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Cool, autumnal air floated through the open window of Lestat’s bedroom, rustling the filmy drapes. Louis stared out into the night, soaking in the peaceful quiet of the room and basking in the warm body pressed to his.
What a fucking night.
Louis felt like he was living in a completely different world from just a few hours ago.
The breeze caressed Lestat’s hair, lifting a few strands to tickle Louis’ face that rested upon that crown of gold. Lestat was completely passed out on his chest, exhausted, drained. Lulled to sleep by Louis’ heartbeat and the consistent strokes to his hair, his neck, his shoulders.
The tender bubble they’d existed in since after the séance was still apparent, thick in the air like syrup and coating them both with sticky-sweet affection. It was comforting, and after this evening, they both needed a bit of comfort.
Louis couldn’t stop replaying the life-altering events of this single evening through his mind. A culmination of over a century's worth of heartbreak, love, mistakes, and bullshit.
Lestat, handsome devil in his grim reaper costume, his kindness bleeding through, so obvious and not even seeking recognition. The way he left out candy for the mortal children, complete with a sign asking them to only take one! Their dinner with Daniel, which in hindsight made Louis’ blood boil. The sneaky shit and his little comments; delighted in Louis playing into his hand with the de Lioncourt descendant without even knowing it. “Ready to eat your own?” Lestat, indulging his fans at Louis’ encouragement, the feeling of warm pride filling him as he witnessed Lestat engaging with the world around him, being nice and touching lives in the smallest ways.
The flirty, wholesome conversation in the car and the ache in his heart when Lestat called himself a monster. Plain, succinct. As if it were simply fact.
Lestat, energetic and thriving, completely in his element and shining like a fucking beacon on that stage. The weird conversation with who Louis then believed to be Sofia. That song, his strong, gorgeous voice with the stunning atmospheric music, the way the entire world shrank until it was just the two of them. The link Lemuel sent him to the video exposing his maker’s trauma to the world to pick over like vultures.
Louis thought of what he said to Lestat in that street. Judgmental, hurtful, selfish as usual.
His reaction to seeing the video, witnessing the abuse with his own eyes. Seeing Louis’ reaction to the revelation, faced with Louis leaving him once more. Lestat's wounded face, blood still on his mouth from the reflexive vomiting that had been his body’s instinctive response to the situation as he choked on his name, begging Louis not to walk away.
Louis' disgust, his immediate reaction to walk away, to complain about the vomit on his shoes, comparing Lestat to Armand. No wonder Lestat had never felt safe to tell him. He couldn’t face it himself, the abusive, predatory nature of it. Obviously trying to justify it to himself and to Louis. His shaking, heaving body almost collapsing on the street under the weight of the world that had been beating him down in ways Louis couldn’t even fully comprehend. Screaming about his own fracturing, how he put Louis first despite it and never judged him. Louis hadn’t known what to do, watching his cruel, insensitive words land and hollow Lestat out a little more.
And Lestat was right, wasn’t he?
Things had been so sweet and giddy, working their way back again. Lestat had come for him, shown up for him even through his own hurt because Louis needed him. Lestat had never once accused him of sickness, had set his own feelings aside despite Louis’ consistent selfishness since their reunion. His cowardice about the book, his not contacting Lestat after he was shot because he was too wrapped up in his own bullshit.
Sad boy, Claudia had called him, told him he made it all about him.
And she was right, wasn’t she?
Louis had, in fact, been in a frenzy, near manic, and Lestat was there without question. Showed up at the diner. Talked him down countless times, did everything and anything he could to be there for Louis. Hadn’t told him he was sick during any of it, or in the past when he was starving himself or sunk into his own melancholy so deep he couldn’t function. Lestat had not always handled it admirably, but never made Louis feel shame over things he could not control. Always encouraged him to break any chains that held him, and be everything that he was without apology.
Lestat had always seen him, and accepted him. Even the ugly parts.
Especially the ugly parts.
Wrote that beautiful song that brought Louis to tears, watching this impossible man pour his heart out and rip into Louis’ soul with those poignant, meaningful lyrics. It shook Louis and made him feel seen all over again.
Brutal, bitter. Lestat wanted him, not despite it but because of it. He was not afraid.
Lestat reveled in the brutal parts of the ones he loved, so long as it was genuine.
“Bring your malice.” He’d invited the spectre of their daughter to lay it on him, degrade him, tear him to bits. So fucking ready for her brand of cruelty, so long as it was her.
His own reckoning in the form of his beloved daughter, saying all of those awful things that Louis would have to learn to live with the truth of. Would learn to live with the truth of, because she wasn’t wrong. They’d failed her; Louis failed her. And she’d rightfully hated them both, and used whatever she could to fight her way through the world. Hurt them for what they’d done to her.
Louis knew there was love there, despite those vicious things she’d said, and he would have to find the balance of her love and her malice. To accept this failure, accept how they’d damned her and now she was stuck in hell without the one thing she wanted more than anything. To become a better man, if only because what else could he do? Couldn’t change the past, couldn’t keep wallowing in his own pity party and holding on to someone who didn’t want to be held onto. He had a lot of work to do on himself, and the Claudia-shaped hole in his heart would never disappear. Her words would haunt him for the rest of his days, and he knew there were many nights ahead of him to dissect and analyze all that had happened there.
But for once, Louis was unable to primarily stew in his own misery. He couldn’t stop thinking about Lestat, which wasn’t uncommon. Lestat was pretty much all Louis thought about, regardless of how he tried to fool himself for so long.
If tonight had shown him anything, it was that they were both fucking messes. Messes who needed each other, or the mess expanded, morphed, and multiplied. That they could only trust each other, all they needed in this world was each other, and to deny it any longer was futile.
Holding Lestat, apologizing and shielding him from the world even for a moment. Guiding him down the street, gentle discussion at the bar to give Lestat some room to breathe and a chance to recuperate. The taste of his maker’s blood, shivering pleasure through Louis’ gums, coating his throat, zinging through his veins and flooding his heart. Showing Lestat in the subtlest way he could think of that Louis still wanted him.
Their talk on the bench, so hopeful and tender. Louis, already feeling cracked open from the night, had spoken his deepest, simplest desires. Asked about birds, implying Lestat’s presence in said plans and not-so-subtly offering companionship. Lestat had looked at him like he hung the moon. Louis hadn’t wanted to hold back anymore, wanted it known that he was in this again. All in. Touching his finger ever so gently against Lestat’s, letting him know the door was open if he wanted to walk through it still. If he’d still have him, after his atrocious behavior this evening, towards Lestat and their daughter.
They’d sat in awed silence, gazing at each other and simply enjoying a moment of peace. There was much to discuss, but they had time. They were here, together, and that’s what mattered. They made their way back to Lestat’s house, Louis sliding his palm against Lestat’s and linking their fingers, hands swaying between them. Lestat had smiled so brightly, lit up from within by this simple gesture, and Louis thought he might melt on the spot but offered a beaming grin in return.
After getting back to Lestat’s house, Louis led him right past the guest room Louis had been staying in and to Lestat's bedroom. Louis’ eyes slipped closed, a knot in his throat as he remembered the delicate moments between them, with an ache deep in his heart.
Lestat stared at Louis, frozen in his own bedroom and visibly unsure of what to do, what Louis wanted. Afraid to overstep and break the spell. Louis kissed his knuckles, released his hand, and went to where he knew Lestat’s sleep clothes were tucked away in a dresser on the far side of the room. He grabbed two sets of soft pajamas, bringing them back to Lestat and handing him a set. They both changed, quietly, and Louis crawled into the big bed in the center of the room, ignoring the coffin he knew Lestat usually slept in by the windows.
Lestat watched him, then hesitantly followed. He lay in front of Louis, facing him with their heads on the pillows, looking at him with so much undisguised adoration and hope it almost hurt to look at.
“Wanna kiss you.” Louis admitted, bringing a hand to tuck a golden lock away behind an ear, tracing the shell with the tip of a claw. “That alright?”
Blueblueblue eyes shining as Lestat breathed, “Oui. Kiss me. Please, Louis, yes. Yes.”
Louis smiled, genuine and fond, leaning in to brush his mouth to Lestat’s. Lestat gasped against him, returning the kiss and grasping Louis’ shoulder. Simple, soft presses of lips, tentative and exploratory. Slow, worshiping hands tracing over each other’s hair, faces, torsos, arms. Reacquainting themselves with what could never be forgotten, but was dearly missed.
A questioning tongue brushed out to trace along Lestat’s bottom lip, before sliding between them. Lestat inhaled sharply, his tongue eagerly curling against Louis’, hungry. It was so easy to get lost in it that Louis didn’t register the path of one of Lestat’s hands until it was dipping past his belly button.
Reluctantly pulling back from those addictive lips, Louis grabbed that wandering hand and tugged it up to rest over his heart. He didn’t stop it in reprimand, but concern. The idea of sex right now was near-triggering for him after everything, he couldn’t imagine how Lestat must feel after being faced with the revenge porn and the beginning of coming to terms with his own abuse. “Not tonight.”
Lestat stilled completely, sadness and rejection flooding his eyes with blood tears before a terrified whisper,“Y-you are disgusted by me now-?”
Louis shook his head, leaning forward so their foreheads touched and rushed to reassure. “S’not like that, baby, just been a long day.” The term of endearment hadn’t been intentional, slipped out, but Louis was grateful for the instant, visible calming effect it had on his eternal companion. Louis cupped his face, caressing his cheekbones and the hair below his temples in an attempt to soothe. “We’ve both been through it tonight, have a lot to process. A lot to talk about. It’s been all around a lot. Let me just hold you? Kiss a little more if you want, just kiss? We can worry about the rest tomorrow, alright? Talk. About everything, do anything, whatever you want. I’m here. I want you, always wanted you even when I was lyin’ to myself about it. I’m not going anywhere.”
A tiny, shuddering breath that fluttered across Louis’ lips as Lestat looked at him with pleading iridescent eyes and asked in a small, bashful voice, “You promise?”
Louis blinked away tears. This fragile, fractured thing was so delicate in his palms. He’d almost crushed it earlier, hurting Lestat worse than he already was. Shame filled Louis’ lungs until he felt like he couldn’t breathe. Pressed his mouth to Lestat’s forehead, kissed his hair, his nose, his cheek. “Yeah. Promise. Ain’t nowhere I’d rather be than here with you.”
A nervous nod as Lestat pressed his lips to Louis’, chaste and sweet. “I love you, Louis.”
Louis squeezed his eyes closed, the first time hearing those words in decades from the only one whose love he wanted shook him to his core. He nodded, slow at first and then vehemently, holding Lestat close, clutching him tight and hoping everything he wanted to say but couldn’t was speaking through his body language. He loved Lestat, more than anything. But he still couldn’t bring himself to say it, everything was still so fresh and raw, and the night had been so long.
Accepting the nonverbal response, Lestat leaned in to capture Louis’ lips again, slow, drugging kisses that made everything hazy and warm. Affectionate, adoring, intimate. They kissed, accompanied by reverent, innocent touches until Lestat’s exhaustion took over, and he tucked his face into Louis’ throat, nuzzling in with a single open-mouthed kiss pressed to his pulse and drifted off in the safety of Louis’ arms.
Louis couldn’t stop mentally berating himself, recalling those moments before Lestat fell asleep and how badly he’d fucked up earlier.
It’s fucked, so fucked. Beyond fucked. So many things started to slot into place.
I wanted to live with you like I had been dragged out of the bayou. Gills to lungs, for you, and you only.
He didn’t want to tell him anything of his past, for fear it would all unravel. Didn’t want anything to taint it, to take Louis away. For Louis to take himself away, and there had already been so many reasons, so many times Louis threatened to leave. Look how Louis reacted when he did find out, almost pulverizing this precious being and causing more damage.
How much damage was there within this man?
Louis was starting to connect too many dots, a heavy realization that everyone Lestat ever loved took that love and used it against him in some way or another. Took what they wanted when they needed it, and hardly spared a thought for what it did to Lestat. Louis included.
On the surface, Lestat appeared dramatic, self-assured, even volatile.
But underneath, he was soft, so sweet. He just wanted to be loved. He loved so deeply when he did, Claudia had all but said she knew she wouldn’t have been able to turn Lestat against Louis. That revelation shocked Louis to his core- that she’d villainized Lestat more than he deserved, made things up intentionally to get Louis to do what she wanted.
Fuck.
As Lestat answered Louis’ questions about Gabriella at the bar, Louis understood the exact shape of this predation. His vague answers about a closeness between them, the only one who showed him any affection despite not being a doting mother, deflecting when asked if it ever happened before Paris. His eyes wide and scared, softening only after Louis asked for his blood, openly showing how it affected him, still. Apologizing again for his insensitive reaction while those blueblueblue eyes shone in vulnerability.
The video was seared into his mind. Louis couldn’t stop hearing Gabriella’s excessive, repulsive moans. He’d been too blinded by his misguided disgust to pay attention to Lestat’s, to judge the depth of their sincerity. Maybe if he had, he would have had a clearer picture of what was actually happening.
Immutable curiosity arose within him, and Louis was struck with the urge to watch it again. His stomach roiled in protest at the mere thought, but he had to know, had to know if Lestat actually wanted it the way he tried desperately to portray.
So, so carefully, Louis extracted himself from Lestat’s arms, leaving a gentle kiss on that blond head. He grabbed his discarded pants from the floor, quietly pulling his phone from the pocket and creeping to the hallway bathroom.
Steeling himself, teeth clenching in revulsion already, Louis unlocked his phone. Made a mental note to change his background photo and pulled up the video. He was sure to put the phone on silent, unable to hear it again. He forced himself to watch, pausing the video when Lestat was clearly visible.
Heartbreak. Anguish. Resignation. Starving for love.
Lestat looked nothing like he would in the throes of passion. Not a trace of that devilish enthusiasm, that coquettish charm. The devotion was there, but it was wrong, wrong, wrong.
His eyes were screaming, his body hardly moving. Mostly lying there and letting Gabriella use him as she pleased. A beautiful, tortured puppet on strings with a little boy inside who only wanted her love.
Something caved beneath Louis’ ribs.
A hand rushed to his mouth as his own blood vomit spewed out through his fingers, leaning over the sink to cough it up. Hot tears gushed down his face, and he rested his head on the sink to steady himself.
How had he not seen it before?
How could he have been so cruel?
Louis couldn’t have known, he knew that, and yet it did nothing to cease the ache within that he’d been so quick to believe the worst of Lestat. Again.
The feel of his heart pounding in his chest shook awareness back into him, worried he would wake Lestat. Louis forced himself to calm down, taking deep, centering breaths and reminding himself this was not about him. He had to be strong, had to hold it together and be there for Lestat. Can’t focus on his own feelings about this, or think too hard about Claudia, can’t handle any of that right now. Louis gathered himself, zeroing in on the instinct to protect Lestat and grasping onto it to block out the rest.
His poor, delusional, desperate Lestat.
Closing out the video, Louis locked his phone and washed his mouth out before silently making his way back to the bedroom. He closed the window, leaving the blinds open since the windows had the same protection Louis’ penthouse in Dubai had. Discarding his phone atop his pants on the floor, Louis slid seamlessly back into Lestat’s arms, tugging his maker to lie on his chest again. Content, sleepy sounds escaped him as Lestat cuddled into Louis, wrapping himself tightly around him as if even in sleep his only wish was to keep him here.
Louis’ brow furrowed, emotion clogging his throat and tightening his lungs. Long fingers resumed their post in stroking through Lestat’s hair, pressing his mouth to the crown and resting there. Breathing the scent in, telling himself Lestat was safe. He was here in his arms, safe, and nothing was going to hurt him again if Louis had anything to say about it.
That train of thought sparked something, a comment Gabriella had made earlier about how Louis shouldn’t come to the show tomorrow. How Lestat wouldn’t want him hurt, and Louis should stick by her, she’d protect him.
As if Louis needed her protection.
A sinking feeling pulled Louis’ already leaden stomach. Something wasn’t adding up.
This concert already felt like a bad idea, but Louis had been unwilling to push Lestat before.
Now, Louis could not give a fuck about anything but protecting him. Let Lestat argue back, be angry. Louis knew the power he held over his maker, and for once intended to use it for Lestat’s own benefit.
Tomorrow, they’d deal with all of it. Together.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
When Louis opened his eyes the next evening, Lestat was still fast asleep against him and the cotton candy colors of the sun setting painted the sky, visible through the still open drapes. A content sigh escaped him, breathed against Lestat’s hair as Louis settled closer, enjoying the quiet moment of closeness before all the chaos came back.
After a few moments, the equivalent of a gentle knock on his consciousness startled him.
Louis?
Who is this?
TC. Is Lestat with you?
Louis released a tense breath, arms tightening around Lestat. Yes. Is everything okay?
Um…Her nervousness was palpable across the mental connection. Was she nervous to talk to Louis, or nervous about what she had to say? I…I’m worried about him. Louis, there’s a lot of shit that’s clicking and I’m really, really worried about him.
A sense of dread filled Louis. He’s safe, sleeping. What do you mean?
I mean, the video…Sofia is his mom?
Louis closed his eyes against the queasiness that rose within at the thought of that woman. It’s not what you think-
What I think is she’s fucking foul. I never questioned it because it wasn’t my place, and I didn’t know it was his mom, but now he’s my maker and it is my place. She constantly does shit to get his attention, to provoke him or get him to do what she wants. She fucked Jarda in the bathroom while he was talking about some of the most horrific shit he’s ever been through, Christine wouldn’t shut up about it for a week. Lestat wanted to go home after the shooting until she showed up again. She doesn’t even try to block her vile, lusty thoughts about him, projects it and what they get up to loud around all of us. We thought it was just a weird vamp thing that we didn’t understand since we’re new to the blood, but I think she’s proud of having him like that and wants everyone to know. And I can….
Louis waited patiently, allowing her to go off and then gather herself. The queasiness grew and he had to ask.
You can?
I can feel it in him. Only sometimes, when he’s so overtaken by himself that he forgets to lie to himself and guard it but I can feel his skin crawl when she touches him.
Louis clenched his throat muscles to prevent the gag that wanted to rise, unwilling to disturb the sleeping Lestat. Tears rose again, aching for what his love had been through and all that he still didn’t know. A mild curiosity about TC feeling Lestat’s emotions was there, but he could ask about it later.
Sorry. I’m sorry. Maybe this still isn’t my place, not my place to tell you all this. But I had to know he was okay. I had a weird feeling for a while, and then I saw the video and it all clicked. Maybe I’m drawing the wrong conclusions, but Louis, I don’t think he wants it. What are we gonna do?
Unbidden affection for Lestat’s fledgling blossomed, and he bit back a smile at TC’s inclusion of herself, taking her maker’s side without question or hesitation. Paying attention, caring about him in a platonic way that Lestat so clearly needed. Louis liked her, a lot.
You’re not. He doesn’t. He’s having a hard time accepting that, and what it means. Understandably. We ain’t gonna let this keep happening. I don’t trust that bitch, and I don’t want this concert to happen. I don’t know what her endgame is, but he’s not going to be her pawn anymore.
The concert? What does that-
I’m not sure, just a feeling I have. When he wakes up, I’m gonna ask him to call it off.
Okay. Let me know what he says, and I’ll let everyone else know to be prepared. I was about to head over there.
Aight. Thanks, Cookie.
Also might not be my place, but don’t fuck him up any worse, okay? Please.
Louis swallowed thickly. No. Never again.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Louis couldn’t recall precisely what he said to convince Lestat to cancel the show. A mixture of logic, which didn’t always work when Lestat had his mind made up, and appealing to his desire to please Louis and for a life together. Louis had pet his hair, held him close, and pleaded with him to call it off. Told Lestat he had a gut feeling that something terrible was going to happen, and he was afraid. Afraid everything would change, of losing Lestat, losing this fragile new hope they’d found.
None of it was a lie. Louis still didn’t feel great about it, pressuring Lestat to do something he didn’t want to do considering recent developments, but knew in his bones it was for the greater good.
Lestat admitted Gabriella was the one pushing to make the music, to “make more” and encourage the Great Conversion. Louis’ bad feeling intensified, and he used that to appeal to Lestat. Why should he do it for her? Give her another piece of himself? Lestat had gotten teary, choking out that he didn’t want to let his band and fans down. Louis assured him they would understand, and did any of that matter if it meant they could at last be together in peace? Stars shone in Lestat’s eyes at that, and he abruptly grabbed Louis and kissed him senseless.
After a heated few minutes of making out and pawing at each other, Louis had to put a stop to it before it got out of hand and then they’d never leave this bed. Not yet, not yet. They had to go and handle the concert situation, and Louis said as much. Lestat pouted, with a hopeful, “later?” Louis nodded eagerly, promising, pressing his thumb into Lestat’s lower lip and dragging it across the swollen flesh.
Louis sent TC a mental message to let her know the show was off, to let everyone know and they’d be there soon to handle the fallout. They drained some blood bags, got dressed, called the car and made their way to the massive venue. Lestat slid down in his seat, hood up and sunglasses on. Quiet and sad. Louis felt his heart break a little more at how he was trying to hide, making sure no one saw him through the window. He shouldn’t have to feel ashamed, and Louis got mad at himself all over again for contributing to that feeling the night before.
The moment they were through the doors, TC was bounding over, launching herself and throwing her slim arms around Lestat. “Lestat!”
An affectionate, authentic smile pulled at Lestat’s lips as he hugged her in return. “Bonjour, mon biscuit redoubtable.”
TC giggled, squeezing her maker tighter. She released him, then grasped his arm. “You good, man?”
Lestat’s happy expression pinched, and Louis immediately grabbed his hand. Maybe this was a bad idea, maybe they shouldn’t have come. Maybe Lestat wasn’t ready to face it all, even though he’d wanted to go through with the concert. Should’ve just taken him and left the rest to deal with it.
“I am-”
“Lestat!” That accented, sharp voice made Louis’ insides burn furiously as Lestat tensed beside him. The sound of heels clicking against the floor filled the air, and then she was there. Disregarding TC completely, grabbing Lestat and pulling him a few feet away. Louis glared as Lestat’s hand was pulled from his, holding on until the last possible moment. Gabriella stopped when they were just out of reach, getting up in Lestat’s space. “What is this about canceling?”
“We decided it would be best to not m-move forward with the event. The c-concert.” Lestat’s voice was small, but firm.
“Why? Because of that silly video?”
“I-I- yes. I do not wish to be in the public eye right now. They do not understand-”
“We are all vampires. They do not care about such nonsense, and if they do, it is not their business, hm?”
Louis’ hands tightened into fists, fighting to keep his fangs from dropping and hissing at her. Lestat glanced over at Louis and TC, nervousness radiating off him. “Y-yes, while that is true-”
“Enough of this. We will do the concert, as we’ve been planning. You’ve put so much work into this, have so much to be proud of, don’t you want them all to see you? To hear you, and know that they are not alone? You’ve been alone for so long, my love, it is time to be seen.”
Oh, hell no.
“No. Stop.” Louis commanded, taking a step towards them. He recognized what she was doing, spinning her words to have maximum impact and manipulation and he was not fucking here for it.
Gabriella sneered at Louis, baiting him. “This does not concern you, this is between Lestat and his Maman.”
Rage, sizzling and insistent. Louis’ palms felt hot. “Maybe you should try acting like a mother, instead of whatever the fuck you are!” Louis scowled at her, jaw pulsing in irritation and looking at his maker. Lestat looked stricken, not moving a muscle. Softening, Louis held out his hand, inclining his head toward the door. “Les?”
With a scoff, Gabriella placed her hands on Lestat’s chest. Ran them up, gripping his jaw and forcing him to look at her. He looked like a deer in headlights, frozen in fear. Louis wanted to rip those fucking hands off so they could never touch, never hurt Lestat again.
“Don’t listen to him. Come now, you’re frightened. I’ve always known you to become sentimental. This isn’t about him, hmm? It’s about you and me, me and you. Our legacy, all we’ve been working for. About our love and the things it can accomplish. We must do this and shape the world how we want to. You wanted me to stay and I have, yes? I’ve come, and stayed. You must show the voices you see and love them, as I see and love you.”
Louis didn’t even have time to be indignant about her quoting the book, his words to Claudia (Lestat?) in the back of that vehicle in Romania because Lestat…hesitated. Louis saw the moment his resolve wavered, when she told him those words. Those words, the implication of feeling that is all Lestat has ever wanted from anyone.
Those words Louis still couldn’t bring himself to speak.
Feeling blood boiling in his guts in utter disgust at the blatant manipulation and abuse happening before his eyes, Louis couldn’t bear it any longer. He’d tried to tell himself Lestat was his own person; he could stand up for himself and didn’t need Louis to do it for him. Wouldn’t want Louis to do it for him.
But the Lestat looking at Gabriella was not Lestat. Right now, he was a lost little boy desperate for any scrap of affection from his mother. And all she offered him instead was a mangled facsimile of love to use him for her own mechanizations, her own twisted satisfactions.
Louis couldn’t stand it, had to end it and erase that fucking look off Lestat’s face. His hand was still in the air from before, beckoning Lestat to take it. He held it a little higher, insistently. “Enough. Lestat. With me, now. I ain’t playin’.”
Lestat looked about to burst into tears, looking between the two of them. Louis hated to see it, but they needed to get out of here. Out of her slimy grasp. Distressed blue eyes fell on TC, who tilted her head towards Louis but kept her mouth shut. Smart girl.
Those eyes locked onto Louis, and Gabriella curled her fingers tighter around his jaw, claws digging in as she turned his face to her again. “If you leave, I am through. I will never come back.”
Lestat’s wounded noise and crumpling expression made Louis’ heart fracture, he wanted to grab him and hide him away from this repulsive creature, but it wasn’t his decision, wasn’t his choice to make. All he could do was stand there, offering his hand and himself as protection from the wolves.
A look of determination crossed that beautiful face, and Lestat jerked his head out of her grasp. “Good. Let me hate you. Don’t come back, Maman.”
And with that, he grabbed Louis’ hand.
Louis smiled, proud, and tugged Lestat towards him and swiftly towards the door.
You get out of here, don’t want her coming after you in spite. Louis sent out to TC, blocking Gabriella so she wouldn’t hear.
Just get him out of here. I’m good, I’ll get Sal and Alex, and we’ll go.
Gabriella screamed, stomping a foot on the ground and shouting in Italian as they walked away. Calling Lestat weak, telling him he wasn’t a man if he couldn’t stand up for himself. Calling him Louis’ lap dog, pathetic. Her screeches echoed in the stadium.
Lestat flinched, shoulders hunching and breath coming fast, tripping over his feet a bit in the wake of her vitriol. Louis wrapped an arm around his waist, ready to catch him if he stumbled or had a panic attack again. Guided him to the car, murmuring reassurances and getting him inside and out of view before climbing in next to him. Louis asked Arturo to take them home and close the partition.
“Les? Baby, you alright?”
A violent head shake was his answer as Lestat leaned back into the seat, chest heaving with painful, choked half-breaths. Louis leaned over, holding one of Lestat’s hands while running his other through golden hair. “It’s alright. It’s okay, Lestat. Just breathe, breathe.”
Lestat broke down, sobbing and covering his face with his hands.
“I know, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. It’s alright. It’ll be alright. I’m here, I got you.” Louis pulled Lestat into his arms, caging him in tight as Lestat turned his face into Louis’ shoulder, clutching onto him and wailing like a little boy. It was awful, and Louis wanted nothing more than to take Lestat’s pain into himself so he could feel a fraction less of it.
Louis kept up the soft rumbles of assurance, blinking away his own tears. “You did good, Les. You did so good, you’re so good. I got you.”
Lestat couldn’t manage anything but wordless sobs, his heartbreak thick in the air. Before long, the car pulled to a stop in front of Lestat’s home. Louis did a mental scan of the street to make sure no one was around, no one would see, and held Lestat tighter. “We’re here, gotta get out, okay?”
A shaky nod and a sniffle was his only answer, so Louis squeezed him once before hopping out of his side of the car, using vamp speed to get to Lestat’s and open the door. Lestat all but fell out of the car and into his arms. Louis caught him, pulled him away, and kicked the door closed. Lestat collapsed on the front steps of his house, sitting and pulling his legs to his chest. Louis kneeled down in front of him, pushing his hair back from his wet, bloody cheeks. “We gotta go inside, come on-”
“A-all I wanted was her l-love, and now she will n-n-never come to me again!”
“I know. I know, but Les, don’t you see? She knew that, and she used it.”
“I don’t care!” Lestat cried, face scrunched up in misery.
“I think you do.” Louis countered, trying to balance this precarious situation and be considerate of Lestat’s emotional state but be firm on what he needed to understand.
Bitter resentment filled those eyes. Lestat’s expression turned stormy, lashing out in his wounded state. “Like you are any better? ‘I’m sorry, my love ’-the only time you ever uttered that word to me, you may recall!- to lull me to complacency, to drink poisoned blood! After honey-trapping me with false affection for months!”
And fuck, that hurt.
Especially after Claudia’s revelations the previous evening.
Louis clenched his jaw so hard he was surprised his teeth didn’t shatter, a pulse of tension went through his skull. How could he explain it in a way that Lestat would believe him, that none of that was fake?
“The affection wasn’t false. It may have been weaponized -”
“Oh, spare me, Louis! I knew what you were doing but as you’ve so graciously pointed out, I am simply so desperate to be loved I ate up every crumb of the illusion!” Lestat’s eyes were wide and wild in that way only his got. His volume turned way up. Louis mentally scanned the street. He didn’t give a shit if people saw them, but it was the last thing Lestat needed right now, for someone to film his fracturing for the media.
“It wasn’t an illusion,” Louis stated firmly.
Lestat laughed, cruel and disbelieving. “I don’t believe you.”
Louis sighed, eyes slipping closed. Silently beseeching himself to remain calm. Lestat was in a bad way, had been for some time. His feelings on the matter were valid, despite how much Louis wished to combat them.
He regretted his impulse reactions last night so much. Regardless of if he’d tried to make up for them after, his words clearly left some damage in their wake. The old wounds of the past, still festering beneath them. That's okay, Louis could work with some damage, heal the old wounds, it wasn’t beyond repair.
Nothing ever was, with them.
“That’s aight, you don’t gotta believe me. You just have to understand that what that woman gave you was not love.”
Lestat hissed at him, fangs dropping and face breaking, but he did not speak.
“That’s not love, Les. Tell me you understand.” Louis pleaded, brushing away the tears that fell from his maker’s devastated eyes, hands still clutching that pretty head, such a pretty head even amidst desolation.
Defiance sparked in Lestat’s gaze, so fucking bright and tainted still by his suffering. His lips trembled, seeming to war with himself over the words he wanted to say.
“Tell me you-”
“Then what is?” Lestat choked out, his tear-streaked face filled with so much sorrow.
Louis winced, stunned into silence. It wasn’t even from the guilt, which was crushing, but from the fact that Lestat had walked this Earth almost three centuries without knowing true, unconditional love. Love that was freely given with no expectations, and out of simple appreciation and adoration. Love that stayed.
The way Louis loved him but never told him. And so Lestat believed the only form of love he could hope for was the demented advances and control of the woman who was supposed to protect him, at the very least not molest him. Or his monstrous maker who assaulted every facet of him with the delusional insistence of love.
Louis got caught up in his thoughts, and Lestat cried even harder. Scrambling to find the right words and coming up short, he slid one hand to the base of Lestat’s skull and gripped it. “Not. That.”
Another hysterical laugh. “There are only three creatures to ever express any form of love for me in my long, lonely life. My maker, who loved me as he ruined me. And Gabriella. The only constant.”
“Magnus didn’t fuckin’ love you, Lestat! What do you- you know what, nah, we’re not even goin' there right now. We’re talking about Gabriella. Is she, though? I didn’t even know about her, so she can’t have been around too much for a good while. Is she constant, or does she leave?”
Lestat’s lip wobbled.
“How does she show you she loves you? She stay when she don’t need something? She give a shit about your feelings, your well-being? She respect your boundaries?”
And god, Louis knew most of those applied to him for the majority of their relationship, too. But that was all gonna change.
Lestat shook his head, a fresh wave of tears falling.
Louis had to know. “Who’s the other?”
His maker smiled, soft and fond and Louis felt a jab of irrational jealousy until he spoke the name. “TC.”
A warm smile rose to his own face, appreciative. “Yeah, she’s a good one.” Lestat sniffled, bolstered by the reminder that his newest fledgling had unadulterated affection for him and did not hesitate to express it.
Louis inhaled deeply and let it out, the hand still on Lestat’s cheek resuming its stroking of precious flesh as he tried again. “Here’s what’s gonna happen. We’re gonna go inside. Gonna show you what real love fuckin’ feels like-” Lestat shuddered, eyes slipping closed, “And then we’re gonna go away together for a while. Gonna take care of it all. All you gotta do is nod your beautiful head.”
An exhalation of sweet disbelief, blood tears staining his cheeks and expression cracking Louis’ heart wide as he nodded.
Louis nodded back, even though Lestat’s eyes were still closed, cradling his head between his palms. “Okay?”
Those eyes opened, and Lestat looked back at him with so much love. Love that was as pure as it was disarming, as it always was. “Okay.”
Louis slid his hands from Lestat’s head to his shoulders, gently encouraging him to his feet. Louis took his big hand into his own, twining their fingers together and grabbing the keys from above. He unlocked the door, closing it behind them, throwing them to the table just inside and tugging Lestat along to his bedroom.
He sat Lestat on the edge of the bed, vamping to the bathroom to grab a washcloth, wet it and return to Lestat’s side. Louis gently wiped Lestat’s face until it was clean, while his maker stared at the floor. He looked so beaten down, and Louis couldn’t take it anymore.
Dropping the cloth to the ground, Louis brushed a thumb under Lestat’s eye. “There. All clean. Lay back for me?”
Lestat followed his request, scooting back until he was centered on the bed and lying down with his open palms by his sides. He was shaking.
Louis crawled along the side of his body like a panther, slow and deliberate. He braced himself with one arm on either side of Lestat’s head, hovering. “This okay?”
An annoyed huff, bratty roll of his eyes. “Yes. I am not going to break, Louis.”
Louis smiled fondly, lowering himself to press against his husband. “Kay.” He wasted no more time, dropping his face to Lestat’s neck to inhale his scent, taste his skin. Louis pressed soft, chaste kisses all along his throat. His pulse point to his jaw, across his cheek and ear, his temple and his nose. Nipped at those perfect pink lips, before shoving his tongue in and ravaging that mouth.
Lestat moaned, opening his mouth wide as his arms came up around Louis to pull him closer. Not an inch of space between them, nothing but instant heat and desire crackling along their skin. The kiss was filthy and adoring, all wet tongues and biting teeth and love.
Louis wanted to fuck him, make him feel his love. Fill him up with it in a way that Gabriella couldn’t.
Wanted to take Lestat within himself, the body meant to take him and hold him inside, not the one that birthed him. He didn’t want to recreate it, per se, but needed to know that there was a difference with Louis riding him, expression of awe and rapture instead of anguish. Wanted Lestat to come alive beneath him, make him responsive and excited, willing and actively participating. Needed to show him how it was supposed to be.
So, both, Louis decided.
Louis unzipped Lestat’s hoodie, pushing it off his shoulders as he broke the kiss, eager to get his mouth on the rest of Lestat. He nibbled and licked his way across those broad shoulders, dipping his tongue in the hollow at the front of his throat and scraping a fang there. Lestat bucked underneath him, gripping Louis’ shoulders and already overwhelmed. Louis continued mapping his chest with his mouth while his hands worked on removing Lestat’s pants, tugging them off until his maker was gloriously bare.
“Beautiful…” Louis murmured, taking a nipple between his teeth and biting down. Lestat groaned, chest jerking, kicking at Louis’ pants.
“Lou-Louis your clothes…s’il te plaît…”
“Course.” Louis unwound himself from Lestat’s limbs, rising up and divesting himself of his clothes as quickly as he could. Pressed himself back into Lestat, skin on skin at last. It was electrifying.
Louis’ hands were everywhere, tracing over every inch of flesh. Cherishing him with his mouth, worshipful and sweet. Lestat was still shaking, trying to hold himself still almost as if afraid of interfering. Louis just kept touching him, kissing him all over until Lestat was crying from it, hips twitching and cock leaking.
Lips against Lestat’s sternum, Louis slid one hand to grip Lestat’s weeping cock and rolled his wrist. Lestat shuddered, hips jumping into Louis’ touch.
“This what you want, baby?” Louis asked, letting his accent bleed in more than usual to make it thick, honeyed.
“Anything, Louis, anything,” Lestat whined, drunk on it already and so, so pliant.
It was a shame Louis had a point to make, couldn’t indulge that syrupy space Lestat was sinking into. Another time. “Not anything. What do you want?”
A sob threaded with frustrated desire. “You, just you just you, please-”
“Okay. Okay.” Louis soothed, pressing a kiss to Lestat’s lips before lifting off for a moment to pull open the bedside drawer, hoping to find what he needed. Lestat did not disappoint, a bottle of lube there just as Louis hoped. He quickly went back to Lestat, slotting between his legs and kneeling there to kiss and bite along his thighs while Louis slicked his fingers. Both hands.
Louis gently traced Lestat’s rim, getting it wet and Lestat shivering in anticipation. He dipped the tip of one finger in, watching the tight flesh accept him inside with a groan. He pushed in and out a few times, stroking the walls lovingly on the way out and aiming for the sweet spot within that would make his lover fall to pieces. Lestat was moaning and writhing already, head tossed back and legs sprawled wide. Shameless in his bliss and distracted, just how Louis wanted him.
Time for a bit more distraction. “Yeah, eyes closed. Keep them closed for me, okay? Just feel. Just feel me, Lestat.”
Lestat’s big cock twitched against his stomach, a small pink puddle of precome already pooling in his navel. Louis couldn’t resist leaning in and licking it up, moaning at the flavor, blood and seed of his maker. The little taste at the bar already had Louis feeling insane for it, aching for more but there would be time for that later.
Louis kept his eyes locked on Lestat’s face, contorted in ecstasy, as he slid his second finger in. Lestat’s hips were giving tiny little jerks, but he let Louis do as he pleased and listened. Louis spread his knees more, using his thighs and core for balance so he could work Lestat open while reaching between his own legsto open himself up.
“We’re gonna go away. You and me. Me and you.”
Lestat wailed, head thrashing. He’d read the book. He understood. “M-me and you?”
“Yeah, Les. You and me. Just us. Gonna pack your shit, call my plane, and I’m gonna fly us away. You’re gonna pick somewhere. We gon’ buy a tiny, beautiful trailer and hide away from the world together. I’m gonna steal you away, keep you all to myself. We’re gonna go to the desert and you’re gon’ watch birds. We’re gonna plant primrose, and watch them bloom every night in our cheap ass foldin’ chairs and everything is going to be beautiful because you see me and I see you, Lestat, always seen you even when I was blinded or my eyes were closed.”
He leaned up, licking along the scar over Lestat’s heart. Lestat was a mess, head thrown back, face wet and chest heaving. Louis removed his fingers from himself just before Lestat’s eyes flew open. Shining bright as he soaked in Louis’ adoration, imploring and desperate. Louis chuckled, reaching between them with his freed hand to stroke Lestat’s cock as the tips of his fingers rubbed mercilessly against his prostate. The sound that left Lestat sent a sharp trickle of pleasure down Louis’ spine, and he kept at it so he could hear it some more. Lestat’s thighs quivered as they wrapped around him, heels digging into Louis’ hips.
Louis was dizzy with adoration, the words kept tumbling out.
“Even when it’s not, when it’s ugly and hard and we want to kill each other, it'll still be beautiful because it’s us. And we chose each other. I choose you, Lestat. I need you to choose me, too.”
Lestat was visibly overwhelmed, letting out a short hysterical laugh before devotion poured out as he stared into Louis’ soul. “I do, I have! I am, always. Mon cher. Toujours, Louis, Louis, s’il te plaît!”
“I know, I know. I’m sorry it took so long, baby, but I’m here.” Louis’ voice was thick with emotion, capturing Lestat’s lips in a searing kiss. Lestat pawed at his back, rolling his hips impatiently and thrusting into Louis’ hand. Panting into his mouth, and Louis could melt from the heat of him, of them. Louis pulled his hands and mouth away, to a whine of protest until he pressed himself to Lestat’s hole. Louis let everything he felt for Lestat flood his eyes, felt the fondness on his own expression as he slid home. Slow, reverent.
Tight, wet heat. The feel of his maker’s silken insides gripping him like nothing else ever had. Lestat, desperate and taking him, moaning and safe and here, under him, trusting him. So fucking gorgeous it almost brought tears to Louis’ eyes to behold.
Louis started moving, the slowest roll of his hips. Savoring every motion. Just enough to feel it, the slick glide of them together again. Fused and close, never, ever close enough. Lestat clung onto him, legs wrapped around Louis’ hips and lifting his own to meet them in a sensual dance, the sole composer of the greatest pleasure Louis had ever known.
They rocked together until Lestat started to wriggle impatiently, panting and babbling, “Oh, Louis, harder, please please, fuck me-”
Louis swirled his hips viciously, earning a wail, before pulling almost all the way out and slamming back in. The sounds coming from his maker were melting his brain, and Louis wanted more, more, more. His hips moved ruthlessly, slipping one arm under Lestat’s shoulder to clasp it, pulling him down and ramming in as deep as he could get.
“Like that? Feel good, Les?” Louis questioned breathily, drinking in the pleasure apparent on Lestat’s features. Lestat felt so good around him, snug and pulsing and responsive but it was secondary to witnessing his maker, radiant in his rapture.
“Yesss, oh, Mon Dieu,” Lestat gasped, nails digging into Louis’ shoulders, his lower back and sending tiny pinpricks of delicious pain sparkling down Louis’ spine.
Louis waited until Lestat was close, tightening around him like a vice. His hips pumped with borderline vampiric speed. Lestat’s moans blurred together, incessant, completely lost in it. Louis lifted one hand from the bed to hold that precious, fragile creature in his palm and slide his thumb across his cheekbone. Their hearts pounded in tandem and Louis was awed by their symmetry, their perfect sync. Focused on the bottomless want, the eternal need and fathomless love he held inside for this man. Bit his tongue until it welled up, so the truth of it would show in the blood. He kissed Lestat, spreading it there, knowing Lestat would instinctively lick it up. “You feel it, baby, feel it in my blood? My blood, the blood you gave me, all swirled up with love?”
Lestat’s eyes rolled back, and he nodded, whimpering. “L-Lou-”
“Look at me, Les,” Louis coaxed, slowing his thrusts but hitting deep while Lestat fought the haze of pleasure to obey him. When he did, Louis let the love seep into his eyes again as he bottomed out with a sharp thrust, circling his hips and crushing his pelvic bone to Lestat’s to get as deep as possible. Lestat took a choking, gasping breath and his thighs shook violently.
The bluest eyes swam with red as Lestat cried out, “Louis!”
Pulling back slowly took all of his control, velvet walls clenching and begging him to stay inside. Louis withdrew, to a look of utter, betrayed confusion from Lestat. Louis gently pushed Lestat’s legs together, bringing his knees to bracket Lestat’s hips and placing him at Louis’ still slick entrance, sinking down in one smooth motion.
Lestat convulsed, mouth dropping open in ecstasy as his hands flew to grip Louis’s hips. That gorgeous, almost wounded sound ripping from his chest again and Louis salivated as he shivered at the sensation of having Lestat inside him again. Full, full, so wonderfully full.
Countless lovers across decades, and nothing felt like this. Louis’ heart swelled, his cock bounced against his stomach as he ground his hips in a circle again. Skin buzzing, enjoying being the one stuffed full of cock. His inner walls fluttered, the heat inside him rising as Lestat gazed up at him in wonder. Louis leaned back, placing his hands by Lestat’s knees and rolling his hips, keening as he found the angle he was looking for, nailing his sweet spot as he fucked himself on Lestat’s cock. Wanton and unashamed, just like Lestat liked him.
No shame, not for either of them, ever again.
Lestat’s cock jumped inside of him, his breaths shuddery and short, voice wavering, “Oh, Louis, I-I am overcome! You are…merde, you are unreal, you impossible creature, Louis, my Louis-”
Louis leaned forward and bit his own tongue again, sliding it along Lestat’s lips. Dripping his blood, steeped in devotion, onto them for Lestat to lick at while Louis pulled back enough to look him in the eyes so the weight of his words would hit home.
“I love you. I love you, Lestat, me. You’re mine. You’re mine, you’re mine, you’re mine, and I’m yours. I want it all, too, the brutal and the bitter and the bright fucking light inside of you.” Louis’ breath hitched along with his hips, the pleasure building sharply now with the burst of emotional release. Finally, speaking these things he’d once been ashamed of, afraid of, for over a century but no longer. “All of it, all of you. Never fucking leaving again… Love you. Love you so much.”
Lestat shook through his confession, which Louis sealed with a soft, loving kiss and twist of his hips. Lestat shattered apart with a sob, his forehead scrunching up. Nails digging in to the flesh of Louis’ ass as Lestat gripped him, pulled him down, clutched him desperately. Eyes almost comically wide, his body shuddering as he was washed over with pleasure. Beautiful, pure, loving pleasure. No shame, no anguish. Louis watched, enchanted, sighing at the sensation of Lestat filling him up.
Louis felt like he was going to burst, gorged on this thing between them, but he needed something. He sat up, dragging Lestat’s still thickened cock along his walls as he grabbed one of the hands on his hips, bringing it to his lips to suck on two of those fingers, fangs sinking in. That taste, Lestat, coated his tongue, his throat, his insides as he swallowed it down. His eyes rolled back, cheeks hollowing, moaning in ecstasy, filled with Lestat in every possible way. Louis’ orgasm slammed into him, savage in its suddenness. Heat bloomed throughout his body, cock spurting all over their stomachs as his hips rolled frantically, drawing every last spark out.
Before he could even collapse forward in exhaustion, Lestat was gathering him in his arms and pulling him to his chest. Crying, ridiculous man was always crying.
“Shhh, shhh, s’okay,” Louis slurred, nuzzling his face into the golden hair in front of him and wrapping his arms around his lover. “You okay?”
Lestat nodded, arms clutching onto Louis like he was afraid he would disappear if he let go. “You said the most beautiful things, chéri. As I said, I am simply overcome.”
Louis smiled, pressing a kiss to the scar on the side of Lestat’s mouth. Filled with warmth and feeling so light. “I meant ‘em.” Lestat’s eyes filled with tears again, but he laughed. He laughed, he cried, and he kissed Louis like Louis was the only thing that mattered in the world.
After some kisses and drowning each other with affection, Louis cleaned them up. They collapsed together, bodies and souls entwined. Louis let them sink into it for a while, into each other, all soft touches and drugging kisses again before pulling back to whisper against Lestat’s lips, “You got me, you understand?”
“I understand you, my love, mon âme.” The sweetest kiss, soaking in their thrumming bond and calming hearts. “I love you. I could never hope for the words to express how much.”
And so they basked in it, this peace they’d finally found. Within themselves, and each other.
There were ghosts in their hallways, phantoms in their hearts and wreckage in their souls that would never fully go away.
But for the first time, they were no longer alone with it all.
And perhaps love, spoken plainly at last, could make even haunted places feel like home.