SOUTHERN ♚ DEVIL

“Okay.”

That was the shakiest, most unconvincing “Okay” Howard had ever given to Clark, ever. And he knew it; he wasn’t sure if anything was right without Victory peering over his shoulder telling him what he needed to say or do. He made a face slightly at the thought that maybe he should bring up the question on whether activities like intimacy or a ten-hour marathon of old Hollywood cinema counted as a positive reinforcement, or if it was going to become an unhealthy escapism.

“I suppose the longer I procrastinate, the harder it’s going to scrub off the duvet.” A slow push. “And after that I get to do… stuff… with my other half. Watch films and cuddle just like this,” he buried his face against Clark gently, “take my mind off it once I’ve dealt with it. I can do it. I should do it. I can’t let them win, right? I can’t let them keep doing this to me.”

Another desperate embrace enveloped Clark’s body, hands hanging onto his shoulder for mercy. Howard drew in a sharp breath, trying his best not to crumble again.

“I need. To kill them. Clark.” he whispered, a low confession. “Maybe not all of them. But I have to do it with my own hands at one point. Just like this. It’s becoming like a nightmare, like they weren’t real. My life with you here felt so good I’m beginning to forget what they’d done to me. It’s good that they woke me up this way. I need. To kill them.”

“For now,” he pulled away, swiftly digging the heels of his palms into the deep sockets of his eyes. “I have to start small, like you said. Grow into the, hah,” he chuckled wetly, “asshole that you are. Be a bit more audacious and cunning. Long way to go yet, but I have to pick up the pace. I can't keep going on like this, I really can't.”

❝ Okay. ❞ He echoed the simple word as if his sureness would somehow help balance out just how unconvincing Howard's rendition had been. The cambion sat up with him, mirrored his movements. When Howard would get up, Clark would get up. Howard was insistent he was deal with this and so he was more than ready to take the following role rather than the leading charge.

A hand came to pet gently through Howard's hair. His fingers were delicate but consistent in their movements, patient and unrushed.

❝ If the duvet doesn't seem salvageable, we can toss it. I'm not saying that to... save you from this or keep you from handling it. I'm just saying that you're allowed to be realistic about it. Make the attempt because you need to but don't feel like you have to go overboard with it. ❞

The hands in Howard's hair transitioned into holding him in turn when the man embraced him once more. He let Howard utter his quiet confessions without a reply. He had his own thoughts on the matter, had his own input, but it wasn't his place to insert that right now.

Then he was pulling away and the transitional gesture meant it was time to move on. ❝ I wasn't going to, darling. Don't worry. ❞ He stood first and offered a hand to hoist his spouse up in turn. Then, he bent to grab up his tea. Coffee after, he decided.

❝ Why don't you just say whatever comes to mind. You did that before and it helped ease you out of your spiral, didn't it? Just ramble. I'll guide the conversation or take charge to keep things going if need be. ❞

R☆ckstar☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆: when the footsteps draw nearer the bedroom, Lestat somewhat sits up. A moment ago, he was convinced that maybe the door will shut and Clark will make up an excuse to leave. He always has meetings, some endeavors. It does not matter as long as the manager of the Vampire Lestat can solve a bunch of fires. It's a hobby, it's a job. Enters Clark, entirely undressed before joining Lestat in his bed, as promised. The vampire watches his lover draw nearer. The heat of his body pools over the rockstar like relieving balm. He breathes in the scent that wafts over. The scent of home.

He blinks when Clark inquires about his expression. Is it obvious that he is surprised that the cambion is here? What an odd mood to be in. Lestat looks over Clark's shoulder, shrugging as he leans in closer to press his lips atop of the warm curve. The cambion's skin is soft like a row of pillows behind them. The vampire draws nearer, eager to wrap his arms around the man even before they are ready to lay down for the shared endeavor. "I just thought," Lestat mutters, looking up. "Sometimes, I think you will leave." His confession is quiet as he searches Clark's eyes. "I wonder if I have to perform better. Love you a little bit harder, look more attractive. Maybe, if I am…funnier. Or if I have to get better at sex, or give you a raise. I just have this," he pauses, looking down at his hands.

"Compulsion to give you more reasons to stay. So when I don't change anything it's just…It just feels like I am losing you." Lestat bites his lower lip, digging his teeth as much as he can in order to avoid the sting of shame. He doesn't mean to get like this before a nap. But his mind has been fuzzy and he has been clinging to Clark a lot more as of late.

This was a delicate situation and it was increasingly clear that there was more to navigate here than a mere nap. Clark remained silent and then nodded once and eased back onto the pillows, tugged at Lestat afterwards to pull him down as well as if they were to be co-conspirators in some secret conversation.

❝ I can't undo whatever marks people have left on you, Lestat. I know that it's not that simple, trust me. But I-— ❞ He exhaled a sigh and twisted there on the bed until he was fulling facing the vampire.

❝ I wouldn't leave you like that. Suddenly. And I've told you, alright? Even if we grow distant in the way of lovers or partners, I wouldn't abandon you. I'm afraid you're quite stuck with me unless you choose to turn and dip. ❞

He shifted more onto his back now and invited Lestat closer. ❝ I don't... like when people perform for me. My life, my biological existence, is just that. It's performing. It's so tiring, Lestat. I want real, I want genuine. I want the good and the bad as long as it's real. ❞

More shifting to get the both of them comfortable. He allowed an arm to wrap around the vampire's back and left the other free to either rest above his own head when idle or to roam Lestat when not. He tucked a bit of hair away behind an ear. Clark's near flat tone remained but it was softer, lower.

❝ You don't need to perform for me and I'm... well, I'm sorry you've been made to feel that way by others. And by the by? You are already rocking above average scores in all of those departments anyway. ❞

He dropped his hand to smooth along a cool cheek, let his thumb rest there to stroke idly. ❝ I know the whole point of any turned creature is a loss of self or humanity or whatever-— but you're so, so very human to me, Lestat, and you have no idea how much that draws me in. ❞

That was a fair ask, and if Howard were to be honest with himself, a much preferred alternative than being on his own as he picked up after the pieces. Vic had discouraged Clark's active involvement where it was possible for Howard to expose himself safely to his triggers, though heavily encouraged Clark's presence during, if only to keep Howard safe.

When he lifted his face, his eyes were glassy, and Howard nodded slowly -- careful not to encourage the dam to break yet again.

"That'd be nice. Thank you," he muttered quietly. "If I have the energy to, we definitely should have a walk. But-- if not, can we..." a rough, loud swallow allowed a break between his sentence, "...just, lie down in your room?"

There was intent in the suggestion, though it was heavily laden with uncertainty that it might be a horrible idea.

(It IS a horrible idea, he argued internally, in fact it is the most inappropriate thought process he had ever had in a while yet. WHY did his mind even go there in the first place? Was he so used to the chain of sex and torture, that it had now become natural for his body to demand one after another, to seek comfort in both of its miseries? Could he then say he never wanted any of it, if when he was given the opportunity to choose, he willingly chose the same outcome for himself? Is it the same at all with Clark whom he loves with all of his heart; or does it show Howard's hypocrisy instead?)

Clark wrapped his arms around his spouse and pulled him close again, tucked him away back into the crook of his shoulder as if he could shield him from the world there.

❝ We can do that. ❞ If he picked up on the subtle intent, he made no show of it. There was nothing wrong with that sort of intimacy after something traumatic, not inherently. It would all just rest on whether or not the vampire was in a good enough headspace for Clark to feel comfortable pursuing that intimacy alongside him.

❝ We can spend all day in bed if that's what you want. ❞ And before Howard could make any sort of objections he added, ❝ I'm not pleased with the circumstances, sure. But I do genuinely like the idea of hiding away and just being in your company the whole day. And I'm sure you'd do the same for me. Probably will do the same for me eventually. ❞

The nightmares had all but vanished. But he knew they were there still, lurking. Howard's presence helped an incredible amount, but he knew the real reason they hadn't plagued him was because he was busy. Overly busy. Too busy to even relive his fucking Hell trauma, funny enough. Not just business busy but busy with a flock of disgusting creatures he needed eradicated-— the coven.

❝ Whatever my sweet boy needs, he'll get. Easy-peasy. ❞

R☆ckstar☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆: and first, Lestat is reluctant to leave Clark's side, as if this is a trap to draw distance and separate them. The vampire searches the cambion's face for a moment, seeking any shadow of a doubt on a surface of a perfect reflection. He trusts Clark fully, he knows that his manager and lover understands both of his roles, and yet, deep inside, he still thinks Clark will leave in the most painful way.

Lestat knows most people in his life would like to hurt him, because a suffering immortal is a delightful metaphor. "Okay." He sulks and nods his head, departing from Clark's side to access a grand bedroom located on the other side of the penthouse.

He takes off his shirt, tossing it haphazardly someplace. It barely makes it on the chair that hoards other costume pieces. The bedding is soft when it welcomes the vampire. He peels away the blanket, fluffs up the many pillows littering the base of the headboard. He gets rid of the decorative ones and ensures the sheets are pressed neatly. Then, sitting up with the blanket draped over his lap, he stares at the door. Waiting.

Clark watched Lestat leave-— reluctantly so. The searching look had been met with...? Not a wall in the sense it was something meant to keep the vampire out or to protect something inward, but a wall in the sense that he was sturdy and steadfast. There was no doubt to be had, no brewing cruelty for Lestat to find in that impassive and walled expression.

By the time the blond had settled in the bed, Clark was entering as well. On one arm was draped his outfit and the other hand held his tie and smaller accessories like his rings and cufflinks. The latter was left delicately on the nearest flat surface and he then went about folding each article of clothing until that too was rested next to the small pile.

He was left comfortably in simply his boxer briefs. Realistically, he surely had left behind some sort of lounge clothing there at the penthouse, but he hadn't felt inclined to take the time to look.

❝ What an expression you're making. ❞ He hummed gently and trailed around the other side to slip into the bed until the blankets was also resting there in his lap. ❝ You're posed as if you were waiting for me to come back from a war I'd never come back from. ❞