Update: Gimme Danger 'Cos I've Slept So Long (Part Three)
Title: Gimme Danger ‘Cos I’ve Slept So Long
Author: Curt Kenobi
Pairing: Curt Wild/Lestat de Lioncourt
Rating: PG-13/T...working up to M
Summary: In the early/mid ‘90s, Curt Wild is living a rather desolate existence. Until he spots the mysterious lead singer of a suddenly nonexistent band outside an infamous club. Little does he know that he intrigues that lead singer as well….
Disclaimer: Not mine (but damn, aren't they hot?)
Warnings: Vampyrism, Angst
A/N: Okay, so this part's a cliffie and lead-in for Part Four, and it's even shorter than Part Two. But hey, it's a new part!!!
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Gimme Danger 'Cos I've Slept So Long, Part One
Gimme Danger ‘Cos I’ve Slept So Long, Part Two
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-----i-f---y-o-u---w-i-l-l---b-e---m-y---l-o-v-e-r-----
Lestat’s arms were surprisingly strong and secure around Curt, making him feel safe. While they were undoubtedly moving quite fast, it seemed so…languid. Relaxing. Curt couldn’t remember when he last felt so at ease. So safe. So…right. Nights in Arthur’s arms had reminded him of feeling like he belonged. Arthur had loved him, he really had. Curt had been afraid of it. As he laid his head upon Lestat’s solid chest, he was surprised to realise that: he was afraid of anytime he’d been loved. He’d loved intensely - plunged into it, but he’d been afraid, and for all his immersion, he had still withheld a part of himself. When it came to strange faces that he only knew for that night - that was nothing. When it came to heroin - he didn’t care. If he knew there was inherent danger, or no chance of it lasting, he was cool with it. There wasn’t a chance to be hurt emotionally - and that was what he feared most.
What was it with Lestat? Right now, he took it as something that wouldn’t last. That was why he was rolling with it.
Suddenly Curt felt his stomach gently escalate up his throat as they descended. With a soft thump, Lestat stood on the edge of the rooftop of the Ruby Shard, Curt dangling over the edge, still held securely in the circle of his arms. He remembered letting Jesse fall after letting her experience the more…appealing side of being a vampire. One of the aspects that made it easy to romanticise the notion. He wouldn’t do that with Curt, though - wouldn’t drop him.
Taking his pet’s hand, putting them in a pose as if for a dance - which they would, in a way - he lifted Curt a bit and twirled once about on the parapet and then stepped down. Curt disengaged himself in a hurry from Lestat to run to stand in the middle of the roof, chest heaving. Lestat laughed. “Come now, not afraid of heights are we?”
“I am when you have us fuckin’ twirly-fuckin’-whirly on the fuckin’ edge of a four-fuckin-storey tall building!” When I’m not in control of if I fall or not.
“I’m quite sorry, then.” But the vampire’s eyes were sparkling.
“Bastard,” Curt muttered - grudgingly good-natured - under his breath.
Lestat took his pet’s chilled hand, taking in the flush of his cheeks and currently bright silver-blue eyes in the moonlight, and led him to a purple glass elevator with beautiful black wrought-iron tracery that was at the far side of the rooftop. He flashed a mysterious smile - one that made Curt want to all but ravish that sensual mouth and tempting lips, trace those fangs with his tongue - find out if they were actually as keen as they seemed - as he pulled Curt into the elevator with him.
“Davrick has…private…rooms up on the top floor. Unless you’re more into being bound down and…taught.”
Curt laughed dryly. “Nah,” he said, leaning forward to steal a kiss. As he finally pulled away, he was all but beaming. “Never been too good at following rules, anyway.”
“I’ve never been one to teach,” Lestat informed, voice quiet, a odd note to it. But it was clear who would have been in charge, had they taken that route, physical age notwithstanding.
The lift descended quietly, stopping on the darkened main corridor of the fourth floor. At regular - but long - intervals, there were candles within wall sconces, giving the hall a soft, golden orange glow, though it faded out into a strip of darkness before the outer edges of the next candle’s glow illuminated the hall again.
Lestat took Curt’s hand within his, leading him down the hall - two rooms…four…six - there. Lestat stopped. Room 7. That would work well enough. Besides, the number had significance to him. With a seductive smile, the vampire pushed open the door, pulling Curt inside.
Curt’s heart was going to beat out of his chest. He was fucking sure of it. His heart hadn’t raced like this since he came down. In a way, that was almost preferable. He was nervous as all hell. And Lestat knew it.
What Curt Wild didn’t realise was that Lestat de Lioncourt was as uncertain as he was. He didn’t do this. He seduced, yes - but hell, that was a personality trait, not an effort, and he seduced to gain either food or information (and often then food). He did not just seduce to…to end up with that person. Dora. She was close. Jesse when she was mortal had been close. But…Lestat had never done anything like this; Dora and Jesse had also been functional.
He wanted to do this, though. To assure himself he wasn’t a complete waste of a body. To assure that he could still…well, feel. He had never truly let go of those human emotions - that was his flaw. But when one let them go, what did they become, really?
Curt located a bottle of wine in a bucket of ice upon a small stand in the corner. Not his speed, but it was alcohol. It would do. He rummaged in the drawer and came up with the corkscrew and set to his task. He could feel Lestat’s keen, gleaming, wildly changeable vampire eyes upon him, but he couldn’t bring himself to turn about. Not yet.
With a “pop”, the cork was released, and Curt swiftly took the bottle to his lips. Merlot. Blackberry fuckin’ merlot. Where had he had this before? The taste danced across his tongue, cool, delicious. He knew it - from where? He didn’t drink wine.
Party. Celebration - for Arthur. A…a big story or something. Or had it been an office party that Arthur had dragged him to? Or just a night together, curled up in each other’s arms? He wasn’t sure…only that it centred about Arthur Stuart, whatever his memory of blackberry merlot might be. Bittersweet, that entire affair. Frowning, Curt took another long sip from the bottle, enjoying the way the flavour danced across his tongue, trying to push away the lingering image of his former love, hoping that as he swallowed, the intense sweetness as well as the strong memory of Arthur would wash away. It did fade, thankfully. Even more so when Lestat put a hand upon his shoulder. He stiffened at the tender touch out of reflex, and anxiety, but the vampire put him at ease, surprisingly. That graceful body moved in closer behind him, and a soft kiss from cool, dry lips was placed upon the place where his neck and shoulder met, right at the edge of his fishnet cover-up. He gasped softly as he felt the fangs gently rake his skin. Lestat pulled his mouth away.
“Sh.” That voice sent tingles down Curt’s spine. The vampire’s gracious voice was like warm honey against the side of his neck. “It will be good.” He turned Curt’s face to him, cold hand lightly holding the former glam rocker’s chin. He looked deeply into the cobalt and silver depths of Curt’s eyes, seeing that ruined soul he so longed to know. He kissed the warm lips softly, tasting the sweetness of the merlot upon Curt’s lips.
“I won’t hurt you.”
(The lyric in the page break is from:
"Gimme Danger" -- Ewan McGregor and the Wylde Ratttz.)
--> To: Part Four (A)
Author: Curt Kenobi
Pairing: Curt Wild/Lestat de Lioncourt
Rating: PG-13/T...working up to M
Summary: In the early/mid ‘90s, Curt Wild is living a rather desolate existence. Until he spots the mysterious lead singer of a suddenly nonexistent band outside an infamous club. Little does he know that he intrigues that lead singer as well….
Disclaimer: Not mine (but damn, aren't they hot?)
Warnings: Vampyrism, Angst
A/N: Okay, so this part's a cliffie and lead-in for Part Four, and it's even shorter than Part Two. But hey, it's a new part!!!
--------------------
Gimme Danger 'Cos I've Slept So Long, Part One
Gimme Danger ‘Cos I’ve Slept So Long, Part Two
--------------------
-----i-f---y-o-u---w-i-l-l---b-e---m-y---l-o-v-e-r-----
Lestat’s arms were surprisingly strong and secure around Curt, making him feel safe. While they were undoubtedly moving quite fast, it seemed so…languid. Relaxing. Curt couldn’t remember when he last felt so at ease. So safe. So…right. Nights in Arthur’s arms had reminded him of feeling like he belonged. Arthur had loved him, he really had. Curt had been afraid of it. As he laid his head upon Lestat’s solid chest, he was surprised to realise that: he was afraid of anytime he’d been loved. He’d loved intensely - plunged into it, but he’d been afraid, and for all his immersion, he had still withheld a part of himself. When it came to strange faces that he only knew for that night - that was nothing. When it came to heroin - he didn’t care. If he knew there was inherent danger, or no chance of it lasting, he was cool with it. There wasn’t a chance to be hurt emotionally - and that was what he feared most.
What was it with Lestat? Right now, he took it as something that wouldn’t last. That was why he was rolling with it.
Suddenly Curt felt his stomach gently escalate up his throat as they descended. With a soft thump, Lestat stood on the edge of the rooftop of the Ruby Shard, Curt dangling over the edge, still held securely in the circle of his arms. He remembered letting Jesse fall after letting her experience the more…appealing side of being a vampire. One of the aspects that made it easy to romanticise the notion. He wouldn’t do that with Curt, though - wouldn’t drop him.
Taking his pet’s hand, putting them in a pose as if for a dance - which they would, in a way - he lifted Curt a bit and twirled once about on the parapet and then stepped down. Curt disengaged himself in a hurry from Lestat to run to stand in the middle of the roof, chest heaving. Lestat laughed. “Come now, not afraid of heights are we?”
“I am when you have us fuckin’ twirly-fuckin’-whirly on the fuckin’ edge of a four-fuckin-storey tall building!” When I’m not in control of if I fall or not.
“I’m quite sorry, then.” But the vampire’s eyes were sparkling.
“Bastard,” Curt muttered - grudgingly good-natured - under his breath.
Lestat took his pet’s chilled hand, taking in the flush of his cheeks and currently bright silver-blue eyes in the moonlight, and led him to a purple glass elevator with beautiful black wrought-iron tracery that was at the far side of the rooftop. He flashed a mysterious smile - one that made Curt want to all but ravish that sensual mouth and tempting lips, trace those fangs with his tongue - find out if they were actually as keen as they seemed - as he pulled Curt into the elevator with him.
“Davrick has…private…rooms up on the top floor. Unless you’re more into being bound down and…taught.”
Curt laughed dryly. “Nah,” he said, leaning forward to steal a kiss. As he finally pulled away, he was all but beaming. “Never been too good at following rules, anyway.”
“I’ve never been one to teach,” Lestat informed, voice quiet, a odd note to it. But it was clear who would have been in charge, had they taken that route, physical age notwithstanding.
The lift descended quietly, stopping on the darkened main corridor of the fourth floor. At regular - but long - intervals, there were candles within wall sconces, giving the hall a soft, golden orange glow, though it faded out into a strip of darkness before the outer edges of the next candle’s glow illuminated the hall again.
Lestat took Curt’s hand within his, leading him down the hall - two rooms…four…six - there. Lestat stopped. Room 7. That would work well enough. Besides, the number had significance to him. With a seductive smile, the vampire pushed open the door, pulling Curt inside.
Curt’s heart was going to beat out of his chest. He was fucking sure of it. His heart hadn’t raced like this since he came down. In a way, that was almost preferable. He was nervous as all hell. And Lestat knew it.
What Curt Wild didn’t realise was that Lestat de Lioncourt was as uncertain as he was. He didn’t do this. He seduced, yes - but hell, that was a personality trait, not an effort, and he seduced to gain either food or information (and often then food). He did not just seduce to…to end up with that person. Dora. She was close. Jesse when she was mortal had been close. But…Lestat had never done anything like this; Dora and Jesse had also been functional.
He wanted to do this, though. To assure himself he wasn’t a complete waste of a body. To assure that he could still…well, feel. He had never truly let go of those human emotions - that was his flaw. But when one let them go, what did they become, really?
Curt located a bottle of wine in a bucket of ice upon a small stand in the corner. Not his speed, but it was alcohol. It would do. He rummaged in the drawer and came up with the corkscrew and set to his task. He could feel Lestat’s keen, gleaming, wildly changeable vampire eyes upon him, but he couldn’t bring himself to turn about. Not yet.
With a “pop”, the cork was released, and Curt swiftly took the bottle to his lips. Merlot. Blackberry fuckin’ merlot. Where had he had this before? The taste danced across his tongue, cool, delicious. He knew it - from where? He didn’t drink wine.
Party. Celebration - for Arthur. A…a big story or something. Or had it been an office party that Arthur had dragged him to? Or just a night together, curled up in each other’s arms? He wasn’t sure…only that it centred about Arthur Stuart, whatever his memory of blackberry merlot might be. Bittersweet, that entire affair. Frowning, Curt took another long sip from the bottle, enjoying the way the flavour danced across his tongue, trying to push away the lingering image of his former love, hoping that as he swallowed, the intense sweetness as well as the strong memory of Arthur would wash away. It did fade, thankfully. Even more so when Lestat put a hand upon his shoulder. He stiffened at the tender touch out of reflex, and anxiety, but the vampire put him at ease, surprisingly. That graceful body moved in closer behind him, and a soft kiss from cool, dry lips was placed upon the place where his neck and shoulder met, right at the edge of his fishnet cover-up. He gasped softly as he felt the fangs gently rake his skin. Lestat pulled his mouth away.
“Sh.” That voice sent tingles down Curt’s spine. The vampire’s gracious voice was like warm honey against the side of his neck. “It will be good.” He turned Curt’s face to him, cold hand lightly holding the former glam rocker’s chin. He looked deeply into the cobalt and silver depths of Curt’s eyes, seeing that ruined soul he so longed to know. He kissed the warm lips softly, tasting the sweetness of the merlot upon Curt’s lips.
“I won’t hurt you.”
(The lyric in the page break is from:
"Gimme Danger" -- Ewan McGregor and the Wylde Ratttz.)
--> To: Part Four (A)