Chapter Text
À Travers le Passé, Obscurément
~Chapter One~
(Louis)
The man who had caused the damage wasted no time at all being amazed at Lestat’s apparent aggravation at the holes in his jacket; he merely cursed and aimed the gun to fire again. Too late. To his eye Lestat had seemingly disappeared and what happened next was swift and every bit as lethal as the would-be killer’s weapon. Lestat reached around from behind the man to snatch the gun from his hand and I heard the snap of bone. The man’s violent struggling did him no good at all and Lestat tore the throat from him with a hoarse cry.
I stood transfixed, the scent of his blood and the blood of the mortal overpowering in the humid air. Lestat drained him quickly, his hands brutal, tearing flesh and pulverizing bone as he fed, caught up in the kill. He’d sunk to his knees as he drank and when he raised his head, I extended my hand. He took it and I pulled him to his feet--his mouth dripped with gore and his eyes were wide and dilated.
There were several people peering from window above us and a car squealed to a stop at the curb, the occupants shouting and swearing. More weapons. I was unwilling to see Lestat injured again and so I pulled him with me. We were blocks away before the would-be avengers were aware of what had happened. Lestat threw his arms about my neck, laughing maniacally.
“Louis! Ah, what fun! But the jacket--you only just gave it to me.” Lestat growled as I searched the exit wound with my fingers. It was knitting quickly, hardly as gaping as it had been only a few minutes earlier. He took a step back and lifted the edge of the jacket to survey the damage. “You know, if he hadn’t pissed me off so much, I would have torn his liver out before his eyes!” He snarled. He poked a finger through one of the holes and eyed it balefully.
“You always let your appetites rule you, my love.” I chided. “And I’ve told you; firearms are so destructive.”
I’d felt a similar urge to show the shooter a few of his vital organs before he succumbed just because he had marred the perfection of my beloved. I licked my fingers and shivered at the taste of him. The wail of sirens grew wincingly loud and an ambulance and a police car howled past us. When the shrieking faded somewhat Lestat grinned.
“Not a very good job of getting rid of that body.” He said, leaning against me again. He nosed his way under my hair and I arched to him with a soft growl.
“Careless.” I agreed. I reached to grasp his shoulders and pushed him against the wall. Our teeth clashed as I took his mouth in a rough kiss, biting into his tongue. He made a shuddery little sound and I felt his arms come around my back. “Very careless.” I repeated when I finally released him, dizzy with the taste of him in my mouth.
Lestat stayed where he was against the wall, watching me with glittering eyes. A small rill of blood stained the corner of his mouth and his shirt beneath the jacket was saturated with it. "Et si nous rentrions à la maison?" He asked. His body swayed seductively.
I took his hand.
(Lestat)
"Oh my god." Brian muttered. He’d come out of the office when he heard us coming up the stairs. “Now what?”
“A little run in with a handgun.” I said, tossing the ruined jacket at him. He caught it distractedly, eying my bloodied shirt with a mixture of anxiety and vague hunger. “Nothing too bad. It itches abominably, though.”
“Itches.” Brian repeated in a flat tone, still staring. He’d noticed the blood on my hands.
“Come, now,” Louis said silkily, “It’s not as though you haven’t seen a good deal of blood here before.”
Louis pulled the shirt from me, tearing the saturated fabric easily and rubbing it across his face as he walked past Brian. He went into the parlor. I poked at the deep red flesh beneath my lowest rib. It had already closed itself. I wasn’t so sure about the exit wound.
“What does the back look like? “ I asked Brian, turning around.
“Still pretty torn up,” he said in strange voice. “But I don’t think it’s bleeding anymore. Kinda hard to tell. I’ll get you a towel.”
“Don’t bother.” Louis called from the parlour. “I will attend to him. Come to me, Lestat,”
I turned to Brian and smiled. “Thanks anyway.” I said, taking his hand. I drew it around my waist and across the wound in my back. I let him go and he looked at his bloody fingers. “Were there any messages?”
“What?”
“Messages.” I said, patiently. “Anything important?” He was holding one of the white lined pads of paper he generally used to make note of things he wished to tell me.
“Oh.” He tore his eyes from his glistening fingers, hesitating only a moment. “No. Nothing important.” He grinned back at me. “You shouldn’t make him wait. He seems a little edgy.”
“Edgy.” I agreed. “He’s hungry.”
I left the room. Hungry. Yes, he was hungry. I could see it in his eyes, fierce hunger and a rising need for blood.
“Turn around, my love.” Louis said thickly. I did and I felt his hands at my hips, pushing me forward until I was bent over the arm of the couch.
“Still bleeding, Lestat--only just,” he muttered, standing behind me. He leaned forward and I felt the first questing sweep of his tongue below the wound. I let my weight settle and willed my muscles to relax somewhat. He ran his tongue over me repeatedly, the tiny barbs lapping up my spilled blood, spiraling closer to the wound with each pass. I could hear the rumbling contented purr coming from him, though the same could not be said of me; I was excited beyond belief and it was all I could do to remain still.
It’s what he wanted of me, you see; to remain still. To anticipate. He didn’t say these things, but it was there in the pressure of his hand on my back, at once calming and commanding. It was there in the considered and measured movement of tongue and lips over my flesh and the small sounds he made, signals that held me.
There was painful sensation when Louis probed the healing wound and his rumbling purr grew louder when he reopened the newly closed flesh and drank from me for a moment, hot blood spurting as opposed to that cooling on my skin. I felt in him the trembling thrum of his heightened arousal as his hands traveled slowly from my hips up over my ribs and then around my middle.
The slow, deliberate slip and scrape of his tongue continued, stealing my breath so that I found myself panting harshly. My only movement was the involuntary clenching and unclenching of my fingers. He licked the injured area gently and did not pierce the tender flesh again, though I waited with each sweep for the breach. The pressure was intense, the need to feel his skin against mine excruciating. He was still fully dressed, his body molded to mine as he continued lapping at my flesh. His hair, dragging across my back, sent little shocks of pleasure though me. I groaned his name.
“What is it, love?” He whispered. His fingers moved up my chest and he found my nipple. “Are you poised there on the fine edge? You must step back and wait for me.” He twisted the hard little nub sharply, grinding his hips against me. When I tried to move back, he pinched me again. “You must step back.” He said again.
He rose up from his position over me and stepped back. I waited, breathless, feeling the burn of his eyes on my naked back, chafing at the blood-soaked jeans.
“Your flesh,” he said in a low, carrying voice. “I crave every cell, Lestat. You are swept clean, and I feel your life inside me. Stand and let me look at you.”
(Brian)
“Hello Brian. Mind if we come in for a minute?” I shrugged and let Officers Chaisson and Dufrene in. They made periodic visits and I knew John Chaisson casually on a personal level.
“What is it now?” I asked. “No noise tonight. So far, anyway.”
“No, we didn’t get a complaint. There was a shooting over near Desire a while ago.” Chaisson informed me.
“Imagine that.” I said dryly. “Come on in to the kitchen.”
They sat at the small table and I gave them each a can of Dr. Pepper. “It’s not the shooting that was out of the ordinary.” Fred Dufrene said, popping the top of his can. “It was the body. We went over to see what was going on.”
“Desire’s out of your district isn’t it?” I asked. I knew it was, but the game must be played.
“Yeah, well. You know.” John answered, giving me a significant look. “We’ve had a quiet watch tonight for a change.”
“The thing about the body was this there was no gunshot wound, just a nice big hole in the guy’s neck and lacerations on his back. Looks like he had a couple broken bones too, but hardly any blood anywhere. We don’t come across something like that too often, you know?” Fred looked at me.
I nodded. “How’s your mother doing, Fred? She like it up at that new place she’s living?” I asked him.
He stared at me for a moment and then shook his head. “Come on, now, Brian. We’re having a friendly chat here. Just passing on a little information is all, no reason to get testy. I know how les messiuers need a little reminder about their habits now and then.”
Officer Dufrene’s mother was an eighty year old lady living in a very upscale home for the elderly, quite a step up from the place she’d been in before, thanks to Lestat’s generosity. No one ever bantered the word ‘bribery’ around New Orleans’ finest, and hell, it was the guy’s mother, after all. That and a little Christmas present every year from Lestat and Louis were hardly on the scale of some of the scandals that department has seen in its time.
“I’ll be sure to mention you stopped by.” I told them both earnestly.
“There’s something else.” John said. He finished his Dr. Pepper and put the empty can on the table. From above came a loud crash and the sound of something fragile shattering. Both officers were on their feet but I held up my hand.
“Not a home invasion, trust me. Whatever is going on up there, they don’t want to be interrupted” I said emphatically. After a moment John nodded. Fred looked nervously out into the hall. “You said there was something else?”
“Yeah. This is the fourth body to turn up this way. Exsanguinated, I mean. There’s some rumbling about it downtown.” He jerked his head upward. “They gotta tone it down a little. Not that there’s a lot of grief over the newly deceased.” Their shoulder radios crackled, and Fred waved his hand to indicate that he’d take care of it. He walked a little way into the hall.
John leaned forward, lowering his voice. “Let them know, okay?”
“Yeah, I’ll tell them. Can I ask you something?”
He glanced at the doorway. We could hear Fred speaking into the shoulder set. “What is it?”
“What’s the time frame?” I asked.
He thought about it for a minute. “About two weeks, I guess. None in the Quarter and the details haven’t made the papers. Yet.”
I nodded. “Thanks for the heads up, John. I’ll tell him.”
After they left I leaned against the door for a minute, thinking. Two weeks. I couldn’t swear to knowing their whereabouts every night, but they’d been ensconced in the house for at least half that time. There was no more noise from above and so I ventured upstairs to shut off some lights. As I suspected they had already retired to their room. In the parlour I found the source of the crash; an overturned lamp and an end table on its side. There was also a smear of blood on the arm of the couch, nothing that couldn’t wait until daylight to be seen to. I ran my fingers over the stain, but it was already dry.
(Louis)
There was a bare movement of his head as I took a step toward him and his fingers twitched. The room seemed unbearably hot.
“Louis.” His voice was so soft, so caressing.
“My love?” He made no answer but closed his eyes and when I took another step I could see the dark gold of his lashes lying against his cheek. “You hide yourself from me. I cannot bear it.” I murmured. The corner of his mouth rose and he unbuttoned his trousers. They were heavy with his spilled blood when he skinned out of them. “My Beauty.” I whispered. “My Angel.”
His flesh rippled and he moaned softly. I unbuttoned my shirt and dropped it to the floor. I took another step forward and his lips lifted, exposing his fangs. His fingers curled and he dug his nails into the taut flesh of his upper thighs. “Step back, my love. Step back from the edge. Wait for me.” I murmured. His fingers relaxed and he let his head loll backward so that the tendons in his neck stood out in corded, beautiful relief. His closed eyelids fluttered. My next step brought me mere inches from him and I ran my hand over the pink weal that was the gunshot wound. His scent filled my head.
“You hide yourself from me,” he said, echoing my words. “I cannot bear it.” I slid my hands down his ribs and let them come to rest on the jut of his pelvic bone. I did not allow myself to look down as I rested my chin on his tawny shoulder.
“Yes, you can.” I said into his ear. His pale hair was as soft as a child’s. I moved my hands closer together so that my thumbs met. I closed my eyes and caressed the fine down, paying close attention to the fluttering muscles under my palms. I pressed myself tight against him and he returned the pressure, planting his feet and pushing back. He turned his head and I felt his lips against my jaw. He growled deeply.
“You’re killing me, Louis,” Lestat said with a flash of impatience. He nipped sharply at me.
“So dramatic, you,” I said, delighted with his response to our attrition. “And I love you for it.” I stepped back and he eeled around and pulled me into his arms. His sudden movement caused me to stumble slightly and the end table fell over, spilling the lamp to the floor with a crash.
Our mouths met hungrily in a heated, protracted kiss and when we released each other at last he spoke. “No. I can’t bear it.” He licked his lips, reaching for the waistband of my pants; I stayed his hand.
“Our bed, Lestat.” I told him lazily. “And there you can shred them from me, oui?”
(Lestat)
“So far away,” he said mournfully. “What are you waiting for?”
I glanced at the bed and he smiled. “I changed my mind, I think,” he said seriously. His eyes were blazing, incandescent with lust. He ran his hand over the buttons of his jeans and I felt myself jump in response. “I think you should take them from me where I stand.”
I went to Louis and sank to my knees before him, licking the smear of blood from his belly. The little wound he’d made was already gone. Curling my fingers around the backs of his knees, I slid them slowly upwards. Louis dropped his hands upon my shoulders and I clamped my front teeth on the waistband of the low-slung jeans. My thumbs reached the curve of his ass and I pulled his thighs apart a little further. His hands tightened on my shoulders in response, and he sighed. I jerked my head backward viciously and the metal buttons broke away with absurd ease. The jeans thus loosened, I tore them from him with my hands and they slid from his hips, exposing him to my avid eye. I drew him into my mouth.
The jeans had only torn to the crotch and they’d slid halfway down his thighs. Temporarily trapped and off balance, he dug his fingers into the muscles of my shoulders and tried to push further into my mouth. I resisted the urge to suckle,instead using my tongue gently on him, lapping delicately at the silky skin. I felt the muscles in his thighs tensing as he tried to tear his way out of the confining fabric and after a moment the strained denim began to rip. I sucked on him a little harder to distract him and his hips immediately bucked forward.
“Demon.” The word was barely intelligible, torn from his mouth in a coughing little snarl. He pulled back slightly and then thrust into my mouth again, and I fastened lovingly on the hard length of him, holding his hips tight and taking over the rhythm. I suckled and licked and scraped my teeth on him and he muttered my name and growled out gutter French, staggering back awkwardly and scraping his back on the carved marble of the fireplace.
I tasted blood, his and mine, drawn forth from the rough give and take of our passion. I moved my head back and sank one fang into him just behind the flared head of his cock and he cried out, coming forcefully into my waiting mouth, every muscle in his body taut and straining. I drank deeply and after a while he fell forward upon me and we rolled over onto the floor. I sat up and reached to tear the jeans off of him altogether and he laid back, muscles loose with satiation. Beautiful. His eyelids fluttered and he pulled me down to lie atop him.
"Louis?" I pulled his lower lip into my mouth and nibbled.
"Mmph?"
"Where did you get those jeans?"
TBC