#nickistat

okay, so, to begin let us discuss the tale of Pygmalion and Galatea that i will be using as my reference point. i do not entirely remember which version of this myth i am citing, however i do rigidly remember its format, and so i will be discussing it here.

Pygmalion was a marvellous sculptor who longed for a romantic connection, however he could not find the woman he felt was perfect for him. and so, instead, he sculpted one. he would adorn her with clothes and jewels and pray to Aphrodite for her to become real. one day, Aphrodite granted Pygmalion’s prayer, and marble turned to flesh. however, Galatea, his statue-turned-wife, was not the ideal woman he had created. she had her own thoughts and feelings that were separate from what he had imagined for her. this upset Pygmalion, and so he left and found himself a human wife, leaving Galatea alone. without love keeping her as flesh, Galatea turned back into marble.

so you may be asking how this relates to Nickistat? neither man was ever a marble statue! but, hear me out.

Lestat is Pygmalion to me in this. he is a man desperate for a love that is perfect for him after being so alone and feeling so uncared for. Nicki could also be Pygmalion - he helps to shape Lestat into the man he is like a sculptor with marble - but i think he fits more as Galatea. Lestat has the idea of how he will be that blossoms from their early years, before the stress of life begins to fully get to Nicki and worsens his mental health. however, Nicki’s worsening mental health is the start of the statue crumbling, so to speak. his turning into a vampire is like Galatea’s birth into humanity; they are both the catalysts of the fallout.

Nicki’s mania and lack of filter that comes with vampirism, as well as his anger, match Galatea’s growth into humanity by having her own thoughts and feelings. Lestat falls out of love with Nicki when he becomes a vampire, and Pygmalion falls out of love with Galatea when she becomes a human. Lestat leaves Nicki and finds himself lovers who seem to match what he wants (Armand, Louis, etc), as does Pygmalion. their respective first loves / handmade creations are left alone. Galatea is left to turn back to marble, and Nicki is left to crumble into ash eventually when he cannot handle his afflictions any longer. without their makers, they’re left missing a piece of themselves.

Nicki wasn’t sure how long they’d been at this; neglect of their usual shared time together, the recent performance, and the practice along with it had built a stone wall of isolation between the two, both emotionally and physically. He’d spend nearly every waking moment practicing, until bow hairs felt like they’d snap into nothing, until he could barely get the rosin dust washed out of his clothing, all of it just to still land just shy of the first chair he’d so desperately wanted. He’d been beyond pissed; the anger had twisted itself into misery and dropped him into a depression pit, further and further from Lestat’s worried touch. He’d spent the better part of a week past the performance unable to find pride in the audience and their standing ovations; it should have made his heart swell with pride, but as usual, Nicolas could only find doubt in himself. The same doubt that infested his chest had kept them further apart.

Tonight, however, had changed it all. Lestat had seemingly tried everything; he’d cleaned, he’d even managed more coins so they wouldn’t starve to death, and their small parlor even had additional candles lit in it, no longer condemning them to the single tallow stick that they were used to. Usually, Nicki would demand to know if he’d stolen them, but tonight he had no room to care.

It had started with soft words, a warm bath that he’d had no mind to care about the other had afforded the hot water; he’d been scrubbed gently and thoroughly, his skin soaking up the fragranced oil, and Lestat massaged it into his skin with thumbed gentle circles until his muscles felt like they could melt under his touch. When those wandering hands had climbed higher and higher up his thighs, Nicki pushed them away with annoyed huffs and comments of how he didn’t understand how Lestat could find any want to touch him in the state he was in.

After the bath came the argument, and with it the shoves followed. Both of them in their night clothes, an empty wine bottle between them lying on the floor on its side. They were inches from eachother’s face, chests heaving, arms aching from pushing at each other. Finally, the dam burst; Nicki balled the fabric of Lestat’s shirt into fists, hauling him forward into a kiss that had been long overdue. The two men stumbled backwards onto the bed, hands wandering, tugging at clothing that had been on for less than an hour. Nicki tangled fingers into blonde hair, littering all the skin he could reach with kisses- his lips, cheek, jaw. He nipped at the skin of his throat, half considering sucking a hickey into the skin if the rest of the staff at the theatre wouldn’t have noticed.

The stress of the night had been washed away, replaced with familiar calloused hands wandering every inch of his skin. Nicki had been shoved back against the pillows that were propped up against the headboard, and Lestat was slotted between his legs so he wouldn’t be able to roll away unless he wanted to pull back and kick him. The thought had only briefly crossed Nicki’s mind; It melted away with the ache and stress the moment a hand, slick with oil, was wrapped around his cock, slow strokes that only paused when Nicki would reach to try and grab for his wrist, only to be brushed aside with his other hand like he was nothing. He was unused to this right off the bat; on any other night, Nicki would be crawling all over him. Ready to initiate it all and whine until he got what he wanted, no matter how tired both men had been from the day’s activities.

“Stop.” Would come the familiar voice, firm and edged with annoyance when he’d been brushed aside again, and finally Nicki looked down at him. Lestat looked ethereal as always in the candles glow, blonde hair lying as a blanket framing his face and draped down his shoulders. Nicki was hard and leaking enough that they hadn’t needed more oil, and he watched the fingers as they worked over him, pausing occasionally to give him a soft squeeze that would make his entire body twitch.

“Look at you, look at how patient I’ve been.” Lestat would continue, the amusement in the soft voice lit agitation under Nicki’s skin, but he didn’t dare argue; not with how good this felt, not with how beautiful Lestat was. He swallowed the saliva that had been pooling on his tongue; another squeeze just under the head made him whimper, and he rushed to drape his arm over his own mouth to muffle the groan that followed. His eyes squeezed shut, and his head finally lulled back against the pillows. His body was tense, his thighs trembling with each twitch and jerk.

“How talented you are-”

The compliments would continue, and Nicki could feel tears pricking at the edges of his eyes.

“How beautiful you are in this light.”

Nicki whined against the skin of his own arm; he could feel the heat coiling in the pit of his stomach, his breathing labored and ragged with each drag down of those long fingers and the twitch when they’d slide back up, bringing him closer and closer.

“Look Nicki-” The hand didn’t stop, it sped up; and Nicki’s whole body wanted to cave in. No argument this time, he lifted his head, letting his arm drop so he could tangle trembling fingers in the fabric of their blanket.

Nicki’s eyes locked with his own gaze in the mirror across from their bed, the very mirror that they constantly commented on, saying they were amazed it hadn’t shattered yet in all their drunken nights. The glow of light around them, his cheeks wet with overstimulated tears, the back of Lestat’s head shifting as he leaned up closer to him.

“Look at how pretty you are when you’re about to come.”

Warm lips wrapped around the head of his cock the moment his orgasm hit. Wave after wave of pent-up emotion wrecked his body as white coated Lestat’s tongue pressed up against the underside of the head, swallowing like a starved man who’d finally been fed. The hand continued, milking him of every drop as his body twitched and jerked. His hands wanted to move from the blankets to tangle in his hair, but they didn’t dare move. The energy spent with him and his whole body finally rested fully against the pillows; he was breathless, overstimulated, and finally exhausted.

His eyes stayed pinned on his own reflection even as Lestat licked him clean, not caring about the taste of the oil as he lapped up every drop. Only when he finally climbed up to drop next to him, did Nicki turn his head to look over at him.

“I hate you.” He breathed, but the edges of his lips twitched upwards in a smile.