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The bobblehead wobbled about as Louis absently batted at the head, just because he could. Because his fingers listened, they moved. He could feel them, could flex them and touch things and poke and prod. Lost in thought as he sat at an uncomfortable ass table on a filthy bus. Waiting for the most recent horrors to align and process in his brain. His mind was still trying to remember what it felt like to belong inside his body. He’d sucked down a few of the blood bags in the bus fridge to recuperate his strength, constantly stocked now that there were so many vampires aboard.
The fans outside of the bus were screaming incessantly, loud and hyped and frothing at the mouth for a sight of their idol.
Louis understood.
He too was growing restless. An itch under his skin buzzing, thrumming, calling for the other half of his heart. Lestat had not woken yet, and although Louis was well aware of Lestat’s capacity for enduring, he couldn’t help but wonder just when that capacity would reach its limit.
Wonder when his own capacity would reach its limit.
This never-ending day sure came close.
Disoriented upon waking from the dreamless rest he’d sunk into, Louis had a hard landing back into the waking world. The feeling of being whole once again almost surreal after the disconnect of his mind from his body. The last thing he remembered was confessing to Armand, finally giving him what he asked for. Under extreme and torturous duress the confession had been spoken, the words true nonetheless.
Louis couldn’t linger on those thoughts right now, empathy towards Armand the very last thing he was inclined to process.
He could hear her talking in the other room. Speaking to the Talamasca agents and the fledglings, last minute preparations and contingency plans for if Lestat didn’t wake in time. Louis felt his lips curl back. She wasn’t even concerned for Lestat’s mental return, once again only wanting to use his body for her own sick means to an end.
Her toy, her puppet, dancing on his strings so long as it gets her to gaze upon him with affection.
Feeling nauseous on top of the infuriating sensation of being an alien in his own body, the physical dissociation was taking longer to dissipate than he’d like.
The recollection hit hard, the contradictory horror of being in two places at once. He remembered wanting to move, more vividly than he’d remembered possessing limbs at the time.
Armand went off about being a room without walls, an infinite nothing. And in his infinite nothing, he turned Louis’ body into a house with all the doors locked from the outside. Louis could so clearly remember wanting nothing more than to move, remembered swatting at Armand helplessly whenever he came within reach.
Regina’s crying, terrified face, begging not to die. Too close. The eyes were wrong, but the features were exact and the terrified expression on them tore at his heartstrings. Even after finding out the grand scheme of Armand’s, how Regina’s presence was always planned and implanted, it didn’t change the fact that she looked just like Claudia.
Louis recalled his own words to Armand, written and otherwise, about it never being about him. Was never about him, always about Lestat. Admitting to his tormentor, the monster he’d mistakenly built a life with for 77 years, things he’d never yet spoken to Lestat. Or anyone.
Love…of my life…was him. Even now…thinking about him.
After recent developments, realizations, and rekindling Louis refused to deny his love for his maker, refused to reduce Lestat to anything less than the everything he was to Louis. Never again. Armand wanted the truth, he got the truth. Imprisoned him in his own mind, forced him to watch, to feel, as Armand weaponized the things he cared about to get acknowledgement about things Louis wasn’t certain he deserved. The words Louis spoke about not wanting to think on Armand’s abuse and the mirror it held up were true, but being coerced into admitting them was beyond fucked up and Louis was still reeling from it all.
From Armand deliberately targeting the things Louis viewed as precious, sacred, using every button Armand had learned the shape of in their time together as a blade to cut into Louis in…revenge? For never forgiving him for his part in Claudia’s death, for his almost century of deceit? Louis couldn’t parse it, but then again, such a thing was to be expected when it came to Armand.
He recalled the cold terror in his consciousness upon seeing Lestat’s headless body, laid out on a slab like a piece of meat. The way Armand’s fingers danced across his chest, sinister. Recalled how it ripped at the seams of his soul, watching yet another hand that had no right, no permission, no wholehearted, enthusiastic consent touching that body.
“What about this?”
“Don’t…Don’t….touch him…”
“And why not? Are you not aware by now, Louis, that this beautiful body, this generous endowment, is all he is good for?”
Forcibly pulling himself out of the mental spiral of that horrendous moment, getting lost in his head and then being suddenly conscious of his physical presence was jarring. Louis gasped softly and tried to gather himself. Reminded himself of the rabid strangers outside, about to bear witness to his own fracturing. Louis breathed tremulously, gathering himself and closing his eyes.
He really wanted Lestat to wake up. Needed it. Needed to hear his voice, see those sparkling, devoted eyes and feel that skin, warm and real. See his body move of its own accord, connected and healing and whole.
No sooner had he thought it, did his heart start to race.
Just knowing Lestat was gaining consciousness was like a balm to Louis’ soul. He didn’t bother getting up, staying right where he was. Away from the chaos at the top of the bus, unwilling and unable to be in the midst of it all as they all bombarded Lestat. Louis listened as reality returned to Lestat in pieces. Confusion. Questions. Footsteps, Layered voices.
As that disgusting creature that birthed the love of his life spun her webs around him, trying to appeal to him to take the stage after such a traumatic experience despite his obvious discombobulation.
Knew the moment the disorientation snapped away, heard the panic in his voice as there was a sharp increase in their shared heartbeat. His booming, scared inflection echoed through the whole bus. “Where is Louis?!”
Louis smiled, small and private, as footsteps stomped down the bus steps. Because of course the moment Lestat came back to himself in a real way, the first thing he thought of was Louis.
And oh, relief. Wondrous relief as Lestat rushed into the room, only slowing as soon as his eyes landed on Louis. Those stunning eyes turned soft and pacified. Tension left his shoulders as he moved to sit near Louis, hesitantly leaving a wooden seat as a barrier between them. Didn’t hesitate to drape his arm across the back of Louis’ seat, gently running fingers along his jagged scar. Louis used the backs of his knuckles to gently do the same, brushing adoringly against Lestat’s cheek for good measure before he dropped his hand. Couldn’t stop the influx of sappy thoughts, the sticky sweet drip of affection like honey through his veins.
You’re alive. You’re whole, my love, you’re here.
Louis saw the same sentiment reflected in Lestat’s eyes, appreciation and safety and solace. His lips twitched, sinking into those eyes and allowing the comfort of Lestat’s presence to wash over him. He couldn’t say any of those things, not here, not now. Hoped his reverent touches and the words he could speak expressed the sentiment for him. “So. Trailer park?”
Lestat tilted his head towards Louis a bit, not sparing a glance for the screaming fans banging on the window for a sliver of his attention. He only had eyes for Louis. “Evening primrose.”
Louis tilted his head too, gazing up at his maker, sincerity radiating from somewhere deep within that he was exhausted from trying to hide. “Birds.”
He wanted it. More than anything, he wanted them to go away, be away. From all this noise, all this fucking bullshit. Wanted Lestat all to himself, the two of them safe and tucked away for as long as they could stand it. Where they could talk and fuck and fight and love and heal. There had already been so much to heal from, and this evening was just the cherry on top of the sundae of fuckery.
Louis couldn’t help but shift into Lestat’s space a little, the warmth of his arm behind him, the feather-light touches. Soothing, stroking fingers on the back of Louis’ neck. Lestat’s presence stabilized something within Louis that had been vibrating and anxious. Knew people were looking through the open window, could see him. See them, basking in the other’s existence and survival. There would probably be pictures all over the internet by the end of the evening, and Louis didn’t care one fucking bit.
All that sweetness came to a halt as the silver-haired elephant in the tour bus came into the room. Louis watched Lestat’s valid crashout, pride swelling within him at the defiance and refusal to bend to her whims. Irritation and protectiveness at her dismissal of Lestat's words, how belittling and obnoxious she was. Louis pursed his lips, staying silent because as much as he wanted to throw his two cents in, rip her to shreds with the patented de Pointe du Lac cruelty, Lestat needed to do this for himself. Louis’ presence seemed to bolster him, the hope that had bloomed between them last night showing Lestat an alternative future than the path he was currently on. Stoking a fire within him Louis was glad to see. Emerald eyes moved back and forth between the two until Lestat finally had enough, face red, voice thunderous and agitated.
“You go on stage! You get torn apart! You do it because I am not going onstage! I am not fucking singing, you fucking monster!”
If she was shocked at her maker-victim-son finally putting his foot down, she did not show it. Tucked her chin down condescendingly and lowered her hands. Glanced those cold, calculating eyes Louis’ way and scoffed, “You see? This is what happens.”
Gabriella took a few steps towards him, and Lestat’s shoulders visibly tensed. Her thick-accented voice slithered in the air.
“You find someone to worship, to distract you from your endless loneliness, your clinging need. You empty yourself into them, and they disappoint you.”
Lestat was shaking, hands gripping the top of the wooden bench. The fire that burned within him just moments before was dimming, and Louis’ spine straightened in indignation for his maker. His chin lifted, eyes narrowing and if she took one more step towards Lestat, Louis was going to lose it. He was doing his best to stay out of it, but found himself gritting his teeth so hard it reverberated down his sore throat in an effort to stay silent.
“And then you call for me, and I come, and yet you call me a monster.”
“I-I only wanted you to s-sit with me-” The return of the stutter made Louis’ heart clench as he watched Lestat begin to instinctively back down before squaring his shoulders, a spark of defiance roaring back to life. “Why do you only come when I am broken? Why do you only care for what you can take from me, push me to do?”
Gabriella smiled, chilling, mocking. “Because. You cannot stand on your own. Who else will pick up your pieces when you fall apart for the world to see? Make you be a man?” She paused, watching as Lestat’s face started to pinch in emotion, blood tears welling up. “Everything I have done has been in service of your greatness. And all you do is cry, and cry, and cry.” She began to step towards Lestat again, reaching out a hand, intending to swipe the sole tear that had fallen at her words.
And Louis was back in that butcher shop, disembodied, helpless. Watching Armand’s slender fingers trace over Lestat’s ribcage. As that lilting voice threatened to dismember and desecrate Lestat’s body beyond repair, Louis could do nothing.
Louis snarled, his control snapped as he rose to his feet. Now, it was instinctive. To place his newly-reoccupied body between Lestat and another of his abusers, to use it to protect the man he loved. Planting himself in front of Lestat to stop her advance as Louis caught her wrist, quick as a viper. His skin tingled in revulsion, nails gripping as he allowed the heat of his anger to manifest in a flare of fire along his palm. Growling around his fangs, “Back the fuck up.”
He released her wrist, glaring as he did so and feeling a bit smug at the scent of burnt flesh in the air. He could feel Lestat staring at him, felt his man stand up a little taller and take up more space.
Gabriella took a step back. She looked at the reddened imprint on her wrist, knitting together already. Then at Louis, as though she had believed him incapable of baring his teeth. “You think this is protection?” Those glacial eyes slid to Lestat, before landing back on Louis with a sneer. “And how will you handle being responsible for his happiness? Come and go, and come and go? Round and round until he calls for his first fledgling, all alone again.”
Louis’ lip twitched in disgust. He wanted to tell her how twisted her view was, how he was her son and he wasn’t something to be endured or ignored until he became useful -understanding the bit of hypocrisy there for his own recent actions treating Lestat similarly to a less severe degree, but that wasn’t the point- though he resisted. He took a deep, steadying breath and sneered right back. “That’s the difference between you and me. I’mma stick around.”
Tentative fingers curled around Louis’ wrist, and he tore his gaze from his monster-in-law to look at Lestat. Lestat, who stepped up to stand beside him, eyes filled to the brim with incredulous devotion. Despite all of the negative emotions raging within, Louis couldn’t help but smile at him. Lestat’s lips twitched for a split second, but tightened when he turned to Gabriella.
“I am not doing it. I will not. I cannot perform at the caliber my beautiful unwell expects of me, both of us need to rest and recover. You will leave. Whatever reason you have come back into my life, it is, as it usually is, merely self-serving and I cannot abide your presence any longer.”
With contempt clear on her face, Gabriella looked at Lestat’s hand on Louis’ wrist, the two of them standing side-by-side. “So this is your answer?” A firm nod from Lestat, a toss of his hair as if daring her to question him once more. She shrugged, dismissive. “Very well. When they devour you out there…” A glance towards the window, where the still-screaming fans were. “Do not come looking for me.”
With that, she turned on her heel and began to walk toward the door at the front of the bus.
“I won’t.” Lestat stated, strong and determined. “Not this time.”
Without another word, she stepped off the bus and was gone.
Lestat deflated, shaken up from the events of the day and the confrontation. Louis turned to him, and offered a small smile. “Wanna get the hell out of here?”
Eyes clear and bright like a summer’s day shifted toward him, softening. “I would love nothing more, Louis. How do you propose we do such a thing?”
Louis moved to the fridge, grabbing a handful of blood bags and handing them to Lestat. “Drink up, and let’s fly the fuck home. Doubt any of them out there have the Cloud Gift, won’t be able to follow us. I’ll call a car while you pack, call my plane to meet us. Go to one of my off-grid places until we figure out where to go from there. Think you can manage it?”
Louis knew this would be a good time to tell Lestat he had full use of the Cloud Gift now, with Lestat’s powerful blood in his veins -and the many years of drinking from Armand, he reluctantly had to admit- coupled with the fact that he was no longer malnourished and depleting himself. But he was still feeling disconnected from his body, in a way he knew was more than just physical, and while he did not know what Lestat’s consciousness had been through in that time he trusted him to tell Louis if he was incapable of flying them away.
Lestat looked at him as if in a daze, and Louis’ brows twitched down in concern. Iridescent eyes flicked between the bags, Louis’ face and the door. “You…You would trust me with such a thing?”
Taking a deep breath, Louis crowded closer to Lestat, stroking a hand up his bicep and squeezing his shoulder. Looking him dead in the eye to ensure no room for misinterpretation.
Even now, I’m still the only one you trust.
Some things never change.
“Yeah, Les. I would.”
Bursting into tears, Lestat dropped the bags of blood and doubled over. Louis ran his hand across his hair, his neck, caressing the line where they’d reconnected his precious head to his body and smoothed his hand up and down his maker’s spine in an attempt to soothe. They’d both had big, draining days and Lestat was an emotionally volatile creature on a good day. Louis waited patiently for Lestat to get it out, and when he straightened up again with wet cheeks, Louis embraced him.
“Louis! Louis, I will hold you so tightly! So tightly, I swear it. You must not be frightened, I will never let go, never let you fall again! It is the deepest regret of my existence, how I wish-”
Closing his eyes against the rising tears, Louis buried his face in Lestat’s hair as his man trembled in his arms. He interrupted, solely because he was too mentally and physically exhausted to let Lestat spiral into apologies right now. “I know. I know you ain’t gon’ drop me. Now, eat. So we can go before some other catastrophic circumstance keeps us from our nice little hideaway? Separates us again? Please?”
Nodding vehemently, Lestat pulled away from Louis, sniffling and wiping his face with the backs of his hands. Louis nodded back encouragingly, picking the bags of blood off the floor and offering them.
“Did you eat?”
“I did, before you woke up.”
Lestat nodded again, accepting his answer and hastily draining the bags and throwing them to the table beside them. While he did so, Louis pulled out his phone and made the arrangements for the the car to retrieve them when they were done getting their things from Lestat’s home. When it was all done, they moved together to stand before the entrance to the bus. Lestat lovingly caressed the scar on his neck, its artless stitching and jagged edges, and wrapped Louis so tight in his arms it bordered on uncomfortable. Louis didn’t mind.
“Ready?”
Louis smiled, that soft fond smile only Lestat brought out, and nodded. “Ready.”
“I won’t let go, Louis.” Lestat breathed, looking terrified but exhilarated.
Louis’ arms were draped over Lestat’s shoulders, clutching on just as tight. He nuzzled his face into Lestat’s throat, brushing his lips across the scar that matched his own. “I know. Let’s go.”
Without further ado, Lestat lifted Louis off his feet and more securely into his hold. He opened the door with his mind, used a burst of speed to get them outside and up into the air so fast the crowd of mostly young vampires on the ground didn’t know what was happening until they were high up in the air.
They rose, and rose, until all that was visible was the vast, inky darkness around them dispersed with fluffy clouds and faraway stars. Louis’ lungs pulled tight, his heart beat fast as a rabbit’s.
The unshakable knowledge that Lestat would not drop him did not stop the initial instinctual fear, his body’s remembrance of the last time it was up this high in these arms. Louis never went up this high on his own, and he had to force himself to take deep breaths and center himself. Remind himself he asked for this, told Lestat this was what they needed and Lestat was only following his wishes.
As if he could sense Louis’ internal turmoil, Lestat held him closer and kissed his temple. “I have you. I have you, Louis.”
Louis nodded, words lost to him at the moment. The air whipped around them, Lestat seeming to pick up even more speed. It worried Louis that he was pushing himself too far, but he wasn’t about to question Lestat’s agency. Both of their agency, their ability to make choices for themselves and be in control of themselves and their lives, had been fucked with too much recently and he just wanted to be away. Away, together, and the sooner they got to Lestat’s home the faster that would come to be.
After a few minutes -and reassuring squeezes and kisses to his head- Louis relaxed incrementally, his heart returning to a normal pace. Finally felt brave enough to pull his face from the curve of Lestat’s neck, turning his head to look down.
The lights of Montreal, filmy and twinkling through the mist of the clouds that surrounded them. The sight brought back memories he was trying to currently avoid, a visceral sensation of plummeting to the ground. Feeling completely terrified and confused, drained of almost all of his blood. Body throbbing, alight with pain, grasping onto nothing.
It catapulted him into another, more recent memory.
His mind, his presence, his thoughts were there but his body wasn’t listening. He thought about lifting his hand.
Did it work? He couldn’t tell, couldn’t see when Armand had him facing this way. He tried again, trying to sense the table beneath his palm, the pen he knew was in his hand. It was there, faint. Somewhere beneath the cognitive disconnect he knew his fingers still existed, he simply no longer belonged to them. Or them to him?
He tried to thrash, tried to pull his body off the chair to come around where he could see, where he could try to put his own head back on before it was too late. So he could get to Lestat before it was too late-
“Louis! Louis, stop!” Lestat’s terrified voice broke through the haze of his mind. Louis’ teeth digging into the throat in front of his mouth, claws into the shoulders and arms, ripping and tearing.
A frightened animal lashing out in fear. Pushing himself away, legs and hands trying to free himself, to be in control and be anchored within himself again.
For a single moment he forgot where they were, only knew that he needed to be free, to be able to move and the arms around him were restrictive and confining.
Louis grabbed the arms around his body and threw them off in his frenzy, realizing too late what he was doing. As he started to free fall, his eyes widened as that no gravity, out of control sensation hit him and he began to hyperventilate.
The instant there was nothing beneath him, the world vanished momentarily.
No clouds, no stars.
Just certainty.
The certainty that this was how it happened before, and so was how it would happen again.
Arms around him…then nothing beneath him, endless nothing as he whipped through the air. His stomach lurched into his throat, tightening it so that he couldn’t even cry out in his terror.
Reality came back with a painful lurch in his gut. Lestat’s horrified face screaming his name was the last thing he saw before he somersaulted through the air. Wind tore at him from every direction. There was no up, no down, only the sickening absence of anything solid as his body pitched end over end.
Unable to breathe as the air whirled and crackled ominously around him, Louis clawed at the air and tried to think. He shouldn’t be falling, why was he falling? He knew he could stop this, and yet the sense-memory was debilitating him and he found himself unable to call upon his Cloud Gift to stop his descent. Knew he only had to will himself still, and his mind shouted the command but his body did not listen. Fear gripped him, stuck in that mindset of being unable to move, unable to make his body listen to him and he was going to fall, he was going to hit the ground, and shatter every bone in his body and
he’s falling
and
he can’t breathe
and
his eyes squeezed shut
and
the rushing stopped.
Arms collided with him hard enough to drive what little air remained from his lungs. He was caught, crushed, held so tight his ribs ached. The awful, weightless sensation stopped. He wasn’t tumbling through the air anymore.
A heartbeat, in his ears and filling his senses. His own, and its twin. Too fast, too loud, almost painful, trying to beat out of the cavities of their chest and reach each other.
A big, grounding hand clutching onto and cradling the back of his neck, like it wanted to ensure Louis’ head was not disconnected again. The other arm wrapped so tightly around his waist Louis found it hard to even attempt to inhale around the impossible knot in his esophagus. Legs tangled around his own as they halted, suspended in midair, as if Lestat was trying to become another form of gravity. A gravity in which Louis would never fall.
He caught him.
He caught him.
Louis’ teeth were chattering, chest heaving, his hands shaking as they clung to Lestat’s shoulders.
“I-I-” Lestat tried to speak, the sound strangled with tears and catching in his throat. “I have you, chéri.”
After another few moments to realign within himself -the reality that he was not falling, that Lestat had him, he was safe safe safe- Louis finally managed to open his eyes, gasping for breath.
The first thing he saw was Lestat. White as marble, absolutely washed of any color, eyes enormous, blood tears dripping down his cheeks. Looking like his worst nightmare just came true. He was shaking just as hard as Louis, violently. Every muscle trembling from terror.
Their eyes met, sinking into the other’s gaze, hearts and breaths slowing together. Lestat’s hair hung around Louis’ face, like a curtain guarding him from the surrounding world. Louis managed to release Lestat’s shoulder with one hand, reaching up to tuck one side behind his ear. Pressing their foreheads together in an attempt to comfort them both.
“I’m good. We’re good.” Louis spoke softly, afraid to spook either of them more.
Lestat sobbed, shaking his head and holding Louis closer, refusing to move. Visibly terrified, and what a pair they made, shaking like leaves together up in the sky. But it was different, it was different this time. Lestat didn’t let him fall, was so obviously scared of it happening again he was afraid to move them an inch through the air. The hand behind his neck was tightening and releasing compulsively, as if checking. Still there, still attached.
Louis swallowed painfully, his throat aching for so many reasons. “You can move. I’m okay.”
Still nothing, just Lestat somehow clutching Louis even tighter to his body.
"Lestat." Louis’ voice was rough, low and still learning how to be after crawling out of the grip of his fear.
Lestat didn’t verbally respond, staring at Louis as if he would disappear with a blink.
"I'm alright. Let’s go, please.”
Both of them shivering in the aftermath of the adrenaline, Lestat held Louis so close the physical boundaries of their bodies blurred and finally listened. Flew them the short distance left to his home, descended so slowly from the air into his backyard that it barely jostled their bodies at all when they touched down.
Louis promptly fell to his knees, leaned over and dug his hands in the grass as he vomited blood.
Lestat was on the ground next to him in a flash, hands hovering in the air like he didn’t know what to do. If he was welcome. Louis gripped one of them, wordlessly expressing he wanted Lestat near. His free hand settled on Louis’ back and stroked soothing lines up and down.
“You’re alright. It’s okay. It’s alright. You’re okay.” Repeated over and over, mimicking Louis’ words of comfort in the street the previous evening. “I’m sorry, Louis. Je suis désolé, so sorry.”
Spitting the vile taste from his mouth, Louis looked up at Lestat, bewildered. “The fuck you sorry for?”
Luminous eyes shimmered, filling and overflowing with crimson over and over. "You fell. I let you fall."
“Nah, that one was all me. But you…You caught me.”
A heart-wrenching sob, followed by a fierce nod. “I will always catch you.”
And despite the terror still flowing through him, despite the traumatizing events that just kept piling up, Louis smiled. “I know.”
Trembling fingers grazed Louis’ temple, a thumb swept across his cheekbone. “Promise you are alright?”
“Yeah. Yeah. Will be, as soon as we get the fuck out of here.”
Lestat nodded, helping Louis to his feet. They were both still shaken, but wanted to get a move on as soon as possible. Wanting to feel in control of themselves and their lives again.
So they went inside. Ignored the giant cornstarch circle and mess of the living room, the reminder of the bad idea. The choking shame of their greatest mistakes still pungent and suffocating in the air. No time to process any of that, or dwell the harrowing events of the last 48 hours. Louis felt like if he stopped moving he would fall into a pit of self-hatred and despair. It was getting late, and they needed to get out of here before some angry vampires managed to track them down. Neither of them had the energy to deal with anything more, dragged to the very edges of exhaustion.
Louis only had so many things here, a suitcase and small travel bag. Lestat was flitting through the house, grabbing his essentials and throwing clothes into two giant suitcases. Louis stayed out of his way, knowing it would only delay them should he try to help. He focused on checking the location of the car, which would take them to his waiting plane at the airport. For now, they would go to a property of his in northern Oregon, a remote cabin in the lush woods that no one knew about. It was under a different alias, completely untraceable to the outside world. They could figure out where to go from there once they had a chance to settle, to process. To just fucking be without any of the shit the world kept throwing at them.
Lestat didn’t even ask any questions, trusting Louis to handle it, which Louis doubted would become a regular thing but was grateful for in the moment. His maker came to where Louis waited by the door, pulling his luggage behind him and offering a hesitant smile.
Louis took his hand, pressed a kiss to a knuckle on his pinky that made Lestat visibly melt. “Let’s get the fuck outta here.”
“After you, chéri.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The sound of knives clinking, the pungent smell of bleach and animal flesh. That terrible disorienting feeling of being detached from the rest of himself, watching his ex-lover expose his schemes and demand apologies. His head, being moved about and commandeered to see whatever Armand wished for him to see. Touching Louis’ shoulders in passing, putting himself within reach knowing full well all Louis could do was swat uselessly at him.
Taking his agency, his control over himself and his environment. Trapped, he was trapped in the hands of one of the maddest creatures he’d ever known. A creature who knew the precise depths of how a person’s agency and body could be stripped, possessed, controlled and therefore knew exactly how to wield it.
Showing Louis without words, your body belongs to me, now.
Louis told himself he didn’t care, didn’t care, couldn’t let Armand see how unsettled he was. His eyes burned until he thought they would dry out and crack, yet they remained fixed exactly where Armand wanted them to. Louis’ mouth rasped and struggled for air -why did he need air when he had no lungs?- when Armand drew his attention to Lestat’s decapitated body, laying on a slab and motionless. Cold terror filled him finally, at what that could mean, despite Armand’s mocking reassurance not to write the obituary just yet, how his companion? had Lestat’s head. Forced to listen despite the alarm rocketing through his mind as Armand revealed his interfering in Lestat’s band, his life., ruin for the sake of ruin.
When he didn’t get the reaction he wanted, Armand dialed it up.
“I could do anything to this body, this coveted body.” Armand smoothed his hand over Lestat’s shoulder, brushing off invisible dust. Straightened the lapels of his shirt, traced a pointed claw over the exposed skin of his chest and over the scars there. Straightened his arms, toyed with his fingers.
Like he was a doll. Intimate, violating. With nothing to prevent it, making Louis complicit. Unable to do anything to stop him.
“I could cut off his fingers, his hands. Could not play piano any longer, can’t put them on your body anymore. He can have a little taste of what Nicki experienced before I held him in the flames, wouldn’t that be fitting?”
Louis groaned in protest, beyond unsettled and furious at the way Armand was talking about Lestat’s body like they were discussing the weather. A piece of furniture. The objectification was chilling. Louis’ hands slammed on the table, nails scratching and creating the most horrendous noise as it scraped across the metal table. Armand looked at him, a cruel little smile rising as he trailed his hand down Lestat’s torso. Menacingly walked his fingers over the navel, across the bulge between his legs.
“What about this?”
Fuck, no, don’t- “Don’t….Don’t… touch him…”
“And why not? Are you not aware by now, Louis, that this beautiful body, this generous endowment, is all he is good for? This beautiful, tempting body of his? An eager black hole. There is a pattern in his life, Louis, even he is aware of it.”
“No…You…should…get it more…than anyone…”
Sharp, uncontrolled rage spread across Armand’s fae-like features until they closed off. “Should I? Why is that?”
Louis stayed silent, glaring mutinously. Armand knew what the fuck he meant.
Armand sighed, as if disappointed, and reached for one of the knives on the wall next to him. “I don’t enjoy hurting Lestat, I care about him a great deal. I don’t enjoy hurting you, Louis, but this has been coming your way for quite some time. Is your maker’s body and all the ways I can mutilate it not sufficient at moving your stubborn pride?” He traced the tip of that knife down Lestat’s sternum, drawing a thin line of blood.
Despite it all, the scent made Louis’ mouth water.
“I could cut out his heart and drain it. Although, that would not have the same impact as if you could feel it stall and stop within your own. Your dual drum beats waning to one.” The knife stopped over Lestat’s heart, digging in slightly and dragging down a diagonal line between his ribs. “Tell me, Louis, do you think he can feel this?”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
“Louis! Louis, wake up!” Lestat cried, watching the love of his life’s body thrash and convulse as his mind tormented his sleep. They had arrived at Louis’ Oregon house, and Louis dragged them both to his giant bed. Collapsing together, wrapped up tightly, they’d both fallen asleep near immediately. Lestat had woken moments before to the sound of Louis’ distress, his hands scraping at the bedsheets and legs kicking the air.
Louis awoke with a heaving gasp, eyes bulging and terror etched into his features. His hands shot out to grab Lestat’s face, eyes flitting across his entire being in a panic. His body shivered, clutching onto Lestat desperately. “Fuck!”
Afraid to make it worse, Lestat removed his hands from Louis’ body where he’d been trying to shake him to waking. “Just a dream. A dream. We are in Oregon, at your cabin. Safe, Louis, you are safe.”
Louis’ breath came in short, painful sounding rasps as he tried to shake off the fog of sleep. His heart thudded against his breastbone, loud and spastic in its fear. Repeated Lestat’s words. “Safe. We’re safe.”
Lestat eyed the still-healing line of Louis’ throat in worry. “Do you want to talk about it? Your dream?”
Louis shook his head in refusal, pulling Lestat close and burying his face in his hair. Lestat would not push him, unwilling to force Louis to relive whatever traumatizing things he’d been dreaming of. He did, however, recall that Louis threw up an awful lot after the disastrous flight to Lestat’s home, and that was worrisome. His body, his mind could not heal and function at its best without proper nourishment, and maybe a sated, full stomach would allow Louis more peaceful rest. Lestat urgently wanted to provide any form of comfort, any solution to Louis’ pain. He pulled back just enough to look his love in the eyes.
“Would you like some blood? It could help.”
Louis shook his head again, sniffling.
“Please, chéri. I won’t push after this if you really don’t wish to, but you have to heal. Your mind, too. The blood will help.” Lestat whispered, running a soothing hand over Louis’ flank, thumb tracing tiny circles over his ribs.
Those precious ribs, beneath that precious skin, that held that precious heart within.
Louis’ gaze fell to Lestat’s neck, a small flare of hunger and an ache for the comfort of his maker’s blood shining in his eyes before they started to shutter.
And then the most amazing yet alarming thing happened.
The shutter was demolished as viridescent eyes flooded with sorrow, blinking against the threat of tears. Fierce, even as he fell apart. Always so fierce, his Louis. “Can you-?”
Lestat was on his feet, nodding vigorously and on his way to the kitchen before Louis could draw his next breath. He drained four blood bags, grabbing two more to bring along. He would be Louis’ personal blood transfusion, invade his veins with sustenance and power until he was physically healed as much as could be expected. The emotional and mental healing would take longer, but Lestat would be there. He would do whatever Louis needed to heal.
They’d both almost been lost to the Savage Garden. Lestat still didn’t understand exactly what happened, who had taken their heads and why. But Louis did, Lestat could tell by the haunted look in his- companion’s? Were they companions again?- in Louis’ eyes. Such lovely eyes, so sad and so resplendent in all of their anguish despite the way it tore Lestat to shreds that Louis had to feel an ounce of suffering.
Lestat knew Louis’ head had been displaced from his body for longer than most vampires could survive. After his recent reminiscing of his damning origins, for once Lestat felt grateful for his horrendous blood. This monstrous ichor pulsing through his veins because it was the only reason, had to be, that Louis was still alive.
Undead.
Whatever.
For perhaps the first time in two and a half centuries, Lestat thanked Magnus.
He almost vomited even thinking about such a thing. But…
Without Magnus, without the isolated power his maker imbued into him, the taste of the Queen’s blood enhancing the terrifying strength within…there would be no Louis. Lestat didn’t really know what to do with that, not much he could do so he chose to focus on what he could do, which was to help Louis.
While Lestat went to gorge himself on blood, Louis stared at the ceiling and tried to calm down. It was a dream, only a dream, but it was real, it had happened and it could happen again. It was too easy for Armand to catch them off guard, to show them just how much he could fuck with them if he was so inclined.
Before Louis could fall into a spiral, Lestat appeared at his side, flushed with blood and life and fuck, he was so beautiful. That blond head tilted, offering his still healing throat to Louis. Louis was reluctant to drink from the font of Lestat while he was also still healing, but knew it would do them both some good to feel so close right now. And the siren call of Lestat’s essence was too tempting to resist, Louis felt small and weak and needed his maker’s blood to make him feel strong, to assure him they were both actually alright.
“Take all of it. Take it, Louis.” Lestat’s warm, large hands guided his head so, so gently to his throat, cradling it and stroking the shorn hair at the nape of Louis’ neck. Allowing his fangs to drop, Louis closed his eyes and nuzzled into the soft skin. Sunk into him, right above the fresh scar, a satisfied moan escaping at the first taste of Lestat on his tongue.
The first swallow of Lestat’s blood spread through him. It wasn’t strength he noticed first or the incredible taste, mindblowing as it was. It was the way the blood anchored him firmly back in his own body, erasing any residual disconnect between his mind and flesh. Louis felt Lestat’s blood suffuse every inch of him, calling his cells to dance and skin to tingle all over. It was incredible, this thick, viscous ambrosia, filling him to the brim.
Louis drank deep, slow, sliding his arms around Lestat to hold him close. Assured himself that they were both solid, mostly unharmed, and here. Here, together, hiding away from the world for a bit. Lestat held him in return, his ever-loving arms shielding Louis from any previous horrors as he gave and gave.
Everything Armand had done was taking, stripping, and dehumanizing. Took his movement, took his safety, his certainty, his agency. Lestat gave, willing to hollow himself out so Louis felt a moment of peace. A body, his body that so many people touched and took from and abused, freely offered. Louis sank into the feeling of being surrounded, pillowed and protected by the sheer love pouring out of Lestat, felt it heal a part of his mangled soul.
Louis drank until he was sated, extracting his fangs and lapping at the wounds until they closed. Hot tears of relief sprang to his eyes, and he was unable to stop them from falling to pool in the dip of Lestat’s collarbone. He hid his face there, taking a deep breath.
And then he spilled, the words tumbling from him uncontrollably.
He told Lestat everything that happened in that butcher shop, all that he could remember. Unburdened this heavy weight he’d only carried for a short while, but damaged him in a way few other things in life had. It was an assault on his identity, his ability to choose. His ability to do anything to protect those he cherished. It wasn’t just frightening, it was unsettling in a way Louis knew would take him quite some time to come back from.
For those minutes under Armand’s twisted control, he ceased to be a person and became a consciousness trapped somehow inside of and outside of a body that someone else was maneuvering as he pleased.
“It…It was the single most violating thing that’s ever happened to me. I’m strugglin’ to feel like I possess my own body. And he…he made me watch as he threatened to violate you while I could do nothing. Les…After everything I just-” Louis closed his eyes against the ache in his soul at the recollection, a few tears slipping out. “After all I just learned. I-I couldn’t…And then Regina-”
“Fraudia was there?!”
Louis nodded, feeling cracked open and raw. “Yeah. Armand found her and used her to get to me. This whole time.”
Lestat’s mouth fell open, brow pinching in fury but he didn’t interrupt.
“And I couldn't just sit there and let it happen again, Lestat, I couldn’t watch her die- Couldn’t watch him hurt you-”
“Louis-”
“Wasn’t even worried about me. Woulda let him throw his psychotic tantrum and never said shit. All I could think about was you, where your fuckin’ head was. How we found our way back again just to lose it all over-”
“Louis. Mon cher.” Louis’ eyes slipped closed, the pleasure of hearing those words for the first time in nearly a century seeping calm into him like nothing else could. “It is alright. I am here. We are here.”
Louis smiled, a little bashful. “I’m supposed to be the one takin’ care of you.”
“Nonsense. You have taken care of me, shown me understanding. And, last night you did what no one else ever has.”
“What’s that?”
Lestat’s eyes grew misty, awe plain on his face. “You put yourself, your freshly traumatized and mutilated body, between myself and something that was harmful for me.”
Louis reached up, tracing gentle fingers across Lestat’s brow bone. “‘Course I did. I’d do it again. We gotta look out for each other. Protect each other.” Gotta do it right, this time.
“See? It must go both ways. Allow me to take care of you now, mm?”
But Louis’ brain snagged on a stray thought, destabilizing and clenching his heart in a vice as he considered the scar around Lestat’s throat. Remembered another slice, a waterfall of blood gushing onto a billowing white shirt. Manipulated into murdering his husband, a pawn in a game he didn’t know he was playing. Sadness crept along Louis’ features as he frowned, gentle fingers tracing the line from his love’s beheading, “Two times, slit open ‘cause of me.”
Lestat looked aghast, offended at the mere prospect. “Louis, no. This is not about me-”
“But-”
“No.” Stated firmly, no room for argument. “You are not fully at fault for the first time, and not at fault in any way for the second. Gremlin is as gremlin does.”
For the first time in days, a laugh bubbled in his chest and tumbled out of Louis’ mouth. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.”
Careful fingers stroked the hair at Louis’ temple, mindful of his curls. “I will be fine, Louis. You are the one who was hurt the most in this, so do not deign to deflect it any longer, mon amour. You do not have to continue talking to me about it if you wish not to, but I will not tolerate you blaming yourself for the acts of that demented cherub.”
“He fuckin’ branded me.”
Something dangerous flooded Lestat’s expression. “He what?! I will end him.”
Louis tugged the open neck of his top down, showing Lestat the ‘A’ carved above his heart. It had healed a little, knitting together quicker now he was infused with so much of Lestat’s blood, but still visible.
Incandescent with rage, Lestat looked like he was about to go ballistic. Instead, he sliced his hand, flattening the palm over the brand until the skin was flawless, the branded ‘A’ disappearing as if it had never been there at all.
Sweet, adoring lips pressed into the healed skin, all along Louis’ pec and over his heart. Louis sighed in contentment, dropping his arms to the bed beside him and going lax. Allowing Lestat to do whatever he wanted.
Emboldened, Lestat kissed across his chest until there was no more available skin exposed, then moved on to his collarbone, his shoulder. Picked up Louis’ wrist to kiss the sensitive skin there, not a hint of teeth or fang. Just loving, reverent brushes of his lips.
The backs of his hands, every knuckle, fingertip. When he ran out of skin, Lestat moved as if to pull away. Louis let out a soft whine of protest, leaning up enough to tug his shirt over his head, and then wiggled until he could kick off his pants and offer more of his bare skin. Lestat’s eyes nearly glowed in the moonlight, ardent and gorgeous as they took in Louis’ body for the first time in decades before resuming his mission.
Lestat kissed every inch of Louis’ body, from the tips of his toes to the skin beneath his hairline. Worshipful, intentional. Allowing the sensation, the sweeping sparks of pleasure from his touch, to sink into Louis and help him feel at peace and anchored within his own body once more.
There was no urgency to it. No hunger that demanded satisfaction or gratification, no frantic attempt to erase what had happened. Lestat lingered over every part of him as though committing Louis to memory all over again. As though each kiss declared, here you are. Here were the hands that reached for him, here was the heart that had survived. Here was the body that belonged to no one but the soul residing within it.
Louis felt himself returning in pieces beneath those impossibly gentle lips that suffused affection into his marrow. Not because Lestat was putting him back together, but because Lestat never once behaved as though Louis had been broken beyond recognition. Lestat treated him as something holy that had only ever forgotten its own divinity, as though nothing had ever been taken from him that could not be reclaimed.
By the end of it, Louis was squirming beneath him, warmth blossoming across his skin until it felt impossible to contain. Each careful touch sank deeper beneath his skin. He wanted more, not because Lestat left him wanting, but because the distance of a single inch separating them became unbearable.
Louis was euphoric. Thought he might die if those lips didn’t kiss him on the mouth soon. He was straining against his boxer briefs, the only stitch of clothing that remained on him. Lestat didn’t seem like he was going to stop any time soon, so Louis grabbed him by the shoulders. Tugged him up from where he was currently tracing his lips along the dip of Louis’ ribs and pulling Lestat to lay atop him.
Their eyes met, shining seaglass and the stormy ocean that polished it smooth. Louis had spent so long drowning in waters that did not belong to him. Looking into Lestat’s gaze, filled with fathomless adoration was like staring down an abyss, vast and indefinable.
Once, he'd believed love was something that drowned.
This…
This felt like breaking the surface. Like filling lungs that had been empty for too long.
Lestat looked at him with the quiet awe of someone who had already mourned him once, and could scarcely believe he had been given another chance.
The air between them was hazy, warm and wonderful. Louis gripped the golden locks at the base of Lestat’s nape so he could stroke the new scar with his pinky.
“Lestat…”
“Louis…”
Louis lifted his chin, eyes dropping to Lestat’s mouth to convey his desire. A tiny sob caught in Lestat’s chest, and he eagerly gave Louis what he asked for, as he always would.
Their mouths found each other with an almost painful gentleness, hesitant only for the span of a heartbeat before recognition bloomed between them. It wasn’t unfamiliar. Quite the opposite. It felt like something so deeply remembered that Louis wondered how he’d ever endured the years without it.
Lestat kissed him as though he were afraid the moment might dissolve if he reached for too much. Soft, lingering brushes of lips that tasted faintly of iron and the sweetness of borrowed blood, each one asking a question Louis answered by leaning closer. Tangling his hands in that golden mane and pulling him in.
The relentless vigilance he’d carried since coming back to himself on the tour bus, the instinct to brace for the next violation, the next blow, loosened its grip one careful breath, one devoted kiss at a time. There was only warmth. Only Lestat’s mouth against his own, impossibly patient, impossibly real. The slow slide of breath shared between them, sweet glide of searching tongues to find the other.
The reassuring weight of Lestat draped across him, anchoring him to himself. Not trapping him, never trapping him, only held there because Louis had reached for him first.
“Wanna feel you, baby,” Louis murmured, with a sensual roll of his hips to rock himself against the firm body above him.
Lestat laughed, eyes bright at the endearment, voice breathy and happy. “Non, Louis. I want you to feel yourself. To feel at home in this glorious body of yours once more. This sacred temple of flesh I will prostrate myself before for all eternity, if you will allow it.”
Nodding enthusiastically, Louis tugged on the end of Lestat’s shirt, because he still wanted to see him. See all that creamy, porcelain flesh reflecting in the moonlight. Lestat removed his clothes, resplendent and bare as he kissed, licked, and nibbled a hot path down Louis’ chest. Nuzzled his nose into the coarse hair beneath Louis’ bellybutton, his breath tickling the sensitive skin and Louis felt insane, like he was going to implode if Lestat didn’t stop teasing.
Clawed fingers, capable of so much violence but now only wielded with love, dipped under Louis’ waistband. Those blueblueblue eyes flicked up, a question in them to which Louis answered by raising his hips. Lestat pulled them off, pausing to grip Louis’ ankles and press a few more kisses along them before slinking forward.
Hot, open mouthed kisses across his hipbones, the tiniest scrape of teeth along the jut of the bone there before that adoring mouth closed along the tip of Louis’ aching cock. Louis gasped, an involuntary twitch of his hips sliding himself further into the space between Lestat’s lips.
Wet warmth was all Louis knew then, he felt pulled under in the tide of Lestat’s reverence. His mouth was gentle, all slick heat and silken skin. His wicked tongue swirling and tracing every ridge, sending shivers of pleasure through Louis’ core and sparking up his spine. It stayed slow for a while, unhurried, Lestat lapping at him as Louis sank into bliss. The sight of Lestat, all luminous skin and lush lips as he worshipped Louis’ cock as he’d worshiped the rest of him, caused something primal within Louis to shiver to life after being buried for so long.
It tugged on his heart, this man he’d ached for for decades devoting himself at the altar of Louis once more. Louis moaned helplessly, unable to tear his eyes away, wouldn’t want to even if he could. His hands sank into golden locks, not guiding or controlling, just holding on, wanting to feel the slip of those soft strands around his fingers.
One large hand clutched Louis’ thigh, gripping the meat and stroking his thumb across his femoral artery. The other slid up his stomach, between Louis’ ribs and caressed his chest, tangling in the dusting of hair and thumb pressing into the spot where the brand had been. Louis felt an eruption of emotion, sticky and insistent. His back arched, catching his bottom lip between his teeth to gnaw on. Lestat was moaning as if he was the one receiving pleasure, eyes locked on Louis’ face and drinking in every reaction, every breathy sound that ripped its way out.
Lestat started to build a rhythm, confidence growing the more Louis melted and writhed under his touch. He grew a little too enthusiastic, Louis’ cock sliding to the back of his throat. Lestat swallowed, the muscles of his freshly healed throat convulsing around Louis and it took every shred of his self-control not to bury himself there.
“Ohhh, fuck, Les….Slow down, be careful,” Louis sounded wrecked, felt absolutely demolished by the things this impossible man evoked within him, which made his scolding fall a little flat. Lestat rolled his eyes, but lifted up to lick and suckle on just the head of his cock again. The hand on Louis’ thigh shifted to work the length outside of that clever mouth.
Wanting, needing, to feel some part of Lestat inside him, Louis removed one hand from those golden locks and pulled the hand on his chest to his mouth. Sucked those fingers into his eager mouth, biting down with a little fang just to coat his tongue in the liquid light that flowed through his maker. Louis groaned, the unbelievable taste of him bringing everything to new heights.
The pleasure did not simply bloom within Louis, it rooted. Tangling deep with the spindly roots his maker had set down over a century ago, entwining to bring every dormant part of Louis back to life. It spread, lapping at the edges of him until there were no edges left. He became something celestial, as if gravity itself surrendered him to the stars. Consumed by the eternal love of the man between his thighs. Shimmering, bursting pleasure like shooting stars across every inch, every pore, every molecule of Louis until all he could fathom was his soul howling in ecstasy, Lestat, Lestat, Lestat.
After coming harder than he had in ages, Louis collapsed back onto the bed, chest heaving and skin singing. Firmly anchored in his tingling, thoroughly loved body. Lestat pulled off, and Louis’ hands were grabbing, tugging, holding him as close as he could while they both caught their breath.
Louis felt impossibly light, as though happiness had quietly loosened gravity’s hold on him. Brimming with affection, Louis kissed him, getting lost in the drugging sensation of those lips.
So lost that he didn’t realize his back was no longer on the bed until Lestat startled and clutched him tighter. “What- Forgive me, mon cher, I cannot seem to put us down!”
All Louis could do was laugh, carefree and loose and wonderful. The kind of surprised, uncontrollable laugh that came from discovering his body could do something beautiful instead of the horrors it had been forced to endure.
Louis’ body was still his own, and still profoundly loved. It rose, cast adrift by joy so vast it spilled into the air around him.
Seemed his Cloud Gift was functioning again.
Lestat was distressed, eyes wide and nervous. Louis stroked the hair back from his face, tucking it behind an ear. Simply bursting with adoration. “It’s not you, baby, it’s me. It’s me!”
It was impossible to have literal cartoon heart eyes, but Lestat came pretty close at that moment. “Louis! Louis, you-it’s you?”
“Yeah, surprise.” Louis chuckled deeply, tears of mirth rising. “I’m so fuckin’ happy I’m floatin’. Look what you did!”
Lestat blinked in surprise, looking at Louis with incredulous delight. As if he had just witnessed a miracle. Then he burst into overjoyed giggles, kissing all over Louis’ face.
Louis sighed happily, wrapping himself tight around Lestat and just allowing them to hover where they were. His body had betrayed him, or the control of it had been forcibly taken, in various instances over the past few days.
Now, his exultation was so complete it literally lifted him up with the man he loved in his arms. He was overflowing with joy, so full he was bursting with it and floating, buoyant in his love.