perfectdevil | the city: inbox

[ It's mostly the latter, but there's no small amount of the former. She hasn't forgotten what the bite felt like, even though she'd struggle to articulate the feeling. How could she not want that again, with some part of her? People must get addicted to it if they're not careful.

She watches him think, and then snorts softly. ]

It's not what I came here for, no.

[ Dropping her chin, she looks over to the liquor and grabs a bottle of bourbon -- a brand she's never heard of, like most of the stuff here, but the typeface on the label makes her suspect it's cheap -- and twists off the cap. ]

I'm saying, I don't think you can have it both ways, can you? A clean slate and a taste of everything. Fuck, I don't think we get a clean slate at all. Not in this place, that's clear enough.

[ She toasts him with the bottle and takes a swig straight from it, making eye contact the whole time. ]

Do you really not remember?

[ His eyes move to watch her take the bottle without a single twitch of movement from the rest of his body. He can't resist following the path of her swallow, the way her throat contracts and twitches. Of course he hasn't forgotten it, how could he? That would mean forgetting the bite, how her blood had tasted against his tongue, the way she'd clung to him even as awareness slipped from her consciousness. ]

No. I was lying. I thought you might prefer it that way. It obviously has a greater impact on you than I could ever understand, but I won't look away from it or force myself to forget it just because of that.

[ Not only has he not forgotten a single second of their time together, but his recent run in with Reno has made him painfully aware of the human attraction side to all this, too. The bite is still, unequivocally, better than any kind of human coupling… but the lack of build up, of tension, of even the slightest ghost of the human ritual, was that disappointing for her?

Hell, is he actually embarrassed that he might be an unsatisfying lover??? He physically cringes a bit without meaning to. ]

I would have tried, but perhaps you are right and an entirely blank slate is impossible. Then what would you suggest we do? Are we to stick to clandestine meetings between aisles of alcohol whenever you send a message to the wrong vampire?

[ Part of her would prefer that they could both pretend he didn't know. She still doesn't even know what he knows. Armand said it was like skimming a book; maybe all Lestat saw was two years missing from her life and the name of the place that took it. Maybe he saw the inside of the room they kept her in when the other inmates wouldn't leave her alone, or the depressing office where they tried to diagnose her. Maybe he just saw those grippy socks they give you. She liked the socks.

Maybe. Probably not. Probably he wouldn't say "Ravenscar" like he knew what it meant to her if all he saw was the socks.

So what's she to do with him, with his arrogant posture and his hurt eyes?

In spite of herself, Johanna laughs. ]

Christ, what a sentence. Never thought I'd know enough vampires to text the wrong one.

Hell if I know, Monsieur Lestat. I suppose if we're being honest ... [ She grimaces and takes another swig of the bourbon. Honesty. Gross. Why. ]

If all you wanted was to dine and dash, I wish you'd told me what I was getting into, all right? I thought I was getting a fuck with some biting, not having my mind read and getting dumped on the couch without so much as a by-your-leave.

[ Lestat shifts his weight from one foot to the other, the various chains hanging from his belt and his throat tinkling faintly as he does; it's such a strangely human gesture because vampires, as a rule, don't really fidget… which goes to show exactly how out of his comfort zone this entire discussion is.

Usually Lestat loves being told off, but this is less that and more being told he's been disappointing, which is a thousand times worse and not in any of the good ways. Where normally he takes criticism with fiery defensiveness, in the face of this he knows all too well that she's right. It's becoming a trend that all his criticisms end up too true for him to deny them as of late. ]

Tch. It's so much more difficult to do this face-to-face than it is writing or reading a book about it. [ He brings one of his hands up to his brow, pressing his fingers in over his temple. ] Alright, fine. If we're being honest.

[ Hands in his pockets now, trying to tame his fiddling at the very least, so he focuses on her instead. ]

I don't do this very often, this talking afterwards. I'm sure you can imagine why. I had no intention of ever seeing you again. I know it's a small community here, but I thought you wouldn't be interested in seeking out one who 'dined and dashed', as you put it, and that I wouldn't have to try very hard to ignore you. I thought I'd see something beautifully mundane and exhilaratingly typical in your head, the same as I do with most mortals, but I didn't. I thought I wouldn't care.

[ The rest goes unsaid: but I do. He looks at her for a moment, inhales, and then pushes it back out his nose as if steadying himself. When he speaks, his voice is oddly stable, as though he's choosing his words carefully. ]

Not only that, but I thought, until recently, that the bite was all I had in my disposal, as a vampire.

[ That look of discomfort at having to talk to this out is so familiar that she actually starts to offer him the bourbon before remembering he can't drink it. He rather looks like he could use it.

She certainly does, as he speaks. There's a squirmy feeling of both embarrassment and amused fellow feeling when he says he'd intended to just ignore her. It's that unspoken part, though, that's both loud enough and startling enough to derail her for a moment. ]

Well -- I thought we'd be able to ignore each other, too. Didn't plan for you being involved with someone I already knew, that's for sure. [ She huffs. ] 's like fucking around with punks all over again.

[ GOD, the sexual dramas of '00s London nightclubs. ]

What do you mean, "all you had in--" Wait, what do you mean?

[ is he talking about his dick lestat are you talking about your dick ]

[ Lestat squints a little at the mention of Louis, confusion evident on his face because he cannot comprehend even slightly why she keeps bringing him up, why she was so apparently concerned with them being a thing, why she asked him about his type. He, somehow, can't understand how all these things correlate, but luckily he doesn't have much time to push the issue, because then she continues to talk and asks for clarification and... God, this really would be so much easier if he were to just write it down. Then at least he could think about what to say instead of just standing here, staring at her with this stupid expression on his face. ]

I am undead. There are parts of my body that don't respond the same way they would in a human.

[ Yes, he's talking about his dick. ]

All of my closest connections are vampires, and we don't feel any sexual urges by instinct; drinking blood makes everything else pale in contrast. I didn't even think about your perspective. I thought, why would you care for anything less than the euphoria I can give to you with the bite?

[ He looks like he's twisting something over in his mind, and there's even the very slightest pinkish tint creeping into his face from his jaw and ears. He lifts a hand to tink tink his nail against the glass of a nearby frosted bottle. So much for not fidgeting. ]

I have recently been.. enlightened. To how misled I may have been.

... Do you think -- did you think you couldn't get me off because you don't get hard?

[ She's staring at him, incredulous, which undoubtedly helps with the awkwardness. ]

Mate, how do you think those of us without cocks do it?

[ Her vague annoyance and confusion that he hadn't even had the good manners to fingerbang her had been low priority, compared to the feeling of having her privacy invaded, but it is rapidly moving up to top priority, with roast this man mercilessly for the rest of time hot on its heels. ]

[ Lestat feels something much like petulant, childish embarrassment creep up his spine, to the point where he actually ducks into his shoulders a little. It isn't that he doesn't know about foreplay, he does, he was just much too young and much too inexperienced and probably brought up in the wrong set of circumstances to really appreciate its worth when he was alive, and after the fact he had a complete lack of instinct for it, and older vampires telling him that certain carnal desires were beneath them, so how the heeeeelll was he supposed to know.

Vampirism does not come with a manual. If it did, maybe he and Louis wouldn't have done so badly in those first sixty years. ]

I don't know??

[ Okay, maybe he's a little irritable, his face a little more pink. It's very embarrassing to be a 200-year-old sexy rock and roll vampire but admit you're quite in over your head when it comes to the song and dance of lovemaking. He's even less experienced when it comes to women. Oof, his ego. ]

It's not that I can't get hard, that has nothing to do with it! With the right circumstances, I can, I just didn't think there was a point! The bite is better, I didn't see any reason to wait, I didn't know how- [ He swallows, the bottle he'd been clicking his finger against is now straining under the intensity of one glass-like nail boring down onto it, so he retracts his hand. ] -how the build up could feel. I didn't think it would be such a big deal that I left the way I did, if you got something better than mortal sex out of it. But I don't even understand that comparison anymore.

[ Helping absolutely nothing, Johanna starts to giggle. ]

I'm sorry -- oh, fuckin' hell, sorry, but -- you're how old? Listen, you're not wrong about the bite, but--

[ Okay maybe he'll feel better if he throws something, maybe a bottle at the wall-- Nope. No, no, he's not going to actually turn into a child and start throwing shit all over the place. Even if he really, really, really wants to.

He withstands her laughing for a second or two longer than expected for his short temper, and then goes to storm past her, definitely sulking. ]

Ça suffit! I'm not standing here for you to get putrified on cheap booze and laugh at me!

Oh, come on, now, listen.

[ She reaches to catch his sleeve before she can think about whether it's a bad idea to touch a pissed-off vampire. ]

Least you can do to make it up to me is let me enjoy this, eh? Listen, you let me have this and I'll tell you about vibrators, if you want.

[ Her hand catches on his sleeve and he stops. If Lestat were genuinely furious he might have torn it from her grasp and stormed off anyway, but his bruised little ego is desperate for reconciliation, so here he is.

At her offer, though, he squints his eyes in confused suspicion before he can really think to react in any other way. ]

And these vibrators are something I'll want to know about?

Do you want to get people off? Repeatedly? Before the bite? Or during.

[ The thought of her last encounter with Reno drifts through Johanna's mind -- writhing in pleasant agony as he made her come again and again on the couch -- bringing with it a warm flush that she can't hide behind the defensive cloud in her mind. Damn, Reno is fun.

And a moment later comes the thought of what Armand said about tasting food through his mortal companions. She could show Lestat the kind of thing a halfway decent bullet can do. Let alone a wall-powered wand.

Maybe. Not just yet. Making a fuss about him looking without permission and then turning around and inviting him in for an actual peep show seems a little fast. ]

[ Lestat stands in mute silence as he thinks on his answer. It probably only looks slightly unnerving because he just, doesn't move for a bit. It's kind of like the moment before a toddler decides if it's about to start bawling over something totally inconsequential; very tense and everyone in the room hoping there are no tears.

Obtusely, yes, he does; just one little moment of consideration has opened up something that is fast snowballing into many other things that he doesn't have the appropriate facilities nor knowledge to actually explore. But at the same time there are a lot of vampire related hang-ups and uncertainties and general instinctive reluctance making him feel the urge to double back on his fervour. He's just... too hedonistic to actually double back. ]

Yes. [ He says, then exhales sharply through his nose, folding his arms as though he's preparing himself for her to laugh at him about this, too. ] Both. Maybe even after.

[ He's got the good sense to look guilty when he brings it up, at least. ]

Well, long as they're conscious. Or you've established they're into that, I suppose.

[ With most of the horny people she knows, she would take "somnophilia requires prior consent" as read, but we're starting from first principles, APPARENTLY. ]

What have you actually done with people before? I mean, have you gone down on anyone? Men? They're easier. God, I have so many questions, I don't know where to even start.

[ Lestat gives her a long, loooong look. He taps his foot on the ground a couple of times, then unfolds his arms and starts to move. For a split second it looks like he's just about to walk out on her, but then he calls over his shoulder: ]

No, no, I'm not doing this standing in the aisles of a liqor store. We'll find somewhere to go with a shred more dignity if I'm to lose all mine telling you this.

Sex isn't dignified! Lesson one!

[ She follows, amused. From her perspective her evening is improving. She has booze and the upper hand! ]

I can tell you about the first time I ate out a girl and got a black eye because she kneed me in the face, if it'll help.

I know that already, nothing about your human rutting is dignified-- [ That's probably most of the reason he's so embarrassed by it... That, and the fact that the whole rock star persona doesn't really match up with a guy who's slept with two people and can't recall many of the mechanics save what he's read in literature. ] -- but I'm still not-

[ Okay, he's laughing a little bit. He lets out an exasperated sigh; at himself, at her, who's to say. ]

Alright, je comprends. Lesson one, no dignity.

[ He pushes them out of the liquor store, and his eyes alight on a dimly lit little coffee spot across the road that looks blissfully uninhabited. Once they're seated inside, somewhere near the back, Lestat folds his legs to the side and rests his elbow on the arm of the chair. ]

My first encounter in sex was with a woman, it was one night, and I don't remember her name. She was considerably older than me and we did not have much time for lessons, or even for the act itself. We were both quite drunk.

[ He isn't fidgeting as much now, which is... an improvement? But he still looks like he's sitting on a bomb. ]

My second encounter was my last. My lover before I was turned. He was the son of a draper in the village my Father was responsible for. We became friends, we ran away to Paris together, we loved each other. But our encounters were fast and usually, again, we were both very drunk. In those times, unless you were in a brothel, any kind of coupling was for warmth rather than anything else.

Does that answer some questions?

[ Johanna steals a coffee mug from behind the counter when they come in, and when they're settled at a table she pours herself a few fingers of bourbon so she can stop swigging straight from the bottle.

There's something very surreal about sitting in an empty coffee shop, in an empty city, in the middle of the night, listening to a man talk about losing his virginity some hundreds of years ago. Not where she expected herself to be six months ago. Not even where she expected herself to be sixty minutes ago. ]

Sort of.

[ Including several she wouldn't have thought to ask. What his position was when he was mortal; where he lived; who he loved. ]

And after that it was always just feeding? But I can't be the first mortal you ever met up with under false pretenses. And you can't have been opening with kinks like bloodplay in the 1950s or what have you. Nobody ever wanted to go down on you? Or wanted you to go down on them?

[ He watches her pour and swig the drink like a man might watch the television. He's using it as a buffer to not get too fidgety, and it's working to a point. It's.. strangely nice to talk about Nicki without feeling some abysmal self-hatred over what happened to him. It's easier to think of the nicer times, the more pleasant things, with him. ]

It was always the feeding. When I was still a relatively new fledgling, I was told that such carnal desires are beneath me by a vampire much older than I am. Since we don't feel arousal by instinct and the only mirror for those feelings is bloodlust, I believed him. It's as simple as that.

[ In retrospect, once he learned about Marius' specific manner perhaps he should have considered that Marius was talking from atop his high-horse about his perspective rather than about vampire law, but oh well. ]

As for other mortals, I'm afraid that all of them have been my victims. I don't keep pets or human companions like some other vampires do. Every woman I brought to my bed certainly thought I intended to ravish them, but they died with that thought on their mind. There wasn't much time nor opportunity for anyone to - 'go down' - on anyone. If they showed interest, I showed them a firm hand. If they guided me there, I drained them from the vein in their thigh.

[ He watches her face now, carefully. This isn't a nice story, after all, but for a long while there he wasn't exactly a nice creature. And the jury's still out on whether he is now. ]

When I came back to the world in the 1980s, I saw and felt that the world had gone through a sexual awakening; people were much more vocal and varied with their desires. Girls threw themselves at me, often with their shirts torn open, lust was prevalent. But when you live for two hundred years assuming that you neither want nor need stimulation, that there is only the lust for blood... It's a habit that's hard to kick.

--Died?

[ That gives her a jolt. Not just the one he probably expects -- namely, the idea that she may have been playing much closer to the edge than she thought.

('Hey, I'm trusting you with something', 'Yeah, I don't care. Remember when you murdered someone?' The sarcasm in Wrench's voice, buzzing through his mask, still makes her hot with shame when she remembers it. Why else would you bring it up, man?)

Maybe she was wrong about the connection around here being brushes with immortality, or with gods. Maybe everyone here has killed someone -- even if, in her case, it was always through negligence and failure instead of getting her own hands dirty.

Hey, here's an idea, what if she drank more and didn't think about any of that and focused on playing sex therapist to this guy? ]

When'd you start leaving them alive?

[ Or not. Cool. ]

I didn't.

[ He takes that arm off the arm of the couch and folds it against his chest, looking at her with a very plain but calculated expression. This suddenly doesn't feel as light-hearted as it did before; suddenly he feels like he's giving her the risk of another cruel awakening, like when he'd watched the last sliver of empathy disappear from her face in the garden at the bistro, as she realises what kind of monster she's been talking to. ]

Or at least, I didn't stop with any great decision or epiphany. If I couldn't find an evildoer to slate my hunger, perhaps I'd take a little drink from someone I could enchant so that they never knew I'd been there at all, and leave them to a blissful nights sleep none the wiser.

And, as time moved on, it got harder and harder to easily get rid of the remains after each kill. A death on a street corner was something and nothing when I was a fledgling. Now, everyone has a name and a fingerprint and an autopsy report. Sometimes, leaving a victim alive is the safest option.

[ The way Louis kept insisting that he and his kind are dangers to everyone around them makes a lot more sense, now. Sure, she'd been a little bit weak for a couple days. But that had been expected; she had a lot of sex in ~~simultaneous timelines~~ a short amount of time, including with two vampires. She'd figured the restraint both Lestat and Armand showed with her was typical. ]

You're not tame lions, are you. [ It's quiet, not accusatory. She's just -- evaluating. ]

[ He exhales a slow breath, then recrosses his legs. ]

No, chérie. We are predators, from our brains to our marrow. It's who we are, what we are made for.

[ He looks around, at the empty bar. It would be so easy, for example, to take her blood right here and not a single person would reach out to help her. He could take her past the point of the end, suffer the consequences and do it again the next day, or the day after that.

But he won't. He doesn't want to. Why is that? ]

Yet, in a place like this, where we are truly living amongst your kind rather than simply pretending that it's possible, it feels much easier to believe that we are tame.

[ Johanna nods slowly, tapping her fingers on the mug of bourbon. ]

Easier for you or easier for us?

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cw for some discussion of institutionalization

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