#* stlispenard / lestat de lioncourt : 02 .

[masteredinstinct]

he follows lestat's lead and downs the rest of his drink , hissing as he sets the glass back down . the whiskey was meant to warm his belly up after that walk in the rain but , this time , it burns . so much so that it helps him ignore the smirk on lestat's lips ( like the cat that ate the fucking canary ) . before louis gets a chance to recover , there's more whiskey on the table . probably better this way ; if he continues to drown himself in alcohol perhaps his thoughts will become muddled abstract things , no longer prisoners to lestat de lioncourt's gravitational pull .

and , as if on queue , the other man tips his head back , contemplating the room's ceilings , exposing his pale neck to the dim lights . louis glances at him and feigns indifference perfectly --- but he cannot help but wonder what goes through the blond's head , sitting there beside him , buying louis drinks , calling him all of these pet names ... is he fond of him ? certainly not to the extent louis du lac is fond of the blond , but still ; to have a friend as close as he , one who has seen him shed tears at the opera and listened to him pour his heart out over his family , his fears , his dreams --- was that too not a form of love ? it was certainly not the romance he envisioned when left alone in his chambers ( louis quickly took a gulp from his drink , hoping it'd wash away the sinful memories from his mind ) but still --- to be known , TO BE SEEN ... some men would never know such joy but louis did ! and to have lestat de lioncourt as his unlikely saviour was a greater blessing than louis should have ever been given .

lestat comments on the temperature and louis scoffs . he's about to suggest that he should stop downing his whiskey like water but stops in his tracks ; the frenchman is undoing his shirt with the same nonchalance he had stripped naked whilst window shopping with louis . were these the european sensibilities all those well-travelled men spoke of ? or did lestat know just how beautiful he looked to the rest of the world ? brown eyes struggle to pull away from the exposed skin but still , they do . louis stares straight ahead now . anyone else might have thought he had set his eyes on the pretty redhead waltzing across the other side of the room ... but his peripherals are painfully aware of lestat's presence .

the ice clinks against the walls of his glass . and before he knows it , louis is speaking again . " you should take that vest off . " his brow is knitted but he does not glance at lestat after offering his helpful suggestion . instead louis busies himself with another sip from his drink . it's an innocent solution to a mundane problem ... why should he hesitate ? he shouldn't . dark eyes shift to meet lestat's and though louis' stare is steady , he feels as if he holds his friend's gaze for far too long .

      it feels like a stalemate. louis moving his pawns in a way that makes it abundantly clear that there are limits to what they can discuss. it is far from second nature for him to yield and yet he seemingly has by offering his apology.  “and to you, louis,” lestat raises the glass to his mouth another time with a smug, self-satisfied smile on his lips, “saintly and forgiving.” he empties the thing and ignores the wretched feeling that passes through his body. a shiver runs cold down his back: what a fool you are, lestat, to be in love and playing by his rules.

      lestat signals for another round to be brought to them. money is no issue and he has half a mind to bribe every person in the room to leave: empty the establishment and give louis a chance to act on the impulse. HIS GAME, HIS RULES. in lestat’s mind their roles are reversed and louis is the one leaping at him with a kiss. he nearly chokes thinking of what he might taste like - if the alcohol has become sweet on his breath or if he can taste the freshness of this evening’s rain. would he be wearing that same cocky smile? lestat leans further back into his chair, tips back his head and stares up at the ceiling for a bit. it seems perhaps like a nonchalant gesture, but it is far from it. he is trying and failing to get the images to leave his mind. 

      “it’s quite warm” he comments, eventually, while a hand comes up to fumble with the first couple of buttons on his shirt. to hell with propriety, he thinks,shame does not have a place at a whorehouse like the fair play and louis should learn as much. it’s all too tempting for him to seek out louis’ eyes and make sure that he is looking, but he doesn’t. instead, he undoes the buttons like HIS FRIEND is supposed to think nothing of it as he exposes parts of his chest - just a natural occurrence.  

[masteredinstinct]

the laugh which spills from lestat's lips is far from warm ; it startles him . how strange to find the other man responding to what louis thought to be an obvious declaration of affection , with such bitterness . but his anger does not take the bait . lestat laughs because he is hurt . he laughs because he does not want this meeting to end . and neither does louis . but it helps that his hand is pulled away by lestat's own --- he would have never had had the strength to do it by himself . louis swallows down any urges lingering right beneath the skin ... this night cannot unravel as both of them wish it would . IT WON'T . lestat says something about not wanting to respect louis' wishes because of the way he looks at him and he cannot help but scoff , half-amused , half-defeated : NEITHER DO I .

the corners of his lips curl at that last warning . once again his paramour is looking for a thread to tug at , hoping some part of him will unravel and change both their fates . but the more louis looks at lestat , the more he thinks of all the ways he hurt him for not knowing what to want --- who to be . his now abandoned hand feels exceptionally cold . louis hides it back in his coat's pocket . "it is now." he replies with a small tilt of his head . this was an open invitation ; a game of tag across continents and timezones between the two of them that they were unwilling , or simply fearful , to commit to . but louis tugged at that thread too --- and he foolishly hoped some day , something would come out of it .

he lingers there for a moment , watching lestat in silence , drinking in his beauty even when camouflaged by the extravagance of his stage persona . his legs felt heavier than ever before . but still , louis gives a small step back and does his best to smile . "thanks for walking me to the hotel ." despite the curve on his lips , his voice lacks the nonchalance louis had intended to communicate . this isn't a goodbye , he reminded himself , even if he does not follow you , you know you'll find a way back to him . louis flutters his lashes . he forced a shaky exhale to leave his lips after realising he had just been standing there , holding his breath while trying to memorise how lestat looked that evening . his feet managed another step towards the main entrance of the building . "i'll see you around ."

      it’s only when louis bows his head that he realizes the real blow of his words. BLAME - an insinuation rolling haphazardly off his own tongue. none of it is premeditated - he would probably not have noticed if not for that one minuscule look away. by the time it hits him, louis is already saying something different and lestat can’t think of a way to stop him. you are too complicated sounds so similar to he’s a lot, you’re a lot. he knows the sting of it. brows knit together in a frown, lips pausing in a way that makes it look like he’s restraining something - another erratic outburst, crying or laughing. how can he be sure?

      there louis is going on about saying goodbye while still holding onto him. he thinks about standing still, thinks about saying nothing, just to see if it continues then. he wonders how long he has before he says another wrong thing that’ll make this go away. clashingly, louis says what he expects him to and, it being nothing like what he wants to hear, he wants to grab him and shake him. if begging ever worked with him, he’d beg for his love or just another kiss: another kiss to send him deeper into his pit of confusion. the time for that seems to also have passed. 

      he mimics louis’ sad smiles but he knows he's staring a strangely blank expression. staring and following the movement of louis’ eyes as they drift over his face. asking to be kissed while saying something else entirely. 

      again, it takes him way too long register what he's saying. he hears it and thinks perhaps it should make him angry that louis thinks the tour matters more than this. it’s infuriating to know that he thinks of him with other people and so readily ignores the fact that all he wants is a single ounce of affection from him. him, him, him, always him. he is being sweet but it feels like another knife to his throat. 

       he ends up laughing so bitterly. at least he knows that will wipe the sadness of louis’ face and anything to him is better than that. “i will do anything you want me to do.” he’ll feed off every groupie and become high of their ecstasy on every continent, in every city, so that eventually it will kill his loneliness and how homesick for louis he feels. he touches the hand by his neck and then carefully shoves it away. “you are probably right. we can’t be trusted to respect each others wishes, even if we wanted to. i just really don’t want to when you’re looking at me like that. perhaps i will find you, but i don’t think that’s up to me, louis.”

[masteredinstinct]

it's a trick of a light , surely , but , when louis leans in , lestat's eyes appear to be quite black . he thinks he sees his friend restraining not to shout back , not to take a swing at him , the usual behaviours which fights over women usually awaken within men --- and yet , louis imagines it's not a bark the other man attempts to hold back but a kiss . a shameful thing to think , but in the privacy of his twisted mind , louis can indulge himself in being deceitful and ungodly . lestat mentions miss lily and it feels like a bucket of cold water ; of course, OF COURSE ! that was the object of desire of this tale . louis was jealous of lestat and of lestat alone --- why did he feel the need to keep reminding himself of such obvious concepts ?

when lestat laughs , it does not sound genuine , but it does sound beautiful . MERCY , gifted to him by the frenchman's lips ... he would not pry or try to expose louis' true nature . it was a sham they both were contributing into , but at least they remained equal under this guise . nothing needed to change ... this , louis thought , was good enough . his expression softened . "you're forgiven ." louis reassured with a small smile . he recalled reading a passage about forgiveness in a little black book --- about it being an unconscious affair which one cannot choose to do ... it merely happens . he tried to remember the writer or , at the very least , the title , but all louis could really remember was how the author had compared forgiving to falling in love.

louis nearly cringed at that . pathetic . wretched . sick .

"but if you still feel like you got some repentin' to do and that repentin' means me not havin' to pay for damn fine whiskey , hell , who am i to stop you?" he quickly said with a shrug , grabbing his whiskey with a cocky smirk . humour would heal his shame . and if it didn't , a copious amount of alcohol would surely help . louis held his glass up between them , proposing a toast . " to new beginnings . "

there is a thrill unearthed whenever some new side of louis emerges. like when his laughs are cut short and all the bricks that make up his walls are stacked back up high. every time it becomes more unsteady. it is exactly what lestat expects and it excites him to provoke it. the adrenaline makes him feel remarkably alive, his heart palpitating in new incomprehensible ways. he finds it difficult not to stir. louis threatens to come closer and lestat fears he stares back at him with eyes that are wide-blown and black from appetency. lestat folds his fingers and presses his nails into the skin of his palms to keep himself from reaching out.

     what he musters is not composure but something that vaguely resembles it. composure in that HE HAS NOT YET latched right onto louis’ throat but is still just sitting tensely on the edge of his seat. “i am competitive, what can i say? but, in my own defense, i was not aware of your particular attachment to the girl before the matter. i insist it was not as calculated as you make it out to be.” there is a lie in there somewhere. he does try his best to sound sincere, the way comrades do while LYING through their teeth.

     lestat looks at the contents of his glass and swirls it around a little before having a reluctant taste. the effect is sobering. he keeps his eyes lowered while louis continues to talk right up until his talking becomes a staggering plea. he lets a bit of silence persist between them, once again weighing how far he can push it now. he is all too tempted to call his bluff again and insist that miss lily is nothing but a costume he wears. it sits on the tip of his tongue, but he swallows it along with the unpalatable whiskey. 

     eventually he swaps his words for laughter. it feels abrupt and disingenuous even to him. “monsieur, you are  sharper than any other man i have ever met - of course there’s is no need for me to tell you how you feel about our dear woman. i spoke out of turn, forgive me.” lestat nods his head towards louis’ glass in the next instant, “i’ll happily buy you another once you’re through, in fact, i’ll buy you another ten rounds if it means you can forget this moment and we can continue our pleasant - although wet - evening.”

[masteredinstinct]

it's a heartbreaking sight , watching lestat doubt the testimony louis had given him . both of them tugged at the string bonding them together but seemingly at different times ; louis had yanked at it too hard now and the target of his affections did not trust the pull . it made louis feel clumsy and awkward . but the fingers which wrap around his arm without pulling away must mean lestat still feels something , right ? despite his avoidant gaze and the silence brewing between them , he hadn't given up yet , had he ? louis felt responsible for this apparent numbness --- he had wounded lestat's feelings so many times in the past that the scar tissue had built a protective shell around the frenchman .

his lashes flutter when his ex-paramour finally speaks and louis has to bow his head in shame . he knew lestat to be right ; he was the one constantly toying with the lines each of them drew in the sand . his wants and needs constantly battled with each other , leaving the man standing before him lost and suspicious of louis' love for him . matter of the fact is louis wants lestat to chase after him . wants him to look for him like he had this time . wants him to think of him the way louis does . but it's not a fair expectation to burden lestat with .

his thumb brushes gently over the other man's jugular when he's asked to tell lestat what to do . kiss me , louis thinks . kiss me and never stop . but that is not what he says :

" say goodbye , return to your band and continue your tour exactly as you intended . " louis replies , his expression undecipherable . " keep singing those things you call songs while you fuck , kill and maim whoever you deem fit . find comfort in the love that comes from being worshipped by thousands . savour it , test it , break it if that'll make you happy --- " slowly , the same half-smile he had worn a lifetime ago , back in louisiana , tilts his full lips . " and when you're done with that , come find me . " he says with a small shrug , as if this was all far simpler than they both made it out to be .

louis' hand lingers there against lestat's skin . he has a hard time imagining himself pulling it away now that it had found his lover's flesh to latch on to . louis swallows down the knot in his throat when he glances down at lestat's lips again . distance would do them good --- it would help them both gain perspective and learn about what they really wanted ( lestat , lestat , lestat ) . monsieur de lioncourt was wrong about louis not wanting this but not about him not thinking straight . the smile faded into something humbler when louis spoke again . " my door is always open for you . " a momentary flash of sadness crossed his features . " always . "

     lestat freezes in his spot while louis talks headlong at him. the words hammer into his eardrums and echo loudly in his head but he doesn’t trust it to be real. in spite of his warning, he barely registers being grabbed by the arm, he just stares at him, eyes straining not to blink. there’s no moving forward and no moving back. he regrets opening his mouth in the first place, regrets poking a hole in the bag that contains his temper. his frenzied, nonsensical temper. 

     nothing about the taste of louis on his lips is regrettable. nothing at all. it’s all he wants and perhaps that is what makes it feel mockingly selfish. all his insecurities stare back at him through louis’ vibrant eyes. he tastes his own poison in his mouth. old sadness, old doubts well up inside his chest and he fears what it will look like once he bursts. i’ll destroy it again. you, again.

     and he speaks such lovely words, aching words. after all this time he is handed something and he shuts it out and refuses to believe it. nostalgia, nothing more other than perhaps pity. he hisses quietly through his teeth, like a cat in pain, when louis tugs at his sleeve and then lets his hand come up to his neck. instinctively lestat reaches for his forearm and his nails bore into his skin. he can’t shove the hand away in spite of telling himself that it is what he needs to do. he could close his eyes and wish it all away but all he does is stare blankly ahead.

     “you make things complicated,” he says when the numbness wears off and the long pause is finally broken, “I wish you would not tell me this knowing it’ll only spur me on. the kiss makes you think not straight. you do not want this.” they are cut from the same cloth after all, talking each other from their senses so they get stuck in a limbo. lestat looks down at the hand on his neck, contemplating how to convince himself not to be seduced by it. he doesn’t want louis to let go of him. he wants him and wants him always, “please, louis, tell me what to do.”

[masteredinstinct]

to have him this close felt surreal ; the phantom pains of their relationship had finally been tended to and healed with a mere kiss . how many times had he thought about this moment since their last departure ? and how foolish had it been to try and compare a dream to reality ? nothing else on earth felt like this --- no other man's lips had ever satiated the bottomless hunger which louis was haunted by . both of his hands instinctively reach for lestat's face , cradling it between his palms , humming against his mouth as he traced every inch his tongue could reach --- it felt like returning home .

smaller kisses are pecked along the curve of lestat's mouth as he breathes his name ( prettier than any song he had written to mock or spite him ) . but just as louis feels as if he might get lost again in the other man's arms , he slips right through his fingers . no hesitation was found in the sudden distance . it leaves louis eyes fluttering and his arms lingering as if still hoping his heart might return to them . but when a hand is held up and traces of crimson line those haunting blue eyes , louis feels a sharp pain pierce his chest . you don't really want this . oh , if looks could kill , lestat might have experienced a third death right there and then .

" this ? " louis asked , gesturing in the frenchman's general direction . " this , lestat ? " a hand shoots out to grab the forearm which tried to warn him about keeping his distance . he tugs at it , but it is not a violent demand . it feels like a plea ; like louis is bargaining despite his gritted teeth and knitted brow .

" everywhere i go , every face i see , every fuckin' song i hear on the radio , this --- " he trails off , emerald eyes glued to the blond's features . it was always hard to find the right words to be earnest through . it was not the distance between them that wounded him but the fact that lestat might think louis' apprehension had anything to do with him or who he is . he shakes his head , his other hand tugging at lestat's sleeve in an attempt to pull him closer . " there's not a day that goes by where i don't return to this . since the night i killed you to this day , always --- always this . " he squeezes the other man's arm , refusing to believe that lestat would think him capable of not wanting him , not pining , not aching for him .

" and it is not pretty or fair , it might not even be good , but you need to get this through your head once and for all lestat , " he's stepping as close as he is allowed when his hand reaches to latch onto the side of the other vampire's neck . " what i want --- all the pain and blood , is only so i can return to this . " emerald eyes shift across his features , like a famished creature , trying to memorise all of lestat's features before he gets pulled away from him again and onto some stage . before he comes to his senses and realises that in order to offer lestat the love he deserves he must first learn to love himself ... for just a few seconds of silence , louis allows himself to be ignorant to all of this . for a few seconds , they are the only two creatures left in the world . nothing else matters .

      there’s a gravity to louis’ stare when he looks at him, something in his eyes that he has seen in no one else. louis can pry him open with them, split him right down the centre and expose all that is under his skin. whenever he stares like this there’s no telling if it is animosity or lust or a disjointed bit of both; the ambiguity is exhilarating one moment and terrifying the next. lestat is as vulnerable to him as he has always been and louis as oblivious to own influence. louis stares and lestat all but mouths: do it - whatever it is - do it. 

     “that’s right.. you won’t even give me the satisfaction of knowing that you care enough to be jealous.” bitterness rolls off his tongue and he means every word even as the conversation becomes superfluous. secondary to the push and pull of their bodies: here’s something more pressing than talk. their hands joined on his chest, louis’ pointed nails nearly digging into him, lestat’s heart threatening to burst right under there. lestat knows right before it happens that this is when they’ll yield. 

     he moans pathetically against the other man’s mouth when he kisses him. a whimper somehow equally soft and amused. nothing is ever as welcome as louis’ wet, hot mouth crashing onto his own even when its bound to make things more complicated. lestat releases his hand to get a better hold of louis, running it along his back and up his neck until his fingers are buried in his hair and he’s tugging at handful of his curls. lestat meets the roughness willingly, encourages it by pliantly opening his mouth and pressing him closer. 

     the taste of him is nostalgic. the one thing that keeps him from thinking he’s somehow imagining him there. no stranger’s mouth has ever come close to resembling this: “louis…” lestat breathes against him, “louis.” 

     and suddenly anger becomes sadness and can feel red blood tears filling up his eyes. annoyed, he stumbles back, letting louis go as fast as the other had come onto him. he shakes his head and holds up a hand up to warn louis against stepping closer again, “you don’t really want this.”

[masteredinstinct]

it leaves him dumbfounded the lack of faith lestat has in louis' resilience . he speaks of snakes and reconciliations and it causes something horrible and familiar to awaken in the depths of louis' stomach . a desire to be understood by him ; a frustration grown by his intense admiration for the man that could never be demonstrated through words --- how could he ever go back to the life he had shared with armand after what he had learned ? " i don't go around offering forgiveness to just anyone , lestat . that's something i gave to you and you alone . a rare gift ... but you're too damn insecure to realise it . " emerald eyes search for any form of recognition in the blond's face but , the more louis looks , the more he wonders if this was lestat's goal all along : to get him rilled up . to provoke nostalgia through anger . and this heat , this sick pleasure in pushing back and butting heads , it made him feel like they were back in louisiana , in their home , storming up and down the stairs , walking by the grand piano and kicking down towers of books ... it felt like they had picked up right where they have left off .

louis , in a strange sickening way , had missed this .

" ask you ? you think i want to know about the shit you're up to ? " he hisses those words out through gritted teeth , choosing to ignore the kind confession which had been dropped at his feet . would louis ever tell lestat how present he had been during all of those years spent by armand's side ? no , he couldn't . to reveal to lestat that he had imagined him there , sitting in the corner , even when he and his ex-paramour were at their most intimate , would be gifting too much power to an already overly-confident man . this is a useless fight . one which will crown no winners . louis is ready to be an adult about it and throw in the towel . he should return to his hotel room anyway . he was sure he'd see lestat again in a few months , when the hurt of the argument had dissipated and both of them were made tender and careful again by the distance .

but lestat would not let him .

a hand grabs his and presses it against the chest that traps louis' heart --- no , lestat's ... was there even a difference ? words uttered decades ago are echoed back in a deep soft voice which nearly causes louis' to give in . but he shouldn't want this . even though his fingers gripped the fabric of the other vampire's shirt ( like he was afraid lestat might vanish right there and then ) , that spoiled buffoon had admitted to parading his sexual escapades in order for louis to bare witness . was that not a form of torture ? was that not cruel ? was that not the most pathetic attempt at getting his attention imaginable ? louis wrinkled his nose while glaring unblinkingly at lestat as if trying to burn a hole into the man's head . he thinks about all the things he should tell him : you're sick in the head or what the fuck is wrong with you or some variation of the two that would suck all of the bravado right out of lestat's veins .

instead , something propels louis forward . and , just like that , he is crashing his lips into lestat's , open mouthed and hungry in this show of affection . his hand tightened its grip on the fabric of the other man's shirt , tugging him closer in an unkind and demanding gesture . all of the hurtful things louis had wished to say moments ago are melted and moulded into the same earnest thought which had been echoing in the depths of his mind since first laying eyes on lestat : i missed you .

     lestat sucks in his cheeks and bites down hard enough that he tastes blood. it keeps his bitter little smile from growing wider at louis’ response. stubbornly he tries to mask the satisfaction he feels at the rise he is getting out of louis — exactly as predicted. the jealousy is real enough, but something in the way it forces them to play into their old games makes it somewhat worth it. louis here weighs more in his mind than the thought of armand sitting alone in dubai. perhaps because, in spite of himself, he already knows that he’s fantasizing.

     “not my business?” he retorts, waving his hand and making a sound in disbelief. even after all this time he feels he’s owed it. if louis is fucking someone, he needs to know; if the companion he’s spent seventy-seven years with is back, he needs to know that also, “he’s a snake, louis, he might have crawled back to you, begging naked on his knees for all i know. you came for me and left - leaving plenty of time for a reconciliation.” louis has a track record of being swayed to forgive, how can lestat be sure?

     the finger tapping against his chest gives him enough reason to laugh. lestat throws back his head promptly and chuckles into the air. they take the road they’ve travelled far too many times. “ah, but that is not for me, is it? old catholic doctrines have a hold of you still,” lestat loves the heat of the fire and he’s always going to play with it when the opportunity presents itself, “you can ask me anything about … well…. all of that and i’d answer you happily. i would say ‘louis, mon cher, none of those people matter. come now, don’t be jealous’ and i would make it plain to you that for more than a century there’s only one body that i truly crave.”

     the confession is not hard for him. he likes to say it. louis tries to end the conversation but lestat catches the hand and its pointed finger and holds it against his chest, “doesn’t it ever occur to you even now that those people are pale proxies of you and if i let you see it, it is because i want you to?”

[masteredinstinct]

the question which is thrown at him catches louis by surprise .

but his first instinct , when faced with that old familiar jealousy , is to smile . he bites the inside of his cheek , tries to keep his teeth from showing as he gazes at the other man with head shaking with an amused disapproval . after all those years and miles apart , lestat de lioncourt still couldn't help himself . THE MAN WAS A FOOL . and louis a greater one for finding such heinous habits so oddly entertaining . " you're unbelievable . " the manner with which he declares this makes it sound like a compliment ; like louis still cannot believe he gets to spend time with lestat after all they had been through . it's unbelievable to him that they are both there , breathing , laughing , missing each other ... lestat is unbelievable and , yet , louis is tempted to relay all of his faith between the man's hands .

but , of course , no sweet thing offered by lestat de lioncourt can be enjoyed without a bitter aftertaste .

the crudeness of the following question hardens louis' features . his brow furrows and the emerald eyes which had been gazing at his ex-paramour with a twinkle of nostalgia now squint at him . " none of your business , lestat . " is that all he has to ask about the matter ? after more than seventy years spent with the vampire armand , was the quality of their sexual life all lestat cared about ? louis does not mention that he knows about lestat's escapades with his ex-lover , does not prod about him fucking armand on the floor of the theatre's balcony ... does not even consider mentioning doing all of that while nicky watched ( that would have been a low blow and louis had not been angered enough to reach that peak of cruelty ) .

the vampire gives a small step towards lestat despite himself . " i threw him out for all he did , went looking for you and you're still fuckin' jealous . how does that make sense ? " his tone rises a couple of octaves ㅤ ─ ㅤ it sounds as if louis is genuinely perplexed by the way lestat's mind operates . he gives another step forward , pressing one long finger against his own chest repeatedly to underline his point . " i do not ask about the rows of people coming in and out of your dressing room . i don't ask about the fuckin' tabloid covers trying to guess who you're fucking every single week or the pretty guest stars in your videos ... i'd never ask you to justify your urges to me ! " each word is a hiss , something meant to cut through the skin , verging on becoming personal and painful ㅤ ─ ㅤlouis stops himself and straightens his back , both hands raising in sudden unspoken surrender .

" you know what ? " he takes a very deep breath . " we're not doing this . "

     lestat turns his cheek, exhaling more smoke into the night air. he tears his eyes away from louis - he doesn’t need to see the way his expression sours at the rejection. standing like this, they pass more as strangers than lovers, with a safe distance between them and their eyes drifting. lestat stares blankly at the dull stone building beside them. he fixates on a random spot, a crack in the mortar, and says nothing for a long while. it’s difficult for him to not turn into a stubborn child and beg again, but hadn’t he just promised himself to be good?

     he can tell, even just out of the corner of his eyes, that louis is conflicted too. he senses hands moving about, senses him tense under his coat. at least it isn’t all as easy as he pretends it is. eventually he finishes his cigarette and squashes it with the tip of his shoe and then gives an exaggerated sigh. lifting up his shoulders, he says, “i meant just rome, louis, but nevermind. it isn’t important.”. 

     it likely is for the better. it’s easier to be on opposite continents than standing on the same street. lestat knows that, in spite of his promise to be good, staying away isn’t an option. he imagines him in the green rooms, imagines him reading a book while music is blasting, imagines himself throwing himself into his lap and begging for his undivided attention. he imagines the petty fight they’ll have. he’d never get out on that damned stage. and he’d never be able to keep his promise of keeping his hands off him. being friendly, at a safe distance, is what’s best.

     “who is waiting for you in dubai? is armand not gone?” it hadn’t struck him earlier that he might somehow have snaked his way back to him. it makes his blood turn into ice. lips twist grimly and he looks back to louis finally, “is he that good of a fuck?” here’s is that same old jealousy, striking through him like lightning, “… hardly…”. 

[masteredinstinct]

each step back tugs at some part of him . a rope is being stretched between them and , if they keep this up , it might just snap . but louis is unwilling to follow lestat — unwilling to let the strings of his heart be tugged by that man in order to throw him into another spiral in which the world starts and ends with lestat while logic and morality get thrown out the fucking window . louis exhales through his nose while moistening his lower lip while listening to lestat trying to make sense of his invitation ( he thought he was being kind , thought this was what grown-ups did to show there were no hard feelings between them ) . he shrugs helplessly at his ex-lover , widening emerald eyes at him .  “ i dunno , maybe ! ” a sudden touch of louisiana drawl touches his voice . louis quickly regains his bearings and speaks again , softly . “ i don’t know . ” he cannot imagine what kind of signals he must be sending lestat ; HE WANTS TO SEE HIM , BUT DOESN’T WANT HIM CLOSE . he wants him in his home but not in a hotel suite .

he wants to touch him but doesn’t want to be touched back .

louis tilts his head while watching him put a cigarette to his pink lips . notices the discreet reflections of light occasionally captured by his smiling mouth’s moistness . he barely reacts when smoke is blown in his face — louis bites the inside of his cheek instead , trying to remain indifferent to the blond’s childish antics . he only chuckles after hearing lestat’s offering . “ and what will i be doing , lestat ? helping with sound checks ? waiting backstage with the other groupies ? ” an amused smile spreads across his features . perhaps the offer on the table had come with the greatest of intentions but it placed lestat back in the gravitational centre of louis’ life : touring with lestat , watching him , listening to him , waiting on him , wanting him , expecting something from him , every day , every hour and , this time , with an audience to boo and applaud his pathetic efforts . louis shook his head at the man standing across from him . “ i’ve got people waiting on me in dubai , i’ve got — “ none of the names of those expecting his return come to mind while he’s staring lestat in the eye . “ — a whole life to manage . ” louis says , sounding exhausted .

the man’s promises of good behaviour mean nothing . not when he’s desperate to watch lestat break them . one hand finally slips out of his pocket to massage his right temple . “ it’s not you i’m worried about . ” louis confesses with a pointed look . he’s the one who travelled all the way to fucking england to make sure a piece of art he didn’t want wasn’t a fake just so he could have an excuse to see him without having to betray his own conscience . louis was always the one struggling not to drop all of his dignity for a few hours of lestat’s attention . HE WAS NO SAINT — if there was someone amongst the two who needed to learn restraint , IT WAS LOUIS DE POINTE DU LAC . “ surely you know that . ” 

tour life has a few benefits. in every country he is presented with a string of new bodies to suit every possible whim of his. a delectable palette to sample at leisure. some of them have veins pumped so full of drugs that they look like bursting. he likes to feed on the addicts that can make his mind go numb. he wants louis and claudia out of his mind so there’s just his music around him. he is not always successful, it has a tendency to backfire: and those other times he ends up crying hysterically in somebody’s lap, wanting no one more than louis. 

when louis is around, he is disenchanted with his new life. lestat has the world eating crumbs out of his hand and then louis shows up and he wants none of it. just him. he turns his face and lets the hotel’s cheap yellow lights illuminate him and his wet, pink mouth. his lips glisten and beg to be kissed. lestat’s throat becomes a desert and his pupils widen until there’s only hint of grey left in his eye. he tries to tell himself no but there’s still no denying how much he wants it. 

talk of dubai has a sobering effect on him. lestat makes a strangled sound and takes a step back to avoid touching him. “if we were in dubai now would this night end any differently?” the blond tilts his head to one side as he tries to make sense of it, “isn’t it just as bad of an idea as this?” they are in the same place at the same time and louis wishes them worlds away. like they exist only in hypotheticals. maybe sometime. it’s rejection but without giving the final blow, at least that is show lestat sees it. dubai is far away enough that it feels like it’s unlikely to happen, but still it might. lestat laughs when he realizes that louis still doesn’t know that he means it when he says he’d give up the world for him. 5000 miles and a tour is nothing.

he picks a cigarette from his pocket and lights it. he continues to chuckle all the while. amused, hurt, deflecting. lestat hates trying to be good when he knows exactly what it is he wants. “tomorrow. you can conclude whatever business you have here and then fly with me to rome.” he teasingly blows a little smoke in his face, “i’ll be a perfect angel, saint louis. we can talk and nothing else.”

[masteredinstinct]

it feels as if he has lost something , the moment lestat's hand drops from his chest . and though the distance ought to make things easier , it leaves louis feeling strangely cold . he does not show it ㅤ─ ㅤ if he were to display just how needy he actually feels , louis fears it might shatter something for the both of them ; an opportunity for a fresh start , a better future , growth ... emerald eyes saw the hurt in lestat's face . louis wished he could reach out and kiss it off of him . his hands remain hidden in his jacket's pockets .

" leaving tomorrow evening . " louis admitted with a sad half-smile . neither of them would be celebrating the renewed distance between them . he moistened his lower lip , turning his head to glance at the hotel's door and away from the other vampire . perhaps he could follow his tourㅤ ─ ㅤ make arrangements to stop by another time , maybe when he reaches mediterranean venues , maybe if he ever becomes big in asia , maybe , maybe , maybeㅤ─ ㅤlouis shrugged the idea off . he had no intentions of becoming lestat's groupie . " it might be a while before i return to europe . " he added , finding it to be the grown-up thing to do ; THERE WAS NO USE IN GETTING CARRIED AWAY . these trips required long hours of planning and travelling and brought further complications with shifting timezones and sunlight hours ... it just wasn't going to happen .

louis turned his head back to lestat with a renewed levity to his voice . " maybe you should drop by dubai sometime . " a flash of a smile , genuine , but still somewhat apprehensive . his home was still filled to the brim with armand's ghost ㅤ─ ㅤand the country where he had settled would not allow lestat the same liberties he enjoyed as a decadent rock star . louis glanced down at his shoes , struggling to smother a wide smile from spreading across his features when imagining lestat fashioning himself a kandora . " knowing you i don't think you'd like it there very much but , you know . "ㅤ i'd like you to come . ㅤㅤa sentence which was never spoken . louis' anxieties of appearing desperate or clumsy with his affections for lestat had grown with time . he remained awfully still , watching the blonde before him unblinkingly . emerald eyes shifted across his face , his outfit ... louis was trying to memorise every little detail he could . he wanted to remember him like this .

     it’s an all too familiar game. dancing around the inevitable in choreographed circles, moving like they fear stepping on each other’s toes, although they are, in reality, in sync. their rhythm is interrupted by their minds playing them against one another, a century between them and the idea that they can’t possibly want the same; lestat finally coming out of his solitude and louis pursuing it. lestat loves louis’ sensible little head, his hankering for human rules and morality, but he recognizes it as the very part that keeps pulling him away from him. you insist on punishing yourself, mon cher. you long to find yourself, but you deny the part that lies with me? if lestat could speak without restraint, then he might make him see. 

     while his hands are on louis’ chest, lestat feels the vibrations emanating from his laughter. the sound itself is satisfying, but it is the sensation of it passing between their bodies that warms him. lightness is under there somewhere. lestat supposes it relieves him to know that, in spite of all, he laughs at him the way he once had.  being the creature that he is, he is simply cursed with wanting more and more. lestat smiles when he suddenly becomes flustered, but it prompts him to let go. his hand dropping to either side of his body as if to tell himself: no more. 

     he gives a nod of his head, to signal that he understands - or that he tries to. he might have learned his lesson from years of pushing too hard for the love he barely deserved. it’s in his nature to be too much, to be a lot. lestat looks away from him, away from earnest eyes, staring at the door that’ll soon separate them. he nods again, but this time with a soft, but tortured sigh. it hurts and he can’t hide the fact - and he’s not sure louis would want him to. “qui… i do know or, at the very least, i like to think so.” he takes a few steps back to prevent himself from reaching out, to prevent another bold suggestion and to ease the tension. 

     “how long will you be in london? will you stay in europe?” lestat asks, nerves making his voice inevitably soft, “… do you mean to come see me again or is there… is there simply no way?”

[masteredinstinct]

he is slow when burying both hands in his burberry coat's pockets . his attempts at smothering the urge to reach out for lestat prove successful even when he flashes him a dazzling grin ... even when a finger coaxes a half-smile out of louis . lestat had always been more immediate with his affections ㅤ─ ㅤ showing love and praise came easily to him while louis usually abstained . he wondered if that made him seem cruel to the other vampire's eyes . though it did secretly please him , watching lestat bargain for more time . IT WASN'T QUITE BEGGING , but it would be the closest thing he'd get .

louis had marvelled in every small advancement society made regarding loves such as theirs ㅤ─ ㅤ but he doubted he'd be able to resist lestat's gravitational pull no matter the century or place . even now , he feels as they are all alone in the city . he tilts his head slightly , letting bright eyes flicker between lestat's own , his smile growing in size , clearly amused . " oh , you'd do that for me ? " louis chuckled with a small nod of his head , letting his laughter melt into something quieter when he felt a hand travel downwards , dangerously close to his heart . as lestat sunk his nails into the fabric , did he feel it ? did he know it belonged to him ?

but his final question provokes a sheepish reaction . louis has to lower his gaze , suddenly overwhelmed by the other man's earnestness . it had been a happy evening . louis had gone looking for him . and they were both there ㅤ─ ㅤ in perpetual pining . WHY SHOULD IT END ? he wets his lips , considering his own desires ( all he wants is to grab lestat by the hand , by the hair , by the waist , to spend the whole evening trying to make up for every year they had spent apart ) . unfortunately , what he needed was a cycle to be broken , lessons to be learned ... hearts to be tamed .

with both hands still lost in the depths of his jacket , louis gives a small shrug . " you know why . " he looks at lestat . and though a smile is still dancing over his lips , louis appears to be struggling with something . " don't make me say it . "

     artificial light shines on him so bright, it makes him feel as though he’s basking in sunlight again. glimmering white, warm, unnatural looking. he is everything under the stage lights and he knows it. feeding off the attention of human beings and all the supernatural beings that come crawling to his shows, he is growing powerful, toeing the line between two separate worlds, toying with what is possible. a century of sulking is culminating in these shows. bang. bang. bang. and all the noise brings him louis de pointe du lac. louis whose heartbeat rises above the rest, clicking in his ears, distracting him from the music. lestat notices him as soon as walks on stage: in the sea of sweating, moving bodies where he does not belong. he sticks out like a sore thumb in his expensive shirt. 

     it would be a lie to say that his presence didn’t only spur him on, straining himself just a little more to impress his paramour. his eyes on him, damned green eyes, drinking up the spectacle. and, although he tries to hide it, he is eager to exit the venue and look for him. lestat knows he’s stuck around because he feels him so intensely. “you came,” he says with child-like glee, high off the night’s energy. lestat always longs for praise, but expression on louis’ face, when he comes towards him, is gratifying in itself. 

     they walk into the night and it feels like the streets of london are those of new orleans. they fall into step with one another like they have on so many occasions. it is simple for a minute and then it isn’t. they reach the hotel and suddenly there are choices to be made. london becomes london again. lestat feels his heart drop to the pit of his stomach when something changes in louis’ expression. off you are again.

     he reaches for him because he is ready to plead for more time. even just another half an hour walking up and down the street. lestat knows it comes across as more of a physical urge when he tilts louis’ chin to catch his eyes (it is always physical with him even when he swears it isn’t). he shakes his head and laughter bubbles in his throat, even as he is feeling a stab of disappointment. he wonders how long it will take before louis stops denying himself whatever it is he wants from him. lestat is past trying to pretend he’s not irrevocably in love with him. “i don’t think anything,” he mumbles, lifting his thumb to louis’ mouth, dragging it sideways as if to provoke a smile, “except that being an awful shame”. 

     lestat is happy with this new age. standing on the pavement, moving in closer to louis, worrying less about being seen. he grins when he catches his eyes on his mouth. yes, louis, you’re right, it wants to be kissed. he loves hearing him make up excuses for why it’s a bad idea like they need something external to attach it to. it’s not a mountain of history between them, but the fact that there’s another day of things to do tomorrow. it is so much simpler than the reality of it all. 

     “i could be gone before you wake up,” he suggests, like there’s a chance of changing his mind, “i like to make the most of these little meetings even if they are just luck.” he runs his hand down across his chin, down his neck and onto his chest, where his fingers sink into his shirt, “it’s been such a happy evening, why should we let it end so prematurely?”