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"Look at me Louis" the deep voice rumbles, pronouncing every letter slowly. Whimpering, Louis slowly peered up, looking into the gray-blue eyes that stared intently at his own emerald ones. Intimidated by the piercing stare he felt sick to his stomach, like he was going to empty all its contents right here on the floor, although it wouldn't be much due to the fact that he threw up earlier.
" Oh Mon chéri ," his lover started and let go of Louis’s hair, instead pulling him into a tight embrace. "You know I love you right?" with a sharp intake of breath at those words, he lifted shaky arms to return the embrace. Tears falling from emerald eyes, a small smile on his dry lips. "I know."
After dry-heaving for a few more moments Louis finally managed to calm down, taking deep unsteady breaths. The dull throbbing in his head was soothing to him as it appeared to never go away. His throat felt dry due to all the crying last night, but yet that too was another thing he had gotten used to. Looking around the room he was now kept in, he got the sudden urge to use the bathroom. With unsteady legs he stood up and walked over to the small bathroom attached to his room.
The bathroom now feels so small and cramped, there was a toilet in the left corner and a sink right next to it with a small circular mirror directly above the sink. Everything else looks expensive but hollow; bought from wealth, so Louis should be happy because it showed that Lestat cared for him. Right?
"Louis." Lestat's deep voice rumbled calling out to his lover. Oh Louis, his lover, was so pretty, hands tied above his head, eyes red and puffy from crying and the salty tears that seemed to endlessly fall down his face. His beautiful brunette hair, now tinted red from the blood. His sobbed moans that continuously flowed from his ruby sore lips assaulted from the harsh kisses he'd given him. Oh he was so pretty, so... broken. "You look so pretty like this Louis." Those are the words that made him think it was okay. "That's right, you enjoy this don't you" it wasn't a question, it was a demand.
"Y-yes" his choked out sob came, as he was continually rammed into. It hurt, but it hurt so good.
After relieving himself, he washed away the dried blood that stuck to his face from the other day. He winced slightly as he moved too quickly and felt a surge of pain in his stomach. Louis looked up into the cracked mirror. Since when was it cracked? He stared at his face, at all the bruises, how his eyes seemed to have lost their once vibrant color. Pretty. Lestat had called him pretty. So he ignored the bruises, he ignored the lack of color, he would ignore it all. All because Lestat loves him and he loves Lestat.
Blood. There was a lot of blood.
This is what love is right?