The 2nd Half Life of Nicki de Lenfent

he tried to be friends. it was a good effort at least, right? however, the more they hung out, the more max thought he couldn't handle this for long. he wanted something more than what they have but didn't know how to approach it at first. rather than keeping it to himself, he blurted out, “i don't know if we should stay friends.”

But now Max had his full attention.

"Your reason?"

They had met at a concert. It hadn't been one of Nicky's. It was a band they were both fans of. Max didn't have a ticket. Nicky had a spare after his now ex bailed on him.

He had offered Max the ticket and they had spent the night talking after before and then after the show when they went for a late dinner. They hit it off, and became fast friends. In fact, Nicky Vale had made several appearances in Max's youtube videos.

"We have been on the bus for a least five minutes now and I havent heard you tell me how much you loved the show," said Lestat as he moved towards the person sitting on the couch, licking his lips as he moved to sit beside them and handed them the cup, "just one little compliment and I can give you what you want."

A smirk appeared on the brat's face as he moved his long nail gently against the side of their neck, while the other hand moved the nails on the inner thigh, licking his lips as he watched them react to his touch. "you smell so good, lamb."

He raised an eyebrow.

Did Lestat even know what he wanted? Or did he just assume?

"I'm not interested Lestat."

Nicky Vale was on tour with Lestat. He had his own tour bus, but had agreed to come to Lestat's after the show. He should have refused.

Nicky Vale.

Nicky Vale was a figment. Nicolas De Lenfent was the reality. Reborn through the manipulations of The Talamasca in the early 90s, he was raised by the group as the son of two of it's highest human members. They doted on him. They loved him even though his soul remembered it's past. He had the best teachers for both academics and the arts.

But Nicky also had a mind like a vault.

Which meant that no vampire could get in without his consent.

"You're not my type."

There was a special pass for the family, friends, and significant others of the bands.

He turned his head, watching Stiles before suddenly sharp nails dug into the mattress as the other licked his hole. His glowing eyes grew wide as he moaned.

He was going to lose control. He knew he was. But he also knew he was no threat to Stiles. He could feel the thing growing inside of him presenting itself to Stiles just as much as he was.

After a few minutes of ripping, Nicky was whimpering.

"Stiles...please...I need...I need you...to fuck me. So badly."

"I'm not going anywhere until after you've cum inside of me."

He stood, and moved back to the bed. He needed to feel the alpha inside him.

On hands and knees, he presented himself.

Slowly, he took more and more of Stiles into his mouth, and then down his throat as he swallowed around him.

There had been a man back in Paris who lived in the same building where he and Lestat had lived. After Lestat's transformation, the man had tried to save Nicky. But Lestat had also been very aware of the man's romantic interest in him.

"You were my first kill."

He kissed gently at Stiles neck, where two moles marked where his fangs had descended in Stiles past life.

"I had never tasted blood sweeter after that. And when I took to the flames...I thought I saw you smiling as you held out your hand to me."

His thumb ran over the head of Stiles' cock before he dropped to his knees.

"I just recently accepted my queer side, Nicky and I've read plenty of smutty books about the main character getting with their stalker," Stiles added. "But why would you so prematurely say you'd marry me? Did you know you'd find your way back to Beacon Hills? I guess it is in the name," He chuckled again as he rambled.

He licked gently at Stiles thumbs as he brought their hips together.

"My mind was young but I had my other self's memories. I already knew I was gay."

Slowly, he pulled Stiles cock from his pants, and started stroking him.

His eyes roamed over the human.

"We're not...sure...if you really are human. Or if you made yourself more out of sheer will power. But you and I met before...a long time ago."

He remembers a sandbox. He remembers two boys, playing together. Stiles and Scott. He had played with them while his parents spoke with the Hale pack.

"I do believe I told you once that I would marry you. When we were...maybe five. Add in that I have personally been watching you since our teen years...well..."

He smirked.

His hand gently ran down Stiles' chest before he stepped back, and started removing his own clothes so that he was bare before the other man.

He can't stop his blush as he pulls the talismen out of the bag. It looks simple. It's made of gold and silver entwined in intricate patterns and stamped with strange symbols.

He's careful as he puts the chain it's attached to around Stiiles neck.

"There."

it rests perfectly against the other's chest.

Daniel rubbed his eyes and started jolting notes again, his growing frustration really evident. "I would prefer if we just focused on this interview that I have been tasked with completing as Kerrang will be out for my blood if I bring them in vague ramblings of ancient things when they expect a centrefold story of Nicky Vail"

Daniel listened.

Not politely — professionally. The way a man listens when he’s trying to decide whether the person across from him is a prophet, a lunatic, or something far more dangerous.Daniel’s pen hovered again, but this time he didn’t write. He watched Nicky’s face, the way memory softened it, the way dread sharpened it again when he spoke of ancient hungers and waking kings.

"Protection-" Daniel repeated, quietly. "That’s a hell of a word to use on a journalist you’ve known for—what—forty minutes?"He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, the recorder between them like a third presence.

"You’re talking about something big. Bigger than vampires, bigger than the Talamasca, bigger than whatever the hell you think Lestat is stirring up. And you’re telling me you were brought back for it?But you’re also telling me you called me."

He let that sit. Let Nicky feel the weight of it.

"Look, I’ve had my share of visions, nightmares, psychic bleed‑through, whatever label you want to slap on it. I’ve seen things I can’t explain. But I’m not a witch, I’m not a seer, and I’m not a soldier in some ancient blood war. So if you want me to take your warning seriously, you need to tell me why the hell I matter."

He flipped to a clean page in his notebook.

"And don’t give me the poetic answer. Give me the real one."

Daniel let the silence stretch, then softened it with something almost wry.

"You said your life started with the violin. Fine. But you’re not a street player now. You’re not a law student sneaking into theaters. You’re… what? A reincarnated Renaissance musician with a Spotify presence?"

A faint smirk tugged at his mouth.

"Tell me about the band."

He tapped his pen against the page.

"Who found you? Who plays with you? What’s the sound and don’t tell me it’s just a hobby"His gaze sharpened again, the smirk fading.

"Music was the beginning for you. So what is it now? A cover? A calling? A warning system? Or is it the only thing that still feels like yours after being dragged back into a world that shouldn’t have you?"

Daniel leaned back, recorder still running, voice low and steady.

Something softens in him. Softens towards Daniel. Because he had worried that Daniel would want that past. The days with Lestat. The nights with Armand.

Armand.

That connection is why he wants to protect Daniel.

He knew how dangerous Armand could be, and he didn't want another to fall the same way he had.

But...

Who was he now?

"Fuck...Fine. Will go with the hard shit."

He chuckled.

"Who am I now. And the band...I can't tell you who they are. I know them, of course. Each of them. Closely. Sometimes intimately. But they wear their masks for a reason."

Literal masks.

"I can tell you that my drummer comes from a powerful family. A family that never supported her interests. She separated herself from them...and I found her looking longingly at a new set of drums through a music store window. My father, in this life...who is my manager; he was the one who always supported my dream of bringing my music to the masses. He saw her too and we offered her a place within our ranks."

The woman had never played drums before. She just knew that she was drawn to them. It was two months into her stay with them that she had gotten the kit of her dreams and someone to teach her.

That had been ten years ago. In ten years, she had mastered her craft, able to do one handed tricks and play at speeds that were supernatural despite her very human lineage.

Of course he told Daniel all that.

"My guitarist is someone that I knew from childhood. He isn't human. Nor is he a vampire. The Talamasca was working to figure out just what he was. After surviving what should have killed him in the first world war, he had subjected himself to certain...experimentation...by the group."

This experimentation was sometimes medical, sometimes psychic, but always looking for an answer as to why everyone in his Company had died...150 men, dead; but for some reason 151 had survived. The others had been mangled beyond recognition. The man himself...if that was what he still was...had only one change. One of his brown eyes had become golden in color. As if made of metal. He could see things that he shouldn't be able to see.

There were times when the man would help Nicky's parents, both exhausted from work and a new baby. For some reason he was always up to taking up midnight feedings for Nicky. He became a secondary father figure. And then a brother when they came close to physical age.

Next the bassist.

"He's a werewolf. Which is why we never play on a full moon unless it's a daytime festival."

He had been born a werewolf, but he was the son of two who had once been human. The couple had been attacked on their wedding night and transformed forever. One year later, he was born.

"He's still mostly an enigma. He likes to keep to himself. But the three of them wear masks because they don't care about the fame. They're doing this for me. They're helping me live my dream."

His dream.

But who is he?

"But who am I? I am angry. I am broken. I'm still trying to pick up the pieces that Lestat and Armand left behind. But the pieces are so many flecks of ash scattered on the wind."

He leaned back.

Nicky bit his bottom lip in an attempt to not laugh at the other musician. Apparently, Flynn had no idea who he was, despite their billboards being right across from one another outside. Flynn's show had been tonight. Nicky's was tomorrow.

"Right. Sorry but I'm not a fan. I mean, I'm not saying I don't like your music. That would be rude of me as I've never really listened to it. I'm Nicky Vale of Second Half Life. My band plays here the day after tomorrow so I'm scouting out the place. While this was the last stop on your tour, it's the first on mine."

He held out a hand now.