good night, Daniel.”
The feeling of that slack, innocent looking face pressed into his skin and the tickling of golden strands touched something in Daniel’s heart.
Oh.
Oh no. Daniel was so fucked.