#louis reaching out to touch lestat's face and lestat letting himself be pulled in and kissed and kissing back

[valarinde]

episode one / episode three

[that-of-the-devil]

Rainy Day: Part 1

Lestat x Louis x Reader smut

About: Reader works as a familiar for Louis and Lestat, they go out for a walk and end up getting drenched in the rain. They realise that the house is closer than their apartment so they stop there and find Lestat who just has to take care of them. Louis walks in on the pair of them.

Warnings/Contains: degrading, belittling, fingering, voyeurism

Reader: gender neutral reader who was afab

-

You wrapped your coat around you and lowered your head as the rain picked up, mentally cursing yourself for leaving your umbrella behind. Your boots splashed in the pools of rainwater as you rushed back to the townhouse, your clothes already soaking wet. You fumbled with the door, sighing as the key got stuck, before finally shoving it open with a grunt. You were met with a surprised Lestat, who was eyeing you up from behind the piano he was playing merely moments ago.

“Hi...I came out for a walk and didn’t realise it would be raining and here was closer than my apartment.” You said with a playful yet exhausted tone.

“You didn’t think to bring an umbrella? That was silly.” He teased, a playful glint in his eye.

“Mm, I know.” You sighed and rolled your eyes light-heartedly.

You peeled your coat off, shivering at the sensation, and hung it up to dry, not noticing that Lestat had snuck up on you. He gave you a sincere look as he eyed you over, cupping your cheeks and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Poor thing, you’re soaked through.” He cooed at you, already reaching for your buttons.

You felt warmth return to your body as he quickly and easily unbuttoned your waistcoat, a blessing and a curse that he could get you so worked up. He moved behind you, pulling the waistcoat off before leaning in, pressing his chest to your back as he studied your expression.

“You’re freezing.” He hummed, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Thank you for that observation.” You teased, giving him a soft smile as you leaned into the touch.

“We’ll have to fix that.” He cooed, peppering kisses over your neck and jaw.

You placed your hands over his, yearning for body heat that he could not provide. He pressed his nose into your neck, enjoying your scent for a moment before letting go of you. You flashed him a disappointed look, enjoying the contact even if it didn’t make you any warmer.

“Come, let’s get these off of you.” He took your hand and led you upstairs.

He ran you a bath and took his sweet time undressing you, pressing kisses on practically every inch of your body, as if touching you would bring back your warmth…and in a way, it did. Only a few minutes had passed and you were flustered and giddy, watching as he placed your clothes into the wash basket.

“I think I could’ve managed that myself.” You said playfully.

“But how awful would I be if I didn’t take care of you, hm?” He cooed, cupping your face as he looked down at you.

You let out a content sound, shutting your eyes as he leaned forward and kissed you. You hummed against his lips, your fingers wandering up to cup his jaw.

“Poor love, maybe I just won’t let you outside anymore.” He teased before letting go of you.

“Asking me to move in?” You grinned as you stepped into the bath, sinking down into the warm water with a relieved hum.

He started undressing himself, your eyes meeting as you relaxed in the water. You were giddy at the thought of sharing a bath with him, and of course he could tell.

“Wouldn’t be so bad would it?” He hummed. “Keeping you here just for me and Louis?”

You sighed softly, at the feeling of the water, at the sound of his voice, at the idea of staying with the pair of them.

“I can definitely imagine worse things.” You spoke softly, your words sounding needier than you had intended.

“Hmph.” Lestat smirked before approaching the side of the bath. “Feeling any better?”

“A little.” You tilted your head with a sly smile, knowing you could get more if you played it up.

“Such a delicate thing, aren’t you?” He cooed as he sunk down at the opposite end of the bath, your legs tangling together.

“In comparison to you, yes.” You smiled, desperate to be closer to him already.

He was in your thoughts, under your skin, listening in to your fantasies. You locked eyes for a moment and you could tell he was reading you, it both excited you and put you on edge. He smirked as he spoke to you without even parting his lips, effortlessly beckoning you closer.

“Thought you’d never ask.” You said softly as you moved over to sit in his lap.

“You could’ve asked.” He teased, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Mm but I like hearing it from you.” You sighed, making it clear that you enjoyed having him in your head, taking control of whatever you wanted or needed.

“Can’t bear to do anything yourself, can you?” He tutted. “Need me to look after you, don’t you?”

“Mm.” You nodded. “Yes.”

Moments passed as you relaxed against once another, your hands gently exploring each others bodies as you silently riled one another up.

“Where is Louis?” You whispered, glancing up at Lestat with a curious expression.

“Some business meeting..I didn’t have the energy for it today.” He huffed, clearly irritated that Louis hadn’t stayed to entertain him.

“Lucky I came and saved you from your loneliness then, hm?” You teased.

“Oh, so very lucky.” He whispered, playing into it as he kissed your neck.

You tilted your head, baring more skin to him as you relished in the sensation. You were silently begging him for more, tempting him to take a bite.

“I’m meant to be taking care of you, sweet thing.” He hummed. “As much as I find you irresistible..”

“Mm I suppose so.” You huffed playfully.

“Let me take care of you.” He whispered, his fingers lingering over your thighs.

“I’ll never say no to that..” You sighed contentedly, resting your head against him.

Lestat hummed softly in response as his fingers danced over and up your thighs before brushing over your clit. Your hips involuntarily shifted forwards to meet his fingertips, your lips parting as he gently circled the sensitive nerve. You buried your head into his neck, relaxing against him as he coaxed quiet moans from your lips. He peered down at you, his eyes practically glowing with desire.

“Is that better, little love?” He whispered, his tone making butterflies flutter in your stomach.

“Mm much better.” You spoke breathily, worked up over the simplest of touches.

He smiled at your words before trailing his fingers over your entrance, toying with your arousal before slipping two fingers in. You gasped at the sensation, toes curling as he immediately began to move. He chuckled at your reaction, his fingers finding your sweet spot with ease.

“So good for me..I could do anything and you’d just take it.” He hummed, filling your mind with images of him taking you in any way he wanted.

A knot began to form in your stomach, the mental image of him fucking you only fuelled your desire and tipped you towards to the edge.

“Fuck….yes.” You sighed. “I’m yours.”

“Mm I know.” He whispered with a smug tone.

He looked up, noticing Louis who was leaning against the doorway, watching the pair of you with a soft smirk. He was already hard just from the sight of you both, desperate to join you. He decided against it, not wanting to disturb you, and watched instead. His eyes fixated on the way your hand wrapped around Lestat’s wrist, keeping him in place as you got closer.

“I’m not going anywhere my love.” He cooed, sharing a content look with Louis.

You merely moaned in response, lost in the pleasure and his voice in your head. He trailed his thumb over your clit, brushing over the nerve as he repeatedly hit your sweet spot, his well practiced fingers knowing just what to do to push you over the edge. Your hips bucked forwards as you finally let go, waves of pleasure rippling through your body as he coaxed you through your orgasm. You let out a string of breathy moans, your eyebrows furrowing with pleasure before you started to come down.

“That’s it..” He hummed, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

Louis could hardly contain himself, the sight of you making him desperate and needy. He was palming himself, almost jealous of the pair of you with how worked up he had gotten.

You panted softly, opening your eyes to meet Lestat’s before noticing the figure in the doorway. Your cheeks flushed as you looked at Louis, feeling another wave of arousal as you noticed how hard he was.

“They were caught in the rain, I just had to take care of them mon cher.” Lestat teased.

“Mhm, you feeling better now?” Louis asked, his eyebrow raised as he eyed you over.

“Mm almost.” You bit your lip, subtly looking him up and down.

“Almost? You’re getting greedy.” Louis hummed. “You’re lucky I can’t say no to those faces.”

[bezebo]

Sticker bite.

It all started when Lestat excitedly dragged Louis to a new sticker shop he’d discovered near his penthouse in New York. "Look! Louis, they even draw me!" Lestat grinned, showcasing a set of collectible stickers of himself and his bandmates. "You can change their outfits too! Which one do you think I should wear?" He dress up mini version of him with knitted orange top "Ah, orange is not really my color."

Lately, Lestat had become obsessed with fanmade merch. The more creative, the better. Maybe he was tired of his usual gifts—underwear, bras, from his groupie. Louis, standing quietly beside him, watched with a fond smile. He loved seeing Lestat like this, animated and passionate. There was something so innocent and human about him when he talked about things he enjoyed—just like that time at the opera.

"Oh Louis! Let's look for yours as well!" Lestat shouted it out loud while eagerly dragging Louis around the shop like an excited puppy. His eyes sparkled with excitement as he darted between the shelves until, suddenly, he stopped. "Ah! Voilà!" He grabbed a sticker sheet triumphantly, holding it up for Louis to see. It was a mini version of Louis, tears streaming down in an exaggerated display of misery. "Uncanny, don't you think?" Lestat quipped, flashing the sheet next to Louis's own grumpy expression. The contrast was too much for Lestat to bear, then Lestat burst into laughter.

Oh how can Louis even describe it? It was pure and genuine, filling the air. It was the most joyful sound Louis had heard from Lestat in decades, his bright laughter lighting up the afternoon like a forgotten memory of happiness.

Louis couldn’t help but give Lestat a warm smile.

Beautiful. Louis thought.

Lestat adored Louis’s rare smile, a quiet warmth that made the world feel right, if only for a moment. When Louis smiled, it was as if everything else disappeared, leaving just the two of them.

Realizing he’d been staring too long, Lestat’s heart fluttered, a softness overtaking him. Embarrassed, he quickly looked away, trying to hide the flush of affection cause after all they are just "friend" (well for now anyway)

Before Louis realized what he was doing, his hand reached up, his fingers gently cupping Lestat's cheek. It was as though his body had moved on its own, driven by some deep instinct. For a moment, Lestat froze, his eyes wide. Louis's hand slid down to his neck, pulling him closer, and in one swift movement, Louis bit his cheek—softly, almost playfully—before placing a lingering kiss on the spot.

Lestat’s whole body went rigid. His hand slowly reached up to touch the spot where Louis had left his mark, his eyes fixed on Louis. His face flushed red, a rare and startling color for him.

"Mon cher..."

Louis goes in for another.

[prouvaireafterdark]

Original Sin

This is my (nsfw) Loustat fill for the Kinktober Day 2 Prompt: Masturbation

@vampirefest

Also on AO3!

When Lestat comes to join him on the couch, Louis knows he’s up to no good.

“What are you reading, mon cher?” he asks, leaning heavily against his side, an arm thrown over the back of the couch.

“Nothing you’d care for,” Louis answers, turning a page as he steadfastly ignores the way Lestat’s fingertips tickle the skin above his collar. 

Lestat leans closer to take a peek and scoffs as he reads the title.

“The Book of Genesis, I see,” he drawls disappointedly. “Has Eve been unjustly blamed for all Man’s troubles yet or are she and Adam still blissfully ignorant?”

“They’ve long since left Eden,” Louis answers him.

“Hmm,” Lestat hums. “Perhaps I could tempt you to join me upstairs then, now that the best part is over.” 

Louis pulls a face at that. Lestat’s terrible line about temptation aside, there’s much more to Genesis than just the story of Adam and Eve.

Just as he’s about to say so, he feels Lestat’s hand on his thigh.

“Come now, Louis,” he coaxes him, his hand slowly creeping upward. “Let me show you how much I’ve missed you.”

“Not now, Les,” Louis tells him, his own hand covering Lestat’s wrist to stop him.

Lestat huffs, but withdraws his hand. 

“‘Not now,’ he says, for the seventh night in a row,” Lestat complains. “If not now, when, Louis?”

“I’m just—“ he begins, but Lestat interrupts him.

“Not in the mood, I know,” he finishes a little bitterly as he stands from his seat. “Well, if you change your mind, I’ll be amusing myself in our bedroom.”

Lestat turns on the spot and marches up the stairs, not bothering to hide his frustration. 

Louis sighs once he’s no longer in view. A part of him feels guilty about disappointing Lestat, about not being able to satisfy him the way he used to, but he just… he can’t kill anymore. He won’t. And if that means his libido suffers, so be it. It’s the least that he deserves.

He returns to his book, determined to put their encounter out of his mind, but he finds he cannot do that either.

Through the floorboards, he can hear the rustle of fabric upstairs as Lestat undresses and climbs into bed. He can hear the glass jar of oil they keep by the bed clink against the rings on Lestat’s fingers as he spills the thick liquid onto his fingers. He can hear the sigh Lestat makes as he takes himself in hand, the slick sound of the oil on his skin as he starts to touch himself.

“Louis,” Lestat whines a moment later, and though it cannot have been all that much louder than a whisper, Louis hears it as if Lestat’s mouth is pressed directly to his ear. “Oui, chéri, just like that.”

Louis feels hot under the collar suddenly. He tries not to, but he hangs on every sound that passes Lestat’s lips, every sigh and exaggerated moan of pleasure as he works himself over. He does it slowly at first, drawing it out, teasing himself, before gradually he begins to go faster and faster until he’s calling Louis’ name and begging for more. 

Nearly ten minutes go by before Louis realizes he hasn’t read a single word. 

He slams the book shut and sets it on the couch. He takes the stairs two at a time, reaching the landing in the blink of an eye. When he steps over the threshold of their bedroom, he sees Lestat naked and spread out on their blue silk sheets, his pale skin almost luminous in the lamplight. The thick, swollen head of his cock glistens where it peeks above his fist, wet with oil and precome, and it’s only by the iron force of Louis’ will that he manages to fight the sudden urge to lick his lips and crawl to Lestat on his knees. 

“Can I help you, chéri?” Lestat asks him, sounding out of breath. He doesn’t cease the movements of his hand over his own cock for even a moment, twisting his wrist on every stroke. “I am a little busy at the moment.”

Louis crosses his arms over his chest as he glares at him, but it does nothing to wipe the smug grin off Lestat’s face. 

“Don’t you have any shame?” Louis asks him.

Lestat laughs at that, a jarringly loud cackle he directs to the ceiling. 

“For what?” he turns to ask him, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Enjoying my body? Imagining my husband’s hands on me? Yes, Louis, call me a priest so I can confess my wretched sins before he dies.”

Louis looks away from him, drawing his arms tighter across his chest. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Lestat rise to face him on his knees so fluidly it’s as if he’s been pulled by a puppet’s strings. When he looks back, he sees the full expanse of Lestat’s muscled chest, covered in a fine sheen of sweat, and his fangs peeking out behind his smile. 

Though he has no need of air, Louis’ breathing comes a little quicker.

“Or should I confess my sins to you, Saint Louis?” Lestat asks him, his pupils swollen once more with lust. “Shall I tell you how I want you? How I love you? The terrible things I’d do to keep you?”

“Lestat,” Louis says, his voice rough. 

He feels as if he’s been hypnotized with want, his dormant need awakening for the first time in over a week. If he didn’t know better, he’d think Lestat had worked a spell over him with his blaspheming lips, but Louis knows… he knows deep down that this is his own sin. His own weakness. Sooner or later, he always gives in.

Louis licks his lips and Lestat knows he’s won.

“Oh, Louis,” he purrs, a triumphant smile on his beautiful face. “Viens à moi.”

[wormtitty]

Kinktober Day 5: threesome (lestat/daniel/louis)

on AO3 here.

Lestat’s lounging sideways in an elaborate chair, brought in from Egypt, of all places. His over the top jacket is draped over the back of it, abandoned there from when he’d gotten pissed with the feathers flying off of it every time he waved his arms. They finished the shoot for the night nearly an hour ago. 

Louis is in the next room chatting with one of the producers, so Lestat’s in no rush to get out of the studio. He catches Daniel following the sound of Louis’ voice. 

“Such attachment to the one who nearly took your life, why is that?” Lestat sits up in his chair, all attention on him now. 

“You know our story; yeah, he’s not my vampire maker, but he’s the vamp that stepped up.” 

Lestat rolls his eyes. “Yes, but why return to him after that first encounter?”

“I’m a journalist. You know that. And a damned good one - I’ll follow the story until the end, even if it kills me. And guess what? It did.” Daniel collects the pens scattered on the little table on his side of the room. 

“You were… only twenty years old when you met. That’s a long time to let an unfinished story fester.”

“Quit reading my mind. We’ve discussed this - I’ll tell you whatever you wanna know.” Lestat scoffs. “But yeah, yeah, I’m an old man now. He didn’t really want me back then, not in the way I always thought. So this isn’t when I wanted to be turned, but here we are. Sorry, but you’re stuck with me as I am now.” 

“Oh, Daniel, you must know by now that my interest does not discriminate by age.” 

Daniel stops packing his bag abruptly, notebook frozen in his grasp. Lestat cackles. He can feel the phantom touch of another mind brushing his own again. 

“Oh! And Louis has propositioned you recently, I see.” He squints, frowning a little in confusion. “But you did not…”

Of course Louis chooses that moment to walk through the door, quietly announcing that the rest of the film crew had gone home for the day. He pauses halfway across the room, taking in the scene before him: Daniel, hunched over and unmoving, staring at Lestat, gleaming with mirth. 

“What’d I miss?”

Lestat slowly raises himself from his chair, languid limbs carrying him effortlessly over to Daniel. “Daniel here was just telling me all about your previous encounters.” He reaches out with both hands, straightening him and gripping his chin to turn Daniel’s face to Louis. “How desperately he wanted you, Louis!” He laughs at Louis’ raised eyebrows.

This snaps Daniel out of it, shaking free of Lestat’s grasp.

“Enough of that, thanks so much,” he bites, “It wasn’t a real offer, of course.” Daniel looks to Louis, searching his face for confirmation.

Louis considers this. Then, “I wouldn’t say it wasn’t a real offer, Daniel. An intentionally inconvenient one, yes. And there’s the fact that there’d be no hiding it from Armand.” 

“Ah, the gremlin. Yes, he would have thrown quite the tantrum had he found the two of you together. I,” Lestat looks to Louis meaningfully, “would never.”

Daniel barks out a laugh, startling them both. “You kinda did, though, Lestat. You absolutely have retaliated against paramours; don’t forget I interviewed Louis first.” 

Lestat sniffs, says “I am different now, a changed man. And I like you, Daniel.”

While Daniel sputters, Louis wraps an arm around his shoulders, leaning in close, “You hear that? He likes you.” 

He shoves Louis off and rolls his eyes. “Alright, alright. We finished here, or what? Because we’re about three hours from sun-up and I still need a meal before dawn breaks and puts me to sleep.”

“Tch. Such a voracious young thing.” Lestat scoffs, circling him. Daniel is reminded of a lioness about to pounce. “We have plenty of locally sourced blood in the commissary, fledgling. Or,” he pulls Louis to his side, locking eyes with him, “there are two vampires willing to share with you.”

Daniel turns to Louis. “Yeah?” The look in his eyes is all the confirmation he needs.

So that’s how he ends up with Louis’ wrist in his mouth, skin soft and warm between his teeth, blood flowing like syrup down his throat. Lestat’s at his back, petting soothingly through his hair and murmuring in his ear, “Yes, this is how it is between vampires, Daniel. What does he taste like to you?” 

Daniel forces his jaw to go slack, lets Louis take his arm back. He doesn’t go far, stays within an arm’s reach of the two of them. “I can…” It’s a rare occurrence for him to be rendered at a loss for words. It’s not like this is the first time Daniel’s consumed vampire blood, but he was kind of delirious with blood loss the last time it happened. He takes his time pulling his thoughts together. “I can feel him. Is it always like that?” 

He turns to Lestat now, eyes wide and face flushed with blood. His lukewarm hand feels like an icy balm where it cups his cheek. 

“There is a strong connection between you two. Nothing like the maker and fledgling bond, I’m sorry,” Lestat guides him to his own neck now, fingers curling in Daniel’s hair as he sinks his fangs into him. Blood surges from his jugular, vigorous and potent in his mouth. 

Without a doubt, there’s a deep power in Lestat’s blood. Daniel feels giddy and lightheaded as he swallows it down. He only takes a few mouthfuls before Louis tugs him back with a gentle hand on his shoulder. 

“That’s enough, Danny. Don’t gorge yourself,” he says, soft. 

“Well?” Lestat asks. There’s the slightest catch in his breath.

“He tastes like you.” Louis sucks in a sharp gasp behind him, crowding in closer, the long line of his body a firm pressure at Daniel’s back. 

Lestat hums in affirmation. “My blood is his blood,” he dips his head to the crook of Daniel’s neck, inhaling deeply. “And now it runs through you.” 

Daniel’s more than a little overwhelmed, if he’s being honest. Two hot and incredibly powerful vampires bracket his body like parentheses, their blood bubbling through his veins, filling him from the depth of his insides. He might vibrate out of his skin. 

“I’d offer a taste, but that kind of defeats the purpose of feeding me in the first place.” He manages to pull together a coherent sentence. Louis chuckles, close and breathy in his ear. It sends a shudder down his spine. 

He’s using all his energy to maintain control of his body, eyes closed against the onslaught of sensations rushing through him. He misses the shuffle before him, gets shocked out of it when a forehead rests against his own. Daniel opens his eyes to Lestat’s half-lidded gaze, the blue of his irises almost entirely swallowed by the black holes of his pupils. His lips are parted, wet and a little swollen from where he must have bitten them. 

Huh. He doesn’t get a chance to think much else before Lestat drives forward, kissing him open-mouthed and messy. All conscious thought leaves Daniel then, meeting his ferocity in equal measure. He shoves his tongue in his mouth, feeling out the shapes of his teeth, his fangs. Lestat sucks on his lip, and it hits him then; he’s chasing the taste of himself, of Louis, in Daniel’s mouth. 

“More than one way to get a taste,” Louis is saying, and it’s not coming from behind him like he’d expected. Daniel follows the sound of his voice down to where he’s - Jesus Christ - Louis is  kneeling on the fucking floor. 

Fuck. Arousal cuts through him like a hot knife. Now that he thinks about it, his jeans are starting to get pretty uncomfortable. All that blood he just drank is probably all in his dick, now. 

Louis deft fingers unfasten his pants, pulling him free. Neither Daniel nor Lestat can take their eyes off of him. He spits right on the head and spreads his saliva with both hands, getting it nice and slick. It’s the dirtiest handjob he’s gotten in years. It’s fucking perfect. 

Lestat’s right there, so close that he can feel it when he darts his tongue out to lick his lips. Daniel surges forward into his mouth again in a bruising kiss. He can’t keep his fangs to himself, he’s beyond the effort it’d take to keep them in his gums, but Lestat doesn’t seem to mind, licking into his mouth noisily. 

“Hnhh,” he keens, weak in the knees as Louis licks a long, fat stripe up the underside of his dick. 

“Such a treat, Daniel. Louis is terribly good with his mouth.” Lestat purrs into his ear, stroking the sides of his neck. Daniel makes another unintelligible sound. “You’ve rendered him speechless, mon cher.” Louis grips Lestat’s thigh in recognition of the praise, too preoccupied with the dick in his mouth to do much else. 

Lestat noses down his neck, moving Daniel’s head whichever way he prefers, molding him into position like he’s putty in his hands. And right now? Daniel would do whatever he wanted just to stay caught between them like this forever.  

Blunt teeth scrape at his skin, teasing little bites that do nothing more than make him burn with desire. “Les - hah - Lestat,” he pants, overcome. “Bite me, god, someone bite me, please.” 

“Oh, but Daniel, you’ve just fed. We wouldn’t want that to go to waste.” Lestat nips at his ear, still without fangs. He laughs breathily when Daniel whines. He’d be embarrassed if he had even half a mind to think objectively about this whole experience. As it is, his brain is purely focused on the pound of blood throbbing through his entire being. He feels like he’s one pulsing mess of blood and desire. 

He claims Lestat’s mouth again, needing something to do with his lips other than beg to be bitten. His head is spinning with how damn good it is. He’d said Louis was great with his mouth; but nothing about how talented he is with his own tongue. He’s hit with a wave of understanding. This is why Louis kept coming back. 

Daniel grips him tight to his body, sliding one hand under his shirt, the other wiggling down the back of his leather pants. He’s licking incessantly into him, getting spit everywhere, their lips sliding together hot and slick. His composure finally broken, Lestat whines into his mouth, rutting into his hip. 

Even through the layers of clothing, he can feel the hard length of him. Damn. Daniel spurs him on with the hand on his ass, encouraging him to rock forward in a dirty grind. Lestat pulls away from his mouth with a frustrated sound, a string of saliva connecting their lips. They all watch it snap. 

Louis hums, the vibration sending shockwaves of pleasure zinging up his spine. He slides off Daniel’s dick, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. It comes away wet, tinged with pink. “Feeling a little left out, Les?” 

He keeps one hand on Daniel as the three of them work to get Lestat’s pants low enough to free his cock. Daniel barely gets a glimpse of the blood-fat length of him before Louis wraps his other hand around it, still wet with the slick from Daniel’s own dick. 

“Ffffuck, you’re so -” is all he can say, collapsing into Lestat as Louis jerks them in tandem.   

Daniel’s orgasm builds in him fast and hot, fucking into Louis’ fist arrhythmically. Shattered-sounding moans escape him until the wave crests and he comes with a long, drawn out groan. He pants into Lestat’s mouth as it reverberates through him, hips working mindlessly. He looks down. Louis’ got Lestat’s cock in his mouth, eyes closed and Daniel’s blood-red spunk sliding down his cheek. Fuck.When Lestat comes, he bites down on Daniel’s lip. Hard.

[allegra-writes]

"And They Were Roommates" Part III

Armand x Daniel Molloy; Louis x Lestat

General Audiences

Warnings: General horniness, Daniel discovering the blue and pink light of bisexuality, graphic karaoke action, Lestat not beating the allegations of nepo baby-ism, Lestat probably singing about himself, cheesy 80s songs.

Another chapter by the incredible @faerywhimsy so please don't doubt about showing her some well deserved love.

Chapter 3: Karaoke Night

This wasn't the first time Daniel had hung out with Louis and Lestat. Hell, they'd been over at his place just the other night. He knew—and liked—Armand's friends plenty. Lestat was an utter riot. He was so over the top that it had made Alice's ultimatum look mild in comparison. Okay, no, that was still too soon. Louis, though, was quieter as well as the warmer of the two. Armand had made it pretty clear Louis had flirted with him once, when they'd first met, though Daniel hadn't registered it at the time.

"Do I need to be worried, now, that you and Louis are still such good friends?" Daniel had only thought to ask of Armand after the long, loooong make out session and more that had happened after Alice left him.

Thought hadn't been super high on Daniel's priority list before that. Learning the way Armand felt underneath his hands when it wasn't just a casual embrace, or leaning each other for movie night, that had been the most important thing. Licking his way clear along Armand's clavicle, which had been somehow driving Daniel's subconscious wild for at least a month, that had been a more important thing.

From the moment Armand had stalked across their living room and grabbed him by the collar of his polo, a lot of things from the past couple of weeks had suddenly become abundantly, inescapably clear.

For all that, Daniel didn't wanna be stepping on any other guy's toes, just because he didn't really get being bisexual yet. It... hadn't really felt good to him when Alice's voice had reached that pitch and she'd demanded of him something he hadn't been able to give. Armand was still his best friend. The absolute last thing Daniel wanted was to put Armand into any kind of situation like the one he'd just been in. The one Armand had basically stepped up and protected him from.

Armand, in response, had just given him and his question a cool, distant look.

Which prompted Daniel to say more words. "Look, I don't... I just don't wanna make you have to choose between us. Him or me, kinda like..."

Armand had only stepped forward then to press a finger against Daniel's lips. A finger he'd then replaced with his mouth.

Only when Armand was good and done with kissing him did Armand pull away. Daniel was in a daze. How long, he wondered, was it gonna be until his best friend-turned-best kisser in the actual world stopped pulling the carpet straight out from under him every time they touched?

What were movie nights on the couch even gonna feel like now?

"You don't need to worry about Louis," Armand had said, bringing Daniel's thoughts back to the present.

"Good." Daniel gave a little chuckle, even as he'd rubbed a hand over the back of his neck self consciously. "Cause I think Lestat is probably the jealous type."

There was a look on Armand's face then that Daniel didn't even begin to know how to read, let alone ask about.

Karaoke night. Daniel arrived with Armand, getting there later than Louis and Lestat who were already in the usual booth. It was a private booth with a pole near the edge of the stage, one of those spinny ones Daniel didn't have the least inclination or awareness on how to use. He was there to sing, not make an utter tit of himself by trying and failing to defy gravity.

He had seen Lestat eying it up a few times. That had been what might have inspired him to start a bit of a running bet with Louis as to how many weeks it would take before Lestat could be seen swinging around that pole. If it was tonight, it would sure take the sudden hyperfocus off Daniel and Armand's new relationship status.

Boyfriends. More than roommates. Daniel had never had a boyfriend before. Just the other day, he still thought he was straight.

Tonight, Armand had a proprietary arm draped over Daniel's shoulders in a flagrant sign of ownership. He'd been a little bit this way the night Louis and Lestat had come around to their place, but Daniel had mistakenly thought that demonstration had probably been just because it was still only so new. This was the first time they'd gone out together like this, and Daniel wasn't quite sure he would have been so comfortable with Armand's continuing outward display of physical affection if they'd been coming out tonight to see anyone other than Louis and Lestat.

"Hey guys." Daniel gave a wave because his hand was free, even if the movement of it was just a little curbed by the heaviness of Armand's arm. He was gonna play this cool. Totally cool.

Lestat was already looking over song choices, but Louis looked up to greet them from the booth and a ready jug of beer surrounded by four glasses. His smile was warm as he met first Armand's eyes, then Daniel's. Again, Daniel kinda wondered whether he had anything to worry about there. But Armand's arm never moved from across his shoulders, and Daniel trusted him. He really did.

"Hey Daniel. Armand." Louis. He patted the seating of the booth beside him, towards the back in the U-shape of the chair. Armand didn't move for a moment but, when he did, he led the way so that he would be sitting closest to Louis, which would leave Daniel closest to the edge, opposite Lestat.

"Ooh, I have the first one!" Lestat announced by way of greeting. There was a neon light in the room that lit up Lestat's locks like it was no one's business. With Daniel's dark hair and both Armand and Louis' skin, Lestat was far and away the brightest thing in the room, and that was before he grinned pointedly. "Do we want to know why you two are late?"

The waggling of his eyebrows that joined this query definitely suggested the follow up question, Sex before Karaoke, or after?

"You're early," Armand rejoined easily, not feeding into Lestat's tone at all.

Which, Daniel thought, looking over at Louis, was probably good. Louis had rolled his eyes and looked away from both his current- and his ex-boyfriends as though there was something very interesting about the damask wallpaper print on the back wall.

Lestat huffed out a breath, then made a show of looking down at a wrist watch that was likely more than the last three of Daniel's paychecks combined. Damn, Lestat was the lead singer in a band that was aspiring. The Vampire Lestat had hardly made headlines anywhere yet, so where did all his damn money come from? Vampires were so over anyway. Who did Lestat think he was? Anne Rice, or something?

"Perhaps," Lestat allowed eventually, in what was one of the least gracious acknowledgements of someone else being right Daniel thought he'd ever seen.

But he didn't say anything about that, because he was here to make a good impression tonight. As Armand's boyfriend.

"What's the song you picked?" Daniel asked gamely, because it was certainly a safer topic than anything else Lestat had started.

Louis shot him a look across the booth that was definitely grateful. Armand reached over and took Daniel's hand. And Lestat smiled widely at him. Daniel figured he'd made a pretty fair start to tonight.

"Well," Lestat said, and the opening chords to Nick Cave’s Red Right Hand began to play around them as Lestat all but skipped to the stage. He held the microphone stand with an experienced flourish, sending it forward towards the booth before pulling it back by the electrical cord.

It wasn’t the first time Daniel had seen Lestat in his element this way. What wasn’t really fair was the way he always claimed the first song. Daniel… didn't have the confidence Lestat did. Louis didn’t even sing most of the times they were here, so Lestat took twice the number of songs. Whose idea had it been to pick karaoke as the main regular catch up of this group? Daniel hardly had to guess. He just wondered what made Armand and Louis both agree to it.

None of that mattered right then, though. Because while Armand perused the song list, Daniel grew incredibly distracted by the way Armand had stared stroking little patterns across his palm.

He shuddered, only half paying attention to Lestat’s first performance, if even that much.

Lestat’s French accent was as subsumed as was more or less normal when he sang, but he gave he song particular inflections that were all his own. Nick Cave’s lyrics rolled from Lestat’s tongue as though they'd been written for him. He strutted back and forth during the instrumental sections. Lestat was a good looking man. Daniel was pretty sure he was allowed to think that kinda thing now. It all would have probably been very interesting, if not for Armand.

Yet, every time Daniel looked next to him to meet Armand's gaze, his boyfriend's brown eyes were still tilted down towards the song list. He didn't, not even once, look up to meet Daniel's eyes. And yet the tips of those clever fingers told Daniel that Armand's attention was never far from him.

The feeling was entirely mutual. It was definitely... very warm in here. Had they forgotten to put on the air conditioners tonight? Maybe Daniel needed to go see someone about this.

And yet, he could all too easily imagine Armand's fingers spreading to take his whole wrist within them if Daniel tried to move. So he stayed very, very still.

Daniel hazarded a glance towards Louis to see if he was aware of the growing hardness secretly happening in his pants, and with so little reason! But Louis only seemed to have eyes for Lestat as he rounded towards the end of Red Right Hand. Thank god for small mercies!

The next song was already beginning to play as Lestat came down from the stage. Daniel was still distracted but Armand, it seemed, had ended up picking something.

The country twang of the opening notes got Daniel's attention immediately. Hang on, what?

None of the four of them were on the stage. Lestat's eyebrows rose. "Who is singing this?" he demanded. It did not sound like a compliment.

Daniel glanced towards Armand. Unexpectedly, this time Armand actually was staring straight back at him. Daniel coughed out a laugh.

"Oh, you're on!" he crowed.

Daniel had recognised it immediately from those opening chords. Of course he had. This was the song that had been Armand’s ring tone on his phone for weeks.

Snorting, Daniel pushed himself up. If the song was playing anyway, Daniel had a point he wanted to make.

He was in this with Armand. Stupidly. Hornily. Completely.

The cheeky grin felt like it covered his whole face as he cupped the microphone in one hand. Armand hadn’t even tried to get out from the booth after him. That worked for Daniel. He'd sing this thing just for him.

Daniel picked it up seamlessly halfway through the first chorus, which were of course a repeat of the first half.

"I want you to want me. I need you to need me..."

He was thankful only that he'd chosen sturdy denim jeans for the night that would hide a host of sins under the lights he suddenly stood under. Between the song choice and the casual under table touching, Daniel felt horridly dishevelled. If he'd ever felt this way with Alice, he didn't remember it.

For half of the lyrics, Daniel wasn’t even in tune. But what he lacked in musical talent, he made up for with swagger. Just dancing back and forth. Shoulders moving up and down in time with the words, even more so every time the chorus came back.

“Didn’t I, didn’t I, didn’t I see you crying? Feelin' all alone without a friend, you know you feel like dying...”

By the time he came back to sit next to Armand, his dark hair was damp over his brow and he was convinced he’d just done his best performance ever on that stage.

His phone buzzed in his pocket before he sat down, and Daniel looked at it real quick.

A message from Armand. Who was sitting right in front of him now. I need you to need me 😘

Daniel leaned over. He was flushed and the whole world seemed amazing. “I do,” he whispered into Armand’s ear even as he fell back into the booth. Well, spoke the words normally rather than speaking over the music anyway.

Because Lestat was already back up on stage. And Daniel realised, oh, he loved this song! it was one of Lestat's own. How the fuck had Lestat managed to bribe the owners here to add it to the list? Did he really come here often enough for that? It was such a vanity project moment, and yet Lestat's cheeks and jawline were as pronounced as Daniel had ever seen them as he hummed out those opening notes. He was so involved in performing his own song here and like this that it didn't even seem to matter what the rest of them might be thinking.

For his part, Daniel knew Angel of Small Death and the Codeine Scene well enough from all the hours he'd spent listening to it on Myspace after he'd first heard it via Armand. Lestat didn't know this, but Daniel loved this song. He must have started mouthing along with the lyrics because, at some point, he noticed Lestat was pointing back at him. Daniel started, then pointed to his own self doubtfully. Lestat nodded, turning his hand around and crooking a finger back towards himself. The expression on his face while he sung seemed suggestive as hell.

No. Lestat couldn’t he serious. Daniel wasn’t just gonna go up there and join Lestat on singing his own damn song!

Except, karaoke was about fun. And Lestat looked like he was having a lot of fun up there. More than that, he wanted Daniel to join him.

There was still a light sheen of sweat against Daniel’s brow from the last song. Armand wasn't even touching him again yet, so this was a good time to go if he was gonna. His hard on had definitely calmed down during his time on stage. He found himself slowly sliding towards the end of the booth, only looking back at Armand only once. Armand nodded his head encouragingly.

Ah fuck it. He knew these lyrics back to front and wouldn’t even need to look at the prompter. Maybe Daniel could learn something about Lestat’s showmanship while he was up there.

Daniel downed the last of his beer before wholly committing to stepping out of the booth. Lestat had finished off the second chorus as Daniel leaned into the mic. He was surprised to find, as he begin the second verse, that Lestat didn’t sing it with him. Raising his eyebrows up to Lestat, he saw only that Lestat had taken half a step back and minimising his performance just to clicking both hands every other beat.

Oh, that wouldn’t do.

From somewhere in TV as a child, Daniel pulled out the finger waggle. Combined it with some steps he’d picked up from too many watches of Grease over the years. If they were doing this, they were doing it.

Lestat’s blond eyebrows lifted high, but he easily joined Daniel in the dance moves. The chorus was upon them before Daniel knew it and he and Lestat belted it out alongside each other.

“-straw blond hair, his arms hard and lean, he's the angel of small death and the codeine scene-”

It was hard to stand this close to Lestat without seeing the physical resemblance of him to the lyrics they sung.

At some point, Daniel looked out to Armand and Louis and saw Armand had pulled out the the small handheld camcorder he brought with him everywhere for ‘just in case’ moments.

By the last chorus, Lestat decided Daniel’s “moves” wouldn’t suffice any longer. Instead, dredged out some pop moves from the 80s and 90s and Daniel could help but laugh as he recognised them and followed through with him.

If he’s been sweaty after the last song, it was nothing compared to how he felt now. Daniel had come up here to have fun, and had worked out to have the time of his life. He was laughing and whistling at Lestat as they both came down from the stage, Lestat simply clapping in his direction and laughing as though he couldn’t contain it any better than Daniel.

The only downside was that, in their absence, Louis and Armand had finished off the jug of beer between them. And Daniel had finished what he'd had left of his own glass before he'd stepped up on that stage.

“Guess it’s my shout,” Daniel said, grimacing.

But, of course, Armand wouldn’t have that. He pulled a note out of his shirt pocket and handed it to Daniel. Cause of course he did. He'd been doing this far longer than they'd been boyfriends. Daniel didn't even see a point in arguing the topic with his fancy law intern boyfriend before he caught it between two forefingers then lifted it in a salute.

[monstroum]

he stands there , a master of his instincts , beholding the swelling floors of yet another family lost . each cut tie , each death , they all led to louis' hands . and the loss of each family member he could no longer embrace was a wound on him , left to rot in abandonment ㅤ─ ㅤ all EXCEPT ONE : one wound had miraculously begun to heal . he does not feel deserving of the gentleness in lestat's voice or of how merciful his words are . and when he reaches out to touch his shoulder , louis swallows down the cry which had been lodged in his throat since they had stepped into their old home . lestat apologises for not being able to bring claudia back and louis has to hang his head in shame .

even after everything which had happened ㅤ─ ㅤ louis could feel it in the other's voice : THE LINGERING LOVE . not only for him but for their daughter . for the family they had built , crooked and violent and doomed from the very beginning and still oh so beautiful . how could it have been a crime to have had claudia in their lives ? ㅤ─ ㅤseventy years had gone by and the only other person who could have understood his grief , who could have suffered through mourning as he had , had been in new orleans ... this whole time ! ㅤ─ ㅤ hand pressed against his shoulder , telling him it was okay . god , had lestat been there before ? had he wept ? had anyone held him ?

when lestat speaks against his shoulder , he does not hesitate ; louis immediately turns to wrap his arms around his paramour's torso , pulling him close and holding him there , haunted by the image of the great lestat de lioncourt , looking awfully small while lingering by the doorframe of their daughter's room , wide-eyed and lost with no one to turn to . louis buried his face in his hair and wished they could simply stand like that for a while ( perhaps a few years in that embrace would mend the wounds they had left each other with ) .

" you shouldn't have come back here alone . " though his voice is barely more than a whisper , louis is still surprised by how it shakes at the end . fingers sink into the fabric of lestat's clothes . he swears he can feel his heartbeat drumming against his chest ㅤ─ ㅤor perhaps it is his own ( sometimes louis cannot tell the difference ) . " i shouldn't have let you . " he sounds like himself again when he says this . the moments in which he was lost amidst blond locks gave louis the strength to pull away and look lestat in the eye . he wants to tell him he owes him nothing , that he accepts him for all of his horror and beauty , and that he only wishes he could have appreciated it and shared it with claudia while she was still there with them . " it's okay . " is what he says instead , a drawled echo of lestat's words . " you're okay , yeah ? " green eyes shift across lestat's features , making sure all parts are intact ㅤ─ ㅤ to make sure being there with louis had not broken him .

continued from here / @monstroum

    if he knew there was a chance of him dissuading louis, he might have pushed harder for them not to go. he had folded without pressure. i want to spare you the pain of it, louis, he might have said, but instead he had given a simple nod of his head and followed. you wouldn’t want me to. he understands why it is something he must do. lestat had felt that same nagging urge to go back - satisfy his longing - but it had reopened the deep gash in him; by now decades too old for there to be any satisfaction in peeling off the scab. it left him in agonizing pain.

    at least, this second time, both of them are here. lestat stands a few steps behind louis and watches as he takes it all in. it is easy for him to imagine the claudia that louis pictures there and he knows her to contrast his own. even here, where she is more tangible and alive to him than anywhere else, she is disfigured and screaming and a far cry from the lively, stubborn girl they raised. she is always the same. even here, he could not bring her back to what she was before. he had stood near the same spot as louis now and wished for nothing but to be held by him. the comfort of someone who might understand.

    louis' talking elicits something else in him other than sadness. being the selfish creature that he is, he clings onto the feeble expression of louis wanting him in paris. if not for something breaking in louis’ voice he might have let it distract him. he doesn’t need louis to finish his sentence, he knows he’s stumbled onto the horrible realisation that the room is nothing but a room in the end. he shakes his head even knowing that louis won’t see it. i know. 

    “you could still feel me because i was not dead, mon cher.”lestat can’t bring himself to say what is obvious to him: i was not dead, but she is. he steps closer to him but he hesitates before reaching for his shoulder: “i am sorry that she is not here and that there is not a world in which i could bring her to you.” he is sincere and, for all his ambivalence about claudia, he never wanted this. not once in seventy years. “i understand if you… hoped she might here. it’s okay, louis.” he comes close enough that when he inhales he feels louis’ back against his chest, “come here…” he says, pressing his mouth to his shoulder, “please.” 

[random-imagines-blog]

Walk Among the Dead {Louis de Ponte du Lac Oneshot}

Requested by: Anonymous Wordcount: 2414 Summary: A brooding vampire cannot take his eyes off you. How are you going to hold that attention?

It was your dancing which had caught his eye. You were making a display of yourself, seemingly so alive in this decrepit city. The smile on your face was large, like you were genuinely happy, something that Louis had not felt in a long time. But more than jealousy, you were triggering something else inside of those hollow bones of his. A longing thirst that came from deep within. He could see the blood running through the veins of your neck, the pulsing point, every single breath. He started to salivate, thinking of the sweet blood that must be coursing through you. Making it’s way to your face as you sweated in exertion but kept on going. The tangy, salty smell came from all of the humans, but yours was the only one that was enticing.

Louis sat in the darkness, watching. Wishing that he could be like you. Be like all of the humans once again, living without knowing what or who it was that went walking in the night. Able to drink wine, able to eat real food. Not living off of rats in the sewers, disgusting little things. Or killing the pretty little dogs of rich women. Look at them. All of their bodies squashed together like fish in a barrel, just ripe for the taking. But he only wanted you.

His eyes followed as you escaped from the throng, pushing hair out of your face, laughing with glee and adrenaline. You were coming in closer. He retreated further into the darkness. Leaning back against his chair. Becoming one with it. ‘Do not see me, do not see me’ he whispered as quietly as he could, barely able to hear himself, but keeping the sentiment and the power in his voice. But it did not work. You continued on in your trajectory towards him, bending down just a little.

“Why do you sit in the shadows?” You asked him, offering your hand. He could see the lines across your palm; the life line, the love line, on full display in front of his eyes. The wrist with it’s delicate veins just below. Nails short, dirty - but everyone’s were these days. It was a filthy town, New Orleans. Not like his own nails which were long, pointed, pristine. So obviously different from everyone elses. “Come join the dance with us. Do not be shy. We’re all friendly here.”

“But I am not,” Louis said, getting to his feet without your help. He intended to walk away but that hand kept enticing him. Even as he stood, cloaked in black, your hand was reaching out for him. Like a lifeline. Like you were ready to pull him back into the human world that he craved more than he craved blood. So he faltered. Like a coward, he stood there, unable to brush past you. To reject you. “I cannot dance with the others,” He told you, stiffly.

“So then dance with me!” You said, brightly. Your smile reminded him of the last sunrise that he had ever seen. The bright glow of it, eliminating everything that was dark and dreary on the landscape. And though his tongue poked at the fangs that were threatening to emerge in his mouth, though he felt the point craving your skin, he accepted, slipping his cold hand into yours. “It’s like touching a ghost, mister!” You exclaimed.

“I apologize,” He said, retreating, but you kept hold of his hand, holding it in both of yours now, trying to warm it up with your own body heat. He admired you for trying. Especially when you brought it up to your lips and blew your warm breath on it. Nothing would work. He knew that. But he thought for just a second that it might. “It is a condition, I’m afraid. There is nothing to be done.”

“Well, it was worth a try,” You said, still smiling, not allowing yourself to be discouraged. She let go with one hand so it was only one holding his own, fingers intertwined. “This is the part where you put your arm around my waist, sir.”

“It’s been a long time,” Louis admitted. He did occasionally dance with Lestat, the blonde haired brat prince, but he rarely took the lead in that one. Ever since he had met the vampire, he’d had the spiralling sense that he had no control over anything. And even though you were telling him what he should do, he was starting to feel a little ... bold? Like he could handle such a thing as a dance. He could be alright for just one, surely.

He moved his arm so that it was around your waist. He could feel the warmth of your blood through your clothing, you might as well have not been wearing any. Alone, secluded, a light breeze bringing the scent of your hair, of your skin to his nostrils. His mouth was watering at the closeness. It was so dark back here, he could have just a bite. And you tilted your head so perfectly, your neck all exposed...

“What’s your name, stranger?” You asked, snapping him out of his thirsty thoughts.

“Louis,” He said, slowly. He did not know at that moment that he would never again know a second’s peace. Your face would be plaguing his mind day after day, minute after minute, starting before he had ever known your name.

“A face like that should not be hiding away in a dark corner,” You said, pressing in close, chest to chest. The music was lively, and you were spinning with him, laughter echoing through his ears.

“Nor should yours,” He said back to you. Your laughter sounded like wind chimes in a breeze, enough to tickle the brain but not overpower his thoughts. He wished that it had - your blood was calling, calling - singing. He can’t take it anymore. The thirst is too overwhelming, it’s making his head spin. You gasped as  he let go of you midspin, sending you flying into the chair that he had recently vacated, but he did not look back. Instead, he walked quickly through the other couples, disappearing in the blink of an eye into a dark alleyway, searching for rats or perhaps an alley-cat to quench his thirst.

-

You were the most alive person that he had encountered in a very long time, but you haunted him nonetheless. Every night at sundown, as he awoke inside of his tomb-like coffin, he grew restless, looking over at the door every few seconds. Fighting against himself, jittering, until he would finally take the steps and leave the house, returning to where he had met you. He did not sit in the shadows this time, but stood in them, dwelled within them, disappeared entirely into them, only a flicker of his bright eyes occasionally seen, and thought to be that of an animal prowling. You came out often here to dance, and to socialize. But what was more interesting to him was the fact that though others had sat in the seat you had once pulled them from, you did not ask them to dance. You seemed to stick to a small group of people, rarely if ever deviating from it.

Interesting.

On one rather chilly night, as the fall was turning to winter and the nights were getting longer in this humid city, he attempted to sneak out as he usually had, but was caught this time. Your hand was upon his arm, making him freeze in place. “Hello Louis,” You said, pleasantly. “I thought you had forgotten all about this place.”

Your smile was more radiant up close than it ever had been from afar. He found himself at a loss for words. His plumped lips tried to form an apology but his voice would just not project. You laughed, but it didn’t feel like it was at him. It broke the tension and he found himself smiling. Lestat would not have believed his eyes if he had seen it. “I apologize,” He said. You nodded, expecting that.

“Well, don’t  sneak out without giving me a dance,” You coaxed, moving your hand down his arm to entwine your fingers together.

“Okay,” He said, simply, and gave your hand a squeeze. God, just that motion alone, bringing blood rushing through your veins, was enough to make him begin to salivate. But this time, he did not run, nor did he push you away. He danced with you, he spun you, he even dipped you once, making your head fall back, your neck all exposed. You were absolutely beautiful. More divine than anyone he had ever seen before.

He could not help himself. Better than the heartiest of perfumes, he could smell your blood as you came back in close. Your hair lightly blew towards him as the breeze came from behind, pushing it forward, forward, along with the scent. His lips were at your throat. You were giggling again, your shoulder raising. “You’re tickling me,” You said, lightly attempting to push it away. And he accepted it with horror, thinking of what he had nearly just done. He wanted to run again, wanted to find a cat, a dog, an elephant even, to quench his thirst. It would be so easy to break from your grip, physically easy. But he was finding it to be impossible as you caught him in your glance. “Are you going to run from me again?”

“Not this time.”

-

Eventually, Louis invited you to his home. The one that he had shared with Lestat. The more confidence and suave vampire didn’t affect you as much as he clearly would have liked to, since it seemed you only had eyes for the brunette with the sullen face. Over the course of the next couple of days, you spent quite a bit of time together. Courting, was how you had told your friends about it. But one night, things had gotten a little out of hand. You had been drinking wine together, and it was bringing a lot of blood to your face, tinting it ever so slightly in a deep red beneath your skin tone. His thirst had grown so immense that when he went in to give you a peck on the cheek, it did not end there. Your breathy moans made him both aroused and famished. And he could not help himself. His fangs extracted. They buried themselves into your skin.

The shock of it made you gasp, and you began to fall limp in his arms as he took more and more - only stopping once he realized what he was doing. You had fallen into his arms,a few ruby red drops coming from the new wounds in your throat.  He checked on you, fingers on your pulse point - your heartbeat was still strong, and your eyes blinked back open. “What happened?” You asked, looking about you.

And he opened up, despite his fears, despite the secrecy that he knew that he had to live under for the rest of his existence. And you - incredible, incredible you, listened. You looked more cautious than fearful, fingers tapping at the pinpricks that were on your neck. He had not gone too far, nor too deep. You looked like you felt a little faint, but not too much worse than that. After seeing Lestat’s constant victims, he had feared the worst for you. “Are you alright?” He asked after he had finished his speech, the night coming to a close.

“Yes, just a little light-headed,” You admitted. “So, my love Louis-” If he had a heart still beating in his chest, he knew that it would have raced at just that sentence alone. At being called your love. “You need to take better care of yourself. You are going to live forever, you must stick with the upkeep.”

“That would require hurting people, killing people y/n. I cannot accept that.”

“Then accept me. Accept what you had just done to me and let me help you. It didn’t hurt as much as you think that it did. In fact...” You moved in closer to him. He became more scared of you in that moment than you were of him. You held all the power in your hands. He felt like he was the mere mortal one under your touch. Under the kiss that you pressed onto the corner of his lips. “It was pleasurable. And tomorrow night, I will come back, and you can do it again.”

“You can’t!” Louis protested. “I may lose control, I may hurt you. I would not be able to live with myself if I were to ever do anything like that to you. No, you cannot see me again-”

“If that is what you really want,” You said sadly, backing away, hands resting on your lap. “But I am willing to take the risk, for you.”

-

Over the next couple of months, you two saw one another regularly. He would bring you to the house at times when Lestat was out partying, or hunting, or doing whatever it was that Lestat did. You were his, and his alone. He didn’t want you getting caught up in that sadist’s schemes. He might attempt to change you, the way that he did with him. You became not only his cup, sipping just a tantalizing mouthful, but his lover as well. He began to fall in love.

His way of thinking became changed. Surely he could not be damned if he felt this way still. Surely he could not be a monster if he had your affection, your love. You reassured him of that the more that you saw him, stroking his pale cheeks. “You are an enigma, Mr. De Ponte Du Lac,” You would tell him. “A true angel in the flesh. My angel.”

And he would tell you the same things. “You have brought me back to life, mon amour,” He would whisper into your ear, before he would take that bite of your flesh.

And one of these days, perhaps, if he thought that you were ready for it, he may just offer you the gift of immortality, something that he never thought he would burden another person with. But it hardly seemed like a curse if you would be by his side.

[happyandticklish]

Breaking Louis

Summary: Louis is bringing down the mood of the estate, and Lestat takes it upon himself to cheer the other up. 

“I-It’s not w-working!”

The phrase was uttered uselessly from the lips of one Louis de Pointe du Lac, straddled by none other Lestat de Lioncourt, his wrists clasped around his hands to stop them as they climbed his sides relentlessly.

This had been a game going on for quite some time now. Louis rarely laughed, and when he did it was often sarcastic and derisive. Lestat had made his mind up to force it out of him, and thus they found themselves here after a sudden and frightening pounce by Lestat threw them both back on the couch.

Louis squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to focus on the maddening drumming sensation of Lestat’s fingers against his side. And it was maddening. Louis hadn’t been tickled for years, not since he was young, and nowadays his strength gave him an advantage on anyone who tried. Unfortunately, Lestat held this same strength and used it now to keep him pinned.

“Oh?” Lestat inquired, flashing him a dazzling grin. “But you’re laughing, are you not?”

“I’m nohohot!” Louis insisted, the lie hissed through gritted teeth. The soft material of his undershirt was only adding to the increasingly gentle sensation of Lestat’s fingers against his sides. “T-Thihis ihihis chihihihildish, Lehehestat!”

“Desperate times call for desperate measures,” Lestat quoted faithfully, grinning at each twitch and squeak. It was strange to see the other laughing and smiling for a change, so used was he to the usual dismissive scowl. “And these are certainly desperate times; you’re too grumpy. My mother had a saying, whenever I was being particularly sullen. She would tell me, ‘If you keep making that face it’s going to stick’. I took that phrase to heart. I am simply preventing you from having that ugly expression for all eternity.”

“T-Thahahat dohohoesn’t mahahahake ahany sehehense! Ahahaha, nohohohoho!” He let go of Lestat’s hands to dart his elbows down instead as the other immortal reached his armpits. Unfortunately for him, all he accomplished with that particular action was trapping the devastating touch in the sensitive spot. “P-Plehehease!”

“What was that?” Lestat leaned in closer, acting confused. “I’m sorry, did you just… did you just say please? Is Lestat de Lioncourt, insufferable cynic, unapologetic mope, actually begging?”

Louis didn’t answer, squirming underneath the other as he attempted to block out the feelings.

“I might stop if you beg,” Lestat decided. “I think that would be such a miracle in and of itself that I would have no choice.”

Louis shoved at his chest, throwing his head back in helpless cackles. The larger part of him, the intellectual part, that knew he could remove himself from the situation if he truly applied himself. However, he was finding that the tickling was quickly sapping his strength and the more he struggled the more it tickled as he shoved the other’s fingers against his skin, leaving him in an impossible situation. Also there may have been a tiny, infinitesimal, part of him that didn’t entirely hate it. There was a rather human nature to the whole thing, after all, and Louis was secretly glad that this small part of himself had survived the transformation, and that he still had something human in him after all.

Only a tiny bit, of course.

“I’m nohohot gohohohona b-beheheg, yohohou dehehevil!” Louis gasped, finally managing to wrench the hands away from his armpits. Lestat simply shook his head at the impetuousness, grabbing each of his hands in one of his and pulling them over his head. Louis swallowed at the suddenly vulnerable position.

“What was that?” Lestat asked, slipping his remaining hand under his shirt and onto bare skin. Louis exhaled sharply, tensing. “You’re not going to beg, is that it?”

“I-I’m not going to beg over something as—ah—stupid as t-tickling,” Louis informed him sharply, attempting to sink further into the couch as Lestat traced swirls over his stomach. “T-Thihis is, pfft, uhuseless—geh—hmm, a-ahaha!”

“I’m sure you’re right,” Lestat agreed sympathetically. Louis found himself resenting the sharp quality of his nails, something the other had always been proud of. “So you wouldn’t mind if I did this all night long?”

Louis’s eyes widened at the proposition. A thrill of excitement and nerves skittered through him and a smile broke through his resistance, followed by a couple of stupidly cute giggles he instantly regretted. “F-Fuhuhuck yohou!”

“Such strong language!” Lestat gasped. “We must right this wrong at once. Where was that spot you loved so much? Here, right?”

Louis arched and squeaked as nails stroked over the stretched skin of his armpits, the sensation against his bare skin so much worse than he could have anticipated. He tugged at his trapped arms, shifting violently on the couch. “A-Ahahaha, thahahahat’s nohohot f-fahahahair!”

“No,” Lestat agreed with a grin. “It’s really not.”

For a couple of minutes Louis endured the soft, relentless torture, babbling out incoherent sentences and reacting with a number of interesting noises that Lestat tucked away in his mind to dwell on later. It wasn’t until he stopped the gentle act and drilled into the spot that Louis finally came around.

“Wahahahait, shihihihihiHIHIHIT!” Louis’s legs kicked desperately as he squeezed his eyes shut. “Stohohohop, stohohop, stohohop! Plehehehease! Plehehehease, ohohokay? I gihihive, I gihihive—fuhuhuck, thahahat tihihihickles!”

Lestat backed off immediately, releasing the other. He remained straddling him however, enjoying the sight of a flushed, giggly Louis underneath him.

“Was that really necessary?” Louis demanded once he had regained his breath.

“No,” Lestat admitted. “But it was fun.”

Louis sighed, throwing one arm over his face as he collapsed back on the couch. “You are an endless annoyance, Lestat.”

“And you didn’t stop me.” Lestat slung his leg off of him, sliding off of the couch. He didn’t miss the way Louis stiffened at his words. “Oh yes, I picked up on that. You think I don’t know how very capable you are of fighting me off? Yet for some reason, you declined to do so now.” He smirked slyly. “Don’t worry though; I promise to use the information against you only when I feel you truly need it.”

As it turned out, that moment was always. And though Louis complained vehemently, he never stopped him, and slowly their house began to be filled with laughter once more.

[gulfportofficial]

Gp Gp gp 

I wasn’t going to pre-share this on tumblr bc it really should be in context but it’s just taking me so fucking long to finish this and I want GP readers to know what’s up.  Anyway, tw for rape trauma; gulfport scene 

He slid his fingers under my pajama bottoms, against my skin. “You’re so beautiful,” he said. “So very beautiful. I love you, you know.”

“Don’t tell me, show me!”

He kissed me again, messy and deep, and rolled me on top of him. His hands felt me all over, excitedly, under my shirt, over my ass again. He both fondled and held tight and there was something so very sweet about that, that he hid himself beneath me, as if he were sheltering, nesting. He buried his nose in my collarbone and inhaled. I gripped his body back and ran my hands along it.

He wriggled down and pulled my pants down with him, kissing and caressing me as he did, then easing my thighs apart to nestle his face between them. I giggled and he spread my legs a little wider. He kissed there. He sunk his teeth into the very top of my thigh.

It hurt. It hurt a lot and I gasped and felt my skin prickle and come alive and I waited for the delight of it to take me over. But it didn’t. Instead it burned so much that it was if my spirit pulled back from it and I jolted out of myself and sailed away.

It was such a shock that my stomach lurched up into my mouth. With it came the memory of human acid burning there, when I’d had a real body, and fear came too. It was dark all around me and a smell rose and smothered me and I caught glimpses of tattered gold hair.

I whimpered. “Louis,” I said. My heart beat hard. I thought it was my heart. “Louis?”

“Hmm?” he said.

“I’m not sure I can.”

“Can what?”

“I don’t think I can have sex, I don’t want to have sex. Please stop.”

When I said it aloud I was sure I’d throw up in earnest and I had to turn my face to the side in case I did. How could I have done something so stupid? I’d said that when I could have endured it. It would have been momentary! And he’d insist on knowing and I didn’t want anyone to know!

I couldn’t even resolve my face. I wasn’t inside it. I couldn’t make it sit spitefully to protect myself, I didn’t know how it read to him. His movements seemed small and unconcerned and painfully out of step with my apocalypse. He smiled somehow and he shifted himself out from between my legs and wiped his mouth and after a moment he leaned up and kissed my cheek. I could feel my thigh hemorrhaging open and pulling me down with it and I knew I would bleed to death now, bleed to human death as I had already done, but this time I would wake up even more monstrous than before, and he kissed my cheek!

I could hear myself making a sound. I tried to stop. I had to be healing, surely. I had to be.  

“Too tired after all?” Louis said, in a normal, impossible voice. He lay down next to me and pulled the covers up.

My voice sounded stupid. “You’re not mad?”

“No?”

“Well, I mean, I… I mean, I started things.”

Louis frowned. “I did too, but it doesn’t matter.”

“You really don’t mind?”

“I don’t mind,” he said. “What’s the matter? Are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m fine, I’m…”

He was making his concerned face. The one I knew so well, with his brows together and his lips in a neat little line. Predictable. I tried to anchor myself to the familiarity of that face, my annoyance with that face, to tell myself that it was really him, only Louis, and that I knew how to deal with him. But then he reached out and stroked my hair back from my face and the touch was so gentle that I felt it like a blow. “I want to throw up,” I blurted.

Louis blinked. “Oh,” he said. “I’m sorry?”

“I want to yell at you,” I said desperately. “I’m not yelling at you!”

“Thank you?”

“I’m going to… I don’t know that I can… Louis!”

“It’s alright,” he was saying. “It’s alright. Can you tell me what’s happening?”

He absolutely was angry with me. I wanted to shove him away from me and slice him open and tell him how dare he feel anything about me at all. His eyes blazed but he spoke so gently. So gently! It made me furious! It felt like a trap. Like he was trying to worm his way into me.

“I didn’t want to say that but I didn’t know what else to do and now it feels bad!” I said, uselessly, desperately. My voice was so high.

“Didn’t want to say to stop?” Louis said.

“Yes!” I said, and now my voice was even worse. It was ragged and too loud and I prayed my mother wasn’t awake or nearby enough to hear it.

“But it’s alright,” he said. “I don’t mind at all if you want to stop, everything’s alright.”

He wouldn’t trap me with that either. I’d tear his face off before any trap snapped shut, see if I didn’t. The muscles in my hand were ready to do it. They would do it! He’d be sorry! “I didn’t have a good reason!” I yelled. “I just! I got in my head and… listen, it’s fine now, it’s fine, you can start again.”

“No, I…”

“Do it!” I said. “Stop looking at me! Do it!”

“Lestat,” Louis said. He swallowed. His eyes seemed to shimmer for a second or two. Then he blinked. “Lestat, I don’t want to do that and I’m not going to.”

“Then don’t be mad!”

“I’m not… Lestat, you are allowed… you wanted to stop.”

“And I said you could start it again, just get down there!”

“No, I don’t…”

“Stop being angry with me, then! I said you could do it!”

“I’m not angry at all, or if I am it’s only that…”

“Don’t make me wait for it! Whatever punishment you have for me just hurt me now! Otherwise get down and do it!”

He moved his body up. Suddenly. One fluid motion and then he was covering me. I bucked against it and I would have pushed him off, but he cleared his throat and it made him wheeze and that forced a whining sound out of my own throat because paradoxically as much as I wanted to kill him I also didn’t want him to suffer any hurt at all. It stopped me as surely as if my back had been broken in place, and I couldn’t speak.

“Mon petit Monsieur,” Louis said. The closest he’d ever gotten to a pet name. “I’m so very sorry. If I’m… I’m very… of course I’m not angry with you.”

I felt myself choking again. His eyes were red-rimmed for some reason, like he was trying not to cry. I felt the smell of that blood in my throat, the real promise of real violence, but he was speaking still and I had to listen. It hurt to do so. “Louis!” I said.

“Please, please understand,” he said. “You have done nothing wrong. I am not angry with you, not at all.”

“But how are you…” I said but I didn’t know what I was asking. “Louis! How are you…”

“I’m…” Louis said. “Oh mon petit, come here.”

For a moment the impulse to break him open at the throat overwhelmed me. But then he moved his hands up to my hair and I buried my face against his body and he folded himself around me all the way. I dug my fingernails into his skin, but he didn’t seem to notice. I couldn’t even be angry now. All I could do was press my face into his naked chest like an animal.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, from somewhere out in the world where I couldn’t see him. “Mon dieu, I’m so sorry. I’m…”

“Nothing’s wrong,” I said.

“Nothing’s wrong now, and you have done nothing wrong. I’m… oh, I’m…”

“It’s alright, Louis,” I said. “You didn’t do anything either.”

“No,” he said. “No it isn’t that at all, I’m...”

“Louis,” I said. I tried to say it firmly but I couldn’t make it sound firm and it didn’t stop him.

“Lestat,” Louis said. “Please. You do not have to do this if you don’t want to. I’m so sorry you don’t seem to know that.”

“I know it, Louis!” I said, and as panicked and plaintive as my voice was, it could have been so much worse and I have no idea how I managed to restrain it. My mind raced in utter desperation and the speed of it had made me violently sick again. My voice seemed to say all of that, though it was also hard to say anything. “I just got confused. Don’t go on about it.”

“Mon petit monsieur,” Louis said, “please, it’s perfectly alright.

I didn’t know what to say to that. “Don’t call me that,” I said.

“You don’t like it?”

I love it with all my heart. “No, I hate it.”

“Then I won’t say it. But please, I must... you don’t owe that to me, or to anyone, and I’m so…”

I wrenched myself up out of his arms. I looked him dead in the eyes. “You don’t have to do any of this,” I said. “It’s fine.”

Louis gave me a skeptical look. I glared at him. It should have destabilized him but it didn’t. He just put his hands to the side of my face and sighed.

I let him have his hands there and I tolerated the sigh, as difficult as that was – they were concessions, concessions to the greater goal – but I wouldn’t have him doubt me. “It’s fine, Louis,” I said. “Stop fussing.”

“It is not fine at all.”

“It’s fine! I just… I tripped myself up. I did it because I’m an idiot. There’s no more to it than that.”

“And it has nothing to do with what we discussed yesterday, or with the fact that your mother is here?”

That hit me in the chest like a cannon. I don’t know how I didn’t gag. Perhaps I did. I jerked away from his hands at any rate. I sat up. “Shut up!” I said. “It’s got nothing to do with anything.”

Louis frowned again. “I’m not going to press it now,” he said. “I’m not equipped for that. We figured that out, I think. I’ve got the subtlety of dynamite on this matter, and I apologize.”

“But you do have an opinion.”

“Yes.”

I wasn’t sure if I wanted to laugh in his face or punch him in it. Both options felt equally hysterical. “Suppose you just tell me your opinion, Louis.”

“You know what it is.”

“Say it,” I demanded. “Say whatever stupid thing it is you think.”

Louis cleared his throat. Then he cleared it again. His hands had followed my body when I’d moved, but he’d taken them away now to cough into them. How insulting.

“Louis,” I said.

“No, I…”

“Louis,” I said, and my tone, I hope, conveyed how exactly how little I wished to fuck around.

It did, evidently. He met my eyes, and his expression was not, I thought, altogether kind. “There is…” Louis said. “You must know this. There is a relationship between your assumption of desert on certain traumatic issues, and your desire to have people love you by any means necessary. And it is culminating in... in this behavior.”

“What traumatic issues?” I said, furiously, but we both knew I knew exactly what he meant. The fury was more desperate ritual than it was actual accusation, but I hoped it would protect me anyway. I drew it around myself like a magic cloak. I suspect Louis observed that, because he spared me and didn’t answer my question. At least not directly.

Still, what he did say was almost worse. “You must listen to me,” he said, reaching out his hand again. I slapped it away but he went on. “Please. Please listen. You do not need to… there is no requirement for you to have sex you do not wish to have.”

“I know that!”

“You don’t know it,” he said. “You are demonstrating that you don’t. And you must know… that I don’t… surely if nothing else, everything that’s past must make you understand. I’ve loved you even when I couldn’t stand you. You are so dear to me, don’t you understand that?”

“Oh sure,” I said, my chest heaving against the bile. “You know, you don’t always have to mention that you couldn’t stand me.”

Louis ignored that. “You don’t have to do anything to secure this. You don’t have to favor me.”

“I’m not favoring you!” I said. “I like fucking! I don’t know what happened just then!”

“Yes,” he said. “You do.”

“Shut up, Louis!” I said. My intestines would crawl out from between my teeth if he didn’t stop. “I know all of that! I just confused myself. It’s not important like you’re making it. Shut up.”

“I am sorry,” Louis said.

“Stop being sorry!” I said. “It’s my own fault!”

“How could that possibly be?”

“Because I shouldn’t have said anything,” I snapped.

Louis’ face collapsed. “And I wouldn’t have known,” he said, and just like that I wanted to weep.

It’s actually strange to me, upon reflection, that I didn’t. I suppose it was too great a feeling for mere tears. Tears would have required some clarity or some human feeling and I had none. My chest had filled with one impossible sob but I could not and did not release it. Maybe, I thought, he might actually not have known.

“I can’t tolerate that,” Louis said. “I don’t want that. Please. I must tell you that… please know that my love for you is not conditional upon… that you are not required to… you don’t deserve to have to... I know you think you… please…”

He had nothing to say. He’d already run himself aground. How typical of him. How feeble and uninteresting and pointlessly intellectual. My mouth was sour and I wanted to leave, but some part of me was compelled to stay and make the point. “No,” I said. “I would have wanted to again soon enough.”

Louis frowned again. He wrinkled his nose up. He opened his mouth but then he shut it again.

“I would have,” I insisted.

“That’s… well…” Louis said. “Ah. That, I think, is a problem.”

“That’s not a problem!”

“Shh,” Louis said. “Shh, it’s alright.”

“Stop trying to make me calm down, Louis! I’m perfectly calm! It’s not a problem! I know my own mind and I’m telling you, it’s fine!”

Louis took another pause. He seemed to gather himself. “If that is how you feel,” he said, “then we’ll stop and start again when you do wish to. There’s no reason you must… play through…”

Did he play golf? For some reason that question was stupidly pressing and I wanted to ask it. I think he does sometimes actually. But it wasn’t relevant here. “Why are you trying to make this some big and stupid deal, Louis!” I said. “I just got a little in my own head! I shouldn’t have said anything. I regret saying anything! Because now you’re making it into an event and it just isn’t one!”

“Is there perhaps a little truth in what I’ve said?” Louis asked me, in the softest voice I’d ever heard. It twisted my guts into knots again just to hear it and I turned my face away.

“No,” I said.

Louis’ tone didn’t change. “Will you please consider,” he said, “just consider, that’s all I’m asking, that some of your instincts on this matter are a little wrong?”

“No!” I said, furiously. “I absolutely will not. Because they are not.”

“But don’t you…”

“Shut up, Louis!” I snapped. “You’re so full of bullshit. If you’re weak and stupid enough to beg for love you cannot be fussy about the way people give it to you!”

Louis looked straight at me, but he didn’t need to. The moment I said it I knew what a fucking idiot I’d been. What an absolute buffoon. With that one pathetic statement, I’d managed to say something so imbecilic and so revealing that he’d won against me with in this patronizing, aggravating, nauseating argument without even having to do it himself. I bit down on my lip, hard, and tried to roll away. Even my own blood made me feel sick.

Louis wouldn’t let me get away. He caught me by my waist and turned me back around until I was facing him. I fought him every inch of the way. My hands were in fists and I had opened my mouth to bite him like an animal, but I didn’t. Because then I was facing him and his expression arrested me. He didn’t look like somebody who had won. He didn’t even look like someone who disapproved of me for being this much of an idiot, though I was one and he might reasonably have disapproved. “Lestat,” he said, his eyes huge and bright and imploring, “Lestat. Please let me tell you this. You did not deserve it. You never could have.”

The sob in my chest was still stuck there. Aching and with no noise and I did not weep. I thought it would choke me not to weep. And then all I could think of were the worst of his implications.

“Louis,” I said. “Louis is this… yesterday were you… was this… did you cry because you didn’t want to and you didn’t know how to make it stop?”

Louis looked surprised. “Excuse me?”

“Louis, was it?”

He smiled, in a strange, incredulous way. “No, that was much worse,” he said, dryly. “It doesn’t matter. Let’s think about you at the moment.”

He said it like he was joking. I think he did it to comfort me. But it didn’t sit right with me. It wasn’t the time to joke. “Louis, please,” I said.

“That’s not relevant now.”

“It is! Because if it wasn’t that then what was it?”

“It’s not necessary to explain.”

“Please try. Please. I have to know. I can’t… I can’t bear it, Louis. Please.”

“Well, perhaps it’s similar.”

“Oh darling!” I said. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!”

“Shh,” Louis said. “Be calm.” He brushed my hair back again and I let him. He stroked my face and I let him do that as well. How strange it was to have him pet me like this, how strong it made him seem. I couldn’t have bitten him now if I’d wanted to, I was that spellbound, and how afraid and how safe that made me feel.

And how panicked that combination made me. “Louis!” I said.

“Shh, it doesn’t matter.”

“Louis, please…”

“Look,” he said. “Do you really want to know about that? Is that what you really want to talk about now? Wouldn’t you rather just try to rest?”

“No.”

“It’s morning.”

“Louis,” I said. “No.”

He thinned his lips, but I kept staring at him. I might have even made my own eyes wider, sweeter, on purpose. In fact I think I did do that because it made him frown in that particular way he does when he is annoyed by me but too sympathetic to say it. I didn’t relent though. I kept at it until finally, he said., “would it really ease your mind to hear about it?”

“Yes.”

“Alright,” he said. He sighed.

“And?”

Louis moved and shuffled down so he was lying beside me. Even this momentary absence hurt me and I reached out my hand for his. Thankfully he took it. He held it over his heart and I shuffled down too. “Alright,” he said. “Look.”

I looked. I waited.

“I am sympathetic to this concept of… reciprocal desert, I suppose,” Louis said.

“Louis,” I said. “You are correct that it is morning. And that I’m very tired. Please pontificate less and explain more.”

He gave a desperate little snort at that. It was painfully adorable and I felt a stab of real affection at it. It was the first thing I’d felt in some time that wasn’t fear or nausea and I clung to it. I squeezed his hand. “I’m listening, chéri.”

Louis closed his eyes. He took a breath through his nose before he opened them again. “Look,” he said, once again. “I’m not sure you understand how… little sustained sexual experience I had before you and I became acquainted… how little sustained experience I had with sex I even enjoyed.”

That both surprised me and didn’t. It wasn’t news, but it also wasn’t true enough for him to say in this candid situation. When I’d met him he’d been depraved. “What about all your sex workers?”

“My what?”

“Your whores, Louis. It’s the term people use now. It’s polite.”

Louis appeared to take that in. “Look,” he said, “the fact that I enjoyed… enjoyed… liked, ah… that I… I enjoyed… ahem… Jesus fucking Christ, I beg your pardon. I…”

I waited for as long as I could, but it seemed that he wasn’t going to make it. “Louis?” I prompted.

“… that I enjoyed the, ah, culmination.”

“Oh, you liked getting off. You liked when you came. Sure.”

“Yes,” Louis said, sharply. He flushed, but then he pushed it back and forced himself onward. “Yes. Obviously. I had a human body, as base as it was. But the fact that I liked… that aspect of… ah… look. It did not negate that I could seldom bring myself to be… present… during the act itself. And there were some… brief exceptions in my youth but as I had aged that had become… increasingly difficult.”

“Then why keep doing it at all?” I said, probably stupidly. “Why didn’t you just jerk off?”

It was stupidly. Louis looked at me in exactly the way I deserved for speaking so stupidly. But he went on. “Because I didn’t… look. It isn’t that I didn’t want to… have… look.”

“I’m looking, Louis,” I said. And please, dear God, won’t you finally tell me what I’m supposed to be looking at.

He cleared his throat again. “When I fell in love with you,” he said (and I loved hearing him say that, because no matter the circumstances I always will), “when I decided to follow you as I did, you were so new to me, you were like nothing I’d ever felt. I told myself that it was entirely because you were my first vampire. That you were spellbinding to me only because of that. I knew that this was not true, but it is what I told myself.”

“But what do you mean?” I said. “I mean, thank you, because… well, I mean, just thank you, it’s nice to know that I’m actually somehow unique to you instead of just, you know… your symbolic supernatural end, but I mean… that doesn’t seem to warrant all of this anxiety, it’s just nice to know but…”

“Alright,” Louis said, again, cutting me off. “Some of the reason I decided to go with you, that what I felt for you was so remarkable to me is that…”

“I’m delightful.”

“You are but...”

“But what? I’m delightful.”

“You are,” Louis said. “You are also another man.”

It was not something I had expected him to say. I hadn’t known what to expect, certainly, but this absolutely wasn’t it and I found I had to calibrate myself to hear it properly. To do so felt like threading myself through time, as if my body were in multiple places at once, and it was already so difficult to stay inside it. Because it hadn’t even occurred to me, but it felt so uniquely strange and so very deliberate that it had not.

I doubted he could hear any of that when I spoke, however. “You didn’t like women you mean? Is that what you mean or are you still talking about that choir boy thing where you’re not allowed to like any of it?”

“I’ll never know,” Louis said. “Was it about the people I did it with or only about myself? Original sin or very specific? I don’t know. I’ll never know. The man I was no longer exists.”

“Well then why does it matter?” I said. “I’m not trying to be hard, I just don’t… I want to understand.”

“Because this intimacy I have with you now,” Louis said, “it makes it difficult to read things against how they used to be. Particularly… some sexual things.”

“What?” I said.

I knew I was out of sync with myself but this did seem genuinely confusing. Louis frowned again. He flushed again too, but that just seemed to make him angry with himself. He looked down, away from me, and he bit his lip. “When you would… when you’d push me. And dominate. And demand. When it would be a part of a fight or part of some despairing series of events. When it hurt me. I think it gave me permission. To do something I had always wanted to do.”

“You mean…” I said. “You mean you’re allowed because you’re not wanting to, you’re letting me.”

“Yes,” Louis said, looking up. “That’s what I mean.”

I sucked in a breath. Part of me knew how wrong it was of me to press my advantage like this, to use his sympathy to draw these confessions out of him, but another part knew I’d never hear this any other way. As painfully and embarrassingly candid as he’d been in the therapist’s office, this, I knew, was too personal even for that. This was about him, not us. And I’d known, I wanted to say. I’d known I’d played this part in your self-flagellation all along, but never known how to ask it.

“But isn’t this just…” I said. “Aren’t you just arguing that you asked for what I did to you? Because I don’t agree with that, I don’t think that’s right, the logic doesn’t hold. If I “didn’t deserve it” then you didn’t either and I’m not going to accept that you did. There aren’t different rules.”

“No,” Louis said. “I’m parsing something quite complicated here, and it is not the same. I have made conditions. There are certain things I will not permit you to do. Certain ways you are not to speak to me, impositions, including sexual impositions, that I will not let you make. That problem of mine, it does not… it does not permit all else.”

That was enormous. It was patently unfair that he said it in this moment because it was so enormous and I was already so weak. But it was also necessary that he said it, because it was true. I swallowed hard but I did not let myself react. “Yes,” I said. “Yes, I know.”

“I will not accept things as they used to be,” Louis said. “I was about to say that I cannot, but that is not the truth, and that is the crux of what I am saying here. The truth is that I will not. I have learned, I think, to consider that I might value the fact that I do not want to. But I also hesitate because I fear it’s… Bartleby the Scrivener in a very particular setting. Because if I’d prefer not to, I’m not sure I can prefer anything. Does that make sense to you?”

I was too tired to figure out what that meant, or which part of this I was most upset by. All of it, certainly, but also by each part of it individually at the same time. My heart clenched and unclenched around each particular and it made it hard to look at him. But I made myself do that anyway. Because it didn’t matter how I felt. What did matter was finally hearing what he had to say, because this would be the only chance I would get to hear it.

And I loved him, of course. I know you think that I don’t, but I do, and I loved him then, more than I ever had, loved him in the marrow of my bones, and if it hurt him then it hurt me too, and I wanted to know. “No, Louis,” I said. “It’s good to have wants. They don’t automatically lead you to complete existential failure.”

“However,” Louis said.

“However what?”

“However,” he said, “There were elements of that dynamic that I suspect… produced… something I… possibly enjoyed. Sexually speaking.”

I held my tongue. That was difficult to do, since I had two equally weighted thoughts, and one was a delighted “really!” and the other was “no fucking shit, Sherlock” in a sarcastic manner. Neither would have been appropriate.

Louis went on. “I don’t like the relationship it was part of. And that’s not a criticism of you, or not only of you. But… but.”

“I understand,” I said. “I’m with you.”

“Are you? Do you?”

“Perhaps not, but I’m following the line you’re drawing. Can you… do you mean you want me to… what do you mean?”

“I mean I’m not sure I know how to do it without the penance built in,” Louis said. “I’m not sure I know how to enjoy sex at all without some elaborate punishing construction I’ve built myself to make it acceptable. Some Kafka’s penal colony of my own making. And so part of me sincerely wonders if, by insisting upon this different relationship – and I do insist – I haven’t spoiled sex for myself forever.”

“Louis,” I said. “That’s absolutely fucking certifiable.”

“Is it?”

“How is it that I am the crazy one if you’re the one who thinks these things?”

“Well, you’re not…”

“That’s absurd. You’re insane.”

“Are you sure?” Louis said. “Are you really sure that the concepts are not mutually unintelligible?”

“No, I’m not letting you do this,” I said, before I caught myself. “I hear it. Shut up. I’m not letting you make some intellectual mess of an argument you think I’m too stupid to understand. Well, I do understand, and it’s your argument that is stupid, not me.”

“I don’t think that…”

“You’re absolutely fucking filthy, you depraved slutty idiot. You’re the horniest person I’ve ever met. Nobody and nothing on this earth could have stopped you from liking sex. These past few months should have proven that. You’re just a little bit anxious about it at the moment, and that’s absolutely alright, but I assure you it will just be temporary.”

“I beg your pardon,” Louis said. He was clearly affronted, and I knew I’d gone too far, but I wasn’t about to let him derail things.

“Nobody is punishing you!” I said. “There aren’t all these traps you imagine! It’s alright to like sex. It’s alright to like sex with a man! You’re allowed to… you’re allowed to be alive and to like to fuck and it doesn’t excuse anything! You haven’t done anything wrong, Louis!”

Louis stared at me. “You put it so… you’re so certain.”

I knew what he meant. I knew how much he wanted to say something arch about having told me so. But I wouldn’t talk about that now. I wouldn’t! “Don’t you dare get bogged down in if we’re allowed to be alive as we are,” I said. “I am too tired and I love you too much to entertain that. You are allowed, because I say so.”

“I wish it were that easy,” Louis said.

“It is that easy,” I said. “I love you with the whole of my ugly little heart, Louis. And so you are right to be on this Earth, if only for my happiness.”

“Yes, but then that begs the question of whether you… whether any of us…”

“Shut up,” I said. “If you’re going to argue that I am not right to be here, I will weep. I am too fragile for that this morning, so don’t... If you’re going to make me discuss… if you’re going to make me… if you’re going to bring up… if you do love me at all, then please grant me the kindness of saying that you’re at least glad I’m alive.”

He held more firmly on my hand against his chest. “You will never know how glad,” he said. “But that…”

“Then shut up,” I said. “I’m almost already crying. Shut up.”

I meant it. I’d fought so hard not to cry all evening, but it felt so close to me now that I even felt myself sniffling, like a sad little child. It is possible that a tear or two did fall, actually, but I certainly didn’t acknowledge them. Even then I refused to let myself be that pathetic.

But “please don’t,” Louis said, so tenderly. He had let go of my hand, but both of his were upon my face again, softly. He kissed my cheek, high up on the bone, like he’d done to the girl at the bar. “Please don’t cry, monsieur,” he was saying. “Everything is alright.”

“Then don’t do this,” I insisted. “Just… we are here, Louis. We’re here, and I want to be here with you, and I want you to want to be too.”

“I do want to be here. Very much.”

“Good then,” I said. “That’s enough. Please let it be enough.”

He didn’t answer that. He did stoke me though. Softly, feather light. I still felt like crying. I shut my eyes, though I found I had to open them again to implore him.

“We can do better,” I said. “We can do those things when we want to do them, we can talk about them and manage it like adults. I’ll fuck you exactly like you want me to and if it’s awkward for a while then, well, it will just be a little awkward for a while. We can tolerate that, can’t we? We have the language.”

Let’s do it now, I almost said. But thankfully, I didn’t.

“I don’t…” Louis said. “I don’t find that easy. Discussing such… fleshy concerns. As you know. It’s not my forte, I’d say if I were you.”

What a way to say it. “I know, chéri,” I said. “I know you don’t. But some things are worth doing, even if they are hard. Haven’t you said that? Aren’t you saying that to me?”

“I wish I didn’t feel this way. It’s hypocritical of me, really, to let my own shame restrict what I communicate and what I do not, when I say what I say to you about yours.”

“Yes, well. It’s always easier to dictate than to do.”

He winced. “I am sorry,” he said, and he looked like he meant it. But I wasn’t going to let that be the end of it that.

“Why are you still ashamed?” I said. It felt so strange to ask him that. A bedtime confessional, mirrored throughout time. Lovers like us and like I had been, stretching back centuries asking the same questions. “Is it all because it’s lust or because it’s your vampire life? Or is it because… is all of this also because we’re both men?”

“I think some of it is,” Louis said. “I know what you’re going to say about that, that it’s a stupid, mortal hang-up that I shouldn’t have, and you’re right of course, but there it is just the same. A stupid human anxiety that I have always felt and that somehow still dominates my un-life.”

“You don’t really believe you’ll go to Hell for it,” I said. “Not you.”

“I never think anything so specific. This… sense of punishment is far more global than that. The sense of having made disorder in the world. Of being at odds with it. Of being so fundamentally incorrect that I have brought all of this upon myself. I don’t know.”

“Oh Louis,” I said. I moved up on my pillow so I could kiss him. He did let me. There was an edge of reluctance to it, or of despair perhaps. But he did let me.

“Oh Louis,” I said, again, stroking his cheek with my thumb. “Oh my love. You make everything so dramatic and symbolic when sometimes it’s just small and sad.”

He pressed his lips together in a resigned way. “Perhaps that’s so.”

It was polite of him not to point out my hypocrisy. Though it’s also possible he was too caught up in himself to notice it. “We’re still consumers,” I said, following him there. “And you’re still a Catholic.”

“I am not. You are, I’m not.”

“You absolutely are,” I said. “Don’t be stupid. You know you are. Don’t you know that?”

Louis didn’t answer me. He seemed far away, contemplative. But then he turned his face back to me, set his sparkling eyes upon me, and for some strange reason, I held my breath. “In San Francisco, I did try,” he said. “It was the writing, and the music, and that it was entirely new to me, but also it was… I wanted to go where I could love men. Where it would not be entirely out of place to do so. A lot of things were beautiful there, and I was so past caring about any of it. It was easy to be convinced. I tried to let myself be convinced. And sometimes I succeeded.”

“I know that,” I said. “You met Daniel in a bar. It was 1976, Louis. You talked to him in a bar in the fashionable part of San Francisco in 1976. Do you think I don’t know what kind of bar it was? That I don’t know what you went there to do?”

“I went there to kill someone,” he said. “To murder someone in order to sustain my own cowardly life.”

“That’s not all,” I said. “And you know it isn’t and you just admitted it too. You went there to kiss boys. And you think it’s the same thing, but it isn’t. Because it’s alright to kiss boys, Louis. God doesn’t think like you think about it. That’s a mistake. We were taught something that is not true.”

“Perhaps,” Louis said. And he looked strange and embarrassed, but then he smiled. He looked at me and he smiled. “You’re not afraid of anything, are you?”

His gaze was one of admiration, and ordinarily I would have liked it. Ordinarily when he looked at me that way, awed and trusting like that, I felt pleased with myself and pleased about the world. But it seemed wrong now. It seemed not truthful.

“You think I never…” I said. “I made up my mind not to care, don’t you see? I wasn’t going to let something so stupid as people’s opinions stop me if I was in love. It’s not because I never… of course I was afraid.”

I’d expected that confession to have more impact than it did. It made a lot of impact upon me to say.  But Louis spoke as if he hadn’t heard me. “It’s just that you always seemed fearless. As if you were daring people to try something. As if you thought it would be funny if they did.”

“People died for it, Louis,” I said. “Even in Paris. Let alone in the country.”

“Of course I know that, but…”

“And my father… said… he told me… when I…”

I couldn’t finish that. But it seemed I didn’t have to. I suppose Louis had heard me at last, because he curled his hand into mine and squeezed it. I squeezed back. His fingers felt warm to me, and I didn’t know why they did. His eyes were so wide when he looked at me. Quietly. Waiting. I felt the need to be soft with him, and I felt, again, the need to tell the truth.

“So I understand you,” I said. “I’ll admit that I do. I’m not going to say what you think I’m going to say this time. Not anymore. I’ll admit it instead.”

Louis kissed me this time. He moved forward to do it and I held my breath again, it was that sweet. “It’s you,” he said. “You. You were not fearless, but instead very brave.”

“No, I was just in love. There was nothing brave about it. It wasn’t a choice to be in love.”

“Of course there was something brave about it,” Louis said. “Isn’t that what we’re doing here together, discovering just that? Doesn’t everything we’ve talked about tonight tell you? To love another person, to commit to loving them truly and honestly is an act of such bravery, just because to be in love is to accept that you not only want to be alive, but that you have designs on how you want to live?”

“You really think so, don’t you?” I said. It made me grin. No doubt incredulously, though I would have tried to temper that, just a little. Nobody else could have made it that dramatic, but that wasn’t his fault. “You really think it’s brave just to be in love.”

“Yes,” he said, seriously.

“You really think that?”

“You’re brave to be here with me,” he said.

“Oh, stop.”

“You’ve been brave all your life,” he said. “And I want to be brave as well.”

My grin fell right off me. That declaration had pierced my heart and I couldn’t be anything but serious. I must have stared at him. I must have gazed in utter wonder. I could never love somebody as much as this, I thought. Nobody could ever be so gentle and so earnest or sway me so fundamentally as he did without even trying to. Certainly, nobody else could have made me admit any of these soft and vulnerable things. Nobody else could have made me want to admit them.  

“But you’re already brave, mon cher,” I said. “Everything you’ve told me is brave. I’m more proud of you than you’ll ever know. And I want to fuck you like you want to be fucked. I don’t want you to regret any of this, what you’ve said to me.”

“Well,” he said, and he then grinned himself, suddenly, and it startled me. I’d forgotten he could do that. I’d forgotten his face could even move. “Perhaps we can negotiate.”

“Negotiate what, Louis? I told you what I’d do.”

“Because you like it as well, don’t you?” he said. “Being put in your place, during sex.”

I felt like I could blush. My heart felt hot enough to make me. It’s even possible I was blushing, though perhaps not very likely. I certainly spoke like the sort of person who blushed, however. “Louis!” I said. “Louis!”

“Oh, isn’t it true?”

“No,” I said.

“Not true at all?”

“Shut up!”

“What a sweet little discovery that was,” he said. “What a sweet little thing you are.”

“Just you shut up right now.”

He smiled so indulgently. “As you wish.”

I scowled, but I didn’t really mean it. “Well maybe you make me feel like I could be sweet,” I said. “Like maybe I’m not all over evil after all.”

“And you make me feel that I could be interested for all eternity,” he said. “Even if nothing else was interesting, I could always be discovering more about you. You can change, you know. I once thought you couldn’t, but you can.”

I didn’t even have the wherewithal to be embarrassed at him saying that. Obviously, telling you about it now I am so embarrassed by it I have earnestly considered not telling you, and the fact that I am telling you has begun to make me wish I still had the capacity to make earnest suicide attempts with the possibility of success. But I wasn’t embarrassed then, not at all. This is all so saccharine and I so very soft that it seems that it could barely have happened. And it did happen. Worse was about to happen. But somehow, in that time I was not ashamed of anything. I just stared at him, stunned and in love until he kissed me.

I kissed him back. We pressed our bodies together and entangled each other in our arms and kissed and kissed and kissed. I gasped from it. When we broke apart, his face was pink and warm and his arms were still around me and I wanted to stay there forever. I felt as if I had already half bled into him, but I wasn’t afraid. It made me honest in a way that hurt. “Louis,” I said. “I do like it but it… it makes me…”

“I know,” Louis said. “I know.”

“I didn’t even say what it was!”

“You’re so…” Louis said. “You’re just so… I want to be… more careful with you.”

“You’re careful already.”

“No,” Louis said. “Listen to me. I will. I will be careful with you. You’re so dear to me.”

I couldn’t say anything to that. I think my face must have done something dramatic, because Louis smiled at me sympathetically and touched me and told me it was alright. “Be calm,” he said. “It’s alright.”

“I know it is,” I said. Snapped, really. But he didn’t react to that.

“It was brave of you to stop,” he said. “I know it was hard for you. I’m glad you did.”

Oh, but I had no chance coming out of this alive. My heart had cracked and the liquid of it lit my chest up from the inside and my eyes welled and I had to blink my tears away again. “Louis…”

“I know,” he said.

“No, but Louis…”

“I do know, monsieur.”

“Your petit monsieur.”

“Mon petit monsieur.”

I buried into him. I pushed my nose into the crook of his shoulder. “Is it really brave just to be in love?”

Louis seemed to hold all of his breath inside his body for a moment. “Yes it is,” he said when he let it out. His arms were around me, strong.

“Are we really in love then?” I asked him.

“Yes,” Louis said. “We are really very much in love.”

So you can say what you will about our thoughts and prayers. Don’t you see it? Don’t you understand? Between us, we earnestly believed we could clean up the gulf.

[colourinside]

Reticence

Another drabble, thought I’d share :) 

The first time Lestat kissed Louis he sparked a smothering passion in him. But instead of acknowledging his desire, Louis recoils, coldly avoiding Lestat in his attempt to forgive himself.  

Interview with the Vampire

Lestat/Louis; Lestat’s POV

Word Count: 764

There had been this silence between us, that I would try to laugh away. But my laughing at the silence would make it deeper and my pain would sound in that terrible echo like the shattering of glass. Sometimes I would catch him wandering the streets, looking like an apparition in the teardrop rain. And he would look through me as if I was but another stranger passing him by. At times I let him despise me, let him stare past me, let him be curt or altogether immune to my trying to converse with him; and out of spite, I would dismiss his ignorance, trying to convince myself that it didn’t hurt me. In those moments, I couldn’t bear to think that he hated me, that I had done something to him that he loathed me for. And in turn, I loathed myself, for I had caused this reticence, yet how could I have foreseen? He had given me no indication that it would end in this; this unreasonable stupor. At any moment, I awaited his word to have me removed and I kept being astounded by the fact that he let me be, as if he knew he had no power now to decide whether I would stay or go. Often, I was certain that he would rather have me gone, as he could barely stand to even look at me, but there was a kind of pain in his expression too, and it allowed me to hope. I reminded myself to be patient, even though with every night he carried on this way, my so-called patience was wearing thinner and my anger and frustration at his state of mind burst through.

Finally, the time did come when he would talk to me again, acknowledge my presence, listen to me playing the piano. He wouldn’t come into the room, but I knew that he was standing at the door and somehow, I thought that he was trying to make himself known to me, as if even he had finally grown weary of avoiding me. I found myself greatly content about this development, I was happy whenever he said a few genuine words to me and they seemed to fill an emptiness I had never acknowledged inside me. I tried to laugh again, make him laugh with me and sometimes he smiled. This was when I had asked him to join me at the theatre. And to my surprise, he had accepted my invitation.

 I watched him more than I watched the play that night. The play really was the opposite of remarkable, but the way he catalogued intently every pose, every gesture, every phrase, was a marvel to me. He only stirred when I laughed at the clumsy delivery of a poorly written line, his brow furrowed, but he didn’t turn to look at me, didn’t chastise me, as I tried but failed to conceal my amusement. My attention was immediately drawn back to his face, then to the hand that rested on his thigh, as if he was pushing himself forward in his seat in a feeble attempt to see better. I looked back at the stage, at the plump actress in her vibrant blue dress, embroidered with gold, trying to balance her enormous hair-do while she was singing a ballad, putting too much effort in her vibrato. I couldn’t help but chuckle. I didn’t really want to look at her. Instead, I moved my hand, slowly, closer to his, sinking a little deeper into my seat, so I could reach better. Somehow, this filled me with a kind of tension that I could not understand. I was hesitant now, my hand so close to his, my fingers almost touching his skin. And finally, I let them. I brushed the back of his hand, carefully, and noticed him flinch just slightly with surprise. I put my hand on top of his and I felt him stir. At first, I thought he was going to pull back, but instead, he turned his hand, so he could hold mine, locking our fingers together. Not once while doing this did he fully avert his eyes from the stage. He remained staring, even more intently now it seemed, at the actors and the dancers, but he held my hand tightly in his. It made me smile. I looked at our joined hands resting on his thigh and I looked back at the stage, no longer fully comprehending the content of the play, but I did not care. I still smiled all the way through.

[captainlilyuniverseworld]

Happy

I was asked for some Lestat and Louis, with Louis listening to Lestat play and feeling helplessly in love with him and a happy ending by @curious-trickster . This is the result :) 

Hope you enjoy~

Fandom: The Vampire Chronicles

Pairing: Lestat x Louis

Happy 

Louis woke up like he always does. In a large bed, with thick quilts and comforters the color of blood with gold trim. Thick black, light blocking curtains plunging the room into darkness. And alone.

Sometimes, if he’s lucky, as he slowly awoke from the dead sleep he can just barely feel the bed dip as Lestat slips from under the covers and leaves the room. Tonight was not one of those nights.

Louis debated on just lying there. Maybe for the whole night. There’s a book he’s been meaning to finish, but he’s hungry and that propels him out of bed. He took his time as he dressed, settling on a pair of worn slim fitting jeans and a slightly too big dark grey sweater.

He didn’t stay out long, just enough time to find a few of the homeless to feed on. Their blood tinged with alcohol. It always left him feeling light.

Pliable, Lestat’s voice echoed in his hand and Louis rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hands as he made his way back to their home.

He stepped in and paused in the foyer as he heard a deep melody. He couldn’t remember the last time the piano was played in the home. He walked slowly down the hall and paused in the doorway of the sitting room.

Lestat sat in front of the piano, dressed in his thin white shirt with the sleeves pushed up and a pair of slacks on. His head moved to the melody, and Louis could see his eyes were closed as he played, surrendering to the music.

His skin was flushed. His cheeks tinged a light pink, thin nimble fingers flitting over the keys coaxing the melody from the piano they’d had for God knows how long.

Louis’s gaze drifted to the small settee placed strategically next to the piano. He could still see Claudia, their Claudia stretched out, watching Lestat as he played. Holding her doll to her chest with a smile.

He himself would be sitting in the window with a book tucked under his chin. Lestat would be trying to get him to join in. With enough coaxing from Claudia, he’d join them. Only she wasn’t there anymore. She hadn’t been for decades.

Lestat made no acknowledgment of his presence and Louis wanted to touch him. He wanted Lestat to touch him. He hated the fire that burned for him. The way Lestat could make him feel.

The song came to end and they were plunged into silence.

“I miss her,” Louis found himself breaking the silence and hugged himself to keep from reaching Lestat.

He couldn’t remember the last time he carded his fingers through the blond tresses. Lestat ran a finger over the keys. Not playing, just touching.

“I want another.” The words came out of Louis’s mouth before he could stop himself.

Lestat lifted his head and turned to look at Louis. He looked ready to spit fire, but there was something, something he saw in Louis’s face that made him pause. He swung his legs over the bench and was suddenly standing so close to Louis he had to take a small step back.

Lestat caught him by the shirt to stop him from going any further.

“If I recall,” Lestat leaned in, “you were rather against the idea of Claudia in the first place. Called me a monster for forcing this upon such a little girl.”

“I’ve called you a monster numerous times,” Louis pointed out. “And…I am allowed to change my mind.”

“Yes, but why?” Lestat asked. He let Louis go and took a step back. “Have you had to many homeless men again Louis? Is their alcohol-filled blood clouding your judgment? Are you going to pretend this conversation never happened tomorrow evening when you’re mind is clear?”

Louis tried not to flinch at the message under his words and hugged himself. He shook his head. “No…I don’t intend to change my mind….I…loved Claudia Lestat. I loved her as much as you did and…” He hesitantly reached out to place a hand over Lestat’s heart. “I’ve felt an emptiness that can’t be filled no matter how much I’ve tried.”

Lestat’s gaze softened and Louis didn’t register the tear that clung to his lashes until Lestat brushed his thumb under his eyes catching the droplets.

“Oh Louis,” he murmured and drew Louis to him.

Louis fit his head in the crook of Lestat’s neck and took a deep breath.

“I would’ve thought,” Lestat ran his fingers through Louis’s hair, “you of all people would’ve taken the rules to heart.”

“Rules be damned,” Louis pulled away and put his back to Lestat. “What have rules ever done for us? I know you’re unhappy just as I am. I know you miss her, no matter how much you try to act like you hated her.”

“Of course I miss her Louis,” Lestat said gently.

He came up behind Louis. “Just like I miss you.”

“I was never gone Lestat,” Louis turned his head to look at him.

“Haven’t you been?” Lestat tucked a stray hair from his face. “I feel as if there is an open chasm between us.”

“I was not the one who put it there,” Louis replied. “You pushed me away Lestat.”

“You pushed me away first,” Lestat told him. “I tried, but you shut me out, Louis.”

Lestat had him there.

“You’re right…I…I did push you away Lestat,” Louis admitted and reached up to clasp Lestat’s hand in his own. “But I’m not going to push you away anymore. I want us to be closer Lestat.”

Lestat’s gaze softened as he stroked Louis’s cheek. He leaned in and brushed their lips together. Louis leaned in and tangled his fingers into Lestat’s hair.

“Oh Louis,” Lestat’s murmured and dropped his hands to Louis’ waist to pull him closer. He kissed the crook of his neck and pulled away with a small smile. “Do you really want this?”

Louis’s lips twitched, the sentence brought back memories of their first meeting.

“I do,” he answered. “I want this…I want you.”

Lestat smiled. “You have no idea how happy that makes me Louis.”

[vcsecretgifts]

Winter Shopping

This is my exchange for sanguinivora. Hope you enjoy!

———–

“This isn’t…what I had in mind,” Louis murmured, so quietly that even Lestat could pretend that he hadn’t heard. The air around them was crisp and cool, mid-December outside of London, the sort that promised snow but never actually delivered. It felt delicious over vampire skin, skin that didn’t feel the cold as discomfort but simply as a unique sensation. There were far enough outside the big city that there was a certain sort of peace, which was a rarity for any large city and especially for this one at holiday time. On first observation, it would seem that Lestat had chosen a place better suited to his fledgling’s taste, the relative quiet away from the rush and lights of a London unaccustomed to sleep. But as they stood beside one another, close but not touching, they were both looking up at the facade of a building that housed people furiously fascinated by them and people Louis was just as furiously eager to keep away from.

Lestat, for his part, was beaming as his eyes scanned over the walls as though for the first time. The Talamasca Motherhouse was one of those structures that had history just oozing out from between its bricks, the kind of place that looked like it should have a plaque and postcards and a guided tour three times a day. It obviously didn’t, private and legally nearly invisible. And Lestat initially pretended that he hadn’t heard Louis’ comment, but then realizing he’d have to start a brand new conversation, decided that Louis’ murmur was as good a jumping off point as any. Comebacks were a specialty of his. 

“Well, we couldn’t exactly get David’s things back if we didn’t go to the place they’re holding onto them, Louis. It was a very good idea of yours, getting back something he had before. Now here we are. A Christmas miracle.” Lestat turned his head to grin at Louis, his signature expression meeting Louis’ signature raised eyebrows.

“Stop calling everything dangerous ‘a Christmas miracle,’” he said, voice only a little louder than it had been before. “When I said we should get David something he’d had in his office, the things he’d told us about, I meant getting something just like them, not the exact thing! Maybe shopping online, not coming here!” He gestured briefly, sharply, toward the house before crossing his arms over his chest. His white hand was like its own ghostly apparition in the dark. 

“First off, you’re very bad at online shopping,” Lestat pointed out. “Remember the porn edition of ‘The Great Gatsby?’ Unless you were lying and that was exactly the book you were trying to buy and you were just embarrassed when I opened it.” He held his finger up to stop the automatic, pedestrian argument here- that he shouldn’t have been opening packages addressed to Louis. “Secondly, I feel that it would be something of a disappointment to get him something that only seemed like his own personal item, and then for it to be a copy. A lot of things have more meaning because they’re originals. Oil paintings, first edition books.” 

Louis exhaled slowly, the soft sound of reluctant agreement. It was so hard when Lestat was right. While attachment to physical objects had never been his strong suit, he couldn’t deny the allure of touching things with sentiment and history; sometimes even now, he trailed his fingers along the aged bricks of a building as he walked through the streets of New Orleans simply because the building had stood while he was mortal and those bricks might have retained some sense of his humanity as he passed them by. 

So now he nodded, though he wouldn’t give Lestat the satisfaction of more agreement than that. Lestat felt the movement beside him and reached for Louis’ hand to pull him toward the house. Not ready to be quite that accommodating, Louis made sure he was just out of reach. Determined not to be sullen over that little pout, Lestat stepped forward so he was walking a little ahead of him. Neither of them were bothered by the security system, no matter how closely they were supposedly observed, or how many strange creatures were supposedly programmed into everything to keep them out. 

Lestat had learned a long time ago that things never kept him out. The universe had handed him a key to every door, every lock, and it was himself. The universe had handed Louis a weakness, Lestat realized as he walked down a hallway and turned to see that Louis was no longer behind him. He’d always thought that he was Louis’ biggest weakness, but it was, and had always been, books.

The Talamasca motherhouse was absolutely filthy with books. There were more books than people, there were more books than furniture. There were books neatly catalogued in libraries, there were books open in stands for studying, there were books in private desks and propping up other books on private shelves. There were books stacked up in forgotten heaps in cellar rooms beside boxes of artifacts, all carefully labeled if there was anyone who was even interested anymore. 

While historical odds and ends were great to play with, he was keener to get his hands on his fledgling, who had likely been snagged by a sexy title with the word “history” or “rime” or “volume 46” in it. Lestat could picture it, suddenly, the way Louis would be lost in a moment, with his hair mussed and his mouth slightly open, standing before the table or the bookcase. 

It was as much the desire to see him that way as actually getting what they came here for and getting out unseen (this part of the house, the western wing, was so quiet with so many scholars taking some time away for the holidays). Lestat crept through rooms that were as neat and put away, enjoying the act of knocking a few things off a desk, switching the order of journals when they were carefully numbered. There were rooms that were paper disasters, with computers that were covered in manila folders and handwritten notes. He wasn’t even sure how to disturb them; they were so disturbed already. He didn’t blame them though. If he had set his whole life to studying eternal and frustrating creatures, and wasn’t one himself, he was sure he wouldn’t be one of the ones with the tidy offices. David, as he recalled, had been a very tidy scholar, with just those little notes poking out of journals to hint that there was something more there. 

An hour’s search found him nothing, and Lestat told himself that he should not be concerned. Louis was clever enough not to be caught, though perhaps he was too passive to keep himself from being locked in and then much too polite to break a door. He’d count on Lestat to break a door. That’s what being a lover was. Knowing which one would be the one to break things, which one would be the one to kiss first, which one would need rescuing. 

Lestat amused himself with all of this, but he still needed to find Louis. He considered texting him, then laughed aloud at the thought. That would have required Louis first of all have his phone, second of all have it charged, and then last he’d have to actually check it. It was down to searching. He couldn’t imagine that Louis would have gotten out of the west wing; he had to have been taken by something shortly after they’d walked in. The problem was that he was quiet normally. David was quiet, but those manners of his made him announce whenever he entered or left a room. It was Louis who appeared and disappeared. Sometimes it seemed it happened in the middle of a conversation. Maybe this would be the time Lestat would make good on his threat to put a bell on him.

He felt the approach of someone, a lone mortal heading back to an office for something forgotten. Lestat briefly entertained the thought of stepping right out in front of her (“Surprise! Merry Christmas!”), but since he’d already managed to lose Louis, it seemed like maybe this time he should keep his head down and just let her pass by without letting her see him. He did grin to himself when he saw which office she stepped into; so she was the neat type who was about to be confronted with a particularly dirty French joke for 1814 scrawled on her dry erase board. Chuckling to himself, Lestat stole down the hall in the opposite direction. 

Another hour of searching and there was no smile left on his face. Dawn came early for Louis still, and Lestat’s overactive imagination was giving him very clear pictures of Louis sprawled on the floor for some other scholar to find, or slumped against the bookshelf, chin on his chest and his pale hand crumpling pages of the book fallen to his lap. That was the horror of it. Someone else finding him, obviously, not the wrinkled pages, though he knew several people in his life would debate that.

It was frustrating to him that his mind kept flashing between amusing comments, as though he was narrating for someone else’s amusement, and then horrible potential outcomes that were real and very possible. How did he just…lose Louis? Or had Louis lost him? Was Louis already outside? Where the hell could he even hope to find anything David had left behind? He hadn’t made it past this one wing, wasting his time walking back and forth over the same space hoping to come across a room he’d missed.

The image came to him again, Louis unaware of the rest of the world because a book had come between him and reality. The way to tell what was going on in a text was to watch Louis’ dark eyebrows. They were fine and gently winged, a shape that leant itself to emotion. While sitting in his chair, head nearly resting against the side as though he’d do something to sweetly mortal as fall asleep reading in the evening at home, he would stay incredibly still, nothing moving except his finger to turn a page when he’d finished it and his eyebrows reacting to whatever was happening in the plot. Lestat paused and leaned back against the wall in the hallway, head against the wallpaper and eyes closed. Maybe it was just the mood of the Motherhouse, a place he admittedly didn’t have extensive experience with, but it seemed to dampen emotions, with its quiet old beams and walls and smells. In a strange way, Louis seemed like he could belong somewhere like this, that it wasn’t so much lost as seamlessly blending into a place that was ordered like his soul, curious but contained. 

“Lestat!” The whisper was sharp and carried, his name as only one person said his name. Lestat’s eyes were open immediately and he turned his head to see Louis walking down the hall toward him. “What are you doing? Did you get lost?”

Louis reached him and immediately put a hand on his arm, eyebrows betraying his concern. Lestat laughed, louder than he meant to, shaking his head when Louis’ expression grew confused.

“You’re worried about me? You think I got lost?” he asked. Louis glanced back down the hall.

“Hush! We’re likely on camera and, if not, you’re loud enough to attract attention. I don’t want to know what you’ve been doing. Let’s just go, hmm?” Louis’ scolding was its own gift, and Lestat let himself be led back down the hall. He was pretty sure, as he looked around, that he’d never even made it out of this same hall the entire time they’d been here.

“Oh! David’s gift!” he finally protested, setting his heels. “We’ve wasted all this…what?” Louis was rolling his eyes, a surprisingly modern gesture from him. He hadn’t done that in at least the first hundred years they’d known one another. Too impolite. Now, apparently, it was fair game. “What?”

“I’ve already done it,” Louis said, pulling on Lestat’s arm again. 

“You? You found it? Where?” Lestat asked, making it difficult to walk with him through habit. “What is it? A letter opener? A snowglobe? A pack of cards?”

“No…what?” Louis looked over at him as they got to the doors, still slightly propped by a rock Lestat had kicked into place when they walked in. “This is the stupidest thing we’ve done. And we’ve handled it poorly, just wandering around. We’ve been here hours.”

“Louis. What did you get?” Lestat stopped him, hand on the door in front of him. “A lighter. You’d do that. You got an old vintage lighter.” The fire jokes never got old.

Louis reached into his jacket pocket and held up a metal bookmark. It was old and tarnished, not something as fine as Lestat would have expected the Talamascan to have kept. The shape of it was pleasing, though, the curved top and the way the light caught on the simple font of the engraving as he held it out to Lestat.

“‘To our David on his birthday. Never lose your curiosity,’” Lestat read aloud, then met Louis’ eyes. “From his parents? Grandparents?”

Louis shrugged and smiled a little as he tucked it away again. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I bet he’ll love to tell us.”

Lestat groaned as he opened the door, shaking his head as he let Louis walk out before him. See? He had manners too. “You’re so damned thoughtful, Louis. From now on, I’m taking you with me for all my illegal shopping.” Grinning to himself, he slapped the alarm button by the door on his way out, beaming when Louis’ bright, wide eyes were focused on him again. The klaxon roared through the building. “Uh oh, Louis. We’d better get moving.” 

Ignoring Louis’ outraged sputtering, he grabbed onto his hand and pulled him out onto the broad lawn, dragging him as he started running. He loved the way it felt to laugh and run, the sound torn away from his mouth into the night. He loved the way Louis’ fingers clutched his a little, the sound Louis had made, the way Louis would shoot him little glaring glances all night once they were back at the hotel. This was his gift to himself, with memories he’d store up for when they’d had one of their falling outs (which were bound to happen). He would keep the sensation of Louis’ hand in his, his startled eyes when the alarm went, the softness in his smile when he revealed what he’d found of David’s in some storeroom somewhere. Lestat had been right about the building; it had welcomed Louis, and Louis, annoyed as he was now, had enjoyed his silent stay there.

It didn’t take them that long to put enough distance between themselves and the Motherhouse (Were they reviewing the tapes now? Whose ass was on the line for the micro-invasion?), and Louis was the one to slowed to a walk, knowing Lestat would temper his own speed. They walked in silence, and while he felt Lestat deserved it, Louis didn’t pull away from him. The grass beneath their boots seemed crisp and sharp, with the frost that had covered everything. It wasn’t snow, but it still made the night glisten slightly. Magical enough for them. 

Lestat was quiet, and for a few minutes Louis wondered if they would have the night like this, just a time of being together away from everything else, listening to the sounds of winter. Eventually they would have to take to the air, since Lestat preferred that to a taxi. But for now, it felt like some sort of holiday, something private and sacred and silent. 

The quiet couldn’t last, and Louis wasn’t actually surprised when it was broken. Lestat was too pleased with himself to stay silent.

“Your hand’s like ice!” he said with a lopsided grin to the side. He watched Louis’ profile, his fine features and the tiny smile he was trying to hide.

“So get me gloves for Christmas,” Louis murmured, still looking ahead as they walked. The breeze caught his hair and he ducked his head to avoid it blowing over his eyes.

“Maybe I have better ways to warm you for Christmas,” Lestat murmured back, leaning in toward him. Louis’ hair smelled good, smelled like something expensive that, oh, hmm, perhaps his lover had bought for him. 

“Lestat, stop it.” Louis’ smile was audible, even as he pushed the other vampire away with a light hand. “You can’t talk like that. We’re in England.”

[prouvaireafterdark]

Number 2! 🖤

“Are you sure? Once we start, I might not be able to stop.”

Thanks for the prompt! Also decided to combine this one with another request, which was #17: "You taste like fucking candy."

Also on AO3!

***

“Are you sure?” Louis asked, eyes caught on Lestat’s throat where his pulse jumped beneath his skin. They were tangled in bed together, naked and spread out on silk sheets, and Louis was ravenous with hunger. “Once we start, I might not be able to stop.”

Lestat laughed then, amusement shining brightly in his iridescent eyes when Louis met his gaze. 

“Fear not, Saint Louis. I’ll stop you myself if you start to take too much,” he said, reaching up to run his knuckles affectionately along the edge of Louis’ jaw, all the way down to the point of his chin. “Besides, the pleasure we will feel will be more than worth it, I can promise you that.”

Louis searched his lover’s face for the barest trace of uncertainty or apprehension, but found only pure, unadulterated desire reflected back at him. He nodded after a moment, sufficiently persuaded that he could trust Lestat to stop him if he needed to. 

He took a fortifying breath before he at last allowed his fangs to lengthen into fine points. As he bared them, he watched Lestat’s pupils blow wide as they fixed on his mouth. He felt the hard length of Lestat’s cock jump with anticipation where it lay trapped between their bodies. 

“Yes, that’s it, Louis,” he sighed, tipping his head back against the green silk pillow case as his body rolled up against him, his legs falling further open around Louis’ hips. Louis felt Lestat’s hand on the back of his neck next, gently guiding him to where he needed him. “Take me. I’m yours.”

Louis lowered his head under Lestat’s direction and brought his mouth to his throat. He pressed a tender kiss to Lestat’s flushed skin before he let his jaw drop and sank his teeth into his neck.

Louis and Lestat moaned in tandem as his fangs penetrated his flesh, the sound echoing in the room around them. Ancient blood flowed over Louis’ tongue, thick and warm and sweeter than any he’d yet tasted. He drank from him in long, greedy pulls, the whole world drowned out by the pounding drum of Lestat’s heart and the transcendent pleasure of the swoon rising inside him. 

He felt at once like he was floating up to the ceiling and falling down, down, down into a well with no bottom, where the only things he knew were the heavenly taste of Lestat’s immortal blood and the sweet friction of his body as he writhed in ecstasy beneath him.

“Louis,” Lestat whimpered in his ear, his hands everywhere at once, first clutching at the back of Louis’ head to press him closer and then running along the expanse of his back, sharp nails catching over his skin whenever Louis drank a little too deep. 

Louis lost himself utterly to the pleasure of it, feeling time stretch around him—seconds into minutes, minutes into hours. It seemed as if the well would never run dry, the flow of Lestat’s blood as endless as the eternity they had before them, until at last Lestat’s voice cut through the rushing in his ears.

“That’s enough, Louis” he was saying, “that’s enough.”

With great difficulty, Louis wrenched his mouth away from Lestat’s bleeding throat, his chest heaving as he desperately took in air he didn’t need. Lestat pulled him immediately into a kiss with one hand, licking greedily into his mouth for a taste of himself, while his other hand tightened where he had wrapped it around Louis’ leaking cock. 

Louis groaned low and desperate into the kiss as the swoon faded and he registered the pleasure of Lestat’s touch, and it was between deep, wet kisses and a well-timed twist of Lestat’s wrist that Louis came long and hard against the taut plane of his stomach. When Louis came back to himself, he reached down between their bodies to return the favor, but he found Lestat already spent, the soft head of his cock slick with his release. 

“Damn, you came already?” Louis pulled away to ask. Lestat’s face was pale—well, paler than usual—but there was a blissed out smile on his face.

“Like I said,” Lestat panted as he stared up at him with adoration in his eyes. “More than worth it.” 

A soft laugh bubbled up from Louis’ chest.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “That was intense.”

“Mhm,” Lestat hummed, tracing idle patterns across his shoulder with the tip of his finger.  “We can try it the other way too, if you like. I know how you love being at my mercy.”

A shiver ran down Louis’ spine at the thought. Would Lestat drink from him while he fucked him? Would he come untouched like Lestat had or would Lestat have to work him through it after he had had his fill, Louis too weak from the blood loss to do much more than lie there and take it? A sudden rush of desire swelled inside him as he longed to find out. 

“Don’t worry, mon cher,” Lestat said, taking his silence as apprehension. “You will feed very well before we try.”

That was a thought Louis did not relish, and so he nodded before changing the subject. 

“Hey, why’s your blood so sweet to me now?” Louis asked, glancing down to where Lestat’s neck was still bleeding sluggishly as his flesh began to knit itself back together. He couldn’t resist leaning in to lap at the wound again, Lestat’s blood too precious to waste. “I don’t remember it tasting like that when you turned me. You taste like fucking candy now.”  

Lestat’s laugh was rich and warm. “Your senses have changed very much since that night at the church, Louis. The blood of a vampire always tastes sweet to their own kind.”

“Why?” Louis asked, curiosity evident in his voice. As a new vampire, he was eager for every scrap of information Lestat could give him about their true nature.

“I don’t know,” Lestat sighed, sounding bored by the question until his lips lifted into a grin. “Perhaps to make our sweet couplings sweeter still.”

Louis snorted and Lestat smothered the sound with a kiss, seemingly set on ending the conversation there, but Louis still had questions. 

“Would my blood taste like that to you now?” he asked between kisses and Lestat sighed against his mouth.

“I’m sure you will taste exquisite to me, mon cher, but not quite as sweet,” Lestat told him. “My vintage has had more time to mature. Perhaps in another century or two.”

“You’ll have to let me know,” Louis teased, knocking their noses together before he pulled back to watch his face.

Lestat’s grin was a force to be reckoned with as he rolled Louis onto his back, as it always was whenever Louis made mention of their long future together. He settled on top of Louis with an almost boyish enthusiasm, his thighs spread wide where he straddled Louis’ lap.

Louis’ hands instinctively flew to his hips, but Lestat intercepted them. He pinned their joined hands above Louis’ head, his face coming close enough to Louis’ that he could feel his breath on his cheek.

“I will,” he said, and sealed the promise with a kiss.

[vampiresman]

The Club and Beyond. (TLA Ch. 2)

Up above, blending within the crowded walkways of the second floor, a man stands amongst the shadows. His sharp eyes watch the dancing one, a hint of bemused curiosity in his stance. Something grows in the pit of his stomach, a feeling that causes hands to clench into fists and eyebrows to knit together. The cause of this strange feeling is an unfamiliar man. One who walks up behind Lestat, joining him in the none-too-appropriate dance. Their bodies move together, the man’s hands grasping lightly at Lestat’s hips as pale hands reach behind, curling in the blue dyed hair. From his place on the dance floor, Lestat glances up, eyes landing directly on Louis. For a split second his eyebrows furrow and his mouth opens slightly, but before he is able to properly look, Louis has disappeared.

Through the dazzling lights and a hazy mind, Lestat is unsure if what he saw was real, or just another misconception. Old ghosts roaming the dark places of a tattered mind, painful wants becoming woven into reality. His movements are distracted, disconnected from the world around him. The man behind him takes notice of this and tightens his grip on Lestat’s hips, moving to speak in his ear.

“Are you alright?” He semi-yells, voice not quite carrying over the music.

“I-i’m fine.” Lestat responds, voice impossible to hear. He shakes his head slightly, turning in the man’s arms, “we should head somewhere calmer!”

“Alright. If you want to.” Grabbing ahold of Lestat’s arm, as not to lose him in the swarm, he moves towards the exit.

Ringing. Loud and piercing, infiltrating ear drums in the sudden lack of deafening noise. An assault of quiet and freezing air. Goosebumps raise on flesh, and arms cross to keep warmth.

“Is everything alright?” Draven asks once again, joining Lestat on the slick, icy sidewalk.

“Yes. I apologize, just something about that place.” He shakes his head, looking down at the dirty, concrete path.

“I know exactly what you need.”

“What?”

“Just follow me.”

Casting a glance back at the club they have just abandoned, Lestat follows Draven down the deserted street. ~•~ “I do not think this idea is very wise,” Lestat comments, staring down at the body of a passed out person.

“Come on, it’ll help I promise. Don’t you want to enjoy yourself?” Lestat hesitates for a moment, squinting at Draven. Giving a small sigh, he gives in, leaning down. A fuzzy warmth spreads throughout his body. It buzzes in his fingertips, courses throughout his veins. Before he is done it has clouded his brain, muddling his thoughts and skewing his decisions. As time passes the effects really begin to take hold, growing stronger.

“Shall we be off?” Lestat suggests, a drunken smirk gracing his face.

“We shall,” responds Draven.

The night becomes a swirl of twisting memories. Scenes careening through an intoxicated mind. A blazing trail of burning regrets cloaked in false happiness. The spastic strobes replace flickering street lamps, cool outside air forgotten for the stuffy, smelly momentary escape. A momentary moment that lasts days. Repeating cycles to forget, to feel free, to feel alive, but most of all to feel not so alone. Bursting sparks amidst a shallow darkness- going off bright and loud, all at once, only to fizzle out and lose the light, replaced again the next night. The repetitive cycle, the dangerous cycle, lasting the course of four nights. Four nights that shift into days, days that come too quickly, arrive too soon. Days that nearly touch alabaster skin- planting their fiery kiss with feather light touches. Days that almost succeed in the downfall of a broken angel.

Days that bring concern to a silent onlooker, experiencing each night with various tones of worry- experience from a distance that alters perception. A perception that brings the need to intervene- to stop the downfall midair, to catch the broken angel before they can crumble.

It is early in the morning. Despite the nights chill, the air is gradually warming. Soon the sun will rise. Sloppily seated in a slump in a booth is Lestat. He wears nothing but a pair of low cropped skinny jeans, an unbuttoned white blouse, and black socks. His discarded shoes sit beside him. For the first time in four days he is alone, his blue haired companion nowhere to be found. If he does not leave within minutes than there is no way he will make it home. Lestat does not move. Perhaps he does not realize. With eyes glazed over he stares at an empty glass, finger tracing circles around the rim. His mouth is parted slightly in thought, an almost confused expression on his face. Perhaps he does not care. Louis casts a weary glance outside, standing from his perched position across the room. Lestat is so out of it that he doesn’t even notice him. Gently he places a light hand on Lestat’s shoulder, drawing the man out of his own mind.

“We need to get you home.” He says, just loud enough to hear. An array of emotions flash across Lestat’s face, mouth opening to speak. He is unable to get any words out. Before he can process the situation, Louis has pulled him from Club, outside into the morning air. He doesn’t allow Lestat to talk, hushing him every time he tries. By the time they manage to reach Lestat’s apartment, the sun is already beginning to peer out from behind the distant trees.

The apartment is easy to navigate, Lestat not so much. It is a struggle to drag him into his bedroom, as he seems to want to be anywhere except there.

“Lestat!” Louis exclaims, exasperation reaching its peak, “you need to get into your coffin.”

“But I don’t want to!” He sounds like a stubborn child, arms crossed, backed into the rooms corner. Louis lets out an annoyed hiss, moving toward Lestat. His hands grasp Lestat’s shoulders tightly.

“Lestat. Get. In. Your. Coffin.”

“No.” He says the word, eyes staring deep into Louis’.

“Why?” Louis is quickly becoming frustrated, “Just get in the goddamn coffin!”

“I won’t!”

“Lestat! Why?” By now they’re both yelling.

“Because you’ll leave!” There is nothing but anger in Lestat’s voice, but his eyes- his eyes are a different story. They close and Louis is left speechless.

“Lestat?” His voice is quiet.

“I’ve said too much.” He removes Louis’ hands from his shoulders, stepping aside and walking over to his coffin, “down in the basement there’s a door, you’re smart I’m sure you’ll find it, it leads out of here. You’ll end up in a cemetery.” Without another word the coffin is closed and Louis is left in a room of silence. ~~~~~

~This chapter was longer than expected and very late. Sorry bout that. I dunno when the next chapter will be up, but it’ll be sometimes in February.

[prouvaireafterdark]

Currently working on a sequel to Bury Me Deep Inside Your Heart, so here's a sneak peek!

***

When Louis woke, it was to a feather-light fingertip tracing along the curve of his eyebrow. Still slow and sluggish with sleep at this early hour, he scrunched up his face and twitched instinctively away from the touch, burrowing his face further into his pillow with his eyes still closed. He heard a familiar laugh, then, no louder than a whisper, but full of fond amusement.

Louis rolled onto his back and opened his bleary eyes to see Lestat smiling down at him, his black bathrobe pulled over his chest. He was sitting on the floor beside Louis’ coffin, his chin pillowed by his arm where it rested along its open edge.

“There he is,” said Lestat, the low timber of his voice as warm and comforting as an embrace. He reached out and let his hand come to rest over Louis’ heart, his fingers gently stroking through his chest hair. “Sleep well?”

Louis smiled at the soft, untroubled happiness in Lestat’s eyes, reminded of those early years when their nights were full of love and their arguments tended to begin and end with things as trivial as which opera to go to that evening. Becoming parents had not been without its challenges, butfor the first time in years, Louis was beginning to feel like things could really be that simple between them again. His heart ached with love at the thought.

“Mhmm,” Louis hummed, covering Lestat’s hand with his own and threading their fingers together. “You wore me out.”

“I did, didn’t I?” Lestat said, his adoring gaze shifted into something hungry and more than a little smug as he raked his eyes over Louis’ exposed chest. “But come,” Lestat said suddenly, as if shaking himself from his thoughts. “I have a surprise for you.”