Chapter Text
The man across the dancefloor is looking at him, and had been for a while. At first Lestat wondered if he was just imagining things, but no, he was definitely looking. He has shoulder length jet black curls, a small mouth and a pair of intense dark eyes lined with- he squints, eyeliner maybe. He’s undeniably attractive, wearing a loose button up only buttoned halfway tucked into tight high waisted trousers. Nicki interrupts his staring with a hand to his chest, Lestat had stopped dancing and Nicki was asking if he was okay over the blaring music. “Oui, t'inquiète pas, amour” he reassures him and when the worry from Nicki’s face has disappeared enough for his taste he glances back to where the mysterious man was standing before. Gone. Strange.
But not for long, when they are dancing again he sees a glimpse of that dark hair again, smiling and swaying with a boy a head shorter than him. Dark and curly haired as well, but pale instead of a warmer brown. He has his arms clumsily around the back of the man and the man is resting his on his shoulders.
Lestat tries his best to focus on the beat and dancing with Nicki but keeps his eyes on the pair, Nicki hasn’t noticed yet but the man has. His deep eyes are almost boring into his soul, he smirks and grabs the boy’s waist. The boy yelps but the man doesn’t spare him a glance, his eyes are fixed on Lestat and Lestat cannot look away . He does the same to Nicki who melts into the touch and goes to rest his head on Lestat’s shoulder. The man’s smirk disappears from his face but his stare stays as his hands travel up the boy’s back, splaying his long thin fingers out there, travelling back down and grabbing his butt, which makes the boy yelp again. This time the man looks down at him and he giggles, tiny smile lines frame his perfect face, making him look even more beautiful than ever.
Lestat takes it in for a moment before his annoying boyfriend starts kissing his cheek and shouting in his ear that he’d like to go home.
“You don’t need to scream, chéri, the music is not that loud,” he cries petulantly.
“It’s late, let’s go, Lestat,” Nicki tries again, a little quieter this time.
“You go, I’ll-” He looks at the now empty space on the dancefloor again. “I’ll stay a little longer, call me, yeah?” He looks back at Nicki and presses a chaste kiss to his lips.
Nicki presses his lips into a line, and Lestat knows how much he hates going home alone but he can’t just leave now, the night had just started and even though it was, he checks his phone, three fifty, well okay, it was late, but so what?
Nicki sighs, rolls his eyes, “Fine, but don’t stay too long, okay?”
Lestat nods a little too hard and kisses him for real now, tucking a brown curl behind his ear when they part, “Je t’aime.”
Nicky blushes, “Mhm, you too,” he mumbles shyly.
Turned away from the bar, Lestat watches him leave the club, smiling and waving until the door closes behind him.
"What brings you here, boy?" A smooth but fairly feminine voice calls behind him.
Lestat jumps and turns around to see the dark haired man from earlier.
Getting a closer look, his hair has some sort of product in it, making the curls shine ethereally with the club’s changing lights. He’s gorgeous, and he’s what, Lestat searches his face for wrinkles, looks up for grey hairs and down the length of his body, around twenty maybe? Five years older, that could work, yeah that could definitely work.
"My name's-" "Lestat," the man finishes and Lestat is dumbfounded.
"How did you know that," he replies quickly, confused and a little concerned.
"I know a lot of things." the man smiles, Lestat doesn’t return it, he might be attractive but spooky is spooky.
"Oh chérie, I heard your little boyfriend say your name, lighten up! Do you need a drink?"
"Oh, hah." Lestat feels himself flush. "Y-yeah, a-uhm.." he turns his head to read the drinks list. He can’t tell this man he’s never ordered a drink before, much less drunk anything except the occasional beer with his parents.
"How about an.." The man speaks up, saving him from a particularly humiliating confession that would no doubt make the older man lose any possible interest in him.
"How about a vodka soda, hm?" he offers. Lestat nods and smiles shyly as he orders one for him.
"What's your name then?" he musters up the courage to ask.
"Some people in here," the man looks around, nods at a few people, more than a few of them are wearing various bdsm gear, not overtly sexual but it’s noticable if you look, leather pants, a chest harness over a satin shirt, a hankerchief peeking out the back pocket of some shorts, one, two, three people in collars. "Call me maître," there's a few seconds and then Lestat's eyes go wide as he suddenly understands.
"But you, sweet thing, you can call me Armand," Armand winks.
Lestat stills and coughs wildly, but then Armand laughs so his eyes crinkle again and he calms down a little.
“I like your eyeliner, Armand,” He tries the name out on his tongue, it feels nice, feels right , whatever that means.
“It’s kohl actually, but thank you, little prince,” Armand replies “I like your little ponytail, it’s very charming.” He’s no doubt just flirting but Lestat cannot help but feel affected by it, he’s insanely attractive and the way his tongue peeks out to wet his lips makes Lestat’s mind float.
He sips his vodka soda slowly and tries to look as attractive as possible, batting his eyelashes and swirling the straw around. It must work because Armand is laughing again, beaming and sounding like some sort of angel.
“So,” Armand says something that he cannot hear over the music, or maybe rather over his own thoughts. Lestat gets in closer to do so and accidentally bumps into the man.
“Ah! Pardon,” he says, but his mind blanks quickly when Armand’s hands still on his waist, not hard, not grabbing , no, but the touch is enough to make him squirm inside. He gulps down the rest of his drink to put it back on the bar to free his own hands, he doesn’t quite know where to put them but Armand smiles and shrugs so he lets them find a place on his back. Armand is warm , he’s warm and the shirt he’s wearing is silky and smooth under his palms. He lets Armand pull him firmly back to the dancefloor where they sway to the music, it’s calmer than before and it feels like there’s no one on the dancefloor but them. He feels himself melt into him and hug his arms tighter around him and he feels Armands roaming hands settle in his back pockets. This is nice, he thinks to himself, feeling the satin shirt with his cheek now as well, moving his face so he can nuzzle the soft skin at his neck as well. He could fall asleep like this he thinks, dream about strong men with long delicate fingers and piercing eyes, with angelic curls and laughter, who don’t make him feel bad about-
Much to Lestat’s chagrin, Armand removes his hands from his butt and fishes his phone out of his pocket with it, pressing it to his chest creating distance between them. Lestat is confused and more than a little irritated to be pulled out of the intimate embrace and daydreaming but grabs it regardless.
It's Nicki, apparently he's already sent 25 messages and there's three missed calls he didn't notice.
"Merde!" Lestat exclaims. "Sorry it's my-" "Your little boyfriend?"
"Yeah," he feels his heart beat in his throat and the guilt drop low in his stomach.
"I-I'm really sorry," he says, not really understanding why he was apologising to him, he wasn’t the one he was cheating on.
"I have to go," he finishes, Armand nods. "Go, now, I'll see you again, chaton" he winks.
Lestat smiles, his cheeks feel warm again and he puts his phone to his ear and runs to the door and outside, trying to get away from Armand before apologising over the phone as well, half listening to Nicki’s complaints and half thinking about the empty hands sized feeling on his waist.