Chapter Text
“And you know that 'cause you got in his head just now?”
Lestat answers, somewhat absentmindedly, eyes still on the exposed breast, on the fingers playing with it. “Vampires can read minds, mon cher.”
Her mind is filled with memories right now, memories she uses to seem exciting to him. To position her hip. To raise her chin. Delicious.
Louis stares at him, with a smile, at the corner of his mouth, doubt in his tone. “Right.” A trace of that smile vanishes, when he realizes that Lestat is serious. “And you gon' sit on that skill for how long?” Lestat quirks an eyebrow, and turns his head forward, mind still on the… interesting images in the woman’s mind. A twist in his guts, a the thought and prospect of sex.
Incredulous amusement now in Louis’ tone. “You gon’ make me beg?”
Lestat runs his tongue over his teeth, the hidden fangs itching.
Maybe?
He wonders if this was a throwaway comment, or if this is something that Louis… likes. Maybe. Needs, maybe, too.
Begging can be demeaning.
Begging can be freeing.
Begging can be cathartic.
Something to play around with, definitely.
They haven’t really explored a lot of things yet.
Nothing much beyond the first feeding, the first kill, the first… time.
Well, the second.
First time christening the bed.
And the coffin.
It’s been good.
But good is not what Lestat wants with Louis.
He wants everything.
And of course Louis wants everything right now, too.
Still high, on sensation.
Still high, on Lestat’s blood. That’ll fade.
Unfortunately, the veil of silence has descended now, fully and absolute, and Lestat misses the steady influx of images and words and desires from Louis’ mind, like a chopped-off limb.
He wonders if he should teach Louis about broadcasting.
But that would raise other questions.
He surprises himself regretting not using the last moments last night to tell Louis things directly, vaguely glad that he called him ‘mon cher’ at least.
Louis had been so hungry.
Louis had been so cute.
A baby vampire, holding on by a thread.
Lestat has the vague feeling that Louis wouldn’t appreciate being called cute.
Shame, really.
Because he is.
Sparkling green eyes, and the dark skin with a glow that highlights its depths.
The shadow of stubble still, this hint of added masculinity that scratches just softly when they kiss. Nose scrunching when he smiles and when that smile reaches his eyes.
Elegant fingers, that had held onto Lestat’s shoulders this evening when he woke, had reached up to pull him down in a kiss, bad breath be damned.
Ah yes, fresh infatuation still. New love. Nothing else matters.
Intoxicating.
They’d cuddled, for a while, and Lestat had delighted in the way Louis had sighed, there in the dark. There, where it is only the two of them, kissing softly.
There had been no rush, no expectation.
Just them, and gliding fingers.
A quiet gasp, when Lestat had put his mouth where his bite had been.
Had pressed his lips and then his tongue there.
Louis had bucked up, pushing his leg between Lestat’s. His thigh had touched Lestat’s cock.
Louis had withdrawn it, immediately, just a bit.
Lestat hadn’t said anything, and instead bent his head further, to suck on the spot, right there, until Louis had writhed under him, head thrown back, and panting, and holding Lestat’s head close, with a death-grip. He had come, with a cry, when Lestat had sunk his fangs. Right there.
Lestat had jerked himself off, while relishing the flood of emotions in the blood.
Sweet, sweet blood, his Louis’ blood.
Mixed now with his own, a heady, intoxicating and addictive elixir.
One to be savored.
One to be craved.
Louis had pulled at his wrist, to get at it.
Lestat had let him.
Another orgasm, a smaller one, as Louis had completed the circle.
Just a mouthful, and then Lestat had withdrawn his wrist, and had crawled up, to quench the instinctual disappointment with a deep kiss, eating Louis’ moans. Sharing the taste of Louis’ own orgasm in the blood.
Feeling the shivers in the body beneath him.
Lestat had drawn his tongue over Louis’ left fang, eliciting a groan, before withdrawing, with a chuckle.
He runs his tongue over his own fang again now, excitement twisting in his gut.
They’re hedonistic creatures, vampires, or at least he is.
He won’t be caught living in the shadows eating rats and fading away. No, he will enjoy life.
And Louis… Louis will, too.
He reaches for Louis’ hand when getting out of the car, and Louis ignores it, reaching for his cane instead, with a frown. Lestat watches him, for a split second, and then takes off his coat, before turning down the street, waiting for Louis to do the same.
He itches to reach for Louis’ hand again, but refrains, knowing neither society nor Louis would appreciate it right now. New Orleans may be a dream come true in regards to music, and food, but it is far from free, especially for Louis.
But he wants to nonetheless.
Teaching Louis is fun though. And he is a natural, even if he may be hung up on his morals. Morals which do not apply anymore.
And it is very sad that the veil of silence has decended indeed, and Louis likes to muse in his own private thoughts. Lestat swallows the instinctual fear and disappointment down, harshly. Stupid, really, to have hoped it would be different with him.
But isn’t thrice the charm?
And… would three be the charm?
Mais non, he hadn’t been able to hear Gabrielle and Nicolas either.
Then again, he‘d been a baby vampire then himself, a far cry from what he is now.
Would it be the same, now?
He dismisses the thought with an effort, and reaches out, to gently clasp Louis’ shoulder. “You chase after phantoms of your former self.” Those green eyes on his, wide and expressive. Listening to him, and to the mortals around them, just a bit overwhelmed. A faint blush on his cheeks. Ah yes, at least a third of thoughts are about sex, aren’t they.
Lestat hides his grin, gently steering Louis onwards down the street. “I’ll break you of it.”
Another man passes by, head full of… memories. Louis swallows, harshly.
But… maybe not of that.
Louis exhales shudderingly, suddenly seeming somewhat demure, falling a step behind Lestat, and Lestat frowns, turning towards him slightly, as to the why and…
Oh.
He turns forward again, knowing any grin in regards to Louis sporting an erection in the open would not be appreciated. At all.
A carriage passes, and Lestat takes the opportunity to pull Louis into the space between two houses, in an instant, next to trashcans and offal.
Silence, suddenly, in the weird little bubble of reality they’re in.
They’re pressed together, fitting into the small space with hardly a breath between them.
Louis’ eyes dart to the sliver of street that can be seen, to the side.
Lestat bends, to inhale against his throat.
Louis hisses at him. “Not here?!”
Lestat hums. “Why, mon cher? You cannot tell me you don’t want to?” He puts his hand onto Louis’ clothed crotch, over the hard length there.
Louis slaps his hand away. “We’re in the open.”
Lestat quirks an eyebrow, watching Louis’ eyes dart around. “No-one ever looks past the trashcans. One could see something one would not wish to see, there in the dark…n’est-ce pas?” He lets his tongue click on the last syllable of dark, licking his lips as Louis’ green eyes snap back to his. “Reading minds can be dull, and it can be exciting. It can be… inspiring.” He leans in, breathing the words against Louis’ lips. “Being inspired is never a bad thing?”
Louis grunts, trying to admonish. “Lestat!”
Lestat laughs at him, gutturally, while reaching back down to rub him, gently. “Yes?”
Louis’ eyelids flutter closed, and his mouth drops open, just a bit.
Lestat can almost taste that pink tongue. He licks his lips. “You can tell me to stop.”
Louis swallows, harshly, pressing the words out. “Would you?”
Lestat grins at him, while giving the cock another slow pump. “Yes.”
There is a shiver in Louis’ tone. “We wanted to go to the book shop. I’ll be a mess, I’ll…”
Lestat withdraws his hand, and puts his finger to Louis’ lips, shushing him. “Shhh. It’s alright, no mess.” He waits until Louis reopens his eyes, before smirking at him. “Now. Would you like it if I took care of this for you?” He quirks an eyebrow, coyly, watching Louis’ pupils dilate, almost swallowing the green.
He clicks his tongue. “You do have to say it. I cannot go and read your thoughts anymore, remember, hmmm?”
Louis swallows thickly, and then nods, jerkily. "Yes. Please.“
Lestat smirks at him, and then waggles his eyebrows. “Hold onto the wall, mon cher.”
He doesn’t wait for an answer, dropping to his knee instead, and reaching for the belt, undoing the fly with a few sure tugs.
Louis moans, a cut-off sound, as his own hand is slapped over his mouth, just as Lestat frees him, running his face along the soft skin for a long second before pressing a kiss to the tip.
He shoots a look up, but Louis has his eyes squeezed shut, both hand over his mouth, breathing harshly, and Lestat takes pity on him, swallowing him down, with no further ado.
Too high-strung to last, too sharp to be controlled.
Wet, gliding sounds, slurping, and then the shiver, in those muscular thighs, that signal the end.
Lestat holds the hips as they start to rut, helplessly, allowing Louis to fuck into his mouth, and come, obviously splendidly, with heaving, muffled sobs, down his throat.
He slowly releases the softening cock, running his tongue over the veins, savoring the taste, the silky skin.
Putting it away again oh so carefully, so gently, while Louis tries to calm his breathing.
He pushes up, slowly, waiting until Louis opens his eyes to lick his lips. “Delicious.”
Louis’ moan is almost a whine.
Lestat winks at him, and then gently pries his hands away from his mouth, biting his tongue to offer the bloody kiss to Louis, who accepts it with helpless hunger, fully fanged and desperate.
Lestat lets him chase the blood into his own mouth, and then gentles the kiss, bit by bit, until it’s a gliding, nipping kiss again, and Louis’ heart has calmed a bit again, beating in sync with his own.
Lestat mumbles against his lips. “Better now?”
Louis huffs. “A bit.”
Lestat grins. “I did tell you this life had its rewards.”
Louis ducks his head, and Lestat watches him for a moment, before turning his head, to look at what they can see of the street. “Home? Or book shop?”
Louis snorts, and then shrugs, with a bit of a sheepish smile. “Well, I think I can stand the thoughts now?”
Lestat laughs, gutturally, and then takes him by the waist, rushing them out on the next carriage passing.
Turning towards the book shop down the street, as if nothing ever happened. With a wink. “I heard they got a new shipment. You could pick some for the shelf upstairs?”
Louis clears his throat, and then falls into step next to him, with a roll of his shoulders. “Yeah, that would be nice.” He swallows, and then says a bit softer: “Thank you.”
Lestat hums, with a smirk. “Anytime.”
******
Louis is silent, and dark, on the way back.
Angry.
Lestat can understand why.
The bookshop had not opened at this late an hour for Louis.
They had only opened when they had seen Lestat.
Lestat had considered offering Louis their heads.
“That will not happen again.”
Louis scoffs, with a sidelong glance. “Now that I doubt.”
Lestat frowns, hanging up his overcoat. “I can assure you. I ordered them, mentally.”
Louis quirks an eyebrow, before helping himself to a drink he doesn’t need. And that he won’t like, not anymore. “Have some time to go around and do that with half the town?”
Lestat pulls a face. “I would rather spend my time with you?” He clicks his tongue. “Besides. I believe our reputation will establish itself fairly soon?” He shrugs, with a little sigh. “It always does. Money always does.”
Louis scoffs, again.
Lestat takes the Sazerac from him, and places it on the table, before sitting down next to Louis on the sofa. “The alcohol does not carry the same appeal anymore, mon cher. Not if drunk pure, at least.”
Louis grimaces. “So I can not even get drunk anymore?”
Lestat chuckles. “Au contraire, mon petit débutant. But… you will need to take a detour to not throw it up. At least for now.”
Louis works his jaw. “Detour.”
Lestat watches him, the expressive eyes, the fine lines of the mouth. The way the lips are pursed. “Should we find you a detour?”
Louis looks away, swallowing. His voice is rough with hunger, and contrite with shame. “We don’t have a new carpet yet.”
A smile over Lestat’s lips, there and gone again. “No, we don’t.” He hesitates for a long moment, and then reaches for the Sazerac, downing it in one long swallow, refusing to wince at the taste. Holding out the glass for Louis to take. “Why don’t you get me another?”
Louis blinks, and then gets up, slowly, to refill the glass.
He steps back, holding the glass out for Lestat to take. “Why can’t I drink it directly?”
Lestat takes the glass, with a hum. “You could, but your body is still changing. Best to let the change fully run its course before abusing reshaping organs. Besides…” He upends the glass again, feeling the first tendrils of the buzz hit. “…aren’t you hungry?” The glass clicks on the table, loud in the heavy silence.
Louis swallows, thickly. “You want me to feed on you?”
Lestat licks his lips. “Didn’t you like it when you drank from me in the church?” He quirks an eyebrow. “You didn’t hunt tonight. You were too unsettled, earlier.” He watches as a shadow passes over Louis’ face, changes direction just slightly. “In time, you will need to feed on living blood, regularly. For now… your body is still changing through my blood. And my blood will mask the effects of the alcohol. Well, most of them.” He tilts his neck, watches as Louis’ eyes drop to his carotid, helplessly. He whispers. “But the room is fuzzy…”
He holds out his right hand.
Louis takes it with his left, after staring at it for a long moment.
Lestat smiles, softly. “Come to me, Louis. No need to be strong with me. Or for me.”
Another shadow across Louis’ face, vulnerability this time.
He steps forward, with a stumbling step, hesitating before putting his knee up onto the couch next to Lestat, hovering over him, seemingly torn.
Lestat reaches up with his free hand after a moment, fingers feathering along Louis’ neck, and then gently pulling him down, while laying back against the raised part of the couch.
Louis follows the motion, catching himself with his other hand on the back.
Lestat smiles gently, and then turns his right hand, threads their fingers together. “Kiss me?”
Louis’ eyes snap up, wide and blown, the hunger in them evident.
Lestat smiles sharply, remembering his thought earlier. “I’ll happily beg for every kiss, Saint Louis…”
Louis snorts, and something in his eyes softens, and he leans down, slowly, carefully, pressing a chaste kiss to Lestat’s lips.
Lestat sighs into it, opening his mouth to receive it as the blessing that it is, before tilting his head to deepen it, gently.
He nips at the lips, and then withdraws, just a bit, to whisper against them. “Let me see your teeth.”
Louis moans, and then they drop, and Lestat sighs, the rush of delight at seeing them this close a twist in his guts. My body. My blood. My Louis.
He rears up a bit, pressing a deep, wet kiss to Louis’ mouth, making them both groan.
He breaks the kiss again, and turns his head, knowing it will bring the vein into sharp focus.
Knowing Louis will find it irresistible.
Wet breath now, on his skin.
A tongue, pressing where the teeth will go. Their linked hands are up, against the couch, while Louis’ other hand goes round, to the small of Lestat’s back. Pressing him close. Closer. Yes.
Lestat shivers, flayed by the tenderness, the prospect, the…
Lips close on his throat, as the teeth pierce him, stab at his soul.
He undulates, just softly, lets himself fall into the swoon, the deep, pleasure-drunken pull on his veins, on his body, on his soul.
Louis mewls between swallows, between big, heaving pulls that make Lestat’s toes curl, and that make the stars behind his eyes explode. Shimmering pleasure, pulled from him, gently, but irrefutably, unrelentingly.
And Louis’ soul, open to him.
A small sacrifice, the blood, for another glimpse.
Laughter with Paul, on good days. Teasing with Grace. The grim satisfaction of managing. And the lilac sky, the orange sun, and then… despair. I love you, little brother.
Just one more glimpse.
Just…
Louis rears back up, mouth bloody, and eyes wild and black, staring down at Lestat. “Who’s Nicki?”
Lestat swallows, harshly, trying to get his bearings, while reaching up to press a hand to the wound in his throat, as not to stain the sofa, but it’s already gone, only the smeared edges of it left.
His tongue feels twice its size. “Quel?”
Louis blinks at him, eyes still wide, but not as wild anymore, sense returning, with awareness. There is something in his voice. “Who is… Nicki?”
Lestat licks his lips. Ah. “I told you.” He inhales deeply, tries to let go of the pain that threatens. “A boy I once knew. Very sensitive, very beautiful.” But you likely saw that.
Louis frowns, just a bit. Stating. “You loved him.”
Lestat raises his eyebrows, and then exhales, through is nose. “Oui.”
Louis looks at him, mutely, and Lestat sighs, reaching up to gently draw Louis down, into an embrace on top of him, to cuddle this time.
He waits until Louis has settled, their linked hands half between them on Lestat’s chest now, Louis’ breath puffing agains this throat.
He clears his throat, just quietly. “Nicki… Nicolas. Nicolas de Lenfent.” Surprisingly painful, after all this time. “He…” Lestat exhales, and then tries again, stroking idly along Louis’ back. “We happened to meet at a crucial time. We… started talking. We became lovers.” He snorts, devoid any humor. “We ran away together, to Paris.”
Pain, iridescent pain, for an instant.
“I loved him beyond what I could endure, and so…” He works his jaw, for a long moment. “I was heartbroken when he died. Nothing much made sense.”
And I slept, eventually.
He swallows, and then turns his head to press a kiss against Louis’ forehead. “You made me believe in love again.” Instant, flaring love.
Louis shivers, and Lestat pulls him in tighter, before shifting just a bit onto his side, so he can look into Louis’ eyes. “Saint Louis. Stronger than the world that wants to subdue you. Rallying against the injustices in defiance.” A sharp smile, and delight, in his tone. “How I adore you.”
Louis’ eyes flit back and forth on his, under a frown.
Lestat blinks, slowly, and then shakes his head once. “How I wished you would believe me.”
Louis grimaces just a bit, but ducks his head, to nestle back into the curve of Lestat’s neck.
Lestat is quiet, for a long moment.
Louis speaks, against his skin. ”You made me because I remind you if him, didn’t you. It was there, in your blood. The recognition when you saw me. I am a replacement.“
Lestat freezes, for a split second, but long enough for Louis to lift his head, stare down at Lestat with this vulnerability that wounds. “Am I a replacement?“
Lestat blinks, and then giggles, the laughter bubbling up, as it always does, to hide the chasm of pain. His damned laughter. He pulls Louis in, presses their foreheads together, eyes unfocused on this close distance.
He licks his lips, sobering with an effort. “Louis, there is no-one else like you. It is true, you reminded me of him, your fire, your fierceness…” Your darkness. “But you are already so much more, so much more than I could have dreamed.” He strokes along Louis’ cheeks, eyes flitting back and forth, trying to convey his sincerity. “I chose you, because of the way your soul called to me, Louis. You, my Saint.”
Louis pulls back, just a bit, with a frown. “I ain’t no Saint.”
Lestat smiles at him, all bleeding edges. “You are my Saint. The one in whose arms I wish to stay, till the end.” A dark angel, befitting a vampire.
Louis swallows, shaking his head once. “Such weird perception of me you have.”
Lestat tilts his head a bit, with a small smile, a gentler one this time. “The blood does not lie. You have the truth of mine running in you right now. You have the taste of me in your mouth.” He watches as Louis’ gaze snaps up, caught. He smirks. “So tell me, Louis, what does my blood tell you, hmm?”
Louis swallows thickly.
Lestat watches as he licks along his lips, traces the lingering taste in his mouth. He whispers, breathing against Louis’ lips. “What does my blood tell you.”
Louis swallows again, his words breaking on the words, as his eyes flutter close. “That you… love me.”
There’s tears dropping from Louis’ eyes now, and Lestat hums, leaning in to press a soft kiss to each eyelid.
Lestat breathes the words. “C’est la vérité.”
The utter truth.
******
The next evening, Louis is light-headed with hunger.
And it mustn’t be the sheer, syrupy and yet light and serene quality of another vampire’s blood, no.
Louis is hungry.
For salt and spice and smell and life.
Lestat takes him to the docks.
Hunger, sickness, and the kind of business that does tend to stay in the shadows.
Lestat does not interfere with the choice this time, does not direct him.
Louis is a shadow between shadows, pushing a burly man back into a corner, with feverish excitement, and hardly any effort.
Just enough light to make the man feel terror.
Just enough drunken awareness to make the man beg.
There is this moment when Lestat thinks it will change Louis mind. Maybe.
And then Louis’ teeth go in, cleanly this time, and already sure, and the man goes rigid, with the first shock of arterial blood hitting the roof of Louis’ mouth.
And Louis moans.
Almost obscenely.
Lestat smirks to himself, and then leans against the wooden wall, watching the embrace of death, the way Louis throws his whole being into feeding.
The man’s heart stumbles, and then starts to rush, frantically, before slowing, beat by beat, and Lestat pushes up slightly, preparing to make him let go, but Louis drops the man on the last, thundering heartbeat, and stands there, as if caught somehow. Hands raised and empty, flexing, eyes closed, mouth bloody.
Ecstacy, rushing through his veins.
The vicious satisfaction of the blood.
Ah yes.
Lestat chuckles, and then finds himself in the arms of an exuberant, almost high fledgling vampire, who kisses him, with abandon. Sharing the last taste, the last drop.
He shivers, deepening the kiss, chasing the taste, that fleeting taste that is layered over the taste of cigarettes, and him, always him.
He gentles the kiss again when he can hear another mortal again, a woman this time, looking for customers. Her heart beats dejectedly, irregularly, close to death already.
It would not be her Lestat would go after, normally.
But tonight…
He breaks the kiss, and then grins at Louis, biting his lips. “Would you like to watch?”
Louis swallows, and then steps back, obviously torn, and Lestat hums, letting him.
He turns towards the woman approaching, and then beckons her, calls to her, and she comes, as if hypnotized.
He takes her in his arms, find her grubby little neck, and there, there it is, the spray, the hot, almost salty blood, thick with memory and life, and bitterness, and regret, and hope, always hope still, hope that refuses, hope that turns to the light, that flutters in his arms, and then the rush of something that is approaching, something that is other, something that he tastes, for just an instance… he drops her, with a gasp.
Silence, broken by his heavy breathing.
Louis’ voice is calm, almost remote. “You didn’t stop before she died.”
Lestat licks his lips, still reeling, and then nods, before he pulls out a handkerchief, to clean his mouth. “I broke that rule, very early on.” He snorts, and then shoots Louis a look, with a quirk of his left eyebrow. “You will break it eventually, too.” He hesitates, and then shrugs. “Touching death can be exhilarating. But it can also pull you down with it.” He clicks his tongue, before looking Louis in the eye, quite seriously. “I’d rather not have you try, for now. Hmm?”
Louis blinks, and then nods, with a sidelong look back at the man laying at his feet.
He clears his throat. “What happens now?”
Lestat shrugs. “Nothing. It’s the fever, remember.”
Louis pulls a bit of a face.
Lestat hums, watching him. “I did tell Tom Anderson that it was of the six-foot variety.”
Louis blinks, and then looks up at him, and then… snorts. “You didn’t.”
Lestat chuckles, holding out his hand to lead Louis away, after having scanned the proximity for other heartbeats and finding none. He leans in, makes his voice a conspiratorially whisper. “I so did. Just before you came in. I also joked that this is what we called bureaucrat in France.”
Louis shakes his head, with a helpless grin. “Oh god.”
Lestat chuckles, gutturally this time, and then shrugs, with a little sigh. “Of course, if we hunt somewhere else, we need to… clean up. But you already know that. There is the cemetery, the swamp… but I thought we would also get ourselves an incinerator, for the backyard? For practical reasons?” He stops, close to the water’s edge, where the black waves are rolling in gently. Waits until Louis turns to face him. “We could also just leave. Travel this New World. Visit its wonders, a different town every few weeks.”
Louis frowns, watching him. “Don’t you… want to feel at home?”
Lestat smirks. “You are my home, Louis. And the house…” He shrugs, looking up at the stars for a moment. “The house will still be there when we return. Money and lawyers will make sure of it.”
Louis blinks, watching him. “You mean… we could just leave.”
Lestat nods. And then shrugs again. “If we stay, the rite of passage will be much harsher.”
Louis frowns, echoing. “Rite of passage.”
Lestat hums, reaching up to hold Louis’ jaw, just gently. “Yes. We all must leave those we love behind to find our true selves.” A shiver down his spine, and pain in Louis’ green eyes. “It is a rite we all must pass.”
Louis’ face is stricken. “I can’t… not yet? I… can’t go, I can not…” He trails off, and Lestat shakes his head, feeling the pain acutely, and feeling helpless about it. “I know.” He shakes his head, lets his hand drop to Louis’ neck, trying for a reassuring smile. “And it is alright, for now. For the beginning. Eventually though…” He trails off.
Eventually you will have to accept who you are.
And you will likely blame me for it.
He swallows, keeping the smile on.
Louis watches him, and then nods, while his eyes plead. “Not yet though. We can stay here, now. I…” He frowns, looking away for a long moment, before looking back, something hard in his tone. “I have a business to run. My business supports my family, I can’t…”
Lestat nods, still smiling. Keep smiling. “Now, that is alright, Louis. There is no rush.” He turns slightly, and lets his hand glide from Louis neck, waits until he falls into step with him. “I will be happy to enjoy New Orleans with you.” He looks up at the glowing city beyond the dark docks. “Fair warning though, I will take you to every opera that deserves to be seen.”
Louis ducks his head, and chuckles, with a little sniff. “Warning heeded.” He exhales, and then looks at Lestat. “Can we go and tend to my affairs now? I need to…” He trails off, obviously gauging Lestat’s reaction.
Lestat shrugs, and then leans in, enjoying the way Louis’ pupils dilate. “Of course Louis. As long as I may come along?”
Louis exhales, shudderingly, sending him an alarmingly innocent smile. “Of course.”
Lestat hums, and then leans in, to kiss him, feeling Louis stiffen for a split-second before softening again, leaning into the kiss.
Lestat withdraws just a bit, nipping. “We are beyond them. You will need to accept that.” He steps back and then walks backwards, towards the town. “Come.” He lowers his head, just a bit, grins mischievously. “Let us find an import house that is still open. I am in dire need of green cushions, and green bedspreads…” He bites his lips. “Green duvets…”
Louis snorts, and then ducks his head, before he follows, cane in hand. “Green, hmm?”
Lestat hums, licking his lips. “It’s suddenly become my favorite color.”
Louis swallows. “Really.”
Lestat twirls once, and then grins at Louis, who helplessly grins back. “Yes. Green, sparkling green, brimming with life.”
Louis shakes his head, but Lestat can see the faint blush, the way he swallows.
He sobers slowly, watching Louis face, while still walking backwards towards town. “We should get you some clothes, too. It would be best if you would stay away from your family for a few months.” Louis’ gaze snaps to his, wide and alarmed. Lestat smiles, a bit painfully. “The hunger, Louis. If you visit them the emotional need for them will intensify the hunger. It will be deafening, pounding, taking your mind. And you will wake from it, with their bodies at your feet.”
Louis face crumbles, for a moment, and Lestat stops, waits until Louis steps up to him.
“Give it some time. Live this life with me, for a while, before going back to them.” He lifts his hand, pushes it onto Louis’ neck, thumb stroking. “I promise we have the time.”
Louis nods once, and then relaxes, in increments, with a sigh. “S’ just…” He shrugs. “I want…” He trails off.
Lestat works his jaw for a moment, watching him. “I understand the need to tell them.” Louis’ eyes snap to his, with a grimace. Lestat smiles painfully. “But it will only bring them pain, Louis.” He blinks, very slowly. “We cannot bring them with us, and, believe me, they would not want to. They are not made for eternity. Not like you are.”
Louis scoffs, with a frown. “I’m made for eternity?”
Lestat tilts his head, narrowing his eyes just a bit. “I chose you.” He turns away, slowly, lets his hand drop down to link their elbows. “I recognize a fierce soul when I see it.”
“Fierce?” Louis smiles, a small, painful smile. “I ain’t fierce.”
Lestat steps forward, prompting Louis to do the same. “Ah, but you are.” Louis rolls his eyes, just a bit, and Lestat chuckles, with a shrug, and a sigh. “In time, you will recognize your own strength.”
Louis shakes his head. “Am I as strong as you are now?”
Lestat works his jaw for a long moment, and then shakes his head. “Physically, non. I have too many years on you for that.” He turns his head to look at Louis, and then winks at him. “But mentally might be another thing.”
Louis rolls his eyes again, looking away, and Lestat grins, pulling along a bit now. “Come. Import houses, now. I need those green satin sheets. And… maybe green pajamas, what do you think?”
Louis shakes his head, a bit exasperatedly, but offers an answer nonetheless, with a bit of an embarrassed smile. “Red. Let’s make those red.”
Lestat grins at him, watching as Louis helplessly grins back, his stomach fluttering. “Red then. Very well.”
******
“I think I want my own coffin.” A pause. "Please.“
Lestat swallows, idly stroking through the tufts of Louis’ hair, while laying in the afterglow with him. “I see.”
Louis lifts his head, just a bit. “It’s not…” He trails off, tries again. “I don’t…” He grimaces.
Lestat closes his eyes for a long moment, and then exhales, gently pressing to make Louis put his head down again. “It’s alright. I told you, you’d want your own, eventually.”
Louis’ breath is tickling against his throat. “You don’t mind?”
Lestat shrugs, just a bit. “It’s a natural progression of emancipation.” He clicks his tongue. “You are not a baby vampire anymore.”
Louis freezes, and then lifts his head, with a pointed look down at them, and heavy teasing in his voice. “Ewwwww.”
Lestat blinks, and then proceeds to tickle him until he is crying bloody tears, and laughing so happily it hurts.
******
"That one.“
Lestat tilts his head, regarding the black, sleek coffin.
He smiles. "Perfect.“ He reaches out to open the lid, humming a bit dismayed when the satin turns out to be cream colored. "We need a custom made one though.“
Louis blinks at him, and then rolls his eyes, a bit exasperatedly. "Really?“
Lestat turns to him, and then steps up to him, slowly, decidedly predatory, raising his finger to Louis‘ jaw. "I can see you laying on this bed of satin… Green eyes, like emeralds, and eternal life.“ He licks his lips. "Your red pajamas hiding the blood stains…
Louis licks his lips, eyes flitting to the doorway, where the shop‘s owner has disappeared to, after Lestat had asked for a catalogue earlier. "I could be convinced?“
Lestat smiles, somewhat wolfishly, but also honestly, letting it reach his eyes. "Oh, could you?“ He makes a show of thinking. "What could I do to convince you though? Maybe… we could try this one out?“
Louis snorts, in a decidedly cute and innocent way, in Lestat’s definitely biased opinion. "Yeah, sure.“
Lestat narrows his eyes.
And then hops into the coffin, wriggling a bit to get comfortable. "Alright then!“
Louis‘ mouth opens slowly, and then closes again, dumbfounded.
Lestat leans over the edge of the coffin, while his hand starts to pull at his tie, slowly. "Well? Do I need to beg?“
Louis licks his lips. "You cannot be serious.“
Lestat grins, with pursed lips. "Can‘t I?“
Louis swallows. "You know what I mean.“
Lestat exhales, and then shrugs again, with a big, big sigh. "Oh alright. But we’ll take green satin.“ He pokes Louis‘ chest, just gently. "And we’ll come back to christening it when it’s been delivered.“
Louis looks away for a second, with a shake of his head.
His voice is dry. "So no sex until it’s delivered?“
Lestat pauses and then leans in, with a glower. "Nice try.“
He turns on his heel, to find the owner, Louis‘ snicker following him.
******
"I sometimes wonder what the servants think of the amount of sheets we go through.“
Lestat snorts, looking up from lazily suckling on the bite on Louis‘s shoulder, part of a very leisurely and very thorough exploration of Louis‘ body. "I spilled hardly a drop?“
Louis grins, while pressing Lestat’s head down again, and undulating softly when Lestat’s finger press in, just a bit. "But they were a mess yesterday.“
Lestat hums, pinning Louis between twin pleasure points of fangs and masterfully timed prostrate massage.
He presses in for a long moment, and then retreats again, delighting in the moan that reaches him, and the way that Louis fists his hair. "I must confess I endeavor to make them a mess again, mon cher.“
He twists his finger, and Louis laughs, gutturally, breathlessly.
Lestat grins, and then moves up, withdrawing his finger.
Staring down into the green eyes that open to him with the look he craves, this look, parts helpless love and parts desperate need.
Blown wide, and almost black.
And that flush on Louis‘ cheeks, that flush that is happiness.
Lestat swallows.
Oh what I would give to stay here, now, in this moment.
And then he grins, a bit forced. "So, I have been thinking.“
Louis chuckles, stroking gently along Lestat’s flanks. "Uh oh.“
Lestat narrows his eyes, and then leans down, to bite roughly at Louis‘ lips, while thoroughly enjoying the way Louis‘ legs part, to allow him between them.
He shifts, with a sigh. "So. I was wondering if you‘d like me to… push your boundaries.“
Louis blinks, reaching for the little container with the lube. "Push?“
Lestat hums, closing his eyes for a long moment when Louis coats his cock.
He licks his lips. "Yes.“ He shifts, pushing Louis‘ legs up, slowly, and aligning. "You know, make you beg.“ He lets the head nudge, just gently.
Louis‘ voice is pressed. "Beg?“
Lestat grins, and the pushes, slowly, gently, letting gravity and angle do most the work, listening to the soft, high-pitched moan that Louis cannot contain.
Sighs, when he sheathes himself.
His voice is rough. "Not today, obviously.“
Louis shivers. "Obviously.“
Lestat exhales, bending down to kiss him, languidly, before starting to move, slowly.
He smiles gently, knowing he sounds almost pensive. "Seeing goosebumps break out on your skin as I take you is one of the purest delights of this existence, Louis.“ He raises his eyes to Louis‘, whispering. "Hearing your sigh as I pull out… hearing your bitten off curse when I push in at the perfect angle…“ He trails off, grinning when Louis keens. "So responsive, so receptive.“ He rolls his hips, hissing when Louis‘ nails scratch down his back, drawing blood, while Louis throws his head back. "So beautiful.“ He pushes in with force, and Louis shouts, eyes flying open, wild and black on Lestat, the iris only a thin, green ring. “What a sight you make.”
Louis groans, and then pulls him down, roughly, to kiss him, devour him, and it’s a bloody kiss, full of delight, and Lestat loses the pace, and Louis laughs in his mouth, and it’s frantic suddenly, base, and there is this moment, this moment, when nothing else exists.
This moment, when Louis screams, into Lestat’s mouth.
And then holds him close, so close, when Lestat pulses, deep inside.
Silence, for long minutes, after.
And harsh breath, fanning on skin.
Louis’ throat clicks, when he speaks. “We need more bedspreads.”
And Lestat giggles.
******
“I want to see ‘A Doll’s House” tomorrow. Henrik Ibsen. I’ve seen it before, it is a very modern piece. Breaching the norms and all that. I’m sure you’d enjoy it?”
Louis looks up, from reading in another new book they got the other day. “Got an invitation to my Mom’s party for the afternoon. I… we could go by before the play? I mean, after the sun has set?”
Lestat hesitates, turning away slightly. “Ah, yes. We cannot be late though, since the tickets are only available at box office.” He narrows his eyes, keeps his tone light. “Are you sure you are strong enough for them?”
Louis’ face shutters, as it always does, when Lestat reminds him. “I’m sure.”
Lestat grimaces, scolding himself silently while trying to change gears. “I simply do not wish to see you hurt.”
Something in Louis’ face softens, but his voice is still flat. “Me? Or them.”
Lestat sighs, shooting a quick look to the heavens. “You. And them. Because that would hurt you. “ He steps over to look at Louis. “I do know what they mean to you, Louis. I believe it would be better to cut the cord…”
Louis interjects, heatedly. “Oh, not that again.”
Lestat sighs, and then continues, somewhat flat. “…but I accept your need for them, and if you decide to ignore my wisdom in this then there is not much I can do to help.”
Louis glowers at him, arms crossed now, book dangling from one hand.
Lestat looks away for a moment, and then reaches out, to massage a taut shoulder. “I will make nice, Louis. Hmm? For you.” With the family that hates you and what you are. I will do that, for you.
Louis swallows, and then nods, curtly. “Thanks. Appreciate it.”
Lestat nods, and then steps away, to tilt his head towards the coffins. “We should sleep… are you coming to bed… or are you reading?”
Louis looks at his book, and then at Lestat, who is walking backwards, while undoing his shirt. With a coquettish smirk.
He gets up, dropping the book. “I’m coming.”
Lestat bites his lips, and grins. “Not yet.”
******
Their voices carry, so easy to hear beyond the banjo band’s music.
‘There’s twins.’
Lestat stares ahead, pretending to amuse himself, with this congenial smile pasted on his lips, while Mama du Lac shoots proverbial daggers at his face.
The roasted suckling pig smells like burnt decay.
Lestat’s teeth ache.
But Louis is laughing inside, with his sister, and Lestat’s mind wanders for a moment, trying to find a memory with laughter with his brothers. Maybe Augustin, after he came back from the fight with the wolves? Ah, no, that was… derision. And disbelief.
And where did it take him, that slaughter of those beasts back then in the freezing snow of the Auvergne?
It took him here, into the damp heat of New Orleans, where the wilderness encroaches at all times, and the stink of the swamps is only kept at bay by all the flowers everywhere. And the horse shit. And the automobile fumes.
Still.
Quite the contrast to riding out on horseback with a sword.
He blinks, and raises his eyes to the starry night, trying to remember if the stars looked different then. It certainly seemed so, in the nights in that inn. With Nicolas.
Despairing over the futility of life.
Getting drunk. And the violin, the violin.
The banjos are changing tune, and for a split second it seems as if it’s something like the eerie music of the witches’ place, but it’s only a memory, right, a memory.
An echo of what was.
Burned alive, tried for sins they didn’t commit.
Lestat blinks again, suppressing a shudder, while the smile on his lips hurts.
And then Louis is there, again, thank god, and Lestat’s smile turns more real, and Louis struts on, without a look back, and Lestat cannot blame him, falling in step with him, while Mama Du Lac scoffs, and mumbles to herself.
And Lestat wants to put his hand in-between Louis’ shoulder blades, but he doesn’t, because Lous doesn’t want it.
And Lestat knows.
******
“There… is an opera I would like to see.”
Louis smiles, while counting the money of his cribs. “Oh?”
Lestat refuses to grimace. “It’s at the grand opera house.”
Louis freezes, for just a second. “Ah.”
Lestat purses his lips. “It’s okay, if you don’t want to.”
Louis frowns and then looks up, with a smile. “It’s okay, I don’t mind.”
Lestat licks his lips. “We could move to London. We would stir a ruckus there as well, but it wouldn’t be…”
Louis interjects, tone deadly calm. “I don’t mind.” A beat. “And I cannot leave New Orleans.”
Lestat nods, once. Keeps his tone light. “Very well. I’ll get tickets.”
Louis nods, keeping his eyes on the money. “A private box please. I’d rather not get too close to them.”
Lestat quirks an eyebrow. “Of course.”
******
“Va te faire foutre aussi!!”
Ah, the anger, that courses through him. At least he’s not laughing.
The body stinks, burnt decay in the making.
And Louis, upstairs now, trying to get the blood out of that white suit.
Fat chance.
Lestat bites his tongue on that one.
Doesn’t say a word when Louis burns it.
Changes, silently, and then lays down in the coffin.
The air is stifling today.
Definitely no sex either.
Bon fucking sang.
He grimaces, cursing silently in his mind. “For the record - if disrespect was done to you? I would have killed him myself.”
Nothing. Though that is even the truth.
Lestat rolls his eyes.
Tries again, opening the coffin a bit. “Well, what can I do to make it up to you?”
A moment, and then Louis opens his coffin. “I wanna buy the Fair Play saloon.”
More human entanglement.
We’ll never get out of here.
Lestat’s voice is careful. “That’s… ambitious.”
Louis’ jaw is set. Lestat knows that expression. “If you don't wanna help, I'll do it myself.”
Lestat leans on his elbows on the side of the coffin, watching Louis. Maybe… “Ridiculous of you to mix human and vampire business. It always ends poorly.”
Louis’ little scowl carries his determination.
Lestat sighs. A sign of goodwill then. God knows it’s not about the money for him. “But how can I stop you?”
Louis blinks, and then lifts and turns his head, just a bit. Gives Lestat a glimpse, of that neck.
Lestat smiles, just a bit self-deprecatingly. “How can I say no to you?”
There’s a little smile now on Louis’ face.
Meaning Louis knows he didn’t even have to beg.
Lestat’s thought is just the tiniest bit glum.
Je suis tellement baisé.
******
“But Mr. Lioncourt, that is a huge amount of money.”
And still only a part of what is there.
Lestat shrugs. “Please just do it, Mr. … What was your name again?”
“Marcelle, Monsieur. I have taken over caring for your ongoing needs with our law firm.”
Lestat gives him a tight lipped smile, watches the nervous twitches in the balding man’s face. “Mr. Marcelle. I am sure your superiors have given you instructions to how I wish my business to be handled?” The man’s eyes dart away for a moment, and Louis shifts in his seat next to Lestat, obviously reading the thoughts as well. “That is good then. I suggest you heed them.”
Lestat sits forward, stubbing out his cigarette in the man’s glass with whiskey. “If you do your job properly, there will always be business from me and my… descendants. And I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that you can book twice the hours.”
The man swallows, and then shakes his head, eyes nervously on the request for money. “No, Mr. Lioncourt.”
Lestat gets up. “Good.”
He waits until Louis has stood up as well, and then nods, before leaving, with measured steps, leaving the middle-aged lawyer with his thoughts full of weird instructions behind.
Outside, Louis falls into step with him. “How long have you had this…”
Lestat turns his head, regards him for a long moment, before prompting. “This law firm?”
Louis nods.
Lestat shrugs. “For over a hundred years I believe. Officially they think me to be my own grandson of course. Or grand-grandson? I’m not sure. My dear Roget built it up in Paris, after…” He trails off, and then shakes his head, once. “They usually are quite reliable.” He shoots Louis a look. “I have instructed them to tend to your business as well, should you want it.”
Louis frowns. “I don’t think I need them.”
Lestat hums, running his tongue over his teeth.
He doesn’t say it.
Not yet.
Louis tilts his head towards him, with a sly little smile. “So they are your human entanglement?”
Lestat snorts, and then shakes his head once, while giving a woman passing them a flirtatious look. “My human entanglement is money only, Louis.”
Louis frowns, tone still light. “So’s mine?”
Lestat weighs his head. “Yours is power.”
Louis looks away for a long moment, his tone clipped when he speaks. “Isn’t that the same though?”
Lestat lifts his eyebrows, turning with him around the street into the general direction of the Washington Square park. “Often, yes.” But not always.
Louis’ expression is pinched now, his walk a bit harder.
His voice is too loud. “Why do you help me Lestat, if you think me so stupid.”
Mon dieu.
Lestat lets his head fall back, for a moment, before leaning in, voice carrying anger. “I do not think you stupid, Louis.” He can see the muscles jump in Louis’ jaw. “And I help you because you asked me for it.” He stops, and waits until Louis turns to him, expression dark.
He sighs soundlessly, and then raises his hand, to put it over Louis’ heart. “All you ever need to do, Louis, is ask.” He shrugs, with a grin. “And you will receive!”
Louis rolls his eyes, looks away.
Lestat tilts his head, to catch his gaze. “I’m serious. I want you to tell me what you want of me. I cannot read your mind anymore, remember?”
Louis’ eyes come back to his, slowly, and then he steps back, suddenly, making Lestat’s hand drop between them, as a couple passes them by, whispering.
Lestat’s nostrils flare. “This, this is why.” He clicks his tongue, leaning in, just a bit. “Perception.” He raises his eyebrows, eyes locked, icy blue on tumultuous green. “Their perception, your perception.” He steps back again, just a bit. “But not mine.”
Louis grimaces.
He reaches up to rub his temple. “I’m… it will take time, Lestat.”
Lestat hums, pushing his tongue along one fang. “Time, yes.” He clicks his tongue, and then leans in again, catching Louis’ gaze. Trying. “But we do have that, non?”
Louis swallows, and then nods, and exhales, his shoulders relaxing the tiniest bit. “Yeah.”
Lestat extends his hand. “Would you like to read a bit on that bench we both love so much? Letting our… hunger sharpen before we turn to that part of the night?”
Louis ducks his head, just a bit, and then nods, turning towards the park. “Yeah. I’d like that. I’d like that very much.”
******
There are things to be said about this particular human entanglement, Lestat has to admit it.
The women, the men.
The guests.
Louis being quite happy.
Louis coming home close to sunrise and dragging him to bed, and making love to him in a way that makes his toes curl, still high on the night’s music and delights.
Brimming with the satisfaction of success.
It is a good five years.
Lestat takes all he can get.
Often quite literally.
And if he begs Louis to let go from time to time?
Well, he always finds ways to make that up to him.
But it’s there, somewhere, always.
Let go of this life.
S’il te plaît.