#first lestat fic!!!

[lizardkingeliot]

The door to Lestat’s dressing room was unlocked and slightly open. Two inches of artificial light spilling out in a golden arc on the floor. Roadies rushing in from the loading dock shoving flight cases packed with equipment and so completely lost in their tasks none of them seemed to notice Louis standing there at all.

OR

The groupies line up by the dozen to get on their knees for Lestat. Lestat only gets on his knees for Louis.

[hekateinhell]

Rewrote an old Lestat/Armand ficlet for #ArmandShipFest! Hope you enjoy whether it’s your first time reading or you decide to read it again ♥️

Lestat/Armand | 2.2k | Explicit

“Is that what you think? That I have no use for all of this?” Armand strokes him then, lingering as though he, Armand, were gaining pleasure from the act itself.

“Do you, really?” Lestat’s voice sounds both guttural and wounded to his own ears, the voice of a captured animal.

Armand tilts his head, expression curious and vulnerable, and for an instant Lestat can see them in a world where they had been born of the same time, been boys in the village together, drinking wine and frotting behind the church. Sun-kissed and alive, saddled only with the burdens of a fraction of a mortal lifetime.

[READ ON AO3]

[thighzp]

Let it be known

I am always down to beta read for you!

Just dm me the premise of the fic to make sure it’s something I’m interested in, and I’ll let you know! But I love to talk about fic and love to help with ideas, concepts, even grammar and sentence structure!

(I’ll beta read for firstprince/any RWRB ships, IWTV/any ships, and the pairing/any ships)

[covenofthearticulate]

Words: 10k Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Armand/Lestat de Lioncourt Characters: Armand, Lestat de Lioncourt Additional Tags: Armand's Unethical Dentistry, canon-compliant smut, Medical Kink, Blood Sharing Summary:

“Stay still.” Armand snaps the second Lestat’s claws begin to scratch at the vinyl arm rests. Does it hurt?

No. Yes. No. I don’t know. Lestat’s thoughts are scrambling as his breath becomes quicker, in and out of his nose like a panting dog.

“Does it hurt, or is it just sensitive, Lestat?” Armand asks the question out loud, and only then does Lestat realize he cannot hear him over the rasping, labored breaths heaving from his chest.

I do not like to repeat myself. Does it hurt, or is it just sensitive?

It’s sensitive! He throws the words into Armand’s mind like a high-pitched whine.

“Alright.” Armand nods. “Tell me when it hurts, then.”

[READ ON AO3]

[mlmgaze]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Vampire Chronicles Series - Anne Rice Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Daniel Molloy/Marius de Romanus, Armand/Daniel Molloy, Lestat de Lioncourt/Daniel Molloy, Armand/Daniel Molloy/Lestat de Lioncourt/Marius de Romanus Characters: Daniel Molloy, Armand (Vampire Chronicles), Lestat de Lioncourt, Marius de Romanus Additional Tags: Fareed Bhansali's Vampire Sex Serum, Vampire Sex, Blood Drinking, Daddy Kink, (kind of? briefly?) Marius is there so it's obligatory, Free Use, Voyeurism, Under-negotiated Kink, Cock Warming, Post-Canon, canon-compliant vampire sex, Orgasm Control, Expected tenuous levels of trust between armand/marius and armand/lestat, Bondage, for like a second in a flashback, lestat loves being called a slut, Dom/sub, but really everyone's just domming lestat for fun, Smut, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, unless you count The Dynamics (tm) as plot, Threesome - M/M/M, Foursome - M/M/M/M, Multiship, POV First Person, POV Lestat de Lioncourt Summary:

Lestat gets an invite to Marius' rooms and finds a scene with Armand, Daniel, and Marius already in play. And Marius has a part for Lestat, if he wants it.

tl;dr - Under-negotiated de Romanus voyeurism for Lestat

[half-as-big-as-life]

Vamptember day 1: 1920s

Words: 100

Chicago AU

Of course Lestat had killed the bitch! The man had lied, manipulated him. The sex was built on complete mistruth, not even a mistruth, an utter lack of truth. All he’d wanted was to be an actor… 

It was over and Magnus was dead. It didn’t matter. Even as Nicki came home, even as Lestat’s own lie crumpled around him, even as the cops clicked the handcuffs around his slender wrists, it didn’t matter. He’d never gotten what he wanted before Nicki, who had just betrayed him, so why would he expect different? It didn’t matter.

Nothing but a fool.

[beneathsilverstars]

huh, all this time i thought ann rice hating fanfiction was a homophobia thing, i didn't realize the vampires are actually explicitly canonically gay

[prouvaireafterdark]

god i keep having Practical Ethics prequel thoughts

[desertfangs]

Lestat/Daniel

"I had a dream last night, Daniel, and you just so happened to be in it," Lestat said.

This went to a predictably naughty place. I'm thinking about continuing this but I'd need to do so on AO3 with an explicit tag. If that's something anyone would like to see, let me know. Otherwise, I'm sure your imaginations are as good as Daniel's. ;)

“I had a dream last night, Daniel, and you just so happened to be in it,” Lestat said. 

Daniel opened one eye. Lestat was kneeling on the bed beside him in the place where Armand usually slept. He wore jeans and a t-shirt and his blond hair was flying loose around his tanned face. His blue-gray eyes looked down at him in a penetrating, intense way that made Daniel flush. He closed his eye and pressed his face deeper into the pillow. 

“Oh yeah, and what were we doing in this dream of yours?” 

Lestat grinned. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” 

Daniel shifted onto his back and glared up at him. “You’re the one who woke me up to give me this breaking news.” 

Daniel was held under by the sun longer than most of the others, with the exception of Louis, and he’d awoken to an empty bed, promptly drifting back into a mortal sleep when he did. Sometimes he liked to sleep an extra hour, particularly in Armand’s bed. He always bought the softest sheets. 

He sat up, the sheet falling from his chest, realizing as he did that he wasn’t wearing anything at all. Some nights he put on pajamas but last night he and Armand had… opted not to. He ran his fingers nervously through his ashen hair. 

Lestat gave an appreciative look to his bare chest. “I don’t know if I should say. It was quite… risqué.” 

Daniel rolled his eyes. Lestat was perched on the bed and Daniel was naked under a sheet. He could handle whatever Lestat dreamt about. “Try me.” 

Lestat’s eyebrows flew up. He leaned close so that Daniel could feel his breath on his neck and smell the spiciness of his cologne. “Is that an invitation?” 

Daniel swallowed, heat rising in his neck and cheeks. He hadn’t fed yet so there wasn’t much blood in him but even still the thought of Lestat’s fangs in his neck made him want to grab Lestat and wrestle him down against the mattress. Instead, Daniel pushed him back out of his personal bubble. 

“Just tell me.” 

Lestat beamed. “Well, were driving across the country. Your maker was there insisting we find a different car and then the tire blew out. So you had to fix it. You were the only one who knew how.” 

Daniel stared him. “Fascinating. You know Armand can change a tire. Can’t you?” 

Lestat waved a hand, signaling that it was unimportant. “The tire couldn’t be fixed so we found an abandoned farmhouse to stay at during the day. You insisted we needed to clean up, so you pulled me into the shower with you.” Lestat trailed a finger down Daniel’s chin, light and gentle, leaving a trail across his face. “The things I did to you against the tile.” 

Heat shot through Daniel and his mouth went dry. Lestat wasn’t even giving details but he could picture it well enough: his hands soaping up Lestat’s taught, tan body, Lestat pushing him against the cool tile as the water ran over them, Lestat’s lips on his throat. He thought of the oversized shower in the bathroom only feet away and all the things they could do in there. 

Lestat leaned back and then climbed off the bed, backing up as if he was going to head for the door. “Well, I just thought you should know.” 

Daniel threw a pillow at him. “You’re an asshole.” 

“Quite a thing to say when I just shared something so personal.” Lestat caught the pillow and set it neatly on the bed, which was more aggravating than just throwing it back. 

Daniel rolled his eyes again. Lestat headed for the door. “Where are you going? Aren’t Armand and Louis out at the opera?” That had been their plan, anyhow, which was why Daniel had opted to stay in bed for a bit. 

“As you may recall, I am the esteemed leader of our kind and I have business to attend to,” Lestat said, squaring his shoulders and looking down his nose at Daniel in the haughtiest manner he could manage. It might have been more chiding if it wasn’t so damn sexy. 

“Really, what business?” Daniel asked, scratching at his chin where his stubble used to grow. 

Lestat glared harder, folding his arms over his chest. “I’m sure there’s business. I just need to get back into my email. And call Marius.” 

Daniel snorted. Armand had taught Lestat how to keep his internet accounts secure by using obscenely long passwords. He’d done the same for Daniel when he’d moved back into Trinity Gate, making him change everything so a long string of nonsense. But Lestat had missed the lesson on how to use the password keeper, and thus was always getting locked out of his email. 

Daniel picked up his phone from the nightstand. “Tell you what. I’ll call Marius right now and tell him you’re taking the night off.”

Lestat’s face dropped. “You wouldn’t.” 

The truth was, Lestat had been blowing off work and ignoring Marius’ calls for the past three nights. Daniel knew because Marius kept calling and texting him instead, demanding he put Lestat on the phone. Lestat managed to mysteriously disappear whenever that happened.  

“Hey, I’m just trying to help out a friend.” Daniel smiled. “You’ve been working too hard. I should let him know you need a night to yourself.” 

Lestat pounced. Daniel didn’t expect it, but he should have. Living with Armand should have taught him better.

Lestat was on top of him in seconds, reaching for the phone. Daniel tried to keep it out of his reach but Lestat was fast and strong and soon he was straddling Daniel and pinning him to the mattress, the weight him hard and heavy. His fingers closed around Daniel’s and the phone and he plucked it out of his grasp. He held it aloft victoriously, laughing. 

Lestat shook with laughter on top of him and Daniel became keenly aware of how naked he was and how there was only a sheet between them. Lestat either heard his thoughts or realized the same thing because that winning grin of his spread across his face. He tossed Daniel’s phone behind him and it made a thunk when it landed somewhere on the carpet. 

Lestat’s fingers danced on the sheet over Daniel’s abdomen. His breath hitched. His cheeks burned. “I thought your maker bought everyone those designer pajamas from Italy.”

“Will you get off me?” Daniel demanded, trying to sound annoyed instead of desperate to have him to do the opposite. 

Lestat leaned down close to his face and stroked his cheek. Daniel sucked in a breath his dead lungs didn’t need. “I certainly could.” He bent down closer and put his lips right up to Daniel’s lips, so close he could feel them there, but stopped short of touching them to Daniel’s. A whine escaped Daniel’s lips, unbidden, and Lestat smiled, the movement brushing against him. 

Lestat’s tongue slid into his mouth, warm and tentative. Daniel kissed him back desperately, hands digging into his hair to pull him closer. Fangs nicked his tongue and electricity exploded in Daniel’s mouth, his vision going white as the little droplets of blood shot through him. When Lestat pulled back, he was panting and Daniel’s chest heaved as his dead heart pounded, veins tight with a lack of blood. 

Daniel threaded his fingers deeper in Lestat’s hair and pulled him back down, kissing him again. His tongue moved against Lestat’s with ferocious need. Lestat made a noise that was low and primal, his fingernails digging into Daniel’s shoulder until they pierced his skin. The pain jolted him, heightening the pleasure of their mouths moving together.

When they broke apart again, Lestat leaned back, a wicked gleam in his eye as he looked down at Daniel. “It just occurred to me that since we have the house to ourselves, you can make my dream come true.” 

Just occurred to him. Right.

Daniel smirked. “You want me to teach you how to change a flat tire?”

Lestat laughed. “Much as I’ve love to see you greasy and sweating with the effort, I think we can make better use of the shower, non?” 

Daniel’s pulse raced and he nodded. 

Lestat beamed. He climbed off the bed and disappeared into the bathroom. Daniel hesitated for a only moment, trying to calm his excitement, before he got up and followed him in. 

[hekateinhell]

"Flowers," Armand spoke for Lestat's benefit. "What better embodiment of our existence than the birth, bloom, and decay of flowers? Only in paradise do petals truly last forever." 

"Renewal," Daniel added quietly. "Just because the petals fall off doesn't mean the plant is dead, Armand. The flowers will bloom again and they'll be as beautiful the hundredth time as they were the first time. It's the circle of life, and we're part of it." 

"I suppose," Armand didn't argue, seemingly content to lose himself in the black curves and lines. His eyes focused and unblinking, tongue peeking out from between his lips in concentration. 

It’s a cluster of flowers... Honeysuckle, peach, and wisteria blossoms. A dahlia, a rose, a chrysanthemum, and a lily of the valley. 

Such familiar flowers! 

Beautifully laid out on Lestat's bronzed skin by Armand's masterful hand. How many of those flowers had Armand shown Daniel in the garden he'd created for him, the last thing he had ever shown him before the veil came down between them forever?

How could Daniel help but recall now what he'd said when he shared the story of himself and Armand with Lestat on Night Island in the aftermath of Akasha? In the language of an ancient people the word for flowers was the same as the word for blood.

Blood, same as that which Armand meticulously wiped off of Lestat's skin. The scent permeated the air, arousing to the senses even when diluted with ink.

[READ ON AO3]

[covenofthearticulate]

Fandom:Vampire Chronicles Series - Anne Rice Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Lestat de Lioncourt/Louis de Pointe du Lac Characters: Lestat de Lioncourt, Louis de Pointe du Lac Additional Tags: Overstimulation, Multiple Orgasms, Dom/sub, Domdrop, Subdrop, Aftercare

Summary: They had been warned about this sort of thing before.

Fareed had mentioned it, amongst many other things, during the first few treatment sessions. Something about adjusting to a new hormonal cycle. Chemicals in the brain. Neurotransmitters and such. All very scientific, this noble experiment of theirs. A simple matter of biology.

Louis had read about it, too, in those little yellow books back in San Francisco. He’d picked up on it from conversations between strangers dressed in leather, had even gathered the courage one evening to ask a young man more about this term— what it means, what it feels like, how does one recuperate from a…drop.

[askgametime]

❤️+💙 lestappen? ;)

sorry, friend, i don't answer ask prompts, i just post them!

[atomiccosmic]

man where are my loustat doujinshis huh

[prouvaireafterdark]

here's a sneak peek of a little something I'm working on for two of my enablers @bilestat and @claudiaapologist ❤️

***

When Armand sweeps into Dr. du Lac’s graduate level Ethics course on the second day of class, he finds his seat in the center of the small lecture hall’s first row already taken. 

The blonde man occupying it, Armand notices, is older than the average student, perhaps in his early thirties, and the desk he’s stolen is totally devoid of notes, books, or a laptop. Dressed in a designer leather jacket, tight black jeans and platformed Doc Martens, he looks like he’s attempting to channel his inner rock star. The man’s hair has also been pulled back into a low ponytail that would make anyone else look like a founding father, but in combination with his striking jawline and devastating profile, Armand finds it infuriatingly charming in spite of his considerable annoyance.

Armand had chosen this seat carefully, you see. Having just endured a harrowing semester as research assistant to Dr. de Romanus—a Romanist, coincidentally, who had weasled his way into the Religion and Philosophy department after the university defunded their Classics program—and currently staring down the barrel of another, he is keen on seizing any opportunity he can find to serve under someone with a less… draconian approach to pedagogy. Dr. du Lac seems a more promising prospect than the ancient Dr. Talbot by about a mile, and so the stakes for making a good impression are quite high. 

Armand’s eyes narrow as he approaches.

“Excuse me,” he says, standing up as tall and imperious as he can as he stops beside the blonde man. “You’re in my seat.”

“Am I?” the man asks, his English faintly accented. French, definitely, but not Parisian, if Armand recalls from his own considerable time spent abroad—a regional dialect, he would guess. The generous curve of the man’s mouth and the tilt of his head turn mean all of a sudden as he continues, “Apologies, monsieur. I did not see your name on it.” 

The man makes no move to find a different seat, and in fact settles more fully into it, his spine slumped casually against its cushioned back like he could drop off and take a nap at any moment.

Indignant rage simmers beneath the surface of Armand’s skin, mingled with the equally infuriating attraction he feels as an errant blonde curl comes loose from the man’s ponytail and falls over the curve of his cheek as his head tips drowsily forward.

Well, that decides it, Armand thinks to himself. I must destroy him.

[desertfangs]

Daniel/Lestat '"I'm not going to do it again, this isn't a peep show."

This one is long and a little melancholy. I think I'm in a mood, ha! But I hope you enjoy it even though it didn't get smutty (I was trying to go there but I keep getting derailed.)

“I’m not going to do it again, this isn’t a peep show,” Daniel said, tugging his sweatshirt down over the waistband of his jeans. 

“No?” Lestat leaned against the shelf below. Daniel glared from the ladder. He was trying to find the box they’d come for here in the archives of the Night Island cellar, and Lestat kept making lewd comments when his sweatshirt rode up and revealed his midsection. 

“We didn’t come all the way to Florida so you could stare at my stomach.” 

“Perhaps not, but there’s no sense in not enjoying the view.” Lestat smirked.

Daniel rolled his eyes, ignoring the flush that ran up his neck. “Do you want to see it or not?” 

“And if I say no? That I’ve changed my mind? Then what?”

“Then you can get off of my island,” Daniel said, moving the ladder to the next shelf over. 

Lestat dramatically clutched his heart, as if shocked by his harshness, and Daniel smiled.

He climbed up the ladder and found most of these boxes were labeled 83 and 84. That was the right time period, at least. He pulled one down and opened it. It was full of papers. Bills, mostly, long paid, with no reason to keep them. He dug through it vaguely out of curiosity but there wasn’t anything worth holding onto that he could see. He took the sharpie out of his pocket and wrote “Old Mail” on the side of the box. 

Armand was a pack-rat of the highest order, and he’d been worse in the early 80s, keeping everything no matter how unnecessary. One of these days, Daniel was going to drag Armand down here and get him to go through this place and throw out the junk.

“You’d be better off doing it alone,” Lestat said. He was studying his fingernails, his rings glinting on his pale fingers. “He won’t miss what you toss.”   

“That’s probably true.” Still, Daniel worried about throwing the wrong thing out and it coming back to bite him in a hundred years. Though what use Armand might possibly have for thirty-year-old utility bills was beyond him.

The next box was clothes. Old, ratty socks and underwear of Daniel’s, ones Armand had thrown out because they’d become too full of holes to be worth wearing. Or rather, Daniel had thought he’d thrown them out. Apparently he’d boxed them up and shoved them on a shelf down here in the storage rooms of the cellar. 

Daniel saw Lestat watching him in his periphery. He closed the box and slid it back into place. The next one was more junk: matchbooks pilfered from bars, random keys to god only knew what, spare buttons, a few coins, a pair of sunglasses with one of the lenses missing, and a pack of Big Red gum that would probably crumble to dust if opened. Junk drawer stuff, as if Armand had dumped the contents of the junk drawer of their last house into a box when they’ve moved into the Villa. Which, now that Daniel looked at it, he clearly had.

“You know, I find it’s easier to remove the garbage from Louis’ collections bit by bit,” Lestat mused.

Daniel glanced down at him. “How often does he notice something’s missing?” 

Lestat folded his arms over his chest. “More often than I’d like. He’s meticulous about his trash.” 

Daniel laughed. “Or maybe you guys have different definitions of what should be held onto.” Daniel looked into the box one more time, detritus from a lifetime ago, and closed it up. So it went, Daniel trying to notate the contents of each box to make a future clean out easier as he opened them and put them back. Lestat watched, not bothering to help—“You know your maker’s organizational system best”—and occasionally making a comment about Daniel’s ass as he climbed the ladder.

Finally, two shelves down, Daniel found the box. He was suddenly glad for Armand’s almost obsessive need to keep things. “Got it.” He climbed back down the ladder, box under his arm, and left the ladder where he’d set it up. “Come on.” 

Lestat followed him up out of the cellar and into the parlor. Daniel opened the French doors that lead to a veranda with a view of the ocean to let in some air and then took the box over to the coffee table.

Lestat bounded over with the enthusiasm of a puppy, eager and impatient. Daniel opened the box. He pulled out a stack of t-shirts and tossed one at Lestat’s head. Lestat laughed in surprise. It was tie-die, blue, purple and green. The stack had various experiments with colors, all mixed together in funky patterns. 

Lestat unfolded the shirt and held it up his chest, over the plain blue shirt he wore beneath his leather jacket. “What do you think?”

“It suits you,” Daniel said. He lifted stack of Polaroid photos from the box. Armand, his auburn hair short, wearing the very shirt Lestat was holding. He looked so blank as he stared at the camera. He did that sometimes when Daniel took photos of him, froze into this neutral statue of a thing. Lestat came and sat beside Daniel, the shirt in his lap. 

Danie flipped through the photos. Armand in a shirt that had not come out as well and was mostly blotches of color. Daniel in one of the shirts smiling awkwardly. Daniel with his back to the camera, standing on the veranda, a cigarette in his hand, wearing the orange-and-red tie-die shirt. 

Lestat took the one photo where Armand was laughing, Daniel having managed to catch him at the right moment, still in the blue-purple-green shirt, dye standing his pale white fingers as he held them up and laughed.

Daniel’s heart squeezed. Those were the photos Daniel loved, the ones where Armand was natural and himself, how he’d been so much of the time. 

“I suppose I owe you ten dollars,” Lestat said. 

They’d been watching some TV special about the 70s and the tie-dye trend, and Daniel had bet that there were photos of Armand in a tie-dye shirt. Lestat hadn’t believed it. 

“This was 83,” Daniel said. “Armand found the tie-dye kit somewhere, I don’t even remember. I only remember we spent like half the week making shirts.” 

He dug into the box, pulling out even more shirts, some better than others, all arrays of colors and designs. They’d had to knot up the t-shirts in different ways to get different patterns on them. It had been a meticulous process. 

At the bottom of the box was a VHS tape. Daniel frowned. On the side it was labeled “Tie-dye, 83.” Daniel vaguely remembered Armand filming with his camcorder but he did that all the time back then, filming random bits and pieces of their lives.

Lestat snatched the tape and examined it “Is this some display of your passions inflamed by tie-dye?” 

Daniel snorted. “Yeah, totally, a tie-dye sex tape.” Although Daniel couldn’t remember what was on it. Sometimes there were little snippets of intimacy in their home videos. Most of them were unedited, just snippets of things Armand decided to film. 

“Well if there’s video evidence of him wearing these hideous clothes, that’s worth quite a bit more than ten dollars.” Lestat grinned at him. 

Daniel rolled his eyes. “He’s going to murder me,” he muttered. “Come on, I think there’s still a VCR in the den.” 

The den was on the second floor, a smaller room as far as rooms in the Villa went, but sure enough, it still had a VCR and an old television. Everything in the room was covered in plastic and Daniel removed it before sliding the tape into the player. He and Lestat settled on the couch. Daniel hit play. 

On the tape, they were on the veranda downstairs, the doors open. They had big plastic tubs arranged outside for making the shirts in and Daniel was squirting dye into one of them. Daniel watched as on the video, he dropped a t-shirt into the tub and swirled it around in the dyed water. His hand came up stained orange and pink. The tape cut and it was Armand fishing wet, freshly dyed shirts from the tubs. Then another shot of Armand wearing the shirts, telling Daniel to hold the camera steady. Daniel laughing from behind the lens. 

Another cut. Daniel was frowning at the camera, smoking a cigarette. He wore the orange and yellow tie dye shirt, his blond hair messy, circles beneath his eyes visible even under his glasses. “Put on the the purple one,” Armand said from behind the camera. “It matches your eyes.” 

Danie glared at the camera. “Let me finish my cigarette.” 

“I’ll hold your cigarette,” Armand offered. The camera moved closer.

 “Jesus Christ, Armand, we’ve been doing this for three days, can you just give it a rest?” His tone was harsh, his words slightly slurred. The tape was grainy but Daniel could see how his hand was shaking and the exhaustion on his own face. 

“Of course,” came Armand’s reply, his voiceless toneless in a way that indicated he was hurt. 

On the couch, Daniel winced. But on the tape, it only irritated past Daniel further.

“You know, it’s easy enough for you to waste a week with this crap, but how many weeks do I have left? You fill our nights with this nonsense like I’m going to forget that my life is slipping out from under me and every day I get older and closer to death.” 

Heavy sigh. “Don’t be dramatic, Daniel. You’re still young.” 

“For now.” Daniel flicked his cigarette into one of the dye tubs and stormed past the camera, which lingered for a second on the empty space where Daniel had been before turning off.

Daniel’s stomach roiled. Lestat reached over and squeezed his hand, warm and reassuring. Daniel’s throat felt tight. “Sorry you had to see that.” 

Lestat scooted closer, putting his arm around Daniel’s shoulders. “C’est rien. I’m grateful none of my fights with Louis are on film. I don’t think I’d enjoy that either.” 

Daniel sucked in a shuddering breath. “We fought a lot back then. I was at my wit’s end, haunted by the specter of aging and death, and he was so damned determined that things could just keep going how they were.” Daniel shook his head. He didn’t even remember this particular fight but there had been so many like it that all blurred together, Daniel desperate to make Armand see that he should turn him or at the very least, that he was in pain, while Armand tried to pretend there wasn’t a problem. “God, I was such an asshole.” 

Lestat laughed. Daniel looked at him, surprised.

“Danny, my boy, you were in a hard situation and faced with the little imp’s stubbornness. You handled it better than most.” 

Daniel sighed. “Yeah, maybe. I just wish…” He shook his head. He wished he’d done a lot of things differently.

“We all have regrets,” Lestat said, his voice low and soft, as if thinking of a few of his own. “The key is not to dwell them on. And look, here you are! And now we have photographic evidence of Armand in the most hideous t-shirts known to man.” 

Daniel laughed at that. Lestat smoothed his hair and kissed his temple before standing. “Come, let’s get back to New York. I want to lord those photographs over Armand’s head.” 

Daniel smiled and stood. “Oh yeah, he’s definitely going to kill me.” 

[hekateinhell]

#VCKinkWeek, Day 5: Play Party

I was scrolling through my ao3 to see if I had any older stuff to repromote that might fit today's theme of "voyeurism, exhibitionism, threesomes, and orgies" and it looks like I do — for each one of those! (Shocking, right?)

Human AUs

🖤 I Feel You - Armand/Lestat/Louis/Daniel | E | 2.8k

Trans!Armand just wants to be loved by all of his boyfriends on his birthday, at any cost.

[READ ON AO3]

♥️ Exposed - Lestat/Armand/Louis | E | 5k

Teenage delinquents Lestat and Armand are dating Louis together while navigating their own situationship.

[READ ON AO3]

🖤 After Party - Lestat/Armand/Daniel | E | 1.2k

Armand overdoes it after a wild night out with Daniel and Lestat, and he needs just a bit of help to settle down.

[READ ON AO3]

Canon Compliant

♥️ The Language of Flowers - Lestat/Armand/Daniel | E | 9k

Lestat pays a visit to Trinity Gate where Armand has something interesting planned for him. Daniel gets to indulge his voyeuristic side when he gets a front row seat to the entire show.

[READ ON AO3]