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The damp smell of the coffin’s velvet lining takes up the space between them, though there’s not much. Lestat’s been asleep for hours now; on the contrary, Louis, who’s been awake all day.
Louis’ head rests on Lestat’s bicep, which is wet with sweat formed between them due to the abnormal humidity of the new season that has befallen them. The smell of it is enticing, and it takes over his senses in a way that not even blood could—admittedly, he might be overexaggerating, but what he knows is that it smells good, so their influences on his body should at least be fairly comparable—and it drives him to the edge of a peak called ecstasy.
Louis stays still and listens to Lestat’s resting heartbeat, his chest rising with every breath he takes; if this is what eternity after death looks like, he’ll grow to like immortality just fine. He, finally, rests up on one elbow, hand still under Lestat’s sweaty arm, and rotates to lie on his stomach. He then grips Lestat’s bicep with both hands now, his mouth and nose pressed against his skin, allowing him to fully take the scent in. This is perverted, he thinks. Is it weird that he wants to lick him? The idea sounds disgusting… at least to a normal person, which Louis has already begun to accept he’s not. So, he gives in.
His tongue snakes its way out of his mouth, he gives small, gentle licks to start as a way of testing the waters. The salty taste of him makes him shiver with excitement—and something more—as he groans. He grips Lestat’s arm harder than before and, with newfound confidence, starts lapping at it, collecting the day’s built-up sweat on his tongue and savoring every last bit of it. His eyes remain on Lestat’s face as he does so. He finds it makes him feel electric to know he’s completely unaware of what’s happening to him as he rests as peacefully as he is.
When he knows he cannot contain himself any longer, Louis decides he wants to bite him. He rarely drinks from Lestat, and so the mere thought of it awakens his arousal instantly as he starts lightly grazing his fangs on his skin. He roughly presses his erection against the coffin floor as he finally bites the bicep as hard as he can. Blood gushes out while Louis sucks on it fervently. Lestat starts shifting around uncomfortably, but, somehow doesn’t wake up. Louis’ too high on his arousal to care anyway, and part of him wishes Lestat would wake up and see what he’s done; so, he bites again.
This is what does it. This time, Lestat winces and opens his eyes to meet Louis’, he offers a small smirk and, with no words spoken between them, brings Louis’ face to his own. He licks off his own blood and moans as he does so. The thought of Louis needing him and taking what he wants as he lay unconscious does something to him as well, and Louis could tell. After licking him clean, Lestat initiates a kiss between them, one so hungry that they both accidentally nip at each other’s lips, causing them to bleed.
Louis pats at Lestat’s groin as Lestat tastes himself in the kiss, and then they part. “What are you doing, mon cher? Did you think I wouldn’t wake up with how vigorously you’ve bitten me?” Lestat whispers as he caresses his face and stares at him longingly. “I did,” Louis replies, “I wanted you to wake up.” This answer more than satisfies Lestat. He smiles at Louis once more and grabs Louis’ arm to lick a long stripe along it before he bites down on his forearm.
Louis gasps and moans in response, he begins grinding against Lestat in the very finite and confined space they have. No one’s gotta tell them they’re being too loud for them to notice, which they do eventually. Louis pants, unable to get the words out until he finally does. “Gotta quiet down ‘fore they start knockin’ on our door talkin’ ‘bout ‘crimes against nature’, Les, baby.” Lestat giggles but doesn’t quiet down any. If anything, he gets louder.
He grinds against him harder, too. Louis’ belly tightens as he approaches his release; only when Lestat cums does he cum. They don’t get up to clean themselves and choose to sleep as they are.
They’re holding each other by their necks now, still impossibly allured by the others' gaze. Moments like these are when they wish they could read the other’s mind. Lestat’s lips part once more before succumbing to his tiredness, “Saint Louis, you’ll never understand just how blessed I am to have you, and I shall remind you of this every single day of my eternal existence.” His delivery breathless, as if he’d choke to death on the words if he didn’t let them out. All Louis can do is smile, his eyes getting glossier as the moment ages.
He blinks away the tears and whispers back to him, “Watchu gotta say stuff like that for? Stop.” Lestat smiles back at him and presses their mouths together yet again. They kiss for what feels like an eternity, and they can feel the other smiling into the kiss. Nothing could break this, they both think. Nothing.
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Upon nights arrival later that day, Louis heals the wounds he left on Lestat with his own blood, and Lestat does the same for him.
They get ready to do their nightly rounds on Liberty, as has been their routine for years now. Louis yells upstairs from downstairs, “Les, you know where the keys at?”
“I believe you left them on the table next to the davenport, mon cœur,” Lestat shouts back down. He grabs his hat and finally makes his way downstairs; meanwhile, Louis’ still in the search for his keys. As Lestat’s about to help him look, they hear a loud, stern knock at the door.
“What could anyone want that involves us at this hour?” Louis says, now having found his keys on a counter, walking to the living room from the kitchen right as Lestat opens the front door.
They’re greeted by a white police officer they’ve often seen while on Liberty Street, a street as crime-ridden as that one needs constant policing, something Tom Anderson had said once. The officer begins, “Hello, good sir, hello, mister Du Lac! How’s life been treatin’ y’all?”
Not making any attempts to hide his disinterest, Louis replies, “We been just fine. Sorry to ask, but what business do you seek here, exactly?” Lestat stares at the officer in curiosity, waiting to see if this conversation’ll be a complete and total waste of their time.
“Well, we’ve received yet another complaint regarding ‘strange noises’ coming from this residence.” Ah, so a waste of time it is… he thinks.
The irritation on Louis’ face is evident, and, with a little more bass in his voice, he replies, “Every time you bang yo fist against my door it’s always about some asinine noise complaint. As it always is. If I was you, I’d stop wastin’ my time botherin’ innocent people, sir.”
The officer starts again. “These are crimes against nature we’re talking about here—”
Lestat rolls his eyes at the phrase and speaks over him, “I can assure you no crimes against nature are being committed under our roof. You must find something else to occupy your time. I assume you must be bored, seeing as you keep bothering us with these pesky complaints. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have important business to attend to—oh, and, please, hesitate to come back here again.” The officer steps aside—clearly feeling extremely disrespected—allowing them to exit the house and walk towards their car. They both open the car doors and get inside.
After sitting in the car for less than ten seconds, Louis looks over at Lestat and laughs. “Ain’t I tell you this was gone happen ‘less you stop bein’ so loud?” he says.
“That you did,” Lestat moves his arm around the driver’s seat and smiles, “but how could I control myself?”
“Ew, stop that.”
“C’mon, you enjoy it.”
“I do not.” He does.